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sophiainspace · 4 years

Note

Coldwave - "always coming back to you" ~ have fun! (from Aurelia)

So, funny story… This prompt is from ages ago, and I forgot this was @itsflake‘s prompt, and made her beta read her own gift fic. So, uh, sorry @itsflake. Hope you enjoyed it anyway and thanks for excellent beta reading of your gift! :D

Coming Back To You

3+2+1. Len comes back for Mick three times, and doesn’t come back for him twice. And then, one last time, Mick comes back for Len.

Len gets out of juvie before Mick. Short sentence, all things considered.

(He learned that lesson well: don’t piss off your father on a job. He told Mick the story mere minutes after meeting him. “Unbelievable, what they get you for. They charged me with joyriding, for fuck’s sake. Can you believe my asshat of a court-appointed lawyer pled guilty to that?”

And Mick said, “Shut it, you mouthy little shit - I’m trying to stop the bleeding here.”)

But with arson and multiple counts of manslaughter on his rap sheet, Mick’s sentence could go on till he ages out of here. Especially if he doesn’t stop antagonizing the guards and setting trash alight in the yard. He’s got at least another year left of this shitshow.

Mick’ll be fine, Len tells himself from his bunk, watching his friend, silent at the window. Mick knows how to survive in here. Not like Len, who’s had to hang off Mick for six shitty months, letting everyone think they’re fucking. (As if. Len’s fourteen, and Mick thinks about fire the way most people think about sex - and vice versa.) If Mick can take care of Len, he can take care of himself. Right?

At the window, Mick is running a lighter down the bars. The past week, he’s been quieter than Len’s ever seen him, and he was plenty quiet enough before that. Every day in here is screwing with his head a little more, and not just because he can’t set light to anything.

Len saunters up to the window, following the line of Mick’s gaze out to the grim yard, where Grieg is taking his frustrations out on some poor new bastard. The guards will let him get on with it until it turns really bloody. Len stills Mick’s fidgeting fingers against the bars, lacing his own through them. “I’m coming back,” he says firmly. “I’m gonna be waiting at those gates in a year. Then we’ll both be out of here, yeah?”

Mick turns his head, smiling like he trusts Len more than anything else in this shithole of a world. “I know,” he says.

A year and three weeks later, the gates slide open to the music of a warning buzzer, and Mick shuffles through them. Len is leaning on the edge of the fence trying to look casual, but he can’t keep the smirk off his face. “What did I tell you?” he crows.

Grinning, Mick pushes past him. His touch may be a little rough, but it’s far from casual. “Yeah, yeah, you made it. Congrats, asshole. Now make yourself useful and get us home.”

Inclining his head, Len steps to the right, revealing an Audi shiny enough to melt the eyes of every shitty guard in the Iron Heights Juvenile Detention Wing. There’s maybe a bit more pride in his voice than he means to give away, when he says, “Told you I was too good to get caught for petty joyriding.”

Mick throws back his head and laughs.

As they climb into the car, Mick says, “Hey, Lenny. Thanks for coming to get me.”

Len grins. “Always.”

It’s late when Len’s phone buzzes on his nightstand, jerking him out of sleep. Even at 3 in the morning, he’s on the very edge of alertness. The habit doesn’t do his temper any favors, but it’s been keeping him alive all his life. He only regrets it occasionally. Like now.

He gropes for the phone in the dark. Blurry words light up like a neon sign above a dive bar.

Blew out a tyre.

Len pats the nightstand for his glasses. He’s tempted to berate Mick for his terrible driving, or for being out at 3am. A darker place in Len’s cold heart would just love to ask Mick if he’s been driving drunk.

Sighing, Len sends back a single sentence.

On my way.

The phone buzzes again with an Apple Maps link and an irritating animated broccoli giving a thumbs-up.

The map link takes Len to a country road just past Keystone. He can barely see against the rain, but finally he makes it.

Mick is sitting on a covered bench at a bus stop, stuffing his face out of a half-empty box of donuts. “You made it,” he yells, his voice just carrying over the din of rain on a tin roof. He sounds surprised.

Len darts under the shelter. “What are you doing out here, Mick?” He’s trying to sound every bit the hard-nosed boss keeping his underling in line, but somehow it comes out like a gentle sigh.

Mick looks up at Len with the face of a kid caught with his head in the cookie jar. “I wanted donuts,” He points at the road near his overturned motorcycle. “There was a pothole.”

“Yes,” Len says with exaggerated patience. “You’re out in the middle of the country, at night, on a road with no lights, in a storm. There probably was.”

Mick nods solemnly, like he’s really learning from this predicament.

“Is there a reason why you didn’t get donuts from the corner store a block from the safe house?” Blank face. Len tries again. “Why go way out past Keystone, Mick?”

Something unfamiliar crosses Mick’s face, gone again before Len can try to read it. Mick slides along the bench, patting the space next to him. Len sits, huddling into his partner’s warm side against the rain.

Oddly quiet, Mick says, “They’re tearing down my old farmhouse. Wanted one last look before they turn it into apartments for rich bastards, y’know?”

Len sighs, reaching out to clap Mick on the back. “Sorry, buddy.”

“Yeah.” They sit there for a minute longer, just staring out into the rain.

Till Mick stands up, grabbing the soggy box. “Bringing these back for Axel,” he says, conspiratorially revealing three rainbow-frosted donuts huddling at the corner of the box.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Len pats Mick on the shoulder. “C’mon, buddy. Let’s go home.”

“Thanks for coming to get me,” Mick says, as he climbs onto the back of Len’s bike.

Len shrugs, casual, but he’s smiling into the darkness. “Always.”

The warehouse is all but empty. For a horrible, interminable moment, Len thinks he might be too late.

Stumbling in the half-light, he hears a yelled out, “Over here, boss!” from one of the crew.

He pushes past him, towards the only thought in his head. Mick.

The rival gang have done a number on him. The whole right side of his face is purple. Len doesn’t want to see what’s lurking under his once-white shirt, now brown with dirt and dried blood. Mick is curled in on himself on the floor, groaning.

“He’s hardly conscious, boss,” someone says.

Len shoves him away. “Get out. Give me a minute.”

When the crew’s gone, when Len is alone with Mick, only then does he run his hand down the side of Mick’s face that isn’t speckled with ugly bruises.

Mick’s eyes flutter open. “You came,” he croaks.

Len’s planning brain is already spinning into overdrive, calculating exactly how he’s going to take out the bastards that did this. He’s gonna make it messy and brutal.

But right now, he just strokes Mick’s face and murmurs, “Always.”

+1.

In this business, a job can go one of three ways.

There are the successful grand heists, the celebrate-for-weeks jobs. Where your crew get out with the score, nothing worse than minor scrapes, and a treasure trove of stories to tell for years to come.

Then there are the close calls, the just-get-out-with-your-ass-in-one-piece jobs. Where you scrape out with what you came for, but not without damage.

And there are the ones that go like this disaster of a job. Throw-away-the-plan jobs. Burn-the-score-and-run jobs. Jobs where your crew don’t make it out to tell the tale… Not all of them.

As Len watches, a warehouse packed to the rafters with art is going up in flames. Of fucking course it is — because Mick is inside.

He’s burning up right along with the score, too lost in the flame even to make a sound. The horror has already had Len doubled over retching — and now he’s about to walk the fuck away. Every muscle in his body is screaming where Mick is silent, trying to fix him to the spot, but Len is walking away.

He’s straining hard to hear anything above the roar of the bright monster consuming his world from the inside, but there’s still no word from Mick.

“I’m coming back for you,” he whispers over his shoulder, and it feels like he’s being ripped in two.

In thirty years of partnership, it’s the first lie he’s ever told Mick.

+2.

He’s chained to a rail on Chronos’ ship, the one place he deserves to be.

Mick is empty-eyed, his helmet heavy in his hands.

Len says, “I was always, always coming back for you,” and his lies are a hollow echo in his ears. Like a whisper in a burning warehouse. Like a broken promise.

He doesn’t know the man looming over him. That can’t be his pyromaniac, chilling Len to the bone with that cold stare at his betrayer.

That first lie he told his partner was too easy. Now they’re sliding out one after the other, smooth and comfortable. We’re just here to steal. We’ll go home soon. This crew don’t mean as much to me as you do, Mick.

I was coming back for you.

“No,” Mick says. “You weren’t.”

In all his life, Len has never run out of words. He thought he could talk himself out of the fires of hell if he had to. Turns out, he can’t.

There are no more empty promises left in him.

++1.

He doesn’t think years exist, not really, in this time-forsaken place. But if they do, they pass. And pass. And pass.

He waits at the edge of time, on the dark horizon of the multiverse. Even if he doesn’t know what he’s waiting for.

At first he thinks he’s imagining it. Movement, where nothing has moved in eons. Light, where he’s only ever known darkness. God knows he’s hallucinated enough nightmares here, beside the twisted wreck of the Oculus that plays out a thousand lifetimes in his brain, on an endless repeating loop, till he’s at the vanishing point of his sanity.

But then there’s a rumbling earthquake, a hole being ripped in the universe, and he knows it’s real.

Someone’s coming for him.

Then he’s on the ground, and Time is shaking him to pieces.

And Mick — Mick — is on the ground with him, holding him together.

“You came back for me,” he croaks. It feels like he hasn’t spoken in centuries.

“‘Course I did, Lenny.” Mick’s voice — God, Mick’s voice — is surprised, like it was never even a question. “Always.”

Len reaches through the chaos for more words and comes up empty. There’s only Mick. “You came back for me.”

With wide, shining eyes, Mick just repeats, “Always.”

#dccoldwave #mick rory #leonard snart #coldwave #legends of tomorrow fanfic #angst with a happy ending #and some fluff #NO REALLY THERE'S FLUFF #ok and a brief bit of whump #don't you people know me by now #my fic #the flash fanfic #none of us can queue this alone

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themurphyzone · 5 years

Text

Oneshot: Lollipops and Burritos

Summary: How does a studious man with big dreams and a slacker with no regard for the rules become partners? Easy, just make your own rules.

Spoilers for First Impressions!

Seriously I loved the Dakavendish in this episode like there’s so much it’s not even funny well it is but you know what I mean! Imma stop rambling now and get on with the story!

This was it. Today was the big day. On August 26, 2168, Balthazar T. Cavendish would pass his driving test with flying colors and become a full-fledged agent of the Bureau of Time Travel, an agency dedicated to protecting the delicate space-time continuum from evildoers, miscreants, and the shadowy Marmoset League.

Agents had it all: limousines with aquariums, high society parties, stylish tuxes and gorgeous dresses, and most importantly, recognition for their efforts in saving the world.

Cavendish always aimed high in his goals. What was the point of setting them if you didn’t aspire to achieve great things? When he was young, he dreamed of being a famous concert pianist.

Mozart had been invited to play in a royal palace when he was but a young lad. Beethoven composed despite his deafness. With the great composers of history as his inspiration, Cavendish had practiced and practiced until every note, rhythm, and key signature was burned into his mind.

But he was just a small fish in a big pond. He’d competed against children who fiddled before they walked, and the judges overlooked him despite his efforts to play everything as written in the piece.

So he turned to law in the Queen’s court instead. Barristers were fair, thorough, and had extensive knowledge of the precedents regarding a case. He would help the judges deliver justice for the innocent and punishment for the guilty.

Then Queen Elizabeth IV banned him from the royal palace for life because he dared to call her out for her refusal to compensate a florist for the damages that her precious corgi, Mr. Marshmallow Biscuit Longfellow, caused at his shop.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

He refused to go back anyway since Mr. Marshmallow Biscuit Longfellow urinated on his favorite suit and he had no choice but to throw it away.

Then Cavendish went back to school, taking classes such as Theoretical Mathematics of Time Travel and How to Avoid Erasing Yourself from History 101 until he’d earned his Bachelor’s of Science in Time Travel. Then he applied for a job at the BoTT and the rest was history.

Cavendish spent three harrowing months studying for this driving test. An important part of driving was knowing the car’s mechanics after all.

And when he passed, he’d be a full-fledged agent!

Despite his nerves, he forced himself to concentrate on his electronic manual for this particular model of time travel vehicle. Student drivers used basic 2160 Tempos for easy handling and an auto-pilot to help get them back on track if they accidentally wound up in the Dark Ages.

But if he clawed his way up to the S-Rank in BoTT, he could earn enough to buy a highly coveted 2167 Chronos Satellite, which was equipped to fly in the lower regions of space while providing a steady oxygen supply, temperature control, and enough safety features so that the driver didn’t accidentally hurtle to earth in a fiery blaze.

“The Time Delineation gear is for quick trips in local space, allowing you to move three times faster than local time,” Cavendish recited. He knew the book forwards and backwards by now, but last-minute cramming never hurt anyone.

“Alright, Cavendish,” he said as he stored the manual. Sounding confident was key. “You are on your way to becoming a fully-fledged time agent! This deserves a lolly!”

Alright, so he couldn’t resist a black currant lollipop. It was the best flavor on the market in his humble opinion.

Then the driver’s door suddenly opened, and before he knew it, he was unceremoniously shoved into the passenger seat by some...some hoodlum with the largest afro Cavendish had ever seen in his life.

The world was a cruel mistress. He spent all this time studying for this moment, and the payoff was being carjacked by some greaser who thought he looked good just cause he wore a leather jacket.

And to add insult to injury, the jerk wasted his last black currant lollipop.

Dakota liked food, music, and movies. He was just a simple guy with simple pleasures. While he’d be perfectly happy working in restaurant jobs for the rest of his life, it didn’t pay the bills.

Companies preferred robot workers these days. More efficient and less costly, they argued.

Most human servers worked in small family-owned restaurants, but they’d be out of luck in a few months when the patrons inevitably moved onto more snazzy, well-known businesses.

Two weeks ago, Dakota had the bright idea of dressing up like a robot and seeing how well he could imitate his mechanical co-workers at a popular fast-food joint. It worked for a few hours, but his appetite got the better of him and he was caught stealing chicken strips on camera.

He’d been carted off to jail and charged with impersonating robots without a permit. Humanity had advanced to flying cars and time travel, but they’d never been able to fix the justice system.

On the plus side, the incident had given Dakota the idea to get a permit so he could legally impersonate a robot.

He discovered the eviction notice after he’d been released from his week-long stay in jail. There just hadn’t been enough money to pay rent and groceries. He could pay rent and starve, or he could pay for food and allow himself to be kicked out.

It wasn’t a hard choice, nor was it a total loss. Dakota was already a recruit for the BoTT, and they had many private study rooms. They called it a study room, Dakota called it his bedroom, but either way, it was a room.

And the cafeteria food was delicious.

The morning of August 26, 2168 was just like any other. Dakota scarfed down his eggs and French toast, topping it off with a glass of orange juice. As he prepared to sweet-talk Penelope the mechanical cafeteria lady into giving him a second batch of eggs, the intercom beeped.

“New time agent recruits, please select a vehicle for your driving test. If you survive today, you’ll get your first assignment and partners tomorrow. Thank you,” a bored man in some serious need of coffee announced.

For some reason, the announcement had given him a craving for one of Rita’s burritos in the 21st century.

“Yo, Penelope, that a new ocular lens on ya? Looks good. Say, how ‘bout holding a few chocolate muffins for me? I’ll pick ‘em up later,” Dakota said, leaning on the counter lazily.

“My circuitry is heating up,” Penelope monotoned.

Though she had no outward forms of expression, Dakota knew from experience that circuitry heating up was the equivalent of blushing and that she would honor his request.

With everyone scrambling to file last-minute digital work (paper had been completely phased out), the path to the holding bay for student vehicles was clear.

After a brief round of eenie-meenie-miney-mo, Dakota headed over to the winning vehicle and opened the door, which thankfully wasn’t locked.

“Slide over, stretch. I need a ride,” Dakota said as he shoved the driver—a tall man with ginger hair and thick-rimmed glasses—aside and made himself comfortable.

“Wait a minute, who are you?” the other man asked indignantly. His accent was overly posh like one of those fake Brits on TV. He held a purple lollipop in his outstretched hand, and Dakota snatched it up, much to the other man’s dismay.

He was kinda funny actually, so Dakota decided to name him Stretch.

“Is this for me? Thanks!” Dakota exclaimed as he stuck the lollipop in his mouth. Something to suck on for the road couldn’t hurt.

Then an extremely bitter flavor exploded across his tongue, and Dakota yanked the lollipop out of his mouth, exclaiming his disgust for Stretch’s choice in flavor.

“BLECH! What flavor is this?” Dakota asked in disgust. He was going to need some extra salsa to get rid of this gross flavor that had no right existing.

“Black currant,” Stretch enunciated carefully, his eyebrows knitting together.

Yeah, didn’t look like they were getting along, especially if Stretch insisted that black currant was delicious and Dakota’s taste buds were the ones that were in need of major readjustments.

Dakota threw the disgusting lollipop over his shoulder, its purple juices making the entire thing stick to the window.

“Not even gonna ask what that is,” Dakota muttered as he started up the car and opened a time portal.

Good thing he knew a shortcut, because he seriously needed to get that lollipop out of his system.

Cavendish privately named this man—no, this unwanted hitchhiking selfish lollipop-stealing vagrant ‘Hoodlum’.

It didn’t matter how loud Cavendish protested. Hoodlum broke every speed limit law in the manual and in all of existence, took bends at two hundred temporometers an hour when the recommended was just fifty, and didn’t check the gauge to make sure they had enough time juice to last the entire trip.

In the span of thirty seconds, the vehicle was caught in the powerful jaws of a T-rex, used as leverage for a sauropod to reach some high-hanging leaves, and battered by an angry Triceratops.

By the time Hoodlum finally got them to the safety of paved 21st-century streets, the time vehicle had been battered and bruised to the point of being a miracle that it functioned.

“What. Was. That?” Cavendish asked flatly, too scared for his life that he couldn’t outwardly express his mortal terror.

“Shortcut through the Mesozoic,” Hoodlum said casually, as if he hadn’t just taken them on a crazy joyride that would’ve made them another statistic to the list of BoTT recruits who didn’t survive the training. “Come on, let’s get some burritos.”

Hoodlum pushed the eject button, and Cavendish was thrown onto the asphalt, his glasses knocked askew from impact.

“Tres burritos, Rita!” Dakota called to a nearby street vendor. “That means three burritos, Rita.”

This miscreant was actively sabotaging Cavendish’s driving test with his reckless, self-serving ways. Who did he think he was anyway? Cavendish’s anger boiled to a breaking point. He was sick and tired of being tossed around like a ragdoll caught in the whimsical fantasies of a child who’d never grown up.

“GREAT GRABKNACKLES! YOU RISKED OUR LIVES FOR A LOUSY BURRITO?” Cavendish stormed up to Hoodlum, pointing an accusing finger in his face. Cavendish ignored the dirty looks Hoodlum and Rita threw his way.

Any sane person would know perfectly well that burritos did not supersede basic self-preservation.

“No, no. I risked our lives for an amazing burrito, so good it only exists in this time and place,” Hoodlum retorted. “You want nachos with yours?”

Cavendish scowled and folded his arms. He would never sink low enough to accept food from Hoodlum. “You would make a terrible partner,” Cavendish snapped, pointedly turning his back to this scoundrel.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t asking,” Hoodlum replied.

That was the only sensible thing he’d said all day.

Stretch didn’t want a burrito.

Fine, whatever. Dakota tried, at least. Though who in their right mind would turn down an amazing burrito? Literally, an Amazing Burrito. It was right on the sign.

Rita quietly excused herself, not wanting to be part of the awkwardness that permeated the air as Dakota ate and Stretch grumbled.

Stretch seemed to have two speeds: Buzzkill and Even More Buzzkill.

Really, hadn’t this guy ever heard of fun in his life?

“It’s in the manual. Page 9, Paragraph 15, Line 5. ‘A recruit may not use a company vehicle for personal use’,” Stretch quoted.

Dakota had no desire to open the manual and check it himself, but he was pretty sure the manual didn’t have every individual paragraph and line marked. He almost felt bad for Stretch. He didn’t seem to have much of a social life if he memorized everything in that dusty old knickknack.

“THERE ARE RULES, MAN!” Stretch yelled, shoving the manual in Dakota’s face.

For a stickler, Stretch had no qualms about invading personal space and breaking rules on basic politeness.

Dakota had to give the man a point.

“I know, I just choose not to follow them,” Dakota proudly admitted. Rules never did anything for him, so why should he have to obey some stupid list?

“When we get back to our own time, I will be reporting you to the proper authorities,” Stretch said pompously, puffing out his chest in a pitiful attempt to be authoritative.

Really, his spaceman suit was working against him in that regard. It looked more ridiculous than anything.

Besides, the authorities never could make charges stick for long. Robots were so easy to bribe with spare nuts and bolts.

“Not everything’s in that manual. Sometimes you gotta improvise when the unexpected happens-” a strange whooshing noise caught Dakota’s attention, and he craned his neck to see a torrent of water carrying a battered school bus with a rocket sticking out of its roof and—were those kids being dragged behind on a broken back door?

“-like that! Those kids need help!” Dakota shouted, tossing his burrito aside as he leaped out of his seat. “Come on, let’s roll!”

He wasn’t sure how those kids wound up in such a precarious situation, but their bus driver was endangering their lives and not even slowing down so he had to do something!

As he darted toward the car, he suddenly realized how cool it would be if he could leap over the car hood like some inexplicably awesome action hero.

He felt like a regular James Bond, like a jerky 1980s movie protagonist whose trumpets bellowed their theme like they were some god descended to earth and-

He felt that solid concrete hurt.

A lot.

It all happened so fast. One moment they were locked in a vicious argument, then they saw children in peril (an incredibly strange sort of peril, but they called it peril for a reason), then Hoodlum shouted about rescuing them and wound up faceplanting into the asphalt as he tried to leap over the time vehicle’s hood.

If the situation wasn’t so dire, Cavendish would’ve been more than happy to hold it over Hoodlum’s head as karma.

Cavendish buckled himself a scant two seconds before Hoodlum gunned the engine, floored the gas pedal, and crashed through a fence without remorse for destroying public property.

Cavendish found himself not caring that they broke the rules regarding wonton destruction with a time vehicle as outlined on Page 45, Paragraph 6, Lines 3-7.

Fences could be replaced. Children’s lives could not.

As they pursued the school bus at a speed that surely couldn’t be safe for any car, much less a near-totaled one, Cavendish caught a glimpse of the panicked expression on Hoodlum’s face. He gripped the wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he wildly spun the wheel to avoid oncoming traffic.

Hoodlum didn’t know these kids.

But he would still shatter speed limit laws, risk crashing himself, and refuse to adhere to BoTT’s rules about revealing the existence of time travel before it was invented for them.

Cavendish had a feeling that he sorely misjudged Hoodlum after all.

The rocket propelled the bus into a river, and the children—dear White Cliffs of Dover how were they even holding on at this point—were getting further away every second.

“We’re going to lose them!” Cavendish shouted as the bus careened down the opposite fork in the river.

“Not if I can help it!” Hoodlum yelled, slamming the gas pedal to the floor and pushing their odometer to dangerous levels.

Cavendish clung to his seat for dear life, an uncomfortable pit of dread settling in his stomach that wasn’t just from being airborne and upside-down.

His first mission as a time travel agent would not end in tragedy. He’d never forgive himself if it did.

The moment they landed (right-side up thank goodness) on the opposite bank, the rocket suddenly ignited, pushing the bus and children even further out of their reach.

“They’re going too fast!” Cavendish bit back a curse. They’d been so close that time, yet the chance of a successful rescue had been snatched from their grip.

The water churned and swirled uncontrollably, throwing all sorts of flailing aquatic creatures into the air.

Just their luck, the children and the bus door they’d been riding on went airborne and the rope that tied them to the bus fell away.

Dakota gritted his teeth, massively frustrated that they’d been so close to getting those kids away from danger but failing every single time. “And now they’re airborne,” he griped.

“Wait, we’ll use the Time Delineation gear!” Stretch exclaimed.

Dakota had no idea what Stretch was talking about. They didn’t have time to waste. “The what now?”

“It’s the Time Delineation gear! It allows you to move three times faster than local time! That’s in the manual!” Stretch exclaimed, pulling a lever through a series of ninety-degree turns. A strange power surrounded the time vehicle, bringing everything to a near-complete standstill while Dakota maintained their rapid speed.

Water stood still, animals were suspended in their movement, and the children and door hovered in midair without being subject to gravity.

It was incredible.

If Stretch hadn’t memorized that manual, neither of them would have known about the Time Delineation gear and the children’s lives would be in even greater jeopardy.

When all was said and done, maybe Dakota could borrow Stretch’s manual and see if anything else in there would be useful.

If Stretch was willing to forgive him for the whole burrito thing, that is.

“Whoo-hoo!” Stretch yelled. “We’re actually driving on water!”

Huh. So Stretch could smile after all. Who knew? He looked good.

“Bet that wasn’t in your manual!” Dakota exclaimed.

He leaned forward, giving the car one last burst of speed before they went airborne a second time. The underside of the bus door hit the windshield, and he and Stretch held the door in place with their fingertips. The two children, a boy with an overly-large backpack and a girl with flaming red hair, had frightened expressions on their faces but seemed physically unharmed.

How two elementary-age children wound up in this situation, he had no idea.

Stretch pulled the Time Delineation gear back into its previous position with his free hand, and the timeflow went back to normal.

The rocket finally burned out, thank goodness.

Driving was harder with just one hand, and Dakota nearly rammed into the back of the stopped school bus in front of the elementary school. He was just glad the student driver cars had excellent brakes.

The momentum of their sudden stop caused the children to fly off the windshield and into the safety of the bus, the door slamming shut into place behind them.

Once Dakota and Stretch recovered from nearly hitting the windshield themselves, they sighed in relief.

The return trip to 2168 had been awkward, to say the least. Whether Hoodlum drove at normal speed because he wanted to or because the poor car suffered enough abuse, Cavendish had no clue. After Hoodlum’s reckless yet heroic driving, Cavendish decided to hold his tongue for once and make plans for the imminent future.

Cavendish knew he didn’t have the best track record when it came to working with others. Back when he played piano, he never worked well with an accompanist. Too often those sessions devolved into a screaming match over tempo and dynamics. He’d cultivated a reputation for being uptight and obnoxious in the barrister community.

It would be difficult to work with someone he didn’t know, but he supposed he’d manage. They would just be work partners after all. Their work and personal lives would never intersect.

He was just thankful that the vehicle maintenance department didn’t ask too many questions about the battered state of the car. Apparently, many student driving cars didn’t survive the BoTT driving tests and wound up being used for scrap metal to build cheap robots.

The next day, Cavendish was called into Mr. Block’s office to meet his new partner. Cavendish had passed his test with flying colors. He was lucky they scored him based on how alive he was rather than what he did on the road. If anyone thought to check the vehicle records, they would’ve been horrified by what Hoodlum put the car through. And Cavendish would’ve likely been mistaken for an accomplice.

“Okay, let’s see what we got here,” Mr. Block grunted as Cavendish walked into his office. Cavendish’s heart raced, and he wrung his hands while Mr. Block looked over the official document that stated who Cavendish’s new partner would be. “Recruit number 68427, Cavendish. This is your new partner, Vinnie Dakota.”

A figure stood up from the plush chair in front of Mr. Block’s desk, and Cavendish froze. That afro and leather jacket would forever be burned into his memory.

“Hoo boy,” Hoo-no, his name was Dakota, Cavendish reminded himself. As in North Dakota and South Dakota. Dakota rubbed the back of his head, avoiding Cavendish’s eyes.

“It’s you!” Cavendish gasped.

Fate sure loved her irony.

But Cavendish derived some satisfaction from knowing this was just as awkward for Dakota as it was for him.

Dakota was completely stunned, his eyes flickering between Cavendish and Mr. Block.

A bubble of anger rose up. How dare Dakota show his face here, how dare he act like he didn’t endanger their lives, how dare he pretend saving two kids was nothing, because that was the most courageous act of foolishness Cavendish had ever seen in his life.

“Wait a minute, do you two know each other?” Mr. Block asked suspiciously as Dakota stared at Cavendish as if expecting a tirade on how he would never work willingly with someone who breaks speed limits just because they couldn’t control their hunger.

Cavendish threatened to report Dakota to the proper authorities, and he was always a man of his word.

“Here it comes,” Dakota muttered, resigned to his fate.

“I’ll tell you exactly what I know about this man,” Cavendish said.

There were a million things Stretch could say that would incriminate Dakota right then and there.

Sabotaging a new recruit.

Taking an unauthorized trip through the timestream with a company-owned vehicle.

Using the company-owned vehicle for personal reasons.

Stealing his favorite lollipop.

Reckless driving.

Dakota normally didn’t give a second thought to his rulebreaking, but geez, he was feeling lower than a discarded piece of gum on a leather boot for dragging along an innocent man who could potentially do great things in his future.

“When someone is in trouble, he’s a good man to have around. Balthazar Cavendish, pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,” Stretch said, extending his hand in a formal greeting.

Shocked by Stre-Cavendish’s formality and calm but respectful tone, Dakota stared at the offered hand for several tense seconds before finally grasping it in a firm handshake.

Dakota wasn’t usually forgiven so easily, and Cavendish most definitely struck him as the type to hold a grudge. Still, it beat getting into trouble with the authorities.

On another note, didn’t he see that old surname on bananas at the grocery store?

“Pleased as well. And thanks,” Dakota finally managed.

“Don’t mention it,” Cavendish replied.

“I won’t,” Dakota grinned.

“Though I might,” Cavendish said, his eyes narrowing. “Later.”

Dakota had no doubt that his new partner would indeed follow up on that threat. “I’m sure you will.”

By this point, their handshake was less of a handshake and more just rhythmically moving their arms up and down together.

“Whatever. Get out of my office,” Mr. Block snapped.

Unwilling to be on the receiving end of Mr. Block’s wrath on the first day, they hurried out and the door automatically closed behind them.

“So, partner. What kinda mission do ya think they’re gonna send us on?” Dakota asked. They passed by a secretary’s desk, and Dakota discreetly snagged a cotton candy lollipop from the jar left conveniently on the side.

“Well, I believe they’d start us off with reviewing old cases,” Cavendish mused. “It would help us learn the patterns, see which areas of time require more of a presence, and help us catch the perpetrators who dare mess with the planet and its inhabitants. Which would include evil scientists bent on misusing the field of discovery for nefarious purposes, hunters intending to swipe the most valuable objects in history, and worst of all-”

Cavendish snatched the unwrapped cotton candy lollipop out of Dakota’s hand, stuck it in his mouth, pulled it out, and stuck it on the window behind him in one smooth flourish.

The man was so smooth at revenge.

Dakota felt a light tap along his jaw, and belatedly he realized Cavendish had closed his mouth for him because he was too stunned to do it himself.

“-lollipop thieves who revel in stealing and wasting other people’s favorite food,” Cavendish smirked. “I believe I said I’d mention it later. Don’t look so flabbergasted, man.”

“You are one petty stickler, Cavendish.”

“And you are a reckless hoodlum, Dakota.”

“Square.”

“Carjacker.”

“Stick up your butt.”

“Scoundrel.”

And that’s how Dakota knew it would be the dawn of a beautiful partnership.

#milo murphy's law #balthazar cavendish #vinnie dakota #dakavendish #mml spoilers #fanfiction #oneshot

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into-september · 4 years

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NO. 6 mysteries

I just felt myself wanting to read the novels over again, just to see how much of the setting was ever fleshed out. The anime doesn’t go into it and neither does the manga, but the novels at least explained where NO. 6 proper was getting its food and resources from. The novels never paid much attention to worldbuilding either, but I have some hope that at least a couple of them might be elaborated upon, just a bit.

Where is the West Block getting its supplies? You could possibly make the case that they’re growing their own food, despite the fact that IIRC it’s mentioned at some point that the land is completely barren (this is how the anime depicts it, too). That still leaves out the fact that they’ve got some degree of functional electricity grid - I doubt that the theatre is lighted by candles, and Rikiga is printing stuff. I’m thinking that petrol-based generators is the most likely answer, but that, in turn, poses the extremely potent question of where the hell are they getting refined petroleum from. See also: Nezumi’s kerosene heater.

Also they’ve got a lot of fairly advanced technology? Guns, printing presses, goggles, Nezumi’s micro-bombs. Nezumi’s life-life mice robots that he built himself because who needs degrees in robotics and programming when you can be a savant child genius. FFS, those robot mice are shown to have a more advanced AI than the robots we’ve seen in by the city. Forget about medical experiments or whatever it was they wanted him for, programming was clearly the real reason they needed him. The programming he must’ve been doing without access to computers. But that gigantic plot hole aside - where’s the technology and the know-how and supplies for using it coming from?

More to the point, where is Nezumi getting his running water? I feel like Shion would’ve made a point out of it if he had to do his business in an outhouse and spend half the day carrying water to have his showers.

How does Inukashi know how to write and read? And how is the West Block supplying papers for her notes to Shion and for Rikiga’s porn mags?

What’s the deal with the cave people? The anime never went into it, but I’m pretty sure the novels said that the NO. 6 authorities knew there were people living in caves under the correctional facility or w/e and somehow being perfectly fine with it because they sure can kill ordinary citizens who get too nosy, but not the guy who’s been presumed dead for a decade? Sure. Whatever. The real question is: If these people never leave the caves, what are they eating and what are they doing with their time. Also, whatever is enough to keep an entire community of people down there instead of going above ground must be some epic cult-ish brainwashing and I just made myself feel terrible about Nezumi having spent years of his childhood there. Yikes.

Let’s talk about the parts of NO. 6 proper that aren’t Chronos and Lost Town The manga depicts the city as tiny and the anime as rather larger, but neither of them ever talk about anything else than where Shion lived. We know that Chronos was for The Elite™ and that Lost Town was for the rabble they couldn’t justifiably kick out of the city, but that means that there is at least one entire class of people, probably making up the main bulk of the population, serving as some sort of middle class. And except for a couple of one-scene characters presumably belonging to it (salad guy taken by the first bee, Safu’s grandma’s nurse), nothing what so ever is said about them and their lives.

Where did Nezumi learn to drive a car FFS. What, did he sneak into NO. 6 and steal cars to go on joyrides?

...

brb writing that fic

#no. 6 #blah #storytelling

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postgamecontent · 6 years

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The RPGs of the Super NES Classic #3: Secret of Mana

Original Release Date: August 6, 1993

Original Hardware: Nintendo Super Famicom

Developer/Publisher: Square Enix

Nintendo's 16-bit hardware had a lot of great action-RPGs, but perhaps none were as significant as Square's Secret of Mana. This was particularly the case in the West, where Japanese action-RPGs hadn't caught on quite as they had in Japan. The action-RPG label has always been a fuzzy one, with most of the games in the genre leaning pretty hard on one part of the label or the other. For many a player in the West, however, Secret of Mana was one of the first such games out of Japan that felt like it could satisfy both RPG fans and action game fans in equal measures. It also got considerable promotional support from Nintendo, which surely helped the game find its way into the hands of many young players. Adding to its legend is the fact that Square was never really able to make another game in the series that had the same appeal. With no rights issues holding it back, it's easy to see why Secret of Mana was chosen to carry the action-RPG flag for the Super NES Classic.

This is the first follow-up to Seiken Densetsu, otherwise known as Final Fantasy Adventure, Mystic Quest, Sword of Mana, and Adventures of Mana in its various forms. Secret of Mana is somewhat infamous for its tumultuous development, most notably its late shift from being a Super NES CD-ROM game to having to fit on just a regular cartridge. Apparently, a great deal had to be cut from the game and as a result, the final product feels a bit disjointed and buggy at times. Of course, this shift was only necessary due to Nintendo deciding not to pursue their plans for a CD-ROM add-on. While you obviously won't hear any official word about it, I've heard rumors to the effect that the debacle around Secret of Mana was one of the reasons why Square jumped ship from their previous Nintendo-exclusive status. Still, in spite of all that, Secret of Mana is a really enjoyable game, with a unique feel all of its own.

Or perhaps I should say "because of all of that"? I think I've mentioned before on this site that I believe the reason why Secret of Mana is the crowd-pleaser that it is comes down to those required cuts. Series creator Koichi Ishii is a developer along the lines of his former co-worker Akitoshi Kawazu. He favors ambitious ideas and doesn't seem all that interested in being tied down by the conventions of the genres he works in. Like with Kawazu, this has resulted in most of Ishii's works being love-or-hate affairs. He's even had his name attached to some genuine clunkers. His most widely-appreciated game is Secret of Mana. I can't imagine it's a coincidence that it's also the game where he had the least amount of freedom to pursue his ambitions.

Thanks to those restrictions, Secret of Mana ended up being not much more complicated than the Game Boy game that spawned the series. It's a much bigger game, and the presentation obviously blows its Game Boy predecessor away, but the weird and woolly sub-systems that would come to characterize the Mana brand are in short supply here. You can move around and attack with your weapon, charge up for a stronger attack, and cast magic or use items from a menu. Most of the weapons have a secondary use for navigating the world, and each weapon levels up individually as you vanquish foes with it. Magic similarly becomes more powerful the more times you use it. This probably sounds a lot like the much-maligned Final Fantasy 2, but the system isn't quite as broken here. Unfortunately, you'll probably still want to sink some time into grinding levels, particularly for magic spells. One nice point is that the weapons actually change form as you level them up. You only need to get each weapon type once.

One big change is that rather than playing as one character with a rotating guest controlled by the computer, you'll end up with a permanent three-character party. You can only control one of them at a time, of course, while a fairly stupid AI controls the other two. If you happen to have a couple of friends, a couple of extra controllers, and a SNES multitap, you can swap out that silly AI for some real humans. Square did this sort of thing from time to time in the 16-bit era, and while I'm not sure they really thought of it as more than a fun extra, it ended up being a major point in Secret of Mana's favor. People with multitaps were few and far between, but you could at least enjoy the two-player mode even if you didn't have one or know someone who had one. For its time, Secret of Mana was one of the best multiplayer RPGs you could find. The Super NES Classic unfortunately preserves that "missing third player" experience, but it's still a good time.

Truth be told, though, I think the game is a little too long and leisurely to play through completely with other players. Pulling your friend in for a boss fight is a good time, but it's not quite the same joyride when you're just parking yourself outside of a town, casting magic to raise levels. If you were a kid with a brother or sister who maintained a similar schedule to yours and liked playing this kind of game, then you were set. Otherwise, it's a fun thing to do now and then but you'll be thankful that it's basically drop in and drop out. I remember the first time I beat the game, I did it with a friend controlling the Sprite. In hindsight, that was definitely the easiest way to tackle that tricky situation. The computer AI really isn't up to doing what needs to be done in that particular fight.

There are a lot of weird moments in Secret of Mana that help lend it its flavor. I've written elsewhere before about the bizarre out-of-nowhere appearance of Santa Claus partway through the game, and while that's about as strange as the game gets, there's nevertheless a lot of instances of similarly unexpected gags and references. I remember finding out from a magazine that the possessed books that populated one dungeon had a small chance of flipping open to a naked woman and being shocked that Nintendo didn't force that to be removed from the English version. There are a couple of mysterious faces carved into the world map that don't have any explanation. Then there's the Ancient City, which flips your whole image of the game's setting upside-down. You go to the Moon, you travel by cannons, and you visit an island that sits on the back of a giant turtle. It's all very quirky, if a little scatter-shot in its tone.

The game on the whole is just as patchy as its eccentricities. It does a lot of things well. The variety of locales lends the game the feeling of a true adventure. The selection of weapons gives you some interesting combat options, and it's really satisfying when you land a solid blow on an enemy and thwack them into oblivion. The story may not flow well but it's interesting enough in the moment. At the same time, there are definitely areas that feel like they needed more thought. Having the player charge up an attack only serves to lengthen combat artificially, and when that attack misses because of the dubious collision detection, it's quite frustrating. The translation was done in a hurry and it shows. The game is very terse, and there's little room for proper characterization. The computer AI isn't up to snuff in many situations, which can be frustrating. There are bugs a-plenty, and there are plenty of places where you can feel the editing scissors in action.

Happily, the good parts of the game handily outweigh the minor annoyances. I don't find Secret of Mana nearly as interesting as some of Koichi Ishii's other games, but it's probably the easiest game of his to enjoy. I keep hoping to find another layer to the game whenever I come back to it, but it genuinely just is what it is. I thought I might find a new angle this time, having finally played Legend of Mana. All the context which that really provides, however, is to underline the rather obvious fact that Secret of Mana wasn't so much finished as it was buttoned up. Frankly, it's something of a miracle the game turned out as well as it did. Almost as unlikely as Square's seeming inability to satisfy players in the same way again, I suppose.

This was a game that I actually picked up around its original release date. I can't remember what exactly pushed me into it beyond being a general fan of Square by that point. I remember enjoying the Nintendo Power coverage of the game, and I recall that one issue came with a poster of the gorgeous cover art depicting the Mana Tree. That poster was hanging on the wall of my bedroom for quite a while, and I still think it's a great piece of art. The game's art design is excellent overall. The sprites are extremely expressive, with great attention paid to the enemies especially. The backgrounds are nicely detailed and always fit the intended atmosphere nicely. It's lush and verdant when it wants to be, cold and mechanical when it needs to be, and just all-around nice to look at.

The music is also superb. You have to believe this was one of the areas that took the biggest hit from the shift from CD to cartridge, but I can scarcely imagine how it could have been better aside from being played back at a higher quality. Composer Hiroki Kikuta's soundtrack has a very different feel from other Square games of the period, with a certain organic quality to it that almost perfectly matches the game. Even small things like the whale sound that plays when you power on the game help make this game sound different. The tunes shift from breezy to oppressive depending on the situation, but all of them are good at doing what they need to.

Above all, I think it's fascinating that Secret of Mana has been able to hang on to its legendary status over the years. Unlike contemporaries like Final Fantasy 6, Chrono Trigger, or Earthbound, Secret of Mana doesn't transcend its genre in any meaningful way. It's just a really fun game, one that Square has been decent about keeping in circulation for old fans to enjoy again and new players to discover for the first time. While none of Square's follow-ups have managed to capture a similar level of success, the company seems to understand that this game in particular is a favorite classic. The game has been re-released on the Wii Virtual Console, smartphones, as part of a Japan-only collection on the Nintendo Switch, and of course as part of the Super NES Classic Edition line-up. Secret of Mana is also getting a full remake that is due early in 2018.

As the sole representative of its genre on the Super NES Classic, Secret of Mana serves its purpose quite well. It's also one of the better multiplayer games in the package, albeit one that requires a fair bit of patience. It's unfortunate that Nintendo couldn't find a way to include the three-player mode, but I suppose it would be a lot of trouble to implement for just one game. Whether you go solo or with a friend, Secret of Mana is certainly worth playing again. Square hasn't managed to top its wide appeal with another Mana game in nearly 25 years, and it may well be another quarter of a century before they do.

Previous: Super Mario RPG

Next: Earthbound

If you enjoyed reading this article and can’t wait to get more, consider subscribing to the Post Game Content Patreon. Just $1/month gets you early access to articles like this one, exclusive extra posts, and my undying thanks.

#retro #gaming #super nes classic edition #secret of mana #super nes #snes #nintendo #square #seiken densetsu

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rankxerox · 7 years

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#yamahamotor twsteel yamaha yamahacaferacer sonoftimeyamahamotoreu xsr700 xsr700caferacer ironwoodcustommotorcycles caferacercaferacers

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tsukuyomi-chan · 7 years

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Bleeding on Beds of Flowers Chapter 5

Almost done this joyride of a fic! Happy endings will come!

(Chapter 1 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6)

Chapter 5: I’ll Become Someone For You

Yumizuki Luna is dying.

That is an unfortunate truth that Luna has to come to terms with. She spends most of her time just lazing around, watching the news, reading some books that she forgot to return to the library, wandering around the neighbourhood. It’s strange. After two months of nonstop work, all the sudden all she has is free time. Luna finally visited that okonomiyaki shop a block down from her apartment. It was good, but she really wanted to share it with Am.

Luna wears a sick mask almost constantly nowadays, since petals are now falling every minute, and it becomes a pain to clean up the petals around her apartment. The pills help, but she still feels constantly fatigued. It wasn’t as if Luna was always in shape, but she had been getting better once she became an idol, and now she was regressing back to becoming a lazy slob. There was so much free time it bothered her.

It almost feels as if she’s become a robot, going through just the necessary motions to keep herself alive. She enjoys the new food, takes in the small community around her apartment that she never noticed before, but it’s not as if she’s doing anything particularly special or important anymore.

Tokoha comes by one day, with croquette bread from Nishi Bakery. “Freshly baked!” Tokoha exclaims proudly.

They sit on Luna’s sofa together, watching the news. Luna hears some announcement about an upcoming tournament, and laughs to Tokoha’s rants about how her brother wouldn’t sleep until he finished his speech for it. The croquette’s are good, but only Tokoha would get worked up enough about bread to challenge someone to a fight about it. Well, maybe her and Am.

The television starts playing some cartoon movie. They only half pay attention, and Luna enjoys her hot cocoa as she watches a sentient peach start crying onscreen. She coughs lightly, and a petal lands in her mug that she sets down on the coffee table.

“Hey Luna,” Tokoha says quietly, her fingers curled around her own mug. “Are you really planning on dying?”

Luna nods. She can’t tell Tokoha about the Stride Gate, but it’s a comforting thought that once she dies, Tokoha will also be happy in the perfect future.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” Tokoha says, sounding almost insulted. “You could take the surgery. Even if you forget everything, I’ll still be your friend. We’ll all support you, even if you can’t remember us.”

Luna thinks of Am on the verge of tears that night at Dragon Empire, in her bed still asleep, at the closing ceremony staring at the carnations that Luna kept spilling.

“It’s fine,” Luna says. “Am will be happier once I’m gone.”

“I won’t be happy!” Tokoha shouts angrily, slamming her mug down on the coffee table in front of them. “I won’t be happy once you’re gone! I’m going to be really, really sad! So are Chrono and Shion! And Kumi-chan still wants you to go to that new café with her! My brother still wants Rummy Labyrinth to come back and perform at Dragon Empire again! Trinity Dragon still wants to meet you at Card Capital! I still want to chat with you more, and have sleepovers, and discuss our futures! And I’m angry, that you’d throw away a future like that!”

Tokoha grabs Luna’s shoulders, jerking Luna forwards into a hug as Tokoha wraps her arms around Luna tightly. Luna drops the tv remote in her hands, and petals scatter around Tokoha’s shirt, just like that day back at the Zoo G-Quest where Tokoha glowed with strength and excitement as Ahsha defeated everything in her path.

“Luna, why are you so determined to die?” Tokoha whispers.

And Tokoha’s so brilliant and shining, just like Chrono and Shion, and Kumi and Enishi, and Am, and Luna wonders how she was ever even brought into a world as bright as this. But Tokoha’s hands are shaking and her face is buried in Luna’s shoulder, and it’s hard to believe that Tokoha would do this for someone like her, but she is, and Luna knows that she really has been blessed, and she embraces the hug back.

“Thank you, Tokoha,” Luna says, and Tokoha’s hands grip her back like it’s her lifeline.

Just a little longer is the prevailing thought in Luna’s mind now. Everything’s just a dull blur, as she goes through the minimal actions of keeping herself alive, with that being the only motivation left.

“Just a little longer,” Luna tells herself as she’s brushing her teeth and rinsing petals out of her mouth.

“Just a little longer,” Luna tells herself when she’s out shopping for her next meal.

“Just a little longer,” Luna whispers to herself in the middle of the night, lying on her bed alone surrounded by red carnations, and she stares at past text conversations on her phone.

Luna picks up her phone in the middle of making dinner two weeks later, Enishi’s name flashing on the screen, and completely forgets about the boiling pasta in favour for pressing the green answer button.

“We’ve done it. Come down to the lab whenever you’re ready.”

If her life was to end, then she wants to do at least one good thing with it.

Luna closes the door of her apartment quietly, readjusting her backpack and surgical mask. She’s enjoyed living here for the past two months. She wonders who would move in after her. It’s the last time she would see her apartment. She’ll miss it.

The apartment door right across from her opens. It’s Am.

Luna can feel her heart stop, and her hands quickly reach up to her face to make sure that the mask is still there, but even after confirming its existence she still feels too exposed.

“L-Luna, hey.” Am says, her face changing from panic to surprise to a smile in an instant. “Perfect timing! I had some time off and I was testing out a new recipe and made cream puffs. Did you want to come over and try some? Oh, but…” Am’s smile wavers, and Luna realizes Am’s eyeing her sick mask.

She should go.

Talking with Am was just going to hurt her more.

It was going to hurt Am more.

She should go before anyone got hurt.

“It’s fine! Even if I can’t eat, I’ll still come over!” Luna shouts even still.

Am also seems shocked by the announcement, but her face breaks out into a real grin. “I’ll make some hot chocolate too!”

And that’s how Luna ends up sitting on Am’s couch, alternating adjusting her mask and sipping hot chocolate, with Am sitting next to her biting into cream puffs and talking about how her recent business trade was going, when she should be heading over to the labs for their perfect future. Her body feels numb, and it feels like the flowers are almost clawing at her throat, whispering to her from inside that this was a stupid idea, but Luna doesn’t move from the couch.

“…but then I said ‘unlike you, I have important stuff to get to next month! So you’d better make that report quick!’ I really don’t want to get bogged down with reading more reports while we’re doing Rummy Labyrinth business! That’d get too tiring too fast!”

Am’s little apartment was always neat and tidy, save from the kitchen table with documents everywhere. Usually it was comforting and inviting. Today it just felt constricting. “Can we not talk about Rummy Labyrinth?” Luna says quietly.

Am seems almost hurt, but hides it with expert ease. “Y-Yeah, I mean it’s technically our break right now from all that.” She continues on, trying to cover up that small awkward moment. “I wouldn’t want to talk or think about work during my breaks either! Oh, but I was just talking about the company work… I’m sorry, I must have been rambling about boring stuff!”

There’s a single petal that escaped her lips and now floats inside Luna’s mug of hot chocolate. She sloshes it around until it gets weighed down and disappears under the surface.

“What’s wrong? Is it bad? Is it getting cold? I can make you another one if you want.” Am says, putting down the half-eaten cream puff and begins to get up. Luna grabs her sleeve, but doesn’t move her eyes from watching the hot chocolate warm her hands around the mug, and can feel Am settling back down beside her.

The drink is mud coloured and Luna’s reflection is refracted and almost scary within it. She’s not sure if she recognizes the person staring back up at her.

“Am, you want your parents back, don’t you?”

Am pauses, as if conflicted, and gives a worried smile back to Luna. “Don’t worry about it too much, Luna. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is a big deal!”

The sound of cars driving by is a dull buzz in the background, and it’s all Luna can hear, but she refuses to look up from her drink even as she feels Am’s eyes drilling into her. “Luna…” Am starts, but she turns away, as if it hurts to look at her.

Luna isn’t able to handle it. All the sudden something inside her is just crushed by her heavy heart as she looks at Am for what is most definitely the last time.

You’re doing this for a good reason, Luna reminds herself.

You have to stay strong. This is fine, remember? You’re fine with this. There’s no other possible outcome.

This needs to happen.

Luna feels weak and pathetic, like nothing’s changed at all from when she had begun the G-Quests. She’s still here, crying in front of Am because she couldn’t do anything right. The mug is left on the coffee table, and Luna rubs at her eyes in a futile attempt to get tears to stop falling. This is going to be her last impression on Am, she needed to at least be coherent and understandable.

“I’ll definitely bring your parents! I’ll definitely succeed. No matter what happens, I’m not going to give up. I’m not going to fail. So…”

Don’t forget me.

She’s choking. She can barely breathe through the tears, but she needs to make sure that Am knows, and her chest is heaving and she pulls down the mask to try and breath, but only achieves in letting out a sobbing gasp instead. Am needs to know that she’s going to be happy again, and that was all Luna wanted, even if she couldn’t be around to see it. She’s going to bring Am’s smile back, even if that smile would never be directed at her.

(Oh, but she wanted it. She wanted to see it so badly, to bask in it, to exist by it, and to be loved by it as well)

Luna hiccups pathetically through sobs, and a red carnation petal comes flying out of her mouth, floating down gently into Am’s lap.

They’re both staring at it. There’s no mistaking it, no missing it, and Luna knows that Am’s eyes are glued to it.

After two whole months. After dozens of excuses, hiding around corners, running out of rehearsals and making it up later. After promising to herself that she wouldn’t become a burden. Luna can feel her heart shatter.

“L-Luna…” Am says, her voice shaking with fear, picking up the petal and rubbing it between her fingers, as if to confirm that it was indeed real. “I-Is that…?”

Luna runs.

She stands at the edge of the lab, seeing the platform where she’s to lie until she dies, absorbed into the Stride Gate to bring Am’s parents back to life and give happiness to everyone else on Earth. It’s vast, with sterile white everywhere and lab equipment around the edge. It looks large and lonely.

“Do you have second thoughts?” Enishi asks. Luna shakes her head. “Any final requests? You will still have your consciousness in the machine, but you won’t be able to wake up here again.”

Luna coughs lightly, and a red petal floats out. It joins the others on the floor.

“Do you want to talk to Chouno Am?”

Luna thinks of Am’s horrified expression, looking at the carnations and then at Luna. “It’s fine.” She says softly. “Am will be happier if I don’t talk to her.”

Her eyes are still red and puffy. There’s no more tears left in her, nothing but acceptance. It’s strange, and it may be due to the pills, but Luna can’t feel any fear towards her situation. She’s going to die, and everyone else will be happier with it, so she’s fine.

Enishi talks to the scientist, then returns over to Luna’s side. Luna looks at his expression and wonders if he’s sad as well. “It was an honour working with you, Yumizuki Luna.” Enishi says.

Enishi Satoru, 18 years old, Dark Zone Branch Manager, always formal when speaking, cold and rational, but kind and caring to others all the same in his own way. Luna is grateful. She’s grateful to Enishi and Tokoha and Team Try3 and all the workers and cardfighters she’s met, for allowing her to have these two months of happiness. With the perfect future, she can pay them all back.

But she’s going to miss them.

She looks up at the man and falls forwards, hugging the man who is two full heads taller than her around the waist, gripping tightly with her arms so that maybe he won’t notice her puffy eyes. “Thank you, Enishi-san, for doing so much for us these past months.” She looks up at the man, takes a deep breath, and grins. “Thank you.”

Enishi looks almost shook for once, the most expression she’s ever seen on the man. He presses his lips together, and there are wrinkles at his brow, but he rubs her back gently into the hug. “I…”, but he falters, and Luna buries her face back into his coat, so that she can disguise his trembling as her own.

Enishi’s hands are large and colder than Am’s. They grip strong and firm as he guides her to the center of the dome. He helps her up onto the platform and stays with her until she’s lying down on the cold surface, then let’s go of her hand. She stares at the high ceiling of the lab. It’s white.

Luna thinks of Am, eyes glistening that night at Dragon Empire, tearfully laughing together with her.

She smiles and closes her eyes.

#rummy labyrinth #luna yumizuki #cfv g #am chouno #cardfight vanguard g #my fanfic #amluna

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sexywookieesquadron · 3 years

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The Mission

Word count: 3454

Chapter 1/18

Summary: It's not easy to make friends when most of the Resistance thinks you're an out-of-touch celebrity that's just using their base to hide out from your problems. Despite Leia's best efforts to protect her, Mey-Gon is determined to prove herself on a real mission. With Relix by her side, it should have been a fun mission. It should have been an easy mission. But when things go very wrong, it sets both the Resistance and the First Order on a new path, racing toward the same goal. Will Mey-Gon's involvement in such a dangerous mission finally earn her some respect? Will a certain someone find that he cares more than he realized?

Next Chapter

xxx

Two shuttles zoomed overhead, arcing away from the base with an X-wing flanked on either side. They were outbound, so identifying them wasn’t really necessary; but Mey-Gon figured it would be good practice, so she held up her scanner and pointed it towards the shrinking ships. Within a couple seconds, all four identification codes populated onto the screen of her device with the approved symbol alongside each one.

Troop transports and fighters. No doubt they were on their way to prevent another First Order attack, and hopefully they would make it in time. Mey-Gon remembered well the terror of facing down stormtroopers alone when help had come too late. And she also still recalled the aftermath she’d witnessed in the towns where help hadn’t come at all. Part of her longed to go on a combat mission too, just to really feel like she was fighting the First Order; but she probably wouldn’t be much help, considering her training results.

Leia required that every Resistance member be combat trained - from the lowest mechanic to the top command - just in case the base ever came under attack. Even with all her stunt experience, Mey-Gon knew she was no fighter. She wasn’t particularly fast or strong, and outside of memorizing choreography, she had no instinct for combat moves. Weapons training had produced similar disappointing results. She knew how to handle various kinds of blasters and rifles, but her target accuracy averaged around 37%. Practice would improve both skills, hopefully, and she was determined to prove herself worthy of a real battle someday.

She tried to twirl the scanner around in her hand but fumbled it and winced as it clattered to the platform floor. While she picked it up and inspected it for damage, she heard the hum of an approaching speeder and knew that her replacement would be taking over in a minute. Luckily, the device had survived the drop and shouldn’t give the next shift any trouble. That was the last thing Mey-Gon needed tacked on to her reputation.

Besides combat training, Leia also preferred everyone to be cross trained to do several jobs, so that, in emergencies, someone was always qualified to jump into any position. Most beings trained for a few duties but excelled in a particular one and stayed there mainly. Mey-Gon had bounced from position to position over the past couple months and never really got the hang of anything. At first, Leia had tried to keep her close by assigning her to the control room, but the systems and codes were far too technical for her; so she tried maintenance, but had to rely on droids for most of the mechanical jobs. From there she’d been shuffled through various duties where her lack of skill couldn’t cause much damage.

“Hey!” she greeted cheerfully, peering over the edge of the platform at the girl jumping out of the speeder below, “That time already?”

“I’m sorry!” the girl scrambled for her chrono, “Am I early? We don’t have to change shifts yet, if you’re not ready.”

“No, no, you’re on time. I was just...” Mey-Gon frowned, “Come on up.”

As she triple-checked that she was leaving the radio and scanner in good condition, she tried not to let the frustration show on her face, lest it be misinterpreted by her replacement. Making friends was proving hard enough for her already. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t worked in one position long enough to become part of a team, or maybe it was the general confusion or nervousness that a lot of beings seemed to develop when interacting with her. All her life, she’d been surrounded by people trying very hard to be her friend, so she had never had to make this much of a personal effort before. It was yet another thing she was discovering she had no natural talent for.

“Sharp eyes, safe skies,” Mey-Gon smiled as she handed over the scanner. It was something she’d thought up over the last few hours of solitude, and she was quite pleased with herself for it.

The girl just blinked, then broke into a nervous grin and nodded, “Yeah...you too…”

Mey-Gon held in her stiff sigh until she had climbed down from the platform and hopped into her landspeeder. Maybe there was a reason she kept getting assigned to solo duties away from the base lately. She didn’t mind this post - the jungle out here was beautiful - or the occasional supply runs up to the fleet hidden in D’Qar’s orbital ring, but the constant distance from her Resistance comrades did little to improve her social skills.

The route back to base took several minutes, so she lifted her knees to the steering bar and used her arms to rearrange her hair into a more flattering style, now that she didn’t have to wear the helmet anymore. She liked to look nice whenever she was off duty, and she was eager to get out of this uniform. Eagerness was no excuse for sloppiness, though, so she slowed down as she entered the main thoroughfare of the base and navigated her way to the hangar garage where all the land vehicles were stowed, amongst other things. There were even a few swoop bikes tucked away somewhere, but Leia had made it clear they were for missions, not joyrides; and Mey-Gon had yet to be sent on a mission.

With the landspeeder parked securely in its spot, Mey-Gon climbed out and unclasped her uniform jacket, leaving it open to expose the fine pink blouse she had been wearing underneath. She was pleased with how well it reflected her personal style, even when tucked into the tailored trousers that went with the drab jacket. It would have to do until she got the chance to change into one of her dresses for the evening. As she walked around the parked vehicles, she spotted two Ithorian mechanics chattering melodically in their language as they rubbed down an astromech droid straight out of an oil bath.

“Hi, guys!” Mey-Gon waved and the chattering stopped, “Need any help?”

There was an awkward silence as the Ithorians tilted their heads to and fro to look at her through one eye at a time. She had no capacity to read their expressions, if they were even wearing any, and didn’t really expect an answer, since they were incapable of speaking Basic; so the awkwardness hung there until the droid tootled a friendly reply. Mey-Gon wanted to kick herself when she realized that she couldn’t understand droids either and there was no elegant way out of this stupid attempt at casual interaction. Her only solace was that the droid was BB-8, and that meant Poe was probably nearby. He was one of the few people who did talk to her occasionally, and there was an inexplicable comfort she got from being around him. Perhaps it wasn’t inexplicable, actually, but she didn’t want to think about it too much.

“Okay, carry on,” she backed away from the mechanics and heard them pick up their conversation again as she made her way toward the front of the hangar.

“Mey-Gon!” a familiar voice called when she neared the flight simulation pods.

“Relix!” she brightened and changed course to see what he was working on.

Other than Leia, Relix was probably the person Mey-Gon spent the most time with and was the closest thing she had to a real friend on this base. Of course, he was friends with just about everybody, but somehow he still took the time to include her in some of his projects and social activities. He was good at nearly every job, so whenever Mey-Gon got reassigned, she could always count on him to show her the basics. Unlike most of the others, Relix never acted awkward or impatient with her, and was consistently positive and encouraging. He was the nicest, most genuine human she’d ever met; and despite joining him often at the blaster range, she couldn’t actually imagine him shooting anybody, not even a stormtrooper.

“Are you done for the day?” he asked as she approached, and his BD unit, which he called Codey, chirped at her in greeting from where he was perched on Relix’s shoulder.

“Just got back from my last shift at the lookout point,” she nodded, peering into the open control panel that he was leaning over, “Trouble with the sims?”

“They keep going out of sync,” he swept a hand toward the other three pods, which the pilots used to simulate different battle scenarios together from the safety of the hangar, “But I’m pretty sure the glitch is coming from this one.”

“It’s definitely this one,” groaned a female voice and Mey-Gon looked up to see a human pilot leaning out of the pod they were working on.

“Hi, Tallie,” Mey-Gon greeted.

“Hey, Mey-Gon,” she returned, not exactly coldy, but warily, then looked at Relix, “Did you find the source yet?”

“Oh yeah, I got it,” he assured her, “It’ll just take me a couple minutes to clean it up and reboot the program.” He shot Mey-Gon an eager grin, “If you want to wait for me, I was thinking we could go work on your ship. I’ve been brainstorming different ways to coax a little more power into the sublight engines.”

“That sounds great,” she brightened, “Take your time, Relix. I’ll wait for you.”

Despite her initial attempt to donate her private light corvette to the cause, Leia had insisted that Mey-Gon keep ownership of it. As a result, she was now one of the few beings in the Resistance to have a personal transport; and it was a privilege that didn’t go unnoticed, like most of the other privileges that she enjoyed as a favored friend of the general. Still, she only ever used it for the occasional trip up to the fleet on supply missions or as a sanctuary of privacy when she was having trouble sleeping in her assigned bunk in the barracks. As much as the corvette had comforted her with its familiarity and reminders of her old life at first, they were both slowly transforming into something new in the service of the Resistance. Relix and his mechanical friends had been dying to give the luxury transport a military makeover, from weapons to shields to engines. He was constantly enthusiastic about making new modifications and Mey-Gon was always eager to try them out. It was one of their favorite projects to work on together. She was even considering giving the ship a proper name in honor of its transformation, though she hadn’t settled on one yet.

As Relix and Codey turned their full attention back to the open control panel, Mey-Gon wandered over to the break station and grabbed a cup off the shelf. Out of habit, she rotated it under the light and frowned at the dirty smudges around the lip. It may be a garage break station, but she still couldn’t understand why other beings cared so little about cleanliness. Then again, it wasn’t like she would be using it to drink purified comet glacier water, like she used to have imported to her mansion. She meticulously wiped the cup clean, then filled it with tap water and sipped delicately as she moved back toward the pods to wait for her friend. He was calling back and forth with Tallie inside the pod, asking her to check things every time he made an adjustment under the hood.

Mey-Gon leaned against the outside of the next pod over, carefully watching the exchange over the top of her cup. She’d always been good at studying people and imitating the traits she chose. There was a stark difference in the way Tallie - and almost everybody else, for that matter - talked to her, compared to the way they interacted with Relix. What did he do differently? She needed to figure it out and try it, herself.

Suddenly the hatch she was leaning on popped open, bumping her forward and sloshing her next sip of water down her chin and onto her nice blouse. She groaned and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

“Oh, hey, Mey-Gon,” Poe hopped out of the pod, “You joining in for the next sim?”

“What? No,” she shook the water off her hand in exasperation and glared at the spreading wet spot on her chest, “Why are you so determined to embarrass me?”

“Embarrass you? How?” he smiled innocently, even after glancing down quickly at the evidence of the spill he had caused, “Are you nervous?” he teased as he pulled a small bottle from his pocket, “Maybe you’d like a little liquid courage.”

“I don’t get nervous,” Mey-Gon said defensively, even as she eyed the bottle, “...but I would like some.”

“It’s yours,” he tucked it into her hand and relieved her of her cup, draining the rest of the water into his own mouth before elaborating, “Some girl up on the flagship gave it to me, but it’s not really my taste. I figured you’d like it.”

As she uncapped it and took a few experimental sips, she witnessed Poe half-heartedly wipe the water cup off with his shirt then walk over and set it back on the shelf she had taken it from. She made a mental note to thoroughly wash all break area dishes before using them from now on. When he returned, she couldn’t help but hum approvingly at the smooth flavor of the amber liquid, “I do like it. How’d you know?”

He grinned and leaned in close, whispering, “Because you’re an alcoholic.” She made an indignant noise and bumped him away with her shoulder, making him laugh as he shrugged, “Well, I only ever see you at the bar anymore.”

“That’s because I don’t get sent off on hotshot missions all the time, like some people.”

His smile tightened, “That’s because Tatooine would freeze over before the general put you in harm’s way, like some people. And not just because your combat scores are so low.”

“Why do you know my combat scores, Poe?” she scowled, actually embarrassed this time.

“I’m gunning for a promotion,” he explained proudly, “and every good commander should know the strengths and weaknesses of those around them. What I don’t know is your performance in a fighter, so hop in and we’ll load up a new battle scenario.”

It was tempting, terribly tempting. Mey-Gon missed the speed, maneuvers, and competitiveness of racing so much. The slow, safe life of base duty the past couple months had left an aching pit in her stomach that used to be filled with passion and adrenaline. Plus, there was something about starfighters, especially X-wings, that she had always been attracted to. She’d been dying to train in one, but never had an excuse until now. Normally, she’d ask Relix to be the one to instruct her through something new, because he was never judgmental; but there was such sincere interest in the look Poe was giving her that she felt maybe she could trust him as a teacher too - at least when it came to something he loved as much as he clearly loved flying.

“I would...” she admitted slowly, “but I don’t know how to fly stick.”

“Seriously? It’s completely intuitive,” he lifted his forearm up in between them, then grabbed her hand and held it down on top of his fist, moving his arm like a flight stick as he identified the directions, “Pitch, yaw, roll left, roll right...see? Easier than the yoke in your corvette. You can just follow my lead in the first round; I’ll be your wingmate.” His smile betrayed just how excited he was about finding someone new to fly with, but Mey-Gon was still distracted by having her hand trapped between his, so she simply nodded. Poe turned his head to call toward the other pod, “What do you say, Tallie? You and Relix against me and the princess?”

Tallie exchanged a look and a playful shrug with Relix, then she called back, “Sure, we should be all synced up again now.”

Poe looked back at Mey-Gon, quite pleased with himself, for some reason.

“Fine,” she pulled her hand back to uncap the bottle for one more quick drink before the looming humiliation, then tucked it away into her jacket, “but go easy on me until I get the hang of it, all right?”

“You’ll do great,” he assured her, then helped her up into the simulator he had been using, “Here, this one’s all set up and ready to go. I’ll jump in one of the other pods.”

Mey-Gon settled into the seat and looked around at the replica cockpit, feeling her heartbeat start to speed up in anticipation. Suddenly her view was obstructed by Poe leaning over her in the confined space as he pointed out various buttons and switches.

“Okay, most of the control panel should be familiar,” he rattled, “Pretty standard, like any cruiser. You’ve got your various indicators, monitors, warning lights, inertial damper...this one is deflector shields, targeting scope...trigger controls here on your flight stick, this one for laser cannons, this one for torpedoes. Here’s your comlink, which goes through your helmet…”

He grabbed the helmet off the top of the panel and fitted it carefully over her hairdo then adjusted the mic angle to line up with her mouth. It was a completely different design than her swoop racing helmet, but Mey-Gon probably could have figured it out herself. Still, she was more amused than annoyed at the way Poe was fussing over her. Whether she embarrassed herself in this first simulation or not, it was just nice to find something new to share with him - something that disrupted his usual cool demeanor and had him looking even more excited than her. And she had to admit she was pretty excited, not just about trying her hand at piloting a fighter but also about finally getting a chance to see Poe in action too. The man had a reputation for a reason.

“Okay,” he leaned back, “That’s about it. Just buckle in the harness - I’ll let you do that yourself - and when I close the hatch, the screen will-”

“Oh, excuse me! Wing Commander Dameron,” a distinct voice rang out from the hangar floor and Mey-Gon saw Poe’s eyes narrow in annoyance.

“What is it, Threepio?” he asked without even turning.

She perked up to peer over his shoulder at the gold droid. Almost everyone seemed to develop the same look Poe was now wearing whenever C-3PO interacted with them, but Mey-Gon was delighted by his presence. Protocol droids reminded her of rich, well-traveled beings and made her feel like she was on Hosnian Prime again or some other important place. If she hadn’t found such a good publicist, she might have employed a protocol droid, herself, back at the height of her success.

“Ah! Miss Niek,” he lifted his arms, “Just who I was looking for, in fact. General Organa requires your attendance.”

“Oh,” Mey-Gon bit her lip, momentarily tempted to have Leia wait until she’d passed at least one round in the simulator, but the temptation fled as quickly as it had come. She met Poe’s eyes apologetically as she pulled the helmet off and smoothed her hair back, “Sorry, Poe. Princess business.”

His genuine look of disappointment cracked when one corner of his mouth twitched in appreciation of her joke, “Next time, then.”

“Next time,” she promised and let him help her down out of the pod.

“I’m sorry, but have you seen Lieutenant Nalen?” C-3PO asked her, “He is being requested as well, and I’m aware he was working here not long ago…”

“Yeah,” Mey-Gon nodded then yelled toward the most distant of the four pods, “Relix! We have to go!”

“Coming!” he yelled back.

“Hey, Poe,” Tallie called, relief audible in her voice, “Since it’s just us, do you want to attempt a pass at stage eleven?”

“Yeah, let’s go for it,” he hopped back up into the pod, his energy returning.

Mey-Gon lowered her head to rub self-consciously at the wet spot on her shirt before finally clasping her uniform jacket back up. Maybe it was better that she didn’t slow down the practice exercises for the real pilots, after all. Her desire to have some fun was ultimately a waste of their valuable time.

#my writing #star wars #star wars ocs #mey-gon niek

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foghskaaning8-blog · 6 years

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boanerges20 · 7 months

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wolfeolsson7-blog · 6 years

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sbknews · 6 years

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New Post has been published on Superbike News

New Post has been published on http://superbike-news.co.uk/wordpress/yamaha-faster-sons-is-back-in-biarritz-for-wheels-and-waves-2018/

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Yamaha at Wheels and Waves 2018 Biarritz is a world-renowned destination for those who enjoy a relaxed approach to life, but once a year things get loud. Wheels and Waves has been bringing the party to the south of France for six years now. From the Punk’s Peak and El Rollo races to the surf competition and everything in between, Wheels and Waves is one of the coolest events on the calendar for those who want to indulge their love for all things two wheeled and fast.

This is the fourth year that Yamaha have been a part of Wheels and Waves and it’s going to be the most extensive Yamaha experience yet. This year Yamaha is rocking a retro futuristic theme, so get ready to go Back to the Future. Leaning away from the traditionally retro focused Yard Built aesthetic, Yamaha wanted to add something new to the mix and include some futurism in the brief. This is futuristic design from an 80s perspective. With Yard Built projects being unveiled in the Wheels and Waves village, bikes entering the Punk’s Peak and Swank Rally races, the Faster Sons apparel store getting you deep into the Faster Sons universe and a host of official partners doing their thing; this is one for the history books.

With Yard Built projects coming in from all over Europe, this is probably the most diverse year ever for Yamaha at Wheels and Waves. With the Back to the Future theme tying together six very distinct Yard Built Projects, things are going to get interesting. Yamaha are using the laboratory that is Yard Built to show how different people from different places and different cultures can create such unique builds on a singular theme. Each of these retro futuristic masterpieces will be unveiled in the Wheels and Waves village and will find their way into the Punk’s Peak race.

For the Back to the Future crew it is XSR700s all the way, but that’s where the similarities end. The all-female, Italian biker collective, Miss Biker, are bringing the Yamato in collaboration with Rice Eaters Garage. The Netherland’s Ironwood Motorcycles are adding their unmistakable style to the selection with the Chronos Joyride. Yamaha Klein from Germany join the pack with the Bantam Racer. Spanish custom build superstars Russell Motorcycles represent with their bike, Resilience. France’s own Le French Atelier are showing off their style with the Bull Noir and rounding out the six is the Portuguese contingent, Ton-Up Garage with their appropriately named OutRun motorcycle.

These six bikes will be joined by a host of other custom builds representing everything that’s wild and wonderful about Yard Built. Whether that’s cruising to the beach on a custom SCR950 or showing its muscle with Workhorse Speedshop’s fast and low XSR700, there’s a bike here for every occasion. DAB Motors will also be joining and unveiling their ultra-futuristic creation, Alter, at the Wheels and Waves Art Ride. A truly cutting edge design and build that proves just how far a Yard Built Project can go.

Joining Yamaha at Wheels and Waves are a prime selection of Official Partners, there to add some spice to proceedings. Nexx Helmets will be supplying helmets to builders chosen from their cool Garage line up. REV’IT is bringing their Overshirt Tracer jackets for builders while Mama Custom offer their ample skills in helmet painting at the Yamaha tent.

Wheels and Waves isn’t just about the bikes though and with water in its DNA, Yamaha are stepping up to the Waves this years as well as the Wheels. Diving in as an official partner of the surf competition, Yamaha are putting up a 9ft Yamaha branded long board as prize for whoever takes the top spot as well as for the winner of Punk’s Peak. There’s also going to be at the Yamaha tent a Faster Sons apparel store, giving you the chance to further immerse yourself in the Faster Sons Universe. So, come and join us at the Yamaha tent and make sure your following along with #BackToTheFuture and on the Yamaha Motor Europe Instagram @yamahamotoreu

Yamaha global partner of Deus Ex Machina This year Yamaha is proud to announce a new, global partnership with Deus Ex Machina. The partnership comes off the back of a long-standing collaboration between the two brands, based on a mutual respect and a shared passion for customized lifestyle. With Deus Italy’s Marketing and Communication Manager Filippo Bassoli becoming Global Marketing Director, this partnership took the next step and Yamaha joined Deus Ex Machina as their Global Technical Partner for the next two years. While both parties are businesses first and foremost, they both know that the world they live for is about fun, adventure, and living the lifestyle. The relationship between Yamaha and Deus Ex Machina will continue to be based on supporting unique communities, engaging with the wilder side of motorcycles and providing those who want it, the means for fun.

To celebrate this new global partnership, Yamaha is bringing the XSR900 Swank Rally Deus Ex Machina custom. It’s going to be out for fun and victory at the Wheels and Waves Swank Rally race, with Alexandre Kowalski riding in Biarritz on June 14th. As Yamaha Europe Racing Manager for the Official Rally and Enduro teams, he is one of Yamaha’s finest to be hitting the hills in Biarritz and taking on this challenge.

Make sure you stay tuned and keep an eye out for everything this partnership has coming up down the road.

#Biarritz #FasterSons #WheelsandWaves2018 #Yamaha

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