Chapter 62: Three, Two, One
A hundred qi-powered engines hummed in anticipation.
The residents of Battletown gathered atop its walls to acclaim and cheer on the competitors. Green flying eye-drones spread across the entire length of the History Road highway, recording and displaying everything on countless screens inside the city.
The great bridge linking Battletown to the rest of the wasteland buckled under the weight of all the gathered racers’ vehicles. Over a hundred of them gathered at sunrise to participate in the race, bearing the banners of major sects and independent Paths alike. Orient herself bore the black moon flag of the Moonlight Sect behind her locomotive’s chimney.
Yuan assessed the competition with his newly enhanced sight. His Fourth Coil senses provided him with a wealth of information on the subtle weak points of each vehicle; which thin spots in the armor would let bullets through, which exhaust ports would blow up when overheated, and which conductors looked the most fragile. His team would need every last morsel of intel to prevail today.
From what Yuan had gathered, the Khan’s men ran the various competitors through speed tests yesterday to measure their lap time and starting position; a session which he had been too busy cycling to notice. At the forefront of the racers stood a thin, gaunt man with sunglasses and a brown canine’s head and pelt over his shoulders. The infamous Coyote, no doubt. As Mel and Hardy warned him, the man participated on foot, with no equipment except for his bloodstained clothes.
Speaking of the twins, the two had secured a place side-by-side ahead in the pack; their racing cars ready to ride into the wasteland together. A colossal, dekotora-style spirit-truck roared behind them, though Yuan would rather have called it a mobile nightclub instead. The front looked normal enough—if one ignored the shining yellow eyes that served as the vehicle’s headlights—but the back was outfitted with oversized speakers on the sides, multicolored neon lights pulsing with qi, towers equipped with spinning mirror balls, and a small mobile stage on which a small group of oni were holding a loud concert. The smell of cocaine coming out of the exhaust ports quickly informed Yuan that this vehicle likely belonged to Chemzard, the race’s second most dangerous racer.
“I apologize for our placement, Honored Conductor Yuan,” Orient said, her voice coming from the metal beneath his feet. “I am truly ashamed of myself.”
“It couldn’t be helped,” Yuan reassured her. Unfortunately, the spirit-train’s need to spend qi on keeping Arc’s Authority contained meant Orient didn’t perform too well during yesterday’s speed test session. The crew would start a bit below the middle of the pack, ahead of the heavier vehicles like the Flesh Mansion Sect’s giant centidead, the ghost-ship, and the Metallists’ plane. Not too great, not too terrible.
At least they were ahead of Duckman.