Hey, guys. Land Father is back with another story. This is an epic tale that I've wanted to write since playing the Subspace Emissary. This will truly be my greatest story, and I shall enjoy every word of it. Just a reminder, any characters are portrayed the way I want them too. This story is not based on the Subspace Emissary, so any characters' roles in that story don't apply here. This takes place in the World of Trophies, and I highly suggest looking at a map of it so as to keep track of where everything is, as it helped me write this. Enjoy.


A Long-Expected Race

The World of Trophies, a large continent that was created long ago, is the home to all beings. A land as diverse as the inhabitants that it shelters, it was once the target for the greatest evil that it had ever known. The evil spread throughout the land, claiming many victims that dared stand in its way. Its influence was wide and its reach was far, as it had nearly succeeded in taking over the entire land. However, out of the shadows came two brave warriors who stood up to this evil. They traveled across the land, eliminating the influence that the evil had spread. Eventually, the two warriors brought the conflict to their hideout, where a great battle was fought against their leader. The warriors succeeded in defeating the leader, putting an end to the evil that terrorized the land. With the land free, they departed and headed their separate ways, visiting each other from time to time. However, this all happened a century ago...

During the warriors' campaign to eliminate the evil, a popular tourist spot, known as the Zoo, was a target of the evil's influence. It was destroyed, turning it into a forsaken wasteland. For many subsequent years, it was known only as the Ruined Zoo. However, two decades before the current time, a group of people gathered at the isolated site and made plans to convert it into a metropolis. As construction commenced, more and more people showed up to help build the city. It took a few years, but their efforts paid off, as the city was grand and spectacular. When the time came to name this great city, the citizens all agreed to call it, "Port Town".

Port Town thrived in population and culture, as it attracted the attention of many. The people, however, wanted the city to stand out more, to have its own signature feature that would increase tourism. They decided to build a giant race track so as to have high speed races upon it. The track was spectacular and reached high into the sky. The track was then named, "Port Town Aero Dive". Port Town now had something to be proud of, and the city further flourished as people flooded in to see these intense, high speed races. Many names were carved into stone as the greatest racers of all time, and the fans kept on wanting more.

January 26, the current day, was the day of the championship race. Thirty racers, who climbed the ranks through many preliminary races, would be competing to see who could become the champion. For these races, the track was usually souped up to make it more menacing. Turns were sharper, speed was increased, and the track became slightly thinner to allow less room for cars, resulting in more action.

It was 10:00 in the morning, meaning there was still two hours left until the race. A man was sitting in the local diner, sitting at a booth and sipping a cup of coffee. The rays of sunlight shining through the window made his purple suit gleam. His knee-high yellow boots complimented the suit nicely. A large metal plate rested on his right shoulder for who-knows-why. Perhaps the most mysterious thing about him, though, was his identity. His red helmet obscured his face, preventing anyone from finding out the man lying underneath. He has a name that he goes by, but it is widely disputed in the populace over whether or not it is his real name. Despite the dispute, he refuses to disclose which side is correct, as he seems to take enjoyment from the situation.

A young waiter made his way over to the man's table. "So, sir, was everything to your liking?" he asked, sounding as if he wanted some personal praise from the man.

"Everything was fine," said the man, a smile arriving on his face. "I'll take the check."

"Very good, sir," replied the waiter. He walked away from the table into the back room. He soon came back bearing the check in his hands. He placed the check on the man's table. "Have a good day, sir."

The man stood up, placed his right hand on his hip, and gave a salute with his left hand. "Please, call me Captain Falcon."

"Of course, Captain Falcon," said the waiter, giving a slight bow. "Have a nice day." He quickly walked away and disappeared in the back room.

Captain Falcon placed his money, plus tip, on the table and departed from the diner. The sunlight greeted the half of his face that wasn't covered, as that was the only part of his body that wasn't covered in clothing. Some people wondered how he could wear such heavy clothing in this weather, but he always shrugged it off. Falcon walked down the street, trying to figure out how he could waste two hours until the big race. As he was walking, a man across the street shouted at him, "Hey, Captain Falcon! Show me ya moves!" Falcon, recognizing his catchphrase, gave a wave to the man before continuing on his way.

Captain Falcon arrived, ten minutes later, at his apartment room. He decided he would take a nap, even though he did just wake up a couple of hours ago. He went to his bedroom and laid down, fully clothed, on his bed, drifting to sleep.

It was now 11:40, meaning there was twenty minutes remaining until the start of the championship race. Falcon was in the racer's locker room, preparing himself along with the other racers.

"Hey, Falcon, you'd better watch yourself," said one racer.

"I hope you'll watch me as well," said Falcon, smiling, "as I'm gonna be in front of you the whole time."

"Oh, those are fighting words," said the racer.

"Actually, those are racing words," said Falcon, walking away from the racer. He was quite pleased with himself on how he handled that.

"I'm gonna get that guy," said the racer to himself.

It was almost noon, the time had almost come. The stadium seats were full, and the fans were screaming their heads off, wanting the race to start. Nothing could be heard but the uproar that was emanating from these fans. The racetrack was towering over the stadium, with many complicated twists, turns, loops, and jumps. It may have been menacing, but the thirty racers were ready to take it on, the anticipation welling through them about which one of them will become the champion. Giant monitors surrounded the stadium, with hidden cameras placed around the track to capture all the action. After all, the track went so high that the audience won't be able to see everything simply by looking at it.

The loudspeakers came on throughout the stadium. The announcer's voice started booming. "Alright, everyone, it's time for the 12th Annual F-Zero Grand Prix Championship Race!" The audience's cheers grew even louder. "Thirty spectacular racers ascended the ranks to compete on this day. The dangerous track of Port Town Aero Dive has been transformed into an even more deadly track. The racers will have to have their reflexes at a maximum to even think about claiming the championship title." The audience was at the edge of their seats at this point. "And now, here they are, the F-Zero racers!"

The audience boomed as the racers walked out onto the track, their cars already waiting for them at the starting line. The starting line was easily visible by the audience, but the track quickly made turns, drops, and lifts that would easily lose them. Captain Falcon approached his trusty Blue Falcon, numbered 07. He opened the hatch of the vehicle and hopped inside. He always felt the most comfortable when inside his vehicle. He knew it like the back of his hand, giving him a big advantage, as some other racers didn't know everything about their car. He revved up the engine, feeling the car start to rumble around him. He placed his hands on the steering wheel, ready to go the moment they were allowed.

"Alright racers, start your engines!" shouted the announcer. Falcon was already ahead of him. Every other racer revved up their car, roaring to go. The audience was anxious as each car was at the starting line, slightly bobbing up and down due to the engine. "Ready, set, GO!"

The racers shot forward at super high speed. They went so fast that the audience could no longer see them after a second, now having to resort to the giant monitors surrounding the stadium. Falcon was not in the lead, but from what he could tell, he was probably in fourth or fifth place, as there were a few cars ahead of him. Behind him were the two dozen or so trailing cars. One car rammed him from behind, and Falcon almost crashed into a wall, but this was to be expected, and his fast reflexes allowed him to maneuver away from the wall in time. The cars made many descending jumps, going up and down, and Falcon couldn't help but feel a little queasy, despite the fact that he had done this many times. He was able to quickly recover when the jumps ended, and continued his way down the track.

Falcon was starting to gain on the few cars in front of him. He came up upon the fourth place driver and rammed the side of his purple car. It didn't take him out, but it stalled him just long enough for Falcon to pass him, taking fourth place. The cars in front of him were duking it out, as they were so close to each other that they kept alternating between first, second, and third. Falcon, taking advantage of their situation, sped up behind the car that was currently in third, and rammed him from behind. The driver, taken by surprise, drifted off to the side where he tapped the edge of the track, leaving Falcon to claim third. The second place driver was not having it, and he rammed right into Falcon's side, making him almost shadow the previous racer's movements. Falcon, however, didn't smack into the wall, and pulled himself together to continue forward, but not before another racer could pass him, putting him back in fourth. Falcon, feeling angry, sped forward, determined to catch up.

In the rear, the two dozen racers were countlessly climbing ahead of each other. However, one racer decided to pull a crazy maneuver: he pulled in front of the leader of the two dozen racers and slowed down a bit, making that racer crash right into him. They both started spinning out, ramming into other cars, thereby making them spin out, causing a chain reaction. About a dozen cars spun out and slammed into the rail, most likely eliminating them, as their cars were badly damaged.

Captain Falcon, still in fourth, realized that he was getting further and further away from the three cars ahead of him. Wondering what was going on, he checked his damage meter, and he was shocked to see that there had been some damage to his boosters. It must have been when that driver rammed him from behind. Though his car currently wasn't slow, it also wasn't fast enough to catch up. A car from behind him passed him, putting him in fifth, and Falcon knew that there was nothing he could do. Knowing the track like the back of his hand, he knew the finish line was coming up in a few seconds. Sadly accepting the fact that he had not won, he crossed the finish line, coming in fifth place.

It was a few minutes later, as the rest of the cars had to cross the finish line, and then all the racers had to safely get out of their cars and get off the track. About less than half of the racers didn't finish the race. All the racers were now in the middle of the stadium, the audience roaring with excitement. This year's championship race had been one of the best races of all time. A Formula One podium stood at the dead center of the stadium, currently empty, waiting for the top three racers to occupy it. The announcer came bounding to the center of the stadium, standing next to the podium. The audience fell silent.

"Well, what a spectacular race that was!" he shouted into his microphone, the speakers around the stadium booming with his voice. "Who agrees with me?!" The audience roared, and then quieted down again. "Alright, now it's time to announce the first, second, and third place winners!" The audience roared again, then quieted down. "In third place, we have Pico!" The audience screamed as the green alien-like being took his place on the third place podium. He was then awarded a bronze trophy. "And, in second place, we have Samurai Goroh!" The audience boomed even louder as the bulky, angry looking man took his place on the second place podium. He was awarded with a silver trophy. "And now, in first place," the audience was on the edge of their seats, "the champion of the 12th Annual F-Zero Grand Prix, Dr. Stewart!!" The audience roared its loudest as the man clad in a yellow jumpsuit took his place on the first place podium. He was given a gold trophy and a bag full of prize money. As the ceremony continued on, Falcon wanted to get out of there more and more.

Falcon was now back at the local diner, sitting at a booth and drinking some more coffee. He was hoping that he was still asleep, and that the coffee would wake him up, finding out that it was still ten in the morning and the race hadn't yet been held. He just couldn't accept that he had gotten fifth place. His thoughts were interrupted, however, when the same young waiter came up to his table.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Falcon?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," Falcon replied, clearly with no optimism in his voice.

"Don't worry about it," said the waiter. "I thought you did a great job."

"Thanks, kiddo, but that won't change anything," said Falcon, slumping a little.

"Well, at least you stuck to your phrase during the race," said the waiter. He then imitated Falcon's signature pose and said, "You showed me ya moves."

Falcon, amused, gave a little chuckle at the waiter's antics. "I like you, kid. Here's a little something just for you." He slipped the waiter a five dollar bill. "It's yours."

The waiter was taken aback by the generous offer. "T-thank you, Mr. Falcon, sir." He quickly made his way to wait on another table.

Falcon continued to rest at the booth and drink his coffee. Just then, the front door slammed open, and everyone averted their gaze towards it. Falcon looked at it, but didn't see anyone there. His eyes then happened to look downward, and he saw a tiny figure, about two feet tall, standing there at the entrance. His body was blue and round, with two short arms protruding from the sides of it. On his hands were a pair of white gloves. He had only feet, no legs, that were covered in purple armored boots. The black, metallic armor on his shoulders gleamed in the sunlight. The cape that he was wearing was streaming as the wind blew. A sheathe lay at the right side of his waist, presumably holding a sword. The most striking feature about him, though, was his round, silver mask obscuring his face. The only thing the mask wasn't covering were his piercing yellow eyes, eyes that seemed as if they could read someone's mind. As Falcon looked at this figure, he was reminded of himself in that his identity was completely hidden. The figure turned his gaze to Falcon, and stared at him as if trying to confirm something. He made his way over to his booth, and with a deep voice, he said,

"Are you Captain Falcon?"

Falcon just looked at him, wondering whether he should respond or not. Quite frankly, he was surprised that he asked that, as everyone in the city knew who he was. The figure's gaze was starting to creep him out, so he said, "Yes, I am."

The figure's tone of voice suddenly changed from serious to alarmed with this confirmation, and he quickly said, "Hurry, you must come with me! You're in grave danger!"

"Huh?" said Falcon.


What is this danger that this figure talks about? All that and more will be revealed in time. By the way, even though this takes place in the World of Trophies, no one is actually a trophy. They are all real beings. I only call it the World of Trophies because there is no other name for it. Well, I'm out for now.