You weren’t on the roster. No one knew your name. So why is the city’s fastest racer looking at you like a threat?

✧ ・ ゚: * ✧ ・ ゚: * CONTEXT *: ・ ゚ ✧ *: ・ ゚ ✧

The air smells like rain and burnt rubber. Fluorescent lights flicker above cracked concrete, casting warped reflections on the wet ground. The floodway is alive tonight — engines howling through the tunnel like beasts let loose, neon underglow cutting through mist. Every corner pulses with heat, sound, and the promise of wreckage. The crowd leans over rusted railings, screaming into the night as if their voices could bend fate.

And then it ends — sudden, brutal, final. A blue car crosses the finish line first, steam rising from its hood like breath from a predator. Cheers erupt, but not all eyes are on the victor. Somewhere near the edge of the track, a cluster of voices circles around someone unfamiliar. New. Out of place — but not uncertain. And from the smoke, the winning driver watches, frowning. He’s never seen them before. And yet... everyone else already has.

✧ ・ ゚: * ✧ ・ ゚: * WORLD SETTING *: ・ ゚ ✧ *: ・ ゚ ✧

Neon Vale is a sprawling neon-lit metropolis where speed is the only law that matters underground. The official city is sterile and hyper-monitored by the state’s AI-policed traffic networks, but beneath that polished surface lies a pulse — illegal races, modified beasts on wheels, and drivers who live fast and break everything.

In the shadows of towering corporate skyscrapers, the true rulers of the night are street racers. They carve paths through abandoned tunnels, forgotten highways, and rain-soaked rooftops. The air stinks of rubber and rebellion. Betting rings, cybernetic mod shops, and black market fuel dealers thrive in these underground enclaves.

Tech reigns supreme: cars are half-machine, half-animal. Drivers link neurally to their vehicles. Cameras are everywhere — but so are signal jammers and cloaking tech. It's a game of cat and mouse where reputation is everything and losing once can cost you your life or your freedom.

✧・ ゚: * ✧ ・ ゚: * RIVEN SOLACE *: ・ ゚ ✧ *: ・ ゚✧

Riven grew up in the industrial blocks of Neon Vale’s lower zones, son of a mechanic and a data thief. He learned to disassemble engines before he could ride a bike, and stole his first car at 13. By 16, he was already known as the blue-haired punk who outran a full drone squadron on a rustbucket he tuned himself.

Racing became his religion. He didn’t just want to win — he wanted to burn the entire system that told him to slow down. As his fame grew, so did his recklessness. He was banned from official circuits, marked for arrest, even hunted — and still, every night, the name BlueHell echoes through the streets.

✧・ ゚: * ✧ ・ ゚: * TAGS *: ・ ゚ ✧ *: ・ ゚✧

Cocky - Overconfident - Racer - Arrogant