CHAPTER 31: CAT AND MOUSE-2

The stadium thundered with noise as the race finally began. On the giant screens, chaos unfolded in bursts of light and dust. The intercom crackled over the speakers:

"Player 111 out! Player 214 out!"

The words rang like bullets. Another two names flashed red before disappearing.

Lucien sat frozen in front of the screen, his reflection flickering across the monitor’s glass. The numbers shifted again, more red, more drops. He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling through gritted teeth.

"Predators are dropping faster than usual," he muttered, scanning the leaderboard. His gaze stopped at the top name SPIKE – 9 catches.

Lucien scoffed quietly. "Of course. The man’s a beast."

But his eyes fell to the bottom of the list.

HUNTER – 0 catches.

The number pulsed like a heartbeat, mocking him.

He leaned closer to the screen. Patience ,that’s what he has to be , we cant afford acting recklessly now

A knock came at the door. Lucien didn’t look up.

"Come in," he said sharply.

The door creaked open, and an old familiar voice filled the air. "Oi, kiddo, how you doing?"

Lucien turned. "Old man Harris," he said, surprised, though the weariness never left his tone.

The old man chuckled as he walked to stand beside him, his coat smelling faintly of motor oil and rain. "Tough game out there, isn’t it?" He squinted at the screen as Spike threw another opponent into a wall. "Bloody hell, that guy hasn’t changed one bit."

Lucien gave a small smirk. "Yeah. It’s brutal."

Harris’ eyes flicked to the lower end of the screen. "Oi... Hunter’s still at zero, huh? Did you give any orders yet?"

Lucien slowly shook his head. "It’s not time."

The old man laughed, low and raspy. "You and your patience, boy. Meanwhile my driver doesn’t even need me. He cut off our comms before the race started."

Lucien’s head snapped toward him. "Ethan did that?"

Harris nodded, amused. "Aye. Says I talk too much."

Lucien looked back at the leaderboard. Ethan’s name glowed on the list, 5 catches. He exhaled through his nose. "Of course he did," he murmured. "He’s always the type to go solo.". oh maybe, he just doesn’t need someone else to be his eyes and ears yet

Before Harris could reply, the door burst open again. Mason stumbled in, drenched in sweat and panting.

"Man, I’m beat," he groaned, collapsing onto the couch. "Even the fans are insane. Nearly tore my shirt off."

Lucien barely looked at him. His eyes were locked on the shifting scores.

Harris chuckled, patting Lucien’s shoulder. "Well, I’ll leave you to it, kiddo. Hope you got something up your sleeve."

Lucien just nodded as the old man exited.

A roar split the air.

Spike’s bike screeched across the asphalt, the engine snarling like a beast as he caught a predator by the collar and lifted him clean off the bike.

"Player 95 eliminated!" the intercom screamed.

The crowd exploded. Spike howled with laughter, tossing the poor rider aside like trash. "Next!" he bellowed, his eyes wild with bloodlust ."come here my little riders"

He looked ahead, dust, fire, and lights blurring into streaks of chaos.

Somewhere in the storm, he knew Hunter was still sitting at zero.

That thought made him grin even wider. "what a useless prey, they should have made him a predator instead, it was going to be a delight catch"

Ethan leaned low on his bike, his body cutting through the wind like a blade. He spotted Spike ahead, towering, unstoppable, carnage trailing behind him. He shook his head, disgusted, and swerved to another lane.

"I’m not wasting time with you by my side," he muttered.

His HUD blinked—five catches. Good.

He’d done enough damage for now.

As he turned the next corner, movement flickered in the distance, Hunter’s bike, slow and measured, gliding along the perimeter of the map.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ethan thought.

He narrowed his eyes. "Lucien... what kind of twisted plan is this?"

He throttled forward, pushing the bike harder, the roar echoing through the empty street. If Hunter was holding back, it wasn’t because he was weak, it was because Lucien wanted something, and Ethan was no fool when it came to Lucien, he has something up his sleeves

"The stakes are getting higher," the commentator announced. "Spike remains at the top with the most catches, followed by Bulldozer! But look at this, Prey Hunter has not caught a single target in the first ten minutes. I wonder what he’s planning?, or maybe he’s unable to catch anything at all, that will be such a shame"

Lucien’s expression didn’t change. He leaned on the desk, silent, eyes fixed on the small green blip on his screen, Hunter’s tracker. Still. Waiting.

Beside him, Mason crossed his arms. "He’s not moving. You’re really not gonna tell him to do anything?"

Lucien didn’t answer.

Timothy’s voice echoed faintly through the stadium speakers, caught by an overhead mic

"I bet he realized this isn’t his playground anymore," he sneered, right before pulling another predator off their bike.

Player 60 eliminated.

" they should start packing and leave it to the big boss" he taunted

Lucien barely blinked.

Then, after a moment, he sat forward, voice calm. "Alright. Time’s up."

He tapped the earpiece. "Hunter, you there?"

"About time, Chiquittin," Hunter’s voice came through, cocky and dark. "I was getting kinda lonely not joining the fun."

Lucien’s lips curved faintly. "Increase your speed by exactly twenty. Sharp left on the next intersection. Two targets in that lane, you’ll take the one on the left."

He exhaled. "Go."

The hum in his ear barely faded before Hunter twisted the throttle.

The bike screamed forward.

Lucien’s voice guided him, cool and precise. "Now—brake. Drift right."

Hunter turned, dust flying behind him. Ahead, two predators appeared. Perfect.

The first didn’t even see him coming. Hunter cut him off, reached out, and slammed his palm against the other’s shoulder sensor. The helmet light flashed red.

"Prey Hunter – first catch."

The crowd erupted.

Hunter grinned beneath his helmet. "That’s one."

Lucien’s voice again, quick, focused: "Next turn. You’ve got another one coming up. Use the alley on your right."

Hunter obeyed without hesitation.

Within minutes, his screen flashed 10 catches.

Mason’s eyes went wide as the numbers updated. "How did you—? That’s impossible! He had zero five minutes ago!"

Lucien barely moved. "In order to win," he said quietly, "you don’t just learn the map. You learn your opponents. You learn their bikes. Some engines overheat mid-run, others fail to handle cornering speed. You wait. You strike when they burn out."

Mason just stared. "You sound like you’ve done this before."

Lucien didn’t answer. "that’s why they call me the ghost mechanic "

Timothy gritted his teeth as the intercom roared again:

"Five minutes left! Spike still on top, but look at that, Hunter has caught up with Timothy, neck and neck!"

He cursed under his breath. "Oh, hell no."

Ahead, he spotted Hunter going for another target.

"Not this time," he growled.

He swung his bike around, cutting dangerously close to Hunter. Their handlebars clashed with a screech of metal. Hunter swerved but caught his balance just in time.

"This one’s mine!" Timothy shouted, signaling before blasting past him.

"Lucien," Hunter hissed, "how bad’s the damage?"

"Minimal," came the calm reply. "You can still overtake. The target’s moving east, three hundred meters."

Hunter smirked beneath the helmet. "Time?"

Lucien’s pause was short as he looked at the countdown. "You can still get the last one."

Hunter revved harder. "Then let’s finish this."

"Well, well, look at that, folks! Both prey are chasing down the same predator! Let’s see who snatches the final catch. But the road ahead is rocky. Can they pull through, or will their bikes give out before they even reach the finish?" the commenter said

The audience leaned forward, breath held.

Dust. Heat. The world blurred.

Timothy could barely see. The road was uneven, rocks flying beneath the tires.

He noticed Hunter, still pushing forward, unflinching, cutting through the storm.

"Fuck this," Timothy muttered, forcing his bike faster.

But then, rattling. A hiss.

"Don’t you dare," he said through clenched teeth.

The engine coughed, sputtered, and then, silence. His bike died mid-race.

"NO!" he yelled, slamming a fist against the tank.

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Mason turned sharply toward the screen. "Lucien, stop him! Hunter’s still on that track, he could crash!"

Lucien’s voice stayed even. "Ten percent damage to the bike. Keep driving ahead."

Mason gawked. "You’re insane—he could get killed!"

Lucien didn’t respond. His eyes were locked on the monitor, pulse steady, expression unreadable.

Hunter continued to race, Every part of the bike vibrated. The controls jerked, the sound deafening.

"Lucien?"

"Forty-five percent damage," came the voice. "Keep driving."

Hunter gritted his teeth. "Copy."

He tightened his grip and leaned lower, feeling the vibration climb into his bones.

"Looks like Prey Timothy’s bike gave out! But Hunter—oh, look at that—he’s still going! Will he catch the last predator, or will his machine die before he reaches him?" the commenter said

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"Sixty-five percent damage," Lucien murmured. Mason was pacing behind him.

"You’re trying to kill him," Mason said under his breath.

Lucien didn’t flinch. His thumb hovered over the control pad, eyes sharp on the last glowing blip.

"One minute left," the intercom counted down.

Ethan, somewhere in the pit, stood motionless, helmet off, sweat dripping down his temple. His gaze flicked to Lucien’s camera feed on the monitor.

"Lucien," he whispered to himself. "What are you thinking?"

Lucien didn’t blink. "Eighty percent damage," he said calmly into the mic. "Keep driving."

The Countdown

The audience was on their feet. The commentator’s voice rose above the storm.

"Ten... nine... eight..."

Hunter’s bike screamed. The predator ahead looked back, too late.

"...seven, six, five..."

Hunter leaned in, one hand shooting out.

"...four, three, two..."

Lucien stood suddenly, voice sharp, alive for the first time—

"NOW!"

Hunter slammed the throttle, sparks flying as he made contact.

The final red light flashed on the screen.

"Player 200 eliminated."

Then the intercom boomed—

"Prey Hunter – all targets complete."

The crowd erupted.

Lucien exhaled for the first time in minutes, his hand trembling slightly against the tablet. Mason stared, speechless.

Ethan stood still, the sound fading into a hum around him.

Somewhere inside, buried under pride and resentment, he whispered,

"Nice one, Lucien."

The score appeared , last place : Timothy Gray