Risk Factor

Hands against the wall, head bent, eyes closed, water running. He hurt. Not a rare statement, but this time it really fucking sucked. How much abuse could one body endure? How many accidents? How many do-overs?

Xander had gone to bed the night before feeling invincible. He always felt invincible. Shit! He was invincible sometimes. Nothing could touch you when you were at the top of your game and on top of the world. He had so many damn games he got to be on top a lot!

He smiled at the thought. Yeah, bein’ on top wasn’t so bad.

But then he’d gone and woken up. Nothing special bout that. He had things to do, places to be, just like any other day. The thrill of a day in the life of Xander Cage and he loved it, ate it up.

He’d stood in this very shower, washed his head and crack and gotten about his business. Who’da known the business was gonna do him in?

Go here, hang out. Go there, hang out some more. Eat lunch. Got over there. Only real time he had to be somewhere was at night. Stunt show. A televised thing. He’d only agreed cuz they wanted him to ride in a thrill globe. He’d ridden them before, course he had, but nobody he knew had one, and it was always cool to get recognized enough to do a show.

Xander lifted his hand and rubbed across his scalp, stopping to feel the sore spot there.

The day hadn’t gone according to plan though.

Heading out to his bike, tinkering with something, not paying attention, he slammed his head into the fucking elevator gate. Didn’t bleed, but shit it hurt!

The guys asked about it and he made up some story. He felt like a fool for doing something so stupidly uncoordinated when he was supposed to be the master of extreme sports.

Shoulda fessed up.

While his arm was up he lifted his other hand to rub his elbow. Again no skin break, but it had already bruised, both his elbows had. He twisted to try to see his bare ass. Had that bruised too?

Went out with a couple of the guys. Just some empty sidewalks and their boards. Supposed to be good, no big deal. First damn railslide he tried he ended up flat on his back.

They all laughed it off. Falling was second nature, part of the game. Later he checked the trucks on his skateboard and seen that he’d forgotten to tighten them. Systems check?

So he tried to lay off of anything before lunch. Didn’t need to decapitate or castrate himself.

Lack of activity didn’t mean the end of his gracelessness.

He dropped a hand down to rub his knee and winced. Yeah, that was sore.

Fucking Ronny was winning their game, and Xander hated to lose. He fought hard, tried to come back from his ten or so game losing streak. No go. He threw the controller and cracked himself right in the damn leg.

Was it possible to just wake up stupid one day?

He lifted his head, eyes still closed and let the water run over his face. Lips parted, his mouth filled until he had to spit. His tongue rubbed against his teeth. Another booboo.

Lunch wasn’t accident free either. He cut his thumb on a damn burger wrap and bit his tongue so hard it had crunched. Blood with those fries? Or just a little salt in the wound?

After lunch the guys wanted to go to the indoor park with their bikes. Xander didn’t want to, but how exactly was he supposed to explain that he was scared of getting another ouchie? That would go over great. ‘Specially with Mark riding with is arm in a damn cast.

If the magnitude of the accidents was increasing as the day went on, he’d been doomed from the start.

There was no one spot to soothe for the accident at the bike park. Xander stretched, rolling his shoulders, arching his back, pushing off from the wall, rolling his neck. Yeah, that about covered it.

He strapped on a helmet at the park and took the ribbing that went with the uncommon scene. He was good and unless he was trying at something that he’d never done before he just didn’t wear protection. But since breakfast the world had started to look a little pointier, a little sharper, and a little more spiteful. The helmet probably saved his life, or at least saved him a lumpier head.

Maybe two minutes into riding he went down. Couldn’t be on a ramp by himself. Couldn’t be on a little ramp. No, he missed the coping on the largest halfpipe in the house, sharing space with four other riders. Over the handlebars, hit the coping, tumbled to the bottom, and then not only his bike fell on him, but two others that had tried to avoid hitting him. He limped away from that one.

The excitement of his afternoon consisted of a lazyboy and some pain medicine.

He stuck his thumb in his mouth and sucked it like the child he felt like.

The chair’s lever caught his thumb and ripped back the nail. And he cut his lip on a fucking straw.

Doomed.

He reported early to the grounds set up for the show. It wasn’t so much a contest as just a demonstration. Needed to practice in the globe before they went and put a camera on him.

He twisted his arm to see the perfect imprint of the emblem on his muffler. The water was warm and made it hurt more, but it was just one of his body’s many complaints.

Tuning his bike, he burned his arm, pinched three of his fingers in the chain’s gears and dropped the damn toolbox on his foot. Steel toes didn’t protect anything but the toes.

Dressed and ready, he entered the cage. The guy secured the door and stepped back, just in time for the fucking thing to ROLL. Seems one of the crew had taken a break before he’d tied the thing down, then forgotten to when he came back.

Xander’s leather pants and jacket protected him from most of the damage, but it still felt like being inside a dryer, with a motorcycle.

The ambulance left empty. The stunt was taken off the lineup for the evening’s televised show.

He drove home slowly.

So now he stood in the shower, letting the heat soothe the aches and injuries. He considered jacking off. That always helped relax him, but then he might slip in the shower and rip his own dick off. Not how he wanted to go.

It was early, seven or so, but he was gonna go to bed.

Sleep to heal. Sleep to end this day before something else disastrous happened.

And this day wasn’t over yet. There was still the shower to climb out of, the complicated clothes to put on while balancing on one foot, the hard doorframes to walk through with bare feet, the high bed to climb onto. Then there was that electrically powered switch to flip. Anything could still go wrong. He hoped he’d survive.