World Grand Prix Championship season 17 [RP Thread]

[Vangaziland]

The first shots of the new VM34 chassis showcased the engine warming up inside of a crowded paddock. Engineers in indigo, red and black coveralls hovered around the chassis, which was opened up and connected to a computer. Words like brash or raucous were too subtle to describe the howl of the V8 as it ran through a series of automated revs.

This was a special exhibition day. A limited amount of tickets were even sold for the event, which would consist of little more than a handful of laps. Most of Drosopol Circuit's concession facilities would be closed because of the small crowd. There was still one meatball cart and a beer stand open for business.

Jessica Franssen gave an interview for Vannish Motors Racing's blog as the car was getting warmed up. Even though she was indoors behind several layers of insulation and wall layers, the microphone still picked up a little bit of the engine noise. The producers kind of liked it, as it made things feel more relevant.

"Jessica Franssen. Enough has been said about her accomplishments", said the blogger/journalist. "She needs no introduction, and neither does the indigo and red car of Vannish Motors Racing. That doesn't mean we can't still find out more about both." Vannish Motors had re-signed Jessica Franssen as driver one for season 17.

Jess giggled a little at the broadcaster's cheap joke before speaking. "I'd like to think all of us Vannish Motors drivers have represented the Empire well. Even internationals like Gregori Krupin stepped up well as a proponent of Vannish industry."

The reporter asked her about Gregori. He wanted to know more about how Jess felt about him.

"Our scouts saw good things in Gregori Krupin", Jess continued. "We didn't give him the best car last year. He still helped us reach second in the Constructors'. He's only going to improve this year. He is a trained product of Vannish Motors Racing."

"There are rumors your team is going in a different direction though", said the blogger. "Will this be hard on Mr. Krupin?"

"Nothing is confirmed", Jess replied. "Anyone can still be signed. I give Gregori my personal recommendation, as his co-driver and as a WGP2 principal."

"You're not the only Vangazi that wants to drive with Krupin", said the blogger. "It's been reported Jang Xiaopeng made a request to tem up with Gregori Krupin at Badai Angin."

"The rebranding looks like a sharp marketing move", said Jess. "If they brought Xiao and Gregori, they'd bring two Esportivans to an Esportivan run team. They'd also have two former VMR drivers, for whatever that was worth. People always assume I'll be the Vangazi in the championship hunt", Jess said with a laugh. "I could easily fall back and Mr Jang could be the one with the 'Full Vannish Push' behind it. Krupin plus Jang is a title capable team."

"Xiaopeng did finish in the top 5 last season. This followed up his WGP2 driver and team cups. As a rival driver, he has to worry you."

Jess nodded and flipped her hair back. "Surely. He was into last season's title hunt until the last flag."

The tall blogger loomed over Jessica, lowering the mic almost awkwardly. "Let's change the direction", he said. "We're seeing the return of classic teams and drivers. We have Jai Kalderai and Mirrors Racing, most noteably. What is your take on that?"

"They're great for the sport", Franssen replied. "It'll be good to have another former champion in the battle for more silverware. Mirrors has had some acclaim. I won't lie. Something caught my attention on Mr. Kalderai's bio."

"Oh?" The blogger was intrigued.

"There was a little blurb bio released by his PR team. On it they mentioned how Kalderai drove for 'the best teams', or something like that." Jess had a barely restrained inkling of a smile poking through the corners of her mouth. A single laugh escaped, cut off as if she just lifted off the throttle of a V12. "Maybe all but one of the best teams." The wide reaching black, indigo and red hand of Vannish Motors in different race disciplines was undeniable.

"I'm pretty sure racing in the last summer Olympiad brought new and old faces alike", the blogger replied. "Let's try a hypothetical, Jess. If VMR wasn't an option, where would you race?"

"I'd take my talents to Mattijana", Jess said without hestitating. "I have unfinished business there." Jess spoke of WGPC 14 where she scored more points than any other car in her six race stretch. She pulled not one, but three wins to outscore the menacing black cars.

"Speaking of that, are there any more returning drivers that caught your attention? Anyone else you think might make a splash?" The journalist asked only for Jess to toss the question away with a casual 'nope'. He asked again in a different way, hoping to guide an answer. Jess just shook her head. The journalist finally asked the question in a different way.

"Okay Jess. So every season, we see the result of teams conspiring behind the scenes to pull off a surprise. Which team do you think planned the biggest conspiracy of the offseason?"

Now Jessica's memory suddenly worked. "Oh. Well that would be Tropicorp and the return of iBen T.." The journalist laughed as soon as Jess finished the sentence.

"I'm joking", Jess said with a shady smirk and a glare. "Like I said, I have unfinished business. I'll be glad to square off with him, Kalderai and whichever other yahoos wander onto the tarmac this year."

"Considering all of this talent, how difficult do you think the field is?"

"This might be the most talented field the WGPC has ever seen", Jess said, returning to her serious expression. "Anybody who's a fan of the sport is in for a treat. Teams are in for a long fight, with all this brass in play... But the fans can just enjoy the show. This is what we call 'Showtime'."

The sounds of the engine's revs stopped. That only meant one thing.

It was ready....

As the only car on site that day, Jess was able to pilot the car in a forbidden right turn out of the paddock.. She was taking a shortcut to the finish line by going down pit lane the wrong way. It had been some time since her interview. The engineers had prepared her car perfectly, just the way she liked it. Different for season 17, Jessica's machine sported a golden number 1 on top of the nose. Her helmet was chromed with shiny gold plating. A similarly metallic Vannish flag wrapped around the top-back of her skull. A red chrome visor shielded her eyes from the sun. The logo of her sponsor Van-Bands was taped above the visor in a perfect location for the eyewear company.

After a slow movement to the starting line, Jess rolled to a stop. The engine revved once with enough aggression to shake the front grandstand. She stomped her award-winning foot once again to rev even harder. Vannish engineers were thrilled that the move to the V8 stil provided plenty of aromatic noise. This wasn't a V6 turbo afterall.

The revs became faster and more frequent. A system of lights had been designed for T1 use. They soon began to count down. Jess revved with each one in unison. This was the first time she'd driven on Drosopol circuit since she drove in Vangaziland's league. This is an entirely different continent than the previous Vannish Grand Prix was held. The Empire had finally brought the race to Esportiva proper.

Jess managed a smooth launch that minimized most wheelspin. There was still the faintest white smoke from the rear wheels. The turbocharged V8 howled louder than a banshee's nightmare on the short run into the first turn. The enginers from Nekoni stopped drivers from getting too high speed of a launch by designing the start's proximity to turn 1. Engineers from Nekoni worked with Vannish architects to make Drosopol Circuit a reality.

Drosopol had the sort of sweeping turns that a high downforce car would dig right into. This helped keep Drosopol fast with the right technique. Proper braking to hold the line was still paramount. Visibility might also be lower than normal, as many turns are tight, wrapping affairs.

Jess dug into turn 1 and accelerated out of the midpoint. Her car went from the outside, across the apex and back out on exit. It was a short run to turn 2 and then she fought the wheel in the opposite direction. Franssen had love for this track in her heart. Driving here was like riding a roller coaster, complete with a 230 mph 'drop'.

Cameras were set up to record highlights for the blog. Things slowed down more for turns 3 and 4a especially. She lined up for the set known as Diamond Top. After a little kink, she hit a short straight only to wrap around another turn. The car dug into the winding angle before digging out onto a straight almost identical to the last. There was another winding turn, light braking helping Jess control the angle, before jutting down a third similar straight.

The course was technical in that a driver had to fight these same features over and over throughout each track session. It was still fairly aggressive as well, with balance best tackling the tarmac here.

7 was another wide turn that was basically broken by a straight. It was all still technically part of the same curve. This meant the car was really dug into the maneuver. This wasn't exactly the same as some of more sharper turns on some courses. These turns were flowing, designed for open wheeled cars to pull through with downforce and power.

Drosopol was just getting started. Now Jess hit 'The Back Straight'. It was technically named after a horse racing term, but Jess didn't worry about that. She was focused on shifting properly into speed. Cars could easily pass 185-190 mph here. She wasn't pushing at full race pace, but didn't stop from threading the needle. It was almost too bad tickets weren't sold for the smaller grandstand here. This was just an almost private event for a lucky few fans and company friends.

The car faced a real brake check when it came into the zone before turn 8. This was a slow, tight hairpin. The car popped and grumbled as it rushed to slow down. It idled quietly around the tight turn before roaring back to life. 9 and 10 brought a chicane that was deceptively wide open. This was because turn 11 tossed the car in the opposite direction around a fast, wide sweep. Jess could barely see around that curve as her car dug in. Finally a fairly open stretch was revealed.

Turn 12 formed a fairly quick crest on the inside portion of the track, before spitting straight to 13. Things had to slow down for the tight chicane at 14, but the angle could be taken fast with so little cars on the course. She tapped the brakes, but didn't have to lose all momentum. If there was traffic on race day, she migth have to. But for now, all she saw was open course. It was great practice. She even felt more alive. There was elevation change, climbing to 15 and descending to 16.

Turn 15 was another sweeping turn, but it was a little slower than some of the others. The angle was sharper, though still rounded enough for downforce to pull into. Things slowed down after 16 led to 17. Now the indigo and red car's throttle called out hesitantly as Jess gave careful throttle inputs. She had to power through certain maneuvers while keeping off the throttle as turns approached. Turns 18a and 18b were the slowest on the track. Things started to pick up after that on the eastern edge of the circuit.

The angle of the road changed with a slight kink at the bend. This sped north into the slightly banked turn 20. The track never let up. If this were a race, Jess would have to run out of the turn as fast as she could just to quickly hit a braking zone. It wasn't an immediate transition, keeping cars earnest from passing attempts for a few hundred meters.

There was one last blind, sweeping hairpin. Jess went from the outside, down close to the apex where the car gripped and fought through the turn. This was a curve cars would fight through for a fast exit onto a long straight. She shifted as the car came around to the straight. Cameras were located on the interior of the track, behind the fencing. They caught the artistic angle of the VMR machine as it carved the turn.

Now it was all down to the last stretch. After one last shift, the engine remained at a shrill constant scream. As it passed the grandstand, the VM34 gave off the sterotypical sound most people associate with formula racing. It was the sound of the high speed pass. Jess glanced down for a spit second only to see her speedometer pass 230 mph. She looked up right away to watch the track. This felt so surreal to her. These were the moments she lived for.

WGPC 17 was right around the corner. As her car crossed the finish line, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like once the season started. The last interview was on the back of her mind. There was indeed a lot of talent on the track this year. She didn't just say that to be politically correct.

The WGPC was an ocean. Fans were set to watch from boats as the shark-like drivers fought for two pieces of silverware.

The #1 car growled and popped into a series of downshifts and heavy braking as turn 1 approached. The high speed whine was replaced with the guttural ruckus and then quiet turn. Jess tossed the car around the angle before accelerating to do it all again.

[Newark Aristocracy]

After a few days of no calls from Camden Automobile Racing,Kohan Lee had had enough and decided to call Vannish Motors Racing,seeing if they needed a 2nd Driver.

[Aboveland]

Lintulahti International Circuit
Lintulahti, Aboveland
February 24th
TRÆ Livery Reveal Event

"Thanks!" the journalist says, concluding the interview.

"Thanks!" Terho replies enthusiastically, stumbling over the last syllable and then frowning as the woman walks away. Why thanks? Not now, cold sweats.

He stands in the spotlight alone for a moment, the first time in a couple hours he's had nobody come up to him to ask what his favorite type of sandwich was, all the action and chatter of the buzzing lobby-turned-conference-room spread out around the car to his side. He glances over at the machine, captivated by its heavy shiny paint. The performance hit was well worth it, he considered. The soft glow of the floodlights above him turns into a neatly arranged array of slivers of white-yellow light which flow down its side. He takes a good look at the bodywork, no longer sloppily finished in pure carbon fiber, the nooks and swoops and dives of its design clearly visible. Tantalizingly, he reaches out with his hand to run his fingers down the side intakes, crouches, then moves his arm a little further forward to feel the smooth bargeboards as they drop to meet the floor, forming an arch beginning over the top of the side pods. He turns his head to the other side, looking back at the car towards its rear wing. The rear wheels aren't visible in their entirety, with the winglet before the axle serving as a sort of hood over the top of the tyres to deflect the airflow back toward the rear wing. Moving his gaze slightly upward, the engine cover's specks of Fryst snow shine, their paint mixed in with specks of silver. Again, he looks further to his left, seeing his name and flag on his headrest and wing mirrors, respectively, and finishes at his number. It doesn't quite look like a 56, now that he thinks of it. Maybe a 66, or a 55, or an 86, or an S6...

"Hey, Terho,"

He flinches, startled.

It's Aada.

"Hi," Terho says, standing. For a second, his vision blurs. A little too quick to his feet. "Yeah?" he asks.

"The press is leaving in a few minutes now," she begins, her eyes deep and with a glassy, hopeful gaze. "But the Vilitans and, well, the Abovians too, want to see the cars in action with iBen behind the wheel."

Terho nods.

"I thought we could give our partnership a shot?" Aada says, like a begging kitty, but with an air of professionalism and a sincere façade of seriousness. "You know, to get into the groove a little before the actual tests."

Terho nods again, but begins to smile.

"I'll be taking over from Edvin for today then," she continues. "I'll get the car set up with the guys while you and Edvin have a chat with iBen about... stuff, whatever. Then we'll have both cars out on the track for a few exhibition laps."

Terho smiles a little wider now, the prospect of being reunited on track with iBen enough to muster a giggle deep inside him. He suppresses it to reply calmly.

Aada grins a purposefully toothy grin and gives him a thumbs up before scurrying over to the paddock. Terho, anxiously excited, turns around. There he is, iBen Toralmintii, the one and only, standing tall (enough) in the lobby, in the shadow of the floodlights' deadzone, finishing up an interview with the Turorians. The Abovian taps his foot on the ground while his once mentor wraps up, and once he's free and absently hanging around like he himself had been a few moments earlier, he approaches the veteran with a skip in his step.

"Hey, iBen," Terho says. He turns around. "Wanna give the car a shot? It'll bring back memories, I guarantee it," Terho finishes, almost laughing near the end. Deep inside, an eager excitement stirs. A three-year-younger Terho spools up somewhere within his giddy soul. The fires of his youthful passion return.

[The Sherpa Empire]

TMW corporate HQ, Shigatse, Tibet, sometime before the start of the WGPC season

An assortment of marketing people and a couple of engineers were gathered in a conference room. They were dressed in a mix of business suits and traditional Sherpa attire, except for one token Bengali woman in a sari. There was a tray of refreshments in the middle of the table with chai and samosas.

"All right, looks like everyone is here," one of them said. "Let's talk about this VMR thing, and hopefully I can get Vijay Tripathi and Karma Subedi to stop blowing up my phone."

"I thought we already decided we didn't want to work with Subedi because he won't stop feuding with Kai Qiang, and we sponsored Qiang in NSSCRA."

"We did, but he keeps calling anyway. I don't think he's the sharpest tool in the shed. Anyway, Uti and Avijit, the reason I've brought you into this meeting is because I want you to handle the technical side of things. Anything VMR wants us to set up on the car, I'm going to be sending them your way. One of you speaks English, right?"

"一点点," said Avijit.

Uti giggled and slapped him playfully. "That's not English!"

"Ein bisschen."

Uti laughed harder. A couple of the more up-tight people at the table groaned or face-palmed. "Are you going to take this seriously?"

"I was just joking around," said Avijit. "That doesn't mean we won't do our job. Have you ever given us an assignment and we didn't get it done?"

"Okay, just try to stay focused please. Does one of you speak English?"

"I know some," said Uti. "I think we can figure it out."

"Okay, but you need to be professional about this. They can find other people to work with if we're not on top of our game. Now let's talk about drivers. We've got about five different drivers that want to get into WGPC with us, and... Is there a reason we've been talking to Liuyong Xu and not Kai Qiang? They're both NSSCRA guys and Qiang is a better driver."

"Because Qiang is obsessed with bondage and women's clothes?"

"Okay, but if that's a problem, then why are we sponsoring him in NSSCRA?"

"Good question," said one of the stuffier people at the table. "I told you that was a bad idea."

"NSSCRA and WGPC appeal to different demographics," one of the marketing people explained. "NSSCRA is popular with working class people in the Chinese Territories. Kai Qiang pisses off conservatives, but there are a lot of young Chinese liberals that think he's cool, and a lot of them drive TMWs. Since we started sponsoring NSSCRA, we've had strong sales of the Argonaut and the Phoenix in the Chinese Territories. But WGPC appeals to a more upper class demographic. We should be thinking about the sort of customers that buy Yetis or Qilin. I think Liuyong Xu is palatable to that demographic, but Kai Qiang isn't, and Vijay Tripathi would be much better than either of them. We know Tripathi is interested, and I'm honestly not sure why we're still sitting here talking about this. We already dominate IRACT and have the Sherpa Empire's best NSSCRA driver working for us, and now we have the chance to get possibly the best driver in SIMS to represent us in WGPC. Why are we not jumping on this?"

"I don't know. Do we want Tripathi, then?"

"Yes, we do," said the marketing person.

"We can at least give him something to test drive so he'll stop blowing up my phone..."

[Audioslavia]

Part One: Roger

Six o’clock alarm. Roll over. Hug wife. Roll back. Consider just staying in bed for the rest of recorded time. Gather will. Rise. Shower. Shit. Shave. Clothes. Bag. Out the door. Six thirty, arrive at gym. Cycle. Row. Lift. Shower. Seven. Breakfast. Latte with full-fat milk. A bacon sandwich well earned. Seven thirty. Arrive at office. Unlock doors. Turn on coffee machine. Sit. Breathe.

The window to Roger’s second-floor office at Blunderbus Racing looked out over Schooner’s Way, a long coastal road with dockyards on one side and rows of concrete industrial parks on the other. A far cry from the shiny glass cube that McPahan had made their home down in Crossport, Blunderbus’s headquarters bore more resemblance to a factory. At the front a two-storey concrete building with three offices and a meeting room up top, all with bare brick walls and small windows with wooden frames. The frames were probably painted white about two decades earlier and simply left to flake in the intervening time. Downstairs was home to a small reception desk and four smaller offices. Three of these housed the sales, marketing and accounts teams. The other two were ‘unofficial storage’, meaning any old crap the team didn’t use got bunged in there. Each was empty just now. Nobody else arrived before nine o’clock and, in any case, Blunderbus only needed full time staff during the regular season.

Out behind the office was the factory building. The team’s two racecars sat motionless in the centre. Typically these cars would be in various pieces all over the garage, but they’d been rebuilt specifically for yesterday’s pit drills. Not the pit drill that was used for screwing tyres onto a car or for threatening an underperforming driver, but practice drills for Blunderbus’s pit crew. Last season a part-time crew had been assembled to do the honours during races whenever a Blunderbus car came into the pits (which was much more often than Roger would have liked). A part-time crew would be needed for this season, too, so trials were held to find six able-bodied men who could swap out the old tyres and swap in the new ones as fast as possible. Five of last year’s crew had returned and largely won back their jobs. A number of keen mechanics had tried and failed to keep up. One member of the crew had excelled above the rest. He’d been too good. It wouldn’t have been right to take advantage of the kid’s loyalty by pinning him down to a contract. Roger and Alex had done the right thing, even if the kid had protested at first. Alex had, according to a midnight text, put some sense into him.

Roger poured a coffee and returned to his desk. On his laptop he pulled up the Cathair Herald’s website. Plastered on the front of the sports section was a blue WGPC car with McPahan written proudly on the sidepod. A return to brilliant blue after last year’s all-white car. Roger nodded in approval. McPahan had been bright electric blue six years before, when he’d taken one to a race win in his first, and only, season as a WGPC driver. Already in his late twenties, Bunn had been offered a seat in the proceeding season’s McPahan car, one that would push the team to third in the constructor’s championship, but had suffered a shoulder injury before the season had started. The shoulder problem never abated. He’d been forced to quietly retire eighteen months later.

Roger felt something within him. Was that… sadness? There was a certain melancholy to be sure. He’d finished eighth in the driver’s championship that first season and watched team-mate and friend Alexander Lund take the WGPC Drivers’ Championship. The next season he could have helped push McPahan even further. Was that why he felt sad? Hmm. No. Roger had accepted his forced retirement within months of having to release the news. Was it the fact that, for seasons fourteen, fifteen and sixteen he’d been a happy and contributing member of the McPahan team behind the scenes, and now that he’d said his goodbyes and formed his own team he was on the outside for the first time? Watching McPahan carry on without him? That might have been it.

He skimmed the McPahan article, a puff piece championing the Audioslavian team’s chances for the new season. McPahan may have a record number of teams to compete against this season, but the Cathair Herald was positive that the team who had finished an average of eighth in the WGPC Constructors’ Championship over the last three seasons would sweep all to take the crown for the first time.

Roger’s attention was taken by various other pictures on the page. Every team was releasing their livery pictures this week. Some were familiar - the deep midnight blue of TRAE, the hibernian green of MRT and the violets of Vangaziland and Starblaydia competing against one another for what may be the first time. It would be a season to watch, that was for sure.

A door opened and closed on the floor below. 8:55. That should be Alexander Lund, arriving for a nine AM start as he and Bunn had agreed, but Roger knew better than to trust the Audioslavian to be on time. Alec had barely managed to be on time for most McPahan events, he was hardly going to be punctual for a job wherein he was the boss. The door had been used by the two crew members that Roger had asked back today. Those two cars in the garage would need to be stripped back down to parts and put back into storage, with the new season not starting for months. Roger would be giving them a hand. He downed his coffee.

Two hours later, with his hands grubby from oil and dirt and the bodywork of the team’s LB01f boxed against the far wall, Roger noted that Alec still hadn’t made it into work. He pulled out his phone.

Part Two: Alec

Jingle jingle buzz buzz thunk thunk buzz buzz jingle jingle buzz buzz thunk thunk buzz buzz fuck.

Alexander Lund peeled his face from the pillow and opened his eyes for a split second before shielding them again as the low winter sun blinded him. through the enormous glass wall of his bedroom. His phone alarm continued to buzz and jingle and thunk, so he threw a left arm in its general direction and knocked over a bottle of 2004 Chateau Hasiere onto the tiled white floor of his penthouse apartment. You may think the metallic ker-punch of shattering glass may have woken Alec with a start, but you’d be wrong. Thirty-something men do not simply wake up after a night of drinking. A surrealist supervolcano could have sprouted next door and sprayed fourteen thousand furious bobcats per second into the atmosphere right next to his open window and a hungover thirty-something wouldn’t even considere putting his hands on his head. Hangovers at thirty-something are serious business.

Alexander Lund, though, was an expert at being hungover. He waited four seconds and tricked his body into flolloping a foot over to the right, just enough to be able to pinpoint the wherebouts of his smartphone through a mixture of ESP, sound detection and the one eye he could manage to prise open through the dehydration and the dazzle of the Oljestaden Sun. Another attempt at a grab succeeded in locating the phone, which he picked up at the eighth time of asking. He swiped to turn off his phone’s alarm and put it back down.

Peace at last. Now Alec would have a whole hour to himself to pull himself out of… wait a minute, why could he hear a voice?

Ah.

Alec reached back over and picked up his phone again. He held it to his ear.

“H^ello?” was the sound Alec made, his voice cracking and complaining. He coughed drily.
“Alec. Roger. Where are you mate?”
“Ugh. Home. What… what time..”
“Its gone eleven fella. You alright?” said Roger.
“Oh. Oh shit”
“Don’t sweat it” said Roger. “Get yourself showered and get in for one o’clock. We need another pair of hands here, but I don’t want you to come in smelling like a brewery.”
“Sorry. And thanks”
“We’ll talk later. See ya” said Roger, hanging up.

Roger. Roger was a friend. Or maybe enabler. No. Friend. Alec dropped the phone onto the bed next to him and went to run a hand through his hair before remembering he’d been sporting a shaven head for the last eighteen months. He grabbed at a plastic bottle of water on the bedside table and gulped what was left of it before resolving to actually get up.

Alec Lund rolled out of bed and put one foot onto the cold tiled floor. He then lifted one foot back off the floor and screwed his eyes shut and bit his tongue hard, emitting a low ‘RRRRRRRRR’. He sat up and picked the broken glass out of the sole of his bare foot. Yesterday’s shirt provided a useful sweeping brush to clear the worst of the shards into a corner before he ventured off the bed for a second time.

An hour later, cleaner of skin and fuller of belly, Alec located the dustpan and brush from under the sink and cleaned the glass from the floor. He could have left it for the maid, sure, but that would have meant writing a note to her to say ‘mind the glass’ and he knew full well he wouldn’t get around to that. He didn’t want to puncture his fourth maid in six months, though admittedly only one of those others had been in a similar broken-glass incident. It was while he was picking bits of broken bottle out of the grouting that he began to actually consider why he’d been drinking in the first place.

There had been a bar. In fact, there had been many bars. Initially it had been him, Roger and the rest of the team, but Roger had departed at a sensible hour and most of the crew had followed suit before midnight. By the end… who had remained? Alec seemed to remember it was him and only one other. But who?

What else did he remember? A train station. A train station? Ah yes. The young mechanic. Knew more about the inner workings of a WGPC car then anyone else at the factory yesterday. Part of the team last year, too, starting off just there for fetch-and-carry grunt-work and ending up as the oiliest cog in the machine. Alec and Roger had heard McPahan were hiring their team for the new WGPC season and had recommended the young lad apply. He’d refused. Too loyal, too young, too enamoured with the old stories about McPahan’s exploitative attitude to staff in their early years. Roger had tried and failed to persuade him to give it a go. Alec had, if he remembered correctly from last night, succeeded. Sure, he’d taken the ‘cruel to be kind’ idiom and stretched it to include ‘be a complete bastard to be kind’, but he’d done his bit. The kid would be at the trials in Crossport tomorrow.

The phone rang again. Alec fished it out of his pocket.

“Change of plan” came Roger’s voice. “Arthur’s feeling under the weather so we’re going to postpone stripping down the cars until tomorrow morning. And I do mean morning. You’re not needed at HQ. You can relax”
“Ah” said Alec, dumping broken glass into a small box. “Ah I was kinda looking forward to finally getting in, actually, now that I’m up”
“Well don’t go back to bed” said Roger. “We’ll go for a late lunch. On you. Make up for sleeping in. Rough one last night?”
“Apparently” said Alec.
“Get the kid to agree to try out with McPahan?”
“Absolutely” said Alec. “He should be on the train now, actually”
“Bloody hell” said Roger. “What did you say to him?”
“Not so much said as gave said Alec, smiling wryly.

[Cassadaigua]

Blake Unsure of Road Ahead,
by Chelsea Dufresne, Concord Heights Times

Taylor Blake has been registered as a participant for the upcoming World Grand Prix Championship series, however there seems to be more bumps in the road then were expected. There is evidently the need for her to sign up with an established team, instead of simply getting her funding from Cassadagan sources. Natalie Doran, a spokesperson for Five Star Mobile told us, “We were going to sponsor this vehicle on our own, though perhaps get some associate support. Still, we felt as though all would be well registering this vehicle without the need to be a part of an established race team. Not really sure why we can’t operate as an independent. Or maybe we can.” Even Taylor Blake, herself, is confused, “Seems to be a lot of red tape here to get started. We thought the backing of Cassadagan sources would be adequate.” Therefore, Blake could be considered a free agent, and despite coming from the nation that just won a NSSCRA 7 title, no teams have offered to take her on.

Taylor, in the meantime, did announce her intention to participate in an open testing session in Filindostan, the only team seemingly looking at other drivers at this point. Doran told us that, “You’d think we’d have gotten a call by now, but maybe we need to alert teams that we’re here and looking for the opportunity.”

[Savojarna]

Yarkovo International Circuit, Savojarna

The spin took Roman Arjenko by surprise. Driving out of Turn 8, his car started to become a bit unstable in the rain, but he thought he had caught it. The last thing Roman expected was aquaplaning in Turn 9. His last thought was "Damn, Yuri was right", before he knocked his car's nose into the wall next to T9 at a solid 250-ish km/h. He felt his shoulder being pressed into the seatbelt and his body thrown forward as the car flew back and turned, parts flying around him and one wheel hanging weirdly off the front. Next, Roman Arjenko felt a knock against the back of his head as the helmet bounced into the seat. The wreck slid sideways across the road, bumped into the other wall - making Arjenko gasp as his neck ached at being thrown to the other side now - and slid along the track unceremonially for a few metres, giving the driver a cold shower before it stopped along the wall it had initially hit. For some bizarre reason, his mind raced back to when he passed this wall in the WGP2 race here. "Visit Savojarna", it had said. "Experience the Unique", he thought. Probably the tourism agency didn't have a car crash in mind.

Nor did Roman Arjenko, to be honest. He had driven around Yarkovo in difficult conditions many, many times before, but not in this car. He was supposed to drive in the big show for the next year, and the SVJ development program had managed to pick up an old WGPC-spec car from two seasons ago for the Russian to train in. Yuri Dubranyov, his race engineer, had received some training by Krister Arlund, and the team had flown in a private coach from abroad to get their former WGP2 driver up to the top tier's standard. Roman, with his typical ambition, had been training hard. It was near impossible to get him off the track, and when the clouds drew together over Yarkovo, Dubranyov had a bad feeling. He called up his driver, in the middle of a race simulation, and asked him to consider breaking off the session based on the projected heavy downpour. "It will rain in the WGPC. Better to get used to it on the track I know", had been Arjenko's answer. What he forgot was that he didn't know the car, and everything happened just so much faster than he was used to.

As the car slowed down, Arjenko blinked multiple times, trying to regain his composure. It only half-worked, but as the track steward came running to him with the first aid kit, he signalled he was pretty okay. Roman unstrapped the belt and took off the steering wheel. As he climbed out, he shook, stumbled and fell immediately, but he blamed it on the impact. "Come, I'll take you back", the steward said, pointing to his e-motorbike next to the track. Thankfully, Roman hopped onto the back as the steward carefully drove back. He felt his legs were still shaking, and his neck started to hurt. As did his head. And his wrists, and his entire body really. The next thing he knew, he stood in the Yarkovo paddock, vomiting over the pit wall, and being dragged into the box by Yuri. "What the hell was that, Roman? Are you okay? You just suddenly... plunged into the wall", Yuri babbled, the driver not really responding at all. The engineer got rather concerned. "Roman? Talk to me. Where are we?", he asked, concerned about the driver's impact and trying to get him to talk. "Umm... a track... Revinka? Or, wait, no, can't be. Yarkovo!", he said, clearly stammering. Even more concerned, Yuri called the medical service.

The crash had been rather devastating. A sprained wrist was something Roman could deal with, even though it would be annoying at this time of the season. The same was true for the numerous minor injuries he took, even though they gave him almost no chance to train before the test drives. In combination with a concussion, however, the doctors decided to take him out of it for now. Roman Arjenko's body was brutally beaten. "I'm sorry, Roman", the lead doctor of the track said, "but... I can't clear you. Not before the end of the test season for sure. You're young, take a break and get healthy; do another year in the WGP2. Maybe you can be a development driver for this season, or get a cockpit later on, but for now... you're not gonna race.

[Nekoni]

“How is this one?”, quipped the young man at the desk, dressed in a suit decorated with the logo of a fox on the breast pocket. His mannerisms, and his tattoos gave the impression that he really didn’t want to wear a suit, but as the sales dogsbody for IceFoxx, he really didn’t have a choice.

The kid pushed a plastic cup across the table, half-filled with a mildly-blue tinged effervescent liquid in it. On the other side of the table receiving it: Erica Okumura. She didn’t have a lot of time for energy drinks, as witnessing her father have heart problems as a child made her worried that she’d inherit them. Even though she had it tested and disproven, there was still something in her that disliked the idea of drinking brightly coloured drinks that had nothing resembling healthy in them and attempt to hide said lack of nutrition a pretentious name. Still, a sponsor’s a sponsor, and pleasing them is part of the job description.

“It’s...OK, I think?” She swigged a bit of the mystery substance, swilled it around her mouth just to make it look like she was trying to do, before swallowing it and desperately trying to hide her real opinions on it. It was eye-searingly sour. The blue made one suspect that the flavour was raspberry, but no. Erica loved raspberries, and this sure as hell weren’t one of them. “What flavour did you say this one was again?”

“Sour blue raspberry.” Erica internally screamed, but realised that she had to play the game. “Yeah, it’s...a 6/10. It’s OK.”

The sales rep adjusted his glasses. “Haven’t the last five ones we tried all been 6/10?” He tapped a couple of sentences into his tablet. Erica could see from his predictive text ribbon that the words ‘waste of bloody time’ were among them. “You and me both, mate,” she instinctively responded. “Listen, let’s make it quick. Pick the first one, the mixed berry one. It’s the only one that isn’t sour. Your market’s tongues will thank you. I don’t mean to be blunt, but it’s 11.30, I didn’t have breakfast this morning and this meeting was kinda forced on me. Drinking a load of energy drinks on an empty stomach is a bad idea, so if we can knock off early, we can hit up the canteen and get an early lunch out of it. Maybe grab one of the toasted sandwiches because you damn well know my hands are too shaky for soup right now.”

---

Okumura was called into the main boardroom a couple of hours later for the meeting that she actually intended to turn up for: the Polaris contract. Indeed, Antonio Fermi was waiting at his desk, alongside the pit director, Alexandra Mayari.

"Enjoy the taste test, Erica?" Antonio had the smirk of a man that knew she didn't.
"It's weird being a human guinea pig. I swear you've turned my blood radioactive." She pointed to the coffee cup she was holding. "This is decaf. Decaf is awful, but if I have regular coffee, I might be dead before 30. This is what you've done to me."
Antonio laughed. "I know it's not to everyone's taste, but you know how sponsors roll, you gotta make them happy. And if that means getting a can of whatever with your face plastered on it, you're gonna have to drink it first to make sure it doesn't taste of crap."
"It's an energy drink, boss. Nobody drinks it for the flavour."
"Be that as it may, we have to run with it. They've come up with a name, too."
"Is it as pretentious as usual?"
"Tempest."
"Good Lord. A 14 year old came up with that, didn't they?"

Antonio cleared his throat, sliding a contract over the desk. “Either way, in case you didn’t realise, we’re giving you the First Driver slot again. Bit of a pay rise, now we have a bit extra to play with.”

Erica reached the part of the contract with the relevant number emboldened as he said that. She tried not to have her eyes light up at the sight of it. She reckoned that bosses didn’t like that sort of thing. “I see”, Erica responded as she took out her fountain pen and signed as Polaris’ first driver.

Alexandra Mayari spoke up for the first time. “Excellent! I’m going to enjoy working with you again this year.” Erica turned to her and asked who her second driver was going to be. “We don’t know yet. Haven’t asked Sayono yet. Wanted to get our main driver sorted before we tried. Now", she stood up and gestured towards the main garage. "Time to show you your new home for the next month. The car's here, but not quite drivable yet. Still, though, you get to admire the new paintwork."

---

"As you can see, we were so sure that you were going to sign that we went ahead and put your name and number on there. Number 47, as ever." Erica admired the new purple paint job of her car, the vehicle she'd be attempting to take to victory as Mayari did all those seasons ago. It was certainly a massive improvement stylistically - there was an actual attempt at making straight lines on the paintwork this time. She noticed the increase in advertising space on the car. Clearly, the team was serious in getting sponsorship, and they were companies that were pretty upmarket in Nekoni. Of course, at the front, she noticed the logo of IceFoxx, the people who'd been trying to give her a premature heart attack this morning. She looked at her name on the wing, the first time the Polaris team had something there other than just her number. Underneath, she saw 'La Tempête'. The Tempest.

She pointed at it. "Oh God, is this IceFoxx's idea? I have a nickname now?"
Mayari laughed. "Yeah, sorry. I had one too, way back when. I was The Phoenix, and you are now The Tempest." Erica scrunched her face. "Relax, Eri. You don't need to use it yourself. You aren't a pro wrestler." Her face eased.

"Now, we're still dead early in the season, to the point we don't even have a calendar yet," Alex continued. "So, we don't actually know if there's gonna even be a round in Esportiva, let alone Nekoni. The training sessions you pull off here might be your last ones in the country until the mid-season breaks," she spoke, whilst opening one of the myriad drawers in the garage, finding a bag of sweet pastries, and devouring the one that appeared to have the most filling in. "There's a shortlist twice as long as the calendar itself. So if I were you, I wouldn't worry about the stress of performing in front of your own crowd like last year. We'll need you like that for every race, not just the home one. 25 points reads the same in any language." She offered the bag over to Erica, who took out one at random: a large croissant with a generous layer of hazelnut cream running through the middle.

"Aww, you picked my favourite one."

[Ethane]

He looked down at his phone. It was ten past five. That annoyed him. He paced over to the other side of the room, scratching his head. The office had told him that he would receive a phone call today, at 5 pm, from a team interested in having him as their driver for WGPC17. That phone call, clearly, had not come through yet. He looked down at his phone again. Still nothing. He was getting impatient.

Ethan had previously rejected a place on the Ethanian team, Fireline. While he respected them as a team and recognised that he wanted them to be successful, he had decided that he wanted to establish new connections and work for a different team - plus, there is the fact that Benjamin Talison also needs a seat in a team and Fireline would probably offer it to the younger driver if he didn't take the place, so he gave up his seat there to guarantee Ben got a seat this season. (Benjamin Talison signs for Fireline.)

He sat down on a green chair up against the rear wall which was adorned with WGPC posters, facing towards the door of the office. Ethan placed his mobile phone on the desk and looked around his office, at all the memorabilia he had collected from motor-racing over the years. He had so much stuff, yet it was all meaningless to him because he hadn't won it. He wanted to win something. He wanted to win something big, something important.

A noise erupted from his phone. A ringtone. Who was it? He picked up the phone, answering it.

''Hello, who is this?'', Ethan asked, a smile appearing on his face in anticipation for a team offer.

''Hello Ethan, this is...''

---

Fireline is back

Fireline is re-entering into the WGPC competition for the 17th season.

The team previously entered into and competed in the 14th season of the contest and unsuccessfully tried to enter the 15th season. The performance was under-par and the team will be looking to come back into the WGPC and make a big name for themselves.

They are in the market for some top-drivers and are prepared to pay a substantial wage to sign these drivers, both in up-front fees and in wages across the duration of the season, with large performance and sponsorship bonuses as well. All drivers interested should either send an email (TG to Ethane) or state it in a press release, letter, or report, sent to the team (mentioned in this thread). Some drivers will also be approached by the team.

Sponsorship opportunities are also available for all those interested in making their companies' name known in the WGPC sphere. Small to large sponsorship packages are available. All sponsorship opportunities allow for space in any programmes, magazines, or press releases from the team mentioned as supporters of the team, as well as advertising space, and a position on the team's livery. Fireline will also promote your company and it's sponsorship on its social media at various points. Sponsorship also provides a number of other benefits, varying between smaller and larger packages. Please direct any questions or enquiries to our office in New Sarum, Ethane.

[The Sherpa Empire]

Vijay Tripathi's agent was trying to discourage him from spamming anyone's email or voicemail. "You don't want to sound desperate," his agent explained.

"But I am desperate!"

"Okay, but why?" said his agent. "You've been racing for years and you never cared about WGPC until this year. Why are you so worked up about it now?"

"Until this year, I never dreamed that anyone would think Kai Qiang was the best driver in the Sherpa Empire," Tripathi explained. "I was only thinking about SIMS, but the world is becoming more international, and I can't ignore it anymore. I have to defend my reputation!"

"The people at Punjab Motors are upset that you've been talking to TMW," Tripathi's agent told him.

"Too bad, so sad," said Tripathi. "That's what happens when you don't keep up with the times. If Punjab Motors wants to live in a world that ends at the Afghan border, that doesn't mean I need to stay there with them."

"Vijay, you have an established relationship with one of the top companies in the Empire," his agent said. "If you want to get into WGPC, we can do that with SIMS and Punjab Motors. There's no reason to bring the Tibetans and Vangazis into it."

"There's no way SIMS and Punjab Motors could put together a team in time for this season," Tripathi said. "The Vangazis already have their foot in the door, and I think we can understand each other. They take racing seriously. I respect that. Now have that email I sent you translated into English or Vannish and send it to VMR."

"That email makes you sound like you're asking a fairytale princess for her hand in marriage."

"As long as I sound like a dashing knight and not a greedy ogre or something..."

"It's more like a deranged shaman."

"Well, edit it, then. Make it sound good. Isn't that what I pay you for?"

[Third Asopia]

"Welcome to the Family Reunion guys!" Marcus Carnétier said as he laid plates and cutlery onto the dining table.
"Chandra, please stop looking at your goddamn phone," Mom said.
"You guys do not get it! I want to post this on PicBoard! You. Motha. Fucking. Guys. Don't. Understand. Fricking. Technology," she retaliated. She stormed off and into her room she went.
"That's one member gone. Seriously guys, chill. If she wants to post then let her. It's not like it takes a thousand years," Carnétier said.
"Evdaden, you do not get the rule of no technology. We can't let these black thingys distract you. That's torture," Marcus continued,"And I have confiscated your console game CD." Carnétier gulped.
"Kill or Die? What game is that? Look, if you fill your mind with this shit, you will become that. A burden in your life." He pointed to the garbage can that was overflowing.
"Guys, quit the crap talk and let's dig in," Fabian said. There was a so-called delicious spread of beansprouts, chicken, venison, green curry and celery pudding.
"Is that what I think it is?" Carnétier pointed out to the celery pudding.
"Yes. Healthy, but tasty," Marcus said. Carnétier knew it was definitely healthy, but he, quite, doubted that second point. Tasty. Seriously? Ew.

---

All the food was gone, except the celery pudding. No one wanted to eat it.
"Evdaden, eat it," Mom said.
"N-no. What about Fabian? He looks like he needs nutrition," Carnétier blurted. He gagged.
"Hell no. What about Chandra? She's like plump and obese mixed,"Fabian said,"Chandra! Eat the special dish we've prepared for you!" Loving food, Chandra rushed out to the dining room.
"You mascara's running. And I hope your pillow isn't dirty too," Mom gave Chandra a dirty look. Chandra shrugged. What she cared for was the 'special dish'. She gulped it all in one bite. Then her face turned green.
"Family rules: no vomiting food you ate," Dad said teasingly.
"Eww. What eesh teesh?" Chandra said with disgust, although no one could käme out what she was saying.
It took a while for Chandra to swallow the chunk.
"I'll kill you Fabian" She said,"Why didn't you give it to Evdaden. He needs to impress some girls." She smirked.
"You shut up," Carnétier glared at her.
"Peace," Mom said. She was always the peacemaker.
"No," All of them children said. Bad thing Mom wasn't a very good peacemaker.

[San Rocca]

Jacoppo never had liked this place, with its wine-red drapes all the way to the ground and the exuberant amounts of oiled pine wood against the walls. Despite the ceiling being at its regular height, the clouds of cigarette smoke and the shaded light have it all a very cellar-like feel. And that the one sitting behind the massive desk which dominated the room was the only man he feared did not contribute positively to that sentiment. He wanted to get out of here, rather sooner than later and chewed his gum aggressively to hide his nerves.

”Look kid, I do not care about all that. The investments we can do in the slipstream of such a signing are enormous.”
“But…”
“I don’t want to hear your but, Jacoppo.”

There were times, places and companies where he would have giggled a little at that remark - but this was none of those. In the world, there are two kinds of people. The vast majority speak loud and emotional if they are very convinced about their point. But father was one of those few who would talk softly but sternly, eyeballing him. The only thing that gave away how he felt, and by now Jacoppo immediately recognised it, was the clenched fist which nearly snapped his pen. It that told all there was to know.

I’m completely unable to prove I’m worthy of the level. I actually have no clue whether I’m worthy of the level. What’s a whole lot of cash in San Rocca might just be a drip in the ocean out there. There are far more candidates than seats, let alone cash riders. I’ve got no idea where to start.

Some would call it question marks that were buzzing around in his head, but in fact they were big exclamation points. They were rattling in his throat, but Jacoppo just murmured a ‘yessir’, turned back and tried to reach for the door.

”One more thing.”

He stalled, hesitantly… The few inches between the door knob and his hand, between freedom and the ball around his ankle.

”Don’t you ever dare to spoil our good name. Montaguti stands for honour. I have always accepted your hobbies, supported even, … But I will not accept a single faux pas.”

Jacoppo wanted to speak, tried to. But after a short, stocky nod, he left for the door. After a few minutes, he tried to regroup his own feelings. Usually, mounting pressure brought out the best of him, but he desperately missed a pedal to push it all out. All he had in front of him was a laptop, a moderate CV and a pinging cursor next to the TO:. Although the WGPC had been so kind to provide a full contact list to all aspiring drivers, it felt preposterous to contact any of the major sides. After a small hesitation, he filled out the contact details from the Badai Angin Tim Motorsport, Fireline Independent Racing Association and iBen Toralmintii's Race Eelandii Vilita & Turori World Grand Prix Motorworks. After the latter, he had run out of letters anyway and booked his flight to the pre-season testing venue. He had no clue what he could do there, but this little wiggle room for mistakes, he better be in the heart of the action.

[Filindostan]

Villacosta Residence
San Marco, Filindostan

Rusty already left his transient house at Mattijana, knowing that he may or may not come back. Maybe just to visit in case the WGPC calendar hits the Kopylov InternationRing, or whether it hits or not, or whether he'll have a WGPC seat to begin with. He was in his room, conditioning himself to maintain his physique coming into the season. He still thought of the conversation he had with his now estranged father, when he declined to his offer to drive for Badai Angin. Of course, he saw the email that were sent from the team to the distribution list of the WGPC drivers who applied for a possible drive in the championship.

To: WGPC Drivers Distribution List
From: Badai Angin Tim Motorsport
Subject: Invitation to an Open Testing session at Kimantara Trac

---

Good day!

I am Rudolf Ibuna, team principal of Badai Angin Tim. Our WGPC team are looking for drivers who are interested to drive for our team this coming season. We will be having an open testing session at Kimantara Trac, Barat Rava, in the island of Pelita Raya, of course in Filindostan.

Here, drivers will be taking part in a sixty minute session to set ten flying laps. This will determine the starting positions for the afternoon race, and the race results along with the qualifying one will be the basis of the selection of at most three drivers for an invitation to a private testing session in Yogyakulta to determine the two drivers representing Filindostan's first WGPC team.

By the way, the cars that will be used will be last year's chassis by Kissan Motorsport, the KS01, driven by Kyoko Fujisaki, Ethan Ellis, and Jasmin Kranjska, and we have ensured equality in the setup as well as Megfogo GT tyres from Solymok, also used last season, and of course, unused engines will be fitted to the cars with mileage of just one installation lap around the Kimantara Trac to ensure that the car setup is properly done.

The first six drivers to show intention to attend shall contact me through my email at rudolf.ibuna@badaiangin.fid. Drivers intending to attend should have their travel and travel-related expenses arranged by their personal sponsors. Accommodation and food will be provided in the dormitory of the Kimantara Trac for the driver and three of his or her companions. Also let us know if you have food preferences or allergies so we can arrange alternatives.

We will be holding the tests on the second day of the third month, year 90008. ( OOC: March 2, 2019 at 10:00 PM UTC+8 )

Thank you and have a good day.

Best Regards,

Dolf
Team Principal
Badai Angin Tim Motorsport

He saw the email, and thought if he could join the open test at Kimantara, but hinting at a possible second private test at Yogyakulta gave him a hint - he was not considered by his father for the private test which would determine the two seats to be filled at the Filindostani team. Rumors were circulating that Vangazi driver Jang Xiaopeng called the Badai Angin team to declare his interest to join the team - in one condition and it was to sign him along Sorlovian driver Gregori Krupin. Not sure if the rumors were just a prank call or such, but it meant to him that he might not get the seat - not that he declined to take it anyway.

Two hours later, an email popped in his inbox. It was from the Johan Struna's deputy at MRT, Maria Jamasova, offering him a test drive at MRT once again. His thoughts came running again. The email contained four drivers, Jasmin, Xiaopeng, Gregori, and himself.

"It could be between me and Jasmin for that seat. Sigur's already signed, so it could be very possible that they choose Jasmin over me." He recognized the work done by Jasmin as a test driver for the MRT, as well in the KISMO she drove to two podiums and six points finishes, while he thinks that his midseason slump may have caused the selection of Sigur over him to be signed an extension. "But I was the one who secured MRT's championship!", referring to the 6th place finish at Crossport that sealed MRT the championship - had they not finished in the top 10, they would have been nipped by VMR instead.

Basing around the rumors he heard, he wasn't sure if the other team in play, Omni Racing, will be able to keep the Vangazi driver in their team. Maybe the only way to keep him is if they leave out their man Mick, but that is a shot in the moon that it will happen. Maybe the two will end up at Badai Angin after all, but what about him? He would not have any backup option should he fail to get the MRT seat. But there were other options. There is a possibility of an open seat at Omni, should they keep Schramm and let Jang walk away, Eelandii VTGP, Polaris, Fireline, and SinVal. He sees the first two teams plausible, but at that point, he had a clear mind, and had to make decisions.

Rusty accepts the testing invite at MRT, expressed interest in taking a seat at the following teams: Omni, Polaris, Eelandii VTGP, Fireline, SinVal, and will wait if he'll be offered a private test invite at Badai Angin.

He opened his email client in his laptop and began typing his mails.

Bcc: Omni Racing, Polaris Racing Team, iBen Toralmintii's Race Eelandii Vilita & Turori World Grand Prix Motorworks, SinVal Racing Team, Fireline Independent Racing Association
From: Rustom Ibuna
Cc: Margarita Villacosta
Subject: Declaration of Interest for WGPC17 Racing Seat

---

Good day!

I am Rustom Ibuna, 23, from Filindostan, and I'm writing to your kind office to notify you of my interest of driving for your team.

I was driving as part of Mattijana Racing Team last season, and helped them win the Constructors' championship along with Savojar driver Sigur Bjarnason. However, it might be a possibility that I will not be driving for the team this season.

I was part of the Kissan Motorsport Academy and raced in single seaters in Aji no Moto before I entered the highest tier of open wheel racing in the multiverse, and I can bring sponsorship money If you need it. I'm currently sponsored by Ayakashi Energy Drink, a drinks company in Aji No Moto, Jakulta Health, a specialty medical company in Filindostan, and I'm currently in negotiations to bring additional sponsorship if needed.

Do let us know if you have any queries or concerns. I also copied my agent in this communication, and you may also reach out to her for queries.

Thanks!

Best Regards,

RUSTY#71
Rustom 'Rusty' Ibuna
rusty@rustyibuna.fid

To: Maria Jamasova <mariajamasova@mrt.co.mj>
From: Rustom Ibuna
Cc: Margarita Villacosta
Subject: RE: MRT test drive

---

Hi Maria,

Good day! It's been a while since you last got in touch with me. I accept the invitation, and I look forward to drive your challenger this season for some laps at Kopylov InternazionRing.

Thanks!

Best Regards,

RUSTY#71
Rustom 'Rusty' Ibuna
rusty@rustyibuna.fid

---

Kimantara Trac
Barat Rava, Filindostan

Tyra was preparing for an installation lap at the Kimantara Trac. She was surprised to see seven KS01s in the pit lane, with six of them fitted by Solymok's Megfogo GT, while the one of them, with a livery that's distinctly different from the other six, were fitted by the newer GTx variant. The car was littered by Solymok's logo and recognized by Tyra as she already put the miles of driving in the car. She was recently contracted by Solymok as a tyre tester, and she immediately realized that she might not suit up for a team this season, probably. She knew that a single win at Insocima International in the recently concluded WGP2 will not be enough to pique interest from the WGPC teams, but why was she put into the WGPC application list at the first place? Why not Kyoko Fujisaki?

Politics.

At the end of the last WGPC season, Kissan Motorsport was sold to Badai Angin and became Badai Angin Tim. The team, now with a Filindostani Racing License, wanted the motorsports authority to have two driver applications for WGPC under the Filindostani flag. However, only two spots are available for both Filindostan and Aji No Moto, as the two nations are under a single shared license, meaning at most two drivers can only be applied upon. They convinced the organization to put forward two Filindostanis for this season, and despite Kyoko having a late season resurgence, delivering a second place in a double podium at West-East Timor and securing 7th for KISMO in the WGPC season, the foster daughter of Bryant Gambal got the nod instead. Kyoko, along with Chiemi Hino, and Eiji Ibi decided to forgo Ajian citizenship for Filindostani racing licenses to be a part of the drivers' academy for Badai Angin, which, alienated them by Ajians in the process, but to no avail. Kyoko now races for the Badai Angin sponsored car prepared by Ibuna-Gambal Racing at Formula Hodori, while being groomed as their next WGP2 driver.

Back at the track, she was preparing the sixth car to have an installation lap, and she was able to check the car's setup to be exactly the same as the other five. Upon returning at the pits, she was greeted by her stepfather.

"Hey Tyra, good job on the setup of these cars. You ensured almost fair play for the drivers partaking at the open test."

"Thanks dad. Although I wanted to join this test. I have ambitions too, you know."

"You'll get your chance. For now, since you're a Solymok girl now, you should be a good girl to them."

"Dad..."

"Just kidding. How are the GTx tyres going?"

"I see better grip in these tyres. They're better than the Petrovi tyres I raced in WGP2."

"Maybe that's due to the car." Bryant laughed.

"You're belittling your own car? That's nuts, dad! Remember that I won a race with this pushcart!"

"Okay then. What's the deal now with Solymok?"

"They're planning to supply tyres also to some WGPC teams."

"I see, I heard them wanting to offer sponsorship and being the tyre supplier to a WGPC team."

"I can reveal you which team they sent the offers to."

"You not need to. I have insider info already."

"That's my dad! Not sure if they want the offer though or if they are talking to other suppliers already. Maybe I can show you the email I have."

"That I have not seen. Did they offer your services?"

"Probably. Is there a Plan B?"

"How about a test seat at Badai Angin?"

"Ayaw ko. I want a race seat at Badai Angin."

"I'm afraid you have to settle for a test seat the most. Unless Plan A works."

"What Plan A?"

"Luh. Fireline, right? The team Solymok offered for sponsorship?"

"Guess it was. They just sent the email to Fireline and offered them the tyres for additional sponsorship money if they sign me. Either way, they want to sponsor the team and not sure if they offered car designers as well. Not sure if that's the case or what."

"Fine. Though I really doubt you'll get that seat. You're still young. You can still improve and beat that Fujisaki girl. Dolf's planning big this season. He plans to enter you two to WGP2. But only one seat for you two at IGR."

"Hmm."

"And also, if less than six will be going here, you may drive one of the cars. Don't cheat on the setup though if that happens. But we'll still not consider you to the race seat."

"Let's make a deal, dad. I top the race, I go to the private session. What do you say?"

"You top the race, I'll treat you to an eat-all-you-can. Have more things to do, Get back to work on that car."

"Hmph."

Tyra was obviously disappointed when she did not get what she wants from Bryant. But she thought, "He's right, I guess Sir Dolf has plans for me after all."

OOC: Formal IC email to Fireline to follow in next RP.

[Vadkness]

The Vigo Viga
Hotel in central Vexby, Capital of Vadkness
Room 405

Hunter paced the room with one hand running through his hair and the other refreshing, refreshing, refreshing the news feed on his phone, desperate for more news on the WPGC. The news had been so slow. He'd gotten no texts, no emails, nothing from anyone about a potential team for him to join. Since his interview with Florence, there'd been one, maybe two, three new team signings. He seemed to remember some racer had an accident, had to drop out of the runnings. Nothing useful to him. His interview was aired all over the country, but that was precisely the problem. It aired in Vadkness, but this was the World Grand Prix and he'd never get anywhere staying local like that. He refreshed his phone again. A new news story showed up and looked at it. Fireline Independent Racing Association was looking for drivers.

He stopped pacing as he finished reading - a reminder appeared on his phone.

Plane takes off in 5 hours.

He checked his phone battery and plugged it in to charge. He'd been checking it so much lately the battery was drained. He'd never used his phone this much in his life. He began to pack his bags so he'd be prepared for later. A plane was ready to take him to the first pre-season testing location. It was a while before anything began, but it was a good idea for him to get himself out of the country, maybe meet up with some of the other drivers and just generally get himself more noticed instead of being cooped up here in Vexby.

---

Vadkness International

The airport was quiet. The airport was always quiet, given how isolated the country seemed to be from the rest of the world. Still, that was looking to change and Hunter had a private jet waiting and a swarm of paparazzi following him, shouting his name, trying to get his attention. He smiled and posed for a few pictures, but insisted he had somewhere to be. A while later, once he was settled onto the plane, he felt his phone vibrate and checked it to see what it was. He'd received an Instagram notification - one of the photos was already uploaded. He double tapped the picture of himself smiling and waving on the steps to his jet, but made no comment. He switched his phone off while the plane prepared to take off and would not turn it back on again until later. He had some work to do.

He pulled his laptop out of its case and switched it on. He stared at it for a while, still very unused to even owning one of these machines. He opened up a word processor and began to make a list, scanning through every news article he could find. All the teams signed up, the potential teams, the drivers already signed up, the drivers who looked like the might end up in a certain team, and public callouts from other drivers for specific teams, and any drivers who, much like himself, looked currently like they had nowhere to go. After a while, he'd made his choices.

He began to send out some emails to express his interest in some of the teams. Fireline Independent Racing Asscoiation made his list due to the public call for drivers he'd seen earlier. Mirros-HMC Racing came in as a choice since he'd seen very little in the news about it, and as far as he could tell seemed to be lacking a little on drivers. Vannish Motors Racing would be a long shot, but there wouldn't be any harm in trying, right? He sighed and relaxed his shoulder, turning his head and shutting his eyes, not wanting to watch as he pressed the button.

Messages Sent.

[Cassadaigua]

Blake Now Knows Her Path,
by Chelsea Dufresne, Concord Heights Times

A little more then 24 hours ago, I reported on the fate of Taylor Blake, the Cassadagan open wheel star looking to make her presence known in the WGPC. As stock car racing is a little more popular in the matriarchy, Blake has saw fit to pursue the international series that has been long successful. However, Blake, and members of her team were quickly faced with the realities of the WGPC. There was a need to sign up with a team, and to that point, the phone had not been ringing. They decided that they were going to go to Filindostan test as an open driver, but with recent news that will not be the case. Taylor Blake will not be going to Filindostan.

Taylor and other team representatives have not officially named the team that they will be representing, because they want to give the team itself the opportunity to make the announcement themselves. We have also learned that Five Star Mobile plans to not only be a major financial supporter for Blake’s effort, but will provide help for her teammate, where needed as well. Natalie Doran, a spokesperson for Five Star Mobile said of their involvement, “We promised Taylor that we would be behind her every step of the way, and that will continue to be the case. We have a great presence in motorsports now, being the primary sponsor of the defending NSSCRA champion, and now we can market our brand to more nations with this sponsorship.” While that makes it clear that Five Star Mobile will be behind Blake, Doran went on to say, “They don’t want me to say who her teammate is yet, because they want to allow the team to make the announcement of signing Taylor. But that teammate can look to us for any assistance they might need as well. Because for her to be at her best, the whole team needs to be at their best. We plan on being a partner here, with the vision set on winning this title as well.”

Taylor Blake is just happy to know where she is going. “I think we just needed to throw our name out there and let people know that we did not have anything set. Once that was the case, it was a true privilege to get the call from who I will be racing for. We’re going to let them provide the press release on that topic, and I can’t wait to get to work for them! It is going to be great!”

[Sorlovia]

Heske,Vangaziland
Practice Circuit

A smile spread across Gregori's face when he saw the email pop up on his tablet. MRT was a great race team and he'd be a fool if he turned them down. It was just a test run so that they could see his technique and abilities as a racer but that was often how you got a race contract. The stakes were just as high for the racing teams as they were for the racers themselves. A race team couldn't afford to sign an unskilled racer if they hoped to do well in the Manufacturers Rankings. Hiring a bad racer made the entire race team, and most notably its executives, look bad. But hiring a talented and proven racer held the potential for great rewards.

Gregori was quick to answer the email. It wouldn't be polite to leave MRT waiting and if he delayed too long in his reply he risked losing the offer to another racer. Success on the WGPC stage was all about seizing every opportunity and making the most of it. You could rest assured that if you didn't seize on the opportunity another racer would. So he quickly typed a reply and sent it off.

To:Maria Jamasova
From:gregorikrupin.volkmail.sor
Subject: MRT test drive

Hi Maria,

I would like to thank you for the offer of a test drive with MRT. I have heard a lot about your racing team and it was a privilege to compete against your racers last season. I gratefully accept your offer of a test run on the Kopylov InternazionRing and I look forward to meeting you in person. I understand how competitive securing a place on a race team can be and I look forward to showing you and your team my skills as a racer. I will see you in a week!

If it easiest for you I can travel to your headquarters at your earliest convenience at the moment to meet with you and your staff. I am excited about the upcoming season and I'll admit that I am very eager to get back on the track again.

Yours sincerely,
Gregori Krupin

-----

The offer from MRT had come as a surprise. He'd expected to hear from VMR first given that he was training in their backyard. But MRT was a good racing team. He remembered them from the last season and how their racers had proven to be a worthy challenge out on the track. There was no harm in doing a test run for them to see if they would take him on. Perhaps they would offer him a lucrative contract. Besides, a little competition for VMR was healthy. It showed that he was a racer that other teams were interested in and as a result the contracts grew all that much juicier. Having a chance to try out the MRT WGPC17 car would be an invaluable opportunity and a welcome chance to test his skills in a model that differed from the ones he had experience in.

"I didn't see that coming," he said to himself softly "MRT beating VMR to the punch. Interesting."

Gregori had just completed his fourth lap of the Heste Practice Circuit and now sat leaning back in the driver's seat of his practice car. Built in Sorlovia the high performance car was not too dissimilar to the VMR WGPC16 car albeit with different systems and performance statistics. But it was a fine car to practice in and had been designed according to the requirements and expectations of an actual WGPC competition car. It would never experience a WGPC race, it was just a training car after all, but it gave him invaluable practice in the difficulties and rigorous of an actual WGPC car in the race.

The practice runs had given him valuable feedback. He needed to adapt his handling on the corners more and to better use of acceleration on the straights. He could use a wide sweeping corner as a sling shot to launch him down the straight in order to make the most of acceleration and the slipstream. Tight handling on the corners and a firm hand on the wheel would allow him to navigate those corners with greater ease without having to sacrifice any speed.

[Esmerel]

Nexus Racing HQ, Nimbus Bay, the Nexus Wardship
Monday, February 25, 2019

"So, do you have anything else to add?"

"No, Jean. That was all."

"Alright. Thanks, Talia. We'll meet up at New Nexus Tower with the new guy next Monday. March 4."

"Got you. See you later."

Jean had just finished speaking with Talia Thornton, his manager of 4 years. The news Jean had been expecting for some time had come in: his pit engineer, Darrell Matherly, had left. While he had been expected to retire at some point in the near future, he left as soon as Jean was hospitalized last May. The news of Jean's reconstruction had been kept mostly quiet and of lower intensity than it actually was to maintain public morale. Matherly just didn't want to return after he got the news Jean had been turned into a cyborg. It wasn't anything offensive. But he wasn't up to the responsibility of the job anymore. (In his own words, at least.) The replacement? Someone from Trondheim, Norway. That was all the information Jean got.

Being mostly isolated from the world left Jean mostly oblivious to world events. He had caught up on most of them, but the announcement of Obey Sport GP stepping up to WGPC was news to him. And their car launch was this Friday... at the Tiburon Amphitheater? Big place to unveil the team, which meant they had big funding. And, perhaps, they might end up being a big opponent.

This was all the news Jean had expected this Monday. He'd be going out to the test track in an hour for his first few runs of the UHSGV-3. But he would receive a bit more news. And it was big news.

About 40 minutes later, Jean received a call. Unknown number, hmm... Network says it's safe, though. And something's telling me to answer this, so... let's answer it, then. "Hello?" Jean began.

"Ah. Welcome, mister Jean," a masculine voice began.

"Uh... do I know you?" Jean responded. Despite the warmth of the voice on the other line, Jean was skeptic. He didn't recognize the voice. But they certainly knew his.

"Oh, Jean, everybody knows me. Let's try this again." He cleared his throat and spoke in a commanding yet pacifying voice. "Those who wish for power must learn to kindle the flames of their people."

This was a dead giveaway for just one man.

"What? Chancellor Richmond? The Chancellor?"

The man on the other end let out a deep laugh. "Of course it's me, Jean. You're more than worth my time. I probably would have sent you back to school, if you didn't remember that quote!"

"You do remember I'm old enough to have missed that entirely, yeah? I graduated from high school in 2001, and you only made that quote in 1999. Plus, Esmerel wasn't that egocentric back then." Jean was still mesmerized.

"Ah. You are right, my boy. Actions have consequences, and men can regret those actions. But they must not forever lament over their mistakes. What they must do instead is something to correct them. No matter how small the correction or how big the mistake, everything can be fixed. I, too... have many regrets, you know."

"Chancellor Richmond, if I may, why have you called? To grill me on your most famous quotes? 2004, Treaty of Halifax, by the way."

"You make a strong argument. No, I'm here to introduce you to something new. Something you'll love, but you weren't ready for... not until now." Richmond seemed to be getting quieter.

"What might that be, Chancellor?" Jean was rapidly becoming intrigued.

"This is it. Ahem... System, initialize option three-four-six Lambda."

Jean's cybernetic arm began to tingle. He could feel... something being constructed from within. Then it stopped.

"That was me, Jean. I activated something remotely. But the next step has to come from you. Repeat after me: 'System, activate option three-four-six Lambda.' "

"Alright. System, activate option three-four-six Lambda."

"Now, 'confirm.' "

"Confirm."

A panel emerged from the arm near Jean's "wrist." What did it do?

"Let's improve our setup a bit. You received the glove in the mail, right?"

"The... glove? Yeah, I think I did." Jean had indeed received a package in the mail. Within it was a single right-hand glove.

"Put it on your right hand, then wave that hand over the panel that just emerged from your arm."

Jean did as the Chancellor instructed, and as he did, a holographic screen showed up above his arm. On the screen was a live video of the Chancellor. "Whoa!" Jean exclaimed. He was ecstatic. "You put this in my arm? This is military-sector technology!"

"And you're our one-man army, so we gave you this. It's a multi-access tool for practically everything. Right now, you could decide to move around this video feed of me on the screen like an Internet browser, or browse said internet with incredible connection. Or you could activate the scanner to interface with the real world. And all you have to do to activate it is think about it while the system is active. It's very interesting indeed. But I'll leave you to explore it further. You can wave your hand over the panel again when you want to close it."

"I... sir, I have no words to say."

"Then say nothing, Jean Mercer-Daly. You're our apex competitor. Don't let us down. Richmond out." The feed of the chancellor cut out, but the screen kept running. Jean had just been granted an incredible piece of technology.

He knew what he had to do with it. He couldn't let his country down again. But first, he just had to show this to Ryker.

[Falcania]

Undisclosed Location,
Two hours ago

Mrs. Dass and Mr. Ulan sat alone, at a boardroom table made for twenty, insulated from the night-time bustle of High Roost's metropolitan populace forty floors below them. The conference phone lay on the table between them, a squat dome of black plastic. Nervously, Ulan caught Dass's eye, and in unison, they pushed the green button on its side.

A few moments of dial-tone, then the distorted echo of a scrambler. The voice that emanated was digitally masked.

"Speak."

"Progress is continuing well overall," Dass said, having rehearsed. "The technicians at AMB have hit a snag on Project Aperture, but the fallback method is working great."

"It's Camden," Ulan interjected. "Camden offered Novax the number 2 seat, and we've accepted."

"I see," the voice said. "This represents a complication in the project timeline."

"Stond and Crax assure us that Novax is ready," Dass said. "Camden gave us a time-limited offer, and our sources inform us that they are low on funding and engineering expertise."

"We think that-"

"The Organisation does not pay you to think, the voice growled. "I know what you think. You think that Novax will benefit from competitive experience, and you think that Camden will be a good testbed for the CEP-3. Luckily for you, I agree. For now. As long as Novax delivers, we're all happy."

"Like I said, Crax assures us-"

"I don't mean as a driver. I mean for the real reason I let Stond recruit her."

[Audioslavia]

Part Three: James

James Whiteyard’s instructions from his employers at HQ was summed up succinctly by WGPC President William Gow before ending the video call. “Make them work with what they have”. James closed his laptop, adjusted his cyan and magenta striped tie and stood up, using his left hand to fasten the top button of his black suit-jacket as he did so. He clasped a blue clipboard under his right arm and left the office. The name Stan McPahan was still on the front door of the corner office, and on the door it would stay. James wasn’t about to spend the WGPO’s money replacing it, nor was he about to do something embarrassing like print out a sheet of A4 with WGPC McPahan Acting Director: James Whiteyard written on it and sellotape it over the top. If there was one thing that might entice James to cover the sign it was the fact that Stan McPahan himself seemed to stare daggers at it every time he walked past, and Stan McPahan didn’t seem like the sort of person it would be worthwhile to piss off.

James exited the corner office and glanced at the two adjacent rooms. In one, a shade smaller than his own new office, sat two cups of coffee that had long since gone cold and one charcoal grey suit jacket hung on the back of a chair. The owner of the jacket was at one point the owner of James’s new office and, presumably, at some point the owner of a desire not to finish a lukewarm cup of coffee but to make a new one and not drink all of that either, was downstairs and out the back door, busying himself in the McPahan team garage. In the other adjacent room, a young man was busy taping a sheet of A4 to the front of an office door. ‘WGPC Motorworks: McPahan: Strategic Synergy Executive: Brice McPahan. It was an inordinate amount of colons for one arsehole.

Brice McPahan was an arsehole. That was something James Whiteyard had to admit. Had he been at James’s private school back in the day James was sure he’d have been the sort of boy to brown-nose the prefects yet not have the wherewithall to become one himself. Had Brice been a member of James’s golf club - and Brice would most certainly never become the sort of gentleman to be accepted into James’s golf club - not only would he be mistaken for a particularly desperate caddy but he’d be the type to pour his schnapps into a square-bottomed glass and do it *before* three o’clock. The yachting club wouldn’t particularly care for his modernist hairstyle either. A Windsorian side cleft. No man worth his salt wore his hair in such a way.

James had to admit that men of lesser stock may well have considered Brice equally an arsehole, but for different reasons.

Brice finished taping the sign to the front of his door, the smaller of the three individual offices on this floor, and turned to greet James.

“Mr. Whiteyard sir” said Brice, pronouncing it like ‘White’ and ‘yard’, when ‘wit’ and ‘yud’ were preferable. “Pleasing morning is it not?” continued Brice, an attempt at sounding posh that sounded simply preposterous. Whiteyard smiled thinly.
“It is indeed, Mr. McPahan”
“My report is almost done, sir” said Brice, nodding towards his office. “Cost saving measures the McPahan way. Father would have been proud”
“I’m sure” said Whiteyard. Damned Cost Saving Measures the McPahan Way. Had James the choice he’d have had Brice busy himself with some other type of report. James knew already what needed to be done to get McPahan onto the grid for race one without overspending the meagre budget they had, and didn’t need Brice’s input into the matter. Nevertheless, Brice had insisted. It was something ‘father would have wanted’. Of course. HQ were keen on the idea of McPahan doing everything they could to live within their means this season, though, so having an extra warm body, and possibly warm mind, on the case wouldn’t do any harm. James nodded at Brice, who responded by being unsure what to do for a split second before attempting a sort of part-curtsey, part-salute, part-bow, part-dab in response. James struggled to withhold a chuckle.

James descended the staircase and nodded to the secretary, who beamed blankly in return, before heading out the back door towards the garages. Inside he could hear a cacophony of shouting and drills. He took a deep breath before heading in. James had never minded the smell of motor oil, and even found the smell of petrol to be pleasant in small doses, but the odour in the McPahan team garage, now dubbed the WGPC: McPahan garage, was thick and damp and somehow black. Today there was a meaty flavour to the stench, too, with forty-six extra men in the factory.

The team’s legal switch from McPahan Racing to WGPC Motorworks: McPahan had had some unforeseen and niggling side-effects. One of which was the new incursion of Audioslavian labour laws into proceedings. As a technical new company, McPahan had to open its non-executive jobs to the public, and real attempts had to be made to recruit from both local Audioslavians and the general populace throughout the country. Hence today: A ‘job interview’ for each position in the pit crew, contested by a number of hopefuls, old and new. Stan McPahan had shown a determination to simply hire only from the previous crew, but this simply wasn’t possible, not least because, with a new, improved, lower salary, some of the crew had refused the opportunity. James made out a number of local dialects, from Crossport to Puerta Cruz, with a few strange ones here and there, not least from the red-headed young boy sat with his back to James. Good lord that boy smelled… ripe. Was that… was that vodka? Whisky? Rum? The boy couldn’t have been much older than eighteen and yet smelled like Oliver Reed, whoever that was. The boy also appeared to be on the verge of vomiting into his hands at any given moment. Seriously? A boy gets dragged from what sounded like the furthest reaches of the nation and gets blind drunk the night before and turns up hungover? Unimpressive.


Part Four: Stan

Stan McPahan barked the words Team Green: Positions and watched three men scurry towards the car in the centre of the garage. The car in question was last year’s McPahan Racing WGPC vehicle. The engineers were still working on the new season’s car. Each of the men squatted in front of a tyre, brandishing in both hands a shiny new state-of-the-art wheel-gun. The task was simple: Remove the tyre that’s on the car, put it to either your right or your left, depending where you were, and grab the tyre being put down by the crewman cadet next to you and put it on the car. Four tyres, four men. The aim: Be faster than the guy next to you. Failure to do so, or an attempt to do some gamesmanship by putting the tyre somewhere other than the designated place, or hold on to it while your rival tried to grab it, resulted in you being out. Four men from team blue had taken their turn, two men had progressed through to the next round, with the two slowest now sitting dejected at the back of the group. Teams Red and Yellow had gone through the same process. Now all that was left was team green, and McPahan would have eight decent candidates for wheel men for the new season.

Stan narrowed his eyes as he counted only three men.
“Who else is on team green?” Stan barked. In the far corner, half sat, half slumped directly in front of James Whiteyard, who had appeared from nowhere, an awkwardly proportioned ginger fellow, who can’t have been much more than eighteen, sat bolt upright before scrambling over to a wheel.
“Jesus red” said Stan, “get your head in the game. In fact, nah, I’m not having this. One of you losers want to take over?” said Stan, looking over at the rows of mechanics who’d come second best on their turn. His question was met with a barrage of ‘oohs’ and raised hands. Stan heard a grunt. He turned round to see the ginger kid grasp the wheel gun firmly in his hands, nodding at the wheel in front of him. Stan could barely make out what he’d said, but it was some version of ‘I can do it’. The kid was visibly sweating. He smelled like Alexander Lund after a race win, after champagne but before the shower.
“You answering me back, kid?” asked Stan, folding his arms.
“I can do it” came the simple retort.
“Let’s hope so. On your marks, gentlemen…”
Stan blew a whistle and clicked his stopwatch on. He didn’t even look down, just counted in his head.

One-Laivenrakentajas Two-Laivenrakentajas Three-Laivenrakentajas Four-Laivenrakenthello.

In front of the ginger kid there was a wheel spinning slowly, affixed correctly to the car. The other men were still either desperately trying to maneuver a wheel towards them or fiddling forlornly with the business end of the drill, trying to put the new wheel on. Under five seconds was by far a record. The kid had done it. He’d done it seemingly with more alcohol in him than a spinster at a wedding. A few seconds later, a final, angry whirr of a wheel gun ended the contest. Stan kept his eyes fixed on the red-haired kid.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Boss” said the kid.
“Come again?”

Part Five: Carsten

Carsten O’Rourke surveyed the scene in the garage. Next to him was stood a tall man in a black suit with a cyan and magenta tie. His hair was parted on the left hand side in a style he recognised. Years ago he’d worked behind the bar at a posh golf course and they all wore their hair like that. In front of him, on the opposite side of last season’s white McPahan car, was Stan McPahan, former boss of McPahan Racing turned right-hand-man at WGPC Motorworks: McPahan. It was that little name change that had changed Carsten’s career trajectory, for better or worse. Carsten, contracted to McPahan Racing, had driven for the junior team McPahan Link on Audioslavia’s domestic circuit. The contract had secured O’Rourke’s services for McPahan Racing at any level of WGPC that O’Rourke wanted to race at, providing McPahan ran a team. Now, technically, they did not run a team in WGPC, meaning O’Rourke could race for whichever outfit wanted him. Could he stay with McPahan? Aye, of course. Sometimes you roll a three in life, and its up to you whether you go with the three or you re-roll and hope for more.

Also in front of Carsten was a gangly red-headed boy who resembled a sort of cross between an Orangutan, a three-toed sloth and an ironing board, such was the awkwardness of his proportions. The kid looked like he had the arms and legs of a much taller man, but the head and torso of a teenager. He didn’t so much bring himself up to his feet from a crouch, he more accurately simply unfolded himself vertically and didn’t stop until he was far too tall. The kid turned and caught sight of Carsten, nodding in recognition. Carsten nodded back.
“Carsten, great of you to join us. Let’s find somewhere quieter” said Stan, before turning to the rest of the team. “[i}Lads[/i]” he shouted. “Ray here is going to take the eight winners through some more testing. The rest of you: Wheel-man position is filled for now. Those of you who had their heart set on that, leave now. Those of you who think you can still do a job, stick around”.

Carsten noted that none of the other guys had looked like leaving as he and Stan left the garage along with James Whiteyard.
“Carsten, this is James Whiteyard of the WGPO” said Stan, nodding, Carsten reached out to shake James’s hand, noticing that James’s handshake seemed to involve a forefinger fingertip probing into the back of his hand as a thumb made its way to Carsten’s knuckle. A masonic handshake, or rather one that attempted to discover whether or not the recipient was also part of the brotherhood. Carsten O’Rourke, a catholic with no time for any kind of monarchy, was emphatically not.
“Mr. Whiteyard, this is Carsten O’Rourke, formerly of McPahan Racing"
“Pleasure” said James. Carsten simply nodded. "You've a contract with McPahan Racing but not with WGPC Motorworks: McPahan."
Carsten nodded.
"That's why we're here. His lawyer will be upstairs. There's things we need to untangle"
"Ah, Audioslavian contract law" said James. "Can't live with it, can't live without it, except that last part of course. Shame you won't be with us next season, Mr. O'Rourke."
"And do you have a seat lined up for the new season, yet?” asked Stan. Carsten shook his head.
“I’ll be travelling to Filindostan for a try-out with Badai Angin.. By now my agent should have sent my reume to Vannish, Obey, Omni and Eelandii but with no response just yet.”
“Are you confident?” asked James. Carsten nodded.
Stan, noting the lull in conversation, motioned for the men to head back into the office.

[Sorlovia]

Kamensk Test Circuit
Kamensk, Sevayev Oblast, Sorlovia

Luck had not been on his side. Rumour had it that Gregori had already received an invitation to take a test circuit with MRT but he found himself down-on-his-luck and uncontacted. Gregori had been his racing rival for years now and it seemed everything always went his way. Always Gregori Kupin, never Dmitri Sokolov. Gregori was always the one the media fawned over and the one everyone wanted to know. Despite the fact that he'd beaten Gregori in the 2017 Sevayev Grand Prix and a few other minor competitions. Despite the fact that he, not Gregori, was the number one ranked racer in Sorlovia. Dmitri couldn't keep the jealousy out of his thoughts no matter how hard he tried. It had always been this way since they'd entered the racing arena together. Gregori was the only who always seemed to get all the breaks.

"Pull yourself together Dmitri!" he thought to himself "This isn't high school. It's not a popularity contest. Gregori isn't the only one with skills."

The new season hadn't started yet. There were still chances to win a place on a team. Maybe he could even steal a VMR contract out from under Gregori. That would be rather fitting. Or maybe he could attract the interest of another racing team. They would be watching him after all. All the racing teams kept a very close eye on the racers who had signed up for the WGPC17. He just had to show of his skills and prove that he had what it took it race in the WGPC. He would not remain a rookie for a second season. He was determined to secure a place on a team and to make his debut racing the WGPC!

"Let's do this!" Dmitri whispered softly to himself "Time to fly!"

He pulled out of the pit onto the familiar asphalted expanse of the Kamensk Test Circuit. The track that had seen him win his first championship title and a premier league cup. It's name was perhaps a little misleading. It was a professional level track but was labelled as a test circuit due to not being featured in WGPC. The Kamensk Circuit was up to WGPC standard but gran prix racing was still a new sport in Sorlovia as was motorsport in general. The WGPC had yet to secure enough of a following in Sorlovia to warrant a Sorlovian feature track. Perhaps by WGPC18 or WGP C19 things would be different.

Dmitri took off down the opening straight at speed pushing the engine to the limit. Not just because he liked the sound of its roar but also because he wanted to test the limits of his test car. He wanted to learn its quirks and iron out any problems it might have. His pit crew had been quick to reassure him that the car was in peak race condition and that he wouldn't have any issues with it. But he preferred to test it out for himself and it gave him a chance to hone his race skills. A hairpin turn flashed by in a blur of speed and tightly controlled aggressive turns before opening on to another straight ahead of a second tight hairpin corner.

[Vangaziland]

Vannish Motors Racing spent much of the off season scouting prospective drivers. Vangazi were scouting nations far from the borders of the Empire's territories. With auto racing included in the last summer Olympiad, many expected an influx of new international interest in motorsports. VMR executives knew WGPC 17 would be a competitive season as soon as this word leaked out.

This hunch turned to fruition. More former champions would compete now than during any recent season. This includes the return of Jai Kardaeri and Mirrors Racing. Kardaeri holds many season records. This puts him at odds with Jessica Franssen and her run to the top of the charts. While Jai holds titles like most podiums and top tens, Jess has the best percentages by far. To put things in perspective, Jessica and Kai each have 5 career WGPC wins. Franssen did it in 20 races. Kardaeri did it in 63 races. Both will try to catch Terho Talvela who has 6 wins in 38 races.

To bolster Talvela's season 17 effort, iBen Toralmintii returns after a lackluster NSSCRA 6 affair. iBen is hungry to prove his relevancy in the world of motorsports. In typical Vilitan fashion, two teams owned by ties to the Union will run the WGPC circuits. iBen and Terho teamed up to lead the field for WGPC 14. A quantifier should be added to note that VTM dominated most of the field. In her six race stretch, Jessica Franssen scored more points than either VTM driver. After replacing a teammate who scored 4 points in the first half of the season, Jessica led MRT to second in the Constructors'.

Today the World Grand Prix Championship finds itself in season 17. Jessica Franssen has to face these ghosts of the past in just a few weeks. Analysts will watch like hawks with many questions. Who will win head-to-head? Franssen or Kardaeri? Can the iBen and Terho combination outrun Jessica and VMR over an entire season? Can Jess live up to her reputation in the most star-flooded field in modern WGPC history?

Only one thing is certain. Stars will be made shortly. It is also likely some may fall. Reputations may fizzle. Throughout all of this, Jessica will not be alone. Selecting the right co-driver is Vannish Motors Corporate and Vannish Motors Racing's biggest decision of the year.

Jess wanted Gregori Krupin signed in many ways. He was a great co-driver last year. He worked hard throughout the season to help VMR reach 2nd in the Constructors'. The team appreciated that very much. Krupin did not give up, despite car trouble sprinkled across his campaign. He established himself as a good signing for any team throughout the future.

Vannish Motors Racing was mostly on board with bringing Gregori back. Unfortunately VM Corporate became involved. They saw the potential migration of new teams as a way to grow. Behind much of this was Edgar Halvorsen, a Chief Product Officer who shadowed the team during the WGP2. One of his main goals was to market the sports car department he ran to new nations. It was paramount to collaborate with a new company in his eyes. A Sorlovian outfit was considered. Halvorsen saw room where NSSCRA had built a roost.

The name Kai Qiang was known in Vangaziland for the red & yellow Flying Fish #44. News of his personal life only recently began to reach Vannish outlets. This is after two seasons of Qiang establishing himself as a fast stock car racer. Many Tainese Vangazi identified with Qiang and the other cars from Sherpaland. The Commonwealth of Jhalpharezi is located in the Region of India's West Bengal territory and alsohad a connection to Qiang and his countryfolk.

This made them marketable in the world of international motorsports to the Vannish fan. Halvorsen reached out to Tibet Motor Works. They were given the chance to design the newest suspension for the latest WGPC chassis. The minor differences of the new chassis changed the model number from the VM33 of WGP2 II to this season's VM34. Engineers from TMW also helped redesign the front wing for the new year.

After several transmission problems, Vannish Motors kept that design in house. Engineers are trying to stabilize the issue. Engineers from Tibet Motors Works are expected to work with VMR, especially for the second car. This leads to the question of who would drive it. Halvorsen wanted Qiang. For one reason or another, he wasn't available. Many thought his nation was worried about quirks in his personal life. Vangaziland couldn't be a more welcoming place to people different in ways like Qiang.

He was a personality. Halvorsen and VMR were banking on finding more personality within the Sherpa Empire. Several names were considered. One name kept forcing himself to the front of the discussions. Vijay Tripathi had built a prominent career racing open wheel in Sherpaland SIMS. He felt he deserved the prominent spot a VMR seat offered.

Scouts were quick to compare his form to drivers like Fast Cocoabo. This caused a slight bit of hesitation at first, causing VMR scouts to consider other options from the Sherpa stock car IRACT drivers. This was because the bird had several high profile incidents in big situations. With such a focus on high aggression and great technical skill, the caution falls slightly to the wayside.

"Some say Tripathi is risky", said new VMR principal Martin Ivold. "I have faith in him. But you see, that faith means something. I feel our team can work with a driver like this. Our car is pretty balanced and designed to be reliable." WGPC fans all know a car's designed reliability doesn't always translate across a season. "Vijay will do better in our car than most others because of these factors. The other thing is that elbow grease will increase his chances of finishing races. I believe he can do it."

Franssen also spoke on Vijay Tripathi and his skills. "Tripathi has talent on the track. That's for sure. The team and I can show him the ins and outs of the league. Someone like him can use a solid coach. If we sign him, he'll probably bring a principal and crew from IRACT." A few Vangazi would be likely to tag along.

Jess wasn't completely over Krupin. "Gregori would still be a great choice. He's hungry this year. I gave him lots of great advice last season. If he remembers what we talked about and drives like he saw last year's best do, he can run for it all. He's motivated. That's what every team should look for."

After much fanfare, VMR finally announced the news. Vannish Motors Racing offered Vijay Tripathi a paid spot in the second seat for season 17. Tripathi would also be able to bring 1-2 sponsors, not to mention TMW's separate involvement.

"Part of our goal of working with Tibet Motor Works is to establish a platform for that company to enter the sport", said Edgar Halvorsen. "If they do, it will be great to have a working relationship established. Last season, we helped bring Gregori Krupin exposure. Since Sorlovia and Esportivan Vangaziland share a border, we hope our auto industries continue working together in reasonable trade. If Tibet and Vangaziland form ties, any Sorlovian outfit would also be an ally. This is our plan. We have enough rivals as is."

Jang Xiaopeng also mentioned Gregori Krupin. "I can't help but want to race with Gregori after watching him last season", said Xiaopeng. Mr. Jang has ties to Vannish Motors through HRC. As a company operating in several disciplines, there is always room for drivers to keep affiliations to VMR. Unfortunately, this led to drivers inexperienced in rally crashing a lot of cars in Hodori. This proved an expensive venture for Vannish Motors.

Xiaopeng once stated that he would not sign until Gregori did. At this point, it seems teams are interested in Krupin. Gregori has picked up more offers than Jang. "If I don't get signed, it won't be the end of the world", said Xiaopeng. "I'll wait a few weeks. There are usually drivers who seem motivated early in the season, only to fall back as the reality of it hits them. If a team needs a replacement that can score serious points, I'll give them my card."

Jang was asked what he would do in the meantime. "There are a few TV shows I can do stunt driver work on", said Jang. "Vanngard, for example." The sci fi series was recruiting motorsport drivers to pilot different vehicles throughout the season.

With the signing of Tripathi, Vannish Motors would have a full lineup. He was expected to accept, but still had to officially ink the pen. Vijay had shown fire when not being considered. This convinced VMR. Now that he had the seat, they hoped he would use that fire to fight through WGPC 17.

Rumors leaked about other drivers Vannish Motors would be interested in if the seat was open. There was a report Jessica Franssen messaged Terho Talvela about driving for Vannish Motors. This likely never happened. There was also the leaked tape of Edgar Halvorsen talking with Jenna Vandersen.

A racing fan secretely recorded the pair having a private conversation at a 'green' coffee shop. The audio was grainy and had to be enhanced to be heard. "If it wasn't for that *beep* Mirrors Racing or whatever, we could have probably signed Jai Kardaeri next to Jess." At this point in the tape, Halvorsen inhales and coughs.

Jenna speaks in a dream-like voice. "What is going on with that purple of theirs? The season hasn't even started and the office is already getting emails about color differentiation." Baroness Vandersen's hazy voice sounded as if it were a thousand miles away. It was the first time VMR executives were caught on tape speaking about other teams. The source posted anonymously and was believed to be a tourist.

"Vijay is the man though. He'll do well", said Edgar. "I'm betting twenty birds that he will." Halvorsen later clarified that he was speaking figuratively. He denied any relation of the term 'birds' to Vannish gambling slang.

Halvorsen's involvement with VMR is limited to the business side of things.

[Esmerel]

Tiburon Amphitheater, Cerveza, Vespucci, Esmerel
Friday, March 1, 2019, 07:00 PM (UTC -4)

The day has come.

Ahead of the seventeenth season of the World Grand Prix Championship, several teams have gained entry to the competition. Many of these teams are veterans looking just to maintain their strong performances from past seasons, while others were looking to improve. Only a handful of teams are entirely new to the competition. One of these teams is the ever-elegant Obey Sport GP.

Despite only attaining moderate results in its two seasons of WGP2 experience, finishing 7th in the constructors' standings each time, many have called for Obey to step up to the top level. In season 16, they turned those calls down, citing they were not even close to ready. Now, with far more experience in both racecraft and engineering, the team is ready to turn the crank up to eleven.

Weather across much of Esmerel on this March day was rather poor- from overcast skies to rain showers. However, for the many attendees of today's launch event, this does not matter. What does matter is the unveiling of Esmerel's first entry into the highest echelon of foreign sport.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the launch event. Please take your seats and give a round of applause for newly anointed team principal David Young."

(A round of applause is initiated as Young walks onto the stage.)

"Thank you, everyone! Thank you! It is such an achievement for all of us to be here tonight. Give yourselves a pat on the back, because you all are troopers for coming out here!"

(The crowd cheers again. Many of them are thankful for the fact that the Amphitheater has a retractable roof.)

"As you all know, we are the Obey Sport Grand Prix team. For the last two years, we have spent our time in the WGP2 series. It wasn't that bad, you know. We got a couple of wins, and many podium finishes, courtesy of star drivers Renzo Virzi of Audioslavia and Jason Masami of the Main Nation Ministry."

(A small applause is given for the two drivers who led Obey's charge in WGP2.)

"It is because of their efforts, your efforts, and our own that we can be standing here, ready to present to you our newest performance machine: the Single Seat Alpha, year 56, or SSA-56."

(A silhouette of the car's model is unveiled on the large projector above the stage. The crowd oohs.)

"It's powered by a 4.0 liter turbocharged Obey PUO-Trio V8, fueled by the revolutionary SEPPOIL-H400 hydrogen fusion fluid, constructed from YGON's Alpha Mark Eleven carbon fiber, and run on Brutus HP-MAXI tires."

(All of the mentioned parts of the car are made by venerable companies, each of their logos showing up on screen above the silhouette of the car. The crowd continues to applaud.)

"And this... is how the car will look."

(Young reveals the car's base livery.)



"For our livery we turned to our origins as a manufacturer: our trademark color combination of red, white, and black. And we will carry this sigil into battle on the circuit."

(The crowd cheers wildly at the livery.)

"Along with the rest of our tech we have implemented a new safety measure: the Transparent Driver Guardian System, or TDGS. This will allow for the protection of the driver during the race without sacrificing visual ability. While Nexus Racing's DIADEM device, of which this was derived from, worked, it did place a large bar in front of the driver's point of view. Not only does the TDGS circumvent this issue, it harkens back to our glory days of racing endurance and rally cars."

(The crowd continues to cheer, as the car is hidden behind a silhouette again and split into two.)

"As many of you here know, we were quick to secure a driver for the team. Many of you already know his name, but, regardless, give a warm welcome to Evdaden Carnétier."

(Carnétier walks onto the stage. The crowd applauds as he takes his seat to the right of Young, and his livery is revealed on the screen.)

"Carnétier is an accomplished driver in his home country of Third Asopia, and was left without an opportunity to further his career following civil strife. This is why we picked him. We decided to give him a second chance when he so desperately needed a second one."

(The clapping, which had continued since Carnétier appeared on stage, dies down as Young continues.)

"Now it is time to announce our other driver. This we have kept a secret, unlike our rapid announcement of Carnétier. Not to disrespect him, of course. Either way, we are proud to present our First Driver..."

The crowd goes silent.

"Taylor Blake."

(The crowd begins to cheer, though the overwhelming majority of viewers are unfamiliar with Blake.)

"Taylor is from Cassadaigua, as a four-time domestic racing champion and protege of the reigning NSSCRA champion, Stacie Houston. Taylor, along with sponsor Five Star Mobile, are both ready to contribute to the team effort."

(The crowd increases in intensity.)

"And with that, the picture is complete!"

(Blake's livery is unveiled, and the physical model of the SSA-56 is lifted from under the stage. The crowd enters a standing ovation.)

"Let us move ever further!"

[Mytanija]

EXCLUSIVE: JELENA COLAC-STREK INTERVIEW
MIRO LETVIN TALKS TO JCS AS SHE LOOKS TO SECURE A SEAT AT MOTORSPORTS' TOP TABLE

by Miro Letvin

Jelena Colac-Strek told me about the first time she went to a karting track. It’s a slightly amusing story, although it does give significant insight into the male-dominated, enormously working class culture surrounding motorsport within Mytanija. It also makes her rise within the sport domestically all that more impressive – if she can gain a WGPC seat this season, it is likely that she has had a more difficult route to that point than most.

“So I turned up at the track with my Dad,” Jelena explained. Everything to do with motorsport was always done with her father, Tomas Colac, who was (and continues to be) an avid fan of motor racing and more generally fine cars.

“It was my first go [at racing] so they were going through all the safety procedures and telling us about the karts and all that kind of thing. I was there for about a minute before the guy talking noticed I was there and when he noticed he immediately said: ‘ah, it’s nice to see someone’s sister here supporting them before their first big race’, bearing in mind that this was in front of the whole group. My Dad told him that I was actually racing and the boys all laughed and the surprise on the man’s face was a picture.”

That story puts into perspective the uphill challenge Colac-Strek has had to even get to this point, where Mytanar racing is beneath her and she needs to step up a few levels in order to find a challenge worthy of her abilities behind the wheel.

Within Mytanija approximately 95% of those involved in motor racing – whether it be open-wheel, karting, rally driving, whatever – are male and Colac-Strek is doubly a unicorn given the fact that she is from a relatively wealthy, comfortable upper class background. Motorsport tends to be the preserve of working-class greasers from cities like Miago and Ibon, men spending their spare time fiddling with nuts and bolts and talking about things like aero cover, graining and slick tyres. They do so on weekends and in the evenings after work, as something to do for fun, a little bit of escapism from what can often be an extremely dull and samey existence in Mytanija’s industrial centres.

Jelena Colac-Strek’s upbringing was nothing if not privileged, particularly put in the context of Mytanija as a nation. She was born just before the start of the Mytanar Conflict that ravaged the country for four and a half years. Her parents, Tomas Colac and Élodie Strek, both came from wealthy families but had highly successful careers in their own right.

Her father is a successful architect and had been making waves prior to Jelena’s birth too, working to design a number of buildings throughout Vojovitica as well as in the capital, Esca. Élodie, Jelena’s mother, had been a highly successful model – with a Mytanar father and Prahecqois mother, both diplomats – and post-Mytanar Conflict moved into fashion writing. She is now the editor of fashion and design powerhouse Kultura, whose circulation throughout Rushmore makes it one of the most successful Mytanar exports post-Conflict and Élodie’s editorship has a lot to do with that success.

Jelena’s upbringing avoided the worst of the Mytanar Conflict, particularly in direct contrast to many other Mytanar sportspeople – with Jezdimir Ocokoljic probably being the most high profile example. It is worth remembering the interview he, from his comparatively poorer and less privileged background, gave to Gazeta Sporta ahead of the 30th Copa Rushmori in Cassadaigua (the one before the one we hosted!). He discussed his father dying during the Conflict, as well as having to look after his younger siblings whilst his mother had to try and work to keep the family going. Compared to Colac-Strek’s childhood the difference is like night-and-day.

Jelena recognises her privilege in this regard: “I can’t deny how lucky we were, to be honest. When the war started my Mum took me to Prahecq and my father tried to stay here, but he eventually joined us too. There were so many people who couldn’t do anything like that and it’s quite a sobering thought really, it makes me really want to give something back because I feel – I don’t know – almost guilty that we managed to avoid the trouble when so many people and their families were affected irreversibly by what happened.”

Following the Euran intervention and the end of the war, Colac-Strek returned to Mytanija and attended an extremely prestigious private school in Prizren. She could already speak Zentrian, Vojovitican, Thessian (all largely mutually intelligible, of course), and Prahecqois but she learned three further languages whilst there and achieved top grades in exams from the age of 11 all the way through to 18. She did however, feel a bit out of place due to her rather unusual – for a girl from a wealthy family – way of spending her free time.

“It was strange, nobody really put too much wonder into it to my face but I could tell that there was often a bit of talking about it behind my back. I didn’t always click with people when I was there. It didn’t bother me particularly – my Dad always put it into perspective best by saying that there’s people in awful situations all around Mytanija and the biggest thing I’ve got to worry about is kids at school or men at karting tracks thinking I shouldn’t be involved in racing. Let them think what they want and I’ll just get on with it anyway, was pretty much my mantra throughout school and those early years in karting.”

She was good too, winning a lot of races and drawing a lot of attention. She even started to receive grudging respect from people she never thought she would: “There was this one guy, a huge man whose overalls were always covered in black from working on the cars throughout the race weekend and he always seemed to make a remark whenever he’d see me racing. Then one weekend I qualified on pole and proceeded to lap almost everybody and he pulled me aside and told me that he had decided that he’d changed his mind about me racing and that I should keep up the good work!”

One person who doesn’t approve of Jelena’s career choice is her mother and that is something that hurts her every time it is mentioned. “I don’t often discuss that really, obviously I love her and I always try and pay attention to her advice, but she just doesn’t get it. She’s quite old-fashioned about it, she just doesn’t think cars and big engines and the danger of the sport is something for ladies. I think she would have quite liked me to go into modelling like she did, she thinks that’s rather more ladylike, I think it may be the Prahecqois side of her. I don’t know.”

Colac-Strek’s parents divorced when she was 14 and it was all admirably amicable. Many will remark that everything is easier when you are rich and that certainly would have had a part to play, both sides could rely on their own finances and do their own thing once they had decided that their marriage wasn’t good for either of them anymore. For children, the situation is never that easy, particularly for the psyche of a teenager.

“Yeah, I was deeply upset about that for a while. I wondered if it was at all my fault, if I was somehow to blame and obviously my parents both said that it was not like that and tried to reassure me but that didn’t really help.” Jelena chuckled a little, reflecting on it in the present. “My results after that went really downhill and I think a few of the lads I raced against regularly thought that they had finally found the level where the girl couldn’t make the step up, but my Dad got my head screwed on again and I’m sure they were all gutted once I started getting podiums and wins again.”

Her National Championship win with the Kukolja Racing Team is her greatest success so far and the way in which she dominated races throughout that season was particularly impressive. Team Principal (and a bona fide legend on the domestic scene – he even has a corner named after him at Rebecna!), Martin Kukolja thought he was taking a risk when he gave her a seat with his team, but was soon proven to be entirely incorrect in that assertion. “She took things on board quickly and was reliable but retained that natural racing instinct, she’s a real talent and I wouldn’t hesitate to take her on at a higher level because all the skills are there, she just needs the chance to hone them and prove that she can do it at the top.”

Whether Colac-Strek will get a chance remains to be seen. She hasn’t yet received any offers and her frustration at this is obvious (“I just wish they’d give me a chance to show them at pre-season testing!”), but there are obvious questions about whether she will be able to make the step up from the Mytanar domestic scene to the global sport.

As one Vilitan commentator pointed out: “Motorsports is much more collared shirts and laptops than it is jeans and dirty rags [nowadays].” Mytanar motorsport is almost a hobbyist’s game, particularly when compared to the data and the precision of the WGPC. Whether Colac-Strek will be able to give the feedback race engineers require to make the subtle changes to their machines in order for her and their team to succeed is questionable. She has the natural racing ability, but at this level of the sport there is more to it than just that, you have to be a jack-of-all-trades, able to diagnose problems and work in tandem with a team much larger than just you to solve them. It isn’t just you going out to race against the rest at this sort of level.

Colac-Strek was relatively objective and dispassionate in her personal assessment of her abilities in this area: “Yeah it’s definitely something I’ll have to work on, but I hope that teams see my ability when driving and believe it’s worth taking a shot with me and giving me that chance to demonstrate that I can do it. Nobody is born with the ability to give all that feedback and help digest the data that drivers in the WGPC get, but people can learn to do it and I’m more than willing to work hard in order to be able to do that side of things, too.”

One thing is for certain, if a team does take a chance on JCS they can rest assured that they will be getting a young driver who is full of determination. She had an uphill battle to succeed domestically and has reached the pinnacle within Mytanija, a big fish in a very small pond. The challenge for her now is to try and find her way in a great big ocean which is full of sharks. I wouldn’t bet against her managing it, though.

[Third Asopia]

Fascgend, Phvimbap

---

Time was running out. Fate was against him. Glancing at his watch, he knew he had 11 minutes left. Then stopped by three cloaked people. She had died. His beloved. No. Not today out of all days. Carnétier had just come back from Esmerel, and now he'd received a call that his girlfriend was in a car crash. He didn't get there in time. Not in time to save her. A tear rolled out of hie eye. Tick tock. What was life. What did it mean. To Evdaden it was meaningless. Well he loved Obey and Esmerel. But the many hurdles put him into a period of depression. War. Strife. Death. He had seen all those in the 3 year period of the Kurgon Rebellion. Wasn't time to be happy. Grief and remorse. How could he. It was his fault. He should've brought her. Carnétier took off his watch and stamped on it. 12 midnight. Depressed and suicidal.
Carnétier locked himself in his hotel room. He could proudly say that his life sucked. Except he didn't want to. 糟糕。Gottverdammt. He took a photo of himself smiling. Fuck. He could not reveal his situation. That's a sin. No. Never. How would he live. They both depended on each other.
Fuck. Life was useless. But he had to accept it and continue life.
Ring. Who's dat. Took phone. Answered.
"Come to the lobby." A grim voice said.
Never.

Yes, this was from the 11 minutes misc video. The part in italics. And in not going through depression. Thank you. Have a nice day ahead

[Newark Aristocracy]

Lees office:

Kohan Lee:GOD DAMMIT! I HAVE WANTED TO ENTER IN INTERNATIONAL COMPETITION FOR YEARS,GOD DAMMIT!
MAKE SOME CALLES TO TEAMS BY 1:00 pm TOMORROW!


And,so Kohan Lee's agents were trying to find a team for him to race on this season,but couldn't find one,so they made more calls to CAR and VMR,hoping to get Kohan Lee a seat on a team for WGP17 Before the first Pre season tests.