Faceoff

Tyler smirked thinly. "I was about to come looking for you. But it is good that you came to me directly. It saved me the trouble."

Max Powers gritted his teeth and spat on the floor. "Tyler Grant…" he said, mouthing the words with disgust. "It is the first time I lost the Fremont Grand Prix. I had always been the undisputed champion. You did something funny with your bike to make it run faster. You cheater!"

Tyler shrugged nonchalantly and teased him. "Why can't you accept I am a better racer than you?"

A vein throbbed on Max's forehead. "Bullshit! Your DesertX was moving at unnatural speeds, way beyond the Ducati company's maximum threshold! Clearly, you have some supernatural help!"

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "I see. So, my suspicions were not wrong. You dabble in the dark mystical arts."