03-25-2016, 02:07 PM
Grinning as he did it, Seventeen shifted into the highest remaining gear as the race neared its culmination. While it hadn’t been quite as thrilling as he’d expected, he couldn’t deny that he had missed driving over the last few years. Flight had accustomed him to the feeling of the wind whipping his hair around, but there was something pleasant in controlling the little vehicle and guiding it up the rugged slopes and around all the treacherous bends.
With the race nearly at an end, the remaining three contestants were all within a few feet of one another. Seventeen knew that he was technically in second place, but the tusk-man, who had fallen into third, was breathing down his neck as they reached the stretch.
“I can smell your fear!” The bestial man growled as they neared another assortment of question mark boxes. As they came at the boxes, the three karts were all in a line, about three feet away from one another.
“That ain’t fear you smell,” Seventeen replied as he smacked the oncoming box and grinned at the object on his lap. Hammers are fun.
Before he had a chance to formulate a perfectly choreographed attack, the cyborg caught motion from the corner of his eye. The suave, smack-talking man from the garage let out a little titter as he chuckled a red shell at Seventeen’s kart.
Fuck me. The machine-hybrid swerved hard, but the shell readjusted its direction and came at him like a blurry red comet. Letting go of the wheel, Seventeen smashed the button for the driver’s harness and leapt out the opposite side of the vehicle as it soaked up the impact of the shell and erupted like a tiny bomb. With the hammer still in his right hand, the cyborg threw it with all his might at the tusk man. Oblivious to the survival of the ejected racer, the other driver remained oblivious until the hammer opened up the side of his skull.
Crashing against the thrashing body of the dying creature-man, Seventeen grabbed for the other driver’s harness and wrenched it loose.
“Tuh-tiny man not—” A mouthful of angry teeth snapped in the cyborg’s direction, but he pulled back and retaliated by burying the head of the hammer through said pearly whites and down his adversary’s throat. A beat later, he got a hand up under the tusk-man and shoved the would-be corpse out of the kart.
Shifting his body to the front, Seventeen found the gas and smashed the pedal as he eyed the man who was now nearly fifteen feet ahead of him.
Can’t close the gap in time. The end of the race was clearly at the end of the current stretch, and the vaguest outline of a few humanoid reptiles could be spotted along the sides of the makeshift track. With a scowl, Seventeen reached behind his back and grabbed the handle of the sword. His foot was already aching from the pressure he was placing on the little gas pedal, but even as the engine roared behind him, he knew he wasn’t going to have a better chance. Flinging his hand forward, he launched the Power Sword like a javelin, and while he was unpracticed, he had enough muscle memory to land a solid, impaling blow through the other driver’s right shoulder.
The kart in front of the cyborg swerved wildly as the injured driver tried to will himself through the pain. In that moment of panic, Seventeen was able to close to distance and pull his kart up alongside his would-be rival. “Eat my dust, yo!” The machine-hybrid shouted as he grabbed the handle of his weapon and tore it out through the side of the other driver.
As Seventeen cruised over the finish line, the last intact cart sputtered to a stop after its driver became a corpse.
Hoping out of the cart, the cyborg grinned as a clapping Von Koopa approached him.
“Nicely done.” He replied as he handed the raven-haired man a green shell not unlike the red one that had nearly ended his life. “This signifies your status as an Honorary Koopa Trooper. You will be welcome and accepted within the halls of our outposts and forts, but you may also be called upon to serve in the name of our glorious leader, King Bowser.”
“Of course,” Seventeen replied as he accepted the turtle shell and turned it over in his hands. Was he supposed to wear this thing or something? Huh…
With the race nearly at an end, the remaining three contestants were all within a few feet of one another. Seventeen knew that he was technically in second place, but the tusk-man, who had fallen into third, was breathing down his neck as they reached the stretch.
“I can smell your fear!” The bestial man growled as they neared another assortment of question mark boxes. As they came at the boxes, the three karts were all in a line, about three feet away from one another.
“That ain’t fear you smell,” Seventeen replied as he smacked the oncoming box and grinned at the object on his lap. Hammers are fun.
Before he had a chance to formulate a perfectly choreographed attack, the cyborg caught motion from the corner of his eye. The suave, smack-talking man from the garage let out a little titter as he chuckled a red shell at Seventeen’s kart.
Fuck me. The machine-hybrid swerved hard, but the shell readjusted its direction and came at him like a blurry red comet. Letting go of the wheel, Seventeen smashed the button for the driver’s harness and leapt out the opposite side of the vehicle as it soaked up the impact of the shell and erupted like a tiny bomb. With the hammer still in his right hand, the cyborg threw it with all his might at the tusk man. Oblivious to the survival of the ejected racer, the other driver remained oblivious until the hammer opened up the side of his skull.
Crashing against the thrashing body of the dying creature-man, Seventeen grabbed for the other driver’s harness and wrenched it loose.
“Tuh-tiny man not—” A mouthful of angry teeth snapped in the cyborg’s direction, but he pulled back and retaliated by burying the head of the hammer through said pearly whites and down his adversary’s throat. A beat later, he got a hand up under the tusk-man and shoved the would-be corpse out of the kart.
Shifting his body to the front, Seventeen found the gas and smashed the pedal as he eyed the man who was now nearly fifteen feet ahead of him.
Can’t close the gap in time. The end of the race was clearly at the end of the current stretch, and the vaguest outline of a few humanoid reptiles could be spotted along the sides of the makeshift track. With a scowl, Seventeen reached behind his back and grabbed the handle of the sword. His foot was already aching from the pressure he was placing on the little gas pedal, but even as the engine roared behind him, he knew he wasn’t going to have a better chance. Flinging his hand forward, he launched the Power Sword like a javelin, and while he was unpracticed, he had enough muscle memory to land a solid, impaling blow through the other driver’s right shoulder.
The kart in front of the cyborg swerved wildly as the injured driver tried to will himself through the pain. In that moment of panic, Seventeen was able to close to distance and pull his kart up alongside his would-be rival. “Eat my dust, yo!” The machine-hybrid shouted as he grabbed the handle of his weapon and tore it out through the side of the other driver.
As Seventeen cruised over the finish line, the last intact cart sputtered to a stop after its driver became a corpse.
Hoping out of the cart, the cyborg grinned as a clapping Von Koopa approached him.
“Nicely done.” He replied as he handed the raven-haired man a green shell not unlike the red one that had nearly ended his life. “This signifies your status as an Honorary Koopa Trooper. You will be welcome and accepted within the halls of our outposts and forts, but you may also be called upon to serve in the name of our glorious leader, King Bowser.”
“Of course,” Seventeen replied as he accepted the turtle shell and turned it over in his hands. Was he supposed to wear this thing or something? Huh…
![[Image: 17.jpg]](http://omniverse-rpg.com/images/17.jpg)