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NUMBER 66 GOING ROUND THE BEND INTO THE STRAIGHT, PULLING AHEAD AGAIN IS SASHA PETROVA! GAGE FALLING BEHIND AS THEY ROUND THE FINAL CURVE AND HE SWINGS WIDE- AND SASHA PETROVA HAS WON AGAIN!
She stills, her breathing slowing as she takes a moment to ready herself. The race hadn’t started yet, she shouldn’t have had to worry. She was good. She was very good.
Yet something in Sasha’s gut squirmed as she climbs into her car, and as they hand her back her steering wheel, and clip it- and her into place. Something whispering in the back of her mind.
She rubs a hand on the smooth carbon fiber that arcs around her in the signature protective halo. It’s her race. She would win. She was the green racer who crushed records under her boot. She was not afraid of anything on this track besides herself, and her race engineer.
She steadies herself. No crashes, no accidents. She would win. She had to.
She would be fine, it would be fine. Sasha chases those thoughts away from her mind, blinking rapidly as she watches the lights- waiting for the moment to lunge forward, to become the streak of green and yellow she was born to be.
She was speed, she was danger. She had no need for the thoughts in her head. She was the best in the world, this would prove it. She would show her team, she would show the world just what she was.
She wasn’t some washed-out fuck-up in Daytona. She wasn’t crawling back to her family, belly up and neck bared to their insults. She was top of the pack. A hundred miles an hour.
She stiffens as she hears Mako's voice in her headset. The Race engineer was younger than her, but perhaps the best engineer in the entire world. Sharper than a tack.
“Eyes on the prize, Petrova.” She feels the smile curling through her words. “Make us proud, the big man is here to say something-“
“Good luck, 66” Stacker says, for a moment as he pages into her headset.
“They are, and I will. Have I ever let you down?” She quips, before her eyes snap to the starting line.
“Flags in 10,”
She curls her fingers around her steering wheel.
“9”
She breathes in again, feeling her mind calm.
“8”
She will win this. She is the best here.
“7”
She’s going to prove them wrong. Again.
“6”
Sasha steadies her gaze ahead of herself, and watches the other cars out of the corners of her eye.
“5”
Close, getting closer.
“4”
She grins wide, teeth gnashing.
“3”
She would show the world. Show her family what she truly was.
“2”
Not human. Not anymore.
“1”
Speed incarnate.
The car lunges out under her, and she feels the speed through her arms, through her body as they rip away from the starting line. Letting out wild laughter, the screaming of tires on asphalt. She lets herself free.
—————
“Sasha, go into pit, your tires need changing yesterday-“
“Ah. Fuck it, I feel they could last, little longer, I’m not seeing rubber tearing-“ She quips back at Mako, as her engineer groans through the mic.
“I think we would all prefer you not-“ and the mic is cut short as number 35, fishtails in front of her, before rolling, and skidding into the barrier.
The car in front of her bursts into flames as it strikes, and chunks of carbon fiber and steel hurtle through the air.
Her eyes track it as the car slams into the concrete, and she swerves around it- narrowly avoiding a piece of carbon fiber that is thrown from the crash. She gulps for air as she tries to calm down. Squeezing the steering wheel as she bolts past the flaming wreck, just trying to avoid hitting any of the other drivers.
“SASHA, PIT, NOW,” She scrambles, and slows as Stacker barks at her through her headset. Swerving wildly as she pulls into her pit stop
She’s shaking slightly, as the red flag is called, and she fights her way out of her car. Kicking her way up and out of her seat in the five seconds she's allotted herself to not destroy her car.
There are hands on her, and she pushes away from them, before ripping her helmet off her head as quickly as possible, and she vomits into a trash can that is shoved under her face.
She shudders more, and just pressed her forehead against the cold concrete under her, as she suddenly leans forward. There is a hand pressed against her shoulder blades, and she doesn't even try and fight it.
“-asha- Sasha- are you alright?” That's Mako's voice in her ear, again. The engineer is her right hand, but fuck, Sasha doesnt know if she can really respond right now. Even with the slight woman beside her, she felt like she was falling.
“Im… Fine,” She says eventually, still crouched on the floor, folded in on herself.
Dumbly, in the back of her mind, she hopes that there are no cameras on her.
“Sasha, they got him out. They think he’s going to be ok, they are taking him to the hospital now.” Sasha blinks dumbly, and she sits up slowly.
“Thank you for telling me. I'm not sure what came over me there.” She says stiffly.
Mako gives her a knowing look, and seems to sigh, before Sasha looks up to see Pentecost. Her manager is giving her a look she hasnt seen in awhile, and she squirms under his gaze for a moment.
“Im still solid to drive, Sir. If they lift the red flag.”
“Petrova, get some water. Then we will talk about that. Nothing will be happening for quite some time.”
She just nods, and climbs back to her feet, gently shrugging off Mako's touch, before she moves to get a bottle of water, and hide in the back of her pit garage.
Sulking about, she watches the new engine technician, Raleigh, look over her car. She respects that he's through, and that he doesn't bug her with questions or problems.
She doesn't like that the car crashing in front of her shook her so much. She had seen crashes before, but never had crashed herself, had never been so close. It still makes her sick to her stomach thinking about the way the carbon fiber rent apart.
She hoped, in some part of her mind. That she would go out like that. In a blaze of glory, and a swift death on the track.
—————
Back in the swing of the race, but with the burning car still a sparking memory in her mind. She pushes herself harder.
Sasha Petrova would win.
She would win until she didn't.
She would win, until what was left of her was spread on the track and nothing but dust.
PETROVA IS HEADING INTO THE LAST STRAIGHT, CLIMBING THE RANKS AND NIPPING ON GAGES HEELS. THIS WILL BE A CLOSE RACE, AS THEY ARE HEADING INTO THE FINAL LAP.