I. When the Sun Sets, 1st Installment

[(F)Kusu]

(Posted Image)

Pulling his hair into a tight pony tail, an ominous figure entered the dark room. Monitors spread around him, cameras zooming into the depths of the black mask he wore. His smile, as taunt as ever, addressed the blinding lights that enveloped his frame. He sat down before a desktop pc, fingers spreading like spider legs, pounding into the keyboard with the authority of experience.

Codes and commands scrolled through the thousands of pixels spread before him, cameras zoomed into his masked features as the live broadcast began. The sign, the logo, of Fly High Inc. Hovered on the lower right corner of the screen while a direct upload onto the R.E.A.D system.

“Testing?” He whispered, voice coarse, as abrasive as sand travelling through the microphone, flourishing into distortion. A rasp of echoes, annoying and running in chaotic verses slowly unifying into one single voice; a dark tone, seducing.

“Well, Hello. I forgot the opening scroll and theme, didn’t I? Hold on.” Chuckling, the masked teen leaned back into the chair, arm extending to smash a finger on the keyboard – The video stopped, halted, then faded into a deep crimson. A cartoonish drawn fruit, a peach, could be seen in the centre of the screen while the silhouette of a vagabond ghost extended its chubby and fingerless hand to stroke it. Mouth opened gape; devoured the peach, and finally the colours faded into deep black lit by grey strokes of monotony. – The image of the teen resumed, leaning forward into the camera, smiling; a smile only seen in a stretch of black leather.

“Y’see, It’s not every day I do this... ‘cause it’s illegal. Talking about Illegal activities like breaking and hacking into a massive multi-millionaire company’s studio or screwing an underage school girl while cosplaying a character from bible black and mumbling demonic chants, the underground scene of Air Treks is... growing. Yeah, the same way your p e n i s grew when I made reference to sex and school girls and your fav. Hentai flick. “

Pausing to take a plain breath after the mouthful, the enigmatic host continued with the webcast: “K’so, some kids have made themselves famous amongst Storm Riders of both the legal Fly High Arena circuits, and the illegal-and-obviously-more-fun-and-important-parts-war underground circuits... Forget about the kings, these riders can call themselves Prince of their Roads.

Hell, rumours say some even the mighty king Sora Takeuchi goes pedobear when it comes to the up and cumin star, Sora Kiritani! Pun intended! I’ve had the bitter pleasure of meeting the guy, charmingly egotistical personality, with plenty of ability and skill to blow and ruffle his feathers... Fur, actually... Guy wears a fur parka! Spitfire look alike for the win, with black hair... bad cosplay? Anyway, though the guy treks up the ranks of prestige in legal matches, the guy’s raw potential and ability have gained him the respect of fellow Storm Riders.

He’s unbeaten so far. On the other hand, when it comes to illegal matches, we have two pronounced riders and teams I’d like to talk about.

First there’s this guy named Tai. He did one legal match, that’s about it. He’s active in the underground, though, rumoured to run the tracks of the rising road. Quite the personality, similar to Kiritani in many ways, but both are devoted riders. I had the privilege of racing against Tai... and winning... but, he’s awesome. He had a team composed of douche bags and assholery incarnate. I remember this one kid, Raikou, he thought he was a pokemon with motorized skates on!

Y’See, he wasn’t a big yellow lion that you can only catch with a masterball... he was easy to beat and dominate. I also raced him, and I won.

Anyway. There’s Sora and Tai, speed type riders, egotistic personalities with the skill to back up their pride. Then there’s Bando Akira. A true hybrid mix of strength and speed, wings spread with the might of a hawk; fists ready to come down, sharp and concise like a bird of prey’s beak... ATs as.. ehrm, rigid(?) as black talons ready to cleave into the fles-... You get it. He dominates the Cube, even while stuck in the rank of F because of his slow team. El Imperio; an empire of dreams. Kids who wear matching tattoos. They have this hot chick, a tuner, who works with them, and for them. Clearly not your usual F-Class team, you should look out for them. ” - The masked Storm Rider nodded, sympathetically, folding hands onto his laps as he tilted his head. Light hunted and prosecuted the shadows that hid under the ripples of his clothes, seeping the pores of his exposed arm; light bounced off his skin, teasing his exposed upper arm and the fresh tattoo that rested there. A moment of silence and he ventured into revery, before brown eyes widened in shock of a epiphany. “Oh! Before I forgot about Tuners... I heard there was a team of catholic school students that held small... gatherings, where they’d help the lazy storm riders that can’t manage to pay for new parts. Team Toul To, they call themselves a neutral entity trying to spread the wings of the countless earth-bound riders looming about.

Moving on... One day I raced with some guy nicknamed Deadman... it was somewhat unofficial, crazy hurdle where we raced to get a police officer’s hat. We both grabbed it, topped over each other in a mess of sweat, blood, spit and cries; all coming from the traumatized police officer as two Storm Riders crashed into him. Most fun I’ve had in a long while. If you see him around, try not to get kicked by his metal-shredding wheels.

The guys I’ve mentioned thus far, they’re cool... they’re manly men, they suppose. Then there’s these girls. Two, in particular, work in a pair, guiding the new team, Diamond Helix, under their motherly direction. One of them’s a real man, balls bigger than mine. She rocks like futanari, muscles hidden under her pretty blouse that could rip a grown man apart. Best of both worlds, the pretty little fang Takahashi Hisamaru is a force to be reckoned with. Standing at her side is a pretty little doll, a girl whose cold eyes are testament that beauty isn’t relative and instead factual. Porcelain and frozen, Abe Maria is such a gem... Anyway, then there’s some girl called Sunny. Sure, she believes in friendship and love and riding for fun... and that’s all bullshit, but y’know she’s too cute... foreign, too. You know you’d tap that. You’re still stroking, aren’t you? Maybe I shouldn’t have talked about Bible Black. I wonder how many of you paused this video, and opened up a new tab... Anyway, about Sunny, she’s also a promising kid... I raced with her too, and won. But, she’s cool.”

Leaning forward, The Storm Rider ran both hands over his head; fingers spread, gloved too, following the silhouette of his skull. “These riders... the ones I’ve mentioned, they all inherit the streets ‘cause teams like The Skull Saders, Behemoth, The Yaooo and The Kintetsu Bulls have been annihilated by the relatively gay police task force, Wing G-Men. Under the famed and fashionably challenged Shinjuku Crocodile, Kaito Wanjima, they seem to be tearing up the streets and a few body cavities with their rubber bullets.

Y’see, some speculate that they’ve sent a traitor, a maniacally enigmatic and psychopathic rapist... I mean, Storm Rider, to hunt down their most wanted prey. Victims feel nothing, but the itch of countless blades drawing the map of a bloody road on their bodies. Usually left dumb and too shocked to recall shit. The freak’s been hunting Storm Riders at night, so watch out. Wear chastity belts.” The rider leaned further forward into the camera, jutting a hand forward, finger pointing to his left. “There, on the video description, you’ll find a good link to a cute chastity belt you can use when you ride.

Anyway, in an interview The Shinjuku Crocodile, while leaning back with his usual swagger, made a statement assuring the crazy rider isn’t affiliated with the special police unit.”

He shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated shoulders, arms spreading in front of him like question marks. “We don’t know how many licks does it take to get to the centre of a tootsies pop but there must be some random guy on the net who does. Likewise, someone out there must know something of this stalkish enigma. Any comments? Drop by after hitting the little orange subscription button!... wait... this isn’t youtube. Anyway... Yeah. Y’know, just stick out for the next broadcast. Just remember, some guy named Era Memory still can’t win a match, pick on him if you want an easy win... but when you do, watch out for the G-Men. They’re active. Despite the casual tone in his voice, the rider strongly emphasized the fact the G-men were up and active.




Clicking off the cam, the rider ended the webcast and took out his cell. Quick fingers dialled a number then brought the phone to his ear. “Yeah man, Thanks for letting me use the system... Yeah, I’m sure kids will rather play it safe from now on... Gave them a scare? Nah... It’s fucking true, the G-Men are really hunting the company’s future clientele... Well, you can’t have clients if they’re doing time behind bars, bending over to pick up soap bars, amongst other things. Yeah, whatever. Thanks for the chance... oh, the mask? Yeah, I’m still wearing it... no wonder you can’t understand shit, y’know.”

Hanging up, Peach took off his mask, dropped it on the keyboard, and turned off the lights. The hall’s neon white filtered through the door’s frame, lighting up the ground at his feet. The light invaded the shadows as he opened the door, leaving his persona behind him as he left the studio... his studio.


~ Written by Peach

[(F)Kusu]

With the appearances of the alleged "Storm Stalker", the malicious presence that attacks Storm Riders in the veil of the night sky, the Wind G-Men have been frantically searching for a means to subdue him, only coming up short and slightly fulfilling their duties by capturing accessible targets- Riders with lesser skills.

1. A Fierce Gale - Assault of the G-Men

2. An Ominous Draft - The Hunter Stalks his Prey

For further coverage on these characters, refer to the following topics:

Part 3: Hospitalized, Part 4, Regaining One's Composure