Post your Street Hawk fan fiction here!
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Post by Stef3 » Sun Feb 13, 2011 1:40 pm

Hey guys. I just finished chapter one of my Street Hawk story and thought I would post it here as a taster/preview. I'm not gonna post all chapters individually but thought I'd do it with the first one. It's a bit rough, grammar wise and the content may be subject to change but have a read. Let us know what you think.

Stefan Andrews


It was a balmy afternoon in Southern California. The heat shimmered up off of endless tarmac and the unforgiving sun dazzled every unshaded eye in the city of Los Angeles.
The beaches glistened with the oiled bodies of the young and carefree and the soft, slow tide glinted, jewel-like.

In a quiet alley in a long-abandoned industrial area, Jesse Mach was certainly feeling the heat. His black, body-hugging race suit was absorbing rays like a kitchen roll absorbed spilt coffee. Straddling Street Hawk, he had positioned and repositioned the bike often, trying to stay in the shade created by a two-storey warehouse that formed one of the alley’s walls. But the heat was still making him flustered and, to make matters worse, the bike was idling underneath him, giving off even more rising heat from its power unit.

“Norman…are you trying to kill me?” Jesse moaned.
Jesse’s disdainful remark was picked up instantly from the transmitter in his helmet, where it travelled through the air to a console relay twenty miles away. Federal Research agent Norman Tuttle, wearing a tele-operator’s headset, responded to the remark from the comfort of his swivel chair back at Command Centre.

“Kill you.” Norman tutted. Jesse Mach…always the drama queen.
“I’ve fitted a new cooling system to the bike and I need you to take it through different environmental variables…high revs, low revs…prolonged idling after high speed…it all needs to be checked, Jesse.”

“Well how about fitting a new cooling system to the suit, Norman? I’m dehydrating out here!”

“Is your visor opened?”

“No, it’s not open…how is that supposed to cool my body? I need to keep moving…to cool down”

“Well it’s better than nothing, Jesse…we’re almost done anyway…five more minutes!”

“I don’t see why we can’t do this test at command centre,” Jesse complained, “Just hook the back wheel up to that treadmill in the gym and then, bingo, Jesse can go and do more interesting things like watch paint dry!”

“It wouldn’t work, Jesse, I need real world elements such as wind, rain heat, etcetera. Besides, the fumes from the exhaust would be a hazard in such an enclosed space.”

Disgruntled, Jesse flipped open his visor which hissed harshly as he did so. The bike rumbled beneath him, almost as if it, too, begrudged being made to stay put. As Jesse stared at the ground in front of him, the patchwork mosaic of grey, cracked concrete seemed to move and multiply in front of his eyes. The tedium was getting too much.

“Norman, talking of new toys, why don’t you fit Street Hawk with a stereo or something, you know, like a Walkman? Something, anything so I don’t fall into a coma during these test missions.”

“Because I need you alert, not distracted by the latest hit from Debra Shane or Huey Lewis!”

“Can’t you patch me into L.A. Rock Radio or something?”

“NO, Jesse! Street Hawk is a multi-million dollar motorcycle, not a jukebox!”

“Oh come on, Norman! It’s not like I asked you to hang a disco ball on the thing…just some cool pop or breakdance tunes!” Jesse reasoned.

“What is this breakdance?” Norman asked irritably.

“The new dance of the street!” Jesse enthused.

“You want tunes?” Norman asked.

“Yeah, pal, I want tunes!”

“You asked for it!”

Norman cleared his throat and then began to hum Beethoven’s fifth symphony through his mouthpiece, only pausing occasionally to stop and correct himself after a bum note or two.
After ten seconds of audio agony, a stunned Jesse interrupted Norman’s sarcastic, dry voiced warbling.

“Real funny, Norman…real funny, pal!”

“You don’t like my singing?” Norman joked.

Jesse was about to retort when all of a sudden a sound distracted him. High pitched and random, Jesse recognised the sound of a group of children approaching. As they got closer he could hear jeering and cheering. From what was being shouted and how, Jesse recognised that there was about to be a fight. His visor hissed shut and, still astride the machine, he wheeled it as close to the shaded wall as possible.

Then the kids came into view. Strolling past the alley, there were six in total, all approximately eleven years old. Four of them were neither here or there, looks wise, as far as Jesse was concerned. Just average-looking all American kids. But the four were preoccupied with what the other two kids were doing. Namely, fighting. But Jesse could see that this was going to be an unfair fight.

One of the fighters was large for his age. He was tall, fat and ruddy complexioned with a mop of brown hair and a permanent scowl. He reminded Jesse of Frank Menlo and he momentarily wondered if Menlo was as much bully as a child as he is an adult.

The other fighter was quite small for his age. He was thin and pale with red hair and wore gold rimmed aviator style spectacles. He was dressed quite unfashionably for an eleven year old, in beige trousers, a checked shirt which was partially covered by a maroon tank top and a bow tie. Jesse could quite clearly see that this was a case of a nerd being hounded by a bully, whilst the bully’s friends egged him on.

“You told on me, didn’t you, you stupid nerd!” barked the bully. “You told Mr Easton I put that thumb tack on his chair!”

“I didn’t say anything…I swear!” cried the nerd.

The other four kids delighted in the spectacle of seeing their leader terrorise another defenceless victim and they spat out words of juvenile hatred towards the smaller boy.

“Smash his glasses!” shouted one, “Rip his pants!” squawked another.

The bully pulled off the nerd’s glasses and dropped them to the ground. He then put his foot over the top of them. As he pushed his foot down slowly, the spectacles began to bend and crunch beneath his foot but he stopped short of completely pulverising them.

“Do you want me to smash ‘em…four eyes?” taunted the bully.

“Yeah stamp on ‘em…smash Ethan’s glasses!” shouted one of the onlookers.

“Yeah…break ‘em and then do a dance on ‘em!” added another.

“Ha ha…a breakdance!” boomed another.

Jesse had had enough. He knew it was time to intervene. He was never really bullied at school although there had been a boy in a higher year, at Junior High, who had tried, and failed, to intimidate him. But he had seen enough bullying there to realise how it affected the victims.
He thought momentarily about how he was going to deal with the situation. He couldn’t really use any force as, despite being bullies, they were still children. Then an idea dawned on him. The mention of breakdance was an inspiration.

“Norman, did you adjust the speech synthesizer on the helmet like I asked you to?”

“Yes Jesse. I adjusted the encoder to increase the degree of distortion of your voice, like you asked. Who was it you wanted to sound like? Like some cartoon character?”



“Soundwave! He’s this walkman that turns into a robot. He’s got these cassettes that…”

“What are you going to do, Jesse? These are kids, remember. You can’t use any of the bike’s defences on them!” Norman interrupted.

“Watch this!” asserted Jesse.

“Be careful, Mach!”

The bullies continued to terrorise Ethan, whose tears gave away the bewilderment and fear of his predicament. All of a sudden, there was a terrifying roar as a black motorcycle shot from out of an adjourning alleyway, it’s rider looking like an evolved black army ant. Jesse hit the airfoils so that he stopped the bike between the two groups of kids, cutting off the spectator’s view from the combatant’s.

The hiss of the airfoils made the kids jump, which was part of Jesse’s plan. Unnerve them using as much loud noise as was at his deposal. He then kicked the bike’s stand down and let it take Street Hawk’s weight. He then proceeded in his plan to freak out the onlookers. Firstly facing forward over the nose of the bike, he turned his head slowly to the right to face the four loutish youths. He did it in such a fashion as to come across as robotic by starting and finishing the move with a subtle jerk motion.

The yobs stood aghast as their own faces were reflected in the inhuman, shiny visage of Jesse’s helmet. Then Jesse spoke.

“Go home.”

The voice was grotesque and coldly mechanical. It visibly made the kids frightened and one even audibly gasped. But they were stunned, glued to the spot like a group of rabbits in a single, chilling headlight.
Jesse knew what he had to do next to get them to go away. Using the same robot technique, he raised himself off of Street Hawk and slowly manoeuvred towards them. It was all he could do stop himself making hydraulic motor noises with each deliberate, robotic step.

“Go home.” He said again in exactly the same voice.

This time the kids listened and they bolted from the scene for their lives, in a gaggle of flailing arms and legs and hysterical screams.

Jesse then robo-turned his head ninety degrees to face Ethan and his aggressor. Both were frozen in position, like a painting or tableau of an example of a bullying taking place, with Ethan sat sprawled on the dusty concrete and the bully standing over him. But both boys’ attention was on the black shape that was slowly and deliberately gliding towards them. The bully scarpered into a nearby alley, looking behind him as he ran to see if the robot man was following. He wasn’t and as he turned his head back around to follow the direction his legs were carrying him in, he ran straight into a grubby old dumpster…and fell in. After regaining his sense of composure, the bully then decided to spy on the situation that had befallen his former prey.

Ethan’s heart was in his throat as the black figure marched towards him. He was still sprawled on the ground and knew he would never have enough time to get up and escape. All sorts of terrifying, sci fi inspired thoughts crossed his mind as the figure leaned over him, blotting out the sun. The dreadful black-gloved hand reached down, surely to crush his skull.

“Don’t hurt me!” shrieked the boy, covering his eyes with his forearm.

“Ethan…are you okay?” asked the robot.

“You…you know my name!” stated the boy, still unsure of the robot’s intention.

“Grab my arm.” spoke the android.

Ethan, tentatively held out his arm which Jesse gently grabbed before pulling the boy to his feet.

“Those boys bothering you?” asked the disembodied, synthesized voice.

“Bobby Thorne thinks that I ratted him out to Mr Easton…but I didn’t! Now he said he’s gonna get me!” explained Ethan.

“You’re gonna be okay, Ethan.”

“Really…you think so?”

Jesse rested an arm on the boy’s shoulder.

“I think so…I gotta go now.” Jesse turned and marched back to the bike, almost forgetting his robot charade.

Ethan picked up his semi-squashed, dust-clouded specs and pushed them into place.

“Who are you!?”

Jesse turned his head towards the boy.

“Street Hawk.”

The boy was suddenly charged with excitement and was filled with such positive emotion that he had tears in his eyes. He had heard many local news stories about Street Hawk but they had usually been in a negative light. But none had mentioned how cool he was, and especially that he was a robot!

“Street Hawk?” Ethan’s shout was almost choked by sheer thrill.

Jesse fired up the bike and took one last look at the boy. He paused to stick his left thumb aloft, to which the boy responded likewise.

“Alright Jesse…nice work. Bring her home.” Advised Norman calmly through the intercom. He was audibly moved by Jesse’s compassion for the boy.
“Oh, and by the way, I loved the robot idea!”

“That’s breakdance, Norman!”

Ethan watched the black bike roar into the distance and disappear around the corner of a large building. He was just about to turn to walk home when there was a crashing noise to the alley on his right. Bobby Thorne came staggering out of the alley, having spied on the event just prior.

“Oh, no Bobby…not again!” cried Ethan.

Bobby ran towards Ethan with his right arm outstretched. Ethan was too tired to run and as Bobby accosted him, he stood, eyes closed with inevitable acceptance. But instead of the fist in the face that he was expecting, came a friendly arm resting around his shoulders.

“Hey, Buddy!” smiled Bobby. An awkward smile made by someone owing an apology.

“Huh?” Ethan was genuinely confused.

“So…you know Street Hawk?”

Jesse rode through the streets of L.A. with a lightened heart, hardly noticing the startled stare of drivers and pedestrians as he zoomed past.

But one person was not startled to see him ride past. They were not startled because they were expecting him. They had been waiting. They had been observing him for a while. Inside a disused industrial building, a black suited figure sat motionless upon an idling black motorcycle, half hidden in a shadowy aperture which used to be a loading bay. It was partially illuminated by a green, neon light wrapped around the underside of the motorcycle's nose.

As the figure scanned the road in front of it, a red LED heads-up display inside the visor fed him technical information about all that crossed his field of vision. Cars drove past and the information about them and their drivers flashed up. Names, addresses, registration details. But the rider had no interest in them.

And soon enough, the rider’s patience had paid off. Just as he had predicted, L.A.’s mysterious, two-wheeled, crimefighting vigilante roared by in a streak of black, gold and blue & red neon.

He watched Street Hawk disappear into the distance as his visor LED blinked:
Target id_STREET HAWK>
Command Order_SERIES 4>
Metropolitan Police Commissioner Leo Amatelli

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Post by JON1482 » Mon Feb 14, 2011 11:23 am

Im back there.....1985! :) Great start, looking forward to reading the entire novel.
Last edited by JON1482 on Tue Feb 15, 2011 11:44 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Post by Stef3 » Mon Feb 14, 2011 12:05 pm

Cheers JON! ;)
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Post by pentastar » Mon Feb 14, 2011 5:43 pm

Well all right! Finally some new fan fiction to enjoy! I remember we had a lot of fun doing our group written fanfic awhile back. Liking it so far, especially the 80's era references.

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Post by Stef3 » Tue Feb 15, 2011 6:45 am

Cheers. It was important for me to set it around the same time as the original. It's set in '85 and the breakdance idea is a sort of joke. You know, where a TV series makes out a fad, that is already out of date, is still "street" and "hip". Probably because the writers/producers had only just cottoned onto the idea or because the script was written at that time but not filmed for a while. As we know, Breakdancing was all the rage in '84 but had died down by '85. I think "The Incredible Hulk" might have done the same thing with Disco. :P
Metropolitan Police Commissioner Leo Amatelli

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Post by pentastar » Wed Feb 16, 2011 3:33 pm

Sad thing is, I still call it "breakdancing", even though it's called other stuff now.

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Post by Stef3 » Thu Dec 19, 2013 10:35 am

Hey guys. I know I promised to deliver this story AGES ago but I can never find the time to sit and write it. :( However, I will post the entire synopsis here soon (before chrimbo hopefully). :)
Metropolitan Police Commissioner Leo Amatelli

Joined:Wed Jan 20, 2010 7:22 am
Location:WALES, U.K.


Post by JON1482 » Fri Dec 20, 2013 9:03 am

Looking forward to that. Has it really been 2 years :o . Merry Christmas.

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Post by broken_turnip » Mon Dec 23, 2013 9:45 am

Love it Stefan, you've really captured the feel of the show. It reminds me of the stories in the annual, the way the bike is described as a living, breathing being.

Bring on Chapter 2!

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Post by Stef3 » Tue Dec 24, 2013 11:13 am

Cheers guys! The synopsis is just going through "final processing" (*A little bit of this, a little bit of secrets). Have a great Christmas!

*100 points if you can id the movie reference! :D
Metropolitan Police Commissioner Leo Amatelli

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