He has a cigarette stick perched between fingertips, adorn lips slightly parted to let the thin tendrils of smoke to spread through the air as he exhales. 

It’s a nasty habit, he knows but he didn’t indulge in things much in his defence. In reality, it was only ever when he was in UNDERGROUND CLUB that he lets go, drowning into the things he can’t do so freely in public from drinking, smoking or gambling. 

Racing and fight club weren’t really his thing.

Though he gets a heavy pang of adrenaline each time he watches, making the hefty entry fee all the world worth it. 

It’s a great escape.

His nose squeezes together in a natural sentiment at the sound of screeching brakes and scrunched metal across the underground track, sharply inhaled breaths spreading throughout the heaving crowd as red and blue fluorescent lights flash against the dimly room arena. 

Another crash, another burn.

He used to feel the shock through his nerves. 

Nowadays, it’s more of a norm. 

Driving a brand new car, more expensive than most houses, down a dead end street.

It had been her fifth win this month, he notes. 

She’s a magician on the track, working the machine as though it were her lapdog. 

Whatever car she’d touched, she’d owned and make her own. 

She could turn any machine into a winner. 

And she did.

RED ACE. 

The first and only female to ever participate in UNDERGROUND CLUB and ever since she made herself known with her moves, speed and perfect curves through the track, she hasn’t been able to leave the topic of many clients. 

She’s been breaking records ever since she came in and smashed every single record with ease. 

Singular. 

One of the few who doesn’t attach herself to any sub groups, despite the discount and while he watches as she’s courted by the bigger race teams, he’d heard himself that she’d always politely declined. 

She had her own team. 

Small and humble. 

Most of them appeared older than than 60s, but it must’ve been the loyalty that she deemed more valuable. 

His eyes watch as she moves gracefully out of her car while he himself is corralled safely within the  stands, in an all black leather ensemble and a red rose on the back of her jacket. 

He can’t see her face with the pitch matte black helmet over her face.

Jeon Jungkook has tried on multiple occasions, out of pure curiosity.

That was the first rule of the underground club  —  identities of players remain hidden. 

She surprises him, practically running to the opposition as she opens the door, getting to him before the medical team do as she forcefully pulls him out of the window in an act of kindness, a true act of sportsmanship. 

There’s a sense of urgency in the way her body moves.

It seemed genuine, even with his lack of vision for her expression.

RED ACE was always tender, he notes. 

It didn’t appear to be a mannerism she received for others, or some