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9 yrs ago
If there are RPs/PM's I need to reply to- I am working on it, I'm a little overladen in life atm. I haven't forgotten about you :)
10 yrs ago
Aaand back.
10 yrs ago
ALERT- I'm going AFK for a week, anyone that sees this on here, I won't be about to respond, this is to both 1x1s/RPs.

Bio

I've RP'd for the best part of over 14 years now here on the Guild, and particularly like military settings, both contemporary, past and near future. I have even dabbled in a little more experimental RPs, as well as created a plethora of 1x1s over my time in the guild. I like creating RPs with a distinct flavour- and often shift between narrative-led RPs to semi-randomised plots.

I'm pretty flexible and try and get back to people on ideas and responses, but sometimes, I may become very busy and it will take some time till I am un-busy- though I always come back!

Most Recent Posts

Sunday 4th June, 2094
Race Day
Monaco AGP
Circuit de Monte-Carlo, Monaco
1400 EST

The Racing Riviera


Soundtrack: Polaris & Nelver - Nexus

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The launch was clean, as Amy scrambled to try and push into the first corner, but to no avail, the silver-white of the Apex ship not enough against the sheer velocity and tight feel of the Valkyrie's black and blue, Amy's lungs automatically sucking her lungs in as the ship threw itself around the corner and barely over the kerb for the non anti-gravity based racers, sticking into line and giving her a view up the climb to the Casino. Dorian seemingly had cut the line off for her to swing into, but she didn't think about that. She just thought about staying close. And the ship replied, like an extension of her brain at this point, more than her body.

Dorian was locked in. There was no distractions, no feeling. Amy prodding stupidly into Casino Square got nothing out of him as he covered the line and made it clear, if she wanted to overtake, she was going to have to smash through them both. Relationship or not, commitment or not, Dorian was feeling good. He was feeling alive. His neural link made him feel like him and the ship were one, not like how Layla or Kais or even Amy felt, but like he was in a place of trust, like it wasn't bonded but like it was an old friend, dancing on apexes and giving him what he wanted in defending and holding his line. Perhaps not as sharp as Amy, but he could lean on experience to find every little particle on track, and felt frankly, superhuman. Because even in a ship optimised, even in a feeling this good, having Amy Stirling breathing down your neck was the stuff that sent shivers down anyone's spine. There was no noise.

"No talking." Dorian uttered into comms more than anything as he roared back down Portier, knowing Remy would understand this. He would see it on the tracker, all of his vitals, his neural state and where he was right now. This was an old head, someone who had lived his past glories, for one second, deafening all the noise out.

All of the distractions, the commotion, the controversy, the problems, sackings, issues, problems, all of it. All gone for one brief moment.

All that mattered was the track that hurtled in front, from the corkscrew like MAG-enabled hairpin at the old Bus Stop that threw the ship literally above the harbour and seared down even faster, even Amy prodding had nothing to him because he was so on the optimal line, he knew she would be insane to try anything. She was brave, but not stupid enough to write off a ship even for a fight like this. Experience she had just enough of to realise that.

And it was one hell of a scene. Tussling all the way through the hairpin, the two left Paul behind, who had his own fight with Astrid.

Which, she promptly binned into the wall, trying a brave move at La Rascasse at a MAG wall, and instead near spinning the ship into a barrier, clattering carbon everywhere, and losing spaces getting drive back. The ship was limping, sore, like it the pilot itself had fallen down and clambered back onto feet.

As for the rest of the race? The commentators watched on.

"We are watching one hell of a chase up ahead, Stirling is pushing Hornfleur all of the way..."

But that kept going on and on, because they weren't giving each other quarter, but they weren't fundamentally, overdriving. The others, however, a little differently were.

The first to make a mistake, was none other than Jamie Hart, clattering into Han's ship and writing his own Silver Apex ship off, creating another Virtual Safety, before racing started once all the remains of nanite-reinforced composites and carbon were swept off track, allowing racing to continue.

And that was followed by Astrid's already damaged ship from earlier getting into a tangle with Kais, her own ship and defense poor and leading to a mistake. A messy hit that left Kais worse off than her, and Astrid managing a ship that no longer wanted to corner anywhere near as fast. She was holding up Bea as a result, and creating a train of her own of extremely disappointed pilots in traffic.

At the front, it was frantic, with Nora making moves in a manner that most still were shocked by- for such an injured pilot to come back this fast was simply impossible. But if anything was getting the commentators and the crowd going, it was Nitro Nora, who at this point, had proven that adversity seemed to be the thing that fuelled her the most. She had benefitted from avoiding the chaos, but overtaking Max Wedgewood into Sainte Devote, now that was brave for someone who had nearly died doing something similar before. She was piloting it like she was invincible, or at least, back in her own mind again.

But in the end, and in a manner that kept everyone on their edge of their seats, Dorian led Amy through La Rascasse one last time and took the chequered flag from Keira Weaver, swinging the flag in the lightening fast breeze of anti-gravity ships roaring past.






Afterglow


Soundtrack: Justice - Civilization

"Dorian, that is P1, P1 Dorian! Monsieur Hornfleur, you are Mister Monaco, what a race!" The voice of Remy Deschamps on broadcast and in Dorian's ears was finally back, as Dorian replied, his lump in his throat not clearing anywhere near fast enough for him to reply.
"Let's go, thank you everyone, thank you Alexander, Remy, everyone back at the factory, what a ship this has been, what a race! Woo!" Dorian called out, crying a little under his visor, so emotionally charged and feeling alive. This was among the greatest wins in his career, a significant one for Valkyrie, and a milestone. A proof that he still had it, despite a poor season. All the worries, issues, everything. It had all come to this, and he had found it.

Proof an old dog still had fight in him.

The cheers in the Valkyrie paddock were booming, and as Dorian rolled in, the French pilot was flooded with mechanics, as he lept into them, being frankly carried, and the entire team jubilant. The same for Paul, who got the same treatment. A double podium was a moment of pure euphoria, and while Monaco was predictable given the order, to see it confirmed and both ships coming through clean in a dirty race was testament to the decisions, foresight and commitment of the team's pilots and training, talented engineered and pains that had gone into this moment. While future races might tip the balance against, for this moment, it was Valkyrie's moment in the Monegasque sun.

Staring down, Amy had popped out of her ship, and had missed most of her team, cheerful yet wanting to go straight across to Dorian, as the team disspiated. A surprise, to say the least. But not uncommon. Dorian and Amy had fought plenty of times. This was no less intense.

"Well done, Dorian. A good fight." Amy put a hand out, as Dorian took it, shaking her hand with a dap, a grin forming on his face.

"Let me enjoy this one, no?" Dorian was ahead, already seeing the look in Amy's sweaty, stressed face, that look of she was about to say something.

"Well, you cut me off at the first...."

It was Peter that intervened, grabbing Amy back.
"That's enough. We'll talk later. And in the stewards." Peter's Irish tone cut in, looking to Alexander, looking the twin-augmented armed Principal of Valkyrie with a certain grimace. And a certain feeling that sent a look in his eye. Amy hadn't said it, but the Principal had.

"That ain't on, boyo. You trying shit you don't understand." With it, Peter pulled Amy away, to what was a certain moment of confusion, before Remy whooped again, raising Dorian's spare arm up, and yelling and screaming extremely loud in French.

This was not a moment to be ruined, this was a moment to savour and enjoy.




"How does it feel winning at Monaco?" Aurora asked, inside the room once again, Dorian sitting on the couch, dressed casually in his Valkyrie polo shirt and trousers.

"A cherry on top. This was special."

"Would you say this is the high point of your career?"

"Well, the season isn't over. And I still have plenty more races to come. This is maybe the start of things to come as we're back in Europe, at my favourite tracks."

"And what about Paul?

"Well, I saw what it meant to him. And I am so, so proud. This was definitely something I could tell he loved every second of."




Cooldown Room and Podium


The Cooldown Room felt the same tension, as the race was played out, two Valkyrie figures in there- Dorian and Paul. The elder Valkyrie pilot smirked watching Amy chase him, almost as if it was like the intro played out again but for actual, real stakes this time. And Paul holding back Astrid, and running a clean race was a delight too.

Shame about the chaos, and the absolute traffic jam in the late race that had turned it into a bore, but nonetheless, it was still meaningful. Amy had calmed down, and Dorian gave a nod in respect, one that came back from her, albeit hesitant. She would let him have this one. She would have the rest.

Dorian looked to Paul, clearing the lump in his throat with a big swig of water, rather than the energy drink the team always had.
"Well done, mon amis. This one we did good at, no? Just remember this moment forever. This is your first at Monaco. It will not be your last, and your father, he would be proud." Dorian said, a few tears running down his face as he hugged him, feeling how emotionally charged Paul was right now. And despite the off and on partnership, there was a brief moment that they got to share this in. Paul's legacy, all of it before, and here it was, continued. Marked on, in a rival and his son putting it on the top steps. There was something poetic about that.
"I am going to miss this so much. But you better make the most of it. Come on, let's go." Dorian smiled, as with that, the call came, as they all stood and with it, walked down the LED illuminated corridor, and into the open air behind the trees, the crowd roaring, a sea of yellow and grey, mostly Valkyrie fans, as Dorian put his hand to the sky and smiled for the cameras.

It was unknown if Dorian would ever be back on that top step, he was nearly 40 after all. But he had proven the doubters wrong. And Paul Mulder had proven he could hold his own at Monaco. Down below, Cassie waved at Dorian, sitting on top of her own Zygon ship in the pitlane, surrounded by dozens and dozens of reporters, VIP paddock pass holders, and the various pit crews as the champagne flew from above down to below.




Delta Hyper Interviews


The post race interviews came through thick and thin, as the rookies all got an interview of their own, caught on the way out from the post-podium celebrations. Aurora was back out again, in person with mic and camera drone.

"Paul, congratulations on third, and what an achievement as a rookie to hold your nerve on such a tight, technical circuit. How does it feel?"




"Nora, what an incredible race staying out of trouble, and back on the grid that quickly? Wow, it's unbelievable determination, so talk us through what it was like to adjust and perform?"




"Han, not the best race for Zygon today, where do you think it went wrong?"




"Bea, a quiet race from you and not from Ava either. Was it frustrating to be unable to overtake Astrid?"




"Kais, a disappointing race for Al-Saqr, it looked like you were fighting the ship throughout the circuit. Is that something from your upgrades, or just from learning the track?"




Analysis - Silver Apex


Looking onwards at the footage of the start as part of the analysis, Peter sighed, looking to Amy.

"Fine. Stewards said it was a fair defence. He outplayed you." Peter simply commented, as Amy looked to him, sighing. Dorian was not stupid- he knew the dark arts, and holding that line through Sainte Devote had made it so Amy decided to make a massive accident, or backed down. And while she wanted to win, she wasn't so stupid as giving up points against Harrison and Nora in this moment.

"It isn't good enough. We talked through strategy. Why didn't it work?"

"Why do you think? You're not in his head. He's too old for this whole pressure thing. That's why you left Paul behind. Dorian doesn't crack, and he plays chess when he's given a ship that can hold up. You did what you had to. Let's not push the issue and let's focus on what we can fix." Peter commented, Amy nodding and looking to the wreck of the other ship in the garage, and then hers, cut up but sitting in the rack ready to leave.

"Well, that gap isn't any nicer. Silverstone is next. Can't let the home fans down, can we?" Amy smirked, Peter looking at her with a certain gaze of hunger. Want. This never died in Amy, it was like it was in her blood, in her neurons, in every part of her. It didn't let up. It never seemed to stop, at least intimately when with the team's presence close. It was what drove the mechanics, engineers, designers, everyone here to that goal. Putting her on that top step, and Jamie maybe too. If he hadn't messed up again.

"That we can't, Miss Stirling. We'll do a proper debrief later."




Analysis - Fitzroy Orbital


The garage was positively brimming with positive vibes, as Jenny was hoisted aloft, whooping and hollering, for a single point to be gained was just considered beyond their wildest dreams. It felt like ecstasy, as she giggled, grinning as she came back down, still in her pilot's suit and with her glowing grin that contrasted her red-white hair. The sight of Sally Morrigan, Team Principal even cracking a rare smile, better than her usual misery given how shit things were behind the scene, definitely painted the picture, as she felt her phone buzz, the caller a frequent one once, now much quieter.

"Hello. You saw Jenny get a point?" Sally replied to the caller, smirking, arm against wall, sighing. "Well, it's a good parting gift for you. One more race I guess, Maxwell."

"One more. The new buyers will look after you. Sorry it came to this."

"Seller's remorse?"

"Me forgetting how bloody good this can be."




Analysis - Southern Cross


In the Southern Cross garage, things were much more muted, but Nora was certainly getting a round of applause as she had been peeled from her ship, clattering down in her new white and navy blue coloured augments that almost had an etheral glow to them in the LED lighting. Harrison sat with Owen looking at the data points on his side of the garage, thinking it over, still cooling down from how intense it was in the midfield following Paul.

"We're tracking well. You did the best you could with a ship that could fight." Owen put an arm around his shoulder, as Harrison shook his head, looking across the paddock at the other ship, parked up with Nora already working on her side of the garage with the mechanics that were tracking her vitals, and going through the data of her race.

"Sure, but I'm worried for her. Is she going to be alright to keep going?" The concern was not from a place of wanting to outscore her, but a genuine one. Nora had been sheepish getting used to it all, this soon after something so traumatic was near unheard of.

Owen laughed, putting a hand on Harrison's shoulder.

"You leave her to me. She's been through some serious shit, losing a leg and an arm wouldn't stop her even against the strongest advice." Owen began, peeling up the data from both of them.

"She's going to keep going and giving you trouble because she's finally been given a chance at the top level, and she wouldn't run away from it. Use it to your advantage, Harrison. It helps the team if you want to beat Amy this season, and it helps her if she wants to come back and beat Amy too. You know that fire." Owen was blunt to him, as Harrison chuckled, shaking his head.

"Since when have you been so pushing? I thought you liked a conservative approach?" Harrison looked back, almost as if to throw Owen's logic back at him.

"Well, sometimes I think we surprise ourselves when we do what we think is impossible. Let's get packed up and home. Silverstone is one you love, right? Outside of home." Owen added, as Harrison chuckled, nodding.
"Aye, I guess we've had some good fights there...."




Analysis - Carrera Condor


Ava sighed, looking across the room, seeing Bea cleaning up the remains of the media attention, of which there had been plenty. Carrera hadn't done great, but then again, Monaco wasn't their circuit.

"Congrats. Well done on surviving Sainte Devote. I saw you get caught behind Astrid. Not easy to overtake, right?" Ava commented, her feet clicking on the concrete as she walked across, sighing out hard, thinking on it all.

The revelations she'd shared with Kais hadn't come yet to Bea. She didn't want them to, perhaps was that still on her mind? She wasn't sure. And she wasn't quite sure what she'd unravelled by showing that to him. The slate was clean, that much was sure, but was she certain Layla wasn't in her head? Almost the thought of it made Ava wince inside, she had unwittingly propagated the thing she was trying to find. So if Kais found something, great. But the rabbit hole was going to get bigger. Bigger than maybe even Ava was letting on. As she came back to reality, and walking out into the Monaco sunshine.

"Still getting used to my legs. Finding my feet, as they say in English...." Ava grinned, shaking her head at that awful pun, moving inside the Carrera paddock area, Ava waving to her parents in the trailer stairwell above.

"My mother and father came out to see me. Would you like to meet them?"




Analysis - Al-Saqr


Layla sat in the ice bath again, head under, before pulling it out seeing a silhouette appear.
"Fuck." The sight of a FIAR technician caught her by surprise.

The tests ran, and once again, came back clean. Pulling the cable out, Layla nodded to him calmly, with a well practiced, well versed way.

With it, she thought about the race. The ship was twitchy, insanely so, it was as if the bond was itself being rumbled or poked at. She had felt it singing to hear, but it sounded like there was static in that, the FIAR steward leaving the room altogether.

It felt strange, to say the least, as she flickered through her glass-fronted tablet and holographic display, sending new tweaks to her, and more vitally, emails to a certain Lunar corporation interested in her new little advancements. The ship being off had certainly left a hole in her again after the race, but more and more, she was dreaming, seeing things from a very different view that even the neural link couldn't quite explain. It was like being set free of her own biology, it was vivid. More and more, it felt like this body was just a shell, just a suggestion of a person when she stared in the mirror back at her undersuit-covered body and biological hardware, that felt like it was more and more disappearing. She may not have been the most modified human on Earth, no, some freak in Japan had that figured out, but that was because they thought themselves a toy rather than...something beyond. The next step. Layla hated losing, but felt it would just take the right track, the right link, the right feeling, and she'd be there. And she could already hear the others, every now and then.

It felt like the deep end and all of it was coming into a hypercolour, as she broke from looking in that mirror.

"Kais, you next door? Actually, what am I saying, I can see you're there....." Layla forgot that of course, intrusively, the AR ping of him came through in her very eyes. Letting him finish up his bath before she intruded, and actually being dressed, she poked her head around.
"Hey. You weren't at fault for Astrid crashing into you, just so you know. But you get a lot into these things." Layla stated the obvious, sighing, looking across at him, hoping not to get her head removed from her spine. She had no backups.....yet.

"You sure you haven't got some neodymium inside of you that seems to attract idiots on circuit?" Layla may have been half machine at this point, but she was no less willing to give a little bit of banter in a moment that for Kais, must have been quite a low one, as she sighed, shrugging her shoulders.
"It was shit. Let's be honest. But this is a joke of a circuit. And hardly a place for AG ships to really show what they can do." Layla's brutal honesty was not from a place of mistrust, but absolutely, a place where they knew this wasn't what they wanted. But after Luna, anything could have gone twitchy, wrong, or mis-set. Silverstone was normal, and they'd be there soon enough.

"I might be delayed coming back to home. I have some bits to sort out first. Nothing serious, just....you know. I need a bit of time for some personal stuff."




Au Revoir, Monaco


".....that race was certainly up and down, and from looking over the highlights, we certainly got a tense fight on our hands. The championship is still certainly open, and with it, Valkyrie have punched their way back towards Al-Saqr. Over to you Aurora." Rosie's cheerful demeanour wrapped up, as Aurora picked up into the camera feed, looking on from the yacht in the harbour that Delta Hyper had borrowed for this shot.

"Thanks Rosie, and yes, we have seen quite the display today from our drivers here in Monaco. While some may say the circuit is too tight, too complex for Formula AG, the scenes you're going to see I think show there's still a beauty in our racing here. Thank you, and we'll see you all at Silverstone, where we anticipate the top teams will all be fighting for points, but if anything this season has proven to us, there's always surprises to be had. Thank you, and see you next time."

Soundtrack: Pink Floyd- The Great Gig In The Sky

The outro played, showing the fights throughout the race, Astrid's nasty scrapes, Dorian and Paul getting carried and running into their crews, the vivid ocean contrasted by the AG ships roaring along the coastline, and the iconic views of the hairpin at the Hotel where ships crawled before hurtling out at speed.

And ended with Dorian hugging Paul, and the two on the podium, together, tears still visible in Dorian's eyes.




The crews packed up, and bit by bit, the helicopters, personal VTOLs, anti-gravity ships and more conventional boats left Monaco behind, with the teams headed home.

Prep for Silverstone was not a small affair. The place was virtually a festival now for Formula AG's arrival in amidst an old farmland landscape that had been mostly been rewilded with oak, pine and wildflowers, the British countryside's former intensity turned into a landscape left to itself. The teams would return to a situation unlike Monaco, less glitz and glamour yet more like feeling the pilots themselves were the royalty, the rock superstars of the grid. Silver Apex was always a firm favourite and actually the home team, but not if other teams had something to say about it.

It was a chance to regroup, and once again, prepare for the next round, two weeks from now. One thing was certain- the track was balanced, and finding an advantage was going to be tricky, but in a way, that meant the rookies that had arrived at Auckland would now be put into a spotlight like never before, at the original circuit of Formula One, and Formula AG. If Monaco was the jewel, the heart of the sport, then a sun-baked, or rain-soaked Silverstone was the head, where the brains of this all began, and where it all started with the machines, rather the people piloting.
Port Ibex, Île de la Tempête, Reunion


Fireteam Shadow


Crowd Reprise


0630 Hours


Purna broke into a roll as soon as the arrow hit, keeping head down as Bakker caught a series of knives, and Eloise, well, Eloise royally saved his ass. Eloise had the firepower but was hopelessly outnumbered, a couple of Artemis mercs shielding Bakker as they fired on Purna's and Eloise's last known position, Sam unwilling to use his quiet voice for this reaction while Eloise heroically battled the heavy, and left a tracking arrow on him. One that got a witting reply.
"Hunt them down!" His Dutch bark roared, as unarmed, Purna was back to feet, and running, at sprint. No weapons, but then again, he had the knowledge that Bakker was trying to pull a fast one, breaking from Eloise, knowing they'd make a bigger target.
"Hawk, hellfire direct onto that marker!" Purna yelled, and with it, threw himself over a crate, out of bullets, out of range.

He moved up into the next container, a group of guards coming over, Purna returning the favour for Eloise and tripping one, yanking his F2000 back into his head and clattering the trigger, before dumping the mag and finishing up, pushing away to create a buffer. The sound of the Heavy roaring out was emptied by what was many people running from him, and then an enormous bang that was the heavy literally getting face to face contact time with a AGM-114 Hellfire missile, enough to burst open a tank, and in this case, fittingly opening a person.

Bakker did not sit tight though, and had put distance between them. FiveSeven in spare hand, he burst through the area, and before he knew it, found Eloise in position covering Purna, and was there to make his revenge.

With a push, he easily threw her into the container as he decloaked, pistol aimed to head, ahead of his men that were still in shock and horror.
"Some adventures end before they begin, new girl. They didn't teach you this in Raven." And Bakker went to pull trigger, keeping her weakened state pinned, and wanting to enjoy this.

But Purna wasn't quite out. He pushed back against Bakker's grasp on Eloise by peeling on his leg, kicking hard and dodging a knife, before pivoting with a swinging kick into his crotch even in spite of his short stature, reverse tackling onto him into the floor, before in a brutal fashion, stabbing him in his gut with his own stolen Kukuri from Bakker's side, peeling the Kukri upwards, and severing his spine in the same motion, before sliting his throat clean and simple. Bakker was a fighter, and would have known how to counter, throwing a fist, but it landed and connected to a shadow.

Purna was so full of rage, so full of whatever was inside of him in that moment, a certain kind of adrenaline that even Eloise wouldn't have expected the typically cold, calm, quiet Gurkha to have. It was a moment of pure anger, to a point where it almost looked like Purna was about to feast on the blood of him, rip out teeth and an ear while he was it. Gurkhas were known to do the latter. He had no time for sentimentality, not with this turncoat.

Exhaling hard, Purna wiped the knife on Bakker's side, the warm breath leaving his lungs.
"He knew a lot of tricks. Just forgot infiltrators work best when they're in the shadow, that one he forgot." Purna coldly remarked, as he peeled his USPs off Bakker, stolen pistols taken bacl, hearing the comms of Skye on the other end.

"“Hammer’s on course too, not a bad view this! Happy hunting Anvil, see you down there.” The voice was distinctly Skye's, and meant they were in sync with the assault. Fireteam Shadow had done their job. Succeeded, given the sheer amount of explosions in the far end of the port that had sent containers raining into the sky, and put a corvette, and any serious firepower the PLA's Naval remit here had, thus making the path significantly easier for the other teams. But an infiltration didn't end till they left the place, after all.

"We need to make a move. Best we don't hang around here." Purna commented as he dusted himself down, the rest of the explosives occupying the other soldiers, outside of the enormous explosions from both Purna's and Eloise's charges, as he took a hold of Bakker's modified MP7A2, and the mags off his dead body, reasoning it was good as a tool improvised after everything. Cleaning up, he exhaled hard, the bloodied Gurkha still trying to get thoughts into his head.

"Any ideas how we get to the launch site? Cloaking kit should work still, but they're about to have a big fight over there. We're out of explosives, so the only other place I can think of is getting to the launch site's command bunker, and seeing if we can sneak in. Soften up things when Skye and the team plan to hit it, then regroup with them. Bikes, quads, jeeps. But we have a window." Purna noted, as another explosion casually rocked the port, another fuel tanker going up in the extreme heat at the far end, and punctuating the morning's chaos that had kickstarted Raven Squad's full blown assault on Tempest Island.




Near Camp Bravo, Île de la Tempête, Reunion


Warm Healer


0645 Hours


As the lone man made the walk through the forested track, a group of PLA soldiers stepped out into his way, Shimura hurt, but not outclassed by them.

The crack of a silenced shot slapped through two of them, and before the third could turn, was filled with an accurate burst of semi-automatic fire, which quickly rippled through the last man standing's helmet, turning the group into a collection of lifeless corpses and one Shimura still standing.

Crawling out of the ditch, a rather sodden, shrub-looking Kiwi looked across at Ban's wound, shaking her head as she drew the moss and lichen off her boonie, so she didn't entirely look like a mobile tree to himi.
"You need to tell me when you've got a hole the size of a cricket ball in you, mate. Come off the road, let's get a look at ya. None of this stoic ronin shit on me anymore." She commented with a certain motherly charm, not all too dissimilar to Skye's, yet perhaps even more disappointed. As if she wasn't concerned with the fact he had been pouring blood, but rather, wanted to just get straight into fixing this.

With it, Tahlia, took a look, and started to pack the wound, whether he would like it or not. He wasn't dying today, not on her watch. Overlooking was one thing, getting up close and personal was another.
"You did a pretty decent job. So, I reckon we're a bit far back. But we might be able to at least hold up anyone else that tries to interfere. Once you're fixed, that sound good to you?" Tahlia asked, the Kiwi blunt, if not a little bit too direct, but in a situation like this, honour and nice words weren't much use, but honesty and keeping the enemy at bay were another. She couldn't do that if he was dead, after all....




Vulpine Space Checkpoint / Command Centre, Île de la Tempête, Reunion


Fireteam Hammer/Anvil


Counter Strike


0645 Hours


The counter attack was fierce. But with Adam charging in on the CAV and then mounting up on the GMG that was attached to it when he skidded to a halt, and then Sam bringing the mech, the firepower in response was significant, and allowed them to turn the tide. The PLA forces that had charged in, supported by Artemis were now being turned back, as Skye flicked a new box into the Mk46 and sprayed rounds down range, Athena single-handedly holding a flank and raining electricity that turned PLA soldiers even in exoskeletons into an acrid ozone smell.

So it meant one last assault. One last run. The far away hangar doors opening, however, were omminous. A feeling that Skye all too well knew, as she finished up, Athena dominating the battlefield and chasing after those trying to peel back and lay down more fire, Athena having none of it as she boosted onto enemies and either blew them apart with the coil, or used the sword to literally hack them up, moving far, far too fast for a heavy of her size and wasting the enemy's ammunition on her carbon-reinforced titanium armour.

"Wilk, Boaro, with me...rest of you, whatever the fuck that is over there, kill them and hold our flank!" Skye retorted, Adam bringing the CAV into the checkpoint and making it a good point for Ebrima and her to board. With a quick ride past all the smouldering IFVs and infantry that stank of burns and gunpowder, it was a rolling affair as they fired from the vehicles, mopping up enemies posing resistance on the last stint to the command centre past a destroyed set of warehouses, radar domes and R&D facilities that were in ruin. All irrelevant, to the main target itself.

They had a clean run, at least, as clean as they could on approach to the command centre. The half-buried, bunker-like complex was modern, with an enormous blown-up entry point marking where Artemis had clearly brute forced their own way in via a tunnel. It made sense to follow that route inside, as Adam peeled the CAV to a stop, and immediately raised the field generator, blasting rounds down range with the MSBS as Skye picked out a couple more troops rushing out to meet them, the combined firepower from the three and the GMG on the CAV making mincemeat of them before they disembarked and moved in.

Skye moved fluid, graceful across terrain, the red-haired, grey-exo and MTP wearing operative moving on the door, using the last of the Mk46 to spray rounds into a group of PLA mercs, running hard with an exo-based leap to almost pirouette onto the wall and back into cover, clearing the way forward for Adam to charge through and lay down a wall of shrapnel with his USAS, pasting another fireteam and letting Boaro keep his own flank going.

As Skye charged around the corner, the exo-equipped Artemis merc kicked her hard into the chest, sending her into the wall, as the other operative lept on her, knife forwards for Skye's neck, the Scotswoman instead dodging and feeling significantly weaker, using the M31 to puncture a hole into their stomach that dropped them immediately, before backing away.

Getting clattered hard, Skye was lucky to not break her ribs right there and then, feeling the carrying servo of the exo give way. She swore a very Scots swear, and shook her head, the quiet as they were about to approach the lab-like precision of the command centre, from the central offices to the command room itself, where it was suspected Zhao and Rose were hiding, was ahead.

Looking to Ebrima, she unholstered the M31, and the heavy coil pack off her back, leaving the tactical pack in place. It was an instant look of disappointment on her face, a feeling that the exo had gone this far, kicked this much ass, was no use now.
"Fuck....exo's fucked. You're gonna have to carry this, I'm afraid Boaro. Don't go too wild with giantslaying. Pull for normal fire, hold the clamp for the coil to charge then pull and it'll send a tungsten piece through anything it hits." Skye offered across the rifle, the railgun and the energy pack, as well as flicking out her mags for it- diminished, but plenty enough to do what they had to in here. Picking up the dead mercenary's VHS-02 Rifle, she knew the armour was still good for something, but like this, she was moving a hell of a lot slower, the explosion from outside rocking the structure from the pure anarchy that the heavies were causing.

It felt like as the fight drew on, everyone was fatigued, everyone was running out of the absurd amount of ammunition they had brought, and they were scavenging, foraging, and finding a way to get through.

"More hostiles, incoming!" Adam yelled, keeping the suppressing fire down, as Skye now shuffled significantly slower than before, grateful for the protection of the exo, but now not able to leap and sprint like she had before. The redhead, reluctantly, was holding back more now, like the power had been ripped from the team leader and instead, she was a little more cautious.
"On it! Wilk, you have point, Boaro, clap anything that stops us, we're getting to this bloody control!"




As the sight of the hangar doors opened in the far horizon, the figures that emerged were not exactly Athena or Freya sized, they were a hell of a lot bigger. As Athena had learned recently, getting blasted in the face by one of those was not exactly that fun, but this looked like just another level compared to Marrakesh.

"Chaos, might need a bit of help over here....." Athena's voice cracked a little, unexpected even, because even with Sam's towering bipedal mech, holding the line was not going to be fun.

"Where's your power now!" The booming call across the empty launchpad, that of Laura's mic was clear. This was not a mech made entirely for....tactical purposes? It felt more like a clarion call of someone who had bought a car, done it up and decided in a moment of insanity, to palm off the fuzzy dice and instead make it as garish as possible.

If there was ever a time for a showdown, it would be right about now. Finding a weakness would be difficult, but while two mechs versus one seemed a sure fight, with Athena, Freya, Jamie and Chuck in the play, it was at least somewhat made more even.

"Your ex-girlfriend has a hell of a fucking thing for fire, Frigga! You didn't tell me she was this fucking unhinged!" She replied, using her jump jet to leap out of the way of a massive belch of flames that roared across the massive concrete launch pad where another Arianne rocket would normally be parked, sitting in the shadow of the enormous one that still sat on its pad, payload and contents unknown. Athena blasted a bolt at the legs, watching it harmlessly clatter, cursing. Well, this was going to be plenty more difficult....
Principal's Office


Sitting in the Delta Hyper interview room, the Principals came through one by one, able to make an introduction again, representing each of their teams.

"What are your thoughts on how this season has unfolded? How has it gone, compared to your expectations?"

Peter smirked at the camera, shrugging off the fact that he really did expect more, but well, was still getting one pilot firing on all cylinders, the silver-shirted Irishman barely fazed now.
"Well, Amy is on top, and Southern Cross aren't going to run away with it to the end. We have plenty more work to do, but the ship, when she wants to, is just singing to Amy right now. Hopefully Jamie will find that in the next few races." Peter's commentary was blunt, but no less warm from the Irishman.

Owen Keating sat up, the Aussie-Kiwi originated principal coming in with thoughts of his own.
"We're not going as fast as we would like, even if we're top. But, it's all part of the plan. Lots more fast, tight handling circuits to go, and we'll be putting on the pace, and either Nora or Harrison will be challenging for that Pilot's Championship title. The momentum is behind us. We've had some setbacks, but Nora has been a champ, and we're with her every step of the way to come back to it, thanks to our help from our prosthetics partner, X+Y Composites."

Turning to Erin Becker, Nordic Call's TP, the mid-40s silver-haired half-Dane, half-German matured on her thoughts.
"It's a tough one this season. Some high highs with Astrid proving her talent in our ship, but we could have capitalised on more. But, you take the developments as they come."

Ricky Miller, MMR's Principal and son of the legendary Davey Miller, IMSA, Le Mans and IndyCar winning driver, had thoughts of his own, his drawling Texan accent dripping with racing heritage that came from decades in the sport- being in his early sixties, and running his own outfit now supported by a larger American anti-gravity ship firm that took it from a small shop to a worldwide enterprise.
"Good, I guess? Hah, this season was all about learning and we're really doing that, poking at the points when it's so compeitive in the midfield this season.

Elana Kimani, half-Kenyan, half-British Principal at SuperCat was next up, and dressed in a hyper-modern orange and yellow team liveried flowing shirt and trousers that almost fit her engineering roots more than they did a more formal looking team boss, she gave a look of introspective look to that.
"About where we expected. Kofi has been such an amazing servant to African racing, and our first points at Luna....despite the circumstances, were such a milestone for our team. We're learning, improving, and soon, we'll be up there with the biggest teams on the grid."

Then came Sally Morrigan, Team Principal of Fitzroy Orbital AG Racing,
"It'd be difficult to say it has been straightforward! We've definitely not been the same. But, I have got promise for all those Fitzroy fans out there- keep watching, we may look a little different but we're the same team and plucky underdogs as ever."




After Qualifying
Friday 2nd June, 2094
Monaco
1830 EST

La Phénix


Cassie Neves / Dorian Pascal Hornfleur


Moving through the crowd, Cassie had gone from milling around with Max to chatting to Amy, to then altogether leaving those two behind to see Dorian in quiet contemplation after he'd done the rounds with Paul.

"Congratulations. Mr Monaco still has it in the bag." Cassie raised her glass of rose to him, as Dorian shrugged, chuckling.

"Old dogs still have tricks. Could have crashed like you did last year though." Dorian gave back a gentle barb, as Cassie scowled, before realising she probably had to do better.

"You know that ship had a fucked airbrake. And there was nothing I can do. That....maybe I could have avoided from scraping at Portier." In a rare act of humility, Cassie sighed, looking over. "At least we now know Paul can do the same as I did....so long as he doesn't crash. He has a bright future ahead of him." Cassie added with a smile, genuinely complementing, Dorian nodding.

"Yeah. He has promise. He will do well in the team. Though, I wonder, who replaces me....they still do not say." Dorian replied in his French-accented English, Cassie shrugging.

"Well, I don't think I'm coming back. Not after everything. And no offense, Dorian, all this legal shit has me proven right. I know we talked but....you know my feelings." Cassie was outright with it, but that was her.

"I understand. But what do you want me to do, eh? Apologise on behalf of a bunch of people who should have been stopped by a lot of checks and balances? This world isn't perfect, Cass. You know that, look at where you are. The Formula is a game of politics, people, and you have twenty more years to go. It is always like this." Dorian barbed back, Cassie sighing as she shook her head.

"Touche." Cassie looked out, sipping more Rose down, looking back to him. "I just expected better. I just hope they don't eat up Paul either. Alexander is a good man, but he's not perfect. Even I spent enough time on the grid to know that everyone's got their vice. Everyone's got their story." The Luso-Caledonian remarked, Dorian chuckling with agreement.

"That they do. Alex has more in common with Kais sometimes than he likes to admit. But, he got us this far. We'll see." Dorian simply remarked, as it felt like this rare moment was that of rekindling, almost as if the ice was melting a little, in the warm Monaco evening.

The sound of Viagra Boys getting cranked to 11 was then responded to by what was a Monegasque harbour officer getting thrown off the Aurora Borealis who had asked it to be turned out, to the sounds of a lot of cheers as the volume went back up again to twelve. Cassie chuckled, shaking her head looking up at Dorian once more, raising a glass before going back in.

"I suppose we will. I have a few things to see to. Han wants me for a few things." Cassie remarked, as Dorian nodded, without another word traded, Cassie heading back inside and into the party.

It felt like while people were enjoying this moment, she had to really think to herself, her career wasn't exactly she hoped it might have been.




Sunday 4th June, 2094
Race Day
Monaco AGP
Circuit de Monte-Carlo, Monaco
1400 EST

The Crown Jewel


Amy Stirling


Soundtrack: Fakear- Tadlo (Ténéré Remix)

There was a feeling of static in the pre-race build-up, with everything out in full force, everyone out on the grid and celebrities milling around crews as part of the spectacle of it all.

The Junior AG racing had come and gone, with a win for Ben Hale, tailed by Alice Thovex of MMR Junior, and behind her, Olivia Lau of Zygon. While only the second race, trends were coming out that those three were starting to poke above their weight, but many many races were on the horizon, and no doubt things could change.

Amy had been clear in her goals and objectives, the Silver Apex crew checking her ship over again and again, a support drone helping out as she finished up readying up in her suit, brace attached to her neck, hair tucked into a neat tie and mind certainly tuned to things to come. Walking down the grid, she encountered Paul, who was following behind, as she turned her head to look across over at him.

"Enjoy Monaco, Paul. No heroics into Sainte Devote, unless you want to end up on an end of season highlight reel? Enjoy yourself." Amy barbed, before being pulled in by her entourage, the cliched, stereotypical line one that was barbed and full of malice. Sainte Devote was Turn 1 at Monaco- a perilously tight corner, and with good reactions, a fast start could get by with enough bravery and conviction the other pilot would back down. Otherwise, it would be a very messy crash indeed.

Clambering in, Amy heard Keira Adams, her engineer back on the radio, helmet on from one of the engineers, her silver-like pilot's suit with the addition of Martini, a one-off sponsor for this event that adorned the ship's airbrakes for this one-off occasion.

"Okay, Miss Stirling, are we looking for heroics into turn one then?" Funny there were two Keiras on the grid, but then again, coincidence had its tricks.

"Dorian knows me too well. He'll defend the lip with his life. I'll poke until his mind cooks."

"Fighting talk again?"

"Haven't had a season battle like this since Florence laid the gauntlet. Let's go." With it, the cockpit brought shut, as she felt the ship come alive, and with it, sat tight squatting against the Monagesque street.

There was a feeling of everything coming to a head, and from here, Amy was willing to push Dorian as far as he was willing to go. But Dorian felt much the same, looking back at his rear left quarter and locking eyes. This wasn't a feeling of mutual camaraderie, it was a feeling of rivalry. Amy when she was in the ship was a different animal, she may have been all about winning at all costs, but in the ship, she was someone else. And as the AI in the neural link did its work, she felt the connection tether, and the the ship almost call to her, mirroring, and bit by bit, tethering to her synapses.




Cutting back, the camera peeled back from that view of Amy looking back, back to the commentary box sitting at La Rascasse, looking down the start-straight where Rosie and Rory sat in more refined clothing than they usually had for commentary at such a race.

"And for those just joining us, welcome to the Monaco AGP, with me, Rory Andrews and Rosie Appleyard. We're watching Rosie, do you see any chances for the order being changed up in the first few laps?"

"Well, we'll see limited overtaking opportunities, but that isn't to say that pilots try when they're jostling for position, even with the circuit changes from two years ago. Monaco is a circuit of extremely close quarters flying, and requires patience, yet equal parts aggression to force moves. Keeping the ship on the track is a challenge enough, and many lower speed crashes have happened here in the past.

"And what a circuit it is. For the first time this season, we have Dorian Hornfleur on Pole, a phrase that weeks ago would have seemed improbable. While known for his prowess around here, what do you think nailed it Rosie?"

"I'd say just look at how tightly handling that Valkyrie ship is, rocking a vintage black and blue Mercedes-inspired livery from 2069. It seems to be absolutely glued, whatever the team did, they have absolutely smashed it out of the park relative to other ships. No doubt that a pilot even such as Dorian, who isn't known to be the most modified pilot on the grid, has still found it a joy to put it into first and he'll be looking to use that pace. But never rule out Amy Stirling, who knows a thing or two about overtaking here. She may be fighting that ship more, but I wouldn't put it past her to try something brave." Rosie added, playing back the footage of qualy.

It was remarkable just how tight on the kerbs and walls that the Valkyrie ship could go, not so much drifting as it was just literally falling through the slow-speed corners. This was barely a G-force attack, more of like a boat sailing through at five times the speed limit on such a track.

"Well that will make for an exciting watch at the front. Paul Mulder rounds out the top three, and has no doubt his father's legendary Monaco exploits in mind. Astrid Thorsdottir, a pilot who excels at smooth, precision piloting has put herself into 4th, and is followed by Harrison Makara in 5th, Neves in 6th, Han in 7th, Hart in 8th, Wedgewood in 9th, and Zenix in 10th. Remarkably, Nora Kelly after her horror crash is back in 11th, what a comeback for the ages that has been!" Rory added, Rosie chirping up in reply.

"We love to see it, and Nora Kelly has been so punkish in how she's reacted, it was extremely distressing viewing, but it goes to show just how incredible medical advancements have become through our sport and with new augments on her leg and arm, lovingly decorated in Southern Cross colours, she's back to the grid. She's clearly still getting used to them, but from what I heard, she was adamant she would come here and defend her points tally, and challenge Silver Apex. What an absolute warrior she is, and it's almost like when Hornfleur came back from that crash at Monaco in 2089, or when Lauda returned in 1976 from a near fatal crash at the Nurburgring, just a mentality of a pilot who wants it all."

"Well, speaking of warriors, she'll have Kais Zenix to contend with in 10th. Interesting season he's having, isn't he?"

"Of course, he's seen as the aggressive, brutal pilot on the track and he knows when to get elbows out. The opposite of Nora, he pilots like he makes a point of getting others out of the way. But it works, like at Tokyo where he really made a dent into both the top two teams with a commanding victory, and he's never one to rule out. If Layla is consistent, Kais seems to find that extra tenth, but he is learning fast what the limits of that Al-Saqr ship are."

"And much the same about Han Hyeon-Ae, who we're seeing now getting ready. Do you think she's lived up to expectations?"

"More so than perhaps everyone was expecting of Cassie Neves, to be put against such a rival in her first season, even with local backing is a hard ask. But she is consistent, and always seems to be in the points. Perhaps we're waiting for her to step up to the top step, but for what has been a difficult season for Zygon, who are clearly preparing for later this season with their upgrades with their slow progress so far, perhaps we'll see a different beast then!" Rosie replied, as Rory nodded in agreement.

"Many interesting stories on this grid this season, as we cut to Carrera Condor now. There's Beatrix Ward, down in 14th. What a story that has become, the meme queen of the grid as some have joked her to be, but she has pulled in points in a ship most wrote off at the beginning of the season. But she's proven to have teeth in an aggressive, hard to fly ship, not unlike Nora."

"It wasn't expected that Carrera would be able to make such a high profile signing of Felix Burkhart, and no doubt other teams must have been absolutely in shock over their pulling power. But, make no mistake, Carrera Condor still has a long way to go and here they look unlikely to score points. So, with the crews packing up, we're awaiting the final checks as the ships get ready on the grid, for this, the world-famous, Monaco AGP...."




The scene cut back to the interview room, the question from Aurora directed at all of the rookies.

"So tell me, what's it like in that moment? You're on the grid, ready to go. We can see through your eyes or near to it in the TV feed, almost feel the sweat on your brow and how you feel through the neural link. But what's going through your mind before you hit the throttle when the lights go out?"
Thursday 1st June, 2094
Practice Day
Monaco AGP
Casino de Monte-Carlo, Monaco
2000 EST

Monarchs


Ava Villarosa / Harrrison Makara / Max Wedgewood


With Ava backed away from the scene with Kais, she returned back down, catching the sight of Bea in mid-argument with the Princess of Monaco. Fuck, as if this evening didn’t have enough bombshells getting dropped, this was just the cherry on top of the sundae of bullshit that seemed to be flowing out of this evening. And well, plenty was on her mind. The engineer that had shared that with her hadn’t gone any further. Was it him, or was it Amy herself, who was in mid chat with Han? Or something else? Nothing was ever making any sense. But she knew she wanted a full sweep and clean of her systems too. Nothing was to be written off, and that much sat on her mind.
With Harrison and Max gracefully bringing things to a close, they at least had stopped the Princess or Bea getting into a fight. How would that work? Bea getting kicked and banned from an entire sovereign Monarchy? Well, that wouldn't bode well.

Wedge nodded, pointing to his arm.
“I have a bit of a design I’d like to work on. I had this idea, of a wolf’s head up my left arm, traditional black outline. So, I might have some ideas…I’ll drop you a message.” Max added, Harrison chuckling, putting an arm around him.

“Pfft, give him a few years Bea, and he’ll lose his arms for prosthetics. Maybe put it there?” Harrison tapped the American’s chest, as Wedge chuckled, nodding.

“Okay, well maybe it won’t waste time if I go for that. But it’ll hurt!” Wedge’s innocence was definitely batted back by the indigenous Australian, whose own peppered from his upper arms to his back, a complex and coastal-inspired design.

“Well, that’s why they’re permanent, dickhead….” Harrison poked back with an Aussie like grin, the conversation broken up by the Chilean coming into frame.

“Are you making drama, Bea?” Ava asked, a direct reply to Bea’s general state, Harrison and Max silent to the fact. She was dead serious, before cracking a smirk, looking over at the Princess, then back at Bea, barely letting her reply.

“Of course you were. I need another glass. You boys having some more?”

“While it’s on the house, sure….” Harrison replied, and with it, the conversation shifted rather quickly to getting another waitress to bring along another set of glasses to the smartly dressed group.




Layla Al-Nadir / Kofi Mensah


As Kais returned down, Layla stood at the bar with a non-alcoholic cocktail, a blood red and crystalline blue mix of berry and orange juices that was going down an absolute treat. Even her synthetic tastebuds were getting rewired to this stuff, it was like a bee drinking nectar, her tone changing seeing him and that look of the weight he had on his mind. Dressed in a burgundy dress that had a poly-coloured tinge of green to it that shone in the right light like a pearl, Layla’s integration of it with her prosthetics and her frame seemed to be like a beautiful combo of man and machine given the almost powdered colour of the gold in her prosthetics.

“Kais, are you okay? You spend a lot of time with her lately, I swear. Do not give the tabeloids anymore ideas. I understand, she is your age, but seriously, Ava Villarosa is more cold than me. And between us, she will break your heart. Though, when have I ever stopped you.“ Layla started serious, but let the ice crack, not entirely sure of what the conversation was up there, even in spite of it, Layla at least starting to get some ability to poke away at Kais’s armour. This whole thing was a massive ball, and even Layla, who hated such functions felt like Princess Jasmine herself here, in all the excessive opulence and wealth that this place had. Her mind drifted back to matters at her forefront, as she put the “Nectarine” cocktail back down.

“Listen. I’ve had….some weird stuff happen when I was in the ship. The ship is singing a bit more. But not in the way I thought it would. Not here. There were….other things I heard. It was like voices, Kais.” Layla uttered, bringing him in close.

“I think I can hear them talking about upgrades. I can’t tell why, but it was like a part of me let it in. So I think Valkyrie are pushing here hard for podiums, and Carrera…they’re not a threat.” Layla whispered, peeling him back.
“Does she know anything?” And right after Kais answered, Kofi waved, seeing Kais, waving as he jogged across, quickly breaking the coming together that he had himself, no idea of.
“Habibi, how are you? Just the man I was looking for. Forgive me for intruding, Layla…” Kofi’s usual excitement carried as Layla chuckled and played cool, shrugging as she hoped Kofi got none of that, but given how far he was, he probably hadn’t, Layla replying before he did.

“You mean the big cat sanctuary in Kenya? Where they have lions and those little African wildcats? The really cute ones?” Layla asked, even her animal lover coming out, given she’d once gotten to know the little Fennec Foxes that had been introduced around Aqaba, it giving a very different side to her deep-rooted geek.

“The really cute ones, yes. The deadliest predator in the Sahel, yes! So, I have a proposition. Al-Saqr and SuperCat, we share some technical knowledge here and there. So there was an opportunity, and given your interest, I thought to ask you, Kais, if you wanted to visit. It is a cause dear to me, and I saw you had a liking for such cats from your social media. You are a tough man, yes, but I think a fellow African would be a help. Of course, there is no money offered, but I think it would be up your street, right?” Kofi asked, the Ghanian taller than Kofi and well built, though of course, walking only thanks to his implant that had replaced part of his spine, hips and legs, a considerably low-tech version of what Alexander’s daughter had gone through. But, dressed in a black tux, the Ghanian’s beaming white smile hid nothing but respect, even in spite of that ease of being able to come across as a bit jarring.




Helena Starcross


And in the interim, Helena led Paul away, after Dorian left to see the others, the elder lady, the monarch of racing perhaps here, even in spite of her advanced age still remaining rather mobile and civil, as they chatted generally about racing.

“So you see, in 2058 I properly quit after I had twins, Lewis and Ellie….that made me finally give up. And now my grand-daughter, Mary is out here in the karts….and she keeps asking me for stories about racing while she’s sitting in the simulator. There are so many more than the ones in my biography....maybe I'll share them with you lot before I kick the bucket.” Helena smiled with a giggle only a grandmother could have, holding Paul’s hand, chuckling at the thought of what Paul was saying about being civil. He was just being polite, perhaps.

“You ought to have another drink. It is Monaco, Paul. There are literal royals and you are a VIP here. Go be yourself, and mingle. I remember every evening here like it was yesterday….and I’d give anything to be as young as you, so relish it.” Helena added, turning to him with an endearing smile, being about four times as old as her making those words come with wisdom.

“No point talking to an old lady who has no idea about these fancy anti-gravity ships. Let me know when you’re ready tomorrow and we’ll catch up, okay?” Helena put her hands into his, her skin feeling a little shrivel that came with age, as she smiled on that note, and caught another dignitary that wanted to talk to her.




Before Qualifying
Café Villeneuve, Monaco
Friday, June 2nd, 2094
0950 EST

The High Life


Kais's response got a simple nod back from Aurora, the straight-talking Egyptian cutting little imagination in what he meant.
"Sounds like you're laser focussed on the racing, and we've come to expect nothing less. What does the rest of this season look like for Al-Saqr, and how are you all feeling about the title chase?" Aurora poked, prized a little with that question, but then again, in the cafe setting, those things could be done.




So too, did Bea's response from Aurora, highlighting her marketability and her activities.
"Well, that stacks- your popularity is certainly getting many talking, and we've heard about Carrera's big marketing push here, it seems like your face is everywhere on the grid." Aurora replied, hearing her next reply after her next question about Daniel.

"Well, we thought you would say that it seems to have a way of happening....we may have sent him an invite." Aurora casually pulled a Dr Phil level intro, as out of the back, Daniel waved, jogging into set.

"Beatrice! I am glad that was the response." Daniel chuckled, the brown-haired, 30-something WRC driver having the camera cut to him, as he raised his cup of coffee, waving to the camera.

"Well then! Daniel, what are your thoughts on Bea so far?"

"A natural, showing that bravery and she deserves that seat. Perhaps not title winning WRC material, but....she seems to be rather good in a ship. Shame it is not a Valkyrie one, but hey, it proves that four wheels can still translate to a ship!" Daniel replied with a characteristic lip given his involvement in testing Valkyrie ships as an affiliate, looking back to Bea, as Aurora chuckled.

"Well, many wondered what a rally driver in an AG ship looks like. We know the rumours about your tentative interest Daniel, but Bea, what would you say the biggest learning curve was for you?" Aurora asked, the rally aspect in full focus in the place where the calendar began.




And Paul, well, he was gushing out too- a lot to take into account.
“Lots of people to thank! It sounds like you're in a good position to do so this weekend, a lot of positive talk about the Valkyrie chassis suggests that your team are the frontrunners here." Aurora opened, knowing that was quite an obvious one to point out, but still, good for the fans at home to realise.

"After your tussle with Amy at Portimão, do you think you'll be tested? Many pilots talk about that psychological pressure of her being behind you- what's your method of dealing with the pressure?" Aurora asked a pretty expansive question, but once again, knew that was how you got an insight that was more personal here.




"What does Monaco mean? It's....well, it's the most prestigious race of them all. Maybe a bit cliche, sure it's impossible to overtake, the track is bumpy and that impacts the anti-grav setup, it feels like you're in a conga line for most of the race, it hasn't got any strategy nuance...." Amy listed, as Harrison cut in next.

"But it is good fun. I mean, this is a circuit of pure commitment. The walls are close, and even with a repulsor setup, any mistake is an instant hit to speed, or worse." Harrison's thoughts were poignant, given the crash, and given how stupidly close quarters the circuit were, hit about right.

"Yes, it is special, so special. I love it here. My absolute favourite." Dorian replied with a smirk, cutting to the next in interview.

"Our little slice of luxury. And where I look suitably dressed!" Henry replied, chuckling with a reply as best as he could, as Astrid cut in.

"A really, really good yacht party. The racing I suppose too." Astrid mused, chuckling, the almost fluorecent purple shirted Faroese pilot all too aware of what it meant here.

"A chance to push our ships in a place which barely makes sense. And we were on Luna two weeks ago where I think it was easier..." Layla replied with a bit of thought, as Zygon's punk joined in next.

"A place full of rich people and so much money. It is insane really...." Cassie said a bit of discomfort out loud, but no doubt, was not alone in saying that, and pointing the obvious.

"Excess, but beauty, truly, this is a wonderful gem and a piece of history." Kofi smiled, Max in the seat after following.

"Yeah, it's pretty historic. Really tests our handling!"




Round 7 of Formula Anti-Gravity
Friday 2nd June, 2094
Qualifying
Monaco AGP
Circuit de Monte-Carlo, Monaco
1400 EST




In the commentator booth, Rory and a new voice covering for a rather poorly Rosie, Florence Mason, of Silver Apex fame, were watching away as the first of the AG ships got roaring out. One by one, they would all peel out, and start a lap of the legends, on a circuit that resembled something even tighter than the go kart track they’d all been on in the Algarve.

"Welcome all to qualifying at the Monaco AGP, where we join our 20 pilots at the Mediterranean Sea, and where placement means everything. Fasten your seatbelts, as we’re about to start watching some of the tightest, most impressive footage of the year here in Circuit de Monaco. Florence, how would you describe it around here?”

“Hah, well thank you for having me, but yes, this circuit is gruelling. It’s a real test for the pilot, and I think karting in Portimao was honestly an easier move than here. It's so tight in an AG ship, so I am sure we're going to be seeing our pilots give it everything."

"Thank you, Florence. And first up, Henry Fitzroy is on circuit, and launches his flying lap..." Florence announced, as the qualifying session began. This one was critical- and in some ways, the race was nearly set on this, outside of some insane overtakes.

Pushing to Limit






Soundtrack: Everything But The Girl – Blame (Grooverider Jeep Remix)

Sliding in, Dorian adjusted the plug within his helmet, clicking his neck as he felt all the systems and the ship come alive, an extension, a piece of him, the black suit and blue-striped, carbon-black like ship a special livery that he remembered on the old Mercedes cars that he raced against in F1, but never against. A thumbs up from a tech and the canopy came down, as did the harnesses, the interface lighting up and making him feel linked in.

Every single training session, the gym, the mental training, the breathing sessions.

All of it came to now, the ship gently cruising along the Monaco streets, barely meters on each of the ship, the replsor arrays feeling quite strong through every single corner. It felt like the ship had to sing through them, but perfection demanded knowing what was going.

"Okay, Dorian, status." The voice of Remy Deschamps was a cool one, the French race engineer chiming in.

"We are good. Unit is online, all systems green, ready to go."

"Okay, Mr Monaco, as you command." And with it, the crew emptied and Dorian peeled the ship out of the hangar, peeling tight along the impossibly thin pitlane, holding at the red light. As the speed of the last ship buzzed by, Dorian readied up.

And peeling out, the ship racked through the corners, slowly, building up the ELS charge, the ship practically fizzing with the stuff. With a neural link, the feeling in one's body was like static electricity, almost like the ship was a golden retriever being held back by a very tight leash, just wanting to leap forwards. It was slow, but Dorian took it in, checking lines, repulsor sections, and basically, getting ready to put down a hotlap. Monaco was a skill in an F1 car. In an AG ship, it required superhuman traits. And even being older, Dorian still had experience on his side. He knew where you could cut tighter. Push harder. And the ship was so stable it felt like it virtually seemed impossible to lose traction in without wanting it to, or at least, it felt like it did precisely what Dorian could almost dream. He just had to think and it did, and his brain kept up due to how smooth it was.

And then, with La Rascasse cleared, the voice came through.
"Track clear, go time, Dorian."

And with that, the acceleration peeled Dorian in the back of the seat, roaring through Sainte Devote through the tiny camber of MAG tracking that stopped the ship slapping into the walls, flat and the needle like precision pulling through Casino Square's slightly angled MAG track, but not enough to hold off the bumps that clattered the ship before Mirabeau, Dorian thinking and peeling hard on the joystick to basically throw the ship 180 in a manner that looked more like going sideways, rather than relying on total grip. It felt planted at the front, but the sheer force threw the thing around like it frankly was on skates, and then, of all the corners, came Grand Hotel, the world famous hairpin where for a 600kph capable ship, it slowed down to barely 80. It was stupid, a massive bank of MAG tracking not allowing for a wall ride but simply to dissipate the energy, the airbrake at full deployment and suckering the ship to the inside of the corner, the MAG tracking allowing for throttle out before a hard shank right came under a advertising hoarding and the fastest part of the track- a perilous MAG track over the Med, adjacent to the Portier Tunnel that was wide enough for overtakes but only with the right line, ELS deployment and absolute sheer bravery that it took to not bin it here.

And coming out of that into a gentle right back on the original course, the old Bus Stop chicane was replaced by a straight-up, straight down corkscrew that was amazingly, taken flat but churned the lunch in any pilot's stomach into sick, a long, yet acute hairpin-like corner that then slapped into tarmac and then led into Tabac, Piscine and the insane left, right, right, left that ships had, spectators watching as ships as maximum grip rather than repulsion, the generators at full compression here skating through before slamming on all brakes and going from 150 to 50 in an instant for a La Rascasse with a slight banking on it of MAG strips, then leading into the start finish, the MAG system at full chat and unwinding, the ship nearing top speed thanks to the sheer pulse out of the corner, coming barely centimetres from the barrier as he slammed the brakes and finished the lap.

Dorian felt the weight of the pressure slip out as he exhaled all the pent up carbon in his lungs, the radio crackling with cheering.
"P1, Dorian, that was a hell of a lap! Where did that come from.....standby for others."
There was a palpable, if not sandpaper like feeling in the grid even if you weren't in that fight. Amy clambered out of her ship and was immediately going to the techs after her final run.

Jaws would open once Dorian got back, and the process took a while, but the remainder of the laps revealed that his time hadn't been beaten.



Canopy open, the cheers were noisy as he loosened up the complex harness and stood up, punching the air, clambering over and leaping down the stairs into the hugging arms of the mechanics, who rushed the ship's static position, fists raised, because the results were a dream. This was Valkyrie back on the top step. An expected result, but the ship felt so much tighter, almost ridiculously so here at Monaco and it felt like the best he’d had all season for this circuit.

"Let's fucking go, come on!" Dorian yelled, leaping down, giving finger guns to Alexander.

“Boss, thank you for that ship, that was on rails!”




With the end of that, Dorian sat in the Delta Hyper sofa again, thinking in retrospect about what it meant.

"It was the greatest lap I think I ever did in Formula AG. We had so many problems, so much going on, you know....and in that moment, it all faded. It felt like I was home again." Dorian replied, Aurora smiling back. An older pilot, on his way to retirement setting pole at Monaco in his last race there. That was a story and a half.

"And did you think it was a legacy of Felix, or anything else that helped?" Aurora poked, knowing full well the influence of the previous designer’s influence on the handling and stability-obsessed Valkyrie ship.

"I am not sure if it was that, but it is always a combination of factors. It was the best feeling ever.” Dorian replied, a smile cracking across his face, as the remainder of the results trickled in.



After Qualifying
Friday 2nd June, 2094
Monaco
1800 EST

La Phénix

Amy Stirling


Soundtrack: Stardust- Music Sounds Better With You



With Qualy over, the circuit was put back for the extremely limited traffic that now skittled through Monaco’s tight city streets, cars being virtually banned here and replaced by e-bikes, scooters and gravboards, not to mention the AVs that came into the old heliport now and whisked VIPs away to Nice or other luxury hotels along the coast.

It was mostly a period of debrief, refocus, and change. Then, the parties, into the late afternoon and early evening night.

Most had ended up going to Amy's boat, even if Astrid's was one hell of a drunken shitshow, because Saturday was a day off and well, Friday qualifying at Monaco was a spectacle to end things on. Some pilots may have liked to have done better, and Valkyrie was frankly over the moon- Felix’s old design mostly contributing to a ship that went around the circuit like it was made of gorilla glue, and controllable enough for the pilots behind them.
So instead, clambering out of an old wooden-embroidered speedboat, Amy looked back to the camera drone, Delta Hyper invited to this party on a boat.

"Welcome to La Phénix. So, you’re wondering how a Monaco yacht party works….it’s very simple. Lots of French house music. A lot of good vibes. Sponsors there getting interviews, and well, it’s a little more loose. So, Delta Hyper, you get a little insight on what we have.” Amy narrated to the camera, because for those at home, seeing the other side and the riches of something this was not often on the cards.

And here, there was a bit of a freeform for the pilots to arrive, chat and mingle. Amy was the centre of attention, as were the two actresses from Raven Squad, Madeline Mercer, the sequel of which everyone was direly awaiting later this summer, as well as Keira Weaver, who Bea was no doubt going to fangirl over.
If there was ever a moment that highlighted the contrast, Raining Blood by Slayer could be heard at full volume followed by someone getting thrown off the top deck of Astrid’s yacht, followed by yelling, mostly Astrid being absolutely shitfaced with a whole bunch of Nordic Call and Fitzroy staff.

It was mostly an act with her, she played on it heavily as the drunk Finn / Faroese of the grid as a gag, and sure, the bio-sciences background that she played with as a second hobby to her racing evened her out with a level of seriousness. Yet there was no denying, in a place like this, with a booze cabinet like this, Astrid went absolutely ham and Nordic Call’s “Borealis” yacht, a borrowed item from the CEO was too good not to clown about on. Most had therefore gone to Amy’s, though of course, they would be able to pop over there to what was basically a frat party on hull.

“I know, that’s an exciting party too. But nothing FIAR approved is going on there, ok? I mean….this is a little more…civil? Ish?” Amy shrugged, as the DJ queued up more French house, more bottles of cold beer, glasses of wine and cocktails were about, as were snacks and treats.

There was an overall vibe that this was probably as vibey as it got, yet still just about civil. In here, it was probably the best opportunity each pilot had to interact with one another before the race, talk to sponsors, other staff, and enjoy the last moments they had before the race on Sunday. That was right- they had Saturday off to chill, enjoy the sunshine on either their yachts or their accomodation, do sponsor activities or chill out. Many would still be preparing the ultra-efficient ships for the ultra-tightness that made up Monaco, but of course, now qualifying had been set, all eyes were on how Amy would want to chance a move on Dorian, or perhaps how Paul could shock everyone if he pushed on both. Or maybe how Astrid might take advantage of a chaotic crash, like last year with Cassie's big shunt.
Bumping this RP! We have been successful and there is lots of lore, but dive in if you like the sound of this RP!

For anyone who is keen, we have spots at the following teams for either and/or a team principal at the following:

Nordic Call
SuperCat
Fitzroy Orbital
Bumping this RP! We have been successful and there is lots of lore, but dive in if you like the sound of this RP!

For anyone who is keen, we have spots at the following teams for either and/or a team principal at the following:

Nordic Call
SuperCat
Fitzroy Orbital
Enzo "Santi" Laste Valenzuela


Somewhere outside the Compound
Africa


Condor's Overwatch


With Santi popping the drone up, he brought his NVGs off and switched to an FPV set of glasses, using them over a tablet in the night and clipping them. They were a little less light-polluting than the tablet would, be especially in the night. And while the regular camera would be useless, the thermal imaging was about to be extremely useful.

Sitting down, Santi used the blacked out tablet and an adapted joystick to take the drone above the forest canopy, whizzing out of sound and keeping a low orbit. Equipped with a FLIR thermal imaging camera, the drone worked in white hot, with Santi flicking to black hot to make out the buildings and structures in depth and detail better. He took a good amount of time to take it in, making a survey through the small quadrotor.

"This is Condor, drone has eyes on compound. I have two four-man patrols, northern end and southern end of the village making sweeps. Armed with AKs and an RPK in each group. Looks like they've got a Hilux with a DShK on the back of it and another one without it. Most of the village is lights out, asleep. Truck with an HMG wasn't in the plan." Santi described, bringing the drone around for another sweep, clinical now, and making acutely aware his discomfort of such as large gun being in the village at this time. Inaccurate as it was, it fired big rounds, most of all, rounds that would penetrate clay.

"Eyes on compound internals. Two guards on the gate, looking distracted. No sightlines to anyone else. Two more men by a fire inside, which means that it leaves the rest inside. No view on that, garage is open and looks like they're missing guards at the side gate." Santi called out, looking at the lay of the land.

"Confirm on CCTV on the buildings, in the locations identified from earlier. They're all as described. They look like they have significant deadzones, cannot ascertain their angles but it looks like you can avoid them once spotted." Santi called out, zooming in with the FLIR, watching for anyone else, steering the drone around another angle.

"Looks like another pickup truck in the compound itself too. Still hot, it must have been running so either they have less, or more skinnies inside." Santi added, adjusting his helmet a little as he kept the drone in loiter, popping off his goggles and moving at a brisk jog towards the team, keeping tail end covered, avoiding separation.

"On station if you need more intel. Looks like a quiet night for us. Not unless that MG opens up." Santi uttered into the comms, flicking off the glasses and putting the drone in a higher position on the opposite side of their angle of attack and as high as he felt comfortable putting it, aware he would need it on station to monitor activity. He networked it to his phone, placing the device on a holder on his chest rig, allowing him to flip to it and flip out, and giving Megan and anyone with the frequency the same.

Santi felt prepared, ready for this. The team was made of professionals, and while they were more geared, probably more experienced in conventional warfare, Santi already felt like he had a feel of this warzone.

The eye in the sky watched, and with it, all enemies outside were on sight, and seen, the ones that at least Santi could get to. Condor struck again.











Productive and Industrious


Soundtrack: Icarus- October

In each factory, prep for Monaco, after unpacking the spaceplanes was near immediate. Formula AG had weeks to go till the Season Break, and until then, the teams were in full force.

Everything from product design to part production was covered. The sketches in holographic aperture, to then the process of milling it via 3D printers, or via raw materials, and then sculpting it into perfection, a cut across all the teams displaying advancements, modifications and changes to come. A montage of engineers, doctors, designers, and everything inbetween, getting to high tech, cutting edge racing performance.

From Valkyrie’s new chassis, built in an even more strictly enforced cleanroom, where it then got sprayed in the new colours for the team, to then the attachment of parts. Pilots going through changes to the neural link with the new parts, like getting used to a new limb, the factories and design centres, alongside associated CFD and wind tunnels, bit by bit, the hives of each of the team’s factories, associated campuses, engineers, bots, pilots, piece by piece, bit by bit, came together. From sim sessions, to neural tweaks, the world kept turning after a horrific crash. The clocks ticked, as the forces that acted behind the scenes assembled the ships for the next race to come. The one that required the opposite of Monaco's problems, where friction was back but the corners demanded all of it for rotating the ships through them.

And for Nora, it would be a new dawn. Waking up with new limbs, and getting used to movement, let alone the concept of racing again. But as they said in the 1980s, they had the technology. And that they would to get her back in, if she desired it. Media was tight lipped on that one, but the press had gone a storm with the crash, and safety had been raised. FIAR had kicked up a stink, and vowed it would never happen again, not with repulsors and Earth-like gravity being a known factor. Monaco was a lower speed circuit, and the risks were controllable, manageable, and after the virtual Pilots Forum, had been given the go-ahead.

So everyone was preparing, and gearing up. Teams heading to Nice Airport and then shipping their goods on the French Riviera, towards the Jewel of the Mediterranean.




GLAMOUR////RISK




Casino de Monte-Carlo, Monaco


Dorian Pascal Hornfleur


Soundtrack: Hybrid- Tunnel Vision

The black bars widen, as Dorian clambered out of the 2014 Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Blackbird framed in front of the Casino de Monte-Carlo, a nearly priceless car at this point, dressed up in a fine dark grey suit, with yellow stitching that just made the outer jacket pop a little, albeit was humble enough to not go all gaudy and be too much.

“Welcome to Monaco. Glitz, glamour….and glory.” The voiceover is distinctly Dorian’s, with a French accent as a valet takes his keys, Dorian more the image of Bond, rather than Dorian Pascal Hornfleur, racing driver. But we’re in for this narrative. A fun little sideshow, as he walks in, the concentrated, opulent luxury of the Casino before him.

“The mission is simple. Win the biggest race of them all. With a ship that turns and does so with poise, faster than anything before it.” Dorian does not hide any indulgence in this. Oh, this is hints of spy thriller, because everything here bleeds it. The cameo, if you happened to spot it, was that of what appeared to be a certain actress from Raven in discussion with an enormous, hulking seven foot figure that even would have scared Kais who was a bouncer here, her look fierce but keeping the ruffians out. Apart from him, now on the floor.
Dorian walks through a small crowd, the camera catching the crowd to his side, at a roulette table, watching.

A croupier lays out chips, and the ball rolls inside a roulette wheel, the wheel spinning, spinning, spinning, the camera above it facing down at the wheel….

Revealing a 1960’s Lotus F1 roaring round the circuit at its own multi-spoked wheel, roaring through the unsafe, primitive Monaco circuit chasing after a Ferrari, cutting back into animation in a cel-shaded fashion as it fades out back to Dorian’s voice, and cutting through history in the various forms of animation of the glory days of Monaco.

“It is a glory reserved for few. And fewer repeat wins here. This is one of the Triple Crown, one of the most famous races in motorsport. To do well in Monaco is to be the ultimate pilot. Drivers like….Fangio. Senna. Schumacher. Hamilton. Starcross. Mulder. Lipponen.”
Dorian found his place, namely, a Craps table, with dice already in play.
The dice roll, and in them, the reflection of the races before. Verstappen winning, then the glorious fight between Starcross and Lundstrom, and lastly, Amy taking the top step last year, as the dice clatter across the green in that fade. That clashed with her voice coming back.

“Stirling. You did not think it was that easy to stop me, did you?” Amy sat across the table from Dorian, wrapped up in a beautiful silver dress, absolutely framing her like the villain that she portrayed herself as, simply a siren out here and as unblemished, platinum hair just adding to that effect. She shovelled chips across the table, clattering twice with her metal nails at the end of her prosthetic hands. The chips fell, revealing Silver Apex’s logo, holographically growing. She was playing the villain.

“A bold call, Madame.” Dorian noted, as Amy shrugged, the lack of care acted phenomenally well, given she was experienced at it.

“Well, you wanted a game. Let’s have one, Monsieur Hornfleur. We appear to have the same mission.” Amy shot back, and Dorian with it shoved a big pile of his chips into the middle, with Valkyrie’s logo to boot across them. He smirked back and nodded to the croupier, looking back to Monaco. And with it, the montage of previous races coming back, as did his voice.

"Monaco is a different game to most. Here, it’s not just about speed….it's about style, precision, and knowing exactly when to make your move. Every turn here is a calculated risk, every lap a dance with danger…every overtake, an all in." Dorian’s voice replies as if back to the audience, charming as ever.

Senna’s Golden Lap in 1988, screaming with a V6 Hybrid taking more risks than humanly thought possible, to Starcross nailing it in the rain and pulling off three overtakes, to Dorian’s own triumph almost a decade ago, and then, Amy’s recent victory with a smashed up Valkyrie ship, badly hit with Cassie Neves herself last season sobbing as she clambered out, and then cut back to Florence Mason being thrown into the pool at Piscine, from her head-mounted camera, then dropping into the water, bubbles rushing up from her point of view and fading gently. As the music dropped back, the scene cut into the Casino table once more, and the look of Amy’s fierce response.

“Then let’s find out how far you’ll go.” Amy shot back, her metallic-carbon arms leaning on the table, head turned to the croupier with expectancy.

“No more bets, thank you.” The croupier with it threw the dice, and the scene cut back to the present day, burying the camera into black.

The scene shifts, panning slowly to the gleaming pit lane of the Monaco AGP. Under a canopy of neon reflections in the Monaco evening, the high-tech AG ships stand ready—a fusion of advanced carbon composite engineering, in each tiny bit box, which was interrupted by that iconic whine. Amy and Dorian's ships raced side by side towards Sainte Devote, and back up the hill, rushing past the Casino itself, no guardrails in place, blasting through the hairpin at Fairmont, and beyond the tunnel at Lavotto onto the glass/metal fusion of MAG tracking that sat right above the water, Dorian in the hunt for Amy, like some sort of chase from a thriller.

Their craft, glowing under the moonlit sky on the Monaco circuit as if it was literally after the game of Craps, mirrored the duality of Monaco itself. A suave extravagance that just oozed history. The camera cuts to a wide shot of the circuit as they race through the tight section of La Rascasse, the shimmering Mediterranean as a backdrop under the moonlight.

A contrast to the daytime race, but no less elegant, as the camera cut back in to the casino, the dice stopping in place on the table with the outcome unknown, but the camera pulled back from their reactions.

And across the room, leaning against a balcony looking down on it all, there was Helena Starcross herself, in her black dress, the 80 year-old, elder stateswoman of the sport. Her skin was remarkably well looked after, her look of someone who must have been 30 years younger than what some would have imagined. A lifetime of G-forces hadn’t ruined her charm, and she had refused to age. Medical technology at the right price, of course, ensured that without ruining her look entirely, she had many more years to go. A great-grandmother now, but still completely enjoying her little cameo in the sport.

“In Monaco, legends are made. This game is played with more than chips, those two fight, but it’s …more strategic than that. The race is set by the most important qualifying session of the year, where finding your state of mind matters more than anything else to find what cannot be found. Ultimate victory or heartbreaking failure….and win here, and your lap will echo in history. Winning here is like nowhere else.” Her voice sounded nearly regal, as she turned to the view outside, the harbour and the hover-yachts clashing against more traditional superyachts and old-school harbour buildings alongside state of the art, ultra-decadent design sitting next to it shimmering in the moonlight.

Welcome to Monaco indeed. In a world of reduced income inequality, with billionaires paying their taxes, the multi-billionaires wealth was a little more difficult to find. But it partied here, and it played on the tables of Casino Square.
“Time to see their hands.”




DELTΔ HYPER


Episode Seven: Roll of the Dice





Round 7 of Formula Anti-Gravity
Thursday 1st June, 2094
Practice Day
Monaco AGP
Casino de Monte-Carlo, Monaco
2000 EST




Soundtrack: Cream- Sunshine of your Love

As if to repeat that scene again, the pilots were all inside the Casino just after sunset, the function decidedly more private, and exclusive, kept up to things. They’d all arrived in ultra-exclusive AG luxury cars or older luxuries, and it was almost a point of ritual process that you drove into Casino Square and left the valet the keys to whatever you had come in on, or at least, were given VIP treatment and driven here. Or, of course, you could cycle in, or do something else....after all, traditions were traditions, but you could always stay extravagant if you made it your own.

Most races were of course, an elegant affair, but Monaco, that was something else. It felt like the Pilots were among Royalty, quite literally, and mingling at the most extravagant place that didn’t feel tacky or forced, like Dubai or Jordan. It felt like it couldn’t be more opposite to Luna and Silverstone at the same time, this circuit being so stepped in history and heritage that while it functionally produced poor ship-on-ship racing, it did produce magic for the sheer spectacle of how close the ships went to the barriers. From bankers to Nobel Prize winners, literal old aristocracy to legends of the scene, quite the variety were here.

Mingling around, any pilot would have come across something a bit different- unlike the yacht parties of tomorrow, this was formal wear, champagne and a post-dinner function, suits and dresses a must. Every piece of this screamed elegance, and unlike tomorrow, plus ones weren’t really on the list. Not unless you were royalty, either Albert II’s descendants or literally Helena Starcross, who had been in attendance and spoken a bit about the history of it with the Prince and in particular, his rally-driver daughter as part of the evening’s entertainment.

Quite a place, and no sponsors were in sight, it felt just like a ball that had a strong smell of biofuel from the pilots here, after practice, hosted now in the late afternoon and near sunset glow. This was for them, and a pure mingling site, with even a few Junior AG pilots in attendance among the legends of the sport. The lap, on the traditional Circuit de Monaco had a big corkscrew-like hairpin with MAG tracking after the tunnel section (side-stepped with MAG tracking due to the ships scraping the roof in 2082)- the only overtaking zone outside of something insane like Sainte Devote or the hairpins. You would have to be borderline psychotic to overtake there.
But it wasn’t impossible.

Monaco always had surprises, but the glamour, the absolute peak of the opulence of it, from the cars, jewels, clothing and feeling, was on display here.



Wondering over, Harrison found the sight of Bea, Harrison dressed up smart with a black tuxedo and bowtie, embracing his cheekie-chappy personality as ever, even in total formality.

“Hey hey, superstar! You are doing numbers on socials right now, you know?” The Aussie cheerfully smiled, knowing he'd kept up a good relation with Bea since. Then again, not many people really hated Harrison. Even Amy, for all her faults, still had a playful rivalry that wasn't borderline murderous.

“Italy was amazing. I was going to say, after that, my phone is ringing off the hook, and bloody hell, it even convinced Owen to go easy on me with risky stuff. You seem to be the common denominator for all this thing on the grid, you know….” Harrison asked, knowing more sponsor events would follow. And Bea was positioned for that. Her and the team were spending big here on sponsorship features, press and so on. Maybe it would mess with her race training time, but Carrera were clearly making a statement in Monaco, perhaps as much as the other big teams were. And Harrison just wanted to make sure he was around a cut of it.




Amy on the other hand, had found Han, a rather unconventional pairing, but the conversation had seemingly brought them together here, as the silver-dressed, blonde hair having, diamond earring-lobed champion breaking the ice that was the Zygon pilot, glass of Prosecco in hand.

“Hey, Han. Pleasure to meet you. I suppose I did not introduce myself very well outside of our antics on track.” Amy’s fluent Korean came without the use of an Earworm, given her own origins- her mother being from Busan had given her the half-Korean side to her British origins. "Perfect in every way. Your face up on billboards. I know how that feels. And the future to come.” Amy chuckled, shaking her head, looking across to Cassie, who was chatting with Kofi at the moment.

“I suppose it is tricky having an outsider in the team. I had it with Cole Marnier, right before he retired at Zygon. Quite the character.” Amy added, looking her up and down, getting that feeling of superiority. So Amy didn’t pretend she could outdo her. She simply just gelled into her method. Her weak spot.

“I won’t ask about how you play the politics. You’re far too smart for it. But….from someone who was in your position, I just wanted to say you are doing well. Some of them, I imagine you’ve figured out who, might not be the most competent. Between us….” Amy whispered, leaning in.

“How Jinwoo is there is beyond me, and that was back then. You’ll get better because they'll make him retire if where you are is continuing, and someone who’ll look after you properly. And you deserve that.” Amy uttered, knowing her own beef with the TP back in the day- and sensing that she could be blunt with Han here. She was of Zygon in years past, after all, and knew how the machinery on the inside worked. She hadn’t been cast far from it.




And last, a certain Helena Starcross, in much the same black dress as earlier followed alongside Dorian, who she had been chatting to. A friend from a while ago, and given she’d broken away from talking to the literal Prince of Monaco, who was in amongst the crowd.

“Ah, there you are, Paul, this is Ms Starcross. This is my team-mate.” Dorian beamed, knowing it was more likely than not Paul would be a little starstruck by this.

“Oh please, call me Helena. Good to meet you. I remember seeing your father race when I was a pundit. He was so good. Looks like you’re living up to him from what I read. It’s a pleasure.” Helena seemed contemplative, comparatively, slow, but her Northern accent and her PR-groomed charm had given back to her original playful self, humble yet regal. She had no neural link, but that handshake she gave Paul would send a feeling that he was talking to someone significantly older than him, almost four times his age. She was older than Mabel which you could tell in the little details beyond her skin and body that had been kept incredible well in shape. Helena seemed like she was moving around completely normally, fit and healthy of mind even- like decades hadn’t mattered.

“Paul, Helena says she wanted to do a piece with you on the ship’s design. On heritage. Would you like to help her out with this tomorrow after qualifying? It may take up a bit of time from the party, but if not, I am sure it will be fine.” Dorian nodded, as Helena chuckled, shrugging.

“Well, it is no bother. I would come to the party but I can tell you, my days of that are over. Back in my day though….we didn’t have those tools for removing alcohol from blood. You had to just deal with it!” Helena chuckled, her mind as sharp as ever, for an octogenarian still going strong.

In that conversation, Helena seemed like a beacon- and anyone could chat to her, or make introductions. No doubt they would recognise her, and whilst many debates about the best pilot or driver existed, in modern history, on pure stats alone, Starcross was that perfect peak. She'd be welcome to talk to them. Not often you got a chance to meet F1 royalty...



Before Qualifying

Café Villeneuve, Monaco
Friday, June 2nd, 2094
0950 EST


The High Life




Soundtrack: Portishead- Glory Box

The interview was during the morning light, with Aurora herself dressed up nicely given the presenting that was required for various media outlets later, taking a seat inside the Café Villeneuve, yes, named after a particular Canadian driver, but it had a relevant French connection. With this particular part of Monaco, that meant it sat barely at the water’s edge given the one meter of global sea rise, now seemed almost on level with it at the floor. At Sainte Devote, corner one, it had a view of the hill and the harbour behind.

The café had been closed off, with the tables rearranged for Delta Hyper, and the limited filming crew, no screen behind hiding anything but clever continuity tricks in place to make it feel as if it was. Cups of strong-smelling coffee and tea were on offer, as were French pastries and goodies. It was incredible, if a French café was your charm.

The floors were a beautiful marble, the sound of a gramophone could be heard in the lobby, and the building itself felt absolutely chiselled into history, albeit with modern touches bringing the décor from the 1700s to the 2090s. On this Riviera, Monaco was tucked into a part of France that felt almost like Miami, but without any of the Vice, instead bringing true, timeless class and architecture to bear.




The first guest was in frame, as Aurora smiled, making introductions, before going straight into it. The son of Mr Monaco himself, Paul Mulder, in his team colours.
“Paul, welcome to Delta Hyper. We hear this is a circuit you have been looking forward to for a while. Would you like to tell us more about your livery on your ships this weekend, and what it means to you as a dedication to your father?”




Next up, the bouncy Brit in her rainbow-like Carrera colours.
“Welcome back, Bea. How would you say you’re dealing with the glamour of Monte-Carlo, and how does it compare to the launch of the WRC at Casino Square? Do you think you’ll catch up with Daniel Ogier this weekend, who’s popped down to see a race at his home?”



The next guest needed no introduction, in the café overlook and while teetotal and not able to enjoy the traditional fruits of this party on the sea, was here for other reasons- to find a way to win.
“Kais, welcome to Monaco, and back to Earth! With everything that happened on Luna, how do you and Layla find the comparison here in the bustling, manic streets of Monaco?”




Onto Han next, who was back to the sofa too.
“Han, welcome on Delta Hyper! With your recent momentum in previous weeks, how do you feel about the fight with Valkyrie so far in the championship?”




And last but not least- the pilot nobody may have imagined would be back for this race, perhaps let alone until after the Season Break, was sitting in the chair, in her Southern Cross colours.
“Nora, it’s wonderful to have you here. Your crash was a real horror one, and we are all hugely grateful to have you here. I think many are surprised you came back so fast, but we know how important Monaco is to our pilots! How are you feeling?”
Weds 31/05 Formula AG Pilot Group Chat

AStirling
@Paul You’re gonna need all the A Game you can get in Monaco, it’s a difficult circuit
Cassie Neves
@Paul The shit talking never ends :D
Jamie
That’s what she does, I mean Monaco is insane tbf, I love it, it’s like a go kart track for AG ships
Astrid
@Jamie when are you gonna stop being crap?
Jamie
@Astrid when are you gonna admit you have a gin problem? P3 on Luna babyyyyy
Astrid
*angry react*
Dorian
In another life @Astrid you’re an alcoholic and sitting in Finland driving tractors for a living and don’t even pretend it’s far off
Astrid
Okay boomer, 2060 called and it wants its memes back
Also, when you own a gin brand people want to know it’s your own making, @Bea is out here spraying stuff herself, and also, I run transfusions and suckering when I need it?
Dorian
This is some cope
Kofi
Children please
Harrison
@Cassie yeah but it’s Monaco, Baby! Never a done deal- the overtakes on the corkscrew make things interesting but the pole lap matters. Get that right and you’re invincible. Best one of the entire thing for all the rookies to enjoy. The ship may drift but anything happens at Monaco 😊 @AStirling
AStirling
Yeah Monaco is good. @Harrison try not to flip it out again like last year :D

Also we got some historics coming up for Silverstone, they got me to organise it cos I’m just that cool (apparently). So far @Bea has a 2020 Mercedes lined up, @Han @Paul @Nora @Kais, there’s a few options, have a look at the PMs. @Dorian @JenLowry I got you a 1980 Renault and Aurelie Loeb’s 2065 Audi, Delta Hyper want an intro and we’re all contractually obliged to do it so may as well on our own terms
Dorian
Arnoux’s turbo charged beast? @AStirling you know how to make a veteran happy! Mon Dieu!
Jen Lowry
Literally my idol when I was a kid! Thanks @AStirling, thought no models were left
AStirling
I do what I can, those four lemme know what you want or else it’s go-karts again
Wedge
@Dorian is so French he has a baguette in one hand and a Renault on the other
Jen Lowry
Not wrong
Dorian
@Wedge Putain d’merde 😉
Ava Villarosa
Speaking of….
News on Felix was just dropped, yeah as @Bea says we didn’t know, genuinely. He is already settling in and got a warm welcome here, also too many Argentinian fans are making German jokes and he doesn’t know why
Dorian
@Paul @Bea Felix is a real a good guy, do not mention wine around him though, he has opinions on it, typical Pfalzer and I don’t want the Argies to hurt him even though he broke our hearts
@Ava Villarosa I made those jokes with him as well when he told me
Ava Villarosa
@Dorian We know about the wine, he already started messing with the wine fridge in our hospitality and one of the engineers wasn’t happy
Dorian
That sounds like him, typical German interference
Ava Villarosa
Yeah
Any results on the crash? Initial report looked grim. @Nora and me would love to know
Kofi
Yeah results came back, repulsor issue, looks like they underpowered it to make sure it didn’t stall ships in the sector, looks all fixed for future
AStirling
Did they beef up Montreal’s?
Kofi
Yeah all good, sorted
AStirling
Cool, last year was a nasty one, sending lots of love your way @Ava Villarosa @Nora
Ava Villarosa
Thanks @AStirling, new legs and healed up, good to go, wonders of modern medicine…
Wedge
Your new prosthetics look SICK on your socials, lemme guess someone had a hand in that….
Ava Villarosa
You know who sprayed them, she’s got a career in this if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out @Bea
Wedge
@Bea I’m gonna have to get you to sort out my new ink! Serious talent on you (and on track too….)
AStirling
You are gonna make her blush
Dorian
@Paul and @Han are still getting shipped by the media and that makes me blush
Jamie
Are they actually?
Cassie Neves
Lol no
Layla
I mean where there’s smoke there is fire…
@Nora hit me up if you need anything, the prosthetics stuff is scary at first but you’ll be ok 😊
Wedge
@Kais and you seem like a combo Layla! Both of you seem very different but come across well on pressers!

Very nice of you, Bionic Layla really does have a heart of gold 😊
Layla
You get used to him, he’s a big softie really (you haven’t seen him around cats)
And don’t worry, I don’t intend to lose humanity that far too soon (though funny you say about a heart of gold, they actually figured out it's really good as a thermal layer next to my other bits)
Kofi
I was going to send him something about that actually @Layla, can you put in me in touch?
Layla
@Kais (I’ll tell him too as he doesn’t see this chat sometimes).
Cassie Neves
Boat stuff got sorted @AStirling @Astrid?
Astrid
YAS
AStirling
Yep
Dorian
Cool, there’s stuff in the Casino de Monte Carlo Thursday night before it all kicks off if your boat stuff is on Friday night after qualy, seriously swanky event. Should we all meet there? Last time?
Astrid
You’re so old @Dorian, casinos?
AStirling
I’ll stop by the casino, I guess it’s your last time there @Dorian before you retire, may as well make it an occasion?
Dorian
Thanks Amy, you’re generous!
Henry
I’ll come along too then, why not
Harrison
Count me in, you living out your Bond fantasy @Dorian?
Dorian
Haha, as much as Amy is living out her Raven one
AStirling
Nothing quite like Monaco…
Harrison
We’re on our way to Monaco now. Long bloody flight
Kofi
Back in my day it was worse….
Jamie
Lol you are not helping yourselves
Cassie
You neither
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