"Alright Moore, wake up. As you requested, we've replaced your left cornea with one of the artificial ones we shipped in from Earth...Though I'm sure I don't need to remind you, that military project was scrapped for a reason."

Needle's bored voice interrupted the hazy after-effects of the sedatives, prompting Erica Moore to groan with annoyance and sluggishly lift her hand to her forehead; it felt as though she had just taken a serious beating. Opening her eyes, she immediately noticed that colours were sharper, and every single detail lay before her in stark clarity; Needle stood a good metre away, cast in shadow as the only bright light was focused on Erica, but she could practically count his eyelashes and every stress line on his otherwise young face.
White hot pain jolted up her back as she sat up and she quickly reached back to feel her spine, spitting out a curse through gritted teeth; however, the pain faded just as quickly and all she could feel were small metal implements, one attached to each vertebrae from the base of her back to the nape of her neck.

"Oh, that'll be the signal enhancers." Needle stepped forward as if to steady her if she started to wobble, "Your reaction speeds are now like a cat's...or at least they will be in an hour or so, when the pains wear off."

"You're a dick." Erica grunted, carefully manoeuvring herself off of the leather operating chair and shuffling over to the tray where her things were being held; she pulled on her tank top, cursing again as her back protested once more.

Needle snorted, moving off to clean his surgical equipment, "I don't get paid to be nice hon, I just get paid to be a good doctor to all you morons who love inventing new ways to nearly kill yourselves for a race."

"You know I have to beat this bitch, this is the final." Erica grabbed her worn combat jacket, venom dripping from her voice; she strode out of the room, ignoring the tired sigh she got in response.

Quickly but stiffly, she made her way up the stairs and out of the underground bunker that served as Needle's makeshift clinic; the streets of what was less-than-affectionately known as Cagetown were cramped and maze-like, but occasionally gave way to small open squares that looked almost pleasant, in the chequered sunlight that filtered through the grates that separated Cagetown from Topside. People congregated in these squares, as it was the only place to breathe away from all the merchants, muggers and cooking smoke. Despite all its flaws, Cagetown was Erica's home, it always had been.
The garage that she had converted into her living space was a short walk away, through the centre market and down towards the docks.

Alyx had been a contestant in enough races that she could live a life of some luxury when she wasn’t racing. She had her own room in a spaceship owned by an old friend, of sorts. Her room had a shower, holovision, music system, gaming simulator, bed and kitchen. It was more than the majority could claim to own on this backwater planet. Sadly, the spaceship wasn’t going anywhere in the state it was in. It had crashed a decade ago, any valuable parts had been scavenged and then it bad been transported to the nearest city to be turned into housing.

Sometimes it paid to bet against yourself, and throw races. She hadn’t done that in some years now though. Her get quick rich scheme had begun because she was bored, when no one provided enough of a challenge. It had ended because of one girl who wouldn’t just give up and go home. Admittedly, this backwater planet probably was her home. It’d explain a lot about the girl in question. Alyx had ended up here because she’d thrown races and bet against herself, which some groups didn’t appreciate. They were angered and wanted her head. She needed her head, but they weren’t particularly understanding about it.

Alyx had spent more time on this planet by now than she had planned to. She’d become a different woman, not really personality wise or anything, but she’d enhanced her skills with modifications to her body. It seemed such things were more readily available here, or the merchants for them were at least. She had a connection at the back of her neck that allowed her to jack into her bike, and a number of adrenaline injectors across her body. Her physical strength had been increased artificially too.

There was another race today, in a few hours. Alyx was as ready as ever to win. She did enjoy the challenge she’d encountered here, but she wasn’t going to roll over and if she didn’t she usually won. Usually, but she’d lost a few times lately. Regardless, it wouldn’t happen again. That’s why she’d gotten new modifications to her body. Needle may have said something about how she might end up dead before the race even started if she wasn’t careful with the modifications, but she’d laughed it off. He wasn’t the first one to warn her about how this or that might result in her death. She already knew how she was going to die anyway. She’d seen it in a vision of the future, caused by a drug induced episode.

Alyx threw the towels she’d wrapped around her body on the bed, and got dressed. Besides, she’d already died, metaphorically and literally, but she’d been revived. One of these days she wouldn’t be so lucky. One of these days she’d end up a smear on the wall, like her idol before her. It happened to the best if they didn’t retire. At the moment though, she was running down a dream. Alyx turned on the music to mentally prepare herself.

The overhead grates opened out to reveal the true force of the near blistering, setting sunlight, bearing down over the expansive docks that stretched from left to right as far as the eye could see. Hundreds and hundreds of piers, most abandoned and decaying; the ones that saw use were alive with activity - workers unloading cargo, or fixing hovercrafts and expensive cruise vessels. It was not uncommon for the latter crafts to be outfitted with heavy weaponry and even heavier fusion engines, the native aquatic life was generally as huge as it was terrifying.

Erica stopped on the way to the old industral sector of the docks, taking a moment to admire the vast array of detail now available to her; however, she was not a sentimental person, and soon was testing the full ability of her new cybernetic cornea. Hidden vital components in the machinery she scanned appeared highlighted to her, her eye picking up on the energy they generated.
She wondered how MacGrath would fare when a few of her bike parts were destroyed, and smirked.

A short electronic buzz and a brief dizzy spell indicated that her spinal augment had activated; Erica leaned on the wall for support, a warm sensation travelling down the wires embedded under her skin. Had the world gotten slower? No, that must have been her senses sharpening, her reaction speed multiplying. Someone stopped to ask if she was alright, but Erica brushed them off, shaking her head to clear it; when the dizziness wore off, she continued the rest of the way to her home. She had beaten MacGrath before, and suffered embarrassing defeats at the hands of her rival. Now all that mattered was beating her again.

Every year, the final took place on the streets of an abandoned, desolate city, reachable across a canal out of Topside. Or at least, that was the official route - the racers and gamblers had other, less reputable ways of getting there. Erica, as well as many others, used the old service tunnels beneath Cagetown.
Typing in the access code to her garage-turned-home, Erica checked her watch - time to get ready.

Once Alyx had gotten dressed, she left her room and locked it after herself. There wasn’t much time left to get to the race if she didn’t leave already. She’d been late before, even started after everyone else and won at one point. That had been quite a lot of luck actually. She’d been one of the few to survive that race in question at all. Alyx headed for the garage towards the back of the spaceship, where she’d left her princess. The cramped corridors were empty, no one else seemed to be awake or around. It was silent except for her own echoing footsteps.

She stepped into the old storage area that smelled of oil, and turned the lights on. The dim lightning didn’t help much. Her hoverbike was inside one of the rooms that she’d been given to store her belongings. She unlocked the door to find it still there, underneath a brown sheet. Alyx pulled the sheet away. Dust whirled up in a cloud when she did.

Her princess, a beast of a machine, was as beautiful as ever. Wear and tear was beginning to show in the pink and black coating though. She’d need to get her a touch up soon. They’d seen a lot of things together through the years. Alyx had never really wanted to buy a newer or better model than her first one, but she’d bought more upgrades than she could keep track of. Some races had ended with her machine in pieces. She’d taken the pieces and done what she could to make sure some part of the original remained. It wasn’t uncommon for racers to be superstitious, and Alyx did believe she owed some of her success to the soul of the original that she never discarded.

Alyx climbed on top of the hoverbike, and leaned back. She was almost lying down when racing, with her back covered by thick layers of metal and other materials. Her connection with the bike through her neck meant she had a better control of it, and a good understanding of the surroundings. She jacked into it, and started it that way. It was like having the rest of her body reconnected to her after being apart for too long, a feeling that felt just as amazing the thousandth time as it did the first.

She rolled out of the spaceship after lowering the ramp, and drove in the direction of the service tunnels. It was the best way she knew of to get where she was going.

Most of Erica's living space was a workshop, with a curtain separating a room off to one side that was her bedroom, and a door across from that which led to a cramped bathroom. Heading into her room, she changed into her racing leathers; they were a bit scuffed, but otherwise in good shape. The more well-off racers -that lived long enough- could afford the thermal skinsuits that regulated body temperature and resisted fire, among other things; but, her leathers had served her well enough, and besides - the skinsuits looked like they gave a wedge-up something fierce. Erica fastened her helmet on, the visor sliding smoothly shut with a beep; her gloves were last, the knuckles had been rather covertly reinforced with steel, should she ever need to "help" someone get knocked out of a race.

Now dressed, Erica headed back out into the workshop, where her hoverbike stood ready. It was a work of love, and a lot of time and patience; she had assembled it herself out of the scraps left from crashes, but the more delicate pieces she had bought with her own hard-earned cash. In the beginning, each race was a test - she worked out what needed to be replaced, and what could be improved; the reward for her labour was a hardy bike that could accelerate like a much newer model, and was built just for her. The bike was painted mostly navy blue, but she kept a few parts unpainted to maintain the sort of mismatched charm it possessed.

Erica hopped onto the bike and pressed the ignition button, it started with a ready purr, lifting a foot or so off of the ground.

"Not so old, are you girl?" she chuckled and patted the bike affectionately, before setting off on her journey.

Night had truly fallen by the time she reached the service tunnels; the hosts -some bigwig corporation- had organised an unofficial shuttle of sorts for the wealthier gamblers; everyone else was on foot if they had not brought their own transport. Thankfully, the tunnels were mostly deserted for the time being, as the racers were required to get there first; the route was illuminated with a liberal use of phosphor gel; too liberal, in Erica's opinion. Did no one give two shits about being subtle anymore? Well, it was the final, so theatrics could take literally any form, however impractical or risky. Erica shook her head to focus herself, drawing back her mind from the tangent it had wandered off to to deal with the nerves twisting and knotting in her stomach. No time for nervousness, it made you timid - and timid racers get knocked out easily.

Finally, the tunnels opened out into what used to be an old square within the abandoned city; the crumbling buildings looked ominous and then some, but it was a relief to get out of that cramped, damp route with the water roaring overhead. Erica sat back for a moment and scanned the large group of her fellow racers parked nearby, looking for that telltale pink and black bike, her nerves settling down in the place of cool determination. If it was there, she did not see it; instead she sped over to the group and braked sharply at the last moment, every inch the cocky rookie.

By the time that Alyx made it to the starting line, it seemed like everyone else was already there. They hadn’t started without her at least. She had enough credibility with the crowds that arriving last would just make her look like the experienced and arrogant tool who didn’t think any of the others would prove much of a challenge. It was better than some of the alternatives, and pretty close to the truth. She didn’t think most of them would prove much of a problem, but there was that one individual which would make it more of a challenge than some races she’d been in.

Alyx spotted the navy blue hoverbike that belonged to her rival and rolled up next to it. She’d meant to wish her luck, or give her a thumbs up. Something that wasn’t straight up hostile or mocking, but then the camera droids noticed that she’d done it. They wouldn’t do their tasks well if they hadn’t. She imagined that her face and their meeting must be on any nearby screen by now. It wasn’t like the crowds could keep up with the race without cameras, everything moved too fast and across an area that was too large. It might seem like she’d lost her nerve if she didn’t do something more than what she’d intended. It was the finale too, so she had no reason to hold back.

Once she was certain she’d caught the attention of her rival, she made a few simple gestures. First she pointed at herself, then she shaped a V with her fingers, licked it, and finished with pointing at the other woman.

“I. Fuck. You.”

Crass, but it got her point across. Hopefully it riled the crowd up too. She grinned afterwards, and waved at everyone else. It was difficult to hear anything over the sound of all the nearby engines. Alyx may taunt the other hoverbike racers from time to time, but this may be the most offensive gesture she’d done in a while. Not that it bothered her, personally, but she didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. She hadn’t had sex with anything in a very long time. Years maybe. Some episodes could be hard to recall. Drugs, racing and games were all she needed to forget about human interaction.

Alyx positioned herself in preparation for the race to begin when she noticed the time, and waited for the lights to turn green. They were all lined up in a long line. She got a place towards the end, partly because she'd been late, and because she didn't mind.

All around them, the crowds hooted and jeered as the gesture was broadcast live; Erica scowled, though her blacked out visor hid the expression from the cameras, her anger was obvious in the way that she tensed. Appearances demanded that she make a rebuttal, and she was only too happy to deliver; looking around at the cameras, she pointed at her rival's back and then jerked her arm up into an L shape, while slapping the elbow with her other hand. Now, not all of the crowds' mockery was directed at her, and she was able to save some face; but in a grudging sort of way way, Erica was thankful for the interaction - having a rival was never a bad start for any rookie looking to get noticed. If she won this race, she could sell her old place and get some new digs - perfect to fill with booze, and pleasurable company to keep her bed warm.

Erica took her place on the line, somewhat to the left of the middle; a dangerous place to be - after the start, all the racers would rush towards the middle in an attempt to pull ahead, and that's when a lot of crashes happened. Glancing from side to side, she plotted ways to use the imminent chaos to her advantage. After all, she was not above fighting dirty and neither were half of the others; there were countless times she could recall being punched or kicked in that knot of racers. This time, her new visual augment would give her a sharp advantage - she now knew precisely where to strike; it was as if she was surveying the very blueprints of each bike, each little error now a glaring flaw. And target.

The lights turned orange, fusion engines started to buzz.

"Right biker. Visor is cracked..."

The lights turned yellow, Erica hunkered down on her bike.

"Left biker. Steering is wobbly..."

All sounds of the crowds' excitement was drowned out in the roar of at least thirty hoverbikes surging forward as the lights turned green. Exhileration filled Erica as she picked up speed; the racer that had been to her right attempted to cut her off as they tore towards the already-forming throng of hoverbikes. Her arm shot out like a piston, catching the other rider in the side of his visor; the steel implements in her glove shattered it and cracked his helmet, sending him reeling off of his bike onto the unforgiving road below. Erica shook her hand to dispel the numbness, before focusing on mavouvering through her opponents, looking to catch up with her rival. There was no time to contemplate the fate of the poor sod she had knocked out cold.

Alyx had laughed at the gesture, and put her helmet on afterwards. She’d forgotten it a number of times in the past, much like today, to the point that she had to put one in her hoverbike. Safety was no joke when people died in all manners of gruesome ways during these races. Had there ever been a race without a single casualty? If there had, she had missed it. In many cases, a helmet would do nothing to protect the individual wearing it. The head may remain intact when a body was cleaved in half, but what good did that do? The medical field had gotten far, but not quite that far.

The main advantage she had when she was in the back was that she could avoid getting destroyed early on when everyone grouped together in the middle to get ahead of the rest. It wasn’t necessarily a rookie mistake, but you had to be prepared and tough to survive that clash. Alyx could just roll past the losers, and go after those who thought they had gained an advantage by killing someone. My, my, what poor sportsmanship!

She activated her shield when the lights turned orange, and the engines began to buzz. It was subtle, a faint gray glow around her princess that could be difficult to detect. The rules were vague on whether it was allowed or not, and she’d never officially registered it as a part of her bike. If anyone tried to kick or punch her, they were in for a nasty surprise. It would be like putting their foot through a laser field. Of course, Alyx couldn’t attack anyone herself either as long as it was activated. Her bike was on the heavier side though, with plenty of power to ram and force others of the track.

When the lights turned green, Alyx focused everything on acceleration and speed. The princess reacted flawlessly, and flew forward as fast as she could after standing still a second ago. Alyx had to steer to avoid crashing herself, but she didn’t entirely evade the bikes of others. She rammed a few of them, forced her way towards the front through anyone that got in her way. There was a noticeable difference in the quality of their bikes compared with hers. She’d been racing for years, and gotten upgrades from all over the known universe. Sometimes free of charge from sponsors. Maybe it was an unfair advantage, but then again, if they couldn’t stand the pressure, they shouldn’t be racing.

Erica dodged a fist aimed at her head, having caught the glow of an EMP unit in the corner of her eye at the last second; it had been wired into the other rider's glove, most likely with enough voltage behind it to send her into a fit. Swerving around a fallen lamp post, she gritted her teeth and scowled; there were too many other bikes between her and her attacker to retaliate now - but she would remember that helmet, and seek it out later. Revenge was never a pretty sight, especially on the track. Many lives in the past had been lost due to grudge matches, and that was not about to change. There was hitting someone, and then there was blowing their brains out with electricity; the latter was fair more deserving of a retaliation, in Erica's opinion.

Just then, she saw a hint of pink and black up ahead, and urged more speed out of her bike; it responded, and she ramped off of a broken boardwalk to close the distance as much as she could manage at that moment. Erica was close enough for her augmented eye to pick up on the protection field around MacGrath's bike; seeing it brought a genuine snort of amusement - the last time Erica had tried to get through that, she had nearly lost a hand and had to finish the rest of the race with one good arm. The scars stung a lot less than the smug looks she was subject to for the rest of that season, but it could have gone a lot worse; now, the scars remain to remind her not to punch people fond of lasers.

As the streets widened, the jumble thinned out to something resembling order; however, it would be a terrible idea to relax - old buildings crumbled and creaked with every passing second, with the rubble from ones that had already fallen littering the cracked roads. Since they were on hoverbikes, they could avoid the worst of it, but one wrong move could mean a catastrophe. On the big corners, stands had been set up for the viewers and gamblers, hastily constructed out of ruins. Others just watched from the streets, taking their lives into their own hands; sometimes in the past, there had been reports of people like that just going missing, with no explanation. But, the population of the city was so huge, and the abandoned city so vast that no one looked into it too far.

Camera droids appeared in greater number as Erica caught up with MacGrath, pushing her custom bike to its limit; she knew her rival had access to much better gear, but pressure is what it is - and Erica worked well under pressure. On the other hand, her bike could not keep this pace up forever without risking malfunction; she would either have to rely on MacGrath to make a mistake, or to just pray fate was kind to her. For now though, Erica kept up the breakneck speed that had them neck and neck.

"Christ, she's going all out this time..." Erica thought, glancing across.

Alyx could tell Erica had broken away from the herd as well, and was coming after her. She had rearview mirrors on her bike, but the connection with the princess itself had been what told her that someone was closing in behind her. It was a simple guess and glance in the mirror after that. She could try to slow Erica down if she wanted to, dump mines onto the track or fire at one of the crumbling buildings to make it fall. It had been a long time since Alyx had used any offensive weapons though. There’d be no competition for her if she did, no worthy opponent if she killed the only one on this backwater planet.

The old buildings had a certain novelty to them for someone who hadn’t spent all that much time on the planet. Sure, she’d seen them before, and places like this one as well, but they often made her wonder what had happened there to make everyone leave. Had it been some kind of natural disaster which resulted in damages that no one had the resources to repair? Any inhabitants would be forced to abandon their homes.

She almost hit rubble the size of a boulder because she hadn’t focused entirely on the race, but swerved in time and took a minor hit to the back of her bike. The lasers made a crackling sound as she hit it, probably tearing small parts of the rubble away and leaving dust behind. Alyx had the princess back under control before long, but by then she’d lost her lead. It didn’t worry her that much. She doubted Erica could keep up the speed she was going at for the rest of the race. Her bike wasn’t of the same quality as Alyx’ princess. She’d push her bike to the extreme, and when it undoubtedly failed her Alyx could speed past. The question was how long that would take. Either way, all Alyx had to do was stay close behind Erica.

A grin appeared on her lips when she thought of a way to attack Erica in an offensive way without any chance of accidentally killing her. She honked, and a loud signal blared out from her bike. It was a bit of a surprise even to her how loud it seemed to be, but she would keep at it just to annoy Erica and make her lose concentration. Honk, you’re in my way. Honk, could you please move? Honk, I have places to be.

Erica took great pleasure in speeding past MacGrath when her rival hit the rubble, heightened reflexes allowing her to dodge around the dust and debris; well, that was the price for not paying attention when it mattered, especially as they were coming up to the trickiest part in the course, or at least, the corners that cost the most lives. Still, that did not stop the more daring or morbid spectators from crowding the pits and stands there; some even had bets on who would die. When Erica had first started out, she had seen her name on those bets plenty of times for all sorts of tracks, but she did not let it bother her anymore.

The sudden blast of the horn first made her flinch, but secondly infuriated her; she shook her head, knowing that a lack of concentration was exactly what MacGrath wanted. Still, the horn continued to blare, gnawing away at Erica's patience like a rabid animal; a glance in the wing mirror told her that the other woman was hot on her tail, most likely with a smug look on her face under that visor. At least on the corners, Erica could let up a bit on the acceleration to give her poor bike a break; hundreds of scorch marks and broken walls told her that not everyone had slowed up in the past.
On and on the horn went, loud and obnoxious - "Christ! Is she ever gonna let up?" Erica was inches away from losing her temper, so close in fact that she completely missed a deep pothole in the road that caused her hoverbike to briefly hit the ground, sending up sparks and shaking the entire frame.

Bracing, Erica hung on and steadied her bike, managing to maintain some amount of speed to be neck-and-neck with MacGrath as they swerved around the corners. Unfortunately now, her steering had been knocked a little off by the pothole, making all the deaths on this set of corners suddenly seem very real. Especially now that they were fast approaching the worst corner of them all - a complete hairpin charmingly named Last Rites, which had claimed no fewer than 200 lives since the track had been set up. Not only that, it was on a steep decline - all the more difficult. However, it was the last difficult corner before the easiest stretch of the race - if anyone could nail this corner, they would have a far simpler time winning.

Critics had argued that the rivalry was getting out of hand; perhaps it was, but there was no denying that in that rivalry there was respect, so she was not about to do anything drastic. Just a little something to get MacGrath back for the horn thing, mainly because Erica was still seething with anger. Her bike only had one weapon, a little ion blast that was useless at long range; but at short range, it could disrupt electronics - just enough to temporarily cause a few minor problems, not to take someone out of the race entirely.
So Erica deliberately slowed up a bit as if her bike was overheating (which it was, a little) and scanned MacGrath's bike before taking aim and firing the ion blast.

In hindsight, this was never going to be a good move.