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2 mos ago
I tried balancing my likes, thanks and laughs- they called me a madman.
6 mos ago
We should set the clocks back a half hour then never touch them again.
6 mos ago
We dumped your tea and kept our guns.
6 mos ago
It's quality over quantity. A good writer can say a lot with a few words.
7 mos ago
Don't give up on your dreams, keep sleeping.


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Joel Nicolosi

Joel glanced down at his watch. They had a few hours until he’d have to be back. The first stage was an evening to night run out of town towards the mountains. They’d already done a shakedown test in the morning and carefully made the pacenotes for the section. Everything went fairly well with no real surprises and the car was in good form. The roads were just as beaten and winding as the mountain passes around Sol City, perhaps even more so; while the dusty terrain was noticeably faster than the tough, rocky grit of the Pacific Northwest putting more work on the brakes and requiring a little more finesse at the controls to find grip. They’d drawn a good number in the lottery so the car wouldn’t have to lead off nor would it have to deal with a degraded route from the other competitors. All of it washed together in his mind as he glanced out from their posh balcony suite. Sio was right, he wanted to win. International press and nationalism aside, he was only concerned with how fast he could drive and if it would be enough- Nothing else mattered.

Sio’s scantily clad approach caused an eyebrow to raise slightly from the side of his vision. “You're a real distraction,” He said with feigned seriousness accepting the small bottle. “I should have left you back in Sol.” He said as he rubbed the sunscreen into her skin pinching the top of her shoulders and pushing his thumbs into her back gently as he did. Her fair skin and blazing red hair stood out starkly in the Caribbean, which he liked. So far, she was different, though he knew the pitfalls of the expression. It was not often that he concentrated on anything other than how to plant four tires across a corner, but she had never tried to make it about anything else. She’d become an addition rather than a distraction. He let his hands fall down around her hips and glanced out briefly towards the clear-blue ocean leaning over her shoulder. The beach did sound like a good idea for a while. It was a private and closely guarded property where prying eyes wouldn't be allowed to follow them. Still, he had a nagging bit of intuition and knew it wouldn’t go unnoticed by her strong sense of perception. “I keep getting the feeling like we’re being watched,” He said more as a point of curiosity rather than concern. “I’m not talkin’ about the cameras and what not, I don’t really mean stalker-level either, but you know what I mean.”

I'll be posting again at least once for Joel, but planning to ckose up shop with a Milo/Paige post. Anyone that wants to get in an epilogue post should get it in sooner rather than later.
Coleman St. John

The Harley’s engine ticked over slowly as Kaylee got off. Cole remained seated looking over the carnage outside of the club listening to the uneven swing and pop of the exhaust as she proceeded to lay into Elijah. There was no hiding it any longer. Everything she did was always with purpose and intent. She placed her hand firmly on his back as she got off for a reason. He knew she could feel his thoughts. His skin felt like it was practically smoldering under his jacket as they turned in at Avalon. Elijah looked at him curiously from over Kaylee’s shoulder, though quickly turned his head as a car approached. Cole wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation, but the answer was already in his mind. Nocturne.

“I’m going to get Una.” He said coldly looking back at Kaylee as she attempted to gather up the rabble of students that came out of the club. A lap of flame snapped around the rear tire and dissipated in a cloud of white smoke that flowed from the squealing protest of painful contact across asphalt. He was gone in the howling rpm break of a single gear change leaving only the sound of unburned fuel detonating against hot steel echoing through the street.

The air was dark ahead. Street lamps flickered and died as he approached picking up more speed with each millisecond, much faster than he had driven with Kaylee onboard. The time wasn’t far off. He could only hold it back temporarily until the rage was so undeniable and absolute that it broke over him like a meteor strike. A justice so perfected and final that it was elemental in its purpose, ancient and beyond mortal persuasion or delay. Red and white light danced and blurred together around him as he burst through a patch of heavy traffic around an intersection. A car horn blasted a warning, quickly followed by a siren, but the sound strained to catch up with him. He could feel his heart beating painfully inside his chest, convulsing in rhythm with the unearthly symphony of thunder that was poured out into the night.

Nocturne was not far away. He had never been there, but like always he knew where he was going. Flames sparked and curled hatefully around the front tire as a mach cone blinked in screaming red and orange around him exploding through his senses. As the flames came up amidst the deafening chorus of wind and machine so did the same visions that he saw each time, less than fraction of second for each: A woman’s face, sawgrass swaying in the breeze, a city by the water, children playing, the sound of their laughter, a baby crying. Every time he saw them it was the worst, most hollow feeling he could imagine, multiplied a thousand times, like his soul was emptied out and burned into the aether. His grip twisted and pulled against the handlebars unnaturally as a terrible call went out across myriads of realities, seen and unseen, known and unknown.


The lights at Nocturne began to buzz and flicker slightly in the midst of Lex and Ayel’s conversation followed closely by a static hum over the dormant sound system. A feedback spike sounded and static cracked into the ears of the two men until a song started over the speakers and quickly skipped into another, then another before finally settling on one more that droned out slowly with broken reception as if it were tuned to a station barely within range. The song continued on, broken, but steady until the characteristic sound of a Harley Davidson could be heard approaching.

Joel Nicolosi

Friday- Kingston, Jamaica

Alright everyone, let’s get started, shall we?

The crisp English host’s voice said over the speaker to the assembled gathering of press and VIPs. Camera flashes continued to quietly flutter in the background as casual conversations died down while the invited guests and organizers took their seats. The staff of the Aurora hotel very quietly continued to serve as the press conference was beginning smoothly balancing glimmering silver trays of hors d’oeuvres on fingertips and matching pots of the best coffee Joel had ever had in his entire life. The hotel was showing off, putting its reputation as the finest in Jamaica on display for their wealthy foreign visitors. Watching from the small group of drivers selected for the interview, Joel eyed the coffee being poured for what looked like a very pleased representative from the FIA. He’d consumed roughly eight cups and really had hankering for a ninth, but the team’s press manager, an Italian in her mid-fifties named Stefania, had very firmly cut him off to ensure his smile was as bright as possible for the broadcast that would be relayed and repeated all over the world. Sitting next to Sio in the front row, she gave Joel a very motherly shake of her finger to which he smirked slyly and gave Sio a wink as the conference started.

Ok everyone, it’s the 2019 FIA World Rally Series presented by… The young man went on to read a brief list of official sponsors ranging from high-end watchmakers to technology companies and tire manufacturers.

The drivers seated in two rows of three represented various countries from across the world, each wearing their teams respective colors and a small microphone that wrapped around the ear. Joel was no exception, wearing a dark blue blue polo with a subtle silver camo pattern along the torso that the team was debuting on the car along with its standard red and characteristic orange letter R prominent among the other sponsors listed along the sleeves. Stefania allowed him to wear one of his custom made apex hats that sported the Rebellion logo on one side and his chosen number, #12, on the other.

This is the first round of the 2019 season, Rally Jamaica… The man continued. First round, first question, Joel, Rebellion Racing, VW Group.

He’d never had any coaching or ever spent a lot of time with the media, nor was he very outgoing at all, but Joel knew he had an instinctual, natural presence in front of a camera. He looked back at the man, keeping a slight grin and ignoring the lense that was broadcasting his image all over the world as the question was read aloud:

Joel, how does it feel to be the first American to compete on the world rally stage in more than two decades? Your background is in GT racing, what drew you to rally?

“I wouldn’t say I was drawn to it,” Joel answered with a light shrug relaxing his posture some. “More like it found me, ya know? After the grand prix, I had a lot of options, this just seemed like it would be the most fun really, I never thought it would go this far.” He continued. “As far as being the first American…” He looked away slightly thinking about his next words. “I guess I try not to think about that too much.” It was a total lie, though he said it naturally without the slightest hint of conflict. His eyes drifted by Sio momentarily as they returned to the host, knowing she knew he was lying. He wanted to win and he wanted to be the first person to win a WRS event and the Sol City Grand Prix. He wasn’t a patriotic type, but as a driver on the world stage the sentiment was always present and he remembered how people cheered when he carried the flag on his victory lap around the Sol City street cicuit. It was a feeling like nothing else. “I just try to drive as fast as I can... I think being able to represent your country is a point of pride for any driver.”

Any plans to continue GT racing in the near future?

Joel shrugged again, “I try to keep my options open I guess,” He replied still keeping a natural smile and also displaying some prior contemplation. He knew better than to talk of the specifics about his contract on a live broadcast. Sio had combed through it like a lawyer and there were more than a few clauses that forbade him from being involved with competitive manufacturers, even if they were in other forms of racing. “Right now I’m just focused on rally... it was only a few months ago I was still fixing cars in my shop, so whatever I manage to get into at this point is just bonus.”

What have you learned most about rally so far?

At this point he was hoping the host would move on to someone else, but everyone had wanted to talk to him since they landed. His presence as an American in the WRS was something of a novelty in itself and everyone had seen the grand battle that resulted in his win at Sol City. Having an American driver was good for the WRS brand and the FIA giving them a line into an untapped market in the United States. Joel was aware of their business goals and decided he would have some fun with them as well: “Well, I had always heard that Finns drink,” He said nodding towards one of his fellow drivers from Finland who was holding his head up with one hand. The crowd, of whom many were in attendance, recalled the previous night’s “festivities” as all the teams and drivers officially arrived in Kingston. Laughter began to fill the room. “I mean, Aimo did not carry his flag well.” He said with a chuckle.

The young Finn, also in his rookie season with the WRS driving for Citroen glanced back at Joel with a sheepish grin. The party, relatively unplanned, had gotten out of hand rather quickly, leaving a path of destruction across the finely manicured gardens of the Aurora. None of them had ever seen a man put away alcohol in the way of their newest American competitor.





Yes ladies and gents this is it, we've made it all the way through Chapter Two for Sol City marking our SECOND CONSECUTIVE completed RP in this genre. With the aftermath of the Club explosion and downtown drama, the last time skip will encompass whatever you see your characters doing inside of the next week so keep that in mind for your posting and be clear what time you're in. We don't want to end with any spatial disruptions.

So the city is yours. There are no events this week. Everything is winding down from the finale. Life goes on in Sol for another Chapter.





Yes ladies and gents this is it, we've made it all the way through Chapter Two for Sol City marking our SECOND CONSECUTIVE completed RP in this genre. With the aftermath of the Club explosion and downtown drama, the last time skip will encompass whatever you see your characters doing inside of the next week so keep that in mind for your posting and be clear what time you're in. We don't want to end with any spatial disruptions.

So the city is yours. There are no events this week. Everything is winding down from the finale. Life goes on in Sol for another Chapter.

Paige Kennedy & Milo Ventri

The next thing she knew was Milo’s shirt covering her face and crashing hard back down to the floor. The wind was nearly knocked out of her, but the deafening shock that followed nearly stopped her heart. Reverberating through the floor and followed by a perfect lack of sound. Her ears rang painfully and it felt like time passed while she stood still, separated from it like a passenger in her own body. The definite feeling of weight on top of her was the first thing she could even process. Arms were holding on to her. Did I just die?. She thought. A memory crashed back into her conscious like a train derailment. A grenade, then Milo. Her head was swimming. No. Blurred images swirled across her eyes. God… No, this isn’t right… Milo! It felt like her arms were moving again, but she couldn’t see them. She coughed and a strong chemical scent filled her senses. Images bending in the lense of her eye were a hazy static and then were suddenly exploded back together and she was thrust fully back into reality.

Paige!” Milo’s voice shouted in her face. “PAIGE! Goddamnit!” His grip firmly shook her shoulders. The room was full of smoke and her ears continued to ring. Still disoriented, she touched his face for a moment seeing his expression towards her lighten. However as the ringing subsided and her equilibrium returned another unmistakable sound became all to present: a jet engine.

“Oh Shit…” She said looking back towards Milo. Her eyes then darted past him at Sammy, slumped over and unmoving.

He’s gone.” Milo said grimly looking back over his shoulder. “We gotta go.” The sound of the engines became more focused and moving.

From the corner of her eye, Paige could see blood spatter along the small hallway as they bolted through the corridor where one of Milo’s rounds had apparently connected with their attacker. The hangar beyond was dark with only a sliver of light from a partially open doorway on the far end. The contrast of light from the office made the whole area nearly pitch-black. Even being as cautious as she could in her haste, she bounced off something solid and tripped over something else on the floor nearly toppling over her own feet before catching herself against a pane of glass on what felt like a small airplane. Milo cursed behind her tripping over the same obstacle and kicking it with force sending it clamoring through the darkness. Her eyes strained to refocus themselves for the absence of light, concentrating on the small glimmer of outside air that peeked through the gap. She steadied herself on a wing strut trying to regain her balance again. Her side ached from the impact. The engine sound was farther away and she knew they’d soon be making their turn into the takeoff roll. She moved again, gaining only a few quick strides before another object caught her knee. She yelped in pain, but Milo grabbed her up, nearly like a football plowing his way ahead until the door was within arm’s reach.

They burst through, thankful for soft grass and dirt, the outside light showered back into focus with tall pines, broken clouds and in the distance, Paige could see the wings and tail surfaces twitch in the pilot’s final checks at the far end of the field. There was nothing they could do as the engines throttled up, but stand and watch as the nose rotated for the sky and the gear folded up sleekly beneath the polished airframe.
Just a casual warning that we are soon going to be sliding into the epilogue for this chapter of Sol City. There will be an official announcement to come. Normally we allow a period of one week following the finale for players to pick a day and wrap up their stories for the chapter- more on the way soon.

Paige Kennedy & Milo Ventri

There were a few different routes they went over depending on what they found when they reached the island and Paige set off directly for what used to be a civil aviation office. The windows were dark and she approached cautiously with Milo directly behind. The island was still quiet and she could faintly hear the sound of voices on the other side of the building. She leaned against the old cinder block and eased her grip around the door knob. Wind gently buffeted against the structure, chilling her body that was still only covered by her gym clothes from Luna. The island out on the ocean was damn cold. She suppressed a hard chill through her body and exhaled briefly gathering her thoughts. Glancing down at the earth, the swaying pines that bordered the airfield and a few breaks of blue sky through the passing clouds, she brought her pistol up and gently pushed the door away.

The room was dark, but immediately she could sense the presence of another person. There was no ambush set and instinctively she reached for a light switch as she peered around the corner behind her gunsights. The light came on revealing an empty office. Age-stained white walls with loose paper and trash was scattered around the perimeter. In center, strapped to a chair was the beaten figure of Sammy Giancana, slumped over with only his restraints holding him in place. Blood stained his exquisitely tailored white dress-shirt and slacks and spattered the floor around him, still dripping from his forehead. Barely audible, his breathing was a quiet battle for each remaining breath that he could muster.

“Shit…” Paige muttered and glanced back momentarily at Milo who stood watching like a sentinel. There were no windows facing them, only a small partition covering a doorway. He assumed the corridor led to a repair bay or a hangar of some kind, but it was the only way someone could come at them head on. He stepped to the side shifting his glance between Paige and a better angle to keep a lookout behind them.

Is he alive?” Milo asked.

Paige felt for a pulse. Her touch seem to startle what nerves still functioned in his broken face. Like Nikki, Sammy also kept his head cleanly shaven, but so pulverized was his visage, that Paige visibly winced at the sight of him. He looked as if he’d been hit by a train: Eyes were nearly swollen shut as he strained to lift his head and look at her through the sting of blood and sweat. His head bobbed involuntarily as though it wasn’t fully attached to the rest of his body, but still he beheld her carefully, completely focused with the faint life that still existed in his consciousness. Studying her fallen blonde lockes and small frame, he managed the tiniest of smiles and his voice exited in a whisper:


Paige pulled away at the sound of his wife’s name wiping his blood on her shorts and stepping back. Milo cut his glance at her strangely, never seeing her appear so spooked. “What did he say?

As soon as the words exited his lips the sound of a small turbine could be heard spooling up outside. He’d spent enough time around machinery, aircraft included, to know the characteristic high-pitched whine of the small engine used to begin the startup procedures. He stowed the inquiry away and knew whatever it was that bothered Paige would have wait. “We need to get moving.

Paige looked at Sammy and knew she would have to make a choice. He would be worth an untold fortune of information if they could keep him alive long enough to get back to Sol and in a hospital. If he would talk, they would have more than what they needed to take Nikki down without any red tape or bureaucracy. With Sammy under oath there would be direct connections and irrefutable evidence and she would have unquestioned support in bringing Nikki in, a slam-dunk. Or she could do what she and Milo planned to do: walk out on that tarmac and put an end to it without any witnesses. As she turned to Milo a figure burst through the far corridor who as she snapped her focus back, immediately recognized as the man from Luna Sports Facility. He leveled a large caliber revolver in her direction, similar to the ones that Milo fashioned and opened fire.

Falling away, Paige could hear the sonic rush of a bullet fly past her ear as the deep blast of the revolver echoed through the small room like cannonfire. He was aiming for the head. She cracked off two shots from the hip as she dove away, but his volley was suddenly silenced as Milo opened up spraying the corridor with fully automatic fire. The man ducked away with the piercing sound of Milo’s suppressed AK that quickly ventilated the old structure with small holes. The smell of cordite filled the room and short pause followed the exchange. Paige wasn’t sure if either one of them had connected. She knew she wasn’t hit and it appeared the man hadn’t even counted on Milo’s sudden barrage, but as she got back on her feet a different sound slowly eased through the room. The sound of something metallic rolling against the wood floor. Her eyes quickly found the object, close enough that she could see the small military logo on rotating along the side a olive drab cylinder: a grenade.
Paige Kennedy & Milo Ventri

A passing cloud layer broke beneath them and the island was fully in view along with the airfield. The surf-beaten Pacific rock and grey-green of weathered pines were plowed away decades ago for a single runway and a few hangars, same as Marlin said. A checker patterned water tower stood over the facility and the whole scene looked like an old photograph. Paige watched carefully. She could feel the beat of her heart pick up. The amphibious plane she followed on her phone sat on the the end of the runway in the distance parked next to a sleek white business jet and another helicopter. A few small aircraft were tied down along the hangar taxi-way. A small group of figures moved around between the two aircraft but didn’t seem to pay any mind to the Daedalus helicopter. The island was still a public field. Paige slid a magazine into her pistol and worked the action to put a round in the chamber glancing back briefly at Milo knowingly.

As they crossed over the airfield to the south, she saw him: Nikki, standing nonchalant. He didn’t even look up. His hands moved in conversation with a few a others gathered in front of the business jet. One of them was the same man she had chased from the Luna Sports Facility. She gritted her teeth at the sight of him immediately thinking back to how they’d tried to kill her; her bloodsoaked apartment downtown, how they’d gone after Milo and nearly done the same, the Club reduced to ashes, Elvin dead and no telling how many other people they had destroyed before they made their way to Sol City. A strong breeze from the north buffeted against the helicopter’s nose breaking her momentary contemplation, but Marlin swiftly countered and had the wheels daintily on the tarmac behind one of the civil aviation offices. Paige didn’t know much about flying, but it seemed like a pretty slick move and they were on the ground in no time as the rotor blades again picked up and beat away back over the ocean.

Finally removing the contents of his bag, Milo attached the stock and silencer on the ends of the base AK-47 build he’d set aside for weeks in his shop. The unmistakable curved magazine slid into the receiver with the precision of a finely crafted watch. He looked at Paige and there was nothing but quiet silence over the island as the echo of Marlin’s helicopter faded away. There wasn’t much to be said. It seemed like things were at least going in their favor for a change. She told him not to think about it, but the thoughts continued to creep around his mental blocks. What would happen if he had to shoot people? He wasn’t a soldier or a cop. Could she really ‘take care of it’ if he did? She seemed pretty confident about it which even to him, knowing her for more than a decade, felt a little unsettling, but then that was something he understood about her and he knew he was one of the few that got it: Paige didn’t join the Marshals because she was interested in justice, she joined so that she would have near free-reign to do whatever she wanted. All the time they had known each other, he had only heard her stories. He never thought he’d be in one, but here they were about to go after a Detroit crime boss on some derelict airfield on an island in the middle of the ocean.

What sounded like a small turbine began to spool up on the other side of the building breaking the silence. “C’mon, let’s get this over with.” Paige sad flatly.
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