Tensions on the Track
The sleek black car sat under the fluorescent lights of the garage, its polished surface gleaming like obsidian. It was a marvel of engineering—a fusion of Namtan’s precision and Film’s flair, custom-built to balance their conflicting styles. But at the moment, it felt more like a ticking time bomb.
“Can you stop touching that?” Namtan snapped, swatting Film’s hand away from the control panel.
Film raised an eyebrow, unrepentant. “I’m just checking the specs. Relax, princess.”
Ciize groaned from under the hood. “If you two don’t stop arguing, I’m quitting.”
Earn leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Seconded.”
“Then maybe you should start looking for new jobs,” Namtan shot back, her tone icy.
Film rolled her eyes and leaned against the car, arms crossed. “You know, you could try saying ‘thank you’ once in a while. I am saving your sorry career.”
Namtan whipped around, her eyes blazing. “Saving my career? You’re the one dragging me down!”
“Alright, enough!” Earn’s voice cut through the tension like a whip. She stepped between them, glaring at both. “Do you even hear yourselves? We have a race tomorrow. Either get it together, or I swear I’ll leave you to kill each other in the garage.”
Both women fell silent, their glares locking for a charged moment before Namtan turned away, muttering under her breath.
---
Hours later, the garage was quiet except for the faint hum of machinery. Namtan sat on the floor, a laptop balanced on her knees as she fine-tuned the car’s telemetry data. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but her stubbornness refused to let her leave until everything was perfect.
She didn’t notice Film until she plopped down beside her, holding two steaming cups of coffee.
“Figured you’d still be here,” Film said casually, handing one to Namtan.
Namtan hesitated, then took the cup. “Thanks,” she said grudgingly.
They sat in silence for a moment, the air between them oddly calm.
“You know,” Film said, breaking the quiet, “I didn’t mean to clip you in that race. If anything, I think someone messed with your car.”
Namtan looked at her sharply. “You’re saying it wasn’t an accident?”
Film shrugged, her expression serious. “You felt it, didn’t you? That wobble before the crash. That wasn’t driver error.”
Namtan’s fingers tightened around the coffee cup. “I thought I imagined it. But if you’re right...”
“It means someone’s playing dirty,” Film finished. “And if they’re targeting you, they could target me next.”
Namtan sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I just want to race. All this politics and sabotage... it’s exhausting.”
Film studied her, her usual cocky grin softening. “You’re not the only one with a lot to prove, you know.”
Namtan glanced at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her tone. For a brief moment, the walls between them seemed to crack.
But before either could say more, a sharp metallic clang echoed through the garage.
Both women shot to their feet, their eyes scanning the shadows.
“Who’s there?” Namtan called, her voice steady despite the tension.
Silence. Then, a single piece of paper fluttered to the ground near the car.
Film picked it up, her eyes narrowing as she read the scrawled words:
“Quit while you can. Or you’ll regret it.”
She handed the note to Namtan, their gazes meeting.
“Well,” Film said, her voice light but her eyes dark with resolve, “looks like someone really doesn’t want us here.”
Namtan folded the note, her jaw tightening. “Too bad for them. I’m not going anywhere.”
Film’s grin returned, sharp and dangerous. “That’s the spirit. Now, let’s figure out who’s messing with us.”
---