World Grand Prix Championship 21 [RP/results]

[Auruna]

Hapilopper Grand Prix Circuit
Hapilopper City, Hapilopper
Preston Autos Hapilopper Grand Prix Weekend

It didn't take long for the news to reach Laura. She'd be lying if she said that she didn't feel devastated after hearing about her teammate. Sam is the only other driver in WGPC that she felt close to, the only driver she had fun hanging out with and genuinely enjoyed her company. While Laura still knew that there's nothing she could do about it, she's still deeply saddened by the realisation that she might not see Sam again after the season ends.

But first, she has something to deal with.

After getting through the hightened security due to a recent explosive attack in the city, Laura made her way to the PB motorhome hoping that Aldauren is already there. Erik was the first person she encountered who briefly spoke his mind out to her saying that "there was nothing this troublesome before". Laura let him vent out his frustrations as they walked together toward the PB motorhome.

Inside, the two split up, Erik headed to the briefing room and Laura went off to look for Aldauren to continue where they left off where she could only answer "I don't know". Peering through the glass insert on the temporary office's door, she knocked softly. After being allowed in, Aldauren looked at her, already knowing that it must be something serious based on Laura's body language.

After taking a seat, Laura spoke up. "Um, about what happened to Sam." She said, her voice sounded worried not only for her teammate but also herself as she continued. "I know I couldn't do much about it but I fear that I might next to be let go based on what I heard. I honestly want to continue with driving for PB. I just feel at home here. I couldn't see myself driving for another team for now, unless I don't have a choice. But at least for one more season, I want to race for you."

Hearing what Laura had to say, Aldauren reassured her and that he is quite glad to hear the young Aurun's desire to continue with PB. He could see relief in her face with her mouthing "Oh kiitan jumal..." but also knew that it wasn't enough to completely dispel her worries. He could only go so far with motivating her with words.

Laura then left not long after she thanked Aldauren. As soon as she stepped outside, at the distance she could see Sam walking. Laura figured that she could try talking to her but them became indecisive for a brief moment after thinking about it carefully. She shook her head as she decided to take the opportunity to say something to her.

Laura caught up to Sam at the paddock after calling out to her. She didn't know what to actually say at first considering what was going on as Sam gave her a confused look. The atmosphere was undeniably tense but Laura ultimately decided to just get on with it knowing that there might not be another chance to talk to her like this but she wanted to make it brief. After picking her words, she first cleared her throat before speaking.

"Hey, I know this is a bad time but I just wanted to get it over with. If you want to continue racing, feel free to come to Auruna. Just let me know and I know someone who can get you started there. Maybe there... we get to race together, or against each other." Laura paused for a bit as she tried to read Sam's facial expressions. "J-just letting you know. It's up to you."

"Sorry about that." Laura apologised before walking towards the PB garage. Once out of sight, she sighed to herself. She never felt that nervous before and she felt that she needed either Erik or Haru's comforting words to calm her down. She just didn't want to lose contact with Sam, whom she considers her only friend in the grid.

Seconds pass by and Laura composes herself. She still has some work to do with Erik which is why she was headed to the garage. She thought that it might help her get her mind off the current situation, it was a hectic weekend.

But she still has a race to do.

---

---

Artur just couldn't believe it, trouble inside and outside the team. It was too much to handle, even for someone like him. While thankful that he doesn't have to deal with Schkeska's shenanigans with Kiiro taking on the controversial situation in the MNA, he is unsure what his next actions should be. Without Jöna, who is undeniably much better at dealing with the more stressful aspects of being team principal, Artur was just at a loss. The incident with William Archer was something new to him. Luckily it wasn't much worse than what Artur anticipated when he messaged Jöna and that William didn't go after someone who did their mandatory military service and was trained for close combat or things could actually get messy.

Between the two incidents that the team is facing, Artur knew that he had to do something and it should be settled privately. He figured that it's the best out of all that he came up with. It was late in the season and he didn't want things to go wrong for his team before... and even after the season ends. He didn't want to explain to Jöna what had gone wrong after all.

With the incident noted in his head, he made a call for in case it happens again. He didn't want to do it but he didn't want to risk another, or even more people getting hurt.

He didn't have to wait for long before a familiar voice answered. "Yeah?"

"Iina? Sorry for calling you while you're busy with TTGP but I'm just letting you know that we might need you for when something happens here. It's a bit hard to explain."

"I thought I'm not allowed?"

"Well, we could do something to get your license upgraded."

"I already have an S-class license. What I meant is that I though the MNA only allows two Aurun drivers for WGPC."

"You're right. Maybe you could represent Marešai or Kuyonne?"

"I doubt that will work."

"You're really not the type to bend the rules a bit." Artur sighed in defeat. "Alright, hopefully I'll figure something out. It was worth a shot."

Artur could hear Iina's teasing chuckle on the phone before hanging up. He tried even if he knew that it was quite difficult talking to her as he pinched his nose bridge and shook his head after the call ended. "Why did it have to be her..."

He then tried with a Kuyonnen driver but he had no luck with convincing him. Artur tried and tried until he ran out of options.

Looks like there's not much we can do about it.

Pushing it aside for now, he switched his focus on a 'gift' that he prepared. Being the only one in the team privy to the Sommer family's troubles, he just couldn't sit back and not help out as he is typically supportive of the drivers he personally chose. Kinu Luminna, Lirei Kaanerimaana, and Miria Kÿremihänä were in similar situations and Artur didn't stand idly by and watched from afar. After being granted permission to do it by Kiiro and knowing that Jöna would've done the same thing, Artur sent a small but significant amount of money labeled "healthcare bonus" to Ron in addition to his normal salary to support him even through Viska's unusual financial situation in the wake of the Schkeska controversy.

And it's still not the end of Artur's office work as he still had piles and piles of work to do.

Meanwhile, the race engineers had been working hard. Esko with Ron as they solidly worked together both on and off the track as they aim to get more and better results, maybe another win if possible. Then there's Jan who has his workload increase as he was one of the people tasked to keep a close eye on William especially after what happened and since that he might be one of the few that are actually up to the task.

Hopefully for Artur, they could just focus on the race from now on.

[Aboveland]

Hapilopper City, Hapilopper

Hapilopper City was one of the few places in the multiverse where the air was permanently imbued with an unmistakable energy, the same that was true in the paddocks and forests across the Hodori Archipelago, the mountains of central and western Aboveland and, to a certain extent, albeit with a cooler, more mystical aura, above the lapping waves of Crossbay. It was the way the sickly scent of lubricant grease lingered in the air, how the fragrant aroma of bubbling rubber wafted across the city streets, and the sight of swarms of people all proudly donning their most crazed passions on their chests, their backs, their heads, their faces. There was a certain energizing heat that permeated the garage at Hapilopper City, and though it had never exactly fallen quite into Ælund's favor, it was tantalizing all the same.

It was refreshing to arrive at Hapilopper on an upwards charge. Cruisin — who had suddenly broken through as a late title favorite — had spoiled the team's ambitions of a second formation finish at the top in Ile Saint-Joseph, but with Abs coming around in third, and the Chase Cutters struggling to convert Ryker's pace and Janne's mettle into significant points, the gap at the top of the teams' championship had mercifully fallen into their hands. To have come up from the dizzying lows of last season with a chance at a fourth, citation needed, constructors' title was even more than Edvin and Terho had hoped for at the start of the season.

So many things had changed, in fact, since the start of the season.

Sparring for a constructors' title with Nexus Racing was a welcome and unexpected surprise. Through perhaps the friendliest rivalry in history between Terho and Ryker, and then through the team's working relationship with Janne — for whom Terho had played some cards at the start of his career — there was a special kind of bond between both teams. In the heads of the Ælund Racing administrators, and by extension in Edvin's, too, the season had been expected to pan out in an entirely different way. A battle for Esportivan supremacy had been in store; if there was one team in Lintulahti's sights, it was Preston and their customer teams, and their increasingly successful engine supply program which had seen their power extend far beyond the limits of the Dominion. Alas, reality had had its own twisted turn of fate: Preston had just about fallen off the face of the Earth; UrGa had decided to shoot themselves in both feet with a Pridnestrovian nuclear warhead to hire a nepo baby and a flesh-borne spinoff of Satan himself; and the rest of the Tropicorp semi-works ensemble hadn't managed to put on a lasting and consistent challenge. In the end, even Ælund's sponsors had had to walk back on their plans: Tribytelse's Get Good spoofs were canned almost immediately — there'd been little to goad or taunt the rest of the field with when they had been either so solidly the class of the field or challenged by technology so foreign and alien that they might as well have been competing in an air show.

Ultimately, too, it meant that Ælund Grand Prix, long live the three-letter acronym of yore, had entered a new era. The early-season teething problems with the drivetrain sync had all but evaporated after a couple of costly incidents, and CYMK Racing Technologies had seemingly made a world-beating power unit on their first try; the brand-new, new-look chassis had proved wondrous to work on, for drivers and mechanics alike, and the killer buzz that used to fill the halls at Lintulahti had begun to stir in the air once again; and behind the wheel of both AGP007s sat, perhaps, Ælund's long-sought answer.

Edvin had found himself lost in all of these thoughts throughout the weekend at Hapilopper. Perhaps the unprecedented acts of actual terrorism, the enhanced security detail in and around the circuit, and the faces of consternation that peppered the paddock's pundits, marshals, drivers, engineers, and the like had something to do with it. Terho's voice swirled constantly in his head every time the glisten of the deep blue sidepods pierced into his eyes. They'd shared the same specific sentiment years ago, when Terho had done just enough in Liventia to claw a championship out of the jaws of defeat, thanks to a healthy serving of perfectly timed good fortune: would Tropicorp Racing Ælund ever be the same after iBen and Terho? For the longest time, the answer had seemed like no — but nobody could have predicted the catalyst that had been the Echocoin scandal, the fallout with the Hodori GT-A, the merciless driver swaps and shuffles — or the future of the team to have been secured without the only driver to have remained for longer than Terho himself. As it was, the season had kept one crushing ace up it's sleeve.

Maybe running a brand new, untested, in-house power unit for the first time had been the most audacious decision to come out of Lintulahti, or maybe it was just a third of a three-ingredient cocktail: new chassis, new engine, and an absurdly ambitious new lineup. Pre-season talking points pondered the potential of Ælund's lineup, but it remained swamped in a cloak of doubt. Up against a Nexus with two championship top-three drivers (and one champion), a Piers Ivchenko with a wealth of experience in Cruisin, a Race Eelandii that had offered respite to a former world champion and a really fast bird, and an HMG that had thrown money and vibes at a problem to snatch up the architects of an emphatic constructors' title, Ælund's real pace was diffuse. Ted Pressley had been good enough, especially when actual championship points were not on the line, while Goita was a proven winner... but with the mother of all sabbaticals thrown in the works. Something inexplicable had brewed in the tired minds of Ælund Grand Prix — some called it desperation, others a leap of faith, and others an ultimatum on the spectacled man whose office overlooked Lintulahti International Circuit — and from day one, the fruits had blossomed.

The pieces of the puzzle had all gracefully wafted into place, some quicker than others. In both drivers — in exceedingly different ways — the keys of success had been brandished. Ted had suddenly found the spark he so desperately needed to devour the world in front of him, and had also finally had the car under him to put it to work. There'd been detours, missteps, and surprises along the way — the occasional hickey and scraggled hair that he brought to the simulator were but window dressing that revealed a deeper and more twisted conundrum within him, and that was all before he'd actually literally become the owner of a rival team — but he'd showed exactly what Edvin had seen in him in those fated pre-season Vankkavalta tests: a deep-rooted, searing passion, wrapped in a thick shell of stoicism; a remarkable and long-lost ability to clench his teeth and just get on with it. On the opposite side of the garage, Abdoulaye had spurted and grown like a valiant baobab — there was an intrinsically poetic and sentimental quality to the Reçuecian who, perhaps, while not wearing his heart on his sleeve in the paddock, had his eyes and his shoulders betray him on more than one occasion. With Terho's careful early guidance, he'd relearned how to swim, but that was all the weaning that he needed. There was no need to chase the elusive, mystifying "feeling". With time, the feeling had come to find Abdoulaye.

All of that rousing, intoxicating Hapilopper City feeling had effused on the somber morning of race day; the drumming, emphatic daydreams of growth development, evolution, and rebirth had taken a backstage to the harrowing events that had unfolded. Police sirens towered over the buildings that lined the streets of the circuit; the constant reminder of the twisted bounty placed devilishly on Oh Crap There's a Wall hung in everybody's heads, and no doubt moreso in the cerulean-lined garage; people shuffled themselves nervously out of every garage to meet with Hapiloppian police and viligant WGPO staff — for the first time ever, physically present. An uneasing, evil energy had sapped the energy out of the Hapiloppian Grand Prix, and the story was no different in the Ælund Grand Prix garage. But at such a late, crucial stage of the championship, after all that every one of them had grown and changed and sacrificed throughout the season, there was no room for putting their hands down. Now, more than ever, it was time to lift themselves up by their bootstraps and, put simply, get on with it.

[Tropicorp]

#23 'Fast' Cocoabo'
Race Eelandii VTGP

. Drivers Standings:  14 pts (17th)
       Average Qual:  13.1   (9th)
     Average Finish:  15.3   (19th)
Positions Over Grid:  -1.3   (21st)

Friday afternoon, when all the on track action was done with, Cocoabo #23 was escorted out to the fan zone where representatives from Cocoabo Park and the Cocoabo Enhancement and Enrichment Project were on hand with a team full of Cocoabo demonstrating some of the unique abilities and skills they had been trained to develop through their time under tutelage at Cocoabo Park. Of course, this is also here the Motorsports journey for Cocoabo #23 had started. At the Cocoabo Park Circuit, with the CEEP Trainers. Lap after Lap after lap. It really was a wonder that Cocoabo #23 wasn't able to win the first and only ever World Grand Prix Championship event at the Cocoabo Park Circuit, but as always there were so many factors that went into such a thing it is difficult to truly predict the out come of a motor race.

For once, however, Cocoabo #23 was given permission to focus on something other than Auto Racing. With the team languishing in the standings, still mathematically within Championship range but realistically well outside of it, Intoreil Palmstii'i gave the blessing to take Cocoabo #23 out of the safety of the Paddock and out into the wilderness with the fans. Of course, it may have been a risky decision considering the terrorist attacks that havereportedly been found to be targeting the Hapilopper City Grand Prix course, but nevertheless, team officials felt that the odds of being able to get a Cocoabo back through security wit the proper paperwork were probably also higher than should the Cocoabo be rejected and unable to get security cleared to re-enter the Paddock.

Always a charmer, Cocoabo #23 insisted on an autograph session when they arrived at the Cocoabo Park booth. During this session, and somehow unnoticed by the CEEP team, a small child had managed to yoink Cocoabo #23's Paddock Hot Pass. Due to the thick feathers around Fast Cocoabo's neck, the team always attach Cocoabo #23's Hot Pass via a breakable lanyard, designed to snap on and off at the back of the next and allowing the team to quickly pull the pass down and off the Cocoabo driver as needed. Then, if it needs to be re-attached they simply loop it around and re-attach the Clasps. It was this design, however, that also made it so simple for the Badge to be taken.

Of course, there was very little risk of whoever took Cocoabo #23's hot pass being able to actually enter the Paddock area with that Pass. With the extra security measures in place, even the lightest of scrutiny of the hot pass would demonstrate that the holder was not actually a Cocoabo. Yet, then again, with Cocoabo hoodies being the #1 selling merchandise item at the @CocoaboPark booth, it could potentially happen that security guard of lower intelligence may not be able or willing to ascertain the difference between a fully grown Cocoabo and a child or parent wearing a Cocoabo Hoodie.

For Cocoabo #23, it wasn't a concern. They were there to spend some social time with other Cocoabo. For the CEEP team, however, it was certainly an issue. The real question was, do they handle it themselves or report the lost pit pass to the track officials.

---

#14 SKIIA VIALIV
HMG GRAND PRIX

. Drivers Standings:  10 pts (19th)
       Average Qual:  13.9   (13th)
     Average Finish:  16.3   (22nd)
Positions Over Grid:  -4.1   (29th)

For the second week in a row, it was a major opportunity blown for Skiia Vialiv and the HMG Grand Prix Team. One week after botching a pole position start with a finish outside the podium, Skiia Vialiv would qualify in second position for the Grand Prix d'Île Saint-Joseph and finish outside the points entirely. 14th place. Of course, there was little excuse. Sure, it was Raining. But Skiia Vialiv could hardly blame the Tyres for over shooting la herse twice and Frontiere three teams nearly ending her day entirely. No, it couldn't be the Tyres because Tropicorp's Storm Variant Wet Weather tyre was being used on Four of the Top 5 finishers in the race. Whatever the cause, the result was obvious. Sure points turned into no points just like that. A Micocosm of the season thus far for Skiia and her teammate Adonis Fitzpatrick.

While Skiia was focused on the fact that she had just blown an outstanding opportunity to pick up more points, she noticed that Donny seemed bothered by something as well. She wasn't entirely sure, she usually just spoke to him about Racing and not much else. But she had a sense that it might have something to do with Batu Tüvshinbayar. The TJUN-ia licensed driver had out paced both of the HMG Cars and finished in 8th position at the Circuit d'Arès taking points in a WGPC Motorworks entry. Now, it was being rumored that the former World Grand Prix 2 champion would be in line for a full time seat with KISMO Racing.

Altogether, the mood was sour as the team left Saint Joseph. Maybe in the back of their minds they knew that they wouldn't be challenging for a Constructors Championship this season, but they still needed to figure out what was wrong. For Skiia Vialiv, the defending runner-up in the Drivers Championship standings, the #14 team was currently sitting 29th overall in Positions over Grid - in a field that consists of just 28 drivers on grid each week. Skiia's average thus far saw them losing -4.1 positions per race. And that was the best performing number on the team. HMG Grand Prix teammate Adonis Fitzpatrick sat 30th in the metric averaging a loss of -4.3 positions per week firmly putting HMG Grand Prix at the very bottom amongst all teams in losing positions on race day.

So what was the team to do? Skiia Vialiv wasn't sure, but it seemed to be related to Reliability. The team was certainly showing speed. Back-to-Back front row Qualifying efforts. A fastest lap in the race for Adonis Fitzpatrick. The Preston-Tropicorp competition had speed just like it did last season with Urotovski-Gatutin. What it didn't have was consistency. It couldn't maintain that speed over the distance. Skiia didn't have the answers, but she at least felt like they weren't as far off as the doomsday Monday Morning meetings at the HMG Entwicklungszentrum would seemingly think that they were.


Note: It appears images aren't fully working so twii's can't be attached right now

[TJUN-ia]

WGPC 21
Round 8
Preston Autos Hapilopper Grand Prix
Hapilopper City Grand Prix Circuit, Hapilopper City, Hapilopper

Motorsport can be funny, huh? One day, you're doing an ad campaign with your cohort of teammates (racing soapboxes at an amusement park) and then that night, everything changes. Without warning, you have to say goodbye to your former colleagues before flying out to Hapilopper to drive a different car - one in black, red and yellow. After starting the season at ANMARA and via a point-scoring detour at the Motorworks program, Batu Tüvshinbayar had ended up at KISMO itself, the place he had been contracted to from the very start of this season. Amidst this silly season within the season, Shuhei Kamado was dropped for the Mongolian, and while replacing an Ajian driver in an Ajian team didn't exactly seem fun, Batu couldn't focus on that now. Batu was, in his mind, in a late-season audition with KISMO. Impress in the red car over the final three races, and maybe KISMO would be impressed enough to keep him on for next year. Scoring points in the Motorworks car around Île Saint-Joseph was already a plus one on his resume, but he knew that next season was still an enigma - one that needed to be solved as soon as possible. He didn't want to go through last offseason again, that was for certain!

Hap City GP Circuit - the legendary home of "Oh Crap, There's A Wall" and the betting rings surrounding it - was tight with security after a recent double EV bombing spree by foreign terrorists tried to send a message to those against the previously-proposed EV ban here in Hapilopper. The WGPC gave the teams and drivers, in the wake of the heightened tensions, the chance to drop out if they so chose - but no one did, as of Saturday night. Practice, despite everything, went as normal and so Batu had 75 minutes to try and get used to his new beast. The KSH03, powered by KISMO's own engine, was a far different car to the Motorworks-Franklin he had dealt with thus far, one more geared to his aggressive driving style than what he had before, but it was still a learning experience all the same. While the Pressley team got a 1-2 in this session, the KISMOs were 17th and 18th - with Batu beating Katzeburg's Gil Langdon by inches.

Heading into Saturday qualifying, the mission for the Mongolian was simple: just go out there and try your best. No one was expecting him to jump into this car and get a front row start on debut, but just see what you could do. Hap City was certainly a fun circuit to drive, one that rewarded consistency above all else, so qualifying in P12, 0.428 off pole, seemed like a good start to this new era from the Mongolian...until he realised who was on pole. You see, Batu must've guessed that after Kamado got the boot, Langdon must've felt that his seat wasn't exactly secure either and wanted to make a point. He did just that. By grabbing pole. Again.

Now, Batu will have a huge target to try and chase tomorrow...but one that seemed to be misunderstood. As far as Batu was concerned, Langdon would be his teammate for the rest of this season...but maybe Gil didn't believe that, considering what happened to Kamado. It made sense - if KISMO were willing to replace an Ajian, they could replace anyone - but Batu knew he had to help dispell those rumours eventually. He hoped to wish Gil good luck before tomorrow...and see how things went from there.

[Liventia]

CUTOFF

for the Preston Autos Hapilopper Grand Prix at Hapilopper City Grand Prix Circuit

[Liventia]

Week 13: Race

Conditions:      	Dry
Laps:              	55
Nation:         	HAP
Circuit:        	Hapilopper City Grand Prix Circuit
Event:                	Preston Autos Hapilopper Grand Prix
Safety Car on Laps:	
Cars on Grid:        	28

Start               	POS  # ▍DRV Name                                         Team                                     	Time        	Pts	Fastest Lap	
 1 ▍LNG            	  1 55 ▍LNG Gil Langdon                                  KISMO                                        	01:30:43.230	25		
 2 ▍GTA            	  2 22 ▍JOH Nini Johnsilvaturr                           Pressley Racing                              	00:00:12.712	18		
 3 ▍KIN            	  3 51 ▍CRU R.L. Cruisin                                 Piers Ivchenko                               	00:00:32.144	14		
 4 ▍JOH            	  4 84 ▍ANG Angela Stella Tan Fang Ling                  Preston Autos                                	00:00:32.767	11		
 5 ▍ANG            	  5 14 ▍VIA Skiia Vialiv                                 HMG Grand Prix                               	00:00:49.640	8		
 6 ▍LMN            	  6 82 ▍LMN Kinu Luminna                                 Preston Autos                                	00:00:54.323	6		
 7 ▍LAN            	  7 91 ▍KAL Naveen Kalkar                                WGPC Motorworks                              	00:00:58.294	4		
 8 ▍SOM            	  8 17 ▍LAU Janne Laukkanen                              Nexus Racing                                 	00:01:07.296	3		
 9 ▍CRU            	  9 96 ▍ARC William Archer                               Viska                                        	00:01:09.559	2		
10 ▍VIA            	 10  1 ▍FAE Brendan Faloe                                Cygnus                                       	00:01:21.450	1		
11 ▍PRE            	 11 37 ▍HAU Laura Haukanna                               Pryfors Bilar                                	00:01:23.278			
12 ▍TUV            	 12 63 ▍KIN Nepö Kinder                                  Urotovsky-Gatutin                            	00:01:28.366			
13 ▍ARC            	 13 13 ▍PLA Pierre-Louis Archer                          WGPC Motorworks                              	00:01:29.751			
14 ▍VVV            	 14 11 ▍OKF Jjuko Okafor                                 Piers Ivchenko                               	00:01:39.438			
15 ▍FAE            	 15 66 ▍VVV Vincent Von Visp                             Urotovsky-Gatutin                            	Laps Down: 1			
16 ▍LAU            	 16 18 ▍RAH Giancarlo Rahel                              WGPC Motorworks                              	Laps Down: 1			
17 ▍C23            	 17 77 ▍TII iBen Toralmintii                             Race Eelandii VTGP                           	Laps Down: 1			
18 ▍TII            	 18 27 ▍NÜL Dario Nülkeschlager                          Pressley Racing                              	Laps Down: 1			
19 ▍FTZ            	 19  9 ▍TUV Batu Tüvshinbayar                            KISMO                                        	Laps Down: 1			
20 ▍OKF            	 20 74 ▍FTZ Adonis Fitzpatrick                           HMG Grand Prix                               	Laps Down: 1			
21 ▍HAU            	 21 95 ▍BZW Hanna Berezowska                             TACH GPC                                     	Laps Down: 1			
22 ▍NÜL            	 22 94 ▍LAN Ryker Lane                                   Nexus Racing                                 	Laps Down: 1			
23 ▍BZW            	 23 33 ▍BLA Sam Blaatschapen                             Pryfors Bilar                                	Laps Down: 1			
24 ▍KAL            	 24 12 ▍SOM Ron Sommer                                   Viska                                        	Laps Down: 1			
25 ▍STO            	 25 85 ▍STO Olivia Stone                                 Cygnus                                       	Laps Down: 2			
26 ▍RAH            	DNF 23 ▍C23 Cocoabo #23                                  Race Eelandii VTGP                           	Ret. lap 48	 + 1	1:32.738
27 ▍PLA            	DNF 88 ▍PRE Ted Pressley                                 Ælund Grand Prix                             	Ret. lap 42			
28 ▍BLA            	DNF 89 ▍GTA Abdoulaye Goita                              Ælund Grand Prix                             	Ret. lap 8

Drivers' standings

Pos # ▍DRV Name                                          Team [Engine]                                                                                Tyres                                        Pts
 1 51 ▍CRU R.L. Cruisin                                  Piers Ivchenko [UrGa Zh-S-1000]                                                              Brimstone                                    100
 2 88 ▍PRE Ted Pressley                                  Ælund Grand Prix [Ælund CMYK-T20V8H]                                                         Tropicorp Racing Supply                      79
 3 27 ▍NÜL Dario Nülkeschlager                           Pressley Racing [Tropicorp TRE-2T24V8]                                                       Tropicorp Racing Supply                      62
 4 89 ▍GTA Abdoulaye Goita                               Ælund Grand Prix [Ælund CMYK-T20V8H]                                                         Tropicorp Racing Supply                      61
 5 17 ▍LAU Janne Laukkanen                               Nexus Racing [Nexus Racing Paragon Warp]                                                     Phoenician-In Motion                         57
 6 94 ▍LAN Ryker Lane                                    Nexus Racing [Nexus Racing Paragon Warp]                                                     Phoenician-In Motion                         51
 7 55 ▍LNG Gil Langdon                                   KISMO [Kissan Motors KS.APEX-01]                                                             Solymok                                      49

 8 37 ▍HAU Laura Haukanna                                Pryfors Bilar [Pryfors Bilar]                                                                Phoenician-In Motion                         44
 9 12 ▍SOM Ron Sommer                                    Viska [Viska RG Motors]                                                                      Phoenician-In Motion                         39
10 22 ▍JOH Nini Johnsilvaturr                            Pressley Racing [Tropicorp TRE-2T24V8]                                                       Tropicorp Racing Supply                      29
11 84 ▍ANG Angela Stella Tan Fang Ling                   Preston Autos [Preston Autos Skychief V6]                                                    Brimstone                                    26
11 66 ▍VVV Vincent Von Visp                              Urotovsky-Gatutin [UrGa Zh-S-1000]                                                           Solymok                                      26
13 63 ▍KIN Nepö Kinder                                   Urotovsky-Gatutin [UrGa Zh-S-1000]                                                           Solymok                                      25
13 77 ▍TII iBen Toralmintii                              Race Eelandii VTGP [Tropicorp TRE-2T24V8]                                                    Tropicorp Racing Supply                      25
15 74 ▍FTZ Adonis Fitzpatrick                            HMG Grand Prix [Preston Autos Skychief V6]                                                   Tropicorp Racing Supply                      24
16 82 ▍LMN Kinu Luminna                                  Preston Autos [Preston Autos Skychief V6]                                                    Brimstone                                    22
17  1 ▍FAE Brendan Faloe                                 Cygnus [Sturmburgher PD02/25]                                                                Brimstone                                    21
18 14 ▍VIA Skiia Vialiv                                  HMG Grand Prix [Preston Autos Skychief V6]                                                   Tropicorp Racing Supply                      18
19 23 ▍C23 Cocoabo #23                                   Race Eelandii VTGP [Tropicorp TRE-2T24V8]                                                    Tropicorp Racing Supply                      15
20 96 ▍ARC William Archer                                Viska [Viska RG Motors]                                                                      Phoenician-In Motion                         11
21 95 ▍BZW Hanna Berezowska                              TACH GPC [Franklin WGP-X2]                                                                   Brimstone                                    8
22 85 ▍STO Olivia Stone                                  Cygnus [Sturmburgher PD02/25]                                                                Brimstone                                    6
22 91 ▍KAL Naveen Kalkar                                 WGPC Motorworks [Franklin WGP-X2]                                                            Blue Sulphurate                              6
24 58 ▍KAM Shuhei Kamado                                 KISMO [Kissan Motors KS.APEX-01]                                                             Solymok                                      4
24 30 ▍MAR Otto Markul                                   WGPC Motorworks [Franklin WGP-X2]                                                            Blue Sulphurate                              4
26  9 ▍BAT Batu Tüvshinbayar                             KISMO [Kissan Motors KS.APEX-01]                                                             Solymok                                      3
27 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                      140
  2 NIM ▍Nexus Racing [Nexus Racing Paragon Warp]                                                     Phoenician-In Motion                         108
  3 DOU ▍Piers Ivchenko [UrGa Zh-S-1000]                                                              Brimstone                                    101
  4 TMB ▍Pressley Racing [Tropicorp TRE-2T24V8]                                                       Tropicorp Racing Supply                      91
  5 ANM ▍KISMO [Kissan Motors KS.APEX-01]                                                             Solymok                                      53

  6 PDN ▍Urotovsky-Gatutin [UrGa Zh-S-1000]                                                           Solymok                                      51
  7 AUR ▍Viska [Viska RG Motors]                                                                      Phoenician-In Motion                         50
  8 HVZ ▍Preston Autos [Preston Autos Skychief V6]                                                    Brimstone                                    48
  9 DCS ▍Pryfors Bilar [Pryfors Bilar]                                                                Phoenician-In Motion                         44
 10 HÜL ▍HMG Grand Prix [Preston Autos Skychief V6]                                                   Tropicorp Racing Supply                      42
 11 V&T ▍Race Eelandii VTGP [Tropicorp TRE-2T24V8]                                                    Tropicorp Racing Supply                      40
 12 ESM ▍Cygnus [Sturmburgher PD02/25]                                                                Brimstone                                    27
 13 WGP ▍WGPC Motorworks [Franklin WGP-X2]                                                            Blue Sulphurate                              13
 14 HDR ▍TACH GPC [Franklin WGP-X2]                                                                   Brimstone                                    8
 15 LIS ▍Eminent [Sidus 616W-1]                                                                       Blue Sulphurate                              0

[Recuecn]

Whenever Vincent saw Nepö (which thanks to her efforts, was as little as possible), she had a cutting remark or snide comment for him. She had gone so far as to toss jibes at him over the team radio during a race. Vincent was reaching the end of his tether.

No one at UrGa seemed to care. It bugged Vincent that no one was doing anything about it, but of course no one dared to interfere. When the rest of the crew saw sparks starting to fly (in a bad way) at the motorhome after the Grand Prix d’Ile Saint-Joseph, they cleared out to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

Nepö smirked at Vincent. She had passed him during the race, despite the narrow streets of Ile Saint-Joseph, and finished in the points, while he had languished, mid-pack.

“How’s the hand?” she taunted.

Vincent mimed a cranking motion and unfurled a middle finger. “Still works just fine,” he spat back.

“Mad, Vincent?” Nepö wasn’t letting it go. “Mad you lost to a girl, again?”

The room was empty by this point. It was just the two of them in the empty briefing room. Vincent stomped over to Nepö and loomed over her, staring down into her face, but she was impossible to intimidate, not to mention she was a long way yet from running out of barbs.

“Or are you just mad you can’t get in my pants?” she jeered, staring up at him defiantly.

“Is this fun for you?” Vincent shot back. “You don’t need a man cause you get off on your childish insults?” Vincent was seething, and for a moment Nepö thought he was going to shove her away from himself. But he took a step back and ran a hand through his bright red hair. “I don’t need your drama, bitch. I’m done with this.” He turned toward the doorway.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Nepö, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back to face her again. “You don’t get to blame this ‘drama’ on me. You started this. In case you forgot, you’re the manipulative asshole with the coal-black heart.”

“I know it rubs you the wrong way that I’ve got Adonis’ looks and Croesus’ wealth,” said Vincent. “But just because you can’t stand me doesn’t mean I’m some evil mastermind plotting your demise. It’s not that deep.”

“You use women like objects and then you toss them away,” said Nepö. “But I’m not some besom you can walk all over.”

“Well I’m glad you can stand up for yourself and ruin everything,” said Vincent. “This could have been a fun thing. A cheeky WGPC fling. Haha. Laughs. Good times. But you’d just rather we both be miserable.”

“Me!? You’re still blaming this on me? Who’s the one putting stickers on his car, huh? Who’s the instigator?”

“Well you’ll be happy to know I’m going to go rip that sticker off right now,” said Vincent. “We’re done.”

He stalked out the door.

“You can’t break up with me!” Nepö yelled after him. “We’re not a couple!”

“Good!” Vincent called back. He stormed past Gatutin and the rest of the team, who had evacuated to the hallway outside. “Have your fucking briefing without me,” he said. “I’ll see you in Hapilopper.”

So much the better, thought Vincent, making good on his word, heading straight to the garage, and pulling the “Kincent” sticker off the back of his GPC21-2. He didn’t have time for Nepö’s distractions right now, with the end of the championship approaching, the douaniers breathing down his neck, and his own family constantly hounding him with questions that were getting harder and harder to answer. He had a plan that would be the answer to everything, of course: insurance fraud. But even that relied on a hit job that was out of his control. Vincent was glad for an excuse to jet back to Reçueçn right away and hopefully take care of some things. As for Nepö, he needed a girl who was a fun distraction, not an annoying one. With his money, it would be easy to find some Reçuecian chick who would give him what he wanted. It was time to move on and have some fun again.

Even before he had disembarked, however, Vincent realized that this visit to Reçueçn was not going to be a fun one. As soon as his private jet had touched down at the Reçueçn City airport, a customs officer boarded the plane.

That was totally normal—private jets like Vincent’s operated out of FBOs, where to avoid making VIPs wait in line at immigration, specially assigned douaniers would check their travel documents. Vincent paid a little extra to have his passport checked by an officer who would come to him aboard his jet when he arrived. That way he wouldn’t even have to step into the FBO, but could instead be immediately whisked away by his chauffeur.

Normally, it was nothing but a formality. A douanier would board the jet, give a cursory glance to Vincent and Valérie’s passports, and usher them on their way. This time, however, the customs officer gave Vincent a hard time.

He started by giving Vincent’s passport a long, hard look. Of course, the douanier had already known who was on the plane—that’s why he’d come aboard in the first place.

Vincent held out his hand for his passport, but though he closed the booklet, the douanier gave him a cold stare and tightened his grip.

“Vincent Von Visp,” he enunciated. “Do you have anything to declare?”

“Nope. I don’t even have any bags with me at all. I have everything I need, both wherever the Grand Prix takes me, and here at home.”

“Are you bringing with you currency or monetary instruments worth ten thousand guilders or more?”

“Just my credit card,” said Vincent, with a smile. He knew he had to be polite to the douaniers; bureaucracy was the one place where being rich wasn’t always enough to get preferential treatment. There was a certain breed of fonctionnaire that derived a sick pleasure from being a roadblock to people whose time was clearly much more valuable than their own.

It has to be an ego thing, thought Vincent. This guy has to prove to himself that he and I are equal in the eyes of the law, or some shit.

The douanier wasn’t done. “At any time in the past six months, have you carried more than ten thousand guilders out of the country?”

“I don’t usually track amounts as small as ten thousand guilders,” said Vincent. I can do a little posturing myself. “But I never use cash.” He was still smiling, still holding out his hand. “May I have my passport back now, officer? Or is there anything else?”

“You are aware that it is illegal to transport currency or monetary instruments in large amounts without reporting it to customs, monsieur?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m a banker, of course I’m aware.”

“Reports must be made at the time the money crosses the border, but if you are willing to cooperate with the ministry’s investigation, it is possible to file a delayed report.”

“I have nothing to report,” Vincent snapped. “Are you detaining me? Or can I go?”

The douanier held out Vincent’s passport, and Vincent snatched it back.

“Let’s go, Valérie.” He passed out of the plane and down the boarding stairs so briskly he left a gust of wind in his wake. Valérie waited for her own passport to be checked before she followed him. The douanier examined it and handed it back to her without comment.

Vincent instated himself in his penthouse at the top of Tour Visp and tried to figure out what order to deal with his problems.

His family was pestering him, unnerved by the douaniers’ investigation. It was possible that his sister was even looking at some of Capital Saône’s records, and might notice that the numbers from Visp Financier, Vincent’s subsidiary of the family conglomerate, didn’t add up quite right. Having his dealings looked into by his own family would be worse than a government investigation, Vincent realized. His family had made its fortune by hiding things from the government: it was a skill passed down from one generation to the next. But there was no way to hide things from his own family. They knew all his tricks—they’d taught them to him.

Getting the ministry off his back would get his family to ease off too, Vincent knew. But the douaniers were almost as relentless. Valérie was constantly having to come up with new creative red herrings. The latest annoyance was a summons Vincent had received that he was unable to ignore; some ministry agent was demanding a meeting this week. That would be Wednesday.

Then, of course, there was the hit on the security guard that Vincent had requested. Vincent hadn’t heard much from Yakov since Valérie had sent him the guard’s info, but Yakov had told Vincent he’d call him on Thursday to “talk about his problems.” So it sounded like that was moving forward too. Once the guard—Courbet, or whatever his name was—was out of the way, Vincent could go on with his plan to report the million guilders lost or stolen, and then the insurance would cover it. With the money returned, his family would be happy, and the statement from the insurance would satisfy the douaniers as well.

Everything, then, hinged on the hit on Courbet, the security guard and witness who’d personally seen Vincent receive the million guilders all those weeks ago. That was the one thing Vincent wanted to rush, and the one thing out of his control. Meanwhile, all the other issues came pouring after him, without waiting for him to be ready.

Vincent’s sister came to see him on Tuesday. She barged into his penthouse without announcing herself, and looked around disparagingly. “You’re lucky mom and dad don’t see what you’ve done with this place,” she said. “It could have been something really cool, and you’ve squandered it.”

“It’s literally the best view in Reçueçn City,” said Vincent. “What more do you want?”

“Some decor. This doesn’t feel like a home. This feels like a supervillain’s lair.”

“Well I happen to like glass and stainless steel.”

“Ironic that your penthouse has glass walls when none of your records are at all transparent. What happened to the million guilders you transferred to Visp Financier in February?”

“None of your business, it’s my money.”

“As a stakeholder in Capital Saône, your parent company, it very literally is my business.”

“Well then you can see the reports at the end of the year, the same time as the MDI.”

“It would be nice to know ahead of time what it is you’ve done that has the MDI dancing around like a kindergartener that needs to piss. Might be easier to answer their questions once they get off their ass and come after us, if we actually know what’s going on.”

Vincent had a feeling that the Ministère des Douanes et Impôts had already gotten off its ass—in fact he had a distinct sense that it was already coming for him. He kept that to himself. “Well it’s just a million guilders. Hardly anything in the grand scheme of things, and certainly not important enough for me to remember a silly little transaction from all the way back in February. If it comes to me, I’ll let you know what it was.”

“Valérie could look it up for you.”

“She’s… busy,” said Vincent.

His sister raised an eyebrow. “We’re all busy.”

“An excellent point. In fact, I have places to be.” Vincent hit the button for the elevator, and the doors opened right away. He stepped in. “Don’t leave your grubby fingerprints on the glass,” he said. “You’ll ruin my view, and the douaniers might think you were helping me.”

“I have no intention of helping you,” his sister said.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t think you did,” said Vincent. “Only nice families help each other.”

Vincent had nowhere particular to be that evening, other than “away from his sister.” But having escaped from the penthouse, he figured he might as well spend the night on the town. He headed out in his convertible, and it was not long before he had some cute blonde in the passenger seat. Vincent could wine and dine the way no one else could, and he managed to keep his mind off his problems until the girl left his penthouse early the next morning.

The next day was Wednesday. Valérie, coming in as soon as the blonde had left, reminded Vincent that he had the meeting with the agent from the MDI scheduled for later that day.

“Reserve a conference room downstairs,” said Vincent. “I don’t want that bastard setting foot in here.”

“That bastard” turned out to be Benetto Conti, the same agent who’d met with Vincent twice before.

“I’m the agent in charge of your investigation,” Conti explained, “and I know you may not like that, but I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Vincent. “You’re a thorn in my side.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, like a recalcitrant schoolboy in the principal’s office. “What’s this meeting about anyway? I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Agent Conti sat tall, prim and proper, his hands folded on the conference table. “I wanted to meet with you here, in your own bank, so you could trust that everything we say is entirely confidential.” He pulled out his phone and turning it all the way off, laid it down on the table. Then he pulled open his blazer to show the pockets were empty, and standing, turned out his pants pockets as well. He patted himself down to prove his pockets were empty, looking for all the world as if he’d just forgotten his wallet. “You see,” he said, “I have no recording devices on me. You can search me if you like.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Vincent. “What’s your point?”

“The Ministère des Douanes et Impôts has evidence that you have made payments to various actors in Pridnestrovia. We’re also aware that a Pridnestrovian firm, connected to your contacts there, has been smuggling shipments into Reçueçn City. With the information we have, the ministry can have an arrest warrant out for you by the end of the week.”

“Shipments? What shipments?” Vincent’s confusion seemed genuine.

“Monsieur Von Visp, don’t play dumb with me,” said Conti. “I asked you this before, but I’m giving you one last chance. I have reason to believe you are being blackmailed by someone in Pridnestrovia—that’s the reason for the extra discretion today. My superiors wouldn’t want me to show our cards like this, but we’re not quite sure yet what the Pridnestrovians have been sending to Reçueçn on their cargo planes, although we believe it may be military equipment. If so, this investigation goes from being a financial matter, to one of national security. If you are being blackmailed by someone at UrGa, we need you to cooperate with us now and tell us everything you know. The government can assure your safety as long as you come clean.”

“I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” said Vincent. “I don’t know anything about shipments from Pridnestrovia, and I’ve never met with a Pridnestrovian in Reçueçn. It’s news to me there’s any of ‘em this side of the Danube. I drive for UrGa, sure, and I have dealings with them, but only in Myrilsk or wherever the WGPC is on a given weekend. You’ve actually got the wrong guy.”

“I want to help you, Monsieur Von Visp, but I need your cooperation to do that,” said Conti.

Vincent threw up his hands. “Enough with the condescension! I’m not lying to you! Whatever kind of contraband ring you’ve discovered, I have nothing to do with it!”

“If that’s all you have to say to me, I won’t waste any more of your time,” said the douanier. “I will just remind you that without evidence you are acting under coercion, the ministry will be forced to consider your actions as intentional and premeditated. No matter how much I personally may believe in your innocence, my hunches won’t stand up in court without proof, and only you can supply that.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Conti rose to leave. “As I mentioned, you can expect a warrant for your arrest by the end of the week. If this isn’t a safe place for you to talk to me, I understand that and will hope to hear from you by whatever means of communication you can arrange before then.”

“I said fuck off.”

“If you are arrested and placed under government custody, rest easy your safety will be assured. But if you attempt to flee abroad, I’d imagine any judge would find that to indicate you do not feel threatened by the Pridnestrovians and are in fact cooperating with them.”

Vincent hurled a dry-erase marker at Conti’s head and the agent ducked out of the conference room, shutting the door behind him just in time.

“I’ll be in Hapilopper this weekend!” Vincent yelled after him. “That’s not a secret, and it has nothing to do with your conspiracies!”

Vincent wasn’t sure how to feel. On one hand, whatever the douanier thought he’d found was deeply worrying. Being charged with smuggling weapons seemed a lot worse to Vincent than getting caught doing a little light bribery and money laundering. Who hadn’t dipped their hand into the till? But as Conti had said, illegally dealing arms from a foreign nation could be a matter of national security, and that might involve other government agencies that wouldn’t play as nice as the Ministère des Douanes et Impôts.

On the other hand, Vincent hadn’t been lying when he’d said he didn’t know what Conti was talking about. He was genuinely innocent, entirely uninvolved with whatever these Pridnestrovians were planning with their clandestine flights into Reçueçn. That felt good, and Vincent almost couldn’t wait to get to court. It was going to feel fantastic to rub his innocence in Conti’s face. That bastard.

Anyway, the next day Vincent had his scheduled phone call to talk to his Pridnestrovian handler about organizing the assassination of a Reçuecian citizen. The irony was entirely lost on him.

Yakov called Vincent at the scheduled time, Thursday afternoon, but the financial advisor was much less willing to talk about details over the phone than the billionaire. He kept using vague codewords without explaining himself, although Vincent thought everything seemed pretty clear, in context.

“I really need this guy taken care of ASAP,” said Vincent. “As soon as he’s gone, I can get some of these people off my back, and then I can resume your payments. I know we both want that, so the sooner you can help me out with this guy, the better.”

“Don’t fear, Monsieur Von Visp,” said Yakov. “Both of your problems will be solved this Friday.”

“You mean tomorrow?” Vincent asked eagerly, but Yurievsky had already hung up.

With that, Vincent left for Hapilopper. Qualifying was the next morning, and Vincent intended to be in and out as quick as possible. Again he was given a little trouble by Reçuecian customs, but he swore up and down he’d be back in the country the next day, and they let him go.

He loved the atmosphere in Hapilopper City. The way the metropolis came alive for the Grand Prix was exceptional—millions of people, all deeply enthusiastic. The energy was electric. Vincent found he was happy to come back to UrGa and focus on racing, letting all his other problems disappear out of sight (and out of mind). The way he could hear the roar of the crowd as he flew through Chicken Bone Alley, louder even than the sound of the ZhS-1000, fed his ego and renewed his energy. He pumped a fist in the air as he braked for the corner.

In the end he was only half a second behind pole position—but on this WGPC grid, half a second was a world apart. He was mid-pack, again, and Nepö was P3, but Vincent managed to avoid her and her gloating. He left as soon as qualifying was over. He’d be back Sunday for the race, but in the meantime, he wanted to be back in Reçueçn to see how Yakov planned to “solve his problems.” Today was the day, after all.

It was late Friday afternoon by the time Vincent got back to La Tour Visp. Valérie had told him that Courbet—the unfortunate security guard—was actually one of his own employees now, and was stationed at the bank downstairs, in the first-floor lobby. Vincent decided to go down and see if anything was going to happen. He knew Yakov had something in mind, and he wanted to witness whatever it was with his own eyes. Yakov probably figured Vincent would still be in Hapilopper, since after all, qualifying had just ended a few hours earlier. But Vincent didn’t think Yakov would mind if Vincent was there to supervise while Yakov’s people took care of his problem for him.

Vincent was unaware of the forces converging on the bank lobby at La Tour Visp that afternoon. When his jet had touched down at the Reçueçn City airport, the customs officer who’d checked his passport hadn’t given him any trouble. But as soon as Vincent was gone, the agent made a call to headquarters.

“I couldn’t detain him,” he told Conti, who took the call, “since there’s no warrant yet. But he’s back in the country, and I’d move fast. I know he’s supposed to be at a race the day after tomorrow.”

Conti moved very fast indeed. The paperwork was all ready. Within forty-five minutes he’d been to see a judge, and warrant in hand, was speeding toward La Tour Visp with three other agents, driving two SUVs with the Ministère des Douanes et Impôts seal painted on the side. The strange thing about working for the MDI was that most of the agency’s job was paperwork, but sometimes, as the nation’s border patrol, the douaniers carried weapons.

In this particular instance, all four officers were armed.

The first floor lobby at La Tour Visp was busier than usual. Some tourists snapped photos out front—after all, it was the tallest building in the city. Inside, a couple was having a conversation with a loan officer, and another man was talking to a bank employee about opening a checking account. There were a couple tellers working, each with a short queue of patrons that moved briskly along. In the entrance, a group of six individuals all dressed in suits was coming into the bank. And in the corner stood Nicolas Courbet, armed with his rifle, keeping an eye on the whole scene.

Vincent had told Valérie to stay up in the penthouse, and went down to the lobby. He took a seat in one of the leather armchairs in an alcove opposite from the security guard, and tried to watch him without being too conspicuous.

As Vincent scanned the room, he noticed the group wearing suits. They blended in, but Vincent was an intelligent man, and he was expecting “Yakov’s people.” Most of the bank patrons came and went, but this group didn’t seem to have any business. Vincent noticed the glances they gave each other when they saw him. And he noticed when one of them with short blonde hair approached Courbet.

Yes, thought Vincent. This is your moment! Pull out a gun and shoot him, then make it look like a bank robbery!

Vincent didn’t notice as the two vehicles from the MDI parked across the street. He was too distracted, watching excitedly as the man with the short blonde hair pulled back his fist and punched Nicolas Courbet in the face.

[Trans-Dniesters]

Gavrina Kumilyova walked into the lobby of Visp Financier, located on the ground floor of la Tour Visp, the tallest skyscraper in all of Recuecn City. This was the first time since arriving in Recuecn that Kumilyova had been anywhere outside the cargo terminal of the airport, at least when one didn't count the handful of times that she and the rest of Company Alfa had scouted out the locations that they were supposed to hit on behalf of the Pridnestrovian government. The interior of Visp Financier looked exactly like the pictures that the KGB officer assigned to compile a dossier on the bank had attached to the file, which was a bit of a surprise for Kumilyova. Usually there were a few things here and there that didn't line up with the intelligence that had been gathered even just a few weeks ago. But Visp Financier looked exactly like what the KGB officer said it would, and Gavrina knew that it had been worth their time building a crude mockup of the bank's interior and training their next moves inside the hangar while waiting for the right time to strike.

Kumilyova had ditched the work clothes that she and the rest of Company Alfa had worn while they were playing the part of Gavanavia cargo technicians and loadmasters. Gavrina Kumilyova was now wearing a black pantsuit with wide-set gray pinstripes, a look that made her blend in with most of the other bankers and clients inside Visp Financier. The only things that made Kumilyova stand out from the rest were the black leather gloves covering her hands. The gloves were there to prevent any of her fingerprints ending up somewhere they didn't need to be. She was also not carrying anything, a stark contrast to the other woman who had purses and bags on their arms or in their hands. Gavrina knew she didn't have to carry a bag with her today. Everything she needed was already inside the building.

A few moments after Kumilyova had gone in, it was Vyacheslav Klimov's turn to enter Visp Financier. Like Kumilyova, Klimov was wearing business attire to blend in with the customers and staff; he was wearing a light gray suit with a matching gray vest, a white shirt, and a powder blue necktie. He was also wearing gloves, like every other member of Company Alfa inside the bank to carry out the heist. Klimov took off his sunglasses and put them in his suit jacket before taking a look at the people inside Visp Financier. He saw Gavrina Kumilyova a few steps to his right, but Klimov showed no indication that he actually noticed her. Two other members of Company Alfa, Ravil Yanenko and Arya Nukova, also in business attire, were already in the bank before even Kumilyova and Klimov had entered, but once again Vyacheslav showed no external signs that he had seen and recognized the other Company Alfa members at the moment.

There were a lot of people inside the bank, probably because it was a Friday and most of them wanted to get their business done before the banks closed for the weekend. It was both a good thing and a bad thing for Company Alfa. It was a good thing because more people meant that it would be harder for anyone to identify them due to the confusion that was about to come. It was a bad thing because now there were more people that they had to control, more chances that someone might try to be a hero and fight back. Company Alfa had prepared for all eventualities, but obviously they would have preferred it if everything went off without a hitch. Still, the time looked right for them to finally carry out their mission. The man who was going to own Capital Saône, or at least a part of it, was supposed to be off to Hapilopper to throw himself around in circles at over three hundred kilometers an hour. Company Alfa's orders had been adamant that Vincent Von Visp should not be anywhere near their targets before they commenced their operation.

Gavrina Kumilyova walked through the lobby of Visp Financier, occasionally taking a look around to take note of where the security personnel were located. Obviously, there were men standing at the doors, but there were also a couple of guards patrolling inside the lobby, and one on either side of the teller counters. Notably though, nobody was armed with anything bigger than a pistol or a taser except for one guard holding a rifle standing in the middle of the floor. It wasn't always the case that only one guard was armed with heavy firepower when it came to banks, at least in Gavrina's experience. Usually there were at least three or more guards with a shotgun or an assault rifle to deter or counter exactly what Company Alfa had in mind for today. One guard with a rifle was a problem, but it was an easy one to deal with nonetheless. Slava should be able to take care of him, at least, Kumilyova thought to herself.

Kumilyova scanned the place one more time, and then she headed for the bathrooms. It wasn't because she needed to answer the call of nature; everyone had already taken care of that before they had even walked into Visp Financier. It was because everything that Company Alfa needed to pull off the heist was inside those bathrooms. Arya Nukova had already made her way to the bathrooms before Kumilyova did, and when she got there she saw that the ladies' room had been closed for cleaning. Undeterred, Nukova knocked on the door five times, and it unlocked. Nukova and Kumilyova looked around to make sure no one else was around (save for Klimov and Yanenko doing the same thing over in the men's bathroom), and then they went inside.

There was another person, a man, inside the ladies' bathroom wearing blue overalls and yellow rubber gloves and standing next to a cart of cleaning supplies. "What the hell took you so long?" he asked. "Four women already tried to get in here, and the next one would have probably asked if it always took so long to clean the bathrooms at this time of day!"

"Don't be in such a hurry, Nikolayevich," Kumilyova told him. "That's how you dropped the guns and almost got us in trouble last week. Besides, we had to check the place out one more time, make sure that the intel the insurance agent gave us was correct."

Boris Nikolayevich Sorbariyev sighed and shook his head. He was never ever going to live down his reputation of being one of the clumsiest Spetsnaz operators in all of Pridnestrovia. "Everything's in there," he said, pointing at the cart. Nukova opened the cart to reveal, alongside actual cleaning supplies, three black backpacks inside. Technically speaking, these were "tactical assault packs," but in reality they were just ordinary backpacks with a ballistic plate inserted in the back to provide additional protection to the wearer. Arya handed out the packs to Kumilyova and Sorbariyev, and then she brought out the real firepower: three Model 733 carbines made in Abanhfleft. The carbines were nothing like the Kalashnikov rifles that Company Alfa had used for most of its existence, but part of the job required proficiency in the arms of different nations where they could end up operating, and the AR pattern was the most common one in the multiverse outside of AKs. Personally speaking, Gavrina Kumilyova also liked the Model 733. It was lighter than even an AKS-74u and just as reliable if not even more so. She couldn't speak for the rest of her comrades, but her fondness for the Model 733 had given her the idea to use said rifles to add another layer of confusion to the inevitable investigation of the coming incident.

The last thing to come out of Sorbariyev's cleaning cart were two vests modified to carry as many 30-round magazines as they possibly could. The vests themselves were made of a couple of thin layers of Kevlar sandwiching one layer of carbon fiber. It wasn't the most flexible material but it was enough to protect against most pistol calibers. The hope was that nobody would need the vests or use up all the ammo that they were carrying, but it was better to be prepared for all eventualities. Kumilyova and Nukova took off their suit jackets to put on the vests, while Sorbariyev stripped out of his janitor's overalls to reveal that he was also wearing a suit underneath, complete with his own vest and ammo. Once both women had got their jackets back over their vests, all three put their Model 733s into the assault packs, but instead of putting the packs on their backs, they carried the packs like they were duffel bags.

“You girls go on ahead,” Sorbariyev said to the two women. “It wouldn’t look good for a guy to come out of the ladies’ room now, would it?”

"Coward," Nukova teased Sorbariyev before she and Kumilyova peeked out of the door of the ladies' room to take a quick look at the hallway. Once they had made sure the coast was clear, the two women went out back into the bank. Sorbariyev stayed back for a few more moments, peeking out of the door to see if anyone else was passing through. He watched as two of Company Alfa's men walked out of the men's bathroom across the hallway, and then another minute passed before the final man, Vyacheslav Klimov, went out of the restrooms, and Sorbariyev followed him out. Klimov looked both surprised and disappointed that Sorbariyev had come out of the ladies' room. "Do I even want to ask why?" Klimov muttered.

"I lost a coin toss to Ivanovich, I swear," Sorbariyev replied.

"I knew it," Klimov said while shaking his head. "Well, you know where to go. You know what to do. You know what the signal will be."

"Copy," Sorbariyev nodded, and then the two went their separate ways.

Vyacheslav Klimov walked back into the lobby of Visp Financier and looked around. The signal for Company Alfa to start the heist was when Klimov attacked a guard, any guard. Klimov himself was not picky when it came to who he was going to attack, but he did want to take on someone who was isolated from the rest of his cohorts, and he saw one who fit his criteria exactly. There was a guard standing in the middle of the lobby watching over the queues for the tellers. He was standing a good distance away from the other guards flanking the counters, and by the time they tried to respond to the first attack, the others should be taking care of them as well.

Klimov moved closer to the guard, trying to get a feel for what he could do. The guard that he had singled out was armed with a rifle, which meant that taking care of him was a priority. And if Vyacheslav timed his moves right, neither the guard nor his rifle would even be a factor in what was to come next. Klimov really needed to take care of this guard because he looked like someone who had just come from the military and therefore would be familiar with how to use the rifle in his hands. The Recuecian military had not seen a lot of action in recent times, but Klimov was not going to tread lightly around this guy just because he may or may not have the same experience that Slava did. The nameplate on the guard's chest read COURBET, and the name was surprisingly familiar to Klimov, though he didn't know how or why. Vyacheslav mentally shook his head. Now was not the time to get distracted by little things like that, not when they were so close to the objective.

Klimov dropped his backpack next to the guard, who turned at the sudden noise. The Pridnestrovian Spetsnaz operator cocked back his gloved right fist and then sent it straight into the guard's jaw. The guard collapsed to the floor, dazed and stunned. Someone screamed as soon as Klimov had punched the guard, and the daily routine in the bank was disrupted almost immediately. Even as Klimov was tying up the dazed guard with zip ties, the rest of Company Alfa (their faces now obscured by black balaclavas) were already moving in to deal with the other guards. The "two Borises" (Boris Ivanovich Nukorev and Boris Nikolayevich Sorbariyev) took care of the two guards flanking the teller counters, while the rest had brought out their Model 733 carbines and were yelling at the rest of the guards to put down their weapons and lay down on the ground as well as for the customers and staff to gather in the middle of the floor. Once Klimov was finished tying up the guard he had punched, he pulled on his own balaclava and drew his Model 733 out of his pack and brandished it at the civilians to get them to comply with his commands. "Get down!" he shouted in English. "Stay down! Don't move!"

Across the lobby, Ravil Yanenko was shouting similar things. "Restez à terre!" he said. "Ne bougez pas! Nous ne voulons faire de mal à personne!" He knew that he was supposed to say more, but he had been unable to learn more than those phrases before it was time to strike. "Nous ne voulons faire de mal à personne!"

Arya Nukova could see that her comrade was struggling with his task so she decided to take the initiative and do what Yanenko was supposed to do. She tapped his shoulder and nodded, and Yanenko nodded back. Once that was done, Nukova jumped on top of the teller counters and took over shouting duties. "We want to hurt no one!" she shouted in clear French with only a slight accent that was not easily definable. "We're here for the bank's money, not your money! Your money is insured by the Recuecian government. You won't lose a single guilder!" She waved her Model 733 around to keep everyone else's heads down. "Don't try to be a hero. Don’t even think about it. Think about your families, think about your future, think about tomorrow. Don't waste it all by trying to be a hero. Just don't do it!"

“Everyone down on the ground!” Klimov shouted in English. “I want to see your hands on your heads! If you feel sick or if you have heart problems, take a deep breath and lean against the wall. Listen to me and my friends! We want to hurt no one! We only want the bank’s money!”

Nukova then walked over to a nervous and jumpy man in his early forties whom the team had identified as the manager of the site. "Where is the key to the vault?" she asked the manager, still in French. "Quoi?" the man asked, and Nukova gave the manager a vicious backhand with her left hand strong enough to knock the glasses off of his face.

"I ask the questions here!" Arya shouted. She then reached for the silver chain hanging around the manager's neck and yanked it out. "There you are," Arya muttered. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" she asked the manager, and then Nukova dragged the poor fellow towards the vault door. Ravil Yanenko was already there with the assistant manager, a woman in her early thirties who was crying so profusely that it had ruined her makeup. "Don't try to put in the wrong code, please," Nukova said. "We already know you've activated the alarm as soon as our friend punched one of your guards. The faster we get what we want, the better chances that you will all make it out of here alive. We have no intention of fighting against your TIGRE units." TIGRE was a special Recuecian gendarme unit that dealt in "special situations" such as what Company Alfa was doing right now.

The manager and his assistant complied with Nukova's orders. They entered their respective passcodes which, judging by the green lights on the panels, were the correct codes. Nukova and Yanenko then shoved aside the two managers and took their places next to the keyholes where the bank managers had already inserted their security keys. Ravil and Arya looked at one another, nodded, and then they turned their respective keys at the same time. A buzzer sounded, and the door to the vault of Visp Financier slowly swung open. Ravil Yanenko, like the rest of Company Alfa, had been briefed on what to expect once they opened the vault, but he was still astounded by the piles of Recuecian guilders wrapped in plastic and stacked like crates on top of each other. Yanenko couldn't help but let out a whistle of appreciation upon seeing the stacks of money.

Nukova grabbed the bank manager and his assistant and brought them back to the lobby with the rest of the captives, and then she called out to Klimov and Sorbariyev in English. "Chester, Barry, you're up!"

Vyacheslav Klimov ("Chester") and Boris Sorbariyev ("Barry") had already collected the tactical packs from the rest of Company Alfa, and once Nukova had called out to them, they made their way to the vault. Yanenko had already cut open one of the stacks of guilders and divided it up into smaller amounts. The movies had given most people the impression that it would be easy to carry around large stacks of paper money, but that was only because those movies used stacks of regular paper as props. Actual paper money was much heavier than that, with the standard appearing to be one banknote weighing exactly one gram. Thus it was actually difficult to carry around large sums, but depending on the denomination one could still get away with a decent amount.

Company Alfa had already made the calculations on who would carry how much during the heist. Based on their respective body weights, the women would carry 21.5 kilograms and the men 33 kilos. It didn't sound like much, but they could still walk away with millions of guilders, potentially enough to create a noticeable hole in Capital Saône's books. Not that the money itself was the objective; Company Alfa was only supposed to be the distraction while Zimmer carried out the actual heist at the Societe Credit Recuecienne. But part of Company Alfa's orders was to take away as much as they could, which was why in addition to their tactical packs, Company Alfa would use the cleaning carts that they had used to smuggle in their weapons to carry more money out.

Ravil Yanenko had already divided up the stacks into the appropriate amounts; the only thing left to do was to put the money in the packs and they were good to go. Sure, they ran the risk of getting at least a couple of stacks that were booby-trapped with dye packs to make the guilders practically impossible to spend, but Company Alfa didn't plan to spend the money anyway. Yanenko left the vault while Klimov and Sorbariyev stuffed their packs with cash. Meanwhile, Boris Nukorev had brought out the cleaning carts from the restrooms to get them ready for the second phase of the heist. As he dragged the carts toward the vault, Klimov tossed him one of the 33-kilo packs, and then he gave Kumilyova and Nukova their own packs.

"Seven minutes!" Kumilyova shouted, noting the time that had elapsed since Klimov punched the guard to start the heist. Company Alfa had a strict timetable; they needed to be out of la Tour Visp just as the first police units responded to the alarms that they knew would have been tripped as soon as they started in order to create an opening for Zimmer at the Societe Credit Recuecienne. It was vital that they didn't get barricaded inside the bank by the police because actually escaping was just as important as drawing a larger response from the authorities to keep them away from the SCR.

Yanenko and Nukorev were less careful when it came to throwing stacks of guilders into the cleaning carts. Time was now of the essence, and with the carts they could definitely carry off much more money than with just their packs. Meanwhile, while her men were busy loading as much cash as they could into the carts, Gavrina Kumilyova made her way towards the guard that Klimov had clobbered to start off the heist. Klimov noticed what she was doing and confronted her. "Carrie, what are you doing?" Klimov asked Kumilyova in English, calling her by their pre-arranged code names. "No casualties, no hostages. We all agreed on that."

"The composer said there was a bonus in store for us if we brought him in, Chester," Kumilyova replied. "All of us."

"There's not enough time!" Klimov insisted. "Another body is just going to slow us down."

"Not when we've got the van," Kumilyova said.

Before either one of them could do anything though, Yanenko appeared back in the lobby, pushing one of the two carts now weighted down with money. "Ten minutes! We're cutting it close!" he said.

"Not enough time," Klimov repeated through gritted teeth.

"Take another guy, make it look random," Kumilyova ordered, and then she picked up the guard with the nametag COURBET via the zip tie around his wrists and hauled him towards the back with the cleaning carts filled with money.

"Fuck!" Klimov cried out, making sure to use an English expletive to maintain their cover. He looked around and saw a man with bright red hair leaning against the wall. "Get up!" Klimov shouted at him, pointing his Model 733 at the man for added effect. The man didn't seem to be too afraid even as Klimov picked him up by the collar. "Don't say anything, just keep walking," Klimov ordered as he jabbed the barrel of his carbine into the man's back.

The first police cars should be responding to the heist at la Tour Visp anytime now. They should be; there had been enough time for the locals to set up a barricade or something, but the lack of sirens was slightly unnerving for Vyacheslav Klimov. His many years of experience in combat had taught him to take a closer look at the surroundings whenever he felt the slightest bit of unease, especially when everything else leading up to that moment had gone smoothly. The heist itself had gone almost exactly according to plan, and the only deviation had been Gavrina Kumilyova deciding to take a hostage and forcing Klimov's group to do the same.

The second stage of the heist, the getaway, required Company Alfa to split up into two groups. One, led by Kumilyova, would go out the back and escape using the van that Nukorev and Sorbariyev had used to smuggle their equipment into the bank in the first place. The second group, led by Klimov, would get into a car parked next to the bank and get away from the scene that way. But unlike other heists, they actually wanted to encounter the authorities because they needed to attract as much attention as possible to themselves. That way, the Zimmer operators would have a clearer path in and out of the Societe Credit Recuecienne.

Boris Sorbariyev and Arya Nukova, the two operators going out the front door with Klimov, had already removed their balaclavas and hidden their carbines underneath their suit jackets. At least they tried to hide it as much as possible, but they would have needed bigger or looser jackets to make their weapons less noticeable. Klimov tore off his own balaclava as the three of them (and the red-haired hostage) walked out of the bank. The alarms on the metal detectors at the entrance went off courtesy of the rifles and ammo that they were carrying, but because all of the guards had been forced inside, nobody could actually respond. Outside, everything appeared to be calm and normal. Nobody looked like they had even noticed that something had happened in Visp Financier, let alone a full-on heist. Everything was going according to plan.

Klimov led the hostage to a gray rental sedan parked a short distance away from the bank. He unlocked the passenger door and forced the hostage to get inside. "Get in the driver's seat! You're driving," Klimov ordered in English, pointing his carbine at the hostage to make sure he didn't do any funny business. Boris Sorbariyev followed suit, jumping into the back seat and pulling his own weapon out in preparation for the possibility that they would have to fight their way past the local police. That didn't look like it was likely, but it was better to be prepared than not.

Arya Nukova was the last person to get in the car. At least, she was supposed to be the last one in the car, but as she was scanning the street for any signs of trouble, she noticed a couple of men walking at a brisk pace across the road from her. Another look and she saw that one of the men was the man, the douanier, that had come to the Gavanavia terminal and asked for an inspection of the facilities. Nukova recognized the man almost immediately, and while she didn't know what he and his agency was doing here or why he was there, she didn't care. The plan needed Company Alfa to get the Recuecian authorities' attention, and this was as good an opportunity as any to do just that. Arya Nukova brought her Model 733 up to her shoulder and opened fire on the douaniers.

[Turori]

Questions Asked of Race Eelandii after Cocoabo #23 Hot Pass appears on eelBay

Preston Autos Hapilopper Grand Prix, Hapilopper Grand Prix Circuit, Hapilopper City, Hapilopper :: A Miserable Race Weekend for Race Eelandii VTGP may have just gotten worse as team officials are now having to answer to questions about the authenticity of a Paddock Access Hot Pass that has appeared on the online auction website eelbay shortly after the Preston Autos Hapilopper Grand Prix in Hapilopper City. The team has not yet made an official comment on the matter, but a Paddock Access Hot Pass particularly one issued to a race driver would afford its holder unique access to many other wise restricted areas of a race track during the course of a World Grand Prix Championship weekend. This would have been of particular concern during the recently completed race weekend in Hapilopper City that was marred by a string of terrorist attacks in and around Hapilopper City resulting in heightened security throughout the race weekend.

After struggling to accumulate points and without a single podium finish, there is no question that it has been a down season for 'Fast' Cocoabo and the Race Eelandii VTGP team. They were, however, having one of their stronger performances at the Hapilopper Grand Prix Circuit, remaining on the lead lap and in contention for the points before contact forced Cocoabo #23 hard into the Olivia Stone target area. Cocoabo #23 had just pitted for fresh Tropicorp rubber and set the fastest lap of the race just before the accident which would hold up to the finish for a rare point for the Cocoabo driver. Fast Cocoabo was removed gingerly from the #23 and did not make an appearance post race.

It is unclear if there will be an repercussions from the sanctioning body, team or license card registration holder Tropicorp due to the security implications regarding the loss of Paddock Hot Pass. Race Eelandii VTGP likely have limited options available to them if Cocoabo #23 is unable to access the World Grand Prix Paddock at the Forest Cross Raceway after failing to secure a dedicated reserve driver after their offer to retain former full time driver Lane Carter was rebuffed, the TJUN-ia registered driver opting to return to Urotovski-Gatutin and compete for a championship in the twii.tur Support Series.

Further complicating Race Eelandii's reserve driver situation is the fact that the twii.tur Support Series will be competing at the Cocoabo Park Circuit this week, not co-located with the World Grand Prix Championship series in Esmerel, which would eliminate the field full of World Grand Prix capable drivers, including Race Eelandii Support Series Drivers Triiki Mokalrisa Turori and Winston Klossovsky of Doubeia as potential driving options. As it stands, with the difficulty involved in getting a non-Cocoabo modified chassis up to speed and finding a capable driver to step in on short notice, Race Eelandii is likely hoping that they can quickly resolve the 'Hot Pass' saga without any further impact to their team.

Without an official statement from the team on the matter, the twii.tur-verse has been allowed free reign in imagination as to how the Hot Pass drama will unfold. One popular twii.tur poll in the revelation of the lost hot pass suggested theories as to how it could have happened:

• - The controversy is being manufactured to give Race Eelandii a way to replace Cocoabo #23 for the rest of the season ensuring iBen Toralmintii doesn't finish their final season with fewer points than a bird
• - The Hot Pass was needed to conduct illegal activity in Hapilopper City after the heightened security then conveniently lost in the fanzone to throw authorities off the tracks
• - Cocoabo #23 is really just a Cyborg and there are multiple Cocoabo's in rotation necessitating multiple badges, explaining how they could still race without it
• - Cocoabo #23 is just Chet Byrd in a Cocoabo Hoodie and he dropped the badge while changing out of his suit
• - Vincent Von Visp paid to have the Cocoabo taken out as retribution after Fast Cocoabo beat VVV's fastest lap stealing a point from the rookie, and 'Fast' Cocoabo is now being held in the sub basement of la Tour Visp.

V&T Racer will continue to attempt to get an official statement from Race Eelandii VTGP and the Cocoabo Enrichment and Enhancement Project regarding the authenticity of any of these rumors as well as the apparent legitimacy of the eelbay listed Hot Pass.

* V&T RACER publication logos and sponsorships are intended for the local audience and are not intended to presume or imply multiversal unity or acceptance. In other words, they make graphics, interpretations and sell sponsorships as they need to but that doesn't mean all the logos and sponsorships are official or recognized outside of the V&T Racer Audience

---

Preston Autos Hapilopper Grand Prix, Hapilopper Grand Prix Circuit, Hapilopper City, Hapilopper :: It was a massive day at the track for two Rookie Drivers at the Hapilopper Grand Prix Circuit as Gil Langdon took their first career Grand Prix victory from Pole Position to overtake fellow countryman Ron Sommer as the overall leader in the Toys '4' All Rookie of the Season standings. With the victory, Langdon is now the only rookie driver still in contention for the overall World Grand Prix drivers Championship with a chance to make it back-to-back World Driver Championships for Rookie Drivers after Brendan Faloe's triumph last season.

It looked from the start like it could be a massive day for the Rookie Drivers with four of them starting inside the Top 8 including three of the first four spots on the grid. In the end it was disappointment for the Urotovsky-Gatutin who are seeing their early charm slide off. Nepö Kinder struggled to reproduce her qualifying speed and fell outside the points, taking nothing from what could have been a big day at the track. That would leave Langdon to battle it out with fellow rookie and former Race Eelandii VTGP prospect Nini Johnsilvaturr for the victory with the KISMO driver pulling it out in the end. Langdon likely received a massive confidence boost during the week when the KISMO team announced they were making a driver swap, protecting Langdon and the #55 and instead replacing Langdon's rookie teammate Shuhei Kamado with reserve driver and former World Grand Prix 2 champion Batu Tüvshinbayar who had been driving for the WGPC Motorworks team.

It was still a big day for Motorworks, however, as Indusse's Naveen Kalkar stunned once again with outstanding strategy to collect their second points finish of the season, this time actually crossing the finish line in the process. The 7th place finish moves Kalkar to 7th place overall in the rookie of the season standings, though they have only managed to bypass the three drivers with points who are no longer competing with a drive the remainder of the season. Kalkar will need two more points to catch Hanna Berezowska of the now renamed TACH GPC team.

Pos # ▍DRV Name                                          Team [Engine]                          Pts

 1 55 ▍LNG Gil Langdon                                   KISMO [Kissan Motors KS.APEX-01]         49
 2 12 ▍SOM Ron Sommer                                    Viska [Viska RG Motors]                  39
 3 22 ▍JOH Nini Johnsilvaturr                            Pressley Racing [Tropicorp TRE-2T24V8]   29
 4 66 ▍VVV Vincent Von Visp                              Urotovsky-Gatutin [UrGa Zh-S-1000]       26
 5 63 ▍KIN Nepö Kinder                                   Urotovsky-Gatutin [UrGa Zh-S-1000]       25
 6 95 ▍BZW Hanna Berezowska                              TACH GPC  [Franklin WGP-X2]              8
 7 91 ▍KAL Naveen Kalkar                                 WGPC Motorworks [Franklin WGP-X2]        6
 8 58 ▍KAM Shuhei Kamado                                                                          4
 - 30 ▍MAR Otto Markul                                                                            4
10 21 ▍HAZ Nik Hazrin Lutfi                                                                       1


-- 13 ▍Pierre-Louis Archer   
-- 16 ▍Azalia Kawakai                        
-- 18 ▍Giancarlo Rahel
-- 10 ▍Ankei Souzare

V&T RACER Online ✓

@VTRacer

The Struggles Continued for @RaceEelandii in Hapilopper City while @Cruisin continued their strong season with a third consecutive podium finish displaying minimal impact from the mid-season driver change conducted at @PiersIvchenko last week. With two races left in the #WGPC21 season its Cruisin against the Field in the chase for the World Driver's Championship

#WGPC :: #HapilopperCity :: #Media

[TJUN-ia]

Race Day in Hapilopper City...and this one felt different. Batu Tüvshinbayar was still getting used to life at KISMO after his shock move materialised late in this season but now, he was tasked with two distinct jobs at the same time: scoring points (if possible) and keeping up with new teammate Gil Langdon on pole. The move to KISMO itself was seen as a promotion by many, including the friends and partners who congratulated him on the move on his phone - LCC, Gyeltshen, Lane and Donny - but in the mind of the Mongolian, his aspiration for points on the board remained unchanged despite switching black overalls for red ones. Everyone was hopeful on social media that these final three races would bring back some of the "old" Batu, the one that was consistent enough to win a WGP2 title, but Batu just wanted to focus on the task at hand.

This would be his first race in the KSH03, a machine he had only driven in simulators beforehand and a machine he had only driven on track the last two days in recent times. He was starting from P12, the points in his line of sight, with Langdon the ultimate benchmark on pole showing that the car does indeed have the pace to compete. But having that potential meant nothing if he couldn't get it done on the track. He didn't want to fall apart again, he didn't want to end up in "Oh Crap, There's A Wall" and be memed to death and he certainly didn't want to succumb to the same issues he had in his time at Motorworks. He wanted points...and he was going to fight for them.

This fighting spirit was noble, at best, but when those five lights went out and this 55-lap Grand Prix got underway, deja vu struck yet again - Batu had no fight in him. He was trying his best to be bold, to try and use the KSH03 to his advantage, but everyone was finding holes - including all three of his former Motorworks teammates. It wasn't the worst race imaginable, just ask Ælund how their weekend is going, but it was still just...shit. Like, really shit. Langdon won this race over Johnsilvaturr and Cruisin without much of a fuss, Kalkar managed points for Motorworks again and all Batu had to show for this race was managing to keep Donny behind as the flag came out. P12 to P19. Ouch.

And so, once more, old habits seem to die hard. Batu was just angry with that performance in general but when he saw Donny over in parc ferme, he at least made sure to give his...friend partner companion mate(?) a "GGs" and a handshake for the latter portions of that race. In post-race interviews, he gave a sense of what was going on in his head:
"I knew that this weekend would be a learning curve, but I didn't think the curve would be that steep. Well done to Gil, he earned that win with such conviction, but it is never a good look when one KISMO is P1 and the other is P19. It was tricky having to set up for a new car, and that may've contributed to my race, but part of the problem is also myself. I can't seem to build on my performances on Saturdays in the race, and I don't really know why I can't be respectable out there. I'm still developing, but hopefully, I will feel better about myself and where I'm at in Liventia."

That night, he contemplated this Jekyll and Hyde persona that seemed to have taken hold of his career - one where on Saturdays, he looked great, but on Sundays, he simply looked weak. He didn't quite understand why putting together two good days back-to-back was suddenly impossible for someone like him, and he hoped that having more time with the KISMO setup would help in Talbott next time around. But no matter what the issue was, he knew he had to face this alone.
Lam was fighting for the NSSCRA crown and is focused on trying to make the Final 4.
Tshering was in South Newlandia for the ECC, a tournament he is hoping to win for a 3rd time.
Lane was in the midst of an OGP title fight, 12 points off the lead with 2 races to go.
And Donny? That handshake was nice, but why did Batu want more? Why did Batu seem so desperate to break down the barriers he himself had set up?

That night, Batu felt alone. As alone as ever. He wished for some warmth from his phone or next to him in the sheets. Something to make the world OK.

[Katzeburg]

Hapilopper City Grand Prix Circuit
Hapilopper City, Hapilopper

Where the hell was Shuhei Kamado?

Gil Langdon was nervously stretching his head around the paddock as best he could from his position at the front of the pack. In what he knew to be his final race with KISMO, he had put the car on pole for a second time this season, giving him a great chance of breaking his race win duck before the brutal axe of KISMO fell on his head. He hadn’t seen his regular teammate at all this weekend so far in the Esportivan nation, but between the celebratory mess of setting his KISMO on pole and the chaos which was the explosions earlier in the weekend, Gil barely had time to think straight. He had seen Batu Tüvshinbayar around the garage a lot the last couple of days, but convinced that it was just a bit of a power move to get into the team ahead of officially taking his spot, Gil tried his best to avoid any line of sight with the incoming racer.

As the cars lined up on the grid ready for the formation lap of the Hapilopper City GP, Gil finally spotted what he thought was Kamado down around the 12th position mark, the maroon KISMO lying in wait, ready to put in a fight in the midfield. But there was something off about this KISMO, which took Gil exactly half of the following race to figure out. Kamado had changed his helmet. Gone was the helmet which caused so much strife between the two at the start of the season, with the familiar shade of purple now replaced. Another power move from Kamado? Or something different again? But Gil didn’t ponder too long on it, as he was enjoying one of the best races of his life around the Hapilopper City circuit. He flew out to an early lead and maintained the pace, only relenting the lead when he had to come into the pits before quickly restoring his significant advantage. 55 laps for number 55. 55 laps as a WGPC racer for the final time.

Gil barely broke a sweat towards the back end of the race, with a healthy lead of more than 10 seconds opening up over the trailing Nini Johnsilvaturr but to him, it wasn’t something to be happy with. Yes, it was a rare showing of dominance for KISMO which surely should bode well on Langdon as a driver, but he was a little mad he was going out in relative comfort, contrasted with the fierce battle to the finish line he had with Ron just a few rounds earlier. He would at least go out with his head held high though, and as he whipped across the finish line, Gil Langdon had claimed a bittersweet victory. He would claim a race win in his rookie season, even if it would likely be his last race for the maroon of KISMO.

Pulling into the pit lane, the KISMO team were celebrating as if they’ve just lifted the constructors championship, helping pull Gil out of his vehicle and lifting him high over the heads of the team. Gil was smiling through the moment, but behind the bright eyes and wide smile was a feeling of disappointment. That this would be the end for him. Maybe he can get a seat next season with another team, but given how tough it can be to get a spot - this might be it.

It was a more muted celebration from the Katzeburgian as he stood alone atop the podium compared with the last time he was on there - back then, he had his unlikely roommate and burgeoning friend Ron Sommer to support him in celebration and making it a huge moment for Katzeburgian motorsports. But now, he was alone, waving the black, yellow, and blue of the flag on top of the hill. Finally, after navigating through the media scrum and returning to the garage, he had finally made peace with the fact that his time as a KISMO racer was coming to an end. One hell of a send off for him at least. It would finally be this time that Gil, seeking to look up to the stars and find meaning in the universe, twisted his head upwards to see the names over the KISMO door.

And finally, it all clicked as to why he had seen Batu so much and Shuhei not at all this weekend. The swap had already been made. He was safe. He won.

Gil sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hands, muttering to himself, “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

---

While his Katzeburgian compatriot was sailing away to a comfortable win, Ron Sommer was having the afternoon from hell. Starting in eighth, Ron was an unfortunate casualty of the chaos on lap 8, as Abdoulaye Goita would drop like a stone down the race order in a horror crash. Sommer was only a few cars back in a tight chasing pack from the top three when the carnage went down, with Ron just a tad too slow to navigate the unfolding crash ahead of him. He was forced to swing out to the right to divert the buildup and avoid adding to Goita’s crash, but it was a move which caused a chain reaction of his own. Slamming into the tight walls of the Hapilopper City circuit, his Viska suffered major damage, snapping off the edge of his front wing and smacking his wheels just enough to force him into a stop.

“Ron! Are you alright?” came the voice of Esko over the headset radio as the Katzeburgian groaned in pain from the sudden stop.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m alright,” Ron said eventually. “I’ll bring it back around, but we might need an early pit.” Ron started pulling the car back off the wall slowly but surely, watching helplessly as what felt like the entire grid rocketed by in a hail of multicoloured bullets.

Esko was hesitant. “Ron, maybe you should call it in for this one - we don’t know the full extent of the damage yet.”

“Esko, please - we need to keep going. It seems like it's just a swap for the front wing from what I can see!”

“Ron… The time it takes you to get back to the pits, you’ll be well behind everyone else and there’ll be no way back for us. If we retire we can at least turn focus to the next race.”

“Not today. As long as this car is still running, then we have a shot. No matter how small. Never Give Up. Never Say Die.”

Ron would finally - and brutally to the crowds of Hapilopper City who have had to endure the purple Viska slowly crawling around the track - swing the car into the pits. The team was ready to slot in and support right away thankfully, as if there was an unspoken agreement to just let Ron crack on as best he could. Even if he wasn’t driving for a top 10 finish anymore, he could still snatch a fastest lap point which could prove useful to some degree. The crowds watching on roared as the Viska finally pulled back out of the pits and stormed into life. Ron Sommer was reborn on the track, and despite being more than a lap or two behind by his best estimates, he had nothing to do but fire down the road ahead of him.

He wouldn’t progress entirely far over the course of the race - the only racer he’d get past was Olivia Stone who was well down the order herself, but Ron put in an assured performance, regaining a fair chunk of time which had he not fallen apart at the starting stages of the race, may even have had him well on course for a top five finish. But today was not the day for that. Just getting to the end was an achievement in itself, despite being more than a lap behind, Ron felt like he had given it his all. But as he pulled back into the pit lane to see the quickly changing calculations of the drivers and constructors championships float on the screens ahead of him, his heart sank as he traced down and found his name.

At 39 points, a failure to finish in the points in Hapilopper meant that Ron now had no hopes of storming up and securing a title in his rookie season. Not that it was ever really an option, but around his Patriotlandia victory he was being mooted as a potential dark horse heading into the back half of the season. But another failure to score instead made it look like since his win he had done nothing but drop further and further down the rankings. It was an afternoon of bad news for Viska too, as despite William Archer ending in the points with his ninth placed finish, the team would be knocked out of constructors contention as well. Surprisingly, the victory for Gil had both kept him and KISMO in the hunt by some minor miracle, but as Ron retreated to the Viska cabins just off pit lane, he knew it would only be for another race at most before Gil too would be out of the running.

Ron grabbed a seat and took a deep breath in. To a point, it was almost a good thing he no longer had championship aspirations in mind, even if he never really entertained them to begin with. Just getting a drive was a trophy in itself, and his race win will mean more to him than almost anything else. But there was just something freeing about the releasing of expectations heading into the final races which was empowering to him. As he mulled over where to go from here, his phone started to buzz. Ron picked it up and answered, expecting it to be his mother with an update as to how his father was going back home in Katzeburg. But instead, he would immediately perk up when he heard the voice of Trevor Sommer.

“Hey son, how are ya doing?”

“Dad! I’m alright here, how are you? How are the doctors treating you?”

“Oh you know me, seems like it’s an awfully big fuss being made. You’d think I almost died or something.”

Ron wryly smiled. “Sounds like you’re feeling a bit better at least. Have they given any indication on when you’d be able to get out and get home for more rest?”

“Soon, I think. They were actually keen to test how I went today when watching you drive. Have to say that crash early on gave me a bit of a scare.”

Ron’s heart almost leapt into his mouth. “I know… I’m just lucky I was able to at least get it back to the pits to be honest, I thought I was done for the day.”

“Are you kidding? I am so proud of you, you showed spirit getting it back out there and then trying your best to pull it up through the ranks. You didn’t give up.”

“Neither did you, by the sounds of it.”

“It’s going to take a lot more than a severe heart attack to kill ol’ Trevor Sommer, let me tell you that, son.”

Ron chuckled. “I’m glad to be hearing your voice, dad.”

“You too, son. I better get going, the nurse is giving me side eye - imagine I don’t want to exhaust myself too far yet. Love you lots.”

“Love you too, dad.”

Click.

Ron leaned back in his chair and sniffled back a tear. Things finally seemed to be on the mend.

---

Gil Langdon was walking down the starting lane as around him, teams of Hapiloppian’s worked away at dismantling the track to allow city traffic access to resume. He was taking in the moment before he was due to head back to Aji No Moto to begin a week of furious practice and strategy to somehow keep KISMO in the mix for the constructors. It was nothing but a moonshot, but a chance is still a chance. As he looked again up into the night sky, he felt his phone buzz. Pulling his phone out he saw a single message appear on the screen from someone he wasn’t expecting to hear from any time soon. His father.

Archie Langdon was not a man of many words when it came to talking to his son, and his text message was very much along Langdon familial lines.

Watched the race today. Well done on the win.

It wasn’t anything major - hell, it could have been from someone from KISMO in terms of tone and relationship familiarity - but to Gil this simple message was the equivalent of an olive branch, a message from his father actually congratulating him on something he had achieved. Tears started to swell around Gil’s eyes as he read the text. And then read it again. And again. And again. Before finally nodding and continuing his walk down the starting lane, a huge smile sneaking across his face.

[Abanhfleft]

Operation Weatherman, the Zimmer Private Military Corporation's operation to "prove" to the people and government of Hapilopper that electric vehicles were unsafe and therefore should be banned, had gone off without a hitch. At least it had gone off without a hitch in terms of the fact that the electric cars exploded. The Hapiloppian government though now seemed even more determined to turn electric cars into a fixture of their nation, though the ongoing disinformation campaign should hopefully steer the people towards the "right" opinions regarding their government seemingly ignoring their own safety simply to prove a point. But that was another operation for another time. For the moment, Zimmer needed to get their people out of Hapilopper before the heat got too hot, so to speak. Or rather, they needed to get some of their people out. The second part of Operation Weatherman required planting a seed of doubt into the investigation that everyone knew was coming. Even before the smoke had settled over the car bombs, the majority opinion already was that the explosions were a terrorist attack. As to what kind of terrorists were responsible though, nobody knew at the moment. But Zimmer was more than willing to give up at least one of their own in order to throw up a juicy red herring for the investigation.

The driver who had detonated the car bomb in front of the presidential residence had managed to get away from the scene of the crime during the initial chaos of the explosion. But he also knew that it was only a matter of time before the authorities found him; after all, he had committed an attack against the president of Hapilopper, and he surely had layers upon layers of surveillance to make sure that nobody could get any closer than the bomber did and actually harm a hair on the president's head. Even only hours after he had detonated his bomb, the bomber assigned to detonate an electric vehicle in front of Brett Booth and make him rethink his reticence to banning electric vehicles could already feel the noose of justice closing around him.

The bomber who had been assigned to blow up an EV before Brett Booth took out his disposable phone and dialed a number. The number itself suggested that it should be a long-distance call, but the speed in which he was able to connect told him that his contact was actually much closer than he assumed. "I need to get out of here," the bomber told his contact. "Where can I find a ride?"

"I'm sorry, but the heat is just a bit too much currently," his contact replied. "We knew that this was going to be difficult as soon as we started the operation. But they've got eyes everywhere, and anyone who tries to help you or the other guy is going to get burned themselves sooner or later. The ports are not going to be an option. If you want to get out of there, you'll have to fly yourself out."

"You won't even send some help my way? Is that how you're going to treat me after everything I've done?"

"The risks are just too great. We could get exposed, and that's not what we want. That's not what our client would want. But there is still a way for you to carry out the mission even if you get caught."

"Oh, don't give me any of that patriotic bullshit! We're all just fucking mercenaries, even if your boss has friends in very high places where you come from. You can't convince me to fight my way out of this!"

"I'm not telling you to fight your way out of where you are. You need to make a good show of fighting them off while trying to get out. Don't make them think that you planned to get caught."

"So was that the plan for me all along? I'm supposed to be the guy that gets caught?"

"Your previous employer made you the perfect fit for this part of the job. The authorities think that they've got this whole thing figured out, but you're going to make them question if they're pointing the finger at the right people at all."

"What is it with you people and your need to add complications to things that should be simple? You can't just find a way to get me out of here. No, you have to make sure that it's a different company that gets the blame because you've made your game plan so damn obvious from the start!"

"You're not paid to analyze or criticize the plan! Your job is to do your part! You've done the first part well, and now it's time for you to execute the second part as well."

The bomber held his tongue just when it looked like he was going to let loose a string of expletives at his contact. As expected, being told that he was now supposed to be a sacrificial lamb in order to lead the coming investigation into the bombings down an unexpected direction did not sit well with him. Instead of shouting the curses that he wanted to throw at his contact, the bomber just muttered them under his breath before he returned to the call. "Will you be able to get me out of here after all has been said and done?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, the orchestra cannot help you out with that," the contact replied. "That's something that your home country will have to do on your behalf. You'll have to convince them that you are worth fighting for. I hope for your sake that your family has enough sob stories about you to make it worth their while to get you repatriated back to your home country."

"Asshole!" the bomber cried out, but his contact had already ended the call. The bomber threw away his phone in a mix of anger and disgust. "Go fuck yourself!" he yelled at the now shattered remains of the phone. He didn't really care that he had broken the phone; it was just a disposable one after all. But he no longer had a way to communicate with his contacts, not that they appeared to be in any mood to help him out. And they had made it clear that while they expected him to get out of Dodge himself, they also expected him to get caught and throw a curveball at the investigation. These damn Pridnestrovians, the bomber thought to himself. Always have to make things even more complicated than they should be.

The bomber decided to make his move on the day after the bombings. Security all over Hapilopper City was predictably tight after what had happened, and the authorities were on the lookout for those responsible for trying to give electric vehicles an even worse name in Hapilopper than they already had before. The bomber had made his way from his hideout to Hapilopper City Airport by foot in order to avoid a taxi driver or a bus passenger fingering him to the cops. His job now might be to get caught and put a big fat red herring in front of the investigators, but no way in hell was he going to make it easy for them.

The bomber finally arrived at the airport after walking for over two hours. He was exhausted, but at the same time he wanted to get this entire rigmarole done and over with. The bomber found himself a place in the line going into the airport, being careful not to make eye contact with anyone else in the queue. At the same time, he was careful not to look too shifty in order not to attract too much attention, if any, to himself. Eventually, it was his turn to go past security. Additional guards had been posted in and around the airport to make sure that the bombing suspects couldn't do exactly what this particular bomber was trying to do. The bomber had been able to keep his head down for most of the time while in the line, but now he had no choice but to look up. He knew it was going to be the beginning of the end for him given how much the Hapiloppian authorities had plastered his face all over the city thanks to the security cameras covering the presidential residence.

The bomber's eyes met that of the Hapiloppian cop manning the entrance to the airport, and for a brief moment time seemed to freeze. The bomber could see that the cop had recognized him, but neither man looked like they could actually do anything about it. The bomber was the first man to react; he shoved the cop out of the way and bolted for the terminal. He knew that he was going to get caught sooner or later, but the longer that he could keep running, the longer that he could be free for what little it was worth. The bomber ran his way through the crowds inside the airport with no destination in mind. He was just running for the sake of running, leading the cops on a wild goose chase for as long as he could. And with the number of cops going after him seemingly multiplying every time he looked back, it looked like he was doing exactly what he had set out to do.

The tackle felt like it came out of nowhere. The bomber had been so focused on the cops and guards behind him that he didn't pay attention to the sides. The bomber felt like he had been hit by a truck, and it might not be far from the truth. Gridiron didn't look like it was as popular in Hapilopper as soccer was, but whoever had brought down the bomber could have been in a World Bowl team with how much the latter's momentum and speed was put to an end. In fact, the tackle was strong enough to tear the bomber's backpack away from him. Passports from at least four different countries spilled out of the backpack, but nobody tried to get to it because it could also have an explosive device courtesy of his previous actions. It didn't, but the cops didn't know that, and they were taking no chances this time.

"Everyone stay away! We don't know if he has a bomb on him!" one of the policemen shouted as his fellow cops tried to set up a cordon around where the bomber had been tackled and laid out.

"Hands out wide! Hands where I can see them!" another cop shouted at the bomber, who already had his arms stretched out to his sides. "Don't do anything funny!"

"They made me do it!" the bomber shouted. "They told me to do it!”

“Shut up! No one’s asking you anything,” one of the cops who was checking the bomber for more explosive devices on his body said while he was inspecting the suspect. Once they were sure that he was not going to blow up right in front of them (mostly because the bomber didn’t actually have any bombs on him), the police finally put some cuffs on the suspect and hauled him back up to his feet.

“It was Duisdorf!” the bomber shouted even as the police dragged him away. “They made me do it! DUISDORF MADE ME DO IT!”

---

OPEN SOURCE NEWS NETWORK

@OSINTNews

HAPILOPPER CITY BOMBINGS: HCPD announces arrest of 1 of 2 bombers responsible for last week’s attempted attacks on President Brett Booth and Congressman Warren Jones. No further details released yet.


#HapilopperCityBombings : #News : #OSINT : #Arrest

OPEN SOURCE NEWS NETWORK

@OSINTNews

UPDATE: Suspect entered Hapilopper using Abanhfleft passport. Passports from other countries such as Oontaz, Saint Kanye, and TJUN-ia also found in suspect’s possession after attempting to flee country via Hapilopper City Airport.


#HapilopperCityBombings : #News : #OSINT : #Arrest : #Update

[Nico Hulkenberg]

Nepö

The incident following the Grand Prix d’Ile Saint-Joseph had well and truly severed all that remained of the ties between the two Urutovsky-Gatutin teammates. So much so, that from the Hapiloppian Grand Prix onwards, the team had elected to put up screens between the two sides of the garages to keep the two out of each other's sights and minds - truly a harmonious environment. Naturally, after a poor race from Nepö's point of view, she retired to the comfort of a back room somewhere deep within the paddock building, forgoing any and all media obligations. By this point, she really didn't care about the remainder of the season, with only two grands prix remaining. In fact, it was somewhat of a relief that she'd only have two more grands prix with such proximity to someone so repulsive. Her head was an absolute mess, and it showed - she tumbled down the order from such a promising qualifying position, slow off the line, twitchy round the corners, and conceding positions without much fight. Her season was over - really, it was all eyes on the next. With that in mind, she phoned her dad, who was probably about to plan a debrief of his own.

HMG

A brilliant fifth from Skiia Vialiv, HMG's very own woman in form, meant that finishing above tenth was not off the table. Indeed, the season had taken such a downturn that a chasing Race Eelandii VTGP team could relegate them down to eleventh, but if Vialiv kept on chugging along there was a strong chance the season could be ended on a high. All of this occurred over a strange backdrop at the team - Jöhan Turbringer, team principal from the very start, was absent. Adrian Kinder was alone at the top for this weekend (and who knows how many more), and there was nobody more delighted at Vialiv's strong finish than he was. Having celebrated with a few of the mechanics on Skiia's side of the garage, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, answering it.

"Hey dad."

"Nepö? Aren't you supposed to be doing things with your own team?"

"Probably. I won't, though. The whole vibe has shifted recently, and I think it's time I took my services to somewhere I'd be respected."

"You want to leave? Already? It feels like you're just through the door!"

"Look, I'm sure you've heard the rumours about the team. The paddock talks, after all. I'm almost certain that Baron Breastfeeler will be at UrGa until the heat death of the universe, or until his assets are confiscated, and neither of those are happening any time soon. I can't be at a team with someone like that - I won't."

"Oh, Nepö. I did warn you something like this would happen."

"Actually, you told me to 'give the boy a chance'."

"No, not like that, the favouritism. I'm sure I could fit you in at HMG, just say the word..."

"The accusations of sabotage, the relentless pursuance, the horrendous driving standards, the smarmy, uptight attitude... it's all too much to deal with. I know you were a little impressed with Vincent at the test - I remember you saying - but I need you to promise to me now that you will never, EVER, accept an offer from that beast."

"I thought you said he'd never leave UrGa?"

"I don't know what goes through that man's head, and frankly I don't ever want to. He's as impulsive as anything, he could end up showing up at the Entwicklungszentrum unannounced. I don't care. Promise to me."

"Well, between you and me, I'm working hard on negotiations to keep Skiia at the team for another season. She's been lovely to work with, extremely understanding of the car's problems, and through toughing it out and working in tandem with our engineers, things have really started to pay off."

"And Adonis?"

"The less said, the better. I can come and give you a contract in the paddock now, it would be as easy as that!"

"Won't Jöhan mind?"

"Fuck Jöhan, I'm in charge for the weekend and, as far as I'm concerned, for the foreseeable future. If you want a guaranteed seat for next season, the offer's there."

"I'll think about it."

"What do you mean you'll thi-"

The line went dead.

God fucking damnit!" Adrian shouted, resisting the urge to toss his phone at the nearest wall. "That girl doesn't know how good she's got it..."

[Doubeia]

Sharktail gave me the green light to post this.

Kokomiya sat at the side of the hospital bed, holding a helmet on her lap. Hospital visits usually filled her with a certain feeling of dread and anxiety, but oddly enough, she felt calm then.

Lying on the bed was Nik Hazrin Lutfi, peacefully sleeping. His right leg was bandaged and raised, and Kokomiya could see some discolouration on his skin. The heart rate monitor let off beeps consistently. It was good sign. He was alright. It was only when Kokomiya had reached the hospital in Kota Sultan that she even found out what had happened to Lutfi. The gist was, he had gotten into a car accident. He broke his right leg and suffered internal bleeding in some patches in his body. That alone sounded scary, but truth be told he got off lightly. The crash made national news in Sharktail, and apparently there were at least four deaths as a result. She couldn't comprehend how huge of a crash it had to be to kill that many people, and she refused to watch the crash footage. It would unlock a certain memory in her mind she had been trying to repress.

"How... how long until he's discharged?" Kokomiya asked Lutfi's assigned nurse.

"Around three weeks, ma'am," she replied. Kokomiya let out a sigh. Three weeks was far too long for a driver to be out. The end of the season was approaching, and she couldn't leave Cruisin to steer the Piers Ivchenko boat alone if they wanted to hold out for a possible World Constructors' push. She looked at Lutfi. His unconscious, limp body was a massive contrast from his usual cheery and determined displacement. It was like seeing a different side of him. Well, not that the crash changed who he was as a person.

Kokomiya sat in her thoughts for a while. She had never really sat down to think about the things that had happened the past year. In hindsight, it seemed too good to be true. She went into the year expecting a really, really long rest, but instead she was thrown into the Piers Ivchenko project at the last minute. When she considered the sparing time the team had to prepare for the season, that they were soaring as high as they were was a true testament to how well the team had done. When Kokomiya agreed to sign Cruisin and Lutfi, she wasn't expecting too much from them if she had to be frank. Thankfully, Cruisin had been proving her absolutely wrong so far. Lutfi on the other hand...

Kokomiya wasn't disappointed, per se. She was just... what was the word? Slightly more expectant? Or hopeful? That he would do well, of course. His only points came at the season opener where he stole the fastest lap just outside the points. It was admittedly frustrating to see him almost squeeze into the points, only to settle for twelfth place or something. Kokomiya couldn't fault him though. She knew he was trying hard on and off the circuit, and if it helped he was a kind soul too. She never thought that she needed to consider swapping out her drivers, but looking at who was laying in front of her... It sucked to have to let him go prematurely, but he himself asked to be switched out, and who was Kokomiya to reject her driver's reasonable request?

"Ma'am, sorry to interrupt, but your time is up..." Kokomiya understood. As she stood up to prepare to leave, she left Lutfi's racing helmet on the table. Attached to it was a small note:

Get well soon, Nik. PIM misses you!

Signed, Miya

---

Kokomiya wasn't expecting much on a Wednesday afternoon, but of course Franz Bungschen always had to make it more interesting. Or ruin it, if you will.

She was scrolling through a dating site when she heard the door slam open. No one in this damn company would dare to open her door uninvited, much less slam it. No one but Franz Bungschen, that was.

"Why did you break our promise?" he bellowed. His face was fuming, having turned beet red from all the anger he was exuding.

"What promise?" Kokomiya asked flippantly, "Close the door, by the way." Despite his rage, Franz still did as he was told. He then angrily walked to Kokomiya's table and planted his arms on it very firmly.

"The promise that you would bring in Tati if any one of your stupid drivers had to back out, stupid!" he yelled in her face. She felt some of his spit land on her face. Eugh.

"First of all, neither Cruisin nor Lutfi are stupid," she said as she pulled a tissue to wipe her face, "They both are quite bright when it comes to racing. Secondly..." Kokomiya's voice came to a stop as she returned Franz's death stare.

"When have I ever promised to promote Tati?"

Franz's expression turned surprised for a second as his spine froze and he lifted his hands from the table. Kokomiya looked at him with amusement. Did he just make up a fake scenario and got angry at it? Don't underestimate Franz to do something stupid like that. As Franz struggled to come up with a response, Kokomiya could feel the mirth in her welling up. She almost wanted to laugh. What was he trying to accomplish by doing this?

"Aha! I know now!" Franz said out of the blue.

"I'm all ears."

"Don't be facetious!" Franz quipped, "Anyway, it was when... it was when... yeah! It was when we were at that restaurant! Shit, I forgot the name though..." Kokomiya stared at Franz blankly. She couldn't believe it. Franz concocting a lie to try to implicate her of a contract which didn't exist? Not even verbally? If it were anyone else she would have blown up into a rage, but it was Franz Bungschen. She didn't know what else to expect from him than this type of shenanigans.

"Just say you're lying, Franz," Kokomiya replied with a bored lull, "You can't even remember when I verbally agreed to this?"

"I- I swear you said it! I'm not lying!" Franz said in exasperation, "Just because I forgot some of the details doesn't mean I made it up!" Kokomiya looked on as Franz tried to explain himself. To Kokomiya, replace Franz with a kindergartener and nothing would change. Actually, that was kind of concerning. As Franz cooled down from his initial bout of anger, Kokomiya took the time to explain herself.

"I already said that I didn't think Tati would be able to handle the pressures of the WGPC," she explained, "You yourself saw what your own daughter had to go through in the WGP2. The WGPC is a different beast. Do you really want to see your daughter like that again? When the stakes are much higher?" It was food for thought for Franz as he sat down to ponder over what Kokomiya had said. He didn't want to admit it, but she had a point. It hurt to see her flounder and struggle so badly then, not just results-wise but mentally as well. As much as he wanted to be there for her then, he was preoccupied with other business ventures as well. He took the time post-season to bond with her and also nudge her back into racing, and there didn't seem to be a problem. Tati seemed to be okay with it, so why was Kokomiya so worried?

"Well, Tati said she was okay with it. I don't se—"

"But what if she's only saying that to make you happy? She knows how much you love racing." Kokomiya looked at Franz with a knowing look, and if he had to be honest, she seemed a bit scarier than he would like her to be. He gulped in his saliva and regained his composure before standing up.

"It still doesn't change the fact that you went against my wishes."

"Franz, don't be preposterous now."

"You yourself know how much I want my daughter to do well. I thought you would think of promoting her to the seat instead of some... some random bum."

"Jjuko is not a bum. He has had better qualifications than Tati."

Kokomiya stood up to look at Franz eye to eye, even if she was shorter than him. She just couldn't stand him today. What was in him? He barges in disrespectfully, accuses her of doing something she didn't, and then insults her drivers? Unacceptable. His behaviour was unacceptable. Still, as much as she wanted to lash out at him, she knew better than to bite the hand that fed the team.

"You think you're so powerful just because you're the team principal? You think you can just overwrite what I want?" Franz spat disdainfully.

"Just because you're the owner doesn't mean you get to decide shit, mister rich guy. You think you know everything more than I do, hmm?" Kokomiya replied. She shot daggers at Franz as she leaned forward onto the table. She stared — no, glared — at him intently. She had the eyes of a killer. She wanted to murder Franz there and then. Do away with him, his stupid antics, his ego, so that she could do her damn thing. But she couldn't, and unlike what Franz thought of her, she wasn't heartless.

Franz's eyes, on the other hand, held an amount of annoyance that he couldn't contain. He wanted to lash out, to fire Kokomiya on the spot. He hated being challenged, especially when it was from someone like Kokomiya. Who did she think she was, trying to tell him what he should do? He owned the damn team. He had home rules! He leaned forward to match Kokomiya's expression. The gap between the two grew smaller, but the tension remained as thick.

"You're so bold, Koko. You're so annoying and bold that I can't take your ego anymore. It just makes me want to punish you." Franz said as his tone deepened. He had a devious glint in his eyes as the corners of his mouth lifted up a bit.

"Oh, you want to punish me?" Kokomiya chuckled, "Bring it on, then. Who said I hated being punished?" She reciprocated Franz's look towards her. For just a moment, both of them enjoyed the tense little moment. Something carnal was being unlocked within them. But just as quickly the moment came, just as quickly it passed. Franz's little smile turned into a teethy grin as he backed off and grabbed his bag.

"Okay, I'm pulling out of the team. See you, sucker!" he chortled as he said that. That was when Kokomiya realised she had made a lapse in her judgement.

"Wait." Franz was already headed for the door. "Wait!"

Kokomiya rushed forwards to block Franz's path. Even though she practically downgraded herself into a roadblock, Franz didn't seem to care. He continued to walk towards the door without a care in the world.

"Franz, you have to listen to me. This is a punishment I will not accept. Franz. Are you hearing me, Franz?" She was on the verge of going on her knees to beg Franz to stay with the team. She couldn't let him go. Not when they needed his investment money to keep up the team facilities. Sponsors only brought in so much money after all. Franz didn't care, however, as he raised his head high with his eyes closed and a shit-eating grin. He enjoyed hearing Kokomiya desperate. It felt nice to hear this annoying "team principal" realise that she wasn't invincible.

Kokomiya was constantly backtracking until her back hit the office door. The two stopped in their tracks.

"You're blocking the door, Koko," Franz drawled.

"And I'll continue blocking it until you promise you won't pull out of the team," she said firmly. She tried to hide her embarrassment or desperation, but the reddening of her cheeks made it obvious enough.

"'Who said I wasn't okay with being punished?' Who said that, hmm?"

"Quit it, Franz. Be serious for once!"

Kokomiya hated every second that was passing. She felt humiliated. Why did she act so cockily just now? Why didn't she stop to think about what she was going to say? Now Franz could use his words against her, and she was going to be in hot, hot water. The way he imitated her voice flipped her out too. That was by far the worst impression of her she'd heard. Kokomiya turned to finally look at Franz in the face. She briefly eyed his large, husky body, and the size difference between him and her became much more prominent now that he was backing her against a door. For once, she felt smaller than him.

"Okay, okay, I'll be serious..." Franz said to Kokomiya's relief, "... but with one caveat."

"What?" Kokomiya didn't care. She just had to make sure Franz really wasn't going to bankrupt the team.

"If that Jjoka... Jjuki... you know, that guy doesn't score in the next few races, Tati's going into the driver's seat next season. And I mean WGPC." Kokomiya looked at Franz with a worried expression. She knew Tati wasn't cut out for the job. She knew Tati wasn't cut out for racing, actually. She could never understand Franz's obsession with living his driving dreams through her. She didn't want to do this. It was a decision that not only affected Kokomiya but the team and Tati herself. Kokomiya was heavily doubting Tati was even okay with racing fulltime, but she was between a rock and a hard place. Franz was making it really difficult for her. All these threats about him pulling out of Piers Ivchenko could just be empty ones, but she never knew what cards he had in his deck.

"Fine." Kokomiya humphed. She stepped aside, giving Franz the freedom to get the fuck out of the office already. Once he stepped out, she slumped back onto a beanbag on the floor. She was so done for the day.

---

As Kokomiya was standing in the Piers Ivchenko pits at Esmerel, she spotted Jjuko getting ready for his practice run. She walked up to him.

"Good luck, Jjuko. Take advantage of the circuit to qualify well and to score points."


P.S.: I know team ownerships and market shares are way more nuanced and complicated than described here, but just imagine Piers Ivchenko runs on its own laws.

[Hodori Motorsports]

TACH GPC signs Sakiteno Kuyara as second driver

---

For a moment, in the HiTEN TACH GPC garage, despite the car they had to work with, there was a sense that they could manage a miracle now that Ankei Souzare had been usurped and thrown out of his own team. As the cars lined up on the grid in Happiloper, Berezowska in 23rd, the scale of the task began to set in.

Despite the potential of an ex-team's WGPC20 car at the start of the season, Ankei’s sheer ineptitude in the cockpit quickly depleted the parts supply. The team was then forced to cannibalise and reuse what competent teams with proper supply lines and the manufacturing capability to replace would throw out. All while Ankei was actively making the situation worse.

By the time the WGPC arrived in Happiloper, what was very soon to be rechristened TACH GPC had only a single dogshit beaten and bruised car that had cycled between Ankei and Berezowska over the season, the only development the cars ever saw being the ever-increasing amounts of epoxy and plasti-weld holding together carbon fibre that was as shattered as the hopes and dreams of everyone on the team not named Ankei Souzare.

And then Ankei brought along an irredeemable pile of garbage that he tried to pass off as Berezowska’s new car to Happiloper, after destroying the only other car they had in Saint Joseph. Kato Kutamicha then proceeded to ever so graciously reconfigure Ankei’s nose profile and jawline free of charge. A jawline that Happilopian doctors and surgeons were now attempting to repair.

So now Hanna Berezowska was put in the position where she needed to make up at least thirteen positions to make it into the points, with a car that mostly worked, a front wing that may or may not randomly disintegrate under aerodynamic load, and a spare cobbled together from whatever suitable scraps the team could recover from their own dumpster that also looked to be at risk of breaking apart if one so much as breathed on it. And with her family in attendance.

The lights at the end of the tunnel: at least there were only two more races after this, and An’ue Toudeyaku of Team ten*GU had contacted the team with a positive update only a day after the post-qualifying emergency meeting. Suspiciously fast turnaround, but that’s something to deal with after 55 laps around the Happiloper City Grand Prix Circuit.

---

---

---

Seokuba Motorsports Park
Hodori
Monday

I have something for you guys
Seokuba MS Park
ASAP
Zenethra and Reitoude groups should come
Bring Berezowska if you can
She’ll need her engineer, helmet, and suit
Also confirm that ZSL will continue the logistical partnership and any sponsorship

Sawano Mazaregi led the specifically invited parts of TACH GPC into the main garage. There, two people – a bespectacled, casually-dressed woman and someone of visibly Nekonian heritage given the cat ears atop their head, wearing a racing firesuit and standing at parade rest – flanked by two WGPC-car-shaped objects under covers greeted them.
“Welcome. I am An’ue Toudeyaku, and I will be taking over TACH GPC’s administrative duties for the remaining two rounds.” The woman wearing glasses introduced herself. “And I invited you here to introduce you to your new car and Berezowska’s new teammate.” She nodded to the catperson.
“Sakiteno Kuyara. I will be filling the role of second driver for the remainder of the season.”

---

The two removed the covers from the cars, first Berezowska’s then Kuyara’s, and the garage team, working with a handful of ten*GU personnel that had been standing by out of sight until now, prepared the cars for their shakedown runs.

Mazaregi felt something rising in her chest. She couldn’t decide if it was hope – something she hadn’t felt since assisting Kutamicha, watching Ankei as he tore up the cars – or if something she had eaten recently was not quite agreeing with her.

---

“Toudeyaku, a question.” Mazaregi approached Toudeyaku as the cars returned to the garage and the drivers debriefed with the rest of the team.
“Yes?”
“Where did these cars come from? A single day is way too fast to get all this together.”
“Since you actually have them now, no point keeping it a secret anymore. SAKATA’s been collaborating with me and the rest of TACH ever since you began plotting to get rid of Ankei, and we just needed that obstacle out of the way to get you the cars and parts you need.”

[Tumbra]

WGPC ︱ WGP2 ︱ Tumbran Super Formula ︱ WSRC ︱ TTGP ︱ Hodori GT-C ︱ Other Motorsport

Kim Insists Relationship with CEO Ashburn at Pressley Racing Is "All Fine"

STRATON: Amidst speculation that Tumbran billionaire Thomas Kim is potentially bankrolling a Hulkenberger Grand Prix to join the calendar of the World Grand Prix championship, potentially signalling a diversion of his attentions away from Pressley-Kim Racing Engineering, the billionaire insisted at an event in Tumbra that his relationship with the interim CEO of the organisation, Ian Ashburn, is "all fine and good."

Rumours of a rift between the two men emerged almost immediately after installation of Ashburn as interim CEO of the racing outfit, which is Tumbra's third-largest and the country's only team to have made a stab at entering the World Grand Prix Championship. Ashburn is said to have "taken the team in a drastically different direction from what Kim thought he was going to be able to do," according to internal Pressley sources; Kim is thought to be "intensely frustrated" at the fact that Ashburn, despite being an interim, is "way overstepping his mandate."

Yet the tech billionaire seems to be keen to downplay any idea of a rift between the two, with him responding to a question at the launch of a new start-up that monitors employees' productivity levels in factories that "everything was fine." When asked about why he was potentially supporting a Hulkenberger Grand Prix to potentially enter the grid for WGPC 22 instead of helping the Tumbran Grand Prix — which was left off the WGPC 21 calendar in somewhat controversial circumstances — get back on, he said that he was simply "keeping his options open."

For his part, Ashburn has stated that he has "received the full blessing of the new owner of the team to take the team in whatever direction I see fit on the sporting front — and a large part of that includes normal business relations, changing the way things are done here, and so on." Ashburn is expected to easily be confirmed as permanent CEO in the team's annual general meeting, in a showdown that could potentially pit Ashburn and Kim against each other for control of the racing organisation. Ashburn has hinted that there are "several buyers wishing to buy a substantial stake" in the team, and sources have confirmed that if Ashburn is confirmed as permanent CEO, Kim could find himself being bought out of the team entirely.

It is estimated that Kim's funding of the Pressley Racing team goes far beyond what his 40% ownership stake in the team — equal to late founder Charlie Pressley's stake in the team — and is thought to be a great contributor to the level of success that the team has found themselves in this season. With two races to go in Esmerel and Liventia, the team sits at fourth in the constructor's standings with one win from Hulkenberger driver Dario Nulkeschlager. Nulkeschlager, who before the mid-season break was thought to be mounting a surprise title challenge before a run of mediocre results resulted in him falling behind somewhat is widely regarded as one of the surprise stories this season. While he and six other drivers could still potentially win the championship, the runaway favourite is thought to be Turorian driver RL Cruisin, who leads the driver's championship by twenty-one points with fifty-two left on offer.

[Banija]

Jjuko Okafor, after his race in Hapilopper City

"Holy fucking shit." He said to his agent, Umar Adewale. The two men embraced. "WOW!"

"Fourteenth in your WGPC debut!" Adewale said to him. "That's one hell of a fucking race from you. You belong at this level, young gun. The best of the very best compete in the World Grand Prix, and the fact that you were able to finish all the laps, finishing mid table when you've never been here before- a testament to your skill, to your work ethic- and how well you've integrated yourself into the team. It ain't easy- and of course, it's uphill from here. So much more to accomplish, and the races will only get harder- but you've got it man." The two men embraced again before walking off the course.

They went to the press scrum, and a few Banijan reporters came up to him.

"Jjuko, what is it like racing in your first ever Grand Prix? How different is it from the streets of Aissa?" The reporter was credited from the All-Banija Sports Magazine.

"Well, first of all, obviously everything is multiplied by 10 up here. The car, the team, the competition, the track, the crowd, the energy, etc... There's been so much happening over the past couple of weeks, it's been a whirlwind. But I've gotta thank my team- especially Umar Adewale, who have ensured that I can just put my focus on the driving, and getting better with time. The ability to not only join a team at this time of year, but to do so in the middle of a title chase, is fantastic. The team has been fantastic to me- I look forward to getting back to the grind once I get to the practice facilities tomorrow."

"Jjuko, do you think that Aissa could host one of these?"

"Well... I think that we could. Why not next season? But that question is well above my paygrade- I'm focusing on racing, I think we can get a circuit submitted."

"Jjuko, you're off to the Vilitan Cove for the next race. Do you have a preview for that one?"

Okafor snickered. "Unfortunately, no." Everybody gave a laugh. "It's been a whirlwind- but the grind is continuous. When we get to the garage, we're gonna start working hard immediately, to get me familiar with what I need to know, and to work with driver development and what not. Once questioning was done, Okafor and Adewale left, and got ready to get on a plane.

---

Abel Wesoloski-Okafor, getting ready for Season 2 of the Outbox League

AWO wanted to get himself a league title in the Outbox League. So his focus, naturally, was there. So when his aid came busting in the room, out of nowhere, he was startled. "What's going on??"

"Your son- he finished 14th in the World Grand Prix!"

"He's racing?" AWO asked, almost stunned. "And that was his first race?"

"Yes!" The aide replied. "Look at him..." And he saw some clips- actual talent. Was the gaffer's heart growing soft for his estranged son?"

"Get that out of here." He told the aide. "We're focused on football here. I can't watch my son throw his life away." As the aide left, AWO had a tear roll down his cheek. But no matter the flashy debut, he was resolute- the younger Okafor's future did not lie in motorsport.

[Aboveland]

Silky wispy drapes stream into the air before Janne's eyes, the musky smell of incense filling the room; he loses them among the swirly waves of steam that emanate from the hot tub he has out of focus, both disappearing into the faraway, deep purple Abovian dusk. He's enveloped in a clutching, comforting warmth, the soft brush of the couch suede against his cheek a garnish to the way his skin melts into Ted's, pressed tightly against him. He can feel the way his heart thumps against his back, right around where his own heart is, and every once in a while, their pulses sync for a few beats. Occasionally, one of them sighs deeply, ruffling the other's hair and burying their cheekbones into their necks or vice versa.

The Pressley residence post-race rot had been agreed between them before any of the events of the Hapilopper Grand Prix unfolded. It had been Ted's idea, for starters, after he'd prompted Janne to go out for another disguised date at the same diner they'd done the same thing at the previous year. Janne had conceded with a hint of reservation — the guilt of Aji no Moto still puddled in his chest, even if Ted had seemingly brushed it off with a mental fortitude that, while in character for him, had made him start to wonder what other kinds of cold-blooded tendencies the Tumbran could effectively hide within. In any case, they'd both been strict about keeping their latest bout of cohabitation brief, especially with the late-season testing and preparation schedules tightening ahead of the championship crescendos.

So it had been, then, that they scrambled to bury themselves in each other as soon as physically possible and for as long as their bodies could support. They ticked all the boxes and went through all the designated rituals, as they had way back when in the budding days of their relationship, during their sporadic rendezvouses in the off-season, and in their indulgent early-season retreats. With all the Pressley mansion's amenities all set, they made good use of them, too: the dry sauna, the wet sauna, the cold plunge, the hot tub, the Turkish bath, the shower that sprayed piercing needles of water from all four walls and the roof with little margin for error around their most sensitive attributes — they all enjoyed their moments in the spotlight. It was a good old, vintage, and questionably healthy sanctuary like the ones they'd grown to take up as a habit for the better part of their whatever they had.

Ted clutches his chest tightly and presses a few light pecks to the nook of his neck. Janne's eyes dance as they follow the streaks of incense twirling gently into the room around them, lingering on the curls of ash that bend away and gently down from the stick into the holder. He sighs as he brings his free hand to caress Ted's; a tear collects on the outside of the eye he has pressed against the couch pillows. "What a year, huh," Ted murmurs, his voice muffled as his mouth presses against his scalp. "It's been so... weird, and tough, and... crazy. It felt a little bit like things were just... zooming around me in a blur. Feels like so much has changed." Janne hums back in agreement, and silence sets in again. Another curl of incense ash softly breaks away from the stick and splats quietly against the base plate. Janne can't see his face, but he knows he's said that with a grin.

"Except for this."

It comes out of Janne's mouth like a stifled moan, and the last sounds wither as he curls his lips in together. He's not certain whether he feels a tremble pulsing against his back or in his own chest.

"What do you mean?" Ted croaks, and he dives to press his face against Janne's shoulder again. He chuckles, but it sounds insincere.

"Oh Ted..." Janne reaches for the Tumbran's closest hand and pulls the back of it towards his lips, then he clutches their fingers together and breathes heavily into the gap between them. "I knew you wouldn't get it."

Ted's grasp on Janne's body relaxes. He whimpers quietly with confusion but doesn't say much else.

"This." He turns slightly onto his back to wriggle himself out of the embrace and looks up at Ted's soft eyes through the bridge of his nose. "Right now — its fine. Don't you see the trend?"

Ted frowns, but he's not accusatory. "What are you on about?"

The Abovian gasps for air as a wisp of incense wafts near his nose. The stick has just about consumed itself, with only a charred nub remaining at the tip of the slender wooden stick that's stuck into the support plate. "This is how we're fine. When we're hidden, disguised, or fucking. When it's just you, and me, and this huge ass couch, and we've left our phones on the nightstand since nine in the morning."

"Janne, I don't understand." Ted relaxes his grip and rides up on the backrest. He turns Janne's body to have the Abovian face him more directly. His frown has turned more bitter. "Is this about Aji no Moto still?"

"It's about everything, Ted!" Janne's right hand flails and falls on the plate of incense, scattering the ash on the coffee table, precariously close to dusting the shag carpet below it. "It's all so difficult." He sighs with a weep; when he cocks his head back to rest flat on the cushion, Ted meets his glassy gaze. "I thought that things would fall into place a year later..." The pad of his thumb runs through the fine hairs along Ted's wrist. "Maybe I'm still not over Aji no Moto too, yes — how I could do that to you, and I guess, how I could possibly... But it's that, and the times when things get weird and you look at me like we're Fitzpatrick and Batu, or when we stop talking for a while because we both want to eat each other's necks — not like this — but then we meet for a fling and pretend everything is fine."

His head falls again, and his stare poses on the darkening backyard. He sees their bare, pale reflections staring back at them on the sliding glass doors. "I'm in love, Ted. And I think that, maybe, you are too, but. You're confusing, and so I'm confused, and now I don't think I want to think about it anymore." Ted's heart thumps against his ear pressed up against the Tumbran's midriff. It, and the occasional squelch, is the only thing that stops the pause from being utterly silent.

"I — Janne..." Ted's voice trails off weakly. He brings one of his hands to cup his face; Janne meets it and presses it tightly against his cheekbone with a sniffle. The wind outside the sliding doors hisses and whistles violently.

"Sorry," the Abovian croaks. He exhales heavily onto Ted's palm. He pauses with his eyes wide open and his throat tight. "You're my ride home, also. So."

"I know," Ted whispers, and he lowers to press a gentle kiss on his forehead.

[Former Citizens of the Nimbus System]

(OOC: With thanks to Tumbra for letting Ted be involved here!)

Hapilopper City Grand Prix Circuit, Paulson, Hapilopper City, Hapilopper
Preston Autos Hapilopper Grand Prix; Lap 42

Ryker Lane sits, his car unmoving, in the sand.

Lap 41

This was by no means an inevitability. The Chase Cutter suited the Hapilopper Grand Prix Circuit well, its sheer power blasting away on the straights and its mollified handling characteristics not enough to disrupt that. For Janne, Qualifying left that potential disrupted – but Ryker began the race well within striking distance of the podium. A one-stop strategy, soft to start fast and hard to carry him to the end, and he was on course for that. His task? To hold back a hard-charging Ted Pressley, the softer tyres on his Ælund bringing him closer and closer to threaten a pass… For several laps, now. It would not be long until they no longer availed him.

Thus, the scene set, but for one player: Olivia Stone, seemingly no closer to a breakthrough than she was at the season’s beginning, about to be lapped.

This was the order of things as they rounded the final, long corner: Olivia ahead a dozen metres or so, barely pushing her car because to do any more would be to demand another stop, then Ryker, then Ted, screeching through in a storm of light and petrochemicals, active aerodynamics sticking them to the ground. One, two, three, they pushed to the line and crossed it.

The first domino was First Right, Ryker’s Chase Cutter unsettled just enough by the air of the Cygnus ahead to reawaken some of its more nightmarish characteristics. The car snapped; Ryker, taken by surprise but well-practised now, corrected. Slower from the corner than he might want; faster than he had the right to be; still slow enough that Ted could swing out, threatening the inside of Downhill Pass.

Olivia Stone, noting the blue flags ahead of her, begrudgingly held herself to the outside to be passed. The second domino.

Behind, Ryker noted this – noted that, with a backmarker involved, a dive around him would not be feasible. Thus, a defensive posture, edging closer, closer to the inside to guard it, confident that the outside was secure.

The outside that Ted, behind the width and wings and panels of the Chase Cutter, could not see. The third domino.

When he committed late, daring and necessity spurring him, he found his path obstructed by the entirely unsighted low profile of the Cygnus. The attempt to fall back into line was exactly the right call – and too late with the speed he was carrying.

And, with a crunch from behind Ryker and a deadened thump from beside him, three into one did not go.

---

“Is he alright?” Pressley’s Ælund does look fine from this angle, barring the shorn-off front wing, but lies far too close to the wall for that side of the car to be anything other than a crumpled wreck.

“Unsure as of yet, Ryker.” The melody of Martin’s voice echoes in his helmet; Ryker blinks, shaking off the sheer suddenness of the impact. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah… Yeah, think so.” He blinks again, awareness growing… And with it, the distance. It reaches and wraps around him, insidious and grey. Ryker sighs, glancing around, taking in the sight – the track behind him in his HUD, others streaming past, the sand trap ahead of him empty.

Nothing I can…

It’s empty.

Olivia Stone’s car isn’t where it should be.

It isn’t because it’s moving.

Ryker looks left – and sees the blue and green canopied form of Olivia Stone’s car pushing through the sand. Its wheels kick up far less than that fine of a material would normally mandate, clearly balanced on the very edge between burrowing into the ground with too much wheelspin and outright beaching the vehicle with too little speed. The control required to maintain forward momentum… It is masterful. And within…

Within, he thinks he sees the occupant shaking. With what, he cannot tell.

She reaches the circuit’s edge and (to the howls of more than a few disappointed Hapiloppians, and the cheers of a few others) crosses back onto tarmac. And Olivia Stone drives away.

Ryker takes a breath. He reaches for Coalescence.

“Alright, Ryker – we can begin the shutdown sequ-”

“Not yet, Martin! Let me…” His fingers tap at the buttons on his steering wheel, running through submenus on his HUD accessed only in an emergency such as this. “There!” Accelerator depressed, hard. Of his car’s eight driven wheels, only the four rearmost spin up, carving a trench, digging into the sand. Into the menus again. “Let ‘Toria know, we’re going to need a reset of basically everything if this works!”

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

Beaming, shaking her head, eyes accruing moisture at an alarming rate, Victoria Light scrolls through her computer’s own interface with the alacrity of her namesake. “Leagues ahead of you, you wonderful, beautiful Spark…”

Hapilopper City Grand Prix Circuit, Paulson, Hapilopper City, Hapilopper

“Understood, Ryker – passing it on now.”

“Thank you!” Imagination, I hope, I hope… Power rerouted again, Ryker grips his steering wheel, sets his jaw – and presses the accelerator again.

Coalescence bursts into glorious cerulean light as two Imagikinetic convertors act upon its chassis, pulling forward… And, at its current angle, up. Like a submarine, it surfaces from the sand that rushes out from behind it.

Come on!

Sand is not water – and yet now, with so many souls set against it, it parts until it need not do so. Coalescence and its pilot rise to its surface now, skimming it, forward, forward, inexorably forward – and then the yellow is grey, and the calling and booing and cheering from behind him rise further, and they are off again!

Ecstasy. Flooding, all-consuming ecstasy. “Martin,” Ryker laughs, focused even as he is on resettling himself, “where are we?”

“That would be… Twenty-fifth on the road.”

It does not abate. “Then everything we can to Janne! Wherever and however much is safe, give ICAST to him!”

And with joy in his heart, the distance banished for now, the friction far away - he drives on.

---

Previous Chapter
13. Confrontation (Part Two)

Next Chapter
15. Hope

Back to Hub

[Turori]

WGPC 21 Statistics & Data Zone: Rd. 7 (continued..)

:: With their victory from Pole Position in Hapilopper City, Gil Langdon has made history for not only themselves but the entire World Grand Prix Championship Season 21 Grid as the season has now produced the most winners from Pole Position in the modern era of the World Grand Prix Championships. Heading into Hapilopper City, the WGPC had already seen four drivers take the checkered flag from the first spot on the grid which was joint best in modern history with the WGPC Season 16 - a campaign which also saw back-to-back-to-back winners from Pole Position over a three race stretch. Langdon would join Janne Laukkanen, Dario Nülkeschläger, Ted Pressley and Vincent Von Visp as winners from Pole Position, the fifth of the season setting the new record for a WGPC Season. The mark also leaves three drivers: Skiia Vialiv, iBen Toralmintii and Laura Haukanna wondering where they have gone wrong, as those three are the only drivers to have started a Feature or Sprint race on Pole Position to have not found their way to the top of the podium in a race this season at least one time. For Gil Langdon, their first win from the Pole Position came in their second such attempt after having previously earned the Pole Position for the Patriotlandian Grand Prix Feature Race - an event which was won by fellow Katzeburgian Ron Sommer with Langdon taking the second step on the podium. Gil Langdon is now joint top the WGPC Season 21 Pole Positions tally board along with Janne Laukkanen of Nexus Racing.

WGPC Season 21 - Pole Positions: 

 1 -     Janne Laukkanen     2
   - (R) Gil Langdon         2
 2 -     Laura Haukanna      1
   -     Dario Nülkeschläger 1
   -     Skiia Vialiv        1
   -     Ted Pressley        1

For the past seven World Grand Prix Championship Seasons - and for 12 of the last 13, at least one driver has qualified on pole position at least 3 times. To find a season that did not have at least one driver turn the fastest qualifying lap at three different Grands Prix you have to go all the way back to World Grand Prix Championship Season 13 when three different drivers - Moisés Delgado, R.L. Cruisin and Lovisa Landenberg each shared the honor of the seasons most prolific qualifier with two Pole Positions earned.

Incredibly, over the stretch of the previous thirteen seasons, only three of those seasons would see two or more drivers finish joint top as having earned the most pole positions. In the other ten, the driver at the top of the Pole Position charts had earned that position on their own and didn't have to share the honor with anybody. Only two drivers have in that time period won the most poles in a season on multiple occasions, both did it in consecutive seasons and both had to share at least one of the seasons of that honor, which they did so together during World Grand Prix Championship Season 14. For R.L. Cruisin, the young star from WGPC Season 11 was figuring out what the racing scene was like without the support of Vilita and Turori Motorsports. As the teams original driver along side Stang Crax, Cruisin had a falling out with the team that pulled the rug out from under the drivers feet and forced them scrambling for a ride during the off season leading up to World Grand Prix Championship Season 12.

For WGPC Season 13, Cruisin had to settle for a mid-to-bottom of the grid ride with the newcomer team Frontiere Racing. Having expected to return to the local team, Cruisin was left stranded when the team pulled out. While Frontiere didn't have a particularly strong season, Cruisin did pull out their second career victory and would be the only driver outside the Top 10 in the point standings to score a win. The potential was always there as the team had speed but little reliability. It was that speed that had put Cruisin on pole position twice during the season - and perhaps that speed that also gave Carvenlo the confidence to take a chance on Cruisin when the WGPC 11 and 12 Constructors Champions decided to return to the grid for WGPC Season 14.

Of course, Carvenlo wasn't the only team returning to the grid that season. It would also mark the return of Vilita and Turori Motorsports - the team that Cruisin had driven for the first two seasons of their career. With Cruisin having already secured their place on the grid with the very team that had defeated them in their Rookie campaign, the Vilitan outfit had to find a new driving duo, picking up the Turorian iBen Toralmintii, fresh off back to back championships in the NS Super Formula Championships, and a complete long shot driver, the rookie from a place no one had ever heard of, Terho Talvela.

Come seasons end, it was Talvela and Toralmintii taking the Drivers and Constructors Championship that Cruisin had fallen just short of in their time with the team. Cruisin was the top performer at Carvenlo picking up their third career victory but the team fell well short of competing for the Constructors title. Cruisin had, however, for the second consecutive season, finished joint top for most Pole Positions earned with 3. The driver they would finish joint top with was Terho Talvela the World Drivers Champion.

In fact, from WGPC Season 10 through 14, only one time did the World Drivers Champion fail to also finish atop the most Pole Positions earned table. After Talvela's joint triumph with Cruisin, however, there wouldn't be another Champion atop the Pole list until last seasons Rookie Champion Brendan Faloe. With two races left in World Grand Prix Championship Season 21, any of the six drivers who have already earned at least one Pole Position this season could still jump up and hit the standard mark of 3 poles to earn the bragging rights for the campaign, but just two still have a chance to join André Luís Caconde (WGPC 9), Matthew Portland (WGPC 10) and Jessica Franssen (WGPC 17) as drivers who have won 4 pole positions in a single season. Of course, Piers Ivchenko's R.L. Cruisin will also be aware of their own opportunity to make history. Though they have not as of yet shown to be a challenger for the Pole Position, should Cruisin rally with two pole positions over the final two events, they would join Laukkanen and Langdon atop the tally board and become the first driver in the Modern Era to finish joint-top for Most Pole Positions earned in three different racing seasons. Two more pole positions earned would also allow Cruisin to catch Terho Talvela on 9 career poles, the most of any driver in the Modern Era.

WGPC Most Pole Positions by Season:

WGPC 20 - (3) :: Brendan Faloe
WGPC 19 - (3) :: William Archer / Dom Falepeau
WGPC 18 - (3) :: Sara Luna
WGPC 17 - (4) :: Jessica Franssen
WGPC 16 - (3) :: Jean Mercer-Daly
WGPC 15 - (3) :: Terho Talvela
WGPC 14 - (3) :: Terho Talvela / R.L. Cruisin
WGPC 13 - (2) :: Moisés Delgado/ R.L. Cruisin / Lovisa Landenberg
WGPC 12 - (3) :: Alexander Lund
WGPC 11 - (3) :: Stang Crax
WGPC 10 - (4) :: Matthew Portland
WGPC 9  - (4) :: André Luís Caconde
WGPC 8  - (3) :: Bruno Borghi

---

Preston Autos Hapilopper Grand Prix, Hapilopper City Grand Prix Circuit, Hapilopper City, Hapilopper :: In a roller coaster of drama, the WOrld Grand Prix Championships have truly entered the Camel's Hump with an upswing at the Hapilopper City Grand Prix Circuit. After seeing the second lowest grid movement of the season during the Grand Prix d'Île Saint-Joseph at the Circuit d'Arès in Île Saint-Joseph, it was right back in the other direction in Hapilopper City with the race being one of the most extreme of the season. Abdoulaye Goita set a new record forr futility on the season dropping 26 positions from their starting spot and tarnishing their hard earned neutral POG score for the campaign, dropping 10 spots to 28th overall on the grid. Things would be even worse, however, for teammate Ted Pressley who doesn't drop Positions over Grid often, but when they do drop them, they concede by the bucket. Pressley leads the field in races where they have lost -15 positions or more from their starting spot, having now done so on three different occasions this season. Without those three massive drops, Pressley would have a position standing in the Positions over Grid scoreboard, but instead, their dreadful result at the Hapilopper City Grand Prix Circuit has dropped Ted Pressley straight to the bottom of the chart.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the table, just when the bookies would have been all but assured that Naveen Kalkar's PoG score would normalize over the final races of the season, the mid-season addee to the WGPC Motorworks team did it yet again, scoring points for the second time this season and adding another massive Position increase over starting position to their record. Kalkar's average improvement of +11.3 positions over grid for three races is by far the best average result of any driver on the grid. To put their performance into perspective, however, Kalkar's total isn't just the best over those three races but there are just two driveer\\rs - Janne Laukkanen and Ron Sommer - who have scored a greater number of raw positions improved since the start of the season. If Kalkar can keep up these performances, there is no question they will be moving on from Motorworks into a sponsored seat next season.

Movin' on Up! 1 :: KAL +11.3 2 :: LAU +4.5 3 :: SOM +4.3 4 :: RAH +3.0 5 :: JOH +2.9 6 :: VVV +2.7 7 :: LMN +2.4 8 :: NÜL +2.1 9 :: KAM +2.0 10 :: HAU +1.1 11 :: LAN +1.0 12 :: FAE +0.8 13 :: BLA +0.4 14 :: TII +0.3 15 :: CRU +0.2 16 :: BZW +0.1

It's a Long, Way, Down! 17 :: HAZ 0.0 18 :: PLA -0.2 19 :: LNG -0.6 20 :: ARC -1.7 21 :: STO -1.8 22 :: AKS -2.0 23 :: MAR -2.0 24 :: KIN -2.1 25 :: C23 -2.1 26 :: TUV -2.8 27 :: VIA -3.0 28 :: GTA -3.1 29 :: FTZ -3.9 30 :: ANG -3.9 31 :: DEV -4.3 32 :: PRE -4.6

PaKaMo Sports ✓

@PaKaMoSports

Steady as a veteran on the path to retirement might be expected to be, iBen Toralmintii was at it again in Hapilopper City. Despite the Chaos around them, some drivers losing 26 spots, others improving by 17 - iBen Toralmintii left Hapilopper City with a PoG differential of just +1, the third straight race they have finished within one place of their grid spot.

#WGPC :: #PaKaMo :: #PoGDiff

---

---

Edit: (To 1) To Add Title, 2) URL of "Continued" Link in title, 3) Fix Race Name )

[Liventia]

CUTOFF

for Practice and Qualifying at Forest Cross International Raceway

[Liventia]

Week 14: Practice

Conditions:      	Dry
Lap Record:      	00:01:46.561
Session Length:		75 minutes
Nation:         	ESM
Circuit:        	Forest Cross International Raceway

Drivers have 75 minutes to complete as many laps of the track as they like

POS # ▍DRIVER                                               	FASTEST LAP	GAP TO LEADER
 1 55 ▍Gil Langdon                                          	00:01:55.293	00:00:00.000
 2 89 ▍Abdoulaye Goita                                      	00:01:55.312	00:00:00.019
 3  9 ▍Batu Tüvshinbayar                                    	00:01:55.329	00:00:00.036
 4 85 ▍Olivia Stone                                         	00:01:55.423	00:00:00.130
 5 95 ▍Hanna Berezowska                                     	00:01:55.461	00:00:00.168
 6 27 ▍Dario Nülkeschlager                                  	00:01:55.512	00:00:00.219
 7 66 ▍Vincent Von Visp                                     	00:01:55.564	00:00:00.271
 8 74 ▍Adonis Fitzpatrick                                   	00:01:55.655	00:00:00.362
 9 88 ▍Ted Pressley                                         	00:01:55.661	00:00:00.369
10  1 ▍Brendan Faloe                                        	00:01:55.706	00:00:00.413
11 96 ▍William Archer                                       	00:01:55.787	00:00:00.494
12 22 ▍Nini Johnsilvaturr                                   	00:01:55.824	00:00:00.531
13 51 ▍R.L. Cruisin                                         	00:01:55.867	00:00:00.575
14 82 ▍Kinu Luminna                                         	00:01:55.868	00:00:00.575
15 77 ▍iBen Toralmintii                                     	00:01:55.923	00:00:00.630
16 18 ▍Giancarlo Rahel                                      	00:01:55.966	00:00:00.673
17  3 ▍Sakiteno Kuyara                                      	00:01:55.997	00:00:00.705
18 17 ▍Janne Laukkanen                                      	00:01:56.092	00:00:00.799
19 91 ▍Naveen Kalkar                                        	00:01:56.098	00:00:00.806
20 94 ▍Ryker Lane                                           	00:01:56.111	00:00:00.818
21 12 ▍Ron Sommer                                           	00:01:56.129	00:00:00.837
22 33 ▍Sam Blaatschapen                                     	00:01:56.655	00:00:01.362
23 63 ▍Nepö Kinder                                          	00:01:56.746	00:00:01.453
24 11 ▍Jjuko Okafor                                         	00:01:56.912	00:00:01.619
25 84 ▍Angela Stella Tan Fang Ling                          	00:01:56.927	00:00:01.635
26 37 ▍Laura Haukanna                                       	00:01:57.127	00:00:01.834
27 23 ▍Cocoabo #23                                          	00:01:57.504	00:00:02.211
28 14 ▍Skiia Vialiv                                         	00:01:57.892	00:00:02.599
29 13 ▍Pierre-Louis Archer                                  	00:01:58.847	00:00:03.554

Week 14: Qualifying

Conditions:      	Rainy
Lap Record:      	00:01:46.561
Qualifying Type:	Traditional
Nation:         	ESM
Circuit:        	Forest Cross International Raceway

POS # ▍DRIVER                                               	FASTEST LAP	GAP TO LEADER
 1 77 ▍iBen Toralmintii                                     	00:02:04.951	00:00:00.000
 2 94 ▍Ryker Lane                                           	00:02:05.009	00:00:00.058
 3 51 ▍R.L. Cruisin                                         	00:02:05.017	00:00:00.066
 4  3 ▍Sakiteno Kuyara                                      	00:02:05.022	00:00:00.071
 5 13 ▍Pierre-Louis Archer                                  	00:02:05.024	00:00:00.073
 6 22 ▍Nini Johnsilvaturr                                   	00:02:05.041	00:00:00.090
 7 89 ▍Abdoulaye Goita                                      	00:02:05.097	00:00:00.146
 8 63 ▍Nepö Kinder                                          	00:02:05.117	00:00:00.166
 9 88 ▍Ted Pressley                                         	00:02:05.127	00:00:00.176
10 55 ▍Gil Langdon                                          	00:02:05.187	00:00:00.236
11 12 ▍Ron Sommer                                           	00:02:05.222	00:00:00.271
12 27 ▍Dario Nülkeschlager                                  	00:02:05.286	00:00:00.335
13 23 ▍Cocoabo #23                                          	00:02:05.291	00:00:00.340
14 74 ▍Adonis Fitzpatrick                                   	00:02:05.322	00:00:00.371
15 85 ▍Olivia Stone                                         	00:02:05.330	00:00:00.379
16 82 ▍Kinu Luminna                                         	00:02:05.348	00:00:00.397
17 14 ▍Skiia Vialiv                                         	00:02:05.387	00:00:00.437
18 37 ▍Laura Haukanna                                       	00:02:05.691	00:00:00.741
19 18 ▍Giancarlo Rahel                                      	00:02:05.696	00:00:00.745
20 11 ▍Jjuko Okafor                                         	00:02:05.917	00:00:00.966
21 17 ▍Janne Laukkanen                                      	00:02:05.930	00:00:00.979
22 95 ▍Hanna Berezowska                                     	00:02:05.948	00:00:00.997
23 84 ▍Angela Stella Tan Fang Ling                          	00:02:05.994	00:00:01.043
24 96 ▍William Archer                                       	00:02:05.999	00:00:01.048
25 33 ▍Sam Blaatschapen                                     	00:02:06.043	00:00:01.092
26  9 ▍Batu Tüvshinbayar                                    	00:02:06.064	00:00:01.113
27 66 ▍Vincent Von Visp                                     	00:02:06.283	00:00:01.332
28  1 ▍Brendan Faloe                                        	00:02:06.568	00:00:01.617
29 91 ▍Naveen Kalkar                                        	00:02:06.667	00:00:01.717	DNQ

[Zalivinia]

Hapilopper City Grand Prix Circuit, Hapilopper

She didn’t even flinch when Kutamicha began beating Ankei down. After all, he had shown little to no regard for her well-being, why should she care about him now? It was a pathetic sight, an arrogant man, pushed out of his own team, getting whopped by the very engineer he had once dismissed.
Berezowska watched from the sidelines alongside the rest of the crew. Nobody lifted a finger to intervene, though a few turned away as the engineer’s fists grew bloody. The confrontation ended as abruptly as it had begun, security flooded the scene, dragging both men away. Souzare was rushed to the hospital, while Kutamicha was escorted elsewhere, likely for a very stern conversation with the officials.

The race itself had gone poorly. Despite Souzare’s car being in better condition than before, it was still one of the weakest and most worn on the grid. Hanna finished a dismal 21st out of 28 drivers, a result that did little to lift the team’s spirits. Still, there was hope for the future under new management though with only a few races left in the season, time was running out.

At least the trip to Hapilopper wasn’t a complete loss. Hanna had managed to reunite with her family, her two sisters and her father. Her brother, Adam, was absent as usual, nobody knew where he was.
The restaurant was classy, just like everyone inside. By the time Hanna arrived slightly late, as she needed more time to make herself presentable after the race, her family was already seated at their reserved table. Her father, a tall, broad-shouldered elder man with a grey beard and hair, rose to greet her. He wore tan trousers, a crisp white linen shirt, and polished brown dress shoes. Throwing his arms open with a booming laugh that meant he didn’t mind her being late, he ignored the pretentious glances from nearby diners.

“Finally! I’ve had enough of talking on the phone!”

Her sisters followed suit. Natalia, the eldest sister, dressed in a sleek black dress, and Sara, whose dark hair and sun-kissed complexion mirrored their father’s. Unlike Natalia, who seemed to avoid the sun, Sara’s skin bore the warm, Mediterranean complexion.
For the first time in a while, Hanna allowed herself to relax. The race had been a disaster, but here, surrounded by family, the weight on her shoulders felt a little lighter.



Seokuba Motorsports Park, Hodori

The woman wasn’t feeling nearly as optimistic about TACH GPC not after the disaster HiTEN was. As she stepped into the garage, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, she studied her surroundings with a wary gaze. Beside her, her new engineer, but her attention was already drifting first to her new teammate introduced by Toudeyaku , then to the car that would (hopefully) carry her through the next race.

Her new teammate Sakiteno Kuyara was… unusual. Cat ears? She tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering across her expression before she schooled it back into neutrality. It was a strange sight for her, but oddly cute.

The novelty faded fast, though, as her eyes landed on her new car.
At first glance, it looked drivable, better than the scrap heap she’d been made to race by Souzare, at least. But was it enough? Was it already too little, too late? The race at Forest Cross loomed on the horizon, and she had no intention of showing up unprepared.

[Trans-Dniesters]

"Attention all units! Multiple active shooters reported in la Tour Visp. MDI agents request urgent backup. Suspects are heavily armed and extremely dangerous. Proceed with extreme caution when dealing with these suspects."

"That's our cue," Valentin Mironchenko, the man widely considered as the second-in-command of the Zimmer Private Military Corporation, said when the police scanner came alive with reports of a possible heist at the tallest building in all of Recuecn City turning into an active shooter situation. "The eagles of the VDV have opened the door for us. Let's go get our gold!"

"Ura!" the other Zimmer fighters cried out, and then they all got into the back of an armored car painted and wrapped to look like it was operated by the same company that handled the transport of money and valuables for the Societe Credit Recuecienne. Unlike Company Alfa, Zimmer's plan to get into the SCR and the gold bullion reportedly stored inside was far less subtle. Zimmer had no qualms at all about spilling blood, and they would smash their way into the bank and its vault if that was what it took. But they also preferred not to go in guns blazing, so they had prepared some subterfuge of their own to get past the initial layers of security before getting down to business.

Six Zimmer fighters wearing all-black tactical gear without any sort of identifying patches or marks got into the back of the armored car while Mironchenko got into the passenger seat of the cab up front. The driver was Rakhmatullo Nurmagomedov, alias "Arkan." Arkan had been a decorated Spetsnaz operator for the Pridnestrovian Army before he was dishonorably discharged following the investigation into the 2017 Ryakovo Massacre during the first Pridnestrovian intervention in Nordskania. Nurmagomedov had been a gun-for-hire for both mobsters and oligarchs before he was approached by Mironchenko, who offered him a spot as a unit commander for the newly formed Zimmer PMC under Ivan Radchenko. Arkan had accepted the offer, and he gained further infamy in the battlefield when he commanded "Storm battalions" (Zimmer units made up of civilian and military prisoners) which suffered heavy casualty rates during the Battle for Urodorasul in Estoria. Arkan was unpredictable and had near-insatiable bloodlust, but he was one of the most trusted fighters and commanders in Zimmer, trusted by none other than Ivan Radchenko himself. Mironchenko was happier to keep Arkan at an arm's distance, content with the knowledge that Arkan would do whatever it took to complete the mission. That didn't stop Mironchenko from trying to rein Arkan in whenever he could.

"Remember, we don't start shooting until after we get into the bank," Mironchenko reminded his colleague as Arkan started up the armored car.

"Oh, they will let us in, Cyclone," Arkan replied as he chambered a round into his sidearm. "Cyclone" was Mironchenko's Zimmer callsign. "One way or another, we're getting into that bank."

The armored car emerged from the garage in which the Zimmer fighters had been hiding for the last two months. Both Mironchenko and Arkan watched as police cars flew past them with sirens blaring to respond to the shootout developing at la Tour Visp. There should be nothing to worry about for Zimmer, but Mironchenko could still see Arkan tensing up as the police overtook their armored car on their way to downtown. Arkan didn't let his shoulders drop until he had turned into the old quarter where the SCR was supposed to be. But even then he was still on high alert as he navigated his way through the maze of tight streets in the old part of Recuecn City, as if he was expecting a barricade to greet the Zimmer boys around the next corner. But there were no barricades to be seen, let alone a single policeman, and within a few minutes the armored car lumbered towards the loading area of the Societe Credit Recuecienne.

The guards manning the gate leading into the loading area of the Societe Credit Recuecienne looked surprised to see the armored car approaching them. One of the guards raised his hand to get the vehicle to stop, which Arkan did. The same guard then approached the driver's side of the cab and asked in French, "What's your business?"

"Special transfer!" Arkan replied in broken French. "To Visp Financier!"

"There are no transfers to Visp Financier scheduled for today," the guard replied. He then took a closer look at Arkan and squinted his eyes. "I don't recognize you," the guard finally said. "Are you new around here?"

"Are you kidding me?" Mironchenko finally replied, also in accented French. "You must be the new one here! My partner and I have been going back and forth between here and Visp Financier for more than a month now! I've seen you here twice already. Quit mucking around and let us in! This is a time-sensitive delivery!"

The guard still looked skeptical about the whole thing, and as he walked away from the armored car to confer with his comrades, Arkan pulled his 5.7mm pistol out of its holster, and Mironchenko turned off the safety on his Anglatian-made Army Universal Rifle bullpup and chambered a round. The guard outside said something to the guard manning the gate, who said something back which the first guard apparently didn't like. Eventually, the gate began to swing open, and Arkan slid his pistol back into its holster before getting the armored car into gear and moving forward. The security station with its numerous cameras and access control points was to the left of the garage area, and the vault was right at the back. Arkan executed a three-point turn to get the back of the armored car right onto the loading area in front of the vault, a tricky maneuver given the space of both the garage and the vehicle. Arkan used the camera that served as the rear-view mirror of the armored car to get the back as close to the dock as possible before finally hitting the brakes.

Arkan then pressed a button next to the gearshift that unlocked the back door and made it possible to open from the outside. Once again, his hand went to his pistol, and he looked at Mironchenko and waited for the gunshots to come out of the back.

---

"What the fuck?!" Vyacheslav Klimov cried out when he heard gunshots from right behind him. He turned to the hostage in the driver's seat and pointed his Model 733 at him. "Start the car!" he said. "Get us out of here!"

Arya Nukova unloaded the entire 30-round magazine of her Model 733 into the place where she had seen the pair of douaniers. Hitting them wasn't the most important part, but the full-auto fire should keep their heads down and get them to ask for reinforcements. If it hadn't been for that douanier who had gone to the cargo terminal to check out Gavanavia's operations then maybe Nukova wouldn't have recognized the approaching douaniers for what they really were, and Company Alfa could have been caught with their pants down.

"Haley, get in! We gotta go!" Klimov shouted. Nukova dumped the last rounds in her magazine at where she had last seen the douaniers, and then she got into the car while she reloaded her weapon. Next to her, Boris Sorbariyev had busted open the window on his side and began firing his own Model 733 outside. Meanwhile, the red-headed hostage had remained surprisingly calm despite all the gunfire, and he got the car going and into gear. "Go, go, go!" Klimov shouted at the hostage, who stepped on the gas and peeled out onto the street.

Klimov looked around, trying to regain his bearings after the gunfire from both Nukova and Sorbariyev inside the car had rendered him temporarily deaf once again. His hearing began to clear up, but almost immediately Klimov's tinnitus struck, and all he could hear was something that could be described as a high-pitched ringing. Despite all that though, Klimov could finally see that they were traveling right down a wide avenue or boulevard. And straddling that boulevard was a roadblock of police vehicles, and Recuecian police were firing their weapons right at the car approaching them. Klimov, now operating almost entirely on pure instinct, lifted up his own Model 733 to his shoulder and fired right through the windshield.

"Merde!" the hostage cried out, the first emotion that he had ever seemed to display in this entire ordeal. More holes appeared on the hood of the car as the police tried to disable the engine, and smoke finally began to appear from said holes. The smoke eventually got too thick for anyone to see through it, and inevitably the getaway car for one half of Company Alfa crashed into another car, which also ended up triggering the airbags up front.

"Fuck!" Klimov shouted as the airbag got into his face literally. Beside him, the red-haired hostage was slumped over the driver's airbag. Whether he was dead or just unconscious, Klimov didn't know, nor did he really care. He was finally getting rid of a hostage that he didn't really want to take in the first place. Klimov fought his way through the airbag before he was finally able to get out of the car. Once he was able to do that, Klimov ran for the nearest car, took cover behind it, and fired on the police once again.

---

Six Zimmer fighters clad all in black and armed with Gewehr 36 rifles emerged from the back of the armored car and opened fire on the guards inside the garage of the Societe Credit Recuecienne, taking them out almost immediately. The guards manning the control booth hit the panic button right away, locking the doors to both their booth and the vault. Two Zimmer fighters ran for the door to the booth and attached a breaching charge to it. The breacher went off after three seconds, and the two Zimmerites who put the charge on the door went inside and shot dead the two guards inside. Once they were taken care of, one of the Zimmerites unlocked the vault, where both Mironchenko and Arkan were already waiting. The vault door took a very long time to swing open so Arkan squeezed his way in as soon as there was room for him to do so. "Cyclone!" he called out after a few moments. "You need to see this!"

Mironchenko looked back to make sure that the men had the situation under control before he followed Arkan into the vault. The former Spetsnaz operator was standing wide-eyed next to a big stack of gold bullion, and he already had one gold bar in his hands. "The rumors are true, Cyclone," Arkan said as he tossed the gold to Mironchenko. "It's all fascist gold in here!"

Mironchenko looked down at the gold bar that Arkan had tossed him and saw the distinctive eagle and swastika stamped on the surface of the ingot alongside what appeared to be a serial number. "It can't all be from the fascists, surely," he muttered, and another look at the bullion showed that at least half of the bars on the stack had the coat of arms of Recuecn.

"How much do you think all this shit is worth, Cyclone?" Arkan asked. "It has to be a trillion rubles!"

"At the very least," Mironchenko nodded. "Find a forklift or a mover, something. We need to get this shit moving right now! All this gold won't move itself."

"Voodoo!" Arkan called out, and one of the Zimmerites ran over. "Help me get this gold into the car!"

---

"Barry, Haley, go!" Vyacheslav Klimov shouted as he laid down suppressive fire for both Nukova and Sorbariyev to let them move forward through the avenue. The ultimate goal for this half of Company Alfa was not to move towards the barricade but rather to get into a side street that would lead them to the back of la Tour Visp and hopefully a rendezvous with the other half of Company Alfa. Klimov didn't know how much ammo he had burned through, but it had to be a lot because when he looked down at his vest, he was already down to just four of the eight magazines he had started the heist with. He took one more magazine from the vest and reloaded his Model 733 before firing again at the police.

The heat was beginning to get even hotter as now there was also gunfire coming from behind this particular trio of Pridnestrovians. With threats now coming from two sides, all three of them were running through their ammunition even quicker than before. But eventually they were able to make it to the side street leading to the rear of la Tour Visp, and now all three Pridnestrovians could focus on suppressing the police and other agents coming at them from the rear.

Arya Nukova had been a little more conservative with her ammo after her initial outburst at the douaniers. It was only at this point that she was reaching for her fourth magazine when both Klimov and Sorbariyev were already down to their last three mags. Sometimes, there was a use to mag dumping, but this was not one of those times. Klimov's group needed to reach Kumilyova's group before anyone could even consider themselves home free, and this side street seemed absurdly longer than anyone remembered. She also wasn't firing indiscriminately like the others were; instead, Nukova was taking the time to find her targets before sending any rounds downrange. She turned back the way they had come from and fired a burst at a pair of police cars that had responded to the call. Nukova looked around to regain her bearings and watch out for anyone who might come to flank them. She saw some movement out of the corner of her eye and Nukova turned her rifle to adjust. She had just enough time to see and recognize the same douanier agent who had gone down to the Gavanavia terminal just a week ago and tried to inspect the hangars for any signs of smuggling or contraband. The douanier was also armed with a rifle of his own, and before Arya could place the iron sights of her carbine on him, she saw a flash of light come out of the douanier's rifle and then she felt a sharp and intense pain in her left shoulder.

"Haley!" Vyacheslav Klimov cried out when he saw Nukova collapse to the ground. He fired a burst in the general direction of where he had seen the gunshots that had felled Nukova before rushing to her aid. "Come on!" Klimov said as he made to pick up his injured comrade.

"Argh! Fuck!" Nukova moaned in pain. Her left arm hung limply on her side while Klimov hoisted her healthy right arm over his shoulders and carried her along while Sorbariyev held the rear.

"Where the fuck are they?!" Sorbariyev asked. "We're going to get killed out here!"

"They'll be there!" Klimov insisted. "They'll be there," he repeated to himself with much less conviction.

---

It took three men to push the pallet loaded with gold bullion from the vault of the Societe Credit Recuecienne into the back of the armored car that the Zimmerites had used to get into the bank in the first place. The other Zimmerites were busy dealing with another security contingent that had been in the garage as well. The gunfight would have and should have been over if not for the layers of bulletproof glass protecting the guard's offices from the rest of the garage. If it weren't for these guards keeping the Zimmerites away from their office then the mercenaries would have already placed another breaching charge on the door and taken care of them all.

Valentin Mironchenko watched as Arkan and the other Zimmerites who had pushed the gold into the armored car strapped down the pallet and secured it to the floor. Once that was finished, he called out to the Zimmerites who were still fighting. "Let's go! Take care of those maggots and let's get out of here!" he shouted.

"Ura!" the Zimmerites who were still fighting shouted back, and two men each took out a tear gas grenade and threw those at the guards still fighting them. Once the grenades went off and threw up clouds of choking smoke, the Zimmerites got back into the armored car and drove out of the garage. It was a much tighter fit in the back of the armored car now that they had a load of gold bullion with them, but they made it work despite their own tactical gear.

"Next stop, Recuecn City Airport," Mironchenko said. "Specifically, the cargo terminals."

---

Gavrina Kumilyova, Ravil Yanenko, and Boris Nukorev had gone out of la Tour Visp via the back door, specifically the loading docks at the back where the two Borises (Nukorev and Sorbariyev) had parked the van in which they carried Company Alfa's guns and ammo into Visp Financier. In addition to the tactical assault packs filled with stacks of guilders on their backs, these three members of Company Alfa also had around three hundred million guilders' worth of cash smuggled into a pair of cleaning carts which were now loaded into the back of the van. The two groups of Company Alfa operators had split up, with the plan being that whoever encountered the authorities first would open fire and get the cops to call for reinforcements and pave the way for the Zimmerites to get in and out of Societe Credit Recuecienne with a load of gold unmolested. Kumilyova's group had not encountered any police as they drove down the street to the back of la Tour Visp, but the echoes of gunfire from across the streets was enough to tell the story of what had happened to Klimov's group.

"Come on, come on, come on," Kumilyova muttered as she looked down the street from the back of the van. "Where are they?"

"They'll be on the other side of this tower, Rina," Boris Nukorev replied. "If they're quick about, we should meet with them down that intersection."

"Ravil, get back here," Kumilyova ordered. "If they need more firepower, two is going to be better than one."

"Der'mo," Ravil Yanenko muttered even as he scrambled from the front of the van into the back alongside Kumilyova. He checked the chamber of his Model 733 carbine to make sure that a round was still loaded and ready to fire, and then he got down on one knee in front of the van's sliding door and braced himself.

"Get ready," Nukorev called out. "I think I see them!" A second later, he added, "We've got casualties!"

"What?! Who?" Kumilyova asked.

"Shit, I think it's Arya!" Nukorev replied. "Slava's helping her, but I think she needs a medic right now!"

"Well, that's just our luck!" Yanenko said. "She is our medic!"

Nukorev hit the brakes on the van, and as soon as their vehicle came to a stop, Kumilyova slid open the door. She and Yanenko leaned out of the van and opened fire on the pack of chasing policemen and agents. Vyacheslav Klimov tossed the wounded Arya Nukova into the back of the van before jumping in himself, and then it was Boris Sorbariyev's turn to get in. "We're all in here!" Klimov shouted. "Let's go!"

Nukorev stepped on the gas even as Kumilyova and Yanenko were sliding the door of the van shut once again. Meanwhile, Klimov went over to Nukova to help her tend to her wound. Arya had already stripped off her suit jacket to reveal a large patch of dark red blood staining her collared shirt. There was a large ragged trench right in between her neck and her shoulder. A few more centimeters in a different direction and the douanier could have hit her in a much more important area like the collarbone or an artery. "Get some gauze or a towel or a thick cloth and put pressure on it!" Nukova said.

Klimov rushed to do exactly what Nukova had just said, and he pulled a pair of unused cleaning towels from one of the carts that the two Borises had used to smuggle their weapons into la Tour Visp. Klimov folded the towels on top of each other and pressed them down hard on Nukova's wound. Arya groaned from the pain, but she shook her head when Vyacheslav looked like he was going to ease up. "Keep the pressure on," she said through gritted teeth. "If you have to, tie it down with some rope or whatever."

Klimov looked around again for whatever he could use to secure the makeshift bandage to Nukova's shoulder. But, while he was doing that, he saw that the guard whom Kumilyova had decided to take hostage was also in the van with the rest of Company Alfa. Vyacheslav turned to Kumilyova and asked her in an angry tone, "What the fuck is he still doing here?!"

"I already told you, Slava!" Gavrina shot back. "Ivan fucking Radchenko himself wants this guy specifically, and he told me that we were all going to get bonuses if we deliver him to the Zimmerites!"

"Fuck his bonuses!" Klimov shouted. "This asshole is so much more trouble than he's worth. I don't give a damn about any bonuses that Radchenko wants to give us. I just want to get the fuck out of here!” Klimov went to the guard, whose hands were still bound behind him by the zip ties that Vyacheslav had applied at the start of the heist, and then he took off the guard’s uniform shirt and tore off two strips from it which he used to tie down the improvised bandage on Nukova’s shoulder.

“We’re coming up to the garage,” Boris Nukorev reported. “Get ready for transfer.” Company Alfa knew that there was a high possibility that their original getaway vehicles would be tracked down by the Recuecian authorities so they had prepositioned a Gavanavia truck in a parking garage so that they could switch vehicles and get back to the airport with as little heat on them as possible. Nukorev drove past the automated gate leading into the garage, and then he made his way to the back of the garage, which was dimly lit. There was only one vehicle parked there, a cabover truck bearing the logo of Gavanavia on the sides. Nukorev parked the van two spaces away from the Gavanavia truck, and almost as soon as he had killed the engine, Company Alfa had jumped out of the van in order to make the switch. Klimov took care of transferring the wounded Nukova from one vehicle to the other, while Yanenko and Sorbariyev handled the carts filled with guilders. But just as Klimov was about to close the doors at the back of the truck, he saw Kumilyova leading the hapless guard towards it once again. “You have got to be kidding me!” Klimov exclaimed.

“I told you, I’m serious about those bonuses,” Kumilyova replied, “and I intend for all of us to get those bonuses.”

“And I am serious that I think that we should have gotten rid of this asshole already,” Klimov said back. “We can’t have one more deviation from the plan!”

“You’re not the one dealing with Zimmer, Slava. I am,” Kumilyova said. “I’ll handle everything to do with their end of the deal.”

“I really hope you know what you’re doing right now, Rina,” Klimov muttered as Nukorev reversed the Gavanavia truck from its parking spot in the garage. The drive to the airport was much calmer now that it appeared that Company Alfa had taken the heat off of themselves. The sirens were still blaring on the police cars that passed them by, but they didn’t appear to be chasing the Gavanavia truck that now held those responsible for the heist at la Tour Visp. Finally, Company Alfa arrived at the cargo terminal of Recuecn City Airport, where the armored car used by the Zimmerites was already parked and waiting for them. The Spetsnaz operators dropped their packs filled with guilders and left them in the truck alongside the two cleaning carts, and then while Klimov and Yanenko helped the injured Nukova back inside the terminal, Gavrina Kumilyova handed over the Recuecian hostage to Valentin Mironchenko. “As promised to the composer,” Kumilyova said. “One Recuecian security guard with a sore jaw after Slava cracked him.”

“Spasibo, tovarishch,” Mironchenko said as he hauled the guard up to his feet via the latter’s shirt. “We have some places where we can use a man of his talents and experience. You’ll find your bonuses waiting for you when you get back to Tiraspol.”

“Your people know where to take the money now, da?” Kumilyova asked.

“Don’t worry,” Mironchenko assured her. “We will make sure that the Recuecians are as confused as the Hapiloppians trying to figure out who bombed the electric vehicles they hate.”

The Zimmerites took the Gavanavia truck that Company Alfa had used to get back to the airport and drove it away to a destination that only they knew, leaving behind the armored car and the gold. Nukorev drove the armored car inside the terminal, and then he, Yanenko, and Sorbariyev took out the gold bars and transferred those into the curved cargo pallets used by cargo planes to carry most of their loads while Klimov and Kumilyova tended to Nukova’s wounds. Company Alfa finished loading the gold into the pallets just in time to get said pallets loaded into a Gavanavia Boeing 747-8 freighter that had arrived a few hours earlier. The flight crew of the 747 didn’t even bat an eye when they saw four exhausted men and two tired women, one of whom was heavily favoring her left arm, coming onboard their plane. “Just don’t bleed all over the upholstery,” the first officer said. “Although this probably isn’t the first time you’ve heard that, I guess.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Nukova exclaimed.

It felt like forever before the 747 finally pushed back from the cargo terminal and started its four engines. It took even longer for the massive cargo plane to line up on the runway, but finally the engines spooled up and pushed the 747 down the runway and into the air. It was only after the plane had taken off that Gavrina Kumilyova finally allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief. They were finally out of Recuecn and headed back for Tiraspol. Another successful mission for Company Alfa in the books, but somehow it didn’t feel that way for her. Maybe it was because Arya got injured, or maybe it was because she and Slava Klimov disagreed about that guard that Ivan Radchenko wanted. But Company Alfa did what they were supposed to do, and Gavrina would have to be happy with that.

[Hodori Motorsports]

Two rounds to the end, and the mechanics and pit wall team that made up TACH GPC were finally entering a round with something resembling cautious optimism for the first time since the start of the season. The two cars unloaded in Esmerel had new liveries; a variation on Super Option’s fairly new red-white-black-blue colour scheme and “fragment” livery style, with larger blocks of colour than the shakedown livery the cars wore back home in Hodori.

And with the new cars and their liveries came courtesy of Toudeyaku a handful of personnel from Team ten*GU and matching team- and sponsor-branded mechanic’s jumpsuits and polo tee-shirts for everyone and new firesuits for the drivers.

---

Seated at the pit wall with cars circulating around the track for their practice runs, Sawano Mazaregi looked at the woman seated nearby. Kuyara’s engineer, Suzuchiru Souzare. Knowing that Suzuchiru was related to that asshole but not knowing her specific background, Sawano was wary of her. At least Suzuchiru appeared to be taking her role seriously, with a level of discipline that gave Sawano the impression that Suzuchiru either had military experience or was well-accustomed to acting as an engineer.

Another gift from Toudeyaku had been a stack of wild-west-style wanted posters, bearing Ankei Souzare’s picture and name, offering no reward dead or alive, and “or alive” crossed out in what had clearly been an angry manner. Even with Ankei’s complete disregard for Berezowska’s safety before Kutamicha made him unable to continue on for medical reasons, most of TACH GPC’s members found the posters to be in poor taste, with a majority either being from Ikasamo or having seen close associates, friends, or family die or receive career-ending injuries from crashes at Ikasamo.

As usual, the one nominally in charge of the team was absent from the garage. But unlike that asshole, Toudeyaku made it clear that she was going to be keeping herself in the office and out of the way to focus on the administrative side of running the team and keeping the sponsors happy, with the garage team and the drivers working to deliver the results.

---

---

---

bfr.himeblog.net
The Blue Flag Report

Circle: Blue Flag Report
Post by 87 Pigeons
Pigeon_87


Hello everybirby!

No funny image this time around.

Wait hold on I just found one

Repost this dancing catgirl to trigger a Cryptofucker AI Techbro Idiot:


Now let’s head on over to the tables. Despite what I said I was going to do in my previous post I had to go and properly fix things; I thought the jank was funny but WrenchBitch made me fix it (KISMO would’ve had a lap completion rate over 100% because I didn’t want to have to go and properly separate when drivers drove for multiple teams).

 P  No  DRV  Driver               Constructor             LNC    BFP    MBP    Lap Rate
 1  11  OKF  Jjuko Okafor         Piers Ivchenko            0      0      0     10.073%
 2  17  LAU  Janne Laukkanen      Nexus Racing              2      2      0     99.634%
 3  55  LNG  Gil Langdon          KISMO                     4      4      0     99.267%
 4  94  LAN  Ryker Lane           Nexus Racing              5      5      0     99.084%
 5   1  FAE  Brendan Faloe        Cygnus                    6      6      0     98.901%
 6  22  JOH  Nini Johnsilvaturr   Pressley Racing           6      6      0     98.901%
 7  77  TII  iBen Toralmintii     Race Eelandii VTGP        6      6      0     98.901%
 8  12  SOM  Ron Sommer           Viska                     6      6      0     98.901%
 9  63  KIN  Nepö Kinder          Urosovsky-Gatutin         7      7      0     98.718%
10  27  NÜL  Dario Nülkeschlager  Pressley Racing           7      7      0     98.718%
11  82  LMN  Kinu Luminna         Preston Autos             9      9      0     98.352%
12  96  ARC  William Archer       Viska                    11      8      3     97.985%
13  66  VVV  Vincent Von Visp     Urosovsky-Gatutin        13     13      0     86.630%
14  95  BZW  Hanna Berezowska     TACH GPC                 15     15      0     89.744%
15   9  TUV  Batu Tüvshinbayar    KISMO                    16     16      0     60.073%
16  58  KAM  Shuhei Kamado        KISMO                    16     16      0     79.487%
17  23  C23  Cocoabo #23          Race Eelandii VTGP       17      9      8     96.886%
18  30  MAR  Otto Markul          WGPC Motorworks          20     20      0      9.341%
19  74  FTZ  Adonis Fitzpatrick   HMG Grand Prix           24     24      0     77.473%
20  84  ANG  Angela Ling          Preston Autos            29     29      0     82.784%
21  16  KAW  Azalia Kawakai       WGPC Motorworks          30     30      0      0.000%
22  33  BLA  Sam Blaatschapen     GPA Pryfors Bilar        40     40      0     71.795%
23  14  VIA  Skiia Vialiv         HMG Grand Prix           40     24     16     78.571%
24  37  HAU  Laura Haukanna       GPA Pryfors Bilar        40      2     38     92.674%
25  18  RAH  Giancarlo Rahel      WGPC Motorworks          50     50      0     53.114%
26  21  HAZ  Nik Hazri Lutfi      Piers Ivchenko           50      5     45     80.769%
27  51  CRU  R.L. Cruisin         Piers Ivchenko           51      2     49     90.659%
28  91  KAL  Naveen Kalkar        WGPC Motorworks          53     53      0     33.516%
29  13  PLA  Pierre-Louis Archer  WGPC Motorworks          59     59      0     54.579%
30  88  PRE  Ted Pressley         Ælund Grand Prix         74      0     74     86.447%
31  40  AKS  Adriana Lillian      Eminent                  80     22     58     25.641%
32  85  STO  Olivia Stone         Cygnus                   84     11     73     84.615%
33   7  DEV  Anneliese Devereux   Eminent                  95     75     20     34.249%
34  89  GTA  Abdoulaye Goita      Ælund Grand Prix        165      0    165     69.780%
35  10  ASZ  Ankei Souzare        HiTEN.gpt               437    437      0      0.000%

Making his WGPC debut, we have Banijan driver Okafor with a perfect (in terms of laps completed) race. The Meatball Club gains a new member, with Cocoabo #23 “Tasty Cocoabo” failing to make it to the end, retiring on lap 48 and bringing home 8 MBP. Ælund puts in another strong showing for the Linco McPahan Unaward for Unreliability and maintaining a pure 100% LNC from DNFs, by delivering a double-DNF in Happiloper with Goita’s race ending on lap 8 and Pressley’s on lap 42. With 97 laps remaining in the season, and so many seasonings left to go on the Cocoabo, only Pressley, Stone, and Goita remain in contention for the Linco McPahan Driver’s Unaward for Unreliability.

And then, unreachably at the bottom, we have the “winner” of our very first Ankei Souzare Anti-Pole Position Award with consistent dead-last qualifying results in every round he entered before getting a very much deserved fist to the face, after having locked up the Sigur Bjarnason Blue Flag Cup for Drivers.

 P  Constructor             LNC    BFP    MBP    Lap Rate
 1  TACH GPC                  1      1      0      4.945%
 2  Nexus Racing              7      7      0     99.359%
 3  Pressley Racing          13     13      0     98.810%
 4  Viska                    17     14      3     98.443%
 5  Urosovsky-Gatutin        20     20      0     92.674%
 6  KISMO                    21     21      0     94.322%
 7  Race Eelandii VTGP       23     15      8     97.894%
 8  Preston Autos            38     38      0     90.568%
 9  HMG Grand Prix           64     48     16     78.022%
10  GPA Pryfors Bilar        80     42     38     82.234%
11  Cygnus                   90     17     73     91.758%
12  Piers Ivchenko          101      7     94     90.751%
13  Eminent                 175     97     78     29.945%
14  WGPC Motorworks         217    217      0     66.911%
15  Ælund Grand Prix        239      0    239     78.114%
16  HiTEN.gpt               451    451      0     39.927%

Do note that here I’m considering HiTEN.gpt and TACH GPC to be different teams, even though the WGPO considers TACH to be the successor and thus eligible to retain Berezowska’s eight points from the opening round.

With Berezowska finishing only one lap down despite using what WrenchBitch tells me was an unsalvageable pile of shit of a car, TACH GPC is at the top of the table so far, even though they had at the time only one driver and completed only that one race.

Race Eelandii collects their first MBP of the season with “Crispy Double-Breaded and Deep-Fried” Cocoabo #23’s DNF, and Ælund increases the gap to Piers Ivchenko on their quest to secure the Linco McPahan Unconstructor’s Unaward for Unreliability.

Thanks to dumbass Cryptofucker AI Techbro Idiot’s inability to set a qualifying lap within 107% of pole, HiTEN.gpt secures the SVJ Racing Blue Flag Cup for Constructors.

---

---

---

“Junker, two zero five one. RTB.” Suzuchiru relayed to Kuyara her lap this time around as she flew across the line in the wet conditions, her car sending up a cloud of spray. “Junker” had been Kuyara’s callsign before ejection-related spinal injuries forced the higher-ups in the HADF to clip her wings, a callsign earned when those around her noticed a tendency for her to be involved in airframe-ruining incidents, usually as a hapless victim and after inadvertently finding defects in maintenance. Surgery and physical therapy helped Kuyara regain the ability to walk, and her physical therapist was beyond livid to find out that she had hopped back into a cockpit after retiring from her post as a SEAD lecture instructor.
“Copy, RTB.”
Ever since Kuyara’s WGP2 outing, she had been insistent on dragging both her longest-serving electronic warfare officer and any of her ex-squadmates she could contact into forming a racing team. This even involved a brief foray into rallying. As nostalgic as getting back into the cockpit with Kuyara was, Suzuchiru decided she much rather preferred sitting atop the pit wall, giving Kuyara updates as the race progressed. What Suzuchiru considered the most difficult part of her role was learning the specific language of codewords, and with everyone involved in the on-track performance in the privateer GT400 effort all having served in the same squadron, how those motorsports-specific codewords mapped to brevity codes they had used in the HADF.

The rain showed no sign of abating. Kuyara made it back to the garage without incident. After a minute, her car was refueled and dispatched for another attempt.

---

“Well, that’s going to mess with the plan.” With the chequered flag dropped on the penultimate qualifying session, Kuyara noted the relative order of both her car and Berezowska’s. Fourth and twenty-second. The Plan, as Toudeyaku had discussed with Kuyara and her engineer when they had been brought onboard, had been for Kuyara to serve as tailgunner for Berezowska.

Now a new plan was required.

Toudeyaku adjusted her glasses before addressing the team for debriefing and hammering out a strategy for tomorrow’s race.