Gone
"Sorry, Brick. My mind's made up. I'm giving your number to someone new."
Lightning just happened to overhear the conversation going on between his friend Brick Yardley and his sponsor. No. This couldn't be happening. Now, it would just be him and Bobby. All of the other veterans had either retired or been fired, including Cal and now, Brick. They were all gone.
Deep down, Lightning knew it wasn't exactly Storm's fault. It wasn't his fault that he and other Next Gens were younger and faster than he was. It was just a law of nature. Still, every time Storm lorded it over him, he couldn't help but feel angry.
He supposed he couldn't fault him too much, though. He was much the same when he was a rookie. Cocky, arrogant, self-centred. But he'd had one thing Storm and the other Next Gens didn't have: respect for his elders. Sure, he thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread when he first arrived on the scene, but there was no hiding his admiration and respect for the legendary Strip Weathers.
Now, looking at the endless unfamiliar faces (noting that they looked like babies, even though they were about the same age he'd been when he'd started), Lightning knew what they thought of him: an old timer. Washed up. A has been. Whatever happened to respect?
Wow! I'm really getting old! Lightning thought to himself. Under normal circumstances, he might have laughed at this.
"Hey! Bobby! Do- Do you know what's happening with Brick?"
Lightning got the shock of his life when a Next Gen race car, sporting Bobby's racing colour, number and sponsor rolled out of the garage. He was followed by an African-American human rider.
"Wait, You're not Bobby!" Lightning exclaimed, still in shock.
"Name's Danny, bro", the Next Gen race car introduced himself. "This is Joey."
Joey, his human rider, nodded casually. "Sup?"
Uh-oh!