Urban System in America

And so, after handling the mountain of formalities with a speed that only money could buy, Rex eased the crimson into the crimson beast.

It was already noon, the sun high overhead, the city buzzing with life. Classes at the university would still be running, and Rex figured it was as good a time as any to show up. Not that it mattered if he was late or even missed one entirely.

The moment he sat inside and hit the start button, the whole world seemed to have changed. The V12 engine thundered awake, a violent, glorious roar that shook his chest and echoed through his bones. The steering wheel shook under his grip, his chest vibrated with every pulse of the engine. His hands weren't just trembling… they were shaking so hard he could barely keep them steady, as if his body couldn't contain the energy surging through it. His knuckles turning white, but it wasn't fear… it was excitement so sharp it felt like electricity running through his veins.

It was insane. Completely, absolutely insane.

This wasn't just a car starting. It was a dream come to life.

This was the sound. The dream sound every boy grew up fantasizing about. Posters on walls, wallpapers on phones, hours wasted on racing games… it was all chasing this roar. And now, it wasn't just something he watched on a screen or saw in videos. It was real, alive, and sitting under his command.

In his past life, he had dreamt of this moment countless times, always from a distance. Late at night, scrolling through forums, watching clips of hypercars tearing through tracks, rich guys firing up their hypercars, revving engines that echoed like thunder while everyone around them pulled out their phones. Like any other boy, he used to sit there, phone in hand, headphones on, eyes burning with jealousy and longing. Imagining what it'd be like to just once sit behind the wheel. But that dream stayed just that… a dream. A poor kid's fantasy.

When he was reborn, when he realized he had money beyond reason, his very first thought had been to get a machine like this. To just throw it all away and live the dream. But he'd killed that thought instantly. At that time, he had no clue about the new world, his place in it, or the dangers of standing out. Buying something this loud, this obvious, would've been like putting a bullseye on his back.

So he endured. He drove things that were comfortable, things that blended in. He played it safe.

Until that party.

Seeing how others flaunted their wealth, how recklessly they burned money and pulled stunts ten times more ridiculous than this, something inside him snapped. If they could enjoy life without care, why couldn't he? Why should he keep holding back?

And now… now he was here. Actually sitting in the car. Not just anyone's car, not a borrowed joyride, not some test drive with a nervous salesman breathing down his neck. His very own.

The realization hit him like a tidal wave. Words couldn't even begin to describe it. His heart pounded so hard it hurt. His throat was tight, his breath came ragged, and he couldn't stop grinning like an idiot. It was like his brain had unlocked a secret chamber of happiness and dumped every last chemical into his bloodstream at once.

Every rev of the engine was like a needle injecting pure adrenaline into his bloodstream. Dopamine, serotonin, endorphins... his brain wasn't releasing them, it was dumping buckets of them all at once. Every cell in his body seemed to vibrate with joy.

It was overwhelming. His entire body felt wired, buzzing, on the verge of bursting. He laughed sharp and uncontrollable, like a kid who just got the world's biggest Christmas present, but thankfully the sound was muffled by the roar of the V12, otherwise, everyone would have thought he was some maniac.. His foot pressed the accelerator, once, twice, just to hear the beast snarl again, like a kid who couldn't stop pressing a button on a new toy. The vibration rattled through the cabin, through his chest, down to his spine, making him feel alive in a way nothing else ever had.

"God, the sound is so addictive."

It was too much… too perfect. His chest hurt from how fast his heart was racing, and still he didn't want it to stop. If anything, he wanted more. The sound, the feel, the smell of leather and gasoline, the weight of the wheel under his palms. It was euphoria distilled into metal and fire.

The V12's roar still echoed in his chest when he pulled out of the dealership. The moment his foot pressed the accelerator for real, the car launched. Not rolled, not moved… launched. His head slammed against the seat, his body glued by brutal G-force. His stomach dropped like he'd just been fired from a cannon.

The glass doors of the showroom seem to trembled, staff inside still staring like they'd just seen a robbery happen in broad daylight.

He couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. Not the calm, cocky Rex-laugh he usually wore, but a wild, uncontrollable laugh that tore out of him like a kid who'd just stolen the keys to heaven.

"Holy shit!" he yelled to no one, voice drowned by the engine's scream.

The streets of L.A. weren't quiet to begin with, but this car made them its stage. Every time he shifted gears, the exhaust cracked like thunder, people's heads snapping around instantly.

It was a head-turner, no… it was a world-turner. Even in L.A., where Lambos and McLareans were weekend toys, the Daytona SR3 was a different beast. People didn't just look, they stared. It was like Moses parting the Red Sea. Traffic shifted. Heads turned. Pedestrians leaned. Necks snapped. Conversations broke mid-sentence, every single eye drawn to the crimson predator screaming down the boulevard.

The sound alone forced attention… primal, commanding, impossible to ignore. The howl of the V12 wasn't just loud, it was commanding, like it demanded everyone shut up and pay attention.

A few pedestrians literally stopped in their tracks, some fumbling to pull out their phones.

A guy walking his dog nearly tripped over the leash. A group of teens waiting for a bus started shouting, phones whipping out faster than guns in a western. Even a businessman in a sleek black Mercedas rolled down his tinted window just to gawk, expression dark with equal parts curiosity and envy.

Everywhere he went, eyes followed. Windows rolled down, necks craned, even a cyclist nearly lost balance staring too hard. The car was a true head-turner, the kind that left trails of murmurs and camera flashes behind it.

And Rex? He was drunk on it. Every rev made his chest vibrate, every surge of speed felt like liquid fire rushing through his veins. His grin refused to leave his face, stretching wider every second. He stomped the accelerator again, just to feel that violent kick, the car snarling louder as if daring the world to keep up.

If he had to put it in words, there was only one. Cool. And if two words, then extremely cool.

Rex couldn't help himself. No matter how calm and untouchable he'd acted in the showroom, here on the road, Rex was gone. The mask dropped. He was just a boy with his dream car, giddy, wild, exhilarated beyond reason. The kind of excitement that made his veins hum and his brain feel like it was on fire.

The acceleration pressed him back into the seat, the steering wheel felt like an extension of his own hands, and every time he tapped the gas, the V12's roar sent a shiver of excitement through him.

He laughed again, breathless, half-disbelieving. "God… I love this."

(End of Chapter)