The clock strikes three and the witching hour begins.
Menacing deeds creep through where we stand.
Cold hearts gather in the dark of the night.
Mean machines run against the light.
What’s more intimidating than an R8 lurking amongst the shadows in the dead of the night? Seeing two more joining the fray. The infernus trio purrs down the streets like a pack of pumas, muscles warmed up and poised to strike without any hesitation. Their steely gazes sweep the surroundings with regal voracity. Then suddenly, they spring to life, roaring through the still air with their stirring hearts beating strong and proud.
When they’ve finally settled back down into their hiding spot, away from the light, we, then, see their true masters.