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In DELTΔ HYPER (An F1 Drive to Survive inspired Anti-Gravity, Slice of Life, Cyberpunkish/Solarpunkish RP) → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
DELTΔ HYPER
Episode One: Finding their Feet

"Ava has smiled just once!" Aurora chuckled, smiling, as Bea continued to respond, the literal Aurora in hologram chuckling.

"Well, I'll hold you to that, Bea. #RallyBrave! Any last words for the crew before you get started?"

”Why ‘last words’, I don’t plan on leaving this early.” Bea shrugged with a cheeky smile, ”On a slightly more serious note the team did a bang up job not only with setup and preparation but also adapting the ship to tech they’ve never worked with before. They’ve done all they could, up to me to deliver now.”

Sunday March 5th, 2094, 13:15
Auckland, NZ
Grid photo
With the photoshoot done, Bea was eager to get back to the paddock and get out of the suit for a few more hours. Without the immersion liquid, it was getting toasty in it. Hearing her name called out by a voice she couldn’t readily assign to a face she turned around, in no small amount of disbelief at who she saw waving her down. Walking backwards and slowing down to allow Amy to catch up, Bea didn’t know what she expected from the ensuing exchange, but definitely not that.
”Flustered? Who, me?” She pointed to herself with a smile, perfectly timed as she went slightly red in the face. She turned around to walk forward again when Amy caught up, not feeling Amy’s hand much through her suit while her own probably weighed down on the other Brit’s shoulder. ”I’m all ears.” She replied when Amy said she’d be in touch, not getting another sentence in before the three time champion slinked away.

Nearing the team area in the paddock, Bea caught up to Ava. ”Good luck today, Comandante.” She gave her teammate a light-hearted salute before the two parted ways.

Sunday March 5th, 2094, 17:00
Auckland, NZ
Paddock
The interview might have been over, but the Delta Hyper cameras were still rolling. In one of the Carrera Condor garages, a ritual was taking place. Bea stood in the back of the garage, arms held out to the sides, a crew member working on her suit. Noticing the lurking camera, she beckoned it closer with her hand, the camera remaining outside the garage to be out of the way, yet close enough to pick up audio.

“Aight, should be solid.” Larry, a 72 years old and 108 kilogram Pridwen employee in charge of the liquid immersion tech said after rechecking the fit of her suit.
Bea took a step back and did a series of stretches and jumps to run the suit through its range of motion and make sure it was settled properly and not shifting. ”Feels good.”
He handed her a rubber cap that held her headset, head cam and kept her hair dry and in check inside the helmet, attaching four laryngophones contained in patches about the size of a post stamp to her throat - defense sector equipment from a few decades back made available to the public maybe 30 years ago - as she fastened the cap and connected the comms.
”Radio check?” Alistair’s voice came over the radio after getting a thumbs up from Larry.
She moved her head and jaw around to make sure the laryngophones were secure. ”Good check.” Bea answered without moving her lips, her voice coming through the team radio and the suit’s built-in speaker. Speaking with the helmet, mouth and lungs full of liquid would’ve been a tough ask, requiring subvocal recognition to circumvent the problem. Using the neural link was initially suggested but quickly discounted as unnecessary, and since Bea’s headcam was recording mic input as opposed to the radio itself, her inner monologue would be audible in the recording as an added benefit for the fans.
Next came the breathing mask that helped move the liquid in and out of her lungs before she put on the helmet and the suit was pressurized to verify the seals held tight. “Seals aight, good for the liquid?”
”Am I ever?” A mix of unease and disgust apparent in her voice despite the attempt at humor.

The suit filling was never pleasant, but it was tolerable. Yet no matter how many times she’d done it, her heart always started racing as the liquid started rising past her shoulders and her brain had to confront the fact that she was about to inhale something that felt like water and smelled like rotting apples. Good thing Larry had been in charge of that program since the first flight tests and knew how to talk people through it.
All in all pretty good. The first time they’d done this four months ago, she had a full-blown panic attack.

Final checks complete, she approached the ship, the typical Carrera Condor eight-bit rainbow with the name “Akela” airbrushed under the canopy on the left side in Bea’s handwriting, and took her seat in the cockpit, wiggling around to sink into the gel-like crash couch almost like sitting on a beanbag chair. Doing up the safety harness, Larry disconnected the portable liquid circulation unit, connected the immersion liquid hoses to the ship and rechecked her straps. The HUD came on; track map, lap counter, start lights and current flags, a compressed 360° view around the ship and proximity indicators among others supplementing the neural feedback. “Good luck today.” Larry patted Bea’s shoulder, returning her fistbump.

The race

”Mulder point oh nine behind, point one five per lap faster.”
”Are we racing him or not?”
”Our fight is elsewhere.”
She moved off the line on the next straight, the video and eye tracker showing she checked to see if he waved like they joked before the race, unlikely as it was. Taking a hand off the controls at that speed was closer to her levels of insanity.

”Yellow yellow, sector two.”
”Who? They alright?”
”Falkner. Don’t know yet.”
Bea glanced at the wreck as she passed it a few seconds later. ’Come on, man, get out.’ The recording voiced her thoughts.
”He’s out and walking.” Alistair informed her not 20 seconds later.
”Good.”

”Lowry point three behind.”
”Power?”
”Charged.”
Bea took an early apex, narrow-exit line through the next corner to set her up for the ELS charging passthrough on the next straight. At the same time, Lowry braked early and went for a pass down the inside, allowing her to get on the power early and shoot out of the corner like a kicked football with Fitzroy taking advantage of the opportunity and following her through.
”Fuuuuh!”
”Head down, he’s slow in tight corners.”
’And I’m in the head.’
She ended up having to use the energy to close the gap she created by wasting her time charging. She had a look down the inside into the next turn, a right-left chicane on and off Domain Drive, Henry covering his back in the first kink but the move compromised his line through the following left-hander and allowed Bea to switch over, stick her nose in before he turned into the corner and slip through with maybe three centimeters between her ship and the wall, but by that point Lowry had expended her ELS charge and was too far ahead to catch in the remaining two laps.

Post-race interviews
"Hey Bea, a nice and steady race for you there and tangling with the back of the mid-pack, with lots of cut and thrust. Looks like lots of lessons learned in your first round on strategy and ELS, but you showed some promising pace and I imagine with more underneath you, you'd do better! What do you think you've learned the most from that race?"

”You’re too kind. I don’t know what race you were watching, but that was everything but nice, I drove like a complete bellend. Take away the technical failures and poor Ulrich’s incident and I’d be P19. Yeah, you could say ‘that’s racing, it still counts’ but we all know that’s not the case outside of the leaderboard. I’ve got work to do.” Bea took the brutally honest route, ”Definitely lessons learned today, some stupid mistakes that could’ve been easily avoided, figuring out when charging is and isn’t worth it…
Congratulations to Ava, an amazing result given the machinery we’re working with. Clearly there is some pace in the ship, it’s just a matter of figuring out how to get it out.
And shoutout to Nora, obviously. Even if their ship is second best on the grid, beating an experienced teammate on debut is nothing to sneeze at.”

Bea Ward @MadBea:
"Not the result I was hoping for today, but the past is to be learned from and the future to be looked toward.
Shoutout to @FlyingAva for a stellar performance today, keeping the Kittens looking over their shoulder. Looking forward to making that a proper 2v2 next race!”
#CarreraCondorFA #FormulaAG #AGRacing #AucklandAGP

CarreraCarmen: P11? Could it be? Could this be hope? After all these years? O.O

Zero: With Ava P11, I can’t wait to see what you’ll do once you get familiar with the ship.
Xinny: Don’t forget the upgrades. Imagine what the Pridwen tech will bring!
MadBea: Can’t talk about that, but it will be big!
DohnJoe: they finna roll up with a whole fighter jet
Xinny: Imagine an Ikeya or an Antares-B pulling up on the grid.
GalwayGirl: Oh she’d do it if it was legal.
User420: Ain’t cheating, ain’t trying ;)
MrSmooth: That Silver Apex grindset :D

Mate0: We really lost Joaquin for this?
IronBeer: He had twice the JFA time, half the points to show for it, the media presence and charisma of a dead fish and the best sponsor he brought was a catering company.
Javi: shut ur bitch ass up, nobody asked u
Briat77: Dude she’s not gonna do you no need to suck up.
Mate0: Pirata copium.
UrbanMaverick: Seethe, Argie.
Sol_de_Mayo: Agree it was quite sad. Maybe should stick to painting, she’s actually good at that.

UrbanMaverick: All you haters need to seek grass. You’re chatting shite about someone whose art helped pull me through depression. The hell did Ibanez ever do for anyone but himself?
MadBea: Glad to know you’re doing better and I appreciate your support, but try to keep things civil, please.

Richie: Tad disappointed with Bea honestly. She’s cute and all and we still stan our national goofball in this house, but she needs a few good ones if she wants to prove she belongs in FA, otherwise she should go back to rallying and get that Driver’s WRC.
AndesAG: wouldnt mind if she did, she and burns were comedy gold. That polish stage without power steering sends me everytime
DohnJoe: bro imagine the team radio if he was her race engineer :D please make it happen @CarreraCondorFA

Hotstuff: pretty shitty of villarosa to fuck off into the distance like that, literally starting behind one another FFS
TheMassive: It’s called a motor race, they went motor racing
MadBea: A bit of help would’ve been nice, or we might’ve both ended up in the depths of Hell. Remember that in the end, all 20 of us are there to do the best for ourselves.

Timothy Hill @TruckerTim:
"YOOOOO! My cuz is a cargo handler at the Auckland airport and he just saw @SilverStirling and @MadBea boarding Stirling’s shuttle together!”
#Auckland #FormulaAG #ConspiracyTime
In Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
The Colonel’s call found Marit in the middle of several scrap piles, shifting uncomfortably every few seconds as a seam of her jacket kept finding some of the spots visited by the whip. Turning to follow the tracks a pair of small feet left in the mud that she’d been ignoring the past 30 seconds, she tapped on an old overturned oil drum with her knuckles. ”Found ya.” When the barrel remained silent, she rolled it with her foot, eliciting a surprised yelp followed by giggling from the inside.
”Come out, the Colonel’s calling.” She knocked again, a curly-haired boy sticking his head out of the drum. ”You’re it, I have to go. Thierry and Gemma are somewhere near that old red crane over there, haven’t heard the others.”
The boy saluted, crawled out of the drum and ran off in the indicated direction.

Marit covered the distance between the far scrap piles and the briefing tent in an impressive amount of time, barging into the briefing tent like the No Leaf Clover making a combat drop. ”Already?“ She asked with surprise and joy in her voice, bereft of any shadow of doubts. If the Colonel said they were ready, they were ready. ”Hello, Ingrid.“ She said with a smile as if she’d only then noticed the Duchess standing in the door the whole time. ”That’s a lot earlier than I hoped.” Finally. With no hostages to be held over them and constant fear for their safety, they’d finally have free reign to act. And they’ll get the old Family Man back on top.

Marit hoped, for the Crimson Fists’ sake, that they were enjoying their lives. Because they were about to get short.
In Wizard Mafia (Harry Potter Organized Crime RP) → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
”Noted, Bobby. Alícia” She returned the handshake. She stood back up to greet another one as soon as she sat down, introducing herself by her first name to the lanky, bald man - Greek, as indicated by the ‘malaka’ - approaching the table. It reminded her of the year at Durmstrang and having to get a Comprehension Charm cast on her every day. Worth it though. She greeted the second arrival in the same way before realizing something was wrong, moving to a seat as far away from the danger noodle as the booth allowed and Alícia spent the rest of the meeting giving the serpent the side eye. Pretty famous name on that one, perhaps just a coincidence, but at least she’d be easy to remember.

She observed the heated exchange between Bobby and the other guy, briefly considering trying to defuse the situation before deciding it wasn’t really her problem to deal with. She did, however, reach into a front pants pocket under the table, her fingers finding the textured ebony wood handle of her wand inside the modified pocket, the words ‘Petrificus Totalus’ staging on her tongue just waiting to jump into action.
”I wonder why he got passed over. Noooo clue at all…” Alícia noted idly when the booze barrel sauntered away, letting go of her wand. ”Is there a full name to the face, just in case all the hot air blowing from that direction ever brings a monsoon?”

With a plate of waffles on the table and the serpent in her field of view at all times, Alícia listened to Bobby’s briefing carefully, taking mental notes. Animagi. That could go two ways: Either they were like her and this would go smoothly, or they would end up in a fight with a polar bear or a jaguar or somesuch nonsense.
”Nothing like taking a nice walk through the park and stopping for a drink. But street rat fingersmiths to underground speakeasy proprietors? That’s got to be a whole pile of Dragots to get started, right? Even if they’re targeting the No-Maj’s because there’s more of them and their police are useless at dealing with magical crime, how much can they be making picking pockets and stealing bicycles?” She wondered.
In DELTΔ HYPER (An F1 Drive to Survive inspired Anti-Gravity, Slice of Life, Cyberpunkish/Solarpunkish RP) → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
DELTΔ HYPER
Episode One: Finding their Feet
Saturday March 4th, 2094, before qualifying


"We'll have to see what comes up later today! What do you think of Ava Villarosa, your team-mate? You say you want to be comparable- what do you think splits the two of you?"

”We’ve done a lot of sim training together in the off season and I think we complete each others’ skillsets well. Ava is a very smart pilot, good with all the energy stuff. I’ve got more of the raw driving skill. It’s a mixed track this week so between me and Ava it comes down to who can make up more time in the sections they’re good at to cover the deficit on the other half of the lap. For the race, if we’re competing, it’ll be down to consistency. She’s got me beat there, I’ve been known to pull some boneheaded manoeuvres in the past. But if we play our cards right and play the team game, we can make up for each others’ shortcomings on a track like here, Spa or Rift Valley.” Bea explained. ”Racers who came up through Rallying like Ulrich and I also have this thing, I like to say that we’re ‘Rally Brave’ because we’re fine doing up to 180 kph through a forest down a narrow gravel road so up to 600 kph on a wide, purpose-built track with runoffs, soft barriers and forcefields is almost like a grocery run to us, but the reality of the situation is that we’re plain mad with no self-preservation instinct.” She added semi-seriously. That could be both an asset and a drawback, being both the core of her racing style and th reason behind those early boneheaded maneuvers.
”Off the track, I think we’ll work great. Every comedy act needs a straight man to the weird one and Ava is perfect for that. Besides, I’m already used to having a responsible older sister trying to keep me- Well… Not ‘grounded,’ that would be pushing it, ‘within sight of the ground,’ that we can talk about, so now I basically have two. Let’s see if they can manage.” She ended with a cheeky grin.

”Has she smiled in your interview at all?” Bea asked, laughing when Aurora’ hologram answered, ”Just once? We’re working on it. Results by the Lunar AGP, I promise!” She said with her right hand raised in a pledge.

Saturday March 4th, 2094, 20:05
The video was shot on her phone as Bea ducked and weaved through the crowds, the format indicating a short, spontaneous video rather than something planned. If she was normally excitable, she was practically bouncing off the walls. ”Oh my God, I just learned that Keira Weaver is in the Southern Cross VIP zone! Hang on, I gotta go through the restricted areas, I feel bad rushing past the fans trying to flag me down.” She went through a door and continued down a sterile white corridor, a completely different world to the vibrant fete outside. ”Okay, for those who don’t know, not only is ‘Raven Squad’ both my favourite action movie and my favourite comedy of all time, Sam Dalton also happens to be my favourite character in that movie, so she’s not leaving the paddock until I get my hat signed. I don’t care what it takes, I will eat the false imprisonment charge if I have to.” She laughed before the video ended.
Saturday March 4th, 2094, LA:TE
Bea wasn’t a racer who came up from the grassroots nor did she try to cultivate the image of one, she came from two generations of money and everybody knew it, but she understood the power of the common folk. Yes, those who could afford VIP passes paid a lot, but those who couldn’t were a lot more numerous. A lot of the time, they were also more pleasant. Not always - and even among the regular people there were those who felt like the world spun around them - but the money crowd tended to bring entitlement along in greater numbers, or more likely greater concentration. As always, a loud minority souring the reputation of the greater whole. So she always made sure to slip out of the VIP zone at somewhat regular intervals to get amongst the actual pillars of the sport. Security wasn’t happy about that, but they agreed to a compromise that she’d stay near the entrance of the VIP zone where those stationed at the door could keep an eye out on her without leaving their posts.

That’s how a video of Bea singing ‘The Wild Rover’ with a trio of drunken Irish fans before excusing herself with an apology and a maybe-true-maybe-false line about sponsor commitments when they suggested ‘Come Out Ye Black and Tans’ next, recorded by someone in the crowd, made it online before midnight. That wasn’t a topic she wanted to risk. She’s had enough of dancing on a similar edge for three years in Rally, with a co-driver from Inverness bringing in fans from all over Scotland.

Sunday March 5th, 2094, 13:00
She felt a little out of place in her racing suit, the segmented hard polymer plates covering as much of its surface as possible making it look like she could shrug off a sledgehammer to the chest, her helmet - similar in construction to the one worn by SR-71 crews a century go and adorned with a sharkmouth-style design of her own making depicting a Siberian Husky, each eye pointing in a different direction and the tongue comically hanging out down the left side of the helmet - held underarm. The suit bore the team’s black and white colors with lime green accents, though if it were painted battleship gray with white numbers, fake rivets and a balkenkreuz it would’ve felt right at home on ‘The Panzer’. The team took full advantage of the mostly flat plates, the chestplate proudly flying the vine-wrapped Anglo-Saxon shield of Pridwen Solutions - ‘Planting dreams, harvesting future’ - among the usual smattering of other sponsor logos all over, the team’s own looming large over her back positioned in such a way that when she moved her arms, the motion of the small, overlapping shoulder plates made it look like the stylized Condor was moving its wings. The girl in charge of placing the logos was pretty talented, and Bea had spent several hours nerding out about graphical design with her when the suit’s appearance was being finalized.

”Big step up from my school in the dress code department. Especially the Falcons, who did your suits and do they take orders?” Bea noted following Henry’s comment, trying to paint over Cassie’s words. ”And hold off on the fighting, the network doesn’t have rights for UFC. If one must get slapped around, might as well get royalties from it.”

She took the first bit of time when they were not being corralled to marks taped to the ground by the director to make rounds around the rookies, specifically those she knew from her two years in Junior Formula AG to shake their hands and wish them good luck, starting with Mulder to tease him about his mechanical failure a bit.
”Your ship was looking nimble in the street section. Well, maybe not yours.” Bea grinned.
“I wanted to give you guys a chance.” He mirrored her expression and tone.
”That’s the spirit. But they know what died, right, or is it dead dead?” She mimed slitting her throat with a thumb for emphasis.
“We’re racing today.”
”There you go, looking forward to it. And fans love it when their driver fights through the field.”
“That they do. I’ll give you a wave when I pass you tomorrow, for your fans.”
”Cheeky bugger.” Bea laughed, ”Good luck, mate.” She moved on after a handshake.
In Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP) → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Boraro
Fireteam Poseidon
Ebrima was the last one out of the SDV, hanging back as the now unburdened submersible ascended a few feet. Once he made sure it had stabilized again, the autopilot was compensating for any currents trying to shift it around and the locator was working, he enabled the image intensifier in his helmet and swam for the surface, trying not to think about the depths below him which naturally made him think about the depths below him. The fish that almost bumped into him, completely unbothered by this unfinned alien creature in its front yard was almost taunting him, but imagining all the ways he could cook the cheeky prick proved a nice distraction.

Switching off the NODs he climbed out of the water, pouring it out of the weapon barrels and scanning the structure above them, Ebrima gave Ban a pat on the back to indicate he was behind him, ready to move and that he’d let him lead. Skye clearly trusted the man, but Ebrima would’ve preferred to see how he worked at least a little bit in person. Ideally that wouldn’t be done on an operation, least of all one with stakes such as these, but life had a way of being an absolute bastard. He suppressed a snicker at the thought of Freya, the second biggest person in the team, being the sneaky one, but technology was amazing like that.
Enri Uemura
Fireteam Viking
Her efforts to mess with Artemis comms were repelled with annoying determination and when she couldn’t get anywhere with it in the next 60 seconds without getting a signal analyzer between two Artemis radios, she went petulant and instead turned her sights on IFF systems. Not much she could do about automated emplacements without the involved dance she did with the AA guns, but the personal IFF beacons weren’t as protected, Artemis likely expecting their troops to be able to discern targets on their own, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t have a harder time when every single Artemis man and woman on the field suddenly lost BLUFOR tracking. She’d been so deep in the zone she had to be shaken out of it by Raph when it came time to get out.

Dismounting added another step into the communications daisy-chain. Tablet, personal radio, hovercraft, allied network up to several steps, hostile network again with more steps possible. They were losing whole microseconds here! Her inward grumbling was interrupted by the sounds of Jamie going to work. She was involuntarily captivated by the carnage for a little bit, but only until she saw a torso and legs go flying in different directions whereupon she huddled up into a ball behind a solid looking container, holding onto her head as if worried her brain would bail out and flee.

But then her brain got some traction, the perfectionist in her recognizing a golden opportunity. SHe reached out to grab Raph by the arm, probably throwing off a shot or two. ”I need one of their radios! Any radio!” There was half a body not that far away, but Enri’s voice made it clear that this was her hidey hole and she was not getting out until they had to move on the tower. Maybe 25 seconds later, Raph came back with not one, but three Artemis radios, correctly deducing that some might have been damaged by the carnage. Connecting them to the Rosetta Tablet, it worked on the second try and Enri Uemura now had access to the Artemis local communications network. She set one AI to analyze the ongoing communications, record voice patterns and figure out which voices belonged where in the command structure while a second one cooked up bogus orders and reports, sending them to one of the allied ships for a final yes or no before transmitting them.

Just in time for the repeater control center to be cleared. She desperately wished she had a closed helmet like she saw some of the Raven operators had to keep the iron smell of blood out as she entered the structure, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired in there. Setting the Rosetta Tablet on a nearby table to alert her to any problems outside that needed her attention, she pulled up a blood-free chair to a terminal and sank into it. ”Highball estimate, ten minutes.” She let everyone know and then she was mentally elsewhere again.
In DELTΔ HYPER (An F1 Drive to Survive inspired Anti-Gravity, Slice of Life, Cyberpunkish/Solarpunkish RP) → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Friday March 3rd, 2094, 08:15

The video opened on a slow pan of Auckland, the camera drone hovering some 25 meters above the ground in front of the main entrance of the circuit and getting a good view of the nearest track features, the mag tracks over the harbor and the sky tower corkscrew in the background as well as the gathering crowds. As it finished a full 360° pan, it rapidly descended to head height to get Beatrix Ward into frame, the new Carrera Condor driver clad in a team branded zip-up hoodie, black pleated skater skirt and wearing a pair of aviators from her merch line and a wide smile while walking backwards toward the gate, arms wide open to welcome the audience. Longtime viewers and people giving it a bit of thought would’ve known the drone had a screen on it showing what the camera saw, allowing her to essentially reverse with a rearview mirror on foot, but at a quick glance she was walking backwards without checking over her shoulder with complete confidence.
”Welcome to Auckland, lads and lasses. Beautiful city, amazing people, one Hell of a race track and my first weekend as a bona fide Formula Anti-Gravity pilot. What a feeling. Obviously we’ve been here for the pre-season testing last week, but… that doesn’t even compare. The last time my heart was racing like this we were 17 points off the leader in WRC 2090.
And I thought to commemorate this, I’d do something weird.” She took off the hoodie and tied it around her waist to reveal a lime green long-sleeved shirt with an image of her 2091 Junior Formula AG craft sliding sideways along the ground in a shower of lenticular-printed sparks and smoke after her antigrav repulsor had failed halfway down Kemmel straight and the caption ‘Slightly suboptimal’ above it printed across the front and a velcro grid along the sleeves holding patches depicting the individual images she had painted on her arms attached to their respective places.
”What do you guys think?” She spun around mid-step with a waltz spin to show it off, ”Merch that grows with us as life keeps going. Pick your favourite colour and print, and instead of me trying to sell you a new shirt at the end of every season, you can just get the patches. It’s cheaper for you, uses less resources to make it and if you only want some pictures and not others, maybe you only want the good without the bad, you can! Or maybe you don’t like me and you want to make a wall of shame out of the left arm pictures.” She giggled at the self-deprecation, ”This is just a one-of prototype so far, so let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in, or if you have some ideas for improvements. I’m all ears.
And with that said,” She beckoned the drone closer with a hand gesture, leaning in closer to whisper to it as if to share a secret, ”Let’s see what mischief we can get into.”
The video continued sped-up, filmed over her shoulder like in a third-person video game as she entered the circuit and headed toward the paddock occasionally stopping to chat with someone, take a picture or sign something, only interrupted once by a slow motion shot when she tripped on a staircase and just barely managed to stay upright, finally fading to black as she entered the Carrera Condor area.

The next one was shot with the drone in front of her as she walked through the paddock.
”So, there was a meeting I can’t show you, hence the cut, but I’ve just been told that Ava and I have Delta Hyper interviews coming up. Now, I have two options here:
Option one, I go find her and we go to the interview.
Option two, I leave her to her fate and go straight away because a little birdie told me the boom mic guy is cute.”
There was a pause as if she was weighing her options.
”Now as much as a cute guy with a big stick sounds interesting, I’m thinking I’ll start the season by being a responsible teammate and go find mine. Good thing she’s like 19 feet tall, she’ll be hard to miss.” Bea grinned, craning her head to look around. ”More in the official interview, and don’t forget the scheduled fan meets, Saturday at eight PM and Sunday an hour after the race.” She blew the camera a kiss before the video ended on a screen with links to her social media and merch store.

DELTΔ HYPER
Episode One: Finding their Feet


The first shot was of a little girl, maybe five or six, sitting atop an overturned boat completely drenched and laughing hysterically.

The second was the same girl, around seven, dressed in a wetsuit and life preserver and standing on the top step of a podium holding a sailboat-shaped trophy above her head.

A mud-stained rallye buggy with a crumpled roof getting thrown around a chicane on a wet, pothole-filled road somewhere in Wales with the co-driver’s voiceover. “... brake, left four tightens into tight hairpin left, don’t cut- cool it, Bea! Mind the cracked frame!”
“Boring.” Came a one-word reply as the engine tune indicated an upshift.

A three axle World Rallye Championship truck hurtling around a long curve along a Finnish gravel road, front left wheel hooked in the ditch on the inside of the turn to help guide it along, the same co-driver reading pace notes at the rate of a machine gun. “...fourty, big jump over flying finish.”
The truck straightened out just before the jump, soaring over the finish line marker boards and landing in a cloud of dust and pebbles, easing to a stop.
“That felt good. That felt really good.” The co-driver breathed a sigh of relief at a normal cadence.
“I sink I bit my tongue on the laft one, fuck.” Was the driver’s response, the same young woman as before.

A Junior Formula AG ship struggling through some corners before understeering into the wall on the exit of La Rascasse, team radio coming on a second later.
“Bea, you alright?”
A dejected, frustrated sigh. “Yes. Just get me out, man, end this fucking pain.”

That same Junior Formula AG craft sending a wild one down the outside of Turn 13 at Istanbul Park before switching over to cover the inside of T14 and clinching her first win of the series in a photo finish, the same woman’s elated voice coming over the radio. “FUCK YEEEEES! BY MILLIMETRES!” A few heavy breaths, ”I’d just like to say ‘thank you’ to everyone in the garage. I don’t know how you pieced that pile of carbon dust I gave you after quali into a working ship, but at this point I’m convinced that if I gave you breadcrumbs, you’d reassemble the loaf in time for breakfast. You guys are absolute legends, each and every one of you. Dinner’s on me tonight. Thank you!”

Beatrix sitting down on the Delta Hyper couch. “My name is Bea Ward, I’ll be racing for the Carrera Condor Formula AG team in the 2094 season and hopefully beyond.”

Aurora asked her first question, Bea smiling at the art compliment in an unspoken ‘Thank you’. “And everyone who likes them can get some for themselves from the Carrera Cordon merch store, because we need every penny.” She grinned, “Sorry, I had to.” She wiped the smirk off her face before continuing.
“Not much of a sketch yet, obviously after the time between the announcement and now plus pre-season testing I got my easel set up and I know what kind of paints I’m working with and who’s painting with me.” She carried on with the art analogy, “But the ship being what it is, the team isn’t expecting podiums. There’s also some people who don’t like that I’m here, they’d prefer someone else to be sitting here right now and to a point I can sympathize, so my goal for this season is to prove to the team that they’ve made the right call and to the sport that I belong. As long as I’m finishing equal or above where I qualified and I’m not too far behind Ava, I think it’ll be an alright year.”
There was a brief pause as the answer was officially over. “Now watch me get outqualified by both Fitzroy craft.” She added in jest.


Saturday March 4th, 2094, 19:20

“...and that’s both Carrera Cordon ships done, improving on the Fitzroy times as expected, here’s the team radio:” The commentators’ thoughts were interrupted by the double beep and team radio graphic popping up on screen.
“Okay Bea, that’s projected P18, point six one behind Ava.” Her race engineer’s voice came over the radio, Alistair Vale’s calm, measured voice a contrast to Bea’s response.
“Aaah. That fast sector’s still kicking my *BEEP*.” The whine of the engine going quiet in the background as she eased up the throttle, “But it felt better than pre-season. I think this setup is working.”
“Yeah, not bad for your first Saturday. Engine mode ‘Slow’ please and set to recharge.”

25 minutes later, in time for the grid to have settled around them, Bea was out of the craft and racing suit. Getting the breathing liquid out of one’s lungs was neither quick nor pleasant, meaning she only caught the tail end of Ava’s debriefing before the team principal León Alonso, a broad-shouldered man with thick eyebrows and square jaw, outlined her goals for the race - Don’t let Kovalenko through, get past Mensah, keep Waldgard behind her if possible but let him through if it’s a choice between that and crashing or a prolonged energy battle that would let the Fitzroys catch up.

Straight after that was one of the highlights of a race weekend for Bea as she was off to the fan zone. She always seemed more energized there, signing hats, taking pictures and answering unscripted questions, a more relaxed and honest affair than the usual post-session conferences, while sipping a can of ice tea. No one knew, least of all her fitness coach, that it had a decent amount of brandy in it to help get the lingering chemical taste of the breathing liquid out of her mouth.

“Who do you think is gonna be your biggest competition tomorrow?” A young Japanese woman asked while taking a selfie with Bea, arms around each others’ shoulders as if they’d been long time friends.
“Ava, obviously. It doesn’t matter how good or bad your ship is, your teammate is always racing the same machinery, they’re always the most fair comparison. Of the other teams, that would be Waldgard. He’s right behind us, he’s not gonna want to stay there and he’s got the machinery under him to do something about it, but we like our chances on this track. Mulder I’m not even going to bother, he’s going to run rings around us and not run into a challenge until he gets up to the Al-Saqr ships. Poor bastard though, breaking down straight out of the gate.
What’s your take on the ELS? Think it makes the sport better?” Bea listened to the woman’s opinion before turning her attention to the next person.
“So you see Ava as the opposition.” An 80-something, violently Texan man with a freshly signed cowboy hat said.
“Not entirely, I think we both see each other as assets on this track since it’s a good mix of things we’re both good and bad at. Plus we’re nowhere near the points, that’s gonna cool the team rivalry as well. If points are on offer, that might be another matter.
Are you getting your travel money’s worth so far?”
“So you’re expecting P13?” A handsome bloke with a local accent asked, holding up his can of beer for a toast.
“That would be amazing, but I’ll call it P14, Ava P13. Hope for the best, expect the worst, you’ll live a happier life.” She shrugged as she returned the toast, a few others joining in, “Millers qualified really well, I think they’re beyond reach this time around. If we get a good bit of luck, maybe we could even get 12th and 13th, but I’m also hoping to get invited to Astrid’s parties one day so maybe that’s not such a good idea.” Bea added laughing, the fans joining in. “You’re getting a head start on that I see, recommend some local beer brands?”
“What would you say the best part of being a racer is?” A boy no older than 12 asked.
“Honestly, talking to you guys.” A chorus of “Awwwww!”s erupted, “Don’t get me wrong, the racing itself is a hoot-”
“15 degrees and 300 BPM!” Someone a few meters over shouted over the din of the crowd.
“Exactly! But I think every properly raised person likes to make other people happy, and these informal fan chats are a really easy way to do that.” She continued as she removed one of the patches from the prototype shirt’s right sleeve and handed it to the boy, the look of joy in his eyes illustrating exactly what she meant. “What got you into racing?”
In Wizard Mafia (Harry Potter Organized Crime RP) → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
”Where are you going, Filhota?” The middle-aged woman with prematurely-graying hair asked, looking up from the day’s issue of New York Ghost.
”To a job interview.” Her daughter replied as an enchanted hair brush finished brushing her hair.
”What kind of job?” Maria continued, the Ghost and its daily drivel forgotten.
”Stable and paying?” Alícia replied in jest.
”Yes, but what kind?” The elder Correia pressed on.
”Don’t know, I think it said something about a pole and stilettos, I wasn’t really paying attention.” The younger one shrugged.
”Alícia!” The older woman exclaimed as if scolding her daughter for avoiding her question, not quite managing to hide the eyeroll and smile.
”It’s an entry-level job at a family venture. They mostly deal in hospitality.” The young woman lied, telling herself she wasn’t lying to her mother. Technically she wasn’t, as if that made it any better.
”Hospitality? Like a hotel?” Three things were certain in life: Death, taxes and the persistence of a bored person’s questioning.
”Not quite. I have to go, I’ll get some Pastel on the way back. Até mais!” She tried to end the conversation on a savory note before transforming into a crow and flying out of an open window.

When Alícia received the instructions about where she was supposed to meet Robert Zucco, her first thought was “Must be one hell of a silencing charm on that place if it’s next to Hell’s Kitchen.” Unfortunately, it turned out to refer to a part of New York, not the famous No-Maj - or Muggle, geographically speaking - chef’s restaurant. What a shame, go her hopes up for a good lunch. The crow circled the nearby blocks a few times before diving into an out of sight alleyway. A crow went in the top, a woman came out the side. Before long the sound of cuban heels against the floor heralded Alícia’s arrival to the speakeasy, still with a bit of time to spare by her count. Tall for her nation’s average, clad in a Slytherin green shirt and black jeans, what the No-Majs would call ‘business casual’, and carrying herself as if she naturally belonged there, and technically she did - she had been instructed to be there after all.

She grabbed the drinks menu and turned around to lean against the bar, ostensibly browsing the drinks selection while surveying the patrons. It took her about a minute to see him: Back of the room, tall and generally matching the description. She set down the menu and headed out, eyes fixed on an empty table a few rows beyond Bobby the entire time before making an abrupt stop by his booth. ”Mr. Zucco?” Alícia asked with a polite smile.
In DELTΔ HYPER (An F1 Drive to Survive inspired Anti-Gravity, Slice of Life, Cyberpunkish/Solarpunkish RP) → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

In DELTΔ HYPER (An F1 Drive to Survive inspired Anti-Gravity, Slice of Life, Cyberpunkish/Solarpunkish RP) → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
In Wizard Mafia (Harry Potter Organized Crime RP) → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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