The Vette brushed by the red elf and his minions but the mystery Plymouth plowed through them like a manic bowling ball. To Grease it was as if the Plymouth was taking AIM at them. He swerved hard to avoid the debris of pedals and pedantia. The girl was again beside him and she gave him a smile. The tall, gaunt, black clad figure gave a grudging smile as the Chevy screeched by and came to a halt beside the Vette. Blondy was breathing heavily, as was Grease. The Plymouth had come to a stop about another hundred feet down the road, slewed sideways at the end of the Curve. Its grille and front end sheet metal were destroyed and yet somehow, it resembled a face......a smiling face.

Grease looked to Blondy and they both looked back at the bodies of St.Nick and the Trolls...and the carnage...and the man in black laughing uproariously. Ahead, the Plymouth brake-jacked, the car sliding around to its original course. Then with an ear shattering squeal, it launched itself toward the Lucky U.

"I guess this one's his Slick. Maybe another time for us." said Greaseball. "But I gotta' know who the hell that guy is! Let's see if he turns into the Lucky U."