Stage 1 Prelude: The Religion of Street Racing

=Year 2004=

[=Bayview, City Center | 1:27am=]

Every night, deep in the concrete jungle of the underground, asphalt called to be assaulted by tires. Midnight air shouted to be polluted by nitrous fumes. And street racers fulfilled the streets' desires with their personas of speeding steel. It was a religion that every street racer devoted themself to, passed onto only the most devout disciples so that their practices could be etched into every nook and cranny of the road. And two women got ready to begin their ritual as they pulled their cars up to the start line.

Crackling timbre from modded out engines echoed under the umbrella of the Bayview highway, shielding the crowd of eager spectators from misty drizzle. A green 350Z and a periwinkle Civic Si, belonging to Rachel and Samantha respectively, was the center of attraction. Playing third and forth fiddle was their opponent's cars - an orange R34 with a samurai and rising sun livery, paired with a turquoise Supra that sported flames.

Most of the attention went to Rachel, who was regarded as the queen of street racing in Bayview, which itself boasted the largest import tuner scene on Earth. You could say that Rachel was inherently the queen of street racing throughout the world. And each night that she raced was always a treat, made even more entertaining by Samantha, her ride or die/best friend, and accessory to Rachel's five-star show.

It was comical the amount of money that would be gambled to predict which night would finally sever Rachel's win streak. That moment never came, and as fans crowded around the four cars in the middle of the street, everyone wondered whether tonight would be that mythical night.

Lounging in her driver seat, Rachel confidently spoke into the speaker of her walkie, not a blip of hesitation in her voice. "Whaddya say, Sam? Crowd seems a bit quiet tonight. Ready to wake em' up?"

A staticy chuckle crackled out in response. "I'm feelin' it. Let's send everyone home with a show they'll never forget." *

=Two Minutes in to the Race=

Winning was the easy part. It always was. So it was no surprise that by the second lap, Samantha and Rachel already put a substantial gap between their opponents.

The hard part? That was the issue of finding a way to finish off with a bang!

Samantha thumbed over the button on her walkie and shouted into the receiver, loud enough to compensate for her high-revving VTEC engine that rattled through the cabin. "Woo! Those slow pokes feel like quittin' yet? How 'bout we wrap this up extra special for 'em?"

"We got this race locked, Sam, no need for an encore."

"Aww c'mooon, you're no fun! If I see a rad photo op, y'know I'm gonna go for it. Hope the crowd catches my good side!"

"...Sam…" Rachel's big sis energy was bursting through the portable radio.

"No promises!" Came Samantha's playful response. And when she spotted an upcoming gap in a busy intersection, she knew she found the encore she was looking for. Everybody seemed to love it when their favorite drivers got as close to danger as possible. "Perfect! Watch me thread this needle!" Dropping the walkie, both hands found themselves on the steering wheel. Samantha sucked herself as far as she could go in her seat, and stomped on the pedal. A busy intersection meant nothing if she rocketed through fast enough. This wasn't new to her.

As for Rachel, however, she couldn't help but let her breathing stop for a second or two whenever Samantha got the urge to play stuntwoman in the middle of a race. Even if it was for a cool photo that no one else would have the guts to shoot for.

"Ahp, ahp! Sam! That intersection's a little tight, huh? Ease up a bit. Just in case!"

Rule number one? Never tell Samantha to slow down. Rachel should've known better than that, and it made her roll her eyes when she noticed the Civic wasn't giving heed to her advice.

Samantha thumbed the NOS button under her radio, only for the exact opposite of what she wanted to happen...

...A loss of speed.

Her speedometer started dropping by the numbers, yet with the car coasting dangerously close to the mouth of the intersection.

She pressed the button again. Three times now. A fourth for safe measure.

Nothing.

The fifth was when her breath caught in her throat. "Oh, shit!"

Again and again, Samantha stomped on uncooperative brakes. The electronics in her car glitched on and off like lights from the rave from where the race began.

"Sam, either speed up or slow down! What are you doing?!" When Rachel's plea went unanswered, she panicked even more, amplified twofold now that Samantha was just a block away from the crosslight. "Samantha what's wrong?!"

There was no time to answer.

She was too busy fumbling to throw on her seat belt on for the inevitable crash.

Now in the eye of the crowded intersection, her heartbeat was louder in her ears than the blaring horns. Blinding lights splashed her from both sides, forcing her to shield her eyes.

That was until her eyes snapped back open when she felt a sharp jolt on her rear fender.

An explosion of shattering glass and crunching metal was the last thing she heard before all went to black. *

Rachel flung her car to a stop in the middle of the intersection. Not a care in the world was given to the backed up traffic that was honking at the obstacle she made with her Nissan. Samantha was her number one priority, and Rachel committed herself to that priority, running as fast as she could in her heels while clumsily dodging traffic on the oncoming side; that's where the wrecked Honda sat in smoke.

Through the cracked windows, Rachel could see her worst fear - Samantha lying unconscious, her head limp against the B-pillar of the car. The dent in the driver door was so deep, it resembled an acute angle, and it was a miracle that the door didn't impale the woman inside.

"Sam!"

Rachel screamed for her best friend as she yanked on the door that wouldn't budge for anything. When the door handle wouldn't work, Rachel trailed her fingers up to the outer lip of the door, trying to pry it apart with sheer force as she buried her high heel into its side for leverage.

"Samantha!"

By now, more and more people were stepping out of their cars, rushing over to assist Rachel. It all became white noise - tunnel vision from the anxiety ravaging her mind. Samantha had to be okay.

She just had to be. X

=Three Weeks Later=

[=Olympic City, Atlantica Hospital | 12:19pm=]

The hypnotic white of the hospital halls, along with the combined stench of food and antibacterials brought a throb to Rachel's temple. Damn. That must've been the ninth migraine in the week already. And it was only Tuesday... How fun.

Rachel just hated the fact that she had to come here in the first place. Hated the fact that her best friend was holed up here with nothing to do. No wheels to burn. No adrenaline to dose. Just slow and stagnant hospital for "fun."

Finally, after she'd been given permission by the staff for the morning, Rachel was able to see Samantha. With a gentle knock on the door, she entered the room once again, just like the many times she had before in the past few days. But every day felt different for whatever reason.

A set of rolling eyes greeted Rachel. It was from Samantha, noticing her bestie hiding her smile behind the lilies in her hand as she approached. Rachel couldn't help it. It wasn't her fault that the white and pink from the lilies reminder her of the exact shade of paint used on Samantha's Civic!

"Raaachel! Giiirl! You're gonna drown me in flowers, and all this rehab will be for nothin'."

"It's worth it," Rachel sat herself down on the space next to Samantha's left arm. "How you holdin' up?"

"Totally copacetic."

If it was anybody else besides Rachel, they wouldn't be able to see the sarcasm that masked Samantha's words. Almost like she was just lying to get the daily conversation of "are you alright" up and over with. So Rachel complied and got straight to the point.

"So what's the word?"

One chewed up bottom lip later, and Samantha was already suppressing tears. She swore she would keep those damn tears in their place. Idle fingers fiddled with the hospital blanket covering her legs as she looked anywhere and everywhere that wasn't Rachel's eyes.

"Got the verdict today...", a small but defeated smirk fell on her lips despite a tear trailing down her cheek. "Doc says I'm benched. For good."

A crinkly crash sound erupted in the room. The flowers had dropped from Rachel's hand...

"No." Rachel shook her head confidently. Like she was the doctor herself. "No," she repeated again, stern but in denial. "That's not it. There has to be somethin' else..."

Samantha looked away, wiping that pesky tear out of her eye with her pinkie. "'Said they did all they could do, Rach. It is what it is."

"How can you say that? You're so young, you have so much life left to live. You have a heart bigger than anybody, let's use it to fight this!" Rachel shuffled closer to Samantha, desperation taking over her body. Her high heel scraped over the spilled soil from the discarded lilies. Rachel closed her eyes and took a second to compose herself. "Look..., Samantha, we can do this. Don't ever let anybody tell you that you won't walk again. We just need time, money, and better doctors. As many doctors as we need! I don't care if I have to-"

"-Look, you think I haven't been thinkin' about that this whole time?! This ain't a magic show, Rachel, we can't just pull a miracle out of nothin'."

"..."

Their eyes met, and most of what needed to be said, was done so. Just not with words. All the disappointment. Regret. The things they "would've" done/changed that night if they knew what was coming. Ugh. It was hard.

Now came Samantha's turn to swear under her breath.

"Rachel… it is what it is." X

[=Bayview, Rachel's Garage | 9:44pm=]

The verdict wasn't good enough. And Rachel never was one to brake for the impossible. She just put her foot down on the gas to speed past impossible. It's how she made her reputation. Made herself into the successful twenty-seven year old woman she was. So she'd be damned before she let what happened to Samantha just be "what it was."

That was not good enough for Rachel. And damn sure not good enough for her sister in arms. Sam deserved better than that.

So as soon as Samantha's Civic was able to be confiscated, she had it sent to Tommy, her so-called "wizard under the hood." And he'd need to work his magic in order to piece together any clues or leads that would give Rachel some sort of reprieve - some sort of peace of mind to what could've caused Samantha's Civic to act up. Her heart throbbed through her throat as Tommy raised the car on the lift. It was the first time she'd seen the vehicle since the accident. And the scratches and dents that were still in the panels didn't help the images from seeping back into her head whatsoever.

Fortunately, Tommy had, for sure, worked his magic. After only a few minutes of waving one of his many wands, his flashlight, he made a curious whistle sound with his mouth. "Bingo. Found somethin' you're gonna wanna see." He pointed to a peculiar object peeking out from underneath the engine bay. "See this? It's a homemade killswitch. Kinda amateur stuff, if I'm bein' real here. This tampers with the ECU. Totally toasts the car and there's not a thing you can do when it happens. Most of these are remotely wired, meaning the culprit coulda been the dudes you were racing against."

Rachel shook her head with her arms crossed. "Nah. Wasn't them. We were dusting them. A remote wouldn't have been able to reach Sam's car. I don't think…" She paused to raise an eyebrow in deep thought. Engines were her specialty. Homemade anarchist devices? Not so much.

Though, Tommy reassured her, "No, you're on the right track. The signals these things boost aren't all that strong. 'Means it must've been some creep on a side street waiting for Samantha to pass by. Probably someone in the crowd."

"Damn it." Rachel took the killswitch in her hand after Tommy unhooked it. She couldn't help but imagine some greedy fool hooking this up to her car in hopes that it would aid him for whatever motive he had.

"My guess? Whoever did this must've had some serious cash on the line for you both to lose."

"If that's the deal, then why didn't they single me and my ride out?" There was a part of Rachel that wanted to emphasize that she wouldn't hesitate a bit to swap places with Samantha if it meant a shot at things turning out for the better.

Stepping out from under the lift, Tommy paused to wipe his hands on a towel. "Beats me. We'd have to ask whoever cooked up the plan. But Rachel… I hate to tell you this, but I've been seeing these cheats more often lately. I'm hopin' this is a coincidence, but I've noticed that a lot of these tryhards that use these things? They tend to be dudes that bet on racers that are under Booke's wing. Y'know? Guys like the Eastsiders? Or even the Wraiths? Maybe one of those guys with Booke or whoever... maybe they made a bet against you and Samantha that he couldn't afford to lose. You want my opinion? That's totally what happened here."

Rachel got tunnel vision once more when Tommy name dropped the most powerful man in Bayview's street racing underworld.

"...Booke..."

Ugh.

That guy.

A celebrity for all the wrong reasons. A greedy asshole that had his fingers marked on every street in Bayview with his ego, so much so that he could compete with Rachel in terms of influence.

And Rachel fought tooth and nail to refrain from saying his name out loud. Inside, she felt he didn't deserve it. That he was just a nuisance. And it was certainly true that he was. But she was upset at herself and blamed herself for the influence he gained as she sat by and watched him grow in the underground world.

A somewhat talented driver that grew up racing in Bayview just like she did, however, on the other side of the metaphorical road, using shady bets, dirty racing, and cutthroat tactics to get what he wanted. Money, fame, and victory - all three of those things made up who he was...

...A man, a nuisance by the name of "Booke Teems."

Through the open skylight in her garage, Rachel looked up into the huddled buildings of Bayview's skyline and determined that she would begin a new mission for the sake of the future of street racing in her home city. And most importantly, for the sake of her and best friend's legacy.

"This will never happen again. To anybody. It's about time I put an end to Booke for good."

Tommy watched Rachel turn around with a determination he'd never seen before in her eyes. "Rachel? You alright? Where are you going?"

"I'm good. Just gonna make a few phone calls..."

"Riders on the Storm" - Snoop Dogg Ft. The Doors (NFSUG2 OST)