[OOC]Ayep, both yourself and Vos had to use start lap and not flying lap!
Testis had a slower start lap than the M3, but had a slightly fast flying lap than the M3’s start lap!
[OOC] So mates, this was my first run in such a big, no… not big, HUGE race. I want to thank you all for the interesting RP even if i stayed more in the shadows just reading 
As for my car… welp… it was made with the intetiong of HP, even if this screwed the stats. I can’t wait for the next race of the series. I have a better car made for you 
[Ooc] it’s not over yet! I’m yet to reach the true intensity of this chapter, but nonetheless, you’re very welcome!
Due to popular demand there will be a second BSLL, the foundations are being laid. I’ll try to run it in a much tighter fashion than previously so these massive blowouts won’t be as bad, which means I’ll be unlikely to release it until even the middle of next year!
Hi guys, it’s already New Year’s over here, so Happy New Year! So sorry this has taken so long to update, but of course, with family around while still working, it has become difficult to update in a timely fashion. I’ll have to take this into account next time around.
This next lap (where it all gets very rough) is not yet finished, but I have managed to get it to a cliffhanger, so at least it’s something while you wait! I will merely edit this post when the next installment is finished.
**[size=200]I[/size]**n the van about two corners ahead, Der Bayer’s ears pricked as he picked up a new wave of transmissions on the channels. It sounded an awful lot like “SHOTS FIRED” in both English and German. In a flash he was on the radio. “Jack, Roland, what the hell is going on?”
Roland came back first, “We’re in trouble! I can’t shake him!” The transmission was interrupted by a loud bang, followed by a series of smaller pops and a pings. “The car is armoured, not even mod slugs damage it!”
Stashed in the cargo bay, Noah banged on the hatch. “Hey, I lost control of the GPS network! I think somebody’s trying to remotely access it!”
“Well then stop them!” Hannah yelled.
“I can’t! I’m an electrician, not a hacker!”
“I don’t care if you pull the plug, but if they get all our details, everybody’s fucked!”
“Wait!” Der Bayer seesawed furiously through the final S of Hatzenbach, unwinding and pulling the foot down. “Jack, can you sort that out?”
“My pleasure,” came the reply, and shortly after, the van blew by the Felicia Combi, having slowed down considerably to drop back towards the fray.
In the M3, a fine sheen of sweat shone on Kristina’s brow, and her hair hung in frazzled strands. Despite the frigid air outside, the cabin was nearly as hot as the action. Everything on the car was overheating, the engine, the brakes, the tyres, and it took every ounce of her courage and skill to coax the car along, the feel of the road vague and rubbery. In her mirrors, was a front row seat to the unfolding battle between Testis and Hasira. She tried her best to ignore the flashes of muzzle fire flickering in the reflection, as well as the sharp popping noises of the submachine gun and the heavier whump of the shotgun that punctuated the whistle of the turbo.
“They’re trying to hack the GPS network!” Aixa exclaimed, completely oblivious to the gun fight unfolding behind them. “I’m going to jam their comms, can you keep them in sight?”
“I’m trying!” Was all Kristina could say.
Trying was all Roland and the hobo driving Testis could do, but there was no keeping abreast of Hasira. Roland ducked for cover as he saw the snub barrel of an MP5 poke out from Hasira’s window, Agent Black aiming and ready. Glass shattered and metallic clanks rang out as bullets punched into the steel bodywork.
“Take evasive action!” he yelled at the drunk hobo next to him. From the crate on the floor, 8bs grabbed a bottle, stuffed a rag into it and flicked his Bic. “At least it isn’t gin,” he quipped before lobbing it out the window at Hasira.
The bottle shattered, and blue fire flashed across Hasira’s windshield. Hasira wobbled as it swerved and braked away, almost losing it over the jump in Quiddelbacher Hohe. Inside Hasira, Agent Decker and Agent Black were briefly preoccupied with beating the flames leaking into the cabin off their armor. “Keep them locked down!”
“I can’t do everything at once!” Agent Black snapped, trying and failing to juggle the computer and the MP5. “You do something about it!” Agent Decker grunted as another molotov came flying out the window of Testis, shattered glass scattering over the road. “That’s it, no more Mister Nice Guy.” Flying along Flugplatz, Agent Decker’s eyes narrowed and moustache twitched, foot firmly planted to the firewall while Hasira lined up behind the Testis. With superior power, grip and mass, Hasira shot forward and directly into the rear end of Testis.
Roland and the hobo lurched in their seats as the rear bounced, wheels losing contact for a sickening moment before bouncing back, torque surging through the wheels. 8bs swerved this way and that, Testis sliding dangerously from side to side, before finally settling. Roland looked around, trying to point his banhammer shotgun backwards, but Hasira was stuck to the rear and he couldn’t get a clear shot. Mercilessly, the cop car surged forward again, slamming into Testis once more.
“Look out!” With the rear wheels still bouncing, Testis lost traction doing over two hundred and fifty over the crest into Schwedenkreuz. For a giddying moment, the car shifted sideways in the air, then came down hard, wheels digging into the wet grass. Clods of earth shot into the air as Testis slid sideways, bogging down more and more until thoroughly overworn, the axles snapped off, flinging the body of the car across the grass. Bits of metal and panels and shattered glass flew everywhere, the frame bouncing and rolling in a twisted heap of scrap metal before coming to rest just shy of Aremberg, smoke pouring out one end.
Barely entering Fuchsrohre, a horrified Jack Cossack saw everything unfolding in his mirrors. “Roland, respond!” he yelled into the mic.
There was no response.
1 Like
aarghh… son of a bieeeeeetchhh…
i held the wheel with all my strength, and then all went crazy…
… uh…what? … no mum, i don’t want milk for breaksfast… come on mum, let me sleep… uh? granpa’s car? i don’t know!! let me sleep!!! …
Bloody hell!
Dang it!
Whoa. Agent Decker is officially screwed…
…
…
…
Grandpa’s coming to avenge his car after all.
HAHAHA YES!
“Jesus christ, they’re killing people!”
“Fuck! They’re on my ass like shit on Velcro! Fiona, where the hell are you?”
“Were kinda busy boss…”
“God dammit!” He yelled at himself.
Shortly thereafter, the Hasira got within PITing distance of his Kodiak, but instead of taking him down clean, Black half climed out of her window and aimed the trademark snub-nosed barrel of an MP5K downrange at Vos.
P-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-yah!
P-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-yah!
P-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-yah!
-click-
After a few seconds of automatic fire, the Kodiak was filled with shards of glass, smoke, and riddle with bullet holes.
“Enough!” Vos shouted, as he slammed his breaks to the floor.
Vos’ sudden stop plowed Kodiak’s rear end into and over the Hasira’s hood and coming to rest rear wheel deep in the passenger compartment. The impact nearly knocked Black from the Hasira and threw her weapon from her hold, sending it tumbling down the track.
“Hey asshole!” Vos yelled at Decker. “I moustache you a question!” He snarked before laughing hysterically at himself. “You think I need knew tires?” He joked once more before laughing again.
Moments later, Vos heard the thunderous crack of Desert Eagle punching half-dollar size holes in the Kodiak’s cab. “Oh, fuck you, that was funny!” He yelled while putting the gearbox in neutral and flooring the gas, pumping gallons of putrid black smoke and occasional fireballs into the Hasiras cab.
Moments later, Deckers window rolled down, and his head shot out coughing and puking through the burned remains of his moustache. “God damn, son.” Vos yelled before putting the Kodiak in gear and flooring it and burning out off the Hasiras hood, throwing bits of glass and steel-reinforced carbon fibre into its cab.
[OOC: You got the agents wrong. The guy with a mustache is Decker and his partner is Black.]
[Ooc] I thought about leaving as an allusion to the fact that Vos doesn’t care enough to know who they are, but for the sake of continuity, I chose to fix it.
[Ooc] as it is mega dick move to kill players off without consent, I won’t do it unless prearranged! Same for inserted mod characters. However Testis isn’t exactly a safe car…
[OOC: Everything can be survived. 
]
[ooc] My stunt didnt kill anyone. All they did was get peppered with shrapnel, contract a reasonable case of Black-Lung and lose facial hair, sheesh.
[ooc]It’s a killer machine! Lol. Miracles happen! Happy New Year guys!
[ooc] This is my 1000th post. Happy New Year!
With this post, I just wanted to say I’ve updated the story again, but to keep it together, have edited the post: viewtopic.php?f=39&t=4988&p=56582#p56582 This includes the bits that Kubboz and VosNox have written, with some minor edits for continuity. Well done, your sacrifices will not have been in vain!
More update to come as I keep writing!
Now that’s what I call serial escalation. Nice. Still hoping Roland and 8bs’ hobo will have turned out to pull a Kubica off.
EDIT: Decker and Black have just been burned…
…
…
…
…
…twice.
“You little bitch!” Vos called angry at toward the Hasira as it hauled away. “That’s it”
He reached between the center console and his footwell and pressed a small red button, which slid the lining of the Kodiaks roof back revealing a cache of weapons, including, but not limited to: A Kris SMG (Google it), an AA12 (Googlel it), an M79, a Glock 18, a .45 ACP, and two USP .45’s. The glove box split in two revealing a selection of ammunition and back up magazines for every weapon.
[Ooc] and here I was about to say, "vos would be kicking himself for not packing heat LOL
Question is, he’ll never catch up to Hasira in this state. What’s he going to do with all that firepower? I think I have an inkling…