Recent Statuses

3 yrs ago
If there are RPs/PM's I need to reply to- I am working on it, I'm a little overladen in life atm. I haven't forgotten about you :)
4 yrs ago
Aaand back.
4 yrs ago
ALERT- I'm going AFK for a week, anyone that sees this on here, I won't be about to respond, this is to both 1x1s/RPs.


I've RP'd for the best part of over five years now here on the Guild, and particularly like military settings, both contemporary, past and near future. I have even dabbled in a little more experimental RPs, as well as created a plethora of 1x1s over my time in the guild. I've spent time in many an RP, and like creating RPs with a distinct flavor.

I'm pretty flexible and try and get back to people on ideas and responses, but sometimes, I may become very busy and it will take some time till I am un-busy- though I always come back!

Most Recent Posts

Everyone else’s post makes me feel so pitiful with the size of mine v.v I know there needs to be one with the smallest but I can’t help but feel self conscious XD

Size doesn't always matter- in some ways your character is a smaller target! :p

Feel free to chat with Max (anyone)- he's blunt but a good laugh!
A new start, Max thought to himself as he yawned loudly, further down the quay from the cargo vessel he'd been commanded to be near and walking towards the rest of the team. While Max was a disciplined and stoic individual, a lion's yawn was not something you got rid of easily, given how much he absolutely loved sleep. No matter how many years he'd served and how disciplined he was, a good bed and just doing nothing was time to enjoy, savor and take in before the world came back and threw its intensity right back. It was time to think, recuperate, rest; before being ready for it all again.

Well, today was time to get back to something and not be sleepy. While a new start was always a lie, he thought to himself, the easygoing Warrant Officer Maxwell Fitzroy Bastion was at least aware that something kept as quiet as this was always going to be interesting. And well, it beat hanging around his old CO.

He was wearing the full fatigues of a reconnaissance specialist in the RSDF, from a pair of sturdy boots to a long-sleeve shirt and trouser combo camoflaged in a light grey-brown, his golden fur short and well kept as the lion headed over towards the rest, a black duffel bag over his shoulder filled with his personal possessions and equipment. He looked smart, the mark of a special forces soldier no less, Max looking like he was a grunt like any other...if you didn't look at his face. His mane was left just the way he liked it, brushing in the wind and almost blowing into his eyes, a surfer's choice almost. While his whiskers were short, he did have the look of someone who was definitely experiencing the morning.

Even the other lion he had known about in this whole organisation, General Versco no less, was much more professional, more honorable and smart. Lions were the height of sophistication some would say, loyal and neat guards that were neither brutes nor timid when in their service. The cynical truth was, Max thought to himself, was that it didn't really exist when you had your back up against the wall. And not when you didn't really fit in like everyone else. When you're a recon operative, rules go out the window.

Coming into line, he looked at the others, taking in the Captain, and the other three that had assembled here so far. All were shorter than him, bar the brown bear, who towered over the others in a way that wasn't very hard to explain. The Captain, Silverwind Blade was a figure even Max had heard stories about, the one-armed cyclops a formidable GEARS pilot and veteran of conflicts come by. Worn and weathered, but older and capable of commanding a unit like this. Accented too, from what he could overhear when he spoke with the smaller ensign, it just wasn't easily placed. And well, happy to crack a joke at least. This was already better than his last CO. If Silverwind looked after him, Max would return the favor. He owed that much at least.

The Bear, the Ibex and the Otter, on the other hand, he couldn't entirely tell. The former seemed quiet, almost shy, Max thought to himself. But probably not a great idea to piss him off if he did have an opinion. The reason Max had his scar was because he'd gotten into a fight with a Polar Bear, no less. No matter what training you have, or how ballsy you were, he now knew you just picked your fights a little better. So it made sense that he'd be the one carrying heavier weaponry- a team like this needed someone who was happy to bring ordinance to the party, even if he seemed very young compared to the others.

While the Ibex seemed....familiar to war, albeit in a different way. She was older, but weathered from war- a medic of some kind, it would appear. Neat and clean, yet like any Ibex that Max had already met, stubborn and straight to the point. Efficiency above all, but something said internally to him that she wasn't like Max in that way- someone in favor of order rather than the flow of chaos. A scout, someone used to the wilds, but something different. The otter, Max just couldn't get any bead on. Apart from being tiny, he could only guess she was here as the tech specialist, if her equipment seemed to suggest that- and getting back to her feet after that little trip to the floor.

And Max? Well, to the others no doubt, he was as proud as any lion could be, standing with his back straight and ready to attention, looking to the others with a gentle glance. Rough around the edges, but ready to do his work as the eyes of this team as he listened to Silverwind's brief.

"Understood, Captain." Max replied to Silverwind, giving a gentle nod as he looked to the other three, following behind the squirrel and the fox onto the vessel being loaded with transportation crates. Looking over his shoulder to the others, he guessed he had to try and break through somewhat, at least make some impression.

"I'm just hoping for some coffee on board. I'm feeling it this morning." Max added to the others. His accent could be more distinguished now, an undertone that was harsh albeit inviting, like he wasn't trying to scare the others but for someone smaller, easily could have come out like that.

He really couldn't do smalltalk, but hey, at least he was trying to compensate for his faults this morning.

Where they were going, he didn't know. What they were doing, he didn't know. But somehow, Max felt oddly optimistic for even his pragmatic self.
@Silverwind Blade

Cheers! I'll get to work on getting stuck in! :)
So, I got bored and started writing away for a gap that I think you guys have in this RP- I'd absolutely love to get involved if it's possible! I think you need another cool cat around here, so here's a lion I made earlier :)

It's a little TBC in places so forgive me for that- it's my first properly created char in about a year and a half!

Zoe shrugged, realizing Val didn't mean that ramp. Oh, that was the other one, earlier on the freeway. It went down onto the beach, not off the bridge. It was a classic Zoe moment. Tell your partner in crime what the hell is going on before it actually happens...she couldn't help but giggle almost a little manically at just how she'd fucked it. Maybe it was the Cali heat getting to her, or something else.
"Uhh....yeah, take the one BEFORE the bridge, Val...don't go too fast into that one!" She added into the comms, the R1 opened up and roaring as she dived into a corner, the bike at maximum tilt as her left knee scraped tarmac. All well and good, but on a bumpy, busy public road, it felt like just the insanity the Swiss girl needed.

The bridge was coming up into the distance, as Zoe actually had taken the last corner a little slower, watching on her side as she saw Val at full tilt go by, a shit-eating grin no doubt through the visor that she'd overtaken. And the fact that well, the plan had changed a little...

Riding straight past, she popped a wheelie as she was back on the throttle out of the slow corner, the ramp on the bridge not going onto the beach. Val would hit her ramp at a little less speed, but wouldn't get her, or the bike smashed to bits. Zoe's choice though, that was something else. And this wasn't a race in the traditional sense. It was just toomfoolery. End of the line, after leaving police, other street racers, basically anyone for dead. Watching Val go off, she carried on, the bridge coming into sight as she dived into the opposite lane, cars visible on the horizon. Yet even before that, Zoe could only cackle as she slightly pushed left, the bike heading straight towards the second ramp and without any intervention, into the ocean.

The bike took flight, Zoe wooping as she was temporarily breathless, then weightless. The bike was about to hit the top of the parabolica as Zoe let go of the handlebars and had stood up on the footpegs, realizing she was barely a couple of seconds away from going splat. With almost an automatic reaction, Zoe had already pitched and lept off backwards. The bike continued beneath her, slamming into the cauldron-like ocean with a loud thump, as Zoe felt nothing. And nothing. The sea beneath her grew closer, and was certainly death if she was going to go into it without anything, or at least serious injury. For a good second, any other spectator would have thought that too, as the pilot chute snapped the rest of the BASE canopy out of the container and barely hit the stop button on that before Zoe hit the water. Screaming with joy, she knew Val would no doubt hear her, if she couldn't see the pink and blue canopy be open and be the brakes before Zoe went splat into the water. And then it came.

Dropping into the water, Zoe pulled her helmet off as she looseened her gear off, fighting a little to deal with it as she got the container and BASE system off. Keeping the container close, she felt the waves push, dumping her underwater momentarily as it brought her into shore, still totally in awe. The amount of adrenaline in her system was just overwhelming, she couldn't even begin to recall how insane that was. It was lucky that she'd been filming that...because if that wasn't something to blow up on the internet, she didn't know what would be. She felt the waves kick up a little more, hurling her into the surf and onto the beach, Zoe still in her blue and pink leathers that were completely soaked through. Her helmet was in her right hand with a bunch of GoPros, and a bike nowhere to be seen. As far as most people could tell, that was just insanely stupid, dangerous and reckless. But where some people drew their lines, Zoe wanted to see how far the rabbit hole could go and defy them. Coming to her feet, she could barely carry the water-soaked canopy, seeing Val further down the beach, also somehow alive. She raised her hand, giving a rock-on symbol, words almost not required as she walked down to go and see her partner in crime.


Seb chuckled, resting his head back as he listened to her, just taking it in. He was half right, he thought to himself- something just hadn't been on with Ellie of late, but he couldn't pin it. Looking to the sky with her, back at the mountains in the distance and their exit point, then back at Ellie's form by his side.
"I get you. I mean...we have it good right now. We've got a bit of money put aside for us." He said, just thinking to himself.
"I guess we kept pushing so we could have it all. And here we are. Feels like we do. You got us into the big leagues, Ellie. I'm with you on whatever comes next. I want this, you know...but I could use some time out of the spotlight too." Seb added, smiling as he kept close to her, knowing that after all they'd been through, he knew where he stood.


Zoe could only respond in a characteristic, textbook manner.
"Well, fuck you then!" She cackled, seeing Val in her incredibly shaky and wobbly mirrors.

Diving between a pair of cars, the traffic got more busy as she gently braked, off the throttle and already diving between two cars, wheeling as she did, absolutely no fucks given. It wasn't professional, this was hoon. Living life on an edge, an edge that felt like it was the Swiss girl's charm, whooping as she pulled the wheelie through fucking traffic no less. Val was going to no doubt be equally pissed, and or thinking the same as Zoe almost span up the rear wheel putting it down, roaring out of traffic and into a tunnel. Santa Monica was ahead, she reminded herself- just only where a few hours ago she'd topped up on her tan.

While it went down to a thinner set of lanes here, heading north-west down Route 1 out of Santa Monica, Zoe wasn't letting up the pace. Keeping towards the outer part of the lane, she went past cars with ease, a gentle push that was barely noticable pushing her into the middle and past a car pulling out slowly, the blur of her blue Yamaha jostling with the Honda, with utter disregard. The sun may have been going down over the Pacific, but the fun was only beginning. No rider would go this fast, or even think this was sane. Zoe liked to think otherwise. She did on a lot. Her lifestyle, her way of doing things was about life. And she very well planned to live.

The roads were getting tighter, as Zoe slowed up, leaning hard, knee down through a tight bend....a bend that you wouldn't have to lean for unless you were going about 140, almost like a full on Isle of Man TT rider. Zoe was fully aware of just how dead she'd be if a car pulled out, or something else went wrong. But that thought almost didn't enter her, like her fear gene was removed, like she was just so in the moment that she could not be elsewhere. No, right now, she was here and now, doing exactly what she was doing. And coming out of the bend, she was back on the throttle, still aware of the lead she had on Val....for now at least. Seeing the mile marker, she leaned into the next sweeping set of bends, pushing the bike hard and to the edge of it's limits.

"It's coming up in a mile, keep an eye on the left side of the road....there's a trailer ramp pointing towards the ocean and the beach. You'll have to hit it at least at 100 to get enough height....just dump as soon as you're away from the bike and brace'll have a couple seconds, tops! This is going to be utterly ridiculous.....people are gonna shit themselves when they see this!" Zoe said, giggling, almost as if she was totally intoxicated by the whole thing.

"Let's do this shit.....wooo!" She yelled into the comms, the high pitched Swiss voice squeaking all the way through as she focused ahead, not 100% as before but just readying herself mentally for the insanity that was to come. Hitting a ramp on a fairly low bridge, going into the air, and deploying instantly, with barely seconds to impact. She had left a GoPro in the sand, and if nobody had tampered with it, she had no doubt it was going to blow some minds.....


Seb cut the footage from his end, exhaling as he took his helmet off and unzipped the legs of his suit entirely, looking to Ellie. Dragging his canopy over his shoulder, he walked over, seeing she was a little more out of breath, a little more tired than usual. It wasn't right. Perhaps she was just burnt out, the adrenaline or something else had taken a hold. Maybe he'd not noticed it recently, more than most. Or something else had hit. He couldn't tell, but she seemed a bit less than herself, bounding around endlessly after something like that. On top of the world still, but not as high as usual.

Walking towards the shade of the large pine trees, Seb sat down with her, taking in the view of the mountains they had flown down for a good minute and a half, and everything else. The film crew had noticed they'd pulled back, gotten what they wanted, and backed away. For a few minutes, at least. Words didn't really need to be said, as Seb unzipped the front of his suit, still carrying his gear just like Ellie but at least partially getting out of the sweatbox that was the wingsuit.
"That was good." Seb said, his chilled Austrian accent coming through as he leaned back against the tree, the canopy in front and wrapped in his right arm.
"Tired out? I mean, that was one hell of a trip up there. The footage out of that will be good. They seemed very impressed." He added simply, turning to her, noticing that the look wasn't going away, the two looking eye to eye, Seb only wryly smiling, still buzzing off what had happened.
"I still don't get why you picked white. It's all gonna be stained now." He giggled, teasing her a little as he leaned in for a hug, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, sighing. He could really spend all day here, just coming down from all this mentally, looking back on this all. Beneath it however, he knew Ellie was a little different. Perhaps she just had a harder landing than usual, or just was burnt out from the hike. Or something else was on her mind. Either way, Seb was there for her, close and listening as ever.
The M3's straight six whined, as the speedo climbed and climbed, Kimberly's Skyline more and more distant by the second. Still, there were moments where he could keep it pinned on the slight kinks in the road where Kimberly wasn't, even as slight as it was, it was enough for him to keep foot to floor. The car felt like it was going at a rate of knots, though of course he had to always admit that Kimberly had straight line speed covered. When they got to the twisties, he'd give her a run for her money....and that was all blown away when the first bike went past. Then the second. Ross wasn't entirely shocked- he'd seen shit like this on the Autobahn before, but not like that. Zoe Pascal Mercier had left him for dust, and well, that blue blur was going to get further and further.

The teeny Swiss girl looked in her mirror, the sight of the M3 and the Skyline no match for pure Japanese power, and closing her distance to her Columbian counterpart's Honda CBR1000R. The Yamaha R1 she was on was screaming, the modified Akrapovic exaust louder than it legally should have been but when you're going about 150 and past 160, that begins to barely matter. At that speed, Zoe's world through the visor of the blue tinted white Arai helmet was a blur, reactions needing to be pretty much instantanious if someone decided to pull out. But in the fast lane, even the Skyline and BMW weren't keeping up. The acceleration of the bike itself left them for dead, and whilst on the corners it may not have been as glued down, it certainly paced out of each faster than a car could. For far cheaper, too.

Winding through a stack of cars, the neon pink and blue Alpinestars full race suit-wearing Swiss was gripping the bike tight. On her back, beyond the neck brace and her leather gear was a little magic backpack for later, a barely felt weight for her now at this point. But it was a need she'd have later, dropping a gear as the bike actually pulled back and wheelied, as she roared past Val, her gaze turned for a moment as she could only giggle in devlish delight. Zoe was not a MotoGP rider, but her experience of hooning bikes through the German autobahns and Swiss mountanis, evading fines, cops and helicopters meant that while she was young, she had serious cred on how to do dumb shit well. Oooor, at least she thought that. Which made it okay. The bike coming back down as she nipped the throttle only slightly, she swerved around a car, almost a full tilt leaning given the speeds they were at, something the cars could get to but not sustain. Not like this.

Going nearly 170 down a highway was just ludicrous, and if a cop saw them, they'd barely be able to get the plate let alone a description. Two very blurry things. And that was just how the Swiss girl liked it, as she carried on. The Scarla headset picked up a little static as she had wheelied, so she put her head back down behind the screen more, knowing Val would be able to talk.
"It's getting more empty, Val!" Zoe called into the comms, chuckling as she picked a tight gap between two cars, storming through, shaking her head. This was just getting ludicrous now, as she saw the road tighten up ahead, dropping a lane.
"We've got to keep heading to the Pacific Highway, I've got something spicy lined up....just keep an ear out, okay?" She added, back on the revs as the R1's 4-cylinder engine roared, the noise of backfire intermittent as she ramped up through the gears, cackling like a thundercloud as Zoe could muster a shit-eating grin. Even despite being so petite and completely out of proportion to the bike almost, she looked at home living life in the even faster lane than even the street racers she'd long left in her Metzeler's tyre dust. Tonight was going to be very, very fun.


Seb was right behind her throughout the dive down, able through his almost telepathic partnership with her now to just get close, barely within a meter of her foot and get incredibly close. He had to say, Ellie wasn't exactly running out of pictures to use in social media of her, not when he was able to read her every move so easily when they flew together, her unique suit sticking out from anything else that was out there. It was what made them so good- that bond and trust made them so talented not just as individuals, but as a partnership, a couple. Sticking close by, the shelf below was beginning to thin out as Seb saw her look over, the two coming alongside each other. With a total grin on his face, Seb dived down a little more, fully aware that they were coming in closer and closer to over the LZ. With a wingsuit, a subtle dive down, using all that excess speed and a slight movement of the head was enough to just bring the suit level, and into a flare, Seb actually flipping onto his back part-way through as he pushed down hard in his arms and legs, catching Ellie do the same flare. Watching her deploy, he felt himself hit the awkward top of the parabolica, flipping the large suit over and throwing his pilot chute as he did, the canopy flinging out as he did.

With a characteristic whoop, he took in the sights of Lake Tahoe below and the surrounding mountains, unzipping everything and popping his goggles off. Grabbing his toggles, he buried them into brakes, already swooping back around the side of Ellie, following right in her wake. Seb knew she was definitely going to enjoy being in frame, she had come bounds in her confidence and her ability to enjoy it, the golden parachute's skin a weird shimmer in the bright blue skies over California. He kept close behind, watching her take the route down into the small opening between the trees as he watched her come into land, before barely landing meters away himself. Whooping with joy, he couldn't help himself as he let the canopy still stay up, running over towards her with his hand up for a high-five. Cameras or not, a project or not, this was still what he loved most.


Ryan could only shrug, looking on at the car, then back at Gina.
"Camshaft is completely fucked, looks like it gave up and it's ruined the engine block. Fucking expensive that is. Ah well...." Ryan said, shrugging, already mostly past it and just keeping his spirits focused on the data that had been extracted. He was caning it around the circuit, setting at least one good lap in the process and extracting everything. He didn't feel good that the car had already gone to shit, but chances were, it was going to be a one-off. These things happened in motorsport- one slight defect and that was it, precision engineering just couldn't handle intolerances. This was one of those- and why they went through testing, after all. Better it happen now than in a long distance endurance race. Heading into the pits with Gina, he looked back over his shoulder, a smirk on his face.

"You did seriously good though. Lucas was just saying, he's glad you got some mileage into the car. He's just on the phone to the Honda, no doubt they're going to want to figure out what their block just did." Ryan said, shrugging towards the end as he pulled up a plastic chair, sitting down as he pulled a Rockstar out of the fridge nearby, shaking his head.
"VTEC kicked in, yo!" He sarcastically commented, just a little more relaxed about this than he probably should have been, but aware there was very little he could do right now. Gina probably thought that was going to be odd, but then again, she wasn't the one helpless to an engine failure. In his eyes, at least.



Ross chuckled, greeting Sarah and hugging so much it almost hurt his ribs, glad to see her again. It felt strange, not being as connected to his family back of home, to be here and enjoying it with Kimberly's. It gave him some sense of hope, and the last few years, looking after Mia and Monica, as well as being right there for Kimberly gave him some sense of direction. It had been good, but of course, driving fast was still on his mind. Always.

Ross listened in, hearing the conversation about Kimberly's crash. He sometimes had flashbacks to it, to that crash. He had cold sweats and woke up in the night. It seemed odd that killing people in cold blood had been easier to accept than seeing what had happened to Kimberly replay in his head, and then what he did himself at the wheel. There was no denying it had been hard to talk about it, and he didn't bring it up. Instead, he focused his energy on the bettering the lives of the people he loved, rather than just being so selfish, so naive to think it would all just work with all the risks they had taken once.

But going out for a quick blast? Well...he couldn't turn that down.
"We'll watch out, Sarah. Thanks you for this. We'll try and be back before their bed-time!" Ross added, chuckling as he grabbed a grey hoodie, flinging it on alongside a black beanie, covering his receding short hair. The Scotsman was getting even more bald, he couldn't hide that as easily as he once could.

Walking over past the table, he grabbed the keys to his updated toy, something newer since the last bout of insanity he'd been driving around LA. The RX7 had been sold on, it was too insane even by Ross's own standards, it just didn't fit him. It was too hardcore, too attuned, and so he had gone back to something actually a little more up his street. Something a little more vintage, a project car but more down his streets for being able to really enjoy pure, Deutchland-driven performance.

It sure as hell beat driving the family car, with the kids in the back, the BMW keys in his hands as he headed to the garage following Kimberly. Opening the door for his side of the opening, the 2002 M3 E46 CSL sat there, one of 1,500 worldwide. It was hard to find, and needed a total rework, as it had actually been a former insurance Cat D write-off. But it was left hand drive, and in a sapphire black, fresh from factory. Original seats, original everything. Some light mods, such as an overhaul of the 3.2L in-line six cylinder engine meant that thins thing now chucked out 400bhp, and at an instant with a NOS tank behind the handbrake would chuck out a lot more on demand. Not that it was really needed given how fun this thing was with this amount of power, but it was there alright. Oh, and removing the pesky limiter. This was not as fast as Kimberly's Skyline, that was a machine to rule all others on the mean streets. This was a machine that was the ultimate M3, the best E46, bar the V8-powered monster that was the unicorn-rare M3 GTR. And to a trained eye, an eclectic taste.

With nice alloys, smooth leather and something of a feeling that this was his machine from every nut and bolt he'd put back together, and making it go fast was always a pleasure. Rear-wheel drive, old-school anarchy that his driving skill thrived on.

Opening the door, he clambered in, sighing as he reclined in the seat, turning the ignition, sparking the upgraded coils. The car had been tinkered exactly how he wanted it to be, and everything that could be easily upgraded had been, bar a few things that needed no work. The Bavarian engine roared into life, as he wound the electric window down, looking out at Kimberly, her Skyline roaring.
"Come on then, show me what she's got!" Ross replied to Kimberly with a wry smirk, revving the six cylinder of his M3, the doors fully opened as he let her take the lead.



Into the void they went, as Seb let her lead, pushing off gently and keeping everything open, head pointed as for a brief second, nothing happened. The suit began to suddenly take form, take pressure as the sight of the cliffs below begun to become a faster blur. The Austrian focused right on Ellie, keeping out of her burble, or the area of dirty air that she'd be creating behind her suit, the wake in a nutshell. In the snowy and rocky backdrop of the mountains, it was a sight to behold as the white and gold of Ellie's suit, and Seb's black and blue roared like fighter-jets turned down in volume from the sheer speed they weer flying at along the terrain, coming close then far, then close again.

The line was long and required a lot of concentration, but there was no doubt in that moment of time, total focus was something the two of them could really pull off. Coming in closer, Seb approached the left, and flew right above, capturing a hell of a shot of Ellie, before flying right along Ellie's right, following her through a turn at a butte-face. The lake in the distance shimmered, as Seb dropped back a little, taking a cinematic angle of the shot. It was hard as hell to film, and he'd learned a lot about using cameras in the past few years- depth of field, aperture and so on, so getting this right before they even left the ground was something he wasn't going to mess up. That and the other cameras, always providing another perspective, another view. But in this moment, there was nothing but pure focus. Joy was subdued by the sheer concentration, but this was how life for the two of them went. It was living at the very extremes. And right here, Seb couldn't be anywhere else but following his partner tight into a deep rock crevasse, the altitude burning as they flew through the mountainside, down towards the lake below.

Anyone else would have thought it was surreal, but against the realms of sanity, Seb and Ellie were flying, or at least falling a lot less slowly through the backdrop of a mountainside, and paid or not, he wanted to be nowhere else.



Ryan chuckled, shaking his head.
"Riight. It'll just be me treating it like that then." He added, shaking his head as he took his helmet, the noise of cars roaring past the paddock audible as he sighed, looking in.
"Just get me set, Lucas."

And like that, he was out.

Going through turn 1 was terrifying but the aero package was awesome, the car just stuck unlike the R8. Despite not having as much power, it felt so responsive and refined through the bends, it felt good to drive and well, this was going to be a hotlap. Taking Turn 2 neatly, he had a clear route through, no traffic ahead and was going to cane it. The switchback at Turn 4, following the Sports Car layout rather than the NASCAR route made it more interesting for the cars to really cane it on corners rather than speed, the high speed bends terrifying compared to the low-speeds that some courses these days presented. Sonoma was raw, harsh and undulating in the terrain, as he roared out of Turn 6, onto the part-drag strip section. A hard section at 7, and back into the complex section through Turns 8 to 10 kept the car on its toes, dancing from kerb to kerb. Down to Turn 11 and the car was feeling dialled in, the rubber beginning to gel, everything coming good as he floored it through 12 and over the start-stop line, feeling like this was good....

"The car's fucking awe...." Ryan spoke, before being rudely interrupted.


It was a puncture wound and a half to hear the noise of what sounded like an engine deciding to shit itself, as the car almost instantly lost power, billowing black exhaust smoke and the gears janking entirely. Catastrophic engine failure was not good, and coasting over Turn 1, he put it into the gravel before the uphill climb. Coming to a stop, Ryan only swore, before sighing.
"Ryan, what's going on?" Lucas asked over the comms, as he shook his head.
"Car's fucked. I'm all good." Ryan was stark, just annoyed more than anything, annoyed how this had been going so well and yet here he was, at the mercy of bad luck. Hopefully the power unit wasn't going to stake like this, or this was going to be a long season.

Lucas was swearing in the garage as he ran out, heading to the pit wall. He could literally see the stricken NSX sitting in the gravel, dead and lifeless.

This was why they did pre-season after all. The car was dead, but it wasn't in a race at least. And Ryan's time up until then had been strongly competitive.

Ah well.


Somewhere in Zurich, Switzerland

Mark looked over his shoulder, entering the cafe as he set up his laptop. Looking around, he took out his own bottle of water, gently sipping away as he sighed, looking over his emails, contacts, everything. He'd left no trace, nothing in fact. The Crime Syndicate was getting investigated harder, but leads were harder to follow. The evidence case built up, and for every head that they found, another two sprouted up.

And at times, he had done his part. Being this deep undercover for years, almost half a decade now felt insane. He felt like he was losing touch, becoming more criminal than cop. After all, it all started because of his criminality and his mindset, but now here it was, coming full circle. Calculating, calm, ready. He had a few things to sort, and a meeting to attend. They were narrowing in on a few more people, but he couldn't do this one alone. And an old acquaintance came to mind. Someone who would be able to be the other rock that could hit the other bird that needed to be struck off the list. It had to be simultaneous, and well, Mark was always one for a plan. He knew Athena still had her position in the NYPD, and well, could actually do something. Nobody else at this point was anyone that Mark trusted. Athena was clean, because she had no idea of any of it all. Even Mark knew his higher ups, anyone could be corrupt, filthy as pigshit and only keeping him there to keep the het. Hence why being an undercover Interpol cop in an organisation filled to the teeth with raging psychopaths was something that well, required a cool head and a distinct lack of fucks. As well as total suspicion of pretty much anyone.

Meaning Athena was perhaps in this situation, all he could count on for this particular scumbag. One very big hydra head, who had stopped looking over his shoulders.

Taking his phone, he looked over his shoulder, before looking back at the messenger screen. He flicked through, finding the old number of the person he really hoped he'd never have to contact. Somehow, he hated the fact he was doing this, but it was needed to do.

There's two senior detectives in the NYPD that have strong links to a Moldovan individual named Vladimir Sobotka.

He's on every Interpol list as a high priority target, with several European arrest warrants.

He is one of the key members in a drugs distribution network linked to a global syndicate.

He's a nasty piece of shit who authorized several "disappearances" in Moldova and Romania of police officers investigating drugs-related crime, alongside heading up a significant portion of the syndicate's finances.

And he's going to meet them tomorrow, at Hunter's Point, at 2000 hours sharp.

GPS Co-ordinates are here:

Nobody will do a thing, and he'll walk out of America with the best police force in the States under his thumb after the meeting.

Protection at the meeting is light, four Glocks.

So act how you will.

Do not reply to this message.

Don't ask where this comes from.

Trust me.


The phone's encryption was strong, and no doubt that Athena was going to be shocked. But somehow, he knew she'd know exactly who sent it. Be unable to place it accurately, but would do the thing he had in mind. After all, how do you touch those who can't be found? When you're a ghost, you stop looking over your shoulder...Mark intended to give them a subtle reminder that they very much could.
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