Test Track

~F-ZERO TEST TRACK, UNSPECIFIED LOCATION, EARTH~

"This is probably a bad idea."

Shockingly, it was not Stephen saying that. It was Russel, stopwatch in hand. And he was staring at Pele, the very dented Toyota AE86 Sprinter Trueno with considerable apprehension. Which was more than justified, as the car now appeared to have a rejected prop from Back to the Future stapled to the back of it. It hummed gently, which served as a contrast to the almost impatient and irritated snarling of the car's real engine.

Noodle's frizzy hair appeared from the passenger window. Underneath it, she was grinning maniacally.

"Hey, it worked when we went into space" she trilled over the rumbling noises. "It's gotta work on the track, too, right?" She patted the side of the Trueno, which seemed to growl in response.

"But that was us going into space!" protested the Boston drummer. "Escape velocity! This is actual steering and manouvering, with gravity and friction and all that shit! That booster wasn't designed for that kind of thing, baby-girl!"

"Only Stephen-kun gets to call me that now," Noodle retorted, sticking her tongue out at him.

But Russel's expression didn't change. His eyes kept flicking between the car itself and the looping, curving racetrack that stretched out in front of him. The addition of the hyperdrive had been a last-minute botch-job, under concerns that Pele as she stood wasn't qualified for the F-Zero track. But as much as he'd tried to modify it, Russel had no clue if it would even work. He could only see two endings - the engine exploding, or the car shooting off into the sky before exploding.

They ended surprisingly similar to each other.

Noodle ducked back into the car and out of sight.

"How we doin'?" Russel heard her ask her pilot.

"I dunno." Stephen's voice, muffled as it was behind the rest of the car, sounded confused. "Engine seems really hot already, and the oil pressure... She's not happy, Noodle."

"Eh, she'll be fine," was the retort. "Put her in gear, Steph! Let's get going!"

There was a metallic racheting noise as Stephen fought against a gearbox that suddenly seemed unwilling to co-operate. Russel hadn't noticed before, but Pele seemed to be trembling, the body vibrating as if under tension. He didn't like to think of the car as alive - that was ascribing too much to it on the whole. But he could have sworn that the way the engine rumbled and the wheels twitched seemed...

Almost angry.

He raised the stop watch.

"Ready?" he shouted.

No answer from the inside. So Russel took it as his cue.

"GO!" And he clicked the-

Pele took off.

To understand that last sentence, do not imagine a car moving off from the starting line. Imagine a car exploding briefly into white fire before shooting forwards at comet speeds, bellowing like an angry dragon all the while. And imagine a very terrified drummer from a cartoon band throwing himself to the floor with a yell as heat washed over him.

When Russel could look again, the car was gone. And the hyperdrive engine that had taken a whole week to retrofit was in pieces on the start line.

He stared at it.

"At least I ain't payin' Pickle-Puss for the privelage," he muttered.

------

When the car finally came rocketing back and slid to a stop over the line, it had shaved an entire five seconds off the previous record-holder. Russel nearly forgot to click the stopwatch off in his shock. And then he spent several seconds staring at a car that, rather than tearing itself apart from g-forces and velocity, was instead quietly simmering as if to say "Ta-daaaaaaah!"

Inside the car, Stephen and Noodle were a mess. Their faces were sweaty, their hair was wild and tangled and their expressions were pictues of shock. They looked like they hadn't stopped screaming for a long, long while. They blinked owlishly, staring ahead as if trying to see ghosts - and having probably seen plenty already.

There was a very long silence indeed. It was marred only by the quiet purring of the engine.

"I think," Stephen murmered at last, "that she doesn't like being altered."

"Yeah." Noodle tried and failed to smooth down the explosion that was her hair. "Let's... let's keep her like this."

Pele snorted steam from her grille. It sounded almost smug and self-satisfied.

Kuwahawi Drift

WE NOW RETURN TO THE MAIN ZFRP-VERSE!

~KUWAHAWI PELE-PELE FREEWAY~ 

"This is probably a bad idea," said Stephen over the engine's impatient growl.

He wasn't totally inaccurate. The car in question was a beat-up Toyota AE86 Sprinter Trueno, a relic of the 80's that had somehow lumbered along into the present day in defiance of time itself. The question of where or how it had been acquired had never been answered, since the person who'd purchased it - Murdoc - had responded with "never again" and then buggered off to get drunk. The engine made weird knocking noises if it went above fifty, the clutch was a little sticky and somebody had drawn a penis in Sharpie on the bonnet. It was not an ideal car to race in.

But then Murdoc had made a bet with some shark-man that he could beat their time in the mountain road that connected Kuwahawi's central city with the coast. And then an even more pissed Noodle had announced that her Wendigo boyfriend could trash both of them. Stephen, who was nowhere near as drunk, had tried to be polite about it, but the glint of the shark's teeth in the sunlight had shut him up long enough for Murdoc to slam two thousand dollars onto the table. And by the time he realised what had happened, Noodle had already downed her eight can and dragged him off to do practice laps.

Which was why he was here now. And reiterating that he thought that this was a bad idea.

Saturnz Barz

The house was clearly old. It was the sort of house some rich, colonialist toff would build as a summer home, a chunk of old Victorian England admist the quaint backdrop of sea breeze and coconut oil. Apparently there had been murders, occult rituals and other nasty things going on in here, which is why the place had been left to rot and gather cobwebs, heavy with rumours of strange noises and sightings. The fact that it was still standing was a miracle, not a testament to the quality of the building material or the workmen involved.

In short, it was pretty shit. But the Gorillaz and Stephen needed a place to stay, and there had been whispers of a basement perfect for recording music. Which, honestly, was all you needed as far as a band who hadn't made new music for six years was concerned.

It was the usual balmy, tropical Kuwahawi weather when the band pulled up outside - perfect for sunbathing, swimming or very alcoholic drinks. So when Murdoc rang the doorbell, expecting to meet whoever the landlord of this place was, the sudden crack of lightning followed by rain was a little odd. But then again, the gang all together had seen odder things in their lives, so nobody did much more than duck under the overhanding porch roof for protection, assuming this to be just a freak tropical storm.

"Loudest doorbell I ever heard," Murdoc observed, staring intently at the button.

The door opening by itself, however, was a new one. Nobody had quite expected that.

G-Bitez: Hangover

Stephen didn't want to wake up. The weather outside was typical Canada winter, all snow and frost and biting cold, and all he wanted to do was curl up in his big comfy bed and hibernate. The only problem was that Noodle wasn't there to share it, but he could take or leave that as long as it meant he didn't have to leave the bed. And, on top of that, he had a throbbing headache that, he suspected, might have had something to do with last night's celebrations.

But for some reason, breathing through his nose was a problem. So he had to get up to fix that, and that meant getting out of bed. For some reason, his antlers felt rather heavy, and it took a bit more effort to lift his head off of the pillow than it usually did, making him grunt as he hauled himself upright. As far as he knew, they'd never grown as heavy as this - in fact, as he pawed sleepily as his own face, he was pretty sure they didn't rustle, either...

And that was when the clown nose fell off.

"What?" he asked, still half-awake and very confused.

It was to be the start to a very long morning indeed. 

Predator (NSFW)

WARNING: The following post contains horror themes and material that certain readers may find upsetting. Reader discretion is advised.  

"Daddy...?"

The man stared from within the doorway of the freezer room, eyes wide with fear, rifle clutched in trembling hands.

"What the hell have you done...?" he gasped.