Mike Zephyr: Split/Second

Chapter 4 - Heating Up

      The next race was only about two weeks after the first rookie challenge. I often wondered to myself why I hadn't seen the advertised dangers during that race, and why it seemed to be too simple for the show's standards. It just seemed far too good and simple to be true. But then again... Could I really complain? After all, I wasn't dead from a nasty explosion — well, not yet, at least. But something seemed off about this next race.

The track was the exact same one I had raced on last. I was given an earpiece to wear as well as an update for my hacker tool on my phone... But why on earth would I need these? I didn't understand. Was the earpiece for communication, like some sort of rally race? Was the hacking features for hidden shortcuts for the track? The more I thought of it, the less I was able to find any sort of answers to put my mind to rest.

There were a lot more attractive racers out this time. Some were even celebrities of their own, constantly getting invaded by paparazzi. Lots of pretty furry boys and girls were there to admire, but none that I was worthy of having, as they were all far out of my league. Knowing the amount of abuse and heartbreaks I had to go through, it was probably best to leave it that way. People cannot be trusted. You give someone your heart or trust, they take it, throw it into a blender and blend it all up before they consume it and shit it right back out in front of you; all with a nasty big grin on their face. So I choose not to trust or love anybody. The problem is, the more you look around and see all of these happy couples, the more you are reminded how unmatchable you are for true unconditional love. It makes you want to scream, it makes you want to ball your fingers into fists and punch a tree until your bones break or your entire furred hands fall off. It makes you want to take the nearest blade and stick it into your chest, piercing your already broken heart, just to end the pain. It makes you question why you even bother trying to survive like you already do. But that is a price I will pay to avoid any more betrayal in my life. I have got nothing more to lose than simply my thrill of racing itself and my money.

Once I drive up to the starting grid line with the other rookie racers in my Mustang Boss, I sigh inside my racing helmet as I set my phone up on the phone holster next to my steering wheel so that I could have easy access to it. I set my left black, studded, leather fingerless-gloved paw on the steering wheel with my right paw holding the gearshift stick. My nitrous was fully charged as well, and I had installed a few minor upgrades to my vehicle to keep it in the best shape I possibly can. The engine now had an upgraded supercharger that stuck through the hood of the car, with a bug-catcher intake on top to aid cooling the v8 engine under the hood. My tires had been switched to race tires, and I also installed a bigger nitrous bottle for longer — and more powerful — boost times.

      The same cheetah from last round walked past everyone's car again, being our flag-bearer. She wore the equivalent of the same outfit, just with small changes that really aren't too important to note of. As I glance around me at the other racers and their own vehicles, I take note of my current surroundings left on the track while I grip onto the wheel and wait for the race to begin. The flag-barer lifts her gun into the air without saying a single word, a smirk formed on her face as we watch her in fierce silence.

"POW!"
And just like that, we were off, blasting past her and onto the racetrack through the large construction site, weaving through pipe tunnels and underneath arches while we speed on through. It was then that I began to hear someone through my earpiece, seeming to be the same person that gifted me the Mustang in the first place.

"Right, kid, this is your race spotter speaking. Do not be fooled by your current surroundings on the track. It is anything but safe."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, confused. "Last time we raced here, the most dangerous thing that could happen was simply a wreck from reckless driving."