FourtyTwo

Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont

CREDITS

NOTE:

This RP is a relaunch of an RP run by RisingRobin, so will use some of the framework that he has built, including the initial setup of the world. This work will therefore be a production that is original, produced independently but based upon much of the same content that he made, so existing characters can be directly ported! Lots of the sheets / formatting is owed to him, but the content from here will be produced on a new basis!

roleplayerguild.com/topics/197146-dis…

Welcome to Dispatch!

Here to save the world?

Well, the subscribers are the only ones that pay for you to save their world. So let's focus on that first, yeah?

But like they say, you make sure SDN are their rock, so they can rock, right?

And maybe, just maybe, you'll find your way out of a suburban city where nothing happens to DTLA, up in the top of the game, where the biggest heroes are in the world?

For now, best we do an workplace induction. We'll cover the city, and go over your job application.

Claremont, Los Angeles, California

Claremont, California

The city of Claremont is a quiet suburb, mostly with academia, the "Claremont Colleges", lots of trees, indie bars, and not much going on.

This is as quaint as American subrubia gets, and you're here because you're starting out, retiring, or really, really weren't up to scratch in the hustle of central Los Angeles. The branch covers Ontario, and Rancho Coronado, so the distances are big to scale for the lack of action, meaning our heroes, already stretched, have a lot of ground to cover. But not that there is much to respond to.

This is remarkably, not as hot a posting as Compton, Long Beach, Torrence. Or compared to any other city on the East Coast.

But, did you think you'd get off easy posting here? Drunk frat boys, the gangbangers who are trying to gentrify "The City of Trees and PhDs", and there's always other branches which might need your hero's.....specialist capabilities. Don't be surprised if you get the phone call to DTLA too. There's plenty going on in that big city, and beyond the leafy city, and you're certainly going to be on that frontline.

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Job Listings

Hero

Bold, brave and always fighting to protect those who cannot protect themselves, you are always willing to take charge and throw yourself head first into danger… however life-threatening it may be.

Are you a first time hero looking to make your mark? Maybe you've been active for awhile and are looking for a change? You may even be one of those hopefuls who think you can run with DTLA. If this applies to you, then Claremont is the place to be. We have open tryouts regularly and unlike SOME SDN branches, we’re willing to look past your powers and see what use you can do regardless. We believe even un-powered civilians can make a difference! Looking at you, Mecha-Man! (Disclaimer: SDN Claremont does NOT encourage non-powered civilians to apply without SIGNIFICANT assistance).

Phoenix Program

The Phoenix Program offers a variety of benefits including health insurance coverage, 401K matching, and most importantly an honest, consistent paycheck.

For those of you joining us from the “other side” of the law, you’ll find a place in the Phoenix Program. Due to a decline in employment for heroes since the Brave Brigade incident, you’re being brought in to fill the gaps in our lineup. Not only will you get a chance to actually do some good with your lives, but if you do well… we may look into commuting your sentences. Be aware that if you have criminal history, you'll be required to submit to annual screenings and drug tests to ensure you aren't backsliding. We've learned a lot since Torrance's issues with the bat guy...

Office Staff

Lastly, we have our core team of office workers, managers, sales reps, R&D, and - of course - our dispatchers. These are the people who form the backbone of SDN and ensure the office runs smoothly throughout the workday. From simple tasks like keeping the office clean to providing crucial field support for the heroes; it’s these folks who are the REAL heroes. Just like in Downtown, much of our staff is made of former heroes themselves! They just never quite hit the big time (Or made it at all). Nevertheless, get to know these folks. They’ll be there when no one else is!

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Job Application aka Character Sheets

(IMAGE HERE!)

"Character quote here. Show us some personality!"

Age: Pretty self-explanatory. Age in the real world.

Appearance: At least a paragraph or so (if possible), and mention any information not visible in the above picture.

Role at SDN: What does your character do at SDN? Hero? Dispatcher? Phoenix Program?

Background: Let’s learn about your character. Ideally, over 3-4 paragraphs.

Hero/Villain (if applicable)

Appearance: Same as up top. Mention any information not visible in the above picture.

Powers: How is your character defending himself/herself? Are you a physical fighter or more of a ranged attacker?

Crimes (If Villain): What did your character do before joining the Phoenix Program? Do you want to reform? Or is this an easy payday?

Likes: List some things your character likes
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Dislikes: List some things your character dislikes
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Quirks: Add some details that make your character unique! Can be an odd habit or just some information not revealed in the image or the backstory!
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Stat Specialisations:

[[STAT ALLOCATION (13 Total Points):
All heroes / Phoenix Programme personnel start with a base of 1 in all 5 stats. You have 8 additional points to spend, with a maximum of 4 in any stats at the start:

Combat: Fighting, Weapon Mastery, Pure Power
Vigor: Endurance, Pain Tolerance, Strength
Mobility: Stealth, Evasion, Speed
Charisma: Negotiation, Deception
Intellect: Hacking, Analysis]]

Combat:
Vigor:
Mobility:
Charisma:
Intellect:

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Workplace 101 (How the RP Works)

This RP will rely upon one of my characters acting as a "Dispatcher".

This will rely on a loosely "Storyteller" based system, where your character's traits will be matched against a luck-based system to see how you complete tasks. This means your reactions will be to dispatched jobs, and whether they went well, or not. You might not be dispatched to the right job, but based on my experience of running other RPs such as Delta Hyper, this means no result is always the same, and you'll always have a fun reaction!

That said, beyond this, the RP is also qualitative in most other ways, with a rough "arc" of a plot. So if you're not a dice or systems person, don't worry- you'll still have plenty of room to work / play around here!

There'll be a broad pivot that you'll play an "Afternoon" shift at SDN- split into two, with performance across the two used to inform how I as the GM react to you. You'll also have time outside of work, and the more you give, the more we'll all have fun. Plus, The Cowl Inn serves a mean Meanie IPA and is where you'll have the time to stretch your legs off shift.

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RULES

(Ruleset courtesy of Rhona W)

While this RP doesn't take itself seriously, we're gonna need a little here to make sure we're all on the same page. We do this, we all get to have wacky, fun characters and go for a thrill ride. If not, it sucks for everyone. Courtesy of SilverwindBlade's common rule set, please follow the following:

This is a modern to near-future setting. However, this ISN’T, and a setting hard and fast rule I have- a universe where everything else runs riot.

Post length is expected to be Casual to Advanced- no one or two line posts, please. This means at minimum two paragraphs in a post- four or so being optimum to really flesh out your character's response and furthering of the plot. I don't prescribe a top end limit, but use your imagination on how much you can write in a single segment- if it's longer, feel free to write longer! I usually do, you do not have to!

Follow Wheaton's Law at all times. Don't be a dick- GM is God, and while this RP is very fast and loose, if you're asked to bring something into line, expect there might be good reason for it.

This RP will have adult themes, and romance is a part of that if you want it to be- however, nothing that the Gods of RPG wouldn't want on the public side when smut is concerned. If you want to go beyond, that shit goes off this RP into 1x1 if it is 18+ in any manner. Before that though, be my guest.

Equally, I have no bloody problem with a bit of fucking swearing, you bunch of cunts, but don't take it to excess, all right, fuckers?

A sense of humour is not optional. Please be good-natured and good-humoured to one another in the OOC.

Minimum post of one per week, per person. If you can't post, please mention in the OOC or drop me a PM. If it's unexpected - i.e. family emergency, your internet goes out, etc - then just let me know when you come back, and I'll catch you up. These things happen. It is not my job to chase you to post! If you're interested enough to be here in the first place, then it's up to you to post. If you're 'too lazy' to keep up, then I'm too lazy to chase your arse to get you to do it. It's a matter of manners and etiquette.

Don't talk down to people. I don't care how much knowledge of real-world systems of geography you might have, or how much of an encyclopedia on legs you are about such things. If you're trying to be a smartarse because you've found a 'loophole', then you're not playing in the spirit of things, and you should probably leave. That's even with an admittedly loose playbook. Be kind, and the sort of person you would want to write with if you get something wrong, because nobody is perfect.

If I don't know about it, then it doesn't exist. You may have this amazing secret plot worked out for your character - but if you don't tell me about it, then it ain't happening. Because I've already got a storyline worked out, and if it doesn't fit, then it's not going in. Same with technology and whatever you 'think' it should be like- I am open to ideas, but tell me if you think it's something that makes you say "That might be too far out there".

Please respect the setting and keep it in mind- there's plenty of ridiculous and cool shit on offer, so play with that here- keep the other material to other RPs.

What you give, is what you get. Put in a lot into this RP, work with me in the lore, and I will make this pay off. Engage, play fair, and get to banter with your party-mates, because a great party relies on good vibes, and is for everyone, but to do that, you need to be real, be honest, not judge, and give yourself into the idea. This means if you really want to run riot, run riot and I'll basically give you the keys to do that, in that environment, with the detail you have. Within the line of the story, you have freedom to execute, react, interact, and play into the game how you want best, and I will always react to it, forcing you to change plans, and adapt. I'm investing a lot into this RP- I expect the same from players and while life gets in the way, I expect that if you're finding it hard to be interested, I prefer honesty over quiet, I really prefer being told if I'm doing something wrong than losing / tapering interest. Engagement for me is key because I will give it back for you!

That said, if you fob off the GM and other players, you will not enjoy it. If you repeatedly, refuse to engage, and want to do your own thing- go write your own thing. My RPs are self selecting, and I have a no assholes rule for that reason- I'm happy to listen to your ideas but also, don't be offended when I balance the RP for other players who also have theirs too. If you harm the fun of other players, I will also ask you to leave.

GM's word is final. I appreciate people wanting to help, but final approval for plot, lore, and characters comes from me. Though, by all means, please feel free to make suggestions and help others with ideas and information where possible, and point out if something isn't there or working when it should be, because that helps us all.

Lastly, and most critically- AI is fine for use in posts, but DO NOT post anything AI-generated that has not been flagged / marked up as such. This RP is meant to be a creative endeavour- and I don't want to see something put to generative AI tool if you can’t be bothered to write, as this hollows my reaction as a GM and will ruin yours, and other player experiences unless you make that clear that it was used in an assistive or responsible manner. Do not use generative AI text in creating your character, or writing without significant personalisation, modification and/or flagging where used. Use it for inspiration, lift stuff from it to help you describe something, use images (and tell me if so), but if it is found without reference, you will breach this rule. If this isn’t a rule you like, you can use AI to build you this RP in any generative tool, with all the detail copied into it, and you are welcome to play with it in your own time. Don’t make me, or other people who enjoy originally produced content read what you produce if it isn't your own.

DELTΔ HYPER (Anti-Gravity Racing, Cyberpunk/Solarpunk RP)

Round 15 of Formula AG
Saturday 7th October, 2094
Qualifying
Autódromo José Carlos Pace, Interlagos, São Paulo, Brazil
São Paulo AGP
1500 BRT

Torrencial

It started raining right at the end of the Junior AG race, in which Elise took first, and then, it felt like it didn't stop.

In rain like this, someone would have expected MMR, NOVA, or even SuperCat to make a stab at points. Astrid was the only one that actually had a competitive time.

Yet the rest of the top ten so far, were all from top teams. Harrison had a bad setup, yet again, and Paul hadn't done as well, given the handling debuff. Bea seemed to be the marker of pace, just clear of Cassie Neves, who was barely thousands of a second behind.

Nobody was letting up. Nobody was blinking. And in the rain, it left Amy Stirling, third from last to go. The last upset in the top ten.

Soundtrack: Noisia & Amon Tobin- Sunhammer (VIP)

Steadied on the end of the outlap, the spray from the outgoing Beatrix Ward had began to dissipate, but the rain hadn't died down.

"Okay, Amy, let's crank up the power. All sensors good. You like this track, don't you?"

Amy's lips turned to smirk.

"Yeah, I enjoy this one."

And out of Juncao, the ship agreed.

On board with Amy, the ship twitched through the first Senna "S" chicane, flickering left then right, the Curva do Sol replaced with a hard right turn with a MAG-tracked element that was all straight, and climbed steep, above the relatively upmarket suburb of Interlagos, the circuit flanked by a strong array of field generators given the infrastructure was at least six storeys above ground, over traditional clay roofs and brick and polymer buildings, the beam of Sao Paolo's skyline behind, illuminated in spite of the pouring, black-cloud monsoon rain. The track went all the way down Avenue Rubens Montano south-east as a long, straight-line ripe for ELS, turning left at the rail intersection with a long sweeping bend (a corner nicknamed "Borba"), following the Maglev trainline's former path as another long straight, before snaking left again at "Station" corner into another elevated section over the favela, an Esses-like section called "Dialma" putting the track at camber, left, right and back down, flying straight into the old Turn 4, Descida de Lago, turning it into a chicane rather than a long left-hand turn. The new addition had garnered controversy, but done right, it felt perfect for AG ships- the meeting of old circuit, with cutting edge, new, forcing a mid-track change in style to make the most out of the glue-like magnetism, especially given the rest of the circuit, unlike Argentina, was completely devoid of any MAG strips, not even banking to reduce corner speeds. It was still used as a conventional car-racing circuit, so the tarmac remained, and track limits were enforced, despite how tight the circuit was by modern standards.

As the windscreen pulsed, Amy kept it locked, purple flickering as the ELS whined, the LIDAR and sensor suite feeling honed in, tuned, perfect. In monsoon conditions, she felt at one, the ship still as glued, close in to her. Qualy was one half of the fight. She was very good at this. But the race was another.

Best way to do that was to set a gauntlet. And she barely seemed phased by the sheer volume of water and blindness, Ferradura creating a beautiful right hander uphill, before the chicane at Pinheirinho, Bico de Pato's sharp hairpin that required her to get turn in and almost drift the ship in this configuration, the lack of MAG tracking, banks or anything meaning that ships were actually forced to get slow. Not before Mergulho, which was basically a flat corner for ships with good enough stability, and fnially, Juncao, which made, or broke a lap. Amy kept it as far as she could on the outside, millimetres from being offtrack, before, as early as she could, peeling the ship tight in and slapping on throttle, nearly screaming as the ship came around out of the left hander and up the hill, pointed straight, the rain clattering the canopy hard directly into the LED floodlighting.

Delta was healthy to Bea. And she smashed her time, by two-hundredths of a second. As if to make a statement, to remind, she still had control here. It would be down to thousandths now for the top runners, but Amy, well, she still had that trick up her sleeve. And in the rain, her experience, and outright talent shone to trust a ship that was half her now.

"Incredible lap, that is P1, Amy, P1, bring it on home, it is chucking cats and dogs out there but you made that look effortless!" Amy heard from Keira, as she exhaled hard, the oxygen cycling through her lungs hard, as she smirked, keeping a relatively hot outlap going, thinking to herself about it all.

Was the risk worth it still? It felt like everyone was charging, were they on what she had? Or was the machine breaking down? She couldn't tell. Amy didn't want to rely on it. She just wanted to stomp, and let others talk. Bea was no doubt going to find that time intimidating, but you didn't win two championships without playing the psychology game. Pushing harder than she should have through Juncao maybe wasn't the smartest move, but tomorrow, she had a feeling she'd need to get a reset if she wanted to make sure Nora couldn't catch her in the points, and Southern Cross could be chased in the constructors.

Qualifying Results for São Paulo:

docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1qF6cn…

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Delta Hyper Interviews

Under a hexagonal, field-generator like parasol that let rain drip off the surface, the rainy, floodlit afternoon in Brazil had the teams all getting interviewed once more, everyone wearing high-tech raincoats.

"Bea, 2nd place. How are you feeling, sandwiched between a Cassie Neves that is hunting Valkyrie in the points, and an Amy Stirling, who is going to fight hard to keep first? It seems like she set that lap as a marker, how do you think you'll respond tomorrow?"

"Kais, an impressive qualifying from you, absolutely fearless! The points gap to Valkyrie still remains narrow, so do you think you'll be able to make the most of it tomorrow, in what look like mixed conditions?"

"Paul, we know you had issues in transit and some are saying your handling setups were affected by the riots in Buenos Aires. What is your plan for this weekend, it seems like you're positioned well to fight with the other big teams tomorrow, and grab some valuable points against Al-Saqr?"

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The platinum blonde haired, pole sitter had a shit-eating grin on her face, the question coming through about her obvious competition tomorrow.

"Yeah, well Bea is impressive, so I had to put a gauntlet down. I felt comfortable pushing the ship, and yeah, I know she's capable, she'll want to bounce back from her nasty crash last week. But same time, I've got plenty to keep me focussed. The fight at the top is picking up, but I back myself, like with Harrison last year!" Amy replied, the raincoat day-glo silver, as another reporter tried to get her, but she made her way out, clacking on racing legs rather than her usual given the pace of the interviews..

"Well, there's lots of rumours, but my goal is to keep scoring as many points for Zygon this year and next, as that's where my contract is. 3rd is super great for us, and we're putting on the pressure onto Valkyrie. We want to get them this year." Cassie put matter-of-factly, cutting seamlessly to her old rival, Dorian.

"Not amazing, poor run in Sector 2, the handling setup we thought we would have just isn't there after damage to our fabricators. We'll have to make do with what we have, and I was well below what I expected today. Just couldn't make it work, but Paul has set up well for tomorrow." His comments were dry, less than he would expect of himself, but then again, a bad setup, was a bad setup.

"Lots in it, we're right behind Paul and Kais, and they're both going to give me a good fight. Gotta keep the pressure on Amy, so I will be giving it everything tomorrow." Nora smiled, the smirk from the Aussie in her usual black (faux) leather jacket hiding a certain element of fear in chasing down the indomitable Stirling at the top of the timeboard.

"Well, the top teams are so far away, it feels impossible in this close of the season! But, we'll do what we can. We're pulling through, me and Ben are learning lots more about the ship, and setting the groundwork for next year. But yeah, let's see, a cheeky point would be great!" Florence replied, a usual grin, as she was ushered away, under the arm of a green and yellow jacketed engineer, the teal blue and orange suited pilot of Max Wedgewood coming in next.

"Yeah, kinda what Florence said! The top teams are there for a reason, and at Sao Paolo, a bit like Auckland, the absolute best ships are getting shown. It's a shame to be leaving MMR but I'll put all on the line tomorrow, and we'll do what we can." Max added, chirpy as ever, even if he got a massive load of rain as he walked out of the bubbled up area.

"It feels good, very good! The ship is connecting, yalla, I hate rain but it felt so nice to put the speed we have down. This circuit is amazing!" Hamid excitedly chirped, Aurora replying with a grin of her own behind the camera, cutting to an actually not frowning Astrid.

"9th is good. We want points. Try and keep up with MMR. But uhhh.....we shall see. I like rain and mixed conditions. And the ship is good, soo.....yes." Astrid made more than just a handful of words, and well, it showed in her actually breaking out....a grin at the end. Fuck.

Kofi was less happy.
"Not that great. Bad setup, the ship was so slippery in Sector 1, just couldn't make it work. C'est la vie." He shrugged, moving out of frame, as quickly as he had come in.

Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex (Military, Modern, Fantasy, Action-Thriller)

Day 2: 00:51:20
Outside of Koley Railyard, Koley,
Libor Province,
Republic of Polavia

The lion paced along rail track.

All the thoughts in his head.

Clara. Seeing her wasn't a priority, but....Lyra was.

His daughter.

Getting shot in the neck, he thought about that a lot. But he was lucky enough to have nine lives. Well, as a lion, he was basically just a cat with slightly more than claws, he had teeth. He could rip, tear, pierce, take whoever he wanted.

Not that it was exactly working well for him, but, he had saved Rowan. That was enough for now.



Oksana helped Rowan out as she half-elegantly broomed her way into the door, holding her up as she struggled, burnt out, down on her mana, down on her luck, and about to drop. The Polavian rested her down, peeling out a tonic and grabbing her own first aid kit, the modified batch having a bunch of needles in it, as Rowan stabbed in a cocktail of sugar and liquid-dissolved blueberry-like mana into her vein, using a more typical cotton bud and wipe to patch her bleeding mouth and nose. It would save Silas beating the shit out of her, at least, not having to keep swinging like there was no tomorrow. Speaking of....

As Felix was peeled in, he roared as if by reaction, as hurt as Rowan was in his lion form, this somehow still being better than his other form, which was near death. He appreciated Borys scooping him up, but had little way of showing it, as he slumped across the floor, panting heavily, the sort of groan that sounded like a knell. Rowan got some attention first, of course.

But when Silas started swinging at Felix, he yelled, not an angry roar, but like he'd got his foot caught in a trap. A diffuse, broad, yell. He hadn't interacted with his magic yet.

And he shifted.

Felix switched to his human form, blood pouring out of his lower neck, a weird schlurp sealing up the wound.

The next punch sending him back as the big cat reappeared, the lion's roar back albeit the cuts and couple of bullets he'd taken vanishing.

Before the next punch got his human form again, his gear staying with him through some absolute, critical bullshit, his wound on his neck seemingly sealed.

Before the final punch hit, and the lion returned.

That lion of Felix seemed healed, back to life, as he groaned, peeling a paw back onto floor to stand, not quite as majestic as ever, the coil spring pulling back in...

And the zoomies were there. He immedately went to Rowan, giving her a sniff, as he lept across before Silas got up from sitting on the floor in his tired state, giving him a solid, massive, lick on his neck and back, basically towering over him and wrapping his front legs over his shoulders, like a hug. It was like velcro, and the blood and gore was all but gone. It was like a cat showing love, as he shifted away.

Felix couldn't shift back. Maybe his other self was healing? Felix couldn't make sense of it, but he had a feeling his other self would appreciate some rest right now, as he looked around at the others. Non verbal.

"Okay.....we choosing being a cat? Or we coming back? I am so done with this. Convenient. Sure. But I can't even look into your future. Only that you got us here, and now, we can't even talk to you!" Oksana simply retorted as if she was angry at thin air rather than just Felix, checking over Rowan once more, who was passed out asleep, sitting herself down, checking her pulse, looking across to Borys, as he approached her.

With the lion safely aboard, Borys turned to Oksana, lightly tapping the rangefinder she’d given him with his finger. “Do you want this back? Because if not, I’ll gladly keep it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fucking weird, but really useful.”

Oksana put her hand out and took the rangefinder back.
"That's what everyone says. I appreciate it, but I'd like to hang onto it for now." She added, watching as Silas looked around the empties of the train, and in what was a Christmas miracle in Spring, found one crate that was full.

He slugs his way over and cracks a crate, "hmm don't think they'd miss a bottle huh?" Reaching into his medbag he pulls a wicked looking knife using it to Crack the top, "emm..." and he tips back before offering the bottle around, "might be the only joy we get for awhile." He expound as everyone catches their breath.

"How did you find the only full one?" Oksana asked, as Felix walked over. She was in the right place to take a swig, feeling a brush against her leg, taking the bottle from Silas before Borys could, brushing a shot down.

Felix wanted involvement.

"Oh fuck. Really? You nearly fucking died? Now this?" She added, watching the lion shadow her. He wasn't changing back as readily. Felix groaned, as she realised that the lion was asking for booze. And he didn't seem keen on switching back. Gently swiping an unclawed foot against Oksana's foot, brushing his mane on her. Cats couldn't drink, she thought? Yet the lion rolled over at the Polavian's feet. Oksana knew this from her own cat. But fuck the guy, if he wanted this, then he was getting a bad decision. She poured more than a shot measure into his jaw, Felix moaning out and straight up purring.

This absolutely fucking wasn't weird. Were lions able to drink alcohol? Could their livers even do it? Her cat couldn't, but a half man, half lion? Like, biologically, where the fuck were they? Did Felix know what was going on? So many questions. So, so many questions. Oksana just came out with them.

"Felix, you fucking dipshit, why on earth would a lion want.....fine....did you kill Olygarkov at least? In exchange for....the best thing I'm gonna find this side of catnip? If you shit anywhere, I swear on all the Gods, I'm going to climb in that jaw and rip out your tonsils!" Oksana asked, her vision enough to see the dickhead Polavian from earlier coming into view when she jumped in, but not confirm quite what had gone down. Felix's delightful growl all but confirmed it, literally, licking his lips.

"I'm not even going to ask why you can't change back." Oksana asked, then looking to Borys, wondering if he had a method to get him back. Felix was hurt in both forms, clearly, but he was stuck as a lion right now. Oksana was now wondering if the pisshead had any more great ideas. Silas could punch him, maybe, but she didn't want to hassle the medic. He had earned his vodka, and surprisingly, Oksana didn't care enough to ask the shorter Libolian to smack his compatriot, even if she really wanted to herself.

Borys was making a great beast-master. But unlike a drunk with his favourite cat, this was a bit more extreme in every scale.

Once Felix had been healed and back in human form, Borys pulled out the package from Oksana’s babushka. “Hungry?” He offered.

Felix shifted back in, the height difference putting his head too close, nodding with a smile as he took the sandwich and gulped it down, inhaling the pastrami and cheese sandwich, despite the fact he felt half sick. Actually processing the booze now. He slid the ring off his human-now fingers, pushing it back into Borys's hand. The signet ring, with a fragment of tooth in it. Something before the inevitable.

"Thanks, I'm burnt out, the injury is going to keep...." It was him cut off by involuntarily shifting back, the wound in his neck still hurting a little bit too much. Borys would have seen it heal, but the lion was clearly the more stable of the two states right now. The vodka bottle was put into his hand as he would have looked, and turned to see Oksana letting Felix flicker back.

The ring would have felt weird in Borys's hands. His hearing, night sight, touch would have felt a lot stronger. But it was the last Felix could give for now.

Staying put as a lion was now a bit weird it was involuntary, but the lion seemed to actually break a smile, nuzzling close against Borys, the salty crumbs licked up off the floor, as he stood before him, like a cat that was at least seven foot long. A magnificent golden-red mane, a few cuts across his face, and a belly full of the most succulent cuts of Grandma's sandwiches and Polavian commie-fascists.

It would be hard to talk to him. But if a lion could talk about now, he was appreciating Borys a lot more for that sandwich, as he gave a big stretch, a massive yawn that revealed the mass of teeth, limbs and jaw that an African Lion possessed, and proceeded to leap up onto a wooden crate, a tiny bit above Borys's eye level, curling up and falling asleep, with a gutteral, loud snore that kicked in within the space of about a minute.

Oksana sighed, disappointed, taking the bottle out of Borys's hand before he got too shitfaced, and took a serious swig of the Polavian Standard, wiping her lips, before passing it across to Silas.

Words weren't coming out. Nothing was. They all seemed broken, exhausted, burnt out.

She took a moment to compose herself.

"Your Western movies say this is the bit we all contemplate life. Is it?" Oksana asked Silas, shaking her head, the Druid Witch staggering herself to a bit of floor, and proceeding to dump herself onto the ground, looking to the others, more in general.

"The train takes about six hours. The lines are shitty. But with any luck, we can make it to Novy Jork. Worst case, we dump his ass in a zoo." Oksana remarked, as Felix gutturally moaned somewhat quietly in disapproval, the lion in the corner making his opinions heard, despite being very fast on the way to being as cold out as Rowan was.

"Or, best case, there's a hotel we just need to get to. Should be easy. We just need to get off the train, find somewhere quiet so someone can grab us some civilian clothing, then get to Pavel's. Get papers. Done. End this fucking nightmare. But if they want Rowan, I wonder what we do for her. The Lieutenant Colonel will keep hunting if he wants something. Polavia will not be safe if so. And I can't think or see the fucking future when I'm this tired.....anyway. We should rest." Oksana commented, yawning herself at the end with her word salad, the fact that the team were partially drunk, on a train, after six of the most intense hours of their recent weeks, hunted by a growing number of paramilitaries and special forces, and now, stuck with a fucking lion that didn't seem to want to change back.

She leaned back against the bulkhead, and didn't yet close her eyes, letting others react, talk, say words, before her head drifted back against plywood.

---

The train clattered, the forest through the tiny crack in the door always there, shut now, the clinking of a points change or a rough railway sleeper jolting everything.

The night continued, as the team licked their wounds, Felix asleep, Oksana fading in and out. They should have kept a patrol. But they were all feeling the affects of adrenaline, burnout, wiping through mana, and most importantly of all, being drunk.

Rowan had been passed out a while, and Oksana had slept next to her, head leaning against her collapsed overcoat.

And Rowan was likely to be experiencing something very, very weird. Well, just her at first, then Silas, then Borys....

------=============================///////////////////////////////////////////////////===============---

With this much mana, especially of a chronomancer's kind, Oksana was playing back a memory.

A memory, a dream, a nightmare?

It seemed to tie Rowan in, as Oksana played it back.

Running across that border. Turning and shooting at the wall. As the Polavian looked to her side, seeing Rowan, in her usual garb, looking on.

"Ah. Uhhhh.....yeah, my dreams have a habit of this. Really sorry. We might want to get out of this one." Oksana exclaimed.

This was a lucid, if not outright perverse dream. Nailing perfect headshots sadly came with the worst of time-dilated effects. And as any dream played out, it was the realisation none of this was quite real, but the faint, centre of eye details were.

Rowan, if she looked to her side, the look of Oksana a bit different to what she normally looked like. Younger. Much, much younger. Barely out of being a teenager.

"I have really, really powerful dreams. Side-effect of ketamine, kurwa! This one usually comes back lately....." Oksana simply retorted.....as if it was another Tuesday, seeing Borys asleep by a bit of barbed wire, as she pulled a spare grenade and threw at him, pin unpulled, as if to wake him up, gunfire then erupting as a klaxon went off.

"We need to keep running! That MG is gonna chew us out!" Oksana yelled back at Rowan, as suddenly, the sound of a machine gun opened up, a full alarm going, and it seemed to almost turn inside out. What looked like a portal opened ahead in a ruined house in No Man's Land, as Oksana dived over the concrete block, and shot back with the SVD she'd managed to tack. It was always that. The machine gun stopped as her bullet found mark, and she looked back at Rowan, Borys and Silas.

"Run! I'd head for that exit!" She yelled, as with it, Oksana then sprinted out, across, and out, towards the door, the others phasing through and getting spat out into their own dreams. Or awake.

For others, their dreams might have continued. But for Oksana, the portal was hollow. She kept on running. And going. Until it all went grey, and then....

---

Act Two: Redirected

Part Three: Bottoms Up

Day 2: 05:35:52
Somewhere near Novy Jork
Krumov Province,
Republic of Polavia

Waking up, Oksana was in a cold sweat, as the train clattered along, that dream not being one she'd seen in a while. And while possessing control in a spirit dream, after the intensity of what had just happened, she would rather that didn't happen. Drink, ketamine, seering, exhaustion. The unholy four that could fuck any good witch of the east up.

It turns out when you've got this much mana in you, your dreams pull others in. Why Rowan, Silas and Borys? She wasn't sure. She hoped they'd remain asleep, but Rowan, well, she was that close. She wouldn't brush that off.

The early dawn was yellow lit with gas lamps, as they passed slowly through a trainyard, the speeding up of the train indicating they were moving faster post-yard. They were closer to the capital, that much was for certain.

She rubbed her eyes, seeing lion-Felix snore, bottle of vodka next to him, breaking out in laughter, exhaling hard as she walked across, sitting down and rubbing her hand through his mane and through his top, before looking back to Rowan, setting herself down. She'd likely woken the DSR native up, Oksana putting Rowan's witch hat back on her abdomen, sitting down, sitting by her side, sipping down water from her canteen.

"Morning. I apologise you saw that. It's this weird memory that seems to have come up a lot the more I come here."

Oksana looked to the side, breathing deeply, running her hand into Rowan's, offering the canteen first, letting the Chemical Witch sip down. She offered some electrolytes in her spare hand.

"I escaped Polavia when I was younger. Ran across the border. Shit, sorry. You don't want to hear it. You saw it there. Sort of." Oksana cut herself off, realising, looking across, then back at Felix. She almost, for a half second, showed vulnerability. The Polavian was hard as nails, blunt, but Rowan would feel a third of a lifetime in her hands that had more wear and tear in it than it really should have.

Sliding across her rangefinder, Roxie passed it into her hands.

"So, they want you dead. Makes two of us. So, if you get into a fight again, this might give you an edge. Should allow you to seer into the future a little. Whatever they want you for sounds serious, if it's chemical weapon related. But we shall work it out. Together." Oksana added, passing it across, the vessel held by Borys earlier now in Rowan's hands. Her brutal, blunt, almost comically sharp Slavic tone held no empathy, but it was to the point. It was something Rowan was likely getting used to by now, Roxie's cold, almost leaf-like hand against Rowan's.

"So, did Olygarkov say anything before he died? I don't recognise him. But he looked sleazy before Felix turned him into a pie. So I assume he's one of that fat bastard's cronies." Oksana asked, as in the background, there was a rustling.

Felix shifted, rolling off the crate, and yelping, human form suddenly shifting as he fell away.

"Ahhhhh! Fucking cunt!" Felix added, clutching his side as he rolled over, Oksana about to run up and check he was okay, as he patted himself down, looking around, standing up in a panic.

"Did I do anything stupid last night? Sorry. When I'm hurt, I can't switch as easy. We seem okay though? Plan worked?" Felix spoke matter of factly, as Oksana giggled, shaking her head, almost frisbeeing his hat across to him, as he caught it. "Where are we?" Felix asked, looking to the others, who were now waking up, after their team leader had literally woken up out of bed the wrong way.

From Rowan, who was recovering, to Borys, who was probably waking up considering a hair of the dog, to Silas, who was no doubt, burnt out himself, exhausted from what the fuck he had been brought into.

"Yeah, noted. It fucking worked. Barely." The Polavian's rasp was barely hiding her disdain, but, in a fucked up kind of way, she was glad he was back to normal, and more importantly, away from the PSA and DSR hunting them down, for now. There was actual optimism.

She looked across to Silas, looking around Borys, hand up as if to get attention.

"What does he owe you? Like, what are we saying, how many dollars for your services is it he's seriously in debt to you for?"

DELTΔ HYPER (Anti-Gravity Racing, Cyberpunk/Solarpunk RP)

@Starlance

Monday October 4th, 2094, 09:58
Buenos Aires, Argentina

”The Ranch" (Carrera Condor Formula AG Team headquarters)

”Sorry, was in a meeting.” Bea said in a tone like she expected that to be a bulletproof explanation for the declined call on the back of what happened on track, ”What’s up, Cass?”

The phone dialled back on through, as Cassie sat up, leaning her head against the padded cushion of the AV’s headrest come wall, looking out on the ensuing chaos that was erupting across the Argentine capital. Fuck me. They loved Carrera here. Bad time for a call, but then again, life had a funny way of putting things together, even at this time in the morning. The security team recommended sitting tight in the hotel, and leaving in the morning, when the fans dispersed. They were still going. Even in the morning hours. This was insane.

Cassie realised the gap was growing in what she should have said, taking her eyes off the outside and back into the interior so she could at least focus on the matter at hand, bottle of water in hand.
“Hey, just a quick one really. More speculation, but, I wanted to touch base with you about….well, rumours. Rumours that people were linking me to Carrera Condor, and uhhh….well, you know. And, given current circumstances, I just wanted to check in with you first. I was thinking of ringing Ava after the hit too, but I thought not to stir the pot. Heard things were a bit tense between you two. Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t have…..yeah, sorry. Let me go again.” Cassie didn’t get any of her words out right, as she sighed, sipping water down, alarmingly, not the same person Bea had seen earlier in the season at the Zygon fan zone, or perhaps generally on the grid.

”Take a breath.” Bea chuckled, honestly glad for something to laugh about. ”Or stammer it out into a bucket and I’ll sort it out later.”

“I wanted to see what you thought about those rumours. And what the team’s like, you know. From someone I trust.” Cassie cut it there. Best not to overdo this.

There was absolutely zero chance Cassie was going to believe her if she told her the team’s on an upward trajectory. Less than zero. Absolutely none. ”Why are you asking me about rumors about you, shouldn’t you know if you’re tired of Zygon?” Bea asked, voice a mix of amused and confused.
”As for what the team’s like…” Be almighty not have been smart, but she wasn’t an idiot. ”To me, it’s a team. What’s it like at Zygon so I have a point of reference?”

“Corporate. You seen the ads they ran with my face recently? Or the fact that while we had the best ship for a little while….I still seem to be a foreigner in a team that wants its own to succeed? That paint a picture?” Cassie replied, looking up at the jammer, sat neatly on the wall, a device she’d started asking her agent to start checking with the best cybersecurity specialist she could know. Keep the quantum encryption locked tighter than a duck’s coat in water. She sighed, Bea keeping tight lipped.

“I’m trying to say the rumours might have meat to them. Now, I know that you’re doing some serious stuff at Carrera. You don’t sign Felix Burkhart without wanting to make a challenge to the top three. And as good as Ava is, I know why my agent keeps telling me to consider choices. So yeah. Consider this me telling you openly that we might be team-mates next year, but I need to know, if you’re first, keen, and second, what I’m going into. I’m not asking anyone else, I don’t want to go on a factory tour. I want to ask you first. Unless I’m taking your seat, Bea. I wouldn’t trade mine for yours, if I were you.” Cassie added, beginning to find her confidence getting there to a point.

”I have not seen them, actually. Just thinking about Zygon has been driving me up a bloody wall since Canada.” Bea shared truthfully. It wasn’t a sin that they got caught cheating, it was a sin that they tried. ”If I’m keen? Yeah, absolutely. Have you spoken to Elise?” Once again asking like that was an explanation.

An amused snort carried through the phone when Cassie cautioned against trading seats with her. ”Yea, no, Zygon sounds exactly like the Hellscape I envisioned it to be, pass.”

”Carrera’s not corporate-feeling. Not yet, I fear. CEO just yelled at everyone in the room like León was five, not fifty. I didn’t even know his face before Spa. But the moment they smelled improvement, the suits started talking.” She started with the fresh, bad news. ”But it’s a lot better at the factory. There, the ‘family business’ atmosphere is still mostly holding.
I get the foreigner part, though. That’s something I was really worried about - you’ve seen how insane the locals can be - but that was an empty fear, fortunately. Whether because they’re not as rabid as they sound or if I hit the ground running, that I can’t tell you. And from what I hear Brazil loves you, so you’d already have one foot in the door.”

Cassie laughed, a full belly laugh, leaning back more, probably leaving Bea confused, before she composed herself, clearing her throat.
“Shit…..well, turns out I have worse luck than SuperCat power unit.” Cassie chuckled, still shaking her head, letting it all sink in, the confidence there, the sounds of it Bea having no objection. Or no choice, rather.

“Is that a regular thing for you? The whole, you know, angry CEO thing. We have the same too, but does he mean well at least, or is he just….fuck, how do I say this, incredibly obsessed with selling? I mean, I’m used to that shit from angry Spanish people. You just have to learn how to shout back…..although given my current selection choices, you really want to take advice from me? I’d be like a local if I was a fan. Proper fuck up, Bea. Properly. But, knowing you, you’ll probably fucking send it past me. But you’d blink after what you did in Singapore..” Cassie snickered, sitting up in the AV as it continued on the way towards Ezeiza, the international airport that currently, was checkpointed up below the AV lanes like a border crossing.

She composed her thoughts again, thinking about the foreigner element too. “You’re tanned skin. Basically a gaucho already, if you speak the language, even a little,. Goes a long way. And is far easier, as it turns out, than Korean. They don’t like me relying Earworms much.” Cassie chuckled, reflecting on her own, despite her Scots roots, still having bronze in her pigments, well, the ones that weren’t replaced with artificial skin for her implants.

”I don’t know if ‘Spanish B1’ by race 12 is considered ‘speaking the language.’ ”

“Suppose the team will get their shit together if the results come. But that depends on one person I guess.” Cassie made it obvious who her pick in the team was, as she saw the AV start to come in, queued behind another two on the private landing strips, realising time was running out.

”I don’t know the CEO, I’ve met him twice. The first time, he was practically grovelling at my feet offering a new contract, and now Hurricane Pablo.” Cassie could probably imagine Bea’s shrug through the phone. ”He did try the whole ‘If you can’t perform, people will lose jobs.’ thing on us. Whether you think he cares or it was just emotional blackmail, you’ll have to decide for yourself, I can’t help you there. Maybe a factory tour would help you decide?” Bea added like a drug dealer offering someone ‘just a taste.’

Bea inhaled sharply, forcing herself to ignore mentions of the crash or the comparison to Singapore. ”But you’re right, I’m not taking team selection advice from you. Although I’m glad you have your luck, if you didn’t I’d be out of a job. Or worse, at Zygon.” She chuckled, ”If I wanted an unfeeling robot for a teammate, I’d play the FA 2094 game.”

Cassie giggled, feet up on the centre table, adjusting her elbows in her rest against the window.
“I guess a factory tour would be nice. See it all for myself, you know, see if there’s a nice desk, see if I can rope in some of my old sponsors from Portugal that didn’t want to make the jump into Zygon. And meet Pablo. Classic Spanish CEO tactic. He’ll run it like a family, but that means he’ll throw sandals at you. Just gotta learn how to keep your head off the block and pass them back. And ideally, not pin your team-mate out of a leading position. Bea. Has anyone mentioned it to you yet?” Cassie absolutely took the win out of being wholesome, with a zinger that was aimed sarcastically, knowing Bea could absolutely throw it back, but in this moment, knowing laughter might at least drag her mind away from it, laughing in a way only two people who understood Britain could be sarcastic about it.

Cassie was a fierce, determined pilot, there was no denying that. She would go all out, put it on the line more than some, and in ship to ship, she had the makings of Amy’s talent to just swing from people with ELS when needed. But consistency was lacking. Going from one team, to another, to yet another felt like a symptom of her own nature, yet the circumstances of bad luck, well, that also played a part in never feeling totally comfortable.

“Anyway, don’t think I’m coming in to steal all your thunder. You’ve had a hell of a season as a rookie. You, Paul and Kais are generational. But yeah. Luck runs out, like this weekend. And it comes back. Just have to make do with what you can. It gets better. If I’m thinking of coming over, it’ll be a push for us both. Glad to hear nobody’s totally mental at least. Apart from you. Obviously.” Cassie held an honest tone with just a hint of sarcasm cracking in the end, knowing Bea wanted that title as much as she did. But that mutual respect was there. A willingness to push each other to limit, whatever that limit was, and she saw a little of herself in Bea. More mature than she was at that age.

”Fuck the desk, Cass, have you seen the dorms on the ranch? And I never liked morning runs until I saw that scenery.” Bea briefly went full saleswoman, actually having to pause and lean against the wall to laugh because the sandals comment took her by surprise. And then Cassie brought up the crash again and the laughter died in the blink of an eye. ”Yea, well, if she hasn’t figured out how to safely rejoin after four years of doing this, I can’t help her.” She replied, not a snap but a definite hint of a simmer under the lid.

She spoke up again after a second’s pause. ”You call me ‘mental,’ I say ‘Spice of life.’ ” The humor returned as quickly as it left. ”Let me know once you know when you’re coming over. I’ll trade you fact-checking the sales pitch for an I-owe-you in the future.”

Cassie chuckled, shaking her head, knowing the bitterness was still there. She got on well with Ava herself, not as close as Bea at least, given the age difference. She’d always just been there on the grid. Maybe not the highest performer, but then again, Carrera was never anywhere to be seen. A safe pair of hands, but maybe not much more.

“Eh, you didn’t slap into me in Singapore. That’s the payback. It all sounds lovely, anyway. Sounds like I have a visit after Brasil to check in. Haven’t seen the dorms, but it sounds like I have something to see. Although…..” Cassie added, looking through the window, as the ship slowly approached the deck, the Luso-Scottish pilot having one last thought.

“Mod wise, there might be some complications. Nothing serious, but Zygon loves their proprietary, puts me back to bare basics, bar the optics which were on my pick. I might need to chat about it some other time, just means I need a bit of like for like in the off-season. Your chrome all holding up okay? They look fucking mean, by the way.”

”Just fine, but limbs are the cyberware equivalent of the lever, it’s the oldest thing there is.” Bea shrugged, the racing limbs being the most advanced piece attached to her. ”Consider custom paintjobs part of the deal.” Bea grinned.
Cassie nodded, brushing a bit of hair aside with her own prosthetic, smirking herself.
“Well. I had a guy but limbs change as often as each other race due to……marketing reasons. Good to know. So long as you aren’t filling me with the kind of shit like Amy is. Side note, you probably….well, you guessed she’s a bit fluttery? I dunno. Me and Harrison chatted about it. Seems fucking odd. Like I know you two are friends, and she means well, but yeah, got me scared, and I’ll put anything in me. Like, tell whoever your neuroscientist and augment specialist are, so long as they don’t turn me into Layla or a fucking Pinata, I’m keen, but not whatever menu she is on. Anyway, won’t keep you. I need to run…..alright, I’ll tell my agent to get something arranged, and don’t be a stranger, yeah?” Cassie added, nonchalantly, as the AV landed, the doors split open, and with it, Cassie grabbed her bag and leapt out, the noise of the jet engines suppressed, but still making a little interference.

For a second, Cassie would swear she heard the creaking of Bea squeezing her phone. ”Nevermind, cancel the visit, the more shite you agree to have put in you, the more they’ll try to shove in me.” She hid it with a joke, thanking all the gods she didn’t believe in that Cassie couldn’t see her face. ”See you at or after Brazil.”

“Alright, see ya then!” Cassie replied, the sarcasm taken over the noise, not hearing that slight subtext fully, before disconnecting the call, a group of Zygon staff already on the other end, ushering her inside the private terminal, immediately for a private jet that was connecting her, and a fair chunk of engineers over to Sao Paolo, for tonight.

---

Outro to Buenos Aires

"Well, that is all for Buenos Aires. We're not going away for long, as next week, we're in Sao Paolo for an iconic AG race at the Interlagos circuit, for what will be certainly more nail-biting racing in South America. Until then, bye for now." Aurora's voice led on outro, silky as ever, that Irish tinge ever present.

And cut it was. To a fairly stylish sequence.

Maybe not quite what was in mind. But a ballroom.

The sound of dancing could be heard, as shoes tapped against floor. Tango.

Soundtrack: Georges Bizet - Habanera from 'Carmen Suite No.2'

If there was a moment, as they pirouetted on floor, the dancers moved in sequence.

A couple on a floor. Hands linked.

A couple of ships colliding, both Carrera Condor ships struck.

Kais, pushing through opponents like a knife through butter.

Jen coming through, pushing past Paul, the fight continuing.

The reaction of fans, anger, rage, joy, but fading back to withdrawal.

The feeling of something to come.

The two dancers turning around, as the theme intensified. Crowds roared. People got angry.

But the dance continued, Jenny on the podium, to the crescendo of the classical piece, beaming smile given, flanked by Nora Kelly and Paul Mulder.

---

Formula AG Pilot Group Chat

[Newspaper article image of riots]

Harrison
Yikes, fight club

Ava Villarosa
Shut the fuck up, this is serious.

AStirling
Also yikes

it is, yeah I'm putting something out. This is out of control. This hasn't been this bad since 2091.

Dorian
That is really sad. Shame about it, I put up a post last night on socials. Probably worth a more unified message if you want to reshare, I put one on Instagram?

Astrid
You still use Instagram?

@Amy Stirling 2091? That was a bad fucking year. One of my engineers got hurt :(

Dorian
@Astrid

One day you'll just be old and an alcoholic and because you're not French, it looks worse

Ben Hale
*ohhhhhh shiiiiit*

@Dorian you all wear berets, eat baguettes and have stripy shirts, don't lie

Flo Mason
Yeah that's a violation

I've shared it @Dorian, you're like the elder statesman!

Dorian
All good, happy to help :)

[photo of an actual baguette with ham, cheese and salad]

Harrison
Me and Cassie too!

@Dorian you fucking sick cunt, owning it lmao

Ben Hale
You two dating?

@Dorian yeah fair enough that looks filling ngl

Cassie Neves
@Ben Hale We saw the recent episode of Delta Hyper, you do not get a say

Astrid
You guys are so mean to me

Wedge
Yet somehow everyone agrees we should be horrid to Astrid

Jen
You guys would catch fewer bullets in the riot if you stopped chatting shit

Art stuff in Brazil looks fun. Have fun, whoever Delta Hyper decided was a needed victim!

Kofi
It does look fun. Alexis Mayer is a cool artist. She sprayed a load of stuff in Accra for a project we did there to regenerate slums into an urban forest. She's like Banksy but with way more colourful paint. I have a lot of time for her. I love Brazil, such good nightlife. You young lot should enjoy it!

Harrison
Estrela is a really good night out- mostly trance. VIP there is good on Sunday nights :)

Astrid
@Kofi You remember who Banksy is?

Amy
@Astrid this is why you get bullied, stop getting pissed up and hurtful ;)

---

SAMBA /// SENNA /// LAGOS

Soundtrack: Jungle- Talk About It



Cut to a pitlane, with the iconic start straight of Interlagos.

The outlook of grey skies, with sunshine breaking through on the horizon.

The noise of kids playing.

As if to almost reiterate, that despite nearly a century, in the Favela, the only thing that changed was the condition of the houses into advanced polymer, made permenent yet heaped in a mess on a steep hillside. Trees, greenery, the actual sound of birdsong, chirping loudly, cutting to a favela.

Poverty eliminated, but community maintained. A place that couldn't be imagined 70 years ago, the grit still between.

Maybe this was compromise.

But as the ball bounced off the wall and the kid wacked it with a whipped kick into the holographic net, and yelled, jumping off the side of a painted house, it was perhaps the depiction of it.

As the camera panned up to that depiction of Senna on street art, on a massive mural on the side of a four-storey structure with his face, stepped in green and yellow.

And a voice.

“And suddenly I realized that I was no longer driving the car consciously. I was driving it by a kind of instinct, only I was in a different dimension.”

Senna.

And cutting into Sao Paolo. A throwback, history of Senna rushing through the circuit unable to shift gears, throwing the car around corners on clutch, desperate, trying to hold onto first place.

The fear, the heartbeat, the scream of a turbocharged V8 fading into a naturally aspirated one.

"Is that Glock?" The pass on the Toyota by Hamilton on the last corner of the last race, in 2008.

The pounding of Lewis Hamilton's fist.

Rain. Hurling rain creating a transition.

Starcross on the charge, engine screaming, passing Lindstrom, the 5-cylinder scream of the Red Bull and her legendary fight here in the drizzle, the drying circuit forcing the aero-fed F1 cars into floor. Rolling a kerb, over as the footage faded, flipping upside down into a dark room.

The massive holographic and LED lighting illuminating behind, popping with colour, settling on a bright, pearlescent yellow.

And to the sight of Cassie Neves, sitting atop a Zygon ship with a specialist livery, the red and blue fading into a very un-Zygon like scheme of dark blue, with green pasteled across the ship.

"Bem-vindo ao Brasil."

This was a place of contrasts. But if anyone thought Brazil and Argentina were similar, instantly, the setting felt established that this was anything but.

---

DELTΔ HYPER

Episode Fifteen: The Art of Racing

---

Thursday 5th October, 2094
Cantinho do Céu, São Paulo, Brazil
1000 BRT

Tag the Favela

Soundtrack: Barbatuques- Baiana (CloZee Remix)

With the crew in Sao Paolo, unlike Buenos Aires where it felt like the city was a faraway, messy, abstract, just enough security had been put in place out of the view of the teams to actually engage. The humidity hit in the same way as Singapore, but being slightly higher than the ocean, it seemed to taper off with any gust of wind- and being more cloudy, didn't come with also getting sunburnt. The tint almost felt like it was gold, sun poking past powerlines and satellite internet dishes.

This was a place you could absolutely party in, because it screamed cool. The colourful buildings said that.

Sao Paolo was perhaps an alternative vision of future to New Hilo's utopian, yet isolationist Shangri-La- to Singapore's ruthlessly clean, controlling city- and even perhaps, the brutalist, concrete jungle of Buenos Aires that by design, kept the teams out by being so dangerous, so punk, so at the forefront of the new gold rush of lithium and rare earths.

It wasn't some guiding vision, but a few good feelings steering a city's chaos into one direction. Colour. And a lot of art.



Brazil seemed to let people in, in terms of actually engaging with what it had to offer. It was colourful, almost parsing complete creative, total freedom, the shacks of metal replaced by polymer, modern, rust-proof composites that while stacked, felt solidified, permanent. A lot of changes and reform had brought a heady mix of capital, co-operative and a new mindset. Curtiba-styled urban planning made it feel dense but easy to get around with public transport that didn't pander to environmentalists, but realists with a creative mindset- and it felt like a ton was going on, with some of the world's best nightclubs, artists melding with the newly rewilded Amazon and forests between Sao Paolo and Rio. Cities were dense, it felt heaving, yet somehow, not alien. Dangerous, gritty, yet in the best kind of way. The kind of place where good food was on any corner, from anywhere, and most of all, the Brazilian focus on their creative economy created an ocean of kids dreaming of shaping their world into something more than bland. Even in relative loose assembly, the Oscar Niemeyer-like vision of the future felt like it could be seen, skyscrapers not all made of glass but insanely complex concrete, polymer and almost wooden structure-like buildings. It was organic, it felt like a claw of nature stood out of Sao Paolo's core, and the Favelas, as vintage as they were, now felt like a future village looking onto it.

Cantinho do Céu was one such perfect example- communities that lived here were lifted out of poverty not by having their entire livelyhoods uprooted, but shacks improved into permanent stacks that didn't look like they would fall apart in a Category 4 hurricane, utilities put in, tarmac roads between the blocks of the ramshackle slum-like Favela, and now, it felt like somewhere liveable. Food and grocery markets were nearby, it felt like for most, who had decades before lived in the worst of the Water Wars and the ecological crisis that ravaged Brazil especially hard, had now come back to normality. Crime had been driven out through a community-led approach, and while the worst horrors were still hitting hard, it didn't feel like the grit or cyberpunk-ish danger, terror and fear that pilots would stare at from afar. Some crime, sure, but it felt enough to be diverse and creative. A place where you were more likely to find a creative cafe than a coke dealer.



In many places, the advent of Universal Basics left people focussed on reclaiming the land, rewilding, or new, bold engineering challenges beyond earth. A dichotomy. The residents of this favela decided every single exterior surface was an artform and that was their mission, and in itself, Sao Paolo and Rio had an economy from it. Graffiti gave way to professional artists. And suddenly, it was covered. From lions to stars and moonscapes, every single corner, stairset, wall, surface that wasn't driven on (and many that were) in this former slum was now a depiction of something, a message, a purpose, a story, a place. Like an art gallery that sold incredibly good bananas. Favela stopped being such a dirty word, it just felt like the description of what high density, hillside, unplanned housing made permanent with modern utilities felt like now.

There was always a bit of grit. The favelas were always terrifying, but instead of degenerating, they now seemed to be more full of life, colour, feeling than ever before. There was community here, a flawed one maybe, but perhaps they seemed more content, no surveillance state, nor any rejection of the outside. People here knew how to balance, and there wasn't a chase after money, sustainability, but a weird blend of old with new. Perhaps for Delta Hyper, this Favela was selected as one that was sanitised enough, beyond where absolute chaos was always encroaching. After Buenos Aires, scrubbed out of the camera, the security contingent was at least a platoon's worth of local police, bolstered by teams bringing their own security. The residents were fucked off about this arrangement, but then again, a group of local artists had been brought in by Delta Hyper to help on their intro segment.

Inspired by that visual as they had been driven in as part of a convoy, the rest was on foot where Aurora led Paul, Bea, Kais, Harrison, Cassie and Kofi up through stairs, into what was a football pitch on concrete, with a load of whitewashed walls, turning to face them and camera drone, walking past another artwork, a famous copy.



"Well, Welcome to Brazil! In places like these, some of the best footballers, and even pilots come through, driven by nothing but creativity and we thought we'd return the favour by bringing you all here. Alexis, would you like to introduce yourself?" Aurora broadly swept her hand out, as the dark-skinned, afro-having Brazilian walked out, glasses taken off.

"Hey, I'm Alexis Mayer, I'm here to show you a bit about our art. As you can see, we love racing, and our God, is Senna from over there, so you are among the holy!" Alexis pointed to the mural from earlier, from the intro, laughing richly as she took the crew across to a table, where at least four-dozen spray cans sat as well as some very fancy looking acrylics that would add pearlescent and a kind of holographic pop to them once completed (like a really weird laquer), with some respirators already set up there too. As they sorted themselves, Alexis was looking across to them once more, in a smooth jump cut after introductions.

"My question is, how will you leave your mark, like Senna on that wall? And well....we know one of you is an artist!" Alexis chuckled, Aurora joining as the camera picked up Bea's arms and legs, not hiding any of it. Alexis's team turned up, a few more artists, many of whom lived here. It wouldn't be a shock if one of them was the willing occupant of the house getting sprayed, the white walls illustrating this might not be the first time a tag was done on it.

With it, each had a canvas on the wall to paint.

Their own story. Their own mark on a Favela in Brazil. And as some teenagers started playing football in the background, the montage would continue.

This was a story in literal spray paint. Their story. Whatever they wanted, abstract, detailed, whatever it would be. Left as a mark, no matter how poorly they painted.

Harrison left a few markers, that of a red bird with a fire-laden stick in its mouth, the firehawk, his nickname, personal logo, and affiliation to his indigenous roots.

Kofi's being that of a construed lion, perhaps his throwback to his own sanctuary work in South Africa, the kind Kais had seen.

And Cassie? Well, she wasn't that amazing. She struggled a bit, struggling for creativity, ideas, being helped by one of the members of Alexis's team to try and get her image of something more abstract. A sun rising over a beach? Or something else?

---

Round 15 of Formula AG
Friday 6th October, 2094
Practice Day
Autódromo José Carlos Pace, Interlagos, São Paulo, Brazil
São Paulo AGP
1400 BRT

Delta Hyper Interviews

The backdrop of Sao Paolo was in the background, the architecturally creative skyline contrasting with the traditional, classic circuit.

In the black-walled room of the Delta Hyper interview room, Aurora's voice was as ever, present.

"Six races to go, Bea, and coming out of a rough weekend in Buenos Aires. The question on everyone's lips is, what do we see Beatrix Ward do from here? We've seen some big lows, big highs, what would you say your feeling is going into Brazil?"

"Paul, we're in sunny Brazil, and your P2 is certainly something. How are you feeling about putting it back on pole again, keeping your streak of podiums going?"

"Kais, we've seen Al-Saqr adapt as the season break has passed, and there's lots of speculation about the mid season change for the ever-loved Layla Al-Nadir being replaced by Hamid Atlassi. Do you think the fans are confident that Hamid is the right replacement for her?"

Dispatch: Welcome to SDN!

Talking Frank*

Lightning Girl

"Just an umbrakinetic. Would you have preferred a vampire?"

"And for the record, I had to quit dealing," he huffs. Phoenix Program paid well, at least, but he made more dealing drugs with Red Ring, "They wouldn't let me in unless I did." He doesn't move back, but the corner's shadows seem to catch up to him; a demonstration of his power, albeit a simple one. Also, he didn't like the stale office lights.

"Prefer not having teeth in me, thanks!" Lightning Girl awkwardly chirped, watching as the shadow followed. "Cool though." She commented on the shadow not the words, correcting herself awkwardly. "Not the drug dealing bit though! Maybe not that bit. Drugs are...bad? But hey. You're here now, to fight crime, and I'm sure we'll be sound doing it." She added, confident as ever, though her comment on his state was not one she expected to see going.

Hiding addiction was a cue that even Sophie could pick up on, replacing one bad thing with another. He was stress-eating Cheetos like his life was dependent on it, after her question about being alright. He was far more candid than she expected.

"No." It comes out as a whisper. His helmet comes on immediately after, his voice now strange and metallic due to the voice changer he installed. "Do you have any more Cheetos?"

Pulling back from substance was like that. Lacking electricity in her didn't have the same effect, but fuck, if she didn't half understand what it was like to feel stripped down to feeling a bit more normal. She could zap everything out of her, and at that point, if she wasn't chain-drinking Red Bulls, she wasn't alive. At least she could feel human touch at that point without passing out like some diabetic.

Not that it compared. But she almost wanted to laugh, giggle like she was at a funeral, before realising she should probably stop looking dumb and answer. It was that inappropriate laughter internally from his last sentence. She empathised completely on the former. Saw it as probably why he was here. And recovering would take help, to get him clean.

This was serious. She had to tell herself that again. 'Don't make the guy who got high on his own supply feel like shit'. Was that a Biggie Smalls lyric? Something like that. Shit, say something!

".....not....really?" Lightning Girl replied, shrugging, peeking past his bulky armour, realising the vending machines that he had gotten the Cheetos from seemed to have run out too.

"Look, we can probably sort something on first break. Some crisps. Wait, you guys call it chips. I need to get used to that. They'll be somewhere." She added in her usual transatlantic tone, turning around on foot as James came through, bringing mugs back, the shorter red haired office worker addressing Eclipse, not Sophie...

"Eclipse, just the man I was looking for. I'm James, from the Hero Development team. You've got an induction on Shadows in the Workplace later on that you're assigned to. Health and Safety thing. It's crap, I know, but we tick boxes here at SDN so you get paid, people don't trip over eldrich darkness, and so on. Come see me when you get a break on deployment and I'll get you through it so we keep HR happy. I'll be about on comms if you've got questions." He seemed almost effortless as he walked on by, projecting neither too much confidence, nor too much American cockiness. James just seemed to be dry, and unlike Sophie, perhaps on the same level of energy as him. Wanting to get him through it, despite the bullshit of it, rather than actually selling it. He got that they had no interest. He just needed compliance, because with Phoenix Programme, he knew that was at least enough to keep them happy.

And with it, James was back and gone, Sophie watching on as his brother put the mugs in the wash, before heading back across to his desk another way.

"You get used to him. Real dork. Means well, generally." She felt awkward speaking ill of her brother, but hey, it wasn't wrong....right?

(*A pun on an British drugs campaign.)

---

Golden Hour, Fifteen Hours Ago

It felt strange sitting on a pylon. James had long since overcome his fear of heights, because when Sophie decided she had a good spot for them to sit, he'd usually take her up on the option. He was squishy, mortal, and had every right to be terrified. But when Sophie was strong enough to carry him, well, as her brother, he didn't have a say. He'd broke his leg, twice, actually, being dropped, and had a couple of times of being shocked badly. Hence the almost bicep-length rubber gloves that Sophie kept on, as a precaution.

But he was comfortable now at least. And without friends, family was all he had here. James could sit in the bar and drink on a lonely Sunday night, or have spent the day hiking, but he spent it instead unloading the rest of his crap from the U-Haul he'd returned. He was getting good at moving all his shit, once more, and she wasn't taking no for an answer to give him something else to do. She always knew how to get him away from the bullshit when it was too much.

So it was unusual they were out here. But since James was a new arrival to LA, well, Lightning Girl thought it was best to show him the dusk, on the lone pylon that wove its way down into a canyon above the hills that led to the San Gabriel Mountains. The city sprawled, a haze of white light in the distance of the skyscrapers that made up DTLA. The two sat on the strut of the pylon, James in his casual t-shirt and jeans, Lightning Girl still in costume.

"Why here, Soph?" James asked, the conversation being quiet for a little while as they both took it in. The entirety of LA before them, glowing lights, the wrong side of the Hollywood sign yet the city of filmstars, palm trees and golden sun that never let up.

It couldn't be possibly more different to Manchester.

Lightning Girl pulled her mask away from her face, revealing the pale, rosy skin of James's sister, cape fluttering a little against the metal, spandex and cordura squishing on steel.

"Seriously? You don't think the view is mad? I mean it isn't the Shard, or Snowdon at sunrise but...." She candidly commented, James interrupting.

"Nah, view's good, what I mean is, moving to LA? Generally, why did you go for it? I mean, you always talked America, but here? San Fran or New York didn't tempt you?"

"Cos it's fun? And I mean, the sunshine. It's so good. Feels healing already." She sighed, tapping down her skin to show, before breaking into something else. "It's like that song, Shot for the spot at the top, a girl like me, would you believe I'm in Los Angеles?" She sang slightly off tune in a higher pitch from the Wolf Alice song that James knew was her favourite, both chuckling, taking in the quiet for a moment. "I guess I'm asking that question too given....how it all went down." Sophie added, the reality of Claremont different to that of DTLA. And something else that had happened in the previous week.

James sighed, looking on at the distance, then back to Sophie's worried face.

"You got this. Don't think about it too much. Each day's a new beginning, no matter how bad you mess up, yeah?" He made that reply in regards to the recent events, bridging the gap.

The silence continued, before Sophie broke it, herself staring into abyss.

"Thanks." Sophie tried not to put too much voltage into the tower, knowing it would taze James off it if she let that control go. It wasn't just thinking about how things went to shit with those two heroes. It was wondering if teams weren't for her, try as she might.

Sophie kept quiet still, both of them taking that view and silence on, almost letting herself back down to her more natural, slightly more shy self. James looked right back to her again, thinking through a more pertinent question that slotted itself into his mind whilst gazing in at one of the highways.

"Another thing I guess....how are we going to deal with it in the office, day by day? I mean, it's a poor secret in management. Heroes, or Phoenix Programme find out, it gets messy. Sticky because they think I'm with you now I'm here and not just temporary." His query was one he remembered asking ages ago, but it wasn't that well established. Especially now James seemed to be staying put.

"We'll work it out. Brits abroad happen a lot. And I mean, they'll think it's a red herring. Or something. I dunno. We'll see." Sophie replied, her own response caught in her own tongue, able to be more Anglicised with him. The silence continued a little longer, before she turned to him, breathing out, reflecting back his question from earlier, and perhaps, back to what he'd projected.

"Why are you here, James?" The question felt open, loaded, the bullet in the chamber. "I mean, I know you said there was a much better link to the network. But Claremont's not a mess. You're here because of me, aren't you?" Obvious question, yet Sophie, like James, hadn't really gotten to the bottom of it from earlier. Just that it was a thing, short notice, now here they were, top of pylon, car sorted, U-Haul empty, siblings on the fringe of LA.

The redhead sighed, taking a moment.

"Not the weather, sunshine, or traffic, I guess. That all sucks. Less than Baltimore at least. Fuck that." He quipped, as they both laughed shaking his head, looking out at the bright city lights, then back to Sophie. "Been on the road constantly. In and out of rented accommodation. Never knowing when I might get some security. So, when you said you were here...I guess I took a shot at it. Try and make something of this city. Even if I'm hating it so far." James candidly said, Sophie laughing, wrapping an arm (rubber coated) around him, grinning.

"Yeah, that's what everyone thinks. It's like Paris Syndrome!" Sophie seemed to have an actual moment of insight, which even took the more scholarly James by surprise. The phenomenon seemed to be any cultural shock to someone new to LA, especially the grimier parts that the lenses focussed on Hollywood never showed.

His retort was blunt. "What?"

"You know, you go to Paris, and it's shit, no Eiffel Tower, no beautiful streets, just lots of crime? But behind it....it's still the city of lights! All lit up, so yeah, there's that!" She reiterated with a bit more confidence, hoping James would catch on the meaning, James shaking his head as if he didn't entirely follow the analogy.

"Oh yeah. Except Paris actually has public transport, nice streets, good museums, you know, actual stuff people like for liveability? And here there's.....big hills and endless suburbia? At least it pays." James sarcastically remarked, as Sophie admitted that point for a non-super, beating traffic, that was true.

"Right. Yeah, I suppose. Well, here it is. Our slice of the San Fernando Valley. It'll grow on you. Find you somewhere to live. Maybe even someone to anchor you down, you know, someone like Pom Pom might have a thing for geeks like you." Sophie smiled dripping in sarcasm, as the two laughed.

"Yeah, and you someone proper too!" It was a reference that James was making, the heroine clapping back.

"What do you mean by that?" Sophie asked, as James turned, cocky smile on face.

"Well, I am only, just out here, saying, you know, better decisions could be made. You slept with fucking Lioncub when we were in Camden, Lioncub, you fucking absolute frea..."

She gave him a static shock as they both giggled, one very drunk night that James would never let Sophie forget, given a shapeshifting minotaur-like super was the last person he would have imagined Lightning Girl being caught with. As disgusting as that was, they had long since transcended how awkward life was and appreciated their honesty, even back together again. Maybe that was why they were here. It had been a long time since Sophie had James in his ear in London and Manchester.

"Hey, I was drunk. And.....yeah. You're right. Always got my back. Appreciate you being here, James. Even to give me shit. Nobody does that here." Sophie added, as James chuckled, shrugging his shoulders.

"No, nobody does yet. New team might...but hey. You get to be your perfect version of you if that's what you wanted here. Live your perfect life and all that...." James insinuated on the end, like it was from an ad, as they both chuckled, the laughter dying down to them both looking to the horizon, once more. Silence for a few minutes.

Soundtrack: Night Tapes - Projections

"Yeah. Well. Shall we?" It felt about naturally right for both of them, the red-haired older sibling breaking the silence, the white-haired younger of the two nodding in reply.

With it, Sophie stood on the bit of pylon she was previously sitting on, mask back on, the strap disappearing behind a ocean of recently postured white hair that flowed elegantly as a mane despite what static normally did to something like that. She effortlessly stepped into the abyss, and whilst still using the static to keep her levitating, drew power from the three-phase power supply of the line. Lightning Girl's eyes beamed white for a moment, as she didn't allow herself too much juice, not before bed, grinning wildly anyway at James.

"Soph, you aren't quite the same on this American electricity. You seem to talk even more shit than usual. And be getting fatter!" James disarmed her with that, as Lightning Girl giggled and broke laughing (the gains in the gym likely also from the insane creatine she'd gotten her hands on that they banned in the UK), rubber gloves back on after that snack of a leech, easily sinking down to where he was.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, you're fucking lucky I'm not leaving you here! I'm hitting the gym early tomorrow, so you're right, let's get going." Peeling James into arms, she gave a simple leap, and like that, was away, picking up pace and taking a moment to enjoy it all.

Drink it in. Flying away from the lights, away from all that was down there, all the hubub of heroes in DTLA and probably the night shift of Claremont's weekend squad, the insanity that was Compton and Long Beach, and the recent fires in Torrance. Wrong way for now, but she'd go the other direction soon enough, she hoped. She needed sleep before a big day tomorrow going out doing what she did best.

DELTΔ HYPER (Anti-Gravity Racing, Cyberpunk/Solarpunk RP)

Foreshadowing

Sitting in the interview room. Peter Thatcher, polo shirt as ever, legs crossed over, was centre of frame.

"Did you expect what happened next on race day?" Aurora asked a simple, yet straight to the point question. Editing had played one hell of a blinder here.

"Hah. Rushing to the airport after wasn't in the plan. I guess you're here for drama. In my years....haven't seen a right balls up like that." Peter replied in his sarcastic, laconic style of plain Irish speaking.

---

Race Day
Sunday 1st October, 2094
Autodromo de Buenos Aires, Argentina
1730 ART

The Sharp Edge of Carbon

Soundtrack: Metrik- Fall To The Dust

All ships sat on track, the crowd to capacity, and the sun beginning to come down, the race's end set to time with the sunset. The floodlights were on, the horizon was a hazy gold, the track's design thankfully meaning that the sunset wouldn't blind or overwhelm the ships on track.

"Well, we're watching the ships get ready, final checks take place, and the fans go wild with noise since at least two hours ago, two pilots in particular represented in the crowd. Rosie, it seems like a right mix up in qualifying. Argentina rewards ships and pilots that are smooth, can Carrera make it work here?" Rory asked, as Rosie chirped up, the VT cutting to them both gearing up and clambering into their ships on the grid.

"Well, up until now, we know that Ava Villarosa and Beatrix Ward were inseparable, always in socials together. The divide that has hung like a rumour since Singapore has been never louder than. They're both together in P3 and P4, and with the crowd going wild for those two in particular, already dozens of flares having to be caught out, they are going to be favourites in every corner. Tensions are high, but they both thrive on that. Anything can happen, Beatrix is unpredictable and has a ship that was inching away from first, while Ava is likely to be catching up in her team-mate's confidence."

"And what about Lowry, do you think she has what it takes to convert that pole into a win today?"

"Well, that Silver Apex ship seems so inconsistent between the two pilots, but it's clear Jenny isn't making the same mistakes that Hart did earlier in the season. She's clearly adapted, moved into those new mods like a duck to water, and is proving her performance in the old Fitzroy ship isn't a fluke. Is today finally the moment she converts it? We'll have to see."

"Certainly, with her team-mate's less than stellar qualifying, Peter Thatcher will be hoping for a result. Talk about Paul Mulder too, well, that adds something to the mix. With him up in P2? What a story he has had, finding his feet after a shaky few races. Some say that he just found something, and it's clearly he's much happier taking more risks. His father's style always blended flair with absolute precision.

"Well, given the story of Valkyrie, I think they are finally beginning to find roots in a pilot that much of the grid were scouting. Next to Beatrix Ward, I wonder how they will fight it out....and the marshalls are away, okay, looks like the start sequence is ready. You're watching the Argentine AGP, and myself, Rosie Appleyard and Rory Andrews. We welcome you to what will certainly be. With one of the most advanced tracks on the grid, with the skyline of one of South America's biggest cities in the background, we are at the home of Carrera Condor, and the crowd are roaring for two pilots in particular. Who will take the win? Stay tuned, as we prepare to go green...."

---

Ava Villarosa

Four. Three. Two. One.

The start was chaotic.

Ava took Bea early on, upsetting the rematch of Paul and Bea fairly fast, as Bea managed to follow in Ava's wake, the two actually managing to get Paul on Lap 1, then Jen on Lap 2, exploiting an error that put Paul right behind the Carrera couple. Paul's start hadn't been stellar, but he was making it up.

A dream start, literally, you could not write better.

But Ava was in P1. And lap after lap going by, this was something new. She could actually hear the crowd outside the ship. For the first time ever, she was in a position to actually do something that nobody else could have dreamed of at the end of the season. Like a British pilot winning at Silverstone, or Paul at Spa, this was a screaming pitch that seemed to shake the glass of the banking more than the ship's latchings did.

"Ava, defences off and set to neural on ELS, Bea will be in a good spot to keep Mulder off us, copy?" Rey's voice came through, deflating that hope.

"Negative, she's suckering off me, she's going for a pass, not hold! This early on, we're going to burn up time fighting each other!" Ava replied, straight to Rey with that answer.

"Ava, Bea is faster than you in Sector 3..."

"Understood, because she's trying to fucking leech energy off me! Tell her to stop and point it backwards before Mulder and Lowry get us, stealing it from me is gonna cost us! Mierda, make a decision!"

"Copy, Ava. We'll look into it." Rey added, the gap of silence too long as Ava filled it going through the Start Straight again, seeing Bea come closer and closer, but losing time at the first complex.

"Well, she's losing time out of Turns 1 and 2 trying to snatch ELS, I need her to focus on defending behind me, not stealing from me, we are both going to lose time if we don't! If she has the pace, she needs to exceed my times outside ELS deltas, like we agreed, how many times to I have to say it!"

"Understood, we will ask." Rey turned to Alonso, chatting to him, the response coming from the Spaniard TP as he overrode Rey and Alistair.

"Beatrix, we need you to hold off ELS leech from Ava and go into neural, build up charge, let's build a full battery before we do anything. We can talk about overtakes, but you need to be patient and we need to time this, priority is holding back Mulder. Let's play fair, we'll make a switch when needed. We need to protect this advantage, confirm?" Alonso butted in past Alistair, overriding, switching to Ava's line.

"Ava, we're going to switch you in two laps if you cannot improve the gap, stay in attack. When ordered, switch to neutral and allow pass. Confirm?"

The message went unanswered. Ava's pace pricked up. Not for one lap, or two, but for another five. She was dumping more ELS as if to spite Alonso, and Bea, in full attack. To say "I'm not giving this up". A point because she was in lead, she'd hold, and Bea would have to put the pieces together. Bea in the moment would see it as total, complete bullshit. Ava was just doing what she considered needed to break away, the pace would sort itself out, and Bea would have to follow Ava's choice of strategy. This wasn't normal Ava, the strategic, careful, concise. This was her deciding to make a principled point. She wasn't being told to let someone go, she was taking her initiative this time, and was forcing Bea to fight Paul for longer than both would have wanted. It would have been dicey, both would have been tense enough....Ava had effectively left her team-mate in the shit.

Yet one small mistake out of Turn 6 from Ava later after making a decent dent into that gap and absolutely screwing Bea, suddenly, they were all three batched extremely close. This would have probably been the point to switch them, Rey waiting for the straight as Alonso gestured at the display in the pit wall. Bea had the pace, but was wasting her time fighting with Paul. But Ava hadn't heard the order yet. Bea hadn't either. Paul must have sat there wondering why the hell he was stuck in traffic, between what should have been an incredibly simple decision to keep the Belgian lion away.

Ava and Bea led, with Paul right behind, Jenny right behind him. It was a fight Carrera could win, but they had to play chess, and make a decision. Someone had to come second. Someone had to drop back and defend, using ELS to leech and force both Southern Cross's and Silver Apex's strategy teams into deciding if they were going to send, or keep behind. A 1st place and 2nd/3rd were not to be scoffed at, not when Zygon was competitive here- ensuring one of them could run away and win and the points haul would close the gap to Zygon at what was in theory, one of their better tracks. And in Argentina? That would be bliss. In that livery too, that blue and white flag replacing the black among the rainbow making for a real homage to the new Latin world.

But who would want to give up the ultimate race for an underdog team, their factory in view?

The argument, and breakage in the team to reinforce their mindsets had gone the other way. Instead of driving the pilots forwards, in the moment they needed to work together, they weren't interested.

Ava didn't feel inclined to give up.

There was blood because for the first time, Ava had the chance to make history. A Latin American winning in Argentina, that would be spectacular. The crowd absolutely were going haywire, massive Chilean flags in grandstands reaffirming that point. The Huasa, the former Ace turned cold pilot was never tested by first place. She had her strategy, and she was sticking to it.

Yet Bea had made the unfortunate mistake of making a different kind of push, acting on impulse from Ava taking a wider line. It was a rushed move in Turn 5, at full tilt, Ava partly to blame for holding too broad a line, Bea partly to blame for forcing the issue. Misinterpretation would be the common way of looking at it. Not through their lenses.

If you were eating popcorn, right now you'd choke.

The two ships clattered, and flung off the track and into repulsors, Bea's ship in particular fluttering twice over into the top bank and barely missing a massive crash with Paul, anchoring itself into one of the arrays, Ava's going low and in front of a spectator stand, skidding to a halt in the magnetic-enabled runoff area. Immediate red flag. The crowd, screaming and cheering, went dead silent.

What words were there?

Ava peeled out of the canopy, seeing Bea, so angry, so livid, so unbelievably pissed, every sinew in her body had to have her pull away once she'd seen Bea was pulling her own canopy open. Not to do anything stupid.

The noise was white, almost feint, like she'd been concussed, but instead, it was just the withdrawal of every single feeling she could manifest in her prefrontal cortex dumping out of her like a brick from a skyscraper. A medic came across but Ava kept walking, pushing them away. Just kept going, refusing anything. Helmet in hands, teeth grinding, forehead and cheeks pale like blood sucked out of them and away. By the time she was in the pit box, having walked the entire way, the white, blue and red helmet was out of her hands and hurled into a screen, no words leaving Ava bar an incomprehensible shriek. And tears pouring like a fountain in a way that.....for far to long, hadn't. She hadn't cried since she hurt like hell in physical training with her new prosthetic legs. Everything else was a footnote. But this broke, tortured, and grafted her.

There was a fighter pilot who was surgical, who would have forgiven, who would have let go. But even Leon's voice didn't stop her. She just didn't want to fucking exist. Not here. She knew she'd fucked up. But so had everything else.

The crowd didn't know how to react. They weren't sure what to even do. It was like watching Argentina get hit 5-0 in football. Tears, dejection, almost like they'd all felt Ava's out of body hurt. They weren't even angry. They were just lost.

---

Retaking Ground

Back again. Jenny took a strong sip of electrolyte, before the canopy snapped shut again, all systems active, no damage beyond scratches of carbon from the Carrera Ships leaving a streak of white and blue along one of the sides of the ship.

Four. Three. Two. One.

It was fast. Instant, the jolt in the back of the seat, but Cal had come up with a firm strategy for Jen to use, and made no bones about it. With all this tension, it was time to push, and push hard. Make a statement.

Jenny got back ahead of Paul at the race restart, taking advantage of his perhaps willingness to calm it down after that massive hit, to just scoop forwards.

And she didn't leave his front view, staying a second ahead but never being caught up, expertly keeping ELS on to not make the same mistake Nora did in Singapore, her game much simpler. Further back, the grid shuffled as a few other ships crashed out, including Kovalenko (through an error out of the last chicane), and Wedgewood suffering an engine fault in the dying laps of the race, retiring the ship rather than risk any further damage.

"We're holding nice, let's keep here." Cal called into Jenny's ears, as she zipped through that last chicane, one more lap to go. Paul had put pressure on. But she knew how to put the ship to block, and remain consistently up where it mattered, and in a counter to any strategy the Belgian had.

Lap after lap had come, but in an anti-climactic way, where she'd started was where she ended.

With the chequered flag, Jenny grinned.

"Holy crap! That was amazing! Wow! Thank you for your trust, support, P1 is just mad! Cannot believe it" Jen absolutely beamed, hands up in air, the crowd going mild, throughly whelmed as their adrenaline had zapped out in the boring second half of the race and watching a British pilot win. Some did cheer though acknowledging it, but the tears of joy Jen had were contrasted with the facepaint being turned to black on most Carrera fans. At least it wasn't Stirling. If it was, they would have probably started a riot. The ones that had decided to, thanks to the enhanced security presence, were removed fast and the crowd control felt more and more like a tar keg that was being doused in water. A lot of people left fast. The circuit had ran out of booze. Cry for me, Argentina, it felt like Carrera had said.

But Jen was on cloud nine. Every loss meant a win somewhere else, and well, she had gotten her first.

"Well done, Jenny, that was a showstopper, and P1! Well done, bring it on home!" Cal replied, finally having something to cheer for.

"Jenny, that was stellar. Kept a firm control of that race, even when things didn't go right, you stayed calm and that's proper professionalism that. Great work. Drink it in, well deserved, Jenny Lowry, first place, first of many!" Peter's voice overrode, as Jenny giggled with laughter, taking this insane moment in, her emotions all over the shop, but for now, living in a moment any child would have dreamt of being in. Under floodlights at Buenos Aires, winning a race in Formula AG.

She had as many wins now as Bea did....

"Yeah!! Woo!" Jen yelled, unrestrained in how happy she was, the Silver Apex crew chanting her name as she pulled into the box and mobbing her as Paul and Nora joined her.

Race Results for Argentina

---

Cooldown Room- Argentina

The room felt weird.

Jenny had actually won, and her face was jubilant, and Paul was no doubt exhausted.

"Nicely done Paul. Not today, but you duel well." Jen smiled, looking back at their fight in the first half of the race, impressed with Paul's racecraft, clearly having learnt the lessons from Silverstone, aggressive yet not pushing past into insanity.

"Christ. Big hit Bea....what were you thinking?" Jenny asked out loud, as Nora shook her head, the incident being replayed on the display.

"Blue on blue. Didn't think I'd see it." Nora chuckled, unfolding her legs, the standings appearing on another screen next to the race highlights reel.

"Gonna get ya, Amy..." Nora muttered, as Jen saw the stewards come in, and with it, she let Nora, then Paul take the lead, before stepping out herself and running onto the top step.

An entire season of utter bullshit with Fitzroy last year. Then the mess in the first half. The P3 that was a miracle. And now this. They said fairytales weren't written. But her best friend crashing into her team-mate, to basically give her P1?

It was unfortunate, but Jen did not hold back her smile, because she'd finally made it. And matched Bea now, but felt like while it may have been more of a fluke, this wasn't the last time she'd be up here. She had a taste for blood. She was coming back for more, her smile toothy as God Save the Queen played, and then champagne flew between her, Nora and Paul.

---

Delta Hyper- Interviews

Aurora was once again in the booth, back with both Bea, then Paul, among the many other interviews. The sound of thunder could be heard, as if there couldn't be any less of a cinematic feel to match the mood at the circuit, the local media cycle going insane behind the scenes in ripping Bea and Ava apart. And obviously, posting anti-British propaganda about Silver Apex. Like usual.

"Bea, an awful result for you and the team, possibly your worst nightmare. We'll keep it brief- any words for the crowd?"

"Paul, what a thrilling race! What are your thoughts on the Carrera Condor incident? It looks like you just didn't have the spring back on Jenny after the restart, but it looks like you're continuing a rich vein in form, what in particular do you think has pushed you forwards?"

---

"Yeah, well things happen when team-mates don't talk. I guess I've been on both ends. Ava had priority there in the lead, but sometimes you have to listen, and realise you're gonna need to give and take. Teams win races by working together. I'm sure that they'll internally review it." Florence commented, her poor result not the focus, but the shitshow that was Carrera.

"Rivals? Yeah, people are chalking me and Paul up! But I'm still keeping my eyes on the top spot. It lucked out for me, but honestly, once I sowed up the move on Amy, I knew anything could be on. " Nora came out and grinned, as Harrison followed.

"What's it I'd say....sh*tshow? But what can I say, gave it our all today. Massive result for Nora today, I tell you, she is unstoppable and making me up my game! I'll need to keep my eyes forward."

Hamid grinned, a Riccardo-esque look from the short-haired, pale white maybe finding his luck.
"That, that was so much fun! I mean sure, Cassie was a monster, but fighting with her was cool, so much respect! And overtaking Stirling! Yalla, I am pinching myself, what a rush!" Hamid looked like he had swallowed all of the sugar, because this rookie on a modern circuit, where Kais's style had maybe not come to fore (one perhaps later for speed circuits), had made it pay.

Cassie was happy too.
"Seriously result for Zygon today. The incident with Bea Ward and Ava is uhhh.....well, I know from personal experience what it's like when a team struggles. Amy had some issues, then what happened, yeah, I got lucky for sure but I made that luck!" Cassie retorted, smiling for once.

"It was not the best from me, but on MAG tracks, I will be honest as I'm not coming back to many more- I am not a specialist! That was why I was so surprised in Hawaii, non? But yes, great result from the team, Paul is special. He is living up to his standards. And any doubters, put some respect on our chief, I couldn't be prouder of our progress this season. I'm going to give it everything for the rest, I'm feeling motivated, and while the rookies are proving exceptional, I feel I'm going out on a high. Maybe I'll interview people like you next year, Aurora?" Dorian beamed, uncharacteristically upbeat, despite what was a middling result. The honesty started to trickle out of him, perhaps realising if he could help Paul, big him up, get public, he'd feel that too.

Astrid grinned. It was unusually colourful of her. Was she already on the gin?
"A point! We got a point!" She was taking this one for all it was worth. One closer to MMR!"

Max was the opposite.
"Ship just gave out, such a pain. We've had a great ELS setup, thanks to Ulrich, but just couldn't make it play. And man, the crazy shit ahead from Carrera...."

Amy had to be careful, her poor result due to a poor start and getting absolutely rinsed on ELS by Cassie and Hamid, the ship not setup for "traffic" given Amy's assumption she'd put it on pole- meaning she hadn't gone as well. She was lucky Bea and Ava crashed to get anything.

"It's tough. I mean, I know Bea quite well, she's ambitious and she wouldn't give up a position if she doesn't think she can get it. Looking at the review, I think she's right to do it. Team-mates are just like anyone else on track, in the heat of the moment, and while engineers might have the strategy in front of them, we have to do with what's in front of us and follow instinct. Sometimes it doesn't work. Sometimes it wins you championships." Arrogant? A little. But Amy had won two....

Ben was unusually media trained, but his energy still came out.
"Nearly a point! I mean, yeah, it's a hard ship, and we have a lot of development. I suppose it's about finding flow, consistency, and we'll punch into points."

Ava sighed, the interview question coming out. Her minder was next to her, as Ava didn't need to glance before giving a legally audited answer.
"I won't be able to comment on the matter."

---

Braking Point

The lock went on the door of the conference room as the figure walked in, Leon interrupted, and Pablo Asturia silencing everyone, all techs, both pilots, and the TP.

Pablo arrived mid session of Alonso no doubt debriefing and dressing down the team. But Alonso's comments had absolutely nothing on Pablo. Nothing on someone who picked a specific day to come here. Staked the entire team on this. Felt the weight of media and his phone still buzzing in his pocket, which was now constant, as if he made a statement to the team by putting it on the table, revealing the constant, non stop barrage of messages. Alonso had been smart enough to shield the team. Found Ava heaving with tears in her room, just in total, broken disbelief over what she'd done to Bea, to her fans, to her chance.

Pablo collandered all of that hate, all of that feeling, because now, was about to give an executive bollocking. If Paul had felt a wobble in mental health, this was throwing a brick into a washing machine. One that Leon hadn't communicated. One that put across the feeling of how on the edge it all was.

"What the fuck was that?" Pablo didn't address Ava or Bea. Just seemed to be direct at Alonso. For now.

"Seriously? At home, after all this work we did, everything together? We threw away a prime position to put those Korean fuckers to the sword, in front of our home audience, our one fucking chance! Every spotlight in the world is on us, and we respond with this? The one race where Silver Apex cannot fucking win!" Pablo threw a water bottle he was carrying and it ricocheted off the desk.

"This is unacceptable!" He yelled, hell hath no fury like the billionaire who could have accepted a crash, a mechanical, even dropping back in points, but a double DNF caused by a pair of team-mates crashing into one another? Who had just had a biblical argument? Well, that was just as bad as it could be. If ever the roll had decided to laugh, it was right here.

"And both of you, do I need to fucking remind you what is at stake?" Pablo walked around to the pilots, hand out to any protests.

"An entire fucking continent wants to crucify you, burn every fucking hope they had that you were their pilots, their dreams you'd actually fucking give them something to cheer for after half a decade of work, so give me a reason not to put you on that cross first?! Find some fucking pilots that work together?" Pablo didn't decrease volume. He seemed to go up, now getting personal.

"Ava, you know better. Want to prove a point? Good, you just fucking proved you can't handle the pressure, rather than fucking leading this team, you put your pride first! Play back the comms, tell me you couldn't accept conceding the position! Oh, and Bea, your contract's ink may barely be dry, but you behave like a fucking child! Couldn't be patient, and forced a move there, fucking up our best result yet? Her I expect better from, but you can go toe to toe with Paul Mulder yet can't wait for your own teammate?"

"Hey, fuck you! The team didn't make a decision. I don't want to hear..." Ava's interruption, got interrupted by Pablo, who even despite not sitting in a ship, wasn't taking prisoners.

"No, you're not done hearing it! There's tens of juniors waiting for your chance, and you both committed to fucking this race up, for everyone! Everyone behind you! Burying your head in the sand solves nothing. We're protecting you from the press, because if we get this wrong, more than the lab goes up in flames! So I'm through with hearing bullshit, excuses, arguments, all of the entire time in the lead up, all the rumours....now this? Constant lies. When what matters is today, we had the best opportunity to put Zygon's teeth out of jaw, from a position we could have matched them! The gap is widening. All of you. Let that in when you think about what missing an opportunity today means. They did not win. We, we, fucking, lost." Pablo nearly spat as he called it out, as he saw it, the passion raw now given he'd started taking far more investment into the team.

"If this happens again, our funding dries up from sponsors, deals, promises we can make to make this team the best in the world. We run out of chassis to provide you, given between the two of you, and engineering faults, enough have been written off....and if FIAR slaps us with points deductions for it, we are over. A lot of people in that factory we hired specifically to get you both there, will not be needed because we cannot settle for where we came from. We cannot fuck this up. Not when the consortium is risking everything on you all to deliver what you have already proven you can do. I'm asking for nothing more than your high standards. Not. This." Pablo reiterated, making it clear that even though eh saw this through a money lens, he absolutely understood the wider implications.

"We're dependent on a solid end to our season, or else there won't be a team that'll compete next year if there isn't momentum. Felix is here because we are moving next year's ship forwards, and have a one in a generation opportunity to do so. Leon will tell you that's where the majority of the investment went. So if you don't like working together, take up contracts elsewhere in lesser teams, act your standard. Because no big team will accept you, not when the market for pilots and engineers is closed. Or, prove everyone wrong, and step the fuck up, here. If we want to win titles, we cannot compete like any other team. We must work together. We are Carrera. We run this continent. We are going to go to Brasil, and do better. We, will, fucking, do, better. As a team. Not as individuals chasing glory. Are we understood?" Pablo asked, a grovelling yes coming out of Ava, Pablo's grade of Iberian anger looking like smoke was about to pour out of his nostrils.

"We have a week to Sao Paolo. Leon, I expect better, especially from you. Or maybe the board will decide what's holding this team back from wins is you." Pablo walked towards the door.

He left the room fairly sharp. And the silence echoed, as Ava sat up and picked up the bottle, exhaling, leaning against the wall, looking to Leon.

"Say something, Leon. I'm not taking shit from him. You fought over keeping me. Moment you could have given me a chance, you pissed it away. And after nearly dying..... I won't take any offense. We won't be a team until we're honest." Ava simply retorted, looking to Bea before back to Leon, a sigh forming.

"Sorry. I owe you a new display." It was barely a whisper, Ava feeling the adrenaline fully shake out of her now, and wanting to leave before she dropped to the floor.

Pressure had gotten to everyone. Southern Cross had similar issues when Harrison had clambered to the top. Unlike Valkyrie, the team at Carrera were not seasoned, born in the fire like Valkyrie was in managing strategy, wins, successes. They were still learning, competent, but lacking even 5%, was that final difference that made the upstarts choke. Including Ava. She'd never led a race before. And she'd not win again if she let this get to her. A competent, solid result had dissolved into piss.

It wasn't the lows that got you. It was the hope that gave you everything, against all logic, reality, objectivity, that emotion came out and made shit that wasn't consequential, real. It was why racing was why it was. The moments of glory, standing on the top step, contrasted by absolute devastation, hurt that could only come from the highest highs, crashing into brutal lows.

So, it was poor timing that Cassie had decided to call Bea in that moment. Cassie had quite possibly, the worst luck in the world when it came to making enquiries of teams. This shitshow made even Zygon's early season meltdown, and maybe even Valkyrie's literal corruption scandal at the end of last year seem viable.

---

An Antithesis

The high of another P2 for Paul was maybe not as good as swiping a win from Jenny, but, it was still proof that he could do it under pressure from Nora Kelly, who had come out fighting once again. Every points haul was one that put her closer to Amy, but for Valkyrie, compared to before, this was looking better and better.

The team were jubilant, even Dorian was cheering for his team-mate, bigging him up, and giving high fives, because this was another podium excluding Germany and Hawaii, proving he could fight at the top level and bring in his father's talent to life. Dorian might not have been the same pilot he was before, but what he lacked on track, he was making up for in the sim for next year's ship. It was emerging that Paul's style was smooth, silky, almost effortless now- like Dorian's but with more punch, a pilot that could make pushes and feints like Harrison had last year. A points haul that extended the gap past Al-Saqr right when they needed, all the tiny, almost insignificant marginal gains of Alexander yielding into this very moment. Even if Dorian hadn't done well, the double DNF of Carrera ships had lifted his position, and stemmed any damage from Al-Saqr this weekend.

It must have felt redemptive, the very highs and lows even by Valkyrie standards all over the shop. Paul would be feeling over the moon, and no doubt, the team felt like from here, they'd turned a corner. No more was the scandal, endless drama, problems of the past. They were now thinking about next season, cementing P3, and who knows, even putting Paul into P3 in the drivers' championship. With the way things were going, the next two rounds would be critical to that effort, make or break to even putting Harrison on the spot. It meant that Paul's target was now not just Kais Zenix, but the 2nd best pilot on the grid from last season's results.

Alexander meanwhile, received a call from Johanna Lipusz, despite the timezone difference, a victory in Singapore followed by this making a call from her come through, finding a moment among the chaos.

"Evening. Nice results. You breathing ok after what happened at Carrera?" Johanna chuckled, awaiting a response before replying.

"It'll be hard from here, but your wonderkid, he is something. We think P3 in constructors based on that performance is still viable. Al-Saqr will not let up on points in the desert tracks. We can end on a high. Let's aim high." Johanna started, as she stated what was increasingly the obvious.

"And Mulder's closing in on Makara. If this is what he can do with a ship that isn't made for him, imagine what he'll do with one that is. We need to hone in on this. Forget legacy, Alexander. We need to make sure next year, a European wins this title. The driver's championship would be a hell of a statement. Carrera are expecting to come out swinging but are under financial pressure. More pressure we put on them, more mistakes they'll make, like today. I don't share much optimism. But everything from here, you push. They took Felix from you. You decide how we take it back from them, starting today."

---

@Starlance

Thu 01/10 20:20 - MadBea - [Batt: 75%]

Jen >
"Sending you lots of love. I can't imagine how you feel right now. Recommend you don't look at any media or news for a while. Press is going mental. Call me if you can.
"P1 is incredible though. I get why you went crazy. Tell you what. Want to grab Rodízio in Rio before the race in Brazil? Give you something else to focus on."

@LadyAmber

Thu 01/10 23:10 - Paul Mulder - [Batt: 99%]

Max>
"Sick drive dude! Gonna be real. MMR is pretty bummed out at the moment. Just trying to work out- you got any recommendations on personal trainers in Germany? I could use a guy, mine doesn't want to move with me to Europe next year."

Dispatch: Welcome to SDN!

Team Talk

Lightning Girl

Lightning Girl was not exactly the most impressed, hearing and then seeing Myla, sipping away at a cappuccino that was no doubt, a poor excuse for anything she would drink coffee wise. Even being British, and dealing with instant herself, American stuff did something else to her. That and Mexican food. Nothing could prepare her for that. But still, Sophie had adapted to America, the British demeanour of being cynical faded when she had this much voltage running in her skin. She might have still been putting on that idyllic image, but Sophie behind it knew that mask kept up what people wanted. Well, until it hadn't lately.

Where was she? Ah yeah, about to try and actually force blood from the stone of the casually dressed younger woman that felt like she was starting to make her dizzy. And non verbal a moment ago.

”K.”

"Talkative today are we? I get it, you're literally repulsed to me. Magnetism is a tricky one with electricity......but I'll try not to be too positive. I get too chatty when I've been zapped." Lightning Girl must have assumed this is who James meant about the thief who was a massive magnet. Trying to spin it positively (she excused herself her internal physics pun).

She could feel her powers interfering with Payback's presence already, almost as if it was trying to push her *away*. Lightning Girl's electrical powers weren't in of themselves, an AC, alternating current style where they just created a magnetic field around her power- they were more direct, less generation, more transmission. Spitting electrons, not brewing.

It was strange that the feeling of polarity was literal, as the other Phoenix Programme hero introduced themselves, actually coming out with more than a few syllables, in his dark corner, the pale white of Lightning Girl's suit almost casing light into the corner and making her want to keep her distance. The armour was dulled, as if itself didn't want to catch any Californian rays.

"Eclipse. Ex-'cook' if you will." He snorts. "Your wish is my command."

Eh, they could probably guess his power. All black, standing off in the darkest corner he could reasonably find. He scratches the back of his neck, another craving. He was starting to miss that drug. Kept him strong. Stronger than now, at least.

She looked him up and down, the dark corner of the office even darker than the boardroom without lights that James had ended up working in this morning.

"Suppose you're a shadowy kinda crack lord." Lightning Girl chirpily observed, watching him. "Straight up vampire, or just umbrakinesis though?" She enquired, genuine, drawing her zip from her hip pack, peeling her gloves out, the black rubber gloves going over her usual fingerless set, as if she was set to "safety". Trying not to electrocute another pair of heroes. It was dawning on her that she was probably unsafe to have around other heroes, so instead, they'd thrown this motley crew around her. It gutted her, but then again, she couldn't work alone. Not when supers had access to endless amounts of weaponry, and these days, augments that made some average villain into a fucking monster.

Then again, putting Tsunami and then Meta-Man out of action was not exactly top of her list. James had already spoken to her too many times before today.

Sophie was absolutely putting on a confident act, trying to play hero, not some part of doubt that was below her skin, the kind that Sophie when the mask was gone would need to worry about. All of her hopes, unravelling. These poor fuckers were here to redeem themselves. And they might just succeed. She couldn't go the other way in exchange. Tsunami could have sued, and that would be the end of her.....but Meta-Man, man, he was from the ends, poverty, and Sophie felt a hell of a lot worse given how unfortunate that was. But Lightning Girl couldn't let it out. Show no cracks beyond her Lichtenberg scars.

"You alright?" She asked, an open question to ask someone in withdrawal from doing drugs, but with a genuine bit of care. She understood it from the ends she'd grown up in, knowing the answer would never be "I'm fucked", not with how Americans were endlessly optimistic. Maybe it would. He wasn't entirely American, she could spot that beyond his armour.

Dispatch: Welcome to SDN!

7:19am in 91711

James Speight

The alarm clock hit. Another grotty morning. Covers thrown, slippers on.

Toothbrush, spit, shaver, stubble wicking off. Wash face. Revealing a pale, brown-red haired Mancunian who was on the wrong side of 30 last time he checked. Off-grey shirt and grey trousers on, vaguely outdoorsy looking black trainers, designer prescription glasses, smartwatch, and already, James could feel the braincells vaguely come back after a late last night of prep work for this morning.

Sophie had already left, opting to get moving this morning early. He could tell from the suit that was taken from the wall in the corridor.

And the burn marks she left by the bare cables she'd made by ripping out a 110V plug to get her morning dose for the commute in. Like a Tesla, Sophie needed power to fly, and saw a simple solution to electrocuting herself, barely made safe now by a couple of rubber prongs.

She still used that setup, James remarked. That was classic her. Landlord would throw a fit if he found out though.

Despite trying not to get electrocuted this morning, James had to say that he appreciated crashing at hers in her little 2-bed house in a quiet bit of suburbia, this little slice of Devore Heights on the very edge of LA doing its job for now. While he looked around for places to lease, the spare bedroom would do. He barely stopped for breakfast, sipping down a bottle of strawberry Kefir from the fridge, taking it with him to the car. He didn't stop for a coffee, or anything else. He was in his routine.

He'd caffeinate with some tea when he got in so he could be alive then, as he turned on the radio, the Civic turning over easily into life on the drive, the automatic making it pretty much a continued bleh to drive into work as he put it into drive. And like that, his playlist began.

Soundtrack: The Stone Roses - I Wanna Be Adored

The traffic choked the streets almost immediately on the Interstate. Sitting inside the grey Honda Civic he'd barely bought last week and discovered the air con didn't work in, the lack of warmth in the morning at least didn't add to his woes of being sunburnt all the time. He'd already gotten a nasty amount of trucker tan on his arms, as he sighed, sitting in traffic on I-15.

James had to admit, he didn't remember much of his commute in. Nobody ever did. But there was always something new, a consultant never stayed still, there was always some project he had to deal with, some bullshit that went badly wrong, some hero that needed a 1-2-1 and James knew how to deal with them. Even if he didn't have powers, envying forever any hero that could fly, like the green-caped fellow he saw in his mirror that was headed deeper into town on his morning commute. Did he have to worry about traffic? No. Course that fucker didn't. James was glad he didn't have to deal with the bullshit that came with having powers. But sometimes, he wondered how much easier it must have been for Sophie to just throw electricity at most of her problems. She'd carried him into work a few times, back when he was new and waiting to sort the car- but now, he didn't want to be dependent on her, certainly not when she decided to get up even earlier than he did.

James put it back in drive, as the traffic finally got moving again, and he indicated to get off on the freeway ramp. LA was incredibly boring, so much for DTLA, this was the reality of it. Not even Compton or Long Beach, the gangster rap was so far it was barely audible in this mild, boring bit of suburbia that he wasn't quite sure how Sophie had landed on. Desperation? Or just an offer gone wrong? He hadn't actually figured that out. A massive yawn closing out his commute followed, as he put the turn signal on.

Driving up to the gate and swiping his card at the sensor, he found a spot in the parking underneath the building, at last, getting a spot that would be in the shade later. He was early, really early. SDN Claremont. A small, provincial branch in a massive network, Superhero Dispatch Network, to be precise.

And once again, James was putting his "Visitor" parking pass in his window. He wasn't an SDN employee. He was "Other", and strangely, despite knowing more about the company than some who worked there, he wondered how five years had gone by this fast contracting. But in week two of working in sunny Claremont, he could see what Sophie meant. Sunny California. No sea breeze, but from the San Bernadino Mountains, from the outside in, he could just about get it. This was the high life. Real heroes. Even for this early, a few other heroes were in, going to the gym like Sophie had, or just getting set up in their usual routine as he walked through the glass-fronted doors into reception, seeing the lifts come to the bottom.

Running inside, he waved to reception and signed in (something the others didn't have to do) and therefore he missed the elevator. It made him divert to a different stint of the lift with a group of other employees, the small talk absolutely dead. He leaned against the side, waiting for the two-pronged ding to indicate the floor, and stepped on out onto carpet and wood, his lanyard still on around his neck with his name, face and title.

James Speight, Hero Development Consultant, Speight Hero Consulting.

He had work to do. Kat was too busy to see, but he had his own affairs. He basically worked almost without a boss, at least, he seemed to be thrown around like a ragdoll between SDN's HR, Training, Marketing and Dispatch centres on a daily basis. Never a part of any office really, just there to fill in the gaps nobody could actually figure out how to hire for.

The work kept him busy, as he finished his bottle of Kefir, crushing the plastic bottle and hurling it across the room, bouncing it off the rim of the bin. Joining two others that the cleaner hadn't gotten to removing this week.

Morning Brew

Earpods in, James kept through the morning grind, having worked before Riley had come in, and a little through Riley's meeting with Kat.

Soundtrack: Maribou State- Kingdom

It was a frantic early morning. Mostly answering calls, updating his spreadsheet and sitting in the boardroom, as he didn't have a desk at this time, the spot next to Riley occupied for now. Some shit had gone down in Torrance, but he was taken off that job really fast. Burbank had recently done some redundancies, but, for the most part he just had a few heroes to call into, check in with and see that they were put under new dispatchers and "happy" with their careers. And Denver had some work left over (given they were on MST, rather than PST), where a couple of heroes and their dispatcher were at odds. So, he made some reassignments and wrote a small memo to recommend why he was changing them, within the first 30 minutes. It felt strange getting on Zoom and asking how people felt, when nobody really bothered James at all and asked him how he was.

Dead inside.

So, tea time it was, much earlier than he could continue to deal with this bullshit, Riley likely having to meet the team for the morning anytime soon. So he got up to his usual ritual. Keep the Chief Dispatcher happy, you could do anything, James reasoned. He might have a thermos, but more coffee wouldn't hurt a man who loved his nanites, probably.

Peeling the teabag out, James took a sip and drank the thing black, a tasting sip, the kind to check it was about right, even though it scathed his tongue. Again. He took the other mug that had a tiny amount of milk and sugar in it, as Lightning Girl ran in, mask and cape on, yoinking her cup in gloved hand, already dressed for work and having been at the gym in the office this morning, to just make sure she was still up to it. She'd drained a bit of herself already doing it, but then again, you did not keep up her figure without a bit of pre-morning crunch.

"Thank you!" Lightning Girl called out. Nobody had actually put two and two together that they were brother and sister, at least, not obviously. They were two Brits in the same office. Perhaps it was like a shittier version of Lunara and Solaris, in a more crap, sort of disappointing way. He poured out the black coffee from the press, taking it in his now spare hand, looking back to her, as she sipped it down, already soothed with the warm taste of Earl Grey.

"You're welcome. You know, you should really be getting a disciplinary for...." James began, as they walked and talked, Sophie rolling her eyes as she looked over her shoulder.

"I know, water and metal don't mix with high voltage. I already wrote up my apology. And Kat said it was fine. It was an unfortunate collateral, you know I totally didn't mean it!" Sophie replied, as James sighed, realising Sophie had left a bit out.

"I think those weren't her all of her words. Careful, yeah? This isn't...you know." James replied, a bit of older brother still coming out, despite the fact Sophie was absolutely more experienced, and knowledgeable here, in perhaps more control, standing tall over him.

"Yeah, yeah. Rumour has it we have some Phoenix Programme on my team. Do you know them? I didn't fuck up that bad, did I?" Lightning Girl asked, walking alongside James as they walked out of the cafeteria, James not really able to answer all of her energy this morning.

"Not really, but hey, give them a chance? One's a thief that really likes magnets. The other used to make meth for supers, I think. Then Solaris and Lunara, they're....uhhh, I don't even get them. Solaris is like what you looked like before you lost all your hair pigment."

"Yes, and went fucking nearly grey. Great. HR is testing me. Half the team decide to get in the way of a perfectly good save, and suddenly, I'm in with crooks." Lightning Girl uttered, as if she carried a slight air of grudge, despite having nothing to do with the Phoenix Programme herself, wondering what on earth she had done so bad to end up here. That would emerge, James would no doubt feel.

"They aren't. Just don't do anything silly, and I'm sure it'll be fine. Have a good shift, yeah?" James added, Sophie shrugging, before heading out to the smoking area, with her having nothing to really add, nodding back to him.

"Yeah sure. Catch up later." Sophie seemed to peer through Lightning Girl's voice, parting away, heading outside to go sort herself out for the start of her shift.

James breathed a deep sigh, as he carried his remaining mug, spotting that the desk on the other side of the cubicle divider to him, and moving quick, putting a coffee in front of Riley, down on his placemat.

"Morning, Riley. We still on for the meeting? Gonna say, your new team are a right bunch of misfits. And you paired them with Lightning Girl. I didn't think she would take it well....but she takes time with these sorts of things." James greeted him, dropping a lot of info on him, as no doubt, he was about to have his morning filled with the new team. He took a seat at the now vacant quadrant, and quickly jogged to grab his laptop, power cable, bag, mouse and other peripherals in a well practiced snatch and grab to put down by the Lenhart machine, setting himself up whilst Riley replied.

---

Shock Therapy

Lightning Girl

"Morning, Alpha Team. This is your Dispatcher Riley Rider checking in. Since losing Tsunami and Meta-Man last week, we've got new team members joining us. Feel free to say hello and make them feel 'welcome'".

The response from Lightning Girl was a bit delayed to Riley's question, the white-haired British heroine a bit....occupied.

"Yeah, yeah, you.....hang on!"

And like that, Lightning Girl hung onto the transformer again, yelling out, not realising she had left comms open. It was a yell of pleasure, probably not far off her hitting orgasm, but getting hit by that much energy just switched on every neuron inside her, a yelp of joy. It was genuinely a bit unnerving, because the electricity picked her up off the ground and held her in a cloud of static after she contacted it, as she proactively *giggled*. She could feel herself going from a bit plugged in from the morning tea and waffle she'd had coupled with five minutes on charge to the wall, to straight up feeling like she could start absolutely fucking blasting. Which she did as she peeled her hands away from the coil, pinging a nearby Lightning rod with her pointed fingers, blowing smoke from the end of her hand like she had a gun.

Not the best move, considering she was still back at the office. On the neighbouring roof. Probably causing the main office to have a slight oscillation in power as the lights flickered inside from her juicing off a distribution cable.

"Shit, sorry that was a bit loud! Left my comms open! Okay, now I'm good....all juiced up, and ready to go kick some arse! Good morning to you too, Riley!" Lightning Girl postured into her earpiece in her transtantic, British hinged accent, standing on the roof, her cape billowing in the wind, standing on the roof of SDN Claremont, looking out. Classic superhero move, but then again, if you felt good, you were doing good. Taking in the city, as if to reinforce her own confidence. Tell herself, you can do this.

Lightning Girl was absolutely not in the morning mood James was. She was willing to go out and do some harm to those who would wish to do that upon people, and her feeling was good. Her white hair blew in the breeze, her cape billowing a little too, the suit squeaking from the time she'd had it resown after a particularly nasty hit. Her Factor 50 was on, her feeling was positively like she was full of lots of amps, and ready to get moving, black carbon mask covering her forehead and eyes, white hair kept loose to her shoulders, leather boots creaking a little, and her teeny little yellow hip-pack sitting on the small of her back where her medical kit, rubber gloves and first responder gear were when she was working with EMTs.

Now she was in a position to reply, adjusting her headset, the adapted device able to survive her running live with current and currently smelling a little of ozone.

"Hi team, I'm Lightning Girl! I'm an electricity based kind of person.....Riley, please send my apologies to Tsunami and Meta-Man if you don't mind. They uhhh.....I mean, I did tell them I could handle it. I look forward to working with you all, just please don't run in front of me if I'm throwing bolts at baddies! I'm just by the smoking area, good to go when you lot are!" She exclaimed, rather excited at first, before turning to the elephant in the room, realising she should probably do something else than stand *magnificently* on the roof, her focus back to her as she dropped down into the smoker's balcony with a practiced ease, looking around for the others, who would no doubt find it impossible to miss her.

Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex (Military, Modern, Fantasy, Action-Thriller)

Day 2: 00:45:10
Outside of Koley Railyard, Koley,
Libor Province,
Republic of Polavia

The fight was going nicely. About as good as it could considering they were not meant to be in full blown warfare with a forest behind them gently catching alight, but armed recon in stealth. Silas and Rowan on the flank were dragging bullets their way, the poison gas and Rowan's magic were making them think differently, while Borys was moving up on Felix. The Libolian wasn't quite sure what was going on, but Borys decided to take matters into his own hands.

Well, fingers, as Felix was about to kick the shit out of him as Borys pulled his finger out, the gag interrupting Felix's words....

"Borys, the fuck are you...."

BLRUGH.

Felix immediately chundered out a mass of...what can only be not described, and immediately cleaned up his mouth, so close to just putting a bullet into the pisshead, him thinking this was a game. Silas and Rowan were laying down fire effectively, 12.7mm rounds slamming into trees, as Felix put two and two together. And realised what Borys was trying to do. A bit of sick had landed on Borys, mind.

Suddenly feeling rough yet pumped with adrenaline, Felix decided to take a little imitative, breaching fibreoptic in hand, feeling the mana burn a little inside of him, the reserve tanks on for energy inside to get him through this fight. As any good operative would need to do. He hoped the team had his back, looking at Borys square.

"Stop fucking drinking and start shooting." Felix tapped Borys on the shoulder, and the lion that Felix switched to nearly barged him over.

Clearing the ground through the grass, what looked like Felix was just running out into the open, the MG switching to blast fire onto Felix, the illusion falling apart, and the lion, what the PSA militia thought was actually the illusion, kept going.

Diving into the back of the UAZ, the distraction was grateful, as Oksana took the opportunity of the gunner and the remaining fireteam pulled in too many different directions to act, into actually getting a bead on the gunner. And that she did. The bullet felt divined, in how it covered about 150m of ground and splattered into the gunner's head, before Felix casually took a chunk out of one of the guys taking cover behind it, a filet steak sized portion of shoulder and neck that crunched in his teeth like butter.

The others cleaned up nicely, Oksana pipping two more in the rocks in the clearing, easily putting them out with surgically placed bullets.

Felix showed in that moment, why perhaps maybe his ability was a little bit broken.

The last man standing, the former driver screamed as he tried to run, but Felix was so much faster. He didn't play with his food. He just went for the neck and thorax, jaw peeling him apart like a tangerine, spitting out the bits of lung he'd caught that he really wasn't a fan of. His digestive system, and his lion's were a little different. And now all of Babushka's food being empty in his human form had meant that as a lion, he had a gap to fill.

The lion turned back around, playfully running along as Oksana ran down the hill, all enemies clear, their team leader unable to communicate but from his enhanced hearing and sight, not seeing much. A graceful ginger-haired lion covered in blood in the middle of a chilly Polavian forest felt a little contradictory, but hey, he didn't choose this life.

"You diabolical fuck!" Oksana called out almost in shock, as Felix gave a playful roar, a grin if possible on the lion's face that they were out of the woods. He made a move to the UAZ, shifting back, looking around as he broke into a jog, taking in his handiwork. A little almost embarrassed, but, impressed at the same time by Borys unleashing him.

"I'll give Borys credit where due. Consider a career as a beastmaster if this shit doesn't work out because....nobody's made me be sick for that. Please don't be sick yourselves. I'm uhh....cannot help it. I'm a pescatarian!" Felix added, awkward, as the Polavian sniper jogged down, Oksana looking at the state of the body by the UAZ, accustomed to the images on the internal emails that emerged when he was at work.

"I'd have been sick by now if I wasn't. Ammo is getting low my end. We got a plan apart from getting shot by another patrol and you feasting on medium rare Polavian at Mach Fuck?" The Polavian dryly retorted, flicking a new magazine in, direct in thoughts.

The sound of tracks rustling in the distance and a train horn made echoed made a plan for the unofficial team leader quickly.

"Idea. Rowan, jump up on the DShK. I'll drive.....we have a train to catch, if it's cargo, we can sneak aboard. You're right that the resistance is too heavy, we're going to get squished if we head to the trainyard with this lot on us. Just means we need to burn any tail first." Felix asked, as Oksana looked around.

"Easier said than done. Polavian trains do not slow down for anyone. Big efficiency drive. Mostly because the train drivers get to finish once they complete their shift. Our window is small." Oksana retorted, realising that Felix was proposing jumping onto the train. A poor idea in a field of potato-powered bullshit and very rare human meat.

"Well, that sounds like an even bigger win to me. They in the pocket of the Albani?"

The team clambered in, as Oksana replied to Felix's question, loosely sitting in the back of the open-topped communist jeep, loading a new mag into her Vityaz, counting her remainders out.

"Mostly not. Don't need to pay them when the containers are." She replied, as the UAZ chugged, Felix turning the key inside of it.

"Come on!" Felix yelled, as he slapped the dash, and with almost a comical timing, the engine belched out black diesel smoke, the former Captain awkwardly shoving it into gear, with more abuse than a Kalan prison getting put into the gear shift into second given he realised the UAZ was a machine built on BDSM like demand. It understood no other language than mechanical violence, in exchange for questionable quantities of oil.

"And you still look think you're in control?" Oksana asked, the question open, knowing Rowan was thinking it, and increasingly, so was she. This was a complete fucking mess.

"Trying. Not got much choice but to play the cards we're dealt, aren't we?" Felix replied, as driving down, more PSA tracer fire darted above, as Felix kept it as steady as he could over the rough and tumble of the forest tracks, another patrol in the forest firing on them and the team firing back. Spotlights were out, as mud and dirt sprayed everywhere, the ride about as bumpy as a trampoline made of bare concrete.

"Contacts!" Felix called out, as another UAZ emerged, more swearing and shouting audible, and bullets flew from the team. Oksana sprayed her PP-19, taking out a couple of the. There was something to be said about it all, as Felix turned left, a massive hit to the vehicle as it bumped and rattled alongside the train track, where the train was still at running speed. The UAZ behind tried the same move, and two of the PSA militants were actually thrown out by the size of the bump, skidding to a halt to pick up the two that had been flung out.

"Hah! Okay! Here!" Felix yelled, keeping the UAZ alongside, gunfire dying down, peeling alongside the train, the box cars a mixture of ISO containers and traditional cattle wagons, old units put into service that were also being used to store loose goods. Felix kept the revs high, next to one such container, as Oksana unbolted the latch and drew it open, making a bigger opening than the gap between the carriages, which would be insane.

As Felix kept throttle pinned, Oksana helped Borys in, given his shitfaced nature, it was best he went and caused as little hassle here. Then next up, she offered a hand up to Silas, the bumps difficult but her holding the frame to give him a chance to leap up, before she would follow.

But something hit her mind and immediately set her off. The visions halted.

"Wait, not yet!"

"Oksana, fucking go!" Felix yelled back, as Oksana did as she was told, despite the burning feeling in her. It was impossible, like a hunch backed by so much more. Because the moment she made the jump, following after Borys, throwing herself into the carriage, the car had to dodge a gap in the road, that then suddenly was filled by the emergence of another UAZ smacking into the side of it.

---

The crash was a hard hit, with Felix and Rowan scattered, thrown from the UAZ, the jeep in bits and them lucky to be breathing.

The other UAZ that had smacked into it was a write-off too, but the militia inside had fared better.

Felix groaned, as the PSA team from the crashed UAZ flooded the area, at least a fireteam's worth, four or so in his vision.

"Shit. You're not friendly are you." A hit to the face and a hard kick was that reply, Felix was aware that any switch or escalation now would be a risky move. One of them was carrying a big iron looking staff, and it was throwing him completely for everything. No craft available to him with a ward like that. Probably why Oksana was not able to see that coming. That was a smarter move, Felix realised, as before Rowan could move, she got kicked in the side and thrown to the floor.

And next to him, Olygarkov, emerging from a polished looking Range Rover, cigarette in hand, breathing it out. Ushanka and leather coat on, he didn't half look like the evil spawn of a police state.

He walked along the crunched glass of the UAZ's windscreen, cackling almost, looking around at the two he'd managed to get in his hands.

"Rowan Morgana! I cannot believe this, you have made my day....and fallen right into our palm. With another caster causing us..... inconvenience." Olygarkov announced as if he was some minor noble, almost rather pleased with what felt like a lot of other works, not his own.

And leaning in, as the other militant held her up, Olygarkov's smile became like that of a Cheshire cat.

"What is it they say? Two for one? Capitalist scum come in capitalist numbers! You, and the fucking lion.....for free!" Olygarkov was now monologuing. Like any two-bit wannabe bureaucratic, secret policeman.

"And you followed him after it all? After what he did? He does not know what to do. No.......he got you in front of us though." Olygarkov yanked her by her plate carrier, dragging her away from the mess, leaning her against the car, bloody and hurt, away from where Felix was now getting attention.

"But now we have you, nobody else has to die. The rest of your team need not worry." Olygarkov added, his voice trailing from the Libolian's view, as rifle was still pointed at him. The next words were likely going to be to shoot said lion, he thought to himself. People full of themselves did that.

Felix looked up, sighing, coughing up, the hurt deep inside him, watching Rowan get dragged away. He didn't make too much noise, staying compliant, not wanting to rile his captor while the boss talked. He might have been full of bad decisions, but this was a moment where even without vision, he could make a good one.

"Two for one is a bad deal." Felix lept up and yanked the AK-103's barrel from the hands of the man in front and kicked at the same time, taking a couple of rounds from the ward-carrying militant before turning the rifle he'd stolen onto the man who held him, before putting a round through the head of the ward-carrying soldier next to him. It wasn't much to crawl and hurl it as far as he could across the tracks, as Olygarkov and his other soldier reacted. But he was bleeding. Badly. Felix barely was up before stumbling forward and about to look like he was going to drop dead, a bullet through his side and top of his throat, making him fumble, and fall to the floor.

As Olygarkov turned and pointed his Makarov at him, trigger pulled to finish the job, the special forces operator vanished.....and the lion appeared.

And that lion tore off his arm as Felix darted forwards and up, the AK dropped, as he snarled, before then leaping onto him and ripping out his stomach, another soldier leaping on top of Felix with a knife.

Brave trying to fight a lion, but Felix felt the cut into his side of the big knife, but rolled across and drove forward, making a really brutal, horrid scene of it, basically just putting his jaw to the militant's head and taking a bite.

From behind, it was a bloody scene, probably worse than anyone had seen Felix do from earlier.

By the time Felix was done, he was licking bits out of his teeth, panting hard, bleeding. He couldn't change back, not until he saw a medic in his human form. He'd been hurt badly there, the cut bad now, but managable. He sauntered across to Rowan and put one of his sharp paws into her arms as carefully as he could pulling her and the ziptie down, but peeling through it, looking on at the train that was now getting further away, with their medic aboard. He brushed his mane and paw against Rowan's broom and her headset, and stood rampant with his....arms, legs, front legs? Whatever they were, looked her in the eyes and made a bark that sounded like the low frequency rumble of a V8, giving a nod (as best as a lion could), and turned his head to the train, making a pained noise. With that, he proceeded to bolt, running towards the train, leaving her there and then. Hoping she would understand what to do next, where to go, the Range Rover still running, but another option available to her. He wasn't getting on her broom to get where they were going.

The lion strained, Felix hurt, full, and most of all, feeling like he would crash out. He had to get to that train. He'd make it. He just hoped Rowan would because they'd do so much worse to her if she didn't.

It must have been a strange response, irrespective of how Rowan treated that situation, but he was chasing the train, and she had alternative means. It had happened so fast, Rowan must have been confused, but in a strange way, perhaps he hoped in that moment that she'd get herself to safety.

---

Meanwhile inside the train, Oksana exhaled, watching on as the car was hit, and smacked into a rock, barely as she clambered up, looking back and realising that Rowan and Felix hadn't joined them.

"Rowan? Felix? Come in! I fucking told him....fuck's sake. No chance we get him back. Every time I throw myself out of this thing to save his stupid ass, I break myself. Rowan though....fuck. I hope she can make a run for it." Oksana blurted, exhaling, realising jumping from the train at this speed now would be broken legs territory. She didn't want to rely on luck, so trusted they'd get themselves out. Or at least, worst case scenario, the lion that had caused all the shit they were in was left behind.

Peering out of the train as it hit a right hand curve, the sound of distant roaring could be heard, a lot of screaming, and it seemed to continue, more than the gunfire had.

"Felix, Rowan, status? You both alive?" Oksana asked, her foresight unclear, the sound of clinking making her stop.

They hadn't actually checked what was in the modified train car, as Oksana looked to Silas and Borys. The wooden floor and feeling of it felt like it was from 100 years ago, not a modern train system.....yet Polavia felt like it sometimes didn't always roll with the times.

"Oh god. You're not going to believe this." Oksana tittled, gently pulling the fabric cover off the container behind her, revealing dozens and dozens of crates of vodka bottles.

There was more Medlandia than Borys had likely ever seen in his entire life, but the awe must have been completely broken when Oksana tapped her fist against the side of a crate, it making a loud clink, rather thank the deeper.

"Empties." She added, drawing one from the near hundred crates in this carriage alone, and rolling it backwards across the floor, looking to Borys and Silas, a realisation she was with two of the team who could hold their own in drinking.

"We are definitely going to Novy Jork......"

DELTΔ HYPER (Anti-Gravity Racing, Cyberpunk/Solarpunk RP)

Friday 29th September, 2094
Autodromo de Buenos Aires, Argentina
1900 ART

The Shop Window

Cassie Neves

Cassie's phone rang as she left Zygon hospitality post-practice, the voice of Joao Vitor, her agent, deciding to make a phone call that connected as she was headed to her personal trailer. Click to receive, Cassie put hand to ear, the Zygon-branded merch jacket clashing against her pilots inner-suit that she kept on for the time being.

"Joao?"

"We have an update. Carrera."

"You want to talk about it, while I'm in the middle of all of this?"

"Well, get yourself clear." Cassie heard, as she walked across to a quieter part of the cloudy, now-springtime paddock, finding a quiet spot behind another trailer, checking for drones and making sure her implants weren't listening in. If Zygon decided they were, well, they weren't total monsters to their star pilots. At least, she hoped.

"Team is going well. What if Carrera piss up next year's ship?"

"That's up to you."

"Well, things are getting better here."

"Contract is sizable. I would think about it. Zygon's got positive trajectory, but the optics, culture, fit at Carrera are perfect, and they are gonna need it. Match made in heaven."

"I'm guessing by that you mean I'd replace Ava, not Bea. How she hasn't been tapped up is beyond me....so yeah. I get it. The Iberian link." Cassie replied, as the agent chuckled.

"Well, she almost was, and yes, that was what they liked. Point is, their management has started making some big moves, and they made enquires through an intermediary. But they need you to meet. Zygon will keep you as their star if you want them to. You're outscoring Han, so Carrera will pay a pretty penny to get you out of that contract. And given Valkyrie sowed up shop with Max, options for the rest of the grid don't exist. So it's your choice. Terms are similar, and they'll even buyout Zygon's share. The flexibility is greater. I'll send you it on the encrypted box what they're proposing. We haven't got long to decide." Joao added, as Cassie sighed, looking to the overcast heaven, the Scot currently dying her hair with a weird blue-red to match the team's livery this weekend, brushing a strand of it from her face.

"I need an inside view. Big decision." Cassie almost spat back, to the point, the decision beginning to click.

"Would you like me to talk to someone?"

"No, the person I'm thinking of nearly smacked into me a few weeks ago. Then apologised rather politely. Funny how it works." Cassie's lips turned to smile, shaking her head.

"Call you back." Cassie muttered, hanging up the phone.

Back in Zygon world, she checked back in with the team, as always, pretending nothing happened.

---

Friday 29th September, 2094
Autodromo de Buenos Aires, Argentina
2000 ART

Extrapolations

Harrison Makara

Sitting there and looking out at the practice results, Harrison and Nora sat looking at the display, inside the pit box, Owen wanting to talk through it with both of them, together. Being held back after hours felt difficult, but their practice results were without a lack of a word, horrendous.

"We're not doing what we should be. I get it, the track's difficult. But we need to kill the bleeding. Stay on the attack. Get after Amy. We don't do that by sitting back. Or deciding we're not sharing data." Owen simply retorted, looking at them both, simply done with their bullshit.

Looking to Nora, the yellow and silver polymer armed and legged pilot looking back with a grimace, Harrison sighed. Hoping it wouldn't come to this. It looked like Bea and Ava weren't the only ones who'd argued.
"All due respect." He commented, the look of animosity coming out from strain in the season.

"Well, since you two won't have that respect, we've already made that call. Your engineers will talk and share your setups, we're one garage, not two units fighting. For the sake of the team. So don't be nearly pilots. Be the ones that take this intuitive. We've got a chance here to keep that top spot as ours. Let's not fuck this up." Owen added, looking to the delta in the map, a reminder to them both, looking back.

"Any chance we get to stop Amy, is a chance one of you two will get to take top spot. But that gap is growing, and if you don't work together, you can forget about any chance we have of holding a candle to them this season. Lowry is hunting us in the Constructors. And remember what happens to us if we lose that top spot. Are we understood?"

Both pilots nodded, as with it, the team boss, Owen Keating, suddenly was in the sofa, with the background behind him.

"Was it hard having that talk with them both?"

"Yeah, well, it isn't exactly a fun choice. It isn't what I'd prefer to do. But, you have to set it out."

"Would you say that's a nice problem to have?"

"Well, have you ever had two people who want the same thing, fight it out? It's understandable from their point of view. But from mine, I see two pilots willing to give it their all for the Whanau and so many Polynesians that would love to be in those ships. Best we deliver without arguments."

---

Saturday 30th September, 2094
Autodromo de Buenos Aires, Argentina
1000 ART

Fame

Hamid Atlassi

The Moroccan's white-bleached hair stuck out as he signed away at fans that had come to Al-Saqr's fanzone, the growing fanbase all shifting from Layla to him. He was a hell of a lot more outgoing, and for the Arabic Union based Al-Saqr, suddenly a growing star. Kais Zenix may have had his marketing, his ventures and his own way of doing things, but Hamid had grown in popularity once he hit the points. So signing autographs on posters, tablets, arms, and all sorts of places, as well as being at the fore.....made him an obvious target in the interview room for Aurora's questioning.

A kid ran over, with a hand drawn picture of the Al-Saqr ship, and Hamid gleefully signed it away, a pentagonal star at the end of his name that always came with heritage of where he came from.

Things were going on in the background. Things he didn't want to dwell on. Or wasn't exposed to.

"You and Kais seem very different when it comes to marketing. Why is that?" Aurora asked in the cabin, Hamid sitting there with his legs crossed, white and green faux-leather jacket on, sunglasses in hand from whenever this element had been filmed.

"Habibi, I'm open! I remember being a kid and being excited. So I put myself in the right place. Kais focuses on the race. I'm extraverted. People person. I feed off that."

"Would you collaborate with another team's initiative, if asked?"

"Well, officially....I can't answer that! But, I think we have to share the love. We forget so easy. It's so hard to become a pilot. So difficult to do. So I pay back my child, my young self by giving others the same hope. #FansFirst is a great initiative. I would love to do something like it." Hamid smiled, beaming at footage.

That cut easily into a 6-year old Hamid on what was old home-video like footage, with a composite framed cart, framed on an old F1 design, smiling and standing by it with a bicycle helmet, absolutely glowing with pride with the thing he absolutely loved.

---

Saturday 30th September, 2094
Autodromo de Buenos Aires, Argentina
1000 ART

Infamy

Ava Villarosa

The fans at the Carrera Condor fanzone were also out in droves, crowding the place. This was a flagship event, absolutely as big as it could be. And while Bea had her adoring fans, almost in the hundreds, like having an entire Silverstone crowd to herself in the same way the Europeans loved Paul came to see the Chilean. She was not Argentine, that was 100% different to having Bea's predecessor in, but, she was Latina, she was of the area, and given Chilean and Argentine relations had cooled, despite history, she was still seen as the region's best racer in a generation. Ava towered over most, even on her prosthetics, her posture and pre-amputation height maintained by this in particular.

Ava enjoyed this. She was getting over the pain of the split with Bea by at least reaching out to people, replacing the hole in her heart from thinking she actually had a friend, to swallowing the adoration of her fans and the distraction it gave. Something about not being liked, but being loved. It tugged at her, but Rey encouraged her to keep her mind off it and engage with fans.

Signing away, Ava kept close to the forefront, before one fan decided to pipe up. Probably not Argentine, given the English accent bringing him here to the relatively cheap tickets and epic views at the packed out Autodromo.

Which was brave. In Argentina, English was not maybe the best voice to have.

"You're full of shit! You're holding back Bea!" The voice called, clearly at the wrong fan meet. Very clearly, in negative IQ, but passion was one thing. Response was immediate.

"Puta, you won't support our own, English bastard!" Another yelled back in Argentine-tinted Spanish, and Ava backed away, realising quite what was about to happen.

And suddenly, shit absolutely hit the fan. One man punched another, and Ava was quickly extracted away, as security immediately lept in and contained someone else throwing a flare.

It felt like even in trying to hold back, the flames stoked, but the feeling of violence never too far. Ava had never seen obsession like this. Some fans had gotten angry in spite of Carrera's rise, not at management, but at the divide that had leaked, and then been encouraged by Leon in the press.

"Was it hard dealing with the fallout between you and Bea? The rumours, I mean..."

"I would rather not talk about it. Next question." Ava cut Aurora off, there and then, arms folded, looking dead to camera.

"And the rivalry between the team in Argentina and Britain?"

"Next." Ava burnt a hole in the viewer.

---

Saturday 30th September, 2094
Autodromo de Buenos Aires, Argentina
1020 ART

Relations

Ben Hale

The phone rang inside his trailer, as Ben finished up with the VIP meet and mingle session, NOVA making its most of the morning and letting local celebrities in where they couldn't into the now packed out Carrera Condor sector. Orchard Capital, in particular had brought some hot shots in, so Ben was wheeled out to chat all things racing, while Florence did the last minute work in the sim, wanting to extract a bit more from the ship. In his black and green-lined undersuit, the barely 19 year old pilot was readied to go, leaning against the wall with phone in hand, with Amber's face on it.

A pinch of finger, and Amber's voice animated.

"Hey."

"Hey." Ben tried to play it cool, the Swiss on the other end of the phone almost certainly calling about something Ben had wanted to get back to her on. More than the fast message last night.

"Sorry I couldn't make the date. Look, you know how it is." Ben spluttered, feeling the silence needed filling.

"Okay, okay. I get it. Big shot AG pilot now. You don't mingle with us juniors." It was becoming a little clearer who this was. Amber Beck, Nordic Call, JAGF pilot. Two young lovers, for sure, and even in spite of being in two different teams, had barely been reported on in the field of Ben's youth and his high performance in the Junior AG league.

It was some melodramatic bullshit to pick, but, from the moment Ben met Amber in the lower leagues, they'd chatted, their families in similar circles, and well, one thing led to another. Dating another racer was silly, beyond stupid, even management told him that. But 18 year olds made decisions that weren't always fuelled by the right thing.

"No, it's....well, okay, it was a really serious dinner. Florence introduced me to....well, I can't say."

"You, and your ego are just blowing up like a balloon. Can't say? Look at you now."

"Well, you just weren't as fast as me. You'd be here too."

"Cheeky." Amber replied, as they both laughed, Ben looking out of the window, seeing the crowds thin, as the VIPs left and were headed for their next engagement. Meaning he'd be joining Florence in the sim for more work soon.

"I'll make it up to you. Nova Cadiz Asado. Tonight. After your race. I'll watch it once I'm done in the sim." Ben replied, Amber leaving a silence, with a contemplation.

"I will just have to clear my heaving schedule. So much to think about, so many events to reschedule..."

"Oh, funny...."

"Yeah, yeah. This is why pilots don't date." Ben added, cutting it off hearing the sound of footsteps up the stairs to his trailer. "Really sorry, but I need to run. Love you lots."

"You too. Good luck." Ben put down the phone, seeing one of the engineers come past the window and knock, and with that, phone was thrown back, and pilot Ben was back in the building.

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Round 14 of Formula AG
Saturday 30th September, 2094
Qualifying
Autodromo de Buenos Aires, Argentina
Argentine AGP
1300 ART

Magnetised

Jen Lowry

Soundtrack: KOAN Sound- Spirals Unfold

"Clear, Jen. Let's get after it." The voice from Cal put her in her mind back in the zone.

The track itself may have started and ended at the old Oscar y Juan Gálvez Circuit start-straight, but it quickly ended up being nothing like it- from tarmac onto complete MAG tracking, that made grip basically vice-like through most corners, making ships go from slip to stick. The camber was basically 70 degrees on the hardest of hairpins, making them come across as much shallower turns than they were given how hard the ships were planted into the corner through the seat- but thanks to their positioning, making it safe for spectators to actually watch ships go toe to toe through them, watching them as if they were seeing them come in top-down given perspective. Most of the MAG tracking was built on a specialist glass or seethrough surface, making it possible to see at Turns 3 and 12/13 the ships literally fly towards each other yet opposite to each other, on different panels of glass.

The feeling of modernity bled through the stands, with the spectators right against the track, with enormous field generators allowing for ships to come incredibly close to watching spectators- while offering them an outlet if they collided or crashed. It blended safety with spectator views, in a way few circuits really did- while it may not have been to a traditionalists liking that the original circuit was butchered, it created a spectacle and good racing, rarely two things that blended.

Curva 1 leading to a massive ramp that led into a massive banked turn that had a view onto the rest of the circuit and the towers of Buenos Aires, before coming down at Turns 3 and 4, before slamming out at 6 into a hard, long bank. A long straight allowed for a lovely burst of speed, allowing for a massive burst of speed into 7, at 8 using a similar banking to keep speeds high, and make up for the original circuit's deficit of breaking up flow- with MAG tracking, the circuit felt a lot faster than its layout appeared to give, MAG tracking in corners also making it easier to pick lines for overtakes and dump ELS. Here, it felt like every overtake really relied on ELS, and just making brave, hard moves through the corners at any given moment. At Turn 12, the circuit went underneath its own banking, literally going upside down onto the other part of the circuit before coming back down into where Turn 13 and 14 at the Senna S restored itself back to the only part of the circuit maintained- a tarmac section that led to the Turn 16 transparent-glass bank (in front of lots of roaring fans), and the chicane at 17/18 that used a fun inverted camber to force ships to slow down, ratchet hard right and left, before slamming on the gas without hitting the wall. The lap was short, barely over a minute, but it had this "one more time" feeling to it. Unlike other circuits earlier in the season which were lengthy, long affairs of super fast, long corners, this felt like a challenge to

A thrilling lap, given most of it was taken near full throttle, and the pilot inside.

"Jen, that is P1! P1 Jen, stellar lap, where did you get that from! Your Q3 looked absolutely dialled in, that's close to a lap record!"

"Woo! That's what I'm talking about!" Jen chirped back, backing up Cal's confidence from earlier, and proving that in spite of spotty performance, she still had what it took. The ship was of course, still a cut of the field, but today, she put the time in. It seemed strange. Jamie had completely missed the mark, lost his way despite a promising season, but Jen, she seemed to have something else up her sleeve.

Like Amy? Or was it the ship finally being tamed and set to her feeling? The speculation was uncertain, but Silver Apex seemed to be back, and to take back 1st in the constructors was a worthy gambit.

Qualifying Results for Italy:

docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1qF6cn…

The others experienced varying laps. Paul had clearly gotten an optimal ELS tune, finding a ship that absolutely sang thanks to a rested, focussed team, able to make the most out of each corner and in theory, on a circuit that demanded an incredibly potent ELS system given the amount of MAG tracking, had just lost out to Jen being on one. While Beatrix had done well, it was almost out of stubbornness- the team wanted to do well at their home race, and despite Ava being away, it was a home race for Carrera. She wasn't letting the fans down, and almost as if fuelled by a want to prove Bea wrong, was holding pace.

As if a fuck you, look at me now.

It was a statement to get ahead of Amy, who was struggling, but showing promise on certain sectors, never a threat to rule out. Hamid had absolutely gotten his ship places it shouldn't have, and the sparks of promise were beginning to show. Even if Florence Mason had fried her power unit in Sector 3, and caused a red flag right at the start of the season, poor luck dampening an initially promising start for NOVA.

---

Saturday 30th September, 2094
Autodromo de Buenos Aires, Argentina
1745 ART

Post Qualifying Interview- Argentina

Post qualifying, the sunset came in on the elevated MAG track, and at the main office building, almost marble-white and surrounded by greenery was a rooftop where Aurora had a chance to catch up with each of the pilots.

"Bea, third place in Argentina, and it puts you next to Paul Mulder. Tell us, how are you looking forward to battling with him again, after your previous fight in Singapore, and who could forget your massive duel in Belgium!"

And inversely....

"Paul, second on the grid, showing that whatever it seems to be that you're doing! How are you feeling about fighting with Beatrix tomorrow, and making the best of your grid position, and what looks like a breakthrough ELS system?"

On the other hand....

"Kais, not the best performance from you, but it looks like your ship seems to still be breaking all the records at the speedtraps. Tell us more about Al-Saqr's speed focussed strategy, and how you're getting on with taming it?"