Time flies by after the uphill race. Clorinde had already parked her Lancia just before the tunnel, the vehicle glinting under the dim light like a coiled predator. She stepped out, stretching her arms and rolling her shoulders, savoring the brief calm. The stillness didn't last long. A roar pierced the air as Blade's car barreled into the lot, screeching to a halt just inches behind her own. The sharp scent of burned rubber mixed with the cool night air.
Blade threw his door open, stepping out with all the subtlety of a thunderstorm.
"Crazy ass! What the hell was that for!?" he barked, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. "You realize you could've killed us back there!? If I hadn't backed off, you'd have caused a mess that'd take a miracle to explain to everyone here!"
Clorinde turned slowly, her expression unreadable at first. Then, she scoffed, her lips curving into a smirk that practically dared him to keep going.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" she said, her voice low but laced with venom. "Don't tell me you actually believe that horseshit."
Blade faltered, stepping back slightly. His eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you trying to say?"
Clorinde tilted her head, the smirk deepening. "You seriously have no clue, do you? If you'd pulled your car all the way to the right, both of us could've squeezed through without a scratch. You know the course better than I do, don't you? Or has that thick skull of yours finally caught up with you?"
Blade's jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Clorinde took a step closer, her voice sharpening.
"I'd understand if the force pushed both of us into the guardrail, but it's a straightaway, Blade. A straight. Fucking. Away. I was two centimeters from the barricade, and there'd have been six to ten centimeters between us. You think my Lancia is the size of that rallying brick you call a car?"
"You can't possibly measure that while driving!" Blade snapped, frustration creeping into his tone.
Clorinde rolled her eyes, her scoff cutting through the air like a whip. "If you can't understand your own car's specs, this conversation is pointless. You want to bitch and whine? Do it on the course, not here. Prove it on the track instead of crying about my technique after the fact. Hell, maybe next time, try a full-speed braking contest—that'll show you what real street battles look like. Until then, you've got nothing to say to me. I'm done here."
Without another glance, she spun on her heel, her boots crunching against the gravel as she made her way back to her Lancia. The engine purred as she maneuvered it into the parking area, slotting it neatly beside Collei's Eight-Six.
As she stepped out, her mood shifted like flipping a switch. A wide grin broke across her face as she spotted Navia. Clorinde strode over, throwing her arms around her.
"You are a fucking legend. I can't thank you enough!"
Navia chuckled, returning the hug. "Just doing my job, sweetie."
Clorinde laughed, pulling back. "Damn right."
Across the lot, Kafka leaned against her R34, sighing as she watched Blade pacing and gesturing furiously into his phone. She shook her head, muttering under her breath, "Not surprised you lost, Blade. You're off your game. Feels like something snapped in you."
Her gaze drifted to Collei, who was chatting with Albedo near the Eight-Six. Kafka straightened, her expression softening. "Doesn't matter. I'll still race like I always do—with respect and dignity. Someone's got to."
Moments later, the starting line came into view as Kafka's R34 rolled up, Collei's Eight-Six close behind. Collei stepped out, stretching her arms one last time when Kafka approached her.
"Hey, kid," Kafka said, her voice calm but firm. "Name's Kafka. You?"
Collei set her jaw, her expression serious. "Collei."
Kafka nodded, glancing around briefly. Blade stood off to the side, phone pressed to his ear, his free hand clenched into a fist.
"Listen," Kafka said, her tone dropping to a low murmur. "Heads up. Blade's calling in some bruisers to rough up your friends after the race. You might want to warn them."
Collei's eyes narrowed, her fists clenching. "And why the hell should I trust you?"
Kafka sighed, the weight of her words evident. "Believe me or don't. It's all Blade's doing. I might be associated with that asshole, but I'm not like him. Not even close."
Collei studied her, the silence stretching as she weighed Kafka's sincerity. Finally, she nodded. "Fine. I'll let them know."
Kafka smiled faintly, stepping back. "Good. Good luck, kid. We'll both need it. If Blade finds out I told you, I'm screwed."
She turned, slipping into her R34 and shutting the door with a soft thud.
Collei wasted no time. She motioned to Albedo, who jogged over. "Collei?" he asked, concern flickering across his face. "You okay? You seem... twitchy."
"A bit," Collei admitted, her voice steady but tight. "Kafka gave me a heads-up. Blade's calling in some goons. Plans on giving us a beating after the race."
Albedo's eyes darkened, his tone cold. "What?"
"Let the others know," Collei said. "While the race is on."
Albedo nodded firmly. "Got it. You just focus on winning. Leave the rest to us."
Collei smirked, a fierce glint in her eye. "I was planning on it."
The two exchanged a quick high-five before Collei climbed into her Eight-Six. The moment she twisted the ignition key, the Group A engine roared to life, echoing through the lot like a battle cry.
"Time to give them hell," she muttered, gripping the wheel.
Engines roared to life as the crowd leaned forward in anticipation. Keqing stood at the starting line, her hand raised high, commanding everyone's attention.
"We're starting the race!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the rumble.
"FIVE!"
"FOUR!"
"THREE!"
"TWO!"
"ONE!"
"GO!"
Keqing dropped her hands, and the starting line exploded into motion. The R34 launched forward with a growl, its tires biting into the tarmac. The Eight-Six hesitated for just a split second before the high-pitched whine of its engine erupted, and it surged forward, determined not to lose the chase.
The two cars barreled downhill, their headlights slicing through the darkness. They approached the first right-hand turn with lightning speed. Kafka's R34 slid effortlessly through the corner, its weight shifting seamlessly as it hugged the road. Behind her, Collei's Eight-Six drifted with surgical precision, the rear tires kicking up a faint haze of dust as it exited the turn, gaining back precious milliseconds.
The race intensified as they tackled a sharp left-hand hairpin. Kafka's R34 powered through, its tires screaming against the asphalt. But Collei's Eight-Six, light and nimble, executed a flawless drift, closing the gap yet again.
Back at base, Ningguang stood with her arms crossed, a serene smile on her face as she watched the live feed on the monitors.
"I'm proud of both of them," she said. "At this point, they don't need my advice anymore. Their instincts will guide them. All they have to do is trust in it. But…" Her gaze turned sharp. "That R34 is still something we shouldn't underestimate."
The cars were deep into the course now, racing through a series of twisting corners. Kafka's R34 gripped the tarmac with ferocity, while the Eight-Six danced through the turns like a feather caught in the wind.
Inside the R34, Kafka stole a glance at her rearview mirror, her brows furrowed. "I'm surprised I'm holding my own against Speed Stars' Eight-Six. Not bad at all."
The track opened into a long straightaway, and Kafka floored it. The R34's turbocharged engine roared as the car surged forward, creating a gap. But the moment they reached the next corner, the gap began to shrink.
Collei's eyes narrowed, laser-focused. She braked late—later than anyone dared—her Eight-Six screaming into the corner. She initiated a perfect four-wheel drift, her tires brushing dangerously close to the edge. Spectators gasped in awe as the nimble car slid through the corner with almost reckless elegance.
"Look at that Eight-Six go!" a spotter shouted over the radio. "She's right on her tail!"
The two cars roared out of the hairpin and onto another straightaway.
Kafka allowed herself a small smile. "You're a damn good driver, Collei. Not bad at all."
Back at base, Keqing lowered her phone after a call from one of the spotters. She turned to Ningguang, her tone carrying a note of pride.
"Collei's doing great so far. That new braking technique of hers is blowing everyone's minds."
Clorinde chuckled from her spot against the wall. "Of course it is. What did you expect? She's been drilling it all week. By now, it's second nature."
Ningguang nodded thoughtfully. "True. The Eight-Six's braking system was fine-tuned with an emphasis on front-end bias. Whether it's downhill or flat-road braking, it leverages the car's lightweight body to its full potential. A skilled driver's foot can outperform ABS in certain conditions. But let's not forget—an R34 with a well-tuned engine can accelerate out of corners like a rocket. It won't take much for Kafka to widen the gap again. Collei's window of opportunity lies in exploiting the opponent's overconfidence in their braking ability."
Back on the course, the tension was mounting. Despite the R34's raw power, Collei's Eight-Six clawed back precious seconds with every corner. The two cars plunged into a serpentine S-curve, the Eight-Six closing in. Collei's front bumper was now dangerously close to Kafka's rear.
Kafka glanced at her rearview mirror, her eyes narrowing as a bead of sweat rolled down her temple. "Crap, she's right behind me. I can't shake her!"
She gritted her teeth, then allowed a small smirk to creep onto her lips. "It's fine. The midsection's coming up—fast-paced corners. That's my strength. I've still got a chance!"
With renewed determination, Kafka slammed her foot down, her R34 roaring as it surged forward. But no matter how hard she pushed, the Eight-Six stuck to her like glue.
The next hairpin loomed ahead. Kafka braked hard, her car sliding gracefully through the turn. She spared a glance in the mirror, only to see the Eight-Six storming through with shocking speed, once again closing the gap.
Spectators leaned forward, the tension palpable. The two cars shot out of the hairpin and into another high-speed section, their engines howling into the night.
Back at base, the tension in the air was thick as Albedo approached Clorinde and Keqing. His usual calm demeanor was strained, and the urgency in his steps caught their attention before he even spoke.
"Hey, Clorinde, Keqing," he called, his voice steady but tinged with concern.
Clorinde turned first, her brow furrowed. "What?" she muttered, the single word carrying a weight of expectation.
Keqing followed, crossing her arms. "What's going on?"
Albedo sighed heavily, glancing around to ensure no one else was eavesdropping. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before delivering the news.
"The girl, Kafka… she told Collei something right before the race started. Something that's… pretty alarming."
From behind, Ningguang's sharp gaze fixed on them, her eyes narrowing as she listened.
"What kind of alarming?" Keqing pressed.
Albedo hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Alright. Kafka told Collei that Blade called some of his… 'bruiser' cronies to come here. Apparently, they're planning to rough us up after Clorinde's win during the uphill race."
Keqing's eyes widened in shock. "You're kidding me!"
Albedo shook his head grimly. "I wish I were. But the chances of him bluffing? Near zero. We need to prepare for a full-on brawl if it comes to that."
Keqing groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Un-fucking-believable. He's a goddamn thug."
From the side, Ganyu stepped forward, her usually calm face now drawn with frustration. "How far is that loser willing to take this!?"
Clorinde didn't respond immediately. Her jaw clenched as her mind worked through the implications. Without a word, she turned on her heel and marched toward her Lancia Rally 037.
The others watched in silence as she reached the car and grabbed the door latch, yanking it open. Clorinde leaned inside, her movements deliberate and precise. When she emerged, she was holding a sleek, silver Beretta 92FS with polished wooden grips.
The group froze, their eyes fixed on the firearm.
Clorinde calmly removed the magazine, checking its load with a practiced ease. The magazine was full. She clicked it back into place, pulled the slide, and checked the safety. The metallic clack echoed through the lot, a sound that made the others shift uncomfortably.
Tucking the pistol securely into the waistband of her pants, leaving the handle partially exposed, Clorinde grabbed an extra magazine before slamming the Lancia's door shut.
She turned and strode back toward Keqing, Ganyu, and Albedo, her expression calm but unyielding.
Keqing's eyes widened, her voice unsteady as she pointed at Clorinde's waist. "I-Is that… a gun?"
Clorinde nodded, her voice firm. "That's right. I don't typically bring it out, but this situation? It's different. I had a hunch something like this might happen."
Albedo gasped, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What if they pull a gun on you?"
Clorinde smirked, her confidence radiating. "That's why I went to marksmanship school when I was younger. I know how to handle myself."
Ganyu raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "What else did you train in? Sword fighting, too?"
Clorinde chuckled, a dry humor lacing her tone. "Something like that. Martial arts and boxing, actually. Started when I was a kid."
Keqing took a small step back, her voice filled with disbelief. "No kidding. So you're… you're a fighter?"
Clorinde laughed lightly, the tension in the air easing slightly. "You could say that, yeah. Let's just say the bullies at my old high school didn't dare mess with me."
From behind, Ningguang let out a sigh, a mixture of relief and exasperation. "Good thing we have a marksman on our side." She looked at Clorinde with a faint smile. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
Clorinde met her gaze, her tone steady. "It won't—unless they force my hand."
The group fell silent, the weight of the situation sinking in. For now, all they could do was wait—and hope the race ended without chaos erupting.
Back on the course, the battle between Collei and Kafka reached its boiling point. The final sectors of the downhill loomed ahead, and the tension between the two drivers was palpable.
Collei's eyes stayed glued to the R34 in front of her, her grip firm on the wheel. Her breathing was steady, controlled, even as adrenaline coursed through her veins.
"I can keep up with her no problem," she muttered, her focus sharp. "But it's not just the car I need to worry about—it's the driver."
For a split second, her mind flashed back to a memory of the Yougou downhill, the moment when Arlecchino had overtaken her by copying her signature gutter run. The sting of that loss lingered, but it also served as a lesson.
"And hey," she thought to herself, smirking, "she's not in the same league as Dad. Now that was fucking tough."
The present snapped back into focus as they barreled into another corner. Kafka's R34 braked early, her tail lights flaring in the dark. Collei saw the opening immediately and braked late, her Eight Six inching closer and closer to the R34's rear bumper.
"Compared to Dad," Collei muttered under her breath, "she brakes like someone's fucking grandfather."
The cars shot out of the turn, and Collei's instincts sharpened. Every movement Kafka made behind the wheel revealed just a little more.
They hit a left-hand turn, the roar of their engines echoing off the mountain walls. Collei's eyes widened as realization struck.
"I can see your weakness!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with confidence. "It's so obvious!"
Her gaze narrowed, a fiery determination sparking within. "Your braking technique sucks ass!"
The gap closed further as they entered a tight left-hand hairpin. Collei's Eight Six was now mere centimeters from the R34's rear bumper, the tension between the two cars thick enough to cut with a knife.
Kafka glanced in her rearview mirror, her expression twisted with frustration. "Dammit! This kid is starting to get on my nerves!"
They reached the infamous right-hand hairpin, the very same corner where Clorinde's Lancia had wrecked just the day before. Kafka hugged the inside line tightly, aiming for precision—but the moment she began her turn, disaster struck.
The R34 understeered violently, the front tires losing grip and pushing the car toward the outside.
"What the hell!?" Kafka shouted, panic flashing across her face. "Where's my grip!?"
Collei's eyes lit up with opportunity. "This is my chance!" she growled, slamming her foot back on the gas.
The Eight Six shot forward like a missile, its agile frame darting past the struggling R34 with ease.
Kafka's knuckles whitened as she gripped the wheel. Her voice seethed with anger. "Fuck you, Blade! Your damn oil nearly wrecked me!"
The two cars exited the hairpin, hurtling toward the next left-hand turn.
Kafka's expression hardened as she regained her composure. "I still have a chance to pass her!"
The final straightaway loomed ahead, and Kafka made her move, pulling to the outside to try and overtake the Eight Six. Her R34 roared as she pushed it to the limit, creeping closer to Collei's car.
But then came the final right-hand hairpin.
Kafka hit the brakes hard, hoping to maintain control through the turn. The R34 slowed sharply, giving Collei the lead. But what happened next left Kafka speechless.
Collei didn't brake.
Kafka's eyes widened in disbelief. "She's going in without braking!?"
At the last possible moment, Collei slammed her foot on the brakes, yanking the wheel hard to the right. The Eight Six obeyed, entering a seamless four-wheel drift without countersteer.
The car slid effortlessly into the hairpin, the tires screaming against the asphalt. Collei's focus never wavered as she slammed her foot back onto the gas, propelling the Eight Six forward with breathtaking speed.
The drift was flawless, the Eight Six behaving almost like a four-wheel-drive car. The crowd lining the course erupted in cheers as Collei exited the hairpin with precision and power.
Kafka was left in awe, her hands slack on the wheel as she eased off the gas. "I don't believe this…" she muttered, shaking her head. "That kid is something else."
The final stretch was a formality. Collei's Eight Six dominated, taking the checkered flag with ease. The crowd roared as the race officially ended.
Team Speed Stars had obliterated Blade's team, proving their skill despite having half the practice time.
But the night was far from over.
Time passed, and the two cars finally returned to base, the engines cutting off with a soft hum as they rolled into the garage.
Keqing hung up the phone, the call with one of their spotters still fresh in her mind. She had the news they feared.
"Blade wasn't bluffing," Keqing said, her voice sharp. "Five suspicious-looking cars are headed up now."
The tension in the room thickened, and Keqing's gaze quickly shifted to Ningguang, who stood calmly by the table, a calculating expression on her face. "What should we do?"
Ningguang exhaled a long sigh, a rare crack in her usually controlled demeanor. "Well, looks like Blade defaulted on our next challenge." She paused, her tone turning serious. "Get ready to move out. The team's safety is our top priority right now. No heroics, understood?"
The team, each with their own roles and responsibilities, nodded in acknowledgment, their faces steely with determination. Well, everyone except Clorinde, who gave a subtle but defiant tilt of her head.
"Yes, Ningguang," they all echoed.
Ningguang's gaze swept over the team before fixing on Keqing. "Keqing," she began, her voice firm, "when the shit hits the fan, me and Clorinde will distract them. You and the rest of the team—get all the cars out of here, except the Lancia. We'll handle the rest."
Keqing's face hardened at the words. "No way in hell, Ningguang."
Ningguang let out another sigh, this one more resigned than frustrated. "Look. It's only a matter of time before they get here. I'm the leader of this team, and that means I make the calls. I knew the risks when I started Team Speed Stars, and I'm prepared to face them. You're gonna have to trust me on this one."
There was a brief silence as her words sank in. Then, a smirk tugged at the corners of Ningguang's lips. "Remember, Clorinde is a marksman. If it comes down to the worst-case scenario, she'll handle herself. Hell, she's the 'Champion Duelist.'"
Clorinde's eyes glinted with amusement at the title. "That's a name I haven't heard in years," she remarked with a smirk that was half nostalgia and half challenge.
Keqing groaned, rubbing her temples as the reality of the situation weighed on her. "I got you. You're one helluva driver—and a friend, Clorinde."
Ganyu, always the one to lighten the mood, grinned and turned to Clorinde. "Come on, let's go beat the shit out of them together!"
Clorinde shot her a serious, no-nonsense look that could freeze water. "How about I kick your ass instead?"
Ganyu blinked, her excitement faltering just slightly as she sighed. "I was really trying to avoid that, you know."
Before the conversation could spiral further into chaos, Collei approached Ningguang, her expression earnest and determined. "I'm staying with you too."
Ningguang's eyes softened, but she immediately shook her head, her voice unwavering. "I appreciate the offer, Collei, but your safety matters more than anything right now. Don't make this harder than it already is."
Collei hesitated but nodded, the fire in her eyes not entirely dimming. "Alright, but I'll be ready if you need me."
Ningguang's gaze hardened once more as the sound of engines could be heard in the distance, approaching rapidly. "We don't have much time. Get in position. We move out on my mark."
The air was thick with the sound of revving engines as the team braced themselves for the chaos that was about to unfold.
The sound of engines roared in the distance, drawing closer. Clorinde's sharp eyes flicked to the horizon.
"Here they come!" she called out, her voice tinged with anticipation.
Keqing nodded, her face hardening as she yelled, "Everyone! In the vehicles! Get ready to move out!"
Albedo and Keqing climbed into Van One, while Navia and Ganyu piled into Van Two. The rest of the team quickly filed into Vans Three and Four, their movements practiced and swift. Collei slid into her Eight-Six, the car she had come to trust, bracing herself for what could be a chaotic night.
The roar of the engines was unmistakable now. Five cars appeared over the crest of the hill, the headlights casting long shadows. The lead car, a stock Toyota Century in black, was flanked by four more: a Subaru Legacy, a Toyota Cresta, a Nissan President, and a Toyota Crown.
The convoy of cars screeched to a halt, blocking the road entirely. The Outbound route, their only clear escape, was now sealed off.
Blade's voice broke the tense silence, his laughter echoing across the road. "Looks like they're about to get a real beating!" he jeered.
His crew chuckled, but there was one notable absence—Kafka was nowhere to be seen. She was hiding, waiting with Team Speed Stars, ready to strike if necessary.
The gang climbed out of their cars, and the leader emerged from the Toyota Century. A woman with long, light purple hair streaked with white, exuding a cold but confident aura.
Clorinde checked her gun one last time before calling out to Ningguang. "Sit tight, Ningguang. I've got this handled."
Clorinde turned on her heel and walked toward the leader, her gun casually hanging at her side. Collei, in her Eight-Six, sat frozen, her hands shaking slightly as she prepared for the worst.
The two women walked slowly toward each other, the distance between them closing with each measured step. Clorinde, her gun still in hand, approached the woman with unwavering confidence. The girl's face remained unreadable as she stood with her Gardiennage behind her, the silent guardians watching the tense exchange.
Finally, their faces were revealed under the dim light of the streetlamp overhead.
Clorinde smirked, a hint of recognition in her eyes. "I had a feeling it'd be you, Chevreuse."
Blade and his crew gasped in unison. "Huh?"
Chevreuse smiled, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "So did I. It's good to see you again, Clorinde."
To Blade and his team's utter shock, the two women exchanged a handshake, leaving the men speechless.
Clorinde chuckled. "What the hell happened to you? Hanging out with the wrong crowd again, Chevreuse?"
Chevreuse laughed, a sound that felt like old times. "No, not at all. I don't run with them. You know how I am. After our marksmanship training when we were teens, I started a small security agency. Just so happens my company guards their mechanic shop…" Her eyes narrowed, her gaze sharpening. "But from the looks of things, it seems your little friend here has been disrespecting you."
Clorinde sighed, her tone heavy with exasperation. "No kidding. You might want to take a look at this."
She gestured for Chevreuse to follow her, and led her to the back of her battered Lancia Rally 037. She pointed to the rear fiberglass engine trunk, still taped together on the left side. "Yesterday, Blade here decided to let his 'friends' spill oil all over the course during our practice runs."
Chevreuse's face twisted into a grimace. "Ouch. Was it bad?"
Clorinde nodded, her expression serious. "Worse."
Without another word, she popped open the trunk of the Lancia's support van and showed Chevreuse the damaged suspension components. "The damage was extensive. It ripped the entire rear left suspension apart. The drive shaft's wrecked too, which means some unseen damage to the gearbox."
Chevreuse let out a sharp sigh, her frustration evident. "I can't believe this."
Clorinde closed the van's trunk with a soft thud. "Yeah, but as far as I'm concerned, the old gal still beats his ass on the race."
She turned, her eyes scanning the road. "Can you get your men to move their cars off the road? It's getting them all agitated."
Chevreuse smiled, her voice commanding. "Of course!" She lifted her chin and shouted, "Alright! Get these vehicles out of the road!"
Her team responded in unison, "Yes, Ma'am!" They jumped into their cars and drove them into the nearby tunnel, parking them neatly in a single file.
With the road cleared, Chevreuse's attention snapped back to Blade, her eyes hardening. "Now that that's out of the way, I think someone might want to reconsider their freedom rights…"
The members of Team Speed Stars began to exit their vehicles and regroup, walking toward Clorinde.
Keqing spoke first, her voice full of disbelief. "How in the hell… Don't tell me you actually know them!?"
Clorinde flushed, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "Oh, she's an old training buddy from marksmanship school. We go way back."
Keqing exhaled a relieved sigh, her shoulders relaxing. "Thank god for that. We definitely dodged a major bullet."
On the other side of the road, things weren't quite as friendly.
Blade held his hands up in mock surrender as Chevreuse started barking orders at him. "What the hell were you thinking!? Messing around with them!? Do you realize causing an accident on purpose is a crime!? Are you forgetting something!? We're associated with the police! My company's based in the Narukami Prefecture! We could have you arrested, you idiot!"
Blade twitched, fear creeping into his voice. "We—We didn't know! Honest!"
Keqing strolled over to Blade, her lips curling into a smug smile. "By the way. We're not coming back for the time trials. We checked the times we posted. The records have been shattered. Have fun in prison!"
She turned on her heel, calling out to her team. "Alright! Time to head out!"
As Team Speed Stars prepared to leave, the night that had seemed endless finally began to draw to a close. The roar of their engines echoed through Asase Pass, their victory clear. Team Speed Stars had once again proven their dominance, and the road was theirs.