Pilatus

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

Paige Kennedy

There was a wash basin in the corner of the shop and Paige went over to clean up the best she could as he spoke. She tossed the spent pair of rubber gloves the first aid kit offered with a trick shot off the wall into a far waste bin. Though her hands were clean her sleeves were stained with a combination of Milo's blood and alcohol. A few drops had also made it to her jeans. Both would would be a write off. In spite of it all though, she was beaming inside and a triumphant smile was creeping across her face as the warm water ran over her forearms. Two in a day was unheard of. Like a four minute mile. Bob had been a case of old fashioned police-work while Jackie was almost a matter of luck. She hadn't even been looking for him until chance brought Milo's revolver into her hands. The man had been very good at his craft, but like any old time criminal, real outlaws, would tell you, greed would get you locked up or killed quicker than a bullet.

Her stomach groaned slightly at the mention of food as she dried her hands. Pulling her phone out of her back pocket she quickly swiped away a few notifications to look into Milo's suggestion. "I think that silliness is over now," She said referring to the race. "Traffic is still gonna suck though." Her eyes scanned over the red and yellow highlighted lines of the traffic grid then scrolled down to the reviews of the restaurant itself. She knew nothing about the local fare. With the exception of her golf outing, she'd hardly done anything other than work since landing in Sol. "Looks pretty swanky," She said. She glanced at herself in a polished mirror that Milo used for some part of his work and cringed. Her hair had fallen away considerably from its regular tie and her face had some kind of smudge from scratching at an itch while working on his arm. Then there was the coppery scent of blood mixed with alcohol and the rough, burnt smell of metal that permeated everything in his shop and clung to her clothes. "God, I look like hell."

Looking back over at Milo, it really appeared that there'd been a heavy burden lifted off him. He wasn't spun up and tense like he'd been at the Winter Party and he wasn't mired in self loathing like she'd found him on Wednesday. He didn't have to thank her for doing her job, but turning his offer down felt in poor taste after what they'd just accomplished and she was in too good of a mood to refuse a free dinner, particularly an expensive one. "Well, if you don't mind waiting," She said running a hand through her hair. It already felt smoky and greasy and she loathed having to wash it again to look presentable. "Just run me back up to the parking garage. I'm gonna have John Dillinger's car here towed away so I can play with it later."

@RoccanIronclad

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

Joel Nicolosi

The cars swerved back and forth as drivers kept the tire temperatures up. Yellow caution lights flashed around the circuit as the field was grouped back together after a collision near the entrance to the tunnel. Just as in the beginning of the race, a black GT-R was out in front, but this time it was the teammate car, not the same one that Joel battled with at the race start. Joel worked the wheel back and forth as they made another round of the circuit while the race-marshals cleaned up the multi-colored bits of an NSX and a Corvette that had gotten together making the turn into the tunnel.

Exciting bit of strategy we’ve seen come out of the NISMO paddock this afternoon, Rob. One commentator chimed in. There would still be one more lap under caution while the wreckage was swept off the track.

Yes, they’ve certainly done the unexpected here. The British commentator came back. We were all wondering why the second car never made a stop on the first round, but what they’ve done here is they’ve loaded him up with a full tank and hard tires and allowed him to stay out until the second round, before switching to a lighter fuel load and a soft compound, though the real bit of strategy comes into play when you look at the second driver swap.

It’s more like a gamble, you’re not truly in the lead until you’ve made the second swap, so you take on fuel and hard tires at the start, expand your lead until the second round, make the stop and then hope for a caution in final third of the race. The first commentator replied. And then you make your second swap under caution before the field is grouped back together. If the caution doesn’t come, you’ve essentially disqualified yourself. It’s a very gutsy move.

Perhaps not the most sporting of moves either, particularly when you already have the championship under wraps for the season. Said the Brit. But the rules only state the drivers have to change places twice per car, there’s no requirement for laps driven... Some might call it slightly underhanded at this point, Sol City being the final race, others may call it an effective bit of strategy.

Yes, it’s the same boldness we’ve seen from the NISMO team all season. The helicopter camera panned over the field. Masterful tacticians, they plan to win whether they’re ten laps down or ten seconds ahead. There’s never a thought of settling for P2. The camera moved to a steady shot of Joel in the 300. They’ve got to be feeling good about themselves right now.

It took Nicolosi about thirty laps to get round them on the first leg. The man’s accent denoted a sense of drama, hope and impending finality. He’d called races for decades and was very good at his job. Now he’ll have to do it in less than ten. I wouldn’t rule him out, but it’s going to be a tall order for sure. The camera cut to numerous scenes of the crews staring up, pointing at diagnostic screens, crossing arms and sharing concerned glances. A brief clip flashed by of Marlin and Tommy talking from the top of the hauler. The camera looked up from the ground below as Lou stood and wiped a hand over his face. Joel’s dad spoke something and both nodded in agreement. The safety car peeled away into the paddock and the full throttle roar of the remaining pack howled across the starting line and back up the hill.

Tommy watched the live feed alongside Marlin. Part of him couldn’t believe they were still in it and another part of him hated the helpless feeling of being a spectator. He clinched his teeth. No one spoke. All eyes were on the race feed. Again, Joel followed the GT-R around the circuit neither gaining nor loosing. Two more laps ticked away and the radio was quiet. With crossed arms, Tommy began to roll his fingers with one hand and tap one foot. He looked at Lou and Joel’s dad. How they stayed so calm was beyond him. He was reminded of how he was not originally a racing driver by profession. He was a football player and watching the car go across the cameras, still behind, felt like slowly watching them loose the Super Bowl. The quiet continued another two laps.

“You gonna get this show on the road or are we taking second place today?” Joel’s dad said finally breaking the silence. The radio was quiet in reply.

The sound of his father’s voice came through as they took the uphill again. That same tone he had heard since childhood: The same one that told him when to get his act together. Sure, he had a plan. He wasn’t going to settle for second, but it was that tone. That growling rasp that made him feel like he was twelve and they were at the go-kart track again. For Joel, there was never any fun when they went to the track in his youth, you either won it all or you went home a loser. All the karts were the same, you just had to be the best. Being there for “fun” was a joke for those that didn’t mind losing. The 300 hadn’t even been expected to be competitive the first couple years they raced the Grand Prix, but this year, for the first time it was an even match. He knew what it meant and could feel the rage building in his chest.

The nose of the 300 was tucked under the back the sleek GT-R again. On an open circuit the refined downforce generated by the black car would have easily allowed them to pull away, but on the streets of Sol, none of the hours of wind-tunnel testing or multi-million dollar development mattered. It was a street-fight. The older Nissan pushed underneath the tail wing loosening the rear tires grip on the track. The Japanese driver fought against the fishtailing of the car as Joel mimicked his every move through the street section. He could feel the 300 push against the weight of the GT-R in his seat. He knew he was faster. The afternoon brightness of the harbor came up again and they swept into the tunnel. Squinting hard against the change of light, he cut to the inside then back out. He knew the driver wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him and be prepared for the tunnel exit. Joel was alongside as the blast of daylight came up in white blindness.

Nicolosi to the inside out of the tunnel! The commentator shouted. The two cars were side by side down the hill as the first chicane came up. Both drove in hard, smoke ignited as the brakes locked up on each car. Neither gave an inch. The GT-R had the preferred line, but Joel dug hard to keep alongside. The next chicane was reversed. They kept their delicate dance in line abreast barely scraping fenders as the next turn came up.

Joel could see people were no longer sitting along the harbor- Everyone was standing. He felt the cars touch as they came around the long left-hander through the harbor. He thought he could hear the shouts of the crowd even over the engine. The black car was still there, right alongside. Joel fought against the tail of the 300 sliding as they came around the last corners carrying far too much speed. He stomped hard on the gas early in spite of it bringing the wall up dangerously close. The side mirror’s shadow nearly made contact with the grooved steel that rushed by. The Japenese driver did the same and they touched again, harder this time. The line was in sight and the flag was waving. He could see both teams pit crews hanging on the inside of the pitwall fence. He forced the GT-R to the inside in a quick flick of the wheel, not giving the man a chance to push his advantage on the straightaway. They scraped fenders again and it was almost surreal. The track ahead was clear. It was a drag race now, just like at the airport. Joel held his breath, his grip on the wheel tightening with every centimeter of track they covered side by side. He put his full weight on the accelerator pedal as if he were going to push it through the floor. The angry scream of the GT-R’s exhaust note was blaring in his right ear. The grid lines came up and flashed underneath. He could see the wave of the flag and the ripple of the checkers in the official’s hand. They flashed underneath the gantry door to door.

@PrinceAlexus

What Are You Listening To?

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

Paige Kennedy

Paige watched the man crumple over to the floor not unlike the little street thug from whom she pulled Milo's revolver. He hit the floor hard with a gasping huff. The blow had taken the wind out of his lungs and he fought with straining breaths for oxygen. Her face was cold and discerning as she looked down on him. Milo thought she was keeping him from pummeling the man further, but it was actually he that was keeping her from taking it a step further. Jackie was getting off easy, for now. She put her knee on his back and proceeded to cuff him. He grumbled something and she tightened the metal rings down hard into his wrists with a ratcheting click. "Oh, Jackie," She said with feigned empathy. "When this is over with you're gonna wish I'd blacked you out with a bullet." She moved on searching his pockets and his jacket, putting everything he had on the table: A phone, his wallet, a few loose business cards and a set of keys to a Lincoln. "You're not going back to some country-club lockup this time," She continued, "No, this time it's the Federal Pen." She pulled a larger handgun from the small of his back and then another light caliber from an ankle holster, removing the magazines and racking the slides so he could see himself being completely disarmed as the chambered rounds bounced away in his view. "I figure after you get tossed around like a pool toy for a few weeks you'll come around, maybe even make a good Barbie doll yourself."

Satisfied with her search she got up and wiped her hands with one of Milo's shop cloths. She looked carefully at his wound as she took out her phone and sent out a prepared call. In less than a minute a cadre of unmarked Marshal Service vehicles and State Police were at Milo's doorstep to haul away Jackie Costa. In her checking-into of Jackie, Paige had run across some vague connections to SCPD, something he'd inadvertently confirmed when Milo revealed the large revolver she recovered. Consequently, they hadn't informed the City Police of being on the gangster's trail. She suspected long ago that some of them were dirty. It was the same anywhere.

"He gonna need an ambulance?" A fairly tall and fit State Trooper said looking at Milo patting his wound.

"Dont waste your time," Paige replied, "He's too stubborn for that. I'll patch him up. I need the practice, it's been a while."

"Heard this was your second one today?" The Trooper said.

"Yea, we got that little puke at the Ritz early this morning." Paige said.

"Where're you from?" The man asked. His stony features became more quizzical.

"Delta City."

The Trooper nodded, "I like that accent," He produced a business card and handed it to her. Looking around briefly, everyone had what they had come for and he nodded lightly in satisfaction that Jackie was in custody. "Well if you've got King Aragon here taken care of we're gonna be on our way. Gimmie a call if you need anything." He tipped the brim of his crisp campaign hat in old west style and Paige gave him a little smirk. She had no idea who King Aragon was.

After they were gone, she rummaged through a few drawers in the kitchen and came back with a small first aid kit, a bottle half-full of clear liquid, a wooden spoon and a couple glasses. "Alright, I'm not promising it will be pretty," She proclaimed, setting everything down next to Jackie's captured treasure-trove of items. She couldn't wait to look through his phone or see where the car's GPS had gone. "But I promise it will hold." She pulled a chair up and sat on the table to get an easier angle to work. Pushing her sleeves back she poured him a small glass and slid it over along with the spoon as she began setting everything out to stitch up his arm.

@RoccanIronclad

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

@RoccanIronclad

Oh, it's getting good now.

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

Joel Nicolosi

Joel whipped swiftly into the pit stall where the rest of the team was waiting, tires out, fuel can and air hose ready. In a flash the air jacks went up and he was out of the car swapping places with Tommy in a carefully choreographed dance with the crew. If nothing else, they could do a very fast pit stop. It was almost comical and one of the greatest assets for which the team was known. Tommy’s former teammates towered over many of the rest of the crews and they moved with experienced NFL precision though not over a field with a ball, but with wheels and tires and an air ratchet. Joel checked Tommy’s harness just as the car settled back on its fresh tires. A race marshal watched carefully. The penalty for leaving the pit stall without being properly restrained was automatic disqualification. He patted his co-driver firmly on the helmet and rolled over the wall with the rest of the crew. Tommy was out of the paddock and on the track when Joel looked up. The entire stop lasted about twelve seconds.

High-fives went around the pit area. It was a clean stop and Tommy was in good position. The former quarterback actually preferred the middle section of the race. Whereas Joel preferred belting out fast laps from the front, Tommy liked the strategic nature of navigating the field mixed up in the first round of stops and driver changes. No lap was ever the same and a driver had to be patient and think several moves ahead. It reminded him of his NFL days in a way. The ball in his hands fresh out of the grip of the center, the anticipation of the defense, the sixth-sense of danger from a blitz, scrambling out of the pocket or launching a bullet pass over the middle between two defenders. His hands worked the wheel and paddles while his feet danced between the brake and accelerator. A slower car came up and he pirouetted around working the next car in the process. Eyes darted across the mirrors as the RPMs roared. He had one of Joel’s metalcore songs stuck in his head and nodded in rhythm.

The fresh air tasted sweet and clean as Joel removed his helmet and ran a hand through matted, sweaty hair. He cleared the steps to the top of the hauler in a few wide bounds finding Lou and his dad occupying their regular positions and Marlin in Tommy’s spot behind them. “Damn, I love that car.” He said stepping up behind them.

“Nice pass.” Joel’s dad said. He was busy spotting for Tommy now. With the 300 working its way through traffic, his job had quickly become more exciting.

“Nice job, dude.” Lou said glancing back and giving an affirmative fist bump. In the heat of the crowd, the car’s computer reported it was running slightly hotter, but everything remained within acceptable tolerance.

Joel was feeling good. One section down and they were in it. Tommy was good in traffic and he drove the car just like he was out on the 923 beating rush hour in a Ferrari. He glanced up at the live feed from the local station, but caught a whiff of something vaguely familiar across his nostrils making his nose curl slightly. “What the hell is that smell?” He said looking around, “Smells like burnt antifreeze.”

“That’s miss Marlin’s coffee,” Joel’s dad said not looking back, “She’s not your girlfriend.”

Joel looked slightly confused.

“I thought she was a pilot based on what we saw back at the airport the other day,” Lou said with a broad, white toothed grin, “Now she tells us she’s an air hostess, got the uniform and everything. You should ask about it sometime, yea?”

Joel looked over Marlin, then down at the coffee cup and back up again catching the glance of her grey eyes, “I don’t even want to know what you all have been talking about.” He said shaking his head.

@PrinceAlexus

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

Paige Kennedy

"It's okay, Jackie," Paige said cocking the hammer back. "I didn't forget mine." She met Milo's gaze as soon as he looked up. Her words were like ice-water, but her olive eyes held back a flaming rage that only few still living would recognise. When the shot went off she came around the corner hoping not to find Milo on the floor. She hadn't been able to see the gun pulled. She'd waited, listening. They needed more. The metalsmith remained cool though, and managed to get the greasy mobster to really put it all on the table. She could see the blood staining his torn shirt-sleeve from what looked like a grazing shot... Now they'd be able to put him away for a very long time. "US Marshals- Put the gun down," She commanded. "Hands up, nice and slow." Her SiG was pointed firmly at his back.

After she had their tech experts trace every possible connection to the burner phone number, she next pulled the public traffic cameras near Milo's shop and looked for anyone that matched the description. License plates and rental car records were all back-checked thoroughly. When she arrived at Final Round Armory, Paige had a firm understanding of with whom and what they were going to be facing: Jackie Costa had a wrap-sheet that weighed about ten pounds, had been in and out of prison multiple times, but like most of the pros, never on anything that really stuck. He'd filled his niche in numerous cities brokering guns and money for his Detroit bosses and always preying on the same small shops that no one would notice disappear if things went awry in his racket. Milo was just the next in line.

Paige nodded slightly, motioning for Milo to get out of the way. She was sure it wasn't the first time Jackie pulled that glancing trickshot only this time the joke was on him. Typical asshole. It was fitting his sleazeball game would be what put him away for good.

@RoccanIronclad

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

Paige Kennedy

Paige regarded Milo carefully as he ducked into the refrigerator behind her. She'd floated a few things out there, but he didn't seem that concerned. He didn't say a word about her shirt, nor about her date-night jab and when she mentioned Victoria's sister, he was unphased. She could guess the reason for the latter. Judging by his reaction to the girl's pop-in visit the other day, they were on the outs and the text she'd later sent him with the damage to the BMW may have sunk it completely. Oh well... She thought. The girl had keyed her car. Now Tiny-Tina was out of a boyfriend. Tough shit, bitch.

What he seemed most excited about was again trying to get her to take one of his handmade knives... which was also strange. Just a week ago, he was ready to kill her when he got all huffy puffy at the Winter Party and now he was giving her gifts. Sure, they were nice and all and she loved the ornate details, but a knife was never really her style. The visceral nature of it turned her stomach. Aside from that though was again the fact that he was giving her a gift, one that he'd spent time to make hinself. Which really meant one thing to Paige: He was thinking about her.

She took the handle and felt the gentle weight of it in her hand. Like everything he made, it had a certain natural balance to it. She looked at the intricate metalwork and engraving. How he, of all people, had the patience for it was a mystery itself. She glanced up at him and then back down at the blade. There felt like some growing uneasiness about him, but she doubted it was from the company they were soon to have. She hadn't really observed him ever being afraid of anyone. It was something else.

"If I take this one," She said breaking up the pause in the air, "Are you gonna get off my back about it?"

@RoccanIronclad

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

Joel Nicolosi

It’s the Grand Prix of Sol City, present to you by… The commentator went on through a short list of the major sponsors for the race including everything from large banks to tire companies as the broadcast returned from commercial. The logos faded in and out along with a montage of events from the day: The flyover, the grid girls standing in front of the cars, cheering spectators and a barrage of flags arrayed down the pit lane. The live shot came back up as the helicopter hovered over the river looking towards Old Harbor where the cars wound their way around the chicanes from out of the tunnel. As the race had settled in for a few laps, the spacing between some of the cars had expanded to a safer distance. The black GT-R still led the race and Joel was behind him by about three car lengths between the turns.

We should be coming up on the first round of pit-stops any time now, Rob. The drivers names, positions and time off the leader were scrolling across the bottom of the screen. That’s right, it’ll be interesting to see if Joel takes another run at it before they come in, The second commentator replied. He was absolutely hounding the GT-R of Sato for the first ten laps, but seems to have mellowed a bit now. Another montage played of some of Joel’s passing attempts and the black GT-R’s successful countermoves. He gave it another go after that spin on lap fifteen grouped the field back together, but hasn’t given it another try since. The live shot changed from the helicopter to a stationary shot of the front straightaway as the lead GT-R flashed by. Joel was about a second behind him. Both of them are on the super-soft compound which are good for about thirty laps here, The man continued in a very sporting British accent, The advantage of being in the lead is that you can set the pace for the first round of stops, especially if the chap behind you has already wrung out his tires, you can string him out, build your lead and force him to pit first, The camera shifted once again, this time to a view down the pit stalls where there was typical movement about, but no teams had tires and men out ready for a stop, Let’s go down to pit lane and check in with David who’s outside the OHI pit, go ahead David…

Yes Rob, I’ve spoken with Team Nismo and just now got a chance to talk to Lou Grego and Tommy Lomax of OHI, The polo shirted reporter, also British, shouted over the sound of the paddock behind him and the continual sound engines from the spread out field, Obviously both teams keeping it VERY close to the cuff right now, Team Nismo tell me they hope to gain a significant lead by keeping their second car on the harder compound today while Lou and Tommy are both confident they can leapfrog the GT-R in the pits much like they did last year...

Lou’s nose curled slightly as he watched the readouts and telemetry the car sent back to the hauler mounted crew-chief station. He was mildly concerned that Joel had not been able to get in the lead. No one expected it to be easy, though. The Japanese were a world-class team. He balanced the pros and cons in his head of calling Joel in now or waiting. Joel was enough of a driver that he knew he could keep him out there even as the tires grip faded, but then there was the second GT-R on the harder compound; they would make a quicker stop without having to change tires, then he had to think about Tommy’s run which would mostly be in a mixed field of traffic and then what the hell was that smell???

Lou looked back from the monitors at Marinalia and Tommy who were standing behind them, “Tommy, whadda hell is that smell?”

“Smells like burnt antifreeze,” Joel’s dad said. He glanced back from his seat and looked down at Marlin’s coffee cup, “I think it’s Joel’s girlfriend’s coffee.” He said with a chuckle.

Tommy burst into laughter, “Now that is funny, ‘Joel’s girlfriend’” He howled. The three men all laughed.

“You really drinkin’ that?” Lou said looking at Marlin with a grin. He shook his head.

“He’s goin for it!” Tommy said pointing at the television monitor. Everyone turned back to look at the coverage feed: Joel was again tucked in on the bumper of the GT-R as they came off the first turn into the narrowest street section, not normally used for passing and barely able to fit two cars in line abreast. He didn’t back off this time and jinked to the inside drawing a block from the Japanese driver then quickly cut back to the right, however this time it was a fake and as the black car swung to block yet again, Joel crossed back behind him and got the nose of the 300 to the inside line for the hairpin. For a brief moment both cars occupied the width of the track. Joel could see the rivets in the metal barrier he was so close, but the way ahead was for once, wide open. He thought he could hear a shout go up from the stands as he dug hard into the inside of the turn and the now second-place GT-R was forced to concede the line.

Everyone in the hauler seemed to exhale at once and Joel crackled over the radio, “’Bout damn time wasn’t it?” He said, “Gimmie about three more laps and tell Tommy not to forget his purse when I come in.”

@PrinceAlexus

Post a random fact about yourself.

Someone double parked behind me while i was at a bar one night. The Jeep I had at the time had a big brush guard on the front so I just plowed through the fence and onward through somebody's yard to get out.