After some very helpful reviews from The-Stupidest-Author-Ever and LittleDarling13, I have written a sequel. If you haven't read Same Old Story, you should go away now and do so, but you don't NEED to if you really can't be bothered. But you should. Y'know. I have in the interim made one or two tweaks to Ronnie and the things she can do, so please will someone point out to me if she turns into too much of a Mary-Sue? T'would be most helpful. Anyway, that's enough from me. Enjoy this chapter!
A solitary ball of tumbleweed tripped and turned its way across the baked desert of Handler Corners. It skipped past cacti, the occasional lizard, and twice the black and white car belonging to Sherriff Johnson, who each time frowned at it and scribbled it down in his notebook under the heading "Suspicious Behaviour." It bounced and rolled past the huge plastic pizza that towered into the sky, marking this desert's particular oasis; Zeke's Diner; to any travellers. It continued its journey out into the open sands, slowing and picking up speed according to the change in the wind. Sometimes there was no wind at all, and so the tumbleweed simply sat there, waiting in the cool night air for another gust to pick it up and sweep it on its way.
A roaring sound could be heard, many miles away but travelling far and fast in the still air. The tumbleweed skipped a foot along the road with a stray breath, and began to leap and dance erratically, flying this way and that as two fast-moving figures caused turbulence in the currents. They zipped past the tumbleweed, sending it soaring high into the sky in their wake and bringing it down again with a bump and a bounce. It followed them a while, until the wind picked up again and led it back on its original course across the desert.
The cause of the tumbleweed's sudden flight could be put down to two motorcycles, the riders of which were racing each other in friendly competition across the salt flats of Handler Corners. They veered and circled around one another, trying to pull ahead and gain the upper hand as they executed ever more daring moves and stunts to best the other at the game they both played. This went on for a few miles after the tumbleweed had left them behind, until the one up front waved a magenta-gloved hand and slowed down; they were nearing their destination: Zeke's Diner. Reluctantly, the black-clad companion let off the gas too, and seconds later the pair slid to an abrupt stop in the parking lot.
The lot was otherwise empty besides a road-worn Mitsubishi pickup truck parked at an angle between the two disabled spaces right by the door, and both riders eyed it with distain as they dismounted. They were from the City; such poor parking was against their senses of justice.
"I thought you said Zeke's truck was blue," Lucinda Demourney, the black rider, frowned at her friend.
"I did," Ronnie Wheeler confirmed. "That isn't it."
"What, another guest at this hour?" Lucinda mimicked an English accent, for no apparent reason. "Oh, for God's sake," she loudly continued, "will you stop that?"
Ronnie glared at her and carried on massaging her aching shoulder. "You know, the doctors said I shouldn't be riding for another week."
"That's what they always say. Come on, you only dislocated it. It's not like it's the end of the world."
"But the Paramedics at the course were looking at me like they'd just witnessed a Biblical miracle; I could - and should, apparently - have done a lot worse."
Lucinda rolled her eyes. "Quit your whining, seriously. It's not like it was my fault."
"No, Luce, it wasn't your fault at all. It was entirely mine for letting you talk me into stunt cycling in the first place." Ronnie pushed open the door to the Diner as she continued to glare at her friend, not even remotely expecting to collide with someone coming the other way as she did so. The man lost his footing and stumbled into the doorframe, looking up only briefly from the handheld computer he was studying to right himself and apologise, quietly but sincerely, in a heavy Eastern European accent before carrying on. Ronnie smiled by way of forgiveness, but he probably didn't even see her. She watched him for a moment from the doorway, smile slowly fading into a studious confusion; something about him was familiar. Many things, actually. He was similar to her in age, with thin black hair falling over narrow brown eyes. He had a very prominent Eastern European accent, and he was almost ridiculously tall and skinny. There was only one other person around these parts who shared that description. Could it be..?
No, it couldn't. The co-incidence would be mind-blowing. Shaking her head slightly she smiled to herself, before turning around again and retreating into the comforting warmth of the Diner.
"Who was that?" Lucinda asked from behind her.
"No idea," Ronnie clarified. She waved a hello to Grace as they both slid onto bar stools. "The owner of our scandalously parked pickup, probably."
"Really? Only 'cause you looked for a second like you knew him from somewhere."
"Yeah, well. He looks like someone I know, that's all. Or at least I thought he did."
"Right."
"Well, well," Grace interrupted them before they could take off again. "Back so soon, Ronnie?"
"Oh, Grace meet Luce, Luce meet Grace."
"Nice to meet you. What can I get you guys?"
"Two of the usual," Ronnie instructed before Lucinda could respond. "Give her a menu and we'll be here until midnight."
"It already is midnight," Grace teased over her shoulder as she nudged open the door to the back room. Ronnie's jaw dropped.
"She's kidding."
"Nope," Lucinda showed her the face of her watch. "Zero-oh-three precisely."
"Jeez, we're later than I thought we'd be."
"So you're telling me that magical bike of yours doesn't tell time too?"
"Of course it does; I was just a little distracted on the way down here."
"You mean worried about losing."
"Luce, my bike could run rings around yours without me even riding it. I wanted to take it easy with that wheel problem."
"Aww, does Ronnie not think she can repair a faulty wheel join by herself?" Lucinda crooned. Ronnie was tempted to hit her.
"Not that one, no. I can't even begin to understand the science behind..."
"Dude, a wheel join's a wheel join, regardless of where in the... What was it again?"
"Multiverse."
"Right. Regardless of wherever in the multiverse you come from. A wrench would do just fine."
"Okay then, when my front wheel does fall off, you can fix it for me."
"You're so funny."
"I know. Now shut up and eat your pie."
"Pie huh?"
Ronnie rolled her eyes at Grace as she slid two plates of Zeke's speciality pie down on the counter in front of them, complete with tall soda cups. Grace sniggered; she'd heard the whole conversation.
"You two headed for Vert's?" she asked as she moved around the Diner flipping off lights and wiping down tables.
"Yeah," Lucinda explained, "We were in Kansas City for one of the JSCC shows, and our plan was to head straight back home..."
"But my front wheel has been making a racket ever since we left the city boundary," Ronnie continued, mostly to prevent her friend from mentioning her dislocated shoulder. "So I figured I could use the pit-stop. And it's been what, seven months?"
"Eight," Grace corrected. "Not that anyone's counting."
Ronnie whistled through her teeth and more pie. "Wow. That long, huh? Feels like two at most."
Grace shrugged. "I'd love to tell you what's changed around here, but you know Handler Corners."
Ronnie laughed. "Frozen in time."
It was well after one AM when they finally left, after Grace essentially kicked them out because she had to get home and sleep before opening time the following morning. The two friends were laughing as they went out the door, feeling sleepy themselves now with food inside them. Ronnie was glad that her brother's garage was only half a mile down the road, otherwise she might have been tempted to ask Grace if they could bunk with her for the night.
Lucinda didn't try and resume their race, knowing full well that she had no idea where they were going from the Diner and if she tried to overtake Ronnie, her friend would simply leave her behind and make her ride around the desert for a few hours before coming to get her. Many people had often wondered if the two of them were actually friends, or if they simply tolerated each other's company for practical reasons. Sometimes Lucinda even wondered that herself, but she knew that there was nothing she could do that Ronnie couldn't herself. If Ronnie didn't want her around, she would have made it plainly clear by now.
The brilliant white lights in the scarlet-painted underground access tunnel had been dimmed for the night, which was certainly a relief to the riders' eyes, having already been accustomed to the dark despite the short length of their ride. Ronnie squinted in preparation for the Hub itself to be as brightly lit as it always was, but was surprised to find it darker than the tunnels, lit by a cool blue glow that seemed not to emanate from any particular place but engulf the whole main room just enough to see by. She remembered that this was how it had been when she had first seen it, and assumed that this was its after-hours ambience. That meant that the Battle Force Five would all be asleep; good. She wasn't awake enough to handle a full-on greeting from them all. She rolled to a gentle stop alongside the Sabre, indicating for Lucinda to do the same. A smile came to Ronnie's lips as she took in the other Battle Force Five vehicles; being in the Hub again reminded her that the last adventure they had shared wasn't just a figment of her imagination.
The sole occupant of the spacious Hub was Sage, and Ronnie felt Lucinda stare from behind her at the Sentient as she rounded a quantum computer bank to greet them.
"Ronnie," she said, a smile in her voice. "I was not expecting you."
"I wasn't really expecting to stop by either," Ronnie confessed. Pleasantries were halted as Sage glanced over Ronnie's shoulder, and her friendly expression faltered on her face.
"Oh, Sage this is my old friend Lucinda Demourney," Ronnie was quick to introduce. "Luce, meet Sage."
"It is certainly a pleasure," Sage offered, sounding as if the truth was somewhat different. Ronnie glanced behind her; Lucinda was gaping, mouth wide open, at Sage's blue translucent form, doing nothing whatsoever to hide the fact that she was fascinated by the truth of Ronnie's old stories. Ronnie elbowed her hard in the side, bringing her back into the real world.
"Oh, Christ, sorry. Hi. I'm not actually that vacant. It's just... Wow."
"I thought you said you believed me," Ronnie pretended to pout.
"Well yeah, I did, but... The reality is always so much more... Y'know..."
"Tell me about it."
"I trust you do not need reminding of the secrecy under which the Battle Force Five operates," Sage hinted, a cautionary note creeping into her clear voice.
"Sage, Luce has been my best friend for four years. She wouldn't breathe a word, and besides, who's going to believe her anyway?"
"I swear this ain't leaving my mouth," Lucinda promised. This seemed to satisfy Sage, who smiled and visibly relaxed.
"Very well. I presume you have noticed that the others have long since retired to bed."
"Yeah, makes sense," Ronnie agreed.
"And if it's not too much of a fuss, I'd like to join them," Lucinda hinted, none too subtly.
"You are such a complainer," Ronnie chided, before scooping her rucksack out of the Hornet's saddle compartment. "I'm gonna show this one where the spare rooms are. Could you do me a favour? The Hornet's front wheel join's been making a racket ever since we left Kansas City, and I didn't have the guts to try and investigate it on the road."
"I will perform a diagnostic," Sage promised, pulling up the computer display without any further fanfare.
"Thanks, Sage," Ronnie smiled. She took a few moments to watch the Hornet swing up into the Hub's ceiling, fascinated by the Sentient technology, then led the still-waiting Lucinda through the rec area and down the corridor towards the bedrooms.
"You have so gotta give me a tour of this place in the morning," she yawned, already retreating backwards into the comfort of her room. Ronnie waved absently in response, far too tired to even consider formulating a verbal response.
Please leave me a review and let me know your opinions of chapter one!