No Dogs Allowed

Burn The Earth for Ashes Grow the Grass

(EDITED)(Note to readers: Some chapters ahead may not be in line with the new edits.)

The match was going well. That being said:

"Mother. Fucker!" Wynter snarled just as Windsor slammed himself against her left side. "Someone tell me we're winning or I'm gonna punt this kid so damn far across the track he turns into a front starboard."

"We're winning," Meredith assured. "By a small margin."

"A small margin?"

The biggest disadvantage of a small track was the fact that a smaller area meant less obstacles meant less space between you and the opponent, all of which meant point gaps were harder to hold onto. The smaller the track, the more vital the fronts—and their speed—became. Any margin was a good one, considering Diamond Prix matches were won by any number of points, and we had a semi-respectable ten above the Waves. But it was cold comfort.

Because Luan was fast.

Kane and Zahir were lapping the track at speeds so inhuman, they weren't any more than blurs of bleeding colors sailing past our eyes. But Luan wasn't far behind; if anything, he was neck and neck.

Kane swerved around a corner, heading for the logs. Luan raced around Meredith, his back wheel knocking into her front one and sending her wobbling into a pillar. He took the opening and slammed his foot into the acceleration. 

He sidled up beside Kane, the two parallel from head to tail. Kane soared for the log piles, but Luan knocked into him, and he faltered.

"King! Get your head in the damn game, don't let him in!" Coach snapped.

Kane didn't reply, but braked hard instead. He swerved around Luan in a clean sweep and headed for the tunnel instead. But Luan was already sinking back to block his path. Not to strike him, but just to force him forward.

"He's fucking with him," I said. "He's trying to mess with his head."

"Then quit letting him," Coach hissed into her mic. "Where the hell is defense?"

"Getting there!" Diego called.

As promised, Diego took the ramps and landed on Luan's other side. Kane slammed on the brakes and turned his bike in a perfect half-moon just as Diego arrived. He collided into Luan's left side who—although bigger than Diego—didn't have the time to react and went reeling into a concrete pillar with a resounding crash.

Kane soared through the tunnels, weaved through two pole series with textbook perfection. We rose above by another six points.

Coach clapped her hands and I gave a small grin. The crowd roared, the sound deafening as it rattled against my eardrums. Meredith whooped in approval.

The buzzer rang loud and clear to signal halftime. 

Everyone rolled to a stop at their respective canopies. Corvus tore off their helmets as the pit crew ran for their vehicles, Ramos dishing out waters and sports drinks as they made their way back to us. The Waves, although a speedy and snappy group, weren't nearly as violent as the other teams Corvus had versed, so it left them all with scratches and cuts at best.

Better for them, it seemed, considering it left them with ample energy to spare on fury.

"They're fucking with us, they're all fucking with us," Rosalie said. "Luan, the tails, all of them."