World Grand Prix Championship 21 [RP/results]

by **Diarcesia** » Wed Mar 26, 2025 7:23 pm

RP Ideas Credit: Auruna

Laura Haukanna smiles as she raised her fist in front of fans
(Edited from AI-generated image)

Aldauren Ginintella succeeded in what was one of the fraughter weekends of his career as a racer-turned-team-principal. That jog with the drivers in the morning of the race was the first of many actions he took to ensure his jittery team morale maintained an even keel. The outcome of the final race of the first half of the season would be an inflection point for Pryfors Bilar's future trajectory. With the potential ripple effect of long-term ramifications, Aldauren faced the more pressure of delivering something favorable in the automaker's executives' eyes, but he tried his best to hide it with his trademark celebrity-like demeanor. A perspective team member might only notice that something was weighing on Aldauren's mind with his somewhat increased level of hands-on scrutiny.

The 23°C weather was perfect. The sky was clear with no chance of rain. While both drivers are put on a two-stop strategy, Laura would start with the Trac tyres and Sam with the Rels. The task before them was daunting, but both Erik and Creusa have the sense that a window of opportunity was wide open for the team to have a productive race.

The race started uneventfully for the PB drivers and remained so for their first stint. Both kept to their respective scripts. The Vista and Needle turns played extremely well to the PF-3s' strengths and served as the linchpins of the team's strategy to ensure their overtakes stick. Sadly, Sam's chances for points were brought to virtually zero because of a sticking wheel nut in her first pit stop. That she would finish P20 through no fault of her own would grieve Aldauren, concerned that it might put another dent on the Diarcesian driver's morale.

But overshadowing this was Laura's heroic drive to finish P8. Three championship points in this weekend was as close to an ideal scenario as they could envision.

by **Indusse** » Fri Mar 28, 2025 7:11 am

OOC: This is a collab post with Crpostran staged during the pre-Patriotlandia finals. This is a two-part story, you can find the first part here.

“I don’t know if I should be more impressed by them getting the door right, or the fact they’re completely ignoring us now. Five minutes ago, I could’ve sworn we were the most interesting object for them a while back.” He offered another small glance at them. “Do you think they’ve recognised us? We’re not yet hit celeb GP drivers like Ted’s popularity yet. Orrrr (with a dramatic expression, rubbing his hands over his face), do I have something on my face? Because I swear I did my skincare routine. Must be the reflection from my face.”

Before Naveen could respond, the waiter was back, balancing the plates of lasagna, donuts, cheesecake & the drinks, settling it down on the table in a professional manner, as if he’d done this a thousand times. “There you go, gentlemen!” the waiter said, adjusting the napkins on the table. “Enjoy your meal”. Rahel nodded, but before the waiter left, called him over and asked in whispering fashion, “Those two over there”, gazing at the couple. “Do they come here every day?”

The waiter chuckled, and replied “Oh, them? Yeah, they’ve been coming daily every afternoon for the past 3 months. Same table, same order, but they’ve changed tables this time I see. Always order the cheesecake & cappuccino, at this point I don’t even have to ask!” Rahel replied “Now that’s some serious commitment” The waiter shrugged. “What can I say? Some people like consistency.” With that, he stepped away, leaving them to their meal.

Rahel picked up his fork, twirling it between his fingers before finally digging into his lasagna. “Alright, moment of truth,” he muttered before taking a bite. “You know what the real truth is?” interrupted Kalkar “You may not be a popular GP Driver, but I am. I was literally being followed by the paparazzi till here. I bet they were actually looking at me.” Both the drivers laughed and started craving the freshly made lasagna. The expressions on their faces were so vivid that it said that the food tasted so nice. Suddenly, the couples stood up from their seats and approached the drivers and they said, “Rahel, isn’t that your name? I have been keeping an eye on you since the race at Ivchenko. It is actually great to see you, you’ve got some budding talent and who is this friend of yours? I do remember him from somewhere.” Kalkar seemed very disappointed now, he said “I am Naveen Kalkar, i am also a fellow driver at the Motorworks.”

"That's where i have seen you, now i remember.” said the teen boy. Rahel wiped his mouth with the napkin, and glanced at Naveen with a teasing smirk. “Well there goes your paparazzi theory eh?” He said to Naveen, before looking at the couple. “Yeah, that’s me. Glad to see someone who watched my trial for Ivchenko. Didn’t think I left quite the impression after all”

“Well the real GP Enthusiasts also notice other drivers and not just those who end up in the podium.” said the teen boy. Kalkar, still unamused, said, “so real that you don’t even remember me being one of the Motorworks drivers.” The couple started laughing and said, “We heard that you are pretty aggressive to others, and wanted to put that to the test.” Rahel raised an eyebrow, a small smile on his face. “Oh, so this was all just a test? Shame. You should’ve seen him a few minutes back. He went full throttle on the poor waiter.” He chuckled. “Well, since you two seem interested in our table, why don’t you just pull yours over to us aswell and join us properly?” Rahel asked the two.

The boy grinned, “That’s not a bad idea! Never thought I’d end up sitting next to Grand Prix drivers! That too in this café! You sure you wouldn’t mind us third-wheeling your… team… bonding session?

The girl nudged the boy, who audibly let out a groan. “It's fourth-wheeling, genius. There’s two of them, and two of us!” Rahel replied “Great start, you two are already arguing. You’ll fit right in!” “Well, we won't be interfering in your bonding session much. This genius over here may ask you some weird doubts he has and maybe I will too and then we do have to get going after that.” says the teen girl. Kalkar without much interest replies, “what’s with the wait? Go on.”

The boy leaned forward, while Kalkar continued munching on his Lasagna. “I don’t ask any weird questions. They’re proper and factual. This lady right here isn’t smart enough to understand that.” said the boy while looking at the girl who seemed to be laughing at him. “Oi, shush” The boy said to the girl, before asking, in a very serious tone, ““Do you guys actually see anything when driving that fast, or is it all just instinct?” Rahel was not prepared for that question, and began to wonder. “That’s an easy question, and I can give you the easiest answer,” said Naveen. “We don’t really feel the speed inside the car, even when i drive at my maximum everything seems like a normal person driving while i sit inside. What you see, is not what I see.”

“Smart answer Naveen, -” said Rahel, before being interrupted by the passionate teens. “Alright, query number 2! To you Naveen” The boy said with a smirk, “Is it true that you once stared at a driver so intensely during a race that they spun out just from intimidation?” Naveen went silent in disbelief, and after some time spoke pointing to the waiter, “Do you see that waiter over there?, he can actually let you know whether my stare is actually that powerful.”

The couple exchanged amused glances, before the girl leaned forward, clearly enjoying teasing Naveen, and asked “Okay, ok, next question”, barely containing her laughter. “Theoretically speaking, if there would be no rules for a race, that is, no penalties, no track limits, nothing! What would be the first illegal thing you both would do to take advantage. And none of the “I’ll just drive faster” bullshit. We want proper mischief!” said the girl

Rahel let out a small laugh, and went silent, thinking for a while, clearly enjoying the questions. “Hmmm, if there would be no rules, I’d try, let’s just say “creative” driving”, winking at the three people, before - “I’d check if the pit lane could be a shortcut, and go through it, and maybe go through the grass or asphalt, if it’s smooth enough. I mean…Why the hell not? It’s free for all eh? And of course, if I’m struggling to overtake, I might as well play a bout of bumper cars, don't you think?” He chuckled, before taking a sip of the coffee.

“You’re smarter than you look, Rahel” whispered Kalkar. Kalkar then turned towards the teens, “Pretty mischievous you folks are, no doubt in that. Did those *proper and factual* questions of yours come to an end?” The girl & boy exchanged a mischievous grin, and looked dead on to both the racer’s eyes. “Oh not yet, we’ve got one last one”, said the girl. “And this one’s for Rahel, considering his…recent form?”. Rahel could be heard remarking a barely audible “crap”. She asked him, “Be honest, have you ever forgotten your own race strategy &...just wing it?”

Rahel thought, before putting out a sheepish smile. “Welllll, I wouldn’t say I forgot my strategy, per se….” trying to sound casual, “More like…umm..adapted it? Yes, I adapted it”, struggling to keep a straight face. The boy replied “Adapted? So..not a full-on panic mode?” Rahel looked more relaxed as he thinked for a while and replied “Okay, a little bit panic, to be honest. But, hey, all races are like that right? You think…you’ve got a plan, but..then things just happen & fall out of place. In such a scenario, you have to improvise. Right?” He asked Naveen, as if asking him to join in & end their interrogation.

“Right or rather we don't reveal those little tricks. You guys ask questions worse than those paparazzis or wait a minute… are you one of them?” Naveen looks directly into their eyes with suspicion. “I should have thought of this earlier, the way you entered, approached and ended up asking these questions are all… uh weird”. “Oh Naveen, don’t be so doubtful about these fellows here. They’re just some random teens and the waiter did say they’ve been around for some months now.” says Rahel. “Come on, you two. What are your names?”

“We are no paparazzis, I am William and that’s Sarah. We are just some random fans and enthusiasts. We just thought we would spend some time talking to you both and ask for a small favour.” said the teen boy. “Favour?” asked Rahel in surprise. “What else, they want some free tickets for the upcoming races.” said Naveen, still in suspicion. “No not that, would you mind following us on our social media? That would not be something very hard for you guys.” answered Sarah. “That sounds possible, but what will we get in return?” asks Naveen. “We are already your fans, we will just run some fan pages for you.” answered Sarah. “That sounds like a deal,” replied Rahel. “Also one more thing…” William spoke with a long pause.”Can we get the free tickets too?”. Naveen looks at Rahel and they end up laughing out loud that everyone in the cafe starts to stare at them.

Suddenly the clock at the cafe chimes and the couple gets up from their seats. “It’s time for us to leave, or else our plans may get spoiled” says Sarah. “We hope to meet you another time, maybe when you both stand at the podium?” says William with a smile. The waiter comes over with a nicely packed bag with the dishes that the couple ordered. William took the package from the waiter, handed him the card and waved goodbye. Then turning to the racers, they spoke “We will now get going, enjoy your meal at the cafe.” and moved out of the cafe through the exit after collecting their card.

As the pair left the cafe, the upbeat mood around the table seemed to vanish. The laughter & mirth? Replaced by a quiet stillness. Rahel chuckled, “They were a bit too much to handle, but boy that was fun. Makes me think we should go for those rapid-fire interviews, you know?” “Interviews are fun when you do have some success stories to say, the current fate in WGPC makes me hate these question-answer sessions” replied Kalkar.

And with that, the silence on the table returned. Both players were now slowly eating the lasagna, relishing in it’s taste. It had gotten a bit cold, thanks to it being neglected during the pair’s “interrogation”. Rahel took a sip of the coffee, before breaking the silence, “Maybe it’ll change soon. I’m 100% sure that this is just the beginning.” Sighing, he murmured by taking another sip of the coffee, “We just need that one breakthrough right?” Naveen gave a nod, but it could be seen that he was lost in thought as well. “That one breakthrough is what i’ve been waiting for. But, it seems like our teammates are far better than us in regards to that.” says Naveen showing his disappointment.

The clock chimes again. Rahel exhales “Yeah, our teammates are getting ahead, but that doesn’t mean we’re stuck here forever.” He twirls his fork into the lasagna, before pointing it at Naveen and squinting his eyes. “You remember why we’re here right?” Naveen let’s out a dry chuckle. “Yes, to discuss how we’re single-handedly carrying the back half of the standings.”

Rahel rolls his eyes, “No, you twit! You know what I mean”. “Well let's keep hoping as we were doing all along, maybe there is going to be one day where people will keep on talking about us. I just hope that is not for the not qualifying streak.”, says Kalkar still being sarcastic all along.

Rahel sighs, shaking his head with a smirk. “You know what, I’ve been enjoying this “bonding session”. Maybe we need more of such sessions. Less, ummm, sulking? And, more team spirit? I think we should get Batu & Pierre-Louis next time aswell, will be fun, a moment to relax, regroup & share strategies. Haven’t had the opportunity to talk in detail with them, and with the mid-season break coming up, I think it’s the perfect opportunity to do so somewhere.”
“This is not so bad after all, I thought this would not end up great but my calculations have been wrong.”, Kalkar replied. “Those youngsters did make me uncomfortable for a while but that also is part of the fun, isn't it?”

Rahel chuckled, “Yes, maybe a little bit of chaos is fun after all? It keeps things interesting. We would have been casually sulking about our form till now if those two hadn’t come about. Much needed stress-reliever. I enjoyed their presence. Oh that reminds me, we should send the tickets to those two don’t you think?” Naveen nods his head in agreement and says, “You’re right. They did add some masala to our talk. We should actually send them some tickets. We do have their social media handle anyway.” Naveen takes a look at the clock hanging near the counter and then says, “I think we have been here for a while, maybe it's time we return to our cars. Shall we ask for the bill?”

Rahel stretched his arms & nodded. He waved at the waiter, who now seemed drowsy, and signalled for the bill. As they waited, Rahel remarked “You know, I almost forgot what it felt like to have a casual meal like today, without obsessing over lap times. Naveen chuckled “Careful now! You’re starting to sound as if you have achieved a work-life balance.” “Well, you can perish that thought”, replied Rahel. Rahel looked at the waiter, who hadn’t budged from his spot. He signalled again, this time, asking for the waiter to come close to the table.

As the waiter came to the table, Rahel asked “We’d like to have the bill please! And could you pack the remaining portions here?” The waiter replied “Yeah, I can pack it up. But, your bill’s already been paid for.”, before scooping up the plates & bowls to the kitchen. Both Rahel & Naveen were left confused. “I didn’t know you paid for the bill. When did you do that?” asked Rahel to Naveen. “I’ve been sitting here just like you have been for the past hour or so. When did I get up?”, replied Naveen.

“That’s a fair point.”, chuckles Rahel. Naveen turns to the waiter and asks him, “But both of us were sitting here the whole time. How could we do that or is this on the house?” The Waiter seemed unamused and after a brief silence he replied, “Never on the house, it was paid by those teenage couples who were here a while ago.” Naveen seemed very surprised about that one revelation he never thought would happen.

Rahel blinked in disbelief. “Wait…those two? William & Sarah? They paid for our meal?? Huh, maybe it’s payment for the tickets? Not sure if I should be happy, concerned or impressed.”, Rahel ended with a laugh. Naveen crossed his arms, still processing. “You think this is emotional blackmail? They’re trying to ensure they get the tickets?” “I’m touched to be honest” said Rahel, in a low voice.
“Well uh, we need to send them the tickets now, or else it seems like we are not grateful for what they did and the moment we had with them”, answers Kalkar. “After all they weren’t that bad.” Naveen after a pause says, “Looks like we do have people in here who wants us at the podium.”

Rahel smiled, taking the phone out of his pocket. “Well, let’s make it official shall we?”. He tapped across the screen, typing the usernames into the search bars, and followed them. “There we go. Followed? Check! Now just the tickets. Naveen, contact that guy, I don’t have his number.” Naveen sighed, pulling out his phone aswell, “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” He scrolled through his contacts before finding the number. As he typed a message to the agent, he muttered sarcastically “Can’t believe we’re doing this. Next thing you know, they’ll come the next time asking for pit lane access!”. After a few mins, he got the 2 tickets. “Tickets sorted, I’ve sent it to them, along with the thank you message.” Rahel & Naveen, both, glanced at the packed food that the waiter dropped by. “Well, it’s getting late & I think it’s time to get out of here.”, said Naveen.

After bidding their goodbyes to the cafe owners, they left the cafe and took a small stroll on Lakeshore Drive, as they walked to their cars. After a bit of silence, Rahel said “You know, all it took for our moods to be lifted were two teenagers ambushing us & then paying for our meal.” Naveen laughed & shook his head “If this works, maybe we should let more fans come & interrogate us more often.”

The town’s lights flickered around them as they stepped into the cool, lakeside air, the conversation moving towards predicting the outcome of tomorrow’s race, mid-season break activities & future races. Maybe. Just maybe, this could be the start of something better.

The End.

by **Hodori Motorsports** » Sun Mar 30, 2025 6:45 am

bfr.himeblog.net
The Blue Flag Report

Circle: Blue Flag Report
Post by WrenchBitch

WrenchWitch

It’s me. The birdbrain’s going to be busy with her day job over the next week so she’s left me in charge. She even sent me the spreadsheet she uses to keep track of this. She also wants me to relay that she’s going to extend the deadline for her abuse of race simulation software to after the Ajian Grand Prix.

So whatever.

Also my personal investigation is largely wrapped up now, should be done by the end of the Ajian grand prix weekend, and I do have enough supporting evidence to make an assertion regarding the legitimacy of that fuckwit’s documentation. I’m considering sending everything I’ve compiled to the WGPO, but given that they’ve given a pass on enforcing punitive action against intellectual property thieves and have instead given the perception in Hodori that they will reward it regardless of whether that was the intended message or not, I’m really not expecting them to do much of anything about punishing someone competing with a fraudulent racing license.

Let’s get this out of the way first.

Here we are after the Patriotlandia Grand Prix, the actual race instead of the entirely extraneous and idiotic sprint endeavour. Which we still have one to go. Which leaves the season with two sprint races too many.

 P  No  DRV  Driver               Constructor             LNC    BFP    MBP    Lap Rate
 1  17  LAU  Chase Cutter #17     Nexus Racing              0      0      0    100    %
 2  66  VVV  Vincent Von Visp     Urosovsky-Gatutin         1      1      0     99.698%
 3  27  NÜL  Dario Nülkeschlager  Pressley Racing           1      1      0     99.698%
 4  55  LNG  Gil Langdon          KISMO                     2      2      0     99.396%
 5  37  HAU  Laura Haukanna       GPA Pryfors Bilar         2      2      0     99.396%
 6  94  LAN  Chase Cutter #94     Nexus Racing              2      2      0     99.396%
 7  21  HAZ  Nik Hazri Lutfi      Piers Ivchenko            3      3      0     99.094%
 8   1  FAE  Brendan Faloe        Cygnus                    3      3      0     99.094%
 9  12  SOM  Ron Sommer           Viska                     3      3      0     99.094%
10  63  KIN  Nepö Kinder          Urosovsky-Gatutin         4      4      0     98.792%
11  77  TII  iBen Toralmintii     Race Eelandii VTGP        4      4      0     98.792%
12  23  C23  Cocoabo #23          Race Eelandii VTGP        5      5      0     98.489%
13  22  JOH  Nini Johnsilvaturr   Pressley Racing           6      6      0     98.187%
14  96  ARC  William Archer       Viska                     7      7      0     97.885%
15  82  LMN  Kinu Luminna         Preston Autos             8      8      0     97.583%
16  95  BZW  Hanna Berezowska     HiTEN.gpt                12     12      0     83.988%
17   9  TUV  Batu Tüvshinbayar    WGPC Motorworks          13     13      0     35.045%
18  58  KAM  Shuhei Kamado        KISMO                    13     13      0     83.686%
19  30  MAR  Otto Markul          WGPC Motorworks          20     20      0     15.408%
20  74  FTZ  Adonis Fitzpatrick   HMG Grand Prix           21     21      0     63.746%
21  14  VIA  Skiia Vialiv         HMG Grand Prix           23     23      0     69.789%
22  33  BLA  Sam Blaatschapen     GPA Pryfors Bilar        26     26      0     63.444%
23  84  ANG  Angela Ling          Preston Autos            27     27      0     72.205%
24  91  KAL  Naveen Kalkar        WGPC Motorworks          30     30      0      0.000%
25  16  KAW  Azalia Kawakai       WGPC Motorworks          30     30      0      0.000%
26  13  PLA  Pierre-Louis Archer  WGPC Motorworks          37     37      0     52.870%
27  18  RAH  Giancarlo Rahel      WGPC Motorworks          43     43      0     24.773%
28  51  CRU  R.L. Cruisin         Piers Ivchenko           51      2     49     84.592%
29  88  PRE  Ted Pressley         Ælund Grand Prix         51      0     51     84.592%
30  85  STO  Olivia Stone         Cygnus                   79      6     73     76.133%
31  40  AKS  Adriana Lillian      Eminent                  80     22     58     42.296%
32   7  DEV  Anneliese Devereux   Eminent                  95     75     20     56.495%
33  89  GTA  Abdoulaye Goita      Ælund Grand Prix        117      0    117     64.653%
34  10  ASZ  Ankei Souzare        HiTEN.gpt               277    277      0      0.000%

That Fuckwit is still at the bottom of the table, still being less useful a driver than a literal dead squid. And he’s only on the table literally because the alternative is sitting in a jail cell awaiting trial. Enter falsified documents, like he had done with several of his prior “entrepreneurial efforts” (scams) that ended with law enforcement raids. Next worst performer is Goita, getting fucked over again by Ælund’s rebadged Tropicorp piece of shit engine. Stone meanwhile earned herself more MBP.

Laukkanen, sitting in his Chase cutter making as much useful contribution as a literal dead squid while the cars does all the work, is still the only entry to have a 100% lap completion rate. Unfortunately.

Naveen Kalkar of Indusse, three races in, is still trying to punch his ticket to escape 0% Hell, an exclusive club currently consisting of himself, dropped driver Kawakai, and that fuckwit.

And we also have a new member of the meatball club: R. L. Cruisin.

Good.

 P  Constructor             LNC    BFP    MBP    Lap Rate
 1  Nexus Racing              2      2      0     99.698%
 2  Urosovsky-Gatutin         5      5      0     99.245%
 3  Pressley Racing           7      7      0     98.943%
 4  Race Eelandii VTGP        9      9      0     98.640%
 5  Viska                    10     10      0     98.489%
 6  KISMO                    15     15      0     91.541%
 7  GPA Pryfors Bilar        28     28      0     81.420%
 8  Preston Autos            35     35      0     84.894%
 9  HMG Grand Prix           44     44      0     66.767%
10  Piers Ivchenko           54      5     49     91.843%
11  Cygnus                   82      9     73     87.613%
12  Ælund Grand Prix        168      0    168     74.622%
13  WGPC Motorworks         173    173      0     64.048%
14  Eminent                 175     97     78     49.396%
15  HiTEN.gpt               289    289      0     41.994%

Ælund continues to show that their only reliability is in being sniveling, spineless Tropicorp yes-men, being the only constructor to have a full 100% of their laps not completed coming from race retirements. That fuckwit, competing with a fraudulent racing license, continues to drag down Berezowska and shit all over her efforts, between being the worst example of a waste of grid space in all of WGPC history through his continued inability to qualify and an all around shitty example of a human being through his extensive history of scams and fraud and never-my-faultism. At least this time, his fraud and lies can be directly tied to him; it’s his name on the paperwork.

by **Katzeburg** » Wed Apr 02, 2025 3:03 am

Ridgeline Raceway, Patriotlandia

History. It’s a grand old concept, isn’t it. To Katzeburgians, history is something which even to the very best and brightest of academics, makes no sense at all. The rich tapestry of Katzeburg and its history, from a feudal hell-scape to the revolution which lives in the minds of the majority of the nation’s population still to this day, and the modern era where the nation seems to quickly be coming sport-obsessed, all blend together in a way which careens from chaotic moment to chaotic moment. But to some, history is what you make of it, and over the course of the WGPC season so far, that long-prophesied historic moment - that a Katzeburgian would not only start on pole position, but maybe even win a race - seemed to be slipping further and further from view. Despite having two drivers on the grid, Gil Langdon and Ron Sommer were hardly matching the Ted Pressley and Janne Laukkanen’s of the world - in their KISMO and Viska cars they were getting in the points, but nowhere close to the top.

So when Gil Langdon smashed over the finish line at Ridgeline Raceway on pole position, many were shocked - not just within the paddock, but back home at Katzeburg as well. The tabloids had been having a field day with the young rookie, turfed out by his father and seemingly with nowhere to go - he had seemingly vanished off the face of the earth before arriving in Patriotlandia for the race weekend. Where did he go? How did it lead to him bringing what many think is a tractor of a KISMO car into first place?

And how in the hell did he manage to keep the car at the front of the pack on raceday?

That was the question which was rocketing through Gil’s mind as he shot over the finish line to start the final lap of the race, a race in which Langdon had led for the bulk of the race, only dropping out of first when he needed to pit. He had been in rare form, not even making the tiniest of mistakes to date as he built a strong and steady lead from the rest of the pack. With more than a 10 second lead over Dario Nülkeschlager back in third, Gil was cruising and a cocky smile started to creep across his face - he was about to do it. Win a race. Make history. He brushed past the opening turns with ease, allowing his mind to wander ever so slightly. After 59 laps of focus, he had earnt it. What had changed this last week which led to this? Was it that he had nothing to lose? Could it even be the kindness Ron had shown by allowing Gil into his home and providing him with just someone to talk to? Gil was thankful for the compassion of his fellow racer, but surely it wasn’t that which led to him dominating out on the course. It wouldn’t make sense. It had to be the drive. The desire to win. A desire which sets him apart from everyone else on the paddock - they all had it (except maybe Souzare to be fair), but none of them wanted to win - needed to win - like Gil did today.

But what the Katzeburgian failed to notice was the ever-creeping-closer car of second place, and as Gil swept into the slaloms ignoring the cries of his KISMO engineers - after all, he had won this race without their help - his eyes widened as he found himself curling out of turn nine level with another car - the Viska of Ron Sommer.

“Fuck,” Gil muttered to himself.

Ron Sommer had been having one hell of a race. Despite starting in 13th - a stock standard qualifying for the young Viska rookie - he had done what he had continued to excel in so far this season; rise through the ranks fast. Cutting like a hot knife through butter, Ron dazzled his way up the field with seeming ease over the course of the previous 59 laps. He had gotten lucky at times - a brazen overtake of Laukkanen through the slaloms on lap 39 and somehow squeezing just enough power to sneak past Pressley on the straight out of the needle on lap 43 were moves which in any other race would have either binned him off or been denied out of the gate. But Ron had pulled them off with a rare showing for a rookie and had he had crossed over the line heading into the final lap of the race, he had been slowly but steadily gaining on the KISMO of his national compatriot. He could feel that Gil was starting to ease off the pedal and coast to the finish line - he clearly mustn’t have been paying attention to the overall lead shrinking and shrinking over the course of the final few laps, as Ron squeezed all he could out of the Viska to close the gap.

And now he was level. Heading into the final few corners, he was fighting neck and neck for the victory with his now apparent roommate. It was surreal for the young driver, and his mind turned to home. The pubs all across Waldstein and the rest of Katzeburg would have been packed watching this dramatic conclusion to the race, seeing two of their local boys fight for a historic first. Gil’s pole position ignited a fire of interest across the nation as for the first time all season, people seemed to be caring about how they did. All eyes were on these two for this race, and they couldn’t disappoint. Both cars pulled out of the slaloms level and headed towards the Needle. Gil furrowed his brow and snapped out of his complacency; he wasn’t going to lose this race - and certainly not to Ron. Accelerating as fast as they could towards the sharp hairpin, you could feel the crowd collectively holding its breath as the cars played chicken with each other. Who would pull out first? Who would make the dramatic dive move to secure the win?

In the end, Ron was the first to hit the breaks, slowing down to approach the corner with the consistent approach he had been doing throughout the race. His forehead dripping with sweat, he had opted to tap into the well of calm and collected thoughts he often drew on in moments of pressure - that of his family; the warm comforting embrace of his father and the knowledge that he had done his best. Better to slide into second, than crash out and cost it all. Play it smart. Gil, on the other hand, did not tap into that collective as he had nothing of the sort to tap into. Gunning down the outside, Gil saw Ron back off out of the corner of his eye and decided now was the time to engage. Steering in aggressively, he went to cut off Sommer entirely - only for his car not to respond how he wanted. A sharp lockup rattled the hands of the driver, causing the car to drift out to the left of the hairpin - his aggression had cost him.

“NOT LIKE THIS, NOT LIKE THIS!” Gil shouted to himself as he rapidly tried to pull himself back onto the racing line, to try and bring the car back alongside Ron - but it was too late. As he finally whipped around turn 10, he saw the quickly disappearing colours of the Viska get smaller and smaller - Ron had pulled ahead, and would win the day. Gil had tried in vain to try and close the gap with Sommer, but the time loss from locking up was too much to recover from - a significant chunk of time spent wrestling the car back to where it needed to be, but not so significant he would drop any further than second.

But noone remembers who the runner up is. History is kind only to the winners, and as the crowd gathered around the podium demonstration shortly after, they would be treated to a beaming smile from Ron Sommer - the first ever Katzeburgian to win a WGPC race.

The following hours after the race rocketed by in a blur for Ron, as he was karted off the stage with the trophy to go through the traditional whirlwind of media interviews, debriefs, and photography to capture the moment the young rookie would break his racing duck on the grandest stage of all. He had barely the time to even offer his commiserations to Gil post-race, with the only time the two of them could get a moment together was up in lights on the podium.

“Hey man, great race,” Ron said, offering a hand to Gil. “You were fantastic out there, and I was really lucky to sneak past you at the end.”

“Thanks,” Gil sniffed. He was furious inside, but this time he had no-one to blame but himself. He had to take account for his own actions, lest he choose to remain stuck in the internal hellscape that was his own upbringing to be the best and only the best. “You did well catching up to me, to be fair.”

“I know! I had no idea how that happened, I just kept trying to push as hard as we could get it with the car, guess it’s got some speed after all,” Ron chuckled.

“How many people do you think will be watching this back home?” Gil said, turning his eyes to stare at the cameras.

“I’d imagine a lot - I just hope my dad can see me up here and know that we’ve made it.”

“We?”

“Gil, buddy - it’s a Katzeburgian 1-2. I don’t think anyone in a million years would have thought this was possible. Get on up here,” Ron said as he offered Gil a hand and pulled him onto the top place on the podium to roaring cheers. “Here - take this,” Ron said as he pulled out a small black square from his racesuit and passed it to Gil. “Wave that around and they’ll love it.”

Gil started to unfold the square, unpicking the familiar yellow and blue colours of home and alongside Ron, began to wave the Katzeburgian flag with a beaming smile. For a moment, he was just happy to be up there.

Finally, after what felt like days to the tired husk of a body which was Ron Sommer, he slammed himself down in a chair and took a deep breath in. He was back in the Viska garage, watching as staff bounced from station to station to dismantle everything and get ready to head off out of Patriotlandia. The mood was buoyant - the team hadn’t won a grand prix outside of Auruna since the Nimban Grand Prix back some two seasons ago, so people were overjoyed they had finally cracked it again. Ron stretched in the chair and pulled out his phone - he hadn’t looked at it all day, and as he flicked on the screen he was welcomed with a raft of messages and missed calls - no doubt people looking to congratulate him on his maiden win. He scanned the names; his father had left a voicemail, some of the people back at the Waldstein Racing Club had even left a few messages, but surprisingly, he had a lot of missed calls and voicemails from his mother. The fact his mother had called was nothing, but the consistency and quantity of calls and messages was something else - something didn't seem right.

“That’s odd,” Ron mumbled to himself as he scrubbed out the notification and put the phone up to his ear to listen to his mother’s voicemail. Walking down pit lane, Gil spotted Ron sitting down and took a deep breath in himself. He needed to talk about what the plan was once the two got back from Patriotlandia. While he should be able to find somewhere to live during the upcoming mid-season break, he at least needed a night or two more in Waldstein, and he had to swallow his pride to ask the race-winner a favour. But as he approached, Gil caught sight of Ron’s changing expression - from abject shock and horror to one of immense sadness, almost as if he had the life sucked out of him in an instant. He cautiously stepped up as Ron put down the phone and pushed his head downwards.

“Ron, what is it?” Gil said carefully.

“M-my dad… H-he’s had a heart attack.”

by **Tropicorp** » Wed Apr 02, 2025 8:55 pm

Phoenician/In-Motion Close Gap with Patriotlandia Sprint Weekend Sweep

WGPC21 Supplier Performance Standings (After Week #5)
[1] - 102 :: Tropicorp Racing Supply
[2] - 96 :: Phoenician/InMotion
[3] - 59 :: Brimstone
[4] - 52 :: Solymok
[5] - 5 :: Blue Sulphurate

Grand Prix de Patriotlandia présenté par ASI Industries, Ridgeline Raceway, Vilnay, Foubrac, Patriotlandia :: The first of two World Grand Prix Championship Sprint/Feature race weekends is in the books for Season 21 and it was contested in one of the two debut venues for the series on this seasons schedule, at the Ridgeline Raceway in Patriotlandia. Qualifying was not a factor for the Sprint race with the lineup set based on an inversion of the Top 13 in the overall drivers point standings for the season. Worth just 8 points to win, the Sprint race took the place of the regular Friday practice and awarded points to the Top 8 finishers. While half of those Top 8 finishers were Tropicorp Racing Supply drivers, the highest finishing of that bunch was iBen Toralmintii in 3rd place, leaving the door open for Phoenician/In-Motion and Solymok to close the gap slightly with the performance of Sprint winner Ryker Lane and runner-up Vincent von Visp.

Saturdays qualifying would be the first opportunity for the drivers and teams to stretch the limits of their speed at the Ridgeline Raceway and once again the Tropicorp Racing Supply teams were just a step behind, Solymok taking pole position through Gil Langdon followed by Brimstone's Nik Hazrin Lutfi and a surprise performance from the Blue Sulphurate supplied local driver Pierre-Louis Archer in 3rd place. Just as they had in the Sprint race, Tropicorp Racing Supply drivers showed good speed, but not speed great enough to top the scoreboard, taking positions 5, 6 and 7 on the grid including the best Qualifying lap of the season thus far for Tropicorp driver Skiia Vialiv putting the HMG Grand Prix machine into the feature event after failing to qualify for the Sprint.

On race day, it was an out-of-no where performance from Viska's Ron Sommer to storm through the field and take the win from 13th place on the grid, giving Phoenician/In-Motion a clean sweep of the weekend. With Solymok's Pole Sitter Gil Langdon hanging on for a second place finish, it once again relegated Tropicorp Racing Supply to the third position and allowed Phoenician/In-Motion to greatly close the gap to the lead, just 6 points back in the Supplier Performance Standings.

The Patriotlandia race weekend also opened up a fissure in the standings with Brimstone continuing their slide earning just 6 total points from the two events. The hard-charging Solymok brand with back-to-back Runner-Up finishes moved to within just 7 points of Brimstone for 3rd place in the standings. While they lost massive ground giving up thirteen points on the weekend to Phoenician/In-Motion, Tropicorp Racing Supply did still have the most cars scoring in the points over the two races occupying 8 of the 18 points paying positions at the checkered flag. At the mid-way point of the season, Tropicorp's Strength and consistency have seen them accrue the most points while Solymok has been able to produce the best average finish among suppliers, with all of their entries averaging a finishing position of 11.43 on the season thus far. The juxtaposition of Solymok having the highest average finish of all suppliers despite being 4th in the standings is due largely to the disproportionate number of finishes that Solymok drivers have in positions 11-16, paying no points despite outperforming over half of the drivers that showed up for the race on a weekly basis. Every single Solymok driver on the grid has two or more finishes between 11th and 16th position while every other supplier on the grid has 3 or more drivers with no finishes between 11th and 16th position. Nik Hazrin Lutfi of Piers Ivchenko does lead the series having posted 5 finishes between 11th-16th position - finishing every single feature race thus far just outside of the points.

Tropicorp Supplier Performances Standings are calculated by taking the points total of the best finisher of each supplier into consideration each week. Fastest Lap is not a consideration in the standings as presented.

Polar Grand Prix, Iskohtirinkyy, Nykipiflugpuu :: After the culmination of a great week of racing on the compacted sands of the Beach at Tropicoast which saw home team driver Indori Volcanasaur pick up their first twii.tur Support Series Grand Prix victory, it would be time for the teams of the Support Series to shake the sand out of their system and put on their studded tyres. Tropicorp would come to the table with a newly designed Walrus tyre, appropriately designed just for the unique race on the icy surfaces in the Walrus-loving nation of Nykipiflugpuu. Tropicorp's winter-weather Walrus tyre featured little studded "Walrus Tusks" to provided added grip on the temporary circuit. Practice was entertaining to say the least as the future stars of open wheel racing looked to make a name for themselves on one of the least-visited circuits on the World Grand Prix ledger. While by nature as a temporary circuit no race had been run on this particular version of Iskohtirinkyy previously, the same design and layout had been used previously to host a World Grand Prix 2 event and, prior to that, an AOCAR Stock Car series race.

From the moment the cars were out onto the Ice, it seemed that MNA Viroluki-Viska Racing had a handle on things potentially owing to the power of imagination and the ability of the Phoenician/In-Motion tyre to provide additional traction on the Ice. As the only team to use the tyre in the Support Series it seemed to be providing an upper hand as Auruna's WGP2 Champion Iina Konoa was fastest in practice while teammate Esapekka Kivimäki of Aboveland took a surprise pole position after struggling for much of the early part of the season. Team Tropicorp's Lizard King Igne Spupuo seemed uncomfortably at home on the Ice putting in the second fastest qualifying time while home town driver Taavi Kiirejaavõistejä put in an inspired qualifying performance inside the Top 5.

With the Polar Night in full force and the lights doing whatever they could to aid the drivers, the race began and the drivers gingerly progressed through the opening slalom. It all seemed to be going well until turn 9 when not everyone managed to get grip under braking for the hardest right hand turn on the circuit, with Lilo Adinora in the Krazivaran taking out Ringo Kawagishi. For the Ajian driver, it was utter frustration of a fifth straight DNF. After the safety car cleanup, things were calmer for about 15 laps until the day would end for Team Tropicorp's Indori Volcanasaur. There would be no back-to-back victories as journeyman driver Jama'obo Pegasii was undercut and a piece of the wing flew off only to be run over by Volcanasaur and getting lodged under the front wheel turning the #43 into a sled in the slalom esses. With no control, Volcanasaur's car veered off the course and into an embankment ending their day.

By races end 9 of the 24 drivers who started the event had already returned to the paddock and all but one of the drivers who finished the race would earn points for their effort. In the final laps it was a thrilling battle between Pole Sitter Iina Konoa and Karting star Evangelos Kalyftakis. Ultimately, it was the Esportivan who edged out the victory, taking fast lap of the race and maximum points to deliver the debut team Fiarti Racing its historic first ever victory. With the win, Fiarti Racing would move into first place overall in the Constructors Standings with Tropicorp Orangeworks close behind thanks to Spupuo's 4th place finish at Iskohtirinkyy, trailing the leaders by 7 points.

SKIIA VIALIV ✓

@Skiia
If you had asked me at the end of last season if we would be concerned about having no points at the halfway point of the season, I would have been perplexed. Of course, with team HMG it has been a bit of a perplexing season thus far and we can't seem to get more than one car going on any given week. Sorry for Donny who missed the race but it was nice to finally have something go in favor of our #14 team this week. 6th place feels like a win right now and hopefully we can use this momentum in the second half of the season!

#WGPC21 :: #Patriotlandia :: #ForzaHMG

INDORI VOLCANASAUR ✓

@IndoriV
Well thats a bit of reality to bring us down to earth. Had an awesome week celebrating our first win with the @Orangeworks team. Was having a blast driving on the Ice as well until I simply couldn't drive it any longer. Ran over some debris and it just eliminated all traction we had and skidded ourselves right out of the race. It was fun to run on the Sand and on the Ice. But I'm looking forward to Aji No Moto and just racing on a regular surface again.

#SupportSeries :: #Iskohtirinkyy :: #PolarGP

by **Recuecn** » Thu Apr 03, 2025 2:31 am

[Thanks to Vdara for helping me come up with the details of the accident.]

Abdoulaye started the race in twelfth. He was hoping to get off to a good start, maybe catch up to Ted, somewhere up ahead of him. But things were not going his way. Just a few laps in, and he’d already lost a couple of places. Then he saw the UrGas in his rearview mirror, and the next thing he knew, they’d sailed right past him too.

The two red cars seemed to be doing pretty well. Both of them had started pretty far back, Vincent in twentieth and Nepö in twenty-fourth, and now they were moving up the pack together. But even if he’d been passed, Abdoulaye wasn’t ready to just roll over. He wouldn’t give up the fight that easily. Nepö had already passed Vincent, so Abdoulaye launched onto Vincent’s tail and followed him around the circuit, waiting for a chance to strike back.

Lap fourteen he thought he saw a chance. Nepö was driving cautiously, almost as if she was worried she had to defend against her teammate. That slowed both the UrGas down just a hair, and on the long straight running uphill into turn five, “Vista”, Abdoulaye roared alongside them, the unmatched acceleration of the new Ælund engine pulling him ahead.

Abdoulaye pulled up on Vincent’s left, glancing toward the two cars on his right as they prepared to brake into the turn. If the teammates worked together they could box him out, but maybe if Abdoulaye could find an opening he could thrust himself between the two of them. He was a bit more than a wheel ahead of the #66 car, enough to hope for something…

The gap, not that there had been much of one, slammed closed. Abdoulaye sighed. Of course he’d known the UrGas would coordinate to defend against him, but then he caught his breath. Vincent wasn’t working with Nepö at all. While the Hulkenberger braked as she approached the corner, Vincent approached much more aggressively, trying to slide the nose of his car past inside, not braking until it was far too late. The gap between the cars slammed closed—and Abdoulaye gasped as Vincent slammed into the back of Nepö’s car.

Vincent was fuming mad, but wasn’t even particularly aware of it. Road rage was his natural state; he was always angry when driving. Racing, far from being the exception, was even more madness-inducing. Wrath always finds an occasion, and in this particular race, the occasion had been Nepö Kinder overtaking him before they’d even completed ten laps. They were teammates! What business did she have passing him while he was still advancing up through the field himself?

Vincent muttered to himself as he followed her around the circuit. It had been a few laps already, and still they were passing other cars—the most recent had been the grid’s other Reçuecian, Goiter or whatever his name was—but Vincent was determined to overtake Nepö again and get back his place ahead of her.

Vincent could see that Nepö saw what he was trying to do. She cornered defensively, stymieing his attacks. Vincent ground his teeth. In his peripheral vision he could see the Ælund car he’d recently overtaken coming alongside to attempt a move, but he was not at all concerned. The battle between him and Nepö was so tight there was no opportunity for anyone else to butt in.

All three of them careened into “Vista.” As Vincent expected, Nepö braked early. He held off, trying to move inside. Beneath his curly red moustache, a sly grin formed as he anticipated his devilish move. Then, in an instant, his smile faded as he realized there was not enough space, no space at all…

Abdoulaye shrieked. It all happened in a single moment, and without enough time to say anything intelligent into the radio, all the pit wall heard from him was his yelp as Nepö’s car clattered across the front of his AGP007.

Vincent, the overconfident idiot, had carved into the rear of Nepö’s car when he found himself out of space, shearing through her rear diffuser. The impact had knocked her car across the track, sending her through the path of the unsuspecting Abdoulaye. Abdoulaye, who’d assumed the two UrGas were working together, had certainly not expected one of them to send the other skating into him. Still moving at a higher speed as he sped around the outside of the corner, there was no reaction that could save him. The impact sent him spinning, and as he slammed into the barrier, everything went dark.

He was out of the race. Nepö was left to limp back onto the racetrack, while Vincent pulled ahead and went on with his race, unbothered. He’d entirely fucked over two other drivers, all for fourteenth place.

Abdoulaye was left in his wrecked car, with what remained of the chassis in one piece pressed backward against the barrier as flames began to lick out from under it. But the Reçuecian had been knocked senseless by the impact. All he would remember later was the sensation of a great heat.

Moussa and his family stayed in Timbuktu for a week. They needed the time to recuperate after the first half of their journey. Between the bus breaking down, the ride on the roof of the cotton truck, and the late-night arrival by pirogue, it had been an exhausting ordeal. Not to mention Moussa was still recovering from his accident in Bamako the month before. A few days of rest before setting out into the Sahara were clearly necessary.

Unfortunately, spending time resting also meant spending money on food and lodging for the week. Moussa was already regretting the heavy fee he’d had to pay the ferryman just to get across the river. In an effort to make some of the money back, he set out every morning looking for work while he left Fanta to rest and look after Malick and Abdoulaye. He took whatever odd jobs he could find, carting things around town for people in a borrowed handcart, laying bricks at construction sites, or helping fishermen mend their nets.

Yet it was difficult to work in a foreign city. Enough people in Timbuktu spoke Bambara that he could get by. Unlike Moussa, however, for whom the language was his native tongue, for the locals Bambara was a second or often a third language. The city-dwellers here spoke Koyra Chiini, a Songhay language, while the nomads who came to the city from the north spoke mostly Tamasheq, the tongue of the Tuareg.

Moussa could sense the distrust with which he was viewed as a stranger from far-off, although it was still outweighed by the customs of hospitality. But it was the language barrier, not prejudice, that proved the greatest obstacle. The fishermen laughed when he clumsily tried to help mend their nets, and and the bricklayers grew frustrated when he failed to understand their instructions.

Despite the difficulty in communication, while he worked, Moussa tried to ask around to learn if anyone knew how to cross the desert to the north. But all the townspeople of Timbuktu showed little interest in travel. The days in which they had been the head of a great empire that launched majestic pilgrimages were long gone.

“If you want to travel the Sahara,” Moussa was told by everyone he asked, “you need a Tuareg guide. The nomads know the way across the desert. We city folk and river-dwellers cannot help you.” To Moussa, the Songhay people of Timbuktu were already foreign. The Tuareg were entirely alien.

Their otherness was intimidating. They came into the city with their camels, each man wearing a dagger at his side. Everywhere they went they wore their blue turbans, covering their faces. But if the turbans protected them from sun and dust, so too did they give an air of secrecy and guardedness. The nomads’ eyes were wells deep enough to water the Sahara, yet any meaning that appeared there was inscrutable to Moussa.

Fanta encouraged him one night when he shared his thoughts with her after Malick and Abdoulaye had gone to sleep. “Don’t be frightened, furucɛ. They are men just like you. You need not fear them any more than they need fear you.”

“But the desert is full of bandits. Everywhere I ask I hear stories of travelers being robbed or caravans being waylaid.”

“People love to talk of evil. There are robbers in Bamako too, but we do not cower for fear of them.”

Moussa hugged Fanta tight. “What did I do to deserve a wife so brave?”

“Braver than you,” Fanta laughed, but her tone was light-hearted, teasing.

Moussa laughed too. He could always count on Fanta to lighten the mood when he was too serious. “Well maybe you want to drive the camel? It sounds as though that may be the only way to cross the desert.”

“And why shouldn’t I drive a camel,” replied Fanta. Even in the dark he could see her broad smile. “I may be a city girl, but I know a thing or two about herding stubborn beasts.” She pinched Moussa’s cheek to drive her point home.

With a hand behind her back he pulled her to himself. “Well this stubborn beast is happy to let you ride him whenever you like.”

“Moussa!” Mock outrage. “The boys are right there, don’t wake them!”

“Just a kiss then.” Fanta’s lips were as tender as her heart. Really, I don’t deserve this woman, Moussa thought. What a blessing Ala has given me.

The next morning he rose, and after washing himself, went out to look for work again. “Just two or three more days of rest,” he told Fanta as he left. “With just a little more money we can resume our journey.”

He hoped Fanta and the children would indeed be rested when it was time to set out again. For himself, Moussa felt only more exhausted than ever. Here on the edge of the Sahara, the heat while he labored was nigh unbearable…

Abdoulaye’s eyes fluttered open. The heat was unbearable. A pair of arms were reaching for him, now tugging, lifting him out of the furnace. The darkness of a moment ago faded as he tried to look around. Everything was wreathed in orange…

Fire!

Abdoulaye’s mind was suddenly alert as the adrenaline kicked in, and he tried to struggle.

“Relax, you’re safe, you’re safe,” said a voice. It seemed to be connected to the arms. Abdoulaye was too weak to do anything anyway. The arms pulled him out of the car and slid under his armpits, dragging him away from the inferno. His boots trailed in the gravel. Abdoulaye felt his eyes closing again.

He could still feel the heat on his face, the flames only a couple meters away. He could hear the crackle of the flame and the roar of the fuel blazing as it leaked from the car. He could hear voices yelling and a rattle on the ground next to him, and then he felt himself being lifted onto a stretcher. The fire faded into the distance as he fell unconscious again.

He awoke in the hospital. Malick was there, holding his hand.

“Malick?”

“Oh my God, Abs…” Malick’s voice was breaking, and there were tears in his eyes. “Alhamdulillah, you’re okay. You’re okay.” He was sobbing now.

“It’s okay, I’m okay…” Abdoulaye tried to comfort his brother, then smiled at the idea that he, the invalid, had to comfort his older brother. But he was too weak anyway, and he let his voice fade away.

“I was so worried when I saw them pull you out of the burning car,” Malick was saying.

“What happened?” asked Abdoulaye.

“A car hit you, you crashed, there was a fire… you passed out in the crash but a race marshal pulled you out of the car before the fire could burn you too badly. You’re in the hospital now.”

“Am I fine? Will I be able to race?” Abdoulaye looked down at his body trying to see if anything was wrong with himself, but a sheet was pulled across his chest.

“The room was full of nurses and people from Ælund when I got here,” Malick said. “It sounded like you’ll be just fine. It might take a little while for you to heal, but there’s no serious harm done. You’ll be able to race again.”

“How long? Will I be ready by next weekend?”

“I don’t know that,” said Malick. “I’m sure someone from Ælund has looked at you and will let you know. A lot of people will want to talk to you. But please, don’t worry about that. The race is not important. Focus on getting well.”

Abdoulaye smiled weakly. “The race is important to me, frère.”

“Brother, please,” said Malick. “It’s not as important as you are.” He pressed his hand more tightly.

“I guess it’s a good thing it’s time for the mid-season break,” said Abdoulaye. “Hopefully it will give me a little more time to recover. More than anything else, I need to be ready to race again when the second half of the season begins. The second half of my journey is about to begin. I can’t miss it.”

Malick only smiled sadly.

I've never been as far north in Mali as Timbuktu. Info on Timbuktu culture from the introduction of Jeffrey Heath's A Grammar of Koyra Chiini: The Songhay of Timbuktu

by **Liventia** » Thu Apr 03, 2025 3:22 am

Eminent's team license for WGPC21 is officially revoked due to lack of activity. Anneliese Devereux and Adriana Kowalski are now free agent drivers.

The following eight drivers will take part in pre-qualifying for the Ajian Grand Prix Sprint, with the top four (maximum two from WGPC Motorworks) reaching the sprint race: ANG, JOH, ASZ, BLA, PLA, RAH, KAL, TUV

The starting grid for the Ajian Grand Prix Sprint is as follows:
1 VVV 2 FAE 3 LNG 4 KIN 5 FTZ 6 HAU 7 GTA 8 SOM 9 LAN 10 CRU 11 LAU 12 NÜL 13 PRE 14 TII 15 C23 16 LMN 17 BZW 18 VIA 19 KAM 20 ARC 21 STO 22 HAZ 23 ??? 24 ??? 25 ??? 26 ???

Note: For the purposes of count-back, sprint race results were treated equal to full race results, even though the points values differ.

by **Tumbra** » Thu Apr 03, 2025 10:51 am

Grantfeldt
Tumbra

"Dearly departed, we are gathered here today, at the funeral of Charles Pressley — known as Charlie, to all who knew him..."

The flight back to Tumbra hadn't been specially chartered for him; he'd just asked the people in purple if he could join them on their flight. Not wanting to turn down the actual person who owned 40% of their racing team, they managed to secure a spot for him on the plane; and he rode in business class, in silence, Sophie sitting next to him and snoring away. She checked on him a couple of times; but most of the time they were just focused on their own things. On his own, Ted was coming to terms with the fact that his father, the man who had given so much to get him into racing cars — and then demanded so much more after — was gone.

What did he feel? That was the question, the million-dollar one, the one he'd been trying to slowly tease open; but the feelings that he'd held on for so long, pushed to another part of his brain, had coagulated, congealed into a ball of mush that was now proving impossible to tear apart.

"...He may have passed on, at a time that all of us gathered here today will agree is way before he was meant to go; but his memory will live long in our hearts so long as we may live..."

The WGPC circus had very kindly chosen to remove him from the press tour for the entirety of the Patriotlandia weekend, and for he didn't speak to the press on his own either. He felt like a puppet being tugged along on strings. Sometimes by Terho, sometimes by Urmo, sometimes by Edvin; sometimes by himself, though he thought if he looked up and past the puppet strings he'd see the visage of his father once more.

But race was what he was paid to do, and race he did. Much of what happened during the race felt immaterial, really — a strong start translating into a strong finish, though points were the minimum that he expected from himself these days — and it felt more like a blur. He didn't even clock that he was atop the driver's championship until he saw the backpages of the Millsburgh Chronicle, which had the face of podium-finisher Dario Nülkeschlager splayed on it, and a smaller feature of him looking sombre. One point to Dario, two to Janne. The title fight, the article's headline so boldly proclaimed, was on.

"...and all of us are here today to honour his memory, be it as a husband, father, boss, or even friend. But first, if you would like, please join us in prayer."

He didn't think that after five races he'd be in this position. Expectations seemed to be low, on his part; Ælund were coming off their worst season in history, and he was privately expecting to be in the upper midfield. But all that seemed immaterial as he stared, dead-eyed, at the mahogany coffin which contained his father. No cremation for him, of course, which was so typical; the grave at the corner of the estate would have to do. Ted never recalled living in this; evidently it had been somewhere that the money from WGPC had allowed him to do. Of course, the traditional logic was that WGPC was a sport where you burned money, rather than made it, but land in this part of Tumbra was cheaper. Or he just had very generous friends. Or he'd cooked the books. Hopefully it wasn't the last.

Somehow it all felt gaudy and classless, but he had a house just as big in Aboveland — so who was he to judge?

"...thou art in heaven, hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven..."

Ted allowed himself to glance around at the attendees. Most of them were Pressley Racing staff; even after they'd corporatised and become the behemoth that they were in preparation for their entrance into Tumbran Super Formula and then WGPC, Charlie had made it a point to get to know most of them at least on some level. There were family friends; Sophie's family was here, even though she wasn't standing next to them; extended family, off to the side. Sponsors had sent massive wreaths, which around the back of the service area; some had sent personal representatives. Dario and Nini were here, looking appropriately sombre; Dario himself wearing a deep purple tie, which at least elicited a smirk of recognition from Ted. He didn't know the Hulkenberger, but Ted probably figured he was a Pressley man through and through now.

Next to him Ted himself was his mother, who'd shown surprisingly little emotion; in the short time they were alone from the moment Ted alighted from the high-speed train at Millsburgh Central, she'd only said she was happy to see him. Ted rather figured that she felt the same way as himself; relief that the ordeal of taking part of him was now over. They hadn't said much, but he could just feel it, as only a mother and her son could. On the other side, Sophie; she was wearing a rather fetching bonnet for the occasion. She'd taken it upon herself to take care of Ted, for some reason; though her cooking skills were nonexistent, she at least corralled him to eat. And greet people who'd arrived. And so on. The string-puller, as it were, though Ted was okay with that. It was nice to not have to care.

He cast his eyes out wide again, trying to see if the two people he really wanted to see — well, one genuinely, the other out of a muted sense of revulsion and resignation that he'd probably have to see them at some point — and found them. Near the back, one of them was milling about near the back of the crowd. The other had somehow found his way to pride of place near the front of the sponsors.

"Thank you, everyone. We'd like to invite a few close friends and associates of Mr. Pressley to deliver a few words."

Jack Brook, team principal of Pressley Racing, stepped up to the podium.

"Thank you. And first of all, thank you to everyone for showing up at one p.m. on an early summer's afternoon; I think that might be, for most of us, the toughest physical challenge we might have to endure today. But I'm also heartened to see that so many people are here today to remember Charlie. Especially on the Pressley Racing side; I cannot say how very glad I am to see so many of us here, for some of us, with less than a twenty-four hour's turnaround from Sunday's Patriotlandia race and Monday's debriefing."

Chuckles, polite ones, emanated throughout the assembled crowd, breaking the tension. But all Ted could think about was Pressley Racing. Forty percent of Pressley Racing felt like some kind of poisoned chalice that Ted had been forced to drink from. Surely, surely, in Charlie's last days, or whenever he'd drafted his will, he'd known that Ted was not driving for them. The conflict of interest was obvious; he felt sorry for whichever lawyer Ælund had on retainer, having to sieve through this mess of an arrangement he'd found himself in all of a sudden. Though everyone had kept it hush-hush for now, it was probably only a matter of time before the news would spread.

He sighed. Thankfully Sherman, Halleck and Grant — the law firm which had handled Charlie's will — had come up with a solution; a blind trust, administered by someone close to him, who would also become acting Chief Executive Officer until the next shareholder's meeting. On short notice, that someone had agreed; and flown down to Grantfeldt, where he was now milling about near the back of the crowd. That person was Ian Ashburn, scion of the richest family in Tumbra, recently-retired footballer, and personal friend of Ted Pressley.

Eulogy after eulogy after eulogy; and his mind flitted once more between matters so close to him, yet which felt so far. Did he regret not speaking to his father once more, when his mother had told him about the stroke? Did he regret stomping away from a guaranteed seat for life at the team which bore his father's — and now, his surname, which was now occupied by a nervous young talent from Doubeia? So many things hovered between regret and not-regret, as he looked at a fly landing on a magnolia, before buzzing off. In less than a month that fly would be dead — would it regret anything?

Would Ted?

His mind flickered to Janne, the man whose presence in his life was probably more positive on balance than Charlie's had ever been. Shame pervaded it; time after time he didn't know why he just didn't say the three words he'd wanted to say for quite a while. Maybe it was the reluctance to fully accept that he wasn't straight; or rather, the reluctance to speak it into the world, which would only confirm the matter. But time was short, agonisingly short, as today seemed to prove. He never expected to see his father go at this age; who knew? Maybe one day he would be the one in that coffin, being lowered down into the earth, or being delivered on rails to a waiting fire, as was the norm in Tumbra. And when he was, would he have died with any regrets?

The next time they were together, he'd have to say the words. He just had to.

Most people at the reception had stopped by with brief words of condolences as Ted snuck to the mobile catering truck to grab an entire platter of tea sandwiches for his and Sophie's lunch. But otherwise he was unmolested for the most part; Sophie had brought both of them coffee, and they were sitting far away when Ian Ashburn finally sat down at the same table as him.

"Been looking for you," Ian murmured as he looked at the surroundings of the lunch service. "Bastard look for you yet?" He sat down and grabbed a tea sandwich. "Smoked salmon? Who's funding this funeral?"

"God knows. Maybe you, maybe Tropicorp, maybe the bastard you're talking about," Ted replied as he sipped his coffee. "By the way, I should introduce you. This is Sophie McCreary, Pressley's test and reserve driver; she drove for the team last season." Sophie nodded, and shook his hand.

"Ms. McCreary! I've heard a lot about you," Ian smiled. "I'm glad that we've finally met."

"Sophie, this is Ian Ashburn, former national team footballer, former captain of Lakewood City, and winner of God knows how many things," Ted said to Sophie.

"Not anything international, at least," Ian replied, darkly.

"He's not hung up about it. Not at all. Anyway, Sophie, you should get to know Ian — he's going to be acting CEO until the next shareholder's meeting."

"And full-time after that, hopefully," replied the former footballer almost casually.

"How'd that happen?" Sophie asked, nonplussed at Ashburn being right in front of him.

"Corporate, legal trickery, slickety snackety. Ted here can't actually own the shares because he drives for another team, so..."

"...so I transferred them to a trust and he'll administer them until whenever. Like, if I sell them off —"

"Which you won't," replied both, in unison.

Ted rolled his eyes. "— or if I retire and decide I want to be a CEO for some deranged reason."

"It's not that bad," Ian fired back. "You've only just come into the lap of luxury."

"If I ever say I want to be a CEO, Sophie, book me in the nearest mental hospital. Anyway, you know the situation; Ian's easily the best mind I know to deal with this. He's also got capital on his side —"

"— You're lucky Dad likes you, you know. He approved an almost unlimited amount to help you in this effort —"

"— And his family hates Thomas Kim."

"Oh, yeah," Ian lowered his voice. "I wouldn't say hate, that's far too strong a word. But the Ashburns do have a mild distaste towards Thomas Kim and those he associates himself with. Bad business dealings, personal slights...no sense of the obligations that come with wealth. Did you hear his eulogy?"

"I'm surprised Mom let him deliver one. But also, no. I'd zoned out by then."

"Well, it was the usual nonsense. We were good business partners, earnest, forthright, glad to see our partnership come together. But he also dropped some hints during the speech, and I think I know what he wants with the name now," Ian sighed.

Ted looked somewhat puzzled.

"The name. Your name. Of Pressley. Yeah, he wants to do something with that. And God knows both of you won't like it," he said, withdrawing a small, well-worn notebook from inside his suit jacket.

by **TJUN-ia** » Thu Apr 03, 2025 4:19 pm

The birds were singing when Batu Tüvshinbayar awoke for the 2nd race of his WGPC season. Yesterday, the Mongolian driver managed to pull off their best qualifying of the season, putting the disappointment of Pre-Qualifying behind him to start this Grand Prix de Patriotlandia présenté par ASI Industries in P10, his highest starting position by far since he came back to the WGPC. Sure, both of these starts have been without Adonis Fitzpatrick to race against - which certainly was a crying shame - but Batu was in a situation where they couldn't focus on that fact at all. All they could simply do was get into their overalls and meditate...and think about the task at hand.

Sitting in their car before the formation lap, they knew the task that was at hand. Otto Markul, a guy who wasn't in the series anymore, was the only driver who has scored points for WGPC Motorworks so far this season. Batu was starting from 10th and the local hero Pierre-Louis Archer was starting from 3rd. Both drivers were entering this race with the best chance they had ever had of taking something from a Grand Prix weekend...but could it be done? What would happen when those five lights went out?

From the moment that the 60 laps running of the Feature Race got underway, the Motorworks car seemed to struggle and it indeed showed. One after another, cars would take turns passing either Batu or PAL in a way that seemed too easy to understand. Batu thought he was a good driver, he thought that Top 15 at least was achievable, but what happened instead was the racing equivalent of Batu getting placed onto someone's lap and getting spanked...and not in a sexy way either. This was schooling of the highest degree and despite trying to change things up regarding pit strategy, that didn't seem to work either. For all the effort that Batu and Pierre-Louis did on Saturday, they could only get 19th and 16th out of it. Ron Sommer started 13th and ended up beating polesitter Gil Langdon for the win, with Dario Nülkeschlager climbing from 18th to claim 3rd. This race clearly showed the haves and the have-nots of the WGPC in this 1st half...and Batu was certainly a have-not.

When asked what went wrong out there, Batu didn't know what to say. "I thought things were clicking yesterday and today, they weren't. Whether that is a 'me' problem or a car problem, I do not know. I do not know."
That was all they could say at that time. At least it was halftime in the season, and everyone would be on break, but as Batu went to bed that night, he was just...confused. "What the fuck happened? Where did that fall apart..?"

It was absolutely freezing in Iskohtirinkyy, Nykipiflugpuu, as Batu prepared for only his 5th start of the OGP season. Back in the place this season was supposed to focus on, they had had a bit of time to reflect on whatever the hell Patriotlandia was...and concluded that it was both the car and Batu at fault. Was the car at its best during that race? No, absolutely not. But as a former WGP2 Champion, Batu knew he could do better than that...and he didn't. Maybe it was what the wrestling community calls "ring rust", where you come back after a while and need a few reps to get back to full flow and full strength. Maybe when this 2nd half began, Batu would look all the better...but he couldn't focus on that now. He had business to attend to in the Polar Grand Prix.

The cold was something that Batu was somewhat used to back home, but the cold weather experienced here in Iskohtirinkyy was something else - so much so, that this weekend was to be raced on ice with studs mandatory due to the surface. It's a unique feature this temporary circuit granted its racers when the cold season arrived and it would be a place that Batu wanted to tame for this weekend, just to try and get his head back in the game and focus on what was to come. Practise seemed good enough thus far, with Batu in 3rd behind Iina Konoa and Triiki Mokalrisa, but One-Shot Qualifying would provide the chaos as Esapekka Kivimäki grabbed pole over Igne Spupuo and Evangelos Kalyftakis, Batu was over a second back in 10th and Lane Carter (the championship leader) was way down in 18th.

That would be all the set-up the Polar Grand Prix needed and the race that grid produced was pure chaos, with only 15 of the 24 starters making it home. It was simply a race of survival, where the final result mattered less and less as more and more cars were victimized by the ice and snow. Evangelos Kalyftakis would end up taking this race over, taking the championship lead at that, while Batu brought the car home in 9th and Carter in 13th. It's not anything too idealistic, but a good showing nonetheless.

He would end up watching from his hotel room as Lam Chow-Cheung won out in Wreckeria, securing a Top 8 in the Chase for the very first time. That was certainly a result worth celebrating through text and Batu was certainly happy...but also a little bit jealous. There was his friend, winning races and going deep into a championship fight, while Batu could only pick up the pieces of his career thus far. Puts things into deep perspective. Just like the situation with Donny, Batu was trying to find the answers he was looking for and while he was happy to sit back and let Adonis heal his way, Batu knew that his heart wouldn't allow that to go on forever. One day, whatever it took, Batu and Adonis were going to have to figure out what they were. At least then, the boundary could be set...for better and for worse.

With the clock ticking to the return of WGPC action through the 2nd Sprint Weekend in Serizawa, Batu spent a lot more time in the gym and in the sauna than he normally would. Something about this yin and yang of passion and calm was seemingly what the doctor ordered as he contemplated what he wanted to do in the 2nd Act and how he was going to do it. He knew that it would crush him if this grand return came up empty-handed and thus, he would strive to try and get as much out of that Motorworks car as possible. Pre-Qualifying opening up to the Top 4 instead of Top 2, following the pull-out of Eminent, was an opportunity that couldn't be squandered as in this scenario, being as prepared as possible will certainly help in this quest.

As he pondered all of this, the music in his headphones shifted to a recently released track from the U1/U2 realm - one about a land under deep strain and split. Outside forces wished to tear this land apart, to reduce it to vassal and rubble, but despite the odds, the people of this land continue to live - and to sing as well. This song spoke to Batu because to him, he was also confused - confused about his future, his ambitions and his dreams. But one day, Spring will arrive - and this Bird of Pray will share their heart with the universe.

by **Valentine Z** » Fri Apr 04, 2025 8:21 am

Part 11 – Nieszczęścia chodzą parami. This season has been nothing but naught for Adriana.

Zastępca Strażnika Adriana Krystal Desiree “Cudowny Manipulacja Światłem” Venus Kowalski Faith Stanisława Engelse I. Cherise Krystyna Zaborowska Sztormowska Pamela Alina Re. T. Lillian: You know of the saying that goes something like this? Ponieważ dużo z tego co się tutaj dzieje jest dość porąbane. It translates to “Because a lot of what's going on here is pretty messed up.” Wait no, I got a better one compared to that. Ahh, it goes something a little bit like this: Nieszczęścia chodzą parami. That is VERY fitting now, isn’t it? "Unhappiness comes in pairs." Sigh, I’m sorry to start this off with a really melancholic tone. Things have not been good for this season, and like I have said with that proverb, bad news came in pairs for this season. You can definitely tell that I have not been working too well for this season, that much is not a surprise. Not a single point on my name. For this race, however, I did noticed that Angela got a single point for her fastest lap, so that I am genuinely indeed happy for. For myself – yeah, I am not sure what is going on, nor where to start. It was the team, I am a bit certain of it. They were there, they always have been there. This time, however, Eminent was just present and that was it. The staff and the team members just did the bare minimum with maintaining the car, and I have checked on the car as well – it has not been modified according to the feedback and requests that I gave them. Maybe it was because of that or something else that I have not heard of or know, I hear that the team is getting kicked out. It is not certain, but predictive model that I am running indicated so, like a 91% chance unless the team spoke out. It’s getting worse with each passing day, and I can only feel for Anneliese as well, who I have not heard much from as well. Maybe WGPC 22…

To summarize my jumbled up rants and output above – I am getting zero points, there’s a high chance that my team is going to lose their spot, and so I am going to be in WGPC Motorworks. It was not the worst thing to have ever happened but I am going to pull my own weight, and that is going to be difficult. On top of that, I am not even sure if they are going to let me tap into the data of the car, in a way. To be absolutely clear, I am not modifying or tuning the cars on the go. However, having access to the data that is considered too much for humans, should help me more. Well, keywords being “should be” – the data I got from Eminent’s car are not going to do much if they are not helping me out along the way. I can run more predictive models with the AI programs I have in my mind, but I do not think they are helping anymore. A little defeated, and yet determined, I sat outside of the race course as I see the other drivers doing their best – going round and round. It must have been nice to be someone like Ted Pressley, Dario Nülkeschlager, or Janne Laukkanen. There must have been a method to their success, but not that I want that kind of big one. For start – I want a team that would at least support me better, and for myself to be decent enough to be in the middle. For the time being, neither of that was there, and here I am, musing and lost in my thoughts.

Just as the race was over, I saw a couple of drivers and staff alike leaving the compound. From the crowd and the commotion, was one person called Nini Johnsilvaturr. I am not sure why I was particularly fixated on her, and NOT in that way, oh no! What I meant was – why her instead of the rest? Well, a couple of things, actually. She’s in a different team from mine, and she is also not getting any points. I suppose in a way, that is what we can call being a bit relatable. Not that I am going to use that solely to talk to her, definitely not. I feel that I should approach her in the off-chance that- I could use another friend, and maybe others that I would like to talk to. Poor girl must have also been feeling down and devastated given her results, and a cruelly close one at that. A little bit faster and she would have taken a point or two from that race. Acting as naturally as one could and should, I approached Nini as she was presumably making her way to her lounge, or already planning to get to the next country for the next race (though there’s also a mid-season break so…) I walked towards her with a small wave and a smile, and then a “Hi!”

“Hi, Nini! Well, err- I’m Adriana, so err… nice to see and meet you. Nothing much, really, I was wondering if- well, I don’t want to remind you of it, but seeing how things have not been too good with us, I was wondering as to if you need someone to talk to and have a chat with, you know? Something casual, and hey, I am okay if you are busy with your own matters as well!” I opened up. I’m not very nervous, I just don’t know how to approach. It’s not exactly a good conversation starter to go “Well, hey! So we both got zero points so far and that’s relatable!” That’s not a good idea. Making it more subtle, however, possibly can be? I would like to see what she thinks of me first, I guess!

by **Trans-Dniesters** » Fri Apr 04, 2025 8:32 am

“Taxi!” Makar Faddeyevich Bittsevsky called out as he tried to wave down one of the damn things. ”Svoloch,” he muttered when the taxi sped off right in front of him, the driver not noticing or deliberately avoiding him. Bittsevsky grunted his disappointment and disapproval before turning around and trying to flag another taxi. Not to say that he really needed a ride right now, but it was better for him to get to his destination as soon as possible in order to get this whole thing done and over with.

As his name suggested, Makar Bittsevsky was a Pridnestrovian. Like practically all able-bodied Pridnestrovian men, Makar Bittsevsky had served in the Armed Forces; in Makar’s case, it was in the Army where he spent six years and rose to the rank of sergeant before leaving active service. Bittsevsky then took a year off before he eventually joined the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and worked his way up to the middle tier of the foreign service. After learning the ropes in Tiraspol, Bittsevsky was assigned to the staff of Pridnestrovia’s embassies in Copper Cuprum and the Sultanate of Oontaz, two relatively cushy assignments that allowed him to work his way up the foreign service ladder without worrying too much about the greater geopolitical picture. After more than a decade of cutting his teeth in two nations “friendly” to Pridnestrovia, Bittsevsky would eventually be assigned to the staff of the Pridnestrovian embassy to Recuecn as a deputy commercial attache, a so-called “mid-level” posting that should get him ready for an eventual ascent further up the ladder of the foreign service.

Or at least that was the story that Makar Bittsevsky was supposed to tell when asked. He did leave the Pridnestrovian Army after six years of service, but he didn’t go straight into the Pridnestrovian foreign service as his story would suggest. The year-long gap between his release from active service and his joining the Foreign Ministry was because Bittsevsky had actually joined the Committee for State Security, more popularly known as the KGB. Bittsevsky had trained up for the arts and skills of espionage during his time with the KGB, although it would soon become clear that Bittsevsky was much better at gathering intelligence and analyzing it than collecting it himself. And though Makar Bittsevsky did join the Foreign Ministry after his time in both the Army and the KGB, as far as the Committee was concerned he was still one of their men. He had only been “seconded” to the Foreign Ministry; that is, put on their staff to give his assignment legitimacy, but for all intents and purposes Bittsevsky’s primary allegiance lay with the KGB. His stints in both Copper Cuprum and the Sultanate of Oontaz was to give him vital overseas experience while also building up his foreign service credentials should he ever be assigned to a place outside of the APOC Coalition’s sphere of influence. And that was indeed what would happen when Bittsevsky was told that he would be assigned to the Pridnestrovian embassy in Recuecn.

Officially, Makar Bittsevsky was a deputy commercial attache for the embassy. As a deputy commercial attache, his job was to conduct research on Recuecian businesses and analyze which ones would be of most benefit to Pridnestrovia’s interests. He and the other deputy commercial attaches were the ones responsible for doing most of the legwork before the actual commercial attache made the official overture to said companies in order to conduct business. As a member of the KGB, Bittsevsky’s task was to compile intelligence gathered by their operatives and agents in Recuecn and then provide analysis to that intelligence. He wasn’t the one supposed to get that intelligence himself; the KGB had others to do that. And even if Bittsevsky was somehow caught spying, his diplomatic credentials meant that the worst that the Recuecians could do to him was expel him from their country and declare him persona non grata. But given the nature of his work for the Committee, Bittsevsky was reasonably sure that he wouldn’t ever be caught red-handed. Everything he did for the KGB was all inside the embassy where Recuecn couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

But that was before. Now, things had taken a surprising turn for Bittsevsky, and the chances that he would be caught spying in Recuecn had just shot up astronomically. And it had all started with a request that Bittsevsky thought that it was related to his “official” duties in the embassy. A message in the diplomatic pouch had ordered Bittsevsky to conduct in-depth research and analysis on Visp Financier, one of the biggest banking conglomerates in Recuecn. Makar didn’t think twice about it; researching banks of the host nation was part of the job of being a deputy commercial attache. The request to compile a detailed life dossier on one of the heirs of Visp Financier, Vincent Von Visp, was somewhat strange, but it also wasn’t new to him. It was always good to have an idea about the head honchos of the companies with whom Pridnestrovia wanted to do business. But the KGB wanted more than just information on Vincent Von Visp’s life; they also wanted his day-to-day schedule. Now that was something that Bittsevsky found strange. It wasn’t always that the commercial attache or even the Committee was interested in the daily life of a prominent businessman, let alone one from Recuecn, but Makar Bittsevsky compiled the dossier nonetheless because he was ordered to do so.

In the course of his research, Makar Bittsevsky had learned that Vincent Von Visp already had previous ties with Pridnestrovian businesses, or more accurately one tie with a Pridnestrovian business. Bittsevsky had learned that Von Visp was currently a racing driver in the World Grand Prix Championship driving for Urotovsky-Gatutin Motorsports. Bittsevsky did not follow motorsports at all, but he was familiar with Urotovsky-Gatutin, a name that was practically synonymous with the Pridnestrovian arms industry. Bittsevsky thus thought that the KGB had developed an interest in Von Visp because of his “close” ties with UrGa, and the Committee wanted to explore how they could use that connection to their advantage. It wouldn’t be later on that Bittsevsky would have an inkling of what the Pridnestrovian Republic actually wanted from Vincent Von Visp and his family’s financial conglomerate.

The Committee had been pleased with the dossier that Makar Bittsevsky had compiled about Visp Financier and Vincent Von Visp, but then it began to demand more specific things. The Committee now wanted to know the blueprints and layouts of the buildings owned by Visp Financier, specifically La Tour Visp and the Capital Saône bank building. And the Committee wanted to know about the location of the Visp family vaults as well as whatever security arrangements the Visps had with local law enforcement. Tiraspol wanted to know very specific items such as police response times following a successful or attempted robbery, and the equipment used by the police in such scenarios. They wanted to know traffic schedules, when rush hour began and which places were prone to being hit by intense gridlock. These were things that were now outside the scope of Bittsevsky’s official role in the embassy, but he dug up everything he could even as he began to wonder what use the KGB could possibly have for all of this information. Bittsevsky had an idea or two, but surely they were so outrageous that they couldn’t possibly be what the KGB was actually planning to do, right?

Once again, Tiraspol was extremely pleased with the dossier that Makar Bittsevsky had assembled about Visp Financier and Capital Saône. But once again, the Committee ordered Bittsevsky to hold on to the dossiers and told that under no circumstances was he to send them back to Pridnestrovia in the diplomatic bag. This order confused Bittsevsky because it didn’t make sense. Why would Tiraspol praise him for doing such a good job if it wasn’t actually going to make use of the information that he had gathered? Perhaps the Committee was just testing him, but he had done such a good job that they couldn’t let any possibility of his actions getting out there. Nevertheless, Bittsevsky kept the files, and a few weeks later he finally got the go-ahead to send them on. However, he was not going to send the dossiers in the diplomatic pouch; instead, Makar was supposed to hand them over to someone working at the cargo ramp at Recuecn City’s airport. It was this assignment that had made Bittsevsky call for a taxi, and why he was agitated about the possibility of not being able to make it to the meeting on time.

This was the first time that Makar Bittsevsky had been outside of the Pridnestrovian embassy on anything other than his official duties as a deputy commercial attache. This was exactly the kind of thing that he thought he was going to do when he had transferred to the KGB, but now that he had spent so much time analyzing intelligence from inside the embassy, it was almost as if the mere thought of stepping out scared him. Bittsevsky knew that even if he was caught, his diplomatic status would mean that the worst that the Recuecians could do to him was kick him out of their country, but that didn’t make him afraid to be caught nonetheless. He still remembered the basics of spycraft such as the handoff and the dead drop, but nerves were still getting the better of Makar. The sooner he got to the airport, the sooner that this whole thing could be done, and he wouldn’t have to worry about potentially getting caught anymore.

Bittsevsky had even gone the extra mile of going out of the embassy’s back door and walking as far away from the place as he could before finally attempting to hail a taxi to the airport. He had also ditched his usual suits and ties in favor of a puffer vest over a blue open-collar shirt, jeans, and a newsboy cap in an attempt to make sure he blended in, but all it might have done was to call more attention to himself. But despite his initial struggles, Bittsevsky was finally able to flag down a taxi to take him to the airport. He thought he saw the driver’s eyebrow rise slightly when he said that he wanted to go to the cargo terminal, but the driver got on with it and took Bittsevsky there anyway. Makar paid the fare once they had arrived, and once the taxi had sped off, Bittsevsky looked around for the Gavanavia terminal.

There weren’t a lot of people in the terminal because it was a cargo terminal, and usually the only reason why someone would be out here was if they were lost or actually worked there in the first place. There was only one other person inside, a stern-faced woman with blonde hair tied back in a very tight bun. She looked up from her counter when she saw Bittsevsky come in and she asked in a noticeable accent, “May I help you?”

“Yes,” Bittsevsky nodded. And then he switched to Pridnestrovian, “I would like to make a delivery to Tiraspol.”

The woman looked at Bittsevsky from head to toe, seemingly examining him. Finally, she said, “Come with me,” and she opened her counter and led Bittsevsky deeper inside the terminal.

To be continued…

works? · by **Abanhfleft** » Fri Apr 04, 2025 8:41 am

Adonis Fitzpatrick had not been very keen on ice baths when he got his first start into car racing. Donny still had memories of being forced underwater by his own father when he had come out as gay; the elder Fitzpatrick had hoped that he could somehow “drown the gayness” in his only son, whom he had hoped would continue the Fitzpatrick name. The mere sight of even just a small body of water (not even a pond or a pool, a drum of water was enough to make him freeze) had developed a fight-or-flight response in Donny, and it would take a lot of time (and some help from psychologists and therapists) before he could finally be a little more comfortable jumping into water. Donny had gotten much better since, but the memories of those months were still in his mind, fresh as if they were just yesterday.

It had taken some years before Donny eventually became something resembling comfortable with the idea of submerging himself in a large drum or bucket of ice water in order to cool down after races in hot weather. The fear that his father might come out of nowhere and finally finish the job that he couldn’t do all those years ago was still in the back of Donny’s mind every time that he was near a body of water. It suggested that despite his own assertions through the years, there was still a part of Adonis that yearned for the approval of Rolando Fitzpatrick. And maybe it also suggested that Donny himself hadn’t yet accepted his own sexuality after all that time. Why else would Adonis still be afraid that his father might drown him again? It had gotten to the point that Donny was willing to risk cramping up rather than immerse himself in an ice bath to cool down. Someone had to do something, and soon the Urotovsky-Gatutin academy brought in a psychologist to get Donny finally get over his apparent fear of water.

There were two things that had allowed Donny to finally move on from his earlier trauma involving drums of water. One of those was a song made by a famous rapper in Abanhfleft, written from the perspective of a gay man who was subjected to similar “water torture” in his youth by his own father. The rapper himself was not gay, although he had written the song with the possibility that his own son could be gay, and he wanted to send the message that acceptance didn’t have to come at the cost of being drowned. The lyrics spoke to Adonis, as he was sure that it spoke to many other LGBTQ+ people with similar experiences. The water was never going to be enough to wash away his convictions and beliefs, and no matter what anyone said or did to him, Donny Fitzpatrick was always going to be proud of who he was and what he had done for himself and everyone else.

It was those thoughts that were swirling in Donny’s mind as he sat at the bottom of the modified trash bin that HMG was using for an ice bath. Donny’s previous experiences had also taught him how to hold his breath for long periods of time, and though he was never going to be an expert freediver, Donny could still stay submerged for a minute and a half before finally needing to resurface. And every time Donny held his breath and went down to the bottom was another moment for him to think without distractions. It was just him, his thoughts, and the water. And Donny’s thoughts were on the second thing that had finally allowed him to move on from his fear of being submerged in a drum of water. Once it was clear that Donny wanted to become a racing driver, his aunt took him with her and became his sponsor. Meanwhile, Rolando Fitzpatrick acted as if his only son no longer existed, and for his part Donny was more than eager to leave behind his father’s abusive household. Rolando continued to ignore Donny even as the latter finally began to attain success in the Olistan karting circuit, and though Rolando definitely could have come crawling to Donny once the latter became successful (as had happened in Abanhfleft on more than just one occasion), the elder Fitzpatrick remained distant. Whether it was his father’s own pride or his continued refusal to recognize that he had a gay man for a son, Donny didn’t know. All he knew was that his father chose not to ride on his coattails once Adonis had finally lifted himself from the mud.

But then Donny got the news that no child, not even one who had become estranged like he had, would want to hear: his father was terminally ill with cancer. And of course Donny didn’t even hear of the news from Rolando himself; it was his sisters who had to reach out to him to tell him about their father’s cancer. But they did tell Donny that Rolando was too stubborn to ask for any kind of help from Adonis, which was why his sisters had to be the one to reach out to him in the first place. And while Rolando Fitzpatrick may have attempted to drown Donny many times simply because of his orientation, at the end of the day he was still Adonis’s father. There were some that might have disagreed with Donny’s decision, but sometimes blood was just too powerful. That said, Rolando was adamant in refusing any sort of money or help from Donny despite his own worsening condition, even going as far as saying that he would literally walk out of the hospital if Donny paid so much as a single penenk of his treatment. Donny really should have known better than to call his own father’s bluff, but he still paid for Rolando’s bills, and Rolando did walk out of the hospital to, in his own words, “die on my own terms.”

Donny could still remember the last night that he saw his father alive. Given Rolando’s deteriorating condition, “alive” almost seemed like an inaccurate way to describe him. Donny had dropped by the old house just to make sure that his father was still okay, although it was clear that wasn’t the case. Just before Donny left though, he heard his father calling out to him. “Adonis, I don’t know how much longer I’ve got left,” Rolando Fitzpatrick said in a ragged voice. “I have so many things to say to you, but I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to you all those years ago.”

Donny didn’t say anything, mostly because he didn’t trust himself or his voice not to betray his own conflicted emotions. Instead he just nodded his head while his father went on. “You’re a brave boy, Adonis,” Rolando continued. “You’re a brave man. Do you know why? Because a gay man can be more manly than being a man. It takes infinite courage to go against the grain, fight against what everyone else thinks is normal and usual. And it takes courage to stand for something you believe in even when no one else does. Again, I’m sorry for what I did to you, Adonis. I’m not asking for forgiveness, but I just want you to know I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you, Dad,” Donny said through his own tears.

It had been so long since that fateful night, a long time since Donny had finally reconciled with his father after years of being mistreated and then ignored. His father’s last words still resonated with Donny after all that time, how Donny was manlier than most men because he had the courage to be himself in a society that was still largely patriarchal and masculine. For what it was worth, Donny had never really thought that he was brave simply because of who he was, but his father’s words echoed in his head even as Donny rose up out of the ice bath to catch his breath. And he had a feeling that he knew exactly why he was hearing those words from his father once again.

Donny Fitzpatrick thought that he was still doing well enough with his new team HMG after the preseason debacle with UrGa Motorsports. HMG wanted to prove that the defending WGPC constructors’ champions had dropped the ball when it came to their driver lineup, and Donny taking a podium at the Crossbay Circuit was a step in the right direction. But then he came back to the grid, and Donny’s performances had nosedived since. Donny wanted to believe that he had no effect at all on why the Fleftic driver’s results had taken a turn for the worse but Donny knew that that was just wrong. He couldn’t stop thinking about him, and the more that Adonis tried to set aside any thoughts of him and the actual status of their relationship (if there even was still a relationship in the first place), the worse that he had seemingly become on track. Donny had to figure out what to do with him sooner or later, and the longer he waited to deal with it, the worse he was probably going to get. And Donny didn’t want that, not for himself or for his team.

There had to be a reason why Donny Fitzpatrick was constantly running away from having to figure out where he actually stood with one Batu Tüvshinbayar. Maybe he was afraid of finding out if he actually had feelings for the young Mongolian, or maybe he was afraid that there were no more feelings. In any case, Donny was afraid of finding out the truth, but he knew that it wasn’t like him to be afraid. His father’s words echoed in his mind once again. Bravery could mean a lot of things, and one of those things was going into a situation that one was afraid of going into anyway. Donny Fitzpatrick was afraid of finding out what he actually wanted from Batu, but it was now clear to him that running away was no longer the right option. Running away had seemingly put a mental block on Donny that was now stopping him from taking his HMG machine to its limits and beyond. It was time to stop running away, do a 180, and drive head-on to the problem.

Ako’y isang sirena, kahit anong gawin nila, bandera ko’y hindi tutumba…

by **Doubeia** » Fri Apr 04, 2025 11:10 am

High hopes were akin to a small flame. It could grow to become a ferocious fire, or quickly die a pathetic death. In Nini’s case, the flame of hope died as soon as it was ignited. It was five red lights and away the cars went. Nini’s reaction time wasn’t horrendously slow – she admittedly was slightly caught out – but others were fast enough to overtake her on the start. It wasn’t looking good for her; she’d dropped two places within the opening lap.

Throughout the rest of the race, Nini would spend most of her time edging herself: she would muster up enough speed to attempt an overtake along the straight, only to bail out at the final moment because she didn’t want to commit. She was a bit ashamed to admit she had the rear wings of many cars memorised with the amount of time she spent behind so many drivers. For a good portion of the race, it was the same story: she would lose time in the first sector, but she would regain that lost time in the Slaloms, and it was enough for her to have a peek at overtaking the driver ahead. Along the straight after the hairpin, Nini would inch closer to their gearbox, preparing for a move on their inside, whiffing at the chance to overtake into the next corner. Actually approach that corner, however, and she would pull behind without committing to the overtake, and the rest of the lap would be spent staring at the driver’s rear wing.

Nini was frustrated, but she was also scared. She lost a couple of places since the start, and while she was holding onto P9, she was envisioning a more fruitful race at that juncture. Her repeated failures to overtake anyone was starting to do her in, but she didn’t have it in her to actually do so. Why was she so scared? Perhaps it was because she didn’t want to screw up and humiliate herself, or perhaps it was because she didn’t want to end up like how Goita did. She didn’t know what happened, but seeing the absolute wreckage at Vista was enough to guess how bad of a shunt Goita had. Did she want to end up like him? No, she would rather finish the race with an intact car, thank you very much.

The race went on in a slightly chaotic fashion. While Nini was finally able to get some overtakes in, she was also starting to get overtaken herself. She swore some of the drivers that overtook her for points positions started way below her, and for some time she was wondering whether they had gambled on a strategy that worked out. Still, that wasn’t the focus. What she should be focused on, in fact, was defending her tenth position from the UrGa of Vincent Von Visp. She was all too familiar with his antics. In fact, if she had to guess, he might have had something to do with the Goita incident. Well, if he was going to try and overtake dirtily, she might as well give him a taste of her own medicine.

Nini found herself in a familiar situation going into the fourth-last lap. Instead of overtaking others into turn 11, however, she was defending from others instead. She could see Vincent in her left mirror. Was he trying to get the inside line for the follow-up? She mentally prepared herself to protect her position with her life. As she hit the apex of turn 11, she could see Vincent taking the outside line. She afforded him just enough space to make the turn, but perhaps she should have shut the door completely. In fact, she should have done so because it would have prevented what happened right after. It was the slightest of touches. His right rear tyre made contact with her front wing, and suddenly, its left end plate broke off. Perhaps it was a racing incident, perhaps it was driver error, but now not only was she out of the points, she also had to nurture a broken wing for the rest of the race.

Nini wanted to let all her rage out. It hadn’t been a good race at all. What could have been her very first points finish instead turned out to be another opportunity wasted. As she saw the UrGa cruise into the horizon, she was fighting the demons in her mind: to scream into the radio, or not to scream into the radio? Exercising self-restraint, she tried to calm herself down, but she let her disapproval be known to her engineer.

“There’s no way that was a legal overtake, what the hell?”

“We’re checking, Nini. For now, just try to bring the car back home,” her race engineer Norman Vance relayed.

Nini knew that she had no choice but to contend with another finish outside of the points, but she couldn’t accept it. To her, Vincent was in the wrong. She didn’t care about the rules or their stupid nuances, he was wrong. She wanted to argue with Norman, with the race stewards. She felt like she was fucked out of her first point(s) and a front wing for good measure! She didn’t deserve any of this, not after she’d worked so hard for this race. Then again, she was the one who put herself in this situation anyway, this situation of not capitalising on her qualifying. It was hard for her to concentrate on the remainder of the race. Her last three laps were spent hoping or wishing that someone in front would crash or retire. Just one person, and she would walk away from Patriotlandia with something. However, as time passed, she was hit with the realisation that she needed not one but two retirements. Observing her delta, she noticed her timings dropping like a stone, and before she knew it, Lutfi was in her mirrors. The overtake was inevitable, and Nini was a rotting fish on dry land as Lutfi passed her easily. She couldn’t overtake this lad for a few laps, and he managed to finish the job in one corner. She didn’t want to be humiliated by failing an attempted overtake, but this was arguably even more embarrassing for her.

After the race, what should have been a congratulatory message about Nini’s first points finish was instead the regular, boring “Nini, P12”. She should have been in the points, she should have been happy after the race, she shouldn’t have let Vincent overtake her, she shouldn’t have le–

Nini refused to speak to anyone after the race.

by **Valentine Z** » Fri Apr 04, 2025 11:12 am

Part 12 – The Ups and Downs of Preston Autos, and any other team in general, really. Angela learned not to be too hard on herself.

1st Cpt. Angela Stella Trista Josephine Natalie Rv. E. Tps. “The Eternal Explorer” Bethany Alyssa Valeska Payton. Mikayla Gosling Josie Rowan Serenity Chelsea Lynette Hannah Tan Fang Ling sat patiently, her clothes wet but no longer drenched in water. “They dry up rather quickly,” she quipped to those around her as she sat on a leather seat, “It’s one of those outfits I wear in all sorts of conditions because, well, you know, they are good against all sorts of weather.” The others listened to her for a moment, perhaps wanting to hear more about the stories that she has always been wanting to tell, and have promised to tell. Just like Eveline and many other Valentians, Angela is also an adventurer, having travelled to other worlds after going through the entire universe that Valentine Z is in. However, it has been a stressful season overall, and as a result, Angela have been more pressed with the matter of trying to win points for the team, herself spending less time on any other things in the process. The Valentian Space Agency, thankfully, was also doing great on its own without much input from Angela. She stared at one corner of a wall for a while, contemplating as to what has gotten wrong for so long for the two of them. She was not doing so well at Preston, and on top of that, there were rumors that Adriana’s team is also possibly going to lose their spot in it.

She would say it does not make sense, but deep down, she sort of knows what is happening. She wanted to sort of just accept the idea that she was not going to be able to make it for this season, and perhaps maybe hope that the teams – especially Preston – would give her a bit more of a chance for WGPC 22. “I will cross that bridge when I reach there,” she thought to herself, “For the time being, I would like to hear more about team’s history. I think it will help me, I am not sure.” Then out comes Marty Lewis with a rather heavy book – everything about the Preston Autos, the book is nearly of A1 size and features several hundred colorful pages, all of them in great detail over the history of the team as a whole, along with the biographies of Jim Preston, Marty Lewis, as well as drivers past and present like Rudy Edwards, Drake Stevenson. An updated edition, it contains just about everything of the team and the events, including ones from NSSCRA that were a mix of both the good and the bad. “And a little weird or unusual, as we call it,” Lewis remarked, to which he then gently dropped the book on a table for Angela. The book for her was relatively easier to lift and to read through the pages given the size difference, but more importantly, she wanted to see it in detail, this history of the team that has, in Lewis’ words, “saw a lot better and worse than right now.”

"We've won races and we've won championships. But if you remember the first year we competed in NSSCRA, we had a hell of a time getting Chet Byrd in the show. Chet would just plain not go fast enough - and it wasn't as if he was off the pace. He was a tiny bit slower than the open cars, but he'd be in his motorcoach watching old movies instead of racing on Sundays. We've dealt with internal trauma, and lord knows I was responsible for a bit of it. The reason I was brought to the Grand Prix team is this was my last chance. I used to tip the bottle all the time and that got us into a lot of trouble."

"So you failed to qualify for races. Big deal. I sat there in Jim Preston's office as Drake Stevenson threatened to walk out of the team because of a mess involving a sauna with Frank Bronson and Amanda McAlister. I remember walking into the Team Blue Center when Kai Qiang looked like he wanted to kill Chris Holmes because Chris put an iguana in his car. And then that dumbass tried to pin that on me. We've had guys thrown out of all-you-can-eat buffets, guys thrown out of bars, guys bailed out of jail, you name it. Hell, I'll tell you something: Until around 2002 or so, Team Blue and Preston Autos used to have a line item in their budget for bail money. We'd have x amount budgeted for salaries, x amount budgeted for equipment, x amount budgeted for tires and fuel, and x amount budgeted to bail guys out of jail. You failed to qualify for races. In the grand scheme of things, it's not that big a deal. We've had guys fail to qualify for races in the past."

"And we've had guys get hurt or worse. Kenny Wilson's lucky he can even walk again. He had that bad sprint car wreck and he's gonna walk with a limp for the rest of his life. And back in the late 1980s, 1989... we had a guy, good friend of ours, Harlan Sessions... slammed the wall in turn four. He never made it. Jim and Chet told the story of how they had to face his wife and their little boy after. Jim is a hard man sometimes to be around, but he knows the human cost of this. And in the grand scheme of things, what's happened to you isn't bad at all.

"Those of us that have been in racing know that sometimes, good things happen and sometimes, bad things happen. We're not going to let somebody go because they had a rough moment. We support them through thick and thin and we cheer them on. We get them fired up and ready to go kick some ass again. We know that on the road to glory, from time to time, you'll get your ass kicked. It's just how it goes. And you got your ass kicked. But you got to get back up again. And we know you can get back up again. We have faith in you."

Angela took it all in and stood up for a while, her eyes opened a little wider than usual in what seemed like a moment of epiphany. It felt like it was easier than they have anticipated, but she was genuinely relieved by Lewis and the other staff talking it through her in terms of both their personal experience and the book that was presented to her. “I know this sounded like a miracle in my mind being changed, but… wow,” Angela trailed off, collecting her own thoughts for a quick moment before continuing on, “I am not sure what to say of it. I mean, I do feel bad that I have been fumbling and all that, but at the same time, I feel that I was overly worried?” She nodded slightly, “I guess I get it now. I always felt bad about letting people down like that, or someone nearly- oh please don’t worry, it had a better outcome as well. A few decades ago, myself and Eveline have been on a space mission together to map out other parts of our universe, standard astronomy matters. Then she went on a space walk, my ship suffered a power surge, and Eveline fell into a black hole. I was worried and felt awful for a good few days because well, your friend fell into the thing and was seemingly killed. However, as it turns out and as you can see – she made it through it just fine.” Angela thought about it once again, making sure that this recalling of memories was not very out of place.

“Oh and yeah, sorry if this was a little out of place,” Angela said, a little sheepish. “I know how a bit awkward this could get from racing to space flights, but… yeah.” Marty nodded, to which he also replied back to her as he stood up and beside her, “Ahh, don’t worry about it, I get what you mean. Sometimes… things just work that way, you know? I know this is not exactly the best response or advice, but my point being that in life, you learn about the ups and the downs of life. Of course, if Eveline did pass in that black hole as you have described, then that would have been damn awful, pardon my language. However, it worked out well in the end and she’s not only alive, but kicking and with her powers, as well as being in NSSCRA. Life, including WGPC, works quite differently. We don’t get victories or losses all the time in Prestons too as you can see. Plus, it’s not as if you are wrecking our cars and ruining our assets on purpose – I have seen you being super careful with our cars and our equipment, and for that we thank you. Jim Preston also thanks you. Think about what we have said and discussed, and all the best for the next.”

Angela went back to her ship as soon as the rain stopped, in her arms carrying the book that Marty have given to her for free. “Something to keep alongside your collection,” he said, to which Angela wholeheartedly agreed. This is as good of an item and collectible as any other. Sure, there are more practical items like a personal energy shield ring, or an energy sword that is from honed craftsmen. The book detailing the history of Preston Autos has given a lesson not only on staying determined, but that somewhat more difficult idea to not only work with the failures, but that what Angela has done is nothing too negatively noteworthy to warrant her being kicked out of the team early.

It would be the after race at the Ridgeline Raceway that things started to look slightly up than usual. Angela Stella Tan Fang Ling, for the first time in this season, has obtained herself a single point on the account of her getting the fastest lap out of the entire race. Then there is also Kinu Luminna who also obtained 2 points for the team. “Good work on today, you two,” Marty said with a degree of enthusiasm in his voice, “Don’t worry about the overall points like I have said. I mean yeah, 13 points compared to Nexus’ 85? Yeah we got a long way to go, if not never. But there’s always next season, and as I have told Angela the other day – it’s all a matter of coming back stronger than ever for WGPC 22. In the meantime, I suppose this is a good time as any other to ask you two now: What kind of experience that you have with the cars and the team right now? I hope that it is not too much to ask, and maybe we can turn it around for this season with the remaining races?” Angela thought about it for a moment, and after that, giving the rather typical answer of her simply needing more time with a car. Kinu might answer a bit differently.

[This RP has been written in collaboration with Hapilopper.]

by **Crpostran** » Fri Apr 04, 2025 11:24 am

by **Turori** » Fri Apr 04, 2025 12:01 pm

Race Eelandii Shop, Eelandii Grand Prix Course, Eelandii, Turori :: Despite having placed 3rd in the Patriotlandia Sprint, iBen Toralmintii actually ended up falling 2 places in the World Grand Prix drivers standings after all was said and done at the Ridgeline Raceway. Yet another Top-half finish just out of the points in 13th position cost Toralmintii critical spots while drivers just behind him in the standings such as Vincent von Visp were able to capitalize with strong performances in the feature event which paid significantly more points in the standings. By virtue of having dropped in the standings, Toralmintii and Teammate Cocoabo #23 will be forced to start the Aji No Moto Sprint from outside the top positions. In fact, as luck would have it, Toralmintii and Cocoabo #23 would be the first two drivers to miss out on the benefit of the inversion. Instead of potentially starting the Aji No Moto sprint in 1st and 2nd position, they will instead be starting in 14th and 15th - behind every single one of the drivers they are trying to catch up to in the standings in front of them.

For Toralmintii, the mid-season break was certainly welcome. The former World Champion returned to Eelandii and spent some time in the shop, preparing not only for the next race but also for the future and what would come after it. Thankfully, after the disaster that was the Tropicorp Colourworks campaign of WGPC Season 20, iBen had already accumulated the same amount of points that they had in all of the previous campaign. However the Turorian had certainly imagined things differently. Having left what was arguably one of the worst teams on the grid last season to drive for a team that had put together race victories and a Top 5 constructors finish, there was certainly an expectation of competitive performance that had not yet been achieved. The majority of the season had been spent midpack though the team had experienced a boost in the last two race weekends scoring points in 3 consecutive on-track events. Still, as there was no podium ceremony for the Sprint event, Race Eelandii VTGP had now gone half a season without scoring a podium finish and the sponsors had noticed.

iBen was trying not to think about the Business side of things too much. In the back of his mind, however, he knew that returning to Race Eelandii VTGP would ultimately also result in an adjustment in expectations about their contribution. After all, it was a team that iBen helped to create before returning to Tropicorp Racing Ælund. He had stayed on the sidelines and even watched in frustration as the Race Eelandii! entry denied him victory on his home track two seasons prior. Now, he had to decide just how involved he wanted to be with the team both now and after his retirement at the end of the season.

Of course, right now he primarily wanted to focus on driving. It was not always easy to do, however, with all the extra attention surrounding "iBen's last race in..." name your grand prix host country here. While the team was gaining momentum and no one was ready to give up the fight, iBen realized it was looking more and more like a championship fight on either the Drivers or Constructors side was becoming an unrealistic goal. The gap was increasing. With no podium celebrations, no victories - there was very little self-providing marketing material for the sponsors to play in their advertisements. Which meant in order to keep the sponsors happy, iBen would have to do more sponsor appearances and both iBen and Cocoabo #23 would have to do more staged commercial spots. If they could just win a race or at least get a podium celebration in their drivers suits with all the sponsors in plain view they could use the footage just as it was and not have to worry about wasting time re-decaling last seasons cars and turning laps outside to get just the right footage for the sponsors.

The first weekend back on the WGPC trail after the break would be a big one for one of the teams sponsors, twii.tur with extra opportunities on the track being a sprint-feature combo weekend and the twii.tur support series also in action as well. Unlike Patriotlandia, twii.tur and Race Eelandii had a long history competing in and marketing for events in Aji No Moto. It would also be iBen's last official Sprint race in World Grand Prix Championship competition. He'd already blown a golden opportunity to add a Sprint victory to his list of Accomplishments in Patriotlandia, starting from Pole Position and falling back to 3rd place. Now, if he was going to do it he would have to do it the hard way from midpack. Of course, as was seen in Patriotlandia it could be done but it certainly would be no easy feat.

The team would introduce some minor upgrades to the car as well that were being implemented as the crew worked hard during the break to prepare for the second half of the season. Very few members of the Race Eelandii VTGP team actually got to take a break during the break and iBen wasn't about to be the only one on vacation while everyone else was working hard. He had an afternoon meeting with Intoreil Palmsti'ii and Juracai Klianiota. The topic would be strategy for the remainder of the season. They had worked in the off-season to produce a car they felt would be competitive all around and able to deliver consistent performances week in, week out and they had accomplished just that. Nearly every week the car has been fast enough to beat half the field, yet at the same time collecting as little points as possible for the number of cars they finished ahead of. It wasn't necessarily a championship winning formula and the team were beginning to wonder if they had gotten it wrong.

At this point they needed a shot in the arm. The question on the table: Was it more important to make minor gains and collect more finishes from 4th-10th position that will improve their points position, get both drivers into the Top 12 in the standings and the team into the Top 6? Or, was it more important to push the envelope even further, and get a car that might be capable of picking up a win or two over the remainder of the season, get the team the podium finishes and celebration photos they thus far lacked? Surely in the short term the sponsors would want the glitz and glamour of the all-or-nothing approach. But what about at the end of the season? Would the short term gains be undone if the team were mired outside the Top half of the point standings? Would they leave and search out a team with higher placement? There were arguments both ways. Ultimately, iBen communicated he just wanted to focus on driving whatever car the team prepared for him, and left the final decision of his teammate and friend Juracai.

R.L. Cruisin ✓

@Cruisin
Was very nice to get a little break to recover after our mishap in Patriotlandia. Despite that, it has still been an outstanding season thus far for both me and the team. We've been super fast with the 6th best average starting position of all drivers and we had one of the top Average Finishes before the DNF as well. I've been most impressed how this brand new team has picked up so quickly and my teammate, Nik Hazrin Lutfi - what a Shark!! We're going to get that 11 turned into a 1 real fast, so much potential there it has been an honor to work together. Looking forward to the second half of the season!

#WGPC : #PiersIvchenko : #MidSeason

V&T RACER Online ✓

@VTRacer
Don't worry everyone, with the World Grand Prix Championships off last week we went through and just double checked that we didn't have entire articles saved only as unsearchable images that could be lost forever if our image server crashed! Nope, not us. Who did you think we were, the #CrpostranHerald ? Sleep well knowing there is always going to be an original text copy of all our articles safe and sound in the archives!

#WGPC :: #PrintYourText :: #Media

twii.tur Support Series ✓

@OGP
There is a new team on top of the standings, watch out for the newcomers #Fiarti Racing! After having the spotlight to ourselves at Iskohtirinkyy we will now re-unite on the big stage with the WGPC for the race weekend festivities at the Serizawa Racing Circuit.

#WGPC21 :: #SupportSeries :: #EelandiiGP

by **Aboveland** » Fri Apr 04, 2025 12:18 pm

Ælund Racing Headquarters
Lintulahti, Aboveland

A chill ran up and down Edvin's spine as a shard of charred carbon fiber shattered beneath his feet. The sound of the crunch echoed uncannily across the garage, and it was as if he could still hear it ringing muffled in his ears. If it weren't for the fact he was covered up to his nose in fleece and that his ears felt stiff and frigid in the dusty garage air, he wouldn't have a doubt as to the source of the cold rush. It had been years since the last time he'd felt the same engulfing warmth wash over his chest, down to the tips of his toes, and up and out from the hairs on the back of his neck. He'd been sitting across the pitlane that one time, hunched up against his desk on the pit wall, staring frigidly at the destroyed #56 car strewn across the surface of an early, rudimentary Forest Cross raceway, the whistles and jeers of the Esmerelian crowd drowning out the thump of his heart in his ears.

Abs' accident had been equal parts more brutal and less shocking. The impact itself hadn't been so hard, nor had the moments before in the chain of events; if it hadn't been for the grand fiery finale, large swaths of the car could have been salvaged. But something had gone utterly wrong in the whole ordeal — might have been a sheared brake line, a punctured airbox, or an uncontrolled split in the chassis — that had reduced the scintillating arrowhead shaped chassis into a pile of ash, frazzled fiber, and molten metal. With a stack of batteries nestled beneath the seat of an immobile Abdoulaye, everything from the exhaust to the airbox engulfed in licking orange flame, there was not a single thought of the billion that scrolled through Edvin's head that rolled favorable odds for the Reçuecian.

Edvin paced around the sooty chassis, still haphazardly scattered and discarded in the distant rear of the dormant Rallisport workshop. Each breath puffed a billow of vapor in swirls out through the holes of the cuff of his coat, and moistened the chapped tip of his nose. The off-week had bought Ælund valuable time — little of it spent salvaging the handful of rod ends that had survived the catastrophe — to strike out the events of Patriotlandia and regroup while Abdoulaye's thoughts and neurons continued to settle in his head. The new AGP007 was almost ready, and it even enjoyed the benefit of incorporating the latest construction and geometry optimizations which they hadn't yet had time to graft onto Ted's car. The power unit — the biggest challenge to rebuild for the tiny Ælund engine lab — had been built in record time, with only the last rounds of checklists and hybrid programming left to sign it off. The team had picked themselves up off the floor, dusted off their knees, and put the accident behind them — and yet, the length of Edvin's fingernails had reduced appreciably in the following weeks, as much as his intake of ibuprofen and calming tea had gone up.

In the distance, beyond the doors of the Rallisport garage, the clong of work shoes and indistinct English chatter suggested the presence of the Reçuecian, either coming or going from the simulator room. Someone blew a raspberry and clapped with mittened hands. As he closed his eyes, his mind wandered to the thought bugging his mind. The constructors' championship was starting to look like a two horse race — there was no better situation he, and certainly Terho, could imagine than putting up a fight against Nexus Racing. Half, because of the teams' age-old friendly rivalry spirit, and half because of the nature of Nexus' title runs. For every win, the Nimbans had a blunder. For every bout of joy, the sting of tragedy. Based on historical precedent, the door back to the title was wide open in Lintulahti.

But still, a stream of doubt rushed through his insides; spurred on by it, he headed out of the Rallisport garage and towards the simulator room. For a driver so dependent on feeling and confidence, there was nothing more devastating than a fiery concussing accident. Abs had made incredible progress since the start of the season, and the accident hadn't even been for fault of his own, but it's always taken a special kind of driver to put themselves back in the hot seat after teetering on the edge between body and spirit. Axel Novikov, as ruthless, stoic, and aloof as the Abovian was, despite making a posterior living off of driving sideways into trees, could never convince himself to see out another WGPC season. Sophie McCreary — bless her misguided, and also inexplicably tree-careening oriented soul — had very nearly gone supernova on herself through the trials and tribulations of season 20.

Time would tell if Abdoulaye had the nerve in him to come back stronger; if, despite his shattered helmet, scrambled brain, and bruised shoulders, his fighting, unwavering spirit remained intact.

Ted's house
Variyläänjoki, Aboveland

The downlights dim in the living room; warm orange glows creep up the cream colored walls in the corners and behind the furniture, and it casts long shadows of the imperfections of the pale birch trim that peppers the room. Ted had had speakers installed on the bottom floor while he was away, and they faded softly into life to the tempo of the lighting. The smell of toasted rosemary, warm butter, and steamy potatoes filled the kitchen and wafted over the bar, marrying indulgently with the savory sticky taste of red wine roast beef stew. Janne grinned gently with pride — to think he could just about fry an egg two months ago.

The punchy synth beats and dreamy vocals nurtured his brain in the same cozy way the warm setting embraced him. If he'd calculated everything right, the stew would be ready to serve a few minutes after Ted got back from the circuit; the Tumbran had given him an ETA earlier, but Janne had cheated with his live location tracker to time things just right. There was little left to do but wait, with the prep done and the egg timer ticking gently under the massaging thump of the sound system. Maybe he could set a few candles to add to the atmosphere — they hadn't seen each other in over a week, after all, and the weekend in Patriotlandia had been different itself with... Ted's dad's... thing.

In any case, Ted had given him a copy of his keys the last time he'd been there, and under the pretext of caring for his plants while he was away in Tumbra, Janne had happily helped himself into the massif mansion. Throughout the year, he'd ended up spending much more time than he expected at the house, even more so than at his own studio apartment; throughout Ted's test and simulator day, he'd tended to said plants, done some spring cleaning, helped himself to three saunas and two cold plunges, peed with the door open and walked across the glass pane hallway without his towel, and even restocked the fridge. If he hadn't spent the previous week arduously training for the next race, he'd have bestowed upon himself the dubiously honorable title of house twink. In all but name and legal title only, he and Ted were a couple. A model, cohabitant, secret, title-less couple.

As he stepped back from the three-armed candelabra in the middle of the dining table and shook the lit match off, he rested his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. The pungent, mouthwatering smell of roast made his salivary glands spurt and barrelled straight to his heart, where it met the drum of anticipation of sitting down at the table and peeling back the tinfoil from the ceramic casserole resting in the oven. And at that thought, he frowned. The moody song and gentle glow of the ambient lights and the ambient candles and the beef roast with buttery rosemary grilled baby potatoes — and the sauna, and the cold plunge, and the walking through the halls as God intended, and the grocery run on Ted's expense — it all felt a bit self indulgent and strange, especially with the hyperactivity of his mouth being considerably more focused on the spectacular beef stew than on the imminent arrival of his other half.

It hadn't been so difficult to give Ted space when he got the news in Patriotlandia. He wasn't as dazed as Janne had expected, but he'd been immediately thrust into a hush-hush pass-around between lawyers, representatives, and Ælund personnel that had kept him out of the limelight, and even out of his own view, after the sprint. As the weekend went on, it became easier to keep his focus on himself, on the Chase Cutter, on Max's directives, and on clawing back some of the pride he'd left at the bottom of the grid in Turori. Once the relatively uneventful — on his side — feature race had passed, he'd only sent a hug and a cheeky cheek kiss the Tumbran's way before he was solemnly off to Tumbra and Janne away to the Wardship. In the middle, something shifted.

The ding of the egg timer snapped him out of his haze, and he scuttled obediently to don his oven mitts and pull the casserole out onto the natural-finish granite block countertop; but not even the sight of the long awaited stew making its sweltering sultry self visible from under a plume of steam, or the sound of Ted pulling up to the driveway and securing the handbrake on his car, could snap him out of his thoughts. The main driver to his thumping pulse shouldn't have been the obscenely tender beef stew falling apart into its own thick reduced sauce — rather, it should have been the man the whole setup was meant for. The kind, tender, sweet smelling, strikingly handsome, tastefully chiseled, venereally unwavering, marginally taller, endearingly stoic, blindingly quick, and threateningly confident racing driver that was placing his thumb on the smart doorknob to his main door.

The most important person to him in the whole entire world, in all he could remember of his whole entire life.

The man that had topped him in the championship standings.

by **Auruna** » Fri Apr 04, 2025 12:30 pm

Grand Prix de Patriotlandia
Race

Lined up at the grid at P21 before the formation lap, Kinu realistically thought that this race is going to be another struggle based on the sprint race earlier this weekend. Still, he had no choice but to drive, whatever happens. It's rare for him to be pessimistic but that sprint race clearly demoralised him to the point of thinking that this race was immediately a lost cause. He tried everything he can with the setup and such but there seemed to be no improvement at all. His mind was then flooded with tiresome thoughts.

Then a distinct gritty yet pleasantly reassuring Marešan voice buzzed through Kinu's radio that eased his mind. "Kinu, nievejškahožoçokva pravetšes." (TL: "Kinu, radio check"; nievejškahožoçokva - radio / lit. sky communications)

"Tak... verdanai, tvai, tryi. Vyišžokho lavetno." ("Okay... one, two, three. All clear.") Kinu replied in surprisingly fluent Marešan.

Aarno, while out of Kinu's sight, smiled and answered back with enthusiasm. "Khošoi idkaju. Istrakoloju Kinu! Udatšestyi!" ("Good to go. Let's go Kinu! Good luck!")

Kinu couldn't hold back a smile under his helmet after hearing Aarno's energetic voice. Ah... tyi Mareški šui živokhoi ludžoski. (Ah... you Marešans are such lively folk.)

The formation lap went by quickly and during that, Kinu and Aarno underwent further checks and a brief clarification of their strategy for the race. Kinu already knew about it as it was previously planned out before the session but Aarno gave some of his additional input that could potentially be crucial to finishing within the points. No one can be too sure but the confidence that exuded from Aarno during his explanation made Kinu realise that there's still a chance if they play it right.

Well, both he and Aarno hopes that everything goes according to plan.

The race then started and Kinu embarrassingly fumbled his start as he watched the cars that were formerly behind him go past him. Kinu managed to recover before he lost a lot of positions and end up last and thankfully by turn 1, the field bunched up enough that he started to get to work gaining a few spots. In complete control of the stubborn Kuumikaho this time, he was slowly but surely climbing up the ladder. And with the help of Aarno, everything seemed to go smoothly, not actually like what he had anticipated but it was close enough and before he knew it, Kinu, even surprising himself in the process, managed to get inside the top 10.

"Davai Kinu!" Aarno cheered on from the pit wall, almost forgetting that he was a race engineer for a bit as he watched Kinu's stunning performance even if it's far from a win. It wasn't like the sprint race at all.

Several laps later, after Kinu pitted for new tyres, he reported that there's some problem with the handling of the car where the front felt "sluggish". Confused while checking the data and sensors, Aarno asked Kinu to elaborate further.

As Kinu explained his current situation, his radio suddenly cut out. "What..? Hello? Kinu? What happened?" Aarno was first confused before a slight panic set in he as figured that something went wrong with the radio on his end. It took a minute before he managed to hear something on the radio again although it was mostly undecipherable noise.

"Oh naho šenaçakhovomyi... ne žnovunie." (tl. "Oh for fucks sake... not again.") Kinu groaned off radio as he only heard static. He then attempted to communicate with Aarno in hopes that he can still be heard, not knowing that Aarno is having the same problems.

Fortunately, he static slowly cleared up and both Kinu and Aarno's voices finally became intelligible again. "Kinu, radio check again. Radio check."

"Loud and clear." Kinu responded back.

Aarno exhaled a sigh of relief. "Good, I thought I lost you there."

"Yeah, same here."

"Now, continuing from where we left off..." Kinu then resumed his explanation what was wrong with the car. Aarno finally had a clear picture and suggested some onboard adjustments Kinu can do even if both concluded it to be a relatively minor issue. While Kinu reported some improvement, he was then warned by Aarno that his tyres are degrading faster than usual. It wasn't much cause for alarm but Kinu knew that it'll be troublesome later on if he gets into a prolonged fight.

For now, Kinu is maintaining a good, steady pace as he wasn't planning on killing his tyres early just to catch up with the cars way ahead of him especially after Aarno's notice. It was relatively uneventful afterwards but it was short-lived as Aarno once again spoke on the radio.

"Haukanna zaçaden, tvai-kehon-pjetsai i zakryivitjazen. Ukaradžestije." ("Haukanna behind, 2.5 and closing. Watch out.) Aarno calmly said. "Engine looks good but running much hotter than expected. Clear for Mode 5 and Mode 6 whenever you need it. But watch your tyres, pitting will only put us out of the fight and without points. Make them last to the end."

"Copy." Kinu replied back as he looked at his mirrors to see the fast-approaching PB of Laura Haukanna. Kinu already knew that it's going to be an intense fight with his compatriot knowing how she drove being a rally driver. From P21 and P22, the two Auruns are now fighting for points positions within the top 10. It was a long and tedious journey to get to that point and now that two will see who is better. It may not be for a win but Kinu is about to roll his sleeves up and defend his place.

Coming out of Vista with the PB glued to his tail, Kinu set up for a switch-back through the Slaloms, predicting that Laura will dive down the inside line into Turn 6. Unfamiliar with the PF-3 as he couldn't properly battle one before, he isn't sure if the move will even work but it was worth a shot. Reaching the braking point, he expected the PB to be on his right but amidst all the noise inside his car, he could hear the wailing V10 come up to his left and it forced him to adjust. Going through the corner side by side, the Preston and PB briefly touched but it didn't unsettled either car too much. Kinu tries to hold more speed with a late apex into the following corner to at least get slightly ahead of the PB. Laura notices it and backs off for a moment to avoid a collision but she stuck behind the Preston through the following corners but due to the low RPM power delivery in her PB's V10, Kinu managed to stay ahead well into the following straight.

Expecting a risky dive bomb down the hairpin, Kinu moves a little bit more to the left and sticks to his late apex line, allowing Laura to dive down the inside and only hoping that she brakes too much to the point of locking up. But to his surprise, Laura manages to pull it off cleanly and get a head of him into the hairpin but with a long relatively straight section ahead, Kinu is confident that he can take back the spot from Laura there. Exiting the corner glued to the back of the PB, Kinu switches his engine mode to Mode 6 for a boost in power while also utilising the splitstream for an overtake right before the upcoming Turn 11-12 chicane. His foot hard on the throttle, and as soon as he felt that he is about to hit the rear wing, he pulls out of the PB's wake, expertly carrying his momentum to get beside Laura. However, it wasn't enough to get completely ahead.

"Watch your tyres Kinu, we can't afford to pit this time." Aarno reminded him.

"Copy." Kinu responded before asking. "Can I go Mode 7?"

Aarno didn't answer immediately as he consulted the others at the pit wall first. With the chicane coming up quick, Kinu needed the answer as soon as possible. Then Aarno finally answered with enough room to spare before the chicane. "You got two seconds max. Engine's close to overheating."

"Got it." Kinu switched his engine mode to Machismo without hesitation to squeeze more power from the engine to complete his overtake. Kinu finally got ahead of the PB and while he thought that he was in the clear, upon reaching Turn 11, the PB came barreling down the inside, nearly hitting him and throwing all his progress out of the window.

"Damn..." Kinu had no other words as the PB drove away, he pushed to recover, hoping to get another shot but there's been a change of plans. After finishing the lap, he noticed that the car's performance is starting to drop. Alarmed, he immediately turned down his engine mode back to Mode 4 and reported it to Aarno.

"Yep, your tyres are about to fall off, we got two laps left so make them last. Engine is still doing fine but overheating, don't go above Mode 4 and you still have plenty of fuel. Lastly, Von Visp is 10 seconds behind and closing in fast. Expected to be within striking range at the final lap."

There's not much action that followed and Kinu wrestled his car with ailing tyres and engine towards the finish. While 2 points wasn't much, it was oddly satisfying to earn especially that he finally got some racing action on track. He lost to Laura but it didn't matter, it was the thrill of an on-track battle that felt amazing to him and he wanted to experience more of it.

"How did I do?" Aarno asked.

"Tyi khošoi Aarno. Tyi khošoi." ("You did well Aarno. You did well.")

"Džaike, khošoi vertyi." ("Thanks, you did well too.")

by **Former Citizens of the Nimbus System** » Fri Apr 04, 2025 1:38 pm

In Motion Workshop, Celina Community, the First City, the Nexus Wardship of Former Citizens of the Nimbus System
31st of March

“The simulations do seem to bear out, at least.”

Gertrude sighs, resting her head on her hand. “I know, Grace. I know.”

“Way better predictive tech than we had over at Tygar,” Petra Nikolic grumbles from the back of the room, her voice echoing off the polished wooden floor favoured by the Specks for their conjoined office space.

“Granted,” Gertrude smiles back. “Just want to have as much data as we can get before this gets to the track.”

“And you’ll have it,” Grace Speck affirms, marking a few notes with her stylus on the screen portion of her elevated desk. “Getting the additional tyres to you for hard testing will not be an issue; if Ryker and Janne react well to the new composition then we can fast-track production of the remainder. I’m sure that the remaining teams will be glad of it, too.”

Gertrude hums thankfully. Giving Victoria, Alex and Tiffany something else to work on before the new traction control could come online was not an easy call to make, not after so many other priorities came and went, but in this case the task was fairly simple: adjust the parameters of the array’s automated tyre heating for a broad target window, rather than a single exacting target thermal map, so that their drivers could feel and respond to the characteristics as they changed. That needed a corresponding widening in the operating window of the tyres themselves.

Fortunately, In Motion were more than happy to provide.

“I’m grateful for that.” She chuckles. “A few years ago, with this number of cars that you’re supporting… I don’t think either of us would have managed.”

Grace swivels in her chair. “They’re only using Bluebirds because of how far we’ve come and we can only make as much progress as we have with all of it giving us the pressures and data to act.”

“And the money,” Petra chimes in, which Grace answers with a sideways nod. “The money helps.”

“We’ve learned a lot from Phoenician – more efficient manufacturing pipelines and chemical engineering insights are the least of it.”

“Do you think they’ve been keeping up themselves?”

Petra Nikolic’s laughter scatters across the glass walls.

“They are a large institution.” Grace spreads her hands. “I’m sure their researchers have been working hard to reproduce some of our Imagination-forged materials chemically, and I wish them luck – that would be a major breakthrough and they do have the personnel to throw at it. Still, even if they can, I suspect they lack the agility to bring it from lab to track quickly.”

“That dynamic sounds familiar.” Gertrude grins. “Just glad to be on the right side of it with you.”

And that we’re on it, too. I hope.

Nexus Racing HQ, Crossbay Circuit, Nimbus Bay, the Nexus Wardship of Former Citizens of the Nimbus System
That same morning

“YES! YES YES YES YES!”

“Spawn of Typhonus, may this be the last we see of you…”

“I think we’re done! We’re done, aren’t we? Please tell me we’re done, Victoria.”

“Yes! Yes, I think we are!”

A pause.

“Well, obviously there’ll be checks to perform, to make sure that –”

“I will inform Lucia immediately.” Alex practically launches himself away from his chair and storms out from the programmers’ room, to the laughter of Tiffany behind him.

Victoria sighs, leans back and exults in the satisfaction. There will be refinements before the weekend comes, of course, but for now? After hours upon hours upon hours of focus, drain and focus again, late nights and discipline and doubt and resolve, it is done. Their first ever traction control system designed from the ground up for Imagikinetic propulsion in addition to Imagielectric traction is done.

A twinge in her chest. Up to you now, Ryker. I hope you make good use of it.

…

She smiles. An excited message can’t hurt.

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by **Nico Hulkenberg** » Fri Apr 04, 2025 2:02 pm

THE GRUNEBUCH by Josef Wortsagen

The race weekends have been coming thick and fast, which has made this mid-season break a rather welcome one. Of course, I used the break to do the many things that I had been unable to keep up with during my time with the travelling circus. I bought a new lawnmower and gave my unsightly garden a trim. I sampled the exquisite cuisine of a brand new Tumbran restaurant which had opened up near my house. I tested a new setting on my coffee machine to see if it made my drink taste any better - it did, but I worry that it was but a placebo effect. I shall report back next time with further coffee news. Most importantly, I relaxed. The country manor that I'm proud to call my home, tucked away many miles from Emmerich, was quite possibly the best place I could have imagined to take a break from all the drama, adrenaline, and testosterone of grand prix racing. You'd be surprised how many different types of bird, squirrel, and insect you can identify when you take a step back from life and focus on what's important - the small things. Life. The whole shabang. Nevertheless, the break is over, the teams are travelling, and it's time to get back to work.

We'll start off by looking at Pressley, who were rocked by the sudden and untimely death of the team's founder, CEO, and namesake, Charlie Pressley. There are rumours that the process of the team's succession are well underway, with championship leader Charlie Pressley and Thomas Kim set to battle it out for proper control over the team. Apart from that, things are rosy with the intra-team dynamic, with the drivers relatively assured of their future. There is a lot to be said for the championship leader inheriting the team with the current championship runner-up, which will surely create a curious situation within the team hailing from Grantfeldt.

If you thought the crisis at UrGa had mellowed whatsoever, think again. Vincent's antics in Patriotlandia had left many people less than pleased with the Recuecian, perhaps none less so than Nepo Kinder, who did not leave very much to interpretation as she publicly voiced her concerns with her teammate - directly to her teammate. The young Huelkenberger shoved von Visp against a wall and gave him a surprisingly good kicking both physically and verbally, only being prevented from doing further damage by her comparatively diminutive stature. Her height didn't stop her tongue from being as sharp as her nose, however, and whilst Vincent kept her at arm's length she continued her rant whilst other drivers watched on, a couple of her comments eliciting nods from other paddock figures. Such an outburst will undoubtedly be looked upon negatively by the powers that be within UrGa and the WGPO, but with the baron of Godknowswhere being responsible for ruining the races of three different drivers, it's no surprise that so few onlookers felt like stopping her rampage.

Today's Grunebuch has been cut short by a grand misuse of time and resources in amidst my trip to Aji no Moto being delayed several times. As it turns out, you can't pay cash for flights anymore. Because of woke.

by **Liventia** » Fri Apr 04, 2025 2:10 pm

CUTOFF

for Pre-Qualifying and the Sprint Race at Serizawa Racing Circuit

by **Liventia** » Fri Apr 04, 2025 2:37 pm

Week 10: Pre-Qualifying

Conditions:      	Rainy
Lap Record:      	00:01:17.466
Qualifying Type:	Traditional
Nation:         	ANM
Circuit:        	Serizawa Racing Circuit

POS # ▍DRIVER                                               	FASTEST LAP	GAP TO LEADER
 1 22 ▍Nini Johnsilvaturr                                   	00:01:30.907	00:00:00.000
 2  9 ▍Batu Tüvshinbayar                                    	00:01:30.924	00:00:00.017
 3 18 ▍Giancarlo Rahel                                      	00:01:31.058	00:00:00.151
 4 91 ▍Naveen Kalkar                                        	00:01:31.320	00:00:00.413  DNQS
 5 84 ▍Angela Stella Tan Fang Ling                          	00:01:31.524	00:00:00.617
 6 33 ▍Sam Blaatschapen                                     	00:01:31.900	00:00:00.993  DNQS
 7 13 ▍Pierre-Louis Archer                                  	00:01:32.688	00:00:01.781  DNQS
 8 10 ▍Ankei Souzare                                        	00:01:39.526	00:00:08.619  DNQS

DNQS – Did not qualify for sprint race

Week 10: Sprint Race

Conditions:      	Rainy
Laps:              	29
Nation:         	ANM
Circuit:        	Serizawa Racing Circuit
Event:                	Ajian Grand Prix presented by Aji Air – Sprint
Safety Car on Laps:	
Cars on Grid:        	26

Start               	POS  # ▍DRV Name                                         Team                                     	Time        	Pts	Fastest Lap	
 1 ▍VVV            	  1 66 ▍VVV Vincent Von Visp                             Urotovsky-Gatutin                            	00:48:14.796	8		
 2 ▍FAE            	  2 37 ▍HAU Laura Haukanna                               Pryfors Bilar                                	00:00:26.695	7		
 3 ▍LNG            	  3 12 ▍SOM Ron Sommer                                   Viska                                        	00:00:31.048	6		
 4 ▍KIN            	  4 89 ▍GTA Abdoulaye Goita                              Ælund Grand Prix                             	00:00:31.420	5		
 5 ▍FTZ            	  5 85 ▍STO Olivia Stone                                 Cygnus                                       	00:00:35.495	4		
 6 ▍HAU            	  6 55 ▍LNG Gil Langdon                                  KISMO                                        	00:00:42.317	3		
 7 ▍GTA            	  7 63 ▍KIN Nepö Kinder                                  Urotovsky-Gatutin                            	00:00:42.813	2		
 8 ▍SOM            	  8 17 ▍LAU Janne Laukkanen                              Nexus Racing                                 	00:00:53.397	1		
 9 ▍LAN            	  9 94 ▍LAN Ryker Lane                                   Nexus Racing                                 	00:00:56.600	
10 ▍CRU            	 10 77 ▍TII iBen Toralmintii                             Race Eelandii VTGP                           	00:00:58.727	
11 ▍LAU            	 11 27 ▍NÜL Dario Nülkeschlager                          Pressley Racing                              	00:01:03.207			
12 ▍NÜL            	 12 22 ▍JOH Nini Johnsilvaturr                           Pressley Racing                              	00:01:05.955			
13 ▍PRE            	 13 82 ▍LMN Kinu Luminna                                 Preston Autos                                	00:01:08.350			
14 ▍TII            	 14 58 ▍KAM Shuhei Kamado                                KISMO                                        	00:01:10.168			
15 ▍C23            	 15  1 ▍FAE Brendan Faloe                                Cygnus                                       	00:01:10.516			
16 ▍LMN            	 16 74 ▍FTZ Adonis Fitzpatrick                           HMG Grand Prix                               	00:01:25.987			
17 ▍BZW            	 17  9 ▍TUV Batu Tüvshinbayar                            WGPC Motorworks                              	00:01:27.176	 	1:33.311	
18 ▍VIA            	 18 88 ▍PRE Ted Pressley                                 Ælund Grand Prix                             	00:01:31.763			
19 ▍KAM            	 19 95 ▍BZW Hanna Berezowska                             HiTEN.gpt                                    	00:01:32.035			
20 ▍ARC            	 20 51 ▍CRU R.L. Cruisin                                 Piers Ivchenko                               	00:01:33.719			
21 ▍STO            	 21 23 ▍C23 Cocoabo #23                                  Race Eelandii VTGP                           	Laps Down: 1			
22 ▍HAZ            	 22 21 ▍HAZ Nik Hazrin Lutfi                             Piers Ivchenko                               	Laps Down: 1			
23 ▍JOH            	 23 18 ▍RAH Giancarlo Rahel                              WGPC Motorworks                              	Laps Down: 1			
24 ▍TUV            	 24 84 ▍ANG Angela Stella Tan Fang Ling                  Preston Autos                                	Laps Down: 1			
25 ▍RAH            	DNF 96 ▍ARC William Archer                               Viska                                        	Ret. lap 27			
26 ▍ANG            	DNF 14 ▍VIA Skiia Vialiv                                 HMG Grand Prix                               	Ret. lap 14

Drivers' standings

Pos # ▍DRV Name                                          Team [Engine]                                                                                Tyres                                        Pts
 1 88 ▍PRE Ted Pressley                                  Ælund Grand Prix [Ælund CMYK-T20V8H]                                                         Tropicorp Racing Supply                      54
 2 17 ▍LAU Janne Laukkanen                               Nexus Racing [Nexus Racing Paragon Warp]                                                     Phoenician-In Motion                         53
 2 27 ▍NÜL Dario Nülkeschlager                           Pressley Racing [Tropicorp TRE-2T24V8]                                                       Tropicorp Racing Supply                      53
 4 51 ▍CRU R.L. Cruisin                                  Piers Ivchenko [UrGa Zh-S-1000]                                                              Brimstone                                    43
 5 12 ▍SOM Ron Sommer                                    Viska [Viska RG Motors]                                                                      Phoenician-In Motion                         39
 6 37 ▍HAU Laura Haukanna                                Pryfors Bilar [Pryfors Bilar]                                                                Phoenician-In Motion                         38
 7 89 ▍GTA Abdoulaye Goita                               Ælund Grand Prix [Ælund CMYK-T20V8H]                                                         Tropicorp Racing Supply                      36
 8 94 ▍LAN Ryker Lane                                    Nexus Racing [Nexus Racing Paragon Warp]                                                     Phoenician-In Motion                         33
 9 66 ▍VVV Vincent Von Visp                              Urotovsky-Gatutin [UrGa Zh-S-1000]                                                           Solymok                                      26
10 55 ▍LNG Gil Langdon                                   KISMO [Kissan Motors KS.APEX-01]                                                             Solymok                                      24
11 63 ▍KIN Nepö Kinder                                   Urotovsky-Gatutin [UrGa Zh-S-1000]                                                           Solymok                                      23
11 74 ▍FTZ Adonis Fitzpatrick                            HMG Grand Prix [Preston Autos Skychief V6]                                                   Tropicorp Racing Supply                      23
13  1 ▍FAE Brendan Faloe                                 Cygnus [Sturmburgher PD02/25]                                                                Brimstone                                    20
14 77 ▍TII iBen Toralmintii                              Race Eelandii VTGP [Tropicorp TRE-2T24V8]                                                    Tropicorp Racing Supply                      14
15 23 ▍C23 Cocoabo #23                                   Race Eelandii VTGP [Tropicorp TRE-2T24V8]                                                    Tropicorp Racing Supply                      13
16 82 ▍LMN Kinu Luminna                                  Preston Autos [Preston Autos Skychief V6]                                                    Brimstone                                    12
17 95 ▍BZW Hanna Berezowska                              HiTEN.gpt [Franklin WGP-X2]                                                                  Brimstone                                    8
18 85 ▍STO Olivia Stone                                  Cygnus [Sturmburgher PD02/25]                                                                Brimstone                                    6
18 14 ▍VIA Skiia Vialiv                                  HMG Grand Prix [Preston Autos Skychief V6]                                                   Tropicorp Racing Supply                      6
20 58 ▍KAM Shuhei Kamado                                 KISMO [Kissan Motors KS.APEX-01]                                                             Solymok                                      4
20 30 ▍MAR Otto Markul                                   WGPC Motorworks [Franklin WGP-X2]                                                            Blue Sulphurate                              4
22 96 ▍ARC William Archer                                Viska [Viska RG Motors]                                                                      Phoenician-In Motion                         3
23 84 ▍ANG Angela Stella Tan Fang Ling                   Preston Autos [Preston Autos Skychief V6]                                                    Brimstone                                    1
23 21 ▍HAZ Nik Hazrin Lutfi                              Piers Ivchenko [UrGa Zh-S-1000]                                                              Brimstone                                    1

Constructors' standings

Pos NAT ▍Team [Engine]                                                                                Tyres                                        Pts
  1 ABL ▍Ælund Grand Prix [Ælund CMYK-T20V8H]                                                         Tropicorp Racing Supply                      90
  2 NIM ▍Nexus Racing [Nexus Racing Paragon Warp]                                                     Phoenician-In Motion                         86
  3 TMB ▍Pressley Racing [Tropicorp TRE-2T24V8]                                                       Tropicorp Racing Supply                      53
  4 PDN ▍Urotovsky-Gatutin [UrGa Zh-S-1000]                                                           Solymok                                      49
  5 DOU ▍Piers Ivchenko [UrGa Zh-S-1000]                                                              Brimstone                                    44
  6 AUR ▍Viska [Viska RG Motors]                                                                      Phoenician-In Motion                         42
  7 DCS ▍Pryfors Bilar [Pryfors Bilar]                                                                Phoenician-In Motion                         38
  8 HÜL ▍HMG Grand Prix [Preston Autos Skychief V6]                                                   Tropicorp Racing Supply                      29
  9 ANM ▍KISMO [Kissan Motors KS.APEX-01]                                                             Solymok                                      28
 10 V&T ▍Race Eelandii VTGP [Tropicorp TRE-2T24V8]                                                    Tropicorp Racing Supply                      27
 11 ESM ▍Cygnus [Sturmburgher PD02/25]                                                                Brimstone                                    26
 12 HVZ ▍Preston Autos [Preston Autos Skychief V6]                                                    Brimstone                                    13
 13 HDR ▍HiTEN.gpt [Franklin WGP-X2]                                                                  Brimstone                                    8
 14 WGP ▍WGPC Motorworks [Franklin WGP-X2]                                                            Blue Sulphurate                              4
 15 LIS ▍Eminent [Sidus 616W-1]                                                                       Blue Sulphurate                              0

by **Zalivinia** » Sat Apr 05, 2025 3:39 am

Berezowska’s time in the WGPC, though promising at first, had quickly turned into a circus, all thanks to HiTEN’s owner, Ankei Souzare. That Hodorian bastard was a selfish, reckless madman, and as the sprint race at Serizawa approached, Hanna had finally had enough.
She’d been patient, forgiving but this was the last straw.

“What do you mean we don’t have any wings left? We ran this one last two races!” Her voice snapped, echoing through the garage as she gestured at the scattered mess of empty boxes that lied on the floor as evidence of a fruitless search for parts.

Kato stood across from her, just as furious, throwing his hands up. “We can’t order new parts, he didn’t let us!” He. Souzare.
“I don’t know if he’s broke or just doesn’t give a damn, but we’re screwed!”

Hanna paced, her fingers digging into her temples, before stopping. The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Then with a cold and decisive voice the woman spoke.
“Take the wing off his car and put it on mine. It is in better shape anyways.”

Kato hesitated. “If he were here, we’d need half the pit crew to hold him down. And if he finds out? You’re gone. Hell, he might scrap the whole team.” Souzare was always gone somewhere after every failed attempt at qualifying.

Hanna’s glare was razor sharp. “So what? He doesn’t give a damn about us. Why should we care about him? He’s been deadweight, a complete piece of shit since the season started besides, he won't even notice.”

Kato exhaled. “Fine. You’ve got a point… but this is on you.” He waved over the mechanics, signaling them to strip the wing off Souzare’s car. “It’s not perfect, you know. Honestly, I’m not even sure it’ll make a difference. His car’s just as beat up as yours. Even if we scavenged everything from it, we’d still be fighting the bottom teams but at least we’d make a few more races.”

Hanna’s jaw tightened. “Then so be it. I’m not letting some rich, delusional bastard ruin my chances.”

A couple of hours later, the sprint began. 17th on the grid wasn’t ideal, but Berezowska told herself she’d manage.
It didn’t take long to realize the HiTEN car was slow on the straights and witchy under braking. A far cry from the machine she had driven in this season testing sessions.

“Souzare still not in the garage?” she radioed, half-hoping that had finally vanished for good.

“No. Lucky us. Just keep the pace.” Kato’s voice was tense.

By lap eight, the faster cars came hunting. Shuhei Kamado sliced past. Then Olivia Stone, her engine screaming as she left Hanna in the dust.
“Dammit.” Hanna’s grip tightened on the wheel. “This isn’t the same car I drove at Aboveland.”

“Forget them. Attack Vialiv you’re gaining, and watch Archer behind you.”
But the car fought her every move. Worn suspension. Fading brakes. Parts that should’ve been replaced three races ago. Yet if HiTEN wanted the one car on track, they had to make scraps last.
Hanna, though? Today, she wasn’t playing safe. She defended harder. Threw herself into gaps that barely existed. And on lap fourteen, Turn 10, she saw her chance.

With Vialivs car ahead Hanna braked late into the corner and, lunged inside her front wing was leveled with Vialiv’s rear. Tires screeched as she crossed the other drivers racing line, forcing her wide.

A gasp over the radio. “Contact? No—? Hanna, what the hell was that?!” Kato’s voice cracked. “We’re out of parts! Total this car, and we’re done! A penalty won’t help either!”

“Car’s fine,” she muttered. But she knew it was reckless, she was fighting at the back, for nothing. Yet today, her blood was boiling. Souzare’s neglect, the team’s desperation. It all poured into the wheel and Vialiv, probably never expected this from the usually composed and respectable rookie.

The rest of the race wasn’t any better. More cars passed and she lost two more positions ,she crossed the line 19th, behind Ted Pressley who’d somehow lost five positions.
As she climbed out, the weight of what came next hit her harder than the fatigue.
Souzare would storm in soon screaming and threatening. Maybe firing them all.
And after that? She’d have to face Vialiv, because Berezowska had manners, even if her patience had run out today.

by **Recuecn** » Sat Apr 05, 2025 3:57 am

Two sprint races, two podiums. But this time Vincent stood at the top. For the first time, he’d won a WGPC race, and he intended to make it everyone’s problem.

Vincent was more than happy for everyone else to be mad at him. He was used to others despising him—in fact, he’d started racing last season in the WGP2 specifically to stick it to his haters. Now he was finally accomplishing that goal. Here he was, at the award ceremony, accepting the first place trophy to prove that a villain could win.

In Patriotlandia two weeks ago, Vincent had only added to his resentment. His careless driving had been responsible for three other drivers’ misfortune—he’d damaged both Nini and Nepö’s cars when he’d collided with them, and in fact he’d shoved Nepö so hard that she’d hit Abdoulaye, knocking him into the barrier and out of the race. His wreck had caught fire, and the Ælund driver had narrowly been pulled out of the blaze.

The consequences had been essentially non-existent. Vincent made no apologies or statements, and got off without penalty. Rumors were beginning to swirl that he was paying off WGPO officials to turn a blind eye to his dirty driving. Everyone had seen Nepö chastising him in the paddock after the race, but Vincent made no effort to mollify her, and her anger seemed representative of the sentiment from the rest of the grid.

The break might have given Vincent a chance to drop under people’s radar, but instead he’d come into the second half of the season ready to make an impact. At the Aji No Moto sprint, he’d made no effort to race more cleanly, instead using his now-fearsome reputation as a weapon on the racetrack. Vincent had made it clear he was unafraid to shunt anyone else out of his way, regardless of danger to others’ life and limb. He found that giving other drivers a little extra incentive to stay out of his way worked wonders.

Now he reaped the rewards of his bad behavior: victory. It seemed deeply unjust that “the cheatingest driver in racing” was winning races now, and the mood among the journalists, fans, and other drivers at the podium ceremony made it clear how they all felt.

From atop the podium, Vincent could see the faces of the crowd, and he could read there their resentment. But it was only fuel to the fire. As his name was announced as the winner of the sprint, Vincent stepped forward, arms raised aloft, raising both his middle fingers to the sky.

Then, grabbing the bottle of champagne, he uncorked it without shaking it first, and leaning over the railing, poured it out over the paparazzi assembled in front of him.

Curses and swearing went up from the crowd, who now found themselves wet and covered in sticky champagne. A couple journalists yelled invectives at the antagonistic driver as they found their cameras ruined by the liquid. But Vincent was yelling a string of curses too, loud enough to drown out the complaints from the people below him.

“Allez vous faire niquer, bande de bâtards! Connards, que vous êtes dégueulasses, putain!” Realizing hardly anyone understood him, he switched to English. “I hope you pricks like this, because I’m just getting started. You can’t hold me back anymore!”

He dropped the champagne bottle on the ground and marched off, middle fingers still held high. He yelled one last parting shot. “Get fucked!”

As far as Vincent was concerned, his success justified his actions. If he was winning races, no one at UrGa or in the WGPC could say shit to him. He was invincible now.

That is, until he flew home.

With the investigation from the ministère des douanes et impôts, Vincent found himself having to return to Reçueçn more and more frequently—at least once a week, sometimes for two or three days. He’d spent most of the mid-season break there, strategizing with Valérie and trying to figure out how to have his employees at Visp Financier handle things.

The ministry agent—Conti, his name was, apparently—had managed to track Vincent down during the mid-season break and essentially force him into a meeting. Conti had shown him a hundred-guilder note in a clear ziploc bag, and given him an ultimatum.

“Does this look familiar, Monsieur Von Visp?”

“I mean of course, I deal with money all the time.”

“Well interestingly enough, even for people who often handle money, it’s quite rare for the same bill to go through your hands more than once. Yet you’ve held this note before.” Contipointed to the serial number printed on one side of the bill. “The ministry is aware you withdrew a million Guilders in cash earlier this year, and of course Visp Financier had to source those from the central bank. So we know the numbers on the bills you received.”

Vincent interrupted. “I travel a lot; I’m sure you know I race in the WGPC. I could have changed that note for foreign currency in any of a dozen countries without thinking about it. That’s not illegal.”

“For a hundred Guilders, no, it’s not illegal,” said Conti. “In fact, I don’t want to directly accuse you of anything. Some of my fellow agents found this note in circulation in Pridnestrovia, along with a large number of other numbered bills that we know were part of the sum you withdrew. If you brought that entire amount—a million Guilders—abroad, then yes, you would be required to report it to customs.”

The agent paused. Vincent glared at him. Conti seemed to think he could still get away with playing good cop, but Vincent was having none of it.

“I can understand why you might not want to report moving such a large sum of money to the douaniers,” said Conti, his tone reconciliatory. “If, for example, someone in Pridnestrovia was putting pressure on you.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

Vincent shifted awkwardly. “Well…” How was he meant to play this? Was this his chance to shift the blame? Claim he was being blackmailed, and get out of trouble?

“The allied states are aware that Pridnestrovia is known for its shady dealings—whether carried out by Pridnestrovian citizens, or their own government. If you are being pressured in any way, we can offer you protection in response for your cooperation with our investigation.”

Vincent had a sinking feeling.

“What would that look like?”

“Eventually, maybe letting us see some of your records. Or sharing info on your contacts. We know your team, UrGa, has military connections. The Pridnestrovian government may say those connections are a thing of the past, but come on, let’s be realistic. Anyway, as our investigation proceeds, we can figure out what your involvement looks like down the line. For now it’s easy.”

It was Vincent’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Ah?”

“I just need a name.”

“A name?”

“A name. Who did you give those million Guilders to?”

There was a pause as the two men eyed each other. The silence hung in the room.

“I’m sorry, Monsieur Conti. Of course I would love to help you if I could, but unfortunately your assumptions seem to be incorrect. I’ve definitely spent a lot of money in Pridnestrovia during the time I’ve spent there as a driver for UrGa, perhaps that explains the Guilders you’ve found.” Vincent jabbed a finger at the note lying on the table. “But no one is pressuring me to do anything. I certainly haven’t been making illicit payments to anyone. I don’t have a name to give you. This person you’re describing doesn’t exist.” Vincent couldn’t get the picture of Yakov out of his head. He could just see the look on his eyes when he’d opened the briefcase to inspect its contents.

“Well then.” Conti pushed back his chair and stood up. “I’m sorry to hear you can’t cooperate with us. Of course our investigation will have to proceed, and I’m sure you understand that if you cannot aid us willingly, we will be forced to directly target your finances—yours, and your companies.”

“Of course,” said Vincent. “By all means, do your due diligence.” And he too stood, and turning, left the room.

by **Doubeia** » Sat Apr 05, 2025 8:51 am

It was a conflict of feelings as Nini drove her car into parc ferme. The Ajian sprint race had gone well for Nini, but it didn’t go well enough. She was way more comfortable with overtaking others – 11 places gained isn’t anything to scoff at – but was it all worth it for twelfth place? If this had happened earlier in the season, she would probably have been more excited about her result, but now? As she drove past the chequered flag, she merely felt nonplussed with her performance. To her, she didn’t gain any points, so what was the use?

Nini wondered after the sprint if she was setting way too high expectations of herself. She saw how her engineers congratulated her with zest and happiness when she stepped into the garage, and they should be pleased with her result! Her overtaking heroics was just about the best the Pressley team could take away from a rather drab sprint for them. Still, she couldn’t reciprocate their ecstasy, hard as she tried. The best she could do was muster a smile for pleasantries, but her cheeks would start to hurt anyway. She hated to admit it, but she had been obsessed with the idea of scoring points…

…it sounded absurd, but finishing in the points was something Nini would like to experience this season. The feathers on her wings were starting to moult, and if she couldn’t take off in time, her WGPC career might be over in a few race’s time. She hated seeing how some of her fellow rookies were soaring in the sky. That Vincent prick even won the Ajian sprint race, and he cheated her out of the points previously! To Nini, her season thus far was a failure, only because she hadn’t scored points yet. She didn’t want to be the deadweight in the Pressley team; Dario shouldn’t be single-handedly fighting for Pressley in the championship without her help.

After the race debrief, Nini was walking back to hospitality when she felt vibrations in her pocket. Whipping out her phone, she was met with a message from Adriana Kowalski: “How are you?”

(back in Patriotlandia)
”Hi, Nini! Well, err- I’m Adriana, so err… nice to see and meet you. Nothing much, really, I was wondering if- well, I don’t want to remind you of it, but seeing how things have not been too good with us, I was wondering as to if you need someone to talk to and have a chat with, you know? Something casual, and hey, I am okay if you are busy with your own matters as well!”

Nini had to crane her neck up to see who’d suddenly talked to her. Admittedly, Adriana hadn’t struck Nini as someone familiar, and she had to put a few puzzle pieces together before remembering who she was at all. Adriana Kowalski, driver for Eminent. Eminent hadn’t been doing too well then, and if Nini was correct, they were almost about to be kicked out of the season. Unfortunately, that would majorly fuck over Adriana who would be left without a drive. As cruel as it was, Nini found solace in the fact that even if she had a bad race, at least she had seat security for the rest of the season. At that point she just felt bad.

Realising she had gone a few awkward seconds without responding to Adriana, Nini quickly spoke.

“Oh, hey Adriana! Uhh, I… I’d appreciate the company…” Nini didn’t know why she came off as sheepishly as she did. Someone new to talk to was always welcome, and when that someone new practically offered to be companions with Nini, how could she refuse? Nini knew little about Adriana, but her first impression of her was good. She seemed friendly, and she didn’t want to question her openness. The paddock had always been a lonely place for Nini, but now that she had someone to talk to, maybe this was a new friendship blossoming.

Kokomiya looked at the telemetry in confusion. Surely Cruisin’s setup couldn’t have been this bad… or could it?

As the Piers Ivchenko garage witnessed Cruisin make a slow but painful descent from a points-scoring position to twentieth, Kokomiya had something else in mind: Oliveira had invited her to dinner, and at a multiversally-acclaimed restaurant, no less. Kokomiya had noticed Oliveira acting weirdly towards her for a while now. It started with that victory dinner, with him offering to drive her home. Then, it was the random treats and goodies she’d receive at her office door. She had her suspicions, and they were confirmed when she caught Oliveira in the act: she witnessed him plant a familiar brown paper bag at her office door before scurrying off.

As the weeks passed, Oliveira would start throwing Kokomiya subtle compliments, even during the heat of a race. She remembered him praising her for “her” good strategy calls, even if she had no say in them. If it wasn’t compliments, it was him trying to get close with her physically. He would always linger around her in the headquarters lounge. If subtlety was his tactic, he was doing a poor job with it. Kokomiya tried to understand Oliveira’s actions. If he liked her that much, why not approach him directly instead of playing this hide and seek game? Then again, he probably didn’t want to jeopardise their relationship, or friendship. Still, Kokomiya didn’t have feelings for Oliveira. She saw him as a friend and a subordinate, nothing more. He was a good person with a talent for engineering. She couldn’t lie, he was cute, but her feelings stopped there.

As Kokomiya made her way to the restaurant, she felt a mix of guilt and uncertainty. Guilt because it didn’t feel right to spend the race weekend on some expensive dinner when she should have been in charge of the team, and confusion because… what was going to happen at the dinner? Questions and scenarios raced her mind. Was Oliveira going to take this opportunity to confess to her, or did he want to have dinner with her “just because”? Kokomiya was worried that she had been leading Oliveira all this while. To her, all those lunches and meetings she had with him were just meetups, and her ruffling his hair? Well, she liked how soft his hair was. To her, none of these might have meant much, but she realised how they might just have meant something to him.

Kokomiya tried to come up with responses in case Oliveira indeed confessed to her. It felt stupid to assume that the dinner was solely because he wanted to confess to her, but she couldn’t help it. Not with all the signs he was throwing. She didn’t want to break his heart, but she didn’t want to come across as accepting his confession. She and her friends joked about dating younger men, but when the opportunity to do that actually came about, suddenly the age gap between her and Oli felt a bit uncomfortable. She couldn’t stop seeing him as a junior. She knew she had to be both soft and firm with her rejection, but it had been a long time since she’d rejected someone.

Just then, Kokomiya could hear Oliveira’s voice calling her name.

“Oh my days, sorry for being late!” he apologised as he panted. Looking at her and then her dress, he made sure to compliment her dress.

“Nice dress, by the way.”

Kokomiya seemed slightly flustered. Her dress wasn’t the best in her wardrobe, but she had an idea why he liked it. As the two entered the restaurant and were seated, an awkward silence filled the space between the two. Oliveira was playing with his fingers as his eyes shifted all over the place. Kokomiya, meanwhile, was suddenly very interested in the restaurant menu. She was about to mentally decide which dish to order when Oliveira spoke up.

“By the way, urm… I think you’re curious why I– I invited you… invited you in the first place.”

“Yes, I am. I’m just surprised you picked such a lavish restaurant,” Kokomiya replied as she put down the menu and looked at Oliveira. His eyes couldn’t decide between looking at her, her dress and the Very Interesting Painting on the wall.

“Well… I have something to say.” Oliveira gulped and huffed a small puff of air. As the two made eye contact, Kokomiya could see the desire in Oliveira’s eyes. They held an expression so foreign, so unlike anything she had seen from him. Was he…?

“I love you.”

World Grand Prix Championship 21 [RP/results]

Part-2

WGPC21- Sipplier Performance / Orange Works - Mid Season

WGPC21 VII-3 - Woe, Hope and Thinking

Mid-Season Reflection

9. Agility

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