They moved behind the W.M.C. compound to the test yard — a wide, tarred surface where the company tried prototypes and men in grease-stained overalls tuned engines like surgeons. Tonight it felt charged, every shadow full of speed. Men clustered around rows of polished machines; headlights blinked like a field of watchful eyes. Even the empty space itself seemed to be holding its breath.
Scott had handled the arrangements — permits signed privately, security rerouted, a short, brutal course marked out between concrete pylons and steel barriers. He guided Fidelia and Andrian past a line of powerful bikes, each one crouched and waiting, chrome and carbon glittering under the floodlights.
"Pick anything you like," Scott said, voice casual as he ran a finger along a fuel tank. He chose with the practised eye of a man who'd grown up inside engines. Andrian picked too — a beast with twin turbos and thick, hungry thrusters that promised a violent launch.
"This should be similar to the one you, uh, 'took' without permission," Andrian said, glancing at Fidelia.
"Borrowed," she corrected, still scrolling through her phone with one thumb. She was focused more on it and he was wondering why?
Andrian watched her. "Are you sure about this?"
She looked up, mock-offended. "Don't tell me you're worried about me."
He tried to sound casual, making a joke out of it "You know, I'm starting to think I should get another wife."
"Are you done?" Scott chimed in, shedding calm for mischief as he slid into his suit. "I'm itching to crush you already." He tightened his gloves, the grin under his visor more predator than playful. Then, all business, he swung a leg over his bike and gunned it. The yard answered with a low, hungry roar.
"Did you hit his nerve?" Andrian asked Fidelia, amusement hidden behind concern.
Fidelia shrugged, eyes on Scott as he warmed the engine. "I lied to him about my name, challenged him in front of his own crowd, inside his company… you don't think I hit a nerve?" Her voice was quiet, a scalpel.
"No…you definitely destroyed it," Andrian corrected, then let out a rough laugh. "You tore it away."
Fidelia disappeared into the trailer for a minute to suit up. When she returned, the leather hugged her like armor. She climbed onto her chosen machine, slid her phone into the secure phone-safe built into the fairing, and fastened the latch. The bike hummed under her like a caged animal.
She thumbed the screen. "April.. you there?"
A voice whispered through the earpod. "Yes. I've ruined the scan; the bike's in perfect condition. I've opened the control loop. I can push the thrusters to full capacity. Say the word."
"Good. Let's win this race," Fidelia said, cold and certain.
She turned her head and watched Scott a short distance away, hooded visor reflecting the floodlights as he coaxed his engine to life. The smell of burning rubber and hot oil braided with the night air. Around them, the crowd's excitement built like static. The starting line waited — a thin strip of concrete between intention and consequence.
The engines screamed as the countdown lights flashed red… yellow… green and then they were gone.
The two bikes shot forward like lightning, tearing across the smooth stretch of asphalt. Dust spiraled in their wake, headlights carving through the misty night air. The crowd erupted. The drone above followed fast, its lens locked on the blur of motion that was Fidelia and Scott.
"Look at that launch!" one of the spectators shouted. "Scott's already taking the inside curve!"
"He's got the lead.. he's got the home advantage!" another voice yelled over the roar.
But Fidelia didn't hear them. Her world was narrowed to the pulse of the engine beneath her, the vibration running through her bones, the wind that clawed at her suit. She could feel the heat of Scott's exhaust just ahead.. taunting her.
You think you can outrun me on your own track? she thought, eyes narrowing as the next bend came into view. We'll see about that.
Scott leaned low, perfect form, slicing through the corner. The drone's feed played on the massive outdoor screen, showing split angles his flawless turns, her relentless pursuit. The crowd cheered louder with every lap.
"She's right behind him!"
"No way she's keeping up with him…That's Scott's signature bike!"
"Look at her — she's coping..I think she will catch up atleast!"
She did.
Every turn was a battle against control, but Fidelia didn't flinch. She shifted her weight, let the rear tire skid for a split second, and rebalanced.
Scott grinned under his helmet. Not bad, Crawford. But not enough.
He gunned the throttle and surged ahead, widening the gap. The crowd roared as his name flashed on the scoreboard — Scott: Lead Position.
The race was almost over. One more turn. One straight run back to the finish line.
'Come girl you can do this' Andrian cheered in his mind and he watched her from afar.
Fidelia's heart pounded, but her voice was steady as she called out. "April."
"I'm ready," April replied in her ear.
"Now."
A low hum rippled through the bike — then a violent kick of power burst through her spine. The thrusters ignited, blue flames spitting out from the sides as the bike screamed forward.
"Holy— she's accelerating!" someone shouted.
"What did she just do?!"
"She's closing in! Look at that speed!"