Greed Of The Mountains

Chapter 1 - The Racers

Now, what car should I pick? That's the most daunting task of any adventure, I have a selection of supercars, classics, and built race cars so wide and so varied that I can't always remember what I have. For some reason, my Datsun Fairlady Z was pulling me in today, it has an allure that is unmatched by any other car. It was one of my first project cars, and it definitely lacks power and modernity compared to a lot of what I have.

This Datsun I started to build when I was 17, way before I started Comor Engineering, so I didn't exactly have money at the time. I saved up all my money for years to buy that thing, the build ended up costing me the same as my college tuition. It was originally a 240Z in a beat up old yellow paint job, but I swapped the engine out for an L28E engine that I rebuilt end to end and added some parts to, including 2 big turbos making 28 pounds of boost. It makes above 600 horsepower now, and is the most powerful L28 I've personally ever seen. I painted it pearl white and did an ensemble of the usual mods: brakes, suspension, wheels, and overfenders. This thing is beautiful.

Now onto my errands, and by that I mean getting this car ready to actually race in a day. I drove spiritedly to my buddies' workshop, Ludlow Auto Tuning. As I walked in, another guy blocked my way.

"Oh hi, TJ," I said as I recognized him.

TJ is a fellow street racer, he doesn't have as much money to throw around on cars as I do, but he does a devilish job of tuning up what he does have and he throws whatever he's got into every race. He's a nice kid, and he's always been that way. He loves his car so much that he lives in a garage and spends every night sleeping next to whatever his current project is.

"Are you in on the race tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I figured you were... Are you going to be driving that thing?" he asked, pointing at the Z.

"That thing can roll all over whatever little toy you have," I said.

TJ continued on his way after I said that without replying, I guess I struck a nerve. I walked up to the front desk, and noone was there, so I shouted, "Jay! Are you here?"

Jay, the six foot six beast of a man, lumbered right up to me and he asked, "What do you need?"

"Well, I want to take this old thing out to a race tonight, do you think you can make it ready by midnight?"

"What do you mean ready?" he asked.

"Well, I'm already making 600 horsepower, so I'm thinking of putting some nitrous in the back and giving it a longer gear ratio," I replied.

Jay grunted and said, "That engine can hardly take as much power as you put into it, I don't think NOS is a good idea."

"Listen," I said, "this race is a big one. Thirty-grand buy-in, four racers. That means I'll be in for a hundred and twenty... I'm not risking this."

"Okay fine, pull it into the first garage. I guess I've got what you need," Jay said reluctantly.

I started up the car and pulled it into the garage. After I rolled up to the lift, I decided to just stop and take in this car. I don't often take time to appreciate the gurgle of the engine, the smell of gasoline, or the feeling of sitting behind this much horsepower. I guess I've driven fast cars for so long that I forget to stop and smell the roses.

"Aright, get out of the car so I can lift it up," Jay said, "I really don't want to do this. I think you're going to blow your engine and I don't want to be responsible for that. So drive this at your own risk, and use the boost as little as possible," Jay said.

"Seriously man, I know how to handle this. Thank you so much for working on such short notice," I said, "I'm going to take one of your cars home, call me when the car is ready."

Sometimes I miss having a car as simple as the one Jay lends out to me while my car is in the shop. It almost feels relaxing to not have to put up with a car like mine, and sometimes I don't want to get looked at. This car is so normal that I can't even be bothered to look at the badge and figure out what it is I'm driving.

Once I got home I realized I had hours to wait until the race. So I pulled out my phone and decided to throw a house party just for the heck of it. People know me, and people love to be around a billionaire's house. Naturally, I could get plenty of guests. I made sure that I had stocked the fridge and had warmed up the pool for a long day of partying.

Fifteen minutes later, people start showing up in spades. Some I recognized, most of them I didn't. For the first few hours I could keep up with every one coming in and greet all of my guests, but by nightfall, there were just too many people coming in. I don't throw parties for myself, I just love to give other people an opportunity to do what they love. I started pushing through the crowds to the pool. There's one person I knew would be here that I never saw come in.

I get caught off by someone tapping me on the shoulder twice.

"Hey David, did you forget to say hi to me!" she shouts over the crowd.

I turn around and see Brinley, exactly who I was looking for. Brinley is a gorgeous person. Her reddish-brown hair falls perfectly on her shoulders. Her pink lipstick shines in comparison to her pale white skin, as her green eyes are covered by her rose-tinted glasses. She could easily be lost in the crowd right next to me with her size. Today she is wearing a green suede jacket and torn jeans.

"Hey, I was just looking for you. I guess I never saw you come in," I said.

"Ah don't worry about it, you don't have to flatter me," she said as she winked, "Oh, and I finally got my new car built, you'll see me on the canyons tonight."

"Maybe in my rearview mirror," I teased.

"Wow, that's rude, don'tcha think a turbo BRZ with like a billion lbs of downforce is a good car for the canyons?"

"Downforce will help you in all the high speed corners, and that's the most important part for the canyons," I said, "that's what a lot of people tuning their car overlook."

"Oh quit your yapping, I know these roads just as well as you," she said.

Just then, some partygoers pushed their way between us carrying their dazed friend, and Brinley disappeared right into the crowd.

"See you on the canyons!" I shouted into the crowd, with no reply.

I decided to go see what was up with that dazed guy and then join into the party. I followed the direction that he was being carried and found them outside sitting by my infinity light fountain. Looks like he either passed out from too many drinks or drugs. I asked the two guys sitting to his sides what happened.

"Well, I wouldn't tell you this if you weren't a friend, but he brought in drugs that he bought down by the hoods. Looks like it was some bad stuff," one of his friends said anxiously.

"What did the guy look like?" I asked, I think I know this guy.

"Well, he was like a six-three black dude with lots of muscle and a brand new silver Mustang GT. He seemed really nice and put-together for a drug dealer."

"Thanks, that's plenty," I shouted over them as I walked back to the party. Somehow exactly who I expected it to be, a guy named Marc. That Marc has a good head on his shoulders, I've known him since my high school days. He's just a little too obsessed with getting rich, but he doesn't know how to do it. He thinks that selling drugs to party-goers and racing on the streets can get you to where I am. I'd put good money to say that he is jealous of me and my lifestyle.

I got so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn't realize that I was right in the middle of the dance floor. Since I was already there, I decided to just get right into the middle of it. After what felt like forever of dancing, I got a phone call, "Your car's ready, and I think you'll like what I did to it."