Deciding that he’d rather see the sites than hang out with the zoo, Jostein headed down town on his supped up custom built Mirage that their sponsor had kindly shipped over. The sextuple exhaust system purring merrily as he cut through the night traffic. He didn’t need a Sat Nav or guide book to lead him where he wanted to go, not they would have had it listed anyway he cruised the night roads looking for the tell tale signs that would point him towards the local street scene…and probably the local Triad crew too. He’d polished up on his local lingo and had a few key phrases sorted out. “什麼他媽的你在看?” and “我們的賽車還是什麼”?"
Reality was he needed to get away from the zoo for a while, they were getting a little too close, too human. A couple of days wrecking up the streets of HK and running down some of the little fuckers should see him straight…or at least help him unwind. Granted the 5 Star pad he’d booked for the next few days was also helping, room service was…..hot.
A couple of hours of learning the streets and watching other bikes go by he latched on to an elf riding some kind of tricked out street racer, looked like it belonged in a kids play ground, pretty colours and go faster stripes all over the damn thing , he was tempted to cut the animal up right then and there…but decided he’d had enough of cruising and it was time to get down to some serious racing.
It didn’t tale long for the Elf to lead him where he expected and soon he was among crowds of Chinese bikers and the smell of all kinds of strange street food. He spotted a crew of likely lads and headed over to say hi…..
…it was a short conversation, he decided not to use his key phrases and they were suitably impressed by his bike that the language of beer was all that was needed. A couple of hours were spent chilling and watching. Bikes, Babes, Bikes…..and the animals. Yea this place was ripe….time to get culling.
Like any meet anywhere in the world, the last ride of the night was the “anything goes within reason”. Or in other words no hacking, no magic and no big guns or automatics. The blades being carried by some of the bikers left little to the imagination as to what would happen if you rode a little to close to one of those on a sharp corner.
He had the local crew, who’s name he’d decided was something like “Da Hood” or “Da Hoodians” or something like that, quickly understand what Jostein wanted . Signed up ready to roll, side bets being placed by the bucket load. Jostein didn’t bother with the betting, heck he’d never know who to ask for his money, he trused “Da Hooligans” or what ever to make good if he won.
It was a small field. just 5 other bikes. 2 Humans, an elf, an orc and something that may or may not have been and orc. Or Orc Elf crossbreed, ugly bastard. Strangely all the usual street banter was missing. Shit the Elf looked like he’d rather not be racing…..sad bastard!! The bikes all looked pretty standard in the way they were modified, but it was hard to know what was really hidden in the machinery until after you won it and took it. A pretty little thing trotted out, waved around her arse and the flag dropped. Jostein was slow off the mark as he was distracted….Damn it was only 4-5 hours since he’d had room service!!! Must be something in the air…and 3 seconds after everyone else was off, the Mirage smoothly lept down the road.
Six laps , one per entry, of a point to point race, no designated route, just pass the markers in the right order, pretty straight forward. At least it would have been back home…here not knowing the roads, it was going to be….interesting!
Being at the back meant he could tag along and plan for later laps , on the downside it also meant he was the target for every oil dump, mini mine, caltrop and over the shoulder shot that was aimed at anyone behind anyone else, it added to the fun if nothing else.
Three laps in Jostein was still cruising at the back, he’d passed two wrecks already, the Elf was walking away from his wipe out, one of the humans looked like he was going to need a whole new spine by the way he was wrapped around the post his body had hit…. too bad…that was two bikes that were only be going to be good as scrap to the winner.
By Lap five, he was getting a bit fed up with the need to dodge crap and decided it was time to even things up a bit, kicking into gear he inched closer and closer to the bike in front, a nice clean street bike, no silly colours or other junk, a real bikers bike, too bad really. As he pulled along side Jostein late fate take over. Locking in the auto speeder, he let go the handle bars and flicked a small steel bolt at the other riders face plate. There was a sharp crack as the bolt punched through, and probably took out a few teeth. And then there was a screeching of metal, sparks and bike parts going in all directions and the rider went out of control and hit the road hard….he’d walk away from that at least…..or crawl anyway. Heck it was a the other human, Jostein didn’t want him hurt too badly!
Three down two to go, time to get serious Orc and Cross Breed left. How the orc was keeping the speed on his big cruiser was something Jostein was keen to find out . What ever zoo he came from, those orcs had worked some serious magic on that bike…and Jostein wanted to take a look at it.
Final lap and Jostein was starting to wonder if the race was actually going to start, catching the leading pair had proven a tad too easy, neither was really pushing it, and even now, when things should have been hotting up they were just cruising, orc in front, half breed tucked in behind…. the orc doing nothing to shake him….. reality hit Jostein at the same time as the nail gun opened up from the crossbreeds bike. A fraction slower on grounding the bike and he’d have been looking at some serious damage to his upper leathers..as it was a 20 foot slide took all the paint work and most of the leather off his left side. A quick flick and he was back up…and pissed. The orc had moved ahead and Cross Breed was weaving a pattern that filled the air with the hiss of nails. Enough of that shit. It was time for karma to kick in, and Karma was a bitch!
Hitting top speed Jostein burst through the spray of nails with only a few scratches to account for and hit the auto speeder right as he came up behind Crossbreed. Parkour came in handy at the strangest times …standing up he leapt onto the back of crossbreeds bike and with a swift sweep of his hands separated the bastards head from his body…easy bit done he almost screwed up the back flip back onto his own bike…granted, the back flip wasn’t really needed…but hey…someone may have been watching!
The orc was easy to catch…nothing speedy about that cruiser after all, just the handy partner with a nail gun to slow down the rest of the field. Indeed the orc looked mildly surprised and rather pissed as Jostein flipped him….her….it…who fucking knows ….the finger and swept in front.
Now Trolls may tell you different, but getting shot by a shot gun hurts. and while he’d been expecting a gun shot, and been weaving like a demon, a shot gun is harder to avoid, especially when you’re show boating. Biker leathers, what was left of them, stopped the worst of it…but yea that was going to sting for a while.
Glancing over his shoulder he saw the Orc reach into a side bag and pull out something that was reasonably small…but was chain fed back inside the side bag!!! This was not going to be pleasant!!! Jostein started to accelerate just as the orc got his little gun sorted out…a few test bursts sprayed the road to the left….and Jostein sadly realized that there was not going to be a nice second place bike to claim at this race, only 5 wrecks.
Jostein stopped weaving. looked over his shoulder, braked and there was a soft pop from the back of the bike. The orc’s manic grin bore down on Jostein, it was holding fire to make sure it was right on top of him for the killing shot….and then the top of its head came off and the manic grin became the instant glazed look of a lobotomized ape, the corner came…and the ape went straight into the wall…. seriously who the fuck has a sextuple exhaust system!
The run back to the finishing line was dull. This was not how races were meant to be won. But anyway better please the crowd, banging up to top speed he ploughed across the finishing line came through lovely 180 spin to dead stop and ripped his helmet off to listen to the applause… apart from there wasn’t one…there was just dead silence, tinged with a nervousness that said “This shit is about to get real…I should leave….but damn I want to watch too!”
This was probably not the best time for Jostein to use a choice phrase…“什麼他媽的你在看?” Or something like that… a large goon decided Jostein had been talking to him and steeped forward to making various arm waving, finger crossing and crotch grabbing motions…probably gang related. The octagon shaped tattoo on his chest looked too much like a target for Jostein to resist and a button suddenly took the goon in the chest hard enough to crack several ribs and send him to the floor in pain….. and then it was on!
Walking back to the hotel later that night, Jostein had time to ponder on whether the guys with the Red Eye tattoo were pleased he’d taken out Mr Octagon or not, the ensuing fight had started off with fists and quickly accelerated to knives, staves and all kinds of cool shit that Jostein had only ever seen before in movies…he had a bag full of it now! Either way hammer time had arrived and Jostein soon saw that his likely lads had sided with the Red Eye crew against 3 to 5 other groupings, it was hard to say how many to be honest…. Just when it was going well and Jostein had made his way to the boys, some one decided to steal his bike… back in Seattle everyone on the biker scene would know that that was just not done. Over here it seemed the foreign dudes bike was fair game. Jostein heard the engine kick in and yelled “Duck” as he dropped to the floor. The last thing he heard before the boom was “Peking?” and then the Mirage let off it’s little party pooper and there were body parts everywhere. Fortunately those closest to the bike had been Octagon’s buddies and that wrapped up the fight. But the pieces of bike and splinter frame casing had made a right mess of everyone within 10 metres and not been overly kind to those standing without cover within 20.
Upon reflection, the Red Eyes had looked a little pissed when they dropped him off and he was pretty sure the phrase “Donucombak” was not an invitation to race again tomorrow…anyway his bike was wrecked…. ah well shopping tomorrow.. those Red Eyes might be feeling friendlier tomorrow!