Participants from all over the world had flocked to America to take part in the Steel Ball Run race for both fame and cash, competition flaring up before the race had even started. The famous and the insignificant who engaged in the event brought in horses, camels, and newly invented automobiles, some even using their own two feet. Competitors were allowed to use such things other than horses as long as they used the same method of transportation across the entire race.

Throughout the race, retirements and deaths are calculated, and people start to know who they are messing with, word getting around of who was who. One person, in particular, was popular talk around the racers: Diego Brando, a genius British jockey hailed as one of the best contenders in the Steel Ball Run race by observers. Many started to consider him as a rival, but you didn't know him well enough to do the same. For now, you tried to stay away from him at all costs; who knew what his true intentions were? This race was bringing the worst out of everyone already.

Finding a secluded and quiet area for the night, you absentmindedly set your tent there with little thinking, just realizing there was another tent across from yours after doing so. Maybe you could convince them to partner up with you as extra backup would be useful in this unreliable race.

Whoever was taking refuge in their tent had come out, noticing another presence but their own around the air.

The Brit connected glares with you.

Diego Brando, the man you wanted to meet the least in the race. Perhaps you could try to make small talk and make the most out of it, or try ignoring the jockey.