Not for you (FIN)

>...and just because I just love things like that...

Facts & Trivia for this chapter:


I *think* I already mentioned it somewhere; as I have never seen the US Racewars, I had to use the rules of the German Racewars here, which, I assume, won't be too different from the US version. I took some liberty, though, because at the 'official' races you don't race for money - that's done in a special area outside the race camp. If you'd like to know more... ask me.

The blue dress is still in my possession. I don't fit into it any more, though.

The number '282' denotes my birthday. Whenever it was possible in races, I chose it as a number for my car.

The ATESSA system is unique to the Nissan Skyline, a traction control which, when driving off, first *only* works on the front wheels, then, some seconds later, on the back wheels. This is the reason why the Skyline is capable of producing short burnouts (=wheels spinning on the ground even if the car is not moving), even if it's technically a 4WD.

The 'steam' blow-off system that can be seen on Brian's Skyline at the beginning of the first race in 2F2F is, indeed, a Nitrous purging system, good for nothing but show-off as usually the nitrous tubes are not affected by condensed water, because there's too much pressure on them... at least if they're correctly installed.

The 'turbo-smoking' described in this chapter really works and actually took place during one of my own races about fifteen years ago - Ford Escort RS Turbo vs. Ford Fiesta XR2i (the latter was mine) - that event was too good to leave it out of the story, I think. The smoke back then was caused by a fire at the side of the road, though, for which no one but a farmer was responsible.

The line "I heard you were so cool if you lose." is, hopefully, self explaining. A man who *still* grins like a madman when losing his car in a race, just as Brian did in TFATF's first (movie) race, *is* cool, right?





I was just about to grab my trusted jumpsuit from the chair where it was placed, it was still a bit wet from my sweat. Its smell was also not really pleasant. Then the meaning of Dom's words finally found their way into my brain. Not a real girl? No dress up? I smirked. You'll see, Dom, you'll see, I thought .

In a hurry, I replaced the bed with the usual dining table and rummaged through the hidden cabinet under the seat which was used for very rarely used clothing... Michael, of course, hadn't been wrong about his statement that I actually owned dresses - and had taken some of them with me... just in case...

When I drove towards the starting line almost exactly eight minutes later, Brian was the first I passed. He was leaning to the hood of his car and had a plastic cup with a drink in his hand, but when he looked inside the car, he just dropped it, as I could see in my back mirror. I grinned, then tried to look as cool and unimpressed as I could possibly manage. Dom, who stood on the other side of the starting line, could only see my face, if any, and I temporarily parked with the front of my car towards him so that he would only be able to see me fully when I had actually gotten out and closed the door.

Which I, after taking a deep breath, did. That current 'costume' of mine had some advantages for sure, but also some disadvantages; and there was now also the question how he would react to it. I had chosen one of the few dresses I used to wear years ago, when I still enjoyed dancing in Clubs back in Germany.

This one here was a blue dress, stretch material, going to about mid thigh and closing with a zipper at the front - which was opened to about chest level. The sleeves and sides had already been decorated with white double stripes, and I had taken some seconds to quickly tear off some of the racing patches that originally were on my baggy jumpsuit and pin them with safety pins to that dress. It looked like a racing jumpsuit, just that it was a short dress. With it I wore my blue racing boots that went to mid calf; and having no time to do much about it, I just brushed my hair and let it hang down my back. Just a bit of makeup on my face, that was enough. I didn't want to overdo it.

I smiled to myself. The advantage was most certainly that most people here would underestimate me greatly, but the disadvantage could be that even more people might think I was easy to have. I was nervous, definitely, about how the others would accept this outfit of mine and even more about how I would do at that first race.

When I snapped the door close behind me, I raised a hand to greet him, and then, unconsciously, started to scratch my upper arm. Dominic stood there, arms crossed before his chest, showed a broad grin and gave me a thumb up. Vince next to him stared at me open mouthed, and Dom, letting his hand come up, closed it by pushing Vince's chin with his still upturned thumb.

"Hello, Heidi," Dom shouted.

"Hi Johnny," I replied, not looking at him.

"Play dress up?" I heard him shout.

"'Course not! You know that I'm not a real girl! Would never do that!"

"Wouldn't work anyway, you still have the imprint of a screw on your forehead."

"So funny," I grumbled and walked away.

I stood by the registration table. The guy behind it almost drooled. "Name?"

"Dana:"

"Number?"

"282."

"Your ride?"

"Opel Corsa A Michalak." I smiled.

"What?"

I leaned forward, smiled at him, grabbed his chin, forced his head to turn around to look at my car. "That."

"Oh," he said, looking back at me, or rather at the end of my half way opened zipper.

"Think you'll get this done until evening?" I asked.

"Oh, okay..." He said. I saw him write 'Shopping Cart" down and grinned with a grim expression. Those guys here would learn to spell the correct name of that car backwards until the end of Race Wars, I vowed.

"Your first race, so you're going the full mile. You win, you're still in for the quarter mile races tomorrow and have 2k. You lose... you're out."

"I know the rules. Who am I racing?"

"You didn't look at the list?"

"If I had, I wouldn't be asking."

He went through his lists. "Oh, you're racing that silver-blue Skyline."

"Brian's Skyline?" No wonder he knew I was racing at that time! And if I hadn't wasted so much time playing catch me if you can this morning, I wouldn't have been surprised because I, just as Brian, would have had the chance to look at the lists.

"Yes. Sorry."

"Who on earth came up with that classification for my car?!?"

I started calculating. Brian's Skyline had without doubt far over 350 hp and his twin turbo, but it also had a lot of weight - around one and a half tons - almost double as much as my car, which weighted just under 800 kilograms, was equipped with just under 250 hp and the single turbo. I knew he had Nitrous - the blow-out system at his fenders which he so frequently and often used to put up a show gave this away - but so did I. He had his ATTESSA system and four wheel drive, but mine had more weight on the front for better traction. I figured that this was about who the better driver was.

Coming to think about it, the person who had classified my car had known it well. Too well. And as I hadn't classified it, it could only be... I gave Vince an angry stare, for which he just smiled back at me, shrugging.

The registration guy shrugged, too. "You can still back out if you..."

"I'm not up for backing out, thank you." I grumbled.

I gave a short side glance to Dom, who just looked stern ever since Brian's name had been announced. Vince was saying something to him that I couldn't hear. Dom shook his head in reply and turned his back on me while doing so. I could just notice that he went away, towards the encampment, with fast steps, leaving Vince shouting at him - which I still couldn't hear. Just a bit later, on the far outside of the track before me, I noticed a car speeding up and assumed this was one of the cars heading for the finishing line.

Getting into my car, I waited at the starting line for my opponent to show up, more nervous than in any other race I had done before, constantly without really noticing it scratching either of my upper arms.

Brian just grinned at me from his Nissan Skyline as he also rolled to the starting line, torturing his engine to produce the sounds he wanted.

The audience cheered.

The flag was raised, and I knew that if I wasted any more attention on Toretto, I'd be not only losing this race, but also 2k; but worse, I would be out of the official races for the rest of the weekend. I didn't take a second look at Brian, I just concentrated on the road before me. "Gotta do this..." I kept saying to myself.

On the far left side of the track I saw someone standing by the hood of a car, then suddenly running back to jump in. I couldn't see more as I still had to concentrate on the track. The flag fell, and off we went.

I was scared for a moment that my wheels would slip when taking up speed, but I was lucky. Brian did slip, obviously too enthusiastic on the gas, and so he was quite a bit behind me when we speeded up; but finally his ATTESA kicked into full functionality and he had the advantage of a four wheel drive and had the better traction on the sandy ground.

I knew that his end speed would probably be higher than mine, but in speeding up, I could be faster. So my only chance was to pick up as much speed as possible, making the gap between us bigger, so that when my speed limit was reached, he would need more time to close the gap, which would hopefully take longer than the speedway was long; but a full mile was long.

A short look in the mirror showed me that Brian was about fifteen yards behind me, the distance still growing; but I also knew that at about 200 miles per hour, my speed limit would be reached because of the shitty aerodynamics of my car.

Which was the case just a short time later.

I saw Brian close the gap between us, and the finishing line still seemed like an eternity away. 10 yards between us... five... finishing line still some hundred yards away... and he was next to me.

It was at that point of time when we almost reached the car standing besides the track, which suddenly spat thick clouds of smoke all over the blacktop from its exhaust system. Fried piston rings? Broken head gasket? So much smoke? I had no idea what could have happened there nor could I look at it long enough to actually recognize it, but now I was quickly speeding into a thick cloud of black smoke.

The sound of Brian's Skyline, which had been almost next to me, became weird and more silent, as if it was moving away from me. All of a sudden, I understood and grinned: His twin turbo couldn't take the smoke, but my air intake almost on the ground, where next to no smoke was hovering, and so my turbo was not at all impressed by it.

As I practically shot out of the smoke, the finishing line was just about fifty yards away. I pushed my nitrous button, simultaneously looking at my side-, then at my back mirror for Brian.

An endless second later, when I was pressed into the seat by the Nitrous kicking into effect, he emerged from the smoke behind me, the machine stuttering and spitting. I chuckled to myself, then concentrated again. Ten yards. Finishing line.

I almost couldn't believe it. I beat Brian O'Conner! That was surely something to be proud of. Though, of course, I probably wouldn't have managed that without the smoking car.

I slowed my car down, patting her fondly on the steering wheel, just as I always did when I was satisfied. Slowly turning, I now rolled towards Brian's Skyline which stood just a few yards behind the finishing line and lowered my side window.

"Hey Bri, you need a ride?" I grinned.

I often heard the saying of looks that could kill, but never saw one until that moment. Mentally I prepared for him to beat me down when we would next meet. He was fuming.

"What's up with you man?" I said from the relative safety of my car, my foot hovering over the pedal. "I heard you were so cool if you lose. And now you're practically fuming?"

"Not at you," he replied in a calm voice after taking a deep breath and strolled over to my car.

"Come on, I'll take you with me. Let your car just stand for an hour or so that the smoke gets out of the system."

He hesitated for a moment and even opened his mouth as if he had something to say, but then just got into my car.

We drove relatively slow, and instead of about thirty seconds it took us several minutes to get back to the cheering crowd at the starting line. Strangely, when we passed the place where the formerly smoke-throwing car stood, it was gone.

Brian just stared at the place where the car stood for the fraction of a second, then snorted .

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing. Well, perhaps something. I'll tell you later."

I just shrugged, and the rest of the distance was covered in total silence between us.

Dom was standing by the starting line, grinning; and his shirt was sweat stained.

Before my brain had put one and one together when I stopped the car next to Dom, Brian had grabbed my face and kissed me hard on the mouth - and without doubt that was basically not aimed at me, but at Dom, who was standing just outside my side of the car, witnessing this.

Brian sat back, grinned at me and said "Not a bad way to lose two thousand Dollars..." before he stuffed the money into the deep V of my zippered neckline, jumped out of the car and disappeared into the crowd.

I was so surprised that the idea of beating the crap out of Brian just came to me when he was already out of sight.

Dom opened my door, grinning. "Seems you've found yourself a new friend there," he said.

"Dom," I stuttered, getting out. "I have no idea why he did that, believe me."

"Oh, I do," said Dom, looking towards the crowd into which Brian had disappeared.