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Gregory tore down the fast lane of Roxy Raceway,

whooping and hollering as he drifted into a flawless half-circle turn.

His wheels kissed the edge of the track,

catching a fleeting burst of air as the road dipped,

and the tires skidded briefly off course.

The raceway had always been a riot when crowded, but tonight, devoid of racers,

bystanders, or rules, it was his personal playground.

Nothing stood between him and the open road but the gas pedal, the wind in his face, and his muted assistant driver miming complaints to him from behind.

After his chaotic dance with the cacophony colossus known as DJ Music Man and successfully

restoring power to the Fascade, Gregory had barely caught his breath before swiftly getting the repair station to work.

With electricity surging back into the break room, the staff-bought head was quickly secured

into the unit for processing.

Gray shutters, scorched with pinpricks of residual heat like raindrops baked into glass,

obscured his view inside.

But from within, he could hear the mechanical symphony begin,

...