03-22-2016, 01:29 PM
Near the rear of the fortress, the groups of would-be Koopa Troopers were assembled in what seemed to be—for all intents and purposes—the building’s garage. The far wall of the room was opened up to the outside world, showing a rapid incline up the side of the adjoining mountain. Throughout the large room, nearly a dozen vehicles sat with idled motors. While Seventeen has hoping for ATVs or at least small cars with nice traction, the machines set out for them seemed like the rejects from an experimental garage. Most of them were no larger than your standard go-kart, and one of them looked like little more than a golf cart with a larger engine.
“What is this nonsense?” One of the men asked as he stepped toward one of the machines and set a hand on the high-back seat. “This is like a child’s plaything!”
Von Koopa snickered as he quickly counted the number of participants and then the number of vehicles. “It seems like we have ten karts and twelve of you, which means two of you are going to be left out of the race.”
With the words still fresh in the air, an armored man who’d been silent the entire time made a subtle movement toward two people near to him. The pair didn’t even realize what was coming at them until the blades were poking out of their stomachs. They offered a small struggle before the serrated swords traveled up their thoraxes and out their shoulders. Seventeen chuckled softly as the dead individuals collapsed into moist, bloody heaps.
The koopa officer nodded his head. “I suppose that’s one way to settle the situation,” he remarked as he gestured to the vehicles. “All of you select a kart and drive over to the edge of the garage. We’ll begin the race in ninety seconds. If you try to leave before then, you may be subjected to a very explosive ejection from this trial.”
Seventeen didn’t wait for further instructions. He spun on his heels and made for the nearest kart that didn’t seem like the brainchild of someone on LCD. With no one near him, he was able to calmly hope into the faux leather driver’s seat and secure his seatbelt. After glimpsing down at the controls, he watched silently as a small fracas broke out over a pair of karts near the other side of the room.
This time, it was the gentlemen with the swords who ended up staring down at his intestines. A much large ‘man’ with tusks snapped back the swordsman’s left arm and proceeded to bite down through whatever material the armor was made out of. Muffled screams could be heard behind the face guard as the man with the swords had his stomach ripped out by his attacker’s teeth.
All that over a go-kart in the shape of a flower? Fuck.
The machine that the cyborg had selected was decorated to look like a little wooden train from the dawn of the railroad age. The seating area was designed to look like an empty mine cart. Turning his focus to the controls, Seventeen shifted the kart into drive and eased on the gas. Much to his surprise, the toy-looking vehicle sprung forward with all the horsepower of a full-sized car. All it took was a little juice to drive the train-kart over to the ‘starting line.’ With a smirk, Seventeen revved the engine a little bit and watched as the little plumes of gray belched from the smokestack near the engine.
As he waited at his spot, the cyborg heard a voice call out from his left. “Tch.”
Glancing over, the black-haired warrior scowled at the gaudy machine idling next to him. It was little more than a framework of metal pipes lashed together and connected to some wheels and an engine. Seated inside the kart was a man with long black hair styled into large spikes. For some reason, the hairdo was very familiar, even if the scrawny pale man attached to it was not.
“Can I help you?” The cyborg asked as the remainder of the racers lined up at the edge of the garage.
“Yea,” the man replied as he revved the engine of his utilitarian kart. “Can you do me a favor and collect all the dust I leave behind?” With a snide laugh, the man looked out at the mountainside in front of them. “This’ll be a blast.”
Down at the other end of the line, one of the racers edged forward just enough to put the nose of his cart over the barren soil. Before anyone had a chance to register the subtle movement, the kart and its driver exploded, showering the nearby walls and racers in a mixture of dirt, blood, and twisted metal.
“That’s a shame,” Von Koopa shouted through a megaphone as he took a position on a small platform to Seventeen’s left. “The track is in front of you… it’s marked on the edges by little more than a line in the dirt. If you leave the course, your kart will self-destruct. In the event that you think I’m lying, you can ask the smoldered bits of the man sticking to the floor. The first one to the top of the mountain will become a Koopa Trooper. Any questions?”
Only the rev of the collected karts answered the koopa lieutenant.
“All right!” Von Koopa added as he reached for a revolver at his side. With the gun aimed in the air over the racers, he started the countdown. “Three… Two… One… GO!”
The revolver discharged, and just like that, the racers burst from the garage and onto the track that would lead them up the mountain.
“What is this nonsense?” One of the men asked as he stepped toward one of the machines and set a hand on the high-back seat. “This is like a child’s plaything!”
Von Koopa snickered as he quickly counted the number of participants and then the number of vehicles. “It seems like we have ten karts and twelve of you, which means two of you are going to be left out of the race.”
With the words still fresh in the air, an armored man who’d been silent the entire time made a subtle movement toward two people near to him. The pair didn’t even realize what was coming at them until the blades were poking out of their stomachs. They offered a small struggle before the serrated swords traveled up their thoraxes and out their shoulders. Seventeen chuckled softly as the dead individuals collapsed into moist, bloody heaps.
The koopa officer nodded his head. “I suppose that’s one way to settle the situation,” he remarked as he gestured to the vehicles. “All of you select a kart and drive over to the edge of the garage. We’ll begin the race in ninety seconds. If you try to leave before then, you may be subjected to a very explosive ejection from this trial.”
Seventeen didn’t wait for further instructions. He spun on his heels and made for the nearest kart that didn’t seem like the brainchild of someone on LCD. With no one near him, he was able to calmly hope into the faux leather driver’s seat and secure his seatbelt. After glimpsing down at the controls, he watched silently as a small fracas broke out over a pair of karts near the other side of the room.
This time, it was the gentlemen with the swords who ended up staring down at his intestines. A much large ‘man’ with tusks snapped back the swordsman’s left arm and proceeded to bite down through whatever material the armor was made out of. Muffled screams could be heard behind the face guard as the man with the swords had his stomach ripped out by his attacker’s teeth.
All that over a go-kart in the shape of a flower? Fuck.
The machine that the cyborg had selected was decorated to look like a little wooden train from the dawn of the railroad age. The seating area was designed to look like an empty mine cart. Turning his focus to the controls, Seventeen shifted the kart into drive and eased on the gas. Much to his surprise, the toy-looking vehicle sprung forward with all the horsepower of a full-sized car. All it took was a little juice to drive the train-kart over to the ‘starting line.’ With a smirk, Seventeen revved the engine a little bit and watched as the little plumes of gray belched from the smokestack near the engine.
As he waited at his spot, the cyborg heard a voice call out from his left. “Tch.”
Glancing over, the black-haired warrior scowled at the gaudy machine idling next to him. It was little more than a framework of metal pipes lashed together and connected to some wheels and an engine. Seated inside the kart was a man with long black hair styled into large spikes. For some reason, the hairdo was very familiar, even if the scrawny pale man attached to it was not.
“Can I help you?” The cyborg asked as the remainder of the racers lined up at the edge of the garage.
“Yea,” the man replied as he revved the engine of his utilitarian kart. “Can you do me a favor and collect all the dust I leave behind?” With a snide laugh, the man looked out at the mountainside in front of them. “This’ll be a blast.”
Down at the other end of the line, one of the racers edged forward just enough to put the nose of his cart over the barren soil. Before anyone had a chance to register the subtle movement, the kart and its driver exploded, showering the nearby walls and racers in a mixture of dirt, blood, and twisted metal.
“That’s a shame,” Von Koopa shouted through a megaphone as he took a position on a small platform to Seventeen’s left. “The track is in front of you… it’s marked on the edges by little more than a line in the dirt. If you leave the course, your kart will self-destruct. In the event that you think I’m lying, you can ask the smoldered bits of the man sticking to the floor. The first one to the top of the mountain will become a Koopa Trooper. Any questions?”
Only the rev of the collected karts answered the koopa lieutenant.
“All right!” Von Koopa added as he reached for a revolver at his side. With the gun aimed in the air over the racers, he started the countdown. “Three… Two… One… GO!”
The revolver discharged, and just like that, the racers burst from the garage and onto the track that would lead them up the mountain.
![[Image: 17.jpg]](http://omniverse-rpg.com/images/17.jpg)