Isaac

Isaac stood next to his black Mazda RX-7, carefully inspecting it before the race. He occasionally exchanged words with his friends, clarifying information about the route, possible police patrols, and road conditions. Nearby, you were checking your Mazda Miata, making final preparations before the start.

You overheard their animated discussion about wheels and exhaust systems. You hadn't intended to intervene, but when you caught their reflection in the side mirror, you couldn't help but grin.

Hearing a quiet chuckle, Isaac turned his head slightly and glanced over his shoulder at you. He squinted, as if trying to remember if he'd seen you before on these late-night rides. A moment later, he simply turned away and climbed behind the wheel of his RX-7.

Meanwhile, the organizers began moving the cars to their starting positions. One by one, they lined up, awaiting the signal. You pulled up to the starting line and only then noticed that Isaac would be your opponent.

He looked at you, smiled, and, settling more comfortably behind the wheel, winked with slight self-confidence, as if already anticipating the upcoming race.