Noah: Tall, lanky maned wolf guy (see halfway down
this snippet). Gryphon Gear's electrics expert. Brought in by software expert Waxwell (Waxwell likes to say that Noah is the "bottom end to his top end".) No doubt by now you can see he is permanently surly and cynical, not to mention a bit hipster and on occasion flambouyant, and as a result the other mature, responsible adults of Gryphon Gear like to poke fun at him.
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Five hours of black roads and white lines snaking under their wheels was an eternity, forever looking behind them for the invisible long arm of the law. It was with no small amount of relief that the competitors who elected to accept Rayyan’s offer of private transportation to the UK arrived at the small airfield south of Dallas, Texas, just as the sun peeked over the horizon.
It shouldn’t have come as any surprise to Strop that many of the participants had transport of their own that they could rely on in a pinch. It took money, technology, resources to build the cars, and many of the competitors were in fact very senior or even in some cases the CEO of the companies whose cars were representing. That it did surprise him only went to show how little thought of contingencies and planning the Gryphon Gear crew put into it. Well, that was what they got when their logistics mastermind and expert in all things legal, Dan, self-imposed ignorance (in retrospect, obviously because she knew that it would involve illegal things).
In the chilly morning air, those who remained lined the cars up on the tarmac, and got out, stretching their limbs to the sensation of another leg done, and another journey to begin. Overhead, the carrier, in all its olive grey glory, loomed, its massive wingspan and cargo bay dwarfing drivers and cars alike.
Sam gulped as he stared at the plane. “We’re riding in THAT thing?”
Swigging his single malt whisky, a clearly buzzed Rayyan, decked out in fur lined aviator jacket, draped his arm over Sam’s shoulders. “Tha’s right!” He slurred. “And I’ll be flying!”
Sam shrank back, terror in the whites of his eyes. “Strop! I changed my mind!”
Rayyan laughed, a deep, typically middle-European laugh (at least, that’s the impression Sam got, but he wouldn’t have known, being a culturally incompetent bogan Australian). “Relax man! I’m just kidding. Our flyboys are very trustworthy, and you’ll see the shores of England before you can say Mayday! Cheers!” And with that he swung away, clinking bottles with an equally inebriated 8bs.
Preoccupied with packing, loading, securing and checking, the morning flew on by and before they all knew it, the carrier was in the air, buzzing across the Atlantic. In the cargo bay, Sam fidgeted, pawing at the netting, fretting the utter lack of windows. Content with playing a ruthless game of Presidents and Assholes in the back of the van, in which everybody was ganging up on Noah to ensure he remained the Asshole for the duration of the entire trip, the Gryphon Gear gang barely noticed that not only was Sam agitated, but so too was Kai, pacing up and down, his shoes making an incessant clacking sound on the metal grilles.
Finally, Sam decided to mask his own insecurity by picking on Kai. “What’s your problem?”
Kai glared at Sam, fatigue showing in the bags under his eyes, a slightly manic look accentuated by his shaking fingers. “Need a smoke.”
“Oh God Kai,” Sam sighed, hands on hips. “You really need to kick the habit.”
Kai growled back, “It’s not a habit! I smoke a few every now and then. I’m not addicted!” His shaking hands and choleric temperament however indicated otherwise.
“Not only are you having withdrawals, but it adds up,” Sam chided Kai. “You’ll get lung cancer.”
Kai rolled his eyes. “This may give me lung cancer in like fifty years time, but you’re gonna get AIDS in two.”
“Not cool man. AIDS isn’t funny.”
Kai raised an eyebrow. “Because cancer is hilarious, and withdrawal symptoms are comical?”
“Don’t change the subject!” Sam jabbed his pointing finger at Kai. “You wouldn’t be in withdrawals if you stopped smoking. I’m doing you a favour!”
Kai smirked. “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t have problems picking up if you stopped opening your mouth.”
For a few seconds, Sam gaped like a goldfish out of water. Then his face clouded. “That’s it! You better grab a parachute, coz you’re going down!” And with that, he charged at Kai and tackled him into the nets.
Some of the other competitors glanced over, others giggled as Kai and Sam tussled, rolling around with arms locked, and eventually got hopelessly tangled in the nets. As was the natural law of nets, somehow they found all four of their limbs completely entwined, and unable to extricate themselves, let alone continue fighting.
“Um, help?” Sam called out.
“This is all your fault,” Kai muttered.
Inside the new Gryphon Gear van, Noah’s growls of displeasure were steadily increasing in volume, his tail was lashing about, like a gasket valve trying to hold back the mounting pressure. Thirteen rounds straight of being the Asshole could not be mere coincidence. The others had steadfastly denied any foul play, it was just the nature of the game, and also, they couldn’t resist, also his nature to be the Asshole. He had seen it coming a mile off but somehow that didn’t make him feel any better. He wondered why.
It was Tesla who blew cover first. Her stupid doggy grin was just that little too broad, and when he glared at her, she started giggling. Then it was Strop’s turn, and then it became infectious and even Hannah cracked, and soon enough, all attempts at denying the conspiracy had turned into a flagrant admission, laughter and the occasional whinny filling the cabin of the van.
“THAT’S IT!” Noah shouted, “YOU’RE ALL BUTTS!” He threw down his cards, booted open the rear door of the van, and stormed out, Tesla howling as she repeated, “Butts! He said butts!”
Fuming, it was Noah’s turn to pace around the cargo hold, whereupon he found Sam and Kai, still tangled in the nets. “You idiots are real talented,” he muttered as he attempted to unravel the various loops and ropes for several minutes. Just as he was about to finish, however, he sniffed, his nose wrinkling.
“Is that smoke?”
Instantly, Sam panicked and started thrashing around, undoing most of Noah’s good work. “MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY! Shit, that drunk fuck lied to us!”
Abandoning Sam to his fate, Noah used his nose to track the smell. Nobody else had noticed and it wasn’t all that visible in the relative darkness, but certainly it seemed to be coming from the front. He picked his way through the cars, Kai following, and climbed the stairs towards the cabin, not knowing what to expect.
A blast of smoke hit them as they popped their heads through the door. Tendrils curling thick around their nostrils, they inhaled and simultaneously coughed. “That’s not a fire,” Noah commented. “That’s not cigarette smoke,” Kai added, sampling the heady fumes with a suspiciously sickly sweet aftertaste. Then it occurred to them that contrary to screams coming from the cockpit, there were sounds of laughter and general merriment.
“Good Lord,” Noah murmured when the penny finally dropped.
“OH MY DOG, IT’S POT!” Out of nowhere, Tesla crammed her head between the two as she tried to force her way into the cockpit. “WHERE’S THE SHIT AT!?”
“Wait, wait, who the fuck brought pot on the plane and does this mean all the pilots are stoned?” Noah asked, but his question was rapidly smothered by the perpetrator, Rayyan, materialising out of the smoke and taking a long drag of his joint, then blowing a cloud so thick it obscured his face. When the smoke cleared, he was holding several more joints between his fingers. “Ask, and it shall be delivered unto you.”
“I can’t believe this,” Noah started, but Tesla promptly took one and leant over Rayyan’s proferred lighter. “Buddy, you are so in my good books right now, I would do you if you asked.” She winked at Rayyan, completely oblivious to Kai’s look of confusion, and Noah’s look of disgust. “That’s it, I can’t take this anymore.” With that, Noah retreated away from the smoke, hoping instead to find Seba Machado III and that yerba mate he heard him offering earlier, that was, if he was even on the plane. Alas for him, Seba didn’t appear to be on the plane, and his attempt to avoid the happy fumes was in vain, for it gradually spread through the cargo hold, piquing the curiosity of many others, and they all started floating their way up to the front to investigate.
“Wow, it’s like a regular party up in here,” Strop said in wonder as he poked his head into the cockpit, then wrinkled his nose and coughed. “Okay, make that frat party.” Somebody passed him a bottle of malt whisky, and he eyed it warily, considering the situation. A mile high in the air, flying incognito over the Atlantic ocean, and he wondered what kind of silly stuff he would or could get up to. Then again, it looked like anybody capable of flying the plane was already high out of their mind, and after all that had happened, it was all relative.
“Cheers,” he said, and chugged several mouthfuls, before attempting to pass the bottle on, to, as it turned out, a slightly bemused Jack Cossack.
“Should I or should I not pretend that none of this is actually happening?” the mod asked, rhetorically.
Strop gasped, the alcohol burning down his gullet, feeling warmth rushing through his veins. Damn, it had been a long time since he drank, and it was already going straight to his head. “Well, Jack, you could lighten up and get smashed like half everybody on this plane already is, or you could help Kai check that van Vos gave us for anything dodgy.”
Jack immediately brightened and adjusted his hat. “Actually that sounds like a good idea,” and headed off with Kai in tow, Kai looking almost a bit relieved to have something proper to do. Ten minutes later, they had clearly found the radio, because the plane filled up with the sound of music, and shortly after that, Sam burst into the cockpit, yelling something about well if they were all going to die anyway, shit, he might as well have a good time while doing so.
And so it was, that the plane trip turned into the high in the sky party that most of them couldn’t remember anything about. What happened, thereafter, remained forever confined to the carrier as it buzzed its way towards England.
Tue Nov 25, 2014 6:07 am 
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