FOREWORD: I, HashiriyaGDB, am submitting this Initial D facfic on behalf of Midnight Dorifuta, the author of this fanfic and a fellow user on the Initial D World Forums. The only things I've done to this is correct some (if not all) the typos.

All trademarks are owned by their respective owners.

Chapter X-03 - A Blast...

November 17th, 1987. Neo-Tokyo, Japan.

I came here on a business trip with a couple of associates when I heard the rumor that the boys may be coming into town on a track that is currently being built somewhere in this country. I have to say, this is an interesting little place and a neat little country that has really rebuilt itself since the tragedy eight years ago. My impression of Japan and the society they run and the people they are is a lot different than what my father used to preach to me, and that's understandable. After all, in his day, this country was the enemy to us. But I'm mature enough to separate the past from the present, and times change. To add to the fact, I hands-down think the whole world needed to share some love back in 1980.

At the moment, I'm currently walking down the streets of this still being-rebuilt city, although their project here is nearly complete. It's kind of interesting that even in a country as far away as Japan, a few people were able to identify me. I'm sure it's not uncommon at all for people to mask their identity with a moustache and maybe sunglasses to go with them, but how in the devil are you supposed to make yourself less conspicuous when those glasses and moustache are your signature identity? I find it even more amazing that anyone knows who I am. This isn't exactly a country fueled by big-displacement motorsports like drag racing.

My partner Rich is here with me as well, and to be honest, my good buddy is pretty enthusiastic about Buick's introduction to a "new car" here in Tokyo, of all damn places. Stepping my way down the narrow sidewalks, I had a little bit of a chat with him.

"Hey, Rich, can you tell me again why Buick's introducing a new car in Japan?"

"Well, actually, my friend... Buick isn't publicly introducing the car here, but rather, showing you exclusively what they have up their sleeves. It's the version of the car that won't see production, it's right out of GM's skunkworks, and I heard it's not even street legal."

I slowed my pace a little, taking the extra effort to stare him down, honestly a little shocked. "But what do I have to do with this? Why not pull out Bobby Allison or the likes? They actually drive Buicks. Not me. What kind of marketing stunt is this?"

"To be honest, I'm not too sure myself. But I know one thing - you'll be racing this car on the streets."

"And get arrested, Rich?" I chuckled a little, knowing he was probably kidding.

"Actually, one of the higher-up city officials by the name of Gendou Ikari wants someone to take down this 'Ghost Double-X' and the whole city racing world is watching."

I paused, though my feet continued carrying my 30-something year old body along. Then, I looked at him dead-on as we walked, finally making sense of just a little of this
culture. "This ain't nothin' like my home country, is it, Rich?"

"Apparently not.", he replied, giving my shoulder a firm pat as me and him reached the final destination, a small building with the GM corporate logo painted on the door. Richard lead me into the small garage, where the car sat under a silver cover. Its body shape looked just like my Sunday ride, including the aero window, so I really didn't think it was a Buick of any sorts.

The few men who were there in the garage took immediate respect to my presence, kindly introducing me to the place and telling me about how well they've been coming along. Among the enthusiastic group of tuners was a man by the name of Reeves Callaway. Another was someone my age named John Lingenfelter. Both of them were a bit of rivals since they both got their hands dirty on some of GM's finer cars but had different ways of making power, but seeing both of them in the same room was a sight.

I wanted to see just what the whole stink was about, so I eyed the project leader, who went by the name of Bricklin. Bricklin... as in the sports car Bricklin? He looked to be about 40 or so, dressed in a bucket hat and casual shirt, knowing no sense of formality in this little buisness deal. He was the first to lead me to this car, giving me a confident grin.

"And this sir, is called Project Black Cat. It's not legal by any means, but it's what a few grease monkeys can whip up when they're bored. Feel free to eye the whole car up. She's wicked fast." He pulled off the cover of the car, and to say the least, I was suprised at what I saw. It looked like a bone stock '87 Buick Regal- No, wait, not the Regal... that Grand National car... excpet for one thing. It sported the Aero roof that made my work car so competitive. It looked... mean, and agressive. It seemed to breathe agression. And the fact the car, spare the few badges here and there, was all black-on-black, it was something I could appreciate. All in all, this car looked complete, and suited to me. I grinned, liking it. All it was possibly missing was a few Goodwrench decals, and I'd be sold.

"Wicket fast, eh?", I asked. Looking from behind, the car had two crazy-large stainless tailpipes sticking out of it. Did they shove a big block in this thing? I had to give it a look. "Pop the hood!", I said, making my way to the front of the car. When Callaway opened it, my inital reaction was one of disappointment.

Just a little V6? This car's supposed to be fast? Well... it did have two of those turbocharger devices. And what looked like a second radiator shoved in front of the first. Still, for a man who grew up around engines weighing more than some of these little Japanese cars, it didn't look very impressive. "Doesn't look lime much", I said plainly. Bricklin laughed a little, nodding. "Knowing from where you could come from, I can see where you're coming from, sir. But please... take this car for a spin before you make any judgements about the 3.8's potential."

"It's the new age", said Lingenfelter. "I'm not too crazy over it, but this is the new wave of technology that will permanently show huge V8's the back door. It's called turbo tuning... and once I got into it, and we tweaked the car... as we continued to build the engine to suit the turbo's needs, the potential just sky-rocketed." Callaway patted the left side turbine, then spinning the compressor blade with his finger. "Finely machined ball bearing turbos with intercooler technology and electronic engine tuning. It's rediculously expensive, but it's amazing what power you can see with this."

Okay. I'll admit it. I was slightly curious. "Well, I'll hold my opinion until I take 'er for a spin, then." Bricklin tossed me the keys as a few of the other engineering techs grew a sparkle in their eyes, and although I was calm, I sensed a whole bunch of tension, anxiety, and anticipation amongst everybody. Well, even I was a little eager... just a little. Rich looked excited, so that had to be saying something. Although I knew I'd never see this back home in my work car... this seemed like a neat little project.

So my mission became hunting down this ghost car while I cruised around on Tokyo's highways, dubbed "wangan". I didn't open her up just yet... I was waiting for this brown Toyota to appear out of nowhere. A Toyota... They make pretty interesting drag racers, them old early 70's Celicas, when guys strip 'em out and put in Boss 429's with posi-traction rears... but here in Japan, I doubt that's the way these kids run these machines. Besides, I heard this one was newer... perhaps that new Supra model? That comes with a turbo too, I think.

Well, it seemed about an hour into my ride that we'd meet face-to-face as the night wore on. It was about a quarter past midnight when I heard someone a-chargin' my way. I eased on the pedal just a little bit, and heard a whistle from under the hood that reminded me of the team transporter's semi. The car was charging in quick, and before I could even floor it, the sunovabttch was about to pass me. I grabbed for second gear and put pedal to metal, and for a second, it seemed like a little power was there... but then...

"Holy shit!"

Now I understand what he meant! The horsepower those turbos kicked up damn near threw me into my seat, and the car leaped forward like a bat out of hell. These turbos definately gave an otherwise gutless small engine loads of power... the same kind of power and torque that I used to drive with when I was green and worthless in racing. I heard the sound of that brown car blow by, too... looked like that not-too-great looking generation of Celica, maybe a Celica Supra if they were around back then... but that thing sure didn't sound like no foreign box! It was mean and rowdy, and it was pulling away on me.

Before I knew it, the engine was tach'd out, so I threw 'er into third... and seconds later, maybe 7 or so, fourth, which was the top gear. I was now in a zone of speeds much familiar to me.. and so far, the car was handling beautifully, feeling just like my weekend ride... but just a bit squirrely because of the tires and lack of a proper spoiler on the decklid. Rolling down my window, I stuck my hand out, and felt the wind draft as I tried to tail this mother. That car didn't punch much of a hole in the wind as my car did, and the draft was a little weak... but it was there.

But then we ran across a curve... and a nasty one, at that. I saw him check up, and followed suit. But it was pretty clear he'd been running this course for quite some time as he flied around it, putting easy distance on me as I finagled with the controls and got a suprising first taste of how well a live-axle car could run when tuned right. It actually wasn't half bad... felt just like a road course special, just with a lot less grip and a lot more speed. Eventually, I gained on him, it being clear that I had more power - maybe seventy-five to a hundred more horsepower. But, it looked like my luck was against me here as we approached more of these bends... his driving flat-out impressing me, the way he could shoot through the perfect groove. This game of cat-and-mouse lasted a good ten minutes, each time me falling behind just a little more. I was hoping to have an edge of course-knowledge experience for a second lap, but out of one of the tightest corners... we was just... gone.

Even on the longest straightaway, where I thought I'd catch up a little, I didn't see a sliver of his car. It just flat-out vanished into thin air. Did he turn off? It was odd, because I didn't see any off-ramps. But damn... I'll say something and say it clear, out-pacing a guy with this many laps under his belt - not enough to call himself an excellent wheelman, but enough to know his ropes - is a feat, especially with a low-horsepower car. I got the shaky feeling this might have been the ghost of Mark Donahue finding a new playground to mess with the minds of living boy racers, but that thought was just silly. Still... I wonder if I'll ever see that Celica or Supra again.