2022 Shitbox Rally - Out of This World! (Results Out!)

TEAM HILLBILLY ROLLERS
PART 1.0 - Now things got serious)

After Janne vent back to the van, he spotted a new face over at the RK Racing team, that looked suspiciously familiar. “WTF”, he thought. “Constantin Schrant? What is he doing here”. Back at the van he was interrupted by Andreas, that had heard that the drivers meeting was going to be in just a few minutes, so they better had to hurry with finishing what they had to do.

The team had barely arrived at the drivers meeting before they got interrupted by a kind of familiar sound.

A: “Who is revving a V6 like a maniac?”
M: “Someone arrived in a Pontiac Trans Sport!”
J: “That’s not a Pontiac Trans Sport!”
M: “What is it then?”
J: “Eh…yeah, what the… What IS it?”
A: “And look who is stepping out of it. Thibault Prosper!”
M: “Thibault who?”
A: “Well, once a somewhat famous rally driver, now he has done a mistake too much and works as…ehm, more or less Ronald Mc Donald.”
M: "Yeah, and you are a folkrace driver.
A: “Uhm… SHUT UP, the hosts needs to say things and you are disturbing them.”

The next cars to arrive was a Dauer and an AST, but even if they were spectacular in their own rights, they weren’t as strange and interesting to the team as a Totally not a Pontiac Trans Sport but what is it, driven by a failed ex WRC driver. They heard Malavera speak about the rules and Marie had a hard time understanding them.

M: “What is he saying?”
A: “More or less that you should be locked into the van and not be allowed to leave it. That’s the only way to prevent disaster, I guess.”
M: “No, that was not what he was saying.”
A: “Then shut up and don’t ask.”
M: “Uhm…can’t copper turn your fingers green?”
J: “Yes it can. Can a drunkard turn a whole damn van pink? The answer is YES!”

All in all, though, there was something exciting with driving through some unknown backwoods, or whatever it was supposed to be. Without having to use the whole 1989 Radio Shack catalog to be able to get there.

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RK Series Racing; Pre-Race Camp; Part 2

After a brief bout of away-from-car activities with curious participants with either questionable looks, questionable behavior or both, Tim and Connor return to the car, greeting Constantin in the process.
They don’t get far, as the driver meeting is called out and the host team explains what ill be happening, just to be interrupted twice. The second disturbance was a rather flamboyant rally-style car, covering The Dione itself, the rear bench and Valentin further back in dirt.

Tim: [shouting across] “Good going, lads! Covering 8 people in dirt for some asshattery…”
Valentin: [mumbling] “Really?”

Valentin starts work on getting copious amounts of dirt brushed out of his vast haircut. Connor, meanwhile practically records what is said about the driver’s meeting, with both Tim and Constantin also paying attention. The first confusion starts to arise once the ring is explained and how it will teleport them back to Earth if the instructions are acted upon.

Tim: “Wait what? We’re leaving Earth?”
Constantin: “Seems like it… somehow… At least there seems to be an emergency shutoff… ring.”
Tim: “Not like it’s the first time. Last world with that GT racing stuff just felt like 90s America.”

They get back to following the driver meeting and the explanation of the rules, which seem perfectly sensible given the difference in tech between us and them. The same applies to the map reveal, given the context of interplanetary travel. Even Connor isn’t phased much by the theoretical impossibility of this ordeal physics-wise. When it comes to supplies, things start to get a little more interesting, as they did not have the time or materials to install a CB-Radio before getting here. Nor did they feel a need to, since the initial assumption did not take them as far away from Earth. Once the explanation is done with, they gather up behind the Dione, where Valentin was still occupied with his hairdo.

Tim: “So i take you two already know each other?”
Valentin: “Not really, since you never told me he’d be here…”
Tim: “Met him through some AMA thread on Reddit. Thought some more specialized survival skills might come in handy.”
Valentin: “That… is true.”
Tim: “Anyway, we probably should collect the ring and sort out the Radio stuff. Probably won’t have phone reception over there…”

Tim heads off towards the host team in order to collect the as-of-yet empty map, their emergency teleport ring as well as sorting out the radio rental service offered. Connor and Constantin are tagging along, while Valentin stays at the car, both uneasy at the sight of the humanoid-tiger/ wolf hybrids and also not done with clearing up dirt yet. The group of three approach Rukary:

Tim: “Well i heard you have some spare Radios we could borrow? We maaaay or may not need one. Also might as well get the Map and ring stuff sorted.”


@Madrias

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Team Shift Happens

Team Information

Previous Chapters:
The Plan / Getting the Truck / The Email
A Trick and a Wager / I Hate Scorpions!
Let’s Get This Party Started / First Arrivals - Starting Party 6 AM
Making Friends? - Starting Party 7 AM
A Moment in Time - Starting Party 7:30 AM
Another Team Arrives / War Songs in the Camp - Starting Party 8 AM
A Grand Reveal / An Army of Soda Cans - Starting Party 8:30 AM
Drivers’ Meeting - Starting Party 9 AM



Shitbox Rally Starting Party, 9:15 AM Local Time

Rukari looked up as Tim asked him about a spare radio, the map, and the ring. “Nekasi, will just be one moment,” Rukari said, before grabbing the registration sheet and double-checking what they had written down. Grabbing four rings in the proper sizes, he handed them over to Tim, then handed him a folder containing a map, still currently invisible. He then looked to Malavera and yelled, “Mal, we need radio for this team!”

Malavera grimaced. “You don’t have to yell, Rukari,” Malavera grumbled, grabbing a radio off of the stack and handing it to Tim. “If the two of you need some help installing that, ask for Kaylie. She’s the one with the chrome left hand. I’d help, but my hands are too damn big, and, well, to be honest, I don’t want to break anything in your car. I come from a world with much higher gravity,” Malavera said.


@Elizipeazie

RK Series Racing; Pre-Race Camp; Part 3

Tim: “Thanks! We’ll head right on over since we don’t have proper equipment for electrical work…”

The group of three head over a few feet to Kaylie, who wasn’t hard to make out given the immense glare coming off the chrome arm in the Nevada sunlight…

Tim: [to Kaylie] “Err… it was said that you could help with wiring that thing up?”


@Madrias
imma leave this here for now. we might wanna plan the upcoming RP a bit more closely.

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Team Mravolinski-Chitco

Team info: 2022 Shitbox Rally - Out of This World! (Entries Closed!) - #30 by MrdjaNikolen

As in almost any previous instance, this is reply to last part

Tow training with scent of dog piss

Chicota once again noted someone getting in middle of camp, hoping this will be more useful than previous occassion.
It was, indeed.
You can imagine that Chicota took advantage of sugar+tea+rum mix that was offered. Rukari had offered nice piece of advice on rum quality, although Chicota doesnt carry black powder.

Pi had also listened to what Malavera had to say, even tho she doesnt understand English.
Dont worry, she got it all translated by either me or Chicota-not really sure, doesnt matter in greater scheme of things.
She was excited about the fact she could engage in conversation with rest of camp due to rings.

Ofc she decided to see if this ring effectively serves as ultimate translation device by engaging in kinda conversation with…interestingly enough, Rukari.

“I can now talk to everyone here. I can now understand everything you lot say.”
Beast decided to demonstrate vast amount of languages he knows, out of which Pi can probably understand few due to ring and exactly none without.
Decided to leave some Crugandr language as last, so she could understand him in the end.
But sure, its nice being bilingual for first time in her life.

Chicota and dogs would be able to find some scientific sense in new addition to their outfits.
But they realized for first time that science doesnt necessarily apply to its fullest.
They checked the piece of paper they received and confirmed that atm its just a piece of paper
(You can prob guess that this is map given by hosts).

Also travelling to paralel universe isnt exactly big news, but the fact its controlled process turned out to be big one indeed.
Less technological advancement would also be big news, which kinda started worrying everyone.
Charging phones was dealt with, Mrdja’s music is on SD cards of his phone and his favourite mobile game can indeed work offline

VerBanka was also preparing for getting in new world.

It was decided that Pi could train a little bit about towing the vehicle, so after attaching some straps for her to use, she begun.
She needed to use quite a lot of strength to overcome inertia or even required the vehicle to not be in complete standstill.

Klimentol was behind the wheel, adjusting direction of vehicle to make sure it follows Pi and wouldnt accidentally crash into something or someone.
Aydar was very close to car, doing something, but seemed innocent enough.
Everyone they passed seemed to be first kinda taken aback with tower, but were smiling when attention would shift back to car, some doing full-on laughing.
Klimentol havent really understood reasoning for this strange behaviour and would investigate.

Aydar had parted ways with car tad bit before car returns in front of tent.

“YOU M%%%N, SUCH A%%HOLE!!!
I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE, PREFERABLY COLD!”

Yes, Klimentol finally noted that on front doors of vehicle was written:
^
||
||
IM
A
D%%K

Aydar had sprayed door with urine, then applied some sand to make out the lettering.
Klimentol decided to use closest equivalent to hose he had to spray down the sand and some of liquid he used also entered the cabin.

This was personal and next step was ofc to find the culprit who was very aware of being hunted down.
Klimentol had eventually found Aydar and ripped wonderful arc of liquid that would be directed at Aydar’s head.
Long-range encounter was in works and both of them demonstrated their skills in hosing down stuff on relative distance.

“Such childish behaviour”
"Well, you had BRILLIANT idea of spraying me down with urine. I needed to return the favour.
“You started with sand note on door”
“Cmon you gotta have some fun”
Needless to say, they did returned to normal terms afterwards…Shame we couldnt say same for smell that reeked of battle they waged.

Aware of that, they decided to try and find Rufus Willow-Wright from Wayfarers, preferably doing very specific activity.
Sure enough, Rufus was indeed cleaning himself.
After they watched him for few minutes, they went back to do the same, knowing this is not very pleasant but only way to kinda avoid smelling like piss.

Pi decides this is perfect time to notify them of some checks they need to do, more precisely if checking her and potentially repairing whatever kind of damage she happen to have.
Cleaning left for later, they ended up checking out our weirdest member’s health state.

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Team Shift Happens

Team Information

Previous Chapters:
The Plan / Getting the Truck / The Email
A Trick and a Wager / I Hate Scorpions!
Let’s Get This Party Started / First Arrivals - Starting Party 6 AM
Making Friends? - Starting Party 7 AM
A Moment in Time - Starting Party 7:30 AM
Another Team Arrives / War Songs in the Camp - Starting Party 8 AM
A Grand Reveal / An Army of Soda Cans - Starting Party 8:30 AM
Drivers’ Meeting - Starting Party 9 AM
A Request for Help - Starting Party 9:15 AM



Shitbox Rally Starting Party, 9:30 AM Local Time

(Partly written by @Elizipeazie)

Kaylie set down her copy of Carburetors for Dummies as Tim called out to her, asking if she could help wire up the CB radio. “Of course. Let’s see, you guys are the ones with the Dione, right?”

When Tim nodded, Kaylie smiled. She took the boxed CB radio from him, opening it up and making sure everything was there before heading over to the Dione.

Tim: “Might as well ask since it’s not our equipment and breaking trying to get it in would be a dick move in my opinion.”

The other two are just stood there for now, Constantin contemplating why he even went to join a one man job as the third guy in tow, and Connor generically idling about.

Kaylie nodded. “Yeah, Mal wouldn’t be too happy if someone broke one of the radios trying to install it. I mean, he’s a good person, but, well, between you and me, he really doesn’t know his own strength.”

As she approached the Dione, she saw Constantin nearby, looking like he was lost in thought, and Connor standing next to the car so perfectly still that it was almost eerie. “You didn’t mention you had an android,” Kaylie said, looking at Tim for a moment, then back to Connor. Almost immediately, she spotted the crack in his right forearm. “With battle damage, as well. Bet you’ve seen some stuff,” Kaylie said to Connor, setting the CB radio box on the roof.

“So, once I’ve finished putting this radio in, you want me to see if there’s anything I can do for him? I’ve got spare parts for a Nemean-class combat-grade prosthetic, and I used to fix starships before my brother got us stranded out here,” Kaylie replied, opening the passenger side door of the Dione and climbing inside, grabbing the box off of the roof with her natural right hand.

Tim: “Yeah… Battle damage… definitly not a rage fit from a team member of a past race.”

Redwood remembered what was going on at the dealership lot back then. Connor’s unintentional sassiness made Tonsom lash out against him, landing a good hit against said arm in the process. The mentioning of an android also throws Constantin off-line, now scanning Connor top-to-bottom as well.

Constantin: “Jeez… AI has gone along much faster than i was aware of.”
Connor: “Restoring dexterity to the affected componentry would certainly help. Although compatible spare parts are not readily available, as i am part a pre-production trial-series.”

Connor calmly remarks, not exactly confident in getting any meaningful repairs done.

Kaylie chuckled as Connor mentioned that compatible spare parts weren’t readily available, holding up her own left hand. “Prototype. I understand the lack of spare parts. I’m sure we’ll manage to work something out,” Kaylie said, before using her left hand’s titanium claws to strip some insulation off of a ground wire so she could hook up the radio. “This is where things get to be a bit fun, and I do mean that in the sarcastic way,” Kaylie said, perching the CB radio on top of the dashboard as she grabbed a rubber glove and pulled it on over her left hand. “Found out the hard way back in the Lair that these fuckers have a grounded case, so when I grabbed the radio and tried to hook up the power lead, well… Let’s just say that the Bricksley over there got both of its batteries replaced after that little mishap.”

Now properly protected against accidentally shorting out the Dione’s electrical system, Kaylie stripped back a power lead, wired it into the radio, hooked up the car’s original radio antenna as the CB antenna, and then slid the unit into the dashboard where the factory radio once went. “There we go, that should be everything for the car.”

Kaylie got out of the passenger seat and looked at Connor’s arm. “So, what’s your current range of movement, and how limited is your strength with that arm?”

Constantin and Tim watch Kaylie with great interest, as she more or less is doing what Tim would have though of as well, only sort-of listening to what she is rambling on about.
Connor just goes though his diagnostics and speaks the results aloud, adding missing info as needed.

Connor: “Right Shoulder. Full mobility at 78% power. Right Elbow. Full mobility at zero power. Right Wrist. Limited mobility at zero power. Right hand. Full mobility at zero power. The latter three based on visual inspection as the affected component does not post correctly.”
Tim: “Well i never heard of that one being a thing…”
Constantin: “Spoken self diagnostics that actually work, compared to the crappy troubleshooter of WinDope 10… Neat.”

Valentin does notice and watches what is happening from “afar” (that is; 10 to 15 feet away from the car), avoiding direct contact out of fear.

Kaylie listened to Connor’s diagnostics, nodding slightly as she mentally processed each bit of it. “Most people I know wouldn’t run a component that couldn’t pass a power-on-self-test. So, you have full mobility, but no strength,” Kaylie said after thinking for a few moments.

She popped one of the covers off of her left arm, showing the high-torque electric linear actuators and fiber-optic sensor cables within, glowing faintly with sensor data moving at the speed of light. “Anything seem familiar, or are we working with two radically different kinds of technology here?” Kaylie asked.

Before Connor could really give an answer, Kaylie yelled out to her brother, Kayden, “Hey, Kay, get me the black duffel bag from inside the cab!”

Once Kayden had dropped off the bag and returned to his spot behind the charcoal grill, Kaylie opened it up and started removing items. “I brought the whole spare right arm in case I broke anything,” she said, stopping long enough to put the cover back in place on her left arm, "but I also brought supplies to fix Kayden’s powered armor. These are all external, designed to respond to an input and provide powered response. Between some nanotech armor panels, a few Nemean-class linear actuators, and an external interface device, we might be able to give you a slim-fitting powered exo-frame. Takes your low-torque, high-mobility and amplifies it.”

Upon gaining visibility into Kaylie’s arm, Both Tim and Constantin stare at it in awe, despite not having a clue as to what is in there and how it works. Even Valentin manages to get an, albeit crude, glimpse of the inner workings, which distracts him enough to make him ease up significantly.
Connor also takes a peek inside, taking note of the componentry, which doesn’t seem all too similar to what is used in his own construction.

Connor: “I am not exactly certain what you intend to do.”

He explains, taking the liberty of detaching his own, broken arm elbow-down with aid of the intact one by means of a sort-of quick-release system. On either stump, a set of hoses containing curious blue-ish liquid, some more basic looking connectors, as well as the clamp mechanism holding it in place is revealed. The arm itself turns a semi-glossy white upon removal and is almost fully covered in rather thin plating of that color. He then holds said arm up to Kaylie, as if trying to hand it to her.

Connor: “Maybe this helps in further diagnostics.”

Kaylie took Connor’s right arm in her own right hand, studying it closely. “Hydraulics?” she said, noting the quick-disconnect connectors. “Is it a fluid leak that’s causing your trouble? Because if that’s the case, I can get some hydraulic hoses and make a patch.” Still holding Connor’s disconnected right arm, Kaylie reached into the bag and removed a few pieces of powered armor frame, adjusting the sliding frame to the length of Connor’s forearm. “I mean, I can probably make this plan work, but it’s going to look like someone put you in an elbow brace.”

Kaylie grabbed a few more pieces, setting Connor’s arm on top of the Dione’s roof for a moment as she assembled the bare minimum of the armor frame to provide powered assistance to someone’s right arm, grabbed the control module and plugged it in, and made a few more mild adjustments to the frame she’d set up for Connor. She grabbed another set of spares and built the same frame up around her right arm, plugged a module in, then pulled on the armored glove which was a bit too big for her hand. After turning the module on, she ran it through her full range of motion, then said, “It’s like an exoskeleton. You provide a little movement, this does all the work.”

Kaylie turned off the module, then put the second spare armor frame back in the bag before handing Connor his arm back. “If that fluid’s particularly exotic, I don’t think I can just patch it, but using the armor frame, maybe you’ll have some strength.”

Connor intently watches Kaylie fiddling around with both his own arm and hers.

Connor: “I can confirm that the cause is not a leak in the circulatory system. The flu…”

Tim, in an attempt to be helpful, tries to word what Connor would have said in a way that would be more easily understood by humans. Or… whatever Kaylie was.

Tim: “As far as i know that line is part of what the bloodstream is for humans.”
Connor: “Accurate enough… A mechanical damage limiting signal transmission and bandwidth is the most probable cause.”

Connor takes that arm from the roof and puts it back where it belongs. The arm itself posts correctly as being the arm, though as described earlier, power supply for movement seems to be impaired.

Kaylie nodded. “Right, the fluid is important, but it’s not leaking,” Kaylie said, as Tim and Connor explained their parts of it. “I’ve seen you move it somewhat, so that’s a good sign that what I had in mind might just work.”

Kaylie continued making adjustments, occasionally stopping long enough to get a measurement of Connor’s upper arm before eventually getting things just right. "Okay, this goes on over your arm and all the way up to your shoulder, " Kaylie said, helping Connor put the armor frame on, making sure the elbow was aligned with Connor’s elbow to avoid any, as Kayden would often call them, ‘training injuries.’ Once the frame was in place, Kaylie connected the module and secured it up by Connor’s shoulder.

“Now, I’m going to turn this on. Be careful, the sensitivity can take a little getting used to,” Kaylie said. She turned the power on and stepped back out of arm’s reach just in case, remembering her first moments with the Nemean arm and how she’d nearly wrecked the medical bay when she got out of the hospital bed.

Connor mostly just lets the mounting process happen, not fighting it but also not doing much in aiding it. Once done, he awaits the device being turned on and for Kaylie to be clear of arms reach. After that, he cycles the signal which controls elbow movement. In a state of mild shock, he discovers that, while he already turned down signal power in anticipation, the module seems to expect the rather weak signal coming off of Humanoids. As such, the device goes from fully stretched out to maximum angle in what seems like an instant, imparting substantial momentum onto the remainder of Connor in the process. In reaction, all the others take a step back, being scared off by the unexpected movement speed.

Connor has to dial the signal strength down drastically to achieve a degree of control similar to what he is expecting. He then creates a system device tag flagging the module as an auxiliary Elbow actuator.
Soon after, movements seem to look harmless, if a bit rough on the fine end.

Kaylie chuckled. “You’ll get used to it,” Kaylie said, before grabbing the same armored glove she’d shown off before, removing the armor and taking care as she adjusted it to fit Connor’s hand and fingers. “This will give you some strength back in your hand, and give you back some grip strength. Before I plug these in, you’ll want to turn whatever signals you use down, because while there are hard end-stops, I don’t know if your range of motion and mine are exactly the same.”

Kaylie waited a moment for Connor to make his adjustments, then fitted the frame of the glove to the end of the armor frame before connecting the power and signal lines. This time, she didn’t stand back, instead watching to see if Connor had the full use of his hand.

“So, I learned this trick to test if I had full control of my left hand,” Kaylie said, fishing out a golden coin from her pocket, tossing it over to her left hand, and casually rolling it across her knuckles, the coin clinking against her chrome-plated titanium fingers. “Kayden taught me how to do it, took me two weeks to be able to do this. Twin Suns be damned if I know how he does it with his armor on,” Kaylie said, rolling the coin back over to her left thumb, which she snapped out to flick the coin back over to her right hand, where she then put it away.

Connor once again just held still as Kaylie made the glove fit as well as possible. In the process, he also followed instructions and preemptively dialed signal power waaay down to avoid damaging the hardware.

As Kaylie was pulling out a coin and started fiddling around with it, Connor knew exactly what she was doing. He normally used a very similar method as a means of calibration and preparation for the upcoming mission. But since his own coin was part of his original attire, that too was lost in preparation for the 24 hour clunker run. As such, he simply cycles the various fingers and the wrist do see where the limits of motion are. Tim also knew what Kaylie was on about:

Tim: “You can do Connor’s coin trickery as well?”

He excitedly asks as he fumbles around in his pockets to pull out a 2014 minted quarter-dollar coin, which is handed to Connor, expecting another amazing set of coin trickery. Connor accepts the coin and starts on the known left hand, performing very similar movements Kaylie just did, up until he attempts to fling it over to the right hand. However, Connor fails to catch the coin as it slides through a gap between the index and middle finger caused by the mismatch in hand size. He then goes off to collect the coin and hands it back to a rather disappointed Tim.

“Kayden taught me because he said it was good for making sure my new hand was working correctly,” Kaylie said. “Funnily enough, I can do that better left handed than I can right handed.”

When Tim handed Connor a quarter and Connor rolled it across the knuckles of his left hand, Kaylie smiled. As he tried to toss it over to his right hand, and it fell between the gaps, leaving Tim disappointed, however, Kaylie just shook her head, pulled out the Tigrilan Crown coin she’d messed with earlier, and handed that to Connor instead. “They’re a little bit thicker, a little larger,” Kaylie said. She smiled, understanding that he was likely to study the coin before trying to roll it over his fingers, and that while she knew the coins had an image of one of the many Tigrilan kings on it, the date stamped in the King’s crown (in this case being 5249), and on the tail side, the denomination written in their native language as being “One Golden Crown” with an image of the Twin Suns rising over a forest, she knew that it would be knew to Connor. She also was rather aware of how much it was worth, that if the coin’s monetary value were converted through elemental gold first, that one coin was worth $160, but she didn’t really care in that moment. If it worked to help Connor adjust, in her eyes, it was a very small price to pay.

Connor, as expected, takes the coin and closely examines it. He concludes that it must me either some highly valuable movie prop or a collectors item of sorts.

Connor: “Thank you”

He quickly remarks as he holds to coin to readjust the process to the added weight and inertia of the larger Tigrilan Crown. Then, he restarts the process on the left, again without much in the way of difficulty. The coin zipps over to the right and manages to stay there, although the catch still was rather sloppy by Connor near-perfect standards. The knuckle-rolling was also much slower on the right than on the left, indicating lack of training with the newly installed movement aid. The still stiff native wrist joint may also play a part. Tim and Constantin are stood there, smiling in delight at the fact that Kaylie managed to, at least sort of, fix Connor’s woes. Valentin meanwhile lost interest and is digging about the trunk, cleaning up some wiring visually and playing some Tetris with whatever is back there to conserve space.
Once done with the procedure, which has taken a little more than a minute rather than 20 seconds, he holds up an open palm containing Kaylies coin.

Connor: “I appreciate your assistance in restoring partial mobility.”
Tim: “Absolutely! Thanks a lot for helping!!”

Constantin nods in a respectful manner, also showing his appreciation for the work done.

“Not a problem,” Kaylie said, picking up the heavy duffel bag with her left hand, slinging the strap up onto her metal shoulder. “Keep the coin, I have plenty of them. I mean, I could go bother Malavera if you want a Galactic Standard Credit, but they’re about the same size, and annoyingly, they’re not round. Eleven-sided coins,” she added. “If you guys need my help in the Rally, let me know. I’m getting better at fixing internal combustion engines.”

Kaylie wandered back over to the Bricksley, propping herself back up on the tailgate and going back to her book, which was going into detail about vacuum secondaries.

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Machinas Con Passione’s Shitbox Adventures, Part 2 - At Least We Don’t Have to Shit in a Box.

Shitbox Rally Starting Party - 10:AM Local Time.
Machinas Con Passione. It’s a marque known for many things. Things such as a flagrant disregard for any standard of common sense, and for Giacomo forgetting things that anybody with a half functioning brain should have thought of. For example? Giacomo had packed exactly no food provisions. It was this lack of food provisions that led to the current predicament that Giacomo found himself in, a munity.

“Okay, so let me get this straight. The NICK JONAS CASSETE RIP was put on a higher priority than FOOD AND BASIC NECESSITIES?”
It seemed that Maria had checked the provisions to see that they were, put nicely, kind of stupid.

“I’m more amazed you got her to talk in the first place. She doesn’t say much other than “ZZZ” back at the clinic.” Dover remarked. Seems like he wasn’t terribly bothered by the prospect of eating dirt for the next few weeks.

“Honestly, I can’t tell between me and Giacomo who the bigger clown is. Sure, he’s… Um. Giacomo. But I agreed to this crap. I used to drive for Hyundai’s factory team man!” Thibault, meanwhile, was in the middle of an existential crisis.

“I think you guys are overlooking the great opportunity we have here.” McChad, cool as ever, proceeded to plunge his hand into the sand, and dug up a few beetles for a snack. Upon witnessing this, Maria began to regret being born in the first place.

“Ok. Alright. So maybe we make a few mistakes in preparing. We should look on the bright side! We have a Mustang pulling us!” Giacomo, ever the people person, tried to rally his crew together by looking on the bright side. And, all things considered, Mustang engines are pretty cool. Everyone loves a good V8, right?
McChad meandered over to the engine, popped the hood, and gave the engine a once-over.

“Giacomo. This is the V6. Nobody likes a V6 Mustang. It’s like if you had ice cream but without the cream.” And alas, Giacomo’s last thread of goodwill was eradicated.
Maria pulled Dr. Dover to the side.
M: “Look. I know we need to lay low for a bit, but I think I would prefer whatever murder methods the mob has planned for us, than to spend an entire rally with… that guy.

As she pointed him out, Giacomo had already begun harassing other teams for their food supply, while Thibault followed his nose to Team Slow’s Hot Dog barbeque.
Dr. Dover, however, had resigned himself to his fate a long time ago, and was noticeably mentally checked out.

D: “Look. It’s not so bad right? I mean, we get a free vacation. That’s pretty rad!”
M: “No, seriously, I would prefer to be waterboarded. I’m about to steal the van and get the hell outta here.”
D: "Waterboarded? You think there’s any water around here? Cause if there is, waterboarding is pretty low on my list of priorities, but, y’know, you do you I guess.
Alas, Maria realized she may be the only person on this team with an IQ higher than 1.

M: “You know what, forget it. I can catch a whiff of some pot from here. I’m gonna try to get high off of the secondhand smoke.”
D: “Oh please, I have better stuff than mere pot. I’m Benjamin Dover, M.D!”
M: “Like?”
D: “Eh… Only Morphine. I feel like getting high on all of it without at least being in a life threatening situation would be a waste. You go on and try to get high.”

And so, Machinas Con Passione have split up! You’d think they would have done this before going on the multiple hour long road trip to the middle of nowhere. Oh well. They’re going to make up before the rally starts anyway.

Part 2 - Fin

Oh my! The definitely not overly exploited trope of the main characters splitting up before something important happens in the plot! How horrific!

Anyway, if somebody has the patience to want to interact with the only team with a collective iq of 40, consider the green flag waved, it’d be pretty fun for me to see how MCP would interact with other teams.

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Damn, I missed that you used a V6, speaking of 90s Mustangs and briefly looking at a V engine of course made me presume a 4.6…have to change my RP I guess, LOL

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I actually meant to go into further detail about the engine that I used. I used the Ford Essex V6 as a base, but completely forgor :skull: to even bring that up while I was describing the engine since I was in a rush, and didn’t realize until after the fact that I’d forgotten to elaborate on it. Either way, it helps prove the point that V8s and Mustangs are made for each other lol

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More that I could not see why anyone would bother with a V6 swap, haha, but I guess I should have looked more closely at the headers.

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Team Mravolinski-Chitco

Team info: 2022 Shitbox Rally - Out of This World! (Entries Closed!) - #30 by MrdjaNikolen

This is reply to last part

MCP meetup

Good news everyone
Pi is checked and our doctors (which still smell like piss bcos of fight in last part; good thing my nose isnt too sensitive) concluded she is in solid condition…for now atleast.

We are staying idle at the moment, but something attracted our attention.

Seems one of our new friends, kind of ones we havent interacted yet, was going around and seemed to need something.
Naturally, Pi was interested to check, but seemed that he was heading our way anyway.

Someone from one of late-arrived teams had indeed closed distance.
Not too much tho, as he saw two very big dogs and Pi, which are scary and downright disgusting from his view.

VerBanka had asked, since she is best looking individual by long shot (ok ok, that and fact she is least intimidating) and got answer that he was looking for food for his team.

Pi, disgusting-looking being she is, approached.
“We havent seen you before. Therefore, offer. We can give out some biscuits we have and you show us your team.
I just want to talk to more ppl.”

Person who introduced himself as Giacomo, wasnt amused by this thing…at all.

Mrdja had decided that he too might be interested in checking out other team.

Decision was made that we would like to move in a car and park beside white van he pointed at as their vehicle.
Problem had been revealed

  • Someone decided that moving a car might waste some precious fuel
    Pi had found a solution in getting straps, strapping her to front of car and she could d

At some point, Prosper had returned to rest of team just to witness some botched up human (?) pulling a dark blue pickup with equally botched up camper extension.
To his likely horror, creature was pulling in their direction, until it fell down.
Some big dogs had appeared from behind, unlatching the creature and one of them took over temporarely, stopped when rear of car was about level with creature, then yeeted creature in the back with absolutely no regards for its safety.

Finally the car stopped beside theirs and few unknown figures had exited it.

“We are team Mravolinski-Chitco. Returning one of your members and decided to get to know your team.
Also decided to give you some biscuits we happened to carry. Aint much, but technically qualifies as food.”
Klimentol, STILL SMELLING LIKE PISS, really gave out solid impression.

McCool thought this might be good chance to check out what competition brings to the place.
He likely expected some big V8 under hood with lot of displacement and power, was warned that reality can be dissapointing, still asked to see the motor.
Reality was very dissapointing and thats putting it lightly.

Mr. Prospect would easily deduce this might be far from fastest competitor anyway.

“I think i havent destroyed my legs entirely!”

“Oh my, you dare to think? Try getting yourself here.”

Pi exited the back, trembling.
“I feel im not in solid condition anymore. Anyway, it was my idea for getting here, so i may as well decide to go all the way.
Im sure you have some questions.
I would appreciate if you decide to listen, despite my looks and admitedly smarts.
Im aware of obvious questions and would answer them right away”

Dogs growled to each other when question about their smell was brought up in all languages avaiable to them now, including ones avaiable via rings.

Dr. Dover was interested in this strange creature for exactly the reason of her looks, while his assistant wasnt keen to exit the vehicle.

Mrdja: "We have met two Marias so far. Seems thats probably most popular name. I also know few…females with such name: My classmate from primary school that nears 24y old just like me and some 9y old girl from family both bear this name, although spelled Marija (and said like in English).
Oh, i knew some granma with that name too. She passed away tho.

Edit: Oh, @SurrealCereal if you wish to expand on this from point of view of your characters feel free to do so.

Team they encountered here is assembled of few normal-looking people (tallest one of these is robot but i feel that wasnt indicated in here)
We have few big dogs that smell like they were pissed on recently.
And Pi is likely Giacomo’s least favourite bcos of her strange build and botched up looks.

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Team Shift Happens

Team Information

Previous Chapters:

Event Planning

The Plan / Getting the Truck / The Email
A Trick and a Wager / I Hate Scorpions!

Let’s Get This Party Started / First Arrivals - Starting Party 6 AM
Making Friends? - Starting Party 7 AM
A Moment in Time - Starting Party 7:30 AM
Another Team Arrives / War Songs in the Camp - Starting Party 8 AM
A Grand Reveal / An Army of Soda Cans - Starting Party 8:30 AM
Drivers’ Meeting - Starting Party 9 AM
A Request for Help - Starting Party 9:15 AM
A Helping Hand - Starting Party 9:30 AM



Shitbox Rally Starting Party - 12:00 Noon Local Time


“It’s time, everyone,” Kaylie said, raising her voice above the music to get everyone’s attention.

Rukari stood up along with Kivenaal, the two of them quickly assembling their makeshift plastic mirror. “This will only be a brief look into Crugandr,” Rukari warned, grabbing one of Kivenaal’s right hands, focusing intensely on his magic, and placing his other hand on the plastic.

Immediately, a ripple shot through the plastic, like a stone thrown in a calm pond, before the whole sheet fogged up like a bathroom mirror. As the fog faded, the mirror no longer reflected the desert back at them, but instead showed all of them a glimpse into Jaduvira, one of the major port cities of Crugandr. To the right, there were the docks with sailing ships anchored there, flags waving in a gentle breeze. To the left, a giant iguana pulled a carriage down a cobblestone road, In the distance, a steam locomotive sat there, gently fuming from the funnel as the bright green paint gleamed in the sun, several coaches settled behind it, just waiting to be pulled away. Then, just as the mirror started to fog up, they could see someone approaching rapidly, every left step ringing out with a metallic clink against the cobblestone road, staff in hand, black robe swirling around him. This lion-man had a vicious looking scar on his face that crossed over his right eye, with dark brown fur and a heavy black mane, as well as his fairly obvious magical prosthetic leg made of a blackened, treated steel with brass plating and dark walnut accents. He saw an opportunity and dove through the mirror, rolling out across the dirt on the other side just before the fog filled the frame and the mirror closed.

“Well, that was more excitement than I’d expected,” the lion said, panting heavily. “Name’s Jayde Malradi.” As he stood up and brushed the dirt off of his robe, it became quite obvious that he was quite tall and rather well-built, especially for someone with wizard robes on. Clearing 8 feet, 5 inches in height, and weighing nearly 400 pounds in mostly muscle, he was definitely anything but small, and his black robes gave him a slightly-menacing appearance at a glance.

“Well, Jayde, that was a damned impressive entrance,” Kaylie said, crossing her arms, “but we’ll need to know why you were running like you antagonized a fortress of soldiers and had them running after you.”

“I kicked a hole in a nest of bees!” Jayde grumbled. “Thought the stump would be a good place to sit while I read through another book of spells, kicked it to make sure it wasn’t rotten, and instead kicked a hole in it. Then the bees came pouring out of that hole. I hate getting stung, so I ran.”

“So, you’re not in trouble, then?” Kayden asked.

“No. I saw an open mirror and I know bees don’t like going through mirrors, so I took a chance. So, where in the Name of the Rift am I?”

“Nevada, the United States of America. A quaint little bit of nowhere called the Mojave Desert,” Malavera said.

“Wait… That’s not in Aetherii, is it?” Jayde asked. When Rukari shook his head, Jayde groaned. “Great. This is why you don’t run through random portals, Jayde, because you’ll end up somewhere weird,” he grumbled to himself. That’s about the time he noticed the cars. “Weirdest carriages I’ve ever seen.”

“They pull themselves,” Kaylie said proudly.

“You should come with us. It’s not safe for you wander around here in that,” Rukari said, motioning to Jayde’s wizard robe.

“Says the Valraadi in black leather armor and a giant purple cloak,” Jayde countered. “Though the stripes seem familiar. I knew a Murlocke Khakrin-Barukh, had stripes that looked almost exactly the same.”

“He is my Xelthien,” Rukari replied proudly.

“Right, so your father is Murlocke, the Chosen of Yawli, your goddess of justice and war. What’s your name?”

“Rukari Khakrin-Veldrothan,” Rukari replied.

Jayde stood there for a few seconds, his brain only now putting together all the information. “How in the Name of the Rift does Valraadi royalty end up all the way out here?!” Jayde practically shouted.

“I walked Nelehnraad,” Rukari mentioned, giving a light smile.

Jayde groaned. “Looks like I’m coming with you guys, then, on your adventure.” He looked over and saw Kivenaal standing there, two tails twitching idly as he smirked, seeing Jayde’s realization that he was going to join them on this run. “What’s so funny?” Jayde asked.

“Not much,” Kivenaal said. “First time I’ve seen someone actually recognize Rukari as being the son of the Empress. Usually he has to tell people that.”

“So, who are you, then?” Jayde asked.

“Kivenaal Khakrin-Marinseien. I’m… Not from your time,” Kivenaal replied.

“Meaning?” Jayde inquired.

“Where you are from near the beginning, before the Second War, I come from near the end, days before the Fall. Same world, thousands of years apart,” Kivenaal admitted.

Jayde stared at Kivenaal for a few long minutes. “That’s… I’d say impossible, but then again, I jumped through a mirror into another world. The amount of magic it would take… The age you’d have to be… I lost five years to a forbidden time spell to redo events of the past, aged ten years in total.”

“Yes, and Rukari comes from after the Second War of Magic, but knowing him didn’t make you think maybe, just maybe, you went backward in time?” Kivenaal asked.

“I didn’t know this was possible,” Jayde admitted. “So, how is all of this going to work, then?

Kaylie smiled and showed the rather tall Leoni over to the Bricksley. “You get the middle seat in the rear bench. That’s because this seat with all the techno-trash over it is mine, and that side is Kayden’s seat because he’ll complain if he doesn’t get a window seat. You’ve met Kivenaal, the Valraadi with four arms, he sits in the passenger seat most times, but he knows how to drive, too. Rukari’s the other driver. Malavera’s the two-headed wolf who told you where you ended up, and he’s here as another navigator and driver, though he’s going to howl when he finds out he’s going to have to sit mid-front-bench. It’s going to suck for him having to not mess with the gear levers.”

“So, will the five of you be needing any magical assistance?” Jayde asked.

“Probably. What can you do?” Kaylie inquired.

“Well, I studied for 8 years at Tendragon Academy in basic magic, so I can do field repairs of most things, I know some combat magic, I can open the Rift and open mirrors, and I know a handful of utility spells. I also trained under a Vipiri Storm-Rattler in weather magic, so I can manipulate the weather, but she really focused on my ability to throw lightning. I completed my ten years at Tendragon Academy afterward, and also studied at Kamwerth Academy of the Arcane in Crugandr,” Jayde explained. “Also, I suppose I do know a few healing spells, though nothing particularly powerful.”

“If I might ask, how’d you lose the leg?” Kaylie asked.

“I fought in the battle of Aray Bay. Big airship battle over the Mirror Gallery. Technically, I was there twice. First time, I got hit by a bit of steam pipe shrapnel,” Jayde said, motioning to the scar on his face, “and two chunks of wood in my leg. A handle from the ship’s wheel, and a piece of propeller. Passed out on the deck, woke up with most of my leg gone. Spent the next half a year learning how to walk again with an enchanted left leg. The second time, thanks to some time travel magic, I was able to prevent any further injury to my other self by throwing a jar of sentient fire into the other airship. Now, how did you lose your arm?”

Kaylie grimaced, though it was a fair question. “My brothers were having a mock battle in space, Jaden accidentally had the weapons turned on, hit Malavera’s ship with a stray shot, and let a bit of the air out of his station. I got caught in a fast-closing bulkhead door and it, well, practically amputated it for me. Jaden, the smaller of my two brothers despite being older, was working on something he called ‘Project Nemean,’ some sort of combat-ready drone or maybe it was always meant to be a limb replacement, but because of my size, I matched a normal male Leoni enough to fit the arm. And yes, it’s a bitch dealing with my left arm being just a bit bigger than my right, but I’ve managed. Though, I have to say, you’re easily the biggest Leoni I’ve seen.”

Jayde gave a grim chuckle and said, “There’s a reason for that, and let’s just say I didn’t enjoy it at all.” This close to him, Kaylie could see that Jayde’s robe was not actually fabric, but was instead some form of leather.

“What is that made from?” she asked.

“Dragon hide. Thin, strong, relatively light. Stupidly expensive, but it’s saved my life a few times,” Jayde admitted. He reached up to get a better look at Kaylie’s radio stack, only for her to grab his hand in her left hand and firmly push it away from the dials and switches.

“Please don’t,” Kaylie said. “I know, it’s instinct to find out how something works by messing with it, but some of these controls could get our little group in a lot of trouble if you flip the wrong switch.”

“Ah. Some things your guards won’t appreciate, then, in the box of magic,” Jayde replied.

“About the best way to think of it. Right, let’s get you back out there, I know this truck is a bit warm, and we can’t run the air conditioning without the engine on, so better to not be sitting inside it,” Kaylie said. She got out of the truck and took the opportunity to see just how well Jayde got around with his mechanical leg. To her surprise, it was amazingly close to what she suspected he could have done before losing the limb, and that this seemingly-crude (by her standards, at least) black metal and brass leg might actually be better for Jayde than her left arm was for her.

Kayden chuckled as he saw Jayde and Kaylie together. He knew his sister had a thing for Leoni in general, and now they had Jayde on their team, one of the biggest Leoni he’d ever seen, if not actually the biggest. He got up, grabbed the cooler from the back of the truck, then said, “Team Shift Happens, get your asses over here so we can get some steaks done for lunch!”

Soon, six thick, juicy steaks were done, with Malavera graciously giving one of his up to Jayde so he could have something to eat as well. Jayde was surprised that even with such advanced technology as the cars, they still used fire to cook meat, though he wasn’t going to complain as he bit into the smoky grilled steak. Kaylie managed to bend another steak knife with her left hand before resorting to using her titanium claws to cut bites of meat. Kivenaal and Rukari were practically ravenous after opening the mirror, and their steaks vanished quickly. Malavera ate slowly, enjoying his meal, the last steak he’d have on Earth for a while. Kayden enjoyed his steak as well, just glad that they had an opportunity to share a meal as a team before the event really got started.



(OOC: So, I’ve had a question or two regarding how we’re going to get to Crugandr. We’ve just seen how mirrors work, being instant transportation from one point to the other, though to open a mirror across such a distance is incredibly energy-consuming. To save energy, we will open a doorway to the Rift when the time comes, which will serve as Stage 0. We’ll be traveling as a convoy, so everyone gets the same time, but I haven’t decided yet (by coin flip) whether we get a short or a long trip. This journey will take several hours for us. If someone had faster-than-light communications both on Earth and in Crugandr, however, it would appear to them as if our journey was instant. If you’ve played Minecraft, think of Rift-Walking as being a non-dangerous version of the Nether. Travel a certain distance there, travel a greater distance in the overworld. Same thing, bigger scale, non-linear time and distance requirements.)

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Team Mravolinski-Chitco

Team info: 2022 Shitbox Rally - Out of This World! (Entries Closed!) - #30 by MrdjaNikolen

This is reply to last part of story.

Supply stacking
and oh my,
Witchlight is definitely packing

It becomes fairly obvious that there are two or three important things to know

  • We might want to get even more clothes for VerBanka and myself to adjust for potential very hot/very cold climate we might encounter
  • This MCP team we parked beside would most likely require lot of helping - by this point we realized good bunch of them isnt particularly bright.
  • Team Shift Happens seems to get a new member.

Oh also

  • Ye, Pi definitely needs repairs now

Order of action seems to be returning to our previous position to tent hosts placed for us, then obtaining clothing and…stuff necessary for fixing up Pi.

Some van had arrived with said supplies
Rear in incorrect color
unknown
Front
unknown-1
Side view (stats are outdated)

Which brought stuff we need
Ones that need clothing were also responsible for managing where said clothing would be, while Chicota was adding stuff to doctors while they did necessary adjustments on Pi.

This lasted for solid amount of time, but eventually, two of us had finished packing clothes
Ok, in my case, its less packing clothes and more throwing in in compartment and pushing it inside. VerBanka’s clothes that could reasonably be ironed were ironed and those were properly packed

Patient, that now received lot of adjustments, decided to head to yet another team we may saw. When we met giant lizard-man on our way to get CB radio, two of us did, in fact, look back and watch him get near some very big sedan.
This time, our car stayed on its position and we walked up to these.

Exactly this member was actually one we first encountered this time as well.
Pi and him had squared up
Klimentol: Pi, there is no need for that. (To lizard-man) Same goes for you. We intend to meet your team, not fight with you.

Other members of this Witchlight team would wait for seven of us, including their friend.

We are informed that Ambay isnt really very friendly, but, for purposes of protection of his team, he is about perfect.
Rest of talking would be done by rest anyway, rest composed of two humans and (apparently) human-like demon
(Remember, we are not aware of Kira’s fox form and to be honest, there are lot of IRL people lacking in height, so Finne also doesnt provide anything too new looks-wise here.)

Elist has presented themselves, being most likely to talk with this sextet.
Elist is also first individual we encountered who prefer gender-neutral pronouns, which took some getting used to.

This team very quickly showed that, indeed, they dont come from Earth and more importantly, arent very familiar with how stuff works around here.
Some explanations were sure to be asked for and our team was trying to give good answers to them.

They are way more capable team than MCP team they last encountered, but potential lack of preparation, mostly related to entirely stock vehicle, wasnt assuring.
Atleast car looked nice and, probably most important, Ambay can fit into it.
On remark of it being “haunted” and likely used for transporting ppl in…lets say less than ideal shape, Klimentol noted:
“Yeah, we here tend to fight with each other WAAAY too much.”
Ambay seemed to be rather amused by this particular observation, which was neat chance to explain his reasons for joining the team.
“Ye, can see how he might be useful.
Not to mention that he seems strong enough to help in pushing, lifting or pulling the vehicle if said vehicle gets stuck. Thats lot of car, but he is also lot of person.”

After some more small-talk, our team returned to our vehicle, having made some new friends of sort.

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RK Series Racing; Pre-Race Camp; Part 4

As soon as Kaylie was out of earshot, the team assembles, with Valentin returning to the remainder of the group up front. The rings are distributed and Valentin catches up on what was explained in the driver meeting. The rings are distributed among the members, with some shuffling around between the four, as the rings are unlabeled and made to fit one of them each. Some discussion about how they will spend their nights follows soon after, in which it is agreed that Tim and Valentin will sleep within the car, Connor, as always, will be “parked” in the immediate vicinity with Constantin setting up his carry-on Campsite somewhere nearby.


At about noon, it is announced that the sneak peek into the other world will be shown. All four are staring at the crude PVC pipework in cautious excitement, before said pipework displays the other end of the interdimensional Window.

Valentin: “So THAT’s where we’ll be going?”
Tim: “Sure looks like it…”
Constantin: “What is this place? The 1920s? Obnoxiously painted Steam Engines, sailing ships. Lizard-Drawn Carriages!?”
Tim: “Damn… seems like those people surely bred those fuckers to be massive.”

Similar semi-serious banter follows for another 10-ish minutes. Connor is trying to make sense of the situation, with little success, especially about their replacement for horses. Still, most of the party accepts the shown environment as-is, with each member having their own cuirosities about how their society and infrastructure works. At some point, the window closes and the host team starts talking to someone who apparently just arrived there. At that point, the team loses interest and returns to “preparing” (read: waiting and doing jackshit) for the journey. Only Constantin uses the spare time to figure out a way to use the Dione for a shelter roof mounting point.


OOC: imma leave this here and wait for the 3PM and maybe 6PM writeups

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Machinas Con Passione’s Shitbox Adventures Episode 2.5 - We’re All in This Together?

Shitbox Rally Starting Party - 10:10:10.10 AM Local Time.
During their definitely-not-overplayed trope of splitting up, Giacomo met with another, properly prepared team that was participating in the rally. Team Mravolinski-Chitco, which Giacomo initially figured was probably some kind of alien language, quietly confirmed this upon seeing the crew at work. Upon politely eating all of the biscuits offered by Klimentol, the two teams would converge at the site of the Aerodynamic Wedge-Shaped Beast.

Exchanges were had, confirmations were made, primarily that of Giacomo’s lack of preparation stretching not only to basic necessities, but to the car itself. While the Aerodynamic Wedge-Shaped Beast had been fitted with a manual locking diff, it was sorely lacking in the off road capacity, starting at the motor.

While Dr. Dover took various measurements of Pi from a degree of different angles, McCool and McChad took part in a pissing contest, no not literally, in trying to see who had the better car prepared. Needless to say, MCP came up short. While the car did come prepared with a locking Diff, it had:

  • A conventional double wishbone suspension

  • No form of AWD.

  • A dogshit engine (though McChad was kind of prepared for that one)

  • And, probably most importantly, the car hadn’t even been raised an inch. Chad should have really though about that before leaving.

And thus, It dawned on MCP once more: They may have made a small error.

Part 2.5 - Fin.

Were these genuine oversights by me? Intentional oversights meant to show the genius capacity of Machinas Con Passione? Or maybe even a tongue in cheek callback to the great RWD rally cars of the past? Who knows??? (It’s the first one but lets be honest the van stopped being a serious contender when it was designed to be a van.)

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TEAM HILLBILLY ROLLERS
PART 1.1 - Hello, Thibault and friends!

Out of pure curiousity, our friends could not resist giving team Machinas con Passiones a visit. Maybe they were not really clear on how to approach them in the most proper way, though, but were rather approaching them kind of clumsy.

ANDREAS: “HEY! Thibault Prosper! Have you joined the shitbox rally bussiness now? Well I guess that there is always a place for a retired champion I guess. Oh well, I never left the folkrace track but I hope I will be skilled enough of a driver for this.”
JANNE: “What the fuck are you guys driving? Never seen something similar!”
MARIE: “Why does it look like a Pontiac Trans sport? It is no goddamned Pontiac Trans sport, that’s for sure!”
ANDREAS: “Well, we can join each other as the van driving teams, because we are driving an IP Freeway Star…”
JANNE: “GREAT, now they will probably look at the only Freeway Star in this damn campsite…”
ANDREAS: “WELL IT LOOKED NICE UNTIL THAT BABOON PAINTED THE POS!”, he shouted, pointing at Marie.
MARIE: "Hey, it was an accident, not like I intended it to look like that, right?

@SurrealCereal

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Machinas Con Passione’s Shitbox Adventures Part 2.6 - I (Don’t) Wanna Be Famous

Shitbox Rally Starting Party - 10:40 AM Local Time

Having successfully gotten high off of the secondhand fumes coming from the Spy Kids team, Maria, in a much better mood, assembled the members of Machinas Con Passione to their van, determined to at least rally everyone together.

“Alright. So. We have to drive The Van™. We kind of don’t have a choice. Well, I mean we could ditch Giacomo, but that’s kind of mean. I don’t feel like being mean.” At this, Giacomo raised his hand to ask for permission to speak. “Permission denied. If you say something it’ll ruin my good mood. Alright, so-”

It was then that another team called out, interrupting Maria mid-speech.

“HEY! Thibault Prosper! Have you joined the shitbox rally bussiness now? Well I guess that there is always a place for a retired champion I guess. Oh well, I never left the folkrace track but I hope I will be skilled enough of a driver for this.”

Oh no.

Someone actually recognized Thibault.

Wait, that’s not really a bad thing.

Thibault turned to see who had actually recognized him, a once highly regarded rally driver, now a shitbox driver for hire, and turned to see team Hillbilly Rollers. It seemed like their driver, Andreas, had a good eye for ex Rally drivers with terrible agents. Thibault, unlike anyone else on MCP, had actually read the entry list beforehand, an old habit from his rally days, where a new driver could show up to a certain rally and complicate things exponentially. though, it wouldn’t make much of a difference here. Just as the case had been during his rally days, his equipment wouldn’t exactly be challenging for wins, though he’d come close more times then he could count.

After alot of reminiscing over just a hello, Thibault greeted his competition in time.
“Well, can’t say I thought of myself as retired, but I guess you can consider this step one of getting back in acti-”

It was then that he was interrupted yet again by the relevation that he wasn’t the only driver being force- well, he supposed he might be the only driver being roped into this in the first place, but regardless, it would seem like he wasn’t alone in driving a van. “What the fuck are you guys driving? Never seen something similar!” Exclaimed Hillbilly Roller’s Mechanic, Janne. “Why does it look like a Pontiac Trans sport? It is no goddamned Pontiac Trans sport, that’s for sure!” Their extremely skilled painter, Marie, concurred. Giacomo, with a grin on his face that was wider than the Aerodynamic Wedge Shaped Beast itself, galavanted over to the van, and, with jazz-hands in full display, presented his “masterpiece”.

“It’s the Aerodynamic Wedge-Shaped Beast! Best car on the grid!” Janne was less than impressed to say the least. On the bright side, though, at least he wouldn’t be stuck in… That. The whole rally. “Well, we can join each other as the van driving teams, because we are driving an IP Freeway Star…” Noted Andreas. Janne was less than thrilled with the attention. “GREAT, now they will probably look at the only Freeway Star in this damn campsite…”

As if on command, all of MCP glanced over to see the glorious Freeway Star, in all of it’s pink glory. “WELL IT LOOKED NICE UNTIL THAT BABOON PAINTED THE POS!”, Andreas shouted, pointing at Marie. Marie put her hands up, like she couldn’t believe that the thing that she had 100% done was being attributed to her. “Hey, it was an accident, not like I intended it to look like that, right?”

Thibault looked back at the Freeway Star, and then at the Aerodynamic Wedge-Shaped Beast. “I guess that makes us brothers in, uh, vans? We’re not really brothers in arms. I hope you don’t mind towing us every now and then because that thing” He pointed at the Aerodynamic Wedge-Shaped Beast “is probably gonna spend half the rally in a ditch. I’m sure Giacomo will irritate you… Non stop. But he pays well… Maybe that’s the only upside to this whole thing. Hehe. Heh.”

Part 2.6 - Fin

Maybe the Machines really do have passion? Who knows! I pity the fool who has to drive this particular machine anyhow.

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The Witchlight


As Finne and Elist made their way back to the Aphrodite after the driver meeting, the pair of them spotted Ambay looking around the cars parked near by, and Kira nowhere to be seen.
“El, what d’ya think Ambay’s looking for? Food, or someone to bludgeon?” Finne joked, before noticing that Elist wasn’t even paying attention to him. Elist gripped their staff, and began to move with haste around the Aphrodite towards Ambay.
“AMBAY! Get away from the fucking cars! By the gods, you’ll break something!” Elist began to shout towards the Lizardfolk. Ambay looked back over his shoulder as he approached the Orange Dione, and slid his greataxe back into the sheath on his back.
“The machines confuse me, Elist. How they work, it is very confusing to me. The consortium did not prepare me for if these foes come to life.” He looked towards Elist with a look of concern, before willingly following them back towards the EAAC.

With the driver’s meeting wrapping up, Kira locked herself inside the Aphrodite. She didn’t want to be disturbed by Finne’s awful jokes, or Elist’s constant worrying. (Or Ambay’s general presence) With the known safety of the car’s body around her, and knowing no-one is gonna look inside the Aphrodite, she shifted back to her vulpine form, and began to unpack her prayer gear onto the passenger side dashboard. A small icon of Daikitsu placed in the centre, 8 stones placed in a circle around that, then two bones, cross in front of the icon, follow. Finally, a sprinkle of some sand-like compound is placed upon the icon.
“Lady of Foxes, if you can hear me all the way out here, I ask for protection, and a blessing from you. I have never had to work upon such machines before, I hope your faith in me, and my faith in you, can give me the requisite power to fix these strange mechanical machines,” She looks up out the window, noticing Elist and Finne walking Ambay back to the Aphrodite, “and I hope you can bless us with protection from whatever those damn amurruns intend to throw at us. I worry this new plane may be above our skill set. I hope you can hear me, and I may ask for guidance before we set off in the morning.”

“Look, buddy, you can’t just go looking at these cars even when no one is around. If you break something or, Erastil forgive, someone, it’ll get us in trouble, or even thrown out. The consortium sent us here with a job, I don’t want it blown because you’re a fucking idiot.” Finne says to Ambay as they sit around the small, not-lit, campfire. Ambay looks up, away from Finne, noticing the other teams milling about, “Should we not be interacting with the other people. Connections could be helpful.” Elist gave a small chuckle, looking towards the crowd of people, and stretching out their hand.
“I mean, I can still watch others with the help of Handfull, but we all might be a bit too weird to want to talk to, especially you, king lizard.” As Elist finishes, a small raven with a funerary mask lands on their hand. “Okay Handfull, you’ve got a small job. Go watch some other teams. Don’t speak, stay hidden. You’re looking different, and really liable to scare someone if they’re not looking for you.”


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Team Shift Happens

Team Information

Previous Chapters:

Let’s Get This Party Started / First Arrivals - Starting Party 6 AM
Making Friends? - Starting Party 7 AM
A Moment in Time - Starting Party 7:30 AM
Another Team Arrives / War Songs in the Camp - Starting Party 8 AM
A Grand Reveal / An Army of Soda Cans - Starting Party 8:30 AM
Drivers’ Meeting - Starting Party 9 AM
A Request for Help - Starting Party 9:15 AM
A Helping Hand - Starting Party 9:30 AM
A Glimpse Into The Unknown - Starting Party Noon



Shitbox Rally Starting Party, 3 PM Local Time.

With 3 hours left before the opening of the portal, the air was almost supercharged with excitement. People had seen a glimpse, a flash, a hint of what they’d soon be facing. Speculation ran wild. How many days would it take? What was this other world like? How long would it take to get there?

Through it all, Rukari and Kivenaal sat there, shrugging off the questions being thrown their way. Jayde, likewise, stayed quiet, though did speak up with, “Please, do not disturb them. I do not know if the Valraadii are meditating to gather energy or if they are praying to their deities, but we do not need to invoke their wrath before this event.”

Kaylie grinned as she sat behind the radio panel in the Highwayman, dialed up the four preferred channels, one on each radio, twisted the knob to Broadcast for the microphone, and clicked the button. “Radio check!” She called out, hearing multiple radios ring out a split moment later.

Kayden was making one last batch of burgers on Earth, making sure anyone who wanted food had it. He wandered around to the rest of his team, handing everyone a burger. “Last of the burgers for Nevada,” he said, giving a light smile. He watched as Kivenaal and Rukari left their meditation long enough to wolf down their triple burgers, Malavera practically shoved the whole triple burger in one of his mouths in between keystrokes as he updated the media page one last time, Kaylie tore a hungry bite out of her double bacon burger, and Jayde tried a quadruple-stack burger for the first time.

Malavera smiled as he finished the last blog post before the Rally, letting people know that the silence was because, for better or for worse, they were going where the internet could not follow.



(OOC: This one’s short because there’s not much going on for my team leading up to 6 PM. Tomorrow (my Monday), I will be releasing the 6 PM update, as well as Stage 0 and the first Crugandr camp. Consider this as the last day to wrap up any first campsite chaos.)

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09 October, 2021 /// 10:15 AM MDT

Out in the west Texas town of El Paso, straddling the Rio Grande across which sat Ciudad Juárez, and tucked away in an arid, scorched alcove of desert pockmarked with dried flora the sun broke its cover and rose over distant mountains situated on the edge of an endless expanse of bleached sand and thorny shrubbery that crumbled at the touch. It was only a quarter past ten, but the blanket of heat was already thick, suffocating, and radiated from the cracked asphalt over which a quaternion of rubber halos rolled and bounced. The clatter of six air-cooled horizontally-opposed pistons only added to the mechanical din of the creaking suspension, rattling plastic and metal fasteners supporting various interior furnishings, and the rumbling tires hopping over roads that felt like they were last paved decades ago when they were first laid down. Despite having nearly every geographical odd stacked against it, it was as if this lonely settlement continued to exist purely out of spite.

Nearly thirty Californian summers did not treat the dark blue paint kindly. In addition to the scratches, dents and gallery of other scuffs that adorned the fenders, doors, and bumpers, the hood and roof were covered in splotches of sun-damaged fading paint, the erosion of pigments only accelerated by the even more unforgiving climate of the lone star state. The 1985 Dauer 632 S’s weary journey finally reached its conclusion in the mostly-empty parking lot of a commercial vehicle repair shop situated on the outskirts of El Paso, the hum of its all-aluminum boxer-6 engine quickly subsiding into the white noise of distant traffic and a stagnant wind of boiling heat that blew across acres of concrete and tar.

The driver’s door flung open with an agonizing creak, creating an opening from which the dry heat poured inwards and a pair of white sneakers emerged, touching on the ground. “Christ! Thirty degrees centigrade… Adelaide doesn’t get anywhere near this hot this time of the year,” Mel sighed as she slowly rose to full height, leaning back and stretching her sore back muscles. The seats wrapped in cracked brown-orange leather were heavily worn and had lost most of their bolstering, which only made the already-rough ride nearly unbearable. It seemed as if just about every single piece of the car was on its last legs. “I’ve arrived at the site."

“Die of heatstroke one day, then of frostbite the next. That’s Texas for you. Bet you’re really missing LA now,” cackled a male voice over the radio. It belonged to Alex, one of the members of Mel’s (at times such as this one, the only) operation and intelligence support group. “How’s the ride holding up?”

“Suspension bushings are starting to go, along with nearly every damn thing in this car. The motor’s been doing fine at least. Dauer boxer sixes really live up to their reputation,” Mel remarked as she closed the door behind her with a rattling thud and leaned against the front left fender, looking at the massive warehouse before her. It stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, dotted in regular intervals with rusty service doors that numbered one and nineteen more. Numerous trucks in various states of disrepair were lined along the entire width of the facility not dissimilar to an aircraft boneyard. “So how exactly did they plan to let me in? Grab the key under the doormat? Knock thrice and say please?”

“They should’ve left the first loading bay door unlocked. And don’t worry about setting off any alarms, they turned off the security system beforehand. I know it’s a little weird since they don’t have anyone onsite, since it’s… you know, a Saturday… but hey, that’s just one less thing in your way. You’ve read the brief, right?”

“Full sweep of the first and second floors, find whatever the hell is causing the ruckus.” Unholstering her Glock 17 Gen4, Mel pressed the release button and caught the magazine as it fell out, checking the cutout slot near the bottom that was obscured by a brass object. Seventeen rounds and counting, but hopefully they wouldn’t be the first she would have to discharge outside of a shooting range. “Something seems… off, though.”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“I find it odd that they were perfectly willing to let us snoop around inside without having one of their staff present to escort us. Especially in Texas of all places, yeah, nah… they don’t just call it ‘the Lone Star’ state for nothing.” Her footsteps echoed through the desolate valley of concrete and rotten pallets as she made her way towards the first door on the left. She scanned her surroundings one last time, only to find that her presence remained unacknowledged. Mel was no stranger to solitude, for she frequently found comfort in the outback and its separation from civilization. It was an escape, a form of meditation for her. This time around, however, she didn’t share the same sentiment.

“Maybe they’ve just got nothing to hide?” Alex let out a stiff sigh as the Mexican desert let out a shallow gasp of its own, blowing a tickling gust of arid wind that tossed Mel’s platinum blonde hair about her face. “You’ll be alright, Mel. I’m sure it’s just a couple of squatters staying the night, or worst case scenario, maybe a ragtag team of cat swipers who just hit the jackpot. It’s nothing you can’t handle. Besides, local PD should be freed up within the hour after the attempted robbery this morning, so if anything seems fishy get the hell out of Dodge and call for backup.”

“Yea, totally… for sure…” Mel mumbled, her words trailing off as she stood before the door that stood at nearly 2 stories high. “Erm… how exactly do I open this?”

“What, never worked in a warehouse before? If it’s unlocked you should be able to push it up, but it’s gonna be hard if you don’t have any leverage. There’s usually a pulley on the inside that you’re supposed to use, but you can’t even get in there-”

Alex was rudely interrupted by a harsh, rapid clattering of loose metal bearings crashing against each other and the rattle of dusty metal sheets being flung up a pair of rails in desperate need of WD-40. The sound continued once or twice more very briefly after a short pause before subsiding entirely. After some amount of time, Mel sharply exhaled, breaking the silence.

“Huh, just like my father’s garage. Anyways, I’m in,” Mel announced nonchalantly, shaking the dust off her hands. “Can’t see much, but it looks pretty bloody packed in here, though. Might take some time.”

“Well, you know where to find me,” said Alex’s garbled voice. “Hey, what do you say we head downtown later tonight? Last day of your Texas assignment, might as well make the most out of it while you’re here, right? Besides, who knows when you’re coming back here, if ever?”

The thought alone of returning to Texas sent cold shivers creeping across Mel’s back, raising goosebumps on her skin and making hairs stand on edge as they passed. “Yeah, nah, you’re never making me come here on my own will unless you drug me, tie me up in a sack, and dump me out in the heart of Corpus Christi,” she shrugged off with a giggle. “This damn hellhole makes the outback look like Fiji. Every day here is a roll of the dice… and I think my luck’s running out. By the way Alex, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“What’s up?”

“Find a nice pub in town, will you?”

Mel could hear Alex audibly grin from ear to ear through her shitty handheld radio. “That’s my girl! Heh… pub. Hey, drinks are on me tonight, okay? I’ll see you later. Out.” With that final transmission, Alex’s perpetually-tired voice faded into static. Mel dropped her radio into its respective pouch and stepped inside the warehouse. She located the light switches, dimly lit by the sunlight that streamed in from outside, and flipped on all five in one motion. The buzzing of electricity was instantly heard, growing louder in regular intervals as the fluorescent lights overhead flickered to life sequentially.

Bright white luminescence fell from above in a blinding downpour and illuminated dozens upon dozens of full size tractor units, bunched together with inches of space between to squeeze through, complete with unmarked shipping containers on trailers and all. What kind of truck service shop IS this? Mel said to nobody in particular, her thoughts remaining a sound unheard. Rows up on rows and columns upon columns of semis were herded together like livestock, and there wasn’t a single lift, engine hoist, or even a toolbox in sight. Mel was skeptical before, but this slight distrust was aroused into a full-fledged state of suspicion. All of the warning signs were there, but instead of pushing Mel away, it only drew her in further; to her, this wasn’t a prompt of flight or flight, but a mystery begging to be unearthed, or even a puzzle that beckoned to be a solution, although she had a profound distaste for such a trivializing analogy.

There was no way Mel was going to check every single trailer, which must have numbered in the dozens if not close to one hundred. Nevertheless, she started her search with a perimeter sweep of the warehouse’s first floor, occasionally peering between columns of eighteen wheelers or even under, checking for unwanted visitors. The whole time, her presence was marked only with loud, paced steps against the cold floor that echoed through the entire building, the only other audible signature being the monotonous buzzing of the lights and occasional creak of the metal walkways overhead.

After completing an entire uneventful lap, she gave up and decided to call for backup. “Mel here. I don’t recall damn near a hundred or so trucks being a part of the brief. There’s no way I’m searching every single one of these trailers by myself. Could you send a patrol unit or two down here? Maybe five?”

Accompanied by nothing else but the hum of electricity and the faint signature of the industrial fans, Alex’s voice finally came through. “Hold up Mel… taking a bit longer than expected. I’ll send a couple… soon as someone’s free.” His words were heavily punctuated with periodic swaths of static and white noise, which Mel responded to with a healthy dosage of percussive maintenance to the back of her handheld. Grumbling, she folded her arms and stared at the array of trucks that lay before her, but she could feel their many pairs of fogged headlights staring right back at her, mocking her. Their strange incandescent glares proved to be too much, and Mel submitted, cursing to herself and grumbling as she made her way towards the closest trailer unit.

The pair of rusted latches on the back were heavily rusted and offered a considerable amount of resistance. Using a combination of her bodyweight as leverage and the entirety of her lower body muscles to overcome the oxidation-induced friction, Mel finally managed to twist one of the latches free and slid it out of the way, swinging the massive half-door of corrugated brick red sheet metal as far back as she could without hitting the truck behind. Instantly showered with a suffocating blanket of dust and an overpowering, incredible stench of mothballs, Mel let an audible, ugly retch escape from her throat before she covered her mouth and steeled her nerves, climbing inside the container bathed in darkness.

Producing a flashlight from her belt, a blunt cone of light sliced through the darkness, its traced path visible from the sheer amount of stagnant particulate that had been stirred by Mel’s incursion. It was filled from one end to the other with plywood crates, the one closest to her having a misplaced lid that left the crate ajar. But even through this slight gap, the flashlight could illuminate the contents within, and the dull albedo of a black polymer finish was one that Mel was all too familiar with, even with her relatively fresh tenure as an intelligence officer. Casting the lid aside realized her most inane, unfounded speculations. Six AK-pattern rifles in black furniture, standing upright in a styrofoam rack propped against multiple cans of 7.62mm ball ammunition. The next crate she opened yielded identical contents.

In a fervent panic that was starting to burst through the seams of her faltering composure, Mel stumbled back, nearly falling out of the trailer if it wasn’t for the other truck to break her descent. Supporting itself against its chrome bumper, catching her breath, Mel looked around and ran over to the next trailer. This time, fueled by adrenaline, she undid the latch with ease and crawled inside. More crates, just like the last trailer. This time, however, she quickly found that this truck carried not rifles or any other firearm for that matter, but instead rocket propelled grenades and even anti-tank weaponry.

A sick knot formed in her stomach, a pit of steel that made her heart drop and her breath elude itself. A creeping feeling of dread imbued her gut and immobilized her as pins and needles peppered the length of her back and upper neck, stretching all the way to her scalp. Mel had already seen her fair share of drug busts and even numerous search operations against organized crime, and at this point she was no stranger to directly confronting danger. But no two ops were ever the same, and this time it was much worse; caught right in the middle of what appeared to be an illegal arms shipment in transit with zero backup in sight, with the closest possible patrol car being at least 30 minutes away as she was in a relatively secluded area.

“Alex? That backup you were talking about?” Mel spoke, nearly shouted, into her radio. With her radio in her left hand, her right rested on her holster, and she scanned the seemingly vacant walkways above. “We’re gonna need the whole bloody PD.”

Alex’s response came through the radio as bursts of static, much to Mel’s dread. Thinking the terrible reception might be the culprit of this interference, she leapt down from the trailer and headed directly for the loading bay she entered through. Right at the cusp of freedom, however, the unintelligible noise from her radio disappeared, and Alex’s unmistakable voice immediately followed. Nothing else could have brought Mel the same amount of peace as Alex’s panicked calls, his characteristic low energy voice gone, in its place a tone of voice she seldom heard from him. Panic. “Mel! What the fuck are you doing? I’ve been trying to reach you for the last few minutes!”

“Alex! I-”

“This little piggy went to the market…”

A harsh pop of fatiguing, or snapping, metal tore through Mel’s ears. Before she could discern if it was a gunshot, a snapping chain, or perhaps both, the titanic loading bay door quickly unfolded itself with a deafening rattle and slammed shut into the ground, inches away from her face. She instinctively flinched and stumbled backwards, bringing her hands outstretched in front of her face as a cloud of dust was kicked up and expelled violently as the door slammed shut. As soon as she recovered her bearings, Mel immediately drew her handgun and started scanning for anything she could conceal herself behind, anywhere she could take cover and call for backup from, or any way she could get the hell out of there. The barrel of the 17 followed her line of sight, from the walkways above to the gaps between the trucks and to the dark windows of the seemingly empty offices. After a few seconds, her radio set came to life once again, only this time she could properly pay attention to the voice she first heard just moments ago before the door suddenly closed. It was much clearer, but clearly did not belong to Alex.

“This little piggy stayed home… not!”

After a tense silence that strangled Mel, she was suddenly submerged in darkness. The incessant hum of electricity and the loud flickers of the fluorescent lights were absent as well, drowning her in a silence so severe that even her own breaths and the faint ringing in her ears were deafening. Taking out her flashlight, she realized how turning it on would only betray her position in a wide open area and she decided against doing so, instead deciding to hug the walls to get some reference on her position within the building.

Feeling her way along the walls, the only source of illumination being dim cracks of light that leaked through paper-thin openings between the roll-up loading doors and the ground, Mel finally reached the same light switches she used when she first entered just half an hour ago. Flicking them down and back up yielded no change at all.

After a few minutes of clawing through the dark like a dumbass, Mel’s eyes finally adjusted to her pitch black surroundings and could start seeing silhouettes of the trucks lined up bumper to bumper, mirror to mirror, as well as the offices in the corner that were a lot closer than she originally anticipated. Shuffling further along the cool walls in utmost silence, her free hand that was feeling around made contact with an unlocked door handle. Twisting it as slowly as she could, Mel carefully nudged the door open, praying that its door hinges wouldn’t betray her position. Once the gap was large enough, she slipped through and gently closed the door. She grabbed her flashlight and held it in an underhand grip with her left hand, using it to support the firearm in her other hand. Turning it on revealed her surroundings, a damp hallway with a stale smell and dense cobwebs that clung to the ceiling. She entered the first door on her right and closed it behind her.

The office was pitifully small, furnished conservatively. A single 90-degree desk, one file cabinet, and two chairs were covered in a thick layer of dust that had remained undisturbed for an untold passage of time. Mel twisted the window blinds shut and took out her smartphone, turning it on. Only one bar of reception, 13 missed calls, and 107 and counting unread messages. She crawled under the desk and turned off her flashlight, frantically texting Alex with one hand while her other hand clutched her 17 with a shaky, clammy grip. Her breaths were shuddering and only amplified by the acoustics of the wooden desk she hid under, betraying what little composure she had left.

As she hit send, one final crystal clear transmission crackled through her radio’s speaker.

“Should’ve stayed home. Fucking pig!”

The window shattered as a cylindrical metal object was hurled through with great violence, knocking the blinds out of the way. Mel dropped her phone and gun, instantly curling into a fetal position and bracing for impact. Even though she wasn’t directly looking at the flashbang or directly exposed to it, the light of the glowing magnesium that reflected off the peeling walls was still bright enough to leak through her tightly shut eyelids. The clap of thunder was head-splitting and rung through her entire body; it felt as if someone had driven a railroad spike through her ears, and for the longest time she could hear nothing but an incessant, deafening ringing that made her head throb in pain.

A solid boot connected to Mel’s stomach and knocked the wind out of her. She flew out from under the desk, smashing its thick wooden backing. When the bright blurry shapes that obscured her vision faded away, she could just barely make out a humanoid figure standing on top of the desk, and above it was a rectangular hole in the ceiling where a panel used to be. It raised a long, blunt object over its head and jumped, swinging downwards as it fell. The carpet sped away under Mel as she rolled out of harm’s way, the figure landing where she previously lied and smashing the patch of ground next to Mel’s head with the bludgeon.

Mel swung her legs around and into the assailant’s legs, instantly knocking them flat on their ass. Her ears still ringing violently, her eyes burning, and now her abdomen pulverized from a boot-shaped welt that rearranged her intestines, she slowly got up on all fours but was quickly tossed to the ground again. This time, she was pinned down by her assailant’s knees and arms, who was also forcing the blunt object against Mel’s neck like a guillotine.

Mel tried to lift the bar off herself, but a pair of knees were digging into her upper stomach and chest area and her biceps were pinched against the ground. Through gritted teeth, she strained and arched her back, kicked her legs out, and pushed upwards with every ounce of strength she still had before it was lost. Her breaths grew lighter and raspier, her toes curling under her socks, and her eyes meeting those of her attacker’s.

She let out one final airy gasp, and her arched back fell limp, her grip loosened, and her vision grew darker. The last thing Mel saw was her attacker staring right back at her with a sinister gaze illuminated by the faint light from Mel’s smartphone, a light that grew dimmer and dimmer before fading into darkness.

















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