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9 yrs ago
If there are RPs/PM's I need to reply to- I am working on it, I'm a little overladen in life atm. I haven't forgotten about you :)
10 yrs ago
Aaand back.
10 yrs ago
ALERT- I'm going AFK for a week, anyone that sees this on here, I won't be about to respond, this is to both 1x1s/RPs.

Bio

I've RP'd for the best part of over 14 years now here on the Guild, and particularly like military settings, both contemporary, past and near future. I have even dabbled in a little more experimental RPs, as well as created a plethora of 1x1s over my time in the guild. I like creating RPs with a distinct flavour- and often shift between narrative-led RPs to semi-randomised plots.

I'm pretty flexible and try and get back to people on ideas and responses, but sometimes, I may become very busy and it will take some time till I am un-busy- though I always come back!

Most Recent Posts

Bumping this RP! We have been successful and there is lots of lore, but dive in if you like the sound of this RP!

For anyone who is keen, we have spots at the following teams for either and/or a team principal at the following:

Nordic Call
SuperCat
Fitzroy Orbital
Bumping this RP! We have been successful and there is lots of lore, but dive in if you like the sound of this RP!

For anyone who is keen, we have spots at the following teams for either and/or a team principal at the following:

Nordic Call
SuperCat
Fitzroy Orbital
Enzo "Santi" Laste Valenzuela


Somewhere outside the Compound
Africa


Condor's Overwatch


With Santi popping the drone up, he brought his NVGs off and switched to an FPV set of glasses, using them over a tablet in the night and clipping them. They were a little less light-polluting than the tablet would, be especially in the night. And while the regular camera would be useless, the thermal imaging was about to be extremely useful.

Sitting down, Santi used the blacked out tablet and an adapted joystick to take the drone above the forest canopy, whizzing out of sound and keeping a low orbit. Equipped with a FLIR thermal imaging camera, the drone worked in white hot, with Santi flicking to black hot to make out the buildings and structures in depth and detail better. He took a good amount of time to take it in, making a survey through the small quadrotor.

"This is Condor, drone has eyes on compound. I have two four-man patrols, northern end and southern end of the village making sweeps. Armed with AKs and an RPK in each group. Looks like they've got a Hilux with a DShK on the back of it and another one without it. Most of the village is lights out, asleep. Truck with an HMG wasn't in the plan." Santi described, bringing the drone around for another sweep, clinical now, and making acutely aware his discomfort of such as large gun being in the village at this time. Inaccurate as it was, it fired big rounds, most of all, rounds that would penetrate clay.

"Eyes on compound internals. Two guards on the gate, looking distracted. No sightlines to anyone else. Two more men by a fire inside, which means that it leaves the rest inside. No view on that, garage is open and looks like they're missing guards at the side gate." Santi called out, looking at the lay of the land.

"Confirm on CCTV on the buildings, in the locations identified from earlier. They're all as described. They look like they have significant deadzones, cannot ascertain their angles but it looks like you can avoid them once spotted." Santi called out, zooming in with the FLIR, watching for anyone else, steering the drone around another angle.

"Looks like another pickup truck in the compound itself too. Still hot, it must have been running so either they have less, or more skinnies inside." Santi added, adjusting his helmet a little as he kept the drone in loiter, popping off his goggles and moving at a brisk jog towards the team, keeping tail end covered, avoiding separation.

"On station if you need more intel. Looks like a quiet night for us. Not unless that MG opens up." Santi uttered into the comms, flicking off the glasses and putting the drone in a higher position on the opposite side of their angle of attack and as high as he felt comfortable putting it, aware he would need it on station to monitor activity. He networked it to his phone, placing the device on a holder on his chest rig, allowing him to flip to it and flip out, and giving Megan and anyone with the frequency the same.

Santi felt prepared, ready for this. The team was made of professionals, and while they were more geared, probably more experienced in conventional warfare, Santi already felt like he had a feel of this warzone.

The eye in the sky watched, and with it, all enemies outside were on sight, and seen, the ones that at least Santi could get to. Condor struck again.











Productive and Industrious


Soundtrack: Icarus- October

In each factory, prep for Monaco, after unpacking the spaceplanes was near immediate. Formula AG had weeks to go till the Season Break, and until then, the teams were in full force.

Everything from product design to part production was covered. The sketches in holographic aperture, to then the process of milling it via 3D printers, or via raw materials, and then sculpting it into perfection, a cut across all the teams displaying advancements, modifications and changes to come. A montage of engineers, doctors, designers, and everything inbetween, getting to high tech, cutting edge racing performance.

From Valkyrie’s new chassis, built in an even more strictly enforced cleanroom, where it then got sprayed in the new colours for the team, to then the attachment of parts. Pilots going through changes to the neural link with the new parts, like getting used to a new limb, the factories and design centres, alongside associated CFD and wind tunnels, bit by bit, the hives of each of the team’s factories, associated campuses, engineers, bots, pilots, piece by piece, bit by bit, came together. From sim sessions, to neural tweaks, the world kept turning after a horrific crash. The clocks ticked, as the forces that acted behind the scenes assembled the ships for the next race to come. The one that required the opposite of Monaco's problems, where friction was back but the corners demanded all of it for rotating the ships through them.

And for Nora, it would be a new dawn. Waking up with new limbs, and getting used to movement, let alone the concept of racing again. But as they said in the 1980s, they had the technology. And that they would to get her back in, if she desired it. Media was tight lipped on that one, but the press had gone a storm with the crash, and safety had been raised. FIAR had kicked up a stink, and vowed it would never happen again, not with repulsors and Earth-like gravity being a known factor. Monaco was a lower speed circuit, and the risks were controllable, manageable, and after the virtual Pilots Forum, had been given the go-ahead.

So everyone was preparing, and gearing up. Teams heading to Nice Airport and then shipping their goods on the French Riviera, towards the Jewel of the Mediterranean.




GLAMOUR////RISK




Casino de Monte-Carlo, Monaco


Dorian Pascal Hornfleur


Soundtrack: Hybrid- Tunnel Vision

The black bars widen, as Dorian clambered out of the 2014 Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Blackbird framed in front of the Casino de Monte-Carlo, a nearly priceless car at this point, dressed up in a fine dark grey suit, with yellow stitching that just made the outer jacket pop a little, albeit was humble enough to not go all gaudy and be too much.

“Welcome to Monaco. Glitz, glamour….and glory.” The voiceover is distinctly Dorian’s, with a French accent as a valet takes his keys, Dorian more the image of Bond, rather than Dorian Pascal Hornfleur, racing driver. But we’re in for this narrative. A fun little sideshow, as he walks in, the concentrated, opulent luxury of the Casino before him.

“The mission is simple. Win the biggest race of them all. With a ship that turns and does so with poise, faster than anything before it.” Dorian does not hide any indulgence in this. Oh, this is hints of spy thriller, because everything here bleeds it. The cameo, if you happened to spot it, was that of what appeared to be a certain actress from Raven in discussion with an enormous, hulking seven foot figure that even would have scared Kais who was a bouncer here, her look fierce but keeping the ruffians out. Apart from him, now on the floor.
Dorian walks through a small crowd, the camera catching the crowd to his side, at a roulette table, watching.

A croupier lays out chips, and the ball rolls inside a roulette wheel, the wheel spinning, spinning, spinning, the camera above it facing down at the wheel….

Revealing a 1960’s Lotus F1 roaring round the circuit at its own multi-spoked wheel, roaring through the unsafe, primitive Monaco circuit chasing after a Ferrari, cutting back into animation in a cel-shaded fashion as it fades out back to Dorian’s voice, and cutting through history in the various forms of animation of the glory days of Monaco.

“It is a glory reserved for few. And fewer repeat wins here. This is one of the Triple Crown, one of the most famous races in motorsport. To do well in Monaco is to be the ultimate pilot. Drivers like….Fangio. Senna. Schumacher. Hamilton. Starcross. Mulder. Lipponen.”
Dorian found his place, namely, a Craps table, with dice already in play.
The dice roll, and in them, the reflection of the races before. Verstappen winning, then the glorious fight between Starcross and Lundstrom, and lastly, Amy taking the top step last year, as the dice clatter across the green in that fade. That clashed with her voice coming back.

“Stirling. You did not think it was that easy to stop me, did you?” Amy sat across the table from Dorian, wrapped up in a beautiful silver dress, absolutely framing her like the villain that she portrayed herself as, simply a siren out here and as unblemished, platinum hair just adding to that effect. She shovelled chips across the table, clattering twice with her metal nails at the end of her prosthetic hands. The chips fell, revealing Silver Apex’s logo, holographically growing. She was playing the villain.

“A bold call, Madame.” Dorian noted, as Amy shrugged, the lack of care acted phenomenally well, given she was experienced at it.

“Well, you wanted a game. Let’s have one, Monsieur Hornfleur. We appear to have the same mission.” Amy shot back, and Dorian with it shoved a big pile of his chips into the middle, with Valkyrie’s logo to boot across them. He smirked back and nodded to the croupier, looking back to Monaco. And with it, the montage of previous races coming back, as did his voice.

"Monaco is a different game to most. Here, it’s not just about speed….it's about style, precision, and knowing exactly when to make your move. Every turn here is a calculated risk, every lap a dance with danger…every overtake, an all in." Dorian’s voice replies as if back to the audience, charming as ever.

Senna’s Golden Lap in 1988, screaming with a V6 Hybrid taking more risks than humanly thought possible, to Starcross nailing it in the rain and pulling off three overtakes, to Dorian’s own triumph almost a decade ago, and then, Amy’s recent victory with a smashed up Valkyrie ship, badly hit with Cassie Neves herself last season sobbing as she clambered out, and then cut back to Florence Mason being thrown into the pool at Piscine, from her head-mounted camera, then dropping into the water, bubbles rushing up from her point of view and fading gently. As the music dropped back, the scene cut into the Casino table once more, and the look of Amy’s fierce response.

“Then let’s find out how far you’ll go.” Amy shot back, her metallic-carbon arms leaning on the table, head turned to the croupier with expectancy.

“No more bets, thank you.” The croupier with it threw the dice, and the scene cut back to the present day, burying the camera into black.

The scene shifts, panning slowly to the gleaming pit lane of the Monaco AGP. Under a canopy of neon reflections in the Monaco evening, the high-tech AG ships stand ready—a fusion of advanced carbon composite engineering, in each tiny bit box, which was interrupted by that iconic whine. Amy and Dorian's ships raced side by side towards Sainte Devote, and back up the hill, rushing past the Casino itself, no guardrails in place, blasting through the hairpin at Fairmont, and beyond the tunnel at Lavotto onto the glass/metal fusion of MAG tracking that sat right above the water, Dorian in the hunt for Amy, like some sort of chase from a thriller.

Their craft, glowing under the moonlit sky on the Monaco circuit as if it was literally after the game of Craps, mirrored the duality of Monaco itself. A suave extravagance that just oozed history. The camera cuts to a wide shot of the circuit as they race through the tight section of La Rascasse, the shimmering Mediterranean as a backdrop under the moonlight.

A contrast to the daytime race, but no less elegant, as the camera cut back in to the casino, the dice stopping in place on the table with the outcome unknown, but the camera pulled back from their reactions.

And across the room, leaning against a balcony looking down on it all, there was Helena Starcross herself, in her black dress, the 80 year-old, elder stateswoman of the sport. Her skin was remarkably well looked after, her look of someone who must have been 30 years younger than what some would have imagined. A lifetime of G-forces hadn’t ruined her charm, and she had refused to age. Medical technology at the right price, of course, ensured that without ruining her look entirely, she had many more years to go. A great-grandmother now, but still completely enjoying her little cameo in the sport.

“In Monaco, legends are made. This game is played with more than chips, those two fight, but it’s …more strategic than that. The race is set by the most important qualifying session of the year, where finding your state of mind matters more than anything else to find what cannot be found. Ultimate victory or heartbreaking failure….and win here, and your lap will echo in history. Winning here is like nowhere else.” Her voice sounded nearly regal, as she turned to the view outside, the harbour and the hover-yachts clashing against more traditional superyachts and old-school harbour buildings alongside state of the art, ultra-decadent design sitting next to it shimmering in the moonlight.

Welcome to Monaco indeed. In a world of reduced income inequality, with billionaires paying their taxes, the multi-billionaires wealth was a little more difficult to find. But it partied here, and it played on the tables of Casino Square.
“Time to see their hands.”




DELTΔ HYPER


Episode Seven: Roll of the Dice





Round 7 of Formula Anti-Gravity
Thursday 1st June, 2094
Practice Day
Monaco AGP
Casino de Monte-Carlo, Monaco
2000 EST




Soundtrack: Cream- Sunshine of your Love

As if to repeat that scene again, the pilots were all inside the Casino just after sunset, the function decidedly more private, and exclusive, kept up to things. They’d all arrived in ultra-exclusive AG luxury cars or older luxuries, and it was almost a point of ritual process that you drove into Casino Square and left the valet the keys to whatever you had come in on, or at least, were given VIP treatment and driven here. Or, of course, you could cycle in, or do something else....after all, traditions were traditions, but you could always stay extravagant if you made it your own.

Most races were of course, an elegant affair, but Monaco, that was something else. It felt like the Pilots were among Royalty, quite literally, and mingling at the most extravagant place that didn’t feel tacky or forced, like Dubai or Jordan. It felt like it couldn’t be more opposite to Luna and Silverstone at the same time, this circuit being so stepped in history and heritage that while it functionally produced poor ship-on-ship racing, it did produce magic for the sheer spectacle of how close the ships went to the barriers. From bankers to Nobel Prize winners, literal old aristocracy to legends of the scene, quite the variety were here.

Mingling around, any pilot would have come across something a bit different- unlike the yacht parties of tomorrow, this was formal wear, champagne and a post-dinner function, suits and dresses a must. Every piece of this screamed elegance, and unlike tomorrow, plus ones weren’t really on the list. Not unless you were royalty, either Albert II’s descendants or literally Helena Starcross, who had been in attendance and spoken a bit about the history of it with the Prince and in particular, his rally-driver daughter as part of the evening’s entertainment.

Quite a place, and no sponsors were in sight, it felt just like a ball that had a strong smell of biofuel from the pilots here, after practice, hosted now in the late afternoon and near sunset glow. This was for them, and a pure mingling site, with even a few Junior AG pilots in attendance among the legends of the sport. The lap, on the traditional Circuit de Monaco had a big corkscrew-like hairpin with MAG tracking after the tunnel section (side-stepped with MAG tracking due to the ships scraping the roof in 2082)- the only overtaking zone outside of something insane like Sainte Devote or the hairpins. You would have to be borderline psychotic to overtake there.
But it wasn’t impossible.

Monaco always had surprises, but the glamour, the absolute peak of the opulence of it, from the cars, jewels, clothing and feeling, was on display here.



Wondering over, Harrison found the sight of Bea, Harrison dressed up smart with a black tuxedo and bowtie, embracing his cheekie-chappy personality as ever, even in total formality.

“Hey hey, superstar! You are doing numbers on socials right now, you know?” The Aussie cheerfully smiled, knowing he'd kept up a good relation with Bea since. Then again, not many people really hated Harrison. Even Amy, for all her faults, still had a playful rivalry that wasn't borderline murderous.

“Italy was amazing. I was going to say, after that, my phone is ringing off the hook, and bloody hell, it even convinced Owen to go easy on me with risky stuff. You seem to be the common denominator for all this thing on the grid, you know….” Harrison asked, knowing more sponsor events would follow. And Bea was positioned for that. Her and the team were spending big here on sponsorship features, press and so on. Maybe it would mess with her race training time, but Carrera were clearly making a statement in Monaco, perhaps as much as the other big teams were. And Harrison just wanted to make sure he was around a cut of it.




Amy on the other hand, had found Han, a rather unconventional pairing, but the conversation had seemingly brought them together here, as the silver-dressed, blonde hair having, diamond earring-lobed champion breaking the ice that was the Zygon pilot, glass of Prosecco in hand.

“Hey, Han. Pleasure to meet you. I suppose I did not introduce myself very well outside of our antics on track.” Amy’s fluent Korean came without the use of an Earworm, given her own origins- her mother being from Busan had given her the half-Korean side to her British origins. "Perfect in every way. Your face up on billboards. I know how that feels. And the future to come.” Amy chuckled, shaking her head, looking across to Cassie, who was chatting with Kofi at the moment.

“I suppose it is tricky having an outsider in the team. I had it with Cole Marnier, right before he retired at Zygon. Quite the character.” Amy added, looking her up and down, getting that feeling of superiority. So Amy didn’t pretend she could outdo her. She simply just gelled into her method. Her weak spot.

“I won’t ask about how you play the politics. You’re far too smart for it. But….from someone who was in your position, I just wanted to say you are doing well. Some of them, I imagine you’ve figured out who, might not be the most competent. Between us….” Amy whispered, leaning in.

“How Jinwoo is there is beyond me, and that was back then. You’ll get better because they'll make him retire if where you are is continuing, and someone who’ll look after you properly. And you deserve that.” Amy uttered, knowing her own beef with the TP back in the day- and sensing that she could be blunt with Han here. She was of Zygon in years past, after all, and knew how the machinery on the inside worked. She hadn’t been cast far from it.




And last, a certain Helena Starcross, in much the same black dress as earlier followed alongside Dorian, who she had been chatting to. A friend from a while ago, and given she’d broken away from talking to the literal Prince of Monaco, who was in amongst the crowd.

“Ah, there you are, Paul, this is Ms Starcross. This is my team-mate.” Dorian beamed, knowing it was more likely than not Paul would be a little starstruck by this.

“Oh please, call me Helena. Good to meet you. I remember seeing your father race when I was a pundit. He was so good. Looks like you’re living up to him from what I read. It’s a pleasure.” Helena seemed contemplative, comparatively, slow, but her Northern accent and her PR-groomed charm had given back to her original playful self, humble yet regal. She had no neural link, but that handshake she gave Paul would send a feeling that he was talking to someone significantly older than him, almost four times his age. She was older than Mabel which you could tell in the little details beyond her skin and body that had been kept incredible well in shape. Helena seemed like she was moving around completely normally, fit and healthy of mind even- like decades hadn’t mattered.

“Paul, Helena says she wanted to do a piece with you on the ship’s design. On heritage. Would you like to help her out with this tomorrow after qualifying? It may take up a bit of time from the party, but if not, I am sure it will be fine.” Dorian nodded, as Helena chuckled, shrugging.

“Well, it is no bother. I would come to the party but I can tell you, my days of that are over. Back in my day though….we didn’t have those tools for removing alcohol from blood. You had to just deal with it!” Helena chuckled, her mind as sharp as ever, for an octogenarian still going strong.

In that conversation, Helena seemed like a beacon- and anyone could chat to her, or make introductions. No doubt they would recognise her, and whilst many debates about the best pilot or driver existed, in modern history, on pure stats alone, Starcross was that perfect peak. She'd be welcome to talk to them. Not often you got a chance to meet F1 royalty...



Before Qualifying

Café Villeneuve, Monaco
Friday, June 2nd, 2094
0950 EST


The High Life




Soundtrack: Portishead- Glory Box

The interview was during the morning light, with Aurora herself dressed up nicely given the presenting that was required for various media outlets later, taking a seat inside the Café Villeneuve, yes, named after a particular Canadian driver, but it had a relevant French connection. With this particular part of Monaco, that meant it sat barely at the water’s edge given the one meter of global sea rise, now seemed almost on level with it at the floor. At Sainte Devote, corner one, it had a view of the hill and the harbour behind.

The café had been closed off, with the tables rearranged for Delta Hyper, and the limited filming crew, no screen behind hiding anything but clever continuity tricks in place to make it feel as if it was. Cups of strong-smelling coffee and tea were on offer, as were French pastries and goodies. It was incredible, if a French café was your charm.

The floors were a beautiful marble, the sound of a gramophone could be heard in the lobby, and the building itself felt absolutely chiselled into history, albeit with modern touches bringing the décor from the 1700s to the 2090s. On this Riviera, Monaco was tucked into a part of France that felt almost like Miami, but without any of the Vice, instead bringing true, timeless class and architecture to bear.




The first guest was in frame, as Aurora smiled, making introductions, before going straight into it. The son of Mr Monaco himself, Paul Mulder, in his team colours.
“Paul, welcome to Delta Hyper. We hear this is a circuit you have been looking forward to for a while. Would you like to tell us more about your livery on your ships this weekend, and what it means to you as a dedication to your father?”




Next up, the bouncy Brit in her rainbow-like Carrera colours.
“Welcome back, Bea. How would you say you’re dealing with the glamour of Monte-Carlo, and how does it compare to the launch of the WRC at Casino Square? Do you think you’ll catch up with Daniel Ogier this weekend, who’s popped down to see a race at his home?”



The next guest needed no introduction, in the café overlook and while teetotal and not able to enjoy the traditional fruits of this party on the sea, was here for other reasons- to find a way to win.
“Kais, welcome to Monaco, and back to Earth! With everything that happened on Luna, how do you and Layla find the comparison here in the bustling, manic streets of Monaco?”




Onto Han next, who was back to the sofa too.
“Han, welcome on Delta Hyper! With your recent momentum in previous weeks, how do you feel about the fight with Valkyrie so far in the championship?”




And last but not least- the pilot nobody may have imagined would be back for this race, perhaps let alone until after the Season Break, was sitting in the chair, in her Southern Cross colours.
“Nora, it’s wonderful to have you here. Your crash was a real horror one, and we are all hugely grateful to have you here. I think many are surprised you came back so fast, but we know how important Monaco is to our pilots! How are you feeling?”
Weds 31/05 Formula AG Pilot Group Chat

AStirling
@Paul You’re gonna need all the A Game you can get in Monaco, it’s a difficult circuit
Cassie Neves
@Paul The shit talking never ends :D
Jamie
That’s what she does, I mean Monaco is insane tbf, I love it, it’s like a go kart track for AG ships
Astrid
@Jamie when are you gonna stop being crap?
Jamie
@Astrid when are you gonna admit you have a gin problem? P3 on Luna babyyyyy
Astrid
*angry react*
Dorian
In another life @Astrid you’re an alcoholic and sitting in Finland driving tractors for a living and don’t even pretend it’s far off
Astrid
Okay boomer, 2060 called and it wants its memes back
Also, when you own a gin brand people want to know it’s your own making, @Bea is out here spraying stuff herself, and also, I run transfusions and suckering when I need it?
Dorian
This is some cope
Kofi
Children please
Harrison
@Cassie yeah but it’s Monaco, Baby! Never a done deal- the overtakes on the corkscrew make things interesting but the pole lap matters. Get that right and you’re invincible. Best one of the entire thing for all the rookies to enjoy. The ship may drift but anything happens at Monaco 😊 @AStirling
AStirling
Yeah Monaco is good. @Harrison try not to flip it out again like last year :D

Also we got some historics coming up for Silverstone, they got me to organise it cos I’m just that cool (apparently). So far @Bea has a 2020 Mercedes lined up, @Han @Paul @Nora @Kais, there’s a few options, have a look at the PMs. @Dorian @JenLowry I got you a 1980 Renault and Aurelie Loeb’s 2065 Audi, Delta Hyper want an intro and we’re all contractually obliged to do it so may as well on our own terms
Dorian
Arnoux’s turbo charged beast? @AStirling you know how to make a veteran happy! Mon Dieu!
Jen Lowry
Literally my idol when I was a kid! Thanks @AStirling, thought no models were left
AStirling
I do what I can, those four lemme know what you want or else it’s go-karts again
Wedge
@Dorian is so French he has a baguette in one hand and a Renault on the other
Jen Lowry
Not wrong
Dorian
@Wedge Putain d’merde 😉
Ava Villarosa
Speaking of….
News on Felix was just dropped, yeah as @Bea says we didn’t know, genuinely. He is already settling in and got a warm welcome here, also too many Argentinian fans are making German jokes and he doesn’t know why
Dorian
@Paul @Bea Felix is a real a good guy, do not mention wine around him though, he has opinions on it, typical Pfalzer and I don’t want the Argies to hurt him even though he broke our hearts
@Ava Villarosa I made those jokes with him as well when he told me
Ava Villarosa
@Dorian We know about the wine, he already started messing with the wine fridge in our hospitality and one of the engineers wasn’t happy
Dorian
That sounds like him, typical German interference
Ava Villarosa
Yeah
Any results on the crash? Initial report looked grim. @Nora and me would love to know
Kofi
Yeah results came back, repulsor issue, looks like they underpowered it to make sure it didn’t stall ships in the sector, looks all fixed for future
AStirling
Did they beef up Montreal’s?
Kofi
Yeah all good, sorted
AStirling
Cool, last year was a nasty one, sending lots of love your way @Ava Villarosa @Nora
Ava Villarosa
Thanks @AStirling, new legs and healed up, good to go, wonders of modern medicine…
Wedge
Your new prosthetics look SICK on your socials, lemme guess someone had a hand in that….
Ava Villarosa
You know who sprayed them, she’s got a career in this if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out @Bea
Wedge
@Bea I’m gonna have to get you to sort out my new ink! Serious talent on you (and on track too….)
AStirling
You are gonna make her blush
Dorian
@Paul and @Han are still getting shipped by the media and that makes me blush
Jamie
Are they actually?
Cassie Neves
Lol no
Layla
I mean where there’s smoke there is fire…
@Nora hit me up if you need anything, the prosthetics stuff is scary at first but you’ll be ok 😊
Wedge
@Kais and you seem like a combo Layla! Both of you seem very different but come across well on pressers!

Very nice of you, Bionic Layla really does have a heart of gold 😊
Layla
You get used to him, he’s a big softie really (you haven’t seen him around cats)
And don’t worry, I don’t intend to lose humanity that far too soon (though funny you say about a heart of gold, they actually figured out it's really good as a thermal layer next to my other bits)
Kofi
I was going to send him something about that actually @Layla, can you put in me in touch?
Layla
@Kais (I’ll tell him too as he doesn’t see this chat sometimes).
Cassie Neves
Boat stuff got sorted @AStirling @Astrid?
Astrid
YAS
AStirling
Yep
Dorian
Cool, there’s stuff in the Casino de Monte Carlo Thursday night before it all kicks off if your boat stuff is on Friday night after qualy, seriously swanky event. Should we all meet there? Last time?
Astrid
You’re so old @Dorian, casinos?
AStirling
I’ll stop by the casino, I guess it’s your last time there @Dorian before you retire, may as well make it an occasion?
Dorian
Thanks Amy, you’re generous!
Henry
I’ll come along too then, why not
Harrison
Count me in, you living out your Bond fantasy @Dorian?
Dorian
Haha, as much as Amy is living out her Raven one
AStirling
Nothing quite like Monaco…
Harrison
We’re on our way to Monaco now. Long bloody flight
Kofi
Back in my day it was worse….
Jamie
Lol you are not helping yourselves
Cassie
You neither
Enzo "Santi" Laste Valenzuela


Combat Rock


April 27th, 2025


@Alfhedil@Theyra

"I will guide you in, but I will not be shy when things go hot." Santi kept his retort to Juichi and Karishma simple, before he had gotten back to arming up, and before his chat with Arsala.

@Smike

Si, a huaso. But....it doesn't have the same carry in America. Perhaps I have watched too much Clint Eastwood." Santi replied in turn with a grin, the pup staring up at the Chilean's brown eyes, a guarding, defensive, extremely serious posture, finishing up his prep, nodding in agreement with Arsala's last comment, watching Megan join in with Jamison, conversing with the local. Santi stayed out of it, watching, keeping silent for the moment being. He had nothing much to add, as he checked his gloves and combat rig over once more, boots tied, fatigues readied, and the unusually work-formal Chilean ready to go. Some might have pegged him to be a bit more casual, especially in this line of undisclosed work, but he stayed relatively fatigued up because it was honest to what he knew. A reminder, almost psychologically, and with the others coming back to him, he knew he had some to trust.




The dusty yellow Mercedes van, possibly an ex-German post office van with no livery, or just something fallen off a container ship was clattering. It was possibly something that had felt like it had hit a million miles and come back from the 90s looking worse for wear clattered on the washboarded roads and Santi could only keep his jaw open to stop his teeth rocking against each other. Standard third world conditions, first world weapon in hand, and a HVT to extract. And they'd barely been here an hour. Not a bad way to get started.

Rifle at point to floor, Santi held onto the frame of the door before following Megan out of the door, flicking his GPNVGs down over eye, the gentle green light illuminating the darkened jungle beyond the van. Christopher and Megan conversed, as Santi paid it no mind, rifle raised, the KS-1 and adjoining M320 tight in clutch.
"Condor, set." Santi called, keeping perimeter, hearing Meg break and with it, following the team lead, into the gentle brush and watching beyond the trees at the chatter of cicada and the smell of leafy green trees in the night masking their approach in.

Moving to the next set, Santi took a knee, looking forward into the distance at the structures in the village.
"Eyes on structures. No eyes on hostiles. Meg, my drone is ready when you need for overwatch."
Round 6 of Formula Anti-Gravity
Sunday 21st May, 2094
Race Day
Lunar AGP
Mare Austral, nr the South Pole of the Moon
1700 Lunar Coordinated Time (LCT)


Harrison Makara


Soundtrack: Pendulum- Propane Nightmares

"Primed and ready. Let's go do this." Harriet Vine's words, his Kiwi race engineer were enough to fire up Harrison, looking at the two white and green ships in front, and the podium spots that sat waiting. Harrison had half a feeling Layla was on some sauce lately. Way she was flying, she was cooking, but then again, Harrison had a feeling from his last lap in practice, that hadn't come through in qualy, he had something too.

The media, from the L-Ball shenanigans, to the vlogging, the bouncing about sightseeing on the surface of another celestial body, all of that reverted back to a race that for the pilots, was what they were paid to be here to do, and wanted the glory of.

Four, Three, Two, One.

And the acceleration jolted, as the turn immediately faced towards Earth, dust skewering from ships in front and fading on the metallic sections of track, that then gave way to the magnetic MAG tracking that latched the ships through tighter corners, where drifting the ships didn't work, then that physically sent the ships through at full throttle, and at a camber.

With the ships away, Harrison left Ava on the start and immediately hopped past Kais, exploiting him on the first few corners and pushing a fairly aggressive move, by the kind that even Kais would unerstand that the title-chaser. Almost as if to say "I'm hunting a title" and well, it was obvious that from a crap qualifying Harrison had put his game face on. Gone was the curly-haired, chilled out half-Aboriginal Australian, in was the Aussie that wanted to just hunt and hunt and well, he was not giving an inch. No matter if Kais and Layla were pushing neural mods, Harrison wasn't needing a brain, he just knew how to channel his want and to see if Kais and Layla were willing to respond. And even for Layla, the Queen of Luna as some called her, Harrison was catching faster and faster.

"Lovely moves there." The cordial tune of Harriet in Harrison's ear was barely a fade, because he didn't need to worry too much about strategy. (Harriet and Harrison, well, it seemed too perfect a coincidence and Southern Cross played fun with that marketing). Going from 4th to nearly 2nd, Harrison waited and waited, and then in Section 3, through the hard cambered turns in the tight technical section, he made his move. Just Amy to go. Whatever it was, even in spite of the time he had spent with Nora, he was feeling alive here.

"Keep the chat down. Just tell me how many seconds to Amy." Harrison replied, another side of him coming out, the kind that felt like for this moment, he wasn't interested in anything else. He was like a lion roaring, and the ship's whining internals felt like for a moment, he was hitting perfection.

It was hard to explain, but that flow state, that mindset, it wasn't mechanical, no pilot mod working perfectly, it just felt like for a moment, it all came together. And Amy right there, and then, was for the taking. Sector 1's medium to fast corners, Sector 2's nearly blazing fast yet undulating plains sector, followed by Sector 3's tight, technical, partly-inverted turns that forced concentration were making Harrison work, yet he was perhaps rolled rather lucky today in the grand scheme of things. Much that Amy hated it, because that points deficit was being eaten into bit by bit.




Layla Al-Nadir


And then came past Harrison. What the hell was he smoking today? The ship, her mind, her feeling, everything felt perfect, but through the twisty Section 3, through the barren canyon-like surface that inverted and then went 90-degree onto the wall, then back to level, a stomach-churning element, it felt odd.

From 2nd to 4th, this was becoming a nightmare, and she knew that Kais didn't have the pace either- the ship was skating far too much, it felt like whatever was in their pilot mods that should have put them on top here just wasn't working as it should have been, it felt like the adhesion in qualifying just wasn't there. Was it nerves? Layla wasn't sure, but something felt off, and even by her standards, and her mods that now seemed to bond her to the ship like nothing else, she could not find where Harrison was making his time up in the corners he was taking. It was strange looking at the

And then, of all people, Jamie managed to buzz by.

"How the f**k are they that fast?" Layla called to her race engineer, Marko Livakovic, who at this point was out of answers.

"Layla, your pace is good, they're just flying faster than they were in qualifying. We overplayed our hand, let's focus on the job and make up where they make mistakes. Come on. We can get good points here, let's not bin this. We can make it up in the second half, energy delta is very healthy as per our strategy on ELS, you are managing it extremely well, let's not be scared to pick up pace and put on the burner at the end when they have nothing to give. Yalla, Layla, Yalla!" The response was technical with a bit of fire to the end, which for Layla, was about exactly what she wanted to hear.

"Copy, I'll push." Layla replied, and with it, made sure to stick on Jamie's rear, seeing him bunch towards where Amy and Harrison were about to fight.




"What a race we are having so far, Jamie Hart is suddenly finding his feet with that Silver Apex ship, he's pushed all the way up to 3rd past the two Al-Saqr ships, and seems to be relishing in the opportunity. Al-Saqr are off pace, but I think Harrison just made them look silly, he looks like he has a point to prove!" Rory exclaimed, as Rosie noticed another.

"Wow, and what a result. We're noticing the Valkyrie ships seem to be off pace too, so Max has just passed into 8th, while Kofi Mensah has just passed Ulrich for 11th, my word what a race he is on! He looks possessed!"

"Speaking of battles, look at Kelly, she is fired up, she is going for Villarosa, she must know Makara is closing the gap to Stirling, and she does not want to miss out, she wants this title as much as anyone can in their rookie season..."




Life or Death


A collab with @Sylvan


Nora Kelly and Ava Villarosa


Rushing through the incredibly fast Sector One, Ava was locked in, the nearly flat corners taken with barely any flinch in her from MAG-strip to MAG-strip with the ship nearly tilted over completely to let the thrusters do their thing, the latching grip like a long drift getting instantly cancelled and the ship whipped forwards across the Lunar surface. It was strange watching ships race here, so far from home. But focus was focus, and well, points were points for Carrera Condor. Ava was in her zone, the getaway quick and a quarter of the way into the race, holding 5th was a miracle. In her zone, even though Jamie had overtaken her.

And yet there she was. Right behind her, Nora Kelly, the distinct colour of the navy and yellow ship, tinged with a slight green hue, chasing after the slower, arguably out of place Carrera Condor ship in it’s splendid black, white and rainbow-Wipala coloured livery, tantalising across the surface, and in Sector 2, the harder one that demanded sharper hairpins and threw the ship aloft across the surface, before clattering hard into a MAG-stripped, almost completely inverted rock-face that then took the ships into a spiral and back out into the mine-sector of Sector 3, hard hairpins and sickening turns making this more tricky. And she was watching that rear camera, and the voice in her ear. Bit by bit, step by step. She had to defend. ELS was her friend here, but Nora was clearly on a mission. She’d left Paul behind no doubt wanted to make up positions, as they went onto the next lap, the heart inside of Ava clasping shut and open on corners, even without the gravity the forces still enough from how lateral the craft went enough to still tug away at her very fibrous heartstrings.

Nora was riding the track fast and loose, grasping for any edge to claw her way up in position as she looked for an opportunity to pass Ava with her sleds superior speed. Ava was more experienced and had an ELS advantage over the rookie, but Nora knew she could exploit even the smallest opening if she could just find one. Or make one. With that in mind she kept pushing, inch by inch, second by second, looking for her opportunity to strike. The forces acting on the still-mostly-fleshy pilot were intense, but that only drove her to push harder, faster, stronger. The pounding of her blood rushing through her heart and brain in sync with the beat of her engines, its guttural roar echoing her own emotions as she focused on the pursuit.

And it felt tense, corner after corner, Ava could just about feel Nora crawling along her side, the calm pilot even in this situation feeling like she was truly dogfighting, every sinew in her trying, the cameras picking it up, as the audio in Ava’s ear interrupted what was an epic show of two pilots going toe to toe. The crystal clear comms and the marker in her ship was instant, but the ship didn’t slow, given she had to select the limiter, like old times, she was waiting for the prompt on the track-side markers.
“Virtual Safety is out, Bjorn’s had a big….” Ava heard, able to do two things at once, her mind racing, and then, it felt like something just didn’t.

The pressure boiled and it was as if even for her, in that duel, extended as it was, relentless as it was, in that moment, she couldn’t stay in that zone. She was slowing down, yet nowhere near enough given she was side by side with Nora at that point, and well…..

Ava wasn’t quite there. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t be able to explain it at all, but it was like for even a few frames, she lost something, and she never, ever felt that before. Like her heart had jumped, skipped, thrown a beat, her focus on this moment burning out like a sudden rush of heat to her eyeballs, sinewing inside to make her face out. And in that moment, in between her heart and her head firing back up, it was far too late. It wasn’t even like a blur of forces coming together, it was like a blink and then it happened.

The crash was sizable, Ava recoiling in horror and trying to turn the craft but it was hopeless in how it understeered and just kept going, and in Sector 3, on the tight, hairpin-like inverted bends, there was no chance, and repulsors being too weak to hold the ships at top-speed and the walls so close, the shunt and damage was enough to overwhelm even the crafts typically sturdy repulsor fields of their own too, careering both of them out of circuit and into the rocky, alien-like regolith, Ava feeling the ship heap over in the lunar gravity, and over, and then, her frames of reference entirely disappear.

She could just hear her heartbeat, the ship upside down and an endless amount of alarms.

She opened her eyes.

And checked, everything, anything over again, the cockpit smashed to pieces with most of the ship worse than just written off, but splintered into almost a dozen chunks, as she put her hands out and checked herself over, watching extremely cautiously for broken reinforced nanite-enhanced glass that had sprinkled into the Lunar dust, and the ship that was now in tatters.

She hurt like she hadn’t in a decade, her helmet secure and the visor secure, no splinters in her suit, thankfully, but she was barely able to crawl out after pulling her harnesses loose, barely getting up before looking across at the other ship, going past the field generator on the ship itself that in the event of this would mean she wouldn’t die- a thankful failsafe given it created a pocket of air within the canopy itself, but outside, that was unpressurised and the feeling of void was a stark contrast to the field-generated positive pressure-like bubble that Ava passed through, breathing in heavy through her suit’s oxygen system. Her stand was a crooked stand, given her legs internally had been shaken about and she hadn’t yet entirely realised her prosthetics had dislodged from her hip, but still, the adrenaline override it. And her fighter-pilot grade mindset even to this, rattled, knowing full well it wasn’t her she was worried about, but the wreck she saw beyond her own ship. Why the hell were there no drones or marshalls out here? Well, there was Bjorn’s crash. And the radio was horrifically staticky, as Ava realised the blur that was this horror was a reality. This was a worst case scenario. A crash in a deadzone, and even if the stewards realised it after they dealt with Bjorn, they’d realise that altogether, that crash, whilst a nasty one, was nothing on this.

And worse still, she looked to the other ship, and realised it was even worse. That Southern Cross ship was a glass cannon, but here, it had fared even more terribly, recoiling off rock and the cockpit sideways, as Ava realised she would be first to arrive. And with a hobble, her legs physically feeling crooked in their joints to her hips, she made the bulky suit move, every part of her knowing that however bad it had been for her, she was going to have to help Nora. They weren’t on the same comms line, but Ava knew she had to do something, go beyond that tiny bubble of protection and cross the rocky surface towards her.

It happened in a matter of moments, at the speeds they were going even their own enhanced reflexes were barely enough to keep up. Her hands had begun to move on the control surfaces before her brain had processed that… something had gone wrong with Ava for just a moment, but she was only fast enough to avoid smashing into the other pilots cockpit and went careening into one of the rock faces that made up that section of the track. The impact sprayed the shattered Southern Cross ship over a worrying length of track as the cockpit, in one piece by some mercy, slammed into the lunar regolith and skidded to a halt nearby, off kilter and with a shattered canopy, but generally in one crumpled piece. The next thing Nora knew was pain, immediate and intense as she felt her body get ripped to pieces in an agonizing, infinite moment before the emergency cut off ejected her from the ships dying computer systems and she woke back to the real world, and very real pain. She was alive, that was a start, but as she tried to free herself from the tattered remains of her harness she discovered that one of her arms had been shattered as the pain of trying to move it caused her to black out for a moment, even through the adrenaline coursing through her system. As she came back around, moving much more carefully, she discovered that her right arm, her dominant arm, had been smashed when the cockpit crash landed.

As the injured Australian finished coming to this series of revelations, she looked across the lunar surface to see Ava standing and moving jerkily towards her, leaving her own tiny bubble of air and safety and moving in Noras direction. Nora was trying to free herself, but with only her off hand she was making a poor show of it as she scrabbled at the clasps, having a hard time with the lack of feeling in her bulkier, space-capable race suit. Further complicating these attempts were the spikes of intense pain any time she moved her right arm, leading to her almost losing consciousness again as she managed to pull herself fully out of the remains of her cockpit and fall the remaining few feet to the lunar dust, falling to a sitting position as her right leg gave out under even the slightest pressure. It was at that moment that Nora realized that her right leg was nothing but pain, piercing, vibrant pain, similar in damage to her arm.

”Where the hell are the marshalls and drones?” She said into her helmet, thinking out loud to ward off the silence of the void outside her little bubble of air. She’d seen the notification of Bjorns accident moments before her own, but she couldn’t remember where on the track that was. Probably pretty far back, but that meant… They were alone until one of their crews got a rescue launched, or the marshalls returned after dealing with the other crash. Nora let out the breath she had been unconsciously holding in one long, heartfelt expression.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.”

Ava breathed half a sigh of relief watching Nora peel away, the sight of her arm and her leg injury making her wince inside, and would be enough to make most pilots that weren’t militarily trained want to freak the fuck out. But Ava was at least, somewhat, holding it together as she continued to clatter, the bruising inside and the damage to the panelled surface a frustrating one, but not stopping her at all as she just kept going, and going. And with a silence, Ava looked down, crumpling down uncomfortably on her knees, seeing her mouth the words that the Chilean could make out, nodding back from within her own visor, looking over her injuries, staying close and checking her spacesuit over for damage, pressure compromises or any further aspects to worry about, including the state of the ship and it's safety. With a tweak of the flickering holographic PDA on her SERE-kit styled chest-mounted rig, Ava switched into the immediate, Bluetooth-like frequency for short-range communications, hearing the static from Nora’s damaged headset. And in spite of everything, Ava knew she had to act quickly, but make sure Nora, who was no doubt losing her mind given it was her first time on Luna no less.

“Nora, don’t move at all, deep breaths, deep, deep breaths…..look at me, we’re gonna be ok, yeah? Just steady, no need to move on that leg. Let's not risk any more injuries, especially to your back.” Ava added, really taking in the look of her right leg and her right arm, wincing and noticing structural damage to the suit itself, almost without hesitation reaching into the ship and fumbling a little, clattering over to the floor as she pulled up a foam kit, located next to the extinguishing unit for the cockpit.

“Okay. This is going to hurt a lot, Nora, you need to look at me, I’m going to cover the damage on the suit and your crush with this expansion foam to stop the bleeding, and make sure your suit holds up, ok? They’ll get someone to us soon, but you need to breathe, and I need you to stay awake. Whatever you do, do not pass out. Your spinal column has taken a hit as well, so if we do anything it'll hurt a lot. Just stay with me, deep breaths, and we'll make it through. They’ll move you when we can safely, they're sending a team to us. Please, please, take it easy now. We’re okay. We’ll be okay, Nora….please hang on…..” Ava tried, tried to be reassuring, even though she was just about past hyperventilating, her suit’s O2 rebreather not enjoying any of what had just happened at all. Resting down by Nora, the navy and yellow coloured suit of the Aussie contrasting against Ava’s own black and white, and with that, duty just hit to make sure Nora would be at least stable.

Spraying the foam canister at her leg and her arm, the spray would have been ice-cold, but was stabilising foam, not made for something like this and more made to solidify a metal joint if needed, but in this instance, would at least lock her leg and any bleeding within, whilst also having the side effect of sealing up what looked like a very damaged element of Nora’s spacesuit, given it had been squished in impact. If that went, there was no guarantee if the repulsor failed that it would probably kill her very, very fast. Ava could tell that Nora was going to lose her arm and leg so knew the foam was the only choice to stop her from bleeding out, and no doubt require a significant amount of surgery to look over her, as well as her spine, where her hardware had been installed- because of the innate link it had to her ship. It was a grim scene, the kind that warfare had given her scenes of, yet to happen to Nora, this felt…..shit, it felt wrong.

Nora had been incredibly lucky to not break vertebrae, perhaps because of it preventing further damage in the immediate telemetry Ava had in her visor’s HUD that ran in emergency mode. It helped triage her yet even without instruction, or the ringing in her ears and the absolute panic that was the team, other ships stopped dead, Ava knew she had to only act and hope. In low-G, fractures were even more dangerous, things like this could easily cripple someone if not healed and dealt with properly, even despite advanced medicine. It was working for now to hold her straight but even so, Ava knew for this brief moment in time, the race didn’t matter, but making sure Nora didn’t hurt herself worse, and stayed conscious and in a state of mind that wouldn’t potentially lead to long-term nervous or neural damage, let alone the physical hit, that mattered. Passing out meant the wiring wasn’t there for her neural link to be reviewed properly, she needed to be here to avoid any risk and Ava knew that she had to talk. It felt like the Moon, everything else that Ava had taken in faded away for a second, and only in that very moment, Nora mattered.

Nora looked up at Ava, her eyes struggling to focus for a moment before snapping back as the other pilots voice came through her helmets speakers. “Well you’re a sight for sore… everything. Just give me a sanger n’ a smoko and she’ll be right.” Nora replied, perhaps a bit more rattled than she had originally realized. She was lucky that the emergency release had worked properly, the shear zones failing with the help of a small charge before everything else and shearing clean, causing possible spinal damage instead of the very real possibility of parts of her spine being shattered or removed entirely by a crash. Noras voice was slurred, but she seemed to be holding onto consciousness for the time being, her iron will helping keep unconsciousness and the worst parts of shock away as she focused on Ava, using the womans words and actions, and the pain that came with her help, as an anchor to stay in the waking world while they waited for rescue.

And the brunette Chilean, inside her visored helm, responded with a certain courage of her own, knowing this was not exactly how anyone wanted this race to go down. The shadow of an ambulance and recovery ship beckoned, and within barely 45 seconds, a drone had followed, very quickly assessing the ship itself and its integrity, as well as that of the two pilots, Ava sitting by Nora’s side and looking up to the medical staff that now flooded the area, and almost overwhelmed. One of the techs took Ava aside, with a stretcher brought out and diagnostics very quickly set into Nora’s suit, a couple of bipedal android-like bots assessing the damage to Nora’s spine before sliding the protector onto her back, helping reinforce it inside the suit, where her support had already broken out and off. A medic oversaw the process, staying close by Nora’s side throughout, the silence on the grid more deafening even more than that of the vacuum of space.

The one by Ava’s side eyed her up, and told her not to move, the Japanese FIAR member of staff ordering Ava to stay down, looking through her legs.
“Okay, Ava, careful now. Your prosthetic joints broke, the rest of the leg held together so you could move but it will hurt a lot later. You are very bruised. No neural damage, and your suit is okay, but scratched.” She seemed just as shocked as Ava was, as the Chilean anchored herself down in the low gravity, as best as she could, given small movements would move her away. The risk of the spinal injury, as well as the other injuries on the Moon were much harder to treat if they had complications- and Ava tried to stay calm, even her own ice-like piloting skills knowing that Nora was a civilian. She was no soldier, or pilot. She was not here to die, or get hurt. Yet she was possibly in a worse state.
“Is she going to be okay?” Ava asked, the medic preparing a second brace with another bot that came along, nodding for Ava to lean back.

“We aren’t sure. But she seems stable, and she is talking. And that is good. Thank you for making sure she did not move. Lean back, Villarosa, we’ll get you out too. That was a big one, let’s take it steady.” The medic’s words were not reassuring, as Ava only followed process, the support being mounted and Ava being awkwardly floated through low gravity on the specialist brace, being carried across to the medical rover that had Nora inside.

They’d already started stripping the spacesuit from Nora, inside the sealed chamber, with Ava instead on the outside as a non-priority casualty for the moment being looked over by the Japanese medic who was running a separate triage, given the rest of her was reading green- no concussions, spinal injuries, or anything to her neural link were found outside of damage to her leg stump and hip, which considering the crash, was a miracle. The race was over, any ships on circuit were halted, and no doubt hearing it in their radios about the incident. The pitwall was aghast, any footage had stopped and diverted to inside the pits and reaction was not on dramaticized this, but only on keeping Nora’s, and by extension, Ava’s dignity. This was not a time for media to make a storm. Maybe later, but now, this was about respect, and everyone on the circuit felt a certain kind of silence.

And in that silence, Ava felt horrific inside. It was slow, but as the adrenaline faded, and the pain amped up across all of her, raising and raising, nothing inside her head could keep it back. That happened because of her. She nearly killed Nora. Defending. Holding her line. And then losing focus. In a dogfight, she let go for barely a frame, and now, it was on her mind. Ava had plenty of confidence, she’d known what it was like to fire missiles, but this wasn’t that. This was someone who hadn’t done any evil, or even was trying to kill her. She was a fellow pilot, a racer, and now, she was below her in the buggy, being worked on and involuntarily having limbs she was born with about to be taken, best case, and the worst case horrified Ava worse. It did not want thinking about.

Clambered on, the medics inside, a mix of bots and a Norwegian doctor sealed the door behind. His badge on his chest and his specialist medical spacesuit in white and red denoted him as the Chief Medic of the FIAR delegation, and he got to looking after Nora as the internal pressure of the buggy resumed.

“Nora, I am Doctor Niels Jorgensen, me and these two bots will look after you, and we will get you back to the Paddock for medical attention and surgery. How are you feeling?” His reassuring voice was probably a bit more reasoned than Ava’s, who had performed some emergency triage, whereas he would be looking after her for now.

“Like I got worked over by a flock of Emu. All things considered, could be worse.” Noras voice cracked, the facade of humor she had used to keep her cracking for a moment as she was efficiently prepped for treatment. “When we meet on the other side of this, doc… I owe you and Ava a drink.”

Niels nodded, the good doctor setting up some gentle painkillers in a syrup-like capsule, routing it into her left wrist with an impulse-like clamp, the bots already cutting away any bits of the spacesuit for surgery that would come after this that would help get access to Nora’s systems- the main one being applying tourniquets to her limbs that had already been lost, and cutting the bleeding and internal bleeding inside her body with a smattering of nanite-infused dressings and gels- that would include the internal stuff where the nanites would hunt and help clot her internals, as well as manage any synthetic attachments she had inside her, such as at her spine, which thanks to the brace made sure she didn’t damage any vertabrae or her neck, where the neural link had thankfully, been undamaged, even if the person inside could have been. An emergency blood kit to transfuse her some more nanite-enhanced blood that would fill the gap and stop her from passing out, and oxygen was on her, not from the damaged spacesuit but from inside the buggy. That was supported by a range of gels, helping address the bruises, and other impacts across her body. The bots were busy on triage, and even on the Moon, it was clear FIAR’s medical response was not slouching in a moment like this, given internal bleeding or haemorrhage could easily kill, and the actions taken within what had actually, as it turned out to be, barely two minutes, had saved Nora’s life from what would be the next killer in this situation if blunt trauma didn't do it- the internal bleeding that a normal human body, even with implants, couldn't hold together. She was talking and cracking a joke, and that even cracked him in this moment, his visor open as the early 40-something Doctor smiled back.

“Your spirit is not broken at least, Nora. Ava could have gone easier with the foam. But she did well to help you. You were very close to your suit being ruptured. You are extremely lucky to be alive. I’ve given you some painkillers, and we’ll need to work quickly. Please keep as still as you can, and we’ll sort this out. We may need to put you under once we’re inside to keep your link safe.” Niels got one of the bots to brush some of said foam away where it had been in excess, Nora’s clamped down state inside the buggy not mirroring Niels’s gentle sway due to the lunar-like pull, but keeping his focus. This was not a quiet day at the races. This was probably one of the most difficult things to do for a Medic of his type, and no doubt, he was glad she was in high spirits because he’d need anything he could get to help her now. Losing a limb was never easy, even if it was seen by some as a voluntary procedure. But involuntary, as well as the other injuries Nora had suffered, as well as the break from flow and the neural pullout, would be quite something to follow. As the buggy crawled across the surface, it felt like for the rest of the grid, a limb had been pulled for them too.




The scene cut from the injury, to the look on Rory Andrews's face, on the Delta Hyper couch, a long time after this had happened, a sigh emanating as he thought back on what he had seen. This was reflective, rather than reactive.

"When something like that happens on a track happens....we all stop. We all realise that the sport is dangerous, but I think we forget who is piloting these ships. No matter how many prosthetics, or implants a pilot can have, they're still a person. And they have loved ones, friends, colleagues, and fans that care for them. And I think for that moment, I think we all thought the worst."

Amy chimed in, sitting there in her Silver Apex polo and jeans, the voice at the top of the sport one that maybe would catch more sight.

"I know we're all competitive, but that was.....yeah, that was difficult to watch." She added, keeping it short and plain.

Owen, TP at Southern Cross seemed to have the same view.

"It's not easy to deal with something like this. Nora has been.....not a stranger to risk, we'll put it lightly, but I think even she couldn't imagine this. I think none of us can. I've been doing this for fifteen years and nobody's seen a crash like this. Not since the early days."

The camera turned to Doctor Jorgensen.

"When she sat there, I really did expect the worst. Her spine was quite damaged, and given the connection to her Neural Link, could have been extremely dangerous for her, let alone her arm and leg which were damaged beyond repair. The material of the suit was damaged, even with the graphene weave, and we are only glad for Ava's first response."

Then it turned to Ava, new legs attached, gone were her old military ones and now on were her new sleek pale-grey coloured formed ones.

"It was just what you do. You see something like this, you have to try and help. And....I'm glad she's better. It was scary, and I know my parents called immediately after. And they never do normally!" Ava nodded back, feeling better after all of it, and in reflection over all of this.

Into the frame, entered each of the new pilots, each at a different angle, or cut. The question was the same from Aurora, who had come on beforehand. Three weeks after, a week after Monaco, the question was still pointed back at one, stuck in mind, event. Nora included.

@Enzayne@LadyAmber@MrSkimobile@Starlance@Sylvan

"What was your reaction to the crash?"




Jamie Hart


“Jamie, we’re at Red Flag, bring the ship in. Race is not to be continued, repeat, not to be continued. We're done here today, that is P3."

“P3 locked in? Hell yeah!” Jamie replied, as Callum replied, sombre in tone.

“Jamie, calm down. It’s a serious incident. Pipe down for a second."

"That bad?"

"Jamie, we'll talk later. This one is bad, mate."

“Oh.”



Race Results




The Aftermath


The mood was sombre inside of the paddock, and there were, understandably, no post-race interviews. Media had been told there was an incident, and given three-quarters of the race had been completed, full points were awarded.

After the race had been red-flagged, a podium had been undertaken informally but nobody, nobody felt like they were in a celebratory mood. The media had been told to cover nothing, and footage was playing of the wreck, going from a typical sports broadcast to almost like a news-styled one, the commentators silent for long stretches before having something to say, updates mostly on what had happened.

It was more than a shock to most that Jamie had come third, and Kofi had actually scored a point in one of the worst ships on the grid, but it felt like an echo in exchange for the roaring noise in zero-atmospheric Lunar pull that felt like what had happened in that crash. Those results felt like a hollow one, because whilst some thoughts had gone towards completing the race, none of the pilots were willing. In the paddock, they could talk a lot, and the consensus was that given the damage to the repulsor array, the condition of the pilots, and everything else that had conspired, nobody was happy to go out. FIAR agreed, realising it would be extremely bad optics wise to do anything in that situation. It was almost like they'd learned from incidents in the past decades, realising as important as racing was, continuing when a pilot's life was in danger was not a great idea.

The commentary team looked on from their virtual studio, after it had all been said and done, and faced the audience with a certain kind of disbelief, but at least, some reassurance. They needed that. Anyone at home was no doubt, hairs on back of shoulder, hoping, praying that Nora was okay, after the wreck showed two ships that in the cold, dark confine of space, had been splintered to bits.

"Well, we're hearing that Nora Kelly and Ava Villarosa are in a stable condition, which I imagine our viewers at home are of great relief to hear." Rory solemnly commented, Rosie nodding in acknowledgement.

"That is amazing news. We saw the wreckage earlier after the recovery rover brought it back to the paddock, and it's safe to say, we're all in amazement." Rosie's reply was affirming, and even her usually overexcited angle was certainly maturing fast in this climate.

"Yes, it's times like this that the sport stands still. We are incredibly grateful to the crews of Formula AG, especially the medical teams today, who no doubt played a vital role in their response to this incident. Delayed as it may have been due to Bjorn Waldgard's big off in Sector 1, it was reassuring to see them moved and into the rover so quickly."

"What about the investigation to follow? Do you think pilots will be scared?"

"I think everyone definitely wants answers, but it'll be too soon to say what the cause was. The sector of the crash has been known for being high speed and tight, but I think nobody expected a collision that fast. Perhaps the new ELS systems, or repulsors, or even pilot error led. We've not seen a crash like this since Dorian Hornfleur's in 2087, and many were still in shock he walked away from that one."

"And what about the rest of the race? It feels a moot point to discuss the results, but based on what we saw, are there any conclusions we can draw?"

"At the moment Rosie....I'm struggling for words. I think this'll leave a ripple in Formula AG for years to come. I think many of us were expecting the worst, so the result today seems to play little into what happened. But, I mean I'll try. Harrison managed to pick through Al-Saqr, who were looking like the team to beat, and he proved his talent, definitely showing he's able to pilot an incredibly drifty ship well from MAG-strip to MAG-strip. Even Jamie Hart was incredible, but I think he must have found the same setup that Amy did, and just managed to put up similar delta times. Still, nobody's in doubt that when Harrison passed Amy, it just shows that whatever Harrison is certainly chasing his title that he felt like last year, he couldn't get. Al-Saqr? I guess, we saw them perhaps go too conservative at the beginning of the race, but then double down towards the end in their energy strategy. I think Layla must have been thinking she would have the measure of Jamie and Amy at the end, a smart move but one that got compromised before it even began." Rory began, continuing onto the others with a pause for breath.

"Yes, it was a surprise to see- we thought a lot more would happen there, but, clearly Layla got it wrong. How about the others chasing podiums?" Rosie asked, almost as if she was cross-examining.

"Then as for the rest, the crash excluded, Bea Ward is putting up some lightening fast finishes this year. Perhaps it was luck because it looked like she was fighting with Wedge and Han all the way and it could have changed very quickly from section to section, given how much they were fighting over 6th and 7th, but she must be pleased with that result- and for Carrera, in spite of that horror crash, I think Bea has a lot to show for a ship that we all initially didn't think had the pace." Rory started, looking back towards the footage of the race playing back, giving analysis.

"As for Valkyrie, a disappointing weekend- they went backwards and regolith issues have plagued them, their attempts to fix it look like they didn't work. I think they can take some solace that the ship is doing what it needs to on the corners, but at Luna, with the team in legal hot water at home, I can't imagine the pilots are thinking straight. Kofi's first point of the season couldn't even be celebrated, which I think is sad because you can see how much it means to him, even with the circumstances going on. Then as for Zygon, they performed about what we would expect. They probably wanted more, but also, they're setting a reasonable benchmark for the next races and are waiting to pounce."

"What about the other players further back?"

"Well, Bjorn Waldgard's crash has certainly raised questions that he hasn't got what it takes at this level- the new ships don't look like they fit him, and it was just awful timing that it happened right as Kelly and Villarosa came together. Really bad luck, and I imagine FIAR are looking at that now. Fitzroy's done a good job, in fact, Henry might had the best race I've ever seen him have in that ship, but from 20th on the grid, it doesn't matter really. I think that ship is too floaty this season and if the rumours of purchase are true, I imagine we'll be seeing Fitzroy change hands and who knows what then."

"Thank you Rory, yes, I think we're in for an uncertain season to come, but I think we're all glad that Nora Kelly, as well as Ava Villarosa are recovering after that awful crash in Sector 3 of Mare Austral. We'll keep you updated as we know more."




Harrison Makara


Harrison walked through into the medical room, after getting through the screening and disinfectant, where he saw Cassie and Doctor Jorgensen by Nora’s side.

Nora’s right arm and leg were severed and wrapped up, and the punkish, normally confident pilot was sat there unconscious, tied down to the bed with a high-tech interface lining her head, keeping her neural interface contained given it was now working with a very different physiology- as well as repairing the damage to her spine, which had been stabilised for now. She was in almost a maintenance mode, the use of anaesthetic replaced by literally shutting out Nora’s mind, which came with advantages over the more traditional mode of knocking her out. It gave a lot more diagnostics to what the issues were, but, it was more safe to keep her this way than anything else. She’d be in that coma until she got back to Earth- and it was safer given the Lunar gravity to put her under.

Harrison stood by her side, looking down, visibly weeping as Cassie wrapped am arm around him, two friends, the only person Harrison in this moment could show himself like this to outside of Owen who had joined them, there to take it in.

“Harrison, I’m so, so sorry….” Cassie looked up, herself clearing the tears that had come down her own face. It had been clear this had melted her, even though she’d not been close to Nora, there was this feint feeling that through

"It's fine. She....she knew it's a risk we all take. Doesn't.....fuck.....doesn't make it easier." Harrison embraced her, knowing she was quite emotional over it too. Cassie had gone through her own fair share of bad crashes, more in the Junior category and one last year, and due to circumstance, was one of the first to come by. They looked on for a bit, before Cassie left Harrison to his own after they barely spoke, Cassie having nothing more but to leave Harrison to it to take that time with her.

Looking over at Nora, Harrison was left alone with her and the Doctor, having little to say, given he felt vulnerable. Winning felt pretty hollow after this.

"Nora, I don't think you can hear me but.....if you can, I'm....bloody hell, I'm sorry to see you this way. And I hope you can still keep going after this. You're bloody ripper out there, and with all these Kiwis, you remind them we're still fast, eh? That bloody hurt a lot to watch, and I can't imagine how it feels. But we're here for you. I promise that. We'll sort you with a new leg, a new arm....then some too. I always thought with you it would be a shark, you know, but....yeah. It'll be right. And you'll be back soon. But don't blame yourself. You did what you could. And we'll find out why in time." Harrison's words were all over the place, as he put his hands in his face, before taking a look.

"There's a lot of people who are coming by to leave their regards. But wherever you are, take your time. You'll be back home, they'll look at ya', and they'll mend you. I'm just glad you're alive. But we'll be back. I promise." Harrison added, peeling the Pounamu stone from the table across from her torn-up suit and belongings and placing it gently on her bedside table.

"Rest easy, Nora, I'll see you at home, yeah?" Harrison added, cracking a smile, at least, trying to as he walked away on that note, only giving a nod to the Doctor as he walked out of the room, his sigh heavy.

In time, the other pilots would come by. Words would not really give solace to the unconscious Nora, who was no doubt, by now, in a world of her own tangle till she came home. There’d be a chance for prosthetics fittings, and plenty of discussion about what came after such a big incident. The next race? Most wondered if she’d still be fine to race for Southern Cross at all, but for now, it was worth popping by, because soon enough, everyone would be back to Earth, quite literally.




Ava Villarosa


Ava, who unlike Bea after her South African crash, was not drinking a can of pale ale. Instead, she sat conscious, given she’d had surgery on her legs, but was down to some 3D-printed prosthetics and leashed into the diagnostic machine for the moment. She'd had surgery on her stubs performed to fix the bone that had been bruised and hairline fractured, the prosthetics damage nearly twisting out her hip altogether, and as Doctor Fujiwara came around, at least her own injury wasn't amounting to getting her limbs cut off. That much Ava was happy with, given she had no legs to lose. In some ways, her own injuries were simpler to sort out- the kind that meant while she was still being monitored for any further developments, especially given her neural network had received quite the shock, she was just here for the time being till she was able to go home.

“Ava, sorry to bother you. But we had a visitor that really wanted to see you. She insists she needed to." The good Doctor was not even halfway through, when Bea quite literally had emerged, and quite literally soared through the room and right across to her bed. It was a solid few meters but that meant a foot if it came to Bea's energy that Ava was too used to, especially with lunar gravity tripling any jump.

Looking across at the end of the bed, Ava smiled, shaking her head. Of course she'd come to see her.

“Hey! I suppose you picked up what I couldn’t finish. Not bad for a points paying result." Ava replied, cracking a smile, shaking her head, leaning forwards, sitting up. There was half a thought that she'd probably hurt herself worse getting out of the ship and helping out Nora- an act of heroism, but until all the facts were gathered, it probably wouldn't be understood how close Nora had come to harm quite yet.

"Not often I get teary eyed but....but I'm really glad to be alive. Because that's the second time I've bottled a good qualifying, I can't let you take all the points if I'm dead." Ava quipped, the brunette giving a raspy chuckle as if she knew she was, despite literally nearly dying there, still willing to laugh about it, and keep going. It was clear there was some fear in her, the kind that came from leaving a life of flying fast jets to now this where she was nearly seeing someone innocent nearly die, that was different.

Putting her arms out, Ava seemed a lot more emotional than usual. A lot more, hugging Bea, glad to have a team-mate she trusted like her, and glad to be able to come back fighting.

"I'll be back in Monaco. I only apologise I wrote another ship off. But, silver linings....I heard they're going to make an exciting announcement internally? So expect me to be still in front of you." Ava added, knowing as much as things were normally her lead in the team, and Bea was following, for this moment being, she was happy to follow the British-American's lead.




Cassie Neves


Cassie meanwhile, in the Zygon section came through into Han's quarters, rather uninvited, but wanting to come by, after that encounter with Harrison. She hadn't had a heart to heart with Han for a while, but felt she may as well, given all that had gone down.

Setting herself by the table where she was, Cassie sighed, looking over.
"How are you feeling after that? I mean, that was really what the risk of this sport involves. Sure, we got points, but I can't lie, I'm feeling shit after that. I saw Nora. It was.....well, I had bad ones but nothing like that. Shit." Cassie asked, the tears wiped away, but the marks remaining. After everything Han had done, backing her, the spa day, the invite to the bet, well, she felt like she owed something back. Rather than a beef with Valkyrie, this opened her eyes to look forwards, and live for now rather than back into something she couldn't change.

"I thought to check you were doing okay. You've been doing really, really well of late and I've not really said thanks. Sorry I know you put your priority into me, and I couldn't deliver. And I know how much you're doing. But, I think we did what we could considering everything. There's Monaco to come. And I know you haven't been but....we can look at that at least. Though bloody hell, I'm struggling on this one." Cassie added, sitting down, knowing Han wasn't always the open-up type, but even after something like this, she knew that even Han's often political style would realise what was going on. After all, while she may have been more political, now she maybe understood the risk involved in the sport, and understood why Cassie was so emotive about it.

"I'll go talk to Kais when we're home. But, you need to put me back together if anything happens. I do not want to end up like Nora. Deal?" A bit of dark humour right there and then would have felt like a right hook to the Korean, but she would realise that with it, Cassie really did trust Han in that moment to pull such a brutal joke that from Cassie's own tears, came from a place of coping.




Layla Al-Nadir


Layla sat inside the Al-Saqr quarters, and herself, sobbed. For someone so obsessed with changing herself into something else, she seemed so human in that moment. As she heard the door open, she saw Kais appear, the tablet put down from what she was looking at in terms of telemetry, that she had long since given up on trying to even understand.

“Kais. Hey.” She uttered, sighing as she floated over, and immediately wrapped her arms up against Kais, bringing whatever little energy she had to break away from having her head in her hands, yet the logical part of her playing out.

“I promise you, whatever it was, that wasn’t me. That wasn’t even a thought in my head. I….please, please tell me you believe me. I beg you. Kais, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want this.” Layla uttered, struggling to exhale in fear.

"This might be a home race....but I would never. Never." Layla added, sighing as she rested her hand against her face, looking over.

"Is this what it comes to? This....thing? I have to ask myself that question?" Layla mused more as an open question, her nose running as she brushed her tears, looking back.

"Sorry, Kais. I'm so sorry. We were meant to do better, then that.....I don't understand it. The strategy was to deploy at the end, not the start. So I suppose I'm to blame for that too. I cost you with that." Layla added, her upset figure clearly not from underperforming but from that fear that lay inside of her control. There was no doubt going to be an investigation into this, and part of Layla was terrified they'd also find out what was going on.

But she was positive, almost certain this time, it couldn't have been her. She was ahead, after all, and Ava or Nora weren't catching. So who else would stand to benefit? She had no idea, and did not want to think. Jamie did not come across as wired to the gills. Amy? She was competitive, but that was a new low if she had done that, but even Layla couldn't stomach the thought of it, that made no sense and if revenge was what she wanted, she'd have done it to Layla directly. Or sabotage from anyone else? Who knew. She didn't want to be there. So, in that knowledge, Layla felt plenty bleak.




Dorian Pascal Hornfleur


Dorian exhaled, looking over the race results inside the team's hub, then looking back up to Alexander, who no doubt, was sitting there with puzzlement on his face. Uncertainty, a certain kind of quiet after all that had happened, as he levelled his gaze, direct and straight back at the Team Principal, after their chat on the race and the debrief. Everyone had left, but he was still here, waiting behind.

Dorian seemed to be more direct, more personal in this moment, opened up perhaps a bit more than his professional self usually would be.

“Alex....look, I know it wasn’t a good one. And what happened with Nora has my stomach in knots. Paul, whatever, he needs to stay strong. Do you want me to talk to him? Trust me, I know what it was like, I had a big hit a few years ago....but nothing like that. And I know he can't be taking this well. Not after....we know.” He asked, shuffling across the tablet on the table after the debrief.

“The positives are, the telemetry for Monaco is good from my seat. Even if I went backwards, the setup compromise here, and then all the noise from what's going on isn't helping. But Monaco, from being here a while, that race matters a lot to this team. Felix may be gone, but he left us a ship that could win there, and I've won there twice. We both know this, so I'm saying we do what we can. Irrespective, and I mean this....me or him winning at Monaco might give us a bit more strength. For a classic pilot, it's the ultimate achievement. I know Florence wouldn't quit until she got a win there so she could chase the Triple Crown. I know you understand." Dorian replied, staying relatively logical, sighing, at this point, direct through to him, the Frenchman's reflection on this playing out bit by bit.

"I will follow what you say. But that crash, that is....part of why I'm quitting at the end of this season. I used to love risk, I still do, but....that incident goes slightly differently, both of them die, no?" Dorian's French accented point was still clear, as he sighed out.

"This is just the reality of it. You know this. FIAR will reinforce barriers there, and that will be that. But these are 600kph ships, not toys. Not much you can do about it without turning us into androids. Neither of us can do anything about it." Dorian added, knowing Alexander was not going to react well, as he looked over his shoulder, standing up, taking leave, giving Alexander a closing shot, firm in the way he spoke, using this particular moment knowing it would hit home.

"For what it's worth, Alex, back in 2076, I was younger and more stupid. We all were, with Audrick's crash being a wake up call. But every child on earth would pilot one of those ships right now despite that crash, as much as they would love to be astronauts or scientists. So whoever you find to replace me when the season is done, make sure they understand there is more than this dream than the good times. I love what we do, but it does not come without risk. If Paul's mother calls, she needs to understand you can't protect her son on every single corner to win, because I know you'll need to deal with that situation soon." Dorian on that note, left, and no doubt, left Alexander with plenty of questions to ask. And plenty of uncomfortable memories.




The scene was a difficult one. With no interviews, the situation had changed for most, as they packed up, and got ready to leave for home after debriefs and quarantine had been completed. Nora wouldn't be awake till she got home, back to Christchurch, and more likely than not, faced her own dilemmas when she did awake from this mess. Prosthetics and recovery were options to be presented, some of which she would chase, some she would not. As for the others, they had their own dilemmas to come back from.

Each shuttle was loaded, and one by one, the teams were getting ready to leave. They had their inventory to pack up, and then spaceports to return to, as well as their next race to prepare for.

For Southern Cross, their dilemma was no doubt, a tough one to stomach. A pilot with life-changing injuries coming back was perhaps more plausible than say, 70 years prior where that would have been certain death- but even so, a lot needed to be done to return Nora to her seat.

For Valkyrie, the rot needed to stop somewhere, and more decisions than answers were coming up, and Monaco was a must-score.

Zygon had more to do in consistency, but, had at least leapt past Valkyrie.

For Carrera, the cost of that crash, no doubt would put a pin in development for things to come, even with reorganisations happening within the team.

And for Al-Saqr, no doubt there was a feeling that more could have been done. The perfect strategy, the best setup and the right tailoring had been offset by extremely poor luck, and a Harrison Makara that was now staring down Amy Stirling in the championship.

Soundtrack: Moby- Everlong

Aurora wrapped up things as best as she could, as the studio team finished up, the more cinematic portrait of the race playing out, a little more nuanced given the incident on track.

"Thank you for tuning in, for what I am sure will be talked about in years to come as one of the more scary crashes we have had to cover. I think I speak for everyone when I say we're sending lots of love Nora Kelly and Ava Villarosa, who are still in treatment for the injuries sustained at the Lunar GP."

"We had a thrilling race, but if you were watching at home at the onboards, we apologise for the footage you watched, and hope you understand why the last 30 seconds onboard prior to the incident were censored. Whoever you are, wherever you are, please remember that our pilots are human, and whatever rivalry on the track we have stops when one of our pilots finds their life on the line. Whether you support Silver Apex, Al-Saqr, Carrera Condor or Southern Cross, I think I speak for everyone when we say we're with them all the way and wish them the best." Aurora began, the words from even an experienced sportscaster coming hard.

"As far as we understand, the FIAR has issued an update that we will be in Monaco in two weeks time, and we will see you there. I no doubt the news will be busy, and we'll be there every step of the way. Thank you all, and have a safe evening." The tone felt a lot more somber than usual, as the final montage played.

With the ships off line, from Harrison's charge through the pack, Kofi actually taking 10th and cheering inside his cockpit, to the drifting of Layla and Kais through Sector 3, blasting dust on exit, to the dogfight between Bea, Han, Max and Cassie that had raged most of the race, and then finally, a distant shot of the crash between Nora and Ava.

And lastly, of Ava by Nora's side in their spacesuits on the floor, the camera fading back in what must have been a near award-winning shot of them on the surface of Luna as the recovery rover came in, and the Earth in the far background.


Enzo "Santi" Laste Valenzuela


Spoon to Stew


April 27th, 2025


Santi prudently listened to what there was to be said, keeping his lips tight till he had something to add. It sounded secure. They had a refuse collection, which for this part of the world, was genuinely incredible. The Order must have had their eye on solid waste management, if they were putting out and getting their refuse collected. For the third world, that was actually quite impressive. They clearly were a tidy bunch of sick fuckers if they had waste collection.

Walking in with the rifle at safety, Santi nodded in response to Meg's thoughts, and general approach. It made sense, quietly snatch the HVT, quickly, fast, and get out and get a quick win. This wasn't a full blown firefight. It was Guerillero hustle, plain and simple. And without numbers, that made sense.

@Rhona W

"That sounds like a good plan. Move fast, clean house, and grab the HVT. I can use the drone to provide overwatch, and steer you into the compound, and clean up any hostiles on the roofs and outskirts. I'll keep the drone afar so they don't pick up the noise, even with the blades I have installed on it, they'll know something is going on. Put me where you need me, but all I need to know is where we take him and how we minimise civilian contact." Santi started, walking alongside Meg, the bearded, half-Italian operative already letting the landscape bleed into him.

This was was asymmetry- no drone strikes, no support, or help on the way, just improvising and working with little to do a lot. And working with what they needed to get to help the Resistance meant a mindset that Santi was already accustomed toward. You didn't win those fights with air support. You won it with surgical precision, intelligence, and being willing to fight fire with fire. Not always ethically either. That Santi had learned when he went up against the Cartels- and the Western-equipped resources they had, often being staggering to those who didn't realise just how well equipped they were. Not taking 7.62 out here was Santi's choice because he assumed most weren't wearing kevlar, at least, not the ones that mattered. So dealing with threats without insight, that Santi had in spades, as he continued.

"Grabbing a vehicle, a Hilux perhaps, would be useful. If our man has been tortured, he won't be able to walk far, if he can walk at all. One of theirs may even come in handy. If it has the right tarps, covers, signage.....we can inflict a little more mess on them, if they do not know what is coming, and we may able to use that to our advantage to get around without being stopped, or at least, noticed as fast. There are rules of war we should play by, of course. But from the file I read, we are not....how do you say.....this is not a situation where our opponent is exactly playing fair, no? Any opportunities like this may come in handy. I will of course, follow what you think is best." Santi replied with his fast, husky Chilean accent still in tow, and with that, headed inside the warm, hospitable safehouse.

The stew filled the porcelain as Santi put his rifle into an improvised rack, optic covers on and magazines unloaded with his plate carrier next to the table, his FNX holstered as Sohee and others had done. He appreciated the food as he put spoon to stew, compared to MREs, this was earthen, hearty food that seemed to just seemed to fill, and dunking the warm, brown bread that tasted endlessly fluffy, given it was relatively freshly baked, it was nice to have some good nutrition before they were back on job. Back on road. And back committing some mess. He'd been in CAR for peacekeeping work, with a fireteam-worth of soldiers supporting the UN. He knew how this place worked, and while he did not have the stellar list of deployments like the others did, from the War on Terror, piracy, counter-terror and policing, he had his own quiet, contemplative thoughts from where he seemed to sometimes end up as the tip of the spear in Chile's own special forces output.

Santi let Moss and Sohee bring out their questions, the questions coming fast, and no doubt Meg thinking over some of them. While Santi was not someone who would step in and answer and mansplain for her, given she'd probably kick the shit out of him if she could from the rumours he had about her anger, he still felt like he could at least break the duck of the conversation and answer from his own experiences. Experiences that he realised, perhaps the Americans and Korean didn't have to quite the same degree. Fighting in it, and then living in it were different things, as he looked across to the Korean.

@Komo

"Killing the power seems like a good shot. Yet, a place like this though might run on a generator. If they have a power grid, it'll be easy to cripple, but it would be nothing you can hack. But, we'll see. And if they have servers.....I am sure we will find out if they have any filth. It's always the people who think themselves God who are the worst pieces of shit." Santi replied back, the Chilean's contrast to the South Korean's angle coming with a tinge of some experience of his own. Something he had half a feeling, she might have known too.

A White Tiger was a very capable operative- they had to be, after all, to deal with the threat of North Korea and wider security challenges in the area meant they did not back down, and the martial blood that ran in much of the ROK SOF was not to be understated. Sohee's baby-face fitting of her nickname hid an identity that no doubt knew how to go non-stop and follow discipline. Santi knew that Chilean warfare was not like the kind that she would have been used to- he was considering a drone and a KS-1 high-tech, while Sohee had access to plenty more fancy equipment. Still, if she had an LMG, and an idea of how to break things, they would be more than friendly.

Then across the room, the short American, Lukas Moss, had thoughts also. Santi picked up a strange feeling about him, from a former USAF Parajumper into a spook, working in the Middle East and Central Asia. A medic, comms specialist, and all around hunter-killer. Someone who knew how the dirt of operations worked like this. Santi was an appliance, he knew that much, an operator who understood chaos, asymmetry and working with low tech, but Lukas was a hybrid of a hybrid, it felt like. And he was right on comms, given some electronic warfare could be fun to mess around with.

@Thayr@Theyra

"I'll tell you my drone's frequency, Lukas, Juichi too, but don't go looking at its website history. If you want to start using an EM jammer or that Flipper, I would prefer you don't knock it out of the sky. I doubt I will find spare parts here easily, but, then again, I always am surprised in places like this what you can find when you go to markets. Piña, Piña Granada, Naranjas, AKMs, motherboards, same market stall." Santi remarked, keeping it light, but being happy to poke a bit of his fiery nature into the affair, knowing he could take just as much as he would give. He no doubt gave off the vibe of a bit more of a maverick, nowhere near as precise and clean as say, Sohee or Juchi, but even with his drone and what he did, knew he got what was required of him done and followed to task. Different operators had different methods. He had found what was comfortable with him, but no doubt it would be a point of friction.

With that in mind, Santi looked across to the others, more generally commenting on that aspect of the drone. Arsala and Karishma, the Afghani and Indian-origin were two sides of different coins, one blowing stuff up, the other getting the voice on the ground. Both hardened operatives, Arsala's story one that felt perhaps the most equivalent to Santi's own. He was lucky to grow up in a relatively safe, good upbringing, but he knew what that slip was like with a lack of security. The Vaquero from Kabul, Santi put in his mind. Karishma on the other hand was mean as hell, short but someone who'd spent nearly twenty years blowing stuff up, stopping stuff blowing up, and well, her loadout requisition read like someone wanting to go wreck some homes if she came to it. Plus a fucking Winchester. Jesus, was she more of a Vaquero than Arsala? Santi put the thought away, going back to what he was going to say before his train of thought broke.

"I will try to keep an eye out for you all, if you have PLBs, I will make sure my drone at least recognises your tag. I cannot give you a bird's eye view for your own eyes, but, tell me what you want to see and I will do my best to let you know. If not, 40 mike fixes the problem if you don't want it there? Anyway, please, call me Santi. I'm not truly Italian, spare calling me Enzo, yes?" Santi chuckled with a little sarcasm at the end, with an accent that to the Americans would definitely not sound like Mexican, having a fast, almost Portuguese-like inflection into the Latin accent that was only stopped by Santi's appreciation for speaking French and English in more common settings like this. Santi did not work exclusively around English-speakers, so his accent heightened on some words, not having perhaps the same HUMINT capability of say, Arsala.

Sipping down the bottom the liquidy stew, knowing as much as the others, there was a bit of ice to break, Santi looked to them.

"I read your files. All impressive. No Europeans though. Strange. Perhaps they thought it best to just keep them away in a place the Europeans have fucked up once before, no?" Santi pointedly observed, a wry smirk on his face, as he looked across to Meg more generally, and the lady serving them food.

"Compliments to the chef. This is very good. Once we have them running away, I will find some skewers and sort an Asado, muy bien, that would cure a great deal many things in this place." Santi quipped, as he finished the last bits of meat and veg in the stew, and with it, wiped his face with a spare tissue, cleansing his palette with a swig of his aluminium water bottle within his Camelbak, separate to the Camelbak system itself.

Putting the bottle back into the bag behind him, Santi was first to move and stand from being nicely sat on on the carpeted floor with his legs folded, and headed back over to his plate carrier and the weapons rack. He was silent as he did so, almost unspoken, as if this was just the thing that happened next. If it was what Meg intended, then he was moving on already.

Peeling the KS-1 off the rack and with it, pulling the stock out and checking the receiver, magwell, gas block and charging handle, twitching the rifle over and inspecting it over, his Ops-Core helmet following, the GPNVG-18 setup swifly being mounted on the helmet's specialist mount, as was a side-of-helm mounted ODIN Tactical IR flashlight with a cable press into his plate carrier for close-quarters work. Not that he would likely be breaching, it was more likely the others were kicking in doors today. He looked across to Arsala, coming back to his thoughts from earlier, continuing to prepare his magazines, and rifle in his ritualistic state.

@Smike

"A true Texas Ranger. I see it in films all of the time....but you are real. And the flag is similar, no? That would make us Vaqueros perhaps." Santi cracked a smirk, the Chilean Flag being exceptionally similar to that of the Lone Star State's flag, eying over the Cinco Peso, the coin-made badge what made a Ranger, a true Ranger- literally made from a Mexican Peso originally, though now it was silversmithed out of similar designs. Cowboys and Indians? Well, the blend that came about from the Texan that was also at the same time, of the Indian Subcontinent, it was like she ticked both. An observation that put her apart, as well as Zaland, the Belgian Malinois a fierce looking thing that was half humanitarian, barrier-breaking friend, half tear throats, and another half of detection to boot. Santi seemed to be careful around Zaland, knowing dogs were very, very sensitive to action, and Santi posed himself as no threat, letting the pup figure out Santi.

"I never did ask for his name....you definitely equipped him well. He looks like he has plenty of bite." Santi observed Zaland's armour, generally more open and just observing, before finishing up his own loadup, PMAG slid in, QAC suppressor screwed onto thread, and optic covers peeled back, with Santi ready to go and get after the work to come.
The Sofa on the Moon


@Starlance

"Well, no issue of that here, Bea! In your preparations for the race, how have you and Ava been feeling about the setup for Luna?




@MrSkimobile

"Indeed, we're a long way from home! And what would you say about your overall mood at Luna? Lot of rumours abound that there's some extremely exciting developments in Pilot Modifications that Al-Saqr has undertaken over the last five months- how has that felt for you and Layla?"




@LadyAmber

"For your first time on the Moon, you seem to be enjoying yourself Paul! It sounds like you've adapted well to the challenge, and I imagine you're seeking to keep your point lead on Zygon. Has the team got any targets for this season in spite of the changes, or is the sky the limit?"




Round 6 of Formula Anti-Gravity
Saturday 20th May, 2094
Qualifying Day
Lunar AGP
Mare Austral, nr the South Pole of the Moon
1600 Lunar Coordinated Time (LCT)


Jamie Hart


Soundtrack: Mount Kimbie- Made to Stray

Ship after ship hit the regolith, and time after time was posted, inch by inch, meter by meter, the contrasting shots of the Earth behind and the grey, monochrome surface contrasted by the colourful ships that darted across its surface- Fitzroy Orbital's bright red a standout on this surface, even though to the rumour mill, some said it was the last time Fitzroy was going to be an entity standing on its own two feet.

Almost drifting into the canyon, formed by forces outside of Earth's geological force, instead charred by mining and asteroid activity, racing on the Moon felt like the grip ceased and instead, quite literally an otherworldly force was in reaction, the ship drifting before latching to MAG stripping, reinforcing the same turn again. It was hard to dial into, but Jamie was finding his flow, the delta healthy, but not healthy enough for his liking, as he raced through the last sector, back out into the wide open basin at the base of the mine that the circuit paced through. The white-silver of the Silver Apex ship glimmered, but the pilot inside wasn't exactly on fire.

"P6, Jamie, we gave it a good run." The Canadian sighed in response to his engineer, looking out the window.

The fucking Earth seemed closer to reach than Amy did when she was pushing. And in spite of everything, literally everything in the sim, when it came to the craft, he couldn't pull it together. He should have been P3 here. But Layla, Kais, even Harrison and Ava had pulled something special out on their runs. And nothing was working.

The results came in, and bit by bit, the ships came into their airlocks, and debriefs, reviews of data, and performance metrics were reviewed, ready for tomorrow's race.

Even with the different setting, the air felt tense, and every pilot knew that Luna's technicality, and unique challenges meant not all pilots and craft yielded what they would expect.

Qualifying Results




[color=gold]
Post Qualifying Interviews


Inside the more sealed environment of the Mare Austral compound, under pressure at last, a panoramic overview of the track behind a glass window gave Delta Hyper a good backdrop for interviews- with Aurora's figure appearing once again, the sofa brought back in and (mostly) clear of lunar dust, so it didn't eat into the less-serious undersuits that the pilots wore beneath their spacesuits.

@Starlance

"An impressive 9th place for you Bea- and wow, 5th for Ava! Stacked between Zygon and Valkyrie, how do you think you'll carry your qualifying speed into the race tomorrow, as it looks like your setup here seems to be dialled in?"




@MrSkimobile

"Kais, an excellent 3rd place, and it seems like both you and Layla are really thriving here in Luna. Do you think you can close the gap to Silver Apex and Southern Cross here, and still show the team has the ability to challenge for the Constructors?"




@LadyAmber

"Paul, not the best qualifying for you, but it seems like Dorian was struggling even worse. Do you think you can turn that around tomorrow, based on your comfortable practice sessions?"




@Enzayne

"Han, not the best result for Zygon, after a very promising Portuguese GP. Do you think you have the race pace to keep Valkyrie and and Carrera at bay, and keep them on their toes?"




@Sylvan

"Nora, it seems like Al-Saqr are definitely becoming a force in the last few races. What do you think of their performance, and do you think tomorrow you'll be able to bring out some of the magic we've seen from you in the last few races to get back those positions?"
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