Bill stood on the battered train, riding back to his flat. When he got home, his eyes browsed the place, the musty smell and tattered furnishing familiar to him. He sat down, thinking about what Fox said.
"No. I'm retired." He said, grabbing some food and heading to his dining room, continued pushing down the idea he had. He chewed slowly, not savoring the flavors but memories.
Memories of the war. Definitely not of the fighting, but back at base camp, hanging out with Lance and the others. After he finished, he just put the bowl in the sink, and walked into his bedroom, where he laid down and tried to sleep. His sleep was restless, filled with dreams of his friends. He hadn't seen any of them for a while, despite all the time they had spent together. That's what the sad thing was. He didn't know where any of them were, or what they were doing.
He had an idea then, how to get them back together. In the morning, he opened his closet, and in the corner, untouched for so long, he saw his old rifle. "Pea-Shooters". That's what they called them. He put it outside of the closet, and below it was his old tank top. Pulling out the tank top, he tried to put it on, but his once-muscled body had deterioration, and he couldn't fit in it anymore. But that wasn't the important thing, the important thing is that he would see all of his squadmates again.
Stepping into his kart, he went to a auto-shop, where the old thing was tuned up and upgraded. Afterwards, he made an unusual request, getting
this sprayed on the side of his car. He went outside while the task was completed, he walked up to a phone booth, and called the Mario Kart association. "I'd like to join the next race."