The next morning, he and Lukas went to a specialized bicycle shop. The club had provided him with a perfectly functional, if generic, black commuter bike. It was a tool, like his boots or his training kit. Mateo wanted something that was his.
He chose a sleek, matte-grey road bike. It was light, fast, and engineered for precision. It wasn't a showy, brightly colored machine, but a piece of subtle, high-performance engineering.
He ran his hand over the carbon frame, feeling the cold, smooth texture. It was an extension of the "Mateo 2.0" body he had just finished building efficient, powerful, and perfectly balanced.
He paid for it with his new, unseen wealth. The transaction was a small, symbolic severing of the umbilical cord to the club's provision. He was still their prodigy, but he was also an individual, capable of making his own choices, even if that choice was as simple as a bicycle.
"Why this one?" Lukas signed, admiring the clean lines.
