(ooc) Your employees are a bunch of basket cases… like any family business. I will make up for Noah (who has a quite a english name for a almost certainly latino chap) poor sap needs some love
[OOC] Yeah… every single one of the core group of GG is pretty nuts. They have to be to make a high risk venture like this work. And Noah, as far as I know (which I don’t, we haven’t worked these things out yet) was probably born in Australia, though we’re unclear on his ancestry.
I’d call the British people on Flight BSLL wilder than the Aussies.
Throw a reference at Strop for me, and you won’t have to imagine.
Well, maned wolves are native to South America.
Yes, the Aussie bunch are relatively tame by comparison. They a) didn’t bring any recreational drugs with them b) mostly don’t drink that often c) their nuttiness is generally confined to their work and unprofessional behaviour in and around the workplace (and on the track, but that’s another story for another time). So far, the characters who have appeared in the story, in order from least to most mad:
Kai: Initially cocky young and reckless, but a lot of that turned out to be adolescent insecurity and braggadocio, which was systematically drummed out of him, revealing a more measured, introspective and actually somewhat retiring personality. On the track, a real road hog and ultra-aggressive driver, except this time he’s driving his own car valued at over 2.5M AUD, given to him by the company, so he’s taking care not to trash it (nor to let Sam trash it). Possibly the least party prone of the lot, despite appearances.
Dan: (Appeared very briefly at the beginning.) Lawyer, went from being a partner in a major firm in corporate law to managing the legal aspect of GG as she wanted a change of pace and to combine her secret loves without having to work 80 hour weeks. Ruthless, scary and a ball-breaker. Knows how to get things done, what might work, and what won’t work. Madness is confined to her love of overpowered racing cars that ought to be illegal but somehow aren’t and wishes that things like B group hadn’t been banned and featured cars with at least twice as much power.
Strop: Follower of the martial way. Rarely drinks, doesn’t smoke, never done recreational drugs. Eccentric, unpredictably hyperactive and a scatterbrain and perhaps more of a loose cannon since he ‘quit’ his previous career, but still relatively well-behaved.
Noah: Cynical and perpetually grumpy, yes. Occasionally flambouyant and some find his decidedly hipster tastes in clothes, food, music, etc. a bit esoteric (which is the idea). Likes to complain a lot but will go along with things because they’re kind of amusing and these people actually put up well with him.
Hannah: Short-tempered and prone to explosive (if not rational) fits of anger, and not afraid to indulge in the booze. However, much less inclined to do so now as she has recently adopted a baby with her partner (mentioned elsewhere). Said partner is as solid and sensible as a rock, so is particularly effective at keeping her on the ground. Loves to poke fun at the boys, and occasionally yell at them for doing stupid things, then go right ahead and ‘help’ them because she secretly thinks it’s hilarious, except when they can’t get away with it.
Tesla: Normally dresses in fluorescent and neon gym gear, but is actually what we’d call a “thinfat” person (looks fit, is actually horrendously unfit). Sole exception is her stamina when it comes to drinking, indulging in the green, and one night stands. Has a voracious appetite for all of the above and isn’t shy about it (as you have just seen, good luck Rayyan haha). P.S. Cen reliably informs me that Tesla doesn’t get easy when drunk, she never grew out of the college phase and will happily drink you under the table.
Sam: Not actually a GG employee, but a V8 Supercar Series driver who now finds himself between seasons and still looking for a seat for the new year. Got himself ‘hired’ by GG to test Sleipnir. You’ve seen his thought process, most of it starts from his loins and goes straight to his mouth bypassing his brain, though arguably the result when he does bother to engage his brain is even worse… With his baby face and rock-star personality and following on the track, he got trapped in an age warp and never really had the impetus to grow up like most of the others, and the result is an overgrown party animal who might like to ‘expand his horizons’.
Waxwell: (Still based at company HQ in Australia). Software engineer by day, hacker by, well, 24/7 really. Conspiracy theories spouting out of every known orifice. Don’t even ask about his browsing history. Doesn’t drink alcohol or indulge in any mind altering substances because he might lose his edge and the people over the hill watching him might take the opportunity to spirit him away to the place where everyone who knows too much go.
Reece: Not a GG employee, thank Dog, but a client who forked over in excess of 2M AUD for GG to build The Hulk. Drug dealer who operates primarily between Cairns, central QLD and the Gold Coast. This guy is off the charts, not least because he’s spent the entire tournament under the influence of either amphetamines, narcotics, or hallucinogens, but also because this permanently drug addled, aggressive, domineering and frankly predatory personality inhabits the body of a 300+ pound croc. If you’ve caught his attention, look out and preferably stay the hell out of his way, because this is a guy who believes he has the innate right to do whatever he wants, won’t hesitate to do it, and whatever he wants often means anything moving, regardless of gender, race, or species, and sometimes anything not moving as well.
1 Like
**[size=200]E[/size]**merging from the overcast dark grey of the English early morning sky, the military carrier swooped down onto the runway of Salmesbury Aerodrome, swaying in the breeze and the light rain. Only it was rather a little more than swaying, as if an invisible wind had gripped it and taken to pushing it around. It erratically dipped, then swung back up, then stalled, the nose tipping up a little too far for comfort, before the engines surged and the plane jumped forward, evening out. The crew of the control tower watched in consternation as the wheels bounced once, twice, before the plane finally stuck to the runway, turbines whining in reverse as it attempted to stop in half the originally intended distance. Thankfully, it screeched to a halt just metres away from the crash barriers beyond the end of the highway.
The control tower crew got a second shock when the rear hatch of the plane hissed open and out belched thick, rolling white smoke which blanketed the tarmac. In dribs and drabs, the forms of people emerged from the smoke, staggering from side to side. Some were laughing, others were hanging off each other, all certainly seemed to be more than a little affected, with the sole exception of the last two, a young redhead with a handkerchief tied securely over his face, and another man carrying an oversized hammer who seemed to be dressed like Luigi, only sporting a gas mask.
Frantic, personnel started streaming out of the tower and the hangars, running towards the stricken plane and its passengers. Their faces, initially of concern, gradually transformed into confusion, then a mixture of horror and disgust, then a long suffering resignation, as they realised the true nature of the smoke and the state of the passengers.
“Oh man,” Strop said, mane and tail in disarray as he shamelessly flopped face first onto the tarmac like a ragdoll. “So baked right now.”
“Yeah,” was all Hannah could manage, before she too flopped onto the tarmac, stubby limbs pointing in the air.
“You know,” Strop mumbled, partially impeded by his mouth mashed into the ground. “I’ve never smoked pot before. This doesn’t count does it?”
“Yeah nah,” Hannah slurred, before giggling. “I dunno man. You still got baked, but it’s, like, you didn’t actually smoke the joint. But, like… you don’t have to smoke a joint to do pot, right? Coz there’s all kinds of other forms.”
“But, dude,” Strop protested weakly. “It’s not like I had a choice, it was all over the fucking plane, like… fuck.” He rubbed his head and shook it. “Man.”
“Hey guys!” Tesla swung into view, one arm flailing about, the other wrapped around the guy in the aviation kit, Rayon Balls & Tits or whatever it was. “Girl, you’re amazing good fun,” he said, “Why stop the party here? Let’s head to mine, it’s in Preston, just up the road.”
“Oh, that sounds good!” Tesla giggled, before calling to the prostrate forms on the ground. “You heard the man. I’ll catch up with you later.” And with that they lurched off.
“Did she just?” Hannah struggled to rise but failed miserably, falling back, this time her limbs splayed out, her belly turned upwards.
“SMILE SPEEDHUMP!” A disturbingly gleeful Noah hovered overhead, his face obscured by something with a red blinking light. It was his camcorder. Apparently while he was unsuccessful finding a safe haven from the stupefying smoke, his efforts to avoid it were not entirely in vain, as he had retained enough faculties to be his asshole self.
“Oi, fuck off dickhead,” Hannah groaned, trying to cover her face but to no avail, for the rest of her was still very clearly visible. Strop’s eyes bolted open, and he groggily pushed himself upright, trying to sneak away before Noah latched onto him. Alas, while it was dark, the runway lights made him glow like a Christmas tree and he was in no condition to ninja.
“Hey, Strop, your girlfriend is going to love this!”
“Noooooo!” Strop moaned and tried to run, nearly falling over himself. “It doesn’t count coz I wasn’t trying to get high!”
Completely sober and strategically avoiding the stoner shenanigans, Kai looked at the digital clock in the distance, the red numbers indicating that it was just past five in the morning. They had another full day to get to Dunsfold Aerodrome for their special appointment, so to speak. And it was about five hours drive there. That suited him just fine. He was pretty sure in their current state, they wouldn’t miss him for quite a while, hell, with any luck, they wouldn’t even notice he was elsewhere until he turned up. Searching through the cars being lined up on the runway, he found his Mephisto, and swung himself in. Tilting the side mirror, he ran his fingers through his hair trying to gain some semblance of style, but since the last time he had attended to personal hygiene was that unspectacular failure in the gas station toilet somewhere in the middle of New Mexico, it was completely futile. Besides, he was so close, and getting there was the priority.
But not the Dunsfold Aerodrome, there was something far more important.
[ooc] I’ve never smoked pot, so this entire scene was written as a guesstimate from seeing people who have smoked pot, firsthand accounts, and stoner movies. Essentially, as it is we’ve arranged to arrive at Dunsfold Aerodrome at 7am the next day for a special appointment, so that leaves everybody some time to get prepped, do what they need to, and come in their Sunday best (or not).
Special segment plus round 5 results will hopefully be posted tomorrow!
1 Like
IC “Finally… and weather is as shitty as they say: foggier than a hot shower but onthe bright side engines run happier in foggy days”
he took his beloved car and after warming up he began gruising around London and confirming the fact that naturally induced water injection makes engine run smoother One of the first things was to make a Buckingham Palace guard keep his cool while he took a picture with said guard, and offering him a ride in his exotic car The guard agreed… and he returned to his post after half an hour stiffer then before… out of fright.
He then proceeded to keep cruising around London Abbey road. London Eye, an assortemnt of museums and exhibits he would never find at home Sebatian was min mood to take advantage of the day
“Chillaxing at Hyde Park away from the speaker’s corner Meet me there if you want to. I’ll be sipping Yerba Mate right next to my sneakylly parked car”
Sent message to the rest of the contenders and to the GG folks
Flying in a plane that saw action during the Korean war and then had a slightly sketchy past before ending up as a retro play toy of the rich and bored was a unique experience, niall thought as he sat idling in the parking lot of sharron international watching the old beast hurl itself back into the sky. The c130 had had just enough range for the second leg of the flight, from the Canadian coast to Ireland. Fortunately the refueling in Canada had given him enough time to grab some more appropriate tunes, popping in Iron Maiden’s Killers he set his sights on the ferry to England and the coming race. Niall had been streaming a lot of top gear on the flight, making sure he had all the corners and apexs down pat. All that’s left is getting there because he knew the Vindicator wouldn’t let him down on the track.
“We are under attack!.. Repeat … We are under attack!” The radios in the GG truck screamed into life. “They found us, god-fucking-dammit, they found us…”
“This is Foxtrot India Oscar November Alpha! Is anyone there!? Say again, ‘is anyone there?!’” At 0802 in the morning, Normandy’s transport screeched past Dunsford at speeds nearing Mach 1, tailed by two Eurofighter Typhoons.
“This is a civilian aircraft. We are unarmed, there are civilians on board.” He knew they new he was full of shit, but he had to try something.
“Alright” Vos demanded, “We’ll play their game.” He said as he strapped in. “Remember Korea? Give them a taste of the Iron Cross.” “Are you nuts!?” The pilot said, beyond scared shitless. “This thing can’t do that. Shit, the F22 we stole barely could.” “Normandy does’t believe in cant!” Vos decreed with a majestic look on his face. “Say ‘can’t’ again, and I’ll turn you into Ethanol.” “Roger that.” Said the pilot with renewed conviction.
“Bleed our speed” …
“600” … “550” … “450”
“That’s right …”
“Nose up, ass down” …
“Easy, EASY!” … “They’re behind us!”
“Ready JATO rockets” …
“10000” … “10 - 5” … “11000”
“They have a lock!” …
“Close and lock” … (The control surfaces of the wings closed completely and locked.)
“Rotate that shit!” … (At this point, the entire fuselage rotates 90 degree’s and becomes completely vertical)
"Angle the wings!: … (The wings rotate appropriately, creating minimal drag)
“Rotate engines 1 and 2!” (The wing mounted VTOL engines rotate accordingly)
“Are the JATO’s ready?” … “Roger”
“FULL BURN! Repeat! FULL BURN!” (The engines and JATO rockets ignite and blast the aircraft rearward past the tailing jets)
"Open and unlock, rotate and release! Go (The wings and engines rotate and go full throttle while the control surfaces unlock)
“Rotate and align!” (The aircraft spins 180 degree’s, aligning itself with the Earth)
“Back to the DZ. Boss you’re up!”
With that, Vos exited the cockpit, slid down the ladder and headed for the Kodiak. His boys and he unshackled the tie down straps, and he got in. He fired it up, left it in neutral and got ready.
“Approaching DZ. ETA 20 seconds.” A loud klaxon sounded and the rear loading doors slowly opened.
“10 Seconds” The boys pushed the Kodiak slowly forward.
“5”
“4” He put it in first, but kept the clutch in.
“3”
“2 GO!” The boys shoved the Kodiak down the loading ramp where it slid off and landed on the tarmac with a rolling thud doing about 120.
With that, Fiona closed up, popped smoke and got the fuck out of dodge.
Vos hit the breaks and came to a skidding stop about 20 feet from the GG truck.
In the morning, Aaron emerged from his hotel room feeling clean and well-rested. (He was unaware of the state of the crew on Rayyan’s transport) He’d felt better than he did for a long time as he ambled down the stairs to the ground floor buffet restaurant for some breakfast. He heaped bacon and sausage onto his plate, along with some toast and a muffin. As he walked to the drinks counter he wondered whether he would be able to finish everything that was stacked on his plate. He sure felt starving now, but he knew he rarely finished large breakfasts, anyway, he would get a pie at the Leicester game anyway.
After tucking away most of his plate of English goodness, he went back to his room and grabbed his keys and wallet, and began the brisk walk to the King Power stadium for the 12:00 kick-off.
The next part is mainly football (soccer) related, so if that’s not your thing, skip to further down!
Aaron’s mood had been dented as the game was nearing half-time and QPR were 1-0 up. “Still time yet lads” Aaron thought to himself as yet another Leicester City attack came to nothing. After half time, Leicester were the better team. Knockaert was brought on for Albrighton and he gave some real pace to the team and Leicester had a great chance that was saved by the QPR 'keeper, and it wasn’t until the 72nd minute when Leicester finally got what they deserved. Knockaert tore past the QPR defender on the wing and drove the ball low across goal, where Leo Ulloa was there to meet it with a grateful poke into the goal. It was 1-1! Aaron jumped in jubilation along with the other 20 thousand Leicester supporters around him. Aaron and a group of other people started chanting “Ohhh Leo Ulloa” to the tune of Seven Nation Army, and soon the whole home support were doing the same.
The game finished 2-1 to Leicester after QPR gave away a late penalty, and David Nugent slotted it home confidently, and Aaron left the King Power Stadium in a jovial mood as he returned to the Premier Inn to get his things, check out and begin the long drive to Dunsfold.
He decided to spend a bit of time in London as he still had a bit of time to kill before he had to be to Dunsfold. He ended up in Hyde Park and spotted a familiar face, quietly sipping a Yerba Mate on a park bench watching the day go by.
“Hey man!” Aaron said, “How are you finding things in the UK?”
“Cold.” Seba Machado III said, only half joking. “But the scenery is really pretty, the rolling hills and such”
They spent a bit of time making relaxed informal conversation, and after a while, Aaron decided to make his way down to Dunsfold and left Seba to do his own thing.
He clambered into his MechaLimo and sped off in as much elegance as a mediocre-looking sedan with a 1000+hp I6 can muster.
Onwards to the legendary TG Track!
Now I really want a full english 
Whoa vos, what an entry. I’m going to have to write that in!
[OOC] currently in hospital for a nearly burst appendix. With no laptop rp is tough, and not feeling fancy anyway. Marines are bulletproof but not immortal. Should be home in a couple of days.
[OOC] Had that happen to me. Felt like a flaming metal octopus, kung-fu fighting an electrical storm. Fuckin’ brutal. You keep that head on a swivel and get better.
“Ok.” Jack said quietly to himself. “Guys. I think you are under too much influence to drive on the public roads.” - he was met with expected lack of response. Seeing that, he decided to utilise the resources of the mod squad. He made a call, a long ten minutes passed, during which Jack tried hard to persuade the stoners to wait. It did not quite go well, since Manche and Rayyan (with Tesla) have already left during that timespan, and others were getting ready to get behing the wheel themselves.Then, five trucks towing car trailers, each capable of transporting five cars, arrived to the airfield, each driven by a low-rank mod squad member, each with a concealed, smaller hammer. Not only them got to the airfield, but also a motor coach, driven by another low-level mod.
“Now, I think it would be wise if you all got your cars on the trailers and then got into the bus.” - Jack said, hoping they would listen. He doubted they would. He tried again in case he would not. He then turned to Kai to help…wait… where is he.
Then Jack realised he was left alone with approx. 20 stoners.
I’m not at the airfield. I left with Tesla in a cloud of smoke and passion.
[ooc] Get better soon Kristina! I thought something might have happened given your absence, but I’m glad to see you’re still kicking it. Feel free to either join in whenever or catch up, whichever suits you, whenever.
Also Rayyan, Kubboz noticed that, so no problem.
I only mentioned that so i could include the phrase ‘a cloud of smoke and passion’
okay guys I’m writing the next segment now, hopefully the results are up in 4 hours.
As Rayyan drove off into Preston in a cloud of tyre smoke, weed smoke and passion, Tesla and Rayyan got up to unspeakable things in the drivers seat together. Upon arrival at Rayyan’s house in the suburb of Fulwood, Tesla and Rayyan indulged in their passion for each other in wild raging sex that lasted throughout the morning.
As the realisation of the need to be on the way Dunsfold occurred Rayyan and Tesla took to the motorway. On the way down the M6 and Part way down the M40 Rayyan and Tesla shared the drivers seat engaging in many acts of passion. At the Warwick service station between J12 and J13 Rayyan stopped the HFF to fill up for fuel and obtain more food to help with the insane munchies from the weed earlier on. In the service station Tesla noticed a free disabled toilet which they discreetly engaged in their passion. Upon leaving the stall together there was a magnitude of stares from people within the service station and a group of students in Costa unsurprisingly applauding them as they left the service station. The stares became clear as soon as a fifty year old man approaches Rayyan praising him for the passion displayed in the toilet. It seems they weren’t as discreet as they thought they where. The rest of the journey down to Dunsfold Aerodrome was sat through with a hotboxed HFF and a trippy tunes with Tesla behind the wheel.