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Redline - Prologue

A story by Croco Chilton

(All characters and storylines, including those based on RP's, artwork and other stories are © of their respected owners)

"Auto racing, mountain climbing, and bullfighting are the only real sports...all the others are games. - Ernest Hemingway"

This was the race of his life, and in a car that he had only dreamed of sitting in, much less driving.

But for Ryan Corbett, the dream would come true. As the winner of the amateur driving competition at the annual Redline Music and Motor Festival, he had earned his place on the starting grid with the top drivers in a one-off race to determine the year's champion. And as the young bengal looked down at the shockingly bright green paint of the Lamborghini Gallardo that would be his chariot for the day, it all began to set in. This is the Race of Champions at Redline, he thought to himself. If I can do well enough in this, I can make a name for myself...I could become rich and famous.

It didn't take long for reality to snap back to Ryan. He was just glad to be in the races at Redline, which started out as an auto show back in the late-70s for guys with hot rods and old muscle cars. Soon after that, the organizers started accepting European cars in a separate show, and it didn't take long before they hosted their first musical acts. The event grew steadily over the years, but it wasn't until the Japanese sport-compact scene started to make its presence known in the 90s that Redline really exploded, with their penchant for wild paint schemes and electronic dance music taking the event to where it was at the present. And with any group that had fast cars, the racing soon became second nature, with the first races taking place sometime in the 80s. Of course it was frowned on by authorities at first, but as the festival became more and more popular, they soon started shutting down large swaths of highway and even building new stretches just for the festival events. It all reached a head in 2003 when a group of citizens petitioned the state legislature to shut Redline down for various reasons, namely dealing with the reckless driving on public roads. But the referendum was shut down and even the current governor, a German shepherd by the name of Joe Simonson and automotive aficionado, ran on keeping the festival operational based on the tax revenue and infrastructure improvements that it would bring. And as Governor Simonson would handily win a third and final term just months after the 2012 festival, he vowed to 'keep his foot to the floor' as he was quoted as saying.

Ryan took a breath and thought about it as he began to notice the crowds beginning to form around him and the other cars. There had to be at least two million dollars' worth of exotic machinery sitting there, waiting to be turned loose as spectators began pulling out smartphones to capture the image of such svelte automobiles and show them to their friends. And even the competitors themselves were being admired as a pair of ferret girls strode up to Ryan to pose for pictures with him. This was all a new experience for him; he was just a weekend warrior that took his modified 2004 BMW 330i to the track every now and then to prove his own mettle. And now that he had mastered different disciplines and cars, it was time to soak in the attention that he was drawing as he gave a smile and a thrumming purr to the ladies before they left.

And then, there they were.

They were referred to by many of the festival attendees as "The Magnificent Seven." And they had earned every right to their stardom through their driving abilities as well as their charisma out of the cockpit. These were the big ticket drivers, the A-listers, and they each had their own following of diehard supporters who swooned at the very thought of getting up close and personal with their heroes. They only came out to drive once in a blue moon, but they were dominant among the mostly amateur and semi-professional drivers. And they would welcome the starry-eyed tiger into their exclusive fraternity if only for the day as they strode up to their cars to examine them. The first to pass him was Cassie Cromwell, the British Redline champion and frequent competitor in the British Touring Car Championship. When she couldn't find a full-time seat in the UK the year prior, the stunning vixen decided to come to Redline and established herself as a marketing dream to go with her looks and driving abilities. She gave Ryan a glance and a smile before walking over to her car, a bright orange McLaren MP4-12C that was as curvaceous and desirable as its pilot. "Only a proper English motor car for this vix," she said when choosing her car for the event, though she clearly did not object to the cars she was given at the nearby Pine Crest Raceway, a dedicated racing course with multiple layouts, of which the pinnacle was a 16-turn championship course that measured a little over 3.5 miles around.

Next to pass by was Alex Kostopolous, a slender lapine with a penchant for American muscle, smoky tire-searing burnouts and general hooning. He eyed the tiger with his typical buck-toothed grin, remembering the duel they had over at the decommissioned Rubin Air Force Base, where the drag racing events were held. Ryan and Alex had earlier ran on the infamous "Deuce," which was a two-mile, eight-lane strip of asphalt that was once the base's longest runway. It was a white-knuckle affair when the two of them were out there, but Alex came out on top after Ryan missed a shift about three-quarters of the way down and had to pull up.

"So you're that kid from the Deuce, huh?" he said, to which Ryan grinned and nodded. "I was wondering who that was that was able to hang with me. . .you're pretty good. But lemme tell ya something...these guys out here don't fuck around, especially Raithe. You'd wanna keep a good eye on him." He then gave him a pat on the shoulder before a white-furred canine approached the two.

"You're giving the rookie your secrets?" The voice had a thick Scandinavian accent to it, which meant it could only belong to Janne Keskinen as Alex chuckled and shook his head. "Didn't think so, but hey, he's all right." A native of Finland, Janne was the four-time defending champion of the Reline Rally, which was held throughout the forested backroads and logging passages scattered throughout the area. And the arctic fox would handily claim his fifth consecutive title, outrunning the nearest driver in his rally-spec Subaru WRX STi by nearly a half-minute over the twenty-four stages. But in regular circuit and point races, Janne was more on the realm of mortal drivers and he knew that this would be a tough event despite nearly winning it all the year before last.

"I don't think we stand a chance in hell, Kettu," Alex joked, referring to Janne by his nickname, which was really the word for 'fox' in his native tongue, "You're a rally racer, and I prefer to get my thrills a quarter-mile at a time. But stranger things have happened."

"Yeah, like me nearly beating Grimsley to the coast."

"If I would've said you'd have finished second that year, I would've thought I was insane. But you know how these things go."

"No shit, man." Alex and Janne would wish Ryan well before going off to their own cars. Being a fan of American cars, it was no surprise that Alex chose the ZR1 Corvette, which was in a deep metallic gray. That shade was a stark contrast to Janne's Audi R8, which was an icy shade of silver, while the wing on the rear of the car designated it as being a GT model. They looked at each other's cars and nodded; while Alex knew that his 638-horsepower supercharged behemoth had a distinct power advantage over Janne's 560-horse R8, the fox knew that the all-wheel-drive R8 would get him out of the hole quicker. But he also knew that the rabbit was a dragster and could get that hole shot down, so he knew it would be tough for him to get the leg up. On the flipside of that, he also knew that four wheels could get him through the corners better than two, so he knew he could get to the line first if he drove his race well.

Ryan opened the drivers' door to his Lamborghini just as a rise in the crowd signified the arrival of the next racer to the grid. The wild multi-colored mane, the whiskers, the aqua-colored scales. . .it could only mean that Kenji Yamada was on the scene. A native of Osaka, he was Mr. JDM through and through as he only competed in Japanese cars, and even some imported over in the right-handed configuration that was customary to that nation. His love of his birth nation's creations and electronica was only rivaled by his skill in disciplines that were unique and created in Japan: drifting and touge. The drift courses had become Kenji's personal playground, and he wowed the crowds as well as his fellow drifters with his seamless linking of corners into a smooth and effortless slide. Some could hold the line and keep it going, but few if any could hold the angles that the dragon was able to. And while he was a showman on the drift course, Kenji was all business on the mountain, and his precision was unmatched in the first two editions of the Redline Touge Challenge. It would be a matter of time before someone got themselves killed on the touge, he was quoted as telling festival organizers, but whether it was an act of genuine concern or a mind game was left unknown.

Having turned on some music to get his mind focused on the race, Ryan heard a tap on the rear fender, then snapped his head around to see Kenji grinning and flashing his customary double-V salute.

"Hey, hey! This must be the new kid on the block!"

Ryan blinked a couple times, having recognized the Eastern dragon from somewhere...a video? "And you must be that one dude from that video..."

"Ultimate Drift 2, 3 and 4? American Touge Showdown...the list goes on and on. Pick your poison."

"Actually I was going for "West Coast Invasion 3." Buddy of mine showed it to me and...you were the one in-car in the right-hand-drive FD RX-7?"

Kenji was thoroughly impressed. "Yep, the one and only!" The tiger offered a paw, which was shaken heartily as he looked down at him. "Saw you running the other day on the 267 to US-44 run, and you really got me buzzed to run with ya. Maybe if you stay behind me for a while, you'll learn something about driving with style." Ryan laughed and wished Kenji luck just as the next competitor took to the grid. He had seen Cassie Cromwell go by and thought that she was the quiet type, while at the same time wasn't surprised to see the deep blue Nissan GT-R in the possession of the dragon. But he was surprised to see a tall, voluptuous cougar approaching him with a little bit of a sway in her hip. He looked up and was expecting her to have a phone out to take a picture, but was surprised when she leaned against the car and looked right back down at him.

"Hey," she said while flicking her tail back and forth slowly, "You must be Ryan Corbett...I've been wanting to see you drive for a while after hearing about you." This greatly boosted the tiger's ego as he kept his eyes trained on the other feline, though he couldn't help but to question why she was hanging around. The leather jacket confirmed the sneaking suspicion of who this cat really was. He had heard of Allison Alston, known better as "Allie" to everyone, and while he did not enter any of the off-road events, he knew that Allie was the one to beat. Given her track record and the way she had built up her custom Ford F-150 Raptor pickup, it was no surprise that she won every single off-road race at the year's edition of the festival. But like with Janne, she was a mere mortal on asphalt despite keeping her eyes on a Ferrari 458 Italia painted in the traditional Ferrari red.

"Allie Alston, I presume? I think you're a little, uh. . .out of your element." Allie smiled at Ryan's attempt to rattle her and turned it around on him.

"Maybe, but at least I know how to play a little dirty..." Touche. Ryan got out of the Lamborghini and followed Allie over to the Ferrari as she opened the door and peeked inside. "But you don't have to worry about me giving you a chrome kiss, handsome...I think I'll leave that to Raithe." That was the second time that someone had mentioned this...Raithe, and now he was wanting to know more. Curiosity had apparently caught up to this cat.

"Who the hell is this 'Raithe' person? First the rabbit, and now you--"

Allie got out of the car and looked him dead in the eye. "Marcus Raithe is someone you do not wanna get on the bad side of. He knows only one thing, and that is winning. And don't you think for a moment that he won't risk destroying a $400,000 supercar if it means him getting to the finish line first." She then gestured to another Lamborghini, only this one was a flat matte black that looked as if it could suck the light off of the other cars. "You see that black Aventador right there? Some guys may drive it gingerly knowing that it's worth so much, but not Marcus. That could very well be an '89 CR-X to him with the way he drives, so you need to keep your eyes open if you're around him. But chances are you might not be cause while he may drive recklessly at times, he's fast and he can make things work. So you've been warned now." It took a little while for it to sink in, but hearing about this character made him think about what he was getting himself into as he strode back to his car.

There were six drivers on the grid, waiting to be introduced. There would soon be a seventh, as a cat with a cold yellow glare and pitch black fur would step up to the gathering, the ominous skull t-shirt he wore just as black, as well as the leather jacket he had over it. If there was a personification of a true villain in the festival racing circuit, it was present. And Marcus Raithe loved every second of it as he sauntered up to the line of cars, ears perking at the chorus of boos and jeers from the spectators. He didn't let it bother him one bit, and he kept his steely glare forward as a snow leopardess clung to his massive left arm. But through it all, he knew that his talent behind the wheel was second to none, and that he could just drop the festival and drive anywhere in the world if the offer was right...except that was not Marcus Raithe's style. Redline was his personal meal ticket, and he was not about to give up the money and sponsors to go off racing in some faraway land. He was having too much fun with this, as he loved playing the heel and being an intimidator...the black cat that crossed one's path and jinxed them to certain failure. And even the iniquitous panther had a strong fanbase of his own as he stood front and center and held his arms out to garner more attention to himself.

The attention would be short-lived as everyone turned their heads to see the final driver make his way onto the grid. To the delight of those gathered, the driver was a wolf that looked rather lanky, yet strong at the same time, and able to take a punch that his mouth set him up for. And while James Carl Grimsley, better known as "JC," was no angel, at least he was not so overt about it as Marcus was. A former street racer who still has strong ties to the underground racing community, the lupine would rather save himself for the masses at Redline, where he had won the last two Race of Champions events. He kept his skills sharp at track day events throughout the region, and has even dabbled a little bit in rallying, but he finished a disappointing 11th out of the 30 entrants into the Redline Rally. But unlike Marcus who thrives in causing chaos, JC was known for being deft and precise in his maneuvers, taking victory when all hope seemed to have been lost. It was like he was the Batman to Marcus' Joker...the Superman to his Lex Luthor, and they had a lot of fun with it as well. If it meant they were to get paid like kings just for driving, then they would keep at it for as long as they could.

While they were getting their affairs in order and getting ready, a single fox came out with a mixing drum and set it up in the middle of the grid before calling the drivers over. The fox was wearing a white polo shirt with the Redline logo on the left breast and a nice pair of khaki pants, and he had a lanyard designating him as an event official as they gathered around. "The number you draw will be your starting position for the race," he said, "The race route has been entered into your navigation system, and if you are to become disabled, just dial *7223 and someone will come out to assist you. Remember, you are the very best of the best that Redline has to offer, and you are expected to race and behave in a professional manner. Our sponsors are counting on this and they will know if someone is out of line." He then paused and cleared his throat before continuing. "And it is because of our sponsors that you are to be paid rather handsomely for generally being hoons and doing things on public roads most people would never dream of. Just for being here you will already be in line for at least $200,000." Ryan's eyes lit up like two firecrackers on the 4th of July. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought that he would walk away with even $10,000, or enough to get the latest round of modifications for his precious Bimmer. The thoughts quickly danced around his head, but then they ceased when he heard what the lion's share would be. "...and the winner will walk away with $1.5 million, the largest amount ever awarded at the Redline Festival." He had to do everything to keep his jaw from falling to the pavement.

The drawing would then commence. As per Redline tradition, the winner of last year's race would be the first to draw as JC stepped up to the drum and opening the door to let a single numbered ball roll down into his paw - 3.

"Looks like you'll be 3rd off the line, JC," said the fox, who gave a shrug as he smiled and padded off. Another mixing drum with colored balls was off to the side, which the fox drew from to determine the next driver to draw. A white ball popped out and the fox looked at the white-furred one. "Janne Keskinen..." He would draw the number 5, which elicited a displeased grumble from Janne as he stepped back. Back to the colored balls, and the next ball in the fox's paw would be a lime-green ball. Ryan gulped, for that was his color as his name was announced. "Ryan Corbett..."

Ryan stepped up to the machine, his paw trembling a bit as he reached for the drum. The number 1 ball was still out there to be drawn, but so was the number 8. He didn't want to be last on the grid as he would be at a bit of a disadvantage, but then again he knew that his all-wheel-drive Gallardo would have an advantage off the line. Still, he was nervous and looked away briefly as the numbered ball slid down the ramp and into his waiting paw.

"6. You'll be starting 6th, Ryan. Best of luck to you." Ryan gulped as he walked away, shaking his head. That 1.5 million was as good as history, he thought to himself as he stepped away, turning back to hear a squeal of delight from Cassie Cromwell as she drew the pole position and muttering quietly to himself. But then he felt a paw come down on his shoulder, and turned to see JC Grimsley standing beside him, his tail flickering behind him in a slow, languished wag.

"Hey," he said quietly, "why the long face, kid?"

"I'm starting 6th."

"If you're confident in yourself, then you won't be there for long. Guess where I started when I won Redline for the first time back in '07?" Ryan shook his head, which brought a grin and a quicker wag from the wolf. "Yep. 6th. It's all in your head. . .you can do just about anything if you put your mind to it." This brought a smile to Ryan's face, but was quickly erased when JC pointed to his chest. "Just...don't come between me and Raithe. I know he wants me and if he wants me, then he's gonna get it. But other than that, just drive like you've been all month and you'll be fine." This boosted Ryan's confidence as the other drivers drew their positions.

With Cassie at the front of the pack, there was the possibility of having an all-female front row, but that was squelched when Allie Alston drew the number 7 position, followed by Alex Kostopoulous drawing the 2nd position. The final draw would be made by Kenji Yamada, and the dragon huffed a note of disappointment when he looked down and saw the number 8 on the ball in his hand. But he picked right back up and threw the ball into the crowd, as he saw it for the challenge it would be to go from last on the grid to first at the line. Ryan thought he was insane, while JC just chuckled as he watched the dragon.

"Heh, what a fuckin' hoon," he said, chuckling as he turned back to Ryan, "Kenji's another guy you gotta give a lot of space to, but he won't run ya off the road like Raithe." Ryan gave a nod, then looked around for a split second. There were seven cars on the grid, but JC's wasn't out there as the tiger looked around again.

"Right. Where's your ride, man? I've seen everyone else's and I think I've got a good car."

"That Superleggera is a beast. 570 horses may seem underpowered compared to Raithe's Aventador or Kosto's Vette, but that thing's about 350 pounds lighter than the other Lambo, and you've got all-wheel-drive which will help you power out of the turns better than the rear-drive Vette. As for me..." JC's tail started to wag furiously when he saw the car being rolled out in front of the crowd, a shimmering silhouette of the deepest metallic purple wrapped around a machine that looked fast while sitting still. The angled taillights and tri-tipped exhaust was a dead giveaway as Ryan paced around the car, while the wolf just stepped up to the hood and leaned against it. "...this has to be the greatest automobile that Toyota has ever made, the LF-A...a culmination of passion and technology gathered from racing on the Formula One circuit. 4.8-liter V10 under there...552 horsepower, double-wishbone in the front, multilink in the rear, all attached to a carbon fiber monocoque and aluminum chassis; 0-to-60 in 3.6, top speed of about 205, and a recorded time at the Ring of 7:35, with carbon-ceramic brakes to keep it all in line. . .yeah, this baby's the finest thing that Toyota's ever put out."

"But. . .it's a Lexus."

JC narrowed his eyes at the tiger. "And you forget who owns Lexus, kid. Just be glad that my other one didn't arrive here in time..." This left Ryan perplexed as the wolf patted him on the shoulder. "But hey, good luck in the race. I'll be expecting your best." He could only watch as a film crew pulled JC off so he could conduct yet another interview.

The cool breeze of the morning soon gave way to a nice and mild Pacific Northwest afternoon, but there was no time to stop and smell the roses as the drivers in the Race of Champions were to be introduced to the masses at the festival. Each of the stars had their own followings, though it was mostly centered around who looked the best or who was at the top of their preferred motorsport discipline. As was expected, the biggest cheers came for Cassie and Allie, as well as for JC and Marcus, though the panther was showered with a heavy dose of jeering which he embraced openly. A band led by famed guitarist Chance Lupine was playing through a set which devolved quickly into a jam session filled with aggressive riffs to pump the crowd and the drivers up as they were led out. When it was Ryan's turn to step out to the adulation, he didn't know what to do. So he did the only thing he could, and that was to give a wave in every direction from the stage while at the same time trying not to appear completely petrified on the outside as he was on the inside. He had never really done well in large crowds, and he was just as eager to get off the stage as he was to get behind the wheel of his car and get to business on the road.

With the festivities out of the way, the drivers could actually start thinking about the race. Ryan could only think about one thing, and that was the moment he could put the power down on his neon green asphalt rocket ship for the first time. He spent a good deal of time trying to figure out how to engage the launch control, but thank goodness he had time to look it up on his smartphone. 'Lessee. . .switch to Corsa mode...okay, disable traction control...once the two car icons light up, just hold down the brake with the left and apply the throttle, where it should hold at around 5,000 rpms. And when the lights go off, let off the brake and go like a bat outta hell...sounds easy enough.' From there, it would just be a matter of driving the course, which started off on the road leading to the main stage as a weasel and a raccoon approached Ryan's car. When they began to place things on it and told him to get out, the tiger growled and stared at the younger of the two, which was the weasel.

"H-hey, what the hell are you doing to my car?"

"We're putting cameras on the roof and in various places," he explained, "This race is gonna be viewed live over the Web in about 150 countries on a livestream, so do your best cause the world's gonna be watchin' and commenting like crazy. Excuse me..." He then spoke into his headset to the control room producer. "Camera 1 on Corbett is installed and should be online, whatcha got for me? Okay, good. . .2 will be on the front bumper, 3 under the wing, and I-1 and 2 should be dead center looking out the windshield and on the passenger door panel looking back at the driver. . .I've got I-2--hey Ryan, get back in and settle into the seat--oh, and can you roll down the passenger window for me?" Ryan did just that as he turned on the car and put the window down while the musteline technician made a few more fine adjustments on the camera before they were to his liking. "These cameras are amazing, but we should be in line for something from GoPro for next year. They're just coming up and they want in...but good luck, Ryan! I'm hoping you give our viewers a hell of a show!" A couple of the other drivers were around and tending to their cars while technicians were fine-tuning the cameras for that perfect shot.

It wasn't long. The time had finally come, and all of the pomp and circumstance was over. There was only one thing to do as the spectators around the main stage were cleared away to give the cars at least 100 feet; even with the open start, there had never been any incidents of injury at this juncture as the drivers were told to drive around the festival grounds to warm up their cars. This was to get a feel for the cars, though a couple of the racers were using personal vehicles that coincidentally fit into the class for the event, and as Ryan drove around the grounds, he was still in a state of disbelief. The posters of Lamborghinis of the past were just a dream for him...but now the dream had come true as he let his foot drop to the floor to hear the roar of the V-10 engine mounted just behind him, feeling the back end come out and snapping the wheel back to catch it. Oh yeah, he thought...this is what it's all about as he and the others came back to the stage area in order to line up. Cassie's bright orange McLaren would be the closest to the staging lights, followed by the gunmetal Corvette with Alex behind the wheel.

And behind them, the two old rivals took to the grid as JC's Lexus LFA settled in behind the McLaren, while Marcus wheeled his Aventador into position. Once everyone was in position, everyone on the ground waited with nervous anticipation for the starting lights to come on; it would be a standing start where the lights would come on one at a time until all five sets were on, then the race would begin when they were turned off. Ryan began the process of engaging the Gallardo's launch control, while the other pilots were doing the same thing in their cars as one set of lights came on, then the second and the third. By the time the fourth set of lights lit up, the tiger was gripping the wheel hard enough to make someone worry about his claws puncturing the fingertips of his gloves, and when the fifth and final set came on, it was as if time stood still. The roar of the engines being rivaled by the roar of the crowd, ready to see nearly three million dollars worth of exotic automobiles surge from the line.

Then the lights went out, and everything snapped back to real time as the brakes were let out, and the accelerators mashed to the floor.

Ryan's head snapped back as he felt the rush, and he was able to clear Janne's Audi once they got off the main stage, where the throng of fans turned to the giant video boards to keep tabs on the drivers. The course was set up with four different sections of the area in mind. The opening stage was mostly flat and with gentle, sweeping turns to keep the drivers on their toes. This allowed them to get settled in before heading through the valley toward the coastline, where the sharp elevation changes and more pronounced bends would test their abilities. Once onto the coastal highway, they would keep to there for a few miles, and then would come the outrageous climb back up Highway 182. 182 was known as "The Devil's Road" for how terrifying the sharp the hairpins were and how sudden the kinks in the road came up, the most infamous of these being a sudden left-right-left section that the drivers referred to as "St. Peter's Gate," as a mistake could very well cost a driver their life going down the valley. Sure there were guard rails there, but being sent up the side of a mountain to come crashing back down again could very well defeat its purpose at the speeds the would be carrying. Finally, it was back into the valley toward the festival grounds, where the masses would await the winner.

It didn't take long before JC had assumed the lead from Cassie, while Marcus sat in third. Ryan had lost his position, and was even overtaken by Allie in her bright red Ferrari as she charged her way through the pack. Soon, the tiger found himself at the very back, but he took a breath and realized that it just might not be a bad thing at this point of the race as he snapped through a left-hand bend, the speedometer reading 110 and climbing momentarily before the next bend forced him to lift off the throttle and apply a little brake. Judging from where they were going, it would be more than the sprint races he had run all month, and that he could afford to lag behind...but not too much as he kept to the rear bumpers of the cars in front of him.

But the lead was beginning to slip away, and Marcus saw his chance to pounce when Cassie got off onto the shoulder after a 90-degree turn. She had to correct herself, and that cost her time and eventually the place, while at the same time allowing the smooth and adroit wolf pull out to a comfortable lead. But what advantage that Marcus had in speed was negated each time he had to take a corner, and in turn allowed JC to further go ahead while backing him up to the clutches of Alex, who had relegated the vixen to the 4th position. He was looking very comfortable on the open road for someone that was thought of as a drag racing ace, as well as for being the only one with a proper manual transmission to work. And work it he did to the point where he had the corner, but spun the rear tires briefly, allowing the four-wheeled power of Marcus' Aventador to take the advantage back.

This was good news for Ryan as he was in 5th, but had the other three cars hot on his tail as they were having their own battle royale. It was as if they didn't know who wanted to have the position; first Ryan would come out with it, then Allie would maneuver her Ferrari to the point, then a slip would allow Kenji's GT-R to hold onto the position briefly before he would get out of line and let Allie and Ryan back ahead, only to watch Janne's R8 move to the front. What had started out well enough was quickly becoming frustrating as the downhill sections meant they were nearing the coast and wearing on the brakes a bit more. Eventually it would be the Italian cars sorting out as Ryan and Allie would get in line and let the other two watch their taillights get smaller, darting through the turns and down the side of the hills with the green Lamborghini tailing the bright red Ferrari.

The signs leading to the coastal town of Gullport would signify the unofficial halfway point, with JC holding a lead that was starting to shrink. The black beast would come calling soon enough as the gentle bends would allow Marcus to use the power advantage he had to catch back up, unleashing a hellacious roar that would draw some of the locals along the coastal highway. A lot of the Gullport residents knew the races came through their sleepy little town, and some made the journey to the festival that normally took around forty minutes, but were otherwise intolerant of shenanigans in vehicles during the rest of the year. The roads were too narrow, the cliffs were too steep, and the noise was too much of a disturbance to them to allow it. But the town just about came to a halt to watch the sleek supercars roar down the road that led people to them, and even some of the drivers would make the drive down to have a meal at Captain Callahan's on the docks.

There was no time to stop as JC's navigation computer signified that the real test would come soon.

"In...1 mile, turn right onto County Highway 37, Forest Hill Road..." Forest Hill marked the beginning of the trek back up the mountain, where they would get back to an elevation of around 3,000 feet before descending back toward the festival grounds. It started out as a gradual climb toward the peaks that still looked as if they had a hint of snow on them after they made the 90-degree right, but the curves were sharper and came more suddenly than before. A blind corner here could ruin somebody's day as well as the quarter-million-dollar car they were in complete control of just seconds prior.

But Ryan was handling it well enough as he kept on Allie's bumper, and soon they had caught up to the fiery orange McLaren. Being a circuit driver meant that Cassie should have been more comfortable in the turns, but she was having an uncharacteristically rough time going back uphill...and she nearly lost control around a left-hand sweeping turn when the rear end stepped out as she got back on the throttle too soon and too hard. Even with the advanced traction control and suspension built on countless Formula One victories, she nearly had a date with disaster in front of Allie. That was all the tiger needed as he struck and blew past the two female drivers with relative ease. He was gaining more and more confidence heading up the hills, and was even starting to catch up to the Corvette as Alex was finding it difficult to navigate the mountain roads.

"C'mon, c'mon--C'MON!" he growled, feeling as if he was Superman himself. His technique was flawless, hitting the apexes perfectly, and he had the rabbit in range when the GPS chimed in.

"In...three-quarters of a mile, turn left onto State Highway 182..." This was it. The Devil's Road. The most wickedly twisted eight miles of highway ever conceived, full of switchbacks and off-camber corners; it was amazing that they even let truckers onto this road. And of course it was closed down during the winter, so enthusiast drivers had to get it while the getting was good. Ryan gulped as he guided his lime-green machine onto the infamous highway, and into 3rd place as he was able to pass Alex under braking. Knowing better, Alex gave it up and decided to follow, watching how he took the first set of turns and sharp elevation changes.

He might have been paying too much attention to his rival, and not enough attention to his own driving as Alex slipped and nearly wrecked himself. "Ahh, go on, kid," he muttered to himself as he slammed it into 3rd gear, "I'll be back for you..."

But Ryan started to pull away from the lapine and his Corvette as the corners became tighter, testing him to be able to keep it off the guard rails while still maintaining speed. He could barely see the 2nd-place car of Marcus Raithe ahead of him, as he had caught up to JC's Lexus and was waiting for the perfect time to pounce. While he was wild and borderline reckless at times, Marcus knew better than to try anything risky at this point and gave the dark purple car in front of him plenty of room through the switchbacks and up the final hill to what became known as "Victory Vista," a wide left-hand corner with a runoff area that provided a nice view over the valley below. This was the highest point of the run in relation to sea level at a little over 2,800 feet, and things would start to gradually go downhill...but the hardest test was still to come, for they knew the dreaded St. Peter's Gate would soon be upon them. It was reminiscent of the Eau Rouge at the famous Spa-Francorchamps track in Belgium, but stretched out and going downhill through the first left into the right, and leveling off at the left exiting the section. And the section of road leading to it was fairly straight, so they could build up speed going into it.

The first to hit it were JC and Marcus, who flew through it without breaking momentum and staying within a couple carlengths of each other. Ryan came to it in 3rd and held his breath when he saw he was going about 140 miles per hour approaching it. He clipped the shoulder on the first left, but then a break in control saw him let off the throttle to try and save the car. In doing so, he greatly compromised the right and was still fighting the car into the left when he put the pedal down again. Too soon, and the car pushed through the corner, the unmistakable grinding of metal against metal permeating the cockpit as he snarled in disgust. He was able to recover, but JC and Marcus were long gone, and Alex had caught back up to him and would have taken back 3rd if not for the right-hand bend that they came to next.

When they turned off of 182, it would be back to the gentle sweepers and elevation changes they started with as they sped back toward the festival grounds. But there would be more corners to take, and in doing so, Marcus was able to coax JC into a mistake by flying up onto his rear bumper just as he entered a left-hand turn. But since he got too close, he was unable to capitalize and in turn allowed Ryan and Alex, as well as the rest of the pack to catch up to them. Allie had overtaken Cassie for 5th-place and was gaining on Alex, while Kenji and Janne had made impressive gains in the mountains. It was going to be a barnstorming finish; one that the fans would be talking about for a long time as the drivers could begin to sense the finish line getting closer. Eight miles, then seven, then six, and Marcus was beginning to get impatient as he hung onto the rear end of the Lexus in front of him. This could not happen, he thought to himself. . .here he was, in his mind the best driver in the baddest car to ever be shown at Redline, and yet he was trailing. Something had to give soon as he glanced at his navigation screen. Five miles, and he was nipping at the heels of the wolf in front of him, but unable to pass, then four...and three.

He knew that his best, and last shot would come in another mile or so at what was known as "Victory Junction." It was a section of road built specifically for Redline, and as a lot of the purpose-built sections were, it was inspired by a great motorsport circuit. It was a wide chicane that broke up a flat, straight stretch of highway much like the Mulsanne at Le Mans; hard braking into a right-left section before turning back onto the highway with the festival gates in sight. The black Aventador was right there as JC hit the brakes to dive into that right, then back into the left and the slight right back onto the highway as Marcus was able to draw out and take a peek to the wolf's right, but wasn't able to get the nose further as he pounded the wheel with his left paw while dialing the next gear up with his right, and growling a note of disgust. One mile. There would be one final right-hand sweeping corner before the festival gates and the finish line. It was now or never for Marcus.

"I'm not gonna finish 2nd to you again this year, Grimsley..."

They entered the turn nearly level with each other, the black Lamborghini on the inside. JC was able to put the throttle down earlier and clear Marcus at the apex, but a bump in the road upset the balance just enough for him to draw up to him again. That was the break he needed, and the panther struck. He let the car slide up the road a little bit, and as he did, the left corner of his front fender brushed against the the right corner of the rear end of JC's car. And as the wolf was powering out of the corner, it caused him to oversteer enough to get out of control, and he could only try to save himself as Marcus sped away to certain victory. But as he did, the right rear tire caught a rut just off the shoulder and turned the car over...and over...and over. Ryan's eyes lit up, wide as dinner plates as he saw the tumbling car in front of him come back up toward him. He jammed on the brakes and was able to turn around him, but Alex was not as fortunate as JC came back on his wheels and slid right into the path of the oncoming Corvette. The impact was on the left front wheel well, and it pushed what was once a sleek, powerful supercar into the field, leaving the other drivers to slowly pick their way through the minefield of shattered glass, metal and carbon-fiber. Both the Lexus and the Corvette were completely destroyed, with airbags inflating to save their occupants from going through the windshields, though disoriented and needing some time to regain their bearings.

With the chaos he left behind him, Marcus was free to speed through the gates. One more slow left turn, then a right to the stage through a pyrotechnic-filled checkered gate as the crowd roared, still abuzz from the wreck and howling in apparent disgust as to who came through first as the announcer's voice crackled over the speakers.

"And it looks like Marcus Raithe has escaped the carnage! He will win the Redline Race of Champions in 2012 in the Lamborghini Aventador, and avenge the defeat of 2011!" He slowed, screaming and beating the dashboard triumphantly while the other Lamborghini came through just five seconds after. "Second place will go to Ryan Corbett, who becomes the highest finishing amateur champion at Redline in his Gallardo. . .then its--OH! Allie Alston just nips Kenji Yamada at the line for third in the Ferrari 458, while Cassie Cromwell finishes fifth in the McLaren, and Janne Keskinen comes home sixth in the Audi R8 GT! What a finish, though we still haven't heard yet from JC Grimsley and Alex Kostopoulous after that wicked crash..."

As soon as Ryan crossed the line, he waited for the other drivers to cross before speeding back off toward the crash scene. He saw it unfold right in front of his windshield and narrowly escaped with his car mostly intact, the long gouges down the right side a testament to his mistake on the mountain. When he got there, there were no paramedics, no safety crews or anyone as he pulled his car onto the shoulder and rushed over to what remained of the Lexus LFA that JC was driving. To his relief, he saw the wolf was awake and conscious, though he was still strapped into the cockpit. He had taken his gloves and helmet off and had chucked them out of the broken window near where the tiger was standing.

"Are you all right? That was fucking terrifying to see!"

JC looked up and gave a smile, then winced as he unbuckled himself. "Yeah, kid. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine...even if I'm gonna be sore as hell for the next few days." He then saw the scratches down the side of the Gallardo and looked back at him. "Looks like the road bit you too..."

"Yeah. . .182."

"St. Peter's Gate?" The tiger didn't respond, but JC knew better. "Figured as much. If the right side of the car's all scratched up, then that's a sign someone screwed up coming out."

Ryan left out a soft sigh as he heard the sirens, then turned to see Alex walking around to inspect the damage to his car. What a relief, he thought, having seen the impact in his mirror as he paced and thought about what just happened. In one race, he had literally just become a millionaire. . .he didn't have to do this again next year if he didn't want to. He could get a nice house somewhere, pay off the rest of his college education and become an engineer just as he always dreamed of. Hell, maybe he could finally retire that old Bimmer and move on up, maybe to the M3 that he had been wanting...or maybe just keep it as a daily driver to go on with his life as well as the M3 for track days and just showing off. But that fire had been lit inside of him, and he could only think about one thing as he smiled at the wolf. "Can't wait for next year already!" JC just looked at him and gave him a sly, fang-filled grin as the paramedics tended to him.

"Next year? Oh, man. . .next year's gonna be fun..."

© Croco Chilton - 5/13