Alright, I'm back. Finally. Hopefully an enjoyable read for you all and, as always, appreciate it if you guys/girls leave a review. Not that I deserve any after updating after so long… but still. Thanks much. And of course, cheers for all the favourites and follows.
Chapter 13 – Damn… She's Good
Eragon PoV
Six hundred and thirty brake horsepower.
Six hundred and thirty bhp.
That's what the dynamometer graph is reading at its peak point.
"Holy shit... eighty five more horsepowers?!" I yell, my mind doing somersaults at the gain. Added to the hundred and thirty kilograms or so of weight loss as well from many heavy and unnecessary interior items, lighter engine parts and so on, the GT-R is looking pretty sweet.
"That's a sixteen percent increase, give or take." adds Arya, also looking at the laptop screen beside me.
After the whole hugging business, we both broke away after several seconds and things quickly became pretty awkward. Thankfully, Arya managed to defuse the thickening atmosphere by swiftly bringing our attention to the engine dynamometer and its setup.
Taking a quick peek at her face, I notice the earlier redness – clearly hugs are embarrassing for her – has faded.
"I'm pretty chuffed with that." Arya's phone chimes suddenly, her attention being pulled to it. "Who's that?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. She sighs in annoyance before replying.
"Just Wylandriah saying I'm on this afternoon for racing. I've no idea why she thinks I of all people would forget." Now I'm really curious. She's racing today? Finally, a chance to see her in action; I still pretend to put on an act of nonchalance though.
"Cool. What car do you drive then?"
"A Mercedes Benz SLR McLaren." she replies, in a subdued voice. A Merc, huh? It's the same car her boyfriend used to have.
"Isn't that an automatic?"
"It is but it has three manual modes which I've managed to tweak slightly."
"That still means no clutch though."
"A clutch isn't necessary for drifting Eragon. Slightly useful, yes, but not vital." A touch of exasperation enters her voice so I end the topic of conversation.
"I suppose so." Disconnecting my car from the dynamometer, I put the equipment away while whistling a tune casually. "You know who you're up against today?"
"Nobody knows who they're competitors are until the actual event itself; it just stops any cheating or tampering beforehand."
"Makes sense." I check the time on my phone, seeing how long there's left until this afternoon's race. Only an hour or so it seems. "I'm going to phone that spray painter guy Murtagh gave me the number to and get the Paladin's logo put on my GT-R. I take it you're probably heading off soon to get ready for this afternoon, right?"
"Actually, I believe I'll head off now since there's one or two things I need to discuss with Wylandriah before the start of the race." Disappointment unexpectedly courses through me at her words.
Shaking off the thoughts, I walk with her to the garage exit where I'm met with the site of the familiar black and orange Kawasaki Ninja motorbike.
"So you bought your bike with you. Do you use it a lot then?" I ask, curious about her preference between bikes and cars.
"A fair amount of the time." Well that's not vague at all. "I suppose I like to simply switch between cars and my bike often, and not just stick to one for a long time."
"Cars? As in plural?"
"'Cars' as in the Mercedes, as well as my mother's and father's cars."
" 'Course." I glance between Arya and her bike, the memory of the crash coming back to me briefly. "I guess I still owe you one for saving my sorry arse that night."
"True, you do need to repay me; I'll let you know when the opportunity presents itself." she replies with a cheeky smirk, lithely sliding herself onto the bike. My eyes also slither down her lower half at the same time, unable to help themselves.
Fuck. Me.
"Sure, right." I say, managing to get out some coherent response. She looks at me curiously, tilting her head slightly. "Sorry, mind blank." Who wouldn't get one at that sight?
She nods her head in response but with an unreadable look crossing her face. "Bye Eragon."
"See ya." With that, she puts her helmet on, covering her sleek, midnight hair, and speeds off.
People start arriving at the Paladin's base soon enough, quickly filling up the outside space with motorbikes and cars of all the factions. I walk over to Firnen and Murtagh who're setting up the viewing area, wires scattered all over the place.
"Need some help lads?" I ask, gesturing to the mess.
"That would be nice come to think of it." replies Firnen, himself struggling in a tangle of wires and sockets. I get to work, positioning the TV screens and tables.
"How's it happening today then? The usual sat-nav route and so on?"
"Actually, it's gonna be a bit different today dude. It'll be a tag-team race of sorts." calls Murtagh from over to one side.
"Yeah. There'll be three racers from each group and in total the race mileage will be about sixty miles or so."
"So each racer will have to go twenty miles before handing over?"
"Not quite." replies Firnen, holding up a finger. "Each driver will go ten miles before handing over to their team-mate but he/she then has to drive to their next checkpoint, to do a final ten miles. Of course, the idea is not to simply follow the race route on the sat-nav to the checkpoint but to find the quickest or shortest way possible."
"I like it; a bit of a mix up from the usual stuff I'm guessing for you guys, right?"
"Yup, sure is. Just livens up the events a bit as well as stopping everyone getting in their cars and fucking off from boredom." adds Murtagh. "Alright, hit the power dude. I think everything's plugged in and wired to go."
"Gotcha." I connect the two pin plugs and flick the power switch on outside the tent. The TVs light up, displaying the camera feeds via the laptops.
"Awesome. We're live boys; you mind telling the leaders and racers Firnen?"
"Sure." He walks away, leaving Murtagh and I to check the equipment for any faults.
"So… anything interesting happen when we left the garage earlier today?" asks Murtagh, a devious grin crossing his face. I groan loudly and flip him off, telling him to mind his own business. Bad call. "Something did happen! Spill the beans, gimme the details, all the juicy bits-"
"Can it already! Jesus… Nothing happened: we just talked and that's it."
"About what?"
"Stuff."
"What kinda stuff?"
"Casual stuff."
"How casual?"
"Since when did this turn into an interrogation?"
"Aw come on, dude. The tension between you and Arya is pretty much blinding our faces." I turn away, my face warming slightly. "Do you like her?"
"W-What? No, not in that way. We're just-."
"Friends? Bullcrap. Like that's never been said before." He gives me a hard stare, waiting for my response, and I crack. Somewhat.
"Alright. So I find her interesting. Still doesn't mean I like her in that way."
"Well, a reliable source of mine says she potentially finds you interesting as well."
"And what half-arse source is this?"
"Saphira. And before you say anything dude, you know she of all people, along with Nirya, knows her best." I pause before answering.
"That may be so yet her boyfriend of a few months died only a year ago i.e. she doesn't need me, or anyone for that matter, trying to cause any more complications in her life. God knows I wouldn't in her position either." My answer stills the conversation, Murtagh looking at me with a curious expression. He opens his mouth to reply but Saphira suddenly turns up, telling me the others want to talk.
"Wagwan?" says Raven as I approach, standing with Rum, Nirya, Firnen and another man who's unfamiliar to me. "This is Orik by the way, head of the Smithies. Orik, meet Eragon. He's the Paladins new recruit."
We give each other nods, Orik eyeing me with a curious face. "So, a newbie eh?" he booms, laughing slightly.
"Yeah, I guess so." I reply, taking the joke lightly but I'm starting to get pretty ticked off with this 'newbie' business. "You racing today then?"
"I am with my race partners Gromm and Odgar, along with Arya, Nirya and Wylandriah from the Wardens, Saphira, Thorn and Nasuada from the Paladins and Durza, Thonar and Barst from the Forsworn."
"Durza?" interrupts Saphira, walking over. "He rarely ever races; nobody even knows what car he has. What's made him come out today?"
"Who knows? Maybe the Forsworn boss had enough of his lazy ass attitude." replies Rum.
"Maybe. At least we'll finally see how skilled he is; he might not actually be that good."
"I doubt that very much." I say, interrupting and causing all heads to turn to me. "He has an Ascari A10. That's some serious super car material right there."
"An Ascari A10?! Fucking hell! That car is seriously rare; I'm pretty sure only about fifty of them were made." exclaims Rum, wide-eyed with shock.
"I haven't seen one of those around this afternoon. And even if it was, he'd be unable to race since the unanimous consensus is that rare cars are not allowed. Simply due to the fact that they're too bloody powerful and when tuned, races just become a ruddy joke." explains Orik, looking at Rum.
"That's good." I say, breathing out a sigh of relief along with the others.
"Oh it is for you lot, isn't it?" answers a voice from nowhere.
But it's one that I recognize all too well.
Arya PoV
"Ready to win tonight, Arya?" asks Wylandriah, standing behind me as I test the tyres and check the oil and water levels of my SLR.
"Hopefully. You know we can't underestimate Saphira, not to mention the dirty tricks the Forsworn might play."
"I take it Orik and co. in their muscle cars pose no threat then?"
"Most likely not. We both know they have two fundamental problems for races such as these: they're too heavy and horrendous around corners due to poor weight distribution. I just-" I stop talking abruptly, my eyes landing on a certain group of people fifty metres or so away.
"Arya? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, don't worry about it. I was just saying they never seem to learn." Shutting the bonnet, I lock the car and quickly head towards the crowd I was eyeing. "I'll see you five minutes before the race 'Landriah."
Picking up my walking pace, I start breathing more heavily from anxiety. There are two specific individuals in that crowd that should not be together right now: Eragon and Durza.
'Please, please don't start a fight here Eragon…', I think, the consequences of that happening running around in my mind.
"…and piss off too while you're at it." Seems things are already heating up, unsurprisingly.
"My, my. Such cold manners for your fellow racer." replies Durza at Murtagh.
"Fellow racer? You hardly even participate in any events. I bet the only reason you came out today was that your boss threatened to stop fucking you if you didn't actually race soon enough." The others snicker or roar with laughter at his comment.
"Humorous. How humorous indeed. The reason I showed myself is to assert my superiority over you maggots; I really hope you weren't entertaining the idea of winning since it would be sad to see your hopes crushed." While Durza's speaking, I take quick glances at Eragon who's stiffened up and balled his hands into fists. He hasn't even noticed I've arrived yet, unlike everyone else who have sent quick nods in my direction. "And Eragon? What a surprise to see you up and about after your… 'recent activities'. I suppose it's a good thing you're not racing otherwise I'd just humiliate you. Sort of like I did a few days-" He's cut off abruptly by Eragon's forearm slamming his throat against the wall behind them, the dark grin and jeering expression being more than enough to set him off.
"Eragon–" I say, stepping forward and trying to get him off Durza.
"Do not mock me. I can take you anytime, any day." seethes Eragon, anger dripping venomously from his voice.
"Really? That certainly wasn't the case the day before yesterday." Suddenly, Eragon pulls his fist back, ready to slam into Durza's face.
I catch his hand though, holding it firmly in place.
"Calm down, Eragon. Now's not the time or place." I state quietly, close to his ear; my other hand instinctively going to the back of his neck, trying to find a way to calm his rage. "If you start a fight, you'll cause all hell to break loose from the reaction of the other Forsworn here."
A tense few seconds pass, the others watching the scene uncertainly and confusedly. He still doesn't relax or let Durza go. "Eragon. Don't let him get to you. He's just trying to exploit that feeling of weakness you think you feel." Slowly, his hands loosen and he slowly releases his choke on Durza. "Just let him go and resolve this matter another day."
"That's right. Listen to your sweet, little girlfriend." remarks Durza, smirking triumphantly. I turn an ice cold glare onto him.
"You need to vanish. Now." Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he swaggers off to the grinning crowd of Forsworn members.
I turn back to Eragon who's watching Durza's retreating form, hate clearly rolling off of him in waves considering the look in his eyes. Saphira ushers the others away, including herself, giving me a look clearly stating 'we are so talking about this later but right now help him'. They head off into the distance, low murmurs and mutters emanating from them.
I'm at a loss of what to say quite frankly, so I ask the simplest question.
"Are you alright?" The response is a grim chuckle and a shake of the head. For some reason, that sparks my anger, a rare occurrence, and I let it loose upon him. "What were you thinking?! On second thoughts, were you even thinking since it seems that head of yours is empty! Starting a fight here, where there are at least fifty other Forsworn members gathered. Durza intentionally provoked you and you let yourself fall right into- Eragon? Where are you going? Eragon!" He simply turns around and walks off, ignoring my rant, with a forbidding expression plastered on his face.
Fine.
If that's how he wants to deal with it, like some sulky child, then so be it. I focus my thoughts on the race ahead and head back to my car.
"Racers! Please gather round and listen to today's layout." yells Wylandriah, gesturing to us. "Today will be a relay styled race, consisting of teams of three from each group, as you know. I'll summarise the basics again: sixty miles in total, with each driver covering twenty miles each split into two sections of ten miles. And remember," she says as we begin to walk to our cars, "the car at each checkpoint can't go until you've completely passed it. Try not to cheat guys." Unsurprisingly, she gives a pointed look at the Forsworn members, along with a few grunts of approval from the rest of us. They just smirk in response, clearly ignoring our warning.
"I swear, if they try anything funny-"
"Calm down, Saphira." I say, laying a hand on her shoulder. "There's no chance on Earth we're letting them beat any of us. Right?"
"You bet." she replies, the scowl on her face quickly replaced with a grin. "Come on, let's get to our positions."
Eragon PoV
I storm away from her, away from the crowds of people and away from the cars. Ignoring her calls, I walk on; my eye catches a low lying wall overlooking the main road ahead. I make my way over, sitting down with my legs dangling freely.
It's amazing how easily he got to me: with just a few words and a nudge in the right direction, I completely lose it. Revenge and fury takeover as soon as I see the bastard; rational thought is eliminated.
Then again, it's amazing how easily she manages to soothe my rage. As soon as her fingers touched the back of my neck, some fragments of sense returned. I still resisted but her words reduced my opposition to nothing. Not that I'd ever admit it to anybody but this fact… alarms me.
Up until now, no girl has ever had this effect on me.
Sure there were some fit girls back in Dagenham of which most of the guys chased after, but I wasn't one of 'those' type of guys. Were there any girls who took my fancy? A few, sort of, but there were only one or two that genuinely made me say 'Yeah, I'd really like to get to know her'.
Yet it seems like she doesn't want anyone to know what makes her… 'her', in a sense.
'Just the damn thought of her derailed my mind from Durza in an instant…' The thought plays in my mind as I carry on absently watching cars pass by below.
"Hey, Eragon!" I turn my head to see Murtagh jogging over. "Dude, I've been looking all over for you. The race has started, figured you'd want to see some of the action at least."
"Oh, right. Cheers." Climbing off the wall, I stuff my hands in my pockets and walk back at a leisurely pace with Murtagh.
"Are you, erm, alright?" he asks, concern marring his face.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."
"Do you mind telling me what happened back-"
"I'll tell you guys all later. Just leave it out for now. Please."
"Alright, dude. I'll hold you to that."
"Sure. And you really need to stop saying 'dude' so much. I swear you've suddenly started saying it a lot more for some reason." Some humour returns to me as I say this, brightening my mood slightly.
"Do I say it that much?" I nod slowly in response. "Damn. Sorry du- man." A snort of laughter escapes me as he corrects himself. "Hey, don't mock me dude!" There's a moment of silence, before, "Aww, God damn it!"
I start laughing my head off at this point as we walk on towards the viewing area. Murtagh just mutters something and flips me off, although I'm certain a tiny grin appears on his face as well.
Sobering up, I start flicking between the array of screens in front of me. Seems like this Barst guy is in the lead of the first leg but only just. Nasuada and Wylandriah are in joint second, practically on his back wheels, and Orik is similarly on their heels in a close fourth.
They're currently shooting down Branley Road, halfway into their first ten mile leg according to the monitors.
"Damn, this is tight. Looking at the bhp per tonne of each car, that's not too surprising since they're all pretty similar." comments Firnen.
"You're right. Barst's Saleen S7, Nasuada's MP4-12C, Wylandriah's Gallardo LP570-4 Superleggera and Orik's Ford GT: all of them are around 420-440 bhp per tonne I'd say." I reply, nodding in agreement.
"This Barst douche is still winning at the moment though…" adds Raven, a sour look on his face.
"For now. The changeovers will be crucial in this race." says Rum, chucking his input in too.
I focus my attention on the screens, anticipating the first changeover as all four cars drift expertly around this last corner onto Queensdale Road.
"Typical. Orik's GT swung so wide there; when will these Smithies learn that muscle cars just don't handle well at all?" asks Murtagh, snickering away.
"Probably never dude." replies Raven. "To them it's all about pooooower!" he adds, doing a perfect impression of Jeremy Clarkson from Top Gear.
"Dude, you're totally right!" says Rum.
"Can we please stop saying the word 'dude'? You guys love that word way too much." I say instantly, a touch of irritation entering my voice.
"Dude, chill out." answers Raven. I raise an eyebrow at him. "Oh, my bad." He coughs while grinning sheepishly.
The changeover happens fairly smoothly, with a few small billows of smoke coming from the wheel spin of the next set of cars as they set off. The Forsworn guy, Thonar, creates a bit too much wheel spin though in his Noble M400, allowing Thorn to get a good head-start in his Ferrari 599 GTO. Nirya, in her Lamborghini Murcielago LP670 SV, and the Smithie guy, Gromm in his Ford Mustang Shelby GT500, also pounce ahead of Thonar but still lag behind Thorn.
"It's kind of odd watching a race like this, from the driver's point of view I mean." I comment, waving my hand at the monitors.
"Yeah, I know what you mean. The first few times you watch a race like this it'll be weird but eventually you get used to it. It's the best we can do for now; we're hoping to get some new kit to aid viewing soon though." replies Murtagh.
"Fair enough." Thorn's still in the lead, a mile after the changeover. "Wow, Thorn's killing everyone. The Forsworn guy can suck it in last place."
"You're right but don't speak too soon."
"Why's that?" I ask, suddenly confused at Murtagh's anxious tone.
"Thorn's still relatively inexperienced as a street racer. He's only been in the game for four or five months and every time an awkward or difficult turn's come up in a race, he's gotten nervous and messed up. Right now, there's an upcoming U-turn on Princedale Road…"
Sure enough, as the four cars approach the U-turn, Thorn's 599 falters slightly and the backend swings out in a wider arc than the other cars as he slides around the bend, similar to what happened to Orik earlier in the first leg. He loses ground, while righting his vehicle to be straight again, and Gromm and Nirya whizz past as they have their own aggressive battle for first. Thonar's now equal second with Thorn, desperately trying not to fall behind once more.
I look over to see Murtagh sigh deeply, shaking his head slightly and rubbing a hand down the side of his face.
"He just needs to build up his confidence. How about you help him practice more often?" I suggest.
"I already do but I suppose, in the end, he'll become surer of himself with time. Guess it's just the old waiting game."
"I guess. He's probably kicking himself right now for stuffing up." As the cars hurtle down the street, I make out two figures walking on the pavement in the distance on one of the screens. My eyes widen slightly as I realise they're just about to walk past a huge puddle at the side of the road, which the cars are about to run over.
"Watch Nirya's front-view screen, Murtagh." He looks at me oddly before understanding dawns on him and he smirks evilly.
"This should be fun."
The timing is bloody perfect: right as the two people walk past the deepest and largest section of the puddle, the four supercars charge by. And the results are… well, it's not too hard to guess what they're like.
A huge wave rises up from the tyres hitting the large puddle of water, crashing into the two figures with a monumental splash. Needless to say, they won't be taking a shower anytime soon. The whole viewing tent erupts in jeers and laughter, with people replaying the scene dramatically; I have to admit, it was the 'classic scenario'. Everyone quietens down again soon enough, the intensity of the race quickly recapturing their attention again.
Arya PoV
The bonnet of the SLR shuts with a satisfying thud, as I finish my last checks of the engine.
"All good?" asks Saphira on the side, also checking her Audi R8 over before letting the bonnet drop and wiping her hands. I give a sharp nod in response before walking over to her. "Durza looks like he's doing something fishy, don't you think?"
"I agree." I reply, glancing over at him rummaging around in the boot of his tuned TVR Sagaris. "Likely it's-"
"Drugs."
"What? Saphira, that's absurd."
"You say that but he could easily be sneaking in a few crack lines before the first leg." I give her flat stare, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. "Alright, fine. It probably isn't drugs; way to ruin my line of thought there." she grumbles, sticking her tongue out at me.
"As I was saying, likely it's him fumbling around trying to find some cigs."
"Right. I forgot he was a smoker; filthy habit in my opinion."
"Agreed." Sure enough, Durza emerged from the boot with a lighter and a packet of JPS cigarettes but not before dusting his hands of some powder. Strange. "Saphira, did you- never mind." I cut myself off, realising it was probably just some dust.
"What? Did I what?"
"Nothing. I was likely imagining it."
"Right." She gives me a scrutinising look before brushing it off. "Since we're still waiting for our leg to start, I was going to ask you about what happened earlier." Her head jerks in the direction of Durza. I purse my lips and turn my head away.
"I don't think it's my place to say. You should ask-"
"Eragon? Well, duh. I'm going to ask him later but I'm more interested in what you said to him."
"I simply told him to calm down. That's all."
"Yeah, sure. You said that while your other hand was, you know, casually stroking the back of his neck." I narrow my eyes sharply at her.
"My hand was not stroking his neck!" I retort instantly, like the crack of a whip. "Stop making things up Saphira."
"Even so, you still came rushing over when you saw those two together. So something happened; Durza even mentioned something occurring a few days ago. Now spill." Sighing, I prepare to tell her about the fight.
My thought pattern's interrupted by the sound of car exhausts growling in the distance. Saphira and I both spring into action and I practically bounce into my SLR, starting it up instantly to warm up the engine.
Saphira mimics my actions, along with Odgar, but Durza lazily saunters into his car, all the while radiating smugness. Ignoring him, I focus my mind and look in the rear-view mirror for any signs of the approaching cars. A few impatient revs sound to my right but I ignore those as well. Fully concentrated on the race ahead, I push the conversation with Saphira to the back of my mind and wait for Nirya's car to rush by.
My wing and rear-view mirrors light up as her headlights come into view, several others doing so as well a few seconds later.
'Good, that means she's developed a nice little lead,' I think to myself, planning to make the most of it. My hands remain firm on the steering wheel, the right one lightly touching the paddle behind it.
The roar of the cars grows louder and louder, signalling their approach; Nirya's Murcielago should reach mine in a few more seconds. I look in the left wing-mirror, counting down the seconds in my head until I hit the accelerator.
'3...'
The aggressive front end of her Lambo looms into view.
'2…'
I retain my self-discipline, not letting my foot twitch at all.
'1…'
My head snaps forward once more and I floor the throttle as the distinctive lime green Lambo crosses beside me. The Merc lurches forward and the traction control helps prevent any significant wheel spin from occurring. Normally to do this, i.e. in a manual, I would bring the clutch to its biting point and wait until the car is moving before releasing it.
A quick glance to my right wing-mirror shows Durza's Sagaris also setting off, even though the other Forsworn member hasn't passed him yet.
Typical Forsworn cheater. Saphira was going to be extremely pissed off, no doubt.
Ignoring his underhanded tricks, I eye the sat-nav route to get an idea about the first few upcoming corners; the first appears to be a sharp ninety degree turn onto Ladbroke Road. Approaching the corner, I brake while down shifting from fifth to third and briefly turn in opposite direction of the corner. Almost immediately, I turn back in sharply, i.e. in the correct direction towards the corner, and this momentum causes the back end of the SLR to swing round.
This technique, the 'feint' or more commonly known in rallying as the 'Scandinavian flick', allows for a large amount of weight transfer to occur from the inside wheels to the outside wheels. This in turn allows for tight corners, such as the one I'm drifting around currently, to be taken at fairly high speeds. The downside is that it's a quite an advanced technique and sometimes hard to pull off if the driver doesn't catch the big swing of the car, using counter steering and the throttle. Fortunately, I've had this technique ingrained into me from practise with the Wardens and training from Oromis and Glaedr.
I nudge the accelerator just as the rear end swings out to control the back end and counter steer to control the drift angle.
'Hopefully this gives me somewhat of a lead ahead of Durza.' I think to myself, before looking in the rear-view mirror quickly while accelerating out of the corner. I see this isn't the case and mentally curse.
He'd performed the exact same technique - perfectly it seems - and was still biting at the heels of my Merc in his TVR.
Saphira and Odgar appear from around the corner in their respective cars a few moments later, the menacing looking front end of Saphira's R8 likely reflecting her own anger at Durza's cheating.
I swiftly reach the next corner - travelling at 110mph does tend to make you reach places quickly - and round it with another feint drift. A tiny smile settles on my face, with the familiar action of ripping the steering wheel back and forth bringing up memories of my first attempts at drifting.
A loud horn sounding somewhere behind me interrupts my thoughts. Looking in one of the wing mirrors, I see an 18-wheeler flashing its headlights rapidly at Saphira and Odgar. There must have been a close call there; likely those two suddenly appeared out of nowhere while drifting, in the lorry driver's point of view.
Speeding round a fast curve onto Bishop's Road, I flick the paddle behind the steering wheel to shift up to fifth and the rev-meter needle suddenly drops back down to 3000rpm from 7000. Still nipping at the heels of my car, I take quick glances in the mirrors every so often to keep an eye on Durza's Sagaris. I can almost sense he's hanging back for some reason, not making any attempt to overtake me.
It suddenly dawns upon me: he's planning to unsettle my car when drifting around one of the upcoming corners.
'Clever, very clever indeed… but you weren't subtle enough it seems.' I think, having seen through his ploy.
Just as I set myself up for feint drift onto Eastbourne Terrace, I brake sharply for a split second. As expected, Durza attempts to nudge the rear right corner of my SLR but my sudden braking causes him to instead knock the side of it, near the fuel cap.
I can almost imagine him yelling in frustration.
Due to his attempted bumping though, we're now neck and neck as we hurtle down the street. Unfortunately, the road is not exactly what you would call 'wide', with barely enough room for three cars width wise. For the first hundred metres, the opposite lane is empty but lo and behold a pair of headlights suddenly flickers into existence in the distance.
I grit my teeth in frustration: I have no choice but to drop back behind Durza, as he's closer to the kerb than I am. Down shifting to fourth gear, I slow down just enough to slot behind his TVR and wait impatiently for the approaching car to pass.
I slam down on the accelerator as soon as it does, pulling out and trying to level with Durza once more. Bad luck strikes again, however, as the next corner comes up just as my front tyres level with his rear ones.
I hit the throttle for half a second, to get a sharp burst of power during mid-corner and break the rear tyres' traction, and perform a power over drift due to the gentle nature of the curve. A roundabout immediately follows and we both shoot past it, taking the exit onto Bayswater Road.
This final section of the first leg is a long straight according to the satnav, presenting me with an opportunity to retake first place. I roughly compare the SLR's and the Sagaris' bhp per tonne: the stock SLR should only have a lower value by ten to twenty, yet both our engines have been tuned - Durza must have modified his engine; weight wise, the Sagaris is around 1 tonne and my SLR is 1.55 tonnes, after being stripped of unnecessary parts and replacing stock parts with light-weight versions (a standard process for all street racers in Kensington, so far as I'm aware).
Overall, I would say it's extremely close: roughly the same after all our car tweaking.
The road is much wider than Eastbourne Terrace, allowing me to pull out once more and attempt an over take.
Inching forward, I close the distance between the front of my Merc and the back of his TVR. I look further ahead in Durza's lane and spot an SUV going at 60mph only - compared to our 90mph plus speeds.
I take advantage of this and try to sidle my SLR closer to Durza in an attempt to 'half box' him in i.e. forcing him to brake when he nears the SUV ahead. He sees through this though and pulls a ridiculously dangerous move: he suddenly switches into my lane, his TVR only inches ahead of me as he does so.
'What an imbecile! His rear right tyre could have skimmed my front left one and, at these speeds, we would both have ended up in a pile of scrap metal…' I fume mentally, shaking my head at his actions.
We rush down the one mile straight and I switch lanes, before trying a last-ditch attempt to overtake him. It's futile in the end as my SLR only inches forward, relative to his Sagaris, as before and I rush past Wylandriah's Gallardo half a second after Durza passes Barst's Saleen.
It seems Saphira wasn't far behind at all, seeing as she passes Nasuada's Mclaren moments later. I'm not surprised by this - Saphira can definitely hold her own, despite having only been racing for as long as Thorn and Firnen i.e. only five months or so. She pulls up beside me as I set the satnav to find the quickest route to the start of the second leg.
"That- That… that cheating little shit!" And so it begins. "I'll rip his tyres to shreds and smash his radiator, before stabbing his-" I cut her off her rant, rolling my eyes at her over-reaction.
"Saph… Calm. Down."
"Calm down? Calm down?! Hell no, I won't calm down."
"I'm just as annoyed at him as you are - trust me on that - but we'll make him suffer in the next leg. Sound like a plan?" She smirks darkly in agreement, no doubt plotting some diabolical ideas in her head.
"I'll help too, if you want. Cheating is definitely not okay in my books either." says Odgar, pulling up beside both of us.
"Excellent. The more the merrier, I say." replies Saphira, grinning away. I nod in agreement: three drivers harassing Durza should hopefully cause some trouble for him. Although, I have to doubt whether Odgar can keep up in his Corvette ZR1 Mk2; no doubt it's fast but, as with all muscle cars, sloppy in the corners. He won't even be able to touch Durza, let alone get near him, based on what I've seen of Durza's drifting technique tonight.
Murtagh PoV
"So, whaddaya think of Arya's driving then?" I ask Eragon, who's almost dumbstruck looking at the screen.
"I… Damn, she's good." Chuckling at his response, I shake my head and watch as the first set of racers set off once more.
"Be back in a sec, I need to take a wazz." This causes Eragon to give me a funny look.
"A wazz? Why can't you just say a 'wee' or a 'piss' like a normal person?"
"Because I am a unique individual, whose verbal expressions are far beyond the comprehension of less illustrious people such as yourself." There's a pause for a few seconds.
"Riiiiight. Just go take your wazz or whatever." he replies, signalling me to go while rolling his eyes.
I head towards the arcade, planning to use the toilets in there, when my attention's drawn by some heated conversation close by.
"No, he said he wanted the shipments of white 01A through to 14A. Not white 01B to 14B."
"Don't be daft, I remember as clear as daylight him saying B. You need to get ya' ears cleaned out mate."
"Shut the hell up and clean your own ears out. Dur-"
"Quiet!" the guy suddenly hisses, waving his hands around frantically. "Don't mention his name; who knows who might walk by and accidentally eavesdrop on us?" He does a quick 360 degree turn at this and I dive behind a nearby car just in time.
'Safe.' I think, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. I slowly lift my head up, so that my eyes are just above the bonnet of the car I'm hiding behind.
"The whole point of doing this here is that nobody does eavesdrop on us. Anyway, let's get on with moving this crap; don't want the client complaining because of our lateness now, do we?"
"Oh hell no. He'll bloody skin us alive if he hears any complaints. Come on, let's hustle."
They both get into two cars nearby, Porsche Cayenne Turbo's, and turn off onto the main road nearby.
What the hell was that about? Wait, did he say white 01A? A fragment of that day comes back to me…
The packet is labelled 'White 09A' and is filled with white powder.
Oh shit.
Could it- no. I didn't even get a look at whatever they were transporting; it could mean something completely different to what was in my Dad's study.
Even though I don't know what that 'stuff' was. Yet.
I shake my head, trying to clear it off these thoughts, before heading towards the toilets. My attention is caught again by something else though: an Ascari A10 parked under a streetlight in the arcade car park. Didn't Eragon say Durza has one of these? My inquisitive nature gets the better of me and I saunter over to give the car a quick inspection.
Under the light, I can see it's yellow with two black stripes running along the top of it. I make a mental note of the number plate, before circling the car and looking for anything suspicious.
It could be Durza's car after all.
There's a couple of minor indentations in the front bumper of the car, suggesting it's been involved in some sort of accident. I peer through the door windows next to look inside the car, surprised at all the windshields being tinted. What would he want to hide inside his car?
'Looks like a 10% tint I'd say, give or take either way.' I think, assessing the colour of the glass. What I see lying on the passenger seat though shocks me instantly.
There's a packet of something but the label tells me all I need to know.
White 09A.
"Shit's getting crazier by the second…" I mutter, scratching the back of my head in utter confusion before heading to the arcade's toilets.
Pulling my phone out, I text Eragon as I walk.
Yo, quick question. Do you remember what Durza's Ascari A10's number plate was?
Erm, yeah. One sec, it'll come to me.
A tense few seconds tick by as I wait anxiously.
I remembered it. DZA 666. Why you asking?
I stare at the Ascari's number plate, the numbers and letters matching with Eragon's text, and I try to make sense of the pieces of this puzzle swarming around in my head.
Just been doing some investigating. Think I might've stumbled onto something. Explain to you and everyone else later.
Sliding my phone back into my trouser's pocket, I start going over what I've seen and heard in these past ten minutes.
Arya PoV - 20 minutes later…
My mood tonight has most definitely taken a turn for the worse, all courtesy of one individual.
Hint: he's a cheating little bastard.
We're all halfway into the sixth and final leg of the race, with Durza leading once again. He didn't start unfairly this time but that's because he didn't have to: Thonar had led the previous leg for the last hundred or so metres, allowing Durza to set off a second before Saphira. I followed half a second later, while Odgar, unsurprisingly, started last.
As we rush down Homestead Road, Saphira and I plan ways to payback Durza for his foul play.
"I say we full on ram him. No holding back." she suggests, her voice emanating from my phone on speaker mode in a holder. I sigh in exasperation for the tenth time in the last five minutes.
"Saphira… how many times do I need to say-"
"Yes, yes. We can't break our own rules and all that. Spoil sport."
"Our best chance is to attempt to nudge his car on one of the corners and hopefully cause him to spin out."
"I suppose that does sound like the best bet. I'm guessing we should try this on a sharp corner or bend?"
"Agreed. Though we'll need to be careful we don't end up spinning out ourselves."
"Well, there's a tight corner from Munster Road onto Dawes Road further ahead. I say we have attempt number one there." I glance at the satnav, quickly assessing the corner Saphira mentioned.
"It's worth a shot considering it's a 120 degree turn roughly."
"Then let's take it."
"First things first: we need to catch up to him before the corner."
"Well let's get to it."
I push the accelerator fully to the floor in response, having been holding back on the throttle to maintain a safe distance from Durza. Saphira responds in kind as well, her R8 lurching forward with my SLR.
Durza hits the brakes on his Sagaris up ahead but Saphira and I continue on with full throttle, lining up to bump the rear of his car while hoping to get some late braking in.
He suddenly initiates a feint drift, taking the corner much earlier than both of us expect; it's also another one of his dangerous moves i.e. potentially drifting across oncoming traffic in the opposite lane. Luckily for him, the nearest car in the other lane was 200 or so yards away.
"Argh, the sneaky sod! He must've caught on to our plan."
"We shouldn't have accelerated so abruptly."
"Guess we need to have a bit more finesse."
"Agreed. We'll try again on the corner onto Lillie Road which is much further ahead. Hopefully he takes the bait and thinks we've let off trying to bump him."
"In the meantime, here's hoping he makes a mistake or something."
Saphira and I race aggressively for the next few corners but we never attempt any nudges or bumps. Disappointingly, Durza doesn't have any slip-ups and effortlessly drifts through each corner.
I hear Saphira slam her steering wheel in frustration through the phone, letting out a growl of annoyance.
"This is utterly ridiculous. How is his drifting so refined and precise? He's easily at your level and even then some maybe. No offence, Arya."
"None taken. I must, reluctantly, admit his drifting skills are a step up from mine."
"Well, let's hope we can cause some damage on this upcoming turn then; Lillie Road is up next. What's the plan then?"
"We're still biting the rear tyres of his car, so we should be able to employ some subtlety this time. Line up to the left of his car and I'll do the same to the right; when his car begins to brake, hit full throttle. I should end up nudging the side of the car and you jolting his rear bumper."
"This better work: I want to see that d-bag spin out in a cloud of smoke. It's also our last chance since this is the last sharp corner of the race."
I set the plan in motion, moving into position and Saphira follows suit.
He barely reacts to our cars lining up either side of his: seems like his cockiness has gone straight to his head. This may just turn out in our favour.
The corner appears and he brakes as expected; I glance at Saphira and give her a small nod.
We surge forward as Durza begins his drift and the plan works like a charm: my front bumper hits his rear right wheel just as Saphira slams his rear bumper.
'Talk about perfect timing…', I think, unable to repress the corners of my mouth lifting slightly. I imagine Saphira's cackling like a maniac right about now.
Braking for a split second, we both swerve around Durza's Sagaris as it spins out wildly with the cloud of smoke Saphira was hoping for. I glance at his windshield to see him struggling with the steering wheel, attempting to wrestle the car back into his control.
A smirk slides its way onto my face almost immediately. Two versus one: it was never going to come out in your favour Durza, even with all your tricks.
We both brake sharply and take the corner normally, seeing as we almost ended up passing it completely while fouling Durza.
"Seems like your wish has been granted." I say through the phone.
"You bet it has. Gimme five, girl!" I roll my eyes at her excitement but stretch my hand out the passenger window anyway, slapping hands with her.
It's an easy straight to the finish but it's still a race: I'm still aiming to win. And so is Saphira, judging by the glint in her eyes as we both glance at each other. Our cars rush forward for the last time, a mini-drag race ensuing. My SLR gains the advantage however, the tuned engine outputting at least 30 more horsepowers than the tuned R8, and crosses the finish first; Saphira crosses a second later.
Parking our cars out of the way, we get out just as the others come over. I roll my eyes at Saphira's slightly irritated expression.
"You win some, you lose some Saphira. It was a close call."
"Or in your case, you win all of them." she says teasingly, clearly not that hung over the loss. The euphoria of causing Durza to spin out must still be coursing through her.
"That was sick! Well played ladies, well played." congratulates Raven, nodding his head in approval. Rum, Murtagh, Nasuada and Nirya all add their praises as well.
Saphira bows in response, basking in all the attention. "Oh please, you flatter me."
"Me?" I say, raising an eyebrow.
"Correction: you flatter us. Happy now?" she replies, winking at me to which I shake my head at in amusement. I look around, noticing Eragon was missing; I keep the thought to myself though, not wanting to make a scene.
We head back to the crowds of people near the viewing tent, commenting on the various legs of tonight race.
"I knew the Forsworn would cheat." says Saphira, annoyance entering her voice.
"For the love of God woman, you've said this precisely seventeen times now. Can it already." replies Murtagh, making a 'chatterbox' motion with his hands.
"I'll put you in a can in a minute."
"What can could hold this muscle?" he says, pretending to flex.
"Muscle? Puh-lease. All you have is-" She stops speaking as a group of Forsworn people stop in front of us, with Durza at the forefront.
"Are you stalking us? Because I sense a restraining order in your future, if you continue to do so." remarks Nasuada, earning a few snorts of laughter from the boys.
"Shut up, you arrogant bitch." he replies, his face contorted in anger. Murtagh narrows his eyes at him, taking a step forward.
"Say that to her again you slimy piece of crap, I dare you." He ignores him completely, instead flipping out a switchblade and pointing it at Saphira and I.
"You two caused me a lot of humiliation back there."
"So, what? You're gonna cut us up now? Over reaction much." says Saphira, her voice confident but her body tensed like the rest of ours at the sight of the knife.
"Maybe I will."
"Back off, Durza, you fucking psychopath. It's just a race: there's no need to be so sore about it. You earned yourself that humiliation by cheating anyway." says Rum, stepping forward beside Murtagh too; both of them in a threatening stance.
By now there were others surrounding us, Forsworn on Durza's side and the other groups on ours.
Suddenly he lunges forward towards Saphira, attempting to slash her torso or arms. My eyes widen and I take a step forward but not before someone's forearm shoots out, deflecting Durza's knife arm.
Their hand slides down Durza's forearm and grabs his wrist, bending it inwards while applying pressure above his elbow i.e. hyper-flexing it. Durza's face twists in pain and we finally get a look at Saphira's saviour.
My eyes widen and the rest stare in absolute shock: Eragon was the one who had leaped out from the crowd and was currently dispensing yet more punishment.
He places Durza's wrist below his hip, while placing a foot behind Durza and pushing on his triceps. The action causes Durza to dramatically fall, clattering to the ground with a sickening thud. Eragon's then steps on his knife hand, applying pressure going by the distressed expression on Durza's face.
"Didn't your mummy teach you not to play with knives?" he remarks, his jaw clenched and a sinister expression plastered on his face. Bending down, he rips the knife from Durza's fingers before stepping back towards us. "Scat," he hisses with a wave of the switchblade.
Durza staggers to his feet, glaring darkly at Eragon. They both stare at each other for at least half a minute, the atmosphere quickly thickening.
Durza turns away abruptly, his goons following him and the entire Forsworn crowd dispersing with angry murmurs.
I turn to Eragon to find him looking at the switchblade impassively, twirling it around casually in his hands. He looks up at us, breaking out into a grin at our expressions of incredulity.
"What?"
And cut. A lengthy chapter there to try and make up for the 8-9 month unofficial hiatus. All I can really do is apologise many times over. The main reason I couldn't update was I just severely underestimated how much free time I would have at uni: I simply had, well… none. Studying, sport, socialising, studying, etc. You get the picture. Even in the holidays dos bastardos dumped coursework on me.
Now I'm free. Exams done. First year of uni done. Just free time. Also, I've already written half the next chapter (I promise I have - 4500 words) so hopefully that'll be up next weekend i.e. I'll try my hardest to get back to my once or twice a week update schedule.
Anyways, enough of my rant. Review, follow, favourite as always please guys and gals. Always appreciated (I felt quite bad not being able to update as new reviews still came in during my term time at uni) and it will definitely help me write faster in my free time. :D
Notes:-
-'d-bag' = douchebag. More English slang.
-Switchblade = a knife with a blade that folds into the handle. Normally spring loaded, activated with a button or something.
-Eragon needed something to make him stand out a bit so I decided to give him some mad knife skills. He has one or two other quirks as well, like the rest of the characters (e.g. Thorn boxing skills) which will be revealed in future chapters.
-Durza's a psycho (a few chapters ago in the mysterious PoV you read how he's used to 'persuade' clients) so pulling a knife isn't so out of the ordinary for him. Also he wasn't really going for a kill, more just wanting to hurt her like cutting some skin open.
-'Wagwan?' originates from African/Jamaican slaves I believe, a greeting in one of their dialects. Sort of urban slang nowadays.
Any other questions? Feel free to ask in review or PM.
Review repies (to guests since I can't PM them):-
-twinscrewcomps: 'Cus I like catback. So meh lol.
-Guest (Sept 20, 2013): Yay! I still feel like I over complicated things last chapter.
-Guest (Sept 24, 2013): Thanks much for compliments. :)
-Guest (Oct 8, 2013): The specs are just there for people interested so no worries. And nice, hope you enjoyed it. I'm not an avid fan of A7x but I like most of their songs though.
-Black Trinity: Awesome, I like that I'm spreading the knowledge of cars. ;) And hypercar? Naw, GT-R SpecV is a baby compared to proper hypercars.
-ILove FanFics: I agree, Eragon was such a pansy. Murtagh PoV next chapter so stay tuned.
-Guest (Feb 11, 2014): Another flamer who has no account. Surprise, surprise. And read my profile dude/dudette. I express opinions, I'm not forcing this down anyone's throat. Plus you seem to express completely unjustified statements so your argument is null concerning Arya.
-Ikamuzu Oturan: here be ye chapter. Happy? :)
Cars:-
-I've decided to stop doing the car details since people who are interested can go look these stats up on the internet easily. Just keep in mind stock engine power, speed, etc will be modified as cars are tuned in this story.