Dispatch #23: “Highway Robbery”
The extravagance of the stadium green room was almost too much to bear. Finally having a second to catch his breath for the first time since the casino, Von rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned the top button of his race vest in an attempt to try to cool down before racing in flaming race boots for the next hour.
“You excited man!? We’re going to clean the floor with all these suckers!” said Commander Sean emphatically.
“A little nervous, but other than that I’m all good. Ready to lock in!” said Von. “Why does every place that we’ve been to in this galaxy have an average temperature of a bajillion degrees?! That’s what I wanna know.”
“Here, you’re going to need a few of these.” said Riemer as he handed a few cooling patches to Von. “These cooling devices came in the race kit from Kick. A few of the janitors, Risk, and I are headed down to the track to start prepping a few things and making sure all your gear works. Make sure you get down to the raceway in one hour!”
Von nodded, exchanging positive vibes with all of the surrounding crew. “I’ll catch ya guys in a little bit, I just want to be alone and collect myself for a second before heading down.”
“You got it man.” said Sean, “I’ll check up on King Aras and the Thealuvians, I received word from the crew back at the ship that they were on their way in. Let’s get it!”
After the crew headed off in their separate directions, Von was finally able to sit down and catch his breath. He let out a long sigh of relief and exhaustion as the miles of travel over the last few months seemed to catch up to him all at once. The journey from Earth to the desert oasis of Makanan. After a desert battle on Makanan to another battle on the volcanic moon of Simia. A brief stint at the Brazorian casino led part of the crew to the middle of nowhere after searching for Loborio while he and Sean stopped at a dead end on Zolturia I. The chase seemed never ending and now, he was about to compete in the race of his life in search of more answers to the Seal of Ilsendor. While he had never felt more alive, this test seemed like the most daunting of them all so far.
“Do I have what it takes to continue to do all this? Why me? Why is it so important that I’m the one that has to be the guy that races on a moon we’ve never been to before?”
Negative thoughts crept in and stayed for just a brief moment. Fear, uncertainty, and doubt lingered around the Commander’s headspace, unsure if the terrible times he’s endured lately would be his last. But then he remembered how successful the launch of the mission was and how far they’d come…the crew was on its fourth location as a collective whole! He imagined the smile that would have appeared on Snazzy’s face if she’d been here to witness this moment, how proud of him she would be. The reason they’d come this far was all because of family, the community of recruit support never wavering.
Von took one last look out towards the stadium. The fans were beginning to file in, holding signs that displayed their idols from all different origins. A young Zolturian girl who was holding onto her mother with one robotic arm was holding a stuffed animal monkey. Von recognized it right away: it was the mighty warrior Biz that everyone in their journeys had talked about. The Commander knew in that moment that all of this was much, much bigger than him. There were recruits that depended on him. There were his crew mates that depended on him. There were even people on Earth that depended on him to succeed. The Commander stood up, put on his helmet, and started to make his way down towards the stadium ground floor.
- — -
“Ahh it’s nice to see a familiar face.” said Commander Sean as he joined Destiny’s Fortune in welcoming both King Aras and the Thealuvians to Zolturia 2.
“It has certainly been quite some time since I’ve had the itch to return back to the coliseum,” said Ringbolt. “The last time our crew was here, we ended up bringing that guy along with us after he smashed in a couple thousand grunkels.”
Vadum turned his head, laughing with joy in remembrance of more chaotically heroic times. Elekron reached into his travel bag, revealing an artifact that was intended for King Aras. The Simian ruler discreetly received the item, quickly hiding it under his robes.
“Commander,” said the King, “We have successfully identified the use case of the Seal of Ilsendor. After weeks of processing and meditation with Simian scripture, I can confirm that this is the technology we’ve been searching for. If we have any chance of beating the Legion of Wen and stopping Nifty, it is with this at our disposal.”
Aras revealed the seal to the Commander, its presence alone forced everyone in the immediate circle to take a step back.
“So this is what is supposed to defeat Nifty?” said Sean gullibly.
“In theory, yes,” said Aras, pointing to the open spaces within the sphere. “The Seal of Ilsendor is capable of holding and harnessing the power of ten moon relics. If one is able to control the intensity, the sheer vigor of all actual moons of Ilsendor…we must never allow that sort of position to be given to any one individual.”
The King turned his back towards the group, in fear that he had shared too much information.
“What Nifty and the Legion of Wen are after, I hope you all know that we don’t stand a chance if they are successful. We have come here not to watch the race, but to watch the suspicious activity outside of the race. The strength within the seal is strong on this moon, stronger than it was on Simia. I fear the circumstances are too good to be true. Please make sure all the troops stay vigilant and unfortunately for them, stay on top of their game during the race.”
“Will do, my King.” said Sean, his nerves cranking up a notch. No one aboard Destiny’s Fortune had seen this coming. “We will keep an eye on everything and make sure there are levels of secur — Oh Crap, has anyone seen Von lately?!”
- — -
“Ready to join your captain buddies? There’s a special place waiting for you in the caves of Vizenfall!” sneered Ryventor as he revved his boot rig with the attached handlebars, sending a blue flame out of the rockets coming from the underside of the shoes.
“You guys have a weird way of trying to insult people…” said Von, shaking off the poor attempt at a backhanded comment. Turning back to face the starting line, the Commander began focusing all his attention on timing the light system ahead of him. He had memorized the pattern of the purple pulsing glow, its image engrained in the Commander’s head the past few nights. The area surrounding the starting line began to char as the contestants positioned themselves and their boot rigs inside their blocks. Game time.
“Greetings and Salutations! The moment you’ve all been waiting for has finally arrived!” said the race commissioner over the stadium speaker system. “We welcome all who have traveled far and wide across the Arderean galaxy to the one, the only: Annual Zolturian Boot Race!”
Explosions of cheering erupted from the stadium, completely drowning out any communications coming to the Commander’s earpiece. Von tapped the device to attempt to turn it up, but the overwhelming sounds surrounding him were piercing.
“Each contestant has earned the right to participate in the galaxy’s highest level of competition. The traditions of class and exquisite talent amongst this group are barnone, and Zolturia is humbled to be able to host such a terrific presence.” said the commissioner.
“Wait…he’s not talking about us, is he?” said Von under his breath.
“Just go with it, bow or something, the broadcast camera is on you.” said JB, finally able to hear him through the bustling crowd.
The Commander took one look at the hovering camera nearby, stuck his left arm out, and put two fingers on the inner part of his elbow as he let out his best “SHEEEEEEESH!”
After a moment of awkward crowd silence in reaction to Von’s failed hype attempt, the commissioner continued.
“Alright, that was…interesting. Contestants! For the next twenty-five laps, you will be competing amongst each other to maneuver the coliseum’s vast obstacles for a shot at being crowned galaxy champion! Outside of ultimate notoriety, fame and fortune, earning first place will also furthermore grant you access to the most elite tier in all of Arderean Sport! Best of luck, you will all need it. If you shall die, your body will be offered as sacrifice to the beasts participating in tonight’s post-race gladiator challenge!
“Brutal.” said Risk to Riemer as they watched from the race pits next to the starting line.
“Double brutal.” replied Riemer.
The commissioner cleared his throat and sounded the coliseum horn, “Contestants, please make your way to the appropriate starting positions. May the best racer win!”
For a brief second, all was quiet. The roar of the crowd seemed to vanish into another dimension; the kicked up dust from rocket boots stagnant in the still air. A bead of sweat managed to find its way under the Commander’s bandana, annoyingly trickling down onto his brow. Before he could wipe it away, the ear-shattering blast of the starting gun echoed throughout the coliseum.
