Power and Attitude: The Hero Prophecy Book 1
As if monsters and death arent enough enough danger for this race, add in a few hot heads to make things worse.
March 5, 2036, Sonoran Baja Hunter-Tourist Rally Bivouac, Sonoran Desert, New Baja Republic
Frontloading the new death threats he received every morning made Trev’s day more efficient. He chuckled at the thought as he skimmed the text on the tablet, which awaited his biometric signature via a fingerprint. A frowning official sat at a long plastic table, tapping his fingers on the top.
Trev couldn’t blame him for looking annoyed. He felt for the poor guy. The stale air of the enrollment tent and the long lines would have gotten to him too if he had to sit in there all day.
Four small tables held the registration tablets, and four lines of participants snaked out of the tent. Most people stared at their phones as they waited for their turn. Some chatted with other people in line. Rough-looking men and women swept the others with stern looks, ready to start the event with psychological warfare.
This was the main site registration for the 2036 Sonoran Baja Hunter-Tourist Rally. Trev had read about the race for years and wanted to participate, even if it was outside his racing background and skill set.
The logistics of running a three-day rally event paired with monster hunting in the Sonoran Desert must have been staggering. He was happy that he only needed to worry about driving and killing monsters.
“A full waiver for the event organizers for any indemnity,” Trev quoted from the tablet, “related to participant death, dismemberment, along with any and all injuries, minor or otherwise.” He laughed. “That’s redundant, don’t you think? If you won’t get in trouble for getting us killed, why would you be in trouble for getting us hurt?”
“Hurry up and read and sign. We have a long line.” The official sighed. He shared a pained look with the officials at the other tables processing their participants.
“When it is practical and safe for relevant staff, the event organizers,” Trev continued, “will make a good-faith effort attempt to rescue participants if they cannot, for whatever reason, continue the race, but the event organizers and onsite staff offer no guarantees of successful retrieval or treatment, especially in incidents occurring in the presence of unculled monsters or armed criminals on the scene.
“Please note that for the purposes of this waiver, any superpower capable of harming a person or damaging equipment and vehicles is equivalent to a conventional weapon for determining if a threat is considered armed. There is no power level required for this clause.”
That made sense. Although some people wore them, the organizers didn’t require helmets since the injuries would not be their fault under New Baja Republic law. A race involving people fighting monsters inherently carried a risk of getting hurt. Despite that, Trev still planned to wear a helmet. He also had a secret solution that would save people in the event of a crash.
The official grunted. “Congrats, kid. You know how to read. Am I supposed to be impressed? I don’t have all day. Can we hurry it up with the signing, please?”
Trev killed the response that he was twenty-one and not a kid and went with his second instinct. “This is so broad that it can mean anything. It’s funny, is all. Can’t a man have a morning laugh?”
The official shrugged. “This isn’t an event for people who like it safe. It’s too late to back out now if you want your entry fee refunded. You should have read it all before you signed up for the rally.”
“Nah. I’m good.” Trev grinned. “I was excited to see it in print just before the race. The threats of death and dismemberment really bring it home. You know what I’m saying?”
The official sighed. “I wish you’d say you’d sign.”
Trev put his finger on the fingerprint scanner in the corner of the tablet. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to cut loose, and in this, I’m getting paid to cut loose against monsters. Damn! This is going to be fun.”
“I’m sure you’re the fastest driver ever and a real badass,” the official offered and rolled his eyes. He picked up a second tablet and handed it to a dangerous-looking man decked out in scars and an impractical number of chains. “Read through it all, please. A biometric signature is required. We can get a retinal scanner if you don’t have fingerprints due to injury or baseline mutation. If that’s a problem, we’ll discuss alternatives. Please be aware that the rally organization staff will not guarantee your ability to participate if your biometrics deviate too much from baseline human standards.”
Mr. Chains grunted and took the tablet. He glanced at the card hanging on the lanyard around Trev’s neck. “You’re a Wave Two driver?” His deep voice matched his image. “You sure that’s a good idea, kid? All the fast guys go straight through in Wave One, which means all the monsters go after Wave Two, pissed off because they couldn’t catch an easy meal. Rookies should stick to Wave Three and get a feel for things with fewer monsters. It gives you a taste of what the rally can be without getting you killed your first time out.”
“The whole point is, there are more monsters in Wave Two.” Trev shrugged. “A monster-hunting rally isn’t fun if you avoid all the monsters. Otherwise, I would have found a traditional rally to drive in.”
“Every year, rookies get killed thinking they’re hot shit. They think their weak-ass power will save ‘em from the worst monsters out there.” Mr. Chains ran his finger over a scar that ran across his forehead. “I got this one my first year. Trust me, kid, throwing a fireball or making plants strangle a man don’t mean much out in the Sonoran Desert. The Republic only allows this race because they don’t have enough hero teams to keep the monsters in check. Don’t kid yourself. It’s one step down from war.”
“They should be happy I’m here.” Trev shot him a merry grin. “I’ll clear out any monsters I see. My co-driver and I will cleanse the desert for the Republic.”
Two chains peeled off the man and undulated back and forth above him like metal snakes ready to strike. “What’s your power, kid?”
“Nothing in the rules says I have to tell anyone.”
The official cleared his throat. “Please note that brawling will get you a penalty. Killing will disqualify you and be reported to the Republic authorities for bounty consideration.” He delivered the warning with all the enthusiasm of a man who’d rather be elsewhere. He glanced at a uniformed man holding a rifle in the corner of the tent.
“We’re not fighting.” Trev held up his hands. “Just chatting. All friendly, me and Mr. Snake Chains.” He checked Mr. Chain’s lanyard. “Sorry, man. I’m driving in the trucks category.”
Mr. Chains’ face contorted. “What’s that got to do with anything? Why are you sorry, kid?”
“You’re in the cars category. I’m in trucks. I won’t be there to save you when the monsters eat you. Different times, you know?” Trev printed the last form and handed it to the official before waving at Mr. Chains. “Don’t die on me. Next year, race trucks, and we can place real bets against each other.”
Mr. Chains chuckled. “It takes more than attitude to survive and a hell of a lot more than attitude to win this race.”
“Good!” Trev departed the tent with a wave. “I’ve got more than attitude, plus this handsome face. It’d be disappointing if it was too easy.”
The dimness of the tent gave way to the bright, clear blue of the outside sky and the thick crowds of people walking and talking. The Sonoran Baja Hunter-Tourist Rally bivouac was a temporary tent city that popped up in the desert and moved with the race each day. They even had a field hospital and a food tent. Vendors offered everything a driver might need, like parts and fuel or batteries, depending on a vehicle’s power train. Almost every standard caliber and size of small arms ammunition was available for the violently inclined. Trev had spotted one vendor selling grenades and RPGs. A handful sold energy cells, though he hadn’t seen anybody carrying laser weapons.
Given the onsite price gouging, experienced and/or budget-conscious participants showed up with their own fuel, weapons, and ammo. That didn’t stop the vendors from making a huge profit each year. Not every rookie knew what they were getting into when they drove into the dangerous, less-controlled parts of the New Baja Republic. This territory stretched through what used to be the southwestern United States and parts of northern Mexico before the Big Change tore the world apart and reset human civilization.
Trev hadn’t lived in the Republic for long, and mostly in Tucson. He hadn’t even made it to the capital of San Diego. He had no sense of whether the new country reflected much of the older culture.
A woman sporting golden wings made of light floated above a pair of bikes, tilting her camera as she tried to get a picture of the two helmeted riders waving from below.
Trev bet her power didn’t need the wings. He’d run into many people who tried to make their power seem flashier and more spectacular than it was.
“The sun’s glinting too much,” she yelled.
One of the riders waved. “Just fly higher.”
The woman ascended. Her light wings didn’t flap, supporting Trev’s theory that they were for show. She turned her phone, took the pictures, and dropped toward the ground. Her movement stopped just before she landed, slowing to a gentle descent for the last few feet.
Moving further through the crowd, Trev spotted a scowling man wearing a bulletproof vest over a skintight black boost suit that covered everything up to his neck. The word SECURITY was emblazoned in bright yellow letters on the front of his vest, with SEGURIDAD written on the back. The man glared at the woman who’d been flying.
Having security with boost suits proved that the race’s organizers had deep pockets, which guaranteed the prize money. The expensive boost suits enhanced physical capabilities independent of a person’s power.
Trev was unarmed, but many in the crowd carried visible weapons, primarily pistols in belt or shoulder holsters. Sheathed blades were about as rare as water bottles. Rifles strapped over shoulders or backs were also common.
The occasional glow from someone’s skin hinted at the nature of their powers. Even unarmed, many of these people would be classified as armed and dangerous, according to the event’s rules. Nobody hung out in a monster-infested wilderness without some means of protection, technological or empowered.
A trio of robed, masked people passed him, and a furry tail peeked out from under one of the robes. They must have mutations that left them looking less than what passed for baseline human.
Trev, a fit, handsome young man with brown hair, didn’t stand out in any way. That made it easy to wander through the crowd unnoticed toward his truck and the white canvas canopy covering the metal table and chairs that were his team’s workspace.
He smiled as his truck came into view. The flat-faced old vehicle and its dented, modest trailer didn’t look as sexy as many cars or bikes participating in other categories. Still, the ten-ton beast and its massive wheels would get him and his co-driver through the Sonoran Desert without trouble, no matter how many monsters they encountered.
His smile disappeared. A small crowd had gathered on the side of the tent, blocking his view of his co-driver/mechanic, his best friend Jack.
Three scowling men in similar-style leather jackets surrounded Jack. They all wore gun belts, but their weapons remained holstered. That only gave Trev small comfort. One of the thugs poked Jack in the chest. Some people in the gathered crowd laughed.
Trev shook his head and made his way toward Jack. He didn’t need to hear what they were saying to understand the problem. Despite the coveralls, the goggles over Jack’s eyes, and the gloves concealing his clawlike nails, his outfit didn’t hide his green scaly skin or the long tail poking out of the back of his coveralls.
One of the thugs pushed Jack again. “Hey, freak, the race hasn’t started yet. You’re supposed to be out in the desert threatening us. I don’t get any points for killing a monster before the race.”
Jack’s long tongue flicked out. “Please leave.”
“Why should I listen to a freak?” the thug asked. He looked at the crowd with a grin. “This lizard thinks he can boss me around. Isn’t that hilarious?”
His buddies laughed. That annoyed Trev far less than the rest of the crowd chuckling. A man near the back of the crowd frowned and looked around for a moment before stepping away.
Trev shoved his way through the crowd, not bothering to offer apologies and meeting every frown with a death glare. That helped him pass through quickly. When the thug tried to shove Jack again, Trev lunged forward and caught his hand.
“That’s enough,” Trev narrowed his eyes. “You’re messing with my co-driver and mechanic. I don’t appreciate you trying to sabotage my race.”
The thug yanked his arm back. “You should keep your pets leashed if you don’t want people worried about them biting ‘em and giving ‘em rabies.”
“The only one here acting like an animal is you.” Trev stared at him. “Huh.”
“What, asshole?”
“I thought untreated syphilis made you look messed up before it fried your brain.”
The crowd laughed. Jack backed away from the table.
The thug silenced the crowd with a glare before scoffing at Trev. “My boss says we’ve got to keep things quiet until the race is over, so I don’t blame you for not knowing your place, boy. That doesn’t mean I’ve got extra patience. Watch what you say if you want to keep your face looking like a human’s and not a freak’s.”
“Nobody told you to come over to our space and be an asshole,” Trev shot back. “That’s on you.”
Wearing an evil grin, the man held his arm out sideways. An ice sword formed hilt-first in his hand.
“There we are.” Trev shook his head.
“You want to square up like a big man to protect your pet lizard? Fine, bitch. The rules say as long we don’t kill nobody, we’re golden.”
“You technically get a time penalty,” Jack offered in a near-whisper. He shrugged when the ice swordsman glared at him. “Well, you do. If you’re going to fight, you should do it with full awareness of what it might cost you.”
Trev nodded. “My buddy’s right. I’m here to race and kill monsters. If you’ve got so much energy, you should save it for out there.”
“You scared, bitch?”
“I’m only scared of hurting you so badly that they give me too big a time penalty to overcome.”
The swordsman sneered. “You got any real powers, or are you just another freak like your friend?” His gaze dipped. “Let me guess. You’re all scales and lizard under those clothes. You just have a normal face and hands. That’s almost worse than him.” He nodded at Jack. “At least that freak doesn’t hide what he is.”
Trev gritted his jaw. His hands tightened into fists.
“Don’t do it, Trev,” Jack cautioned. “He’s not worth it.”
Trev glared at the thug. “Hey, man, I know the mirror can be harsh, but you keep the dream alive. There’s somebody out there for everybody, even dumb syphilitic assholes like you.” He offered a huge smile. “You almost bring a tear to my eye. You’re an inspiration.”
The swordsman growled. “If I didn’t have to race, I’d gut you where you stand, you cocky little shit. This isn’t even about your freak pet anymore. It’s about you and me.”
Jack put his hand on Trev’s shoulder. “We need the money.”
“I won’t kill him. I promise.”
“Oh.” Jack nodded. “Feel free to kick him in the balls once for me.”
“Gotcha.”
One of the other thugs cast a nervous glance at the growing crowd. “It’s not worth it, Will. We need to stick to what the boss said. We’re not here to make trouble. I think somebody went to get Security.”
“I don’t care about Security. Don’t worry. I know the rules.” Will waved his sword. “I won’t kill the bitch. I’ll just make him look as ugly as his friend.”
Trev sighed and shook Jack’s hand off his shoulder, then motioned him to the truck. “This is about both of us now.” He cracked his knuckles and motioned for Will to attack. That way, he could claim self-defense. “Come on, Mirror Breaker. If you’re going to do it, do it. Otherwise, I’ve got tons to do before the race.”
“Yeah. They’re right. You’re not worth it.” Will scoffed and turned around. He lowered his sword before spinning and thrusting it at Trev’s face.
Is dealing with all these obstacles worth making a quick buck? That is if they survive. Find out what happens next on August 28th when Power and Attitude: The Hero Prophecy Book 1 is released. Until then head over to Amazon and pre-order today.
