Ignition Chapter 1: Party Time
The rush of every corner, the thrill of every race.. Is it more of a miracle that these racers can keep up with a city like Los Angeles? Or that Los Angeles can keep up with them?
So, this was originally a RWBY fanfiction I had worked on, but as my interest in RWBY has faded, I decided to reboot it with a fully original cast. Story takes place in a fictional and slightly fantasy Los Angeles. Huge thank you to the ones who support me and push me to get off my ass and actually write ( @wetsliceofbread and @gruntnuker-rwby especially for sharing this brainchild with me). Anyways, enjoy!
He gazed up at the sky through the car window. Orange and red skies were clinging onto their last moments before giving way to the black of night. Business owners just outside were closing up shop. Some were retreating home after a long day of getting pummeled by the southern California sun. But, nightfall wasn’t an end for Los Angeles. All it was instead was an opportunity for a new cast of characters to shine in the City of Angels. And at the heart of it all tonight sat the Clearview District, a place where people from all walks of life converged. Restaurants, fashion boutiques, nightclubs, and bars all mixed together. However, it also played as backdrop for something new to take shape in the city. A new scene, one that served as the perfect stage for these people of the night. It was also a scene that LAPD officials keen on gaining public favor promised to “put a stop to for the good of the city.”
Or at least, that’s what they kept saying. But currently, there wasn’t a single cop roaming the streets of the Clearview District.
The radio in the car softly crackled to life. Behind it, a male voice spoke softly yet calmly.
“I just notified R. Patrols have been rerouted. We are a go.” Another voice followed up, a female carrying a perky and excited tone.
“That’s our 21st century digital boy hard at work!”
“Let’s bust some ass!” A third voice, another female, chimed in, this one a tad deeper than the first. Finally, he reached for the radio. He had waited long enough to make his presence felt.
“Time to remind this city who’s number 1. Let’s move All-Stars!” Every word he said oozed with arrogance, a swagger that was as resolute as it was painfully obvious to anyone who could hear him. Without another moment wasted, he turned the key and fired up the ignition.
The average driver on the freeway didn’t realize just how much they wanted a change in scenery from the sea of monochromatic sedans and pickup trucks. But they got exactly that in the form of a colorful convoy of four cars. On point was a sleek and graceful Ferrari 458 Italia clad in one of the prancing horse’s signature shades of red. Next in line was an orange Dodge Challenger Hellcat, adorned with black racing stripes and the word “HELLFOX” above the rear wheels. Then, a purple 1992 NSX marked with a Honda badge on the front and Japanese characters across the back windshield. And finally, bringing up the rear, a blue Ford Focus tricked out with a custom livery, blue underglow, and - as everyone else who was sharing the highway were quickly learning - a speaker system. As the quartet neared the Dawkins Drive exit, they took their opportunity to leave the freeway behind, forcing everyone else to return to the never-ending parade of the same old cars.
Halted by a red light at the bottom of the off ramp, the Ferrari driver leading the brigade watched as a blue Mitsubishi 3000GT stroll past. A lifted Dodge Ram went past a moment later in the opposite direction. Its tailgate was filled with a few people along with some traffic cones and “ROAD CLOSED” signs. He casually nudged the blinker switch to signal right turn and upon the light turning green, he led the way in pursuit of the Mitsubishi. A brief few blocks later, the group came across a parking garage that usually lay quiet and unsuspecting during the daytime hours. But, as evident by the groups of people excitedly chatting by the front gate and the tuned up cars entering it, it was the hottest spot LA’s nightlife had to offer tonight.
The commotion at the front gate turned its focus to the incoming squad as the Italian supercar led the way inside. The Focus brought the volume of their EDM playlist they were previously blasting down. The Hellcat’s engine rumbled lowly, as if it was itching to unleash its barely hidden power. Each side of the aisle they cruised down was decorated with a wide variety of vehicles. Japanese tuners, muscle cars, European coupes, sport bikes, trucks. Some were plastered with intricate vinyl paint jobs. Others kept a more modest look in hopes of being slept on. Some were equipped with personalized body kits. Many of them had their hoods up to put their engines on display. Everyone was there to show their trophy vehicles to the world.
After a moment of searching, the eye-catching 458 found a place for the team to park. Once stopped, the door swung open and a pair of pricey sneakers stepped out and met the concrete ground below. Red hair that nearly matched his car swooped above electric yellow eyes. His lean but athletic 5’10 build was hidden under a custom white and red baseball jersey. On the front were the words “Ospreay Industries” and on the back was a bold #1 underneath the last name that matched the company. He took one glance at the gold watch around his wrist before looking out at the crowd that viewed him pull in. His ego swelled in his chest.
“That entrance never gets old. The West Coast All-Stars have arrived.” Dash Ospreay spoke with the same cocky demeanor he displayed over the radio. This was only exacerbated by the by the trio of girls he caught scanning him from the corner of his eye. The smug look on his face could probably be seen from space. His train of thought, however, came crashing down thanks to a deafening roar from the Hellcat’s V8 engine that it had been begging to let loose.
“Ugh, Auburn! Auburn!” Dash tried to yell over the motor but to little avail. The muscle car’s driver ceased the barrage of horsepower and stepped out amidst mischievous cackling. She stood a few inches shorter than Dash at 5’7 with long, wavy reddish-brown hair and crimson eyes. She took a moment to adjust her MMA-style fingerless gloves as she got out. A leather jacket sat over a black tube top that left her toned midriff exposed. A chain belt was wrapped around her waist over torn up jeans that went down to black boots. However, perhaps her most notable physical trait was the pair of fox ears on her head and matching tail that swayed behind her.
“What’s that? Can’t hear ya, Bubblegum,” the fox hybrid Auburn Vulpes said with a snickering grin. She held up a hand to her ear playfully and shook her head like she couldn’t hear him. Dash could only groan and roll his eyes in response. By this point, the NSX had taken its place on the other side of her. The door was open and its pilot was still inside, a silhouette illuminated by the several screens that had taken over the dashboard. The boy had black hair that stopped just short of a purple pair of headphones around his neck. His eyes were hidden due to the glare off of his glasses. As he halfway turned to address the fox hybrid, his hands remained stuffed in his hoodie pockets. He also revealed a heavily modified tablet strapped to his arm.
“Auburn, I go through a lot of effort trying to keep the police off of us. Pretty sure every cop from here to Australia heard that,” Solomon Roxos said. He did much better to hide any signs of annoyance compared to Dash.
“That’s the best compliment you could ever give me,” Auburn replied, her grin only growing. Solomon could only shake his head and stifle a tiny chuckle as he brought his attention back to his tech. But, it was quickly yanked away again as the last member of the All-Stars had snuck up from behind him.
“Oh c’mon Technomancer! You’ve got this all under control, so why not have a little fun now that we’re here?” The initial surprise caused Solomon to jump slightly, enough to knock his headphones off his neck, although he did catch them before they hit the ground. He’d never allow them to fall. Once recollected, he faced the girl, who was sporting a genuine gleaming smile back at him. Her long, straight hair was streaked with blue and black. Her skin tone was a beautiful caramel tone. Long legs brought her even an inch taller than Dash. She had on a short blue skirt, gray blouse, blue tie, and black knee high boots.
“Sapphire,” Solomon started but almost immediately trailed off, unable to his finish his thought. No one could really stay mad at Sapphire Hyacinth for long.
“Whaaaat? It’s a party, isn’t it? Or at least it is now that we’re here,” she giggled. While Auburn folded her arms across her ample chest and nodded in agreement, Solomon seemed to be in no rush leaving his crew’s designated spot to mingle with the “partiers”.
“Someone should let Royce know we’re here,” he said shyly in an attempt to dodge the subject.
“Right. I’ll go find her,” Dash volunteered.
“Wait, I’m coming too! I gotta see around this meet!” Sapphire said.
“Gonna hold me up while you get pics for your instagram?”
“Nooooooo.” Her smile grew after a moment like she couldn’t hide it any longer. “Ok maybe.” The redheaded leader wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they started their walk through the heart of the meet. Both of their eyes wandered around at the vibrant array of cars surrounding them. A sly smirk crept across Sapphire’s countenance the more she looked around. In a moment’s notice, she whipped out her phone and bolted away from Dash.
“Sapph!” he called out. But it was too late. She already had made her way toward a Honda Civic EK9. The owner obliged the black and blue haired influencer’s request, leaning against the front of their treasured car and allowing Sapphire to get a couple of quick shots. An exchange of compliments and pleasant small talk was cut short though as she looked over her shoulder to see Dash walking away to continue his mission.
“All-Star wait up!” she said. Dash tilted his head a little to hide the tiny smile he gave himself. It was Sapphire’s nickname for Dash that ended up lending to their team name in the first place. Sapphire jogged to catch up with him, her long legs making the stride easy.
“I’m trying to find Royce first. Get business done, then you’ll have plenty of time to play around,” Dash told her. And almost as if on cue, they sighted a black Nissan Silvia S13 with a masterfully painted livery. Every inch of the car, every little detail, seemed treated with precise care and passionate love. Purple stripes flanked a white one down the middle of the hood. A floral design overlaid with purple tribal markings shot down the side of the car toward a pinstripe ending on the trunk. Once they circled around, they could see that trunk was currently popped open with a girl leaning against it. She possessed green eyes and two-tone hair that split right down the middle, one half black and the other a silvery white. She wore a black sleeveless top with multicolored paint splatter decals on the chest under a bomber jacket, and leggings that hugged her legs all the way down to a pair of Converse on her feet.
“Heyyy Royce!” Sapphire greeted her before aiming her camera at her. Royce Fiala barely had time to smile back. She reached one hand down to rummage through the trunk. The sound of spray cans rattling as they’re being strewn around can be heard before she pulled out and put on a gas mask with purple LEDs around the filters. As she stood up and struck a more serious pose for the photographer, she revealed a skunk tail behind her. Sapphire took the picture, allowing the skunk hybrid to relax once again.
“Make sure you tag White Stripe,” she said.
“Always do. Gotta show my favorite paint booth some love,” Sapphire answered. Not only was Royce the organizer for LA’s racing scene, she was also an artist of many different mediums. Although usually her artwork came back down to her two favorites: cars and graffiti. After a nod of gratitude to Sapphire, she shifted to the uncharacteristically quiet Ospreay.
“What, the illustrious and acclaimed heir to Ospreay Industries has nothing to say?”
“I’m just here as always to remind you and everyone else why I wear this number 1 on my back. I’m here to lead the best team on your circuit and look damn good doing it. I’m not here for the likes and followers.” Royce wanted to argue him, but she couldn’t. The West Coast All-Stars had sat atop the scene’s leaderboards for months now. Sapphire stuck her tongue out at him, internally praying he wouldn’t press any further before a slight nudge from Royce interrupted her thought.
“Probably just deleted all his socials cause he got tired of seeing all the bad press of his family’s company on his feed,” Royce whispered to her just loud enough for Dash to hear. Sapphire kept her lips pursed shut, trying not to react in any way, even clasping a hand over her mouth to aid her. Dash stood there with arms crossed, attempting and failing to hide the fact that he was fuming.
“Sounds like someone’s just jealous I can afford gorgeous supercars with ease while you struggle to get your little paint booth off-”
“Dash, behave!” Sapphire snapped to quiet him. Both the other parties involved stirred a little. Especially Dash, whose startlement was easily read across his face.
“Just shut up and pay me,” Royce said. “Not like you can’t afford it.” Quietly, Dash pulled out a stack of bills and handed it to the artist with a bit more force than what was necessary. After a quick flip through to mentally count what she deemed was enough money, she barely glanced above the wad of cash, Royce once again glanced up confront Dash once more. “This better be race winnings and not daddy’s blood money.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, that ‘blood money’ does a lot to help you out. Keeps the cops off our trail and lets them buy something nice for their wives,” Dash reassured.
“Right. Had to remind me of the reason we keep you around,” Royce retorted. By this point, Sapphire had ceased sitting around awkwardly, mentally pleading for this to stop, and decided to take action by standing between the two of them. Royce took this as her cue to resume having a normal conversation as opposed to verbal jabs. “So, which one of you is racing tonight?”
“You already know, girl!” Sapphire giggled. “Dash promised this race to me tonight. I’ve been wanting something different besides the drift events. So I got the race setup in today, along with a new set of tires from Harley. Speaking of which, where are your girls?”
“Setting up the track. Should be done any minute now.”
“Who’s racing tonight?” Dash reentered the chat once again. “Who needs to know that if you’re coming for the kings-”. A swift yet subtle elbow to the side cut Dash off. Sapphire rolled her eyes and Dash took a second to correct himself. “And queens. You better not miss.”
“Jynx signed up in his Monte Carlo. Got a couple others I’m not too familiar with. One chick, I think her name was Victoria? And some new guy Kato. I don’t know, we’ll see how they do.” Sapphire nodded, taking her words in but clearly not showing much concern about them. “You don’t seem too worried about it though,” Royce went on.
“Nope!” Sapphire said before Dash could have any chance to come back with another obnoxious comment. “Auburn and Sol are doing the final tuning right now. So that means-” She pivoted to once again inspect the legion of machines that lined the parking garage walls with a glimmer in her eye. “I can play.” She strut her way toward a different kind of inspiration for her socials, this one only coming with two wheels. A crimson Yamaha R6, with its driver leaned next to it, their face concealed under a matching helmet.
“May I?” Sapphire asked them with phone out. The biker quietly nodded and stood by the handlebars, allowing the custom painted fairings to be front and center. Then, they threw one leg up onto the bike and pointed a peace sign at the camera. “Oooooh a bit of sexy, a bit of feisty, I like it!” Sapphire said while nabbing a few photos. Meanwhile, Dash had returned back to his other two team members. Auburn was under the hood of the Focus doing some slight adjusting, while Solomon was in its driver seat tapping on his tablet screen.
“Any update?” Dash asked, snatching Solomon away from his task. Over his shoulder was his laptop opened in the passenger seat. The monitor exhibited a series of data points graphed neatly onto tuning sheets.
“Just making sure the route’s finalized in her GPS and putting the last touches on- ,”
“We’re set. She’s ready to go,” Auburn said definitively, both cutting Solomon off and finally acknowledging Dash before shutting the hood. After a moment to register, Solomon hastily unplugged his laptop and gathered his stuff to exit the car. There was never any shaking Auburn. If she said ready, then it was ready. By this point, Sapphire had finally rejoined the crew, scrolling through the large jackpot of pictures she had spent the night thus far scoring as she walked.
“So if I lose, I just blame the tune right?” she said.
“You even remotely think you’re gonna lose?” Auburn asked back. She got Sapphire’s trademark smile back. They both already knew the answer to that question. The duo shared a snicker and a fist bump before Sapphire climbed into her glossy blue chariot. The 4-cylinder engine fired to life and slowly started rolling its way out the garage. As she drove out, on each side of her, the majority of the crowd was filing out with her. Two cars were already lined up on the street: a red and black Mazda RX-8 and a yellow Volkswagen Mk4 Golf. In her mirrors, she can see the headlights of a black 1980s Chevrolet Monte Carlo. Grinning to herself, Sapphire stopped at the curb, allowing the muscle car to pull alongside her. The window of the Chevy rolled down to reveal a dark-skinned man with magenta eyes and dreads bundled into a ponytail looking back at her.
“Champion’s privilege, Jynx. I make my entrance last.” she told him.
“You know, I bet that girl Victoria if I can beat her Mazda, that I’m getting some from her tonight? I can make it a 2-for-1 special when I win if you want in,” Jynx said back with such confidence it would make the guys who hit on Sapphire at the club think that was a bit much. “Get you to stop playing with Richie RIch’s toys and show you a real smooth ride.”
“That’s your best shot at flirting?” Sapphire scoffed playfully and rolled her eyes. “By the way, some girls prefer it rough.” The sneer now knocked off of us his face, she let the Monte Carlo take its place on the grid before she did the same. Two onlookers equipped with spray cans provided by Royce painted a makeshift start/finish line just before the four lined up front bumpers.
“You got this, Sapph!” Sapphire’s attention darted to her left to see Auburn cheering her on loud enough to be heard through the window. The rest of her squad was on the sidewalk with a front row seat for the start of the action.
“Make the All-Stars proud,” Dash continued. She nodded and took a deep breath. All of her energy refocused to what was in front of the windshield. Royce, decorated with her gas mask once more, took her place in between the two middle cars. She momentarily crouched down and motioned for Kato’s Golf to creep forward a few inches. Once she deemed it satisfactory, she held up her hand and stood back up. One by one, she pointed to each of the combatants, and when each of them responded affirmatively, it was decided.
“Ready.”
Sapphire gripped her steering wheel just a little bit tighter. A couple of steps on the gas pedal to rev the engine. The other engines also grew louder, especially Jynx’s.
“Set.”
Each second that ticked by felt ten times longer. Each car inched forward, begging to be free from their neutral gear bondage. Two steps forward from Royce. Then, both hands raised up. They seemed to be there for what felt like eternity. So long the drivers were amazed she could hold them up for so long, despite it only being a few seconds in real world time. Then, the explosion. Her hands dropped.
“Go!”
A symphonious cacophony of hundreds of horsepower filled the air to the brim. Tires squealing for grip. Engines hitting high revs before their drivers start shifting through the low gears. The eruption of applause from the now deafened crowd. It all came together in a uniquely beautiful noise, one Royce reveled in as the four race warriors roared past her, leaving her in a slight layer of tire smoke.
“Here they come!” she yelled into a radio as she spun around to watch them go. From the crowd’s point of view, it appeared the Monte Carlo used the most of its power and got the best jump, giving Jynx a slight edge off the line. Sapphire was trying to hold serve on driver side left as she had the inside line for the first corner, a 90 degree left hander onto Rosegold Street. Victoria’s RX-8 on the other side of the lineup was not too far off of Sapphire’s Focus, and the Golf slotted into 4th after a little laggy start.
“Damn that never gets old!” Auburn laughed. Dash nodded in agreement, a childlike smile plastered across his face as well. He had already taken his place of watching Sapphire via the onboard feed transmitting to Solomon’s tablet. As Royce walked off the street and Auburn began watching over the tech expert’s other shoulder, however, everyone’s attention was violently brought back to the road at an unfamiliar sound. An approaching 5 liter V8 Coyote engine. A blue Ford Mustang barreled toward the mass of spectators then blurred past them, hurdling in pursuit of the race.
“Who’s that??” Dash barked with arms outstretched in a mixture of confusion and frustration. Everyone mirrored his uncertainty. Only one thing could be certain though. Whoever this new challenger was, the other racers better be prepared.