Episode 9: Burn the Bridges
Level: 9
The Gate still hummed behind Roosevelt Island, folding and unfolding like a lung that didn't need air. But on campus, the fever didn't wait for the interdimensional jump.
It waited for him.
Zoom X.
By now, his name wasn't just a chant. It was a curse. Rival crews spat it through clenched teeth. Girls whispered it like a drug they couldn't quit. Professors flinched when they heard it echo down the halls.
And every time he touched a woman, his hunger twisted sharper. His mouth got crueler. His smirk cut deeper. Respect was a currency he'd stopped accepting. All that remained was winning, taking, breaking.
⸻
The Drift of Hunger
The night opened in Brooklyn's circuit hall, concrete walls vibrating from the bass of underground DJs. A 50-player After Dark race lined up under flickering fluorescent lights.
Names whispered through the smoke:
• Racers: Darius Pike, Riko Tanaka, Seth Vance, Alondra Cruz, Malik Graves, Kaito Ryo, Nia Storm.
• Girls clinging to hoods and laps: Veronica, Yui, Carissa, Danielle, Mei, and countless more.
The stakes weren't money this time. They were respect and humiliation. Every loser forfeited something the crowd chose. Shirts. Keys. Lovers. Secrets.
Zoom's Evo sat in the middle, black veins pulsing across its silver frame like a heartbeat in metal. Jason Hiro's GT-R revved on the far side, its growl drowned only by Jason's rage.
The countdown started.
3… 2… 1…
The lot detonated. Tires screamed, engines barked, concrete split. The Evo swung wide on the first corner, smoke curling like a dragon. Half the field clipped walls. A Mustang slammed into Malik Graves' Dodge, flipping sparks through the rafters.
Zoom didn't blink. The Evo hummed.
Three laps in, only eight cars still fought. Jason clawed, biting every line Zoom took, but the silver beast was ruthless. On the final corner, Zoom drifted so tight the guardrail kissed paint, then exploded out, crossing first. Jason's GT-R finished second, Riko Tanaka's Supra limping in third.
Zoom stepped out, cigarette already between his teeth. He didn't cheer. He didn't even glance at the wrecks burning behind him.
Instead, he turned toward Veronica—Darius Pike's girl—who had been watching him with hungry eyes all race.
"You're mine tonight," he said flatly. "Get over here."
Darius shouted, fists tight. "The fuck you say?!"
Zoom blew smoke, smirk crooked. "I said your girl's done clapping for losers. She's moaning for me now."
The crowd roared like animals. Veronica froze, torn between loyalty and heat. Then she stepped forward.
The dorms echoed with her moans that night, muffled against the walls. And when she left his room, disheveled and dazed, Zoom's voice carried behind her:
"Don't forget who made you scream, bitch. That's permanent."
The New Zoom
Every time he touched another woman, something in him hardened. He cursed more freely, spit venom without blinking. If someone glared, he didn't ignore it anymore.
"Stare again, asshole," he barked at Seth Vance in the cafeteria. "I'll fuck your sister just to make you shut up."
And when Seth swung, Zoom caught his fist midair and drove him into the table. The fight ended with Zoom walking out, cigarette dangling, two girls trailing behind him, ignoring the chaos left behind.
The professors noticed too. Celeste Armond, who had once whispered his name like a secret, now endured his smirk and sharp tongue. He bent her over her own desk in silence the next time she came to him, and when it was over, he didn't even look back as he zipped up.
"You'll be back," he muttered. "Don't bother pretending you won't."
She hated that he was right.
⸻
The Track of Lust
Saturday brought another 25-player sprint, sanctioned and brutal. This time, the names were fresh: Kendra Moss, Julio Vega, and a newcomer known only as "Blade."
Zoom didn't even tune his Evo. He didn't need to.
The race lit through Manhattan's tunnels. Sparks cascaded from roof beams as cars slammed shoulder to shoulder. Blade's Camaro tried to box Zoom in on the second lap. Zoom grinned, downshifted, and clipped his fender so clean the Camaro spun into a pillar and disintegrated in flame.
Zoom crossed 1st again.
Level: 10.
The Evo changed. Its veins thickened, its headlights narrowed to slits that looked like predatory eyes. The silver sheen darkened, almost gunmetal, like it had tasted blood.
That night, Kendra Moss—the racer he'd just humiliated—knocked on his door. He didn't ask why. He only dragged her inside.
Her moans shook the floorboards. Other racers heard. Other racers cursed. But when she left, head down, lips swollen, she whispered to her own crew:
"I can't stop. I'll be back."
⸻
Jason's Rage
Jason Hiro couldn't take it anymore.
Every girl who looked at Zoom was another blade in his back. Every level Zoom climbed was a reminder that Jason's own ceiling was lower. His crew was fracturing. His GT-R crewmate Danielle was caught sneaking glances at Zoom during practice laps.
Jason snapped. He slammed her against a wall in fury, but she shoved him back with fire in her eyes.
"You'll never be him," she spat. "You'll never be Zoom X."
She walked out that night and didn't come back. The next morning, the dorms whispered she had been seen outside Zoom's room.
Jason put his fist through a mirror.
⸻
The Curse Solidifies
By the week's end, Zoom X had touched too many to count. Veronica. Kendra. Danielle. Even Mei, one of Jason's oldest flings. Each of them swore they were "just a good time," but every single one of them kept returning, unable to let go.
Zoom leaned against his Evo in the garage, cigarette burning, when Alondra Cruz—one of the fiercest racers in Brooklyn—approached him.
"You're poison," she hissed.
He blew smoke in her face. "Then swallow me."
She kissed him hard, and the night answered with her screams against the hood of his silver beast.
Level: 11.
By now, it wasn't just leveling from racing anymore. It was everything. Every betrayal, every conquest, every night of chaos added to his growth. His hunger wasn't just fuel—it was a curse.
And the school? It was breaking.
Foreshadow
Jason Hiro sat alone, knuckles raw, staring at the GT-R that once defined him. His reflection in the paint was cracked, desperate.
"They'll all learn," he whispered. "They'll all pay. Especially him."
But Zoom didn't care. He was already looking beyond New York. The Gate was calling again. And this time, it wasn't just about racing across dimensions. It was about spreading his curse to every world that waited.