I'm back, baby!
Since we have a long weekend ahead, I've had some time to get this next chapter out!
Planes belongs to Disney, Dusti and my story belongs to me!
Dusti had to admit that New York was very pretty at night as she flew over the harbour and past the Statue of Liberty. But now was not the time for sightseeing, she had a starting point to get to.
As she flew closer to the city, an unfamiliar voice crackled on her radio.
"Break, break. Air racer number 7, air racer number 7. Do you read? Kennedy approach, over."
"...I'm Dusti Crophopper?" She wasn't sure what to say. "I'm looking for JFK airport."
The radio voice spoke again, "Crophopper 7, you're supposed to be on the Carnice Visual." He then proceeded to rattle off a list of directions, only a handful that Dusti actually understood.
"Uh, run that by me again?" The girl requested.
"Turn further left, heading 1-9-5. Maintain 1000-" But halfway through, she dismissed him. "Never mind, I found it!"
"Do you see her?" The tower controller asked his buddy, busy scanning the radar for her plane's signal.
"Well, radar does, but I don't see diddly." He whipped out his own pair of binoculars in an attempt to find her and the small orange cropduster.
One short and slightly rocky landing later and the teenager found herself in the midst of some of the best of the best racers in the world. She may have looked like she was handling herself fine on the outside, but inside, she was absolutely fangirling out. If she didn't have as much willpower as she did, she'd probably have made a fool out of herself by now.
As she walked through the entrance to the pits, a crew having taken away Strut to her tent/temporary hangar, Roper greeted her, still holding his clipboard as usual. Seeing her, he gave her a smirk.
"Well, looky who's here." He checked her name off his list of present racers.
"Hey, uh-"
"Miss your home town? I don't. Just about blocked that memory out of my mind. But you're bringing it back with that..." He took a big sniff and recoiled again in distain, covering his nose with his clipboard. "Oh man, that nasty Vita-mina-stink-a-bunch."
"Gee, thanks." Dusti sent an annoyed glare his way. She may have been fooled by her own brain, but she was 100% certain that she got all that stink off both her and Strut before they came to New York.
Either that, or he was just playing around with her.
She hoped it was the second.
"Your tent's the last one on the left. Go!" Dusti rolled her eyes at him before walking away from him towards her tent, but one of her favourite racers, in person, caught her attention.
"Wow! Bulldog?" The middle-aged man sitting there and drinking a cup of Earl Grey had dark brown hair streaked with grey and matching eyes without the grey, wearing a flight suit that resembled the Union Jack uncannily. Behind him was his plane, a blue de Havilland DH.88 Comet with a white underside, red wings and landing gear, and the Union Jack also printed on the hood.
"From the European Cup? The Big Dog! Hey, I saw you do this unbelievable high-G vertical turn. How did you do that?" Dusti knew that he obviously wasn't going to indulge his secrets to her, but...you lose a lot of common sense when you're in front of a star.
"Well, let me tell you. In fact," he took a sip of his tea. "Why don't I tell you all of my racing secrets?" That tone he spoke in was a false one, just dripping with sarcasm.
Dusti frowned at this. Did he really have to be that rude about it?
"Look," He continued. "I don't know how things work from the backwater from which you hail, but this is a competition. Every racer for himself!"
"Fine, if you don't want my company, you can just say so." She grumbled and stormed off, but if she'd bothered to look back, she would have seen Bulldog suddenly give a double take and whip out a picture of someone. Someone that was once very close to the older racer.
Dusti couldn't believe her luck. First Ripslinger, now Bulldog. Were all racers going to be like this?
Her question was soon answered as she accidentally tripped over a loose cable and went tumbling down into a pile of cans, their labels unrecognizable to the girl.
"Oh my. Are you OK?" A hand grabbed her and helped her to her feet. Luckily, nothing was hurt. If worse, a little bruised.
"Yeah, thanks I-" Dusti cut herself off when she saw who helped her up. A pretty young woman, some years older than herself with long black hair tied in a ponytail, dark skin and startling green eyes. Her flight suit was a gradient from yellow at the top, fading to red at the bottom and decorated with colourful purple and green flowers. Her plane was a modified AeroCanard FG model with the same kind of colour palette, as she could see from her tent just feet away from them.
"Oh my gosh. You're Ishani, right? Pan-Asian champion and Mumbai cup record holder?" Ishani was by far, one of Dusti's biggest heroes ever since she came onto the scene. Dusti was around 10 or 11 at that time. Being only one of a couple female racers, Ishani was the person who inspired Dusti to find her passion and dream for racing. She'd always dream of seeing her in person. And right now, it was getting hard not to squeal or raise her voice.
"Yes, but most people call me just Ishani." The older woman giggled politely at the young teenager. The ginger sure seemed eager to race and Ishani was always up for a new challenger.
"I'm Dusti, with an I. I hope that we can talk more before the big race tomorrow."
"It's very nice to meet you too." She gave a wave to the younger teen before leaving back to her tent.
"She's awesome..."
"Well, well, well, look who made it." A sharp tone made her jump and turn around to find that sleaze ball Ripslinger behind her with a smile. Not a nice one, but a smile.
"The farm gal with her crop-duster."
Dusti didn't say a thing, but avoided his gaze down at her. It didn't help that he towered a whole half a head above her.
"You know, having you here is a nice interest story. Small town farm girl makes it to the big time." He paused a bit and leaned closer to Dusti's ear. "But tragically crashes on takeoff."
"Excuse me?!" That snapped her back to attention.
But that sly, filthy snake disappeared on her.
Dusti clenched her fist at that and growled. How dare he suggest that she was that bad of a flyer! Ooh, if she just had some height on him, she would so rip that propeller off his plane and carve him up like a-
"Hola, señors y señoritas! The hero of the people has arrived!" Out of nowhere, Spanish music started to play as a large man, around Ripslinger's age or a little older, with light brown skin, brown eyes and dark hair hidden under a green and yellow mask strutted into the pits. A cape of the same style was tied around his neck, hiding under the collar of his white, green and red flight suit, accented in yellow.
Cue the awkward stares and cricket chirping.
"You have never heard of the Great El Chupacabra?"
Apparently not, because encore with the previous introduction from the other racers. I mean, everyone was staring. Ripslinger, Bulldog, Ishani, Roper, even Dusti herself was very confused at this brightly dressed racer dancing in here with such flare.
Did she know him from somewhere?
Then one racer found the courage to ask, "Hey, isn't that the monster that sucks blood from little kids?"
"No, no," El Chu laughed at the preposterous statement. "It's just a stage name, designed to strike fear into the hearts of my opponents."
"Y-Yeah," Dusti found her voice again after recovering from the confusion. "He's the indoor racing champion of all Mexico." Now she remembered who he was. She had occasionally watched him on tv in her youth, but not as often as the other racers.
"Indoor racing?" Bulldog asked.
"And numero uno recording artist, telanovela star and romance novelist." El Chu added onto Dusti's statement, walking past the rest of the tents with flare and grinned with pride.
"Did you say El Chupacabra, or El Cookoo-cabra?" Bulldog inquired in a joking taunt, while his assistants chuckled.
That was a mistake as the younger racer got all up in the older one's face, clearly ticked off. "You make joke? You make joke?! Very well, you leave me no choice! I..."
He whipped himself around so his cape fluttered in the air. "Swish my cape at you! You have been shamed." El Chu had no more business with this disrespectful Brit and pranced off to his own tent.
Bulldog only rolled his eyes, mumbling, "I hope I can get over it. Oh, I just did." His assistants giggled once again.
"Hey," Dusti ran to catch up with El Chu. "I saw you race on Telemoto last year. Of course, it was all in Spanish, so I didn't understand everything."
He smiled at the complement. "I am flattered, niñita. You have done many of these long distance rallies, yes?"
"Nah, this is my first one."
"It is my first one as well! We will have many adventures, you and I. We will laugh, we will cry, we will dance!"
"Um...dance?"
"Probably not with each other."
"OK..."
"I will see you in the skies tomorrow, amiga." He let out a whoop and spun around, letting his cape fly again. Dusti only laughed at his antics, but in a friendly way.
This guy... he was something, alright.
"Race fans, it's that time of year again," Brent Mustangburger voice's announced to the audience at home. "Welcome to the Wings around the Globe." The camera then cut to him in his studio. "Hello, I'm Brent Mustangburger and this is the flagship event where only the best of the best compete."
The camera cut to a digital map, plotting out the route and checkpoints in which the racers would be travelling. First was New York, then Iceland, Germany, Nepal, China and others. "Each leg brings a new challenge, testing agility, navigation and endurance.
But when it's all said and done, speed is the name of the game. Our very own Colin Cowling is standing by live from JFK airport with the best seat in the house. How's the view, big guy?"
"Brent," Colin responded over his headset watching afar from the red, white and black blimp. "The scene below me is absolutely electric. As you know, we have racers from all over the world, here.
But the real story should be who's coming in second to three-time defending champ, Ripslinger, who is seeking to become the first four-time winner in the Wings around the Globe."
It cut to the gang back home, watching the TV with excitement. "The racers are making their way to the runway." Several racers appeared on the camera for a few seconds and finally, Strut appeared on screen.
"It's Dusti!" Dottie pointed to her 'sister' on the screen.
"Alright, everybody, get your Dusti bobbleheads. Your oven mitts, hats, bumper stickers, and I also ordered a thousand commemorative whistles." If Dusti were here now, she'd probably die of embarrassment. She was a modest girl and all of that would have been a bit much for her taste.
He turned to Sparky. "Hey, you think you could help me set up a website?"
"Does a giga bite?"
"Not unless you pet him nicely."
Cameras kept flickering in her eyes as she walked out to the runway, Strut being towed along side her. Is this really what paparazzi were like?
Nah, they were probably much worse.
Brent spoke again. "136 nations compete. 21 racers selected. Folks, a step onto this field is a step into history." As she stepped out back into the day, her eyes greeted her with a sight she'd never thought she'd seen in forever.
The runway was absolutely massive and stands of spectators all lined up on both sides, cheering.
"Holy smokes..."
"And for the first time ever, folks," Colin continued. "we have a crop-duster in the race flown by a female racer this year."
In a bar, as two patrons watched the tv, it sounded absurd.
"A crop-duster?" One remarked.
"Well, she's gonna die." His friend replied.
Back to the runway...
As the planes were all lining up for take-off, a team of stunt jets flew overhead, smoke trailing behind them.
Dusti found herself lining up right next to El Chu's plane, a matching Gee Bee Model R. "Muchas gracias, señor." He thanked his assistant.
"Whoa. Look at this crowd." She'd never seen this many vehicles in one place before. Frankly, it made her a little uneasy. But of course, she wasn't going to show it.
"Stay focused, amiga. Don't let anything distract y-ay-yay!" The poor Mexican spoke way too soon before he saw...
Her.
Her gorgeous blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders in delicate waves and her gorgeous green eyes were framed by long lashes. Her flight suit had a Valentine's Day appearance, varying shades of pink and white and her plane matched her colour scheme.
It was love at first sight.
"Who...is that vision?" He asked Dusti.
"Her? That's Rachelle, the Canadian rally champ."
"She is like an angel, sent from heaven. Like a sunrise after a lifetime of darkness..."
Dusti paused at this. OK then... It only surprised her that they hadn't met last night at the pits.
"Alright, racers! Start your engines!"
That was everyone's cue to leap into their planes and start the race. As Dusti climbed into Strut, she gently patted his dashboard. "We're doing it, we're really doing it, Strut."
The sound of engines roaring to life filled the air. It was one of her most favourite sounds in the world. Hearing them in a place like this just made it even better.
Brent's voice came back on. "Seven legs, over 31,000 kilometres, the world's highest mountains and the deepest oceans, all stand before them just waiting to be conquered by the right competitor."
From their tiny tv screen back in Propwash, the race starter came back, green flag in hand.
"Here we go, oh boy!" Chug and Dottie both watched eagerly to see their friend take to the skies.
"All this preparation. It all comes down to this moment. One of these racers is about to fly off into the pages of sports history and become a champion."
Dusti narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath in, in any attempt to calm down her thudding heart. It all came down to this moment. No more measly training sessions through fields and trees, this was her time to shine!
The green flag went up slowly, slowly and finally...
"GO!"
One by one, the racers took to the air, the crowd roaring and hooting behind them.
But Dusti was currently behind everyone and just like Skipper predicted, air currents started to come in on her from all sides.
"Swirlies!" She immediately let Strut descend further down near the ocean and away from the other racers.
"Our first stage is a whopper," said Brent. "A dead sprint across the North Atlantic."
"That's right, Brent." Colin added. "The winner of the first leg today is the first to take off tomorrow."
As the other racers flew free above the clouds, below them a couple thousand feet was Dusti, flying over the expansive mass of the Atlantic.
But as she got further and further north and icebergs started to appear in the ocean, as well as snow and hail started to pelt her plane, she realized,
Maybe I shouldn't have gone this low...
As the other racers enjoyed the warm glow of the fires and their toasty drinks in the lodge, a practically frozen country girl stumbled in, shivering. Cold moisture coated her flight suit and dripped from her hair and nose as she made her way inside.
"Hey, look who's finally here! That low-flying farmer girl!" Dusti felt her teeth grit together as she made her way past the troublesome trio. "You do know this is a race, right?" He called after her.
Meanwhile, El Chu decided that maybe now, he could try and "introduce" himself to Rochelle.
"Excuse me, how much does a snowplow weight?"
"Je ne sais pas. I do not know." Even her accent was so charming!
"Enough to break the ice. I am El Chupacabra." He reached out for her hand and kissed the back of it.
She drew it back, realizing what she was dealing with. "Ah, you are the snow plow, oui?"
"You could say that, yes."
"And I am the ice?"
"...Yes."
This time, she decided to have a little fun with him. "Cold, frozen and lifeless?" With her response came an annoyed look. But deep down, she was trying not to giggle.
"No! I-it's sounds better in Spanish-" That was certainly a kick she got out of him.
"Oh, why don't you go plow yourself, El Chu-Toy?" She let out a bark of laughter before joining one of her other friends.
"...She is like an angel."
Back in Dusti's corner, she was wrapped in a blanket and trying to drink some of her hot chocolate, not really fond of tea or coffee, when her radio buzzed.
"This is Propwash Junction to Dusti Crophopper." She grabbed the control and turned it on.
"Y-Yeah, I read you, Chu-ACHOO!" She let out a big sneeze and wiped her nose with a tissue. She hoped this wouldn't turn into a cold or pneumonia.
"So, what's it like racing with the big dogs, Duster?"
"Cold."
"Man!"
"I had icicles hanging off Strut's wings and underside."
"Alright!"
"And I nearly smashed into a 10-story iceberg. Add potential frostbite and pneumonia to that, and well... I don't know what to think."
"Well, just hang in there buddy."
Skipper took a turn talking to the girl. "Dusti, just like when the Jolly Wrenches were up in the Aleutians, the air down close to the sea has more moisture, which is why you took on ice. You gotta try to fly higher."
She took another sip of her drink. "I'll try, Skip."
"The good news is tomorrow's leg goes through the Bavarian obstacle course. It's all about agility, so it's your chance to move up. And remember, it's not speed that wins races, it's skill."
The team said their goodbyes and Dusti turned the radio off when she noticed the Pan-Asian racer standing next to her.
"Do you want to sit with me and my crew?" Ishani offered the younger racer. "You seem quite cold sitting there all by yourself.
"Uh... sure!" She got up and sat next to the fire pit with Ishani.
"So," Ishani sipped her green tea. "What made you want to become a racer anyways?"
"Well..."
A cute little red-haired girl, 6 years old, eagerly watched the colourful planes soar through the air and twist and turn through the goals. Behind her was a young couple. A woman with long wavy chocolate brown hair and sky blue eyes, next to a man with bright red hair and dark brown eyes.
"Mama, look!" The little girl giggled, pointing at the bright purple plane decorated with pale pink and red flowers that loop-dee-looped in the air at the front of the pack. "She's winning!"
"Yes, Dusti. She's winning, alright." Her mother took her on her shoulders so she could see better. The racer Dusti pointed at was the only female racer currently in the racing season. She was a Hawaiian woman named Akela and was doing exceptionally well, for the only woman in the race.
As Akela dipped again, spinning as she got closer to the ground, Dusti asked her mother,
"Mama, do you think I could become a racer like her?"
Jackie Crophopper took her daughter off her shoulders and knelt down to her level, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"My little aviator, I know you can reach your dreams one day. And if you dream of being an air racer, then you can be an air racer. All you need is the determination and perseverance to make that dream come true."
"Do you really think so?" Sky blue eyes were wide in hope.
And as Jackie watched the purple plane soar across the finish line and the crowd erupt into cheers, she knew.
"I know so."
"Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman, Dusti." Ishani remarked. Her parents were far less supportive of her dreams to become an air racer.
"Yeah... she was." A look of realization crossed the Pan-Asian's face and her hand flew to her lips.
"Oh, I'm sorry." She hadn't meant to bring any unpleasant memories back up again for Dusti.
"No, it's fine. I'm sure if she was here, she'd be so proud of me."
The two sat in silence, until Dusti got to her feet again, her drink finished.
"It's getting late. I'm gonna go to my room and get some sleep."
"See you tomorrow?"
"Of course."
Skipper was right about one thing, the Bavarian obstacle course was much more suited for her. She was well-trained in her ability to fly with agility and grace and was showing it off quite well right now.
Maybe this was her chance to move up.
But fate had another answer for Dusti Crophopper.
A place ahead of her, Bulldog's plane had a malfunction in its right engine, seizing up with sparks and smoke pouring from it. A squirt of black oil shot out and splattered all over the windshield, blinding the racer. It didn't help that it was nighttime.
"Mayday, mayday, mayday! I'm blinded, I can't see!" He frantically called for help from his radio as his plane descended downwards at a rapid pace.
Brent appeared back on screen to report the incident. "We're receiving breaking news of an incident in the skies above Germany involving one of the racers. Let's check in with SkyCam 1 for more information."
Switching to the guy monitoring the situation with a search light from the helicopter, he did his best to report what was happening, despite it being very dark out. "Bulldog, the legendary flyer from the UK, is in tremendous danger. It looks like he's flying blind, losing speed, losing altitude..." Many people watching grew horrified at what could happen to the older racer if help didn't come soon enough.
But miracles do happen and Dusti wasn't someone to let another person die. Even if that did mean placing further behind than she'd hoped.
"Wait! It's Racer Number 7, Crophopper, pulling up beside him!"
"Bulldog! Apply your left aileron!" She radioed to him. Still in a panic, but not as much, knowing someone was helping him, he followed her command and flipped himself back around. "Stop roll!"
"Now quick, pull up!"
"Got it!" The two managed to evade the forest below them.
"Harder, harder! Slight roll right!" Under the bridge they went, their wings barely skimming the surface of the water. "Good!"
"Big castle!" She yelped when she saw the humongous building they were heading right towards. "Pull up, hard roll right! Stop roll!" Somehow, he obeyed Dusti's orders just in time to avoid smashing into the towers of the castle.
"Are you still there?" He cried out, after flying right through a flag, tearing it to shreds.
"Don't worry, I'm not leaving your side until you're safe on the ground!" Dusti kept good speed with Bulldog.
As the other racers made their descent, the runway was being cleared for Bulldog's descent and an ambulance was being dispatched onto the field.
"Add power, easy now. Good." They were so close to the runway... "Flaps down, lock them."
"Careful, niñita.." El Chu whispered.
"Landing gear down."
"Yeah, and locked."
"Begin your flare. Power back a little." A little more... a little more...
The crowd's breath was baited; would she get Bulldog back on the ground safely?
The Havilland's wheels made contact with pavement as they both landed back on the ground, Dusti behind him and now in last place. But right now, Bulldog's safety was much more important. "Touchdown!"
The crowd found this moment to cheer for both her heroic actions and the racer's safety. An emergency crew came to see if Bulldog was alright or suffered any injuries while in the air.
Bulldog opened the windshield and stumbled out, a bit shaken up, but otherwise alright. His crew took the Havilland away to get it repaired and cleaned.
"Thanks for your help, lassie. I couldn't have done it without..." He trailed off when he saw her climb out of her own plane.
"You? You saved me? What did I tell you, girl? Every racer for himself, right?" He couldn't understand why she would just sacrifice her place in the race to help him.
"Where I come from, if you see someone falling from the sky-"
"Yes, but this is a competition! Now you're dead last. And..." He sniffled a bit. "I owe you my life."
"Are you... crying?" Dusti asked.
"I don't cry, I'm British!" Bulldog denied, wiping away those stubborn bits of moisture from his eyes. "But thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Bulldog!" A sudden crowd of paparazzi appeared to interview the UK racer about his troubling ordeal in the air.
"I gotta say, farm girl." She jumped at his voice. Man, he had to stop doing that. "You're a nice one." That didn't sound right.
"Uh...tha-"
"And we all know where nice people end up." And there it was.
"Oh, leave the poor girl alone, you git. Don't you have somewhere else to go?" Bulldog stepped in.
"Fine, we'll go, grandpa. Little girl can't fight her own battles. Besides, I got a shiatsu massage with my name on it." He left with his two cronies trailing behind him like puppy dogs.
"Ignore him, Dusti. Ripslinger may be a winner, but that bloke has no sense of humility." Bulldog gently rested his hand on her shoulder.
"I kinda figured that out when I saw him at the starting point."
"Listen, would you like to come to my tent later and have some refreshments after we get settled in? I think it would be nice if we got to know each other a little more."
Dusti nodded. "OK.. I'll be there."
"Does 7:15 sound good?"
"Sure."
Niñita - Little Girl
And in case any of you are wondering what Dusti looks like in Plane form...think of the original Dusty, but with a paler orange colouration and different black and blue designs. I'll leave the rest to your imagination.