[color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Outro to Singapore[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] The commentary crew had little more to say, as Aurora wrapped things up, on the now deserted track, walking down the start-finish straight in her signature look, smell-o-vision (if it even existed) probably that of ozone and ethanol, looking to camera. "Well, what a result for Paul Mulder, but there's still a long fight to go for the drivers and constructors championship in the next rounds. Join us in Argentina as we take a short few weeks away from racing but head towards a double header, where the championship battle will no doubt get more intense. Goodbye from us at Delta Hyper, and we'll see you very soon!" Aurora beamed, as the outro played. Like that, the camera turning to the glistening lights of Singapore, the fighting amongst the ships, the blur of Paul on the podium top step, and the hit between Amy and Nora, started to play out what felt like a season that couldn't quite make its mind up on where the next twist in the round would come. [hr] [color=gold][center][h1][i][b] COMPOSITE /// CORDILLERA /// FLARE [/b][/i][/h1][/center][/color] [b]Soundtrack: [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJfpOgQcq9I]Floating Points- Falaise[/url] [/b] The laying down of track, bit by bit. Metal being bonded by drones. The sound of optimism. People moving about, engineers with machines, androids doing about 98% of the work, but a handful watching over them. This is the construction of a racetrack. The crackle-pop of rally cars in El Condor. The sound of a 5 cylinder Audi Quattro, morphing into Helena Starcross's violent, screaming 5-pot F1 car in Argentina, many, many decades back. Dust, soil being pushed up. Setting up a new embankment, with repulsons being mounted in by a bunch of UAVs. And more sparks. The roar of 90s F1 cars. Appearing in the sparks, in the metal, in the reflection back, visible. And then, the screaming whine of an AG ship. The scream of the crowd. The sparks pitching into an Argentinian fan's face, painted white and blue, blue, red and white, yellow, red, and gently turning into a blur almost rainbow like, into the hull of the Carrera Condor ship. And the sound of chanting. Almost animalistic. The tattoo of a ship on a Chilean's chest, the shirts sold by Bea Ward, Carrera merch aplenty, drowning out the Silver Apex, and then other Southern Cross merch memorabilia that followed in popularity behind it. Flares. Pyro. Chanting. Yelling. Crowds. The slow-mo shot of an entire company's worth it felt like, of fans refusing to shut up. And the scream of speed coming back, as the weld finished, revealing Buenos Aires Autodromo, made anew for AG. [hr] Sitting there in the sofa, background behind, Peter Thatcher had many things to think about to Aurora's question. "Did it go the way I thought it would? I mean, you tell me. A late swing at things." Peter replied, hearing that direct question. "Pressure is still on. Nora responded far better than anyone we thought could. And well, we're still in the constructors lead." Owen felt like he had little to add from his last time, but the point felt valid. "We're still waiting to see how our improvements put us back. Signs are promising. We just have to keep up the pace." Jinwoo coldly stated, quite the opposite to that of Sally Morrigan of NOVA, who was no doubt, feeling that pressure to deliver after the old Fitzroy resurgence that had begun a few races back. "No miracles. But things don't happen fast, well, relatively in AG, not when everyone's going 600kph and what seems quick to us, it slow to you. It's all about putting something in place. Then unwinding when we can." The smile from the green and yellow-liveried team boss was a candid one, contrasted by that of Ricky Millar, of MMR fame. "It's bit a sh*tshow." And he laughed, shaking his head, knowing all swirling rumours continued in how his star pilot would be replaced next year. [hr] [color=gold][center][h1][i][b]DELTΔ HYPER[/b][/i][/h1][/center][/color] [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Episode Fourteen: The Tango Swing[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] [hr] [center] [h1][b] Round 14 of Formula AG Friday 29th September, 2094 Practice Day Autodromo Buenos Aires, Argentina Argentine AGP 1100 UTC-3 [/b] [/h1] [/center] [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Wrong Way Up[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] Once again, the format had been changed a little bit. The sofa sat on the circuit, it seemed at a completely normal angle. You know, the horizon seemed level, the track behind it in metal, the highly advanced skyline of Buenos Aires in the background. And then, as if to piss people off, the camera suddenly tilted. Revealing the skyscrapers were the wrong way up. The entire thing was upside down, on one of the more weird points. With MAG tracking, ships were the thing that would have to cling to this, but with the right footwear, you could walk upside down. Now, having blood pumping into your head was not ideal, so a pilot suit would do to keep the blood from falling into a pilot's brain like a bottle of upturned Coke. And a hologram of Aurora beamed out, as each of the pilots from Delta Hyper took a seat, confusingly, upside down, a seatbelt handy. Without an augmented body, this wasn't really possible, so this mindfuck of a stunt for an interview wouldn't last long at all. "Bea, we're at the home of Carrera Condor! What a turnaround it has been for your team, and from your comments, it sounds like you're taking things stuff upside down. How have you engaged with the fans locally, given we've seen so much of your #FansFirst intiative? Anything to say to the fans, in Espanol?" Paul was next up. "Paul, welcome to the southern hemisphere, so to return, we put the sofa the way you might see it from Belgium! With the Junior FIAR grid not often going to circuits with the extreme amounts of inversion and MAG tracking as the cutting edge Buenos Aires circuit, what do you think you can do with a ship that so far this year, seems to be a cut above in handling?" And lastly, Kais. "Kais, welcome to the upside down sofa! We're back in the southern hemisphere, how would you say you're helping Hamid get used to the pressures of the seat? [hr] [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]La París de Sudamérica[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] [img]https://cdn.openart.ai/stable_diffusion/2f4f6e5fef2bc780fc65e1adf12bdc1586cd85d4_2000x2000.webp[/img] The teams had probably had to be careful. Buenos Aires, and Sao Paolo in particular, were not the other parts of the grid that the teams maybe were used to. Even Cape Town, once one of the most dangerous cities on the planet, had been tamed, but in South America, the passion seemed unfazed. It felt like it was just insanely built up in the city centre into blocks and towers, densely populated with those who hadn't worked in the mines, staying in they grey, underground economy. From augments to other less-legal aspects, Buenos Aires felt actually cool, it didn't feel like the "man" in Singapore with perfection, nor even a vision of equitable utopia in New Hilo. The nickname of "Paris of South America" was true, given the gloriously extravagant Colonial-era buildings, but skyscrapers, blocks and dense complexes overruled what once a sprawling metropolis into tens of millions of people living however best they could. It just felt punkish, rogue, more cyber than solar. Dirtier, with higher highs, and much lower lows. Poverty might have been eliminated, but it still felt like someone hadn't checked on the divide here. And fans of any sport, football, pelota, padel, rugby, yet especially now, Formula AG, were wild for it. Wild was an understatement. Religious, maybe. Argentina, the mocking joke of economics was still not exactly the wealthiest place on earth, but rare earths, minerals companies and new models of doing business that weren't Peronism or insane shock capitalism had actually managed to turn the script about. As climate change ravaged the equatorial regions, Argentina took on refugees, and they brought stories, ideas and another layer to what was already the rich tapestry of Argentine history. Buenos Aires, as such, didn't feel safe, but in it, felt like you could find every single microcosm of South America in a tapestry that no pilot would probably dare venture into. Too much of a security risk after all, unless someone was unhinged enough to go beyond the security perimeter and into a city fanzone, rather than the circuit's massive one. So back at the circuit, they were all getting ready, and practice would be on the cards soon. Final checks, tweaks, and a feel for thing. In the Valkyrie pit, Dorian had started tweaking away, the MAG-tracking making most ELS deployment areas absolutely wild. A physically taxing race, he checked through his vitals and circulation data, before nodding, helmet on, and getting ready to clamber in and run a lap. The feeling was one of tension, because Dorian knew while this was his final year, there was still something to deliver. Get over the line, and find a result, right in the heart of Carrera's homeland. And in the Carrera pit, Ava grit her teeth when she looked across at Bea chatting with Alistair, before returning to her own setup with Rey. They weren't talking. But they had to put on a brave face. Leon hadn't denied the two were getting more and more racy, and her loving fans were absolutely lapping it up. So she had to make a point. Prove why she was in that second seat. And wipe that smile from that Spanish fuck's face and remind him, and anyone else on the grid why she was where she was.