Modern Day

Biffa the Incredible. A name recognized by most of the modern world, and nearly all of his native Britain. He had performed stunts, in the theme of the early twentieth century stuntman, and put his audiences in awe each time. Such feats as jumping off of a skyscraper and surviving, driving a semi-truck through a loop and crossing the entire nation of Luxembourg on a hang-glider. Now, he had decided to take his stunts to a new level, and attempt to cross the entirety of the Pacific Ocean in a one man speedboat.

As a new challenge, almost an hour before the start of his journey, he decided to race his friend Xavier, who he had ran into in Seoul the day before.

Xavier Ventman, also English, stood at the dock, next to a small boat, loaded with supplies, painted blue. He spotted his friend, strutting up to the dock, sporting a light maroon wetsuit with yellow glasses. His face poked out, the glasses sitting on his forehead. Xavier looked up at the sky, not exactly enjoying every moment of Biffa's arrogance, but not ashamed of him either. It was cloudy, with a layer of mist in the air. Biffa strode over to his boat, painted red with yellow stripes, and stepped in. Of the hundreds of people at the dock, not one seemed to care if Biffa or Xavier were okay. Not one seemed to care if either one was injured during the journey; they just wanted to see them arrive in California. A klaxon like horn sounded. Xavier, still on the dock, realized that Biffa had started his engine, and quickly jumped in his boat and put on his helmet. While it was hard to see through the purple visor, he imagined that Biffa may be having a harder time with his yellow glasses.

Hours passed. Days, even. Constant refueling, and trying to sleep. Eventually, somewhere outside of the Phillipines, Xavier saw Biffa, on his boat. He was catching up. This was the only thought in his mind. He didn't seem to care when Biffa's boat stopped suddenly, only seeing it as an advantage. Nor did he care when Biffa's engine caught fire. Just ten more feet, he thought to himself. Purple lights flashed around him. But he didn't notice, for they blended in with his visor. But then his boat stalled. He felt ill and lightheaded, as though he had been drinking on a binge. Then the most peculiar sensation occurred. As if by magic, he felt himself split down the middle. His engine started. He saw Biffa's boat, still flaming, but sinking. He felt an urge. An urge to help his friend. He steered his boat over to Biffa, and hauled him aboard. He saw the outline of an island in the distance. They would reside there while they were fixing Biffa's boat.