#fast.talk

that’s  the  second  thing  the  company  looks  for  in  new  hires,  just  behind  the  right  skill  set  for  the  job.  where  do  you  see  yourself  five  years  down  the  line?  you’ve  never  been  asked  that  question.  they’ve  never  had  to.  you  know  the  right  answer  all  the  same.  a  smile.  back  straight.  a  head  tilt.  confidence  is  appreciated,  but  so  is  the  bashfulness  injected  into,  hopefully  manager  here.  i’d  like  to  grow  my  career  with  the  company.  so,  so  predictable.  you  smile  back  every  time  someone  gives  it  to  you  just  like  that.

(  sometimes  you  wonder,  what  would  you  have  said  if  tigress  had  pulled  you  aside  that  first  week,  sat  you  down  and  asked,  where  do  you  see  yourself  five  years  down  the  line?  you  were  young  and  hopeful  too,  once.  eager  to  prove  yourself.  new  to  the  job.  

you  don’t  think  you  would’ve  lied.  )

i  mean,  it  depends,  you’ve  heard  once.  they  didn’t  get  hired.  you  leaned  in  anyway,  during  that  interview.  heard  them  say,  it’ll  be  nice  to  still  be  here,  of  course.  but  there  are  a  lot  of  factors,  you  know?  a  stare,  dead  in  your  eye.  confidence  without  the  bashfulness.  it’s  a  two  -  way  street.

it  is,  isn’t  it?  a  two  -  way  street  turned  into  a  road  you  never  looked  back  on.  that’s  what  they  say  about  those  who  left  the  garage  hot  on  mercury’s  trail.  no  amount  of  placating,  it’s  not  personal,  can  change  that.  there  are  many  things  that  you  don’t  mean,  but  this  one  is  different.  it’s  like  being  in  the  company.  not  for  you,  maybe,  but  for  anyone  else.  one  day  they’ll  leave  and  get  a  better  job  and  it’ll  make  you  happy.  it’s  not  personal.  is  that  not  real  loyalty?  

the  nariza  bois  huddle  by  the  side  of  the  track  and  you  watch  a  group  of  prowlers  glare  from  across  the  road.  they  stick  to  each  other.  the  grip  one  prowler  has  on  another’s  wrist  is  too  tight.  the  bois  are  pressed  too  closely  together.  there  are  two  packs  of  wolves  out  here.  you  put  your  arm  around  nory’s  shoulders  and  miss  the  blazing  heat  in  eddie’s  eyes  when  he  looks  in  your  direction.  you  think  you  get  it.  maybe.  the  company  you  can’t  leave.  the  crew  you  can.  that’s  easy.  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  loyalty.  loyalty  is  real  —  it’s  deeper  than  that.  the  company  is  a  shackle.  it’s  family.

         you feel it before it even hits the finish line — the weight in your chest, like something’s pressing down on you, making it harder to breathe. it doesn’t hit all at once. it creeps up on you, slow & relentless, until it wraps around your ribs & squeezes. the first hard right feels like the beginning of the end, & you know it. every shift, every turn, every drop of sweat that’s gone into perfecting this machine — it's all coming apart now. you’ve lost before. but this... this feels different.

         there’s a flicker of a thought that’s almost too quick to catch. it’s not the race, not the mechanics, not the adrenaline or the speed. it’s the moment when your focus fractured. the words she said, the way she smiled. you’ve never been good at letting distractions in, but tonight, something about her stuck with you. it didn’t make sense, not here, not now. you should’ve pushed it away, buried it beneath the roar of the engine & the hum of the streetlights. but you didn’t. & now it’s ruined you.

         the race unfolds like a blur. you’re behind, & no matter how much you push, no matter how hard you slam the pedal to the floor, you can’t seem to catch up. vipers’ drift is perfect, smooth like she was born to do it. ghost’s nos bursts like a shot of pure fire, the car flying past, & there’s genesis, just ahead, her grip on the road unshakable. & then there’s you — fighting to hold on, but losing.

         your hands tighten on the wheel, your knuckles white, but the frustration doesn’t come. not yet. instead, it’s that hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach, the slow realization that this is it. you’re falling behind, & there’s nothing you can do to change it. the tunnel looms ahead, a final stretch, a curve you’ve mastered before. you push too hard, take the turn too wide, & just like that, it’s over. & you’re slipping.

         third place. the finish line comes & goes, & all you can do is watch it fade. the others are ahead of you, their cars tearing through the air like they’ve won everything. vipers’ triumphant roar, ghost’s triumphant smirk. you cross the line, & it’s a quiet thud, like a weight dropping.

& it hurts more than you thought it would.

         your chest is tight, your throat dry, & your hands are still gripping the wheel like you can turn back time, but you can’t. you can’t fix it now. the ache of it settles into your bones, & it’s all you can do to sit there, still, as the engine hums its final note.

         but this is how it goes, isn’t it ? this is the price of losing. the sting that doesn’t just burn — it lingers. you think about the hours you spent with your crew, the way you’ve all worked together for this moment. & it feels like it didn’t matter. except it does. you can feel it now, the slow build of that fire under your skin, the heat that refuses to die. 

         you slam your door open, & for a moment, you just stand there, hands clenching & unclenching slowly at your sides, eyes narrowed as you stare out into the distance. focus. focus. just focus. but it’s not working. it’s not that simple. it’s the fucking nariza bois. it’s them, & how they’re always there, always winning, always pulling shit like this. viper & ghost, acting like they own the goddamn streets. & you want to tear them apart.

         you pace, every step a reflection of how restless you feel, how your blood is pumping faster than it should be. the heat is still there, boiling up in your chest, making your fists ache to hit something. someone. the thought of their faces, the sound of their laughs, it’s all you need to fuel the fire that’s burning in you. you could feel the fury, the frustration, the anger rising until you can’t hold it in anymore.

         it’s not just the race. it’s not just about losing. it’s the way everything’s tangled up in your head, the way it all feels out of your control, the way you let it slip. & now, you need to hit something. you need to make them feel this. you can feel your pulse in your fingertips, like your body’s electric with all this anger, all this frustration, & you don’t know what to do with it. fuck it. you’re done standing still.