Triple Digits

Corey Strickland

"Racers of Mid-City, are you READY?!" The announcer screamed out over the speakers, Corey taking a seat on the edge of a grassy knoll where the October races were being held, a snackbar in one hand, a speedometre in the other.
The afternoon sun beamed lazily down across the fields, making the paint on the racers cars shine.
Triple Digit's lime green, S-Class Empyrean was front and centre of the line-up, people cheering out for the famous street-racer.
It had taken Claire up a month to get back behind the wheel of a car. Her love of racing had been dampened slightly by nightmares and flashbacks. She constantly checked that her car doors were unlocked, afraid of being sealed in.
Corey had discovered that the hard way only three weeks after she'd been released from the hospital, and he'd driven her to a doctor's appointment. He'd locked his car doors without thinking, and she'd gone ballistic. Her screams of genuine fear as she had wrenched at the car door and begged to be released still played over in the back of his mind sometimes. After pulling over to the side of the road and calming her down enough that she'd been willing to get back in the car, fifteen minutes late to her appointment.
Corey had cried in the parking lot before joining her to hear the latest updates on how she was healing. By now, her cracked rib only ached occasionally, and the cast on her hand had been removed. She still refused any kind of therapy, or to mention what happened aside from the rare times when, late at night, she would crawl into bed with him in the guest room, and cry. Sometimes she spoke. Most times she just sobbed.
Eclipse may be behind bars, but he tormented Claire silently through memories.
They'd renovated her Mid-City apartment as a result, and Dunfield had donated security cameras that allowed Corey to wirelessly check in on Claire when she was at home alone, giving both of them peace of mind. The new doors to the house were wooden, but reinforced with metal bars on the inside of their shell. Claire had never told him what had happened during her fight with Eclipse in the house, but she paled whenever she looked at the balcony.
Helix and Maddy visited every weekend with food, and to help keep Claire company whenever Corey was given a graveyard shift monitoring the streets of Mid-City. Averie showed up once a month bringing gifts from Redwood. Nobody mentioned Eclipse. Claire had been required to go to court to give her testimony, although Dunfield had ordered for Triple Digit's testimony to be sealed after the court case, preventing anyone from discovering her identity. His Commissioner, so far, had kept Claire's secret identity as just that- a secret. He'd played off Claire's return by pretending she had been discovered in the warehouse, kept alongside Triple Digits.
"Today, we have some new faces, so let's get the introductions over with!" The announcer's loud voice shook Corey from his thoughts, and he waved at Claire. She winked back, the lime-green contacts sparkling in the sun.
Next to Triple Digits on the starting line were the newest, each in their own vehicles. Reaching down, Corey glanced at the pamphlet he'd been given, reading along with the introductions that were made.
Competitions had been held to determine who would fill Velocity, Quickshift's and Casanova's spots, and join Bullet and Triple Digits at the top. It had taken the racers of Mid-City five months to return to the sport they loved so much, and it was now mandatory to have their engines checked before each and every race. Maddison was one of the mechanics who inspected them all.
BurnOut was one of the new Top Five, dragged up from one of the minor groups of racers. He drove an A-Class Harmony- not the best car, Claire had informed Corey earlier, but better than nothing. He was only fifteen, something that made Corey want to shake his head. Teenagers risking their lives was a story that never changed.
Then there was seventeen-year-old Outlaw, in an X-Class Momentum. He was dressed as a cowboy, his face hidden by a too-big cowboy hat and a leather mask. He liked to wink at Claire whenever they locked eyes.
Most of these kids trained with her down at the racing course, where Claire mentored once a week, every Sunday.
Leadfoot, the newest racer to join the Top Five, was a sixteen-year-old girl in, to his surprise, an S-Class Evolution.
Rising to his feet, since introductions were still being made, he rapped his knuckles on Triple Digit's window. She rolled it down, Claire flashing him a dazzling, mischievious smile and singing innocently, "Yes, Officer?"
"You'll have trouble from that one," he said with a grin of his own, nodding toward Leadfoot, who was running over the steps to prepare herself.
"Oh, I count on it," she purred, waving toward Leadfoot, who smiled back. There was no hostility between the new racers yet, thank the Gods. Corey didn't think he could handle another murderer in Mid-City.
He pat the top of Claire's car, backing away to let the race begin, and she winked at him.
"One!" The announcer shouted. The crowd shouted with him. Corey took a seat back on the blanket, watching Claire flash her headlights twice. The other racers did the same.
"Two!"
They revved their engines.
"THREE!"
The cars took off, sending dirt and pieces of grass flying into the air, and Corey watched as Leadfoot and Triple Digits went head-to-head, the both of them crossing the finish line with mere centimetres of difference. The announcer began studying photos taken to determine the winner.
After debating it with colleagues, he exclaimed, "And we have a winner! Triple Digits!"
The crowd cheered, surrounding Claire excitedly. Leadfoot smiled along with them, clapping and laughing.
All was right in the world.
And maybe street-racing wasn't so bad after all...