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The driver tried to swerve left to push us off the road, but it was too late. My partner had closed the gap too quickly, and the driver of the Havelina couldn't react in time to the approaching vehicle. I stuck my hand out of the window, shot out the front tire, and quickly pulled my hand back in. Kiwi slammed on the brakes, allowing the car to fly off into the ditch in front of us.
"Nine," the blonde said cheerfully, sticking her tongue out at the rearview mirror.
"She's something else!"
"Kiwi's behavior is markedly different from her usual manner," Vega noted, analyzing the reason behind this change in character.
"Adrenaline affects everyone differently. Some people become calmer, while others act more like her," I explained to the AI in my usual manner.
"Biological processes inside humans significantly impact their thinking and analytical abilities. I need to experience these processes firsthand to create a comprehensive analysis," Vega said.
"You want a living body?" I asked the AI, surprised.
"Affirmative," the AI confirmed.
"In that case, the only option I can suggest is Gemini. Unfortunately, local technology doesn't yet allow an AI to fully transfer into a living body. The brain can't handle such a load, even with additional computational processes."
"Gemini can't replicate all biological processes and would limit my capabilities to 35%," Vega complained, making a dissatisfied face. She really does mimic Susan, with a few rare exceptions.
"We'll take what we can get," I said, shrugging as I brought up the local map on the visor screen. We were already halfway to the turnoff towards the airfield, which meant half the journey was behind us.
Along the way, we encountered two more disabled vehicles. One was still salvageable, but the other was completely destroyed, along with the people inside. Honestly, it wasn't a pleasant sight. Judging by my girlfriend's grimace, she agreed with me. Simple math indicated there were only eight racers left, including us. As we dealt with our closest competitors, we managed to fall nearly a kilometer behind, making it difficult to catch up.
"Kiwi, after the turn towards the airfield, activate the boosters. Vega will assist with the controls."
"Can I really use them?" the blonde asked in surprise.
"Have fun," I said, waving my hand nonchalantly, seeing the enthusiastic look on my companion's face. "Just don't forget to brake a few hundred meters before the turn." Kiwi didn't respond, but I hoped that Vega would take over the controls if necessary and prevent the car from crashing into the nearby rocks.
As soon as Engel activated the boosters, I was slammed back into my seat. Moving was downright scary, and I secretly hoped we wouldn't crash today. At one point, the speedometer hit 400, and our car finally caught up with the group of four cars ahead of us. The racers didn't immediately notice us, which worked to our advantage. Kiwi took the opportunity and slipped between the shooting convoys, surging ahead and catching up to another group.
"Turn in seven hundred meters," Vega warned Kiwi in advance, allowing her to gradually reduce speed.
Even inside the cabin, I could hear the brake calipers working hard to stop the speeding car. The temperature gauge showed insane numbers, approaching nine hundred degrees Celsius. The guys did a great job building this car, and I would need to thank them later.
We took the turn at a fairly high speed, but thanks to Kiwi's driving skills and the AI's assistance, we managed to do it without crashing into the ditch. The distance to the leading trio was small, but ahead of us lay a narrow canyon, where overtaking an opponent would be quite a challenge. I knew the area well, as our clan often used it to smuggle goods into California. Nearby was a tunnel we had just passed, through which the nomads smuggled goods around the border wall set up by Militech for a small fee. The local checkpoint chief had set up a nice smuggling operation, bringing him and his people a good income.
The leading trio felt quite confident, even with our car on their tail. The modified "Coyotes" were the best series modification found in the wastelands, and at the moment, the owners of these cars were a bright confirmation of that. The "Coyote" model was a revamped "Mizutani Shion" 2060 model, adapted for the harsh conditions of the wastelands.
Going off-road, we couldn't overtake our opponents fairly, but no one said we had to play fair. Leaning out of the window, I fired several shots at the zigzagging cars. One of the bullets hit the cabin, likely injuring one of the navigators, if they had any. Another burst hit the nearest racer to us. His Coyote lost control and crashed into a rock, bumping our crew up to third place.
The group trailing behind us wasn't in a hurry to fight each other, but they didn't hesitate to take potshots at us. I had to silence the shooters by firing a targeted burst at them. One of the bullets even managed to hit a would-be marksman in the hand, tearing off his cybernetic wrist entirely. The other cars seemed to lose interest in us after that and turned their attention to each other, which I thought was a wise decision on their part.
"There's a climb ahead. Alex, can you take out the remaining racers?" Kiwi asked.
"No problem," I replied, reloading my pistol.
After navigating through the narrow canyon, we emerged right at the climb to the farmer's cooperative. Only a few kilometers remained to the finish line, meaning it was the perfect time to eliminate the remaining competitors on our way to victory. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one thinking along those lines. As soon as I stuck my head out, multiple guns opened fire on me. Apparently, the top two racers were working together, but I didn't care much. The shield in my hand activated obediently, allowing me to lean out and empty an entire magazine at the car on the right, which was desperately swerving from side to side. It took two magazines, but eventually, the driver of one of the two remaining Coyotes made a wrong move, steering into a rock on his right.
"One left. Hold steady, I'll try to take him out," I told Kiwi as I reloaded another magazine.
"I'm doing my best," Kiwi snorted, swerving around another boulder in the middle of the road.
The magazine I loaded went to waste. Not a single bullet hit the target. Checking my remaining ammo, I found I was running low. I had three full magazines and two half-empty ones. Not great, but better than nothing. Loading a half-empty magazine, I entered an accelerated state and fired four shots, two of which hit the rear bumper of the car ahead. Clicking my tongue in frustration, I used the partially spent magazine to fire the remaining bullets. This time, I managed to hit a tire, causing the car ahead to lose control and brake sharply. But it wasn't just any brake; they tried to cut us off. Luckily, Vega anticipated this maneuver and took control, sharply turning the wheel to the right, avoiding the overly clever driver.
"Thanks, friend," Kiwi smiled gratefully, regaining control of the car.
"I'll handle the stragglers behind us. There are still two kilometers to the finish line, and they have every chance to catch up to us," I said, leaning out the window once again, aiming at another vehicle trailing alongside us. Shooting from above and at high speed was, to put it mildly, uncomfortable. I had to wait until Kiwi raised us to the top before I could finally aim properly.
The cars trailing behind were already pretty beaten up. At some point, they began fighting each other. It seemed the racers realized that first place was ours, but they could still compete for second place. I didn't interfere much, keeping them in the sights of my pistol for the rest of the way. Only near the finish line did I finally allow myself to relax and get back inside the cabin.
We were greeted with all the appropriate respect for winners. People rushed onto the road, waving their arms joyfully, and some even tried to interview us. I felt distinctly uncomfortable, so I diligently avoided any conversation topics. Kiwi was in complete agreement with me on this.
"I didn't expect newcomers to take first place right away. Usually, your kind ends up in the nearest ditch," Bob extended his hand, transferring the previously announced 50,000 eddies to my account.
"You could say this isn't our first time at such events," I replied, nostalgically recalling our "races" with the Stilletos on the Pacific Highway.
"Haha, I get you, buddy," the nomad laughed, fully understanding my not-so-subtle hint. "You showed great driving today, and your crew managed not to kill anyone on the way. That's worth a lot, so if you ever want to race again, you're always welcome."
"We'll keep that in mind," I said, shaking the nomad's hand and turning to the now silent Kiwi. "Shall we go home?"
"Uh-huh," the blonde nodded and shuffled towards the car.
"See you," I waved goodbye and slipped into the cabin, away from prying eyes. "Let's go."