Sonic was in the dimly lit hookah lounge in Casablanca. Sonic looked over at Tails, who was coughing from the smoke hanging in the air. The two looked out of place with the other patrons, as they were wearing their racing suits. Ibrahim motioned for them from the back, and they headed over in his direction. He had a long beard, dressed in the regalia of the Arab upper class. He had two women on either side of them, both wearing belly dancer outfits. Sonic sat, and Tails did the same. Ibrahim Muhammed el-Khan was a figure in the racing world. A self-made billionaire of the Mediterranean shipping industry, Ibrahim bought and sold racers all over the world.
"So, we heard from Uday you wanted to hear us" Sonic told him. Ibrahim took a hit of the hookah and blew it right in Tails' face. He coughed a lot.
"I know you're a top contender to win the North Africa Race. I have a proposal for you. The grand prize is $20 million American dollars. I will give $200,000 American dollars for each driver you take out of the race" Ibrahim said. Both looked surprised.
"Do you have any other proposals? We won't do that" Tails asked him. Ibrahim took the drinks off the tray from a scantily clad waitress.
"You could throw the race for me. Help my driver win, and I'll give you an additional 5 million American dollars along with the 12 million American dollars second place prize" Tails took a sip of the drink before looking disgusted. It was alcoholic, and Sonic asked a passing waitress if Tails could get a non-alcoholic drink, and she said she would come back with one for him. Ibrahim wasn't pleased.
"Uday brought you to me because he said you were one of the best. I am disappointed you aren't doing what I want" The waitress brought Tails his non-alcoholic cocktail. Sonic wasn't impressed.
"I'll take the first offer on second thought, since I don't like losing" Tails spit out his drink in shock. A man with a fedora pulled over his eyes and a trench coat turned around towards them. Sonic finished his drink, and gathered Tails. The man in the trench coat and fedora stopped them. He took the hat off. It was Andrew Rizzo, one of the top 25 ranked racers in the world according to the IRC (International Racing Commission).
"You don't know what you're doing" he said to them in his Brooklyn accent.
"What do you mean?" Sonic asked him. Andrew brought them outside. The bright sunlight contrasted with the dark lighting of the hookah lounge.
"I did one of his deals once. It didn't work out" Andrew said. "I had to finish top 3 and he would give me additional $1 million. I placed forth. He took everything. My wife. My son. My mama. My best friend. Gone because I didn't place podium"