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THE CHRONICLES OF FINALGAMER The Race of the Rexes

"In business, the competition will bite you if you keep running; if you stand still, they will swallow you." William S. Knudsen

The next time he opened his eyes, he felt he was being teased once again of arriving home. Except unlike last time where he ended up facing an alley wall and in the 20th century of another universe, he felt himself in a closer-feeling but somewhat more hi-tech universe. Lights bedazzled him from every direction, waking up from the top of an apartment building to see a magnificent metropolis, of dazzling lights and roads high above the ground in wondrous spirals. Blue and yellow and red glimmered as if he were gazing upon a box of jewels. High-rise towers glistened with millions, the streets alive with a vibrant populace. Roads seemed to twist like gravel-scaled Asian dragons, the occasional twinkle of something fast zipping along it. The bustling crowd below tugged at his heart of a world familar to him, but he knew from before he had to be sure. He scaled down a fire escape to the ground and into an alleyway, leaping down the walls with a little parkour-style flourish for himself as he looked for the nearest person to ask. Noticing a bird-headed creature with red feathery crest and white body playing a fat blue flute, James asked: "Hey, what year is this?" "Wha?" "What year is it, come on, help a guy out." "It's...2563, man, how do ya not know that?" "Well uhh...I've been away elsewhere for like a year and-" "Dude, dude, it's fine, we've all been there, no need to explain it. You wanna li'l song to keep ya going?" "Sure...what is that, by the way?" "Ocarina." He then played a small tune that woke within James an odd false sense of deja-vu. A ditty he felt he could recognise but had never remembered in his life, his brain starting to feel that strange sense of awakening. He could see an image of a strange glaring mask in his mind. After a while, the busker stopped playing, the small reverie of a false memory fading away from James. "That was...pretty nice." "Thanks, took me ages to find the tabs for it. You lost or something, cuz you look a li'l out of it." "Well I'd like to know what city I'm in." "Haha, seriously? You're in Mute City, man, home of the F-Zero races!" "Eff...Zero?" "...wow you really dunno about them? What planet you from anyway?" He frantically attempted to make one up for sake of simplicity, a word flashing in his head out of all the random data. "Uhhh Mobius, I'm from Planet Mobius." "Never heard of it." "Oh it's pretty far, we're pretty new to exploring space so-" "Ahhhh gotcha. Well shame I can't show ya around, but if you wanna drink I know the best bar here." "That'd be great!" "Alrighty! Go down that street until ya find an electronic store called Markoos, then ya turn right around the corner and you'll see a real snazzy place called The Racing Bar, real famous, serve some awesome stuff." "Thanks! And uhh good luck with your music!" "You too!" And with that he left the busker to his ocarina musings while he followed the directions, shifting through the crowded streets. Already he was feeling more familiar with the place, the jostling bustle of the populace strengthening his memories, which he pondered on briefly with melancholy. He stepped into the bar.

It was a gloriously lit-up lively place, blazing yellow neon at the front with a row of various creatures inside. Humans, canines, tentacled creatures, reptiles, all of them huddled against each other in various murky corners. A large TV dominated the far wall where most of the patrons were sitting. A race was showing in beautifully fast high-definition. James stepped in, looking around tentatively as the TV caught his eye more, hearing the chatter of the group. "Come oooon Mighty Gazelle-" "Please, Octoman is gonna whup your asses eight-fold." "Uhh hello, did you just forget about Tanaka?!" "I think I did because everyone else does-" "Shut up, it's the final lap guys!" Various strange looking vehicles whizzed past the screen in magnificent colours, some bulky, some smooth, all seeming to just fly low to the ground with boosters and no wheels. It reminded the raptor of the pricier hovercrafts back home that only the truly rich could afford to keep, as he leaned in closer, gazing with wonder. Soon the race ended, much to the mixed cheer and fury of the audience. "FUCK YEAH OCTOMAN!" "DAMMIT TANAKA!" "Meh, always next time I guess..." While the race looked interesting, he needed to find a way out of this world with someone able to guide him towards his own. He stepped away from the crowd only to bump into a large reptile a full head taller than him, wearing some sort of plated armour with dark green scales. "HEY, watch it wallcrawler!" said the reptile in a deep throaty voice to James. "Uhh sorry man, didn't look." "Damn right ya didn't look, shitface." "Hey I just said sorry, if you were looking ahead you could have always steered out of the way." "...what." The beast leaned in closer with a meaty breath, but James was not perturbed, especially after what he had been through the last two days. "I was saying, maybe you got a li'l distracted too by the fancy TV." "You sayin' I'm a moron?" "I'm saying you should take a look in the mirror." "Hmph...you wanna settle this?" "Lead the way outside, I'll take ya on." "What, a fight? Yeah right, I'd kill you before you even blinked." "Well I'm not gonna blink fucker." And before he even could blink, a gun appeared out of nowhere in the creature's claws, presumably from his belt. A thick heavy-looking handgun pointed straight up at his chin. "That's what I can do before you blink. You were looking at that race too werentcha?" "What of it?" He tried not to talk too much to not show off his throat too much to the blaster. "Maybe you wanna put yer money where yer mouth is. You got a racer?" "A what?" "F-Zero, bitch! Do you have one!?" "The fuck, no dude!" "Pfft..." The larger dinosaur put his blaster away and walked away with a growing disinterest. "I guess I won't waste my time on a li'l chickenfucker like you." He was soon interrupted by James picking up a glass and smashing it in the back of his head, snarling in pain as he looked back to see the raptor snarl back. The bar started to gasp. "Don't call me that, asswipe."

His only reply was a roar and a bull charge towards James, who dodged to one side as the larger opponent barrelled past him towards the TV. He slammed his head on the floor when he tripped over the couch. The beastlier dino got up with a fury in his eyes as James decided to pull out his G18, feeling it in his pocket after he fell and aimed it at his foe. Firing it towards him to send a scatter shot of bullets across the bar, he thankfully hit no one else, including the other dinosaur when he only shot out a small burst before it clicked empty. "...ffffuck." He then decided to make a run for it, but he was soon brought down in the leg with a blaster shot, a searing laser through his muscle as he fell with a scream. "AAAAAGH FUCK!" Soon he was pounced upon by the big green monster, who started to slash and punch the raptor brutally. "YOU LI'L! FUCKING! BITCH! YOU! DO NOT! MESS! WITH BIO-REX!" "AGH FUCK AAARGH!" The onslaught was soon ceased by a paralysing shot at Bio-Rex that made him shudder and spasm with an electrifying gurgle, falling to one side as he twitched randomly. "That's enough out of you two scalies," said the voice of the bartender, a well-toned blue fox. "Yer ruinin' my bar, so get out before I call the cops." With that familiar phrase, James ran as quick as he could from the place and headed to the streets, losing himself and away from Bio-Rex. His face was scarred, and his leg sported a caustic wound that made him limp as he tried to run before he fell against a wall, much to the chagrin of the crowd outside a nearby store. He nearly collided into a pile of scrap, causing a loud ruckus "W-what the hell!?!" A voice from within came closer to investigate the raptor, who was sitting on some vehicle parts. "You alright, boy?" asked the rather portly human with a German accent The man had a bushy brown moustache that curled slightly at both ends towards his cheeks, giving him a rather imperial look. "Uhhh y-yeah thanks-AAGH...just a bar fight." "Jeez...laser wound too, pretty young to get involved in that huh?" "Some...uuungh...jackass called Bio-Rex got all up in my face 'cause I bumped into him." "HAH, you picked a fight with Bio-Rex? You're either stupid or full of guts." "Well I'm new here, everything's new, I don't even know about this stupid-ass F-Zero shit or whatever." "Hey hey, no pressure, didn't mean to get you going. What was the fight about?" "I just bumped into him, he starts mouthing off, I mouth back, tries to challenge me to a race, a RACE, seriously. So I say bullshit what are you a pussy and he has a gun at me and we fight and he shot me in the leg and I ran out..." "Damn...you not a racer then?" "Is it really that big here?" "Hehehe, if you knew what F-Zero was, you'd never ask that question. But yeah it is. I'm a mechanic for them." "Really? Explains what I'm sitting on...though this is a weird-looking muffler." "Heh, you know a li'l about mechanics?" "Well I rode a motorcycle back home, don't seem that different." "You think you can ride an F-Zero machine?" "...why you ask?" "Hahaha, no reason, come on, lemme fix you up with a medkit I got in the back."

The man gently lifted the raptor from the ground to support him against his shoulder, as James slowly limped further into the garage. Grunting loudly and gritting his teeth in pain, he was taken to an office with a worn but oddly immaculate couch to lie on, as the mechanic went to get his medkit nearby. James was surprised but thankful for such a generous treatment. "You really just gonna treat this...laser wound?" "You've no idea how often it can happen, now show me yer leg." "Maaaan my jeans are singed too-AAAAGH ffffuuuuuuck!" "Sorry, it hurts a li'l bit." He brought out a strange-looking item, similar-looking to a blowtorch but it instead sprayed an oddly cooling substance across the burnt surface of his leg. It was quite badly burnt, the scale falling off even to reveal the muscular skin beneath. The raptor hyperventilated in the pain of it being touched, as it was soon covered fully with the medical substance. "There we go," said the mechanic, "just keep off of it for a bit and you'll be alright." "Uh...nnngh...thanks...yer a nice guy." "Call me soft but I got a thing for reptiles like you." "Wh-watcha mean?" "Well, young and bright-eyed, scaled to stand out of the crowd, and I don't mean that in a gay way." "Oh that's good to know, hehehe...so...is that one of those...F-Zero things?" He looked over at a strange looking vehicle in the main pit of the garage. It was yellow and V-shaped, one long singular front shining of thick plated steel, with a large circular sphere on the front underside of its bonnet. Metallic grey thrusters shaped like thin rectangular fins were at the back, in a design meant to reminisice that of a hawk, wings spread ready to snatch its prey. "Yep. That's mine actually, used to race myself." "Hah, really?" "Mmhmm, wasn't famous though. Just a small-time racer, me and my Grand Finale. Kind of ironic I called it that." "Why'dya quit?" "I got old, took to fixing others' instead. Always had a dream of teaching some kid to take on my craft, waxing the machine, waxing the machine off, waxing poetic right now about it...hell maybe even you could do it." "Well, does it drive like a motorcycle?" "What's that exactly?" "Well it's kinda got two wheels like a bike but it has a motor." "Wheels? Boy you come from somewhere far back huh?" "I guess...well no some of us had hovering cars but that's only if you're really damn rich."

The chatter helped him distract from the pain of his skin trying to heal the wound. "Well...I think you could drive that." "What's its top speed?" "Oh around twelve-hundred kilometres per hour." "...haha, funny, funny." "Well I might be off, it's been a while, might only be eleven-hundred." "...wait, seriously?" "Yeah, come on, isn't that fast for you?" "Well my bike was like 150 miles per hour." The German smirked at the pathetically small number, trying not to laugh but soon unable to stop himself from creasing his moustache up into a widening chortle. "...th-that is...ahahahahaha, HO HO HO, ohhhh my junge, that is how fast an F-Zero machine goes when it STARTS." "Wait, they SERIOUSLY go that fast?!? They didn't look that fast on TV!" "Hahaha, of course not, the cameras keep up with them, fool! Maybe this is a li'l out of your league." "Mmmmph...yanno I wouldn't mind trying that fast though. Always wanted to see that kind of speed with my own eyes." "You think you have the reflexes for that even?" "Well I'm pretty damn good at reflexes, it's all I got in me." "Well, how about this? I like you a lot, so what say after your leg heals up you have a little spin? I'm sure my dear craft would appreciate your younger hands." "Well...sure! But what do I do in the meantime?" "Well you have a place to stay?" "Uhhh no...I just sorta arrived." "Well the sofa will do you. You won't steal from me will you?" "Pff please, what am I gonna escape in? That thing?" "Hahaha, good boy, good junge. I will let you rest up for now while I work. Maybe we can work more together on this if you have good hands for being a greasemonkey." "I fixed up my bike sometimes, I can do that." "Good! Tomorrow when you can walk more better, I will teach you about F-Zero." "Well...okay but I just sorta woke up a while ago, I'm not sleeping anytime soon." "Ah, then I will teach you now!" "Sure!" "What is your name, freund?" "James Campbell. You?" "Gunther Van-Uber." "...that is a badass name."

Over the course of the day, James listened to how the F-Zero races worked and how popular they were in this world, immensely so, universally so and quite literally at that. Vehicles from all four corners of the universe came with their own intentions of claiming the prize, with Earth being a choice spot for racing due to being the home planet of the sport itself, and the diverse environments each racetrack had. Though several other planets had famous racetracks too. He became rather fascinated by the idea, imagining the kinds of races they had. High-octane, PURE high-octane races that reached literally thousands of kilometres per hour. It made a boy's heart shudder with anticipation of reaching that kind of speed, that kind of furious acceleration he could have never imagined before, and he soon became more excited about the idea. Gunther began to list out his machine's details. "The Grand Finale. two-thousand and seven hundred kilograms, my own special WO-2097-X engine fitted with extra Psygnosis diodes for better driving focus, which integrate perfectly to the magnetic field block coat allowing a fine balance to smoothly float across the track, but when needed, also able to grip into gravity and turn just as good, without any interference to the G-Diffuser. It's not patented but I've listed it under my own name and company, Van-Uber Racing Developments. It took me a long time to find the right balance for that." "Seems different from the other ones I saw on TV." "All of them are different, but nevertheless you are right. I used to be in these smaller races called The Wipe Out Races back in Europe, then I came over the ocean and modified it to fit the F-Zero specifications." "How come?" "Ohhh it became too commercial. A shame too, I enjoyed racing around the few tracks in Germany, especially the Technical Park. I was a king there. But when the races were given to some big Japanese electronics company, it seemed to lose all the heart of it." "Ahh, yeah I know how that can go." "Exactly. Now, James, how about tightening up the gravisphere, it seemed a little slippery to me." "Righto!" Already having some idea of mechanics, he wasn't too problematic in learning the various parts of an F-Zero machine. He'd even seen some similar things back home, almost having flashbacks to his older friend Mahmoud's garage, and the rare find they had once of a magnificent engine. A time they rejoiced so much that him and Mahmoud had plenty of celebration in the back room, and by celebration, he meant plenty of sex. "James? James!" "Mmmwha?" "Pay attention with that gravisphere!"

He looked back at what he was touching and noticed it had almost fallen out of place while in mid-reminiscence, quickly putting it back into position and tightening it firmly down. "S-sorry sorry." "It's alright, but please, pay more attention next time. An F-Zero machine is a thing of perfection, it cannot afford to have a part even the tiniest iota off-centre." "I know I know, I got it. I was just thinking back to when I was in this city I grew up in and I worked in this garage." "Oh? Why don't you tell me that while realigning the FSOL drive?" "Sure." The raptor did as he was asked, beginning his story while he kept his eyes on the rectangular engine component at the back of the vehicle. "So I was in this city garage, friend of mine called Mahmoud got this awesome engine. The first anti-grav one I ever saw, a Phillips AV. Fuckin' beautiful. So we were fixing it up, feeling everything about it, working out how they work, it was a real find, I felt like a kid at playschool not wanting to go home when Sarah called me to help at the bar." "Sarah?" "My boss, and kind of my foster mum." "Ahhh." Gunther did not pry further. "Well I told her all about it too, the best thing I ever saw, even joked on how if I could fit it into my bike, I'd be a GOD of the road. If I could be able to, nothing could touch me, I'd win all the local races too! Course she didn't like me racing." "Ahhh. Yet another plebeian who does not understand the pure beauty of the thrill of speed." "Well...I don't think it was so much her not understanding the thrill, but rather me not getting hurt." "Hmmm yes, I understand." "So," he finished aligning the FSOL drive and turned to face Gunther, "what's the worst accident you ever been in, during a race?" "Oof..." He stroked his moustache softly along both ends, pondering. "One time, when I was twenty-nine, I was in the Wipe Out races in Paris, my third time there. I was racing through the old underground stations, the Metro, you know?" "Ah huh." "Well, it was more brutal than F-Zero in the sense we had weapons on the track, nasty stuff like missiles and mines, not like F-Zero which is more properly about the skill of the racer. And I remember once I ran into five mines, one after the other. I careened onto the rails of the metro and spun down a tunnel, crashing off-course, WAY off-course into a rocky sidewall. I was in hospital for eight months." "Jesus...well glad you got past that eh?" "Oh yes yes. And what about you? In fact, how old are you James?" "Twenty-three. As for my worst accident..." He tenderly rubbed his right arm at remembering it. "It was really stupid, but I had a chicken race with this guy. You know what they are right?" "When two racers speed towards each other to see who chickens out first?" "Exactly. Had a huge fight with one asshole, kind of a rival for me. I say we settle it right now, chicken style. So we got on our bikes, faced each other, raced like hell towards each other, soon hitting 150, miles that is, and I was roaring, screaming at him. Maybe I scared him cuz he turned like a bitch right off-course. I was laughing and cackling and giving him the finger like a dick...then I saw the wall in front of me."

Gunther sucked through his teeth sharply as James continued. "Yeaaaah I turned and pulled the brakes on hard enough to not be killed but...well...I crushed my arm between bike and wall, and was in hospital for like five or six months. Worst of all was Sarah at my side all like 'what the fuck you stupid kid' but she forgave me afterwards. Though I don't think it was as bad as the time I once snuck off to race after she told me not to, man that was an argument." "Hmmm...where do you live?" "Chicago." Gunther raised his eyebrows surreptitiously. He felt there was more to the raptor, but he allowed his cool-headed self to not question further. "Hmmm, that is only some hundred miles away, why did you come here?" "I...I'm kinda on the run." "...Is it because of Sarah?" "Oh no no! It's other people." "Ah, I will ask no more then." "Thanks." "So...do you really have no place to stay James?" "Uhhh...nope." "Well, I do have my spare couch if you would like to use it, and I can always use an assistant who actually knows SOMETHING of mechanics." "...well...only if you want me to, I mean I'm not gonna ask at all or anything bu-" "I would actually. You're young, I feel something about you, I like reptiles, you understand or at least recognise parts of a machine, and you owe me for healing your leg. I don't even have to pay you so it will be perfect." "Awesome!" With a solid greasy handshake, James soon began tutoring in the ways of F-Zero.