View Full Version : Living The Life (Wipeout HD fan-fiction, OCs)

23rd July 2012, 03:37 PM
I hope you enjoy my fiction. It's set in 2206, at the beginning of the FX350 league, and it stars some OCs. ;) I've wondered about whether or not to include characters from the team profiles, but I figured I would have more creative freedom if I used my own imagination and laws. Regardless, I hope you enjoy the show! :)

Chapter 1
On a small, Hawaiian island in the middle of the north Pacific; James Sorgiovanni stood on a balcony, looked up at the sky, took a deep breath of the crisp morning air, and grinned. He glanced about him, taking in the lights and spires of the city of Vineta. He examined the huge grandstands, filled to the brim with people; shouting, cheering and generally making noise and bustle and enjoying themselves. He grinned at them. He watched the columns of civilian ships march across the sky, and grinned at that. He watched the circuit disappear into the ground in both directions, curving around and down beneath the ocean through specially constructed tunnels. He grinned at that. Towering over the circuit were the great spires of the Vineta G-ball Stadium, and he grinned at those, too. He loved it, every detail of it, and he could scarcely believe he was here.

This love affair had started very simply; the year after his birth, the Anti-Gravity Rebirth Festival was held. AG-racing videos on the net and days sitting in front of the TV watching the ships go around had fascinated him throughout his childhood. A hobby turned into an obsession in the form of hover kart racing, and throughout school he followed his idols throughout their careers; He was a fanatic, but a skilled one, and he was eventually noticed – at 17, he competed in a nationwide test of skill at the stick – out of thousands of nominees, he was within the 6% that were awarded scholarships with major racing organisations.

During those years, he followed the racing leagues, watched as teams rose and fell, and imagined what it would be like. He imagined himself as naļve to ever think that he would one day be in the pilot’s pod – the incredible locations, the atmosphere, the look of the ships, the long days fixing up scratches and toying with the machines that were as much a friend to you as any person was – that was for professionals. It was silly to think that he could partake in that life.
But here he was, in Vineta, miles from his humble flat in . It had taken almost no time at all, in such a rush did the weeks fly by – but it had started very simply, with a small proposal mailed to him to visit a particular place at a particular time. On a whim, he had decided he would, on the basis that he had nothing better to do that day. He often wondered what life would be like had he chose not to.

The decision to show up and race for the small private event had impressed the FIESAR scouting teams. James had not realised they were there until he was approached afterwards.
“Would you like to sign with us?” they had asked – he agreed. Within two weeks he packed up his belongings and was shipped out to the FEISAR headquarters. He had been introduced to the ship, he had flown, he had impressed again. They chose to keep him.

Standing atop Vineta’s Ignition Spire, he was able to see the track in its entirety. “The K”. That’s what the other pilots called it; Vineta-K, the world-famous paradise island circuit, 50% underwater tunnels, where brightly coloured hovercraft came to race and do battle, and where thousands of spectators would pack stands to watch a race that would be over in just under two minutes.

It was completely fantastical, something out of science fiction. But it was real, and he was here. And what’s more, he was flying in it.

He turned and headed inside, calling a lift. A projection on the far wall noted the time: 8:55. Soon, the pre-race entertainment would start up. Already a stage was being set up in front of the stands, and a band had begun unpacking amps and instruments, getting ready to begin.

Using a holo-panel on the wall, he instructed the lift to take him to street level, which it did without fuss. He made his way through the island streets, entering an office tower and descending to the underground levels where the teams’ garages were located. The lift doors opened onto the most decorated garage in history.

Chapter 2
FEISAR‘s garage had been decked out in flags, banners, posters and other decorative items in preparation for the big race. The garage was fairly simple. There were few rooms; a small foyer led into a very large garage. A couple of doors indicated smaller rooms next to the foyer. One was an office, while the other was a conference room. Team accommodation was handled elsewhere.

On the far side of the garage was a huge roller-door, big enough to require several motors to make sure one side didn’t open faster than the other. It led out into a sort of pit straight, situated under the main track; it held the lift-locks that hoisted the ships into the correct spots on the track. Every team garage connected to it in a long row of roller-doors.

The main garage itself was kept neat and mostly tidy, although in the corners there were always piles of spare parts, toolboxes, computing equipment or any of the thousand other objects one would expect to find in a workshop. Across the side of the room was a large array of computer monitors; the data centre for the pit crew. But the main attraction was three large ship jacks, each cradling an inactive Feisar craft.

An AG ship is a sight to behold, even when it isn’t floating, and James never got tired of looking at them. One of the ships was blue, one was white, and one was yellow. He paid extra special attention to the white one, because that was his. He grinned at it, his eye following the edges of the wings as they curled around and cradled the exposed engine and thrusters. The line of the wings took his eye across the cockpit and down the converging lines of the main body, sticking out in front like a bullet.

As he watched, lights began to flash on the furthest ship, the yellow one. Red and blue warning lights appeared three times, before the engine ticked over with a noise not unlike a grenade going off. Flame leapt from the back and the four feet on the ship jack separated, releasing the craft. It bobbed into the air and floated there with a thunderous whistling that filled the garage and deafened anyone unfortunate enough to be standing too close.

After only a few seconds, a crew member stood in front of the ship and raised his hand in the air, signalling to the pilot: Three, two, one – the engine cut, the feet of the ship jack moved back into position, and the craft dropped neatly onto them and was silent. Several crewmembers quickly turned their attention to one of the accountants, who had been doing paperwork on the floor of the garage and had his shirt set on fire by the initial blast.

Before too long, the hatch for the yellow ship swung open, and the pilot climbed out, stepping lightly over the wing of the craft and jumping down to ground level. Tore Buzacott smiled at James. He was a tall man with a goatee and fierce loyalty towards leather jackets. He was also FEISAR’s senior pilot and was competing in the race as James’s co-pilot. ‘A driving instructor’, the team coordinator had put it, and Tore had been happy to oblige. He knew that James had talent and showed promise but needed to be guided a little more.

He gave a small wave to James and then motioned to the ship he had just clambered out of.

“G’day. I was just making sure the backup actually worked. Good to see you up so early.”

James blinked, a bit confused by the comment.

“Early? It’s past 9 o’clock…”

“Well, yeah, but some pilots might sleep in, depending on when the race is.” James still looked blank, so Tore gave a small shrug. “Anyway, I looked at the calendar. What a coincidence, hmm?”

James stared. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, you’re 21 today. Isn’t it a coincidence that your birthday is on the same day as your first race this season?”

James hadn’t thought about that before, and Tore sensed this and moved on. “Okay, well, there’s going to be a slightly different arrangement today.”

“How so?”

“Well, instead of us giving you presents, maybe you can give everyone a big present by flying well in the race. You don’t have to win outright, as it’s tough out there, but we don’t think it’d be too much of a stretch for you to finish in the first half of the grid.”

James nodded. “Yeah, I guess I could do that. When does the qualifying start?”

Tore glanced at the notice board and calendar, situated next to the data ranks.

“Well, it’s all here on the board. Practice starts in about an hour. Qualifying happens after the practice session, as usual. Pull off the best time in Qualifying, and you’ll get pole. Be careful not to run the ship into anything, though; it’s bad for morale.”

Before he could continue, the team coordinator approached them. Antony Sandham was a kind person at heart, but often cast an air of impatience or snappiness without meaning to. He was doing it now, and James took a step back. Antony pretended not to notice and showed him a clipboard. There were lots of notes in very cursive writing that James was unable to comprehend.

“Morning, James. I presume Tore’s already told you the itinerary?” James said yes, but Antony repeated it anyway. “Remember, he’ll be in the seat behind you. Listen to what he says, because he won’t be able to prevent you from crashing.” He nodded. “Also, is the craft flying okay? There’s not anything we need to change, is there?”

James shrugged. “Not last time I checked. I haven’t had a chance to fly it yet, though.”

“Oh. That’s too bad. Well, let me know when you can.” He swept off to interrogate some lanning IT workers about the coms system, and they reluctantly shut down their games and went off to do some actual work. They were putting tiny remote cameras on the craft so that the pit crew could monitor their progress. In fact, more team members were arriving than beforehand and an air of expectancy had started to fall over the garage. James busied himself climbing into the cockpit of his own craft. Without the engine on, he tested the airbrakes, the onboard systems and the comfort of the seat, making sure everything was perfect. Before much more could be done, PA systems across the garage barked into life.

“Hello and welcome to Vineta K. A very good morning to all the spectators and teams that have shown up today to support their nations and pilots. Round 1 of the hover-kart championship is about to begin, with 24 racers competing for top spot today. We hope you enjoy the show, and remember that there are drinks and food available in the north stall…”

Eventually the PA stopped droning and the karts were unleashed on the track. Most of the crew sat and watched it; junior hover kart racing on official league tracks was a fairly recent development designed to ease the transition to the real thing. While hover karting had always been around, this year was the first time it was being done on league tracks. James suspected that part of the reason was also simply to prevent people becoming bored during the day.

Before long, the karts were over, the track packed up, and the practice session began. James climbed back into the ship, followed by Tore, who smiled. “Alright. Let’s see what you can do.” James nodded, waiting for the signal to start.

After the garage door was opened and the accountant asked to move somewhere safer, James switched the ship on. With a large bang the thruster ignited and the ship rose up, free of the confines of gravity that cruelly restricted everything else. Another signal from the pit master and they coasted into the main lane, stopping on a lift lock and being raised to track level. With a grin, James joined with the traffic already on the circuit, kicked down the throttle, and fired the ship forward.

1st August 2012, 06:47 PM
Hey this is lovely :D
Looking forward to the next chapters
btw, no offense, u seem using the word "grin" quite often

3rd August 2012, 06:00 AM
Thanks for the feedback! :)
This being the first chapter, I'll probably continually go back and edit it to include information I missed the first time. Eventually this editing should stop. :P

Amaroq Dricaldari
12th August 2012, 02:09 AM
I wonder how many times a pilot accidentally parked their craft in another team's garage...