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8 mos ago
Current 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!

Most Recent Posts

Soundtrack: Night Tapes - Drifting







Sophie and James Speight are coming out! I've always wanted to play with a brother-sister partnership, and it should be ready in about 3-4 hours or so. One is rather powerful, the other does spreadsheets!

(EDIT: Now complete! I always work on my sheets so typos, small pieces might alter but the overall principle is there!)
@RisingRobin

A rare RP I actually would be very, very keen for, given it's something quite different. Was literally thinking this should be a thing as I love the setting / feel!
“That doesn’t mean she has to suffer more. Don’t you think she’s been through enough?” Borys countered Oksana’s words, honestly a little bit disgusted with her callousness toward her Babushka.


Oksana shook her head to Borys's comment, drunk yet willing to die for her grandmother. She got that feeling. Like the he actually cared about someone for the first time in the while though, that was new, but care for her grandmother was mutual.
"There's enough pure bullshit on this place to cover our tracks. Quite literally, I spent the entire inventory of what I had left behind here in concealment glpyhs, and honestly, she'll probably list off the five different times I visited two years ago. And, we're out of town. Relax. I wouldn't have taken us here if I didn't feel comfortable." Oksana replied, as the conversation ebbed and flowed. The ketamine might have had a slight effect on it, but the comedy of Borys being more attached to Oksana's grandmother than Roxie was herself, well, that was gold. It had to be said, Borys certainly had matured up, even if he was half cut....and well, Oksana should have been a bit better there.

Rowan sipped her tea before asking Oksana. “How do we recognize the former Security Apparatus in Polavia?” Rowan thought she knew the answer but was curious how Oksana would answer. Besides one of the others might need to know the answer. She found the other woman’s humor compatible with her own. She found her amusing and liked her sass.


"When you see them, you'll know. Somehow, I feel I might refer to that later." Oksana chuckled, sipping away more of the cup of tea, and putting the cup back on the tray, ready to go back inside to Babushka once they were on the way out. She wasn't unclean or anything.




“One ward-carrying cop and we’re fucked even with false identities. They know our faces, the forged papers will have to rely on changed appearance to be effective here in the first place.” Borys pointed out a hole in Felix’ plan that he thought saw, probably not helping the shapeshifter’s situation by being yet another voice that interrupted his briefing instead of waiting for him to finish. “Might as well work the underworld connection angle and get smuggled out or take the train as the first option and only use forged papers to disappear once we’re abroad.” Likely in motherfucking Liboli, he thought glumly to himself, almost reaching for the wine at the thought.


"Point taken." Felix replied midway through, shrugging his shoulders. "But at the rate you're going, your face is getting rearranged by said cop if we get as shitfaced as we did back there. That's where I'm going with it, we get abroad, or at least, build up distance through some anonymity. So we can get the fuck out of here. We're in your country now, so I mean, pick a spot." Felix sighed, as if he was talking to schoolkids who were truant and pissed up.

There wasn't much for it, because Felix, after a few shots, felt just as truant.

With a brief, and an incredibly rough idea, the team had places to be. Flasks full of soup and tea, and weapons set, backpacks on, they were on the move.




Day 2: 00:23:02
Grestin Monastery,
Somewhere overlooking the the village of Pristupin,
Libor Province,
Republic of Polavia


Act One: Regroup


Part Two: Running for the Train




Moving through the woods, the team were keeping a tactical sweep, the moss cushioning noise, all members of the team in all angles. This was some tactical stuff, but the forest seemed as containing as evil as they were poking it.

"Roxie, anything ahead?" Felix asked, 417 to shoulder, as he moved back into a more patrolling pose, far too full to even consider shifting to his lion form.

"Nothing that's tingling." The Druid replied, the ruin of the old Chapel monastery providing a useful landmark. Cover, too, if they needed it, but mostly an opportunity for visuals on Felix's plan. As shit as it was, finding if the coast was clear would get them out.

The team moved tactically, two by two. Rowan and Felix in the lead, Silas in the middle, as the team's medic, with Roxie and Borys keeping the tail, eyes towards back.

"Eyes up. Observation Post is ahead. Roxie, Borys, get on point." The voice held crisp, as Roxie nodded to Borys, the bush moving forwards ahead of Felix, her Vityaz in hands moving through the stone relic. It was quite overgrown, Chapel long since kicked out, but the pile of rocks that was left here making for a decent spot.

"Clear." Oksana called out, getting through the ruin, the stone tower still in place but with stairs that were wrecked going up to it. It was so much a ruin that it was down to hip-height walls, glyphs all but lost to time from a half century of wear. The second storey was gone entirely- it felt like just the base rooms were left, and of that, even less was structurally sound. It was just a convenient post, and cover this close to the village. They were overlooking after all, and using this as a checkpoint before heading to the trainyard. To review their fine shit work.

Moving forwards and a bit beyond it between a pile of rocks in a natural hide, Oksana set herself down, the bush immediately seeming to cling to moss, absorbing it almost in a weird way. Felix stayed at the stone wall inside the ruin, getting in position with his viewfinder, sticking close to Rowan and Silas, while the recon team of Polavians kept an overwatch.

"Eyes on village. Police sirens for sure." Oksana adjusted, taking her rangefinder out, pushing it to the pisshead of the group, Borys adjacent.

"You don't need to spot. It's a vessel, no idea how it performs on drunk people, but hopefully you won't puke, and you might see a little bit forwards when in combat. Lose it, I'll fucking actually foresee you getting shot. By me. I've not had a problem that hasn't been fixed by 762 by 54 millimetre yet no matter how many beers someone slugs." Oksana quipped, SVU back in hands as she aimed down the rifle barrel, flicking her NVGs up, the natural lighting doing enough for her with the feint of green against her forehead. She was generous to give something quite close to her early on, definitely showing her appreciation for Borys, but also ripping into him while at it.

"Hang on. Activity. Alright, let's watch, Borys." Oksana remarked, going quiet and letting the team listen in.

Because from their natural overlook, down below in the village, the team could hear the sound of a frustrated man. It wasn't police. The flashing lights were going, yet no actual siren noise. And then more men. And a whole gaggle seemed to come out of one of the houses.

"Where is she?" The rough looking man was dressed in Polavian camouflage had gotten through. The house raid had worked nicely. Because in the next house over, they had found their target.

Dragging out the smaller witch- M4 witch- it appeared she was still here, and much worse for wear.

Had her exfil been botched? Glyphs did go wrong, but not that bad, surely?

They brought her to the foot of the World's End, enough well armed, leather-jacket and military gear hand-me-down militia already in place. More were coming in. Way more. Fuck me, this went from a one man raid to at least a dozen, like that, the team lead thought to himself.

"That isn't Polavian Army, nor Police. Unless they're suddenly all equipped with more AKMs and bad uniforms to supply a Druid Mafia raid. Any militia, Roxie?" Felix looked through his tactical viewfinder, wondering what the actual fresh fuck was going on now.

Roxie checked her comms, adjusting the mic's setting to mouth, knowing it was best she called it out to Rowan from earlier. She could recognise them by their dirtied insignia. Pricks.

"Rowan....THAT, is Security Apparatus. Leather coats, black, olive tactical gear, yellow and red insignia. Every story you read is true. Secret police that ruled this land creating fear on behalf of the regime...formerly, at least. Why the fuck they are back in numbers I don't know. Real experts at wards, too. Everyone, be real careful." Oksana uttered, in shock she'd seen this many of them out.

What the fuck was this, a convention for them? How the fuck did this many unemployed, torturing, scumfucks end up this wealthy, this kitted out, and most of all, holding a DSR Special Forces soldier captive? They kept their insignia because they were proud of their work, clearly. Not afraid to come out of the woodwork. For some reason that nobody in the team quite understood.

And finding out why, well, that scared Oksana more. Were they going to already raid Grandma's house after? That felt a fucking nightmare. So much for leaving. But the situation still was evolving, as she stayed silent for now.

"Eyes on vehicle. Nice one too. Oksana, you recognise them?" Eyes on, she watched the BMW roll in, a new model. Wanting to quip back she didn't know every fancy car in Polavia, now that was just racist. Yet she was still taking this all on. Shit, the PSA had laundered enough money to fund a small army here....and with the man that got out of it, Oksana took the man that stepped out of the car in, mouth dropping further than it already had when she realised who it was. More had started coming in from the car behind, out of a shittier looking Lada.

She had hoped Felix was just chatting bare shit as usual, but here, she realised fate was crueller.

"Fancy car. I mean, could be any....wait. That's....ahhh, fucking hell. He survived his alcohol problem then. That, that is....Lieutenant Colonel Yezhov Prigostin. Bastard, we should....." Oksana adjusted the PSO scope, and immediately could see his head exploding in every, single, vivid way, in a manner that probably would have overriden to Borys next to him.

"Roxie. Hold." Felix's order came through knowing he had to stop her going on impulse, as the bald looking, fat bastard of a Security Apparatus looked down, with a glaring grin at the witch, cuffed at arms and hogtied at legs.

"Actually, explain who that is?" Felix asked, watching as the Lt Col adjusted his leather jacket. This was cartoonishly the most Polavian bad guy he'd even seen, walking over to the captive.

"Prigo was Head of Chariton Unit in the PSA. The worst of all of them......the people the Party sent after the people they really didn't like. Counterintelligence. Went dark after the Revolution. Thought he got killed by his own people. Let me have him, Felix. If I do anything right in this life, please let me kill the Fat Seal. For everyone he hurt. And the asshole he is." Roxie's teeth chattered, Borys probably realising she was even more angry than the money he owed, but now with a bullpup sniper rifle in hand, really trying not give up position.

"Negative. There's far too many of them. Build picture first. Then we'll execute. Not sure you're aware, but we don't have the mags to kill everyone and turn this place into World War 5. We're meant to be leaving. Not fighting over local politics." Felix commented, looking through his own, the person described truly an ugly fuck. Even by Polavian standards. "Also, do you forget that witch tried to kill us?" So very, very low bar then....

"I'll fucking show you too many.....argh." Oksana struggled, not wanting to entirely go into reasons as to why she wanted to slot him now, but Felix was right. There were at least 20 to 30 men in that village, and they were close enough to take the team out if they decided they wanted a fight. Staying silent, and observing was going to keep the team alive. And finding out what the fuck was going on, that made not the Police, instead a former Security Apparatus Colonel turn up, that was worth intel alone. The team stayed quiet, and listened into the distant murmurs they could. Not that Prigo was quiet.

"So you're the little witch they sent in on our territory. On our land? Where is she?" The Lieutenant Colonel leaned in, his voice an accented English, understandable to everyone, including M4 Witch. She had to have a name.

"I don't....no idea who you mean." She replied, as the Colonel tsk'd and nodded to one of his men.

"Ah, Lily. You will remember. We do not need craft to make you remember. We have our ways." He replied in perfect tone, the man dragging her here enacting that.

A butt of an AK hit her face, Oksana so tempted to shoot, but aware killing him would do nothing. There were already a couple of bodies of drunks nearby. The witch stayed silent, blood pouring from her nose. The men sent ahead of the Colonel had done some nasty work.

"Shit. Torture it is. PSA special. Are they looking for us too....has to be? Fucking Felix." Roxie asked, enough delay in the echoing voice of the men below in the valley, as the Colonel sighed, another senior looking man coming along, from across the bar and the remains of the fight. Past a police car where bullet holes were, and two Polavian Police had been killed in cold blood.

"Ay. Fuck you. Unless your people really like horses, fuck knows why I have anything to do with this. Is this a you problem? I smell projection." Felix replied, addressing it straight on.

"Asshole." Oksana sighed in reply, watching on, looking to Borys. She didn't make herself vulnerable like this, but in that moment, a lot of fire was burning.

Unlike Hex, the SA weren't very good at keeping quiet. They were making a point in the village. And everyone in the village knew that unlike the Mafia, if they came knocking, they would answer- the police had been shot here after all. The Witch was hurting, bleeding plenty, as the Colonel approached another man in the muddy track, almost disgusted he had to come personally to see this, the other man more the doer from his rougher looking appearance. An ushanka, and dirtied leather coat and gloves with a thick beard. Younger, by far. An officer maybe, but not as high ranking as the former Lieutenant Colonel. A Captain, maybe?

"Olygarkov. Torture her for everything she knows. I have affairs to sort in the capital, why I had to detour here is a mistake you will not make again, or else Yelenka and your little boy will have their tongues switched. Understood?" Prigostin's voice was like barbed wire had contacted a cat.

"Again, why her?" Olygarkov replied trying as hard as possible to brush that threat off (after an earlier apology), as he seemed still not to understand quite what all of this pomp and circumstance was about.

"Well, Oly-fuck-tard-ov, Rowan Morgana must be found, because if the DSR sent a team for her, and she happens to be on the run, she must fucking know about Manticore. She's a loose, loose end we do not need right now. And she's magically fucking appeared here, without a glyph. Find her. And bring her, to me. Preferably in one piece, I'll take many and we'll put her back together until she croaks. Search every house. One of the yokel fucks will know where she is after the mess her team made. Kill them once they tell you. Or you will join her as a loose end." Prigo didn't fuck around.

As if being an awful human being was enough, he also was just an asshole of a boss, and disparaging the less abled. Not exactly one for PC language, but then again, Polavia wasn't exactly the cosmopolitan hive that the DSR or even Liboli could be. Olygarkov nodded, making a symbol that implied crocodile clips to another of the men, less willing to file a HR complaint considering in the Security Apparatus, they were probably more likely to do worse to him than he was about unto others. He left on that note.

Oksana's jaw opened up hearing all of this realising shit was fully in the fan. So much for it being Felix being the fuck up here. At least it wasn't her, as the voice of Felix filled in her thoughts.

"Oh, fuck right off....really?" The words left Felix's mouth in trailing shock, as he glared over at Rowan, by his side. Realising he felt a little relieved it wasn't actually him. But, to be hunted by someone like that, well, that was a little more serious given the wattage that the witch down there was getting soon getting applied with. Rowan had opened up earlier about the botched raid. Looks like this went another octave higher.

Olygarkov and some balaclava wearing SA men dragged the witch through the muddy track, throwing her down in front of a puddle, opening the back of an old Lada and connecting a car battery. And all the team could do is watch, and argue.

"Rowan, why are there men torturing an entire village to find you? Are they.....ohhhh fuck no. No, Felix, they'll get an answer with that. On all of us. We need to shoot or we're gonna get the same treatment." Roxie replied, actually shook. The scream could be heard, as the witch was connected to many, many volts, and the Druid Witch winced. Before anyone did action something, Felix intervened. In a way that felt awful, probably like pulling hairs right now, but was probably a wiser decision considering what he was watching.

"Negative. I've spotted another Ural's worth of SA down the road. Unless you want to die, situation is the same. We need to get them to dissipate first once they go house by house, and start dropping them one by one. Don't act on emotion or else..." Felix hushed back to Oksana over the comms, as the Polavian turned beetroot.

"Oh fuck you, my fucking grandmother lives nearby, they keep going and they'll......wait, everyone, hold!"

And in that exact moment that Roxie called it, gunfire rang out from the other side of the valley.

Heavy gunfire, and the bullets sounded less Polavian, but more DSR in calibre. The team had a theatre seat to watch Olygarkov dive into cover, Lily get left behind and squirming away from the voltage, and all manner of gunfire respond into the woods on the other side of the village.

"They came back for her! Lucky operator.....they're a lot dumber than I thought." Felix stated, realising what was going down. Oksana didn't agree, even if she understood too.

"Felix, fuck's sake, you got a spine or are we going to sit here and spectate? For a lion, you seem to lack any fucking courage or balls, I don't care, we'll go through them too if we have to stop this!" Roxie was overstating, a little overconfident, but then again, with a sniper and the ability to see ahead, she was willing to roll that dice on her grandmother's village. Anyone would understand. For her, it was personal.

"Do we look like we're equipped to fight a platoon and a half of Security Apparatus, and now, also cross-fight DSR special forces that now want us all dead, so we can join the locals? You fucking in a K-Hole? Observe and wait. We might be able to make this work." Felix replied, as he kept an eye on Rowan, his opinion changing from seeing the wholesome witch to some sort of criminal that was on his level. If she was wanted by him, he didn't want to ask quite what that meant.

Oksana scowled, as she leaned in, watching as the DSR Special Forces team came back. And were trying to fight their way, going through a group. To the untrained eye, they weren't just special forces, they were even more ridiculous than that. The Ural exploded, as a massive fireball was cast, and more gunfire opened up.

"Well, I guess they are equipped to take on an platoon, and a half. Point taken. But we can capitalise when they're done. And again, fuck you, I'm not in a K-Hole...." Oksana took the Ural exploding to note, realising that Felix, as annoying as he was, had a point. On one thing. For now.

"Well, that sorts that out. Or we let them distract and they point them a different way for other resources on what now at least another member of our team knows. If they get her back, they might go for the team. Not us. Ideal. Standby, team, pick up eyes on...." Felix started, comms overrunning.

"Team. Hold still. Contacts. Close." Interrupted by Roxie, holding still in her ghillie, and that made the team's ears prick. A seer saying wait, was like a railroad crossing blinking red. Her voice broke, but was clear enough to make them stop arguing.

As the sound of gunfire erupted, so did the sound of rushing footsteps on their left. A patrol had clearly started moving to another strongpoint. While the Security Apparatus weren't the Polavian Army, many of their rank were trained soldiers first, evil secret police later. And the former was not helpful to the team right now, as Felix could make out the rustle of trees as lights came up.

"Everyone, don't fucking move. Contacts, immediate east. About a dozen of them. New plan, fight our way out and run." Felix whispered, getting back in cover with Rowan, behind the wall.

The team were a bit split. Felix's contingent were in the monastery ruins itself, in the ruins and around the growing conifers, while Borys and Oksana were a little across, hidden in the brush.

Oksana looked to Borys.
"I've got the two approaching the walls in front of Felix and Rowan. Can you get the group right? Without gathering collateral our team? Spoiler alert. You can." She asked, shifting her position, eyes down scope, aware that she had FMJ for this situation, and she had to clarify if they should open the taps. Even against her better judgement, Felix was probably going to be pissed if they didn't take it all in.

"Felix, play? We changing our ROE?"

Felix meanwhile with Keodis, Rowan and Silas, had a chance to line it up.
"Cleared to engage, take the team out and then we run. Keodis, no frags, pick up the main group. Rowan, stick to casting, rather than the shotty. I'll take the first group, no lion from me. Standby. On three." Felix switched up to the 870, loading in a mana-filled pellet, peeking.

"One.....

"Two...

"Three."

And with it, all hell broke loose.
“To good teammates. I am honestly really happy for you Dorian. You must be excited about what happens next in your life. Have you started making any plans yet?”





"Well, I got an offer to get into punditary. Hence why I said, maybe I'll rip into you on commentary. Then, maybe a vinyard. Make my own wine. I was on the sponsor roll for an organic brand for years.....so maybe they'd help me." Dorian smiled, as they pulled in, and made their way inside.

It was nice to connect with Paul, and it had felt strange from his side of the garage. Constantly up and down, uncertain. But while Dorian was not pulling as much as perhaps he once could, and was just as wildly inconsistent, he knew this all meant a lot more to Paul than it did to him. He just wanted to do right by the team, whatever he recognised of it, and by for a moment, and old pilot's friend.




”So first ‘Something is up.’ and now ‘It isn’t anything serious.’? Been pretty secretive about a whole lot of ‘nothing’.” Bea’s exhausted tone morphed into scorn and distrust. ”I’m sure Layla thought it wasn’t anything serious either, and look where she is.” Bea turned abruptly, walking through a gap between two trailers, trying to end the conversation by putting something between the two pilots. ”You’re slow in sector two. Why don’t you go talk to Kais about it?”


Ava's jaw opened, horrified.
"Oh, fuck you! Come on, I'm trying to help!" Ava replied, Bea covering enough distance, and there not being enough reason for Ava to chase, or make a scene.

Something was up. Ava knew it immediately. How the fuck did she know that? Or at least, her mind paranoid, ran to that conclusion.

Ava had a horrid feeling it wasn't because Bea had spotted her with Kais plenty. The way she mentioned Layla, it immediately made her wonder if Bea was in some other loop. Did she know about what she'd been asking Kais about, and beyond? Or was something else afoot?

Ava didn't want to think on it hard. But was regretting even asking, and knew that in the pit box, it was going to be awkward. This wasn't just a small wobble, from Bea being tired and humid, this felt a bit worse.




Race Day
Sunday 4th September, 2094
Marina Bay, Singapore
2200 SGT

High Beams




Soundtrack: Metrik - Thunderblade

"We're under the lights of Singapore tonight, and the Marina Bay AGP circuit seems to never give a dull moment. Redesigned in 2079, and modified more with MAG banking in 2090, we're looking at a circuit that offers " Rory enthusiastically began, as the broadcast turned to the circuit, with a panning drone shot over the water of the massive Singapore Flyer ferris wheel, sitting in front of a highway, and all ends of enormous skyscrapers that needled their way into the heavens, far above the circuit's damp tarmac.

"Yes, and the pilots will know that in the heat, they'll be feeling it the entire race. The humid air is constant, and while fans and extraction systems help, they'll be physically suffering today on our screens. Pilots lose up to two kilos a race here, and augments here are really pushed to their pace. Rory, what do you think are the surprises we'll see tonight?" Rosie replied, footage going through stands, tarmac from a drone-shot, and back to the grid, where pilots were making their last minute checks, taking on water and electrolytes, checking their cooling gear over, and clambering.

"Well, everyone is shocked about Thorsdottir going as high as she did, but she loves a street circuit, like she proved in Tokyo. She may not always be the most consistent, but don't rule her out. And well, the rookies who were so confident in yesterday's interview, they'll need to push hard to get past an imperious Amy Stirling. In Singapore, anything can happen." Rory replied, as Rosie chirped back in, the usual excited co-lead getting better as the year came on, maturing a little more.

"Thanks, Rory. Looks like the crews are getting cleared up, and here we are, ready for the Singapore AGP...."

As the canopies shut, cooling was removed, and the pilots were on their own. Desert rounds of the AGP championship at least went later in the year, but Singapore, well, that was always hot. The massive urban heat island, despite geoengineering and trying to tame rainfall in the region and reduce temps, still cooked away.

And as the teams got ready, running through initial checks, the lights flickered up in red.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.


And with the race start, all ships were away clean, Amy keeping barely ahead of Nora who tried an immediate lunge, and got shut, slowing up Paul and Bea. That alone created a cascade where Max managed to actually overtake Ava and Dorian within the first lap, somehow putting his absolute pile of a ship ahead of two that absolutely should have been on it. Ava was clearly a bit less elbows out, and Dorian, well, he just hadn't been gelling as much as he would have liked. He was caught napping, as Max seemed to now be hurtling towards Cassie Neves, which was catching the commentators off guard.

Bea and Paul fought, but weren't losing time on Nora and Amy, the main pack of four within seconds, and seemingly inseperable out of the gate. It would be a question of who cracked first. The humidity, heat and sapping transcended humans, the ships themselves felt like they were sucking in thicker air too.

The laps continued. The onboards were clean as anything, the humid night a blur of colour, 90 degree corners surprisingly creating enough good places to catch. That was something that Nora was doing again. Bit by bit, a ship that shouldn't have had the rights to be here, was making sure that Amy couldn't run. She was trying to dump all her ELS, trying to break that link, but Nora seemed hellbent on tethering her. She knew that any chance Amy had at not scoring points, even with her own, was a chance to break forward and close that gap in points, and widen her own to Harrison.

So in Turn 7, Nora made her move.

"And....oh, that was so nearly contact, but Stirling has had to take the escape lane! Disaster, and she's lost so many places, but she is behind Makara now, and what will the stewards say about that?"

"Certainly a racing incident, but Kelly is on a rampage! Look at how twitchy that ship is still, through every corner she looks like she's milimeters from putting it in the wall, that must be absolutely a brick to pilot but if anyone can, this season we're learning that Nora Kelly can certainly tame anything she has!" Rory was picking his voice up in pitch, as with the response, Amy had closed the gap up towards Bea, and was not leaving her rear vision.

The race seemed stable. Max was constantly harassing the back of Cassie's ship, Paul had actually managed to close up to Nora, and Amy, well, she was already breathing down Harrison, the Aussie sweeping it in close to Bea who wasn't having a great race. Plenty of popcorn to go around.

Towards the back, Jen and Hamid had made inroads, but the fighting was getting rather lengthy. Jen clearly had the pace to get past more ships like Cassie's, but Hamid wanted to constantly fight and leech her ELS, trying to follow through on Ava, and get behind Dorian, which he had managed to do, just.

Constantly at each other, Jen let Hamid cover, and then leeched, pulsing forwards, right through the twist right at the final sector, before beaming it on the final, and start-straight complex, knowing that while the Al-Saqr ship had pace, her exit was better and with enough ELS thrown down, she'd make it clear- concede, or impact.

Hamid chose not to let her through- and see if she'd back off as he had the corner.

Contact was inevitable. And it came, with Jen slamming into the side of Hamid's ship, Hamid arguably ahead at the corner still and Jen trying desperately to force him wide. It was a rookie error from a not-so-rookie pilot, as the two bounced across the MAG-tracked surface and off the repulsor field, coming to a messy, broken stop with both ships looking rather wounded.

"Oh wait, red flag, that looks like...ooooh, that is a nasty hit there between Jenny Lowry and Hamid Atlassi! Both are kicking themselves for no doubt, what was an avoidable hit!"

"Yes, looks like Lowry misjudged that, look at the way she tries to close up, that can't work!"

"No, and well, the stewards will want to look at that one. For now, looks like all ships are at a halt, and we're seeing clean-up activity underway. With such limited room, it was inevitable an overtake would go wrong, but do we think Lowry is still holding up to her initial uptick in form, or is this a sign the pilot is struggling with the second seat at Silver Apex?"

"Well, a poor qualifying put her in a bad place. And you can't win races from 12th, so knowing her, Jenny will be kicking herself."

The ships were neutralised, and after the two pilots had clambered out, the small matter of the circuit's incredibly messy state and tight configuration meant the mess was requiring a full clean-up. Carbon was just everywhere, and Jen had gone silent when she was in the paddock, hurling her helmet to an engineer, gloved hands on face, a small yell audible from the Silver Apex garage of frustration that the others might have heard.

Hamid seemed marginally less upset, already adding to what was a shit day for Al-Saqr, on a track that wasn't giving them much luck.




At the restart, all ships were back online. And the small matter of the fight was left at the front, with Bea still in a podium position now Amy was behind Harrison and her.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.


Harrison started strong, immediately picking up pace on Bea, and in Turn 1, took a punt that Bea wouldn't want the corner as much as he did. He had a golden opportunity to close up to Paul, because out of the corners, he wouldn't have the same ELS pull as him. Harrison spent the entire lap jostling with Bea, but eventually, by lap's end, was ahead.

And immediately, not wasting time out of the gate either, Amy made a fierce move on Bea a few minutes later at Turn 1, the very inevitable Amy Stirling not wanting to lose much more time in taking back P1.

Amy would have had that opportunity of course, had she have been higher up the grid- but Bea had stalled her plenty that she'd be denied a podium finish in the inevitable end. Bea might have even had the chance to tangle with her, but, inevitably, it was not to be.

Because up front, the real fight was taking place. In the humid, horrible heat, Nora could feel her body twitch in reaction through every corner, every fight trying to defend from Paul. She was putting it wide, and she wasn't letting go of anything. She was as ever, piloting a ship that seemed completely wild, more so than Carrera's at this point, but she was making it nigh impossible for Paul to fight without causing an enormous crash.

It was heart pounding stuff, because the two rookies at the start of the season who been so highly touted, in a dogfight of their own. So improbably were they here, Nora capitalising on straights and corners, but loose as anything, the ship absolutely not made for Singapore. The fans of both teams were on the edges of their seat, the fight that maybe wasn't at Spa levels, but on a street circuit, felt even more razor-edge than ever. Any mistake would be punished instantly, and be absolutely unrecoverable.

All the way to the end, Paul would prod, poke and shove.

But Nora made one mistake. It was just enough. And in a moment, Paul had a chance on that final lap to give everything, and make a move.

And make that move he did.

Nails fully bitten off, the commentators went wild.

"Paul Mulder makes that move stick, wow, they are side by side, but Mulder has the better of Kelly, and what an emphatic response, what a point proven by the Belgian, he takes it into Turn 18 and keeps the lead, and wins, the Singapore AGP! Wow, and with Kelly right behind him, and Makara winning out over Stirling, what a result!" Rory was at the top of his lungs, the race not a cut and shut with big gaps like Germany, but actually, a close race throghout. Street circuits with ELS that had been mastered, like Singapore made for good races in AG ships, where they could demonstrate their speed and capability to their fullest.

"Yes, an impressive result! Stirling must be kicking herself over that fight with Kelly, and the mistake she made, but what a great recovery to push past Ward and take P4, incredible scenes."

"And would you look at that, Max Wedgewood in P6 overtakes Astrid Thorsdottir in the dying laps, he has driven the absolute bolts off that ship, what a result from the Colorado native! Neves, Hornfleur and Villarosa follow, and well, that rounds out our top ten." Rory commentated, as the footage cut to Valkyrie absolutely going haywire over that win, and in the pit wall, engineers barely containing their excitement.

Nora's audio was significantly more dejected, but even so, she had to admit. That was quite something from Paul, and if the rumours were that he was under the weather after Hawaii were true, what a way he had proven the doubters wrong.



Cooldown Room


Harrison Makara


The moves Paul had made on Nora was absolutely stunning, and to stick it out right at the end was no doubt a weight lifted off his shoulders.

Harrison scowled. That was a win for Nora, and even if she was his biggest championship rival, it was gutting to see it taken right in the death.

"Damn. That is rough. Still. Two rookies didn't smack into each other, so we're all winners....would be an easy P1 if you had!" Harrison joked with a teethy smile, absolutely pulling both of their legs, as Nora shrugged, shaking hands with Paul, the shorter Aussie drenched to her core from the effort, struggling to walk across to the beanbag versus the more active Harrison. The overtake played back, as did the earlier scuffle that Nora had with Amy, and then, the relentless pace at which Beatrix had been picked off, including the fine move by Harrison, putting himself exactly where needed to in order to make her sweat. While Bea was good, Harrison today had oozed confidence, and made the ship work with a setup that he was now getting his head around.

The steward gave the thumbs up, and with it, the three walked out.

Walking out onto the top step, Paul must have felt strange getting three wins this season. The highest highs, the lowest lows. No doubt Bea was feeling that after such a promising weekend. But then again, form, morale, and the roll of the dice were funny things. Because on award of a beautiful platinum and holographic trophy, and a massive bottle of champagne, trying to deal with those highs and lows didn't matter in that instant. The pressure was mounting on Al-Saqr, and in a moment where Valkyrie needed to keep the pressure on, they had delivered.




The format semeed to shift a little bit for the interviews, feeling less like an in the moment review, given tensions, but set a week or so after, looking back in retrospect. Giving more time for a response, more nuance, an option to at least hone in on things.

"Bea, it seems like at the start of the season, your hopes were low at the bottom of the midfield pack, but now you seem closer to the podium each week than ever before. What do you think you need to work on to get that final third, especially at the very top level? Do you think you could explain to our viewers what the difference is like?"

"Paul, you seemed to be having struggles with your form, with some inconsistent performances, yet still delivering three wins by Singapore. Tell us, how did that win feel, after? And if you're at liberty, tell us, what do the pressures feel like?"

"Kais, not an ideal weekend, but do you have hope that at the other circuits you'll be able to show off what your speed-focussed craft can do?"
Thursday 1st September, 2094
Marina Bay, Singapore
2030 SGT


@LadyAmber

Dorian shook his head, hearing his comments about emotions, knowing no answer would be easy.

He put his hand out, putting fingers into heart.
"Whether it's synthetic or not, they haven't made a cure for how you feel. Nanites won't fix it. Working out doesn't either. What's in here, you need to make that happen. So don't worry about those things fixing you. Remember why you do this." Dorian replied, breaking a smile, knowing he had doubts. He was barely 20, and Dorian had to remind himself he was his age when Paul's father died. That was harrowing, and something he didn't want to outpour now, but he could at least cheer up his son. That much he owed the man.

"It's fine. Every team-mate wants to rip each other out. Be lucky I don't care and want to retire, so I'll take my victory lap and just try and do the best a 40 year old can with a ship made for fucking teenagers. Like you're barely old enough to....ah, forget it. You got this." Dorian added, slotting the champagne, shaking his head, thinking about his earlier comment.

"Please don't tell me this is because you're worried about not keeping a girl? Paul, putain, don't you fucking think......and ahh, I am taken, so don't worry. I'm not into Belgians anyway, last guy had a thing for waf....ahh, forget it. Anyway, when I came out as bi, do you know how much fan mail they sent in my prime? I had so many relationships, so much empty sex.....probably when I felt at my loneliest." Dorian paused, sipping more bubbly.

"Then I found Marcel. Someone who loves me for who I am. And you'll find someone too, because you're a Formula AG pilot, and that is the sexiest thing in the world. But being decent counts for a lot too. All that pressure, but in it, a diamond can be found when you're a version of you that doesn't worry too much." Dorian spoke with true French class, well, the kind that came with being bisexual, multilingual and two decades in the game of keeping his head straight. And trying to get a laugh out of Paul.

With the AV coming to a stop, Dorian put the glass back, stepping out into the 50th storey entrance to their hotel.
"Maybe not tonight though? If you get eyes for any other pilot though, especially Beatrix Ward, I am going to rip the shit out of you if I get into commentary." Dorian tried to at least get him cheered up, stepping out into the faux marble, and off to bed.




Practice
Friday 2nd September, 2094
Singapore Marina Bay, Singapore
1700 SGT


Cassie Neves


She spat out her red electrolyte, watching Beatrix nearly slam into her through the corner on the footage playback.

"That fucking close? Bea, what the...."

The sight of the rainbow, with black/white colouring at the mouth of the garage stopped her fully completing her swear word, looking meek and rather apologetic.

Cassie sighed, nodding to that apology.

"Suppose you came to apologise at least. Better than most. And probably not worth penalty points, let's not be children in karts. Unless you try it again. Anyway, back to it, yeah? Go destroy your teammate and don't drown? You seem like one of the nice ones." Cassie chuckled, her sarky quip well intentioned, as with it, she turned back to the team, helmet back in hand, and Zygon seemed to shoo her away after that.




Qualifying
Saturday 3rd September, 2094
Singapore Marina Bay, Singapore
2200 SGT

More Than Machine






Soundtrack: Metrik - Ex Machina

Breathing in, Amy took half a moment.

A spotlight lit, LED-light filled skyscraper, hologram pulsing filled cityscape around a city. That in night, had unbearable humidity that at least didn't combine with sunshine. It felt at least cooler, yet sweaty. Even after a rainstorm, Singapore felt hostile.

The track was strewn in puddles, the regular afternoon to evening rainstorm that Singapore received having bucketed it onto the circuit, and waited out before qualy started. It was serious rain, the kind that seemed to almost hail this time around- leaving the circuit slick in the glistening lights. Not that AG cared, as it instantly vaporised the tarmac and MAG-tracking.

"Got this. Come on. Let's have it." And from slow pace, the ship jolted. Through the knife-edge like Turn 1 and 2, past the massive wall of fans that made up the bridge area at 4 and 5, with the enormous camber that allowed her to basically keep the ship going, albeit spilling a tiny bit of speed on the overrun, throttle pinned through ELS. The ship screamed. The headache faded. She felt herself meld, bond, closer. The reaction felt superhuman. The new upgrade did too. Fuck me, this was on rails, she thought to herself!

7, 8, 9 blasted, all with a slight camber making the 90 degree turns more palpable, and not quite like Monaco on the highly lit-up streets of Singapore. This place was an absolute maze, the tall skyscrapers of 70 years ago even taller, and dense, like a forest of glass, metal and composite that blended with the ground level heritage of Singapore's multi-faceted past. But no time to think on that. 10 was now an inverted chicane, in that a brake was required to avoid poor camber, a parody of the old Singapore Sling and made sure speeds didn't get too insane in 11 and 12, with a massive camber at the hairpin making it a passing place for anyone suicidal enough. Because the straight was silly again, the ship's lovely setup not too aggressive, but tuned finely to Amy's hyperreactive feel. In 14, that 90 degree was about to get boring, but it was the end of it. Because by 16, the track cambered upside down and corked straight to 18, at a massive wall of MAG tracking, making for an excellent finale.

And well, what a time it was. Jen hadn't delivered, having issues with the new upgrade, by Amy, she was back. The promise finally delivered. And she was taking top spot tomorrow. Time to widen a gap she'd kept too close to Nora lately.

"P1, Amy! What a lap that was!" The call came through, as Amy smiled behind her visor, that everlasting confidence back on her. It was always in her. Believe and you receive. The ship felt like it was crawling in her at this point, it was so much beyond a bond now, it seemed to exist in a future she hadn't gotten into yet. Finding the millionths in air oscillations nobody could even spot. And punching through regardless.

Cooldown on, she pulled in, and canopy open, put her fist up, clambering out, looking at the stunned Nora, who was certain she'd had in a bag with what was her own, insanely capable lap. Paul and Bea would feel a bit hard done by, but then again, nothing they could do when two pilots decided they were making Singapore a fight.

Amy didn't really talk. The noise was too much, her head hurt, but she was back where she wanted to be. Keira looked up at her, as Amy smiled, as best as she could through the cutting decibels.






Rookies in Frame


The pressers cornered Bea right as she was finishing up, Nora and Paul in the queue behind as all three were now in the booth, the usual ushering of them away stopped by a cameraman.

"Nora, Beatrix, Paul, you three have been rookies all this season and now that you're all here, how do you feel about taking the rest of the places by storm? What a dominant qualifying, do you think you can take on Amy, without taking each other out?"

Nora looked to the others with a grin, the Aussie no less relenting in what could be a charge to the title in her first season. If she could get past Amy, that was.

"Well, they'll have to keep up first. Sure I can get her. Tomorrow, and for the title." Nora smiled to the others, the crowd cheering, the local Bogans getting their local supersonic to here and in force, #NitroNora Army here for the series's last major visit to this corner of the globe (given Great Barrier Reef was not attended in force). Nora had clearly gone from strength to strength, the synthetic arm and leg having pilot seemingly repeating Auckland once again, despite Southern Cross recently being embroiled in scandals around Australian mining firms, still coming out of it with a pilot that seemed virtually like she couldn't quit.




@Starlance

Ava Villarosa


With qualifying completed, press over, the team at Carrera were headed back to the hotel, locking up for the rest of the night. The team generally were out and about, shutting all systems off, and locking up.

"Bea!" Ava yelled out, as she chased over, running in front, past the trailers at the back of Carrera Condor's paddock.

"You okay? Like, we're on top of it all, P4 in that standing....and you seem all out of it?" She asked genuinely, before realising the few hours she'd spent thinking about this, wanting to check and get an answer, was getting a scowl from Bea. The others walked on by, still some team members left, but soon, they'd be out of sight.

"Look, if it's about Amy....and the op and everything, look, don't be worried about it. I'm sure it isn't anything serious. She's doing this to wind you up. Even if she is a freak of nature sometimes. Like in qualy." She seemed to tried empathy, but the look she was getting, did not appear to be it.
Episode Thirteen: Under Spotlights


Thursday 1st September, 2094
Merlion Ultra, Marina Bay, Singapore
1700 SGT

ZONE


With the session completing, Astrid looked to her pitful score, and Kais's impressive one, with Bea and Paul slapping inbetween- the former a tiny bit higher than the latter. Not bad though- most at home would struggle to clear zone 8, without assists.

"Not bad at all. My reaction times aren't as fast, but hey, I'll take it." Astrid smiled, neural link down, session completed. They'd all had a bit of fun in the virtual, but none of it compared to the real, tangible thing out there, as the scene cut.




@Starlance

Thu 02/09 20:15 - MadBea - [Batt: 66%]


Ava > You ok? Talk later when we get a chance. Maybe tomorrow. Something is up.




Thursday 1st September, 2094
Marina Bay, Singapore
2030 SGT

ZONE


Dorian Hornfleur


After the dinner, Paul and Dorian shared the same AV, with the feeling between the two mutually awkward. Difficult as ever, as they sat apart from each other in the faux-leather seats, the automated craft lifting away into the increasingly windy and rainy night.

"Something is fucking wrong with her. I've never seen her actually scared." He was outspoken, straight to the point, shaking his head, head in hands, before leaning back. He sighed, plenty, looking back at the skyscraper, then back across to Paul, who no doubt, was mystified.

"If it's Hawaii that has you down, look....these things happen. Ship just doesn't feel right. You think you're useless. And it's shit." Dorian took pause, knowing in that situation, Paul had been quiet. Far more than he normally was.

"When I was young, I suppose I was hungry. Impatient. But if you are seeing someone, don't bottle up. It's better to talk. And I'm here too, Paul. I have nothing to lose but one last hurrah." Dorian smiled, shrugging.

"But if it's that...then sorry, I can't help you there. Because I'm thinking the fucking same." Dorian stated the very obvious, knowing the barely out of his teens Belgian would want to react back.

"She's always been pushing. Always so....greedy. Cassie was like that too. It scared me. I suppose I didn't trust you at first because I thought you might be the same. But even Starcross was wired up for her time. Shame we're not." Dorian leaned in, shaking his head.

"Alexander will push the wetware on you. He's got to extract the best pilot he can. If you don't feel comfortable, don't be afraid to push back. You are the biggest star of the European Union right now. He isn't." Dorian leaned forwards, hands on knees.

"Do whatever you need to do. The pilot isn't bigger than the team, Paul. But the team needs a pilot who can win. So we get it done here, however we can. Or any chance of us catching Zygon, let alone Al-Saqr, and we are done." Dorian finished, knowing that mentally, Paul was in a tricky place.




Practice
Friday 2nd September, 2094
Singapore Marina Bay, Singapore
1500 SGT

Humid Heat




The ships roared throughout the circuit, the late afternoon making it a little different to what they were used to.

The humidity was ridiculous. Even after a massive storm hit last night, the track had dried in the intense sunshine, but it still felt like the air was thick with damp.

The circuit was a stunner. Much like the original F1 formula, but with significant MAG-tracking throughout, with much of Sector 3 being almost at total camber, winding through the circuit. In the sunny light, nothing special. But come nightfall, this place would be lit up with the power of every halogen light there was in the citystate, all eyes on the ships and pilots. They had one chance to make it good in practice. And for a street circuit, they had chances, like Auckland, to make overtakes that were risky and difficult. While not a showstopper, it felt like the Lion City made for a street circuit that while an absolute focus on handling, offered glimpses to fast ships onto long straights.




Ava Villarosa


Ava peeled in, the rainbow-coloured ship cooling down and settling back into the pit box, dragged back in as Ava popped the canopy, sweating buckets. The humidity was ridiculous, and even with cooling built into the suit, it was searing, with the rehydration fluid immediately passed to her the moment she disconnected from the ship's water supply. Taking a hand out, she stepped down the steps, the neural link left behind, the taller Chilean immediately up with Rey.

"We need way more oversteer. We definitely overcompensated in the setup. Bea has the same." Ava commented, the telemetry shared between the two already something the slightly-more experienced pilot could make. Rey on that note followed her, letting two of the other engineers know, immediately getting the ship's aero reprogrammed to adjust.

"Okay, it's done. We have twenty minutes more. Ready in five again. Feeling ok in the humidity?" The engineer asked, able to see the telemetry of not literally just the ship's wax-based core, but also, Ava's own innards.

"Yeah, fine." Ava replied, looking to Bea coming in, wondering if she really was alright. With everything with Kais, he'd gone quiet. And Bea had seemed even off lately. Did she know? Or worse, was she in on something? Ava was worried. And increasingly, unsure of where to trust, as Rey snapped her out of her freeze, pointing out the fixes.

"Ready?"




The various pilots were in the interview booth. This was getting tiring, no doubt, it was pushing them because after a humid, hot run in the sun, practice was over, and Aurora was back there again, run ragged this afternoon with various activities. They were probably no doubt, pissed off, not wanting to be interviewed again. But there they were again.

"With the humidity, how are you feeling?"




A cut inside the Delta Hyper booth.

"Singapore is hot. It's a humid, sticky kind of heat. That sucks!" Harrison commented, shaking his head, laughing with his white toothy grin.

"I mean, it's tricky. But we're made for this. Pilots adapt to the situation in front of them, right?" Max replied, the laugh coming back from Astrid.

"Yeah, but that is getting insane. I know we were in Hawaii. By a volcano. But this? It's out of control." The Faroese-Finn just uttered, the camera cutting into Cassie.

"Competition is heating up. And I mean, we are chasing after Valkyrie. One slip up, and...." The amber-skinned pilot grinned, seamless into Hamid.

"And we'll drop back. But not this time." Hamid replied, arms crossed, grinning, smile back.

"And top spot isn't easy to take away." Amy finally commented, the strings playing in the background ending on that.
Day 1: 21:32:05
Babuskha's House (Oksana's Grandmother)
Somewhere outside the village of Pristupin, Libor Province
Republic of Polavia

Magazines: Loaded




The presence of Silas was a surprise to Oksana. She'd seen him in the local clinic, but a homevisit? Babushka, you had to tell me!- she thought to herself. But, he knew what he was doing. And despite his craft requiring violence, Babushka hadn't seemed to complain. Even if his was more related to trauma, it did wonders for the hip, it sounded like. And that put him in her good books, the one Libolian she could trust.

He's turning back to the group as they are arming up. "Alright, trust then...the lot of you are going to need a medic sooner or later. I never thought I'd be working with a Bunch of former Reactor again. But well why the hell not?"


"Never thought I'd see you treating my grandmother. Without consent. But because it's you. And only you. Thanks." Oksana chirped, her look not of a smile but of a blunt instrument, the fact it wasn't a threat showing in her Polavian way, she appreciated him.

"I might need to talk to you later, got some odd requests, but....nothing urgent. You good? Up to what we're in for? Despite our supposed chief being a difficult bastard?" The Polavian added, keeping that light in touch, knowing it was best not to make too big of a deal of her certain use.

Meanwhile, Felix had pissed off Rowan.

Not surprisingly.

Rowan gave Felix a dirty look. “Oh you want a big batch of spell ink. You know what I use that big cauldron for… you know the one you want me to leave behind! If I have to leave all my gear here, I won’t be able to set up a still to provide Borys with alcohol either. Fuck you Felix!”


The door may as well have slammed, as Felix looked on, Rowan leaving scene fast.
"For fuck's sake, Rowan, thin....ah, dammit." The shapeshifter exclaimed, watching her head out. With a sack for collecting items from the forest at least.

"How did you become an officer again?" Oksana asked, as Felix chuckled, shaking his head. Not a great start.

"Against my better judgement." The reply was laconic, as he sighed, looking across to Borys, trying to calm her down, but that coming slow.

“Easy, easy. He may be dense enough to sink in pools, but he’s from Liboli, it’s not his fault. He wants a big batch now to cover for the possible absence of the cauldron later.” He tried to calm Rowan down a bit.

“Like it or not we’ve been seen together, by now we’re all on the list, if for no other reason than to prevent us from helping him. So we either put the cat in a carrier crate and mail him express back to DSR, or we figure out how to live together until this bullshit blows over. And the former is snitching bitch behavior and thus not an option.” He declared with the finality of someone who has been through a Polavian prison and had their code of conduct hammered into his mind, “I agree we should move out of here. If Harry Whatshisface is willing to raid a pub in broad daylight, he’d turn Maria Denisovna’s house into splinters without a second thought.”


Felix appreciated the assist, though he knew it wouldn't help Rowan's scowl. Nor Oksana's.

"She'll be fine. She survived eighty years of oppression. They'll get their ears talked off. And Rowan is only getting supplies." Oksana almost barked, defensive in a way, as if to deflect her own thoughts. "But wards are a good idea. Don't plant them too obviously. Brings more attention." Oksana looked to Rowan, her Polavian demeanour completely the opposite of perhaps the excited, manic DSR native. They had more work to do. Felix had more planning. And he scribbled more. Crafts, vessels, weapons, abilities, knowns. That much he could draw from what he roughly knew. Oksana had the rest of her ghillie to put together, and big 7.62mm rounds to chamber into magazines.

And a microdose of ketamine, through an inhaler she'd kept, taken quietly on the side. That bar fight had affected her far worse than she wanted to admit. She'd controlled it, but at one point, she was pretty sure she saw Rowan come in with a pitchfork and hit Borys with it while in here. She said nothing. She saw shit like this all the time, Roxie was now frankly used to hallucinating with this many visions in front of her, triggering when she tapped into it. But the involuntary stuff, while it was nowhere near as bad, flared in trauma.

She had taken a lot on, but that fight or flight, whatever it was, maybe the interference, it did something. When time stopped, she still kept seeing, and it hurt like hell. Disassociated her. The ket brought her back, the opposite of what it did to anyone recreationally taking it.

Like any bad dream, you knew it wasn't real when certain details could be spotted that weren't quite right, like Borys bleeding out.

Drugs it was, but a teeny sample, enough to keep her back in check for at least whatever happened then. Back to faraway combat, she'd be happier.

Felix looked to Borys in the meantime, sighing, thinking about what he'd said earlier on that comment. The Polavian was mildly drunk, but, he wasn't holding back his tongue. He had a point. If the team were competent, they'd have done some seriously dark shit. Felix would have made a scene of it. Eaten anyone that didn't comply. Got the result. They were too slow, too sensitive. That was where Felix knew he differed at least. You put your own at risk not going all the way.




Looking across the team, Felix looked to the board, Rowan coming back in with supplies. She'd calmed down, and come back in, dragging and making the cauldron quietly scream into stone.

Rowan sighed as she started the conversation. If they were going to work together they needed to have all the facts. Secrets like these could cause trouble down the road. ......So get used to me being grumpy. I don’t like the dirt, mud, great outdoors, and creepy crawlies.”


"You picked the wrong country, Morgana." Oksana added, thinking about her other phrase. "I could use some healing potions to top up my stash where internals are concerned, and Silas can't fix us. And I agree, leaving is a good idea." Oksana endeared herself a little to Rowan. She was feisty, wild. She had heard the stories, despite her being a resolute, genius of a chemical weapons expert, she knew how to hold herself in a fight. A classic witch, but one that took no shit given the situations she ended up in. She liked that plenty. Oksana respected it, because she said it how it was.

The Polavian turned to the Libolian, ready to go. "Felix, gameplan?" The taller Libolian was in the midst of something else with Rowan, before turning.

"Changing appearance is a nice trick, but, shit hallucinates like an AI bot done wrong. Anti-surveillance would be handy. That one, that is some proper, proper bullshit. Keeps us off CCTV, and we'll need that in urban areas. Then brew something for yourself, Rowan, plenty of non lethals, if we run into people we don't want to kill. And of course, acid for everyone else. You're into chemical warfare, right? I'm sure you have something up your sleeve." Felix replied, knowing that bridge was hard to mend, but Oksana butted in.

"If you don't like here, you might enjoy Novy Jork. It has culture. Sights to see. But is very expensive now. Seriously. Tourism killed it. Borys is almost right there." Oksana added, as she hucked over her ghillie, sleeves on, before drawing the bush from her head, keeping it like a hood, the Druid Scout Sniper less like a typical witch with less of a hat, and more of a hooded, cloak-and-dagger kinda druid if she ever had to be one. The hood had two bits- one that entirely covered her head, and another that gave her a bush. It saved a balaclava, which Roxie wasn't a massive fan of. She had a GPNVG set in a frame on her stubby wool hat, the moving bush that gently blended into everything she stepped on appearing to have glowing green eyes. That was some Druid drip.

She looked across to Borys, the the Polavian taller than her male counterpart, cracking a chuckle.
"You drunk bastard. Can't believe you agreed with me earlier. You really are cased." She broke an actual smile, walking across and casually picking up his AK, rotating it around, before passing it over. The stock being a shovel was enough to break her into a full grin. From her usually stoic demeanour, that was something.

"Seems like you maybe shouldn't gamble though. You need a coffee before your drunk ass falls over. I left hot water and a compress there. Felix might need some too. Or he will pass out. By the by." She mentioned, leaning in, walking past, eyes gently cloudy. "For some reason, I think we might be even soon. Just popped into my head. Or, maybe that's me tripping on shit." She added, cryptic, perhaps almost as if she wanted to get that strange thought out of her head. Or the ketamine was still settling.

Felix on the other hand kept his hoodie on, stubbed bobbled grey wool wizard's hat on, that felt like it almost made his vessels almost activate better. Looking good, feeling good. Rifle on plate carrier, he was arguably the most tactical looking of the bunch, gloves on, and looking across to the team. The only thing he was missing was wrap-around sunglasses, but he preferred to keep lower profile. Nothing screamed "man who turned into lion", bar the patch on his tactical hoodie. Of what looked like a sketched out lion's head.

If some had a sign for what blood group there were, the lion indicated "Shapeshifter", just in case someone picked his body up and then absolutely pissed themselves when a lion appeared. He'd needed that after the second time he turned and nearly got shot. He didn't really need NVGs, given his senses in his other form carried over fairly well, making his sight in the dark about six times better (three in human form) than most, and his hearing, when tuned, absolutely sharp as a nail. Though no high pitch noises, were preferred.

Cue a little montage.

A bit crap, really, because it had no glitz and glamour, it felt more grindhouse, more B-Movie than it did refined. Among hay bales, halogen light, a team slowly came together.




After plenty more rigging, crafting, gearing up, the team were ready for an impromptu brief.

The main reason why was because the big tank of herbal tea was now empty, with mugs in everyone's hands, a cigarette in Felix's hand, his old habit dying hard.

"I don't start briefs with apologies. But sorry you've been dragged into this mess. I'll get you out of it, at least. Got plenty of reasons to. Oksana is our local. She's sober, and she can see into the future. Borys is your secondary translator. For pastoral support, see Silas. He might hit you over the head to help." Felix was a bit dry in his humour, but dry generally. But, he held it together at least, as Oksana looked over at him, from the pallets she sat on.

"And this is going to be boring." Oksana replied, Felix going nowhere today.

"Come on. Fuck's sake."

"Okay. I can hear you like, infinitely though. I can't do briefs. Tell me who to kill, where and when."

"Ah."

"Yeah, foresight is a bitch."

"Could you just like, nod?"

"Sure. Papers, Please. Felix, continue." Oksana replied, knowing she'd have to grit her teeth through this one. At least she was slightly drugged up. She'd be fucking hallucinating all sorts of bullshit if she was this bored. And that was a sniper talking boredom. She could sit in a hole for ten hours, drift her mind to.....not her past, but something nice, but briefs? She hoped she didn't fall asleep.

"Okay. So, I suggest we get papers, Oksana makes a point. She has a contact in Novy Jork, and he knows the undereworld well. That gives us a shot to at least blend in and relocate, put distance between us and the team, maybe, if we're lucky, get false identities to go home. Or find other mercenary work. You shouldn't have to deal with my bullshit, but if you get cut loose, go it alone and that team go after you.....you all know the game from SERE. I don't think they will fuck up that bad again." Felix looked to the group, knowing Rowan was about to chirp in.

"And I get it. Driving would be easier with spells changing us. But we're too many for the car, and one ward-carrying cop, and we are screwed. But we need to check our situation to see if we can salvage it. There's a ridgeline in the forest where it looks like we can get an overview on Pristupin. Get an idea of how much police there is. I didn't come here to kill innocent people. But if we have to, if fired upon, shoot back."

"Or if you find former Security Apparatus, shoot on sight."

"Thanks, Roxie."

"No worries! Glory to the Polavian People's Republic!" Oksana sarcastically chirped with an old slogan, looking to Felix again.

This was fucking infuriating to him. But the team might have been amused.

"Indeed. The alternative exfil, if the place is swarming- is we have to get out of the net, is the train network. Which doesn't stop for man or beast, Partisans, anyone. Our access is located three klicks here. Koley Trainyard, through the forest which keeps us out of thermals and out of sight. A boneyard, but, it's on a corner of the main line, so trains slow down. Enough for us to catch a lift. And get to where we need, out of where we are currently being looked for by at least two, possibly three, different agencies." Felix pointed, the black line going all the way down to the city.

Oksana was blunt in reply. "Full of Albani Mafiya, kurwa. Backed by hired goons from the Security Apparatus that are drunk on power from ten years ago are there. It's why trains are a sham. And Rowan is right. We can't exactly catch an Intercity at Kralovec South." Oksana chirped in, Felix nodding.

"That's why. Enemy of our enemy isn't our friends. And I'm not looking at second class. We find a freight train rolling past, and get on it. Sneak past the people running the place and, or, zero anyone we find that stops us. We're all running craft. That isn't normal for a Reactor detachment. Gives us a lot more of an edge now than we had before when it was one apiece. So that gives us plenty more balance in a fight. Silas heals, Borys can take bullets when he's fucked up, Rowan just hurls alkaline at people, and Keodis seems to just make shit blow up more than usual." Felix added, making a valid point there, Oksana agreeing at least on that one, continuing.

"Oksana, you know the contact?"

"I'll get you there, I know how to find him. Pale Pavel's gone up in the world, apparently. But only once we're through, I'll come home once the papers are done. You'll need some money. You all have cash?"

"DSR Dollars enough?"

"They'll do."

"Perfect. Last thing. Rowan's got us some extract glyphs. Limited in supply. But they come back here, max range, Novy Jork. Means we can resupply, Rowan can cook up more potions, and Silas can...do whatever he does with skulls these days. Oksana's put a fairly chunky illusion spell inside here so any visitors won't see this apart from us."

Oksana winked to Rowan, waving her PB in one hand, Marlborough Gold cigarette in other.
"That one isn't just in Wiz-Tac." She smirked, inhaling a deep bit of cig, before looking to Felix.

"Ready in five, team. Everyone, set comms. We'll head east and start this merry fucking adventure." He sarcastically called to the team, knowing that barely recovered from a drinking session, they were off to go do some recon by fire. Find out their situation. And packed up, as much gear as they could carry in tactical packs, rifles in hands, they were prepared to walk into the big, dark, gloomy Polavian, pine woods, trees swaying in the breeze, the moss like carpet against pinecones and sticks of wood.

Behind the clouds, an infinite, endless ocean of stars, the crescent moon, and the silouette of tactical wizards on the move.

Outro to Hawaii


Soundtrack: Ian Brown- F.E.A.R (UNKLE Remix)

With a wrap up in the studio, the group were back in New Hilo, surrounded by crowds of people, in the Fan Zone within an elevated platform.

"Well, what a race we have had, and well, Hawaii has shaken up the leaderboard once again. We're so grateful to be here, and wow, what a passionate group of fans. Hawaii, would you like to lead us out?" Aurora asked the audience behind her in the Basque Park, to an overwhelming yell in the evening Fan Zone, a smile forming on her face as the scene cut to the outro film.

And so, the outro movie to Hawaii played. The slow mo-shots of ships pulsing past the waterfall, one by one, the smack between Han and Jenny, the fight between Florence and Bea, the frustration of Paul visible on his face as he went inside, a split-screen of Jen going through the same, but most of all, Dorian cheering, smiling with trophy in one hand, yellow and grey suited European flag-draped, enjoying the hurrah that was this circuit. And what a way to do it.

A final drone shot, of the volcano, the night, and the sound of nightlife, as with it, the Delta Hyper and Formula AG excursion to Hawaii came to a close.




DIGITAL /// INTERFACE //// ANODE




Soundtrack: KOAN Sound- Red Shift

"Start Sequence." The voice is monotone. Robotic. Intentionally.

A grain — microscopic, almost alive — floats in the center of frame. Then, a low-frequency resonance, the sound of containment fields activating. Titanium and lead panels snap together around it in perfect sequence — like origami folding in on itself, boosted by the light thrum of a unit that kept it aloft, with slowly, bits combining.

An Anti-Gravity Generator.

The “black box” glows emerald and violet. A single grain spins faster, and faster — the anti-gravity bubble blooms outward, shimmering like oil on water.

"Connection established. Anode, active."

In the white and grey digital void that feels almost like a digital render of a garage rather than a real world frame, parts started flying in. Exhausts, the engines, latching into position, chassis, carbon black and halo-like gold and silver, particles of paint decorating the ship in the specialist livery of Nordic Call's "Singapore Lion" livery, a black livery with gold and streaky pink metallic semi-conductor like lines across it (paying homage to the original) in the paint flecking into place, bit by bit, piece by piece. The aero, the underfloor and secondary vent ports, the glass and frame of the cockpit.

"Systems, ready."

All coming together, slowly but surely. The camera moves inside, revealing the hollow silhouette of a pilot forming. The pilot, inside in almost an MRI-scan like hollow of muscle, flesh, metal, synapses, nerves, bone, all slowly emerging in place in layer after layer, emerging and going out to undersuit, pilot gear, and the visored, harnessed, sitting, waiting, anticipating, view.

"Interface, ready."

The ship's whine heightening in pitch.

The pilot's visor lights up — golden reflection catching the digital void. The ship’s canopy seals. A soft mechanical inhale. The white void collapses into black.

"Pilot, ready?" The voice is still, without life, the hollow voice slightly feminine, but almost uncannily like it was machine playing human. Almost like the voice in a pilot's head that the ship would come out with, some pilots customising theirs, but played out loud as if it was a character of it's own. The ship's vox, if you will. The voice of the ship holding a pilot in, and trusting every decision and helping commit it to reality.

Black swallows the white void as the engines spool, about to dart forward......

And the ships emerges from it, roaring in a way that it literally set the world into colour.

And the scream increases, Singapore in full view, following the ship through, a clever drone shot. A cut back of the camera, revealing the gigantic Singapore Flyer wheel, with Marina Bay behind it, the main start-straight, and a tracking drone shot, the sound of screaming cutting through chicanes and then re-engaging, pivoting to the skyline of Singapore.

"Welcome to Marina Bay."




Thursday 1st September, 2094
Merlion Ultra, Marina Bay, Singapore
1700 SGT

ZONE




Soundtrack: Mist- Smart Systems

With the technical marvel that was the intro out of the way, the scene cut to a sim, well, now a chair, no controls visible, this being akin to a home setup. No controllers. Just a small box that acted as a node that connected to the wider cloud-based network of quantum-based supercomputers, in the cloud, able to render something far beyond the recognition of any home-based device. Instead, it was a simple chair, not far off that of a pilot's seat, with a view over the sunset in Marina Bay. A minimalist, Chinese-themed room with a panoramic view of the dusk sky of Singapore outside of it. Marina Bay Sands

The Lion City had its famous hotels, but around it, a swathe of 90, 100 storey tall buildings dominated the scene, the historical pieces surviving, but this. A city that was like New Hilo, but unlike the more insular, co-operative, sustainability dominant form of eco-capitalism that the Basque population had fostered, Singapore seemed as always, a pot of everything. Indian, Malaysian, Chinese, Thai, even the old English influences dominated everything, from skyscraper ads to the core tech and financial institutions that made this home. If Hawaii was a node, a marker of a new economy, Singapore was the crowning jewel of about everything else. The centre of the world, not an outpost. A hybrid chimaera of globalism, built in control, not in chaos, the pointed, serrated edge of hyper-capital and the world of tomorrow. Tokyo seemed outrageously built up and dense and felt almost out of body compared to the density of Singapore- yet the latter for its people, green yet safe, efficient, incredibly so. A place where technology didn't overwhelm, the greenery didn't shade, and people seemed to be, broadly, given security and inclusion. A humanitarian sort of cyberpunk, if you will. Prosthetics may have been more common in Tokyo than here, but if you were looking for the melting pot, it was here.

This was an anti-Hilo, capital poured out the windows but made sure to keep every inch clean and every service at beck and will, in a lavish, unrestrained excess rather than a slow, sybiosis with nature. It was a heaven if you could find it, public transit and connections instant, everything immaculately clean from automation, education, health, everything, to an nth degree. The same atmosphere at New Hilo, albeit with the density, that came with entertainment, nightlife, cuisine and an ability to feel welcome, rather than detached. A place you could find yourself in and not feel a foreigner. It was optimised for the world to come to it, where it felt like instead of parking itself in a few years ago in cutting edge sustainability technology, this was the furthest, farthest step humanity took into a brave future that felt interconnected, technologically advanced, and where anything was possible.

But that came with something else. A surveillance state. A feeling of having your entire personal freedom stripped. You could do anything here, any morality, any vice, all of it, but it felt like doing it nude. Singapore didn't feel like anywhere any of the pilots came from.

It felt like Disneyland with the Death Penalty.

If Hilo felt like a party, a model for a future still being moulded in locality, Singapore had decided to open to the world, and lock the gates high. It was always there, that punkish, brackish underworld, but it wasn't as edgy as Tokyo, or as illegal as New Lagos, or Sao Paolo or Buenos Aires. It wasn't the tradition of London or Paris, it felt strangely transient in being almost a little like it tried to hard to be cool. Functional, yes, absolutely, but....the glass was too polished.

From the window of the the 104 storey skyscraper overlooking the track and the other towers, as well as the bay itself, with its iconic ferris wheel still in place, Rosie was back on screen, in place of Aurora.

"Inspired by the recent update to AG2024, the official racing game of Formula AG, we thought we'd introduce our pilots to a new mode updated in the game that our pilots themselves might be familiar with. Whilst you may be able to make the game anything you can dream of, quite literally, we thought we'd introduce a curated mode, inspired by Amy Stirling and her two-time winning success." Rosie added, walking past the sim, hands on hips, excitable smile, always.

"This is Zone Mode. A challenge for how fast a pilot can be, in absolute terms. Not our traditional format, but....as you'll see, a new frontier."

The render around Rosie collapsed, as it seemed like the skyscrapers and walls around fell, revealing a digital, AR-enabled world.



The only visuals being grey-looking ships, that were the outlines of existing models, and what looked like the outline of strange, swirling in the air, physical almost but more like glyphs or digital outlines, particles blowing around.

"Zone is curated as an ultimate test to make you feel the speed and risks at the top of Formula AG. And to do that, we take you beyond the track into a cutting edge, training tool used by some pilots as part of reflex training. Ships start at low speeds, and advance through speed class after class, sector by sector, speeds steadily increasing. Getting to the point past any AG ships, and no human being could handle." As if to demonstrate it, a ship roared past, blowing what looked like particles out of the way in digital mesh. A world in white, grey and neon strip-like white walls for ships to stay within.

"Constant throttle, and only air brakes to get through corners. To account for that speed, this digital world is stripped bare to create virtually zero latency. No distractions. Just....lots and lots of speed. Best enjoyed with your Neural Link, as our pilots will show you!" Rosie chirped, as she looked through the circuit, walking around, the only piece of human in this digital reality.

"They call it a synapse builder, with pilot modifications and neural links being put to their test, building bonds between a pilot's lightening fast reactions until they can react superhumanly fast- making slow speeds to most seem perfectly normal to our pilots. Think of it like a reaction training machine, only a little more practical! It's a test that Layla Al-Nadir has described as one of the most addictive in training, is now available to you. How far will you go?" Rosie asked, smirk on face.

Exhaling hard, the world peeled back into the studio in Singapore, as Kais, Bea, Paul, Nora, Astrid and Jen all appeared, back in the skyscraper, all in front of the simulator, with a few holographic monitors for the others to watch, and a comfy chair for the others to get into, get plugged in, and dive into a virtual racing game's training mode.

"Hi all! So, who's up first?

Jen eagerly threw her hand up, between climbing sessions, being an addict to this in testing.
"Me please! Oh man, I love this." She cackled, walking across, passed the cable by Rosie and given the chance to sit down.

"It is good fun this. But you're all watching so I can't promise I will do so good!" Jen replied, chuckling, the start up engaging, as immediately, she lept into Zone.

It was strange, but Augmented, artificial reality meant that with a neural implant, you could see through the monitors the version of Jen engaging with the ship, climbing in and sealing it shut, same as anything real. Third person of course, was optional, any good video game got that, but Jen liked first. It felt about the same as the real thing. It was half a klick off their simulators, given how vivid, realistic and close they'd gotten nowadays.

"Any bets on who will go...wow, that is impressive from Jen there!"

The ship roared, the circuit far more undulating, but flowing- like an adapted Istanbul AGP circuit, but with some completely un-real sections in it with drops that would kill a ship normally, but here, seemed harmless.

Being in Zone revealed a lot. If you looked at an EEG, you could literally see the points of synapses linking together through corners, bonding the pilot to the ship. This was not a formal version of it, not like what the teams used to build synapses as part of pilot mod implementation, from the surgery table out to the simulators, more a gamified version. But, they had a little chance to prove how superhuman they were. The rare moment where an actual pilot could be a record holder, based on their literal wetware.

It kept going. To say that Zone 10 was a normal AG ship, Zone 20 about twice that, somehow, Jen managed to get to 24- the screen mostly a blur to anyone mortal. Before her ship smacked the neon side of the track, and spat her back awake, jolting her upright as her innate feeling of inertia stopped, levelling out.

"Damn! Okay, not as good as it is in the factory, but I have all eyes on me!" Jen chuckled, stepping out of the seat, letting the next person have a go, cleaning the cable, ready for the next user.

It was about to be competitive, but as it turns out, the rating was directly influenced by however high the pilots had their "pilot mods" set. This of course, meant that Kais seemed a little unnaturally good....and Astrid less so.

This was less of an interview, more perhaps a test.




Thursday 1st September, 2094
Annapurna Restaurant, Tsai Wen Tower, Singapore
1900 SGT

Curry Night




Inside the Tsai Wen Tower, Amy took her seat at the head of the table, cutlery being dished out in the exclusive, high end restaurant, right by the bay three storeys up, hyper-exclusive yachts outside alongside seemingly floating, ultra-modern blocks rooted deep in the earth. Annapurna was a fusion restaurant, serving mostly Indian, Malay and Nepali dishes, and the expense for most pilots, even on their salary would be absolutely eye-watering. They weren't paid like old F1 drivers were, so a double-Michelin star having restaurant in a skyscraper, AVs on a pad outside ready to whisk pilots to their hotels and accommodation. NOVA and Nordic Call couldn't make this, having commitments elsewhere tonight.

Amy had already paid.

Sitting down, she already looked across, the digital ordering forms collected, as the conversation went from playful catchup, to more realistic shit-talking.

"Feeling the pinch?" Harrison jibed, as Amy tsk'd shaking her head.

"Not quite. But, looks like we have more to keep our spots, yeah? You're looking behind you. Me too!" Amy chuckled, giving Jen a gentle jab, Jen chuckling, shrugging, not really able to add anything more to it as Cassie finished with a popadom.

"Sure, so a three way race for the title. And yet, no certain edge. I'm just looking at Carrera and Valkyrie."

"Keeping you busy?" Ava asked, as Cassie shook her head, arms crossed.

"Well, you annoyed me with ELS last time. I'll give it more next time." Cassie replied, Dorian chuckling, nearly coughing up the prawn cracker her had.

"Don't write off another ship here!" Dorian chuckled, as Cassie's face turned to immediate thunder, like a teenager had gotten a strop, Dorian shaking his head, sipping down more of the incredibly vintage, 2021 Alsace that was a perfect pair for the fish-based stew he'd opted for. They all kept quiet, as the dishes came out, plates of gourmet food that were far, far, far above that of their usual dietary pick.

"Anyway. Question to you all. Everyone's neural link playing up, or you all fine?" Amy asked, as the vibe seemed to change, almost as if the voices dropped to silence. No answers.

"I had some issues back in the last couple races. Worrying, to be honest. They think they got a fix. But I thought you know, nothing of it first either, so maybe, it was something you lot had too. Maybe the ELS or something else just tripped it on something? Anyone?" Amy seemed a little standoffish. This was weird. Why was she asking that?

Kais and maybe Bea would know why.

Dorian shook his head, the elder stateman of the group having nothing to add.
"Mine is fine. You going through withdrawals in the sub-frontal region? That can...." Dorian started, sitting up. "They fixed that last year though. Did you not go for it?" Dorian asked, as Amy didn't hide confusion.

"We have our own bespoke. Wouldn't have done anything." Amy replied, as Dorian shrugged, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Can't help you there then. I'm fine. We had a new one fitted and it's fit as a fiddle. Even in my old age." Dorian looked across as Hamid chuckled, brushing it off.

"Future is now though, old man. Whooped your ass at padel, habibi." The Moroccan added, chuckling, as he made a gesture with his hand, the dress code of smart casual coming through to him as an outlandish Moroccan designer shirt in traditional Berber form with jeans. Quite a combo.

"Anyone could whoop his ass at padel. But Amy could probably fucking see the future with hers. Until her changes. Right, Amy?" Ava chirped, outspoken, the more athletic of all of them looking across.

"Maybe. It's a bit of a difficult one. Just asking, because I hope none of you have got it."

"Oh god, you been spreading the clap?" Wedge commented, to a gaggle of laughter, the conversation changing altogether when everyone else had a plate of food served, and it was too awkward to return.

"Still kick your ass on circuit though, Hamid. Clap or not." Dorian sassily commented, as Hamid was silenced by a naan bread.

Across the room, Ava sat quietly next to Bea, glancing across to Kais. Not knowing about her own team-mate. They hadn't talked in a while. But she hoped he would find her. There was more to discuss, since last time. More she personally wanted too. The deal from the team sat in the back of her head.

And no doubt, Bea was a little horrified. Amy was scared. Barely able to show it, hiding it well, but Bea would see through that. Paul probably had no idea, as Dorian nudged him on the shoulder, leaning in.
"Talk later."
Day 1: 17:35:01
The World's End Pub
Village of Pristupin, Libor Province
Republic of Polavia


Getting Wrecked


Enough shit was flying around, that at this point, if the team were trying to forget the events of the last few months, they were receiving an indirect catchup.

Between Borys taking the breacher as a human shield, taking a piece off the board pretty fast, Keodis followed up rather nicely with a hurl of a beanbag at the witch holding up Rowan. Who herself was nifty enough to throw acid at her M4-come-staff wielding witch (inevitably making her scream as it burned the side of her face and arm) the follow up of weakened lightening catching fire on Harry's combat shirt. That said, it went out quick enough when it mostly landed and was spreading to another drunk, setting a Polavian farmer who was so shitfaced that he was basically a walking fire hazard, alight.

And still fighting.

A man was on fire punching someone in the face, and if you didn't find that funny, there was no hope really, was there?

It was a fistfight. Hands thrown, blunt objects and glass lobbed, and the entire team were getting battered. Not irreversibly so, some due to booze having more "health" than usual, others just having craft that solidified that. They were all trying not to die, trying not to get pinned, and it looked like something more from Kingsman than it did a thriller. Messy, unorganised, hellish. But no less funny to see a dude spread fire to his other pissed up friends, truly revealing that drunk Polavians were so much more of a threat than any special forces team could expect.

Resisting the urge to double tap Harry, Felix instead tried to make a way for the exit. The Holding Witch had other ideas, though, now caught up in the fight and holding back from opening fire on civilians. If she could at least land something on him, that would be best- and what luck would have it....he appeared to be moving right towards her!

The Holding Witch tried to swing for Felix given she could make a reverse tackle, but he went through her, ghosting past, as the witch was then set upon by another two alcoholics esteemed members of Polavian rural society, and getting a solid right hook. Felix on the other hand was throwing himself out of the window that Borys had made a hole in, his Copy Cat doing a perfect job of throwing the last operative off the scent.

Pistol raised, Felix kept pistol pointed back towards the window, knowing with distance, there was now an ability to make sure anyone following would at least get .45 ACP over their head, before it entered skull.
"Get back, you fucking morons! Davai, davai!" Felix yelled, backing away, looking around, keeping cover and letting Keodis get set up, checking his vodka bottle first, then the M249 to cover Felix's move. More fighting could be inside, the voice of English cutting through.

Harry yelled out, realising the situation was fubar, as they got cornered in a bit of the bar, holding comms on his rig, aware that they'd beyond fucked this raid up, knocking down another drunkard, firing rounds into air, creating breathing room as a few of the drunks backed off on gunfire. "Team, extract hot via glyphs, we'll regroup at OP Violet!" It was retreat.

And like that, extraction glyphs hot, no Felix in tow because well, between him, the team and getting Felix, were now a plethora of drunk villagers. Half his team being disarmed, and very little hope they'd be able to win a fistfight without causing an international incident, they were leaving. Killing everyone in the bar was not on their order list, Harry was at least professional enough to say that.

So, Extraction Glyph time it was. The glyphs were ideally their way get the hell out once they had Felix in hand, out of the bar, but it would dump them back at their observation post a few miles away, where a helicopter would have to be told to cancel their pickup. They weren't far from the fight, but back to square one. Teleportation was only so good in range with a glyph like that, especially with an anticipated "passenger". It wasn't worth even asking how it worked, once again, being another mystery left to another day.

Felix could see the smoke from it pop, and realised that it was a sign the team of special forces wizards that had descended upon them- had decided they'd missed their mark. Getting killed was stupid over this, versus coming back to fight. They could have kept chasing relentlessly, but the mission was compromised. Sensible really. He looked to Keodis and Borys, the two having taken the window route. Voluntarily, and involuntarily, inversely.

"Holy shit, that was intense. Harry was always an asshole at the bar on shore leave. And it's five o'clock somewhere Keodis....they're off in a hurry. I think I'll lay off the sauce for now. Suit yourselves if it helps you make sense of this insanity." Felix commented, laughing, looking to Oksana, Keodis and Borys, glad they'd survived this. Oksana had followed him out, keeping herself out of trouble, not seeing any situation she was going to be able to help out in this close. Apart from rip shit into Felix.

"It's not five o'clock, it's 5:38, actually!" Oksana dryly remarked, getting no laughs from that one as she kicked the man who tried to go for Keodis in the side, knocking the wind out of him before he could get up. "Okay, my babushka, she can keep us out of the way. Felix, we'll talk later about why a DSR team is after you. But they'll be back, and alone, we're at risk. We need to go there, and lay low for now. If we get seperated....it's two kilometre west, follow the dirt road, a tiny little hut with a yellow tile roof." She added, as Felix nodded, just in case the team were split up.

With the DSR team seemingly giving up, Felix knew their window was short as hell given the threat had now shifted. The barfight was significant enough to no doubt raise suspicions and police would be here sooner rather than later. Even if the Polavian Police were not as terrifying as their former Security Apparatus predecessors, it was time to make a swift exit.

"We need to get armed if they do come back. And get moving. Wait, where's Rowan gone?" Felix asked, as they realised the two groups had split up. Rowan had made a move for her car, and Felix realised the two groups had split. Divided by drunkards now as the bar fight spilled out.
"I'll find out!"

----

Running out, Oksana ran after Rowan, seeing the raiding team poof in clouds of burst smoke, exhaling hard, brushing off the debris and dirt from her ink-covered arms. She looked to Rowan in the distance, who was running for a Mercedes-Benz E-Class, an estate car that by this point had gotten a slight smattering of mud and dirt. Oksana bolted, closing the distance, the rest of the team making tracks away, down the road, the other way.

Oksana ran up, tapping the bonnet, sliding across it from where it was parked in the street.
"My babushka....my grandmother, she can hide us, we're going to be hunted if we don't leave now! Let's grab the rest!" The sound of police sirens could already be heard, the pub calling it in as the brawl continued inside like something from an old cartoon. More swearing, as another drunk got thrown outside. Had they not realised that the raid was done?

"Shotgun!" She yelled, opening the passenger door, conveniently, where there was also, the Mossberg just sitting there hidden between the seat and the door. With it, Rowan had the chance to floor it, but they were getting split by a crowd of drunk pub goers....unless they were chased back.

---

Felix and the crew ran through the muddy street, the sound of the fight continuing behind them. But a handful had followed them through. And weren't stopping. More sirens could be heard. They had to get these idiots away. They couldn't keep running, the enemy was powered with potatoes and vodka, and pure anger. All of which meant they weren't escaping. Drunk energy was making them run as fast as the team were, and right now, much as Felix wanted to shoot, turning around, he realised they had probably cleared enough ground, and could hear the engine of Rowan's car incoming, to make it count when it mattered.

"Hang on. I have this lot." It was crowd control time.

And with it, the man put pistol down, the ginger-haired soldier suddenly shifting, turning, and what seemed like a blur, the ginger-haired, olive-hoodie wearing operator suddenly manifesting out of reality. And back into something else. A party trick.

From two feet, to four, the plate-carrier wearing lion trotted along, eyeing up immediately the man who was still bleeding from the head now, who was now holding a machete of some kind and running after the team in a jog. Where on earth did he get that?

And the machete-holding, pisshead, may have realised that even if him and his friends were angry enough, he had brought a knife to a lion fight. The others were likely thinking of shooting, fighting, or something else altogether.

Felix stood his ground and made a decision there. In front of the team, pointed at others, he roared. A guttural, frothy sound. Even when drunk, even as rural as some of these idiots were, likely thinking they could take on a bear, a lion? Well, it was out of place. Out of area. And one that with the weight behind it, of pure, hellbent frustration, made it clear that this was a man who wanted to eat. A thump of the mud, and he stood regal, poised, growling. About to charge, eyes locked.

"Blyat! Run!"

Another roar, and Felix watched as they turned and ran, before looking back at Keodis and Borys. He had an underlying hum to him, a gutteral, almost bloody sound in his throat. A fully grown armoured African Lion was quite the sight, and now, perhaps the two understood the reputation if they hadn't seen it in person. He was sizable enough to brush his mane past both, before shifting back, the operative glancing down the street as Oksana and Rowan arrived as the others ran away, deciding their decisions were better to go back inside and continue boozing.
"I think we're done. I'm starved. Or I'm going to start finding out what Polavian tastes like if this fucking country throws more drunk people at us. That was the worst bar fight I think I've ever been in. You both holding up?" Felix casually added, boots squelching into mud, and putting out a hand to the Mercedes that skidded to a halt, the team making tracks to get in, and get the hell out.




Day 1: 18:01:42...
Oksana's Babuskha's House (Oksana's Grandmother)
Somewhere outside the village of Pristupin, Libor Province
Republic of Polavia

Blood Alcohol Levels: Questionable


Get Breaded


The music on the radio was of course, Polavian in quality.

Soundtrack: Kino - Gruppa Krovi

Felix had diverted halfway en-route, the team just exhaling for now- getting dropped off halfway and heading into the woods, heading to a dead-drop he'd left, recovering a weapons crate buried in the forest. The rest of the team had been driven through the muddy tracks by Rowan, guided by Oksana, who tried to keep her feet on the mats of the Mercedes, which may have once upon a time been a posh car, but was now the chosen car of any two-bit gangster in Polavian countryside. So it fit the bill, because it was generic enough to blend in, while giving some performance at least.

Keodis also had a chance to stop by his range- which was en route- and grab his supplies. It looked like he couldn't get his armour, not yet at least, so he had the rest of his tools, whatever he could muster. Borys had much of his scavenged gear too, however he could get them, for the time being. The final stop, with sirens in the village visible, was the Polavian's grandmother's little hut in the woods.

The team all clambered out, the small hut quaint little farmhouse exactly as Oksana described, like something almost a little too stereotypical. A rural Polavian farm, with less in the way of fields, more in the way of pine forests that were now growing out over fallow strips between them.

So, when the team faced it down, the lion emerging from the bushes might have thrown some of them. He'd run a bit faster here that way, than, in his human form, but it wasn't any less intimidating. Carrying all he could on that form was also quite efficient too. A lion covered with his rifle, ammo, and all the other supplies that came with a modern mercenary's setup. The cabin had been useful. But this? This was his backup.

The lion groaned, the sound being that of hunger.

"Ah, crap. Not now." Oksana noted, looking to the rest, as Oksana's grandmother opened the door, the 80-something year old woman waving.

"Sanka, you were out so late! And who are your new friends?" Oksana looked up, the outside light illuminating all four of them....including a lion. For her, she'd lived such a life under the regime, at this point, she had given up even questioning why in the actual shit there was a lion. She'd seen enough repression that if she was going to be eaten by the lion, she'd probably just die of laughter there and then.

It was like Oksana's grandmother didn't even question it, as the lion slobbered like some dog, looking up, Oksana groaning.

"Fucking hell. Can you be normal and not starve? There is food in it if you do." Oksana whispered to him, as the lion half grunted, the blur almost like a piece of reality stopped existing for half a second and then it did where the lion was, a person seemed to appear.

"Dammit, that hurts. You have no idea how much it's shitty when I'm starved in that form. And this one." Felix replied quiet, as if his other form had kicked him out, and back to normality he was, as Oksana stepped forwards, dusting her feet off in the mud-trap brush at the base of the steps.

"Some other mercenaries. They're all friendly. Borys is Polavian, so you can..."

"Ah, he is so hungry that he is becoming a lion, he needs more food! And the short one too! All of you do!" She replied in perfect Polavian, as Oksana groaned, Felix chuckling (without realising Borys would have understood that joke), not even understanding any of it, but knowing they were absolutely, definitely being looked after here.

"Come on in! I have food already, it's been there for ages! You need to tell me when you bring friends, I would have prepared even more!" Oksana's grandmother replied, the elderly lady tiny, with glasses that looked like headlight bulbs, a wooden cane, and hair that had been grey since her 40s. Her grand-daughter coming home to spend time with her was of course, adorable, and well, not quite what the team would expect in "shit hit the fan, find a place to lay low".

She wasn't exactly taking no for an answer, and her poor English was no barrier to the team getting food, despite the fact they'd just been hunted by drunk locals and special forces wizards.

So, they all headed in, cleaning their shoes before they went in, and the scene cut wide to the house, the hours ticking forwards.

For a team being hunted, this was a strange stop to make. Not one they could easily just walk out of either now they were being fed whether they liked it or not.




Later....


Day 1: 21:21:42
Babuskha's House (Oksana's Grandmother)
Somewhere outside the village of Pristupin, Libor Province
Republic of Polavia

Bellies: Full


Walking back out, the entire team groaned, even Felix, walking into the rainy dusk, the sun clear of the horizon and trees in the distance.
"How the hell did she make that much food? There's like, not enough pantry?" The Libolian asked, as if her getting his wish from earlier. He left a ton of it in a foil-wrapped parcel, for.....later.

Most cultures understood the common joke of going to grandparents and getting a full feed. But in Polavia, like a certain kind of culture it felt brought in by, that meant being fed kilo after kilo by grandparents. They wouldn't care how tall or short you were, how fat or thin you were, they would say you needed more food and they would for some reason, have it already on a stove so you couldn't just turn it down.

And no, you couldn't just say it was enough. That wasn't a craft, that was just how it went. The team could barely move, and if Felix even wanted to sort his other half's problem out, current him was five kilos heavier to care.

"Ey! I told you we would get a feed." Roxie replied, herself, feeling like nothing beat her food. Especially after a few shots of vodka, a proper feed was like methadone to a heroin addict. They all walked outside, the chat at dinner about how things were going, how they'd met, but more than anything, a bit of silence. They were sobering up far too early, and the team were together now, at least, outside of the chaotic start they'd gotten in the rural setting.

Flicking the halogen light on, the old aluminium-roofed barn had been an old, small cowshed, hay scattered where the old dairy cows had once sat, and a couple of tables for gunsmithing and iterating on their gear dragged all over the place. A place for the team to set up shop, with whatever they'd been carrying, whatever they'd scavenged, gotten from nearby. Space was limited inside the farmhouse, so Oksana and her grandmother had pulled out whatever quilts, hay, and gas heating that they could to keep them warm inside this makeshift FOB. She was currently carrying a massive stainless steel looking tank, with a tap at the bottom of it, and a pile of ceramic mugs.

"So, as I translated, our antics made it on local news. Fifteen injured, and rumours that at the centre of it, they're hunting not just one, but four foreign crafters. Police are already closing the gap. We can't go back in that way. And every road out is blocked with checkpoints, looking for foreigners now. So it's not great. And before anyone even asks, I do not trust the police. I have my reasons." Oksana translated what they'd watched earlier, but thought to repeat it, as she honed in on Big Cat Actual.

"Why are they are they after you, Felix? I can't read your mind. But I will tell whichever version of you decides to lie." The Polavian asked, as she slid into an overshirt given it was getting colder, picking up her PP-19, slapping a magazine inside, silencer attached, as she adjusted her setup. Better to have a gun now. She didn't want to sit here waiting, not with everything else going on.

"Of course I don't have any chance of telling fibs. They want me because I'm an officer, and they want higher ups in the company arrested. And, you'll never believe this, they never took me to account on what I did to that horse in the DSR. Why they went that full force, who knows. They seemed like they wanted something else too. Any of you lot up to no good?" Felix replied, setting down his equipment at a table, sighing. He knew the answer. It was yes, just in varying manners. He didn't, of course, know that Rowan had come close to toppling a terrifying nerve agent programme in Kalan, Keodis upsetting the applecart in Medil, and Borys? Throw a dart at any post-it with a sin on it, and he had done it.

"And why the hell did you throw a bottle at a local as our best chance? See that one through, because now that went from a raid, to an entire village getting into a fistfight?" Felix barbed, Oksana now on the defensive, flabbergasted.

"Oh, no worries Felix, thank me later for saving your ass. I did what was needed in that situation. So go fuck yourself after feeding you, getting you here, everything." She sighed, just exhausted to argue now. "There's nothing from me that a DSR team would want. Unless special forces want to revoke a visa with extreme prejudice." Oksana barbed back, Felix looking up as he threw down his plate carrier, sliding mags inside.

"They would have picked you up as well in that raid. Realised we're all linked, like it or not. Come back for seconds given half of Reactor is on a Deck of 52.....and that's now added to their board. We fight together or we die alone now. We'll need that. Rowan had a point about us all being here in the same place. Shit as it is. It's what we have." The Libolian reminded Oksana as she turned, as Felix loaded a magazine into the 417, the shortened battle rifle set up the way he liked it, and set it on the bench with the rest of his kit. Full tacticool. A sigh from the Polavian.

"Fine." Oksana didn't like the fact he was right. Nor the fact that it didn't change the facts of their situation. "I don't want us to stay here, hiding isn't going to help. But we can't take the roads. We need a plan." Oksana retorted.

"Have you got a map?" Felix asked, as Oksana pointed to the tourist map in the corner on another bench.

As if by demand, Felix was pacing over and peeling it out, pinning it onto the wall with a hammer and nail, unfurling it. "This'll do." He stepped back, a nearby marker pen making this all rather handy. He scrawled their location, triangulating it in.

"I love a good map. Okay. I'll have a think. So far, Keodis lost his armour because he sold it, we're all wanted now, and the DSR somehow want something to do with me, and maybe, soon you lot too. We need new papers, definitely. And I have a feeling we need to make that choice, tonight." Felix replied, Oksana sliding in a mug beneath the big Samovar tank, pouring out mint-looking tea, and shoving a few cups onto the table.

"Solid Friday. This shit's made out of nettles from the forest. Cure for insanity." Oksana quipped, sipping tea, the team getting a moment of reprieve, a moment to set themselves up, and get ready for what was to come.

"I have a handful of ideas on how we come back here. We're gonna need a shitload of glyphs. But I think we need to get out. Get a train. And get ourselves some answers." Felix noted, scribbling in the team on some nearby markers. Time to run this like an op.

"Rowan, think you might be able to batch up some glyph ink? We might need a fair chunk of it. I have something in mind. Your car and big cauldron might be stuck here, but....I think that DSR team reminded me, those extraction glyphs are some absolute bullshit that we need way, way more of. And some breaching ones to come with. Borys, think you can help her?" Felix asked, looking across, letting the chemical warfare witch get her setup. "Please. I know you're in no right to trust me after all that. But let's give ourselves a fighting chance, shall we?" Felix moved to the next, seeing the larger Medilan come through, no doubt feeling the hurt from the fight.

"Keodis, grab yourself some grenades. My supply is yours. You'll make more work with them. The M249 might not last long, so we might need to work out alternatives. Can you lend Oksana a hand with loading up our ammo?" The female Polavian grimaced, looking at Keodis, sighing.

"Fine. He can help." She replied, putting cup down, sliding one to him.

"Sorry about the comment earlier. I am...blunt. Just, it's a pain in the ass. You moved, didn't die, so it's all good. And, I enjoyed your pranks because it pissed people like Felix off." Oksana giggled to Keodis, sliding across a mag of Borys's, with bullets in a box and magazine to follow, setting up her own little station too.

The team were all together now, all gearing up, and it was an early morning rollout, so NVGs would be needed, as well as their limited array of kit as tactical wizards, witches and arcane specialists.
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