The night air was thick with gasoline fumes and adrenaline. Neon lights bled across the wet streets, reflecting off the polished hoods of the cars lined up for the underground race. Engines growled like caged beasts, each rev high enough to rattle bones.
Kelvin tightened his gloves, feeling the steering wheel's leather grip mold into his palms. Across the line, his rival tonight wasn't just any racer—it was Reaper, the man whose crash two years ago had nearly ended Kelvin's career. Reaper's black-and-red Nissan GT-R idled like a predator ready to strike.
"You sure you're ready for this?" Mia's voice came through his earpiece, soft yet sharp with concern. She stood near the start line, her figure wrapped in a leather jacket, eyes fixed on him.
Kelvin smirked. "I'm not here to be ready. I'm here to win."
The starter raised his flare gun, and the world slowed. Every sound—the rumble of exhausts, the crackle of tires—faded into silence. The flare burst into the air.
GO!
Kelvin's Mustang roared forward, rear tires screaming against the asphalt. Reaper's GT-R launched like a missile, the two machines side-by-side down the first stretch. The crowd's cheers blurred into the high-pitched wail of turbos spooling.
At the first corner, Kelvin saw it—Reaper's signature dirty move. A sudden swerve to force him into the barrier. But Kelvin had learned from the past. He downshifted, clipped the inside line, and slingshot out of the curve, brushing inches from Reaper's bumper.
The race became a blur of neon and danger—tight alleyways, blind turns, and sudden jumps over cracked bridges. At one stretch, Kelvin caught a flash of headlights in his rear-view mirror. Another racer? No. It was Shadow Crew, Reaper's gang, closing in to block him.
"Mia, they're bringing backup," Kelvin growled.
Her voice was immediate. "Take the east route. I'll handle the rest."
Seconds later, Kelvin heard tires screech and distant crashes—Mia had taken out one of the blockers.
The final straight was coming. Kelvin was neck-and-neck with Reaper again, engines howling in unison. The city lights painted streaks across their windshields. Reaper reached for his NOS switch—Kelvin did the same.
A deafening whoosh filled the night as both cars rocketed forward. For a heartbeat, they were tied. Then Kelvin's front bumper edged ahead—half a meter… one meter…
The finish line flashed beneath them.
Kelvin won.
But before he could even celebrate, a gunshot echoed in the distance. He looked in the mirror—Reaper's crew was swarming the area. And they weren't here for another race.