Chapter 342: Custom Hover Car

Xavier stepped out of the lift with Angel at his side, the card from Blackwood still sitting in his pocket. She led the way through the plaza, weaving past late-evening crowds until they reached a narrow building tucked between two neon storefronts. No nameboard. No brand sign. Just a dark glass front that didn’t reflect anything, like it swallowed light instead of bouncing it back.

They were there to get a new vehicle, and although Xavier wanted a hover car, he didn’t have a need for one since even the last hover car he had bought was with Angel most of the time. Sure, Xavier could just buy a normal car and also a hover car, but Angel had suggested something interesting, so they were on their way to check it out.

“This the place?” Xavier asked.

Angel nodded. “Yeah. They don’t advertise. You get in by referral only.”

“Whose referral?”

She grinned. “Mine.”

The door slid open before they even stepped close. A tall man in a charcoal suit waited inside, hands folded behind his back, posture straight enough to make every guard in the tower jealous.

“Welcome,” he said. ” Miss Angel. It has been a while.”

Xavier raised a brow at that. Angel didn’t even have time to introduce him. The man already knew.

They followed him through a long hallway lit by calm white strips running along the floor. The air felt clean, almost too clean, but not in the usual sterile corporate way. More like the place was tuned for comfort—temperature perfect, lighting easy on the eyes, sound dampened just enough to feel peaceful.

Angel leaned in a little. “They’re big on privacy,” she whispered. “No noise leaks, no data leaks. Everything tailored to the client.”

“Never heard of them,” Xavier said.

“You weren’t supposed to.”

The hallway opened into a wide lounge that looked more like a luxury apartment than a dealership. Leather seats, a full bar, a glass wall that overlooked nothing but a digital water garden rolling with deep blue waves. A woman in a simple black suit approached them with a tray.

“Drinks? Snacks? Anything while you wait?”

Angel waved her off with a polite smile. “We’re good. We’re here for the custom line.”

“Of course.” The woman bowed her head slightly and stepped away.

Not even a minute passed before someone else entered the lounge. This one older, silver streaks brushed through his hair. His suit wasn’t flashy—plain black, no pins, no brand marks—but he carried himself like someone used to making decisions that shaped entire companies.

He approached with a warm nod. “Angel. It’s been a while.”

“Director Hale,” Angel said. “Sorry to drop in without notice.”

“You never need notice.” Hale turned toward Xavier. “You must be the one looking for something… unique.”

Xavier shook his hand. “Something like that.”

“Well,” Hale said, smile widening, “you’re in the right place.”

He led them through another doorway that opened into a massive holo-bay. A sleek hover frame floated in the center—barebones, stripped down to its essential skeleton. Around it, dozens of parts hovered in suspension fields. Engines, thrusters, interior shells, dashboard blocks, wing plates, armored panels, all rotating slow enough to touch if someone wanted to.

Angel stepped forward like she’d been waiting for this moment all day. “Show him the custom program.”

Hale gestured toward the floating frame. “Everything is modular. You can switch materials, adjust structure, and reposition components. You choose the engine, the flight cores, the stabilizers. You pick the trim, the cabin design, the HUD layout. We don’t mass-produce. We tailor.”

Angel tapped a screen and brought up the interface. The frame shifted, rotating smooth and silent. Panels lit up across the room.

“This is the hybrid-hover line,” she said. “Drives on roads if you’re in low-zone, flies when you need it to. Strong frame. Good handling. It fits your style.”

Xavier stepped closer. “What’s the price range?”

Hale chuckled. “Depends on what you build. Could be modest. Could be… substantial. May I ask your budget?”

Xavier grinned at that question as though he had been wanting to respond to that. “Unlimited.”

“Perfect.”

Angel was already in motion, dragging pieces around the holo-frame, locking in components, swapping them, testing new ones. “We start with a carbon-titanium shell,” she said, not even asking his opinion. “More durable. Lighter. For flight control, you want dual thruster cores.”

Xavier reached over and adjusted something—a narrow panel near the rear thrusters. “Rotate these ten degrees,” he said. “Better stability in hard turns.”

Angel glanced at him. “Good call.”

Hale watched the two of them with a faint smile. “You work well together.”

Angel barked a short laugh. “He messes things up. I fix them. It balances.”

They kept working. Angel handled most of it—material choices, internal layout, engine specs. Xavier made smaller changes here and there. Tweaked thruster angles. Adjusted cockpit position. Swapped the seat layout. Picked a front-panel style that didn’t look like everything else on the market.

Angel added a stealth-coated engine sleeve. “You’ll need this. Not for combat. For privacy.”

Hale nodded. “It keeps heat signatures low. Authorities can still track you, but private systems can’t.”

Xavier raised a brow. “Useful.”

Angel was still tuning the interface, shifting the frame, swapping the engine template for a heavier one, when Xavier leaned in close enough that only she could hear him. His voice dropped to a low murmur that made her eyebrow twitch.

“Add the top-tier autopilot,” he whispered. “The real one. Not the showroom one. And throw in stabilizers… the expensive kind. I don’t want this thing shaking when it shouldn’t.”

Angel didn’t look at him at first. She kept dragging a component across the holo-grid, lips pressed together like she was fighting a smile.

“What else?” she muttered.

Xavier tilted his head a little closer. “More seats. Not the tight two-seater setup. I want space. And those seats need to fold into a bed or something. But not that cheap collapsing bench gimmick.” His mouth almost brushed her ear as he added, “We’re gonna need room. For… you know. Necessary things.”

Angel froze for half a second—only half—then exhaled through her nose and tapped the screen twice. A new module popped up, labeled with a red warning strip: Premium Cabin Expansion – Restricted Level.

She whispered back, “You want a private suite in a car?”

“Not a suite,” Xavier murmured. “Just comfort.”

Angel gave him a look that said she understood exactly what he meant. “I’ll make it comfortable.”

She flicked her wrist, and the cabin expanded on the holo-frame. The two-seater cockpit stretched into a four-seat layout with a split interior—front for flying, rear for… other activities. She added fold-flat seats that locked together into a smooth surface. Then she upgraded the material to something softer, stronger, and built to handle weight shifts without buckling.

“Stabilizers,” she whispered as she typed, “not for flight… but for you two idiots rolling around back there.”

Xavier nodded, satisfied. “Perfect.”

Angel slid in one more module—a silent climate-control system that kept temperature steady without any hum, and privacy tinting that blocked every scan except emergency codes.

After almost an hour, the frame took shape—sleek, sharp, a mix of dark metal and glass that curved like it was built for speed before anything else.

“Anything else?” she asked, tapping in the autopilot upgrade. “Because I’m about to hit the point where Hale thinks we’re building a pleasure shuttle.”

Xavier shrugged. “As long as it flies smooth and no one sees inside, we’re good.”

Angel smirked and locked the changes. “Then you’re getting the best damn hovercar this city’s ever seen.”

“How long will it take?” Xavier asked.

Hale clasped his hands behind his back. “Under normal scheduling… several months. These builds are from scratch. But since Miss Angel is involved, we’ll prioritize it. You’ll have it sooner.”

Xavier narrowed his eyes. “How soon is ’sooner’?”

Hale glanced at one of the hovering screens. “If we assign a full team and shift resources to your project, perhaps two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Xavier shook his head. “Too long.”

Angel, still scrolling through specs, paused. She didn’t look at him, but he felt her smirk. Hale turned to her, like he already knew she was about to say something reckless.

Angel lifted her chin. “Four days.”

Hale blinked fast. “Four days? Angel, no. Not even with a full crew. Not even if we pulled double shifts. That’s impossible.”

Xavier folded his arms. “I’ll pay double.”

Hale stared at him for a long moment, trying to see if he meant it. Xavier didn’t break eye contact. Hale exhaled through his nose, pulled out his device, and typed something fast—lines of authorization codes, shift overrides, emergency resource redirects.

The man winced a little when he pressed the final confirmation.

“It will be ready in three days,” Hale said, voice tight like he knew he’d just signed away his entire staff’s sleep. “But… that is absolutely the fastest we can push it.”

Angel clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “See? I told you they’d manage.”

Hale pinched the bridge of his nose. “Three days,” he repeated. “Please… do not add more features.”

Xavier shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Hale’s eye twitched. Angel burst out laughing.

“Well, if you are done,” Hale folded his hands. “Would you like to run a virtual test cycle?”

Xavier nodded. Angel smirked like she already knew he would. She keyed the system, and the holo-room shifted into a simulated cityscape. The customized hovercar raced ahead, smooth on the turns, clean on the ascents, quick on acceleration.

Xavier watched with a small grin. “Yeah. This works.”

Angel elbowed him lightly. “Told you.”

Hale stepped forward with a tablet. “We’ll assemble the real thing exactly as designed. Production begins tonight.”

Xavier signed the authorization.

Angel crossed her arms, pleased. “You’re gonna love this ride.”

Xavier looked at the frame one last time before turning away. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I will.”

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