A red Ferrari came tearing through the flooded street at a speed that was reckless in good weather and borderline suicidal in this.
The tires sent up twin rooster tails of rainwater three meters high. The engine howled with the particular fury of a machine being driven by someone who believed traffic laws were suggestions meant for other people.
The car didn't slow down.
It didn't adjust its trajectory.
It plowed through the massive puddle directly beside Stan at full speed.
SPLASH!
A wall of filthy rainwater erupted from the gutter and hit Stan Harrison like a breaking wave. His umbrella, his jacket, his shirt, his shoes, everything. Soaked through in an instant. Cold, dirty water dripping from his jaw, pooling in his collar, running down his back in icy rivulets.
The Ferrari screeched to a stop ten meters ahead.
"Can't you drive properly?" Stan roared at the vehicle, water streaming down his face. "Are you blind?"
The tinted window slid down.
