[center][h1][b]Tuesday 18th June, 2094
The Riverside Cafe, Henley-on-Thames, Oxfordshire, United Kingdom
1100 GMT
[/b][/h1][/center]

[img]https://live.staticflickr.com/2822/34205349341_4a712b42db_b.jpg[/img]

[color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Mist on the Water[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color]

[center][h2][i][b]Cassie Neves and Kais Zenix[/b][/i][/h2][/center]

Sitting inside of the quiet cafe, Cassie sipped away at her latte, wearing a black tech-hoodie and a beanie hat, earbuds in, the look of the racer that had been in the points at the British GP masked up versus her usual team gear and her typical appearance. She knew how to hide, or at least, how to keep a low profile. But Kais knew where to go. What table to turn up to. And she wasn’t quite sure what the fuck she was doing. Rage against the machine? Or just rage against her own? She recognised that much at least, as she checked her phone, sipping down more coffee, looking outside at the rainy morning by the River Thames.

A hefty thud crashed down upon the chair opposite her. “Bad idea to leave your earbuds in when waiting on an enemy.” Kais said. He turned down his jacket’s hood, and ran his hand through his hair - wet, of course. “I hate the rain. At least it isn’t as bad as in Tokyo.” He flipped the switch on the table for an order and simply said “Coffee, black.” Then he turned to her and greeted her with a nod. “Neves…”  

Cassie tsk’d, peeling them out, popping them onto the table.
“Welcome to England.. And I suppose that’s an astute observation….for someone who used to kill people for a living. They have a really good passthrough.” Cassie barbed, sighing, leaning across the table.
“Some part of me can’t believe I agreed to this. For what it’s worth, Kais, this isn’t something I like the idea of. This is….well, because we both aren’t comfortable with where we are, are we?” Cassie muttered, keeping her voice down, the quiet cafe checked over by her agent’s team for any cameras, or anyone that could easily listen in.
“So what’s troubled you then?” Cassie spat it out, to the point, even by her standards, not mincing words.

“Wouldn’t be too quick to call me a ‘someone’ back then.” Kais snorted, though he still wasn’t quite sure if he believed it as much. Still, it might serve as much of a hook to get through to her. “Though I’m sure you’ve never felt like someone you’re not… Made to feel.” He sat back, looking for any response, a pang of recognition. Anything to get her on his side, if only for a moment. Because he needed info. “Look, I’m not here to be liked. I know you care about what is happening within the sport, and that you don’t like it. And though you may not believe it…” He let the words die out, thinking about Nora, Ava. Who would be next in the chain? He turned back to Cassie. “You said I was just as bad as Amy. I want to know what you meant. You know just as well as I that there’s weird things going on with her. I want to find out [i]what[/i]. And [i]why[/i]. You’ve been with Zygon, same as Amy. You know what it’s like on the inside. And you’re not an idiot. So you’re the only one I can go to on this.” 

Cassie folded her arms, sighing, keeping her voice down but wanting to externalise.
“Well, you are very shit out of luck if I’m the last one left.” Cassie poked back with about the appropriate amount of sarcasm, sipping down more coffee, clanking the cup down with her synthetic arm and pushing it out of side.
“Amy doesn’t stop, she is completely, totally relentless in what she wants. So are you, from how you race. And maybe what’s in your blood….wait. Oh, you mean….shit.” Cassie stopped herself, realising mid sentence, sighing.
“You think she had something to do with Luna? They did something to her while they were in the team, here she is, carrying it forward?” Cassie asked, almost as if she was now chipping away at him. “I mean, it’s bold, but….she isn’t like that.”

“Your words.” Kais sat back again. “Wouldn’t be above Zygon, looking at it from the outside. How’s the pressure there, huh? Nice and comfy, with that teammate of yours?” Kais barbed back. “Don’t play me, telling me there isn’t weird stuff going on. You can call me a freak and walk away. Fine by me. But don’t call me an idiot, Neves. I can see it in your eyes.”

Cassie scowled, before sighing, knowing it wasn’t worth this. She’d been through this bullshit too many times with Dorian, but then again, he wasn’t wrong. And he had called her bluff out, looking into those X+Y optics.
“Well, Zenix….yeah, of course. Of course it’s fucking weird. And yeah, you wouldn’t be wrong. Of course shit’s weird.” Cassie sulked, quietly sitting in her chair, shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t even want to guess what goes on within Zygon’s top level but of course they do stuff. Nothing I’m partial to, mind. They are relentless, and it’s corporate to the bone, to a point where my image is being used in a way that would breach so many rules in the west. It’s a system made to make you a celebrity, then flush away when you don’t fit. You'd hate yourself too. It’s all smoke and mirrors. Oh, and my team-mate is frankly perfection, a genetic slate, factory made for manufacturing PR. And that’s why I looked into her….because well, I couldn’t keep myself.” The Luso-Scot leaned into the table, sizing up Kais, knowing that you didn’t get abs, muscles, complexion like that quite like that if you wanted to be in AG from birth.

“There’s a programme within the Republic of Korea that Zygon partnered on, that about thirty years ago, looked at making soldiers for their own army, given all the population decline, defending the newly integrated DPRK into it, you know, that thing. They scrapped it because of ethical concerns, because….well, you know, but I think they didn’t forget what was inside it. And at some point, someone I think sold the technology behind it to someone else. I wouldn’t be surprised if Amy’s parents, a rich family, were lucky enough to enjoy something a bit beyond gene editing, more like a designer child. Han is the same. Interestingly enough, they sent a shipment to Egypt. Sold it to an unknown buyer…which must have been incredibly expensive, and well, requires geneticists, and a serious commitment given you can’t just grow bodies in a bag like you would a koi fish. Mixed the phenotypes in from local genetic profiles, changed a few bits, but….that’s how far they go. That’s how I guess it confirmed…well, what I said for me were my feelings, because they got their perfection in time with Han. Guess it went full circle when it comes to you.” Cassie looked back, barbing back hard at Kais, her opinion unchanged. If anything, she’d almost felt like she saw confirmation from that. 
Why was it she wanted him to know? She wasn’t sure herself, but perhaps almost as if to get it out of her system, because there wasn’t a soul she could tell.

“So anything is possible, Kais. What they did to Amy last year, nobody knows. But if they’re willing to do that, then what did you think they did to their star pilot that put a lot of executives into an incredibly successful position? They’ll push like anyone does, but maybe Amy’s got a little bit more.” Cassie asked back, knowing it wasn’t answering his question, but no doubt, would present why she had that slight undertone.

Kais was taken aback. He stayed silent for a while. The amount of information she was willing to give was surprising, it must have been weighing on her. Did she expect this information to get out somehow? Was it bait, given how she looked at him? Who knew, but it would definitely clear up a few things. The strange feeling he got around her. And… [i]Shaqiq[/i], she called him. “No…” He shook his head. “That’s not true. That’s impossible.” 

Cassie’s eyes perked up, knowing she had gotten right back under his skin.
“Maybe it isn’t. But up until now, it had me thinking…..not exactly hard to draw the lines out, is it? Around the paddock, it’s not exactly small news that Amy’s got a bit more under her skin. Same as Layla has through picking herself apart. And now, I noticed….same as you. Look at the size of you. You’re bigger than a rugby player. It isn’t surprising.” Cassie flatly noted, finishing the brew in its entirety.

“Anyway, what are you trying to figure out? You’re maybe an ex-subject of that, and now you’re basically the second biggest face of the Arabic Union to the wider world, shy of Bionic Layla. Locked in a title fight with the big Silver Apex and Southern Cross, so you want me to tell you how to get under Peter Thatcher’s skin? Is it that?” Cassie replied, sighing as she finished a Biscoff that was next to her cup, sat back in her chair, trying not to let him bear too much on her mind, looking at him deep in thought.

“I’m trying to work out that answer as well. Makes two of us.”

[hr]

[center][h1][b]Friday June 30th, 2094
Circuit Gilles Villeneuve, Montréal, Canada (Federated American States) 
1000 GMT
[/b][/h1][/center]

[color=gold][center][h2][i][b]La Sauce Deux[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color]

After thirty chaos-filled minutes, the teams, through the magic of editing, were back again, this time with a plate of questionable looking poutine in front of them, on a sharer plate. 

It frankly wrote itself this stuff, because when you had a loose bunch of pilots, and maybe Kais and Ava in that mix, it all ended up playing out in a predictable fashion.

"Bon appetit, both of you!" Aurora called to the pair that were on the couch, and with it, let them get a taste of something truly Canadian that had been bastardised in its own way.

[hr]

[center][h1][b]Saturday July 1st, 2094
Qualifying Day
Circuit Gilles Villeneuve, Montréal, Canada (Federated American States) 
1400 EDT
[/b][/h1][/center]

[center][h2][i][b]Cassie Neves[/b][/i][/h2][/center]

[color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Rain Dance[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color]

The rain was consistent, but gentler than the massive storm that had hit Montreal overnight, soaking the circuit and creating plumes of spray when AG ships rolled over them, but it made this feeling even more satisfying. Even more incredible, because in a shootout, one lap was all that mattered. Getting it right, 

The circuit in the hands of Cassie was an absolute riot, the circuit highly modified from its original setting. With an extensive use of MAG-banked walls, handling was critical in the tighter bits, but stability had a role to play, while the wide open straights felt like a ship was pushed when on the casino straight and start-finish line, able to high scream up to top speed. In the rain, it was even more satisfying, because despite grip not being affected, it made visibility slightly challenging, and it became a game of the pilot mods coming into the fore, making the difference between the elite pilots and the good ones. That, and good fashioned pilot skill to use the LIDAR, RADAR and augmented system that could see through the pouring stuff, but more than anything, pure, total instinct and bravery. No safety rails, this was truly as close as it came to going blind and the ship's interaction came to everything in making it count. 

Through Turns 1 and then Turn 2 of Virage, the ship screamed, Cassie smirking at the feeling of the handling, just coming to exactly where it needed to, turn 2's enormous bank being hit high and exited low to exert the force through the ship, feeling the magnets glue and then throw the ship out, like hitting a rail on a skateboard with significantly more wobble. This was more like it. Maybe it felt a little illicit, the chassis now tailored for circuits rather than street circuits, but here, it was exactly on the money. At 3 and 4, the ship wove, and at 6 the long turn had been turned into another banked section, making the change of direction violent but faster, spitting into 7's gentle bank that went over the St Lawrence River, before the next chicane at 8 and 9, requiring the ship to actually slow as the banking had been put up to avoid overruns and bunch up ships, but allowed for a fast exit. And then Turn 10. The famous Montreal hairpin had been modified with a crossover section, a massive super-structure mounted where it felt like a fast right turn, hitting a bank that turned hard left, the magnets pulling ships upside down right in front of spectators, over the circuit with a long gradient, holding upside down before coiling over and dropping ships back onto the straight, in which the Zygon-powered ship roared, ELS at full discharge, the whine screaming before the final test the circuit had. Turns 13 and 14 were untouched, and required a hard right and left pull of the ship through the yoke and mind, carrying as much speed as humanly possible because the circuit went all the way to a wall. No spectators were now here, because crashing was incredibly easy- you just had to carry too much speed at the exit of the chicane and you would be greeted by "The Wall of Champions"- so named because it was covered in paint, debris marks and racing drivers and pilots who were on flying laps, and binned it at the very last second. Not Cassie, though, she carried on and the ship's handling with a snap in her mind allowed her to weave just within the holographic track markers without so much as even contacting, blasting it down the main straight with everything else she had left. It felt like sprinting for the line, every part of her willing the ship forward. 
"P1, Cassie, damn that was incredible!" The voice of her race engineer 

And exhaling hard, she brought it around, watching the deltas over other ships on their one and only out lap give it a go. Cassie's time didn't change. Han posted a good one, but her own stayed top of the leaderboard.

Was it broken?

But in the pits, pulling in, the rain intensifying if anything, Cassie popped the canopy and heard the roar of the team, and her radio chirp.

"Cassie, that is one two, one two! What a lap, outstanding work from you and Han today, let's go!" Cassie heard over the comms, not from her usual, but Jinwoo, the team principal.

This whole thing was looking pretty insane, as she barely could find the mind to react, clambering out of the harness and down the steps, leaping into a soaking wet group of crew, cheering.
"Let's f**cking go!" Cassie yelled, leaping forward into a crowd of the team, who promptly posed for a picture with the still helmet-wearing Cassie Neves, polesitter at Canada. And Han had come into second too, making this a hell of a display from Zygon. Doubts would linger about just how on earth that chassis was legal here, but it had clearly punched through and made short work on track here today. And Cassie was loving all of this, taking her helmet off, getting under cover, and escaping the incoming media, a beam back on her face. 

This was what everything she had been working towards had finally yielded, and it felt like a vindication. A chance to get one back at Valkyrie, even after forgiving Dorian, just to make a dent back at them.

[hider=Qualifying Results for Montreal:]

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1qF6cn-eA0G0sumgf79TvEnPjOHyQP-vZSFV6LNrn_OY/edit?usp=sharing

[/hider]

[hr]

[center][h1][b]Saturday July 1st, 2094
Circuit Gilles Villeneuve, Montréal, Canada (Federated American States) 
1700 EST
[/b][/h1][/center]

[color=gold][center][h2][i][b]The End Of The Contender[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color]

[center][h2][i][b]Jamie Hart[/b][/i][/h2][/center]

[img]https://sportsbase.io/images/gpfans/copy_1200x800/5a56b16daa525aa157c27f6bd4e167fddc29bb45.jpg[/img]

Sighing, Jamie sat looking at the analytics, as Peter shook his head. It was a clear incitement. He walked on past and patted him on the shoulder, as the team seemed to leave him and he was left to his own, this bit of the debrief over inside the pit box, in front of all the smart systems and holographic screens the team had to bear. Only Cal was left.

"Chin up, mate. They kept you to Canada. That was a promise he made." Callum noted, taking a seat on a plastic chair next to him, Jamie with face in hands, trying to keep his mind at bay with what was going on in there. Almost a stream of tears seemed to pour, 

"I know, but.....yeah, this hurts. It's difficult...getting made to look like this. Fuck man, how the hell could I have done better! I mean, it's....it's not exactly like we can put what's in her head into mine." He almost harped out, feeling completely dejected, broken by this one. He knew it wouldn't last, but ninth? Ninth at his home circuit, in the best ship on the grid? It felt like an embarrassment, like he was in a gully, a ditch, a feeling of his own misery.

Nothing could fill his mind more. No amount of sports psychology, no amount of personal training, wellbeing, just about anything. High level sport was competitive, to the nth degree. And yet no matter what he had given, he felt like this hadn't been it. Silver Apex hadn't greenlit his next phase of augments, the ones they were willing to spend a fortune on, given the results just hadn't come through. And that was it. End of the road after this race. 

His agent had told him the optics were bad, but a blind pilot could even see it wasn't exactly looking good. And even in spite of a shining career at Nordic Call the year prior, surprising critics, this had been the most significant setback of his entire career. The kind that right now, he was struggling to see if he could get past. It felt horrid, tense inside of him, knowing that nobody here had his back. Peter had given up races ago, hoping for the right setup, the right configuration of his mind to click. But nothing. Not even Amy offered. She'd ghosted him, always off on her own tours, own setups, and being fiercely protective, held back from helping. 

So Callum considered his response, passing across a water bottle to him, nodding in agreement. He'd be moving onto another pilot soon. Another that would take a swing at the other half of the garage. And any chance of saving Silver Apex's title fight against not just Southern Cross at this rate, but even Al-Saqr.
"It happens, calm down mate and let's not go that far. This is a difficult seat to fill. Best you can do is go out and be remembered at your home GP. They're paying for the rest of the year, and your augments will get support for the next five. We've talked this through, that's pretty decent as offers go, and another team will want to take a punt on you when they know the ship's this difficult to tame.  Half a bad year isn't going to destroy five years of good racing." Callum knew it wouldn't be much, as Jamie wiped the tears, sighing hard, leaning back.

"And I'd trade it all for a seat. I don't get it man....I mean what chance have I got. It's....fuck, sorry." Jamie uttered as Callum wrapped an arm around him, unable to find the words, Jamie near unconsolable.
"You'll be alright. We had a few good races here and there, let's forget the bad ones and let's make this one good. Come on, Jamie, let's have one last run at it tomorrow, after that, I'm sure you'll find something. There's plenty of opportunities out there." Cal replied, letting his assigned pilot rest his head on his shoulder, knowing he'd done this years ago with another pilot, and the conversation never got easier. 

But winning was a necessity. And those who didn't have what it took went out. Cal hoped that Peter had learned his lesson, but part of him knew he hadn't, because so long as Amy didn't complain about the ship, so long as she had whatever the fuck it was that sat in her head, she'd always deliver. Even if Zygon did well today, Amy's season last year had proved that even with the team having a blip, she still found a way to put it on pole when the other teams fought. If only Jamie had done that too, Cal thought to himself.

The Canadian stood up, and dusting himself off, took his water bottle and nodded, looking to the Silver Apex ship, looking back to Cal with a glimmer still in his eyes.
"I'm gonna head to the Doctors for a bit. Get the mods checked for tomorrow. I'm with you, Cal. Let's....well, do what we can. I really hope whoever gets that seat next is ready for this." Jamie collected himself in words, as Callum took both chairs aside, nodding back.

"Good shout. And I'm sure they will know what they're in for, you know how this business is. This isn't easy, Jamie. But they'll get my backing. All the way. Same we've had, yeah? And you don't forget, I'm a call away." Callum added, as Jamie nodded, a smile coming back.

As if despite all of this, all his friends that he'd lost, all the positions, all of it, for a moment, at least he'd have something positive to remember. Cal had drilled him, gotten frustrated, celebrated that hollow podium on Luna, and pushed Jamie through what was arguably the worst four months of his life. Nothing prepared anyone mentally for it. But he'd stayed by his side, all the time, and even despite how he felt, he knew he had that at least to look back on.

"Thanks, Cal. Appreciate it." Jamie's voice returned a little, as with it, he left the pits and headed to the trailer, for what was likely a final checkup before tomorrow morning, and the race to come.


[hr]

[center][h1][b]Saturday July 1st, 2094
Circuit Gilles Villeneuve, Montréal, Canada (Federated American States) 
1900 EST
[/b][/h1][/center]

[color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Rivalry[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color]

[center][h2][i][b]Harrison Makara[/b][/i][/h2][/center]

[img]https://cdn-6.motorsport.com/images/mgl/0oODZr10/s8/heavy-rain-in-the-pitlane-1.jpg[/img]

Looking through the data in the Southern Cross pit box, Harrison sighed, shrugging.
"It's fucking like this again, biases are off. Honestly, what are we doing with the ship?" Harrison asked, Harriet pulling up the data feed on the holographic display, shrugging. The Kiwi was short, wearing a flowy tech-tee in the team's navy and yellow, the design for Canada covered in a semi-luminescent beaver pattern. Southern Cross were experts at the subtler bits of marketing, and always had an easter egg in design here or there as a nod to their local track.

"Just a bit too much aggression, Harrison. The ship wants to brake late, I know, but we are cooking far too hard into Turn 1 and 2, and that burnt us time. No matter what you did, Zygon and Amy are on fire, and then the others too figured out how to make a ship turn. They figured out our tricks. Only a matter of time, so the margins are tight. You know that. Can't just make it up on the rest of the lap, we just need consistency." Harriet replied, the blue and white haired Kiwi absolutely a punk- to a point where it almost was a comical sight, she seemed more on Nora's level yet had been with Harrison for years now. She was a prodigy, to say the least, an expert in her field in anti-gravity engines and increasingly, now as his race engineer, at dealing with the instabilities of the Southern Cross ship. While that had been the main focus Owen had wanted the team to work on, it was now at the detriment of many other things that just hadn't put them where Silver Cross were.

"Maybe. But the ship just doesn't have the same point as it did in Italy. Something's not right with our upgrades. I can't tell what though. Nora can't either, but she is pushing through it. We'll have the summer to sort it." Harrison sighed, a little annoyed at the situation- every race that went like this, he lost ground on Amy.....and Nora.

The Aussie sighed, noticing Nora had completed her debrief, looking back to Harriet.
"I feel like she's trying to prove me up or something. I get she wants this badly, and she's a fighter. But since Luna, she's changed. Like she doesn't want to talk, I think...she's struggling with it all, and doesn't want to show her feelings." Harrison was honest in how cutting he was, and well, with Harriet he could divulge that side. The Kiwi engineer nodded, diplomatic, but knowing she was always going to be a way of stopping any stupid shit coming out of his brain to management.

"I get it....but that did nearly kill her, Harrison. She's had a rough run of things, so she's probably putting all her energy into not thinking about it. And I know that management are trying to manage the media off her too. So she's just getting on with what she knows best. And what's good for us points wise, is good for the team. Don't worry about her. Even if you think your yardstick is measured against her, let's focus on getting back to wins, if she's there or not." Harriet replied, the Kiwi keeping her analytical streak going, the virtual overlay playing out of the lap, Harrison looking through at not just hers, but Amy's, and Cassie's.

"Cassie finally got a ship that finally plays ball. Where the hell did that come from." Harrison muttered in distracted notice, as he looked back, taking his coffee back into hand, sipping down a bit more.
"That she has. I guess I'm frustrated. I tried giving Amy a run to the line last year, and didn't make it work. It feels like we'll get the constructors, but I guess I want to get that top step back again. Especially if the rumours are true and Jamie's getting booted out. We might get ourselves pushed back, so anything she can do, I want to know." The Australian added, as Harriet stood up, on her own prosthetics, walking over to the ship, realising she'd have to explain this differently than she had before.

"So, up here, you know how you yank on the airbrake with your neural link? Pull the ship into the final chicane?" Harriet started, letting it play out.

"Yeah, I get it, I snap it to then slam throttle on again. She doesn't." Harrison had spotted it, but not the same way his race engineer had, coming back to the hologram on the floor tracking ships, the circuit and the deltas via the quantum-powered analytics software the tea used.

"Nora's basically just letting off throttle and forcing the nose to dip, then applying countersteer and pushing through with the ship set at total loose. Even Amy would consider that insane, Nora's using lift-off oversteer, but more than that, she's not even hitting the brakes. Analysts are going to think they know what they're talking about, just say it's a style choice because our ship still has issues on stability. Carrera do it a lot, after all. But it's not that. She is thinking that move through, every time she does it, in her neural link, it's like she is pressing her face into the floor and then peeling off it, she's basically riding through the forces and carrying the speed out when she exits to throw the ship where the AG generator is and sucker it tighter without burning speed. It's only possible because whatever it is she has in her racing past, she knows how to tame a ship that wants to throw her around and she's fighting back." Harriet started, letting it play out from her feed on the projected floor, the four projection points of the hologram showing it up. Harriet cut to him, looking across.

"She doesn't think like me or you, and that is why Amy's even looking back. And I know you're aggressive, half the reason this ship was such a wild bastard is because you didn't care so long as it got you into corners deeper. Only reason she didn't get Paul is because that Valkyrie ship sticks through Sector 2 and Zygon are running something fucking illegal in my opinion with that chassis, but in those corners, I think something clicked. Like the augments just gave her the confidence to do something else. Maybe she's more comfortable not being in her skin than she is in it." Harriet noted, as Harrison chuckled, finishing his coffee, looking outside at the rainy pit, and back at Harriet.

"You think she's taking it personally?" He asked, as Harriet put hand to chin, thinking sarcastically for a moment before pointing a finger.
"Best sportspeople do. They get told they're falling off. They decide to fight back. They thought Nora was out, and yet..."
"Here she is."
"Here she is. When the fuck's your comeback?" Harriet poked, as Harrison chuckled, Harriet shutting the hologram down, sitting back down and going through the remaining systems, shutting them off.

"When I get a race engineer that tells me not to brake going into chicanes so I can find a few tenths and try not to paste the ship into the Wall of Champions." Harrison bit back, as Harriet giggled, knowing she could throw this level of crap at him, and he'd always be back.
"Hey, your call Harrison. Don't go writing off ships now. There's already one silly bastard who is getting fired this weekend. And who the fuck's stupid enough to come here?" Harriet asked, Harrison chuckling, cleaning up his own gear, shrugging.

"Someone who thought that the Outback didn't have enough shit weather. I mean, look at it, it's hurling cats and dogs!" Harrison pointed the rain out, as Harriet joined him in looking out at that rain, looking up to the Southern Cross talisman.

"Yeah. Well, we'll get them tomorrow. Team's grabbing Poutine in town. Unless you're not embarrassed about what we traded with MMR..."

"Look, they went overkill on that, and we made a really good one. Even though Nora insisted on sweet potato fries because she's become more Polynesian than me. Well, they put pineapple in it. Are they actually high? I mean, I like Hawaiian but..."

"Jesus, that's gross, Harrison, all this time we worked together and you like Hawaiian pizza? I am going to have to reconsider all the shit we've said...that's..."

"A taste? Come on. You copied Jen Lowry's hair implants last year?" Harrison bit back, as Harriet took no shit, sarcasm flowing back.

"I still think she copied me. She saw it, and bam. Can't a lady get the chance to fly her flag?" Harriet noted, as Harrison shrugged, not going as far as that himself, even with his biolumiecent tattoos.

"It's nearly the fackin' same as ours...."

"That's true! You spending time with TetraColour?" Harriet asked, as she finished packing away her bits, getting her day bag ready with her technical kit, her tablet and her other bits and pieces.

"The big paint firm? They were talking about doing stuff with Carrera and Beatrix, but somehow they went with us. Not quite sure, but then again, they probably want to harp on about how their new range of house paints have thermal magic in them and that's somehow sustainable. I mean....it is? Ish? But I'm not totally keen." Harrison's skepticism came in, as Harriet shrugged, glad she didn't have that issue.

"What it is, keeps us all gainfully employed. And you have to admit, the livery looks absolutely sick for Australia because of them. Their logo just fits. You know, that big isohedron thing...." Harriet was a racing nerd deep down, and well, Tetra's logo was a cool one to get. The half Malay, half Indian paint company had come to the fore through older sponsorships back in the day with Zygon, but now, were one of the bigger ones on the Southern Apex ship.
"Fair dinkum, it's not bad. But anyway. Shall we get going?"

[hr]

[center][h1][b]Saturday July 2nd, 2094
Circuit Gilles Villeneuve, Montréal, Canada (Federated American States) 
1730 EST
[/b][/h1][/center]

[color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Delta Hyper: Canada Commentary[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color]

Back inside the studio, the last interviews were taking place on the evening before the crews all went home for rest, and it followed after the teams had debriefed and gone through qualifying. While the standard questions had been asked, the more traditional Delta Hyper format was followed again.

[b]"Kais, how would you say you've found your new found challenge at the top of the table, and how are you feeling about taking on Southern Cross?[/b]

[b]"Bea, how are you feeling about the rumours that Jen is being considered by other teams? Do you feel she deserves it after a long stint in Fitzroy, or do you think she could wait out to see what is coming in Fitzroy's new future?[/b]

[b]"Paul, how are you feeling about the recent string of successful qualifying stints? You seem to be able extract a few more tenths in the ship over the last few races compared to Dorian, what do you think it is you're finding with the ship this year, or are the team tailoring it more to your liking more than Dorian's feedback?[/b]