by Mars Dorian
“I must applaud you all — you picked the right choice.”
She was just about to summon a car via her eScroll, but Violet broke her gesture.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s early rush hour time. We’re going to get stuck in traffic and lose valuable time.”
The TwinBuilds approached her.
“We have to take some kind of vehicle. Do you want to walk there?”
“No, we will take a vehicle. And I think I have an idea which one.”
She tilted her head and looked at her Vorb.
“Laci?”
She tiptoed over to Violet.
“How can I help you?”
“Can you ask Roman Stax to lend us his private helicopter?”
Elli and the twins put on their WTF face. Even Laci was speechless, for a whole two nanoseconds.
“Roman’s private helicopter?”
Violet grinned.
“It’s traffic rush, so it’s smarter to fly while everyone’s stuck in the streets.”
“Mmm, that’s an unusual request. I have to go ask him.”
“Please do.”
Laci turned away and activated her eScroll, connected to Stax. The TwinBuilds turned their freaked-out faces to Violet.
“Wow, I can’t believe you asked for that.”
Elli smiled.
“I love it. Although I doubt Stax will agree to it. Have you seen how he treats his limo? Better than his women.”
Nevertheless, Elli shook Violet’s hand.
“Whether that leads to a result or not, I like your approach. It’s brash with a dash of classy.”
The twins frowned.
“I’m not so sure, maybe you went too far with that request. Maybe Stax is going to fire you from the Blogbuster.”
Violet rolled her eyes.
“For what? Asking? No way, and if he does, he’s not the guy I thought he was.”
No comment.
The three stood around, watched each other, waited for Laci to finish her call. She didn’t come back. The twins crossed their arms and gave Violet that Told You So look.
“See? You went too far.”
Elli sighed. She looked almost disappointed.
“Let me get the car.”
Violet frowned. It could have worked. Really. Stax seemed to be the guy who supported brash requests within reason. But maybe she did go too far. She approached Elli waving over an auto-ride when a whop whop whop sound appeared from above. Team V-empire raised their chins and noticed a helicopter with the infamous Stax Media logo descending. It landed about twenty meters next to them and stirred up enough air to suck up everyone’s hair into a tornado vortex. The pilot killed the engine, opened the door to his copter and grinned at them.
“Where to, ladies?”
46
“Forget the ride, I’m going to drive.”
Team Gold Crush looked at Bam with mouths wide open. He owned his statement, and he wasn’t holding back.
“We’re under a severe time pressure, and we’ll know cab drivers roll slow to get more money. Let’s not even talk about auto-rides.”
Trigger pondered.
“We’re two districts away from TechTown. You think you’re faster than an auto-ride?”
Bam smiled.
“I don’t think, I know.”
Whizzard clapped his hands.
“Wow, someone must have slept on a Superman comic last night.”
“I was also a stunt driver, remember? If anyone can ride like the wind, it’s me. And it’s not just me tooting my own ego, it’s a fact. Watch some of my earlier vlogs and see me turning the tight curves.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have time for that,” Trigger said, “so we have to trust in your skill.”
“Do it, you won’t be disappointed. There’s only one problem — I need a fast car,” Bam said, “faster than fast.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Fitnessy said, “that’s what fans are for.”
Everyone around her put on their question face. She ignored them and accessed her online profile on the eScroll and connected with her followers.
She spoke to the Vorb floating over her head. Made a twenty second performance video.
“Hello my fellow Fitnessies. I hope you’re watching the Blogbuster right now. Listen, I need to ask you for a favor. My team and I need to get to TechTown, asap. Can you lend me a super-fast car?”
Bam sighed. No way someone was going to give her a car just like that. But Fitnessy wasn’t finished yet. She spiced up her pledge.
“If you can lend us a car within the next thirty seconds, I’m going to train with you for a whole week, in any gym you like. I’ll pay for everything.”
Boom. That comment set the thread on fire. Within nanoseconds, her fanbase bombed her online profile with offers. A few of the commentators tried their best to stand out in the sea of remarks.
Noodle_Tarzan wrote.
“Take my car, it’s tight and faster than the light.”
SpaceBitch wrote.
“I don’t have a car, but I have a couple of bikes. You can take them, all of them, seriously, but you have to pick them up from the neohipster district.”
Wings-of-Liberty wrote.
“You can take my love, it will give you wings.”
HermannSchultz wrote.
“No, Fitnessy, take mine, it’s a FireRaze 4X, fastest speeddragon you can get legally. It’s about two blocks from your area, I’ll send you the access codes asap.”
“Gotcha,” Fitnessy said and looked at the boys in her team.
“Hold onto your eyeballs before they fall out.”
Still, no reaction from the sausage carriers.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s get going.”
She took off forward and made the boys follow up behind her like a baffled puppet parade. They tried to keep up, but they soon realized why she was called Fitnessy. Her legs were packed with mounds of horse power. She launched forward on the asphalt. If any of them blinked, they’d miss her.
“Damn, she’s fast,” Whizzard said in-between the coughing. He was already out of breath before he’d even started the sprint. Trigger was the only one who could keep up with Fitnessy. He waved at Whizzard and Bam as he passed them by.
“Come on guys, we need to get cranking.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Whizzard said and limped along. Bam smiled and increased his speed. He enjoyed seeing the crooked jokemaker struggling to keep up. Destiny delivered. Hundreds of out-of-breath gasps later, all four arrived in front of the fan-owned vehicle. The boys gazed at the car paint that stood out from the killer gray of the surrounding urban maze. Flames licked the rear of the vehicle like an unstoppable tsunami wave. The FireRaze 4X, an electric sports wagon deluxe, a speeddragon on the streets, especially when steered on manual.
“Raw,” Bam said.
He wiped his finger across the hood and felt his arm hairs electrified.
What a car.
A glossy surface leaving a slick feeling on the fingertips. If he was a car himself, his exhaust pipe would have bent towards the sky.
“Drool later, homeboy, let’s get cracking.”
Typical Whizzard comment, but he was right, for once. Time was burning out. Fitnessy downloaded the access codes on her eScroll and opened the doors to the vehicle. Everyone rushed inside.
“You used to do this for a living?”
Trigger sat shotgun, next to the driver, Bam himself. Fitnessy and Whizzard moved to the back and shared the same worry expression. Bam ignored them.
“I was a stunt driver before I was a stunt man.”
“Let’s hope your claim isn’t a stunt,” Whizzard said.
Bam sighed. He hoped this mission was the last one with the jokester.
“Don’t worry, just buckle up.”
Trigger hit the dashboard.
“TechTown, here we go.”
Bam energized the vehicle and turned the tires. The FireRaze came alive, se
nt a roar throughout the interior. Normally, eCars were silent as solace, but this one was modified. Made for noise. Whatever. As long as it could dash through the streets, it was all fine.
“The dragon awakes,” Bam said.
He turned around and saw Fitnessy’s and Whizzard’s forced smiles.
“You really should buckle up.”
He kicked the pedal, rolled the sports wagon onto the road. Vrrrroooom.
“Kudos to your follower,” Bam said to Fitnessy, “he must be one heck of a fan to lend us his baby.”
Fitnessy nodded, “I have the best fans in the world.”
Amen to that. Bam kicked into higher gear and blitzed through the street. Twenty-five minutes into the mission and he was in control of the fastest car known to city roads. Not a bad start, but it was still too early for the ego creaming, they haven’t even sold a single Vorb yet. Speaking of which, the electronic snowballs floated around the dashing car, two on the left, one on the right, and one over the car’s roof. They recorded everything in perfect resolution. Bam’s hands turned the wheel as if it was an extension of his arms. A natural in his natural element. Even Whizzard shut up, maybe because he was too busy shifting around his seat and holding onto the car interior. Bam enjoyed it. He even took a sharp turn to make Whizzard’s head bump against the side windows. A little bit of payback. He took another turn on prime avenue, when he heard a strange roaring noise that didn’t sound like a FireRaze.
“What the?”
Trigger nodded.
“What kind of sound is that? It’s not coming from the car.”
Whizzard sighed.
“Roll down the windows and see, jeez.”
Trigger slid it down, peeked out. Saw a helicopter a few hundred meters above, storming through the city canyons. Wob, wob, wob. The thunderous sound drowned every car noise in the intersection. The helicopter turned, making the Roman Stax logo glow on its chassis.
“You gotta be kidding me.”
Trigger took out his binoculars and zoomed in on the cockpit. He recognized Violet Gear and Elli Mental smiling in unison and waving down at him. Trigger swallowed.
“Team V-empire’s riding the airways.”
Whizzard sighed so loud everyone in the car heard it, even over the noise of the helicopter.
“I’m on the wrong team.”
47
A few blocks away, in another district, the one and only Sandfort University came into view. Home of tomorrow’s elite, or those who wished to be. For about a million credits, it offered a decent education and bragging rights that secured your financial future. No one was going to ask for your major, the name Sandfort alone would guarantee you the job. Whatever job you desired. Not politically correct, but an unwritten warranty.
Wob, wob, wob.
Now these college kids had seen a lot in their short lives, anything ranging from sex escapades to freaky fraternity rituals, but they had never seen a helicopter landing on their campus grounds. Especially not one with the Roman Stax insignia and those strange snowballs floating around. The sight blew away half of the staff.
Whop whop whop.
Both student and teachers from around the campus froze their in their tracks and stared. The helicopter stopped its engines. Three ladies and a guy walked out, followed by the floating orbs. The girl in front smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her freckled face, waved over every flabbergasted college kid that stood nearby.
“You guys want to see something really cool?”
They thought they just did.
48
Back to team Gold Crush.
Back to the city streets, where Bam pushed the FireRaze to its limits. The Vorbs followed the dashing car like a swarm of hornets after its prey. Their red lenses filmed the speed race in high resolution and streamed it on the official Blogbuster channel, where over forty-four million people tuned in live. Inside the vehicle, Fitnessy checked her comments. Whizzard still held onto his seats and his stomach. Bam accelerated to eighty km/h. Trigger grabbed his belt and checked the digital map on his eScroll.
“Traffic jam’s up ahead. You’re not going to sustain that speed once we reach the main streets.”
“Maybe I don’t have to. I know a shortcut to TechTown.”
“Where?”
“A little side alley before the main road. It’s parallel to this street. Only used by small shop vendors.”
Trigger groaned, wiped across the menu and zoomed in his eScroll’s map.
“I can’t find any road fitting that description.”
“That’s because it’s not really a road — it’s more like a back alley.”
Trigger moved his lips.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
Bam smiled but kept his eyes on the road.
“Trust me.”
In the back, Fitnessy and Whizzard looked at each other and moaned.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Then close your eyes and plug your ears,” Bam said to Whizzard.
The first row of cars slowed down a few hundred meters ahead. The traffic jam had commenced.
“Shucks,” Trigger said, but Bam didn’t flinch.
He took a hard turn and entered the side alley. Drove all the way through and curved back and forth. He took the angle too steep and clipped the fruit baskets of a veggie shop. Three wooden boxes shattered. Melons and oranges shot into the air and splashed back on the ground, exploding on impact. Bam rolled the car over and left the fruit carnage behind. Trigger clutched his belt, but smiled.
“I assume you’re not a vegetarian.”
Bam smiled.
“Not in this lifetime.”
He entered his so-called secret alley and maneuvered around the dumpsters and bums. Fitnessy’s and Whizzard’s faces morphed into grimaces. Even Trigger had trouble swallowing.
“Slow down man, you’re going in too fast.”
“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. Plus, we’re in a hurry.”
Because, tick tock. His speed dropped fifteen kilometers. A few hundred meters in front, the alley seemed to narrow.
“You’re not going to make it, it’s too tight.”
Bam ignored the back seat comment, focused on the drive, became the drive. He tried to keep the car under control and decided — to hell with auto-assistance. All the sudden he hit a trashcan. It tumbled over the car hood. Trash fell out and covered the windows. The windshield wipers cleared the debris.
“Be careful, you know this baby belongs to one of my fans,” Fitnessy said from the back.
“I know.”
And I don’t care, Bam thought, with his foot pressed on the pedals. Two hundred meters in front, he saw the exit out of the alley and sighed a feeling relief. Yes, they were going to make it. Except they didn’t. The rear of the car rubbed against the alley walls, snapping the mirrors off like the head of a plastic doll. The doors squealed as the back alley walls ground into them. Sparks flew high, until the path became so narrow the car was forced to a standstill. Tires turned till the rubber turned into smoke, but it was no use. The car was sandwiched between the alley walls. Bam took seconds to realize what happened. Trigger leaned back into his seat as the two vloggers in the back gnarled.
“Great shortcut,” Whizzard said.
Silence filled the car. It drowned in tension. Bam felt it with every prickly hair on his skin. This was not supposed to happen, he was sure he was going to get the car through.
“What now, genius?” Whizzard said.
“We have to use plan B,” Trigger said, “whatever plan B is.”
Fitnessy contacted her community, wrote a hundred times I’m so sorry. The guy who lent her the car spoke up, asked if the One Week Fitness Course with her was still valid. Of course, Fitnessy wrote back. She even added a week for compensation. She looked up and stared at Bam’s back.
“You’re lucky my fans are so forgiving, because I’d snap your spine for crashing the car.”
&nbs
p; “Thanks,” Bam said.
His head rested on the steering wheel. Trigger’s face morphed into strategic pondering.
“Guys, this is a situation, but we have to keep moving. Time’s not on our side.”
Fitnessy snorted.
“I’m done with your plans. Done with your ego trips. You don’t deserve to be on my team.”
She turned around her seat, kicked out the rest of the broken back window with all her might. Three kicks later, the window blew out and landed on the ground, cracks inclusive. Fitnessy crawled through the opened window, climbed over the trunk and jumped back on the street.
“Good luck, guys. You need every bit of it.”
She saluted and charged off like a marathon runner. A Vorb followed her from the air. Back in the front seat, Trigger released a sigh.
“So much for teamwork.”
Bam lifted his head from the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry guys, I really thought this was going to work.”
“Sorry up my ass, no wonder you stopped your stunt career. You should stick to crashing.”
Whizzard crawled through the back window opening, so did Trigger.
“Are you coming?”
Bam shut the FireRaze car down for good.
“Yeah.”
He followed the rest of his team and closed up the car via the access codes, not that it was necessary. Whoever could get this wreck unstuck from the walls had too much time and money to worry about it.
“I’m sorry,” Bam said to the car.
He joined the guys and dashed through the alley, back to the entrance where the smashed fruits and boxes remained. The scattered fruit pieces floated in their juice. The middle-aged shop owner stomped the flooded asphalt and waved his finger in the air. Screamed every curse word under the skyline till the last of bit of spit sprayed from his mouth. Bam ignored all of it, but couldn’t stop wondering about one thing.
How was team V-empire doing?
49
Pretty, pretty, prettayyyy good.
Twenty minutes on the campus ground, and the team had already sold seventeen Vorbs. Violet stared at Elli, the female dwarf with the King Midas touch.
She made the college kids sign digital offers as if they came with an immortality spell.