[color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Delta Hyper Interview[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] As a change of format, from previously bespoke interviews, to then Delta Hyper's post race interviews capturing their then reactions to the race, one last question followed. A quick question, more of a question that got them thinking after a bit of reflection, perhaps upon getting home, or to the factory. A couple of days at least of time sunk, for a little reflection. The question felt weighted, as Aurora looked over to the person on the couch or seat, a last takeaway for the pilots- specifically, the grid of new pilots that had come in. [b]"So, last question for Auckland. After your first race in the championship, is there anyone you would like to say thanks to?"[/b] [hr] [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Ex Machina[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] [center][h2][i][b]Layla "Yalla" Al-Nadir[/b][/i][/h2][/center] [center] [h1][b] Auckland, Aotearoa //// New Zealand 2100 NZST [/b] [/h1] [/center] [center][img]https://media.istockphoto.com/id/1394940158/photo/cold-water-and-ice-cubes-melting-under-the-sun-background.jpg?s=612x612&w=0&k=20&c=2cpHeXsbr5FO9_eQVHpJMNU1KGLgZ3opOlQh1QhZukU=[/img][/center] [b]Soundtrack: [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TOH-EdGf1Qk]Georgia- Never Let You Go (Skream Remix)[/url] [/b] Sitting in the ice bath within the Zygon paddock, out of sight of cameras, Layla put her head back, the cable running into her neck once again, as she looked almost spaced out. Almost like someone had her on a diagnostic mode, rather than a human being. She was still in her race suit, given half of the mods inside were basically part of the same system, as were her artificial limbs Maybe a bit bulky in this water, but, not like she had far to sink. She was in a reflective mood, the holographic display in front of her displaying telemetry, and this moment of peace giving her time to think. For most, an ice bath was just a way to cool off after the intensity of a race, perhaps most of all in the desert, but in autumnal New Zealand, perhaps less common. Layla's setup in particular, perhaps unlike others, mandated this. Running various neural modifications to handle a craft like Al-Saqr's for her context meant quite literally, overclocking her body like a CPU. Layla was not someone who had exactly gone subtle on mods- she saw herself more transhuman than flesh and bone at this point, and that feeling was one she eschewed more than anyone. Even Nora, who had come in with strips on her spinal column, or Bea, with her liquid breathing, Layla just looked at that and thought how she could replace her spine wholesale or her lungs for something better. While people like Harrison were keen to fix the world, Layla wanted to find out just how far she could go, she was a futurist, after all. The budding doctors and biotechnologists of Al-Saqr basically had a canvas from her to work with, and in a way that almost would seem strange- she seemed oddly content with being that guinea pig, given it meant she could be something beyond what a normal body could achieve. Working on the Moon had given her an appreciation for the fact flesh and bone was definitely didn't work there. Radiation, the unrelenting feeling that everything wanted to kill you outside of the husked out lava tube like the lack of oxygen, an atmosphere, gravity, that sort of thing. If Harrison believed that humanity needed to fix the mess it made, and many billionaires had their view that way, Layla was the poster child for the opposite. Untapped, unstoppable accelerationism, towards a singularity where she wanted to become like the sand she adored in Wadi Rum. But unlike a certain billionaire from over 70 years ago, Layla was actually able to back up her beliefs by wearing them. She'd seen some incredible stuff, studied more herself and then raced and tested harder. Nearly died a lot for it. And found out just what being transhuman was like. She wasn't on paper the fastest, she knew that in deep in her soul, but....when you wanted the absolute top mods, you raced, and well, it was an opportunity she could not turn down given her innate talent before she'd been adorned like this. In a world where they'd somehow dodged all the bullets from the world before, Layla wanted singularity, more badly than anyone. To be freed of the shackles of a human body, the limitations of one, and from there, see human beings become what perhaps they should, into the furthest stars. But for now, she had to make do with a body that was melting ice in here and the pain that came with needle-like points in her limbs and torso came from just being human in a freezing cold tub of icy water. Pilot mods are an exceptionally hard thing to balance, render and control. Layla's voluntary limb replacement was one thing given she seemed dead set on transhumanism, but under the skin of any pilot lay a network of modifications from the very blood, bone, muscular-skeletal systems to even the neural links and nerves that expanded everything that a human being could be, thinking faster, reacting quicker and going longer. Tailoring too for each one, from greater endurance, to absolute strength, to providing a lung capacity like a Papuan free diver. When the doctors ran out of diseases to treat and human lifespan extended past 100 as an average, you ask yourself- what more can a human be? And well, getting a fair balance between them was tricky. Some, like the European Union limited neural mods to the brain and nervous systems, but allowed more prosthetic and skeletal mods, whilst the Arabic Union seemed to have an almost....well, open book on them. Do what you will, but don't make clones, or mess with AI in people's brains. Not a great idea that, given a neural link was effectively a conduit into the human mind, shit, enough rules existed around social media with exceptionally good reason now, no need to be able to think stupid too. Pilots made their selections, with pluses and minuses, and Formula AG had to make assessments frequently on what crossed the line, and what didn't. They were at the absolute cutting edge, and most people on the street couldn't even dream of some of the capacity they had. Physical training of course, was always required to stay fit and sharp as well as make the most out of it, but nobody understood entirely just how far pilots pushed their bodies, or could choose to. Sometimes it was personal preference, even some of Layla's mods seemed to be a rejection of her mortal self that served zero practical purpose, whilst others, like heart and bone density mods, were just easy picks with relatively few drawbacks. Yet by the same token, mods like that had helped humanity an awful lot. Even for the most fervent anti-augmentation activist, nobody could deny that restoring sight, mobility, feel, even curing degenerative disease had been a world-changer since the wars of over twenty years ago. War pushed things forward in medicine in leap-years, and people realised now that what was initially a fringe bit of technology for a small group had become invaluable to an awful lot more. Most importantly? They were open-source, and printing an working, functioning arm was like printing paper given 3D printing meant you could literally dream something and have it. Medicine had gone from an elite practice to one that felt more like writing an app at home, and whilst certain safeties had to be adhered to, virtually free, cheap meds through good market regulation and research had gotten to the point where human beings were no longer restricted by disease or illness, anywhere. In the same way food production exploded once the Haber process had been discovered, human health now had basically had its fixes found. Much like the story Layla read about Alexander Knight's daughter. An interesting process that, that was a race-grade augment she knew Kofi had been playing with a year ago. What would almost certainly be a death sentence, or close to it, was now just a surgery away if achieved in the right place. A majority of Layla's mods predated the Formula AG set, so of course, what she could continue have done to her was almost like a cheat with its own exceptions- after all, those mods needed themselves, changes, and well, that allowed for her to be where she was, even if it meant she caught a ton more heat for it and needed a much more thorough test at the start of each season. It kept her up against the bigger teams, normally, that would have meant she'd have been lower in the grid, but it was a mutually beneficial arrangement for Al-Saqr. Of course, the more mods you ran, the more you were like a machine, not a human being. And that came with complications. Complications you couldn't exactly undo easily. Like sitting in an ice bath because your body cooked itself over from running the literal processing brain of the human body faster than it should have, and that itself could be more a curse than a gift. Or perhaps realising that one tweak to an arm you could get away with was actually not producing any results and was actually quite painful, and it felt like you were just....well, swinging a dead lump. Anyone else willing to push themselves was on the edge of that, and developments would not always be successful- like a ship, they needed time to work out the problems or the technical issues before they worked. Layla had a lot on her mind. Perhaps Kais was out here like some super-soldier to give a comparison to that. The intensity of him clashing with her optimism, or at least, all the stuff that was barely hidden beneath his skin. Born, not sculpted under a knife. Artificial versus another artificial. Whatever it was, Al-Saqr was investing itself there and wanted to see how they'd get on and make the most. Layla knew there was a place for flesh and bone, test tubes that they'd long since banned, yet secretly kept open. But that was fine by her. Another step before finding the end of the line. Layla appreciated the quiet, and the reflection on all of it, from the rushing race to this now. Kais's aggression, the look he had in his eyes, as if there was a bird of prey that had possessed him. Pure, unadulterated rage that felt built in. And while he was someone she could laugh at, poke fun at, stand as somewhat an equal, she knew that past came with a need to find control. And she hoped he'd find it. Friends were needed in AG, even if she couldn't really talk. Then Nora....bloody Nora. How had she won exactly? The ship was lightening fast, ridiculous almost on the straights, but Layla couldn't get her mind around that control. Nora felt like she lived even harder on the edge than Kais did, and holy shit, that was something. Han was a possible threat too, a Kais yet in perhaps a manicured outfit than a need to rip limb from limb. And so too was Wedge and Ulrich, Valkyrie when they got their shit together, and the people that were all too willing to take the top of the midfield for themselves. And maybe more. Nadia came around the corner, with Layla broken from her trance, the intern keen as ever, albeit still freaked out by the Jordanian steaming off in the ice bath. "Sorry, Layla. Scrutineering are here." Layla sighed, as the two FIAR staff came over, the Al-Saqr racer clambering out, sighing, pulling the cable out. It had to end at some point, even though it was really, really cold in the evening. It would have been fun to have a blocker for that, but well, Layla reasoned that for her own health, probably recognising an ache or pain was better than numbly hurting herself later. "Sorry to bother you, but it's the usual check. Are you okay to walk and get scrutineered?" "Yeah, all good." Layla sighed, as one of the techs brought the cable out of their tablet, and plugged it into Layla. "Right. Let's take a look at you. Craft passed scrutineering, by the way. So let's see if you do as well.....right, diagnostics are in. Won't take a minute." With it, one tech looked through Layla's "software", if you will via her bio-monitor integrated into her neural link from bloods to nervous system functions, the other physically checking over Layla, from head to toe, running a scanner across her, checking her limbs over for any hidden actuators, her heart and lungs, then her mostly synthetic liver, kidneys, bladder and pancreas. Layla's body almost appeared hollow on the scanner, the caramel skin that she had probably the only indicator there was someone that wasn't fully made of composite. She'd looked into replacing that too with a ceramic blend, but realised right now, the tech wasn't quite there and being made of just mesh would be.....urgh. The technician also took a pinprick of bloods from her neck with a smart syringe, peeling it out and checking for any illicit substances or enhancers that weren't permitted. The allowed ones always came through blue, any other substance, a black. With a scan through her legs, the golden-sheen having prosthetics masking a complex actuator and movement system that Layla adored for AG racing, versus her other legs that were better for spacewalks or running, the officials were about done. "All fine, in adherence to your exception. We are clamping down on inhaler use too, so if we find any substances related to perception control on the blood test, we'll have some very serious words. You know why we got hot on that, nearly made one of the Juniors go blind." "You sound like you're selling it more to me than anything." Layla barbed back, a grin on her face. The racing was fun, but the real sport, was arguing with scrutineers. "Well, rules are rules. You keep us busy enough, Layla. There are 19 other pilots that would turn themselves into you, and we need to go look at them too." He sighed, almost as if he'd been here before. "Yeah, but not for Amy." "What?" "Nothing! Have a good evening." Layla grinned, turning around, knowing she'd won that argument. They didn't bother, as Nadia led them away, with their results in hand being all they were here for, and now, their business was complete. Amy was no better than Layla really. Just better at hiding. [hr] After an incredible race at Auckland, it's time to go home. Back to base, and the pack up operation is captured on Delta Hyper's cameras, while most people have turned off their viewers. Container by container, block by block of modular design shipped off, and taken away to be shipped to South Africa, with the ships going to their home bases first. The scene shifts, and well, we are given a view of many different factories in cut. All in different parts of the world, scattered. Silver Apex's facility in the British countryside, right outside of Silverstone and the green rolling hills that somehow, are exactly the same as they seem to have been for hundreds of years with country pubs, villages and fields that are now being rewilded for the most part, with a few intensive vertical farms in other places. It's not actually that tall, more like a gigantic, enormous Amazon warehouse. But the design itself looks like something dropped from NASA, glass fronted with a clean-room aesthetic inside. Old F1 cars of course harken back to a past, but it's possibly the most gleaming, space-age looking place you've seen, virtually looking like it fell off the set of Star Trek rather than just a future. Southern Cross's on the other hand, was a bit more functional. Sitting on an industrial estate outside of Christchurch, outside a gigantic, sprawling network of vertical farms occupying the dead-flat Canterbury Plains- the breadbasket of the Pacific, but the towering Southern Alps are in the far background. It's being renovated bit by bit, so still is undergoing work but it seems to be coming on, but the punk aesthetic of Southern Cross bleeds through, custom paint on the walls of pilots past, trophies won, and depictions of iconic moments, in a way that yelled out to a history. While a precise lab, it also feels deeply....underground. Art litters the walls quite literally everywhere, and reminds the team of where they came from, what they are. Less factory and design facility, more like a chronicle to all things speed, power and the Whanau, or Family, of Southern Cross. There's old F1 cars from McLaren, perhaps a long ancestor of Southern Cross, and then other AG prototypes around. Valkyrie's facility sits on the edge of Aachen, itself a beautiful, city, with trams and almost an untouched aesthetic since the time of Charlemagne and at the border of the Netherlands and Belgium whilst sitting within Germany itself. Aside from a few touches, like the e-hover scooters, it's an impeccably clean city, greened out and with zero traffic inside of it bar the occasional delivery drone or automated truck. Much like Valkyrie's HQ, situated on a patch of land on a hill outside, a modern concrete construct that looks equal part space-lab as it does campus, with sprawling buildings. Zygon, meanwhile sits outside of Seoul in Songdo District, and the incredible, almost borderline insane density of Seoul is given away to the bustling planned tech and green city there. Zygon's facilities are shared with Ji Motors sprawling plant, harbour and orbital facility, and every bit of the inside may feel clean room like, yet outside, feels more like watching the heart and soul of high tech manufacturing churn, even with the forced "green" that came from Songdo's copy of Central Park. Despite how oppressively corporate it was, there was a certain peace to it- an ornate juniper and Korean-styled garden, and a feeling that whilst still of course, oppressively corpo, there was some appreciation of the history at least and it made for a lovely lunch stop. Al-Saqr, meanwhile, avoided Abu Dhabi's sprawl and was built on a synthetic island, protected by a wide range of mangroves and sea walls against sea level rise. The facility was effectively brand new, and despite Al-Saqr's feeling being much more driven towards acceleration, the greenery and palms throughout the exterior made it feel more tasteful, but only hid the precise laboratories and clean rooms, as well as engineering arrangements inside, even if the palm trees and mangroves outside contrasted. Nordic Call had Lulea, Sweden to call home- and the vast pine forest gave way to a pair of concrete block, one an automated factory, the other Nordic Call's premises that whilst close to nature, had a similar vibe of its own. A Swedish minimalism, perhaps, because where there wasn't wood, there was stark brutal concrete. But nothing else. It was the same as it always was, a nordic wilderness that invited in greenery. Miller Motor Racing had facilities sat in Montreal, a highly-urbanised, high tech city that had begun to compete with some big tech hubs in the rest of the USA since climate change and conflict had driven people north into Canada. Combined with immense mineral wealth and technical capability, the contrast of Montreal's almost ancient French Quarters compared to its modern tech made for a contrast, and the facility itself was a clean, modern site that had just undergone a lot of renovation with an overlook of the city's grown skyline, old and new mixed together. SuperCat was based out of Mara City, a brand-new eco-development in Kenya on the Indian Ocean coastline, towards the Somalian border. As a free port and trade zone, it was now competing with much of the world with a highly intelligent shipping port and maglev cargo that could sucker material and people out from Kenya, Rwanda and Ethiopia to the coast. Using environmentally friendly clay and render design, it almost looked like a classic facility, albeit the inside was cutting edge, as per any other team, the clean and modern function actually bringing an eco-topia paradise to some sort of life, even beyond the industry. Then Carrera Condor, on an old ranch outside of Buenos Aires, not even too far from the main circuit of the city, sat as a modern, clean looking facility built about five years ago. The endless Pampas and green fields still seemed to litter the landscape, even in spite of the surge in development Buenos Aires had gotten- becoming a veritable sprawl that felt more like Kowloon than it did its old South American self. It was arguably the most "cyberpunk" of all the cities- dirty, unclean and full of people wanting to make their fortune in mining and the hills to the west. Lastly, Fitzroy Orbital sat outside of Sheffield, United Kingdom, in a quiet little industrial estate, and by comparison, was a much smaller facility. A warehouse with a very unassuming angle to it, compared to the rest of Fitzroy's operations, it felt almost like it was hidden. That was because it basically was- an old AG team bought out by Fitzroy, and since, not much had been put into the facility. The Yorkshire feeling was there from the staff though, and you could tell there was a certain....Northern charm to the place. [b]Where was your pilot, or Team Principal? Before going back to work, debriefs, factory support, design team assistance, neural simulator time, and all that- and no doubt in very quick succession, given there was about a week of turning it around, they had home, friends, and a short R&R to have. Of course, a line of work at the factory could be done virtually through a haptic and holographic pairing, but, it always paid dividends to see the team on the frontline in the shop, plus the drones, robots and all. After all, they were fixing everything up.[/b] Up until now, we've seen the pilots, the professionals, the hardcore competitors that gave it all on track, and will do so in two week's time. [b]Most of all? Every single pilot had their dilemma. And they now needed an answer. How they answer, how they address their situation and go forward, may well pay dividends in Cape Town. What that meant for their teams, of course, would be displayed when we arrive there.... [/b] [hr] [color=teal][center][h2][i][b]A Mutual Thing[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] [@Starlance] [center][h2][i][b]Somewhere very, very far above the Atlantic Ocean[/b][/i][/h2][/center] [center][h2][i][b]Amy Stirling[/b][/i][/h2][/center] [center][img]https://imageio.forbes.com/specials-images/imageserve/620a5ca7309af58b6b77d907/Design-Q---Aerion-AS2---Skyscreen-copy/960x0.jpg?format=jpg&width=960[/img][/center] Amy looked across to Bea, as the private shuttle, basically a VTOL-equipped hypersonic private jet clambered to altitude. Very, very high up to a point where it felt like they were closer to the edge of space than anything else, with the tablet and the idea her marketing team had come up with displayed out from it, on the table across from her, in the super-comfy, plush chair she sat in. She'd just finished up a tasteful looking leg of lamb, the fact it wasn't printed or food processed pointing to the fact it must have cost a pretty penny, the elegant looking British-Korean dressed in black sweats and a white arm-cut top, a rather casual look for someone as rich as her. Even if the deal fell through it would’ve been worth it for the lunch alone, Bea thought as she lounged in the seat in a more ‘public appearance appropriate’ jeans and t-shirt combo. She couldn’t help but smirk at the memory of the Pridwen Solutions logo she saw on the shuttle’s engines when they boarded - small victory over Fitzroy Orbital, despite receiving a bit of a thrashing from them on track. The pleasure part done, she leaned forward, listening to the offered deal. "So, that's the crux of my proposal. We sell some art at a charity live auction in London, get some marketing clout, then draw a little, together. I have a stream engineer that can chat to yours. Gets us some attention. You have been on an awful lot, and well, what better way for our brands to boost our respective aims….I know, it seems like you're asking what the catch is. Believe me. I just want to return the favour for some favours. It’s a mutual thing considering your dad's previous involvement at Apex." Amy smiled, sipping back a little more Dom Perignon. Champagne never got old. [color=#1EFF24]”I’d be lying if I said talking to someone with your reputation without a lawyer behind my back doesn’t feel like juggling live grenades.”[/color] Bea grinned. Although at worst it would be a learning experience and it’s best to learn early. [color=#1EFF24]”Send me details on the charity, I thought I’d make custom pieces specifically for it and tailor it to their focus. Landscapes if it’s nature restoration, maybe avoided disasters if it’s a safety thing etcetera.”[/color] "Noted. It’s one close to me actually. It’s a restoration scheme in the Scottish Highlands. A small charity. But, I don’t always flow where the rivers go these days. And I can’t deny I like it there. Cass will wet herself if she found out. So, between us for now, yeah? The solicitors get involved after we say we’re good. And usually, when we print them a bit of exposure, they don’t really mind!” Amy smirked, the grin on the late 20-somethings face nodding, knowing the apprehension between them. [color=#1EFF24]”She’ll never get me alive.”[/color] Bea nodded at the secrecy, [color=#1EFF24]”Scotland’s impossible to dislike and the Highlands are always picturesque, although most of my memories of it smell of gasoline.”[/color] Amy giggled, knowing full well the rally history Bea had there. “No doubt. But there’s plenty more to it than pine forest and gravel tracks. Scots Pine restoration was a hell of an effort, and there is a lot more to do. So yeah, not a bad cause to be involved in. And well, sounds like you have that sown!” Amy chirped, a smile coming easy from her, as she sighed, sipping a little more champagne down, knowing Bea had some looks on why Amy cared, given all most people knew was an android-like figure that was win at all costs. In the privacy of the shuttle, she could at least talk somewhat more naturally. The fact she wasn’t sharing this with her team-mate, Jamie was more telling, but perhaps to some extent, she seemed to want to pick and choose. Jamie was a rival. Bea was what Amy remembered being ten years ago. She almost saw some of it in her. [color=#1EFF24]”Pine forests…”[/color] Bea set down the wine and got out her phone to take quick notes, [color=#1EFF24]”Maybe some split canvas, like a before and after comparison. How much money is getting thrown around there? Wondering if I should make some bigger and some smaller so even people who have to reach deeper into their pockets can bid?”[/color] If she could do less work to be able to raise more money, well, absolute win. [color=#1EFF24]”Speaking of painting together, do you paint? I’m thinking the less you know, the more fun that will be.”[/color] Amy shrugged, knowing the answer to the former was not so easy. “Auctions are hard to read…..but there’ll be a few people wanting the flex, something for their walls. You know this already, but the one thing you can’t fake is authenticity. The real. So people will pay for that. Enough to cover the charity’s expenses. And probably then some. You can sell merch, Bea, hoodies, t-shirts. But nobody pays like someone who wants exclusive...” Amy smiled, knowing very well that this was going to be a surprise, and well, she’d gotten a rise. “That’s actually why I asked, funnily enough. So, you have the honor ... .no, privilege, of showing me. I promise I won’t do some sorcery beforehand, like dumping all your content into my brain before we start.” She came back down, sitting on the chair again, pouring out a bit more from the bottle, and some more for Bea, before sipping more down, a visible smirk still glowing. [color=#1EFF24]”I’ve got five years of tutorials if you don’t feel up to the challenge unprepared.”[/color] Bea decided to be a bit cheeky as she noted ‘buy bigger canvases’. [color=#1EFF24]”Probably best done at my place if you don’t mind, dedicated studio with streaming setup and all.”[/color] Amy smirked in response, nodding. “Old school. I like that, none of this remote stuff, keeping it in house on a canvas there and then. Makes it more real.” She giggled, as she sipped down a bit more, sighing. “It's difficult having so many lights on you, Bea, but you hold yourself well. Everyone wants to know what you eat, drink, and they probably already do now. Having time for something outside is good….and drawing like you do, it’s a good one to have. Most of the grid have theirs, they won’t admit it so well.” With it, Amy stood up again, the sight of the curvature of the Earth outside the shuttle's window, as she sipped down some more champagne, the private shuttle not going exactly into space but high enough to get a glance of the infinite blue below. "And, while I'm at it, I'll put in a good word back at home. No promises. I might be able to get you some tech. Your dad was pretty nice to us during his sponsorship run. Now his daughter's at Carrera Condor, I get the feeling that he needs to put some focus elsewhere. But you know. Girls run the world and all that stuff." Amy giggled, interrupted by a bleep. A notification bleeped up on the display. Landing in 30 minutes in London. “Lucky we share a home city, don’t we? Not far to go.” To Bea, this would seem rather strange. Why was Amy committing resources to Bea, even a promise like this? A rival? It seems almost bemusing, because what she was asking for in return seemed so limited really. But then again, never look a gift horse in the mouth. Yet Amy always had her reasons. They weren't negative, not for Bea, at least. No, they just helped stir the pot more. And well, Bea’s rising stardom was always a light to catch to keep her in the conversation. After all, being the face of the sport meant making sure you stayed in it. Machievellian, yes, but ultimately, it’s what anyone else would do, right? With the glass-outlined phone, she tapped a few things in. “Sent you the proposal. Show it to your solicitors or lawyers, get it checked, and we’ll go from there. We won’t have long to turn it around.” Bea did wonder about all of that. Well, most of that. She definitely didn’t think they were considered rivals to Silver Apex. That would come a year or two down the line, she thought with an inward mischievous smile and maybe a dose of hopium. [color=#1EFF24]”We’ll try to push it along. Either I’ll send you or your technical department the contact or our technical director will reach out himself.”[/color] A memory from a related sport’s distant history came up, the words ‘Pink Mercedes” coming to mind, but as long as it was the guts so to speak it all should work out fine. Amy smirked, seeing her pick it up. “Let’s just see. No promises.” The Silver Apex racer reminded, knowing this scheme wasn’t a done deal. But, maybe it would be. Depending on of course, how that conversation went. Secrecy was incredibly important, but she had her own reasons, and well, this was something that if it went well, would pay dividends for Amy’s own needs. And that was enough to get her in the mood. She felt genuine towards Bea, knowing well that whilst a friend today could become a rival tomorrow, having some friends on the grid might be handy. What with the fact she’d become bitterly entrenched with Layla, Harrison not just on the surface but below, having a friend was certainly not something to turn her nose up at....