Chump Change [2430-1-2 Tue 10:15 pm]

[Titus Vere]

There were only a few places Top dwellers could safely go in the Below (safe being a relative term). The Circuit was one of them. While the fanbase was primarily made up of Lowers, and some Tweeners, it was the high-rolling Tops that kept the money flowing and the coffers full. Fortunes were bet and lost on the races while those barely scraping by screamed and cheered and put down their own few pennies on a long shot and hoped they win.

Titus was not alone. This was all part of an outing, put on by one of Geoffrey's friends. While the Lowers and Tweeners were lined up against the racetrack's flimsy barriers, Titus and his friends were twelve stories about the city streets with a direct elevator that lead them in and out. There were exits, guarded by bodyguards to keep the riffraff from coming up, but no one bothered to step outside. Certainly, you could go stand at the railing. And when a car plowed through it, you could risk losing your life (or worse, disfiguring your face and living). From where they sat, large screens showed the best angles for watching, constantly switching between cameras to keep track of the racers even as they went through abandoned buildings or tore down the remains of the old freeways.

Titus was sitting on a couch, sipping champagne. He was still on his first glass of the evening, though his 'friends' were throughly in their cups. Isabelle was passed out on a lounge chair, dress hiked up obscenely high. If it weren't for her unfortunate wardrobe malfunction, she would have been taken out of the lounge a good half hour ago and sent back up. After all, if you weren't betting, you weren't welcome. But she provided a distraction, and so she was left so long as it was a welcome one.

There was a distant booming sound as some racer turned too sharply right and found themselves intimately acquainted with a concrete wall. The explosion and rubble were show in the highest definition possible, eliciting a few cheers and shocked gasps from the crowd. Titus turned his attention away from the screen. He had no interest looking at mangled limbs, not unless had been the one to do the mangling.

Geoffrey's friend circled the room, talking quickly to people. He was a nervous man, a thin and almost sickly looking redhead. Titus wanted to get him alone, see if he was pale all the way down, and then see if his insides were the same. But Geoffrey wouldn't have appreciated that. After all, it was his contact to the Below, and Geoffrey felt so excited to be slumming it, even if it wasn't really slumming it. No one here had actually set foot on the streets of the Below, except for the help.

And except for Titus.

Isabelle woke up and stumbled toward the bathroom. A waiter followed, along with a pair of bodyguards. Too bad Isabelle. Titus watched them disappear and turned his eyes to the screen. The race would be finishing soon. Then there would be some promotion for the next race, listing the racer and showing a video of their highlights. Then bets would be taken, and the race would begin.

So far Titus had won two races and lost one. He was up $20,00, but would likely break even. Titus didn't come here to win. Truth be told, he wasn't sure why he came. He had little interest in the races, or the deaths, and even less in the betting or drinking. But he came every time he was invited, just like clockwork.

Sometimes, even Titus didn't know how his own mind worked.

[Mac]

"One more question please!"

Mac rolled her eyes, spinning on her heels to look back at the reporter who was bothering her. She glanced at the digital numbers scrolling across the wall above their heads, telling them how much time they had left until her race started. She sighed, looking back at the man who was shoving a microphone in her face. "One more. I'm going to be late for my heat."

He was shorter than her. Balding. Annoying and pushy. Like so many of them, really. He grinned, a satisfied smile that made him look like a strange little creature. "Is there any truth to the rumors?" he asked quickly.

She looked at him questioningly. "Which rumor is that? If it's the lesbian thing again, seriously don't you people have any oth--"

"That you're a Were."

Mac snorted. "What?"

"Your tattoos, some argue that they're not just for show. And as you know, non-humans are banned from--"

"Sir," she put her hand up to stop him. "If I were really a Were under cover, do you think I would tattoo my species across myself and let everyone know it?"

"But why a leopard's spots? Wouldn't a cheetah be more fitting in a sport such as this?" He pressed on.

She smiled as politely as she could, despite her mind cycling all the ways this man could accidentally end up with a broken limb or two. How many times had she explained the tattoos to the press? She was pretty sure every person who had ever interviewed her had asked about them. For the one hundredth time, she gave in and began the explanation. "It's true, that the cheetah was rumored to have been the fastest animal alive. But they were sprinters. They never went the distance. They weren't built."

"And so a leopard is really the fastest animal?"

"Heaven's no. But any number of animals could beat a cheetah in a long distance race. A horse, for example, but not so easy to tattoo..."

"So then why the leopard?" he pressed. "Are you sure it's not because of your true--"

"Buddy, I grew up on Terra. There are records to prove it. I'm as human as that guy over there." She pointed. And then she motioned in the other direction. "That guy, however... I'd watch out for him." Mac smirked. "Good day, sir."

She turned and continued on her way towards the garage where her bike was being housed, shaking her head. The stories some of these people would cook up, she thought, running her fingers through her red hair, picking out a couple of tangles. Sometimes she wished she'd never revealed her true identity. It was always easier to ignore the reporters when everyone knew you as the mysterious one who never spoke or took off their mask.

[Regan Verena]

The idiots all laughed as Mac dissed the reporter, but Regan couldn't bring himself to laugh. How the hell could he laugh when his life was falling to pieces? It was only restraint that kept him from having a full fledged mental breakdown.

This wasn't what he'd wanted out of life. He'd had plans. Maybe they hadn't been big ones but they'd been his plans and that's what mattered. And while his parents had been busy whoring his sister out to move up the ranks, Regan had been doing it on his own. It seemed simple enough when he was sixteen, back when he first decided he didn't want to run his father's stupid mechanic shop. But things had gotten... complicated.

They were interviewing the Monkey Wrench right now. He could barely string two sentences together normally, but he'd been coached enough that he could at least spit out a semi-intelligible sentence. While he mumbled about what he was going to do to Mac (mostly vague sexist threats because everybody loved those), Regan desperately wished he had something to fiddle with. He didn't feel too comfortable watching the screen, especially knowing what was going to happen to Monkey Wrench tonight. Regan was still squeamish, even though he'd tried hard to do away with that bit of himself.

Finally they got him off screen and he turned his eyes back to the screen as they showed the odds alongside footage of Mac and Monkey Wrench's best finishes (and best crashes). Monkey Wrench had 2:1 odds, while Mac had 7:1 odds. Mac usually wasn't the long-shot person, but Monkey Wrench was on a winning streak, one that was thirty races long, and Mac was just coming off a loss to Barnyard Pete. This was the perfect situation for Regan. He'd gathered up with little money he could borrow from others and had gotten a friend to bet it on Mac. If Mac won, it wouldn't get Regan out of his debt, but it would pay off the debt collectors for a few more weeks, long enough that he could start a new scheme.

Regan looked away from the screen, and barely bit back a screen. One of Geoffrey's friends had appeared beside him (literally appeared because Regan hadn't heard him get up and move). The man smiled at Regan and Regan gave him a brief smile back, quickly turning his head to look at the display. The guy was familiar, and Regan didn't know why, but he knew that familiar people were usually bad people, people he owed money to or had done favours for, or pissed off. Maybe if he stared at the screen long enough, he'd go away.

[Titus Vere]

Titus watched the interviews. He'd seen Monkey Wrench race before. The man was an imbecilic, but an excellent driver. He also grated on Titus' sensibilities. How difficult was it to wash yourself once in a while? You could almost smell the stink of him through the screen.

On the other hand, he'd never seen Mac, but he'd certainly heard about her. She seemed sharp, but how was her racing? The odds weren't in her favour. But she did have a quality that he liked. She was the underdog, a woman racing in a sport dominated by men. Titus did not usually like underdogs, but he did like smart people. And he did like people who looked like they showered.

They came around asking for bets. Titus put his $20,000 on her. If he lost, it was no tragedy. He planned to break even, not win. And if he won? Well then, wouldn't that be interesting?

Titus got to his feet and walked over to the nervous fellow, standing beside him. It took the redhead a few seconds to realize there was someone beside him. The look of shock on his face was delicious. He got himself under control, gave Titus a tight smile and turned back to the screen.

Oh yes, Titus was going to have to find a way to spend time with this one. But he turned his eyes back to the screen. The race would be starting soon. Titus wanted to see if he'd bet on a winner or not.

[Mac]

She'd finally gotten to look at the roster and noted that she was driving against Monkey Wrench this race. She sighed, knowing this was going to be an interesting race. That big foul mouthed lunker was known for cheating. She'd raced him before, and she'd narrowly escaped that one with her life, what with the ridiculous modifications he liked to add to his bike. The league usually turned a blind eye to those sorts of things. She suspected it was because of the entertainment value that the added danger brought to the show.

She avoided weapons on her bike, mostly out of the desire to keep it light. She was competitive for sure, but killing people for someone else's entertainment wasn't part of the equation for her. Simply focusing on winning was. A weighed down, dangerous bike wasn't the best for quick and fast manoeuvrings.

Mac pushed her bike towards the starting line, ignoring the spectators' noise as best she could. Focus, Mac, this will be a dangerous one. Keep your focus.

She glanced over at the other racers already gathered there. Monkey Wrench was nearby, leering at her next to his ugly hulking hover bike. She just brushed him off with a Don't-Even-Go-There look, and then pulled her hair up and twisted it, shoving her helmet on over top of it. She threw her leg over the bike and got settled, gripping the handle bars in anticipation. Focus...

[Regan Verena]

The screen flashed a countdown, and the cheers went up at the barricades, the Lowers going into a frenzy. Regan tucked his hands into his pockets, trying to look straight ahead at the race and not at the guy standing directly beside him. The numbers flashed as they hit the ten second mark, and a loud buzzer sounded when it hit zero.

The bikes roared to life, Mac's substantially faster than Monkey Wrench's. The woman zipped ahead and down the track, Monkey Wrench trailing behind. There was a sudden flash of flame lighting up the screen as the man triggered the flamethrower on the front of his bike. It was flashy and impressive, but useless. Mac was out of range. But Monkey Wrench knew better than to end a race in the first ten seconds.

Mac zipped to the first turn and put her bike into a slide, curving around the corner and shooting into the first obstacle of the course, an old concrete plant transformed for the racers. There were ramps and beams to smash through, and even a few magnetic plates to mess up the hoverbikes and send them spinning out of control. Mac missed the first set of plating while Monkey Wrench hit it and skidded right. She knew the course. He didn't.

Regan's heart actually managed to unlock itself for a moment. Maybe he was about to get a break. Monkey Wrench was still coming after her, but she was fast, and she was smart. If she kept it up, she'd give him the breathing room he so desperately needed.

Then Monkey Wrench hit a toggle on his cramped dashboard and something white and small came rocketing off the bike. Regan's mouth went dry. The cameras carefully didn't show it, but you could see it coming for her, the rocket or bomb or whatever it was. Mac got a pillar between her and Monkey Wrench, and the bomb smashed into dead-on, tearing up the front side, but it didn't make it through. She roared past the screaming crowd.

Regan swallowed, and the man beside him lent over, speaking softly, "She's going to win."

"She better." Regan said without thinking and glanced at the man. And he actually let himself smile at the stranger. The stranger smiled back. They turned back and watched Mac hit the freeway section. She could really open up here and let her speed give her the lead she needed to keep herself away from Monkey Wrench. Or she could get pegged with whatever he had up his sleeve.

[Mac]

She hadn't been surprised at his tricks, but she'd certainly been surprised that he'd begun using them so early in the race. Mac leveled her bike, taking the freeway section of the course as straight on as she could, gaining as much speed that he bike would allow in order to further the gap between her and Monkey Wrench. The third racer didn't even count. He'd already fallen far behind the other two and would never catch up unless she and Monkey Wrench both ended up not finishing the race.

She wasn't planning on that outcome. Mac made a quick movement, turning the bike abruptly to get around the corner and following the course outlines down into what must have once been an underground parkade. Now that this area of the city was mostly deserted, it was a place mostly for squatters. And racers.

She zipped around the pillars, her bike having far more finesse than Monkey Wrench would ever dream of having. As long as she could play it cool and keep her lead, not falling victim to any of the Wrench's tricks, she totally had this one in the bag.

Don't get cocky yet, Mac. You know these races can be unpredictable!

[Titus Vere]

Titus was more interested in watching the man beside him than the screen. He was terrible at hiding his emotions, and they flickered across his face. It was very entertaining. As Mac dodged what was clearly a missile, he seemed to nearly freeze and then melt again in relief.

"She's going to win." He said, voice low enough that only the man could hear him. The response was a quick "she better" and then a smile. Titus smiled back, looking about as innocent as he could.

On the screen, Mac gained the distance she needed. She was out of the parkade before Monkey Wrench got in. There was almost no chance the man would catch up, so long as Mac stayed ahead. The third racer, so unimportant that he hadn't gotten his own video, was still making his way down the freeway.

Titus set an arm on the man's shoulders and the man lent into him, grinning broadly at the screen. People were always at their most vulnerable when they were about to get a break. Their defences all dropped away and Titus could easily get at them. Not that he was going to do anything stupid, surrounded by people, and certainly not with someone who could lead back to Titus. Sometimes, getting in close enough to kill them was as good as actually doing it.

Mac finished the first lap, and the crowd screamed and cheered as she came roaring out the gate and down the open stretch. And while they were blinded by the flashing lights and sounds, Titus spotted a nasty surprise dropped in the dirt. Monkey Wrench was clearly playing the long game, expecting Mac to lap him, because there were a few proximity mines lying in the entrance to the concert plant. Titus saw them. The man beside him clearly did not. Would Mac?

Titus watched the screen with interest. He could lose in the next twenty seconds. Or he could see Mac guarantee her victory by leaving the mines for Monkey Wrench to try dodge with his bulky rig.

[Mac]

She noticed the first mine fast enough to dodge it, but not fast enough to avoid setting it off. The motion sensor caught her quick and panicked movement around it, and the mine exploded right next to her, sending her bike spinning off in the wrong direction.

Mac fought the spin, shifting her body weight to adjust the bike back into it's proper direction again. She was pretty sure her clothes were singed a bit by that close call, but she didn't stop to check. No time. Monkey Wrench was gaining on her now. She slammed the bike back into the right gear and took off, hoping she hadn't taken any severe damage to it that might hurt her in the long run.

[Regan Verena]

Regan was taken completely off guard by the explosion. He blurted out a "no!", seeing his chances evaporate to nothing in an instance. He had to get out of here. Mac was fiked and no money meant no reason to stay. Regan was stepping to the side when the stranger grabbed onto Regan and held him still. The man had an iron grip, "Don't give up yet. The smoke hasn't even cleared."

He looked at the man. And suddenly he realized he did know the face. It was Digeo's pet assassin. What little colour his face had was suddenly drained. "are you here for me?" He asked, wondering if there was any chance for him to escape, or at least send his parents a goodbye.

"No." The assassin said. "I'm here to watch the races. Look. There she goes."

Regan glanced to the screen. And there Mac went. She'd lost a lot of her lead, and Monkey Wrench had gained. The bike wobbled, but it kept going, maybe not as fast as before but still faster than Monkey Wrench. The freeway section was just ahead of her. If she got through it before Monkey Wrench, she would be so far ahead that the only way to get her was through mines, and there was no way she'd be caught off guard by them a second time. But if she didn't speed up, he had a clear shot at her with the rockets, and no guarantee that she'd reach the parkade in time to find a pillar to lose the rocket on.

Regan crossed his fingers, "go baby go!" he whispered, hoping that she could do it.

[Mac]

Come on, come on... she urged her bike as she felt it picking up speed once more. Not fast enough, though. She hit the freeway once more, trying to use it as much as possible to pick up the speed she once had.

She was angry at herself for not noticing the mines earlier. Especially after trying so hard not to get too comfortable in her lead. She would be ready next time. If Monkey Wrench was going to keep playing dirty, she was going to turn the tables on him. She just had to figure out how close one needed to get to those mines without setting them off. With only one lap left, it was going to boil down to absolute luck.

[Titus Vere]

The man's panic attack was forgotten in a second, eyes fixed on Mac. Titus would have laughed, only that would have drawn too much attention. Instead he let himself be amused inside. So, the man thought someone would send Titus after him? Whoever he was indebted to had to be very rich for Titus to be in his price range.

On the screen, Mac opened up the throttle and ripped down the freeway. It was here that you really saw the beauty of her bike, the way it had been engineered to run instead of fight. And run it did. Even with damaged hoverpads, it zipped along fast enough to blow back the crowd.

Monkey Wrench came out of the concrete plant. Engines on the back of the unsightly bike roared to life, giving him a boost. Titus couldn't smell it, but he had no doubt it was a gasoline engine boosting him along. Those things were horribly expensive to run, but it would let him catch up to her, get in nice and close for the final kill.

It was a mistake. Titus knew immediately that Monkey Wrench had guaranteed himself the loss. The manoeuvrability on that bike must have just dropped to zero the moment he upped the speed. Mac wouldn't even need a mine. She would just need to keep him on her tail until she got into the parkade, and introduce him to a few of the reinforced supports. There was no way he'd be able to turn away from them in time.

Of course, that was assuming he would choose to try ram her instead of just opening up with a rocket. But Titus was willing to bet that Monkey Wrench wouldn't sit back. She was a woman after all, and the more primal parts of his piggish little brain were likely egging him on to get nice and close for the final blow. Titus kept his grip on his redheaded friend's shoulders and watched the screen carefully.

[Mac]

Mac risked a glance towards her mirrors, trying to gague the distance between Monkey Wrench and herself. He was nearly on her tail, managing to gain the same speed she had. But, she remembered, his bike was still bulkier, despite the damages to her own bike.

She took the turn into the parkade and then took off between all of the pillars. She could tell Monkey Wrench was out for blood. He wasn't bright, but he also wasn't so dumb that he would waste all of his tricks in the first lap. No, she knew he would pull something else out sooner or later. She just needed to beat him to it.

She sharply began weaving her bike between the pillars.

[Regan Verena]

It was getting down to the wire. They were coming up on the third lap, but it looked like Mac might not even make it this far. Regan bit the inside of his cheek, nervously watching her. Fights didn't get this nasty so fast unless there was a grudge involved. He couldn't remember Mac and Monkey Wrench fighting, but that didn't mean there wasn't something going on behind the scenes.

She weaved around one pillar, and he barely followed, side of his bike scraping the pillar and leaving behind streaks of paint. The second took off one of his hoverpads. The bike started spinning out of control without the hoverpad to keep it moving straight. Monkey Wrench bailed out, tumbling end over end as he hit the pavement. The bike kept plowing ahead, smashing through two and a half pillars before it simply crumpled against one of the great steel pillars grounding the parkade to Terra's surface.

The crowd screamed and cheered, and on screen, a bright red X appeared over Monkey Wrench's name. Mac, and the other racer (King) were still in the race. For a moment, they were side-by-side as Mac lapped the slower King, and then she simply opened up the throttle and kept on moving. There was no way she wouldn't win.

A few officials came along and picked Monkey Wrench up off the ground. The man was badly hurt, but not dead. He was moved before Mac could make her way back to his position. Regan couldn't hold in the happy gleeful smile. That girl had just bought him a month of breathing room. Maybe it wasn't official yet, but in less than a minute's time, it would be.

[Mac]

It all went according to plan, and soon Monkey Wrench was getting peeled off of the pavement. Mac just needed one more lap. She quickly passed the third racer and crossed the line, starting the third lap. Remembering to keep the mines in mind, she did some quick maneuvering around the area she knew they had been from the previous lap.

She hit the freeway and did her best to gain more speed. She was going to win no matter what, but the least she could do was try for an even better time. Mac sharply turned into the parkade section and began weaving through the pillars once more. Maybe a bit of show there, for the audience.

Finally she approached the finish line. There it was, another race in the bag. She grinned widely under her helmet as she blasted through the line, hearing the cheers erupting from the audience. Winning was the one feeling in the world she would never allow herself to get too used to. Never did she ever want to be bored with the euphoric mood she gained upon a great win.