All the vehicles stopped. Engines died. Lights dimmed. Silence dropped like a hammer in the middle of the Mexican desert.
Ro-ro slammed his fist on the dashboard. "Fuck! We were at 400,901!"
MeMe blinked, brushing her long blue hair behind her ear. "Hey... it's alright, Ro-ro. We'll hit higher next time."
Ro-ro groaned and leaned back, arms over his head. "I hope you're right, MeMe. But why the hell did all our cars just stop?"
A boom echoed from above.
An airship descended, massive and matte black, silent until its landing gears hissed against the cracked sand. A hatch opened with a mechanical shriek. Smoke billowed out, lit by a blinding floodlight that bathed the desert in silver.
The dust parted.
Out walked Mr. White.
Impeccably dressed in a pale ivory suit, silk gloves, and polished shoes that somehow remained spotless on the sand. His smile was soft. Calculated. Empty of warmth.
Behind him, cyber-police soldiers marched out—slim, armored, faceless. One of them was a giant: a cyborg twice the size of the others, red lights pulsing across his spine.
"Welcome, my dear racers," Mr. White said smoothly, his voice barely raised. "You've made it to Checkpoint One. Congratulations."
No applause. Just the desert wind.
Mr. White continued, "Now... the next checkpoint is a long one. You'll be racing to Mirai City, just east of what remains of New York."
A voice cracked the silence.
Jose Brown had stepped out of his battered ride, arms crossed, eyes burning. "Mirai City? You insane, White? That's across the goddamn continent."
Mr. White chuckled softly. "Look, Jose. The viewers crave scale. They want pain. And they're already growing bored of Earth. They want a new planet. New deaths."
Jose spat into the sand. "Rich piece of trash."
Mr. White turned to him slowly. "By the way, Mr. Jose... I'd like a word."
Jose narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
"Just a moment."
Ro-ro watched the exchange and yawned. "I need a nap. A soft-ass pillow. A glass of water at exactly 3 a.m. A dry throat. And some good ol' YouTube. Maybe a little Cory Kenshin."
He glanced at MeMe. "You good?"
MeMe didn't answer at first. Her glowing eyes were locked on Mr. White.
"He creeps you out?" Ro-ro guessed. "Mr. White?"
"It's not that," she whispered. "It's… something in him. Feels wrong."
Ro-ro scoffed. "He's rich, MeMe. What were you expecting? A saint? He ain't gonna donate lungs or cure cancer. Rich people don't do that."
She didn't reply. Just stared.
Meanwhile Jose walked toward Mr. White, cautious, but not afraid.
"You didn't call me over to praise me," Jose said flatly. "What do you want?"
Mr. White smiled. "I bet on you to make top ten, despite that flat tire. I wasn't disappointed."
"Mmhm. And that's flattering, sure. But you're not handing out compliments without a string. So go on. Pull it."
Mr. White gave a soft chuckle. "You're right. I have a job for you."
"Where's the money? I don't do shit for free. Just letting you know."
"This… is worth more than money. It could save your life."
He snapped his fingers. The cybernetic giant stepped forward, handing Mr. White a black box. Inside were small metallic pills.
Jose's eyes narrowed. "Wait. Those are—"
"Coronaca pills." Mr. White nodded. "Extremely illegal. In most places.Dangerous. Highly addictive. But used right…"
Jose stepped back. "No fucking way. I'm not turning into a Hyperacto. You out of your damn mind?"
Mr. White shook his head gently. "No. These are engineered. Thirty seconds of transformation. Controlled. You retain your mind, your soul, your humanity. Temporary cyber-god mode. You'll be faster than anyone. Invincible."
"And when it runs out?"
"You'll survive. That's more than I can promise most."
Jose looked down at the box. Then back up. "This ain't free. And I'm broke."
"I'll give them to you anyway," Mr. White said, tone light, almost amused. "If you accept a small job for me."
"What kind of job?"
Mr. White leaned in. Whispered a single sentence in Jose's ear.
Jose blinked. Then... laughed. Loud, sharp, almost manic. "Hahahaha... that's it? That's like asking me to go hunt down a kid with Down syndrome. You're twisted."
Mr. White tilted his head. "Not kill. Just... bring him to me. If you can."
Mr. White turned back to the crowd. "See you all next time. Go to sleep. Wake up at 6:30. Peace."
The cyber-police turned. The blimp ascended silently, vanishing into the clouds.
As Jose walked back toward his car, Sky intercepted him.
"What's in the box, Jose? What exactly did he give you?"
Jose paused, smirked, and simply said, "Insurance."
He walked past her, the desert wind curling around his coat, eyes fixed on the sky.
The next morning, MeMe stirred awake, the soft rumble of the engine beneath her feet and the desert wind whistling through the vents. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the light bleeding in through the windows of the cockpit.
Ro-ro glanced over, one hand on the wheel, the other lazily resting on the armrest. “Oh, you’re finally up, sleepy head,” he said with a smirk, his voice rough like gravel but laced with a hint of warmth.
MeMe yawned, stretching her arms over her head. “Sorry, Ro-ro. I was just so tired. Everything from yesterday… it hit me all at once.”
Ro-ro waved it off. “It’s fine. Right now it’s…” He squinted at the dashboard. “6:38. And we’re in…”
He paused. “Ai, what place are we in?”
The vehicle’s A.I. chimed in. “You are currently in 100th place. Correction—96th. Now 97th. Now 95th.”
Ro-ro raised an eyebrow. “Okay, okay, damn.” He leaned back and cracked his neck. “Anyway, MeMe, I’ve been thinking. I’m going after the big people. Jose. Sky. Kai. Fridde.”
MeMe blinked. “Wait… seriously?”
“Yeah,” Ro-ro said, confident. “I asked Ai about ‘em. Their stats, their driving style, past race records—I’ve seen what they did. And honestly? They seem weak to me. Hahahaha. I think we could beat them.”
“Ro-ro…” MeMe looked at him, her expression soft but serious. “You can’t beat Kai. Or Sky. Or Jose. Not even Fridde.”
He frowned. “What?”
“I haven’t told you this before,” she continued quietly, “but… I can feel emotions. Sense them. It’s not something I use often, but when I did—when I looked at them—”
She paused, her voice lowering.
“I felt it. Their determination.”
Ro-ro’s grip on the wheel tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.
“It’s deeper than just survival. It’s purpose.”
She turned toward him. “You said you wanted to win so you can bring back that kid’s dad—the one you killed. But… I don’t think that’s enough.”
Ro-ro’s jaw twitched. “Careful, MeMe.”
“I’m not saying this to hurt you. Or to make you feel weak,” she said quickly. “I’m saying it because if you’re going to win, you need more. More reason. More fire. More truth.”
“They’re not stronger than you,” she added. “But they believe in their reason harder than you believe in yours.”
Ro-ro kept his eyes on the road, his voice low and edged. “So what—you’re saying they have more determination than me? That’s bullshit.”
He scoffed. “You’re saying if I fought some nerd with ‘all his determination,’ he’d beat me? Hell no. That’s fairy tale logic.”
“This isn’t a fight, Ro-ro. It’s a race. About strategy. About what you’re willing to endure.”
Ro-ro blinked, then side-eyed her. “When the hell did you get so smart?”
MeMe smiled. “I’m naive, not dumb.”
He gave a small, grudging laugh. “Tch. Fine, smart girl. You saying you can beat them?”
MeMe looked down. “No. Not even I could.”
“Whatever,” Ro-ro said, brushing it off. “I’m still going after them.”
“Ro-ro,” MeMe said suddenly, her voice sharper than usual. “Get away from the other racers.”
“Huh?”
“Please. Just get me away from the other racers.”
Ro-ro grumbled under his breath but veered off the main line, steering them out of the clustered ranks. The open desert wind hit them again, quieting the world.
“Stop,” MeMe said.
Ro-ro glanced at her. “You serious? We’ll drop out of the top 100.”
“I said stop.”
Ro-ro stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “Are you insane?”
She opened the door without another word.
“Okay, okay!” Ro-ro hissed, slamming the brakes. The vehicle hissed as it came to a halt.
MeMe stepped out, the wind tugging at her long blue hair. “Ro-ro, I want you to try to beat at least one of them.”
Ro-ro blinked. “Wait—what did you just say? You’re asking me to go after them?”
MeMe nodded. “Yes. I want you to fight for real. But not because you think they’re weak. I want you to grow. To learn. To get humbled. To find out who you really are. Like how you helped me find who I was.”
Ro-ro stared at her, jaw clenched. “Wow. That’s how you feel, huh? Even after everything I’ve done?”
“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” MeMe replied gently. “I’m saying this because I care. I want you to win, Ro-ro. But I want you to deserve it, too.”
He looked away, then gave a low laugh. “Heh… That actually makes sense.”
He climbed back into the seat, gripping the wheel tight.
“But if I do beat them,” he said, eyes glinting with fire, “you can’t question my method. You’ll listen to me from now on. No interruptions. No ‘but Ro-ro.’ Deal?”
MeMe gave him a small smile. “Deal.”
Ro-ro smirked. “Then watch me.”
He slammed the accelerator, the engine roaring back to life as he tore across the sand, flames bursting from the exhaust. MeMe stood there alone, dust curling around her boots as she watched the trail he left behind.
“I hope you’ll learn, Ro-ro,” she whispered, placing a hand over her heart, “for the better.”