Now, here's something I've left on the shelf for too long. I started this one about three or four years ago, got pretty far, and then... well... lost interest in it. But, I guess Krista's repost of her legendary fic kinda bit me with the bug as well, and so I went back and re-worked this old fic. Some may remember it, a lot probably won't. Just read with an open mind.
A big shout out goes to Arthur Edwards, for keeping up with all the notes we had made on this one so long ago.
I hope you like it!
Ranma 1/2 used without permission
Jet Moto is property of 989 Sports
Certain story elements are the creation of Tom Clancy.
Ranma 1/2
Jet Moto
--------------------------------
Here I go
It's my shot
Feet fail me not
This may be the only opportunity that I got
Eminem - Lose Yourself - 8 Mile soundtrack
------------------------------
2003
The world at large had drastically changed in the first years of the twenty-first century, the Pacific Rim being the hardest hit of all. It all began in China, where the failing regime had attempted a daring attack to seize land and the newly-discovered oil and gold resources in neighboring Russia.
It had almost worked.
The Russian forces had been extremely weak, and the Chinese had thought the Americans too soft to intervene. Unfortunately for them, they had been wrong. The communist regime had learned the hard way about screwing with the Ryan Administration, resulting in the release of the still-legendary Hyperwar tactic.
Desperate, and with nothing left to lose, the regime unleashed the most horrid of all weapons against their enemies.
The attacks, much to the relief of the world, failed and nuclear winter had been averted. For Red China, however, it had been the final nail in the coffin.
2007
Japan suffered an earthquake of a magnitude previously thought impossible. Their cities - built with such phenomena in mind - still barely survived and Asia's economic hub went off-line. The repercussions were felt around the globe and, even with the assistance of America and the now-rich Russia, recovery was slow.
2015
Traditional sports have fallen by the wayside, baseball and the like being the first to go. People wanted their sports fast, hard, and brutal. They wanted something where only your skill and your ruthlessness awarded victory, and where failure was rewarded with a quick death.
They got Jet Moto.
A sport merely ten years old, Jet Moto has in that time become the single most popular sporting event on the globe with races run from Japan to America and countless places inbetween. It is a race on hoverbikes, run at breakneck speeds, through treacherous courses.
Most, however, no longer consider Jet Moto a race, but a two hundred KPH battle to the finish.
Only a few make it to the higher leagues, where the riches and glory are showered upon the winner.
This is the story of racers trying to make their way, and the ties of emotion, pain, and intrigue that bind them together.
This is the story of the world that may yet be.
This is the story of Jet Moto.
-----------------------------------------------
Akane Tendo paced about the cramped stall, her face set and muscles tense. Her boots clacked on the cool cement floor in a steady cadence, the snug fire-proof material of her suit clinging to her sweaty skin. She knew the course like the back of her hand, and knew her competition just as well. This race, like any other, was a matter of life and death for her team, her family.
Akane looked down at the team symbol on her gloves, a purple dragon winding around an upward-pointing fist. The team was all her family had. It was her life. The only racer for Team Ryu-Ken, each run meant only one shot at bringing home the money needed to keep their heads above water. She shook her head, waving the bob of black hair atop her head and took a deep breath.
"Akane, will you please stop pacing like that? You're making me nervous."
"Sorry, sis," Akane replied as she looked at her eldest sister. The grease-stained coveralls did nothing to flatter Kasumi's figure. The older woman's mane of auburn hair was tied in a tight bun which rested below the pale blue cap she wore, her arms deep in the guts of the moto Akane would ride to victory in just a half-hour.
At twenty-one, Kasumi Tendo pulled triple duty as the team mechanic, nurse, and cook. With so much to do, Akane found it amazing that she didn't simply lose her mind from stress. Though Kasumi would never admit it, she was the rock they all clung to.
"There," Kasumi said as a low hum came from the machine and it rose from the ground. "The field generator's running normally again."
"Thanks, sis," Akane said with a smile. "You're the best."
"It was a faulty relay," Kasumi explained, doffing her insulated gloves. "We don't have a spare, so I had to run the field generator through the auxilliary relays from the thrusters..."
"Uh-huh," Akane replied absently as she activated the control panel which rested just below the handlebars and closed the access panel to the inner workings of the moto. Akane never understood the mechanics behind a moto's engines and wiring...
"And thrust is down four percent."
That, at least, Akane understood perfectly.
"Kasumi! You know I need all I can get out there!"
"I'm sorry, Akane, but this is all I can do! You can't race if your moto won't even stay off the ground."
"Great." Akane straddled the large machine, and began to run through her system checks. She preferred her Kawasaki LT-40, even though such a heavy moto was meant for someone larger. The extra armor and higher top-end speed often granted her the edge she needed against the smaller machines on the track. Her model was rather stable for something that didn't even touch the ground while active, and was much harder to shove around. While the skill of the rider was vastly important, the choice of machine was also a critical factor. For her size, she handled the large moto extremely well.
"All systems show green," Akane said after a few seconds. "We're good to go. Thanks, Kasumi."
"Don't mention it," the other woman said with a smile. "Happy to help."
Akane turned her attention back to the small panel when a booming voice sent a shudder up her spine.
"Wherefore Akane Tendo?!"
"Crap," she muttered as he barged into the moto stall. "Get lost, Kuno."
"Ah, the beauteous one is already astride her mount!" he boomed theatrically, arms waving for emphasis. "Surely she cannot wait to race against me to the finish line!"
"Didn't I just say get lost?" Akane snapped. It wasn't as if Tatewaki Kuno was bad looking. He was tall for an Asian, topping off at around two meters in height. The electric blue racing suit hugged each and every athletic muscle as if it had been poured on his body. Thick brown hair fell over eyes of the same shade and framed his strong jaw. The perfect image of a bishonen manga star, except for the fact that he was a delusional blowhard with a hang-up about her.
The fact that he was obscenely wealthy didn't help, either.
"Again you deny your attraction to me," Kuno said, oblivious to Akane's irritated glare. "So demure, how long must we play this game..."
"ATTENTION! ALL RACERS REPORT TO THE STARTING LINE! ALL RACERS, PLEASE REPORT TO THE STARTING LINE!"
"Hmph. Now we race, dear Akane. To the victor go the..."
"Kuno-san," Kasumi said, "the race is starting."
"Ah, yes. Until my victory, Akane Tendo."
Akane watched him leave and tried to keep her mounting anger in check.
"The *nerve* of that jerk!"
"Don't let it bother you," Kasumi said as she handed over Akane's helmet. "Just go out and do your best today."
"Yeah," Akane replied as she slid the headgear on.
-----------------------------------------------------
The sun glared overhead, beating down on Akane's shoulders as she eased her moto into position. She was in the middle of the pack, which suited her fine. The slower acceleration of her moto would have made a top pole position moot and the more racers she could knock off the track, the better. Less competition was better competition as far as she was concerned.
"Comm check," she said into her helmet microphone. The visor showed a Heads Up Display, displaying her own position relative to the lead and the track layout in the left side of the image while the right side showed her important systems.
"Check," Kasumi said from the moto stall. Her image appeared in the lower right hand corner of Akane's view. "Loud and clear."
"Everything's normal on my end."
"Same here. Good luck, Akane."
"Thanks, sis."
The cheering fans and the thundering diatribe of the race announcer were filtered out by Akane's trained mind. Every ounce of her being was focused on the race, on her oppostion and her goal. Leading the pack was Tatewaki Kuno, astride a brand new Yamaha GT-500. A speedster, like he preferred. Outstanding acceleration, decent top end speed, and great manuverability. He would be tough to beat.
The other racers were faceless to her, their motos just obstacles. Kuno was the only racer she had to worry about. Akane had no idea why he kept himself to the minor leagues of Jet Moto, and preferred to think that it wasn't just because of his infatuation with her.
Wow, that one's a classic, she thought as her rear view image sighted a man directly behind her. The moto was old, an early model, but looked to be in great shape. A Honda Thunder Rod, one almost never saw those on the track anymore. The rider himself wore a red and black racing suit, and appeared to be in good condition like his ride.
Akane deactivated her rear view image and concentrated on what was ahead.
"THREE!"
"TWO!"
"ONE!"
"GO!"
Akane opened the throttle and felt the g-forces slam into her as the moto launched ahead. She immediately bent forward to reduce wind resistance as the ten racers shot down the straight stretch. The proximity sensor chimed in her ear a half-second before two racers tried to force her into a spin, only to to be pushed aside by her own skillful maneuvering. She didn't watch as the two racers slammed into two others. The position indicator showed four racers out already as her moto came up to full speed.
At two hundred and thirty KPH she hit the first turn of the oval track, low and on the inside. Two more racers who had not been in such position fell behind her and Akane smiled. She was in third place already, and the first lap was only half over. She hoped there were some major league scouts in the crowds. Getting sponsored would put her family back in the black.
What the hell? she thought as her rearview image activated in the bottom center of her HUD. The red-and-black racer was directly behind her, racing casually as if this were a Sunday drive.
"Bastard," she muttered. He stayed in her slipstream as she roared down the other side of the track, matching her move for move. As long as he stayed directly behind her, he would have power to spare. "Kasumi?"
"Yes?" her sister replied, voice only this time.
"Any idea who the guy behind me is?"
"No idea. He's staying in your slipstream pretty well... Wow, that's an old moto!"
"I know that!"
"Can you shake him?"
"Hang on," Akane said as she screamed into the second turn and edged out another racer. It was just her and Kuno now. If she could just get ahead of him...
"Akane," Kasumi's voice said, "He's got a top-of-the-line moto. Be careful."
"So what? I've beat him before!"
"So," Kuno's voice said over the broadband connection, "it is just you and I, then?"
"More like just me, Kuno! Get out of my way!"
"If you can defeat me, you shall date with me!"
"Shove it!"
Akane jerked upward just as she triggered a turbo canister, one of three her model could safely hold. The increased g-forces threatened to peel the skin from her body as she came up to Kuno's rear at an angle, a maneuver he expertly dodged. She desperately yanked her moto away from the outer wall of the track, hoping she wouldn't lose too much distance to Kuno.
Two laps, and Kuno's gotten a good lead, Akane groused. Just damnit *great*!
"Akane," Kasumi's voice said, "that man is still in your slipstream."
"Forget him! I have bigger problems right now!"
---------------------------------------
Nabiki watched from the owner's booth, which her father still had enough clout to reserve a spot in every race. She ignored the buffet table - though the cheese balls and wine beat the living hell out of the overdone hot dogs and beer in the stands below - and focused instead on the race.
"Akane's skill grows every day," Soun Tendo said from her left, wearing his usual dark brown business suit with his long hair down to his shoulders and a thick moustache on his upper lip. Nabiki glanced over at him, still strong aside from the cane he had to rely on to walk these days - an old moto injury - and nodded.
"Yeah, but that guy's riding her ass like a pro." The red and black racer kept following in Akane's slipstream, fending off the lower ranked racers with easy grace.
"He is good," Soun said before downing a cheese ball. "Can he beat Akane?"
"Looks like he's just biding his time."
"Well, he'll show well at any rate. Good thing I hired him, eh?"
"I guess," Nabiki replied without inflection. "I still say you should have ran it by me first. I *am* the team's financial administrator, after all."
"Still angry about that?"
"Who said I was angry?" she answered calmly - a sure sign that she was indeed still pissed off - and returned her attention to her sister below. "That new pilot doesn't look like he wants to win."
"Just wait," Soun said after another cheese ball. "Even if he doesn't win, then at least Akane will have someone else to share the burden."
"Uh-huh. And him being your best friend's son has nothing to do with it?"
"That was a low shot, Nabiki."
"Hey, looks like he's making his move."
-------------------------------------------------------
"High on the outside!"
"Got it!"
Akane screamed into the turn and angled her moto upward to cut off the racer who had tried to boost past her. The impact shook her to the bone as the low-slung front end of the other moto collided with her armored rear. The rear view image activated, showing his banged-up moto limping behind. The pilot would be okay, but from what she had seen his moto wouldn't run again anytime soon...
"WHAT THE...?" A wash of displaced air battered her left side as a red-and-black blur streaked past. The twin thrusters glowed like tiny supernovas as they pushed him farther and farther ahead.
"The proximity sensors didn't even go off!" she heard Kasumi exclaim. "That moto isn't regulation specs!"
"No kidding!" Akane triggered her second boost and roared after the unknown racer, who was tangling with Kuno several lengths ahead. The *nerve* of that jerk, riding in her slipstream most of the race, letting *her* do all the work, only to cheat her at the end!
"GET BACK HERE!"
The dueling motos drew closer at an alarming rate. Akane snarled at the strange pilot, already calculating how to use her last boost for maximum effect and missing that four percent her thrusters now lacked as the final turn came up. She knew Kuno's tactics, and smiled when she saw him try to push Mister Slack-ass into the interior barrier of the track. Just a few meters more...
The red-and-black pilot unleashed a brutal backhand that slammed into Kuno's chest. Even seeing from behind, Akane couldn't help but wince. However, it bought her the opportunity she needed.
"Cheaters never win, jerk," she muttered as her last boost canister opened, dumping compressed NO2 into the thrusters and sending her back into full-on overdrive. If she timed it right, she would bump him right off the track...
"WHAT!" Akane's heart nearly stopped when he jerked directly in front of Kuno and triggered another boost not even a full meter away from the front of his moto. She saw Kuno raise his arms and duck his head as the boost dented the sleek front partition of his moto.
"I don't believe it!" she heard Kasumi exclaim as the unknown pilot screamed like a bat out of hell toward the finish line. Akane sailed across the finish line a full two seconds behind him, killing her throttle and gliding toward the doors to the moto stalls.
That... was amazing! Akane thought as she slowly maneuvered to the opening into the lower levels of the stadium. She had never, not once, seen a move like that.
She was almost impressed. The fact that he had rode in her wake and stole the win - the money HER family needed - more than outweighed his final tactic.
The concrete corridors swallowed her and her moto as she guided the humming machine to Team Ryu-Ken's rented stall.
"Cheating jerk," she mumbled.
--------------------------------------
"Damn..." It was all Nabiki could manage at the new pilot's tactics. Daring came to mind, followed immediately afterward by reckless, with incredibly stupid riding its coattails, but that one expletive was all that made it past her lips.
"Amazing."
"Dad, he used Kuno's moto as a springboard!"
"Wasn't it just outstanding?" Soun asked in the dramatic tone Nabiki knew too well. She was losing him to his own imagination again.
"Yeah, and if he tries another fool stunt like that... Daddy, really, I think you might have made a bad call buying his contract."
"Ah... Saotome, you trained him well..."
"Oh, brother," Nabiki groaned as the flow of joyous tears began to pour from Soun's eyes. There were times when she wanted to strangle the old fart. What if he did something like that off of Akane's moto? Extra racer - for cheap - or not, nothing was worth risking her sister's life.
First chance, Nabiki thought, I'm going to have a long talk with that Ranma guy.
---------------------------------------------
So this is Nerima, Ranma Saotome thought as he rode through the mostly empty street. The sun had almost set between the massive spires of the mostly-rebuilt Tokyo, bringing the night closer by the second.
The structures looked to have seen better days, from what he could tell of them as they blurred past his peripheral vision. It wasn't a slum, not yet, but looked to be on its way. Garish neon signs left trails as he passed, people standing beneath peddling things the law would surely frown upon but not stop. A red-light district in the making.
There's a moto team out here? he thought. Aw, hell, I've bunked in worse places. Since becoming a free agent - a thing which had pissed his father off to no end - this Team Ryu-Ken had been the only one to bite. Beggars couldn't be choosers, so Ranma had accepted their offer. Even without having met the owner of the team, or any of the other members, anything beat sleeping on the street or in whichever roach motel he could afford. His meager savings had been exhausted almost a month hence.
Who knows? he thought as he raced through an intersection whose light had just barely turned red. Maybe this team's not half bad.
The cherry red Kawasaki Ninja - one of his few possessions in the world - screamed between his legs as he opened the throttle full-blast. It was a shame that motos weren't street legal, so far as he was concerned. Nothing beat the rush of racing, the feel of victory. Even after Ranko's death, he still couldn't leave it behind.
Ranma shook his head clear of those thoughts. Her death had been an accident but it still haunted him. He had been the mechanic while she had run the race. Had the moto race been legal...
"Damnit," he swore, "I ain't gonna think about that now." There were plenty of times when the last moments of his sister's life invaded his dreams, anyway.
Fifteen minutes out here and still not a cop in sight, he thought. Big surprise.
The koban was overworked and underpaid. Who knew how many were as crooked as the thugs on the streets? Ranma had met a few in his day...
"First left," he muttered as he guided the stoplight shotgun he rode onto the side street, narrowly avoiding a drunk in shabby clothes. His moto should already be there, and a room set up. The clothes he had - while few - were stowed in the small pack he wore on his back. He had been in such a hurry, in fact, that his red and black racing outfit still adorned his body.
It hadn't been a bad race, but not much of a challenge, either. Boosting off that guy's moto had allowed him to finish the race in first, despite being risky as hell. Besides, the money had gone to the team which had hired him. Officially, this test run had been his first race for Ryu-Ken. He just didn't know who the other racer for that team was.
Ranma chuckled as he cut a right turn. Wouldn't it be amazing if that girl he had followed most of the race had been that pilot? He slowed the motorcycle as the entrance to the Team Ryu-Ken training center came into view. Ranma slid his legs down to the pavement to help stop the machine just outside the gates and flashed his new team ID card at the sensor in the center of the left door.
"Looks like they gave up on cleaning the grafitti," he said as he beheld the gang signs that adorned the stone surface. It wouldn't have mattered even if they kept up the fight. Ranma knew that when gangs claimed a territory, they never let it go easily. This place had to be a low-traffic area for them. He didn't see a single gang-banger in sight as he waited to the security scanner to clear him for entrance. He reached to the small of his back, tracing the outline of the small retractable baton he kept ready. His hand-to-hand skills were more than up to snuff, mostly learned from defending himself and Ranko from the less savory types of street people. If nothing else, Ranma Saotome knew how to survive.
--------------------------------------------
Akane sat on the sofa situated in the center of the living room, glaring at the muted television as if it could apologize for the race. A three hundred thousand yen purse, snatched away by that... that... CHEATER!
"Still angry?" Soun asked as he walked over to the couch. His cane thumped the hardwood floor with each step, his left leg moving stiffly.
"Yeah," Akane replied, looking up to see her father... smiling? "Um, Dad, what are you so happy about?"
"Daughter, I know that you've been pouring your heart into Jet Moto, and to the team," Soun began in a serious tone. "And that being our only moto pilot is such a strain on you."
Akane wouldn't say as much, even to herself, but Soun was right. Being the only one to race for the team was always stressful, with doubts and fears of what would happen if she were to crash out, get injured to the point where she could no longer race. Or even if the worst happened. What would her family do then?
"So," Soun continued, "I've decided to sign another pilot on to the team."
"You did?" Akane asked, stunned. "Dad, can we even afford that?"
"His price wasn't overly high, only five percent of the total season winnings. I threw in room and board as well."
"Nabiki didn't negotiate the contract, did she?"
"No. I did."
"You did say 'he', right? As in a guy?"
"I didn't mean a girl, if that's what you're asking," he chuckled. Akane shook her head slowly, unsure how to react. A new pilot would take some of the worry off of her shoulders, but to have him living here as well? She wasn't certain that was such a good idea.
"Well, he'd better not get any funny ideas!" Akane had been forced to deal with her own fair share of men who thought no meant yes.
"Hey, Dad," Nabiki said as she entered the living room. "He's here."
"Ah! Good! Where's Kasumi?"
"Letting him in." Akane didn't miss the glance Nabiki shot her, and a lump of dread immediately settled in her stomach.
----------------------------------------------------
The house, Ranma noticed on passing the security gates, was done in traditional Japanese style. That in itself was strange. He couldn't recall the last time he had seen one that resembled traditional archetecture. Two stories, sliding doors that were probably reinforced plastic, and the whole thing proofed against quakes from 10 on the richter scale and up. The covered walk stretched across the front lawn from the gates to the main door, and was laid with round stones set into the turf. To his left were a few small trees, the grass beneath and all around neatly mown.
They have to have a gym at least, he thought as he approached the door, helmet in hand. His mop of black hair fell over stormy blue eyes and boyishly handsome face, with a braided pigtail curved upward behind. They must get all their moto training done on the track. That was fine by him.
Before he could knock, the front door slid open to reveal a woman in a pleated skirt and blouse standing inside. Her hair was tied back in a bushy tail which fell across her left shoulder. Her brown eyes were the kindest he had ever seen, with a gentle smile offsetting them just so.
"Good evening," she said, "May I help you?"
"Uh... Hi," Ranma said. Even without knowing her name, he felt as if she were the universal standard for big sisters and mother figures. "I'm Ranma Saotome, your new pilot."
"I... beg your pardon?"
"Let him in, Kasumi!" a male voice shouted from past her.
"This way, Mister Ranma," Kasumi said, moving aside as he kicked off his boots.
"Just Ranma'll do."
The inside of the house was the same as any other, hardwood floors and nondescript wallpaper that screamed coziness. Ranma breathed deep, half hoping to smell cookies baking in the kitchen. No such luck.
He followed Kasumi without another word, after refusing her offer of tea. He just wanted to meet the team and hit the sack. He had an early day tomorrow...
Ranma stopped at the entrance to the living room. Before him stood a tall, long-haired man in a three-piece suit and a cane, who positively beamed at him. That had to be Mister Tendo. Beside him was a woman whose chestnut hair was cut in a stylish bob which framed a set face and eyes that could be confused for laser sights. The business skirt she wore showed off her long legs and slender hips, while the cut of the jacket she wore only hinted at her cleavage.
The third, a girl with a mop of coal black hair, stared at his suit in wide-eyed shock. He almost introduced himself when her eyes narrowed with rage.
"YOU!" she shouted, fists balled at her sides.
"What?" Ranma saw the suit she wore, a purple and black moto suit, and immediately placed her.
Well, what do ya know? he thought before trying to introduce himself.
"You CHEATER!"
"Huh? Who're you calling a cheater?" Ranma already didn't like this girl.
"YOU, you CHEATER!" she screamed, livid. "You let ME do all the work!"
"And I shouldn'tve bothered! You were so slow, I thought I'd die of boredom!"
Despite his quick reflexes, the last thing Ranma Saotome saw that night was a fist like a pile driver headed for his face.
"Akane," Kasumi said, "was that really necessary?"
--------------------------------------------------------------
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