The first day of September dawned warm and bright. Speed slowly opened his eyes and sighed. Another day had started and he was not looking forward to it.

Lately, things had not been very bright for Speed. He had lost a series of races to a bunch of newcomers onto the racing scene, raising Pops' ire with him. To make the situation with Pops worse, he had nearly totaled the Mach 5 in the last race, barely able to walk away from the wreckage. Pops had been so furious, Speed thought a vein would burst in his forehead. After the wreck, the racing commission had decided to do a random drug test, stating he'd been sloppy and careless.

'Maybe I have been a little sloppy and careless,' he thought as he got up. 'But I don't see how. I did everything that I was supposed to. And I didn't even take anything. I told them that.'

His word alone had not been good enough for the officials. However, those situations by themselves, Speed could have handled. The drug test was a minor obstacle, something that could be surpassed, and all Pops had to do was calm down and look at the video feedback for the race. He'd see that he had done nothing wrong. What Speed couldn't handle was being on the outs with Trixie and Sparky. He knew why Sparky was upset with him (trying to fix the Mach 5 while still on crutches was not the best idea) but he couldn't figure out why Trixie was mad at him.

'Guess I'll figure it out soon enough,' he mused. 'And I might as well accept the fact that everyone has a bad year. Unfortunately for me, this year just happens to be it.'

Within a few moments, Speed had showered, dressed and grabbed a quick bite to eat. Everyone was still sleeping and he didn't want to wake them. He'd had more than his fair share of Pops yelling at him. Quietly, he slipped out the door . . .

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On the outskirts of town rested a quiet, rambling mansion. The paint had been chipping and peeling for the past several years but the owners didn't mind. The more people stayed away, the better.

In one of the rooms, staring out a window, stood a dark-robed figure.

"All is in readiness."

"Good. We begin at midnight tonight."

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Speed whistled to himself as he walked. It felt good to be out in the warm sunlight, despite his earlier morning grumpiness. He felt warm all over and couldn't keep from smiling.

'Guess it's true what they say about sunlight affecting your mood,' he chuckled to himself. Light was how he felt and nothing, absolutely nothing, could destroy that.

'When was the last time I felt this way? It's been ages, I'm sure. Maybe I'll take a very long walk today, it's so nice out.'

A light breeze picked up, ruffling his dark locks and Speed held his arms out, as if ready to spread wings and fly away. He spent most of the day just wandering around Farmington Hills and visiting old haunts. No one bothered him. No one needed to. They knew who he was and knew he was always willing to stop in and say, "Hi." Speed never forgot where he came from.

Around dusk, Speed came upon the old, rambling mansion. He gazed at it with mournful eyes.

'Too bad this place has gone downhill in the last few years. I bet it was something when it was first built. I wonder what it looks like on the inside.'

"Can I help you, sir?"

Speed whirled around, heat rising in his cheeks. He hadn't expected anyone to sneak up on him. Behind him stood an elderly man, possibly in his late 50s, with salt and pepper hair and a butler's suit.

"N-no," he stammered. "I was just wondering what the house looked like on the inside. I didn't know anyone lived there."

"I see," the old man smiled. "Well, my master and I just moved here recently. I'm sure he wouldn't mind having a visitor. My name is Dimsley. Would you like to come inside?"

Speed hesitated. He had been gone all day and knew if he stayed out any later, Pops would skin him alive. Thunder rolled over head.

"I really should get home. . . Sounds like it's going to storm."

"I'm sure Mr. Shadows wouldn't mind giving you a ride to your home, sir . . ."

Speed still hesitated but for a moment only. "Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir. It isn't every day a racecar driver gawks at your residence."

Speed chuckled in embarrassment as they walked to the door. "Yeah. All the kids have always been curious as to what it looks like on the inside."

"No one's ever ventured in?"

"No. The adults said it was haunted and that the ghosts would eat us up."

"That would keep anyone away, wouldn't it?" the old man chuckled, opening the door and ushering Speed in. The inside looked opulent.

"Wow," he breathed as he looked around. "This place is magnificent!"

"We worked on the inside first. While the weather still holds, we'll be working on the inside. Could I offer you something to drink? We have bottled water and tea."

"No coffee?"

"No coffee," another voice said. "I prefer all natural beverages."

Speed looked at the man who had spoken. He had long, white hair, piercing grey eyes, pale skin, and a dark robe hanging around his shoulders. Despite his intimidating look, he wore a warm smile on his face and extended a hand out.

"My name is Red Shadows," he stated as they shook hands.

"Speed Racer."

"I'll get the tea ready, sir."

Dimsley disappeared, leaving them at the foot of a grand, winding stairwell. Speed searched for something to say. Mr. Shadows beat him to the punch.

"So, Mr. Racer. You're a racecar driver?"

"Yes, sir," Speed nodded. "Have for a couple of years now. You follow the races?"

"Dimsley does. He says you've been in a slump, though. How does that make you feel?"

He shrugged.

"It's a little frustrating but I had a good start. Everyone has a bad year or a bad few weeks. I guess it's just my turn to have a bad year."

"You're taking it rather well," Mr. Shadows commented. "Most would cry and complain about how hard they're having it."

"I could but it would be a waste of time. All I can do is strive to do better the next time and pull myself out, Mr. Shadows. No one else can do that for me."

"Please, call me Red."

"Tea is ready," Dimsley announced, interrupting the rest of the conversation. "This way."

They followed Dimsley to a small sitting room where a teapot and teacups awaited. Speed sat down where Dimsley indicated, feeling a little out of place. It felt formal, like they were in England. Dimsley poured him some tea. He took a drink as Dimsley walked out . . .

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His head pounded and Speed groaned as he sat up, holding a hand to his head. The last thing he remembered was drinking some tea with Mr. Shadows and talking. He noticed then that he had been laying in a bed and that he was wearing a white shirt and white pants but no shoes or socks. They were not his clothes. His eyes grew wide and he leapt out of bed.

'What happened? How could I not notice someone changing my clothes? Something's not right. I gotta get out of here.'

He ran for the door and flung it open, stopping short. Mr. Shadows stood there. Lightning crashed and thunder rolled. Rain pounded on the windows and the roof.

"You're awake. Come with me."

"Mr. Shadows . . . what's going on? Why am I not wearing my clothes?" Speed didn't budge.

"You'll see. Now . . . follow me."

Mr. Shadows turned to walk away. Speed remained where he stood, rooted in one place. Finally, he managed to speak.

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

The older man whirled around and slapped him across the face. It held enough force to slam Speed into the doorframe. He held a hand to his jaw and looked at the older man, too shocked to say or do anything else. A strange fire burned in Mr. Shadows' eyes.

"Follow me," he stated again, in a more commanding voice. Speed slowly rose to his feet, a hand still holding his jaw. He wasn't about to admit but it still stung.

Mr. Shadows nodded then turned again and walked down the hallway. Speed followed him in trepidation. The house was dark as they walked through it, the only illumination coming from the lightning. Speed thought about running for the front door for a brief moment. Then he saw that they were not alone and several people garbed in black robes were flanking him. Only he wore white.

'What is going on?'

Someone lit a candle and they descended into the basement. Two people grabbed Speed by his arms and dragged over to two wooden posts.

The posts were two feet taller than he was and had leather straps wrapped around them. There was enough room for him to stand between them and that was exactly where they placed him, between the two posts. They had started to tie him up, one arm to each post, and he tried then to get away but four more hooded people intercepted him. It took the six of them to get him tied up but they managed. They stepped away. Speed then noticed several candles had been lit and fear gripped him.

'This does not bode well,' he thought as Mr. Shadows walked to the center of the room.