Lap three. Final lap.
The track knew it — the lights intensified like they were personally invested in the drama, boost pads multiplied like ARIA was throwing confetti at two beautiful disasters, and the background music swelled into something so absurdly cinematic it felt like we'd accidentally wandered into the climax of an action movie directed by a horny god.
ARIA was clearly living her best digital life, probably placing bets on which one of us would crash first.
Maria was still ahead. I was closing fast — the gap shrinking from half a kart to inches as we barreled into the final sector, neon flickering between blue and red like the track itself couldn't decide which magnificent ego deserved to win.
"GIVE UP!" she yelled, attacking the penultimate corner with vicious, elegant grace.
"NEVER!"
"YOU'RE GOING TO LOSE TO YOUR MOTHER-IN-LAW!"
"NOT TODAY, BEAUTIFUL! I don't lose to anyone — especially not someone I plan to corrupt so thoroughly she'll forget her own name!"
