He kicked the thrusters into overdrive, the G-force pinning him against the seat. As he blurred into the first turn, leaving a trail of white-hot exhaust behind him, he had only one thought:
"You're late," a voice rasped from the shadows of the hangar. It was Jax, his old mechanic, leaning against a sleek, matte-black interceptor that looked more like a weapon than a vehicle.
Li ran a hand over the cold metal chassis. He could feel the dormant power vibrating through the frame. He climbed into the cockpit, the interface sync-linking to his neural port with a familiar, sharp sting. The dashboard bled into life, glowing amber. Li 9 - back on that
Li clicked the helmet into place, his vision overlaying with tactical data and heat maps of the Sector 9 tunnels. He gripped the throttle, feeling the engine roar to life, a low-frequency growl that shook the very foundation of the hangar.
The neon hum of the lower city never really leaves your blood. For Li, three years in the quiet "Green Zones" was supposed to be a retirement, a way to wash the grease of the high-stakes tech-racing circuit off his hands. But the quiet was deafening. He kicked the thrusters into overdrive, the G-force
"They thought you went soft, Li," Jax said, handing him a helmet. "They think the new blood owns the strip now."
"Let them think what they want," Li muttered, his eyes narrowing as the blast doors began to cycle open, revealing the shimmering, chaotic lights of the city circuit. Li ran a hand over the cold metal chassis
It started with a single encrypted ping on his old handheld: “The circuit is open. Sector 9. Midnight.”