Michael dumped the clutch, and the Mustang roared forward, leaping ahead, only to find the Challenger roaring past it as they accelerated through the first few gears.

So it's fast in a straight line, Michael thought. The helmet's HUD flashed and lit up with several pairs of glowing orange vertical lines arranged like gates, thrown haphazardly around the parking lot. The blue racing line on the road led through the gates like a thread woven into fabric.

Michael remembered something his father had said about a racing line being the straightest and shortest angle through a path of road. It made sense to him, he had long been in the habit of cornering by cutting in from the outside line of a corner to the inside apex.

If I take the straightest line between gates, I can carry more speed!

The Challenger quickly cut in front of Michael's Foxbody as the two cars sped towards the first gate.

Rather than focusing on the first gate, Michael turned his attention to the second gate, which sat a several feet behind and to the left of the first, and deftly angled the Foxbody's steering to the left, aiming the car for the second gate as it passed through the first, while Amelia's Challenger continued forward, easily passing through it now several car lengths ahead.

A wry smile filled Michael's helmet. He watched comfortably from a few car lengths behind as the Challenger's taillights lit up in a panic, its rear tires breaking traction, the car shimmying from side to side as Amelia braked hard and swerved for the gate.

The Foxbody sailed past the Challenger at full throttle, heading through the gate without slowing down at all.

Judging by the way she barely kept control of the machine, and that she seemingly had no concept of a racing line, Michael decided he could safely infer that Amelia was inexperienced.

Michael watched the next few gates, which were setup like a slalom into the entrance of the parking garage.

He steered smoothly, left, right, left, right, getting into a rhythm, letting off the throttle just as he began to turn to let the weight transfer to the front wheels, then rolling his foot back to floor as the car settled, leading into the next part of the slalom. He was a solo dancer, the delicate slalom the base of his moveset.

The Hellcat's 4 round headlights shrank into his rearview mirror as it awkwardly slid from side to side, nearly missing every gate as Michael deftly guided the Foxbody up the slight ramp into the parking garage.

The entrance of the garage seemed to glow with a bluish sheen, and Michael braked hard and turned the Mustang towards the other end of empty parking lot, he realized holograms and neon lights had been installed on the roof of each floor of the building, pulsing in time with the music playing at the car meet. It felt like some kind of dance floor for racing.

The next sequence of gates, however, appeared to the right of the inside of the parking garage, leading to the spiral section of road leading up to the second floor.

Since the entrance to the parking garage was on the leftmost side, and there were no gates, Michael realized it was one long straight to the next gate.

Michael grimaced as the Hellcat made it through the corner about a second after him, its engines snarl punctuated by the angry whine of its supercharger.

It seemed to rocket up behind Michael in the rear view mirror, closing the gap at an alarming rate, just beginning to inch ahead of Michael as they entered. Michael resorted to breaking where he would consider late on the displayed racing line, but as he carefully pushed his left foot hard on the brakes, the Hellcat snarled past, braking far too late...

Michael cried out in shock.

He had been so preoccupied with the Hellcat's burst of impressive straight line speed, he hadn't realized Amelia had put the car on the inside line into the corner.

In braking far too late, Michael would have to slow down further to avoid a collision.

Michael slammed hard on the brakes, bringing the Mustang to nearly a halt and throwing him forward into his seat as the Challenger sailed past under braking, allowing Amelia to just barely make the corner, sliding inches from the wall of the spiral road to the second floor of the parking garage.

Michael angrily downshifted to first gear and power slid the Mustang after her.

The next section of the race had several hundred gates arranged in a strict snaking pattern, barely wide enough only for one car. This meant the driver would have to have an absolutely perfect line without sliding the car in any way.

The Challenger's tail lights lit up as it carefully began to negotiate the next section at parking lot speeds, allowing the Foxbody to easily catch up. Michael felt a sense of relief as he caught up with his gentle steering followed by panic as he slammed hard on the brakes to avoid smashing into the rear of the Hellcat, since there was no space to pass it.

The gates widened, allowing Michael to put the Mustang on the inside line of the next corner, waiting until the Hellcat braked before he did, easily putting the Mustang a car length ahead of it, negotiating the corner up to the third floor with effortless control.

The next floor put a two lane wide sequence of gates in a circle shape that crossed over itself after a short straight.

Michael watched his rear view mirror anxiously as the Hellcat snarled up towards the rear bumper of the Mustang. Michael braked early and ripped the handbrake, snapping the rear of the Mustang into a slide allowing the Hellcat put itself on the inside line.

The two cars drifted in tandem through the gates, Michael being pushed to nearly the edge of the gates by the shaky angle and sheer size of the Challenger.

Michael would have normally been annoyed by Amelia's driving style, aggressive to a fault and inexperienced enough to be dangerous, but he found himself having fun, seeing her aggression as more of a challenge.

The two cars headed out of the circle into the next upward corner side by side, the Hellcat inching ahead, but the Mustang again putting itself on the inside line into the 4th floor, easily getting ahead of the Hellcat on corner exit.

The gates on the next floor lead into a wide slalom, Michael leading into it, Amelia passing weaving through the gates in the opposite direction, copying Michael's technique of leading into gates as straight as possible, her steering smooth and her car stable and careful.

They crossed paths, left, right, left, like dance partners, reaching the final corner, leading to the top floor of the parking garage.

The Challenger was faster than the Mustang, Michael knew that. But he also knew the Mustang was lighter and had more grip. He needed to trick Amelia into doing something her car couldn't do.

As they accelerated out of the slalom section, Michael moved the Foxbody from the inside line towards the outside as Amelia accelerated past him, promptly moving to the inside line to prevent him from passing.

Michael steered the Foxbody to the outside line, which was the optimal line into the turn, braking about a second later than he normally would.

Amelia's Hellcat swayed under hard braking, its rear sliding out wide, Michael easily making the corner, albeit running a little wide on the edge of the Mustang's traction.

It forced Amelia to slam harder on the brakes, her car slowing to nearly a halt, dropping back as Michael ascended the corner and passed through a pair of red gates, marking the finish line, the Challenger long gone from his rearview mirror.

Michael ripped the handbrake and slid the Mustang to a halt in front of a small crowd of racing fans.

His face hurt from smiling.