Chapter Text
As he had once before in the comfortable confines of his own mountain laboratory, the self-proclaimed ‘Mr. Fastbucks’ stepped forward across the stage, the thump of his cane echoing. As he reached the front, standing at the edge of the crowd he swept an arm back — whereupon a bright stage light not only focused audibly on him, but the chestnut-haired eighteen-year old laid in a helpless spread atop a much more devious machine.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!” he bid to the extensive crowd. “This young man behind me is Speed Racer, driver of the Mach Five — and a little troublemaker who never seems to get the idea that he should keep his nose out of other people’s business where it doesn’t belong! If you don’t know him now, you’ll get to know him because a bunch of my colleagues and I have planned a little treat for him and you all! Heheheh!”
Speed flinched at the flood of bright light, lids fluttering as his vision adjusted — a typical “Oh…Ohhhh…!” escaping his throat at the sight of a wall-to-wall crowd, not unlike a packed stadium before a big race. He couldn’t quite make out most faces, but from the looks of the clothing, dresses, furs, canes, and monocles, it seemed like another wide swath of questionable characters. The villains were playing to their own, no surprise; though he wondered for a moment if their ultimate plan would be.
Said crowd murmured investedly, though quieted down in time for Fastbucks’ next speech. “So I bet you’re all wondering what this device is we’ve got him in here. Well, I’ll tell you…Speed may seem tough and feisty, but like everybody, he’s got a weakness — haha! And do you know what that weakness is?!”
Now there was the sound of rapid footsteps as the excitable Professor Loon came running out to join the ceremony mastering — hoisting yet another ample glass of dry red wine as he slid to a wide-stanced stop next to Fastbucks. Though it seemed fitting for the declaration to fall to him, as he finished gleefully “He’s TICKLISH!” and took a likewise generous gulp of said wine before adding “Quite very, very, INCREDIBLY ticklish, actually! In fact, he might be one of the most ticklish things on Earth! I’ve never seen anything like it; it’s quite the laugh riot! Don’t you agree?”
There seemed to be a nigh-unanimous “WHAT?” from the crowd now, followed by more murmuring, chuckling and chortling. Though no one sounded any less invested, it seemed. The chestnut-haired one’s cheeks burned as he winced, trying to look away — though in his position, he couldn’t quite completely hide his eyes. The hot light was already making him sweat, and while the cuffs kept him mostly still, his sharply sinking stomach made him fidget what little he could. He curled his fingers tight into fists, though the device held him fast by the toes — which only made his stomach churn more.
Finally, Fastbucks spoke up again. “As you can imagine, everything got a little easier from there.” A genuine laugh from the crowd. “So! With this great machine, we’re giving you all a chance to make Speed laugh and see him squirm a bit for all his meddling!” The man began swinging his cane again out of habit, slapping his palm, and making wide swings toward the device. “It’s just a quarter for a quarter of an hour, and all proceeds go to keeping this brat off the track and out of everyone’s plans! Just put in your coin, push a button, and watch the magic! There’s plenty of room for everyone so come one, come all! Come see our genius little invention, huh? I promise you won’t regret it!”
And then the crowd began to move, shuffling down from their seats and toward the machine — toward the boy whose skin began to crawl. For a moment, heart pounding, he struggled genuinely, though by now even he knew it was useless.
He twitched at the first unmistakable clinking from the slot, the clicking of the buttons, and felt the mechanized digits descend on his soles, sides, stomach, and into his sleeves. He bit his lip and tried to keep from laughing but it wasn’t a few seconds before his cheeks puffed, and he burst out giggling “Heheheheheh! HAHAHA! Heheh! HAahahahaHAHA!” with a helpless writhe — mostly his head which was supported but unrestrained. Limited by the width between his own arms, but with enough room for an apparently crowd-pleasing flail.
Time hadn’t meant anything in, well; he had no idea how long. But once again, everything sank into another endless stretch of breathless hullaballoo. The device creaked only a few times with his spastic thrashing. The relentlessly wiggling fingers, sweeping feathers, and buzzing bristles clung close and followed his every tug and kick. His stomach hurt, but it wasn’t enough to distract from the tingles that tensed his jaws, sending it popping open with more guffaws at every new clink and click.
Even with all the noise, he tensed when he heard a voice say “Well, well…long time no SEE, eh, Speed?”
Opening a watery eye, he finally recognized a face. “…S-Snake?” he uttered.
The face grinned, lids lowering as the other young man went on “Y’know, you didn’t really win that race…”
“Huh?”
“You heard me. If Racer X hadn’t been babysitting you, you woulda smashed up almost as bad as I did before you even got back to the track!”
Despite everything, the chestnut-haired one’s teeth gritted, brows lowering. “What?! That’s not true at all!”
And suddenly, another familiar face appeared, flashing a similar smirk. “Hmhm…looks like you’re the one in a precarious position now, huh?”
“Duggery? Huh? You too?!”
The dark-haired newcomer paused for a chuckle of his own. “Eh, I go more by Zoomer Slick these days, but either way, funny running into you, Speed…” He glanced up, sharing a cordial nod with Oiler — who leaned down to resume his quarrel.
“You’re a fraud, Speed! …you oughta change your name…hmm, Speed Faker. Yeah, that sounds about right!”
“Listen! I was driving the Mach Five just as m—!” Speed began, cutting himself off with a flinch as Snake raised a hand, showily balancing four quarters between his fingers.
“Looks like I’ve got a whole dollar!”
“Hey, me too!” Slick noted, cradling another four coins. “That’s two hours, isn’t it?”
Sweat beaded on the chestnut-haired one’s temple. “…two hours…” he echoed quietly, brows finally convex as he listened to the rattle of eight coins dropping into the slot.
“That’s right, Speed — so why don’t you lighten up for a while?” Oiler bid, rather coyly pressing another button.
Speed felt feathers flitting under his arms as a whole duster of them brushed briskly over his belly. “HAHAHA! NoHO! NaHAt featheHErs, PLEASE! HAHAHAHA!”
“Boy, I’ve heard of being knocked over by a feather, but this is ridiculous!” Zoomer joked, he and Snake snickering.
“You boys think that’s a riot, you should try tickling his toes — he’ll crumple to a million pieces!” boasted a bearded, moustached man who voice rang strikingly similar to Oiler’s. The other two looked up.
“Toes, huh? If you say, so, mister…” Snake noted, finding the right buttons.
The chestnut-haired one jumped for a moment “NO! Not my toes, pleHEHEase NOHO!” and his pitch jumped as the fingers and feathers reached his feet, sliding between his toes, followed by tiny swirling brushes. “HAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAA!” Tears beaded and fell from the corners of his squeezed shut eyes.
For a moment, they all laughed again — something that echoed through the crowd, especially when Speed laughed harder. Swiping at his own eye, Slick mused quietly “What a wreck! …but maybe we’d better get outta here, this stuff’s getting contagious!”
It was then that the trio noticed quite a few of the young women who’d crowded around the spectacle, humming and giggling and musing at the chestnut-haired one’s predicament. “Oooh, I just love his laugh! It’s so cute!” cried one.
“He’s so wriggly and giggly, it’s so funny!” chimed another, reaching out toward Speed’s side, her finger poking the air as her arm came just short.
“Hmhmhm…” Oiler slid up beside her. “You think that’s funny, watch this!” He punched a combination of buttons which set the fingers giving Speed sides ticklish squeezes while a feather danced and spun in his navel, making him twist and buck, his voice babbling while his pitch hopped between high and shrill.
“Ooh…oooooh! So crazy!” the girl said, “I love it!” She found herself bumping up against the other young man, meeting his gaze. She smiled widely as he half-wittingly slid an arm around her.
“A lovely show for a lovely lady…of course…” he bid, practically matching her blush.
“You know, in the Dark Ages, people gathered around to watch torture and execution almost every day — but I’ll bet you it was never this lively!” Deucey cheered, another couple of ladies already in arm. Quickly dumping another eight dollars in change into the machine, the man added “But in the spirit of racing, let’s see how much he can really take! Let’s see how fast he can really go, eh, girls?”
“Yeah! Yeah!” the two cheered.
The three men jockeyed for position a bit before each reaching out to push more buttons, sending the mechanized arms into a frenzy of more, faster tickles. Speed was almost literally swimming in feathers, fingers, and brushes of all kinds. His voice shrieked out between quieter, even silent stretches as his chest pounded, face red and widely tear-streaked.
His head swam a bit as he heard his own laughter mixed with his drumming pulse. But above it, above the hum and audible quirks of the machine, he heard the others’ laughter. It was a looming, jeering laugh — the fingers that weren’t poking and scritching were pointing sharply.
Speed Racer had once been a somewhat well-known, mildly respectable name. Now, here, in this den, it was a joke. He was a joke. A living toy, a puppet paraded in front of his rivals and enemies. The tickling was fierce enough to blend his laughing with screaming — which only made everyone else laugh harder, heavier, more sneering and scornful.
Now far from his first glass of wine, Loon let out a hooting holler, jabbing Fastbucks in the side with his free elbow. “This is terrific! We’re rich — and Speed Racer is as good as finished! Just look at him! Look at him now!”
“Yes, I can see that!” Fastbucks snapped back. “But Professor, we do — er, we should probably wrap up our little exposé before he burns out like a battery, huh?”
“Ooooh, you’re right, we can’t let him die before the party does! BUT —” the wily monocled one rushed to flip a switch on the machine’s backside “that’s why I insisted on including THIS little gem! Er, just one moment everyone!”
Suddenly, the cuffs snapped apart, the machine opening up underneath the chestnut-haired one and swallowing him up, at which the crowd gasped. The doors swung shut, and everyone could hear more momentum within the metal.
Speed had time to utter one quick “Ohh!” before thudding to a cushioned spot, being pushed to an awkward sit and quickly stripped of his clothes. He grunted as he was yanked to a perceivable full soapy tub and more slowly though thoroughly scrubbed — which tickled almost as much as the main mechanism. He received a few cold splashes of water to rinse, a straw prodded in his mouth with some more potable stuff to quickly gulp before being yanked out, back to the previous cushioned spot for a fairly thorough and equally tickly oily massage which he found himself truly grateful for, especially for the ache-relieving rub down his back.
Once toweled and briefly air-blown dry, he found himself dressed and hoisted back into the restraints, which resumed their iron grip. He half-winced at the pinch on his toes as they were grabbed and pulled apart again.
“THERE! Good as new, hmm? All right, let’s keep this party going! Wahooo!” Loon shouted, flipping another switch to resume the machine’s coin-fed operations.
After some gawking and blinking, the festivities quickly resumed — especially once Ace eagerly set the fingers, feathers, and brushes back to the chestnut-haired one’s freshly cleaned feet.
“NOHOHOHOO! NAHAHAT THAHAT! NAHAT THEHERE!” Speed howled. “PLEHEASE PLEASE PLEHEEEEASE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! GAAHAHAHA! PLEHEASE STAHAP! STAHAHAAAAAAAAP!”
“…and YOU said it’d be too cumbersome and too expensive,” the white-haired one jabbed. “Look who’s laughing now! …well, Speed is, but that’s the point!”
“You know you really are a total nutjob,” Fastbucks mused, “I always liked that about you!”
“Well, they don’t call me ‘Professor Loon’ for nothing!” Loon noted proudly, sipping his wine. “Orrr maybe it is just a coincidence — I forget! But who CARES?! This is the best, craziest, most successful thing we’ve ever done and it’s ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIC!”
“HAhaha! You SAID IT!” the more fully bearded one clinked a glass with his. “To Speed and his ridiculously popular weakness! And to us for being so clever as to make a pretty penny — or should I say, a ton of shiny quarters on it?! Ha!”
“HahaHAaa! You SAID IT!” Loon echoed, tipping back his glass.