Race Against Shadows


7/9/20232 min read

From our vantage point on the start line, we watched as the two speedsters tore through the colony's deserted streets. It was a blur of high-speed maneuvering, the roars of the engines echoing off the ghostly buildings and reverberating through the air.

The stranger's speedster was like an arrow, cutting through the air with deadly precision. But our old machine was no slouch. Fitt commanded it like a seasoned pilot, every swerve and twist of the controls reflecting his skill and experience.

"He's good," Chef mumbled, his gaze fixed on the rapidly moving vehicles, squinting against the dust that they kicked up.

"I told you," I said, clapping him on the back, "Fitt was the best speedster racer back in the... Well, wherever he learned to drive like that."

Despite Fitt's competence, the stranger was proving to be a formidable adversary. He knew the terrain well and was not shy about using every dirty trick he knew to maintain his lead. We watched in trepidation as he swerved to block Fitt, forcing him to divert his path onto a rougher terrain that shook our speedster viciously.

"Dammit," Chef grunted, his knuckles white around the binoculars he was using to follow the race. "He's playing dirty."

The sun was beginning to set, casting long, eerie shadows across the abandoned colony. As the two speedsters disappeared into the labyrinth of narrow streets, we could only track them by the occasional roar of engines and the dust clouds that billowed into the crimson sky. I knew that Fitt was gaining traction because the strangers could be seen continuously looking back, his nerves becoming evident with every move. Even with Fitt a few feet bhind him, I just knew we were going to come out on top.

Then, as they were nearing the crest of the massive finishing dune, the stranger's speedster suddenly erupted with a blinding light, illuminating the twilight landscape and blinding Fitt. The stranger seized this opportunity to surge ahead. But he wasn't done yet. From his speedster, a jet of oil squirted out, slicking the incline of the dune and sending our speedster into an uncontrolled skid. For all of the skill that Fitt had, nothing was going to be able to help him now.

Fitt fought against the skid, trying desperately to regain control, but it was too late. The stranger's speedster disappeared over the crest of the dune, leaving us behind in his dust.

As the echo of his victory roar faded, all that was left was the sight of our battered speedster, smoke billowing from its undercarriage, and Fitt climbing out of the wreckage. I could see the grim determination in Fitt's eyes as he looked towards us, even as the taste of defeat hung heavily in the air.

A seething anger took root inside me. I had seen the stranger's cheap trick. I had watched as he had done everything in his power to undermine us. But this... this was beyond tolerable.

"The hell with his game," I growled, rising to my feet. The stranger had won the race, but this was far from over. I was done playing by his rules.

This wasn't about a race anymore, or about a man left behind on a forsaken planet. This was about my crew, my family, and I would be damned if I let some sneaky cheater jeopardize our mission. As I marched towards the smirking stranger, only one thought resonated in my mind.

He was about to meet the Voidrunner.