World Grand Prix Championship Season 16: RP Thread

[Aboveland]

Lintulahti International Circuit
Lintulahti, Aboveland
Qualifying

The words of praise lauding the track that echoed through the paddock made Terho grin, as the inhuman screech of Nanna's V12 core bellowed through the bay. Funnily enough, it had been Ryker Lane that set the fastest time in practice, not himself. For qualifying, he would leave no compromises.

He planted his right foot to the walls of the monocoque, his rear wheels not squealing for a second, as he barreled out of turn one. From then on out, until the braking point for turn 4B marked by the barricaded off turn 4A onto layout A, he left the throttle wide open, the downforce on his car just enough to keep the car's floor level with the fresh, flawless tarmac. The g forces shook Terho from side to side, his legs twaddling like fast food french fries shuffling into their box, as the machine rocketed downhill towards the water, his speedo briefly marking 374 kilometers an hour. Had turn 3 been designed as a downhill straight, the car might have been too quick to compete.

A healthy slam on the brakes and some swift downshifts paved the way for the optimal line through turn four, a wide entry giving him a straight line towards turn 5B's apex. The speed picked up again around turn 6B and the bridge, the asymmetrical esses quick, challenging and exciting all at once. Turns 7 and 8 merged to form one long hairpin after the bay crossing, the throttle percentage in crescendo as Terho descended to turn 9B. As he turned his head right towards the apex, letting the now muscle memory metronome take over, he spotted Juracai Klianiota begin his ascent into the final stretch of the circuit. With almost surgical precision, Terho bit the outside kerb off of turn 9B and took off towards the final wavy sector of the racetrack, carrying as much speed uphill as he had downhill with a flawless tow from his sister chassis. Another heavy braking, another plume of tyre smoke, and Terho was off through turn 12, smooth and methodical, yet aggressive and daring. His heartbeat begged to pound his temples on the final corner in a spike of anxiety, yet the Abovian ace put the worries to rest almost immediately. He shot across the line with a minute remaining in the session, winning his first pole position of the year.

While the entire TRÆ team hadn't had seen a dominant performance from both their blue arrows, all the eyes were on the Abovian green number 56 as it came to a stop in the garage. Edvin popped the cork on a tiny bottle of champagne to celebrate the team's first qualifying win and shot the foam onto Terho's visor. Perhaps it was a bit early to celebrate, but with the whiff of bubbly wine penetrating his helmet's openings, the liquid oozing down the raised visor onto his lips, he was almost tasting victory.

~~~

Lintulahti International Circuit
Lintulahti, Aboveland
Race Day

The atmosphere that gushed from the grandstands on the pit straight was galvanizing. At his true home, thousands of Abovians packed the viewing quarters above Lintulahti, the human rights dove of the Nordic nation's flag swaying in the gentle breeze, the many voices from the crowd proclaiming "ooh eeh ooh, Ter-ho Ter-ho!" in unison, the banners sporting the national team's name draped over the fences and coloring more than a single face. There was no crowd like one's own, and Terho found himself in an euphoric state.

The 26 cars were neatly stacked on the grid, the number 56 the furthest forward of them all, the Abovian flag wing mirrors standing proud ahead of the field. TRÆ's engineers were tending to Juracai Klianiota's needs further down the order, meaning that Terho, his helmet hanging off his elbow, his right arm hooked around the chin portion of the protection device, had more than enough time to stare at his deep, twilight blue car against the field, perched peacefully at the top spot. Down the middle of the grid, a plethora of drivers, engineers and cameramen with fuzzy microphones—some shifting their weight from one leg to another periodically, others scratching their ears at the prospect of another incoming lame PR answer—stood sandwiched between the streaks of color from the rubber on the cars' wheels, among LCD's, wires, hot air guns, and team pennons. In plain sight, it seemed as if everybody was occupied, frenzied with the evolving world around them.

Yet, in his true fashion, one driver stood out.

Terho, observant as a bird of prey, was delighted to catch a glimpse. Seated next to Coalescence (now sporting a questionably fashionable flip flop strap), and outside the narrow passage between both columns of cars, was otherworldly Nimban and lap record holder Ryker Lane. From pole, it was a little tough to make out what exactly the driver was twiddling in his fingers, or if that mattered anyway; regardless, of all the people on the grid, he seemed to be the only other person in nirvana, second to Terho himself. A brief flutter spurted behind Terho's sternum. He'd promised he'd talk to Ryker at least three weekends ago, and yet for whatever reason he never found the chance to blurt out a few words. His golden opportunity had been in Vulkanas, after the race, to bond out of mutual disdain for the events of the hopelessly damp grand prix, but on that gray Sunday nobody would have been able to yank out Terho's blues.

The Abovian's admiration for Lane was a well known trivia fact that lingered around the WGPC, but while Terho was certain the winless world champion knew that, he’d never really spoken to him face to face. It would be an honor for the zenful leader of Nexus Racing to divert his attention from the fiddly object in his hands to Terho himself, despite the fact he was nearly certain he wouldn’t mind. With a heated race on the former champion’s favorite track just tens of minutes away from shutting off its red lights, a little mutual words of encouragement between both drivers would surely pay dividends in the race and the life off the tarmac.

With a confident stride, his helmet bobbing against his torso, Terho made his way past one, two VMR cars, the gorgeous Polaris machine of Erica Okumura, the equally striking Chase Cutter of glare-worthy Jean Mercer-Daly, and the queasily-colored MRT of championship leader Sigur Bjarnason to end right where he wanted: Coalescence’s futuristic molded nosecone. Terho approached the Nimban, casting a faint shadow over his hands, and leaned down to tap his shoulder. He shot his eyes straight at the Abovian, raising his eyebrows in spontaneous surprise, and stood up, not saying a word, but ever so slightly making a gestural nudge as an invitation to begin the conversation. Terho brimmed with excitement like a little kid and pinched his elbow skin as punishment for being such a fool, as discreetly as possible. Smoothly and without a stutter, he broke the ice.

“Hey Ryker. I hope we enjoy some healthy battles out there today.”

He rounded off with a winky smirk as punctuation.

[West-East Timor]

Lintulahti International Circuit

Mick entered the pits of Lintulahti International Circuit. He looked around. There were two cars. Two pit crews. Jang Xiaopeng. And... Washomor representatives? Mick immediately went up to Max.

"Max."

"Mick. Hey. The car is ready. Qualifying should start soon. You can get into the car if you want."

"Good. Also, what are Washomor people doing here?"

"Marketing stuff or something I'd say, I don't know."

"But how? I've looked further into the contract Linus had made with them... and the sponsorship officially only starts in two races, it was I think. Anyways, they're not sponsoring us yet. So what are they doing here?"

"I don't know, maybe they are... I have no clue why they are here. You gotta ask either them or Linus I guess. But now you gotta get into the car. Qualifying is about to start."

Mick did as he was told, put his helmet and gloves on, and got into his car. He quickly forgot about the Washomor people.

Max gave a sign to Mick that he could safely exit the pits.

Mick completed the out lap, and then had a rather slow first timed lap.

"01:15.331. Come on, you can do better than that."

"I'll t- WHAT THE F-"

Mick's front wing had just fallen off, causing Mick to scrap the wall at the start-finish straight after driving over it, and giving him a puncture in the right front tyre.

"It seems that somehow your front wing just fell off... Box box box!"

Mick returned to the pits, and his crew had a look at the car.

"Bad news, Mick... it seems that the front wing, or parts of the front wing, have severely damaged the underbody and several other parts of the car. We can fix it, but I can't promise we can do so before the qualifying ends..."

Mick sat down at the end of the garage. He watched as his crew did their best to fix the car. He got more nervous every second, until he realized he wouldn't have enough time for another flying lap. He went up to Max again.

"We won't make it, will we?"

"No. No, we won't. You don't have time for a flying lap..."

"I know."

"I'm sorry. I know we already had problems with the front wing last race, and..."

"Yeah. Yeah, we had..."

Indeed, Mick's race in Vulkanas had gone well, until he damaged his front wing and had to do an additional pit stop. And he suddenly remembered something, or, someone he strangely had forgotten.

"Do we know why the front wing fell off now?"

"No, we don't know that either."

"Well, who's responsible for aerodynamics?"

"That's Marek... Oh, oh yeah, you hate him."

"Indeed I do, and I have my reasons for that."

Mick looked for Marek. Made had already been in his crew at Bitten Heroes, and even before that, at WETCheese Racing in Formula WET1. He always had mistrusted him, especially after a similar incident with loose front wings.

"Marek! You're responsible for this front wing, so I bet you can tell me why it fell off..."

"Actually, no. No I can't. I have no idea why that could happen..."

"Sure you don't."

"Mick, I really don't know what happened! I'll try find out!"

"Then this better not happen again. Marek."

"You two sound like little children arguing about whether one stole the other's toy or not..."

Mick ignored Max' remark. On the other side of the garage, Jang's pit crew was pushing his car back into the garage. Mick looked at the leaderboard. 24th. Jang only 18th as well. This qualifying had gone as bad as it possibly could...

[Former Citizens of the Nimbus System]

Nexus Racing HQ, Crossbay Circuit, Nimbus Bay, the Nexus Wardship of Former Citizens of the Nimbus System
26th of March

“First Builders, Timothy, this is a damn lot to ask.” Gertrude drums her fingers on her desk, eyes skimming the wooden surface. She looks up, the pillar of her arm supporting her heavy head. “You ever heard of ‘irreducible complexity’ before?”

Nexus Racing’s Project Manager nods, his visage grim. “I understand what you’re saying Gertrude, truly I do. Still, we need to do something.” He raises one hand to his head, his thumb pressing against his cheekbone and his middle finger massaging his brow. “At this stage of last season, we were ten, fifteen points behind MRT; we currently lie forty adrift. We need to capitalise on the next two tracks being in our favour if we’re going to make up the gap - and we will if the car holds together throughout the race; you know how consistent Ryker is, even if Jean isn’t to the same degree.” Guard draws his hand down from his head, clasping it in the other. “We have to adapt, Gertrude.”

“I…” She grimaces. “Look, Tim, we could try taking out any of the systems, but then we’d lose the advantage that it gave us before we took it out. We put all these things in the Chase Cutter for a reason - look at what happened when the CS-TCCS went down! Besides, it’s going to mean time reintegrating everything, time that we could be spent on developing new gear to make the car quicker - if we want, time we could spend on stress-testing everything and making it less prone to failure!” Gertrude finally looks up, meeting Timothy’s eyes. “There has to be a better way of doing this. Surely, surely we can find it.” She laughs, giving a half-smile. “We’ve done it so many times before.”

Timothy looks at that half-smile, that innate, powerful confidence in herself and her team shining through the stress, tiredness and irritation. Imagination, but that is beautiful. She has come a long way since last season and WGP2.

Last season…

‘Here’s an idea - why can’t we just fit a module that can repair damage while on circuit? There is enough spare Imagination in the tank to be able to do that. I’ll discuss it with the design team.’

Timothy’s eyes remain closed, even as a wave of cold runs across his whole body. Then he opens them again. “Gertrude, do you recall my asking you during pre-season testing one year ago as to whether we would be able to use an Imagikinetic convertor to rebuild an UHSGV-1 on circuit and you told me that we would be unable to as a result of a lack of Imagination convertors and the time required to map the Chase Cutter’s structure in detail?”

By this point Gertrude has already sat up laser-straight in her seat, eyes wide as the possibility surges through her mind like water through a burst dam. “That we now have. Both of them - this is important enough now that we can justify putting everything else on hold. If we could do it, it would go almost the entire way to… It would hold everything in place, so…” She practically shakes. Her mouth thins to a line, her eyebrows furrowing and her eyes themselves narrowing in determination. She slams a fist into her now upward-facing hand. “Okay - we’re doing this. Priority One - stress testing; Priority Zero - Imagikinetic reconstructor. Everything else besides reworking the CS-TCCS is gone. We’ll be done by Lisander.” The left corner of her lips quirks up as her vision rises to his own. “Let’s catch ourselves an MRT, shall we?”

Timothy answers with a ferocious grin, extending his arm and hand; the Head Designer returns his reply, leaning forward ever so slightly to clasp his palm. They shake once, a solid, purposeful motion, and a pact is struck.

They stay like that for a moment, each revelling in the other’s surety, drawing it in to summon an ever-growing tempest of energy, strength and hope. Then they both pull back and burst out laughing.

“Imagination, did we just -”

“Yes. Yes, we did.”

28th of March

Victoria types away at her chorded keyboard with one hand, clicking away with her mouse on the other. She leans round her monitor. “Alex? You done with the anti-wall collision parameters?”

“All ready to be copied to the master CS-TCCS document.” The programmer withdraws his arms, spent but satisfied as he flops back in his chair and lets out a breath, eyelids shutting.

Something - two things descend upon his shoulders and begin to rub and knead them firmly, liberating them from the ache that has taken up residence throughout his body. Alex lets out a groan. “Tiffany, I do not deserve you.”

A slight giggle descends from above him. “Nope.”

“Only letting you do that because you finished your part an hour ago.” Victoria shakes her head, her attention back on the screen - though a smile still creeps up on her face. “We know that you’re the fastest-working of the three of us but come on.”

Tiffany smiles a warm, contemplative smile. “It isn’t just that. Everyone seemed so positive and focussed today! Yesterday, too! I just can’t help but feel motivated by it!”

“You are not the only one.” Alex opens his eyes a touch and attempts to rise a little, though he finds that, relaxed as he is under his partner’s ministrations, he is unable to summon the will to do so. “You both saw the way that Gertrude strode into the garage on Monday and set out her plan of action. It’s as if she were channelling the resilience and courage of Exeter himself. Now she has everyone else doing the same, myself included.”

“Were she a siren, I would follow her song to the horizon,” Victoria proclaims with hand across her chest - to the titters and chuckles of her teammates. She raises her left hand to dramatically stab at three keys at once, producing the final letter of her code. “And that’s done! Sending to UHSGV-2 02 for testing…” Click. “Now!” She leaps up, clapping her hands together.

Her teammates do absolutely nothing in response.

Victoria lets out a huff. “Okay, you two, enough’s enough. Alex, find Jean and tell him about the changes we’ve made; come straight back when you’re done. Tiffany, with me; we’re going to watch the telemetry as it develops.”

Tiffany gives a serious, affirmatory nod, moving with purpose to Victoria’s side, while Alex gives his own, more lethargic pair, standing up somewhat unsteadily with an appreciative roll of the loosened joints of his shoulders.

Then he shakes himself down, slamming his fist into his palm. He gives a firmer nod to the two waiting pairs of his teammates’ eyes - and an appreciative smile to one of them - before striding out.

30th of March

A crossbow bolt flies with expert precision towards an electric motor from the MARS bodywork adjustment system, neatly mounted on a wooden stand. It strikes it on the top-left hand corner - and with bounces off with a melodic ping, a wave of blue light coursing across the metal structure.

The collected group of half of Nexus Racing engineers and designers (the other half, under Lucia’s guidance, is busy at the wind tunnel seeing just how much airflow the UPRS can handle) applauds as Rees bows and moves to retrieve his one-handed crossbow’s ammunition.

Well, if the hydraulic press didn’t demonstrate it well enough… Gertrude grins. “Okay, so - good proof of concept! Now we need to map everything else out! Let’s get to it, people!” The team effortlessly splits off into its predesignated groups, excited chatter and decisive movement animating the garage’s workstations.

The Head Designer for Nexus Racing looks around her for a moment before she moves to join her own team. Her mind practically cries out in joy at the sight.

Abovian Grand Prix
Post-Qualifying

Timothy nods at the screen. Fifth and seventh. Not at all bad, considering.

Consideration 1: MRT and Omni Racing are significantly lower down the field than their own drivers. Drivers’ Championship leader Sigur Bjarnason being where he is is problematic, certainly, but his teammate has only managed eleventh, whereas Omni Racing’s drivers’ efforts have landed them far down the order. It is almost certain that Nexus Racing will retake second place in the Constructors’ tomorrow.

Consideration 2: Both Chase Cutters and their drivers performed brilliantly well in Practice yesterday. The team have evidently overcorrected on a number of balances that slowed their Qualifying times, certainly, but things like that sometimes cannot be avoided. They clearly found a sweet spot during the Friday session; revert to that and the two cars will be gliding along nicely.

You both just need to push through, now…

[Mattijana]

Lintulahti, Aboveland

If the last race weekend was a triumphant, albeit soggy procession of luminous green and yellow, this one had a distinctly different feel.

The usual pre-race analysis report had come in. No stone had been left unobliterated let alone unturned, but the clear and final conclusion was that the car would be nowhere near as competitive this weekend as it was in Vulkanas. Lintulahti had too many straight bits, not enough slow bits and to add to the pain that would be experienced by the green and yellow machine come raceday, this time the rest of the field seemed to have targeted them as the team to beat.

Normally when that happened, things went a bit Pete Tong.

The memories of last season still remained. The team had lead by a margin similar to their one now at the halfway stage and looked set to wrap up the title a couple of races before the season's end. Instead, the results had dried up for the team as well as their talisman Terho Talvela, culminating in the Abovian crashong with Jean Mercer Daley at the final Grand Prix in Audioslavia. It was easy to point the finger of blame at the Esmerelian after that, but in truth, the team should have been far enough clear for the setback not to have made a major difference. It was a fall from grace that neither the drivers nor Johan, nor the rest of the team were keen to repeat.

That started this weekend and despite the clear lack of raw pace, the race was the perfect opportunity to grind out some points.

As it happened, the two drivers had booked out two of the best grinding positions on the grid. 6th for Sigur Bjarnason backed up his win in the previous race and was a good platform off which to earn himself some points. Rustom Ibuna was a little further back, but the hope was that race pace would once again be better than qualifying pace and so the optimism of a good return remained, even from a grid position narrowly shy of the points.

Unfortunately the worry came from ahead of the two cars. Their nearest rival in the driver's championship, Erica Okumura had looked in consistently good touch and had stuck the car in fourth. That would be all well and good if Sigur had one of the slower getaways on the grid up ahead, but the fifth-placed man was Jean Mercer-Daly. The Nexus car had some serious torques and even with the start cast aside, the straight-line speed meant it would be a bugger to overtake. Their best chance of getting to the Polaris was to wait for an opportunity to sneak in the back door, not that JMD as he was less-affectionately known, would be willing to offer one. Failing that, the hope would be that the Nexus could leap-frog Okumura, putting Sigur right behind her. However Sigur himself was in a silver sandwich with Ryker Lane right behind him, so even holding his position would be a challenge.
Of course it was WGPC though. Considering all the possibilities and permutations was enough to give an armadillo a migraine.

On form, Rusty had a clearer path off the line. Nate Jackson had had a good qualifying session, but hadn't looked so hot over race distance whilst Cesaro Whittaker's MSA Sin-Val didn't strike fear into anyone. Moe Himura would be up for a scrap though and she was very handy in one of them. It looked like a much tougher race to even understand, let alone predict, manage and succeed in.

The good news from the team's view was that the two omni's hadn't done so well. Their nearest rivals in the constructors championship sat a fairly uninspiring 18th and 24th and the 30 point gap between the two teams looked like opening up a little further. Nexus were lurking in their shadow though and they looked in very fine fettle indeed.

Calling the last race fun would be a stretch, but it had been enthralling and for the most part Sigur Bjarnason had been reassuringly good. Even Ibuna, trying to force his way up the order, hadn't induced too many nervous moments. This race would be a completely different kettle of fish.

Time to crack open the statins.

---

One driver who was feeling decidedly happier with the strip of Abovian tarmac laid down in front of her was Jasmin Kranjska.

The fresh-faced KISMO driver enjoyed the feel of the Lintulahti Circuit. The first sector was rapid. Turns 2 to 4 could all be taken flat out if you were feeling brave enough and although the middle sector required a little more restraint, turns 9 to 13 had some good blasts. It was her kind of circuit.

Practice had gone unexpectedly well. A near-faultless lap put her into third place going into qualifying and with the confidence flowing, she had 10 opportunities to hook a lap together and put herself up amongst the business end of the grid once again.

That lap however, was proving hard to come by.

3 laps in, she had managed to set a banker lap time of a 1:14.595, a time that would only have been good enough for 21st in practice. It would keep her off the back row, but not by much. It was then, just when she least wanted it, that the mistakes begun to creep in however.

On lap 4, she made an absolute mess of the front-right tyre as she stamped on the breaks a little too hard into turn 4. A plume of foul-smelling tyre smoke was thrown up, creeping through the slit between the bottom of her visor and helmet and swamping her nostrils in stench. She held her breath for a few moments before re-joining the racing line after running way too deep through the corner. That was something she didn't want to do again.

The lock-up had given her a flat-spot broader than a friar's bald patch and with the lap ruined, she decided to come straight in to the pits for a fresh set of tyres. The chance to catch her breath would hopefully calm the nerves and help her get that lap in.

Getting herself back onto the track, her actual lap 4 was more to warm the tyres than to set a competitive lap, given the short nature of the Lintulahti track. Laps 5 and 6 would be her best chances of some glory.

Unfortunately lap 5 was not the accurate yet on the limit blur that she had hoped for. On the limit yes. Accurate, not so much.

Pushing as early from the exit of turn 1 as she could get away with, turn 2 loomed ahead of her. Unfortunately the rear end had gotton away from her a little and the end result was the car squirting out wide on the exit of the sweeping left hander.

All was not lost at that point, but it was after the middle sector as, once again pushing hard, she let the back of the car oversteer away from her and ended up having to slow down in order to avoid the tight barrier over the bridge. Was she trying too hard? Perhaps.

Jasmin took a few deep breaths before tackling lap 6. She would try and take this one more smoothly, but as the display on her steering wheel showed her position slipping further and further backwards, that would be easier said than done.

Lap 6 was better. Nowhere near the edge of her car's capabilities, but neat and tidy and good enough for 8th place. Now she had something proper to improve on.

Unfortunately as she tried to up the pace, the mistakes began to creep back in. Not as badly as before, but the odd scrappy bit or missed apex here and there was enough to ensure that she wouldn't improve on her time. With others making gains on their earlier laps, she slipped to 12th.

There would be work to do if Jasmin was to bring in more points to back up her 4 from Vulkanas.

[Savojarna]

Sigur liked Lintulahti a lot. The forest and the water reminded him of Sumanen and its lush forests, even though these forests were a bit more gravel-filled when he spent time there. The track gave him ample time to marvel at the nature, albeit at very high speeds. This was both enjoyable and slightly worrisome, as the car still wasn't as fast as quite a few others despite the update MRT had given it in Eastfield Lodge. However, even if it wasn't perfectly suited to the more technical and reactive nature of his car, the circuit was a lot of fun to drive and reminded him a bit of Yarkovo. He may not be doing perfectly in qualifying, where others could use the strength of their cars better, but it was something that could be fun in the race, when brute force mattered a lot less. Especially the tight corners along the bay appealed to his skill behind the wheel, and with the magnificent view of this part, it was hard not to look forward to the race. If people would be sliding off their line there, Sigur could be right there to get into the gaps and make some progress. Overall, he decided, he didn't fear to lose his driver's championship lead here.

The championship lead was somewhat of a blessing and curse at the same time. Of course he wouldn't want to complain about his success, but sometimes he missed the days in the beginning of the year when only the lone Savojar or Mattijanan reporter would come by for a brief, albeit sometimes unpleasant, encounter. The Mattijanans mainly wanted to know why he was struggling in the beginning, but quickly reoriented their interest to the winning Rustom Ibuna. The Savojars didn't really hide their disappointment, but also seemed reluctant to tackle him too much, probably because they knew about the fragile peace surrounding his sponsorship deal and its importance for Savojarna's WGPC presence. Following his improvements in Eastfield Lodge and Crossbay, there was more interest, but it only really skyrocketed with his victory in Vulkanas and the subsequent leadership in the Driver's. Suddenly they were following him around the paddock constantly, to the point where the SSA had hired a press officer for him. Thomas Kjurman was the embodiment of a Savojar bureaucrat, and frankly useless. He stood around in the paddock with his faded grey suit and a red star pin stuck to it, usually either cleaning his glasses or looking lost while sipping MRT coffee. When he did his job of managing foreign journalists, things were almost even worse thanks to his strict insistence on the rules of the SSA, or his inability to tell the difference of an intermediate and a wet tyre. Sigur made a mental note to ask Struna if there was a possibility the team could hire a figurehead to convince Sjoedrhavn to recall the man, or at least tell Krister to call them and ask for someone with an actual car racing background.

The treatment he got from the other drivers had shifted as well. Where previously, only some people who met him at test drives and nervous rookies like him whom he had chatted with between races were briefly greeting Sigur, he now seemed to be seen by the older racers as well. Not always positive either, though. Nexus' pair seemed somewhat between indifferent and outright hostile, as if they thought of Sigur as an annoying obstacle between their position and the title, which they sometimes seemed to almost consider belonging to them. But others were a lot easier to get along with. He didn't speak much with Talvela, but the Abovian was usually nice and friendly, as he had been at the test drives for TRAE. VMR was generally a fun group, some of them joining Sigur and Krister in a bar at Vulkanas when he went out to celebrate his maiden victory. He never really got to speak to their drivers, which seemed like cool people to hang out with. Maybe he should try to get a chat with them at some point. He and Rusty still mostly ignored each other, and it may be fun to have some friends on the circuit. Over time, playing Pro Savojar Rallye 2018 on his PlayStation in the trailer was getting a little boring after all.

There was no time to make friends though as Bjarnason put on his race overall and stepped into the garage, looking on as Krister's team put on the final touch to his MRT. The race engineer came over to give him his final instructions for the race, and after briefing him on the strategy, wanted to discuss the tactics for the first lap. Sigur was trapped between Mercer-Daly and Lane. The Nexus duo seemed very determined over this weekend, and they would surely make it as hard as possible for him to get past. The question was: should he try to hold position and fend off Ryker Lane while hoping for a mistake by Jean Mercer-Daly, or should he risk an attack from the beginning? His start times were decent, but his opponent was a seasoned veteran that would be hard to overtake off the line. If he risked too much, he could easily drop down a few places. Looking at the grid again, they decided that Sigur would latch on to Okumura's rear wheels and try to use the Nekoni as a plow throughout the first few corners. Getting out of the Nexus sandwich was his first priority to make sure he wouldn't fall victim to some obscure team tactics.

Finally, the car was prepared and Bjarnason climbed into the cockpit. As he entered it, the red and yellow Omni of Jang Xiaopeng rolled out of the garage next to MRT's. The Vangazi briefly glanced into the direction of the howling noise coming out of Sigur's box as he started his own engine. Jang gave him a brief nod in passing. After the impressive race that he showed in Vulkanas, Sigur couldn't help but feel a certain kind of respect for the man. He had done what seemed like sheer insanity to Bjarnason, even if it failed, trying to stay out in slicks on the pouring rain of Rykinsvik, and almost fought his way through the wet track. The nod of Omni's number two, at least according to the standings, had sparked his race mode. Sigur Bjarnason the chill guy from Ejana had been replaced by Sigur Bjarnason the WGPC Driver's Championship Leader, and with the world's eyes set upon him, he was determined to give them a spectacle.

[Former Citizens of the Nimbus System]

Abovian Grand Prix
Practice

Last year, Ryker Lane of the First City of the Nexus Wardship of Former Citizens of the Nimbus System took a solid third place at the Abovian Grand Prix from a start of fifth.

Last year, the Abovian Grand Prix was held at Furuhøytie Virtapiiri, ‘Pine Hill Circuit’ to the Universal speaker - a track that, while certainly suited to a Chase Cutter, was not quite perfect for it in the way that Lintulhati International Circuit comes very, very close to.

It is this that Ryker feels as Coalescence glides up into the last sector of the Abovian track. Like his favourite courses - like Crossbay, like Dashoze - Lintulhati streams like a river, a lap a battle of maintaining momentum around the fast, smooth corners. Moreover, like Crossbay it is characterised by elevation change, down towards the lake and then back up again away from it. Also like Crossbay is the remarkably fresh tarmac, even more so than his home circuit (and, of course, if perhaps not quite to the same degree as racing in and out of a cliffside, the natural beauty, not that he has time to admire that now).

What is not like Crossbay is that the few hairpins take place in the final sector while going uphill, not in the downhill Sector One, and each after long near-straights.

Ryker swoops into Turn 8, holding the throttle down as much as he dares, letting Coalescence’s dynamic Imagikinetic power lead him through, then steadily pushes down on the power as he straightens the wheel - not completely, just enough to let him slowly glide back towards the course’s right as his Chase Cutter streaks towards the ninth turn at a speed worthy of the power of his nation. Slowly he turns back towards the left, then faster, then -

“Remember, Ryker, if you really want to drive quickly around a racetrack, you need to do it like you’re just driving around a lot of long corners.” His father, Aldin Lane, sits with his son on his lap, resting his feet on the throttle and brake even as his progeny places his hands on the wheel of the simulator. “That way, the car doesn’t have to change direction very quickly, so you can keep your speed up. Does that make sense?”

- just clipping the apex, smoothly out, down on the power once more. The Nimbans, man and machine, rocket towards the final corner - this time a true hairpin - and yet they shoot through the final turn of the circuit just as the penultimate one, maintaining all of the speed possibly available to them down towards the start/finish straight.

In that moment, Ryker experiences the same ecstatic transcendence that he experienced on the first lap of Crossbay Circuit.

“That, Ryker Lane, would be this circuit’s fastest lap.” Martin’s words, though understated, carry an unmistakable tone of pride. “Congratulations.”

Lane exults.

Pre-Race

Ryker steps off the cliff, pole equipped, about two hours earlier than usual. More unusually, once he has glided to his usual ledge, he rests the pole on the ground. Then he turns, taking out and unfolding a scrap of paper on which are printed several pictures and drawn a few drawings.

The Nimban nods to himself, folding it away. Then he focusses. Once more, he brings his mind to bear.

Rock shatters with a glow of blue, dropping loose from stone, as the power of Imagination makes its near-eternal mark on the rockface. The beginnings of a pattern are etched on the stone: a smoothly inward-curving arch, fluted lines that also bend inwards around the archway’s curves.

The Nimban gets about a third of the work done before his Imagination runs out. Pulling a flask from his belt, he puts it to his lips and presses the button on the handle to dispense the orbs of Imagination. Then he extends his mind once more. And once more. And once more.

By the end of his fifth flask, Ryker is just about mentally exhausted. He sits, crosslegged, to examine his work and, though it is merely the beginnings of an entranceway, he is pleased with it.

He sits there for half an hour longer. Then he stands, taking up his pole, faces the sea, lets go of it and steps back.

---

Coalescence’s driver sits in a deck chair next to Nexus Racing’s car. The Nimban’s mind isn’t as calm as it usually is before a race - potentially because he set his pre-race calming ritual in the context of what amounts to the beginnings of a construction project - and so it is that he finds himself in his own world despite the chanting of the crowd around him, playing with cubes attached to one another by hinges. This is one internet purchase I’m glad I made, he thinks as he clicks the device around in his fingers, all the parts in continuous motion. It’s… Distracting. In a good way.

So distracting are the cubes, in fact, that Ryker fails to notice as a shadow falls across them. He does notice - and jump slightly at - the tap on the shoulder. He looks up.

A Terho stares back.

Gah! Ryker stands abruptly, speechless at the Abovian’s sudden and entirely unexpected appearance. What in the stars is he doing here?

And he’s saying absolutely nothing. Well, then.

The two stare at each other for an awkward moment more before Ryker raises his hands and begins moving them in circular motion around one another, moving his head slightly to one side and making an uncomfortable humming noise. That seems to prompt Terho to speak. “Hey Ryker. I hope we enjoy some healthy battles out there today.”

Then he winks.

That causes Ryker to smile. “I’ll do my best to get there,” he rejoins with a laugh. “How’ve you been? We haven’t talked in, well…” He glances to one side, thinking. “Actually, forever. Wow.” He presses his lips together. “Ah… Enjoying the atmosphere?”

[Aboveland]

Lintulahti International Circuit
Lintulahti, Aboveland
Race Day

Terho winces discreetly, a barely perceivable display of "ugh" at his awkward greeting. For once in your life, use umm and uhh to your advantage, you idiot! he thinks, his thoughts contained behind the enamel wall of his smile. He'd been a bit blunt going straight in with a 'hey' after the world's longest seconds.

And then he winks. Oh god.

Ryker smiles, charging up and releasing a chuckle before replying. Terho stops fidgeting with his knuckles at the positive feedback. “How’ve you been? We haven’t talked in, well… Actually, forever. Wow.” he says, amicably. “Ah… Enjoying the atmosphere?” he adds.

Terho decides to swallow his first reply. The last time they'd spoken might have been never, in fact. The only proper interaction they'd had, as far as he remembered, was a bitter accusation from himself against the Nimban after he'd allegedly slowed mid-corner to sabotage a qualifying run. Somehow, this might be the first time they've talked to each other.

He chooses to continue his facial expression heavy approach, raising both eyebrows and cocking his head to the side before responding. "Oh, definitely," he says, crossing his arms and shifting his weight from both legs to lean on his left, just as he'd noticed the sea of drivers had done earlier. "The crowds here are just fantastic, even better than in Pæhkinoot." He leaves Ryker a second comment to ponder as he'd done earlier. "Really, the track is just so much nicer than the last one. I've heard you've had some fun around here." He fights the urge to wink again and smirks instead. "Apparently this track is pretty popular with people. Is it too easy to drive?" he finishes, the right side of his mouth now joining the left in a spontaneous smile, another eye raise alluding to the Nimban's spectacular track record. Terho's feels relaxed.

[Former Citizens of the Nimbus System]

Abovian Grand Prix
Pre-Race

“Mmm…” Do I try to explain this now? Ah… Ryker abruptly cuts off this train of thought. Think and feel. Now is an optimal time for feeling. “False dilemma,” he finally answers. “Every track has potential that can be drawn out. My great-great-aunt Iris…” Ryker pauses. He’ll have no idea who she was - ah, curse it! “She was Trackmaster of Vertigo Loop Racetrack, part of which was made into Crossbay, actually.” He pauses. “Vertigo Loop is a track in the origin universe, by the way. He pauses again. “Basically my grandparents came through a giant portal -”

He sighs a self-exasperated sigh, closing his eyes and waving his forearms across each other in a horizontal slicing motion to semi-literally cut himself off. “That’s not the point! The point is that you could say that Vertigo Loop was a relatively ‘easy’ -” here the Nimban makes air quotes with his fingers - “course - short, wide, lots of straights and mid-speed corners - and yet racers like my great-great-aunt spent months trying to get better and better times on it, taking ever-more perfect lines, engineering superior cars, studying each other’s techniques. Getting around a track might be easy, but getting around it quickly is always going to be hard.”

Ryker breathes a deep breath. “Sorry, channelling my inner Gertrude there.” He waves in the general direction of the garages. “Head Designer of our Chase Cutters. Normally one of the most practical people you’ll ever meet but if you ask her about philosophy, well…” The driver shrugs with a lopsided smile. “You’ll get a very interesting monologue. Like that one. I hope.”

[Sorlovia]

Lintulahti International Circuit
Lintulahti, Aboveland
Raceday

Never in his wildest dreams had Gregori ever thought that'd he ever set foot in Aboveland. It was a thing no Sorlovian ever gave much thought to despite the slowly improving relations between their homeland and their neighbour to the west. It was a strange sort of feeling that left him feeling as if he shouldn't quite be there. A strange and almost illicit feeling of being in a place no Sorlovian had ever so much as debated going. The presence of a Sorlovian racer in the alien Abovian environment would no doubt attract a lot of eyes and immense attention. The attention of racing enthusiasts but also a simmering political attention. Gregori's accent and nationality would single him out and bring an immense amount of attention to his presence on the circuit.

"So this is Aboveland," Gregori said softly to himself as he looked out across the circuit "it's a lot prettier than they told me it would be and there aren't surveillance cameras everywhere."

Being in Aboveland was a novelty that was not lost on Gregori. He'd been unable to resist a subtle curiouristy and had found himself studied the Abovian culture. In his free moments he'd visited a number of stores and had dined out at an Abovian restaurant the previous night. He could've given in to the suspicious contempt that many Sorlovians would feel being here but had instead refused to let it get to him. He thought of himself as progressive man and a modern Sorlovian who lived free of the prejudice of the political hardliners and old school idealists.

He leaned against the side of his car and tapped at the buttons on his smartphone. It was time he sent out another email his fans who'd subscribed to his news feed.

Hi Team Gregori,

I hope you are all in good health. Before I start I would just like to thank you for your continued support and all of your encouraging messages. I make sure to read each and every one of them in my free moments. It means so much to have you all cheering me on and just knowing you are all behind me gives me a real boost. I am truly blessed to have such loyal and supportive fans.

As you are all no doubt aware the next race is in Lintulahti. I'll admit that being here is a strange feeling for me given the rough history between Sorlovia and Aboveland. But when I first started in the WGPC I stated that I would leave politics behind. I am here to race. Not to make political commentary or push any agendas. It's all about the car and the race. But a good result in this race would look good on my record and I promise that I am going to give everything I've got.

Stay amazing Team Gregori!

With that closing line Gregori slipped the sleek black device into a pocket and turned to look over his car. A lot of work had been put into it since the last race and he'd spent so many long hours on the test circuit giving it all he had. He'd trained hard, studied the results of his test runs and made a number of adjustments to his driving style. All he could do now was drive as well as he could and inject every single ounce of skill into the race. His third place slot on the starting line up putting him in a good position to do well but his skill and the way he handled the car would be the deciding factor.

The wait on raceday was always a time on simmering tense expectation mixed with excitement.

[Audioslavia]

There was a certain kind of peace that Alec felt at this specific moment. It went against all logic. With a caucophany of screeching engines around him, rising in volume and pitch with every red light, his team's orders rattling round his brain, the sight of stationary cars all around him, an amount of potential energy all around that could only be measured in overly long scientific vocabulary. The pressure on his shoulders from those who depended on him, those who expected of him, those who supported him. Fans, team-mates, family, pit-crew, sponsors, management, engine suppliers, and to an extent the other racers whose lives or careers may prove to be in his hands as well as their own. The sense of mortal danger associated closely with a sport as ridiculous as motor-racing at these speeds and with these stakes. Despite all that, the seconds between the formation lap and the lights disappearing for the race start were always Alec's most peaceful.

There was, simply, nothing to do. No planning, no calculating, no training, no talking, no instructions, no check-list, no action required but for making sure the engine kept ticking over. No thinking. No dwelling on the past, no goals for the future. For a few seconds he was able to be blissfully without thought. An empty vessel waiting for the moment where, for a short time, instinct, adrenaline and his nervous system would take over. You can't plan your way round turn one, lap one. There was no time. There were too many permutations, too much chaos. The first corner of the race was where natural talent and experience trumped all else. He had the latter in spades. More so than most others around him. As for the former, he wasn't even in the top ten among the drivers around him, but he had enough to feel comfortable relying on in this, the wildest and most dangerous part of his job.

The embarassment of the opening race of the season, the hope of the great performances in races two and three, the annoyance at an opportunity missed by less than a tenth of a second the race after, and the disappointment in the last race's mechanical failure, all gone. Etched from his mind for two hours at least.

Alec flexed his fingers at the steering wheel. Three lights. Four lights. Five lights. Five lights. Go.

[WGPC]

CUT-OFF

[WGPC]

Raceday
Lintulahti International Circuit (Layout B)

Conditions: DRY
Laps: 58

Start  |  Pos. After 14 laps  |  Pos. After 29 laps  |  Pos. After 43 laps
 1 TAL | 1 JMD Aft. 14 laps   | 1 JMD Aft. 29 laps   | 1 JMD  Aft. 43 laps
 2 FRS | 2 FRS +3.83sec       | 2 LAN +22.276sec     | 2 LAN +18.045sec
 3 KRU | 3 LAN +23.595sec     | 3 KLI +28.237sec     | 3 TAL +18.311sec
 4 OKU | 4 WTK +24.34sec      | 4 TAL +41.537sec     | 4 KLI +19.852sec
 5 JMD | 5 TAL +25.04sec      | 5 FRS +42.113sec     | 5 FRS +36.1sec
 6 BJA | 6 KLI +28.519sec     | 6 OKU +54.295sec     | 6 WTK +48.818sec
 7 LAN | 7 BJA +28.862sec     | 7 WTK +55.507sec     | 7 NDK +61.1sec
 8 HIM | 8 JAC +32.063sec     | 8 NDK +59.556sec     | 8 HIM +66.391sec
 9 WTK | 9 OKU +33.535sec     | 9 LUN +72.745sec     | 9 ELI +75.185sec
10 JAC |10 NDK +37.375sec     |10 KRA +75.686sec     |10 OKU +77.058sec
11 IBU |11 LUN +50.499sec     |11 ELI Laps Down: 1   |11 KRA Laps Down: 1
12 WES |12 WES +51.705sec     |12 HIM Laps Down: 1   |12 JNG Laps Down: 1
13 KRA |13 HIM +54.96sec      |13 BJA Laps Down: 1   |13 WES Laps Down: 1
14 ELI |14 DIM +57.564sec     |14 JAC Laps Down: 1   |14 DIM Laps Down: 1
15 IZA |15 IZA +57.722sec     |15 WES Laps Down: 1   |15 LUN Laps Down: 1
16 NDK |16 ELI +59.689sec     |16 IBU Laps Down: 1   |16 IZA Laps Down: 1
17 LUN |17 IBU +62.606sec     |17 JNG Laps Down: 1   |17 BJA Laps Down: 1
18 JNG |18 KRA +67.046sec     |18 DIM Laps Down: 1   |18 JAC Laps Down: 1
19 KLI |19 SCH +72.921sec     |19 LEM Laps Down: 1   |19 SCH Laps Down: 1
20 DIM |20 JNG Laps Down: 1   |20 IZA Laps Down: 1   |20 IBU Laps Down: 1
21 JOH |21 SZR Laps Down: 1   |21 SCH Laps Down: 1   |21 LEM Laps Down: 1
22 LEM |22 LEM Laps Down: 1   |22 SZR Laps Down: 1   |22 RVR Laps Down: 2
23 SZR |23 RVR Laps Down: 1   |23 RVR Laps Down: 1   |23 SZR Laps Down: 2
24 SCH |24 CRU Ret. Lap 6     |24 CRU Ret. Lap 6     |24 CRU Ret. Lap 6
25 RVR |25 KRU Ret. Lap 2     |25 KRU Ret. Lap 2     |25 KRU Ret. Lap 2
26 CRU |26 JOH Ret. Lap 1     |26 JOH Ret. Lap 1     |26 JOH Ret. Lap 1

Pos # Driver               Team				Race Time	Behind Prev	Points
 1 56 Terho Talvela          	1:14:59.278	0:00:00.000	25
 2  2 Jean Mercer-Daly       	1:15:09.260	0:00:09.982	18
 3  1 Ryker Lane             	1:15:21.887	0:00:12.627	14
 4 25 Jessica Franssen       	1:15:35.547	0:00:13.660	10
 5 77 Juracai Klianiota      	1:15:37.640	0:00:02.093	8
 6 47 Erica Okumura          	Laps Down: 1	0:00:45.507	6
 7 55 Asao Nadakei           	Laps Down: 1	0:00:03.851	4
 8 50 Jang Xiaopeng          	Laps Down: 1	0:00:10.976	3
 9 31 Cesaro Whittaker       	Laps Down: 1	0:00:01.772	2
10 23 Jasmin Kranjska        	Laps Down: 1	0:00:06.658	1
11 17 Lourdina Westgrens     	Laps Down: 1	0:00:05.877	
12  7 Ethan Ellis            	Laps Down: 1	0:00:01.067	
13 16 Alexander Lund         	Laps Down: 1	0:00:11.829	
14 42 Alex Dimitrianov       	Laps Down: 1	0:00:03.849	
15 36 Reva Izalio            	Laps Down: 1	0:00:03.696	
16 64 Moe Himura             	Laps Down: 1	0:00:19.581	
17  5 Juliano Lemos          	Laps Down: 2	0:00:06.927	
18 20 Mick Schramm           	Laps Down: 2	0:00:00.286	
19 99 Nate Jackson           	Laps Down: 2	0:00:01.784	
20 14 Sigur Bjarnason        	Laps Down: 2	0:00:16.256	
21 52 Sayono Souzare         	Laps Down: 2	0:00:25.038	
22 12 Ranveer Singh          	Laps Down: 2	0:00:14.247	
23 71 Rustom Ibuna           	Ret. Lap 56	
	
DF 51 R.L. Cruisin           	Ret. Lap 6		
DF 27 Gregori Krupin         	Ret. Lap 2		
DF 10 Jennifer Johnson       	Ret. Lap 1

Drivers' Championship Standings

Pos	#	Name			Team			Pts	Wins
1	2	Jean Mercer-Daly	Nexus Racing		53	1
2	47	Erica Okumura		Polaris			51	1
3	14	Sigur Bjarnason		MRT			49	1
4	56	Terho Talvela		TRAE			47	1
5	71	Rustom Ibuna		MRT			46	1
6	20	Mick Schramm		Omni Racing		37	0
7	1	Ryker Lane		Nexus Racing		35	0
8	64	Moe Himura		Arada			31	1
8	50	Jang Xiaopeng		Omni Racing		31	0
10	16	Alexander Lund		McPahan			24	0
11	42	Alex Dimitrianov	McPahan			22	0
11	25	Jessica Franssen	VMR			22	0
13	55	Asao Nadakei		Arada			18	0
14	77	Juracai Klianiota	TRAE			12	0
14	12	Ranveer Singh		TIF 13			12	0
16	27	Gregori Krupin		VMR			10	0
17	52	Sayono Souzare		Polaris			9	0
17	22	Kyoko Fujisaki		Kissan Motorsport	9	0
19	10	Jennifer Johnson	WGPC Eelandii		8	0
20	99	Nate Jackson		TIF 13			7	0
21	31	Cesaro Whittaker	MSA-SinVal		5	0
21	23	Jasmin Kranjska		Kissan Motorsport	5	0
23	17	Lourdina Westgrens	Bitten Heroes		2	0
24	36	Reva Izalio		WGPC Eelandii		1	0
25	5	Juliano Lemos		Bitten Heroes		0	0
25	51	R.L. Cruisin		MSA-SinVal		0	0
25	7	Ethan Ellis		Kissan Motorsport	0	0

Constructors' Championship Standings

Pos	Team			Points
1	MRT			95
2	Nexus Racing		88
3	Omni Racing		68
4	Polaris			60
5	TRAE			59
6	Arada			49
7	McPahan			46
8	VMR			32
9	TIF 13			19
10	Kissan Motorsport	14
11	WGPC Eelandii		9
12	MSA-SinVal		5
13	Bitten Heroes		2

[Karditan]

A few weeks back, just after the Vulkanian Grand Prix...

"Alright," Acela started to cede, "I was almost impressed there."

Slick was sprawled out on the couch next to her, the evening Fillydelphia sun bathing the condo they'd chosen to spend the weekend in, hooves over his eyes. "So fucking close, that was a fantastic run. Streaking up ten spots in as many laps, whoof."

"She's not got a winner's mentality, I tell you. Being past twentieth in the first place so that you have to claw your way back is bad enough, but then you get right up to the edge of placing and plant yourself there for a full quarter of the race?"

"'Winner's mentality' is a bunch of bullshit and you know it. The KBL kicked out all of its 'gritty, winner' managers before the war because they were shit."

"Fine, the killer's instinct, whatever. There were a dozen times I could've done an overtake that she just didn't push at all."

"If you were driving in that you'd have been in the tires by the tenth lap. Vulkanian roads look way narrower than ours, and you always sucked at the tracks with a bunch of ninety degree turns."

"Nothing you're saying is actually defending her, you know."

"...I know," the pegasus sighed. "I just want to see Reva do well in something. I feel like we... somehow got in her way more than we helped."

"Fuck that, 'got in her way'. We bought her one of the safest childhoods that existed back then, got her in a car young. We couldn't have done anything more to blossom her into a real racer."

"Maybe that was the issue, though. That we focused too much on making her a racer, rather than, like... our daughter?"

"For Luna's sake, Slick, I told you to stop watching those blasted soaps. Life isn't some fucking hack's half-backed narrative."

[Aboveland]

Lintulahti International Circuit

Podium Celebration

Terho popped the cork at the crowd and shot a vigorous stream of foam and sparkling wine at Jean Mercer-Daly's face, the far more gentle spray of Ryker Lane's bottle trickling down his back. He made sure to bask in the glorious sting of the liquid in his eyes.

~~~

Lap 1

The pounding of Terho's temples slowed his start. The milliseconds long delay was enough to see a matte grey blur rocket out of his wing mirror and into reality ahead. Another botched fucking start. Great.

Terho imagined the air horns and celebratory chants emanating from the trapezoidal grandstand inside turn 2, as Nanna's V10 drowned out the voices of thousands of Abovians praising their idol in unison. His Tropicorp rubber clawed at the fresh, unusually sticky tarmac, the bay breeze bastardized into a hellish jet of air tugging at his visor from the car ahead: Coalescence. The lap record holder ought to know his way around the circuit. Around the outside of the second turn and down the inside of the third, moving so much like the car ahead it seemed tethered to his own, Terho overtook one, two, three drivers, going into turn four fourth overall; the podium now consisting of a Chase Cutter sandwich with Franssen as the filling and Mercer-Daly as the top bun.

Nanna ripped through the esses, turns five, six, seven-eight, Terho's heart beating with the intensity of a hundred tribal drummers. Into the braking at turn 9, and Cesaro Whittaker lunged down the inside, the local boy's evasive maneuvers ruining his uphill stint. Fifth overall it was for the time being.

The tense three way cat and mouse between Lane, Whittaker and Talvela was a laps long ordeal, Terho's forearms bulging at every opportunity he found to overtake Whittaker, later dismissed for the great risk they entailed. Ryker's unexpectedly long elaboration on the easiness of the racetrack was ripe in his mind: when the Nimban shook his arms in frustration, Terho rued his word choice of "easy", supplanting "simple" for it in immediate hindsight. Yet his words couldn't be more precise. Like his great-great-aunt no-name, and as the caboose in the slipstream train, he fixes his gaze on every graceful move the cars ahead make. An enthralling race for the spectators, a vein-popping, knuckle-peeling task for the drivers.

On lap 40, Edvin's frantic, flustered, nail-clipping-impeded voice croaked viciously through the car radio.

"Terho, the drivers ahead are pitting for their final stints. Kick that engine until it begs you for mercy, shred those tires until you're down to your rims, and make the insides of your gloves gory with shavings from the palms of your hands. I want you to win this one."

For once, the Abovian reserved a witty reply. He was icy and audibly stern. "Hm," he affirmed.

"What? Confirm, please," Edvin said, the trembling in his speech impossible to occlude. Terho disconnected the radio from his car. Edvin nodded, smiling.

In the middle of the eternal turn 9-10 straight, the Abovian flicked his right thumb at the steering wheel. His fuel surplus was more than enough to put the engine into the insane R4 mode, his tyres were fresh and had been excellently nursed for a final push, and his mind was focused. He could see nothing else but the track. His opponents were now enemies caught in his crosshair. He was going to either win or, quite literally, die trying.

Lap after lap, his gap ahead vanished before his eyes at an alarming rate for the podium drivers at risk. By the 43rd loop of the race, Mercer Daly had lost four seconds to his rivals, perhaps leading too comfortably; Terho was attacking his rivals like a starving feline, Nanna agonizing at every push of the throttle and pump of the brakes. He'd managed to slip past Juracai on the esses, gaining better traction on the exits of the turns while battling his teammate side by side, and was now halfway past Ryker Lane, the nub of Nanna's nose creeping closer to Coalescence' front right wheel.

A plume of smoke, and Terho blockaded turn one. Into second place he slipped.

Nanna's infallible reliability was starting to show fatigue marks. Her upshifts were rocky, her downshifts abrupt, and her orgasmic wails were beginning to show pain rather than pleasure. Terho's team radio was still off, but he could almost telepathically sense Edvin's heart-gripping nerves. He turned the engine back down to R3 mode; his championship bid could suffer from a blown engine, but it wouldn't from a podium.

With every passing circle of the racetrack, Terho adjusted his technique. Fast in, fast out, straight in, straight out; he imagined the circuit as a straight line with a few obstacles in the middle, not as a conjunction of corners. The time gaps ahead proved this was the correct philosophy; somehow, he’d narrowed down an 18 second gap to one worth just a few moments.

Lap 51, turn 7B. Jean Mercer-Daly's brake light strobes into the second half of the open hairpin; Nanna's V10 bellows harder. The Esmerelian eases into the line for the hairpin before the straight; Terho nearly ejects his steering wheel with the understeer-inducing butchering of the turn. It pays off. The Chase Cutter's rear number 2 disappears into the straight, brrrting off the kerb on the exit of turn 9B.

It reappears on turn 10, emerging from a billow of thick gray vaporized rubber, this time on the nose of the Nimban machine, visible only in Terho's left rear view mirror. He keeps his left hand firmly on the steering wheel lest his car careen into a tire barrier; he fights the urge to stick up a digit in a derisory gesture. He can barely contain giggles and smiles. At the end of lap 56, Terho launches his right hand into the air, index finger standing proud and draped in an Abovian flag design, jabbing violently at the sky. His team radio switches back on as he releases a war-cry shriek of elation. The crowd nearly jumps from the grandstands. He’s never had a sweeter victory than this one.

[Sorlovia]

Lintulahti International Circuit
Lintulahti, Aboveland

Spectators Box

Dmitri had seen the crash from his spectators box high in the grandstands. He'd been watching his fellow Sorlovian racer closely and had let out a loud gasp when it happened. Gregori had started out well and it had looked like he would do well in the race. But it seemed fate had other plans for him and this particular interval in time.

Gregori had arced around the bend coming onto the straight and it'd looked like he was in for a clear slingshot down toward the straight. But as he came out of the bend the front two tyres on his car had burst in a spectacular explosion that sent rubber high into the sky. He'd looked on in shock as the nose of Gregori's car had gone down into the asphalt sending it careening into the barrier wall.

"Shit!" Dimtri had exclaimed in that moment "Get out of the way!"

Emergency crews had rushed to the aid of Gregori's stricken car pulling it safely to the pit before any other racer could come screaming round the bend into the back of it. Dimtri had watched with his breathe held tight as the paramedics pulled an unconscious Gregori out of the car to rush him to hospital.

Even in the midst of his concern for his countryman Dimtri still thought of his career. He hadn't yet given up on being picked by a racing team. He'd been training hard and doing his very best to win the attention of any team that still had a space left. It was reasonably late in the season but he refused to give up on his dream.

----

Fortunately for Gregori, and for VMR, the crash hadn't been fatal. His car might have been heavily damaged but he was still very much alive. A little injured, but alive. When his front two tyres had blown Gregori's head had been slammed hard into the side of the cockpit knocking him out cold. it had all happened in a blur leaving Gregori feeling foggy and unsure of what had happened. He'd been fortunately in that his racing helmet had protected his head preventing any serious injury other than a splitting migraine.

He awoke four hours after the race in a daze to be informed that he'd be required to stay for two nights in the local hospital so he could be closely monitored. After much insistence the nurse had ensured him that he'd be able to race in the next race so long as he rested up over those two days to let his body heal. He might have escaped serious injury but a hard head-knock like that needed rest and relaxation for the recommended time.

"Thank God I'm still here! Gregori thought as he lay in his hospital bed "That crash could have been so much worse."

He reached for his smartphone, which the nurse had politely placed on his bedside tray, and pulled up his email app. Over the next few moments he would send two short emails.

Hi there Terho,

I just wanted to congratulate you on your podium finish. It's all over the news and my nurse has been rather vocal about it. I just wanted to speak to you man to man and pass on my sincerest congratulations. You're a fine racer of immense skill and it is a privilege to be able to compete against you. Anyway, you're no doubt enjoying your celebrations so I'll leave you to it.

Sincerely,
Gregori Krupin

The next was an equally quick message to Jess;

Hi there Jess,

I'm sorry that I wasn't able to watch the rest of your race. But as you will have seen I had a little bit of an incident. It is an honour to be able to race with you and I just wanted to say that I really admire your skill behind the wheel. I hope you gave those other racers a good run for their money!

Please tell the folks at VMR, if they don't already know, that I'll be out in a couple of days. Luckily I was spared any serious injuries other than a nasty knock-out and a rather large blow to my pride. But I will be back in racing condition for the next raceday. The doctors just want to keep me for a couple of nights to make sure that nothing else is wrong. Medical protocol and all that.

Cheers,
Gregori

Even in his injured state Gregori thought of other people. His compassionate nature had forced him to get in touch with Jess and the VMR crew knowing that they would be worried about him. He'd also wanted to convey his congratulations to Terho. The man was a remarkably talented racer and deserved the recognition that came with that. There was no harm in giving your rival, or another racer, a friendly compliment and congratulations where congratulations were due.

Gregori was not about to spend his downtime idly. Even now the crash and why it happened was running through his mind. Perhaps he'd been too heavy on the accelerator. Or maybe he hadn't properly adjusted for the level of g-force that he would face and had put too much pressure on the front axle. The mechanics were no doubt hard at work with his car at the moment trying to figure out what had gone so disastrously wrong. It would be fixed up in next to no time and would be waiting when he walked out of the hospital in the morning.

He'd just been informed that he'd be discharged in the morning if the test results were clear. But the doctor had strongly insisted that he take the Tuesday off in order to rest up. Maybe got out for a walk somewhere. Maybe a nice dinner with friends. Anything other than racing or training for races so that his body would have a chance to recover from the crash.

Gregori smiled and put his smartphone back down on the tray. He could think about performance tomorrow. For now, he felt like taking it easy and maybe checking out that sitcom the nurse had been so chatty about.

[Mattijana]

Kopylov InternazionRing, Centre-North Mattijana

Spring had well and truly hit the Rekvadas hills. The flowers were starting to bloom on the hillside, the trees had the beginnings of some leaves on them and the weather had become much warmer, if a little more changeable.

A little bit of sun was creeping in through the big sheet of glass in the hospitality area of the pit building. The rest of the sky was more grey and fluffy, but it was a change from the frequent drizzle of the winter months.

Like a few weeks ago, track manager Izara Keunssberg and head steward Lara Janz were sitting on a pair of bar stools in the expansive, but otherwise unoccupied room. Plans for the aprés-race party on the weekend of the Grand Prix tsa Mattijana were starting to take shape and the pair had met to discuss their progress with three weeks to go until the big event.

Janz had been less enthusiastic about Keunssberg's ideas when they had initially been presented, but she had got on with things productively. The catering was probably the biggest challenge of the evening and having the experienced steward onside would be a massive help.

"How's the menu shaping up?" Asked Izara.

"It's coming together. The chefs were a little uncertain at first, but they've managed to make some adaptations to the usual mass-catering fare so it's more approachable for an international audience. We've managed to secure some good bulk orders for most of our ingredients as well."

Lara pushed a draft of the menu across the polished wood.

Aperitifs

-Puklavec prosecco
-RotesJuliana: Jägermeister, Antaljan lime and grapefruit juice.
-GroseVada: Revinkan Campari, Antaljan Orange, Kranjagrad Rhubarb.

Starters

-Woklase Juliani: Grilled mint Sausages on a bed of asparagus with a cider and parsley sauce.
-Garnjele Savikani: River prawns on a bed of rice with paprika and chili.
-Zopa tsa Kirsha: Cherry soup served with crusty bread.

Main Courses

-Ballaja Kranjagrada: Lamb with a tomato, oregano and mint sauce in a crusty bread bowl, served with spiced fried potatoes.

-Marana Limona: Juliana River trout with a lemon and parsely sauce served with new potatoes.

-Pilza Kamanja: Wild mushroom stew with crispy potatoes and crusty bread.

Desserts

Käskuche tsa Kirsha: Cherry and chocolate cheesecake with chocolate and hazlenut ice cream and a dark chocolate sauce.

Hönigsharztörte: Honeycomb and toffee tart topped with honeycomb and caramel.

Bisket tsa Jabolka è Rarbar: Apple and Rhubarb crumble with rhubarb ice cream and a caremalized apple sauce.

Käsevard: A selection of regional cheeses and biscuits with local seasonal fruits.

Kaffi: Coffee made with beans from Shalkar, made to taste and served with Amaretto biscuits.

"The order for the river trout and the mushrooms still need some negotiation, but everything else is pretty much sorted. The chefs seem pretty confident they can pull it off as well."

"Excellent." Replied Izara softly, but assertively enough to show that only complete organisation would do. "I trust you'll have those more troublesome items sorted by the end of the week. Have you planned where best to put the musicians?"

"Yes. There's a good spot in the corner next to the double doors for the piano. It's nice and out of the way of the serving staff and guest walkways, but can still be seen and has good access to the light as it's next to the doors. The balcony nearest to the bar is where we want the acoustic act to go and then the DJ can go at the far end of the hall so all the electronic equipment doesn't get in the way. Do we know who's doing that yet anyway?"

"We've got Jan Marlenko from the Burges conservatoire to do the piano session and Matej Bostjanovic from MFO Radio to do the decks. Katarina Klamaja's manager has been a bit trickier to get through, but she's interested in doing the event, so it's just the formalities we need to sort out now."

"Excellent. For the chefs and furniture people, do we know exactly how many people we're actually inviting?"

Izara seemed a little more uncertain about this particular topic.

"We're inviting all the drivers and one person of their choice. Then there's another 5 representatives from each team and a few of the race and WGPC organisers. Comes to about 130 in total."

Lara did a spot of chin stroking.

"Hmmm. It's more than we're used to doing, but it should be manageable and there's enough room up here. I should be able to get the guys downstairs to agree to that."

"Thanks Lara. I'll get going with the invites."

The steward let out a polite, albeit fairly cool smile.

"You're very welcome."

---

The Kopylov InternazionRing and the nation of Mattijana warmly invites you to a party to celebrate the World Grand Prix Championships

The event will take place the evening after this season's Grand Prix tsa Mattijana and will feature drinks, a meal featuring the local central-northern cuisine and ingredients, live music from Katarina Klamaja and a DJ set from MFO Radio's Matej Bostjanovic.

Finer details of the arrangements will be released closer to the event. All drivers are allowed to bring one guest with them. Teams are allowed to bring 5 representatives and are strongly advised to represent a range of team roles within their selection in the interests of diversity and parity.

Please offer your correspondence within two weeks of receiving this invitation to say whether you will be attending or not.*


We look forward to welcoming you to Mattijana and the Kopylov InternazionRing.

Circuit manager Izara Keunssberg and Mattijanan minister for sport Julian Petrov

*-Don't feel you have to reply as part of an RP. If you don't, we'll assume you're coming anyway unless it's explicitly stated you won't be for whatever reason. Thanks!

[Krainin]

Outskirts of Josenburgh, Vestrad, The Krainin Isles

Jennifer is driving down a highway in the countryside listening to country music. She turns down a dirt road. After a couple of minutes she reaches a driveway and turns on it. The driveway is lined with trees. A clearing opens up and a two story country-style house comes into view. Jennifer stops next to the garage. Before she gets out of the car her phone vibrates. Looking at her phone, she sees that she got a text from Josh. 'Hey, Jen. Have you made it home yet?'

Jennifer answer back, 'Yep. Just got home.'

'Good. Just remember that your only going to be here for like two days.'

'Got it.' Jennifer puts her phone in her purse. She gets out and locks her car. She takes a deep breath and walks towards the front door. She presses a button next to the door and a bell is heard. Inside there is muffled speaking. After nearly a minute the door finally opens. Standing there is a 50-year-old woman named Amanda, Jennifer's mom.. She has medium length blond hair as opposed to Jennifer's medium length brown hair. She is also slightly shorter than Jennifer as well.

"Jennifer? Wha- What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd come by to see you Mom."

"Well, come in. Come in." Jennifer walks into the house. They enter the living room. It's a decent sized room with a 45 inch TV above a fireplace, pictures of the family on the wall, some trophies on both sides of the TV, and a large couch on the other side next to two chairs and a coffee table. Sitting on the couch is David, Jennifer's dad. He's about the same height as Jennifer, he's average build with short brown hair and a scruffy beard.

"Hey, Dad."

"Jennifer, sweetie. Good to see you." says David as he gets up.

"Careful, honey." says Amanda as she hurries over to help David up.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," David says as he's rubbing his back. He walks over to Jennifer and gives her a hug.

"How are you doing, Dad? How's your back?" asks Jennifer as they break the hug.

"It's fine. Only have six more months of treatment before the doctor says I'm good. That's only..."

"Only if it gets better," interupts Amanda.

"Right. Right," says David as he points at her. "So what are you doing here? I thought you were part of that W..P.. what ever it's called."

"WGPC. World Grand Prix Championship. Anyway, I just wanted to see you guys. I've missed home."

"Aww, we've missed you to sweetie." says Amanda. David starts to sit down.

"So, how've you been so far. In the racing I mean?" asks David.

"Well, umm..."

"Do you too want some tea?" asks Amanda as she points towards the kitchen.

"Yea, Mom."

"Yes, honey." Amanda nods and walks towards the kitchen.

"Anyway, we've raced six races so far and I've only finished two. Neither of those two finishes were on the lead lap." says Jennifer as she sits down next to her father.

"Aww, Jen. That sucks."

"I know. I'm doing terrible." David puts his hand on her back.

"Don't be so hard on yourself Jennifer." David takes his hand off her back. "This is only your first year and it's a different style car than your used to. Don't think you'll be great at everything. The bigger the ego you give yourself the harder the failures are." Jennifer looks away.

"I know. I know." David places his hand on her knee. She glances over at him.

"Hey. Do you remember my rookie F1 season? In twenty races I had nine DNF's and only finished on the lead lap four times. Yes, you're a good racer, arguably better than me, but don't expect to win right away and don't let these DNF's drag you down. Just have fun. Your doing something I only dreamed of, but never got to do."

"Thanks Dad." David smiles as Amanda walks into the room with hot tea.

"Here you go you two."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Thanks, Amanda."

"Hey, Mom. Can you put in a movie?" Amanda lays the tray of tea on the table.

"Sure, what do you want to watch?"

"Umm, Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey."

"Alright." Amanda grabs the movie and puts the disk in the DVD player. She sits down with Jennifer and David.

[Esmerel]

Rykinsvik, Vulkanas
Sunday, 25 March 2018

"Hmm. Ryker, maybe you could be more specific? Esmerel has a lot of tracks. I could arrange an opportunity for us to have a private day at one of them. Here, I even have a brochure for you with all of the details."

The brochure listed Esmerel's most famous tracks- the Raleigh Hill Circuit near Lapiz Point, the Rockford Hill Circuit in, well, Rockford, the Forest Cross Raceway, which would later host a championship round this season, and the Bayview Dome Circuit, which had hosted a WGP2 test day.

"Sure, this conversation was shorter than I expected, but it is interesting what will happen due to it. I've got to go and discuss things with the mechanics. Pick whichever one sounds the coolest. Let me know what you think later."

Jean walked off to discuss things with the mechanics- and how they could make sure a race like this would not happen again.

--------------------------------------------------

Lintulahti, Aboveland
Sunday, 1 April 2018

Jean was second only to Talvela. So close. Comparably speaking, as the gap was nine seconds. Jean was even leading by twenty at 75% distance. But Talvela was a man on a mission. While he hadn't had a horrible season thus far, it could have been better, and he needed an opportunity like this to catch up.

Jean, however, was both elated and furious. But, on the cooldown lap, he had a few thoughts. He had realized something. He was changing. This brought up something in Jean's memory- a video game he had played years back, before he drove cars for a living. A certain character in that game had some thoughts that Jean remembered. His name was... Ragnapunch. These were his words.

Conflict and war is the crucible in which we evolve.

Jean had evolved.

Every battle... makes us stronger.

Jean was stronger.

Those who fall will be forgotten. Those who rise up... their names will be remembered forever.

Jean had risen up.

His name was still Jean Mercer-Daly, but if you didn't know that he was a different person than who he was all those months ago. He was wiser. No more were the days of arrogance. It was the age of survival and endurance. Conflict was a certainty. But he knew that. And he was ready for every battle.

As Jean stepped onto the podium, he received a light jeer from the Abovian crowd. It was the cost of his actions. Jean just knew that he didn't have to pay too much if he knew what he was doing.

So he stuck out his hand to the man on the top step. Jean muttered two words out of his mouth.

"Good race."

And the world waited for this pivotal moment.

[Sorlovia]

VMR Headquarters Test Circuit
Thursday, April 5th 2018

Gregori had been discharged from the hospital early on Monday morning. As it turned out the crash had left him with nothing more than a bruise to his pride and a headache that passed after a couple of days. He'd booked the first available flight back to Vangaziland and had gone straight back to the test circuit and his freshly repaired car. He'd been away from it too long and had already been able to feel his "racing muscles" flexing with anticipation and longing. Racing was something a true racer could not go without for too long. It ran in their blood and left them feeling restless when they were not able to partake.

Being back in his car with the test circuit disappearing beneath his wheels felt right. It felt right, it was where he belonged and where he dreamed of being every time he was away from it. It was in his blood after all. He'd recently found out from his sister that their grandfather had been a racer back in Sorlovia. Their father had even admitted that he'd dabbled in racing in his younger days only giving it up when their mother fell pregnant with them.

"This bad streak isn't going to stop me." Gregori thought as he eased into the third turn on the test circuit "It's just a set back. I will break through it. "

He accelerated coming out of the bend and smiled at the rather satisfying roar of his engine. It was a strangely comforting noise that made him feel at home. Others seemed to find it distinctly intimidating but he drew peace and comfort from it. Like the purr of a cat or a pleasantly familiar smell that reminded you of home. For Gregori it was the smell of burnt rubber, the roar of the engine and the striped lines along the edges of the circuit. These were the things that brought him comfort and a sense of peace.

Gregori accelerated heavily down the straight savouring the sight of the scenery flashing past on either side of him. His car ate up the asphalt like a hungry predator devouring its prey. His engine roared like a triumphant mountain cat. Clearly the mechanics had put some high quality work into his car during his stint in hospital. It handled better and even seemed to go faster. Perhaps they had finally been able to work out the bugs and performance issues. With a grin he eased back on the accelerator coming into the next bend before planting his foot again to emerge out the other end in a burst of speed.

Faster, better handling and more careful approaches to the corner. Ease up on acceleration when entering the bend and increase thrust when coming out of it. Drive into the corner in order to use the slingshot effect to propel himself out the other side like a torpedo hot from the tube. Adjust for the changing environment and the current condition of the track. Adapt speed and handling where it was needed. A thousand tiny adjustments throughout the entire race. Focus on nothing more than the car and the track ahead. Keep your hands steady and your mind sharply focused on the car. Listen to it, feel it and work with it. Like a dance.

The reporters would be waiting to interview him after his crash but they could wait. All could think of at the moment was his car and the test circuit. He'd been away too long and needed to make up for lost time. The media would always be available for an interview at a moment's notice but he only had so much time to spend training. They would want to know about the crash, how he was feeling after it, how his fans had reacted and all manner of endless questions but for now he refused to think on it. The rest of the world fell away until there was nothing left but him and his car on the circuit. Perhaps Jess and the VMR executives were watching. If they were he would give them quite a show. The crash had temporarily delayed him but it had not stopped him for even a moment. It had not doused his passion for racing even one bit.

[Aboveland]

Lintulahti International Circuit
Lintulahti, Aboveland
Wednesday

Edvin and Aada were hunched over an LCD in the now relatively dormant Lintulahti paddock, comparing Terho's simulator output around Circuit Grandeville to the car's actual telemetry readings after its tremendous home win earlier in the week. The simulation rig had gathered a noticeable amount of dust over the past months, the real-world development of AGP001 seen as far more valuable than virtual performance around a circuit in optimal conditions, with home improvements seen as the key to a rapid development. The initial races of the season mostly consisted of tight, twisty, technical racetracks, and those on the opposite, favorable end of the spectrum were test tracks for other prestigious teams. However, with the winds of change giving TRÆ a tail-end boost as the circuits on the calendar shifted to a more aggressive bias, a mid-season resurgence from the former champion and his home grown team seemed probable.

Sure enough, the simulator tests weren't terribly accurate. The team had made some very minor improvements to the engine and floor during the week, and a few flying laps around Lintulahti in conditions similar to those of qualifying yielded slightly improved results. Therefore, while comparing the performance of the car around a foreign track with the upgrades factored in to flying laps around a circuit without counting the upgrades into the equation seemed a little pointless, Edvin defended his decision. They could kill two birds with one stone, giving Terho track knowledge, a setup base to work with, and still give usable data to be compared on Friday's practice laps.

~~~

In reality, Terho wasn't as focused as he had been during the race.

It was to be expected, really; he doubted Sigur Bjarnason or Ryker Lane were in battle mode in their daily lives either. But as Terho stepped out of the simulator, slightly sweaty and still buzzing with adrenaline, he felt a degree of emptiness inside him. He felt it connected to his focus mode, to the other drivers on the grid, to something he knew having changed. And yet, he couldn't figure out exactly what it was. He was definitely not sad, or disappointed, or anxious, or angry. He was, in fact, pleased, excited, motivated, confident, anticipating another good run around the fetus shaped track in Lisander.

But something had changed, and it wasn't even with him.

Terho packed his things after his simulator runs, waved goodbye to Aada, and promised Edvin he'd meet him at their flat in Iskajärvi. He left the track for Lintulahti Lauttalaituri with a steady stride, earbuds on, playlist blasting, head down, and hands in pockets. He'd carry his duffel bag all the way to the ferry pier; he wasn't in the mood for a cab. Aboard the ferry, the same story ensued. Entranced, locked away in a world of his own, Terho stared at the glistening icy water licking at his window below, still unable to find an answer to what it was he was missing.

Upon arrival to Iskajärvi, after a short five minute walk from the pier to his apartment, Terho threw his bag on his bed and replaced his now uncomfortably warm shoes with a fresh pair of sandals. He lunged onto his bed, burying his nose in the fresh, rarely used sheets. He chucked away his sweatshirt, stared at the bay below his window, and grabbed a gently scented towel from his closet. He needed a sauna.

The softly scorching breeze ruffled his luscious hair as he swung open the fragile glass door, the roasted smell of wood wafting around his nostrils. With a long, awkward step, he engulfed himself in the rich atmosphere, closed the polarized door behind him, sending a brief chill down his spine from the blow of cool outside air, and rested his lightly fatigued back on the malleable cedar planks below him. He spread his arms out wide, stretching them far behind his head, cracked his wrists with a circle, and rested his hands behind his head.

He inhales.

The light mist in the air hangs tranquilly.

He exhales.

Millions of water droplets swirl upwards in a chaotic spiral.

He closes his eyes.

Mercer-Daly's hand.

"Good race," he says amid the jeers.

An echo.

"Good race."

That's it.

That's the emptiness.

The lack of a rivalry.

Terho takes his hands from behind his fluffy mane and locks his fingers together, resting his palms on his chest. Another deep breath, and a smile.

All is well.

[Former Citizens of the Nimbus System]

Abovian Grand Prix
Race Start

The lights go out.

The PA-AS system activates.

Ballistae are loosed.

Imagikinetic glows herald the reignition of hope.

The Chase Cutters strike.

Starting that instant before everyone else gives the two Nexus Racing drivers the advantage they need. In a pre-planned movement, Jean and Ryker simultaneously glide leftwards into the middle of the pack, pulling up alongside Bjarnason and Okumura and preventing them from making any moves against them before their accelerative advantage takes them ahead of the MRT and Polaris cars. Up ahead, the VMRs have got away well, well enough for Franssen to pass polesitter Talvela - but not well enough for Krupin to be able to hold off a pincer attack from the two fastest-starting cars in the competition. Jean moves to the inside even as Ryker moves further leftwards, leaving the Sorlovian blindsided and allowing both to sweep past. Terho himself, having apparently bogged down on the grid - the Nimban driver feels a pang of sympathy for his Championship contender, equipped with machinery that, even if it is quick, is clearly less advanced than Coalescence - is next. Finally he sights Jean tuck himself down the inside of Jessica just to his right as…

He can’t quite get alongside her into Turn 1.

He smiles nonetheless. Four places. Not half bad.

Now I wait.

Lap 29

“Okay, Ryker - Terho’s trying to get an undercut and we need to respond. Box this lap.”

The silver of Coalescence slides onto the platform in Nexus Racing’s pit box, its glow fading. The team themselves had relied on the undercut previously to get him in front of Franssen, leaping into the pits to be serviced to bringing him out in front of where she would be next lap, slowed by the aerodynamically-confused air flowing away from the back of Jean’s car. Ryker can thus empathise with her to a degree as Coalescence moves away from the machinery a second and a half after it arrives and enters the actual pit lane once more, slowly crawling towards the exit.

Slowly.

Slowly.

Ryker continually watches the corner of his HUD. The innocuous dot labelled ‘TAL’ rounds the final corner…

COME ON!

Finally, after an apparent eon, Coalescence reaches the lane’s end - and the end of the limiter. The full power of Imagination is available to him once more. Thus, with mere metres to spare, Ryker Lane swoops into Turn 1 in front of the TRAE of his old foe and, gaining speed through 2, emerges comfortably into third place.

“Imagikinesis and instant torque, yes! Awesome job with this car, guys, awesome job! Coalescence is the right name!” Ryker laughs in sheer joy as he rockets round the long, long right-hander of 3.

He chuckles, then sighs as he approaches Turn 4. Imagination, that felt good. “Updates on strategy, Martin?”

“Klianiota ahead of you is using the same strategy as we and Talvela are; he will come out behind both of you. Your primary objective is now to fend off Talvela to protect Jean on the older S-2 tyres. You can close up to the back of him but, if possible, avoid passing him until the very last laps of the race if you are able to. Terho appears to have been saving fuel; your tyres are a lap fresher but expect him to be quick nonetheless.”

Ryker flicks a button on his steering wheel to bring up the rear view. Behind him lies the dark shape of Nanna, its piston-driven, explosion-powered engine growling.

The Nimban considers his own Coalescence, blazing cerulean. He smirks, narrowing his eyes. Does he not know that shadows are cast out by light?

“Understood, Martin. Let’s go racing.”

Lap 43

Terho makes his move.

Into Turn 11, Ryker is just a little later on the brakes than normal, giving him poorer traction. That lets Terho close up to Coalescence’s rear wing to a slightly greater extent and, as such, Ryker goes to the inside of Turn 12 a little earlier - thus giving him poorer drive on the penultimate straight. Finally, into 13, the Nimban moves right to the inside, allowing Terho a wider angle of approach and a more natural arc through the corner. The latter is almost touching as they come through the corner, Terho slotting into Ryker’s slipstream.

Normally, Nexus Racing’s vehicle would have a significant enough acceleration advantage to pull away regardless. Now, however, Terho is on the power earlier, meaning that he is still about five kilometres per hour faster when the two cross the start/finish line.

Ryker tries to cover the inside once more - and fails. Terho slips ahead.

The Nimban mentally applauds as Nanna screams away. Well, that was fun while it lasted. Let’s see if I can’t challenge Jean.

Podium

Ryker stands on the third step. It is a step with which he is intensely familiar. He feels comfortable there, for it is the step on which he won the Drivers’ World Championship - and, well, the step which won it for him.

Well, that’s us back in the fight. The Nimban team did not claim victory here, yet it might as well have been so for all the joy that Timothy had expressed over the radio to him and to Jean. 88 points and no score for MRT. We may as well be equal first now.

‘Course, I’m still down on 35. Still, plenty of time to make up that gap. He chuckles to himself, grinning. Just got to keep getting third places.

The grin turns to a benevolent smile as Terho is handed his first place trophy in front of his adoring crowd. Ryker decides to clap him on the back - this is his moment and he deserves all the praise he can get. “Nice job. That was well-fought and well-earned!”

He sets down his own cup, then picks up his bottle. ‘Finest carbonated apple juice’. Huh. Well, I’m sure it’ll be good. Shaking it vigorously, he sprays it first on the victor, then his teammate and finally the crowd at large.

“Good race.”

Ryker turns, looking back. Behind him, Jean proffers his hand. Terho hesitates a moment, then reaches out to shake it.

Delight reshapes his visage.

[Vangaziland]

The Day of The Crash

It was late by the time Jess could get to the hospital. She had to deal with the media, after finishing the race. Her car ended 4th, which was a solid result in the midst of such a tough season. But it was hollow. She was not in the mood to celebrate when her teammate suffered such a scary crash.

In fact, the crash got in her head and kept her out of the top 3 for much of the race. The #25 car stayed in 2nd place until lap 20. There, she began to fall back, first to 4th and finally to 5th. She jumped between 5th and 6th for much of the middle of the race. She didn't seem aggressive behind the wheel at all. The team's pit and tire strategy was vanilla conservative.

She spoke of risks after the race. "After today's event, I have to join my teammate in saying that confidence in the car is not high. The Dragon is proving to be a tricky chassis." Her expression was between a smile and a grimace. "But we will tame it. She can be refined."

Jess made a light run towards the end to jump from 5th up to 4th. She stole the spot from Klianota coming out of turn 11. Her car fought to stay with the TRAE car through the technical section leading up to this hairpin. The VMR car finally gained traction here, with Jess catching Juracai off guard. She timed the run well enough to hold off her opponent.

At the end of the race, it was apparent Jess was visibly shaken from the accident. "We'll have to look into what happened there. The chassis is twitchy, to be sure. My confidence in it is waning. But the truth is that the car is just tricky to drive. You need skill to get the most out of it. I pulled 4th, which was an improvement on what I've done so far. I just need to keep on top of my lines."

She still had a lot to do around the shop before she could be released to go to the hospital. She had to help shut down the chassis and supervise while the car was loaded. She watched them load the wrecked #27 car onto a flatbed. Jenna Vandersen was handling the paperwork on the ledger, including signing the release of the next spare chassis.

Finally Jess made it to the hospital, after visiting hours. She had to argue with someone in the lobby and make a scene. Finally they decided to make an exception. Jess showed up with sadness on her face.

"Hey, I won't stay long. Just wanted to visit you while you were here. The doc in the hall tells me it's limited to bruising."

She hadn't spent a lot of time with her teammate and she felt guilty for that. She felt guilty that his car was giving him problems. Things weren't so bad though. He survived. The Vannish fans were still watching and cheering for the indigo and red. Their standings were just mediocre. It wasn't the worst fate in the world. Here they were in a foreign land. Gregori was not currently in mint condition, but he'd be back.

She could tell he was a fighter. "Make sure the docs clear you before you come back though", she said worried. "Don't hurt yourself over the team. Heal up." She was clearly worried, if not still shaken.

She then tried to take his mind off the hospital. "The Vannish Grand Prix will be soon. What a party that'll be. The atmosphere. The crowds lined up on the street corners. So exciting."

Jess pulled up a chair, sat and talked for some time. She wouldn't stay long, eventually giving Gregori a firm handshake and her best wishes. Then she took off to the airport to catch her flight back to Vangaziland.

[Mattijana]

Alex Dimitrianov was in need of a big result.

The joy of his podium finish in Vulkanas had been followed by a mediocre race in Lintuhlahti in which he had only managed 14th. For a man that prided himself on his consistency, it was not the result he wanted.

This would usually be the time where Alex ran through the events of the last collection of laps in his mind, but to be honest, there wasn't much to run through. Even the start had been pretty average.
Okay, maybe the last few laps had been a bit more exciting, but those had included the gutting feeling of being overtaken by his teammate. Lumd had been running ahead for most of the race, but had been forced into a pit-stop with around 17 laps to go and on far-fresher tyres, the Audioslavian had cruised by. It was a moment Alex wanted to forget.

Sure, he wasn't one of those 'must beat the teammate' people that seemed to be common in the WGPC, but he didn't want to be beaten in the same car and especially not overtaken.

This circuit should be more friendly however. It was still quick and acceleration focused, bit the faster sections required some thinking and skill to execute at top speed. Qualifying might be another tricky session however. His main strength was the long haul and the short sprints in the build up weren't quite to his liking.

If he needed a strong performance over a lap, it was today. Apart from the long stretch down the pit straight, overtaking would be tricky and getting close to the car in front through the middle sector before having a go would be his best bet. His usual conservative style would be in danger of being his downfall yet again.

Maybe it was time to hit out. Be more aggressive. Go for those dives down the inside that were more likely to get him into trouble, but could make some ground.

Hit out or get out, perhaps that was the way to go. Today was going to be another tough one however.

The sound of a V8 lit up in the background, echoing around the pit area and tickling his eardrums. A smell of exhaust wafted into the garage. It obviously wasn't the Nexus that had just got going, but the senses of the WGPC made him feel alive.

Time to hit the tarmac.

[Sorlovia]

The Day of the Crash

Gregori looked up from his hospital bed with a smile as Jess entered his room. Chatter from some of the nurses had suggested that a rather stubborn and insistent young woman was in the lobby demanding to be allowed to see him. He'd been unable to resist a slight grin at that.

"Thank Jess," he said with a soft smile "it's so kind of you to come. I hope I didn't force you away from your celebrations. I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay. I knew you would have seen the crash and I didn't want you to worry."

He sat up in the bed and turned to face her. He felt a twang of guilt at the fact that he hadn't yet spent much time with her and immediately resolved to change that when he got out the hospital. She was his teammate. He spent know her better than he did and spend more time with her. But the fact that she had taken time out of her schedule to come visit him meant a great deal to the young Sorlovian. It was a gesture of kind compassionate concern that was not lost on him.

"Yeah," he replied "it seems I was quite lucky to only come away with a bruises and a headache. A crash like that could've easily killed me and my nurse says she's seen patients in far worse states after those kinds of crashes. But it seems I got lucky."

Gregori then spent the next hour discussing the race with her. He listened intently while she told him how she'd done and how the rest of the race had gone down. He smiled humbly at her gentle concern for him and complimented her on her performance. He'd been learning a lot from her during the WGPC so far and watching her practice runs had given him valuable tips on how to improve his own performance. Good teammates watched and learned from each other. That was how a team got better. Mutual sharing and support.

He was slightly sad when it came time for her to leave. He'd been immensely enjoying her company but well understood that she had things to do and needed to get some rest. He slowly stood up and gave her a friendly hug before sitting back down on the bed. His nurses probably would have objected to him getting up but he did it anyway. They seemed to insist that you stayed lying down even with the slightest injuries. Something about going easy on a recovering body.

"Don't worry Jess," he answered with a soft chuckle "my nurse won't let me off the be until she is sure I'm healed up enough to leave the hospital. She's a rather stubborn but pleasant older lady. These nurses take their jobs quite seriously."

---

VMR Headquarters Test Circuit
Saturday, April 7th 2018

On a second examination it seemed he had been racing in a new chassis. He hadn't noticed at first due to his sheer drive to get back on the track and the visible familiarity of the indigo and blue car. But after his first lap on the test circuit he'd known that something was different. The second lap had confirmed it for him. It handled differently to the old one. It even seemed to handle better and it took the corners much more smoothly. The engine seemed to run more smoothly and put out more thrust. The new chassis seemed to be more refined and enhanced than his old one. As if it was a fresh young beat rearing to race where his old one had been a more broken in animal. He had to admit that he liked this new chassis with all its enhancements and alterations. Perhaps it would give him the edge in the next race. He needed a good result.

"I like the feel of this new car." he thought looking at the sleek chassis sitting in the racing garage "It's cleaner, sleeker and more efficient. Perhaps the Dragon has had a bit of a touch up while I've been away."

Unsurprisingly, the media were quick to find Gregori when he arrived at the VMR Lounge after his training session. A fresh faced young reporter and her camera crew ambushed himself outside the lounge with a round of energetic questions and camera flashes.

PRESENTER: Gregori Krupin, it's great to see you back out on the track. Can you tell us how you are feeling after that major crash?

GREGORI: Thank you! It feels great to be back. I was thinking of this training circuit the whole time I was in the hospital looking forward to when I'd be able to get back to it. As to how I am feeling after that extremely publicized crash, well, I feel great! I was fortunate to have the best healthcare in Aboveland and I really have to praise those doctors. Their bedside manner and skill is unparalleled in anything I've experienced. They had me patched me in next to no time.

PRES: Has the crash made you question the future of your career?

GREG: Not at all! I was born to race. It's in my blood and I'll continue racing until I am too old or no longer able to physically drive. When you're in this high-paced industry you have to keep in mind that crashes are a very real reality. Even the most experienced and skilled racers will have the odd crash. The trick is have you react to them and whether or not you allow them to break your spirit or keep you down. I for one am never going to give up. This was just a bump on the road. But it's very far from the end.

PRES: We here that your teammate Jess visited you while you were in the hospital. Is this true?

GREG: Yes that's true. She came to visit me after the race and really helped to lift my spirits. I really appreciate her kind gesture. She took time out of her busy schedule to sit and talk with me. Those kinds of things are what really touches my heart. Sometimes it can get a bit 'in it for me' in this industry but these visits are what really makes a team. It shows real compassion. Going to see and sit with an injured teammate. It really helps build team spirit and brings teammates closer together. It really meant a lot to me to have her visit.

PRES: There are rumours of a brewing romance between you and Jess. Can you shed any light on this?

*Gregori chuckles softly and smiles as he looks at the camera*

GREG: Ah, there are always those hopeful fans aren't there? Jess is a lovely young woman with a real compassion and a kind-heart. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think she is an attractive woman or that I don't admire her personality. But there is no such romance between us. It is just a growing friendship between two racers on the same team. But I'll be honest with you. I admire Jess a lot both for her racing skill and for who she is. My father taught me to stop and appreciate the good people in this world. To respectfully recognize a woman's beauty as well as acknowledging her skill. Sorry fans, but Jess is nothing more than a friend.

PRES: So you can't see yourself getting together with Jess?

GREG: Look, I'm sorry but I don't think it is professional to talk about this. Jess is a teammate and fellow racer that I admire highly. She visited me in hospital out of kindness and concern. Any real friend would do that. I feel that these are private matters that should not be reduced to a gossip topic. Besides, we are both intently focused on the races ahead of us. There is not time for any type of romance with anyone at the moment.

PRES: At any rate, we wish the best of luck for the upcoming race. Vangaziland will be watching you with interest.

GREG: Thank you. I indeed to do my very best for all my fans and to give them a good show. I am hoping for a good placing in the next race but I will just have to give it everything I've got.

Gregori politely excused himself from the media and slipped inside the racing lounge. Fortunately security would prevent them from following him inside and he'd be able to get a bit of peace. He'd be able to relax after his intense training session and maybe have something to eat. It was a very well known fact that the media were like sharks. They hounded their targets with unrelenting focus and seldom gave up on a story. The fact that they had sniffed out the story of a possible romance between him and Jess amused him. Clearly some fans had been whispering and seemed to have hopes for a "Race Romance" in the works. No matter what industry you were in such stories always happened. Salacious little stories that baited the media and gave fans a tingle of excitement. Jess' visiting him at hospital could perhaps have been seen in such a light. But in truth it had just been a compassionate visit by a concerned friend and fellow racer.

Sure he'd just called Jess attractive on the international media. There was no harm in recognizing an attractive young woman. It wasn't a flirt, it was a compliment. Gregori grinned at how that remark might be viewed by the fans and resolved to play a game with them whenever the chance presented itself. People liked to imagine celebrities together. Whether it was sportsman, movie stars or models. They all experienced it at some point in their careers.

[Vangaziland]

Jessica was asleep in her bed, full 'lights-out' mode. She didn't know her phone had been ringing. On the third time calling, the phone woke Jess up. The ringtone was from Vannish dueling guitarists Brash & Nightowl. Jess groaned as the sounds of psychedelic space rock clanged into her ears. It was Hectare Yulssen.

What could he want at this hour?, Jess thought. Hectare was her boyfriend though she had basically been dodging him for some time. They had moved things slightly out of the public light as they were working on a few things. Their schedules were just so busy. Hectare was the starting point guard for the world's #2 basketball team. He also had a pro career in the Vannish Basketball Organization that took up even more time.

"Hello?", asked Jess, answering with a quizzical tone.

"So I'm catching up on the VMR blog and guess what I saw." Hectare's tone was accusatory. Something had upset him.

Jess asked, "The crash?"

"And then what?" There was a pause after Hectare's query. "The news is making it sound like you had a thing with Krupin."

"WHAT?!" Jess shouted, suddenly wide awake. "I just went to visit him after the wreck."

"Yeah, but late." Hectare seemed overly suspicious. Was there some precedent to Jess dating within the team? Not technically. For some reason, spending time with Jenna Vandersen severely cut into Jessica's time for Hectare. The relationship never really recovered. Maybe that past caused Hectare to be paranoid. He had his suspicious about Jess and the Baroness, even though he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Oh my gosh... I had to help close up shop."

"Yeah but it was late."

"Well, I stopped and ate dinner first."

"You ate while he was in the hospital?"

"It was a long day at the track", Jess replied. "Look if this is about Jenna, just say so. This is too much. Gregori is a really nice guy", she said in lady code for the friend zone. Hectare was not acclimated to the term's subtlety. "The media is reaching for a story."

There was a pause. "So everything is fine?", Hectare asked.

"Yes. Now go back to bed."

The call closed. Jess fell back into the her two pillows and sunk into her DreamFoam mattress.
---------

---------

Jang Xiaopeng was on his own quest for romance. As far as he knew, this was his 15 minutes of fame. So he had 14 minutes left to find a celebrity and sweep her off her feet. Jang had hungry eyes. They did not aim short. He went for Vangaziland's most eligible bachelorette, Mina Oskoldson. She was an actress, pulling big lead roles almost every year.

Xiaopeng tried using his social media profile to start communication. His message was brief.

XiaoXiao50: Sup

She was not impressed. Her reply was also sucient.

RealMinaOfficial: Oh wow, someone hit on me online.

Mina's dart was a real stinger. Jang didn't think he would have a come back. All he needed was an in. He didn't know anybody who would be in her inner circle. Or did he? Finally all the torture of his teammate from the WGP2 might pay off. Jenna Vandersen was connected to just about everyone as a Royal socialite.

Jang called Jenna, first trying to be extra friendly. He brought up old memories and laughed at Jenna's every joke. She could tell he was about to ask for something. Finally he hit her with it. "Could you get me Mina Oskoldson's phone number, please?" He had to be extra polite, because Jenna would tease him.

She laughed right away. She told him how foolish it was. He begged and swore he had a chance. She was just 'making him run around a hoop'.

Jenna informed him that he meant 'through a hoop' or possibly hoops. But that was another story. After laughing and drawing out his request, she said she'd talk to her about it. He would have to wait.

It was two days before Jang heard anything back. Mina wasn't sold. Jenna told Jang to stand by. She might still be able to get the number. Mina told Jenna she had a date coming up. If it didn't work out, she might give Jang one of her numbers.

That was all Jang needed to hear. It was better than a no. He was riding high into his qualifying session, dreaming of the chance to talk to Vangaziland's most famous actress. Whether he really had a chance or not may have all been in his head. Especially if he kept acting so gassed. But stranger things have happened.