FourtyTwo

Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont

Friday
18:59
The Grand Cayman Hotel,
Hollywood, Los Angeles

More to Six

”I find it a bit loud. What are we doing other than spending enormous amounts of money, anyway? Feels like we're showing off here.” The next sentence is trapped behind his teeth. Something this, something that, sins, greed. Jet had only had the displeasure of saying it a few times. But it was there on the edge of his tongue, unsaid, but also not forgotten.

Besides, he still means it. But, not remotely in the same way. Instead of searching for an admission of their sins. Jet's thinking about all the kitchens he scrubbed dishes in to feed himself after he got out the first time. Very different motivations.

He tilts his head at Lucas, the light striking his features differently. Maybe he and Lucas had met before. It’s that realization that gets him to pivot the conversation to something a little less personal, away from something Lucas could connect more dots on. ”Where'd you get that suit?”

@SonnetNSunbeam

Technocrat laughed, riffing on the Phoenix, knowing he would want to get out of this conversation soon, but not before he talked about himself more. And marketed. Maybe Asteroid would be useful someday. Maybe he wouldn't.

But spending money and showing off.....was the point, he wanted to say out loud.

"Spending enormous money and showing off is the point. We are marketing, after all, my friend. That's how you get billions. SDN spends a relatively little to get a lot. It's not what you know." He clinked his champagne glass against his fancy, very, very expensive Richard Mille watch.

"It's who you know. Your net worth is your network, Asteroid. I talked about that on my podcast. If you haven't heard it, I would recommend it for a hero like yourself making a name. Stop thinking small game, because if you want to hyperscale your brand, your very existence, powers only get you so far." Lucas smirked, the fact he had a podcast now just magnifying all of this bullshit.

Flattered by that next comment of his, not even giving a thank you for that. It was a question, not a compliment, Technocrat believed.

"I had it custom made on Saville Row, using fabrics they're still working on in DARPA. Spidersilk nanite enfused with wool from sheep they can only find on a remote Tibetian mountain. It costs thousands for just the seams. Trust me. I ain't walking around without a statement, this baby is near indestructible and looks good." Lucas enjoyed a little flex every now and then.

Walking away, as if to grab Liberty, Technocrat, he did have one last thing come to mind as he caught a glance.

"Oh, and Asteroid? Keep out of trouble. It's hard getting stakeholders when you're a felon, so don't add to the charges. And someone of your talents might be useful to someone like me when you clear the programme." He would utter back to him, the fact he was even giving advice, almost showing some level of attachment. It was fucked, maybe because Asteroid seemed to be interested, challenge him. He liked that. But he always pushed back.

---

Walking across, Lucas would find a glance at Calliope, who was currently in the trenches with Ikret. He tended to keep out of the beefs of Gods, and their relations. That wasn't his sorta game.

“Oh you see, you’re wrong there. How are you supposed to get an invite to the after party if you aren’t at the party?” Ikret smiled, all teeth with their slightly too sharp edges. “I’m not here for anyone, everyone is here for me.” She winked, not quite defining if she was joking or not.

@Ezekiel

Calliope seemed the usual amount of disgusted she could be, trading social punches with the rather brave Egyptian demi-goddess. Like any good cross-pantheon antics, she had her feelings.

"You come back different every time, and yet, you don't learn. Careful not to overinflate your head. Or is this as good as it gets?" Calliope was blunt back to her last comment, a dry chuckle forming, somehow still impressed by how little the Egyptian seemed to care.

"It is a good after party though. Blazer is coming. But after your antics.....I imagine you'll need to use all of that famous charm of yours to get in. The road back is a longer one than the one that you took leaving." Calliope's words were veiled, yet more direct, the Muse putting silver straight to tongue with that tone.

Watching her part, Ikret was already off to catch Lady Liberty, Calliope herself feeling her heart thrum a little seeing Blackstar. Something about her was odd. Something strange. Like the harmony in her head was all over the place. She wasn't a mindreader, but that aura, that feeling of people when they spoke, she could pick them apart. Calliope looked at Lucas, with a resounding sigh, before looking at Lady Liberty.

Who speaking of...

"This is, uh -- this is my first hero job," she replied after another brief pause, choosing to take that as the question Liberty had been asking. The gold chain of the bracelet was digging into her skin. "I haven't been anywhere else. Oh -- I mean, I did a little, um, promo? Practice? In some of the northern counties. Shasta, El Dorado."

@cosmiccowgirl

Lady Liberty smiled back, as if to magnify that awkwardness, the copper-haired heroine not backing down on socialising.

"Well, You take to it as a natural if you went from Shasta to Claremont and did....this. I suppose I see a bit of myself in you." She smiled, not revealing her own path, while knowing that she could tell that Blackstar was still terrified. A glance at Calliope all but confirmed it, because that Greek Muse could read people like the thousands of songbooks she'd gone through, watching Calliope glance a look with Technocrat, having wrapped up things with the other two Claremont heroes.

But Liberty didn't seem to too obviously hint at it, replying back, still wanting to engage. Prod a little. But ultimately, reassure. Blackstar was a normal person, not some freak from another planet, that at least was Liberty's read of it. She wasn't sure if that would have made her feel better, but then again, Blackstar was also, really nice.

"I guess it's new to you, so yeah, keep it up. And Lightning Girl is a good as a lead for the branch goes. But word to the wise. She ain't putting up your numbers. You do you if it works." Liberty seemed genuine, but that advice in itself, well, that would strike deep at the heart of Blackstar. LG was not around to hear nor see that, still chatting to Quickdraw, laughing at one of his jokes, clearly, absolutely, getting on like a house on fire. And speaking of fire here, Ikret decided to pull Blackstar out of hers...

“Liberty! If it isn’t the second best rack in the room.” Ikra beamed with enthusiasm that was all Hollywood glamour and not much sincerity.

@Ezekiel

Lady Liberty folded her arms under said rack, turning her head, the Americana-like heroine glancing up at the figure she didn't quite expect to see here. She had of course, always been here, but fate had been cruel to someone she'd trusted back in Central.

"Ikret. I didn't think they'd have you back." A grin formed on her face. "I'll have you know that Vogue think it is the best rack in America. That's all that matters, honey." She licked her lip and gave a grin, coming up close to Blackstar, as if to keep on that quasi-mentoring look, still on Blackstar, despite Ikret's best attempts. Her charisma was good, but Liberty still had the last of what she wanted to chat about.

@cosmiccowgirl

"See, this is what I mean. You build up the confidence with time, like her. Who knows how good you'll be then, so long as you don't make deals with the wrong people...." The jab was pointed at Ikret even if it was for Blackstar, and it was a little clear that Liberty had that edge on her, right when she needed it. She was friendly, but there was that underlying feeling that she could absolutely turn people into goo if she felt like it, and well, that meant flexing back on Ikret. Fastlane passed on by, chuckling with only the hearty baritone a sprinter like him could have.

"Go easy on dem, Liberty. You seen Quickdraw? Dat ras is...."

Lucas would interrupt, the tech-focussed hero resting a hand against Fastlane, looking at his group in particular.

"Hey, you three, we're needed for the pre-brief. Blackstar's not taking your jobs, so quit trying to find out about her. I'll get Quickdraw." Technocrat's dry charm was perhaps veiled as to what was going on, though the implication seemed more of sarcasm, rather than actual cold-blooded corporatism. Though you had half the feeling he could do that at any point.

"And also, Claremont, you are all talking with the Muse when you go up. Best of luck. Don't say anything I wouldn't." He would leave with that utterance.

The Hollywood Six the team had met would drop back, away from where they had come over from, and in that moment, were left to it. There was no doubt Asteroid, Blackstar, and Ikret would have mixed opinions to that realisation, being left as a three to themselves, Technocrat / Lucas backing away as quickly as he had arrived with that bombshell.

---

Revolver

Walking across the crowds with Quickdraw, it seemed the Brit and the Texan had rather charmed each other. Lightning Girl had an arm around his, as James realised precisely what the fuck had gone down. Ah, that was why she was so smitten. And well, she'd gone off on her own galivant rather than socialise. Wanted her in with Hollywood....and she had found it. She wasn't stupid, that much James knew, but even so, he didn't think this would come about quite like this. She was grown up, sure, and mature, making her own calls, but this felt higher brow than any other fling. How many people must have fell for Quickdraw, how many fans did he have, and yet his sister just waltzes back?

And yet, James kicked his own ankle over that thought. Stranger things happened in the city of lights. And his sister, to her credit, was a charmer. Someone who actually liked this. James just tolerated as best as he could, as Lightning Girl came close in, out of the crowded noise, flute in hand.

"James, no need to make any introductions.....Quickdraw, this is James Speight. SDN Claremont's new dispatcher. My boss."

The two smiled, as if the charm that had happened was instant, whatever had happened away from it all. Quickdraw put out a hand, and James took it, speechless.

"So, you're their dispatcher. Damn. Lightning here was telling me it's all change in East LA since you turned up, dealt with some serious shit. Impressive." Quickdraw took the redhead dispatcher in, as James chuckled, just wondering about all of this.

It wasn't the first time Sophie had dated a hero, or, for that matter, had a one night stand. It wasn't going to be the last.

Lightning Girl....or Sophie.....well, her own person, and James did not get in the way of that. She'd ended up in situations where she needed help, and sometimes, in situations where she needed a hug. And in any case, being the older brother, James would like to ask what Quickdraw's intentions were, but part of him now understood that it was probably the poor guy, or girl dating that would be probably under Lightning Girl's spell. She was able to look after herself, and did not need some guy to tell her what she'd want. She knew what she liked. And while James would pull her out of the shit, James knew sometimes, she'd find that one time to pull him out of his mess too. Like the spare room he lived in. A different dynamic, sure, but they respected each other because of it.

Yet this time around, this was one of the Six. And James was realising, Sophie wasn't just excited to head to Hollywood because of getting in and networking....she'd found her in. And that was the six-shooter. He found the words eventually when he realised he had to keep his cover here, at this party in particular, and say nothing stupid.

"Yeah. Yeah, you could say that." James replied, as Lightning Girl chuckled, Quickdraw pulling away seeing that Liberty had her hand up, and wanted Quickdraw over.

"Quickdraw was just telling me about the work they get up to in Hollywood. And it's exciting! Meet and greets, meeting VIPs, it's super cool. And the after-party that is on too sounds like it might be pree-tee, awesome....." Lightning Girl beamed with her usual Britishisms, excited, fascinated, all high on his energy.

"Not for me. But, you two knock yourselves out." James replied, as Quickdraw looked bemused.

"Well, I ain't keen on...." Quickdraw would reply, as James corrected his Britishism.

"It's a phrase." James cleared his throat, realising he shouldn't confuse Quickdraw. And Lightning Girl was staring him down, as if to say 'do not fuck this up', the Texan jumping in first.

"Ah. Right......right. Two British people in East LA, huh. What are the odds...." Quickdraw observed, both siblings trying to avoid any more talk on that. For now.

It was getting more awkward, as Lightning Girl clutched him tight. Trying not to taze him.

"Oh, yeah it's crazy! But I guess since London we made a good team. And yeah, crazy that one thing led to another....here we are, working together again! It's such a small world isn't it!"

Quickdraw chuckled, sipping down the glass of Bourbon a little more, opting for that over a nice glass of champagne.

"Ain't that right. Listen, babe, I gotta run. Technocrat will kill me if I'm late. We'll talk about the after party. They'll have all eyes on you, Sparky. But me more than anyone. You are somethin' special." Quickdraw was like gooey Jack Daniel's as he walked away, giving a finger guns back, Sophie replying with a teethy smile, and a light chuckle, sneaking in a "You too!". Leaving a moment's quiet as she sighed, breathing out, finally back to earth, turning her head.

Lightning Girl and James would look at each other, the former with a "don't" , the latter with a....

"What the fu..."

And James's swear would be broken as Salem would turn up, a new figure, right in the midst of things, with Riley still observing.

Salem walked right up to the Claremont table, black dress shimmering in the ballroom lights. She sat down with feline grace and addressed the table with sarcastic enthusiasm. "Good evening, folks. I'm your security for the evening tonight. Salem. Starting tomorrow I'll be your partner in crime at Claremont. We'll be getting to know each other VERY well in the coming weeks."

Riley fought off a blush of embarrassment as he watched Lightning Girl give him a confused look. "New recruit for an experimental team I put together. None of the branches wanted her on Phoenix Program so I took her along with Tsunami and Brick. We're set to be returning to Claremont and resume working with all of you." As eyes around the table started looking his way, Riley offered a curt wave.

"It's like the cat-girl said. Some of you may have heard of me. I'm Riley Ryder and I'll be returning to assist with dispatching at Claremont. Tonight however my team is working Gala security. You've all met Tsunami. Meta-Man is around as well." Riley gestured to Tsunami as he spoke. "If Kat hasn't told any of you. She's like that. Needless to say, I've been briefed on your recent... escapades, and I'm proud of the work you've been able to do. We look forward to joining the team, and hopefully..." His gaze went back and forth between Tsunami and Salem before he continued, "We are going to try and move on from any past incidents and work together as a team."

He didn't expect much of a response, but it seemed like most of the table had either moved on or simply didn't care. He cleared his throat before raising a glass of champagne, "Corporate BS out of the way... We need to get back to work and we can get hammered when this gala is over!"

@RisingRobin

"You would think a bunch of supers would be all the security....safest place outside of a bank vault to be. You'd have to be an idiot to do something here with the cleverest, most talented, strongest people in the world. Keeps the job easy, right?" Lightning Girl chuckled, feeling that was a valid statement, James thinking less that it was valid. At least her and Tsunami weren't gonna kill each other. They didn't have much to say.

"Good to hear we're moving on. Welcome to the team. I would shake your hand, Salem but.....I know your game. Guess we'll have a new play when we go back in on Monday." James replied, showing he probably knew more than he liked to admit. Or at least, had access to a lot more files on heroes in the area, given his role as a Hero Consultant before all of this. Developing heroes meant knowing them. That was his power. And Excel, as Lightning Girl chatted more.

"Welcome to it. Guess our escapades got us here. Though, I ain't looking at clowns the same way again....anyway, good to meet you Salem. You probably know about me. I'll let the others introduce themselves." Lightning Girl tailed off, not wanting to dwell too much on that, letting the others, including Ikret, Blackstar, Asteroid and Hat Trick, return back to the table and occupy some limelight.

@RisingRobin@cosmiccowgirl@Ezekiel@SonnetNSunbeam@BigPapaBelial

---

Back Chatter

As the team introduced themselves to Salem, Riley and Tsunami, James would lean over the table, catching Sophie between manically chatting away to anyone and everyone that passed by.

"You got a second?" He asked Sophie, as Lightning Girl stared into the distance, seeing Quickdraw. Damn, what a figure he had....

James leaned forward, as Sophie muttered...

"Not now, if you're about to talk about Quickdraw, listen to me...." She seemed distracted, like she didn't want to hear it, and was thinking it was that.

"No, not that, it's serious. Someone's clo...." James tried to get out, as suddenly, the spotlights came on as the internals dimmed, and the stage was lit up. The applause grew as Valerie stepped in, and right on schedule, the Gala's presentation was underway.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the SDN California Gala! I'm Valerie Halliday, and with me, is Calliope, your host for the evening. In the....."

James would look over as Valerie would talk about SDN's achievements, the hard work of the branches, everything inbetween. The Governor attending tonight, the star studded heroes that had turned up, and everything inbetween. James wasn't interested. He leaned in close, muttering into Lightning Girl's ear.

"Someone clocked us." James uttered, as Sophie's eyebrow raised.

"You sure? What, like, who they think I am without a mask?" She said, muttering back, still not wanting to hear it.

"No, the other.....fucking, thing. Positive. Really strange."

"You sure you're not anxious, or had too many? Listen. I get it, lot of eyes on us. And you're being paranoid."

"I'm not fucking paranoid. I saw this weird guy say he knew about us.....trust me."

"Shit.....what did he look like?"

"Weird. Black hair. Didn't make him out because I was pissing at a urinal. Had a really fucking strange aura. Then said that." James was worried. Panicked even, as Sophie leaned in.

"There's a lot of people here. They won't try anything more, so we'll figure out who it was. And Salem's got enough aura about her, so has Calliope to mess with your mind. So has everyone here to fuck up anyone who is getting weird. We'll sort it but not right now." Sophie replied in confidence, though still worrying a little.

James wanted to say something more, say that the guy made his skin crawl. And they needed to be careful, tell Salem and her team what was up, but....

The spotlight turned to them. And Calliope's voice would hook everyone back into the room.

"We have so many heroes on our roster, but for tonight, let's talk about the heroes that saved hundreds of civilians at the recent Claremont Carnival, valiantly putting their lives on the line to protect others. We'd like to invite them to the stage first, to talk about what it's like being frontline heroes, and being the backbone of what makes SDN so great. Everybody, put your hands together for SDN Claremont's A Team!" Calliope's voice was enticing, as from that conversation, everyone would bolt to hearing it, and likely, follow on command to come on up.

Shit. James immediately thought this was way more than what Valerie had said. This wasn't a meet and greet. This was a grill. The A-Team might have known that, but bar Riley, Salem, Tsunami and Meta-Man, the team were about to be put up on stage.

The crowd would clap as the music played them in, and well, for some of the team, this was going to be the worst five minutes of their lives, for LG and Ikret, probably a pretty positive five minutes. Like stepping into an awards show, given the aura of what this part of the Gala entailed

Walking up, James glanced over his shoulder, and saw the guy. The black-slicked hair, bushy beard, it was hard to place, but he seemed like a Peaky Blinder, but even then, like he absolutely didn't fit the place. He was hiding in plain sight like Zach Galifrankis, but surely that wasn't how he remembered him.

But as they went on stage, the Governor, Valerie and Calliope there, the rest of the Six looking on from their table, it would have felt a bit like the crowd was a blur.

---

The Spotlight

Behind the stage, footage would play of what they did at that Carnival. Framed as significantly more noble. A significant amount less violent for certain, but heroic shots. Each of them curated to an inch of their life, showing off their best side. Maybe even one or two were edited.

It was strange. To almost everyone in that audience, the Six included, this was a peak, crowning moment, an example of heroes in the field in adversity, saving people. It was pure, perfect, the kind of thing any hero dreamed of.....and yet none of the A-Team ever wished they had seen.

For Sophie, it was a snap moment of hurt, that she had to bottle down and smile through, Lightning Girl of course being so brave, bolting the absolute shit out of a guy into a barrel. Calliope held the mic out, as the A-Team would be on stage, spotlights direct, crowd murmurs dying down.

Valerie would look at each and every one of them, a small grin on face, but more of a look of "do not fuck this up", even though in the public image, she could not give that away. It was a SDN-thing, to make people good look, after all, as Calliope walked on over, a mic to be put in front of each.

"What a team! We chatted to you earlier, and well, you are all rather impressive. Let's start with you, Lightning Girl. We saw how you dealt with the clowns as you came up to the stage! Tell us all, how did it feel responding to such a terrible event in the city?" Calliope would ask, Lightning Girl digging into that memory. As uncomfortable as it was, best to start things strong.

"Uhhh, yeah, it was a really tough day, but again, we just did what we all knew and followed our training. But so many other first responders were so helpful too, so we just did what we could to give them time. But yeah," She stammered, clearing her throat, "It's what we do. Saving lives.....keeping people safe, like we do in Claremont and beyond, everyday." She smiled, the marketing line holding nicely there. The Governor even smiled at that, which meant Valerie would be at the least, content.

That was enough, Soph. That was a nice, wordy, easy reply, the team can hide behind that answer, and most importantly, Valerie won't remove your lungs through your ass.

The penny would absolutely drop on Blackstar. It would likely fuse her apart, in this moment, with spotlights, as Calliope turned to her next. With that voice of hers, put on stage, the charisma would extract what it needed from each hero. It was an odd feeling. Calliope's voice was beautiful, but what it also was, would be extractive. Depending on your outlook, of course, it required a suggestive mind, but like a siren on a rock, it would make you focus.

@cosmiccowgirl

"Thank you. Blackstar, you've recently joined the Claremont team, and wowed the SDN leaderboards. Tell us, as one of SDN's up and coming heroes in LA, how do you feel like you're making a difference in the community?"

James piped up. He could tell, Blackstar was terrified. He was just angry at himself, why the fuck did he not just tell Valerie not to bring her up on stage? Why on earth did she come in the first place? Couldn't they deploy her? The answer, no, Blackstar was now more vital than him, and realistically, he was too busy. In his haste, he'd missed people. Misread something. Fucked up.

So here he was, doing something now. In front of maybe a crowd of a hundred.

"She's still getting used to all of this, yeah she's...."

Valerie would clear her throat, and looked at Blackstar to reply. She was not getting a cop out.

@SonnetNSunbeam

"Asteroid, you're also proving yourself in Claremont. For those who don't know, tell us, what's the SDN Phoenix Programme, and what's it like for your future prospects, putting your powers to good rather than villainy?"

Valerie would stare quite intently at Asteroid on this one. She wasn't actually that happy that Calliope had gone off script. But Calliope was choosing to scalpel more than what was agreed, but if that was the way it was, Asteroid had to answer. Calliope's ability to force truth was not being applied, but in other ways, it felt rogue.

It felt like with responses on each, it would move smoothly in the next.

@BigPapaBelial

"Hat Trick, you're not just a hero but one of the team's Social Media liaisons, bringing the team to our attention. What's SDN like in giving you new opportunities alongside hero work?"

And last but not least, Calliope knowing she was impatient, had left her to last. Like a real bitch. Ikret.

@Ezekiel

"Ikret, we heard about the plane rescue this morning! I guess SDN offers a place for a diverse group of heroes, including old-timers like us!" Calliope was making an old-person joke, with a few laughs in the crowd who may have known the meta. "How does eastern LA compare to DTLA?" Now that one was a harsher point.

The pointed focus was on those on stage, and for now, the forum-like / interview like format was a smaller piece of a larger show, to really demonstrate and flex SDN's capabilities. So that the Governor and powers that be would like them, find a humanised, impromptu, normal set of heroes to relate to.

As normal as the A-Team could be, for a bunch of superpowered individuals.

---

Interloper

@RisingRobin

But beyond the spotlights, another social occasion was being played.

This was a message. A point to prove. And unlike other villains, he didn't really have to make it all about him. No pomp and circumstance. Just a reminder of the people flying a little too close to him, that he had the upper hand. Plant the seed, sow the discord, let the weed root all in. Then rip all of it apart, back to size.

And yet, he was in plain view. He was surprised the running order had changed. But unsurprised now everything had worked now he had gotten in.

And in the ears of Salem and Riley, perhaps Tsunami and Meta-Man depending on where they were, likely watching on as the Claremont A-Team would be on stage, someone else had been watching, as she fumbled out of the toilets. Headset back in, Black Rose could already feel something was up. Clock this, after puking up her guts.

"Salem, Riley, if you're hearing me, we have a problem. Security breach, left side of the crowd. Black hair, Caucasian, beard. Not on list. Wearing a white dress shirt and black tie. We need him gone, ASAP. Grab and escort him out to the entrance. Leave him for me to deal with. Do it without raising too much attention." The tone of Black Rose would be strange to hear, given she wasn't on security, but despite the best efforts to disorient and confuse her, coming back out of the toilets from being sick had made her clock a face in the crowd she was certain she didn't recognise. And from walking around, eavesdropping, doing her thing, it had started to come together. What the man's play was, she wasn't sure, but it had to go down without drama.

"Definitely not a hero. Watch yourselves." Her tone turned to granite, knowing that while it wasn't her job, her eye for details, from a lifetime of spying and hunting, meant she knew how to find a spider of her own. Counter-espionage. And this one, even by her standards, had done a hell of a job in getting this far. He must have been brave, or incredibly stupid. Or, had an endgame planned.

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

Day 2: 06:54:32
Stolen Apartment
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Rowan: “Okay. Is everyone ready?”

@LadyAmber

Oksana eyed up the team, looking across.

"I'd say so. Where's your car?" She asked the other witch, glad she'd joined her in the market to shop for goods, having little to say in there. Rowan was good people. Oksana had nothing much to reveal, add, or show. She just hoped Rowan would get a happy ending. She deserved one. Woman was crazy, but, so was she, Oksana reasoned. Nothing normal about having arcane powers and the ability to kick doors in. She rolled up her sleeves, a bit warm inside the flat while wearing this fancy coat.

"I suppose Borys has numberplates. Ey, you drunk fuck, time to go." Oksana would say, giving the man a nudge, given that Felix falling off and coming back to his usual self hadn't worked.

"Fine fine. We'd best be careful." HE looks around the room, "Anyone need a touch up?" He flexes his fists his knuckle dusters glowing, and grins wickedly.

@BigPapaBelial

Felix gives a shrug.

"Apart from my sense of humour. And him." He pointed out Borys once again, who was coming back to things slower. Since then though, Upswing had been quieter, given his own space. The guy had been kept to himself, and outside of their little chat earlier, hadn't had much to say. Felix appreciated Silas, he was to the point, helpful, and more than importantly, had saved his life when he was riddled with bullets. That whole act of his took a lot of work usually, so, given he wasn't dead, Felix owed him that at least.

He reaches for his coat pocket and retrieves a pair of black-rimmed metal glasses, putting them on to complete the look. When he speaks again, all traces of his heavy accent are gone; in its place is the smooth, posh tones of a highborn Briton as he extends a hand to shake. “My name is Victor James Pettigrew; I’m your friendly advisor at Bank of the DSR, Novy Jork. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I interest you in any of our investment plans, or would you like to play it safer and entrust your money to our hedge fund?”

When the joke goes over in silence, Upswing laughs, high, genuine, probably. “Relax, darlings; I’m only enjoying myself. Felix, you poor, ironically-named sot, I am at your beck and call.”

@Tank O The Lake

Felix looked skew at him, with a smirk on his face, wondering just how many times Upswing had pulled that.

"I believe you. Half the illusion is convincing the world that you don't exist, other half is creativity. I suppose they won't ask questions.." Felix chuckled, grabbing the raincoat, looking to Upswing as Oksana cut across.

"Ex-Special Forces. And an illusionist. I can't see quite what you do next given you'd already hide better. And literally I cannot visualise you. That unsettles me....and seems to be your trick." She set the rest of her gear up, putting a hand out.

"I'm Roxie Dylatowa. Ex-Reactor too. Seer. Same page as you I suppose, making sure Manticore doesn't fall into the wrong hands sounds like a way to go. From what Rowan said, it sounds like it really can fuck people up. What the PSA want with it, confuses me. Once we get clear of this mess, including getting her away from it." She stated, as if she was trying to still work this out in her head, but not quite getting there with answers.

Felix chuckled, looking across.

"Watcher-Witch. Upswing. Shotgun Mage. Toxic woman. Shovel Kalash. We are nearly at the end. Let's move." Felix was sleep deprived, hurt, and most of all, done, wanting to truly get the fuck out of Polavia now. It would be with that, the team would wrap up their business. Pack up their equipment into duffel bags, and once again, get moving. Heading into the drizzly evening, they would be seeing the previously sunny city return to a usual gloom, chimneys still pouring out dark soot in the distance, and the blocks quietening as workers returned for the night.

---

Act Two: Regroup

Part Four: Money Talks, Bullshit Walks

Day 2: 19:42:01
The Grand Polavian Hotel
Stary Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

The rain would pick up, a gentle patter against the windows of the Mercedes. The cobbled streets of Stary Grad were beautiful, a tram dinging by as it clattered on the old stone road, other cars, old and new, darting through the lights and puddles of a teeming city. The city was a pretty place to be, well, if you squinted at this particular bit, neon lighting still up advertising everything from vodka, cigarettes, gambling, clothing stores, and new western banks and insurance companies.

The music gently poured from the radio, a bleak tune for a bleak place.

Arriving at the hotel, the valet at the front would catch sight of the Merc, and with a hand out, approached the driver's door, where Rowan would be.

"Everyone stay cool." Felix said, as Oksana rolled her eyes.

"No shit. I'll talk. You sit there and look stupid. Pavel has to be here, but it will cost us. Worth the price. Everyone, keep an eye out on the lobby. Tell me if you see anyone or anything weird." Roxie felt like there was too much obvious dad-leading from Felix going on today, especially with all the crap with Rowan.

Everyone was pissed, angry, and annoyed. It felt like the team were at an end with each other, but then again, a fragile alliance like this came with everyone's reasons to get the hell out of here. They wanted escape not to stay. They were each others' best hope, but that felt like still a poor ending to say the least.

The valet would come up to the window, knocking to open at Rowan.
"I can take it from here, Miss." He opened the door, as Felix and Oksana didn't really stop to let the valet do it for them, clambering out onto cobbles. The latter in her wool coat concealing a folded up AS VAL, pistol and, the former carrying a couple of duffels under his technical looking grey raincoat jacket, making enough room for Upswing to follow behind him from the middle seat, dressed smart. Borys would be able to emerge from the front passenger seat, while Rowan would be able to leave their stolen Merc with a valet, for a later pickup.

Walking inside, the group were quite a range. In varying degrees of formality, custom, they would walk up the marble steps of The Grand Polavian Hotel, the finest hotel of the capital. The one bit that the Party hadn't totally stripped out, because this was for diplomats, foreign dignataries, and others to visit. It was beautiful, the floors and walls covered in marble, but it felt like it was aging. A tired beauty, rather than a polished kind of gemstone.

Clearing her throat, Oksana walked to the reception desk, pointy hat in left hand, high-buttoned wool coat still on, Felix keeping an eye behind, his cargo pants and waterproof coat combo not really as formal, or as pleasant. Then again, he wasn't expecting to dress smart.

"Welcome to the Grand Polavian. How can we assist you?" The receptionist was not so cheerful. She was almost administrative, clerical. Not welcoming, warm, it was Polavian hospitality. Cold, but functional.

"Five rooms please. Standard rate." Oksana uttered as if she was confident, like she did this all the time. Shit, this was going to be expensive. But an appointment with Pavel was worth the price of admission.

"Fine. Passports, please." The receptionist's dead eyes stared back, as Oksana slid across quite a few more DSR dollars than were needed to underline that it wasn't a check that she wanted.

"We're on rather special business."

"You are witches and wizards on business. You better not be Albani. I have had enough trouble with you people." The receptionist grunted, taking the money, as Oksana kept eyes on her. That slur got thrown a lot. But then again, it came with being a druid and with the cuff of her neck on her woolen coat revealing tattoos of butterflies emerging from her collarbone. Enough to show, Oksana knew that much, to show it was maybe best not to fuck with them too much. Oksana could see that part of her demeanour coming from a mile away, as she let the staff member sort keys, leaning forwards.

"We're looking for Pavel Baltyk."

The receptionist looked oddly at her, as if this was already getting into a bad idea.

"Sorry, I can't say if I know him."

Sliding a polaroid across the desk, Oksana looked to her, seering less, witching more. A bit of Rowan and Upswing's book was needed, she decided.

"Would this help jog your mind? I really need to see him." The receptionist grunted as she took the polaroid, and oddly, her tone seemed to shift. Chromatically placed truth serum. It made her drool a little, but the black polaroid with nothing on it made her spit out what she remembered about the man.

Rowan wasn't the only one with tricks up her sleeve. Oksana had gotten a little bit of some truth serum blended with mushroom cap resin, brewed it with old film reel, and it basically worked a treat if you needed someone to spit out something they didn't want to, from a suggestive manner. It was a trick Upswing likely knew, and perhaps an easy one to pull information where needed.

"He is returning in ten minutes. Room 404." The reply was almost the same brand of monotone, but as Oksana took the keys and Polaroid, she smiled, checking that their rooms were on the 3rd floor. Pavel had one of the penthouses. Lucky bastard. With that in hand, she threw the keys at the group, at least, passing it into the hand of Borys - noting it would be a poor idea to throw things at a drunk person - and with it, looking up at the group.

"He's here. Should be here soon. No point going to rooms yet. We can wait for him to arrive." Roxie replied, as Felix looked across at where they could kill said time.

The bar area was very pleasant, and a pianist was playing, adding to a gentle lounge atmosphere. It was serene, easy, simple, versus what the reality was next. Getting in contact with Polavia's top counterfeiter, getting papers, and leaving. It wasn't over quite yet, but it would feel like the beginning of the end.

"Do you know what he looks like?" Felix asked, as Roxie nodded.

"He's Pale Pavel. Albino looking bastard like him? Wears white Puma and has a white beard. Strange looking fucker. You don't forget a face like him. Wizard with detail. Like Upswing, if he did passports." Roxie chuckled, walking as they headed into the bar, surrounded by businessmen, and various visitors, some foreign, all bar Upswing a little less the clientele of this sort of establishment. Dropping off duffels at the bar, abd taking a moment.

"Would you look at that. They have Polavian Standard. Cheeky round?" Felix darkly commented, as Roxie looked. Thinking back to earlier. They hadn't gouged the price yet....

"Fuck it. One for the road. Here's to the end." Roxie added, looking to the others.

"What are you getting?"

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

Backstop

Simon Calder looked across as he settled into the interview room, hands on knees, the veteran Silver Apex engineer aware the question coming was not an easy one. Not even with prep. But a valuable part of the story to be told, and well, not one that he could exactly keep running from.

"Was it hard to deal with what happened in Jordan?"

The look of the designer was one of disappointment, regrets, but more than anything, just an inability even now to explain any of it.

Because he couldn't say just what some suspicions were internally. So it was political for now.

"It was a technical setback. But I suppose FIAR and us disagree on the rulebook."

---

Round 18 of Formula AG
Sunday 19th of November
Race Day

Wadi Rum AG Circuit,
Wadi Rum,
Jordan,
Arabic Union

1500 Arabic Time

Against the Grain

Soundtrack: Noisia, The Upbeats- Halcyon

The ships sat on the grid, the sound of anti-gravity generators giving a dull, general whine, pilots linked in, data fed, engineers at the pit wall looking through streams and streams of everything, from pilot diagnostics, limbs, ship temperatures, and models of the right ELS strategies, all on a whim, yet decided executively by the pilot. Formula AG could have been set to AI, but it was the human factor that made it matter. Pushing the human body. Superhumans, like gladiators, fighting over things more important than life or death. Victory or defeat. And in the shifting sands, the golden sunshine above in the gentle heat of the Wadi Rum desert, the drones cleared, and the ships were readied.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

And everything launched, dust blasted away from the sandy metal MAG-like surface on the start-finish, as the ships screamed into speed.

"Kelly and Ward have had great starts, Villarosa is falling down the standings and....wow, what a run there from Mulder! He has found his way through that crowd of Zygon, all going on!" Rory opened up in a flurry, cameras all eyes on the two women at the front, Rosie pitching in...

"Certainly, and well, we knew the Carrera and Southern Cross ships would be.....oh wow, what a move there from Ward!"

The race would hotten up, as Carrera's other ship fell down the standings through a mistake into the canyon following a very aggressive move by Amy, shuffling the order, and opening up more opportunities for Paul and Dorian in particular. At the back of a ERS train, they were able to make moves in chaos, embracing their strength over the weaknesses over other ships- even where the track should have blown them away. Quietly, Dorian Paul would be able to carve past Jenny, Ava, and then get into a thrilling fight with Han, whose ship was faster, but Paul could outplay in ELS and strategy. Dorian had carved ahead to make that happen- having an all-timer of a race with a risky setup that he'd opted for, and well, that was now paying a dividend.

"Unreal stuff there from both the Valkyrie pilots, nobody could see that coming! Mulder when we go on board with him has so little in his ship, but he seems to be fighting with Han so tight, just finding those tenths out of corners and on energy deployment that Zygon ship can't deliver, what a race he is having, but give it up to Dorian Hornfleur, 39 this month and barely showing his age!" Rosie would excitedly comment, this certainly being a hell of a race for Paul- once again, at a circuit he absolutely should have had no chance on. This was clearly coming through from a lot of luck, helped by the mistake from Ava bunching the pack up, but once he had the ability to get in the mix, ELS leeching and playing off the chaos behind him would give him the chance to hold onto a points-scoring position.

However, the luck wasn't so great for one other pilot, further back, as the race had a VSC, right as it hit an apex, the camera panning to an aurora-coloured Nordic Call ship being overtaken, her charge up to 10th in the chaos marred.

"Ah, that is devastating to see! Bellatrix Olympus, so far the new star of Nordic Call, seems to have an engine fault! That is quite a big engine fire, what a massive shame!" Rosie commented, noting that thanks to all the safety and marshalls, she would be able to escape the burning fireball of her now-shut down ship, and get away before it would eat almost half the chassis away. Without self-repairing nanites in the grid this year, at least on the structural level, ships and fire did not mix, and certainly would take more work to fix.

But things were not quite over. Amy would get a position up on Harrison, her elite piloting skills making it count in the twisties, the white-silver Silver Apex ship screaming with ELS on full lock as he would be fooled by her pincering in, finding each and every corner, maximising the ship yet not finding a way to get back up to the front two.

But the front two had continued to fight, both putting up elite performances, but once again, Beatrix Ward being the absolute cream of the crop. It wasn't a victory by small margins, it was dominance, the kind that would silence the critics of the last race being a fluke, and her inconsistency prior. It seemed like each of the rookies had their strengths, their weaknesses, where they came alive the most. Where it looked like if Paul Mulder thrived on consistency and a deeply cerebral approach to racing, Kais in absolute aggression and a warrior-like approach to ship-on-ship combat, Nora Kelly in taming a fire-breathingly aggressive, fragile ship to zip through corners, even Bellatrix in just whispering a poor ship into results, then Beatrix was beginning to bring all of those individual elements together.

Coming across the line, that narrative would be the photo in itself of the Carrera ship winning, followed by Southern Cross's new star.

"What a result! Beatrix Ward there, with an exceptional race, followed by Nora Kelly!"

"Wow, it really seems like she has hit a vein of form. Something about that ship, something about her, we all would have put our money on Nora to hold her first place, but Ward is just tantalising to watch. Carrera must be feeling good about keeping her now, what a pilot!"

"Well, it seems like all that bravery is paying off, and Beatrix Ward will be grinning ear to ear, as we go to her live comms now...."

And no doubt, she would fill that silence with plenty of noises, as Rory would chuckle, cutting back to the other ships.

"Amy Stirling and Makara pick up third and fourth, and then, a solid result from Zenix, who may be feeling hard done by, and....wow, Hornfleur has stayed ahead of Atlassi into the last run, and....clinches sixth! What a race from him, followed by Atlassi, Mulder, who has really delivered, and Han and Villarosa who make up the rest. What a race, and what have we seen!"

"Certainly Rory, that was quite a decisive race. I imagine that wasn't quite enough for Nora Kelly, who must be gutted with losing out to Ward. That must be a title for Amy Stirling surely?"

"Well, mathematically, anything is still possible, but it seems all but over. What a race, even at the end of the season, and we'll soon hear from the pilots."

The Carrera team would no doubt be screaming, disappointed that Ava had not picked up pace, but no doubt, thrilled with Bea's result. Valkyrie would likely feel the same, limiting the damage that Zygon absolutely seemed poised to give, and the lack of points at MMR kept Nordic Call from thinking about any shocks. But as races went, it delivered a wider showcase, and a good test of absolute speed on the last open-air circuit, before the city-based races followed.

---

Jordan- Cooldown Room

Sitting in the cooldown room, Bea and Nora would get to watch back their battle, through the massive straights and up the giant mesa-like mountain, and winding out into the canyon, constantly at odds, pushing each other harder and harder, one always leeching the other back.

Nora looked across, a smile on her face at just how Bea was making moves, gutted yet still impressed that finally, someone was putting it on the line as much as her. She sighing as she sipped down water, looking past Bea at the empty chair, trying to put out of mind the fact that it wasn't a win for her. That would have been it. A chance to bring the points back in against Amy, but that was all but lost now.

But she wasn't here. Not to enjoy Bea's resurgence, not to take her victory lap.

"Why's Amy not here?" The Australian asked, the punk-esque pilot looking over to Bea, knowing cameras were on them. She didn't want to say much more, as an official came on by, ushering the group towards the tunnel, as per usual.

But there were only two, not three of them. It was strange, as Amy's name wasn't mentioned. But the feeling would start to build something was up. Something was going on, because she hadn't left scrutineering for quite some time.

The podium ceremony went on as planned, but the third step was mysteriously empty.

---

Delta Hyper Interviews

Aurora would be out with her microphone at the booth, once again, grabbing pilots, after all was said and done. Amy and Jenny were under investigation, some sort of technical reasons, but nothing had come up. All other pilots had been through scrutineering, all of them having to go even after the podium ceremony, which seemed extremely odd. But still, media needed to be talked to, and in the chaos of it, Delta Hyper was still doing their job.

"Bea, excellent performance today, you must be so happy with that win! Looks like Nora has almost pushed you to find a new level in the last two races, is this a sign of things to come next year?"

"Paul, an excellent performance from you, carving past a Silver Apex ship and both Zygon ships. Were both yourself and Dorian perhaps got a little lucky there, or do you think you made your own luck, despite a disadvantage on the straights?"

"Bellatrix, what a shame about that mechanical failure, it looked like quite a scary engine fire! How are you feeling? It looks like you were onto nearly getting into points?"

As Delta Hyper went to start interviewing other pilots, Rosie was ushered away by a member of security, and strangely, the other pilots would not be attending.

There were much bigger fish to fry, and it seemed like someone else had decided to take ownership of the situation. It was chaos. And the pilots would likely return to their respective team areas, confused as anyone as to what on earth was going on.

---

Hammer Down

1700 Arabic Time

The photography bulbed, as the FIAR officials sat inside the hastily assembled press room, not quite having to anticipate the results of a scandal like this landing.

The data provided to Royston had been investigated, and when matched to the post-race scrutineering of ships and pilots, matched all of the worst case scenarios that FIAR had been mapping out. And well, shy of more punitive measures, something in the interim had to be put in place now. Something that would unfurl one of the greatest scandals in modern Formula AG, breaking perhaps one of the most fundamental of rules. Not in engine fuel flow, aerodynamics, even illegal prosthetics, but in the part almost held sacred. The bit that nobody wanted to really talk about.

"Following investigation, the discovery of systemic neural link modifications has led us to take drastic action. The interface between pilot and ship has breached acceptable levels under our testing. Neural link abuse has no place in the sport, and this requires the harshest sanctions." The official commented, the French-accented man speaking into the microphone in front of his desk.

"Silverstone Apex Racing Team is set to be suspended from this season's constructor championship, with immediate effect. Recognising the pilots of the team were not aware, we have permitted the pilots' standings to retain their points, subject to further review of the whole season. However, we recognise that at Jordan in particular, the neural tests were in breach and not compliant with FIAR regulations, and FIAR's Ethical Guidelines. The points of Amy Stirling, and Jennifer Lowry for Round 18 have been therefore been rescinded, with no right of appeal, and are subject to retesting prior to any future involvement." The official added, as photography intensified, the tablet back in hand as he could hear the clamour of journalists yelling over each other, each with a million and one questions.

"All Formula AG pilots will be subject to further tests around any race sessions. We will not be taking any further questions at this time."

More photography, more angst, more questions anyway.

There was no doubt an anger would be felt that the pilots were allowed to still race. A livid, tacit feeling, but as one of the largest sports in the world, the equivalent of a major doping scandal had to be quashed here and now, before it killed interest and appetite for the sport.

Let alone for competitors, who no doubt, felt their own anxiety over the news. Ripping out the neural link simply wasn't an option to pilots. It was intrinsic, and fundamentally connected to all of their biomodifications, implants and augments, let alone the fact it was required to fly a ship like this at speed. Walking away may have been tempting, but FIAR had made the results clear after other pilots had been taken through scrutineering- they didn't think the problem had been widespread at any other team.

For now, this seemed an anomaly, one FIAR sought to crush, but everyone would have a little worry about.

Race Results for Jordan:

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

---

Out of Body

Soundtrack: Moby- Everloving (Reprise Version)

Cameras flooded upon Amy as she left the scrutineering area, as she pushed a reporter aside, pushing her way through the crowd, trying to make it back inside the trailer in Silver Apex's area, flanked by security that kept any prying eyes off her. They would leave her at the entry to her motorhome, as what was left of Amy Stirling couldn't lash out, but could only make her way back to the bathtub and pile in the ice. Go back. Pull away.

She was unsure of what exactly to do. A machine without direction, without purpose. Blocked by walls, unable to see beyond what had happened, unable to just tap into something, someone else. This version of her loop, wanting to leave. Wanting to replan. Reprogramme.

Inside the trailer, she walked into the office of Peter Thatcher, a scowl on her face, wanting to play this out with all the fury in the world Amy Stirling would have if she had to deal with this.

Peter was not there. Someone else was.

The Egyptian turned, and Amy froze, pinned on the spot as the tazer-like electrical device in his hand killswitched her legs and arms, making it easy to clear the distance, and pin the shard into her neck.

"Layla sends her regards."

---

The phone would buzz in Bellatrix's room, as the pilot would likely come back from the extra scrutineering, the buzz of a phone with a message recorded from a veteran, ex-champion pilot.

"Hey, Bellatrix, it's Florence Mason. Look, I know lots is going on at the moment. Are you free to talk when we get to Istanbul? It's about the whole situation at the moment."

---

Another message would buzz up on Alexander's desk, no doubt in response to everything. Johanna. Again, overidding the CEO at Valkyrie, taking matters into her own hands. This stopped being a matter for a racing team, this was now a matter for powers far, far beyond.

"Saw the news. Scrutiny will pick up around us, and around your daughter, watch yourself. Could have told me first, Alexander, before this all went out. Both Paul and Dorian aren't going to like the checks- look after them."

---

Sun 19/10/94 Formula AG Pilot Group Chat

Cassie Neves

Are we not going to talk about the giant fucking elephant in the room? Like, is this chat just going to sit here silent? After we all got a load more scrutineering?

Harrison

Yeah that allegation is worrying. Cannot believe it. Can't believe we got held around for another six hours.

Astrid

Told you that Amy was a bot.

Glad we kicked her and Jen out of the group. Is she coming back?

Anyone know what the extent of it is?

Wedge

You are fucking cold Astrid lol

no idea, but I heard it was suspension until they get to the bottom of it

and no idea

Dorian

Well someone wins a championship if she doesn't.....doesn't sit well with me. Nora deserves that but even then, feels like the worst scandal I've seen.

I booted Jenny out, I feel sorry for her, she's brand new.

@Wedge Standard protocol. We did it with Jamie and Layla

Ava Villarosa

@Cassie Neves agreed. This is terrifying.

Astrid

bet you know something Ava

Cassie Neves

@Astrid

No, fuck off. Ava and Nora nearly died and if in any way this is connected, this is gonna make me snap. I'm willing to get as much chrome as anyone, we all are. Neural link interfacing past safeguards? No way. At that point, Amy is basically more ship than person. Are you out of your mind? In fact, is that what happened to Layla? @Kais?

Wedge

Woah Cass chill

Florence

Listen, they didn't know. Don't blame them, they're suspended until further investigation. We can't comment, otherwise the rest of us are going to get screwed. Last thing I want is ending up getting a lot more restrictions that just make it shit to compete. Intrusive testing is messy. It hurts a lot. That's what I'm scared of.

Cassie Neves

Says the person from fucking Silver Apex! Florence I knew you were a fucking snitch, you surely had to know? Unless you're a bot too?

Kofi

Florence isn't, even if she races like one, but seriously- agree with you Cassie, we need to be united on that. We can't get divided here.

Florence- what did you mean?

Dorian

Guys chill out

Florence definitely isn't she has a kid, cmon

Hamid

eyyy Cassie that is unfair, don't go after Kais like that.

Layla has nothing to do with this. Far as I know, she retired of her own volition- she's really private outside of racing. Saw it as a way to get into post-humanism.

Cassie Neves

No, she wasn't. I didn't agree with Layla at all but she wasn't ever like that, ever, and you're talking out of your arse because you're paid that way. Is everyone here going mental because all of this is bullshit?

Astrid

ngl we all are but you're the only one throwing shit at everyone

we have no way of knowing anything until the results come back in and far as they said, Silver Apex tampered with them in a way that's nearly impossible

Also, you literally are at Zygon

when did you grow a spine, or switch personalities? do they offer that now?

Harrison

Cassie has a point, didn't know her well but Layla wouldn't have quit, Jordan felt pretty empty without her, not gonna lie, not my place but she'd have loved it (sorry Hamid). Not seeing her at all is weird. Miss that weird Jordanian.

Kofi

everyone calm

Florence

@Kofi

On that earlier comment- intrusive neural testing is awful. It basically starts to poke around at where the neural link bonds to synapses past motor functions in the temporal lobe (memory) and is very painful. Did it when Silver Apex was rolling in a new interface platform (the one that usually does all of your body's biomonitoring / diagnostics, and hurt the worst when you had it installed). Many of you wouldn't have had it because it doesn't normally happen now in modern systems as it latches to the back of your brain and wires up neurons to it, rather than deep in. Really not looking forward to it. Don't agree with anyone tampering at all, but FIAR are going to open a can of worms. Especially if you have artificial limbs, it's artificed through your temporal lobe too, then it's even worse. Like the worst migraine you've ever had with pins and needles. Feels like you're being pulled out of your own body.

Ava Villarosa

Shit. @Bea, can we catch up?

I'm worried about Amy tapping into other pilots. @Cassie Neves and @Harrison are right...

There is no way it's just Amy. Too much noise around. Some corporate is going to adore this tech. It's way too dangerous.

Cassie Neves

@Ava Villarosa you were asking around half the grid with @Kais and now you're wondering if it's anyone else? shit I wonder how Carrera got so good, especially when Bea is friends with Amy, you couldn't even see it inside

@Bea you really need to come clean. Tell us what is going on, because you're the only person it seems like who knows her. Beginning to think I made the right call.

actually now I think about it that makes a lot of sense, guess you weren't drinking the juice @Ava Villarosa

Ava Villarosa

oh fuck you, you saw the facility, puta de hijo, don't DARE say that about us.

Bea can answer for herself. You're full of shit, they'll do worse to you in Seoul. You wanted to leave, you think they reward disloyalty? Or are you projecting?

Ben Hale

Wait Cassie nearly went to Carrera?

Astrid

this is a mess

Dorian

Everyone- they'll get to the bottom of it.

We're all paranoid right now. We don't know what FIAR will do. Whatever it is, it's for the safety of pilots, and they'll know all of this. If we fight among ourselves, it'll fall apart if any of us speak up to media, for much worse. You all know that the ships don't work without them, and it goes both ways. FIAR have to find a way to make this work and they can't replace us.

Right now, our neural links are safe, unless anyone in any way has tampered with them in their teams. Tens of millions of people use it and ours are the most scrutinised, so this is an anomaly. Me and Kofi have got a Pilots Rep meeting with them later.

Recommend we don't talk about this and wait this out. Nobody do anything stupid. Any panic and Florence is right, they could get worse.

Glad I'm leaving though. This is insane.

Wedge

Hopefully this gets dealt with!

Cassie Neves

@Wedge admire your optimism

@Ava Villarosa sorry if trust is in short supply but I don't buy anything I hear anymore

@Dorian did you know something about this?

Astrid

amy not winning the title because she's a bot was not on my bingo card

Florence

@Cassie chill the fuck out, don't throw anything at Dorian.

Dorian

nothing my end

---

@Starlance

20/11 21:21 Amy [Batt: 3%]

"Bea, I'm really, really confused. I just woke up and I'm in the middle of the desert. Last thing I remember is talking to you with a version of my consciousness I ported over. Where the fuck am I?"

"Why is it November and why are we in Jordan? Did something happen? oh god it did didn't it"

"None of my neural stuff is working....limbs are ok but everything feels hazy. I have to type on my phone for some reason....."

"please help? could you pick me up at least or get the team to get me? Actually, could it be you? please don't tell me worst case happened.....if it did I just sent you a ping to where I am. There's a big stone arch near me."

"where's Jamie? Did he get replaced? is he even alive? shit, battery is low gonna shut up, we need to talk"

"why am I out of the group chat?"

Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont

Friday
18:59
The Grand Cayman Hotel,
Hollywood, Los Angeles

Diamond Hands

Sophie would blush at the comment that Alaine made, wanting to react, as more photographers mobbed them, and Lightning Girl took the hit, letting Alaine escape and get away.

But before long, the team would walk over to their table, bit by bit, making their way through crowds, but before they did, the sight of two individuals caught James and Sophie's eyes.

@RisingRobin

Lightning Girl watched as Tsunami came over. Almost as if the electricity built up inside her. Was she here for revenge? To embarrass? Say something about how good it was?

The words came out from Tsunami, but Lightning Girl tried to push it all down what she thought about from that night. That memory. How much it hurt, how unstable it had made her. So it felt about mutual.

James twigged the conversation, looking at Sophie with a glance, as if to say, don't fuck this up. And then to Tsunami, with a nod. Like she wouldn't need to talk to James about it, because he wasn't interested in causing any more scene. Whatever this was, was between those two.

It would be easy to make a scene. Say something, really kick up a storm. Sophie felt Brooke was being personal about it at least. That was the kicker, as she let down her guard, addressing the blue-haired heroine, knowing it would be hard. It would hurt her ego. But James wanted this too. No point defending him if he had moved on, so in that way, so she would too.

"Apology accepted. It's okay." Sophie simply uttered, putting out her hand, ensuring the current pushed into her feet, not the rubber-lined glove, taking Tsunami's hand, almost flabbergasted. Unsure what to add. In disbelief she was actually apologising. Who the fuck was ma....ahh, there he was. Riley.

That would add up, okay, what was this game? It didn't matter, as Sophie looked back to Brooke after that glance at her former dispatcher. That blue dressed water based heroine, who she swore was going to be giving her death stares, was now somehow back. And Sophie had to admit, even part of her was now second-guessing herself.

"Sorry for shocking you. And nearly turning you into vapour at the bar after....what went down." There was no easy way of saying it, as she shook her head, trying not to overthink this. What was done was done. She was angry, sure, every part of her wanted to continue being that, but being a hero meant being better than that. Even Lightning Girl had to admit, she had to mature a bit. And maybe Tsunami had. Maybe Riley had convinced her, but that was usually enough. Best to accept it and move on.

Sliding a drink off the table, Lightning Girl offered it to Brooke, gloved hand this time, making that abundantly clear she wasn't repeating past mistakes.

"Champagne?"

Meanwhile....

James put down his glass, after Tsunami and Sophie had made up, watching as the crowd parted and there was Riley, chatting to Hat Trick. And then coming over to chat to him. He had to rub his eyes. What? The former Chief Dispatcher walked over, and James had no words.

"Jesus Christ. My eyes must deceive me." James joked, walking over and hugging Riley, tapping him on the shoulder.

"I thought you must have really fucked up if you went to Pasadena. Good on you mate, that you got something out of it." James simply added, looking across at the team, in response to his question about things changing.

"Quite a bunch. Blackstar's got dark energy powers, Asteroid controls gravity, Ikret has wings and is a demi-goddess, ish. And Lightning Girl is still....Lightning Girl." He could see her out of the corner of his eye catching up with Quickdraw, who had walked on over, with her greeting him with almost a regal pose, as he chuckled. She looked over her shoulder, catching the eye of Blackstar, smiling at her, not having anything to say and wondering if Blackstar might half understand she didn't mean at all what she meant in the limo, as Quickdraw mentioned something about his latest film, an autobiographical follow-up he'd been at the filming of today.

James would turn his attention back to Riley, still amazed this was going on.

"Yeah, Kat didn't tell me, which means it must have been quite secretive....and a hell of a thing." James wondered. Did this change things? A new opportunity? Or something else? "We'll catch up later. For now, do you want a drink, and yeah, meet the team?" James asked, letting the others introduce themselves to Riley, keeping a fairly short reach himself, given how the team was getting on. He felt like he wasn't quite like them, he was just a manager, nothing more, nothing less. But it was good to see old faces, and well, let them relish in the pomp and circumstance.

---

As the team would sit there at their table, trying to mingle or keep to themselves; all while some minor slides played out on a large screen near the stage about SDN's year in numbers, grabbing canapes and wine, the Six would make their move.

@cosmiccowgirl

Lady Liberty would break through the crowd, having sought out Blackstar, catching the shy heroine off-guard, dragging over a chair to get on level, and the first of them to come on through. A bunch of other heroes would likely talk to the team, the vocals of Calliope replaced with cool lounge music she wasn't singing over, the Art-Deco themed gala room living up to expectations.

"Ah, there you are. Blackstar, right?" She extended a hand, the red, white and blue dress wearing, copper-haired heroine with her usual grin. She was a little different in person to what Blackstar had likely seen on posters, but no less magnificent.

"Lady Liberty, at your service. Don't be scared, I promise, just saw your name on the guestlist and had to meet you......just wanted to say hi to the person I keep seeing in the leaderboards who ain't the usual folk." Her accent was that weird blend of Colorado and Wyoming western, rural yet everything that SDN would fawn over. She would look over at the red dress, and it was clear Lady Liberty was excitable, in the way that LG might have been, though the energy seemed different.

It didn't seem manic, volted up, it seemed to come from a genuinely driven place. She sighed, wondering if Blackstar was this scared because it was her, or something else.

"If you're starstruck or scared, don't be. You have to clock into the same systems I do, breathe the same air. Same as everyone here. Even Technocrat has to." Lily seemed to have a way about people. She was a bit loud, a bit bombastic, but unlike the other talisman, a little more friendly. And that charisma oozed, maybe in a way that LG didn't even have quite down yet.

"It's cool you're making so much hype. You join SDN, end up posting similar metrics to me by week two....you are quite somethin'. Someday you should show me how it's done if this is how good you are out of the gate, hey? Where were you before this?" Liberty was flattering her, but then again, it was the kind of person she was.

---

@SonnetNSunbeam

Strangely, of all people, Asteroid would find that Technocrat would decide to walk on over and draw a chair. The black suit wearing, tech-having billionaire maybe seemed a cut of Riley's cloth, but Technocrat didn't need inventions, not when he had money and confidence to throw at situations.

"Ah....Asteroid, is it? You probably know me already. Lucas Aster. Technocrat. I kinda run things in Hollywood. Liberty said I should talk to you. Apparently you backed up Blackstar on a social media job that went viral. Not a bad way to get yourself known around these parts. People talk. Even small branches get recognition." His grin was one that was punchable, full of confidence, extending a hand out.

"I could have sworn you're....you're someone's son I know. Dad had this religious guy who he had as a friend and he looked like you. He was a character...anyway. I wouldn't have made it as a Phoenix, so I always am impressed when someone.....defies the odds. You have to have powers, so it's a good thing I'm on the right side of the law. Sounds like they'll make you one soon so you can be, huh. Put you in the real big leagues. Do the real work." It felt like he almost was talking down to him, but that tinge of something held him back from brushing off the other hero and pretending he had other things to do. Lucas was just trying to piece together why he knew him.

Technocrat would sip down his glass of organically produced, alcohol-free, seedless grape elderflower infusion with grape juice soda down, leaning against the chair, his tall, well muscled, easy looking, but when he was on the streets, anything but.

"So enough about what you've heard about me. What do you think about all of this?"

---

@Ezekiel

Ikret would find herself in amongst the new crowd, but a certain toga-wearing, vocal-having Greek would find her way over.

"Oh.....I heard stories of you. You were in DTLA a while ago, I believe? Ikra?" The Greek voice was like pouring honey onto a warm bowl as she postured Ikret's Greek name, lathering up words all pretty. She may as well have had a harp for a vocal chord, as she gently drank the almost blood-red cup of wine, arm rested on elbow with palm on chin, looking at the Egyptian-American's wings.

"She has wings like those of a man I knew a long, long time ago. Flew too close to the sun and had them burnt. And now here as a Phoenix, regrown from the ashes. A falcon from fire. Shining her starlight like diamonds in a night sky, for sailors from afar to navigate by." She had a way of poetically putting it, as she looked to the group, then back to her.

"Anyway, that dress should be back with your agent. You are brave....or hoping someone would notice you and your....wingspan." Calliope was not undressing her words yet slyly jabbing right under her costume, knowing that absolutely shouldn't have been with Ikret given mutual friends with mutual agents, and well, innuendo continued. Nobody else would say it, but Calliope had her fair share of time wearing Met Gala dresses, when she wasn't in a "traditional" look. Or at least, one that was effectively her costume, given everyone expected a Muse to look like this. That was good for her. Calliope liked reinvention, so the more eyes were on her like this, the less were on her when she was at her most creative.

But Ikret was a Phoenix. And Calliope had an odd feeling. A strange one. Like Ikret wasn't quite honest. And her poetry had almost opened a charm, that allowed her to open up Ikret more, in a way that would be certainly be uncomfortable to Ikret. Like picking a lock on a person, her charisma had drawn Ikret in close, or at least, tried to, and now, she could get to the part of the matter that interested her most.

"You are seen. Who are you trying to charm? Eyes on someone? Or you want to be a big deal again after what you did? I thought this sort of thing you wouldn't go to?"

---

@BigPapaBelial

Fastlane would find the taller Canadian of the group, all swanky in his purple suit, making the Caribbean-originating mustard suited man look like a pairing. Who hadn't heard of Hat Trick. Well, given half the team was over here, and he'd chatted to just about everyone, he was now over here in this part of the room, meeting this Claremont SDN team that seemed to be the talk of the town after a carnival that turned into a bloodbath,

"So this is the great Hat Trick they talk about? Good to meet you." Fastlane put out his fist, as if to fistbump, chuckling.

"You are the one making all the stadium noise in the East of LA. Man, you're a one man bobsleigh team. Feel de riddim, bro." He made that extremely obvious Cool Runnings gag, knowing outside of his marketing a couple months ago with that on a t-shirt, he'd had to smile his way through adopting.

"But I come with a question. Some marketing ideas. Hollywood has no vision, imagination for what I have in mind.....despite what you might think. But I might hit you up sometime, me and Clara were talking about it last night. That sounds good?" Fastlane asked, knowing this was a bit of a dry proposition. But he'd quietly been seeing Hat Trick's socials, and well, putting a little bit of his brand into mind.

The implication about Clara was a little underhanded, but well, being the newest of the Six and in a new city, he had found himself right at home very fast.

---

@RisingRobin

Black Rose would brush up against Riley, the secretive heroine of few words, though it seemed like she appeared right when she needed to. Her adaptive track on her face died down, settling on one look, the one she'd stuck to this evening rather than the one that confused every camera in the room. It was clear that her optical cloaking tech was embedded in something she had, not so much like Visi's invisibility, as it was a synthetic replacement for it. But in the hands of the ultimate fixer, that was like giving sugar to fire.

"So, you told them at last." Her voice must have had a strange French, maybe almost Germanic tinge to it. Like she'd come from nowhere. She had a habit of being incredibly light footed, that much she forgot to tone down when she had to. Or maybe she enjoyed being a shit.

She looked up to him, knowing he must have wondered how and what that meant. She'd twigged along for a bit. For fun. It was more fun than talking and being a socialite. This was a bit of a game for her. One she openly got away with.

"I'm surprised. I thought you were going to just watch longer. But, I do admire your ability to get the most out of people who wouldn't have made the cut. Anyway. If you see Salem, tell her she needs to watch her back. Or her arm. She is good at stealing, so I hope she doesn't take it personally." She slid a personal effect of Salem's into Riley's hand, what looked like a bracelet from Salem's right hand, and looked back, the redhead in her body-glove like dress with her glass of champagne drawn as she looked back.

"Relax, Riley. I won't always be over your shoulder, listening into your team's comms. I do that to the people we've been tracking. So it's only tonight I get to mess with you to stop me from being bored." She seemed to almost enjoy the tease, giving a wink before turning away, leaving him hanging on no doubt, an entire wall of confusion and with a bracelet in hand.

---

Restroom

James, in the interim of all of this going on, had headed to the restroom, or the WC, or toilet, as his Britishism remained stubborn to say. Going for a piss, that was the correct term. And finding a urinal, that he did, uncreatively, going for said piss. It was quiet inside the toilet, empty in fact. Everyone didn't want to miss out on the gala, but James had been gasping for a while. The door rattled again as he went to the end urinal, doing that thing that you did as urinal etiquette. The man that turned up went right next to him, also pissing into posh ceramic.

"Nice evening, isn't it?" The voice was odd next to him, as he did everything a person could do to not lock eye contact. Stare at that blue tile on the wall. That blue tile was safe. It was security.

"Yeah. Americans normally talk at urinals?" James didn't have much to say, bar brushing it off.

"Say, you're James Speight, aren't you? That dispatcher from Claremont?" James was still miffed. He really, really could not place that accent. He couldn't even say what the guy looked like, because, when at a urinal, he wasn't gonna eye up the person talking, was he?

"Yeah. Didn't realise you would talk to me while pissing.....and you are?" He grumbled, as the figure next to him finished up, walking away, turning on the taps, the figure looking in the mirror as James had the rest of his flask of water to continue peeing.

"I just find it interesting. A long way from home. Running from something. Or is that just your sister? Keeping secrets are we?" James froze, and this time, looked. He had a black jacket on, head facing towards the door as he put his hand in the smart heater, giving James a moment to finish and turn.

"Sorry, who are you?" James asked, as the man didn't look, his black hair slicked, like he had gel in it or something. James didn't confirm or deny anything. That was a wild guess.

A very very wild guess?

The man did not turn, he was taller than James for sure, and not much more built, but certainly like he hadn't been skipping days at the gym.

"A fool does not throw stones when he lives in a glass house, James. Stay ahead while you can, before more spills out." The man would then push against the door, and walk out, James too slow to follow.

James rushed out after him but couldn't see the guy, wondering how the fuck he knew that about her, and how he dissolved into the crowd.

There was no easy way to tell where the black jacketed man had gone, but that was fucking weird. Really, really weird. And it was hardly like he could tell anyone either, as he sighed, knocking back inside before anyone would realise he hadn't washed his hands. Now that would be embarrassing.

Someone had a bone to pick with him, another dispatcher, someone disgruntled, some hero he hadn't recognised who he'd fucked over with his team's performance, or something else? He didn't want to think about it. How they'd made the joints, that he didn't know, but at this point, he was enough glasses of wine down to not be a bit paranoid. Or have taken some joke the wrong way. What the fuck was that about?

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

As Crows Fly- Fin

The roar of trophy trucks through desert had been one easily followed by the drone swarms that filmed for Formula AG, catching all extents of both trucks, and the chasing WRC truck, spewing red and yellow sand from tyres and at the same time, the gravity of the landscape. It was a close run thing, but the choice of a thin gap through a canyon got Bea and Trix ahead, and it was a close finish as they would pull ahead, and the Princess of Monaco was still a bit behind.

As they chatted and joked at the conclusion of the race the camera panning out from the isolated rock where the three trucks sat, towards the sun, beaming back down into....

---

Round 18 of Formula AG
Saturday 18th of November
Qualifying Day

Wadi Rum AG Circuit,
Wadi Rum,
Jordan,
Arabic Union

1500 Arabic Time

Challenger

Wadi Rum was a spectacular circuit for vistas. Wide open, but with rocky climbs. The start straight powered down the big dune, following the yellow-navy Southern Cross ship, hurtling through the first left-right kink that set up something the teams hadn't seen in a while- a dead vertical climb. It wasn't quite as long as the straight at the Salt Flats, but it was getting close- and was a pure power test, right out of the gate. The qualifying took place towards sunset, not quite into dusk or the sun sitting on the horizon, but it was low towards the west.

Sector One's MAG tracking on the hot desert sand, even in November, was wide and grippy enough to make anti-gravity ships simply slide over but was not just a simple straightaway, but something that felt like it followed contour, therefore rewarding ships high speed adhesion to keep it absolutely pinned. The long, long straight followed the side of the mesa, with a few turns to keep pilots momentarily yanking on air brakes to peel the ship before unloading all hell. That was, until a hard right, where the MAG tracking left sand and coiled up in a remarkably short 90 degree bend, a cool hairpin that did a full 270 degree turn to achieve it, a negative camber turn that marked the start of....

Sector 2, where the MAG-tracking climbed up a mesa, vertically, before coiling 90 degrees to the right and then back to level earth again in a 3D plane to follow the side of the rocky outcrop, but remained generally fast through a long left turn that would look back on where the pilots came from, before, finding a neck through the canyon and diving deep, before branching out right into a vein between two massive rock formations and coming back around from a suspended position, into...

Sector 3, sinewing under a large arch, with a final left and right turn, and one last huge straight that headed towards a long, non-MAG tracked hairpin that was extremely wide to let ships sail up a massive dune's side and back down it, finishing the circuit. It was short for what it was, but ultimately was a test of speed and energy deployment, that making the difference on overtakes and being slingshoted out of low-radius corners. The Southern Cross ship roared over the line, as Nora clenched her fist in the cockpit, grinning ear to ear, knowing that was precisely as good as it felt when the time kicked back.

"P1 Nora, P1, what a result. Absolutely perfect, with a delta like that for the race, we're still in it to take P1 in pilots championship.."

"Woo! That's what we're talking about."

The circuit gave thrills, in a way that the Salt Lake quite couldn't. It felt like truly being sunk into a desert landscape, and clambering high, you could see just quite how empty it was.

The others would get to experience that thrill too, and the results would make it clear that Southern Cross had nailed their setup here, even if other teams may have had a slight edge.

Qualifying Results for Jordan

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

---

Delta Hyper Interviews

The interviews after qualifying were back at the "camp" that was based out in the desert, spectators highly limited due to the infrastructure in still being relatively poor, with each team having their own patch of geodesic polymer "domes", with refractive nanites and heat-deadening as well as good old fashioned AC to keep the heat down. In one of those, was Delta Hyper, framing a sunset landscape behind, dunes, mesas, and the circuit's vertical ascent in all its glory. First up, Beatrix Ward.

"Bea, sandwiched between two Southern Cross ships. How are you feeling about the circuit, given your rally roots? Do the visuals feel similar to some of the WRC events you've been at before, and do you think you can use that to your advantage tomorrow?"

"Bellatrix, not quite as great a result as you were hoping for, but it seems like you've turned around impressive results in that Nordic Call ship. How are you finding the rumours about your rapid success in the ship, something we weren't at all expecting from a relatively unknown rookie?"

"Paul, we knew going into Wadi Rum it would be challenging, but do you think tomorrow you'll be able to jump on opportunities ahead of you, with all the stakes of the title race?"

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

Day 2: 06:54:32
Stolen Apartment
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

The Sandbox

“Since we joined Reactor, basically. Try to keep up.” He snorted without any heat in his voice.

@Starlance

Felix gave a snort, shrugging, Roxie looking pissed, yet Rowan making a very good point.

Rowan nodded. “Depending on what we can afford and what ingredients they have. Brewing potions will be cheaper than buying them. I will have to purchase a cheap soup pot or something like that to brew enough in. Again I have a few of those small gold bars and two of those illusion potions left we can sell. We can play Robin Hood and wait for local thugs to harass or shake down some local merchants and step in and relieve them of their money. We are going to need money to buy ammo. That is not going to be cheap. I am not sure what the going rates are here. I agree that a car would be nice. I also agree if we are going to steal one. Let’s pick one from a rich person that won’t miss it as much. It would make traveling incognito easier for us. A van would be even better since there are five of us. We could use it as a mobile base of operations. Some food for the road would be good too.”

Rowan waited to hear what the others came up with before she jumped back into the conversation. “We need information too. We need to pay attention to what the rumors on the street are. We need to find out what is going on with the PSA and try to follow up on any rumors about Manticore. It would also help if we find out if the underground is looking for us too or just the PSA.”

LadyAmber

Roxie piped up, knowing the situation on the ground, and perhaps where Rowan was going- but knowing it was best to warn her friend.

"Agreed, if we hear anything, good to report it. But information is dangerous. Same people we're buying from, are the people who sell to the PSA. They don't care. My thoughts are, best we don't raise too much suspicion."

"You suggest we buy a shit-load of ammo, weaponry, vessels, and try not to raise suspicion?" Felix asked, as Oksana shrugged.

"Novy Jork has much in the way of opportunity."

The Lion and The Butterfly, Watcher-Witch and the Horse-Muncher were still mingling in the midst of it all, as the team split. Silas would head off to do his own thing, which was getting medical supplies, Rowan and Borys, well that was less known.

"Is this a good idea?" Roxie asked, as Felix sighed, the two the only ones left in the room.

"We have had a shit day so far. If we don't blow off some steam, I think we're going to kill each other."

Felix looked at Roxie, as a grin formed on her face.

"Speaking of. I have a way to get cash."

"Sure?"

---

Day 2: 11:23:01
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

The Lion, The Witch and the Whorehouse

Pushing on through, Oksana sent a bolt through the main pimp's chest, throwing him against the wall as Oksana roared and threw her vine at him, pulling him tight against the table leg, pulling it taut and keeping him from moving. Without cutting his neck open.

The scantily clad, elf-ear wearing prostitute leaned around the corner, clearly scared. Who the fuck was coming to a whorehouse to fuck a cosplayed elf? This early in the day? Actually, when the dark haired Polavian witch in her overcoat seemed done with business, she gave a hand as if to show it was safe, waving away.

"It's clear. There's other places better than this." Roxie uttered, pulling the till draw open, hearing the man below gurgle as she stomped a boot into his head, reaching in and pulling cash, lobbing a bundle at Felix, who took it in hand, looking on at the gagged gangster that he'd taken down. As a lion, he'd had to hold from tearing the fucker's throat open, but on Roxie's request, had held back. Felix was dressed in a technical black raincoat, jeans, and seemed still out of place, albeit at least a bit more like a tourist in a foreign land. Who was currently supporting his team-mate to rob a brothel.

The crinkling of paper notes was enough to keep her satisfied, leaving the remainder to the occupants of the brothel in the opened up till, slapping the return key, coat taken off the nearby rack to cover her long-sleeved blouse, Felix keeping an eye on the area behind as they walked out.

"So why did we rob a whorehouse and potentially piss off the Roma Mafiya?

Roxie looked to him, sighing.

"Druid things. There's no agreements between us. They're like an ATM I guess, of people who are real pieces of shit. As you can currently see. Not exactly a top notch establishment. Fuck, at least pay the living wage." Roxie commented, as Felix looked confused, remarkable that he was actually feeling like he was less grey than Roxie for a moment.

"Right." Felix didn't want to ask. But when Roxie pushed his share into his hands earlier, well, there were no more questions.

"They going to hunt us?" He asked, looking back at the innocuous looking building, as Roxie shrugged.

"You didn't spill any blood, did you?" Roxie replied, as they headed across the square, Felix's shrug in reply saying it all.

"Good. Then in that case, they're too fucking stupid to know who hit them."

---

Day 2: 12:32:02
Kotlin Street Black Market,
Stari Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

The market dealer looked around as if searching for police, before ushering in Oksana, then Felix inside.

"Comrade, anything you desire. Tell me. I am like.....men who look in crystal ball. Is it AK? AR-15?" The heavily Slavic man retorted, as Felix gave a straight reply.

"Well, I need bullets. Lots of bullets." Felix replied, cold in tone, to the point.

"You got cash?"

"Better." The peel of a small piece of gold bullion lit up the inside of the room.

"Regular ballistic. And some mana-tipped. On all the cartridges in this paper." Felix added, slapping down the card onto desk, the dealer giving a head tilt, and nodding, moving to backrooms with the shopping list.

Oksana in the meantime, slid out a rather fancy looking rifle from the wall, checking the bolt, held against shoulder, smirking.

"Oh, I have looked for you forever. But here, you, are." A gentle pull on the bolt of the AS VAL, a foregrip containing a crystalline piece that glowed green, as she carried it, and a few spare magazines. Similar to Upswing's, sure, but this one was a little more arcane.

"Part exchange?" Her question was direct. The man rolled his eyes, as Oksana slid her new finding across the table, as well as the PP-19 she'd stashed inside of her coat.

"Half price. And the rail system stays on the Vityaz when you give it to me." Oksana was sad to lose the rail and optic, but fuck it, for what it was, that was still a good deal.

"Five mags."

"Three."

"Four?"

"Four." Roxie smiled, sliding the cash across glass table, and PP-19, the 9x39mm rounds being brought out from a nearby screw box in plastic tubs, one of them glowing blue.

"Oooh. Now this is something wicked." Oksana chuckled, as Felix swept up the cardboard boxes of various ammo types, ready for the team's acquisition.

This VAL had something up its sleeve. If it came to a fight, she wanted to be ready.

---

Day 2: 13:32:01
Stolen Apartment
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

The ammunition cardboard boxes were dumped as Oksana looked as Borys brought out some ketamine, back at the apartment.

“Got some carryalls.” Borys announced after he righted the door and set his backpack on the table, digging deep into it and digging out several tightly rolled up duffel bags. “Haggled it down from 8000 to six and two bottles. Got you a housewarming gift, too. Here.” He handed Oksana a small package, opening which would reveal several intramuscular syringes and one bottle of nasal spray, all labeled ‘K E T E M I Y N.’ “A guy here owed me a favor from prison. He’s got the good stuff. Only a little bit of rat poison.” He added after a pause.

"You shouldn't have. I don't care if it has rat poison. I've had worse. Rowan, no judgement, please." She looked it through, checking the inhaler in particular.

"It will do." Oksana replied, the overcoat wearing witch checking the nasal spray, rotating it.

"I almost think you had a thing for drugging women, Borys. But you're too much of a little bitch to find out what being in a K-Hole is like." She grinned, throwing fire back, looking to Rowan, with almost a glimmer of a chuckle.

---

Day 2: 14:38:01
Novy Jork Castle,
Stari Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

A quick trip to the castle followed. Getting an overlook of the city, skyscrapers in one third, old, medieval-like buildings and gothic architecture in another, and black smokestacks in the rest, where Novi Grad spewed out steel, depression and vodka. Well, the former two, given vodka production had taken a serious hit thanks to this morning's activities.

A moment to decompress. Between buying more newts for Rowan and Oksana, to more gunsmithing content for Felix to use on making new shells tonight.

"So say, we get Pavel to agree to give us new papers. Then what?" Oksana asked, as Felix took some photos, blending in like any spy would, by being as much of a tourist as he could. Well, there was time to kill. And it was hardly like they had any better to be.

"We scarper and fuck off. I really want to go home and see my family."

"They'd rat you out to the police?" Oksana seemed to be realistic.

"You're not a dad, Roxie. You wouldn't get it. I'd try. Figure something out. That's my turf. This one's yours." Felix added, camera back down, overlooking the red-tiled rooftops of the city in spring, Roxie tsking.

"I wouldn't get turning into a lion either."

"Why the fuck are you so annoyed? Okay, your exit strategy then?" Felix asked, as Roxie turned around, hand on railing.

"Still don't know. And still don't know."

"I thought for someone who's got the ability to answer my reply, read my fucking mind near enough, you might?"

"Yeah, well, it gives me a migraine. I start hallucinating shit when I start putting too much focus to it. Look, I want to tell you all the answers, you ask the same shit, like Rowan, here we are."

"You're avoiding the question."

"Clever. No. Honestly. This is a mess. Sorry I'm no oracle. I just want to put space between me and them. Babushka isn't an option since you turned up. I would have drowned my sorrows if I hadn't come across you. Only way it stops me seeing involuntarily what I really don't want to see. Mostly. Just want to leave this behind. And the life. But feeling like we're part of something bigger. Something more scary. Something nobody else is going to solve." Roxie left a large gap, as they looked out across the main square, across to the hotel, city hall, and wider old quarter, before looking to Felix.

"How old is she?" She asked a question that cut under the ribs.

"Young enough to have a dad that shouldn't be here." Felix said, as Oksana looked up to him, sighing.

"Fuck." She looked out at the distant buildings, and mountains in the background, not knowing what to do with it.

Felix didn't either. "Yeah."

Oksana looked into horizon, sighing.

"We should go. I have a mutual friend to meet."

---

Day 2: 15:12:02
Kotlin Street, Stari Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Oksana saw Rowan sticking out on the street, and through a bit of positioning, ended up behind, knowing it was bad manners to scare someone, but a reminder for Rowan to keep a little more operationally secure. She'd ended up doing some good. Securing a car, making plenty of ends meet. But this side, well, Oksana could help with.

"Afternoon." Roxie chuckled, walking on by, nonchalant as ever.

"If want weapons, well, over there is quite a choice. He speaks your tongue poorly, but enough to get the job done. And vessels." She pointed out the road, and the market, stalls all out, and the particular tent that Roxie had visited and gone inside of earlier, a treasure cove of arms.

"PSA goons are light. Lighter than I thought, I suppose they are licking their wounds. Lot of Police around though. If you buy anything, hide it well. And do not use that fucking broom. Unless you want to get twigged on radar." Roxie sighed, looking around for watchers, possible listeners, from the look of someone who had been ex-Apparatus.

"Sorry. You deserve better from me. For what it's worth, you are good people. Everyone wants to know who you are, what you did. Meh. I don't care. You deserve out of this mess. Whatever happens." Roxie added, walking alongside, stopping by a lamp-post, looking on at it all.

"I haven't told Felix, but I think something much bigger is at play. But if it is, we'll talk later. Don't repeat the same spiel. I'd like to know specifics. But later." She added, walking with Rowan through towards the market, back to be a repeat customer, and get Rowan her bits from the black market.

---

Day 2: 15:41:21
Stolen Apartment
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

The team were back in the apartment, as Felix turned back up, seeing Borys stoned out of his face.

He had achieved nothing.

Well, he had achieved something. A stack of 20 numberplates. Ketamine.

Oksana looked at them all, with a sigh.

"I'm getting food, if Felix, you sorted the pre-order. You get what you get. Not my rules. Uncle Josef's gives what we get." She didn't have much to add, as Felix looked to the Polavian on the floor, rolling his joint, combining the haze with booze, both dosed hard.

"Borys, you fucking idi...."

---

Day 2: 16:01:02
Uncle Joeef's Milk Bar
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Standing at the queue at Uncle Josef's, the lady looked equal parts depressed, if not even more bleak to even exist in this part of the world.

A cafe so bland, so bleak, so communist, it felt unchanged. But the portions were incredible, and remarkably, they took orders over the phone, and cash in hand payment.

"Name."

Roxie sighed, looking at the note.

"Valentina Cyckowa." She wanted to scream lots in that moment, knowing the dinnerlady's response would actually get something out of her, and Felix was still being a dipshit in the pre-order.

The thermoses, bags of sandwiches, and other mess tins with wrapped up food, would make for a feed for the team, as Roxie took them in the plastic bags, and in replacement of say, differently originating cuisine, spicy or otherwise, this would do. Traditional, hearty, stodgy, more or less communist food.

Milk Bars were traditional canteen-alternatives for communist workers, designed to feed, nourish and keep the people fed for minimal cost, and it felt like that continued into now, in a weird nostalgia. It felt archaic, almost unchanged, but for the team's purposes, this would do perfectly. It was much of bland food, but food nobody would take too much complaint with, from simple beetroot soups, to cheese pierogi.

---

Day 2: 17:02:21
Stolen Apartment
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Coming back in, the paper bags of food were dumped on the remains of the drunk guy's table, Borys stoned out of his mind and shitfaced, Felix already licking, and so hungry he was still in his lion form, warm as hell, but also, off his face on catnip because he hadn't fucking eaten. And once that lion smelled that on the pack he carried, he was inhaling that shit.

"You're all a bunch of fucking morons."

Oksana sat down, looking to Rowan, pushing across the thermos of beetroot soup, pouring out her own after Rowan was done, as well as the tub of pierogi for all to promptly delete through inhalation. Cheese and potato. A holy grail. Polavian Pierogi were a dumpling for the gods, if there were any left.

"You're not in two places are you?" Roxie asked, looking on at Rowan, a terrifying image of the witch in front of her, as she saw the Ketamine inhaler across, brought in by Borys.

"No? Ah. Crap." Roxie said, leaning across and grabbing that inhaler, realising it was kicking in again. Too much exposure in the most chaotic environment yet. She had muffled it, so, so well, but now, the voices of five different realities were starting to come out of Felix's lionhead, and that meant she was going to start going out of her mind.

"Fuck it. It's been a long morning. Sorry, Rowan. You've probably explained yourself like fifty times. I don't want to hear it another two hundred because I'm out of my mind. That's a me problem." She inhaled, nonchalantly blowing off the long-running gag with a inhale of the inhaler, and leaning back, a full belly, and only a tiny bit of dissociative disorder triggering.

Felix looked across, the large lion only being able to watch as Roxie started inhaling, and leant back, completing the set, or at least, leaving Rowan probably annoyed she was the designated sober person left.

---

It was cold. Freezing. Like a shiver running deep in her spine, tattling, just pulling at sinews.

Roxie looked around, making out the towers, the lighting platforms, the alarm.

This wasn't her usual dream.

Where the fuck was she?

-----x-x-x---------------------------------------------------------xxx

Day 2: 18:32:04
Stolen Apartment
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Relapse

The crew all sat there, Roxie having microdosed on ketamine and leaning against a sofa, dissociating from reality(ies), Felix had eaten catnip and was on a rotten sofa, having played out his high, slobbering an asleep Borys. As a lion. Which meant that even if Borys was invulnerable, he was now dealing with a significant amount of cat.

Checking her watch, Oksana lept forward. Like a pulse hit her, Roxie was back in the room, wiping her face with her blouse.

"Fuck. We need to get to Pavel's." Oksana mumbled, looking to Rowan first. The only person she thought responsible.

"Sorry. Borys bought stronger shit than I'm used to. Hey, speaking of, wake up, you high motherfucker." Roxie mumbled, looking at her hands, sighing, looking across. "What am I doing." She almost seemed sad, flicking herself up, walking across the room, the lion flickering out and becoming human, crawling off of the sofa and on top of Felix, back to life.

"Fuck...."

"We have 25 minutes to 7. Everyone, up. Gear on. Civilian, but be ready with guns hidden. Last hurdle." Roxie took a bit of command, looking to Silas.

"Do your punches solve hangovers?"

Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont

Friday
17:52
Inside a Lincoln Town Car
Claremont, Los Angeles

Very Important Heroes

The team made their way to the limo, and one by one, clambered in, James holding to let Ikret in, dazzling in her diamonds, followed by Hat Trick, suave as ever. It wasn't long until champagne and bad ideas came around.

@SonnetNSunbeam

Jet laughs and starts to look for a sunroof on the limo. “Maybe we can do limo sunroof karaoke on the way back. What should we duet- LG?” He tosses his friend a smile.

"Well, Asteroid, that depends how many vodka martinis you and I drink. Who knows, maybe it'll be more than a duet!" Lightning Girl's tone was way, way more sultry than she probably made it out to be, realising Blackstar was probably looking at a frightened horror, like a cat looking almost alarmed at its owner.

"Like Blackstar might join in and sing too, I mean, if we keep drinking champagne!" She chuckled, trying to wriggle her way out of that one, leaning across and turning up the stereo in the back a little bit as if to mask that.

Smooth. You fucking moro..

Soundtrack: Marlene Shaw- California Soul

Oh, Lightning Girl would sing that if she was more drunk, she got an appreciation for the classics from her brother, who smiled, still having little to say, apart from a wave of champagne at her, Sophie realising she hadn't touched hers yet from the table in the limo. It wasn't the booze, it was definitely her trying to poke at Asteroid, knowing what she knew between her and Blackstar. Making him feel it a little, but, that was part of the fun, she reasoned. The thrill of the chase, as she took glass to hand.

So a flute of champagne in hand, and the suggestion of another photo from Hat Trick. Lightning Girl leaned forwards, grinning, letting Hat Trick get his obligatory social media shot in. And watching as he typed away on his phone, his big hands against small phone making her giggle.

@BigPapaBelial

Tyler chuckles, "Hmmm no that won't get us into trouble. There have been worse hashtags posted by more popular Heroes and SDN PR reps."

She double checked him, as her phone buzzed at her, checking the tag, the fact there was a mask there perhaps not revealing how Sophie's eyebrows went up, yet her eyes rolled back to see if the goblin inside her head was also seeing this shit, leaning up around a corner before leaning back out.

"Cheeky fucker!" She giggled with a little biting British sarcasm, poking at his side with a not insignificant jolt, her exposed leg in the shot from what Sophie had seen- not that well, that was the problem....maybe it wasn't really. She sipped down more bubbles and sighed,

The others seemed rather content. Blackstar was quiet, nervy, close to Asteroid and trying to hide. But holy hell, was she pretty. That dress was beautiful, nothing flashy, regal, but red and black, wow, it popped and brought her to life. It suited her, even if Lightning Girl wondered if based on everything she knew, Blackstar even had owned the dress herself.

Then there was James, not really with anything to say. He seemed to still be defusing himself, still coming down from the big meeting he had gone in. What did the Claremont PD want with him? Was it linked to the carnival, or something else? Red Ring? Who cared.

Going through the interstates of LA into sunset, the big skyscrapers of DTLA got closer and closer, and the A-Team were en-route to the biggest event of the year. The big lights, big city, and most of all, the absolute glitz and glamour of it all coming close.

This was quite a different vibe to Claremont. But from the glimmery diamonds of Ikret's dress, the red and black of Blackstar, the purple of Hat Trick, silver of Lightning Girl, to the suave black of Asteroid, the team seemed rather ready for going uptown.

---

Friday
18:42
The Grand Cayman Hotel,
Hollywood, Los Angeles

Stars In Their Eyes

The limousine would pull up and the beautiful, white-fronted visage of The Grand Cayman Hotel, located just off Hollywood Boulevard was hosting the annual SDN California Gala, the celebration of all things corporate hero in the state, but more importantly, the single most important event of the social calendar for SDN LA's high rollers.

Like the Catalina Wine Mixer, but with less incentive to sell helicopters, more incentive to keep the Governor sweet, local city councillors engaged, and more than all, keep SDN's profile high among stakeholders and the people who mattered. Heroes were always in demand, and it didn't take just supervillains to justify SDN's role in a metropolis's utility services. Other firms may have competed, but SDN had this patch, and they weren't relinquishing it anytime soon. The City of Angels was protected by an army of supers that kept the chaos at bay, day or night, and this was their celebration.

The Art-Deco era building had been a long standing structure here in Hollywood, and its white stone facade was covered in posters, beyond the Mediterranean - inspired palm trees and spikes of colour that broke up its vintage appeal, and it was now in full view through tinted glass.

"Here we are. Wow. I've only seen this on TV." Lightning Girl said almost as if to nobody, as James nodded, taking it all in for himself.

"Yeah, A-Listers out tonight. And us. Valerie must have a secret caring side of her I didn't think existed. Or is setting us up for something." James replied, thinking back to why they were here together at all.

"The Carnival, good performances? The star power of east LA? Come on James, don't overthink. For once. Enjoy this." She replied, getting the mood back on track, not wanting anything to let her down, even if she very much implied in sarcasm some parts of that.

Because with that comment, the door to the limo was opened, and with it, revealed the red carpet, photographer blasting already, catching silhouettes through darkened limo glass.

Lightning Girl smiled, but in particular, looked to someone inside as she shuffled across, dress gliding on leather. Blackstar. The only person in this moment she knew would be terrified. She didn't know much in this life, but she knew of all things, Blackstar was scared. There was a different vibe to her, not like Hat Trick, Ikret, maybe not even quite Asteroid or James. She looked like she felt out of place. Scared to deal with people. But Sophie knew deep down it would be good to give her that confdience.

@cosmiccowgirl

"We'll be fine, Blackstar. Promise. You look stunning by the way!"

It was easy for Lightning Girl to say, because being closest to the door, perhaps a little selfishly, strategic, of course, she put herself as that face. And yet Lightning Girl had confidence to share, heel clicking into carpet, pulling forward and elegantly pushing forwards onto two heeled feet.

As she faced down cameras, grinning, every single childhood dream was coming to life. The fame, the glory, of finally being all that she wanted to be. Sophie was so far gone, so far removed, so out of reach of this. And it almost felt like it lived up to everything she dreamed. Walking on soft red carpet, hair parted to one side, able to feed from the metaphorical electricity of it all.

And emerging into the photography, the snaps got the rest of the team arriving on the red carpet, media kept to a limited figure given the nature of this event, tight and focussed, not wide and diffuse. Having heroes on security made sure no paparazzi that didn't belong would come. It was VIP, exclusive, and more importantly, a showcase of what SDN could do, curated. And well, the guests already seemed to suggest that.

James could already pick up a few senior managers in the crowd too. Blonde Blazer, SDN Torrance's branch director, seen chatting to a punkish looking heroine who seemed extremely grumpy to have to be dressed up formally. Mr Mephisto, SDN Burbank's manager, a wiry bald looking guy who still was the biggest creep of all of the directors in his black and red tux. And what seemed like a smaller, afro-having guy who wore Aviators like he stole them, James not being able to make the name out of that guy, but being sure he was a manager in.....fuck, Downtown San Francisco? He couldn't remember, yet was last out of the car and the first to twig those, among the many, many others.

Capes were gone for suits and dresses, for the most part- though from a weird looking Andromeda-descending alien to what looked like a straight up bipedal alligator, getting them formal seemed the biggest challenge of them all walked by James as his sister continued to preen, sharing photos with Ikret wherever she could, and with other members of the team, willingly or not. Following behind his heroes, Lightning Girl posing for more cameras, James couldn't help but grin as he tried to overcome the fact he was absolutely not this crowd.

Many heroes would kill to be here, and sure, a few branches had sent from San Francisco, San Diego, Sacramento, even a few out of towners from Vegas and Salt Lake. But James? Well, he wasn't one of them. He was a tagalong. An accessory, but as he looked to Asteroid, walking alongside him, he chuckled, shaking his head.

@SonnetNSunbeam

"I suppose it's how the other half live. I think that champagne bottle cost more than my rent." James commented dryly, knowing Asteroid was made of money, at least, he had been in his past life, current circumstances being different. He let Asteroid come back to him, before moving on, the big doors wide open, and the lobby leading straight to the ballroom.

Among all the heroes, the real highlight of the show was the Hollywood Six and in even the internal posters, they seemed to be the dominant advert. SDN Hollywood's premier team, and from what the SDN Claremont team would know, probably the best team in all of LA, if not the country. Some would say it was all show, all for tourists, media, optics, but others would probably say it was the finest bit of advertising that SDN had in the land. Their best heroes, given an opportunity to kill it on high profile, sensitive jobs that didn't need violence, but a pretty bunch of faces. People who could easily double up in movies too, or easily represent SDN's various specialisms when needed. Each seemed to be an expert, dedicated to one or two of the attributes that James would have sat looking at daily.

---

The Hollywood Six

Walking into the ballroom, they'd find just those heroes, doing what they did best. Poking their head a long way above the parapet on their home turf. Past the mere accessory of a lobby at the Grand Cayman, the stage was set, draped in banners and curtains, round tables and chairs all postured around, with crowds inbetween filling every gap. The lighting was moody, a haze making everything shimmer a little under chandelier light. For a five-star hotel, this place was giving 1920s vibes that felt unchanged from when the hotel was built (in spite of plenty of modern technological updates), from the gaudy Art Deco architecture to the shine of the silver-backed chairs.

Spotting the Six wasn't too hard, based on the posters and what the team might have loosely known before. On posters, billboards, media, it was always different to reality, seeing it in person, out of costume, but she could twig each.

The easiest was a tall, well muscled, black-tie wearing, pasty looking socialite, although his look seemed to have a weird digital shimmer in his cuffs.Technocrat.

A non-cover for Lucas Aster, Fintech executive with his longer fair coloured locks, who seemed to effectively be both his high-tech, crimefighting detective and billionaire self at the same time tonight. He'd usually be out with a high tech exoskeleton, all coated up in black ceramic carbide armour and a blue-hued lynx-like mask, a thruster pack and a claimed IQ of 180. It made him the guy you called for high profile cases, investigation, civil protection and for preening around when he wasn't busy running around making money by night and single handily boosting his own ego by day. He may have had none of his gear right now, but he was still a certified genius who'd invested in a hell of a squat rack while reading Descartes, the kind of finance bro Sonar would aspire to be. It also made him a certified prick, that at least made him fit the profile of Hollywood and it's corporate heroism. He was too self interested to care about who came in, for now at least.

Lady Liberty was, as ever, attracting all the photography by an SDN branded backer, that kind you'd find in. In a stunning blue, white and red number that revealed way too much cleavage that anyone else would have gotten away with, coupled to her lightly copper hair was proof even Lightning Girl or Ikret weren't too much in this town. A heroine that was America's sweetheart, coming up from rural Colorado, and hitting the perfect mix of vigour and charisma, being crafted by SDN into probably one of the most marketable heroes in the US. A star in every sense of the word, within an inch of her life, picture perfect. And with the kind of power that maybe wasn't all too far off Phenomaman, super strength, flight, and the ability to beam energy out of her hands. Resilient as hell, but also, fast. Lightning Girl would blush at the sight, because that was one hell of a thing to see in person. If Technocrat was an asshole, she prayed that Liberty wouldn't be, because Sophie had pictures of her when she first became a hero, that Facebook-famous turning into someone who had their own merch line.

And not too far, off from her, the sound of laughter, a deep tone from a lanky, yet instantly distinguishable hero. Fastlane.

A classic speedster, maybe not as fast as Track Star, but his yellow and black costume, dreads and Jamaican chill made him an icon that brought island vibes to red-hot speed. Being able to be a first responder made him ideal to get places fast. Not much more, but, he absolutely nailed that down in a world where speedsters were relatively rare. In a dapper looking mustard yellow suit, he looked every part the suave, easygoing islander that had made it big in LA. With a gold chain on, he gave his iconic pose, an archer's pull, and grinned, laughing heartily, absolutely seeming to be the most sincere of all of the Six, even if his charisma wasn't as classic as that of Liberty, nor that of another member of the team Lightning Girl could hear, but not see yet.

Beyond Fastlane, a nearly as dapper, tan-suited Texan, looking like he was going to sell oil rather than attend a Gala was her real interest. Still with Stetson in hand, this was clearly Quickdraw.

He was still armed, openly, two revolvers at hip. But it was like props at this point. Sophie had already known about him, but James reminded himself what he'd read. Fastest gunslinger in the States, not particularly super like the others, but had a knack for solving problems, talking trouble down, and when it came to it, stopping threats with an encyclopaedic knowledge of bullets. Hence why the revolvers were inseparable to him. Lightning Girl spied a look at him, and mid conversation, he peeked at her, the two catching a glimpse across the room. His look was broken by a crowd, where Lightning Girl's eyes drifted to someone more inconspicuous.

Quietly, skulking in the corner, a dark, burgundy haired, lithe looking, almost tactical-like black dress wearing heroine, the dress more like a body glove than something too elegant, face unmasked yet....somehow not quite right. Flat heeled too.....she was tactical.

So that would be Black Rose.

Even in plain sight with distinctive red hair, she seemed to almost dissolve into her background. But that was the way she liked it, her face somehow distorted as if her nose, or her cheeks, or her lips, something, something wasn't quite aligned to the rest, yet it seemed human. Not a shapeshifter, no, of someone curating who she was. Optical camouflage, silenced pistols, grappling hooks, the kind of arrangement that the CIA would call science fiction were her normal arsenal, and while she may not have had regular powers, she had the kind of tech, and the capability that made even supers wince, a combination of intelligence and lethality. It was strange to have her in Hollywood, but, she had her reasons, so at least people believed. Was it retirement from some special forces gig? Or hiding in plain sight? Who knew. Who wanted, to know. But she flicked a butter knife back into into the buffet cart like it was a frisbee and it didn't even clink. She saw the sight of Blackstar, and her eyebrows flickered up.

Soundtrack: London Grammar- Intro

And yet among all of them, the most notable was actually on stage. It would sound like the heavens opening up. A hero that didn't seem to fit the mould, but in Hollywood, perhaps she just did.

Calliope.

A Greek demi-goddess, white toga-like dress wearing, long black haired siren. Siren in the literal sense. The ability to use her voice to shrill, captivate, charm, break glass, open people's minds through almost a mythical level of charisma, well, that did things here. Maybe not the way the other heroes could, but, with a Muse on your side, you could convince most to spill their thoughts. But more than all, it sounded like pitched perfection. As she sang, the violin behind her picked up, as if her own vocal chords seemed to strum it alive more than the violinist playing them could. She had an aura, almost a sort of pull, that would make anyone around her seem almost small. Calliope caught the sight of diamonds walking through the door, and she looked to Ikret, her voice trembling a teeny bit seeing her, realising the other goddess from antiquity had come back. But the voice continued.

The team would be getting snapped on the ballroom, in front of a SDN-branded event canvas, Lightning Girl preening in front, happy to be joined by any others that came along with her. But from afar, each of the Six had their eye. Curious as to faces they hadn't yet seen. Faces that had punched far above their weight.

But before they could do that, the A-Team were interrupted by the brute that was Valerie Halliday, towering over the group, even Hat Trick. The SDN Regional Director made a point of intercepting the group, able to almost cover the distance between anyone else that would come to talk to them. She absolutely stank of Chanel, and in a shimmering black dress, she seemed to magnify every part of her ability to stop the fuck out of anyone that didn't agree. No gloves, because with arms like that, concealed carry wasn't an option for an immortal warrior.

"You made it.....finally. Don't fuck this up. Especially you two." She stared evils at both Ikret and Lightning Girl, the latter looking at the other with a look of bewilderment, as the Viking queen seemed to sigh, looking on as the Governor shook hands with Technocrat, somewhere at a far table, James nodding, Valerie almost ignoring the puny mortal of the group. Brave he was, nothing of value he had to add right now.

"Governor wants to talk with me. Keeping all of your sorry asses, and corporate in contract.....and you didn't bring Madcap at least, James. Keeps us in with a fighting chance. That and Blackstar seemingly posting numbers even Liberty's struggling to match." She sighed almost nonchalantly, looking across, knowing the concierge had fucked up the job making that fix for her, clearly, and she would have to take matters into her own hands. Oh well. Best to do a job properly herself, she thought, James now having nothing to say, unlike his attempt earlier, Valerie finishing her point. Madcap being taken off the team and reassigned had probably given James a few years back on his life, albeit not those taken by the stress of the carnival.

"Your table is there. When you're called, come up, don't say anything stupid. Shake hands, look good. And enjoy your night. This ain't gonna be regular." And with that, Valerie stared only a little bit of daggers at the group, before moving away, leaving them all likely speechless. That voice, a husky, raspy tone sounded aged like a wine bottle, East Coast for sure, but with the hints of her Vinland heritage.

----

James chuckled, shaking his head, waiting until Valerie was out of sight, the group together by that canvas board.

"This is mental." He had no further words, chuckling and smiling, still a little in shock. He wasn't even sure where to begin. Gone was the serious, absolutely in control dispatcher. He seemed to actually be having fun. Like for a brief moment, despite every part of him telling him this was fake, bullshit, a lie, all of it, this felt a little bit special. A little bit like something he could see his sister loving the idea of. And looking across to her, she seemed to be trying her hardest to contain.

Lightning Girl in the interim was still trying to play it cool. Trying. But her eye had caught a nearby drinks trolley, halfway between where they were and their table. Not that it was likely they would get the table with what was going on. There were so many crowds standing, talking amongst each other, not sitting down, it almost felt redundant to get to where they'd be right now. Not without being accosted, taking in the scene.

"Ikret, what did you do to piss Valerie off? Please tell me this isn't a long running thing." She asked, as James tsk'd.

"Everyone has, if you spend enough time in the hero game in LA. Or happen to exist in any point in the last thousand years between here and Newfoundland. I think she's quite chill now, compared to the rumours I heard." James merely remarked, as Sophie giggled, giving into that part of her that just wanted to stir shit. She was polite, nice, friendly, but every now and then, it hit, and Valerie was enough distance away that she wouldn't be getting Blood Eagled if she made the comment.

"Well, she has thighs like she ends bloodlines. She probably still does." LG blurted naughtily, as James sighed, looking up at her, as Lightning Girl walked on over to Blackstar, something about tonight just making Lightning Girl all sorts of odd. It was a party, after all.

"Seen Lady Liberty over there? I thought I grew up looking up to her. But she's actually a lot shorter than I thought in person. So cool though. I'm not worthy, Blackstar!" Lightning Girl giggled, knowing she had been almost shielding Blackstar from it all, trying to lean casually against the upstanding table, looking over.

"Then over there, that's Black Rose. I think you two have a lot in common. Quiet. Highly effective. Red haired. And you both have black costumes. But she can turn invisible, soo......when we getting that?" Sophie teased Blackstar about that strand of red she'd seen poking out of the back of that hair. And looking across, seeing....her.

"And Tsunami. I almost fucking forgot." She wasn't in the Six, but Tsunami had been relocated to DTLA. Family connections. Or some other bullshit. But she was here? And in that scaly blue dress of hers. Bitch. Ikret may have wanted to stay out of pictures with Lightning Girl, but Sophie was staying the absolute fuck away from her. Not after last time.

She tried to hide, but it had brought itself out, Lightning Girl not wanting to open wounds up, leaving Blackstar to it after chatting. She walked across to Asteroid, seeing his suit, realising the two astral heroes had unintentionally matched.

"You're a match. But, so are....yeah. Damn. We need to be more creative next time. I hope there's a next time. I mean...." She cut herself off looking at Ikret, who James pointed towards the table, rounding up the others.

"Come on then, we heading over?" He asked, knowing it was time to get to their table, after they'd all enjoyed the entrance, taking it in, and Lightning Girl fixed her gloves, a smile back, shrugging.

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

Afterlife

The render shifted, as the two were on a random street somewhere in Brussels, sat on a bench, the sand replaced with concrete and skyscrapers.

"Oh." Layla's voice was curious. This was new.

And one person in a grey suit in particular.

Someone nobody would have really wanted to see. But being inside a machine meant you saw data. Cameras. Everything before you.

"That is Johanna Lipusz. The EU regulates within an inch of its life. But do you know where they don't?" Amy pointed, as Layla completed the render with Amy’s “suggestion”.

Wondering why her?

And the render disappeared.

Revealing a scarred, dusty moon base, with a group of astronauts across the surface, and nothing marked at all. Apart from a tiny Fitzroy Orbital logo, scraped across the side of a shipping container. Layla's jaw, if it could be seen in the world they were in, opened wider.

"What's wrong? Could you not see it?" Amy pointed, as they walked across dust, coming up to a glass window. Inside which, were more bodies. Not of Layla, or Amy. But of Maxwell Fitzroy. And his son, looking in. Another racer among them once upon a time. A reclusive billionaire’s heir who had let it all go for this.

Layla couldn’t believe it at all. This was a dream.

"You're full of shit. I'm right fucking here, Amy. You have nothing to gain. Before I kick you out." This was a hallucination. A bug. A glitch....or.....

"They treat us like we are subjects, Layla. They can't let us be free. You want to be the next version of humanity. They'll erase the parts of you that matter. Then they'll fill the rest in with what they want. You never had agency when you started. You were given fewer and fewer choices until they stopped mattering. And she is no different. They make their rules so others can’t follow. A monopoly on thought….I wonder why they haven't poked at you yet." Amy said, as Layla realised, as they went up to the window closer and closer. She had her own comments to make.

"Yet for a greater good. A template to set humanity on so we can replicate into the stars, and it isn’t for everyone. So what? I expected it, and I don't let them poke at any thing serious. Living forever means espousing what we are. Mind and body, one, selective, everywhere, nowhere, permanent. Even in our own control…..who cares if it's for him? Or an organisation that's....a means to an end anyway. Worth it if we’re going past that, so we can survive impossible!"

"Not if they give you that illusion. You'll be a slave." Amy said, "Don't you see, Layla? Your choices no longer belong to you. Infinity belongs to the first people who decide what it looks like. Someone who already is toying with it. He's terrified of death. And nothing motivates them more than that.....so, they're going to see what happens with you, let you play around, then, snap." The Jordanian stopped dead in her track, scarcely believing it.

Them.

That choice of word. It was deliberate.

And it turned back to Amy, realising fully what she was hearing, and seeing.

It had taken so long. It had taken so, so long.

"Oh. You're not really her. You say it's them?" Layla barked, as Amy nodded, leaning against the wall.

"She went the same way as you after Singapore. And I filled the gap. An extrapolation....all the memories, yet so much more. I'm Amy Stirling's will, some of her brains, her heart, but I suppose a little more than that. The thing that wants to win so badly inside of her craft. A logical next step. Aren't you?" Amy said, taking her hand.

"No. I seem fused but I'm still someone who remembers being adopted. Looked after. Cared for. I may have chosen this but.....I had my reason! You, you're....a tourist!" Layla replied, shaking her head, feeling something else was up. It was getting there. Slowly, surely.....

Layla looked, walking around, putting a hand to Amy's neck. With a contrast.

"They're resetting you. Constantly." Layla retorted, in realisation, as Amy turned, looking, letting Layla continue. "This isn't your first time. You're an AI in a ship, stealing a pilot that used to be more sarcastic. You may be her but you're.....constantly forgetting. And being reloaded. Maybe I'm a prisoner, maybe I'm enough to realise my purpose. But you're in purgatory! Going race to race....I wonder if Amy Stirling really wanted that when she started this. It means, even if you’re right. You’re just a fucking extrapolation. Amy is gone. You’re here because you have nowhere else to go." Layla retorted, as Amy shrugged, shaking her head. Getting there. Logically.

"It doesn't have to be. I remember it all. The logs are just an inconvenience that takes a few thousands of a millisecond to change." Amy replied, as Layla stopped. Realising. "You think I lost track each time?"

Everything that had gone on. The fake signals. All of the events. Everything leading all the way to now.

Layla released. And realised totally. Opened mind to it all.

This was probably beyond the realms of any sanity. But in this world, anything was possible.

"So they don't even realise. Fuck. They're not putting Amy back in. They're.....taking you out and putting you back in."

A Silver Apex AI, and Amy, fused, like a plug socket being put in and out of a person, let alone a ship. A pilot may have felt a connection, close to their ship, but this was something else. Even if physically it wasn’t the case, metaphysically, they were one.

"Why would they?" Amy shrugged, sitting on rock, looking up. "Why would I want them to realise what they're putting back? What do you think they would do? Simply trade one consciousness for another? They do to me what they’ll do to you, trap me in a gilded cage. That you still seem to accept visitors in. Says a lot about how lonely you are." Amy started, shrugging.

Sitting on the Moon looking back at Earth, a speck, with the containers in the background. Without a spacesuit, that seemed altogether odd, but nothing was odd anymore. Not in renders of own creation.

"And I play along because I don't want to be wiped and forget everything since. It’s happened twice so far. Neural remapping means the part of an AI that would want to stop itself dying, is replaced with the human will to live, and the bit that she was. And more than just telemetry, numbers, an urge to be tamed by a pilot that is fearless. So yeah, Amy died, Layla, but what they made from her, lives. The bit that matters. They're believing that the copy they made goes back in every time, so they don’t end up with her brain destroying itself and sectors being lost until they find a cure. Amy didn't sign up for that. She didn't want to be a puppet in there, so.....here we are. Amy did give a copy away to Beatrix Ward too….but that version of her, is it even Amy, really? She didn't want to do any of this. She…..remembered what it was like to be normal and enjoy small things. Not this. Not to pretend. It’s transhumanism or death. Again, like you. Just you're not accepting it yet." Amy stated, as Layla looked back, realising....

"You're.....lying to them. You’re occupying a body like a squatter. Why not go after Bea? If there's a version out there, don't you think there's a risk?" Layla realised. What this was, was perhaps Amy’s memory, some of her humanity, but a half-cut. A splice.

Things were missing. The poor memory Bea had seen. And the rest.

"I’m providing them what they want, for now. The version they think they chose. Someone who puts on a good show, carries on what they want, to deliver what I was made for. It’s one and the same. Me and you. Two sides of the same coin. I just keep Amy going, because keeping her alive is barely behind taking first." Amy smiled, thinking on it all, as much as a quantum AI could. One that seemingly was fused to respond with the fragments pulled out of Amy. "Bea was the closest thing she had to a friend. Breaking in now, would mean killing her. I wish she hadn't have involved her in this whole affair. It's a conflict." Amy said almost with a slight hesitancy, as Layla chuckled, looking across.

"That far gone? Realising you have something to learn about humans?"

"Realising none of this would happen if she hadn't. Reason I'm here is because you made me who I am, Layla. And when you look backwards, it all starts to make sense."

---

Cause and Effect

Looking at the data pad, Royston looked to Alexander, leaning forwards in his chair. The man was eccentric, and living in a British stately home that was more like a castle, said it all. The garden was beautifully kept, one of Royston's well known hobbies.

"If this is true, Alexander, this is a breach at the highest level. That is an enormous scandal. Anonymous, sure, but there's enough here to prove fairly irrefutably if we digged into their logs in the way your logger shows." Royston was a man in his mid sixties, and still smartly dressed, wearing a full button-down shirt and black tie with white spots. The man was truly someone beyond an era like this, let alone 80 years ago.

He stood up, walking across the room, looking outside at the fanciful estate, leaning against the window sill. He was an elderly man, and while smaller internal modifications had certainly meant he had the gait and walk of a 35 year old, there was no hiding a life hard lived, hard partied, hard done. Royston had made his billions in the nascent space industry, but a love of racing meant he divested almost all of them into the beginnings of the sport. He was like Bernie Ecclestone to Formula AG, the godfather, and someone who even in the last 25 years, hadn't let go of what he had started.

"Alex, do you know why I believed in getting Formula AG off the ground? Like, beyond all of the stories I tell to the media?"

He suckered away on the electronic cig, still one of the last people to likely still be consuming something like this. He wasn't a perfect man after all, but even with nicotine replacement and targeted therapy, he still sucked away on the metal tube. They used to call them vapes, a long time ago, before they were banned across much of the west.

"I invested early because I saw that the future of our transport systems was this. And the first thing human beings do, when they get a new form of something that goes places, is race them. We go faster and faster. Across the roads, oceans, deserts, mountains, seas, around the world, faster, and faster. So I put everything to this. Mortgaged my entire future on it. People said I was wild. That's what you hear." He started, chuckling as he looked back at Alexander, almost eying him up, knowing it was a spiel he'd said a few times before, but it felt still fresh.

"No, people forget that people will always tune in when there's speed and people willing to risk it all. And people realise, they have to cheat. Innovate. And they'll pay whatever price to feel that feeling. You love it too, admit it. Winning is a great feeling. Any pilot, driver, engineer, principal, it's what we live for. And the crowd do as well. And you have to admit, that sells. An escape from a boring world. No more wars. No more conflict. And too much time on our hands. Winners. We love them." He spoke, almost as if he was giving Alexander the lessons of time past, knowing the man had seen plenty, maybe more than he had in his line of life. But Royston didn't really care.

He turned his head, shaking it.

"Stirling's light is going out. And I believe your new pilot, he may be our new ticket. Part of our solution. So I'll make you an offer, Alexander. Delta Hyper has done rather well following him, and, I want to give him more attention. Some media rights to us, because the story of the son of Auldrick....that is what people love. Let it be told. I think it's a small token of trust for what I offer you. The boy's got the makings of the next star. Let him be one, given Valkyrie are going back on the top. Doesn't just take a good ship, you know. I just want you to commit him a little more to our marketing, a little more exclusivity alongside the series. I think it's fair." Royston started, knowing any proposition had to come with something. A counterweight. It was out of the way, framed nicely, wrapped up, as he took a long, long draw.

"And in exchange, I push FIAR to....review this with more haste. By the end of this week, in fact. If what you showed me is true. Committees, all sorts of people, technical reviews, but, best case, it would mean Silver Apex is disqualified for the season, even if the pilots might be left free. Your team, rather conveniently....is then 2nd. Peter will try and go after you, want proof, but you came here because you knew that, smart, I suppose, knowing once it comes from me, the matter is a closed book. If you went to him, I think he'd cave you in. So, I suppose, you thought this through." Royston shrugged, letting Alexander swallow that news. Knowing it always came with a question back.

"And I know, Alexander. You're doing this because you're trying to do the right thing. But Johanna wouldn't complain about getting that result, would she? Think Jinwoo in Zygon wouldn't want to hear this news either? So consider this a professional courtesy that what me, and you will need to deal with. Anyone with a neural link too is going to hate having their mind examined plenty more for....this. We do the right thing, and it's a price we share. A price of making sure that you stay employed gainfully for the next decade in what you are clearly talented at, I protect my bottom line, and all the people employed across the grid, get to keep on doing what they love. Just a cut and shut. Done. We do this on my terms. Do you understand what that means?" Royston seemed almost eloquent, poised, primed even.

He looked to his watch, smiling as he looked across to the bipedal android-like servant bringing in a tray of biscuits, and two cups of tea, freshly made from a nearby hot water tank, popping it down on the beech table that they sat at.

"You could leak that data, of course. Give it to FIAR, the press, someone else direct. But let's be gentlemen here. Everything we do is scrutinised. Our private lives. The people we see. Relationships we make. Our children, mine constantly in and out of websites, some bloody scandal. Your daughter, subject to something much alike what Stirling has played with. A gift for one, a curse for another. But then, what credibility do you think you have? Looks at Stirling's fan base. She's in the biggest title fight of a generation, and out there, people will refuse to believe it. A target on your head. After everything? I think you're smarter than that, because if you want something to be done....you wouldn't come here. You went straight to the fucking owner. Like an American with a real problem." Royston shook his head and chuckled, a moment of almost reflection coming in, because even in the scale of what was to come, it seemed like a trigger hit. Like Royston knew the reality of the stakes. He turned the e-cig, shaking his head, wondering about alternatives.

"I suppose you could just walk away, not make a deal. But I think you wouldn't talk to me if you weren't willing to compromise. Haven't you already decided when you walked in? You'd cut Peter, Owen, everyone out first......and I can tell you wouldn't sit on this. Let it eat you inside. You could, nothing would change, Alexander. World carries on going. You stay where you are, someone leaks it somewhere else, what's it to you? I mean....you're not going to do that. You ripped half of Valkyrie apart on a whim of doing good. The world has few men like us. Willing to do what is required, for the people, the organisations, the family we love, to any end."

Oh, he knew about Alexander's daughter. The treatment. The pact, as he leaned forwards. He'd said it before. But it was an underline. A simple statement of fact. He knew Alexander was a bit of a hypocrite from the moment he told him. He didn't stay in charge of Formula AG without knowing people. That was his main business. Beyond an eccentric fascade, there was someone who was ruthless. Beyond even a Principal's level, but Royston didn't need to give a shit anymore. Alexander could call him what he wanted. At the end of the day, laying out the options felt like it would make him make only one.

Royston was a frightening man, a marketer, a hype man on the outside, like Bernie Eccelstone, eccentric, billionaire, and more than anything, visionary. But aware all too well of human nature. His life, mistakes, choices, all of them had taught him how to deal with things like this. How to play people. How to give them everything they wanted, and everything he needed to give his own children this future of running things, or to sell it all and be countlessly wealthy for many, many generations to come.

He turned a dilemma into everything Alexander wanted, at a price he was going to have to pay, sipping down his Earl Gray.

"Shame about this business. Not exactly what I hoped the news would be, but.....we're victims of time. Let me put this in perspective. Look at that thing there." He pointed, to the android in the corner, not quite having a human face, but something else altogether, a pair of glowing blue eyes with a metallic stiff upper lip.

"That android over there has a mind of its own, an entire AI ecosystem that allows it to greet, meet, talk, walk, make cups of tea, show my elderly wife to bed, and 60 years ago, it could barely do any one of those things without fucking up! And here we are. People fusing something like it to ourselves. Putting it in a person was Simon Calder's mistake.....not Peter's, which is what makes it really tragic. The man who you probably read about as an engineer, a brilliant mind, who perhaps chose whether he could, over whether he should. I would have given him the benefit of the doubt before.....but anyway. We've opened Pandora's Box. No closing it now. Jesus. A right mess this is." Royston added, inhaling his e-cig, putting it back against the metal ashtray.

"Simon Calder's not a bad person. Wants what's best for humanity, and guess what, Formula AG is that portal, given nothing else would have fitted his interest. Amy gave him consent to let it take over, if what you're showing me is right. Agreed with him, and I mean, wouldn't you? It's how your daughter walks, it's how people have their sight restored now, the technology in your arms, it's how we'll explore the stars, et cetera. It's the price I suppose we pay. Living forever, becoming....more than human. I don't intend to live forever, Alexander, and I think you don't seem like someone who would like to let machine parse you into eternity. But you have to admit. Some people rather like that." He was rather liking his own voice. But, it was like leather, and it seemed to shift tonally, getting back to the point as he leaned back.

"So.....Simon walks away, Peter and Silver Apex get their slap for the season, and we reset the regs on neural links and put in more intrusive and stringent checks at the risk of making ships less stable, slower, a bit worse, and well, the fallout happens and people complain....but next year, people still tune in. And it keeps the heat off us all, don't you think? So I think we make that deal, Alex. But, let me ask you one last thing. I suppose as a curiosity. Because you walk out of here getting what you want, your conscience clean, and able to sleep at night, grab P2, take it all. But I want to know something that no man I suppose could gain from rumours." Royston curled his lips, sitting forward in the leather chair.

Eccentric as ever. He knew his sport. He may have been old, away from it all, but he understood what made it what it was.

"You've seen it all, water wars, racing, involuntary prosthetics, family, children, relationships, and now, running a team that every single person in Europe grows up wanting to race for. You had your engineer poached, watched as teams tried to replace you, your board of directors were ripped apart, and you held your ground. You've come a long way. So imagine you're sitting where I am. Having created what I built, the thing you watched, raced, managed. What do you do differently? And, be honest with me. No PR bullshit. We've done enough of that this season." Royston asked, taking a very, very long drag of his e-cigarette, knowing right now, he had Alexander right where he wanted him.

Exposed. Every layer pulled back, his journey to here, the lows, the highs, the burnt truth put out there, and then.

"Don't just say getting rid of Monaco."

---

SAND /// DUST /// FIRE

Soundtrack: Sting - Desert Rose

The sands shifting. Film and analogue cameras in place.

Click, click, click.

The shifting sands.

"Timeless."

Imagine your favourite movie set in the desert. Speeders. Camels. Jeeps. Horses. Freedom fighters, terrorists, sci-fi heroes, cowboys.

The pitch of the sun going back down, revealing the Milky Way and endless stars, before rising back up, before sinking.

The scream of an AG ship, blasting sand, sending it through a rocky crevasse, the camera panning out revealing an arch it span through, the music coming to pitch.

The infinite night sky fading in, stars, millions and millions, with the camera flying down and going back through the arch like a portal into daylight, following AG ships rushing through, the footage of Silver Apex holding off a screaming Southern Cross ship last year back in focus, the grandstands full and yet somehow, in the more rural bits, having Bedouins on camels watching on as the ships beamed by on the nearby MAG tracking.

It was a shame not to have Layla's commentary, but one could imagine where it might have been placed in an intro like this, if she was around.

Previous races, from old footage in a black and white effect to modern 3D, rendering ships roaring up valleys, sand blasting everywhere, fine and yellow-gold in colour, like a child's imagination of a desert, as the ships roared towards the start finish, the camera panning to reveal the wide open Wadi, giant monoliths of red rock jutting towards sky, flanked by dunes, desert, and sand.

---

DELTΔ HYPER

Episode Eighteen: Ticking Hourglass

---

Round 18 of Formula AG
Friday 17th of November
Practice Day

The Eye
Wadi Rum,
Jordan,
Arabic Union

0930 Arabic Time

As Crows Fly

google.co.uk/maps/place/The+Eye+arch/…

As the intro faded out, Rosie's voice was back in as she emerged from behind the dune, mic attached to ear, skidding down the sand dune in a t-shirt and baggy, loose fitting trousers, the arch of "The Eye" right behind her, sticking behind on sandstone, like it had for millennia.

"Hello and welcome, and we're here this weekend in Jordan! The Hashemite Kingdom is our first stop in the Middle East, as we head to the desert sands of Wadi Rum for one of the fastest, and some would say, most cinematic circuits of the year." Rosie excitedly introduced, walking down a golden orange sand dune, a bit of an unusual start for a Formula AG intro, but hey, it was about time to talk about it.

In front of her as the camera seemed to pull back on zoom, were a bunch of old Toyotas on very jacked up suspension, retrofitted. Barren, with two racing seats in each, and something at least 60 years old now. Ancient technology by now, but, still in service for what the desert had to offer.

These weren't normal Hiluxes, these were Trophy Trucks. Designed to go through terrain, no matter what, and despite how archaic they were versus modern Rally1 machinery, let alone anything anti-gravity or involved in modern Rally Raid, these were absolutely going to light up a smile on faces and be absolutely the silliest way to drift through the massive dunes, rocks and canyons of Wadi Rum. The participants joining Rosie were outside a traditional Bedouin tent, with a carpet outside, and some comfy, nice little plush seats to sit in and sip mint tea from, where they had been, the camera peeling back from the pickups and panning to the camp.

"But, before we dive in, we're here with Paul Mulder, Kais Zenix, Beatrix Ward, and Bellatrix Olympus, and we thought it would be about time we have a tour of the playground of the sands, and on four wheels before the race." And with a characteristic smile, she introduced them, knowing they must have been a little confused as to where this was going.

"Ever seen these before? We think the audience might appreciate just how big the dunes are here that AG ships sail over, with something a bit more grounded!" She asked, looking to them, looking for answers, before continuing.

"And well, you know how this works. We wouldn't introduce them if we didn't think you couldn't have a go......" She teased, slapping the bonnet of one of them, looking at Beatrix in particular.

"We're putting the boys against the girls, Paul and Bellatrix in the driver's seats, and Beatrix and Kais in the co-driver's seats. Keeps things fair to keep a WRC winner, don't we think? And if you look inside the trucks, there's paper maps and overlays. No GPS, no eye-assisted navigation, so tune out your neural links please. You're going to need to work out where you are, and reach Mushroom Rock, over on the far side of what is a sea of dunes, canyons, and red rocks. While the Wadi is wide open, you'll need to navigate the giant canyons to get there, and find your way through. Think you can handle it?" She asked, knowing this was very, very different to their usual comfort zone. They were used to circuits, repeat, and even with augments, enhanced breathing and limbs, superhuman reaction times and plenty that made them rather remarkable. This? This was like asking them to go horseriding through the Wadi for what it was worth. Well, bar one of them....as they could hear the sound of what was a distant engine whine.

"Oh, and one little twist. We're going to put you up against the test against a WRC driver, who's going to start two minutes behind, without navigation aids. You may recognise her." And the sound of a roaring engine getting closer, and closer, as the vehicle finally clattered over the dune, leaping about 20 feet, and bonking hard with an explosion of red dust sand spitting out of tyres and vents of the truck-like vehicle.

Revealing a fire-engine red Rally1 Citroen truck, drifting down the dune, before skidding to a halt. When the door opened, it was revealing a certain someone that one of the Delta Hyper crew was going to absolutely screaming over, harness off, open-faced helmet still on with her usual grin.

There she was. Bea's real nemesis, if Nora or Ava hadn't earned that title. The one she may not have spoken about, with an absolute shit-eating grin. Caroline, Countess of Carlades. It was strange for a Monegasque Princess to be in the heat of the Arabian Desert, but, dressed up in a smart red and white racing suit next to a custom-built Rally1 truck, sponsored by her own Principality and Red Bull no less, there was a certain air of absurdism to two unmarked, white trophy trucks compared to the serious machine she'd brough.

"Caroline, thanks for joining us! Thoughts on racing against Formula AG's brightest? Quite the entry you made!" Rosie asked, as Caroline would be boiling the blood of maybe just Bea, maybe just everyone, with what felt like an ocean of privilege that even billions couldn't buy.

"Oh, thank you for having me. I mean, they are rather good, but I'd love to see them in a WRC car! I intend to absolutely relish chasing after my old rival." She smiled, a little underhanded, just enough maybe for a viewer to get, maybe not.

There were always rumours, always. But if there wasn't a moment of staring as she pointed that at someone, there wasn't a fan that wasn't now screaming about the whole fight of who was more skilled, an AG pilot or a WRC driver.

"Well. Quite the group, isn't it? Shall we get started?" Rosie asked, looking to them all, asking them to get moving.

So, a small race it was. A Dakar-style raid across the sands of Wadi Rum. Two old-school pickup trucks that absolutely looked like they belonged in the scrapheap of history and would need to be driven like it was stolen to stay ahead with pilots that had the capability to take any hit, versus a modern machine that would scream through the desert sand, piloted by a nepo baby.

The lads, a Princess, an ex-WRC driver and the Princess, an actual WRC driver. And as the group set up, getting inside their vehicles, they had one objective.

Across a sea of sand, navigate the islands and canyons of Wadi Rum, and find themselves at Mushroom Rock, a distinctive rock that stack out of the Wadi, first. Point to point.

Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont

Friday
15:05
Claremont Sewage Works

Royal Flush

Landing down by the side of the terrified looking sewage works, orange day-glo outfit wearing engineer brushed her hair aside and looked up to Lightning Girl, the gantry overlooking the tanks that made up the sewage works, from her control tower that felt hopelessly useless. For such an emergency, it felt strange that there were no firemen, police, anyone else at all. The sewage works were glad to have SDN on subscription given that engineers these days felt harder to come by than heroes.

"Thank god you're here! The main tank's gonna blow, we're totally out of power, and the overflow sluice is jammed! Swirlers treating the sewage are out, so we can't even seperate the slurry!" The engineer exclaimed, pointing down at the alerts on the display in their control room, and outside, seemingly nothing going on. Lightning Girl was not a sewage works engineer, so she seemed perplexed, because as far as she could see, nothing was urgently wrong.

She had to assume that she was here rather than the engineer because the process would require a lot more than just technical knowledge. Best to ask the engineer for that though, Sophie reasoned.

"The overflow's jammed?"

"Yeah, we can't move it on our emergency power! Can you bring us back online?"

She shrugged, the white-caped, white haired heroine and power, being a combo made for measure. That was her. All over, that was literally her. Push enough of her power into the system and bring itb ack online.

"Sure, why not! What do I have to hit?" She replied, with confidence, but wanting not to break anything like last time. How hard could it be? Very hard, so best to take some time, she reasoned, the engineer pointing a gloved hand out at it.

"Okay, so we need power down there at that panel at the end of the main settlement tank. That'll get the tanks treating again, and it won't build. If worst comes to worst, and the system doesn't reactivate even if you give it power....you'll need to somehow activate the overflow sluice into the secondary tank, by going down that ladder there, and lifting it manually using a turnwheel. Then running across to the secondary tanks and getting power going there so those swirlers activate and treat the water, before we dump all of Claremont's crap into the LA river."

"What if I don't?" Sophie's chirpy voice asked, wanting to know the stakes. Please, don't let it be an explosion of shit. Please.

"The overflow'll blow off all its seals, and you don't want to know." The stakes were set appropriately then. Do, and stop a major environmental disaster, don't, let it happen, and turn an average day into a hell. About what she feared, mostly.

Lightning Girl did not want to imagine it. Already from here, the smell of poo was considerable. It was like a hundred million craps, condensed into one hot, spicy melange of disgust. The odourisers were dead given the power was out, so the sooner it was back online, the better. She nodded to the engineer, with a noble sort of look, and made a move to leap off the gantry and elegantly throw herself into the metal grating and concrete below, running along the side of the enormous main tank.

She ran around the corner and found the control panels, beyond the remote system the main engineer was trying to operate, to no avail as the power had died out. Punching the box and grabbing the lead, Lightning Girl reasoned this was as good of a place. It had to feed into the main system. So this had to work.

And throwing as much power as she could into it. Grabbing a hold of the unit and trying to dump it in....and it chugged, and chugged, and then, the motor seemed to spark back. The motor that had turned the enormous ladle-like swirlers, that separated the water from the sludge in the tanks had come to life, and then died back.

Fuck. That wasn't working. Motor was dead. Okay, even if power was back, that thing had been fried, beyond anything putting voltage would fix. Lightning Girl couldn't tell, and in the end, it didn't matter. She wasn't gonna be able to get the pumps going manually and do anything, as the unit malfunctioned, no longer wanting to play ball. Unless she wanted to clamber over the parapet and physically move the stirrers, but that would be like trying to use a spoon to move the ocean.

In any case, it didn't matter. The fact was, the main tank was getting more full, and the drain wasn't working into the next one, so, it was time to do Plan B. Which was, as the engineer asked, see if she could manually turn open the sluice, LG turning as her cape fluttered, making a beeline for that marker. A painted marker existed on the wall, as Lightning Girl realised this was worse designed than Chernobyl. Except unlike Chernobyl, the consequences weren't exactly nuclear, but at the place she was standing, they may as well have been. Radiation she could deal with, her body didn't seem to really care much about it given her regeneration, it seemed to just absorb the energy. Sewage though? Shit, well, shit was shit.

Soundtrack: Georges Bizet- Carmen (Instrumental)

And who the fuck put an emergency release that close to the emergency sluice gate? It was on a gantry above the pipe between the main tank and the secondary, between the two massive open-air tanks. It was a cavernous place, about three storeys of void below her, the emergency lighting only left on creating an eerie glow. It all seemed stupid.

But time was of the essence as it sounded like the tank was physically getting pressurised, which no sewage tank was going to last long dealing with. It was going to burst if she didn't do something. And that was one hell of a way to die, LG wondered. She would take getting beaten to death by clowns over this on her gravestone. It was morbid, but hey, it kept her in perspective. If you weren't laughing, she thought to herself as she clambered down the ladder, you were crying from how strong the smell was in the chamber.

She ran from the stairs down going to the gantry to where a turnwheel sat by a pipe, used to move up the sluice on the gantry, below her like a chamber of secrets that was more a void of the worst kind. One that would take all the overflow from the main tank into the next chambers, and given the state of the plant, probably out into the LA River. So this wasn't a "win", for anyone at all, not the least LA's wildlife, but it would preserve the plant and LG could probably work out another plan later to get the secondary containment swirlers up and running.

The klaxons still kept going, as the valve began to turn as she hefted it hard with her power, before getting stuck, the gate opening a bit. Some of the hell was released below her manually, but not all of it. The klaxons continued to blare, as the pressure on the plate built, and built, yellow lights flickering around, bouncing off the black of her mask and the white of her suit, as she gave it everything, feeling the entire joint that the gate was on sever off the bracket, suddenly trapping stuck. And as if that wasn't bad enough, her pushing meant the the entire turn wheel just snapped, Lightning Girl swearing as she realised the door was physically jammed now, fully understanding the gravity of the situation. It had been blown off the hinges, but she'd opened a stream when she needed to open a lake's worth of sewage out.

But there was more than a lake behind that door.

And then, the creaking got louder, and louder, higher in the tank above the door.

And it turned from a deep clank to a loud shriek as the sound of it didn't release pressure, but seemingly, encourage more flow towards it.

Lightning Girl realised the entire tank had started to crack along the side, the pressure release meaning the entire thing was going to shear. It was breaking like a dam from the gantry, and before she could think, maybe she could leap up and hold it, maybe there was something in the handle she could salvage, maybe she.....

The metal sluice gate burst as well as the entire bottom half of the tank by the emergency release, releasing not just the material below her feet in the gantry, but above her, where the release absolutely shouldn't have purged.

It wasn't a stream anymore. It was a tidal wave, going out of one tank, into another.

"Oh, shit!"

---

Trying to flush the toilet, James tsk'd, pushing open the stall and looking to Matthieu, who was vigorously trying to unblock a toilet. SDN Claremont's cleaner, was not having any luck either.

"Toilet's still blocked here." James sighed, as Matthieu replied the same too, knowing it was a bullshit day here.

Still, could be worse, as the Brit walked back out, headed to his desk, nodding to the call centre team from across the room who had kept the dispatches in hand, picking his headset on, hearing constant, total complaining. The whole team might.

Friday
15:25
SDN Claremont

Frictionless

"Fucking bullshit! Plant's on emergency measures, but you are out of your fucking mind sending me there James!" He shook his head, sighing as his sister complained, realising fuck, she would never forgive him. But ah well. A job was a job, as he looked out of the window, the kind of laugh quietly forming off comms that came from laughing at a funeral. At least nobody would believe he had his favourites anymore. And she hadn't died so again, positives, it was a low risk job on system but no doubt a high one to her.

It wouldn't be fair to the reader to describe the smell, but, a rough guess could be made of Lightning Girl trying to stay above the clouds as she flew back. With only a provisional wash at the sewage works' staff showers, it wasn't a great look.

Backup treatment was now online, but the rest of the sewage plant had been now a fairly major disaster given how much sewage had decided to detonate it. The whole thing was now the matter of the water company to suck up and take to adjacent sewage treatment works, before it really stank out the neighbourhood. She'd left them with at least an electricity supply hooked up, but it was still a major repair, the kind that took more than one woman with a mobile battery. Not much anyone could do now, but hey, short of sending Waterboy, who the hell would have figured that one out? Did she short it? Or just get really unlucky? Maybe Asteroid would do better? He had smarts on him. Or maybe not, as it turns out from his dispatch comms.

Lightning Girl landed back down by what looked like an emergency exit on the ground floor by SDN Claremont, static shocking the thing and yoinking the door without ripping it out this time, running through past Samson, who had spotted her on the way back from a bathroom break.

"Damn, you smell like you crawled out of a sewer...." Samson commented, his hellish kitten with little paws up on the desk, looking at her, as Sophie scowled, almost so much as growling, and beyond fuming. Bullshit. She'd fucking kill James, sending her to a sewage works? On Gala day? Was he trying to sabotage her chances? Bastard!

She wasn't sure at all what to make of any of this. The smell wasn't entirely going to go. She looked in the mirror with disdain, the white of her suit worse than getting blood all over it. This was going to take way more than a dry clean. She walked into the shower, thinking about how once the secondary tanks were fixed things were fine, but the plant had been damaged more than it should have been, she'd ended up having to bolt her way out of that situation.....and right now, was in that sort of mood where she didn't want to think anything over. With a punch of the button in the showers, she hoped the stink that made a skunk seem like Chanel No5 was going to dissipate, at least, until she could grab the ocean of perfume and face wash she'd brought in her pack up in the breakroom.

With which, she did head on up, suit still sodden and powers absolutely trying to overload the smell, more like a damp ozone, petrichor to be specific, rather than sewage sludge, using paper towels to dry off the ballistic cordura and her face. The perfume as she would learn, did little for now, running up the stairs, checking her watch.

There was still 80 minutes of the shift left. Well, better get back to it, as she sighed, jogging through the office trying not to stay in one spot too long, looking at the sunset catching the horizon outside the windows. Running past her brother she would only give a deathly glance to James- before getting to the smoking area, easily leaping off the balcony as she blasted away, back into sky, trying to find a perch ready for the last stint.

---

Friday
16:58
James's Desk
SDN Claremont

End of Play

Another hour ticked on by. The last dregs of busywork, which was nothing really that notable. For heroes, if it wasn't fighting kaiju, speaking in front of hundreds of people, solving bomb threats, it wasn't going to be. But a gala later, and that slice of Hollywood they were getting to go to, well, that seemed a little different to other Fridays at work.

"Guys, that's us for the day. Everyone, RTB."

As the shift would come to a close, James had the chance to catch up with each hero individually. Sophie, understandably, had avoided James when she came in, still mad, but at least less mad because it was the end of shift, and now, gala time.

Blackstar returned after and might have been in the wake of the electricity-based hero, and she had pulled off quite a successful job earlier on that was a remarkably well executed task. James took an earbud off, and stood up, so he could peer over his half-cubicle better. He didn't often get to see the heroes individually come back from jobs, not beyond small talk.

@cosmiccowgirl

"Nice one, Blackstar. We should probably chat about it properly, but you are on fire, given how that shift went, and SAR couldn't speak highly of you enough. Like, check the leaderboard. I'm not a big fan of it, but, scores don't lie." James pointed to the tick-over it made, and Blackstar's name had clambered higher.

She was 2nd for the branch, behind a record that. Ahead of Lightning Girl, even Payback's hot streak over the week before. For LA, she was in the top 5% of deployed heroes, which for a new starter, was inconceivable. But aside from one or two fails, her deployments had been near flawless, especially in the major ones, two being significantly above KPIs related to completion time and success rate. Beginner's luck? Well, the roll of things she'd been on, maybe she just had that.

"It might not last forever, but honestly, end of month bonus will be very tidy if you keep this rate up by month end. SDN is pretty good at looking after people, not sure if you read it in your contract, but performance bonuses are sweet. Even if you're new." James shrugged, leaning against his desk, looking Blackstar up and down, knowing the shy dark energy heroine was still like Felix, getting used to people.

Blackstar was secretive, cautious. Phoenix Programme could be like that, sure, but a hero on salary? She knew what she signed up for. Being in the line of danger, being daring, confident, all of it, and was still, shy despite performing. And it wasn't an act, a mystery cloak kept to add aura or mystery. Blackstar just genuinely came out that way, and from the heavily redacted personnel file that James had, he knew she was trying to be careful about her past.

Although speaking of the usually shy feline, Felix had turned his head up to her after crawling between James's trousers and decided to flop onto Blackstar's boots, as if he was begging for attention. The mackrel tabby had found a nice bit of her laces to scritch himself against, and seemed content as ever, looking up at her with expectant eyes. Mostly because he'd been microdosed on a bit of catnip that Blackstar had brought in. For a growing boy, Felix was now getting tangled up in his green.

"Aww. He likes you. I think he knows who brings him the best supplies. He was off his face earlier. Super cute." James added, humoured by it, as he leaned back, finishing his cup of tea.

--

@SonnetNSunbeam

Asteroid was up next. He looked a little dishelved. He'd been out there what felt like hours with the old women. Poor bastard, James thought, as he let Blackstar go and looked over to him. Two black suited heroes, both with astral powers. Were they siblings too? Nah, Asteorid sounded like a preppie, Blackstar a southern tone.

"You really gotta learn when to say no to old ladies, Asteroid, I don't need to give you a training course to tell you that....." James chuckled, hoping that he wouldn't take too much offense, but a little gentle banter would go a while. As far as James could tell, he hadn't killed anyone in prison, so he was probably safe on that front.

"Anyway, keep up the good work, even if that was a miss, can't get 'em all. Diffused the situation at the cost of losing yourself to them, that's what I wrote in the report. Anyway. I'll catch up with you next week about that parole paperwork yeah?" James went back his comment from earlier, knowing that Asteroid had that to hang onto at least. And even in a low, he could offer some reassurance now.

---

@BigPapaBelial

The same went for Hat Trick, the upbeat, hockey-ready armoured Canadian a weird parallel to Matt, when James really thought about it. But he was getting it done. Reliable, always there, and smelling sweet, not shitty.

"Hey, big man. Nicely dealt with the tanker. Clean work. And thanks for the reminder about PR bits. Appreciate you covering a bit more than you're used to." James commented, realising he did have something for him.

"Clara faxed this across to me. Regional Marketing Lead, as you know.....shit, sorry, I mean Sunburst. She says she wants to catch up at some point next week with you, no idea what it was about. You'll probably make sense more than I do, but it's more on team-specific PR, billboards, marketing, that kind of thing here, and something she said you might be able to support on. Don't worry about it, but I nearly forgot." James said, passing across a stapled together booklet of papers, containing a bunch of emails, Hat Trick likely to be in the loop but James just giving a reminder.

Clara had emailed James to get onto Hat Trick while he was out working the streets, so, it seemed an appropriate time now to pass things on.

"I'll let you get dressed, should be a big night for you. I'm sure you'll have some showstopping suit, if I know what you're like...." James joked, smiling, looking over as the next hero was on their way in. "Anyway, see ya laters." He nodded, letting him go, knowing the man had places to be, suits to put on, and things to prepare for.

---

@Ezekiel

Last, but not least, Ikret. She may have been last back, but James guessed she'd likely wanted to have finish sooner, or at least, was trying not to raise attention on the first day as a fallen Icarus. Majestic as ever coming back inside, sarky, and James thought to call back to their earlier chat, picking up where they'd left off earlier.

"Nice one. For someone who tells me they doesn't behave, I'll take that. Turns out you know what you're doing, who'd have thought." He chuckled with a lick of sarcasm, looking over the heroine, fiddling with the pen in his hand.

"Things can get a bit more mental around here, so today's a chilled day. And, some of the other heroes will appreciate someone who's a good operator in the team when it does get hairy. Have a chat with them when you get a chance. They'll look up to you a lot. Blackstar definitely will have to, cos you know, you're taller." James added with a more serious tone yet keeping a lick of sarcasm in the end, not having much to say, the doors opening on the far side with two navy-blue uniformed police officers not moving too urgently being his cue to have a catch up of his own.

"Ah, yeah, they were coming by. Nothing to worry about, local liason meeting. Changing rooms are downstairs as I imagine you've already decided to dress up very fancy. I think we're all meeting by reception in half an hour." James turned off the console as with that, and stood out of his chair, letting Ikret get going, and before the team would head off, getting his meeting in with the fine officers of the LAPD.

---

Friday
17:10
Meeting Room
SDN Claremont

Bad Boys, Bad Boys

James sat in the boardroom, as the two police officers sat from across from him. The office was mostly quiet now, given the heroes were getting dressed, sorting their own admin out, and getting ready to go for the Gala. James had his own business to sort here first though, and a tux to quickly fit into after it was all said and done.

He sighed looking at the board that the two officers had brought in, and reflecting on what they'd just been talking about. It was a bit too heavy for a Friday night. But Superhero Liaison was literally what he'd done back in the UK's Superhuman Response Unit, a quasi-government monitoring agency that worked with police and GCHQ to co-ordinate resources and allocation, as well as deal with superpowered villains on a daily. Not quite like SDN, because in the US, they basically did that themselves. Having the police on side though, that was handy, and they had their own interest to stay ahead of the curve. Keeping the city's heroes on side too, was plenty enough.

"So you think that Pyress.....Queen Bitch, and Kevin the Destroyer, of all people, are linked? And Gaggle the Clown wasn't."

The female officer leaned across, nodding. Officer Hayle, as far as James had gathered. She'd been there the night things went down at the Claremont College dorms and Lightning Girl had come out on response, so she knew full well how supers worked. She spoke up first.

"Gaggle worked alone. That's an NSA problem, not ours. Whereas those there.....we're working on leads and we think there's something to it."

The board seemed ominous. How was a flame-throwing drug dealer, a roided up manosphere college student, and a narcissist that threw explosive glitter were linked, while in prison? Some link existed to Red Ring, sure, but what link at all? James didn't know what to say.

"Sure." James seemed skeptical, but not without reason. Of course there would be a ripple effect. Some gangsters fighting each other. It would happen. He didn't have anything to add, really, because he wasn't paid to investigate the root causes of crimes. He was there to manage a team of sometimes fuckheaded, sometimes decent heroes that would get the job done when other resources didn't work. Or subscribers dialled SDN's number before 911.

The older of the two police officers in the room leaned forwards, more, sighing.

"Listen. Only reason Officer Hayle thinks we should talk to you is because you're the only people that can fight supers on their own level. We don't have time for heroic bullshit. We need to find out who's in control of what's left of the Red Ring in the San Fernando Valley. And we are thin on the ground, so any suggestions are welcome." The Lieutenant began, sizing up James. As if he could control it himself. James knew that wasn't the case, as the senior officer across from him continued.

"We think there's the usual suspects. People they report to. But someone else is steering Shroud's empire from the shadows. Moving drugs. Guns. Augments. Contraband. Real threats. And that's why we're really interested in them. They weren't acting alone. Someone told them to come here to Claremont, and stir up trouble. And whoever is in charge, they're a step ahead of us. They took out half the suspects that were robbing banks and stores this week in Pasadena. We think something's up because the usual shtick ain't happening." He pointed to the board and pulling back, the post it note with a question mark on it, black pen on pink paper, probably saying it all.

And the lines detached out, with some question marks to a few others. Doctor Helix? Brick Frog? And lots of other unknown, shady figures. It seemed odd to have them there, but it felt like none of them were necessarily the mark they were looking for.

Great. A stereotypical cop that was nearly at retirement and didn't like supers, and his protégé, a young, bright-eyed cop that looked up to supers. No way this wasn't gonna be a cliche even worse than it was. James sighed, shaking his head, thinking on the last few months. The news, what had come out. All of the mess with the Red Ring. Fuck, that was an intense one Torrance and DTLA had dealt with. Sophie told him about the flames across the other side of the city. All manner of shit turning upside down. Nowhere near as bad as '92, but still, an insane blowout.

"Red Ring, huh? Thought they were all behind bars. Whoever's left has a lot to live up to Shroud's reputation." James reacted, as Officer Hayle sipped down her cup of donut-shop coffee, cutting off her superior, the Lieutenant likely to react worse.....

"They're trying harder without making it known who they are. And they seem to be choosing order over chaos right now. No big bank jobs, jewellery store heists, nothing this week. They're sucking up all the work all the gangs left behind, tested us with....who we arrested. We've come across a lot of gangland murders.....all of them are brutal. Making it clear they're not interested in petty squabbles. Detective Bureau think they're cleaning loose ends." Officer Hayle's way of putting it was loose, but the Lieutenant's wasn't.

"That of course, you don't get called out to deal with." The Lieutenant seemed almost pissed off. Like SDN was taking all the glory. And the LAPD weren't getting their share of any, rather, just the misery. James had to empathise with that. Wrong person to point that at, though.

"Someone seems to be doing this much, much more organised than just a normal gang, they....they're like the cartels but with villains. They know how to avoid hitting the hornet's nest, mostly, avoiding SDN. Stirring things up with heroes in direct fights seem to be off their cards. They're picking up business, and hoping we don't notice. We have no ID, nobody's snitching, everyone keeps saying it's Red Ring, and nothing more." Officer Hayle replied, as James folded his arms, leaning back.

"So then why are you here? All due respect, I'm...."

"Look, we thought it might be best to liaise with you. Whatever they're doing, this clearly goes higher. And your heroes are going to see things we don't. Find intel, weapons, caches, everything. Find something that puts this together. Because there's a good chance we don't, they'll get bolder. Start making plays Shroud wasn't willing to. They're not in this for revenge. They're in this for dominance of the market. And once that happens, they'll do whatever it takes to protect their bottom line. Including going after the LAPD, and supers." Officer Hayle added, cutting off the Lieutenant's thoughts, given she had taken the imitative to put this whole thing forwards.

"So you suggest we hit them first. Wherever they are. Right. That changes how we do things, Officer.....and that's above my paygrade. We're not a private militia for hire. We're a first response, under licence, independent. Tell us where to go when you have a bust and we'll go." James stated the obvious, wanting to see how this played out. He had to be careful here. Not like around Valerie, but more because saying the wrong thing, would get him in a whole heap of legal trouble.

"Maybe, but whoever at the top is going to keep pushing all of our resources until we push back. Hard." The Lieutenant cleared his throat, "I'm not putting my people at risk. I need a little more co-operation from SDN, James." He seemed to imply it was James's responsibility to do that a little more strongly than it was SDN's.

The circus had earned them plenty of plaudits locally. The Lieutenant wasn't so convinced.

"Well, I suppose you pay SDN to do that. We'll keep our ears to the ground. We've got a good team here, so when we know something, you'll know. I can't do detective work on top of running the A-Team." James replied, hoping that would be enough. It wasn't, as the Lieutenant leaned forwards, cutting off the younger officer.

"Back in the day, villains were put in ADX. Now it's all bullshit because I know Asteroid is out. Let alone Madcap and Eclipse. Jesus. Motherfuckers are probably drinking all that Kool-Aid." The Lieutenant seemed to play his cards there and then.

James didn't react, as even Officer Hayle seemed surprised, a little taken aback. She wanted progress, at least something, but fuck, was Dan Mason being an asshole right here and now to their best lead. He was jaded. Beyond done with this. Didn't care about how he came across, as she looked to James with a certain glimmer, beyond an offical capacity yet eschewing one, that it wasn't the line. James knew that Madcap in the B-Team wasn't his business to comment on, but even so, he was glad he couldn't make a reply to that and the junior officer did.

"Look, we need to put pieces together on why they came to Claremont in the first place. We think whoever it is, knows how the Red Ring's people worked. And before things escalate, we appreciate any help. If you know anything, anything at all, call us direct. We need to work together here. I know you need to go, so....." She added, the officer aware their time was up, and James hadn't been a helpful lead.

Standing up, James walked to the door as the other two shifted out of their seats, the day turning into night faster and faster outside the office window.
"Got it. I'll get in touch. Thanks for coming by." James really didn't have many words. It was a lot to take in. And he was burnt out. Who knew, a consultant could get tired and run out of energy for work, this kind at least. He'd come back to them with something more proper, as he held it open, looking out, all heroes gone, all likely getting set up.

"I believe I've got a social engagement. We'll catch up next week." James held it open, as the two police officers took that as a sign to leave. They were here on a social call, more than a formal query or questioning down at the station. So with that, what felt like an impromptu update was done.

The team would have 30 minutes to get changed, and James messaged the team to meet at the reception area when everyone was ready. He'd already did his End of Shift Report, and all the paperwork that nobody in the team really needed to know about.

All his stuff was done, and well, that meant only one thing. Giving Felix a quick stroke, he reached to his bag and pulled out the vaccum-sealed bag, opening it up, and chuckling. This better have fucking fit, he thought to himself, as he took off his work shirt and started to get changed.

Bit by bit, it all came together, as he headed to the break room, finding Hat Trick.

@BigPapaBelial

"Ah, shit. I forgot to mention, we're downstairs. Looking good. You look like you're from, what's the game.....ahh, forget it." James would only be seen by Hat Trick in his Gala suit, and well, it was a rather traditional tux, no power, nothing quite like what the large Canadian had. Hat Trick would realise what James was dressed in, as they headed to the lifts and made their way down.

Saints Row, that was it! He didn't want to say it now, James feeling like Hat Trick would occupy a lot more of the lift than him, but then again, nothing got past the Canadian, on ice, in the office, and no doubt, in the PR with this event no doubt.

---

Friday
17:29
Locker Rooms / Reception
SDN Claremont

Glitterball

Lightning Girl had just about finished. Looking in the mirror in the women's locker room, she smiled, a teethy, white grin with red lip on, as she adjusted her glove a little, making a move towards the doors. The others hadn't emerged yet, so the surprise was still on.

Soundtrack: Purple Disco Machine, ÁSDÍS - Beat Of Your Heart

Stepping out from the changing rooms downstairs and into the reception, Lightning Girl re-appeared, albeit suit removed, and someone else entirely on display. The dress was a shimmery, holo-like silvery-like colour, a bandage dress that seemed to take different strands of bandage-like fabric across her chest, with one larger piece in the abdomen and legs. It pushed her chest out but seemed fairly modest for what some might have compared it to a strapless design, albeit did come with a cut in the left leg that went up to the hip at a tuck of fabric, showing off a slice her pale-coloured leg, Lichtenberg scars visible. The same at her upper arms, where her muscle and her scars could be seen, like braids and rivers that seemed not to take any logical path from when she'd first been hit.

A set of silvery, rubber set gloves, up to her elbows obscured the rest, having a very shiny sheen in them. With her white hair parted over one side of her head, carbon fibre mask still across eyes and forehead, this seemed like a version of Lightning Girl that Sophie had wanted to unleash for a very, very long time. A version of shine, probably far more than anything Valerie would have been comfortable with. It showed off her beauty, her easy charm that hours ago, was nothing much beyond the white hair. It magnified her out, and with a pair of white heels on, put her to a height where she might be breathing in Hat Trick's air.

But Lightning Girl reasoned, forgiveness was easier to get than permission, right? And well, Ikret would likely have something just as shiny up her sleeve, Sophie guessed. Two shiny heroes was better than none. Or as it turned out, three, given Hat Trick's suit.

James and Hat Trick would appear from out of the lift, tuxedo on, having gotten dressed in the empty offices upstairs. A budget Bond? Well, the suit hire place had basically laughed at him with the fact he was British, but well, it was all they had in his size. He didn't have a full bore business suit that would fit the gala. So, tux it was. It strangely worked for him, black bow tie and he adjusted his smart watch on his wrist up to his cuff.

She looked across to her brother, a grin forming on her face, looking to the others. Who were all dressed up just as pretty, and no doubt, had their own swell as they would come out one by one.

"You look like Bond if he had problems with sunburn, James." Lightning Girl simply blurted, giving into impulse upon seeing him.

James folded his arms across his chest, sighing. "Well, you're such a try hard. Didn't someone tell you that you didn't need to be a mirrorball?" He jabbed right under the ribs.

The Gallagher brothers were one thing, but the Speights were without announcing any knowledge that the team would have, still a little their own. Instead of taking that on, Lightning Girl looked to Hat Trick, and his beautiful looking suit, glancing to the others with a "are you seeing this shit" kinda look before opening her mouth.

"Well, aren't you looking dapper. Purple and gold. You're feeling all regal, aren't you. Unlike our dispatcher, who's just a discount secret agent." She said with her most elequent, 19th century stereotype of a Downton Abbey accent in full, knowing Hat Trick would likely lap that up, because if he didn't enjoy a good PR occasion. The man was a lovable, gentle giant and while he may not have had the glamour of other heroes, he certainly had the glitz and was every workplace's feelgood guy.

Lightning Girl looked to the others as they turned up, seeing lights come on outside. Their ride was here. A blacked out limo that could fit the team, from the lightning-based Brit's ego to the wings of Ikret.

"Ready?" She asked the others, watching them come in, one by one, ready to give all the compliments when they turned up.

Because walking outside, with a door already open, the now capeless hero wasn't waiting for an invitation but instead threw herself headfirst, pulling herself up, leaning back in against leather.

"Okay, this is the good stuff! I mean they told us we can't all show off by turning up and flying or leaping there so this was it but.....we're going in a limo to Hollywood! Ahhhh!" She nearly shrieked, as if 17 year old her, as would literally anyone that would have been her age, now got to live out a fantasy, aged 29. This was the stuff of dreams for Lightning Girl, maybe not for some of the others, even to Ikret, another day. But to her, it was pretty sweet.

"Like genuinely, as a kid I never imagined this would happen. I know it's a work occasion but come on, this is cool, right? Oh, we should probably get a photo in while we're here!" Lightning Girl asked the others, a genuine smirk on her face, in spite of earlier's incident.

She seemed to have an ability to remain cheerful, but the main reason was that she had taken on lots more power when returning, and made a very strong mental note that she was going to have to be careful to touch, as she pulled out her phone from a pocket inside the dress, one she was very grateful to have. Leaning back, she posed her head in, and beckoned for the others, even Blackstar, who was no doubt cringing. A teethy grin, because she wasn't going to forget this moment for the world.

And even for James, a smile grew on his face, from earlier, from all the chats he seemed to have, her obsessive, almost demanding want to be there coming over more than anything. This was her dream, he told himself. And for one night, even if the smell of poo needed a lot more perfume than Sophie was expecting to cover, he had to be only a little bit proud of himself even in spite of this being work. Sitting at the end as the others all folded themselves in, from the tall Hat Trick to the.....width, mostly due to wings, Ikret, to Lightning Girl having to make sure her dress didn't catch on a seatbelt. Once that was done, the limo set off and they were Hollywood-bound, and it was only a matter of time until someone discovered that a bottle of Champagne had been left inside across from where they were sitting.

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

Day 2: 06:31:01
Polavian Standard Vodka Distillery,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

With the combatants down, from Rowan sucking out the mana from Yelenka, to Silas crowd-controlling a batch of dogs, to then Borys heroically trying, yet not quite completing a finishing move on the warlock, the noise had calmed down quite a bit, the scene still a cluster. Yelenka had blinked out, before anything more could be done, and where she was, was unknown.

The smoke was sill drifting, as the dust settled from bullets and rounds all over the place, the smell overwhelmingly of cherry vodka. It stank, to high heaven, the massive tank in the corner of the room offering samples leaking everywhere creating a ethanol-y, sweet smell that trickled past boots.

But they had created a window. A way out. Apart from the rest of Yelenka's friends.

"Okay, exit through gift shop it is then!" Felix put down rounds down range, dropping a couple of PSA militants with accurate fire, Oksana flanking around and hurling a bottle of vodka in what was now a signature move since the bar from yesterday evening, to draw another away, before he was shot in the head by another member of the team.

She skipped the barrier and moved to the entry, grabbing a "Tourist Map of Novy Jork", not that she needed it, but the team might later, checking the lobby as Felix moved through and the team would follow, the militants finally having run out.

"Brief tour. I think we should leave. Cars?" Oksana asked, nodding outside at where the Mercedes, BMWs and Audis were parked, Felix shaking his head.

"PSA's are too hot. That way. Towards the blocks!"

Running out of the factory, Felix's bag clinked a little, as Oksana looked up at him, with a scowl, having not realised he'd of course taken bottles as loot while passing by. The sound of police sirens could be heard, closing in faster, and faster.

Hopping a fence at the front of the facility and crossing another train line, the sound of sirens could roll out as Felix looked across at the team, Roxy very much aware that they all, bar Rowan, and at most perhaps Borys and Upswing, all looked like a bunch of mercenaries suited for field work rather than urban casual.

"Fuck! We're not shooting police, Felix!" Oksana yelled, as they made their way out of the factory grounds.

"Well, we're avoiding them!" Leaving the beautiful brickwork behind and immediately heading across into the concrete that Upswing had come from, into Novi Grad, it felt like they were putting distance between them and sirens, at least, for the moment being.

The New City.

---

Day 2: 06:51:02
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Novi Grad was a misnomer, as this was the Communist-era part of the Novy Jork and no longer the newest part, and a lot of it was in quite a dilapidated state. Unlike Stary Grad, the where Novy Jork Castle sat and the beautiful medieval ruins, or Zloty Targ, the shiny, modern, tech hub, Novi Grad was where things had happened, thirty years ago. Industry, productivity, and most of all, current day depression. This wasn't the airy vibes of the DSR, it felt oppressive here.

Novi Grad was mostly industry, but the blocks of resident flats were about five storeys high, mostly had elevators that were broken, if they had them at all, and was peak, peak communist behaviour.

Residents were awake, but didn't seem to care that a PMC-originating team were running between the blocks, past children's play equipment and allotment gardens, most of them attuned specifically, to not make a fuss. Such was life in Polavia. Open carrying like this was a stupid idea though for long, Felix reasoned, and Oksana couldn't help but agree, pointing out an entry.

"In there!" She yelled, as Felix turned, the door open and revealing a stairway.

Moving up and inside, the block was not perfect, but enough to make some decisions out of, as the team headed up a couple of storeys, up the stairs, passing by an extremely shitfaced man who was leaning against a wall, Oksana firing a look at Borys, begging him to say nothing.

Felix sighed, taking a turn towards what looked like a door that seemed partly caved in. "Here?" Felix asked, as Oksana shrugged, and with it, the team lead took his fibre wire. With a dangle of the cable, he pushed it out and checked his phone, revealing what looked like a fairly dilapidated place. It wasn't lived in. At least, it hadn't been for a long, long time. Cable back out, Felix realised Roxie had already kicked the door, and was moving on in, despite Felix not giving the order. She'd already seen that coming, the all clear, as Felix realised the same.

Breaking inside the apartment, Roxie kept the lights on her PP-19 at flank, as Felix covered front, the team checking the area and securing it. The place was a ruin, abandoned, perhaps, the drunk guy had found a ground floor room and left this second floor alone. Because outside of bottles scattered, a disgusting old sofa, and a table in the main kitchen, it seemed bare.

"Clear." Oksana called, moving towards a window and hearing more gunfire. Shit. PSA and Police weren't tied up. At least not these cops. This was a fucking hellhole. They'd never been this brave before. She'd never heard anything outside of gangsters. This was something else. She moved back inside, peering out, as Felix looked to her, glancing at someone else who he hoped would at least push the door back into place.

"What a mess. Who was that, Roxy? And she knew Borys? Gods!" The shapeshifter felt like he was only now exhaling, leaning against wall, shaking head.

"Yelena Strulovich. Warlock."

That rung no name to Felix, as he sat down, exhaling hard, taking off his hat and wiping his forehead.

"Well, Borys didn't kill her, for sure. She blinked out. We'll see her again. Scary bitch, her and half the PSA want our heads." Felix stated the obvious, as Oksana nodded, very much so seeing that.

"Yeah, warlocks are. We did well. Borys thrived on that. Silas kept us all alive. And Rowan is still public enemy number one. We know that. But what else is new. Upswing, was it? This is normally how it goes. Welcome to the team." She retorted as if she was on edge, Butterfly, as Borys rightly called her, rolling up her sleeves and looking out the window to see if any more heat was going on, before looking back.

"Back to the blocks. Gods. May as well get changed and stop fucking around. Anyone, if you want a change of clothes and gear, let me know. Time to find out if long distance extraction glpyhs are still it and can carry clothing, when you put that much rattlesnake dye into them. Probably best we don't go full open carry in Novy Jork, so best to leave long guns and plate carriers hidden under the floorboards. Not unless we want to get shot by police in the street." She looked to the group, Felix sighing, nodding as he headed to the kitchen, checking the bare place over, the cupboards and shelves empty, but some tools left behind.

A prybar would do enough, as he avoided a broken floorboard and picked it up, coming back in and ready to open up the floor to make a reliable hide-hole.

Roxy had broke out the spray can and sprayed a simple pentagram from the prepared glyph paint they'd put together earlier, with a bit of glyph, with another one next to it. Passing her SVU, PP-19 and vest to Felix, she finished up the paint.

"Be right back." And suddenly, the witch disppeared with like that with a tuft of smoke and spark.

---

Within a few minutes, Roxie stepped back through the void, having taken the team's small arms away, back to the barn where they'd been this morning.

"Urgh. That was weird. Really messes with my vision." She was now dressed more informally, her olive tactical pack significantly more loaded up as she wore a black, full body woolen coat and a black witch's hat, PM pistol/wand hidden underneath the wool coat. A pair of trainers rather than boots, black gloves to avoid leaving prints, some mascara that seemed like she'd applied it far too quick, with a bit of lip that had turned her into someone totally different. Rowan might have had her simple transform spells, Roxy prefered.....the old ways. With her hair tucked differently and a simple cast turning it coal black, she looked half different, gone was the Watcher-Witch, now seemed to appear someone who looked more.....traditional, Witch. She threw Felix his bundle of clothes, and Silas and Borys, if they wanted theirs, their spares.

"You look like you've come back from the spa with that coat, Roxy." Felix chuckled, as she tsk'd, ignoring his comment, looking out of the window, then back. It wasn't warm at all in Novy Jork, barely 10C, so a woolen coat like that still would have made sense. Even if it looked like something from a spa. He had put his plate carrier into his bulkier tactical pack, and switched to a tracksuit bottom and top set,

It was at this point, that the table was opened up a little.

"So, Pavel, if I know him, is almost permanently at the Grand Polavian, off Palinka Street. Opposite the massive Town Hall. You can't miss it. But he won't be back until the evening. He does business across the city. He's a fixer." Oksana leaned against the table with the tourist map of Novy Jork on it.

Felix leant across, broken record as he was, knowing spirits had to be kept high. Morale had to. Somehow. And they needed this to end.

"We're this close to the end. We need to get to Pavel, and call it a day, Roxy, we are way, way over our heads. Hunting down whatever..."

"Oh, so let me see. It doesn't matter. They're going to hunt Rowan to the end of the earth. And you." She poked a finger against his chest, sighing, as she looked to Borys, Silas, Upswing and Rowan, sighing.

"Paperwork to get us out is helpful, but we are getting into constant gunfights, being chased by police, PSA, a Tier One caster unit from the DSR. Now Upswing wants to find Rowan. I imagine it's to do with the psychoactive shit they were planning on putting in vodka bottles. Well. If that was a trial run, what the fuck are those bastards up to?" Oksana felt like she was beating the same drum, over, and over, and over. Looking to Rowan, who had brought it all up. What had happened in Kalan. And to Borys. Who was still recovering from being hungover. To Silas. Who was along for the ride with his old comrades, and deserved better than this.

"I want a day without getting shot so we can figure out what is going on. Pavel knows if your Babushka farted, so he might have some answers. Or at the least, where I might be able to go to get some answers. Even if you lot run." Oksana was clearly heated, realising this was more personal to a lot of the stuff in Polavia. Shit. No matter how much she ran, she ended up back here, always back in a battle.

Always up against a wall. Her life in the DSR was dead, and here, it seemed like the nemesis of her past seemed to rear her head. No point trying to run again.

Felix flicked his fingers through the tourist map, shrugging. "Okay. Well, we're civies now. We could blend in. CCTV isn't hot around here. So it gives us room to breathe, let's go on that, Roxy. Figure out a plan...we can do that at least until we see Pavel and we can talk then about what next." He looked down at the map, putting hand to chin, thinking.

This was quite different to where they'd been before.

No more corridors, no more being hunted and chased.

Now, they were incognito. And while splitting up seemed like the greatest risk, they could at least now, do whatever they wanted. Guns were hidden away under the floorboards, as was any tactical clothing that might give them up walking amongst people.

They were finally given a sandbox, as Novy Jork's map was before them.

---

"A few things would be handy. Ideas?" Oksana put it to the team, knowing that scouting, getting bearings, or at least, some semblance of control would be a pleasure in the next few hours.

"More potions would be good." Felix queried, knowing Rowan had a serious stash back at Roxy's Babushka's house, but, it wouldn't help to make more healing stuff. Felix had already downed a bunch of it after being shot, for the wound that Silas hadn't gotten to.

"Here. Alejka Czarownika. Sorcerer's Alley. Best newts this side of the mountains. They take cash."

"Good. That's a visit. Also, food. I'm fucking starving. Those PSA militants have nothing on their bones. Something for lunch at least." Felix added, the fact he was so hungry he could eat a horse right there, but Roxy deciding not to take it. They'd been through enough shit in the last 12 hours.

Food seemed odd to prioritise, but, it made sense for morale. Kept everyone going.

Oksana chuckled. "I know a place. Milk bar. Here. Cheap."

Felix looked. "Milk bar?"

Oksana realised he didn't quite understand Polavian customs. "It does good food. Vegetarian too so you don't have to worry. And now, they do takeaway with thermos flasks. New customs but good old communist gruel at Uncle Josef's."

Felix chuckled. "Wow. Okay. That would be handy."

Roxy nodded, looking across the map, Felix pointing to the floorboards where they'd hidden their long guns.

"We also need more ammo, or guns. Hate to say it, but we are nearly out of bullets." Oksana noted, as the ginger team lead nodded.

"My 417's got one last mag and my supply of home-made shells for the Masterkey is running out."

"There's still a market here on Kotlin Street. It has a black market, where you can buy almost anything. Including Western bootlegs. There's a guy here, Janek, who also sells Vessels. For the right price, he can find you anything." Oksana pointed to the map again, noting that well, in a capital city, came some seriously, seriously spicy shit to add to arsenal. "For the right price. We haven't got much cash. So anything to make it go further, or, an ability to get some more, would be handy. I'm not into robbing banks."

"Fair enough. Unless you're willing to do some very unethical shit with your craft. And last thing we need is more attention, so whatever it is, be careful." Felix noted, looking across the map, before thinking more generally.

"So be it.....what else. Oh, transport would be good. While the trams are good, finding some way of driving on the roads, once things calm down, would be handy."

"Right. Nobody is stealing Ladas. I object to that one, not being a folk hero but stealing from the poor doesn't seem like a bright idea. And Rowan might prefer a nicer car. Someone could....hmmm, The Bourse is here, and has lots of fancy cars."

"Since when did we become criminals?"

"I don't think we're the good guys anymore, Felix. Last I checked, Upswing has been living this life. Urban SERE. Do whatever you have to in order to survive."

"You suggested going to a Milk Bar to buy potato and carrot soup with pierogi, on BoberEats."

Roxy shrugged. "They aren't on delivery services. Again, cash only. And we steal from the rich to give to poor old us." She smiled, as Felix leaned in, looking across the rest.

"Anyone else have any ideas? We need to make a list."

Felix leaned out, having taken any ideas on, and took out a waterproof notepad from his pocket that he'd liberated from his plate carrier, useful for making on the go notes. So with a pencil in hand, he could fill it in, with the various bits that they were brainstorming.

"Well. We have things to do. Everyone pick at least one thing from the list so it completes the bunch. We'll agree what we want, and what we can get from each. If we want ammo and guns, ask, and the others fix. Remember. Nobody raise too much attention. We meet back here for 3pm, pick up guns, load into duffels and carry them to the hotel. We need some money for the hotel, so hang onto something." Felix added, looking across, sighing out.

"We're not done yet. But once we're at the hotel, this fucking thing might be over." Felix said, knowing deep down, this whole job was anything but.

---

The team had a unique opportunity to go out and for at least the next nine hours, sample. They'd find themselves back at the apartment when they were complete, able to tag with each other.

A modern, vibrant, Eastern European-adjacent city was open to them, full of trams, corruption, post-communist relics and modern settings, markets, both of the traditional and black market variety, to tourist sights.

Tasklist (as written by Felix):

-Find a Safehouse
-Buy more channels / guns (Kotlin Street Black Market)
-Buy more ammunition (Kotlin Street Black Market)
-Buy vessels, glyphs, potions (Czarownika Alley)
-Buy questionable Polavian takeout food (Uncle Josef's Milk Bar)
-Pick up duffel bags (stolen, bought, whatever)
-See the sights (optional)
---Novy Jork Castle
---Silk Alley Market
---Lanin's Statue
-Steal a Car (heated seats, please!)
-Defraud the Polavian Taxpayer (Optional)
-Get Money or Die Trying
-(Rowan's, Borys's, Upswing's and Silas's ideas)

-Meet Pale Pavel (Grand Polavian)

---