Private Start Your Engines

[Slider]

Denon
Checker Town
Hours Before the Checker Town Open
​

The sounds of roaring engines was a constant companion to the people of Checker Town.

As a small district of the enormous city-planet of Denon, Checker Town didn't have much going for it. It was nearly identical to the districts around it, a multi-level marvel of engineering, dirtied by people trying to survive a harsh galaxy. Unlike some sections of the planet, Checker Town's varnish of high society had rubbed off long ago, revealing the crime and greed that made up it's harsh center.

But unlike other districts, this dark, gluttonous energy didn't feed crimelords, slavers, or spice-dealers. Instead, Checker Town's passions were devoted to the racetrack. Long, thin strips of road criss-crossed Checker Town, which were always quiet, save for when racers on swoop bikes tore through them at breakneck speeds. Their vehicles, jury-rigged and modified to break nearly every safety code in the galaxy, shrieked and growled as they jockeyed against each other, sometimes to explosive ends.

Slider loved it all.

Plodding slowly along a lazy back street, a squat, hunched Bereth-Aku took in the sights and sounds. The scents of spicy food and motor grease were heavy on the air, accompanied by the calls of merchants and purrs of swoop mechanics testing their bikes. Black and white checkered graffiti covered every wall and overhang. Slider smiled jollily, craning his neck to drink in the ambiance.

He was a strange sight, even within the Underworld. Turtloid in form, with a large, brown shell pocked by gashes and scrapes. His skin was flecked by green and grey scales, hands ending in stubbed claws, covered by dark fingerless gloves, racing goggles balancing precariously over his mirthful eyes. Despite his odd form, however, he didn't draw much attention in this district of Denon.

The old podracer was a regular in these streets, which was a good thing. Checker Town wasn't particularly friendly to outsiders.

- Iris Arani -

 

[Iris Arani]

There was so much art on the walls. Some layering over others. Either to meld with or completely take over. So.. It had to be alright if she painted, too, right? Taking the graffiti as permission, and not understanding some of the more intricate parts of gang culture, the Padawan unshouldered her pack, pulled out one of the numerous spray-paints within, and got to work.

It wasn't long for it to take shape, but it did take much longer than normal for her to finish. Iris was trying something completely different from the usual meld of colors she drew. Harsh angles, solid shapes, all to branch out. Be different. If she lived her life the same way every day, she'd never be where she was now. So why not represent that in her art? And, as usual, she was covered in paint by the end. Different shades stained parts of her body, where she'd uncaringly wiped away the excess that had started to drip down her fingers. Or where she'd wipe away the sweat on her brow. Or just ran her hand through her hair in thought.

There was little of her that didn't have a smidge of paint, but at least only her fingers were actually dripping with color by the end. She took a step back, staring at it with a soft smile. "There.. What do you think?"

Who she was speaking to? Slider . Whether he'd just shown up, happened to be walking by, or had stopped to watch, she addressed him directly. It was just who she was, after all.

 

[Slider]

A splash of color caught the old turtle's eye.

How odd.

Slider turned away from the hawking vendors and sounds of engines to admire a far wall. A young girl with spray-paint in hand, was composing a symphony of colors and clean lines, seemingly engrossed in her art. Intrigued, the Bereth-Aku plodded towards the bright shapes. As he got closer, he stopped, and scratched his chin with a claw, appraising the work.

How odd indeed.

As Iris Arani asked for Slider's opinion, he took a moment to answer, chewing over his words with a soft smile. "Well, I'm ashamed to admit I don't know much about this kinda thing." He shrugged. "But it looks nice."

"I especially liked how you incorporated the hard lines of the Sleek Rider's territory tags," he continued, not losing any of the mirth from his tone, but adding a bit of caution. "Painting over a gang's markers really adds something to the final product."

Slider turned to look left and right. The street they were on wasn't exactly private. The Sleek Riders probably already knew about a kid covering up their gang signs. Oh dear. Not good.

"'m guessin' you're new to this part of town?"

 

[Iris Arani]

"Looking nice.." Iris hummed at the thought. It was clear she was drifting into her mind by how she stared at the painting, curiously looking it over like it was a puzzle. Just nice? Maybe this style wasn't her thing. It certainly wasn't like her usual sty- Wait. She blinked, looking back to Slider , then to her art. "I wasn't trying to incorporate anything. .. I think." Had she without realizing it? Likely, knowing how easy it was for her to drift.

She frowned, reaching up to stroke her chin. Deep in thought. And adding another layer of paint to her skin.

".. Hmm? Oh. Yeah. I was wandering and found these walls. People really like to paint, huh?"

 

[Slider]

She didn't know.

Oh. Oh no. That wasn't good.

Slider's smile drained slowly from his face as the realization dawned on him. "Yes, people do like to paint here. The swoop gangs here use graffiti to mark their territory, and leave messages for each other. It's a fascinatin' language that I suggest you learn, if you haven't already."

"Coverin' them up could be interpreted as an act of war."

As if on-cue, three swoop bikes puttered around the corner, each carrying a nasty-looking individual toting a blaster pistol. They were staring with fury at the wall, which then transitioned to fury at Iris as they looked down at her, and her paint-stained form.

"Ah, and there are the Sleek Riders." Slider gave a reassuring smile to the young artist. She was just a kid, after all. Slider was sure he could smooth this out with the ruthless street gang. He turned towards them, absent-mindedly stepping in front of Iris to protect her.

- Iris Arani -

 

[Iris Arani]

An act of war?

Iris blinked. Slowly. Then let her gaze drift from Slider to where the swoop bikes would come in. Before they came into sight, before their engines could be heard. She saw them in the colors. Reds and oranges of hate and anger. She'd done it again, hadn't she? The Padawan let out a sigh before she stood, ready to face down whoever was coming. Probably shouldn't of assumed it was free reign to paint.

Then, blasters. She blinked, watching the gangsters as they stepped off their speeders. Blasters in hand. Her lips thinned. "Domxite." She spoke softly, and a BD unit would hop up, onto her back. Folding into itself as the backpack state it normally would be. The, a hatch opened. The droid itself powered down as a lightsaber hilt extended. Just enough to be accessed, if it turned out to be needed.

If it did, Iris wasn't sure. She blinked, turning her gaze to the smaller turtle as he stepped between her and the gangsters. Was he trying to protect her? She exhaled a breath. Right. Peace first. He seemed to know more, so she'd follow his lead for the moment.

 

[Slider]

"Howdy, fellas," the turtle began amiably as the swoop bikes approached, with riders that looked like they wanted to do anything but talk right now. "Lovely day for racin'. Temperature's just right to leave the cockpit open n'..."

The bike in the lead, piloted by a large woman toting a nasty looking heavy blaster pistol, spit on the ground in front of Slider and Iris. She gestured to the girl rudely. "We got a tip that grease-stain's been karking with our tags."

Slider winced. So, these weren't the type for friendly conversation, then. "Yeah, and it turns out she's very sorry." He looked back to Iris, and gave her a look that screamed 'play along', even as he noticed the odd BD droid. "Didn't know it wasn't just free canvas. Easy mistake. Anyone coulda made it."

The gangster narrowed her eyes at the two of them, finding a sharp smile. "Well then, she's gotta learn somehow."

Slider frowned, thinking hard. The swoop bikes had racing colors on them. The Sleek Riders would be participating in the Checker Town Open. The gangs in Checker Town cared about only one thing...

"Well," Slider finally said, discovering some smugness of his own. "That's a true shame, because... ah... Paint here is racing on my team at the Checker Town Open. She's the best Swooper this side of the Scar Worlds. Placed forth in the Sebulba Memorial Invitational two years ago, she did. An artist both on and off the track."

Slider turned once again to Iris, encouragingly. "Ain't that right, Paint?"

Once again, his eyes screamed 'go along with it'.

- Iris Arani -

 

[Iris Arani]

Things were starting to escalate. The colors around showed that much. Anger, some kind of twisted joy. Did they really want to hurt someone that bad? That alone was enough of a reason for her to strike out. Except, Slider kept looking her way and making a face. She tilted her head. Whatever meaning he had with the look went well above what the Padawan could understand. Was he okay?

Wait were they talking about racing?

She zoned back in, tilting her head the other way as she looked back to the gang. The aggression died down, so.. She just nodded. Whatever Slider had said put them at ease, why not go along?

".. Yeah."

 

[Slider]

"That right?" The woman seemed skeptical, but less murderous, so Slider figured that was a good thing.

The turtle man nodded earnestly, gesturing a slow hand back at Iris Arani . "That is right! Truly, you'd be missing out on some great competition if she couldn't race today."

That seemed to win the thugs over. The lead swooper leaned down and glared at Iris. "I suppose we'll have to see, won't we? You're going down, Paint." Then, she glared at Slider. "And you're gonna be turtle soup, old man."

The Bereth-Aku smiled kindly. "Make sure to oil your joysticks. Wouldn't want them to catch at the hairpin."

The woman seemed to mull that particular statement over, looking for any threat in the genuine advice, decided to forget it, and signalled her people to zip away. Slider let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"Well," the old man said, his voice taking on a mischievous edge. "What have we learned?"

 

[Iris Arani]

Iris just stared blankly at the leader. Around the leader. Watching the colors. No hostility. Or at least, nothing dangerous. Then they were leaving. The Padawan raised a hand, offering a faint smile as they left. It was only polite to say bye, right? "Drive safe!"

Then they were gone. She lowered her paint covered hand, her smile fading as she looked over to her art. So the wall wasn't a free place to paint. And she almost started a fight. She sighed, a frown now taking over.

"What have we learned?"

Oh, right. Slider was still there. She blinked, looking back to the shorter turtle man. What had she learned? ".. That I don't know enough to go painting?" She should've already figured it out. Ask before painting in a place she wasn't sure. Iris sighed, leaning back against the dryer part of her painting. "Are they going to hurt you?"

 

[Slider]

Slider grinned at the young woman, taking off his goggles and producing a clean-ish rag from his pocket. He began to wipe at the orange glass of the goggles, trying to smudge away grease stains and dust specks. "Oh, most likely," he said, trying not to make a big deal of his future.

"When you don't show up, and they figure out that Paint is not, in fact, an incredible pilot, they'll make an example of me in the race for lyin'." Slider tried his best not to look concerned. In all honesty, he was a little concerned.

"But don't worry yourself about it. I know what I was sayin'." He shrugged, but his nonchalance didn't match the veiled strain in his face. "Besides, I can take it. Got thick skin." He rapt his shell with his knuckles.

"Find somewhere else to paint now, y'hear?" Slider turned to walk away, already thinking deeply about how not to die at the Checker Town Open in a few hours.

- Iris Arani -

 

[Iris Arani]

"I-" Iris blinked, watching Slider for a moment longer. The way he was talking, moving, had he really just accepted death? To help a stranger? .. Over paint? Even Iris realized how silly this whole thing could seem, but more importantly, what it would cost him. Just to help her. She cleared her throat before moving to stand in front of him. Blocking him from walking away. An oddly serious expression took over the usually whimsical Padawan's features.

"I'm a good pilot. .. Can you teach me how to podrace?"

 

[Slider]

Slider was taken by surprise as the slight graffiti artist interposed herself into his way, adopting a stoic expression. The racer blinked once, processing the situation just a touch too slow, then grew a dubious face.

Showing genuine concern for his well-being? She certainly wasn't from around here.

"You... y'know, these races are real dangerous," Slider said, voice laced with concern. "No holds barred. Once you get out there, the gangs'll do anything to take you out so one of 'em wins. People die."

Slider felt... strange, letting a kid into a high-risk swoop race, even if it was to save his shell.

"Tell ya what." The Bereth-Aku sighed, hands going to his hips. "You say you're a good pilot? I'll take you to a practice track. You show me you won't die out there, and I'll consider it."

"Deal?"

- Iris Arani -

 

[Iris Arani]

People die in the races?

All that did was make Iris more determined to get into the race herself. If it meant stopping someone else from potentially risking their life, why wouldn't she? A serious look took over as she nodded. "Deal. .. Where's the track?"

 

[Slider]

"You're really serious." Slider wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel impressed or dread. He decided to feel impressed.

The turtle pondered a moment, before producing a datapad from his satchel, and pressing a few buttons. "Alright, Paint. Here's some coords to a lot not far from here. Meet me there in fifteen. Not a minute late, yeah?"

- - -
​

Just because it was a practice track didn't mean it was safe, per se. But it was better than being tossed into the race without a hope of survival.

Once upon a time, the area was slotted to be an enormous skyscraper, but the company building it went bankrupt somewhere in the process of construction. That left a wide-open field of duracrete slabs and stacks of metal support beams, unused and untouched until another company picked up the project. Until then, it was the perfect place to learn how to drive.

Slider crouched next to his personal bike, the Wheelhouse, rooting around an open panel with his clawed hands, which were now thoroughly stained by grease. The racer whistled a simple melody to himself as he was engrossed in his work, the clear tune cutting through the din of distant motors.

- Iris Arani -

 

[Iris Arani]

"Alright, Paint. Here's some coords to a lot not far from here. Meet me there in fifteen. Not a minute late, yeah?"

Why not just go with hi- Oh right, paint. She looked down at herself, seeming to realize she was still covered. Right. She should probably get clean. With the destination in mind, she nodded and headed off to get a change of clothing and a shower. Then, went right for the destination. Sure enough, she wasn't a single minute late. Or early. Just on time, near exactly. She might've been counting the seconds just outside.

A bright smile stayed on her lips as she waved to Slider . Whether or not he could see her.

"Okay! I'm here."

 

[Slider]

Slider jumped a little as Iris announced herself.

The Bereth-Aku bobbed his head a little, then swung his long neck around to see the young woman. "Sorry, startled me a little there." He produced an oil-stained rag from his pocket, and cleaned his hands, carefully wiping between his fingers.

He then gestured with the rag to his ride. "This is my monobike. I call it the Wheelhouse, for... obvious reasons. That reason being the big wheel, o'course." It wasn't exactly the prettiest vehicle, perhaps a little old, with a few mismatched parts giving away it's gestalt nature.

"I put 'er together myself, scrapped from the wrecks of the best pods on Malastare's racing circuits. She's not the fastest, or the most intuitive beast, but she's reliable." Then, Slider smiled. "And heaps of fun to pilot."

"You drive the Wheelhouse through this lot and back without a nick in the paint, and you can be my racing partner." Did he expect her to do it? No, he didn't. As far as he knew, 'Paint' was a vandal off the streets, maybe some rich kid looking to rebel from mother and father dearest. But he hoped she could do it.

She certainly had the brazen spirit of a racer.

- Iris Arani -