Why did he lock the door? The car is sleek. All rounded edges, perfect red paint, cut from the same cloth that the sports cars of dreams are made of. He's prized this car since the day he got it, even going through all the trouble of driving it from his original college town.

Then Tony throws the mangled spear through the back window, slicing right through the passenger's seat and sticking through the dashboard beyond. Cesar can only gape in open-mouthed horror, before he's turning the engine on so hard the key almost snaps, yanking the car into gear.

Tony is between him and the small lot's nearest road. Cesar pulls around the car in a tight arc, facing both of them.

He floors the gas.