Novel & Cerita Mach 6 Speed Racer The Next Generation

But the simpler it looked, the more extraordinary it was. "This is the most advanced fighter our clan has ever built. I call it Ghostler. And I can say with confidence that it's the fastest stealth aircraft in the world. Pushed to its absolute limit, with no concern for damage, it can hit Mach 15. That's 15 times the speed of sound." Gideon nodded, impressed. "Now that's badass!" Mach 15 speed—it was unreal. Faster than lightning, moving like a ghost, everywhere and nowhere at once.

I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text. “Hey, I am leaving now. Can you pick me up at the usual?” “Yeah baby, I can’t wait to see your fine ass.” Drake replied to my message. I walked out of the packhouse and got into my little red sports car. I drove about thirty minutes until I came up to the usual park and ride where I leave my car to get on Drake's bike. I see him standing near his black ZX -6 Ninja. It has 125 horsepower and a top speed of 160mph. It’s a damn sexy bike. I love watching him in the street races. He has yet to be beaten. I want a crotch rocket too. Daddy threatened every local bike dealer around. They all say I can’t handle that much speed, just because I am a female.

I said, moving to the bike specifications section. This was where it got tricky. I couldn't just make up motorcycle specs - anyone who knew bikes would spot fake information immediately. I thought back to the afternoons I'd spent in Papa's garage, listening to him talk about engine sizes and modifications even though he'd never let me touch anything. Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6R, I typed, remembering the specifications of one of the bikes Papa had worked on. 636cc, modified exhaust, performance air filter. Racing experience was easier to fake. "Three years amateur circuit racing" sounded believable without being too impressive.

And a few seconds later im crossing the finish line, first, like every other time. ***_*** Five races later I'm still the champ. Sitting on the sidelines watching my competitions last race. I've been hearing that he has won all five his races and if he wins this one he'll be racing me next for the title. On que, the line up starts, there's four cars but one stands out and I'm betting that it is in fact his, got to give it to him though he has a eye for cars, it's a red dodge Challenger SRT Demon. A maximum of 840 horsepower but the demons 0 to 60 and quarter mile times are even more staggering.

Why else would the penalty be “a mutt of a driver?” Javier instantly agreed. “Sure. If you want to shake you *ss so badly, let’s do it.” It was just throwing away some money. A game he had played during his childhood. He thought that it would be a good way to reminisce about his childhood fun. Two cars—a Mercedes-Benz G63 and a Mustang 5.0T—zoomed toward the real estate agency with their engines roaring. They competed against each other to be in the lead. Javier was leading far ahead with his 2.6 ton 4.0T Mercedes-Benz G63 using his brilliant driving skills.

Seeing the two just starting off but already with such a big difference, Jeann anxiously stamped her feet and exclaimed, "Oh my God, can Frederick win?" Jordan, with a gloating expression, said, "Tyger's BMW motorcycle can hit 120 miles per hour with just a twist of the throttle. "Frederick's old electric scooter can only go up to 60 miles per hour, which is half as fast as Tyger. How could he possibly beat Tyger!" Jean didn't know much about motorcycles, but she knew that Jordan was very knowledgeable about them. She realized that what he said must be valid, and this made her nervous.

Speed never lied. At three hundred miles an hour, the world peeled away everything unnecessary. There was no room for pretense or sweet-talking, no time for betrayal or half-truths. Excuses had no traction at these speeds; the machine demanded everything, and if you hesitated, it would chew you up and spit you out as just another cautionary tale whispered in the garages of the elite.

His eyes flick to mine. “Fast enough to hurt your feelings.” Adriano curses in Italian and walks to another bike. His hand settles on a black and silver monster. “The BMW M 1000 RR,” he says flatly. His eyes lock on mine. “205 horsepower. Built for racing. Aerodynamic winglets. Brutal acceleration.” His voice drops. “You can still back out.” I smile. They are trying to intimidate me with specs and technical jargon. “I won’t. This beautiful lady tells me she will look even better with a Victory ribbon and I believe her” I say stroking a finger in reverence over the leather seat of the MTT.

Due to the unexpected events, the race schedule was delayed by two months. During that time, I built an even superior car. Thinking back to everything Jasper had done before, I laughed and uploaded all the previous car’s data online without holding back. Those with time and money could naturally follow my guides to build top‑tier racing machines. Occasionally, I even held giveaways and sent out cars that I had personally built. Just like that, two months passed. The organizer begged me for the full two months. “If you don’t participate, we’ll keep delaying the event until you’re ready!”

I knew just how to fix both their asses though. "Thanks Grimaldi that's very nice of you now can we get back to work?" "Sure, I just came by to give Katarina her little gift. I know how she loves speed so when I saw this little beauty I knew she had to have it. It's the only one like it in the states I think there's only a handful in existence. It goes from zero to sixty in two point four seconds."