I'm going to post soon (ish).
FourtyTwo Member
STATUS: 10+ years of an RP idea, finally finished, on 10.10.2025. Goodnight Raven Squad, you were the best, wildest, most silly near future SOF RP that lived on the guild, and you got a worthy send off :) 9 mos ago
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10+ years of an RP idea, finally finished, on 10.10.2025. Goodnight Raven Squad, you were the best, wildest, most silly near future SOF RP that lived on the guild, and you got a worthy send off :)
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Bio
I've RP'd for the best part of over 15 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've been more a GM lately than a player, and don't really lean into fandom- instead, exploring my own universes lifting themes from other source material.
My main interests are military-themed, near-future RPs, with a focus on technology. But I'm beginning to push what that RP idea looks like- taking inspiration from lots of media and focussing on the fun, indulgent side of RP, whilst also exploring the lows and emotional side.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/190121-rav…
Raven Squad is a project over seven years in the making, and focusses on a class-based, eccentric yet half-grounded near future special forces team that acts as a response team where you can't send any special forces team in. It's incredibly dumb, incredibly loose, and yet, has delivered some of my favourite plot points in RPG. A brainless action flick a la John Wick and Kingsman meets a complex thriller with a fun left turn in it, Raven has been the culmination of over a decade of loving special forces RPG, gaming influences and other silliness in a package that has provided players with something quite different to a normal military themed RPG. While at an end, this is an RP that is a signature- it's silly as hell, takes itself barely seriously, and is what peak fun military RPG to me should be.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/192916-del…
Delta Hyper is a love letter to Wipeout, F1's Drive to Survive (Netflix) and contemporary Formula One, with influences from solarpunk, cyberpunk, transhumanism and other posthumanist concepts. An RP that follows pilots in their ups and downs, it's a story that hasn't got me playing an actual character, but framing the camera at each pilot (played by others), and presenting it as if it were a documentary. Lifting elements from TTRPG, this is a Racing RPG like no other and no parallel exists- using dice rolls and randomisation, with a stats-driven system to generate race results, rather than actually RPing the races, players experience the fast-paced, dynamic world of anti-gravity racing. This means that come Qualifying and Race, the results are genuinely a surprise to everyone- and based on decisions made through dilemmas and decisions made between races. Friendships, rivalry, the glamour and even a little political undertone play out in 2094, in a colourful, utopian future that focuses on the fight to take first place.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/196931-tac…
Then there's Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex. First use of any set IP as a formal setting, this is an RP that offers a darker mirror to Raven Squad, focussing on the other side of the equation- unlikely heroes in an uncomfortable position. I don't normally do fantasy, but the world, the lore, the feeling of the characters and the ability to write a comedy just was too difficult to pass up. An RP that focuses on a group running away from a variety of threats as wanted mercenary wizards in the middle of a post-revolution, Eastern-Europe adjacent 1990s to present Polavia.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/197399-dis…
Lastly, Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont. This is another IP-adjacent world, albeit drawing on a different setting and a new cast of superheroes. As my "first" proper superhero RP, this combines workplace comedy, a Storyteller-lite system and a fun, diverse, and large cast together in a dynamic, diverse setting.
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. I aim to clear posts within a week!
My main interests are military-themed, near-future RPs, with a focus on technology. But I'm beginning to push what that RP idea looks like- taking inspiration from lots of media and focussing on the fun, indulgent side of RP, whilst also exploring the lows and emotional side.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/190121-rav…
Raven Squad is a project over seven years in the making, and focusses on a class-based, eccentric yet half-grounded near future special forces team that acts as a response team where you can't send any special forces team in. It's incredibly dumb, incredibly loose, and yet, has delivered some of my favourite plot points in RPG. A brainless action flick a la John Wick and Kingsman meets a complex thriller with a fun left turn in it, Raven has been the culmination of over a decade of loving special forces RPG, gaming influences and other silliness in a package that has provided players with something quite different to a normal military themed RPG. While at an end, this is an RP that is a signature- it's silly as hell, takes itself barely seriously, and is what peak fun military RPG to me should be.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/192916-del…
Delta Hyper is a love letter to Wipeout, F1's Drive to Survive (Netflix) and contemporary Formula One, with influences from solarpunk, cyberpunk, transhumanism and other posthumanist concepts. An RP that follows pilots in their ups and downs, it's a story that hasn't got me playing an actual character, but framing the camera at each pilot (played by others), and presenting it as if it were a documentary. Lifting elements from TTRPG, this is a Racing RPG like no other and no parallel exists- using dice rolls and randomisation, with a stats-driven system to generate race results, rather than actually RPing the races, players experience the fast-paced, dynamic world of anti-gravity racing. This means that come Qualifying and Race, the results are genuinely a surprise to everyone- and based on decisions made through dilemmas and decisions made between races. Friendships, rivalry, the glamour and even a little political undertone play out in 2094, in a colourful, utopian future that focuses on the fight to take first place.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/196931-tac…
Then there's Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex. First use of any set IP as a formal setting, this is an RP that offers a darker mirror to Raven Squad, focussing on the other side of the equation- unlikely heroes in an uncomfortable position. I don't normally do fantasy, but the world, the lore, the feeling of the characters and the ability to write a comedy just was too difficult to pass up. An RP that focuses on a group running away from a variety of threats as wanted mercenary wizards in the middle of a post-revolution, Eastern-Europe adjacent 1990s to present Polavia.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/197399-dis…
Lastly, Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont. This is another IP-adjacent world, albeit drawing on a different setting and a new cast of superheroes. As my "first" proper superhero RP, this combines workplace comedy, a Storyteller-lite system and a fun, diverse, and large cast together in a dynamic, diverse setting.
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. I aim to clear posts within a week!
Most Recent Posts
The streets of Copenhagen were fading, as Jan made his way around the alley, looking around as he winced a little in pain, putting the rucksack down as he came around to the small carpark. An old Volvo 240...perfect. Taking out a strip of wickable cloth from his thermal bandit, he wrapped it around his hand and smashed in the rear window, reaching his hand inside and grabbing a hold of the release, firmly taking the catch as he let the door swing open. Getting inside, he put his head under the steering wheel and got to work on the electrics, grabbing a pair of wires and pulling them out from the ignition complex. Hotwiring was rusty to him, but it was something that he still knew the core basics of, and it seemed a little less perverse than carjacking someone. He gave the wires a simple brush, and the car's ignition ticked over, slowly, surely, but then eventually went, as he sat up. Opening the door and dragging the rucksack inside, he moaned, looking at his shoulder. He had to deal with this. He had to also deal with his own look. The beard had to go, the glasses had to go on, and he needed a new set of blood-free clothes. He had no radio, nothing at all. Apart from the Glock, he was clear. He didn't like the idea of having the handgun, but he needed it as the last option he had left, the very last one. Putting his seatbelt on, he pulled out of the parking spot, and began the drive, the drive that took him far from here.
---
Two Years Later
30th December, 2015
Somewhere on Holmön, Sweden
The winter was bitter up here, the frozen Gulf of Bothnia allowing for a bridge to be made between the remote island and the Swedish mainland, and in itself, the island felt bleaker than usual. The Holmöarna islands were for a hardy people, mainly fisheries and people who enjoyed the great outdoors more than most Swedes finding this place home, particularly in this time of year. The pines and conifers were covered in snow, and the huts were mostly left behind, the small village on the north of the island ready for another cold winter.
Yet on the south, there was a singular hut, a tiny post that Jan had been living in, for two years straight. It had been dilapidated when he first arrived, but things had changed since then. The Pole looked thinned, though still healthy in his appearance, maintaining some sort of vague physical routine. Inside, the hut was barren, bar for a bed, a stove, and a table, filling with news reports. As he walked back in through the door, everything from the prescription glasses he wore to his clean-shaven appearance and his outdoorsman's appearance drew no relation to the person he had been before. That person was dead, Jan thought to himself.
Exhaling, he threw his stuff down by the front entrance, Jan wearing a down jacket and a pair of rugged outdoors trousers, essentials in cold like this. Lobbing off his coat, he sorted through the things he'd bought back from the mainland, a walk across the ice, rather than a ferry. Nothing too out of the ordinary, it was cold but it was not demanding, not after last winter had adapted him. Jan took his flint steel from the tbale and lit the woodburner, throwing it into the small pile of logs he had made, before sitting down on his bed. He reached over and took out the phone, his fourth in a year, just to cycle through any traces or tracks that could ever arise- not that he expected anything. It had been a long time, but one thing still remained. He didn't know how much it emitted, but he knew it was live. The device was in the corner, the lead casing around the metal cylinder, and Jan knew it couldn't go back. Not a chance.
The phone switched on, as he accessed onto the internet, aware that it could easily compromise his position, yet he had to check up on the state of the world. As much as he enjoyed being isolated, he had been watching the world, and wanted to know what was going on. Just to keep up with the state of affairs. Scrolling through, he went onto BBC News, flicking through. He didn't know how much he had changed. His cold thumb flicked through the main page on the smartphone, as he looked on.
"140 Killed in Suicide Attack in Mosul"
"'Ceasefire Broken' in Eastern Ukraine, OECD Reports"
But there was one headline, one that at least seemed to semi-justify something inside of Jan. It wasn't a smile he cracked, it wasn't a frown either.
"TIAF Forces Surrender to Turkish Government"
That on it's own peaked his interest, as he took a closer look, scrolling through the first body of text on the article.
"The terrorist group, TIAF, has unconditionally surrendered to Turkish forces in the early hours of yesterday morning following heavy fighting, OECD observers report. The group, responsible for the terrorist attack in December 2013 in Copenhagen, was surrounded in it's strongholds in Arafat Province over the last few days by Turkish Special Forces, and reports of dangerous biological material and heavy arms have been reported to have been in their possession.
Since the events of the Christmas Eve attacks in Copenhagen in 2013, NATO and OECD pressure to oust TIAF forces from Turkey's eastern provinces has surged, and Prime Minister David Cameron has called the terrorist group a "dangerous force of radical Islam", with the pledge of British forces along with Italian, German and Danish air strikes in the area securing Turkey's dangerous eastern frontier. The group has long been assumed to be the best trained and most dangerous of Al-Qaeda and IS affiliates, and reports from both US and Russian security services report that the group was intending to create "devastating" terror attacks across Europe prior to last month's offensive. Russian intervention in January in Armenia was said to have uncovered "at least three" sites of chemical weapon development, following a devastating terror attack conducted by TIAF militants in Grozny earlier in December 2013."
Jan looked through, before switching his phone off, throwing it onto the table. He knew it was inevitable, but in some ways, knew that this was all that there was going to be. Sitting up, he looked out across the room, before then getting back up and grabbing his phone. He uttered to himself, trying to remember. It hit him, almost as well as it had a few years ago. Taking his phone back into his cold hands, he dialled. He hoped she was still at the same desk, because Jan had one last thing he wanted to do. He wasn't dying until he gave one last look into Victoria's eyes, and laughed at her. Not till then.
---
Two Years Later
30th December, 2015
Somewhere on Holmön, Sweden
The winter was bitter up here, the frozen Gulf of Bothnia allowing for a bridge to be made between the remote island and the Swedish mainland, and in itself, the island felt bleaker than usual. The Holmöarna islands were for a hardy people, mainly fisheries and people who enjoyed the great outdoors more than most Swedes finding this place home, particularly in this time of year. The pines and conifers were covered in snow, and the huts were mostly left behind, the small village on the north of the island ready for another cold winter.
Yet on the south, there was a singular hut, a tiny post that Jan had been living in, for two years straight. It had been dilapidated when he first arrived, but things had changed since then. The Pole looked thinned, though still healthy in his appearance, maintaining some sort of vague physical routine. Inside, the hut was barren, bar for a bed, a stove, and a table, filling with news reports. As he walked back in through the door, everything from the prescription glasses he wore to his clean-shaven appearance and his outdoorsman's appearance drew no relation to the person he had been before. That person was dead, Jan thought to himself.
Exhaling, he threw his stuff down by the front entrance, Jan wearing a down jacket and a pair of rugged outdoors trousers, essentials in cold like this. Lobbing off his coat, he sorted through the things he'd bought back from the mainland, a walk across the ice, rather than a ferry. Nothing too out of the ordinary, it was cold but it was not demanding, not after last winter had adapted him. Jan took his flint steel from the tbale and lit the woodburner, throwing it into the small pile of logs he had made, before sitting down on his bed. He reached over and took out the phone, his fourth in a year, just to cycle through any traces or tracks that could ever arise- not that he expected anything. It had been a long time, but one thing still remained. He didn't know how much it emitted, but he knew it was live. The device was in the corner, the lead casing around the metal cylinder, and Jan knew it couldn't go back. Not a chance.
The phone switched on, as he accessed onto the internet, aware that it could easily compromise his position, yet he had to check up on the state of the world. As much as he enjoyed being isolated, he had been watching the world, and wanted to know what was going on. Just to keep up with the state of affairs. Scrolling through, he went onto BBC News, flicking through. He didn't know how much he had changed. His cold thumb flicked through the main page on the smartphone, as he looked on.
"140 Killed in Suicide Attack in Mosul"
"'Ceasefire Broken' in Eastern Ukraine, OECD Reports"
But there was one headline, one that at least seemed to semi-justify something inside of Jan. It wasn't a smile he cracked, it wasn't a frown either.
"TIAF Forces Surrender to Turkish Government"
That on it's own peaked his interest, as he took a closer look, scrolling through the first body of text on the article.
"The terrorist group, TIAF, has unconditionally surrendered to Turkish forces in the early hours of yesterday morning following heavy fighting, OECD observers report. The group, responsible for the terrorist attack in December 2013 in Copenhagen, was surrounded in it's strongholds in Arafat Province over the last few days by Turkish Special Forces, and reports of dangerous biological material and heavy arms have been reported to have been in their possession.
Since the events of the Christmas Eve attacks in Copenhagen in 2013, NATO and OECD pressure to oust TIAF forces from Turkey's eastern provinces has surged, and Prime Minister David Cameron has called the terrorist group a "dangerous force of radical Islam", with the pledge of British forces along with Italian, German and Danish air strikes in the area securing Turkey's dangerous eastern frontier. The group has long been assumed to be the best trained and most dangerous of Al-Qaeda and IS affiliates, and reports from both US and Russian security services report that the group was intending to create "devastating" terror attacks across Europe prior to last month's offensive. Russian intervention in January in Armenia was said to have uncovered "at least three" sites of chemical weapon development, following a devastating terror attack conducted by TIAF militants in Grozny earlier in December 2013."
Jan looked through, before switching his phone off, throwing it onto the table. He knew it was inevitable, but in some ways, knew that this was all that there was going to be. Sitting up, he looked out across the room, before then getting back up and grabbing his phone. He uttered to himself, trying to remember. It hit him, almost as well as it had a few years ago. Taking his phone back into his cold hands, he dialled. He hoped she was still at the same desk, because Jan had one last thing he wanted to do. He wasn't dying until he gave one last look into Victoria's eyes, and laughed at her. Not till then.
I think I might carry it on, Skyth is fine if I go on without his post. I'll make my post, then everyone can kind of make their last- where you place your characters is completely up to you, in the aftermath of it all.
Ross chuckled, looking over at Kimberly, her charming nature never letting up today, it seemed.
"Creamsicle, you say. I'd still take it any day, that thing is serious vintage. Italian, but it's got rally cred." Ross added, looking over the cream coloured Fiat, with a couple of RSD decals slapped on, looking mean- the inside had been gutted, but it had been race-ified, as had all the rest of the cars. Looking across, and at the keys he held in his hand for the BMW, he wondered. It was a good looking car, the blue E30 looking seriously mean. Under the hood, maybe 280bhp, if not more. It was a special car, built not only to do rally, but for touring and general hoonage. Yet looking at the keys again, then back at the car, Ross had to only think to himself. It wouldn't be right. It was too good to be true, and somehow, he didn't like the idea of taking it. Maybe he was an idiot, because at that moment, he made his choice.
"Tell you what though. I don't want the Beemer. Shit, I can't believe I'm saying this. Thanks, but I think I'm going with that Escort." He added, as he threw the key back onto the table right next to the BMW, walking up to the Ford, the blue and black painted rally classic sitting there, perhaps something that had beyond caught the eye of Ross.
"I had a go in something not too different from this in Perthshire, it's revvy and it's not difficult to control on dirt, it's a joy. That BMW might be fast on tarmac, but it's a handful off it- and not in a fun way. Doesn't like sudden acceleration, it's too tail happy. I might be a BMW person, but this is too good to pass up." Ross added, as he looked under the bonnet of the Mk2 Escort, before making his way around to the front. Carbon-Fiber coated dash, most of it was also gutted and filled with a rollcage, and apart from the K-Series engine under the bonnet, the Rover engine being usually thrown into Mk2s like this to boost the power output, as well as offer a higher rev range. That, or a Millington engine usually went in- the modern equivalent able to roar to 11,000 comfortably, Ross remembering well that both this and the 131 Abarth both screamed well when they were at higher revs. Looking over for one last time, looking under and at the general rear of the car, he nodded, before looking back at Kimberly.
"Come on then, bae. Let's get ourselves signed up."
Looking around, he headed back to the office, just through on the other side, and saw the receptionist, Beatrice, waiting. She was maybe a 40-something, definitely a woman that seemed to be weathered to an atmosphere like this- a local of sorts.
"Hi, we're here for the Rallycross Classics?" Ross asked, as he looked over to Kimberly, then back at Beatrice, who gave a simple nod before she replied. Beatrice had a fairly neutral look, but the general glowing demenour of anyone having to work admin in a place like this.
"Hello...yep, Ross Hartley and Kimberly Hartley? Ryan mentioned you both, you're entered into that event." Ross looked over to Kimberly, before then back.
"It's Hartley-Rossi, but that's the one. We're taking the Escort and 131, if that's alright." He replied, a little awkward in the way he had to correct that, but he carried on, none the less.
"Okay...that should be fine. So, if I could have you sign this paperwork..."
----
Some paperwork later, and Ross, Kimberly, Regina and Ryan were all in the paddock by Regina and Ryan's Fiestas, the noise of other cars blaring outside, the warm summer day still taking a hold of this part of Kent, as Ryan sipped down a little more Monster, listening to Ross.
"So anyway, we get to this warehouse, like it's a fucking old-school 90s warehouse rave but with cars, everything from riced 106s to hypercars, you should have seen it. They then start running a race, plus there's this girl that was rolling in a RWB Porsche 911 that comes along, I shit you not. No idea how much she tuned that straight six but she was rolling with me and Kimberly all the way through this stuff, like I mentioned earlier."
"Seriously? RWB got a branch over here? I heard the work they did on 911s is insane, the panel work is so precise, it's crazy." Ryan replied, looking over
"Well, it's one of a kind work, I haven't seen anything like it on a 911. I like mine untouched, do it like Magnus Walker if you're going to make a 911 look cool." Ross added, as he took a can of Monster off the table, a little warmer as it wasn't straight from the fridge, but still worth a swig anyway.
"Damn, at this rate, you're going to be sponsored by Monster, you've got a cooler and everything." Ross laughed, as Ryan shrugged, looking at Regina.
"Well, she's not a fan, what can I say. Different crowd, but at least she doesn't drink Rockstar. That shit melts my mouth." Ryan gave a simple nod back, as he put his own can down, looking over at the car once again, then back to Ross and Kimberly.
"I can't believe nobody took that Renault, or that BMW for that matter."
"I don't do French cars, Ryan..."
"But it's a mid-engined 80s beast!"
"Still French. And anyway, I saw that Escort and couldn't take my eyes off it. Nothing like a fast Ford."
"You got me on that one, they are sweet as anything. They'll be faster off the line than your Scoobie, or Skyline for that matter, Kimberly. Top end isn't as good though." Ryan added, looking over as the two engineers headed off, doing some diagnostics on a couple of laptops on the other side of the makeshift tent garage, going over any last data sets before they got a practice run in.
-----
Seb looked over, pulling out a beanie from his trouser pocket, slinging the light blue beanie over his shaved head, before putting the phone down.
"I don't want to scream at a camera for a living, I like the wind to do that for me..." He added, chuckling, as he sat up again, shaking his head at her pun.
"Just don't, Ellie. It's so bad." He added, kissing her on the forehead as he clambered up, heading to the door, going to take a look at the scene outside. It was still glorious, and the weather didn't look like it was going to change any time soon. The sight of parachutes, or canopies above could be seen, a load that had been sent up it seemed. Walking onto a patch of grass, he sat down and looked up, taking a good long look, as he took a photo on his phone, before then looking over to Ellie. Sitting back up, he notioned for her to sit down by him, as he got the phone's camera up, flicking the view. He took a selfie of himself and Ellie, a distinct smirk on his face as he looked over.
"What? I thought we might as well." He added, kissing her on the cheek, smiling at her with a distinct beam.
"Creamsicle, you say. I'd still take it any day, that thing is serious vintage. Italian, but it's got rally cred." Ross added, looking over the cream coloured Fiat, with a couple of RSD decals slapped on, looking mean- the inside had been gutted, but it had been race-ified, as had all the rest of the cars. Looking across, and at the keys he held in his hand for the BMW, he wondered. It was a good looking car, the blue E30 looking seriously mean. Under the hood, maybe 280bhp, if not more. It was a special car, built not only to do rally, but for touring and general hoonage. Yet looking at the keys again, then back at the car, Ross had to only think to himself. It wouldn't be right. It was too good to be true, and somehow, he didn't like the idea of taking it. Maybe he was an idiot, because at that moment, he made his choice.
"Tell you what though. I don't want the Beemer. Shit, I can't believe I'm saying this. Thanks, but I think I'm going with that Escort." He added, as he threw the key back onto the table right next to the BMW, walking up to the Ford, the blue and black painted rally classic sitting there, perhaps something that had beyond caught the eye of Ross.
"I had a go in something not too different from this in Perthshire, it's revvy and it's not difficult to control on dirt, it's a joy. That BMW might be fast on tarmac, but it's a handful off it- and not in a fun way. Doesn't like sudden acceleration, it's too tail happy. I might be a BMW person, but this is too good to pass up." Ross added, as he looked under the bonnet of the Mk2 Escort, before making his way around to the front. Carbon-Fiber coated dash, most of it was also gutted and filled with a rollcage, and apart from the K-Series engine under the bonnet, the Rover engine being usually thrown into Mk2s like this to boost the power output, as well as offer a higher rev range. That, or a Millington engine usually went in- the modern equivalent able to roar to 11,000 comfortably, Ross remembering well that both this and the 131 Abarth both screamed well when they were at higher revs. Looking over for one last time, looking under and at the general rear of the car, he nodded, before looking back at Kimberly.
"Come on then, bae. Let's get ourselves signed up."
Looking around, he headed back to the office, just through on the other side, and saw the receptionist, Beatrice, waiting. She was maybe a 40-something, definitely a woman that seemed to be weathered to an atmosphere like this- a local of sorts.
"Hi, we're here for the Rallycross Classics?" Ross asked, as he looked over to Kimberly, then back at Beatrice, who gave a simple nod before she replied. Beatrice had a fairly neutral look, but the general glowing demenour of anyone having to work admin in a place like this.
"Hello...yep, Ross Hartley and Kimberly Hartley? Ryan mentioned you both, you're entered into that event." Ross looked over to Kimberly, before then back.
"It's Hartley-Rossi, but that's the one. We're taking the Escort and 131, if that's alright." He replied, a little awkward in the way he had to correct that, but he carried on, none the less.
"Okay...that should be fine. So, if I could have you sign this paperwork..."
----
Some paperwork later, and Ross, Kimberly, Regina and Ryan were all in the paddock by Regina and Ryan's Fiestas, the noise of other cars blaring outside, the warm summer day still taking a hold of this part of Kent, as Ryan sipped down a little more Monster, listening to Ross.
"So anyway, we get to this warehouse, like it's a fucking old-school 90s warehouse rave but with cars, everything from riced 106s to hypercars, you should have seen it. They then start running a race, plus there's this girl that was rolling in a RWB Porsche 911 that comes along, I shit you not. No idea how much she tuned that straight six but she was rolling with me and Kimberly all the way through this stuff, like I mentioned earlier."
"Seriously? RWB got a branch over here? I heard the work they did on 911s is insane, the panel work is so precise, it's crazy." Ryan replied, looking over
"Well, it's one of a kind work, I haven't seen anything like it on a 911. I like mine untouched, do it like Magnus Walker if you're going to make a 911 look cool." Ross added, as he took a can of Monster off the table, a little warmer as it wasn't straight from the fridge, but still worth a swig anyway.
"Damn, at this rate, you're going to be sponsored by Monster, you've got a cooler and everything." Ross laughed, as Ryan shrugged, looking at Regina.
"Well, she's not a fan, what can I say. Different crowd, but at least she doesn't drink Rockstar. That shit melts my mouth." Ryan gave a simple nod back, as he put his own can down, looking over at the car once again, then back to Ross and Kimberly.
"I can't believe nobody took that Renault, or that BMW for that matter."
"I don't do French cars, Ryan..."
"But it's a mid-engined 80s beast!"
"Still French. And anyway, I saw that Escort and couldn't take my eyes off it. Nothing like a fast Ford."
"You got me on that one, they are sweet as anything. They'll be faster off the line than your Scoobie, or Skyline for that matter, Kimberly. Top end isn't as good though." Ryan added, looking over as the two engineers headed off, doing some diagnostics on a couple of laptops on the other side of the makeshift tent garage, going over any last data sets before they got a practice run in.
-----
Seb looked over, pulling out a beanie from his trouser pocket, slinging the light blue beanie over his shaved head, before putting the phone down.
"I don't want to scream at a camera for a living, I like the wind to do that for me..." He added, chuckling, as he sat up again, shaking his head at her pun.
"Just don't, Ellie. It's so bad." He added, kissing her on the forehead as he clambered up, heading to the door, going to take a look at the scene outside. It was still glorious, and the weather didn't look like it was going to change any time soon. The sight of parachutes, or canopies above could be seen, a load that had been sent up it seemed. Walking onto a patch of grass, he sat down and looked up, taking a good long look, as he took a photo on his phone, before then looking over to Ellie. Sitting back up, he notioned for her to sit down by him, as he got the phone's camera up, flicking the view. He took a selfie of himself and Ellie, a distinct smirk on his face as he looked over.
"What? I thought we might as well." He added, kissing her on the cheek, smiling at her with a distinct beam.
The Scot hugged Kimberly, the embrace strong as he could only feel good, happy to see her come back, without a whole host of cops or her in a prison.
"Thank fuck you came, Kimberly. Just stay safe...that was a step too far." He said, shaking his head, looking over at Joanne, giving a half-smile before turning back to Kimberly.
"We used to be able to do this, but we've got Mia to look after. We can't carry on, not when the heat is that strong. They're taking the piss now, we drove onto an active airport and people still bat eyelids. We're lucky not to be in prison for years for what we did, that was insane." Ross added, acutely aware that he was the one that enjoyed it the most, the law breaking, the rule bending, the speed. But something had hit him, like he had realized just how close it was, and how much he wanted to protect Kimberly. Once, he could do this, on his own, no risks. But now he had a baby to look after, and her mother would have gone to prison if she hadn't have been so good behind the wheel. He could take whatever risks he wanted, but he wanted Mia to have a father to look after her, even if he was a street racer, taking mad risks. This could only go on so long, he told himself, the adrenaline rush was great and the speed was unbeatable, but it was going to have to be cut out, or at least, done in some way that wasn't as risky as that. It wasn't a crew anymore, it was just lunacy.
Ross clambered back into the Impreza after the plates were changed, the classic beast rumbling as the Boxer came alive, Ross only happy that the two were back. Putting some Chilled Music on, he drove out of the layby slowly, following Kimberly and Joanne. The 911 roared, as they took it slower, heading on the Kentish A Roads, off the M2 and A2 towards Lydden Hill, on the other side of this long county. It was a long way, and the roads were virtually empty, no traffic at all, this being a nice, chilled out journey.
It took about an hour and a half, due to the slower route they took, going through villages and hooning it on single-laned roads, Xenon lights and the winding tracks giving all three a good run for their money, and it was a good run, after all the madness of London. It felt good to be away from it all, and Ross felt happy, at least, content that it wasn't going to be as dangerous as that again, not for a little while at least. He couldn't help but feel that despite the whole surge of the moment, there hadn't really been a point to the race. They'd done it for the hell of it, and it felt like there was nothing on the line for all the risk. Not like Dubai, where they made the delivery and made their money, it felt like it was simply jailbait, a free prison sentence for no point whatsoever. It wouldn't be fun to explain to his cellie he wasn't in on a beef that involved some sort of drugs or violence, but a souped up Impreza, that much he knew. And he knew Kimberly couldn't go to prison, no matter what, he would not let that happen. Maybe he was a flawed soul, but she couldn't follow him into the worst of what he did, Ross only thought to himself.
-----------
Part Five: Crossing Paths
Lydden Hill (Rallycross)
The Next Day
1pm
Waking up in the small caravan, Ross could hear the noise of engines, as he looked across at the clock. He'd stumbled in here the night before, Kimberly going some other way, and it had an effect on him- he had completely lost track of time, and slept in.
"Fuck." He only threw himself out of bed, and grabbed whatever clothes he could, going with a pair of thermals underneath a predominantly black Sparco racing suit, heading out. Kimberly had been thrown into a different tent, and he was quick to find her, looking in as he saw her just nod off. He hated himself when he did this, but he had to, one way or another.
"Kimberly...babe, sorry I missed you last night." He said, as he clambered down, crawling into the small tent, kissing her on the cheek, looking over at the phone.
"Chatted to Maria? Crap...I wanted to really see Mia too. Oh well, I'm sure she's busy with other things. You okay?" He asked, looking across, aware he'd made a bit of a goof. Still, he was sure she could forgive her, and he'd probably make it up to her at some point later in the day, that much he could say.
"We should probably go and meet Ryan in a moment."
----------
Ryan looked over the sight of the cars in the makeshift garage, under a large white tent, with a couple of mechanics working away on the two Ford Fiesta STs, both equipped with Olsbergs bodykits and up to FIA standards for Rallycross. They weren't in the Global RX or anything along those lines, but when it came to one-off events, this was an opportunity to make a little money, in a highly-setup event. They both had 550bhp, and barely weighed over a ton, with the 0-60 of these cars being simply insane. They were set with short gearboxes, and while they wouldn't fly over 130, there was no need, even at a fast RX circuit such as Lydden Hill- acceleration and instantaneous power were key, and with the anti-lag and turbochargers installed, they could provide that. It was shocking just how quick they were- and on dirt, it felt even more insane to experience. 0-60 in just over a couple of seconds, on gravel, was like being strapped to a rocketship. And he was a local boy, being from Canterbury- this was his local race circuit, even closer to Brands Hatch, so being able to go around in a rallycross-spec Ford felt incredible, even beating the nice amount of money that came from coming along to the Invitational. There were a lot of analysts here, most of these cars prepped in a manner for the 2016 season, and it generally felt like a good place to make a good racing weekend happen.
The cars were lined in a white and blue livery, sponsored by Sparco, the two both identical, apart from the window stickers in the rear quarter, of their respective surnames on each respective car. It didn't look too dissimilar from the M-Sport WRC livery, albeit with a greater focus on the blue, and the lack of Ford logos. A couple of engineers worked on the cars, currently sitting under Ryan's, taking a look at the suspension attached. He'd given it a go earlier, and while Ryan hadn't done anything to it, he felt the rear was a little too soft, just not sturdy enough to hold in the corners and keep stability. Ryan's Simpson race suit was a matching white and blue, his helmet sitting on the roof of his car, the Simpson X Bandit, the one that he always used in racing- hooked up with a Stillo radio system.
Ryan smirked, as he looked over at the two cars once more, peering over at the couple of stone-scratches that sat on the side panels of the bodywork, cutting a little into the paint, as he then stood up.
"These are fucking awesome. I'm tempted to go into RX full-time, they are mindblowingly fast." He said, as he looked around the garage, taking a seat on a plastic chair by the side of his Fiesta, grabbing a can of Monster and sipping it down, looking across to Regina.
"And hey, Ross and Kimberly should be here. Crazy guys, they were racing in London. Illegally. Should be good to see them again." Ryan added, as he slurped a bit more of the energy drink down, as he saw a distinct pair walk around the corner of the white vehicle tent.
Ross walked in, Kimberly by his side. Ryan turned to see the pair, both in their race suits, as he smirked at them both.
"Ah, speak of the devil. Good to see ya, Ross." Ryan added, walking over as he hugged the Scot, Ross chuckling a little, as he looked over.
"Likewise. Anyway, you said that there's racing to be had?" He asked the Southerner, as Ryan nodded, looking around.
"Indeed, we've got an Invitational Rallycross event. With me being the second placed FIA GT3 Europe driver and some experience of rallycross means they wanted us here. Plus I live down the road in Canterbury. Just a one-off, but a bit of cash to keep the job search going, you know." He added, as he looked outside, the clear sky and mid-day beating down.
"So, you want to see what you'll be driving? I'll leave it to you to fight over what you're going to have, but it's a really good selection." Ryan added, as he nodded to the two to follow behind, keeping an eye on Regina and seeing if she'd come along.
"Sure."
Walking a couple of tents down the paddock, the sight of the scale of this event was simply awesome to see. There was going to be a party, clearly- this part of the paddock was for all the vehicles, which were passing in and out occasionally by the barriers, but beyond this, there was a couple of festival tents set up, some with sponsors and some with music, fans crowding around to see some of the other warm-up events going on here.
"Anyway, here's the choice. Take your pick. Ford Escort Mk2, Fiat 131 Abarth, BMW E30 M3. Oh, and that Renault 5 Turbo, the driver said he can't come down this weekend so we have the keys for it. ALl with rollcage, all fairly similar in power to weight ratios, all up for the Classics Event that's on tonight at 5pm. We've got a Warm-Up heat going on ourselves at 6, your race is four laps, on the full circuit. Since a few people didn't show up, it's just one heat for you- our Final is tomorrow morning, and it's going to be...fucking mental." Ryan simply said, the small tent packed with various classic cars, from Opel Mantas to Metro 6R4s to even an old-school Ford Capri, kitted out for rally. The four looked mean, right at the end of the tent, and looked well maintained. They were fitted with off-road tyres, and apart from the safety modifications, were almost untouched, apart from the Ford which had clearly been refitted with a K-Series Rover engine, to deliver a higher redline, and had the bonnet open.
"As you can tell, you got really lucky. If I could, I'd be racing that Beemer, but we've got other racing to do. So, I'll leave you to it- just let Beatrice in the office know which one you'll go with, you're signed up but they don't know what car so let them know. They'll lend you the keys afterwards, and the car's yours for the day. There's a brief on at 3pm, just laying down the rules and all."
"And this is why I don't race for my living...I prefer a lack of rules, fastest built car and all. Aye, that's where it's at." Ross added, as Ryan chuckled.
"Maybe, but I prefer not getting arrested, you know?"
"True, I suppose you have that on your side." Ross digressed, as Ryan shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, whatever goes- but we party just as hard, so you aren't missing out by coming here. You probably saw it, but they've got the Ferris Wheel set up, fireworks too, massive fucking party. It's going to be sweet. I can't drink, but you can knock yourselves out after you're done." Ryan added, as Ross nodded, looking about the cars.
The Ford was colored blue, as was the BMW, the Fiat a bland yellow-orange, while the Renault was in a matt black, the pack of cars ranging from the mid 70s to the late 80s, but all classics in their own right. RWD, all delivering around 250 to 300bhp, though weight of course, made this all relative. They were closely contested, and Ross was finding it difficult to choose, as he looked around.
"That sounds mental, Ryan. These cars, they're all really good. Tell you what, I have an idea. Kimberly, how about you make the first choice? I might as well be the gentleman here." He said, hugging her, kissing her on the cheek as Ryan cringed a little inside, knowing that the two were so close, just reminding him in a funny way of how single he was right now. Him and Regina were good friends, but he had never even considered it- and didn't really want to, knowing it wouldn't ever work in a million years. But from his perspective, the Scottish lad that he knew since they first met, three years ago back at Knockhill at a racing meet, that he had gone from being just a street racer and someone who liked fast cars and working on them to a real four-wheel tarmac terrorist, being able to do some seriously fast things. It had been a good friendship, that much could be said, and after Ross had met Kimberly, Ryan could only tell that the two had good things ahead- even if it was a little weird to see them hug right here.
--------
Headcorn Aerodrome, Kent
The scene was abuzz, the sight of planes taking off and landing a thing to see, and the whole day had gone fairly quick. Various Cessnas, some with skydivers, some without. But here, a particular two were looking over, rather inconspicuously. Seb sat about, the black T-shirt he wore and shorts showing he was a little casual outside of his jumping gear, which seemed about right for a place like this. The vibe was busy, tandems going through, and other jumpers getting themselves set up, but it was clear, that the two fliers were here.
From within the packing hall, the sight of the couple of clouds in the sky that could be seen just out the door. Packing was a difficult thing to learn, but for Seb, it had become something of a naturality, automatic, as he finished up, pulling the closing loop through. Putting the white and red rig aside, he looked over to his female companion, his girlfriend and fellow jumper, sitting down as he watched her pack.
"This is gonna be good. Weather is still forecast to be excellent, we got one good jump in together at least. But this demo is going to be even better. Them flying us out, we go with smoke, straight into the party." Seb said, as he put his Oakleys back on, leaning back on the mat. Today, they'd already jumped once, but the demo at Lydden Hill felt even better, being an evening drop. A sunset lift, and they were going to wingsuit in before deploying, bring the spectacle to the party, something that meant the jump ticket was paid for as a result.
"Should we call up and tell them to have shots ready for us as soon as we land?" He added, chuckling as he pulled out his phone, swiping through YouTube, going onto their page.
"TheWingman" and more specifically, the video titled "Lyngen Alps SkiBASE- Close Call!" were what he was looking for. The Austrian was a little more serious with the titling than Ellie could be, but still though, their channel had gotten a serious hit in views from that video, plus Ellie's sub-channel bringing in a hell of a lot of views. Right now, it was pushing 50,000, and the comments ranged from "It looks like greenscreen!" to "I want to do this one day!". All exited and crazed comments, but to Seb, it was a good run and he liked to tease the internet with stuff like this. Living a life less ordinary, as he watched the edited footage, beginning from the top of the ski run. He could see the beginnings of the avalanche and the winding route, using Ellie's footage too, both of them in view as they headed down from the switches of cameras, before it came to the point that they ditched the skis and took flight, the view of the rushing snow hurtling over the cliff from Seb's helmet-mounted rear facing camera catching just how epic an escape it was. Flying down, he had everything to the beach, and per Ellie's request, made sure that nothing of their romp was in there. It didn't get old, and here at this DZ, they knew full well that these were the two that had pulled it off.
Seven Lions played throughout, and while it was no Sail, it just went well with the whole thing, Seb thought to himself. Flicking through, he turned to Ellie once again, just thinking back to it all.
"We're not YouTube celebrities yet, but we're racking up the views, right?"
"Thank fuck you came, Kimberly. Just stay safe...that was a step too far." He said, shaking his head, looking over at Joanne, giving a half-smile before turning back to Kimberly.
"We used to be able to do this, but we've got Mia to look after. We can't carry on, not when the heat is that strong. They're taking the piss now, we drove onto an active airport and people still bat eyelids. We're lucky not to be in prison for years for what we did, that was insane." Ross added, acutely aware that he was the one that enjoyed it the most, the law breaking, the rule bending, the speed. But something had hit him, like he had realized just how close it was, and how much he wanted to protect Kimberly. Once, he could do this, on his own, no risks. But now he had a baby to look after, and her mother would have gone to prison if she hadn't have been so good behind the wheel. He could take whatever risks he wanted, but he wanted Mia to have a father to look after her, even if he was a street racer, taking mad risks. This could only go on so long, he told himself, the adrenaline rush was great and the speed was unbeatable, but it was going to have to be cut out, or at least, done in some way that wasn't as risky as that. It wasn't a crew anymore, it was just lunacy.
Ross clambered back into the Impreza after the plates were changed, the classic beast rumbling as the Boxer came alive, Ross only happy that the two were back. Putting some Chilled Music on, he drove out of the layby slowly, following Kimberly and Joanne. The 911 roared, as they took it slower, heading on the Kentish A Roads, off the M2 and A2 towards Lydden Hill, on the other side of this long county. It was a long way, and the roads were virtually empty, no traffic at all, this being a nice, chilled out journey.
It took about an hour and a half, due to the slower route they took, going through villages and hooning it on single-laned roads, Xenon lights and the winding tracks giving all three a good run for their money, and it was a good run, after all the madness of London. It felt good to be away from it all, and Ross felt happy, at least, content that it wasn't going to be as dangerous as that again, not for a little while at least. He couldn't help but feel that despite the whole surge of the moment, there hadn't really been a point to the race. They'd done it for the hell of it, and it felt like there was nothing on the line for all the risk. Not like Dubai, where they made the delivery and made their money, it felt like it was simply jailbait, a free prison sentence for no point whatsoever. It wouldn't be fun to explain to his cellie he wasn't in on a beef that involved some sort of drugs or violence, but a souped up Impreza, that much he knew. And he knew Kimberly couldn't go to prison, no matter what, he would not let that happen. Maybe he was a flawed soul, but she couldn't follow him into the worst of what he did, Ross only thought to himself.
-----------
Part Five: Crossing Paths
Lydden Hill (Rallycross)
The Next Day
1pm
Waking up in the small caravan, Ross could hear the noise of engines, as he looked across at the clock. He'd stumbled in here the night before, Kimberly going some other way, and it had an effect on him- he had completely lost track of time, and slept in.
"Fuck." He only threw himself out of bed, and grabbed whatever clothes he could, going with a pair of thermals underneath a predominantly black Sparco racing suit, heading out. Kimberly had been thrown into a different tent, and he was quick to find her, looking in as he saw her just nod off. He hated himself when he did this, but he had to, one way or another.
"Kimberly...babe, sorry I missed you last night." He said, as he clambered down, crawling into the small tent, kissing her on the cheek, looking over at the phone.
"Chatted to Maria? Crap...I wanted to really see Mia too. Oh well, I'm sure she's busy with other things. You okay?" He asked, looking across, aware he'd made a bit of a goof. Still, he was sure she could forgive her, and he'd probably make it up to her at some point later in the day, that much he could say.
"We should probably go and meet Ryan in a moment."
----------
Ryan looked over the sight of the cars in the makeshift garage, under a large white tent, with a couple of mechanics working away on the two Ford Fiesta STs, both equipped with Olsbergs bodykits and up to FIA standards for Rallycross. They weren't in the Global RX or anything along those lines, but when it came to one-off events, this was an opportunity to make a little money, in a highly-setup event. They both had 550bhp, and barely weighed over a ton, with the 0-60 of these cars being simply insane. They were set with short gearboxes, and while they wouldn't fly over 130, there was no need, even at a fast RX circuit such as Lydden Hill- acceleration and instantaneous power were key, and with the anti-lag and turbochargers installed, they could provide that. It was shocking just how quick they were- and on dirt, it felt even more insane to experience. 0-60 in just over a couple of seconds, on gravel, was like being strapped to a rocketship. And he was a local boy, being from Canterbury- this was his local race circuit, even closer to Brands Hatch, so being able to go around in a rallycross-spec Ford felt incredible, even beating the nice amount of money that came from coming along to the Invitational. There were a lot of analysts here, most of these cars prepped in a manner for the 2016 season, and it generally felt like a good place to make a good racing weekend happen.
The cars were lined in a white and blue livery, sponsored by Sparco, the two both identical, apart from the window stickers in the rear quarter, of their respective surnames on each respective car. It didn't look too dissimilar from the M-Sport WRC livery, albeit with a greater focus on the blue, and the lack of Ford logos. A couple of engineers worked on the cars, currently sitting under Ryan's, taking a look at the suspension attached. He'd given it a go earlier, and while Ryan hadn't done anything to it, he felt the rear was a little too soft, just not sturdy enough to hold in the corners and keep stability. Ryan's Simpson race suit was a matching white and blue, his helmet sitting on the roof of his car, the Simpson X Bandit, the one that he always used in racing- hooked up with a Stillo radio system.
Ryan smirked, as he looked over at the two cars once more, peering over at the couple of stone-scratches that sat on the side panels of the bodywork, cutting a little into the paint, as he then stood up.
"These are fucking awesome. I'm tempted to go into RX full-time, they are mindblowingly fast." He said, as he looked around the garage, taking a seat on a plastic chair by the side of his Fiesta, grabbing a can of Monster and sipping it down, looking across to Regina.
"And hey, Ross and Kimberly should be here. Crazy guys, they were racing in London. Illegally. Should be good to see them again." Ryan added, as he slurped a bit more of the energy drink down, as he saw a distinct pair walk around the corner of the white vehicle tent.
Ross walked in, Kimberly by his side. Ryan turned to see the pair, both in their race suits, as he smirked at them both.
"Ah, speak of the devil. Good to see ya, Ross." Ryan added, walking over as he hugged the Scot, Ross chuckling a little, as he looked over.
"Likewise. Anyway, you said that there's racing to be had?" He asked the Southerner, as Ryan nodded, looking around.
"Indeed, we've got an Invitational Rallycross event. With me being the second placed FIA GT3 Europe driver and some experience of rallycross means they wanted us here. Plus I live down the road in Canterbury. Just a one-off, but a bit of cash to keep the job search going, you know." He added, as he looked outside, the clear sky and mid-day beating down.
"So, you want to see what you'll be driving? I'll leave it to you to fight over what you're going to have, but it's a really good selection." Ryan added, as he nodded to the two to follow behind, keeping an eye on Regina and seeing if she'd come along.
"Sure."
Walking a couple of tents down the paddock, the sight of the scale of this event was simply awesome to see. There was going to be a party, clearly- this part of the paddock was for all the vehicles, which were passing in and out occasionally by the barriers, but beyond this, there was a couple of festival tents set up, some with sponsors and some with music, fans crowding around to see some of the other warm-up events going on here.
"Anyway, here's the choice. Take your pick. Ford Escort Mk2, Fiat 131 Abarth, BMW E30 M3. Oh, and that Renault 5 Turbo, the driver said he can't come down this weekend so we have the keys for it. ALl with rollcage, all fairly similar in power to weight ratios, all up for the Classics Event that's on tonight at 5pm. We've got a Warm-Up heat going on ourselves at 6, your race is four laps, on the full circuit. Since a few people didn't show up, it's just one heat for you- our Final is tomorrow morning, and it's going to be...fucking mental." Ryan simply said, the small tent packed with various classic cars, from Opel Mantas to Metro 6R4s to even an old-school Ford Capri, kitted out for rally. The four looked mean, right at the end of the tent, and looked well maintained. They were fitted with off-road tyres, and apart from the safety modifications, were almost untouched, apart from the Ford which had clearly been refitted with a K-Series Rover engine, to deliver a higher redline, and had the bonnet open.
"As you can tell, you got really lucky. If I could, I'd be racing that Beemer, but we've got other racing to do. So, I'll leave you to it- just let Beatrice in the office know which one you'll go with, you're signed up but they don't know what car so let them know. They'll lend you the keys afterwards, and the car's yours for the day. There's a brief on at 3pm, just laying down the rules and all."
"And this is why I don't race for my living...I prefer a lack of rules, fastest built car and all. Aye, that's where it's at." Ross added, as Ryan chuckled.
"Maybe, but I prefer not getting arrested, you know?"
"True, I suppose you have that on your side." Ross digressed, as Ryan shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, whatever goes- but we party just as hard, so you aren't missing out by coming here. You probably saw it, but they've got the Ferris Wheel set up, fireworks too, massive fucking party. It's going to be sweet. I can't drink, but you can knock yourselves out after you're done." Ryan added, as Ross nodded, looking about the cars.
The Ford was colored blue, as was the BMW, the Fiat a bland yellow-orange, while the Renault was in a matt black, the pack of cars ranging from the mid 70s to the late 80s, but all classics in their own right. RWD, all delivering around 250 to 300bhp, though weight of course, made this all relative. They were closely contested, and Ross was finding it difficult to choose, as he looked around.
"That sounds mental, Ryan. These cars, they're all really good. Tell you what, I have an idea. Kimberly, how about you make the first choice? I might as well be the gentleman here." He said, hugging her, kissing her on the cheek as Ryan cringed a little inside, knowing that the two were so close, just reminding him in a funny way of how single he was right now. Him and Regina were good friends, but he had never even considered it- and didn't really want to, knowing it wouldn't ever work in a million years. But from his perspective, the Scottish lad that he knew since they first met, three years ago back at Knockhill at a racing meet, that he had gone from being just a street racer and someone who liked fast cars and working on them to a real four-wheel tarmac terrorist, being able to do some seriously fast things. It had been a good friendship, that much could be said, and after Ross had met Kimberly, Ryan could only tell that the two had good things ahead- even if it was a little weird to see them hug right here.
--------
Headcorn Aerodrome, Kent
The scene was abuzz, the sight of planes taking off and landing a thing to see, and the whole day had gone fairly quick. Various Cessnas, some with skydivers, some without. But here, a particular two were looking over, rather inconspicuously. Seb sat about, the black T-shirt he wore and shorts showing he was a little casual outside of his jumping gear, which seemed about right for a place like this. The vibe was busy, tandems going through, and other jumpers getting themselves set up, but it was clear, that the two fliers were here.
From within the packing hall, the sight of the couple of clouds in the sky that could be seen just out the door. Packing was a difficult thing to learn, but for Seb, it had become something of a naturality, automatic, as he finished up, pulling the closing loop through. Putting the white and red rig aside, he looked over to his female companion, his girlfriend and fellow jumper, sitting down as he watched her pack.
"This is gonna be good. Weather is still forecast to be excellent, we got one good jump in together at least. But this demo is going to be even better. Them flying us out, we go with smoke, straight into the party." Seb said, as he put his Oakleys back on, leaning back on the mat. Today, they'd already jumped once, but the demo at Lydden Hill felt even better, being an evening drop. A sunset lift, and they were going to wingsuit in before deploying, bring the spectacle to the party, something that meant the jump ticket was paid for as a result.
"Should we call up and tell them to have shots ready for us as soon as we land?" He added, chuckling as he pulled out his phone, swiping through YouTube, going onto their page.
"TheWingman" and more specifically, the video titled "Lyngen Alps SkiBASE- Close Call!" were what he was looking for. The Austrian was a little more serious with the titling than Ellie could be, but still though, their channel had gotten a serious hit in views from that video, plus Ellie's sub-channel bringing in a hell of a lot of views. Right now, it was pushing 50,000, and the comments ranged from "It looks like greenscreen!" to "I want to do this one day!". All exited and crazed comments, but to Seb, it was a good run and he liked to tease the internet with stuff like this. Living a life less ordinary, as he watched the edited footage, beginning from the top of the ski run. He could see the beginnings of the avalanche and the winding route, using Ellie's footage too, both of them in view as they headed down from the switches of cameras, before it came to the point that they ditched the skis and took flight, the view of the rushing snow hurtling over the cliff from Seb's helmet-mounted rear facing camera catching just how epic an escape it was. Flying down, he had everything to the beach, and per Ellie's request, made sure that nothing of their romp was in there. It didn't get old, and here at this DZ, they knew full well that these were the two that had pulled it off.
Seven Lions played throughout, and while it was no Sail, it just went well with the whole thing, Seb thought to himself. Flicking through, he turned to Ellie once again, just thinking back to it all.
"We're not YouTube celebrities yet, but we're racking up the views, right?"
Parts:
Part One: Pole Position
Part Two: Horsepower
Part Three:
Windchill
Part Four: Night Work
Part Five: Crossing Paths
Part One: Pole Position
Part Two: Horsepower
Part Three:
Windchill
Part Four: Night Work
Part Five: Crossing Paths
Bump! (Skyth, if you can't, PM me if there is any particular request).
Ross saw the M5s rush past, as he put his foot down harder, knowing this couldn't be good.
"Fuck, they got unmarked Interceptors on us, they're going to run our plates...Kimberly, you best head south, the Dome's going to be bad..." He said to himself, knowing he wasn't on the phone. He had to get back, as he called her up, praying he could get into it on a conference. The cops weren't good enough to track calls, that much Ross knew would be the case. But it would be enough to give them leverage, and they didn't want to get singled out.
Calling them again, he turned hard into a parking garage, losing the brunt of cops, as he drove up into it's depths, looking for exits and ways out before he stopped.
"Kimberly, it's fucked, there's cops crawling here! Okay, I'm going to text you a GPS co-ordinate, bear with me...if this works, just meet me there, I'll be waiting for you, we can't stay together or else they'll focus their resources. Just go for it, I'll be waiting." Ross added, simply as he got through, frantic before he looked around, the Impreza's soft burble the only thing he could guess was going to save him this time.
Flooring it through Grenwich, Ross was back on the road, the spray kicking up a little, as he drove up one way systems, up anything, just absolutely hard on the gas. The more corners he put up, the more the cops were confused, and left, right, left had worked well to lose them for the most part, as he headed out for the east, towards Kent. He could only pray that Kimberly had gotten the text, and could run from the cops.
---
Somewhere outside Gravesend
The cops were long gone, and the car pulled over, Ross already at work on changing the plates. He had already flicked them over, and could only guess that things had totally gone to shit- the cops wouldn't have gotten his ID, not with the scheme he was running with the plates on these cars. It wasn't a free ticket, it was a lot of money to make sure that the police never traced the real owner of the car, and it could at least make sure he looked like a joyrider. Perhaps that he was, but in a car that he did own, and build himself. It was complicated to explain at best, but Ross knew that he had to go back to legal plates, and any police patrols would find zero dirt on this Subaru in particular, any similarities difficult to explain for that reason. At least, he hoped.
The layby was small and in a woodland, and had been the place where Ross had wanted Kimberly and Joanne to meet him, being able to figure this out from a random search on his GPS. None the less, Gravesend was an old Kentish shipyard, and here, on a ring road around it, they were far enough from London. Screwing the last plate in, he went back around, just watching, waiting. He didn't want to call her- but could guess she was smart enough to make it here without attracting cops. Looking around, he looked over at the scratches and marks on his car, tutting a little.
"Fucker." He simply said, as he went back, grabbing his phone from the centre console, before stepping back out. There was someone he remembered, someone he could probably contact. He prayed he was in the area, last he had chatted to him, he was in the area.
"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the phone responded, Ross quickly identifying the racing driver of a friend he had. It was a story for another day, how him and Ryan were friends, one that seemed to not really flash through his head at the moment. But he knew that it was a good one, one that had worked out mutually for the both of them, both speak freaks and both at the helm of some serious machinery.
"Ryan, it's Ross- you said you were at Lydden Hill this weekend? The rallycross, right?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"Well...we're running from London, the racing scene's been cut up. We'll come to you, please say there's some Amateur stuff going on for Sunday."
"There is, actually. Vintage stuff, if you want in....we could probably cut you a couple of cars, if that's what you're asking."
"Well, call us a late entry."
"Classic Ross, you fucking owe me. I'll sort it. Anyway, you stay safe, don't get yourself arrested."
"Cheers pal, much appreciated. I'll see you there." Ross replied, his classic Scottish accent selling the rest, as he put the phone down. He was pleasantly pleased, as he moved back. He would tell Kimberly about this at some point, and had half an idea of doing this, but the fact that any chance of doing any street racing in London was now over, meant that this was the best alternative. He was always good at doing things on the fly, he thought to himself, as he continued to watch the road for two fast cars, preferably not followed by cops, from the woodland layby.
"Fuck, they got unmarked Interceptors on us, they're going to run our plates...Kimberly, you best head south, the Dome's going to be bad..." He said to himself, knowing he wasn't on the phone. He had to get back, as he called her up, praying he could get into it on a conference. The cops weren't good enough to track calls, that much Ross knew would be the case. But it would be enough to give them leverage, and they didn't want to get singled out.
Calling them again, he turned hard into a parking garage, losing the brunt of cops, as he drove up into it's depths, looking for exits and ways out before he stopped.
"Kimberly, it's fucked, there's cops crawling here! Okay, I'm going to text you a GPS co-ordinate, bear with me...if this works, just meet me there, I'll be waiting for you, we can't stay together or else they'll focus their resources. Just go for it, I'll be waiting." Ross added, simply as he got through, frantic before he looked around, the Impreza's soft burble the only thing he could guess was going to save him this time.
Flooring it through Grenwich, Ross was back on the road, the spray kicking up a little, as he drove up one way systems, up anything, just absolutely hard on the gas. The more corners he put up, the more the cops were confused, and left, right, left had worked well to lose them for the most part, as he headed out for the east, towards Kent. He could only pray that Kimberly had gotten the text, and could run from the cops.
---
Somewhere outside Gravesend
The cops were long gone, and the car pulled over, Ross already at work on changing the plates. He had already flicked them over, and could only guess that things had totally gone to shit- the cops wouldn't have gotten his ID, not with the scheme he was running with the plates on these cars. It wasn't a free ticket, it was a lot of money to make sure that the police never traced the real owner of the car, and it could at least make sure he looked like a joyrider. Perhaps that he was, but in a car that he did own, and build himself. It was complicated to explain at best, but Ross knew that he had to go back to legal plates, and any police patrols would find zero dirt on this Subaru in particular, any similarities difficult to explain for that reason. At least, he hoped.
The layby was small and in a woodland, and had been the place where Ross had wanted Kimberly and Joanne to meet him, being able to figure this out from a random search on his GPS. None the less, Gravesend was an old Kentish shipyard, and here, on a ring road around it, they were far enough from London. Screwing the last plate in, he went back around, just watching, waiting. He didn't want to call her- but could guess she was smart enough to make it here without attracting cops. Looking around, he looked over at the scratches and marks on his car, tutting a little.
"Fucker." He simply said, as he went back, grabbing his phone from the centre console, before stepping back out. There was someone he remembered, someone he could probably contact. He prayed he was in the area, last he had chatted to him, he was in the area.
"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the phone responded, Ross quickly identifying the racing driver of a friend he had. It was a story for another day, how him and Ryan were friends, one that seemed to not really flash through his head at the moment. But he knew that it was a good one, one that had worked out mutually for the both of them, both speak freaks and both at the helm of some serious machinery.
"Ryan, it's Ross- you said you were at Lydden Hill this weekend? The rallycross, right?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"Well...we're running from London, the racing scene's been cut up. We'll come to you, please say there's some Amateur stuff going on for Sunday."
"There is, actually. Vintage stuff, if you want in....we could probably cut you a couple of cars, if that's what you're asking."
"Well, call us a late entry."
"Classic Ross, you fucking owe me. I'll sort it. Anyway, you stay safe, don't get yourself arrested."
"Cheers pal, much appreciated. I'll see you there." Ross replied, his classic Scottish accent selling the rest, as he put the phone down. He was pleasantly pleased, as he moved back. He would tell Kimberly about this at some point, and had half an idea of doing this, but the fact that any chance of doing any street racing in London was now over, meant that this was the best alternative. He was always good at doing things on the fly, he thought to himself, as he continued to watch the road for two fast cars, preferably not followed by cops, from the woodland layby.
ONL, Queen, could you slip a post?
I'm a little under the pump at the minute with uni, I'll get a post up when I get the chance.
Story of my life, my friend.
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