Bump! Aaaaanyone?
Spectral Monkey Member
Dragon Puncher
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- Old Guild Username: ExplosiveTea
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- Spectral Monkey 11 yrs ago
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@Wishful Stray Hey! Sorry, only just noticed your post. PM me, and we can discuss ideas :)
Erica took great pleasure in speeding past MacGrath when her rival hit the rubble, heightened reflexes allowing her to dodge around the dust and debris; well, that was the price for not paying attention when it mattered, especially as they were coming up to the trickiest part in the course, or at least, the corners that cost the most lives. Still, that did not stop the more daring or morbid spectators from crowding the pits and stands there; some even had bets on who would die. When Erica had first started out, she had seen her name on those bets plenty of times for all sorts of tracks, but she did not let it bother her anymore.
The sudden blast of the horn first made her flinch, but secondly infuriated her; she shook her head, knowing that a lack of concentration was exactly what MacGrath wanted. Still, the horn continued to blare, gnawing away at Erica's patience like a rabid animal; a glance in the wing mirror told her that the other woman was hot on her tail, most likely with a smug look on her face under that visor. At least on the corners, Erica could let up a bit on the acceleration to give her poor bike a break; hundreds of scorch marks and broken walls told her that not everyone had slowed up in the past.
On and on the horn went, loud and obnoxious - "Christ! Is she ever gonna let up?" Erica was inches away from losing her temper, so close in fact that she completely missed a deep pothole in the road that caused her hoverbike to briefly hit the ground, sending up sparks and shaking the entire frame.
Bracing, Erica hung on and steadied her bike, managing to maintain some amount of speed to be neck-and-neck with MacGrath as they swerved around the corners. Unfortunately now, her steering had been knocked a little off by the pothole, making all the deaths on this set of corners suddenly seem very real. Especially now that they were fast approaching the worst corner of them all - a complete hairpin charmingly named Last Rites, which had claimed no fewer than 200 lives since the track had been set up. Not only that, it was on a steep decline - all the more difficult. However, it was the last difficult corner before the easiest stretch of the race - if anyone could nail this corner, they would have a far simpler time winning.
Critics had argued that the rivalry was getting out of hand; perhaps it was, but there was no denying that in that rivalry there was respect, so she was not about to do anything drastic. Just a little something to get MacGrath back for the horn thing, mainly because Erica was still seething with anger. Her bike only had one weapon, a little ion blast that was useless at long range; but at short range, it could disrupt electronics - just enough to temporarily cause a few minor problems, not to take someone out of the race entirely.
So Erica deliberately slowed up a bit as if her bike was overheating (which it was, a little) and scanned MacGrath's bike before taking aim and firing the ion blast.
In hindsight, this was never going to be a good move.
The sudden blast of the horn first made her flinch, but secondly infuriated her; she shook her head, knowing that a lack of concentration was exactly what MacGrath wanted. Still, the horn continued to blare, gnawing away at Erica's patience like a rabid animal; a glance in the wing mirror told her that the other woman was hot on her tail, most likely with a smug look on her face under that visor. At least on the corners, Erica could let up a bit on the acceleration to give her poor bike a break; hundreds of scorch marks and broken walls told her that not everyone had slowed up in the past.
On and on the horn went, loud and obnoxious - "Christ! Is she ever gonna let up?" Erica was inches away from losing her temper, so close in fact that she completely missed a deep pothole in the road that caused her hoverbike to briefly hit the ground, sending up sparks and shaking the entire frame.
Bracing, Erica hung on and steadied her bike, managing to maintain some amount of speed to be neck-and-neck with MacGrath as they swerved around the corners. Unfortunately now, her steering had been knocked a little off by the pothole, making all the deaths on this set of corners suddenly seem very real. Especially now that they were fast approaching the worst corner of them all - a complete hairpin charmingly named Last Rites, which had claimed no fewer than 200 lives since the track had been set up. Not only that, it was on a steep decline - all the more difficult. However, it was the last difficult corner before the easiest stretch of the race - if anyone could nail this corner, they would have a far simpler time winning.
Critics had argued that the rivalry was getting out of hand; perhaps it was, but there was no denying that in that rivalry there was respect, so she was not about to do anything drastic. Just a little something to get MacGrath back for the horn thing, mainly because Erica was still seething with anger. Her bike only had one weapon, a little ion blast that was useless at long range; but at short range, it could disrupt electronics - just enough to temporarily cause a few minor problems, not to take someone out of the race entirely.
So Erica deliberately slowed up a bit as if her bike was overheating (which it was, a little) and scanned MacGrath's bike before taking aim and firing the ion blast.
In hindsight, this was never going to be a good move.
bump!
@Anima PM me! :)
Hello! You can call me Monkey, let me tell you a bit about myself:
- I'm 22
- I'm female
- From the UK
- I've been roleplaying since I was 13
Rules!
- I'm only looking to do FxF roleplays, so unless you have a VERY good plot, I'm unlikely to do MxF (MxM I'm just straight up awful at).
- I'm a high casual-advanced sort of roleplayer; you knock out 3-4 paragraphs, I'll match.
- Don't be shy to PM! I can do PMs or threads.
- Only respond if you're above 18! I prefer mature rps - be that through violence, sex, or whatever.
- Super ditch friendly - I don't hold grudges, but a message is always appreciated!
Onto Roleplays!
(Cravings are in bold)
Genres:
Fantasy
Steampunk
Modern
Horror
Noir
Hit me up with some pairings!
Fandoms:
Steven Universe
Repo! The Genetic Opera
Lord of the Rings
The Elder Scrolls
Redwall
- I'm 22
- I'm female
- From the UK
- I've been roleplaying since I was 13
Rules!
- I'm only looking to do FxF roleplays, so unless you have a VERY good plot, I'm unlikely to do MxF (MxM I'm just straight up awful at).
- I'm a high casual-advanced sort of roleplayer; you knock out 3-4 paragraphs, I'll match.
- Don't be shy to PM! I can do PMs or threads.
- Only respond if you're above 18! I prefer mature rps - be that through violence, sex, or whatever.
- Super ditch friendly - I don't hold grudges, but a message is always appreciated!
Onto Roleplays!
(Cravings are in bold)
Genres:
Fantasy
Steampunk
Modern
Horror
Noir
Hit me up with some pairings!
Fandoms:
Steven Universe
Repo! The Genetic Opera
Lord of the Rings
The Elder Scrolls
Redwall
Erica dodged a fist aimed at her head, having caught the glow of an EMP unit in the corner of her eye at the last second; it had been wired into the other rider's glove, most likely with enough voltage behind it to send her into a fit. Swerving around a fallen lamp post, she gritted her teeth and scowled; there were too many other bikes between her and her attacker to retaliate now - but she would remember that helmet, and seek it out later. Revenge was never a pretty sight, especially on the track. Many lives in the past had been lost due to grudge matches, and that was not about to change. There was hitting someone, and then there was blowing their brains out with electricity; the latter was fair more deserving of a retaliation, in Erica's opinion.
Just then, she saw a hint of pink and black up ahead, and urged more speed out of her bike; it responded, and she ramped off of a broken boardwalk to close the distance as much as she could manage at that moment. Erica was close enough for her augmented eye to pick up on the protection field around MacGrath's bike; seeing it brought a genuine snort of amusement - the last time Erica had tried to get through that, she had nearly lost a hand and had to finish the rest of the race with one good arm. The scars stung a lot less than the smug looks she was subject to for the rest of that season, but it could have gone a lot worse; now, the scars remain to remind her not to punch people fond of lasers.
As the streets widened, the jumble thinned out to something resembling order; however, it would be a terrible idea to relax - old buildings crumbled and creaked with every passing second, with the rubble from ones that had already fallen littering the cracked roads. Since they were on hoverbikes, they could avoid the worst of it, but one wrong move could mean a catastrophe. On the big corners, stands had been set up for the viewers and gamblers, hastily constructed out of ruins. Others just watched from the streets, taking their lives into their own hands; sometimes in the past, there had been reports of people like that just going missing, with no explanation. But, the population of the city was so huge, and the abandoned city so vast that no one looked into it too far.
Camera droids appeared in greater number as Erica caught up with MacGrath, pushing her custom bike to its limit; she knew her rival had access to much better gear, but pressure is what it is - and Erica worked well under pressure. On the other hand, her bike could not keep this pace up forever without risking malfunction; she would either have to rely on MacGrath to make a mistake, or to just pray fate was kind to her. For now though, Erica kept up the breakneck speed that had them neck and neck.
"Christ, she's going all out this time..." Erica thought, glancing across.
Just then, she saw a hint of pink and black up ahead, and urged more speed out of her bike; it responded, and she ramped off of a broken boardwalk to close the distance as much as she could manage at that moment. Erica was close enough for her augmented eye to pick up on the protection field around MacGrath's bike; seeing it brought a genuine snort of amusement - the last time Erica had tried to get through that, she had nearly lost a hand and had to finish the rest of the race with one good arm. The scars stung a lot less than the smug looks she was subject to for the rest of that season, but it could have gone a lot worse; now, the scars remain to remind her not to punch people fond of lasers.
As the streets widened, the jumble thinned out to something resembling order; however, it would be a terrible idea to relax - old buildings crumbled and creaked with every passing second, with the rubble from ones that had already fallen littering the cracked roads. Since they were on hoverbikes, they could avoid the worst of it, but one wrong move could mean a catastrophe. On the big corners, stands had been set up for the viewers and gamblers, hastily constructed out of ruins. Others just watched from the streets, taking their lives into their own hands; sometimes in the past, there had been reports of people like that just going missing, with no explanation. But, the population of the city was so huge, and the abandoned city so vast that no one looked into it too far.
Camera droids appeared in greater number as Erica caught up with MacGrath, pushing her custom bike to its limit; she knew her rival had access to much better gear, but pressure is what it is - and Erica worked well under pressure. On the other hand, her bike could not keep this pace up forever without risking malfunction; she would either have to rely on MacGrath to make a mistake, or to just pray fate was kind to her. For now though, Erica kept up the breakneck speed that had them neck and neck.
"Christ, she's going all out this time..." Erica thought, glancing across.
All around them, the crowds hooted and jeered as the gesture was broadcast live; Erica scowled, though her blacked out visor hid the expression from the cameras, her anger was obvious in the way that she tensed. Appearances demanded that she make a rebuttal, and she was only too happy to deliver; looking around at the cameras, she pointed at her rival's back and then jerked her arm up into an L shape, while slapping the elbow with her other hand. Now, not all of the crowds' mockery was directed at her, and she was able to save some face; but in a grudging sort of way way, Erica was thankful for the interaction - having a rival was never a bad start for any rookie looking to get noticed. If she won this race, she could sell her old place and get some new digs - perfect to fill with booze, and pleasurable company to keep her bed warm.
Erica took her place on the line, somewhat to the left of the middle; a dangerous place to be - after the start, all the racers would rush towards the middle in an attempt to pull ahead, and that's when a lot of crashes happened. Glancing from side to side, she plotted ways to use the imminent chaos to her advantage. After all, she was not above fighting dirty and neither were half of the others; there were countless times she could recall being punched or kicked in that knot of racers. This time, her new visual augment would give her a sharp advantage - she now knew precisely where to strike; it was as if she was surveying the very blueprints of each bike, each little error now a glaring flaw. And target.
The lights turned orange, fusion engines started to buzz.
"Right biker. Visor is cracked..."
The lights turned yellow, Erica hunkered down on her bike.
"Left biker. Steering is wobbly..."
All sounds of the crowds' excitement was drowned out in the roar of at least thirty hoverbikes surging forward as the lights turned green. Exhileration filled Erica as she picked up speed; the racer that had been to her right attempted to cut her off as they tore towards the already-forming throng of hoverbikes. Her arm shot out like a piston, catching the other rider in the side of his visor; the steel implements in her glove shattered it and cracked his helmet, sending him reeling off of his bike onto the unforgiving road below. Erica shook her hand to dispel the numbness, before focusing on mavouvering through her opponents, looking to catch up with her rival. There was no time to contemplate the fate of the poor sod she had knocked out cold.
Erica took her place on the line, somewhat to the left of the middle; a dangerous place to be - after the start, all the racers would rush towards the middle in an attempt to pull ahead, and that's when a lot of crashes happened. Glancing from side to side, she plotted ways to use the imminent chaos to her advantage. After all, she was not above fighting dirty and neither were half of the others; there were countless times she could recall being punched or kicked in that knot of racers. This time, her new visual augment would give her a sharp advantage - she now knew precisely where to strike; it was as if she was surveying the very blueprints of each bike, each little error now a glaring flaw. And target.
The lights turned orange, fusion engines started to buzz.
"Right biker. Visor is cracked..."
The lights turned yellow, Erica hunkered down on her bike.
"Left biker. Steering is wobbly..."
All sounds of the crowds' excitement was drowned out in the roar of at least thirty hoverbikes surging forward as the lights turned green. Exhileration filled Erica as she picked up speed; the racer that had been to her right attempted to cut her off as they tore towards the already-forming throng of hoverbikes. Her arm shot out like a piston, catching the other rider in the side of his visor; the steel implements in her glove shattered it and cracked his helmet, sending him reeling off of his bike onto the unforgiving road below. Erica shook her hand to dispel the numbness, before focusing on mavouvering through her opponents, looking to catch up with her rival. There was no time to contemplate the fate of the poor sod she had knocked out cold.
Most of Erica's living space was a workshop, with a curtain separating a room off to one side that was her bedroom, and a door across from that which led to a cramped bathroom. Heading into her room, she changed into her racing leathers; they were a bit scuffed, but otherwise in good shape. The more well-off racers -that lived long enough- could afford the thermal skinsuits that regulated body temperature and resisted fire, among other things; but, her leathers had served her well enough, and besides - the skinsuits looked like they gave a wedge-up something fierce. Erica fastened her helmet on, the visor sliding smoothly shut with a beep; her gloves were last, the knuckles had been rather covertly reinforced with steel, should she ever need to "help" someone get knocked out of a race.
Now dressed, Erica headed back out into the workshop, where her hoverbike stood ready. It was a work of love, and a lot of time and patience; she had assembled it herself out of the scraps left from crashes, but the more delicate pieces she had bought with her own hard-earned cash. In the beginning, each race was a test - she worked out what needed to be replaced, and what could be improved; the reward for her labour was a hardy bike that could accelerate like a much newer model, and was built just for her. The bike was painted mostly navy blue, but she kept a few parts unpainted to maintain the sort of mismatched charm it possessed.
Erica hopped onto the bike and pressed the ignition button, it started with a ready purr, lifting a foot or so off of the ground.
"Not so old, are you girl?" she chuckled and patted the bike affectionately, before setting off on her journey.
Night had truly fallen by the time she reached the service tunnels; the hosts -some bigwig corporation- had organised an unofficial shuttle of sorts for the wealthier gamblers; everyone else was on foot if they had not brought their own transport. Thankfully, the tunnels were mostly deserted for the time being, as the racers were required to get there first; the route was illuminated with a liberal use of phosphor gel; too liberal, in Erica's opinion. Did no one give two shits about being subtle anymore? Well, it was the final, so theatrics could take literally any form, however impractical or risky. Erica shook her head to focus herself, drawing back her mind from the tangent it had wandered off to to deal with the nerves twisting and knotting in her stomach. No time for nervousness, it made you timid - and timid racers get knocked out easily.
Finally, the tunnels opened out into what used to be an old square within the abandoned city; the crumbling buildings looked ominous and then some, but it was a relief to get out of that cramped, damp route with the water roaring overhead. Erica sat back for a moment and scanned the large group of her fellow racers parked nearby, looking for that telltale pink and black bike, her nerves settling down in the place of cool determination. If it was there, she did not see it; instead she sped over to the group and braked sharply at the last moment, every inch the cocky rookie.
Now dressed, Erica headed back out into the workshop, where her hoverbike stood ready. It was a work of love, and a lot of time and patience; she had assembled it herself out of the scraps left from crashes, but the more delicate pieces she had bought with her own hard-earned cash. In the beginning, each race was a test - she worked out what needed to be replaced, and what could be improved; the reward for her labour was a hardy bike that could accelerate like a much newer model, and was built just for her. The bike was painted mostly navy blue, but she kept a few parts unpainted to maintain the sort of mismatched charm it possessed.
Erica hopped onto the bike and pressed the ignition button, it started with a ready purr, lifting a foot or so off of the ground.
"Not so old, are you girl?" she chuckled and patted the bike affectionately, before setting off on her journey.
Night had truly fallen by the time she reached the service tunnels; the hosts -some bigwig corporation- had organised an unofficial shuttle of sorts for the wealthier gamblers; everyone else was on foot if they had not brought their own transport. Thankfully, the tunnels were mostly deserted for the time being, as the racers were required to get there first; the route was illuminated with a liberal use of phosphor gel; too liberal, in Erica's opinion. Did no one give two shits about being subtle anymore? Well, it was the final, so theatrics could take literally any form, however impractical or risky. Erica shook her head to focus herself, drawing back her mind from the tangent it had wandered off to to deal with the nerves twisting and knotting in her stomach. No time for nervousness, it made you timid - and timid racers get knocked out easily.
Finally, the tunnels opened out into what used to be an old square within the abandoned city; the crumbling buildings looked ominous and then some, but it was a relief to get out of that cramped, damp route with the water roaring overhead. Erica sat back for a moment and scanned the large group of her fellow racers parked nearby, looking for that telltale pink and black bike, her nerves settling down in the place of cool determination. If it was there, she did not see it; instead she sped over to the group and braked sharply at the last moment, every inch the cocky rookie.
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