40 Tony Toretto
Noah’s grin widened as he muttered, “Time to put this beauty to the test,” and he revved the engine of the Lykan HyperSport. The sound roared through the car, a deep, thrilling vibration that sent shivers up his spine. With a flick of his wrist, he shifted gears and pressed down on the accelerator.
The Lykan shot forward, effortlessly reaching the national speed limit. On the highway, it was like he was moving through a time warp—one moment, cars were beside him, the next, they were tiny specs in his rearview mirror.
As he zoomed past a family sedan, the driver leaned out to get a better look, his jaw-dropping. “What the hell was that?!” the man exclaimed as the silver blur of Noah’s car disappeared from view.
Another driver, a guy with his cap turned backwards and blasting music from his open windows, caught sight of the Lykan streaking ahead.
“Yo, was that Tony Toretto?!” he joked, referencing Fast & Fury, laughing at his own joke before realizing the car had already vanished.
Noah smirked, hearing the engine hum contentedly as the highway stretched out ahead of him. It was like the Lykan was made for this—effortless speed, with the kind of control most people could only dream of. The combination of power and precision made him feel like he was flying.
An hour later, Noah arrived at the spot, the GPS guiding him to the coordinates Jackson had sent. As he slowed down and entered the area, his eyes widened slightly in surprise. This wasn’t the usual amateur setup—this was high-end, the real deal.
He saw rows of cars—Lamborghini, Pagani, McLaren, and more. This was an elite group of racers, and judging by the lineup of machines, the stakes were much higher than the last race. The Porsche 911 that had once been the top dog at the previous race was nowhere near the level of the competition here.
Noah took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline kick in. He knew the Lykan would hold its own, but this wasn’t just about the car—it was about proving himself again. As he approached the parking area, every set of eyes was on him. People watched in awe, first at the car, then at the driver behind the wheel.
A Lykan HyperSport—a car of which only 7 were made in the world. Its price tag alone—$3.4 million—was enough to turn heads, but not just anyone could own it. This was a car for someone with both wealth and status.
Noah smirked as he lined up the car for a perfect parallel parking drift. He pulled the handbrake, and the Lykan slid smoothly into the spot with pinpoint precision. The tyres screeched as they hit the pavement, stopping dead in place exactly where Noah intended. A perfect parking job.
Gasps echoed through the crowd. They had already been staring at the Lykan, mesmerized by its rarity, but the way Noah handled the car? That was on another level. It wasn’t just about owning the car; it was about knowing how to drive it.
“Who the hell is this guy?” someone in the crowd whispered.
Another voice chimed in, “No clue, but you don’t pull off a drift like that unless you’re either insane or a professional.”
Noah stepped out of the car, the door swinging upward in its trademark suicide style. His presence, combined with the Lykan, exuded confidence.
The whispers grew louder. He had that effortless charm, and with the [Basic Idol] skill from his system, he radiated charisma that made people stop and stare.
Jackson, who had been standing in the crowd, finally snapped out of his daze and hurried over to him, eyes wide in disbelief. “Noah, bro, I had no idea you had a Lykan HyperSport! What happened to your Lambo?”
Noah shrugged casually like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s in the garage somewhere.”
Jackson’s mouth twitched at the nonchalant response. “Somewhere?” As if the Lamborghini was just a pair of shoes he tossed in the closet.
“In the garage somewhere,” Jackson muttered to himself, shaking his head. “Man, the way you say that… like you just left it out with the trash or something.”
Noah laughed. “Nah, not the trash. It’s just, you know, not always the right tool for the job.”
Jackson let out a low whistle, still shaking his head. “Man, I need to hang around you more. I don’t know what’s crazier—the fact that you have a Lykan or that you just shrug it off like it’s no big deal.”
Before Noah could respond, Jackson gestured for someone behind him to come over. “Oh, by the way, I want you to meet my friend. He’s training to become an F1 driver.”
A young man with a sharp look in his eye and a confident stride approached. He had the lean build of someone used to being in a cockpit and the focused expression of a racer. His excitement was barely contained as he extended his hand toward Noah.
“Noah, this is Max. He’s been hearing about your driving ever since that last race we had, and, well, he couldn’t believe it until he saw the videos. We thought we’d reach out to see if you were up for a little race with him. You know, widen his horizons.”
Max nodded eagerly. “I’ve been training hard, but man, watching those clips of you… you’ve got a gift, Noah. I’d be honoured to race with you. And hey, we’ve even got a little challenge going—$100,000 on the line. What do you say?”
Noah raised an eyebrow, pretending to think it over, though the system had already nudged him toward the choice. “Sounds like fun,” he said coolly, shaking Max’s hand.
Max grinned, clearly excited. “Awesome. Let’s see if I can learn a thing or two.” He turned to Jackson and laughed. “Man, you didn’t tell me he had a Lykan HyperSport! You weren’t kidding when you said he was next-level.”
Noah smirked. “Well, let’s see if I can live up to the hype.”
