“Here you go!” Itsy handed Crucion a jacket. He had been recovering by drinking some water and sitting on a crate in the staging area. The jacket had a wrecking ball logo on it as well as their competition number.
“Wow, they take this seriously,” Crucion admired the craftsmanship of the jacket before slipping it on. “Wait, but where’s yours? I thought you were competing!” Several eyes from the other drivers stared intently when this question was asked, their surprised gaze having not left Itsy since the supposedly-barred woman entered the room.
“Well, technically, you are!” There were a few sighs of relief around the room when she answered. “I bet the tailor sure was happy when they realized they didn’t have to make a jacket in my size. But, I’ll be there too, so dontcha worry.”
“Remember how I said that I couldn’t drive a motorized vehicle? Well, you’ll be the one driving, but there still won’t be an engine. That’s cus I’m gon’ be the engine!” Itsy shoved a thumb in her direction with a grin.
“Wuh… huh? How’s that going to work?” Crucion was more confused than before.
“Well, you’re gonna be the driver, and I’ll be under the hood making it go,” she re-explained it as simply as possible.
“Uhhh, what, me driving? I don’t even have my license!” For some reason he was more hung up on that part more than anything.
“Ain’t no problem,” Itsy was confident. “All you gotta do is steer. Don’t even gotta push the pedals or nothing. Just aim us towards the rest of the trucks and leave the rest to me,” she thumped her chest with pride.
“Of course you would think of something so stupid!” A voice called from across the room as another driver walked over to Itsy. “Couldn’t take your punishment like a good little girl so now you make a mockery of the entire sport!” Clearly he was someone who took this a bit too seriously.
“Go ahead and say that again,” Itsy sauntered over to him until she was just inches away—towering over him.
“Now now, Itsy, you know violence will only get you in more trouble,” the driver’s voice started to tremble a bit as they immediately recoiled.
“Don’t you worry,” Itsy assured him with a stern voice. “I’m going to beat you well within the rules today. This victory is finally going to Itsy Humdiddy… and my partner here,” she returned to Crucion’s side and placed her hand on his shoulder. From Crucion’s perspective though, it was like she was trying to squash him into the ground, and he had to resist with all his might to not crumple while he shouldered pain.
◆◆◆
“So what exactly is our objective here?” Crucion asked while he fiddled with the driver’s seat, trying to raise it and move it forward so that he could actually see out of the window.
“This is a wreckathon!” Itsy explained over the headsets they were wearing. Each driver was allowed a copilot to help out, take over if needed, and perform repairs. So their partnership wasn’t anything special, but having one of them actively under the hood was absurdly unheard of. “Point of it is to wreck everything! Last truck standing. We go until only one monster truck can still move! And since I’m controlling this thing, ain’t no way we’re losing!”
“Ladies and gentleman, start your engines!” The announcer hyped up the crowd and drivers over the speaker. All around the arena, monster trucks purred to life. Some started to rev, trying to intimidate the rest of the competition.
“Rururura! Ruhh ruhh ruhruhrura!” Crucion heard Itsy mimicking engine noises over the headset while she shook the truck a little, doing his best not to laugh. While funny, he found the behavior oddly cute and endearing.
A horn blared and the trucks started speeding. They had all been placed in a circle around the arena, facing towards the middle. Apparently, there was a custom called the Opening Smash where all the monster trucks would race to the middle at full speed, trying to hit a champagne bottle that was positioned in the middle. This guaranteed carnage right out the gate.
Itsy didn’t hold back from it either. As soon as the horn blared, their monster truck lurched forward. It was unsettling and jerky at first as she figured out the footing and motion. But then she got the hang of it and started building speed more and more until they were going faster than anyone else.
Their truck smashed through the bottle in the middle, coating the windshield in champagne, so Crucion had to turn on the wipers. But they didn’t stop there, Itsy kept charging, smashing through the gap created by two other trucks closing in on the middle. She never lost momentum, running at full speed until they crashed into the wall on the other end.
“Did we hit the bottle? Think I got some champagne in muh mouth!” Crucion was too rattled to answer her, shaken by the adrenaline rush from what he’d just witnessed. Itsy backed the truck away from the wall a few paces but then rammed at it again at full speed. Once it crunched against the wall, she backed up and tried again.
“The heck you doin’, Crucion?!” Itsy yelled into her headset.
“Oh right, right, sorry!” He’d entirely forgotten about his only directive due to the chaos of it all. He was just supposed to steer. Itsy would keep moving the truck forward without stopping until they hit someone. If she couldn’t move forward anymore, she would back up and give Crucion a chance for them to change course before they resumed their charge.
Crucion pulled a hard right on the steering wheel and they whirled back into the wreckathon. At first, everyone ignored Itsy’s seemingly out of control monster truck, but she stopped giving them a choice. Monster trucks normally weren’t built for speed, but with Itsy using her own legs, it actually gave them an advantage.
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Per her orders, Crucion guided Itsy into ramming each monster truck once—wanting to hit each with a full impact ram at the height of her power before she started getting tired. The first few only resulted in minor damage since Crucion was still getting used to steering, but by the end, they’d flipped one on its head and completely disabled three more with a single blow.
“Hey, there still that blue and red truck drivin up ‘round there?” Itsy inquired while she took a breather after their latest ram.
“Uhh, yeah, there is. Looks like they’re doing pretty well too. Barely a scratch on them,” Crucion relayed what little he could see.
“That’s the Draz who bad mouthed us earlier. We’re gon’ get ‘em! Forget errbody else. Chase 'em down!” With new orders, Crucion began his relentless pursuit, but it didn’t go well at first. “We ain’t hit nothing in a while. What’s going on?”
“Sorry, they’re really wily! They keep hiding behind a ramp to dodge us.”
“Well then go up the damned ramp!” Itsy roared with determination.
“Seriously?! Is that fine with you underneath?!”
“Yup, we got this! Let’s give ‘em something they’ve never seen before, partner! Next time he’s about to drive behind the ramp, aim for it dead on.”
Crucion did as she asked and they raced towards the ramp faster than they’d ever gone. They went soaring into the air, higher than any Monster Truck ever before them, even cusping the rim of the stadium.
Itsy, slid out from underneath the truck so she could get their bearings. “Gotchu, you som’zjik!” She spotted her prey from above. Instead of retreating back into her hiding spot, Itsy grabbed the front bumper of her monster truck. Once it reached the apex of its flight, she threw her arms down as hard as she could, rocketing the monster truck towards the ground.
She let go, so it flew past her while she held in the air for a moment. The truck careened straight down. The red and blue truck had no idea where they’d gone and couldn’t prepare for what was coming. Her truck smashed into the hood of his, crumpling into the engine, but that wasn't the end.
Itsy landed on the rear of her truck a moment later, pushing it down even further before the momentum was gone. The entire front-end of the red and blue truck ripped off and the back half went flying up in an arc until it crashed into one of the walls, never to move again.
Itsy got her own truck and Crucion sitting upright before she went and grabbed the remains of her competitor's engine. She hoisted it above her head and pumped it like a trophy. The crowd went wild, like she’d just slain a mighty beast in the arena.
A rules check was called by the refs, but they couldn’t find anything to fault Itsy with. Per the guidelines, the only thing allowed to hit a truck was another truck, and that’s all that had happened.
There was still the rest of the match, but there wasn't much of one after that spectacle. A few of the other drivers surrendered on the spot—rather taking the loss than sustaining such damage to their vehicles. The rest, Itsy hunted down one by one. She had clearly slowed by the end, but she never wavered, not until the oil of all her enemies ran black around the arena.
◆◆◆
“And the winner is, Crucion Wirks!” Itsy shed a tear as she stood behind him while he accepted the award on the podium. Since he was the one who registered, he was the one who got the prize. Itsy wasn’t upset because it wasn’t her, but so emotional since she’d finally, rightfully won. Still, she wouldn’t lie that she wouldn’t mind being the one to hold the trophy.
Maybe he understood her better than she thought, because Crucion suddenly turned around and jumped off the podium. He landed on her shoulders, wrapping his arms around her neck while he passed off the trophy to her. She hoisted it up high, and then grabbed Crucion with the other arm and hoisted him too. It was certainly the liveliest award presentation in several years at the monster truck rally.
“Thank you… Crucion,” Itsy expressed her gratitude once they were out in the parking lot—having pushed her monster truck back outside. “Really, I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Oh, it was n—”
“And I never thanked you properly either for that time before,” Itsy cut him off. “Back when I was a baby, I mean. Heard you was the one who took care of me, and that you did a right fine job. So thank you. It’s been a while since I’ve really felt like I could rely on others, so it felt real good when I knew someone was looking out for me like that. Thank you, for letting me rely on you.”
Before he could say anything else, Crucion was swept up in her arms, pulled into the tightest hug of his life. He was a bit scared for a moment, afraid he was going to be crushed. But he relaxed the next moment, finding her touch oddly soft and tender—a warm embrace that he hadn’t experienced since the passing of his parents, so he just lived in the moment with no complaints.
“Oh, uhhh, sorry,” Itsy apologized once she set him down. “Now let’s get you back home, maybe stop at the corral buffet on the way. Boy am I starvin’!”
“Wait, wait, wait! No, no, no!” Crucion’s voice was suddenly firm and direct. “I am not flying in that death trap again until you fix the stabilizers!”
“Oh, sure, of course. That ain’t no thing,” Itsy popped into the cab to grab a wrench and then slid under the truck. There was a few seconds of a grinding sound, and then she popped back out. “All fixed! Let’s get a move on.”
“What?! That was all it took?! Then why didn’t you fix it before?!” he was in utter disbelief.
“I ‘unno. Didn’t think of it before,” she tried to justify. “Maybe all that smashing joggled something loose in my noggin, and I remembered how to fix it!”
Crucion was completely stunned, unable to come up with anything to say in response, so he climbed into the monster truck and bucked his seatbelt in silence.
◆◆◆
Mallea slowly approached the kitchen in her shed, tiptoeing with a blade ready to be drawn in a single breath. Who had the gall to break in and use her private kitchen? A fool, apparently.
“Oh, Caspian, it’s you,” she dropped her guard instantly when she spotted Crucion clumsily mixing ingredients in a giant bowl. “The zjik are you doing…?” He was the only one she would allow herself to speak unprofessional language in front of, feeling it her right as his mentor.
“Ohh, uhh, hello Miss Mallea!” Crucion immediately spilled some of his concoction, having jumped when she called out to him. “It’s about something one of the members said, uhh, Itsy mentioned off-hand. She said the food that’s regularly served is difficult to eat, so I thought I’d try preparing some for her myself—more to her needs.”
Mallea looked over to the counter. At least the prep was done well. The meat and veggies were cut immaculately, though far too big to fit in the mouths of any normal human. For a behemoth like Itsy, though, they’d be just right. “You said that we should always try to improve the lives of our charges, and the idea just came to mind,” he gave his justification. “Sorry for not asking you first, and sorry for making a mess. I promise I’ll clean it up immediately afterwards.”
“It’s fine,” Mallea found his behavior somewhat endearing. It reminded her of her younger self: so eager to improve and be useful to others. She rolled up her sleeves. “Now scoot over, and I’ll give you some tips.”