Chapter 23 (Part 2)

"Indeed," I smirk, contemplating the prospects of the forthcoming events, "nothing too complicated. And what's the prize?" I ask the question that concerns me the most.

"Fifty thousand for first place. The entry fee is five grand per vehicle."

"We're in. Send me the account details," I activate my bracelet and wait for my interlocutor to send the payment information.

"Interesting gadget you have on your wrist," Sagan remarked, intrigued by the unusual tech device on my arm.

"My parents were Buddhists, and I share some of their beliefs," I smirk, recalling the story I fabricated a few years ago. "But due to certain aspects of local progress, I had to come up with a reasonable alternative."

"I see," the man drawled, shaking his head in amazement. "Well, everyone has their quirks. We'll be starting soon, so you should take your place in the lineup. Oh, almost forgot," Bob clapped his hands together, handing me a chip, "this is the map for the upcoming race. Deviating from the route will result in automatic disqualification."

"Understood, thanks for the info," I take the chip and sit back in the car, connecting it to a special mini-computer. The scan reveals nothing suspicious, so I insert the chip into the visor slot. "Ready for a ride?" I ask my partner with a smile, handing her the chip.

"Mm-hmm," Kiwi nods, taking the chip and momentarily zoning out as she studies the route ahead.

"Vega, can you be our onboard AI?" I activate the cyberdeck to connect my assistant to our network.

"I don't mind," the AI's voice responds from the stereo speakers.

"I'm done," Kiwi replies after a while, turning off the visor projection in front of her eyes.

"Guess I should prepare a bit too. We can shoot, but not overdo it, right?" I pick up the pistol lying on the back seat, inspecting it thoughtfully. I recently tinkered in the workshop with large-caliber revolvers and came up with the idea for this type of gun. The design turned out aesthetically pleasing, but that was far from its main feature. The pistol used a specially crafted round capable of piercing first-class tank armor. When hitting a body, it could literally tear chunks out of a person. It might seem excessive for personal defense, but I've deeply embraced the local philosophy and no longer suffer from overwhelming humanism.

I had learned enough lessons from my time living with the nomadic clan. It was a constant struggle for resources, where even you yourself became a resource.

"Want to try out your new pistol?" Kiwi asked, glancing at my maneuvers with the weapon.

"Yeah, I want to test 'The Wingman' in the field, so to speak. I was going to do it after lunch, but circumstances have changed a bit." I fully reload the chamber and check my remaining ammunition. Frankly, it wasn't much. Just nine magazines with nine rounds each, including the one already loaded. Not a lot for a firefight, but it should suffice.

"Got it," the blonde nodded, continuing to stare out the window with a bored expression.

Incoming message - Bob Sagan

"Start in one minute. Get ready."

"Nervous?" I noticed Kiwi tapping her index finger on the steering wheel.

"A bit," the blonde admitted, taking a deep breath. "Okay, now I'm ready." The breathing exercise seemed to calm her down and help her gather her thoughts. At least, her serene face strongly suggested so.

While we waited for the start, I glanced at our track one more time. We start at the Tama Dam, then head to the switchback and take it. After reaching the fork near the solar power plant, we turn left and drive straight towards the Tango Tors Motel. Before reaching it, we keep going straight until we reach Jackson's Plain, where we then make a left turn. We drive to the abandoned local airport and turn again, heading onto the runway. From there, we go straight and finally turn left towards the Tango Tors Motel. Upon reaching the motel, we descend into the canyon and continue the race off-road until we climb to the farming cooperatives near the flooded town of Laguna Bend. Once back on the track, we return to the Tama Dam, where the finish line is located. In short, it's a massive circular race spanning several dozen kilometers.

"Let everyone go ahead at the start; let them push each other around. We'll catch up. No need to draw too much attention to ourselves," I place my hand on my partner's leg, getting her attention.

"I was thinking the same," Kiwi agreed, gently toying with the gas pedal. "I'm connecting to the visor." The screen on her glasses lit up again, isolating her from me.

"Races in the style of Mad Max. Never thought I'd personally agree to something like this," I smiled, spinning the pistol in my hand and catching Bob's eye from where he stood nearby. The man saluted me, wishing me luck.

***

As soon as the command "start" was given, Kiwi smoothly pulled away, not in a hurry to gain speed. The other drivers did exactly as I predicted. They floored the gas pedal, trying to gain an immediate advantage. Due to the chaos, one car was pushed off the road straight into the nearest bus stop. The impact was strong enough, but I hope the driver had a good airbag. There were twenty participants in the race, and the prizes were divided among the top three drivers. First place received 50,000, second place 20,000, and third place 10,000.

I had heard about these races for a long time, but I never had the desire to participate. Kiwi, on the other hand, was a thrill-seeker and had a special fondness for fast driving. On the road, she transformed into quite the daredevil, and it was honestly a pleasure to watch her. Such changes in a person make you see them in a different light, adding a bit of mystery.

While watching Kiwi's face, I almost didn't notice the loose wheel hurtling towards us. Dodging it, I finally managed to focus on the road. There was no point in shooting at anyone and wasting ammunition right now. We were trailing at the back, about 150-200 meters behind the others. This distance was enough not to fall too far behind but also close enough to catch up with the main group if needed. There were three groups in total. The first had pulled ahead by about 400 meters and consisted of four cars. The second was a hundred meters closer and had three cars. The third, which we were trailing behind, consisted of the remaining vehicles. There were seventeen cars left on the track, and the race had only just begun.

Reaching the switchback, Kiwi sharply took the turn, colliding with one of the racers. The driver couldn't brake in time and hit the guardrail, knocking him out of the race. Glancing at the rearview mirror, I saw the man stepping out of his car, glaring at us and flipping us off.

"Sorry, buddy, but it's every man for himself."

As we trailed behind another straggler, a Gecko-modified Torton, the front passenger decided to play dirty. The girl pulled out an assault rifle and began shooting at the vehicle ahead. She was clearly experienced in shooting from such a position, judging by her infrequent but accurate hits. Within seconds, she managed to damage one of the rear tires of the car ahead, eliminating another competitor. On one hand, it was amusing to see that such drivers didn't bother reinforcing the most vulnerable part of the car. After all, these races were well-known, and everyone knew the risks.

"Kiwi, don't overtake the Gecko driver. After the switchback, I'll take her out," I said to the girl over the internal comms.

"Understood."

After navigating one of the toughest parts of the track, we finally reached relatively smooth terrain where many drivers began to pick up speed. My driver also accelerated, closing the distance between us.

"Vega, can you help me with the ballistic calculations?" I leaned out of the window, aiming at the nearest opponent's car.

"I'm connecting... Displaying the dynamic shooting interface on your visor screen," Vega, my synthetic assistant, quickly calculated the ballistics and marked the necessary shooting trajectory on the screen with a pop-up marker. All I had to do was align the sight with it and pull the trigger, which I promptly did.

"Thanks, Vega," I watched as the nomads' car, losing a wheel, veered off the road and flipped a couple of times before coming to a halt. The passengers were unharmed since I was well aware of the Gecko's design. Confirming my thoughts, the pair quickly crawled out from under the car, aiming their weapons at us. However, since we were too far away, the girl stomped her foot in frustration and tossed the rifle aside.

"Gratitude acknowledged," Vega's familiar response made me smirk.

With six cars out of the race, there were fourteen left, including ours. We had already covered a quarter of the track, but the remaining route was mostly highway, except for a few segments I was counting on. Kiwi had begun to catch up to the two stragglers ahead of us. These crews weren't trying to harm each other, which didn't align with my plans.

Leaning out the window again, I quickly ducked back in, noticing the two shooters glaring at me. Smirking, I extended just my arm, activating the small segmented shield. At this speed, no one would notice the faint bluish shimmer, allowing me to shoot at the obstructing cars freely.

"Vega, switch me to the pistol's sight."

"Done," she responded briefly, switching my vision to the sight of The Wingman.

Shooting from this position was quite challenging. The wind battering my arm made it difficult to aim steadily, and after three consecutive misses, I decided to activate acceleration mode. The world slowed down, and at that moment, I finally took my first accurate shots. The bullets, seen in slow motion, flew out of the pistol barrel and towards the cars. Satisfied, I watched as they hit their targets. The right car lost control and swerved sharply, taking its companion with it.

"Eleven left," I smiled with satisfaction, quickly pulling my arm back inside the cabin. "No, make that ten," Kiwi suddenly braked, allowing a flipping car, hit by something high-caliber, to pass over us.

"Alex, do you see that Javelina?" Vega highlighted the car on my visor.

"Yes, I see it clearly."

"Can you shoot it if I accelerate to three hundred?"

"No problem, but you'll need to get parallel to it."

"Get ready," Kiwi accelerated sharply, pinning me to the car seat. The speedometer quickly approached the "300" mark, and before I knew it, we were almost alongside another racer.