The Phantom Unit was cold beneath Marcel's gloves. But his blood ran hotter than ever.
He stood on the edge of the Cathedral's descent ramp—staring at the yawning chasm that led back up to the city. Back to the surface. Back to the war.
Ayaka paced near the edge, watching him load the drive chip from Adrian's data core into Ravyn's slot.
"You're sure about this?""No," Marcel said. "But I'm sure I'm not staying quiet."
He climbed into his Skyline—not the Phantom. That car was a blade made for cutting time.This was a war car.His war car.
Ravyn booted.
"Tracking Syndicate presence. Multiple signals. They're watching Terminal Square."
Marcel lit a cigarette he didn't intend to finish.
"Let's make them blink first."
The Surface – Terminal Square
The city didn't sleep, but tonight it held its breath.
Thousands gathered under fake stars and flickering holo-ads, watching as racers prepared for a Syndicate-run drift exhibition—one meant to remind the public who controlled the roads.
Phoenix stood at the center.Cold. Commanding. Watching.
"He'll come," she said.
Someone beside her asked, "And if he does?"
Phoenix smiled.
"We'll make him regret remembering."
Then the tremor hit.
A roar shook the square.
Neon lights flickered. Holos warped.
And from the south gate—Marcel's Skyline tore into the scene like a missile, rear wheels already sideways, tires screaming defiance.
Gasps. Screams.Camera drones scrambled.And the drift began before the announcement.
RAVYN: "Syndicate jamming active. Visibility compromised. You want a clean race or chaos?"
"Give me smoke."
Ravyn overloaded the exhaust dampeners. The Skyline dumped walls of smoke behind it—blinding, blooming like thunderclouds with LED burn.
Marcel wasn't here to win.He was here to expose.
The chip uploaded.
Screens across the square began to glitch.
And then…
"PROJECT RIFTLINE – EXPERIMENTAL DRIVER TERMINATION""SUBJECT: ADRIAN VEGA – COMPROMISED""EXECUTION: AUTHORIZED BY [REDACTED]"
The crowd gasped.
The Syndicate's lie—shattered in public view.
Phoenix's eyes narrowed.
"Now… you've done it."
She waved once.
A car launched from the upper level.
Black. Spiked. Pulse-driven.A Syndicate-built weapon.
Its pilot?A driver with no name.No face.
Only a tag: ERROR-0.1
Ravyn warned:
"That's not a racer. That's a hunter."
Marcel shifted gears.
"Let's hunt back."