||MPC 29|Takara|Kart|| One Speed Hoverboard
Mar 15, 2016 22:53:28 GMT
Post by Takara Kureha on Mar 15, 2016 22:53:28 GMT
((Bits, please.))
It was a dark and stormy night. Okay, so it wasn't. But it should have been, so let's just pretend it was. Takara Kureha approached the race track. If it weren't for the fact that it was bright and sunny out, he would have been drenched by the rain. The Xros General approached a shady (Read: Kindly) old man and whispered, "Hey. I hear you're the one to go to, if gold is what you seek." And to this, the old man replied, "Aye, that and then some. Come with me, boy, if gold be what ye seek." Old man and young man, both walked off into the night in pursuit of their dreams.
Or, in a more accurate rendition of the proceedings, Takara Kureha approaches the old man. "Hey, old man. I hear you can help me get some gold." The old man is confused for a moment, before being struck by understanding. "Oh, the underground racing circuit, is it? A shrimp like you?" He looked over the scrawny, dirty boy before him. "Well, I've done more, with worse. Come then, let's get you cleaned up, and see what you can do." And with that, he led the boy off.
One hot bath and a change of clothes later, Takara Kureha was unrecognizable as himself. But that didn't really matter. What mattered was that he now no longer smelled so strongly. Now, the old man was actually willing to let Takara into the garage. "Well? See anything you like?" The old man directed Takara's gaze to a wide variety of racers, in every shape and size. But Takara was a tough sell, and he wasn't satisfied with any he was offered.
"Say, old man... What about making my own. Think we could swing that?" The old man grinned at this, but chided, "I have a name, you know!" But... He didn't actually offer that name. Nor did Takara care. Other people... Weren't exactly his forte. "Whaddya have in mind, kid?" The old man had been subjected to all sorts of crazy schematics, impossible designs, and sometimes, just plain silly. So Takara's response of, "Rocket. Powered. Hoverboard." was not exactly outside of his expertise.
What was outside of his expertise, however, was Takara's claim of already having a hoverboard, and just needing a rocket attached to it. More specifically, the hoverboard that Takara Kureha claimed to have. "Kid... You do know that that's a Digimon, right? A Hagurumon? Not a hoverboard." He was slightly disconcerted by the creature's lack of complaints about being referred to as a hoverboard. But Takara insisted, and Hagurumon did not refute.
It ended up being an exceedingly simple task. A few zip ties here, some duct tape there... Voila! One rocket powered hoverboard. With Takara Kureha happily standing on top. The old man... Was starting to regret this. Wasn't it wrong to strap a rocket to a sentient being for fun and profit? He offered this query to the much younger human. "Who cares!? It's awesome!" And with that, all doubts and regrets were quenched, doused, sealed. It was time... To race.
Or rather, it was time to fix the hole in the wall, and peel Takara and Hagurumon off the wall of the next room. He had told them! Told them not to turn it on inside! The old man sighed. Of course Takara hadn't listened. They never listened. Oh well, maybe the next glory seeking idiot would be smart enough to be more than another stain on the living room wall. Now, where did he put that mega-sized spatula, again?
But when the old man came to scrape Takara off his wall, he found the boy cackling madly. "Let's do it again!" the boy declared, earning himself a smack on the back of the head. "Not in the house, y'idjit! I'm the one who has to pay for those holes, you know!" Takara could care less, but then, he could also care less about being in the house. It was time to take this party to the racetrack! Just... As soon... As... He... Pulled... Hagurumon... Out... Of... The... Wall...
Finally, with a great heave, Takara and the old man freed the gear from its plaster prison. All three fell to the floor, with Takara jumping up almost immediately. But he didn't check on the old man, nor did he check on his 'partner.' No, rather predictably, Takara's first order of business was making sure the rockets were still in working condition. There was no second order of business. Rockets on, and he took off with a "Yee-ha!" and a vrooom.
Takara's path was fairly obvious. A gear and human shaped dent in this wall, this door, this car, this tree, this old lady. Wait, what was that last one? Too late! Gotta go fast! Takara... Had absolutely no control over his ride. After fourteen crashes... He finally gave up and accepted that he needed to learn how to turn. Turns out, it was easier said than done. Who would have guessed that swiping left would not, in fact, cause you to turn left!? Nor did pointing his thumb right, or even shifting his entire body to the right!
In a twist that probably would have been more obvious before the concussions caused by a multitude of high speed crashes, Takara discovered that a turning mechanism had been built in. The rocket itself was on a swivel! No, wait, the base had just come loose from all the crashes. Same difference. Rocket turns, board turns! Simple! Sure, he only had to scare a dozen people half to death to figure it out! Who cared! He could turn! Now, he was ready for the races!
Except for one eensy weensy itty bitty tiny little thing. Takara had absolutely no idea where the racetrack was! As one of the innocent bystanders he asked for directions put it, "The underground race track? The top secret probably illegal race track? Nope, never heard of it... Sucker." Not that Takara heard half of it, zipping along as he was! Even the one person who was actually willing to tell him, he blasted right past! So much for winning the gold!
But as luck would have it, one of his numerous crashes ended with both boy and hover-rocket-board at the starting line. The announcers were about as shocked as the audience, but... They gave up and rolled with it. "It appears we have a last minute entrance, folks! Let's hear it for..." Whaddya mean they didn't have a name for him? Wasn't he a registered racer!? That said, there was no registration for this race! "Can this newcomer hold his own against our intrepid veterans?" Please. Nobody was listening, anyways. Who would care that they changed lines in the middle.
The one man who did care was rudely evicted from the stadium, as a foghorn blew to signal the start of the race! or was it a pistol? Heck, it could have been a rooster's cry! Nobody really cared! What mattered was that the race was off! And despite a small false start which sent Takara slamming into yet another wall, he was comfortable doing this, Until he hit another wall. But after the third wall, he was sure he had the hang of this!
Fortunately for him, the other racers had been 'sensible' with their racers. Conventional propulsion, not the rocket engine he had strapped to a gear! For all his crashes, he could catch up in the blink of an eye! Only to crash again. But only every time he turned a curve! The end of the race was on a straight! Straights were his specialty! And besides, he had three whole laps to figure out the finicky controls on this thing. He was sure it would be fine.
As it turned out, it was. After one last crash as he was rounding the last corner of the second lap, Takara thought he had it. And he did, taking the next corner with ease. And so he passed eleventh place, tenth place, sixth place, fourth place... All the way to the lead! Nothing could stop him now! Takara Kureha was the winner of the Gold! Heck yeah! The Treasure Hunter strikes again!
Or so he thought. But, just as the young Treasure Hunter neared the finish... His rocket let out a sputter. And he lost altitude, Hagurumon crashing into the ground. What!? What was this!? Oh. He was out of gas. And the repeated crashes had knocked Hagurumon out cold, rendering him inable to crawl those last few feet to the finish. Maybe this would teach Takara a valuable lesson about taking care of his partner, as the racers he had just passed cruised ahead of him to finish the race.
Then again, this is Takara Kureha we are talking about.
It was a dark and stormy night. Okay, so it wasn't. But it should have been, so let's just pretend it was. Takara Kureha approached the race track. If it weren't for the fact that it was bright and sunny out, he would have been drenched by the rain. The Xros General approached a shady (Read: Kindly) old man and whispered, "Hey. I hear you're the one to go to, if gold is what you seek." And to this, the old man replied, "Aye, that and then some. Come with me, boy, if gold be what ye seek." Old man and young man, both walked off into the night in pursuit of their dreams.
Or, in a more accurate rendition of the proceedings, Takara Kureha approaches the old man. "Hey, old man. I hear you can help me get some gold." The old man is confused for a moment, before being struck by understanding. "Oh, the underground racing circuit, is it? A shrimp like you?" He looked over the scrawny, dirty boy before him. "Well, I've done more, with worse. Come then, let's get you cleaned up, and see what you can do." And with that, he led the boy off.
One hot bath and a change of clothes later, Takara Kureha was unrecognizable as himself. But that didn't really matter. What mattered was that he now no longer smelled so strongly. Now, the old man was actually willing to let Takara into the garage. "Well? See anything you like?" The old man directed Takara's gaze to a wide variety of racers, in every shape and size. But Takara was a tough sell, and he wasn't satisfied with any he was offered.
"Say, old man... What about making my own. Think we could swing that?" The old man grinned at this, but chided, "I have a name, you know!" But... He didn't actually offer that name. Nor did Takara care. Other people... Weren't exactly his forte. "Whaddya have in mind, kid?" The old man had been subjected to all sorts of crazy schematics, impossible designs, and sometimes, just plain silly. So Takara's response of, "Rocket. Powered. Hoverboard." was not exactly outside of his expertise.
What was outside of his expertise, however, was Takara's claim of already having a hoverboard, and just needing a rocket attached to it. More specifically, the hoverboard that Takara Kureha claimed to have. "Kid... You do know that that's a Digimon, right? A Hagurumon? Not a hoverboard." He was slightly disconcerted by the creature's lack of complaints about being referred to as a hoverboard. But Takara insisted, and Hagurumon did not refute.
It ended up being an exceedingly simple task. A few zip ties here, some duct tape there... Voila! One rocket powered hoverboard. With Takara Kureha happily standing on top. The old man... Was starting to regret this. Wasn't it wrong to strap a rocket to a sentient being for fun and profit? He offered this query to the much younger human. "Who cares!? It's awesome!" And with that, all doubts and regrets were quenched, doused, sealed. It was time... To race.
Or rather, it was time to fix the hole in the wall, and peel Takara and Hagurumon off the wall of the next room. He had told them! Told them not to turn it on inside! The old man sighed. Of course Takara hadn't listened. They never listened. Oh well, maybe the next glory seeking idiot would be smart enough to be more than another stain on the living room wall. Now, where did he put that mega-sized spatula, again?
But when the old man came to scrape Takara off his wall, he found the boy cackling madly. "Let's do it again!" the boy declared, earning himself a smack on the back of the head. "Not in the house, y'idjit! I'm the one who has to pay for those holes, you know!" Takara could care less, but then, he could also care less about being in the house. It was time to take this party to the racetrack! Just... As soon... As... He... Pulled... Hagurumon... Out... Of... The... Wall...
Finally, with a great heave, Takara and the old man freed the gear from its plaster prison. All three fell to the floor, with Takara jumping up almost immediately. But he didn't check on the old man, nor did he check on his 'partner.' No, rather predictably, Takara's first order of business was making sure the rockets were still in working condition. There was no second order of business. Rockets on, and he took off with a "Yee-ha!" and a vrooom.
Takara's path was fairly obvious. A gear and human shaped dent in this wall, this door, this car, this tree, this old lady. Wait, what was that last one? Too late! Gotta go fast! Takara... Had absolutely no control over his ride. After fourteen crashes... He finally gave up and accepted that he needed to learn how to turn. Turns out, it was easier said than done. Who would have guessed that swiping left would not, in fact, cause you to turn left!? Nor did pointing his thumb right, or even shifting his entire body to the right!
In a twist that probably would have been more obvious before the concussions caused by a multitude of high speed crashes, Takara discovered that a turning mechanism had been built in. The rocket itself was on a swivel! No, wait, the base had just come loose from all the crashes. Same difference. Rocket turns, board turns! Simple! Sure, he only had to scare a dozen people half to death to figure it out! Who cared! He could turn! Now, he was ready for the races!
Except for one eensy weensy itty bitty tiny little thing. Takara had absolutely no idea where the racetrack was! As one of the innocent bystanders he asked for directions put it, "The underground race track? The top secret probably illegal race track? Nope, never heard of it... Sucker." Not that Takara heard half of it, zipping along as he was! Even the one person who was actually willing to tell him, he blasted right past! So much for winning the gold!
But as luck would have it, one of his numerous crashes ended with both boy and hover-rocket-board at the starting line. The announcers were about as shocked as the audience, but... They gave up and rolled with it. "It appears we have a last minute entrance, folks! Let's hear it for..." Whaddya mean they didn't have a name for him? Wasn't he a registered racer!? That said, there was no registration for this race! "Can this newcomer hold his own against our intrepid veterans?" Please. Nobody was listening, anyways. Who would care that they changed lines in the middle.
The one man who did care was rudely evicted from the stadium, as a foghorn blew to signal the start of the race! or was it a pistol? Heck, it could have been a rooster's cry! Nobody really cared! What mattered was that the race was off! And despite a small false start which sent Takara slamming into yet another wall, he was comfortable doing this, Until he hit another wall. But after the third wall, he was sure he had the hang of this!
Fortunately for him, the other racers had been 'sensible' with their racers. Conventional propulsion, not the rocket engine he had strapped to a gear! For all his crashes, he could catch up in the blink of an eye! Only to crash again. But only every time he turned a curve! The end of the race was on a straight! Straights were his specialty! And besides, he had three whole laps to figure out the finicky controls on this thing. He was sure it would be fine.
As it turned out, it was. After one last crash as he was rounding the last corner of the second lap, Takara thought he had it. And he did, taking the next corner with ease. And so he passed eleventh place, tenth place, sixth place, fourth place... All the way to the lead! Nothing could stop him now! Takara Kureha was the winner of the Gold! Heck yeah! The Treasure Hunter strikes again!
Or so he thought. But, just as the young Treasure Hunter neared the finish... His rocket let out a sputter. And he lost altitude, Hagurumon crashing into the ground. What!? What was this!? Oh. He was out of gas. And the repeated crashes had knocked Hagurumon out cold, rendering him inable to crawl those last few feet to the finish. Maybe this would teach Takara a valuable lesson about taking care of his partner, as the racers he had just passed cruised ahead of him to finish the race.
Then again, this is Takara Kureha we are talking about.
