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Chapter XXII:
“Well, where the hell is he?”
“Don't know. Took off after he lost.”
“Amazing. Just great...”
“W...What do we do...?”
“No idea, besides finding him.”
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
I drove, and drove, and drove.
Finally, I stopped on a deserted stretch of road.
“Why...”
No idea how long I was sitting there.
Until...
“What in the name of God...”
“Hello again.”
“...Federigo. What do you want...”
“Namely, for you to die.”
“Hmmm? What did you just say?”
“Preoccupied thanks to your loss at Fuji, I see. You always were susceptible to mental pressure... and the rev limiter we had installed on that GT-R also helped a lot.”
“...”
“Silence won't help you now... You don't get it, do you?”
“No.”
“Alright, you need a lesson.”
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
I... admired John for his style of racing and how he never let anything (or anyone) bother him. The Silent was his nickname. Ice-cold, but not unpleasant.
I wanted to... be like he was. I couldn't.
When he left, I dominated until the series was reorganized – my only advantage left was being a 4WD racer. I fought a losing battle with the Calsonic team, among others.
When John came back, he was a changed man. He was still silent, but he had lost his demeanor. Was more susceptible to emotions. And... when I went on a drinking spree, he cared for a girl more than an old friend.
And then... I lost at Tsukuba to that very same girl.
“Inexcusable,” the boss had said.
“To get your reputation back... you must... defeat... Emily Rostock and Corentin Baudoin. Van Druten is MINE. Capture him alive.”
I am obeying that to the letter.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
This... can't be true.
“Don't think I'm lying.”
You idiot... you just gave me information. The problem is... how in the 🤬 can I use it?
“Ah... your... transport... arrives.”
“Welcome to your final ride.”
“You... really believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Wrong...”
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
BLAM. BLAM. BLAM.
He wasn't joking. I had to fire three shots – and peel out of the highway like a bat out of hell.
CRACK.
The rear window shattered as the guy in the Jag fired his pistol.
“I can replace that... but not a friendship, or these wasted years...”
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Later...
“This is where the shootings occurred?”
“About. We found two shots from a gun that appear to match the size of the M1911 bullets you mentioned. Also... Two witnesses mentioned seeing a race car and a black sedan leaving the area at high speed.”
The police were helpful enough. But still incompetent. No one had noticed the white Skyline leaving, like I had. I had an idea of where he would be going, but... it wasn't a good one. More like... an old hideout in the bad old days of the 1990s JGTC.
Having a rich father does help, even if it may only be for paying medical bills, bankrolling, and free race cars.
I left and made my way to the “Hideout”. So aptly named... and still had that smell of fish.
“Druten... Where in the hell are you...”
Hmmm... Was he not here? My guesses are usually correct... But, I may be wrong.
A surgically repaired nose does help somewhat... blocks the smell of fish. And the smell of burnt rubber.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
An anonymous tip had led us to this location, and we had called the police after finding the... evidence.
“He was here... He had a M1911.”
“Hmmm... Doesn't add up.”
“Why?”
“There were three cars – look at the skidmarks. Two, I might understand. I recognize the Skyline's markings, and there was some heavy luxury sedan as well. Still...”
“What is it...”
“I don't get this set of markings. They're slicks.”
“As in... a race car?”
“Yes. But... why...”
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Pain. Lots of pain. The wasted years.
I seriously began to doubt myself whether I could go on... after a betrayal like that.
It hurt me deeply... that someone would turn so evil like that.
But... I also realized... maybe it was ME who had turned bad.
I heard an approaching car. Sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it...
Druten... Where are you...
Nowhere, 🤬. Thought you were dead, and now you've come to finish the job Federigo started? Nice.
“I'm just here to talk."
Liar.
“Seriously. You wonder how I found this place?”
“...What exactly do you want...”
“Where are you, anyway? Well... I want to offer you a deal.”
“...What exactly do you mean?”
"I... I mean... WE - as in my father, extended family, and I - know of the issues you are having with Federigo.
I had a clear shot on him, and he still couldn't see me.
"Explain."
This is a long - but totally true story.
"I thought you were... incapacitated."
“I... mainly am. Prosthetic legs included. Alright... Here we go. There's... a rivalry that stretches back to the 1950s at stake. Calsonic, or my grand-uncle to be exact, founded a tradition in the 1950s. There's always been a rivalry between our family... and two others. We believed one line to have died back in 2005... until we found you again.”
Lineage has no place in motorsport... The Andretti Curse still exists, dammit.
"And... exactly what does this have to do with me?"
You used to drive for Calsonic until 1995. My father still remembers how good of a driver you were. We can't offer you a position in the racing team, due to security issues and this... fighting familes thing, but...
"Name what you want. And about this family rivalry..."
“Well... It just got escalated. My cousin has been found dead, poisoned. She drove in the GT300 class for WedsSport...”
“Ah. The Celica team...”
“Correct. Cusco Racing, also in the GT300 class, had to let go of their driver because of a medical ailment... which never manifested itself before. We believe that this... family... is trying to assert their dominance.”
“Much like the Mafia and their dons.”
“Ouch... that's a harsh but accurate description. Federigo... is the frontman for this... attempted empire of racing. There is someone working behind the scenes, but we have been unable to ID him or her YET.”
“So... you think I'm a casualty of this, just by having a historic name?”
“Sadly. Plus the new... rivalry with Federigo.”
“You still haven't answered me...”
“We want you to... act like you normally do. Your talent is good enough to win against everyone, except maybe that damn vindictive Russian... He's second-in-command to the Boss.”
“You still don't get it... What's in it for me?”
“Ummm...”
"You do know that if I won on that Fuji race... I would have been driving for Cusco?
“Yeah... We sorta set that up. Otto's a good decoy man.”
🤬. He fooled me good...
I'll contact the Cusco racing team to tell them you've accepted. But, remember... Be careful. Both sides are playing for keeps here.
"Fine. I'll play your game."
“... Alright. You obviously understand what you're up against – I hope. There are some... factors... that may be a problem. Tell Emily, Corentin, and Han about this - and no one else.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Almost. I had almost done it. He had gotten me with a shot, though.
The pain was immense, but I was functional. Hyped up on painkillers, maybe.
“So... the plan is in motion?”
“Yes, but not 100% in the way you wanted, sir.”
“But... it's working?”
“Yes.”
“Then we make sure it works right.”
Fin Chapter XXII
“Well, where the hell is he?”
“Don't know. Took off after he lost.”
“Amazing. Just great...”
“W...What do we do...?”
“No idea, besides finding him.”
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
I drove, and drove, and drove.
Finally, I stopped on a deserted stretch of road.
“Why...”
No idea how long I was sitting there.
Until...
“What in the name of God...”
“Hello again.”
“...Federigo. What do you want...”
“Namely, for you to die.”
“Hmmm? What did you just say?”
“Preoccupied thanks to your loss at Fuji, I see. You always were susceptible to mental pressure... and the rev limiter we had installed on that GT-R also helped a lot.”
“...”
“Silence won't help you now... You don't get it, do you?”
“No.”
“Alright, you need a lesson.”
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
I... admired John for his style of racing and how he never let anything (or anyone) bother him. The Silent was his nickname. Ice-cold, but not unpleasant.
I wanted to... be like he was. I couldn't.
When he left, I dominated until the series was reorganized – my only advantage left was being a 4WD racer. I fought a losing battle with the Calsonic team, among others.
When John came back, he was a changed man. He was still silent, but he had lost his demeanor. Was more susceptible to emotions. And... when I went on a drinking spree, he cared for a girl more than an old friend.
And then... I lost at Tsukuba to that very same girl.
“Inexcusable,” the boss had said.
“To get your reputation back... you must... defeat... Emily Rostock and Corentin Baudoin. Van Druten is MINE. Capture him alive.”
I am obeying that to the letter.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
This... can't be true.
“Don't think I'm lying.”
You idiot... you just gave me information. The problem is... how in the 🤬 can I use it?
“Ah... your... transport... arrives.”
“Welcome to your final ride.”
“You... really believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Wrong...”
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
BLAM. BLAM. BLAM.
He wasn't joking. I had to fire three shots – and peel out of the highway like a bat out of hell.
CRACK.
The rear window shattered as the guy in the Jag fired his pistol.
“I can replace that... but not a friendship, or these wasted years...”
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Later...
“This is where the shootings occurred?”
“About. We found two shots from a gun that appear to match the size of the M1911 bullets you mentioned. Also... Two witnesses mentioned seeing a race car and a black sedan leaving the area at high speed.”
The police were helpful enough. But still incompetent. No one had noticed the white Skyline leaving, like I had. I had an idea of where he would be going, but... it wasn't a good one. More like... an old hideout in the bad old days of the 1990s JGTC.
Having a rich father does help, even if it may only be for paying medical bills, bankrolling, and free race cars.
I left and made my way to the “Hideout”. So aptly named... and still had that smell of fish.
“Druten... Where in the hell are you...”
Hmmm... Was he not here? My guesses are usually correct... But, I may be wrong.
A surgically repaired nose does help somewhat... blocks the smell of fish. And the smell of burnt rubber.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
An anonymous tip had led us to this location, and we had called the police after finding the... evidence.
“He was here... He had a M1911.”
“Hmmm... Doesn't add up.”
“Why?”
“There were three cars – look at the skidmarks. Two, I might understand. I recognize the Skyline's markings, and there was some heavy luxury sedan as well. Still...”
“What is it...”
“I don't get this set of markings. They're slicks.”
“As in... a race car?”
“Yes. But... why...”
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Pain. Lots of pain. The wasted years.
I seriously began to doubt myself whether I could go on... after a betrayal like that.
It hurt me deeply... that someone would turn so evil like that.
But... I also realized... maybe it was ME who had turned bad.
I heard an approaching car. Sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it...
Druten... Where are you...
Nowhere, 🤬. Thought you were dead, and now you've come to finish the job Federigo started? Nice.
“I'm just here to talk."
Liar.
“Seriously. You wonder how I found this place?”
“...What exactly do you want...”
“Where are you, anyway? Well... I want to offer you a deal.”
“...What exactly do you mean?”
"I... I mean... WE - as in my father, extended family, and I - know of the issues you are having with Federigo.
I had a clear shot on him, and he still couldn't see me.
"Explain."
This is a long - but totally true story.
"I thought you were... incapacitated."
“I... mainly am. Prosthetic legs included. Alright... Here we go. There's... a rivalry that stretches back to the 1950s at stake. Calsonic, or my grand-uncle to be exact, founded a tradition in the 1950s. There's always been a rivalry between our family... and two others. We believed one line to have died back in 2005... until we found you again.”
Lineage has no place in motorsport... The Andretti Curse still exists, dammit.
"And... exactly what does this have to do with me?"
You used to drive for Calsonic until 1995. My father still remembers how good of a driver you were. We can't offer you a position in the racing team, due to security issues and this... fighting familes thing, but...
"Name what you want. And about this family rivalry..."
“Well... It just got escalated. My cousin has been found dead, poisoned. She drove in the GT300 class for WedsSport...”
“Ah. The Celica team...”
“Correct. Cusco Racing, also in the GT300 class, had to let go of their driver because of a medical ailment... which never manifested itself before. We believe that this... family... is trying to assert their dominance.”
“Much like the Mafia and their dons.”
“Ouch... that's a harsh but accurate description. Federigo... is the frontman for this... attempted empire of racing. There is someone working behind the scenes, but we have been unable to ID him or her YET.”
“So... you think I'm a casualty of this, just by having a historic name?”
“Sadly. Plus the new... rivalry with Federigo.”
“You still haven't answered me...”
“We want you to... act like you normally do. Your talent is good enough to win against everyone, except maybe that damn vindictive Russian... He's second-in-command to the Boss.”
“You still don't get it... What's in it for me?”
“Ummm...”
"You do know that if I won on that Fuji race... I would have been driving for Cusco?
“Yeah... We sorta set that up. Otto's a good decoy man.”
🤬. He fooled me good...
I'll contact the Cusco racing team to tell them you've accepted. But, remember... Be careful. Both sides are playing for keeps here.
"Fine. I'll play your game."
“... Alright. You obviously understand what you're up against – I hope. There are some... factors... that may be a problem. Tell Emily, Corentin, and Han about this - and no one else.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Almost. I had almost done it. He had gotten me with a shot, though.
The pain was immense, but I was functional. Hyped up on painkillers, maybe.
“So... the plan is in motion?”
“Yes, but not 100% in the way you wanted, sir.”
“But... it's working?”
“Yes.”
“Then we make sure it works right.”
Fin Chapter XXII
Last edited:
