(Photo Credit: JMR)
The post-match interviews were always more exhausting than the actual races. Ghost Plasma wondered why they were consistently surprised by that fact, as they rolled off towards Spirit and Dragon’s Egg took to the microphone.
Spirit, looking particularly cheerful, was quick to roll over and embrace them. “There’s the marble of the hour! Great work out there, champ.”
”You know me, Spirit,” the racer responded, smirking. “Back-to-back medals are kind of my thing these days.”
”Well, one of them,” Spirit replied, their tone turning slightly more serious. “Just remember not to get too caught up in that and forget about your other back-to-back reputation.”
Ghost Plasma frowned slightly, and Spirit knew them well enough to know that they’d hit home. The regular DNFs were a sensitive point, not that Ghost Plasma liked to let that on. They didn’t want to ruin the mood, though, and quickly got back to smiling. ”Doesn’t matter right now though – you won! And you’re still in the running for the title!”
”Mathematically speaking, anyway,” Ghost Plasma chuckled.
”Oh, for goodness sake Plaz, are you still banging on about that?” Dragon’s Egg rolled over, smiling. The three glanced at each other, before bursting out laughing.
Ghost Plasma was the first to recover. “Ah, who am I kidding? I’ve never fought a lead this big back from you, Eggsy.”
Dragon’s Egg smiled. “Very true. I’d be better off keeping my eyes closer behind me if I want to win the championship.”
”Your second championship,” Ghost Plasma reminded them.
Dragon’s Egg smiled, but Ghost Plasma could tell their friend was uncomfortable. “Eggsy, there’s nobody in the field who deserves a second title more than you right now, and you know it.”
Dragon’s Egg smiled back at Ghost Plasma, more genuine this time. “I know you think so. Come on, let’s go find Pearl before they get themself caught up in another tabloid headline with El Capitan.”
If there was one good thing about being in the B-League today, it was escaping the terrible sand conditions of the A-League race. Still, a post-race shower was non-negotiable, even if they were dusted with sand rather than covered with it. That, and a meal. Which would be easier if they hadn’t rolled straight out of their room, into the corridor, and into El Capitan.
True to a movie cliche, the hallway wasn’t big enough for both of them. El Capitan had stopped in front of the door to the lobby and there was no way of getting past them without a confrontation.
It didn’t have to come to that – yet.
“Evening, Pearl. Fine race today.” El Capitan always had an air of confidence about them, but right now they sounded downright smug. “Always a little ahead of me, aren’t you?”
Not that they have anything to be smug about, Big Pearl thought, keeping a straight face and leaving the rhetorical question unanswered. The space between them filled with tense silence, but they were not about to let El Capitan play mind games with them.
“Crazy Cat’s Eye got your tongue? We may be fighting for the top, but there’s no reason you can’t have a friendly conversation with me.”
“Just let me pass,” replied Big Pearl, rolling their eyes. El Capitan grimaced, their ice-cool facade faltering briefly.
“You don’t act like this with Dragon’s Egg or Ghost Plasma, do you?”
Something snapped in Big Pearl. They drew close to El Capitan, using the element of surprise to back them against the wall. Two could play at this game. “The past is the past. We’re fighting for a title now. Let’s get that straight.”
Annoyed but sufficiently intimidated, El Capitan drew back, unblocking the door. Big Pearl didn’t wait to roll out of it, hoping to forget the encounter. But what El Capitan said next sent a shiver through their glass.
“Fine. But when someone has a confident attitude like yours… iIt only makes it more fun to grind their dreams to dust.”
Usually, a race win meant you got to have a nice evening – or even just a pleasant conversation – with the athletes on the lower rungs of the podium. But when they were Big Pearl and El Capitan, and the B-League standings looked the way they did, that was never going to be the case. Initially Wisp of Darkness had thought themself lucky to find Phoenix similarly unoccupied;- now they weren’t so sure.
“…because it’s completely silly, utterly embarrassing, even, for both me and them, and I’m half inclined to burn this place down. You agree, don’t you?”
“Mhm,” Wisp of Darkness mumbled, nodding tepidly along. Truthfully they had long lost track of what tangent Phoenix had launched into most recently, picking their deflated croissant to shreds on their plate to stop them losing their mind.
It was still all the encouragement Phoenix needed. “I’ll complain first, obviously. Something about me doesn’t gel with the tracks – or maybe it’s the starting gate. Perhaps both.”
Oh, they’re still bemoaning their bad season. As they had been since they’d arrived at the cafe. “But you just won a bronze medal.”
Phoenix huffed. “After seven races of humiliation. This was supposed to be my comeback season! My rebirth! Now look at it,” they whimpered. “It’s in tatters.”
WOD glanced down at their croissant. “Not knocking eternal angst here, but you’re not the only one not getting what they want. I missed qualifying for the season to Pollo by two milliseconds. Two! I didn’t even know what a millisecond was until I started racing.”
“So we both have problems,” Phoenix concluded. “Your point is?”
“I dunno. Try and appreciate what doesn’t suck?”
Phoenix began to tap the table as Wisp of Darkness watched, sneaking croissant shreds into their mouth while the gears turned in Phoenix’s head. Then something clicked, and they smiled, existentially reassured.
“Well, if nothing else… Superball probably won’t make the podium this year.”
Credits
- Writers: GhostDM, Millim
- Copyeditors/Editors: Evolution, Phoenix
- Photo Credits: Jelle’s Marble Runs
- Reference: Marble Rally S7: Round 8 | Jelle’s Marble Runs
- Release: 03/08/2024
Project Marblearth 