Shitbox Rally 2023 - Stage 14 (FINISHED!)

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Chapter 0, Part I

📅 MARCH 24, 2023 - 12:30 AM PST

📍 Great Basin Desert, Nevada, United States

“No, wait. Let’s go over the plan one more time.”

“Goddammit woman, we’ve been over this a hundred times already!”

“All it takes is one mistake and we’re dead. Just humor me.”

“Ok, fine.”

“First we go upstairs. We enter the mechanical room just before the mess hall and from there we can slip out. Taking the third access corridor should give us roof access. From there, we go down the fire escape and go a mile down the river bank to the loading bay. Logistics should still be processing that giant shipment that came in a few hours ago. I doubt anyone’s working on that at this time, so we can use that to our advantage. Finally, from loading bay B3 we can take the catwalk to the hangar.”

“Sounds good.”

“We’ll have a 2-minute window to make it to that mechanical room. And what are you doing??”

“Just in case.”

“You really think a gun is going to solve anything? If they catch us, it’s over. There’s no way we’re surviving a firefight. A gun’s dead weight. We have no choice but to try to slip out unnoticed.”

“Your loss. You’re gonna thank me later.”

“Whatever. You sure you wanna do this? There’s no going back, you know.”

“This place feels like a coffin. I’m leaving even if it kills me.”

“As if death has ever fazed you.”

Her hand carefully grasped the door handle and twisted, gently opening the door as silently as she could. If anything, the thunderous pounding of her heart was more likely to attract someone’s attention. She took a deep breath and looked down both ends of the empty hallway.

“Clear. Let’s go.”

The two girls slipped out of their private quarters and made their way down the hallway flooded with bright fluorescent light. Quietly traversing a linoleum floor was a task easier said than done, but by walking toe-to-heel, they made it up the staircase unnoticed. The straps of their backpacks bit into their skin as they ascended the stairs, pulled as tightly as possible to prevent them from making any noise. Peeking over the topmost flight of stairs revealed that the second floor was just as devoid of movement as the first.

“Is the mechanical room there?”

“Yeah, no shit it is. What, can a door grow legs and walk away?”

A lock of auburn hair fell loose as she peeked around the corner, looking down both ends of the intersecting hallway. She tucked it behind her ears and motioned to the other girl.

“Let’s go.”

They moved in unison, the cadence of their whisper-quiet footsteps in near perfect sync. Producing a ring of keys from inside her tank top, the only location where they wouldn’t jingle loudly, the door unlocked with complacence and they quickly entered the mechanical room.

The incessant clatter and drone of HVAC systems and the buzzing of lights filled their ears and the smell of mothballs assaulted their noses, but all they could focus on was finding a way out. Dull yellow lights flickered intermittently down the stuffy hallway, lights that cast a matte sheen off the other girl’s dark hair with accents of violet as they traversed the third access corridor.

“If that map was correct, this should take us to the roof.”

The redhead leaned into the door to influence it into a position more favorable for passing through, but her leverage was only sufficient to motivate it a few degrees at best before slamming shut. A breeze of chilly wind that slipped through the crack hinted as to why that might’ve been the case. Taking a step back, she pushed the door open with greater force and they stepped outside, the wind blowing the door shut behind them. Their hair waved and danced in the cold gusts of the moonlight that howled gently.

“Shit! Who would’ve thought it could get this cold at night here?”

“Well, we are in a desert.”

“There’s some vehicles on patrol. Think we can slip by?”

“Odd. There’s usually only three or so trucks at any given moment on the airfield. We should still be able to make it though unnoticed if we hug the walls. Stay in shadows whenever possible. Once we make it to that guard tower at 10-o’-clock, we can use the riverbank to get to the hangar.”

“Walking, walking, and more walking. Got it.”

“Got any better ideas?”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

The loud clatter of rusted metal fixtures beneath their feet didn’t seem to bother them as they carefully descended the fire escape hugging the side of their barracks, the closest semblance to something they could remotely call “home” for the past 1 and a half or so years. Home was more than just a place for the two girls. It was a loose blurry series of recollections spent burning alive under the ruthless Nevadan sun, feeling like the ground was about to give way under their feet after 8-hour sorties, and perpetually growing accustomed to new faces and voices that never seemed to stick around for more than a few months at a time. They were abandoning not just a physical space but a greater space beyond description that had shaped their lives for their last few years - memories. Memories that defined them in ways they preferred not to and memories that recollected sights, sounds, and rotten smells best left forgotten.

When their feet touched the solid ground of pavement, they walked briskly through the compound, staying close to the chain link fence that defined its perimeter, reducing their time spent exposed in the glittering moonlight as much as possible. Security trucks that rolled by were seen and heard long before they posed any immediate threat, and by quickly ducking behind the local flora such as a dumpster or forklift they were able to evade any patrolling security with ease.

Upon reaching the checkpoint at the guard tower, the two girls ducked behind a concrete barrier. A crew cab Seikatsu 10K with a M2HB mounted in the bed pulled up behind the gate on the outside and came to a halt, gravel crunching loudly under its all-terrain tires.

“Shit! Did they see us?” The redhead instinctively reached for the sidearm resting in her thigh holster. Her hastiness, however, was met with disapproval from the more cautious of the two girls. A hand on her shoulder and a stern look was all she needed to get the message.

Over the distant clatter of the diesel engine, they heard the driver of the truck walk towards the guard tower. The redhead peeked around the corner of the barrier and saw him waving to another figure climbing down the ladder of the tower. Both of them had rifles slung across their backs clad in what looked like “chocolate chip” Desert Storm-era BDUs with the unmistakable blobs of brown against a tan canvas. “Sup dude.”

“Bro, it’s chilly as hell tonight!” The guard jumped off the last few rungs of the ladder, his fist meeting that of the driver’s.

Both girls, apparently sharing the same braincell, rolled their eyes in unison. Boys will be boys, the redhead scoffed to herself.

“Tell me about it. Dude, Kyle had to take a shit in a bush and a snake literally bit him in the ass!”

“Holy shit! Was it poisonous?”

“Nah. You should’ve seen the look on his face. He didn’t even wipe or anything, he just ran over screaming like a little bitch. HAH! I hightailed it back here and called for backup, told them I had to cut the patrol short.”

“Jesus, didn’t think there’d be any snakes at this time.”

“Anyways, I’m gonna take him to the infirmary. I’ll talk to you later.” The truck driver mounted his trusty steed glimmering like white snow in the Nevadan moonlight. Through the heavily-tinted windshield, the girls could catch a faint glimpse of his comrade in the back seat, writhing in a great agony that went beyond description.

“Hold up, I’m coming with.” The guard ran around to the other side of the Seikatsu and hopped inside riding shotgun. “Matt was supposed to take my shift a half hour ago but that asshole’s nowhere to be found.”

“You’re just gonna leave the gate unattended like that?”

“Oh, please. We’re gone for 3 minutes at most. Besides, nothing ever happens at this time of the day. Not like anyone’s gonna slip in or out while we’re gone.”

“Surely.”

The doors slammed shut and the gate was pulled open with the hum of an electric motor. The two girls watched in silence as the headlights grew brighter and the truck flew by in a blur, but not before the right passenger window rolled down to let out the pleasant noise of the guard’s dry heaving. “It smells like SHIT in here!” he choked. Before they knew it, the truck had disappeared into the distance, leaving behind the faint smell of diesel fumes and a much more pungent smell that was immediately recognized.

“Aw, shit! God, he wasn’t lying, was he?” The redhead cringed and plugged her nose. “Let’s get moving!”

The two girls very quickly left the scene, managing to sneak through the closing gate and slipped into the pitch black of the barren midnight desert.

The riverbank could hardly be called that, having been reduced to little more than a bank of soft sand and dried bushes a few meters wide that snaked around the entire compound and went further south for a few miles. Water did flow through it on a seasonal basis, but being in some Nevadan desert in the middle of nowhere, that basis felt more like once every passing of Halley’s comet. The girls hobbled clumsily through the extremely fine grains that lined the dried-out riverbed which almost perfectly concealed the sounds of their footsteps albeit at a reduced pace.

15 minutes later, they reached a vantage point on top of a small hill overlooking the entire main airfield and staging area, a detachment of the base located on the opposite side of the dried-out river and a mile down. Peeking over the crest, the dark-haired girl took a pair of binoculars out of her backpack and scanned the area for any signs of substantial activity that couldn’t be easily avoided. Massive fuel silos, hangars, and warehouses painted in the ambient colors of the landscape towered over the acres of asphalt dedicated to the runway. Various aircraft ranging from helicopters to transport planes and even 4th-generation fighter jets could be seen in varying states of combat readiness, with some under tarps and some with a full combat loadout.

“You know, looking at it from this angle really makes it seem like there’s an entire army here,” the redhead commented.

“Wouldn’t surprise me at all. This is Shachou we’re talking about.”

“How’s it looking?”

“Same as before. Shouldn’t be hard to get in, but getting to loading bay B3 will be difficult.”

“Do you really think they’d question two pilots going up to one of the hangars unattended?” The redhead idly racked the slide of her handgun, revealing the brass-cased cartridge in its chamber. “For all they know, we could have a legitimate reason to be there.”

“I’m not taking any chances.” Her response was unwavering as it was cold. Everything went exactly according to her plan, meticulously calculated and revised to yield the lowest amount of risk possible.

“You know, you should be thankful that I decided to go through with your plan. I’m amazed we haven’t been shot dead yet.”

“And what would’ve you preferred?” The dark-haired girl fired back without hesitation. “Go in guns blazing?”

Her snarky comment was met with a dismissive “tch.”

Once the coast was evaluated to be sufficiently clear, the girls were once again on the move. The sagebrush danced in the cool midnight breeze, effectively obscuring their movement down the hill as they approached the airfield. Compared to the installation’s northern site they had just left, the southern site was far larger mainly by virtue of the airfield and was much more protected. Two layers of chain-link fence topped with razor wire formed a boundary that was nigh impenetrable for the two girls alone. They stopped a hundred meters short of a bridge leading to one of the main entryways, flanked on either side by a pair of spotlights shining down the road. A cursory glance through binoculars revealed more armed guards loitering around a campfire beside the gate.

“This… was unforeseen.”

“Don’t tell me you were thinking about walking right in?” scoffed the redhead.

“Of course not. It’s just… unusual. Security seems unusually light today.”

“It’s like they want us to just walk out or something.”

“Exactly.” Though apparently unfazed at this development, there was still a discernible sense of uneasiness in the dark-haired girl’s voice that the redhead picked up on. “I’m not liking this one bit.”

The girls continued with their plan. Under the bridge was a storm drain protruding from the embankment under the bridge. They had scouted it out weeks earlier during a training run, having deduced that it was likely their only option if they wanted to reach loading bay B3 without a confrontation that would most likely end up in their deaths. Three pieces of rebar obstructed the already-cramped opening, forcing them to shove their backpacks through separately and painfully wedge their bodies between the rebar in a sideways prone position.

The single flashlight the girls brought was hardly sufficient to navigate the echoey depths of the storm drain. After a few minutes of clawing around in the dark interrupted by the occasional ow! or shit! when one stepped on the other’s feet, they reached a break in the tunnel with a ladder off to the side leading up to a manhole cover. Climbing up the ladder, which was little more than a few bent pieces of rebar shoved into the concrete wall, the girls quickly ran into a problem that hadn’t been accounted for in their planning.

“Damn it! This piece of shit won’t budge!” The redhead cursed under labored breaths that echoed through the tunnel as she stood on one of the ladder’s rungs and pushed upwards with her back. Alas, the coffee table-sized wedge of solid iron did not raise even an inch. “It’s gotta be at least a hundred kilos!”

“Can’t you squat that?”

“Not in this awkward-ass position! Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna help me, you little shit?”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Climbing up the ladder, both girls maneuvered into position while awkwardly balancing on one foot, forced to share what limited real estate they had on the ladder’s rungs. They braced themselves against the wall and mentally prepared themselves for an action that would most likely destroy their backs for months to come, assuming they weren’t already dead by then. Alas, this inevitability was made apparent when the redhead initiated the countdown.

“One, two, three!”

Pushing upwards with their backs, knees shaking and thighs searing with a burning pain, the girls finally managed to barely lift the manhole cover off the ground just enough for them to jam the flashlight through the opening. After peeking through to scan for any movement, they managed to roll the cover halfway out of the way before it crushed the flashlight that had so conveniently acted as a pivot. A certain ginger fit through the opening just fine, though the process wasn’t as streamlined for her partner.

“What’s taking you so damn long, woman?” she sharply whispered, head on a pivot as she scanned the suffocatingly narrow pitch-black corridors of the hallway they’d climbed into.

“My boobs-! Can you move it out of the way a bit more?” Looking down, she saw that her darker-haired associate had only managed to wedge her head and shoulders out of the narrow opening, one that was apparently narrow enough to stop the marginally more well-endowed of the two girls from passing through.

“Ugh, fine, I get it! God, girl, you don’t have to rub it in my face!” Bending down and squatting over the manhole cover, it was far easier for the redhead to lift it out of the way than trying to push it out of its hole from underneath.

“I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Little shit…”

Yet another few minutes of haphazardly pawing their way through their pitch black surroundings commenced, though this time it didn’t take them long to make their way to loading bay B3. Little more than a warehouse-sized detachment sectioned off from a far larger facility, the ground floor was packed full of pallets and crates laid out in a tight grid pattern. A catwalk was suspended from the ceiling and snaked around all four walls, eventually leading outside to the rest of the facility. The loading bay was vacant as predicted, allowing them to pass through and take the stairs to the catwalk.

The “hangar” was utterly biblical in proportion, its interior space sufficient enough to house an aircraft carrier or two with room to spare. Unfinished fuselages and chassis elements in varying states of intactness were scattered about the floor in a structured yet disorderly chaos, interspersed with heavy-duty construction equipment and scaffolding laid out in a labyrinthine fashion. Most of the equipment congregated around a series of 16 elevated platforms spaced evenly in a grid, each one containing some covered monolithic structure that towered over everything else. Even with the girls walking at a brisk pace, the space encompassed by the hangar was so grand that these distant objects seemed almost fixed in place like a faraway mountain range persisting in the scope of one’s vision when traversing great tracts of land.

They approached the platform closest to them, its ‘payload’ reaching and surpassing the catwalk they stood on 4 stories above ground level. Even when obscured, the silhouette formed by its ailerons and massive engines bulging against the thick canvas tarp pulled over its athletic profile and sharp yet sleek surfaces was unmistakable. The redhead pulled a flap of the cover loose to expose one of the surfaces, unsettling a thick blanket of dust. It was finished in a dull red paint pockmarked with dents, gouges, and scratches exposing the bare metal underneath. The words “ZIEGLER AEROSPACE AND DEFENSE” were emblazoned on it with an accompanying logo. Adjacent to it was the infamous logo of a black rabbit with an eyepatch.

“God, these are all ancient pieces of shit!” The redhead flung the cover back with violence, groaning in frustration. “Do we even have a single one-seater?”

“Not at this base, no. And she didn’t seem keen on bringing any new ones over here anytime soon.”

“She’s even said this is her best squadron, too! If she likes us so much, why do we still roll around in these shitty hand-me-downs?”

“Sink or swim… that’s Shachou for you.”

“Where’s our’s again?”

“C2.”

The catwalks were laid out in a similar grid pattern surrounding the platforms from above. Nearing their destination, platform C2, it was immediately apparent that something was wrong. They referenced the hand-drawn map they haphazardly scribbled onto a napkin and backtracked their steps multiple times, double and triple-checking the orientation of their map. Every attempt would lead them back to the same platform, theirs - there was no mistake about it.

Unlike the other platforms, this one was completely empty.

As was customary, the redhead was the first to break the unbearably deafening silence. She walked up to the railing and grasped it tightly, looking downwards towards the vacant platform. “So… where the hell is it?!”

“They must’ve moved it up to Sanctuary for repairs.” The dark-haired girl crumpled the map-kin in her hands and hurled it over the ledge, watching as it plummeted into the mechanical sprawl below them. “We did get it pretty heavily damaged during our last sortie.”

“Then what the hell do we do? That thing was our ticket out of here! We won’t stand a chance in anything else, not even a tank! There’s gotta be something else we can use…” She grew lightheaded with a grave uneasiness, the kind that made her stick to her stomach and ate away at her composure.
The ear-splitting shrill tone of crescendoing alarm suddenly rang through the entire building, followed by the flashing of red lights above them.

“SHIT! That’s not us, is it?”

“It can’t be. We’d know if we’ve been spotted.”

A series of distant explosions thundered all around them, sending great ripples through the catwalks and launching the girls airborne. It was as if they were in a snow globe that had just been rolled down a pyramid. The skylights above them shattered and cast a shower of fine glass dust shards raining down on them. The dark-haired girl landed face-first on the grated floor of the catwalk and looked up just in time to see her partner start to roll off and plunge to the fatal depths below. Lunging forward, she grabbed the screaming girl’s wrist and yanked her back up. The lights flickered above as the distant rumbles subsided. Through the holes where the skylights once were, the night sky blended with a brilliant yellow-orange glow as black plumes of smoke crept into view.

“You okay?”

Though a simple inquisition, those two words were enough to calm the hyperventilating redhead. She blinked as if to register the fact she was still in one piece and not a liquefied splatter on the ground 20 meters below, and looked at her guardian angel. “I- I’m okay!”

“Attention!” demanded a female voice with the thickest Japanese accent possible emanating from the speakers. “Enemy combatants have breached all major entrances of the north and south wings! This is not a drill! Combat Readiness Stage: Level 0! All personnel, rendezvous immediately with your CO and await further orders! This is not a drill!”

As she helped her fairer-haired partner back up on her still-shaking feet, not-so-distant rapid gunfire echoed all around them and seemed to get closer with every shot. “Shall we proceed with plan B?” she asked, posing the question with a collected calmness but with a sternness that beckoned haste.

“Now’s as good a time as any!”



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Chapter 0, Part I [cont.]

📅 MARCH 24, 2023 - 2:00 AM PST

📍 Great Basin Desert, Nevada, United States

Catherine had lost count of how many hours she’d spent trying to fall asleep. Come to think of it, the very concept of keeping time itself was as foreign to her as that of a good night’s sleep. Countless days and weeks of monotony had obfuscated all perception of the flow of time, and at this point, whether she had been there for months or years made no difference. With every day simply being a repeat of the last, it was as if she was stuck in some recursive time loop with no way out.

One hour a day. That was all the time she was allowed to spend outside her cell, just like everyone else. One hour of suffocating under the heat of the Nevadan sun in the “courtyard,” a 1-acre field of sand bordered by chain link fence topped with electrified razor wire, before she would be sent back to the arid, frigid concrete walls of her confines felt more like a purgatory than anything else. A single flickering light bulb hung in isolation above the concrete slab that was her bed, its incessant buzzing steadily stripping away at her mental fortitude like layers of an onion.

Just before succumbing to her delirium, an explosion sent ripples of shockwaves cascading through the building. Catherine snapped back into consciousness and abruptly sat back up in bed, her stomach painfully churning with adrenaline. She was in a state of lucidity and alertness she hadn’t felt in months. Legs trembling and ears still ringing, she stumbled over to the door of her cell and peeked through the tiny opening. In a sweeping motion, the other cells lining the walls grew dark, and soon enough the entire building was entombed in an impenetrable darkness. Sirens and alarms wailed in the distance, a mere backdrop against gunshots that rang painfully close and stabbed at her ears.

Beams of light cut through the darkness with blindingly bright, rapid flashes of light. Shouting and screaming punctuated with bursts of gunfire erupted all around her. Catherine shook the door handle with reckless abandon and tried to force it open, her chest heaving in rapid succession with every panicked breath she took.

Suddenly, the electronic lock disengaged and the door flung open with little resistance. And so had the one next to her. And the next. When emergency lights finally turned on, Catherine realized that every cell door had suddenly been unlocked. This blessing in disguise very quickly became more of a curse as the panic increased tenfold. She ran to the nearest exit and immediately stumbled and smashed her face into the ground, her legs having given out underneath her.

The other prisoners, unsurprisingly having the same idea, all made a break for the single point of entry and exit. Hundreds of footsteps thundered all around Catherine as she struggled to rise to her feet amidst the flowing rapids of bodies that would push, trample, and shove her back to the ground. Gasping in pain, she steadily rose to her feet once again and limped towards the exit, leaning against the railing for support. She looked towards the ground floor and watched as a handful of prisoners lined up against a wall were mercilessly gunned down by a group of mercenaries wearing all black BDUs, one that contrasted the usual desert camo pattern she saw the guards wearing. Her breathing had been reduced to fervent panting and all higher functions ceased to exist as her survival instincts kicked into overdrive.

Just before she could reach the corridor leading to the central wing of the prison, she was once again knocked to the ground by what felt like a sledgehammer ramming into her shoulder. She winced and cried out, struggling to stand back up on her battered legs that felt as if they were made of jello. Suddenly, a pair of large hangs grabbed her by the ankles with a painful vice grip. By the time she registered what was happening, she was already being dragged into a nearby cell. The blood streaming from her nose left an intermittent trail of bright red on the ground as the last remaining prisoners ran by, gunshots still ringing loudly and screaming erupting all around.

Mustering what little strength she had left, Catherine jerked one of her legs free and kicked the man dragging her square in the chest. It felt like she had just kicked a brick wall, and before she could wind back for another strike, he braced both of her legs under his arms, truly immobilizing her. “LET GO OF ME!” she screamed in futility, trying to wiggle her legs free as she held onto the bars forming the wall of the cell. With a powerful yank, her grip was painfully torn loose as she was thrown into the corner of the cell that reeked of unwashed asscrack and semen. She finally caught a glimpse of the man who was about to violate her, or kill her, or maybe both. He stood almost 6 and a half feet tall wearing a bloodstained wifebeater and orange jumpsuit stretched around his barrel-chested physique. The ground shook with every heavy step he took towards the helpless, trembling Catherine, who winced and curled into a fetal position having accepted her fate, her sole wish being that the mercenaries’ bullets would soon find her and tear through her body to end her suffering as quickly as possible.

“Oh, hi!”

A muffled shout erupted above her. Catherine’s eyes shot open to see that a damp pillowcase had been pulled over the man’s head and tied off at the neck with a makeshift rope made out of torn bedsheets. It all happened too quickly for her panicked mind to properly process, but in the blink of an eye someone - or something - had climbed up onto the man’s back, legs wrapped around him from behind as she stabbed him in the neck with reckless abandon. A fountain of blood spouted from the gaping perforation in his neck as he toppled over the railing end over end, limbs flailing wildly. All was silent for a second, then a resounding crunch echoed from below.

Catherine lay paralyzed on the floor of the cell, staring off blankly into the distance having apparently forgotten how to breathe. Her guardian angel, a brown-haired, brown-eyed girl who was taller and slender than herself, bent down and brushed Catherine’s snowy bangs to the side with a bloodied hand, the other loosely holding a shank made out of plastic utensils that had just tasted its first blood. “Are you okay? Can you walk?”

Catherine was swiftly stirred from her catatonic state with a backhand across the cheek. She gasped and locked her eyes with the irises of shimmering topaz of the other girl’s. “Y-yes!”

“What’s your name?”

“Catherine!”

“I’m Noelle. We need to get the hell out of here stat! There’s some trucks in the warehouse we can take. There isn’t much time left… I overheard some of them saying they’re gonna bring the whole place down! Let’s go!!”

Noelle took Catherine’s hand and pulled her back up. Hand in hand, they ran down chilly corridors of concrete and rusty catwalks that noisily clattered underfoot as ear-splitting gunshots and shouts, screams, gurgles echoed all around. Lifeless bodies were strewn all over the floor, riddled with bullet holes from which a dark liquid seeped onto their orange jumpsuits. Bullet holes and splatters of red adorned the walls around them. Whoever this girl was, prisoner or not, she knew this place like the back of her own hand.

They finally arrived at a large maintenance warehouse in a matter of minutes. The howling screams, gunfire, and explosions reverberated all around them, albeit somewhat less quietly now. “Are we here yet?” Catherine asked in between deep, almost heaving breaths, having just gone through the most intense physical exercise she’d experienced in weeks, if not months.

“We’re here, but…” Truck trailers loaded with various heavy machinery and forklifts were lined up neatly along both sides, but the trucks Noelle mentioned were nowhere to be found. “Damn it!” she shouted, more in annoyance than anything else. “I swear they had a bunch here… unless that backstabbing son of a bitch set me up! When I get my hands on his candy ass I’m gonna fuc…” while her words trailed off into unintelligible grumbles, her annoyance turned to anger with the clench of a fist. She suddenly turned to Catherine and smiled with reassurance, abandoning in an instant the facade of contempt she so quickly turned to. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out. Trust me! I’m- we’re getting out of here in one piece!”

“FREEZE!”

Catherine gasped and froze in place at the sound of the mercenary’s command and multiple rifles being raised. She could almost feel their laser sights piercing through her back. Mortified, she slowly looked over to her right, seeking any vestiges of comfort from Noelle who stared off into the distance in silence, not returning her gaze.

“Hands on your head, and get on your knees! Slowly!” he barked, inching closer and closer with his two remaining squadmates. The two girls had no choice but to comply, Catherine in particular struggling to squat down as the adrenaline started to wear off and the pain began setting in.

“Sir, what should we do?” shouted one of the other mercenaries, his voice noticeably younger than the first. The tip of his rifle trembled then lowered timidly as he looked to his squadmates. “They’re just kids!”

“You heard the man. Nobody gets outta this shithole alive,” spoke the first mercenary gruffly. “Command says they’re useless without the substrate and we have no idea where the hell that is, let alone if they even have any here. We’re disposing of them all.” Those last words tore Catherine’s heart apart as an imminent, inescapable dread filled her.

“W- what do we do?” Catherine’s whispers to Noelle betrayed her rapidly faltering composure, though it wasn’t much of a secret to begin with; she trembled uncontrollably as if she physically felt the very presence of death drawing near. Her words fell on deaf ears, the brunette simply staring off into the distance. There weren’t any tricks left up her sleeve, and Catherine seemed to understand this with a silent whimper of resignation.

The younger mercenary swallowed and remained silent as every fiber of his being and conscience fought against the orders he had been given. “Can’t we just-”

“You heard what I said!” The first mercenary lowered his rifle and grabbed his bitchy subordinate by the collar, pulling him close. “They ain’t worth the trouble. In fact, I’d even say we’re doing ‘em a massive favor! You, on the other hand, seem quite opposed to all this. You know what happens to those who disobey orders. Now do as I say and light them the fuck up or you’re next.”

Catherine’s tears stung like alkaline as they rolled down her rosy cheeks, her sobs drowning out the sound of the rifles being charged behind her. She closed her eyes and buried her face in Noelle’s shoulder and waited for the bullets to tear her body into shreds.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Catherine winced as a great blaring of horns sounded from behind. Not gunshots, a single train horn that seemed to drown out every other sound and even conscious thought. Noelle tackled Catherine out of harm’s way as the horn grew louder, followed by a displaced vortex of wind battering their bodies. The girls looked up and watched dumbfoundedly as an eight-wheeled armored truck barreled into their would-be executors at full speed, its wall-sized steel bumper sending them flying before their bodies were ground into a crunchy paste under massive 50-inch off-road tires. Whatever was left of their mangled remains was thrown up into the wheel wells and twisted into oblivion like pretzels, crushed bone and tattered viscera scattered everywhere.

The tan behemoth ground to a halt as its air brakes loudly hissed. Blood and congealed chunks of red dripped from the bumper and was splattered all over the front of the truck. Fearing the worst, Noelle swiped an AK from one of the bodies and aimed it at the driver’s side door as it slowly cracked open.

“Is that how you treat the person who just saved your ass?!” shouted the driver. “Ungrateful little shit!”

“Who the hell are you?” Noelle shouted back, keeping her rifle aimed at the open door.

The driver stepped out. It was a girl not much older than herself with auburn hair and freckles. She wore a white tank top under a red and white bodysuit, the top half of which was tied around her waist. Suddenly, one of the piles of twisted flesh and crushed bone previously belonging to the mercenaries gasped loudly with a choked gurgle, raising an arm towards the redhead. She drew a handgun from her leg holster and fired a single shot at his head that squelched in response. Silence rang out once more.

Noell’s eyes fixed on the driver’s suit and blinked in bewilderment as if she had been graced with a divine epiphany. She’d seen them all throughout her childhood, their distinctive designs burned into her mind from page after page of her father’s military magazines or hours upon hours of war documentaries.

“You’re…!” she gasped.

“You gonna keep staring like that or are you gonna get on?” There was a second girl inside, hidden from sight. “Come on!”

Not wasting any more time, Noelle and Catherine climbed inside the truck’s cabin. The thousand-pound door slammed shut behind them, and with an ascending growl of the massive turbodiesel V8, the truck quickly reversed out of the warehouse and smashed through a jammed shutter door as if it was a .50 BMG shell passing through a block of butter.

“Hold on!” The redhead’s shouts were barely audible over the howling of the 11-liter engine and its turbos that whistled like a banshee. She yanked the emergency brake and spun the steering wheel, causing all four girls to lurch to the side as the truck snapped about its vertical axis. Throwing the transmission in neutral and then drive as the truck ground to a rotational halt, she then stomped on the gas pedal. A primordial roar erupted from the exhaust as all eight tires gripped the pavement and sped through the airfield, launching the truck through a destroyed security checkpoint.

Noelle glued her face to the 2-inch thick bulletproof glass and watched as the base disappeared into the distance, multiple plumes of smoke rising from raging fires as helicopters circled overhead. The explosions and gunshots all around them quickly subsided and gave way to the omnipotent rumble of the diesel engine and all eight tires spinning through the rough trail of sand and rock.

“Is anyone following us?!” the redhead shouted, still alert.

“No. We might’ve been seen, but anyone who did is most likely too busy defending the base, let alone able to pursue us,” the dark-haired girl riding shotgun reasoned. She looked over her shoulder. “You two okay back there? Anyone hurt?” she asked the girls in the back.

“I twisted my ankle, but I’ll be fine.” Catherine sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes. “You saved us… thank you! Thank you so…” She tried smiling at the two girls in front then immediately burst into tears, sobbing loudly.

“There there, it’s okay, Catherine!” Noelle hugged the hysterical girl tightly. She buried her face in Noelle’s chest, muffling her wailing as her undershirt grew soaked with tears. As she stroked Catherine’s hair, she looked up at the two girls in front. “Who are you two, anyways?”

“We’re pilo-”

The dark haired girl elbowed the redhead.

“Ow! That hurt, you bitch!” she barked. The entire truck briefly jerked off-course as she recoiled in pain.

“We’re mechanics,” said the dark haired girl. She definitely had an accent, but Noelle couldn’t narrow it down to a locale more specific than Southeast Asia.

“Like hell you are! I’d recognize those suits anywhere! The 7-pin connector on the upper back, the electrode patches… you’re Ex Machina pilots, aren’t you?”

“…”

“Why aren’t you helping your buddies out back there? Going AWOL? Or could you be…” Noelle fell silent. “One of them?”

“If we were one of them, we wouldn’t have saved you, would we?” The dark-haired girl leaned over and cocked her head rhetorically inquisitively.

“Maybe you’re just trying to take us alive!”

“I’m sure those two guys we turned into tomato soup would agree!” The redhead snapped.

“True. Where are we even gOINg anyway?” Noelle asked, her voice raising as the truck bounced over a particularly large rock.

“I have no idea. Anywhere that isn’t here,” said the dark haired girl. “We can’t use GPS because they’ll track us down from our phone signals.”

“Maybe we can use the stars to help us navigate!” Noelle suggested.

“Do you know how to do that?” Just from the tone of her voice alone, Noelle could hear the dark-haired girl raising an eyebrow.

“…no… do you?”

“All we know is that we’re going south. We’ll eventually run into a highway and from there we’ll figure something out.”

Catherine and Noelle may have been saved from certain death by these two girls, but now what? The truck continued to careen down the rough desert trail, cutting through thick dried brush and flying over every surface irregularity with ease through the dead of the night. She couldn’t help but feel like the further they drove into uncharted lands, the closer they were approaching some event horizon that loomed closer and closer, accelerating them on an inescapable trajectory to their fates, whatever that may be.

If there was but one certainty she could take relief in, it was the fact that she would bear no reservations for the future and take everything in stride, come what may.

“Hey, by the way, what are your names?” she asked, leaning forwards and peeking at the two girls in front.


:date: 03/24/2023 - 3:00 AM PST

:round_pushpin: Great Basin Desert, Nevada, United States

“The fire in block C of the barrack’s west wing has been contained!”

“All remaining personnel have been accounted for! Rendezvous and await further orders!”

“All remaining hostile forces have been eliminated! Mobilize the rapid response team and form a perimeter around both sites! Scramble all aircraft!”

The vibrant orange and yellow plumes of flame that leaked into the starry canvas looming overhead had subsided to localized, dull glows that belched herculean clouds of smoke skyward. Helicopters and fighter aircraft had been continuously scrambled for the last half hour to search for any remaining survivors and eliminate any stragglers from the invading force.

A luxury helicopter flanked by an attack helicopter and two more gunships each carrying an entire complement of armed soldiers landed on the main airfield, the vortices from its rotors sending dust and sand flying all over the runway in a turbulent wind. A Seikatsu pickup truck screeched to a halt in front of the luxury helicopter as its side doors slid open. A girl wearing aviators and a black face mask hopped outside, her asymmetrical braided twintails flapping in the wake of wind created from the rotors above her head.

The driver of the pickup truck stepped outside and opened the passenger door for the girl, saluting to her as she stepped in. He ran back inside and the truck sped off to one of the damaged buildings containing the barracks, its rear tires shrieking and scrubbing against the scorched pavement. “Good to see you, boss,” he spoke with a relaxed tone that conveyed confidence yet urgency. “Just on time as usual. We’ve sustained heavy material and personnel losses in the attack. 177 casualties have been counted so far and the number is continuing to climb by the hour. The entire attacking force, 221 in total, is mostly accounted for and dead, but we’ve captured a few for questioning as you’ve requested. Over half of the 2000 onsite prisoners, however, were killed in the attack.”

“I knew this was coming.” The girl stared out the window as visions of smoldering wreckages and covered bodies being carried on stretchers into ambulances, or dumpsters, rolled by.

“E- excuse me, boss?”

“It was only a matter of time until something like this happened. I’m just surprised they sent so little.”

They sped through an underground tunnel connecting the north and south sites of the base, surfacing not a minute later into the north site. It wasn’t hit as badly in the attack but some buildings had still sustained heavy damage. The building they parked in front of in particular was hit on its west wing, leaving a gaping hole in the wall across multiple levels through which massive plumes of smoke rose.

“Here we are.” The pickup truck’s diesel engine rattled to a stop and the glow of its reflector lights faded away as the driver and the girl stepped out, closing the doors behind them. The driver swept his hand across the building from the relatively intact east side to the not-so-intact west side. “We’re still running the numbers, but so far all personnel in the east wing have been accounted for.”

“Good.” The girl adjusted her sunglasses as they walked up the stairs to the entrance. The door was waiting for them, already open. Chaos would be a tame descriptor for the scene unfolding inside the barracks. Debris and broken glass were scattered all over the floors, their white luster having been lost under a layer of dust that had settled. Medics carried wounded personnel out of the building in stretchers and hundreds more in varying states of injury lined the walls and walked about, helping clear the wreckage and move bodies around.

As soon as the girl stepped inside, however, it was as if someone had risen from their coffin at their own funeral. Every pair of eyes focused on her, every able body immediately saluting before she belted out an “ATTENTION!” with a booming voice that betrayed her small frame. The commotion had been silenced in one fell swoop.

The girl and the driver, evidently her second-in-command, slowly walked deeper and deeper into the barracks. The presence with which she carried herself demanded a fear out of the men around her. Not a fear that arose from danger, but a fear that was more akin to a deep respect and naturally inherited a devout following not unlike that of a cult. Even those who had been so badly injured they could hardly stand or remain still saluted as she passed by, earning them a rare nod of acknowledgement that eased their pain.

Finally, they arrived at a women’s bathroom. Two exceptionally strong and tall soldiers held up a gravely injured mercenary by the arms, one of his legs hanging on by a single sinewy thread. “Here’s one of the enemy combatants we’ve captured,” her second-in-command spoke. “Would you-”

BANG!

The mercenary’s head flung back in two loose flaps of red, painting the tiled wall behind him in a flurry of red and gray chunks that dribbled down slowly. Even the two soldiers flinched in surprise as they dropped his body to the floor with a wet slap. The girl swiftly turned around and walked out, holstering the still-smoking revolver as she continued walking down the hallway.

“…and here we are,” announced the second-in-command as they stopped before a long corridor leading into a well-furnished common room. A sign reading “VTR-51 Strike Bitches” hung from the ceiling. 22 young women in tank tops wearing colored jumpsuits tied around their waists lined both sides of the corridors, each one standing next to one of the 12 doors in pairs. The oldest couldn’t have been older than 24.

As soon as the twintailed girl stepped into view, they immediately turned to her and saluted. “At ease, girls,” she said calmly. With open arms, she smiled warmly at the girls under her facemask. “It makes me so happy seeing you’re all in one piece!”

“Sha- boss…” sniffed one of the girls near the middle. Her curly, shoulder-length hair bounced as her shoulders twitched with every sob. “I’m sorry… I’ve failed as a pilot! I couldn’t defend the base… I couldn’t save them! Bec- because of my failure… others have died!”

“Shut up, you conceited bitch!” her partner whispered.

The twintailed girl, evidently known as ‘Boss’ around these parts, approached the distraught girl with booming steps from her boots that made the other girls shudder. She was so wrought with shame that she couldn’t even bring herself to look at Boss in the eye, burying her face into her hands, teetering on the edge of breaking out into full-on wailing. She gasped as Boss suddenly hugged her tightly, gently patting her on the head and feeling the soft locks of her curly hair between her fingers.

“There, there,” she cooed. “Everything’s okay.” Those four words were like a ballistic missile to the Three Gorges Dam. If she wasn’t crying before, the curly-haired girl was wailing now. Her less compassionate partner merely rolled her eyes.

“SHACHOU!!!” screamed a male voice.

“WHAT is it?” She shouted at first, lowering her voice as to not disturb her beloved Strike Bitch. She snapped her head in the direction of the disturbance. A soldier stepped out of one of the doors. Specifically, the door which had no pair of girls standing nearby. “Two pilots are unaccounted for!”

Boss, also evidently known as ‘Shachou,’ pried herself free from the crying Strike Bitch’s tight embrace and stormed over to the unattended door. Stepping inside, she immediately knew what had happened to the pilots. The room was neatly prepared (even the bed was made!) but entirely devoid of all personal belongings. The bathroom was similarly empty. Though these two pieces of evidence, however damning, might have been inconclusive, Shachou realized something else about the room, a third something that was particularly damning.

“GIRLS!” Shachou’s booming yet high-pitched, even nasally, voice was always startling for anyone within earshot. She exited the abandoned private quarters and slowly walked past all the other girls, arms folded as she eyed them down one by one. “It appears that two of your colleagues… are lost. They are not missing. They are most certainly not dead. No, it is something far worse!” Her spoken word had turned from a mere utterance to almost a raspy, guttural snarl. “They have lost their sense of duty. They have lost purpose. And consequently, they have lost their purpose within us.” She launched a clenched fist skywards. “Those that fail to share the vision of Black Rabbit are no better than dogs or rats that feed from and filter through filth! Those who are led astray… they are forever disavowed by Black Rabbit, forever bound by shame until death!”

Shachou turned around to face the girls one last time before leaving.

“The weak, the sickened, and the lost must be culled to ensure the survival of the others. Girls, you’ve got some hunting to do.”



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"BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT BLACK RABBIT


Dossier

Lorelei Emmerling Rothbauer

Age 20 (DOB: July 2002)

Height 1.65m

Nationality :austria:

Affiliation Black Rabbit Corp., 88th Armored Division "Desert Rrats," VTR-51 "Strike Bitches" [DISAVOWED]

Cars 1973 Diomedes Phoenix Laguna Seca TR-454, 1993 Zeiss J12 5.7, 1999 Graf-Zeppelin SC700 V12 Roadster "Blackbird"

Wanted Dead or alive, preferably the latter

Bio Lorelei is an ace pilot who previously worked for the infamous private military company Black Rabbit Corp. and is now one of the co-leaders of Team [Black Rabbit Disavowed] and their main driver. Hardworking and equally stubborn, she prefers to get things done her way and believes she’s the only person competent enough to lead the team to victory. Frequently butts heads with Mona as a result of her arrogance.

Extended Bio

She was born and raised into a life of wealth; her father is a chief research officer in defense contractor McIntosh Kinetic System’s skunkworks program and her mother founded fast food chain “Klara’s Broiled Firebird (KBF),” extremely popular in the United States and southeast Asia. Some might think such a privileged upbringing would yield only the most spoiled of children, but this was far from the case. Just like her parents, she had to make sacrifices and put in the same amount of work her parents did in order to enjoy her own share of success. As a result of this upbringing, imbued within her is a staunch resolve only rivaled by her fiery attitude.

She excelled in her studies, but found academia and research uninteresting, nor was she particularly keen on running the family fast food business either. She needed not only a thrill but a greater purpose she believed in and could work - or fight - for. After hearing about Black Rabbit Corp.’s controversial activities and the vision of its founder, she dropped out of university and enlisted in their land-based combat branch as a combat pilot, quickly becoming one of their best. Upon the personal request of Black Rabbit’s Shachou, Lorelei was placed in the elite VTR-51 “Strike Bitches” special forces squadron, itself a part of the “Desert Rrats [sic]” armored division feared for their brutality, coordination, and efficiency. Though it was far from glamorous work, Lorelei found it strangely therapeutic as much as she found it thrilling. All she had to do was follow orders, so it was nice to just get told what to do instead of worrying about the future or where she was going in life.

Although she was born in Germany, she was raised and spent much of her life in Austria, and thus considers herself as such. Highly passionate, focused, and dedicated in everything she does, and as a result, can be very competitive and even hostile at times. She’s learned not to rely on others and to get things done herself. Outside of work or any competitive environment, she’s energetic, outgoing, and sometimes behaves erratically, but genuinely cares for those who are close to her and looks out for them.

Fond of Japanese culture and enjoys cosplaying; she has an Instagram page with ~500k followers, where she uploads her photoshoots. Was popular in high school and university, but her strict parents prevented her from going on as many dates as she would’ve liked.


Mona

Age unknown, early 20s (DOB: February 2000-2004)

Height 1.65m

Nationality :indonesia:

Affiliation Black Rabbit Corp., 88th Armored Division "Desert Rrats," VTR-51 "Strike Bitches" [DISAVOWED]

Cars 1998 Hinode Bison 1800

Wanted Dead or alive, preferably the latter

Bio Mona is the second co-leader of Team [Black Rabbit Disavowed] and the team’s co-driver and navigator. She was also an ace pilot working for Black Rabbit Corp. but was recruited into their pilot program against her will after they kidnapped her. She may appear quiet and reserved at first, but when the situation demands (or when Lorelei’s giving her shit again) she can be just as assertive and confident while remaining humble.

Extended Bio

Not much is known about Mona besides the fact that she’s a college student who does gigs for model and idol work on the side to pay for study expenses. She was “recruited” (see: kidnapped) by Shachou in 2020, who took a personal liking to her after watching her perform at a local concert in Jakarta. Strangely, Mona grew close to her captor and even became fond of her. Even stranger was the fact that Mona’s dancing skills, honed from years of rigorous training and performing at venues, apparently carried over quite well to piloting. Impressed by her rapid progress and natural adeptness, Shachou promoted Mona and placed her in the VTR-51 “Strike Bitches” all-female elite squadron, where she was Lorelei’s copilot. Although pilots must be well-synchronized for optimal performance, the two girls did not get along very well at first and were even hostile at times. As they went on more operations together, they grew more comfortable with each other, although to call them anything more than colleagues would be foolish.

Her mother is Indonesian and her father is Chinese. She has a younger brother in middle school who gets on her nerves sometimes, but no matter what happens they always make it up to each other. She’s currently learning English and Japanese and is still rusty in both, but making quick progress.


Catherine Ridley

Age 25 (DOB: March 1998)

Height 1.57m

Nationality :us:

Affiliation n/a

Occupation Nursing student, paramedic

Cars 1993 CAL CV2500SD Ambulance, 1999 CAL Raider II Desperado RZ5

Wanted Alive

Bio Although Catherine - arguably the most normal person on the entire team - joined Black Rabbit Disavowed of her own volition, the circumstances that forced her decision were not, making her question if she really had a choice in the end after all. Not only is she the team’s paramedic, she’s one of the few things keeping everyone (mostly Lorelei and Mona) together and the sole voice of reason.

Extended Bio

Born and raised in Bakersfield, California, she now lives in Los Angeles for her university’s nursing program. Strongly prefers to avoid conflict. Exhibits strong big sister vibes according to friends because she’s very approachable and compassionate, yet not afraid to show a bit of tough love if that’s what it takes. Having endured a rough childhood including her parents divorcing and a toxic relationship a few years back, she can occasionally have trust issues. In spite of this, she’s never quick to make judgements and she has a capacity for forgiveness, though she isn’t as considerate to the few who have especially wronged her beyond redemption. She can also seemingly de-escalate any tense situation.

She was captured by Black Rabbit Corp. during the infamous “Yellowstone” incident and was held as a prisoner of war for some months before being freed by pilots Lorelei and Mona.

As a nursing student working part time as a paramedic, Catherine volunteered to serve a similar role in Black Rabbit Disavowed to express her gratitude for Lorelei and Mona for rescuing her and Noelle. She’s experienced enough to treat team members’ injuries even during a rally stage, but given the conditions of Shitbox Rally, the lack of modern medical equipment will pose unique challenges for her to work around. She dreams of converting her ambulance into a camper and going on a road trip across the continental United States, but needs the time and money to do so (and some friends to go with).


Noelle Markman Porter

Age 19 (DOB: November 2003)

Height 1.70m

Nationality :us:

Affiliation n/a

Occupation Economy student

Cars 1998 Hephaestus Apache Sport 4x4

Wanted Alive

Bio Noelle is Black Rabbit Disavowed’s wild card. Highly unpredictable, there exists no absolute certainty concerning whatever goes on in her mind or what her ulterior motives are. If Catherine is the one who calms the team down, Noelle’s the one who riles everyone back up. But her hair-trigger tendencies aren’t a detriment to the team’s performance or its members; if anything, her chaotic nature might be her greatest asset. She can think on her feet and is extremely opportunistic, favoring high-risk, high-reward approaches. The other girls would agree that Noelle’s modus operandi is bold, if not reckless, but her energy and call to action is often the push that everyone needs.

Extended Bio

She was born and raised in Tacoma, Washington. Exhibits strong girl-next-door vibes. Upon first glance, she appears to be a very sweet, straightforward girl with a bit of sass, although some will note the odd sadistic and almost psychopathic episode from time to time.

She usually wears preppy or modern Japanese/Korean-inspired outfits, though she had an “edgy Hot Topic” phase back in the day. She has a penchant for gossip and likes to start shit between friend and foe alike. Likes pickle soda. Frequently gets road rage due to her impatience and short temper. Like Lorelei, she is also an only child. Usually sings in a higher register, but because she enjoys 2000s punk rock and a large variety of other genres, she can sing a few octaves lower as well. Enjoys karaoke parties with friends and has an unusually powerful voice given her small frame.

Like Catherine, Noelle was also captured during the “Yellowstone” incident then rescued during Lorelei’s and Mona’s defection. Although she doesn’t fulfill any particular role within the team, she is unusually knowledgeable about consumer electronics, the tech and defense industries, military technology, military tactics, military history, psychological warfare, and torture methods.




11 Likes

Team Shift Happens

Prologue, Part 1
Prologue, Part 2
Prologue, Part 3
Powering Up
Driver’s Log 2

April 1, 2023, Shitbox Rally Starting Location, Nevada, 10:00 AM


The Drivers Meeting

Malavera looked out over the crowd of drivers, standing on top of the Home Unit’s rear cargo platform to make himself visible to everyone. He thought back over the arrivals yesterday, the tech inspections he’d performed, the mix of vehicles that would be running soon. Everything from Team M.A.D. getting some mirrors attached to their vehicle in the parking area, to the Sinesian Rejects’ “Frankencar” were now considered legal. Some vehicles clearly were proper shitboxes, one truck returned from the year before, there were a couple of airplane-engined monsters out in the field, a very-wide military truck, and a few large vehicles for good measure.

Realizing everyone was standing there waiting for him, courtesy of Kayden warning them all, “If you don’t shut up, I’ll make Kaylie’s roar yesterday sound quiet,” Malavera mentally prepared his driver’s meeting speech.

“Welcome, everyone, to the second annual Shitbox Rally! Like last year, I hope there will be many more to go after this one. Unlike last year, where I had the drivers’ meeting early and let things sit for a while, this year, we’re doing the meeting before we go. Kaylie, Jayde, and Rukari are currently passing out rings for your team members. Yes, this is why your application form asked for your ring size. Last year, these were copper, this year, we had them made in braided silver after some concerns that copper turns people’s fingers green. These rings are important, as first and foremost, they are going to allow you to communicate with the locals. Second, they act as a tracking beacon for our team, so if you’re stalled and need a rescue, we know you’re stuck. Third, they act as an emergency teleport back to here. This time, we’ve ensured that, yes, you will be transported back here, not to wherever you think home is. We’ll have a few people checking in on the campsite every few hours in case people have had to use it.”

He took a deep breath, then continued, “To use the ring, turn it while it’s on your finger and say “I want to go home” three times within 15 seconds. Jayde assures us that this time, the teleportation will not damage your vehicles, and so each person can use their one-way teleport safely. The last person to leave will bring the car with them. In the case of two car teams, it’s the last two people. Also, and this was mentioned by Kivenaal, do not, under any circumstances, use the teleport ring in the Rift. As he put it, “Trying to find where all the pieces of you ended up could be a real pain.” You’ll also find that Kayden is handing out folders with maps inside. These are the “recommended” routes, of course, but if you find a shortcut, you’re free to try taking it. However, Kivenaal has mentioned many of these are already the fastest route to take.”

Malavera took another deep breath, then added, “With that out of the way, let’s get into the rules, shall we? The big one is called, “Don’t be a dick.” If someone’s stuck in the ditch or has their hood open, or calls out for help over the radio, remember, this isn’t exactly a race. It’s better to stop and help someone out than it is to blow their doors off while hanging a moon out of your window and blaring an air horn. After all, you might be the next one broken down, and I’m sure you want someone to help you out when you have car trouble. The second rule was mentioned in the email, but for those who only skimmed it, or have forgotten in the long months since that event, it’s “Leave nothing but your tire tracks.” Don’t throw your garbage all over the world. Don’t chuck broken spare parts into the woods. Now, we’re not going to go out of our way to insist that, if you’ve had a catastrophic failure and parts came flying out, that every part must be picked up, but if you’ve had a spark plug get mechanically regapped by the piston, or an air-filter get clogged up, don’t throw those parts. Store them away and either dispose of them in a garbage can, or take them back home. If you’re eating food from plastic containers or drinking beverages from aluminum cans, make sure they end up in the garbage. The locals will not be happy at finding Mudweiser cans in their river, or Tasti-Cola bottles tossed onto the roadside.”

Malavera then glanced over the field, locking eyes with a couple of people in the crowd. “Last year, those were basically all the rules, but this year, we have to mention a few more. It shouldn’t have to be said, “Do not drink and drive,” but last year, someone did. Last year, that someone got their team ejected from the competition. This year, if someone does that, well… One, not just will they be banned from Shitbox Rally for life, Jayde has mentioned he will personally make sure that you spend the next 3 Aetheriian years in a Nehmenweld jail cell, as that is Nehmenweld’s punishment for “Drunken Operation of a Motorized Vehicle.” For those of you thinking 3 years sounds a bit short,” Malavera said, pausing so Jayde could take over in that moment.

“By your years, I am 54 years old. By the years I’ve counted for most of my life, however, I am a bit over 35,” Jayde said.

“For those less mathematically inclined, that means one of their years is a bit over a year and a half here,” Malavera said. “Another rule is that you are not, under any circumstances, to bump any of the four steam cars or their trailers while in the convoy. Not just will you piss off Val, you’ll piss off me. Val might cut your team off from power and demand you go home. I might break your legs first before Kivenaal sends you home. Likewise, I’d advise not bumping into the HD-GV units or their trailers. Kasiya is very proud of the deal he got on them, and he was the one who had them painted. If you scratch or scuff the paint, well… We’ve been working with him on when it’s okay to confront people, and if you really want 500 kilograms of 3 meter tall werewolf pissed off at you, go right ahead and bump those trucks. Last, but not least, do not mess with our camp lights. If you short out the lighting circuit and trip the breaker, we’re leaving the camp in the dark. Have fun finding the shit-house when you can’t see it, and while it’s dark, pray we don’t encounter any local wildlife.”

Malavera then decided to wrap up the meeting. “Now, we’re starting at 12:00 PM. You can call it noon, or 1200 hours if you prefer those terms instead. When we enter or exit the Rift, you need to be single-file. The door isn’t wide enough for people to go through two-at-a-time safely. While we’re in the Rift, we will be driving in a convoy, at 55 miles per hour. If anyone needs fuel, we’ll stop and fill up from onboard reserves. If anyone breaks down, we’ll stop and try to help out. With all of that said, we’ve got one hour and 42 minutes before we have to leave, so, get your brunch going, pack your supplies, stow your power cables, make sure your cars are ready to go. I think that’s about everything.”

Kasiya, standing there in his light gray armor, looked out over the crowd, then said to Malavera, "You forgot to tell them, “Good luck and have fun!”

Malavera face-palmed both of his heads, then said, “As the armored werewolf said, Good luck, stay safe, and have fun!”

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Team VSmgAB & Team Shift Happens

Prologue 3.1
Prologue 3.2
Campsite Power Speech
Friendship! :D’s sentient cars.


Pre-Race Camp


April 1st, 2023, Shitbox Rally Starting Location, Nevada, 08:57 AM

Takaraya groaned as he got out of bed, having had his first proper night in the Home Unit. The climate control system had done wonders to keep the interior at a comfortable temperature through the night. He pulled on his uniform clothes, then opened the door and headed toward the trailer attached to his vehicle, opening the roll-up door and grabbing the plate of leftover burgers from yesterday’s cookout.

He made his way back to the Home Unit, popping a couple of burgers into the microwave and turning it on. A moment later, the microwave, climate control, and LED strip lighting suddenly shut off. Takaraya sighed, set the plate down, then headed back outside to talk with Valentin.

He first checked to make sure the plug was still connected, and it was, then approached Valentin and, looking a bit guilty, admitted, “Valentin, I… Might have tripped one of our breakers. Left our climate control on and tried to reheat a burger.”

For Valentin and the remainder of the team, the morning was relatively uneventful, especially considering that Valentin was already awake at about 6AM, joined shortly thereafter by Norse. Breakfast was crude, but functional, consisting of what loosely could be called “bread”, but actually was closer to a bread-shaped cracker with minimal toppings.
Soon after, they were joined by the ‘speshul forces’ and Constantin, who themselves also had breakfast of similar quality, albeit with more variety.

Thus, a little circle formed around Robert the Generator Railcar, with completely random chit-chat between the various members and Mary being lost in fantasies again, even if Valentin remained awkwardly quiet.

At this point, an unexpected, yet totally familiar click came from within Robert, prompting Valentin to check. Sure enough, circuit breaker #3 was tripped, belonging to Shift Happens.
Now realizing his mistake of welding the driver-side rear door shut, he unfurled himself from the other rear door, already noticing Takaraya on his way here.

“That happens. Did you turn off the overload or otherwise ensure that it won’t immediately trip when i try and re-enable it?” Valentin inquired with a voice about as hoarse as one would have after 40 years of extensive chain-smoking.

Takaraya smiled lightly, then admitted, “Climate control is still on, but we lost power when I tried to reheat breakfast in the microwave.” He understood that Val’s voice was rough as hell after yesterday’s events, he’d even half-expected that to happen.

Valentin just raised a finger, indicating to Takaraya to wait for a moment, after which Valentin went around to the other side, crawling through what once was the rear bench and over to the breaker panel. With the breakers being a simple switch, re-establishing power was not hard at all, as he closed the acrylic lid back up and reappeared from within the car.
“Should be good.” he said, now even garnering interest from the remaining group.

“You sound like absolute dogshit…” William commented, remembering what Valentin should sound like.
“Tell that to Kaylie and the sentient cars.” Valentin replied, trying his best to avoid elaborate wording in an attempt to not make the situation worse than it already is.
“Sentient cars!?”, William, Rohan and Hans called out, somewhat in unison and immediately getting up to look around for them without luck.
“Yeeeah… you’ll see at the driver meeting.” Norse added, filling in for Valentin in this case.
The group of soldiers just looked at each other, then at Constantin for confirmation.
“Get all the intel you can. You did not try and thus stayed oblivious.” He commented in a tone of elitism, which was not particularly well received by the recruits.

“Yeah, those sentient cars are the reason my son is suited up in his environmental-protection suit today,” Takaraya grumbled. “He brought it with him because that suit is the chassis for his AI assistant, Layara. He’s worn it once before, and that was to park it in the Carry All. Now he’s wearing powered armor out of nerves and fear. Because what we really need is the 500 kilogram wolf running around in 1100 kilograms of armor. He probably weighs as much as some cars here do, and that’s concerning, because while he is trained to use it, he doesn’t necessarily remember about the extra weight. Thankfully, he sticks to the vehicles, and they’re built for people to wear armor and drive them.”

He then looked to Valentin and said, “Thank you for taking care of the breaker. I’ll try to remember in the future to turn the climate control off before trying to reheat food.”

From Valentin’s point of view, the conversation was ended with a simple thumbs-up as he returned to the others.

More talking between the others with usable voices followed until 10AM, where the driver’s meeting was set to take place.
As such, they all got up and headed over to the HD-GV Home Unit and watched Malavera do his thing before returning to their cars, each of them wearing their respective language and teleport rings.

With the important things done and departure time approaching, each half of VSmgAB went about packing up what needed packing up, the military half of which unplugging early to ‘get it done’.

At about 9:30AM, Valentin disabled power supply to anyone who was still plugged in by that time, followed by him unplugging any remaining cable, leaving them there for the customer teams to fetch.
What followed were the last preparations to the trailers and cars before they were to head through the rift.

3 Likes

Stage 0:

SR Starting Area to Shiverwind Point through the Rift

Camp Challenge: None.


Temperature during the stage: 20°C

Temperature in Camp: -5°C

Nighttime Low: -10°C

Weather Conditions:
In the Rift, the weather is dead calm, with a cloudy dark blue sky, very slightly humid. Due to it being the Rift, conditions are rock-solid and don’t change at all for the duration of the stage.

Once at camp, the weather immediately changes to be substantially colder, with gusts causing noticeable windchill, but otherwise relatively calm winds. It doesn’t snow or rain until we depart the next morning.


For those returning from the year before, driving into the Rift was, well, not exactly a routine experience, but at least vaguely familiar. For the new ones, it was surprisingly nerve-wracking, having to drive into an oversized metal shed that was clearly not big enough to hold half of one of the giant trucks, a shed they’d all had a chance to wander around and look at, a shed that now opened up into a vivid, dark-blue portal.

First to drive through was Kasiya behind the wheel of his Carry-All, carefully guiding the huge vehicle with its refrigerated box and refrigerated trailer through the opening. Then Takaraya followed him with the RV and the second trailer, the two vehicles rumbling down the road at a decent pace.

Then, those who had experienced the trip the previous year decided they’d go as well. They were followed by the new arrivals, with the last car cruising in and the garage door closing soon after, dropping everyone into the Rift’s navy-blue embrace.

Several times along the trip, stops were made to allow for onboard refuels, with Takaraya reminding everyone, “If you did not bring enough fuel, the cost is $20 per gallon from our tank.” Likewise, there was a rather long stop caused by several breakdowns that happened pretty much at once.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we reached the other side. Kasiya rolled quietly through the now-open door into the arctic hellscape that was Nehmenweld’s southernmost civilized point. Any further south, and it’d be in the Southern Icefield. Cars equipped with thermometers rapidly announced the plummeting outside temperature as it plunged down to -6°C. What couldn’t be easily told was the -15°C wind chill until it became time to make camp. For some, this came as an unpleasant surprise. Nevada had been warm and the Rift had given us all a cool, moist reprieve from the desert sun. As soon as everyone arrived at Shiverwind Point, we found out just how brutal the cold could be when a sudden gust blew through and chilled everyone to their bones.

Like the year before, we chose to set up camp after our long drive through the Rift. The brutal conditions made pitching tents quite unpleasant, in some cases quite dangerous, but with a bit of effort and a gratuitous amount of foul language, most people had at least some form of shelter prepared. By the time the sun began to set, everyone had a place to stay, even if some of those places had to be bargained for, or relied on friendships to make it happen.


Next Stage Expected Conditions:
Road Speed: low
Road Condition: moderate
Traffic: low
Police: high


Deadline for Top-Gear-Mode and/or Aggression changes: 9PM GMT, April 3rd.


@Madrias

###Team Shift Happens

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Support

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 2 / 2

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

HD-GV Home-Unit:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

HD-GV Carry-All:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Being experienced with this sort of thing brought a certain amount of confidence to the team. Kasiya took the lead and lit the way the best he could, the full brightness of the HD-GV Carry-All’s headlights tearing through the darkness. Just behind him, Takaraya maintained a safe distance between Kasiya’s trailer and the HD-GV Home-Unit he was driving. The 55 mile per hour drive, of course, was interrupted a couple of times by refueling and breakdowns.


@Elizipeazie:

VS Mobil Generator AB

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Support

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 1 / 1

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

VS 221S “Robert”:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

VS 221S “Regina”:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Val and his three other drivers carefully piloted their priceless steam cars into the Rift, taking care not to ding up the trailers on the way in. Once inside, it was relatively peaceful, at least, until everyone else’s troubles started.


@Fayeding_Spray

Team M.A.D.

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Top-Gear

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 3 / 3

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Walkenhorst UtilXL FireRescue:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Sakura Citrine LWB:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Urijah and Victoria made sure everyone had cameras rolling before the car passed through the gateway and into the Rift. They documented every breakdown, every fuel stop, and even the last minute changes of clothing being done as soon as the second gateway opened, a bitter cold reminding them that, yes, they had just driven “faster than light.”


@Shibusu

Team Sinesian Rejects

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Top-Gear

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 3 / 6

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Ilaris Imbe Sport S 1.3:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Ilaris Itan Base:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Ianis, as soon as he had the opportunity, floored the ute. He ended up having to slam on the brakes once he realized there wasn’t really room to overtake, not after Kasiya saw his attempt to slingshot past everyone and casually let his giant truck drift into both lanes. TJ was a bit more restrained, settling in with people in front and people behind, hoping like hell they didn’t become the aluminum-and-blood filling in a truck sandwich.


@Interior

Team Not-So-Slow

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Single

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 3

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Schnell L30 1.9 SE Executive:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Izzy and Matt had some understanding of what the Rift was, so they headed in without any worries. Other than some breakdowns from the others turning the Rift into a parking lot a couple of times, things went well.


@TheYugo45GV

The Ambassadors

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Top-Gear

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 2 / 2

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Ivera Executive LXT:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Mayland Ambassador:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: Tires

Time lost to breakdown: 01:35:29

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Karl had more knowledge than Landon with regards to the Rift, not that he knew a lot about it. However, this meant Landon hesitated, ever so slightly, and let Karl take the lead in the Mayland Ambassador. Landon settled in just behind it, two comfortable cars from two different eras cruising along until Karl blew a tire. Turns out, rusty lug nuts are a real pain to remove, and having supplies sitting on the spare tire makes it that much more of a chore to fix a flat.


@Doot

The Knockouts

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Top-Gear

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 6 / 1

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

1325 Facelift:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Papillona 606 S:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Kate and Octavia settled into a comfortable cruise, just getting used to the casual pace of everyone in the Rift. It was peaceful, even when other people had breakdowns to fix.


@MrdjaNikolen

Team Mravolinski-Chitco

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Support

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 1 / 1

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Saguaro T-REE 2000 Wagon:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Kontir Cunningham 1.9:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Mat and Amanda lead their cars into the Rift after Pi mentioned that it “was safe last year.” When other people had breakdowns, the crew tried their best to give some help where it was needed.


@Jaimz68

Team HETS

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Support

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 3 / 3

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Franklin HiWay Rally:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

FM VanGo:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Spanners, Mopey, Gran, and Nanna set forth in their two cars like adventurers on a quest. Every time they had to stop, there were, of course, the inevitable questions, stories, or other little quirks of traveling with two “old people” in the cars.

@AMuteCrypt

Team Flaming Gallahs

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Single

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 1

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Priscilla II:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Slow and steady wins the race. Whenever the group stopped for fuel or repairs, they helped out by providing music for the people stuck wrenching or juggling jerry cans of fuel.

@Edsel

Team Friendship! :smiley:

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Single

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 2

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Bazard E-Series:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

After several stops and watching a few hasty repairs being made, the bus exits the Rift and rolls into Nehmenweld.


@Knugcab

Team Hillbilly Rollers

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Support

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 2 / 2

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

IP Rugger 4x4:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: Powertrain

Time lost to breakdown: 05:11:56

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Sanju MDM44 “Wolverine”:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Things were going very well until Andreas fried the clutch in the IP Rugger. Thankfully, they had spare parts, and even more thankfully, they were able to enlist the help of Kasiya and Takaraya to act in place of a proper lift. Marie, of course, complains that if she didn’t have to drive, she could have had five hours of chugging beers instead of sitting there watching them fix a broken car. Arne, on the other hand, is just glad that they’re stopped as Marie’s gear changes were as smooth and graceful as a brick in a washing machine.


@Odyssey_Fan

Team Sane Insanity

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Support

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 5 / 2

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

KKR S2:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: Chassis

Time lost to breakdown: 3:59:57

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Roadmaster Voyage:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

It was more fun revving the hell out of the mid-engine sports car than expected. This was counterbalanced by the nerve-wracking nature of trying to not get scuffs or scratches on the rental minivan while grouped up in a horde of other vehicles, many of which were in rough enough condition to not care about yet-another-baseball-sized-dent in the bodywork. The fun “Rev the engine” game came to a sudden stop, however, when one of the half-shafts fell out. Almost 4 hours later, the car was on the move again.


@PortalKat42

Faolan Industries

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Support

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 3 / 3

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Aether 52 H:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Aether 11/2:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Ze’ev and Storm set off on their voyage with the two oldest-looking cars in the camp. Thankfully, there were no breakdowns for them.


@AndiD

Team Taciturn

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Single

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 3

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Mara Irena 2.0 UR:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

The two cloaked aliens escaped into the Rift, their cheap Mara proving to be more reliable already than some of the competition.


@BannedByAndroid

Team ReUnity

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Single

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 6

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Ursula F5 400I cross 4x4:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Anthony took the wheel for this stage, driving cleanly around a pack of other drivers.


@SheikhMansour

Team Spy Kids

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Top-Gear

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 4 / 4

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Reekayns B210:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Mocabey Pioneer XL:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: Tires

Time lost to breakdown: 00:21:32

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

It was fun until it wasn’t. Turns out, the low tire was low enough that it came out of the bead and had to be swapped out until you can get the tire seated again.


@IDK158

Team J3

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Support

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 4 / 2

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Tiharris Summer V6 J3:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 1

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:10:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Rhien Willow SR50 Turbo J3:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

It’s an interesting start to the rally, watching all these other people having breakdowns. About the only bit of excitement was a close call when Jacia almost rear-ended Johnny and Jackie.


@JCurtiss96 & @Leone

Team Aeromad

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Support

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 3 / 3

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Juggernaut 862 Custom Aeromad:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Torrento Providence II Aeromad:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 2

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:20:00

Breakdown: Powertrain

Time lost to breakdown: 04:57:05

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Ah, the joys of using crashed airplane parts in your vehicles. It turns out that the massive 994ci V12 in the muscle car needed a little bit of tuning to get it running right, and after almost 5 hours of tinkering, luckily nearby the guys who fried their clutch, the V12 is roaring like a tiger.


@Tzuyu_main & @FallingComet

Team Black Rabbit Disavowed

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Top-Gear

Distance Traveled: 177.6Miles

Aggression: 5 / 5

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Seikatsu Diesel Galactic:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Dauer 836RS Darien:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Not much is happening for the Black Rabbit crew. It’s mostly a bunch of waiting around while a couple people fix broken cars.

@Texaslav

Sheriff Scott’s Posse

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Support

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 4 / 4

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Warren Warlock FH:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Bowie Bearcat:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: Tires

Time lost to breakdown: 03:13:45

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

With no one to chase and no need to rush, they settle in behind a few other cars and try to enjoy the trip.


@Xepy

Team “486”

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Support

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 6 / 6

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Kaufmann Viera Custom:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Kaufmann Kleinbus Custom:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

It was a fairly boring drive for the team, just mostly following the other cars. Well, when they weren’t waiting on cars to be fixed, that is.


@S_U_C_C_U_L_E_N_T

Team Magdelena

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Top-Gear

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 3 / 4

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Baumhauer 423 Vier Group A:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Hinode Rusa Ambulance:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

There is a certain joy in driving an old ambulance. One of those joys is driving with the lights on and the siren screaming. Even if you’re stuck in the equivalent of rush-hour traffic, it doesn’t get old.


@SurrealCereal

Team Machinas Con Passione

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Top-Gear

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 4 / 6

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Mercedes Blue Wonder Alessio:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 1

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:10:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Faenza Spirito SP-C:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 1

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:10:00

Breakdown: Tires

Time lost to breakdown: 00:10:54

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Celebrations go around among the crew this time. When some of the new guys ask what all the cheering is about, Giacomo explains that this year, they only had to refuel once in the Rift, whereas last year, it was twice. In his excitement, he kicks the dry-rotted tire on the Faenza, accidentally popping it. Almost 11 minutes later, a slightly-less-shit tire is on the car.


@GetWrekt01 & @That-S-Cop

Cunning Stunts

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Support

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 3 / 3

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

VHT Supermobile (Sand Hopper):

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Contra UTE:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

There’s a certain special feeling you get, tailgating a rental minivan in a giant truck. You know he’s not going to brake check you, he’d end up having to buy the van. And so it’s fun to cruise along, trying to see just how close to the bumper that you can get without touching it.


@EnCR

Team Till D End

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Support

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 3 / 1

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

JMX Linx Turbo Injection:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Avantii Trailduster Camper:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Between the Rift turning into a parking lot for several hours and the knowledge that you had a camper, there were serious considerations about whether or not it’d be worth getting a nap in while a few people fixed the clutch they blew up and the engine that was running like crap.


@LS_Swapped_RX-7

Basedworks

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Support

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 3 / 6

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Basedworks RV:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

MCMOTD:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: In Convoy, Helping Others

Time lost to breakdown: 00:00:00

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

As they set forth in the giant RV and the “Edgelord Special” as Malavera had called it, the crew settled in among the rest of the drivers, trying not to cause too much chaos.


@Mikonp7

Team Gunship

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Single

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 4

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Haapala Streetcruiser:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: Powertrain

Time lost to breakdown: 04:31:15

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

The open roadster hurtles into the Rift, leaving the crew momentarily shocked by the unexpected temperature difference. Things were going well until the engine conked out. Fun fact: Engines don’t work so well when the battery dies courtesy of a non-functional alternator. Fortunately, a spare part is found, the car is jump-started, and other than another issue caused by a loose plug wire, things go smoothly.


@ldub0775

4 Dicks in a Truck

Finish Position: N/A

Support/Single/Top-Gear: Single

Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Aggression: 4

Team Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Team Travel Time (Aetherii): N/A

Centurion 9000:

Travel Time (Earth): 08:54:44

Number of Refuel Stops: 0

Time Lost to Refueling: 00:00:00

Breakdown: Tires

Time lost to breakdown: 01:04:35

Stopped by Police: N/A

Time lost to Police: 00:00:00

Total Distance Traveled: 177.6 Miles

Total Time: 08:54:44

Tailing the pack of cars with a semi and RV trailer, the crew settles in for a long journey. They’re forced to stop settling in and go fix shit when one of the inside dually tires decides to blow up.

12 Likes
Prologue


Team Information: Shitbox Rally 2023 - Entries Open! - #52 by TheYugo45GV


Long Chapter Ahead


This chapter was written in collaboration with @Madrias


Good Public Relations


Following the rather exuberant entrance to the camp, the occupants of the Mayland got out of their car. Karl kept the driver’s door open, and leant against it and the roof, while Landon shut the passenger, and straightened his medals and uniform jacket following the chaotic drive to the camp.

“Y’know, for how much shit I give you, you seem surprisingly tolerant.” Landon began. “I’m real grateful you got us out of there safely.”

“Hey now. I just followed my instincts, I am a cat after all. One that knows how to drive better than most professionals.” Karl replied, thankful. “Plus, you and I have proven time and time again that we are weirdly good at improvising.”

A chuckle came from Landon. “You know what they say, great minds think alike. Anyway, I think I’m gonna go introduce myself to the hosts.”

“I saw two Khalans when we pulled in. I think I’ll hold back a little bit considering what my uncle did to my family’s reputation.”

“Your uncle?”

Karl nodded. “Yeah, he tarnished our reputation with his betrayal of the code.”

“You have a code?” Landon queried, a note of confusion in his voice.

“Uh-huh, it’s… it’s a long story. Now go on, I’ll join you later.”

The general looked across the camp towards the heavy duty trucks parked on the far side near the trailers and the Diones. Well, he did see one of the Khalans wearing some sort of military uniform and it was maybe a wise idea to get to know the hosts, and besides, establishing good relations from the get go was how wars were avoided. The General sighed, he was taller than anyone on his team, just a little over 6’ 6", and his uniform would probably make him stand out especially since it strongly resembled Soviet service dress uniforms. A country that Karl told him about that had collapsed long ago. Regardless, he twitched his ears and donned his peaked military cap before starting his approach dodging around the Ivera’s hood.

Takaraya looked over as a fox-like being, about six-and-a-half feet tall, started making his way over toward him. He glanced over at his son, who was writing something in a notebook with the cab door half open for airflow, again almost oblivious to the world around him. He looked back at the fox, his own amber eyes trying to pick any and all details up that he could, even with his inability to see color.

Eventually, the fox made it to within speaking distance of him. “Wing Commander Takaraya Wintermoon. State your business,” Takaraya said, naturally a bit on the defensive side because he knew his son didn’t really like being around military people.

Kasiya looked out of the cab door and groaned. “Great. More military people,” he muttered to himself. “At this rate, Nehmenweld will think it’s an invasion.”

Remaining focused on the Khalan that had just greeted him and introduced himself. Landon stood at ease, hands behind his back, standing fully upright, as though he were addressing troops.

“Greetings Commander. I’m Supreme General Sabourne of the Velkaristan Armed Forces. Your uniform tells me you’re in the Royal Air and Space Force.”

Takaraya gave a light nod. “Good to meet you, then, General,” he said, his metal hands reflecting a bit of sunlight as he moved. “Kasiya, you might as well meet him,” he called out.

Kasiya set his notebook down on the seat with a muffled thump, shoved the door open the rest of the way, and stepped out, rising to his full 10 foot height as he crossed his arms. “Kasiya Wintermoon, leader of the Nehmenweld Expedition for the Interplanetary Historical Preservation Society,” he said, looking down at General Sabourne.

“Pleased to meet you Kasiya, I presume your the commander’s son.” Landon began, offering a handshake, despite the size difference. “I’ve heard of the Preservation Society before, my… uhm… associate has told me all about it.”

“I am Takaraya’s son, yes,” Kasiya replied, accepting the handshake and trying his best not to squeeze too hard in the process.

Takaraya, on the other hand, looked over toward the cars as Landon mentioned his associate. “Now that is curious. Your associate is aware of the Preservation Society, and you’re here as well… You’re looking for something in Nehmenweld,” Takaraya said. “They wouldn’t assign high-brass to a mission like this unless it was dangerous. I’m not here on mission, my orders were to heal up after my accident, and I got involved with the rest of this crew on this event.”

Kasiya watched Malavera duck inside one of the plastic portable toilets, noticing Kivenaal checking his phone a few moments later. He glanced over to Landon, then added in, “There are a few things I can think of that might be of value enough to send out a General. The big one, however, is the Sacred Chalice of Aureia, some Aetheriian goddess of peace and healing. Well, it’s either that, or you’re looking for the Dragon-shard, a sword that burns with eternal fire.”

Takaraya noticed that Kivenaal ducked inside one of the “porta-potties” as well, then gave a chuckle and shook his head as he figured out what was going on. “They’re going to get caught if they keep doing that,” he said to himself. He then looked to Landon and smiled. “It’s often been said by my father that Kasiya would make a good diplomat,” Takaraya said.

“No, I wouldn’t. I can’t lie enough to keep myself in office for a day,” Kasiya replied.

“I’m here because the High Council ordered me to be here. Plus, My friend over there,” Landon pointed to what was evidently not a fox, bent over through the window of the older of the two car. “He’s the one who pulled the strings to bring me here. I’m certain you’ll instantly recognize who and what he is. Especially since he told me about it on the way here.”

Meanwhile, the being had found what they were looking for, and then stood up. It was none other than a Caracalian, a species on a neighboring planet to Panthiri Prime, that was comprised of the smaller wildcats.

Landon then continued. “He’s the one who’s brought that giant boat over there. A Mayland Ambassador I think it is. Next to the Ivera over there, with the RV lookin’ thing.”

Takaraya studied the other being, then sighed. “A Caracalian. Which family? There’s one where, depending on the branch, I have very specific orders I am to follow,” Takaraya said.

Before Landon could answer, however, Kaylie stormed over and asked, “So, what went through your mind when you raced past the camp in a cloud of gravel and dust?”

Kasiya, rolling his eyes, then said, “Landon, here, was not the one driving. Yes, I know your first name, General. I read the entry forms and logged them in earlier for the historical record.”

Karl meanwhile had walked up, and he stood about similar to Kaylie’s height, as he came up from behind. He wore civilian clothing. “I think you could blame me for the driving. You see, Landon and I were attacked on the way here. Wasn’t until he pointed out that we missed the turning on the road over there that I saw how fast I was going.” He paused, before addressing the two Khalans, and also offering a handshake.

“Karl von Heislingberg, I’m certain that name isn’t pleasing to hear given recent circumstances, but I can assure you, my father, Ayren has dealt with the traitors. You must be Takaraya, the son of his Majesty the king, Wintermoon.”

Kaylie sighed. “Yeah, the only reason I was upset was the rock-shower you threw behind your car. We’ve had team members pelted by rocks before, it’s not fun.”

Karl flashed a small grin across his face in response.

As Karl introduced himself, Takaraya sighed. “I am the son of Dakala, yes. And while your father may have dealt with the traitors, Karl, I still have my orders that, should I cross paths with Erran and his line, I am to shoot them on sight. Luckily for you, I got an update to my orders a while back that changed it to just his branch of the family.”

Kasiya sighed. “The last thing the galaxy needs is another fucking war,” he grumbled.

Karl gave a light nod, in response.

Takaraya glanced over to the portable toilet again and chuckled as he saw Kivenaal walk out of it with a light grin on his face. A few seconds later, Malavera stepped out, looking a little unsteady on his feet at first, but managing to hide it well after a few steps. Kaylie had followed his glance and sighed. “So that’s why they asked Jayde to sound-proof the toilets,” she said, shaking her head.

“Y’know, Takaraya, my dad did tell me he spoke with the king, about what to do moving forward. So, I guess the both of us should expect some form of message at some point.” Karl concluded, ignoring what was happening in the background. “Plus, I’m glad to see you walking around again, given what happened.”

Landon meanwhile, watched in the background what was happening. He flashed a little bit of confusion on his face but then spoke up. “You seem to know the commander, but that’s his son that’s next to him, he’s an archeologist like you I think.”

Karl glanced up at the much taller Khalan. “You must be with the Historical Preservation Society. I recognized the color scheme on the HD-GVs over there. I can tell one of 'em is a Carry-All.”

Kasiya nodded. “I’m the leader of the Nehmenweld Expedition,” he said, looking to Karl. “My truck is the Carry-All. My father drives the Home-Unit. We’re both hauling a trailer that’s made from the rear half of a Carry-All as well, so we have plenty of supplies.”

“And plenty of weapons,” Takaraya said, smiling. “We’re probably not the most heavily armed team here, but we are prepared.”

Landon and Karl glanced at each other, before Landon started. “Well, we didn’t know what dangers we would face so we did too. We had to use one of them though, as Karl might have stated.”

Karl meanwhile had reached around his back and removed his sidearm. It was an Automag Raven with a shorter barrel, around 6 inches. He examined the weapon, demonstrating very good discipline.

Karl drawing his weapon had the end result of Kaylie, Takaraya, and Kasiya drawing their sidearms. Kaylie’s Walther P99 was, perhaps the most normal weapon of the three as she held it low, with the barrel pointed in a generally safe direction and her finger outside the trigger guard. Takaraya had a very large, heavy semi-automatic handgun that clearly had been stamped with a new caliber, declaring it now fired .458 SOCOM instead of the old .46 KAL. Likewise, Kasiya had a revolver, rechambered in .500 S&W Magnum, holding 7 rounds and having a “short” 6 inch barrel. None of the three weapons were particularly shiny or showy, and were instead very practical handguns.

Of course, the “gun show” got Kivenaal’s attention, and he approached the group and drew his four Smith & Wesson Model 500 Magnum revolvers, with 8 inch barrels, nickel-chrome finish, and custom walnut grips. “Sorry that I missed our introductions,” he said. “I’m Kivenaal Khakrin-Marinseien.” He holstered his weapons quickly, prompting Kaylie, Kivenaal, and Takaraya to do the same. “Would’ve been here earlier, but I had… Other duties to take care of.”

“Not sure that having a bit of “fun” with Malavera in a portable toilet exactly counts as “other duties,” Kivenaal,” Takaraya said in response.

Neither Karl nor Landon said anything, they stood there and pretended to mind their own business. “I think we could set up some sort of gun range. Especially with that hill as a back stop.” Landon pointed out, “If we have any tables to put targets on, perhaps.”

“Landon, they’ve brought a giant transport truck. It’s going to have room for all sorts of supplies, I’m gonna assume they brought some form of table at least.”

The general simply looked at him, unamused, but understanding. "I guess it won’t hurt to practice a little bit and maybe show of some of the firepower that we’ve brought. “Especially considering our…” He trailed making sure he could trust absolutely everyone, satisfied, he finished his sentence. “Mission.”

“You mean the range I busted my ass earlier to set up?” Kivenaal asked, motioning toward the range he’d built earlier, complete with targets at reasonable distances. “Granted, Takaraya helped - it’s very helpful to have someone who has nearly no limit to the number of sandbags he can lug around - but we set the range up because we expected people might want to shoot.”

Karl glanced at the range, putting up a hand to shield the sunlight. “Well, I guess that means we’ve got something to pass the time. Also, Landon, please go change out of that uniform, I’m overheating just looking at you.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s insulated? I’ll change out of it later, once more people arrive.”

“Okay, alright. Let’s go see the range then.”

Kasiya laughed. “Karl, if you think what Landon is wearing would be hot, take another look at Kivenaal,” Kasiya said. Kivenaal, giving a light smirk, showed his leather duster, leather vest, button-up shirt, jeans, and leather chaps to Karl, before making an explanation of his own.

“My fur is rated for -40 degrees Celsius. A couple months ago, it would have been rated for far, far colder. You’ll survive,” Kivenaal said, chuckling.

Karl simply shrugged, knowing he was a being that could exist in warm temperatures being a cat mainly found in desert climates.

As the small group headed for the range, eventually making it to the firing line, Kaylie added, “If it’s really that bad here for you, I’ll let Jayde know. Just bring a spare shirt so he can put a cooling enchantment on it.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I should be alright.” Karl replied politely.

Kivenaal smiled, then said, “Pick a lane. Plenty of targets available, after all.”

Takaraya chose the far lane, thumbing the safety off on his pistol and taking aim at a mid-range target, firing one shot and landing just off to the right of the bullseye with a one-handed shot.

Kaylie gripped her handgun with her right hand, carefully wrapping her chrome left hand around her natural right hand to support the weapon, then cracked off her first round and managed to hit the top of the close-range target.

Kasiya, likewise, aimed at the close target, using both hands to steady his revolver, then put a hole a few inches low of the bullseye.

Kivenaal, however, drew all four revolvers, picked the mid-range pistol target, and promptly put four holes within an inch of the bullseye.

The Automag was a familiar weight, and instinctively, Karl racked the slide and gripped the weapon with both hands. He took aim at a mid-range target as well and fired three times, one went left, the other one right and one just right next to the bullseye.

Landon meanwhile, selected one of the further targets holding the gun with one hand fired off all six rounds from his revolver. Two bullets hit directly in the center of bullseye, side by side, one went low, hitting just below the bullseye, the other three hit just above the two holes in the center.

It soon became clear as Kaylie, Kivenaal, Kasiya, and Takaraya unloaded on their targets that some of them were much better shots than the others. Takaraya was resistant to the heavy recoil of his rifle-chambered pistol, proceeding to keep all of his shots within a very tight group, similar to Landon. Kivenaal pelted his target with all four revolvers, leaving a cluster of 20 holes all grouped in the space of a human’s fist. Kaylie’s target looked more like someone had fired a shotgun at it, with a bunch of 9mm holes scattered around the top of the target, with none of them really making it to the bullseye. Kasiya, despite his usual claims of being a bad shot, managed to put seven rounds into a space the size of a CD on his target, centered around the bullseye.

Reloading their weapons also showed their familiarity, as Takaraya casually ejected the magazine, put it into a pouch on his belt, retrieved a full one, and loaded it into the weapon with well-practiced ease, dropping the slide-release and chambering a round. Kaylie, on the other hand, was a lot slower on her reload, taking her time to make sure she lined things up properly before shoving the loaded magazine into her P99. Kivenaal holstered two revolvers, swung the cylinders out on the pair remaining in his hands and knocked the spent shells free, loaded them with a pair of speed loaders, and closed the cylinders back up, holstered that pair, drew the empty set, and repeated the process, before drawing the other revolvers again. Kasiya, however, swung the cylinder out, emptied the shells out, and then put 7 new ones in, one at a time, from a pouch of ammunition on his belt.

Karl meanwhile, had left to go get something, and Landon seemed to know what it was, as he returned with a large very high quality rifle case and a metal box of ammunition that had Holland & Holland scrawled on it with permanent marker.

He set it down on a plastic folding table and popped the latches, and opened the lid. From inside he lifted what was very much a Czech CZ-550 safari hunting rifle crafted from materials that looked ridiculously expensive. It also had a high end professional grade sniper scope that had up to 12x zoom and a shoulder strap hanging from the sling anchor points.

To load the weapon Karl pulled the bolt back and inserted three rounds of .375 H&H Magnum, then once the weapon was loaded, he slapped the bolt closed and then shouldered the rifle and took aim, adopting a steady stance with his feet shoulder width apart, and his right foot slightly behind and to the right. Flattening his ears, he pulled the trigger.

There came a loud bang accompanied by a huge muzzle flash, the rifle bucking violently as it sent a .375 bullet down range punching right through the bullseye and thrown up sand and dust into the air.

“Okay, if we’re playing with rifles now,” Kivenaal said, holstering his revolvers and pulling his lever action rifle from across his back, “I can do that.” While he was busy loading his suppressed lever action rifle with .45-70 Government rounds, Takaraya walked over to the Carry All, opened the back, and got his rifle out of it, returning a few moments later with what vaguely resembled an M16, but scaled up to Takaraya’s size, and holding one hell of a chunky magazine in it. He racked the charging handle, pulled the stock into his shoulder, and then set the weapon to semi-automatic, blasting one of the distant targets with a .50 BMG round. Kaylie casually caught the flying shell casing with her left hand and set it down on the table, avoiding it hitting either Kasiya, Karl, or Landon.

Kivenaal’s response, however, was to chamber one round, flip up his precision rear iron sight, dial it in for the range of that distant target, and put one right through the bullseye. “Just be glad Malavera’s not over here, we actually stand a chance of looking decent. If *he’s * shooting with his rifle, we all look like a bunch of rookies,” Kivenaal said.

Landon had left for a moment but returned clutching what was a G36 but with a heavier barrel, and a dual helical drum magazine that was loaded. Karl was eyeing worriedly.

“What? We’ve got enough 5.56 to last us months.” Landon remarked, racking the charging handle. What came afterward was a full auto 750 round per minute burst of 5.56 ammunition lighting up one of the closer range targets. “Forgot I left it in full auto.”

Then he flicked the firing selector into semi auto and fired off a few more rounds.

Takaraya rolled his eyes at the burst of full-auto from the G36. “I can do that as well, but it’s not needed while fighting paper targets,” Takaraya replied, punching a few more half-inch holes in one of the targets.

Kivenaal, meanwhile was trying to sight in on the furthest target available, cracking off a shot and landing it in the bottom left corner of the target board.

“Low and to the left,” Malavera said, joining the line with his PGM Hecate II in his hands. He pulled the bolt back, put a fresh magazine in the weapon, and carefully slid the bolt home, then shouldered the rifle and looked down the scope. “Calling my shot: Top half of the eight, furthest target,” Malavera said, before carefully squeezing the trigger. Sure enough, he put a round into the top half of the 8, rather than hitting the large bullseye a couple inches below it. He took a brief moment to reload, catching his spent brass as it left the chamber and putting it on the table, took aim at the target, then said, “Center of the bullseye.” Another shot, and another hole where Malavera claimed it’d end up being.

Kivenaal looked to Landon, then said, “This is why I said Malavera would make all of us look like rookies.”

The general gave a nod, before leaving to return the rifle where he’d brought it from.

“You want to give the rifle a try?” Karl asked him as he returned. “Yeah sure.”

Landon took aim, and fired, hitting one of the further targets dead center. Before firing again, hitting a little to the left of the previous bullet.

Malavera finished off a group of five shots, each time calling his intended target, before he unloaded the weapon and returned it to its case in the truck. Takaraya unloaded his rifle, taking the time to make sure it was returned to a safe condition with an empty magazine stored in the rifle. Kivenaal finished up his target practice with his lever-action rifle, putting it away after he’d emptied the weapon. Kasiya and Kaylie made sure their handguns were loaded, yet safe, returning them to their holsters. Takaraya took a bit longer as he reloaded the empty pistol magazine at the range and put it back in his pouch, then holstered the rather large handgun.

“Was good to have a bit of range time,” Kaylie said, smiling. She led the crew back to the HD-GVs after making sure the spent brass was collected up and put in the metal bucket, keeping their range clean.

After the others had left, Karl and Landon packed up their weapons, and returned to where their team’s vehicles were parked. It was around this time, Karl looked over at where the trailers were.

“I guess you still want to meet new people, eh Karl?” Landon asked, walking up from behind the car.

“We did introduce ourselves to one of the host teams, so why don’t we go and meet the other, host team?”

“Maybe later. Speaking of which, Where’s Ramius?”

“He’s around the back of the Ivera with the others, he’ll join us if he wants to when we go and introduce ourselves to the other hosting team. Jayde or whoever, seems to be a mage.”

In the back of Karl’s mind Ramius began speaking. “He is a mage, you moron. Plus, I’m able to communicate with him and the one of the Valraadi in the same way I do with you.”

“Is he telling you off again?”

Karl gave a nod.

“Thought so.”

With a final glance towards the trailers and the steam generator, Karl and Landon soon rejoined their other team mates, and began to run through the mission plan again which they did as other teams arrived after them.


Till next time.

5 Likes

Prologue part 1.1

Carol’s Private Autoshop, West Coast, USA
Sunday evening

Rarchet sound

Ding

The sound of mail notification

“Oh? another client?”
Carol walks over to her laptop

click

“… ……… …!!!”

Carol looks over to many vehicles scattered around the autoshop

“No, no, definitely not that one… that one is too nice… hm… … …”

Her eyes now hovering over a disassembled JMX Linx Turbo Injection that’s sitting on a lift

“Ah! this will do. But will I be able to finish restoring this in time tho… Oh well, If not then I
should prioritize restoring the internal stuff.”

Carol goes back to working on client car

A week later

“Okay, let’s check the dates where my replacement parts would be arriving”

Carol opens the ATZONE website

“!!! Ah you can’t be for real right now… I guess the left headlight and running light won’t be replaced then. But at least I can still fix the bulb inside the housing.”

Ding “Ah! gotta get back to work.”

The next day

Beep Beep Beep… Beep Beep Beep… Beep Be-
The alarm clock shuts off

“Yawnnnnn~ … …!”
Carol gets up from her bed and walks to the bathroom

Foooooooo

“Ah! … oh, that was silly giggles

Carol turns off the valve

“… Ah right! in the mail they said that the place we will be going to is quite dangerous. I should get ready…”

Carol dress up and drove to a gun store

Door opens

She looks around the store for a few seconds… she can’t seem to decide

“Um, excuse me. I want to buy a gun. I need something that is powerful but is not too expensive.”

The gun store owner turns his head around looking for something and eventually picks up a combat shotgun

“Well lady, this one will do.”

Carol immediately accepts the recommendation and purchased the shotgun

“Thanks for purchasing.”

Carol makes her way back to her autoshop

“I got this for quite cheap, but It should do the job.”

Carol walks over to the back of the autoshop to test fire the shotgun

She loads in the 12 gauge shells before pumping
POW pump POW pump POW

“Hehehehe this is fun, but I should stop before someone calls the cops.”

This concluded today’s activity

Few days later

POW pump
“Wow~, this “Dragon’s breath” shot is quite amazing. giggles

She unload more shells till she runs out

“(Okay, that’s it for the shooting. Gonna head back now…)”

Carol went back inside the autoshop to check on that infamous mail message again
“Hmmm … … … Ah! I know who to bring with me.”

As she figured out. She gets into her JMX and drives off to go meet someone

To be continued on part (1.2)


11 Likes

Team VSmgAB & Team Shift Happens

Prologue 3.1
Prologue 3.2
Campsite Power Speech
Friendship! :D’s sentient cars.
Pre-Race Camp


Stage 0 Drive


At precisely 10:00AM, everything was ready for the rift, with all four steam-powered cars fueled, steamed, coupled up to their respective trailers and even lined up in the order that they would be driving in.

“Radio check?”, Valentin spoke into the CB handle, which came out on the three other cars as little more than static given the innately limited quality of CB communications and Valentin’s still-ruined voice.
“Nothing Heard,” the last car in the lineup, who’s radioman was assigned to be Constantin himself, called out through it’s radio.

Valentin handed the microphone over to Norse, who in turn repeated the process.
“Now we’re Loud and Clear.” Constantin replied, followed by the other two cars confirming signal acuity.

“Please tell them that we are starting the event now. They are to just follow the car in front,” Valentin said to Norse, who in turn relayed the information to the remaining team, them in turn conforming the message.

Soon after, they headed inside, provoking a wide range of feelings, depending on who you ask.
The Schrant brothers have both seen this unfold last year already, which made the rift a fairly familiar experience to them.
Norse could not help but wonder what exactly is happening at the moment.
“So this is what you meant by ‘a location never seen before’?”, he inquired, followed by Valentin simply nodding in response.
Norse “Do you know what the other end is like?”
Val “Ehhhh…”
Norse “Kind of?”
Val Nodding
Norse “What’s it like, then?”
Val “You have the E-Mail.”

Norse then pulled out his phone and, no surprises there, realized that the rift has no internet. He did, however, think far enough to involve the remaining team into this little yes-or-no game by grabbing the handle.
The game went back and forth for a good 45 minutes, even though the information Valentin had about the other end was known less than 20 minutes into the guessing process.

Once that was done, the four steamen went mostly silent until the convoy had to be halted.

“Looks like we might be here a while. Hillbilly Rollers has a dead clutch, they’re trying to fix it right now.”, Kalie announced over the radio for everyone to hear, followed up by: “Ignition to ‘off’.” from Norse for just the three other steamers to hear.

A short while later, the group of eight was gathered up near one of the cars, wondering as to how one could fill the time with.

They eventually settled on what amounted to strength training led by Constantin, with the two civilian members joining as well.
Initially, few problems arose as the group did what Constantin instructed them to do, but soo after, people started ‘tapping out’ to exhaustion, with Rohan quitting first, followed by Norse, then WiIlliam.
The remainder kept going, eventually narrowing it down to Just Jacques, Valentin and Constantin.

Eventually, Constantin more or less ran out of stuff to do and ended the session for the two remaining ‘contestants’, leaving the already finished recruits (especially Mary) in amazement how a walking twig the size of Burj Khalifa could keep up with who they considered to be the strongest member by quite the margin.

A polite nod from Valentin and a good swig of water for all ended in them practically twiddling thumbs until the convoy was to move again.

The remaining drive was uneventful, save for a little conversation within “Ramona”, which was less of a conversation but more of a semi-coherent rambling from Mary about how Valentin was the person to be with in her opinion.

At some point, the rift cleared up and revealed what was somewhat known from the earlier guessing came: A cold and snowy landscape in which they would make camp.

to be continued

4 Likes

TEAM HILLBILLY ROLLERS

PART 1.1 - What’s that smell?

Written in co-operation with @Madrias

Earlier parts

Pre-prologue part 1
Pre-prologue part 2
Prologue part 0.1
Prologue part 0.15 - Interlude
Prologue part 0.2
Prologue part 0.3
Prologue part 0.4
Part 1.0 - The arrival

The light green IP Rugger was driving into the rift, followed by the desert tan Sanju Wolverine with its jerky ride and crunching gearbox. And yes, one of the vehicles already had clutch troubles - and that wasn’t the Wolverine. Instead, Andreas had noticed a slipping clutch in the Rugger, already before arriving at the drivers meeting.

“We’ll simply have to take our chances here”, Andreas said. “We can’t be late to the rift”.

Unfortunately, the vehicle didn’t hold up much longer than into the rift. Finally, the clutch slippage was bad enough for the vehicle to barely drive forward despite crazy revs (well, for a 4Z at least). It was decided that to not damage the flywheel too, a clutch change in the Rift was the only alternative.

“Crap”, Andreas said, trying to coast the Rugger into a more gentle stop, while he barely touched the brake pedal with the other foot, flashing the brake lights to avoid getting multiple tonnes of Sanju buried into the tailgate. He flipped the switch for the hazard lights to notify the other teams that there was something going on. Marie somehow managed to stop the Sanju without any contact between the two vehicles, so somewhat calm Andreas grabbed the CB. “Breaker, breaker 1-9, this is Team Hillbilly Rollers, unfortunately we have to perform a clutch change here in the rift, even if we tried to avoid it for as long as we could, and needless to say, we will be thankful for any help we can get!” Arne jumped out of the Sanju. “Offroading them with an old worn out stock clutch will kill them sooner or later. A well known problem to say the least.”

“Yeah, I know, I know”, Janne said. “Probably what someone had done to the white Rugger before it was T-boned. Why didn’t we take the engine and gearbox apart to check the condition before we put it into the truck? This is NOT going to be fun… Damn. I had hoped that we could at least wait until camp.”

“Reading you clear, Rollers,” Rukari said, before passing the CB handle over to Kaylie. Kaylie, making sure the CB was on the “announcements” frequency, called out, “Looks like we might be here a while. Hillbilly Rollers has a dead clutch, they’re trying to fix it right now.” Kasiya and Takaraya both switched off their HD-GV’s engines, climbing out of the cab to go help out. Takaraya, thinking about it as he walked, grabbed the walkie-talkie on his belt and called in, “Takaraya to Kaylie and Malavera, please remain on stand-by. Team Hillbilly Rollers needs to replace a clutch, and may require further assistance.” As the two large wolves approached, it was Kasiya who asked Janne, Andreas, Marie, and Arne, “Heard you had some clutch trouble. Any way we can help?”

Janne was unbolting the chestnut brown hood from the hinges. “All help will probably be appreciated”, he said. “You know…this is how I put food on the table. By being a mechanic at the IP dealership. So, needless to say, I know very well what has to be done. So, that’s the good news. But…”, he said. while having the facial expression of a block of granite. “…the bad news…”

Kasiya nodded, then asked, “What is the bad news?”

“…you know, I could give you the long version, but I guess the other teams won’t like being stopped longer than they need to. So, let’s just say that the 4WD frame is rather stupid in its design, since some welded on brackets and reinforcements makes it impossible to just take down the gearbox”, he said with a sigh. Now, sometimes it could seem like Janne was the one that liked bragging about his knowledge. The truth was more like the opposite. For Janne, everything he knew about was just so natural, and since he had his own version of what “social skills” meant, he didn’t really catch the idea that blabbering for hours wasn’t always “helpful”. But this time, he managed to keep it somewhat short at least. “So, this is my plans. To start with, we disconnect everything that could be done from the engine bay, except for the coolant hoses. Then we try to lift the truck enough to unbolt things like the propshaft, and it will also make it easier to drain the coolant. Then…we simply have to take the engine and gearbox out, and rake them apart here in the Rift. I have spare parts, I have tools, so nothing in that way will be a problem, but…I would have liked to be able to do it in some other way”. He was grumbling a bit. “Early non-asbestos era…they were probably made of pressed cotton or something…”

“Lifting the truck won’t be a problem,” Takaraya said. “About how heavy is the engine and gearbox, if I may ask?” Kasiya inquired.

“Oh, around 200 kg I would guess”, Janne said. “Just a regular 4 banger, with an alloy head, so not overly heav…”

He was interrupted by Marie sticking her head out of the window of the Sanju. “Are you done with fixing it soon?”

“NO! We haven’t even started yet!”, Janne said, more than just a bit annoyed.

“Why does it smell like shit?”, she said.

“Because that’s what is coming out of your mouth and your nose is just above it!”, Janne answered with more than a grain of salt. He shook his head. “Oh well… Where were we?”

Kasiya raised an eyebrow at the response to Marie, though just shook his head and tried not to laugh. “If it’s 200 kilograms, I can lift that as long as… One moment,” Kasiya said. He grabbed his walkie-talkie, then called in, “Malavera, could you please bring us the tow chains?”

“Are we dragging them?” Malavera replied.

“No, we’ll need them to perform a bit of maintenance here,” Kasiya responded.

“Okay, fair enough, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Malavera replied. Takaraya smirked as Kasiya put the radio back on his belt, then said to Janne, “He’s stronger than he looks.”

“The whole rift is full of people”, Janne said. “Lifting stuff won’t be a problem, even if we need more people. At least as long as Marie will stay where she is so she has no chance to make it into a problem”.

“I am NOT going to help with lifting”, Arne laughed and waved with one of his crutches.

“Nah, you’re probably not going to be very helpful today”, Janne said. There was no time to spare now, though. Janne lifted out the battery from the Rugger and started disconnecting all the wiring and the fuel lines from the engine to hurry things up a bit, while Andreas was sitting inside the cab, unbolting the shifter from the gearbox.

Malavera arrived with the chains in hand and passed them to Takaraya, then got a whiff of the fuel as the fuel lines were disconnected. “Glad I’m not the one crawling under the car. Last time I had to do that, I got gas in my armpit and my fur smelled like a gas station for a week,” Malavera said.

“We’re pulling the engine so Janne can change a clutch,” Kasiya said.

“So, the chains are for, what, then?” Malavera asked.

“Hook these clips to these brackets, and I can just pull this up out of the engine bay,” Kasiya said, motioning to the engine.

“Luckily this engine was recently swapped into this truck”, Janne said. “So, the exhaust manifold studs won’t cause their usual misery this time”, he said while loosening them. Andreas took a couple of spare wheels from the bed. “If we lift the front end up on them, I will be able to get under and remove the propshaft, being the smallest of us all, and we will probably be able to put a bucket under it to drain the coolant into, too.” “MARIE!”, Janne yelled.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Can we throw away your goddamned cactus and drain the coolant into the pot?”

“Hey! You’re not going to touch Mr Spikey, do it and you will regret it, keep that in mind!”

After shaking his head again, Janne grabbed the front bumper. “If we all lift it now, we should be able to put the spares under the front wheels I guess.”

“You won’t really need to help,” Malavera pointed out to Janne, watching as Kasiya and Takaraya placed their hands near the contact patch of the front tires. “On three,” Takaraya said. “One, two, THREE!” Both Kasiya and Takaraya lifted from their knees, hauling the front of the Rugger into the air. Malavera helped in his own way, aiding the others in moving wheels and other items around until they had something stable enough to set the front of the Rugger down. “If we weren’t trying to remove the engine,” Takaraya admitted, “we could have lifted it from the frame rails and acted as a proper lift.”

All of a sudden Janne got something dark in his eyes and hardly said a word. It was obvious, though, that he WANTED to say something. But it really wasn’t coming out of him. “Eh… Excuse him”, Andreas said, being rather nervous. “He is not being an asshole, he is not even mad at you or something, but… you struck the totally wrong nerve now, and…I don’t know if that was very obvious to you.”

Kasiya gave a light nod. “For that, then, we apologize. Kaylie always tries to remind us to watch our strength, especially around people who are not used to us.”

Arne saw what was happening, and tried to take Malavera with him, a bit further from the truck. “You know…there is something you probably should know…to understand what is happening now. Before you make anything worse. Mind if we have a talk?”. Suddenly, Arne did not seem very calm either, despite being totally chill just minutes ago.

Malavera nodded, then followed Arne to have their chat a bit further away from the truck.

Arne took a deep breath. “Yeah…To start with he doesn’t want to touch this subject. And to make it even worse, believe it or not, but deep inside I guess he is more polite than you may think, or something, because he probably want to respect their strength, I don’t really know… But…”

“I am sure that the two of them acting like a lift would be totally safe, but there’s no way in hell he would trust a car not standing on something solid”. It was obvious that even Arne was a bit hesitant telling stuff now. “25 years ago now, he was helping a friend of him, and that friend didn’t care all that much about the warnings we all have heard. Janne thought that his jack looked like a rather rickety affair, but you know how it is, you think that it is none of your business, and…”, there was a moment of silence now. “Yeah. It was a rickety affair indeed, so it all ended with Janne having to do his best with getting him out from under that Firebird. He was almost flattened and will never be himself again, and Janne… Well… He will never stop thinking that everything was his fault for not stopping him from crawling under that car without no proper jackstands. And, well…” Arne didn’t really know how to say this. “…he might seem like some easy going person, but the more you know him, the more complex you realize he is. For the better and the worse.”

“Well, as I said, we trust that you acting as a lift is safe, but he would probably bring up the argument that a proper car lift can’t get stung by a wasp, or something. And…don’t bring it up now. Or at all. Just inform the guys about this later on. When you are done with helping and has left this.”

Malavera nodded. “I can understand that. We may be made of some sturdy stuff, but… Yeah, if you’ve experienced something like that, it’s going to mess with you. I mean, we have a team-member who will absolutely freak out if someone turns on a UV-lamp and a fog machine, so… We can understand that. The two of them are more likely to think that, well… They’re thinking they’ve scared him because of how easily they lifted the car, but… You know what, let me make a radio call real quick.” Malavera grabbed his walkie-talkie, then called to the crew, “Hey, Kivenaal, mind grabbing the two large toolboxes from the back of the Carry All? They’re about 2 feet tall, foot-and-a-half wide, about 3 feet long.” Kivenaal replied. Within a minute, Kivenaal had a pair of nearly-identical heavy toolboxes there. Malavera turned to face the remaining crew and said, “Get the truck up off of those tires please, and set it on the toolboxes instead. I know they’re sturdy enough to take the weight, Kasiya used them as a step-stool once. Kivenaal, move the tires to act as a set of wheel chocks.”

“Right, do this the safe way,” Kivenaal said, moving the tires out of the way, shoving a toolbox under the front wheel, and then placing a spare wheel either side of the rear tire. He repeated the process on the other side, and Kasiya and Takaraya slowly set the Rugger down on the toolboxes gently.

Janne still wasn’t saying much, but somehow, he understood that what Arne had been talking to Malavera about was closely related to what happened with the toolboxes. He finally started to speak when he told Andreas to go get a bucket from the back of the Sanju, to drain the coolant into.

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” A loud scream was heard from the Sanju. “WHY IS THIS GODDAMNED CACTUS STANDING IN THE FUCKING DOORWAY AGAIN, I TOLD YOU TO MOVE I…YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGHHHHH!” It appeared like if trying to move a cactus with your bare hands wasn’t a good idea. Andreas got back, however, with a bucket in his hand and the Garfield doll in the other hand. Being used to wipe his bleeding hands, however, it more looked like some Garfield parody from a horror movie at this moment. “Don’t say a word…just…don’t…”, he said, staring at Janne that all of a sudden was laughing again, with the empty stare being like if it was washed away.

Malavera couldn’t help but laugh as Andreas had an encounter with the cactus in the truck, followed by momentarily forgetting that pushing a cactus away with one’s bare hands was not a good idea. “Looks like Marie found a replacement for Sonic,” Malavera pointed out, smirking with one head while the other got a half-decent look at the Sanju. Both Takaraya and Kasiya shared a look of confusion, while Kivenaal gave a grimace. “Well, I know one vehicle to keep way the hell away from,” Kivenaal said. “You don’t need the back of that Wolverine rusting to shit because I bled on it. Would be a waste of some rather nice military hardware.”

Andreas got under the Rugger to remove the propshaft as well as the gearbox mount, while Janne drained the cooling system into the bucket. “Well…I prefer if it’s not wasted”, Arne laughed. “Been looking for one for years. I have actually never owned one before, this is my first one.”

“I’ve got a list of vehicles I’ve wanted to get,” Kivenaal said. “A Sanju Wolverine is on it, alongside a few other vehicles that are a little difficult to get my hands on,” he added. “I know full well I’m never getting an M1 Abrams, but I want one. I have a couple of Bricksley Quagmires, one in olive drab, two in desert tan. I’ve got a HEMTT on order.”

“Kivenaal’s a collector of military vehicles,” Malavera admitted. “Granted, we’ve learned they sometimes come with some limitations.”

“Yeah, it’s not fuckin’ easy to get laid in the cab of a deuce-and-a-half, for example,” Kivenaal quipped.

“I know, we tried once.” Malavera grimaced, then said,

“Yeah, that didn’t end well. M135 looks bigger on the outside than it is inside.”

“I recommend something more basic there”, Arne said with a raw laughter. “Do you know how much of a hit a Willys MB was with the ladies in the 70s?”, he laughed. “Unfortunately I might have sinned with gaudy custom paint and shiny chrome wheels on a couple of them back then, for, you know…reasons. Oh well, don’t worry, I keep them stock nowadays, I am too old for that business now”, he said, once again laughing. “And you know, they are so open air so you could as well skip the car and use a blanket on the ground instead”. It appears like someone was feeling a bit nostalgic now. “Seems like you are like me then”, he said to Kivenaal. “If it is desert tan or olive drab, and has tracks or knobby tyres, it is worth owning”. He took a piece of paper and a pencil from his pocket, to write down an URL for a website. “You can always check my homepage out”, he said, and gave the piece of paper to Kivenaal. “I’ve got tons of vehicles, parts…you name it. Contacts all over the world. I have been into this since the early 70s. Of course, you probably have your contacts too by now”, he said to Kivenaal, “but two heads can always be better than one”. He then looked to Malavera. “Or what do you say about that?”, he laughed.

Kivenaal smiled, folding the piece of paper and putting it into his wallet for safe-keeping. “I’ll check that out once I get home. Never hurts to add some contacts to the list when it comes to finding military hardware, after all. You ever want to get your hands on any US military equipment, just call me,” Kivenaal said, before pulling a business card out of his wallet and handing it over. “I’ve got a few contacts who can get just about anything, if you’re willing to wait for it.” Malavera grimaced lightly at the “two heads can always be better than one” saying, then said, “Most of the time, I’d agree with you. Waking up with a hangover, on the other hand, is double the trouble.” Kivenaal smirked. “Malavera, Takaraya, and Kasiya are all lightweights when it comes to alcohol. A couple beers and they’re unable to stay in their seat.”

Their talk was all interrupted by Janne, shouting that “We are ready to lift the engine out by now!”. After all, the other teams were probably tired of being hung up now.

“Right, that’s my cue to give Kasiya these chains,” Malavera said, before heading back over to Janne, Kasiya, Andreas, and Takaraya. Kasiya took the chains and carefully hooked them up to the engine, gripping the chain in both hands to take up the load evenly. “I can lift a fair bit more than this, but I’m going to want a place to set it down once it’s free,” Kasiya warned. “Another spare tire, please?” Malavera asked, glad to see that Kivenaal was on the ball with grabbing another rim and tire and setting it face-down on the ground. “Should cradle the oil pan just fine like that,” Malavera said, “though we’ll have Takaraya minding the chains. And, before you worry about him dropping it, well… Takaraya, mind pulling up a sleeve and one of the legs of your pants?” Takaraya sighed, then did as he’d been asked, revealing the titanium of his arms and his legs. “I’ve had extensive augmentations done after getting shot down. Spine, hips, and shoulder-blades are reinforced. Arms from the shoulders down are replaced. Legs from mid-thigh down as well,” Takaraya explained.

The looks of Takarayas arms and legs appearantly didn’t really comfort Andreas that, despite everything happening last year, was really not comfortable with weird shit. But he didn’t say anything. With the engine down on the spare wheel, Janne unbolted the gearbox from the engine, and took a crowbar to separate the two of them. “Oh, crap. Yeah, this is bad. It looks like a magpie’s nest in here”, Janne said. “Oh, don’t worry, by 1983 there is no asbestos used anymore, but still…”. He went to the back of the Rugger and grabbed a yellowed box with a clutch kit. “Happened to find a NOS one at work”, he said. While Janne was unbolting the pressure plate from the flywheel, Arne started discussing with Kivenaal again. “So…what do you think about our learner driver, then?”, he said, pointing at Marie where she sat, looking about as bored as she could be. “Do you have faith in her being a skilled driver when this rally is over?”

“I mean, you humans have learned how to twin-stick with only one hand to spare, so, there’s potential,” Kivenaal admitted. "Then again, we are talking about Marie, who is the only human I know who was bold enough to head-butt my brother over a bottle of moonshine." Malavera studied the burned out clutch, then asked, “Did you teach Marie how to drive stick in this before you came to the rally? Because the last time I saw one that bad, it belonged to Kayden, who absolutely destroyed one in a 1998 Sinistra Savage.” Kasiya looked at it, then asked, “Out of curiosity, what is it made out of?”

Janne shook his head. “We took this engine out of a T-boned truck just days before the rally”, he said. “No idea at all what has been done with it, but they are known to be a bit weak for heavier offroading”, he said. Then he scratched his head at Kasiya’s question. What WAS asbestos free clutch material really? “Well, I need to figure that out, I guess”. While Janne was searching for the centering tool in his tool box, Arne gave Kivenaal a promise. “Have you driven a Wolverine before? If not, you will have done it before we go home, take my word for that.”

“Never been behind the wheel of one, no,” Kivenaal admitted. “That said, I can drive manual, and I know how to drive twin-stick or non-synchronized gearboxes, so, it shouldn’t be that hard. Might be a tight fit in the cab, but I’ll manage.” Malavera chuckled. “Well, if someone learned to drive stick or learned the basics of off-roading with it, yeah, that explains the fried-bird’s-nest of a clutch.” Kasiya shrugged, then said, “Figured I had to ask. We’ll both find out eventually.”

Not much happened, more than maybe the usual small talk, while Janne was mounting the new clutch to the flywheel, and, with the help of Andreas, putting the engine and gearbox back together again. “OK”, Janne said. “I guess we are ready to lift the engine back in now!”

Takaraya nodded, handing the chains back to Kasiya. “I may be stronger than he is, but… He’s taller,” Takaraya admitted. As Kasiya hauled the engine up, Takaraya helped Janne guide the transmission and engine back into place.

Without too much drama, the process was more or less reversed. Everything was bolted back in place, and it was now time to lift the truck down from it supports and see if everything worked like it should.

“Right, we lift on three,” Takaraya said. “Kivenaal, Malavera, you get those toolboxes out of the way.”

“One, two, three!” Takaraya counted, moments before, yet again, the Rugger was hauled into the air, the toolboxes slid out of the way, and then quickly settled back onto the ground. “No one’s got gas in their armpit this time?” Malavera asked.

“No gas in the armpits”, Arne said, going back to the cab of the Sanju, grabbing a plastic bag with some beer cans. “But here is some fuel for the crew”, he said, handing them out to the Shift Happens members being at site.

“Hey, those are MINE!”, Marie was screaming from the drivers seat.

“No, they WERE!”, Janne answered. “You will have absolutely no use for them, because you will be driving all the goddamned time!”

“Thanks, I already knew that”, Marie said, more than just a little grumpy. “Imagine if I didn’t have to, then I could have been wasted for hours now instead of the misery of watching you repair the truck, and having to be all sober while watching it.”

“Remember that moonshine you BORROWED from them last year, Marie? Well, time to give something back now!”, Andreas told her.

Kivenaal chuckled. “Well, these will be more than enough to guarantee three members of the crew are going to be a bit… tipsy in camp,” Kivenaal said. “I can handle it quite well, but these three,” Kivenaal said, smirking as he pointed to Kasiya, Malavera, and Takaraya, “they’re likely having this one can and being totaled. We’ll store these in the Carry All, enjoy them once we’re settled in.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had beer before,” Kasiya admitted.

“It goes straight to your head and makes you loopy,” Malavera said. “Fun once in a while, but definitely not something you’ll want to do often.”

“I can handle a couple of these, but even then, I’ll be keeping it light. And I wouldn’t advise trying to get into the Carry All to retrieve them. One of our AI is guarding it, and she’s in control of Kasiya’s powered environmental-protection suit,” Takaraya said.

“No, no, you want to do it all the time”, Andreas said. “Just ask Marie.”

“HEY! I heard that!”, Marie said.

“So do you disagree with me?”, Andreas said.

“Uhm…”

Malavera chuckled. “I’ve had plenty of experience with alcohol, including overdoing it a time or two. Headaches are not fun. It’s way less fun if I’ve really over-done it and end up throwing up.”

“He turns into a vomit volcano,” Kivenaal said with a smirk.

With the Rugger down on the ground, Andreas did some test driving, as good as it was possible in the rift. Everything seemed to work exactly as intended. “Yup”, Janne said. “So, if you do me a last favour then…hold the hood and I’ll bolt it back on the hinges.”

Kasiya nodded, grabbing one corner of the hood, while Takaraya delicately grabbed the other one. Together, they worked to balance the hood on the hinges for Janne, only letting go once he seemed satisfied with how it was lining up.

Slamming the chestnut brown lid shut with a bang, Janne wiped his hands on the now very multicoloured Garfield. “Phew…finally this convoy can get rolling again…thanks a lot!”

“Hey, it’s good to be able to help. Though, to be fair,” Kivenaal said, counting out $100 and passing it to Malavera, who smirked in response, “I thought Marie would have killed the clutch first.” After they said their goodbyes-for-now, the four returned to their trucks, where Kaylie gave a warning over the radio, “Okay people, we’re setting out in 10 minutes. Get your stuff put away, get back in your cars, and get those engines warmed up.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

5 Likes

Prologue part 1.2

Credit to @S_U_C_C_U_L_E_N_T for helping with the writing of this part

A certain trailer park, West Coast, USA
Friday night

“Tonight… is Friday night.” Miya thought as her electric kettle shut off, indicating that the water had boiled, “There’s no better way to spend a night like this.”

Miya took the kettle with her little hands and poured its contents into an awaiting cup of ramen her parents from back in Japan had sent her. Once the water reached the cup’s fill line, Miya stopped and put the kettle aside. She took her phone out and set a timer for precisely three minutes.

And with that, Miya put the kettle away and watched the cup noodles cook on the rather small, camper van-sized table.

“Friday nights and weekends are so scary!” Miya thought as her phone’s timer counted down. Miya stood up once again and cracked open a can of lemon-flavoured chūhai from her fridge.

“I can imagine a night out on a day like this…” Miya thought, “I’m afraid to talk to other people. I won’t enjoy myself on a night out at all!”

Miya looked at her phone again. Five seconds left until her delectable cup of noodles are done.

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

Knock knock.

gasp W-who’s there!” Miya exclaimed, looking at the door.

“Don’t worry~, it’s me, Carol!” the voice said, “I’m coming in!”

Carol gently opened the door. “Cup noodles again~?” she asked.

“Um, y-yeah…” Miya replied, relieved that a stranger wasn’t at the door, “Come in… Also, have you… eaten yet?

“‘I’ve already eaten.” Carol said, entering the caravan and closing the door behind her, “Don’t worry about it.”

“So…” Miya asked, grabbing another nearby stool for Carol to sit on, “What brings you here?”

“Well you see Miya…” Carol said with a smile growing on her innocuous face, “We’re gonna go rallying!”

“R-rallying!!!” Miya exclaimed, her face turning pale, “I-I can’t convince so many people to gather in one place! We don’t even have a cause to fight for! I can’t imagine the humiliation of leading a crowd into the Capitol Building… The Feds are gonna lock me up in Guantanamo Bay! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Miya’s voice started distorting, before shattering into pieces (not literally)

“Calm down, Miya!” Carol said as she desperately tried to gather Miya’s broken pieces, “I’m not talking about that kind of rally, I’m talking about the one with cars!”

“Cars?” Miya said as she magically reassembled herself, “Something like the Dakar rally?”

“A bit, but it’s more like a road trip if you ask me!” Carol replied, “It’s gonna be fun, you can go with your camper and see all kinds of new places! You’re not gonna be busy with anything right?”

“Uhh… N-no?” Miya replied, clearly considering Carol’s offer.

“So, what do you think?” Carol asked, “Regan’s coming too, y’know? He’s a nice guy, you should try to talk with him more~!”

“I-I guess so…”

“Then it’s set!” Carol said, “I’ll go get Regan, then we can go! That man really needs his own set of wheels… Anyway, get yourself ready. I’ll be back in a bit!”

“W-wait, Carol!” Miya called.

Carol looked back at Miya.

“N-nevermind.” Miya continued, “You go get… Regan and I’ll prepare myself.”

Carol looked at Miya for a second and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Alrighty~” Carol said, exiting the camper.

As Carol walked away from the camper, she took her phone from her pocket (bla bla bla)

“Hey, Regan!” Carol cheerfully said, “We’re going on a road trip! You’re not busy right?”

“Uhh… I should be free tomorrow.” Regan replied.

“That’s great!” Carol said, “Anyway, pack your bags. I’ll be at your place in a bit.”

“Wait…” Regan wondered, “Pack my bags? How long are we gonna go for?”

“How long doesn’t matter as long as we’re having fun, no?” Carol replied, “You’re at home right?”

“Well, yeah…” Regan said, “Wait, how did you know?”

“I had a feeling that you won’t be anywhere else~.” Carol replied, “So…”

A short silence ensued.

“I’ll be there in ten!” Carol said, “You better get ready~!”

“Y-yes!” Regan affirmed.

Carol hung up and continued walking towards her trusty JMX Linx Turbo Injection.

With both Miya and Regan in her team, Carol got into the Linx, started the engine and drove off to Regan’s.

To be continued on part (1.3)


8 Likes

Team Magdalena

Prologue, Part 1
October 2022
Scotland, United Kingdom

Through the desolate Scottish forests, a small vehicle traversed its way through the narrow trail at as high a speed as possible. The old, tattered white paint job with sponsor stickers pasted on was caked in a layer of dirt and mud. Every scrape, rattle, bang, and raindrop sounded its way through the vehicle’s thin and uninsulated cabin as it negotiated sharp corners with minute precision.

It would not be another 15 miles or so until the finish line and like the rain, fatigue was beginning to fall upon Isobel and George. It had been cloudy that day, but no one expected the rain to fall this hard upon the Scottish landscape.

Regardless of the weather, the physical and mental toll of driving a manky old car at high speed in questionable conditions made it difficult for Isobel to focus. Eventually, Isobel slipped and the dirty little liftback entered a spin. Regaining her senses, Isobel wrestled with the car and managed to get it back on track. But something was not right.

“Bloody hell! The tyre!”

Isobel scrambled to unbuckle her 4 point harness, only to be stopped by George.

“Calm down, you’ll get a fever if you go out and fix the tyre now.” George warned, “It’s just a practice run. It’s not worth it.”

“But if we stop now, we’d lose our momentum.”

“And if we get sick, we won’t be able to participate in the actual race.”

Isobel looked at George with visible frustration, as if to rebut his statement. Her emerald green gaze would have pierced straight through the average person, but George had grown used to it. Isobel pulled back and sighed.

“Damned rain!” Isobel exclaimed, hitting the steering wheel.

George felt his eyelids getting heavier as the adrenaline wore off and the exhaustion set in. Since their car was last in line for the day, George and Isobel figured that it would be safe to have their car stay where it is. And while waiting for the rain to let up, they might as well get some much-needed rest too. George slowly closed his eyes but as he did so, a loud bang forced him awake.

“What the hell?!?” Isobel exclaimed, pointing at the sky. A blinding flash of light had appeared. Around the flash there were wisps of white smoke and electric charges, as if it were telling the young rally drivers to end their lives immediately.

Isobel tried to reverse the car and get to safety, but it was no use. The blinding light quickly expanded and enveloped the car, prompting the two to close their eyes and brace for the worst.

“ISOBEL!!!” George cried.

“GEORGE!!!” Isobel cried.

Seconds passed, but for George and Isobel it felt like an eternity. The loud noises began to die down until it was eventually no more. Silence. Their eyes stayed shut as they prayed to the Lord above to forgive their sins, now and in death. After agonizing over his fate and how he was ultimately unable to do anything to change it, George opened his eyes and peered outside. The flash from earlier was gone, but the landscape looked… foreign. It was like the ones he had seen in movies and comic books: dry, desolate, and hot. George looked around some more and spotted a sign that truly made his heart sink. They weren’t in heaven, nor were they in hell or purgatory.

“Isobel…” George said mortifyingly, “We’re in Nevada.”

Isobel opened her eyes and looked around. Her pupils shrank as she realized that they were indeed in the state of Nevada.

“Dear God…” Isobel said in disbelief.

George unbuckled his racing harness, took his helmet off, and got out of the car, letting the recent events sink in. There was only desert as far as the eye can see, and a long, straight road with a double yellow line down the middle. The sun was shining but the weather was not as hot as George had expected, perhaps due to the time of year. There was also a lone RV in the distance with a man holding a strange pipe, but George knew not to approach him even in the worst situations as he had learned from the time he went to Glasgow.

“Well, George.” Isobel said, having gotten out of the car too, “There’s only one thing we can do.”

“You’re right…”

The two opened the tailgate and made short work of the flat tyre. With no finish line to reach or a home to return to in the westward territories of the Thirteen Colonies, Isobel simply drove, going wherever the road takes them.

Two hours later, the sun was setting and the car was running out of fuel. Isobel had tried to drive more slowly but ultimately, their car was still a race car.

A bright neon sign appeared in the distance. At long last, a service station. Given that they were now in the great United States of America and that they were starving, George and Isobel’s imagination ran wild. Hot dogs, cheeseburgers, double cheeseburgers, triple cheeseburgers… and/or chips (or fries, as the Yanks call them) Either way, they could not wait. The car approached the service station which was surprisingly crowded at the time. There were petrol pumps, a store, a restaurant, and even a motel. As expected, there were plenty of big American cars. Vintage Mayflowers, Denvers, Turbols, and Silver-Yorks abound. It was a dream come true for fans of all things America. But one car in particular caught George and Isobel’s eyes.

“That car doesn’t look American…” George said, pointing at a white SUV with “AMBULANS” and “PMI KABUPATEN FAKFAK” stickers on it. The SUV in question was a Hinode Rusa (as the badges indicate) with barn doors. Its license plate was black, with white letters and numbers underlined by another white line. The body was very muddy although the tyres were quite clean, suggesting that the car had driven some miles on relatively clean asphalt to reach the restaurant/bar.

“That’s probably Malay…” Isobel said, “Hey, maybe they’re just like us! Let’s ask around in the restaurant later.”

“Yeah, we should.” George replied as Isobel backed into a parking spot they had just found.

Once the car was parked, George and Isobel got off and queued in line to enter the establishment known as the “Jolly Spittoon”. There was a bouncer standing guard at the entrance, seemingly interrogating anyone who tried to enter. The bouncer was wearing a dirty white t-shirt with a heart graphic that says “MOM". Eventually, it was Isobel and George’s turn to be interrogated.

“Welcome to the Jolly Spittoon.” the bouncer said, “How tough are ya?”

“How tough am I?” Isobel asked as if slightly offended, “HOW TOUGH AM I??? I drank orange juice this morning…”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Right after brushing my teeth!”

“Uh, r-right this way, ma’am!” the bouncer said while trembling in fear, “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Welcome to the Jolly Spittoon.” the bouncer said again, “How tough are ya?”

“How tough am I?” George asked, ““HOW TOUGH AM I?!?!?”

George grabbed the bouncer’s shirt and ripped the heart graphic out, before turning it upside down and slamming it back to the bouncer’s body.

“WOW.” George said, pointing at the now upside down heart graphic.

“Uhh… right this way, sir.” the bouncer said, still shocked at what had just happened, “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Amongst the rowdy crowd made up predominantly of tough, muscular men (and sometimes women), two people immediately stood out to George and Isobel. One of them looked like a doctor. She was about George’s height and had short, white hair with a slightly purple tinge. Next to her was a short, red-haired woman with an eyepatch, chatting with the man next to her.

“There they are.” George said, “I’ll try to approach them.”

“Alright.” Isobel said, “I’ll go to the bathroom while you’re at it.”

Isobel walked to the bathroom, while George started approaching the two women and the man. As George got closer, however, something was clearly not right.

“Y-you…” the woman with the eyepatch said, “You stay where? Let’s uhh… ano… Having fun tonight!”

“Sorry, Mei.” the man said, visibly uncomfortable, “I need to be somewhere by tomorrow, and it’s a long road out there, haha…”

“You hating me???” Mei asked with a noticeably sulky tone, “You was so sweet and so nice to me but you leaving me? Another woman?”

“No, no!” the man replied nervously, “I had a good time with you and you’re a great person, but my daughter’s birthday is tomorrow so…”

“D-daughter?” Mei uttered, “W-wife? Another woman?”

Mei drew her knife at the man’s throat. The man trembled in fear, not knowing if he would make it out of the situation alive.

“I not forgive you for dis…” Mei warned, “Sleep me together tonight or you’re die.”

“Hey, blackbeard!” George interrupted.

“Oh…” Mei responded, “Hey hey hey, mister… White knight!”

“I’m not here to help that man.” George said, “I just want to have a talk with you… and the doctor.”

The doctor turned towards George.

“How can I help?” she asked with a strong, foreign accent.

“You’re the owner of that Hinode ambulance outside, aren’t you?” George asked.

“Yes, we are.” the doctor replied, “What of it?”

“Well, this might be a weird thing to ask but how did you get here? You and your car certainly don’t look very American…”

“Is there a problem with that?” the doctor asked, slightly suspicious of George.

“There’s no problem with that.” George assured, “The thing is, my friend and I were-”

“URUSEEEEEEEEE!!!” Mei cried, downing the rest of her pint. “You are uhh… ano… ann-a-anno-ANNOYINGGU-hic!”

“Anyway, we were driving in the countryside when a huge flash appeared before us.” George continued, piquing the doctor’s interest, “That flashed completely surrounded us and-”

“Listening to me!” Mei cried, drawing her knife right at George’s throat, “I killing you if keep tricking Raina!”

“Yamero, Mei.” Raina said, “Kayaknya dia seperti kita…”

“MENENG!” Mei exclaimed, “I giving you five s-second to going away. Five… papat… san…”

“Dua…” Mei continued, “Ichi…”

WHACK!

Isobel knocked Mei out cold in the nick of time with a single punch to the side of her head in a scene that could come out of a UFC match. Mei was blown towards Raina, who caught Mei in her arms. Mei’s knife fell to the floor below, surprising nearby patrons for half a second before they went back to drinking as if nothing had happened.

“Sorry about that.” Raina said, “She just gets a little rowdy when she drinks.”

“A little?” George asked.

“Anyway, a similar thing happened to us today.” Raina said, “We were responding to an emergency in a village. The weather was terrible. Then suddenly, a flash appeared… And we ended up in the middle of this desert. I really don’t know what’s going on…”

“Neither do we.”

“Say… Raina, was it?” Isobel asked.

“Yes.” Raina said, “I’m Raina, and my friend here is Mei.”

“I see…” Isobel asked, “I’m Isobel, and my friend is George. Since we’re both stranded here… I think we should help each other. I don’t know where you’re from, but if we stick together we could just find our way home.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Raina said, “Mei and I are from Indonesia, actually. Where are you from?”

“I’m from Scotland and George’s from Northern England.” Isobel explained.

“Scotland?” Raina asked with some enthusiasm in her voice, “That’s where the Harold Potts stories take place! That’s so cool!”

“I don’t see why that’s so special…” Isobel said, “You’ve got to be the first person I’ve met who’s interested in Scotland, haha!”

“But Scotland looks so beautiful!” Raina countered, “But anyway, I think we should stay here for the night. Our car should be big enough for the four of us so you can sleep in our ambulance if you want. We’ll discuss our course of action when Mei wakes up tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Isobel said, “I think it’s best we put your friend to bed first. Then, we can discuss some more.”

“Alright then.” Raina said, carrying Mei on her shoulder, “Let’s go. Mind helping me, George?”

“Certainly.” George replied, coming to Raina’s aid, “Let’s go. Oh, and can you pick up the knife, Isobel?”

“Oh, sure.” Isobel said, “Although… we still haven’t gotten anything to eat.”

George’s stomach, along with Isobel’s growled. A grueling day of intense driving and teleportation into the place that is Nevada was taking its toll.

“We should get some burgers after this.” George said.

“We should.”

As the four stranded travelers left, the man tried to process everything that just happened.

“Bartender…” the man said, “Give me another one…”

TO BE CONTINUED

7 Likes

Team Magdalena

Prologue, Part 2
Unknown Date
Jolly Spittoon, Nevada, United States

After putting Mei to bed last night, there was still a lot for George, Isobel, and Raina to unpack. Firstly, they needed to know where they really were and if anything in the world they were in was different from the worlds they came from. And secondly, they needed to go somehow make their way back home

The first issue was resolved quickly. George and Isobel talked with Raina about world events and concluded that they came from the same world, except that Raina and Mei came from Indonesia which was halfway across the world from Scotland. Asking around the service station, the trio also found that the world they were in was also consistent with theirs. However, any record of themselves or their families seemed to not exist in whatever universe they are in now. They also found out it was the 27th of March, 2023.

The second issue was going to be a longer, more arduous process. Neither George and Isobel or Raina had money on them, much less US dollars. They could go out in search of opportunities, but they need fuel for that and their cars are all out of gas. Therefore, the only solution was to make some cash at the service station, and find their way to the nearest city where they have a better chance of returning home or to at least make a living and survive. The trio tried to explain their situation to the manager of the service station. However, he had a hard time even comprehending their situation. The bartender was far more understanding, and decided to let George and Isobel work at the Jolly Spittoon until they could get back on their feet.

The team’s first day at their job went relatively uneventfully. In the morning (after waking Mei up), they were taught how to serve customers and operate kitchen and counter equipment

It was noon. There weren’t many travellers that day so it was a slow day at the Jolly Spittoon. George and Raina were busy wiping the tables and counters, Isobel was preparing the kitchen for lunch hour, while Mei was busy chatting with a customer she just served, hoping to get an extra generous tip for being cute and, well… foreign.

Suddenly, something caught George’s attention. A group of cars parked in front of the bar. Judging by its license plate, as well as other details like the roof racks and sound of the engine, George figured that the cars were participating in some kind of race. After proving to the bouncer how tough each of them were, a group entered the bar and took a seat at the counter.

“Welcome to the Jolly Spittoon.” George said, “What can I get you?”

“Get us something to eat…” one of them said, “Oh, get us some sandwiches! Anything would do. Also, iced tea!”

“As you wish. Four sandwiches, Isobel! I’ll handle the drinks!”

“Would they be okay with hamburgers?” Isobel asked.

“Anything as long as it’s quick!” the customer said, “We’re starving here!”

“Would you like some fries with that too?” Raina asked.

“Ye, please! Make us something that puts KBF to shame!”

“Alright!” Isobel replied enthusiastically, “Four double cheeseburgers with fries, coming up!”

George, Isobel, and Raina went to work preparing the food. Isobel handled the burgers and Raina handled the fries, while George handled the drinks. Being the quickest to prepare, the iced tea came to the awaiting patrons first.

“Four iced teas!” George announced, “The burgers will be ready soon.”

“Thanks!” the customer said as George distributed the drinks around the rest of the group.

“Say, are you guys going on a road trip? It’s not every day that I get to see cars like yours outside.”

“Well we’re going rallying, actually. But they did say that it’s more like a road trip than an actual race. We’re gonna be driving through this “Aetherii” place. It’s literally a whole other planet”

“A-Aetherii? Where’s that?”

“I told you, it’s another planet! Different time progression, different cultures, different people, different animals! They’ve even got real-deal magic over there!”

“M-magic?”

“Four double cheeseburgers!” Isabel announced, distributing the food to the hungry patrons.

“Oh, that looks wonderful!” the customer said, grabbing the burger and taking a bite out of it. “Holy shit, this burger is out of this world!”

“I’m glad that you liked it.” Isabel said with a sincere smile on her face, “Anyway, what is this rally that you were just talking about?”

“Well, that was the gist of it, really. Go to an alien planet and drive. Arriving at the finish line is a victory in itself!”

“That sounds like something I’d want to do!” Isabel commented, looking at George. “Where do we sign up?”

“The starting point should be an hour down this road.” the customer said, “We got an email about it last October but I think walk-ins are welcome! I’ll vouch for you if anything happens!”

“An extra large bowl of fries!” Raina said as she brought an extra large bowl of fries to the table, “What’s going on here?”

“I think we’ve found our next step, Raina.” George explained as she brought Raina to the kitchen to discuss the matter more privately, “We’re gonna leave this place and go to another planet to take part in a long road trip!”

“W-what?!? Another planet? Road trip?”

George explained the concept of the rally to Raina. Still though, she was not entirely convinced.

“How exactly are we gonna fund an expedition like that?” Raina asked.

“Well…” George said, “Isobel doesn’t know about this, but I’ve hidden 500 quid from one of our victories in our car in case something bad happens. It’s worthless here, but those people said that we could exchange it for whatever currency they’re using out there. We’ve a better chance of making it on an alien planet than, well… Nevada.”

“But still, that’s too much of a gamble. The manager has been kind enough to listen to us and even land us a job here. I think we should just play with the hand we are dealt with to the best of our ability”

“Raina, we don’t exist here. There are no records of us or those we love anywhere. If we go to this Aetherii place, who knows? Maybe we could find some answers and find our way back home.”

“We’ll have to think about it some more… And we have to let Mei know about this too.”

Mei was at the cashier processing her customer’s payment and sure enough, the customer handed her a few extra bills. Mei looked ecstatic and thanked the customer in an equally cute, if not fanservice-y fashion.

“Someone’s just won the lottery.” George said.

“Well, no language barrier is gonna stop her rizz.” Raina replied, “Think about your whole rally thing more carefully. I’ll go tell Mei.”

(…)

Anything is better when you’re not in the state of Nevada, so of course they decided to go. The four scavenged for whatever they could use from the gas station and just threw them into the car to make them rally worthy, and bought supplies using whatever money they earned. On the 31st, the four bid the Jolly Spittoon farewell and headed for the meeting point. For whatever reason, the customers they talked to were not there. And so begins the journey of Team Magdalena.

TO BE CONTINUED

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Team Magdalena
Character designs and illustrations by @EnCR

The Team
Isobel MacAllan

Nationality Scottish

Vehicle(s) 1988 Baumhauer 423 Vier (rally car), 2005 Marseille Workmate (daily)

Bio Isobel is an amateur rally driver who is on her way to making it big. She is strong-minded and has a strong sense of responsibility. While she has a good relationship with her family, she felt that her upbringing hinted that her parents wanted a son and so she was raised to stand up to the boys in her group. This led to her having a somewhat tomboy-ish personality and would eventually start her attraction to rallying.

Extended Bio

Isobel was born into wealth; her family owns and runs a well-known whiskey distillery. Despite this, Isobel was taught to work hard and make sacrifices along the way. She was also taught to stand up for herself so she can live independently and make something of herself instead of relying solely on the family fortune.

Isobel excelled in her studies and was initially interested in the various machines and processes employed to make her family’s coveted whiskey. As she grew up, however, her interest in the trade waned. Isobel wanted to explore the world around her. She wanted autonomy, and she also wanted a thrill. Those itches were scratched by rallying. It all started with a video game she played during middle school. Once she got her driver’s license, she bought her first car (a Marseille Thaleia) with her savings and took it racing at local rallycross championships.

Isobel’s parents were initially against her going rallying, believing that she should be running the distillery instead. As Isobel continued to prove her worth on the track, however, her parents became supportive of rallying. Impressed by her skills, local businesses began to sponsor Isobel as she rose through the ranks in the world of rallying.

Contrary to expectations, Isobel was not privileged, and her rally ambitions were funded solely by her savings, championship wins, and sponsorship money. Isobel’s parents offered to sponsor her first under their name and another time under the distillery’s name, but Isobel refused. As Isobel’s career progressed and her competitors got tougher, she decided to sell the Marseille and bought and converted an old Baumhauer, which currently serves as her rally car. Again, all the money for the Baumhauer came right out of her pocket.

Isobel is very fond of hamburgers. She often makes hamburgers at home since there are no fast food restaurants near her area and shares them with George and his little brother whenever they come over to her place.


George Peterson

Nationality English

Vehicle(s) 1986 Seikatsu StarCruiser 106L Wagon Diesel Turbo-F

Bio George is Isobel’s co-driver/mechanic, helping her navigate through courses during races and repairing/upgrading the rally car when he is not in a race. He is humble and hardworking, with a particular interest in machines and horticulture. He has a good relationship with Isobel as a partner in her rallying endeavours.

Extended Bio

George’s family runs a small farm in Northern England, where works on the field or in the shed. As a result of this, George has developed exceptional mechanical and horticultural expertise which he used to fix and improvise farm machinery, and to improve the efficiency of the farm’s crops. Even though he is very dedicated to the farm, George also has the urge to seek out other opportunities and explore the world around him.

The opportunity came when the MacAllans’ car broke on a rainy afternoon near Peterson’s farm. George offered the family shelter in the Petersons’ farmhouse, which they obliged to. This was when George first met Isobel, who got to know each other while waiting for the rain to subside. Upon knowing Isobel’s career in rallying, George offered to work for her as a mechanic to which she obliged, leading to the partnership they have today.

In addition to farm work and rallying, George is studying agricultural technology part-time. Like Isobel, George is fond of hamburgers and would take his brother to town on weekends to the local fast food joint.


Raina Kurniaputri

Nationality Indonesian

Vehicle(s) 2002 Hinode Rusa 4x4 ambulance, 2004 Yamazaki Super X 125, 2009 Hinode Tempest 350 Prestige (collecting dust)

Bio Raina is a medic stationed in the deep interior of Papua. She is strong, stubborn, and kind, Raina believes that all lives are equal and frequently gets into arguments with her superiors over her conduct. Still, her skills as a medical practitioner were second to none. She works together with Mei and a handful of other medics to serve their community’s medical needs though sometimes they travel by helicopter to help and deal with emergencies in even more isolated regions.

Extended Bio

Before working in Papua, Raina was a rising star in Indonesia’s medical world, being a skilled neurosurgeon in a hospital in Surabaya. However, everything changed when Raina decided to save the life of a random construction worker who arrived at the emergency ward before of the mayor of the city who also needed to undergo a complex surgery.

That incident wiped Raina’s medical ambitions in an instant and she fell out of favour with her superiors. Raina fought back fiercely against her superiors and local politicians, standing her ground and keeping to her moral principles. After a lot of back and forth, Raina was given two options by her superiors and their cronies: get transferred to a remote village or lose her medical license. Raina opted for the former.

Now stationed in Papua, Raina continued to help her community and save lives with the same vigor as she did before, although her career progression there was essentially nil. Since the local clinic was small, Raina handled everything from administrative to paramedic work. Volunteers would come to the clinic at times to help, easing Raina’s work and breathing life into the isolated community.

Raina is fluent in Indonesian and English, but she is learning Japanese from Mei as well.


Hamazaki Mei

Nationality Japanese

Vehicle(s) 2015 Yamazaki Scoop!, 1986 Hinode MID2 (collecting dust in Japan)

Bio Mei is a medic working together with Raina. She is a resourceful, charismatic, fast-talking, promiscuous, and commanding woman dedicated to her humanitarian mission. She is tough and is incredibly loyal to her friends and comrades, doing anything in her power to protect them. She is incredibly clingy, much to Isobel’s occasional annoyance.

Extended Bio

Mei was born in Japan and studied to become a doctor, volunteering in humanitarian missions during breaks to inflate her CV. In her third year as a student, Mei travelled to Papua where she met and worked with Raina, treating the villagers and, occasionally, police officers, rebels, and soldiers.

Mei likes cute stuffed animals (bears in particular) and cartoons from the 1990s. While she usually acts strong, Mei is very clingy and needs to hug and cuddle her peers every so often to relieve her of her stress and anxiety. She is fluent in Japanese and Indonesian, and is learning to speak English from George and Isobel.


The Cars

Left: 1988 Baumhauer 423 Vier rally car
Right: 2002 Hinode Rusa 4x4 ambulance


@EnCR

8 Likes

Team VSmgAB

Campsite Power Speech
Friendship! :D’s sentient cars.
Pre-Race Camp
Stage 0 Drive


Stage 0 Camp; Part 1


A grueling 9 hours later, the team arrived in Nehmenweld. Immediately, the cold became obvious, thus making the immediate first order of business to bundle up in an attempt to not freeze. This especially bothered cold-sensitive Valentin, who practically sprinted to his lodging trailer and scrambled for the layers of clothing. Norse and the ‘Speshul Forces’ did the same, albeit with marginally less urgency.

Now that the immediate threat of freezing was averted, the generator was set up with everything needed, running within minutes and made available to everyone with a blow of the whistle.
This not only drew the customer teams, but also a local truck resembling a model T tanker truck, which was used to transfer fuel from itself to Robert’s fuel trailer as agreed upon with local railroad operators months before arrival.

Eventually, with fuel for the night being secured and their own lodging hooked up, Valentin was visibly tired.

“I am going to bed now. Here is the list with all the plug numbers. Just match the team name to the plugs they go into.” Valentin told towards Norse, handing a small slip of paper to him containing the aforementioned info…
"Uhm… shouldn’t be too hard, i think. Goodnight then… Well… “night”, Norse replied as he went towards the generator car, leaving Valentin to go to bed.


Meanwhile at the military half of the team, they took the time to settle into the cold as well, when Constantin rounded up the five recruits:

“Alright. Now, our mission starts proper. The way it works is going to be as follows: We have three pairings already established via vehicle staffing. Each team will be on watch for four hours and then be handed off to the next one. Dupont and I start, followed by Jacknabbit and Muller, then Patel and Reynolds. Rinse and repeat until departure tomorrow morning. Report anything that may endanger civilians in camp. Before we start the rotation, i want to know if you can actually still hit a target. Which means. Get suited up for combat!” Constantin explains, followed by the whole group heading to their two trailers to equip standard issue weaponry for the recruits, with Constantin following suit, but also taking a gun case along for the trip.

With everything in hand, but nothing loaded yet, they head over to Shift Happens…

to be continued

3 Likes

Team Shift Happens

Prologue, Part 3
Powering Up
Driver’s Log 2
Drivers’ Meeting


Stage 0 Camp, Arrival.

As the two huge trucks crunched through the snow on the road, 32 cylinders howling through the exhaust as the automatics kicked down to deal with the higher rolling friction, Kasiya aimed for a large space set aside for their main camp.

Kasiya and Takaraya bailed out of the cab of their respective HD-GV units, making their way quickly to the Carry All’s cargo section where their clothing had been packed. Takaraya saw Kasiya hesitating for a moment between just wearing his heavy winter clothing, or going for his armor, and said, “You do realize Kaylie wouldn’t let them in if they weren’t going to be safe to be around, right?”

Kasiya put his winter gear back in the box, pulled on his insulating under-armor suit, and stepped into his power armor, the solid clunk of 1100 pounds of metal surrounding him giving him a reassuring feeling. “Yeah, and yet Kaylie also told us to bring guns,” Kasiya replied, stepping out of the trailer and landing on the ground with a muffled thud.

Takaraya sighed, putting his winter gear on and joining most of the remaining team in the process of setting up tents. Kaylie looked over at him and back to Kasiya, then said, “Looks like Kasiya’s still a bit concerned.”

“Yeah, he was contemplating winter clothes when I mentioned you wouldn’t have let the cars run if they weren’t safe. That’s when he suited up,” Takaraya said.

Kaylie grimaced. “That was foolish of you,” she replied.

“You would let teams run who aren’t safe?” Takaraya asked.

“You think the Sinesian Rejects would survive if they crashed that welded-together aluminum bucket of theirs? Or that the Hillbilly Rollers are exactly safe? Or that half of these teams carrying guns actually know how to use them safely? Hell no,” Kaylie said.


Kivenaal, on the other hand, was busy setting up a target range while most of the camp was pitching tents. Still dressed in his gunslinger outfit, he stayed warm courtesy of his natural fur, even as he crunched his way through icy snow to set up several roughly-human-sized targets, including a few way the fuck out there for sniping practice, placed at 350 meters, for those inclined to give that a try.

He stuck a few tables down to make reloading less of a bitch at the firing line, as well as to make it more difficult to end up walking out into the field of fire by accident, then decided his range was good enough.


Kasiya, meanwhile, had taken up the task of putting the camp lights up, making sure they were spread out reasonably well, as well as ensuring the few outhouses placed around had a light nearby to make finding them in the dark easier.

He brought the numbered cable over to Norse, who plugged it into socket #2, and the camp immediately lit up a bit better as the lights came on. Takaraya arrived a moment later with cables #3 and #30, which were likewise connected, providing power to the Home Unit, as well as the Carry-All and the two refrigerated trailers respectively. The dull buzzing of the gasoline engines in the three refrigerated units went silent as the electric motors took over, while in the Home Unit, the heat exchanger’s fans spun up to speed to return the cabin to a comfortable temperature.

Jayde and Rukari worked together on making a simple campfire stew using some of the perishables they’d brought onboard one of the trailers, at least until the whole group was approached by the Speshul Forces and Constantin…

To Be Continued…

3 Likes

Team Cunning Stunts

@GetWrekt01 and @That-S-cop



The Team

Zachary Kenway:
An unfortunate case of growing up in rural England and being far too ambitious, This son of a mechanic, with a penchant for driving quick, is the Team Leader and who got the rest of this gaggle of petrolheads together.

Liviana Harrington:
A Yorkshire girl with an interest in Zack and Automobiles, since Highschool Zack and Liv have been inseparable, working on cars and spending School events together.

Sophie Harrington
Liviana’s younger sister by 3 years, Her schtick is calculated risk and being barely on the correct side of the law, by all accounts she’s the 3rd wheel here.

Murray Harrison
Australian in Nature and Air-conditioning Serviceman in trade, Son of a Tamworth NSW Truckie by the name of Russell, His workvan is a K78 Masakari that he regularly takes trips out in with his Girlfriend to the outback.

Lana White
A Bondi Girl in the Bondi Beach Surf Lifesaving club, she’s practically entirely adrenaline and medical knowledge with a penchant for being quick on a Quadbike, She met Murray while in her Highschool years at a V8 Supercars event at Sydney Motorsport Park.

The Vehicles

Windsor Contra Utility - Dune Hopper

A Vehicle nameplate that hadn’t been in American Production in this model year, but existed in the Australian Market, Zack found this one in the UK and modified it for SR2023 accordingly with an engine swap, Suspension, Extra Tyres and Extra fuel.

VHT Supermobile - Sand Hopper

An ex Military Class 6 Crane truck, converted to use as a Stunt truck in the mid 2000’s then left at a Movie Production Junkyard in Broken Hill, Murray found this truck with help from his Dad after getting into contact with Zach. Effectively yanked from the junkyard, along with a Campervan stuffed on a rented Semi Trailer and trucked to a Workshop behind Russell’s Garlandale G500 (Pictured behind the vehicles), Assembled into a living quarters, and emergency medical bay on the behest of Lana, on Civilian Axles with extra spare parts from Murray’s Work van.

Chapter 0

Coming soon, delayed by Get Wrekt’s Schedule, will be plugged when this comes.

Chapter 0.5

Team Cunning Stunts after their arrival in the USA several days before the event started and screaming out to Nevada at the edges of the heat soak of the Tyres fitted.
It’s very Familiar but somewhat foreign at the same time, Mostly to the Australians in the Group, with rented Campers being as slow as the campers Murray finds on Highway 1, as Murray briefly re-enacts what his Dad used to do when he had a Cabover Garlandale Q104, Still very weird why Camper people drive so slow. In which the team arrive Arriving at camp on the meeting date by around 4:03 PM. Technical Inspection went slowly due to having to reconfigure the Left side Fuel tanks to be Manual Transfer tanks due to a Capacity item on the list, not a hard job for Murray, having brought all his tools in the Toolboxes.


Post not entirely finalised, But this is at least a Foot and several trucks in the wall. S-cop Out.
10 Likes

Team Sane Insanity

Part 0.3 Cars Have Their Own Opinions Too

Pre-Drive

Following the drivers meeting, Sane Insanity had a rush to pack up the camp and decide who would be driving. Of course, Andrew, who absolutely hates the KKR, volunteered himself out of KKR driving duty. Nathan does not tolerate any dissent towards the KKR, so he grabbed a roll of duct tape and began to drag Andrew to the KKR, kicking and screaming. Nathan then duct taped Andrew’s hands to the shifter and the steering wheel, turned on the ignition, and walked away. With only a few minutes left and neither of his hands being particularly useful for removing duct tape, Andrew had to drive the KKR. Nathan hopped into the driver’s seat of the Voyage, and the team patiently waited in line to set off.

Stage 0 Drive

The team began their drive in the Rift in varying degrees of misery. Andrew was going deaf and shattering his spine, as the KKR lacked any sound deadening and had a hard suspension setup. Nathan, who was driving the Roadmaster, was having a heart attack trying to not damage the car. Honking the horn at anyone who dared to get within 50 feet of the Roadmaster meant honking at everyone, getting lots of disapproval from the other drivers who did not understand this aggressive behavior. Multiple cars thought it would be an entertaining attempt to give the Roadmaster a tap on the side, or oblivious to the existence of a large block of steel. Eventually, things calmed down and Nathan tried to relax and enjoy the drive. However, courtesy of Cunning Stunts, that turned out to be impossible.

It was Raymond who noticed the VHT Supermobile.

“Uh, that truck is coming up fast and not slowing down.”

Indeed, the VHT Supermobile was barreling down towards the Roadmaster, getting much too close to comfort. At first, the team hoped that the truck would maintain some reasonable distance. However, it did not and the Roadmaster began expressing its discontent with some loud beeping, courtesy of the parking sensors.

“Hurry up and do something!” Raymond, now panicking at the close proximity of the truck and the possible damage that would be inflicted on the car.

“I’m trying, I’m trying” Nathan shouted back, doing absolutely nothing, boxed in on all sides.

The Roadmaster continued its own tirade at the Team Cunning Stunts, by increasing the volume of its incessant beeping.

“Turn it off, turn it off!!” shouted Nathan, trying to be heard.

Despite the clear instructions, Raymond instead grabbed the CB radio and began shouting into it.

“Cunning Stunts, back off please! We don’t need an accident right now.”

The only response appeared to be some snickering, but neither occupant of the Voyage could precisely discern what it was as the beeping got even louder and more frequent. At this point, Nathan just started pounding every single button at random, barely able to focus on the road. He succeeded in turning off all the driver assists and blasting the air conditioning before finding the parking sensor button. With no possibility of escaping, his only choice was to hold his speed and hope for the best. If the VHT Supermobile rammed into the Voyage, there would likely be a large pileup, and more importantly, lots of complicated and likely impossible insurance paperwork to deal with. Of course, multiple times, the VHT Supermobile came within millimeters of the minivan, but Cunning Stunts was somehow able to stop at the last second. Perhaps the VHT Supermobile had automatic emergency braking or adaptive cruise control, or Cunning Stunts had very good drivers. Despite whatever witchery Cunning Stunts was using, Sane Insanity was completely traumatized by this experience and spent the next hours watching the rearview mirror. They also spent the time reflecting on the poor choice to bring a rental car to a banger rally.

Meanwhile, Andrew was beginning to have a bit of a love-hate relationship with the KKR. Sure there was little in the form of creature comforts, it was fun to rev and had a great exhaust note… However, he was still hoping and praying that the car would break down so he could get some peace and quiet and take a break from all the growling, tire noise, and wind.

Raymond and Andrew began having a conversation about the KKR, attempting to ignore Cunning Stunts aggressive behavior, who were still ominously following in the rearview mirror.

“He is going to break that car” Raymond noticed, judging by the aggressiveness of Andrew’s driving.

“There is nothing that could break in that car, what could possibly go wrong?” was Andrew’s response. His prediction was then disproven with a loud clunking noise from the KKR and lots of vibration. The KKR immediately stopped in the middle of the road, with the Voyage forced to stop much further ahead, as they could not risk getting smashed by Cunning Stunts. Thankfully, Hillbilly Rollers broke down at the exact same time, so the entire convoy ground to a halt.

“Can someone please remove the duct tape?” begged Andrew, thankful that the torture had finally ended.

“No!” responded Nathan, finding the violation of the eighth amendment (no cruel or unusual torture) to be far more amusing. The KKR was then jacked up with Andrew still inside, breaking every rule of standard workshop safety.

Andrew began to take advantage of his wish coming true and took a nap, while Raymond and Nathan began to inspect the damage and remove the half shaft.

“Why can’t you let him help us” complained Raymond

Knowing waking Andrew would be a difficult and time consuming process, and having no other reasonable rationale, Nathan said “Do you want to try to wake him up?”

“Uh, no thanks,” Raymond responded before continuing to work.

This repair process took many hours, delaying the trip for everyone. Needless to say, all the teams were annoyed and frustrated, except those with their own breakdowns, and Team MAD, who probably got some amusing footage for their documentary.

After this repair, Andrew woke up again the moment the KKR was off the jack stands and on solid ground.

“How many minutes have passed?”asked a confused and sleepy Andrew.

Raymond consulted his watch. “240 minutes, give or take”

Additional driving took place after Hillbilly Rollers got their clutch fixed. It was the same drill, drive, drive, oblivious driver on the left, lose hearing, more driving. The cool weather of the Rift eventually gave way to the deep freeze of the aptly named Shiverwind Point. The pair in the Voyage were in relative comfort, Andrew had a new pain point to complain about the KKR, the surprising lack of any heating in the car. Eventually, the team rolled into camp, exhausted by the long day of driving, mechanical difficulties and being tailgated by a large truck. Needless to say, Sane Insanity had to do something about this. None of them realized that one of the possible solutions was “drive faster.”

3 Likes

Team Not-So Slow
Chapter 2, Part 1.- The other side wants a chat with you.


narration is honestly amazing

As we were waiting in the starting area, The leading team (Shift Happens) gives the two of us the rings. It would be terrible if we lost them. Matt and Izzy get into the car, and then after hearing the announcements, especially the one Izzy should be more concerned about, although that was dealt with a long long time ago (in a galaxy far away).

“I’d like you remind you, Don’t fuck this one up too.” Matt says in a stern manner to Izzy, she agrees reluctantly. We then drive to the Shiverwind Point via the al-mighty Rift. Which would take us around 8 hours or something, As Matt is driving, he goes in there in a civillised way, to not alert the police,

Prior knowledge of the Rift allowed us to head in there with no problems (aka not turning it into a parking lot), Some time later, we eventually make it to camp, “The way we just go into the Rift, it’s like, something cool.” Izzy says to Matt. Matt then replies with “Waiting that year was worth it though, all the cars just parked here, Anyway…”

The team start setting up camp, As it gets cold outside, the two get changed into winter attire to comfortably stay at camp until next stage. Izzy shuts off the car so it could cool down after all that driving and then we set up the tent, and our sleeping equipment.

“Matt, you sure this tent is easy to set up?” Izzy asks him in a concerning way. Matt then reassures her with “Yeah, it’s actually just as easy as installing a standard tent, although the pegs are stronger and that. Oh and here’s one light for if we need it in the tent”. He hands it over to her, she then takes it and installs it, hanging on the tent roof.

Izzy: You sure you haven’t fucked up the car driving it like that for a bit Matt?

Matt: No, i’ve seen people drive cars far harder and theirs are still intact, we should be good.

Izzy: Might make this thing somewhat more aerodynamic to save fuel economy. Anything beats 60 dollars a gallon

Matt: We’re driving a small car, girl. Besides, it’s only gonna do what, a small amount of duct taping the panel gaps and maybe putting dinner plates on the wheels?

Izzy checks the trunk, and realises we’ve only got around 5 sets of duct tape and some sellotape for when things go wrong.

TO BE CONTINUED.

3 Likes

MACHINAS CON PASSIONE’S SHITBOX ADVENTURES, TAKE 2: Misery and Happiness

9:58 AM
Shitbox Rally 2023 Nevada camp


The time had finally come, though the wait for the members of MCP had been less exasperating then it had been for most teams, with the nature of their operation being more ramshackle then most. This cobbled together attitude was no more present then, two minutes before they were scheduled to race, Johnny Scarfiotti, driver of the Faenza Spirito and the guy who the teams entire hopes were pinned on, was struggling to get dressed before the stage, hobbling outside the Blue Wonder in his boxers as he desperately scrambled to pull his pants over his leg, with his foot being caught in his pocket and him being seconds from collapsing over, running the risk of getting sand into places he’d be trying to wash it out of for weeks to come. For a man with locks as fluffy as Johnny’s, it’d be a death knell for his killer looks.

Johnny stopped to ponder if he could pull off the “sand dusted beach himbo” look of the late 2000s for a moment before remembering he had around 57 seconds to get into his car and ready to race, managing to win the war he’d waged against his own pants just in time for a rival team driving past to catch him wriggling his eyebrows at the camera they had pointed his way before he slipped into his shirt and sprinted for the Faenza. Good thing they didnt see his heart boxers.

7:00 AM
Shitbox Rally Nevada Camp

Giacomo, in contrast, had actually waken up early and had gotten dressed, a herculean task accomplished with no small amount of help from Alessio and Hikiko effectively babying him. The two were renowned workaholics, a sharp contrast from the idiot savant status Giacomo had carved out for himself, being able to provide the results of his father without the work ethic or skills outside of making engines go fast.

Alessio and Hikiko actually spent most of the morning fine tuning and performing final checks on the F5000, though Hikiko had suggested the idea as a way of getting close to the hefty V8. “You know, most of your designs seem to obsess over pushrod designs. Was it your way of prioritizing low end torque and getting ahead of your competitors? I imagine they had a hard time beating you off the line.” Hikiko poised to Alessio, hoping to gain some insider knowledge on how the mind of a renowned genius worked. Though they had worked closely together over the past decade or so, the two rarely crossed streams, preferring to allow each to work at their strengths with little overlap. Alessio scratched his head at the inquiry, though.

“Well, I just really like cramming big engines into small spaces. The torque is a bonus, but when I started, OHV engines weren’t really being taken seriously in europe, so I would make these huge 7 or 8 liter engines and shove them in the back of whatever I was racing. I actually did get alot of torque doing it, but the main idea was just making a big engine because I could. You can imagine that I busted more than my fair share back in the day.” Hikiko smirked, and reached into the engine, opening the throttle and letting the engine redline for a brief moment, the smell of kerosene peforating her lungs as the v8 roared to life, clearly unaffected, on an audible level at least, by the switch in fuel.

“You know, in all of my years of F5000, I never ended up replacing this one, I didn’t really have the budget since it was more of a side hustle thing for me. Just rebuilt it if it broke, and here it is, at the Shitbox rally. 50 years actually, to the day that it was first built.” Hikiko ran her hand through her hair, not sure if this was the peak or the low point for the little engine that could. All she could muster at that revelation was a faint “Huh.”

Giacomo, meanwhile, had started working on his technical drawings, sketching out in minute detail the exquisite, box inspired design of the Spirito. Though originally intended as a cheap option for Italian families to drive cars that actually functioned on a day to day basis, it’d instead been converted to a lightweight, power-mad chihuahua of a car. As simple as the design was, Giacomo had wrapped up his drawing of the exterior, pretty accurately conveying that rather than straight lines, rather than being an aesthetic choice like they are in most cars, were the only choice made here. Boxes into boxes and boxes. With around 0.5 seconds of consideration for the full business suit he was wearing, Giacomo quickly dove under the car, sketching all of the intricate details, which he would likely look back on once and never again, such is the mind of the man we all come to know and… Love? Loathe? Some weird mixture of those two things.

Ryouchi, in contrast to everyone else, was still moping about. He’d awoken much earlier than other members of the camp, and spent the morning doing his daily exercises, a habit gained during his recovery over the past few months. A 5 mile run, pushups, which weren’t really an option, so were substituted with 5 more miles of running, squats, which would nomrally be substituted with 5 miles of running, Ryouchi had already jogged 10 miles from camp with around 2 hours to get himself back to camp or risk being tardy for the first stage. After jogging 9 miles, Ryouchi came to a stop at a slight hill, overlooking the camps of the 29 teams who’d showed up to this years edition of the rally. His first thoughts, of course, turned to MCP, the team responsible for his continued employment as a racing driver. Ryouchi took as seat as he contemplated his place, not only in the team but in the world as well, though he normally strayed from thinking about the future much, the picturesque Nevadan scenery and runners high that now blanketed both his mind and body gave him a moment of clarity, as he took a breather before returning to camp.

Ryouchi thought of the past. His mother, Hikiko, a great racer in her own right, was both the best and worst thing about his career. Thanks to her connections, Ryouchi was able to climb up the motorsport ladder while he watched his friends and peers drop out, fail to make the cut or just quit altogether. 19 years of racing, 19 years of time, money, effort and dreams of getting into Formula One. The big show, the number one symbol of opulence and success in the racing world, but when the time came to perform and show up? It turned out Ryouchi and his friends were more alike than he thought. 3 years later, and 5 million dollars of spiraled down the drain. And yet, his luck never seemed to run out, all thanks to a well timed vacation. Everything seemed to fall into his lap then, a basically guaranteed seat in NASCAR, all he had to do was finish races, and finish Ryouchi did, but not much else. Flash forward to last year? 10 wrecked racecars and Johnny winning his first race later, the writing’s on the wall. Maybe being a co-driver wasn’t so bad. Or a businessman, maybe a college student or some bum. Surely there was something Ryouchi was cut out for outside of the racing scene. A deep sigh later, Ryouchi found himself turning hisattention away from MCP’s hopes and dreams for the moment, looking into the distance, revealing all manner of vehicles who would now serve as competitors, rivals, and maybe, just maybe. Friends. “Welp. No use moping around.” Ryouchi broke the silence, his words matted by the carpet of sand and dust that surrounded him for miles to come. Ryouchi stood up, taking the chance to slide down the embankment he found himself on, and nearly careened right into Johnny as they prepared to enter the rift, and to start the long journey ahead.


Shitbox Rally 2023 - THE RIFT

Giacomo, having entered the year prior and fully anticipating the rift would shake the nerves of his teammates, decided to, among many things, not mention a single word about the interplanetary rift they’d need to travel through in order to actually participate in the rally itself. As such, most of the essentials such as bug spray and Johnny’s birdwatching manual went unused on the first day of the rally, instead providing a cushion for the young driver as he tried to cope with the severely stripped down nature of the Faenza, though it did little to help cope with the anxiety of being cooped up in a 1,500 pound freezer. Ryouchi, on the other hand, realizing he wouldn’t be needed to guide Johnny in a straight line, took the opportunity to get some shuteye, thus saving him from the looming image of Giacomo in the blue wonder taking up every inch of their mirrors as the Faenza struggled to keep ahead of Giacomo’s incessant tailgating.

Inside the Blue Wonder, a silent hostage negotiation of sorts was underway, with Alessio and Hikiko wordlessly debating how best to convince Giacomo to quit scaring the absolute shit out of his one and only nephew. Wrenching the wheel away from him WOULD actually work quite well, but running the risk of hitting any other cars was something that made that option a no go. Asking Giacomo politely, though a likely success, would distract him, and probably result in Ryouchi and Johnny becoming little more than smears in the road, so that was off the table as well.

While the two furiously communicated using the time tested method of “look at where i’m looking, no not there, over there”, their saving grace came in the form of the low fuel light turning on, allowing the team to stop and negotiate with the man. Upon pulling over, in the process locking up and giving the Faenza a love tap, and in the process, it’s first dent. As they got out, Hikiko and Alessio battled each other in a lethal game of rock paper scissors, with the loser having to convince Giacomo to not drive like he was in a BMW. Alessio sent his paper paladin to battle against the scissor sentry Hikiko had brought, and as a result made his way over to his beloved son, Giacomo, who was giddily declaring that festivities were in order.

Johnny took the opportunity to get as much fresh air as he was gonna get in the brief respite that re-fueling the Blue Wonder would provide, as Giacomo declared, with his entire body to accentuate, “With this fuel economy, VICTORY IS OUR-” CLANK Every head in a mile radius turned to look at Giacomo, who, in his excitement, had kicked out a tire on the Faenza. Looks like that one was original. It was thus that the group came to the conclusion that the back of the Spirito would be much more fitting for Giacomo, giving him some time to cool off while Hikiko took over driving duties. That he was tied and bound and thrown there against his will is another matter entirely and of no relevance to the story. A quick tire change later and Giacomo’s muffled screams being ignored, our journey finds us nearing the other side, the end of the rift, and the start of:

MACHINAS CON PASSIONE’S SHITBOX ADVENTURES, TAKE 2: Misery and Happiness

(P.S: fuck me that took a long time to write)

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