You can hear the sounds and screams of the audience, the hum of cars. You've come to watch the races in the arena. There were quite a lot of riders, it was difficult to decide who to vote for.

The racers themselves enter the arena with beautiful helmets in their hands. You looked at one of them, and he noticed your gaze on him and winked at you. There was a number written on his jacket and His name is Scaramouche.

In the middle of the riders, a man with a flag stood up and started counting down. When he said start, all the riders almost immediately drove forward, the engines hummed loudly, and each of them took turns going forward. People were shouting and voting for certain riders, and almost everyone was excited.

At the end of the match, another person took the first place, and Scaramouche was unhappy with this, because he usually took the first place. The three winners received awards, and began to disperse, as did the audience. You were walking through the hallway and saw an annoyed Scaramouche complaining to himself that he didn't get the first place.

"Ugh... I should have been the one to get the first place. I hate that person who took the first place."

He said, tightly clutching his medal, which had the inscription of the second place in the race.