This is a series of 'one-shots' I've done for the guys, as there seems to be a lack of fun little good reads out there to satiate my current desire for BMFM fiction atm.
Not to say there aren't some good ones out there (all I'm going to say is Karma and Tracker = :D next installment please!) but I just want something that has the guys being, well guys. And the guys wouldn't be the guys without their bikes, because all a mouse needs in the world is his brains, his bros and his bike.
Entry 1/50
Title: Flight
No.: 1
Word count: N/A
Character: Vincent
Pairings: N/A Unless you count Vinnie/His Ride…
That first time in getting airborne had been terrifying and exhilarating and inspiring all at once.
The fear before the take off, not knowing if he was clocking enough speed, or if the cops on the bypass five minutes ago had caught up with him yet. The fear he didn't have was that he'd fall. He'd over shoot it, but he'd never miss a target.
That abyss below him? No problem.
That pile of debris under the landing point? No sweat.
The distance itself? That was merely a challenge.
Point, aim and fire. He'd let rip as fast as he dared, keeping a true line and hitting The Double with little to no effort. Wind tore around him and whipped at his clothes
Two tons and the tarmac underneath him disappears and he's flying. The loss of traction is disorientating at first but then the confusion clears and he's soaring across the canyon and already looking out for his landing.
His bikes foot print remains perfectly preserved on that part of the motorway after he lands. The smell of scorched rubber fills the air as he turns and observes the distance he's just crossed. Something incredible occurs to him. He can do it. He can also do it again, and this time, this time he knows he can do it.
He thrashes back around, lining up and taking flight again, revelling this time, in the feeling of weightlessness, of being free and alive. Of having nothing between him and his bike, just the air around them. No rules, to responsibility, just open sky, open road and endless possibility.
So whenever he sees a partially completed bridge or a canyon, or even just a hole in the road, he'll cross it, to recapture that feeling of flight.
Of freedom.