"Reactors, check. Balance systems, check. Boosters, check. We are good to go," One of the other racers said, checking things off a list. He was a tall human man of early middle age, probably around 33. He was dressed in dark blue jeans, black work boots, and a simple grey t-shirt. He was fairly well-built, mostly due to all the heavy lifting his work had him doing. His brown hair was of medium length, pulled back so that none fell over his forehead, which came to a slightly frayed rest at the back of his neck. He also had facial hair, more due to lack of time for shaving than choice, in the form of stubble and a soul patch.<br/><br/>In front of him rested a large vehicle, somewhat unlike other machines around it. It had an ovular shape, and interestingly, no wheels. It was being suspended by some sort of metal scaffolds. On the bottom of the machine, four round objects rested. Currently, they were turned off, and looked a bit like giant fans. Nobody else had any idea what the hell they were. In truth, their owner didn't even know if they would function correctly. This race? For him, it was a test ride for his new invention.<br/><br/>He made the mistake of making the potential hovercar too big to drive. So, to fix that problem, he'd also built a more traditional machine to pilot it. The robot was not particularly large: It was a 15 foot tall humanoid, very smooth and rounded, as opposed to the blocky and angular designs that were more common. It was humanoid, with long limbs and an interesting head shape. Cylindrical, with a rounded back. The machine's face consisted of a simple plate where the mouth and nose would be and a large, orange cyclopean visor to protect its optics. Both the hovercar and the mecha were painted red, with bright yellow accents on both. Racing stripes on the car, and decorative trimming on the mech.<br/><br/>The man smiled brightly, setting down the clipboard he was holding. He couldn't wait to get this started.