Rain… late night heavy rain…
As the highways get their natural cleansing, street racers are long gone. Speeding through wet roads is notoriously dangerous, and no one in sane mid wants to bring in a battered car back home. Daikoku gets empties than the normal under such weather, leaving the place with a comforting silence.
With the approach of the day hours, people disperse to prepare theirselves for their side lives. Even the so called “owners of Daikoku”, the 「Tokyo’s Fastest」 team is long gone. Nobody said that being a high profile CEO on some company does allow you to come to work late. Still, a small group of cars is gathered, in a very secluded area of the parking lot, away from curious onlookers. In this group, if there were any old-timers around, they would recognize the four well known machines from an extinct team, whose last breath was taken away by a mischievous scheme that now allows 「Tokyo’s Fastest」 rule the highways with iron fist yet in a reign shadowed by dishonor.
Feroci Racing was here
Back in the day, these guys were the true rulers of the highways, unbeatable ones. Racing against they were a privilege that few had a chance to taste. You couldn’t step up to them and demand a race. The best you would get is a chance trying to chase them down the highway. And even under those circumstances, the outcome was always the same, the view of their taillights fading into the horizon.
Inside a nearby coffee shop, a heated discussion was going on. Served with their cups and snacks, this small group was seemingly debating the last week events, specially a certain race…
“Why you had to smoke him? Now the will be all over you…” one well dressed man asked. Being actually the only one who wasn’t dressing a mechanic overall on the group. “For once I didn’t understand what the hell you were doing here so early to start with…”
“Ah c’mon, it wasn’t like that, if I really raced him, he wouldn’t see me right after the start, besides , I’ve had my reasons, they were getting too cocky and annoying for my likeness…” one of the guys replied, looking to be the center of the discussion of the night. “Also, I don’t know why you guys are so worried about; first, ever since their former leader left they are nowhere near what the real 「Tokyo’s Fastest」 team where. Anyone here could beat their entire team alone. Second, the accident is past, I recovered for it. And third, no one has ever seen the Pi ever since I took care of their leader… I don’t see how this would be a problem now…”
“Heh, you haven’t changed a bit, you are still one mean no brain crazy bastard…” another guy exclaimed, bursting the group into laughs and more jokes, lighting up the mood of them. For the rest of the meeting they kept discussing their cars, setups, something that for anyone from outside would consider it as one of their usual team meets, held at the end of every good race.
But this one wasn’t... For they, this was a farewell meet…
As they left the coffee shop, they gathered around their cars. In silence, one by one, the stickers emblemizing the colors of their team were removed and ripped apart, meaning that for now on, at four hours and twenty seven minutes of a monday morning, Feroci Racing, despise all know data and rumors about it, ceased to exist…
But, would it, truly be the end?
As the highways get their natural cleansing, street racers are long gone. Speeding through wet roads is notoriously dangerous, and no one in sane mid wants to bring in a battered car back home. Daikoku gets empties than the normal under such weather, leaving the place with a comforting silence.
With the approach of the day hours, people disperse to prepare theirselves for their side lives. Even the so called “owners of Daikoku”, the 「Tokyo’s Fastest」 team is long gone. Nobody said that being a high profile CEO on some company does allow you to come to work late. Still, a small group of cars is gathered, in a very secluded area of the parking lot, away from curious onlookers. In this group, if there were any old-timers around, they would recognize the four well known machines from an extinct team, whose last breath was taken away by a mischievous scheme that now allows 「Tokyo’s Fastest」 rule the highways with iron fist yet in a reign shadowed by dishonor.
Feroci Racing was here
Back in the day, these guys were the true rulers of the highways, unbeatable ones. Racing against they were a privilege that few had a chance to taste. You couldn’t step up to them and demand a race. The best you would get is a chance trying to chase them down the highway. And even under those circumstances, the outcome was always the same, the view of their taillights fading into the horizon.
Inside a nearby coffee shop, a heated discussion was going on. Served with their cups and snacks, this small group was seemingly debating the last week events, specially a certain race…
“Why you had to smoke him? Now the will be all over you…” one well dressed man asked. Being actually the only one who wasn’t dressing a mechanic overall on the group. “For once I didn’t understand what the hell you were doing here so early to start with…”
“Ah c’mon, it wasn’t like that, if I really raced him, he wouldn’t see me right after the start, besides , I’ve had my reasons, they were getting too cocky and annoying for my likeness…” one of the guys replied, looking to be the center of the discussion of the night. “Also, I don’t know why you guys are so worried about; first, ever since their former leader left they are nowhere near what the real 「Tokyo’s Fastest」 team where. Anyone here could beat their entire team alone. Second, the accident is past, I recovered for it. And third, no one has ever seen the Pi ever since I took care of their leader… I don’t see how this would be a problem now…”
“Heh, you haven’t changed a bit, you are still one mean no brain crazy bastard…” another guy exclaimed, bursting the group into laughs and more jokes, lighting up the mood of them. For the rest of the meeting they kept discussing their cars, setups, something that for anyone from outside would consider it as one of their usual team meets, held at the end of every good race.
But this one wasn’t... For they, this was a farewell meet…
As they left the coffee shop, they gathered around their cars. In silence, one by one, the stickers emblemizing the colors of their team were removed and ripped apart, meaning that for now on, at four hours and twenty seven minutes of a monday morning, Feroci Racing, despise all know data and rumors about it, ceased to exist…
But, would it, truly be the end?
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