The coin flip had not gone in their favor.

More than 24 hours after the meal, Damien’s gut had yet to stop gurgling. This last wave of upset stomach was the fifth of the day, and although he’d emptied his guts out, the after effects continued to linger.

All of this punishment just to entertain Marcus’ enthusiasm…, he groaned internally.

In truth, the food had tasted fine enough for the most part. The main dish, a savory beef stir fry, had even exceeded Damien’s expectations. The culprit must’ve been a specific side dish that was on the experimental side. The big pirate had called this particular one the Marcus Special, version 4.5. He’d shown great pride in the odd creation, and he claimed to have finally perfected his new signature dish.

Even after eating it, Damien couldn’t identify the strange food. It hadn’t tasted bad, just weird. Marcus later revealed that the secret ingredient was attitude. Of course it was. And of course Marcus claimed to eat it often. How that guy‘s stomach worked, Damien would never know. But the sentiment had been nice, so he and Kat still graciously went through with it.

Never again, Damien promised himself. Screw camaraderie.

After spending almost an hour of the morning on the toilet, he’d decided to do some research on Horaka, the CEO of TrillTech, and the person likely to be responsible for Damien’s missing memories. Unfortunately, it turned out that Horaka had a reputation for being an enigmatic businessman, and there was virtually no information to be found about the mysterious CEO. The little nuggets of data that Damien had obtained were vague and hardly worth the trouble it took to dig them up.

Within those nuggets was a brief summary of Horaka’s professional life, all told from a distance. He’d been in the military as a young man, then joined an arms production company upon completing five years of service. After rising through the ranks and holding multiple reputable positions, he went off on his own and started TrillTech, growing it to become the sizable company it currently was. Yet while others in similar positions of power loved the spotlight, Horaka seemed abstain from being out in public. Naturally, this pissed Damien off even more.

Frustrated with being stuck in the dark yet again — a recurring theme after first being rescued by Kat — he’d decided to spend the late afternoon taking part in his new favorite activity: aimlessly riding through the city. He rode with no destination in mind, simply taking it all in and cruising around wherever his whims took him. Hours passed, and the sun fell, setting the stage for the city to truly wake up.

Neopolis was especially beautiful at night when it was strangely more alive than during the day. A part of Damien wanted to explore every nook and cranny, so he’d ventured through the radiant blues and reds of the lush city center as well as the grimy and toxic greens and browns of the broken back alleys. The disparity of what could be seen was astounding, and he loved letting himself get lost in the maze of lights. The city had a way of making one feel small in its presence.

One of the side perks of his idle exploration was the looks his motorcycle brought him, mostly admiration from men and flirty glances from women. It was certainly a nice ride, but he hadn’t expected to receive so much attention from it.

With his exploratory itch being scratched and Kat being busy for the next few days, Damien decided to spend the late evening checking out the racing league with Marcus. He’d received detailed information as well as a formal request to participate from Bruce, the man who’d procured his bike in the first place.

He wanted to see this racing league in person after hearing so much about it. The entire system was broken down into divisions, and races were held between racers of the same division among one of multiple vehicle classes. Racers within the league could move between division by getting promoted and demoted depending on their performance. The ones at the top of the league were pretty much celebrities in the city. Of course, that had tempted Damien even more. It was just one more way he could make a name for himself.

The meeting spot for the racing league changed all the time, and tonight’s races would take place on the east side of the city. As Damien neared the designated location, he immediately felt the electric atmosphere, even at the outskirts of the gathering.

There was a sea of people present which caught him off guard. In his mind, he’d pictured a small, discreet group scheming on how to organize a street race, but this was the complete opposite. It was a large social event.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

He strolled slowly through the crowds on his bike, taking in the atmosphere. On closer examination it became clear that this wasn’t just about racing, it was also partly a car show. Music blasted from multiple sources in every direction as people gathered around the interesting modified cars on display. One particular car used its headlights to create a small holographic display of a nude woman on the ground. That got a lot of rowdy cheers and applause.

The mood was bright, with infectious laughter and fun in the air. That was all good and well, but how was he gonna find Marcus in a place like this?

“Yo,” a familiar voice called out.

Damien turned toward the source and saw Marcus emerge from the crowd as if on cue, a look of excited anticipation on his face. Bruce strolled up beside him.

“Welcome to the pre-show,” Marcus said, his arms outstretched. “So, whaddya think?”

“Wasn’t expecting it to be such a spectacle. With street racing being illegal, I thought this would be kept more on the down low.” Damien said.

Bruce chuckled. “NPD goes surprisingly easy on street racers. Right now it’s just a social gathering. Everyone’s letting loose and having fun before the real show begins. We’re scheduled for three races tonight. Should be a good time.”

“Hopefully we get through all three before the cops shut it down,” Marcus said.

“Eh, most nights we manage to get em all in.” Bruce shrugged casually. “Depends on how reckless people get. If they go too wild it’ll invite pressure from the NPD.”

“Well, Dame. You should know that my racing days are behind me. Dominated too hard. First race of the night is a C-division bike race. That means that it’s bottom of the barrel so its open to newcomers. You gonna take part?” Marcus asked.

Damien looked around at the crowd. “Seeing as its my first time, I was thinking of sitting out and watching so I could get a feel for all this. Plus I still have some hesitation about my skill level.”

“Ah, don’t be hesitant, friend,” Bruce said dismissively. “Ye’ll do fine if ye take part. As an extra incentive, y’should know that some of the people in these circles have access to unique vehicle gear, and that includes bikes. I’m talking real underground stuff. If ye impress them, y’might get access to some rare upgrades.”

That was music to Damien’s ears. “Interesting…” That might’ve just been enough incentive to join in on the fun.

The sounds of a nearby commotion halted their conversation.

“Watch yourself, punk!” one man yelled out.

“S-sorry,” another, more youthful voice called out. “I didn’t see-”

“I don’t give a fuck what you didn’t see. And you, what the fuck are you looking at?”

“What’s going on over there?” Bruce said, cranking his neck around the bystanders to get a better look.

“Damn right,” the aggressor called out again. “Now step aside.”

A few bystanders moved, revealing the source of the conflict.

“Fuckin’ aye,” Marcus said, almost in disbelief. “That fuck face is still around?”

Bruce nodded. “I should’ve known it was him. But he’s gotten better since you left. A lot better. He reached A-division but got relegated to C-division after repeatedly failing to show up to any of his races.”

Damien eyed the aggressor of the conflict. The man had a pointed face highlighted by blond hair. Even now, as people stepped aside, he postured in an intimidating manner to some of the bystanders. “Who is that?”

“A punk who goes by the name of Clutch. He was something like my rival,” Marcus said.

“Seems like an asshole,” Damien said.

Marcus chuckled. “That’s ‘cause he is. I loved smoking him in these races.”

“He’s a hot head, but he’s got skills with a variety of vehicles,” Bruce said. “Focuses mostly on bikes these days. If he could reign in his short temper, he could be a top-rated racer.”

Damien watched as Clutch eyed the crowd aggressively, looking for someone to confront. The jerk’s eyes almost popped out of his head when he spotted Marcus, and he quickly stomped toward the trio.

“Where the hell’ve you been, pussy?” Clutch called out to Marcus. “Got a few lucky wins over me and never showed up again, huh? I owe you some payback.”

Marcus smiled back confidently. “Ah, haven’t heard that dog bark in a while. I retired at the top. Got nothing left to prove.”

“Bullshit! You ran away ‘cause you knew you were falling off. If you don’t wanna settle it on the road, we could settle it right here.”

Clultch’s attempts to intimidate Marcus were laughable at best. In terms of physical size, it was a gigantic mismatch, and Marcus looked like he could swat Clutch away with minimal effort.

“We both know you wouldn’t do shit,” Marcus said. “And last I checked, you dropped weight classes. You don’t race big vehicles anymore.”

Clutch snorted. “Still keeping tabs, huh?” His gaze finally left Marcus and floated to Damien. “Who’s the fuck is this? Your mistress? And that’s his bike? Cute toy.” He stepped forward, as if to try another attempt at intimidation.

Damien glared back coldly. He could see through the false bravado from a million miles away.

“He’s a new kid on the block,” Marcus said before turning to Damien. “What do you say, Ghost? This dog still barks too much. Wanna take my place as his master?”

Clutch snorted again. “Yeah, right. I can tell this pussy can’t ride for shit. If he had half a ball, he’d face me in this next race, but I doubt that’ll happen. Pussies stick together after all.” He walked past Damien, nudging him on the shoulder as he passed.

Damien had been on the fence before, but that was the final straw. The decision was clear, and he turned to Marcus and Bruce. “Where do I sign up?”