World Grand Prix Championship 12 - everything thread

[Falcania]

Announcement: On the morning of the 29th of March, I am getting on a train to go and stand in a field and pretend to be a wizard until the start of April. So I need to have this wrapped by tomorrow. I will do some actual RP later tonight, but I just wanted you all to know that my schedule is going to be accelerated.

[Falcania]

The boardroom was the same wherever it went. Largely this was because Ilizbit Goldmund and Tara Teller had had it fitted to the observation deck of their private airship.

Goldmund and Teller sat at the twin-seats at the head of the table. Theirs was a partnership that had propelled its way to the very top in just fifteen years. Teller was squat and broad, dressed in a sharp pencil skirt and matching double-breasted jacket, in deep crimson to compliment her plumage, her smile easy and inviting. Goldmund was tall, proud, and dark, in a crisp black suit. Goldmund oversaw operations, Teller oversaw management. That is to say, Goldmund could find a profit to exploit in any situation, and Teller could make anybody do anything she wanted.

Julian Marquis looked up to them a great, great deal. They were here largely as hobbyists - albeit hobbyists with a vested interest in their new toy. Everyone knew this was Marquis' show. His pool in which to sink or swim. So he knew that even though those two chairs at the head of the table were vacant, every word he said would be fed through to the two women on the veranda.

"Gentlemen, I'll be short. We have to pick a driver to accompany our good friend Stang Crax." He gestured to the driver, whose orange team colours stood out amongst the suited executives and managers. "I have a number of portfolios here."

Stang was growing numb, as Marquis led the sycophants through figures and exploitation streams and sponsorship contracts. He flicked idly through the pictures, the files... endless pictures and files of low man after low man. They all blended into one... and then one stood up out at him.

"Who's this guy?" He said, interrupting a portly white-fluffed Featbridge type. "Zebandy. Sebrandrew. Xeb... Xeb Kallasdun."

"Why?" Marquis' voice was ice.

"Well, look at him. He's a winner. Look at his track record."

"He's won some on local tracks. So what?"

"I wasn't looking at that sheet. Look at his rapsheet. He's been indicted once, for a parking ticket."

... "And?"

Stang gave Featbridge White Fluff Head a withering look. "Friend. He's a street racer. The kind of street racing I used to do. If you're good enough to win those races... and you're good enough not to get caught... you're the best."

Julian drummed his fingers. "You think so?"

"I know so."

"Fine. I guess it's settled, then, we'll sign this Paradystopian kid, Xeb Kallasun, as our second-seat driver. Any objections?"

There were none.

[Mytannion]

Schroeder clocks reasonable times in Lermendia; interest levels from Yogutz Lantzia unknown.

Andreas Schroeder made the trip to Lermendia to meet both the team bosses and also to clock some times in the car from last season, to show his credentials and possibly try and persuade the team to take him on as their second driver. Schroeder said of Lantzia owner, Urtun Sisko, "He's not as bad as everyone makes out, I arrived and he was friendly enough and he certainly didn't take on the approach many seemed to expect he would." Sisko is known as a bit of a hardnosed team boss around the WGPC and was expected to be even tougher on Schroeder, a Mytanar, a Rushmori rival. It seemed he took a rather different approach to this though as he treated Schroeder well and showed him around the headquarters in Lermendia.

Errando Katzuso was as meticulous as ever, taking measurements of pretty much everywhere on Schroeder's body, including his whole body, obviously and this took a long time as the assorted press waiting outside the main building had to wait for Schroeder to reemerge and make the relatively short drive out to the Akialden Ducal Autodrome on the city outskirts. Usually, Schroeder would have been required to drive 57 laps on the 5.355 kilometre circuit, with its 15 corners, but rather than the standard he drove just 20 laps and set some decent times - they were certainly respectable - in last season's car, which is a model that Yogutz Lantzia will certainly have built on for the coming season.

His fastest lap of the session was 1:30:89, which was nearly two seconds down on the lap record for this circuit, although Schroeder himself wasn't complaining - remaining calm, "Nobody expects you to go out and match lap records on every single lap, to do so would be quite simply stupid, I'm relatively pleased with that time but I do think I can go faster with a bit more time in the car." It's certainly a fast circuit, with Schroeder managing to consistently hit times in the low 1:31s.

The times aren't tremendous, simply reasonable and respectable, nothing too special as of yet. Schroeder was reliable as ever and didn't look like he would go off the track at any stage in the race or be involved in any controversy in the test drive. It remains unanswered whether or not Schroeder has the top level speed required to succeed at the highest level of auto racing in the world. This drive didn't really give a true indication on the answer at all, but it will be up to any potential employers on whether or not they're prepared to take the gamble on him.

On that topic, there has been absolutely zero indication from Yogutz Lantzia themselves on whether or not they are willing to throw their proverbial hat into the ring for Schroeder's services. They are keeping things very quiet and tight-lipped in Lermendia, so much so that they are not even commenting on whether they were impressed by Schroeder on his visit or not. It's all very secretive over in Astograth.

Schroeder has indicated himself that he'd also be interested by visiting the Polar Islandstates and having a test drive for Obeveklig-Farautoo. Yes, Vitaliy Aaltonen's Obeveklig-Farautoo. He's the one that would decide on his team's second driver so it would be him that Schroeder has to impress if he wants the job. He's doing enough 'brown nosing' through the media if that's the case:

"Obeveklig-Farautoo are an impressive team, they seem to have a very good car and that's just based on last season's evidence, any steps forward in technology for them could lead them to have the best car in the WGPC. Aaltonen? I don't think people give him enough credit, he's clearly a superb driver, he's insane and crazy at times, sure. But he is a skilled driver and there were times he demonstrated that last season, I'd like to drive alongside him, he'd be a better team mate than many make out, I'm sure."

Where Schroeder will end up remains unclear, he hasn't got anything official scheduled with Obeveklig-Farautoo and because Yogutz Lantzia remain silent, it's difficult to make any predictions. Could he end up unemployed? We're unsure, it's probably unlikely, with Schroeder having announced he wouldn't hesitate to accept a WGPC Works Team spot if it came to it. He'd likely have done enough to get a spot on one of their teams, with four seats being open for race-day and his resumé would probably be enough to impress them and get the spot. His future remains as cloudy as the Mytanar political situation and for outsiders who aren't in the know, that's pretty cloudy.

[Apox]

Matt Hingis paced up and down the small office that consisted of the Apoxian Motorsports Board. Apox had little in the way of funding for the motorsports industry, and so this was Matt's first big chance to move out into the wider world, and very much bigger world of motor racing, and to try and cut it with the big boys in the World Grand Prix Chmpionship.

Easier said than down, hell, just completing the application form to send off to team was taking forever.

Then you have to bear in mind the fact that there are many good and important drivers out there, coming in with more skill and refinement than him, coming from countries where motorsport wasn't actually just a fringe sports, countries where there was money and prestige in these sports of things. But he knew he had the drive and commitment to compete at this level, and more than anything, he knew he was ready to compete at this level.

He'd been improving over the years, until now, at the age of 24, he felt ready to take the next step up and move on from the crappy Apoxian racing circuits. At that moment the aide stepped out of the office, informing him that his application was complete.

[Falcania]

Allian had thought a lot about that night, his midnight flight from Stang Crax.

Well, it was worth a shot, wasn't it?

The money. Everything cost money... and that was one arena in which Allian knew he couldn't compete. Goldmund-Teller were one of the most prosperous corporations in the world, richer than some countries. Uncle's money was more than his family had ever known in their lives... and most of it had gone already, in the six months since they had first had that conversation on the bus. International race licences, travel permits, health certificates, visas... it all added up. Allian Marquis was two weeks away from his sixteenth hatchday, fully qualified to drive a WGPC car... and broke as a low shield, as the saying went.

But... he knew teams were interested in talent. It wasn't all about the money, was it?

He handed over a crisp ten-talon note for international shipping, and slid the thick envelope into the clerk's tray.

Destination: Vilita.

He still remembered the tingle up his arm as he wrote the words on the page.

"My name is Allian Marquis. I would be honoured if you would sign me for a seat in Vilita & Turori Motorsports."

[The Inevitable Syndicate]

Roger really wasn't impressed with the document he'd spat out onto the page. Half of it was taken from what others had written about him during his wins in the Syndicatian National Racing Championship, which really didn't garner much support from the general public. They were far more interested in the WGPC, and hopefully with the inclusion of Roger, they'd be interested even more. He took one last look over the e-mail, hovering over the send button...

To: [Mailing List: Potential Racing Teams?]
From: Roger Bunn <rbunn@bitnet.co.is>
Subject: Racing Driver Application
Attached File: r_bunn_curriculum_vitae.doc

Greetings Racing Teams,

I'm Roger Bunn, three-time winnner of the Syndicatian National Racing Champtionship. I'm writing to you today to ask you for a place in your racing team, preferably as a second driver. Of course, this is a blanket e-mail, so I can't specify, but you should be one of the following teams:

Vilita & Turori Motorsports
McPahan Racing Team
Goldmund-Teller

All three of you are exceptional racing teams I'd love to be a part of. But enough about you lot, here's me:

I was born and raised in the town of Magellan, Faiblands, The Inevitable Syndicate. I'm 26 years old always had an aptitude for driving, as my father was a developer at Synclair Automotive - they make AI systems for cars, and also have an SNRC team - and he helped install the AI systems into new cars. I used to go along to the factory at the weekends helping him test them out. I started karting at the age of 12, and quickly rose the ranks all the way up to being accepted into the SNRC. I initially raced for the Plattel-Greaves racing team, but after two seasons I transferred to Sinclair Automotive, and I've been there ever since. They don't do a WGPC team, however, so I felt I'd put myself out there for you guys to snap up. I'm an experienced an fantastic driver, it's been said - I'm quick off the mark, and can take corners like the best of them - but I can't lie to you, when I do something wrong, it often sets me back quite a bit. Not that that always happens, but a terrible accident with a wall did cost me and my team the win in my second season. That really should happen again, though, as the circuit I was racing on ended up being decommissioned. I'm very quick to react to changes in a race, and can often switch up my strategy in a pinch. I'd say I was a born leader, but I'm not one to dismiss orders from my team.

I hope that you'll at least give me a chance! I look forward to hearing from you,

Roger Bunn

It was rather cheesy, but it would have to do. Roger hated selling himself, he was more the kind of guy that would rather show you something than talk about it. But this had to be done.

He clicked the send button, and waited.

[Licentiapacisterra]

Lukas Forbes’ Home
Hessington Island, St Bartholomew’s Parish, Licentiapacisterra

It was a quiet day on the island that the professional race driver, Lukas Forbes, called home. There was a television van parked outside the house, along with Forbes’ West Motors convertible, and three people inside the house.

One was Forbes, the second was a cameraman, and the other was famed Licentian television reporter, Alexander Smyth.

“So, Mr Forbes...” Smyth was sat in the living room in the house with a glass of Seasogs.

“Please, call me Lukas.” Lukas sat down in his rocking chair, his own glass on the table next to him.

“Of course.” Smyth stroked his beard. “So, Lukas, how does it feel to see your old rival Bartosz McDonald joining the WGPC circuit, and as the lead driver of a Licentian team at that ??”

Forbes took a moment to reply. “I think it’s well documented that me and Bartosz don’t get on. I think everybody on the Islands knows about our bust-up a few years ago, and I can’t pretend that I like the guy. But, there’s still a mutual respect there, and I’m actually glad for the competition. So, I don’t think it’ll be too bad.”

“So, you don’t think that there will be a repeat of the last incident between you two, when there was a lot of brawling and cursing on live international television ??”

Forbes chuckled. “Well, I hope not.” He took a drink. “We’re both mature men, and I think we’re past that now. Plus, I don’t think I’ll be spending all that much time with Bart this season.”

Smyth considered the insinuation for a moment. “I may be wrong here, and apologies if I am, but are you implying that you won’t be racing for WM Barton this season ??”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” There was dead silence in the room for a few moments.

“But, what about the rumours that you won’t be racing for Obeveklig next season ?? Will you be a free agent going into this season ??”

“I can’t comment on that Alexander. If you want any news on that, you’ll have to look to the North. But I am certainly open to looking at my future in the WGPC.” Silence fell again.

“Well, it was a pleasure to interview you Lukas.”

“The pleasure was all mine Alexander.”

Smyth and the cameraman left the room, leaving Forbes to his thoughts.

WM Barton Race Team HQ
Houghton, Abingdon Parish, Licentiapacisterra

The evening air in HQ was punctuated by lots of cursing coming from Stuart Miller’s office.

Miller was in the room with various members of his team, and driver Bartosz McDonald.

“Just calm it Stuart. This isn’t the worst of our worries right now.” McDonald stood up from the corner of the room, and went to Miller, who struck out at the wall, scaring off Bartosz.

“I won’t fucking calm it. This twat has made us look like idiots on national TV, and you expect me to calm down ??”

McDonald sighed, then sat down again. “Stu, we need to think past Forbes. Who needs him anyway ?? Let’s have a look at this free agent list. I’ve picked a few names out that catch the eye.”

Miller looked at Bart’s list:

Johannes Fagerholm
Victor Hall
iBen Toralmintii
Roger Bunn
Matt Hingis
Matthew Portland
Malachy Byrne
Allian Marquis

“I need to add two guys that have contacted us asking for interviews.” Miller pulled a pen out of his pocket, and scribbled two names on the piece of paper.

Xeb Kallasdun
Einir Birkirsun

“Who ??” McDonald scratched his head at the names.

“I know, but we need to talk to them at least.” Miller sat down, finally calm. “Right, that’s it now. You can all piss off home. And that’s an order.”

The group chuckled at Miller, and left the room in single file.

If the name of your driver is mentioned in my RP, you are welcome to RP an interview with Mr Miller and Mr McDonald about a possible place for your driver on the WM Barton team. I’ll leave it down to you to describe how the two act in the interview, though you can probably gather a little from these conversations here. If you don’t choose to do an interview in the next week (the time that I will be away in the States, and therefore unable to RP substantially), I will take that as an indication that you don’t wish for your driver to be considered for the position.

Additionally, if your team would like to sign Forbes as a driver, get in touch with me by TG. Again, I’m not going to be able to do anything substantial for the next week, but I’ll try and get something to you in reply ASAP.

[Liventia]

Free agent signing period extended to April 4. Please note that WGPC Motorsport offers will be sent out on April 3. If any empty seats remain unfilled by the deadline (less the WGPC Motorsport teams), no further signings can be finalised until after the first race.

[Astograth]

“Tell me what you think, Errando. Honestly.”

The Yogutz Lantzia team principal cleared his throat and shuffled a few papers, ostensibly looking for the dossiers. He was never fully comfortable talking with Sisko, and this was a particularly delicate stage of the season.

“OK, options. Lots of options. First off: Schroeder, Andreas,” he said as he pulled out a sheet and set it in front, a picture of the young Mytanar attached to the top with a paperclip.

“Ah, yes, the Mytanar kid. I liked the look of him. Lively. Young. Marketable. And pretty fast you said?”

“Fast enough, very balanced showing at the track, no real complaints. No experience at WGPC level, though he didn't have any trouble in the 650. Good record, as you said very young, he knows this place well and we know him.”

“Part of the Young Driver Exchange Program, was he?”

“Yes, about five years ago. Went home, won the Mytanar Racing Championship aged 17. Won the Estanian Union GPC twice, raced for a bit in GP2 as well. More importantly, he's only 21, an incredible prospect, very much interested in us and well sponsored.”

Sisko leaned back in his chair and let out a short whistle, “Well that's hard to argue with. I liked him, but what else have we got?”

“Well, so far he's the only one to have arrived on our open offer to free agents that they approach us, though there's more who're planning to. Let's see now... Lukas Forbes,” said Katzuso, pulling out the Licentian's info-sheet.

“What, really? Forbes? The one from Farautoo?”

“Yep. Left the Polarian team, nobody's sure why, and WM Barton's not taking him either. Now, this guy won the Polarian GP and was on pole at Hessington, where he was third - I call that experience, at least at those two tracks, because he wasn't even in the best car. Problem is he finished outside the points seven times, including one retirement, which doesn't say good things about his consistency. Eighth in the championship, just between Enaut and Marc.”

“Hmph. Not sure what to say. Attractive option, but maybe too safe if you know what I mean.”

“Of course. Then... let's see.. here, Shayna Barstowe.”

“A woman.”

Katzuso paused, “Yes. Nova Cambrian.”

“Never heard of a good Nova Cambrian driver.”

“Her nationality doesn't really matter. She was third at the last Coupe Villeneuve - the Cotdelapomais championship - and is looking for a seat in the WGPC. Other than skill, which I can assure you she has, she seems to have a whole lot of money behind her; it's good publicity to sponsor a woman driver, especially an attractive one. Nauja was certainly helpful in that aspect last season...”

“If money and a third place in Cotdelapoms is the best she can do then the best I can offer is a test drive. We only have two cars and neither is going to a pay driver, you know that.”

“Perfectly aware. Just an option, you know.”

“Not overly impressed after you've shown me a Mytanar wonderkid and a Grand Prix winner.”

“Very well. Lee Rogers then.”

“He's back?!”

“I was just as surprised. Back from the dead, one might say. Not a star by any means, but that's a real veteran right there. Podiums, wins. Safe bet, though I'd really like to see him here at the Akialden Ducal. Make sure he's not rusty or anything.”

“Right. Call him up then, I'd be interested to see that too. Lee Rogers, wow.”

“Mhm. Have you heard of Alexandra Mayari, from Nekoni?”

“Not really, is she any good?”

“Yes. Hasn't been anywhere near the WGPC before, but she's young, attractive, distinctive, very determined and won the last edition of the 24 Hours of Varea. Not exactly the same as Grand Prix racing, but we can both agree that takes guts, endurance and a whole lot of skill.”

“Quite. She wants into the WGPC?”

“Yes. Looking to make the jump, as it were. Press reports don't mention any other teams moving in.”

“She sponsored.”

“Yeah, she's got a prestigious watchmaker behind her.”

“Interesting. Keep her on the shortlist, try to get in touch.”

“Will do. Now, Einur Birkirsun... this kid's amazing. Current champion of Bearded Moose - yeah, I know, not exactly the best-known nation in motorsport, but bear with me - this kid is seriously going around the teams with some hoot of a manager, interviewing for a seat. He's delusional!”

“Hm. Is he good though?”

“He's the Bearded Moose champion, what does that tell you?”

“I'm the one asking the questions here. Kid's got spirit at least. Is he in contact?”

“Yeah, he offered himself up already. Told him to come down to Lermendia so we can see what he's got, and that we'd take him seriously. So long as he can drive a good lap, that is, which I doubt. I mean, seriously, Bearded Moose. What kind of name is that.”

Urtun Sisko shrugged, and swivelled slightly in his chair, “Who else we got?”

“Not a whole lot more, mainly drivers just going off their names. Matthew Portland, for example, but who knows if he's still got it or it was just Carvenlo that was well above the pace. I mean, Morua took his car for one race and finished seventh, on his WGPC début. At this point I'd wager Portland's no that much higher than average. Otherwise we've got Juan Kermit from Darmen, Xeb Kallasdun from Paradystopia, whom we've been told is so reckless as to not be worth the trouble; Malachy Byrne from Ancharmunn, and iBen Toralmintii, but he had such a poor showing last season that I don't know who he's expecting to sign with.”

“So... basically six options for second and third driver?”

“Schroeder, Forbes, Barstowe, Rogers, Mayari and Birkirsun is six, yes. The top six I'd recommend. Feel like making a decision right away?”

“Hmmm... no. No, let's not be rash. Let them know we're interested, try to get them down here, and we'll see. For now, though, I'd say Schroeder's my man for the second seat, and for test driver we might be able to get any of the others except Forbes, unless he's really desperate. We'll see.”

[Paradystopia]

Xeb had been out driving all night blasting along the mountainous roads in Northern Paradystopia and weaving along country lanes. He imagined himself in the cockpit of a formula one car, visualising all the corners he'd learnt from watching the sport on television.

Left, left and then accelerate through the right. Finishing chicane at Nekoni International
Right hairpin, then into the easy left and on towards the speed trap. Turns 16 & 17 of the Talbott Autodrome
Go, go, go then brake. Shit! Too fast. Hold it, hold it ... hit the apex and accelerate through. Phew ... Iturributa Street Circuit, turn 1.

This continued through the night until he finally had to accept his fuel tank was running low and his eye-lids were threatening to droop. His mind wandered to the conversation with his mother ... was she actually his mother? Well, she was the closest thing to a mother he was ever likely to have outside of that embezzling scientist and they did share some form of DNA. He pinched himself. Ow! Then again, this time drawing blood. Arrgh! Shit! How human was he? He felt human and he'd never suspected he was otherwise. Were clones human anyway, technically speaking?

Maybe it was the convoluted thought process, maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was both, but he began to get a headache. Now is definitely the time to head home ...

Was it his home? Was he allowed a home? Arrgghh! ... clones ...

It was nearly mid-morning by the time he reached home. A quiet suburban street just outside of Farosmont. As he pulled up he noticed his mother's face at the window, dark bags beneath her eyes indicated that she had been up all night also. Dolefully, he exited the car and made for the front door only to be accosted before he had chance to retrieve his key.

"Xebby! Darling, I been so worried."

Mik flung herself upon him, embracing him in such a way only a mother can.

"Hey mum"

Xeb reciprocated the hug. It was comforting to point his anxieties effervesced to nothingness.

"You've had some mail dear. Falcanian stamps on one."
"What?!"
"The return address is for Goldmund-Teller Falcanian Motorsport Limited, By Royal Appointment"
"No way!"

With this, Xeb broke free from his mother's arm and dashed into the house. Seizing the awaiting envelope from the dining table, he paused momentarily to behold it. Was it an offer? It could be a rejection ... but would they even go to the trouble of sending his notification of that? He tore apart the envelope.

" ... fuck ... "
"What is it? Bad news dear?"
" ... I've ... I've been offered the second driver seat ... "

His hands shook as he tried to comprehend what was happening.

"That's brilliant darling."
"It's ... it's ... unbelievable! ... "
"There's another letter too you know ..."

A second envelope lay upon the table, also addressed to Xeb.

"Vilita and Turori?"
"Wasn't that Stang Crax's old team?"
"Yeah ... I ... "

Xeb broke off and tore into the envelope.

"Wow!"
"What is it?"

He skimmed through the text

" ... and we at Vilita & Turori F1 cordially enquire if you wish to participate in the test session competing for one of their two open driver seats? ... "
"Wow!"
"That's what I said ... "
"So what's it to be?"
"Goldmund-Teller"
"You don't want to be too hasty Xeb ... "
"Mum ... I've been offered second seat next to Stang Crax! Whereas Vilita & Turori F1 have only invited me to a test session ..."
"But they're the team that took Stang to the top ... "
"But ... Stang Crax! ... "
"Look honey. It's your decision. I'll support you in whatever choice you make. I just don't want you to make a mistake."
"I've made up my mind. I'm signing myself up as second-seat driver with Goldmund-Teller."
"Well, you better get packing then. What's the weather like in Falcania?"
"Err ... I dunno ... Mum! I'm going to be driving alongside Stang Crax! ..."
"I know dear. I'll get the large suitcase ... "

And for a moment, Xeb couldn't care less that he was a clone. It didn't matter. He could be one of those strange Lymryker Pteronurians for all he cared right now.

[Liventia]

For immediate release
Carvenlo Motor Racing and team principal Frederik Helmarsson are pleased to confirm the finalised driver lineup for the coming 12th World Championship season.

The team are delighted to announce the re-signing of Starblaydi former world champion Jai Kardaeri for a second season. Jai will take the lead driver's seat and will race in car number three (#3). Jai won the drivers' championship in the 8th World Championship and has raced for Mirrors F1 and Globo/Velog F1, and has 16 career podium finishes.

Carvenlo are also excited to confirm the signing of Astograth's Sotil Morua to the second driver's seat this season. Sotil, who will race in car number four (#4), has a season's worth of World Championship testing behind him and competed in last championship's Starblaydi Grand Prix, where he finished in the points in seventh.

We would like to thank Matthew Portland for his contributions to the team last season and wish him well for this season and the future.

Carvenlo are also happy to announce that we have approached Sotil Morua's friend and compatriot, Ekain Okendo, to take up the test driver position at the team.

[Flevans]

Lee Rogers returned to his home at 8 A.M., having just completed a 10k run in a hair under 40 minutes to start off his day. He re-entered his home, to see his wife and manager Alice Rogers already had his breakfast prepared and the morning's mail right alongside it. Lee greeted her with a kiss, after which she directed his attention to the mail.

"Later," he mumbled.

"I really think you should the top letter at the very least," she insisted.

"Breakfast, shower, then mail," Lee sat down at the table.

"You're definitely going to want to read this one as soon as possible," Alice picked up the top letter and placed it right in front of his face. Lee finally relented, taking the letter and opening it without even bothering to check who it was from.

Dear Mr. Rogers, blah blah blah Yogutz Lantzia WGPC team yadda yadda-- wait. Waiiiit just a second. Yogutz Lantzia!? They were offering him... well, not a drive per se, but an interview; well, that was his best bet yet. The closest he'd been to being back on the grid in years... He hadn't counted on Yogutz Lantzia switching up their lineup - Enaut Londoso and Marc Rangneri had been a solid for the team. Evidently, they had had enough of Rangneri - for whatever reason - and dropped him. With Revel-Celestar not returning, Yogutz Lantzia were now the 3rd best team, and were surely looking at making a major step in order to challenge Carvenlo and Vilita & Turori.

This was his big chance. For nearly a year now, he had been bombarded with contract offers to join the FRS - but Lee had no interest in a national-level series. He'd been at the top. Returning there was his only priority. He'd trained relentlessly in the intervening period - he was at peak fitness, and he was as hungry as ever to win. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd blow whatever competition he had away.

The house had fallen silent for a few moments, before Alica piped up, "So, what do you think, Lee?"

"I think we want to go to Lermendia as fast as possible."

"Great! I've already started looking at flights to Rumiatzi..."

It was only a matter of time now, soon surely he'd be back and ready to take his place among the greats...

[Ancharmunn]

Grand impressions were something of a Cole McCleary businessman and once again he had excelled in that field. Thousands of holidaymakers, businessmen and various other members of the public may not have been happy at him having single-handedly caused Ballyfeeaknock International Airport to shut down for the morning, but feck them, he had a WGPC team to launch, and how better to launch it than with a race down the runway between an Aer Ancharine jet and a race-car from the new team sponsored by that same airline?

In the interest of promoting both of McCleary's ventures the two legged race, once up the runway and once down it, had been a tie with one win apiece. Nonetheless the spectacle had caused got the stir among the gathering of journalists invited along. All vetted beforehand to make sure they could be trusted to laud McClearly and his team, though mainly McCleary. Try as he might however, the event wasn't solely about McCleary. No one had been the least bit surprised when Donal O'Connell stepped out of the gleaming red and green Aer Ancahrine Motorsport Racing car to announce himself as the team's lead driver upon the completion of the car vs. plane races. Signing up O'Connell as a 'brand ambassador' had been one of Aer Ancharine's very first order of business upon their founding a year or so back. With their backing O'Connell had established himself not as a top WGPC driver, but certainly one to watch with an impressive second half of the 11th WGPC season. Now back, and with even more of McCleary's money behind him the consensus was that if he was a good driver, he'd now be able to challenge at the very top.

The debate on that particular line of thought however would wait, with the team's three most notable faces, that of backer McCleary, driver O'Connell and the brains behind the technical aspects in team principle Malachy Byrne Snr. assembling together the journalists had one question they wanted an answer to.

“Who will be joining Donal in racing for the team?” numerous numbers of them shouted various forms of over one another.

“There's a number of extremely good drivers available and we will be considering what aspects each of them will bring to a team in order to find the right fit for us.” Byrne announced.

It was a bland and dull answer that offered absolutely nothing. Byrne it seemed was taking to the reigns of management like a duck to water. McCleary however could always be trusted to come up with something.

“I want Stang Crax.”

The media looked at each other unsure, Byrne and O'Connell rolled their eyes at each other in a knowing manner. The silence allowed McCleary to carry on.

“Now, I can see what you're thinking, Stang's the world champion and that the Goldmund-Teller team has been built around him. That means nothing to me, he's the best in the world, I want to build the best team in the world, and I didn't get to where I am now and not get what I've wanted.”

Byrne knew full well though that this time at least McClearly wouldn't be getting what he wanted, and so with the media engrossed in listening to his manager discreetly checked his phone, hoping for some sort of reply to some of those who Aer Ancharine might actually have a chance of getting. Lukas Forbes, Shayna Barstowe, Andreas Schroeder, Roger Bunn, Johannes Fagerholm and Juan Kermit had all been sounded out, and though someone was trying to get hold of Byrne Snr. it was none of them.

The caller ID refused to reveal the number, but Aer Ancharine's team principle knew full well that his son had worked out how to hide his number. No doubt he'd be begging to be given a ride as a family favour. No way was that happening, if Malachy Jnr. wanted in on WGPC action he'd have to do so by being challenged to prove himself on his own merit. Malachy Snr. clicked reject and turned his attention back to the press corps awaiting an answer to their latest question.


–

'Come on, pick up already.' the young lad muttered to himself as he sat waiting in a plush office overlooking the Ballyfeeaknock waterfront. Waiting not just for an answer at the other end of the phone, but also for Finbar Kenny. Malachy Byrne Jnr. Was starting to think that Donal O'Connell had suggested this particular agent as some sort of cruel joke. He had remembered that O'Connell's praise of him had been faint, but at the end of the day he had managed to do his job and get him a drive in the WGPC last season. If he could do the same for Malachy then once again he'd have done his job. It'd just be nice Kenny could do it a lot better and a lot more efficiently.

Though finally, just as another of Malachy's calls went unanswered Kenny finally turned up.

“Hey Finn, any chance I can borrow your phone? My dad's not picking up.”

“You're not still bothering with Aer Ancharine are you? Your dad's already made it clear he's not considering you.”

“Pft, he's just saying that, anyway given the amount I've got out of you it seems like the best chance of getting a drive.”

“Oh really? So I'll just have to give BrennickSport and Yogutz Lantzia a call and tell them thanks, but no thanks, you're not bothered with meeting them then. Shame that, as BrennickSport in particular seemed rather interested. Might as well throw this ticket to Polar Islandstates away as well. Disappointing that, I hear Torshavn's lovely at this time of year.”

“Woah, woah, hold on, you've got meetings with them set up?”

“BrennickSport and Yogutz Lantzia, yes. Obeveklig-Farautoo I figure we just 'coincidentally' bump into Vitaliy Aaltonen and take him out for a nice meal or something.”

“Then what are we doing sitting around here arguing for? Honestly, I wonder what the hell I'm paying you for sometimes. Let's get going.”

[Eastfield Lodge]

Driver Profile: Victoria Gardner

Age: 21
Place of Birth: Port Lodgertia, Eastfield Lodge

Victoria was always a quiet girl that few people her age cared about, with her parents having split up shortly after her birth, and as a result, she always was left on her own for long periods during her childhood, only with her older brother Anthony keeping her company. Anthony's love of motor racing was infectious; he and Victoria would often spend weekends on hilltops near racetracks with binoculars, just watching the action unfold before their eyes, or by the side of the road as rally cars drifted past in a cloud of dust and gravel.

Her first proper racing opportunity came after she won a national competition on a racing game, which the top few prizes were a chance to try out for a karting team in one of the national championships. She quickly impressed them with her steady, but calculated and clever, driving style; and with her developing looks, she quickly rose to the top of Lodgertian motor racing, racing alongside Louis Krindle in the SinVal team which finished third in the Championship. Unlike Krindle, she decided to stay with the team, and with newfound sponsors and the prize money that came from that season, the car's performance improved dramatically. As a result, the team finished second in the Championship (quite far behind the now invincible MSM), with Victoria snatching second place from Krindle's teammate at the final race in her home town of Port Lodgertia.

The team maintained that level of consistency, and the following season, Victoria finished in second place again, but this time by a more comfortable margin. But possibly the most critical moment in her career came in that off-season, when she was attending the Port Lodgertia circuit as part of the NSGP calendar. Seeing her childhood racing idol Alexander Tingis nearly die in the crash on corners 4/5 (that guy gets around a lot, doesn't he?) affected her own driving style in a rather interesting way. She started driving a shade or so slower, but became more and more calculating with every race, cutting off the easy moves for other drivers even before they began making them. And on top of all that, she became more reliable, on top of what she was initially; in other words, if nothing goes wrong with the car and the other drivers behave, then she's almost guaranteed to bring the car home.

[Vilita]

13 Drivers Turn Laps at Eelandii

In preparation for the one-day test session at the Vilitan Mountain Challenge Course, 13 drivers traveled to Eelandii to christen the Grand Prix Course in Turori for its maiden laps.

By invitation from Vilita & Turori Motorsports to get an early look at the contenders for its two open driver slots for the upcoming World Grand Prix Championships, drivers from all over the multiverse converged on Turori for the chance to run just 20 unsanctioned laps in identically prepared outdated chassis models.

It is likely that the same 13 drivers will participate in a 1-Day Trial session at the Vilitan Mountain Challenge Course where team officials will looks to decide who will occupy the two remaining slots in the Vilita & Turori Motorsports Roster for the upcoming 12th World Grand Prix Championships.

It was in the 1-Day trial just one season ago that Falcania's Stang Crax was discovered, piloting his way to the #2 seat in the VTF1 lineup and eventually to a world championship. Amongst the competitors in Eelandii was another young Falcanian, Allian Marquis, with a huge name to live up to and a lot to prove.

In addition to Marquis, Turori's iBen Toralmintii, Polar Islandstates Johannes Fagerholm, Bearded Moose's Einur Birkirsun and Nekoni's Alexandra Mayari were expected to post the top times in the session.

The other attendees were James Ferguson of Tyrants, Matt Hingis of Apox, Holt Freezer of Mangolana, Shayna Barstowe of Nova Cambria, Andreas Schroeder of Mytannion, Narein Sugumaran of Subramani, Roger Bunn of the Inevitable Syndicate and Lee Rogers of Flevans.

Each driver will have their eyes on the second seat along side Vilaye Energy Drinks driver R.L. Cruisin. While the VTF1 crew will certainly be eyeing the most talented driver in the test sessions, the reality of the sport is that those drivers bringing sponsorship with them are likely to get extra consideration. Thankfully, however, championship success brought a boost in funding from Vilaye and other associate sponsors for season 12.

EELANDII SHAKEDOWNS
Total Time - 25 Laps

--------------------------------------------
1. [FLC] Allian Marquis
2. [TIS] Roger Bunn
3. [PIS] Johannes Fagerholm
4. [FLV] Lee Rogers
5. [BDM] Einur Birkirsun
6. [MYT] Andreas Schroeder
7. [TUR] iBen Toralmintii
8. [NEK] Alexandra Mayari
9. [MNG] Holt Freezer
10. [APX] Matt Hingis
11. [SUB] Narein Sugumaran
12. [TYR] James Ferguson
13. [NCM] Shayna Barstow
--------------------------------------------

On track at Eelandii, it was the Falcanian who stole the show. Each driver was given 25 laps on the course with either 3 or 4 drivers on course at any given time. The first session saw James Ferguson, Matt Hingis and Holt Freezer on track, each putting up one of the slower 25-lap runs of the day with the track being perhaps too fresh for their runs. Local hero iBen Toralmintii piloted during session 2 along with Shayna Barstow and Andreas Schroeder. Schroeder and Toralmintii both bested the times posted in the first group but Barstow struggled somewhat and would have the slowest time of the day.

The third group saw the highly rated Johannes Fagerholm unsurprisingly move his name atop the leaderboard while Nekoni's Alexandra Mayari posted a time just behind Toralmintii and Schroeder. Narein Sugumaran's 25 lap time bested just 2 other competitors. Due to the odd number of drivers on location, the final grouping consisted of four drivers. Whether due to the talent brought to the table by each of the competitors or simply due to the time of day and rubber getting laid down on the track, each of the four drivers in the final group placed themselves in the top 5 times. Falcania's Allian Marquis topped the scoreboard with The Inevitable Syndicate's Roger Bunn close behind in a bit of a surprise run. Lee Rogers of Flevans posted the 4th best total time, just behind Fagerholm, and Einur Birkirsun of Bearded Moose was 5th.

With the brief Eelandii shakedown complete, most, if not all of the drivers will make the short hop over to Vilita for the Vilita & Turori Motorsports open test session. It is unclear if additional drivers will attend, or if any will drop out prior to the trial. Many will be looking to see if the likes of Lukas Forbers or Matthew Portland, both surprisingly on the free agent market, decide to make an appearance at the trial session.

The trial at the Vilitan Mountain Challenge Course will last for one day only, with a meet & greet over breakfast in the morning followed by two warmup sessions before lunch. Drivers will have the opportunity to suggest changes to the cars, which will all be provided by Vilita & Turori Motorsports, after each session.

The drivers will then break for a working lunch where they will have an open forum to discuss the track and the vehicles, and how to improve their speeds prior to the time trial session that will begin following lunch.

There will be a final 3 hour session following the time trials. Prior to the final session, the drivers will be polled to see if they would like the final session to be a simple practice session, or treated as a race. The drivers will be warned prior to the final session that, should they choose to compete, they will be responsible for all damages to the Vehicle resulting from accidents or off-course excursions. Vilita & Turori Motorsports will be responsible for any mechanical issues that should arise.

[Bearded Moose]

As I lay my head on my pillow, the lot of experiences crossed my mind once more. The past few days had been a rollercoaster of questions, answers and drives. The constant tension and focus had resulted in headaches and even the noise of the traffic outside caused the room to spin a little faster. Ironically, the only soothing moment had been behind the wheel. It wasn’t the driving that had been tingling my nerves after all, but the constant feeling of being surrounded by people who could make or break my career.

“Here, I’m not sure what this is but according to the girl at the desk it helps against headaches. Not sure either what the information leaflet is saying, it seems to be written in a quadrillion languages. She’s got fine eyes, that cheeky woman. She wanted it, that’s for sure.”

Before his final statement, Otar had tossed me a bottle of source water from the deepest mountains of Vilita –or at least, that’s what the wrapper said- and a little carton box with small, yellow pills. They tasted as if a lemon had been fused with a bathroom floor.

“Thank god, the end of the signing period is close, Otar. Then I finally can focus on racing instead of trying to convince businessmen about my skills.”
“The WGPC has extended the signing period with four days. Four more days of opportunities, man! You think she would love red?”
“What?”
“If she would love red?”
“Who?”
“The girl from the desk, obviously, you never listen? Throw me that phonebook, I’ve got to find some place nice around here.”

At first I wasn’t quite amused by Otars attempts to date every less prude girl we had met along our travels, but his little try for a date night gave me the time to set my thoughts back in the correct order.

….

Three days ago, I received a letter. Regular stuff, you would expect, but nothing of such liking. As most race-related post went through Otars hands and were embellished with emblems, headers and perfumed paper, this was a simple hand-written note. It was offered me by some kid while I was sitting in my pub in Franz Josef Stadt. Calling it your pub after your second visit is maybe a bit preposterous, but when young lads with big briefcases know they can find you there, it must be your hotspot. Otar was still recovering from one of his romantic escapades –a secretary who worked for Farautoo, he claimed, afterwards it appeared she just had failed for a solicitation test a year ago- and I was bathing in the mild morning sun. The boy have me the letter without much ado and if I hadn’t had my quick reactions, I wouldn’t have gotten the time to give something in return.

The letter itself was short and hand-written. The author clearly had put every word on a chemists’ scales. Remarkably enough, that author was Vitaliy Aaltonen himself. I had to read through it thrice before the words finally connected to my brain. Aaltonen, the man with the keys to a Farautoo in his hand…
Surprisingly, the tone was overall indecisive, but if one sentiment struck me during reading, it must have been the cordiality with which it was written. This weren’t the writings of the annoyed brat the papers had presented him for, but rather the confessions from a man who was dropped in unknown territory. I only realised that during the third read, when I saw the tension in each point, the little bit of doubt in each comma. The message nonetheless, could be summarized in a simple sentences. ‘You could make a fine teammate, so why don’t you come over for a test drive.’
Presuming it was as unusual in Polar Islandstates to hug random people passing by as it was back home, I just limited myself to a smothered howl of excitement. When we limited the list to only a few teams, this one had been on top of it all along. As Otar had advised me to not put all my eggs in one basket, I tried to keep all options open but this was a unique chance to show Aaltonen what I had. Urging the boy not to run off –which means convincing him with a bar of chocolate-, I took the nearest napkin and started to write.

Hi Vitaliy

A moment of musing later, I had taken a second napkin.

Hello mister Aaltonen,

I want to thank you for your letter which I have received with great joy. I’ld love to take up the opportunity to take a test drive with the excellent FE-X240 and to talk with you about the goals of the Obeveklig-Farautoo team.

Greetings,
Einur

Not much of a masterpiece of literature, but neither the texture of the napkin nor the plumb pencil I borrowed from the waitress allowed me to write a classic here. Furthermore, the kid had finished his bar and wanted to get going again.

When he came back with a fixed moment for the drive, Otar already had finished his short lived love affair and informed me upon my new schedule. The timing for the test drive came perfect, after a few other events Otar had put me up with. One side of me wanted to stay here, but if I would screw up the test drive, I wouldn’t have nothing left. I wasn’t the only one trying to convince the nine teams of his capacities. The life of a free agent left no time for waiting at that liberating phone call, you had to show your face wherever you could. Or at least, that the type of popular wisdom Otar tried to spread.

…

“So, Birkirsun was the name, right?”
“That is correct, mister.”

The man who had introduced himself as ‘mister MacDonald’ sat in a leather seat, while the other one was standing against the wall. Although MacDonald did the talking, it was clear that he wasn’t the one that would make the decisions.

“So, tell me something about your racing experience, kid.”
“Well… I’ve been racing for four years now, making my way to the top.”

Otar, who had been impressed by the luxurious furniture in the office upon that moment, couldn’t help himself from hopping in.

“And the top, dear misters, that means THE top. In all fair honesty, this man is the best you can get that isn’t already riding around in a WGPC-car.”

My look should’ve been a clear indication that he better kept that kind of opinions for himself, but he seemed to be on fire.

“You might say, ‘champion of Bearded Moose, what’s the value of that’, well, dear misters, I can tell you one thing and that is this. Making it in that championship, with a car of lesser quality, is hard. Hard as a rock in a mountainous area, man! Hard as a slab of concrete on a fresh highway, you get me? Hard as…”
“If you say one more word, this conversation is over.”

It had been the first thing the man in the subtle black suit had spoken, but it didn’t miss its consequences. Otar hardly dared to touch his drink during what was left of the conversation, let alone he would think about coughing. Quite the manager I have. After an uncomforting silence, McDonald took back the lead in the conversation.

“I hope you realise we’ve got quite some ambition this year. WM Barton was set up with the goal to bring home some victories to Licentian racing. How could you contribute to this, as the list with potential is long this year? Very long.”
“Ehm…”

No choking, Einur, no choking.

“Well, I think. I’m good in cornering. Not to say you’re not good in it! No, no… That’s not what I mean to say. What I intend to say is that, well… I could be an addition cause I’m a different driver. Possibly. I think.”

As two school boys who had been caught chewing gum behind the bushes, Otar and I were sitting in the leather chairs.

“You’ve got some times on a known track, something we can compare?”
“Ehm… Not yet. But I’ve got some testing on the way…”
“I see.”

McDonald left a short but deafening silence after every questions.

“And do you or your… manager” he spoke this word as if it was an itchy, venereal disease, “have any additional asset to put on the table. Not necessarily financial, some know-how or fine marketing could be interesting as well.”
“Ehm… Not yet?”
“I see.”

Another silence.

“Well, you will certainly hear something from us later on. We’ll keep on following you, that’s for sure.”
“Thank you very much, mister McDonald. Mister Miller.”

We shook hands, but even before the door was slammed, I could hear the whispering voice from McDonald, “I hope we’ve had the biggest fruitcake from your list, cause if they’re going to top that, we should just sign my little nephew.”

If only I had received the opportunity to convince them with my driving, I was thinking, while some assistant on high heels was leading us to the way out. How on earth could I prove myself if I wasn’t behind the wheel. I couldn’t stop pondering if I should have said different things. I didn’t even had the chance to say that I had no problem with being in the shadows of the first driver, or just being a test driver.

“Girl, did you know that two fingers of vodka, a pinch of lemon, three drops of martini, a slice of orange, a decilitre of cassis and your eyes would make a great cocktail?”

Oh for Pete’s sake, Otar, not now.

…

Flights, flights, flights. I hardly had managed to deal with the jetlag from setting foot in Rumiatzi when I had to hop into a plane for Lermendia already. Located in the east of Astrograth, the town was carved in the hills that were typical for the area.
The contact with Sisko was short and clear. Urtun Sisko didn’t come across as the type of guy that left time in his schedule for chitchatting and if he got one message across, it was that he wanted to make his team step up and compete for the title. This ambition did not include a lot of crashes and when he was going through my résumé –I could say a lot of negative stuff about Otar the last few days, but he had done a good job whilst I was sleeping during the final flight- he couldn’t help but notice the amount of RET in my results.

“I realise my amount of unfinished races is rather high but…”
“But Einur has been driving low-quality cars so far. With the new Lantzia 654, this will no longer be a problem of course.”

Otar started to get the hang of this, while I wanted to crawl back in the earth. Or behind a wheel, at least. Although Sisko hadn’t been unfriendly at any moment, I felt a lot more confident around Katzuso. Whilst leading us through the headquarters, I revived. Otar obviously had lost interest, but I enjoyed the way Katzuso spoke with love and dedication about the new car. He couldn’t provide a lot of details about the 654 –company secrets, of course- but what I saw was more than interesting. He seemed happily surprised with my knowledge and interest in engines and whilst Otar was sunbathing, we went over the details from the 650.

Twenty laps. Apparently, that was enough for the previous guy to get as close as 1s72 to the track record. Schroeder was his name and if I had to believe the paper I found at Rumitzia airport, he left quite a fine impression.
As I had decided to use the first four laps to get used to the car, I still hadn’t found out which would be the best tactic for what followed. Both Sisko and Katzuso had located themselves at the finish line in order to witness my performance. Going in lap five, they hadn’t seen a lot of interesting stuff so far.
Damned! Lap nine and once again, I hadn’t been able to move past turn number nine properly. Each time, I had been hitting the breaks a bit too early, which slowed me down for the rest of the section. Otars voice through the headset tried to keep up my mood, but it was clear that things had to change.

“1’31”88, times are getting better lap by lap, just keep building up, mate, keep on focusing.”

That was just ridiculous. Why did this not work? Driving past the stands again, I saw that Katzuso had left his spot already. Probably, he had seen enough. But the fact that Sisko still was there, in the same position, monitoring each piece of information that reached his computer, gave me the courage to clear things up.

“Lap 12 was a 1’31”17, now we’re on a roll. Keep this up, buddy!”

That was fine, but not fine enough. I still was stuck with the dilemma I had been racing with the whole session. Should I aim for a better time than Schroeder or for better consistency? Their ‘no losing’ aimed for the first thing, but their motto included a ‘no crashing’. Another time through turn nine. I still hadn’t found the sweatspot, but it went better time by time.

“1’31”07, fifth lap below 1’31”50, only five more laps to go.”

If they wanted consistency, that probably had found it along with Schroeder. They had been following that guy for quite some time now, they knew him already. His list of accomplishment was longer than any list of groceries I could afford with my current sponsor budget. I had to surprise. Coming into the ninth one with a lot more speed than previously, I only braked last second. The car slipped a little and my countersteering only resulted in an awkward drift. Only by throwing all the strength my muscles could bare into the wheel, I avoided a crash.

“1’35”95, not a problem, everyone could have a lesser moment.”

The pressure dropped off my shoulders. They wouldn’t be interested no more and ironically, this improved my driving. Lap seventeen was good, eighteen was great and I moved quite a bit below 1’31” during the final one.

“1’30”66, this is getting somewhere!”

The last lap and I felt free as a bird. Corner by corner, I pinched a small piece of a second of my best time. Both section one and section two set a personal record, but then I overdid it and almost missed turn 14. 1’31”04 was good, but it could’ve been a lot better.

After all, they said I would certainly hear from them, but I didn’t leave with something on paper.

…

The humming sound of engine was kind of comforting, in fact. I was glad I was behind the wheel although I wasn’t sure what I was driving. Otar had said I couldn’t let this opportunity go past as this was how Stang Crax was discovered. He participated in the 1-Day Trial and suddenly, he was World Champion. At least, that was how he pictured and I could imagine the amount of steps between those two accomplishments.
Nonetheless, I was happy to be here. Even if the team of the reigning world champion wouldn’t be interested in what I had to offer –which was quite likely, as the finest free agents of the multiverse were here, with the exception of Forbes and Portland, who were probably too experienced for this genre of exercise- I could position myself vis-à-vis against the other competitors.

Three sets of guys had gone before me. Fagerholm and Schroeder had the best times, not much of a surprise to be fair, but after all this was just the shakedown. An exercise, if you wish, for the real work. Looking to my left and right, I noticed the ambition of Allian Marquis, the calmth of Roger Bunn and the concentration on the face of Lee Rogers. Marquis was whispered to be the favourite for the spot, to be ‘the next big thing’. Bunn seemed less known, but due to our shared interest in technique, we had a friendly chat before the Vilita & Turori officials had given the welcome presentation. Amongst the other free agents, Lee Rogers was seen as a hero. Fairly honest, most couldn’t understand why a double GP winner like him hadn’t found a seat already. He still had the focus of a youngster, maybe a bit too much focus.
The green light was presented and we dashed off. Having my escapades in Lermendia in mind, I knew that the most important thing would be to keep this thing running and to avoid any close encounters with the walls. If I wanted to impress, I could go for it during the actual Trial session. I couldn’t help but hope it would be a race, as this would separate the man from the boys –or the woman from the girls, if you prefer- more than any practice.
This realisation in mind, I focused on keeping all four wheels on the ground and practising my cornering. Some laps were quite nice and I must say that this brand-new track was more than enjoyable. Nothing crazy, just a good combination of acceleration and turns. Throughout the session, it became clear that Marquis was full of ambition. Like a hare, he pressed it full throttle and even moved to car to its limits. Bunn seemed intrigued by this and decided to join this wild dance. Only Rogers kept focused on keeping a steady pace. As it was never wrong to steal with your eyes, I spend most of the session behind him, trying to figure out what made the difference between a simple free agent and a GP winner. It was educating, that’s for sure.

“Hey, why you came in last of your group? It comes across so… losing, you now?”
“Calm down, Otar, I know what I am doing. I’ve learned quite some things today and that fifth place wasn’t much of a set-back, I can assure you that. Fifth out of thirteen means you’ve beaten most of them. The Test session is what counts, so I haven’t done crazy things yet.”
“Most haven’t, I think. Everyone seems afraid to show the back of his tongue.”
“Except for Marquis and Bunn,” I smiled. “We’ll be fine.”

…

So there I was, in a Vilitan hotel, trying to swallow away another lemon-bathroom pill. Between that moment and the moment Otar arrived with lipstick marks on his collar, I dreamt about my practice laps in the Polar Islandstates. I just had aced the Parabolske when Otar stumbled in, dropping his keys in the ashtray with a devilish sound.

“Keep on dreaming, racer boy. Your dreaming might actually get us in a seat one day. Could you imagine it, man? I’m wearing a white tuxedo, winking to some girl ‘you see that shy dude in the corner, that’s a WGPC racer’. Whattadadi say? A GP winner. And then I’ll take that lasses hand and say ‘I made him and I can make you to’. Hell, I’ll shag the f…”

The rest of his litany was smothered in his pillow and soon, all I would hear was a rhythmic breathing. Drunk as a pig, he was. I hope he hadn’t said any uncomfortable things in the pits today, I thought, before closing my eyes and wondering about how it would go at the Vilitan Mountain Challenge Course…

[Apox]

Matt Hingis had been busy over the last couple of weeks, as he applied for various race teams.

He had been involved in a test session at the new Eelandii circuit in Turori, testing out for the Vilita and Turori Motorsports Team. He hadn't done fantastically, but at least he wasn't last, finishing 10th out of 13, not a bad position seeing as these were some of the top drivers, many of whom would go on to race for top teams. Next up he will have a trial session at the Vilitan Mountain Challenge Course where presumably the second driver will be picked.

And that wasn't the only trials/testing he'd undergone, he'd made the short trip to Licentiapacisterra for an interview with the heads of the WM Barton race team about taking the second driver position there. It had gone as follows;

MacDonald: Welcome to Licentiapacisterra Mr. Hingis, please take a seat.

Hingis: Thank you, it's a pleasure to be here.

MacDonald: So first off, why should we hire you to become the second driver on the WM Barton team?

Hingis: Well, I' quite an all rounded character, both in and out of the car. While my driving isn't always the fastest, I don't crash all that often and I don't often have problems when driving, which I find makes up for the slightly slower speed. Only slightly mind, I'm not that slow. I also have a passion for racing, it's what I live for really, and when I'm not on the racetrack, be a crummy small town Apoxian one, or a WGPC certified circuit, I'll be hungering to get back on. It's all about the thrill, the risk-taking, being part of a team that I love. You can be sure I'd give everything for the team should I become the second driver at WM Barton.

Miller: Thank you, what other teams are you currently interested in?

Hingis: I'm keeping my options open as it stands, and as you know I'm sure, I've been part of the testing for Vilita and Turori Motorsports, and I'm staying open to interest from other teams, for the moment at least.

MacDonald: What competitive edge do you think you have over the other drivers that will lead you to succeed?

Hingis: Well, as I said I'm quite a reliable choice, but at the same time, I'm not afraid to take risks, if I need to and if it will help me better my chances. I get quite adrenaline filled, which helped to sharpen my judgement when I'm racing.

MacDonald: Thank you Mr. Hingis, that's all for now.

[The Inevitable Syndicate]

Eelandii. Has a certain flavour to it's name, Bunn thought, as he stepped into the building in which Vilita & Turori Motorsports were to brief the driver about this test race, the precursor to the Mountain Challenge. As he sat in the lobby, he noticed the other drivers. There was the Falcanian, Allian Marquis, probably looking to be as good as his predecessor, Stang Crax. After all, Crax had done something like this, and now he was the incumbent world champion! Roger looked at the large map of the course that had been displayed in the lobby. He noticed another man, Einur Birkirsun, studying it as well, and decided to have a talk with him. The general concensus was that while the track has it's fair share of fast straights, this circuit was quite keen on the old corners around the middle, and that was a fine point to gain some ground on other drivers who may be less confident at taking the corners at speed.

After the briefing, which Roger had recorded using his EyeGlass, in case he needed to refer to it again, he went up to the stands to watch some of the other drivers take the cars for a spin. Then it hit him, as he saw everyone going about in the their custom helmets, plastered with logos for companies he'd not actually heard of. He didn't have a sponsor. That probably wouldn't fare too well if he crashed the car in the later laps. However, getting a sponsor was the least of his troubles.

As everyone continued to set faster and faster times, Roger was quite confident that, seeing as he was in the last group of the day, the track would be perfect for setting a good time on. He checked local weather data, and the weather did seem to be warming up. Even better, he thought, as he made his way down to the pits to strap himself into a car. It was on the way that he got stopped by an offical.

"'Ello, Mister... Bunn, was it?"

"Hello there, what was it you wanted?"

I must 'ave to ask you, the glasses..." The official made an odd hand gesture that involved waving his hands in front of his eyes. "You will 'ave to remove them. They are not allowed. It is a form of the cheating!"

Roger wasn't too impressed with that. How was he going to get live data of other players positions on the track now? And how was he going to see how hot the engine was? How was he going to tell what his lap time was? That's how things were normally done in the Syndicate, where everyone had an EyeGlass, and could analyse track data and get it live fed to their eyes. He'd just have to play this one by ear...

"Okay, here." Roger took the glasses off, and handed them to the official. "But please don't break them..."

He set off on the track, and decided it might be best to just try to keep the car in one piece this time. This new track was superb, however, and the combination of speedy straights and wild bends really gave Roger a sense of control. It was maybe because of this, and the fact that Marquis was doing it too, that Bunn decided to not play it safe, and pushed down on the throttle, taking the bends - and the car - at the very limit of what was considered safe. There was no way Roger was to be beaten at speed by a Falcanian. That just wouldn't be fair if the bird-men from down south claimed the top spot fot two seasons in a row.

In the blink of an eye, the 25 laps were over. Bunn thought he'd done okay, setting some nice times in the middle portion of the track, where everyone else was playing it safe. He couldn't quite believe it, though, when he saw his name second on the scoreboard. That was far better than what he was expecting! He received his EyeGlass back from the official, and took a picture of the scoreboard. He'd be putting that on the fridge, that's for sure!

Now there was just the Mountain Challenge Course to look forward to. Bunn hadn't actually raced abroad before, apart from some Guianan Karting Invitationals when he was a teenager, but if all the races were as good as that one, then he might be in with a good run!

[Darmen]

Kermit's agent walked into the room, and stood behind Juan as he watched the local 6 p.m. News.

"Hey, you know how I contacted every team with an open seat?"

"Yeah, did you hear back?" asked Juan, as he spun around on the couch, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"Yup."

---

FROM: McPhill Sports Promotions
TO: Aer Ancharine Motorsport Racing
SUBJECT: Juan Kermit

To whom it may concern:

You have no idea how glad I was to hear my agent, Mr. Donnie McPhill, say that a team was interested in my services. And you have no idea how glad I was when I learned that team was Aer Ancharine. I would love to accept your offer to become your second driver, and to be honest, if you acquire the services of a driver who you believe is better than me and use them as your second driver, I wouldn't mind being a Test driver for this season. Really, I'm just looking forward to getting in a car again and performing to the best of my abilities.

I understand you may have some reservations about my experience and age. I assure you that that will not pose a problem to my performance on the track. I realize that my only oppritunity to race in this series was last season for the Preseason Driver Test in Liventia, and that my performance there was less than superb. Looking back on it, I think I was just nervous. I was eighteen years old at the time, and one of the youngest drivers on the track, not to mention that it was the first time I had ever been in a car like the ones used in the WGPC. Since then however, I have been practicing here in Darmen with a model provided to me by an domestic automotive company. I as well as others, believe that I have advanced far in my abilities as a driver.

I look forward to hear from you again, and would be glad to make the short trip from Darmen to Ancharmunn for an interview or a few laps around the track.

Awaiting your answer with much anticipation,
Juan Kermit

[Audioslavia]

He entered the room, muting it instantly. One by one, every member of the McPahan team - mechanics, techies, race driver Alec Lund - mentally tucked their tail between their legs.

The figure removed a tattered baseball cap from his head - an official McPahan one, albeit seven years and one logo-change out of date - and ran a hand through what was left of his bright blonde hair, a buzz-cut style that acted as a golden halo around his head.

The irony.

Alec Lund could rarely bring himself to look the man in the eye. There was something about Linco McPahan that scared the living bejesus of him. Most people were put off by his face alone. They pointed out that his high, wide and oddly round cheekbones, coupled with his thin deathly white eyebrows and eyelashes - a trait perculiar to some blondes and gingers - made him seem almost alien, especially when you took his mottled, ruddy complexion into account, pocked and speckled by years of abuse from hot motor-oil, power-tools and far too much sunlight for someone so pale.

Alec agreed with those people who remarked on his appearance being unsettling, but for Alec it was something else that made Linco McPahan seem almost unhuman. It wasn't his look, it was the way he looked at you. The problem was that he thought you weren't human. McPahan treated all his racing drivers exactly the same. Pack horses. Mules. Fail to perform your duty? We'll just head into town and find another you. Overburdened with luggage? Broken back? We'll just head into town and find another you.

Alec sometimes wondered whether Linco had always been so utterly devoid of compassion or empathy, or whether he'd shed even a little tear when he'd first watched a man die in one of his cars. Alec had been in school when he'd seen the picture in the paper. Local boy, 21 years old, Cathair born and bred, racing in his first season in the open-wheel Formula Ruy championships, lying prone in the gravel-trap that skirted the outside of a fast left-hander, forty feet away from the remains of his car, legs at odd, sickening angles, but one wasn't quite as bothered about that as one was about that piece of equiprment - later identified as a section of the suspension system - embedded in the boy's lungs.

What was his name again?

McPahan had promoted their test-driver to full-driver status and ploughed on regardless. Linco McPahan hadn't attended the funeral. Newspapers speculated he may have been too shocked and hurt by the accident to go.

What was that kid's name?

The final race of that particular season had brought more tragedy for the McPahan team. The test driver had long gone, been replaced with a pay-driver after breaking an arm during testing - steering column failure followed by a failure of the roll-cage system that should have protected the driver in the event of a modest shunt - and that pay driver had lost control of his car on a damp circuit. The back end had slid out, the rear wheels dug into the gravel, the car had flipped and landed upside down, sliding and spinning into a tyre-wall before bouncing back onto its wheels again, revealing a rag-doll of a driver with a helmet covered in mud and grass and slumping sadly over the left side of the car. Doctors reports suggested that, at that moment, he was already dead. Snapped neck. His helmet had dug into the grass and tried to stay their as the car had skidded and spun along and fifty miles per hour.

"His helmet shouldn't have been able to reach the floor in an upside-down car" an FR spokesperson had said. McPahan Racing agreed, and pointed out that the triangle of material in front of the cockpit - one that should have ensured the driver's head wouldn't reach the ground in the event of a collision - had broken in the impact. Further tests revealed that the broken piece on question wasn't made out of the usual materials, but had been replaced with a more lightweight, weaker alloy.

Linco McPahan had shown no remorse. "We followed the rules exactly" he said, "and it is in my best interests to keep the car as light as possible".

A lawyer representing the deceased's family had weighed both the stock and 'McPahan-ised' versions of the equpitment, and revealed the difference to be fourteen grams. McPahan had nodded, as if attempting to indicate that the lawyer had just proven his point.

"Was the weight of your driver's life worth just fourteen grammes, Mr. McPahan" was a question that the team-owner's own lawyer had instructed him not to answer.

The governing body had enforced new laws and attempted to punish McPahan racing, but Linco would worm out of it every time. Alec's father, who had been a member of the McPahan team for three years, had once remarked that the only time he'd seen Linco McPahan look truly angry was when his car had finished a race in tact.

"If it got over the line in one piece then it isn't light enough" was the phrase McPahan had used. His father and Linco had had a falling-out, his father had left and, six months later, died. Aneurism. Lund Senior's death was a first for a McPahan employee in that it wasn't caused by Linco McPahan and his attitude. The old man had told Alec, a few weeks before dying, that he didn't want his son anywhere near the McPahan racing team.

Lund had kept up the go-karting, had taken to the national open-wheel racing season like a duck to water, took home the national championship in his debut season - beating out the two McPahan drivers - and then learned that his rival team had won a place at the top table. The WGPC. They'd wanted a young, fast, Audioslavian racing driver, and Alec Lund had fitted the bill.

That young lad's life wasn't worth fourteen grams. Alec had weighed his father's words against McPahan's money. Fourteen grand. Per race. He couldn't turn it down. He'd just have to be careful. Very. Very. Careful.

"So" came the familiar, level voice of Linco McPahan. "How are negotiations for a number-two driver going?"

"God help whoever joins me" thought Alec. "I'd hate to think how he treats his *second* driver".

"Portland" said one of the race directors, a man dressed in a suit and a blue tie rather than the dusty overalls that the boss preferred.
"Matthew?" asked Linco McPahan, before shaking his head, "he'd cost us a bloody fortune. We need money to pay for this guy's wages."
"Pay driver, then?"
"Aye. Rich kid. Someone who can afford to stump up 14k per race to drive with us."
"Wait, wait" interjected Alec, who had done a bit of maths in his head. He made sure to avert Linco's gaze as he spoke. "The second driver is going to pay for my wages? That's not right"
"Why not?"
"Its just... you know... it doesn't seem fair"
"Well how do you expect us to pay you then, pillock? Where do you think that money's coming from? The fairy ******* godmother?". Linco looked away, shaking his head sarcastically. The suit turned to Alec.
"The books are balanced... more or less" he said, straightening his tie, "capital and sponsorship has paid for the cars, TV money pays for travel and accommodation, merch sales and the profits of outside investments pays for our wages. Not a lot of money left over. Drivers have to pay for the driver wages.
"Lucky we got you cheap" snorted McPahan. "Anyway, its a no on Matthew Porter, he wouldn't race for us if we made him pay."
"Lee Rogers?"
"Would he pay?" asked Linco
"He's a good driver, that one" said a guy at the back, with a sage nod of the head. Linco looked utterly non-plussed, as if he was being informed about his rented prostitute's favourite book.
"Probably not" said the suit, "he's flat-out broke, apparently. Xeb Kallasdun and that Bunn fella have been in touch. Well, their agents have, anyway."
"Will they pay?" asked Linco.
"I... I don't know" said the suit.
"Well do us all a favour and find out, will you? Get back in touch with them and tell them its 14k a race or there's no deal, that's money they pay us, alright? Tell any other Tom, Dick or Stang the same thing too. Anything else on the agenda?"

Alec Lund folded his arms and hid his eyes from view under his baseball cap. He'd had enough of Linco McPahan for one lifetime.

[Mytannion]

Schroeder interest heightens, leaving options open.

Andreas Schroeder held a press conference earlier today to address the situation he is in regarding getting a contract for the upcoming WGPC season. Schroeder seemingly has much interest, with four teams having interest of some level or another in the young driver and it isn't really all that surprising given the amount of success he has had at such a tender age. He's only 21 and that means he still has time to develop as a driver, which is an attractive proposition in itself for many teams as they look to grow and can't necessarily employ a top-class driver straight away.

"I'm honestly flattered by the interest in me, I've been invited back to Lermendia again, this time to actually post some more competitive times - against other drivers, not in direct competition but just to get a sense of how we all match-up." He said, "I'll enjoy the opportunity because I think it'll be a bit more telling to the Yogutz Lantzia staff but also myself on just where I am with regards to my develop in comparison to other drivers from around the world." Schroeder seemed cagey on whereabouts he would end up at the end of the free agent signing period. He didn't give any definite answer, or any real hint about who was ahead in the race to get his signature or who had indicated they had wanted him the most.

Aer Ancharine Motorsport Racing have reportedly also indicated interest through team principle Malachy Byrne. Even though the eclectic team owner Cole McCleary wants Stang Crax, who is already contracted to Goldmund-Teller. The World Champion is unlikely to break contract to go to a new team that is run by someone who is rumoured to have heavy dealings with the Charmunnry mob and the Mytanar Mafiya operating out there. Would Schroeder really be wise signing for a team that is owned by someone with such questionable business dealings?

"I haven't actually heard these stories about Mr. McCleary and I think it should be noted that most of these stories come from tabloids who often like to... sensationalise stories to sell newspapers." He continued. "From what I know of Cole, he seems to be a successful businessman who has used his money to come into a sport I absolutely love and I credit him for that. The money is key in this sport, which is often regrettable given some of the conditions in the countries involved. But if I can be successful that'll be something I'll hope to get involved in, giving back and all that."

Schroeder seems to say all the right things, he's a bit of a media darling, giving all the right answers and replies and it seems he's been well trained by agents and possibly even the Mytanar Government itself in media interaction.

He finished up on the subject of the Aer Ancharine team by saying, "I am scheduled to give them a visit in the next couple of days, have a look at the car and all that. I do think it's only right that I get to keep my options open though, given the various teams I've spoken to are doing the same. I just want to sign for the team that suits me best and so far I definitely have one team above the rest."

Schroeder was giving this press conference live from Turori, after putting in 25 laps on the new Eelandii GP Circuit and he's planning on jetting off across to Vilita for a slightly more official one-day test session at the Vilitan Mountain Challenge Course in which the thirteen drivers invited will be given the opportunity to almost race each other for the second seat on the Vilita & Turori Motorsports team. The most important thing about this session is that Schroeder will meet his fellow challengers for that role, the atmosphere could well be tense between quite a few of the people there.

"I'm not sure where I stand with Vilita & Turori Motorsports... I mean I got the invite but team management haven't been too hands-on so far, so I suppose it will be left to tomorrow to see where exactly I stand with them." He remained a bit cagey on his general opinion of the team, "Honestly I haven't been able to form any real opinion on the team, I haven't seen much of the team staff or anything really. They're obviously a top-flight team but I need to have a bit more contact with them before making any real informed decision on them."

The last team that has reportedly been interested in Schroeder is Polarian outfit Obeveklig-Farautoo, but Schroeder seemed a bit surprised when one journalist asked a question about contact between the two parties: "Sorry? Oh, no, there hasn't been any true contact between me and them, there's been whispers through my agent that they're apparently interested but there was nothing concrete, no visits scheduled, no plans at all really. I'd like to get to see them, but again, only because I want to see as much as possible before making a real decision."

"I do have one favoured team at the moment, but really the differences are so small that it'll be difficult to make any choice until very close to the deadline for the free agent signing period, I imagine."

Soon after the press officer confirmed there would be no further questions and we didn't really leave the press conference with any more knowledge on Schroeder's future than we had before.

[Flevans]

Yogutz Lantzia HQ, Lermendia, Astograth
Lee Rogers arrived 5 minutes early for his interview with Yogutz Lantzia's bosses, and paced around outside, trying to compose himself.

"You're nervous," said Alice.
"Yeah. You know this is the first interview I've ever actually had."

Odd for a 31 year old as it may be, it was also true. But then, Lee was far from the average 31 year old, even the average 31 year old racer. All his drives had either been secured by his father speaking for him, as it was in junior series, or had been for his father's team. But Bill Rogers was nowhere to be found now, and Lee had to stand on his own two feet.

"Look, just breathe, concentrate, and act professional," reassured Alice, "You've spoken to media before, professionally, just treat this like that. Except that there's only 2 people watching."
"Yeah. Two people who could very well decide my career. No pressure."

Lee put on what he hoped was a professional and composed attitude, and entered the building. Before long, he was speaking with Urun Sisko, the man who could very well decide Lee's fate. Sisko seemed friendly enough, though Lee also knew he had a reputation, and that that demeanor could easily change if Lee started wasting his time. So he didn't, and kept it short and to the point. Was he fit? He could run 10k in 40 minutes, so yes. Sponsors? Not really, but he did know some JIM ex-employees, people that worked on their title-winning WGPC 9 and 10 efforts, that would probably be very interested in a job. Why exactly should we hire you? Now there was the doozy.

Lee took a brief drink of water as he quickly composed what he would say. Hmmmm, yeah. That was it.

"Because all the other driver's available think they can win Grands Prix, think they can challenge for the World Championship. I know I can win at this level. I know I can challenge for the World Championship, and, what's more, I will win one, if you give me the car. "

So they gave him the car.

----------------------------------------------------------
Akialden Ducal Autodrome, Lermendia, Astograth
Lee had just finished studying the track map - he could certainly handle this. 2 shakedown laps, get used to the car, and the track. Then he'd slowly turn the heat up. He had 20 laps to put in a fast time, and was fueled accordingly. So, obviously, the best way to approach this was save the tyres for the last 3 or 4 laps, when the fuel was very light and he could go more or less flat out. In the meantime, he'd work on ironing out each section of the track. The first section was a good mix of fast and slow turns and therefore needed a measured. steady approach. Going all-in for every corner would mean going off. The next section picked up after turn 5 and was the simplest to drive, with only 3 corners in it. Of course, there was plenty of straight track in between, and that meant Lee would have to nail the exits of 5, 6, and 7 perfectly - messing up on any one of them would kill his laptime.

The final section kicked off with a series of tricky esses, which would require a steady approach again; one slip up - especially early in the sequence - would be a top laptime that much harder. The track opened up around the long, sweeping, turn 13, before the final chicane, which Lee would also have to nail perfectly before starting a proper hot lap in order to get a good run down the pit straight.

He put on his fireproof overalls, and strapped up, ready to get on the track. Katzuso gave the thumbs up and the engine was fired - and what an engine it was! No expense spared here - Lee was going to tear those straights up! ... provided he got the corners right....

Lee's first lap was rather modest as he got to grips with the track, a mere 1:44.149. He made sure to keep his tyres warm down the straights, and on lap 3, felt confident enough to start seeing what the car could do. Turns 1 & 2 were a simple chicane - brake at the 200 meter board, bam, done. Turn 3... the car can take this flat out, right? .... NO IT CAN'T!

The rear end of the Lantzia 650 started to come around, but Lee instinctively fed in counter-steer and the car was never really in danger of going off. Okay, thought Lee to himself, that's where all the money for the engine was diverted from. Not a lot of downforce, but I should be able to cope.

Lap 4, turn 4. It was a bit tighter than turn 3, so Lee held a slightly slower speed than turn 3, yeah, no sweat. Turn 5, fairly standard, just keep the front in check, no danger of going wide here. That's sector 1 sorted then, what does sector 2 hold? Answer: a pretty tricky turn 6. It took Lee a few cracks at it before he finally nailed it - lift off the throttle, down two gears, full lock left, clear the apex, back on the throttle. There we go. Turn 7 also took a few tries, but Lee eventually got the braking point down to about 175 meters. Turn 8? 250 meters, and done in one try.

The esses were fairly low speed and had some distance between each apex, which caught Lee out the first time he navigated them at speed. He ran too wide out of 9, and had to back off completely. The next time, he exited more carefully, but fast enough to be able to drift over to the right-hand side of the racetrack in time for the turn 10 apex. He kept this rhythm going and then slammed on the power out of turn 12. Esses sorted. Turn 13 was the kind of corner Lee Rogers enjoyed. He'd love it if the car had more downforce, but he could still tackle it at a good speed. Just come in nice and wide on the left-hand side, wait for the turn to tighten up, lift, drop a gear, full lock right, hit the apex, stay on the right until turn 14. Done in one.

The final couple of corners were fairly elementary, meaning that Lee finally had all the corners worked out. He crossed the line. 9 laps were now completed, his fastest a 1:37.404. Now it was time to put all the pieces together. That took another 4 laps, leaving him 7 to impress the bosses with. But when he finally turned the wick up, he was right on the pace. His fastest lap at the time was a 1:33.722, which immediately improved to a 1:31.952 on his first proper flier. He then began clocking off times like a machine, 1:31.757, 1:31.527, 1:31.479. But it wasn't enough for Lee. He knew the guys before him had dipped into the high 1:30s, he had to at least break the 1:31 barrier. He dug deep... 1:31.135. Still not enough.

Lee took more kerb, hit the throttle earlier, braked later... this time he did it! 1:30.938, and still one lap to run. He ran just as hard, and put in a 1:30.847 to cap off his run. Lee was satisfied with that. He brought the car into the pits on the next lap, and confided in Katzuso during the debrief, "If that car had a bit more wing on it, I could knock half a second, maybe more off that time."

With his interview with Yogutz Lantzia over, Lee made haste to Turori for the test there.

----------------------------------------------------------
Eelandii Grand Prix Circuit, Eelandii, Turori

Lee and Alice found their way to the Vilita & Turori test session easily enough. They were among the last to arrive, but that counted for little given that Lee was to be in the last group anyway.

"Well, that's a stroke of luck," said Lee after the sets were revealed.
"Yeah," replied Alice, "More rubber on the track, so you'll have an easier time of it."
"Not only that, I'll also get to watch these guys in action, and I should be able."
"This certainly looks like the place to be. You've got pretty much all the big names on the market here in one place. Not surprising considering what Stang Crax did in this exact session 12 months ago, and then went on to do."
"Not at all."

Lee spent most of his time waiting for his turn scoping out the competition. Alice wasn't wrong: everybody who was talking the talk was here. You had Allian Marquis from Falcania here, hoping to emulate Stang Crax's performance here a year ago, no doubt. Then Andreas Schroeder, the Mytannion wunderkind who certainly seemed to have the media wrapped around his finger, and seemed to be tipped to be the man to beat in the rookie stakes. On this side was the other wunderkind, Alexandra Mayari of Nekoni, something of a cult hero in her homeland from what Lee had heard. Over there was Einur Birkirsun, who was supposedly making very large waves, calling at all the major stops, despite being a relative nobody on the world stage. However, the fact that people were actually willing to listen to him, that caught Lee's attention. On the other side was some guy having an argument with an official over something or other.

Eventually it was time to go. Lee's group was up. Marquis and the guy who was arguing with the official practically ran off jumped into their cars, eager to impress. Lee chuckled to himself; he could remember doing the same thing when his WGPC debut came up. It was also slightly sobering; for the first time since the WGPC 10 Pacitalian Grand Prix, Lee was actually racing against someone else - well, it wasn't a race per se, not even a real competition, but certainly the closest thing to it by far. And the thought occurred to him that probably at least one of these guys is faster on raw pace. It was a sobering thought for Lee, but he knew he had something nobody else at this shakedown could offer, and went on his way.

The car was similar to the Yogutz Lantzia - it just had more of everything. More power, more downforce. Lee had been pretty impressed with the Lantzia 650, but this car... well, Vilita & Turori were the second-best Constructor in the WGPC - them having a great car was probably not a big surprise. Lee focused on finding the particular handling characteristics of the car more than the track - there was little point in finding the absolute fastest way around Eelandii when everyone was packing up and heading to Vilita for the test proper tomorrow, and Eelandii was not on the calendar for this year. Not that that seemed to concern Marquis and Bunn, who raced off into the distance, not to mention -- where the hell was Birkirsun!?

Oh, there he is. Right in the mirrors. ... not really trying to get past either... well, that definitely grabbed Lee's attention. He finished up his 25 lap run, and was happy to be 4th at the end of it despite not really going for all-out speed like Marquis and Bunn were. Once everyone was out of their cars, Lee quickly located Einur, in a discussion with - presumably - his manager. He waited until they finished before he walked up and tapped Einur on the shoulder.

"Hey. I've got my eye on you," Lee flashed a smirk and gave Einur the thumbs up before leaving. He had an early flight to Vilita to catch, and a track to study.

[Liventia]

Matthew Portland was starting to worry. There was less than a week left till the end of the World Grand Prix Championship's signing window and he had still yet to find a team to race for after Carvenlo, the team with whom Portland had had two spells, decided to drop him for young Astograthian Sotil Morua. To add insult to injury, he hadn't even been offered the test driver's position: "you're good enough to find a race seat somewhere else", they had told him. Well, to date, he hadn't, and it was starting to weigh on him.

He was a two-time world champion. You'd think this would mean teams would be in for his services left, right and centre, but in reality it was very different. The new teams on the grid like McPahan Racing simply didn't have the money to pay the wages a two-time world champion commanded, while some of the more established teams, such as Vilita and Turori Motorsports and Yogutz Lantzia, seemed wary of the fact that Portland had just been dropped off the roster by the reigning world constructors' champions.

Looking through his emails again, Portland knew he had few options remaining if he wanted to avoid racing for the WGPC Motorsport works team. WM Barton – a new Licentian outfit – seemed to be interested in his services, but he could not know for sure if they were able to pay him or whether they expected him to pay to race. There was MSA-SinVal, another new team on the grid, but little had been heard out of Eastfield Lodge regarding signing a driver at all. Curious, Portland thought, as they wouldn't be allowed to start the season with a single driver.

Then there was Obeveklig-Farautoo. They were inconsistent last season, but were at least an established name on the circuit. Portland knew he'd be interested in racing for the Polarian outfit, but worried to himself about how he would get along with Vitaliy Aaltonen, who – to say the least – was outspoken last season, even receiving a WGPC reprimand at one point for his actions.

Portland clicked on the email from WM Barton. It invited him to Houghton, in Licentiapacisterra, home to the team headquarters and where an interview would take place. Portland paused. Surely they don't expect a two-time world champion to have to interview for the second seat on a new team, Portland thought, as he subconsciously began looking for flights to Esportiva. I'll have a look round, he figured, and ask them a few questions instead of them interviewing me.

---

"Mr Portland, have a seat."

As he did so, Matthew Portland scanned the room quickly for signs of the character of the man he was about to speak to. Sparsely-decorated office, Portland thought. To the point, then.

"Mr Miller. I know you expected me here to interview me. But I can tell you're a straightforward man, so I shall be frank with you too. I'm a two-time world champion and I don't expect to be interviewed for the second seat on a new race team. I might expect to be for the lead seat on a former world champion, but not, I'm afraid, with your outfit. So, instead, please humour me and let me ask you a few questions."

Stuart Miller looked stunned for a moment, but quickly recovered colour in his cheeks and nodded, knowing the chance to sign a former drivers' champion simply did not present itself every week. "Very well, go ahead."

"Do you see there as being a clear separation between your one and two drivers?" Portland was keen to find out if he would be marginalised at any new team – as he thought he might be if he chose to try for Obeveklig-Farautoo.

"Well Mr Portland, as you have said yourself, we are a new team so I would think no, we can't afford to place one driver above the other. At least not for the start of the season. As we get through towards the end, quite possibly if either of our drivers is still in the running for the title, we will favour them."

Okay, Portland thought. Not great, but I can work with that. He had expected to be told that as two-time champion he would get favourable treatment, but he understood that a Licentian driver on a Licentian team was never going to be marginalised.

"Do you see your car as being able to challenge for the title?"

"We'd like to think so. It's only our first year but we all saw what happened last year with the people at Vilita and Turori, who produced the world champion. We've got a reliable car, certainly, so we expect to be consistent."

Portland nodded. That answer was about what he expected, but he still had one key question to ask.

"Do you expect me to be a pay driver, or will I be salaried?"

Miller shifted uncomfortably, but looked at the Liventian driver straight in the eyes and said: "We can't expect a two-time world champion to have to pay us to drive, but being a new team our finances would necessarily restrict how much we could pay you. We'd have to be careful to manage the Licentian public's understanding of your position, as well as the position of our other driver, who our fans might expect to be paid more."

"Well, thank you for your time, Mr Miller, this has been a very interesting meeting. I hope you don't hold it against me for turning the tables in our little interview. I would love to sign for WM Barton; I'll keep my eyes out for a response from you."

[Ancharmunn]

Setting himself down on a cold wooden bench and allowing himself to dry from the quick shower he'd just taken Malachy Byrne studied a print out of the results from his trial session for the BrennickSport team. He'd spent half an hour out on track to complete twenty laps, nothing special he mused to himself, but probably enough to get himself a decent position in a race situation. His personal best lap had been a 1:29.400, in fact that had been his only lap under 90 seconds. Again, nothing special, but decent enough and at least offered a sign of potential. The twisty Cheston Park circuit favoured corning ability rather than Byrne's knack for flat out speed, something he could claim as a mitigating circumstance should any express disappointment in his times. With an interview for team boss David Brennick to chance for, Malachy was well aware that such a view may well be presented to him in just a few minutes.

Steeping into David Brennick's office the first thing that struck Malachy was that despite BrennickSport's new status in the WGPC they already had the culture and feel of a long established team. Of course they were already a long established, and successful at that, team. Dotted around the room were a number of the numerous trophies the team had won in domestic Flevan racing, as well as pictures of the various Flevan greats who had made their name under Brennick. Having shaken Brennick's hand and taken a seat Malachy took a blindingly obvious glance at the various memorabilia in the room. Nodding towards a finely kept photo of Brendon Cassidy, Malachy attempted to break the ice with a casual remark.

“What a fantastic driver he was eh? To achieve half of what he did....”

Brennick smiled politely and nodded in agreement whilst making some vague comment in praise of Cassidy. In truth Malachy half-suspected that Brennick had seen right through him and realised that the Charmunnry had only vague knowledge at best Cassidy.

“Yes, if I can get a driver that can achieve half of what he did I'll have done well. So with that in mind, when do you see yourself winning the world championship?”

'Bloody hell' Malachy thought to himself, 'This boy doesn't mess around does he? I'm invited here expecting to talk about being a test driver for a team débuting in the WGPC and he's asking me when I'm going to win titles? Can't say too soon, after all, a test driver's not going to win a driver's title is he, and even if I'm promoted to race driver next season, promising a title straight away is going to sound overly arrogant. Go for the team answer, tell him that as a test driver I can test the car out to get it perfect for Boudermann and Davies to score the necessary points for a challenge at the constructor’s, whilst if I am called up to race I can also put points on the board.”

Brennick considered Malachy's answer for a couple of moments whilst jotting down a couple of notes. The driver meanwhile tried his best not to be waiting impatiently for the silence to end by attempting to pre-empt an answer for the next question.

'So he's asked when I'm going to win titles, how long until a race win next perhaps?'

“Now then, your race history” Brennick announced, looking up from what Malachy assumed to be his CV, “It says here you used to drive tin-tops, and you were quite decent at it. What made you switch to real racing cars?”

'Ha! Tin-tops! Good one' In truth Malachy's preference was for 'tin-tops'. To him there they were more of a race of driver skills than the technophiles and aerodynamicphile world of WGPC. He couldn't deny however that open-wheel racing, the WGPC in particular was where the glamour was. It was where you had to be in racing if you wanted to be known throughout the world. 'How to explain it? Can't make it too megalomaniac, To test myself at the highest level? Indeed, quote him and say I want to prove myself not just as a racer, but as a real racer.'

Again Brennick took a moment to absorb Malachy's answer and to jot a couple of notes before moving on with the questioning, “Now then, it also says here that you never won a title in the Mytanar Racing Championship. Never even came close. Yet I have a friend who swears by you, a friend whose opinion I greatly respect. So what did you do to gain his respect?”

'Bloody hell! How do I know, I'm trying to prove myself as a racing driver here, not a mind reader.' Malachy thought to himself without trying to stall too much. 'Who could this friend be, anyone I know? A rival driver perhaps? I always raced fairly whilst challenging others and that seemed to get me a lot of respect on the grid. Perhaps a team principle or someone else in the garages? Margaret knows that if I don't make it here there's several teams back in the MRC that would be interested in taking me on.'

Brennick nodded, in what Malachy sensed was a satisfied manner before speaking again, “Now then Mr Byrne, I have one final question, your father runs one of the other WGPC teams. Is there any insight you might be able to give me on him?”

Malachy smiled broadly at the question, revealing a near perfect charming grin. 'Aha! My trump card. Of course I have insight to share Mr. Brennick. But how do much do I want to reveal, at least before I know I have a role here. Just offer him a little bit now, a couple of tasters, and save some for later.'

Malachy couldn't help but feel satisfied with his final answer, he could tell he given Brennick enough to whet his appetite, and also sensed that Brennick knew exactly what his game was, that there could well be more to come.

“Well, Mr Byrne, I must thank you very much for agreeing to meet with me today, I feel this has been a very productive meeting, and hopefully not our last.”

Malachy took up Brennick's offer of a parting handshake, “Indeed Mr. Brennick, I must express my gratitude to you for the invitation and I look forward to hearing from you again.”

The young driver was able to walk out of Brennick's office and out of the country feeling as though his trial and had gone reasonably well, and yet he couldn't help but feel a nagging doubt in the back of his mind. His best bet he figured was to Astograth and Polar Islandstates as suggested by his agent to sound out Yogutz Lantzia and Obeveklig-Farautoo.

-----------

It was the solid bump onto the ground as much as the flooding of light into the cabin that had woken Malachy Byrne Jnr. up. His day in Flevans trying to impress the BrennickSport team had taken it's toll heavily on Malachy and he'd largely been a zombie when it came to getting through the airport and onto their next flight. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes Malachy mused to himself that without Finbar Kenny he'd still be deep in slumber somewhere in a waiting hall in Cheston rather than on his way to meeting up with the powerbrokers of either Yogutz Lantzia or Obeveklig-Farautoo. Which one was it again? He was sure that Kenny had mentioned something last night, but Malachy had simply been too tired to take any notice.

'Good morning ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. I hope you have enjoyed your flight, and am able to inform you that we have a cool, breezy forecast today here in Alikki-Corra. On behalf of the flight crew I would like to wish you all a pleasurable stay here in Vilita.”

'Alikki-Corra!? Vilita!? What the hell!?'

By now Finbar Kenny had noticed that his client had awoken and seen the look of alarm that had engulfed his face.

“Ah, you're awake Malachy, excellent timing, you do look most refeshed I must say, that little sleep's done you the world of good. Now, there's no need for alarm, but I made a slight change of plans.”

“We're in Vilita.”

“That's exactly where we are.”

“Neither Yogutz Lantzia or Obeveklig-Farautoo are based here, so why the hell are we here?”

“You're right again, neither are based here. But the Vilita & Turori Motorsports are and it's their Vilitan Mountain Challenge Course test session this morning. It's where Stang Crax was discovered last year you know.”

Of course Malachy knew that, anyone with half an interest in the sport knew that. There was also something else Malachy knew about the event.”

“Their invite only Vilitan Mountain Challenge Course test session? That you didn't get me an invite for?”

What many would consider a fault in the plan didn't seem to bother Kenny at all. Instead he just simply shrugged whilst getting his and Malachy's bags out of the overhead lockers.

“Neither did Ramírez last year, didn't stop him.”

“Ramírez?” Malachy seemed as though he knew the name but couldn't quite place it.

“Aye, Generoso Ramírez. Turned up at the circuit on the day of the test last year and took Donal's place in one of the sessions. Ended up getting a contract with the V&T team on the back of it. These Vilitans owe me a favour after that, so we're going to turn up there and get you a drive, don't worry.”

Kenny could see that his client was still trying to place Ramírez's name, was it worth adding that his contract with the Vilita and Turori Motorsports team had only been as a test driver? Probably not.

------

“So Cole, there's three names in the frame for the second seat at the moment.” Malachy Byrne Snr. told his paymaster whilst glancing out of the window of Cole McCleary's mega-yacht half expecting the raging storm outside to be sending yet another wave crashing into the boat. Even though the yacht was safely moored in Ballyfeeaknock's exclusive harbour the swell was still causing more than enough movement to make the sea-shy Byrne rather queasy. “Andreas Schroeder , Juan Kermit and Matthew Portland have all expressed an interest. There's still several drivers we're waiting for a response from.”

“That's four names then.”

Though it clearly wasn't Byrne by knew had got to grasps with the fact that McCleary was never wrong. Rather than correct him, Byrne simply waited for McClearly to add in the fourth name himself.

“There's Stang as well.”

“Of course. Stang goes without saying. Though having said that we've not received any word from him yet.”

It goes without saying that we're not bloody getting Stang, was more in line with Byrne actual thoughts.

“No doubt he'll come to his senses soon.” McClearly offered, seemingly believing he could genuinely attract the world champion to join his team rather than one built around him. “Still, I suppose we're going to need a test driver aren't we?”

“Exactly. Schroeder's young, raw, exciting, the Mytanar Stang Crax some say.” Byrne invented, half hoping the moniker would actually work on McCleary, “Kermit, we don't know much about his personality, but he'd probably be cheap and whilst keen, wouldn't have the ambition to try and knock a bigger name off their perch.”

That review of Kermit seemed to bring about a dismissive retort from Aer Ancharine's moneyman, “Cheap doesn't interest me, we've no need to save money. Though a tester not trying to steal the limelight from Stang would have it's uses.”

“And Donal.” Byrne added, keeping in mind that drivers of the same nationality of their team tended to enjoy slightly higher profiles.

“Of course, and what about Portland, Carvenlo haven't kept him on? Not often you get a former world champion on the free agent circuit.”

“No, exactly. Though part of me suspects his status, or former status rather is working against him. Word is he's using his past successes to place demands on potential teams.”

“Is he?” chuckled McClearly, almost it seemed in feint admiration, “Well, I guess we can afford to indulge him a little bit if needs be, so how are you going to decide between them?”

“Well, I thought the best thing would be to directly compare them to each over. Invite the three drivers over to the Ballyfeeaknock International Circuit, and for that matter allow other drivers to turn up should they be interested, and hold a test session between them.”

[OOC: As well as the three drivers mentioned the test session in Ballyfeeaknock will be open to any drivers interested in either the second race seat or the test seat at Aer Ancharine. Interest can be stated either through RP or by TG, with the session to take place in about a day's time.]

[Flevans]

As Malachy Byrne left BrennickSport's HQ, James Davies entered. The youngster had made a habit of dropping in to the team HQ on a near-daily basis to stay abreast of developments. It was how he hauled a 90 point deficit - nearly the maximum points available in a race - back to 0 in time for the fateful climax to last years' FRS championship. It made him a faster driver, and anything that made James Davies a faster driver was to be done at all costs. So, naturally, he took note of a face he had not seen before, and made his first stop David Brennick's office.

"Yo, boss. Who's the scrub that just left?" James collapsed on the sofa perpendicular to Brennick, making himself very comfortable and ruining the cushions again...
"That, Jimmy, is the man who will be joining our team as the test driver this year."
"That scrub?" James raised an eyebrow. "He any good?"
"Well, he just hauled a launch-spec B28-W around Cheston in 1 minute and 29 seconds. So, yes. He is good."
"The launch spec? That hunk of crap Johnny-boy could only haul around in, what was it, 1:31, 1:41? Huh. Well then, maybe you should give Johnny-boy the sack and bring this guy in... what's his name?"
"Malachy Byrne."
"Malachy. Heh. I can roll with that. Sooo, I take it he signed the contract? What was even in that thing?"
"He hasn't signed it. Yet. And the contents of it are no concern of yours."
"Really? 'Cause there's like, what, a dozen seats available? Race seats? If this scrub's so good, he should get one of those easy."
"You know well enough that a seat at BrennickSport is a prized possession. All of my race drivers have served as a test driver--"
"I didn't."
"I was getting to that. You were an exceptional circumstance, Jimmy. Yours was a talent I couldn't risk falling into other hands."
"Haha, yeah, I know, that's why you love me, boss. So, what I was saying earlier about sacking Johnny-boy... ?"
"As much as I greatly value your opinion, Jimmy," Brennick's words were doused in sarcasm, "Why don't you just concentrate on driving quickly and leave the team management to me?"
"Eh, okay, sure thing, boss. I'mma go check what the aero guys are doing today. Catchya later."

James got up from the sofa, knocking a cushion onto the floor before he quickly grabbed it and tossed it back onto the sofa, before rushing out the door. As it closed, Brennick exhaled deeply and buried his face into his hands. If there was two things Brennick had always prized himself on, it was his professionalism, and his dedication. James was certainly dedicated - a dedication that with time could even rival his own, but professional? James Davies? Not on your life. Still, Brennick thought to himself, We must all make our sacrifices in the name of victory. He picked up the receiver on his desk and called the janitor.

"I need you to fix up my office. Jimmy was here. Again."

Brennick hung up, sighed, and wheeled himself out of the office. Should probably make sure James wasn't screwing anything up...