Speed Racer Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction / Crossover Fan Fiction ❯ Dangerous Curves ❯ Rx for Danger! ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: Speed Racerand Angelare the property of their respective copyright holders, not me.

Chapter 3: Rx for Danger!

by Raven Dhancer

When I woke from Sparky's little love tap, I was lying in a pleasant room, in a bed with clean sheets. Dresser by the window, door looked like it lead to the bathroom. I crossed to a window, and pulled aside the lace curtains dreading what I might see. A pleasant suburban street. I was in the master bedroom of a suburban home. I screamed. Somebody burst in from the hall.

I whirled, knowing it was hopeless, ready to go down fighting, but it was Rex. I calmed down a little.

"Rex! Or do I call you Racer X?”, I was babbling again. “I see I'm probably in your very nice house in a suburb somewhere outside of Tulsa and not in a black pit of hell, right? Sorry about the screaming, I make that mistake a lot." Initiative totally lost. I thought about a shower, but in the end just started to get dressed.

Rex wasn't leaving. He had a few questions. He spat out his first in a disgusted tone.

"Is there anybody apart from my thick skulled family who don't know who I am?"

"Hey, sorry" I replied, "but I was a fan way back when I was still at W&H. And, well, the files there are pretty complete. I won more than a few bets with that info."

Next question was a classic, "Are you sure you should be moving around?"

"I'm fine" I lied, "this sort of thing happens all the time. So maybe you can tell me how I ended up here and why Sparky cracked my head in the first place?"

"I waited until they parked your dolly and then I stole it and its contents. You asked why Sparky attacked you? I'm not sure. Probably he was acting on orders from Spritle ..."

"So-" I started, but he cut me off.

"Since you're not going to rest," he said, "you should get dressed and come down and meet the family."

Just then I started to hear a familiar voice singing in the kitchen. I groaned.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

From the Rex Racer's memoirs "Rx: Prescription for Danger!":

I left Lindsey to clean up and headed downstairs. As I got to the kitchen, Lorne was teaching my eldest kid to sing "Supercalifragilistic". They sang it through together and then Lorne made him sing it to me by himself. He kept laughing during the chorus. He got through it in the end but then Lindsey wandered in and the kid wanted to sing it for him too. I loved that kid, anybody would. I didn't care if I wasn't his father. He was my son and I'd die for him.

Lindsey sat politely while my son sang, but didn't look at him; through the whole song he watched Lorne. I looked at Lorne too.

I had met him as he'd been searching pit row to find Lindsey. He wasn't hard to recognize, and I hadn't acted too surprised. I guess he guessed I had heard about him.

"I'm looking for a guy named Pops." he had said, "He's a chief mechanic around here?"

No wonder he had taken so long to find Lindsey. You should understand that to go down to pit row and look for a guy named Pops, it's like going to Texas and asking for Slim.

"He has a son named Speed?" Lorne added. Well, OK that narrows it down some.

I don't know why I had trusted him. He looked hard and lean, but somehow, you could tell, deep down, he was a total pussy. "You're not looking for Pops or Speed" I told him, "you're looking for Lindsey. And he's in need of a bit of help."

Son #1 finished up and we all applauded like Shriners in Vegas. He blushed and ran off.

Lorne looked at Lindsey. "Later," he said, forstalling something Lindsey wanted to say. "Turn on the TV. You're missing some excitement."

I flipped on the set. It was showing a news conference with a german driver, Vorsicht Suppe. He was answering some reporter in german, which another man was trying to translate. Lorne was still talking to Lindsey.

"While you were taking your nap, this guy was running up a bill and skipping out on the tab." Lorne said. "He lost it at the end of the Cherokee and took his car airborne. No car, no race, but now he's announced he's driving for a new team. You'll love the name. The 'Hell Wheels Team'. How camp is that?"

"Is he OK to drive?" Lindsey asked.

Lorne flipped him a folder. "No. Here's his medical."

"I saw him getting wheeled out" Lorne continued. "He looked pretty bad, and that file..."

"According to this file" Lindsey said, "he's dead."

"Anders als den industriellen Sektor Polens blieb landwirtschaftlicher Sektor groß in den privaten Händen während der Dekaden der kommunistischen Richtlinie. Die meisten ehemaligen Zustandbauernhöfen werden jetzt zu den Landwirtpächtern gemietet." Suppe was saying from the TV. Lindsey said something about fish oil and blood workups. I wasn't really listening. I was going to kick these two out soonest and go down to the hospital. What the hell was going on!?

"I know a techo club that sounds promising." Lorne said.

"Yeah, keep an eye on Suppe" Lindsey said.

"You think he'll be there too?" asked Lorne. "You want to come?"

"Can't" said Lindsey. "I'm going to pick up a few things from the office and then I'm going to have a little chat with my new friend Sparky."

--- extract ends. (His kid was the kind anybody would offer a banana to.)

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Rex gave me a ride back to the track and my pickup. His eldest seemed like a good kid but homelier than a mud fence. Must've been woozier than I thought, the truck sort of shimmied as I got in. I drove to the office like an old biddy driving to church on Sunday had busted me over the head with her fryin' pan. My head was still pounding and the bed cover flapping like a Saturday night drunk, three sheets to the wind, didn't help; battened it down as soon as I got to the office.

Upstairs, I sprawled on what had once been a sofa until the aspirin and “heal quick” spell I got off a local Creek shaman lessened the throb a mite. Then I took a look in the weapons safe. I'm a firm believer in “two eyes for an eye and maybe a foot, too”. A small mace I picked up at a ren faire (don't ask, the case hasn't come to trial, yet) caught my eye. Just the thing. It was a real nice piece with a good balance and those flanges on the head leave some real nice dents.

I found the address Rex had given me, a defunct service station near the track that the Racers were renting for the duration, without any problems. I scoped out the place from my truck. I didn't see the old man or Speed but Sparky had the Mach 5 up a foot or so on the hydraulic jack and was doing something mechanic-like on the bottom of it. Perfect.

“Hey, hand me my 2 inch King Dick will ya'?” he called from under the car.

I guess he thought I was someone else. “Sure thing,” I said as I started lowering the car. He thought real quick and tried to get out but I had him pinned at the hips. Sparky gave a look that said he thought I was bluffing.

I remarked, "Did you know I have an evil hand?" as I moved it toward the lever that would leave Ol' Sparky a raspberry schmear across a concrete bagel.

TBC

AN: If you are Speed Racer challenged, there's a link in my profile for basic character info.