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Cal’s first race had just begun in the big leagues. Strip had been eager and on edge as he was Cal’s crew chief. It killed him knowing how risky it was within the racing scene considering the sport and knowing you could be on the track one second and in the dirt the next. He had been watching with pure anxiousness, hoping his nephew would pull out a victory with this race. Watching, Cal was neck and neck with Lightning and Bobby. This was driving him up the wall with anxiety he did not know he even had. But, to his delight, Cal had come out victorious. It made him release a sigh of relief that he did not even know he had been holding. But, when he watched the race’s aftermath come to life, he had gone blank and quiet. Was it intentional? No. It never was.
When the Dinoco pit crew decided to celebrate, Strip watched from afar. His gaze was more focused on the dirt and the grassy fielding of the middle section of the track. His heart thundered methodically in his chest with his eyes never parting with the grassy field. Why couldn’t he focus on his nephew? Was there something wrong with him? He knew he had to focus! He knew he had to celebrate the win with his nephew, but he just… could not focus. Strip was uneasy and uncertain, but it came to him clearly within seconds.
His crash.
The final race of his career before he retired.
The tiebreaker race.
That was the issue at hand.
The visceral imagery of his Superbird in the dirt and all battered and practically broken made him shiver with chills dancing down his spinal cord and through his body with cold sweat running down his forehead. He was focused on the crash. It had not been pretty to see in the third person nor was it pretty to remember. He remembered every ounce of pain he had accumulated as his Superbird went flying and came to a halting pause when it finally stopped flipping and landed on its wheels. It killed him both mentally and emotionally to see that his car, his beloved Plymouth Superbird, was bruised, battered, and beaten up as badly as it was. It did not help that he knew he couldn’t fix it right away considering his various bone breakage sprains and bruising both externally and internally. Everything had hurt to where even now; he still felt phantom pains. It was horrid on him as he was getting older, so it truly felt as if his pain had been amplified tenfold as it was a decade ago. He knew the pain was so intense that it even paused his life until he could move comfortably.
Not only was it hard to fight the phantom pains, but it was hard to fight the emotional agony and distress he had gone through during his recovery. The anger, the sorrow, the pain, the visceral disgust... it all haunted his mind. He knew he had all reason to be upset and bothered by Hicks and if you were to ask him how he felt, he would say he had no ill impression of Hicks. But those close to him knew how good of a liar he truly was. He was not quite the pathological liar but by the gods, was he a good liar. Strip knew he could truly let himself loose and hold nothing back on Hicks, however, he also knew he had to be professional as he was out on a track with press around him. Internally, he felt shattered and unfixable considering what his past from the tiebreaker race had held in his head. Was he frustrated? Absolutely. Was he viscerally pissed? He knew he had all reason to be and that was what he was.
His calm and soothing hazel-brown eyes soon grew darker than any muddy river that flowed during a heavy storm. He had felt his blood boiling grow stronger and more enthusiastic by the second as he kept thinking about the unspoken words he had with Chick Hicks. There were several things he could say to that sick bastard that he classified as a parasite to the entire field of racing. He knew that there were so many things he could do to let his rage unfold and be freed like a bird kept in a cage for too long. Strip wasn’t a very violent person, he was a more laidback and calm character, so this degree of visceral rage was uncharacteristically scary for those who had seen this side of him.
“Hey, look what the cat dragged in! What are you doing out here, old man?”
Speak of the goddamn devil.
Chick just had to decide to come to sniff him down like the nosy bastard he was.
Just what Strip needed.
“Chick.”
Strip was not keen on the other and he turned to face Chick with hostility and violent tendencies burning bright in his eyes. When he spoke to Chick, his tone was sharp and cold which was unlike him.
Chick glanced towards him with cocky onyx-like brown eyes, his gaze arrogant and cocky. His posture was sharp, conniving, determined, and even such a volume of egotistical behaviors that pissed Strip off to no end.
“How is the old man doing after his crash? It is such a tragedy that the King had such a brutal fall from grace. Oh, what a shame that you fell so hard into that cold grass and dirt. I guess you could say that you flew too close to the sun, huh?” Chick snarled with such an egotistical grin that was layered and filled to the brim with such sarcasm and prideful nerve to say that to Strip. When he said that, his own eyes locked with Strip’s own. He had not missed the gleam of enthusiastic anger that proved he held nothing back and he was fighting his demons internally to let loose. However, Strip knew he could not let go of his anger just yet.
Strip glared the latter down with a glare that spoke unspoken yet unmeasured indignation. His heart thundered furiously against his ribcage as he glared down the man responsible for his months of physical and mental suffering, the man responsible for his haughtiness towards the Hostile Takeover Bank’s former racer. His snarl was coated with a layer of faux friendliness. “I hope you are doing well, Hicks. I have found myself doing simply fine, though, I do not understand the reason that you seem to care suddenly. After all, you caused my downfall. So, if you want to stand here and fuss about how my “downfall was so tragic,” then I guess you’re going down with me because I know DAMN well, you’re not going to get away scot-free, Hicks.” He snarled with such a volatile tone that spoke unyielding anger and the urges to let loose and throttle the sorrowful excuse for a racer, now an ex-racer, he had ever met in his entire life.
Chick cackled coldly, his grin smug and swagger, stepping at least two feet closer to deduce the space between them that measured six feet. Compared to Strip, Chick was at least 5’9” compared to Strip’s 6’1” stature. His body language screamed egotism and sufficiency knowing he was slowly digging into Strip’s calm demeanor and slowly ripping it to shreds with each venomous word he spat to his elder. He knew it was working and by the gods, was he having the thrill of his life.
“Oh, but c’mon, it is not THAT big of a deal, and you know it. You are just letting it bother you because you are just a big, emotionally dumb, childish bitch that cannot manage any defeat. Hell, we both know that you are just mad that you lost the race.” Chick challenged with intentionally demeaning words that spoke degrading volumes. He had come behind Strip in various races and he was too prideful to lose to the seven-time winner, hence his reasoning for creating such vile maneuvers to Strip on the track. He knew he could not lose again! Chick even knew what words to say to get the former King to crack under his words. He was a vile person for saying that and honestly, Chick did not give a flying damn. All he wanted was to continue tormenting the former champion and ensure that his name haunted the crew chief for Cal.
The blond stared the raven-haired man down with his fists balled up by his sides to try to keep himself calm. His knuckles turned white as he squeezed tightly, subconsciously sinking his fingernails into his palms. It was clear Chick’s words were getting to him, and he knew Chick knew that too. The white coloring of his knuckles stood out by a fraction against his pale complexion. Naturally, the indenting process of his nails into his skin usually grounded him but this time, it did not. His pent-up rage and boiling blood he hid under the surface gripped him tightly, his emotions holding the ropes while reason fought back weakly in his mind. With every word Hicks spat, it only made his string of control grow weaker by a thread every second that passed by.
It was so much more than the fact that he had “lost.” It was more than that and he knew Chick was aware of it.
His blood boiled tenfold to what it was before Hicks decided to try to rip him apart with venomous words spilling from his lying, cheating mouth.
“You and I both know, Hicks, it is more than just “losing.” You, of all people within the racing community, would know that.” Strip spat with his amount of venom.
“But, old man, it is just racing! It does not matter what happens on the track, you know that. It is just racing, and nobody cares!” Chick grinned with prideful arrogance. His gaze was taunting and aggressive as he did everything, he could throttle the other’s spirit and break it into shards.
That alone truly broke him.
“IS THAT ALL RACING IS TO YOU? YOU FAIL TO SEE HOW YOUR RECKLESSNESS, YOUR CHILDISHNESS, YOUR ARROGANCE, YOUR PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR RACING, YOUR MOTTO, ALL OF IT IS USELESS! YOU WERE THE ENTIRE REASON WHY I SPENT MONTHS IN THE HOSPITAL, MY WIFE BESIDE ME! NOBODY KNEW IF I WOULD EVEN SPEAK AGAIN, DAMMIT! YOU ARE THE SORRIEST EXCUSE OF A RACER I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE! CHICK HICKS, GROW UP! FIX YOUR ARROGANCE, NOBODY WANTS TO DEAL WITH IT! NOBODY WANTS TO SEE YOU THROW YOUR TEMPER TANTRUMS JUST BECAUSE YOU GOT SICK AND TIRED OF LOSING TO ME!” He roared. Strip finally let go of his anger by a fraction, never truly letting all of it out as he had given Chick a slight piece of his mind.
Chick grinned cockily.
He had gotten what he was looking for. This is what he wanted. He wanted to drive the old man up the wall to milk a response and a reaction out of him truly. In the end, his plan worked.
Strip noticed Chick went silent, which, he took as a chance to truly rip open his wound and pour tons of salt into it.
“MY CRASH IS YOUR FAULT! MY MIND, BODY, AND SPIRIT SHATTERED INTO PIECES BECAUSE OF YOUR PATHETIC ASS DECIDING TO THROW A TEMPER TANTRUM JUST BECAUSE YOU DID NOT WANT TO LOSE TO ME! I HOPE YOU ARE PLEASED, HICKS! I AM EXTREMELY GLAD HOSTILE TAKEOVER BANK ENDED THEIR CONTRACT WITH YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE JUST A SICK BASTARD AND A PARASITE WITHIN RACING!” Strip roared, truly letting the raven-haired male have it. He knew that it was too far but right now, he had not cared. A decade’s worth of unsaid words truly echoed in his head. He knew his wife, Lynda, once told him something.
“Don’t stoop to his level, hon.”
He could hear her voice in his head, resulting in him taking a deep breath and truly focusing on his breathing for a moment as he stormed off to try to cool himself down before he made a bigger scene than he already did.
However, the question was this: how long could he keep his cool before he truly let himself go and let Chick have what he had kept to himself and buried for eleven years straight?
All Strip knew was this: it would not be much longer.
He was pissed, furious, angered, every degree of anger in the book that could even be said and none of it would truly discuss the degree of anger and disgust he had felt.
Chick cockily smiled up at him, his arrogance quite present and overbearing. It was the only thing Strip could not drop and that, by itself, irked him to the point of no return.
“It is JUST racing, things like that happen to everyone, old man. We all know you were prone to wash up at some point, just like your inspiration. Surely, we all cannot forget the crash of The Fabulous Hudson Hornet and honestly, he had it coming. Now, look at you, just as washed up as he is, and you are NEVER going to recover.” Chicks preened with an ego that was bigger than any black hole that had been spotted by NASA and their team.
Strip stared down the man in front of him, gritting his teeth. Chick’s haughtiness and self-importance truly boiled his blood. In a futile attempt to soothe himself, he took a hand and gently ran it through his whitening blond locks, groaning quietly. He was not having a suitable time as he fought everything in himself to not let go just yet.
“Watch the tongue, Hicks. There is a reason Hostile Takeover Bank dropped your fruitless and ineffective ass because we all know that you are just a lying and conniving bastard that NEVER deserved the wins you earned.” He grunted, swiftly turning on his heel to rejoin the celebration Dinoco was having with his nephew to honor the first victory of his first-ever racing season.
Strip had been so far into his head, that he did not register that his former crew chief had approached him with concern shining brightly in his eyes.
“Hey, kid, you all, right? You have been gone for a good twenty minutes. Nobody knew where you went! We were trying to keep Cal calm, so he did not freak out over his uncle missing from his big day.” Roger fussed.
Strip took a deep breath, shaking his head as he ran a pale hand over his face. His brown eyes were truly a dead giveaway regarding his true state of mind, but he knew he had to cover it up. “Sorry, Rog, I am all right. I just needed to process something during the race. It is nothing nobody did, I assure you, I needed some space to take a deep breath and relax for a moment. You know how the first win adrenaline kicks in.”
Roger, Strip’s former crew chief, glanced over the other’s gaze. He stood quietly with the skillset that allowed him to thoroughly assess his underlying feelings. Roger was very skilled in the department of reading others before they told him how they felt or what was bothering him. Nobody knew why he was good at that, but he was. He took a deep breath and sighed with concern, soon blending into disappointment.
“Strip, kid, what did you do?”
“Roger. I did not do a single thing as we both know I am rational.” Strip huffed with a glance of irritation and genuine discontent blended with discomfort. He could not shake Chick’s words, he was rattled to the bone, however, he knew that he had to keep himself in line. He knew if he talked about it without delay, then he would go off the walls with such anger that he knew the press would do WHATEVER they could milk a hot subject out of him. So, he kept quiet for a moment and took a deep breath after closing his eyes to try to calm himself even further.
“Roger, can we talk about it later? I would say what happened now, however, consider the press that is around us right now. I cannot express that, even though my emotions are very intense right now. So, in a concluding statement, it is best to discuss what happened later when we are alone and not crammed into a crowd of press members cramming their cameras and flashing in our faces. Hope you understand.” He spoke with an uncharacteristically formal tone. Strip had never been the type to formally speak like what he had just said unless he was discussing important matters with people he hadn’t been close to or just begun talking to.
With a reluctance to drop the subject, Roger dropped it. Even if his former racer was now a crew chief, it did not mean he still did not worry about him. Strip, to Roger, was like his unofficial son and he knew he would do anything he could to keep Strip unharmed. “Okay, okay, if you’re sure… just know that I’m here for you and so is Tex. I may not know what is going through that dense head of yours, but I am willing to wait until you tell me what happened that got you to disappear for twenty minutes. Kid, even if I’m not your crew chief anymore, I still worry about you considering your unsettling skill to disappear randomly and suddenly reappear at an entirely different place.”
“I know, Roger, thank you. I would tell you what happened, but I fear I may cause a scene with how violent and volatile my emotions are currently.”
“Okay, you’re welcome. Just be safe, yes? I don’t know who or what got you so worked up right now, however, I am here for you.”
With that, Strip took a deep breath and walked off, trying to settle down again and try to shake off Chick’s words that still echoed in his heart and soul.
“It’s racing, it happens to everyone” and “It’s such a tragedy that the King had such a brutal fall from grace” was what Chick had said. What did Chick know? He was practically still a rookie! Nobody seemed to understand what Strip knew about Chick. When Chick came to the scene for the first time, he knew that the man was naively ridiculous. And, on top of that, he knew that the man was quite the most pathetic piece of shit he had ever met. Chick got to the crevasses of his mind not even himself knew he had or hell, even recognized! Gods, he personally wanted to throttle Hicks for his smart-ass comments and his unnecessary sass that NOBODY asked for. God, why did Chick never know when to shut his stupid mouth before he got himself beat up?
Beat up.
That was an idea.
… No, he couldn’t.
But he truly could if he wanted to. If Chick wanted bloodshed with words, he knew he could show him bloodshed with his words AND punches. However, he knew it wasn’t a good idea to initiate anything legally since if he threw the first punch, Chick could file assault charges.
If Chick filed, it would easily be a case Chick could win. So, Strip wondered. “If I could get him to swing first, maybe I could let loose and claim it as self-defense. It wouldn’t be hard to work him up, it never is hard. Hell, all I’d have to do is milk a reaction just like- no, I cannot. I must keep myself calm and focused. But, ugh… I want to see him cower in fear. It’s best if I don’t, better for me and less coverage for the press.”
So, Strip decided against the urges.
He resisted the urges he had to let go and get Chick to bleed. He knew it was a bad idea, but he knew one thing: he had to behave and keep his composure even if it was hard. So, he took it upon himself to try to take a drive in his Superbird to focus again and clear his mind after the track was cleared of any pedestrians or other cars that would prevent his urges to speed to chase away any underlying emotions of visceral rage and anger.
He took a deep breath and started the engine after climbing into it, revving it with gentle touches on the wheel, gas, and brake pedals. He drove it with an air that spoke the unspoken thoughts in his mind, hearing Chick’s vile words echoing in his mind. Each time he heard Chick’s voice in his head, he pushed the pedal even further.
Was it good that he did that?
Probably not.
Did he care?
No.
He was slowly cooling down but once he saw, the bastard named Chick Hicks’s ugly lime green car, his blood boiled. Strip got out and parked his Superbird in the shadows of the track, storming to Chick with a deep-rooted snarl and transient anger he had rooted deep in his veins.
“Chick Hicks. We need to talk. Now.”
“Aww, did the old bastard not get enough slandering from the former and forever Piston Cup Champion? How hysterical! Do you think cornering me like this will EVER intimidate me? You’re truly a fool if you think that you can intimidate me!” Chick cackled maniacally, stepping up towards the older, jabbing a finger into his chest harshly.
“Hicks. Watch. Your. Tongue. You do not recognize how many things I have left unsaid for the past eleven years. Do you want to know how I feel, huh? Do you want to know EVERYTHING I have kept to my chest about knowing you and how GENUINELY PATHETIC you are? Huh? Do you want to FUCKING KNOW?” Strip roared; his hazel-brown eyes lit ablaze with underlying anger. He never truly let go like this unless it was something that truly held him in a chokehold without relenting or letting him go.
Chick grinned. This was getting amusing to him.
“Sure, tell me, Strip Weathers. Tell me everything. You are just an old dog who is solely all bark and never any bite! The entire world knows that for a damn fact! And besides, who are you to sit here and lash out like a rabid dog? You’re truly just a sorry excuse for a man and we ALL know it! After all, you’re just washed up and upset that I took your throne rightfully!”
That was all Strip needed.
That was the last straw.
“Oh, you think you took it rightfully? “Rightfully”, huh? How utterly PATHETIC AND SAD! YOU NEVER DESERVED IT! WE ALL KNOW YOU ARE NOTORIOUSLY KNOWN FOR LYING, CHEATING, MANIPULATIVE, AND COLLUSIVE! NOBODY FUCKING RESPECTS YOU! ALL YOU HAVE BEEN IS JUST A PEST, AN INVASIVE SPECIES OF ANIMAL IN THE WORLD OF RACING! LET’S ALSO NOT FORGET HOW YOU ARE THE WORST FUCKING BOOTLICKER I HAVE EVER MET IN MY ENTIRE RACING CAREER!”
“Aw, how cute! Do you think yelling and name-calling will scare me? You’re so pathetic! Look at you, once an honorable man snapping like a chihuahua! How hysterical! Listen, Strip Weathers, you do not scare me, and you never will because you’re so old as is!” He derided, a jeering mocking look in his eyes accompanied by a confident smile. Chick knew he was getting to the former King.
“CHICK HICKS, DO YOU WANT TO ADDRESS THE AFFAIR WITH YOUR WIFE? YEAH, WE ALL KNOW ABOUT IT! WE ALL KNOW THAT SHE FOUND SOMEONE BETTER THAN YOU BECAUSE SHE GOT SICK OF YOUR DUMBASS BITCHING AND BEING A SORRY EXCUSE FOR A HUSBAND! YOU ARE THE WORST MAN I HAVE EVER MET AND FRANKLY, I AM SO FUCKING ECSTATIC THAT I CAN RIP INTO YOU LIKE THIS AFTER ELEVEN GODDAMN YEARS! YOU THINK YOU’RE THE SHIT? HA! TRY FUCKING AGAIN! ALL YOU ARE, HICKS, IS A DISGRACE WITHIN THE RACING WORLD AND LITERALLY, NOBODY CAN STAND YOU BECAUSE OF HOW GENUINELY EMBARRASSING YOU ARE! NOBODY WANTS TO FUCKING BE AROUND YOU BECAUSE YOU MAKE YOUR PRIDEFUL ASS YOUR ONLY FUCKING PERSONALITY TRAIT! GROW THE HELL UP BEFORE EVERYONE LEAVES YOU, OH, WAIT, THEY DID! THEY ALL ABANDONED YOU ALL BECAUSE YOU ARE ONE OF THE WORST PEOPLE I HAVE EVER MET AND I HAVE MET MY FAIR SHARE OF EGOTISTICAL ASSHOLES! SO, WITH THAT, FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU AND STAY OUT OF CAL’S LIFE BEFORE I THROTTLE YOU INTO THE SUN AND LEAVE YOU TO BURN IN IT!”
Strip went on this rampage for a good twenty minutes because he had MANY things to say, and before he knew it. He had shut Chick Hicks up. The once mighty “former and forever Piston Cup Champion” now struck down to nothing.
Was he pleased? Absolutely.
Was he content? Yes, he was. Strip got everything he needed off of his chest with ZERO remorse. He knew that Chick deserved it all because he knew that there were many unspoken thoughts he kept to himself. But, he knew some other things he could bring up, so, he kept going.
“OH, BY THE WAY, YOU ARE A MONSTER! YOU ARE SUCH A BLOOD-SUCKING LEECH THAT CHEATED HIS WAY TO THE TOP! I HAVE PLAYED NICE WITH YOU FOR THE PAST ELEVEN YEARS AND NOW, I THINK I AM READY TO LET LOOSE! I NEED YOU TO UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ARE THE BANE OF MY GODDAMN EXISTENCE, CHICK, YOU ARE THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE! IF ANYTHING, WE ARE ALSO ALL AWARE THAT YOU ARE A CHEATING SACK OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU RECOGNIZE THAT YOU HAVE RUINED MY LIFE, RUINED MY CONSCIOUSNESS, HOSPITALIZED ME FOR MONTHS, AND CAUSED YEARS’ WORTH OF DAMAGE I STILL HAVE YET TO FIX BECAUSE OF HOW RECKLESSLY IDIOTIC YOU ARE ON MY SUPERBIRD! I HOPE YOU ARE FUCKING PLEASED!” Strip roared, his anger lessening with every word he snapped. He was enjoying the genuine fear and upset he had managed to drive into Chick.
Chick, for once, was speechless. He hadn’t known how to reply to that. He was going to remain silent because he knew that Strip was right. He even knew that the entire racing community knew of his past just as Strip had. Now, even while racing against him, Chick had never seen the other man in such a state of volatile anger. Hell, he hadn’t known how to process everything that was just said. Chick was truly struck speechless.
By the time he went to spit out an answer, the Plymouth Superbird Strip Weathers had driven was gone and out of his sight. He hadn’t noticed where it had gone, but he knew he deserved every ounce of lashing out he received from the former racer. Chick soon ran a shaky hand through his black hair had been gaining slightly noticeable silver streaks because of his getting older. He took a shaky deep breath in, holding it, and slowly letting it out.
Never again was he to cross Strip Weathers like that.
Now, he knew to never challenge him with his pride and arrogance. In the end, he knew that he had been humbled.