Post by Nightbarrel on Apr 18, 2010 19:28:04 GMT -5
I've used the PSicture that CaMacKid provided a link to, and searched through my JM2 disc and found the riders endings. So without further ado, here they are.
Li'l Dave
"...Forty-six million, four hundred and ninety-three thousand..." Li'l Dave Katayama counted his fortune, mentally adding in the winner's share he'd just picked up. "Nice," he thought, "That should buy me a few more airplanes."
He raced away from the adoring crowd and headed towards the airport. As he pulled through the gates, he radioed the tower.
"Of course we can accommodate you Mr. Katayama. After all, you own the airport," came the reply.
A few minutes later Li'l Dave looked out from his perch of over thirty thousand feet to the landscape below. "Now this is what it's all about!" He grinned and dove headfirst into the open space. The air hit him in a rush. He exulted in the freedom.
He spun and twisted, pulling endos, 360's, inverted flips, donkey kicks, and other stunts too new to have acquired names. After a few moments, Li'l Dave righted himself to get his bearings. He grimaced as the wind had pushed him far from his intended target. He pulled his chute and hoped for the best.
"The Max" Marc Corri glanced up towards the sky. "Hmm, appears we have company," he announced.
"A new protege perhaps?" asked Quick Jessie.
"Perhaps..." replied Max, "If he can afford me."
Wild Ride
The victory party stood on the beach, waiting for the splash that meant Wild Ride had finally hit the water. They were breathless, no one daring to disturb the silence lest they miss it.
Finally, it came. Barely more than the equivalent of an ice cube being dropped into a stiff drink - a sound very familiar to Wild Ride's friends.
Wild Ride had treated them to her standard victory dive: a smooth one and a half inverse dive, from a height of over tho-hundred feet, in the cool glow of the moonlight.
Barely a ripple broke the water as she surfaced. Her entourage erupted into cheers. This party was ready to get started.
Wild Ride silenced them with her slender hand. "I came out of my pike too soon and over-rotated. I'm going back up for another." She strode through the surf towards her admirers.
"Yes. Try it again!" the crowd encouraged her, clicking their party glasses together with zest.
"No problem," replied Wild Ride. As she scaled the cliff, she thought about her victory and what it probably meant in terms of endorsements. But, she found her mind drawn to her true wish: to dive from the cliffs of Acapulco. "Well", she whispered to herself, "There's no better time than the present."
Back down on the beach, Wild Ride's entourage peered up the dark cliff face and watched for the tiny black silhouette that would mark her next attempt. They quieted down and began to wait.
And they waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
Blade
"Of course I enjoyed winning. Why wouldn't I?" Blade sat on her bike in the middle of the winner's circle, thinking about the question she had just answered with a question of her own.
"Then why don't you look like it?" the reported asked. Blade could see that the reporter thought she was lying. But her personal life was nobody's business but her own. Especially not that of some scumbag tabloid journalist.
She set her jaw and narrowed her eyes. "Sorry, question time is over. I'm outta here." Blade gunned the engine and took off, nearly winging the reporter in the process.
"Man, this double life I'm leading is getting to be a drag," Blade thought to herself as she raced home. "What I need to do now is blow off some steam and relax."
She pulled up to her place and hopped off the bike. A moment later, she had strapped on her pads and blades. She picked up her stick and glided out into the street.
A mischievous smile crossed her lips. "I guess it's time I simply ditched the 9 to 5 job and devoted my life to racing and street hockey. Hey, I've proven myself. So now, who cares what they think?" Blade smacked the puck and sent it flying.
Technician
Reporters and fans were screaming at Otomo. Each was trying to be heard above the other. It was an impromptu press conference to announce Otomo's big win, but to him all the shouting sounded like so much white noise. He had trained so hard and so long on virtual tracks, riding virtual bikes against virtual competitors, that he had begun to lose touch with anything real.
One voice penetrated through the din. "Otomo, it's time we talked."
It was female, definitely. Beyond that, Otomo couldn't be sure. He peered against the flashbulbs until his eyes came to rest on the figure of a beautiful woman standing against the far wall. She repeated herself again, "Come, Otomo, it's time."
Otomo ignored the press and walked over to her. It was Vanessa. Now, his curiosity was piqued. He asked, "What is it that you want? Training tips? You know you won't learn anything from your horribly outdated methods."
"No, Otomo, no tips." Vanessa knew she was walking a delicate line. Otomo had been beating them silly for awhile, but she thought that beneath his perfect practiced style and grace he was still just a man.
And, Vanessa thought to herself, that is Otomo's weakness. All I need to do is expose his humanity and he's mine. She leaned nearer to him and whispered, "No tips, no machines, no methodology. What I really want, Otomo, is you. Just you."
Otomo thought about this. It simply didn't compute.
He analyzed her request. At last, he mentally concluded that it was nothing more than a misunderstanding, a common simply human frailty. He said, "Fine, I'll grant you an audience around 7:00PM."
"See you then." Vanessa smiled. She slipped out of the room leaving Otomo alone with his crowd. When Vanessa was sure she was out of sight, she pulled a small shiny disc from her pocket and held it up the streetlights.
A shimmer of rainbow colors gleamed across its surface. "So, we have a date tonight," she whispered.
She tucked it away. "Men are almost too easy," she giggled to herself.
The Max
"You guys just never learn, do you?" Max was growing tired of his own victory party. After so many victories, all the adulation and trophies meant little to him. "I mean, how long have I been coming out here and doing this to you guys?" he said, "Ten years? Fifteen? Twenty? Man, even I don't know."
"Max, take it easy."
Max's protege, Quick Jessie West, moved to his side trying to get her old mentor home before he said something they'd both regret.
"Ah, forget it." Max angrily hurled the bottle of champagne across the room, shattering it against the far wall. He muttered gruffly, "My days as your mentor are over, Jessie. I've found somebody who can finally pay me what I'm worth."
"Fine, Max, if that's the way it's gotta be. I just thought that maybe you were doing this for more than the money." Jessie said, trying to look tough.
Max growled, "I am. My new student is going to show you what someone with talent can do...see as ho wyou haven't exactly done a lot for my reputation."
"Whatever. See you in the winner's circle." Jessie turned to leave.
"I seriously doubt it. Maybe my new protege, but not me."
Jessie looked back over her shoulder. "Oh? Not interested in eating your own works?"
"No, I've had enough. Now, I find myself more interested in shooting some 5.7 whitewater. Besides, when you get beat, I'll hear about it no matter what river I'm running."
"I hope you drown." Jessie stalked away.
A wry whisper escaped Max, "You know, sentimentality really doesn't suit you, Jessie."
Vampeera
Vampeera scanned the horizon and noted the approaching nightfall. She hoped the stupid emcee would get on with it.
"...Our winner is a cave explorer, and someone I wouldn't want to be caught with -- Vampeera!" he concluded. The crowd offered up some mild applause. They looked too petrified to remember how to clap.
"Cave explorer...what a joke!" she chuckled to herself. "It has nothing to do with exploring. I merely have to avoid direct sunlight."
As the darkness stole across the crowd, Vampeera peeled off her flame-retardant suit. She took off her dark sunglasses and smiled as the cool night air washed over her. Someone in the audience gasped.
"Perhaps, they're smarter than they look," Vampeera thought as she eyed the crowd. She licked her lips and grinned. "I could really use a drink," she said.
Gadget
"Let's see...um...rubber ducky? Got it. Um...zinc oxide? Yep, check that." Gadget absent-mindedly tossed his victor's trophy into the trunk of his car while he continued running through a checklist of items he would need for his latest invention.
"Don't forget the bubbles." Bomber walked up to him with a slight grin. She'd been listening to her brother go over his checklist since the first turn of the race.
Whenever Bomber had managed to get close enough to hear him, Gadget had been muttering about gas mixtures and altitude sickness. How he had been able to win with these goofy things on his mind was beyond her.
"Huh...? Oh yea, bubbles. Good idea." Gadget made a note of it on his hand. They were filled with similar notes, all relating to his next big thing.
"So what's your great idea, anyway?" asked Bomber.
Gadget stepped aside and gestured at his contraption with a flourish. "The floating bathtub!" His sister raised an eyebrow.
Quickly Gadget explained, "By my calculations, this will solve all the problems most people have with their bathwater temperature.
You see, by simply connecting a household tub to a hot air balloon apparatus, I can raise or lower my altitude to get into cooler or warmer air."
Bomber smirked. "And to think that I would have just added more hot water. So, anyone interested in buying this idea?"
"What do you think?"
Bomber nodded. she knew that her brother's ideas tended to be brilliant but entirely impractical. But she admitted to herself, no one was as good with mechanical things. She let her eyes rove over his contraption. She shook her head in disbelief.
"Okay. You're the smart one, bro. But hey, you might want to take this as a little good luck present." Bomber handed Gadget a slingshot.
"What the heck is this for?" he asked.
"Getting back down."
Steele
"Well, Vanessa, you've sure got a knack for handling that bike of yours. Where did you learn how to corner on water like that?" Blade asked. She was almost certain that Vanessa wouldn't tell her anything, but it was worth a shot. Blade hoped that maybe the thrill of victory would her put aside their rivalry for a few minutes.
Vanessa grinned, "Sorry, I'd love to help you out, but you know the score."
Blade nodded. She knew the score all too well. Recently, Vanessa had been the only rider doing any scoring.
Vanessa hopped on her bike. "I'd love to stay and chat, but it's time to have some fun." She gunned the engine and was gone.
Blade looked after her for a moment. She scowled and said, "Well, if you're not going to tell me your little secret, I'll just have to find out for myself." She hopped on her own bike and took off after Vanessa, staying back just far enough to remain hidden.
After a few minutes, Blade spotted Vanessa turning off on to a dirt road.
She followed and soon found herself on the edge of a high cliff overlooking a large smooth lake. Blade searched for her, but Vanessa was nowhere to be seen.
"Hmm. Now where the heck did she go?" she asked aloud.
A moment later and Blade's question was answered. The roar of a jet boat split the silence.
Blade turned to see Vanessa skiing barefoot behind it. As Blade watched, Vanessa twisted, spun, and turned, performing one incredible stunt after another.
A thrilling realization struck her. "Ah-ha! So that's the trick!"
Blade pulled out a notepad and started scribbling down notes. As her pen raced over the paper, she grinned, "Vanessa my dear, the next time we meet, you're going to regret not showing me this stuff yourself."
The Hun
"Looks like you've been looking at the backsides of huskies for too long."
The Hun stopped smiling and scanned the crowd gathered around his bike. The voice had been both sultry and sarcastic. He barked, "Who the %@$* said that?"
"I did. Gotta problem with that?" Bomber appeared from the group, still in her racing uniform.
Her face and hair was caked with grime, but her eyes glittered brightly. "Maybe you've been on that dog sled for too long. When's the last time you've seen a woman? A real woman?"
The Hun had to admit it had been a while. The Iditarod isn't exactly an overnight race. Considering that he'd been up in Alaska training for the better part of a year, it had been a long while, indeed.
The Hun hid his feelings and said, "I know you. What do you want?"
"Oh, just your bike. I'm still experimenting with things, you know."
"And what's in it for me?" asked The Hun, looking her up and down.
"Not what you think," came Bomber's response, "but definitely something you want." She threw her leg over his still-warm bike. With a wink, she hit the throttle and was gone.
Bomber
"Geez, you're a beast."
"Wha-?" Bomber wasn't sure if she'd just been insulted. She looked around.
"Well, guess you've gotta be to handle The Hun's old bike." Gadget emerged from the crowd. Besides herself and The Hun, he was the only one who knew about the deal. Her brother hadn't really meant anything by his comment, but Bomber knew that this wasn't the place or the time.
Bomber tried to play it off. "Good one bro. Like The Hun would ever give anyone anything. You know what that creep is like." She caught Gadget's eye and subtly motioned to the crowd. He gasped and put a hand to his mouth as he finally caught on. He may have matched his sister's brilliance with things mechanical, but socially, he was often a little slow on the uptake.
Before he could say anything, Bomber asked quickly, "Where's your bike?"
Gadget frowned. "Ah, I trashed it. I need to start over."
"Good. Here, take my bike and get out of here." She put undue emphasis on the word "my". "I need to go take care of something." Bomber walked away from the crowd and into the bar.
She spied her target. The informant picked up the phone and started dialing. Bomber moved quickly. With a quick flick of the wrist, she held the receiver.
"Hey, what the...?" he said.
"How much are you being paid?" Bomber asked.
"Not enough."
"Glad to hear it." She pulled him towards the bar. "What's your poison?"
Enigma
You are walking into madness.
You slowly make your way down a long corridor, your footsteps echoing in the silence. An occasional candle dimly lights the dripping walls. You hear an odd, raspy breathing in your ears. Startled, you whirl around in place. No one is there. You realize that the breathing you've been hearing has been your own.
But there is another sound.
Beneath the other layers there is a faint noise, a sort of hiss or scrape. You advance slowly, your curiosity pulling you forward.
At last, you come to the end of the corridor. An enormous iron door bars your way. Beneath it, a strange luminescent glow casts its light across the floor.
You know this is where you are supposed to be. This is where you will find the answer that you have come looking for. Who, or what, is Enigma?
You throw open the door.
Nothing happens.
No one is there. A phonograph in the corner is still playing, the needle at the end of a record. It is the scraping sound you heard earlier.
A very large chair sits in the middle of the room, facing a window looking into the evening sky. You walk to the chair, look around the room, and sit.
And it feels perfect.
Like it has always been your chair. Like this has always been your room. Like this is the way thing were always meant to be.
"Exactly," a far away voice intones.
You realize your search for Enigma is over.
Li'l Dave
"...Forty-six million, four hundred and ninety-three thousand..." Li'l Dave Katayama counted his fortune, mentally adding in the winner's share he'd just picked up. "Nice," he thought, "That should buy me a few more airplanes."
He raced away from the adoring crowd and headed towards the airport. As he pulled through the gates, he radioed the tower.
"Of course we can accommodate you Mr. Katayama. After all, you own the airport," came the reply.
A few minutes later Li'l Dave looked out from his perch of over thirty thousand feet to the landscape below. "Now this is what it's all about!" He grinned and dove headfirst into the open space. The air hit him in a rush. He exulted in the freedom.
He spun and twisted, pulling endos, 360's, inverted flips, donkey kicks, and other stunts too new to have acquired names. After a few moments, Li'l Dave righted himself to get his bearings. He grimaced as the wind had pushed him far from his intended target. He pulled his chute and hoped for the best.
"The Max" Marc Corri glanced up towards the sky. "Hmm, appears we have company," he announced.
"A new protege perhaps?" asked Quick Jessie.
"Perhaps..." replied Max, "If he can afford me."
Wild Ride
The victory party stood on the beach, waiting for the splash that meant Wild Ride had finally hit the water. They were breathless, no one daring to disturb the silence lest they miss it.
Finally, it came. Barely more than the equivalent of an ice cube being dropped into a stiff drink - a sound very familiar to Wild Ride's friends.
Wild Ride had treated them to her standard victory dive: a smooth one and a half inverse dive, from a height of over tho-hundred feet, in the cool glow of the moonlight.
Barely a ripple broke the water as she surfaced. Her entourage erupted into cheers. This party was ready to get started.
Wild Ride silenced them with her slender hand. "I came out of my pike too soon and over-rotated. I'm going back up for another." She strode through the surf towards her admirers.
"Yes. Try it again!" the crowd encouraged her, clicking their party glasses together with zest.
"No problem," replied Wild Ride. As she scaled the cliff, she thought about her victory and what it probably meant in terms of endorsements. But, she found her mind drawn to her true wish: to dive from the cliffs of Acapulco. "Well", she whispered to herself, "There's no better time than the present."
Back down on the beach, Wild Ride's entourage peered up the dark cliff face and watched for the tiny black silhouette that would mark her next attempt. They quieted down and began to wait.
And they waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
Blade
"Of course I enjoyed winning. Why wouldn't I?" Blade sat on her bike in the middle of the winner's circle, thinking about the question she had just answered with a question of her own.
"Then why don't you look like it?" the reported asked. Blade could see that the reporter thought she was lying. But her personal life was nobody's business but her own. Especially not that of some scumbag tabloid journalist.
She set her jaw and narrowed her eyes. "Sorry, question time is over. I'm outta here." Blade gunned the engine and took off, nearly winging the reporter in the process.
"Man, this double life I'm leading is getting to be a drag," Blade thought to herself as she raced home. "What I need to do now is blow off some steam and relax."
She pulled up to her place and hopped off the bike. A moment later, she had strapped on her pads and blades. She picked up her stick and glided out into the street.
A mischievous smile crossed her lips. "I guess it's time I simply ditched the 9 to 5 job and devoted my life to racing and street hockey. Hey, I've proven myself. So now, who cares what they think?" Blade smacked the puck and sent it flying.
Technician
Reporters and fans were screaming at Otomo. Each was trying to be heard above the other. It was an impromptu press conference to announce Otomo's big win, but to him all the shouting sounded like so much white noise. He had trained so hard and so long on virtual tracks, riding virtual bikes against virtual competitors, that he had begun to lose touch with anything real.
One voice penetrated through the din. "Otomo, it's time we talked."
It was female, definitely. Beyond that, Otomo couldn't be sure. He peered against the flashbulbs until his eyes came to rest on the figure of a beautiful woman standing against the far wall. She repeated herself again, "Come, Otomo, it's time."
Otomo ignored the press and walked over to her. It was Vanessa. Now, his curiosity was piqued. He asked, "What is it that you want? Training tips? You know you won't learn anything from your horribly outdated methods."
"No, Otomo, no tips." Vanessa knew she was walking a delicate line. Otomo had been beating them silly for awhile, but she thought that beneath his perfect practiced style and grace he was still just a man.
And, Vanessa thought to herself, that is Otomo's weakness. All I need to do is expose his humanity and he's mine. She leaned nearer to him and whispered, "No tips, no machines, no methodology. What I really want, Otomo, is you. Just you."
Otomo thought about this. It simply didn't compute.
He analyzed her request. At last, he mentally concluded that it was nothing more than a misunderstanding, a common simply human frailty. He said, "Fine, I'll grant you an audience around 7:00PM."
"See you then." Vanessa smiled. She slipped out of the room leaving Otomo alone with his crowd. When Vanessa was sure she was out of sight, she pulled a small shiny disc from her pocket and held it up the streetlights.
A shimmer of rainbow colors gleamed across its surface. "So, we have a date tonight," she whispered.
She tucked it away. "Men are almost too easy," she giggled to herself.
The Max
"You guys just never learn, do you?" Max was growing tired of his own victory party. After so many victories, all the adulation and trophies meant little to him. "I mean, how long have I been coming out here and doing this to you guys?" he said, "Ten years? Fifteen? Twenty? Man, even I don't know."
"Max, take it easy."
Max's protege, Quick Jessie West, moved to his side trying to get her old mentor home before he said something they'd both regret.
"Ah, forget it." Max angrily hurled the bottle of champagne across the room, shattering it against the far wall. He muttered gruffly, "My days as your mentor are over, Jessie. I've found somebody who can finally pay me what I'm worth."
"Fine, Max, if that's the way it's gotta be. I just thought that maybe you were doing this for more than the money." Jessie said, trying to look tough.
Max growled, "I am. My new student is going to show you what someone with talent can do...see as ho wyou haven't exactly done a lot for my reputation."
"Whatever. See you in the winner's circle." Jessie turned to leave.
"I seriously doubt it. Maybe my new protege, but not me."
Jessie looked back over her shoulder. "Oh? Not interested in eating your own works?"
"No, I've had enough. Now, I find myself more interested in shooting some 5.7 whitewater. Besides, when you get beat, I'll hear about it no matter what river I'm running."
"I hope you drown." Jessie stalked away.
A wry whisper escaped Max, "You know, sentimentality really doesn't suit you, Jessie."
Vampeera
Vampeera scanned the horizon and noted the approaching nightfall. She hoped the stupid emcee would get on with it.
"...Our winner is a cave explorer, and someone I wouldn't want to be caught with -- Vampeera!" he concluded. The crowd offered up some mild applause. They looked too petrified to remember how to clap.
"Cave explorer...what a joke!" she chuckled to herself. "It has nothing to do with exploring. I merely have to avoid direct sunlight."
As the darkness stole across the crowd, Vampeera peeled off her flame-retardant suit. She took off her dark sunglasses and smiled as the cool night air washed over her. Someone in the audience gasped.
"Perhaps, they're smarter than they look," Vampeera thought as she eyed the crowd. She licked her lips and grinned. "I could really use a drink," she said.
Gadget
"Let's see...um...rubber ducky? Got it. Um...zinc oxide? Yep, check that." Gadget absent-mindedly tossed his victor's trophy into the trunk of his car while he continued running through a checklist of items he would need for his latest invention.
"Don't forget the bubbles." Bomber walked up to him with a slight grin. She'd been listening to her brother go over his checklist since the first turn of the race.
Whenever Bomber had managed to get close enough to hear him, Gadget had been muttering about gas mixtures and altitude sickness. How he had been able to win with these goofy things on his mind was beyond her.
"Huh...? Oh yea, bubbles. Good idea." Gadget made a note of it on his hand. They were filled with similar notes, all relating to his next big thing.
"So what's your great idea, anyway?" asked Bomber.
Gadget stepped aside and gestured at his contraption with a flourish. "The floating bathtub!" His sister raised an eyebrow.
Quickly Gadget explained, "By my calculations, this will solve all the problems most people have with their bathwater temperature.
You see, by simply connecting a household tub to a hot air balloon apparatus, I can raise or lower my altitude to get into cooler or warmer air."
Bomber smirked. "And to think that I would have just added more hot water. So, anyone interested in buying this idea?"
"What do you think?"
Bomber nodded. she knew that her brother's ideas tended to be brilliant but entirely impractical. But she admitted to herself, no one was as good with mechanical things. She let her eyes rove over his contraption. She shook her head in disbelief.
"Okay. You're the smart one, bro. But hey, you might want to take this as a little good luck present." Bomber handed Gadget a slingshot.
"What the heck is this for?" he asked.
"Getting back down."
Steele
"Well, Vanessa, you've sure got a knack for handling that bike of yours. Where did you learn how to corner on water like that?" Blade asked. She was almost certain that Vanessa wouldn't tell her anything, but it was worth a shot. Blade hoped that maybe the thrill of victory would her put aside their rivalry for a few minutes.
Vanessa grinned, "Sorry, I'd love to help you out, but you know the score."
Blade nodded. She knew the score all too well. Recently, Vanessa had been the only rider doing any scoring.
Vanessa hopped on her bike. "I'd love to stay and chat, but it's time to have some fun." She gunned the engine and was gone.
Blade looked after her for a moment. She scowled and said, "Well, if you're not going to tell me your little secret, I'll just have to find out for myself." She hopped on her own bike and took off after Vanessa, staying back just far enough to remain hidden.
After a few minutes, Blade spotted Vanessa turning off on to a dirt road.
She followed and soon found herself on the edge of a high cliff overlooking a large smooth lake. Blade searched for her, but Vanessa was nowhere to be seen.
"Hmm. Now where the heck did she go?" she asked aloud.
A moment later and Blade's question was answered. The roar of a jet boat split the silence.
Blade turned to see Vanessa skiing barefoot behind it. As Blade watched, Vanessa twisted, spun, and turned, performing one incredible stunt after another.
A thrilling realization struck her. "Ah-ha! So that's the trick!"
Blade pulled out a notepad and started scribbling down notes. As her pen raced over the paper, she grinned, "Vanessa my dear, the next time we meet, you're going to regret not showing me this stuff yourself."
The Hun
"Looks like you've been looking at the backsides of huskies for too long."
The Hun stopped smiling and scanned the crowd gathered around his bike. The voice had been both sultry and sarcastic. He barked, "Who the %@$* said that?"
"I did. Gotta problem with that?" Bomber appeared from the group, still in her racing uniform.
Her face and hair was caked with grime, but her eyes glittered brightly. "Maybe you've been on that dog sled for too long. When's the last time you've seen a woman? A real woman?"
The Hun had to admit it had been a while. The Iditarod isn't exactly an overnight race. Considering that he'd been up in Alaska training for the better part of a year, it had been a long while, indeed.
The Hun hid his feelings and said, "I know you. What do you want?"
"Oh, just your bike. I'm still experimenting with things, you know."
"And what's in it for me?" asked The Hun, looking her up and down.
"Not what you think," came Bomber's response, "but definitely something you want." She threw her leg over his still-warm bike. With a wink, she hit the throttle and was gone.
Bomber
"Geez, you're a beast."
"Wha-?" Bomber wasn't sure if she'd just been insulted. She looked around.
"Well, guess you've gotta be to handle The Hun's old bike." Gadget emerged from the crowd. Besides herself and The Hun, he was the only one who knew about the deal. Her brother hadn't really meant anything by his comment, but Bomber knew that this wasn't the place or the time.
Bomber tried to play it off. "Good one bro. Like The Hun would ever give anyone anything. You know what that creep is like." She caught Gadget's eye and subtly motioned to the crowd. He gasped and put a hand to his mouth as he finally caught on. He may have matched his sister's brilliance with things mechanical, but socially, he was often a little slow on the uptake.
Before he could say anything, Bomber asked quickly, "Where's your bike?"
Gadget frowned. "Ah, I trashed it. I need to start over."
"Good. Here, take my bike and get out of here." She put undue emphasis on the word "my". "I need to go take care of something." Bomber walked away from the crowd and into the bar.
She spied her target. The informant picked up the phone and started dialing. Bomber moved quickly. With a quick flick of the wrist, she held the receiver.
"Hey, what the...?" he said.
"How much are you being paid?" Bomber asked.
"Not enough."
"Glad to hear it." She pulled him towards the bar. "What's your poison?"
Enigma
You are walking into madness.
You slowly make your way down a long corridor, your footsteps echoing in the silence. An occasional candle dimly lights the dripping walls. You hear an odd, raspy breathing in your ears. Startled, you whirl around in place. No one is there. You realize that the breathing you've been hearing has been your own.
But there is another sound.
Beneath the other layers there is a faint noise, a sort of hiss or scrape. You advance slowly, your curiosity pulling you forward.
At last, you come to the end of the corridor. An enormous iron door bars your way. Beneath it, a strange luminescent glow casts its light across the floor.
You know this is where you are supposed to be. This is where you will find the answer that you have come looking for. Who, or what, is Enigma?
You throw open the door.
Nothing happens.
No one is there. A phonograph in the corner is still playing, the needle at the end of a record. It is the scraping sound you heard earlier.
A very large chair sits in the middle of the room, facing a window looking into the evening sky. You walk to the chair, look around the room, and sit.
And it feels perfect.
Like it has always been your chair. Like this has always been your room. Like this is the way thing were always meant to be.
"Exactly," a far away voice intones.
You realize your search for Enigma is over.
