Mamono Street Racing CYOA, Story Text Only

Updated 11 March, 2016

Formatting syntax is for that one place with the monsters.

 

Mamono Street Racing CYOA

 

Welcome to New Fork City.

You are Anon "Miles" Prower, a recent university grad and, thanks to a recent crash in the jobs market, fresh out of money. As in, if you don't get your hands on some cash soon, you won't be able to pay next month's rent. Again.

All is not lost! Your best friend (at least, he calls you that, but you really just met him two years ago at a party your roommate dragged you to and ended up being designated driver again) Speedy Gonzales, bless his heart, can hook you up with a few connections if you want a job.

What kind of job, you ask?

Why, the incredibly lucrative and questionably legal career path of street racing, right here in New Fork City.

Sure, the job security is a little worse than a stint at McDingo's, but not by much. And it's not like you could land a fast-food job even if you wanted to, considering that nobody's even hiring any more.

So, a little hesitant about the whole thing, you let Speedy take you to his dealer, a real "homie" in his vernacular.

Speedy's pretty eager to get you into the business, which is a little strange since you even told him your only experience with driving fast was at the Dormouse E Cheese's games machines back in elementary.

But no time for that. The dealer (a glasses-toting centaur who does not look even half as enthusiastic about you than Speedy) is currently tapping her fingers on a notepad. In fact, she's been doing that for the past few minutes or so as you've been narrating your plight to yourself in your head.

She apparently wants you to make a decision.

What kind of decision?

Hell, only the most important decision of your racing career.

 

2000 Honda Civic Si

0-60: 7.2 sec

Top: 127 mph

Pwr: 159 bhp

Torque: 111 ft-lb

Trans: 5 speed manual

Notes: FWD. Expect everyone to make VTEC jokes. Including me.

 

1999 Mazda MX-5

0-60: 7.7 sec

Top: 125 mph

Pwr: 128 bhp

Torque: 109 ft-lb

Trans: 5 speed manual

Notes: RWD. Miata power adds +.05 attractiveness.

 

2003 Subaru Impreza 2.5 RS

0-60: 7.9 sec

Top: 110 mph

Pwr: 165 bhp

Torque: 162 ft-lb

Trans: 5 speed manual

Notes: AWD. Permanent blue color because it's what makes a Subaru a Subaru.

 

You don't have to worry too much about cost here. Speedy's doing you a solid here, since you helped drive him back to his place when he got wasted that one time and rubbed his belly when he vomited on the carpet. Also, he's gonna be taking 5% of your proceedings anyway.

Uh oh, the centuar is giving you a pair of angry eyes. You'd better hurry up.

 

Sage your votes, feel free to add detail to your options and I'll include them if they're interesting.

Roll with 1d20, be reasonable, and have fun.

 

**first CYOA after lurking /monster/ for a year or so. hope this works out! advice welcome.**

 

You eye the MX-5. It calls out to you.

The Miata wants you.

You don't care if people say it's an alp car. You don't care if it only makes 128 bhp.

The Miata is certainly the car you want-

Oh, shit. Is that an Impreza? And it's blue.

"Sign me up, sir. Er, ma'am." You call out, pointing to the glistening azure chassis holding the keys to your financial success. Or downfall.

Well, actually, not downfall, since you're already in the hole as it is.

The centaur just grunts at you, scribbling something on her notepad and tossing you some keys.

Wait, was it that simple?

"H-hey, are there, like, any forms I need to fill out or anything?"

You did just buy a car, after all.

"Speedy's got it covered. Just take the car and get out."

Wow, talk about killer customer service. Almost literally. But enough of that.

>You have acquired the 2003 Subaru Impreza 2.5 RS<

Would that you could spend a little more time thinking about the recent decline in quality of your life decisions, but your phone (an old Nokia, poorfags gonna poor) lets out a little jingle.

It's Speedy.

"Hey, my brother from another mother, what is happening in the up and up my fellow dog!"

What the hell happened to Speedy's English? Or what was left of it?

"I don't wanna rush you or anything, homesauce, 'cause you know I'm all about that chillax liyfe when choosin' some sweet wheels, aight?"

Biting back the urge to remark that nobody's spoken like that since 2004, you ask Speedy what he wants.

"Dayum, getting that ice-cold vibe from you, brutha. Just checkin' so you ain't wreckin' ifyaknowwhatI'msayin."

That was it.

"Speedy. Earth to Speedy. I just put myself several grand more into debt and really want to know how to make it back. I need to pay rent or the Cheshire landlady's gonna call her matango friends on me again."

You shudder as you remember.

"And I hope you're aware that those spores stain. Everything."

You hear static from the other side as Speedy sighs. "Chill pill, man. I got you. Just wanted to set the mood, bruv. Anyway, so here's the lowdown. I kinda need you to hurry up picking a car."

"Already done." You peer over your side to look at the Impreza. Or tried to. The Miata catches your eye again, like an ex-girlfriend you know you shouldn't be with but still makes you excited just to see her anyway.

"-non. ANON!"

"H-huh? Yeah, what's up?"

"I SAID, I also kinda signed you up for your first race already."

You nod your head. The sooner the better, you guess.

"Which is kinda tonight."

You look at your watch. 5:46 PM.

"Wait, Speedy. Tonight? When?"

Silence on the other side.

"8."

Oh, no. You wanted to race soon, but maybe "a week from now" soon, rather than "two hours from now" soon.

"Hey, Speedy..." You start.

"We can't back out, Miles. Miley. You mind if I call you Miley?"

You're about to yell a resounding "NO," the days back in school when you were beat up twice by the class: once for being a human, not a kitsune, and once for having such a stupid name in the first place.

But Speedy continues before you have the chance.

"I'm already $5k in. It's go time."

"And I'm guessing you can't ask for a refund?"

"That's not how things like this work, Miley." Speedy says with a nervous laugh. "Anyway, I'm gonna text you the address of the place, so get there maybe a half-hour early? I'll try to teach you the ropes. A kinda crash course." Another nervous laugh. "Uh, but no crashes, aight?"

You weren't planning on it.

You tossed a goodbye to the centaur dealer (who responded with another grunt) and entered your new car.

 

Continued.

 

The venue is a multi-story parking garage, with the first floor being the designated start and end point of the race.

You lean back on the hood of your car and sigh. You feel totally out of your element over here.

Just a year or so ago you were still in class listening to some professor lecture about how you needed to have proper resume-building skills to remain competitive in the job market.

Now you were sitting on a brand-new car that you couldn't even afford about to push it to its limits in a totally-not-illegal street race.

Speedy had said to get here around 7:30 so he could teach you some basics before you raced, but you were so nervous about the whole ordeal that you drove here early.

It was just 6:15 when you arrived at the parking structure, but people had already started gathering.

You take a look at your surroundings, hoping that they'd take your mind off of what would go down in less than two hours.

Humans and monsters both abound, most of them circled around one car or another. You spot an out-of-place Kikimora anxiously wiping her car's windshield with a rag. You read the car's label, still not the best at identifying cars. A Scion FRS.

Scion? Wasn't that the car college students got because they couldn't afford anything better?

It makes you feel a little better about entering this race with a stock Impreza RS.

You even hear a couple of manticores scoff at the car a little ways off. Something about still having stock tires. That might be good.

Let's see. What else is there? You have an entire hour to kill, so a little more people-watching wouldn't be bad.

Lots and lots of Raiju, strutting around their outlandishly colored Japanese imports. A couple of them even had some anime decals that you could recognize.

A couple gargoyles, which kind of makes sense. Nightlife was the only life for them, you guess.

A holstaur taking a snooze in her ol' red Pontiac.

And, oh?

Your heart skips a beat when you see what at first glance looked like a cop car, just a few feet away from you.

Were you caught before you even started your street racing career?

What would happen to your car debt?

Do matango spores come out better when you do warm wash or cold?

But you heave a breath of relief when you saw it wasn't a cop car after all.

No, it was a black-and-white Ford. A Crown Victoria, the signage said. The car looks deceptively similar to a police car, with the lights and everything, but it's also decked out with decals, lights, and all sorts of aftermarket goodies.

The driver, a dark elf, gives you a leer with lifted eyebrows when you look her way.

Damn, were you emitting obvious newbie vibes?

You... should probably stop staring at the elf. It'll get awkward.

You glance at your watch. 6:44. Still lots of time left.

It'd probably be helpful to talk to someone here and get an idea as to how New Fork City's racing scene works. Maybe make a few friends?

It's not like you have anything else to do before Speedy gets here except die or boredom.

>What will you do?

1. Talk to the out-of-place Kikimora.

2. Accost a roaming Raiju.

3. Awaken the sleeping Holstaur.

4. Approach the leering Dark Elf.

 

Decision time! Voting is now open.

**mentioned cars are shown in images.**

 

 

Of all the people in this parking structure, the Kikimora looks the most approachable.

 

As in, she's the least imposing of the bunch, to be honest.

 

You leave your car, making sure to lock up properly, and pad over to the Kikimora, who was still very much occupied with cleaning her car.

 

Well, the car actually couldn't get any cleaner than it already was, and the Kikimora is at best wiping off invisible dust from the dark-colored hood.

 

The car itself seems pretty normal to your eyes. Well, "normal" as in it looks like an everyman's (everymonster's) car. You're pretty sure you've seen this kind of car out in the streets when you used to commute to school, actually.

 

No shiny lights or vinyls, and only one sticker by the door that had a little "86" on it. Hell if you knew what that was about, though. Oh, and you could see something on the car's brakes that reads Brembo. Rings a bell, but for what reason you couldn't tell.

 

Besides that, there isn't much of anything that sticks out to you, which seems kind of fitting, now that you think about it. A Kikimora blending into the background at a meet pretty much fits the bill.

 

You raise a hand to grab her attention, and are about to call out to her when she stops her cleaning and turns over to you.

 

You're finally able to get a good look at her face, which you now notice is reserved, yet clear smile.

 

Her hair is adorned with a few silver feathers, but besides that her getup is fairly simple. A maid uniform with midlength dress and sleeves rolled up partway to her wrists.

 

Nothing fancy on her save for a lace-thin necklace that hangs a baby blue gem over her chest.

 

You don't know if you've been staring at her too much or not, but the Kikimora at least doesn't show any signs of discomfort.

 

She sets down her rag on the car's hood. "Is there anything the matter?"

 

You kick your head into gear. Right. The point of this whole conversation.

 

Figure out what's what, who's who, and hopefully get out of this race alive. And a little less in debt.

 

You put on a cordial smile (which makes you realize in the back of your head that for the last few seconds you probably weren't smiling, making the whole affair feel a tiny bit more awkward) and extend a hand for a handshake.

 

"Hi, the name's Anon." You leave out the rest of your name for obvious reasons.

 

"I'm new here, but was wondering if you could give me the lowdown on the racing scene in New Fork City."

 

You keep your language vague, just in case she was sizing you up already. At the best, she would figure that you're an experience driver in some other city, and came over to NFC to race.

 

Perfect plan, except for the fact that your completely stock car was sitting just a little ways from you.

 

And that the Kikimora might not even know that much about the scene here, considering that her car looks pretty untouched too.

 

But let's not think too hard about that, eh?

 

"You know, what the stakes are usually like, who comes here often, the usual stuff."

 

Play it cool, Anon. You got this.

 

"You want to know about the goings-on here, then, Sir?" The Kikimora responds with a chime-like voice with a distinct accent.

 

Wasn't quite British, and it definitely was not typical New Forker. But it sounded cool, whatever it was.

 

You nod an affirmative.

 

The Kikimora's eyes light up. "Oh, well, don't you worry a bit about that, Sir! If you want to know anything at all about the racing happening in New Fork--" She pauses.

 

"Oh, where are my manners? My name's Julia. A wonderful pleasure to meet you, Sir!" She's beaming at you now, the tempo of the conversation picking up.

 

"Right-y. So, the racing, correct? New Fork City has been the tip-top destination for racers here in New Thingland since time immemorial..."

 

You prepare yourself for a lecture from an incredibly enthusiastic Julia.

 

>Continued<

 

"The variety of challenging courses a mind of ingenuity could concoct was certainly thanks to the city's street planning, heeding back to the City's historical nods to the Roman Empire, and the rapid expansion of the city and its surrounding environs circa 1800..."

 

Julia might have been reserved at first, but once she got started all you could do was concentrate hard and hope that you could keep up with her.

 

"...at which point, the former Duchess of Fork was caught up in that very same carriage race, which would result in the roots of the flourishing underground society of street racing--the very scene you see before your eyes today!"

 

You nod, hoping that your slackening jaw wasn't too obvious.

 

"Today, we continue the tradition with races just like the ones hundreds of years ago. Some of the newer generation might not appreciate the historical significance, but even the structure of the contests here carry their own breed of symbolism." Julia looked satisfied for some reason.

 

"The petty races, or 'Fish Food' (FFs) as some like to call them,"

 

Your ears perk up. Finally, a term you sort of recognized from something other than sixth grade history class.

 

"these races mirror the earliest, least organized races in olde New Fork. All prospective challengers are free to enter, provided they contribute to the pot of prize winnings."

 

You hum in understanding. Julia smiles and continues.

 

"The next level of races, half-qualifiers or halfquals (HQs), are for recognized members of the New Fork racing community only. The benefit is primarily monetary, with larger stakes being the main attraction." Julia makes a wide sweeping motion, presumably for money.

 

"Half-qualifiers are also officially recorded, unlike petty races, and contribute to your reputation among the New Fork racers. If you are capable of succeeding in enough of these races to hit a prerequisite level of recognition, you will be allowed to compete in the full qualifier (FQ) races and perhaps even make it into the biannual tournament (TRN)."

 

You place your hand on your chin, thinking for a moment.

 

"So, if I'm hearing you right, if I'm not a member of whatever the guys are doing here, I can only do FF races?"

 

"Correct."

 

"And," you smile. "I can win even more money if I race in the halfquals?"

 

"Yes, that's right, Sir." Julia looks at you curiously.

 

"Please do pardon my prying, but... is prize money perhaps very important to you?"

 

Important? Of course it was important. Forget about honor, about qualifiers, and all that tournament bull.

 

You didn't need honor. You needed food and a way to pay your water bill.

 

"Yeah, I'm sort of in a financial bind right now, so prize money is a big factor."

 

Julia just smiles. "If that is the case, Sir, I might remind you that the total prize for the biannual tournament typically tops out at over $1,250,000?"

 

You just stare at her and smile.

 

In silence.

 

"...what?"

 

>Continued<

 

**Oh my gosh, this was turning out longer than expected. I'll get to the faster-paced dialogue soon, I promise!**

 

You take a moment to take this all in.

 

Okay, let's scratch all of that. Maybe we should consider the tournament, at least for the time being.

 

You know, it never hurts to have an extra one and a quarter million lying around, right?

 

Julia looks done with her explanation for now, which allows you to heave a sigh of relief.

 

You still had quite a few questions you wanted answered, though, and a quick look at your watch reminded you that you still had plenty of time left over.

 

What would you like to ask Julia?

 

'''Voting is now opened. This time it's a little bit different.'''

'''Make suggestions as to what to ask/tell Julia, along with a 1d20 diceroll. The roll result will determine whether we go with that suggestion, rather than the in-story success of that action.'''

'''After I get one or two good ideas, I'll write up the next few lines of dialogue and the next round of rolls can begin.'''

'''That way we won't have Anon here asking Julia a list of questions with no conversation flow, a la Bethesda game.'''

'''This will continue for a couple more rounds. Then I'll close voting and we'll go back to the normal narrative mode again.'''

'''Enjoy!'''

 

First things first, you needed a way to work on your car. A poor grad, you had no way to do so on your own, after all.

 

"Say, Julia." You begin.

 

She looks at you attentively. You feel your heart skip a beat as you see her right ear flop over as she turns to you. Damn, these pre-race nerves were making you all jumpy.

 

"Since I'm still starting off here in New Fork's scene here," (which was not a lie) "would you happen to know anyone who could help me out with my car?"

 

Wow, that was vague.

 

"With parts, I mean. I'm thinking about 'modding it up.'" You make some rotating hand gesture in hopes that it would somehow help reinforce the ruse that you knew what the fuck you were talking about.

 

"What car would that be, if you don't mind my asking?" Julia asked.

 

You freeze. Oh, yeah.

 

"Uh, that one."

 

You feel your face redden as you offhandedly point to your Subaru.

 

Julia gives you a bemused look. "Would that be the blue RS over there?"

 

You nod.

 

"And you said you wanted to mod it?" Julia asked for confirmation.

 

Another nod, a little less sure.

 

Julia hummed in thought. "What would your budget be?" She then gasped and covered her mouth.

 

"O-oh! I'm so sorry, Sir. I did not mean to bring up matters of finance if they are so sensitive..."

 

You stop her apologizing. "It's fine, don't worry. I was thinking..."

 

You remember back to the figure Speedy gave you.

 

"Maybe... five to ten thousand?"

 

"...ten thousand could buy you another rig to work on, quite easily..." Julia mumbles.

 

"What was that?"

 

"N-n-n-nothing, nothing at all, Sir. Yes, ahem!" She gives a cough a little too enthusiastically. "Ten thousand, you said?"

 

Well, you did say five to ten, but it looks like she's latched onto the ten figure.

 

"Yeah, but nothing too expensive?" You needed to pay rent, too.

 

"I'm not sure if it's quite what you're looking for, but I know a splendid little dormouse who might be able to help you out," Julia began smiling again.

 

"Really?!" You're ecstatic that at least something is going your way for once. You gotta take happiness when it comes, right?

 

"Yes, yes, Camille is her name, and she is so sweet. Let me just get her contact..." Julia rummages around in her dress, inadvertently showing a bit of leg in the process (which you pretend not to see).

 

"Ah, I looks like I've left my phone back at home... I'm sorry, Sir."

 

You clench your fist. Chance.

 

"That's no problem. Could I get your number, then, and I can get Camille's info when you get back?"

 

Smooth.

 

"Oh! That's a fantastic idea!" Julia waits for you to ready your phone. A twinge of shame runs through your gut as you show off your old Nokia, but now wasn't the time for that.

 

"My number is (xxx) xxx-xxxx."

 

>Julia's Phone Number acquired!<

>Your relationship with Julia is now Acquaintance.<

 

>What will you talk about next?

 

'''Voting is open again! See >>147959 for dialogue rolling rules!'''

 

You settle down for now. No sense losing the race over hype from someone's number.

 

You think about what to ask next. The history lesson on New Fork City's racing scene helped you feel a little more comfortable in the new shoes you have to fill, but you're still just as screwed for this race than you were before.

 

It seems like Julia is pretty up-to-date when it comes to this sort of stuff, though, so it could be to your advantage.

 

"So, about the race today," You try to be subtle in your segue, but honestly, you're too anxious about things to care much.

 

"Do you know who's going competing?"

 

Julia crumpled her brow. Was it an odd question to ask?

 

"Typically, petty races are very much an ad hoc affair. You can lock your position in beforehand for an increase in the stakes, but most competitors decide whether or not to race just a little bit before it happens."

 

Speedy's face flashes into your mind. What on earth was that fool doing, roping you into this whole thing when he didn't even need to? But you refocus on Julia for the time being.

 

"As of now, I know of two people in the race." Julia's voice sounds a little more cautious, and her words come out more slowly.

 

"One of them is a fairy in a charming little Fiat X1/9, believe it or not. But what I heard in under its trunk was very plainly not a Fiat engine..." Julia trails off.

 

"And the other person?"

 

"Oh? Ah, that would, eh, be me." Julia shrinks back into herself, and appears to be reaching for the rag to begin anxiety-cleaning again.

 

Julia? She was racing?

 

You shake your head. Okay, so Julia in her stock-ish looking car and a fairy in a "charming little" car with a not-so-charming sounding engine.

 

How on earth was this race to end?

 

Okay, now to look for a discreet way to ask about Julia's car without being too nosy.

 

"So you'll be racing in this car?" You point to Julia's FRS.

 

Julia silently nods.

 

"Looks very nice," you try to coax more words out of your until-recently very chatty companion. "Did you do anything special with it?"

 

"Just a little bit, yes." Julia places the rag down on the car's hood again as she replied. "I-, one of the first things I did was replace the wheels, since it was a fairly cost-effective way to reduce the vehicle's weight," As Julia goes on, her words gain more momentum.

 

"I kept the tires, but instead focused on switching out the springs so I could lower the suspension..." she went on. You find it a little difficult to focus when suddenly there's a lot of loud talking going on around you, but you try.

 

"I also... swapped the-" Julia's voice is now completely cut off by a loud rumbling noise.

 

>Continued<

 

"Ahahahaaaa! Did that fucker really just slap some offroading pipes onto an Element?" You hear one raiju cry out.

 

Well, you think you heard her. It's hard to hear when the whole parking structure is filled with exhaust noise.

 

"It looks like people are preparing for the race. I should go talk to my handler." Julia waves to you. "It was nice meeting you, Sir."

 

Before you could ask what a handler was or explain that you too were going to race, the kikimora had trotted off, leaving you to enjoy the deafening noise of (bizarrely enough) a Honda Element.

 

You look around frantically for the source of the noise, as if finding it could solve the problem. Ah, there it was. A ruby-red Element surrounded by a small crowd of onlookers.

 

You couldn't tell who the driver was, but he or she was sure entertaining one hellhound over there, who looks like she was going to bust her gut laughing at the noise.

 

From your distance, you couldn't hear the hellhound's guffawing, but she was bent over in mixed hysterics and pain, you could tell.

 

You looked at your watch, willing that you could start the race sooner and escape from that hellish noise.

 

7:46.

 

No way. You had completely lost track of time talking with Julia (and, at one point, being talked at by Julia).

 

You should have met up with Speedy over fifteen minutes ago. You grit your teeth at the incessant noise and begin to march around the parking structure in search of your friend.

 

 

---

 

It doesn't take long to spot Speedy, who runs up to you and gives you a big hug.

 

"Oh, Miley, my main man! Miley, you're here!"

 

"Yeah, Speedy. Sorry for being late, I just got caught up in something," you explain.

 

"No problem, no problem, let's just get hurried up and have you ready, aight?"

 

You could sense a delicate panic in Speedy's voice, and you didn't blame him. It was now ten minutes before the race and he just found you.

 

"Quick, quick. Take me over to your car and I'll give you a bit of advice before we start off."

 

---

 

You sit in the car, praying with all your might that the race would go well. Speedy's lecture may as well have been falling on deaf ears--your nerves right now mean you can't remember half of what he says.

 

Oh, he's looking at you. Must be finishing up.

 

"This is a small race." Speedy concludes, both arms leaning on the driver's side door. "It's a one time thing so you should be in, out, and done."

 

Your friend gesticulates for emphasis.

 

"Later, when we can get your stamina up, we'll get you signed up for some series. But that's later." Speedy shrugs. "Just focus on now and make Trevor proud."

 

You tilt your head. "Who's Trevor?"

 

"Oh, he's the guy you're filling in-"

 

Speedy quickly covers his mouth.

 

What?

 

You were a replacement?

 

"Waitwaitwait. This is the first time I've heard this-" you start.

 

"Love to stay and chat, but we got a race to win. You can do it, Miley." Speedy dodges the question with as much subtlety as an ushi-oni in a china shop.

 

"Hold up. Tell me what's going on."

 

But Speedy is already on his way out, leaving you stuck in the car to gawk at him.

 

"Give it your best, okay? You might be our Plan B, but you're number one in our hearts!"

 

Speedy yells at you with more spirit than should legally be allowed in the state of New Fork.

 

Looks like he trusts you, last resort or not. He seemed genuinely hopeful in your success.

 

You let out a sigh.

 

Maybe the anxiety was getting to you. Or maybe Speedy REALLY needed that five grand.

 

Anyway, you'll be okay.

 

Probably.

 

Hopefully.

 

>Continued<

 

---

A man who introduces himself as Shuichi walks up to your car, telling you the race is about to start.

 

He points you in the direction of a small cleared-out area where there were three other cars already waiting.

 

The fairy's white Fiat.

 

Julia's dark blue FRS.

 

And the mystery driver's red Element, which the entire time has not stopped its noisy revving.

 

You gulp in realization as to what lay before you.

 

The starting line of your first ever street race.

 

Your car slides into the gap between the FRS and the Element.

 

You look to your left and give a bashful smile over to a very surprised-looking Julia.

 

To your right, you see the driver of the Element. A guy about your age bobbing his head to what you'd imagine is music, which you can't hear over the sound of the Element's revving.

 

You appreciated his shameless sense of swag, complete with nighttime sunglasses. Nice. Let me just vomit over here.

 

Anyway, it looks like the race is starting. A metro-looking prettyboy stands in front of your cars, hands in the air.

 

Mamono of every kind let out a loud cheer, momentarily drowning out the sound of the car to your right. Thank you, hungry mamono. Thank you.

 

You mentally run through the race's course in your head one more time.

 

Speedy said that FF races tend to be very simply laid out, to encourage newcomers to race here. As a bonus, you pretty much knew all the streets you'd be racing on, since you've lived here all four years of university.

 

Hey, look. Your college education was already starting to be helpful to your career!

 

Now it was focus time. You stared down that prettyboy like you could shoot lasers from your eyes--you wanted to be the first to start.

 

Sure, you weren't the most experienced racer here, but even you knew that a good start could decide the race.

 

The boy's arms quiver a bit.

 

The Element continues to yell out a cacophony.

 

And, you didn't expect this at all, but Juliet's car lets out a deliciously low rumbling sound.

 

Whoa, were Scions supposed to sound like that?

 

Before you could ponder the question any more, the boy slams his hands down.

 

You shoot off, accelerating more than any good law abiding citizen should ever accelerate.

 

The race has begun.

 

>Continued<

 

Well. You think to yourself.

 

This.

 

This is different.

 

You were currently doing 70 on a city street, disregarding the lane dividers, and running reds.

 

All the dreams you had as a daytime commuter were coming true.

 

And it was a nightmare.

 

Heart pounding like it was going to burst from your chest, making your neck pulse.

 

Hands claiming a death grip on the wheel like there was no tomorrow.

 

And an amazing feeling of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

 

The craziest thing was that you were actually doing well.

 

You try to take your mind off of the sparse traffic passing by as mere blurs and think about your positioning.

 

You passed the Element, easy as pie.

 

And Julia's FRS stalled at the starting line, costing her precious seconds, so she was behind you as well.

 

You mentally apologize to Julia for leaving her behind with the obnoxious Element.

 

But ahead of you is the Fiat.

 

The white car ahead of you, aggressively weaving back and forth to keep you from passing, was a far cry from the usual Fiat fare you were accustomed to seeing.

 

Whatever the fairy in front of you is driving is not the light orange minicar that you'd see adorably putt-putting its way to the Starbucks next to campus.

 

No, this Fiat X1/9 is dead set on denying every pass you try to get on it, which were few and far between since you couldn't accelerate as well as before.

 

You didn't think the dropoff at higher RPMs would be this noticeable, but when you're trying to pass this fairy, it sure as hell was.

 

Shit. You were so focused on passing the Fiat that you nearly forgot about the turn coming up in a little bit.

 

Thankfully, your muscle memory kicks in even before you consciously realize it, and you find your arms already making the right turn for you.

 

You were used to driving this route, since it was the fastest way to get to that taco truck you used to frequent back when you thought you could afford it.

 

Mentally thanking the heavens for tacos, you refocus your attention on the Fiat once again.

 

It looks like the sudden turn took the fairy by surprise, and now you're gaining on it.

 

Perfect, things were going as planned. If the fairy kept messing up the turns like this, you might have a chance at winning!

 

As you thought that, you hear a low rumbing behind you (as well as a little whooshing noise), and see the flash of headlights in your rearview mirror.

 

It's Julia, rapidly catching up to your little one-on-one battle.

 

The Element is nowhere to be found, which is certainly a nice touch.

 

>Continued<

 

The three of you speed along, the last couple of turns in the race coming up.

 

You see the FRS creeping up beside you, the dark paint looking almost jet black in the alternating dim and bright lights of nighttime New Fork City.

 

Wow, scoffing manticores or not, Julia's ride was easily passing you by.

 

The Fiat wouldn't have any of that, though, and moved quickly to block-

 

Whoa.

 

It's happening so fast.

 

The Fiat, once again, didn't gauge its turn well, and ends up nicking your front bumper as it slows down.

 

Julia's FRS catches the opportunity and takes the gap that the Fiat left-

 

and goes sideways.

 

Like, straight up sideways.

 

Would you look at that, ma? Julia's drifting!

 

As in, if you looked straight ahead you could actually see the side of Julia's face as she pensively gripped the steering wheel, small beads of sweat glistening on h-

 

The Fiat by your side is freaking out.

 

You hear the squeal of tires coming from both ahead and behind you.

 

Julia's keeping up her own brand of pass denial in front of you, while out of the corner of your eye you could see the headlights of the Fiat flashing as the came in and out of view.

 

The fairy was spinning out.

 

As you come out of the corner, you shift back up (oh, what a satisfying feeling to get into fifth gear) and look for an opening in Julia's guard.

 

But no matter how you maneuver, Julia is already two steps ahead of you, slipping and sliding in apparent lack of control but always keeping you from passing.

 

Another turn comes up, giving you a nice two-second view of the science museum you would sometimes visit on a free day. And again, Julia's slipping and sliding keeps you from getting past.

 

Next would a quick cut through the residential district, then back to the parking structure.

 

And then you hear what hell must sound like if hell were a badly modded Element.

 

"BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH"

 

How appropriate for a fanfare to kick in when you're in the last bit of the race, huh?

 

Seems like your little shenanigans with the Fiat spin-out had given the Element enough time to catch you within hearing range.

 

Which wasn't hard, since if you lived in any part of the damn downtown side of New Fork City you'd be in hearing range.

 

No, the Element is an afterthought, since your real opponent would be Julia here.

 

Man, for someone as hesitant as she was to reveal she was racing, she sure has things going for her here.

 

The final corner before the finish is coming up.

 

Now's the time to be decisive.

 

>What will you do?

 

1. Be a little reckless. First place or bust.

2. Finish conservatively. No sense in inviting disaster.

 

'''Extra: Just for fun, embed a song into your vote post that fits the mood (or not). I'll pick one and listen to it while writing the update.'''

'''From experience, I know that my writing's affected by whatever I'm listening to, so take that how you like.'''

 

'''Voting is now open!'''

 

You decide to play it safe for now, since you wouldn't be doing either yourself or Julia any favors for scraping bumpers and, if you were unlucky, even more. You aren't in the mood to make the kikimora's car all messy if you could help it.

 

Instead, you keep your driving on a similar line as the FRS ahead of you. The FRS enters the turn, as you do a split-second afterwards.

 

You know that if you're going to pass Julia, it has to be right here. You grit your teeth again as you brace yourself for the adrenaline that would rush each time you came close to an opponent's car.

 

But it didn't come. Maybe you finally managed to feel comfortable in a race. Maybe you were just so exhausted that it was all your mind could do to focus only on the turn ahead of you.

 

Regardless, your breathing slows as you search determinedly for a space big enough for you to slot yourself in.

 

Julia appears to effortlessly push her car into drift, narrowing the available road around the turn but gradually slowing her down in the process.

 

You gun the accelerator as you approach the turn at a slant, in an attempt to catch up to Julia without nicking her.

 

Unfortunately, in your efforts to gain speed in the turn, you realize too late that you didn't adjust for the turn well enough.

 

For a moment, you're swept up in a moment of euphoria as you see your front bumper reach out towards the FRS, all the way up to its door.

 

You feel as sense of urgency as you make a hard turn to keep your trajectory from leading straight into the central divider.

 

Looks like you caught Julia unawares with your strange driving, as her FRS glides away from you to take a wider turn. Seems she also was looking to avoid a collision.

 

Taking a deep breath, you downshift to third before gradually making yourself back to fifth, having lost a fair amount of RPMs in that last-minute turn.

 

It was unorthodox, but it worked, right? You didn't hit Julia, and you were now head to head in the last stretch of the race.

 

From where you are, the parking structure is a dim, brown-gray square, under the deep neon-blue sky, free of any stars, as a result of New Fork City's infamous light pollution.

 

The bright yellow lights screaming forward from the mouth of the parking structure are signs of vivid life waiting for you.

 

The finish line is dead ahead of you, maybe ten seconds away at your current speed.

 

You aren't close enough to make out distinct figures, but suffice to say you have quite the crowd.

 

Before you can wonder whether it was normal for an ad hoc FF race to have a big crowd like that, you catch something out of your peripheral vision.

 

It was the FRS, pitch of its revving increasing much faster than your Impreza.

 

Oh, no. You were so close.

 

You literally have maybe five seconds before you hit the end of the race, but as much as you will your car to go faster, the FRS gains on, then passes you, leaving you to stare not at the finish line, but at Julia's rear license plate.

 

To add insult to injury, you hear the Element right behind you as well. It might have been behind you before, you couldn't tell. You zoned out of everything but that last turn, to be honest.

 

But there's no way in hell you'd take third place, especially to that Element.

 

You keep the pedal floored all the way to the finish line, eyes burning as New Fork night scenery is abruptly replaced with myriad fluorescent lights.

 

>Continued<

 

--

You wipe the sweat you didn't know you had off your brow.

Sure, you didn't win, but it was your first race, so what did you expect?

All in all a decent performance.

You stagger out of the Impreza, gripping the roof as you regain your balance.

Julia, on the other hand, steps out of her FRS as if she had just come back home from shopping at Trader Jinko's, completely unfazed.

The dudebro in the Element stays inside, a sour look on his face.

And the recently-arrived fairy floats out of her driver's side window to collapse on top of her Fiat's hood. She's breathing hard, and looks like she just had a panic attack.

Speedy is the first one to approach you, laughing all the while. He jovially slaps your back, and you have to grip harder on your car as your knees suddenly buckle.

"Hey, Speedy." You meekly let out.

"Heeeyyyyyy my main man Miley. Lookitchu, ah? All grown up, ready to take on the racing world!"

You frown at him for a moment. It was great that you came out of this whole process alive, but you didn't win first.

"Hey, Speedy, what about the money? I got second, right?"

"The money, huh." Speedy's expression calmed a bit. "Yeah, not getting the full prize, but don't worry too much, mang. It's your first time, and at least you won something."

Wait, you won something?

"Yeah, yeah." Speedy explains to your confused-looking face. "That's how FF races work, dude. Finish in the top half, and you get money from the suckers who finish after you."

So that means you and Julia would be splitting all the money, while fairy and Element-bro would take the losses.

That's a bit of relief. "So how much did we win?"

Speedy places his thumb on his nose. "Hum, we're getting $12k for this one, so minus the five we had down earlier, we got ourselves seven grand, straight up."

Your raise your eyebrows. "Wait, so we won seven thousand just for that? I thought we only put down five thousand?"

Speedy rubs the back of his head. "That's just the ante, the other guys are covering the rest. 'Winners win big, losers lose big' is how we op'rate over here. O'course, we didn't win as much as the little lady over there." He points to Julia.

That was good to know. It'd be all fine and dandy as long as you stayed in the top half of FF races. Take last place, though, and you'd have a lot more than just rent to pay.

You stay and chat a little bit more with Speedy, taking care of some of the smaller, logistical details.

You feel a little antsy, since you want to check out the aftermath of the race.

A few minutes pass, and Speedy lets you free. You are now free to move about the cabin, er parking structure.

>Who will you talk to?

1. Congratulate Julia on the win

2. Ask the fairy if she's okay

3. Hit up the Element-bro and see how he's doing.

 

Well, you aren't a sore loser, that's for sure, so you head on over to where Julia's parked, a little ways off from the finish line.

 

It looks like the kikimora has given our collapsed fairy friend some room, as well as attempted to avoid the crowd that came with her.

 

This has the unintended effect of forming two big crowds: one around the nearly-passed-out fairy, and another circling the winner and therefore star attraction of the day, Julia.

 

This also produces an even wider scowl on the Elementbro's face, given that he's no longer the center of attention. Even his hellhound friend from earlier seems to be having more fun staring at the fairy than tuning in to an obnoxiously loud one-trick pony.

 

You pass by the Elementbro, making sure to sneak in a little wry smile as you do.

 

It isn't a giant grin, since that would be too theatrical.

 

No, you're aiming for a more delicate kind of smug--a perfect balance of subtly curled lip and invisibly puffed cheek.

 

Now this, this was how the masters would do it.

 

You've had your fun, and your smug expression gets wiped away with a bigger smile as you see Julia ahead of you, expression happy from the win yet a little flustered from all the attention she was getting.

 

You push your way through the crowd as you hear Julia's light chime voice try to answer the fusillade of questions being tossed at her left and right.

 

The kikimora's expression noticeably brightens as she spots you coming up to her from the crowd.

 

"Oh Ano-, I mean Sir!" She cries out.

 

"Congratulations on the win, Julia." you say.

 

Julia shakes her head. "No, thank you for being gracious about it. I know many an opponent might be upset at me for how assertively I drive, but that's what I must do. To keep the tradition of racing honored, I must race without any partiality..." Julia begins her alibi.

 

"Don't worry yourself over that. You earned the win." You cut her short by giving her head a pat. Not intentionally, you guess? Your instincts just sort of kicked in.

 

"Th-thank you..." Julia replies with a whisper.

 

Oh, shit, what were you doing? Kikimora headpats in front of a good forty-some-odd people with someone you just met tonight.

 

Your hand jerks a bit as you start to pull back, but then you mentally reprimand yourself. Doing that would only startle her and send even more mixed messages. You withdraw your arm slowly and make eye contact with Julia again.

 

Neither of you say a word for a moment.

 

Okay, think of something to say.

 

You wrack your brain.

 

Come on, if Julia isn't going to break the silence, then you will.

 

>What will you say?

 

'''Rolling time! Suggest what to say next and roll 1d20. Refer to >>148213 for details!'''

 

It couldn't be that hard, right? Thinking of something to say.

 

Yeah.

 

Yeahhh.

 

Yeahhhhhhhhhh you were drawing a blank.

 

Then it hits you.

 

It might have been the giddiness left over from your race well done.

 

It might have been the fatigue finally setting in.

 

But when you open your mouth something singularly unexpected comes out.

 

"Julia," you begin. "you're pretty cute. If you're free this weekend, want to..."

 

It is only at this point that your brain starts to process the words it hears you saying.

 

Oh fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. What are you doing?

 

The only significant relationship you could ever remember having was an imaginary one with that one girl with the sex hair from Amagami /ss/.

 

You had figured that street racing might involve you getting roped into a relationship, but that was because you considered the possibility of losing a race with your body on the line.

 

But for the sake of sanity, you decide to at least finish your sentence.

 

"to... go grab a coffee?"

 

Okay, keep it small, keep it safe. Maybe nobody will notice and you can forget about this whole thing...

 

Like hell that would happen. Julia's face is beet red. At least five different mamono are going "Ooooooh!" And you had raised your voice so much that the word "coffee" was still echoing throughout the parking structure.

 

Even the physical laws governing sound waves have forsaken you.

 

A rushing pressure in the pit of your stomach feels oddly satisfied, knowing that there's now no way you can back out of the promise.

 

You actually hate the idea of chickening out, especially when seem to click pretty well with Julia.

 

The circle of onlookers quiet down to a hush as they await Julia's answer.

 

You feel your heart beating as if you were still in the heat of tonight's race.

 

Julia gives you an apologetic look.

 

"Actually..." she begins.

 

>Continued<

 

"Actually, could we do it at my place?" Julia gives you a look like she's asking if she could have your left kidney, rather than a slight inconvenience (if you could even call it that).

 

"I-I make coffee, so we can..." her voice peters off.

 

You mentally curse that cheeky little fucker who chose to cut off the narration in the previous post at that particular point, then count your lucky stars that your first ever time asking for a date, which happens to be in front of a crowd of illegal street racers, ended in a success.

 

"Great! That's great, the, yeah, thanks." Your frontal lobe does not want to cooperate with you anymore.

 

"I got your number, so I'll, uh, call you later!" You waltz out of the crowd, avoiding meeting anybody's eyes, and march on over to the white X1/9 to check up on the fairy.

 

---

 

So, here's the situation.

 

The fairy is fine physically. No blood or bruising that you can see, and her Fiat is in pristine condition, too.

 

No, what makes you feel a little bad for not checking up on her earlier is the fact that the fairy is still on the car's hood, hugging her knees.

 

Wow, she looks really upset.

 

The crowd around her doesn't seem to be helping too much, instead intent on watching from afar.

 

You approach slowly and peek your head over to her, so she can see you.

 

The first thing you notice about her is her wings. They're not attached to her body, instead floating a centimeter or so away from her back. Little blue-purple things that seemed as sturdy as sugar glass.

 

You wave your hand a little bit to catch her attention.

 

The fairy slowly raises her head, revealing a restless expression framed by her peach-pink hair.

 

You ask the question you (hope) everyone else is thinking.

 

"Hey, are you all right?"

 

The fairy remains quiet for a little while before finally speaking to you.

 

"Yeah, I just... yeah." She doesn't move much as she speaks, content to just continue holding her knees. "Yeah, I'm good."

 

You don't need a minotaur here to detect this bullshit. This fairy was out of it, and that was certain.

 

You don't quite know how to help out this little fairy, but leaving is obviously out of the question.

 

There's nobody else in this crowd who seems willing to help but you, after all.

 

>What will you say?

 

'''Ready, set, roll!'''

 

You briefly consider using humor to lighten the mood, but you don't want to make light of the issue at hand.

 

Instead, you try to reassure the fairy.

 

"I'm just glad you're safe. I got a little worried when I saw what happened during the race," You use the gentlest voice you can manage.

 

"But it looks like you and your car got out unscratched. Safe and sound." You emphasize the later point, which elicits a slight response in the fairy. Nothing big, but you notice her shoulders release a little bit of pressure.

 

You continue this one-sided conversation. "Nice driving out there. Never knew I could see a car driving aggressively and defensively at the same time."

 

"Thanks. It's just a habit, though. I try to keep my sides open, since I hate the feeling of being closed in." The fairy seems somewhat comfortable at this point, and she lifts one arm up from her legs.

 

"I lost my cool, though. Got all panicky when I saw two other cars boxing me in. Happens all the time, I don't know. Maybe I have claustrophobia?"

 

"I gotcha." You say. "Don't sweat it, though. There weren't any crashes tonight, so it's all good."

 

"It's NOT all good!" The fairy bursts out. "Spinning out every time a car gets within two feet of me and then having a little session afterwards is not my idea of 'all good,' buster!"

 

Silence.

 

The fairy picks up the conversation again, toying with her holly-motif hairpin as she averts her eyes.

 

"Sorry, lost my cool again." You hear genuine regret in her voice. "I don't know, guy. Kinda pisses me off when I can make bitchin' track times but the moment I race with other people it goes down the shitter. Came in dead last tonight."

 

"The Element beat you?" You blurt out without thinking.

 

The fairy's expression is now of prideful disgust. "Huh! O'course not. Got third, but that's still last place in my mind."

 

"You're not counting the Element?"

 

She shoots you a wry look. "Was ''anyone'' counting the Element?"

 

You put on a "fair enough" face. "True that."

 

You spend a couple minutes ragging on the Element together, and the fairy becomes a lot more spirited in the process.

 

That sure was effective. But you know what they say: "through being dick, unity."

 

The fairy introduces herself as Fari, pronounced "faw-ree" and threatening you with violence if you get it wrong.

 

You introduce yourself, and she snickers at your name. But with a good-natured arrogance back in her system, Fari gives you a short nod.

 

"Thanks, Anon. Was feeling pretty shit 'till you came around."

 

"Nah, it was nothing." You say.

 

"Oi, stop that. With the whole deflecting crap. 'Oh, it's all good.' 'It's nothing.' It's actually a big thing, Anon, and we both know that. So thanks."

 

You revise your wording. "Y-yeah, you're welcome."

 

Fari gives a satisfied look. "Yeh, that's better."

 

Fari seems worlds better than before, and you take the chance to chat a little more.

 

>What will you say?

 

'''Rolling begins again!'''

 

Talking about the Element too much would get both of you depressed at the state of humanity, so you decide to talk about Fari's rig.

 

"Yeah, this ol' boy's the product of too many free weekends," Fari points to her X1/9.

 

"Found 'im just laying there in some punk's front yard, so I knocked on their door and asked if I could take it off their hands. four-fifty and it was mine."

 

Your raise your eyebrows, impressed. "That's a real nice price."

 

Fari shrugged. "Yeah, but it didn't come all nice like this. Paint was falling off, tires were flat, axles weren't aligned. Previous owner treated it like shit, it was like adopting a rescued puppy."

 

"What'd you do to fix it up?" You ask.

 

"Heh, more like what ''didn't'' I do. From front to back I repaired this thing, with help from some friends back home. Tried to keep its style as faithful to the original as I could, though. Have major respect for the classics, you know?"

 

You nod. You could get that, trying not to screw too much with a car. If you go overboard, you could end up with something that that Element. "You touch the internals much, then?"

 

"Yep. Swapped out the engine for starters. Bought myself someone's old K20 engine with the money I saved up. Makes a little less than 200hp on a good day."

 

You nod, pretending to understand what Fari meant. "Uh, cool." You look for something else intelligent to add to your comment, but run up blank.

 

Might as well ask the burning question, then. "Say, did you end up doing anything to the driver's seat?"

 

Fari looks confused for a little bit. "Hm? Ah, you mean that." She gives her own figure a once-over. "Yeah, fairy-adapted stuff is pretty new, so I can't even afford a new seat. A whole overhaul with a new wheel and everything costs even more."

 

"Then how do you manage to drive the thing in the first place?"

 

Fari grins. "Magic, mothafucka." She fist-pumps into the air. "No, for reals. I'm not like a wizard or anything, but I can do some simple psychokinesis."

 

Fari wiggles her hands. "I fly around the car high enough to see through the windshield, and use PK to control everything I need. Pedals, stick, wheel. Could even mess around with my radio while shifting if I really wanted to."

 

"So no seatbelts?" You grimace thinking what might have happened if Fari had crashed into a wall as she spun out.

 

"Obviously, man. If I crash into anything, I can expect a big faceful of glass, so I make sure I never crash. Simple as that."

 

That seems unbelievably haphazard, but you leave it at that.

 

"How about your car? That Impreza seems pretty vanilla from what I've seen."

 

You give an embarrassed chuckle. "Yeah, I haven't had the time or money to tinker around with it much yet." Understatement of the year.

 

"Damn, I know that feel. If only parts were free and we didn't need to sleep, right?" Fari crosses her arm. "Hm, but if you're interested in getting DIY on that car's ass, let me know. Might be able to show you some tricks without bustin' the bank."

 

"Thanks, that'd be awesome."

 

"Here, gimme your phone. I'll punch in my number for you."

 

You set down the phone on the Fiat's hood, next to Fari, and watch the fairy play a some DDR before looking back up at you.

 

"Just make sure not to give my number to anyone, aight? I'm cool with you, but I don't have enough in me to be doin' favors for your friends or some shit. We good?"

 

"You have my word."

 

"Righteous." Fari floats up and prepares to head off. "I gotta go pay the bosses your prize money before they get their panties in a bunch. Make sure to spend that money wisely, Anon. Don't waste it on a fuckin' terrible sounding exhaust like ''someone else'' here."

 

"Perish the thought." You say, crossing your heart.

 

>Continued<

 

>Acquired Fari's Phone Number!<

>Your relationship with Fari is now Acquaintance.<

 

You spend a little more time hanging out at the parking structure, chatting with the regulars and scoping out the scene.

 

You're feeling wiped, though, and by the time the next wave of races starts up, you decide to call it quits for the night.

 

>Return back to your apartment?<

[YES]   no

 

---

 

You collapse on your bed (actually just a mattress on the floor), totally drained.

 

As you fall asleep, you mentally run through everything that happened tonight.

 

It's a ritual you started back in high school, and it helps you process things.

 

And, in the case of tonight, convince yourself that what you just did is real.

 

A nagging feeling creeps up in the corner of your mind as you slip into unconsciousness.

 

You forgot to grill Speedy about that guy you're replacing, Trevor.

 

Ah, well. You have all of tomorrow to yell at him, you figure. You're too tired to get up anyway.

 

All you want to do now is sleep...

 

---

 

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.

 

You slam your alarm clock quiet and sit up in your bed.

 

That was probably the best sleep you've ever gotten in years.

 

You thought the late-night nature of street racing would ruin your sleep schedule, but this is probably the best-feeling morning you've had all month.

 

You had set yourself a 10 AM alarm since you came back to the apartment late.

 

By the time you finished washing up it was about 10:15. You take a seat on your bed and think about how you'd like to spend the morning.

 

You have a lot of new contacts you should talk to soon, that's for sure, and their phones aren't going to call themselves.

 

Who should we call first?

 

1. Call Speedy. You want explanations about Trevor, a way to get your money, and a meeting to plan your next race.

2. Call Julia. She said she would hook you up with her mechanic, which is the first step in making your car less suck. Also, you have a date this weekend to plan.

3. Call Fari. Figure out what kinds of small-scale, cheap upgrades you can make in your own garage. Who knows, if you're lucky, she might even come over and help you out.

4. Call your parents and tell them that you've finally found yourself a job.

 

'''Voting's open, no rolls needed. We democracy now.'''

 

You still have no clue who this Trevor guy is, and if you hadn't been so fatigued last night it probably would have kept you up late thinking about it.

 

It was time to call Speedy and find out, so you could avoid a restless night tonight as well.

 

You look up Speedy's number in your contacts list and give him a ring.

 

Thankfully, you're not rerouted to voicemail, and you hear Speedy's voice giving a quick "Y'ello."

 

"Yo, Speedy. It's Anon."

 

"Aw, hey, Miles. What's the up and up witchu, homestar?"

 

You sigh, but continue. Information is more important than pride here.

 

"Speedy, I wanna know..." You stop your inquiry early. Let's ask the easy questions first, then move onto the Trevor issue.

 

"How to get the money I won last night. Things haven't magically changed since I started up racing, and I'm still in a tight spot with money."

 

"Oh, yeah, yeah." Speedy sounds like he completely forgot.

 

Reassuring.

 

"That money, I already wired it to your bank account, so we all set, man."

 

"Wait, how do you know my routing number-?"

 

"Ah, come on, brutha froma nutha mutha. We've been tight for, like, ever. Of course I know your routing number."

 

Okay, this is sort of creepy, but if it means you get your money in just a couple days, then it should be all good.

 

"I also know your security questions, since the nice weresheep gal at the counter helped me out. Damn, dude, I didn't know you went to Atlantic High. You know, my cousin-"

 

"You know what, I don't want to know. Thanks Speedy."

 

"No problemo. It was super easy, transaction is already cleared."

 

"What, really? Isn't that a little fishy? I haven't made any legitimate income for the last maybe ten months. And suddenly I get a couple grand wired in?"

 

"Gotcha covered, mang. Eh, Sandy--that's the weresheep's name, Sandy--told me stuff like that happens all the time nowadays. Danuki and dragons and stuff with their crazy money schemes n' shit. We clear."

 

Wow, Speedy was actually being pretty reliable, despite how he sounded. And looked. And every other indication that any sane person would look for.

 

"Bee tee dubs, your bank also thinks I'm your brother-in-law, so let's keep this all on the DL, aight?"

 

"Damn it all, Speedy."

 

"Ey." You could visualize Speedy lifting his hands up in a 'not my fault' sort of way. "Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."

 

Okay, so that's the money situation figured out. Now to find out the next race.

 

"Thanks for that. So on the topic, when do you think we'll have the next race where I can earn some more cash? I'm thinking if I could have maybe a week or so to mess around with the car, then-"

 

"Oh, yeah. Forgot to tell you this, but you already have a race."

 

"Oh? When?"

 

"Uh, Saturday."

 

"Wait, you mean two days from now."

 

"Yeh. Thas coo, right?"

 

>Continued<

 

You want to yell at Speedy that it most certainly is not ''cool,'' but you have something else to ask first.

 

"And let me guess. You already have money down on we so we can't back out?"

 

"Yeah. But thas coo?"

 

"Speedy, didn't you see from last night's race that I'm still a newbie? The only reason I got second place was because one racer spun out and the other was in a POS. If I'm not as lucky this Saturday, we can kiss our money goodbye."

 

"Yeah, I know it's a stretch, but I can't help it. I put this money down more than a month ago."

 

"Wait, before you even called me to start racing for you."

 

"...yeah. What about it."

 

The curiosity would kill you if you didn't ask now.

 

"Okay, give me the lowdown on Trevor. Tell me everything you kn-" Wait, with Speedy's motormouth, you'd rack up a phone bill for the ages.

 

"Tell me everything I should know about Trevor as concisely as you can," you amend yourself.

 

You hear nothing on the other line. At first you think that Speedy's hung up on you, but you finally hear his voice let out an uncharacteristic sigh.

 

"Fine. Here's the short version. Trevor and I was tight, like real tight. We both came to New Fork City at the same time, back when racing was gettin' real big over here. Tried out racing together. He drove, I gave him backup. What the guys on the scene called a 'handler,' if you've ever heard it. We had a real system goin, if you know what I mean."

 

"Started off with little races, then worked out way up to some bigger stuff. We got super mixed in with the scene here, it was tight. Did some member-only races for a year and made ''bank.'' It was righteous, yo."

 

Speedy's voice sounds a little excited just talking about his past days.

 

"Even after we spent on car parts more money than a McDingo's cashier makes in five years, we still had enough money to light it up. Trevs was a magician, you know, with the cars. He made the miracles happen in the garage and in the streets, and I made sure we had enough money to get by."

 

Speedy lowers his voice.

 

"A couple months ago Trevs got, eh, ''proactively dated'' by an Oni. Some shit happened and the guy gets locked up for a DUI, I dunno. Nobody got hurt but Trevor's ride was totaled."

 

"Normally I'd just bail the guy out and we'd be back on track, but Trevs ain't about that life any more, even though I told him I already got the money all set. He said he wanna go straight, gonna do his time like a good boy and when he gets out, move in with his girl. Says he wants to quit while he's still ahead. I'm cool with that, but it messes up a lot of our plans."

 

"You see, by the time Trevs and I got on a real roll with stuff, we started planning races months in advance. We put down a couple grand here, a couple grand there, and we'd have a steady flow of cash comin' in almost like a proper job. The further ahead you put down the ante, the more cash you get, so it made total sense."

 

"O'course, when Trevs quit it all sorta went to hell. I talked to the big guys here and they gave most of the money back for the major races we signed up for, but for the FFs they still keepin' us accountable. Said if I couldn't find a replacement then I'd just have to pay up. So I called you up and here you are. If it weren't for you, I'd be up on the streets. And not because I'd be racin'."

 

You need a moment to take it all in, feeling a little more merciful towards Speedy knowing how much of a pickle he's got himself into.

 

You take a deep breath, then issue your ultimatum to Speedy.

 

"I got it. I'll keep racing for you, but first you have to do me a couple favors."

 

"What's up, 'cuz?"

 

"First, we don't overextend ourselves. After we finish up these races you're stuck in, we limit ourselves to signing up for races one month ahead, no more. I don't want the same thing to happen to you if our luck ends up going shit creek."

 

"Done. What else?"

 

"Second, you have take care of your debt on your own. I don't mind helping you out, and I feel for you. But we're both low on money, and we each have our own bills to pay. We each have to take care of our own business."

 

"Heh, I thought we was already doing that, bro-skillet."

 

"Third, you stop talking like that."

 

"No can do, bruv. Deal widdit."

 

You give another sigh, this time with much more good nature.

 

"Two out of three I can live with. See you Saturday, Speedy."

 

"Eyo, peece."

 

And you hang up.

 

>Continued<

 

---

 

Next up is to call Julia.

 

You bring up her info on your phone and press "call."

 

The phone rings four or five times before you hear the tell-tale click of someone picking up.

 

"Julia Harwood, history tutor. How may I," you hear a great big yawn on the other end. "ah, help you?"

 

"Julia? It's me, Anon."

 

"Hm? A, non. Whoooa, Anon, Anon! Oh, I'm so sorry, Sir. How unbecoming of me. Y-yes, Anon, Sir, of course! H-h-how might I be of service?"

 

You aren't sure if it's out of sympathy or adoration, but your heart is going a mile a minute.

 

"Y-yeah, we talked about one of your friends who's a mechanic last night, right? I have a race this Saturday night and was hoping you could connect me?"

 

"Oh, yes! Of course, I think Camille would love to see you. I can send her number and address through a text right after this...."

 

It sounds like Julia still has more to say.

 

"And... since I'll be visiting her this afternoon to get my car checked up, would you also like to... come along?"

 

You instantly agree. Having Julia back you up at the garage would only be an asset, you were sure.

 

"Thank you so much, Julia. I really owe you one."

 

"Oh, no. It's my pleasure."

 

You could feel the heat radiating from Julia's beaming smile all the way from your apartment.

 

"So, about our date this weekend,"

 

"A-a-a-a-h, yes, that! You needn't feel obligated to do so if you've changed your mind, I know you must be very busy with a race coming up on Saturday and still needing to go to a garage and..."

 

"No, it's nothing like that. I just want to know when you're free, is all."

 

"... Oh. Oh! In that case, how about we do tomorrow afternoon? Saturday mornings I teach quite often, but Fridays are usually free."

 

"That's great. As for where..."

 

You realize you haven't thought about where to take Julia at all yet. But you've already brought it up, so it's not like you can just hang up and tell her later.

 

You need to think fast. Where to take Julia tomorrow afternoon?

 

'''Lock is opened. Roll 1d20 and figure out where to take Julia for tomorrow's date!'''

 

Where do people usually go on dates? Hell if you knew, this was your first time doing something like this.

 

Think, think!

 

The park!

 

There was a park not even ten minutes' walk from where you used to have classes. It was perfect for a date.

 

It had trees, flowers, long winding paths, and a nice lake in the center.

 

You used to just grab a bench there and chill out whenever you had a few spare minutes in between classes, actually.

 

Except for Valentine's Day.

 

Because heaven help you if you were in any remotely date-possible spot during Valentine's Day.

 

You rub your shoulder in painful remembrance of the last time an amorous ushi-oni got a little carried away with her boyfriend and somehow got you involved in a game of "human slingshot" where the other guy was the ammo and you were the target.

 

Fun days, really.

 

"How about Middling Park?" You suggest. "We can walk around there for a bit, then maybe do dinner?"

 

"Hmm." Julia sounds like she's pondering something. "All right. After dinner, we could chat over coffee at my place?"

 

Whoops. You totally forgot that little extra detail about having coffee over at Julia's, since you had been so much in the heat of the moment.

 

"Yeah, sure!" You let out, a little too excitedly for your tastes. You grip your hair in embarrassment as you brace for Julia's response.

 

But she sounds just as happy as ever. "Wonderful! Shall we meet at the east entrance at five, then, Sir?"

 

Julia still insists on calling you "sir," huh? Whatever, you'll bring it up later. "Sounds good. I'll see you... well, today, right?"

 

"Oh? Yes, of course!" Sounds like Julia was spacing out for a minute.

 

"I will be calling on Camille at about half-past noon today, so if it agrees with your schedule, please come!"

 

You don't even need to check your calendar. You don't have a job, so of course you're free. It stings just a little bit to realize that.

 

"I should be free. See you soon, then?"

 

"Certainly! I would love to talk more, but I must to attend to other business."

 

"No worries. Bye."

 

"Goodbye."

 

Julia hangs up, but before you're given any real time to think about the date tomorrow, your phone buzzes with a text message.

 

It's Camille's number and address.

 

You recognize the street name, and figure it shouldn't be more than fifteen minutes' drive even with traffic.

 

You take a deep breath as you mentally prepare for the next few days ahead of you.

 

>Continued<

 

---

 

You never thought this sentence would ever be voiced in your thought, but...

 

This garage reeks of sweet cream.

 

A quick look around the currently empty premises gives the reason why. Coffee tins and empty creamer bottles littered the place.

 

They were stacked end-to-end on everything from toolboxes to one of the unused hydraulic lifts.

 

You were never one to complain about things tasting too sweet, but it felt like a good one-third of the air you were breathing was sugar.

 

A tiny metallic rustling noise interrupts your complaining.

 

"Hm? Whaddafuck?" You hear mumbling from a pile of empty tins.

 

A graphite-grey-haired dormouse emerges from the heap, giving you enough time to have a good, long look at her ruby-red eyes, and the dark circles underneath them.

 

"The fuck're you?"

 

Thankfully, you're saved from having to answer the honestly very angry-looking dormouse.

 

You hear a gentle hand knocking on the garage's wall from behind you. It's Julia.

 

"Hello? Camille?"

 

The dormouse's ear flickers as it recognizes the name.

 

"Oh, Julia. Morn'n. The fuck's this guy?"

 

Seems like the majority of the sentences this dormouse lets out includes at least one instance of "fuck."

 

"Camille?" Julia sounds like she's reprimanding a child. "Did you not have your morning coffee yet?"

 

Camille glares at the kikimora. "Get off my back. Had a long night, and I couldn't even get that piece of shit to work."

 

The dormouse tosses a glance over her shoulder, directing your gaze to a dirtied, ancient-looking car with just a couple patches here and there to remind people that it used to have a green paint job.

 

"Ah, you were working on the old Fairlady again, then?" Julia remains unfazed, plodding over to a ten-year-old coffee machine in the corner and starting up a brew.

 

"Heh, Fairlady my ass. If I can't get an engine running in there, it's just a fuckin' pile of scrap metal." Despite the coarse words, Camille seems to regard the janked-up car with at least some level of fondness.

 

"Not gonna give up on 'er just yet, though. If I sissy out now, I won't have any pride left in me."

 

Camille turns to you. "But that's for later. You dodged my question, Jules. The fuck's this guy?"

 

Julia brings a steaming cup over to Camille, who reluctantly accepts it. She takes a deep sip as Julia explains your situation.

 

"Hoo..." Camille exhales for a good ten-odd seconds. "Well, I won't turn you away if you've already come all the way here." The dormouse says in a relatively calmer tone.

 

She walks over to you and extends a hand. "A friend of Jules is a friend of mine, which automatically means I have too many friends."

 

You take her hand and shake it. Her grip is firm, and her skin feels rough. "Anon. Nice to meet you, Camille."

 

"Just call me Cam. Everyone calls me that, except for Jules," she points to her friend. "Some bullshit about the full name being a sign of respect, I dunno."

 

Cam's mood seems to have dramatically improved since she's had her coffee.

 

"Ey, Jules. Hit me up with another cup."

 

"Right away." Julia industriously sets to work on Cam's refill.

 

>Continued<

 

---

 

"So," Cam sets down what is now her fifth cup of coffee. "How can I help ya?"

 

"Julia said you could help me out with my car? I have a race on Saturday and need to stay competitive."

 

"Hm. What kinda car is it?"

 

"An '03 Impreza RS."

 

"Shit, man. You mean the car over there is ''yours?'' And you're gonna ''race'' in that thing?"

 

"Well, I mean, I already did race in it once." You try to cover for yourself. "I got second place, too."

 

"Hey, Anon. Go do yourself a favor today and buy a lottery ticket."

 

"Why?"

 

"If what you're saying is true, and you got second in a street race in an all-stock rig like that, you must be made of pure luck." Cam shoots you a grin.

 

"Anyway, I'll see what I can do. Two days isn't that much time, though, so you gotta bear with me, 'kay?"

 

Julia brings Cam cup number six, which the dormouse again immediately downs.

 

"So what kind of stuff you wanna do to that car, then?"

 

"Uh, you know. Mods to make my car faster..." You grimace as you realize how glaringly obvious you lack of knowledge is.

 

"Hey, kid." Cam frowns at you. "You want a ''fast'' car, you can sell that Subaru and buy yourself a drag racer. It'll get you from 0 to T-boned in five seconds flat." Her coffee cup lets out a ''ting'' as she taps it down.

 

"You want a ''good'' car, you're gonna have to actually use your damn brain. Crazy, I know, but I'm a mechanic, not a wizard. I don't just put a new engine into your car like I'm switching out a videotape and suddenly you get a hundred more horsepower. I'm not gonna bore you with the details, but it doesn't work like that, trust me."

 

You nod. "Okay. What can I do to make my car better, then?"

 

"Depends on how much time and money you got. From what you and Jules said, though, it looks like you're goin' through a shortage of both at the moment."

 

"Right now is bad, but in a little bit I should have my hands on more cash... But is there anything you can do for now?"

 

Cam fingers her sinuses. "Let's see. Damn, working on a shoestring budget like this reminds me of my college days."

 

After a few moments of thought, she snaps her fingers. "Okay, so here's what we can do."

 

>Continued<

 

"Today I'll make you a strut bar and redo your tire pressure. I'll also toss in an oil change if you need one." Cam starts counting off items on her fingers.

 

"I'll place some orders by the end of today, which should come in tomorrow. When you've been in the business as long as I have, you tend to get close to your suppliers." Cam takes a moment of glory. "Anyway, tomorrow I'll see if I can hook you up with a set of Enkeis and tires, and reflash your ECU. It ain't much, all things considered, but it's sure better than nothing."

 

You nod. You'll have to ask Julia to give the ELI5 later. "Sounds good. How much do I have to pay?"

 

"For you? Too much. But for a friend of Jules? I can take one grand."

 

You look over to Julia, who is now tidying up the coffee machine. She gives you a smile and a nod. "Deal. Thanks, Cam."

 

"On one condition. I want you to go home and search online on how to race properly. I don't want you to come back here Monday morning crying to me how my work didn't help. A bad workman blames his tools."

 

"Got it. Thanks again."

 

Cam crosses her arms and huffs. "Thank me after you win on Saturday." In a quieter voice, so that her friend couldn't hear, she added: "and don't overdo it, okay? If you get yourself killed because of your stupid-ass ego or some shit, you'll break Jules' heart. Then I'll personally call up a lich to necro you just so I can beat the shit out of you."

 

"You have my word I'll stay safe."

 

"Good. Then scram, both of you. I can't focus with you guys hovering over my shoulder. The sooner I finish work on the Subaru, the sooner I can get back to work on my Fairlady."

 

>Acquired Cam's Phone Number!<

>Your relationship with Cam is now Acquaintance!<

>Your relationship with Julia is now Friend!<

 

---

 

Julia and Cam spend a couple minutes catching up with each other. At the end of the conversation, Cam hands the kikimora a cardboard box full of... something, you don't know what.

 

Afterwards, you and the kikimora shuffle out of the garage.

 

Only then do you realize that you now have no car to drive back home in.

 

What do you do?

 

1. Julia is still here, so you could ask her for a ride. (+ Julia)

2. Despite the warning, stick around the garage and see what you can learn. (+/- Cam)

3. Take the train, since you still need to get some grocery shopping done. (+ ?????)

 

'''Voting is open again! Your choices now affect your relationship with others: + indicates a gain, - indicates a negative, and +/- indicates the potential for either to happen.'''

'''Relationship markers with ????? involve plot events such as chance meetings or new people. Obviously, the only way to find out what happens is to take the leap.'''

 

You decide to ask Julia for a ride back.

 

She promptly agrees, and soon the two of you are on your way.

 

"My apartment's at Lucia and 7th, past the bridge."

 

"7th Street... That's but a short walk away from NFU's campus, is it not?" She says as she turns a corner.

 

"New Fork University? Yeah, I was studying there until a couple years ago. Class of '14."

 

"2014? How fortuitous!" Julia's expression lights up. "I finished my history degree in 2012. We must have crossed each other on campus without ever knowing it!"

 

You try to think back to all the kikimoras you've met in college.

 

Nope, none of them gave you quite the same vibe that Julia did.

 

"Were you in any clubs back then?" You ask as Julia stops at the light.

 

"Clubs... Besides the IF Club, there was not much," Julia muses.

 

Ah, the Monster-Human Integration Facilitation Club, or IF for short.

 

Part social club, part student services organization, the IF Club was one of many little measures that the government had set up seven-some-odd years ago when the human race first discovered it was not alone.

 

"I also occasionally participated in the Auto Club for their monthly meet ups, but I would not have called myself a regular member..." Julia's interrupted by a red-yellow blur that flashed by her window, accompanied by the telltale whine of a high-revving engine.

 

"OH! Dear." Julia jerks the steering wheel towards you to give the passing car more room to the left.

 

Good thing she did, too, since that first car is followed quickly afterwards by four other speeding cars, each with a similar red-yellow paint job.

 

"What was that about?" You wonder, squinting your eyes to see if you could catch a glimpse of the fast-vanishing cars ahead of you.

 

Julia has her hand on her chest as she takes a couple deep breaths.

 

"You okay?" You ask.

 

Julia nods, still catching her breath.

 

"Those guys must have been going at least a hundred miles per hour." You frown. "And in broad daylight, too. Aren't they afraid of the cops?"

 

The mystery speeders were too fast to figure out the car model, but you could see how well the drivers had woven through traffic just then.

 

"I wonder if those guys'll be at the meet on Saturday-" you stop, realizing that Julia still hasn't calmed down. "Hey, Julia. Really, are you all right? You're really tensed up."

 

"I'm... *gasp* quite all right, thank *breath* you." The stoplight has long since turned green, and Julia's car crawls to a start again.

 

You let out a little chuckle. "Never would have thought that someone who just beat me in a high-speed race just last night would get so startled from some fast cars."

 

Julia does not look amused. "Then was then, and now is now." She puffs her cheeks. "For clarification, those cars made a singularly unanticipated appearance. I-I was not in the correct mindset to expect something like that."

 

You'd be a lot more convinced of Julia's composure if she hadn't stammered.

 

Julia detects your unimpressed expression, and quickly turns her head to hide her reddening face.

 

>Continued<

 

---

 

You let Julia's flustered agitation run its course for a bit, then strike up conversation again.

 

By this time, you just have a few minutes left until you reached your apartment, so now's a better time than ever to ask about what would happen to your Subaru.

 

"Julia," you begin. "Could you explain to me what exactly Cam's going to do with my car?"

 

Before she starts speaking you quickly add: "and... explain it to me like I'm a kid."

 

Julia curiously cocks her head. "Um, well." She clears her throat.

 

"Big Sis Camille is doing some very special things for your car, to make it better, okay?"

 

At this point you could almost hear your heart begin to shatter at how immensely embarrassing this had turned out to be.

 

"So first, Big Sis will put in a strut bar. When you drive your car, it will ''squeeeeeeze'' and stress the body. But the strut bar is a piece of metal that keeps the car strong. Ah, then..."

 

At this point you don't know whether to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all or cry at how sad this was.

 

The worst thing is, you couldn't even ask Julia to stop her explanation, since you need this.

 

"Now, the ECU is a super-smart computer that can think faster than any human, so it helps the car..."

 

You just had to be strong and endure...

 

---

 

After a few minutes of Julia's trademarked Kid's Tutelage hell, she finishes her explanations.

 

You heave a breath of relief when you see your apartment building in sight.

 

"D-did I make sense?" Julia gives you a worried glance.

 

"It was perfect, thank you." You put on your best smile.

 

And simultaneously promise yourself to research more so you'd never have to experience such a pure form of sheer shame and embarrassment ever again.

 

Julia pulls up to the street next to the entrance of your place and shifts to park, while you click your seatbelt off.

 

You'd invite Julia in for a little bit, but things have gotten so crazy lately that you haven't had much time to tidy up your tiny living space.

 

Instead you thank Julia for the ride and head off, giving a little wave as you go.

 

>Continued<

 

>Your relationship with Julia has improved!<

 

---

 

You get home and have to use all of your willpower to resist the urge to flop down on your sofa and go to sleep. For some reason, fatigue is hitting you hard today.

 

But it's not even sundown yet, so it'd feel like a waste of time to go to bed yet.

 

You close your eyes and go over the day. You have a couple of choices.

 

1. Call up Speedy and ask if he knows about a group that drives red-yellow cars during the day.

2. Fire up the old computer and research how to git gud at racing.

3. Clean up your damn room.

 

Now that you think about it, You really want to do all three.

 

Alas, you are but one person, and cannot do all of them at the same time.

 

You start off by sending a quick text to Speedy, asking if you could talk tomorrow morning.

 

(Normally, you'd be wary about spending 2 cents on a text like this, but thankfully your service provider had a promotion for ten free texts per month.)

 

You'll probably Google the red-yellow gang later on, but it'd be best to hear the story from someone who knows the NFC racing scene personally.

 

You toss your cellphone onto the couch and take a seat at your desk.

 

You're about to push the power button on your ancient desktop tower, but freeze.

 

Your room is really nagging you. Well, to be specific, not the room, but its current state.

 

You haven't touched it much in the last couple of days, and the cumulative effects of no cleaning are starting to take their toll.

 

"Jeez, this place is worse than I thought."

 

You give a sigh. If there's any chance of Julia's coming over, you'd better make this place at least a little presentable.

 

You had a bad feeling that you might trigger some primal kikimora instinct if you showed her your room as it is.

 

I mean, it's always interesting and a little cute when Julia loses her cool, but you shouldn't intentionally set her off like that.

 

**You're not some sort of degenerate who bullies the meido or anything, right?**

 

You tap the power button on your computer and take the long loading time to start picking up bits and bobs off the floor.

 

It takes maybe fifteen minutes of industrious effort to clear up your place, but the floor still doesn't look that great.

 

You see hair, dust, and crumbs(?) speckle the carpet and make the determination right then and there to run over to your apartment's first floor office and borrow a vacuum cleaner.

 

You check your computer. Great, it's asking to restart for updates.

 

In the meantime, you need to get cleaning done.

 

---

 

After a few minutes of vigorous cleaning (after which you always seem to start sweating for some unknown reason, even thought it isn't even that hot outside) you nearly throw yourself into your desk chair and check up on your computer.

 

It "updated" but you could still can't tell the difference. Whatever. The more important thing was...

 

There we go. Browser up. Google. "how to race a car."

 

You click on the first link, an article on (big surprise) how to race a car.

 

You idly scroll through the contents, then move onto the other search results.

 

A lot of the tips seem useful, sure, but unless you actually get into a car and try them out, it's still hard to conceptualize.

 

You ruffle your hair in frustration as you remind yourself that your car is still held captive in Camille's garage until at least tomorrow.

 

>Continued<

 

You really should take some time to get some hand-on practice in a less high-stakes environment.

 

Somewhere like the track, or an abandoned neighborhood at night, where money isn't on the line.

 

You look around your room as if you could somehow find something that would solve you no-car problem.

 

...

 

 

Which is exactly what happens.

 

It's crazy, and you're not exactly proud of coming up with this idea, but, hell, why not?

 

You walk over to the vacuum cleaner you had set down on the couch and grip it by the handle.

 

If you think too hard about what you're gonna do, you'll probably die of shame.

 

Unclicking the device from it's stand-up position, you putter the vacuum around your room, trying to visualize a racing circuit around your small, single-bedroom apartment.

 

You place a mental racing line around your table, about the kitchen, into your room, and poking into the bathroom.

 

All the while you try to walk around with some sense of momentum, gradually walking faster or slowing down as if you were pushing a car's pedals.

 

Every once in a while you take a corner, stop, double back, and retry.

 

Each time you try to be more intentional about your acceleration, braking, and turning.

 

This is no replacement for racing, sure, but it at least gives you some spacial sense.

 

And that's a whole lot better than just reading an article online and imagining that it works.

 

You circle around your room a couple times, stopping by your desk to reread articles and make sure you're remembering your technique right.

 

On maybe your thirtieth lap through your apartment, you happen to peek into your storage room (not really a storage room, but a re-purposed closet).

 

And you catch sight of your old Playstation and realize you had a copy of that Gran Tamamo simulator.

 

Blushing flames, you put the vacuum cleaner away and practice a little on the game instead.

 

---

 

You spend a couple hours on the game testing out the little racing tricks you learned online.

 

At first you practice on the time trial mode, so you don't have any opponent cars distracting you.

 

You don't want to end up with the same problem Fari has, though, so you soon switch to normal races to get yourself used to the idea of adapting to other opponents.

 

No use learning racing technique if you can't adapt your path to the other cars around you.

 

It's crazy, but you feel yourself improving, if just a little.

 

>Your racing skill has improved!<

 

>Continued<

 

Your Gran Tamamo session is interrupted momentarily by a buzz from your old Nokia.

 

It's Speedy, letting you know he'll be free to talk tomorrow morning. Righteous.

 

You feel yourself getting more and more exhausted from (imaginary) driving and decide to take a break.

 

A growl from your stomach reminds you that you haven't really eaten a meal since breakfast.

 

A quick check on your fridge confirms the suspicion growing in your heart.

 

You have no food left. What do you do?

 

1. Walk over to the local diner. Food's terrible for you, but it's cheap and tasty. +?????

2. Take the train to the supermarket. Might as well turn this into a full-blown shopping trip. +?????

3. Order food and have it delivered, so you can stay at home and keep "practicing." +Racing skill

 

You really need to stock up on food. It hurts to see the big, double-digit numbers on your receipt after a shopping trip, but you know it's a lot more cost-effective in the long-run than going out to eat every meal.

 

You also like to think that you can survive on your own without having to rely on other people cooking your meals for you all the time.

 

You leave your apartment and lock up. Your feet take you to the subway station out of habit, since for the last few months before you got your Subaru, you didn't own a car.

 

It might just be the less-than-one-week's-worth-of nostalgia speaking, but you feel much more comfortable in public transit than driving around in your own car. It isn't nearly as flexible, sure, but there was a certain charm about it.

 

You actually smile to yourself as you swipe your aged metro card to get past the turnstile and seek out the line to get you to the supermarket. The best thing about train rides is that you don't need to drive.

 

---

 

You exit the underground station and, once you surface, are given a fairly flattering view of the New Fork City nightscape.

 

You remember the first time you walked about the evening streets when you took a trip here down from upstate.

 

The wonder in your eyes from then had all but died down by now, as your mind gradually got weighed down with worries about paychecks and taxes, but you can still feel a tiny something in your gut reminding you how once upon a time you thought this place was the closest you could get to living in a fantasy.

 

Your view naturally pans over to your destination, Ren's. It's hard to miss it, since the giant panda mascot on the building's signage could be seen from miles away.

 

---

 

You are greeted with a courteous bow by the ren xiongmao receptionist by the entrance, who then directs you to a stack of plastic baskets over to the side.

 

You take one and get on to shopping for yourself.

 

Canned soup, instant noodles, plenty of vegetables and fruit, and cereal (your main source of sustenance). This trip would cost you at least $40, to be sure.

 

As you grimace to yourself, you catch the light flow of fabric out of the corner of your eye.

 

It's a dark elf--not strange in and of herself, but because of her getup.

 

A long, white one-piece dress with frills-a-plenty. Not an unusual sight in one of the upscale parts of the city, but in this neighborhood? Over here, people don't even wear watches.

 

Weirdest thing is, she's rocking some old-style aviators that clashed harder than striped khakis with a plaid button down-

 

Wait a minute. You recognize those glasses, and even more that face.

 

Could it be?

 

You were 75% sure that this dark elf was the same one with the not-a-cop-car cop car last night.

 

You duck out of her line of sight and wonder what you should do.

 

1. Act normal until she notices you. Just in case it's somebody else after all.

2. Approach her and talk. There's no guarantee she even remembers your face.

3. Sneak up on her and scare her. See if she's so smug after all.

 

'''Votes open!'''

 

You feel an urge to mess around with the dark elf a little bit.

 

You don't know why, you'll probably blame it on stress relief. Even though you spent literal hours earlier tonight playing video games.

 

You creep up behind your unsuspecting prey, making sure to step lightly on the balls of your feet.

 

You check, double-check, triple-check that she doesn't see you.

 

The dark elf slims her eyes, searching the aisle for something.

 

Timing is of the essence. It isn't enough to pop up unexpectedly. That was child's play.

 

You feel you can hear everything now. The ruffles of her dress as she takes a few steps forward, the nigh-inaudible pads your own feet make as you shadow her.

 

You wait for her to start reaching for an item on the shelf. Mind focused on the shelving, this dark elf will have very little situational awareness left in her mind.

 

One of her hands grips the box of Special K, the other brushes aside her straight, silver hair.

 

She begins to read the box, and you make your move.

 

"Boo."

 

You pounce.

 

The dark elf lets out a yip so cute it should be banned across at least 20 of the United States.

 

"Wha-! Oh my- WHAT?"

 

And then she totally decks you.

 

You recover from the blow on the floor, clutching your chest.

 

In retrospect, you really should have tensed your muscles a little bit. The dark elf's strike was enough to make you wonder whether she left a dent in your pancreas or not.

 

You're about to push yourself up again, but spot your unfortunate victim walk over to a nearby stepladder.

 

Your eyes widen as you see her easily lift the very much metal and plastic item over her head.

 

You really don't want a concussion, so you say:

 

1. STOP! I'm sorry!

2. STOP! I'm so sorry, please let me go, I'll lick your boots and give you my wallet, just don't hurt my family.

3. STOP! Hammertime!

 

"STOP!" You call out.

 

The dark elf stops.

 

"Hammertime."

 

You hear a satisfying ''crack,'' only to realize that it was coming from your jaw, accompanied with the sensation of cold, hard metal giving a swift kiss to your unsuspecting face.

 

---

 

You don't know how long you were down for, but it shouldn't have been more than a few minutes.

 

You sit yourself up from the tiled ground and flex your hands.

 

Looks like yおu're pretty much 大丈夫 thouぐh.

 

You cあn move your 足と腕、そして it didん't seem lあいke your head gおt hit too ばadly なさそうだろう。

 

頭が痛いけど in tえrms of thいnking 能力、平気そうだ。

 

ダークエルフの方ni向ける。Thatエルフさんはあなたに話しているが、全然わからない。

 

頭がもっと痛くなる。"Ow, my hea頭。”You sa言う。

 

エルフがあなたに複雑な表情looked at you with.

 

Slowly, the pain in yおur he頭d dies down, and エルフを言ってることshe says you start to understand.

 

"...llo? Hello? You okay?"

 

You shake your head. You're finally able to sort of process what the dark elf is saying.

 

Okay, maybe you got hit in the head harder than you thought.

 

"Hello~? Anyone home?"

 

"はい、はい。いいってば。ちょっと、静かに、ね？頭がくっそ痛くて。"

 

"Wait, what?" The elf gives you a confused look.

 

"What?" You reply back.

 

"What did you say?"

 

"I said, I ''got'' it. Just talk quietly, my head hurts like hell."

 

"What are you-" The dark elf sighs. "Never mind. You're good now, right?"

 

You nod for the time being. Better not to anger this loose cannon. You feel like one more knock in the head and you'd go insane.

 

>Continued<

 

You don't have much time to talk for now, though.

 

A seething mad ren xiongmao with an employee uniform doesn't look too happy that your dark elf companion here used the stepladder as improvised weaponry.

 

You're in no state to talk right now, and feel like if you try to open your mouth to explain yourself, you'll just end up babbling.

 

Thankfully, the dark elf has some surprisingly smooth skills, and manages to get you, herself, and all of the groceries out of the Ren's safe and sound.

 

Now kind of exhausted from all the bullying (and getting hit), you finally explain yourself to the dark elf outside of the supermarket.

 

Or, at least try to. You slur your words at times, and at other times, the dark elf just tilts her head as if she doesn't know what you're saying, even though you try to enunciate clearly.

 

From what she can gather, though, the dark elf finally figures out that you're one of the drivers who raced last night.

 

"Oh? Ohhh. You're that guy from that last meet. I though your face looked familiar." The elf nonchalantly walks over to her car and starts loading groceries into the trunk of her car--not the Crown Victoria from last night, but a Cadillac CT6.

 

"I'd apologize to you for the punch, but you deserved that one." She shoots you a glare made of pure fire. "I will say sorry about the whole ladder thing. I just sort of... lost control, I guess."

 

"ああ、気にしないで" You say with a smile.

 

"Uh, thanks, I guess." The elf replies. "I guess I'd better introduce myself, then. Since I already whacked you good, twice." She says that with no small amount of satisfaction.

 

"I'm Aurie. Sorry again about the whole head thing. It should be okay, though. None of the other guys got permanent damage, so you'll be fine." She extends a hand.

 

You try to give Aurie's hand a shake, but it looks like your aim isn't that great right now, so it takes you a few tries.

 

You also try not to think too hard about what happened to those "other guys."

 

"Nice to meet you. I'm Anon," you say.

 

Aurie gives you an odd look, but brightens up when she hears your name.

 

"Well, Anon, to make it up to you, and as an offering of peace, what say you about hitting a cafe until you get your marbles back?" She adds with a mischievous grin. "So long as you promise not to startle me. And I'll promise not to knock your head back to the third grade."

 

You give a shrug and nod. Why not? You can't trust yourself to navigate the city's subway map in this state of mind, and don't feel like turning Aurie's gesturue down.

 

You toss your groceries into the Cadillac's trunk and head off.

 

>Your relationship with Aurie is now Acquaintance!<

 

---

 

When Aurie said "cafe," you thought of a typical Sundollar's around the corner, not... wherever this was.

 

Even your half-functioning brain could tell that Aurie had driven you to a very upscale, rich neighborhood in New Fork City.

 

Full-glass displays with designer handbags punctuate the various boutiques, hotels, and gourmet restaurants that litter the area.

 

And now, you find yourself still tottering on your feet in front of the Café de Vanille.

 

"Ah, Miss Aurie. How nice to see you tonight." An aged man in a tuxedo greets the dark elf. "One guest, I presume?" He said, pointing to you.

 

Aurie nods, slipping the old man a card that looks suspiciously unlike any normal credit card you've seen before. "The usual, please."

 

The old man nods, using his hands to direct you into the cafe.

 

>Continued<

 

A waiter seats you two at a small table on the perimeter of the fairly large room inside.

 

You take a chance to look around, and wow. Just wow.

 

If you had to pin the color scheme on anything, it'd be "golden brown." Gentle nighttime lights spice up the otherwise quaintly dim interior.

 

The inside of this cafe is deceptively large. From outside it looks like it might be a hundred square feet inside or so, but it's actually a whole two-level affair with a bar and proper kitchen and everything.

 

"Cafe" is a misnomer. This place is more a full-blown restaurant, if anything.

 

The tables inside are well-spaced out, and it's clear that whoever owns this establishment isn't worried about trying to fit a crowd of middle-class workers during lunch break.

 

The seats are speckled with an occasional guest here or there. Some alone, some in small groups of two or three.

 

There isn't much loud talking going on inside the cafe, so you can faintly hear some jazz music playing in the background.

 

Aurie cuts into your moment of wonder by tapping the menu in front of you.

 

"My treat," she says with a wink.

 

Something in the back of your head is still deathly confused at how the leering, faux-cop from last night was remotely the same person as the elegantly dressed elf in front of you currently asking you to take an order at what feels like a five-star establishment.

 

"A-ah, yeah." You don't feel like you're in any position to make a witty quip (even if you could think of one, which you currently can't), and obediently take the menu.

 

What do you order?

 

1. You're a poor jobless grad. Go for the food.

2. Stick with a coffee for now. See what Aurie orders, then play by ear.

3. Don't want to impose or be indebted to anyone right now. Politely decline.

 

You go for the safe option and start off with a coffee.

 

A smartly-dressed water comes up to your table, and you make your order.

 

Aurie just nods to the waiter, who replies with a knowing smile.

 

You still haven't recovered your full mental capacity, but you're pretty sure that was some secret-club stuff.

 

The waiter whisks up the menus from the tables and excuses himself.

 

"So." Aurie suddenly clasps her hands together, looking at you expectantly.

 

"So?" You reply intelligently.

 

"What kind of trouble did you get yourself into to end up testing you luck at the Barrings?"

 

"The what? Barrings?" Was Aurie mistaking you for someone else? You'd never heard of whatever that was.

 

"You know, the Barrings." Seeing your blank expression, Aurie explains. "The parking structure from last night. We call it the Barrings. Or at least, people in the know do."

 

"Ahh." Come to think of it, the structure was on Barring Street. "Meet me at the Barrings" had a much smoother ring to it than "let's go to that one parking structure on Barring Street what has all them street races on 'em and such."

 

"You really are fresh meat, huh?" Aurie puts her hand to her head.

 

You'd protest, but you're interrupted by the waiter, returning with a trayful of goodies.

 

"I don't know how many others you've fooled, but you can't trick me." Aurie's voice is tinged with pride, not hostility. "I can tell just by looking at you, and my eyes never lie."

 

You try to keep your stance dignified as the waiter sets down your cup of coffee. You wouldn't be shaken. "Yeah, I'm new to the scene," you admit. "What about it?"

 

"Nothing much." Aurie's doing a really bad job feigning indifference, as most of her body language is screaming interest. "It's just a little weird."

 

"What's weird?" The waiter sets down a teacup and pot by Aurie, as well as a plate of cookie-like things.

 

"I've been watching these races for years, and I've noticed that most of our new kids fit into two categories: vets from out of state, or rich kids who spend their parents' money on a luxury rig." Aurie's eyes narrow. "Clearly, you fit into neither of those."

 

"Was it my car that gave it away? It's so obvious I don't think I could have fooled anyone." You jab good naturedly and take a sip of your coffee. And promptly set down your cup.

 

In your attempt at swagger, you burnt your tongue. Aurie covers her mouth, trying to hide her laughter.

 

"If you put it that way, I can't really deny that." The dark elf chuckled. "But anyway, back to my question. If you're not a stupid-young'un who wants to burn cash on adrenaline, and you're not a seasoned driver come here to make your mark, then how in the world did you end up racing last night?"

 

You reach for a cookie-thing (you see, it looks way too fancy to just call it a cookie--it'd be an affront to its honor, as its breeding is so much more dignified) as you try to hide your reddened, flustered face. "I have some money problems, and nobody else was hiring."

 

You're afraid Aurie, the high-class débutante, would just laugh at you. But she gives you a surprisingly serious look. "I see. If you have your own circumstances, then I won't press you for anything." She finally pours herself a drink from the pot: green tea. **I'm sorry, I just had to**

 

"But this might be a good opportunity." Aurie adds, eyes now glittering.

 

"Opportunity for what?" You ask, partly worried but mostly curious.

 

>Continued<

 

"Before that, let me ask you a question." She drops in a cube of sugar into her cup and begins to stir slowly. "Have you ever gotten so bored of something, you'd start to get desperate for anything interesting to happen? It wouldn't even matter if it's a good thing or a bad thing, you just want ''something'' to happen?"

 

"Of course. We're bound to feel that way once in a while." Like in lecture, for example. You wouldn't even care if a meteor fell from the sky and killed you--you just wanted the monotony to end.

 

"Don't tell anyone else, but to be honest, I feel that way about the races here." Aurie takes a sip of tea, then continues. "I mentioned I've been watching these races for years, right? It's not just that. I've been betting on them too, almost as long as I've been watching 'em."

 

Aurie counts on her fingers as she calculates. "Maybe eight months in and I could predict the majority of race outcomes. Two years and I'm pretty much perfect at it."

 

You can't help but be impressed. "Wait, 'perfect?' How accurate are we talking?"

 

"95%. No joke, I can show you the records if you don't believe me. But anyway, you can imagine how boring it gets when you start to see the same races again and again, day in and day out, right?"

 

You actually can't, since winning bets all the time would more than solve your financial solvency issue at the moment. But you nod anyway to get on with the story.

 

"But then you come along, out of nowhere. No track record, nothing. And for the first time in years, you drove a race ''interesting'' to watch."

 

"'Watch?' How?" You ask.

 

"Use your imagination." Aurie just smiles. "Anon, the mystery driver who appeared out of thin air. Just from last night I can already tell, you're not like the little children who quit racing after they scratch Daddy's car on a thrill ride. And you're also not experienced enough to drive every race right out of the book. Simply put, you're ''entertaining.''"

 

You decide to take the remark as a compliment. "Thanks, I try."

 

"Keep on trying, then. I might have guessed last night's results right again, but you actually made my decision a smidgen more difficult. Even with these eyes," Aurie points to herself.

 

"So, what does this have to do with that opportunity you talked about earlier?"

 

"Ah, that. I want you to try something for me. Tomorrow night, there's going to be race. Not at the Barrings, but at the Grove, just off of Park Street. I want you to race for me there."

 

"I'd like to, but my car's in the garage, and I have a-"

 

"That's fine. I'll take care of everything. The invite to the race, the entry fee. And I'll lend you this." Aurie brings up a photo on her phone and slides it across the table to you.

 

It's a silver two-door Infiniti. Looks pretty decent, but then again, you can't really tell what's under the hood just from looking.

 

"All the costly additions are already done for you, so you don't need to worry about a thing."

 

"But-" You start again.

 

"You don't need to win first place. Just drive the way you did last night. Make it entertaining for me to watch. I'll let you keep whatever money you win, minus any damage you do to that car." Aurie takes her phone for a few seconds, then sets it back down again. "Here's the details." She points a slender finger to a calendar screen.

 

You inspect the info closely. The venue is pretty close to where you are, maybe twenty minutes by train.

 

The race itself is at 11:30 PM. It wouldn't be impossible to race tomorrow night ''and'' keep your date with Julia, as long as you make sure to end early.

 

But having to potentially leave in the middle of things if you and Julia run long isn't the most savory thing in the world, too.

 

Aurie finally gives you a gap where you can reply with your answer.

 

What will you do?

 

1. Race tomorrow night. Free entry and a better car sound too good to pass up.

2. Don't race, but keep Aurie in contact. You want to take your time with Julia tomorrow.