World Grand Prix Championship Season 14: Roleplay Thread

[The Republic Of Arkan]

OoC: Woo, post 200.

The Grand Prix of Aels

Lap 32-34

It was going fine for Makeo, coming into lap 32, as he continued to have a decent position after starting in the twenty-fifth position. After sneaking a point in the last race, he hoped to do the same here, or better. Holding the hope that the rain that was coming down wouldn't do to much damage to his position in the race, or the car itself. Already witnessing seven crashes, he hoped not to be the eighth.

Lap 33, come turn 9, he already started to notice something was off, as he started to hydroplane. Readjusting, he continued the race, hoping it was a one off. Radioing in the incident to the pit, he continued to lean into the rest of the lap, hoping not to slide off his wheels. He'd, at this point, slowed down a bit, dropping a position back.

Lap 34, turn 6, everything seemed fine, a car or two still trailing him, still at a decent distance. Turn 7, one of the cars started speeding up, looking to overpass him come turn 8 or 9. Turn 8, the car was nearly on him, trailing behind him only barely. Turn 9, the car hydroplaned again, a bit weaker than before, turning him sideways. The car that was looking to overtake him cut him off, sending him to the wall with a decent sound of metal meeting rubber and concrete.

"Crap,"he groans, tossing his gloves off as a yellow goes up. Slowly, he works his way out of the car, making sure he wasn't injured. Once he finished getting out, he stretched, tossing his helmet into the driver seat before moving in the direction of the paddocks. His day was over, thanks to water.

[Taeshan]

Oliver hadn't been the happiest of camper***s after the first race of the season. Finishing a lap of the pace in 17th wasn't exactly what he envisioned racing in the WGPC to start like. Sure he realized these were real drivers out there, and not your run of the mill Taeshani GP hands, but Oliver felt that he was lacking in speed. It was especially evident in that his teammate, Louis Krindle, finished the race 6th, 11 spots ahead of him. He was sure he could find more speed, and working with his team he went out to try to get some more speed in the second race in Aels.

With MSA-SinVal on the board pointswise it was now time for the team to push for the podium, but first Oliver and his crew realized it might be better to work your way into contention. In the second race after another run of the mill qualifying and rather lacking practice on speed Oliver was prepared to do a bit better. Finishing the race in 14th wasn't exactly, yet again, what he thought he was capable of, but once again he managed to bring home the car in one piece, and that fact alone would have gotten him his spot. He was the slowest remaining car, which was either a good thing or a bad thing depending on how you looked at it.

Oliver had always prided himself on finishing races, but now it just seemed like he couldn't beat anybody on the track and that he could only beat those who didn't manage to log every lap. Oliver was hoping that slowly by the end of the season he will push to finish in the points and get some points for the team. Oliver was not going to play second fiddle all season if he had any say about it. Sure he was the number 2 driver in the stable, but he felt just because you were the number 2, and had slightly lower equipment then your teammate, didn't mean you could not finish above them, and just because you were at a team that might not be favored, didn't mean you couldn't fight for every possible point.

[Aboveland]

Terho clicked the wing doors of his Abovian supercar open and hurried to Edvin to ask him how his times had been. The pair had skipped practice in Ayarii and went straight to Athos, to get to grips with hills, 90 degree turns, chicanes and, most importantly, hairpins. His weakest points were most prominent on Mount Salt for the next race, so he had to be sure he could tame them.

"How'd I do this time round?" Terho asked eagerly.
"Your fastest was 1:34:02 before these three runs, and uh, congrats! Down to 1:29:98!"
Terho gasped.
"Really?! Damn! That was great!"
"The other times lingered around the 1:30-1:31 marks. How'd you feel around the hairpins?"
"Spectacularly. I've found the perfect strategy to go around them. I turn away, then into the apex almost late into the turn. I feel the Gs traveling through my body when I do it, and I never feel I lose speed, especially on that one after the long straight."
"And the right angle turns?"
"Swimmingly. Turns out it's not as hard as I thought it to be. Just take it like an easy turn, only sharper. Reminds me of rallying."
"Chicanes?"
"Man, chicanes are my natural habitat. I can go through them as if I had balls of steel. I don't though. Hmph."
"Ah well, it lets everyone down that balls of steel aren't a possibility. All balls are as mortal as the rest of the body."
"Yeah yeah, okay, moving on."
"Any answer from V+T?"
"On what?"
"Having a whack at taking the new car for a spin. After Chassis Y..."
Terho shut out Edvin's sentence. "I know, I know... no answer yet, and I don't think there will be."
"Rightey ho then. So what now, one last lap and then what?"
"One last lap and we'll go to a sauna."
"Damn Terho, right back at it again with the saunas! What about sushi instead?"
"Por que no los dos?"

[Krytenia]

He'd had worse starts. True, Esteban Guihermez hadn't really gained much, but then, nor had he really lost ground. The orange and navy Cygnus ATR machine, which had struggled in the dry, was starting to come alive. Admittedly, not as much as certain other machines; much to the Krytenian's surprise, the VTM of Terho Tavela had got the jump on him on the previous lap, slipping round the outside of the loose Turn Fifteen hairpin.

No matter, though. The battle for tenth had turned into a train, and the Abovian hadn't managed to hammer home his advantage, instead being stuck behind a group led by a surprisingly off-the-pace McPahan. As the cars mad the run into Turn Thirteen, Steb ducked to the outside to try and take back his place.

It was at exactly this moment that all hell decided to break loose.

The inexperienced Reni Sanderson had erred coming into the corner, and the two cars behind him both saw their opportunity to pass. Their attempts to outbrake the young man from Schiavonia, however, met with disaster. There was the unmistakable screech of skidding tyres, the sickening thud of carbon fibre upon metal...and Tavela was just far enough behind the action to take avoiding action. Unfortunately, though, that action meant moving towards the outside of the track. With his Cygnus committed to the corner, and the grip low even in spite of the well-treaded wet tyres, Steb simply had nowhere to go. His front left clipped the rear right of the Vilitan-built vehicle, launching the Krytenian over the nose of Tavela's car. With poor Steb a mere passenger in this fresh carnage, he could only watch with despair as the car returned to the ground, shearing the front suspension with a shower of sparks and sending the now-detached wheel assembly sadly into the tyre wall.

Crushed, the young Krytenian shook himself down, sullenly exited the car, and trudged back to the pit lane. He knew that the accident hadn't been Tavela's fault, but he wasn't ready to hear the Abovian's apologies. Tavela, to his credit, had kep his car running, but the weight of a six hundred kilogram car using his rear tyre as a launching ramp had taken its toll, and the VTM was back in the garage less than two laps later.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Behind this mess, Moises Delgado afforded himself a wry smile. A poor qualifying had left him almost dead last, but this crash - and the inevitable safety car that followed - worked in his favour. The Guayabalense had committed to a one-stopper, preserving his tyres after the initial scramble from the grid and running as long the tread - and the weather - would allow. With the field slowed to a crawl, Moises took the opportunity to run off-line as much as possible, keeping his tyres cool and giving himself an extra lap or three of running. The lone remaining Cygnus cut a methodical path through the field, running as high as seventh before coming into the pits. As the other drivers made their final stops, Moises settled into an impressive sixth place with nine laps remaining. All looked well, until...

"Moy, hydraulic pressure low. Looks like we'll be losing power."

Well, fuck.

Thankfully, the fault was not severe enough to force the Cygnus into retirement, but the lack of speed meant that Moises could only watch and grit his teeth as four cars whistled by him in the remaining laps. Eventually, the chequered flag fell as blessed relief. Tenth place, and a point on the board. It may have been but a tiny acorn in the championship race, but there would be time to grow that point into a mighty oak of race wins and podium charges.

For the crestfallen Guilhermez, and the frustrated Delgado, the Imperial Grand Prix held hope.

[Schiavonia]

It had all started so well for Reni Sanderson. Points on debut in Hodori was great for him. No, the debut wasn't quite on the same scale as Terho Tavela's, but for a driver who had been plodding around in junior formulae doing nothing spectacular, the leap forward had been massive.

Not just on a professional and personal level - the mental development over recent months had made a world of difference to his performance - but also in publicity back home. Granted, it isn't hard to gain publicity on an island with fewer than 10,000 naturalised citizens, but until this point, Reni had largely not been taken as a serious sportsperson. He wasn't a competitor, just a guy who was a little different in the way he got his kicks. But now, opinion of him was changing. Reni could potentially be a star, after all.

So, coming to Aels, people were tuning in all over Schiavonia. Granted, at this stage, the Schiavone International Broadcasting Network couldn't afford to send a commentary team - Reni's popularity wasn't quite that of football yet - so they bought in the Audioslavian coverage, what with Reni being on their team and being the closest neighbours. But if these performances could be kept up, a Schiavone team could be out there in no time.

But they weren't in Aels. And neither was that spark for Reni.

It was one of those feelings you get that things aren't going your way. After showing off an ability to change the performance of a vehicle in his McPahan trial, that skill seemed to completely desert him. In practice, no matter what changes he suggested to the set-up, the car seemed to get no faster. In qualifying, Reni decided to opt for the initial set-up, and went even further backwards. Starting from 22nd was simply not good enough.

And then the rains came.

And everything seemed to be fine again. The car set up became significantly easier, his careful, considered, technical style became suited to conditions. The conditions were there for a stunning recovery drive... OK, maybe a decent performance, getting into the midfield, perhaps. But that lingering feeling that something wasn't right was still there.

As a result, Reni's start was not particularly spectacular, but steady. For a driver who needs full confidence to perform, to not have it didn't help him. But, despite his youthful naivety, things were going well.

But then, that anticipated moment of impending disaster happened.

Lap 12, and Reni was in the heat of the battle, doing well in keeping it on the road and edging up a couple of places. But then, someone up ahead attempted a move (no idea who, there was too much spray), lost control (understandably in the conditions) and caused quite a collision. Vehicles spun and tumbled everywhere in an enormous fog, and as it started to settle, Reni found himself with another two cars stacked atop one another. It was enough to wipe out four drivers in total, including Reni, and it would soon put paid to Tavela's chances, too.

Whilst the Schiavone way would usually be to get out and help, Reni was simply too startled. Tavela stopped to help the trapped Gunnar Lindstrom, whilst Reni was left pointing and gesturing, trying to figure out what in the multiverse had just happened. Some reports after the event seemed to think that they were angry gestures, but they were from nations not steeped in knowledge of Schiavone culture, and were unfortunately mistaken. Reni was just stunned, bewildered, bemused by what had happened, and thankful that he - and then, from looking around, everyone else was OK.

To say it was a scare was an understatement. But the fact that everyone emerged intact only served to strengthen Reni's belief in the safety of these WGPC cars. They say you always remember your first big crash... whoever they are... and as long as you're not knocked unconscious or something... Look, the point is that this seemed to be something that will affect Reni. But, at least according to an interview after the race, he would be able to take the positives from this. But only his results will be the real evidence of this.

And that will involve improving his feedback in the dry. Quickly.

[Dunpa]

"Well, we're at Eastfield Lodge. What do we do?" Alex said to Mike and his pit crew

To be continued

[Vilita and Turori]

Western Route Circuit, Watersedge, Aels :: iBen Toralmintii sat in the cockpit of Chassis X, staring just in front and beside him at his former teammate, R.L. Cruisin. Sure, Cruisin in his Carvenlo-Franklin machine was faster than Toralmintii in the Dry. But the skies had opened up. Toralmintii had always been better in the Rain.

3. 2. 1. Toralmintii mashed the gas and tried to put the early pressure on Cruisin, riding his tail through turn 1, into the slight right and almost bumping him under breaking in turn 3. Cruisin, however, was able to accelerate off turn 3 and put some distance between himself and the Vilita & Turori Motorsports driver down the back straight and into the square corners.

Toralmintii decided to settle in and ride for a few laps.

As the drivers approached the Start/Finish line to complete the first lap the Carvenlo-Frankling crew of R.L. Cruisin was waving their arms. Cruisin thought nothing of it, they were probably just excited.

As he rounded turn 3 and headed down the back straight, however, he saw something he did not expect to see on the second lap of the race. Spray.

It was the car of Alexander Kohlon. The Works driver had stalled on the start and gotten off to a slow start. Under heavy breaking at turn 5, Kohlon limped around the corners before completely missing Turn 8 and plowing through the dirt back onto the straight. Cruisin quickly closed the gap to the slower machine but his vision was impaired momentarily by the dirt that had been thrust in his path. *boom*

R.L. Cruisin's heard skipped a beat. The car was still rolling, he must have run over a spot of turf.

Around turn 12, Kohlon was just lengths in front of the leader who was beginning to regain vision. Kohlon lost control when he got back in the gas off turn 12 and began to fishtail. Cruisin had to think fast. If he let off the gas, he'd likely get passed by iBen Toralmintii - and he may never get that spot back. Cruisin decided to punch it, turned the wheel to the left and tried to pass Kohlon into Turn 13. *Crunch*

This time, it wasn't Turf. Kohlon, completely unaware that Cruisin was attempting to overtake, swung his Works ride directly into the side of the Carvenlo-Franklin machine. Cruisin put his foot on the gas. *thump****thump**thump*thump*

He let his foot off the gas and cursed inside his helmet. He hugged the yellow line and wiggled his car from side to side. Toralmintii, Nadakei and Convarion had already gone past as Cruisin made the turn onto the long straight. He tried to punch the gas again. *Thwoooop*

He nearly lost the back end of the car. It was still rolling but it wasn't rolling right. He had to pit.

When Cruisin got to the Pits, however, there was no work to be done. The crew gave the car one look and knew their day was done.

With the Carvenlo-Franklin driver out of the way, the experienced iBen Toralmintii, one of the best in the world in the rain, piloted Chassis X to Victory Lane with a dominating performance, crossing the line nearly 40 seconds ahead of second place finisher Vic Convarion of Telaris.

The rain would certainly not damper the celebrations for Toralmintii, well aware that it was the Rain that had given him a name early in his career, and the rain that had set the stage for his first Grand Prix victory for Vilita & Turori Motorsports.

Despite the early retirement of Vilita & Turori's other driver, Abovian phenom Terho Talvela, Toralmintii's victory thrust Vilita & Turori Motorsports into an early 22 point lead in the Constructors Standings thanks to first place results in the opening two events on the schedule.

With the victory, Toralmintii's name was quickly thrust into the upper echelon of Turorian sporting greats and sparked conversations of whether Toralmintii could lay claim to being Turori's all time greatest sports athlete should he be able to bring home the Drivers Championship.

However, the Grand Prix of Aels champion would not entertain such conversations during his post-race media session. "It's Race 2" quipped Toralmintii, "Lets see where we are at when we get to Vilita, then we can talk."

---

[Drawkland]

It was a poor start for Will Madison.

Will had never taken a liking for rain, and when he saw the downpour that morning, he cursed in his hotel room. The track was gonna be slick by the time the race rolled around. When he did get to the track with Jac-Irlo, he was severely disheartened, but he figured that he'd just have to deal with it and hope he didn't fly off the track.

Mannar came up to Will as he was getting into his suit and getting his car ready.
"Kid, don't lose your head. You already know what happens when you're off your groove. That's why you're in 17th in the first place. Don't let the rain screw you over."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Will replied distractedly. He was focusing on one of the crew members making sure the tires were well-in.
"I'm serious. Listen to me. If you don't keep your cool, you won't have a good day. You know this."
Will looked up then, paying attention to the advice Mannar was giving him.
"Alright, coach. I'll handle myself."
"You better," the man replied after a short hesitation.

---

Soon, the cars were all lined up in the starting grid, and the rain had temporarily ceased, but the track was still covered in water, with some puddles on some sections too. Will had steeled his gut and was ready to get back into the rhythm of a race. In his mind, he repeated his self-given directive. 12th place. 12th place. He figured if he got into 12th by the 10th or 20th lap he'd be in a fine position to get into points zone. And that's just what he did. In the first turn, he immediately jammed out in front of Oliver Bliss, forcing him to slow and Will to get ahead.

In just 10 short laps, he achieved his goal of 12th place. Around lap 2 and 3 he heard some warnings sent to Jac-Irlo on the team radio about some sketchiness up towards the front, but Will never caught any flak from it, besides having to go around a couple racers. As he shot down the straightaway into lap 11, he looked in his rear mirrors. Out of the mist shot the unmistakable likeness of Chassis Y and Terho Tavela himself. Will cursed mentally and picked up the pace a little bit going into turn 1. He had expected the Abovian driver to get close, but never to outright make it all the way to be a threat to him. He spent the next lap staying firmly in Tavela's way, while keeping the gap between 12th and 11th close.

In lap 12, something happened. Will couldn't tell, but behind him there was a cloud of mist and the sound of cars ... not doing what they're supposed to. The screeching and splashing of something could definitely be heard. Tavela didn't shoot out of the mist like Will expected, and so he shrugged it off and kept driving. He heard from the radio that there was a 5-car scuffle, and Tavela was the only one that got out still driving. Lap 14, the radio came in to say that Tavela was out of the race. Will held some smug satisfaction and continued driving.

By lap 30 he'd made more ground, going from 12th to 9th, trailing behind Alec Lund of McPahan. The Audioslavian was crafty, though, effectively keeping Will from going any further. In lap 34, he was given a radio order, "Careful around turn 13. We've heard Makeo Oket has had some trouble there," and that was it. Will shrugged, as Oket was a bit behind him at that point and he'd already gotten over 13 by that point. But come lap 35, he was singing a different tune.

As Lund went over turn 13, Will followed, a few seconds behind. As he went over the turn, he suddenly felt a strange feeling from his car. It was then he realized that he was hydroplaning on the track. A brief second of panic overcame him. He hadn't hydroplaned in years and it was taking him a second to try and get his bearings. He tried to steer, but it was to no avail. To seal the deal, his car went over a bit of oil slick on the track, and when he did regain control, the car just drifted right into the barrier of the straightaway. He cursed for the 3rd time that race, and examined the damage. He was safely out of the way of the track, but he was stuck in a patch of grass, which was now more resembling a mud field. To make matters worse, his right front wing was bent and there was a dent in the right side of the car.

Will tried to escape the clutches of the mud field, but his tires were effectively useless against the viscous mess. Eventually he was towed out under a yellow flag and got back into the pits. He could've probably gone back out, but the damage to the right side of the car would be a challenge and it'd be useless to waste a set of tires on it. So there was Will, out on his second race.

At least Jac is doing good for himself, Will thought to himself. It was lap 42 by then, and Jac was doing very well in 2nd, trailing iBen Torallmintii, who was absolutely thriving in the rain. No sooner did the thought run through Will's mind then suddenly all of the crew for Jac shot up as they heard news. Jac was out of the race; something had gone wrong. Will was in shellshock for a moment before he recovered and then crouched down, hands on his face. Fornax was done for, today.

---

"I blame the chief. They broke your concentration by telling you about turn 13," Mannar attempted to console Will.
"It's still my fault for screwing it up," Will responded dejectedly. The total fail of a turnout for Fornax had put a huge damper on his spirits.
"I'd go as far to say that it's the puddle's fault," a random crew member called from the other side of the garage. The crew was probing the car, figuring out exactly what they needed to go to reverse the damage.
"That too," Mannar conceded a moment later.
"It's too late now, anyhow," Will replied with a sigh. The day was done.
"Listen," the coach continued, "Go back to Ceni, get some rest, get some practice, and then arrive at Mount Salt ready to win. It's only the second race of the season. Nobody's won yet."
"Except maybe V&T," Will replied as he glanced out the window at the clouds parting. The sun came out over Aels, a little too late.

[Eastfield Lodge]

The Eastfielder Guide to: Grand Prix of the Imperial Commonwealth

The Track
Located: Mount Salt City, Eastfield Lodge
Length: 4,420m
Average elevation: 1,227m above sea level
Elevation change: 78m
- Highest point: Turns 8 and 9
- Lowest point: Pit Lane, corresponding Pit Straight
Pit Lane time (not incl. time in pit box): 23.2 seconds
Average air termperature (April/May): 21 degrees C
Average track temperature: 34 degrees C

Mount Salt Raceway is a relatively new purpose-built circuit, and became the show-piece event for every domestic motorsport calendar. The track is a blend of quite a few high speed, corners and long straights - the kilometre long pit straight is one of the longest in Eastfield Lodge - but there also plenty of slow corners to test the cars and the drivers.

Starting just after the halfway point of the start-finish straight, the drivers sprint the first 400m to the tight right hand first corner - enough to spread the field a little and also an opportunity to make up for lost ground. The corner isn't difficult, but it does need precision in order to carry speed up the hill to the second corner, where the drivers will find a mirror image of the first corner. A short straight before we reach the Turn 3 hairpin, where the prevailing wind can scatter a fine layer of salt, originating from a salt plain near the mountains, over the corner.

Passing through the chicane (Turns 4 and 5), we come to the hardest section of the circuit; a long climb up the hill on a shallow left hander, before taking a sharp left at Turn 7. The combination of the hill and the wall close to the inside of the track results in drivers being more or less blind until the last moment before Turn 7, making for some good action for crowd to watch. The wall on the exit of 7 was added a little later, just to add to the danger.

The track then levels out at its highest point as the drivers take two right handers at Turns 8 and 9, before taking the long right hander at Turn 10 back down the hill and braking hard for turn 11. Little braking needed for Turn 12, and then it's down another hill, reaching the simple Turn 13/14 chicane before the pit entry and the last corner, after which it's a kilometre sprint back to the first corner.

Usually, the weather in the region is pretty dry and sunny, often with a stiff breeze as noted above - that WGPC13's race weekend took place nearly entirely in the wet was a bit of an anomaly. That fine of layer of salt on the track between turn 2 and the end of Sector One will play a factor, as the lack of support races around the weekend means that it will build up again between sessions. Expect some grip issues early on each session.

Note: Where there isn't a gravel pit or a wall indicated, you can assume it's a tarmac run-off for the corners and grass/turf for the straights.
(OOC: Yes, this has been largely plagiarised from the signup thread.)

---

About the Nation

The Imperial Commonwealth is a vast sprawling conglomerate comprising of 20 nations/colonies, centred around Eastfield Lodge. However, the only bit of Eastfield Lodge that exists in this Universe is a small island in the northern Rushmore seas (just north of the square-ish island of Karditan). The island, known as Gateway Island, is a massive transport hub, and houses a portal that enables travel between this dimension/universe, and the bubble universe containing the Imperial Commonwealth.

On this side, the portal opens up in the ocean just south of Lodgertia, the capital of Eastfield Lodge, located about 20 miles out from the coast. Mount Salt City is in the east, but excellent transport links means that it is only a two hour train journey between 2 of the country's 3 biggest cities. The track itself is only fifteen minutes out of the city, and has top notch facilities to house both the teams equipment and also its personnel. As the countries third largest city in population terms, and its biggest in sporting terms (outside of football), there is plenty to see and do in the city, despite the country's quite tight rules (being a Muslim country and all).

Here some important ones:

• Alcohol is illegal. Period. No trying to smuggle any in, you will almost definitely be caught. The Podium Champagne ceremony will have a fizzy juice substitute (OOC: similar to what Bahrain does IRL).
• Smoking is also illegal, as are all common recreational drugs. Not that there's much of a drug culture in the Imperial Commonwealth, but still.
• Public Decency is quite rigidly enforced, with a dress code for men and women. Headscarves aren't compulsory, but you'll get some odd looks from more than a few folks. You might want to keep the romance in public toned down a little, you could be fined if you're perceived to be going too far.
• Homosexuality is technically illegal, but if you keep it private, it'll be very hard to actually charge you.
• There is a nightly curfew [midnight], however this shouldn't apply to any of the teams over the race weekend - official business is always exempt.

Even if you feel your fun is a little restricted by the above, don't worry. You can still enjoy yourself quite a lot, and you can definitely expect anyone on the street to help you if you need it. in the WA census rankings, Eastfield Lodge leads Rushmore in many categories: Safety (18th safest country in the world), Most Compassionate Citizens, best Tourist destination, Nicest Citizens, Best Weather, Best Health, Most Cheerful Citizens and the Most Beautiful Environments. Basically, this is the place to go for a holiday, especially for some R&R.

Any questions, drop me a TG, and I'll add it into this post.

[Ethane]

The Car

The engine, roaring, as I go round and round,
Turning, cursing, as the understeer hits,
I can't make the turn, overrun, go wide,
The chassis, exhausted from the strain, sighs.

No pain, no gain, I shout, as I pull the car back onto the road,
The car, protesting, fighting, not wanting to go,
Travelling, faster, down the long straight,
a tyre gives way, with a loud pop.

'Pit now, pit now' the engineer shouts,
emotionally, I respond, got it, over and out,
I sigh as the car limps back to the pits, another session over,
my position amiss.

Likening the mood to a sobbing little girl,
I sit in the corner, waiting. Waiting.
Waiting for the verdict on the car to come.
Is the car ok, can it drive? Can it race?
Can it fulfil its purpose?

Raw speed, the passion, intensity, crying out.
Moaning for more, the race-track cries out.
Not content enough without that final car,
the tarmac warms, frustrated, stressed.

'Not without me, you don't' I shout,
as me and my car roar out, no fear,
fighting the gremlins.
No technical hitch can stop me, not anyone.

The car revs up its engine, as excited as me,
pleased of the service that it can be.
Straight out the pits, qualify more,
Number one what it is aiming for.

Never alone, always two together,
me and my car, we're best friends forever.
In my dreams, my every bone,
that car wakes me, drives me home.

Now we're done, the race, its starting,
Never is the end, always a new thing,
revving on the line, clearly excited,
4 red lights, lets go, ready to fight it.

Not for anyone else, this win is for me,
my car, my team and my family,
no one can take the spirit away,
driving round and round, never going away.

Then its all over, the car, fed up, dies,
exhausted from the tolls of a long race, it sighs,
on its death bed, as the engine blows,
a new one is needed, its come to a close.

A new day is dawning. Ssh. The car is sleeping.
It needs its rest. Without it, the car splutters and dies.
As soon as its ready, it will spring to life,
but until then. Ssh. Goodnight.

[Ceni]

Vic swaggered back to the hotel, in an excellent mood, while Jac-Irlo and Will Madison staggered back behind the valiant racer, a bit disappointing from both racers in the wet conditions in Aels. Jac-Irlo blamed it on Fornax, the irascible person that he was, claiming that their tires were not good enough at adhering to the wet conditions, while Fornax blamed Jac-Irlo for going too fast in the obviously wet and unsafe conditions, causing him to crash. Probably both were right, but Will tried to step in to resolve the dispute. Fornax couldn't afford to lose cohesion among its team, especially with the team only having four points on the board so far.

Vic, on the other hand, was quite excited about his position in the race. Instead of hurting his chances in the overall standings, the rain had likely enhanced Vic's standings: with all the more aggressive drivers out of the race, Vic had a little bit more room to maneuver around, and his technicality and brightness allowed him to navigate the track with more ease than some of the other racers. All of that resulted in a second place standing for the young Cenian racer. As the youth statistics were not all that accessible, Vic was unsure whether he was the youngest ever to score points, or the youngest to score second, or any of that. It was still a great performance for Telaris, though, moving them into second place, and Vic himself into fourth in the driver's standings.

The two Cenian drivers took the opportunity to have a last drink in Ceni before heading to Eastfield Lodge - the devout Muslim nation banned alcohol. No exceptions. Jac-Irlo had earlier thought of trying to smuggle some in, perhaps a bottle of Cavalier beer, but Owen had convinced him the risks were a lot more than the benefits. Owen had also told Vic and Jac-Irlo what to avoid in Eastfield Lodge: be a bit modest in your dress, be careful about your association with women (you never knew what religious hardliner would spring out of the streets to deliver a Quranic lecture), be careful about expressing your sexuality. Vic was a bit confused about that last bit, but Owen must have known something about Jac-Irlo that he didn't...

The two thus sat down at a bar in New Oxford before their Aria flight to Eastfield Lodge. Jac-Irlo ordered a more exotic rum cocktail, using only the finest Mabaya Maharania rum from Racao of course, while Vic stuck with his usual, root beer. "You think they'll have root beer in Eastfield Lodge, Jac?" asked Vic. "Yeah, they shouldn't be that puritanical... We could also go to Ballast there, they've expanded to Eastfield Lodge, of course using only locally sustainable fish, as always." "At least they enjoy a good fish taco over there." The two avoided being too mocking of another nation's culture, but to say the least, they were a bit miffed about the restrictions on public life, especially coming from Ceni, where the government's involvement in personal life is next to nothing. It would be a bit of a difficult transition from the two different cultures, one not all that modest, the other highly so.

[WGPC]

Mount Salt Raceway, Eastfield Lodge
Friday Practice

*Drivers had 90 minutes to complete up to thirty laps of the track.
*Conditions: Dry

Pos	Car	Name			Team	
1	51	R.L. Crusin		    	1:22.139
2	89	Will Madison		    	1:22.148
3	18	Louis Krindle		    	1:22.150
4	35	Jac-Irlo Val		    	1:22.172
5	77	iBen Toralmintii	    	1:22.222
6	12	Vic Convarion		    	1:22.262
7	46	Reni Sanderson		    	1:22.306
8	7	Ethan Ellis		    	1:22.333
9	14	Oliver Bliss		    	1:22.364
10	24	Victoria Gardner	    	1:22.379
11	8	Igne Spupuo		    	1:22.379
12	29	Esteban Guilhermez	    	1:22.406
13	56	Terho Tavela		    	1:22.477
14	10	Lauren Ashburton	    	1:22.517
15	23	Moisés Delgado		    	1:22.529
16	55	Asao Nadakei		    	1:22.541
17	6	Alexander Lund		    	1:22.545
18	42	Alex Dimitrianov	    	1:22.565
19	52	Sayono Souzare		    	1:22.575
20	13	Gunnar Lindstrom	    	1:22.602
21	1	Alexandra Mayari	    	1:22.625
22	17	Oliver Bachmann		    	1:22.652
23	3	Mateo Oket		    	1:22.778
24	21	Alexander Kohlon	    	1:22.806
25	20	Marcus Melton		    	1:22.881

[Aboveland]

Terho rolled into the paddock, furious.

"NO! I WON'T LET THIS HAPPEN!" he sternly stated as he took his helmet off.

"Hey, hey! Calm down, damn it!" said Edvin, trying to sedate his friend.

"No, I won't calm down, Edvin! What the shit did I practice in Aboveland for? I knew these turns like the back of my hand! They were identical to the Abovian roads! The car felt amazing! I didn't try hard back home for nothing!"

Edvin sighed, and began to sweat. He knew Terho: he needed success to reassure himself everything would be fine. One slip up he could take. Two, perhaps. Three, and he'll begin to get frustrated.

"Listen, you fool!" Edvin yelled, grasping his head between his hands. "You were 3 tenths of a second behind first place, okay? That's perfect! It's not qualifying! You're not starting 13th on the grid! Good grief! If you keep this up, you'll make it worse, and you know what happens when you get frustrated. You fuck up way too much. Take a deep breath and chill your shit, please."

"Fine, fine, you're right. You are right."

"See? You're doing fine now."

Terho let out a grunt. He didn't like it when he tried and failed, and he despised failing more than twice in a row. He laid back on the nose of his mended Chassis Y and thought of other times he'd failed repeatedly and come back from his troubles. He remembered the Nordic Rally Championship, how he'd started the season so badly and ended up winning. He thought of Birchard Rurns, who'd won the World Rally League after an abysmal start to the season. That'll do me good, he thought. Clearing his head.

He sat down on the floor, crossed his legs, and prayed to God. He asked Him to give him the wisdom and power to calm down, and start out fresh. He was strongly devout, but open to other cultures.

After a while of meditation and praying, he stood up, stretched, and had a cup of coffee. All right now, he thought, I'm calm. I fell down, and now I'm gonna get back up. I've got bruises on my knees and cuts on my hands, but if I can keep my cool they'll heal in no time.

Terho walked back to Chassis Y and kissed it. He loved his car, and loved what he'd achieved thus far in the WGPC. Sure, a retirement and a bad qualifying session had brought him down last race, but now it was time for something new. He remembered his practice sessions in the military compound, how he'd felt at ease with the surface, the car, and the turns. At that moment, something clicked in his mind. What if he emulated that session and that hypercar in Chassis Y? Energetic, motivated and focused, he headed to his paddock and stared at his machine for a good while, pondering how he'd modify the car to make it feel just like he wanted to. He'd take a fast outlap tomorrow, to feel his car. If it was not at all like his Abovian practice vehicle, he'd return to the paddock to get it modified. He was sure his first setup wouldn't be too far from the hypercar, and he'd stick to his second amendment.

And so it was settled. Mind cleared and body readied, he was ready to tackle qualifying. He'd limit himself to two setup alterations, which he'd be absolutely sure would be enough, and then attempt to get pole position. He'd know his limits, know his weaknesses, and embrace his strengths. And now, every time he thought of tomorrow, he thought of his practice sessions, how he'd gone around the corners as confident as he'd ever been. He knew that, deep inside, he had no more weaknesses. Hairpins, bring it on, he muttered.

[Drawkland]

Whatever bad mood had held over from Aels wasn't present with Will Madison the day of practice at Mount Salt Raceway in Eastfield Lodge.

He went off to have a fine practice run, having the second fastest lap on the course compared to everyone else, and missed out on first by less than a single hundredth of a second. Not only that, but Jac-Irlo was not too far behind time-wise either. This bode well for Fornax as a whole, but then again, so did the last couple weekends.

---

Will was in his hotel room in Eastfield Lodge, reading over the info doc he was given on Eastfield customs, so that he didn't run into any trouble. To him it didn't seem like a problem, he wasn't a huge drinker anyway, mostly. He didn't do any drugs, mainly because he never found reason to. All the others he wasn't exempt from implied he had any romantic involvement with anyone, period. Which he didn't.

Presently, his cell phone rang and he picked it up off the nightstand. The screen read "FLANTAR," and so Will grudgingly picked it up. He hadn't taken a liking to the DISC manager. Nor did anyone else he knew.
"Hello?" Will answered curtly.
"Yes, hello, this is Flantar," the man on the other side of the phone answered. There was a strange edge to his voice, Will noted.
"Hello there. I trust everything's going well back home?" Will said blandly, hoping he'd get to the point and end the call.
"Ah, splendidly, mostly. Not really for you in the press, however," Flantar replied coldly.
"I take it nobody was really excited about my loss, huh?" Will replied dryly. He knew what this call was going to be about now.
"Precisely. Luckily for you, it didn't hit front page for the DNSN. That would've been horrid." The implied sarcasm was obvious.
"That would imply that there's nothing worth reporting. It is Kickerball season, is it not?" Will sighed. This wasn't going anywhere.
"That doesn't matter!" Flantar cut back, "I thought you would be the best choice to represent Drawkland in this competition. I'm having second thoughts!"
"I don't know how much racing you do," Will spat, "But it isn't a piece of cake. It's complicated, and almost every other racer out there is the best from their nations to. Need I remind you that the last time I did a full season of Ground Formula was 5 years ago? I'm sure you know from your advanced stat data bullshit."
Flantar seemed taken aback by the outburst. He obviously didn't expect any retribution.
"If you continue like this," he said slowly after a moment of thought on how to respond, "I will have no choice but to remove your DISC endorsement."
"Big effing whoop," Will rolled his eyes, even though it was a phone call, "I'm contracted to Fornax now. As long as they deem me worthy of staying on the team, you can't do jack shit to me."
Again Flantar seemed to stumble on his words. His carefully-thought out veiled threats were no use, as Will wasn't following whatever expected script Flantar had formulated.
"The DNSN and whoever else will report whatever the hell they want to report," Will continued after a moment, "And it's too late. You'll just have to wait and see what happens now," he finished, and with smug satisfaction, he ended the call with a defiant poke to the screen.

He pondered his actions briefly but decided what he said was mostly true and that he was safe from likely exile, for the moment at least. He considered calling Mannar about it.
"Eh, I'll talk about it in person in the morning," he shrugged, and he got ready to go to bed for the night.

[Barunia]

Henry was under a lot of pressure. Ben said the new car was worse than the old, Gil said it was brilliant. Sayono claimed Makeo's car was broken, the mechanics said the poor finish was Oket's fault. Makeo had lost it in the last race, but then so had half the field. It was difficult conditions with the rain at the Western Route Cicuit, who felt not so much at Watersedge as Underwater. Oket had reported hydroplaning in the crash, not really surprising. Henry had to chalk that one down to the conditions, and he could not find fault with either the car or driver. Sayono had made it to the chequered flag, but it was at a crawl and she finished a lap down.

Henry suspected Ben was annoyed because Lauren had done well. Not having last year's rising star was annoying, but Henry knew that Lauren had never wanted to race for Archer in the first place. Still, she'd been the goose that lays the golden egg, and the loss of this prized possession was making the giants upstairs happy. Henry knew the team needed a win to turn their fortunes around. All he could do was instruct the mechanics to scrutinise every millimetre of the car, and coach the drivers in preparation for Mount Salt.

---
Sayono Souzare was not happy. The Hodoran driver had hoped to pick up a point in Aels, but the rain had stopped any chance of that. The Archer, already not suited to the fast straights, was forced to go slower, and she'd only not been able to make any significant time up through the bends. To make things worse, her personal rival iBen Toralmintii had won the race, and she'd also failed to chase down her uncle, finishing 8 seconds behind Nadakei's Dekijika-Tarogama.

Mount Salt looked like a difficult track for the Archer. Massive amounts of straights, and every turn was sharp, which should test the new Archer car. And its driver. It had been a wet track for Mount Salt last season, although not as bad as today had been. Annoyingly, Sayono had lost it just 3 laps short of the finish, to make it three DNF's in a row. She would not let that happen again.

[Taeshan]

Oliver was rather happy with his practice performance. Top 10 in speed and he very well could end this weekend with a good qualification and maybe some points in the race. He was starting to get the hang of the car, and the Mount Salt Raceway here in Eastfield Lodge was really the best for his team, and for his driving style. It also helped that this was the home track of his team, so really it was not surprising overall that they were doing well. Perhaps the most important note was that not only was Oliver doing well, but Louis Krindle pulled a podium finish in the practice effort.

Now that said Oliver was finding the people, and practices of his teams nation to be rather...abstract. No drinking was really getting to him. He had been assured that his late night activities, usually taking his girlfriend out to the bar, were not going to be affected by the late night curfew, but it hadn't stopped the locals from criticizing him all they could. Even wondering why his girlfriend refused to actually wear the local garb...But it didn't matter, he wasn't drinking anything more than orange juice, considering what he thought was a local bar was really just a pizza place. And man was that pizza good.

But beyond that Oliver was really working out in his mind how he should best attack the track. It was important that he kept in the right grooves, and he had for the most part, but he needed to do well here. If he didn't start doing well, if he didn't start getting points Fadron Pizza was threatening to lessen their funding. Less funding meant not racing as well, and eventually could see him out of a job. Though sure he was signed for the year with MSA-Sinval he knew that in the end it was just one season. He was in for the long run, and if he couldn't produce now, when would he?

[Aboveland]

"Morning Edvin!" mumbled Terho through his toast. It was early in the morning, ahead of the qualifying session, and Terho was cool as a cucumber. After his rather disappointing practice run, he almost broke down emotionally and lost control. However, with some wise thinking, he was able to calm down, reevaluate his position and his situation, and start over again. When he woke up he put some coffee in the percolator and drenched himself in a steaming shower, to relax him and make him feel like he'd make better decisions, unwound after a steam bath. It was as good as he could do in modest Eastfield Lounge.

His sunrise verdict was as follows: at the paddock he'd review his times and telemetry readings from the practice sessions, and modify his setup and mindset according to it and to how his practice car had felt. To make the most of his time, he'd take an outlap to make sure the setup was good enough, return if it wasn't, and set off with his final setup. He was ready for whatever the track had to throw at him.

[Ceni]

It was a very successful practice from the point of view of Fornax - Will had placed second in the practice, and Jac-Irlo fourth. The other Cenian racer, Vic Convarion, had done almost as well, landing in sixth place. Everyone knew full well what the intent of the practice was, though: to get a feel for the track and how the cars performed on the track. However, it had later been shown that the practice had almost no bearing on the original race as a whole; in the practices where Fornax had done well, it had totally failed in the real races, with at least one Did Not Finish ingloriously attached to one of Fornax's competitors. Overall, it had been a fairly slow start to the season - only four points from Will Madison. Jac-Irlo, meanwhile, was apparently having a hard time keeping his car running, for he had not finished in both races he competed in. It was a bit disappointing, to be honest.

After the practice, Jac-Irlo and Vic went to the nearest Ballast location. They were both glad for the location in Eastfield Lodge - it was sort of a taste of home, and Ballast was good for the environment, too, only fishing for the lesser appreciated, least consumed species, working with local fishermen, and overall, acting very sustainably. While their menu was a bit constrained by the halal dietary restrictions of Eastfield Lodge (i.e. no lobster, crabs, or oysters) and the general healthiness of the population (for example, not as much fried fish on the menu), that was one of the good things about Ballast - their menu was different in every location so as to work around local desires, specialties, favorites, and available fish.

Root beer was of course available at the location - also appreciated by Jac-Irlo and Vic. Jac-Irlo had some of their fish tacos, while Vic, trying to eat a bit more healthily, had a lighter fish burrito. The two dug in with gusto to their fish meal as the savory fish, with Ballast's own special sauce augmenting the flavor. They were really glad to travel to Eastfield Lodge, in fact - the tourist paradise had way more to offer than the two had originally believed, and once they had actually experienced the location, they didn't feel like the restrictions were so strict after all. They actually enjoyed the architecture, and the Orion hotel they were staying at was very comfortable - fit for a king, Jac-Irlo had proclaimed.

After the two had finished, they invited Will to walk with them around the city, and then perhaps by the lakeshore. As they were walking to the hotel from Ballast to get Will, the two Cenian racers talked about their hopes and wishes for the entire racing season and about Eastfield Lodge. "The citizens here really are compassionate," remarked Vic. "I thought that was just a tourism brochure fallacy designed to get people to come here." "It really is a very nice place, Eastfield Lodge. It is a very enjoyable experience to come here, see the architecture, and walk by the lakes." He took a deep breath. "I really do like walking here, it's a great place to forget whatever's on your mind. And the landscape... it's beautiful." "True that," replied Vic. "You think you will do good on this upcoming race?" "There are some good things working for me here, some working against me. And those are almost opposite for you." "How so?" "The one kilometer straight away - a perfect opportunity for me to accelerate and overtake some of the other racers. The bad news? The curves and turns, which can be pretty sharp at times." "I think you will do fine." "I hope so, too, but you may be the one to carry the banner of Cenian racing. After all, you did come in second at Aels..." "True again. But I don't really want to know what kind of party Owen will throw for me when we get back. I'd really love to enjoy this landscape..."

[Ethane]

Was a Dream

Letting yourself go is no easy feat
when it comes to racing,
you always get the feeling
that you're chasing,
not placing,
the leaders are hastening
their pace. You can't catch them.

You get the feeling
that you're dreaming of ever catching
those out in front.
You remember from your childhood
all those toy cars you used to drive around,
racing each other round the garage,
parking at the top. Car washes. Touring events. Buses.

You remember the dreams. Oh the dreams.
They used to come, you used to imagine yourself
racing around in these cars,
fast,
but no, nothing like now,
you can't as, you dreamt, plough
through the field, take the win.

Power on the pedal is just a cycle,
I can never win, it never comes,
just in my dreams, my far far-fetched dreams, out of reach,
only accessible in my sleep,
people think I'm a creep,
but it is my passion consuming me.

I wish I could race, I can pretend all I want,
but never can I ever be out in front.

---

A Pet

The noise. They surround me like a swarm of bees,
they are as annoying as an infection of fleas,
I beg, ''leave me alone please'',
but a tool to make money is all they see.

They don't see me as a person, none of them do,
they just use us to make money, its too true.
They swarm us like locusts, through private life too,
I need some peace and rest but no longer. I'll never be free.

I'll never be alone, never see the light of day,
as I get stronger, more and more will enter the fray,
All they want me to do is to continue to say
rehearsed line after rehearsed line, it fills them with glee.

But silence. A fleeting moment, peace, before hell,
All you need to hear is that oncoming buzz to know to yell,
its time for you to yell,
as the continuous cycle continues, as you go live on tv.

Not to say I wasn't expecting this, I was,
But that doesn't mean that it should happen, because
We do need peace, a life, some time to rest and ponder our loss,
I can't even sit peacefully by a tree.

And it begins, the endless cycle of racing life,
driving, answering questions, no rest, it fills me with strife,
On the tv, your mother so proud of you, your answers concise,
she doesn't realise the crys I make, ''I just want a bath, some time alone'' I always plea.

But never. Not in this life, no, those drives, it is all you get.
When you start racing, all you do is provide the media with a pet.

[WGPC]

Saturday Qualifying

ROUND ONE

* Drivers have 45 minutes to record up to six flying laps.
* Fastest lap is recorded
* Top ten drivers move to round two of qualifying
* Remaining 15 drivers are eliminated

1	89	Will Madison		Fornax Racing			1:22.128
2	8	Igne Spupuo		Telaris Racing			1:22.225
3	18	Louis Krindle		MSA-SinVal			1:22.279
4	77	iBen Toralmintii	VTM				1:22.286
5	35	Jac-Irlo Val		Fornax Racing			1:22.292
6	14	Oliver Bliss		MSA-Sinval			1:22.458
7	12	Vic Convarion		Telaris Racing			1:22.469
8	46	Reni Sanderson		McPahan Racing			1:22.489
9	1	Alexandra Mayari	SFeG				1:22.569
10	6	Alexander Lund		McPahan Racing			1:22.574
11	52	Sayono Souzare		Archer Motorsports		1:22.592
12	21	Alexander Kohlon	WGPC Motorworks			1:22.600
13	13	Gunnar Lindstrom	WGPC Motorworks			1:22.653
14	3	Mateo Oket		Archer Motorsports		1:22.682
15	51	R.L. Crusin		Carvenlo-Franklin Racing	1:22.729
16	29	Esteban Guilhermez	Cygnus ATR			1:22.788
17	56	Terho Talvela		VTM				1:22.938
18	20	Marcus Melton		WGPC Motorworks			1:23.070
19	24	Victoria Gardner	SFeG				1:23.220
20	7	Ethan Ellis		Carvenlo-Franklin Racing	1:23.231
21	23	Moisés Delgado		Cygnus ATR			1:23.292
22	42	Alex Dimitrianov	MRT				1:23.687
23	17	Oliver Bachmann		MRT				1:24.679
24	55	Asao Nadakei		ENSADRINK GP			1:24.683
25	10	Lauren Ashburton	ENSADRINK GP			1:24.746

ROUND TWO

* Top ten drivers are given 30 minutes to record up to four flying laps
* Fastest lap of this period is recorded

1	18	Louis Krindle		MSA-SinVal			1:21.954		
2	8	Igne Spupuo		Telaris Racing			1:21.997		
3	77	iBen Toralmintii	VTM				1:22.001		
4	46	Reni Sanderson		McPahan Racing			1:22.131		
5	89	Will Madison		Fornax Racing			1:22.156		
6	1	Alexandra Mayari	SFeG				1:22.443		
7	6	Alexander Lund		McPahan Racing			1:22.742		
8	35	Jac-Irlo Val		Fornax Racing			1:25.391		
9	14	Oliver Bliss		MSA-Sinval			1:27.212		
10	12	Vic Convarion		Telaris Racing			1:33.563

FINAL GRID

* Lowest finishing WGPC Motorworks driver is removed from starting grid
* Drivers eliminated in round one of qualifying line up in the order in which they finished in that session.

1 18 Louis Krindle           
 2  8 Igne Spupuo             
 3 77 iBen Toralmintii        
 4 46 Reni Sanderson          
 5 89 Will Madison            
 6  1 Alexandra Mayari        
 7  6 Alexander Lund          
 8 35 Jac-Irlo Val            
 9 14 Oliver Bliss            
10 12 Vic Convarion           
11 52 Sayono Souzare          
12 21 Alexander Kohlon        
13 13 Gunnar Lindstrom        
14  3 Mateo Oket              
15 51 R.L. Crusin             
16 29 Esteban Guilhermez      
17 56 Terho Talvela           
18 20 Marcus Melton       
18 24 Victoria Gardner        
19  7 Ethan Ellis             
20 23 Moisés Delgado          
21 42 Alex Dimitrianov        
22 17 Oliver Bachmann         
23 55 Asao Nadakei            
24 10 Lauren Ashburton    

Starting Grid

[Drawkland]

"Yes!" Will shouted as he read the results from the first round of qualifying. He was feeling completely ecstatic over the fact that he'd just gotten first out of all the other racers, and by almost an entire tenth of a second. Not only that, but Jac-Irlo Val was under two tenths behind Will, taking the 5th spot. This was the first time Will had ever qualified for the second round of qualification, and the first time both Fornax racers had made it as well. It was certainly an incredible feat, and bode well for the race.

---

Will hadn't gone any faster in the second round. In fact, he'd gone a bit slower.
"Hey, I'm not used to doing a second round," he admitted to Mannar and Jac-Irlo, who were standing with him.
"Well at least you'll have experience for next time," Mannar shrugged, "All things considered, it's not much of a problem. You're in 5th to start, and Jac is 8th. As long as you keep your bearings, and it doesn't rain, you're both in a very good position to get a huge amount of points. There are a few other contenders team-wise in the top 10, but the only one in a real position to hurt us is McPahan. Reni Sandwiches and Alex Lunch are in front of both of you both to start, respectively. Other than them, there's a couple from MSA and Telaris behind y'all, but if you get up high in the rankings you won't have to worry about them," the coach explained to the both of them.
"iBen Toralmintii is 2 in front of me to start. He'll definitely be hard to catch and if he gets too much of a gap he'll be impossible to pass," Will noted.
"You'll be on the inside of Sandwiches going into Turn 1," Mannar said, consulting a picture of the starting grid, "If you push up as far as you can onto Tortellini's back, you can wedge in front of Sandwiches and start off right on Tortellini's tail. Superpoo will be in front of him, assuming nothing else changes, and Cringele in front of him. You'll be in a very decent position to chase out the lead. If anything, you could just stick right with Tortellini as he cruises past those others." Will hoped Jac-Irlo didn't find the nicknaming of the other racers exceptionally weird, but he didn't mention it.
"That sounds great. Hopefully Jac can catch up quick, and we can ride together through the course to maximize point gain and to help keep racers from passing us," Will suggested, giving a nod to the Cenian.
"Speaking of which," Mannar turned to the Cenian, "Jac-Irlo, you need to go around the edge and attack at Lunge and Mayonnaise. Both of those Alexes will be tough to get around, but if you manage it, you'll be nearly home free to catch up to Will, whether or not he's passed Sandwiches in the beginning, or at all. If and when you two get together, you need to get in line, close as you can manage without crashing. Another good idea is for one of you to take the inside and the other the outside, to prevent anyone passing, or at least make it exceptionally difficult. As long as you don't crash into each other, it will be very effective. We need to take this opportunity and milk it for all it's worth, because it may not happen this well again," he turned to address both racers.
Will nodded as he listened and he chimed in at the end, "If we get into the top two spots we'll be in the best shape, for sure. That strategy will work the best then because we don't have to worry as much about going fast to catch up to someone."
"Exactly. At any rate, the most important goal is to catch up to each other and then get as far as you can together. That'll be the best for both of you, and the team."
"Let's do it then!" Will said excitedly. This race was shaping up to be awesome.

[Deiorus]

A talk pre-qualifying

Spupuo seemed to be in a different state of mood since he got into a crash in probably one of the most important events for him, one badly done overtake put two other drivers in the mess in lap 12. While the damage was only found in the front wing, and everyone was found in equal fault and no injuries were found on all drivers, he still found himself on the downswing

Nothotad took him to a one-on-one discussion after a fairly slumped performance in the practice “I can clearly see that last race left a mark on you but, you have to move on fast as possible to get back on the upside! Besides, you got out of the last crash without MUCH scratches or any penalties, and the likely reason you didn't get any penalties is that Deiorus royalty probably put in the good word and cash for you to the WGPC, in other words, you likely wont go to the butchers, SO WHAT'S IS WORRYING YOU?”

Spupuo in a dismayed voice “Just like the execution, dying. I don't think I have ever been close to death like crash in Aels, I only got out with bruises but there was so much that could go wrong in that mess of metal, Sure, the engineers and the regulations make the sport safe but I never realized it was this dangerous up until now, I just have trouble putting it all on the line, I just can't shake the fear off.”

Nothotad responded in a coarse manner “So? It's not like horse racing was completely safe! Different risks, same results. I don't think it's death that scares you, can't be, there must be something else” and quickly went into a joking manner “Besides, I don't know how much a traveling psychotherapist but it'd be a lot! Just keep working on your Spanish, that will sure get your mind off whatever is actually bothering you”

Spupuo with a half-smile “Yeah, Spanish, It was hard enough learning English and now I have to learn Spanish? Why isn't there more agglutinative languages that use gronks, hisses and clicks for pronunciation like Deiorii? At least I can pronounce 'Donde esta la biblioteca'! I'll try to walk whatever happened last week off, or think it off.”

[Nekoni]

It was a very weird time in the SFeG garage. Yes, they weren't having the start to the season that they wanted. Currently residing fifth in the constructors, with only one driver in the Top 10, one could be forgiven for thinking this was a disastrous start for the reigning champions of both tables. However, this was a much better start than last season, which of course everyone wanted to forget. Both drivers had points on the board, and although Alexandra Mayari could only manage sixth from a turbulent start at Aels, it was better than her 15ths-and-punches-to-the-mouth from last time. What's more, they were going to a familiar place for round 3, Victoria Gardner's home of Eastfield Lodge for another trip to Mount Salt Raceway.

As expected, a few jokes about Fatali not being welcome in a dry country went about the garage the night before practice. It was nice for Alex, the knowledge that he had been dealt with, and there was no way that he would be able to get inside her head until the court precedings were dealt with. Christian wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything and risk getting thrown in prison, surely? Everyone in the garage knew of what he'd done (it being the main story on the back pages of all the newspapers at home), and everybody was supportive of her. Not that she needed the reassurance much, the race track was a great stress relief when it wanted to be.

---

Unfortunately for her, the practice session was a disaster. The fourth lap out, she cut the kerb of turn 2 a little too much, and the resultant jolt from the grass sent her wide, into the track wall, right front wheel first. This sent the car into a spin, and from later examination in the pit, the suspension at the front of the car had been damaged by the impact. She wouldn't be able to continue today.

Minna was angry. "Look, I know about the whole Fatali thing shaking you off, but that, that was dumb. You're really lucky that it happened now, that's the only thing we can take from this. I don't want to do the bollocking again, I hate it as much as you all do, and I REALLY don't want it to look like I'm going to become Fatali, but...holy shit, if you keep pulling things like that, it's going to be MUCH more difficult for me to not."

And with that, Alexandra tried to make herself useful, helping out with fixing the suspension that she broke. It had been a while since she picked up a spanner, but it was like riding a bike, it wasn't something she forgot. Whilst Victoria was outside, working the local audience, she was getting her hands dirty, and at the end, the car was fixed. "That was great work, Alex," It seemed that she was back in Patrice's good books. "Now if you could not break the car next time, you'd be set!" he said with a wry smile.

---

Morning rose on the Saturday as ever, and the weather was predicted to be a dry, warm day, just perfect for racing. This suited Alex completely, and she really needed to qualify well to get the weekend back on track. Knocking back an isotonic energy drink in the paddock, the team met for the pre-qualifying meeting. The tone was a little more serious, after her early exit yesterday, the qualifying session really mattered today, and the new qualifying rules meant the drivers had to hit the ground running more than ever.

Out on the track, Alex took a couple extra laps to get back into the flow of the track that she missed out on yesterday. Unfortunately, this left her with only three laps to get down a decent time, as her warm-up left her 15th.

"Going for it now, give me a traffic update."

"Four cars 5-10 ahead of you, nothing to talk about back. You should be clear to do your three."

Alex fired the car through the opening turns, apex-by-apex. So far, so good, she thought, as the car blasted up the straight and up the hill to turn 7.

"0.6 up in that section alone, you've got this in the bag."

The rest of the track was fairly simple to learn, with nothing but right angles from here on out. She went wide to take the double right of 8/9, and charged down the hill. The final section started off difficult, with the added speed from the downhill blast requiring heavier braking. From there, it got progressively simpler, flattening, then descending again through the end chicane onto the pit-straight, a low-curbed right-left-right complex. She slowed down for the first turn, then gradually upped the pace through the second, then hit the foot to the floor to tackle turn 15. Thundering down the main straight, the pit radio confirmed what she wanted to hear.

"1.22'569, you'll be safe this time round." Even a late surge by some of the straggling drivers didn't kick her out and she was able to squeeze in in ninth. "As long as you're in the ten, where you come don't matter. This is the session that you throw down. Sadly you'll be doing that alone, Vicky came a cropper and she's way down in 19th. Patrice'll have a word."

Part two came, and somehow, Alex couldn't seem to improve on her time. Upon her next lap, she was able to find a slightly faster line through the blind turn 7, and was able to convert that into precious tenths of a second.

"You're nearly there, keep it going!" yelled the radio as Alex entered the final chicane with a shot at beating 1'22. If she could only navigate the final turns..."Shit!"

Alex took turn 13 far too quickly, and had to brake sharply to avoid crashing out the final two turns. Her car simply didn't have the speed it should have had on the straight. "I was so close, AUGH! Please tell me I didn't lose out too much."

"You got .443. It's not worth doing the next lap, you ain't got the speed and you have very little time left. Pull in, we'll work on it on the day. Sorry, Alex."

Alex drove into the pit in a huff, extremely peeved with herself for squandering a shot at pole. "I was THIS close, and I ballsed it up. I just lost five places in one turn." She turned to Patrice. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry I messed it up today."

"It's OK, Alex. You managed to get into sixth, which isn't the worst place you could be. You improved from your first session, which is always good. You're driving better than you were in Hodori, that's good too. You CAN do this."

"I know, but I tried so hard to get pole and I failed at the last moment. I was THERE. And then I wasn't. And it's MY fault."

"LOOK, ALEX." Patrice looked her dead in the eye. "I get that. I get that you gave it a shot and it didn't come off. But you're a champion. You can overturn a sixth. You've fixed worse situations than this. Yes, you could have gotten pole today, but you didn't. This is the hand you've got to play with, and no amount of self-flagellating will change that. OK? Just focus on the race, and make sure you fix your mistake on the track, yeah?"

Alex took a long, deep breath. "OK, I understand."

"You're cranky because you can't smoke here, aren't you?"

"How did you know?"

"You and me both, Alex. You and me both."

---

Alex sat in her trailer, browsing through the usual motorsport news on her tablet, regularly fiddling with her fingers, as if they were just getting used to not holding a cigarette. She had come to terms with the fact that tomorrow's race would be harder than it should have been, but she could live with it. After all, a champion should have no problems beating five drivers off the line. Fortunately, a good performance tomorrow would put them right back into the championship race. The VTM team were leading, but they were inconsistent, with both drivers taking one race win and a retirement each, leaving both on 25 points. Much easier to turn around than the start of last year's season, and yet she and the team managed to overcome that.

This was the best start to a season that she had, despite the expectation of a championship-defending team. All she needed to do was get a good night's sleep and hope she could get a good start off the line tomorrow.

[Aboveland]

Terho let out a grunt across the finish line in Eastfield Lodge. His emulating setup gamble hadn't paid off. His times on Friday could have landed him a top 10 grid position, but instead he was at the end of the pack again, in 17th. Obviously, it hurt to be so far down after such a great win in the first race. It was especially troubling to him that Spupo, a jockey, had gotten 2nd, and that Will Madison had done so well. Still, he wouldn't let his emotions get the best of him. After all, he was still a rookie, and this particular track was not his forte.

Rolling into the paddock, Edvin cautiously approached Terho like a bomb squad unit touches a mysterious package.

"It's okay," Edvin sputtered.
"Don't worry, I won't explode," answered Terho to his careful comment. "It's been a crap session, but no matter. We're not last at least."
"I guess you got that going for you."
Will Madison rolled into the paddock a few meters away and yelped his delight. Terho frowned and hid his feelings.
"So, how do you plan on getting back up the ranks?" asked the rallying star's co-driver.
"First and foremost, I'll take it easy emotionally. Sure, this sucks, but I have to keep trudging on. Second, I'll revert to the practice setup. It was faster and grippier all round. Most importantly, I'll try to finish the race in the points. As long as I can take 10th, I won't keep pushing. I'll go fast, but try to conserve what I have. I need at least one point to stay put."
"You know seven places is quite a lot, right?"
"Yeah, but at least the race is long. I really have to stay out of trouble this time. I'll give myself and the others some space. Furthermore, if I can't get into the top 10, I'll at least try to finish higher than 17th."
"Okay then, so you're taking it easy?"
"Yep. Besides, there's only so much I can do on this damn track. I'm a man of spontaneous flicking, of no grip racing. These tight, technical, asphalt turns really don't suit me."
"Try to powerslide like you did pre-season!"
"Hell no. Not here at least. Maybe someday, when the track is more open and I've got little to lose."

After his strategic talk with his partner in crime, Terho headed to congratulate iBen, Igne and Louis, and tried to sympathize with R.L. Cruisin. With this particular driver, however, he developed a plan. Since both he and himself were starting on the outside line, they'd try to overtake Guilhermez and Oket on the outside of turn one, Terho trailing the Vilitian (or Turorian, it had never been clear to him [i.e. me]). Once they were both clear and into the top 15, they'd begin their offensive driving, the Abovian taking it slightly calmer and less risky, all the while trying to overtake. He wasn't sure Cruisin would stick to the plan, or even remember it, but he sure hoped so.

Back in the V+T paddock, he took a cup of coffee, sipped on it, and relaxed on one of the futons. Tough cheese, he thought. Time to melt it.

[Dunpa]

"Well, this time, let's wait for our teammates." Alex said to his comrades.
After Practice
"Come on, I got 24th. Man, this track is hard." Alex said to Mike. "Well, practice means practically nothing. Just improve on this track and you could pole." Mike said to Alexander. "OK, I'll wait till tomorrow."
After Qualifications
"12th. I had a chance to go to the secondary round." Alex said to Micheal while in his cockpit. "See Alex, you practiced and you improved. on Mount Salt."
"I'll see you later Mike, I got to think about something" Alex reluctantly told Mike.