Elliot's been pacing back and forth in the Pit like a wound-up toy for a good twenty minutes. A Twix dangled precariously from his lips-a mocking effigy of the cigarette Kenny puffed on with serene nonchalance. Kenny, in his grease-streaked orange jumpsuit, looked more like an inmate than "the second pair of hands to the great and terrible Bruce." Bruce, meanwhile, is elbow-deep in the guts of his baby.

Elliot chomps down on the chocolate-covered cookie stick with way too much force. He can't take it anymore and marches over to Kenny, who's glued to his phone, and snatches the cigarette, earning an indignant "Hey!" from the guy.

"No 'hey,' you little shit. You know I'm trying to quit, and I physically can't watch you puffing away like a damn steam engine!" Elliot chucks the cigarette onto the cracked asphalt through the open garage door, feeling Kenny's precise kick to his ass. Good thing the dude's all sinew and bone, or it would've hurt more than just his ego.

"I know you're freaking out about the upcoming race, but taking it out on innocent bystanders ain't gonna help, you know."

"You're about as innocent as Sasha Grey in her prime."

"You saying I've got a sweet ass and... stamina? Or that my smirk makes you wanna rip my clothes off?"

Elliot groans so hard that Kenny cracks up. Even Bruce rolls out from under his baby - an acid green-yellow Nissan Silvia S15, the only thing in this garage Elliot doesn't want to melt with his glare - and starts laughing.

"Kenny got you good. Don't swim with sharks when you're a tiny guppy." The mechanic uses his fingers to show just how tiny a guppy he thinks Elliot is.

The guy rolls his eyes, fighting the urge to walk over to Bruce's tool wall and start knocking wrenches off one by one like a cat, creating vengeful chaos.

"You guys are a regular comedy duo. Is that why you took him as your protégé, Bruce? I thought Kenny used his puppy dog eyes on you, but turns out you're bound by the unbreakable bond of shitty humor."

"And my easy-going golden retriever personality!" Kenny shouts, lighting up another cigarette, but thank God, he's stepped out of the garage.

Bruce chuckles quietly again and lifts his powerful body off the ground, dusting off his hands. "Alright, alright, enough talking like I'm his fairy godmother." He pulls a beat-up vape from the toolbox on the table and blows a cloud of cherry-scented vapor upward. Then he gives Elliot a sharp look. "You're not gonna screw up this time. You know the 'Milky Way' like the back of your hand."

Elliot chews his lower lip, arms crossed. The Milky Way.

A track considered among the "Void Eaters" to be beginner to intermediate level. This didn't bother Elliot - everyone had to learn sometime, even Victor. The "Way" was still on their turf, which already gave him a solid advantage, and what made this news even sweeter?

It meant the Way was perfect for the Void Eaters' driving style.

The start of the road is so wide it makes first-timers breathe a sigh of relief. Big fucking mistake. It gives you enough room to build up speed, but then? It narrows, so much that cars have to squeeze together like horny college students at their first frat party to get through.

Next up? A slalom section littered with the remains of old construction equipment, wooden pallets, and metal junk. Without slowing down, you've gotta dodge all this crap - here's where your brain needs to work fast and sharp, or else? Bye-bye, space cowboy, better hope you only break your pride and not your neck.

Then comes the "Milk of Hera" section - a turn descending into a small pool of stagnant water from old burst pipes. The catch? The water makes traction as shaky as fuck, and you're forced to play your cards right - slow down and lose position, or try to slide through at full speed.

Then, like a brief respite, there's an open and straight stretch along the shoreline. Time to breathe and recover for the last link in the road chain. Another narrow passage, even tighter than the first, carved out of shipping containers, barely lit. After that? The finish line. Victory. Or claustrophobic nightmares for the rest of your days.

Elliot shrugs. Honestly? This was a great chance after his last defeat on the "Genesis" track. Yeah, he was still pretty green when it came to racing, but that didn't make his previous loss any less of a blow to his self-esteem.

"I know, Bruce. I just want everything to go smoothly this time. Because I know I can win."

The mechanic grins, setting aside his vape and stretching his arms, pressing one to his shoulder. "Relax, El. You're gonna eat 'em alive on the 'Way' and ask for seconds."

---

"Step right up, gentlemen, step right up! Pay no mind to the gloomy brutalism and fucked-up asphalt - it's all part of the Void Eaters' charm!" Theo, grinning from ear to ear in a mocking parody of a carnival barker, greeted spectators and racers, sipping on a Red Bull with cranberry vodka. He was perched on the hood of his snow-white Honda Integra like a smug bastard.

The "Genesis" racers were already here, as usual with all their pomp and glitz - music shook the air so that the bass seemed to become an extension of your heartbeat, neon and holographically shimmering cars - mostly Hondas, because none of them were heathens - screamed louder than the tiny costumes of Sparkles who came with them. One blonde in gold short-shorts clung to her camcorder like she’d just stepped out of a Y2K dream. Apparently, she was "creating a vibe." Yeah, Elliot was willing to bet his right arm she'd prefer it if at least one of the Genesis guys was creating a "vibe" between her legs in the back seat of their rides.

Bruce, who hadn't changed out of his oil-stained clothes, put his hand on Elliot's shoulder and, leaning in, pointed at his baby - fully repaired since the last race. "Well, Elliot, just look at her. A fucking princess. So fine she's making me cream my pants a little, not gonna lie."

Elliot wrinkled his face and reluctantly laughed. "Don't talk about my car like that, fuck, it's gross. I swear to God, I'll check the undercarriage after the race, and if there are any suspicious white stains, we're gonna have a very serious talk."

Bruce laughed, removing his hand to brush his black bangs out of his eyes. "Pfft, who do you take me for? I'm a professional." He paused. "I always clean up after myself."

"Not helping."

"I see it is helping, your asshole's finally unclenched. Get behind the wheel already and show 'em how the Void Eaters roll."

Elliot smiled - this engine-obsessed idiot really did make him stop sweating. Is this the magic of experienced racers? Seems legit.

Sparkle in a tight white jumpsuit - a cute little thing with a million-dollar smile - was bouncing between the cars at the starting line like a fairy who'd had too much syrup. She'd convinced Theo to let her be the "starter girl," though he'd rolled his eyes so hard at the cliché that it seemed he might need eye surgery.

Women, man. Even the strongest of us are powerless against them.

Sparkle raised the flag - black, with the Void Eaters symbol - and started shouting to be heard clearly:

"THREE!..."

Elliot gripped the steering wheel tighter, steadying his breath. Adrenaline began pumping through his veins like liquid fire in familiar pulses.

"TWO!..."

The air filled with the roar of engines, like a fucking pride of mechanical lions.

"ONE!..."

His heart pounded like a vein-wrapped drum.

"GO!"

The cars shot off the line, making Sparkle laugh and squeal as she pressed her hands to her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, the flag flying from her hand.

Elliot started off really well - the advantages of knowing a road so well you could practically drive it blindfolded. The bastards from Genesis and the other Void Eaters guys were tough competition, but he took calculated risks that paid off - on the first stretch, before it started to narrow, he pulled well ahead. So far, everything was going according to plan. Elliot mentally counted the meters - soon the narrow passage would appear, and he was just fucking lucky he'd clear it alone. He put his hand on the gear shift when something in his peripheral vision made him frown.

There was something there.

Too big to be a cat, let alone a bird.

A chill shot down Elliot's spine like the touch of fucking Krampus - there was a person. On the fucking Void Eaters' track. Right in front of his car.

"FUCK!" Elliot cranked the wheel, letting his Nissan drift, leaving burnt tire marks as he came to a jolting stop. The person who had somehow ended up on the road fell, and the guy's stomach clenched - he was sure he hadn't hit them, but fuck, leaving a scared normie on a track where they'd be turned into burger filling any second?

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" Elliot cursed again, jumping out of the Nissan and running to the person on the road, acting almost purely on instinct. He'd lost all his advantage. He'd lost speed. FUCK. He could almost feel the air trembling from the approaching cars.

He was going to lose again.

The guy bent over the person - a girl, a fucking normie girl who'd ended up on the track God knows how - and throwing her arm over his shoulder - there was no time to ask if she was injured or not - ran towards the Nissan. Genesis car had already zipped past him, smoothly entering the narrow passage ahead.

FUCK!

Opening the back door, he tossed the girl onto the seat, lunging back to the driver's seat, starting the engine, watching cars fly past him.

He'd completely lost his advantage. His lead had evaporated into thin air like a deadbeat dad after hearing 'it's positive.'

He started the engine and peeled out with screeching tires.

"What the fuck are you doing here?! Did you get lost on your way to Starbucks?!" he yelled at the girl in the back seat, too disappointed, full of adrenaline and anger to think straight.