Ma's home exuded an air of quiet luxury, the soft glow of ambient lighting reflecting off sleek, modern furniture. The faint scent of jasmine hung in the air, mingling with the aroma of the wine in Ma's glass. She sat curled up on a plush velvet sofa, her legs tucked beneath her, her usually sharp features softened in this rare moment of relaxation.
Keh stood nearby, their tall frame leaning against the doorframe, eyes never straying far from her. They'd long perfected the art of silent observation, their presence both watchful and grounding.
"I've been thinking," Ma began, her voice calm. "Whoever orchestrated Oh's accident wasn't just after a win. It was precise. Deliberate. There's more at stake here than just a race."
Keh stepped forward, moving with quiet purpose. "It wasn't random," they agreed, their voice low but firm. "Whoever did this had resources and a bigger plan. This was about control."
Ma sighed, setting her glass on the coffee table as she leaned back against the cushions. "Asyut is an easy suspect, but he's too messy for something like this. Whoever's behind this is playing a smarter game." Keh approached the couch, their sharp gaze softening as they studied her. "Someone higher up, then. Someone who knows how to make moves without leaving a trail."
Ma tilted her head slightly, glancing at Keh. After a moment of silence, she patted the cushion beside her. "Come sit," she said softly. Keh hesitated only briefly before taking the seat next to her. The space between them was minimal, their presence warm and steady.
"You think I'm putting too much trust in The Hawk, don't you?" Ma asked, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I think The Hawk is resourceful," Keh replied evenly. "But trusting someone who hides their face is always a risk." Ma smirked faintly, her gaze turning thoughtful. "I trust results. And so far, he's delivering. If he keeps digging, he might uncover whoever's behind this."
"And if he doesn't?" Keh asked. "Then we keep digging ourselves," Ma said, her tone sharpening.
The conversation lulled for a moment, the weight of their mission settling over them. Keh leaned forward slightly, resting their forearms on their knees, their voice softening. "You've been carrying this alone for too long, Ma. You don't have to." Ma looked at them, her dark eyes searching theirs. "Are you offering to share the burden?"
"I'm offering to take as much as you'll let me," Keh replied, their voice steady.
Ma hesitated, her composure cracking just slightly before she let out a soft sigh. Slowly, she leaned closer, resting her head gently on Keh's shoulder. The gesture was quiet but intimate, a rare moment of vulnerability that Keh never took for granted.
Keh didn't hesitate. They shifted slightly, wrapping their arm around her shoulders protectively, their grip firm but comforting. "You don't have to do this alone," Keh murmured, their voice barely above a whisper.
Ma closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to relax into the warmth of their presence. "You've always been here," she said softly. "Even when you didn't have to be."
"I'm here because I want to be," Keh replied. "And I'll stay as long as you'll let me." Ma let out a quiet laugh, her voice lighter now. "Most people think you're just my bodyguard."
"Let them think what they want," Keh said with a faint smile. "We know what we are."
For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift, the warmth between them filling the quiet room. "We'll figure this out," Keh said, their tone turning serious again. "Whoever did this won't stay hidden for long. And when the time comes, we'll deal with them. Together." Ma nodded, her voice softer now. "For Oh. And for everything they've taken from us."
The room fell into a comfortable silence, Ma leaning into Keh's steady presence as their arm remained protectively around her. For now, they allowed themselves this small reprieve, knowing that the fight ahead would demand everything they had. But in this moment, together, they were unshaken.
–☀︎–
The cafe was tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, its warm lights spilling onto the sidewalk and contrasting the cool evening air. Inside, Mel sat across from him, his ever-present notebook open on the table. Empty coffee cups and a half-eaten pastry littered the space between them. Sun sat back, his arms crossed and his mask firmly in place, the reflective glasses he wore concealing his eyes. The mask had become his signature, a small piece of anonymity he refused to relinquish, even now.
"So," Mel said, tapping his pen against the notebook, "we've got a short list. Angry rivals, greedy sponsors, and maybe even a disgruntled organizer. Which theory are we running with?" Sun leaned forward slightly. "It's not just about who benefits—it's about who had access. Oh's bike wasn't tampered with on the track. It was too clean. Whoever did it had time and tools."
Mel nodded, scribbling furiously. "So we're talking someone close to the paddock. A fellow racer or a team member." He paused, glancing up. "What about Asyut? He's got a reputation for playing dirty."
"Too obvious," Sun said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Asyut's an idiot, but he doesn't have the finesse for something like this. He'd have been caught already." Mel smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Fair point. So who, then? Some shadowy mastermind twirling their mustache?" Sun chuckled softly, the sound muffled by his mask. "If only it were that simple. My guess? It's someone high up. A sponsor with too much to lose or gain. They use racers like pawns. Oh wasn't just fast—he was a threat. Someone might've decided to take him out before he got even bigger."
Mel's eyes gleamed with interest. "A bold theory, Hawk. But if that's true, how do you plan to get close to them without blowing your cover?"
"That's why I'm still anonymous," Sun replied. "If they don't know who I am, they can't see me coming." Mel tilted his head, his grin playful. "Mysterious as always. You're really leaning into this whole shadowy avenger persona, aren't you?"
"Part of the charm," Sun shot back, his tone teasing. "You wouldn't like me half as much if I was boring."
"Who says I like you now?" Mel quipped, though his smirk betrayed him. "You're here, aren't you?" Sun countered, leaning forward slightly. "Could've been anywhere else, but you chose to sit here, sipping coffee and talking conspiracy theories with me." Mel laughed, shaking his head. "Fair enough, Hawk. But you owe me something next time."
"Deal," Sun said, standing and pulling on his gloves. "Come on. I'll give you a lift." Mel raised an eyebrow, closing his notebook. "A lift? On that ?" He gestured toward the sleek white and gold motorcycle parked just outside the cafe window. "You scared?" Sun asked, his voice tinged with challenge. Mel scoffed, grabbing his bag. "Not a chance. But if you're expecting me to hold on tight and scream like a damsel in distress, you've got another thing coming."
"Good," Sun said, a grin evident in his voice even through the mask. "Wouldn't want you cramping my style."
The bike purred softly as Sun stood beside it, holding a spare helmet in his hands. He glanced at Mel, his fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the helmet before stepping closer. "Here," Sun said softly, his voice slightly muffled by the surgical mask. "Let me help."
Mel raised an eyebrow but didn't protest, watching as Sun carefully lifted the helmet over his head. Sun hesitated for a moment, his hands steady but his gaze flickering nervously between the helmet and Mel's face.
"Chin up," Sun murmured, his tone softer than usual.
Mel tilted his head slightly, their eyes locking for a brief moment. The proximity, the quiet hum of the night around them, and the lingering tension between them all seemed to tighten the air. Mel's lips curved into the faintest smile, and Sun felt his pulse quicken.
As he secured the helmet strap under Mel's chin, his gloved fingers brushed lightly against Mel's jaw. It was fleeting but enough to send a jolt through Sun. He froze for a split second, his eyes locked on Mel's, who was now staring at him with quiet curiosity.
"Thanks," Mel said softly, his voice low but carrying more weight than the word seemed to hold. Sun blinked, his nervous energy breaking through. "Uh, yeah," he mumbled, stepping back quickly and fumbling for his own helmet. He tugged it on with practiced efficiency, grateful for the cover it provided, and turned away to adjust the bike.
Mel chuckled quietly. "You okay there, Hawk?" Mel's laughter echoed softly as Sun started the engine, the moment lingering between them as the bike roared to life. "I'm trusting you not to kill me, Hawk. This better not turn into one of your training runs."
"Relax," Sun replied as he climbed onto the bike. "I save the stunts for the track. Usually."
Mel climbed on behind him, hesitating for a moment before placing his hands lightly on Sun's waist. Sun grabbed the journalist's hand and wrapped his arms tighter around him. "Comfortable? Don't want to lose you." Sun teased.
"Shut up and drive," Mel shot back, though his grip tightened slightly. Sun smirked under his helmet as they sped off into the night, the city lights blurring around them. For a brief moment, the weight of investigations and secrets lifted, replaced by the exhilaration of the ride.
When they finally arrived at Mel's condo, the reporter climbed off, removing his helmet and smoothing his hair. "Not bad, Hawk," he said, handing the helmet back. "You might actually be a decent chauffeur."
"Only for you, Mel," Sun replied, his voice laced with humor. Mel shook his head, grinning as he headed toward the building. "Same time, same place next week?"
"Wouldn't want to be late," Sun called after him before revving the bike and speeding into the night. As Mel watched him disappear, he couldn't help but smile. The Hawk was more than a mystery—he was a story waiting to be unraveled. And Mel was determined to write every word.
–☀︎–
Asyut stepped into the lavish study, his racing boots clicking softly on the marble floor. The room was dominated by a massive mahogany desk, behind which his sponsor, Apo Hiranchai, sat, swirling a glass of brandy.
"Asyut," Apo said smoothly, his sharp eyes locking onto the racer. "Right on time."
"You said you had something important," Asyut replied, leaning casually against the doorframe, though his curiosity was evident. "What's this about?" Apo gestured for him to sit in the plush leather chair across from the desk. Asyut obliged, his gaze flitting over the papers and a laptop open on the desk. Apo slid a photograph across the polished surface.
It was a still image from a recent race—a blurred figure in a bird-shaped helmet, leaning into a sharp turn. "The Hawk," Apo said, his voice low but commanding. Asyut scoffed, picking up the photo. "The rookie? What about him?"
Apo leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his brandy. "He's been making waves on the lower circuits. Fast, skilled, and, most interestingly, anonymous. No one knows who he is, and that makes him… dangerous."
Asyut smirked, tossing the photo back onto the desk. "Dangerous? Please. He's just another punk with a helmet trying to make a name for himself. I can take him."
"Can you?" Apo asked, his tone calm but pointed. "Because I don't think you realize how much of a threat he could become—not just to you, but to the entire system we've worked to control. Someone like him—talented, mysterious—attracts attention. Sponsors, fans, even the press. He's already becoming a wildcard."
Asyut shrugged, leaning back. "So what do you want me to do? Crush him on the track?"
Apo chuckled darkly, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "Eventually, yes. But first, I want you to race him. Study him. Find out what makes him tick. Who's backing him, who's in his corner. I need to know everything."
"Why not just dig into him yourself?" Asyut asked, though there was a gleam of interest in his eyes. "Because racers talk to racers," Apo said smoothly. "He won't open up to me—or anyone who works for me—but he might let something slip in the heat of competition. And if not, you're skilled enough to push him on the track. Test his limits. Expose his weaknesses."
Asyut grinned, his confidence returning in full force. "You want me to rattle him, huh? Make him second-guess himself?"
"Precisely," Apo said, leaning forward. "The Hawk is still young, inexperienced. His anonymity is his shield, but it can also be his downfall. Get close to him, Asyut. Make him doubt himself, make him slip, and then, when the time is right, take him down."
Asyut's grin widened as he stood, stretching lazily. "Consider it done. He won't know what hit him."
Apo smiled faintly, though his expression remained calculating. "Good. But remember, this isn't just about winning a race. It's about control. I need you to gather information. Every detail you can about him, his team, and his motives." Asyut nodded, turning to leave but pausing at the door. "Anything else I should know about him?"
Apo picked up the photo, studying it for a moment before answering. "He's fast, Asyut. Faster than most rookies have any right to be. Don't underestimate him." Asyut's smirk faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. "Don't worry. He's not beating me. Ever."
"See that he doesn't," Apo said, his tone carrying a quiet menace.
As Asyut left the study, Apo swirled his brandy again, his sharp gaze lingering on the photo of The Hawk. "Let's see what you're really made of," he muttered, a sinister smile playing on his lips.