Kyle woke to the soft hum of morning light filtering through the blinds. The city outside was stirring awake… distant traffic, the faint murmur of early risers, and the occasional drone overhead.
He swung his legs off the bed, and stretched out the sleep from his muscles. The fatigue of yesterday's chase still lingered, but the day awaited.
Freshening up was a mechanical routine for Kyle: cold water splashed against his face, and a quick brush of his teeth.
In the kitchen, he grabbed the pack of biscuits he'd bought last night and cracked open the milk carton. He poured a glass, dunked the biscuit, and ate quickly. Breakfast for champions. Or maybe just for broke dudes.
Once he had finished, he headed for the garage beside the house. The door slid open with a metallic growl, and he entered calmly.
The place was a mechanic's heaven, and a racer's graveyard. Holographic schematics of engines, mods, and chassis specs floated over a workbench cluttered with wrenches, nanospanners, plasma welders and a cluster of circuit coils. Engine parts lay scattered like organs waiting for a body. Electric cables snaked across the concrete, glowing faintly blue from current leaks.
A holo-monitor hung from the ceiling, cycling through maps of the city's underground roadways, little red dots showing checkpoints and safe houses. A black power bike rested in one corner, its panels trimmed with faint electric veins.
And in the centre of the room, a tarp-covered vehicle sat still like a sleeping beast. It was Quinn's race car.
Though Quinn's body was never found, likely consumed by fire, the car had survived. Kyle had restored it, piece by piece, as an homage to the brother he lost. He ran his fingers over the bumper, memories flooding back.
After a while, Kyle turned away, walking deeper into the garage.
Toward the back, an exposed fusion engine… a hybrid V-8 with electric twin turbines, each no bigger than a coffee can, lay on a hydraulic lift… half open, guts spread. He slid on his goggles, grabbed his tools, and got to work.
The hum of machines filled the space. Sparks danced. The smell of oil and heated metal filled the air.
Several hours later,
The sun was fully out now, and it was past noon. Kyle was still in the garage, currently working on a plasma-induction turbo booster: a device meant to flood compressed ionized air into a car's combustion chamber, squeezing every ounce of speed out of the machine before dumping raw voltage straight into the turbines to give the car a seventy-percent boost in acceleration for twenty seconds.
He had been building the mod for weeks, to push the Ford back at Bucky's Bay to higher speeds.
He fitted the sleeve into place, hands steady despite the ache in his shoulders. He moved the wires first: red power feed to the coil pack, black ground to the chassis, blue data line to the ECU… the car's brain. He twisted the last connector, gave it a tug to seat it, then stepped back and hit the test switch.
SPARK—Fzzzzzt!
A sharp crack popped from the coil, followed by a shower of angry blue sparks. The sleeve went dark, and the smell of fried insulation crawled up his nose. The booster had failed to power up.
Kyle slammed the workbench in frustration. This was the twentieth attempt. The wiring wasn't syncing with the ECU. He needed to reroute the signal through the secondary link, but the connectors kept frying.
"Bloody hell." He muttered wiping sweat off his face. Then he reset the breaker and tried again. But he only got the same result. A fried circuit.
"Goddammit!" Kyle hissed. "Why won't you fucking work?!"
"Maybe if you stopped yellin' at it, it'd actually work." A playful and teasing voice echoed from the entrance.
Kyle lifted his welding goggles, turning to see a teenage girl leaning casually against the wall. Her brown skin glowed softly under the sunlight, Afro curls framing her sharp grey eyes. And a silver hoop glinted in her septum.
She wore a white sleeveless crop top paired with black baggy joggers and white sneakers, along with a black jacket tied stylishly around her waist.
Kyle smiled warmly. "Good morning to you too, Kelly," he said.
Kelly pushed off the wall. "Morning?" she arched a brow, walking up to him. "Babe, it's half past four."
She reached out, brushing a smudge from his cheek, inspecting his face like a mother, or a wife scolding her husband. "You look like garbage," she teased with a smile.
"Ain't showered yet," Kyle chuckled, grabbing her palm gently. "How long you been standing there?"
"Long enough to watch you fail over and over again," she giggled.
Kyle sighed, turning back to face the mod. "I can't get the damn wire calibration to stick. The current keeps frying the stabiliser," he stated.
"I noticed," Kelly chuckled, then she held out her hand, asking for the micro-spanner in his hand. "Here, allow me."
Kyle passed her the spanner without question.
"Now scooch," she said, waving him away.
He chuckled but stood aside, watching as she examined the wiring with practiced precision. She bent over the coil, one finger tracing the data line, then pinched a tiny silver splice hidden under the insulation sleeve. A single twist with the spanner and…
"Done." Kelly declared.
Kyle blinked. "Huh? That's it?"
"That's it," She straightened, wiped her hands on her joggers like she'd just closed a fridge door. "Go on, test it."
Kyle flipped the switch. The sleeve hummed, a steady blue glow spreading through the coils like liquid neon. No sparks, no error, just the low purr of capacitors charging to full. It was working perfectly.
He turned to face her, eyes widened in disbelief. "How…?"
Kelly smirked. "Just needed the right polarity flip. You wired the fuse backwards, genius." she giggled softly.
Kyle groaned, facepalming himself. "I can't believe it. I was on this for five hours…"
"And I fixed it in five seconds," Kelly tossed the spanner back, wearing a smug grin. "What can I say? I'm just that good."
Kyle chuckled lightly. Kelly was indeed 'that good'. She was a robotics expert with practical knowledge of advanced automobile and mechanical engineering. And even as a pro mechanic, Kyle's skills couldn't come close to hers.
He let out a defeated sigh. "What would I do without you?"
"Probably burn down the whole place," Kelly laughed, already walking toward the door. "Now go shower, or we'll be late."
Kyle blinked in confusion. "Late?"
Kelly paused and turned back to face him, her brows raised. "You didn't forget our movie date, did you?" she asked sternly.
Kyle's eyes widened. He'd completely forgotten. But he didn't admit it out loud. He couldn't. He dared not.
Kelly folded her arms, frowning. "You forgot, didn't you?"
Seeing that frown on her face, Kyle panicked. He immediately cooked up the perfect lie.
"What? Of course not," he muttered with a wry smile. "I didn't forget! I just… lost track of time, is all."
"Good," Kelly stated like a strict mother. "Now hurry,"
Kyle nodded and tidied up the garage, preparing to head back inside the house. When he reached the doorway he crouched and patted his back.
"Shall I carry you, milady?" he said dramatically.
Kelly shook her head. "Nah, bruv. I think I'll pass," she giggled.
Kyle purred. "But you usually love it," he teased.
"Not when you're covered in sweat and engine oil, I don't." she retorted, laughing.
Kyle chuckled, leading her into the house. She settled in the living room as he went upstairs to freshen up. Downstairs, Kelly headed to the kitchen, teasing. "Take your time. I'll just be here… definitely not eating all your food."
Kyle laughed from the stairs. "For the record, Kelly… I ain't got no food."
"Then I'll make some," she shouted back.
Kyle just shook his head, smiling as he disappeared into his room. Kelly had been his close friend for eight years… that's right, Friend.
Ever since he moved to Peckham, she'd been one of the few people that he really cared about. They had a bond unlike any other, and were so close to the point that people thought they were couples… and perhaps they could have been. But Kyle wasn't ready for romance. He had a lot going on already.
After a quick shower, he dried off and pulled on the first clean clothes he found: a white T-shirt, black trousers, a black bomber jacket, and white trainers.
It wasn't until he was knotting the laces of his shoe that he realised he'd dressed almost exactly like Kelly. But he wasn't bothered. He simply smirked and left the room.
Downstairs the smell of garlic and chilli filled the small kitchen. Kelly stood at the stove, stirring a pot of instant noodles she'd found lying around. She'd tossed in an egg and some wilted spring onion from the fridge like it was nothing.
Kyle sighed deeply. "Dammit, Kelly. I was savin' those for dinner," he said, but he didn't sound mad.
Kelly shrugged without remorse, serving him a plate. "You can come have dinner at my place, then."
Kyle scoffed. "You know I can't come to your place."
Kelly rolled her eyes. "Is it cos' of my dad?"
Kyle nodded. "I think he hates me."
Kelly chuckled. "He doesn't hate you. He just don't approve of his daughter hangin' out with a street racer."
"But I ain't even raced in three years." Kyle defended.
"He doesn't want to believe that," Kelly said, slurping a noodle. "You know how cops are. To them it's; Once a criminal, always a criminal.".
Kyle smiled knowingly. "Well, they ain't wrong about that."
Kelly giggled and they both laughed, sharing a simple meal. After a while, they finished eating and set out to leave for the cinema. They were almost out the door when Kyle's phone suddenly buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then accepted the call with a tap.
"Yo, Ghost! My man!" a familiar cheerful voice rang out from the other end.
Kyle chuckled. The person had just called him 'Ghost'. Only one person besides his clients was allowed to call him that. It was Chris, his best friend. They had known each other even before Kyle moved to Peckham. They hustled on the streets together and had a lot of history.
"Hey, Chris," he replied. "Wagwan?"
"Today's the day, bruv," Chris said with excitement. "I'm recording my fifth track tonight. Get your ass to the studio, I'm 'boutta make history!"
Kyle sighed. "Wish I could, bruh. But I've got plans," he said.
"Plans?" Chris asked. "Wait… who you out with? Don't tell me you finally got yourself a girl." he teased.
"Actually…" Kyle hesitated as he spoke. "…it's Kelly. We're going out together."
There was a brief silence in the transmission. Then…
"WHAT?!" Chris exploded into a tantrum. "You messin' with me, bruv?"
Kyle chuckled. "Relax, man. It's just…"
"Nah, nah, don't tell me to relax!" Chris cut in, voice rising. "That's a violation, fam! You tryna break the bro code? Huh? Nah, bruh, you got'a choose. It's either me, or her!"
Kyle simply let out a chuckle. He was already used to Chris's outbursts anytime he and Kelly went out together. That was because Kelly was actually Chris's twin sister. And he wasn't very supportive of Kyle being too close to her.
Kelly, who had been waiting impatiently the whole time, finally snapped. She snatched the phone. "It's one movie, Chris. Quit bein' a bitch about it."
"Oi! Don't talk to your big bro like that." Chris retorted over the phone.
Kelly frowned. "Big bro? We twins, you big buffoon."
"Yeah, but I'm older by a minute," Chris shot back. "Mum said so. And that makes me superior."
Kelly scoffed. "Superior? In your dreams, Christopher," she said. "You were just lucky to be born first. But that doesn't mean you've got any brains in that thick skull of yours."
The siblings went back and forth, arguing for over a minute. Kyle leaned back, watching with a faint smile. It reminded him of his own sister. How they used to fight. How she used to laugh.
Finally, Kelly hung up and handed the phone back. "He's impossible." she sighed.
"He's just lookin' out for you," Kyle said, defending his friend.
"No, he's just upset cos' we're hanging out," she corrected. "I'm startin' to think he's jealous. Or maybe he's just gay."
Kyle burst into laughter, something he hadn't done in a long time. He felt genuinely elated.
Kelly smiled. "I miss that sound, y'know," she said quietly, staring at him deeply.
Kyle met her eyes and smiled back. "C'mon. Let's go," he said, bed walking out of the house with her.
He headed to the garage, pulling out his bike. Closing the door behind him, he swung a leg over and called out. "Hop on,"
Kelly paused, staring at him as a sudden realization hit her. "Kyle, why're you dressed like me?" she asked, laughing.
Kyle acted surprised, pretending to just notice the matching outfits. "Oh, wow! What a coincidence!"
Kelly chuckled. "You're really terrible at lying," she said, climbing on behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist.
Then leaning close, she whispered, "You know, people are gon' think we're a couple."
Kyle smiled. "Ain't that what you want?" he teased.
Kelly smiled sheepishly, but she didn't deny it. "Just shut up and go," she pouted.
Kyle chuckled, but said nothing. With a roar, the bike's engine came alive, and they sped into the neon-lit streets of Neo-London, the city alive beneath them.