Somebody behind him wasn’t so lucky. A second later, he heard the unmistakable smash and whine of a detonating grav engine. He smiled under his scarlet helmet, and gunned the engine. The readout in his visor read 2ND in bright green letters. He knew the man in first too well.That man had come first in the Europa-Titan league, the Paris invitational, and the Olympus Mons cup, and Edward would be damned if he was taking this one too. Not in his “hometown.”
Ari Sarkissian, the golden boy of professional grav-cycle racing was resplendent in royal blue, riding a top of the line Hei Long Power 3000 that he’d apparently received as a gift from theirCOO. He was adored by the fans, beloved by the sponsors, and outright hated by his competition. None of them knew Ari the way Edward did though, and if they did, he wouldn’t be nearly so popular. In fact, he’d likely be stoned to death.
Edward took the next corner the same way he took the last. Ari hadn’t mastered these turns quite the way Edward had, and suddenly the pair found themselves nearly neck and neck. Edward grabbed at his belt, and pulled out his pulse chain. It was time to get personal.
Pulling in close, proximity icons flashing on his visor, Edward lashed out, the end of the chain latching on to the rear end of Ari’s bike. Ari looked back and caught sight of Edward, and he swore he could see the exasperated look on Ari's face through his helmet. Ari reached back with a free hand and tried to grab at the end of the chain to detach it, so Edward keyed the activation icon on the handle.
Sparks of deep red energy played down the length of the chain. When they reached Ari’s hand, he jolted away and his bike momentarily wobbled. The energy continued down the length of Ari’s bike, building a static light around the frame of the cycle. Another few seconds of this, and the grav engine would start to struggle. A couple seconds more, and it would either cycle down or explode. Edward was hoping for the former. An explosion would throw him from his cycle and end the race for both of them. It would also hurt, despite the protective displacement fields they were both wearing.
Unfortunately, Edward would never get to find out which outcome would be achieved. Ari made a sudden and risky swerve, dragging Edward out of his seat and causing his bike to careen off in to a wall where it exploded. Edward was dragged bodily through the air for a few seconds, but at the next corner, he watched helplessly as the concrete floor rushed up to meet his face. Then a bright flash.
He slammed into the cushioned interior of the fallen racers pit face first and rolled over twice. Two medics immediately rushed up to aid him. The displacer tech had done its job, teleporting him out of the field before he could experience a messy death. He waved off the medics, pulled off his helmet and climbed back to his feet.
Across the room, Dinah O’Connor waved at him. “Nice turn, Eddie. I tried the same, didn’t work out.”
Edward hated being called Eddie. “Thanks Di. That was you popping behind me?”
“Yup. I think I’d have made crash of the week, but I think you just outclassed me.” She pointed behind Edward.
Living large on the screen in a repeating replay was the image of Edward flying along gripping on to the end of the pulse chain like a superhero while his bike cartwheeled through the air exploding into pieces behind him. Underneath the caption read IDIOT EDDIE EXPLODES AGAIN.
“Shit.”
Ari Sarkissian, the golden boy of professional grav-cycle racing was resplendent in royal blue, riding a top of the line Hei Long Power 3000 that he’d apparently received as a gift from theirCOO. He was adored by the fans, beloved by the sponsors, and outright hated by his competition. None of them knew Ari the way Edward did though, and if they did, he wouldn’t be nearly so popular. In fact, he’d likely be stoned to death.
Edward took the next corner the same way he took the last. Ari hadn’t mastered these turns quite the way Edward had, and suddenly the pair found themselves nearly neck and neck. Edward grabbed at his belt, and pulled out his pulse chain. It was time to get personal.
Pulling in close, proximity icons flashing on his visor, Edward lashed out, the end of the chain latching on to the rear end of Ari’s bike. Ari looked back and caught sight of Edward, and he swore he could see the exasperated look on Ari's face through his helmet. Ari reached back with a free hand and tried to grab at the end of the chain to detach it, so Edward keyed the activation icon on the handle.
Sparks of deep red energy played down the length of the chain. When they reached Ari’s hand, he jolted away and his bike momentarily wobbled. The energy continued down the length of Ari’s bike, building a static light around the frame of the cycle. Another few seconds of this, and the grav engine would start to struggle. A couple seconds more, and it would either cycle down or explode. Edward was hoping for the former. An explosion would throw him from his cycle and end the race for both of them. It would also hurt, despite the protective displacement fields they were both wearing.
Unfortunately, Edward would never get to find out which outcome would be achieved. Ari made a sudden and risky swerve, dragging Edward out of his seat and causing his bike to careen off in to a wall where it exploded. Edward was dragged bodily through the air for a few seconds, but at the next corner, he watched helplessly as the concrete floor rushed up to meet his face. Then a bright flash.
He slammed into the cushioned interior of the fallen racers pit face first and rolled over twice. Two medics immediately rushed up to aid him. The displacer tech had done its job, teleporting him out of the field before he could experience a messy death. He waved off the medics, pulled off his helmet and climbed back to his feet.
Across the room, Dinah O’Connor waved at him. “Nice turn, Eddie. I tried the same, didn’t work out.”
Edward hated being called Eddie. “Thanks Di. That was you popping behind me?”
“Yup. I think I’d have made crash of the week, but I think you just outclassed me.” She pointed behind Edward.
Living large on the screen in a repeating replay was the image of Edward flying along gripping on to the end of the pulse chain like a superhero while his bike cartwheeled through the air exploding into pieces behind him. Underneath the caption read IDIOT EDDIE EXPLODES AGAIN.
“Shit.”
Edward returned to his hotel room, which overlooked what remained of Times Square, and sat on the corner of his bed. He’d lost the last three races in similar ways, so desperate to place first that he took stupid risks to defeat his rival. Consequently he hadn’t placed, and that meant less money from his sponsors and a grand total of zip in winnings. He’d barely be able to afford the transport costs to the Hei Long Triad Station for the next race, let alone money to “repair” his bike (which basically amounted to buying a whole new bike from the look of the replays.)
He fell backwards onto the bed and sighed, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers. He was feeling low, tired, weak. His head and back were hurting from the awkward crash landing he’d made. He knew what he needed.
He got up, went to the corner and rooted through his suitcase. Tucked in a little pocket in the lower left corner, he found his salvation. Black Reflects: the highest quality you could get, taken from the burnt and shattered windows from the very first days of the Infernal Invasion, each piece cost a small fortune and was only good for one bump.
He placed a one inch shard onto the bedside table, sliced the scarred tip of his right index finger on the edge, wiped the blood across the glass, then stared down into it,
And Edward saw eternity.
He fell backwards onto the bed and sighed, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers. He was feeling low, tired, weak. His head and back were hurting from the awkward crash landing he’d made. He knew what he needed.
He got up, went to the corner and rooted through his suitcase. Tucked in a little pocket in the lower left corner, he found his salvation. Black Reflects: the highest quality you could get, taken from the burnt and shattered windows from the very first days of the Infernal Invasion, each piece cost a small fortune and was only good for one bump.
He placed a one inch shard onto the bedside table, sliced the scarred tip of his right index finger on the edge, wiped the blood across the glass, then stared down into it,
And Edward saw eternity.
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