The NASCAR arena was alive with energy, a cacophony of cheers, music, and the ever-present roar of engines revving in the distance. Elton and Ethan stepped out of their car, immediately engulfed by the wave of enthusiastic fans. Banners waved high, and the crowd buzzed with excitement. The cheerleaders—dressed in scant, skin-tight uniforms—moved with an intensity that only heightened the atmosphere. Mixed among them were a few men in green and white checkered shorts, ardent fans who had no shame in showing their devotion to the sport.
But the frenzy seemed to pass right over Elton and Ethan. Their destination was ahead—a sleek black race car standing as a monument to power and precision. Next to it stood a man that drew every eye in the crowd. Golden hair, lean frame, and a confident aura that could be felt from a distance. His neck was adorned with a totem necklace and a cross chain, both gleaming in the midday sun. His calm, powerful demeanor radiated like an invisible force field.
This was Prost Johnson.
His reputation preceded him—he was a man to be feared, admired, respected. But despite rumors of his illness, Prost looked as vital as ever, a fact that made the crowd's adulation even louder. With a simple gesture, he removed his sunglasses, revealing a pair of intense brown eyes, aged and worn by experience. For a moment, his gaze swept over to Ethan, a brief, almost incidental glance, but one that made Ethan's heart race.
Ethan couldn't shake the feeling. There was something about Prost—something familial, like an older brother you could trust to stand between you and the world. His presence wasn't menacing but protective, as if he would take all the hits first.
Then, with a quick nod, Prost replaced his sunglasses and turned toward his car, his composure unshaken, his movement as fluid as the race he was about to dominate.
"Prost Johnson! Oh my god! The legend!"
The shrill voice cut through the noise, and Ethan flinched. It was Vanka, charging through the crowd with all the subtlety of a runaway freight train. His bright, multicolored outfit—clearly inspired by some circus performance—made him stand out like a clown at a formal event. His arms flailed, his voice carried, and people turned to stare, unable to ignore the spectacle.
Ethan sighed, wishing he could sink into the ground.
"Vanka, Vanka, over here," Ethan muttered, trying not to draw more attention but hoping to cut the scene short.
"Who's calling me?" Vanka's voice boomed, completely undeterred by the stares of the crowd. A few of the cheerleaders turned, whispering and giggling. One tall blonde with a high ponytail laughed so hard she doubled over, clutching her stomach. But Vanka, oblivious, puffed out his chest, taking pride in his outlandish appearance.
Ethan rubbed his temple. Vanka wasn't just loud—he was wearing his eccentricity like armor, basking in the attention. Today, he was determined to catch the eye of Prost Johnson.
"Over here, Vanka," Ethan said, raising a hand in a half-hearted wave, hoping to divert the attention away from him.
Vanka barreled through the crowd like a runaway boulder, his multicolored outfit flapping in the wind. Ethan took a step back, making sure to avoid being caught in Vanka's chaotic wake.
"You missed him," Ethan said, raising his hand to block Vanka from getting too close. "Prost's already gone inside."
Vanka's face fell for a moment, but then his usual exuberance returned. "What?! I knew I shouldn't have taken that damn automated rail! I swear, it was so fast I must've blinked and missed five stops!" He wiped his brow, his costume making him sweat buckets in the midday heat.
"But I'm not here just for Prost, Ethan," Vanka said, beaming. "Look at this!" With a dramatic flourish, he unfurled a massive banner that read Ethan Will Win! At the end, however, it was signed with Vanka's own personal branding.
Ethan stared at the banner, then at Vanka, his face a mix of disbelief and exhaustion.
A soft cough interrupted them. Elton had been watching the whole exchange in silence. His steady presence was always reassuring, and as he stepped forward, he laid a hand on Ethan's shoulder, his voice firm but soft.
"It's time," Elton said, his voice cutting through the noise of the crowd. "This is the real battlefield, son. Stay sharp."
Ethan felt a chill run through him. Elton's hand on his shoulder was a simple gesture, but it carried the weight of a thousand words. Ethan straightened, feeling the pressure of the moment building.
"I'm not ready," Ethan muttered, his eyes scanning the crowd. Anxiety gnawed at him. "Not without Aria. I can't do this without her."
His voice, though quiet, was filled with tension. He felt the weight of the upcoming race pressing down on him, harder with every passing second. His eyes continued to dart through the sea of faces, searching.
Elton's gaze followed Ethan's for a moment before turning back to the car. He knelt beside it, checking the tires, ensuring everything was in place. "Don't let your mind wander. She'll be here when it counts. You've trained for this moment, Ethan. Focus."
Ethan's breath came in short bursts as he tried to steady his nerves. He rubbed his hands together, feeling the chalky powder clump in his palms. His hands, coated thick with the grip powder, felt strange, almost foreign to him. His palms were a stark white, like he had dipped them in paint. It made him feel detached from the machine he was supposed to control.
"Where is she?" he murmured again, scanning the faces of the crowd. "Aria..."
Far from the noise of the crowd, hidden in the shadows of the far end of the racetrack, Aria stood waiting. Her eyes weren't on the race. She had a different purpose today, waiting for a meeting with someone important.
A man in a black baseball cap, masked and wearing dark brown sunglasses, was approaching Aria. His eyes darted around, his steps brisk, like a fugitive constantly fearing the arrival of the police. Aria wasn't intimidated by his mysterious appearance; after all, she was here to meet him.
As soon as he got close, the man roughly pulled her into a shadowed corner by a foul-smelling garbage pit. The air was thick with decay, and the buzzing of flies was incessant, adding to Aria's growing irritation. But she remained calm.
The man swiftly pulled off his mask, revealing the face she hadn't seen in ages—it was Leander.
"Shh, keep quiet, Aria." Leander's voice was tense as he pressed his wide hand over her mouth. His long fingers trembled slightly, betraying the immense pressure he was under.
Aria jerked free from his hand and swatted at the annoying flies buzzing around her. "What's with all the mystery? You'd better say everything in one go—and fast! Today is important, and if you waste my time, I'll show you just how hard my fist can hit."
She glanced at her watch; Ethan's race was about to start. Her anxiety spiked, making her feel restless, like ants on a hot pan.
Leander removed his sunglasses, revealing his bloodshot eyes, eerily red like a vampire's. His eyes bulged unnaturally, making him look terrifying. Even the usually fearless Aria was taken aback by his appearance.
"Jesus, man, how long have you been without sleep? You look awful," Aria said, stepping back warily.
"There's no time, Aria. Listen to me—they're catching up to us. We're out of time!" Leander's words spilled out in a rush, his fingers twitching nervously as if counting down. His hands looked skeletal, stiff like dead branches, betraying his exhaustion and fear.
"Who's chasing us?" Aria's face suddenly stiffened, her left hand unconsciously gripping her right arm in a protective gesture.
"Aria, what I'm about to tell you will sound unbelievable, but I swear it's the truth." Leander's eyes grew more frantic, his wide stare boring into her, as if trying to pull her into his fear.
"You and I—we don't belong here. We live in 2024. This place? It's just a program I developed. You remember the sleep pod, don't you? That was my gaming system. In 2024, you and I are together, Aria. We're a couple. One day, I invited you into my studio to test my new game. Do you remember?" Leander grabbed her arm, his words coming out in an excited rush.
"A sleep pod… Yes, my memories do begin with a sleep pod. I don't recall anything about my childhood or school life at all," Aria thought to herself, starting to reconsider Leander's wild claims.
"You're lying! We're clones, bred in Omega Labs. We exist only to provide organs and blood for the originals when they need it." Aria's voice wavered as she desperately tried to counter Leander's story.
"Aria, they've been lying to you! Wilson, Bart—they're all characters I wrote into the game, obstacles in the system. The desert we escaped, the private hospital we built—it's all just part of the game's world. We don't belong here, Aria. We need to get back to the real world!" Leander's voice grew frantic as he waved his hands wildly, trying to make her see.
"The real world?" Aria's eyes glistened with unshed tears. The hardships and injustices she had endured flooded her mind, and for the first time in a long while, the tough-as-nails woman broke down, crying like a child.
"Don't cry, Aria. We're almost there. But first, we need to get rid of the virus. That virus is Ethan. He's a bug I wrote into the game, designed to keep you here longer, to trap us in this virtual world forever." Leander's voice turned dark, his words filled with bitterness.
"Ethan… a virus? How is that possible? Fine, Leander, even if what you're saying is true, how do you prove it?" Aria's tears dried as she demanded proof, still harboring doubts.
"Fine, Aria. I'll tell you something only I would know. You have a mole under your left buttock, the size of a soybean." Leander turned his head slightly, waiting for her reaction.
Aria froze. That was a secret no one knew—not even Ethan. She stood there, stunned, unable to move.
"So, everything he said is true? We're really trapped inside a gaming pod's system, stuck in this virtual world?" The buzzing of the flies around her no longer registered; her mind was racing.
"What do we do next?" Aria asked, her voice shaky.
"Follow my plan, Aria. Head back now, and after the race, lure Ethan to the rooftop of the skyscraper. Once we're there, we can finally return to the real world," Leander said, his eyes filled with determination as if everything was falling into place.