This chapter include my own OC exposition as to how Tanner viewed the beginning races from each game . I focus more on how he got the M3 GTR, seeing as it is remarked as a hero car all the time, and played a big part on how the campaign was shaped. At the very end, I'll be asking those who read a question. 1 answer is all it takes. Hope you enjoy.
"Don't disappoint, not again."
And just like that, he was off towards the inner city. I was back in town for the long haul. My reputations, and my relationships need serious buffing back up. I thought back to Rockport and everything seemed Deja Vu. Losing my ride, starting with nothing, working my way back up. What got me the most was the whole territory ordeal; sure the 4 major crews held down their ends of the city for years on end, and now all of the sudden some 5-6 crews start deciding they want a slice? I didn't dwell on it. With no real sense of choice or options, I follow Nikki into her GT, and we proceed down the rest of the canyon into Silverton, it being Darius's territory, nobody would impede.
On the ride down, for the first time since I initially left Palmont had I uttered a singular word. It felt so foreign to hear my voice again, but changes had to be made.
"Nikki…." I began, but that's all she would let me say, as she interrupted and erupted on the spot at the mention of her name.
"Day one back in town and you're already trying to make small talk like we're best buddies, huh? Don't hold your breath, Tanner. Every crew in the city hasn't forgot that night down in the industrial yard. You NARC'd the entire race, and played it off as a scared racer boy, with an exit at the ready! It was no wonder you were the only one who got out. Half the spectators were detained just being on the scene."
She finally exhaled and slit her eyes towards the road, refusing to make eye contact with me. "Darius told me everything, and everything added up. So go ahead, formulate a story that contradicts mine, with evidence, and we'll see how conversations go from then on."
"Until then, you sit down, you shut up and you follow my instructions."
Having never really said much, and absorbing all the pure hatred and disdain from years prior to heart, hearing Nikki come out with all this was a blow directly into my feelings, and I almost let flow a dam of a emotions I've held up with weak links since from Olympic City to now. I emitted a deep sigh and just sat in silence, not wanting to cause another event. I drifted off to sleep for a bit, arm on the window, hand on head. The events of today and my aching muscles deteriorating my mental and emotional states.
Day 1 in Olympic City. A race beginning in the heart of Downtown saw a total of 4 cars on the line. One in particular was the Vortex kitted out Acura Integra, the driver behind the wheel stoic, and ready for the signal to launch. Beside him was an Eclipse GSX, a Celica GT-S, and a Supra, fully decked out in kits, lights, and most importantly under the hood aftermarket. This was the peak point of the import/tuner revolution that spawned from U.S sanctioned docks and seaports years earlier. If it wasn't an inline 4, or it was strictly Japanese branded, nobody wanted to touch it. The concrete walls of the surrounding building reverberated the noise of the crowd, and the crowded engine bays put out on display. This race, would be unlike any other. It took no longer than a minute of confirming no police presence, redirecting traffic, and purging the air from the NOS tanks to get the ball rolling. She raised up her hands, fingertips grazing the horizon from the point of view of those inside the cockpit. As her limbs and fingers descended, the throttle and clutch pedals switched positions, and the transmission found itself gated in 1st gear with RPM's gliding well past redline. In the blink of an eye, all contenders bolted off the starting block...
...Bayview County, a lot more open and acculturated place than I've ever been. SUV's Muscle cars, even some exotics dominate the racing scene on the west coast. Underground racing leagues, airport drags, sprints across towns. This area had it all. After boarding off the airport terminal, my eyes cast upon a green figure in the distance. Curiously, I approach it, and the the closer I get the more detail my peripherals catch. It was a breathtaking sight. A wide body kitted out Nissan 350z. Carbon hood, purple dragon tribal decal, even a wing to set the stance in place. I tried the remote unlock, and sure enough, there was my taxi; in the flesh. The VQ35 growled to life under my instruction, and with that, I peeled out of airport parking with my ass end sideways into the new. After stalling it out what seemed like 5 times, I got used to the deadzone in the clutch, and was able to start shifting and rev matching with ease. Time to get acquainted with the town.
...It took roughly about a week to travel cross country back to the center of Tri-State area from Bayview. Although having the option to go back home to Palmont, I didn't feel I was ready. Something seemed…..incomplete. I couldn't hit the nail on the head and figure out what was holding me back. As I kept seeing signs entering Rockport, there was no going back, another new adventure to embark on. This was the time I had collected a Nissan Skyline GT-R from my wealth and riches back in Bayview, and it came in handy. Passing through smaller towns nearing my destination, I stopped and drove around a few of them. As I did so, I saw the front end of a BMW M3 sitting in a dusty abandoned-looking shed. It was considerably wider than most M3's are accustomed to. Having a tarp draped over the front of it, I tore it off, revealing a 1 of 10 homologation race car, bred for slick asphalt and top end.; a GT-R. Not just any GT-R, but an M3. A BMW of all things.
From the shack behind the shack, a man dressed in a greasy-stained sweatshirt and sweatpants came out front. Seemingly out of the thin air, appeared a loaded Glock-19 semi, in the hand of the man in front of me.
"Get lost, punk. You aren't stealing this one from me. Over my dead body. Literally."
I knew I could easily take down his frail figure and leap off with the keys, but I also knew better than that. This was still the time I pretended being mute, and pointed to the car behind him and held up my wallet. I had to have that car. It had such a polarizing immersion to it. Refined, but rugged. Slick, but streetwise. Road car, but for the track. Surrendering his weapon, he collapsed to the floor; I caught him before his skull decided to have a friendly greeting with the concrete.
"My entire life savings were poured into this car. Of course me being on the teetering edge of life and death, this car right here served as my insurance policy, with last month being the last I could pay for it. 3 people have tried swindling her from out underneath me. I want to know you'll take good care of her. To give her life out on the open road that I couldn't. Please, tell me you can do so."
He broke into a coughing fit, and I felt my heart drop at the sight of him. I had the power and the wealth to give him a finer lease on life. I wanted so desperately to be the benefactor he internally wished for, but at the same time I wanted his car, and felt guilty for splitting my desire on such a petty investment. That being said, I held up a stack of 150,000$ and motioned for him to hop in my car. Confusion clouded his face, but he showed no signs of resentment. It took not even 25 minutes to pull up to a local hospital and have him admitted. 3 days and time in the waiting room was all it took for him to come out looking years younger. He came up and gave me a hug, and sobbed into my shoulder. We exited the hospital together, and he held up the keys to his car. I was ecstatic to be able to provide service to a man in desperate need. As we returned back into his driveway, he motioned for me to talk to him one last time.
"You did for me what the government couldn't be bothered to deal with, and did it without resentment. You got a good heart kid, and I know about your whole Bayview ordeal, this old man has a few connections out on the westside. I'm willing to bet you've met my granddaughter Rachel? Seeing the way you've driven and outmaneuvered the competition gives me no regret in handing you my girl. I hope whatever you decide to do with her, you make it fast, you make it reckless, and you report back to me; I want to hear how she does for you. Good luck out there kid, give 'em hell."
I smiled broadly at him, and with that, I fired up the 4.4L V8, and drove my way out of there, leaving the keys to my Skyline and the car there for him to enjoy. He deserved it.
Finding a safe haven from cops, I ordered a racing widebody it from the manufacturer itself, and performance parts for the motor, in addition to removing the restrictor plates and opening up the diameter of the all the intake and exhaust inlets. Once my aerodynamics and power output were sorted, with the help of a few more parts, It was time to design her.
I settled on a wave-esc design. A light-steel colored paint scheme with midnight blue wavy accents adorning the hood, sides, hood and trunk; I got to work. Masking every open crevice and orifice like a college student with severe OCD. Every pass with the brush I made sure was dead even. And pinstriping the finer edges of the vinyl took all of my concentration, but the final product was totally worth it. My screamin' demon. My Mona Lisa.
My renegade. My champion. My partner.
Entering Rockport City within the confines of my new furbished M3 was such a drone. Traffic wouldn't let up and I had no place to open up the throttle. I came around a 2 lane split and passed a lighthouse on the left. In my rear view I hear what sounded like a Rotary on my left side. As it pulls up, I see none other than a female behind the wheel. Curly blonde hair, a rounded face, and a whole lot of smile. She nodded to me, downshifted the rotary car and flew ahead, kicking up smoke in the process. Unfamiliar with the area, I played it safe and kept my distance behind her. Soon enough we entered what looked to have been Downtown. Approaching a red light, she must've seen something I didn't because she slammed on the brakes hard. I did the same, and simultaneously, a Corvette speed over from the opposite ends and powerslides in front of our cars. The girl got away, but I was pinned.
I was abruptly woken from my stupor when Nikki's GT crested the cobblestone path into a high end dealership. She circled around with her nose pointing at the entrance, probably hoping to make a quick exit. Of course that led 3 sets of headlights to be shone directly into my eyes as I stepped out of the low-hanging supercar.
A big guy with a mullet, chops, and an orange Hawaiian shirt came running out from behind one of the cars, him probably being the one who arranged them out here.
"Thanks for waiting up" If that long winded sigh didn't encapture her mood perfectly. I'd be hard pressed to find what would.
"Yeah, yeah, sure...yeah. So uhhh…..who's the third wheel…?"
"Doesn't matter." She glances over her shoulder at me. Darius made all these cars available to you. Pick one, whichever one you want."
"Hey um…..if there's 3 do I get one? I-I mean I don't care which one although I am partial to the one with the sweet rims." I suppose this guy is more along the lines of busboy for the crew. Underappreciated, but he still hangs around to be a part of something. I feel for the guy.
"Why don't you just make sure the tanks are filled." As if on cue, my suspicions were confirmed.
"….That's great... I'M THE MONKEY." And with that, he stomps off, clearly pissed. But Nikki held such a smug grin, almost as if this got her off. To see the misfortune and suffering of others. Now I really began to think what 3 years away did to her.
Pick one, lets get this over with." With agitation present in her tone, I didn't want to push her buttons. So I swiftly inspected each and every car.
I began my investigation with the classic '69 Camaro SS. Off the bat, I knew cornering capability boiled down to entering each and every bend sideways, but the amount of countersteer and angle would make the difference between a clean exit, and fishtailing onto the sidewalk, running the lines wide. What it lacks in swift motion, it makes up for in low-end torque and burly V8 Americana. Easy car for recovery. If I chose a pursuit vehicle, this would be my tank of choice. The other 2 are fragile non-domestics, and would crumple under contact.
Option 2 comes in the form of an Italian body, an Alfa Romeo Brera. It being front engine-front drive, left much to be desired in the cornering department, though it does fair substantially better than the Camaro would. Decent power to weight, finding torque and climbing the RPM's in the mid-high range of the tachometer. This would have be driven at top end for its statistics to really shine through. Looking past everything else, this car essentially stands as middle ground between my 2 options. Power and handling statistics plop in dead center of its 2 rivals.
Finally I round off to the Mazda RX-8. Straight away I thought to the Bushido crew leader, and his RX-7. I knew torque was an issue, seeing as it is a 1.3, and it is no conventional internal combustion engine. Cornering capability ran off the charts, with its low center of gravity and significantly advantageous redline of 9,000; It was bred for cornering. Now the RX-8 would more than likely follow that same line of statistic, factoring in its bulgy, rounded off shape. To get the most out of this car would be to begin in the city, not alot of room to pick up ground in the compacted city streets. Modification is a must, and would need to be as soon as possible.
So. What's it gonna be?