Disclaimer: I own Blake, BUT NOTHING ELSE! WHY ME!? Ahem.

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Can't be bothered to log in( ): Thank you, I had to go to the site for some info and company names (like, in this one, "Fantom Force") are made up. CrazyTomboy: Sorry, its called HOMEWORK.

I walked to my soon-to-be racer after that night of great dreams. I saw myself racing in the grand-prix and winning the galactic cup in my racer, "The Blazing Cannon." I was walking on victory lane and then being put in the hall of fame. Captain Falcon was MY fan and I had my own fan club. But, as fate always has it, I woke up.

I hopped into my car and drove of to the old driver's garage. It's on the other side of town so it's a good 45-minute drive. I drove kind of fast but there wasn't that low of a speed limit on the interstate. I saw his shop and pulled up to the curb next to it. It's a small building that has, "Silver Neelson" spray painted on the top. It was gray and had indentions in it so it looked like waves.

He saw me walking in and asked, "what's yer name, son?"

" I'm Blake Cannon," I replied, "you must be 'Iron man Neelson.'"

"Yep, I guess you could call me that," he said. "So, what d' you need, son?"

" I'm trying to turn my car into a racer, but I need to fix this old laser shield. Can you fix?"

" Hmmm..." he pondered, "it looks like an old Fantom Force shield. And it has a broken timing belt (AN timing belts are real if you didn't know). "

" Can you fix it?" I eagerly asked.

" I'd look that way, sonny." The old man replied.

" That's good, I..." Then something caught the corner of my eye. " Get down, Silver." I said as I pulled my gun out.

" Uh, okay." He got under some old scrap metal, "why?"

I had no time to talk. I shot two rounds and dove for cover. I knew he would be back to take my engines. That's right. It was Michael.

He blasted his rife and hit the scrap harshly. I shot my pistol to his location about 90 yards away. I hit his racer and put some nice dents into it. He shot the rife again and the shell scratched my face. It was very, VERY painful. It was like being nailed by a 100-mph pitch from two feet away. I quickly retaliated and shot a few of my own, one of them hitting him. He recoiled in pain from the shot and got into his racer, driving off. I helped Silver up and he shot this question at me.

" WHAT WAS THAT ALL ABOUT!"

" Sir," I scarily asked, "I-I-I'm sorry."

" WHY WAS I ALMOST KILLED!" he said as he was hitting me with his cane.

" Ow, it's a long story. It started yesterday..." So I told him it.

He thought it was strange that I stole parts for my first racer. It looked like he wanted to tell me a story also.

" I stole parts for my first racer also. Very long time ago and I was a young lad like you. I stole those parts, but I didn't know they belonged to someone else, but THEY stole it first so I guess I wasn't the criminal. But any way, you don't want to listen to an old man rambling, so let's look at that shield."

He fixed it in a matter of hours and said I could enter the race tomorrow. He said I would have to put the name on it, so we spray painted Blazing Cannon on it. I went back to my apartment for some R&R, waiting for the night to be over. When I would get there they would put my number on it, which would probable be 32. But I just went to sleep, thinking about the next day, and dead-bolting my doors and windows.