OOC: Character development and ownership is in agreement with something I discussed with Nich a while ago.
The sounds of a crowd chanting his name filled his ears while he twisted the throttle on his dirt bike. Each wrist twitch shook the performance-tuned machine between his legs as he readied himself for his run. Focusing on the tunnel in front of him, he felt a tap on his shoulder and launched the bike down the well-worn dirt path. Taking aim at the first ramp, he tensed his body and accelerated to the ideal speed holding the throttle where it needed to be. Launched airborne both man and machine flipped through the air in a single rotation as he performed an inverted Kiss of Death. Pulling himself back onto the bike and finishing the flip, he landed softly a smile covering his face under his helmet. He could hear the crowd as clear as day after his landing and approach to the next jump. Launching into the air again he completed a double backflip with a no-handed landing to near perfection.
Each successive jump varied in difficulty yet he kept himself just on the right side of being perfect. Landing his final trick, he accelerated to the top of the largest landing hill and waved his arms in the air, removed his helmet and pumped it into the air with a smile on his face. He watched his score show up on the large video board and saw he was second, perfect, he thought. Hooking his helmet to the bikes handlebar he rode the powerful machine toward the pit area smiling as his team moved to take the bike from him while he stepped off of it. Pulling off his gloves, the young man winked toward a sponsor girl, his piercing blue eyes catching her off guard. Turning to head toward the podium area his agent slipped in next to him reminding him to thank each of their six primary sponsors and then handed him a Monster Energy Drink that he was supposed to drink out of while talking to the reporter who was going to interview him.
Making a show for the crowd he smiled passed the hundreds of flashing cameras and answered the questions from the reporters politely, referencing his sponsors, pretending to drink the Monster and also stating what he thought he could have done better on the run. Not a thing, he thought to himself while answering that question. After the chaos of the podium ceremony was over a blonde haired woman caught his hand and he turned looking into the face of a young woman dressed in jeans, a t-shirt that said “medical staff” on the front and back. Her green eyes locked onto him with a look that seemed to be able to peel paint off a wall in her current state of irritation. “I told you to report to the medical tent immediately after your run was finished, before any trips to the podium. Those broken ribs could have caused some serious damage had you jarred them at all during your last run.”
Rolling his eyes the rider peeled off his multicolored jersey before unsnapping his padded torso shell protecting his chest, back and shoulders. Slipping the protector off he finally raised his arms over his head and the blonde haired woman began to unwrap his ribs. Poking as she went the young man smiled and then looked around the room. He heard noises coming from miles away, his vision adjusted to examine people walking through various rooms of the medical facility and within one deep breath everything came back to focus on the room he sat in at the moment. Lowering his arms the woman tapped his elbow and he raised them once more as she began to wrap his ribs again. “I don’t see any more damage having been done but you need to be careful. A broken rib can puncture a lung.”
“I told you,’ the teenager’s half southern twang made the syllables stretch slightly as he spoke. “You worryin’ about my ribs is a waste of time. I told ya, I’m fine.”
Standing the young man grabbed a t-shirt and pulled it on covering his partially tattooed torso. Walking out of the medical facility, he heard a faint scream. Contemplating ignoring the scream, he continued to walk while tucking his hands into his riding pants. Ducking into his trailer the high school aged male grabbed a black motorcycle jacket with a distinctive “S” embossed on the front and slipped it on leaving it unzipped. Disappearing out of the trailer he used his super speed to disappear before launching himself into the sky. Hovering for a moment the young man focused and then found himself standing in front of a woman and two men with guns a short distance from the stadium in which the freestyle motocross event had taken place. Tilting his head for a moment the young man caught the first bullet fired in his direction. Within a fraction of a second, he disabled both men and removed the woman from danger. “Call 9-1-1 then head to the diner up the street. You’ll be safe there till the police arrive.”
Launching his body back into the sky he headed back toward the stadium landing by the Port-O-Potty area and walking in the direction of his trailer. His phone pinged a text and he read it while he continued to walk.
THE DOCTOR SAYS YOUR RIBS WILL HEAL IN TWO TO THREE WEEKS, RECOMMENDS BED REST
Stuffing his phone back into his pants the teenage boy ducked into the back of his trailer walking up the ramp noticing a pair of long, tanned, hairless legs hanging off the side of one of his motorcycles. Making eye contact with the same green eyes from earlier, he smirked as she turned her body to follow his movements. Grabbing a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, he leaned against the cool metal for a moment. “You’re going to have to actually start listening to my medical suggestions eventually if you want to keep this charade of yours going ya know.”
Taking a moment the teenager nodded slightly. “I know, I’m just not ready to yet. We’re close to the championship Mad. I can’t let these guys down.”
“It’s broken ribs Dillon, not a broken leg or arm. Two weeks, that’s one event. Everyone misses one event.” Flipping a leg over the motorcycle she sat on the blonde woman leaned forward on the handlebars. “You need to do this.”
Shaking his head annoyed the dark haired teenager ran a hand through his hair and saw his crew chief enter the portable garage. A burly, middle forties aged man he showed evidence of going to the gym but Dillon never could figure out when he made time to do it. The beginnings of grey hair along the sides of his slightly overgrown high and tight hair cut were the only way to tell he was coming along in the age department. Looking at the two having the conversation he raised an eyebrow while pulling a chain release tool out of a toolbox. “Something I should know about? You two are normally all cuddles and unicorn farts.”
“Doc says I’m out for two to three weeks, broke a rib on my crash in practice.” Dillon tossed his empty water bottle into the trash as the crew chief took the news in stride.
“Happens to everyone, listen to the doctor and don’t argue about it we’ve got three more events after Dallas and our lead will hold.”
Making a face that showed she was pleased with his crew chief’s decision Dillon’s girlfriend hopped off the motorcycle as he looked dejectedly at the floor. Grabbing Dillon’s hand, she led him outside to a waiting golf cart which they both sat on as one of his pit members drove him to his waiting vehicle. Before they walked away the pit member handed Dillon a square envelope. “Sponsors dinner. Eight tonight, make sure you wear the tux.”
“Come on Jeff you know I ‘ate these things.” Dillon’s half Irish, half deep southern drawl came out as he complained and the pit member shrugged as he drove away sympathetically.
Taking the invitation from him his girlfriend smiled and walked around to the passenger side of the car. “Looks like you get to take me dress shopping.”
“Wonderful.” Ducking into his Ford Focus RS Dillon threw his folded up jacket into the backseat before starting the car. “Where exactly are we going to look for a dress?”
Turning to face her boyfriend the blonde woman’s demeanor had changed. “You need to stop fighting me so much when it comes to acting like your hurt. At least show me some respect when I diagnose you. I’m putting quite a bit on the line by lying about your injuries, especially considering I falsified X-ray’s to make it look like you had two broken ribs.”
Placing his hand on the shift Dillon nodded once. “I know, but you know I have to act like all the other guys otherwise the cover won’t stick.”
“You’re not like the other guys Dillon—“
“—I know Mad, I know. You don’t have to remind me. Now, where are we shopping for this dress?”
“Not sure yet, let me figure it out. Just drive and I’ll tell ya.” Pulling out her phone the woman began trying to find a store that was close by.
“Dillon Fiolek at your service Mrs. Maddison Lynn.” Dropping the clutch on his car it accelerated forward and out of the parking lot. Just as he began to turn to leave the back exit for the stadium an explosion shook his car. Stepping on the break as Maddison screamed after being startled. Before his girlfriend could ask what happened the young man had left the car, jacket already on heading towards the ball of fire leaping to the sky.
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