The story:

Here goes. This is the submitted story as forth, and I update this as often as possible, k?
Here y'are!

Trixie
"Come on, Speed!" I yelled, as Speed sped one more time, past where I was, in the pits. It was only a practice, of course, but I was there, playing the dedicated girlfriend role. Sparky was beside me, holding the stopwatch, timing Speed's laps.

Speed wasn't the only driver left out there. Sure, he's dedicated, but others are just as dedicated. There were many drivers out there, circling the track, which was an oval circuit. Sparky had told me the names, but I didn't recognise many.

The one driver out there (aside, obviously, from Speed) that I knew, was Racer X, if I could say that I knew him - if anyone could say that. But he was out there, as usual. I smiled, as I watched Sparky click the stopwatch at the wrong time. The wrong time for Speed, that is. Sparky knew just what he was doing, even if it wasn't timing Speed. He was timing Racer X's laps. I turned away from the wall, and walked past Sparky.

"I'm going to find Spritle and Chim Chim." I told him. Sparky nodded. "And are Racer X's laps getting faster?"
Sparky looked at me as if I was crazy, then blushed. "Yes, they are" he told me quietly. I grinned, (Gotcha, Sparky!) and continued on my way.

"Spritle! Spritle..." I called out, looking for him. Spry was nowhere in sight. I sighed. This was getting remarkably regular, Spritle evading me at the racetrack. I caught sight of what looked like Spritle's cap, and broke into a run.
"Spritle Racer!" I exclaimed, exasperated with him.
Suddenly, I turned a corner just a little fast, and - WHACK - knocked into someone.
"Oww.." I muttered as I fell down. I closed my eyes for an instant, and then fluttered them open again.
"Oh!" I exclaimed. "Racer X!"
He gave me a hand up. I swayed a bit, but kept my balance.


Sparky
Okay, so I was timing Racer X's laps instead of Speed's. I've timed Speed so many times I could tell you what he was getting in my sleep. I mean, I love him like a brother and he's a terrific racer, but when you know someone that well....

Ah well. So I was timing Racer X. Big deal!

"I'm going to find Spritle and Chim Chim," she said. I was about to tell her where they were, but she continued. "Are Racer X's laps getting faster?"

I was flustered. There was nothing wrong with timing Racer X's laps, even if I was supposed to be timing Speed's.... But I started blushing and decided not to tell Trixie after all. Instead, I said, "Yes, they are."

I was trying to be cool about being caught. It wasn't working, so I went back to my timing. I looked around for the Shooting Star, Racer X's car, but it wasn't there. He must have finished while I was talking to Trixie. Now neither of us would get to see who he was under the mask!

Some other time, I thought. I started timing Speed again. He was doing pretty well, but not as well as Racer X had been. I grinned. "He'd probably go faster if Spritle and Chim Chim weren't in his trunk," I mused outloud, waving to Speed so he'd make it his last lap.

I stopped the watch and began to wander away, looking for Trixie. I had just turned a corner, to where I had a clear view of the seats around the track. One of them was filled by a man wearing all black, with a black beard and a hat that left his face covered by shadows.

Curious, I squinted to see if I recognised him. Now I could make out one of his eyes... It seemed to be yellow, with a scar running leangthwise above and below it. Unless someone had very careful aim, it would have had to run right through the scar, destroying his eye...

Destroying his eye....

"No! No, stop it!" I scream, squirming around helplessly in the large dentist- style chair. He's going to do something to me! I don't want him to do anything, I just want to go home!
He's coming towards me with a knife. I kick at him, but one of the people holds me down. He leans foward to do something with it, but I manage to pull one of my arms free. I reach up to grab his hand, and he's so startled he drops the knife!
I grab it before anyone can grab me, and lunge for the man who's kidnapped me. I manage to cut him with the knife, righ up one eye. He's bleeding like crazy, and grabbing his eye, and yelling.
Now I'm out of their grib and running for the door, but one of the tackles me! He knocks my head against the ground, and then something else bashes into it——

"Sparky!" Speed yelled, throwing the contents of a glass of water into my face. I took a deep breath, and glanced around. "What's wrong?"

"T-that m-man," I stuttered, pointing to where the man was sitting. But he's going.


Racer X
I was at the track today. Believe it or not, that's rather unusual for me if I'm not competing in a race. Interpol has a number of specialized tracks for their agents to practice at. Of course, they were built at my urging... I wasn't using them today, though. Today, I had to do work. Real work, for Interpol, I mean. Apparently there was a suspect who I was supposed to be trailing. That isn't very unusual. The unusual part about it is that I never found out who it was. All transmissions were cut halfway through my conversation with Chief. I was in New Zealand at the time, competing in a race, and Chief works at the main hq (headquarters) in Paris, but I had booked a flight back in under an hour. It's never good when transmissions are cut off when you work at Interpol.

When I arrived in Paris, it was worse than I had expected. I had been hoping for cut wires or at worst just a trashed office with some blood. But there wasn't anything. Absolutely nothing was left. I know that Chief wouldn't have just packed up and left without having someone inform me. I had to find out what had happened. The first thing I did was try to contact another Interpol agent, but no one was coming in on my radio and the computers which usually keep track of everyone's whereabouts were gone with all the rest of it. My one lead was the suspect I was supposed to be following. I had been given his last coordinates right before the radio went nuts and started picking up the Nicks game from New York (yeah, I know, it's really sensitive). Actually, I didn't even know if he was connected in any way, but I had nothing better to go on.

I managed to pick up his trail back in the states, and I caught up with him when he got to the track. I don't know why he stopped there, but he did. I decided that the best thing to do was make an apperence as Racer X. Speed was there. That's usually a sign that something's going to happen. His mechanic, Sparky, and his girlfriend, Trixie, were there also. Sparky was timing my laps instead of Speed's, though. I could see him clicking the timer when I went by instead of when the Mach 5 went by. It was actually a rather nice ego boost. That was when I saw the suspect. He had a long scar down his face that barely skipped over his eye. Even Interpol didn't know his real name, but he had several different aliases. Lucifer Ajaners was his current and most used one. The fact that Lucifer was one of the devil's names didn't escape me.

Sparky had stopped timing me and was talking to Trixie. I took the chance to pull over and get out of my car, unnoticed. Speed was busy roaring around the track. Just warm up laps, he's usually faster. Anyway, Trixie and Sparky had apparently left the area tehy'd been standing in. I walked around the outside of the track, accidently running into Trixie and knocking her down. I'm a little single-minded when I want to accomplish something so I guess I didn't notice her. I helped her up, apologized, and took off. I could feel her staring at my retreating form, but I didn't really care. I had to find the suspect. I came around a corner and saw Speed hovering over Sparky, holding a now empty glass of water. I stopped behind Speed, so neither of them had noticed me walking towards them.
"What happened?" I asked.
Speed spun around to face me and Sparky looked like he was about to faint.
"That's what I was trying to figure out," replied Speed. "I found Sparky lying here unconcious. I woke him up and he started stuttering about a man who was sitting in the bleachers."
I turned to look down at Sparky who was still lying on the ground with a shocked expression on his face. "Did the man have a long scar down one side of his face?" I asked. Sparky's eyes widened and the poor kid passed out again.
"I think you should take that as a yes," murmured Speed. I turned around to run towards my car. "Where are you going?" asked Speed.
"I need to go."
"Wait, you know who it was that scared Sparky! What's going on?"
"I don't know," I replied with more annoyance than I'd meant to show. "But I'm going to find out.
"I'm going with you!" Speed lurched to his feet to follow me.


Amanda Skye Emrys
Another day at the track, watching the action instead of being part of it. I watched Speed in the Mach 5 doing his warmup laps, getting the feel of the track, memorizing all the litle dips and turns that makes this layout unique. I knew the routine so well.
The masked Racer, in his Shooting Star wasn't taking the usual time to settle in. He drove like a man posessed, with a deathwish noone could dare collect.
I wanted to be out there with them. I could be, but Mr. Racer continued to tell me I wasn't prepared for the real life in racing. My living through the junior level preliminary races was more to luck and stubborness than skill and knowledge, he told me. He's the only one I would let talk to me like that. I'm ready-and even Pops couldn't convince me otherwise. I owe him my job though. And being a female in this buisness makes me vulnerable. I could quit Mifune motors-but who would hire me then?
The idling down of a motor warned me that one of the Racer's had pulled in for the time. I needed to concentrate more on what was happening here-or at the rate I was I would be the oldest female in racing - like maybe 50 years old!
The Shooting Star and the Mach 5 were both pulling in. The masked racer was heading in an opposite direction from Speed. Another day blawn. I got to my feet as I saw Speed break into a run. He shouted something that the wind tore past my ears. I looked around and Racer X was gone as well.
This whole idea gnawed at me. A racer's car was his life. You didn't jsut abandon them like this. ANd yet two of the best had done just that. It wasn't at all like Speed to neglect the Mach 5. It was this thought that brought me down from the stands and into the action at last. Even though it was still off track. While noone was in sight I knew the general direction the two had taken. I followed, and was nearly run over as Racer X and then Speed ripped past me. I opened my mouth to ask what was happening, but closed it.
"Amanda!" Sprytle Racer, the youngest hopped to get my attention "Can you come over to help us with Sparky? I think he's hurt!"
"Hurt?" I inquired startled. "Show me where."
There was a mess to greet me, as Speed's girlfriend was slowly administering care to Sparky the mechanical wonder boy. He looked pale and scared, but uninjured. Trixie looked rather glad to see me though.
"Did you see where Speed went?" she asked.
I nodded, looking over Sparky intently. He noticed my look and blushed, looking down. I could tell he didn't care for all the attention he was getting.
"Are you able to walk?"
"I sure hope so." he replied in his high thin voice. I gaave him a hand up and waited a moment before pulling back. He seemed staedy enough on his feet. I looked to Sprytle.
"Do you think you can see Sparky to a cot?"
The poor kid was probably bored out of his mind, he jumped at teh cahance to do anything. For a price. After I promised to get him some sour patch kids he agreed to play nurse to the wounded.
Trixie and I stood there awkwardly for a moment. I was afraid to ask and she wasn;t ready to tell what had just happened. I could see she was attached at the hip with Speed, that her thoughts were that way. But curiosity killed the cat, and I still had eight more lives to go.
:Is it too late to catch up do you think?" I asked quietly.

Pops
There I was sitting in the stands... ma' wanted me to look after Spritle and Chim Chim. I found it was impossable to look at Spritle and the race track at the same time so I just folded my arms and closed my eyes in confusion. I thought about how experenced Speed has become, I sopose he will some day be able to win races like me in my youth.... ahhh yes the glory days. just then my thoughts were interupted by my wife offering me a snow cone, I gladly excepted.

Just then I found that Sprtitle and his chimp friend were missing from their spots. I swallowed in anger and descust at the same time as I told Ma' Racer. she replied "I am shure their allright, they are probbly snooping around Sparky". I was still angry but I enjoyed the rainbow flavor snow cone so much I scrached my cowlick (back of my head), grinned, and forgot about it.

This enjoyable moment was shattered by comotion in the pits. I stormed down there to find that both Speed and Sparky were lying on the concrete floor. I shook violently at their shirt collars attempting to wake them up.


Speed
There are some days when I have to agree with Sparky: I must be some kind of weirdness magnet.

It's a pet concept of Spark's, and one of his favorite jokes. "Sure, Speed," he'll playfully laugh in that nasal voice. "Haven't you ever heard of human poltergeists? They're usually young guys under pressure, and face it -- you fit right into that risk group. Maybe when you stress out you warp the probability fields around you way out of whack. That's why bizarre stuff just explodes whenever you're around."

I don't know where he gets these ideas.

But no doubt about it, my magnet was in top working order today. I knew it as soon as I saw the sleek gold form of the Shooting Star glide onto the track. Instantaneously, every single driver out there could feel the collective wave of hostility rolling off three thousand agitated spectators. I hate to admit it, but the crowd's reaction was kind of understandable this time: Racer X wasn't a registered entrant, and his unexpected appearance probably only reinforced popular belief in a duplicitous agenda. Under normal circumstances I would have welcomed the challenge.

But now poor Sparky was lying on the tarmac, barely conscious after another one of his flashbacks. The last time he had one was about five years ago. It was a great relief for the whole family when it seemed that they had disappeared for good. For an attack to recur so abruptly... Racer X had admitted knowledge of whoever it was that scared Sparky, and now it was obvious he was getting ready to pull his usual disappearing act on me. I couldn't let that happen this time.

By now, we had reached the area Sparky had pointed to before he passed out. Pushing forward, I planted myself squarely in Racer X's path and did my best to assume an air of indignant defiance. Not easy, because even with my shoes on I just barely come up to his chest. He shook his head.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll turn back now," he frowned. "And take my advice: never abandon the Mach Five again. It deserves better than that."

"If it were just me involved, I might listen to you," I said. "But Sparky's past is tied up in this incident somehow, and you're the only ready link. If so much as the sight of that -- that whoever it was was enough to trigger a seizure in him, then..." I took a deep breath. "I *have* to come with you!"

Racer X eyed me coolly and folded his arms. "Forget it, Speed. I'm not Inspector Detector. Your `junior special assistant' badge doesn't carry any authority with me."

Ouch.

I must have really looked crushed, because he softened a bit. When he next spoke, it was without the brusque edge that I was so used to. "Speed," he said quietly, "you have a race to win. Your family and your team are counting on you to see it through."

That was true, in more ways than one. Things had been a little tight this month. I opened my mouth for a halfhearted protest, but stopped short as he turned his head and briefly glanced over his shoulder. Peering past him, I saw Trixie and Amanda dashing towards us.

Suddenly a leather-gloved hand gripped me firmly by the arm, and I was yanked forward forcefully. A voice, almost subliminal, whispered in my ear: "Where I'm going, you must not follow."

Then gray asphalt and blue sky inverted, and I gracelessly landed face down with my nose an inch away from the concrete steps of the bleachers. Not hard enough to break any bones, which he could have done quite easily. Just hard enough to wind me but good and chalk up another point for Racer X in the ongoing "let's-see-who-gets-the-drop-on-who-this-time" competition.

"Guess that makes it Racer X: 2; Speed Racer: 0," I said to myself. I felt two pairs of hands lift me into a sitting position, and a familiar phrase gave me the final push back into the here-and-now:

"Oh, Speed! Are you alright?"

Trixie had caught up to us at last. She was bending over me, concern filling her eyes. One of her bows had come undone in the rush. I instinctively reached up to brush the stray curl away from her face, but hastily drew back as I became aware of Amanda crouching at my other side.

"Uh-huh," I mumbled. Where's Racer X?"

"Real gone," replied Amanda, thumbing casually in the direction of the exits.

"Criminy!" I slammed a palm against the ground in frustration. "He knew everything, Trixie! He's carrying the key to Sparky's...Sparky's nightmares, and now it might be months before I see him again!"

Trixie gently took my hand. "Speed, Sparky's okay now. Spritle's looking after him."

"Heck, for a 20-ounce bag of Sour Patch Kids, he'd perform surgery on Sparky if it was necessary," Amanda added.

A blast from the circuit's klaxons interrupted our thoughts. "Your attention please! The Seahorse Plains Grand Prix will begin in exactly twenty minutes! All racers report to their starting positions!"

That was it. I was fresh out of leads. Resignedly brushing the grit off my jeans, I was about to stand up when I noticed something underneath one of the benches. Peeling off a glove, I used the tip of my finger to pick it up and bring it to eye level. It was a single postage stamp, emblazoned in black with the intricate design of a scowling devil on a blood-red background. The only other color on the stamp was an ugly necrotic yellow, which was used for the eyes of the figure and the writing. Coiled around the border in heavy gothic lettering were the words: "Principality of Auterpaup."

"Trixie, Amanda," I said, "we need to go."


Racer X
Speed can be so incredibly stubborn sometimes. I can understand that he just wants to help his friend, Sparky. The kid is like a brother to Speed. I guess I can't blame anyone but myself for that, though. Not that I think there's anything wrong with it, but Speed needs to run that race. He seems to forget that the Racer family isn't exactly making large sums of money off of Pops Motors. Most of their income comes from Speed's racing career. Don't ask me how I know about their income, I have access to these things. The fact was, no matter how he saw the situation, everyone, including myself, would be better off without him tagging along. He can be helpful, but he's a distraction because I always end up looking out for him. I tried to dissuade him, but, as I said, he can be incredibly stubborn at times.
I'm familiar with that trait of the Racer family. I have it, after all. I knew that as soon as Speed refused to take my advice once, he wasn't going to back down. He might say that he was going to, but he would anyway. I might have hit Speed a number of times in the past, but I don't like to, and I only do it when I need to. Unfortunately, this qualified as one of those times. He had just turned back towards his friends, and I took the chance to grab his arm, whisper a final warning, and knock the wind out of him. I was gone before he was even able to move his head. Hopefully, he won't be able to pick up my trail. I know that he will eventually, though. He always does.
I jumped over the railing and vaulted into the shooting star amidst a chorus of boos from the racing fans who'd already assembled for the soon to begin race. I revved the motor once and drove out like a hellcat. I suppose I should be immune to the opinions of the racing word by now, but I'm not. Don't think I'll ever be. And I know it's not going to change anytime in the near future. I could hear their voices changing to cheers as I left the stadium, and hoped that no one had noticed that I'd hit Speed. Even if no one saw me nearby, they'd all make the connection. Who else would hit the most loved racer in the entire world. OK, I admit it, I'm rather bitter about the deal that I've been cut in the racing world. I've been thinking of getting a dog. They love you no matter what. Although, maybe I simply ooze whatever it is that people don't like about me because of my job with Interpol and a dog would probably pick that up more than humans. Guess I'm alone. More so on this mission than any others. I don't even have Interpol backing me on this one.
I circled the stadium a number of times before I saw skid marks. I couldn't think of anyone who'd be in that much of a hurry to get out of there except for Ajaners. It was just another hunch, but I'd been right so far on this mission, so I hooked a sharp right out of the parking lot and went in the direction of the skids. There was a long expanse of highway ahead of me, and very few people driving, so I pulled onto the shoulder and really let the Shooting Star fly. It was probably murder on her shocks, but that's one of the things I'll need to deal with later. After about ten minutes of driving, a dark car came into sight. It wasn't until that point that I realized I was more than a little conspicuous. Too late. I pulled up closer to the car in front of me, hoping that it was Ajaners. You couldn't see into the tinted windows, but just looking at the car told me what I had to know. It was one of those built to order cars that only really rich guys with dangerous jobs but. (note: this is a real car, I saw a show about them on the Discovery Channel or TLC once.) If you looked closely, you could see all the places where little things could drop out to mess up any cars that were tailing. Also, even though I couldn't see in, I knew that there was a laser sighting gun which you operated by looking through the back window. There're all sorts of gadgets that those cars have that I needed to worry about. Hopefully Ajaners was alone and wouldn't be able to use all of them. I sped up to try and rear end him. Then, almost imperceptibly, the license plate began to slide up.
"Oh crap," I murmured.

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