Zero in the Ranks

The thunderous roar of the super-charged V8 engine rumbled to life. Its underglow strobed, syncopated with the growling of the engine. The gauges were checked; everything appeared to be in order. “Well, Zero? Ready to roll?” a voice came from the car’s speakers. “Hey O-Two, I’m ready. Are you?” was the inquiry directed towards the car’s AI. After a momentary buzzing of the speakers, the reply came, “All systems nominal, ready.” He responded with a grin. “And… the surprise package?” O-Two answered in a calm tone, “Deployed and ready for activation.”

The announcer shouted something into the megaphone, but Zero’s insulation was too good, making it impossible to hear. He didn’t care. Revving his engine, the purple underglow pulsed in time with the RPM. Beside him, a dark green and purple Challenger idled, its windows tinted too dark to see the driver. Though he had never met the driver of the Joker before, the vehicle’s reputation significantly preceded it.

Despite rumors implying that no one had ever conversed with him, some speculated that the Joker had multiple drivers and was supported by an organization. ‘Nonetheless, we, the crawlers, will run the city,’ he assured himself. No other organization possessed the resources and power that the crawlers did. Zero lowered his window; the green and purple challenger’s supercharger screeched like a banshee. The driver behind the blacked-out windows warmed his engine in preparation for the race.

“His windows remained closed, there was no reaction from him. “I’ll destroy him!” O-two responded to his comment. “Zero, should I concentrate on the Joker?” Zero pondered this request briefly. “No, this race isn’t significant enough to marshal all our resources, but instruct the inspector to keep him at bay.” There was silence from the AI, and then the inspector’s voice echoed through Zero’s speakers. “You want me to do what, exactly?”

Zero squinted. “Keep the Joker at bay, body-block him.” He saw a low-rider pulling up in the mirror. Sparks flew as its sunframe grated against the pavement, emitting an irritating screech. He quickly closed his windows. ‘Damn floor inspector and his low riders..’ After a little while, the announcer advanced to the front. About a dozen cars, in chaotically disorganized order, lined up for the race.

To the side, a mini with an extra set of wheels protruding from its sides stood. It boasted a logo of spider’s webs on its windows and a hunter-spider wrap on the car body, clear indicators of the Lurker-races. These were underground night races where organizations and freelancers alike determined the city’s fate. The night’s race promised a significant monetary prize. The announcer shouted, the flag was raised, and a moment later, the lights of the entire city block extinguished. Tires screeched, engines growled, and the race began.

Zero rode hard as O-Two consistently relayed the positions of the most threatening contenders in this race. Victory was crucial for the Crawlers; the substantial monetary prize would result in a hefty bonus for him. “Sharp-right leading into U-Turn left,” reported O-Two, as the Heads Up Display (HUD) on his windshield brightened. “Noted, deploy the flashbang in the turn,” commanded Zero. Lurker-Races allowed the use of non-lethal crowd control measures, and flashbangs were among the driver’s preferred methods for distracting opponents.

As he approached the turn and slowed, preparing to deploy the flashbang, a small kit-car zoomed past him. It had a striking resemblance to a dune-buggy, but was equipped with race slicks for tires. He glanced to his right and spotted a short girl at the wheel, the name ‘Staller’ emblazoned on the vehicle’s door. He slammed on his brakes to avoid a collision as she almost rammed into him, taking the turn at breakneck speed. When she accelerated out of it like a bullet, he pressed his foot to the floor in a desperate attempt to catch up. “O-Two,” he instructed, “Prepare the package.”

Though it seemed unnecessary, as the camera drone was about to take off, he noticed the staller’s sudden decrease in speed. Skillfully, he maneuvered the steering wheel and pedals to dodge her as she began swaying on the road in an attempt to body block him. As he passed her, he glanced into her panicked face. True to her name, Staller had indeed stalled out.

Bursting into laughter, he exclaimed, “Who is that girl? She’s an absolute maniac on the road, but doesn’t know how to handle the car at all.” O-Two fell silent for a moment. “From my research, she’s been nicknamed ‘The Staller’,” he said, “remarkable for her profound ability to stall in everything she does. Sometimes, she stalls even at the start line or when leaving the house. Interestingly, her record stands at 0 victories and 27 losses.”

Zero laughed once more at the intel, quickly regaining his focus. He admired the ‘spider’ behind him, noting its creative use of additional wheels to improve cornering. Unfortunately, his admiration was short-lived, given he could only see it vaguely in the rearview mirror. The spider’s top speed was nowhere near enough to keep up with Zero’s V8. However, there were a couple of others on the track with more power than him.

On the long straight, one of them caught up. It was an older, bug-shaped car, black in color with yellow daisies painted on it. Its driver, a lover of flowers, ran a pure ethanol twin-charged inline six. The car’s small size and lightweight provided an insane power-to-weight ratio. Like most drivers in this race, she too relished the camera’s attention. Though the races were rarely streamed, when they were, it mattered significantly.

“O-Two, deploy the package…” – “Roger that,” replied the AI. A small hatch on the back opened up, releasing a camera drone. It quickly buzzed toward the rapidly approaching car, painted with daisies, and began circling it. A small screen unfolded from the drone, displaying a number. “72k!? WHOAA! Today’s race is quite popular, huh?” exclaimed the driver, who then began to wave at the camera. “Hey, guys! Love you all! Hope you’re enjoying the show.”

Zero chuckled, watching a small video stream from the faux stream-drone cameras. “One kilometer left in the race, two more turns, then a long stretch,” reported O-Two. “Noted,” grinned Zero, skillfully navigating the turns. He relaxed, confident victory was within his grasp. However, as he calmly rode towards the finish line, a banshee—or what sounded like one—flew past him. Doubling his speed on this long straight, the Joker made a run for the finish, leaving Zero enveloped in exhaust fumes.

Zero knew all efforts would be futile; the finish line would be crossed by the Joker before he even had the time to activate a nitros shot. He accepted his defeat, yet his anger boiled. The race was over and the victor decided. Joker’s undeniable supremacy in the Lurker-races triumphed once more. That evening at the pub, Zero found no reason to celebrate. Instead, he schemed and planned, yearning for revenge.

“Quite the show you put on today, Mute, brother,” Jason said. However, the only response was a silent thumbs up from underneath the car. Jason admired Mute under the green and purple color-schemed vehicle and smiled. “What are you up to?” he inquired. A wordless finger pointed towards a box with a set of motor and transmission oils. “Ah, need some help?” he asked, to which another thumbs up was his answer. Jason aided Mute in changing the oil, and when the task was completed, he directed a smirk at the hood. “Rumors say that the Day Walkers are backing Joker,” he commented.

Mute, a bulky bearded man, wiped his hands on a rag and shrugged. He pointed towards a bag filled with cash; a small note was resting on top. Jason checked the note, which read ‘For the 9th Street Hooligans and the Little Star Orphanage.’ He smiled weakly and glanced over his shoulder at Mute, his brother. He questioned, “Sure?” to which Mute responded with a firm nod.

Jason exited the shop, a bag of cash, the race winnings, in hand. “Mute emerged victorious once more. The winnings stood at 500 thousand Lenaro, however…” A suited man reported the results to a blonde woman. She was clad in a red top and pencil skirt, sitting cross-legged, giving him scant attention while she evaluated paperwork spread across her desk.

“But?” she queried.

“Err… to our surprise, the Crawlers organization was also partaking in that race, ma’am, and they’re thoroughly disgruntled.”

“Not our problem, is it?” The man in the suit hesitated – “Well… yes and no… I mean… we support Mute and the Joker… and well, rumors are spreading that we support them.” She raised her head from the paperwork. “Firstly, Vod, when did you start daring to talk back to me? Secondly, we don’t officially support them, we merely supply them with parts. So if any Crawlers happen to crawl in here, tell them to learn to walk first. We have no affiliation with the Joker.”

Delivering money, the 9th street hooligans, as they were commonly known, appreared merely as a group of kids banded together, abandoned by their parents, and ousted from their orphanage. Mute, who grew up on the same streets, chose to become a Lurker-racer, a means of supporting those children who faced an uncertain future. In return, these kids guaranteed his safety. They provided him with any essential intelligence and rumors, ensuring his garage remained concealed and protected. To them, he was Rob’in their Hood.

“Mute! Mute!” A winded teenage voice called out, standing in the doorway to Joker’s garage. “Mmmhh?” Mute replied, laying in a hammock on the other side of the shop. The teenager hesitated. “Uhm.. well, the guy from the Crawler organization sent something. Take a look.”

He approached the hammock, extending a flyer. Mute glanced at it. It sported a picture of the Joker and Zero’s O-Two confronting each other, complemented by bold, large text. The proclamation read, ‘O-Two vs Joker! Legendary duel!!! No rules!!! No judges! A race to the bitter end! One victor, one loser! Watch as a new legend rises from the ashes of the old.’ Mute responded by furrowing his eyebrows, murmuring, “Hngg… N…” He then shook his head, making the nearby kid anxious.

Below the text was a location and a date: ’06/06: Abandoned industrial region’. This was a challenge, an invitation for a duel. The Crawlers would not leave him alone now that they had noticed him. He clenched his teeth, looked at the kid, and replied in a hushed voice, “Ys! Rst.” The kid nodded, “Aye, rest well, Mute… Need anything? We’ll fetch it while you sleep.” The race is in three days; he has time to prepare. “Ltr.” As night fell, the preparation began.

What concerned Mute the most was the ‘no rules’ claim on the flyer. This meant he had to be prepared for any eventuality. Armored windows, reinforced titanium brakes, titanium skid-plates, and inserts in the main body panels were all needed. Including a blast diversion kit and flat-run tires, the list was extensive and costly. However, it was the massiveness that troubled him the most. So heavy indeed, that it necessitated an additional 200 kilowatts of power to make up for the increased weight, forcing the Joker to scrape together the extra energy.

Mute, along with his brother Jason, was diligently preparing for the duel, adding oil sprayers as a defensive measure. The day-walkers provided them with necessary parts, stepping up to support their cause. With both lives and reputation on the line, Mute could not afford any unnecessary risks. The night before, he roamed the city widely, acquainting himself with the car’s handling. Unlike Zero, who enhanced his skills with AI and tech augmentation, Mute was of the old school—relying purely on instincts and practice.

The day had arrived, bringing with it the fateful dawn. Patiently, Zero sat at the starting line, scrutinizing the track map and reviewing the trap positions one final time. The sound of O-Two resonated from the speakers, providing a rundown of the hazards. “Upon reaching the third-left turn, the wrecking ball will be triggered due to proximity. A spiked wall awaits at the 5th right turn – it’s not a sharp turn, making it an excellent opportunity for an oil-spill to cause disruption.” A giggle from the AI punctuated the briefing. “Get it? Disruption.”

Zero squinted. “Go on.” O-Two proceeded to relay information about other traps in the final briefing. To Mute’s surprise, the police had closed off the area to the public. He drove through the gates to an abandoned railway station; the starting and finishing point. ‘It all ends right where it begins,’ he thought. While checking the systems, he noticed a piece of paper protruding from the vent.

He pulled it out and read the scribbled text. ‘FULL AHOY Mute! You gotz diz! Signed – your friend – Captain Albar.’ He laughed at the silly games of the kids who needed him more than they knew. In the entire city, no one else cared for these orphans and abandoned children. Without him, they were destined to become true hooligans. Tucking the paper into his jacket’s pocket, he completed his pre-race checks.

With the pedal to the metal, the supercharged engine squealed, the V8 growled, and the transmission hummed rhythmically. The tires screeched, burning the pavement. The front of the joker’s vehicle lifted momentarily as the tires scrambled for grip. To Mute’s surprise, Zero was keeping pace; judging by the sound, he had undergone an engine swap. ‘You’re well prepared, aren’t you? Oh well,’ he thought to himself.

“First left, deploy flashbangs,” O-Two advised. Zero furrowed his eyebrows in response. “His black-out tint will render them ineffective, especially from behind. The sound, however, will serve as a distraction.”

“Oh…” Zero remarked with sudden understanding that the ‘bangs’ in ‘flashbangs’ actually referred to the sound they made, and it wasn’t just a name. Indeed, the abrupt noise of an explosion would likely jolt any driver, causing them to lose focus if only for a brief moment.

A meter behind Joker, Zero unleashed the flashbangs. His windshield automatically darkened as soon as they went off. To his surprise, Joker’s driving was unaffected by the sounds of explosions. He drove onwards confidently, through the straight and into the next turn. Yet, no reaction from him. Ahead was a long straight path. “Target locked,” reported O-Two.

“Open fire!” Zero commanded as the headlights lowered and machine gun fire erupted. ‘Ting ting ting ting.’ Mute grinned widely as sparks flew, bullet shrapnel and paint peeling off the rear of his car.

“His rear body panels have been replaced with titanium; our ammunition is futile against armor this dense,” suggested O-Two. “Why wasn’t this communicated from the outset?” complained Zero, preparing for a slingshot maneuver. “He had ceramic cloaking paint, which blocked my sensors,” the AI responded.

Zero lined up behind the Joker, emptied his ammunition storage to reduce weight, and then hit a button on his steering wheel. The sudden acceleration increase allowed him to surge past the Joker on the next turn. Nothing unusual. As the race progressed, the Joker clung to Zero’s tail, not granting him a moment’s respite. This constant distraction vexed Zero, as his collision warning systems would flash whenever the Joker came too close.

“O-Two, disable the collision warning systems,” Zero ordered. “But..” began O-Two in response, only to be interrupted by Zero shouting, “DO IT!”

“Has been executed; we’re approaching the wrecking ball,” O-Two confirmed. Mute, no fool, had anticipated traps. Although the nature of these traps remained unknown to him, he expected some would possess proximity activation. Therefore, he decided the wisest approach would be to stay right against Zero, instead of ahead or behind, especially during turns.

The Joker’s front quarter-panel made firm contact with the rear left door of Zero’s vehicle.

They scraped, and metals screeched, trading paint. Joker’s engine growled when nitros hit the supercharger. Mute extricated Joker from Zero, accelerating past him on the straight that led directly into a turn. Here, Mute sprayed oil strategically when his rear aligned with Zero, fully intending to exploit the upcoming turn.

“Slip detected, ABS system engaged, traction control systems engaged,” reported O-Two. “DISABLE! DISABLE!” shouted Zero, wrestling against the AI and automated systems in a bizarre three-way battle for control. Everyone was fighting to master the loss of control: the inertia and physics, the car’s systems, and the driver. However, the AI obeyed as instructed, and the longer the race went on, more systems came offline.

Collision detection, ABS, traction control, turn guidance system – as these systems were disabled through creative abuse by the Joker’s driver, Zero found himself fully in control of the car, as he once was. The windshield no longer dimmed automatically, nor did the headlights toggle on when he entered dark tunnels. The constant distractions of activating basic car functions, which he previously relied on the AI to do, caused him to fall further and further behind.

As they approached the final stretch, he instructed, “O-Two! All systems online, engage over-boost, 20PSI.” He flipped a cover open, rotated a dial to 3. The label above the dial read ‘NOS’. Almost immediately, a warning came: “Such pressure could result in…” But he interjected, “SHUT UP! RHINO WILL HANDLE IT!” Rhino was the V10 engine he had swapped in.

Pressure built as they entered the turn, a lengthy, slow curve. He was 10 meters behind the Joker with the throttle body wide open and the engine growling. A metallic clank sounded, but he paid it no mind. With a press of a button, a triple shot of nitrous sprayed into the intake. The tires bit hard into the pavement, and the transmission groaned as the worn-out metal fought to stay intact. Another creak resonated as the car’s subframe began to buckle, unable to withstand the stress it was subjected to.

In another place, something snapped. Piston #4 seized up, bringing the camshaft to a halt. Despite the desperate attempts by the other 9 to liberate the 4, the shaft broke and the coolant boiled. The engine block cracked open. Tires lost grip, and the transmission locked up. Suddenly, Zero found he was no longer in control. The vehicle veered sideways, spiraling out of control. At a speed of two hundred kilometers, it crashed squarely into the wall.

Zero’s life flashed before him as he clenched the steering wheel. “Reinforcement nanobots are not responding,” reported O-Two. “I…know,” replied Zero, aware of his imminent death. The collision warning system flashed lights, signaling his impending end.

Suddenly, an impact – a strong one, but not potent enough to kill him – sent the car spinning as the front of his vehicle collided with the Joker’s rear side. The moment his wheels slid off the track and struck the soft dirt, they burrowed into it, propelling the car towards the wall. Each flip and collision gradually slowed the momentum until the final, decisive impact with the wall.

Joker, too, spun out from the impact but regained control, straightened out, and then stopped on the road. As he watched the Zero’s crash, he weighed up finishing the race or checking on his adversary. ‘Gah… I gotta stop being such a softie,’ Mute thought, as he approached the crash site. The noise of the door being banged startled Zero to consciousness. Confused, he found himself being pulled from his demolished car by a husky, bearded man.

He soon discovered why rumors circulated that no one ever got to converse with the elusive driver of the renowned Joker, as the man was quiet. From that day forward, a legend was born, the enigmatic MT, driver of the Joker. When Zero asked for his name, the man simply responded, “MT,” which Zero assumed to be his name.

Thus, from the ashes of the crash, the legend of MT was born. MT, the driver of the Joker, finished the race while Zero was mostly unharmed. However, following the humiliating defeat, Zero found himself alone on the streets, abandoned by the Crawlers. He had no idea that when the kids brought him to their leader, ‘Mute,’ he would meet his rival and subsequently, a new friend: Mute, the wheelman of the Joker.