[IC] Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

[FourtyTwo]

"Down Rashman Khalid Avenue, about two miles out from here. I think the guy has his house towards the outskirts." Ross simply said, as he pulled in himself, bailing out quick and getting the plate from the boot (or trunk), grabbing a aptly placed crosshead screwdriver and pulling off the plate, slapping a new one onto it. Secure, Ross was back in the car, and revved out of the alley, pulling onto the street calmly and quiet. He switched the radio back on, selecting some Rudimental, as the distant noise of sirens became quieter and quieter. They had shaken their lead. Just like in Cali, where they'd saved a street racing friend of Ross's. It had worked, well, it had, just. Right now though Ross wanted to finish this delivery. Taking a left, he didn't drive hard, and stayed quiet with the C63's 6.3 liter V8, not letting it rumble and attract unwaranted attention. It didn't have any major scratches on it, and it fitted in suprisingly well, in this city of riches and wonders.

Pulling onto another larger road, Ross watched as a couple cop cars sped past the other way, not making out the right plates. Or perhaps they were focussed on Kimberly, not Ross's identification. Either way, it wasn't a problem, and within a few minutes, Ross was driving down Rashman Khalid, amongst the mansions that were strewn about, close enough to the beach to make driving pointless to it. Though that said, the houses were incredible, not like Hollywood, but more like just stupid money. A set of golden gates, literally made out of solid gold, and a guard standing by it. That was Sheikh Mohammed Ben Fayed's house, a house that probably had a few extra zeroes added to whatever Ross's best estimate was. Pulling up, he saw Kimberly waiting, the guard coming out. He was armed, and rightly so. Ross let the window roll down, as the man, looking like some South African of some sort, walked out.
"Identify yourselves. This is the Sheikh's Residence, he doesn't want to be pestered..." He said, angry, his Afrikaans accent making him sound like he could turn your insides to play-dough.
"We're here for buisness. The business he entrusted us with in Abu Dhabi. Sensitive things." Ross replied, as the guard nodded, taking his radio, as he then heard the gate buzz. They were in.

Driving into the Shiekh's residence, Ross wouldn't have been if he saw that inside of the pools that were lingering in the front lawn, beyond the huge hedgerow, was dozens and dozens of loose women, all probably wives of this Sheikh. It wasn't, but what looked like the Sheikh's son had at least ten girls in a pool next to the house. This man was stupid rich, and stupidly crazy enough to have all of this. Yet Ross and Kimberly, right here, were doing business. Pulling into the garage, which was left open and on Mohamed's direct orders, a place where the cars would stop, Ross was anxious to find out what now. Stepping out, he saw the Sheikh come through, nodding. The garage was large enough for two cars, and two cars only, this one at least. There was another structure that Ross saw, but didn't concern himself with right now. Maybe it was another.
"Ah, you made it. Good. I heard good things about you two as drivers from my contact. In this world, you must surround yourself with the right people, yes?" The Sheikh said, in his almost perfectly English accent, though of course, the course sand and dust of the UAE sat there, tinged with an Arabic flavor.
"Ross and Kimberly Hartley? Husband and Wife? I must say, you make a beautiful couple. Vroom, vroom! Haha!" Mohamed added, the Sheikh in his white robe, red and white checked headscarf and bearded fashion actually in his early thirties. And definitely an eccentric. Ross didn't know a lot, but what he did know reminded him that this was Dubai, not a different rich man's playground.
"Anyway, you delivered what was needed. What you did deliever, you don't need to know. I got rich out of oil first, then I sold that. Then property. Then it went bust, and I was out before that happened, let me tell you. I know what the riches of this world can bring, and the risks men take to make money. In Dubai, there is many a way of making dollars, and many do involve catering to the more angry needs of a society like ours. If you ever think enough was enough, think again. I mean, my cousin out there has at least ten virgins on his lap..." Mohamed said, as then looked to Kimberly.
"I apologize, Kimberly, I forget my manners sometimes........I...anyway, moving on, I will say to you this. What you did was highly, highly illicit. But you're going to be rewarded for your efforts. Your money is here." Mohamed simply said, pointing to the two duffel bags in the garage, nodding.
"That is $500,000 each. What you carried is worth almost ten times as much, and fits in your vehicles. Again, what it is, I do not specify as it would put all of us onto chopping blocks, and because that cash just talks. The Benjamins, right?" The Sheikh added, as Ross chuckled, aware that Sheikh Fayed was utterly insane at points, totally eccentric, but being a multi-multi millionaire did that to you.
"You're just as insane as they say you are, Sheikh Fayed. I like it." Ross said, as the Shiekh laughed in response, shuddering a little as he opened the garage's door a little more.
"See that building over there? I think payment is good, yes. But I like you both. Such a beautiful couple. And I thought, in my great generosity, I let you have a go with something more. You're petrolheads, yes? Obsessed with going fast? Welcome to the land of speed, where I phone up a guard over in the desert and he....suggests that the road be closed for a few minutes so that a herd of camels can cross. If you get my gist." The Sheikh added, as he let Ross and Kimberly out, leading them across the paved stone that jutted through the garden, this place an oasis. It was total overload, this was lavish beyond belief.

Opening the door, the Sheikh switched on the lights, Ross still feeling the weight from the duffel of cash he had. The room was illuminated by the lights, and Ross realized what this was. It was a tiny place, but it was clear what existed.
"Is that a car lift?" Ross simply said, as Mohamed laughed.
"It is, fuck, it actually is a lift! I mean, it's like a roulette wheel of speed!" The Sheikh replied, as the lights on it lit up, the lift hiding the other vehicles below, but having room above to be fully jacked up so the car at the bottom could be pulled out at this level. At the top, there was an aqua blue McLaren P1 GTR, one that Ross just dropped his mouth at. This was an insane car. Nothing could be said beyond a total mindfuck. It was sitting on the level of the structure here, one that he could just step into now.
"That car cost me....I can't remember what with the diamonds I had stitched into the roof. It is beautiful, no?" He simply said, as Ross laughed, somehow in total shock.
"Ross, I want you to take it for a drive. If you can deliver something so important to me and have it completely intact with no attention, then I suggest you drive this. Or for your wife, perhaps there is something on this lift too. The sweetest and most exotic fruits of the automobile world await!" Ross heard him say, smiling, just lost for words, as he looked to him again.
"Just go. Drive out of the city, south. There are desert roads. I hope you can drive that thing faster than I ever will. Return them back to me in one piece, or your insurance cost will be very high. Not in monetary sense, friend." Mohamed said, as he then burst out laughing after being so serious, patting Ross on the shoulder, the Scot confused but mindfucked.
"Seriously though, don't fuck up my cars. Have fun!" Ross heard, as he walked out, and the Scot just looked to Kimberly, as he ran to the P1 GTR. Clambering in, he drove off the ramp, the engine roaring, filling the small but tall garage with engine fumes and a loud, twin-turbocharged, V8 with a battery sort of sound. He hadn't even gone ten feet, and somehow inside, Ross was as giddy and exited as a 10 year old after a Coke. This was heaven. And he was honestly in shock this was happening. That a test drive in a P1 GTR, one of a handful in the world, was actually going on. He let Kimberly move the mechanized lift, before she got in hers. They would be doing something totally insane, and in addition to the half million in cash that they had, Ross knew that this was truly wonderful indeed.

[Bee]

Kimberly was idly driving about when Ross's voice came through the sound system the BMW had. Just a few minutes ago this same exact car was running away from Dubai PD, but now it was an entirely different parallel. Hopefully nobody would see Kimberly and Kimberly only was driving this car. She wasn't too sure on the rules regarding women driving, but in a country like this, with Sharia Law and all, it didn't bode well for her. It was uneasily quiet for Kimberly. If there was one thing Kimberly had learned, silence was a bad thing. All her life, silence had freaked her out. She switched on the radio and put on some CHVRCHES on the surprisingly wonderful audio system. The Shiekh who owned this car definitely put some money into this car, paid for all the bells and whistles, which definitely worth it. She could feel the bass rumbling the cabin at an appropriate appropriate level. Every word the girl uttered came out crystal clear, all levels. Mid-range, high-range, and definitely the low-range. She wished she had a system like this in a car, she'd do quite a bit with it. "Rashman Khalid Avenue..." She murmured to herself, as she cruised around the streets of Dubai looking for the Sheikh's house. This M5... the Germans definitely knew what they were doing with this car. She loved every aspect of it. Too bad this was only a loan, and in a few minutes she would give it back to its original owner.

The road that she pulled into... it was indescribable. It blew Beverly Hills out of the water. There were mansions lavishly decorated - it was crazy just how filthy rich everyone who lived here was. Gold gates, made out of literal 48k gold. The house was probably more valuable than all of the places she had resided in her entire life. It was kinda hard to tell who's house was who, considering they were all equally as lavish as the other. "Mohammed Ben Fayed... where is your house for the love of all that is mighty?" She drove around for a bit before she found a house with a bodyguard standing outside of a genuine gold gate. She could probably take apart this gate and sell it for enough money to buy a car just like this. The things people do with money. As the M5 pulled up to the gate the bodyguard held his hand out. She didn't know what to do, and it was going to get real awkward real quick if Ross didn't come to her rescue. Ross said a few things to the guard, and before they knew it, it was sliding open and the M5 was driving into the pre-opened garage. As she drove in, the first thing she noticed were the sheer amount of women near the pool. Probably that polygamy thing the Shiekhs had going for him. Besides that, the house was absolutely beautiful. She wouldn't mind living in a place like this. If the Sharia Law thing wasn't in place, she would set sail for this spot. Quite lovely.

The M5 settled in the garage, right next to Kimberly's husband's C63 AMG. Quite frankly, she would much rather have the M5 since it actually had a manual shifter. She wasn't too keen on that semi-automatic, flappy paddle stuff. Like, on faster cars it was definitely better to have, but on something like the C63? A proper manual would be tons of fun, Mercedes Benz were definitely in the wrong for depriving the 6.3L V8 of its potential. As she reconciled with Ross, she hooked onto his arm, threading it through so she had a firm grip on her husband. If one was actually paying attention, it had become very apparent that these two were a serious thing. They had a lot of history together, about two years worth actually. Might've not sounded like a lot, but to them, it was a major turning point in their lives. Kimberly's eyes shot towards the Sheikh as he walked in, his demeanor bringing light into the room. But at the same time, she was also really hoping that he was one of those chill dudes who simply didn't give a fuck about anything but being happy and being rich. As he addressed the two, Kimberly did mumble "Rossi-Hartley..." underneath her breath but the Sheikh didn't hear so that was that. All Kimberly could muster after his light joke was a sheepish, awkward laugh as Kimberly's eyes floated over to Ross, a bit of an indication she didn't really want to be here at this very moment.

The Sheikh was very stereotypical, rich as fuck, no fucks given. But at the very same time, he had a very lighthearted demeanor. Someone that would be a very fun person to be around for many reasons. Mostly money, but a drink would be entertaining. He was also someone with quite the bit of cunning, figuring out ways to keep his riches even with the oil market drying up faster than a puddle of water on a hot Summer day. This dude delved into drugs... and drugs definitely meant he knew what the fuck he was doing. Which meant he could probably dispose of someone right there and then and they shall never be seen or mentioned again if someone were to cross him. Kimberly was so grateful she was on his good side. She didn't want to fuck with a drug lord again. She had honestly spaced out during his long monologue. She didn't like it when people did that, she often found it hard to pay attention properly, especially if the topic at hand was booooring. Her attention snapped back into full detail when she heard the amount of money she would be paid. That was a total of $1,000,000 between the both of them. What it was going to be used for was a good question. A new house? Cars? More expenditures? She didn't know.

Kimberly nudged Ross a bit as he commented on the Sheikh's demeanor. The man was rightfully a tad crazy, but that was what money does to you. As the Sheikh suggested something a little more up Kimberly's alley, her eyes lit up like stars. She knew what these crazy fucks in Dubai had in terms of cars. She could probably see cars most petrolheads would never get to see in person. Dubai was a gearhead's paradise, despite the crazy laws there. Bugattis were not an uncommon sight, and most hypercars were bought and sent to this very place to go to oil moguls. It was insane just how much these guys loved cars. Hell, even the police force possessed cars like the Aston Martin One-77, and the SWAT used Audi Q7s to be transported around. What this guy owned besides the two cars... Kimberly was eager to find out. Hypercars? Classics? Souped up regular cars? She was getting giddy just thinking about it. The smirk on her face was a clear indicator she was eager to have at the car. "I am so ready to see what we're getting our hands on."

Kimberly could feel her arm being pulled down by the sheer weight of the cash she was carrying. It was a burden she was glad to endure. It was half a million dollars. A lot could be done with this. Once she stepped foot into the facility, she immediately realized what she was looking at. It was something out of Tokyo Drift, only much, MUCH more pricey. Kimberly tsked and nudged her husband again as he asked that question, it was blatantly obvious. Had he not seen Tokyo Drift? What a shame... well she supposed he kinda lived it a couple years ago, so it wasn't necessary. Him and his M3... good times. After a few rotations, the look on her husband's face was a look she had never seen before. Kinda disconcerting once one really thought about it. His wife was right there but all he could focus on was that brilliant piece of English engineering sitting right in front of them. Hell once she really thought about it, she figured it was justified to be that way. And he got to fucking drive it! What did Kimberly get? There had to be something better. She watched Ross take off like a little girl as he got the go to get to the P1. She pulled the bags out of the way, stepping clear so Ross had a clear path.

Now it was Kimberly's turn, she stepped up to the lift and operated it, letting it spin until a particular car caught her eye. It was nothing other than a Koenigsegg Agera RS. The fastest of the Ageras by far. It had more power than the P1 GTR, and it was probably lighter. Either way, Kimberly called dibs on this one. Unlike the P1 GTR, this one didn't have any of that pussy hybrid shit. It was pure engine. 5.0L twin-turbo V8 belting out over 1100 BHP. Kimberly put her bag aside and embarked onto the Agera, turning it on and hearing that Swedish V8 roar to life. It was something most people would never hear in person. She pressed the flappy paddle, revving it a bit as she pulled up next to Ross. The Italian-Irish-basically-white girl rolled down the window, "Shall we?" She asked, before pulling out of the facility and towards the exit. This was a once in a lifetime experience and she intended to make the most out of it.

[FourtyTwo]

Ross smirked, as the car roared, looking to Kimberly.
"Let's." Ross said, as he pulled away, the V8 twin-turbo and hybrid combination roaring, very likely being illegal in most parts of the world but not here. The blue P1 was unbelievable, with a reverb of low pressure air around the exaust turning it into a small flamethrower every time Ross pulled the shifter in. It was the most insane feeling, the sound and the feeling in the Recaro seat, that this was a machine built do very much scare the shit from multi-millionaires indeed. Braking, he turned right, seeing the signs for the roads that the Shiekh had mentioned. The roads were square, but Ross knew that would come to an end soon. Taking another left, he put foot to floor, and suddenly, felt as if the car teleported forwards.

The roar of the V8, and the flaming backblast of the P1 GTR was incredible, as the speedo climbed faster than Ross could even comprehend. 100 was hit within a matter of seconds, 150 being something that barely took any longer. Roaring over the tarmac, he turned hard through a curve, the car's enormous racing spoiler creating masses of downforce that stuck the car, as he pulled a left, tyre smoke wailing as he was back on. A little sand was kicking up, as the mid-day sun beat down, the uncooled P1 an incredible car to just sit in and drive. The desert roads soon beckoned, and Ross was already fully aware of what was going to go down.

The car clambered over 150, as he saw Kimberly follow close. The Agera RS was a car that ran on E85 Biodiesel, and was incredibly potent for it. To put into perspective, as a famous person had once said, it was like weaponizing a wind farm. Crops were being burned in the engine of that Swedish monster faster than a bushfire in Australia. And the P1 itself was faultless in it's acceleration. When the turbos didn't kick, the batteries did, and the acceleration was constant. Absolutely so, even when Ross shifted into fifth, now tailing almost 170mph. The city limits were far behind, thanks to the speed of these things, and no traffic either. This was a shut road. The cars roared, as Ross just knew that this was just totally insane.

[Bee]

If Ross's P1 was illegal in most parts of the world, then Kimberly's Agera was the most illegal car in the world. Not like she was a stranger to anything of that sort. Her Skyline was incredibly illegal, but at the same time it was pretty legal too. She used that Japanese icon like an everyday car. Still though, how often does someone get to drive a Koenigsegg Agera? It was something the Swedish did very well, in addition to things like fish, meatballs, or cheaply made tables/dressers/desks that were a bitch to assemble. Every time she revved it, she could feel the twin-turbo V8 roar behind her. Every single rumble and bumble, the whine of both the turbos just ready to kick her harder in the butt than she had ever felt in her life. It was like that twin-turbo 5.0L V8 was a direct descendant of Thor himself, those Swedes really knew how to make a car. Kimberly wasn't a huge believer in that hippie-shit that was in the P1, Porsche 918, and LaFerrari. The technology on those cars reminded her of Priuses, and Priuses were her least favorite car in the world. Nope, she wouldn't even be caught in dead in one. Not even the racing version. The Prius was an abomination and disgrace to cars everywhere. Thank goodness cars like these existed. She wouldn't know what she wouldn't do if cars like the Prius were everywhere.

As she pulled down the road, she revved the V8 once again as a showing off. Turbos whining and everything. They were eager to be pushed to the limit, kinda like a puppy that could see the big great outdoors through the clear door that lead outside. She knew she had some sort of advantage over the P1, whether it'd be the lack of hippie shit or the power to weight ratio. As soon as Ross departed and disappeared to only-god-knows-where, Kimberly went into a different lane and gave it about 85% throttle. The punch she experience as the car's tires squealed was something she had only experienced a handful of times in her life. And she loved it every time. The V8 roared, the modern version of Thor's Mjolnir tearing down the Arabian roads. The car was fuck-your-shit fast, and by god Kimberly was having the time of her life. Within one blink, the car was already heading upwards of 175 mph, her knuckles becoming white from the amount of grip she needed to keep the car stable. 0-62 mph in 2.8 seconds. Kimberly could swear she the last time she smiled this much was when her daughter first uttered her first words. Her daughter would always hold a special place in her heart, but this was a moment she would remember forever. How often does one get to drive a 1160bhp car on a closed Arabian road? Not many people, definitely not anyone she knew (as far as she knew anyway).

The Swedish hypercar was closing in on its British counterpart rapidly, speeds climbing up and up as Kimberly gave it more throttle gradually. This was a car that would bite you in the ass if you fucked up. However, this wasn't anything she was a stranger to. Fast cars were right up her alley, and this wouldn't be a car she was afraid of. There was no car she was afraid of, no matter how insane or how incredibly bizzare it was. If it was able to be driven, Kimberly could tame it. She had a natural knack for these, but it was to be expected considering her family lineage with these. Her father owned a Ferrari 599 GTO, one of the rarest, but best Ferrari's ever created. Kimberly was sort of squinting as the brightness of the day shined down on her. It was usual for a place like this. Not a big deal. Kimberly's car had broken the 190 mph barrier, and it showed no signs of slowing down at all.

Kimberly could only smile as she zipped past her husband, her Agera just pounding down the road going as fast as it possibly could. She was hoping this road would go on forever, she did not want to get out of this car at all, ever.

[FourtyTwo]

The Agera roared past, as Ross smirked, getting behind, the P1's sleek body sitting behind the Viking fury that was the Koenigsegg just roaring, as Ross replied. Maybe her car was a little more raw, but this was no less engineered. The Carbon Fibre oozed out of every pore, it felt refined. The way it stuck to the tarmac, and the delivery of power was a mad feeling. The V8 was loud, and it felt like sitting in a race car, only that it was able to accelerate even through the gears. The power didn't stop, it was unrelenting. The desert road was totally empty, and at mid-day, boiling hot. Ross was sweating, even for him, going 180, 190, then 200mph on a desert road in 40 degree heat was unbelievable. They were covering football pitches in seconds at this speed, and it didn't stop. 210, 220...seventh gear on this car was coming close to it's end, and it was a feeling like no other. A tiny bend in the road didn't even stop, as Ross followed Kimberly's lead, the road still unbelievable as they sped, and sped. The wheel didn't vibrate as madly as Ross expected it to- for a car like this, it was engineered. The Koenigsegg may have been total Swedish fury in a road-going package, but Ross remembered what the P1 was. A machine that was made by a former F1-running team. And whilst most would see it as passionless, and just a slab of carbon fibre, it was anything but. It had a soul, a feel like it was made to perfection, and as if some real care had gone into making this more than just a silly fast beast. It felt like a fighter jet, one that Ross was expecting to find a flickered button somewhere on the dash to launch the munitions. It was stuck to the tarmac, and even at this speed, Ross knew that as petrifying as it would be to make a mistake, it was as if this vehicle was in his head, just knowing full well that Ross was taking it to it's very limit and not one hair over into a sand dune. At this speed, the world was becoming a blur, a sickening one.

The road began to twist, and Ross shifted down, as he swept past Kimberly on a nice right hander, sand kicking up from the side of the road as he smirked, back on the power. This thing lept through the higher end, and soon, Ross was ahead of her again, the light blue shade of rare hypercar roaring onwards.

----

6AM
Somewhere in the Lyngen Alps, Norway

The route was horrible, it wasn't vertical, but at least 75 degrees upwards. Early morning had proven to be a good call though- the sun was just rising, and the snowy and rocky ice was as cold as it would get to have a firm anchor. Enough to pose a considerable challenge, considering the gear that Seb was hauling. This was an ascent and a half, and as Sebastian buried the picks in, clambering up and anchoring his crampons. They were at 1,600m above sea level, the sight of more spiked and snowy mountains behind, and a fjord not too far away in the distance, immense in it's scale as it headed to Tromso. Not for a few hundred meters, like this. After getting past the glacial deposits that were further down the peak, getting to here was good. It was a mountain of considerable challenge, and doing what Seb planned to do here was going to be tricky, that was for sure. His colorful skis sat on his back, by his 40 litre Lowe Alpine Rucksack, with his Black Diamond ice picks and crampons dug in. He felt his harness come a little taut, as he waited on Ellie to move up a little, aware he was making the lead on this climb. The Austrian wore a blue down jacket, and black thermal trousers, to keep in whatever heat he could. A black Mammut Beanie sat on his head, and a GoPro at his chest, with few ice screw-ins on his Mammut harness for the ice. Where it was tricky to ascent and make a hold, the screws went in till Ellie cleared it and took them out. He wore a pair of strongly polarized, red tinted Oakleys fit for use in snow like this. A pair of thermal gloves, and a few other bits and pieces too. The rucksack had his BASE rig and wingsuit inside, packed tight.

Either way, they were coming close to the top. They wouldn't ski down this face of the route- they were going down the other side. And Seb had more than just a plan for this trip. Skiing and wingsuiting went in hand and hand, and whilst extremely risky, it was also an incredible rush. The Lyngen Alps were very well suited for alpine skiing, with routes aplenty to be carved on the way down. And from the view from afar that he had made on his recon, Seb had noticed that there was a gap at about 1,200m, when the snow ended, and a vertical wall of rock started. That was the kick-off point, and from there, they could glide down to the fjord. This place wasn't often explored by BASE jumpers, and Seb was surprised- whilst the clearances were perilous, it was doable, for certain, and definitely something unique.

Shifting up a little more, he felt the ice tremble under his pick, and re-established a hold, hearing the ice splinter.
"It's mainly surface skims." Seb said to Ellie, looking down at his female companion, before shifting up, waiting on her again, just not wanting to get too much slack but not too much tightness in the rope. In effect, if one of the two fell, with a good anchor, their weight could be held. Either way, the drop down below wasn't petrifying, but Seb knew that he would rather smash this ice pick against the ice than begin that drop. Shifting his gloved hands upward, he established another hold, chuckling. The GoPro wasn't recording, not yet at least, but he had gotten bits of footage on the way up.
"It's a wonderful place. Not often do you get to see the sea and mountains in the same place." Seb said, as he kicked up a little, clambering a little further, giving about another 100m worth of climbing till they reached the mountain's ridge.
"It's definitely going to be interesting. It will be a quick start after we ditch our skis, you'll have to fly almost immediately. Adds to the fun. I can imagine it will be fun to edit." Seb added, chuckling, as he looked down at Ellie. She was just how she was- sweet, awesome, and the only person that Seb knew that would follow him. It was a fruitful relationship they had, and whilst right now Seb wasn't thinking about the ins and outs of their relationship, he knew that on a mountainside, somewhere beyond the Arctic Circle on a steep Norwegian mountain, that she was the one for him.

[Bee]

If a comparison could be assigned to the experience Kimberly was going through, it'd be pretty hard to put into words. She was zipping through a 3000 lbs car with a thousand plus horsepower. It was like... she was a fastball being thrown by Arlodis Chapman (105.1 mph). She was that baseball, and the Agera was the pitcher. She swore she could hear it snapping through the air, and soon she could break the speed of sound. Kinda like a Concorde. 8000 revs of nothing but power from nothing but the engine. No batteries, no hippie shit, none of that stuff. A tiny bend came up, but the only thing that Kimberly could do in this sort of situation was to let off the throttle and let the momentum she had built up carry her through the turn. A slight bumbling could be heard as she let off, the gas left in the exhaust igniting and making that pleasant noise. Very reminiscent of the Jaguar F-Type, another British creation that Kimberly liked. Of course her favorite was behind her, but that was besides the point. What really mattered were the Swedish. Oh Thor almighty... Kimberly appreciated just how well the Swedish did cars.

Kimberly tsked to herself once Ross passed her up again, shaking her head before she went down a gear, allowing the meaty point of the powerband to be better utilized as more power was sent to the wheels. She rocketed forward again, shooting past her husband as she could hear the hippie-shit + V8 fly past her. This would go on for days and days, and Kimberly would savor every moment of it.

---

Ellie squinted as she looked up the path she and her partner, Seb were travelling up on. They had agreed on this particular spot for some sick wingsuiting about to go down later. Ellie was an avid wingsuiter, having it packed among her gear that she carried on her back. Although, this path wasn't a particularly pleasant one though. One mile from sea level. That was a doozie and a half once one put it into perspective. She could feel her (very well toned) muscles working pretty hard, sweat building up underneath all the thermal clothing she was wearing. The black and white North Face Terra 50 rucksack held up nicely despite the harsh conditions. Like her companion, she was using Black Diamond Viper ice picks, attached to her jacket so she didn't accidentally drop it and lose it down the mountain. That was $200 down the mountain! No way she was losing that just yet. She was against wasting money, despite the many GoPros she had "accidentally" destroyed in the process of filming. Ellie had a pink thermal jacket on, contrasting with Seb's blue jacket. A North Face beanie also rested on her blonde hair, goggles holding it down, but she wasn't using the goggles, it made her face feel funny and she wasn't too keen on having a funny feeling face

The event that would be happening once they made it to the top would be one Ellie was very enthusiastic to attack. A rougher path to ski? She was born in this sort of thing. She had been skiing for a long time, not since the very early years, but early enough for her to be excellent at this point in her life. And it didn't end at there, once the path ended, they'd be taking off like birds and carving out an uncharted path. This excited Ellie, but at the same time worrying her. It wasn't too bad though, how bad could it be? As long as she followed Seb, she would be a-okay. Ellie sighed as she continued the long, long ascent to the top, wondering when exactly she could get skiing.

Ellie shook her head as she felt a bit of snow fall on her face, sputtering and coughing as she tried to get some of it out. She continued the climb up, making sure that she proper anchors set so just in case her or Seb fell, they would be safe to continue. No worries about it. She groaned in her cute, Scottish manner, blowing snow out of her face as she shifted her way up. "Yeah, it better be fecking worth it. I'm eating your snow here..." She groaned, before continuing on with the long and tiring climb. "Footage is a big plus, I reckon we'd get a few hundred thousand? Six figure view count in a month or so. Sound good?" Ellie mused, as she slammed her ice pick into the surface below her and shifted her weight up. Seb was such a cool dude, happy to have met him that one day. Ever since then, she had been on his YouTube channel, and he had been on hers. Many people shipped them, even though they weren't exactly revealing their relationship to their fans just yet. It was too casual for that. Not yet, but Seb was definitely someone she could see herself hanging around for a long time.

[FourtyTwo]

The rear end burbled in a blue flame, as Ross smirked, the road continuing on. A few signs blurred by, and Ross was on the brakes, aware that this was the end. If Kimberly had any sense, he hoped she would too, as he saw the couple of police cars up ahead. Well, they were friendly at least...they weren't moving at all, and were just keeping the road shut, with a hastily erected barricade. Chuckling, Ross put the P1 into first, the wheels skidding as he did a 180, the flames roaring. They were going back now. But Ross didn't care entirely. This was just awesome. For him, he was happy to get the chance- and as they headed back to Dubai, Ross aware that the speedometer was climbing back to 200mph and the engine roared, the whole car feeling like a Eurofighter, he was in a second heaven, the P1 GTR something he knew he wouldn't drive again.

----

Clambering up a little further, Seb chuckled lightly, clambering over as he jammed his pick in, clambering his hands up a little onto a chunk of rock, the sharp granite cutting into his alpine gloves but offering a good grip as he moved his left arm up, using his right pick to stick a position into the ice, while he got a better hold with his crampons.
"100,000 is liberal for the first few days, but we can try. Good editing makes the difference." He added, clambering up, setting up a cam in a part of the granite rock, threading the rope through as he weighed himself back.
"We're anchored well on this one. Pull it out as we go. Another 20m of solid ice after this. Then we go along the ridge. Remember, slow and steady. Breathe." Seb said, looking down at Ellie, chuckling, as he pushed up, crampon in as he wedged his feet in, sliding a little as the pick came loose. He wedged his second in, and held up, moving his right hand back into place as he pushed straight back up, heading off centre of the area that had decided to collapse. It hadn't been significant, but it was good he had grabbed a grip with the pick in his left hand before moving.
"Shit." Seb said, as he moved up, grunting as he got his hold back, waiting on Ellie to sort out the cam that was below him.

After sorting it out, Seb continued the push, pick in, feet up, pick out, pick in. It was tedious, but this was coming to an end, and argueably, it was proving to be a difficult section. They'd spent almost ten minutes doing this short distance, playing with ropes. Now, Seb wanted that to come to an end. The slope began to become more and more rocky, and less vertical. Moving slowly, he didn't want to stand, but clambered slowly over the granite rocks. He set up another cam, jamming it between two sets, before getting a good tension on.
"Cam's in, you're held Ellie. Push on." Seb said, as he moved slowly over, his rope still in his harness as he moved over the rocky section of granite, climbing as he used his crampons to kick into the ice and sharp granite features when needs be. Pushing over a little further, the rocks became less steep, and the ridge began to form, as Sebastian chuckled.

----

Part Three:
Windchill
OST

They'd packed up the Mammut rope between the two of them, and ditched the crampons, Seb walking with a pair of Salomon Mountaineering boots, in a kinky blue and orange color, though they looked practically brand new- minus the scratches from the rocks. The ice picks were slung back into the bag, the sharp picks detached and Seb now leading the two over the ridge. There was a slight dip, but the sun was about a fifth of the way up in the sky, an orange haze over the Fjord just wonderful. It was why living was worth it. A moment of pure glee, that never failed to disappoint Seb. The sharp razerback of the mountains, and the desolate feel. They could have done some Heli-Ski here, but Seb wanted to be adventurous. Go Pro on, he headed along the ridge's exposed front, on both sides, huge drops. He kept his footing careful, as he adjusted his beanie, looking back at Ellie, the Go Pro around the back of his head, on his chest, and on the top of his boot. Weird positioning, but it all had a reason. Clambering over a few bits of rock, scrambling the set, he continued walking the ridge, the cold chill blowing over and leaving a cold and powdered residue over his chin and beanie, the Austrian as sure footed as he could be. He was quiet in times like this, just taking it in was the way he liked being. He was quiet, perhaps a little more at ease with this. Just happy in a place like this, and with his female companion.
"Would you look at that view." Seb said, smiling, as he adjusted his Oakleys, walking on as he scarpered over some more rocks, moving with some fluidity as he almost ran up the patchy rock network, his feet planted. This had to be the peak, even if it was unmarked. THe wind howled loudly, it was cold, a windchill of maybe -20. Considering it was already -10, it was about -30 degrees up here, and the only thing that had kept frost from forming on the Austrian's face was the fact that he had kept moving and layered up very well indeed. Wiping his nose with the back of his glove, he smirked, as he scarpered down. There was a small rock that stuck out, and Seb felt it gripped his rubber sole well, as he threw his skis off his back into the snowy bank. Putting his rucksack down, off his back, he nodded.

"You can lead on this one. I'll check you over, then I'll sort my shit out. Then, we'll go have some fun." Seb said, smirking, as he kissed her on the forehead, his lips cold and her forehead colder, as he brought his wingsuit out of the bag, packed down tight, as well as his BASE rig, black in color and low-profile. Stashing the bag as small as he could, he took the Go Pros off his boots and chest, fitting it to a chest harness on the wingsuit, and on the right side of the black and blue wingsuit's leg wing. This was advertising, but it was good alright. A little expedition of their own. An escape, a real challenge into a place that people didn't go, and Seb was happy that they were alone right here, right now, in the howling wind and blowy powder. The slope below was steep, but immense. As Ellie kitted up, he checked her BASE rig- or the container in which her parachute was packed into, and her wingsuit, looking over her from head to toe.
"Arms and legs out." Seb said, with a cheeky slap on the butt, laughing as he got his own kit on, nodding.
"You're all good, Fraulein Dorian." He said, as he took his Beanie off, the shaved hair of the Austrian visible for a moment before he got his helmet on, a red open-face one that seemed to sit well on his head. A simple click, followed by the tightening of his rig's straps, both at his legs and chest, were followed by the zips on his wingsuit. He packed his rucksack in it's compressed components by his back, under his rig, in a position where it wouldn't get in the way of this flight. Last, were the skis- which he latched onto his feet, aware that his wingsuit wouldn't interfere with his legs on this, not entirely at least. Poles, and that was the last of his own stuff.

[Bee]

Kimberly watched the brake lights on her husband's car flash on long and hard, a good indicator that the road up ahead was coming to a close. The Caucasian driver slammed on the brakes, going down gears accordingly. The Mjolnir-adjacent object sitting right behind her burbled as she went down the gears, before she came to a slow enough speed to do a u-turn and haul ass back the way she came. The police cars sitting there... also a very good indicator that the road ahead had come to a close and it was time to come back. She couldn't drive this thing forever, as much as she really enjoyed it. Might as well make the best of it. As she watched her husband's P1 dart down the street, Kimberly smirked to herself as she gradually applied the throttle. She wouldn't let him have all of the fun to himself. Not how it worked in their relationship anymore. Not at all.

---

Ellie really used her arms to lift her 62 kilogram frame up the near-vertical climb she had up ahead of her. Contrary to popular belief, Ellie really did have to make sure she was in peak physical shape in order to make things easier on herself. That didn't just include really, really good cardio either. She had to make sure she had quite the amount of muscular endurance, strength, and flexibility. Climbing and all this stuff really got easier as Ellie got more fit. Lifting her weight plus a lot more. Her abs were about as firm as the rock she was planting her feet in. All for the tasks she loved most. Because all this hard work, Ellie was capable of running a mile just as fast as Division 1 track and fielders. Ellie looked up at her partner climbing above her, nodding as the message got to her head and she proceeded to do what he told her to do. As soon as she sensed a movement that wasn't really supposed to happen, Ellie braced herself subconsciously before she looked back up to see Seb was just fine. She sighed a slight breath of relief, knowing that her Seb was alright.

The push was crazy tedious, having to play with ropes and really playing with them to get the intended effect out of them. By the time the slope evened out, she was practically bear crawling up the ridge. The pace was a bit sluggish though, but it was all in good nature. Having to put in cams and whatnot just so Ellie was safe. Better safe than sorry as everyone said. "Feck me. This is tough shit, man!" She said, climbing up and up.

---

Quite a time later, they were walking regularly now, no rope at all since it was stable enough to just do some simple walking on it. She had ditched her crampons, and just carried on with her Scarpa Fuego mountaineering boots instead. They were real expensive, but worth it. Ellie could definitely feel the protection and their value in general. If there was one injury that always plagued Ellie, it was definitely sprained ankles. She had sustained a lot of injuries in her career, but for some reason her ankles seemed to be the weakest when it came to her body. Her ankles required a lot of protection, but it was very well worth it. Ellie could find herself squinting as she was face to face with the orange-tinted sky, knowing that the sun was coming up. Just like her partner, she was clad in GoPros, on her chest, head, and wrist. The more footage she got, the better. If she didn't want something to be in there, she could always just plop something in there. Something miscellaneous? Wouldn't be the first time she did it. As she climbed over the last rock, she stood back up and jogged over to her partner, looking over the beautiful view ahead of them. All that could be heard was the wind blowing around them, as they just took in the sights. Sights like these were definitely worth killing over.

"Wow... you definitely know how to pick your locations, Seb." Ellie pulled her goggles and beanie off as she let her hair flow in the wind. Poor Seb, he didn't get to experience things like this. Didn't have the hair to do so. Ellie sighed, watching her breath materialize in front of her and drift away, the cold air quickly entering her body. The Scottish-Canadian looked at Seb, catching onto what he was doing very quickly and setting her gear down. Seb came over to her and said she could lead this skiing endeavor, which really excited Ellie since she really liked leading. His cold lips on her even colder forehead were a strangely good feeling. She could definitely notice the difference in warmth. "See ya on the flipside, Seb."

Ellie made sure her bag would be as small as possible as she took out her wingsuiting gear, transferring all her GoPro stuff to the harness already on it. Helmet, chest, arms, and legs. Like Ellie always said, the more angles the better. Her wingsuit followed shortly afterwards. It was a beautiful white and gold design, with the leg patch-flap thing being a hybrid of the Scottish flag and the Canadian flag, representing Ellie's nationalities. Soon enough she was done dressing up and ready to get skiing. She had everything on, skis, GoPros, helmet, everything. Now it was just time for Seb to check her, even though she had a slight bad feeling about this. She stood in front of him, holding out her limbs and feeling him pat her down. The cheeky touch on her ass though, caused her to yelp a bit. "Seb! Hey!" She complained, glaring at him. The Canadian-Scottish wingsuiter nodded and proceeded to wait for her partner to get ready, before asking him the very same thing. "Arms and legs. I'm not touching your butt." She said bluntly, as she checked him down. "You're all set to go!" She said, gesturing to the trail they would conquer, "You ready?"

[FourtyTwo]

Seb couldn't help but smirk, knowing full well he could be an asshole at the best of times, feeling his pull on his BASE rig, on the bottom right corner as a simple rubber ball. From that, the pilot chute was stowed inside, and throwing that out at 150mph would pull his parachute out, and stopping him from going splat. It was physics, and simply put, without it, this shit wasn't possible. It was awesome, to say the least. Sunglasses still on, he breathed a deep breath, the steamy heat that he exhaled from his lungs showing just how cold it was. He smirked, looking to Ellie, nodding.
"Whenever you're ready, darling." Seb added, all Go Pros filming, as he slid forward on the rock, looking down at the snow below, aware he was going to follow her down, all the way. It was steep, and it was covered in rocky crags, but it was an awesome line, one that would be definitely doable. While the material between Seb's legs was a little restrictive whilst skiing, and prevented him from going full tilt, as he knew he could, doing this still something that he could pull off. He had them done up loose, and knew that when it came to the edge, he'd have to flick particularly hard, and they'd come out, though it was exceptionally risky to do whatever they did. Either way, he was prepared. Watching her head down, Seb smirked, as the powder carved under her skis. Pushing down, he landed on the fresh and spraying snow, and began skiing, carving above her as he smirked, chuckling with a nice whoop.

Skiing to the right of a set of rocks, he got in position above Ellie, following her down as they carved hard, the slope steep as they avoided rocky objects and ridges, a large dip throwing Seb a few meters airborne as he turned on landing, powder spraying downslope, chuckling as the sure-footed Austrian knew that it would take an Olympian to beat him at this. He was good, and knew full well this wasn't the most fun bit. On a freezing cold Norwegian mountain north of the Arctic circle, Seb turned his head to the sunrise, catching it nicely, knowing he'd add in a slow motion edit. He looked ahead, and avoided a pair of rocks, almost coming airborne with how much he carved, seeing Ellie below. They were coming closer and closer to the edge, another few hundred meters, Seb could guess. It was a while, but with a slope this steep, they were storming downwards. He didn't know how fast, but it was definitely something scary for any skiier to see, especially on slopes like this. Looking to his right, he saw the powder pour down, from his previous carving as well as Ellie's, aware that it was accumulating, big chunks going off as it spiraled downwards. Hopefully, it wouldn't generate an avalanche...the snow was too compact, he thought to himself.That was, till he got a look to his left, near a set of rocks. It looked intimidating, and was starting. Seb could tell.

"Shit." He simply said, not quiet or not loud, but just as an exlaimation, aware that the avalanche was indeed beginning. Seb could see the point that they were coming to, and no doubt, this was a moment he wanted to film. The camera on his leg, filming behind caught the torrent of snow coming down, as he knew to stay calm, feeling bits blast by at a tremendous speed, while the majority remained on their left, only starting to take more and more of the slope Speed up, reduce carving, and be ready for this, Seb said to himself. They needed to speed up to hit this cliff, and the slight reverb that sat at the end of it was their point. Below that, was about 50m worth of vertical clearance, and no hope in hell would they carry on skiing. They needed to go flying over that reverb, and they had merely seconds to ditch their skis and open their wingsuits...this was adrenaline alright. Watching Ellie, he followed suit, as they hurtled towards the end of the skiiable slope, knowing they weren't going to survive a fall without getting airborne, the notch giving a little airtime as Seb smirked. Escaping an avalanche with a wingsuit whilst skiing down a remote Norwegian mountain...this was gold. Ellie was in his full view, as he saw the white and gold figure get airborne.

[Bee]

Ellie shrugged and allowed her skis to make contact with the slope below, feeling gravity pull her down already. Because she was wearing this wingsuit, she wasn't able to completely lean forward as a result of that. Didn't matter though, she was collecting quite the bit of speed as carved down this wicked slope. If there was another thing the Norweigians had going for them, it was definitely their mountains. Add women, vikings, and snow to the ever-expanding list of things Norway did right. She couldn't wait to ditch these skis and go carving this mountain in the air. She and Seb were probably the first to do this to the mountains, and she was so glad. She didn't want a place like this to be desecrated by your average stupid teenage punk looking to get some cheap, easy views doing something incredibly dumb on it. At least if someone were to carve these mountains they'd do it right, and extravagantly. This was what Ellie was for, doing this for her own personal experience and sharing it with the world. The powder was fresh, untouched, perfectly set for skis to carve. She used the ski poles to keep herself balanced and upright, as well as give herself some momentum and speed to go off on.

Ellie could've sworn she was Olympic material, but a few things were keeping her from actually entering. For example, the mixed nationality thing. Would she be competing for Team Scotland or Team Canada? These were issues that Ellie had better things to be worrying about rather than those. Maybe she would become an Olympian, but as for right now she was concentrating on providing her fans with quality content and making sure the loyal ones are happy. As she was coming down, she was thinking of stuff to give away for her next subscriber milestone. A large dip sent Ellie airborne, and she could feel the impact travel through her body as she landed. She smiled at the the jump, but seeing the slope of the mountain and the end coming up ahead, she knew that the end was coming soon. The speed she had accumulated was only going to increase, so it would be coming faster and faster by the second.

The Scottish-Canadian looked around and saw that something was travelling down the side of the mountains. Upon a closer look, she could see that it snow. Large chunks of snow. Ellie cursed to herself, and continued to travel down at an even faster rate, tucking herself in so that she had a better chance at beating the avalanche. This was scary, but Ellie know that all her GoPros were capturing every second, and would be sending fear and adrenaline into hearts of fans everywhere. The end was coming. Ellie needed to ditch the skis now and start soaring like an eagle. Where was Richard when you needed him? Shame she couldn't bring him, it would be badass for her to have her eagle soaring alongside. Ellie thought to herself, mentally preparing herself for the stunt she would be pulling off in the coming seconds. "Okay... okay... here you go Elizabeth... here you go." She said, as the end was coming up faster than a rocket.

The skiier went airborne, and she could feel everything slowing down as she ditched her skis, watching them fall down below as she got into the proper position to deploy her wingsuit. She spread her arms and legs, feeling the air catch in those flaps and carrying her up, as she felt like a bird once again, sailing through the air and feeling the wind on her body. As turned a certain direction, she saw the sun shining on them. If this wasn't glorious, she didn't know what this was.

[FourtyTwo]

The rush was unbelievable, totally unbelievable. Like all things in life, it never failed to amaze, to remind of what they did what they did. Seb watched her fly over the edge, his camera fixed on her, as he followed suit, hurtling towards the recurve that threw him airborne. He couldn't help himself, as he threw himself into a backflip, skis flying off as he opened up his legs and arms, the blue material inflating as his wingsuit caught the cold and dry air, fully aware of what he did. He had backflipped off the edge, and now had the void in his view. His love's white and gold a different shade to the rock and snow below, as the moment felt slowed down. The adrenaline was flowing already, but now, his heart felt trapped in a moment of pure bliss, total calm. When you did this, there was no point doubting your ability. If you did, you would get injured, or die. You had to promise yourself that this was your territory, and that you knew your line down.

The speed rushed past his Oakleys, as he dived down, the rocks in double digits in meters in their proximity, as Seb followed Ellie, threading down the mountainside at a stupid pace. Diving a little, he felt the wind kick hard, the speed faster and faster, as it felt as if he was truly gliding. He could open his arms out fuller and back out, but he was coming in closer, a certain proximity. Ellie looked as content as he did, as they flew down the mountainside, the sight of the two a heart-stopping sight to see. The mountainside was rugged, and they were like birds in the breeze, well and truly alive. Seb didn't know anything better than this, maybe not even sex. It was that surreal, the whole fjord in his view, as he began turning, to follow the line's curve. A little bit of a rift that Ellie thundered through was something he followed into, as the rock gave way to greenery, the fjord in sight. They were going for the coastline, right down to the bottom.

Arms and legs open wider, he felt the aerofoil-shape of his body now pick up lift far better, as he thundered past a set of conifers, coming within meters, as Ellie had done. She was fearless, to say the least, and no doubt a match for his abilities. Still, this wasn't a race, just a very, very fun way of doing things. Those did occurred, but this jump was a first, and a real chance to just enjoy life, as it was. At 200mph, they were going over terrain that a supercar could never match the speed on, or any other transport. The view was incredible, the sunrise still going up, as Seb followed Ellie's line, staying right behind her within 20m or so, up close and personal with the Canadian's back, as they began coming out of proximity with the mountainside and clearing over this last stretch. They had to get a little height, and amazingly, due to the level of diving that they had incurred on the way down, it was possible to actually create positive lift with the wingsuits they used- the speed converted to lift, and giving a little more breathing room for deploying the canopies. Breaking off a little to her left, he had her in full view with his cameras, as they flew over the coast of the fjord, about ten seconds from going splat if they didn't deploy here, and hence he was out of her way when the parachute flew into the burble and rocked her into the arms of safety, out of the jaws of madness.

[Bee]

Ellie could feel the cool Norwegian air flowing through her hair as she soared like a dove through the iar. This sort of sensation was very rarely experienced, and the fact that Ellie and Seb were here, it was just insane to be doing this at this very moment. Her heart was pounding through her chest, it wasn't to be mistaken but it was like she had flown this exact path many many times in her life. She was cool, calm, and she was breathing regularly. This sort of thing might've scared the shit out of some people, but to Ellie and Seb, the some of the biggest adrenaline junkies in the world, this was just second nature to the both of them. They had been doing this sort of stuff for an eternity and they didn't seem to be slowing down anytime soon. Soon enough Ellie could see the coastline, indicating the end was to come to this awesome wingsuiting session. Ellie looked at her wrist mounted GPS and noticed that the ideal altitude to deploy her parachute was coming up fast.

The female wingsuiter looked behind her, seeing her partner trailing behind her nicely. As the point came closer and closer, Ellie knew that Seb would be making a move to distance himself from her, preventing any potential collision from happening as the parachutes came out. She pulled the cord on her parachute, catching air quickly as it whipped her back, slowing her down massively so that she could land on the fjord safely. She took a deep breath as she closed in onto what looked like a beach, a perfect area to land. A big smile was on her face, this was one of her favorite bits of scenery in the world. Beaches, mountains, stuff like that. Ellie just lived for those sorts of things. The ground got closer and closer and Ellie was bracing herself for landing. Her feet made contact with the ground, and she still had momentum she needed to relocate. She was running forward, eventually tumbling down on herself and ending up on her belly in the sand. Not a bad place to have a crash landing of sorts.

Ellie took off her helmet and her parachute, walking over to her partner who had already landed. She had a smile on her face, chucking her helmet behind her. "That was fun! Wouldn't you agree?" Ellie cheered, putting a hand on her partner. She nudged him a bit, before eyeing the water and the sand. There was water. There was sand. Water had a variety of purposes, and Ellie felt like she was obligated to do something with the water. It might've been some cold as fuck Norweigian water, but Ellie was used to this sort of thing. This wouldn't cause her to be hypothermic, at least as far as she knew. Ellie loosened the the rig on her wingsuit, which would allow her to take off the wingsuit completely. She scrambled to get her wingsuit off, before darting off to the water. An audible splash could be heard as Ellie submerged herself in the Norwegian waters.

The water was cold, but not the coldest she had ever been in. Maybe a good 10-15 minutes in here and then she needed to get the fuck out and get herself dry and warm. She was totally underwater and then popped back out, spitting out some water. "Seeeeeb! Get your cheeky arse in here! She said, before getting to a position where Seb got a good view of Ellie and her totally wet compression undergarments. "You ain't gonna get opportunities like this often!" She retorted, before submerging herself back into the water.

[FourtyTwo]

Seb parted off to the side, and while knowing it wasn't the longest flight that he'd done- that being reserved for the Eiger, this was something special, unique. It was one of a kind, and the cold wind and total trust in his abillity reminded him, that there was no place he would rather be. The blue and black was a smidge of a color as it blasted past a set of rocks, Seb now going to the left, away from her. He saw Ellie get her canopy open, and followed with his own, throwing the pilot chute out as he brought his arms in, legs still open as he brought his arms out, the pilot chute flying out of the burble. The rest of the canopy rushed out, and Seb felt it slow him down from 160mph to 30, the force hard but something he was used to with a high performance wingsuit like this. Looking down, he yelled with joy, looking over at Ellie's golden parachute, contrasting to his own black-topped, blue underneath colored canopy. It was fairly docile, but for something like this, it had to be- the last thing that Seb wanted was a kite to stop him when the rush ended. Turning the toggles, he dived a little, seeing Ellie come down as he whooped again, flaring as he felt his feet almost touch the ground. It was the last moment, the moment when your feet and your body no longer felt in the sky, like you were still in the void. And as his feet touched the rock, he made a running landing, as the canopy collapsed.

Seb was landing on the rocky beach by her side, high fiving her and screaming with joy. This was perfection, as he looked over to her, helmet still on and canopy behind him. He smirked as she looked over, the rocky beach along the fjord's coastline just a little desolate, but a wonderful place to be. And after that, it felt like he was most alive. Like he was truly living a life. He turned off his GoPros on his chest and leg, looking at Ellie, as she took her clothes off, and in her thermal garnments, was running to the sea. He filmed it through his helmet cam, as he saw her splash in, and warm on adrenaline, begin swimming. Turning the camera off, and unzipping his wingsuit, he threw down his kit, anchoring his canopy on the stones as he took off his down jacket and helmet. Dropping his rig down, he then put down his Oakleys, the dawn and difference in temperature at sea level completely different. He wore a simple thermal longsleeve top, and thermal leggings, perhaps a little strange but tight fitting and good at keeping the cold in. He felt warm, alive, truly like he was in a second heaven. He saw Ellie yell at him, and chuckled, looking over.
"You're such a tease! Come here darling!" He said, running to the water, as he dived in, feeling the cold kick hard, as he ran out to embrace her, in the cold, cold water, kissing her and knowing she was soaking wet. Embracing her, he felt her soaked thermals, and the nipples on her breasts inside her thermals poke against his thermals, feeling the wet feel of his girlfriend. He kissed her, tongue in, barely feeling the cold, but her warm feel.
"God, there's nowhere I would rather be..." He said, clutching her tight, as he felt like this moment was going on forever.

[FourtyTwo]

Part Four: Night Work

London, England
22:45 PM

A few days after Dubai, Ross and Kimberly had made their way back to Britain, the money securely deposited in a Swiss Bank account, and now out of harm's way. It wasn't going to be touched any time soon, to say the least. And right about now, as Ross turned the corner in the dark alley in the London Docklands, the tweaked up, carbon-fiber black 2003 Subaru Impreza roaring, the old-school nature of this vehicle just perfect for what he had in mind. The sight of it was enough to cement what was going down- the construction site had been turned into a small night rave, and there were petrolheads aplenty right here. Ross had planned to meet Kimberly here, and as he pulled off the road, underneath the shell of the steel framed building that was going up, there were cars parked all about, people talking, drinking, generally having a good time. It was mostly out of the way of the residential buildings, in an industrial park of sorts, and the noise and feeling was good. Pulling in, the boxer engine giving a good bark as it spat a little flame, Ross found a spot in the dirt to park up in, between some building equipment. As he remembered well enough, this was a car with 550bhp, and a carbon fiber bodykit that would have suited that of a rallycross car, with a simular power. Anti-Lag, a big turbo, and a reworked engine that meant that it threw out as much power as Ross dared have it, without turning it into a pile of shit. That was the very least of what he had done to it- there was far more that he remembered doing, as he had worked on it personally for day and night a few years ago. But it still had what it took, and on four wheels, in an urban environment, it would put most supercars to shame.

Clambering out, he heard the sound of liquid drum and bass playing, this place basically a warehouse rave now, but with car nuts all over. There were some doing donuts in the construction site, others just simply sitting back and relaxing. But Ross was here because he knew it was time to have some fun. He found Kimberly by her vehicle, as he walked over to her, smirking.
"Hey babe." He said, his Scots accent giving him the distinction between all the yuppies and chavs in their 911s and stupidly riced out 106s, this place looking like it catered for a wide range of people, all with the intention of doing petrolhead things.
"This is fucking mental." Ross added, speaking up over the noise of the music, looking at the speakers and group of young girls and ravers that had assembled, as well as general groups of people that were about. Scantily clad girls, it was almost something out of Fast and Furious, though it felt definitely a lot worse, and a lot less cliched.
"So, you ready for the race they're setting up? I can see you brought some firepower today." Ross added, remarking at the car, the environment truly one that was probably going to get busted within an hour or two, but one that was amazing. The lights and general atmosphere made it clear, that this was a car meet that was far less than legal.

[Bee]

The streets of London were something that Kimberly had grown strangely accustomed to over the past few years. It was sort of rubbing off on her, but she wasn't sure if it was just from being around Ross or what. Her 2001 Nissan Skyline GT-R V-Spec II Nur maneuvered through the slim streets of London, the 3.0L straight-six purring quietly underneath the hood of her car. Originally, the car packed the stock RB26DETT that came with every Skyline GT-R from the BNR32 and on. The Brits for some reason were able to come up with this sort of rave-like event catered to petrolheads like her or her dear husband Ross. She had been to a couple of these in the past, but those were in Scotland, not in the heart of England. If there was another downside to being in a place like England, the streets were ever-so-confusing. She didn't know how Ross did it, driving on the wrong side of the road and all. Ross also had the advantage of having a Subaru, which were common in England, meanwhile Kimberly was driving a JDM legend. Petrolheads everywhere drooled at her car, she was bound to stick out, but it was all worth it - this was a meet for petrolheads after all, might as well give them a treat. The car was pushing 900+ horsepower after quite the extensive modifications to it, originally it made even more but Kimberly tuned it back so there was a better balance between what the suspension and transmission could handle. It was at one point overhauled by a group of tuners in Japan, but Kimberly was hungry for more. She decided to rebuild the engine during her off-time from driving and increase the displacement to three liters, and replaced every part as it probably went under immense stress. Now, Kimberly was reaping the benefits of driving a much more improved Skyline. This had the works, just like Ross's Subaru. This car was her prize, the trophy of her garage, for many reasons. A big reason was the amount of shit Kimberly had to go through to get into the United States and make it street legal, the other was the rarity of this particular car. Kimberly had driven many cars in her life, but this, this always would be her most favorite. She idolized it during her years in high school, and now here she was, driving it to a meet in England.

Kimberly managed to find the location, the pounding music acting as a major clue to finding the place. It was a construction site, go figure. She just hoped it was stable enough and not collapse on the meet, that would've been a major disaster. As her and her R34 pulled in, all the people could see was the blue eyed brunette and the car she drove. Some people's jaws were hanging down low, others looked disgusted at the fact a woman was driving a way better car than they were. Either way, Kimberly gave no shits, she only cared about winning and her husband. It took her a while to find a spot, mostly because Ross's stupid Impreza (stupid in a loving way <3) took up the only spot she could see. Before it was embarrassingly long, she found a spot and backed into it, teasing the throttle so it fit in perfectly. She was next to a cute Golf and a Mini Cooper. When she clambered out, she could hear the sound of her windbreaker making noise as her husband came to her. "Hiya." She smiled, putting a foot up and leaning on his chest. Kimberly might've been only been 5'11, but she still made a presence on her 6'2 husband. Kimberly wrapped her arms around Ross and put her weight slightly against him, placing her ear against his chest as she looked at her car.

Kimberly only nodded as she rocked her and her husband, before looking up at the mention of her firepower. "Yeah... the same firepower that whooped your ass in Willow Springs a couple years ago." Kimberly chuckled, before tip-toeing to kiss her husband on the cheek. "Sorry baby, you know I had to." Kimberly stuck her tongue out before burying herself in Ross's chest again, knowing that she was his. The gesture alone shot down a lot of chav's chances at some Cheeky Nando's with Kimberly. She didn't roll like that, she was committed to the car. "I'm gonna check out the cars, see ya in a bit." Kimberly let go of Ross, walking around to see some competition. Already she could feel some blokes looking at her ass, however it was entirely her fault. She was wearing leggings, which showed off her defined buttocks. Her husband should be really grateful that ass was his, because Kimberly could hear some distant comments which had some heavy sexual connotation to it. "Oi mate, look at her arse... I'd shag that instantly." The thought made Kimberly shudder as she walked off to some area. Didn't really know where exactly she was going but that was okay. Anything to get away from those cheeky blokes. Along the way, she could see some Brit staples, such as more Imprezas and Evos, but these definitely weren't in the race. The race later would definitely pack some firepower, but Kimberly couldn't exactly pinpoint said firepower.

outfit minus glasses

[FourtyTwo]

"Maybe. But you know my tastes." He replied, smirking at her,as he looked over at a few of the cars coming in, another Evo IX and an old school BMW E30 M3, that looked like it had an awful lot of work put under the bonnet. This was a car meet alright, and apart from the pounding music, and the group of ravers, this was illegal as it could get. Kimberly looked beautiful today, her figure was a little too on display for Ross's taste, but he didn't mind. Her D cups and bootaye, with the latter in leggings, did show up and Ross knew that so long as she could handle herself that she would be fine. Most of these people were okay, but this was the rougher side of London, after all, and things could get tense very quickly.

Ross sat on his Impreza, as a group of lads walked past, one with a red hoodie and the others with designer shirts and jeans.
"So, this your ride?" One asked, as Ross chuckled.
"It might be."
"It's fucking sick. That and that Skyline...
"It throws out six hundred horses. Better than your 106, pal." Ross said, jokingly, looking across at the insanely riced out 106 that he assumed the red hooded fellow had driven into- it looked like it had more subwoofers than horses packed inside.
"You fucking what bruv?"
"You fucking starting?"
"Leave it, yeah?" One of his mates had to intervene, as the hooded figure backed off, Ross chuckling.
"I'll fucking key your car, see how that carbon fiber looks after." Hoodie man simply said, as he walked away, one of his mates looking at Ross with a certain "Sorry my mate is a dickhead" type of look, but he didn't look totally unsympathetic. Ross could hold himself- those scumbags wouldn't do a single thing, not against him. Ross wasn't a very built fellow, but he looked intimidating enough and when push came to shove, he could break an nose and take several of your teeth out with a good uppercut. Ross got off the bonnet, seeing Kimberly in the distance, the brunette that he called his wife looking as beautiful as ever. It was something about it, that they were both petrolheads, both suiting each other. It was a nice feeling, to know that. He waited for her to come back, before they'd get their cars up and running for the "race" that was going on- if it was going to go on.

[Bee]

Kimberly walked around curiously, taking a close look at what the gearheads of Britain had to offer. She knew about those riced out Peugeots and Golfs and Fiestas around, but she knew that a scene like this would attract a lot more. Every country had an underground scene that offered a lot of generous sights to see. Like a year ago when she went on an adventure to Australia. They had quite the bit of saloons and sedans that were tricked out beyond belief. Tastefully too! Kimberly wished she was back in Australia, but she was here now. She was hoping to find something that really caught her eye. The brunette sort of had an underlying feeling that there was an entire section filled with the type of cars she was looking for. She just had to keep walking and walking past the numerous abominations and sorry excuses of cars that were parked here. These definitely weren't contenders. No way in hell. Kimberly had a big respect for Peugeots but this was just embarrassing. She was sorry that these cars had a rally lineage but came all this way to have... that. Big, fake, plastic wings that didn't give work for a damn. Kimberly took another turn and found a more impressive lineup of cars. She saw Evos, she saw M3 GT-S's, she saw many proper petrolhead cars that were worth taking a look at for more than just a quick second. Kimberly saw an Audi RS4 with its hood open coming up, and when she walked past she saw that it was packing some serious firepower. There were two turbos strapped to that V8, definitely giving it quite a punch. Next to that was a twincharged E60 M5, that had some firepower too. Kimberly's heart was starting to pound from sheer excitement. Was this it? Was she coming closer to the mecca of machines for Britain? Kimberly was super eager, a grin splitting her lips as she stepped into another sublevel of some sort.

This. This sublevel was a loading area of sorts, but in it were some of the most beautiful machines that Kimberly had ever laid her eyes on. There were plenty of already serious contenders here. This was probably the most prestigious out of all the cars here. One car that particularly caught her eye was a deep purple 993 Porsche 911 Carrera GT2. It was outfitted with a complete RWB bodykit, wheels and all. Kimberly couldn't help but to step in to take a closer look. She took a quick glance at the engine, examining it. This definitely packed some SERIOUS firepower to it. It was like two turbos had an engine attached to them. These were contenders. This Porsche was probably pushing 700+ horsepower, more horsepower than all those rice rockets up there combined. The GT2 wasn't even a common version of the 993 Carrera, but the fact that it was here meant that whoever owned this car knew their stuff. Speaking of the owner, Kimberly felt a tap on her shoulder and jumped a bit, shrieking before looking to her left, where a lady stood next to her.

"Can I help you?" She asked curiously, wondering what Kimberly was doing getting entranced in her car's work. The woman seemed to have a very thick Scottish accent, but it was soft and high pitched.

"Is this your car?" Kimberly replied, hoping that it was so she wasn't the only serious female gearhead in the area.

"Yeah... why do you ask?"

"I was just looking at it to see what it packed. You've got quite a set-up here." Kimberly remarked, leaning in closer to examine it further. This all looked custom made and fabricated by hand. Could it be that this was a homemade build?

"Oh? Is that so? Well everything besides the turbo and the engine itself is hand built or specifically catered." The woman continued to go into further detail about her car, Kimberly understanding every single word of it because what kind of gearhead would she be if she didn't, before she was snapped into attention again, "What do you drive?"

Kimberly took a while to remember the car she drove, before she regained total focus. "Oh. I drive a Skyline GT-R. R34" Kimberly said, smiling.

The woman in front of her grinned, "Oh, so that was you up there with the Subaru? That's your car?"

Kimberly only nodded, "How did you know?"

The woman smirked, "Because we can see all of you from down here. Why didn't you come find us sooner? Cars like yours don't deserve to be with the ricers. Neither does the Subaru."

Kimberly looked to the side, "Well... I didn't even know this area existed..." She laughed sheepishly, before rubbing her arm.

"Not from the area then?" The woman laughed, before sighing, "Just kidding. I could tell you weren't British just by the way you wore your clothes. I'm Joanne by the way." Joanne said, before reaching out her hand for Kimberly to shake

Kimberly shook her hand, before reciprocating the introduction. Joanne was a woman around the same height as Kimberly, she had the deepest hazel eyes Kimberly had ever seen and brown hair a few shades lighter than Kimberly's.

"Come, let me show you around." Joanne said, taking Kimberly's hand dragging her out to the middle. Kimberly saw cars that weren't even out yet, or had no business being in Britain. Such as the 2016 Ford GT, Corvette Z06 (C7), a couple Ferrari 488 GTBs, a Lamborghini Aventador, and Ross's favorite car in the world, a McLaren P1. There were a few other souped up sports cars, but those were the ones that caught Kimberly's eyes the most. "You're participating in the race tonight, right?"

Kimberly nodded, "So is the Subaru."

Joanne smirked, "Then why are you guys up there? You should be down here! Everyone down here is in the race. They're all pushing 700+ horsepower." A Porsche 918 pulled in a few moments after Joanne finished her statement. It was in a beautiful black and at this point Kimberly was just in utter awe. "Whoever got you into this race needs to get their shite together. Didn't you know this was where all the participants go?"

Kimberly shook her head, before she checked her watch.

"You need to get your arse back up there and park that Skyline and Subaru in here. We're starting in a few." Joanne warned, before she tapped the roof of her Porsche. "By the way, good luck. I don't know the next time I'll see you anyway." Joanne winked, "But you'd best be getting your arse up there right now."

Kimberly nodded and started to head her way back up, "Thank you!"

There was no indication of acknowledgement from Joanne, which was fine considering she was taking a seat in her Porsche and chilling. Kimberly walked back up hastily to get back to her Nissan. Those cars struck some fear in her. She hadn't raced since she had her daughter, and she hadn't had any time to polish any of her racing skills which concerned her greatly. She passed the Audi yet again, before turning the corner back to Ricer alley. She could see her car in the distance along with her husband, just before she was interrupted by a chav stepping in front of her.

"Hey there, lass." The chav said, adjusting his adidas cap, before motioning for his mate to come over, "This is the Skyline girl, yeah?"

The chav's buttbuddy only nodded.

"Lass... you know you've got quite an ass on you, yeah?" The chav said, putting his hands on Kimberly's waist. Kimberly was only focused on her car.

"Mmm... I'd fuck your arse for days..." The chav laid hands on Ross's property, and that was when Kimberly cut him off.

"Nope." She said stripping his arms from her ass, "Not ever."

The chav tried putting his hands on her again but before he could he was met with a punch square on a jaw which laid him out. This was all in the view of her husband, who she hoped wouldn't do anything since Kimberly proved time and time again she could handle herself in any situation of any sort. Before she could do anything else she was met by a punch in the face and that sort of gave her a nosebleed and a slight bruise on her cheek. Kimberly got sort of mad and punched him straight back, breaking his nose before he lied down and screamed in pain. Kimberly wiped away her bloody nose before walking back to Ross. "They're not gonna sue. No way they'll admit to me kicking their ass." She smiled, before wiping more blood away from her nose. "Do I still look okay?" She asked, trying to keep any more blood from dripping out of her nose. She waved off the previous statement, "But anyway, we need to get our asses down to the loading dock. All the race participants are down there, and believe me. It's a fucking carousel of cars." She said, before pulling out the keys to her GT-R and entering her. Kimberly took a moment to roll down her window and indicate for Ross to follow her. Kimberly's Skyline revved loudly, signaling to get the fuck out of her way or eat Japanese metal. She drove slowly back the way she came from, making approximately three right turns before finding herself in the loading dock again. Every single person in there looked up as the headlights of the Skyline reflected off the car in front of it.

Kimberly slowly drove in and turned right, before putting it into reverse and turning off the car. Joanne was the first to greet Kimberly with a hug, before backing off and wondering why exactly she had a slight bruise on her cheek. Joanne dismissed it. "You weren't kidding about the Skyline." Joanne remarked, before she saw the Subaru pull in. "What's your relation to the Subaru?" Joanne asked curiously, looking at it as it parked itself. It looked so out of place but then again so did Kimberly's Skyline. Kimberly smiled, "He's my husband." Joanne smiled, before making a cutesy noise. "Kids?" She asked curiously. Kimberly held up one finger, "Just a girl so far. One and a half years old." Joanne oohed, before making one more remark. "Wouldn't have taken you for a mother. Your figure is way too incredible and your face is just soo young!" Kimberly blushed, "Oh stop it." She said, smiling before her husband disembarked from the car. As Kimberly went to greet her husband, Joanne squinted and made out Ross. She walked over to see who exactly this man was and what he looked like. Maybe from this she could figure out what their babies would look like. As she walked in even closer, he looked awfully familiar. Really familiar. It could be mistaken identity. As Kimberly planted a kiss on his cheek, she looked at Joanne. "Oh yeah. Ross this is Joanne, Joanne this is Ross." Joanne seriously remembered him, but she couldn't figure out from what. She figured it was just her being dumb. "Nice to meet you."

[FourtyTwo]

Ross continued looking over at Kimberly, as she started talking to another car girl, by her beautiful Porsche 911, that looked like it had been well and truly hand-crafted. The unique style of Japanese tuning that RWB did with these cars was unbelievable, and Ross never stopped to admire it. Still though, his own Subaru was a wonderful car. 2003, a year that had produced in Ross's opinion the best of the WRX STIs, with it's distinctive hood scoop and big spoiler at the back. This was, however, a car that had undergone a full plastic surgery, and had gone under the knife for liposuction. It was carbon fiber for good reason. The glass was replaced for thinner and lighter polycarbonate, and the bonnet, roof, aero and boot were all high-tensile carbon fiber, barely even painted to remove more weight- the basis for the bumper bodykit being from Olsbergs' modification for WRX STIs of this period, though Ross had taken out the angle grinder and buffer on many an occasion to make it suit his needs. BBS SI's on the rims, 19 inch, giving the rubber only a few centimeters of thickness on the carbon-fiber. It matched the matt paint of the car, and it looked very much like a Black Horse- coincidentally, the car's nickname. Black Horse. Like the stallion of type, this car was a very scary beast indeed. The engine had been taken to bits and rebuilt piece by piece by Ross, the EJ25 engine inside being painstakingly taken apart. It was like open heart surgery at times, Ross reminded himself- replacing at least half of the already high performance engine with parts that were compatible with his build, to take the extra power and strain from nitrous, remapped ECUs, a Quaife short-throw racing six speed and the extra performance parts that were going in. Gaskets, cylinder heads, bores, everything was either changed entirely or modified extensively. Then putting that back together and back in, the boxer engine inside being fire-breathing, with a distinctly rally-based sound. The inside was stripped bare, a rollcage fitted and two bucket Recaro seats, with a MOMO wheel and racing dash put in it's place, the dash mostly stripped away. There was a sound system, but not a booming one, and it wasn't the most comfortable ride, with Ohlins shocks and dampers fitted to provide a stiff ride. The rear diffuser and modified exaust system made the rear of the car look aggressive, while the bodykit didn't just have an aesthetic design- it was hardcore aero, and sucked the car to the ground, the design not ruining the original curves but serving as an extension, their lattice-carbon fiber color going well with the matt black paint of the car, having only the slightest of shine that worked well with the carbon fiber. A Recaro sticker sat over the top of the front windshield with a small Scottish flag on the rear windscreen top, and two medium-sized tanks of a NOS Nitrous System was swept behind the passenger seat, delivering a wet shot of nitrous on demand, or a progressive and stable delivery that tweaked the power by another 20bhp throughout. All this meant that Ross had 550bhp in a package that weighed 1,020kg. The lightest Subaru you could probably get, because there was virtually nothing left that weighed anything substantial, and delivered a stupid amount of power. With the turbo having an anti-lag system that fired like a Kalashnikov on demand, and a remapped ECU, it was able to throw out those 550 horses to a four wheel drive system on a car that won several World Rally Championships, and on wet tarmac, was probably unbeatable on city streets. Outside, it was lightly damp, but that would do. Kimberly's R34 was a wonderful car, but it was that for a different reason. Powerful as hell, but Ross knew that his car was sharper, and personally tested. It was a car for Time Attacks, not street racing. But for the latter, it would do just as well. Maybe it didn't have 900 horses like Kimberly's car, but this was a car that did surprise. Off the line, it could hit 60 in 2.8 seconds, and it could carry on going to 185, at which point Ross stepped on the brakes and didn't kill himself on the empty airfield- so it could do even more, in theory. The tyres, fat Pirellis, were semi-slicks and would relish well in slightly damp conditions, and the car was insanely grippy- not a drift car, but a car that could go through corners at mind-boggling speeds and hold up well, though the handbrake was always there if classic Ken-Block style four wheel drifts were in question. After all, the Subaru Impreza was a car that was built to conquer the WRC and the estate when it was pitched in the UK, and that it did deliver.

Turning his head back, he saw Kimberly take a punch, and almost reacted suddenly, before stopping himself, watching as she then knocked the fucker out, perhaps not literally but at least in social terms, put out of the game. He was on the floor in pain, and Ross remembered those words from Kimberly. She could look after herself, well and truly. As she came over, Ross gave a simple nod, looking over at Joanne, over in the loading bay of this construction site.
"You look like someone who was punched in the face, my dear. Come here." Ross walked over to her before he got in her car, and gave her a kiss, with an icy stare over at the men that had punched her. It would be a bad idea to mess with Mama Bear, sure, but with Daddy Bear, even worse. Ross knew that was a very strong truth indeed.
"They lay another hand, and you know I won't stop till they're on the floor in whatever condition. Let's go then. Show me your new friend. That is a beautiful Porsche she has. Gonna have to see if it has the power to back the look." Ross added, as he unlocked his Subaru and clambered in, putting the key in and starting the car up. The racing exhaust was most likely borderline illegal, especially when revved hard, the Boxer howled like a wolf. The Xenon lights on, Ross pulled out of the spot and followed the GTR in front, the turbo catching and backfiring hard when he put it into first, blue flame roaring from the twin exausts. This car never failed to really set itself apart. Ross could probably do an engine swap and make it throw out more, but nothing had the real acceleration and pulling power of the Black Horse. The acceleration was mind-numbing, and it was the delivery of such that made it feel special indeed.

Following right on Kimberly's tail, Ross skidded the car into the parking of the loading bay, the music still pumping, Ross parking in forwards rather than reversing into the spot. Clambering out, he undid his harness and stepped out, looking over at Joanne.
"Hi, I'm Ross. Nice to meet you too." He said, shaking her hand, as Kimberly introduced them both, the Scot looking around at the scene, before looking back at Joanne. A fellow Scot, he could tell in her accent, and she looked pretty beautiful- not as much as his wife, but like a gearhead that Ross could imagine coming down here.
"That is a wonderful Porsche you got there. Rauf-Welt RWB kit, that is rare." He added, looking over the car, whistling as he saw the engine through the spoiler.
"Nice. Ferdinand Porsche was not imagining this beast." Ross said, chuckling, as he looked closer at the rear-engined Porsche, looking over at Joanne, who was looking over his car.
"Before you ask, her name is Black Horse. 550 brake horse power, based on a 2003 Subaru Impreza WRX STI. It weighs only just 20kg over a tonne. It's a time trial car, I suppose. Handcrafted Carbon Fiber, and I've done some serious work in all the other departments that matter. You won't find a car like it." Ross added, chuckling, looking at the general vibe.
"Looks like there's going to be some serious competition. But a car is only as good as the person sitting behind the wheel. A riced out Corsa will beat a yuppie in a 911 if you put the right person in." Ross added, as he saw a couple more Beemers come into the construction site, before looking back at his wife and her new friend.
"Coppers will be lingering soon. I got a feeling about it. When they do come, we're going to need to break out of here fast. I'm thinking towards Surrey, down to the South Downs, no motorways, night roads."

[Bee]

The Black Horse might've been a machine, but that thing was probably going to have difficulty hanging with all these souped up cars. This wasn't like anything they'd experienced together. Not like the race in Europe back in '13. These cars were purpose built just for these types of events. Kimberly's car was one of those cars. Sure, the Black Horse might've had a good power to weight ratio, but at the end of the day 550 horsepower wasn't going to hang with conventional racing. Ross had a few tricks up his sleeve, but Kimberly had a better weapon at her disposal. Not even her husband knew what she packed underneath the hood of her Skyline. Kimberly was in possession of this legendary car since November 2012, where she imported it directly from Japan and had it legalized in California via her own means. This car wasn't just any regular Skyline GT-R. Kimberly wanted to go big. She had the money, and she spent it well. Kimberly sure knew how to capitalize on opportunities, and here she was driving one of the greatest cars in history. But the car wasn't always like this. When she got it, it was bone stock. It came with the factory settings that Nissan had put onto this amazing car. 450 horsepower out of the factory, ATTESA E-TS, the works. It was all good. But being the girl Kimberly was, she wanted more. The RB26DETT wasn't enough for her. She was determined to extract every bit of power she could from this engine for as long as it lasted. Over the years, the car had gained so much. Most notably a complete engine rebuild and turbo upgrades. A majority of the parts inside the Skyline were directly sourced from trusted tuners, such as Mine, Amuse, etc. The only thing that wasn't Japanese about the Skyline was the driver. The driver was as white as can be, and Kimberly didn't want it any other way. The only thing Kimberly had a slight discrepancy with was the color. The Skyline was a nice silver, and if it was up to Kimberly and not the gods at Nissan, she would've had it a nice Midnight Purple or have it the signature Bayside Blue. Black really wasn't Kimberly's favorite color when it came to cars. The only black car she really owned was the 2015 Subaru Impreza WRX STi she owned to cart her daughter around. Other than that, she would do any other color. The Skyline though, was the greatest car she will probably ever own. She hoped her life never got to the point where she had to sell it, as she planned to keep this car until it came time to pass it down to her daughter or something.

As Ross began to fangirl over his car, Kimberly looked at Joanne and rolled her eyes. "He really loves that car. Probably more than he loves me." Kimberly laughed, before Ross finally finished going over his car. Now that Ross was examining Joanne's car, the both of them sure hoped that he liked it as much as they did. Kimberly couldn't believe a RWB Porsche was participating in this sort of race. They were like unicorns, legends! The same could be said for her Skyline too, but the Porsche had been around for longer. Hopefully the race would be starting soon, but before Kimberly could ask, Ross said something that might've offended Joanne a little bit. "Is that an insult?" Joanne fired back, taking that a bit personally. She was far from a yuppie. Most yuppies probably didn't even know that Porsches were this old. But before Joanne could get angry, Kimberly tapped her on the arm. "Relax. He's like that. You should see what he says to other people." Kimberly quickly defused Joanne before he mentioned the rozzers. Kimberly hated police more than anything. They had to ruin her fun, but she had yet to be caught by the rozzers anywhere. It wasn't as easy as it looked though, every time she ran from the cops it took a few hours off her life. Trying to figure out where to go at a split second's notice. It was hard. The race needed to get started soon. Seemed like everyone was itching to go already. The race looked like it was going to have a lot of people in it. That meant a big pot, a big pot that was going to be Kimberly's.

Suddenly, everyone started to get in their cars, catching Joanne and Kimberly off guard before Joanne looked at her watch. "Oh shit, it's about time." She said, gesturing to the cars, "You better haul ass to your car. This is a running start. No lineup. As soon as you're off the property you're going to the finish line on your own." Joanne explained, before she pushed Kimberly towards her car. The former athlete sprinted to her car, opening it and climbing inside. The R34 roared to life, revving twice before she shifted into first gear. She didn't even ease into it. After Joanne dashed out in her Porsche, Kimberly floored it and drove up the ramp, driving frantically to find her way outside. All the other people in the meet looked confused at the sight of all these cars pouring out of the construction site. That was the way people made sure the race didn't attract much attention. Nobody knew how it started except for the racers themselves. Kimberly drove around the construction site, before finding an exit and rocketing out of there. The JDM rocket powered down the straight road ahead, going through gears rapidly as a text showed up on her phone with the finish line details. She pressed the address which launched a GPS app, immediately showing her the fastest way there and that was where she was headed.

[FourtyTwo]

Ross followed suit, throwing himself into his Black Horse, and seeing Kimberly pull out, followed her lead. Dust sprayed up, as Ross shifted from first into second, the sound of Ross's brakes allowing the turbo to spool a little, with a distinctive whine that followed almost immediately after. Pulling a left, Ross saw the other cars take flight, alongside Kimberly's R34 and Joanne's 911, with half a dozen hypercars and insanely hotly tuned cars now putting foot to floor. The Garmin on Ross's dash lit up, as the GPS recieved instruction, and the route came up. This was an interesting route, to say the least. It was around London Docklands, a real mixture it seemed. Someone had done their research. A close call with London City Airport, through the old Docklands, and through Canary Wharf and the Isle of Dogs, a route that was pretty much a sprint race from the site to a location on a suburban fringe, perhaps in Dagenham somewhere. The old Ford factory, to be specific. Classic, at least someone was thinking this through.
"Let's dance, then." Ross said to himself, as he threw the car into third, the car hurtling forward as the sound of the turbo and anti-lag was almost overbearing, very little sound protection inside. The short shift was wonderful, and throwing gears was great, as Ross saw he was towards the rear of the party. A P1, and an Aventador held up the area in front of Ross, as he took a left onto the dual-carriageway A13, the sight of the occasional car making this interesting. Those Hypercars had the edge here, but their drivers weren't as ready to use that, and were twichy on the damp tarmac, while Ross was absolutely pinned here.

Weaving out of another car, he took the exit and passed the Aventador, to a very confused driver, barely letting go of the throttle as he made a hard shift right, passing on a roundabout under the dual carriageway, the wheels barely getting sideways as Ross headed for the P1's rear like a heat seaking missile, the P1 out accelerating but not outgunning Ross on the exit. Turning hard left, for a sign signposted "London City Airport"- the smallest of London's web of airports, Ross saw the approach arise, as well as the sight of cops get exceptionally shocked as they headed through the tunnel that passed under a DLR route, or the light railway system around the Docklands of London. Turning hard right, he passed the P1 with a well executed four wheel drift, the P1 trying to close him down but to no avail. Now, there were at least half a dozen cars left to close in on, but Ross knew he had this. The sound of distant police said it all. They were going hell for leather, and Ross indeed was not letting go. Going onto the other side of the road to avoid a HGV, he noticed where the GPS was going to take them.
"How you fucking did this, I don't care, I don't know, but this will be fun to explain to the fucking police..." Ross added, as he hit the handbrake, a beautifully executed drift turn throwing Ross around the 120 degree bend, and into sight of the rest of the cars, as he realized what this was. This was a Cargo Entrance to the Airport, not a dart around the drop off areas. They were entering the runways.

Ross could only guess that this was something that would lead to having more than just his licence taken, and more than just a little prison time, as well as his garage of cars probably impounded. More likely, it could be far, far worse. Speeding through the gate, Ross turned hard through a set of containers, as a set of cones marked a route through the boxes and crates on this side of the runway, the GPS having one single marking towards the western edge of the runway, where another exit was marked off. This was insane. How the fuck they were doing this, he didn't know, but he knew it wasn't going to be a case of getting on that runway. If a plane came in, they'd be dead, the backblast and the risk to those people on board too. So he stayed in the taxiing area for cargo flights on the southern side of this runway, where they had entered, and he could tell the rest of the cars were too. Distant police sirens were getting closer, and even a slight buzz of a helicopter could be heard. Now this was a street race done properly. Foot to floor, he turned hard, passing by a pair of luggage carts, aware that the P1 was tailing him. It ran straight past, and thundered off, before braking hard, the driver suddenly spinning out as he came up to the checkpoint, unable to control the incredibly powerful hypercar and take it through the exit gate. Ross chuckled, speeding past, catching air on an exit ramp off the concrete runway, a couple of sparks flying from his low-down rear splitter. It hurt, but Ross didn't give a shit now. They were racing, and things happened that could be fixed.

Out of the airport, dozens of police cars could be seen, as Ross weaved past a couple of forklifts and HGVs by a few warehouses on this side of the airport's cargo and logistical nerve centre, exiting through the final gate as he finally caught sight of a C7 ahead. The V8 roared in that Chevy, but Ross knew the driver was holding it now on pure speed and tyre smoke alone. Not great, because Ross knew he would pass him, and pass him good. Shifting down, through a mini-roundabout Ross didn't even need to let go of the throttle for very long to be right back on it, a tiny tail kick from the Subaru allowing him to catch his tail very easily, the sight of a massive backfire and flame from the Subaru's exaust as he exited the corner saying it all. This car may have not had the power of some of it's peers, but in it's delivery, it was vicious. It felt like a Go Cart, with the tyres almost glued and pinned when he took it through corners, drifts either incredibly scary and near impossible to recover or simply a joy to execute depending on the angle of attack. In the case of the latter, it was whenever Ross had too much speed through a corner, and rather than under-steering, this car was primed to simply stick the rear down and give a little leniency on the tighter stuff.

Watching ahead, Ross saw the checkpoints on the GPS wind through the new housing that had been built here, taking a left through a couple of smaller roads, winding and weaving through parked cars and cars, cutting red lights as Ross shifted down to take a 90 degree bend. The C7 took it wide, and Ross capitalized, taking him on the outside, the C7 futile in trying to cut him off, as Ross saw Kimberly and Joanne ahead try to take on the pack leaders. This was turning out to be a race and a half, and the police were having trouble catching them. It seemed the route was clever- it kept the cops on their toes, and really intercepting where they would go next was proving exceptionally difficult- there were so many roads and numbers that the police were having a very diffiult time on their hands- interceptor vehicles wouldn't even catch them, such as the Met's own Subaru WRX STIs and EVO IXes. Ross had seen the car hit 170 on the taxiway, and through these roads, was averaging almost 90, often exceeding that on roads a few car widths wide, parked cars and traffic about. This was called lunacy at it's finest, but this was the street racing scene at it's perfection.