Gasolina - Klance Mechanic/Racer AU

Part 9

"Keith!" Shiro shouted when he saw me pull up on my bike. "All good?"

"Yeah." I replied, removing my helmet. "I did a quick loop around the block to check; its running smoother than it was before."

"I told you – the kid is a genius."

"I wouldn't say genius..." I muttered, tossing Shiro my helmet. "Is my client here yet?"

"He's waiting inside."

I ducked through the back door and found my client waiting in the chair. Shiro had already prepared my station, so everything was ready to go.

"Hey, man." He said. He looked a little nervous; it was his first tattoo.

"Hey. James, right?" I rifled through my drawers until I found the sketch he'd requested – a futuristic-looking spaceship – and began tracing it onto stencil paper.

"Most people just call me Griffin."

"Right." I mumbled. "First tattoo?"

"Yeah."

"You've got nothing to worry about. It'll be over before you know it."

~

An hour or so later, I'd finished tattooing James'. It was mostly linework, so it hadn't taken too long. We'd gotten to talking, and he actually seemed like a pretty cool guy. He'd even booked in for another tattoo with me before leaving. The rest of the day went by pretty quickly – it was Adam's day off, so I was sat sketching at the reception desk all afternoon – and before I knew it, Shiro and I were getting ready to leave for the night.

"Shiro, have you seen my gloves?" I shouted out of my bedroom door.

"Sock drawer!" He shouted back, appearing from his bedroom half-dressed and flustered. "I can't find my Kevlar shirt."

"Shiro, you've never had an accident. I'm sure you'll be fine without it for one race."

He frowned for a moment, then shook his head, pulling a skin-tight lycra shirt over his bare chest.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." He leant against the doorframe. "Did the Chief tell you who you're up against yet?"

I shook my head. "I have no idea.

"I heard a rumour that you're going against The Wanderer."

"Pfft," I peeled off my t-shirt and replaced it with my protective Kevlar undershirt. "The Wanderer is just a hoax. It's just sore losers using some urban legend to explain why they suck."

"Don't be so sure." He warned me, gathering the rest of his kit together. "I'll wait downstairs."

"Right." I quickly finished getting ready, then checked my phone once before setting out. I didn't know what I was checking for, but I was a little disappointed when I saw I had no texts.

~

Music blared from an open car when we skidded to a halt. Once a month, a society of thugs, hooligans, and genuine badasses gathered in the empty base of the old canal for Race Night. 'Chief' – the big boss of the society – organised street and drag races. The winners earned bragging rights, and everyone else bet on who they thought would win. Some of us were like family, but others were purely in it for the fame – or infamy.

I noticed the black land rover with tinted windows parked a little away from everyone else – the Chief. Something about not knowing who they really were made me feel uneasy.

"White Stripe and Leo!" Acxa hollered, approaching us with her posse. She was kitted out head to toe in racing gear, and her two companions were covered in dark makeup and leather.

"Shadow! Good to see you!" Shiro laughed. "I see you're racing tonight?"

"You know it." She looked over to where a group of the more dangerous racers stood. "The Prodigy's posse is here, too."

"Shit, really?" Shiro grimaced. "Last time Prodigy raced, Lone Wolf ended up- Sorry."

Acxa frowned. Lone Wolf was one of her closest friends, and a tragic 'accident' during her race with Prodigy – which some claimed wasn't really an accident at all – had left her hospitalised. A few days later, she died from internal bleeding.

"I hope he's racing me." She growled. "I'll get revenge for Narti."

I looked around. There were a lot more people than usual, though it was probably due to the rumours Shiro had heard about The Wanderer. Everyone wanted to know if they were real or not. A mysterious racer who showed up to race nights, won their race, then never returned. Allegedly they were one of the strongest competitors in the country, but didn't do it for the fame or money. I didn't believe a word of it. Some people had far too much imagination.

I was shocked out of my thoughts by a honk from the Chief, signalling for the first race to start. Princess – Chief's messenger and our resident starter – climbed down from the back seat with a flashcard in her hands. She had stunning white hair that fell in ringlets to her hips, and wore a leather jacket over denim shorts and a black bralette, with a black surgical mask and dark shades on her face. Like the Chief, and many people in the society, she didn't show her face.

She walked over to the starting line in her impractically high heels and looked at the card.

"Tonight's City Race will be Shadow versus The Prodigy." She called out. Acxa tensed up beside me – the City Race was the main attraction, and the most dangerous of all the races. They had to get from one end of the city to the other without being caught. First to the Hotel Galra was the winner.

"See you on the other side." Acxa breathed, taking her helmet from Ezor and moving to the starting line.

There were hushed murmurs as The Prodigy – a tall, slender man with platinum-blonde hair and a gorgeous face – joined her at the starting line. There was something unnerving about him, something dark. I could never quite put my finger on it, but I knew he was dangerous. I was glad Acxa finally had a chance to avenge Narti, but I was worried for her. Prodigy was trouble.

With a flick of Princess' hand, they were off, the sound of their engines fading into the night. We wouldn't know who won for a while, so Princess checked the next race on the list.

"First up on the Canal Circuit, we have Leo versus Kitten."

I laughed to myself. Kitten was an relatively new racer, and certainly not a danger to anyone. Of course The Wanderer wasn't here – they weren't real, after all.

I pulled my helmet back on and got myself ready at the starting line. Once everyone had cleared out of the way, Princess raised her hand into the air. I braced myself, getting ready to start. This was it, this was everything I lived for. The thrill of speeding through the night air, the spur of friendly competition. I lived for it, and I knew one day I would die for it.

Princess looked to her left; I followed. Coming down into the canal was a broad-shouldered, dark-haired figure wearing a black surgical mask and a baseball cap. Even in the dark, he was unmistakable to me. Princess' hand fell, and I didn't move. For just a fraction of a second, I hesitated – because the person coming into the Canal was the person I'd been fantasizing about for days.

I sped away, leaving him in my dust. I'd deal with Lance later, for now, I had to win this race.