The crowd's roar was deafening, even over the howling engines and the screech of brakes. The finish line loomed ahead, illuminated by the cold, artificial glow of the floodlights that lined the track. The "King of the Dead," Oh, was out front, his bike leaning at a precarious angle as he slid into the final corner. Behind him, a shadow loomed— "The Wolf" Asyut, the kind of rider who didn't just want to win; he wanted to destroy anyone in his way.
Oh knew Asyut was close. He could feel the heat of his rival's engine, the faint vibration of his tires just inches behind. But Oh wasn't fazed. His focus was absolute, his movements fluid as he hugged the inside line with surgical precision. When he hit the straightaway, he opened the throttle, the bike surging forward with a burst of raw power.
The checkered flag waved as Oh crossed the line, the crowd erupting into a cacophony of cheers and boos. He eased off the throttle, coasting to a stop just past the finish, his heart hammering in his chest. Behind him, Seth tore across the line, his bike still wobbling slightly as he rolled to a halt despite years of training. He wasn't number 1 as he truly wanted, but he'd finished, and that was enough.
Moments later, Asyut crossed the finish line, finalizing the top three. His frustration was evident in the way he slammed his bike into a skid.
Oh dismounted, pulling off his light green helmet to reveal a face slick with sweat and dirt. His chest heaved as he caught his breath and pushed back his hair, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The crowd's reaction was mixed; some cheered for The King's victory, others jeered, their loyalties lying with Asyut or some other fallen hero.
Asyut, however, wasn't interested in the crowd. He stalked toward Oh, his helmet still on, his fists clenched. The tension in the air was palpable. "You cut me off on the third lap," Asyut growled, ripping off his helmet and tossing it to the ground. His face was twisted with rage, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap.
Oh met Asyut's glare with calm indifference. "You were too slow to take the corner," he said, his voice even. "That's not my problem."
"Too slow?" Asyut took a step closer, his voice rising. "You think you're untouchable just because you've got a few wins under your belt? You're nothing but a lucky hack." Before Oh could respond, Seth stepped between them, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Hey, back off, Asyut," he said, his voice steady but firm. "He won fair and square. You're just pissed because you couldn't keep up." Asyut's eyes narrowed as he turned his attention to Seth. "Stay out of this, number 2. This doesn't concern you."
"It does when you start throwing a tantrum like a sore loser," Seth shot back. "Everyone saw the race. Oh didn't do anything wrong." Asyut took another step forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over Seth, but the other rider didn't flinch. The crowd had noticed the confrontation, and phones were out, recording every second. Oh finally spoke, his voice cutting through the tension. "That's enough, Asyut. You want to fight? Do it on the track. Otherwise, just walk away." For a moment, it looked like Asyut might swing, his fists trembling at his sides. But then he spat on the ground at Oh's feet, turned, and stormed off toward his crew.
Seth exhaled slowly, the adrenaline draining from his system. He turned to Oh, his expression a mix of concern and disbelief. "Why is he always like that?" Oh smirked, slinging his helmet under one arm. "That's Asyut. He hates losing more than he likes winning."
"You handled that better than I would have," Seth said, shaking his head. "You should be used to it by now, Phi," Oh said. "The race doesn't always end at the finish line."
Seth nodded, glancing toward Asyut's retreating figure. The night wasn't over, and something told him this wasn't the last time they'd face Asyut's fury. But for now, he was content to have made it to the finish, even if his place in the standings was still behind The King.
–☀︎–
The energy in the pit lane was still buzzing even after the race had ended. Crew members bustled around, packing equipment, checking data logs, and inspecting bikes for damage. The smell of oil and burnt rubber hung heavy in the air. Amid the chaos, Seth and Oh rolled their bikes into the team's designated area, their engines rumbling softly before they cut them off.
Standing near the team's RV was Ra, whose presence commanded attention without effort. Ra was a legend in the racing world, a former 20+-year champion turned mogul who had funneled his wealth into the sport he loved. He wasn't just their team owner; he was their mentor, and for Seth and Oh, he had been a father figure ever since they'd joined the circuit.
Ra greeted them with his signature grin, hinting at equal pride and a pending lecture. He wore a tailored leather jacket that cost as much as a mid-tier bike, and a gold chain peeked out from beneath his shirt. "Well, if it isn't my two favorite troublemakers," he called, his voice a deep rumble. "Good work out there tonight, boys."
Oh removed his helmet, gave the older man a quick wai and ran a hand through his damp hair, the tension from the race still clinging to him. "Thanks, sir. Could've been smoother, but we pulled through."
Ra raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Pulled through? You owned that track, kid. You two made Asyut look like an even bigger chump, and I didn't think that was possible."
Seth, standing a few steps behind Oh, hesitated before speaking. "It wasn't very favorable on my end," he admitted. "I was just trying to survive out there."
Ra turned his attention to Seth, his expression softening. "Surviving the circuit at night is no small feat, kid. Don't sell yourself short. Hell, I've seen seasoned riders eat dirt on this track." He clapped Seth on the shoulder, the weight of his hand both comforting and grounding. "Never me, though." Ra grinned playfully. Seth laughed awkwardly as Oh and the pit team sighed and rolled their eyes lightheartedly, unphased by the boss' ego.
One of the senior pit crew members, a mid-build man named Num, approached with a tablet in hand. "Oh, we're pulling your telemetry. That corner on lap three was insane—how the hell did you stick it?"
"Instinct, Phi!" Oh replied, smirking. "And maybe a little luck." Ra laughed, the sound booming over the din of the pit. Num sighed. "Luck, my ass! You've got ice in your veins, kid." Ra tapped the forehead of Oh's helmet, right where a snake head sticker was carefully placed. This was the mark of a champion in the racing world. "Don't get cocky. The next track won't forgive you for the mistakes you didn't make tonight."
Seth glanced at Oh, then back at Ra. "What about me? Any advice other than 'don't die'?" Ra gave him a long, assessing look, stroking his chin as if weighing his words. "Yeah, I've got advice. Stick close to Oh. Watch him, learn from him too, not just me. Remember, this sport's not just about speed—it's about control. Precision. Discipline."
Seth nodded, soaking in every word of the repeated lecture. "And another thing," Ra added, his tone shifting to something more serious. "Don't let Asyut or anyone else get in your head. That guy thrives on intimidation. You? You've got something he doesn't—heart. Let that be your edge."
The head mechanic of The Duat Team, Tah, popped her head out from behind Oh's bike. "This thing's a beast, Khun Ra," she said, wiping grease off her hands. "No wonder Oh is winning. Give Seth one of these, and Asyut won't know what hit him."
Ra chuckled. "Easy there, Tah. The kid's still gotta earn his stripes before I give him the keys to the kingdom."
Oh stepped in, his voice firm but encouraging. "He will, sir. Trust me, P'Seth's got it. He just needs more time." Ra's eyes twinkled with approval as he patted Seth on the back, looking at Oh. "I like hearing that from you. Means I did something right."
The team laughed, the tension from the race melting into the camaraderie of the pit. As the crew worked and joked around them, Seth couldn't shake the nagging sense that he was still on the outside looking in.
'More time?... I've been here for years now… how much longer do I need?' Seth thought to himself. He wasn't just the rookie anymore, but he wasn't quite one of them. The laughter and camaraderie fueled his resolve; if they didn't see him as part of the family now, he'd make sure they would soon enough.
–☀︎–
The sharp hum of fluorescent lights filled the silence in the circuit's locker room, broken only by the occasional water drip from a leaky faucet. Seth sat on a bench, his dark red helmet balanced on his knees, as Oh walked in, still in his white racing leathers. "You looked good out there," Seth said without looking up, his voice steady.
Oh sat on the bench across from him, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "Thanks," he replied, his tone cautious. "It's not every day I get to beat the great Seth 'Chaos' Sutekh."
The older rider smirked, finally meeting Oh's gaze. "You earned it. Every move, every line—you own that track. I've been doing this longer than you, Oh, but even when I started, I wasn't where you are now." Oh blinked, caught off guard. "You're kidding, right? You've won everything there is to win."
"Yeah, but not like you," Seth said, leaning forward. "You've got something I didn't. When I started, I was fast, sure, but I didn't have that instinct you've got, that raw understanding of how to push a bike to its absolute limit without breaking it—or yourself. Even if I started first, you're going to be better."
Oh frowned, unsure how to take the compliment. "You really think that?" Seth nodded. "I know it. And so does Ra. That's why he picked you." The words stirred something in Oh, and for a moment, his mind drifted to the first time he'd met Seth and Ra seven years earlier.
--- The underground circuit differed from the professional tracks Oh would come to know. It was gritty, dangerous, and chaotic, a labyrinth of concrete barriers and narrow streets lit by dim floodlights. The crowd pressed close to the track, shouting bets and insults as the racers lined up at the starting line. Ra and Seth stood at the crowd's edge, their polished appearance out of place in the dingy atmosphere. Ra's sharp eyes scanned the riders, his expression unreadable. Seth, younger and reckless, leaned in close to his mentor. "What are we doing here, Sir?" Seth asked, keeping his voice low. "This place is a circus."
"Finding talent," Ra replied, his gaze fixing on one of the riders—Oh. "That kid on the dark green bike. Watch him."
The race began, a chaotic burst of engines and squealing tires. Seth watched as Oh, then an unknown name in the racing world, carved through the pack like a blade. His movements were precise but wild, and his fearlessness was evident in how he took corners at impossible speeds. By the third lap, he'd left the others in the dust.
When the race ended, Oh pulled off his helmet, his face triumphant but exhausted. Ra nodded to Seth, "That's your new little brother."
"What makes you so sure?" Seth asked, skeptical. Ra smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Because he's got the fire—and I've been doing this long enough to know when I'm looking at the future. Like how I did with you." Ra placed a confident hand on Seth's shoulder and the young man looked up as his mentor stared out onto the track at his soon-to-be new fledgeling. ---
Oh shook off the memory, his expression softening. "I still can't believe you and Ra picked me out of a street race. I thought you were insane."
"Maybe we were," Seth said with a chuckle. "But we were right. Look, I know you think you have something to prove. But tonight, you proved you deserve your 'King of the Dead' title. You're the one they all chase."
Oh looked down at his hands, scarred and calloused from years of racing, and nodded. "Thanks, Seth. That means a lot."
Seth stood, tossing his helmet over his shoulder. "Don't mention it. Just don't get too comfortable with winning. I'm still coming for you next race." He ruffled the younger racer's hair, and Oh laughed, the tension breaking as he stood, too. "You better. I need to keep proving I'm better, don't I?"
Seth smirked as he headed for the door, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed him. "Just keep doing what you're doing. That's more than enough." As he walked away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Oh's talent was undeniable, and while Seth respected it, gnawing jealousy bubbled beneath the surface. He couldn't help but wonder if there'd ever come a day when his skills would feel like they were enough.
–☀︎–
The dull thud of fists hitting leather echoed through the dimly lit apartment. Seth stood shirtless in his small makeshift gym, sweat dripping down his back and arms as he hammered his punching bag. His knuckles, wrapped in tape, stung with every strike, but he didn't stop. The rhythmic pounding filled the room, the only sound besides his ragged breathing.
The walls were bare except for a few championship plaques and framed photos of past races—reminders of victories that now felt like they belonged to someone else. Seth couldn't stop replaying the race in his head: every corner he could have taken tighter, every second lost to hesitation.
"Damn it!" he growled, landing a final punch that sent the bag swinging wildly. He braced it with both hands, leaning against it as he tried to catch his breath. His forehead pressed against the cool leather, and he closed his eyes, frustration eating at him. The rider glanced over at his helmet on the shelf. Noting the outline on the forehead where the snake sticker had once been, emphasized by the years worth of dirt that had accumulated after it was removed when Oh had taken his place as number one.
He'd been at the top for two and a half years after Ra retired. He had become "Chaos". The rider everyone feared. But lately, it felt like he was slipping. Oh was rising faster than he ever had, and deep down, Seth couldn't shake the feeling that his best days were behind him.
The sharp trill of his phone broke the silence. Seth frowned, wiping sweat from his brow as he walked over to where his phone sat on the counter. The screen showed a number he didn't recognize. He debated letting it go to voicemail for a moment, but something about the timing gnawed at him. He swiped to answer.
"Hello?" he said, his voice still laced with irritation. A brief pause was on the other end before a filtered voice spoke.
"Seth Sutekh. Still throwing punches at yourself, I see."
–☀︎–
The next race, Oh was leading the pack as always. First place was his—had been for the past ten laps. The Mehen loomed ahead, its tight, downhill curve infamous for separating champions from the unlucky. But Oh wasn't worried. He knew this track like the back of his hand; every inch of its twists and traps burned into his memory. His bike hummed beneath him, a beast he'd tamed over years of racing, and he leaned into the turn with the confidence of a veteran.
Until the brakes failed.
It started as a strange resistance when he squeezed the lever, then nothing. No response. His heart thudded in his chest, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. He squeezed again—harder, desperate—still nothing.
"Brakes are gone!" Oh shouted into his comms, his voice sharp with panic. "Brakes. Are. Gone!"
In the pit, chaos erupted. Tah, hunched over the monitors, bolted upright. "What did he just say?"
"Brake malfunction," Num muttered, staring in horror at the telemetry on his screen. "They're not engaging at all." Ra froze, his usual calm replaced by a rare flash of fear. "He's going into Mehen. Tell him to dump the bike! Now!"
"Oh!" Tah yelled into the mic, her voice cracking. "Dump it! Lay it down before the turn!" But Oh hesitated. He was at full speed, and dumping the bike here meant skidding into the barriers or—worse—the ravine beyond. He made a split-second decision to try to lean into the turn, trusting his instincts, skill, and sheer will to hold him through.
The Mehen didn't care.
The front wheel buckled as the bike hit the apex of the turn, the force too much without the braking power to balance it. Oh felt the world tilt violently, the screech of metal on asphalt filling his ears. The bike flipped, throwing him like a ragdoll before slamming down on its side and tumbling off the track. "Oh!" Seth's voice crackled through the comms, panic breaking his usual calm. He'd been in third place, close enough to see the crash in agonizing detail. He pushed his bike harder, ignoring his safety as he sped toward the scene.
The crowd fell silent as the cameras caught the aftermath. Oh's bike lay twisted against the barriers, pieces scattered across the track. Oh himself was motionless on the ground, his body crumpled in the gravel just feet from the edge of the ravine.
In the pit, Ra turned pale, his hands gripping the table's edge. "Get the medics out there now!" he barked, his voice booming. He turned to one of the assistant mechanics. "Call an ambulance and Dr. Aset. Let her know what happened."
Tah covered her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Num slammed a fist onto the table. "Damn it! How did this happen?"
Seth was the first rider to pull up near the crash, dropping his bike and running toward Oh. The sight of his teammate lying there, motionless, made his stomach churn. "Oh! Oh, can you hear me?" he shouted, dropping to his knees beside him.
Asyut pulled up next, his usual egotistical bravado gone. He dismounted and stood frozen, watching the scene unfold. "Is he breathing?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. Seth didn't answer. He pressed two fingers to Oh's neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there—weak but steady. Relief mixed with dread as he turned to the approaching medics. Ra arrived at the scene moments later, his face set in grim determination. He crouched beside Seth, his hand resting briefly on the younger man's shoulder. "How bad?"
"Pulse is weak," Seth said, his voice tight. "But he's alive." Ra nodded, his jaw clenched. "We'll take it from here," one of the medics said as they moved in, stabilizing Oh and preparing to transport him.
As the ambulance pulled away, Ra stood, his eyes scanning the wreckage. "That wasn't rider error," he said, his voice low but firm. Seth glanced up, his face hard. "The brakes failed. I heard him over the comms." Ra's expression darkened. "We're going to find out why. And when we do, someone's going to answer for this."
The pit crew began to gather the shattered remains of Oh's bike, their faces etched with shock and guilt, silent tears falling as they all dreaded the worst. Seth stood silently, watching the ambulance disappear into the night.