The race had begun and all the cars had sped through an orange light on the ground. As they did, the orange line flickered and made a bling sound. This was an indication that a racer had passed the checkpoint; it also recorded which racer was the first to pass the checkpoint.
This was a selection race, where all the racers were to pass the starting checkpoint five times, and the racer who passed the checkpoint first more than the rest would be declared the winner of this race.
The first to cross the checkpoint more than the rest of the nine racers would be declared the winner of the race. The driver in the red sports car brought up the blue screen that previously displayed a timer.
This time the screen didn't show a timer, but a map of the arena and the racers' positions. It also showed who was the first to cross the checkpoint. It was a racer in the black sports car, and it seemed that they were in the lead.
The driver in the red sports car was in fifth place. Not bad, but not good either. They had to get first place. The driver in red stomped on the pedal and tried his best to overtake the sports car in front of him. It was a pink sports car. Every time the driver in red would try to overtake the pink sports car, it would always get in his way.
The driver in the pink sports car was surprisingly good at stopping an overtake. The driver in red would turn right; the pink sports car would do the same. The driver in red would turn left, and the pink sports car would do the same. It left absolutely no space for the driver in red to pass through.
"What is this!?", the driver in red said. "The world's first black belt in overtake blocking." The pink sports car still blocked the driver in red's view. All they saw was the pink car's trunk.
They had never hated the color pink so much until that moment. "Fine. You wanna be that way? You leave me no choice." The driver in red accelerated their car and crashed into the pink car's trunk.
The driver in pink felt the jolt as they were lifted from their seat a little. The driver in red decelerated away from the trunk of the pink car and accelerated, crashing into the pink car's trunk again. The driver in red decelerated once more and accelerated, hitting the pink car's trunk.
This went on for a while. This was a dirty way of racing, but the driver in red couldn't care less. He had to do whatever it took to win. The driver in red accelerated and slammed into the pink sports car once more. This time the pink sports car drifted off course from the track and crashed into the wall of the arena.
"HA! How do you like that?", the driver in red taunted. They were now in fourth position. They had never been this close to winning. The driver in red brought up the digital screen showing the map of the arena.
Yellow was in third place, green in second, and black in first. "Okay, just gotta get past these three, then I'm the winner." They accelerated towards the yellow sports car. They planned on using the same dirty technique they had done to the pink sports car. Then suddenly the driver in red felt a strong bump. "What was that?" The driver in red felt the bump again.
The driver in red turned back and found a blue sports car constantly slamming into his trunk. The driver in red felt a larger thump this time, causing them to let go of the steering wheel but quickly caught it.
"Phew, that was close." The driver in red let out a sigh of relief. But just when he started to relax, the blue sports car slammed into his trunk with such force that it knocked the driver in red's car out of the way.
The red sports car skidded in circles. The driver in red tried their best to regain control of their vehicle and barely succeeded. The red sports car was positioned sideways on the racing track.
The driver in red brought out the digital screen to check their current position. It showed that the driver in red had returned to being fifth place. "Okay, this isn't so bad, I can…" Before the driver in red could finish their sentence, an orange sports car crashed into his and passed him, now making the driver in red sixth position.
"Okay, I can still make it…" Then a white sports car did the same as the previous cars. It crashed and passed the driver in red. Now the driver in red was in seventh position.
"Okay, I'm not gonna lie, I'm in trouble, but I still think I can…" Then a purple sports car crashed and passed, and then a brown sports car. The driver in red was now at ninth position.
"Oh, come the hell on!", the driver in red screamed and repeatedly bashed the steering wheel in frustration. Then the pink sports car appeared at the front of the red sports car.
The driver in red could see the driver in pink through the windows of their sports car. The engine of the pink sports car roared, but it still remained. The driver in pink stepped on the pedal and on the brakes.
The front tires stopped, but the back tires started to screech, followed by a louder roar. The driver in red knew what was coming. They nodded sideways; the driver in pink nodded vertically.
The driver in pink got off the brakes and zoomed full speed ahead at the driver in red. The pink sports car crashed into the red sports car with a lot more force than the previous cars. It knocked the red sports car off the track and made it tumble for a while.
"Well, isn't karma a bitch?", the driver in red said to himself. The red sports car had stopped tumbling and was now upside down. The digital screen appeared and showed the driver in red that they were now at the last position.
"Damn it," the driver in red cursed. Another message appeared on the digital screen.
Warning: Vehicle is no longer able to properly function.
It brought up a blueprint of the red sports car and filled the damaged parts with the color red. This was to show that those parts were severely damaged.
The driver in red wanted to curse, but what would be the point? The rest of the drivers continued on with the race, passing him and his damaged car.
A notification came up on the blue screen.
The Qualification Race is over.
It showed the positions of the racers. The winner of the race was the driver in black who went by the username: Black Knight 41.
Congratulations Black Knight 41. You have won the Qualification Race. You are now a racer of Overdrive Online.
The message ended there. The driver in red felt utterly miserable. This was the closest they had come to winning, and this was their worst loss. The driver in red also felt utter fear because of what would happen next.
He had to win the race, or else something truly terrible would happen to him.
The digital screen appeared again with one more message.
You are being forcefully logged out.
Then everything in the driver's view started to turn into little specks of light. Then the driver in red saw complete darkness.
"That's a shame. You lost. You know what happens now, right?", a voice said. The driver in red started to sweat as they heard this voice. They knew the voice quite well. They had become so terrified of it that just hearing it would make their heart beat uncontrollably.
The driver in red quickly removed the rectangular curved device that wrapped around their eyes and the back of their neck, which prevented them from seeing, and leaped off a slanted chair.
The driver in red rushed towards a wooden door but was caught by the arm and punched in the gut. The driver in red scoffed and knelt as they held their stomach.
At that moment, the driver in red wasn't a driver in red. The driver in red was a young man who looked to be in his late teens. He had hair that ran past his eyes, blue eyes, a thin body, and looked to be 1.7 meters tall. This young man who found himself in an unfortunate situation was Danny Ketch.
Someone who foolishly took loans from loan sharks so he could play a game. The man who punched Danny was a muscular bald man who appeared to be in his forties.
Thomas—that was his name. Unfortunately for Danny, this wasn't the first time that he was punched by Thomas. Every punch he got from Thomas seemed to be more painful than the last.
"Thomas, bring him back to her," the voice ordered. Thomas grabbed Danny by the arm and dragged his weak body in front of a pot-bellied man. Danny looked down; he didn't want to look at the man's face.
"Running away? That hurts my feelings, Danny. I thought you and I had some trust. Obviously, I was wrong," the voice said.
"Jim. Jim, please. Please don't do this," Danny pleaded. "I'm begging you. I'll pay you back your money. Somehow."
"Yeah, that's what you said the last four times. Believe it or not, kid, I had faith in you. But if you can't pay me the money from this stupid game that everyone can't shut up about, then I'll have to get my money from you another way. You know? The way we agreed," Jim said.
Danny gulped. "Thomas, strap him to the chair," Jim ordered.
"Okay, boss," Thomas said. Hearing this, Danny attempted to make a run for it once more, but he was kicked hard in the stomach by Thomas, causing him to wince in pain.
Thomas carried Danny and strapped him to the slanted chair using duct tape. Danny resisted, but with a weak body like his, it was pointless.
Thomas gave Jim a toolbox. Jim opened it and brought out a scalpel. This was the other way of payment that Jim was referring to. If Danny couldn't pay him his money back by winning the race, then Jim would take some of his organs.
"Are you ready, Danny?", Jim asked with a cynical smile.
"NOOOOOOO!", Danny screamed.