I knock my head on to the headliner of the Mustang as Mezos and I exit the vehicle. It's a car I would not recommend for tall people like me. I think I like the Subaru better even though both cars are loud and ride rough.
Makoto rolls out and takes her Mustang to an entrance at the rear side of the garage.
Standing at the front entrance are Rowynn in her gray mechanic's overalls, Dax in his black and red gym gear, Dr. Williams in her usual white lab coat, and a snazzy-looking monkey person in a purple dress coat, matching pants, black dress shoes, and mirror-like sunglasses.
Parked next to the crew is a black Mini Countryman Raid SUV decked with off-roading wheels, wide fender flares, and a row of four circular off-road lamps on top of the nose of the car. The car also has a roof rack with a matching spare tire, a gas container, and assorted survival gear strapped on top.
"We heard the great news," the monkey fae greets. "By the way, my name is Pádraig, in case you haven't found out yet."
The name rings a bell. I'm sure I read that name in one of the documents stored in that tablet Dr. Williams gave me the other day. After a quick moment, the thought comes to me. "Oh! You must be Mezos and Samza's dad, yeah?"
The monkey fae raises a brow. "Mez—oh?"
Mezos says nothing. Only grits his teeth and nudges Pádraig's side.
"Oh, of course! Absolutely," Pádraig says with a smile.
I'm not sure if that stutter is a great way to start a friendship, but I think I'll let it slide. I mean, he looks somewhat old. Maybe he's forgetting the name of his own kids.
"I believe we have something that might interest you," Dr. Williams says, motioning Rowynn.
Rowynn heads inside and opens the garage door, revealing a familiar ride.
It's my white electric BMW R nineT Zillers motorcycle. I'm not sure how it got here, but I can tell it's mine. The green vinyl swirly accents — I added that. It didn't come like that from the factory. Though the vehicle location module is not sending notifications to my cybernetic eye. If Rowynn and her mechanics were working on my motorcycle, then they must have removed it.
"Here you go, lass," Rowynn says. "There's your two-wheeled tank. Quite a thick fellow, ain't it?"
Come to think of it, the motorcycle is bigger than the average bike. I picture how it looks like a tank on two wheels.
"It's nimble and odd how it can balance itself without a retractable stand. Quite a sturdy design, I'd say." Rowynn taps the bike's outer shell. "I'm sure it'll prove itself out in the field."
"I purchased the motorcycle because it looks different and interesting compared to the average bike. Being different is my thing," I say.
"Then let's hope your deviance from the norm and your urge to innovate rushes our mission succeed."
A second later, engines from inside the garage start and rev nearby. Considering the lower-pitched rumble, I have to assume it's Charles's Dodge Charger or Makoto's Shelby Mustang, though the four-banger in Sebastian's Subaru STI could be a surprise.
"Sounds like someone wants to set the streets on fire," Dr. Williams says, her head tilting, and her knuckles tapping on her cheeks.
"Now that's a plan," Rowynn mutters while shifting her gaze to Dax. "Dax, go lead Ari to the test track."
Dax nods. "Okay, bro! Follow me. Time to see how your Beemer zips." The brawny man hops into the driver's seat of the Countryman and starts it up. The engine revs and the exhaust lets out a few crackling pop sounds, then some burbling fart noises.
Dr. Williams hitches a ride on the front passenger seat of the Countryman.
Dax rolls down the window and waves his hand, motioning me to follow.
Unlike Rowynn's racers, Dax takes his time, driving at a reasonable speed with his elbow jutting out from the side window. Dax seems to nod to something, but I can't make out the tunes that's drowned by the loud, sputtering exhaust of the oversized rally car.
I glance at my rear-view mirror and spot Rowynn trailing behind on a matte black exotic motorcycle, The Ala~de~Edan Wild Khulan. Behind her are four distinct vehicles, in order from front to back, a red Dodge Charger, an orange Shelby Mustang, a blue Subaru WRX STI hatchback, and a purple Dodge Challenger. This is the first time I have seen a Challenger in this group, so I have to wonder who's driving it.
We reach a heavy iron bridge connecting the main island to a race track built on top of an artificial island. Tarmac roads loop around a vibrant, lush patch of tropical vegetation. Just like The Great Fae Tree, pixies and miniature chameleon-like fae dragons also flutter from blossom to blossom along with the local fauna of birds normally present on the mainland.
Dax parks his Countryman at the pit stop while Rowynn and I meet at the starting line. The other four cars also cool down with the pit crew.
I glance to the side, spotting the purple Challenger. Looks like Samza is the driver with Mezos as copilot. Not gonna lie — there's a strange humor of a short bunny girl driving an 800 horsepower mechanical Hellspawn. She even kept the colored bumper guards on the front lip of the car, as opposed to Charles's Charger, which doesn't have colored bumper guards. Not surprising.
"Ari," Rowynn says, glancing at me, "up for a race? The Intimidator has the urge to electrify the track."
I almost forgot her bike is called The Intimidator. My brain is still thinking of Dale Sr. "A race?" I ask. Despite me riding on a high-performance racing bike, I have actually never took part in a race. However, I ran some laps on a CrystalCorp-sponsored race track last week. I thought I did pretty well but I'm no means a professional racer. Just someone who sometimes has the urge to break a few speed limits. Still, it could be an interesting experience.
"Of course," Rowynn says, smirking. "Three quick laps. Shouldn't take too long. About four minutes, maybe three, lass."
My WarGames coaches have always instructed me to pick my battles. However, I haven't always followed that advice, taking greater risks, hoping I'd walk away with a bigger reward. Most of the time, it works out. Though, glancing at Rowynn, it's obvious that she rides a bike with a ridiculous price tag. However, my BMW R nineT Zillers is what some motorcycle journalists refer to as The Dodge Challenger of motorcycles — a pudgy heavy bike with lots of power but costs less than many exotic bikes from the likes of Rimac of Croatia, Lykan of Dubai, and — of course, Ala~de~Edan. My bike may be a weight class heavier but for the power-to-weight ratio, I think we're matched, pound-for-pound.
"Let's do it," I grin.
"Then rev up your engines!" Rowynn puts on a black racing helmet with orange accents and presses a button on her motorcycle's console. The Wild Khulan speaks with a female robotic voice: Race Mode activated. Suspension stiffened. Electrical motors primed. Launch Control engaged. Rowynn revs her bike's electric motor. A high-pitched whine whirs from her exotic hyper-bike, a noise which is the antithesis of the deep growls from a V8 of an American muscle car.
I activate the launch control on my bike, readying myself for a showdown, revving my bike for show.
Before us, a bronze jellyfish robot floats and holds up a tower of lights, arranged in pairs with the second to the bottommost light being green and the bottommost pair being red. Drag racers call the light tower a Christmas tree. "Time to get ready!" the robot jellyfish speaks with a male posh accent, its lights pulsing with each word emitted. My racing helmet has a built-in radio that broadcasts the robot's voice.
The yellow lights blink and exactly 0.4 seconds later, the green light illuminates. "The race has begun!" the jellyfish robot announces.
Rear tires of both bikes squeal and we zoom ahead at neck-breaking speeds. I follow the racing line, hoping to make some sense of the track with Rowynn on my left, matching my speed.
She's trying to overtake, but I lay on the pressure, attempting to push the electric motor hard.
I feel a slight jerk, like a gear shifting. It's the first time I've felt this. Perhaps the engineers at Rowynn's shop did something to the transmission. If so, then it feels different, as if the bike is producing more power than I expected. Still, I try not to let it bother me. In fact, I welcome the extra horsepower. Still, I'll have to check out the motor and transmission after the race.
Rowynn and I reach a sharp bend. I slow down a bit, assessing the tightness of the turn. However, Rowynn engages fast and hard. No freaking way! I think. If Rowynn doesn't slow down, she's going to skid right off the track and crash into the ocean.
But no, Rowynn does not slow down. She can't slow down. Not at that speed! Rowynn's android brain knows something. Whatever it is, I don't know. The Wild Khulan fishtails to one side and then shifts hard the other direction, causing one hell of an inertia. The shift of her bike is at an extreme angle. She stabilizes and maintains her speed, zipping like lightning. I don't think I have ever seen anyone drift a motorcycle like that before. That's crazy! I guess no one's sleeping in Tokyo tonight.
There's a straight coming and I'm catching up. I override the transmission control module and shift the Beemer into overdrive. A sudden kick propels the bike forward, the front wheel lifting a bit, but I remain stable, attempting to overtake Rowynn.
Rowynn and I cross the finish line, and the second lap begins.
The En'ari android is ahead by a quarter of a second. This time, I know the track. However, it seems this lap gets interesting. Gates outside open and three vehicles enter the race from different parts, Dax's Mini Countryman Raid SUV, Sebastian's Subaru WRX STI, and Makoto's Shelby Mustang.
The jellyfish robot announces over the PA system: "Well chaps, how would you fare with moving obstacles on the road? It can be quite a challenge!"
With a quick glance, it seems the three cars are moving at average speeds, simply posing as normal vehicles on the road.
We reach that turn again where Rowynn did that insane drift. This time, I follow close and mimic Rowynn's movements. However, I have to take account the weight of my motorcycle and how much to counter-steer. Then again, Rowynn's an android and androids are naturally heavier than regular people. She's probably using her weight to help slide a bit.
I give it the beans and swerve my back a short bit to one side. Then I recoil my rear to position my motorcycle in line for the sharp turn ahead.
"Ho ho!" Makoto exclaims through the radio. "I see you have mastered the art of Kansei Dorifto. Congratulations!"
"Thanks, I guess," I say. Kansei Dorifto. Who would have thought it had a special word for that technique?
Rowynn and I cross the finish line, and the third lap begins. We're close, side by side. The floating bronze jellyfish robot broadcasts the current leaderboard with me ahead of Rowynn by one tenth of a second.
"Warning! Warning! Law enforcement officials in pursuit. Code Red." The bronze robot broadcasts on the PA with a monotone female voice. It returns to its normal posh male voice and announces, "You know what that means, chaps. Gotta book it to it, or you'll be back on the rocks!"
Three more vehicles enter the track, a red Dodge Charger, a purple Dodge Challenger, and a white Nissan GT-R. All three decked in blue and red police lights and loud sirens. This race has now turned into a chase, and we're the ones being chased.
I feel the surge of adrenaline running through my veins. Glancing forward, I spot distinct parts of the race track opening alternative paths, revealing ramps, oversized pipes, metal shipping containers, and other strange obstacles. However, parts of the main track close, forcing us to take new routes.
"Don't worry about reaching first place, Ari," Rowynn says, branching off to an alternate off-road path. "It's all about staying alive and not getting caught. Stay the course."
Sebastian and Makoto drive faster, attempting to outrun Godzilla and the Dodge muscle cars. Meanwhile, Dax takes an alternative route through a makeshift tunnel.
Just ahead, Samza attempts to block traffic by orienting her Challenger sideways, potentially causing a speeder to T-Bone it. A bold move.
Sebastian passes me and says over the comms, "Follow me, Ari!"
I trail behind his Subaru as he leads me through a hollow shipping crate and towards the center of the track, evading Samza's roadblock.
"Rowynn's gymkhana course can be nuts. Let's put that drifting knowledge to good use," Sebastian says.
Up ahead, obstacles comprising construction equipment, light posts, hollow shipping crates, makeshift ramps, bridges out of wood litter the arena, and seemingly random objects as if a pack rat once lived here. Nearby, Makoto leads Rowynn through the circuit while Mr. V — or rather, Vahn'dien — pursues the two in his Nissan GT-R. Three flying security drones also follow them.
"The course can be a maze," Sebastian says, "but if you're running from CrystalCorps' security goons, then you'll need to outsmart them. We'll have to run until they either get bored or get wrecked."
A simple race turned into an impromptu training exercise. Crazy!
I spot Charles's red Charger pursuing us in my rear-view mirror. While I'm not familiar with his driving skills compared to Sebastian and Makoto, I have to assume he's just as crazy and least likely to end up in a wreck.
I follow Sebastian, blazing through a hollow shipping crate and drifting around an excavator crane, our tires ever squealing and engines thrumming.
Three security drones emerge from behind the red Charger and zip ahead.
"New mission!" The floating bronze robot announces. "Destroy your security drones. Find your weapon or use your environment to your advantage. After that, escape the gymkhana arena."
Metal clanks boom and the exit gates shut.
"Ari," Sebastian says over the comms, "I see a pipe next to that post. Snatch it and use it against the drones."
At lightning speed, I snatch the pipe. It feels light, like plastic. I'm right — it's a PVC pipe but still useful if I can find a catalyst to help it build some shock. I yell to Sebastian, "Do you see something fuzzy? Weird question, I know."
"I have fuzzy dice below my mirrors," he says.
"Stick it out the window real quick," I command.
Sebastian yanks the dice and holds them out the window.
I match his speed and give the plastic pipe a brisk rub. Then I drift and turn while rushing a quick aim at one of the flying drones. With a true shot, I hurl the pipe like a javelin. The pipe edges past the drone, but the drone wobbles from the static charged pipe, colliding with another drone. The secondary drone loses control and crashes on to an idle excavator. Yet the first drone recovers and continues the chase.
"Nice trick-shot," Sebastian compliments.
"Thanks," I say with a thumbs up.
A few seconds later, Rowynn destroys a drone with a mid-air attack off while launch off a ramp.
Two more and I think I can take out both with just one trick.
Sebastian leads me to a barn-like garage, open at the front and back. Inside is a makeshift ramp at the far exit. "There's a bladed weapon there. Snatch it!"
I snatch the weapon from the barn's entrance. It looks like Rowynn's triggerblade.
"Then take the ramp," Sebastian says.
Speaking of Rowynn, I see her riding the opposite direction on the side, and she's wielding my triggerblade. She splits from Makoto's rear and engages on to a ramp. "Care for a mid-air trade, Ari?" she says over the radio.
Both of us launch, our motorcycles flying, almost like mid-air jousting, ready to clash lances. Yet instead of a sword fight, Rowynn tosses my triggerblade to me, the tip pointing up to the sun. I do the same. Her blade also upright mid-flight. Rowynn snatches her weapon by the hilt, and I do the same to mine.
Rowynn turns and descends and leaves a trail of small explosions, taking out the two drones behind her.
I point my triggerblade to the rear and ignite the burst, obliterating the drones into flying bits of scrap metal.
The outer gates open and Sebastian leads me to the exit where Rowynn and I, side-by-side, blaze down the straight, leading up to the finish line.
Waiting for us are the rest of the crew. Charles chilling in his Charger, Makoto musing in her Mustang, Sebastian standing next to his Subaru, Samza and Mezos cheering near their Challenger, Dax and Dr. Williams watching next to the Countryman, and finally Vahn'dien exiting his GT-R.
The race is over and it seems we both won. Rowynn and I, posing off like social media buddies next to our bikes.
"Mornin'," Rowynn greets, her white porcelain teeth grinning.
"Mornin'," I say, mirroring her grin.
"Nice day for racing, ain't it?" She lets out a low chuckle.
Nice day for racing, ain't it? I ponder. That sure was an invigorating experience, not gonna lie. In fact, it feels like I very connected with Rowynn, as if she was this older sister I wish I had. Sure, she's a machine, but still. She acts like a real person, and I think we jive well together.
"Congratulations," Vahn'dien announces. "Hopefully, we'll find some truth about your past. It's time to lead, Ari, for it is time to discover what lies ahead."
"Yup," Samza adds, "Welcome to our family." She emphasizes that last word in a strange low tone with her arms wide open and her teeth grinning.
Yes, it is time to lead, and I have to lead this my way, but not as a Crystal Valkyrie. No, I am now a Remnant. This band of racers and strange magic folk? They're my new family — the family that will help me search for a new tomorrow.