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Black Dawn

Episode #1:

?Those Who Do Not Fear The Night...?

?This is my mountain!? -Takeshi Nakazato

-Loveland Pass;

Just after Midnight...

It was pitch dark on a moonless night. Having a run on the local mountain pass wasn?t the greatest idea under those circumstances, but Jon Roseman couldn?t find the ability to care. He was motivated to learn every detail of Loveland Pass before he and his two best friends, Jarod and Kim, made their presence known to the local racing teams. The Three Street racers that had gone from ordinary teenagers (maybe even a little on the outcast side), to godhood among their peers in their hometown of Oakhurst, CA, had finally settled into their new surroundings, and were just about ready to take on the competition.

The tuned 1.8 liter Honda motor ran at full tilt, pushing the car it powered faster and faster down the hill. Jon threw the shifter into sixth gear when the tach needle pushed past the redline, and the car continued to gain speed. He skillfully guided the car into a corner, braking solidly with the clutch in before entering, then moving his right foot over to put the accelerator down just enough to hold the RPMs up. He turned in hard at the corner?s entrance, then began closing to the inside as the apex approached. Right at the moment he reached the apex of the turn, Jon?s left foot came off the clutch, and his right went down hard on the accelerator. He manhandled the car out of the corner, and went charging like a bull down the next straightaway.

His car was an unlikely competitor. It was an EE5; a 1990 Civic Wagon AWD, with a six-speed gearbox. Many street racers have no idea of this car?s potential. It took to modifications incredibly well, had an already lightweight body, and had a very good natural airflow that promoted lots of stability and downforce without use of any aftermarket wings, valences, or skirts (doubly good, as there was no functional aftermarket aero parts for this car.). Average drivers and most racers thought nothing of the little, blue Honda. The only indications as to what this car was mainly used for were the lowered stance (the result of about three-thousand dollars in suspension mods...), auxiliary lights on the front end (a must for mountain racers...), black RS Watanabe 6-spoke 16-inch racing wheels, Kumho Ecsta Z-rated tires, and an HKS Hiper catback exhaust.

A look under the hood would reveal a highly-tuned, rev-happy B18C1. Formerly a somewhat mortal 4-cylinder, DOHC engine with variable valve timing from an Acura Integra GS-R, until it met Jon Roseman. He twisted its soul into the fire-breathing, 300 hp monster it is today. Great care was taken to fit the old 6-speed trans that the EE5 was given by its creators at the Honda plant in Illinois to the new motor, and just as much attention to detail was paid while squeezing the motor itself into its new home. Not an easy task by any means, as there were lots of little things to relocate, or get rid of altogether in order to make it fit. More impressive, still, is the fact that this was done at a time when swapping any motor that was not a Chevy 350 Small Block into a car was considered pointless, and therefore, just being pioneered. Engine Management Systems were limited in availability, and imperfect at best.

The car was updated piece by piece as technology advanced, and now the car was at its limit. There was nothing left to do to it that would not require a complete re-engineering of the motor, and extensive chassis augmentation. In fact, it was very likely that this would prove to be one of its last runs as a street racing machine. It had promise as an amateur rally car after thousands more were spent on it, but Jon was looking for something else right now. Every second of every race, or practice drive was spent searching. And right now... he did not yet know what he was searching for. All he could do was take the wheel, and keep grasping in the dark for whatever it was he was missing.

The light was still on in the garage when Jon came back to the house he, and his two friends owned. It was 3:30 AM, and Jarod was probably still hard at work on that car. Jon brought his EE5 to a stop in its place in the driveway; right between the two blue Nissan cars. An S13 Silvia Turbo, and a KPB12 Sentra SE hatchback. The motor eagerly idled down, and Jon let it run for a few seconds before turning the key to shut it off.

Slowly, he emerged from his car, and stuck his hand straight out. He held the remote that opened the garage door, and pressed the button on it, patiently waiting for the door to open all the way before he moved another muscle. Jon dropped the remote onto the seat of his Civic, and shut the door. Then, he slowly ambled toward the open garage door.

The inside of the garage glowed in an almost divine way. Fluorescent lights glowed from all four walls and the ceiling, bathing everything in a warm, white radiance. It was a sight most people would not fully appreciate. But, a car guy would see something close to what the gateway to Heaven must look like.

At the center of this magnificence, was something of even more beauty. It was one example of only 1500 of its kind... a rare, and prestigious car aside from being the absolute incarnation of a what it means to be a true sports car. This was the 1988 RX-7 TurboII 10th Anniversary Edition (also called a 10AE by enthusiasts); the second rarest, and single most sought-after trim model of the American Market FC3S. Each of the 1500 examples of this car were painted a unique, pure white color that had a faint trace of a blue pigmentation, giving the car an eerie effect in most lights that caused it to look as though it were perpetually surrounded by a thin, blue mist. The exterior trim was painted to body-color in lieu of the former pattern of black trim on every color. Also, they all had a faint gold tint to the glass, and a blue-colored interior. Lastly, the rotor-shaped badges on the front quarter-panels, which, by themselves are enough to make any rotary-fan stop in his tracks at first sight.

The RX-7?s hood was up, and there were tools, and empty bottles of Guinness strewn about. The all-too-familiar sound of a ratchet clicking as it was twisted backwards could be heard clear as daylight.

?Jarod? You still at it, eh?? Jon called out to his friend.

?I don?t have anything better to do. My crew is going to do the finish work by themselves tomorrow. Those trained monkeys don?t need me holding their hands while they friggin? grout a kitchen and a couple bathrooms.? Jarod Wynde replied, peering around the open hood to address his childhood best friend. His slight Rhode Island accent inherited from his father showing through.

?So. How much progress have you made?? Jon asked a probing question, walking over to a small refrigerator next to a beat-up old couch near the door leading into the house.

He opened the ?fridge, and pulled out a bottle of his own preferred brand of beer, which was Sam Adams, while Jarod finished trying to tighten a hard-to-reach bolt. After the grunting/swearing noise stopped, Jarod turned his head to answer.

?Well... I already told you, it?s in the finish stage. Just the grouting and clean-up left.? Jarod replied.

?No, dumbass... the car. How much have you done to the FC.? Jon corrected his oblivious friend.

?Oh. Well... I should have had her running by now. The IDA throttle body is on, and I ran the new harness from my Haltech to all the little electrical things all over the car. Just a few more bolts and stuff. I?ll take a nap in a little while, and drive this car out of the garage before lunchtime.? Jarod droned on, sounding as though he hadn?t slept in a week.

?How long have you been out here for?? Jon inquired.

?Good question. Feels like its been a couple days since I left the garage.? Jarod removed one of his oil-covered mechanic gloves to scratch his head.

After a pause, Jarod went back to work on the car. Jon, however, eased himself onto the couch, and sipped away, leisurely, at his beer as though it were some fine, expensive wine.

?I?ve pretty much got the road down. I can?t wait to see how good the locals are. If they run that pass half as much as I figure they do, we?re about to have a bunch of challenging races unfold.? Jon announced.

?That last hairpin has a weird apex. I don?t like it. Plus it leads into a long straightaway. Anyone with a high-powered AWD machine like a 3000GT, a WRX, or even a Typhoon can just hang back in the corners, and jam out after that last turn.? Jarod voiced his complaints.

?Not if you follow racing lines like I keep trying to tell you to. I honestly don?t know how your dad managed to convince you that drift is the be-all-end-all of driving techniques, but it?s way slow, and too unpredictable. Follow a perfect racing line on that last hairpin, and block your opponent's path until the finish line. That?s all you need do to dominate that road.? Jon lectured.

?Hey. My drifting is plenty fast enough. How can you tell me that a driving method that effectively lengthens every straightaway can possibly be slower than normal grip driving? When you drift, you enter the corner faster, and wait longer to brake. During the apex, your nose is already pointed down the straightaway, and all you need to do is hit the gas, and charge down once you slide into place. Grip uses solid braking, and delicate line control, swinging to the outside at the exit. You have less time at top speed, and you drive a longer distance, in effect, by using a racing line. Drift can?t be slower.? Jarod argued.

?You also burn off a hell of a lot more speed during the corner, so it evens out over a little bit of time, and ends up slower in the end. Until you come to terms with this, and stop putting on your ego-tripping drift shows, you?re never going to be at your best, and you?ll never unlock the full potential of this car. Trust me on that one.? Jon said.

?You say that... but you?re wrong.? Jarod fumed irritation.

?Oh, really? Then you should be able to hand me my ass easily.? Jon replied with a wry grin.

?That?s not fair, dude. You?re a freakin god for fuck?s sake.? Jarod?s reply came through a very shocked expression.

A quick, loud laugh shot forth from Jon. From his point of view, seeing Jarod so flustered at being partially disproved was actually quite amusing. It had been this way since they were children, and showed no signs of changing any time soon.

?Anyways... I figured we?d go ahead and show ourselves to the locals tomorrow night. It?s about time we did so.? Jon suggested.

?We should have done that the day we arrived. People need to be shown who?s in charge right away. I feel like we?ve just been hiding from them.? Jarod commented.

?You have to always overreact with everything. It?s not cowardice to learn the details of the roads before you start racing down them... it?s called being smart.? Jon corrected.

Jarod paused for a moment, staring at the 1.3 liter turbocharged rotary engine that lay dormant before him.

?Jon... dude. Can you get that battery over there for me?? Jarod asked, pointing toward the corner of the garage, where a battery sat, still hooked to a battery charger.

?Of course I will.? Jon replied, standing up, and striding over.

He unhooked the charger, and lifted the battery with both hands. Slowly and carefully, Jon walked back to the car, and set the battery in it?s place within the engine bay of the FC. As soon as the battery was in place, Jarod picked up the cables, and connected them. Ground wire first, then the positive, and he secured them both by twisting the bolts on the terminals tight with an open-end wrench.

Jarod dropped the wrench, and picked up a small ?flathead? screwdriver, which he used to adjust the throttle arm on the IDA. He paused again, staring at his engine. Before he stepped away, he ran his left index finger along the mouth of one of the blue anodized aluminum velocity stacks jutting out of the top of the IDA.

?What now?? Jon asked.

?This.? Jarod removed a set of keys from his pocket, and delicately took hold of a gold-colored one with a gleaming 24kt. gold emblem on top.

He held the key by the blade, and stared at the design. ?10th? surrounded by a laurel. It was the dream of many FC enthusiasts to hold a key like this one. Jarod?s possession of this particular key came with a heavy price... the life of his older brother, Danny. This car had belonged to Danny, who had died during his last race.

The car was a mess when it was passed to Jarod... dented panels, mangled hood, broken suspension parts, a shattered windshield, hatch glass and side windows, and bloodstains on the interior fabric. Jarod restored the car to mint condition two years after the accident. He cleaned up everything, and replaced the motor. Now, he was continuing his brother?s work by making this car faster than it ever was.

Jarod reflected a little on how far this car has come from the day it first came under his ownership. Then, he opened the door, sat down in the driver?s seat, and turned the key. The Walbro racing fuel pump hummed as it fed fuel to the injectors, which pulsed open as the starter engaged, twisting the eccentric shaft, and spinning the rotors. The leading and trailing spark plugs fired in sequence, and the engine flared to life with a loud, angry whirring noise that was unique to the rotary.

The engine settled to a smooth idle, and stayed at about 2000 RPM. Not exactly where it should be, but it was not a problem at all. Jarod and Jon both listened to the sound of the motor with blissful expressions. They looked like music connoisseurs in a symphony hall listening to a skilled pianist play a Chopin piece.

Jarod lowered his foot, and put the throttle down just a little. The throttle body blades opened, feeding air, and tripping the TPS, which sent a signal to the ECU, and in turn, gave an order to the fuel injectors to dump a little more fuel into the intake. The engine spun faster, and the dull hum it made grew a little louder. Jarod?s eyes watched the tach needle jump up to around 4K, where he left it for a minute, then backed off. After the car had idled for a while, he shut the engine down.

?Now, it just needs to start again tomorrow. Then, I?ll be happy.? Jarod said before leaving the garage to enter the house. ?By the way... do we have an actual team name yet??

?We?ll just use the name of our parents? old team. I like the sound of it.?

-the next night... back on Loveland Pass...

The three blue cars ran single file down the road to a parking lot at the base of the hill. There were already several cars gathered while their drivers talked amongst one another. Jon, Jarod, and Kim pulled in while the local racers looked on in awe as the newcomers approached.

?Who?re they?? One racer asked his peers.

?No clue, dude... never seen them before. Don?t mind it though... they don?t look important to us. Just an ancient Civic Wagon, and an even older Sentra.? Another replied.

?Isn?t that an S13 Silvia, though?? Still another added.

?You?re seeing things, man. Why would a JDM Silvia be hanging with those shitwagons??

?No... he?s right... that?s a Silvia Turbo.?

The three cars came to a stop, and The Three Street Racers showed themselves to other racers on Loveland Pass for the first time. Jarod stepped ahead to speak for the three after Jon quietly gave him one final direction.

?Well... isn?t this a nice little gathering? We?re new in town, and were wondering who used to be the fastest on this little hill. I?m Jarod Wynde, this is my sister, Kim, and that guy over there is Jon Roseman. We?re Black Dawn... and we?re the new fastest team here. We?ll prove it to whoever wants to doubt us.? Jarod announced.

Whispers, and a lot of outright laughs erupted from the crowd.

?Are you high? This is the Rocket Dancers? turf. You?re gonna have to go through Shauna and Vanessa if you want this mountain. And, with cars like those... you don?t stand a chance!? The first racer spoke up.

?Put up, then if you don?t think we have what it takes. I?ll show any of you what a superior driver can do to cocky punks like you behind the wheel.? Jon retorted.

The whispers were hushed instantly.

?Look... maybe you?re a real tough guy back in whatever hole you just crawled out of... but out here, an EE5 will get eaten alive. Against cars like Integra GS-R?s, FD?s, S2000?s, and an R32 Skyline GT-R, you?re totally outclassed! The only one out of all of you that stands a chance is the girl with the S13.?

?Race one of us, and you?ll see that your words are just the ramblings of an ignorant poser that knows nothing about the true nature of mountain racing.? Kim said.

?Alright... I?ll take that challenge! Let?s head to the top of the hill, and see who?s boss! My S14 and I have something to say that you?ll never forget.? That first racer persisted. ?My name is Jake Turner, and I lead a local team called the Night Hawks.?

?Well, then... you?ll be the first conquest in our invasion of this mountain. you?re running me, and I?m this team?s leader as well... I will not let them down.? Jon lowered his gaze, and spoke with authority.

After preparations were made to start the race, the two combatants lined up. All along the downhill run, the others that had gathered at the base of the hill were parked in the turn-offs, and standing outside in anticipation. At every turn-off, someone had a radio. The base of the hill was road-blocked, as was the summit. Nobody played games out here. This was life-or-death... and everyone involved knew it.

Jarod stood between the two cars, speaking with Jon. The Night Hawks had offered a courtesy to Black Dawn, and allowed someone from the challenging team to start the race.

?It?s in the bag, man. A 240SX is the hugest pile of garbage in the world with the stock motor in place. Especially an S14. The KA24DE just isn?t the right kind of engine for a sports car.? Jarod preached as he put a black cigarette into his mouth, and lit it with a dark-colored Zippo lighter.

The sweet smell of burning clove filled the air, and Jarod inhaled the smoke deeply. Jon raised an eyebrow, wordlessly mocking Jarod for the umpteenth time over his choice of ?smoke.

?Normally, you?re absolutely right. But, a simple change of cam profiles can make up for a lot when it comes to overall engine dynamics. Look at VTEC engines. If he has racing cams in that KA, then we?re dealing with a whole different car.? Jon replied, continuing the conversation as though it had never broken.

?No amount of tuning can make up for skill and experience, though. That?s where our advantage comes in. We?re older than these kids... we?ve been doing this since they were in grade school.? Jarod spoke with a noticeable dose of haughtiness.

?Right. I mean... the oldest-looking one can?t be more than, what? 19.? Kim added.

?Don?t underestimate anyone. I told you guys that. Our dads told us that. Hell... even Danny pushed that point all the time.? Jon warned the other two.

?Whatever... I still think that Jake guy is a chump. Anyways... what was that about an R32?? Jarod changed the subject.

?I hope he was lying. That?s bad news if he?s for real.? Kim replied to her brother.

?You newbies ready yet?? Jake called out.

?Let?s do it.? Jon?s reply came quickly, showing no hint of anticipation whatsoever.

Jon got into his EE5, and started the motor. Jarod rushed out to the starting line, and pointed at both drivers, who began revving in reply. As always, the countdown started at five, and ended with the starter shouting ?GO!? at the very top of his lungs like a primal warcry.

The two cars took off, peeling tires for several yards. Jon?s AWD system gave him a decided edge off the line, leaving Jake to struggle in playing catch-up.

?What in the hell was that? How could an ancient EE5 get the jump on me like that? Damn!? Jake internally scolded himself.

The first part of the race course was a long series of shallow chicanes; one leading directly into the next until a moderate straightaway. The chicanes cut along the side of the mountain, and sat at a fairly stable downslope. However, once the first straightaway hit, Loveland Pass?s famous sharp elevation drop began. Precise braking, quick throttle response, and deft steering were required in order to keep a fast line down the hill. Jon knew this, and counted on his opponent knowing even better. So, he carefully chose a line, and stayed on it. Thus, sealing Jake out of the choice line, and forcing him to follow.

Jon Roseman had no weak points. And, this was his chance to prove it to a whole new crowd.

?I can hold this pace all day, and there isn?t a damn thing you can do about it. You?re about to lose.? Jon thought as he set an easy pace. He could go faster... if he wanted to. But, he?d wait.

Cutting the outside late after the apex, and closing in on the setup for the next turn again, and again. Jon had succeeded in blocking out the S14?s line entering the turns, forcing him to take a slower path through, then cutting off any hopes of charging ahead into the next bend. Finally, an end was in sight... the straightaway. Long enough for Jake to put some distance between himself and the EE5, entering the first hairpin a little slower than he?d like to, but still giving an opportunity to give the rat bastard newcomer a taste of his own venom.

But, he would never have the chance. In a flash of optical illusions that made the EE5 look as though streaks of its blue-silver body, and red taillamp light trailed off behind it, the AWD Honda wagon left at an other-worldly pace.

Jon put his foot down on the clutch pedal, and mashed the brakes for just a moment, then released, let the car coast until the revs dropped to 3K, and downshifted to 5th. The car shuddered back for a moment as it suddenly caught traction, and Jon?s foot went down on the accelerator to drive the car hard out of the corner.

His acceleration force through the apex started him towards the outside of the curve. Once the car began to mildly understeer, Jon?s hand went from the shift knob to the handbrake after he let off the gas. The lever made a quick zipping noise as he yanked it upwards hard, throwing the tail end of the car out. Once it began sliding, Jon went back down on the accelerator, carrying him through the rest of the turn.

At this point, it was all but over. Each straightaway gained Jon more ground, and the next two turns took his opponent completely out of sight in his rearview. Nothing could be done.

-The bottom of Loveland Pass...

After a while, the whole gathering had moved to the ?park and ride? at the base of the hill. Jon and Jake were talking post-race smack to one another while the others watched in amusement.

?I think we?re just about done here. Tell these ?Rocket Dancers? you talked about before that the time for war has come... and this mountain will be the newest conquest for Black Dawn. I?ve proven my point. If you want another run with me, you?d better practice. I won?t stand to see a fellow racer shame himself by losing the way you did tonight.? Jon spoke harshly, and without remorse.

?Oh, they?ll hear about you all right. I just want to be there to see that confidence of yours fall apart when you lose to our local superstars. I?ll be counting down the days.? Jake said, then gathered his crew to leave for the night.

By morning, the name ?Black Dawn? was on the lips of everyone in the automotive scene in the area. Talk of the arrogant, and mysterious new racers spread quick like wildfire. Everyone involved was gearing up for an exciting spring season. Nobody at this point could have even dreamed of what the reality would end up as. But, for now... it?s all just an arbitrary conversation between the group of college-age kids in the corner booth of that cafe.

 

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