Tue Nov 25, 2014 3:15 am by strop
Under the night lights, the cars of the Barely Street Legal League formed two files behind the starting line, engines idling and exhausts spitting smoke and steam in the frigid night air. Crews in each lane bustled around, scrubbing tyres and doing a last minute check. As per venue rules, all the drivers donned helmets, including Kai, who was notorious for forgetting his.
The Gryphon Gear crew had seeded the cars according to the reverse of the current standings, but had thrown their own cars into the mix to make things a little more interesting. As a result, Kai and Sam in the Mephisto and Sleipnir languished all the way up the back row, only closely matched in performance by the Baltazar Thanatos Estate. Seeing as each race would take maybe five minutes to set up, do the burnout and stage (and mostly less than twelve seconds to run), they had plenty of time to argue between themselves, over the radio, because the combined din of the engines was far too much to shout, let alone talk above.
“Hey, what’s the score so far? Two-one my way?” Sam hinted at Kai, flashing him a winning grin through the window. Kai scowled. “Don’t you worry, I’ll beat your ass this race, guaranteed.”
“That’s boring,” Sam complained. “How about we up the ante?”
Alarm bells rang in Kai’s head. This had the potential to get really out of hand, because Sam’s enthusiasm for all things insensible was particularly infectious, especially among the bunch of people doubtlessly listening in on the same channel who were notorious for being insensible. Himself sort-of included. “Uh. How about we don’t?”
“Awwwww what?” Sam’s voice took on a decidedly mocking tone. “Are you a chicken? Bawwwwwk-bawk-bawk-bawk-bawk-“
Inwardly, something ignited within Kai and his eyes lit up with the fire. He gripped the wheel and revved the engine, feeling the body shake. “Nobody calls me chicken.”
“That’s the spirit!” Sam exclaimed gleefully. “So I was thinking we would play for keeps.”
“That’s not even your car, Sam.”
“I know I know, I’m not talking about pinks. I’m talking about something a little more permanent than that.”
So much for the alarm bells. “I’m listening.”
At this point the Gryphon Gear channel lit up with clamouring advice. “Dye your hair green!” “That’s not permanent enough!” “Amputate a finger!” “Are you nuts, this isn’t the Yakuza!” “Genital piercings!” “TESLA!” “But Bianca would love that!” “TESLA!!!” (that one belonged to Kai), “Wait, who’s Bianca?” (and that one was Sam.)
“Wait wait wait guys,” this time Strop interjected. “You haven’t actually figured out how you’re going to decide the winner. You have to do it properly or this forfeit won’t be meaningful.”
“Destruction derby!” Sam promptly volunteered, to which Kai barked “NO!”
“You’re missing the point,” Strop explained with all the patience of a parent lecturing an over-sugared five year old. “We already have a scoring system in place. The only difference is that we didn’t include the Gryphon Gear affiliated cars in the count, because we’re hosting this thing. But we seeded the cars in this round according to the progress scoring if all the cars had been scored. And that’s the system I propose you use.”
“Which one of us is winning right now?” Kai asked.
“You’re pretty much a dead heat,” Strop informed him.
“ALRIIIIGHT!” Sam punched the air with his voice, “I like it! Whoever has the lower hypothetical score at the end of the tournament has to tattoo LOSER on their forehead.”
There was a brief lapse in conversation, and in the background the roar of engines bouncing off the rev limiter and tyres shredding took over.
“I kind of like that,” Hannah said. “Yeah that’s a good one,” Tesla agreed. “Nothing says regret like an indelible reminder of your poor life choices,” Noah added, in his own special form of approval.
“Alright, we’re settled then. We’ll hold you to it when we get back to Australia!” Strop warned them.
“Fine by me.” Kai smirked. “But Sam, remember to make sure the tattoo’s flipped, so you can read it nice and clear every time you look in a mirror.”
Race 1: Škoda Felicia Combi “F3L1C14 C0M81” –vs- Testis
Newcomer Jack Cossack’s Felicia Combi, with its stock 1.3L OHV MPI 8v 4-pot, put out a modest 50-60 horses. Finding this somewhat lacking, out went the buzzer and in went an eight-banger boosted to just over a thousand horses. Just right for its desired purpose, which, apparently, was to rival the ancient Testis for number of people asphyxiated by tyre smoke.
Both cars snaked around on the starting line considerably, lack of traction hampering their takeoff. They were a dead heat at the sixty foot, though the Combi finally hooked up once it had shifted into third. The Testis, tyres smoking all the way down the quarter mile, valiantly hung on, but was eventually beaten to the post by just over two car lengths.
Race 2: Normandy Kodiak –vs- RB-02
Vos had sworn the Kodiak was a new car after its upgrades, but it still looked like a dinosaur sitting next to the brand new RB-02 of Harizvet. Both had no traction control, but the RB-02 had more tyre to weight ratio, and despite only being able to put a fraction of its six hundred plus horses to the tarmac, by virtue of judicious throttle control, was simply faster off the mark, through the initial sector, and all the way to the line. With his foot planted firmly through the firewall in anger, a quarter mile didn’t seem like enough for the Kodiak to really stretch its legs, with no real traction until it was well into third, and had it been the full mile, it might have blown past. But as it was, the winner was the RB-02 by nearly a second.
Race 3: BMW M3 “E30 LS7 M” –vs- Decker Annihilator
Kristina had some real race points on the board, for somehow keeping on the road during the top speed run. With a slightly more sensible build, Sturt Decker Junior’s Annihilator was ahead of its time, with a trick all-wheel-drive up its sleeve. Struggling to launch right, with the boost threatening to run away with the car and steer it into the barriers, the E30 LS7 M simply struggled, whereas the Annihilator put four to the floor and shot off unlike any other competitor before it, slamming through all five gears to pass through the finish line a good deal faster than anything before it, posting the first sub ten time of the day. Kristina did well to post a sub twelve.
Race 4: Leeroy Lunatic –vs- AMW Brimstone
Two rear wheel drive cars with very different approaches. The blood was running hot through both Tom and Matt’s veins, and they both let loose in tandem to pull out massive long burnouts, setting the tone for the race. With the significantly shorter low gears, the Leeroy tuned coupe somehow managed to get into the zone first, drawing the slightest of leads at the sixty foot mark. Every time the turbo AMW hatch changed up it clawed back inches, but the lead grew by feet as the cars barrelled down the strip, and finished at five car lengths, a relatively slim margin considering the cars crossed the line doing in excess of two hundred and sixty kays.
Race 5: Cottam Elegance DA –vs- HFF
This was the matchup of the bizarre. The oversized limo (which wasn’t really as comfy as it looked, judging by Pleb’s face after driving halfway across the US of A), versus the coupe which was front wheel drive when it really ought not to be. That drivetrain choice proved to be crucial in this match, for the HFF made like a rocket: slow to start with lots of fire and smoke, but picking up momentum as it went. The Elegance, on the other hand, had all wheel drive up its sleeve and took off much faster, but had much longer gearing and a power to weight ratio that could be described as deficient only in a place like the Barely Street Legal League. As the HFF picked up speed, the Elegance seemed to slow down, and the HFF started to close the gap at a rate of knots. Alas, Rayyan ran out of track and the Elegance crossed the line by barely three car lengths.
Race 6: Necronia Emperion –vs- AED Griffin
The Necronia was one of the prettiest cars of the competition, and was certainly not lacking for power. However, the Griffin, one of the ugliest cars of the competition (according to Strop, though several agreed with him), was all wheel drive, had more power, and more gears. It took off the fastest anybody had seen so far, blazing through seven of its eight forward gears, leaving the Emperion far behind. By the time blitzed the finish line clocking over two hundred and eighty kays in the first sub-nine time of the round, the Emperion was barely two thirds down the runway.
Race 7: Centauri Vindicator –vs- Dalora Infernalis
The Vindicator had already proven itself to be a well-balanced marvel in the corners, despite its lumbering sixteen hundred plus kilos. The Infernalis was lighter, and had much more power. The paladin held up strongly against the hellish onslaught, its well-tuned setup making the most of what it had to stay even up to the sixty foot mark, but after that, its longer gearing and lesser power became more and more telling as the cars sped up and aerodynamics became a greater factor. Slowly but surely, hell prevailed by a good forty meters at the finish.
Race 8: Ruby –vs- Honda Civic “Peapod” GG Tune
In a battle of the front wheel drives, traction was always going to be a problem. Strop thought that the decision to squeeze the ever-loving boost out of the block would cost him, and for the most part, he was right, the car prone to pushing wide on the corners and letting go if he went too hard on the throttle. But to be sitting next to somebody who insisted on putting fifteen hundred horses through the front wheels, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be around when the car plowed into the barriers. Unfortunately, the ridiculous 2.8 bar of boost causing a surge of torque and his extra-long first gear proved to be once again troublesome getting of the line, and by the time he was properly rolling, Ruby had inched ahead. However, the short spacing of the higher gears proved to be crucial, and he slammed through the next three gears with more throttle, hauling in the larger estate and passing it two seconds before they hit the finish to post just shy of a ten second quarter mile. Pretty damn good for an FF.
Race 9: X90 YCB Yacare ULTRA X –vs- EGT Achernar X90
Despite the loss in the head to head round, Enry was overall very pleased with his car’s strong showing, the all-wheel-drive and rebuilt engine making up for a lot of the natural deficiencies in his older car, allowing him to run in the top tier of the competition across the varied tracks. However, against the crazy mid-rear speed beast of Ybarra Coach Builders, piloted by veteran driver Seba Machado III, he knew it was going to be a challenge. It was a dead heat off the mark, with the sixty foot being covered in well under two seconds. From that point on, the superior power of the ULTRA X took hold, and inch by inch it crept ahead. Even with Enry hitting the shifting points perfectly, the aerodynamics of the ULTRA X kept it in front all the way to the finish, both cars posting blazing sub-nine second times.
Race 10: Raggari Mutant –vs- Banks Debrauna Gumball Edition
Rubik had Mister Greasepaws to thank for the extra power in the engine, and hopefully it was enough to seal the deal. If not, well, there was also the crazy hookup power of all wheel drive, and that ought to keep it ahead of what was now dubbed “The Strongest FR Coupe”. Riley Banks had done something mysterious with that car (it sure didn’t have anything to do with the mysterious ventilation), and there was no telling what kind of upset it would pull next. Fortunately, it seemed those concerns were not substantial, as all four wheels lit up and the Mutant catapulted forth with a screech of tyres and a screech from Mister Greasepaws. The gap opened up wider through the middle section, but peering in the mirrors which their mystery Italian driver resolutely (and rightfully) ignored, it seemed that the Debrauna was closing in at the end! What!? But fortunately they crossed the finish line with over a second in hand.
Race 11: Cadillac Series 62 “The Hulk” –vs- AR.MA. SD-01R
In many ways this was the most anticipated race of the night, mainly for the most powerful car of the tournament, the Hulk, with its unprecedented three thousand plus horses. But it was also the heaviest, and with some of the skinniest tyres in the competition, none of the Gryphon Gear crew were holding their breath over the quarter mile. The AR.MA. SD-01R on the other hand was a dark horse, an extremely competent if slightly dated car hidden underneath an impossible name, and it doubtless had superior dynamics. Sure enough, it was faster off the line, with better traction and shorter gearing. It drew out three car lengths over the first half of the course. But fearless Reece “The Jaws” Parsons gave it the beans, and already flying down the runway at two hundred, the Hulk started smoking all four wheels, bearing down on the SD-01R like a nuclear warhead. The SD-01R lost a car length but clung onto the lead at the post, but the speed of The Hulk as it went by was astounding, well in excess of three hundred and twenty, and it took almost the entire remainder of the runway to slow to a stop.
Race 12: Gemina XIII GTX –vs- Baltazar Thanatos Estate
Two of the strongest cars of the tournament squared off against each other for the first time: the uncompromising road racer, the Gemina XIII GTX, and the fastest estate wagon in the world, the Baltazar Thanatos Estate. One was an MR supercar with superb speed and balance. The other had all wheel drive and tyres so fat the tyre tracks could have been mistaken for a semitrailer’s. One of the rare cars with over two thousand horsepower, the Thanatos concerned itself not for things such as weight, lugging its nearly fifteen hundred kilo frame with the force of a Jules Verne lunar launcher. With the fastest hundred time of the league, even including Gryphon Gear’s own cars, it opened up a crack of a lead at sixty feet, pried it apart in the middle sector, and opened it wider in the closing stages, besting the Gemina by a fraction of a second as both cars rushed past the post doing nearly three hundred.
Race 13: Sleipnir –vs- Ascension Mephisto
The final race with what appeared to be the fastest overall cars in the league ended up being a Gryphon Gear showdown between the two best-worst friends-rivals, Kai and Sam. In all truth, the car most similar to the Thanatos Estate, was Kai’s own Ascension Mephisto. With a similar drivetrain, similar outputs, and similar tyres, the main difference was in the gearing, as the first gear in the Mephisto was long, geared to precisely one hundred kays, which, in theory, gave it fantastic responsiveness in the middle ranges and higher speed sections, but in reality was bloody terrifying spending much of the entire time going through sweeping bends well in the two and a half bar boost range and pushing a potential twenty three hundred Newton-metres of torque. Sleipnir, on the other hand, followed a purer track racer type philosophy, with a huge naturally aspirated V8 that gave it massive torque from the get go, and a nice smooth power curve.
“Remember our bet,” Sam taunted as they inched towards the line.
“Too bad for you, I know the specs of both cars, and it’s not looking good for you,” Kai gloated.
“You’re bluffing,” Sam scoffed. “Nothing beats an MR car for pure speed.”
The lights flashed green and they dropped the clutch, launching off the line. Much to Sam’s dismay, Kai was not bluffing, and he was just that bit quicker every step of the way, to the sixty foot, the hundred kay mark, and indeed all the way down the rest of the quarter mile, pulling out five car lengths ahead as he crossed the line doing precisely three hundred.
“No fair!” Sam complained. “You must have jumped the start!” But the lights were still green, and their run was legitimate.
“Remember, tattoo mirrored,” Kai simply said.
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Two in the morning, and the fog from everybody’s breath was illuminated by the spotlight. The air was abuzz with the excitement of the duels, but now that the round was done and they had to be moving again, there was a sense of urgency. Quickly, Strop called everybody together for a huddle.
“That’s the end of round four. I’ll post the updated standings to you all later, but given the events of this last week, I fear we may have to hasten our departure from America.
“Our fellow competitor Rayyan here has used his connections with Sabre Automotive and the Air Force to offer us private passage, for both our cars and us, on board his carrier. The Gryphon Gear crew will be accepting this offer, but by no means is it mandatory. Whether you do take this offer, or make your own arrangements, is entirely up to you. It’s about a five hour drive, so I’m advised that we’ll be departing at noon, should you accept.
“The only condition is that you arrive at the Dunsfold Aerodrome by eleven o’clock, twenty-seventh of November. We have an appointment to make, and since we’ve already renegotiated the booking, we can’t push it back any further.
“Okay, that’s it for now, let’s move out. Good luck, and Godspeed.”
__________________________________________________________________
“It’s not bad,” Hannah said, her nose scrunched up in appraisal at the replacement van sitting in the car park. “But why does it look like a Ford Transit?” She said disdainfully, conveniently forgetting that the old Gryphon Gear truck was a Ford F-350.
“Oh get over yourself,” Strop ribbed Hannah. “Your days of being a Holden girl are long gone.”
“Hey! It’s in the blood!” Hannah bristled, but with a smile. Gryphon Gear had come a long way since her original vision, a shed in country Victoria, retuning and refurbishing the old VL Commodores of many a bogan and aficionado alike, after Holden had declared their intention to pack their bags and leave Australia after over six decades of automotive history. And promptly laid her off. “Fine, let’s take a look.”
The cabin of the Transit by Normandy was simple, but ergonomic and wasted nothing. The fittings were crisp, the fabrication seamless, and the dials clicked with that satisfying weight of things just happening. A far cry from the so-bad-it-was-iconic Kodiak that Vos had elected to take to the tournament, this was more in line with the vision of such things as the Echo. But in the form of a van.
“Hm, you could put four Mephisto wheels on this,” Tesla mused, inspecting the ultra-wide bodykit. “The ride’s going to be a lot firmer for sure though.”
Noah pressed the START button mounted on the driver’s controls, and the HUD lit up with a soft glow. In high contrast blue, the display belonged more to a supercar than a van. Flicking a few switches, Noah discovered with a start that the van ran telemetry. What kind of van needed telemetry? A quick prod of the gas pedal quickly revealed the true touch of madness: a turbo boost that produced something like, if the telemetry was telling the truth, seventeen hundred Newton meters of torque at five thousand revs.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Noah muttered. “What kind of van needs all the power up in the high end?”
“No, no, I like this,” Hannah said, barging Noah over and settling herself into the driver’s seat. “It has great potential. Let’s get the gear moved over and torch the truck.”
“I’ll get the gasoline!” Tesla yelped, scampering off to find a jerry can.
Minutes later, the old truck was parked in its final resting place in a barren field. Flames consumed its body, licking at the metal and peeling the paint, rising up high into the sky as a memorial to the two and a half years of faithful service it had devoted to the company.
The Gryphon Gear crew stood in silence, the flickering orange lighting their forms. Then as one, they clapped their hands. “May you be plagued no more by rust, may your filters collect no more dust, and your pipes no more leaks,” they intoned. “Rest In Peace.”
__________________________________________________________
Somewhere in Nevada, a blip appeared on an LCD screen displaying a map of the world with an accompanying beep. A sleepy eye cracked open, then the operator of the console stirred, neck cracking ominously as he straightened. He pressed a button, dozens of inset images flooding onto the monitor, and reaching up, he flicked through them one by one. Twirling his moustache, he gazed impassively at the monitor for a few more seconds, then rose, thumbing a device in his chest pocket.
“Time to move. We have a lead.”
In an instant, a familiar severe visage with the pulled back bun materialised from the shadows. “Ready when you are.”
They marched through pitch black and into a dimly lit garage, where a menacing black low slung coupe awaited them. As they approached, the lights flashed on, an unearthly shade of neon blue, and the gullwing doors hissed open, revealing the panels covering a multitude of weapon hardpoints. In the darkness, the letters of the numberplate could barely be read: HASIRA.
“Nobody outruns Agent Black and Decker.”
The engine roared to life, a demonic orchestra of blips and pops and whirring, and tyres screeched as the Hasira powered up the ramp, through a sliding door, and emerged onto the desert highway, the thunder heard long after it disappeared into the night.
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[ooc] Gosh the further we go into this, the more and more story there is that comes out.
Right now you have to make one decision: will you take up Rayyan's apparent offer of passage from an airfield in Texas, courtesy of Sabre Automotive, on a private carrier, direct to a private airfield in England? I'll make this an opt-out thing, so if you don't want to do that and have alternative plans, just RP it here.
Results, as (IC) Strop said, will be posted once they have a moment to get everything documented properly, but right now, time is of the essence. Get moving!
