Ro-Ro stepped outside, the bell over the door jingling behind him. The midday sun cast a glare across the dusty road, heat waves rising from the cracked pavement. There, standing across from the diner's front steps, was the man—tall, motionless.
His hair fell in sharp bangs that framed his pale, stone-carved face, and his cold gray eyes locked onto Ro-Ro like a scope. Neither of them moved for a moment.
Ro-Ro tilted his head, cracking his neck. "So you're the creepy guy giving me bedroom eyes through the damn window." He smirked. "What? You want a kiss? An autograph? Or are you just gonna keep staring at me like a zombie craving a face buffet?"
The man didn't blink. His voice was low, gravelly, but deliberate. "You… Ro-Ro. I know who you are."
Ro-Ro raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Yeah? That makes one of us."
"I joined this race," the man continued, "for one reason—to kill you. I've been paid very, very well to drag your screaming corpse out of that car of yours."
Ro-Ro blinked, then frowned. "Huh? Paid? The hell are you talking about?"
The man took a slow step forward, fists clenched. "I am LuMo. And I'm going to kill you slow. Painful. Like twisting a knife into your gut and spinning it like I'm opening a goddamn doorknob."
Ro-Ro stared at him blankly, then slowly clapped. "Wow. That was cute. Poetry night at the psychopath café?"
LuMo's eye twitched.
Ro-Ro casually brushed past him.
"What are you doing?" LuMo growled.
Ro-Ro held up a finger. "Shhh."
He strolled right past the assassin and headed to a nearby vending machine shaped like a giant pink cat. It had cartoonish eyes and a mouth for a dispenser. He pressed a glowing button labeled #3: G-MAX Energy and dropped a coin into the slot.
The machine meowed twice: "Meow! Meow!" Then hissed as a cold can rolled out.
Ro-Ro squatted down, grabbed the drink, popped the tab, and chugged without hesitation. The silver can hissed with neon vapor as the liquid disappeared into him.
LuMo clenched his fists, veins bulging in his neck. "What… the HELL… are you?"
Ro-Ro held up his finger again. Shhh.
Then he finished the can, let out a loud burp, and tossed it into a trash bin behind him without looking.
"Sorry," he said, wiping his mouth. "My throat was dry."
LuMo roared, pointing a shaking finger at him. "You STUPID SON OF A BITCH! You drank a damn energy drink—while we were about to fight!"
Ro-Ro cracked his knuckles, eyes flashing with that familiar cocky fire. "Well, yeah. Can't beat the brakes off a lunatic while parched, can I?"
He took a step forward, his smile turning razor-sharp. "Now that I'm hydrated…"
He slammed his fists together. "I'm ready."
LuMo's eyes gleamed with bloodlust as he pulled out a serrated combat knife, the blade humming with a faint electric current.
"I'm going to enjoy this," he whispered, licking his teeth.
Ro-Ro's face twisted in disgust. "I bet you would, you horny bastard."
His hand darted to the back of his pants to grab his Desert Eagle—but before he could even grip the handle, LuMo was gone. A gust of wind slammed into Ro-Ro's chest—then pain.
LuMo appeared like a phantom, already driving his blade into Ro-Ro's forearm with a sickening metallic crunch.
"What the hell—" Ro-Ro growled, staring at his damaged robotic arm.
LuMo grinned, his breath hot against Ro-Ro's cheek. "I've got implants. Speed boosters wired straight into my nervous system. I move faster than the roadrunner now. Upgrade 'em a little more? I'll be faster than light."
He yanked the knife out and blurred backwards, boots skidding on the dirt.
Ro-Ro took a step back, glancing at the torn metal casing and twitching servos in his arm. "Well shit… I might actually lose here."
LuMo flashed a fang-toothed grin. "No, no. You will lose."
Ro-Ro gritted his teeth and whipped out his gun, firing three quick shots. BLAM. BLAM. BLAM. LuMo zig-zagged through the narrow alley of parked cars, narrowly avoiding each bullet, sparks dancing behind him.
Ro-Ro ducked behind a rusted-out hover truck, his breath quick. Damn it… he's fast. Too fast. But if I can get my hands on him… it's game over.
Across the lot, LuMo crouched behind a red coupe, his mind racing. So that arm's upgraded—figures. But he's sluggish. He relies on power. If he catches me, I'm screwed.
He peeked over the hood—nothing.
He ducked. "Where the hell did he—"
His eyes flicked down. A boot.
Ro-Ro's foot rested just beside the tire of a nearby car. LuMo's eyes widened. Smart bastard.
Without hesitation, LuMo sprinted toward the next car over—and there he was. Ro-Ro. Surprised, wide-eyed.
Too late.
LuMo tackled him with a brutal left hook, then another. Fists like thunderclaps. Ro-Ro grunted, stumbling back from the barrage.
Until—SNAP.
Ro-Ro caught both of LuMo's fists mid-swing. His fingers locked around LuMo's wrists like steel clamps.
Ro-Ro grinned. "Gotcha, you slippery bastard."
WHAM! He headbutted LuMo directly on the bridge of his nose—CRACK—and hurled him bodily through the air. LuMo's body bounced off a car hood with a sickening thud, rolling onto the pavement in a groan.
Ro-Ro looked at the street and there were no more vehicles and sighed. "Man, no more damn cars. Ah shit—we're dead last."
His eyes narrowed again as LuMo sprang back to his feet. Ro-Ro raised his gun and squeezed off two more shots. LuMo, zigzagging like a demon, ran straight past the bullets and toward Ro-Ro.
Before Ro-Ro could react, LuMo grabbed the waistband of his shorts from behind, lifted him like a sack of trash—and hurled him through the air.
Ro-Ro slammed into the cat-shaped vending machine, glass shattering and spearing into his back like crystalline claws. He slumped down, blood trailing from his mouth.
"Shit…" he wheezed.
LuMo lunged, bringing his blade down straight for Ro-Ro's skull—but Ro-Ro twisted his head left at the last moment. The blade missed, and LuMo's fist punched straight into the jagged glass.
"AGHHH!" LuMo shrieked as shards sliced through his knuckles.
Ro-Ro didn't miss the chance.
He rose like a beast, arm pistons firing, and unleashed a fury of punches into LuMo's torso—each one a sledgehammer. One, two, three, FOUR brutal strikes to the ribs, lifting LuMo off the ground.
Then—SNIKT.
LuMo stabbed him.
The blade sunk deep into Ro-Ro's gut, twisting.
"GAAH—!" Ro-Ro staggered back, clutching his abdomen.
LuMo backed away, panting, blood dripping from his own hand.
"You see?" he hissed. "I stabbed you. Just like I said."
He grinned with cracked teeth. "Looks like I'm the winner after all."
Ro-Ro dropped to one knee, a ragged breath tearing through his throat. Blood dripped from his lip as he coughed hard, spitting red into the dirt.
"Shit..." he muttered, eyes narrowing.
His robotic eyes whirred quietly—thermal scan activating, depth perception sharpening, HUD flickering with digital overlays. A heat signature flickered behind LuMo. Ro-Ro smirked through the pain.
"Heh... you sure got me, huh?" he chuckled weakly, wobbling a little.
LuMo stood tall, blade dripping with blood, his hand still bandaged in slivers of glass. He smiled down like a man admiring a painting he just finished stabbing.
"Of course I got you," LuMo said, stepping forward. "You think I joined this race just for the prize money? Nah. I wanted this. To see you crawl. To see you bleed."
Ro-Ro looked up, his expression dim at first, then something sparked. His lips curled into a crooked, defiant grin.
"Yeah? Well then..." Ro-Ro muttered, voice low. "Got you."
LuMo blinked. "Wh—?"
SCREEEEEECH—CRASH!!!
A car roared from the side alley—MeMe's ride, Streak-9, on autopilot—and slammed into LuMo's back at full speed, metal bending and bones cracking as LuMo was thrown like a ragdoll into a pile of shattered glass and bent car doors.
"What the FUCK—!" LuMo shrieked as he was crushed against the wall.
Ro-Ro groaned and stood slowly, yanking the blood-soaked knife from his gut and tossing it aside with a clatter.
"I knew you were gonna walk over here all dramatic and shit," Ro-Ro said, wiping blood from his chin. "So I timed the autopilot on the car… just right. Waited for your dumbass to hit your mark."
He staggered toward LuMo, who was now dazed, broken, and coughing against the car hood.
Ro-Ro's footsteps were heavy and uneven, his body bruised and leaking red—but his eyes were burning.
He cracked his knuckles. "Now…"
He raised his fist.
"…time for your bedtime."
WHAM!
Ro-Ro's punch landed flush on LuMo's jaw, a devastating hammer blow that snapped his head sideways. LuMo's eyes rolled up, and he slumped over unconscious, collapsing to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.
Ro-Ro stared down at him, chest heaving, sweat and blood mixing on his brow.
He exhaled sharply, then muttered, "Dumbass…"
His legs gave out, and he dropped to the ground beside LuMo, flat on his back, arms spread wide.
"...I hate Mondays."