Fascinating Villains

{49} - Wheels

I have not had much time to practice with my wheel extensions, so my start is a bit... Questionable.

The gunshot is still ringing in my ears, yet half of the racers are already meters ahead and hitting each other to be in the lead.

I frankly do not mind skating away from the others and ending up last. All I need to do is remain uninteresting and hinder the race's progress when I get the opportunity. To blend in better, I speed up a little, trailing the last competitors without lapping them.

I'm not here to win...

The woman right ahead of me, Midnight Sex, glances over her shoulder and spits at me. Her saliva splashes on my shoulder as she gets in front of Cupid's Asshole. I blink, conflicted and shocked.

Okay. Maybe I am here to win.

I frown and, before I know it, I am swerving, dodging elbows, overtaking and skating my way to victory.

I am, in fact, great at this?!

Avoiding my opponents' moves when I can read all their minds is child's play. Even better, there are no rules. I personally think killing should be prohibited, but the only official rule is that whoever completes eight counterclockwise laps of the track first is the winner. And while no one is allowed to wield weapons, gear modifications are encouraged.

The part of me that genuinely wonders if my skills are superior to theirs is taking over my consciousness. My experience on roller skates combines the agility, strength, precision and fearless mindset required for figures with the endurance, balance and clever pacing that are developed by travelling with them.

Speeding past my rivals, invigorated by the cacophonous mess of the commentator yelling over the hysterical crowd, blending into the repetitive clacking and screeching of our wheels on the scratched flooring, scarcely letting in fragments of thoughts, I realize that I am on my fourth lap. Only Love Burns and Heart Crasher are skating ahead of me, I am in third place, as things stand. 

I skate across a streak of blood on the ground, looking up. I am going faster than ever and my brain wants to focus on the race, but I am rolling on a relatively straight curve, which allows me to scour the walls above the bleachers. At last, I see the digital board, letting Lace Panties overtake me. Only 26 minutes have gone by... I need to do something.

"LACE PANTIES, MARRY ME!" cries an inebriated spectator, grabbing the fence with both hands and tugging on it frantically. 

As I review the troublesome, energized crowd, an idea dawns on me.

I skate hurriedly to the front of the mob, suddenly spinning in a circle to avoid Lace Panties' attempt to tackle me, and he slams helplessly into the dasher board to our right.

Keeping my momentum, I get in front of Love Burns, flipping him off.

My tactic is purposefully reckless, I want him to... The man barrels to block me, and punches me in the stomach. 

Struggling to breathe, I feel a crippling pain burning my entire upper body, barely acknowledging that he has pushed me out of the track.

Staggering and slipping on my roller skates, I pound at full speed into the wooden side of the ring, underneath the bleachers. The hit I receive to the head nearly knocks me out, but I am gripping on the thin ledge between the panel and the fence as I collapse onto my knees.

I wish I wore a helmet. But, I have something to achieve, and the longer I remain sprawled over here, the more conspicuous I become. Still on my knees, I lift my eyes toward the audience. No one is watching me closely, so I press my right fingertips to the chain link structure. I swiftly cut the bottom of the fence with a subtle ray of kryptonite energy, pushing myself away.