The ending. For reals this time. Thanks for reading Hardcore SSX. I may try my hand at another SSX story: I've actually got a more serious story for SSX Blur competitor Maya Nolet somewhere in the recesses of my mind. Until then, check out this epilogue, which is far longer than I'd originally planned.
EPILOGUE
"What's a flaming sushi roll?" Mac asked while pointing to the mystery product on the menu.
"Ah, it's my own invention," Brodi said. "Fatty tuna and cucumber, rolled in rice in seaweed, doused in sake, and then set aflame for five seconds. The tuna is lightly seared for flavor. For added effect, I light two oak leaves, still on the branch, their wafting aroma meant to mentally stimulate memories of autumn."
"It sounds romantic," Kaori said.
"Um, I guess," Mac said. He stroked his chin. "The price though..."
"Buddha blesses the generous," Brodi said, filling their cups with green tea, "but for you, it'll be on the house."
As Brodi retreated to the sushi bar, Mac held Kaori's hand. "So," Mac said softly, "our first date."
Kaori shook her head. "We have been partners on this tour for so long," she said, "that it does not feel like it. You have always been so kind to me, Mac. I was just not ever able to communicate my gratitude before."
"So," Mac said, his face blushing just a little, "you don't regret turning your back on the guy who taught you English?"
"Silly," Kaori said. "I have respect for Sid, yes. But you do not fall in love with you teacher. Teachers give. It is one way. I always wanted to be with someone two way, someone who shared. It was you, Mac. It was always you."
One table over, Zoe and Moby couldn't help but overhear the conversation. Zoe turned to Moby, a smile spreading across her face.
"I give them three kids, tops," she whispered slyly. "Good money that one of them looks like Appollo Ohno."
Moby sipped his sake. "Oy, remember when we were like that?" he said, looking at Mac and Kaori through a sidelong glance. "It's been so long now. We were always holding hands, mooning over each other, and taking in belabored metaphors. We barely see each other nowadays. Cripes, did we get too familiar with each other?"
Zoe narrowed her eyes sultrily. She leaned over the table. "Moby," she said in a soft, coy voice.
"Yes, luv?"
Suddenly, Zoe caught Moby in an inescapable headlock, and she rubbed her knuckles along his close shaven head. "Why in the hell did you get rid of dreadlocks?" she said mischievously. "You look like Mos friggin' Def!"
Moby screamed, trying to get Zoe to stop the noggie and utterly failing.
Mac looked over and shook his head. "Those two," he muttered with a slightly amused tone.
Kaori, on the other had, had different thoughts. Who knew how long this new relationship with Mac would last. If they got far, though, she knew she wanted to be just like Zoe and Moby: laughing together, loving each other, and the best of friends.
--
Allegra tossed aside an empty bottle of sake. "I don't know how Brodi can stock this stuff with a good conscience," she said. "It tastes terrible, like I'm guzzling down cooking wine. And I am so not getting a buzz."
She was sitting in a hot tub, located on an outdoor patio that overlooked downtown Metro City and Big Mountain behind it. She soaked in the water while wearing a flowery green and yellow bikini. Her red hair was unbraided, and it hung down the back of her head and down into the warm water. Sitting next to her was Viggo, who was relaxing in retro orange and brown boarder shorts.
"You realize this is crazy, right?" he said. "The minute we step out of this tub, we're exposing ourselves to temperatures southward of negative 15 Celsius."
Allegra leaned back and closed her eyes. "Less crowded that way," she said.
"How's the eye?"
"Not too bad. A little sore. I briefly thought about putting a T-bone steak on it, but I thought this tub might start smelling like beef stew."
"Oh. Good call. Next time you think about doing something like that, call me first. I'll bring the carrots and the boullion cubes."
Allegra snorted. She opened her eyes. Snow was falling. It was a gentle snowfall. If you looked straight up into the grey sky, it seemed otherworldly, as if you were headed into hyperspace or if you were stuck inside an old Microsoft screensaver. One landed on her eyelash. She regarded the odd six-sided panel for a few seconds before she blinked it away.
"You know, I thought I really had a chance," she finally said. "We had so much in common. I guess you can never really win against the terrible, irreversible machinations of fate."
"You've always had terrible taste in men," Viggo said.
Allegra pursed her lips mockingly. "Even you?"
Viggo put his cup of sake down at the edge of the tub. "You know I'm spoken for," he said.
"You and her still together, huh?" Allegra said with a trace of melancholy. "Damn. Sounds serious."
A chorus of shrieks broke up the silence. Townspeople dropped their shopping bags, dodging the street and pressing themselves flat against the storefronts. Barrelling down Big Mountain, like an unstoppable force of nature, was Psymon Stark. His hair, no longer pink but his natural brown, was flattened backwards, still in the shape of a mohawk, yet slick backwards as if a small trail of smoke were following his head. His mouth curled in a Jokeresque grin, while his wide, hyena eyes betrayed any shred of sanity.
He knocked down one unfortunate pedestrian, which did nothing to slow him down. "Whoops!" he called back. As he passed the hot tub, he threw his head back and let out an unearthly cackle. "French toast and SYRRRUUPPP!!" he screamed.
"Think I have a chance with that guy?" Allegra said lazily.
"What?" Viggo stammered. "You're joking, right?" Allegra shook her head. "Are you nuts? He's not pretend insane, Allegra. He's certifiably insane. As in, he's spent time at a santorium. And he, like, nine years older than you!"
Allegra smiled. "I take that as a yes," she said.
--
Eddie's jaw dropped. "You'd do that for us?"
He was driving a rented four-by-four, with Skye in the passenger seat. They were headed toward the regional office Skye's main sponsor, Montraptor Outdoor Clothing, where Skye was scheduled ot have a meeting with the company CEO in less than half an hour.
"Sure," Skye said. "i've got quite a bit of clout now that I'm this year's SSX champion. Hell, I've already been signed up for the next competition. They're calling it 'Blur,' I think.
"And you gotta consider that I'm the literal public face of Montraptor. And it's a very big company. The Outdoor Clothing division is but a small division in the whole company. There's a watercraft division, an ATV division... I think there one that rebrands MRE's for campers. Montraptor even has its own satellite TV station. It's not much and does a pretty small market, but I think you're show fits right in. The channel does a lot of small time sports events. If we land SSX on the channel, I think it could do huge ratings and put Montraptor TV on the map. In any case, it wouldn't hurt to ask."
Eddie stopped the SUV at the building's entrance. It was a generic office building with a Bavarian style facade.
"God, you're doll!" Eddie said ecstatically. He let out three whoops. "Skye, you're ... you're the greatest."
"Tell me something I don't know, love," Skye said, pecking Eddie on the cheek. Eddie's face turned beet red. Skye dug into her coat pocket and fished out a twenty dollar bill. "There's a Tim Horton's around the corner. Pick up a couple of lattes. I'll give you a call when I'm finished."
--
"This is a highly unusual request," the Montraptor CEO said as he leaned back in his chair. He was a somewhat portly, balding man. He spoke with a similar Australian accent. "I have no doubt that SSX coverage would boost our network ratings, but I'm not so sure about this 'Hardcore SSX' show. It barely drew enough ratings on the Bravo Network to justify investment. Are you sure there's nothing personal involved? The tabloids have been rather abuzz with your relationship with its host."
"Partially," Skye said in a cold, professional tone which seemed incongruent with her young age. She was sitting across the conference table from the CEO, her feet propped on the table. "Eddie is a very sweet guy, that I cannot deny. But I have high hopes for this show. I've got no data, but I think it's reaching the right demographic."
"One of your hunches?"
"Am I ever wrong?"
"I don't know. That last stunt of yours cost us quite a bit of cash. Black market nitroglycerin don't exactly come cheap, you know."
"And look at the riches it got you! Carl," she said, refering the the CEO by his first name, "did you see the Montraptor profits after I won? Revenues were up nearly five-hundred percent over last year in just one day. You don't get that kind of revenue with your run of the mill SSX race.
"You get that when every news network in the world is converging on the mountain because I delivered what everyone wants to see: scandal. No one paid attention to the Winter Olympics until you threw those junkie snowboarders in it. No one gave a flying fig about the Tour de France until everyone screamed blue about steroids. Who wins? Whoever can weather the storm, me bucko.
"All the money Montraptor put up for the explosives and the cover up... you already made it back and much, much more.
"And the best part? Everyone's got their sights set on that Stieber nutcase. No one really liked him, so everyone quick to put all the blame on him. All I had to do was surrepitously drop a mysterious shipment of explosives at his doorstep and 'accidentally' lead him to the blueprints of Hot Dam online. None of it's traceable.
"No one will expect that the cute, eco-friendly, dolphin-loving SSX champion from Australia had anything to do with it. Nobody dies, a bunch of misanthropes are put in the slammer, I've got the SSX trophy, and money rolls into Montraptor."
"Hmmm," said the CEO. "So are you telling me that Eddie Wachowski is being set up as your next patsy?"
"Perish the thought," said Skye in mock horror. "I merely suggested that my high gamble concepts lead to serious payoffs. Beyond that, I promise you nothing."
"I'll put it into consideration," the CEO replied. He dug into his briefcase and slapped some files on the conference table. "For now, let's talk about your training for next year. Our scouts have found a partner for you. Name is Felix Levesque. He's from Quebec, son of a couple of Quebecois nationalists. He's a bit of a showboater, acts a tad like a young Moby Jones, but his style is highly complimentary to yours. We might not have to resort to explosives this time around."
"Oh," said Skye, folding her fingers, "don't bank on it. A good con knows you never repeat the same trick twice."
END