[center][h1][b] Thursday 1st June, 2094 Practice Day Monaco AGP Casino de Monte-Carlo, Monaco 2000 EST [/b][/h1][/center] [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Monarchs[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] [center][h2][i][b]Ava Villarosa / Harrrison Makara / Max Wedgewood[/b][/i][/h2][/center] With Ava backed away from the scene with Kais, she returned back down, catching the sight of Bea in mid-argument with the Princess of Monaco. Fuck, as if this evening didn’t have enough bombshells getting dropped, this was just the cherry on top of the sundae of bullshit that seemed to be flowing out of this evening. And well, plenty was on her mind. The engineer that had shared that with her hadn’t gone any further. Was it him, or was it Amy herself, who was in mid chat with Han? Or something else? Nothing was ever making any sense. But she knew she wanted a full sweep and clean of her systems too. Nothing was to be written off, and that much sat on her mind. With Harrison and Max gracefully bringing things to a close, they at least had stopped the Princess or Bea getting into a fight. How would that work? Bea getting kicked and banned from an entire sovereign Monarchy? Well, that wouldn't bode well. Wedge nodded, pointing to his arm. “I have a bit of a design I’d like to work on. I had this idea, of a wolf’s head up my left arm, traditional black outline. So, I might have some ideas…I’ll drop you a message.” Max added, Harrison chuckling, putting an arm around him. “Pfft, give him a few years Bea, and he’ll lose his arms for prosthetics. Maybe put it there?” Harrison tapped the American’s chest, as Wedge chuckled, nodding. “Okay, well maybe it won’t waste time if I go for that. But it’ll hurt!” Wedge’s innocence was definitely batted back by the indigenous Australian, whose own peppered from his upper arms to his back, a complex and coastal-inspired design. “Well, that’s why they’re permanent, dickhead….” Harrison poked back with an Aussie like grin, the conversation broken up by the Chilean coming into frame. “Are you making drama, Bea?” Ava asked, a direct reply to Bea’s general state, Harrison and Max silent to the fact. She was dead serious, before cracking a smirk, looking over at the Princess, then back at Bea, barely letting her reply. “Of course you were. I need another glass. You boys having some more?” “While it’s on the house, sure….” Harrison replied, and with it, the conversation shifted rather quickly to getting another waitress to bring along another set of glasses to the smartly dressed group. [hr] [center][h2][i][b]Layla Al-Nadir / Kofi Mensah[/b][/i][/h2][/center] As Kais returned down, Layla stood at the bar with a non-alcoholic cocktail, a blood red and crystalline blue mix of berry and orange juices that was going down an absolute treat. Even her synthetic tastebuds were getting rewired to this stuff, it was like a bee drinking nectar, her tone changing seeing him and that look of the weight he had on his mind. Dressed in a burgundy dress that had a poly-coloured tinge of green to it that shone in the right light like a pearl, Layla’s integration of it with her prosthetics and her frame seemed to be like a beautiful combo of man and machine given the almost powdered colour of the gold in her prosthetics. “Kais, are you okay? You spend a lot of time with her lately, I swear. Do not give the tabeloids anymore ideas. I understand, she is your age, but seriously, Ava Villarosa is more cold than me. And between us, she will break your heart. Though, when have I ever stopped you.“ Layla started serious, but let the ice crack, not entirely sure of what the conversation was up there, even in spite of it, Layla at least starting to get some ability to poke away at Kais’s armour. This whole thing was a massive ball, and even Layla, who hated such functions felt like Princess Jasmine herself here, in all the excessive opulence and wealth that this place had. Her mind drifted back to matters at her forefront, as she put the “Nectarine” cocktail back down. “Listen. I’ve had….some weird stuff happen when I was in the ship. The ship is singing a bit more. But not in the way I thought it would. Not here. There were….other things I heard. It was like voices, Kais.” Layla uttered, bringing him in close. “I think I can hear them talking about upgrades. I can’t tell why, but it was like a part of me let it in. So I think Valkyrie are pushing here hard for podiums, and Carrera…they’re not a threat.” Layla whispered, peeling him back. “Does she know anything?” And right after Kais answered, Kofi waved, seeing Kais, waving as he jogged across, quickly breaking the coming together that he had himself, no idea of. “Habibi, how are you? Just the man I was looking for. Forgive me for intruding, Layla…” Kofi’s usual excitement carried as Layla chuckled and played cool, shrugging as she hoped Kofi got none of that, but given how far he was, he probably hadn’t, Layla replying before he did. “You mean the big cat sanctuary in Kenya? Where they have lions and those little African wildcats? The really cute ones?” Layla asked, even her animal lover coming out, given she’d once gotten to know the little Fennec Foxes that had been introduced around Aqaba, it giving a very different side to her deep-rooted geek. “The really cute ones, yes. The deadliest predator in the Sahel, yes! So, I have a proposition. Al-Saqr and SuperCat, we share some technical knowledge here and there. So there was an opportunity, and given your interest, I thought to ask you, Kais, if you wanted to visit. It is a cause dear to me, and I saw you had a liking for such cats from your social media. You are a tough man, yes, but I think a fellow African would be a help. Of course, there is no money offered, but I think it would be up your street, right?” Kofi asked, the Ghanian taller than Kofi and well built, though of course, walking only thanks to his implant that had replaced part of his spine, hips and legs, a considerably low-tech version of what Alexander’s daughter had gone through. But, dressed in a black tux, the Ghanian’s beaming white smile hid nothing but respect, even in spite of that ease of being able to come across as a bit jarring. [hr] [center][h2][i][b]Helena Starcross[/b][/i][/h2][/center] And in the interim, Helena led Paul away, after Dorian left to see the others, the elder lady, the monarch of racing perhaps here, even in spite of her advanced age still remaining rather mobile and civil, as they chatted generally about racing. “So you see, in 2058 I properly quit after I had twins, Lewis and Ellie….that made me finally give up. And now my grand-daughter, Mary is out here in the karts….and she keeps asking me for stories about racing while she’s sitting in the simulator. There are so many more than the ones in my biography....maybe I'll share them with you lot before I kick the bucket.” Helena smiled with a giggle only a grandmother could have, holding Paul’s hand, chuckling at the thought of what Paul was saying about being civil. He was just being polite, perhaps. “You ought to have another drink. It is Monaco, Paul. There are literal royals and you are a VIP here. Go be yourself, and mingle. I remember every evening here like it was yesterday….and I’d give anything to be as young as you, so relish it.” Helena added, turning to him with an endearing smile, being about four times as old as her making those words come with wisdom. “No point talking to an old lady who has no idea about these fancy anti-gravity ships. Let me know when you’re ready tomorrow and we’ll catch up, okay?” Helena put her hands into his, her skin feeling a little shrivel that came with age, as she smiled on that note, and caught another dignitary that wanted to talk to her. [hr] [center][h1][b] Before Qualifying Café Villeneuve, Monaco Friday, June 2nd, 2094 0950 EST [/b][/h1][/center] [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]The High Life[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] Kais's response got a simple nod back from Aurora, the straight-talking Egyptian cutting little imagination in what he meant. "Sounds like you're laser focussed on the racing, and we've come to expect nothing less. What does the rest of this season look like for Al-Saqr, and how are you all feeling about the title chase?" Aurora poked, prized a little with that question, but then again, in the cafe setting, those things could be done. [hr] So too, did Bea's response from Aurora, highlighting her marketability and her activities. "Well, that stacks- your popularity is certainly getting many talking, and we've heard about Carrera's big marketing push here, it seems like your face is everywhere on the grid." Aurora replied, hearing her next reply after her next question about Daniel. "Well, we thought you would say that it seems to have a way of happening....we may have sent him an invite." Aurora casually pulled a Dr Phil level intro, as out of the back, Daniel waved, jogging into set. "Beatrice! I am glad that was the response." Daniel chuckled, the brown-haired, 30-something WRC driver having the camera cut to him, as he raised his cup of coffee, waving to the camera. "Well then! Daniel, what are your thoughts on Bea so far?" "A natural, showing that bravery and she deserves that seat. Perhaps not title winning WRC material, but....she seems to be rather good in a ship. Shame it is not a Valkyrie one, but hey, it proves that four wheels can still translate to a ship!" Daniel replied with a characteristic lip given his involvement in testing Valkyrie ships as an affiliate, looking back to Bea, as Aurora chuckled. "Well, many wondered what a rally driver in an AG ship looks like. We know the rumours about your tentative interest Daniel, but Bea, what would you say the biggest learning curve was for you?" Aurora asked, the rally aspect in full focus in the place where the calendar began. [hr] And Paul, well, he was gushing out too- a lot to take into account. “Lots of people to thank! It sounds like you're in a good position to do so this weekend, a lot of positive talk about the Valkyrie chassis suggests that your team are the frontrunners here." Aurora opened, knowing that was quite an obvious one to point out, but still, good for the fans at home to realise. "After your tussle with Amy at Portimão, do you think you'll be tested? Many pilots talk about that psychological pressure of her being behind you- what's your method of dealing with the pressure?" Aurora asked a pretty expansive question, but once again, knew that was how you got an insight that was more personal here. [hr] "What does Monaco mean? It's....well, it's the most prestigious race of them all. Maybe a bit cliche, sure it's impossible to overtake, the track is bumpy and that impacts the anti-grav setup, it feels like you're in a conga line for most of the race, it hasn't got any strategy nuance...." Amy listed, as Harrison cut in next. "But it is good fun. I mean, this is a circuit of pure commitment. The walls are close, and even with a repulsor setup, any mistake is an instant hit to speed, or worse." Harrison's thoughts were poignant, given the crash, and given how stupidly close quarters the circuit were, hit about right. "Yes, it is special, so special. I love it here. My absolute favourite." Dorian replied with a smirk, cutting to the next in interview. "Our little slice of luxury. And where I look suitably dressed!" Henry replied, chuckling with a reply as best as he could, as Astrid cut in. "A really, really good yacht party. The racing I suppose too." Astrid mused, chuckling, the almost fluorecent purple shirted Faroese pilot all too aware of what it meant here. "A chance to push our ships in a place which barely makes sense. And we were on Luna two weeks ago where I think it was easier..." Layla replied with a bit of thought, as Zygon's punk joined in next. "A place full of rich people and so much money. It is insane really...." Cassie said a bit of discomfort out loud, but no doubt, was not alone in saying that, and pointing the obvious. "Excess, but beauty, truly, this is a wonderful gem and a piece of history." Kofi smiled, Max in the seat after following. "Yeah, it's pretty historic. Really tests our handling!" [hr] [center][h1][b] Round 7 of Formula Anti-Gravity Friday 2nd June, 2094 Qualifying Monaco AGP Circuit de Monte-Carlo, Monaco 1400 EST [/b][/h1][/center] [center][img]https://www.monacograndprixticket.com/images/tribune7.jpg[/img][/center] In the commentator booth, Rory and a new voice covering for a rather poorly Rosie, Florence Mason, of Silver Apex fame, were watching away as the first of the AG ships got roaring out. One by one, they would all peel out, and start a lap of the legends, on a circuit that resembled something even tighter than the go kart track they’d all been on in the Algarve. "Welcome all to qualifying at the Monaco AGP, where we join our 20 pilots at the Mediterranean Sea, and where placement means everything. Fasten your seatbelts, as we’re about to start watching some of the tightest, most impressive footage of the year here in Circuit de Monaco. Florence, how would you describe it around here?” “Hah, well thank you for having me, but yes, this circuit is gruelling. It’s a real test for the pilot, and I think karting in Portimao was honestly an easier move than here. It's so tight in an AG ship, so I am sure we're going to be seeing our pilots give it everything." "Thank you, Florence. And first up, Henry Fitzroy is on circuit, and launches his flying lap..." Florence announced, as the qualifying session began. This one was critical- and in some ways, the race was nearly set on this, outside of some insane overtakes. [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Pushing to Limit[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] [hr] [center][img]https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/56/Circuit_Monaco.svg[/img][/center] [b]Soundtrack: [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Itrmc7BNW5c]Everything But The Girl – Blame (Grooverider Jeep Remix) [/url] [/b] Sliding in, Dorian adjusted the plug within his helmet, clicking his neck as he felt all the systems and the ship come alive, an extension, a piece of him, the black suit and blue-striped, carbon-black like ship a special livery that he remembered on the old Mercedes cars that he raced against in F1, but never against. A thumbs up from a tech and the canopy came down, as did the harnesses, the interface lighting up and making him feel linked in. Every single training session, the gym, the mental training, the breathing sessions. All of it came to now, the ship gently cruising along the Monaco streets, barely meters on each of the ship, the replsor arrays feeling quite strong through every single corner. It felt like the ship had to sing through them, but perfection demanded knowing what was going. "Okay, Dorian, status." The voice of Remy Deschamps was a cool one, the French race engineer chiming in. "We are good. Unit is online, all systems green, ready to go." "Okay, Mr Monaco, as you command." And with it, the crew emptied and Dorian peeled the ship out of the hangar, peeling tight along the impossibly thin pitlane, holding at the red light. As the speed of the last ship buzzed by, Dorian readied up. And peeling out, the ship racked through the corners, slowly, building up the ELS charge, the ship practically fizzing with the stuff. With a neural link, the feeling in one's body was like static electricity, almost like the ship was a golden retriever being held back by a very tight leash, just wanting to leap forwards. It was slow, but Dorian took it in, checking lines, repulsor sections, and basically, getting ready to put down a hotlap. Monaco was a skill in an F1 car. In an AG ship, it required superhuman traits. And even being older, Dorian still had experience on his side. He knew where you could cut tighter. Push harder. And the ship was so stable it felt like it virtually seemed impossible to lose traction in without wanting it to, or at least, it felt like it did precisely what Dorian could almost dream. He just had to think and it did, and his brain kept up due to how smooth it was. And then, with La Rascasse cleared, the voice came through. "Track clear, go time, Dorian." And with that, the acceleration peeled Dorian in the back of the seat, roaring through Sainte Devote through the tiny camber of MAG tracking that stopped the ship slapping into the walls, flat and the needle like precision pulling through Casino Square's slightly angled MAG track, but not enough to hold off the bumps that clattered the ship before Mirabeau, Dorian thinking and peeling hard on the joystick to basically throw the ship 180 in a manner that looked more like going sideways, rather than relying on total grip. It felt planted at the front, but the sheer force threw the thing around like it frankly was on skates, and then, of all the corners, came Grand Hotel, the world famous hairpin where for a 600kph capable ship, it slowed down to barely 80. It was stupid, a massive bank of MAG tracking not allowing for a wall ride but simply to dissipate the energy, the airbrake at full deployment and suckering the ship to the inside of the corner, the MAG tracking allowing for throttle out before a hard shank right came under a advertising hoarding and the fastest part of the track- a perilous MAG track over the Med, adjacent to the Portier Tunnel that was wide enough for overtakes but only with the right line, ELS deployment and absolute sheer bravery that it took to not bin it here. And coming out of that into a gentle right back on the original course, the old Bus Stop chicane was replaced by a straight-up, straight down corkscrew that was amazingly, taken flat but churned the lunch in any pilot's stomach into sick, a long, yet acute hairpin-like corner that then slapped into tarmac and then led into Tabac, Piscine and the insane left, right, right, left that ships had, spectators watching as ships as maximum grip rather than repulsion, the generators at full compression here skating through before slamming on all brakes and going from 150 to 50 in an instant for a La Rascasse with a slight banking on it of MAG strips, then leading into the start finish, the MAG system at full chat and unwinding, the ship nearing top speed thanks to the sheer pulse out of the corner, coming barely centimetres from the barrier as he slammed the brakes and finished the lap. Dorian felt the weight of the pressure slip out as he exhaled all the pent up carbon in his lungs, the radio crackling with cheering. "P1, Dorian, that was a hell of a lap! Where did that come from.....standby for others." There was a palpable, if not sandpaper like feeling in the grid even if you weren't in that fight. Amy clambered out of her ship and was immediately going to the techs after her final run. Jaws would open once Dorian got back, and the process took a while, but the remainder of the laps revealed that his time hadn't been beaten. [hider=Qualifying Results for Monaco:] https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1qF6cn-eA0G0sumgf79TvEnPjOHyQP-vZSFV6LNrn_OY/edit?usp=sharing [/hider] Canopy open, the cheers were noisy as he loosened up the complex harness and stood up, punching the air, clambering over and leaping down the stairs into the hugging arms of the mechanics, who rushed the ship's static position, fists raised, because the results were a dream. This was Valkyrie back on the top step. An expected result, but the ship felt so much tighter, almost ridiculously so here at Monaco and it felt like the best he’d had all season for this circuit. "Let's fucking go, come on!" Dorian yelled, leaping down, giving finger guns to Alexander. “Boss, thank you for that ship, that was on rails!” [hr] With the end of that, Dorian sat in the Delta Hyper sofa again, thinking in retrospect about what it meant. "It was the greatest lap I think I ever did in Formula AG. We had so many problems, so much going on, you know....and in that moment, it all faded. It felt like I was home again." Dorian replied, Aurora smiling back. An older pilot, on his way to retirement setting pole at Monaco in his last race there. That was a story and a half. "And did you think it was a legacy of Felix, or anything else that helped?" Aurora poked, knowing full well the influence of the previous designer’s influence on the handling and stability-obsessed Valkyrie ship. "I am not sure if it was that, but it is always a combination of factors. It was the best feeling ever.” Dorian replied, a smile cracking across his face, as the remainder of the results trickled in. [hr] [center][h1][b] After Qualifying Friday 2nd June, 2094 Monaco 1800 EST [/b][/h1][/center] [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]La Phénix[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] [center][h2][i][b]Amy Stirling[/b][/i][/h2][/center] [b]Soundtrack: [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hf244LCkkLc]Stardust- Music Sounds Better With You[/url] [/b] [center][img]https://media.gq-magazine.co.uk/photos/5d139a6beef92117319ff29c/16:9/w_1920,c_limit/Yacht-GQ-10May17_istock_b.jpg[/img][/center] With Qualy over, the circuit was put back for the extremely limited traffic that now skittled through Monaco’s tight city streets, cars being virtually banned here and replaced by e-bikes, scooters and gravboards, not to mention the AVs that came into the old heliport now and whisked VIPs away to Nice or other luxury hotels along the coast. It was mostly a period of debrief, refocus, and change. Then, the parties, into the late afternoon and early evening night. Most had ended up going to Amy's boat, even if Astrid's was one hell of a drunken shitshow, because Saturday was a day off and well, Friday qualifying at Monaco was a spectacle to end things on. Some pilots may have liked to have done better, and Valkyrie was frankly over the moon- Felix’s old design mostly contributing to a ship that went around the circuit like it was made of gorilla glue, and controllable enough for the pilots behind them. So instead, clambering out of an old wooden-embroidered speedboat, Amy looked back to the camera drone, Delta Hyper invited to this party on a boat. "Welcome to La Phénix. So, you’re wondering how a Monaco yacht party works….it’s very simple. Lots of French house music. A lot of good vibes. Sponsors there getting interviews, and well, it’s a little more loose. So, Delta Hyper, you get a little insight on what we have.” Amy narrated to the camera, because for those at home, seeing the other side and the riches of something this was not often on the cards. And here, there was a bit of a freeform for the pilots to arrive, chat and mingle. Amy was the centre of attention, as were the two actresses from Raven Squad, Madeline Mercer, the sequel of which everyone was direly awaiting later this summer, as well as Keira Weaver, who Bea was no doubt going to fangirl over. If there was ever a moment that highlighted the contrast, Raining Blood by Slayer could be heard at full volume followed by someone getting thrown off the top deck of Astrid’s yacht, followed by yelling, mostly Astrid being absolutely shitfaced with a whole bunch of Nordic Call and Fitzroy staff. It was mostly an act with her, she played on it heavily as the drunk Finn / Faroese of the grid as a gag, and sure, the bio-sciences background that she played with as a second hobby to her racing evened her out with a level of seriousness. Yet there was no denying, in a place like this, with a booze cabinet like this, Astrid went absolutely ham and Nordic Call’s “Borealis” yacht, a borrowed item from the CEO was too good not to clown about on. Most had therefore gone to Amy’s, though of course, they would be able to pop over there to what was basically a frat party on hull. “I know, that’s an exciting party too. But nothing FIAR approved is going on there, ok? I mean….this is a little more…civil? Ish?” Amy shrugged, as the DJ queued up more French house, more bottles of cold beer, glasses of wine and cocktails were about, as were snacks and treats. There was an overall vibe that this was probably as vibey as it got, yet still just about civil. In here, it was probably the best opportunity each pilot had to interact with one another before the race, talk to sponsors, other staff, and enjoy the last moments they had before the race on Sunday. That was right- they had Saturday off to chill, enjoy the sunshine on either their yachts or their accomodation, do sponsor activities or chill out. Many would still be preparing the ultra-efficient ships for the ultra-tightness that made up Monaco, but of course, now qualifying had been set, all eyes were on how Amy would want to chance a move on Dorian, or perhaps how Paul could shock everyone if he pushed on both. Or maybe how Astrid might take advantage of a chaotic crash, like last year with Cassie's big shunt.