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The Great Automation Run | Chapter 16 and final results!


Chapter 8

The Friala cruised which kept the sound at bay but the abundance of crazy cars in a pack didn’t do much for the lower profile despite the efforts of the racers.

“That pick-up truck is still behind us and that blue Kiito is just ahead of us aswell” said Francesca turning to Kyle and throwing a glance through the rear window at the other racers.

“There’s a Berlose between the Kiito and us it’s all blacked out. Didn’t see it at the start of the race” replied Kyle who also was looking out of the rear window of the car.

As soon as the words left Kyle’s lips the unmistakable sound of gunfire ricocheted through the air and in an instant the three racers stepped on it, the snarling V8, growling V6 and roaring V12 resonated and filled the air but as they racers accelerated the sound of a spooling turbo and straight six engine became audible.

“Holy shit!” yelled Kyle turning to Francesca with his mouth open, his cry was almost completely drowned out by the sound of engines.

The blacked-out Berlose began squeezing the Kiito into the guardrail but cannily the driver of the blue car slowed to avoid a crash and Francesca swerved around the Berlose not managing to catch a glimpse of the driver due to the heavily tinted windows.

“Bloody hell they’re going to kill someone” shouted Francesca as the Berlose driver began to open fire on the barking dog that was hanging out of the window of the pick-up truck. “Oh no you don’t, Kyle get that brick from the glovebox”

“Brick! what brick?!” replied Kyle in a panic whilst rummaging through the glovebox. “Got it never mind.”

Kyle leans out the window brick in hand and just at the moment when the driver of Redneck Express executed a rather skillful pit manouver on the Berlose, Kyle launched the brick into side of the spinning Berlose. Kyle gave the thumbs up to the pick-up driver and crawled back into the car. Francesca changed up a gear, the car whistled and spat and shrieks of civilians were heard.

The road division forced the pack of racers into two sides the Friala piled in with other racers close behind, despite the speed the two inside the car were anxious if they could outrun the tuned Erin’s on the highway.


Cindy nervously rowed through the gears, with the roar of the Thunderbolt’s V8 being the only thing calming her nerves after that ominous helicopter kept watch of the pack. That and the 4 cups of coffee didn’t help either. But just as she looked down from the sky, she saw an even more ominous lone of black cars. As th rolled down their windows, her first instinct was to chuck her (scalding hot) 6th cup at one of them. She then retreated as she heard gunfire.

She had overheard some mob related plans that she probably shouldn’t have, but she didn’t think the race would be targeted by anyone but the cops. She began to brake sharply to avoid incoming fire, using the Thunderbolt’s agility to her advantage.

Even so, she’s shaking from the thought of getting in over her head (that and she threw her last cup of coffee out the window)


#Team Marx

Lenin: oh dear, are those gunshots?

Marx: Sounds like it, but much faster than i ever heard before

Lenin: what kind of gun do you think it is?

Marx: one of the Maxim guns from the American civil war?

Lenin: no, sounds faster than that.

Marx: well i don’t know, i’m not from 1995

Lenin: oh, right.

Marx: then you better keep driving before we’re shot to death!

Lenin: on it.


Team Angus - Chapter Eight

Team Angus - Chapter Seven
GAR - Chapter 8

8th of October, 1995, Sete, France…

As we entered Sete proper, Sooty nonchalantly got up, stretched, then spun the inside camera to face the rear. He then sat next to the camera in a way that rendered re-positioning the camera impossible. My curiosity piqued by this weird behaviour, I looked in the mirror and saw a nondescript Erin Berlose slide into position between us and our rival, the closely following Chevallier. In case this car was a snooping member of the local Gendarme, I chose to keep a low profile. Ben was taking a moment to snooze and Valerie was rooting around in one of her bags, somewhat frantically, muttering about misplacing “it” and sounding rather stressed…

All of a sudden all hell broke loose! Another dark coloured Erin had sidled up alongside the Chev, rolled down the window then the occupant stuck the business end of a H&K MP5-K out the window! The Chev’s occupants ducked just in time as the shooter let off a burst into the cabin. As far as I could tell no-one was hurt but the body suffered some damage. Just then Valerie triumphantly yelled and displayed what she was looking for; a black Beretta 92 compact, chambered in 380 Super. Valerie then proceeded to climb into Ben’s lap then lean out of the window, facing to the rear. She then fired five shots into the front grille of the Erin behind us; the Erin spouted a geyser of steam then swerved off the road into a street light!

Satisfied with her work, Valerie returned to the back seat, even as I was hitting the gas, while Ben woke up thoroughly startled by the shooting and being clambered over. Having removed the blocking Erin, the driver of the Chev also gunned it, shoving the shooter’s Erin aside, his passenger firing a pump-action shotgun at the Erin all the while, then hung onto our tail as we hightailed the heck out of Sete!

What happened next was a breakneck free-for-all! Hurtling through the city, civilians running in panic, gunfire as the goons attacked indiscriminately and screeching tyres as some used drift techniques to avoid them. My, now forward facing, camera picked out two of the more intense moments. One of the goons tried to shoot the dog out of the back of a huge black pick-up and got spun out into a shop front for his troubles. Another goon was fast-tracked to the morgue when she took a bullet to the left eye while trading potshots with the passenger of the Tsukuba.

The highway exiting Sete beckoned so we entered it, hopeful that we’d avoid further involvement with gun wielding goons and the inevitable involvement of local law enforcement…



Kenji’s POV on Chapter 8

  • Uh… - thought Kenji. - Those guys are more challenging than it may seem, and tourist buses don’t help. - Then he had looked at the nearest traffic and other racers in sight. In meanwhile, when the road became more clear he had noticed some black Erin Berloses in his rear mirror.
  • Huh? More racers or undercover police, or what? - the Japanese thought, shortly after hearing the gunshots that were directed at his car - OH SHIT.

Kenji gone rapidly under the window line to avoid getting taken down by a headshot and pulled out his seat, revealing a secret spot for the SMG, which was fully loaded for such occassion. Kenji wasn’t exactly sure where did this come from, but he did not had time to assume. He had pulled out the gun through the opened driver’s window and one-handedly pointed at the Berloses.

Then, after a while of silence, a massive gunfight had begun. Mafia thugs were shooting to Kenji from their machine guns and the Jap did not mess around with them either. To make shooting down even more difficult NRZ began swaying around from one side of the road to another to avoid gunshots and drifted almost every corner to make a smokescreen between Berloses and itself. After some minutes, Shimura had finally managed to take down mafia: One of the Berloses got hit in the radiator, causing it to stop to avoid overheating, another one got it’s rear tyres deflated resulting in crashing into the guardrail and in third one the driver got headshoted.

There was however one, stubborn Erin Berlose with a driver that basicly was so clever that he was predicting all of Kenji’s moves. The Jap had noticed that too and, after the Sete city he did something extremely stupid and unpredictable: he just had jumped onto the rails heading into oncoming freight. Last Berlose’s driver was hotheaded enough to repeat the maneuver - Maesima had turned in the last moment into Quai des Mouins while the Berlose’s driver panicked and basicly sunk his car in the Canal de la Peyrade to also avoid the train.

Kenji, after losing the mafia pursuit, to make up for the lost time with these Berloses rapidly turned into Eaux Blanches Avenue and continued to push the car even harder to reach the legendary 80s touge racer from his beloved country of origin. He also picked some number at his satellite phone and, after gaining connection, asked:

  • Hello? Kenji here.
  • You don’t use this phone very often. What’s the problem? Great Run starts to be problematic? - the voice had replied.
  • You guessed it, Nanaka-san. YOU are supposed to be my support, at least this is what I’ve been guaranteed, so I called. I’ve just avoided some mafia thugs.
  • Mafia…? That’s interesting. What were their cars?
  • Black Erin Berloses, from sound I guess that they had a turbocharger and were stupidly quick. They’re also armored, so can you send me some… backup? - Kenji asked, with a visible grin on his face and sinister voice tone.
  • Shimura, we can provide you air support containing a chopper. Is that enough?
  • I hope it’s in Europe.
  • Yeah, it is, it will take off in some minutes from Paris. Is that good for you?
  • Fuck yeah! Oh, and send something to keep an eye on the yellow Contendiente Ataque. I heard that there’s another Jap in the race, and he might drive this thing. From rumors, he’s a pro so it would be bad if someone would take him down.
  • Roger that.

As the call had ended, Kenji was just about to enter the D114 route and head to north.


More news.

Christmas has been very busy, and the free time I had was used in different things. I’ll be resuming this challenge in the matter of a day at most. Sorry for the greatly delayed chapters. I’ve set myself a goal of finishing this challenge before January is over.

Chapter 9: quick death.

13 december 2017, 21:32PM. Brooklyn Heights, NY, USA.

Aaron grabbed a noteblock and a pen. Holding the phone between his head and shoulder, he gave the cigarette another puff. A hint of a nervous breathing could be heard from the other side of the phone.

“First question. What made you take part in the race?” - Said Aaron.

“What race do you mean?” - Replied the voice from the other side of the phone.

“The Great Automation Run. You took part, in an '85 Contendiente Conquista, with a Nohda engine swap. A V6 from a Nohda Assent you bored and stroked to 3L…am I wrong?” - Said Aaron.

Silence reigned for a few seconds.

“…I did.” Replied the voice. “What do you want from me, Aaron?”

“You know the backlash we could receive if this was found out by one of these street racing bloggers or something like so? Oh, they’d inmediately point at Motornation for giving you a job!” - Replied Aaron, taking a deep breath. “People like these pseudo street races where the drivers stay in the same lane all the time and slow down if someone approaches them. But you, Kuro…you really went overboard.”

Outside Sétè, France, 15:35. 8th of October 1996. 4221km to Athens.
The google maps route can be seen here.

The cars blazed past the bridge, with the few remaining Erins still chasing. A symphony of different engine sounds, at high speeds, was everything that could be heard at the coastal forest. From the sides of the road, between the trees, a few more black Erins joined the chase. The racers knew it. They had to escape now or never.

Special rule!: every car that’s slower than the mafia car will have to roll a drivability roll. If the roll is not passed (the Arrest/s. rule section equals 1) the racer will be shot at and slowed down.

(Musical suggestion by @ramthecowy!)

The initial straight crossing the forest was followed by an s turn. The Bonham started recovering lost territory to the Chupacabra, trying to flee from the gunshots that were taking place further behind; both were followed, although not closely, by the Evo, which struggled to keep up with the two leaders but was comfortably outrunning the rest and the mafia.

The forest was left behind. In the middle of a fight for the place, the Dolphine bumped the Blood Eagle, sending it out of the road. The classic had to recover, which fortunately didn’t end in anything breaking down, but the place was lost. Further down the pack, one of the mafia cars started shooting at the Dingo Z. The gunshots couldn’t hit the driver or codriver, but the swerving necessary to avoid them slowed the car down, which was passed by the Kiito.

As the road widened and they passed a few road restaurants, the T25 and the 350 Biturbo passed the NRZ. The Friala tried to pass the Maesima as well, only to start losing power as soon as the dogfight started. They desperately looked for a place to stop where they couldn’t be seen, finally stopping behind a bush. A broken injector. The two drivers of the car started the repairs as fast as they could.

With the road widening again but becoming straighter, a dogfight between the Tsukuba and the Breezer broke out. Both cars received gunshots from one of the Erins which was ruining their aero and exhaust mounts, and forcing them to slow down due to the scraping.

The racers soon reached Vic-La-Gardiole. The roads soon joined the train tracks, with the group still being chased by the Erins. The Invader was shot by one of the mafia shooters, piercing one of its wheels. Spinning out into a ditch, the driver found themselves forced to duck until the mafia cars passed to start changing the wheel. The long straight allowed some of the cars to stretch their legs and take places; the Comet GT-R overtook the Scagliatti during this stretch.

Inside the narrow roads of the French Coast the racers had a hard time to maneuver. The Arumina, Bushranger, Canny R and the Visios received a few bullets as well, breaking their aero. They didn’t stop, but they’d have to stop to fix it later. The last Erin in the pack tried to send the Montauk out of the road; however, the driver of the car outreflexed him by braking before impact, letting the black car crash into a ditch.

The racers approached Lattes. One of the black Erins tried to PIT the Canny R; the Scarlet, however, was the one to PIT the mafia car, which rolled over after spinning out. The highway was getting wider and wider, and the Erins were starting to either be taken out by the racers or struggling to keep up. The racers stormed throug the town, hearing the gunshots followed by the inhabitants screaming again, bullets sparkling everywhere. The road was divided once again, making the not too wide road tighter even. Some of the racers decided to take alternate routes, going through parking lots and even a mall, finally getting the mafia out of sight.

The group exited the town. The mafia was nowhere to be seen. The racers sighed, relieved. The race was now taking place in the plains of France, with no place for an ambush to happen. But would this be the only time they’d encounter the mafia?

To be continued.


Team Angus - Chapter Nine

Team Angus - Chapter 8
GAR - Chapter 9
Team Angus Bio

Our hopes were dashed that this nightmare would end upon reaching the highway as more nondescript Erins entered the chase, too slowly to catch the leaders but with plenty of time to get in our way. Valerie then informed us that the occupants of the Erins were local Mafia goons and that she knew this because her brother had been killed by the Mafia. Valerie then intimated that she had then gone on a one woman rampage, killing underworld figures left and right, until the police got too close so she fled to rural Spain, where we picked her up…

Suddenly there was a loud thudding against the rear of the car! We were being shot at again!!! Realising that we’d lost track of the Chevalier and that an Erin had taken its place, I took to the side roads to lose the tail. With little room to maneuver, however, this wasn’t working too well. Valerie then switched seats with Ben, who ducked down in the rear so that he made himself a smaller target, and she then fired three shots. One of those shots took out the Erin’s RHF tyre and the rest impacted the bonnet, causing the Erin to swerve violently and crash into a parked car, we were in the clear!

It was then that I noticed the damage. The rear spoilers were holed and loose and were making a terrible racket as they slapped about in the slipstream. Thankfully no-one was hurt and after a brief but frantic search, Sooty was found fast asleep under the front passenger seat. The damaged aero would require us to stop to either fix or remove it but, for now at least, it was too dangerous to do anything but keep racing.

I sure hope nothing bad has happened to that Chevalier…

To be continued


Walter had survived the previous mob hit without so much as a scratch, but was now aware that it was only his first encounter with the mob. This time, the stakes were higher; the mob had sent in reinforcements just to stop the racers from reaching the end of the stage. Escape would be difficult, considering how narrow the roads were, but not impossible. So he called on every last bit of his driving skills, and after a few nervous minutes, evaded all of his pursuers, before setting off in pursuit of the competitors ahead of him.

While Walter’s Guardsman escaped unscathed, he heard rumors that some of his rivals weren’t as fortunate - and would need to conduct emergency repairs sooner or later. This gave him some much-needed hope, seeing as he was still struggling in the lower midfield. But there was still a very long way to go - and Walter knew that the angry mob could return again at any moment. So he reverted to his usual fast, steady pace and kept on driving as if nothing had happened, which was essentially the case.


Luigi: That car’s coming at us rather fast!

Blake: I see him.

Luigi: Shit!

Blake: Hang on!

Blake: Hold on to your ass!
(Blake slams on the brakes, the Erin misses the Montauk and crashes into a ditch.)
Blake: Gotcha you son of a bitch!

Luigi: Who the hell was that?

Blake: I don’t know. They don’t look like cops. And I doubt we’ve seen the last of them.


Lenin: hey God, why are those people shooting at us?

GOD: they’re the Mafia.

Marx: Can you make them stop?

GOD: but why? you’re avoiding them.

Lenin: good point, let them keep shooting the competition then please

GOD: nope.

at that moment the highway opens up letting the cars escape

Marx: throws middle finger up to the sky again


Marcus kept his foot to the floor, the XR-3’s engine screaming to the world as he tried to outrun the Mafia. He kept the little Makarov in his left hand, threatening Mafia and Racers alike if they dared get close to the little fiberglass sedan, occasionally shooting at the black sedans to make his point serious.

Hooking his thumb into the steering wheel, he rummaged through the center console, grabbed the box of roofing nails, flipped the lid open, and let them fly. This was very shortly followed by a mostly-full glass bottle, before Marcus made a sudden weave into the shopping mall.

There was glass everywhere from other cars making their way through here, but Marcus kept his foot down, driving through a booth selling candy in the process. No one was hurt, but he’d managed to add to the mess, the chaos, and the confusion as gumballs went everywhere. He burst out of the mall and made a bee-line for the outskirts of town, to the safety of the open plains.

With little chance of an ambush, Marcus holstered the gun, keeping an eye on his fuel. “Looks like I’ll be okay for a little while.” he said to himself. “But I’m running lower than I’d like. And whoever dragged the Mafia into this is really going to regret it, if I ever find out who they are.”


Cindy is still quite jittery from the lack of coffee. She’s just about to stop and refill when she hears the 2nd round of gunshots. “Fucking hell, who are these people, ans why do they hate us? No way those are cops. If they were, they’d definitely have choppers and roadblocks set up. I don’t know, this shit’s too shady for me.”

She cycles to a fresh tape the first free moment she has.

The gunfire and ramming picks up again, and she makes a hard right through a small parking lot to avoid being rammed. The Erin driver she threw her coffee at wasn’t happy to see her. But the V8’s sheer potency helped her keep her distance. She quickly sped off as they got out onto the plains, where she sped up, hoping to gain positions. In the meantime, Cindy tapped into her water reserves, still lamenting the total lack of caffeine.


“Shit, there’s one still running Christopez!” Pasquale shouted as the big, black Erin slid around the corner and back onto the road.

Christoforo looked to the side mirror on his side and squinted, seeing the Erin several cars back in the line of traffic. “A Belrose?”, he exclaimed as he downshifted the 330 and floored the accelerator, a black puff of smoke coughing out of the quad exhaust pipes as the Scagliati surged down the road. “I’m starting to think this is amateur hour rather than a group of professionals!” The 330 threaded neatly through the traffic, pulling away slowly but steadily from the bulky, black sedan, hopelessly matched against the nimble Italian roadster.

“Let’s find some roads out of town, Christopez…less chance of an ambush like this again!” Pasquale shouted over the wailing V12, checking his pace notes while keeping a watch on the police radio band. “Here, take a left at the roundabout, we’ll be back in the open before too long,” pointing to the road toward Lattes and Montpelier. Christoforo flicked the 330 into a lurid drift, the tall sidewalls of the vintage-style tires rolling over as the car overwhelmed its tires for a brief moment, then straightened out and launched down the road with aplomb, leaving the Erin far behind as the 330 zigged and zagged through the mid-afternoon traffic.

“Do you think they’ll be back any time soon?” Christoforo asked Pasquale, relaxing a little as the worst of the danger seemed to be past.

“That depends,” Pasquale replied, “if they got their mark, then I doubt it. But since it sounds like everyone in the race is unharmed, there’s a good chance they will be, and they won’t be as easy on us as the last time!”

“What have we got ourselves into, Zocca?”


Chapter 10: Safe Passage.

13 december 2017, 21:33PM. Brooklyn Heights, NY, USA.

“I had been driving for Maine Motors in the IMSA GTO category, and was offered a place in the Japanese GT series. This race, you know, I often heard of these Cannonball runs and was curious about them, this race was a way to test myself. The ultimate endurance race, with opponents willing to do anything to win the race. The money price was a juicy bonus too, but I knew I wouldn’t win the race towards the first kilometres of Italy.” - Replied the voice.

“Right, right…well Kuro, you just dug your own grave. Not literally, it’s not like I’m gonna send thugs after you…but say goodbye to Motornation Japan. You’ll be moved to the main branch.” - Replied Aaron, pressing his worn cigarette against the ashtray.

“Aaron, we can-” - Tried to reply the voice on the other side.

“You’ll reply when I ask you to reply if you don’t want me to expose this. Now listen up, I still have a few more questions for you.” - Replied Aaron.

D172, France, 15:42. 8th of October 1995. 4195km to Athens.
The google maps route can be seen here.

The mafia was nowhere near to be seen. While most of the drivers were still keeping an eye out just in case, most of them let a sigh of relief escape, focusing on the task of driving as fast as they could, blitzing their way through the French roads. Their next waypoint would be crossing the French-Italian border at Mortola Inferiore. Roughly 400km away.

Musical suggestion by @ramthecowy!

The driver of the Chupacabra got confident with their first place. In fact, too confident. As soon as they could realize, both the Bonham and the Evo Rc blitzed past it, and the Guivre was getting way too close.

As the racers left Milhaud behind, they took the first detour out of the highway, to avoid sticking out like a sore thumb. The road was still wide, but it was progressively getting twistier and twistier. It was there where the Blood Eagle tried to overtake the Dolphine, but the Dolphine held up, blocking attempts from the Blood Eagle to overtake. The road became a sucession of soft S turns, which the drivers negotiated while avoiding traffic at the same time. The Blood Eagle and the Dolphine were both overtaken soon after by the Cannonnero.

The road was getting tighter and tighter as they approached Arlés. The drivers knew they had to cross the city; and they blitzed through it, not giving the local police a chance to keep up nor organize. As the urban highway became a long straight, the Kiito overtook the NRZ, taking its position. The 219+35 was also winning places swiftly thanks to the long straight, which allowed it to show its true power to the competition. The T25 was overtaken by the Interval as well, at the same time as the driver of the truck was seeking revenge on the Friala for overtaking them earlier, but failing as the roads became twistier again.

The racers kept taking the detours the route indicated, towards the mediterranean coast once again. The coast was finally reached as they arrived at Fréjus, a town the racers could luckily avoid. The Chevallier and the Bushranger were back at it, fighting for their place. When both teams less expected it, the Erin Scarlet powered through both of them. Both the Chevallier and the Bushranger ran out of fuel, the drivers looking at each other as they refilled their petrol tanks. During the same “rampage”, the Scarlet got revenge against the Bandito, and took the Arumina’s place as well. But before they ran out of luck, they overtook the Visios too, the Erin being now in the mirror of the Perenne.

It wasn’t long before they reached Monaco, leaving the city behind by the closest highway. Menton would be the last city before the Italian border. They had to prepare to cross the border somehow.

They finally reached the border. Two police agents greeted the group, starting to inspect their vehicles. One of the policemen frowned, recognizing the cars. The policeman tried to unsheath his pistol to try and arrest the racers, when the other policeman knocked his partner down. He winked at the racers, holding his partner, as he gave them greenlight.

Before the racers left, the policeman approached the Bonham, the first in line.

“I reckon you have 5 or so minutes before the rest of my coworkers realized he hasn’t just fainted. Hurry up.” - He said.

The racers started crossing the border. Italy was waiting for them at the other side, greeting them with a “Welcome to Italy” sign. The copilots and racers checked the maps one last time as they entered the Autostrada dei Fiori. Their next stop: crossing Italy and then Switzerland to get to Germany.

The driver of the lime green wagon looked at his mirror, only to realize something: the Evo had caught up.

To be continued.

Times spreadsheet:


With a fresh tank of gas and a fresh supply of coffee, Cindy eagerly sped off to rejoin the now largely peaceful race. She was still wary of that helicopter and whoever it was hauling, but the race had gone fairly smoothly, only being thrown off balance by the smell of the other driver’s cigarettes and a barking dog in the truck behind her. The sweeping turns gave the Thunderbolt an edge thanks to its quick acceleration.
Cindy only got nervous again as they approached the Italian border. “I really hope we lost the cops back in Spain. If we did, maybe the Italians don’t know about us. Just play it cool…” She prepared her passport so as to avoid arousing suspicion upon arrival. However, a guard waved everyone past. As she drove by, she noticed another guard lying unconscious next to him. “That’s…odd. That shows that he knew what we were doing. And if he found out, who knows how many more did.” She immediately floored it in preparation for a possible police chase within the next few minutes, and the next song kicked in at just the right time.


After filling the XR-3’s fuel tank, Marcus hurtled down the road, surprised at the sudden calm.

“Calm before the storm… We’re heading into Italy, the heart of the Mafia. I wouldn’t be surprised, not in the least, if we got ambushed trying to speed through the land of fast cars.” Marcus said to himself, lighting a cigarette and throwing his match out the window.

As he approached the border, Marcus kept his foot down, letting the XR-3’s tri-cylinder engine blare out a thundering roar, though pulsed the neons in thanks as he crossed into Italy.

Once past the border, Marcus laid into it, flicked the neon lamps into Strobe mode, and planned to put as much distance between him and the border as he could as fast as possible.


Team Angus - Chapter Ten

Team Angus - Chapter 9
GAR - Chapter 10
Team Angus Bio

The highway proved to be the right choice. Whoever organised the Erin attack had either run out of goons or had chosen to regroup to strike back later on in the race. The way was now clear to get on with the business of winning the race. This was much easier said than done, however, as we had been rejoined by the Chevalier!

Team Chevalier

They’d managed to get ahead of us using a different path and they were punching hard for the horizon. Immediately a red mist descended and it was Bushranger, no Chevalier, no Bushranger!!! NO!!! The Chev is in front!!! We must have traded places (and paint :blush:) at least a hundred times; a constant to and fro of angry V8’s vying for the lead.

All of a sudden, as a small gap appeared between us around a sweeping left-hander, a dark blue shape slipped between us like Steve Bradbury winning gold at the olympics. The unassuming coupe gracefully held an elegant drift as it made full use of the gap available, never touching either of us, then straightened for the next bend and disappeared over the yump of the next section of road.

Catherine Erin the Scarlet!

I resolved to chase after our new quarry but, somewhat embarrassingly, the bushranger had drained her fuel tank dry! Fortuitously the Chev had also run out of fuel so we kept our distance from Team Chev (other than a couple of sheepish grins from Ben and an unblinking stare session from sooty) , filled the car from the spare fuel containers and… watched as the Chev guys finished first and roared off.

I was emotionally gutted and physically exhausted by now so we let Valerie drive. I sat in the back and rested my eyes for a bit while Valerie drove to a place where we could patch up the body damage and where she also could procure some items for us to use if the goons showed up again. We arrived at a rural property where Valerie drove to an old garage to the rear of the main house. She parked the Bushranger and entered the garage by a side door while Ben broke out the race tape and patched up the spoilers. Valerie emerged with a duffel bag and some bottles of Coke, handed out the Cokes (labels towards the camera) and let us in on what was in the bag… An AK74SU and spare magazines plus a couple of Soviet era Marakovs!!!

She handed each of us a Marakov and a couple of mags, slung the AK about her chest, shouldered the duffel bag then gave the keys for the car to Ben. We loaded into the car, once we’d enjoyed our icy cold beverages, then set off to rejoin the race; Ben was now driving, Valerie was riding shotgun and I was snoozing in the rear. Just as we were exiting the property, Valerie indicated for Ben to stop then she rolled down her window, whistled loudly then waited; Sooty leapt through the window and plonked himself onto a stack of spare clothes in the back of the cabin and curled up, fast asleep. We then roared off, rejoined the race, then found ourselves being waved through the Italian border, hard on the tail of our perennial rivals, Team Chevalier…



I have been meaning to write but with exams around the corner and bad luck at work, it’s been hard enough to get anything of anything done. I’m betting that Anna didn’t even notice the whole mafia business unfolding behind her, running a very lonely race and a (losing) battle mostly for her sanity (as reflected by the increasingly dishevelled state of her cabin) as she’s been trying to run at 100% for the entire time to chase down the estimated four or five cars that overtook her while she was trying to repair the broken front splitter from her airborne shenanigans. If she heard gunshots she’d probably assume it was backfire from a nearby car.

But now the Bonham’s just barely in her sights, and even if the Devil were driving that wagon, she’s going to chase it down.


so Valerie is actually a Soviet spy?


Maybe, maybe not. Depends on where the story goes I guess… But I’m probably going to go with ex-spy since she has the skills to mass murder a bunch of organised crime dudes for killing her brother. :cowboy_hat_face: