The car rattled through the corners, and the racing that followed, for the absolute rookie, was inevitably a bit of clear air. Occasional blue flag, with Hamilton, Verstappen and even Bottas passing by. Yet in their own race, they were holding their own. Valkyrie really was onto something here- and they knew this could change all of a sudden, a few retirements and they would be bumped. Kasumi was in front though, and that to Hugo was only a temptation- and with a slight turn up of engine mode, Hugo was keeping up, and through the DRS The chequered flag was coming- and it all felt a little anti-climactic. Apart from their little race that was, and Hugo knew no matter what, he could not make contact with her. But she'd know the same too...and he was up on delta. It would be a matter of time before he was in a position to overtake, the green and white liveried F1 car roaring through the last corner and back onto the start/finish straight again. --------- [h2]Part Five: The Underground[/h2] [h3]Los Angeles, California[/h3] [img]https://live.staticflickr.com/7414/27302339295_8e2a20feaf_b.jpg[/img] OST: [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KT7F15T9VBI]Heat Waves- Glass Animals[/url] [i]Post Meet, Two Days Later[/i] Sitting on the beanbag in the AirBnB felt a little deflating to Max, the feeling of sitting around and doing nothing not really appealing to him much. The rush of unpacking the R33, going straight to a meet and straight into a serious street race had given him a surge of energy, a rush that he couldn't compare to back home. But reality had hit home. You had to make your bank to keep afloat, and out here, he hoped he'd find some work in the scene. Magnus had talked about it, but he'd been far too busy to pick up his phone, probably dealing with a heap of other shit right now. It pissed Max off, he was hardly patient for it, but then again, that was life. The problem with high heat races of course was that even without a plate, a bright white R33 was gonna show up on the streets like a magnet. It was far too hot, so for right now, he'd been chilling, getting his shit together, and figuring out other options. He was on a temporary visa after all, an ESTA, and the car was totally not legit if he was pulled over properly beyond his fake plates for it, a right hand drive import after all. A weapon, but taking it outside LA was gonna be a risk, though if all went well, he'd sort himself out something local. Finding work wasn't legit either, but hell, there was always work moving stuff, being a getaway driver, doing the grime, and back home had problems. Shit he didn't want to think about, the world of drugs and county lines too messy to be involved in, and greedy fuckers getting a mark on his back. Something he didn't need to show. To be honest, it wasn't a problem now he was here. His YouTube of the race was popping, and while he hated exposing the scene he loved, it sure fucking got views. It got cred, and in time, it'd pay off. Work would come through, it just had to, right? So there was one thing left that came to mind. Perhaps a random call as he scrolled through socials, feeling a bit more like he could muster up the courage to do it. Behind the wheel he might have been fearless, and in the streets too, but he was a bit introverted. At home with his wrenches and tools and kit. Maybe even with a piece, but shit, people were fucking complicated and couldn't be fixed with an 8mm spanner. Kait seemed cool, and right now, outside of Magnus and a couple of other guys he was waiting for some word on, was the only other person he knew in LA. Flicking his WhatsApp, he hit the record, not being able to type the words. "Hey Kait, uhhh....I thought I'd drop you a line, see how you were doing. Look, I feel bad about the other night, not saying goodbye properly. Thought if you're up for it, fancy grabbing a coffee in Hollywood? I think this place I just pinged you seems decent...may keep off my car for now after you know what. Up to you totally, just trying to figure this town out....uhh yeah, cheers." Max tried to remain as smooth as possible, yet inside knew he wouldn't be. With a sigh, he leaned back in the beanbag, staring up at the ceiling fan on the mid-day lunch, exhaling a long hard breath.