Two more laps and it's yours, Cesar."
Nothing was ever "yours" until you crossed the finish line with the best time, but he didn't say that to his crew chief talking to him through the mic in his helmet.
"You're coming up on turn four. Watch out for Prinz. He's starting to make his run."
"I see him."
"Rykert has hit the cement wall. There's debris. Go inside."
Cesar made the correction. Coming out of the turn he saw what was left of Rykert's car. Smoke poured from it like a genie escaping a bottle. Then his heart failed him as part of Prinz's chassis flew at Cesar out of nowhere. Zero hope of escape. This was it.
"I'm a dead man."
No sooner did the words leave his mouth than the impact of gut crunching debris tossed him in an arc across the track. He experienced blinding flashes of light before being sucked into an acrid smelling black vortex.
"Cesar?"
He felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently.
"Cesar?"
Cesar de Falcon, known ...
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