Hello all. I forgot to mention here I made a small reference to a story that was written by fellow BMFM fanatic inuficcrzy. I'm so sorry! If you want me to, I shall delete the words from the story immediately. Just email me. Its a great trilogy though, so if you haven't already, do yourself a favour and read them. Z.

Chapter 5

The bike cruised beautifully around the streets of Chicago. The engine sounded like a deep growl at low revs, but screamed like an Italian sportscar when Spectre, now dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, opened her up. Shattered, repaired, and now renewed. They really had worked well together as a team. After deciding to move closer into the city, they happened across a large gathering of people, surrounding a group of what sounded like people with some lively motorbikes.

It's a street race," Charley said to herself.

"A what?"

"A street race. People have a mass-gathering somewhere with cars or bikes and race on a set track. It's illegal, really, but it's lots of fun."

"You've done this sort of thing before?" Spectre turned to look at the lady mechanic.

"Well, a few times. I've started a few races too," she said, with a gleam in her eye that could only be described as devilish. It was then that she thought of an idea.

"Hey, this would be a great chance to test out your bike's makeover," urged Charley.

"You want me to race? What if I go too hard?" asked Spectre, a little alarmed.

"It's ok, nothing bad will happen. Everything will be fine, I promise," Charley smiled at him, trying to persuade him by using her charm.

"Well, ok, I guess. You did help me fix her, after all."

Charley smiled. "These are all Earth bikes, and these guys don't really know what they're doing.

He was just about to head to the start when Charley saw a gleaming red sports bike approach the line. She was able to recognise that sweet piece of machinery anywhere, anytime.

"Wait," she called, getting his attention. "That guy over there, on the red bike..."

After a very quick spiel about Vinnie's obnoxious flirting, unflinching ego, and taste for high-risk acrobatics on his bike, Spectre joined this race with a mission.

Kick his butt.

She also mentioned that he and his bike weren't exactly from the planet they were currently residing on.

*

Vinnie waited impatiently on the start line, which had been sprayed across the road by a couple of youths. He thought these races wouldn't take this long to get under way. They had five racers ready to go, including himself.

Then, a final bike joined the race, right next to the white adrenaline junkie. It was painted a deep purple that looked almost scary, the the bodywork was immaculate, and the engine sounded flawless. The riders face was obscured by his large helmet. Vinnie decided to have a little fun.

"Hey man, if you can finish less than a quarter mile behind me, you can join my entourage," he jeered.

The opposing rider merely looked at him, shrugged and focused forward again. Grumbling to himself, Vinnie did the same.

An attractive blonde girl made her way out to the centre of the road, with only a checked flag wrapped around her body. Someone in the background said that when the flag hit the ground, the race started. He was hard to hear though, the engines of all the bikes growling and screaming from riders getting overzealous with their right hands.

The blonde girl suddenly ripped the flag off her body, revealing a black and white bikini underneath. The flag hit the road...

And it was on.

*

It was one thing to see bikers start to slow down about three-quarts through a race if it was blatantly obvious they weren't going to win a thing. It was another thing when they all stopped riding after about a hundred metres.

All except two.

Vinnie and Spectre.

After blasting off the start line at gut-wrenching speeds and leaving the rest of the pack left in a daze, the two young men rocketed along the empty streets of the busy city. Two flashes of red and purple was all that could be seen by the people lining the footpaths.

At first, Vinnie was surprised about the talented bike jockey. His cycle was certainly suped-up, able to keep up with Sweetheart. The first straight mostly involved Vinnie a metre or two in front, when the white furball decided to spice things up.

Turning to a line of cars parked on the side of the road, he jumped his bike up and started bouncing off the roof of the first car, then the second, going down the line, leaving large dents and tyre marks in his wake.

"YAHOO!" he whooped with glee.

Spectre eyed Vinnie's characteristic riding. "Yeah, Charley's knows him, alright," he said to himself.

The first corner was a very sharp left hander. Vinnie vaulted from the cars to the road, and in perfect synchronisation, they executed a sliding turn around the bend and tore down the next section of the track, which was considerably narrower than the first.

Vinnie had gotten slightly ahead of his unknown opponent and started flamboyantly cutting him off from trying to get past. If he went left, Vinnie copied. Going right didn't help either.

Vinnie started singing, "Oh, anything you can do, I can do betterrrrrr!"

"Ok then, pretty boy. Let's play canyon tag," Spectre muttered to himself.

Gunning the screaming engine even more, he guided Oblivion up the side of an apartment building and, in a gravity-defying stunt the Biker Mice did on Limburger tower most of the time, started riding along its wall. He got a little way ahead of the red bike, then turned back to the road, now leading the race.

Vinnie stopped his singing at the sight of the purple bike in front of him. And with not much track left to race on, his efforts to try and get back into first position got even more drastic. Finally, his competitive nature got the best of him and he briefly nudged the back tyre of the purple bike, just enough to force him into an error.

Unfortunately, the nudge had caused Spectre to be sent into a skid, and he started spinning out of control. Panicking, he tried to right the steering, and then he just saw, out of the corner of his eye, the small hatchback that he would be hitting in a few seconds. In the dizzying tailspin, his sight left him, and all he could see was black.