Act VII Special: The Race
Reno, Nevada - Mid June, 2029
In the heart of a hot summer's night, with a crescent moon overhead, cemented into the cape of darkness, a purple classic Nissan Skyline R34 similar to the ones seen in street racing movies, maneuvered professionally through the cracks and crevices of the street system, having escaped far from the center of the city where the casinos and hotel resorts lived, breathed and sucked the money out of the rich and daring dumb. This Skyline, a customized brand of an upgraded V-tech engine, twin turbo installation, a lowered suspension, and a dark red rim layout for all wheels, was a stick shift brand driven by a female pro, a somebody who had a name once some years back, loved by many as a legal racer in the world of NASCAR. Why, this driver had met The Stig even, raced internationally, her best work having been in the Nurburgring, and it was only that track for she had a sponsorship that had allowed her to use a Koenigsegg Regera.
But those were the days when she was most alive, the best time of her young life before a deadly pandemic had come knocking on her front door. No, no just hers, but also to those she loved. By then, her mother had already been diagnosed with cancer, which had left her susceptible to the greater infection. Those last days of Madelyn Fletcher went unaccompanied by little Bobbie, all the while Bobbie was elsewhere and could not leave with the contract dangling overhead legally. But she did try, and she had breached the terms of it, as small as the fine print really was, and had been thrown under the bus and let go that way.
Out of time and out of money while the pandemic went on, and for awhile, alone. But Bobbie Fletcher would soon become a cars guide to those who would pay for a teacher. And where she made friends, special connections were made.
Bobbie had entered into an apartment parking lot and hid in the back, killing her engine and waited for a phone call. She never bothered to check her tank just yet, but had felt she was at a quarter full, especially since she had pulled a full hundred miles per hour, unlike the only patrol car that tailed her since she passed the barren McDonald's.
Street racing was illegal and not a sport she'd tolerate. Not a topic she ever got to talk about, however, and that was sorely to avoid giving the daredevils that credibility. The recklessness, the endangerment they presented to the public, why, your Bobbie Fletcher could preach about its unethical nature but... There had always been something that never made her go all the way to that point, but she just hadn't realized it back then. She had come to know it and accept it for that very thing had applied to her in the end and had made her no different than the speed demons; she was a speed demon herself and had a natural high off of going at high speeds, a daring junkie living away dangerously in those fast lanes.
She leaned her seat back and waited for that call. Surely there would be a race tonight, and not anywhere close to the city where those cops, those donut holes, were constantly patrolling. And a ha to them, their laws may have diminished the amount of car shows hosted in parking lots and in the streets, but the idea of street racing itself had never gone away. See, how she perceived it was, there had been laws in most places already, but the law enforcement's money-costing attempts to regulate these laws further only dispersed the partakers and had them spread to other neighboring cities, thus making these street racers basically everyone's problem. And Bobbie Fletcher herself drifted corners and did donuts, otherwise she had a rear-wheel drive car for nothing. She was known as the Pink Diamond online, had too many Twitter, Instagram and TikTok posts about her, usually as spotting posts as if she was a famous celebrity.
That Pink Diamond, sighted just south of the city, but patrols were scarce due to some unforeseen budget cuts so she knew they posed no true threat nowadays. Now, if they managed to pull her over and discover who she was, that'd blow America away, as short as it would be. Would never happen, that's the brazen, arrogant thought she believed in. She was speed defined, running into the darkness and away at the same time.
Her phone had rung, the ringtone being that of an engine revving out at full throttle. She let it sound long enough to savor the sweet melody of the horsepower at play before blindly answering the phone, to which she had an idea on who was calling. "You got something for me, boss?"
"Crew's assembling a sprint race, and it's not one of 'em if the blessed Pink Diamond don't show up, ya dig?"
"They love themselves a legend. Who are my rivals this time?"
"Most of them from last race, but we've got a non-local rider, the Black Knight. I'm sure you've heard of him."
"That's... That can't be right..." Bonnie lunged back upright. "That's the mysterious driver in a gray Lambo Huracan. He-?"
"Do I detect nervousness in your voice, Diamond?"
"I don't race quality supers, that's one of my few rules and you know that. Anyways, what's got the Black Knight interested in a sprint all of a sudden? Guy's from the east, why'd he come all this way for a bunch of nobodies?"
"I wouldn't say a bunch of nobodies will only be showing up, but isn't it obvious?"
She paused, then her eyes widened with disbelief. "Aw, there's no way-"
"Oh, but there is!" The caller on the other end had a proud, yet mocking laugh. "The Black Knight seems to be interested in you, I take it you'll show up."
"I guess I don't have a choice," Bobbie laughed back. "Send me the location. And thanks."
The Summit Shopping Mall
Bobbie pulled into the massive parking lot where she met her own people; various street racers and enthusiasts ready to start the social media process. She saw the Supras, Miatas, some very few Mustangs; red halos, green halos, rainbow flash lighting; a Chevy was already performing a burnout, with the passenger dangling his head out the window and declaring sheer joy though his screams for the cameras focused on him and the truck. Fireworks had gone off, but it was only a matter of time before the certified donut-holes came in to break it up. Bobbie found it annoying that the bastards made this much noise, but if it meant having a distraction at hand-
Six cars not aligned on the parking spaces were in three pairs of two in a line. These cars, familiar to her, were composed of a red 1995 Toyota MR2, a zebra-striped 1999 Mitsubishi 3000GT, a gray 2003 Nissan 350Z of limo-tinted windows, a blue 2003 BMW E46, a black 2009 Honda S2000, and a white 1995 Mazda Miata. Her spot was preset in the back on the left, so she casually drove around the back and readied herself, eagerly expecting the Black Knight to pull up right beside her. All cars ahead of her had begun revving up the moment the race announcer stepped up to begin it. "Y'all know the drill! One firm destination, from this very point, you'll enter onto Mount Rose Highway and race it all the way to the Tannenbaum Center! There will be no roadblocks to stop the traffic, meaning you will hold yourself accountable for the brush-offs and paint scrapes, this is a free-for-all! Oh, and there is a very special surprise at the halfway point, just to make the shit fun!"
What are they planning? Bobbie checked the side and rearview mirrors hoping to see two headlights appear, but it seemed that the Black Knight wasn't around. Not him or anything that resembled the Lamborghini Huracan as seen in shaky-cam clips. "Fucking asshole, I knew I shouldn't have listened to him!" She followed the others and pressed on the gas to revv up. "Black Knight popping up here, yeah right."
"On your marks!" The announcer, a hoodrat type, had plucked his arms high in the air. "Read-eeeeeeeee!"
Bobbie slapped her hand over the clutch. "Come on, come on..."
"Seeeeeeet!"
She was far behind, at a disadvantage for sure if she wasn't an expert at this game. For sure she was last to not intimidate or cause a wave of forfeit- things like this worked best when it was interestingly fun. At the turns of the road is where she could overpass and win fairly easily. And that much was more ceetain than not.
"GOOOOO!" And the race was off, all runners pressing hard on the pedals, delivering a wave of excitement on both sides of the line-up. The cheers and roars suppressed by the parade of engines, and the cars they powered stormed into the highway in the correct lanes, the racers moved in an uncoordinated manner, trying to get into the first position. The 350Z pushed to first place, but the MR2 had tried to cheat with a side-rear hit and ultimately failed by missing the rear and swerved to the side, struck directly by the S2000, quickly taking them out of the race. The rest of the racers turned sharply at either left or right, and Bobbie had passed the E46, coming right into fourth place.
She throttled her Skyline more without using up the nitro feature, coming right to the Miata's side when, in the corner of the front mirror, the flashing blue and red lights of incoming cops alerted the racers. "Game on, boys," she softly uttered, feeling the high-octane adrenaline fall over her.
The Miata tried to maintain its place at third, but the Skyline kept up to match its speed, and the E46 lagged behind with the police getting closer. The fifth placer ran through the space in between both cars, utilizing their own nitro to plow through them. Bobbie, already familiar with the driver behind the Miata, released her foot off the gas and found herself at last place- and then the Miata made a sharp left turn, scraping paint with the E46, sacrificing the sideview mirror for it. This was the window Bobbie needed, her Skyline flaring past the two vehicles with their speed decreasing out of caution. "Haha, goodnight, boys," her sassy side smirked arrogantly.
And the race took her past a bridge that held another highway, further away from the city. Less streetlights around now, the darkness dimming out all lighting except for those on the cars. The distance between her and the two racers behind her had turned to her favor, and would prove even more of a favor when they'd hit through a snake way- assuming they wouldn't break under the heat's pressure.
At last, Bobbie had entered the mountainside, halfway done with the race. Third place, now catching up to the 350Z and the clean runner the 3000GT had proven to be. Again. She gave him credit time and time again, believed him to have quite the skill to throw in with the big boys when the street racing world could only go far with reputation and prize cash. And right at the first turn, the three runners geared down on the clutch rapidly and drifted alongside the road, steering wheels shifting left and right on a timed, abrasive manner.
Bobbie smiled with the drift train having ended, a moment where the racers were perfectly synchronized with each other, a beautiful rubber-burning moment that needed no camera whatsoever to disturb its wholly sanctity. From there, it repeated at every turn, and they were closer to their destination. The surprise the announcer had promised was nothing more than a simple lie, a psychological ruse to rattle their nerves and watch their front and back. No roadblocks. No stragglers around, and no traffic. Just some bullshit.
And then that claim of bullshit had backpedaled with a sudden pair of xenon lights beaming from Bobbie's rear. They were bright, and not at full beam mode, shining brightly upon all her mirrors. And when the time had come to overtake her, the mysterious vehicle had appeared to be the very same whip be the underground-famous Black Knight, its engine a stealthy silent block of carbon and metal, labeled wheels, and its speed proved to be from a higher degree of horsepower under the hood; the way it moved fascinated Bobbie, but also discouraged her. The Black Knight had entered no less than thirty seconds at last place, then took all racers by storm with little effort.
"Holy shit!" Bobbie lost the Black Knight shortly, perplexed as she felt she'd be. The race wasn't in her favor anymore, hadn't been since the start, a rigged race planned for the sake of the spectators, and who could really say otherwise in the end? Bobbie took second- actually third place- passing the 350Z, only due to the racer behind the wheel having lost their confidence. They'd be last, and Bobbie, no longer feeling high and mighty up to here, would arrive to the finish line and leave in unjust discontent.
She pulled into the Tannenbaum Center lot, following the 3000GT and rolled right up to the Black Knight that had already parked and killed the engine. Awaiting the racers apart from the supercar were more spectators either in custom cars all around, or walking right up and around the sprinters recording or livestreaming. Bobbie yawned, dead tired at this point in the night. A good night's rest would definitely put her mind at ease after this hearty loss, but... She rolled her window down and stared at the Huracan, but failed to look inside the cab with those max-tinted windows. The mystery of the Black Knight and where he, or she, had come from was just feet away. Bobbie parked, switched the engine off and exited her Skyline, and through the overlapping cheers of the car fanatics that swarmed her and the Black Knight, she made a confidently firm walk towards them, drawn in by the aroma of her curiosity.
The tinted window rolled down and tucked itself into the driver's door; the middle-aged pro didn't smile yet but had been excited to have the honor of having this enigmatic driver, motorcycle helmet shielding their identity, still on. It didn't seem like they would unmask themselves for Bobbie or the lively crowd audience here, but it was certainly something for her to be thinking about the next time she'd catch some sleep. "I've been told you would be coming, but to keep you as a surprise to the others-?"
"I had to be sure about you," the voice behind the helmet replied so collectively calm, and yet there was a suave feel to it, as if he knew a great deal of sweet-talking. "Most of the individuals who know I'm popping up tend to... Get cold feet. But not you, miss."
"Oh, so you expected me to just..." Bobbie broke, grinned with an embarrassed laugh and chucked her head down halfway, hiding from the Black Knight like a shy girl. "Oh my God, you wanted to see if I'd back out or not, right? What say I did?"
"Then I guess it'd have been a shame of a drive. I made some things happen here tonight but I wanted to see the one and only Bobbie Fletcher."
"You've got me," Bobbie nodded back, laughing again. "Now, uh, if you could tell me what a hotshot like yourself wants so ever to do with a washed up icon like myself. As you can see..." Bobbie directed the Black Knight to her Skyline. "I fell from their good graces long ago..."
"But you still want to race your life away?"
"Coming from you!" She tapped on his hood. "Been my passion as long as I can remember. Why, is it not yours? Cause I would say that's pure bullcrap if you say so."
The helmet bobbed left and right. "Racing? Well, yes and no, it is complex but more than I make it sound. When I'm not behind the wheel, I'm behind screens. Phones, pads, computers and laptops, merely observing what no one really notices."
"What, is that fancy talk for tech nerd?" Bobbie squinted among a series of camera flashes. "Or is there a punchline you're trying to deliver? I've heard better, you know."
"How's this for a punchline?" He got right to the point. "I need an expert driver with necessary skills able to effectively outrun any vehicle. Your name came up on that list, and you don't even have to worry about a shortage of parts or having the incompatible vehicle, I can provide."
Bobbie opened her mouth, but had been left nothing but petrified, in neither good nor bad, to say anything.
"Yes, this is a job, or maybe a series of jobs I'd like to hire you for."
"W-wait, but you- You're the social media famous Black Knight! Why do you-?" But she never got her answers, for the driver had restarted the ignition, set to drive and veered out of the place within ten seconds. Is he testing me again?
She wasn't stuck in her head for long, thanks to the collecting crowd cheering and clapping for her, but she didn't stay long to accept some credible, proof-admissable selfies with her fans; she sought to chase after the Black Knight and unearth the offer he vaguely dropped on her. This, an opportunity she didn't expect, which put her in the midst of the lone driver. It could have been something, or perhaps nothing in the end, and it was not to be known of Bobbie followed the bait. The Pink Diamond and the Black Knight, an oddly practical duo with many an adventure from here on out. Oh, a woman could definitely dream, and what dream that road led her as she pulled out-
Lost him when she turned into the single lane, wondered to give chase. She should have known it by then, but all the adrenaline amped her brain up, made her act without thinking, she wished she had the horsepower to match that sweet Lambo.
Lost him-
She brain farted, a terrible oopsie that made her dance yet again with some incoming cops back into the city. And just like before, numerous times as it was, the infamous Pink Diamond performed a clean roundhouse drift and made off the opposite way. And that was how this night of hers began to end, her final thoughts being how good the man was with the few that were already there.
And she had indeed come to an agreement by the time she had lost the cops. It was a confirming answer, and the Black Knight would soon be coming to collect the answer. Whatever the future held...
It's time for me to explore new pastures... It's already been.
AN: This entire chapter, as short as it was, had been envisioned differently, centered on Lana going to a live race and meeting Bobbie Fletcher, much to the tool-loving tomboy's development. I can't say I've robbed the readers by changing it up, I can still see myself writing the original thing down the line, no one really knows, right?
Next, another step towards the ill-fated Decimation.
And the turning of a protagonist.