Great trump cards! 
Yeah about the sponsor decals… Mister Greasepaws the monkey assures me they’re legit, but I dunno… I saw him searching for “yokohama logo” in google image search…
Wait, my power on the card is 1005hp, but my actual power is 1019hp.
Looks like strop has copied it from mine as mine’s the one before it. Also on mine the power to weight ratio is the same as the one before mine even though it should be less.
I didn’t realise mine looked like a berlinetta until it was casually pointed by strop.
p.s. who wouldn’t be content with balls ‘o’ steel 
At the docks, Kristina perused her competition as she lined up with the other 24 cars invited to the Barely Legal Street League’s first event. Indeed there were some interesting machines here. Immediately the Sleipnir caught her eye. She had read about this one in an online blog, and had admired it’s unique look. Would it’s performance match it? She also secretly wondered how many would be leaving the event under their own power. Hopefully she would be among those who would finish.
To be quite honest, she really wasn’t sure if the chassis would hold up, or if she would even be able to make some of these corners. Sure she’d practiced enough on her own track, but never on any of these, and let’s face it, this car really is terrifying. One trip to the corner market will convince even the boldest driver of it’s unrelenting, wanton, predatory nature. The turbos are completly useless under 160km/h, but once the threshold has been passed, the car will rip thorugh you like a comet from outer space.
Lined up for the drive to GG’s warehouse, the sound was pure ectasy. There really were some amazing motors here. The rumbles, roars, gurbles, and growls are music to any gearhead’s ears. Surprisingly, the cars maintained some dignity on the drive from the docks, with only a few instances of showmanship. “They must be saving it up for the race,” she thought to herself, much like she was. There were a few turbo sneezes along the way, of course, but nothing remotely obnoxious. These are true competitors who will let their cars shine on the track, not on the streets.
As they pulled into the warehouse, someone started taking photos of the cars, as a gentleman anounced, “Welcome, all, to Australia!” She had arrived. There was certainly no turning back now. Moving forward, she would have to prove she belonged here. Her car was certainly crazy enough. Hopefully she was too.
Wow and I thought I had a heavy car… that hulk is insane!
I’ve always wanted to be convicted of a war crime…
I guess this is just me, but whenever I see the name Sam Neil on the top trump card, I always get it mixed up with Simon Neil, the singer of Biffy Clyro…
Sooooooo how do we use thse trump cards (if they can be used at all?)
they are just showing the car stats, like in the CTC, you can’t use them.
I thought I would’nt be among the fastest cars out there and among the more powerful, I am happy.
[quote=“accent”]
Looks like strop has copied it from mine as mine’s the one before it. Also on mine the power to weight ratio is the same as the one before mine even though it should be less.[/quote]
Nuts, I’ll fix that later today! EDIT: fixed. Hope there’s no more mistakes, because they’re going on the front page!
**[size=150]T[/size]**he assorted madmen (and madwoman) of the newly convened Barely Legal Street League stared on as Strop poured over the rules and regulations of this largely unregulated tournament. The tournament took all sorts, from old friends and partners to rivals to complete nutters, dressed in an assortment of gear from casual wear to racing suits both modern and retro, one guy was even carrying a monkey (and what’s more, it appeared to be a real, live monkey). But that was all part of the fun.
“You all know why we are here, together, on this night. We all share a vision. A vision of madness, one that defies to the maximum possible extent the rules and regulations. And with that madness, comes risk and adversity. Every one of these machines on this floor range from the dangerous to downright death traps. For those of us who do make it, this promises to be the most intense two weeks of your entire lives. But if any of us perish, let us not mourn each other, for we die in the pursuit of speed, hopefully in a great fireball of glory.”
Strop put his hands together and bowed his head solemnly for a moment, before snapping back to attention with a completely neutral expression.
“I repeat that it is your own responsibility to make your own arrangements to get to the starting line in a timely fashion. However, since we are travelling around the world, we are providing you with a GPS device that both tracks your car’s movements, and also will record your times in the time attack events. This device is linked to a network, the server of which is located in our truck. In fact, Noah is just installing it now! Aren’t you Noah?”
In the background, Noah waved his hand dismissively, and one could hear an indistinct muttering.
“This also helps us determine if anything is going wrong, should you not arrive in time for an event. Be mindful, however, we cannot delay any of these events, so if you’re not there at the arrival time, we will disconnect you from the network until such a time as you somehow find us again, if you can. However, being the hosts, if we should, for any reason, need to change plans ourselves, we will inform you via email with no penalty to yourselves.”
Strop looked at the crowd once more. “Are there any questions? Yes, you?” he pointed at the lone raised hand, belonging to a grizzled, and Strop suspected, significantly inebriated man.
“What if we already have outstanding warrants in the country we’re visiting?”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Strop replied. “Whatever mess you make, just keep that shit away from the league.”
No further questions were forthcoming, so Strop clapped his hands.
“You now have twenty three hours and forty minutes to arrive in the vicinity of the Pit Straight, whereupon at midnight sharp, we will perform a head check and clear the track. And before I forget, there will be one set of flashing lights, so don’t freak out if you see a cop car at the corner of Pit Straight and Mountain Straight.”
At this there were a few confused murmurs, not surprisingly, given the earlier spiel.
“It’ll all make sense when you get there. Anyway, some hints for you: first, this is Australia. The outback gets pretty warm during the day and most of us don’t have any air-con. Get my drift? Find cover before noon and don’t come out before five if you don’t want to bake. Second, it’s seven hundred and fifty kays to Bathurst, so pace yourself. Third, I know for a fact most of these engines drink by the gallon. Out in the country, there are hardly any petrol stations and most of them don’t open before nine in the morning if at all, so choose your route wisely.
“Okay, that’s it. Good luck, and Godspeed.”
**[size=150]A[/size]**s the cars started rumbling out of the warehouse and burbling up the road, Strop spotted it. Sticking out like a sore thumb, the long ramrod straight finned silhouette of the ’62 Cadillac, dwarfing all but the equally ridiculous of ridiculous sedans so long it might as well have been a stretch limo. He remembered the car well, still resplendent in all its green glory. Hulk glory.
“She’s a beauty innit?” A meaty, callused hand wrapped around his shoulder and squeezed all the shock out of him. Strop slowly rose, slowly because of the weight of the hand, rose because it seemed to be pulling him up, until he was staring at the toothy visage of the stockiest, sturdiest croc he had ever seen this side of Queensland, “Er, hi, um…”
“Reece. Reece Parsons, but call me The Jaws.” Reece opened his gargantuan mouth wide, baring rows of razors, before snapping it shut. “Youse guys built this for me, and it’s beaut.”
“Well thanks,” Strop said, trying to massage some life back into his shoulder. “Interesting taste you have though, I thought up in Cairns like most elsewhere, it was all Holden versus Ford. And utes.”
Reece laughed, a deep belly laugh that resonated from his swarthy gut. “Yeah I know mate, but sometimes a guy just wants something a bit unique, of his own, y’know? Something with a bit more oomph, a statement.”
“I’ll say,” Strop murmured. “You taken this anywhere yet?”
Reece shook his head. “I might head to Summernats next year, give people a real shock with a proper four wheel burnout. But right now, I just wanna drive, see how this thing handles a road, going all out.”
Strop boggled a bit, remembering that one test drive he and Kai took the day the Hulk had been completed. The angry Hulk smashing car that spun them right round, several times in fact. “Mate, are you for real?”
“For real?” Reece’s eyes flashed dangerously and he gripped Strop’s arms so hard Strop’s bones started creaking. “Since when has The Jaws not been for real? If I wanna do something, I’m gonna do it and nobody can stop me. That’s the Reece way! When I saw your tournament come up, I knew I absolutely had to do it, broaden my horizons, expand my experiences, see more of the world you know. Because it’s a big world out there for the taking and nobody’s gonna keep it from me, you hear? Nobody!”
It was at this point that, in the dim warehouse lighting, Strop finally realised that Reece’s eyes were bloodshot and he was trembling somewhat fierce, and that he was probably way high on uppers. “Alright man, alright, just… just think twice before you turn off the traction control okay?”
Thankfully, Reece calmed down and so too did the vices on his arms. “Yeah… yeah okay. Onya mate!” and with that, he squeezed his bulk back into the Caddy, and a moment later, it too lurched out of the warehouse driveway.
**[size=150]Q[/size]**uarter to twelve, and all was quiet.
The Gryphon Gear truck was strategically parked at one end of Pit Straight. Inside, Hannah and Tesla waited, watching as the cars pulled onto the road, as subtly as the most unsubtle cars in the world could manage. One look from a casual bystander and it would have been immediately obvious what was about to happen.
In the Peapod, Strop lurched his way to the second row of the grid, behind Reece’s Hulk, and what had definitely had to be the fastest estate wagon in the world, and directly next to Kai’s Ascension Mephisto. He felt rather out of place, almost the only front-wheel-drive car in the first half of the grid (seeded twelfth, however, was what had to be the scariest estate wagon in the world, for it too was front-wheel-drive). Reassuringly, as planned, at the end of the straight was the flashing lights of the police car. Or more accurately, the Holden Commodore they had hired, then plastered HIGHWAY PATROL stickers all over the side, and mounted lights on the top. And prepared a police officer for completeness, looking all authoritative standing next to the car.
“Remind me again, why do I have to dress as the cop?” Noah’s voice crackled over the CB radio the Gryphon Gear crew had taken along.
“You know you love it,” Strop instantly shot back.
“If I recall correctly, impersonating a police officer carries a fine and a jail term.”
“Don’t worry,” Strop grinned. “We’ll cover the fine.”
“It’s the jail term I’m worried about. I vote we make Strop the fall guy, he looks near enough to me in this light.”
“As if I’d fit in your scrawny-ass clothes!” Strop protested.
“Really, Strop?” Noah sighed. “Not only are you sexist and species-ist, but you’re size-ist too?”
The CB radio crackled as everybody else holding one, that was to say, Hannah, Tesla, Kai, and hired driver and best-worst former colleague enemy-friend of Kai, Sam Neil, all enthusiastically voiced their disgust at Strop’s bigotry. The size joke Strop had lined up suddenly fizzled and died, and he sulked over the steering wheel.
“Fine. But watch yourself, I just might forget to brake at the end of the straight.”
“Play nice, Strop,” Hannah warned him. “Noah, I think we’re all formed up now, so it’s all you!”
“Right-o.” Noah dug around the boot of the Commodore and fished out a pair of flashing rods normally used for traffic control (or maybe really awesome rave parties). Channeling the starting line girls of just about every illegal street racing film ever, he put an extra sashay in his step, causing several drivers to stall their cars in the ensuing sexual confusion. At the start line, Noah stood, arms poised high, and two dozen cars revved an eager chorus of burbling and buzzing.
“Hey Kai, wanna play forfeits?” Sam radioed coyly.
“As if I’d lose to you… what’s the forfeit?” Kai responded, just as coyly, just as Noah swung his arms down and the chorus turned into a cacophony of shrieking tyres and roaring engines.
“WINNER GETS TO DECIDE READYSETGO!” Sam whooped as the cars shot forward into chaos, and the first race of the Barely Street Legal League was underway!
The grid of Bathurst, as seeded, was ordered in this manner:
**[size=150]W[/size]**hen it came to taking off, power to weight ratio was actually a really shitty way to seed the cars, so Strop quickly realised. Due to just how different they all where, from drivetrain to tyres to traction control or lack thereof, what started out as a neat staggered double file turned very quickly into a shifting swarming mass of three, four abreast as the pack approached Hell Corner.
Up front, the Thanatos estate wagon proved to be as quick as its stats suggested, leaping off the line with an alacrity unbecoming of its frame. Quickest of the lot to the hundred, it easily opened up a gap by the time it arrived at the first corner. Behind them, The Hulk struggled to get the power down through its skinny two forty fives, but the traction control mercifully kicked in and it surged forward, though not fast enough to prevent Kai in the Mephisto ducking across and taking a look on the inside. Meanwhile, Strop’s Peapod was swamped, being passed on all sides by the ultra-tuned sports cars, and quickly threatened by the comparatively less powerful but far better balanced mid-engined supercars, including the Gemina XIII GTX, the Yacare ULTRA X, and most disconcertingly, Sam in the Sleipnir.
“Byeeee!” Sam gleefully radioed as he snuck past, but too soon, for the shorter wheelbase and more aggressive aero setup meant Strop could pull a tighter corner, which he did, face mashing up against the headrest as the car pulled close to two g, skimming the curb as it carved an inside line against Sleipnir. “How about that, sucker!” Strop crowed.
Mountain straight was an all-out kilometre long drag race with a dip in it, and the whines and howls of rising pitches echoed over the mountain as every driver lined up and opened the taps. The Mephisto and Thanatos, with over two thousand horsepower coursing through their all wheel drive, blasted away and never looked back, but the Hulk, gaining momentum, regained the positions it lost and blew past all cars with lower top speed. Sleipnir, Peapod, the Debrauna, and Griffin all fell prey to its building wrath. Meanwhile, Strop tried nudging his car on impatiently, but with the lowest top speed in the contest of a lowly three hundred and eight, found himself being passed on all sides , until the Brimstone, Infernalis, Mutant, ULTRA X, Lunatic and Annihilator were all ahead of him. It would be a battle up the mountain for sure.
In the meantime, the pack was slowly splitting into three sections, the front two promised to exchange blows, but the rear pack were the cars that were so much so devoted to madness that there was no way for the wheels to channel all that power. They shook and swerved as they struggled to stay on the road, the old timers and the terrifyingly engineered. Rounding up the vanguard was the oldest car, the Testis, hampered by its two speed box. Further ahead was the human rights violation, the Kodiak, and the grand Trans-Ammer to end them all, the Vindicator, its old timer radio drowned out by the noise of the engine, the tyres and the wind as it pushed two seventy.
The off camber of Griffins Bend was the first true test of dynamics, and The Hulk was immediately thrown off, skittering wide as it struggled to keep all two tons of it on the road, then promptly passed by several cars as it struggled to gain traction on the steep uphill. The pack of the rear wheel drive sports cars rumbled through in the middle, chased furiously by the rear wheel drive hatch, the Brimstone. Through the corner, the Peapod started clawing back ground, glued to the road by several hundred kilos of downforce more than most contenders. Similarly, the left kinking crest leading into the sharp rising hairpin left of The Cutting heralded the beginning of a brutal test of grip and bravery, the blind apices difficult enough to predict in the day time, but completely impossible at night, while racing bumper to bumper with only the headlights of rivals to guide one.
It was through this that Kai, increasingly familiar with the legendary course through his building touring car career, fought a losing battle to chase the unnaturally quick Thanatos Estate, for not only was the modified wing on the Estate huge, it was aggressively angled. Meanwhile, Sam, the most experienced veteran of the track this day, picked his way through the field as they struggled to find the line, swooping behind and around and squeezing through the apices with a swiftness fitting the myth of the eight legged steed. Similarly, the Gemina XIII GTX blazed a holy trail through the pack, whereas the similarly formatted Yacare somehow couldn’t find a way through and ended up stuck at the back of that group. The front wheel drives suffered terribly, lack of traction control causing all kinds of drama with understeer through the crests of Reid Park and Sulman Park. The Peapod, however, was the biggest mover, and Strop, also not new to The Mountain, found himself feeling the best kind of satisfied as he shot past almost every car that had passed him as if they were stationary, though unable to close the gap to the fastest three even slinging around the corner to Skyline at an insane two hundred and twenty five.
Within the elongating tail, Kristina was breaking the fastest sweat ever, wrestling her completely unhinged E30 LS7 through the dark back roads, the rear slipping and sliding and the undulating road making it impossible to tell how much throttle or opposite lock each corner required. With each corner, the imposing bulk of the Cottam limo loomed, throwing itself with gusto and understeering wildly with a squeal into every single corner, hampered by its ridiculously long wheelbase. Meanwhile, the power steadily overwhelmed the ageing chassis of the Vindicator, Kodiak and Testis, the latter struggling with choosing between the gear Die Soon, and Die Sooner, for want of suffering turbo lag, or what would definitely be a terminal wheelspin.
At The Dipper, and the corners that followed up until Forrest’s Elbow, the track tightened considerably, forcing the cars into single file. With an aggression borne from experience and knowledge of what followed, Sam muscled Sleipnir into the lead, intent on defending his position tooth and nail come the roller coaster that was Conrod Straight. Strop pushed the Peapod hard to move within a second of the group, hoping to catch every last bit of air from the aggressive wings of the cars in front. After that, the stronger unique cars emerged, the Gemina, the Debrauna, the older but just as bloody fast SD-01R and the bonkers mad Daihatsu- or rather, the Archenar, aided in no small part by its nifty traction control. Behind those, the Griffin, Emperion, Brimstone, Infernalis, Mutant, ULTRA X and Lunatic were all packed tightly together, almost within a second of each other, and just one second behind that, was the Annihilator.
One tight corner later, and once again the taps opened and the cars screamed down the hill. Two hundred, two hundred fifty, three hundred, top speed is king on Conrod Straight. And where the V8 Supercars reach speeds of three hundred and twenty kilometres an hour thundering into the straight, these cars pushed harder, faster than that, easily hitting their top speeds, or three hundred and fifty, and more. Past three hundred thirty, Sam’s dogged defence in Sleipnir did little to stop the charging pair of all wheel drives past, as the Mephisto and Thanatos duked it out for track position going into the Chase. With the superior top speed, the Mephisto got there first, but had to brake earlier and harder to make the left hander, allowing Thanatos to slip under and through and get the move done, bringing Mephisto back under pressure from Sleipnir.
The most terrifying sight was sight of the headlights charging down the mountain, one set seemingly devouring the rear half of the field in turn despite the speeds they were travelling. The Hulk, after a quiet stint near the back due to the thin tyres and gargantuan lumbering nature of the beast, came to life, nearly cleaning up like a bowling ball through an alley stacked with pins. Reece was forced to brake hard in order to even enter The Chase, lest the car spear off the track like many a Supercar when their brakes fail during the Bathurst 1000. That performance was enough to move it from the tail end of the now established third group, to the middle of the second.
At the final corner, the Thanatos consolidated its lead, but Sam in Sleipnir managed to squeeze Kai in the Mephisto out onto the shoulder. Kai desperately tried to get back with superior power, but alas, the start line was too close. The Thanatos crossed the line in first to take a remarkable win by over a second, and Sleipnir held on to pip Mephisto at the line by just one tenth. Superior cornering saved the day for Strop, whose battle with mid-engined supercar Gemina went right down to the wire as he squeezed through by a single hundredth of a second. After that, the superbly engineered rear wheel drive coupe Debrauna claimed a comfortable sixth, chased by the assortment of other all wheel drive oddities, then the rear wheel drive pack, split by the top speed charge of The Hulk. The unaided front-wheel drive cars were next, jockeying for position, and surprisingly, it was the larger, heavier berlinetta coupe, the HFF, that nabbed track position, pulling just ahead to beat the superlight RB-02 by a quarter of a second. Behind them, the fifteen hundred horsepower wagon, Ruby, wildly understeered and smoked up the Pit Straight half-off the road, blowing up grass and dirt, losing a second in the process. The race-long battle between Kristina and Aaron was a close one all the way, with the E30 with the heart of an LS7 skittering across the road on the last corner with plenty of opposite lock, then wobbling back into shape as it beat out the lumbering limo by a second, with the Vindicator a surprise packet, managing to hold onto the tail of the Elegance, its ancient suspension hampering it as it almost snapped out under the heavy load of the right fast left hander. The tail was rounded out by another battle of the classics, the ancient restored parts of the Kodiak barely holding together as it pitched forward under braking, locking up and plowing deep into the corner, then swung wildly and fishtailed. In an instant, the bubble shell of the Testis plunged into the gap, hoping to steal an upset. With tyres smoking all the way up Pit Straight, it was an all out drag race, and once again, the Testis’ ancient two speed transmission proved the vital difference, unable to find traction in gear Die Soon, but unable to find power in Die Sooner, and the Kodiak crossed the line first by half a second.
It was an intense ride, like no other, yet they had all made it, some the worse for wear, some with the whites of their eyes still showing, others jubilant and euphoric with the rush of the chase. At the same time, this was just the first of eight events, each holding the promise of a different challenge, a different outcome. Everybody jumped out of their cars and milled around, chattering and shouting in both camaraderie and rivalry, as the tensions of the race evaporated into the cooling night air.
“HOLY SHIT MATE YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!” Reece ‘The Jaws’ Parsons nearly broke Strop’s neck wrestling him out of the car, Strop barely having time to squeak “Why me???” before Reece thrust a Go-Pro in his face. “Just watch this bit.” Strop’s eyes widened as he saw the cam, from its mountings, record the electric purple LCD display and the speed as outside, the darkness rushed by in an indecipherable blur, but inside, the numbers kept shooting up and up and up.
“Four hundred and twenty six? Are you for real?” Immediately he regretted asking, as Reece punched him in the shoulder. “ALWAYS FOR REAL, THAT’S THE REECE WAY. Woo! What a rush!” Reece shouted at nobody in particular, beating his chest as he strutted off into the crowd.
Right at that moment, everybody froze, for flashing lights appeared on the horizon. Not just one pair, either, but like a swarm of red and blue fireflies they descended, the keening wail of the sirens blending into a blur.
“OH SHIT IT’S THE REAL FUZZ!” Strop shouted, scrambling back into Peapod. “CHEESE IT!” Engines kicked back to life, wheels spun and the swarm dissapated into the darkness under the cover of thick clouds of tyre smoke.
In the end, the full classification, with points awarded, was as follows:
Congratulations to this round’s outright winner Leonardo Balthazar, as the brave and very unhinged pilot of an incredible car (even faster than my only very slightly gimped benchmark entries). But as you can see, there is some very close racing in this! In addition, because we got to see the lack of ground clearance in action already, I shall also present to you the table of:
Turns out there’s a tie for the top spot, so both of you get the points! Running totals shall be calculated later on, on the front page. The story shall pick up again, tomorrow!
mannn…that was intense!!
with a great english accent: “Noice!”
Top FR! I’m in a smug mood. But I know I will come near last at Bonneville…
joint top with the scrapage. makes up for my one point at bathhurst
Yuri slammed Gemina’s door and came cursing in russian towards the crew:
What the f#$%! Is this your “uncompromised racing machine” ? It’s amazing - all these facilities, all this carbon fiber and i get my doors blown by a hearse! And by your mother’s hairdresser’s car on fu@#ing steroids!!!
Enry jumped out of the X90, sweating and excited for his fifth place, somehow he managed to keep behind his excessively ventilated rearend many cars he thought would beat the Achernar, probably thanks to the excellent maneuverability his mechanics got through “magic” (Read: the nifty traction control). Even though at the last corner he had tons of cars stuck to the aforementioned rearend, about to pass him if the straight was a little bit longer. Anyways this was a nice first race for the EGT department, showing the potential of the 24 year old subcompact. Because Haruna is pretty close to Seishido’s headquarters, we decided to secretly sponsor the next race, by offering safety measures, emergency vehicles and cover, closing the track down and telling unsuspecting people that the cops closed it or there’s work in progress