Act: 4 Chapter 3 | An Eight Six's Rematch Eight Six VS Lancer Evo IX

Back at Jakotsu Pass, the air carried the smell of burning rubber and faint traces of exhaust fumes. Collei stepped out of her Eight-Six, the fresh scent of warmed metal lingering around her. She pulled off her gloves, the vibration from the new engine still humming through her fingers and up her arms, as if her whole body had become an extension of the machine. Her gaze drifted down the road—down that vicious, coiling serpent of tarmac—before swinging back to meet the sound of boots on asphalt.

Feixiao approached with her usual relaxed swagger, the glow of the overhead lights catching the subtle flecks of road dust on her red and black jacket. Her eyes locked onto Collei's, sharp but friendly, with a confidence earned from years behind the wheel.

"How's it been, Collei?" she said, stopping just a step away. Her tone carried a teasing edge. "Been a month since I last saw you… since your engine blew sky-high."

A grin played on Feixiao's lips, half-smirk, half-test. She extended her hand. Collei met it without hesitation, firm and unflinching.

"I've been doing pretty well," Collei replied, her voice calm. Unbothered. But her eyes said otherwise—glinting with quiet fire.

Feixiao's gaze shifted to the Eight-Six, her head tilting slightly as she scanned the car from nose to tail. "So… it's fixed?"

"Yeah," Collei said, nodding once. "There's a new engine under the hood."

There was no pride in her tone. No need for it. The truth was in the car itself—restored, reborn, and rumbling with purpose.

"I think it's time for us to race."

Feixiao's smirk widened into a grin, her posture straightening with anticipation. "I'm always up for a challenge. Let's do this—right now."

Without skipping a beat, she laid down the rules.

"One-round downhill. We go all the way to the third bridge. If you cross the finish line first, it's yours. But if I pass you and get to the finish first, I win. Sound fair?"

Collei's nod was slow and deliberate, her stare razor-sharp. "Got it."

Feixiao clapped her hands once, the sound echoing in the cool night air. "Alright then. Let's make it count."

Engines flared to life—two mechanical beasts awakened from slumber.

Collei slid into the bucket seat of her Eight-Six, the cabin embracing her like an old friend. She twisted the key with a practiced hand, and the engine barked to life—raspy, high-pitched, and alive. Her gauges lit up in a glow of red and white, and the tachometer needle bounced with restless energy.

Feixiao fired up her Lancer Evolution IX, the whine of the turbocharger spooling up even at idle. The unmistakable rhythmic pops of the misfiring system pulsed from the exhaust like distant gunfire. It sounded like it wanted blood.

They lined up side by side at the summit's edge, just a few feet before the drop. Feixiao gave Collei a nod through the glass. Collei didn't return it. Her hands were already on the wheel—ten and two—her eyes locked forward.

Then—gas pedal down. The Eight-Six launched forward with a guttural snarl, rear tires chirping against the pavement. Her new engine screamed its way up the rev band, each shift a violent snap forward. The tach needle soared past ten… ten-five… eleven-thousand RPM before she slammed the gear lever into second, then third. Her shifts were lightning-fast, brutal, no wasted motion.

Feixiao's Evo lunged after her like a predator let loose from its cage. The turbo howled in high pitch, and every lift-off detonated with thundercracks from the tailpipe. She was already dancing on the edge of adhesion, keeping Collei in her crosshairs, analyzing every movement.

The first straight stretched out ahead—long and deceptive. Collei's Eight-Six held the lead cleanly, the engine howling as she hit fourth gear. Wind tore at her windows, and the road blurred into a funnel of motion and pressure.

Feixiao narrowed her eyes behind the wheel, her voice a mutter to herself. "That engine's different. Still N/A… but it pulls like a damn banshee. High-revving, light throttle input… smooth transition curve. That's not a stock rebuild. That's something else entirely."

The first corner came fast—a harsh left-hand hairpin, sudden and tight. Both drivers hit the brakes hard, the noses of their machines dipping slightly.

Collei downshifted in a blur of heel-toe precision—fourth to third, then second, slamming the clutch out just as the revs matched. The back end broke loose in a controlled arc as she initiated the drift, the tires howling like banshees. She modulated the throttle through the turn, countersteering with small, precise inputs—just enough to keep the car balanced on the knife's edge of oversteer.

The AE86 carved through the corner like it belonged there.

Feixiao came in hot right behind her, her AWD Evo biting hard into the road. The misfiring system barked, and she used her superior grip to power through the corner without oversteering. But Collei still held the lead.

They flew out of the exit, engines screaming. Six hairpins followed—brutal, snaking cuts through the mountain, each with its own unique angle and camber. Collei flowed through them like water—weight transfer perfect, brake points exact, throttle modulation tight as wire.

Feixiao kept pushing, trying every trick in the book. Left-foot braking, throttle blips, trailing the brake to pivot the Evo's weight into sharper rotation. Flames burst from her exhaust under deceleration, lighting up the cliffside. But the gap didn't shrink.

"This isn't the same Eight-Six," she thought, frowning as she watched Collei disappear momentarily behind another curve. "It's a ghost. Fast, clean, fearless. That engine… it's got pro tuning. That's a 20-valve head. High compression. Close-ratio gearbox. Every shift's right in the meat of the powerband."

Up ahead, the next challenge loomed—a brutal, off-camber 180-degree right-hander that curled around the mountain wall. It was a death trap at high speed, and Collei knew it.

She didn't slow down.

She flicked the wheel left, then yanked it right—initiation. The tail of the Eight-Six broke free instantly. She stabbed the clutch, let the revs scream in second gear, then caught the slide with a countersteer so quick it looked reflexive. Tires shrieked in fury as she held the drift all the way through the curve, teetering on the edge of the cliff, inches from disaster.

Feixiao followed seconds later, her Lancer tucked in, chassis twitching under the strain. The grip advantage of her AWD helped, but she could feel the limitation. "She's dancing with the car. I'm just chasing."

Her hands tightened on the wheel.

"Time to change the rhythm."

As they approached the final stretch, the roar of engines and the brutal wail of tortured tires echoed through the night, reaching the ears of scattered spectators lining the roadside. Headlights flashed across the jagged asphalt like war beacons. Feixiao's Evo IX barked with relentless precision, its anti-lag system spitting out gunshot-like bursts that cracked through the air and startled onlookers, sending a few stumbling back from the guardrails.

But Feixiao wasn't sparing them a glance. Her knuckles were tight on the steering wheel, her pupils laser-locked on the glowing red taillights of the Eight-Six ahead. The glare of her HID projectors flickered in Collei's mirrors like a hunter's gaze.

The narrow hairpins are done, she thought grimly, body low in the seat, elbows locked, brain calculating. The next section's all sweepers and speed. This is where I strike.

They blitzed through the first bridge, their engines roaring in tandem—Collei's naturally aspirated four screaming at the high end of its power band, crisp and relentless; Feixiao's turbocharged inline-four snarling like a beast behind a cage, each shift punctuated with the Evo's aggressive misfire. Their harmonic chaos merged into a singular mechanical symphony that vibrated off the mountain walls and shook the very bones of Jakotsu Valley.

The Evo edged in. Its nose crept dangerously close to the AE86's bumper, almost kissing it with every dip and rise of the elevation. The road ahead opened wide, just long enough to give Feixiao what she needed.

Second bridge coming up. Then the fast right. That's the key.

She dropped a gear and planted the throttle. The Evo surged forward like a missile loosed from a silo, the blow-off valve shrieking as she closed the gap. They swept into the wide left-hander—fast and shallow—where Feixiao dove for the inside line, using the Evo's superior grip and torque to pull up beside the Eight-Six.

For the briefest second, their fenders were level. Side mirror to side mirror. Two silhouettes tearing through the night at impossible speed, framed against a backdrop of pale moonlight and jagged ridgelines. The night wind screamed through their open windows. Brakes glowed. Rotors howled.

Feixiao's heart pounded. She grinned through clenched teeth. Just a few more meters. Keep this line steady. By the third bridge, she's mine.

But Collei wasn't about to let her have it.

Her eyes narrowed, locked on the sweeping right-hander just ahead—the final high-speed corner before the third bridge. Her left hand clenched the steering wheel tighter, right hand floating over the shifter. Her voice was quiet, but firm.

"Now or never."

She never lifted.

The AE86 dove into the curve like a bullet fired off-axis. At a glance, it looked suicidal. The rear end broke loose with a savage snap, tires howling in protest as she threw the car sideways, committing to a full-speed drift that defied logic. The rear bumper swung wide, inches from the rusted steel guardrail lining the outer edge.

Inside the Evo, Feixiao's eyes widened, her hands tensing instinctively on the wheel. "What the hell!?" she barked, her voice cracking with disbelief. "Are you fucking insane!? You're going in too hot! You can't possibly—there's no room to—!"

She was too deep into the line to abort. Forced to match the entry or risk losing the position, she turned in hard—but the Evo's AWD setup resisted the drift. The chassis understeered for a heartbeat before snapping into oversteer as the rear slipped loose, catching Feixiao in the gray zone between control and chaos.

Collei, meanwhile, was ice cold. Her foot danced on the throttle with mechanical precision, feathering the gas to maintain balance. The 4A-GE's raspy shriek echoed through the cockpit as the tach needle stayed pinned above 9,000. She made no corrections—just razor-steady inputs, her steering locked at the perfect counterangle as the car traced an arc of perfect speed and insanity.

"Come on, Eight-Six," she whispered, her voice steady but tight, nearly lost under the wind and RPMs. "Hold the line. Just a little longer…"

At the apex, the AE86 was already recovering. Tires bit hard into the pavement. The nose snapped forward. The car launched out of the curve like a slingshot released, leaving Feixiao wide in the exit lane, still wrestling to get the Evo under control.

"I—I can't hold it!" Feixiao grunted, her teeth grinding. The car twitched, tires stammering over uneven patches of road. Her reflexes saved her from clipping the guardrail, but her momentum died just enough.

She had to lift.

And in that fraction of hesitation, the gap exploded.

Collei shot forward like a phantom, tires screaming, chassis twitching in controlled chaos. The third bridge approached in a blur of headlights and steel. And then it was gone.

The Eight-Six tore past the finish line a heartbeat ahead.

Behind her, the Evo's headlights shrank in the mirror. Feixiao crossed seconds later, engine still roaring but spirit momentarily quieted. She let off the throttle, coasting down to a pull-off at the intersection. A deep exhale escaped her lips, half frustration, half admiration.

She flicked on her hazards and killed the engine. Silence reclaimed the mountain.

Minutes later, under the pale wash of moonlight, the two racers stood face-to-face by the roadside. The heat from both cars shimmered in the cool air, hissing from exhaust pipes and brake calipers. Feixiao rested her hands on her hips, shaking her head with a tired but amused smile.

"I'll be damned," she muttered, then laughed. "Collei, you're fucking incredible. I'm seriously impressed."

Collei rubbed the back of her neck, cheeks flushed with quiet embarrassment. "Oh… um… thanks, Feixiao," she murmured, voice soft and uncertain, as if she wasn't used to hearing praise like that.

Feixiao chuckled, her grin widening. "Don't be modest. You earned it." She extended her hand.

Collei didn't hesitate. Their handshake was firm—more than a gesture. It was a declaration of mutual respect, hard-earned and sealed in rubber, oil, and fire.

Feixiao turned toward her Evo and paused, glancing over her shoulder. "That was a damn good race," she said. "We'll meet again. You can count on it."

She swung the door open, dropped into the bucket seat, and thumbed the ignition. The engine barked to life with a low growl. With a final rev, she peeled off into the night, taking the right turn at the intersection and vanishing into the winding ascent, her taillights fading between the trees.

Collei stood alone under the stars, the Eight-Six idling behind her. Its engine ticked softly as it cooled, the scent of burning rubber still lingering in the air.

Another night conquered. Another ghost left behind in the mountains.

Another victory, claimed by the girl with the green hair and the black-and-white Eight-Six.