Inside the air-conditioned space, six LCD screens broadcasted live images of the different points along the race route of the Impulse Cup. Some of the camera drones used night vision when needed, especially at the entrance of tunnels and around difficult bends. This year’s goal? The bottom of Mount Giga. Computer screens at one end of the semi monitored the latest stats, rankings on the new Driver’s Index, and the bets placed for the final leg of the race. The guys shook hands before taking their seats on two identical swivel chairs. They clamped on their headsets and positioned their microphones directly in front of their lips.
The guy in suspenders raised three fingers and counted down. The other tipped his fedora at him, acknowledging the beginning of their broadcast. They each flicked a switch and a red light above the door buzzed on.
“Goood evening, Terra One! Gotta love the smell of exhaust in the evening,” fedora guy hollered. The screen solely for the race route showed the gathered crowd cheering. One of the jumbo TVs along the mountainside flicked to the two commentators within their studio, then switched to a graphic depicting the race. “Welcome to the fifth stage of this year’s long-awaited Impulse Cup. The final battlefield. Six drivers remain. One winner. Officially sponsored by Prime Lubricant. If it’s not Prime, then you’re not properly lubricated. I’m Larry Litelore, with my partner—”
“Cornelius Cutterclass,” the other jumped in, “bringing you all the latest from our studio just outside the finish line. Rally girls, you know where to find us. Can someone be a doll and bring refreshments?”
Despite chuckling at his partner’s request, Larry focused his attention on the screens. “We’d like to divert your attention to the leaders of this race. They’ve almost reached the summit.”
Cornelius sat back and hooked his thumbs on his suspenders. “Going to be an epic battle, this one.”
“An SF versus an SS?” Larry flipped a switch, and the LCD at the bottom right switched pictures from the crowd to the summit of Mount Giga. The cars made a U-turn. One white as a cloudy sky, the other black as a moonless night. Both powerful. Both driven by devils behind the wheel. “Tonight marks the first official race between Ace and RC. A fitting end to the dramatic events of this year’s Impulse Cup. I’m still getting over the shock of her pushing Bedlam against the rails at the fourth stage just so she can gain second place. This after making their relationship public six months ago.”
“Women are scary, scary creatures. I never would have thought she’d have the guts to challenge him that way. Guess she showed us. Love takes a back seat when a woman is on a mission.”
“That’s why we have a race worthy of prime-time viewership tonight. The Street Fighter and the Super Snake are both powerful cars in their own right.” He focused a camera on the cars. “If you haven’t placed your bets yet, you’re too late.”
“I see this as being a tough fight for RC, who’s being reported as still struggling with the ankle she broke months ago. She’s wanted to race against Ace since their first season as road racers. Things will definitely get interesting.” Cornelius swallowed. “In a squeal of tires, Ace leads this classic cat and mouse downhill battle into the first corner. Despite being detuned, that SF is capable of pulling away if RC lets it.”
“The question is: will RC manage to pass the SF before they reach the base of Mount Giga?”
“From that start, it seems the drivers have predetermined who leads.” Cornelius replayed the footage. “It’s clear that the Super Snake is pulling back while the SF takes the lead.”
Larry whipped his head to face his partner. “But that’s a great risk for RC to take, considering the odds are already stacked up against her. New car? Barely healed injury? Ace, in better shape with excellent control over his car, can easily pull away from her.”
“Just look at that parallel drift.” Cornelius pointed at the center screen. “Does that look like someone unable to keep up with the SF? I believe she’s managed to control the oversteer of that creature she calls a car.”
“At the exit of the first set of S-curves, Ace pulls away. That guy knows not to look back.” Larry tipped his hat at the monitors, then replaced it on his head. “Is the Super Snake outmatched by the Street Fighter?”
“From the sound of that engine? I don’t think so.” Cornelius jutted out his lower lip. “If this was the Cannon Ball on the freeway, Ace would win for sure. But it’s not. Remember, RC is a downhill specialist. She knows how to find the perfect line down this particular path, having driven it countless times.”
“RC is gaining as they enter the first inclined straight. The weight of her car is certainly an asset here.”
“Not necessarily.” Cornelius pushed a button that highlighted the SF. “Ace’s car is significantly lower, giving it more aerodynamics, hence a faster car on the straight.”
“From the way you’re talking you might as well declare this race, Corn.” Larry glared. “You seem confident that Ace will win.”
Cornelius waved away the derision coming from the guy beside him. “I’m merely looking at the scenario fairly. In terms of driving ability, Ace is superior to RC. He’s won the IC three years in a row. That’s why Bedlam keeps challenging him.” He kept his hand raised, halting any rebuttal Larry may have. “I also acknowledge the immense talent in RC. And we’re not talking about my obvious bias toward her. She’s definitely a driver worth racing against.”
Cowed by the explanation, Larry watched the race unfold. “They’re entering Suicide Curve now.”
“Ace is breaking late, tackling the corner aggressively, while RC seems to cruise into the curve.” Cornelius displayed a graphic of Suicide Curve. “As
