Three small lizard people have led Seela and I into a large, round tent, where they’re dressing us for death. They give us both thick, blue vests to wear, and matching pants.
“This’ll protect your skin from burns,” one of them says.
“Not so much from chainsaw blades though!” says another one.
The three of them cackle.
“Good thing we won’t need protection, right Hana?” Seela nudges me with her shoulder. The lizard women have tied her hair into a big, bushy tail using a red, paisley-patterned bandana, calling her smooth, dark complexion to attention. We haven’t been here long, but I think her skin has already gotten darker.
“Weren’t you the one who asked if I was sure we should come here?” I ask her, “Why are you so enthusiastic now?”
“Like I said before,” she says, “you’re Captain. I’m first mate. You call the shots. I see them through. More questions?”
Yeah, I guess she did say that.
A tortoise walks into the tent.
“Are our little challengers ready?” he asks.
Nope.
“Yes,” says the first one of the three lizards, “we were just about to bring them out!”
Shit.
“Wonderful! I’ll take ‘em from here,” the tortoise clasps his hands together.
Seela and I follow him out.
He takes us past several more tents, and to a large open area. The ground is light brown, sandy dirt. Around this open area is a fence, made of spiney branches. In the middle of the field is another spiney fence. On this side that we entered is a large, metal… device. It’s one of the wheeled devices they were working on earlier. There’s a wheel in the front, with handles, and then it connects to a seat, which sits on top of a big something that I can’t see because it’s covered with brown leather, and then connects to a second wheel in the back. Next to it is a small car, which kind of looks like a little metal bowl on four wheels. Coming our way from the other side, where there is another, similar pair of wheeled devices, is the big black liquid guy. He has no face, or any features. He doesn’t even walk, so much as he just glides across the ground. Becoming short and wide, he reaches under the leather covering under the seat. A second tortoise comes over with one of the long, many-bladed devices. It is at least twice my height, but very thin. The liquid man opens up a little hatch on the bottom of the device’s handle. It almost looks like he’s pouring his body into it. Weird.
“What’s he doing?” I ask the first tortoise, who escorted us here.
“Feuling your bike and chain lance,” says the tortoise, as if I’m supposed to just know what that means or how he’s doing it.
The liquid man comes over, and I think he looks Seela and I over, but he doesn’t have a face, so it just looks like a slow nod.
“Good luck, strangers,” says a voice coming from the general area of his head.
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And he glides off, out of the field.
“Now then,” the tortoise says, “who drives and who wields?”
“I’ll drive!” says Seela, “How do I drive?”
The tortoise points at the larger, two-wheeled device.
“Sit on the seat, grip the handlebars. Turning the right handlebar makes you go fast. Squeezing the left handlebar makes you stop. Take this helmet.”
A third tortoise comes up and puts a big metal helmet on Seela’s head, and approaches me with another helmet. Seela hops onto the seat.
The first tortoise looks at me, and says, “that puts you in the cart. You sit there, try to knock the other cart guy out with your chain lance, and try not to get knocked out of the cart or killed.”
The third tortoise puts the helmet on my head, which has soft leather on the inside, so it’s comfortable on my head. It also has an attached pair of goggles, which I put on. The second tortoise comes and hands me the long, many-bladed device.
“Pull that string on the bottom to rev it up. Keep revving it. Got it?”
“Not really, if I’m being completely honest here,” I tell him. Rev? What is that even supposed to mean?
He just laughs.
“You’ll figure it out,” he winks, “you have some audacity in you. Now get out there!”
He slaps a big, meaty hand on my back, shoving me towards the cart.
It’s at this moment that I finally notice the cheering crowd. There are way more people out here right now than there were before. Like, at least tenfold. Where did they even come from?
Seela is raising her wings to them, and everytime she makes a gesture, their cheering intensifies. The cheering quiets for a second, while I get into my cart. They’re expecting something from me.
I stand up, with my feet on the edges of the cart, hold up the giant chain lance above my head in one hand, and with the other hand, I yank the string, causing the blades to spin along the length with a loud roar. The audience roars in return.
Nailed it.
Across the field, the similar devices have been mounted by two pigs, who have stood up on them and are shaking their tails at us while the audience laughs, egging them on. I look over at Seela, who has chosen to respond by making large gestures with her wings towards her crotch. Following her lead, I take my lance and hold it out in front of my hips, revving it again.
“Come suck it piggies!” I bellow out.
The crowd goes wild.
The cat from earlier, not the boss lady, but the other one, who wears the leather hat, comes onto the field, about halfway between us.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he cries out, earning the audience’s attention, “how are we doing?”
The audience yells out in response. The pig guys sit down, and so does Seela, and so I do as well.
“I’m sorry, did you guys hear something?” he looks at us on the field, then back at the audience, “I said, how are we all doing today!?”
The audience yells out louder, and the hatted cat man seems satisfied.
“Now before we begin today’s event, would you like to meet our combatants!?” the cat in the hat raises his paws up to his ears, cupping behind them
The audience cheers in response.
“On the north side, we have our beloved home team. They’re fast, they’re sturdy, they'd eat us out of house and home if we’d let them!”
The audience laughs.
“They are the brothers, Brack and Shruck!”
Brack and Shruck drive a lap around the ring. I don’t know which of them is which, just that one is focused on driving, while the other is dancing and riling up the crowd. When they pass us, the dancing one in the cart smacks his ass at us, rousing laughter.
“And on the south side, our infamous visitors! They’re cute, but full of spunk! Do you think they have what it takes?”
The audience cheers.
“Everyone give a big welcome to Hana and Seela!”
Seela looks at me, and although the crowd is loud, I can see her lips say the words, “you ready?”
I nod.
With a loud roar of the thingy, we zoom off.
I can’t stand up to dance like Brack (or Shruck?) did, because we’re going way too fast. But Seela gets the hang of driving, and we get to a more consistent pace just in time for me to make a fist with one hand and shake it near my face, pressing my tongue in my cheek, while holding the chain lance in front of my hips again, waving it around.
The cheering dies down as we get back to our starting positions. Yeah, I’m feeling better about this whole thing. I’m so glad Pom taught me all those lewd gestures, they really made me feel more confident. She’ll love hearing about this.
“Alright, so for anyone new to the sport, I’m lookin’ at you, stardust,” the announcer says, as the audience laughs.
I have no idea why he just called us stardust.
“The rules are simple. On the countdown from three, the driver drives forward, while the wielders try to knock each other out of the carts. This will be a two out of three, so the first to strike the other down twice wins. If you die, you’re disqualified. Now who’s ready to see some jousting!”
The audience goes wild again.
“Three…”
Seela revs her bike.
“...Two…”
The audience counts down with him.
“...One!”
Seela takes off, and so does the other driver. The other wielder stares me down from behind his snout, as we rev our lances in time, getting closer and closer. Our roaring lances narrowly miss each other, as we’re aiming for the others’ chest.
His lance cut a hole in my vest and threatened to pierce my skin, but before that could happen, the sound of metal on metal, as my lance makes contact with his chest, knocking him out of his cart and firmly on the dirt.