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[center][color=#837E7C][b]MENTIONS:[/b] [@AmpharosBoy] [@Severance] [@Lord Orgasmo] [@NachoBachoPacho][/color][/center]

[color=#837E7C]Her chase had been unsuccessful. Just as Jules was able to catch up with Donny in order to give him a proper beating, he had entered the sights of the officials that were monitoring the other participants of the race. They glared at her as she slowed her horse to a stop. Instead of glaring back, she averted her gaze and turned it to the line of horses that were eagerly waiting the start of the race. Their riders were as gritty-faced as ever and mostly men, so that son of a bitch was easily able to slip into the crowd. For a moment, she caught a glimpse of that dreaded golden hair and boyish face. That... was currently twisted as he mocked her from afar, his tongue poking out into the air like a goddamn fish. Her brow narrowed as she stared him down, her hands curling into fists around Greasy Sand's reigns. Saddle-cloth number 0891. She would remember that.

Grunting a curse under her breath, Jules looked back out at the rest of the horizontal line that stretched over the beach. There were so many people... she had to find her grid number somehow. Right now, she was around the numbers that started with 0... so she would have to go a bit further up. Jules guided her horse into a trot again, only slowing when she saw the numbers climb upwards, above 12, 13, 14, 15... There was 17, and then there was 1728. An empty spot. Her empty spot. She grinned, bringing her horse between the two others that waited for the start of the race. One was a woman with a rather frilly costume atop a gray-speckled horse, while the other was a gray-haired man with a very long mustache that dripped down to his chest. The both of them watched her for a moment as she stood in place. Jules sighed, knowing that they were probably staring at the mess that dappled her cloak and clothing. There were no announcements being made yet, so Jules offered the girl a grin and said, [color=41A317][b]"Pretty nice weather, huh?"[/b][/color]

The girl eyed her with her crystal-clear blue eyes for a moment before her lips curled upwards only slightly. [b]"It'll only get warmer in the desert."[/b] Her voice was smooth and like honey.

[color=41A317][b]"Of course, of course, that stage is said to be about an eighteen days' journey from start to finish-- if you're smart enough."[/b][/color]

[b]"Oh yes, but I expect many to pull out of the race before they complete it,"[/b] she murmured. [b]"Or maybe they won't show up anywhere at all. I heard strange things about that desert."[/b]

Jules cocked her head. [color=41A317][b]"Like what?"[/b][/color]

[b]"ATTENTION ALL PARTICIPANTS,"[/b] a voice boomed from somewhere ahead of them. Jules turned to look, spotting a older man with short-cropped hair standing on a platform. There was a crowd of spectators around him, and while they were all out of the way of the desperate racers, she could still hear his voice as he continued. [b]"THE RACE IS TO START IN FIVE MINUTES. IF YOU ARE NOT WITHIN YOUR GRID MARKER BEFORE THE TWO-MINUTE MARK, YOU WILL BE PENALIZED!"[/b]

Jules looked down at the ground again and made sure that her number matched the grid marker on the ground. Number 1728. She relaxed a bit before turning back to the girl in the frilly clothing. But the girl wasn't looking at her anymore. Her eyes were turned toward the horizon and her face had become much more cold. Jules frowned, then turned to the horizon as well. Idle chit chat was what she usually dabbled in when she was nervous. Though, she silently agreed with the girl. Now wasn't the time for talk. 

A handful of minutes. The man was screaming somewhere in the distance, talking about the more notable members of the race that were gaining all of the attention from the spectators. There weren't any names that she recognized. Some sounded like they were American-- others sounded like they came from far off places, like India or China. People from both the spectator stands and the line of horses cheered a couple of times, and soon enough most of the line was encompassed by a chant of [b]"SAN DIEGO! NEW YORK! SAN DIEGO! NEW YORK!"[/b]

Tension was building. The racers eyed each other nervously. The chants died down steadily. Jules repositioned herself in the saddle, staring ahead. For a split second, there was quiet-- and then explosions rang out behind them. Fireworks. In a rippling motion, the horses began to shoot forward. Jules slammed her heels into Greasy Sand's sides and kept gait with the others. 

The Steel Ball Run had begun.[/color]