FourtyTwo

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

The Agera roared past, as Ross smirked, getting behind, the P1's sleek body sitting behind the Viking fury that was the Koenigsegg just roaring, as Ross replied. Maybe her car was a little more raw, but this was no less engineered. The Carbon Fibre oozed out of every pore, it felt refined. The way it stuck to the tarmac, and the delivery of power was a mad feeling. The V8 was loud, and it felt like sitting in a race car, only that it was able to accelerate even through the gears. The power didn't stop, it was unrelenting. The desert road was totally empty, and at mid-day, boiling hot. Ross was sweating, even for him, going 180, 190, then 200mph on a desert road in 40 degree heat was unbelievable. They were covering football pitches in seconds at this speed, and it didn't stop. 210, 220...seventh gear on this car was coming close to it's end, and it was a feeling like no other. A tiny bend in the road didn't even stop, as Ross followed Kimberly's lead, the road still unbelievable as they sped, and sped. The wheel didn't vibrate as madly as Ross expected it to- for a car like this, it was engineered. The Koenigsegg may have been total Swedish fury in a road-going package, but Ross remembered what the P1 was. A machine that was made by a former F1-running team. And whilst most would see it as passionless, and just a slab of carbon fibre, it was anything but. It had a soul, a feel like it was made to perfection, and as if some real care had gone into making this more than just a silly fast beast. It felt like a fighter jet, one that Ross was expecting to find a flickered button somewhere on the dash to launch the munitions. It was stuck to the tarmac, and even at this speed, Ross knew that as petrifying as it would be to make a mistake, it was as if this vehicle was in his head, just knowing full well that Ross was taking it to it's very limit and not one hair over into a sand dune. At this speed, the world was becoming a blur, a sickening one.

The road began to twist, and Ross shifted down, as he swept past Kimberly on a nice right hander, sand kicking up from the side of the road as he smirked, back on the power. This thing lept through the higher end, and soon, Ross was ahead of her again, the light blue shade of rare hypercar roaring onwards.

----

6AM
Somewhere in the Lyngen Alps, Norway

The route was horrible, it wasn't vertical, but at least 75 degrees upwards. Early morning had proven to be a good call though- the sun was just rising, and the snowy and rocky ice was as cold as it would get to have a firm anchor. Enough to pose a considerable challenge, considering the gear that Seb was hauling. This was an ascent and a half, and as Sebastian buried the picks in, clambering up and anchoring his crampons. They were at 1,600m above sea level, the sight of more spiked and snowy mountains behind, and a fjord not too far away in the distance, immense in it's scale as it headed to Tromso. Not for a few hundred meters, like this. After getting past the glacial deposits that were further down the peak, getting to here was good. It was a mountain of considerable challenge, and doing what Seb planned to do here was going to be tricky, that was for sure. His colorful skis sat on his back, by his 40 litre Lowe Alpine Rucksack, with his Black Diamond ice picks and crampons dug in. He felt his harness come a little taut, as he waited on Ellie to move up a little, aware he was making the lead on this climb. The Austrian wore a blue down jacket, and black thermal trousers, to keep in whatever heat he could. A black Mammut Beanie sat on his head, and a GoPro at his chest, with few ice screw-ins on his Mammut harness for the ice. Where it was tricky to ascent and make a hold, the screws went in till Ellie cleared it and took them out. He wore a pair of strongly polarized, red tinted Oakleys fit for use in snow like this. A pair of thermal gloves, and a few other bits and pieces too. The rucksack had his BASE rig and wingsuit inside, packed tight.

Either way, they were coming close to the top. They wouldn't ski down this face of the route- they were going down the other side. And Seb had more than just a plan for this trip. Skiing and wingsuiting went in hand and hand, and whilst extremely risky, it was also an incredible rush. The Lyngen Alps were very well suited for alpine skiing, with routes aplenty to be carved on the way down. And from the view from afar that he had made on his recon, Seb had noticed that there was a gap at about 1,200m, when the snow ended, and a vertical wall of rock started. That was the kick-off point, and from there, they could glide down to the fjord. This place wasn't often explored by BASE jumpers, and Seb was surprised- whilst the clearances were perilous, it was doable, for certain, and definitely something unique.

Shifting up a little more, he felt the ice tremble under his pick, and re-established a hold, hearing the ice splinter.
"It's mainly surface skims." Seb said to Ellie, looking down at his female companion, before shifting up, waiting on her again, just not wanting to get too much slack but not too much tightness in the rope. In effect, if one of the two fell, with a good anchor, their weight could be held. Either way, the drop down below wasn't petrifying, but Seb knew that he would rather smash this ice pick against the ice than begin that drop. Shifting his gloved hands upward, he established another hold, chuckling. The GoPro wasn't recording, not yet at least, but he had gotten bits of footage on the way up.
"It's a wonderful place. Not often do you get to see the sea and mountains in the same place." Seb said, as he kicked up a little, clambering a little further, giving about another 100m worth of climbing till they reached the mountain's ridge.
"It's definitely going to be interesting. It will be a quick start after we ditch our skis, you'll have to fly almost immediately. Adds to the fun. I can imagine it will be fun to edit." Seb added, chuckling, as he looked down at Ellie. She was just how she was- sweet, awesome, and the only person that Seb knew that would follow him. It was a fruitful relationship they had, and whilst right now Seb wasn't thinking about the ins and outs of their relationship, he knew that on a mountainside, somewhere beyond the Arctic Circle on a steep Norwegian mountain, that she was the one for him.

Vigil!

I would carry on, but it's really hard to RP sometimes when half the people aren't about. It was a really good RP- it just needed a little more care I think. I definitely liked Lucas, and there was a lot more to develop about him. The tipping point was coming with CaughtintheRiddle's character coming to visit Lucas, and from there, shit would be getting very involved between Lucas and the Mafia, but that didn't happen- ah well.

Vigil!

I this this is as dead as Hitler's ashes in the Baltic.

Nice RP. Did like it.

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

Natalie smiled, kissing with her tongue, as bloody as it was. She felt comfortable, just soft in his hands. Dropping her head back a little, she smiled
"That's why I love you, Victor. Because I couldn't trust that mantle with anyone else." Natalie said, the big, wounded, Russian blooded and French hearted woman smiling.
"And I bet whoever is on that other side will stand clear when you come running through." She added, kissing him again, as they began exiting the AO. She was in pretty bad pain, but considering this was Natalie, she was coping. Rubbing her paw-like hand against his stubbled chin, she carried on, just thankful. That was all she could be. And she was beyond happy to be with him, right here. Being this big had it's perks. Natalie knew that she was very lucky indeed to live, and had it not have been for the sequence of events that happened, she would surely have been dead. It was worse than Brussels, a couple of bullet wounds. This was terrifying, even for her.

----

Three Days Later
Somewhere near the Pakistan-Afghanistan Border
Wakhan Province

The mountains were cold, desolate, nasty. It was a bad place to be stranded, and the last few days had been moving back across the border. The Navy Seals, as well as Ross and Carl, had lost their contact that had been chasing them. They had clambered higher into the mountain, and a helicopter extraction was expected at Point Pembroke, an LZ further up in the mountains. It had been tough work, and there was next to nobody living there. The chase had mostly died down and they'd had to evade a few patrols here and there. Though it was nothing big, for the four men, getting the fuck out was a priority. Sleep deprivation had hit, and for Ross and Carl in particular, weighed down in more kevlar and dragonskin that needed, it was going to be hell keeping a high level of stamina against the Navy Seals. They had made their way further up, and were now at about 5,000m above sea level. The snow had kicked in fully, and they had to keep moving.

The glacial river roared, as Ross moved forwards, alongside it. They had to go another 15km, and over this terrain, it was hard.
"So, how'd you end up doing this shit then?" Ramsay asked the pair vaguely, as he checked his HCAR for the millionth time, keeping an eye out behind, as the heavily armored SAS soldier looked over. Each step was hell- they had slept once in the last fifty hours, and generally hellmarched their way over. In armor like this, and with a gun like this, it was almost practically impossible.

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

Ross smirked, as the car roared, looking to Kimberly.
"Let's." Ross said, as he pulled away, the V8 twin-turbo and hybrid combination roaring, very likely being illegal in most parts of the world but not here. The blue P1 was unbelievable, with a reverb of low pressure air around the exaust turning it into a small flamethrower every time Ross pulled the shifter in. It was the most insane feeling, the sound and the feeling in the Recaro seat, that this was a machine built do very much scare the shit from multi-millionaires indeed. Braking, he turned right, seeing the signs for the roads that the Shiekh had mentioned. The roads were square, but Ross knew that would come to an end soon. Taking another left, he put foot to floor, and suddenly, felt as if the car teleported forwards.

The roar of the V8, and the flaming backblast of the P1 GTR was incredible, as the speedo climbed faster than Ross could even comprehend. 100 was hit within a matter of seconds, 150 being something that barely took any longer. Roaring over the tarmac, he turned hard through a curve, the car's enormous racing spoiler creating masses of downforce that stuck the car, as he pulled a left, tyre smoke wailing as he was back on. A little sand was kicking up, as the mid-day sun beat down, the uncooled P1 an incredible car to just sit in and drive. The desert roads soon beckoned, and Ross was already fully aware of what was going to go down.

The car clambered over 150, as he saw Kimberly follow close. The Agera RS was a car that ran on E85 Biodiesel, and was incredibly potent for it. To put into perspective, as a famous person had once said, it was like weaponizing a wind farm. Crops were being burned in the engine of that Swedish monster faster than a bushfire in Australia. And the P1 itself was faultless in it's acceleration. When the turbos didn't kick, the batteries did, and the acceleration was constant. Absolutely so, even when Ross shifted into fifth, now tailing almost 170mph. The city limits were far behind, thanks to the speed of these things, and no traffic either. This was a shut road. The cars roared, as Ross just knew that this was just totally insane.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

Cider makes posts happen. I think Queen said that she isn't going to be able to post for a while due to exams- though I have left it open if she does want to post.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

(Posts from me are going to be a little erratic over the next three weeks or so- exam season is really kicking in, so thanks to half a bottle of cider, I feel motivated to write this post.)
(Also, Queen is going through the same as me, US version I would think. I'll let her post on her own behest.)

Jan heard the radio call from Scott, as he laid down some more suppressing fire, taking out a pair of hostiles behind a pair of cars on the other side of the road. The rope was a pretty good idea- and would probably hold, so long as the Pole didn't throw too much weight onto it immediately.
"Zhenya, Neil, keep up some cover!" Jan yelled, as he expended the last of the magazine, slotting in another. Fourth from last. There wasn't going to be a lot of shooting, if all went to plan, Captain Bogdanowicz reminded himself. The pain from a few cuts and bruises he had from the blast was lingering, but he was glad he was where he was when it did happen. Any bits of rubble and shrapnel that had blown the facia off had been mostly taken up by the desk, though he still knew that if it wasn't for the fact he was shooting people, and being shot at in response, that it would be nigh on impossible. The last hostile on the road was dead, as the wail of sirens got closer and closer.

Jan HK-slapped the 416, and moved onto the rope, moving over the crevasse, and bumping off the first floor window as he went down. Dropping the last few feet, he rolled, the parachute landing fall one that he still remembered well and served excellently to make sure he didn't damage his ankles in a fall like this. Moving to Scott's side, he surveyed the street, and heard the sirens come even closer. Neil made a move for the rope, as Jan notioned to Scott, before moving around cover himself, covering the far end of the road. Jan could see cops. They had stopped at least 200m away, and it looked like there were at least three vans. This was a SWAT team of sorts- either Police-based, or SF of sorts. Jan didn't want to linger any longer than was needed. The militants on the other side of the road were dead, or running. And they were headed into an alley, down which Jan knew that Zhenya's friends had tracked their gist. They'd be heading to the shopping street, if they were going east. And Jan knew that as Neil came down, and Zhenya was the last to go; getting a move on would be an essential.

"Scott, I want you to keep point- we're headed down this alley, it should take us out to the Strøget. No doubt there will be civies, and possibly cops too...watch fire when you can, and watch any runners. Wendy, we've got multiple movers going east, you're going to gain sight intermittently. Take careful shots, take out the carrier's entourage, and track the carrier. We know it's going to take at least a minute or so to prime the weapon, if he goes for a manual detonation. Zhenya...fuck, this is going to really screw us over. I need you to figure out a way to make sure that those police don't immediately follow us. Use your imagination- we let them get ahead of us, and it's game over if we want to catch these fuckers." Jan simply said, as he looked over at his men, before adjusting the Holographic Sight on his weapon. The street was filled with cars, and bodies. The Pole didn't know what Zhenya was going to do, in reality, but whatever it was, there had to be a way to cut the police team from chasing them into the alley.

Any Skydivers?

Bump!

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

N/A

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

"Down Rashman Khalid Avenue, about two miles out from here. I think the guy has his house towards the outskirts." Ross simply said, as he pulled in himself, bailing out quick and getting the plate from the boot (or trunk), grabbing a aptly placed crosshead screwdriver and pulling off the plate, slapping a new one onto it. Secure, Ross was back in the car, and revved out of the alley, pulling onto the street calmly and quiet. He switched the radio back on, selecting some Rudimental, as the distant noise of sirens became quieter and quieter. They had shaken their lead. Just like in Cali, where they'd saved a street racing friend of Ross's. It had worked, well, it had, just. Right now though Ross wanted to finish this delivery. Taking a left, he didn't drive hard, and stayed quiet with the C63's 6.3 liter V8, not letting it rumble and attract unwaranted attention. It didn't have any major scratches on it, and it fitted in suprisingly well, in this city of riches and wonders.

Pulling onto another larger road, Ross watched as a couple cop cars sped past the other way, not making out the right plates. Or perhaps they were focussed on Kimberly, not Ross's identification. Either way, it wasn't a problem, and within a few minutes, Ross was driving down Rashman Khalid, amongst the mansions that were strewn about, close enough to the beach to make driving pointless to it. Though that said, the houses were incredible, not like Hollywood, but more like just stupid money. A set of golden gates, literally made out of solid gold, and a guard standing by it. That was Sheikh Mohammed Ben Fayed's house, a house that probably had a few extra zeroes added to whatever Ross's best estimate was. Pulling up, he saw Kimberly waiting, the guard coming out. He was armed, and rightly so. Ross let the window roll down, as the man, looking like some South African of some sort, walked out.
"Identify yourselves. This is the Sheikh's Residence, he doesn't want to be pestered..." He said, angry, his Afrikaans accent making him sound like he could turn your insides to play-dough.
"We're here for buisness. The business he entrusted us with in Abu Dhabi. Sensitive things." Ross replied, as the guard nodded, taking his radio, as he then heard the gate buzz. They were in.

Driving into the Shiekh's residence, Ross wouldn't have been if he saw that inside of the pools that were lingering in the front lawn, beyond the huge hedgerow, was dozens and dozens of loose women, all probably wives of this Sheikh. It wasn't, but what looked like the Sheikh's son had at least ten girls in a pool next to the house. This man was stupid rich, and stupidly crazy enough to have all of this. Yet Ross and Kimberly, right here, were doing business. Pulling into the garage, which was left open and on Mohamed's direct orders, a place where the cars would stop, Ross was anxious to find out what now. Stepping out, he saw the Sheikh come through, nodding. The garage was large enough for two cars, and two cars only, this one at least. There was another structure that Ross saw, but didn't concern himself with right now. Maybe it was another.
"Ah, you made it. Good. I heard good things about you two as drivers from my contact. In this world, you must surround yourself with the right people, yes?" The Sheikh said, in his almost perfectly English accent, though of course, the course sand and dust of the UAE sat there, tinged with an Arabic flavor.
"Ross and Kimberly Hartley? Husband and Wife? I must say, you make a beautiful couple. Vroom, vroom! Haha!" Mohamed added, the Sheikh in his white robe, red and white checked headscarf and bearded fashion actually in his early thirties. And definitely an eccentric. Ross didn't know a lot, but what he did know reminded him that this was Dubai, not a different rich man's playground.
"Anyway, you delivered what was needed. What you did deliever, you don't need to know. I got rich out of oil first, then I sold that. Then property. Then it went bust, and I was out before that happened, let me tell you. I know what the riches of this world can bring, and the risks men take to make money. In Dubai, there is many a way of making dollars, and many do involve catering to the more angry needs of a society like ours. If you ever think enough was enough, think again. I mean, my cousin out there has at least ten virgins on his lap..." Mohamed said, as then looked to Kimberly.
"I apologize, Kimberly, I forget my manners sometimes........I...anyway, moving on, I will say to you this. What you did was highly, highly illicit. But you're going to be rewarded for your efforts. Your money is here." Mohamed simply said, pointing to the two duffel bags in the garage, nodding.
"That is $500,000 each. What you carried is worth almost ten times as much, and fits in your vehicles. Again, what it is, I do not specify as it would put all of us onto chopping blocks, and because that cash just talks. The Benjamins, right?" The Sheikh added, as Ross chuckled, aware that Sheikh Fayed was utterly insane at points, totally eccentric, but being a multi-multi millionaire did that to you.
"You're just as insane as they say you are, Sheikh Fayed. I like it." Ross said, as the Shiekh laughed in response, shuddering a little as he opened the garage's door a little more.
"See that building over there? I think payment is good, yes. But I like you both. Such a beautiful couple. And I thought, in my great generosity, I let you have a go with something more. You're petrolheads, yes? Obsessed with going fast? Welcome to the land of speed, where I phone up a guard over in the desert and he....suggests that the road be closed for a few minutes so that a herd of camels can cross. If you get my gist." The Sheikh added, as he let Ross and Kimberly out, leading them across the paved stone that jutted through the garden, this place an oasis. It was total overload, this was lavish beyond belief.

Opening the door, the Sheikh switched on the lights, Ross still feeling the weight from the duffel of cash he had. The room was illuminated by the lights, and Ross realized what this was. It was a tiny place, but it was clear what existed.
"Is that a car lift?" Ross simply said, as Mohamed laughed.
"It is, fuck, it actually is a lift! I mean, it's like a roulette wheel of speed!" The Sheikh replied, as the lights on it lit up, the lift hiding the other vehicles below, but having room above to be fully jacked up so the car at the bottom could be pulled out at this level. At the top, there was an aqua blue McLaren P1 GTR, one that Ross just dropped his mouth at. This was an insane car. Nothing could be said beyond a total mindfuck. It was sitting on the level of the structure here, one that he could just step into now.
"That car cost me....I can't remember what with the diamonds I had stitched into the roof. It is beautiful, no?" He simply said, as Ross laughed, somehow in total shock.
"Ross, I want you to take it for a drive. If you can deliver something so important to me and have it completely intact with no attention, then I suggest you drive this. Or for your wife, perhaps there is something on this lift too. The sweetest and most exotic fruits of the automobile world await!" Ross heard him say, smiling, just lost for words, as he looked to him again.
"Just go. Drive out of the city, south. There are desert roads. I hope you can drive that thing faster than I ever will. Return them back to me in one piece, or your insurance cost will be very high. Not in monetary sense, friend." Mohamed said, as he then burst out laughing after being so serious, patting Ross on the shoulder, the Scot confused but mindfucked.
"Seriously though, don't fuck up my cars. Have fun!" Ross heard, as he walked out, and the Scot just looked to Kimberly, as he ran to the P1 GTR. Clambering in, he drove off the ramp, the engine roaring, filling the small but tall garage with engine fumes and a loud, twin-turbocharged, V8 with a battery sort of sound. He hadn't even gone ten feet, and somehow inside, Ross was as giddy and exited as a 10 year old after a Coke. This was heaven. And he was honestly in shock this was happening. That a test drive in a P1 GTR, one of a handful in the world, was actually going on. He let Kimberly move the mechanized lift, before she got in hers. They would be doing something totally insane, and in addition to the half million in cash that they had, Ross knew that this was truly wonderful indeed.