"This isn't a Grand National. It's a Regal Turbo-T," Layla muttered, standing before a Darth Vader-black Buick. Glancing at its license plate, she shook her head in frustration, her lips tightening. Her friend could've at least corrected the model information after pulling up the car's registration and before sending her here.
Sighing, she took out her latest model cursed smartphone and began scanning the Buick for traces of curse energy. The results came back clean. Not a single trace. Layla frowned, her confidence wavering. Was the intel wrong after all? She chewed her lip, conflicted. Knowing her friend's innate curse tool's abilities, she trusted the info and felt something wasn't adding up. Perhaps the curse user she was tracking was highly skilled at covering their tracks.
Beep. Beep. Beep.