Act: 3 Chapter: 3 | The Gum Tape Deathmatch

The night was far from over.

Collei parked the Eight-Six beside Silverwolf's Integra. The mountain air was thick with anticipation, and every pair of eyes was locked on the two cars, waiting for the inevitable showdown to begin.

Silverwolf walked up to Yelan and tossed a roll of duct tape into her hands like it was nothing more than a casual tool for a minor job. The roll landed with a soft thud against Yelan's palm, and she stared at it for a moment, as if she couldn't believe this was actually happening.

Yelan exhaled sharply and narrowed her eyes at Silverwolf. "You are out of your goddamned mind."

Silverwolf just smirked and patted Yelan's shoulder, her cocky grin unwavering. "Relax. This one's already in the bag for me."

Collei stepped out of her car, her green eyes burning with quiet fury. She didn't hesitate, didn't falter. She walked right up to Yelan and spoke with a steady, unwavering voice. "Do what you have to do."

Beidou was on her in an instant, gripping her shoulder. "You don't have to do this! You won't be able to steer! This isn't some normal race, Collei—"

Before Beidou could say anything else, Collei slammed her palm against the top of the steering wheel with a sharp smack, cutting her off. "I don't care!" Her voice was shaking, but not from fear. It was raw, fueled by pure, unrelenting anger. "Nobody pulls this kind of shit and gets away with it! I'm not backing out of this, even if it's the last thing I do. I won't lose to an asshole like her."

The impact of her words sent a ripple through the group. No one dared to speak, no one dared to try and stop her again. The only sound was the distant howling of the wind and the occasional chirping of insects in the trees.

Yelan crouched beside Collei, the roll of tape still in her hands. Her face softened, just slightly, and for a brief moment, the tension between them eased. "Sorry, kid," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I gotta do this. No hard feelings."

Collei clenched her fists, then let out a slow breath through her nose. "I don't hate you for doing this," she said quietly. "You're only doing it because she forced you to."

Yelan's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Then show her what you're made of."

She reached forward and began wrapping the duct tape tightly around Collei's right wrist, strapping it to the wheel with practiced precision. The tape pressed into her skin, locking her in place, ensuring that once she started this race, there was no going back.

The moment Yelan finished, she stood up and shut the Eight-Six's door with a quiet but final click.

Silverwolf, still leaning against her Integra, watched the whole exchange with amusement. She stretched lazily, then flashed a smug thumbs-up in Collei's direction. "See you later, sport. Try not to—"

She never got the chance to finish that sentence.

Collei didn't even hesitate.

The moment her left hand gripped the shifter, she slammed the gas pedal to the floor.

The roar of the 4A-GE engine ripped through the mountain pass like a gunshot, the sound of the exhaust bouncing off the trees and shaking the very air around them.

Silverwolf barely had time to flinch before the Eight-Six shot forward like a bullet, its tires screeching against the pavement, leaving a trail of smoke and rubber in its wake.

A burst of wind blasted back at Silverwolf, dust kicking up from the road as the sheer force of Collei's launch caught her off guard. She recoiled, stumbling half a step backward, her smirk vanishing in an instant.

"The fuck—" Silverwolf's eyes went wide.

She had expected hesitation, maybe a moment of uncertainty. She hadn't expected Collei to fucking launch like she was already in the middle of a race.

With a sharp growl, Silverwolf grabbed her door handle, threw herself into the driver's seat, and turned the key in one fluid motion. The Integra's B18C engine roared to life, a snarl of pure aggression, but she was already behind.

Silverwolf jammed the shifter into first, floored the throttle, and dumped the clutch. The Integra's tires screamed against the pavement, sending it lunging forward, racing into the night after the rapidly disappearing tail lights of the Eight-Six.

Beidou, still standing by her R32, didn't waste a second. She turned on her heel and yelled, "What the hell are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Seele and Pela sprinted for the Devil Z, nearly tripping over themselves in their hurry. Pela scrambled into the passenger seat as Seele grabbed the door handle. "But we'll never catch them!"

Beidou already had the door open and one foot inside her R32. She didn't even look back as she fired up the engine, the RB26 growling to life. "I know that! But we need to be there when something goes wrong!"

March threw herself into her Supra, turning the key and revving the engine to life, while Yelan calmly exhaled a stream of smoke, flicked her cigarette away, and climbed into the Blackbird.

The convoy roared to life all at once.

Engines revved, headlights flared against the night, and one by one, the four cars peeled out, burning rubber as they charged down Yougou in pursuit of Collei and Silverwolf.

The Eight-Six and the Integra were already deep into the first set of turns, their red taillights glowing like distant embers in the darkness.

Inside the lead car, Collei's pulse was pounding in her ears, her left hand gripping the shifter tightly. She took a deep breath, steeling herself as she approached the first turn.

Her right hand was useless, strapped firmly to the wheel, and that meant she had no room for error.

This was the Gum Tape Deathmatch.

And if Silverwolf thought she was going to walk away from this one with an easy win, she had another thing coming.

Back in the race, Collei's Eight-Six was neck and neck with Silverwolf's Integra as they flew through the deserted streets of Yougou. It was an impromptu race, no spectators, just the sound of engines roaring through the night.

Silverwolf smirked, eyes narrowing at the Eight-Six. "Alright then, Eight-Six girl. Let's see how many corners you can last!"

They approached the first left-hand corner, and Collei's heart raced as she slid into the turn. Her right hand on the wheel suddenly reached its limit—she couldn't steer any further. Panic surged in her chest as she realized she was heading for the guardrail. Desperation surged through her. She slumped forward, clutching her left wrist with her right hand and twisting it as hard as she could. The wheel turned just enough to avoid disaster.

Her heart pounded as the Eight-Six narrowly missed the guardrail, exiting the turn with a decent amount of speed.

Collei straightened herself in her seat, her voice shaky but determined. "Holy shit. That was close..."

Silverwolf's grin only widened, sensing her chance to break Collei's spirit. "That's all luck. Let's see if you can handle the rest. Eight-Six of Yougou."

They continued to race, Collei playing it cautious for the next few corners. But as she reached the third hairpin, something clicked inside her. Her eyes widened as realization struck.

"I finally understand this. The less I steer into the drift, the faster I can go through these corners. Alright, Silverwolf! I'm putting you down!"

Collei slammed her foot onto the gas, the Eight-Six surging forward with newfound ferocity. Silverwolf's eyes widened in disbelief.

"How is that possible?! All this pressure I'm putting on her, and she's not even reacting to it! It's like she's going even faster!"

As they reached the fourth hairpin, Silverwolf's composure shattered. She mashed the gas pedal, her determination spiking.

"This doesn't matter anymore. In a contest like this, all you gotta do is win!"

But in her desperation, Silverwolf made a fatal move. As they entered the hairpin, she bumped Collei's Eight-Six from behind, sending it into a 360 spin. Collei reacted with stunning speed, countersteering and managing to regain control. The Integra passed her, but the gap was minimal. The Eight-Six had only lost a car length.

Silverwolf glanced at her rearview mirror, frustration mounting. "Shit! She's lucky! In that case, I'll put down the hammer."

Silverwolf accelerated harder, trying to put more distance between herself and Collei. Meanwhile, in the Eight-Six, Collei's grip on the wheel tightened, her legs twitching with barely-contained anger.

She muttered through gritted teeth, "You fucking asshole... You did that on purpose... If it's the last thing I do in this race—"

Then she screamed, her voice a roar of defiance. "I WON'T LOSE TO AN ASSHOLE LIKE YOU!"

Collei downshifted, slamming her foot onto the gas. The Eight-Six jolted forward, the tachometer rocketing from 5000 RPMs to 8000. At this point, Collei lost all composure. Her mind was a blur, her only focus on overtaking Silverwolf.

The sound of the Eight-Six's engine echoed through the night as Collei pushed it to its absolute limits. Her foot was glued to the throttle, the tachometer screaming as she shifted through the gears. Her entire body was tense, muscles burning from the strain of trying to steer with one hand. But none of that mattered. All she could think about was catching Silverwolf.

Silverwolf, now fully aware of Collei's determination, gritted her teeth. "Tch. Persistent little brat, aren't you?" she muttered under her breath, eyes flicking between the road ahead and the rearview mirror.

The Integra was still ahead, but only barely.

Collei was closing the gap.

They flew toward the next set of turns, a brutal combination of tight hairpins and high-speed chicanes. This was where the Eight-Six should have struggled the most, given the Gum Tape Deathmatch's ridiculous one-handed restriction. But Collei wasn't about to let something as stupid as a handicap hold her back.

She focused, breathing steady, mind processing every movement—every shift, every weight transfer, every flick of the wheel.

She had already started to adapt.

The next turn was a tight right-hand hairpin, the kind that forced most drivers to slow down significantly. Silverwolf braked hard, heel-toeing through the downshift, her Integra's tires squealing in protest as she pushed the car through the corner.

Collei, however, didn't brake at all.

She downshifted aggressively, throwing the Eight-Six into the corner at an angle that should have been impossible to recover from. But instead of losing control, she let the weight of the car shift naturally, using it to her advantage.

The rear end kicked out perfectly.

Collei twisted her right wrist, using every ounce of strength to guide the car through the drift. It felt unnatural, painful even, but she kept the car stable. She could feel the tires gripping, the balance of the Eight-Six holding together.

Silverwolf's eyes widened in the rearview mirror. "No fucking way... She's keeping up?! With only one hand?!"

Collei gritted her teeth, pushing through the discomfort. "I don't need two hands to beat you. I just need one good reason!"

She floored the accelerator the moment she exited the turn, the Eight-Six roaring down the mountain road, pulling up right behind the Integra.

Silverwolf snarled, her confidence cracking. "If she keeps this up… she's actually gonna overtake me!"

She had no choice. If she let Collei maintain this momentum, she'd lose.

A sharp left-hander was coming up. Silverwolf took the inside line, blocking Collei's path. "I won't let you pass, you little shit!"

Collei didn't flinch. She read the move in an instant.

If Silverwolf was covering the inside…

Then she'd take the outside.

Without hesitation, Collei threw the Eight-Six into an ultra-wide line, sending the car dangerously close to the guardrail. It was a do-or-die move. If she miscalculated, she'd go flying off the mountain.

Silverwolf watched in horror as the Eight-Six kept gaining, its rear tires barely an inch from disaster.

Collei screamed inside the cockpit, fighting to keep the car in control.

The turn ended.

The Integra's front bumper was still ahead—

But the Eight-Six's nose had crept past Silverwolf's driver-side door.

For the first time in the race…

Collei was side-by-side with Silverwolf.

The mountain air was thick with the scent of scorched rubber and gasoline as the two cars thundered through the next corner. The road was unforgiving, twisting like a serpent through the dense forest, illuminated only by the flickering headlights of the dueling machines.

Silverwolf's Honda Integra Type R sliced through the corner with clinical precision, its LSD differential keeping the power in check as she danced along the edge of grip. The tires barely protested—it was effortless, smooth, almost like she was toying with Collei.

But the Toyota AE86 behind her was a different beast entirely.

Collei threw herself into the turn with reckless aggression. The car leaped over the curb, rear tires kicking up sparks as they barely clung to the pavement. The weight transfer was too much—the Eight-Six's rear end snapped loose, sliding out wide—

BANG!

The car slammed against the guardrail, sending a violent jolt through the chassis. Metal shrieked. The car lurched forward, barely staying in control.

But Collei didn't let off the gas.

The Eight-Six shot down the short straightaway, battered but relentless. The next S-turn loomed—no time to breathe, no time to think.

Once again, she attacked. The car hopped the curb—too fast, too unstable.

Another sickening impact. The right rear quarter panel scraped the steel barrier, paint flecking off in bursts of white and black. The violent collision sent Collei's head jerking to the side, her teeth clenched so hard her jaw ached.

But she was catching up.

And Silverwolf knew it.

Her heart pounded. "This… this isn't happening!"

She risked a glance at the rearview mirror—and what she saw made her stomach churn.

The Eight-Six, damaged, battered, and barely holding together, was still gaining on her.

"That's impossible! I'm at my limit! I can't go any faster than this!!!"

Silverwolf's hands were sweaty, fingers clenched so tightly around the wheel that her injured wrist throbbed in protest. She was losing ground.

Collei was getting closer.

She could feel it now—every turn, every weight shift, every heartbeat of the Eight-Six was talking to her, screaming at her to push harder. The guardrails didn't matter. The pain didn't matter. The damage didn't matter.

She wasn't losing.

Five hairpins left.

Silverwolf saw the green car diving inside, inches from the curb. Too close.

Panic.

She slammed the brakes—too hard. The front wheels locked up. The Integra's nose dove forward. A mistake.

Collei saw the opportunity.

She sent the Eight-Six diving into the gutter, tires screaming as they barely held onto the road.

Gutter Run.

The Eight-Six slingshotted past the Integra with a terrifying burst of speed, hugging the inside line so tight that a single miscalculation would have ended it all.

The pass was clean. Perfect. Absolute.

Silverwolf watched helplessly as Collei surged ahead, widening the gap with every brutal switchback. The hairpins vanished one by one. The Integra was being left behind.

Final straightaway.

Silverwolf's breath came in short gasps. She was out of time.

No. No, not yet.

Her grip tightened. "At this rate, I'll lose. But another little nudge won't hurt. Especially at this speed."

Her eyes darkened.

"It's time to send that junker to the scrapyard!"

She cut in hard—going for the kill.

The Integra lunged toward the Eight-Six's rear bumper, ready to spin it out at full speed.

But Collei saw it coming.

She flicked the wheel, committing to a drift at the last second. The Integra whiffed the hit, its momentum sending it spiraling off-line.

Silverwolf realized it too late.

She stabbed the brakes—wrong move.

The front wheels locked. The Integra skidded sideways—

CRASH!

The left side of the car slammed into the guardrail, metal crumpling as it scraped along the barrier in a violent firework of sparks. The screeching echoed into the night as the car ground to a halt.

The engine sputtered once.

Then fell silent.

It was over.

The Aftermath

Silverwolf sat motionless, fingers trembling as she stared at the cracked dashboard. Her wrist burned. Her heart felt heavier than the wreck in front of her.

Slowly, she pulled off the duct tape wrapped around her hand, wincing at the deep purple bruising beneath. She swallowed, exhaling shakily before stepping out of the car.

She crouched down, placing a hand on the crumpled hood. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, fingers brushing over the bent metal.

The quiet hum of engines in the distance grew louder.

She turned her head.

A convoy of cars was pulling up.

Beidou's R32 led the pack, hazard lights flashing as she signaled for everyone to stop. Doors opened. Footsteps. Stunned silence.

Beidou was the first to break it.

"No way… Silverwolf wrecked out?!"

Seele hurried over, kneeling beside Silverwolf. "Are you okay?!"

Yelan's sharp gaze fell on Silverwolf's wrist. She frowned. "That doesn't look good… It's kaput."

Beidou pointed toward her Skyline. "Come on, we're getting you to the hospital."

Silverwolf shook her head weakly. "No… After what I've done to you? I can't accept it."

Seele's voice softened. "Don't be unreasonable. It hurts like hell, doesn't it? Let us help."

March nodded, stepping closer. "Yeah, we know the nearest hospital here. Just let us take you."

Silverwolf exhaled. "Alright… Thanks… And… I'm sorry for almost wrecking you all..."

Beidou and Seele helped her into the R32.

March took one last look at the wrecked Integra.

"Collei's done it," she whispered. "She won the Gum Tape Deathmatch."

The convoy set off, leaving behind the ruined battle site.

Back at the House of Arlecchino

Collei stepped out of the car, staring at the scarred right quarter panel of her Eight-Six. A deep dent. Scratches. Chipped paint. The car had taken a beating.

And Arlecchino noticed immediately.

Her piercing gaze locked onto the damage. "What in the hell happened to the car, Collei?"

Collei hesitated, running her fingers along the dent. A mix of anger and regret weighed her voice down.

"I was battling a real asshole. She bumped me from behind, causing me to spin. I was able to recover… then suddenly… I snapped. And I gave chase."

She wiped at her eyes, frustrated.

Arlecchino placed a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Don't blame yourself," she said softly. "We all snap sometimes. Myself included. But… I wouldn't have hit the guardrails, though."

She knelt, eye-level with Collei, and smirked.

"So… did you win?"

Collei hesitated, then nodded.

"Yeah… I won the race."

Arlecchino's smirk turned into a proud grin. "That's my girl."

She turned and walked inside.

Collei was left alone with her Eight-Six.

She ran her hand over the battered bodywork, whispering: "Beidou and the others treat their cars with dignity and care... I'm so sorry… Eight-Six..."

The air around Collei was still, the night broken only by the distant hum of engines. Her heart was still racing, but now it was mixed with a sense of accomplishment, albeit tainted by the pain she felt for the damage to her beloved Eight-Six. She had pushed it past its limits—her limits. And yet, in that chaos, she had come out victorious.

The car, though battered, was a testament to the battle it had endured. She couldn't help but admire its resilience, even if she had been the one to put it through such punishment. The feeling of the engine's power beneath her, the hum of the tires gripping the road despite everything—it was something she had come to cherish, something she would never take for granted.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she crouched down next to the Eight-Six, her fingers tracing the rough edges of the scratches on the right rear quarter panel. Every mark felt like a reminder of her fight, of the obstacles she had overcome. And yet, it also reminded her of how much she had pushed herself, of how she had fought tooth and nail to claim that victory.

"Next time," she murmured to the car, "I'll treat you better."

The faint sound of footsteps behind her made her turn. Arlecchino stood there, her usual stern expression softened by a hint of pride.

"You're not letting it go, huh?" Arlecchino said, her voice steady but laced with amusement. "The car's gonna need some TLC, but it's not the end of the world."

Collei stood up slowly, wiping her hands on her jeans. "I know… but I just… I feel like I pushed it too hard this time."

Arlecchino tilted her head slightly, considering her words. "Sometimes you need to push harder to get to the next level, Collei. It's not about how perfect things are, but how you recover and keep moving forward."

Collei gave a small nod, appreciating her words. But even so, the guilt gnawed at her. The damage was real, and the Eight-Six had suffered because of her actions.

"I just…" She trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought.

"Let it go," Arlecchino said firmly, cutting her off before she could spiral any further. "You won. That's what matters. You did it with your skill, not with luck. The Eight-Six may be banged up, but it's still running. And that's something to be proud of."

A small smile tugged at Collei's lips. "Thanks, Dad."

Arlecchino's smirk returned. "Don't get too sappy on me now."

With that, Collei let out a quiet laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. The Eight-Six had won, and so had she. There would be time for repairs, time to fix what had been broken—physically and emotionally. But for now, the victory was hers, and that was something she could hold onto, even if the scars would remain.

As she walked inside, the familiar warmth of the house wrapping around her, she knew this wasn't the end of her journey. There would always be more races, more challenges, more battles to face. And she was ready. Ready to do whatever it took to keep racing, to keep moving forward.

But for tonight, she would rest. Tomorrow, the repairs would begin. And the Eight-Six would be back in action.