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After their registration, the participants were told to wait a week before they could finalise and organise all the racers in the different races. In the meantime, James and Gunther headed to a local bar known as The Ibis. A tiny place, only big enough to fit perhaps 15 people at a time within its small basement at the back of a house. Its design, while modern, reminded James of Sarah's bar. But he tried to forget. He didn't want to remember, keeping his face filled with space beer as he tried to handle the strange taste. The idleness was killing him faster than any drink ever could. "Penny for your thoughts?" asked Gunther as they waited in their own time. "Hmmm?" "You are looking as if you have forgotten how to get out of your thoughts." "Maybe...trying to forget about Sarah for a while." "Oh? Did you two leave on bad terms?" "Kinda feel like I have. I...I don't wanna talk about it." "Alright. Try not to be too depressed with the drink, we have your first real race soon." "Yeah yeah...do you have anyone back home?" "Only a son, a sister, and a nephew. But they will do well without me." "Did you guys have a fight?" "No, not at all, we left on good terms. Families cannot always stay together when their motivations are apart from each other." ".....I wouldn't know." "Heeey why are you getting all depressed suddenly?" "I hate waiting, I want action!" He tightened his grip on the glass. "Patience my young friend, all good things come to those who wait, you should be excited!" "I am! That's why I wanna race now!" "Ach, you should learn some manners." "I didn't need to learn any where I came from." The two sat silent for a while, music playing from afar, something monotonous to creep inside their heads and adjust to the atmosphere. The earworm slowly coiled into their mind until the song was stuck in their head, the slow jazzy music starting to just become nothing but irritating background noise. Neither complained, the neon lights confused them slightly, but they just wanted to get drunk enough to head home and fall asleep. Gunther however was the designated driver, taking his time, gauging his tolerance.

James however was just drinking for all he was worth, testing a few different drinks that caught his eye, one of which made him sneer. "Ech, this one tastes American." "What's wrong with that?" "Dude, American beer is like sex in a canoe." "Howso?" "It's fucking close to water." "Pffffffft hahahaa, good one." "Thanks, I picked that up somewhere." He knew where, but to mention the source would make him think of Sarah, who was the source. He reasoned that by not mentioning the name he already knew, the memory would shut up and crawl back into the oblivion of his mind where things would be forgotten after a while. He didn't even know how long he was going to be here, or if he even wanted to live in Mute City. It felt similar to his own world, but it also felt much cleaner somehow, so he was tempted to stay. "Welp," said Gunther after getting up, "I'm just about incapable to drive so I better stop now, come on." "Nnnngh, I can't get drunk on this shit." But much to James' surprise when he got up, he found himself staggering into the German's arms, shaking a bit from one of the drinks. "W-woah!" "Hahaha, you were saying?" "The fuck, that shit sneaked up on me!" "Which one were ya drinking?" "Uhhhh...Falcon Punch it's called." "Ohhhhhh good one, sponsored stuff but pretty popular. It takes a while to build up, but when it hits ya, ohhhhh does it hit ya." "I don' like the guy on the can...too...popped collarsh, like a douchebag." He started to slur as the alcohol raced through his body with a magnificent speed. "You better hope we don't see him in the races then, he's the most famous racer of them all." "Ah don' care, if ah see the faggot ahm gonna punch tha' fuckin' collar right shide up!" Now that the delayed alcohol had gotten him fully drunk, Gunther dragged his protege to the Grand Finale parked nearby and took him back home to the garage, ready to sleep off. He laid James out on a sofa with a blanket over him, in an almost motherly way. "Sleep well, junge James." "Mmmmph..."

Snuggling into the blanket on the relatively clean sofa, he rested up as Gunther went to his own bed. The raptor's dreams did not come, the alcohol drowning his mind in chemical sedation, as the night passed by in the blink of an eye before he woke up. Glad to have no headache, but rather with a dry mouth, he looked around for Van-Uber. "Gunther?" "Ja? You are awake?" "Uhhh yeah." The voice came from out front of the shop, where Gunther was busy looking over the Grand Finale one more time. He turned to look at James who walked in with a yawn. "How are you feeling?" "Mmmmmgood." "Sleep well?" "Ohh yeah. Last minute checks on this thing huh?" "Yep." "When's the race start again?" "In about..." Gunther gazed at the clock on the wall. "Five hours and five days from now." "Huh, primetime viewing, there gonna be a big crowd?" "Not as big as you'd think, but local races do bring a lot of attention, you might even see a few scouts." "Scouts?" "You know, people seeing potential among the locals for the big leagues. Lot of famous racers get their big break from them." "Awesome." Van-Uber finished up his examination and stood up with a crick in the back, chuckling to himself in a gasp as he did so. He asked his assistant: "You're not worried?" "Just a race, I've done plenty of them before, and we trained good enough right?" "As good as I can teach you. You have to remember you will be facing living beings, not the machinations of a hologram." "No worries, I got this." James patted the machine tenderly like a dog. "Don't let your confidence blind you now, James. They all want to win, and some of them will not play fairly." "Good, cuz neither do I. Anyone who fights fair is either stupid or dead." "And what about boxing or wrestling?" "Those are just events, I'm talking about real fights." "Alright, but don't damage my Finale too much, remember I own it. And remember your boost in the second lap onwards as well as the repair strips-" "No worries, old man, you just sit back in your rocking chair and enjoy the show." "Ach you cheeky schweinhund."

He made a mocking motion to slap James who recoiled jokingly with a dip of his head, before the two went to have breakfast in the kitchen. James hadn't even questioned how odd it was to be living with someone who was forty years older than him, in the sense that he was practically a roommate. But at least he never shied away from work, the work he revelled in of being greased up underneath a machine and all her wonderful little parts. Sure he was never gonna build a vehicle from scratch anytime soon, but he could fix half of it at the very least. Soon the week passed as they kept working for customers, some of whom had mentioned they would be in the race and Gunther took his time to study their machines with very little worry on what threat they could ever possess towards his own magnificent beast. His sense of superiority rose ever so slowly with each passing day. As the races finally began, it was sometime in the afternoon, and James had strapped himself into the Grand Finale, ready to drive his first real race with Gunther at his side checking everything one last time. The racing area was mostly cleaned up with the stands from all sides filled with various denizens and reprobates looking for a bit of entertainment. Nine other racers were beside James, who was somewhere around 8th place in the starting position, checking everything and getting used to the machine again. "Alright baby, let's see if we can make you famous like you always wanted, huh?" James chuckled at his little dialogue with the machine, remembering his days with his unnamed motorcycle. He wished he had thought of a name for it before his sudden departure from Chicago. Even if Sarah thought naming a bike was stupid, she would never have said it directly with her two handguns being named after old movie characters.

The racetrack itself, as James observed, was a dirty loop of wide backstreets that were grey like dust, as if stomping around in them would create a huge cloud of the stuff. The raptor wondered what ten anti-gravity racing machines would do to such a dirty-looking track, the streetlights illuminating the place well enough to see the curves thankfully. James looked around at the other racers he would have to battle against for supremacy. The only one he recognised was the tiger who had been in the garage some while back. He also remembered the fact he did not have a lot of grip. Soon the announcer chimed in all across the area. "Attention everyone! The Local Circuit Race 1 is about to begin! Please take your places immediately!" People piled in more frequently to the stands and sat down with various foods and banners and flags, the mechanics at one side wearing their various team colours. James was rather surprised Gunther even had team colours for this. He wondered how long Gunther had been planning this before the announcer spoke again. "Ladiiiiiiies aaaaaaand gentlemeeeeeeen! The Local Circuit Race 1 has now begun! Ten of the finest racers in the area will battle with their pure speed and skill against each other, in a series of five laps through this backstreet circuit! Who will be lucky enough in a series of four races to become the champion?" "W-wait, FOUR races!?!?" said James to himself in surprise. "And now...racers, start your engines!" At this cue, the raptor revved up his machine, readily waiting for the signal, trying to remember everything Gunther had told him in the past several months. He was finally ready to test himself in a real race against real racers. "On your marks!" He revved more strongly. "Geeeeet set!" He gripped the wheel harder. "GO!"

Soon as he heard that magic two-letter word, he blasted the accelerator with full force and zoomed ahead through the backstreet circuit, whizzing past a few racers before levelling around 5th place. His reflexes tensed up to their absolute max as he kept pure focus on the road, watching other racers moving around, making sure none of them tried to bump him. Navigating through dirty curves with a practised sliding that he worked on, he managed to sneak up to 4th place, seeing his three rivals ahead and keeping his place as good as he could, trying not to slow down unless absolutely necessary. He nearly chipped his machine against one of the walls but he managed to bump the machine away from it just in time with a sudden shimmy to the left, which also surprised the one behind him into nearly hitting the wall himself. Soon, the 2nd lap had begun and James' booster was activated. "Let's get DANGEROUS!" He blasted some of the boost into his engine, decreasing the stability of the machine itself but he'd handle that later after memorising which turn the repair strip was at. The repair strip was a rainbow-coloured strip along the road, that would repair the F-Zero's shield so long as the machine was on it. He noticed also that everyone else was boosting with him, and he knew he had to be tactful as he pushed onwards into 3rd place around the 3rd lap itself. He saw the tiger from before in his Solar Flare, smiling at his new opponent who recognised him and smiled back. "That's right, smile fucker, I know your weakness." As he came up to his favourite turn of the circuit which was where he kept sliding, he put on the grip and slid even better than before, just managing to nudge past the tiger who tried to boost through, But he ended up banging against a wall with James zooming past him to 2nd place. "HAHAHA, eat that you fuckin' pussy!" His confidence boosted like his machine as he was nearing the final contestant to overtake, putting all his will into it, shaking with a maddening desire to win, to be the best out of all these local hotshots! The persona of the street racer flowed back into him as it did back home on his motorbike, but with this much extra speed that he now got used to, he felt beyond that. He felt he had transcended into another state of being, a state of pure speed! Unfortunately, not even this was enough to make him reach 1st place, as he continued to remain at 2nd place when they crossed at the 5th and final lap. "FFFUUUUCK!" This was his first word to Gunther after finishing his first race, which only made the German chuckle. "Now now James do not get upset, 2nd place for your first race is very good." "Dammit not good enough, I wanted to be first and blow everyone away!" "You...do realise there are three more races to go right?" "...what?" "Hahaha! Ohhh poor James, I should have mentioned this, there are three more races to do! See, what position you are in will give you points, the higher the position the more points you get. And if the points that you accumulate over time are more than anyone else's, you win, even if you never hit first place!" "Wha-really!?" "Long as that guy in first place doesn't stay there, ja!" "Hah...AWESOME! When's the next race!?!" "Tomorrow, so now we give a lookover on the Finale and head to the area they tell us it's at." A few minutes later, one of the race organisers gave each of the contestants a datamap, showing in the city where the next area was. "Your next race will be at McQueen Boulevard, contestants. Check over your engines and be there at the same time tomorrow. Good luck everyone."

Afterwards the raptor and his mentor returned to the garage to take a load off as well as examine the machine, with Gunther being rather surprised by its condition after its first race in some time. "Well, other than a few dents you kept my machine neat James." "Hey, I told you I was good." James laid back on a couch imagining himself at the podium in first place, holding a trophy and whooping it up. Not that he had never won anything before, but it would be good to get something that nice. "Well, I hope you will still stay that good tomorrow." "Please, I'm a raptor, our skills and speed don't stop until we're dead." "Hah, I hope you will not demonstrate that to me boy." "Boy!?!" "Hahah, anyways, the machine is looking perfect. All you have to do is maintain 2nd place in the next racecourses and try to find some way of getting to first, or at the very least making sure the one who was 1st place get pushed back a little." "I think I know how to handle that. Hey guess what, I saw that tiger dude you were complaining about grip to, couple of days back." "Really?" "Yeah, he was third place until he lost his grip by boosting through a turn to try and overtake my slide, and he just banged into a wall." "HAH! See, THIS is what I want to show you! The perfection of the Grand Finale! The greatest F-Zero machine to have ever existed, next to the Blue Falcon!" "...yanno when you get like that, you're like some kind of mad doctor." "It's the accent, people tell me." With little else to do in the day other than wait for tomorrow, the two passed the time with watching the TV, giving James a glimpse into the media of this future world. He felt a strange nostalgia to the television of his own time, filled with useless in-your-face commercials, half-interesting soap operas, dramas that flew blatantly against various constitutional rights, and reality television, the worst sin of them all. He wasn't sure which was worse, the titles or the contents themselves. Gunther however was quite a devoted follower of a show called Colonisation Street, about the struggles of a northern region's community of people in quaint little houses, odd-looking roads and strangely blunt accents.

After trying to watch some of what he had to admit wasn't a bad show, James was finally tired enough to rest for tomorrow's race over at McQueen Boulevard. This area was more well-lit than the previous one, as well as being in a more upper-class area. The road was even specially closed down just for the racers, the fans on either side of what was clearly an actual road as they sat behind barriers. James was once again in 8th place at the starting line, and with little else to announce, the race began once again. Now that the raptor had gotten the grip of racing for real, he became better at taking chances on turns and timing his boosts properly against other racers, keeping his focus alert at all times. All he had to do was reach 1st place, or at least 2nd. Snarling as he kept control of his vehicle, he zoomed past most of the racers easily enough on the Finale's own merits, but when he obtained the boost in the 2nd lap once again, he was easily making it into third place. This time however the tiger wasn't there, possibly lagging behind, not that it mattered. He wanted to see the face of the one who was in 1st place once again, trying to boost up to the red and green racer. Eventually he did, getting right alongside him. He could just see a blunt snout, possibly reptilian, but it was too reflective to see. "So, you wanna stay secret huh? Maybe I'll knock you out of it!" He began to turn dirty with his tactics, bashing the Finale against the other racer, pushing him towards the wall, but the opponent merely pushed back and bashed him away. "UNGH! You wanna play huh? Okay, try THIS!" James then spun like a sawblade into the other racer, grazing along the machine and knocking it harder towards the wall. But it still kept its cool and merely spun back towards him, better than him. James however had anticipated this, and slowed down slightly to make it spin right in front of him before he went along to the other side of it. He gave his foe a heavy bash and straight into the inside of the track before boosting away.

Soon the focus of the race was on the war between these two, the cameras even turning the focus towards them, much to Gunther's surprise. The race commentator, who he never paid attention to before, began shouting: "And what's this?! Grand Finale and Flame Sword are neck and neck, and boy the competition is looking stiff between the two as they battle it out!" Gunther merely palmed his face and murmured: "Oy, James..." The raptor himself was barging against the other racer with a furious urge to win, roaring to the other driver who couldn't hear him through the windshield. "YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!" The other driver did not reply, merely bashing back at James with unmitigated professionalism. But James knew his own dirty tricks, trying one idea he discovered as he first boosted forwards to make the other driver do the same. His foe boosted just as he planned, and James soon nudged himself in front of the other machine before braking just as he caught up, smashing him hard against his rear and rebounding him off to the side into a wall. Flame Sword was pushed back enough to 3rd or even 4th place. "SUCK IT FUCKHEAD, HA HA HA HA HAAA!" "And the Grand Finale bashes the Fire Dagger back with a nasty tactic, boy this kid really wants to win! What kind of rivalry must they have at first sight!?" Eventually, James managed to win 1st place in this race, jumping out of the Grand Finale and whooping it up. He tried not to do it too not look a total dick, unable to even catch sight of his opponent anywhere near the dented vehicle that had ended up in 3rd place. "JAAAAAMES!" Gunther roared from behind him and stormed up with a furious twitching face. "HEY, didya see what I did!?" "ALL TOO CLEARLY! What the HELL was that about!?!" "Hey, you said if I could knock that guy back-" "By trying something THAT dangerous!?!? Do you know what could have happened!?!?" "I...I dunno..." "You could have been killed! He could have smashed you, even upended you out of the course!" "Well he didn't, and I fucking won, so be glad of that! Besides, aren't you worried about your precious machine more than me!?" "AGH! We are going home you little bastard..." After a tense ride home, with not a word said between them, he continued the argument in more private quarters. "James...as much as you want to win, dirty tactics will not help you win." "Uhhh I disagree, because oh look, first place today!" "Don't be such an arrogant bastard!" "Hey I'm sorry, but the guy didn't even get killed, why don't you think on that!?! He walked from it, he's fine!" "You want to win so much that you will risk your own life to do so!?!" "LISTEN, I'LL DO ANYTHING TO FUCKING WIN, AND IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT SARAH, THEN YOU CAN SHUT THE FUCK UP BITCH!" Gunther was confused at James' sudden rant, and it took the raptor a little while to realise what he had said that rather stunned him. "Uhm...wha-" "N-N-NEVER MIND DAMMIT, I did my best to win and I did, isn't that enough for you!?!" "Unnngh...I do not want you to think your life is less important than winning James. I have seen a lot of racers die too young. Winning is important yes, but you need to consider your own risk too. Better to be second place than dead." "...oh...o-okay, I'll...I'll be more careful when racing. I...maybe if you showed me a few moves?" "Why would you think I know something like that?" "Because...you have a lot of experience?" "Heheh, fair enough...let me show you a few less dangerous tricks tomorrow." The two went to bed a while later, trying to calm down and plan for some training before the race tomorrow. In his bed, James felt rather embarrassed about the argument they had. Not because of the fact they had an argument, but because in his moment of fury he forgot where he was. He had to restrain himself from making any noise as he weeped into his pillow, remembering that argument with Sarah. As he fell asleep, his dream became a memory of that night, starting from his exact words.

"LISTEN, I'LL DO ANYTHING TO FUCKING WIN, AND IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT SARAH, THEN YOU CAN SHUT THE FUCK UP BITCH!" The sting of her hand on his face welled up back as a painful memory when she slapped him brutally, and he remembered her shaking words of restrained fury. "...don't you EVER call me that. I took you in from the streets, I gave you a room, food, I even gave you your first fuck you ungrateful little shitscale, the very least you can do is not go and put yourself in danger without even TELLING me." "You...I...ungh...the fuck is wrong with you, you're not my mother dammit!" "I'm starting to feel like I am!" That was the night their relationship changed. The tears that were shed back then made his pillow turn wet, the whole soulful discussion coming out from both of them of how they became more than just coworkers. It was difficult for James to even truly explain how that happened, other than a combination of unstable emotions, a variety of tragic experiences, and James having only one person, one older maternal figure he could truly confide in. "I'm sorry...m-m-mum..."