A/N: I forgot to mention it in my original disclaimer, so I should probably tell you all now:

DISCLAIMER!! Though the Marvels Among Us Saga does take place in my own personal universe of AcceleRacers/World Race combined with the Marvel Comics universe, I, Fenrir's Daughter, am COMPLETELY IGNORING THE EVENTS OF THE MARVEL CIVIL WAR AND SECRET INVASION. for those of you not in the know, this basically means, #1: The Super Human Registration Act has not made it to Congress. #2: There has not been an intense disagreement ending in a war between superheroes who support the SHRA and those who oppose it. #3: Captain America has NOT been assassinated. And finally, #4: The Skrull Army, who happen to be extraterrestrial shapeshifters as well as religious extremists, have not inveded Earth.

And so, to recap, Captain Amercia's alive and the aliens haven't invaded yet. Danke!


Taro shook his head, exasperated by the surf rat's stupidity. "This won't end well," he said. Mel glared at the older Metal Maniac and knocked him playfully in the back of his head.

"Thanks again, Captain Obvious," she sneered. "How could this possibly end well? He asks her out, she says no, so he goads her into a race? As if!"

"A lady is not a prize to be won," growled Wylde, shaking his head in disapproval. Mel cooed at how sweet he was and the pair cuddled, ignoring the revving engines around them. Soon enough, they had begun the "I love you, I love you more, no I love you more" argument. Tork rolled his eyes and barked that the two young racers loved each other equally and for them to please shut up.

Angie shook his head sadly. "Taro's right, of course," he said. "No matter who wins, we all lose. Vert's screwed seven ways to Sunday. Stick a fork in his ass and turn him over; he's done."

"Oh, Vert," Karma said, disappointed. She had always hoped he was smarter than this, but he just didn't use his head sometimes. And now it was far too late for him to apologize. Even if he did win, there was no way this girl would ever forgive him. Karma sighed. "I wish Kurt or Nolo were here. They're the only ones who could talk some sense into him."

"Too bad they're still in France," said Taro.

Karma nodded sadly. The Teku were basically disbanded when Shirako's sister, Saiyaka, had dragged both her brother and Nolo Pasaro to the Cannes film festival. Shirako said he needed a break from Kurt, but after a few lonely days, he followed the younger Teku to declare his love. With Vert on tour, Karma was the only one who remained. And even now that he was home, it might has well have stayed that way. They didn't hang out the way they used to, and they were never really that close to begin with.

Karma was pretty much a solo racer now; a driver without a team, too proud and too easily annoyed to join the Metal Maniacs. Times like these, she thought of following Saiyaka and the boys to Paris, but…

Taro put his arm around her protectively, and she smiled. How could she ever dream of leaving?

Angie cowered ever so slightly. "I hate it when my friends fight…"


Vert revved his engine, cursing his temper. There was no way he could win. Sure, he might win the race, but Nona would never forgive him for provoking her into such a wager. And what if he lost? He would never live down the shame of making such a complete and total ass of himself for a girl, and Nona would still hate him until the end of the world. He might as well have handed her a can of mace, pointed at his own eyes and been done with it.

But there was no way Vert could back down now. Even at that very moment, he could feel Nona's eyes burning away; imagine her knuckles gripped tightly on the steering wheel. She was going to bury him.

Anya Onoprienko, resplendent in black leather, stepped majestically to where the starting line had been marked. She carried a pirate's flag, as per the Lost Boy's custom. It felt as if the whole world watched as she sized up the divers and raised her arms.

This was truly it, Vert thought. There was no turning back.

With a flourish Anya brought down he Jolly Roger, and Vert gunned it. He and Nona screeched into the night like bats out of hell. He pulled just next to Nona, scoping her out, trying to get a feel for her abilities.

Nona used the blonde's distraction to her advantage, slamming into the right side of his pickup. Even with the larger vehicle, Vert was easily muscled aside, falling back a length. Nona shifted smoothly and accelerated ahead.

Vert swore under his breath and kept going, struggling to catch up, and decided there was no shame in giving as good as he got. Speeding and shifting, he kept up until he was tail-gating her. Vert smashed the back of the passenger side and pulled up next to Nona.

The pair scooted and scraped, grinding the car and truck side by side, neither giving up and inch. Sparks were flying and Vert grinned down at Nona. Scowling, Nona jerked hard on the steering wheel and sent Vert into a pile of rocks. Unfortunately, she could not pull out of it in time and crashed right with him. The Ram and the Trans Am sputtered and stalled with a squeal of breaks and busting glass.

Angie clutched at his hair and howled, scrambling for his van. Those watching the race were filled with an immense dread as they approached the scene. The Lost Boys chattered with concern in multiple languages, and Mikki became very aware of the spiked bracelets on his wrists. Whenever he felt very sad or frightened, he could feel the scars beneath throbbing and had to fight off the need for a blade.

Nona stepped steadily from her driver's side door, her face betraying only righteous anger.

"Baby girl, you alright?" Tork asked mildly, checking out his younger cousin. There wasn't a scratch on her but her hands trembled. Angie and Lexi fawned all over her, battering Nona with questions and queries about her health.

Mikki and Alec bounded into the bed of the pickup to check on the blonde. He was dazed, but conscious, and blood trickled down his forehead as he fumbled with his seatbelt.

"Can you get out of there on your own, Vert?"

"The, um, doors are jammed," he slurred.

"Right," Alec said. "Mikki, help me pop out this back window. We can carry him out through there."

Though Vert insisted he did not need to be carried, he was gently lifted out by the two young men and made to sit in the truck bed. Alec gingerly turned his old friend's head, inspecting the damage.

"Cut's not too bad," he said softly. "But you could still have a concussion. We should get you to a hospital."

"No hospitals. I want to finish this. Now."

"Vert, your truck is totaled."

"I don't care, Alec! If I can't drive this one then lend me yours!"

"Vert, you're in no condition to driver. Stop being an idiot."

"I may be an idiot, Alec, but I'm an idiot who's in love!" Vert turned to Nona, his cheeks burning; he had completely forgotten she was standing right there.

Tork snickered, but his little laughs turned into a coughing fit when Nona elbowed him in the stomach.

"Love or not," she said frigidly, "You're still an idiot."

Nona popped her hood for a quick inspection, slammed it down and started the Trans Am once more. She looked coldly at Vert as she pulled around.

"I warned you I'd tear you a new one, surf rat," she told him.

Vert held his head in his hands and sulked. Mikki sat next to him, like a dark reflection in the mirror.

"So," he said. "You messed that up royally."

Vert slowly turned to look at his brother, not at all amused. "You're a jerk, Mikki."

"So are you. Hey, we really are identical."

Angie popped his head up over the side of the truck bed, standing on one of the tires. "Vert, are you hurt?" he asked.

"Only my pride…"

"Oh, okay, groovy. Who's that guy?"

Vert blinked. "What guy?"

Angie indicated the screen of Vert's onboard computer, which displayed video footage of a scholarly looking man with white hair.

"Greetings. Because of the amazing skills you possess, you have been chosen to participate in the Ultimate Race."

"Oooo sounds like fun."

Alec shushed the drummer and listened intently. A similar message had popped up in Vert's car once before, almost four years prior. As a matter of fact, the same message was being broadcast and recorded to several cars across the continent, including a few in that same desert.

"Drivers from every walk of life have been recruited. An eclectic mix, if you will. We must work together in order to shatter the limits of conventional racing. I am once again looking for the greatest driver in the world…If that's you, then follow the map on the GPS screen."


A/N: God help me, but I almost called this race the "Secret Grand Prix." Can you believe that shizznit? I just couldn't come up with a better name. That's why I took so long to post! I couldn't have put this up with a crappy name like "Secret Grand Prix" for the race. Ughhh. I know Ultimate Race was one of the movies, but it sounds a heck of a lot better than Secret Grand Prix. Plus, I was already planning on calling the next one...Oh...wait, I can't tell you that. Oops. Anyway, read, review, cuddles, my nephew got born, his name is Dominic James, his eyes are gren, his hair is black, he doesn't cry much but he watches your every move like he's constantly learning. Adorable. Just adorable. Oh, yeah, plus my grandparents are coming up from Albuquerquee this Saturday and they'll be here until May 10th.