San Fransisco, California 15:34

It wasn't a hot day but everyone was sweating, this was quite normal for most people it was the day of the preliminary races. A sort of a induction league of races to determine who the final players would be in the famed Risk Rally GP. This was the week that most casual views tuned in, because this is where the most people would die, usually in vicious collisions or spectacular explosions, this is where the sponsoers would make their money, and this is why everyone (apart from a few psychos) was sweating.Mech-Mick was't sweating though, he had a job to do, a job that he had been doing for 4 years now. Doing a vehicle check and sending the racers off to their designated racing areas for the starting points. The racing lobby was quite a and attractive area, and after leaving the garage area where all the vehicles were being docked, Mick entered the lobby to grab a coffee and see the drivers.


Mick made his way to the coffee machine walking past a few waste-lander types who were probably from Arizona or New Mexico they wore dusty overalls and drank from their own canteens. They probably wanted to avoid government funded beverages. Which Mick found ironic as they were in a government funded race to the death. But he didn't dwell on it. He also noted the obvious criminal types who seemed to be huddled round a circle of black leather sofas. Smuggling operations were rampant in the prelims, as its one of the perfect covers to transport goods from different places, and contraband wont always be picked up in a routine vehicle check. The Yakuza and various Ex-Black Ops types were the main offenders of this and their impeccable black suits almost made them camouflage with sofas they choose to commandeer.

There was an assortment of random other individuals and freaks, along with your usual depressed businessmen, thrill seekers. C-list celebrities and racing purists. Just around 70 people in total in this lobby alone which made up a tiny percentage of the 75,000 preliminary racers in lobbys all across the west coast and mexico. Mick continued walking while sipping his coffee and scratched his beard as he approached one of the drivers.

Are you Rock Eagle? Because I've done a routine check on your vehicle and found cocaine all across the dashboard. Now, lord knows you arent the first driver to have drug traces in your car....hell, you arent the fist this afternoon, but you wont be able to continue if you get caught by an official. Luckily for you, I'm freelance. So clean it up before the races start, the garage is still open. Your car is parked right next to The Daedalus in lot A-3 I think Tavish Macintyre is down there waxing his windows. Tell him I said he has to return to the lobby to get his racing permit back off security.

Mick sipped his coffee and turned towards the large TV screen, hoping the race announcement would start soon so he could clock-off.

Rock Eagle -- Lobby

Mick's warning pleased Rock Eagle greatly. It had been a long time since he'd met a fellow mechanic. Sonny and him could probably have a long conversation about the merits and complexities of muscle cars. It took only a smile and a nod to Sonny and Cinderblock, both of whom were at Rock's side and listening to what Mick said, to whip up a plan of action.

Sonny, Rock, and Cinderblock casually made their way over to where Mickey Hallory was standing. Rock circled around to face Mickey while Sonny and Cinderblock moved forward to stand at both of Mickey's shoulders.

"Hey, buddy!" said Rock. "Thanks for letting me know about that whole 'cocaine' thing. If the big guys had found out, my goose would've been cooked! Only, we've got a slight problem, here..."

Rock nodded to Sonny and Cinderblock. A pair of meaty arms wrapped themselves under and around Mickey's shoulders.

"We don't appreciate people trying to frame us." Rock's fist crashed into Mickey's kidneys like a truck at a destruction derby.

"Do you think we're stupid or something? Rock growled. "I know none of us do cocaine, and I know the government wouldn't hire random freelancers for a big race like this!"

"I see two explanations here: either you're stupid and you thought you could pretend to be a legit engineer who just so happens to be a "freelancer", or you're lying and you're an actual employee pretending to be a freelancer so we wouldn't ask questions!"

Rock grimaced. This move had gained them a lot of attention from the others in the lobby, but he didn't care. So long as Rock could wipe away even a tiny amount of corruption from this glorious country, he'd be completely okay with it. The fact that a scumbag like this guy would not only take a job to get a racer disqualified for possessing drugs, but then inform that racer that he did it, was abominable!

"Who hired you, huh?!" Rock shouted, blood rushing to his head. "Who had you break into my truck and plant drugs on my dashboard? Don't make me get angry, man!"

Tavish hummed to himself as he cleaned Daedalus. If he was going to die, he was to die in a good looking vehicle, goddamnit. That Irish Mechanic had given his car a once-over but had found no problems. He might have said something about having to report to the lobby, but Tavish decided he'd wait until someone came for him. His car wasn't clean yet.

Tavish looked around the garage. An impressive number of vehicles, some normal looking, others looking like tanks. His car housed numerous weapons, but all of them were carefully concealed. He wanted an advantage, so he hid his weapons behind secret panels and things of the sort. There weren't very many other racers in the garage, he imagined that most of them were in the lobby. Of the one's that were here, most were fairly unremarkable. There was a cop, some Russian dudes chugging something out of brown paper bag near a van seemingly held together by duct tape and human will. There was one racer that gave him chills. A clown, in a large ice-cream van sort of vehicle. He sincerely hoped that he'd never run into the clown during a race, something about him made him doubt that the clown would think twice before filling he and his car full of lead and shrapnel.

Stretches of the California Wastelands, were surprisingly quiet. Although it was partially due to Tokyo's Monowheel which glided as softly as a cloud. And it was also partially, due to the fact that the Cally Badlands were a bone-dry hellhole, which wasn't really suitable for sustaining much life. Tokyo only saw one thing that somewhat convinced him that there was some sort of civilization at some point. And that was a glass bottle head that stuck up between some asphalt cracks that were buried under the sands of time.

This was Tokyo's first time in a region of Europe, and although he wasn't sure what to expect. He certainly expected to be more noise. After all, this was supposed to be something relating to the preliminaries of Risk Rally. Tokyo just stared at the vast swathes of nothingness before him, as his googles and mask took in some more dirt from the road.

Bored, Tokyo began fiddling with a radio knob. Not surprisingly, there was little but some static. However after continued finagling with the radio, the thing was buzzing with life, as it played a familiar tune.

It appeared that there were some 'pirate radio' stations out here. Perhaps Tokyo wasn't steered in the wrong direction. It might have just been the direction that he needed to go. And that is when he heard the thrumming of engines in action coming downwind.

Well. The sound of life confirmed Tokyo's suspicions. He was actually heading the right way now, and he knew that it wouldn't take all that long. Surely, the drivers in that caravan of vehicles were after the same prize as him. Tokyo just had to go a little further, and soon would find himself able to do his task.

After all, the fate of Jade Dragons brothers rested with him. And Tokyo, could not afford to fail them.

"Ooh!"
"Whazzat, Suzie-Lee?", the blonde asked, turning to face the direction her best friend was looking.
"We got us a tussle, Betty-Ann! He's gettin' ready to work that boy over real good, too."

Betty-Ann pushed up her sunglasses and pursed her lips thoughfully, watching as Rock Eagle and his partners enacted some bonafide American justice on some sap mechanic.

"Looks like he's jus' yellin', Suzie-Lee"
"Naw, he's gon' keep goin'. Lookit, he's all tense."

The pair watched intently as Rock Eagle continued to chew the mechanic out. Something about blackmail.

"I wanna fuck 'im, Betty-Ann."
"You wanna fuck everyone."

Betty-Ann popped open the plastic cooler she'd been using as a footrest.

"Wanna beer?"
"Sure."

Betty-Ann tugged two cans of cheap lager free from the ice, passing one off to her friend. She watched the trio lay into the mechanic a little more. Lordy, what a dumbfuck. Did he think people wanted him touching their babies? Most of these racers had mean streaks a mile long- or about three kilometers, if you used them dirty European measurements. Point was, if you couldn't take care of your own car to begin with, you'd be out of the race before it started. Nobody needed a mechanic here.

"Speakin' a which-"
"Speakin' a what?"
"I'm gettin' there, Suzie-Lee, dun rush me."
"Ya can't say 'speakin' a which' when ya ain't talkin' ta begin with, Betty-Ann. Don't work like that."
"Well now I's speakin', so you hush and lemme finish."
"Shoot."
"Why's they hire them mechanics anyway?"
"I reckon 's one a' them race fixin' schemes, like they's have an official come in and bang them fancy cars up so's they don't got no unfair advantage."
"Could be, Suzie-Lee. We's gon' have ta give our baby a ten point inspection when we get back ta that there garage."
"Dun' you worry 'bout that, Betty-Ann. I rigged me up a little surprise for anyone comes ta fiddle with it."
"I'm gonna hold ya that that."
"See that ya do."

Riku wasn't in the lobby he was back in the garage with his friends working on the car. He was sitting in a chair slowly turning side and side staring at the ceiling with his headphones on trying to keep his focus. His focus was interrupted when one of his friends named Alice came over and was asking for his advice on something. He was so caught up in the song he didn't know she was in front of him another one of his friends told Alice it's best she not interrupt him right now big moment and all. Once the song was done Riku said he was gonna head to the lobby and wait around for it all to start. Riku had pulled up chair in the lobby just so he could see the large TV "Please let this work out... If not for me at least for them..." Riku said to himself.

The liver shot was pretty good, Mickey got into plenty of fights back in Boston, and he knew a solid punch when he felt one. It felt like his spine turned to jelly and he hit the floor, cursing at the large all-american.

You stupid roid monkey punk! You cant swing on me! I'm staff!! You got enemies who are planting coke in your car? that's between you and them, they don't pay me enough to deal with this shit as it is, what have I got to gain by fucking with you? You realise you are a lot more valuable to the top brass dead on the road in front of camera then in prison right?

Mickey's rant was cut short by the stomp of security boots towards the trio, they were all heavily armed, and wasted no time in apprehending the group. One guard cracked Cinderblock over the head, knocking him out instantly. While wrestling the other two in cuffs. The head security guard pointed his gun at Rock's head waiting for him to resist.

Mickey got back to his feet and held his hand up. Signalling the guards to halt.
Don't worry everything's fine. Just a political debate that got heated. I aint pressing charges either. Let them go.
The guards undid the hand-cuffs and returned to their posts, while Mickey dusted himself off.

Dumb shit, freelancers work in the prelims, they wouldn't risk any precious government mechanics to be seen in a place like this, let alone have to regulate the vehicles of a bunch of psychotic criminals. But They'd happily let a poor Mick from Boston take a beating instead. Nice punch, but you start shit like that again and they'll shoot you. Now clean that shit out of your car. Whoever planted it there can be gotten even with after the race. But we are starting in 20 mins so hurry.

Mick gripped his abdomen in slight pain and walked back to the vending machine to get a chocolate bar.

************************************************************************************************************************

Down in the Garage the announcment was made that the races would be starting soon. So everyone should make last min preparations for the first course. The various drivers began popping their hoods open and doing last minute tune ups hoping to get the best from their vehicles, and calling friends on their families on their phones for wishes of good luck to calm their nerves.

The man with the clown mask Hank St Charles. looked up where the intercom was and started to glance around the garage. He noticed Tavish's very sleek car and walked up to it. Wanting to get a better look. He then suddenly turned to Tavish and looked him up and down. Mister....you're gonna have a bad time today. Hank then drifted back to his own scary looking truck and got inside.