That is All I Ask For: Chapter 17: Rise of Zero Eclipse

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The air was electric.

Crowds surged at the gates of the Grand Aegis Circuit, the first stop in the international tournament. Banners fluttered above glass observation decks. Teams rolled in with polished haulers and pristine liveries, their pit crews moving like synchronized clockwork. Camera drones hovered, capturing every second for global feeds.

Eclipse arrived without fanfare. No press swarm. No fireworks. Just a matte-black trailer and a team that had, only weeks ago, been torn at the seams.

But now?

Now they walked in as one.

Meredith led the way, all sharp edges and unreadable calm, her ever-present tablet tucked beneath one arm. Behind her came Daniel, grinning under mirrored sunglasses; Dante, focused and unreadable as ever; and finally—

Micah.

He was dressed simply: Zero Eclipse team jacket, racing boots, and a hood pulled over his head. He walked a few steps behind the rest, headphones in, hands shoved in his pockets like he was trying not to be noticed.

But people noticed.

Eyes flicked toward him as murmurs passed through the paddock.

"Is that Micah Blade?"

"Didn't he vanish after the Vex incident?"

"I thought he was just funding the team. He's racing now?"

No one approached. But everyone watched.

Micah's lips curled slightly. He didn't mind the whispers anymore.

Let them talk.

The Zero Eclipse pit was smaller than most — clean, functional, stripped of unnecessary flash. Meredith had organized every station, every cable, and every team member like the architect of a warship.

"Setup check in fifteen." She called out. "Telemetry uploads in ten. Tires in the sun for six. No one improvises today unless the track is on fire."

Daniel dropped onto a folding chair. "You know, I missed this energy."

Dante grinned faintly. "Feels like we're finally back."

Micah was crouched by his car, wiping down the front wing with practiced fingers. No one had asked him to. But it grounded him — like saying hello to a partner before a dance.

He opened the side compartment of his duffel, and there they were.

Old, worn, black leather gloves. The ones he hadn't touched since Julian died.

He slid them on slowly. The leather molded to his fingers like memory returning to its rightful place.

Behind him, Meredith noticed — and said nothing.

But her smile softened.

The driver's lounge was flooded with ego. Star racers from all over were there — championship winners, social media celebrities, old legends clinging to their reputations.

Micah stood near the back, arms crossed. Daniel waved him over, but he shook his head.

Dante came to stand beside him, glancing around the room. "You good?"

"Never better."

"Good. Because everyone else looks like they want to eat you alive."

Micah's eyes flicked to Falcon Apex's crew across the room. Wyatt Creed caught his gaze, held it, then looked away.

"That's new." Micah muttered.

"What?"

"He didn't smirk this time."

Before Dante could reply, the briefing began.

Zero Eclipse's lineup had Daniel first — a technical sprint against eight mid-tier teams. No drama. No surprises. He placed third and brought in solid points, smiling proudly as he returned to the pit.

Next up: Dante.

His race was different. Fierce. He pushed harder than usual — not reckless, but sharp. He battled one of Talon Vortex's secondary drivers in a near-photo finish and placed second in his heat.

When he pulled off his helmet in the garage, sweat clinging to his brow, Micah was waiting with a bottle of water.

"That wasn't bad." Micah said, smirking.

Dante bumped his shoulder. "Get ready to follow it up."

When Micah's name lit up on the stadium screen, the energy shifted.

Fans leaned forward. Cameras swiveled. Commentators perked up.

"Micah Blade. CEO of Eclipse. Rumored underground legend. First tournament race since—ever."

Micah walked to the grid slowly, head down. When he climbed into the cockpit, his movements were almost meditative.

The lights turned red.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Green.

He didn't explode off the line.

He flowed.

Other racers lunged forward, but Micah moved like water — weaving, gliding, holding back until Turn 5, where he took two places in one curve.

By Turn 9, he was in second.

By Lap 2, he was in first.

By Lap 3, he was untouchable.

Dante watched from the pit wall, shaking his head. "He's not even showing off."

Daniel grinned. "This is Micah showing off."

Micah crossed the finish line nearly five seconds ahead of the next driver.

Silence.

Then a standing roar.

And in the control booth, someone from Talon Vortex growled into their comms, "Send the kid in. Let's see how heroic he stays."

Micah hadn't even stepped out of his car before the attention descended on him.

Cameras clicked like a swarm of locusts. Crew members from rival teams passed by, pretending not to gawk. A few racers offered curt nods — not out of camaraderie, but acknowledgment. Respect. Wariness.

He pulled off his helmet slowly, running a gloved hand through sweat-damp hair. The crowd beyond the glass roared louder. The name "Micah Blade" was now on everyone's lips.

He turned to Dante and Daniel, who were waiting with matching expressions — awe buried under smug amusement.

Dante handed him a towel. "Five seconds ahead. Show off."

Micah only grinned. "Tried to keep it fair."

Daniel scoffed. "That was you holding back?"

Before anyone could reply, a new voice joined in.

"That was incredible!"

They turned.

A young man — maybe eighteen — stood near the edge of the pit line. Short black hair tousled under a white cap, violet racing overalls hanging slightly loose on his tall, lean frame. His eyes sparkled like someone who had just met a god.

"I'm Rai." He said quickly, offering his hand. "From Talon Vortex. I've seen every underground clip of you I could find. You're—" He stopped himself. "You're why I started driving."

Micah blinked. "Thanks. That means a lot."

Rai beamed, eyes drifting to Micah's gloves. "Are those... the gloves from the Berlin back-alley circuit run?"

Micah tilted his head. "You're too young to know about Berlin."

"I'm not too young to respect it." Rai said with a grin. "You raced like physics was optional."

Micah laughed, genuinely — a short, surprised sound. "I didn't expect fans here."

"I'm not a fan." Rai said, smiling. "I'm a believer."

That made Dante bristle.

Micah had barely walked five steps before Rai was back, asking questions. How did you perfect Turn 9? What gear ratios do you use on sharp slope dives? How do you prep your car's rear balance?

Micah answered most of them — amused by the wide-eyed enthusiasm, and charmed by Rai's complete lack of guile. He reminded Micah of... himself, maybe. Before everything.

Dante, leaning on a tool cart nearby, watched the two from under furrowed brows.

"Kid's laying it on thick." he muttered to Daniel.

Daniel shrugged. "He's just excited. That was us the first time we watched Micah drive."

"Still."

"You're not... jealous, are you?"

Dante didn't answer.

Micah chuckled as Rai eagerly asked for a selfie. "You really want a picture with me? What if your team sees?"

"They'll get over it. Besides, you're the reason I'm in this tournament." Rai said, holding up his phone.

Micah hesitated. Then leaned in for the photo.

Snap.

Back in the lounge, Meredith sat with three screens in front of her, earbuds in, watching the live feed delay from multiple networks.

Her brow furrowed.

A subtle narrative was starting to bubble. A Talon Vortex media handler was feeding rumors that Micah had been privately coaching rival drivers, claiming Rai's lap times had mysteriously improved after their "secret conversation."

It wasn't true. But in racing, perception moved faster than fact.

Meredith tapped her tablet, pulled up timestamps, pit logs, Rai's telemetry data, and footage from the circuit cameras. She drafted a statement, attached hard evidence, and sent it directly to the tournament's press board with a subtle cc to the Talon Vortex PR head.

The headline she wrote read:

"When You Idolize Someone, You Watch. Not Cheat."

Moments later, Talon's handler received a formal warning for "disseminating misinformation without verification."

Meredith smiled thinly and closed her tablet.

"Checkmate."

Micah was running post-race cooldown routines when Dante finally approached.

"Micah."

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"That Rai kid... he's a bit too obsessed with you."

Micah tilted his head, smirking. "Is someone jealous?"

"I'm just saying — you might want to keep some distance. People are watching."

Micah leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "So you are jealous."

Dante looked away. "No. Maybe. I just don't like the way he looks at you."

Micah's grin turned soft. "You used to look at me the same way."

Dante paused — caught between defensiveness and something far more vulnerable. "I still do." He said quietly.

Micah's heart skipped, but he masked it with a casual shrug. "Then you've got nothing to worry about."

Just as the tension began to lighten, Silas called out, "Dante, there's something weird with your sensor logs. Want to take a look?"

The moment changed.

They huddled around the screen. A line of code sat embedded deep in the warm-up log — not immediately suspicious, but Micah's eyes narrowed.

"That doesn't belong there." He said.

"It's a diagnostics loop." Silas added. "But masked like telemetry recall. Who would hide that?"

Micah didn't answer.

He already knew.

The engineering tent grew eerily quiet as the code line flickered on the screen — a ghost hiding in broad daylight.

Micah stared at it, his jaw tightening. "That isn't just diagnostics. That's a looped override. If it had activated mid-race, Dante could've lost braking control completely."

Daniel's breath caught. "That could've killed him."

Dante stepped forward, his face unreadable. "Can you trace it?"

"I can." Meredith said, already tapping into the backup servers. "Give me two minutes."

She connected her device to Eclipse's protected cloud logs. Everyone crowded around as line after line of data streamed across the screen, until—

"There." She tapped.

A foreign plug-in, disguised under Eclipse's own software signature. It had been inserted through a temporary maintenance account used for routine pre-race inspections.

"Who signed off on that staffer?" Dante asked.

Meredith's eyes narrowed. She scrolled down the registry.

"Company name: Leviathan Security Logistics. Hired on short-term rotation."

Micah's blood ran cold.

"That's one of Adam's fronts." He said. "Used it back when we were trying to protect underground circuits from real interference. Now he's using it against us."

Dante's hands curled into fists. "So this was his play."

"A warning." Micah said. "Or bait."

Meredith looked between them. "Then we treat it like what it is. He made his first move. Now it's our turn."

The day drew to a close with the final rankings flashing across the massive circuit display:

Overall Day 1 Standings
1. Talon Vortex
2. Zero Eclipse
3. Falcon Apex

The pit crew burst into light celebration — not over-the-top, but proud. It was the highest Eclipse had ever placed.

Micah leaned against the garage door, arms crossed, his old gloves tucked into his belt. He watched his team laugh, regroup, and eat greasy sandwiches like they'd just conquered the world.

Daniel flung a bottle of water at him. "We're officially not the underdogs anymore."

Micah caught it one-handed. "Give it another day. I'll let you call us legends then."

Later that evening, a subtle rumor popped up again — one suggesting Zero Eclipse's success was tied to unregistered AI mapping. This time, it wasn't from Talon. It was from Falcon Apex.

Meredith handled it with surgical precision.

She scheduled a last-minute press slot, pulling up Eclipse's tech integrity reports live on air.

"I invite any and all teams to replicate our setups." She said calmly. "If you can. We don't cheat. We engineer."

The press loved it. Within the hour, Meredith was trending on social media.

She returned to the tent like nothing had happened. Micah gave her a look.

"You scare me sometimes."

Meredith raised an eyebrow. "Only sometimes?"

Out on the edge of the lot, Rai found Micah again — this time shy, holding out a glove with a marker.

"Could you... sign it?"

Micah glanced over — and noticed Dante watching from a distance again, arms folded.

Micah signed it anyway. "Good run today. You've got potential."

Rai smiled, cheeks flushed. "Maybe we'll share a track one day."

Micah nodded. "Maybe."

When Rai left, Dante approached.

"You like the attention, huh?"

Micah grinned. "You're really hung up on this."

"He's into you."

"He's young. And impressionable."

Dante looked away. "Still. I don't like sharing."

Micah's heart thumped harder than it should have.

"You never had to."

As the sun dipped below the circuit stands, Micah walked toward his trailer — alone. He sat on the steps, peeling off his gloves, staring at them in the fading light.

So much had changed.

So much still remained.

The memory of Julian flickered in his chest — the voice that once whispered "go faster," now echoing quieter, more gentle. Less ghost. More guidance.

Dante sat down beside him without a word.

They didn't speak for a long time.

Eventually, Micah broke the silence.

"We're being hunted."

Dante didn't flinch. "I know."

"He'll come for you again."

"I'll be ready. Because this time... I'm not fighting him alone."

Micah looked at him. "That jealousy earlier was really something."

Dante laughed, soft and embarrassed. "Shut up."

Micah leaned back, gaze on the stars. "You're lucky I like you."

Dante didn't answer, but his hand brushed briefly against Micah's — a fleeting contact, almost accidental. Almost.

The circuit was nearly empty now. Teams packed up. Lights flickered down row by row.

But in the Eclipse garage, Micah's car sat gleaming under a single light.

His gloves — old, worn, but finally at peace — rested on the dashboard.

And the team? They were ready.

They had survived sabotage, whispers, and ghosts.

Now, it was time to rise.

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