Wow, so many people were in this, I'll just throw you towards this journal so you know who's who. http://www.furaffinity.net/journal/4712643/
Anyhow, I'm breaking this story into two parts, and the second part will be much longer and actually include the race. But for now, this is what happens before. I did my best for these characters, but if I screwed up somewhere, feel free to ask. Their apparel was decided one what they had in the pictures the racers gave me; if it didn't work, I had to do what I could. Not everyone may have a large part as of yet, but everyone soon will.
Now, let's get to work on finishing Hellfire...
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The wander’s life can be a lonely one. You travel the Earth, but with no one to show it to. It’s a lonely life, and my only stalworth companion was my craft, the Featherweight II. But what do I do when she comes down and burns?
I was passing through Italy when I suddenly heard this loud crack come from one of my engines. The FWII started veering the the left- one engine was smoking.
'Come on old girl, I know you need replacement parts, but don’t do this to me!’ I shouted. I narrowly avoided a large cliff face as I swung it away and into open ground. I had been heading back to my mechanic in Egypt to find parts, but it seems I may not get there...
'Hold out for me, girl!’ I shouted, pulling her up. The bottom of her hull screeched against the rocks below. I’m going to have to try to land her.
'Featherweight two, I promise I’ll get you upgrades when we reach Stewart’s, so don’t falter now!’ I shouted. The very limited AI built into the FWII wasn’t going to listen. We dropped about ten feet and skidded through dirt, tossing it high into the air. There were loud creaks and groans as parts buckled under the pressure, and the glass on the cockpit shattered. When she finally halted, she was a mess. The Featherweight II’s left engine had come totally off, bouncing away from the ship herself. There were dents and gashes in the hull everywhere, and the passenger gun was completely missing. The main engine’s exhaust pipe was twisted too.
I got out, cut and bruised, but alive.
'Old girl, what am I going to do with you?’ I said to the mangled racing ship that had smashed into that large boulder.
I looked around. The area I had landed in was once a city, but it was hit hard. No one had tried to rebuild it afterwards. The skeleton of a skyscraper hung over the gulch I was in, shadowing it. Hell, this wasn’t a gulch, but a crater blown by some large missile. This place was a mess.
I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around to spot an old looking anthro; looked like he was a rat of some sort. He wore some dirty clothes, one with a logo I couldn’t recognize. He also had a battered leather cap over his head, similar to the ones old human pilots used to use.
'Hello? Who are you?’ I asked. The rat looked awe-struck. Then I realized the logo on his shirt was one from one of the original HCGPs, before the Revolution.
'Uh- Francesco, sir!’ He said. Oh, he’s a fan... 'You’re one of the racers in the Last HCGP- Neon, yeah?’ He asked.
'That’s right. But I feel a bit odd about the fact that you could recognize that by... what, exactly?’ I asked.
'The way you tried to pull out of your crash, the looks of the craft, lots of things, really.’ He said. 'Are you injured?’
I checked myself. 'Just a few cuts and bruises. Safety systems in crafts like my old Featherweight II were great.’ I replied. There was an explosion from behind me- one of the engines had ignited.
'Shit!’ I cried, shielding my face form the flames. I saw Francesco run towards a tin shack built into the crater wall and come back out with a fire extinguisher. He doused the fire.
'You ever thought about putting a fire extinguisher in your craft?’ Francesco asked.
'I did- It was behind my seat, where it may have taken awhile to get out...’ I said.
'Next time, make it easier to grab, eh?’ He said. 'Shall we go inside?’
I agreed, and we walked in. This guy was an old fan of the HCGP and other races, for sure. The walls were lined with items from the good days of racing- old shirts with the logos, little toys made for just display, and even an old winners trophy from some bygone race, years ago.
'Do you like it? It’s my own collection.’ He said, smiling. I cautiously nodded, picking up a rusty metal toy of the Featherweight one. I knew these things were made, but that was pre-revolution time.
'So, we need money to fix her. You’re in luck, I can rebuild her, but we need parts. That engine’s going to need replacement, and so are several of the hull plates. I think the main exhaust port’s beyond repair but not replacement as well...’
'And the cost of those repairs?’ I asked.
'About 2000 of your American dollars. Not my price; I’d be happy to repair the Featherweight II for free- of course, I don’t have the parts. And they cost about 2000.’
'So, where would I get the money?’ I asked.
'You’re in luck. In Venice, a race will be beginning in a week. It’s for any type of wheeled vehicle, and third place gets 2000.’
'But how many people are in it, and where would I get a vehicle?’ I asked.
'Actually, it’s only a twelve person race. The racers come from far and wide, but they either have to have a good car or good credentials. You’re one of the last surviving racers of the HCGP-’
'Wait, last?!’ I shouted, confused.
'I’ve heard that many of your fellow racers were either killed in the Week-Long-War, the Revolution, or by various causes in the time between the two.’ Francesco said. I sat down at a rickety, messy table. 'Hungry? I’ve got canned pasta, canned pasta, and... er, canned pasta. Forget I said anything, I’ll just make some...’ He continued, walking into another room- the kitchen, I guess.
'Damn, that could just as well be true. So, how am I going to get a vehicle for this race?’ I asked.
'That’s simple. There should be a map on the table of the local area- see if you can find a mechanic’s shop on there. Should be rather large.’ He replied. I did manage to find the mechanic’s shop, a mere ten miles from here. The map was a printed picture taken from satellite, so I could see the large field of scrap and cars surrounding it.
'There’s still satellites up?’ I asked.
‘ADF sent several up only a year or so ago.’ Francesco replied.
'So, I get a car from there?’
'Yes, they’re cheap. A car directly from there can cost as little as ten dollars- if you can make it run. To suit it for racing means, especially for a race like the prix, you may spend a good 400 dollars or so. Affordable for you.’ Francesco said, bringing out two bowls of his pasta. They had little sauce, but thankfully at least had forks. 'Dig in, friend.’
We ate. The meal wasn’t the greatest, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?
'So, Neon; you need a new name for here. Your name is too well known, and may cause you to be targeted. Do you know Italian?’ Francesco asked.
'Hardly, Francesco.’ I said.
'Your new name should be in Italian. How about Italian for Wandering Bird? So, Errante Uccello.’
'That’s rather long, don’t you think?’ I replied.
'Erran for short.’
I thought about it for a second. It may be needed, and hell, it actually sounded pretty cool. 'Alright, I’ll go by it. For now.’ I said. I rolled up the map after I finished my food. 'Maybe I should get going? I want to enter this race.’ I said. Francesco looked positively disappointed that I was going.
'Must you go so soon?’ He asked.
'Afraid so. I want a chance for the vehicle to be designed and a chance to meet the racers, maybe explore the town. Keep an eye on the old girl, I’ll be back in about two weeks.’ I said. I stepped outside and walked to the wreck of the FWII. I kept some survival gear in a back trunk- a backpack, a pistol, a first-aid kit, some water, and some dried food. Mostly a lot of dried peaches, should fix that later. I packed it all and slung the backpack over my shoulders. This is going to be a long walk...

After a day of walking, I was in site of the mechanic’s shop. I had to bandage a leg due to a small fall that I wasn’t able to get out of in time, and I was limping slightly. Thankfully, that pistol I had didn’t need to be used.
There were the loud hisses and clanks of someone working on machines coming from the garage. The garage had concrete floors and once connected to an old roadway, which only part of remained. Unlike the rest of the area, the wrecks of cars were missing- obviously used for something. I limped in, and the mechanic pulled herself from under a rusty pickup truck. She was slim and not really muscular, and looked like she had seen some fighting. Her overalls and stained T-shirt were somewhat torn, at one point. Both were heavily patched. She was a lioness, from what I could tell. About 5 and a half feet. She got up and flung off a glove, raising her hand-paw in greeting.
‘Hi! Name’s Antonia. You a new customer?’ She asked, with a slight local accent.
‘I intend to be. Name’s N-Erran. And I’m the the market for a new racing vehicle.’ I replied.
‘You’re racing in the prix, aren’t you?’ She asked, pulling off her other glove. ‘I could tell by the outfit.’
'Yeah.’ I replied. 'I’m in it be-’ She clamped her paw over my beak.
'Hush, bird. Everyone has their reasons for racing, no need to tell me yours.’ Antonia said. 'So, the Prix. You’ll need a car that can deal with all type of terrain and still have solid acceleration on the streets. What do you reckon?’
'A buggy of some sort. Probably a dune buggy.’ I replied.
'A dune buggy!’ Antonia shouted. 'Of course! Give it a big engine, suspension, and tires, and she’ll withstand all types of things! I’ll go get one now, wait here for a moment.’ Antonia ran out the door and around the left. I sat down on a crate, looking around. The truck that was being worked on was missing its wheels, and a stack of four was nearby. It engine was quite large, and thus the hood didn’t fit and was removed. It looked like it was a racing vehicle, perhaps for one of my opponents. There were two other vehicles in the large room, and both of them were rusty hulks.
I looked outside when I heard a loud, harsh engine noise. Antonia was driving an aged dune buggy with no windshield, hood, left front light, and all of its rims. She parked it in the garage, and then jumped out.
‘So, how do ya want it?’ She asked.
‘Full racing makeover, all missing parts replaced, new paint job, and much larger suspension, and a better engine. How much is that?’ I asked.
‘Pricey. 400 should do it.’ She said. I agreed, and fished some cash from my pocket; she took it, and began working.

A day later, my buggy was almost done. The glass and hood was replaced, and the engine was completely new and much larger, creating a large mound in the hood. The new paint job was dark blue with golden racing stripes, and the suspension was almost done. I was sitting o a crate, reading a local newspaper, trying to catch up on the local area’s events.
'You know, you remind me of someone. A bird that came here several months before you. He was a hawk, and acted all care-free and happy like you; hell you two act very similar- but I did learn that he had a very harsh past, in the end. He acted so happy to cover those days. He was smart, and he always carried around a revolver with him at all times. But when he got attacked, he would eliminate the attackers like that-’ Antonia snapped her fingers. '...He was one of the oddest people I had ever met. He stayed here for a long time as I worked on an armored vehicle for He did leave a note, though. He had military, and had to fight through hordes of creatures to get to safety, and he even saw his whole world die around him. He had no where to go or anyone to go to, except a friend who he didn’t even know was on Earth or not. I always wondered if he found him... You remind me of him. If you don’t mind, what happened in your past, Erran?’ Antonia asked.
'Many things, sad things, horrible things. Blame the Revolution and various other events.’ I replied.
'Ah.’ Antonia said. She got up after wielding on a plate to the buggy. 'It’s done.’ She tossed me the keys, and I leapt into the buggy.
'Well, I best get moving. Thanks for the help!’ I shouted.
'Just doing my job. I may be in town at the beginning of the race, keep an eye out. Best of luck, you lost bird.’ She replied as I drove off. To the race.

A few hours later, Venice was in my sights- the start of the Prix. Venice was one of the most changed cities in the world, and also one of the happiest. They were actually having a party when I came in.
The city was well repaired; not like it had been hit hard during the Revolution anyhow. I drove in somewhat stuck in the crowds- it was a festive of some sort. I stopped on the curb, quite confused. A few people looked upon my buggy and seemed to get even happier.
'Are you in the race?’ A young lizard asked. I nodded.
'Yeah, but where do you sign up?’ I asked.
'Follow the signs.’ He said, smiling. I looked around- sure enough, there were some paper signs tacked to the street posts, pointing the way to the race sign up. I drove slowly.
The buildings around seemed almost new, but made of brick, mortar, and sweat. They had a hell of a rustic feeling to them, and gave the city atmosphere. The festival helped too.
I drove slowly over an old wooden bridge, admiring the canals. They still had the gondola services, a boat with some passengers went under the bridge just as I went over. They were having a good time for sure.
I stopped my buggy in a small parking lot that was full of odd vehicles, 11 in all. They varied from Hummers to dirtbikes to veritable tanks- my competition was going to be tough. I parked my buggy next to a Trophy Truck with a black and red paint job. It was the last spot too...
I walked over to an automated stall- one of the stalls you usually sign up for races in. I did what was needed- and then got to see the fact that I started in last place. Shit. Could be worse.
I walked away, signed up. Free room and everything! It had printed out a voucher for a stay at a nearby inn, and the list of the racers’ names and the order they started in. They were ordered much like this:
1. Dorado
2. Noir
3. Teran
4. Zak
5. Emily
6. “Rose”
7. Bix
8. Myst
9. Shammrock
10. Tango
11. Monty
Wait, Zak...? Where have I heard that before?

I was walking around a market type area, when I saw a quite familiar face. Didn’t know him well, but I helped save his life during the Revolution.
'What the- Zak, hey!’ I shouted to the White-tailed Mongoose. He spun around, almost dropping the things he was looking at. He ran over.
'Holy shit! And we finally meet again! How you been doing, Neon?’ He asked. I noticed he was wearing some dirtbike gear under a jacket.
'Great, but I’m going by the name Erran now. I would of expected you being in the security around here, if there was any. Why are you here?’ I said.
'Would you believe after the Revolution, I got into racing? Seemed like a fun thing to do. Also, we got kind a split up rather abruptly, I kind of felt like I owed you something. And before you ask, I’m driving the newer dirtbike. Not the antique.’ Zak stated.
'An antique doesn’t seem like you, anyways.’ I responded.
'so, why the hell are you in a little race like this with that big old craft of yours? Where is it, anyway?’
'She crash, hard. I intend to win this and use the cash for the repairs.’ I replied.
'Well, best of luck to you, my friend. So, I’ve heard that there’s going to be a racer’s dinner at the hotel we’re all staying at- and its about time too...’ Zak said, looking at the setting sun. 'Shall we head that way?’
'Yes, please.’ I replied. We started walking.
'So, I’ve heard that these racers are quite the variety.’ I said as we walked.
'Quite the variety? These guys are the craziest bunch of people I’ve ever seen, and the some! You know then new genetic modifications that are around these days?’
‘Hardly.’ I replied, shrugging.
'You know they can create dragons now, right? Not with all the fire and brimstone, but the body shape’s the same. There’s actually two of them in the race.’ Zak said. I was surprised.
'They can sure do some things with genetics these days.’ I replied.
'Well, the Revolution was based around it. So it’s going to be advanced, of course. But the new species only came around a few months ago, and their working on others. Other creatures of legend.’ Zak said, smiling. 'I’m not going to be messing around with those myself, I like my species as it is. What about you, N-er, Erran?’
'Hardly. I’ve been like this for so many years, even longer than I was human, I’ve taken to it. Now, where is this place?’ I asked. Zak nodded to a rectangular, brick building that we had stopped at. There was a fox at the door, and he asked if we were some of the racers. We were, and he let us in.
The room that we entered was dominated by a large round, table that had some food dishes on it, plus a few books and various papers. But the people sitting around the table were what caught my eye. There were quite the few, so I’ll start from the left of the two open seats.
First was a muscular horse- he was wearing a rugged, rather inconspicuous pair of jeans and a thin jacket. He spoke with a determination, one would say he had ulterior motives.
Next to him was a golden haired dog of some sort. A Retriever? Not sure. He was wearing some white camo shorts and a simple T-shirt, along with some headphones around his neck. He looked the rather show-offish type.
After the dog was... another dog-like animal, a fox. She was wearing a simple, almost oriental inspired shirt and blue pants, and carried a katana on her back. She looked a bit annoyed with the group...
To the fox’s right a red bird was sitting. I wanted to say a hawk, but I’m not sure; I mean, the feathers were quite bright red. He wore a similar racing outfit to mine, but in red and gold. He was in the discussion quite a lot, more than the others.
After him was one of the Dragons. They were quite large, at least a foot taller than the other racers. This one had a red and green pattern to his scales, plus a blue frill on his head and some horns. He wore baggy black pants with symbol on the right leg that I couldn’t quite see. He seemed to be bragging about his vehicle, not noticing the fact that he kept on knocking the red bird in the head, lightly, with his constantly moving wings.
Next to him was a grey wolf, rather young looking and with a bright look in his eyes. He sometimes interrupted the others when they were speaking.
Nearby, a moth, of all creatures sat. She had quite the old color combo- most of her body was pink-ish, but her limbs were yellow, and her wings were striped with her two colors. She wore a vintage racer’s suit that seemed to be a museum piece, just modified for her. She had a kind face, and let the others talk.
The next racer was also a dragon, this one with a black and red pattern to his scales, plus horns and a red frill. He wore a torn orange T-shirt and some grey pants. The ends of his wings were grey, and so was the underside of his tail. He had his arm over a white wolf next to him- the wolf had a few blue markings and one big scar over his eye, and he wore camo pants and a tank top. From the way I could tell the two talked to each other, they were lovers. Well, the Greeks said that love between two men was the highest form of it, and they won a good few battles. Perhaps that’ll help them in the race.
The last racer was a Bearded Vulture, and he wore a suit made the same way as mine, but in a black, white, and red fashion. He was the quite and silent type, from what I could tell.
Zak and I sat down. 'As I said, the racers here are quite varied.’ He said, chuckling.
'No kidding.’ I replied.
'So, you the new racer?’ The red bird asked from across the table.
'Yeah.’ I replied, grabbing myself a bowl of fruit salad. Macaws eat a lot of fruit, you know. 'Name’s Erran. Glad to meet you all.’ I said.
'Shall we introduce ourselves, guys? We’ve got a full group!’ The golden dog said to the others. He turned to me. 'Most call me Shamrock. Feel free to call me that too- just don’t call me a sham. Now then guys, continue the chain!’ Shamrock said, smiling. The fox next to him muttered something.
‘Wait, don't forget me. Name's Bix Savior, Erran.' The horse said.
'Emily.’ She said rather annoyed. Obviously not the friendly type.
'Name’s Dorado, Erran. Hope you have skills.’ The red bird said.
'Just call me Tango Zulu, or just Tango. I’ve gotten used to that name.’ The red and green dragon said.
'Name’s Myst. With a Y- don’t forget that bit.’ The grey wolf said.
‘My name’s Rochelle, but you can call me Rose.’ The moth continued.
'I usually go by Noir, And this is Teran. Good to meet you, Erran.’ The red and black dragon said.
'Hey.’ Teran added.
‘And I’m Monty. Don’t mind me...’ The Vulture said.
'So, the race is in... what, three days?’ I asked.
'Two, actually.’ Teran said, smiling. 'You all prepared?’
'As far as I can be, yeah.’ I replied, shrugging.
'I can tell you have some stiff competition.’ Zak said to me. I nodded as everyone went back to their discussion. Some of the racers were talking about why they came, but others weren’t saying why. The dragon, Noir, had been in a spot of financial trouble and wanted to get back money in a fun way alongside his lover. Both of them used their own vehicle- Noir to a heavily armored muscle car, Teran to a jeep modified for racing. Both large vehicles that could stand a beating in the upcoming race.
Rose sat back and mentioned that she may just have a chance with winning the race because of her dirtbike; it was a very aged relic from the 1950's. Tango quickly said that the bike may not hold out for long, but it had apparently been with Rose for a very long time, and the only part she’s had to replace was a tire.
Shamrock’s story was interesting; he was looking for some cash, and thought he hit gold when he found an ancient freighter smashed up against the rocks on the western shoreline- most of the boxes had rotten away or been raided years ago, but he was lucky to find a vintage 1969 Camero in one of them; the crate had been sealed. The Camero still had gas in the tank, too! He managed to drive it back up to the mainland, and then discovered that there was this race, and that may be his chance for the cash. The others must have told their reasons for coming here before I entered the hall. Or they didn’t want to.

Later that night, we all departed to the inn we were staying at. Due to the fact that I had entered last, I was roomed with the two racers, Monty and Tango. The room was lit by a few bare bulbs, but at least there were three beds. Of course, they were single-sized ones, and my six foot one height made my foot-talons stick right off the edge. Tango had even more of a problem with his wings. None of us were asleep.
'Can’t sleep?’ Monty asked me.
'Hardly. I haven’t done a race like this in many, many years...’ I replied.
'Oh? You mean one with next to no rules?’ The vulture asked.
'Nah, not that. I haven’t done a restricted no-ram race in about just as long. I’m used to large, fast hovercrafts, the racing sort.’ I said.
'Oh, you’re one of those guys. I thought hovercraft racing was a dead sport.’
'No, I’ve seen them before-’ Tango said.
'Hey, I’m talking to Erran.’ Monty interrupted.
'Sorry...’ Tango whispered.
'Er- anyhow, there aren’t many racers left, only because the crafts have become collector’s items due to there being no producers of them anymore, and it’s a very dangerous way to race anyhow. Anthros have been killed from the crashes before, you know.’
'So, why do you do it...?’ Monty asked.
'The thrill, the speed, and the fun. Also, it’s a hell of a lot faster paced than this. Night, you two. We’re going to need sleep.’ I said.
Tango yawned. 'Yeah, you’re right. Night, guys.’ He said.
'Night.’ Monty said.
'G’night.’ I said. I then fell into a slumber.

The next day, I got to see everyone’s vehicles- well, I figured out who’s was who’s. Dorado was doing something with the engine of his red and gold painted jeep- by god, the engine was easy muscle car sized, and the hood had to be modified for it.
Noir’s was an interesting vehicle- a muscle car, but the outer chassis had been replaced with thick plate metal, and the windshield had a cage over it. It was complete with roll bars, shielding, the lot. Give it guns, and that vehicle was a war machine. Noir was riveting in some bolts on one of the plates.
Teran was right alongside, helping Noir. Teran’s vehicle was another jeep, but this one was blue and faster, a bit more streamlined. Originally made for racing, unlike Dorado’s; which was modified for it.
Zak showed me his vehicle- an all red and rather expensive dirtbike. It had a rather geometric shape, and wasn’t very conventional. Just like him.
The fox, Emily was cleaning off some dirt from her very expensive sportscar; it was made by some unknown company I couldn’t recognize. It was Swedish, though.
Rose, the moth, was the other racer with a dirtbike. Hers was a very old one, but it seemed to be in a fine shape. She was off somewhere, but Zak told me that the dirtbike was hers. Thing’s probably worth a fortune.
The horse, Bix, was off somewhere else too, but his car was here. It was also a car not really made for the terrain we’ll be hitting on this race, but it was fast. Looked almost like a rally car of sorts...
Myst drove a simple, black painted hummer pickup. Surprisingly, it wasn’t anything special compared to the other vehicles.
Shamrock had a Camero-type vehicle, also an expensive relic. His was right from the factory, seemingly. It was in good shape, for such and old car.
Tango’s vehicle was custom built, and it surprised me the most of any of them. It somewhat resembled a truck, but its body was emblazed with a red and green detailing, and the whole thing was rather solid, the only windows being in the unpainted doors and the front windshield. It had several air intakes and exhausts, and there were large, unpainted panels on the back. I discovered those accessed the engine, and the front had a counterweight inside. Tango had his family crest on the hood- a swirly, pronged red and green thing.
Monty was in the back, working on the engine of his large trophy truck. The truck was mostly red, but the bottom was white, and black stripes crossed the sides.
I walked over to my buggy, wondering if there was anything I could do with it. Emily had walked up behind me.
'Nice buggy. Hope you can handle my speed and car weight, bird.’ She said, before walking off. She rams a lot, doesn’t she? Oh, fun...
I realized that Amelia’s tune up for racing was very thorough. The engine had a massive amount of horsepower, and apparently a very good fuel efficency. Wouldn’t Bix’s vehicle have a lot of horse power because he’s a horse? I laughed out loud as I examined my engine. I can make myself laugh, can’t I?
I closed the hood, and I had nothing to do but wait for the race day. Tomorrow, we roll. Rock and Roll? Eh, maybe.
I walked off, in preparations for tomorrow.