The Speed Of The Stars

The following morning dawned with a crisp chill in the air as the team busied themselves in the makeshift garage. Repairs on the Lancia were progressing well. The gearbox had already been replaced, and the left-side suspension was now being reinstalled using spare parts. The car sat elevated on jack stands, all four wheels suspended off the ground. Its rear damaged hatch was propped open like a battle wound being tended to. Navia focused intently on the left suspension, her grease-streaked hands deftly maneuvering tools, while Clorinde worked on the right suspension, meticulously inspecting the components to ensure everything was in order.

The mechanical symphony was interrupted by the rumble of an approaching vehicle. One of the four support vans rolled into view, its engine cutting off as Keqing and Collei's mechanic, Albedo, stepped out. The pair exchanged a quick word before making their way toward the Lancia.

Clorinde and Navia paused, their focus shifting to the newcomers. Albedo raised a hand in greeting, his expression amiable as always. Keqing followed with a nod.

"Hey, guys. Need a hand?" Albedo called out.

Keqing offered a small smile. "Yeah, anything to help lighten the load?"

Navia stood, brushing stray strands of hair from her face with an oily hand. "Actually, we could use some help. We didn't bring a spare rear engine trunk lid. Can you help us remove the damaged one and tape it back together for now?"

Clorinde stepped forward, wiping her dirty hands with a rag. "Yeah, duct tape should hold it together. We'll order a replacement once we're done here."

Keqing arched an eyebrow, skepticism evident in her tone. "But where exactly can you order parts for something like this? It's not like you can call up Lancia. They don't even rally anymore."

Clorinde chuckled, her tone light but confident. "Don't worry. These days, there are specialized suppliers. One of them, Group B Replacements and Spares, is certified by the FIA to provide parts for Group B rally cars. They've got exactly what we need—a rear engine trunk lid for this model. We already placed an order a couple of hours ago."

Navia nodded in agreement. "Yeah, they're great. They have the original moldings for the 037's parts—both for the rally car and the homologated street version. The best part? They even build the engines from scratch, using the original specifications for almost all Group B rally cars."

As Keqing and Albedo began working on removing the damaged rear trunk lid, a distinct engine growl cut through the morning air. The unmistakable sound of individual throttle bodies echoed off the mountainside. Right on cue, Collei's AE86 emerged from a nearby hairpin, its headlights slicing through the shadows as the car rolled smoothly toward the garage.

Clorinde's eyes widened. "She's still awake?"

The AE86 came to a halt behind the support van, and Collei stepped out, leaving the engine idling. She approached the group with an easy wave.

"Hey, guys. Thought I'd drop by and check if you need any help," Collei offered, her tone cheerful despite the dark circles under her eyes.

Clorinde smiled but shook her head. "Thanks for stopping by, but you should be getting some rest. We've got a race tonight, remember?"

Collei waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about me. I'm used to this."

Clorinde touched her chin thoughtfully. "Actually, we could use your help. Can you pick up Ganyu from the local town? She went out to grab food for all of us."

Collei nodded without hesitation. "Sure thing."

She spun on her heel and returned to her AE86, driving off at a casual pace. With her departure, the group returned to the task at hand. Keqing and Albedo successfully removed the rear trunk lid, and the sound of duct tape tearing filled the air as they began patching the damaged parts together.

As they worked, Keqing glanced at Navia. "So, with the suspension being replaced, what happens to the alignment?"

Navia adjusted her hair, her tone reassuring. "The alignment should be fine. We didn't touch the old suspension setup. Once Clorinde takes it out for a test run, we'll make any adjustments if needed."

Keqing sighed and picked up one of the damaged suspension components from the van's floor. "So these parts—brand-new and already busted?"

Navia gave a wry smile. "Yep. Fresh from Bilstein. We've got replacements lined up for the next expedition. We know exactly what went wrong with these."

Keqing placed the parts back down with a shake of her head. "No kidding."

By the time the clock struck 4:00 PM, the Lancia was fully repaired. The suspension was restored, and the gearbox in place. The rear engine hatch, though still visibly damaged, was temporarily secured with a network of duct tape.

Clorinde climbed into the driver's seat, the familiar feel of the wheel beneath her hands igniting a spark in her eyes. She turned the key, and the Lancia roared to life. Raising a fist triumphantly, she shouted, "She's alive!"

Almost as if on cue, Collei returned, this time accompanied by Ganyu and Ningguang. The three stepped out of the vehicle and approached the Lancia, their expressions reflecting both admiration and relief.

Ningguang smiled approvingly. "Nice work, team. The Lancia lives to tell another tale."

Clorinde nodded, her voice tinged with pride. "Yep. She's had her fair share of accidents, but nothing as major as this."

"Agreed," Ningguang said. "Clorinde, give her a shakedown run. Take it easy at first, but once you're comfortable, unleash everything you've got."

Clorinde's grip tightened on the wheel. "Got it."

With a firm slam, she shut the door and secured her harness. Her eyes narrowed, focused and determined. "Let's go."

The Lancia's engine roared as she shifted into first gear. The rear wheels spun furiously, kicking up dust as the car shot forward, tires screeching against the pavement. The Lancia entered the course with a dramatic drift, seamlessly transitioning into the uphill the mountain pass, while bouncing off the redline.

Ganyu stepped forward, watching the car disappear into the first corner. "Whoa. She's not exactly taking it easy, is she?"

Navia chuckled, folding her arms. "That's Clorinde for you. When something pushes her buttons, it only makes her drive harder—and faster."

Ningguang smiled knowingly. "It's more than that. Clorinde and her Lancia are out for vengeance."

Her gaze shifted to the sky. "More like... blood."

On the course, Clorinde reached the first hairpin. She slammed the brakes, initiating a flawless four-wheel drift. The Lancia responded like a dream, gliding through the corner with precision and grace.

Clorinde's grin widened as she patted the steering wheel. "Atta girl! Let's show them you're back!"

She pressed the accelerator to the floor, and the Lancia surged forward, faster with every turn and hairpin. With each challenge, the car responded with a symphony of power and control, as if it were alive and eager to reclaim its glory.

As time flew by, the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of amber and violet. Clorinde finally arrived at the parking lot near the tunnel, the Lancia humming contentedly as it came to a halt. She opened the door and stepped out, stretching her back with a satisfied groan. The cool evening breeze carried the faint smell of asphalt and oil, mingling with the distant sounds of the mountain pass.

The team—Navia, Collei, Ganyu, Keqing, Albedo, and Ningguang—approached Clorinde, their expressions a mix of curiosity and anticipation. Navia was the first to speak, her arms crossed as she gave a playful smirk.

"So, Clorinde? What's the verdict?"

Clorinde stretched her arms above her head and then smirked, exuding confidence. "It's wonderful. Every action I want it to do—it handles like a champ."

Ningguang nodded approvingly. "That's what I like to hear."

Her gaze shifted to the taped-up rear engine hatch, its makeshift repair standing out against the car's battle-worn frame. "But what are you going to do about the hatch?"

Clorinde waved it off casually. "Don't worry about that. A replacement's already on its way from Italy. Before our next race, she'll be back in perfect condition."

As night settled over the pass, the air grew cooler, and a hush fell over the mountain. The tension of the upcoming race hung heavy. At the designated starting area, Blade stood impatiently beside his Lancer Evo V, his arms crossed. His dark silhouette was illuminated by the flickering glow of a nearby lamp. Kafka lingered in the rest area, leaning casually against a railing as she observed the scene with disinterest.

Blade scoffed loudly, his voice echoing. "Who's going to race me? Come on! Quit wasting my time!"

His taunt was abruptly silenced by the feral roar of a supercharged twin-cam engine reverberating through the tunnel. Blade turned toward the source of the sound, his expression shifting from irritation to confusion. Suddenly, twin headlights flared to life, their brilliance blinding him momentarily. He shielded his eyes as tires screeched violently, the sound piercing the night. When the glow finally dimmed, he lowered his hand—and his jaw dropped.

Behind his Lancer Evo sat Clorinde's Lancia Rally 037, its presence as imposing as ever despite its battle scars. The taped-up rear hatch bore testament to its recent struggles, but its aggressive stance and throaty engine note made it clear: this car was ready to fight. Clorinde stepped out of the driver's seat, slamming the door shut with a flourish. Keqing followed from the passenger side, her stance confident as she adjusted her hair. Clorinde rested a hand on her hip, smirking at Blade.

"Didn't expect us to fix the Lancia so quickly, did you, hotshot?"

Blade narrowed his eyes, his initial shock giving way to suspicion. "No way. This has to be a different car—same model, but completely different underneath."

Keqing stepped forward, her sharp gaze locking onto Blade. "Oh, really? You think we'd show up with a substitute? What, did you expect us to roll up in the Eight Six instead?"

Blade shook his head quickly, his defensive tone betraying his unease. "I didn't say that! I just—"

Keqing cut him off with a scoff. "Relax, Blade. And for the record, the Eight Six isn't just any car. You do know it's been used to train Formula One champions, like Max Verstappen, right?"

She stepped closer, her voice dropping slightly as her smirk grew. "But let's cut the chatter. Here's the deal—you've got two choices. Race the bruised Lancia tonight, or we postpone. That gives us time to refine it even further. Keep in mind, we repaired it with minimal changes to its setup. The way I see it, you're still at an advantage."

Blade clenched his fists, exhaling sharply through his nose. "Give me a second. I need to talk to Kafka."

As Blade stalked off to consult Kafka, Keqing turned and walked back toward Ningguang, who was leaning gracefully against Collei's AE86. The older woman's expression was unreadable, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the car's hood. Keqing mirrored her pose, resting a hand on her hip.

"So," Keqing began, her voice tinged with pride, "what do you think? Gave them a hardline, whether they liked it or not."

Ningguang smirked faintly, her eyes glinting in the dim light. "Nicely done."

Then, unexpectedly, she sighed, her expression darkening. "But something feels... off."

Keqing raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. "Off? How, exactly?"

Ningguang's gaze remained distant as she spoke, her tone deliberate. "It's not about pride or bragging rights. There's something else. Something more... specific. Something financial."

Keqing's eyes widened slightly, a twitch of frustration crossing her face. "Wait. You're saying... it's about money?"

Ningguang nodded slowly, her features calm but firm. "I'm afraid so."

Keqing's frustration boiled over as she stomped her foot, the sharp clack of her heel echoing loudly. "Those assholes! Now we have to pin them down!"

Ningguang raised a hand, her gesture smooth and commanding. "Calm down, Keqing. Kafka isn't involved in their scheme. She's made that clear. The only ones behind this are Blade and his cronies."

Keqing's jaw tightened, but she took a deep breath, nodding reluctantly. "Fine. But I'm keeping my eyes on them. If they pull anything during this race..."

Ningguang smiled faintly, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to Keqing's fiery energy. "That's the spirit. Let's see how this unfolds. One way or another, the truth always comes out."

The race was electric with anticipation. As Blade leaned out of his pristine Lancer Evo V, his cocky grin stretched wide, he couldn't resist taunting Clorinde.

"Good luck today, pretty girl," he jeered, his voice oozing mockery. "Hope that bruised Italian relic can hold up for even one run!"

Clorinde paused mid-step, her gaze flickering toward him. But before she could respond, Keqing's firm hand landed on her shoulder.

"Take it easy," Keqing said, her tone calm but commanding. "Show him what this 'Italian relic' can really do... Group B style."

Clorinde smirked at the encouragement and high-fived Keqing. "Right!"

With a confident stride, she climbed into the Lancia, fastening her harness with precision. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes momentarily to center herself. Her hand reached for the key, and with a twist, the 2.1-liter supercharged Lampredi twin-cam four-cylinder engine roared to life. The guttural rumble filled the parking area, turning heads as the sound bounced off the surrounding mountains.

Clorinde let the engine idle for a moment before unleashing a series of aggressive revs. The Lancia screamed as she pushed it to the redline, even letting it bounce there a few times, the metallic wail sending chills down the spines of spectators.

Keqing stepped forward, raising her hand. Her voice rang out, crisp and commanding.

"Alright! Let's do this thing!"

"FIVE!"

"FOUR!"

"THREE!"

"TWO!"

"ONE!"

"GO!"

Keqing's hand dropped, and the two cars surged forward. Blade's Evo shot off the line with precision, its advanced 4WD system gripping the tarmac like glue. Behind him, the Lancia struggled for traction, its tires spinning furiously as the engine howled, bouncing off the limiter.

They roared into the first right-hand corner, followed by a sharp left hairpin. The Evo carved through with surgical precision, its grip unrelenting. Behind it, the Lancia drifted through the turns with controlled chaos, its tail sliding wide before snapping back into line.

Blade glanced in his mirror and smirked. "She can enjoy the view of my taillights while she gets used to that 'new setup.' That's why I chose to lead—I'm no idiot."

But Clorinde wasn't about to back down. With every turn, her confidence grew, her connection with the car strengthening.

"This is awesome!" she exclaimed, adrenaline surging. "Navia, you're a freaking legend! This car feels exactly the way I wanted it to!"

Her foot slammed the gas pedal to the floor, and the Lancia shot forward, closing the gap to Blade's bumper.

At a left-hand hairpin, both cars braked hard. The Evo gripped through cleanly, but the Lancia stayed glued to it, executing a flawless four-wheel drift. The crowd erupted in cheers.

"Holy crap! Did you see that? The control on that Lancia is insane!"

"And it was wrecked just last night! How did they even fix it so fast?"

"They're like a rally team straight out of the golden era! They break something and rebuild it better overnight!"

Back at the base, Keqing approached Navia, her expression a mix of curiosity and admiration.

"Navia, I have to ask," Keqing said, folding her arms. "How do you know how to install all those parts? I didn't see you looking at any manuals or guides."

Navia chuckled, pulling a well-worn stack of stapled pages from the van. "Easy," she replied, holding it out. "This is the Lancia Rally 037 Group B FIA homologation papers. It's got everything—engine specs, suspension setup, every part of the car from the body to the chassis. Even interior parts and exact gear and differential ratios are in here."

Keqing's eyes widened as she took the papers. "That's... incredible! Where did you even get this?"

Navia smiled, placing a hand on her hip. "My dad. He's kept a copy for years, always reading through it like a bedtime story. I picked up a few things."

As the race continued, the Lancia's bruised body belied its raw power and refined precision. Clorinde wasn't just driving; she was dominating, rewriting the narrative of rally legends with every turn.

The race hit its fever pitch as Clorinde relentlessly chased down Blade's Lancer Evo. The two cars screamed through the course, their engines bellowing into the night as spectators leaned in, captivated by the battle.

Blade gritted his teeth, glancing into his mirror. "The Lancer Evo's the definitive rally car—undisputed," he muttered to himself. His grip on the wheel tightened. "Time for trash talk is over, girlie. Now get lost!"

Slamming his foot down, the Evo surged forward, its tires clawing at the road with every ounce of grip. But Clorinde scoffed, her determination unwavering.

"Not on my watch, hotshot," she muttered, her hands steady on the wheel.

She floored the gas pedal, the Lancia jolting forward like a predator zeroing in on its prey. The Evo pushed through a bumpy S-turn, but Clorinde's 037 danced through, its suspension soaking up every undulation. Despite Blade's best efforts, he couldn't shake her. The gap between the two cars was paper-thin, and her presence loomed heavy in his mirrors.

Back at base, Collei leaned casually against her iconic Eight-Six, her gaze fixed on the live timing screen.

"I finally get it," she said, her voice calm but sharp. "This race isn't just about speed—it's a proving ground. Clorinde's got two massive handicaps. First, she's had no practice on this course. Second, her car's setup isn't tuned for these conditions. By all logic, she shouldn't stand a chance."

Her green eyes shifted to Albedo, who was observing intently. "But Clorinde... she's different. The way she drove this afternoon was almost unhinged—like something clicked inside her."

Albedo glanced at the screen, noting the tight gaps. "She's close to Blade's times," he observed.

Collei nodded, her expression hardening. "But it's not just that. Blade's not as skilled as he thinks. He's the type who buys a fast car to compensate for lack of skill. There's a saying about that: buying a legendary car doesn't buy you the skill to match it."

Back on the track, frustration was beginning to take its toll on Blade. His confidence had been replaced with mounting panic.

"Damn it!" he snarled, his voice cracking. "I'm pushing as hard as I can, but she's still on me! How is this even possible? She didn't even run the course beforehand!"

Clorinde smirked behind him, her focus razor-sharp. "Keep slowing down, and you might as well be driving backward, you prick."

Her sharp eyes scanned the road ahead, and then she saw it—a perfect line through the next series of corners. It was a path only a fearless driver could take, a narrow thread of opportunity that promised victory.

"There it is," she murmured, her heart racing. "That's the line. If I hook the inside, I'll have just enough space to pass. And if I need to bump him, so be it."

Memories of her race against Serval's R34 flashed through her mind. The strategy was similar, the stakes just as high. She grinned. "Time to take this guy to school."

As they roared out of the final S-curve into the straightaway, Clorinde shifted into fourth gear. The Lancia spat flames as she eased off the throttle for a split second, then slammed it back down. The car surged forward like a missile, closing the distance to Blade's Evo.

Blade glanced to his left, his eyes widening as the Lancia crept into view.

"You idiot!" he yelled. "There's construction up ahead! There's no room on the left shoulder for both of us!"

But Clorinde was undeterred. She inched the Lancia closer, forcing Blade to veer to the right. The Evo's wheels hit the dirt, bouncing violently and throwing him off balance.

"Don't get any closer to me, you ass!" Blade roared, his frustration boiling over.

As the Lancia's nose edged ahead, Blade completely lost his composure.

"You son of a bitch!!!" he screamed, slamming on the brakes in a desperate attempt to regain control.

Clorinde chuckled, calm and composed. "Easy, big fella."

She braked hard, initiating a flawless four-wheel drift into the next corner. Blade tried to chase her down, but as he raced through the turn, the Lancia rocketed forward, leaving light trails from its taillights.

By the time Blade reached the straight, Clorinde was already multiple car lengths ahead. Clorinde wins. By outrunning Blade. The bruised but victorious Lancia had silenced all doubts, proving once again why it was a rally legend. Clorinde's revengance was complete.