Chapter 176

I can’t believe this was happening.

 

“The Caliburn is the best!” Malcolm argued with this random gonk at the diner pointing at him with a french fry like he was going to stab him,

 

“Bull shit. It’s overpriced, over hyped garbage. Also it’s digital acceleration is fucking broken!”

“The fuck it is! It drives perfectly!”

“It’s complete dogshit, and you would know if you weren’t some gonk fuck street kid Rayfield fuckboy that has never been in a Caliburn.”

“Bitch I own one!” Malcolm roared standing up and I just put my head in my hands.

 

I just wanted lunch. I was even paying. So why couldn’t Malcolm just leave the stupid looking guy at the diners bar talking shit about the Rayfield commercial alone?

 

“What is your last name Arasaka or something? Bullshit lying little punk!”

 

“Oh I’ll fucking prove it choom, I’ll have you apologize and grovel to the best car in Night City when it arrives!” He called out, I could already see his eyes having flashed to call his Caliburn here.

 

Dammit Malcolm, I didn’t want to stay here all afternoon. I had…

 

Okay I didn’t have anything else to do, it’s not like I had a normal job, but the point stands!

 

In the end I just flopped my head onto the table as I waited for the car to show up, and did my best to ignore the fact that Malcolm and this random gonk would not stop fucking arguing about it.

 

Gearheads are the most obtuse of all super fans I decided.

 

Besides everyone knows the Quadra was the best.

 

The arguing continued and I was sure both of these idiots would have been thrown out if we weren’t the only people in the diner at the moment.

 

Then about twenty minutes later Malcolms Rayfield pulled into the lot.

 

“What the fuck.” The guy said as he had been looking out the window behind Malcolm and saw it arrive.

 

“Hah! Get ready to weep choom, because I do own a Caliburn!” Malcolm crowed out his Victory as he sauntered out the door and walked up to the car. The door opened at his approach.

 

“No fucking way.”

“Way.” I answered as I rose up and threw some eddies at the owner for the food. I walked out and Malcolm was leaning up against the car with a cocky grin staring at the windows of the diner.

 

“Malcolm, your ego is showing.” I muttered as I walked past him to my Quadra. Right next to the rather modded out Quadra Sport R-7.

 

I had a feeling I knew the other guy’s choice in vehicles.

 

“Alright choom. Alright. You win on this one. You’re daddy certainly has a lot of eddies.” The other guy calls out, and that just sets Malcolm off.

 

“Fuck you! This is my car you gonk bitch!”

“Yeah, I doubt it kid. How about we prove it. A nice little race, my R-7 and your Rayfield, you know how to drive that thing don’t you?”

“Course I do!” Malcolm said knowing damn well that he didn’t. I sighed as the two boys got into an argument that led to me sitting in the Rayfield next to Malcolm as he squeezed the steering wheel tightly. The R-7 was beside us, engine rumbling as we waited for the light to change.

 

“I turned on launch control. I’m gonna blow this gonk fucker away.” Malcolm muttered and I hummed a bit.

 

I had a feeling Malcolm was about to get left in the dust.

 

“Just don’t risk your car for a race that doesn’t matter.”

“It’ll be fine Motoko! Just trust me!”

 

I very specifically tugged on the seatbelt reminding him I was wearing it.

 

“Fuck off.” He grumbled, but then he focused up.

 

The lights were changing, The R-7 rumbled its engine and I instantly knew what was about to happen.

 

The Rayfield’s launch control relied on the engine being idle before it activated.

 

Instantly Malcolm, rumbled his engine back, The Turbo charged V10 of the Caliburn roared up, and the launch control activated trying to launch the car at the same time as the brake was held down, then the light changed. The R-7 was gone, burning rubber off the street line, as Malcolms Caliburn sputtered forward and nearly stalled out, before he managed to adjust it and take off.

 

“No no no no!” He howled as he roared after, but the R-7 was modded and it was obvious that Malcolm wouldn’t catch up before they hit the next light.

 

“That… Was both very smart, and an asshole move.” I mentioned as I considered how much car knowledge it took to do that kind of shit.

 

“I don’t want to hear it!” Malcolm snapped as he continued trying to catch up, but by the time we got anywhere near the R-7 it was already slowing down after the next light and pulling over. Then Malcolm pulled in behind the R-7, and jumped out

 

“What the fuck!” He yelled at the guy that was also, stepping out, with a cocky grin.

 

“What? You got smoked kid. Better learn to use Daddys car before trying to race it.”

“You fucking asshole!”

“Hey Malcolm, chill.” I demanded as I hurried around the car and grabbed him. Malcolm was seething, looking like he was going to throw fists over this.

 

“Hey brats. Watch yourself, or else.” The man demanded and I stilled.

 

Turning around I saw the man holding a gun in his hand having drawn it.

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The Nova he was using to intimidate a couple of brat kids. Okay. At this point in time the guy had passed over the realm of acceptable conduct.

 

He forced Malcolm into a race, tricked him, and then when Malcolm was pissed pulled a gun despite Malcolm not being anywhere near him.

 

It took half a second to turn his gun into a nice paperweight as my eyes flashed into hacking the damn thing, and then I pushed Malcolm back and stalked forward.

 

“What? You some crazy bitch? Don’t think I-Hey!” He yelped as I continued to approach, he aimed the gun at my center mass and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

 

Which is right when I grabbed his outstretched wrist, twisted, pulled, unbalanced him and launched my other fist right into his face.

 

Ignoring the scream from inside of his date I enjoyed the moment as he crashed into the asphalt.

 

“Fuck you asshole.” I said simply as I turned back to Malcolm. Malcolm who looked a little conflicted.

 

“I really wanted to do that.”

“Eh, you shouldn’t have tried to punch him for tricking you. That was a dick move, but acceptable. Live and learn. But some gonk pulling a gun is a different story. C’mon let’s get out of here.”

 

Malcolm didn’t move at first. The guy cursed and thrashed as he rose back to his feet, blood pouring down his nose, but eventually Malcolm scoffed and smirked and walked back to the Caliburn.

 

Then we were off.

 

“Satisfied?” I asked as he floored it past the R-7 and the fucker.

 

“No. Not at all actually. I… I got tricked like a fucking gonk, and it’s my fault.”

 

“Mistakes happen.” I said as comfortingly as I could.

 

“I just… I feel like a fucking gonk. I should have known better.”

“Experience is important… Why don’t you start racing and stuff. Practice it I mean?” I remembered there were races all over the place.

 

Didn’t I get invited to a race once? I vaguely recall it happening.

 

“Maybe I will! Thanks Motoko. For… You know, backing me up.”

“No problem.”

 

—–

 

It was kinda weird, but I felt a bit bored.