8661/I want to ride my bicycle

I want to ride my bicycle
Date of Scene:	13 November 2021
Location:	Bike rally grounds in rural New Jersey.
Synopsis:	Rally goes bad. Heroes go good. Dinah exhausts John. And not in the good way.
Cast of Characters:	Dinah Lance, John Stewart

---

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Let's go out and do something fun."

Those were Dinah's first words after her breakfast coffee, when the zombie-like, fatigued eyes of her turned into the sparkling sapphires most knew her for. Lounging--slouching, really--in the dining room chair, the remnants of her high-protein (how many fried eggs with bacon can one woman eat!?) breakfast before her, her third coffee cupped in her hands for slower sipping now, she looks at John with eyes that he's come to know mean mischief.

"There's a bike rally. Just outside the city. A rural 'stadium' of sorts where they've done crazy, crazy things to a farmer's field and invite people to race through it."

Her love affair with motorcycles is by now well-noted, given the sheer number of hours the pair have conversed and had fun while she had a disassembled bike around her being lovingly cleaned and tuned.

"C'mon, it'll be fun! Hicks, unhealthy food, and loud roaring bikes doing crazy things on a crazier track."

John Stewart has posed:
As she tries to convince him, John stares at her, then, he raises an amused brow at her from his kitchen table, "You realize I'm learning far more about motorcycles than I've ever needed to with you, right?" He looks down to her outfit then, "you're probably every bike amateurs dream: Gorgeous, can disassemble an engine in record time, and is patient enough with her man when he buys a hybrid motorcycle to get around without drawing attention."

His eyes go back up to her own sparkling sapphires, then he sighs. "Sure, why not. What's the worst that can happen with my ring on standby? Never let it be said I don't indulge my girlfriend."

Dinah Lance has posed:
And there it is. The pinball-game-scoring-the-million-point-jump smile.

"Great! You won't regret this! Rallies like this are a hoot and a holler. Most fun you can have without being undressed."

Her brain comes up with the notion of a bare-naked rally, then dismisses it. Unsafe.

"And I'll forgive you the hybrid. At least it's two wheels, right?" She looks John over slyly. "Let's ride out there on your bike, OK?"

Wait, going long distance on someone else's bike? As a passenger!? Who is she and what did she do with the real Dinah?!

John Stewart has posed:
He's a decent judge of character, and offering to ride on HIS hybrid is either innuendo... or she has a surprise in store for him.

Yes, those are the only two options with her. Because.

Then, he speaks carefully, "Sure... I'll play along." John informs her with a suspicious glint on his eyes, "Let me get my stuff and I'll meet you. I told the garage staff you have access as a guest to my space, by the way."

He heads into the condo bedroom. "Don't make me regret it."

Dinah Lance has posed:
Well, it wasn't innuendo. The trip there was just a comfortable trip, Dinah's arms wrapped around John's waist, helmeted cheek (in civvy garb she obeys that law) pressed against his back. Over the helmet mics and speakers just the usual nattering of people on a road trip. Comments about wildlife. Traffic. That one diner that time that served the greatest pie EVER. How to be courteous to big rig drivers. That sudden stench of manure and how it came out of nowhere. These kinds of things.

Finally they find themselves at the gates of a place with a rickety, hand-painted sign announcing itself the HUDSUN (sic) COUNTY INTERNATIONAL BIKE RALLY. The place is teeming with people, very few of them urbanites, and most of them staring at the fancy, "alien" bike.

"We're here!" Dinah crows as they come up to the ticket hutch, gate across the roadway. From behind she rustles around in her pockets and pulls something out that John can't see from the angle and flashes it at the guy in the booth. The man nods, smiling, saying, "Nice to see you, Miss. Hope you enjoy the day!" The gate lifts and John can enter.

John Stewart has posed:
"Do you have a pass to every rally everywhere?" John asks to Dinah as he looks over the hutch briefly, then starts to bring his motorcycle inside. "Because of course you do." John jokes as he brings them in.

Say what you will about John's skillsets... he's learning how to drive these things pretty well since he returned from training in space.

What an odd time to be alive; humans going across the galaxy is just another tuesday now.

"Where am I going, sweetheart?" John asks.

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Not every rally, no," Dinah says with a laugh. She interrupts the train of thought with a gesture. "We're going to that building over there, marked 17. Good place to park your bike there."

Something about her demeanour, even through the helmet comms and from behind suggests she's enjoying herself WAY too much.

"Just the ones I'm competing in," she continues. "I like coming to these and showing people how bike riding is supposed to work."

A few things are starting to add up. Like why she wanted to ride in with John instead of her own bike. The bike that is standing in the middle of a work area in hanger 17, apparently having been delivered overnight, along with her full mechanic's kit and a kit bag suspiciously sized for, well, a full motocross jumpsuit, helmet, and other tools of the trade.

"If you want to place any bets, here's a hot tip, loverboy: never bet against the blonde."

She squeezes his waist as his bike purrs up to her own.

"It's a losing bet."

John Stewart has posed:
He just /stares/ at that bike as he pulls in and hits the stand. Then, he reaches down with a hand to squeeze at one or her own affectionately, before he stands up, "I don't usually gamble with money." He informs her. "But I'm getting the feeling that'd be a bad idea in general around you." He brings up her right hand for an effectionate kiss to it, before he steps away, moving over to her own motorcycle. "So, what's on your list today?" John asks.

She has a plan for this, he can tell... but he's content to let her inform him on her own timetable, it seems.

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Well, I'm going to win the first round which means we're clear to the quarter-finals, then I'm in races to the end until I collect my trophy." Her eyes sweep over the collection of bikes and riders as she dismounts (gathering more than a few stares from the other riders, the mechanics, passing strangers, ... "So just indulge me for the first race and then you and I can wander the fairway and have fun with the carnival scams. I think you need to win me a giant panda plushie. Hope you're good at throwing basketballs."

Ah, yes. The fairground basketball tosses that are carefully sized and angled to make it almost impossible to sink one shot, not to mention the five in a row you need for the panda.

"Of course there's the unhealthy lunch: breaded and deep-fried meats, breaded and deep-fried vegetables, breaded and deep-fried bread, breaded and deep-fried candy bars, all washed down with breaded and deep-fried soda."

She strides over to the kit bag and pulls out a full-leather jumpsuit, a pair of boots that look like they belong on the feet of bad guys in a cheesy SF flick, and a pair of gloves that look like they might be fully bullet-proof. Looking around she frowns and shrugs. "John, could you cover me with your coat while I change? I mean I'm not stripping all the way down, but I don't want to distract people working on running engines."

John Stewart has posed:
Of course, John is dressed for winter; Black trenchcoat with a black outfit underneath, black combat boots just barely visible under it.

As she inspects those around her, John listens, then, at the /very/ end. Snorts. "I got in a lot of practice with basketball on tour, doesn't mean I want to embarrass myself in front of my girl." Still, there's a slightly indulgant tone to his voice. Is he considering it? "If you want the carnie experience though, I'm open to that."

He walks over to her then and nods, "What's the circuit here?" He asks as he pulls off his trenchcoat in front of her and bring it up as a cover in front... eyes still on her.

Now, the only one she's giving a show to is John. "Seems like a lot of people here."

Dinah Lance has posed:
Matter-of-factly, Dinah strips down to her underthings--sporty bra and tight panties that descend the thighs--before forcing her with practiced violence into the leather jumpsuit that seems to have been selected to be just about a half-size too small.

This she turns into a "private dancer" show for him, grinning.

Finally encased in leather, she gets into the massive buckled boots before giving John a hug and a peck on his cheek.

"It's a crazy one," she finally replies. "They have an evil genius or something making the course. Changes every year. Every year we get an info pack with the layout and pictures of the traps. And traps is the right word. This is the kind of course that's going to separate the riders from the wannabes before you turn the second corner."

From the kit bag she pulls a manila envelope and spreads out a big course plan: convoluted and filled to the brim with twists, turns, rises, drops, and water obstacles, alongside the usual fence jumps and other such crowd-pleasing fare that's trivial for the riders but looks really showy.

"It's kind of like racing through Manhattan in rush hour, really," she says, referencing one of her worse habits (albeit only when on duty), "but a bit more dangerous. For them, I mean. The hard one is this curve here. It's going to filter out the real riders from the playschool ones."

She points to a tight left curve that pulls a full 270 degrees before a rapid 90 degree right to take the course parallel to the entrance. "The bastard who laid out the course gave it a bank. In the wrong direction. Anybody who can't do a precision drift on a bike in mud is going to land in the pond. If schadenfreude is your thing, make sure you get a good look at the pond."

John Stewart has posed:
His eyes show his appreciation for the 'show', even if it's more of Dinah's usual teasing. There's an interest in his eyes that she recognizes by now, though he doesn't act on it.

At least until she hugs and gives him a kiss on the cheek. His hands to to her waist as he hugs her back, squeezing her to him with his heavily muscles arms. It's actually a bit hard to get away from him for a moment, before he releases her and let's her go to her kit bag.

As she lays out the course, he seems to be immediately in his element. A side effect of his Architect mind?

After he finishes listening and goes over the plans himself, John gives a small whistle, "This looks like something I'd cook up in my college days while I was high." A pause, "Yeah, I did some testing during those days." Another pausde, "Found out I could make some real mazes while I was 'daydreaming'." Then, he looks at the pond, "so this is a stunt race?" John asks, curious.

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Well on paper it's a straight-up race, but you're going to have to stunt to get through it," Dinah says, cocksure and laughing. "I mean this hill alone here, you're going to have to hit it at speed and if you've got enough momentum to get up, you're grabbing sky." She pauses, musing at the picture attached to that obstacle. "I figure I'll hit it hard enough to do a forward somersault just to be showy..."

Shaking her head, she continues, "So the goal is to be first across the line, just like any race, but if you're going to cross that line you're going to be stunting. Full-speed negative-bank drifts. Jumps. The bastard even put in a slide where you can slip under an obstacle or you can take the long way around and lose. I love this place! Every year it gets changed and every year it's crazy."

The PA system starts an announcement in the infamous Tannoy style of incomprehensibility.

"First race is starting in twenty. I'd ask you to wish me luck, but I don't need it. Maybe in the semis I'll start needing it."

John Stewart has posed:
"So it's a stunt race." John confirms, before he looks over to the drivers... inspecting then and their motorcycles, "I've seen you on that thing. I don't think you need luck unless that screw you over on the track." John informs her a bit matter of factly.

Then, as the PA goes off, he listens, then softly nods.

Instead of answering her last statement, his right hand goes out to the back of Dinah's head and he pulls her in for a rough and passionate kiss; his own version of 'luck'? More like with her private show she got him a bit wound up for her.

By the time John finishes, about a half minute has gone by, "Go get em, girl. You're better than most of the riders I've ever met. You have this."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"I am the best, yes," the cocky Dinah says after the kiss. Putting on a bit more of a show for him as she strides to her bike, hip sway pronounced, she mounts the bike, fires it up, brings it to roaring life before heading out to the track.

The race itself is, as expected, a slaughterhouse of inexperienced drivers. The various early filtres in the track take out the people who bit of more than they could chew, skill-wise, and Dinah's own speciality--weaving through obstacles at high speed--pulls her to the lead position that nobody else can follow. Two-wheeled drifts (with or without leg guidance at need), casual leaps over obstacles, and ...

The big hill. The hill she hits with harrowing speed that sees her shocks bottom out in the initial rise. This she climbs with such speed she sails into the air for two lazy forward somersaults before coming down the other side. Showy, and risky in terms of winning because it gives the people chasing her time to catch up, but the risk is mitigated by the insanity of her closing run, sliding under the barrier through the muck and popping out the otherside upright and going.

Not everybody who tries that manages it, forcing the rest to go the long way around and leaving Dinah in first by a wide margin.

Mud-smeared, grinning that grin she gets when adrenaline is pumping--half-feral, half-carnal, it seems--she struts her way back to John, pushing the bike alongside and into the garage, before threatening to hug him while covered in mud.

"Told you. First race didn't need luck. That was FUN!"

One of the riders who spilled at the first filter turn, winding up in the pond, glowers her way for a moment before sighing and walking across with a more conciliatory expression, hand extended.

"Good run there, chickadee. How have I never heard of you?"

John Stewart has posed:
He watches impassively. He's not the adrenaline junky that Dinah is, but the fact that he's still intently watching her throughout the race shows both his support and his interest in her riding.

When she comes back, she's greeted by a smiling John, who takes the hug without issue when he closes up his trenchcoat against the mud. He can wash that without an issue later, and he's here as his girlfriends +1.

Probably also helps that he has a Power Ring, and can just get rid of it the next time he walks into the bathroom.

As the rider walks up to them, John has an arm around Dinah's waist a bit possessively. It's not all the way around by any means, but even the new man can see the way the hand on her hip is positioned as if saying 'mine.'.

John doesn't answer, instead, his sunglass covered eyes glance to Dinah, letting her speak for herself, but she can see the raised brow in question underneath those sunglasses.

Dinah Lance has posed:
"I don't do the circuit," Dinah says, melting against John's side as a signal boost. His. "I just dabble, really. I've got a day job that kinda prevents me from going around the country in races."

Yes, something about flowers makes them a bit high maintenance to just drop and travel around for months on end.

"Here, next time you need some flowers, drop by Sherwood Florist and I'll make sure you get a 15 percent discount."

The card that materializes in her hand gets quickly mud-stained, but is extended to the guy nonetheless.

"Sweet ride, by the way. Is that a Vortex set I heard? Sweet chain system. I've got Renthal C291 because, well, I'm a creature of habit, but those Vortex sprockets and chains sounded sweet."

A subtle squeeze of John's waist and she starts moving to the door.

"Gotta get some food in me after burning all that adrenaline. Don't forget about the flowers."

John Stewart has posed:
"Don't let her fool you; she's in these things for the thrill." John tells the other man as his hands are redirected into trenchcoat pockets. Is he embarrassed by the Power Ring? Not by any means... but he /is/ trying to just have a nice day with the girlfriend, supporting her in a hobby she clearly adores.

He's here for her... and a bit for himself to get used to this new world of motorcycling racing.

As she walks away, John nods, "I'll be right with you." He walks over to the nearby bathrooms and heads into a stall... at which point he brings up his right hand, closes his fist, and activates a field over himself to self-clean, the debris being auto-dematerialized by the Power Ring amping up an anniliation field for the mud.

No need to clog up the plumbing, after all.

Replacing his hands in his pockets, he leaves and heads out the same door Dinah left to join her.

Dinah Lance has posed:
When John comes out, he finds Dinah over by a washing station getting the worst of the mud (the clumpy parts) off of her suit with handfuls of paper towel and a hose. As he emerges she waves cheerily and heads up to him. "They've got giant turkey legs!" she crows. "That's perfect for lunch! Alongside the grilled corn and a caramel apple for dessert!"

Quite a difference between what she said she was coming for and what she's getting, isn't it?

"So how 'bout we eat and then you go win me the panda!"

John Stewart has posed:
"You know." John informs her, "You could have just asked for a wipe down from me." Tone amused, he nonetheless looks towards the food booths. "my latest contract has me pretty decent in money, so we can splurge a bit." He looks to Dinah, "No promises on the Panda, but the rest sounds good.

Dinah Lance has posed:
"What!? Lose the mud of honour!?" Dinah scoffs. "This is what makes everybody know I'm one of the competitors!" You know. Because the number vest, the jumpsuit, and the biker boots aren't enough.

Then she shuts up. Mostly. Because food and speech aren't really good combinations. Not that this stops her from trying.

Still, the meal progresses in (relative) silence as she devours the gigantic turkey limb. "I must seem like a pig to you when I eat," she says after the leg is carefully stripped of all edible content. "It's just that that thing I do takes a lot of energy and ... well ... I get that energy from food."

She leans back on the bench of the picnic table and sighs contentedly. "That felt good. Time to win a panda, then we can wait for the quarters."

Her eyes take in John. "Thanks for being here," she adds, voice softer, less bombastic. "It means a lot to me that you'd put up with boredom on my behalf."

John Stewart has posed:
"Mud of honor." John states, flatly. Then, he mutters, "No accounting for taste," under his breath as he eats his own corn and chicken while she devours her own.

As she speaks to him, he shakes his head, "When you're military, you learn to eat quick, because you never know if you're going to be deployed in the middle of a meal. You deal with the essentials /quick/ so that recreation is the only thing you interrupt." John explains, before he looks to her, "it's not that boring. I'm learning as I go." He waves a dismissive hand, "I don't even pretend I'm good at motorcycles as you are. I just got into them when I came back to get from point A to B without having to use my ring all the time. I'm never gonna be as good as you at this thing, and I'm fine with that. I have too much going on to press the issue."

Then, he stands, moves around to her side of the table, and wraps his arm around her waist again as he starts to head for the prize booths, "Let's see if my throwing arm got any better." John quips.

Dinah Lance has posed:
One of the more astonishing things that Dinah pulls off is the sudden, unexpected transition from badass to girly-girl. And here she is, mud-stained clothing from a reckless run through the races, now acting like any of the fairground belles attached to the arms of their menfolk, listening, laughing, and generally just being there by his side.

And, of course, eyeing the giant panda plushy as they approach the basketball throw game. The rigged one.

"You win me the panda," she purrs, pressing her cheek to John's chest, "and I make it worth your while tonight."

Beat.

"Well, I'd probably do that anyway, but ... still. I'll ... try to make it more special, even."

She steps aside as they approach, giving John plenty of room to throw at need. And carefully standing BEHIND him so she's not a distracting influence.

"Go John go!" she cheers with mirth in her voice. "Win the panda!"

In the meantime, with the first heat winding down, the staff out in the track are preparing it for the quarter-finals, leveling, clearing, and otherwise making safe the facilities. And in a hidden control booth, a figure slips in through the door, turns on all the video surveillance equipment the room is filled with, and starts turning on equipment. Deep under the ground, pipes start to fill with substances. Electricity starts to flow, warming up motors and servos.

The deadly race is getting made ready.

John Stewart has posed:
As John moves up to the booth, something odd happens. Dinah is the only one who can see it from her angle... but the telltale green glow of Oan energy fills his eyes behind the sunglasses... and the shades themselves are specially made to cover up that glow, it seems... because she can tell she's the only one who can see it. He's using the Power Ring for something.

Then, his arms come up, his posture sets, and he waits a moment... before launching the basketball...

...To a perfect shot.

"Still got it." John smugly says, Dinah right next to him.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah claps and squeals, acting fully the girly-girl-girlfriend routine, even as she nudges John knowingly in the ribs. "That was great!" she enthuses as the carnie stares before deciding with a shrug that it must be beginner's luck. "Four more like that and I get my panda!"

That elicits a smirk from the carnie. Nobody gets five in a row. That's almost, but not quite, mathematically impossible. They tuned it that way. Why it would be a one in a billion!

"So are you glad we came?"

The final results of the first heat start getting announced, the scoreboard showing the list of people advancing to the quarters. "Time's ticking, loverboy. Let's get that panda before I go back to the meatgrinder."

John Stewart has posed:
Then, he lands another... and another.

Another. A final Another.

Each time, John makes a show of repositioning 'just so' for the man. "I did a lot of basketball in the marines." John namedrops, making a subtle threat he won't be screwed with to the booth attendant.

He might have outrigged the game, but John has no interest in a whining scam artist who got conned.

Then, he leans over and gives Dinah a kiss on the lips, "One plushie, to go."

Dinah Lance has posed:
And ... that's it. One of the competitors. An ex-marine. Plenty of witnesses who saw him score. The carnie, despite clearly being unenthused at the notion, feigns a congratulatory smile whose teeth are just too firmly placed against each other. "Congratulations!" he says behind clenched teeth. "You won the big prize!"

A prize that as he's handing it gets grabbed by Dinah, barely larger than the plushie, and hugged with squealing glee through its plastic wrapper.

"My hero!" she says, playfully batting her eyelashes at John. "Now let's get this back to the garage and check over the bike to make sure it's ready for the quarters."

Beat.

"And if there's time left over, maybe a bit of play time."

John Stewart has posed:
He leans in to whisper to her as he hugs her, "Already feeling frisky? It isn't even night yet." John playfully teases her.

Then, he moves to the side, once against possessively grabbing around her waist as they head to the garage, "Do you even have anyplace for us to be private around here?" John asks as they go.

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Only the portas and ... ugh ... no way!" Dinah says, disappointment in her voice. "We'll have to put this off for after I win the trophy."

Securing the panda in her mechanic bay, she instead sits cross-legged next to her bike and starts carefully cleaning and checking components, chatting idly.

"The first heat was the scrubs," she says. "The people unaccustomed to this place and its crazy designs. It's going to get progressively tougher for me to win as the quarters, semis, and finals go. Eight racing in the quarters, four in the semis, and then one on one in the final. This is going to go fast, so you won't be too bored for too long."

A quick leap and grasp at John's neck, legs wrapping around hips to keep her there, and Dinah's in John's face. With her face. For quite a long time. Tasting of turkey and caramel and femininity. While smelling of grease and gasolne.

"Don't need privacy for kissing, do we?" she murmurs.

John Stewart has posed:
"I could make something for us, but it'd stick out." John offers as she works on her bike. He stands there next to her as she works, seeming genuinely interested in her work; learning on the go to maintain his own motorcycle?

Then, she leaps onto him out of nowhere. He saw it coming, at least... and when she lands, both hands to go her ass; both to support, and to cop a feel. "Not at all."

One of those hands goes to the back of her head as she stays there, pulling her into a passionate makeout session in the garage, the other hand on her ass more than enough for the former military man to keep her up; she can feel the muscles against her back taut as her lips are claimed, tongue trying to dance with her own.

Dinah Lance has posed:
OK, maybe some kinds of kissing needs privacy, but Dinah doesn't seem to mind, settling comfortably in John's strong grasp and exploring his mouth with hers. Passers-by look, then look away. Except some pervy types who just snap pictures for Instagram or Snapchat or such.

Announcements put an end to the kiss and, reluctantly, Dinah lowers herself and makes a wry face. "Gotta win a race, loverboy," she says, grabbing her helmet and mounting her bike. "Keep a bookmark here, though. I got plans."

And with that she wends her way to the starting gate. The Tannoy blares. The crowd goes wild. The countdown begins. The red lights move down, through yellow, to green. The bikes start down the course, jockying for position around the first bend

And then all Hell breaks loose.

Three metre walls of flame surround the course. A pole at the axis of the first turn pushes out of the dirt, sprouting a large scythe that cuts into the last rider, knocking him to the ground, bleeding profusely with life-threatening injuries. The crowd is shocked briefly into silence. Then the screaming begins.

John Stewart has posed:
Ok, there's traps, then there's /this/.

John is already standing up from his position in the stands, and the material of his outfit suddenly transforms as his Green Lantern uniform replaces the civilian uniform. Surrounded by his green flight field and with Green glowing eyes, John takes off from the stands into the sky, in full view of the entire stadium, his hand already aiming his Power Ring at that scythe. A trash compactor made of Green energy surrounds it and starts to compact it, even as he flies directly for the down rider.

Landing, those green eyes look right for him, "I'm going to pick you up now and get you to safety, don't panic." John tells the rider gently, even as his Power Ring breaks the offending trap.

The flames will have to be dealt with next.

Dinah Lance has posed:
The riders, focused on the race, don't notice the loss of one of their own behind them, though the flames do get noticed.

And dismissed as a gimmick.

Until, that is, a phalanx of long spears pops out of the ground in front of the seven remaining riders, spears the first two riders (one of whom is, naturally, Dinah) manage to dodge, but the next to fail, getting impaled in the gut. The final three riders are far enough back to spill: getting injured by the crash as they tangle together, but not horribly wounded.

Dinah, stopping in her tracks, back wheel lifting from the force of her braking, stops and surveys the scene. She then spins her back wheel to return to where the impaled riders are.

"You'll be OK," she says with calm reassurance she's not feeling as she surveys the damage. "We'll get you help soon."

Fruitlessly she tries to break the shafts of the spears with just her hand, accomplishing nothing more than bruising it.

John Stewart has posed:
Or that.

Suddenly, John brings up his Power Ring, and his voice is amplified across the track by sonic sound manipulation, "THE RACE IS RIGGED WITH LETHAL TRAPS, IF YOU ARE STILL DRIVING, STOP IMMEDIATELY. THIS IS NOT A JOKE."

With that done, John finishes with the scythe, before he aims his ring at the downed man bleeding out and surrounds him with a stabilizing field, the field being shifted to help with the bleeding while John starts flying over to the group at the spears... appearing near instantly before he constructs a chainsaw and starts to cut each spear down to the root to take them out of play.

"Get them together. I can fly them to the hospital and be back within a minute." John looks around, to the other riders, "assuming these assholes actually listen."

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah nods, slipping into action girl mode quickly and starts to collect the tangled mess that were the three riders who spilled together, assisting in extrication. The last driver still on his bike sits staring, mouth agape, trying to process what's going on around him.

The Tannoy booms. With clarity that does not typically get paired with that brand's reputation.

"BUSYBODIES ARE SPOILING MY DREAM COURSE!" the voice calls out. "WE CAN'T HAVE THAT! SINCE YOU WON'T PLAY BY THE RULES, I'LL HAVE TO SEND OUT THE ENFORCERS!"

One of the camera boxes used to project the events of the race onto a big screen so all the audience can watch opens up and starts disgording Roomba-style robots with comically large wheels. Comical, that is, until the ease with which the Roombas from Hell spill across the landscape makes itself known, equally at home even when flipped, a flip only causing them to pause for a few seconds before continuing.

The Roombas from Hell with built-in guns that start taking potshots near the group of dismounted riders.

"QUICK, EVERYBODY ON YOUR BIKES AND SPLIT UP!" That's Dinah, calling out to the riders. She, for her own part, makes a bee line for her own bike which she mounts, brings up to a roar and starts riding.

Straight at the oncoming horde of small, killer ground drones.

John Stewart has posed:
Staying to help might cost the injured their lives, but he can at least do a fly-by.

Pulling his passenger over to the injured, John adds them to the passenger bubble, then immediately takes back off into the sky... before flying right over the horde of bots.

Slowing down just enough to intercept the group, John aims his ring downwards, and globules of Green energy launch out of the ring as the passenger bubble keeps up with him. He launches four of them in a general area, before he suddenly turns and flies off towards the nearest hospital, disappearing from sight immediately as he accelerates hard.

mentally, John overlays a map of the city over his eyes, filtering for hospitals... and adjusts his course, heading for the nearest one.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Black Canary had lectured Rave at length on why you need to learn to fight without your powers. And every point she made was, naturally, valid, the voice of experience speaking.

That doesn't mean she likes it.

Having registered at the race as Dinah Lance, not as Black Canary, she knew she couldn't openly use her Cry. The risk of being caught on camera was too high, and then the link between Dinah Laurel Lance and Black Canary would be open and obvious. No, she's going to have to do this the hard, slow way. And the problem is, the slower it goes, the more chance for injury or death.

Quite the conundrum.

Dinah heads straight for the oncoming horde of gun-toting ground drones, jinking and jumping unexpectedly and (barely) keeping ahead of the drones' targeting systems as a result. She reaches the front line of them and, with a quick pull on the handlebars, paired with a strong tap of gas, wheelies over top of them and starts ... driving. On top.

Her grinding back wheel skidding over the bodies manages to rip of wheels where the weight of her and her bike aren't enough to just flat-out kill the drones. The former are still live and able to fire, but being unable to aim they can only, at best, hit a target foolish enough to move in front of them. Sadly the progress is slow: killing deathbots turns out to be difficult. Almost as if the inventor of them didn't want them to die.

Four green explosions blossom, then, reduce her workload significantly. Those closest to the points of impact are just turned into steel wool. A bit further out is the scrap. The next wave are just thrown into the air violently before hitting the ground, many of those in rough shape (several of them disabled entirely). In a single fell swoop, John's bombs wiped out 2/3 to 3/4 of the deadly little bots.

The rest scatter, however, making it harder for Dinah to hunt them down as they go after different targets from the surviving, uninjured bikers who are speeding off away from each other.

John Stewart has posed:
The group are deposited in front of the hospital, and John's voice booms again, "I have several people who need the ER here." With that, John takes off again, just as hard going to top speed in atmosphere to get back to the stadium.

Without having to worry about injured humans riding along, John has no need to worry about landing... and land he does...

Going at top speed right into a group of drones, like a human bomb.

That's definitely going to leave a crater... but he did want to get back as soon as possible...

Dinah Lance has posed:
John's fast, but the hospital was far away, especially when having to be gentle with injured human cargo. His shock and awe return does leave a crater (and the scattered parts of a few dozen robots), but the field is now crawling with the rest, all separated as they go hunting.

One drone closes in on a weaker rider and pauses to orient, about ready to fire...

Several other drones appear to have prioritized Dinah as a threat and are attempting to coral her into a dead end so they can shred her...

...OK, so that doesn't work. Being a priority target doesn't mean the same thing as being unable to avoid. She does the kung fu wall-walk thing, only with her bike: riding up a too-steep embankment and kicking with her feet to send her bike flipping backward...

...and away from the crowd of them. Except...

...two bots, concealed from her point of view, are lined up and about to fire.

It seems John has a choice: save the weak rider or save the girlfriend.

John Stewart has posed:
Then there's the third option; do both at once. John is not limited to one construct at a time, and is a Green Lantern veteran.

Aiming his ring high, two streams of Green energy suddenly flow from him as he grits his teeth for the long distance constructs taxing his Willpower.

One stream forms into a shield which scoops up the rider. The other gives Dinah a shielded on-ramp which sends her his way.

He's gonna feel this in the morning.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah catches the ambush just in time to be able to do nothing to protect herself from it beyond desperately grounding herself in the hopes the bullets fly overhead.

Only to find her bike on its side and sliding into the air along a green ramp that the bullets from the robots spang against without touching her.

While still sliding, she slithers on the ramp, her thighs grabbing the bike as one solid kick boots it upright and she's riding again, along the proffered ramp.

"Took you long enough!" she teases as she gets in earshot. Then, more seriously, "How are they?"

Beat.

"How are you?" she asks, spotting the sign of stress in his face.

John Stewart has posed:
It's one thing to construct platforms that long distance. It's another to have high energy projectiles constantly raining onto them, forcing him to reinforce both at once to keep them stable.

By the time Dinah is over near him, sweat is visible.

By the time the constructs disappear, John drops to the ground like a puppet with it's string cut, visibly exhausted, though not passed out. Yet. Her only response is a groan: Apparently constructing sturdy constructs that far is a major taxation on his body.

The rider is in the crater at least.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Well ... shit.

Quickly checking that John isn't injured, Dinah pauses to take stake.

Fact: There's a lot of robots left.

Fact: They're beginning to close in on the remaining riders.

Fact: If they're not stopped soon, there will be more injuries and maybe deaths.

Fact: They're showing signs of if not direct control, target guidance.

Conclusion: They have to be stopped, and the only way to stop them all is destroy their guidance.

"Be back soon, loverboy," she says, briefly kissing John while he lies exhausted. "If I do this right, it all stops. If I do it wrong ..."

She shrugs.

"Well, that's why they call it an adventure, right?"

And with that she's off, biking straight for the place the robots came out of.

John Stewart has posed:
It takes a few seconds for John to get a semblance of energy back.. and when he does, he peeks out of the crater and asseses things.

If nothing else, he can keep those robots busy and deal with them. Concussive blasts need minimal exertion, and those riders need help now.

Getting back to his feet, John reactivates his flight field and starts heading towards the riders that need immediate help, aiming his ring to fire concussive blasts at the robots.

If he can't destroy them, he can at least keep them away.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah, as is her wont, drives like a reckless bat out of Hell straight at the camera tower whose base released the wave of robots.

"Entrance is a bit small for me, there, loverboy!" she calls out, hoping John can hear her in time, because she's not slowing down an iota. "If you can slice off the useless top part, I'm guessing there's a tunnel or tank or something they came through underneath that I can go through."

It would be so much easier if she could use her Cry.

Her bike races pell-mell to the tower as she braces for impact, just in case.

John Stewart has posed:
It was just supposed to be a /nice day out with the girlfriend/.

Now, he's pushing himself further than he usually does... and when he sees the size different himself, he does the only thing that he can do with the short amount of time he has: He constructs a battering ram around himself, and flies at top speed right through the top of where Dinah is driving.

Normally, he'd also have more control over his speed... but he's only just keeping the Power Ring going with his Willpower, so he keeps going just a littlr further than he intended.... probably going out the other end.

Dinah Lance has posed:
A bit higher than she's have liked, but beggars and choosers don't mix. Unlike metaphors.

Dinah takes a slight side trip toward a patch of dirt with a steeper grade up to make a jump that would have won her the race simply on sheer guts and style. A jump in which she flips the bike backward such that she's hanging upside-down right over the hole the knocked-off tower head left behind.

And then she risks it.

The Cry.

Reasoning that most of the noise will be underground and confused with the (hopefully) destructive chain reaction she wants to start, she releases her cry from her throat, straight down into the source of the robots. Voice-straining noise magnifies to unbearable levels and ...

... deep within the ground something ignites. The fuel lines feeding the flame wall rupture, spewing fuel all over the sparking electrical power lines that were torn by spalling rock. The camera tower turns into a volcano, filling every nook and cranny and tunnel and conduit with powerful flames that destroy anything in their wake.

Behind Dinah as she tries to get her bike to land safely a massive gout of flame causes a huge burst of air, blowing her trajectory and sending her into a helpless fall to the uneven ground below.

John Stewart has posed:
A volcano that erupts right underneath John, the blast has him lose control of his flight and he starts to lose concentration, the green field around him winking out as he takes his second major hit in minutes....

Then, he realizes he's going right for Dinah, and with a last effort, he reactivates his shield as he grabs her... and turns them around as they hit the ground. Hard.

John is knocked out by the time Dinah can get her bearings. The glowing of his eyes is gone, even... making it clear that the Power Ring is inert.

Dinah Lance has posed:
When he regains consciousness, John is woken mostly by the sound of Dinah arguing. Once he manages to remember how to open his eyes, the argument appears to be with an ambulance attendant.

"There's other people more seriously hurt than me!" she storms. "Go bug them! I'll be fine in no time!"

John's shield kept both of them alive, but neither of them hale. Dinah's favouring of her left arm suggests something serious there. Broken bone, maybe, or dislocated shoulder.

The attendant tries to speak but gets cut off ruthlessly.

"Go away. I'm turning down your aid!"

She catches John's open eye as she turns away dramatically. "Oh, welcome back to the land of the living. Let's let you rest a bit and then we've got to get home. With a panda."

Dinah winks with a grin. "Get better quick. There's rewards for saving my life."

The rest of the events are a bit of a blur. Just the tired, wounded songbird carrying a giant plush panda like it's a valuable treasure into John's home stands out.