Swoop Racing for Dummies... And Trees. (Montana)

[Celty Ikon]

Celty was seriously excited. Today's race was going to be against some great people, and the redhead was always ready to go up against great racers. Especially since he had basically hired all the bookies for this race. Whether or not he won, he'd still make at least a couple of weeks worth of money.

So, he watched the racers go to their pits, and the patrons go up into the ramparts that surrounded the dangerous little swoop track in the middle of nowhere. And he grinned wildly at every moron who asked for his worthless autograph, and every rich old gangster who silently nodded at him.

[member='Montana']

 

[Montana]

Hu-uh Hu-uh Hu-uh Hurrrghk Vomit spewed from Montana’s mouth onto the ground, with some flecks splashing on the boots of the human swoop rider next to him. “Sorry.” He said despite the swoop rider’s lack of attention. How did I get myself into this? Montana thought to himself, knowing the answer. He really had to stop getting drunk on Muja fruit. He always got into trouble when he enjoyed a couple Muja fruit, it never failed. And in this case the trouble was getting himself into a swoop bike race he wasn’t ready for. Drunken and Tired, he played on top of his borrowed bike in the sun to gain the necessary nutrients to recover. Isn’t photosynthesis grand? He thought as he watched a redheaded man sign a couple of autographs with a huge smile on his face. "Kriffer." He whispered to himself as he turned over back to the swoop rider who had his vomit on his shoes. “Somebody should really clean this up.” He said as the swoop rider back stepped right onto the green mush pile. It took a lot for Montana not too laugh.

[member="Celty Ikon"]

 

[Celty Ikon]

Celty looked over towards the sounds of retching, raising his eyebrows as he saw the palest guy he'd ever seen cough up some kind of green stuff. And then he had to hold back a laugh as some pilot who was harrying him stepped into the puddle of green goop. The pilot looked like he was probably going to give the rookie a hard time about it, and... However much Celty liked winning, he didn't like bullying random newcomers. It was once he got to know the newcomers that he decided whether or not to bully them.

The pilot blanched when he felt cold metal on his shoulder, and his eyes widened in fright when he saw that Celty was at the other end of his hammer. Pissing off the man who made sure you got paid for your races, well... didn't pay. Before any words were even exchanged, the man knew to back off to his pit. Celty gave the man a look of sheer loathing, and then let his hammer rest on the ground while he talked to the rookie, "Well... I've never seen you around here before. Or that bike... I'm damn sure it needs a tune-up."

[member="Montana"]

 

[Montana]

Montana couldn’t help it but his response to the man’s observations was more of the green, sweet and fruity smelling vomit he had already honored another swoop rider with. At least this time it went over the opposite side of the bike and didn’t get on anyone. “Oh Kark. That one hurt coming up.” he said turned away from the swoop rider he’d referred to as a “Kriffer” earlier.

He turned back after wiping his mouth of the green goo with a handkerchief. Placing the handkerchief in his jacket’s left breast pocket, Montana swallowed his recent embarrassment and replied “Yeah. I’m just passing through. I heard about this race a couple hours ago and thought it’d be fun.” He put his hand over his mouth as the mention of hours ago brought back the memory of Muja fruit after Muja fruit among cantina strangers who had become friends. “My buddy assured me this thing wasn’t pretty but that it ran like a dream. I’m not sure if I trust him as I did only meet him in a bar a couple of hours ago.” Montana shrugged. “I take it you’re a regular?” Montana leaned against the borrowed bike as he looked the guy up and down.

[member="Celty Ikon"]