Chapter II - "Caution to the Wind"
"What? It's absolutely doable!"
Falco rolled his eyes at his friend. Everything up until the end of his slopestyle beta would have been perfectly fine for getting a gold medal this season. Knowing Fox had encountered Wolf on the slopes though, there was no doubt he needed to keep his run as far above the rest as possible.
Still though, a backside triple-cork 1440? Even Falco knew he wasn't stupid enough for a stunt like that.
The pheasant killed off the last of his energy drink, throwing the can in a nearby trash bin. He handed the data slate back to Fox before grabbing his board from the lodge's rack.
"Yeah, doable if you had one of those Cerinian boards. I'm not one to stop dumbassery but even I know my limits."
Fox stowed the tablet in his backpack, grabbing his own board as well.
"Quit being such a pessimist. I've done triple corks, I've done backside 1440's. How hard could it be to put three flips and four spins together?"
The two gently skated away from the lodge, bending down to strap in fully as they did so. Fox took the lead, leaning to point his board in the direction of the terrain park. They crossed through the trees, throwing snow into the air as they carved the tight corners of the narrow passage. The path eventually opened to a straight, where Falco began to inch ahead. The pheasant got a devious look in his eye as he quickly shifted his rear foot. A cloud of powder sprung up and blew right into Fox's vision.
By the time they'd reached the top of the terrain park, Fox socked him in the shoulder.
"Alright flyboy, show me what you got," Falco said as he rubbed it off.
The vulpine rolled his eyes before setting off down the slope. Few people were around because of how early it was in the season, meaning Fox got to let loose more than usual. As he barrelled down the slope, he picked his front foot up and spun it around. He squatted and sprung for the first jump, grabbing the tail end of his snowboard with both hands and pointing the front down. He landed on the next slope with a satisfying thump.
Falco followed him closely, watching as the vulpine hopped on a rail. He leaned as it swerved to keep his balance, eventually doing a quick 180 before landing. He pulled back as Fox cut across him, sliding up a quarter pipe to handstand at the top.
He caught Fox's shit-eating grin as he turned and let his board fall back down the ramp. Over the next jump, he rolled forward. Fox kept his limbs frozen in place, drawing out the front flip as long as possible before landing the lawn dart.
Fox carved off to the side and stopped after he landed. Falco followed, wondering what the hold-up was.
"Having second thoughts?"
"Maybe a little bit," Fox replied. "Not gonna stop me though. Just four rotations, three off-axis. That's all I need."
Falco bit his tongue, not wanting to discourage him. "Fine. Just know your limits."
Fox nodded before checking his straps, and setting off. After another butter ending in a 180, the final jump was closing in. The white stripe on Fox's head ruffled in the wind, the vulpine lowering himself to pick up as much speed as possible. Falco carved around the jump, coming to a stop by the treeline as he watched.
Fox jumped. His rotations began, rolling backward at the same time. Falco began to count.
'One… Two… Three…'
Fox pulled out of the spin about three and a half rotations in. He just barely landed, eventually catching a bad edge and wiping out in a cloud of snow. Falco glided up to him, making sure to dust him in more snow as he stopped.
"Gee, thanks," Fox grunted.
Falco smirked as he reached out a hand. "1080. Close, but no cigar."
Fox took his outstretched arm, shaking the snow off as he got up. "Really? I lost count when I looked down."
"You did about three and a half before you pulled out."
The vulpine pursed his lips and nodded. He leaned back and stretched his limbs before they began a gentle carve towards the bottom.
"I guess it's back to the squat rack for me, then."
"You'd better be going ham if you expect to pull that off. We've only got about a month before the comp starts."
They continued their ride to the base of the mountain, eventually reaching one of the many lodges. Fox released the straps locking his boots to his bindings, stepping out as he rolled his neck.
"If I'm being honest, there's a lot more you could do in that run too," Falco mentioned. The lodge's doors slid open, releasing a wave of heat. "Everything you did was completely within your limit."
Fox eyed him. "Didn't you tell me earlier that I should know my limits?"
Falco balked in response.
"That's your limit? I was only referring to your last jump. Everything else in that run was mid!"
The gears in Fox's head began to turn. He only ran a real risk of wiping out on his final jump. Nothing else in his run really raised the bar when it came to his show of skill. It was all spins and butters on the ground and flips in the air, big deal. If he had any shot at coming out on top at this year's galactic slopestyle, he needed to pull out all the stops.
"I hear Wolf's gunning for your spot at the top too, hotshot," Falco taunted.
"Yeah, yeah. I got it. More flair. Lemme eat first and I'll meet you at the top."
With that, Falco nodded and headed for the door. He sat on one of the picnic tables near the board racks, resting his boots on the seat as he looked up at the mountain. He was never really one to stop and enjoy the scenery, but it being Fox's turn to compete this year meant he didn't have to worry about the competition looming closer..
"Oh. Hey, Falco."
The pheasant looked to the source of the posh voice, seeing the member of the mountain fun police who usually dug him and Fox out of the backcountry. He hated most of the patrol and lifties, but Krystal never had the same uptight attitude. He'd always pushed Fox to get her number, but somehow one of the most skilled slopestyle boarders in the galaxy couldn't muster the courage to ask a girl out.
"Hey."
Krystal passed him by in her personal white and blue snow gear, retrieving her board from the rack. Its white accents glistened in the sunlight.
"Fox get stuck somewhere again or did you just happen to crawl your way out this time?" She teased.
"No, I did make sure to dust him when he wiped out, though."
The azure vixen snorted.
"Tell him I said hi, will you? Somebody else will have to rescue him today while I hit the backcountry."
Falco nodded, watching her skate off toward the lift.
That was a few weeks ago. Now, Falco sat on the same table, watching idly as dozens of people clad in their snow gear made their way to and from the lift. He smirked as he watched a group of friends in snowboard gear laugh as one of their own struggles to walk down a few steps in ski boots. As for Fox's preparation for the competition, at this point he was far more confident in his ability to pull off one of the biggest moves the system had ever seen. To Fox's credit, he had done exactly as Falco told him. The squat rack was a staple of the vulpine's daily schedule, quickly pushing himself to the point where his (still, admittedly stupid and unnecessary) finisher move was within reach. Couple that with a nice helping of flair to his slopestyle routine, and it seemed like he had gold in the bag.
Compared to a few weeks ago, it would've seemed like Falco was letting his friend throw caution to the wind, but he was confident enough in his ability.
"Ready?"
The pheasant looked to his side and found the fox in question dusting his bindings off.
"Thought I'd be asking you that," Falco smirked. "You're the one competing after all."
Fox just shrugged.
"Whatever happens, happens. Now c'mon, I got a gold to win."
Falco grabbed his board and the two skated towards the lift, indulging the media coverage that came from all the different planets across the galaxy to broadcast. He could see the competitive spirit in Fox that had been building since the preseason, now coming out in the quick responses he gave to the microphones. It was always like Fox to never be cocky or arrogant, but the confidence he radiated was far from mistaken.
As the chair lift climbed higher up the mountain, Falco turned to his friend.
"Alright, gimme the rundown."
Fox nodded as he scanned the terrain park from the top. After setting off from the starting gate, he'd grab the tail end of his board with both hands, this time adding a backflip for good measure. The 50/50 rail came next, followed by the same quarter pipe. Fox would not only do the same handstand at the top, but also flip his board around as he dropped back down the slope. After a quick butter to return to his more comfortable riding stance, he'd hit the second to last jump. The crowd was bound to like the lawn dart, so he kept the flashy move in. A quick jump off a side hit to land a 360, and he'd be at the final jump of the run.
And, up to this point, that was exactly how the run had gone. Falco had been at the top of the slope near the starting gate, sitting on a bench as he and the other competitors watched the events unfold. Everyone cheered him on, gripping the edges of their seats as the vulpine closed in on the gargantuan jump. Falco sucked in a breath and held it, watching Fox squat, wind up, and let loose. The pheasant began to count the rotations in nervous anticipation.
'One.'
The press and the other competitors let out excited gasps; whatever he was going for at this point had to be huge. Cameras flashed from every angle.
'Two.'
The sounds of the others began to fade away as he was completely focused on the large screen in front of them. Fox's rotation began to roll off-axis as the triple cork started to take shape.
'Three.'
His heart was pounding. He was so close. Another flip and a half went by.
'Four!'
Falco exhaled once the last rotation passed, watching in awe as Fox opened up and prepared for landing.
But he kept rotating.
'Uh oh.'
The adrenaline came rushing back as his heart skipped a few beats. Fox had passed the point of a proper landing at this point. By now it would take a miracle to save the jump. There was no saving it; not on his own. He was going to–
The small crowd at the top of the park quickly went from 'oh yeahs' to 'oh shits.' He caught the same bad edge on the landing, and every major sports broadcaster in the entire Lylat system got it on tape.
Fox's entire body whipped forward, landing in a violent, powdery crash.
Falco shot up from his seat. His friend wasn't moving. The commentators were deaf to his ears as he quickly got his board and took off down a side route. To say this was bad was an understatement. He wasted no time in rocketing down to the base of the mountain, but even he knew there wasn't much he could do. By the time he'd reached the bottom, he spotted Fox being carried off the slope in a stretcher. The pheasant cursed under his breath, repeating it several times over. He unhooked his bindings and began to run as fast as he could through the snow. The crowd seemed to be in a commotion, some trying to get closer to Fox than he liked.
As he neared the group carrying his friend, Falco spotted a blue vixen at one of the stretcher's carry points, frowning in worry as she stared at him. A few groups of fans had to be kept away from the injured fox by the rest of the snow patrol. Fox managed to give him a weak thumbs-up as he reached them.
"Yeah, doc says I broke my femur."
Falco was now looking at the x-ray on the screen once the events of the botched landing finished replaying in his head. Fox had a nice clean break across his leg.
"I think the doc's right on this one," he agreed. "How long are you gonna be out of commission?"
Fox was sitting in a hospital bed, his leg propped up in a sling and a few wires running between him and a heart rate monitor.
"Four months," Fox grumbled. "So basically the rest of the season."
A swear escaped Falco's beak. "You looked like you were gonna land that, too."
Fox voiced his agreement, propping his head up with his arms.
"Yeah. I think I made it all the way, just went too far before the landing. Honestly, at this point I'm not even mad I threw the run. Missing out on an entire season is worse."
"And you better not try to skirt the healing time," a new voice admonished him as its owner entered the room. It was Dr. Fay Spaniel, dressed in black scrubs that complimented her white fur. She carried a data tablet in and stuck it to the foot of Fox's bed, letting the magnets hold it in place. "I don't care how fine you feel in two months, because I'll make sure the snow patrol drags you back here in an instant."
Her playful demeanor was less than subtle, knowing full well what kind of mischief Fox and Falco would get up to.
Falco snickered at her chiding. "Bet Krystal wouldn't mind that."
Fox failed to stop the blush in his ears as he dragged his hands down his face.
"You should've seen her reaction, man," he mumbled. "I don't know if she was pissed or terrified."
"Probably both."
"Whoever's keeping a leash on you, they're gonna have to make sure you're taking your meds," Fay muttered, scribbling on another tablet. "And that you're keeping that leg elevated, but I don't see you getting out of the sling anytime soon. I need to go fill out your prescription, just yell if you need anything."
Once the doctor had left, Falco got a devilish idea.
"Y'know, I think I might just get Krystal to come take care of you. I bet she wouldn't mind."
Fox's ears turned a nice beet red, along with the majority of his face.
"Asshole."
Like butter, Zoinks.
