The Elemental Drifters: AWAKENING

Vol 3.2

----('A Martian Winter - Angel Vivaldi' plays)----

Dark morning skies of the AM hours laid above, showering the land with darkness. Leaving the lamp posts of the highway responsible to light up the asphalt. The highway was near empty, with only a large delivery truck that soldiered on its journey at that irregular time.

A truck driver yawned as he pedaled through the late-night roads. On his left hand, was a can of high caffeinated coffee that only tasted like engine oil as his taste buds wore out. His right hand was on the steering, maintaining the truck in a straight line through the endless stretch of asphalt of the night.

His eyes were squinting, only a matter of time before closing dangerously shut. The coffee wasn't working as he hoped.

All before he heard an oncoming noise of engine notes...
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Then came a noise of a deafening fly by. A loud, sort of metallic roar, vibrations of the soundwaves enough to shake him awake. The truck driver jerked upwards, as he watched a lone gloss white Subaru BRZ disappearing into the straights of the highway. The Boxer four-banger echoed gradually in volume as it got further, sounding like a trumpet in the distance.

Louis shifted into fifth gear as he flew down the straights. Taking advantage of the little traffic on the road to push full throttle. Feeling the air cut through the aero chassis outside him, the tires gripping the road, and the vibrations from the motor.

Red taillights showed in front of his way. A sluggish late-night cruiser in an old Toyota Camry, heading to wherever its destination was at its own pace.

Louis gripped the steering tight to move out of the way. Turning to the left at a 90-degree steering angle, losing a little traction, before he let off the gas for a moment to let the tires grip up again.

It was rookie driving, but he was having a blast. Neither was he seeking to enjoy the destination.

Rather enjoying the journey all the way, over two times the speed limit.
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Lift off the gas, brake, clutch, downshift, and steer. The black-hair followed these principles whenever going about the corner on Sepang. Using the best line in his head throughout, which he only knew was an inside entry to an outside line.

Louis had been using such a technique in Sepang during track days for 3 months, honing the basics first. He still goes for runs during the lunch break where he had the whole circuit to himself.

Trail braking into the next turn, the black hair only got faster upon exit. His throttle responses were on point, knowing the exact places to floor it.
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The same white BRZ showed again, tearing up the late-night highway roads. Highlights blared, the engine roared, the air around him swooshed past.

A grind crept on his face, this feeling, one that he has forsaken before, he had now appreciated once more. That high moment as he traveled 220km/h on a pure highway straightaway. He felt powerful, invincible.

He felt like he never wanted to let it go, nor feel like it could get any worse. The rush never bore him, it was only getting better as he got faster.
_______

In the afternoon, the black-hair worked around the clock helping his colleagues at work. Fetching them various parts or tools they request.

He helped Kenny as both of them worked on the BRZ after-hours. The car getting its first upgrades. They started by replacing the stock driver's seat with a new aftermarket RECARO RS-G bucket seat. All deducted from Louis' paycheck.
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After coming down the main straight where the pit lane and grandstand were stationed, Louis decided to push the car harder, reaching top speeds of 200km/h down the straightaway at sixth.