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28 days ago
Legit watching how long that 1v1 interest check stays on the front page. I'll never quit this site.
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1 mo ago
Discipline a heretic and he'll be loyal for a moment, put him to the flame and he'll be loyal the rest of his life.
2 likes
2 mos ago
Sometimes the heresy purges itself.
2 likes
2 mos ago
It's called trash CAN, not trash CANNOT. You got this 👍
6 likes
7 mos ago
If this is your first night at Waffle House, you have to fight.
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@Rabidporcupine

Just about got this looked over completely. We'll have you taken care of tomorrow for sure.
@Rabidporcupine

Go for it
Joel Nicolosi


“I’ll go get you another one.” The girl said seeing that Joel was now the only one without a coffee. There still should have been one left, but someone from the group had apparently taken two. She didn’t like for their star to be without.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Joel said. His attention was on a short highlight reel of the rally in Jamaica that was playing across the big screen. He watched carefully. There were a couple clips from stages where he thought he could have gone faster or perhaps put the nose a little closer to the apex as the back of the car rotated, but it would all look the same to most people: the little VW ripping down a bleached white dirt roadway in the Blue Mountains, drawing a rooster tail of dust behind it as it crossed fields of sugarcane farms. The constructed jump on the final stage was the best part and it hadn’t seemed that high being in the car. They just flew right through it. He’d let off at just the right second for the nose to come down and the car to soar evenly and they landed firmly on all four wheels like he’d done it a hundred times. That particular part was always satisfying to watch. “I could use a little walk. I’ll go get it.” He said turning his glance back.

As he stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to head out, he immediately found someone in a Daedalus uniform was right behind him wanting something signed and nearly bumped into her. “Oh, uhhh.” He glanced around momentarily for one of their promo posters to sign and caught sight of Marlin and another one of her cohorts hanging around the cars on display. When she saw him, he gave a smirk and a wink before turning back to her friend. “What’s his name?” He scribbled on the slick poster-paper as the young pilot spoke. Joel’s signature was a wild blast over the photo of the same Porsche in the display with himself standing next to it. Normally, he was very critical of pictures of himself, but the one they’d chosen wasn’t bad: A bend in the parkway road up to Mount Atlas where the low clouds had settled around the base of the mountain. They had designed a very simple black driving suit for him to go with the car for the upcoming event and he held his signature orange helmet underarm.

“You know, I once raced your coworker over there,” He said handing over the poster and tilting his head slightly towards where Marlin was standing. “In my other racecar, you should ask her about it sometime.”

@PrinceAlexus
Paige Kennedy


To his credit, it was not difficult for Tao to produce a list of the doors that Agent Barrett’s keycard had opened. Though, what Paige hadn’t really considered was matching those doors to their physical locations which had become somewhat of an exercise in tedium for the past couple of hours. The list that he came up with was something like an Excel sheet, but the very basic programming of the security system only gave a date, time and a transponder number that corresponded to the card readers mounted next to a given door the card was used to access. In the design of the building, no one had ever really considered having to compare keycard passes to their actual locations. The cards either worked or they didn’t based on the user’s assigned access level. The logic behind the transponder numbers wasn’t intuitive, just utilitarian. Paige could remember roughly the time she had confronted the FBI Agent and after they had found that entry on the list, the rest more logically fell in line by time.

What she also hadn’t considered was how bizarre the trail was going to get after they initially got on the scent. She carried a tablet in one hand with a map file that displayed various engineering drawings that Tao had also been easily able to provide. They had gone downstairs several times to the point where the architecture appeared more original and much more basic, not updated and modern like the main floors. They had walked a long drab hallway of bare, white cinder block walls, fluorescent lights and VCT tiles that looked like surplus supplies from a schoolbuilding project. The only thing missing was the lockers. It was eerily familiar. From what it looked like on the maps, the long hallways seemed to have been some sort of method of direct travel from different points across the huge facility and was simply a special design feature of the building. Other than the low hum of the lights and the steady squeak of sneakers, it was stark quiet. From what she could tell, it appeared they were somewhere beneath the fifty-yard line of the football stadium.

The room they found themselves in was fairly large; surprisingly so for something underground and seemed to be some sort of records storage area. Vertical metal racking housed stacks of palletized boxes in neat order. The smell of aged cardboard and musty paper was thick in the air as soon as they opened the door. Out of curiosity, Paige pulled the top off of one of the boxes finding several very old copies of the Star Messenger with various articles from the construction of the Matthews Bridge, Daedalus Airlines and Rhinos being added to the Sol City Zoo. Other boxes seemed to denote bank records, sports contracts and a legion of other subjects related to the city back through the decades- there were hundreds of boxes, all neatly stacked and placed in their racks. A solitary forklift sat covered ready for use to access the higher racking. Dust was thick over everything and Paige rubbed her hands together as she put the top back. Frustration was setting in.

The logsheet was perfectly clear and they had eliminated all other possibilities. There were two transponder pings close together and they had to have come from inside the room, but they had searched up, down and all over the walls, finding nothing. In addition, the transponder codes were distinctly different from all the others, like they hadn’t been part of the original layout or that they were a different brand or even installed at a later time. There were any number of scenarios, but whatever it was, they couldn’t find them. Paige was getting frustrated and felt like she was being outsmarted. She backtracked her steps through the room trying to think of anything they would have missed, but still nothing. Shaking her head, she leaned against the forklift and began stroking her braid with both hands, almost pulling it as her mind continued to churn. Her lips were a narrow line as her eyes nearly bored a whole through the concrete floor. She wasn’t going to admit defeat, but she wasn’t sure what to say to Tao either. Interestingly, she could tell he was just as frustrated at not being able to solve the puzzle.

“I don’t know Tao,” She said finally. It was cool in the room, but she rolled her sleeves back slightly and crossed her arms. They had walked a lot. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think she’d be hunting underground for what was apparently some hidden passage underneath the stadium in shithole Sol City, but here she was and had dragged the local computer hacker along for the ride to boot. Good job, Paige An internal voice boasted sarcastically. She shook her head.

@Allycat
Joel Nicolosi


Joel had never spent much time in Corona Park. Being a native of Sol City, and from Southside, it was more of a place you talked about, but never actually visited. The whole Riverside area tended to be viewed as pretentious; full of snobs and hipsters- not his sort of crowd in the least. Still, inside of the last week, he found himself there twice, which was two more times than he reckoned he had spent within the last two decades. A gentle breeze ruffled the black and orange Rebellion flags that were strung up along their expansive hospitality area which was an impressive amalgamation of one the car haulers and a carefully assembled collection of weatherproof fabric sections that formed one of the biggest displays in the park. A set of steps led up to the top of the hauler’s trailer where a “look-out” post of sorts was assembled that afforded a view of the whole festival all the way out to the river. It was the same set up they used on site for a rally.

Steam rose up from various dishes being prepared and different music blended together in the distance faintly amongst the movement and chatter of people shuffling through the various displays, booths and demonstrations. Joel didn’t pay much attention to any of it, other than the pleasing smell that was impossible to ignore as he sat in the lofted perch alone flipping through his phone reading some of the various international motorsports stories: Drama in F1, driver changes in the WEC, Balance of Power updates for IMSA GT and the opening rounds of the IndyCar season. Every once in a while he might comment on a story within social media, but in general he kept his digital mouth shut from too much controversy otherwise marketing wouldn’t be very happy with him. However, his sarcastic wit was an overwhelming hit with the fans and he had come to find the whole “liking”, “retweeting” and commenting craze mildly entertaining. Just handling his own social media accounts personally was enough for most fans to fall in love.

The morning had gone smoothly and the public relations/marketing people were exceptionally professional. Everything ran like clockwork for the morning unveiling: A new drink, Maximum Attack was debuted along with the matching orange Porsche to be entered in the upcoming Vineyard Rally in the southeastern mountains. While not an official WRS event, the decision was made to enter a car partly as a promotional display and partly as a technological display of the company’s racing prowess. It really was one of the best cars he had ever driven. The grip was there when he needed it and the rear-engine layout allowed him to pirouette around an acute hairpin effortlessly. The German engineers from Porsche had poured over it, white labcoats and all, listening carefully to ever piece of input he offered about the car’s performance until they were fully confident that any other problems could only come from the seat and not the car. As he and the VP of Marketing had pulled the cover off before the assembled crowd, he had to admit, they were probably right. It was a work of art, visually and technologically and the crowd loved the modernized Rebellion snake motif.

In the time that followed, they handed out a lot of free drinks while Joel and his co-driver took photos and signed everything that was put in front of them: shirts, hats, posters and cards, toys, phone covers, napkins… anything. They both wondered about the condition of a caffeine fueled festival crowd. He’d seen whole families walk by with parents and kids alike chugging on free orange energy drinks. They laughed it off and kept signing and by the end of the first session they’d nearly gone through a box of sharpies and were getting writer's cramp. As much as he really did enjoy the people, he was glad when it ended and let the very attractive girls from marketing take over for a while passing out more freebies and collecting information. He knew his respite wouldn’t last long on the loft as they would soon be allowing public access to the top of the hauler, but it was fresh air and offered a modicum of peace before he’d have to go hide in the hauler lounge.

The air was cool, though his black team jacket and jeans were fairly comfortable. He kept a matching hat and sunglasses on throughout most of the morning. As he stood up and stretched he could see the fairly large coffee order the team had placed making its way across the lawn being carried in multiple styrofoam trays. Though they were all in full swing about the new drink, everyone working the tent had about all of them they could stand and the cooler weather brought about a consensus for a coffee run, especially when SolBucks was just across the way in their own tent. Joel mosied down to the ground level where the two cars were on display along with a plethora of merchandise sporting the signature orange, Rebellion “R” logo in various designs, a couple console-based racing simulators and a large weatherproof sectional sofa that wrapped around a massive flatscreen television. The crowds had died down enough the young girl tasked with the coffee run began setting the cups out on the small table in front of the television.

“They were freakin’ slammed,” The girl said apologetically as Joel examined the the unmarked cups. She knew his next question. “I tried to get something for everyone, there’s latte’s for the girls, black coffee for the guys, there’s creamer and sugar in the bag,” She shifted the trays around and sat one cup aside. “Joel, i got you an Americano.” She glanced around briefly, obviously stressed and counted the cups. “Let me round up everybody. Guard the coffee!” She shuffled away frantically.

Sensing the opportunity he’d been waiting for, Joel ungracefully plopped down on the sofa, glanced around for a moment and retrieved a flask from inside his jacket pocket, happily dumping a generous amount of the contents into his coffee cup. It was some pricey bourbon Sio had acquired. He had no idea what it was called. She tended to be a very fancy drinker, but it went really well with coffee. Enjoying the sweet, blending aroma as the two liquids swirled he nearly dropped the flask when someone barked his name from a distance. Fuck! He scrambled to put the flask away and get the plastic lid back on his cup as a boisterous crowd erupted up from the back of the hauler. He barely got up and spun around before they came around the corner.

“AH-HA!” A tall, mountain of a man lead the group towards Joel. They were all laughing crudely, some of them in Porsche Engineering polos and others Rebellion. Joel recognized the leader as their guest judge, Bruno. TV didn’t do him justice- He towered over Joel and slapped him firmly on the shoulder in greeting. “Here he is! Michael-fucking-Schumacher!” He shook hands vigorously with a grip that felt like a steel vice and rocked the entire upper body. Some took phone pictures as Joel tried to look presentable while it felt like his hand was being crushed. “I tell you, I saw you in Jamaica, fucking brilliant! Beat those fucking French pricks,” He said, referring to the rival team from Citroen. The boast prompted a fresh chorus of guttural laughter. He wrapped a sweeping arm over Joel’s shoulders and motioned towards the cars. “Volkswagen, Porsche, I fucking love it, perfect!” Being on TV, Bruno had a sense for drama and loved being the center of attention. “I tell you my boy, you come to Germany for the rally, you come to my restaurant, you fucking love it, I take care of everything- Complete Relax.” The PR team had mentioned Bruno could be eccentric and his English was not perfect, but the flair of his booming voice and broken dialect was part of what made him popular.

The young girl who had organized the coffee run motioned to the table for everyone to partake. Bruno of course went first. “Ah, fucking Christ! I haven’t had decent coffee since Lufthansa- I take it!” His massive arm grabbed up the cup before Joel could even get a word out and took a healthy swig. His eyes immediately darted to the small hole in the lid as he swirled what was left of the gulp quizzically through his tastebuds again. “Not fucking bad.” He said with some surprise satisfaction. He turned with the cup in hand and began to walk away with the whole crowd in tow again motioning to the cars as they left the tent, “Joel! Don’t go anywhere! I come back later, we take the cars, I cook for everyone, it will be fucking beautiful!” A raucous chorus of laughter and rapid German dialect followed him away. There were still a few hours until the judging started.

“Aw, he took your cup.” The girl said eyeing the table.

“Yep, sure did.”

24 Hour Time Skip Warning


Temporal jump to SATURDAY . Special Event . Sol City Market Festival & Cooking Competition!



Consider what your character(s) may have been throughout the week.

Any questions please let us know.


As always, if you feel that you are not ready to skip. PLEASE speak up!
Plugging right along nicely here. It's a good time to join up for anyone interested. We are about to start a new time skip this weekend.

@PrinceAlexus@Almalthia
Just a quick FYI, we are finishing up the template on the next time skip (and it looks to be a classic), so look for a formal announcement hitting this weekend.

~P
Joel Nicolosi


Joel flicked his thumb repeatedly back and forth over the rear edge of the GTR’s spoiler, feeling the sharpness of the carbon fiber profile under his skin. Like most of his and Tommy’s conversations, it was rarely on topic and ranged from the completely obscure to making fun of Footsteps various competitors to which actors were better in which roles, various points of Sol City nostalgia, women, and anything else that they considered worthy of thought. They’d been at it long enough that Joel could see his breath in the late night air as he let out a healthy yawn.

“Time for bed, old man.” Tommy chided.

“Shit, I’m tired.” Joel said and rubbed a hand over his face. “Was on the mountain all day.”

“Gettin’ ready for the next round, right?” Tommy said. “Wasn’t it Argentina?”

“Yeah, but we weren’t running that car.” Joel replied. He glanced southward towards the Luna Sports Stadium. The lights were still on, but the baseball game had long since ended. When they had first come outside in the slightly elevated back lot behind Footsteps, the occasional cheers could be heard coming from the crowd along with muffled announcements from the PA system off in the distance. The sound carried well in the cooling evening, though the city could be remarkably peaceful once night firmly settled in. “We have another one they’re gonna debut at the Park Festival, Saturday,” Joel snorted a little bit and shrugged. “It’s supposed to be a big secret.”

Being an only child, Tommy was the closest thing Joel ever had to a brother and there was scant little unsaid between them. If Joel had the codes to launch a nuclear missile, he would tell them to Tommy and vice-versa. It was just principle. Implying that there was a secret about anything, meant that whatever information was supposed to be withheld was quickly forthcoming.

Tommy crossed his arms and smirked, leaning against the back of his Cadillac. “Oh yeah?”

“It’s a 997 Porsche.” Joel said with some amusement. “Seriously one of the best cars I’ve ever driven, thing runs like the wind and screams like a banshee.” He continued. “We’re gonna enter it in the Vineyard Rally coming up, it’s bright orange.”

“Orange?”

“Yeah, they’re rolling out a new drink too... orange flavored, naturally. I think that’s the big secret more than the car.” Joel said.

“Does it taste good?” Tommy scratched at his stubble mildly inquisitive. He wasn’t a huge fan of energy drinks in general, but a couple of Rebellion flavors made for decent pre-workout options in a pinch.

“Tastes like orange soda with a shitload of caffeine.” Joel said with a chuckle. “I like it, I think it’s geared more towards a fitness crowd since it’s sugar free, but with all that caffeine, they know good and well that people are just gonna buy it for the rush.” He shrugged. “Then there’s the whole ‘city colors’ thing, the image, and it’s a big to-do...I just like driving the car.”

“Sounds about right,” Tommy said with a nod. “You know, speaking of the Festival, I was thinking about doing that meal competition this time. Couple of our guys are pretty talented, might be worth a shot. I think the entry deadline has passed though, maybe not-”

“You don’t wanna do that.” Joel said flatly cutting him off.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, that’s supposed to be a big secret too, but they’ve got some celebrity German chef that the city forked over a shit-ton of money to book as a judge. Bunch of the engineers working on the car know who he is, apparently he’s a big hit over in Europe and a total asshole.” Joel squinted a little and looked away towards the glowing cityscape trying to jog his memory momentarily. “Bruno… Bruno something or other. I can’t remember, but they call him ‘the Panzer’ or something like that. He has a reality show over there where he just rips people a new one over how bad their food is and they just love watching him cuss people out on TV.”

Tommy laughed, “Somehow with our mayor, that does not surprise me, so scratch that plan, thanks for the warning.” He shifted his wrist causing his watch to display the time, a little surprised at how long they had been talking. It was definitely getting colder and the restaurant would be locking up soon. “Hey, what was that business in the paper the other day about giving the Isle of Man record a shot? Max really going to put up the money for that? I haven’t talked to him since the race.” He was a little surprised that Joel had kept in touch with the old man.

“Oh yeah, I’m gonna do it.” Joel said with a smirk that quickly morphed into a contemplative grin. “He’s gonna put up the money and the car, wants to bring the record back to England. Subaru holds it right now for production cars.” He had never been to England, let alone the Isle of Man, but he had no doubt that with the right setup he could get it done. He knew he only needed to match the Subaru through the corners, the wide open sections were where an Aston or a McLaren could stretch out on speed, is where he’d make the difference. “I’m gonna need a crew to get everything together, you know you want in.”

Tommy thought about it momentarily and reminisced. “You know I played over there a couple times, in Wembley, lost both times too.” He laughed. “I might be bad luck! But yeah, you know I’m in. Where are you getting the car?”

“He’s flying it over here,” Joel said. “I’m not even sure what it’s going to be. I made a couple suggestions. You know how he is.”

“Yeah, I bet Marlin’s gonna love that.” Tommy said with a sly smirk.

“Shit,” Joel huffed. “Just because I race the car, doesn’t mean I have to put up with the granddaughter, business is business.”

“Ha!” Tommy guffawed. “'Business is business’”. Listen to you.” He said. “She was ready to lay it on you at that party.”

“Fucking dodged a bullet there.” Joel said flatly.
Paige Kennedy


Paige glanced up at the mirror in front of them for a moment seeing the onset of commotion as the “band” arrived for what was apparently to be an impromptu performance at Swan Song’s. She didn’t recall the Sirens being a part of what was supposed to be a relaxing evening of music or she would have definitely picked another place to meet Tao. She turned with her elbow on the bar glancing away from Tao for a moment watching them approach. There was a time when she actually had a couple of their songs saved in her music library. Songs she had promptly deleted after Sio’s art showing a few weeks ago. She wasn’t star struck in the least by their bravado, but she was a little surprised that amidst all the gushing, Ethan, the lead singer, came up and spoke to her first despite the fact that they had never actually met. His debonnaire attitude was equivocal and she wondered what it was about her that apparently sent Vika’s boyfriends after her and there was some smug satisfaction in knowing they were just naturally drawn to superior genetics.

Her olive eyes carried on to him, though as she started to answer another familiar face came up to the corner of the bar, Nikki Giancana’s right hand man, the same one that had tried to kill her and Milo on Catalina Island. She knew his real name, but he went by the nickname Yolo and had a rap sheet that matched the monicker which recently included the murder of Nikki’s half brother, Sammy. There was more than enough for her to take him in, but she knew she couldn’t. She’d lied on all of her reports about Milo being there with her and if they questioned him, he could easily blow her story wide open and somewhere on his body would have the bullet wound to prove it. It didn’t bother her though; with Tao alongside, she didn’t think she would have to set an example of staying cool quite so soon, though he’d never know, nor would Yolo’s thrift store pirate escorts, the full extent of what was going on and that she had no intentions whatsoever of making an arrest.

“I’m always at official capacity,” She said cooly, almost temptingly, drawing her jacket back slightly and letting her eyes drift down towards Yolo, meeting his arrogant glance with complete certainty in her smirk. “Eight in the clip and one in the chamber.”

@Almalthia@Allycat
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