And then he felt it.

A heartbeat.

Faint yet steady.

A soft exhale against the back of his neck.

Ruben was alive!

Loud ringing blasted through the static as the ground beneath him shook, a continuous rain of debris and dust. Clenching his teeth, he held his breath and clung to his boyfriend like a human shield. No matter what the cost, he had to protect him.

Beyond the pain and panicked chaos of the crowd, a vision popped into his mind. A memory.

He was standing amidst a group of boys, all roughly the same age. But while he stood on the tips of his toes, he could only see Laddy Paddy's overly large bowler hat bobbing back and forth as the man said sternly, "Leave the hobblers in peace, boys. One touch will leave you in excruciating pain. A second touch will paralyse you, and a third will lead to certain death."

Ruben wasn't dead; he was paralysed.

Footsteps crunched through the gravel. 

A voice called out his name, "Nio!"

As he tried to scramble up, his head spun, and the world around him blurred. Blood was trickling down his neck and along his jaw. He sank back to the ground as he saw the shadow running towards him. The figure slid through the pebbles. Slowly, he began to recognise the petite frame and the wild, unruly appearance of her spiky black hair. 

"Nina," he groaned. To his own ears, he sounded drunk and disoriented.

She landed on her knees and cupped his face before going for a full hug. "You're alive!" she shouted, half angry, half concerned. "You stupid, riff-raff of a man! I was so scared. Why did you have to risk your life like that?"

"I had to save him," Nio said as she pressed her gloves against the back of his head. "I thought he was dead, but he's not. The collision with the barrier must have dislodged the hobbler. Then he crashed onto the gravel. Hit number one. And then into the tyre wall. A second blow, which means he's paralysed."

She shook her head. "You're spewing gibberish, Nio. It's okay... you're hurt. You're upset."

"I'm not." The tears that sprung to his eyes were born out of relief. "Nina, he needs help, but his heart is beating. He's breathing."

"Okay, I hear you. The medical team is on its way," she said compassionately, rubbing his cheek. "They'll look after him and you, so, please, stop blabbering about hobblers in our cars."

"But they are there."

"Nio." She pursed her lips, hushing him.

"It's true." He gesticulated at his car, which had been flipped onto its side and had shielded him and Ruben from the worst of the shrapnel. "Don't deny it. You must know it too, or at least suspect there is something different about the engine. Those animalistic sounds we hear from time to time—they belong to an actual creature."

"No, Gunder would never—"

"He would, because he did," Nio continued. A spike of pain shot up his spine, and he pounded his fists into the gravel. "Balls! I should have connected the dots before. I've caught enough hobblers in my lifetime to know better. Steam engines neither howl nor wail when they're broken, but spirits do when they're in distress."

"But they're holy creatures. People worship them," Nina said. Her mouth slackened as she alternated between looking at her own car and Nio.

"I'm speaking the truth, Nina. Edge confirmed it—the engine is a spark hobbler. I'm not making this up."

Nina opened and closed her mouth, but before she could say anything, marshalls in green overalls rushed past, fronted by a woman in a white coat. A medic.

"Help him, not me," Nio said.

She glanced at him, then went straight to Ruben.

With bated breath, and with Nina still putting pressure on his head wound, Nio watched the medic shining a flashlight into Ruben's eyes. Her face remained stoic as she used her stethoscope to listen to his heart. Then she nodded, giving her team of medical marshalls a thumbs up.

Nio exhaled, finally allowing himself to lean into Nina's touch.

"You were right," Nina said into his ear. "He's alive."

"I'm right about the spark hobblers too," Nio said. "I swear it—I'm not lying."

"One battle at a time."

"But do you believe me?"

"Maybe." She pinched her bottom lip. "I want to see it with my own eyes."

"You will. Wait for my sign."

"Okay."

As the medic continued her examinations, the marshalls proceeded with cutting off Ruben's clothes. He had several deep cuts, scrapes, and whip-like welts on his arms and legs, clear signs of a hobbler's sting.

"Take him to the medical centre. Focus on getting the bleeding to stop," she said to her team as she placed her stethoscope around her neck. They were lifting Ruben onto a stretcher. "Once he's stable, get him onto the airship to Santa Yana. They'll have burn wounds and several broken bones to fix."

"Thank you," Nio said, "and the paralysis?"

"More a blessing than a curse at this moment." As she crouched next to Nio, a long-barrelled pistol flashed under her white coat. "It'll wear off. Now, you. I don't know what you did in a previous life, but you must have the luck of a lobster on a sinking ship."

"I wanted to save him." He squinted as the bright light of the flashlight flashed into his eyes.

"It almost cost you your life." 

"When I saw the tyres blasting over you, I thought you were gone," Nina said.

Nio lifted his shoulders. "I would do it again. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I hadn't at least tried."

"Not many would do that for their rival," the medic said.

"Well, he's a bit more than a rival."

Nina's eyes went big, as though she thought Nio was crazy, but he was done pretending to love anyone but Ruben. He had won. Since the other cars that had still been in the sprint were lining up right before Bancadas, not finishing the last lap, he was the only one to score points. Nobody would be able to surpass him, even if he decided not to race in Djicau. And, right now, not a muscle in his body thought about getting back into that car.

The medic prepared an injection. "I'm going to give you something for the pain as I remove the debris from your skin. It's gonna hurt."

"It's not dreampowder, is it?" Nio asked as she carefully pushed a needle into his skin.

She snorted. "Porti Jano has long outlawed that continental crap."

"Good, because I have work to do."

"I don't think so," she said. 

Although he still heard her words, he was no longer listening. In the distance, the group of drivers that had gathered next to their parked cars parted ways. 

He got up, his head still rushing, but he could keep his feet steady. He blinked as Don Mosley strode towards him with a confident swagger, not a dent in his sleek black suit, his balding, greying hair neatly combed back. Mister Steinnemann and Edge were beside him, talking, negotiating, but the head of the Federation didn't as much as look at them. His gaze pierced Nio; there was fury in his eyes.

"Nina, go, quickly. Check my car," Nio whispered. "When you see the hobbler, free it. You must show the world."

She nodded. As the medic turned to the gash at the back of his neck, Nina slipped towards his upside-down SRT. 

Don Mosley's voice bellowed across the gravel trap. "Stop what you're doing, Lassy Nanda!"

"Mister Mosley, please. Let me talk to them—they're my drivers," Mister Steinnemann begged.

"I'm not afraid to do my own talking," Nio said. He moved his hands to his back.

"Hold your tongue, Kotayi brat," Don Mosley said. The head of the Federation held up a hand at Mister Steinnemann as he shouted at Nina, "Lassy Nanda, if you know what's dear to you, you step away from that car."

"No," she said firmly. A low, scraping noise came from behind the car, followed by a loud clanging that reverberated through the ground. She had removed the engine plate.

"One last time, Nina Nanda," Don Mosley warned. "Don't do anything rash... think of your old man."

"I am," Nina said, her voice shaky but determined. "And if he is listening, I hope he is damn proud of me."

A squeal erupted from the car as the spirit flitted up. Its form was ethereal, almost translucent. For a few clicks, it floated above the wreck, emitting a pulsing, purple light. Then the creature whizzed away, over the grandstands, howling and shrieking until it was but a blip in the sky.

The crowd roared with disbelief. Photographers clicked as though their life depended on it. The news would spread faster than the spotted plague. By noon tomorrow, the whole world would know what atrocities the Federation had allowed under their watch.

Nio used the tumult to snatch the gun from the medic's holster. She held up her hands immediately, taking a step back.

"Nio, don't," Edge and Mister Steinemann said simultaneously as Nio pointed the weapon at Don Mosley.

"It's over," Nio said.

"Or what? Are you going to shoot me? Do you think that will solve your problems?" The head of the Federation sneered. He was laughing, completely unfazed by Nio's threat. "This isn't the first scandal this sport is facing, and it won't be the last. Sure, people will talk. Speed Sprint Racing will dominate the news. Reporters and politicians alike will be demanding change. And we will give it to them. Then, in a few weeks' time, people tune in for the Djicauan sprint, anyway."

"I don't see why they would," Nio said, his finger still around the trigger. "I passed the chequered flag—I won, and Ruben didn't. Nina and Vitaly are too far behind. The Djicauan sprint won't change anything. I can stop racing. I am the Speed King."

Don Mosley's golden tooth flashed as he grinned. "Do you really believe you get to keep your victory, lad?"

"But the rules."

"I make the rules. I am the rules," he said calmly. "As stated in the regulations, article thirty-three point four, it is strictly prohibited to drive the track in the opposite direction, regardless of the circumstance. If that isn't already enough to disqualify you, you also interfered with marshal affairs, risking not only your own worthless life but theirs too. Three times your team told you to step away, and three times you ignored them. As noble as you believe your actions to be, you're a danger to yourself and others. I strip you of your points, all of them."

"Fine," Nio said. He twirled the gun around his finger; he had no intention of hurting anyone, but that was his bluff. He had the upper hand and nothing left to lose.

If he was disqualified, the Federation would take the results from the last completed lap. Ruben would be the winner, taking both victory and the title. His boyfriend would be free. By now, he was safely in the medical centre; the airship to the hospital ready to leave at any moment.

Nio stopped toying with the gun. If he played the cars he had been dealt with correctly, he would turn more than one wrong into a right. The era of the Federation would soon come to an end; he would be able to bargain for his freedom and Nina's too. He owned her that much.

Since Don Mosley seemed to think he was untouchable, Nio pointed the gun at Mister Steinnemann. Right away, his boss turned into a slobbering mess.

"Please, Nio, I've only ever wanted what was best for you," he pleaded.

"No, you only ever did what was best for you," Nio said cooly.

Edge brought her hands to her face. "Nio, my boy. Don't do anything you'll regret. I know you. You're better than this."

"Except, I'm not. And you should know that, Edge, given the place Mister Steinnemann rescued me from. I've killed before."

"But you won't now."

"Don't tempt me." He hated being harsh to Edge, but he needed her. She was an innocent bystander in his plan to unravel the secrets behind the Speed Sprint. "You may have all read or heard about me racing through the streets of Oa City, but that was no promotional event. I was on the run, tricked by a figure named the Scaletail who had asked me to bring a hobbler to the House of Hope. Was it you, Mister Steinnemann, who planted that letter?"

The man was shaking. "I didn't. That was not how it happened."

Nio didn't believe a word he was saying. "What did you think—best-case scenario, I find my driver, and, worst case, I have someone capable of catching hobblers?" He paused, waiting for a reaction, but all he got was an incomprehensible stutter. "Before the start of this season, SRT was nowhere. All of a sudden, Nina and I were consistently at the top. Me, a rookie you plucked from Soulgrave, a criminal."

"I admit it—I parked the car and freed you from that Oan prison. The rest was not my doing."

"Then who was it?" Nio shouted, his grip steady on the gun. He couldn't shoot. If he fired the first bullet, all would be lost.

"It was me," Edge said after a while. She winced, a pained expression in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Nio."

"Edge?"

"I should have stopped when Romi crashed, but I was blinded by the speed. I thought we could work through the problems. Finally, SRT could be at the top. Finally, there was an opportunity for one of my drivers would win. I would be free, at last."

Nio's mouth dropped open at the revelation that Edge was a prisoner too. "But the sport has rules. You couldn't make these changes..." 

"...without me knowing." Don Mosley smiled, a cold look of determination filling his face. He opened his jacket, revealing a sleek brass gun that glinted menacingly in the sun. "We had a nice lunch, didn't we, Lia? And I thought... why not? New technology is good for the sport. It wouldn't always be Malachite at the top. Sure, it wouldn't last for more than a sprint or two before the entire paddock would be catching hobblers, but I could give you a head start. Unfortunately, some crashes and youthful inexperience ruined your chances of an SRT one-two in Oa. What a headline that would have been."

"I still made the headlines," Nio said.

"But not for the right reasons. Your boss had to throw you a lifeline, with the help of your teammate. The times they helped you, and you still sneaked behind their back, ungrateful Kotayi brat."

"I'm not here to talk about my love life."

"Ah, but maybe we should." Don Mosley pulled out his gun and pointed it at Nio. "We can both play this game, laddy. Please, share your story with our dear friends in the media, and our beloved fans."

Jackpot! They would get the truth and nothing but the truth.

"I've never loved Nina," Nio said bluntly. He knew exactly whose crowd he was speaking to. "Don't get me wrong. She's an incredible woman and an even better teammate. I appreciate her wisdom, her drive, and her passion for racing, but we're not in a relationship. Nothing beyond friendship, anyway. We had to fake being in love, to hide who we are, to hide what this sport is really like. As the championship progressed, I found love in the arms of Ruben Vincuña. I thought I had lost him, and I was ready to die for him. I couldn't imagine a life without him in it."

"Justice for Vincuña!" roared the crowd. "Free the hobblers!"

As their voices grew louder, more and more drivers jerked the engine plate from their cars and removed the tubes that tied them to the machine. 

One by one, the ethereal beings burst into view, shrieking as they surged towards the sky like a flock of iridescent birds taking flight. 

High above, the creatures moved as one, their translucent bodies shimmering in the sunlight, their tentacles synchronised like a choreographed dance.

"As free as the hobblers are, Ruben and I can never be," Nio continued, facing the grandstand. "The Federation will keep us apart. Whatever Don Mosley's interpretation of the rulebook, either Ruben wins or I do. You may think that a driver is forced to quit when they win the title, to keep the pool of drivers fresh, young, and exciting, but it's a lie. We're prisoners. The only way for us to get out is by winning. And that man." Nio turned back to the head of the Federation. "He allows it, encourages it. You heard him—he makes the rules. He is the rules."

"Because you're criminals!" Don Mosley roared. His finger moved closer to the trigger.

Nio fired, then dodged to the side with lightning-speed reflexes. The bullet whizzed past him and flew straight into the floor of his SRT. 

In front of him, Don Mosley fell to the gravel with a thud, his gun clattering. Blood soaked into his chest, forming a pool around him.

From a distance, the medic declared him dead as she yanked the gun from Nio's bloody hands.

What happened next, happened in a blur. The crowd stormed onto the track, other members of the Federation were arrested, coppers and voicebox reporters trusted microphones under Nio and Nina's noses, recounting their tale until their throats were dry and their voices hoarse.

Eventually, his team got to him and, thanks to a sponsor whose name Nio didn't catch, arranged an airship for him. Escorted by highly placed Porti Janon officials, he was taken to Santa Yana Hospital where he stayed all night by Ruben's bed, listening to the endless loops of the voicebox news declaring Speed Sprint Racing dead and buried after a series of scandals.

The red hue of the rising sun shone through the blinds when Ruben opened his eyes.

"So, who won?" he asked nasally. He squinted heavily.

"We both did," Nio said.

"You're so full of shit," Ruben groaned, "and you smell like shit."

"That's your own blood that you're smelling. You broke your nose."

"I feel like I broke every bone in my body."

"Your jaw, a few ribs, a leg, and a wrist. You have a concussion too and several burn wounds from hobbler stings."

"Sounds like you almost had to get that tattoo of my face on your butt." He grimaced as he tried to smile.

"Yeah, almost," Nio said, his fingers interlocking with Ruben's. "I'm glad I don't have to. I would rather have your butt in my face."

"All in due time, my friend," Ruben mused. His eyes were falling shut. "Tell me everything in the morning."

"But it's morn..." 

Nio didn't finish his sentence, as Ruben had already fallen back asleep. He held his boyfriend's hand and listened to his heartbeat. 

That beautiful steady cadence, pulsing like music. 

The rhythm of life.