There would be no music for the duration of this trip. The cassette player played, sure, but it was muted.

  It is another car ride. But the atmosphere was different.

  The Neosun, throbbing behind them. The road, straight and boring. The lights denominating the lanes glowed like a bright neon rainbow.

  The road was smooth, maintained, and traffic was plenty for their standards. As a huge mass hauler screamed by in the opposite lane, John asks a question.

  “You know, we still need a mechanic. Are you absolutely sur—”

  “No John. That was the end of it for me. And God knows why you've decided to come.” Jimbo replies, his voice resignation incarnate.

  John tries to justify his presence as best he can.

  “I want to know what we're fighting. Without me here, it'll be on their terms, and that will not go well.”

  “It will only ever be on their terms. You're an idiot. You're gonna suffer with me.” Jimbo replies.

  A lighting bolt rips across the sky directly above, the mass hauler quite a ways in the distance. The Neosun, a streaky spectre in the rear vision mirror. The water of the rain warped the light which came through the rear windshield. The wiper blades, over half way to full blast.

  “Jimbo. I don't have to justify it to you. What was your plan anyway?”

  John asked, checking his speed which sits at 140kph, the revs sitting at a comfy 2880rpm.

  “Plan? As if I had a plan.” Jimbo told him, throwing his arms up in the air mockingly. John leans over as he continues driving. “We'll come up with one. I'll focus on driving. Let me know if you think of something.”

  “Whatever.” Jimbo replies.

  A monument of time passes and the two don't speak a word.

  They had passed close to a hundred vehicles by now, and had likely been passed by similar amounts. Quite a few delinquent racers had passed with obnoxious neon, metallic paints and shitty exhaust. Jimbo, the modifier of this Versa, scoffs at the sight by the third time it happens.

  Just as he speaks, the unsightly beacons of North Platte forebode through the fog. “John. You see those dipshits? This thing could smoke them any day of the week.”

  “I'm sure it could.” John replies, his voice and mannerism far more reserved since they last spoke.

  Jimbo sits up in his chair and turns to John.

  “John. You haven't asked me jack shit.”

  “I asked for a plan.” John replies.

  “Yeah. But you haven't asked about anything personal. About history, characters. Shit I actually know.” Jimbo reasons.

  John takes his eyes off the road for a second to take a glance at Jimbo.

  “I figured if it was anything important, you wouldn't have to be asked. That is, of course, if you were ever on our side to begin with.”

  Jimbo looks away and slumps on his chair, taking a deep breath out.

  “Well. If that's the case, I'll start with myself. Want to know the history of Hastings?”

  “Go right ahead.” John tells him, his eyes on the road. John pays more attention to his ears as Jimbo starts talking.

  “It all started forty nine years ago. 2035 is the year I was born. This car you're sitting in? It was brought by my father secondhand from a dealership that used to be in Hastings. Hastings is also where the Kool-Aid man comes from. Not that you'd know who he is anymore. His brand was brought out and eaten by private equity, just like the rest of the town. Skips half my life's story, and then the rain started.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  John tilts his head a little. “Skip? Why? There's plenty of time.”

  “There is never enough time.” Jimbo tells him, turning again to face John. “Besides. You told me to tell you shit that's important to me. Half of my life I'd rather forget.”

  Jimbo leans back again. John nods his head for Jimbo to continue, another lighting bolt shooting through the clouds.

  “Skip to the rain. It was 2058. Everyone was happy about the business wars ending two years prior. Which, it made sense, excluding the fact it was Kubaal Aetheon that came out on top. I remember it clear as day… or, as clear as day was. Barry Luxton became president. Everyone's lives were being made so easy through SERaMACs. Then one morning, it started raining. And shit only got worse from there.”

  “Jimbo, half of that means nothing to me.” John tells him, frustrated at the lack of context.

  “Too bad, bud.” Jimbo replies. “I'll write the shit on your digiphone or something. I'm not about to talk for an hour. I'm a dead man, John.”

  “Not yet you're not.” John replies.

  Jimbo snatched his phone and started writing down stuff. His eyes remained glued to the screen for almost an hour. By the time he looked up again, they were within the sprawl of North Platte.

  The suffocating buildings, the blinding lights, the vice, the advertisements, the ships, the clubs, the arcades. A deep root of disgusts throbs within Jimbo.

  “It's done.” He tells John, a renewed sense of drive coming from his repulsion. John commented. “That's good. I'm sure it will be shared later.”

  The Neosun by this point was firmly in the west. It lowered without an arc; straight up and down. The temperature did not change regardless of its height. “John.” Jimbo asks. “I need to tell you some straight up.”

  “That's a change.” John says snarkily.

  “Fuck off.” Replies Jimbo. “This is something that is very important, alright?”

  John focuses his ears again. A difficult task with the over-stimulation of the city lights. It all feels so hollow now. What once used to be a bustling sprawl to him now just smoke in the mirror. So much movement, doing nothing. So many system, crumbling.

  Just to be rebuilt by those in power or control.

  And never change.

  Yet John opens his ears as Jimbo continues, speaking from the heart.

  “This car… this is the world to me. There was a reason I taught you to drive manual. It wasn't just for fun. It's because I needed someone who I could make sure would take care of it once I'm gone.”

  “Okay?” John comments as Jimbo continues.

  “I'm not an idiot. I know my time is up. That much is for sure. I never had any kids. Never had a long term partner. I had a good job once… but it was inconsequential really.”

  Jimbo looks to John with a heavy heart and puts his hand on his shoulder. “I have nothing to leave behind. Nothing but this car. This thing is older than I am. I've shoved at least four engines in it by now. I've converted it to all-wheel-drive, LPG, lowered it, lifted it, put a million miles on the goddamned thing. I tried with rebellion John, but I will never live to see it though.”

  They reach a stoplight, giving John the opportunity to look back. The rain and low hum of the engine is the only ambiance as they’re the only car at that light.

  “But I at least hope to live long enough to see you drive away in this thing. So I need a promise from you, John. I don't want a legend, or a hug, or any stupid shit. I want you to promise me you'll take care of her. Alright?”

  Jimbo’s voice was heavy and soft. John gritted his lips and looked away as he nodded. “Okay Jimbo. I can at least do that for you.”

  Jimbo nodded as a reply, though John never saw it. The mission comes back to the forefront of mind. John asks him a question.

  “We still need a plan. Have you got one?”

  “Actually… I think I might just.” Jimbo answers, turning off John's digiphone and throwing is aside.

  “I know there's two people there waiting for us. Through the process of elimination, I know that Cerberus is there for sure. But I'm not sure who else. Maybe some enforcer.”

  “Cerberus?” John asked.

  “It's a long story. He'll be a guy on the same rank as Proteus. I'm not sure what happened to the last one, but expect a big guy no matter what.” Jimbo replies before finishing his sentence.

  “It will all be explained on your phone later.”

  “The plan.” John reminds him. Jimbo gets back on track.

  “Ah. Yes. The plan…”