Please refrain from double posting. It clogs up a thread, notifies everyone that a new post has been made every time someone visits the forums, and it just doesn’t look good.
Edit the original reply, or better yet, use discord to communicate stuff that’s not strictly urgent.
Thank you.
I didnt realise I could do two quotes in one post
soz
Prologue
Harcourt-Entwhistle House - Surrey
Mopey – Gran, gran, we’re off again!!
Gran – Oh, another road trip, how exciting. George, dear, don’t be rude and say hello to Prudence.
Mopey – Hi Auntie Pru.
Prudence – Hello George. Another road trip, I wish I was young enough to join you.
Gran – Nonsense Prudence, you’re never too old. David will just have to clear some space for you.
Prudence – So where are we going to?
Mopey – Nehmenweld in Aetherii.
Prudence – Sounds German to me.
Gran – We can have a look in the Atlas. Where is David?
Mopey – He’s at the garage with the cars.
Gran – Cars? Plural?
Mopey – Yes, come and see……
Mopey – SPANNERS, WE’RE HEEEERREEEEE!!!
Spanner wheels out from under his van.
Spanners – Hey Mrs E. Nanna, what are you doing here?
Gran – Your grandmother is joining us this time, dear. George said that we had multiple vehicles. Is that true?
Spanners – Yes. We’ve got a 1970 HiWay Rally but it was restored and modernised in 2010. And we’re taking my van. So, I thought you and, now, Nanna could take that as support. I was going to ask someone else but it looks like you’ve chosen your co-pilot already.
Prudence – George said we’re going to Germany but it’s not somewhere I’ve heard of before.
Spanners – Germany? We’re going to Nehmenweld on Aetherii and……
Gran – Surely you mean “IN” Aetherii, which sounds middle eastern or African to me.
Spanners – Erm…No……Aetherii is a different planet and Nehmenweld is one of the continents.
Prudence – Oh dear, David, have you been smoking “those” cigarettes again?
Spanners – No Nanna….it’s true……
Gran – But….but….but….how do we get there? Do I need vaccinations? What’s the cuisine like? Are there hostile indigenous people….are there PEOPLE AT ALL? Are there vicious animals? Is there OXYGEN……Oh, dear, I feel faint….
Spanners runs and catches Gran as she starts to fall.
Several hours later at Harcourt-Entwhistle House…….
Gran – Oh, I’ve just had the most horrendous nightmare. I dreamt that we were going on a road trip to another planet.
Prudence – We are Betty.
Gran – My dear, dear, Prudence….I’ve told you before….NEVER CALL ME BETTY!!!
Prudence – Sorry Elizabeth…
Gran – So how do we get there? What clothes do I pack? Can you import food items over there? What about petrol? What about water? Oh dear, I feel faint again……
Prudence – Calm down and breathe into this paper bag. David’s explained everything and we’ll be fine. We drive to the departure area and just drive through a rift and we’ll….
Gran – RIFT??? RIFT??? I’ve seen Torchwood and RIFTS ARE NEVER GOOD……Oh heavens….
Team HETS (Harcourt-Entwhistle Tuppington-Smythe)
Race car
1970 Franklin Marshall HiWay Rally
Restored and modernised in 2010.
2.5L, i4, NA engine producing 250HP
6 speed manual transmission and still RWD
Drivers
Spanners – ex-REME, general fix-it man……if it’s got an engine or something that moves then he can fix it. If it shouldn’t move then he’ll stop it.
George Harcourt-Entwhistle III – 19 years old and used to mope a lot……nicknamed Mopey. Knows about electronics and computers. No mechanical affinity but can program ECUs.
Support Vehicle
Spanners’ 1998 FM VanGo. Nothing really to say about it except the interior had to have the seats upgraded for the pensioners!
Holds multiple spare parts for both vehicles, tools and general survival items (food, shelters, cooking ability)
Drivers
Mrs Elizabeth Harcourt-Entwhistle (Gran or Mrs E……NEVER Betty!!) – Pensioner, widow of George Harcourt-Entwhistle, mother of George Harcourt-Entwhistle II and grandmother of Mopey. Recent hip operation means that she isn’t as mobile anymore so the actual “racing” isn’t possible. Veteran of multiple rallys from the 1960s up until the hip operation. Doesn’t like course language….but once she’s had a tipple………
Mrs Prudence Tuppington-Smythe (Auntie Pru, Nanna) – Pensioner, grandmother of David Tuppington-Smythe (Spanners……Yes, he FINALLY has a surname!!!) and very good friend of Elizabeth Harcourt-Entwhistle. Bored and lonely she decided to join the team.
Team Sinesian Rejects
Team information
Previous part (Part 0.67 - Wonderful pieces of sh-)
Next part (Part 1 - Sunday Friday driver)
Part 0.99 - Turn it off
Guess what? Counting like this still makes sense, since it went +0.34, then +0.33, and now +0.32. Consistency at level 100 here. And not just a mistake from me.
March 29, 2023 - Somewhere in South Dakota
The clock strikes fourteen. TJ, Alauran, Jas and Ianis start to load the junk in the trunk and gunk in the frunk. Jerrycans, medical supplies, an ax, crowbar, and other tools that might be needed on the journey. Along with that, Ianis brings a semi-automatic rifle ‘just in case’. As they set up the CB radios, they head off on to the road. Ianis decided to go alone in the Ilaris Itan ute. TJ, Al and Jas set off in the Ilaris Imbe.
Ianis immediately takes the chance to go for a sprint over to Nevada. Soon enough, he drives fast enough to completely leave the range of the CB radio, and the rest of the crew will just be hoping he arrives with the car and himself in one piece.
Jas breaks the awkward silence following being left in the dust by Ianis. “Wonder if he’s heard of the Cannonball run.”
TJ’s ears perk up. While they haven’t been in the US for a while, they’ve probably all heard about the famous law-breaking sprint across the country. He responds, “Well, he’s oblivious to everything besides his close environment, so I doubt it, even if it is really famous.”
“Well, he’s doing a good impression of it. Reckon he’s going 120 right now.”
Alauran laughs. “I’ll be damned if that thing ever manages 110 on the freeway, especially considering the weak camper shell on the thing. We’ll either see him having rear-ended a family of four, being arrested, or see debris of the vehicle along the road. And if he does manage it, I’ll eat sand.”
“Sand?” – TJ asks, concerned.
Al looks TJ in the eyes, before muttering: “Sand. Fresh Nevadan sand.”
Jas immediately goes to send a text message to Ianis, informing him of Alauran’s bold bet. He promptly responds with “K”, the speed of said response raising texting-while-driving concerns with Jas. He stops messaging him for the time being.
“Alright, so like, how long will we be driving for?”
“Some twenty-three hours. So like, we’d probably want some music in here.”
Jas, responding to the statement, triumphantly pulls out a CD out of his bag, like he’s pulling a sword out of stone. Entitled “Jas’s super epic mix”, he tries to shove it in to the car’s head unit.
“Jas…this thing has a cassette player.”
“An aux port, at least?”
“It’s from 1990, you dingus.” TJ laughs.
Not yet defeated, Jas rummages through the bag, nearly tossing his laptop in to the window. Eventually, he finds an unlabeled cassette. Rocketing up to lean over to the front, he throws it in to the cassette player. With some mechanical whirring and complaining, it loads in.
It starts playing some sort of EDM at maximum volume, leading to TJ frantically trying to search for the volume knob while fighting with Alauran over the search, and trying to steer the car in the process.
“Woo yeah! This shit is banging!”
“TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFFFFF!” – TJ desperately shouts, trying to be heard over the stereo, glancing at Alauran.
“I’m FUCKING TRYING!” – Alauran responds in a panic.
The car swerves left and right across the lanes of the freeway as TJ can’t bear to focus on the road, every second of the music further destroying his hearing. Alauran has resorted to just covering his ears. Fortunately, there’s no traffic.
Eventually, triumph, as TJ finally hits the ‘eject’ button on the cassette deck. For a moment, there is silence, then, there is ringing. TJ then straightens the car’s trajectory again as they head on, slightly less capable than before.
TJ groans. “My eaaarsss.”
“Jas, you’re not touching the stereo again.” – Alauran follows, a mixture of annoyance and disappointment on his face, before turning to a grin.
“That wasn’t even my doing! How was that my fault?” Jas looks offended, before leaning back in to the seat. He goes to do something on his laptop afterward, furiously typing away.
“Well, you’re the reason why it decided to blast our eardrums with the worst EDM I’ve ever heard." Alauran gives Jas a little shove, causing his computer mouse to dramatically slide down underneath the passenger seat.
“Well, it could have been worse. Some music’s literally just dramatic bass beats with no other instruments.” TJ adds.
Jas, still trying to grasp for the mouse, goes on to say, “Technically, a synthesizer is a single instrument-”
TJ interjects, “That doesn’t count! A synthesizer can play many different things at once. It can synthesize anything it wants to, as long as it’s a wave of some kind.”
As they drive on, the music discussion continues on, strangely without music playing. It is then interrupted by a notification noise, which Jas takes note of. Retrieving his phone from the bag, he opens a text from Ianis:
“Hit 110, eat dirt”
It has an image attachment, and after waiting a minute for it to download over the poor cellular connection, the attachment reveals that Ianis did manage to take the scrapheap up to 110, all while texting and driving. Jas then goes on to announce the problem.
“Okay guys, we should, like, stop issuing speed challenges to Ianis. It’s getting really dangerous.”
“Oh, what now? Has he really rear-ended a family of four?” Alauran adds, jokingly.
“No, but you have a handful of sand to eat when we get there.”
Alauran nearly turns white, probably realizing the gravity of the bet he made.
“Agh, why did you have to send that…”
“You said it, and now you have to live up to your promise!”
TJ tries to defend Al, saying, “Okay, like, maybe we should consider the health concerns with eating sand. That shit ain’t gonna be healthy.” - stating the obvious.
“At least one person cares about my safety, and I’m glad it’s you, teej.” Alauran shifts his tone some.
“I don’t. You’re in this car.” TJ jokingly says, then adding; “This thing is the definition of unsafe.” - He pokes Alauran.
Alauran’s hand flies to his face, where it remains for the rest of TJ’s turn at the wheel. He tries to plan ahead, and gets some rest before he has to take over driving for the last 6-hour, 400-mile leg over to the campsite west of Vegas.
The group heads to a place called ‘Payson’, a good forty miles out south from Salt Lake City, Utah. Feeling tired, TJ goes to find a place to rest, as he spots a motel. Driving up to it, they park the vehicle.
“Alright dork, wake up.” TJ shakes Alauran a bit to get him out of the good deep sleep he was in. Jas, still wide awake, goes and throws the seat forward and folds it down, promptly waking Al up in less than a second.
“Gah…where are we?” Alauran’s delirious state not helping his sense of direction or time.
TJ goes on and answers. “Payson, Utah. Some forty-ish miles south of Salt Lake City. Thought it’d be less crowded out here, and it is.” He unbuckles and awkwardly climbs out of the car, walking over to the other side to go and open Alauran’s door.
“The name sounds familiar, some Echo was telling me something about this place and this car in my dream, though I thought it was in Arizona…?” - Alauran confusedly looks around, but he obviously can’t see anything of note out here.
“Let’s not worry about that now, I really need to take a piss.”
The group walks in, checking in to the motel. Wielding the keycard like an ax, TJ swipes it with power and ferocity, promptly missing the reader and hitting his hand on the door handle instead. He yelps out a swear before letting Alauran swipe it like a normal person.
Business done, they all head off to bed for some rest. They’ve got a day to burn, after all.
March 30, 2023 - Payson, Utah
It’s early in the morning when Alauran wakes up. He already got a lot of sleep before arriving at the motel, so he decides to use this time to go get some extra supplies before they head off to ‘Nehmenweld’, or whatever it was called. Besides cashiers…commenting on the non-human standing in front of them buying large quantities of canned food, it went relatively smoothly. He goes on to an AutoZone a few miles out, kitting out the car with a ‘universal lip’ and a spoiler, both of which with questionable chances of actually doing anything.
Eventually, Alauran drives over to a secluded place and watches the sunrise, pondering what’ll happen over what will probably be the craziest weeks of his life.
8 A.M., Five miles west of Payson
BZZT BZZT
Alauran wakes up from his dreaminess from his phone vibrating in his pocket.
“Hey, what’s up?” He says, still feeling a bit like his body is separated from his mind.
“Did…you take the car? Where are you?” - It’s TJ over the phone, rightfully concerned about his sudden disappearance with the car.
“I’m just a few miles west of Payson, pretty sure just at the base of West Mountain. I went to buy some stuff and watch the sunrise.”
“Alright, just, we kind of want to eat too, so if you could finish whatever you’re doing now there that’d be great.”
“Alright, I’ll be quick, see ya.”
He promptly hangs up and steps back in the car. The drive from West Mountain back to the motel is quick, but he feels strangely different. Oh well, just a fluke. Some minor effects of working tirelessly for weeks and having some time at total rest.
As Alauran arrives, TJ and Jas have already checked out and step into the small coupe.
“There’s a McDonalds close enough, if you two are inclined.”
Jas just nods as he continues typing away on his laptop, while TJ shrugs.
“It’s better than nothing, I guess.”
“Much better than starving, and that’s what we eat for.” Jas snarkily adds.
They order in the drive-thru before heading off again for the second, and last, leg.
Alauran then notices the oil pressure warning light turning on.
“Yep, that’s definitely what we needed right now. A failure before we even arrive.”
TJ looks out the back window, seeing the car still billowing out blue smoke as it has done for a while.
“I assume we’ve somehow burnt through all the oil, considering the exhaust is bluer than the lake.”
Turning on the hazards, Alauran goes and slows down, eventually coming to a stop to the side of the highway, where he shuts the engine off.
TJ gets the hood pins off and reveals the engine covered in oil. It leaked everywhere in the engine bay, even over the electrics, which, while it wouldn’t damage them, it could cause them issues in the future.
Getting a set of spanners, TJ goes and tries them all until one eventually fits in, tightening the head to the block. It would probably not fix the underlying issue, but at least delay it so the car could continue driving. Alauran, who stands beside giving emotional support, hands over the oil canister. TJ promptly throws the oil in to the engine, closes the thing, and goes back to the passenger seat while Alauran tries to figure out himself how the hood pins work.
Some amount of struggling later, and besides some minor knocking, the car drives on to Vegas without issue, though Ianis taunts them by arriving a lot earlier than they did. Oh well, nothing they could do about that.
Arriving late in the evening, the four decide to go to another motel and just relax for the few hours they had until they’d have to leave for the campsite, at noon.
Alauran regrets his decision to make the bet sorely. His throat does too.
Apparently, we’re too off-topic in the #challenges section of Discord. As a result, we’ve been banished to our own Discord.
Shitbox Rally ← Discord Link
From this moment forward, I will NOT be looking in #Challenges for random questions. As it is, I was dealing with 3 main locations to look for stuff: DMs on Discord, Challenges on Automation Discord, and the Forum itself.
Please, I’m trying to keep the peace with the Automation Moderators. Use the new Discord. This link is also up in the main post in case you’d rather click it there.
Prologue, Part 2:
Kasiya gripped the wheel loosely, glad that the power steering on the HD-GV Carry All was incredibly light, that they’d modified the air suspension for the reduced gravity, and that for as large as the vehicle was, it remained surprisingly agile for its size. He turned into the parking lot, watching for people and vehicles as he maneuvered the heavy truck into several parking spaces along with the trailer. Just a few moments behind, Takaraya followed him in with the HD-GV Home-Unit and the other trailer, parking up next to his truck.
The sound of eight doors opening and closing in rapid succession announced that the full crew was there, trying to figure out the right combination of people in each vehicle.
Kaylie watched as Val’s crew carefully used the crane to lift one of Val’s custom trailers into the air, then set it down neatly next to the car it’d be attached to soon enough. “Is it bad that I want one?” Kaylie asked.
“The living trailer or the crane?” Kayden asked.
“The crane,” Kaylie admitted.
Kivenaal chuckled. “I know a guy who legitimately sells used military equipment. You want one that badly, let me know, I’ll get in touch with him and let him know I have a friend who wants a truck with a crane on the back.”
Kasiya looked over at the military vehicles and shook his head with a light chuckle. “From owning a former military truck myself, you probably don’t want one. Guaranteed, it’s noisy, rides rough, requires spare parts you can’t find anywhere, and won’t easily fit in a parking spot,” he said.
Deciding they’d stood back and watched long enough, they made a casual approach, or at least, as casual as a loosely-organized band of friends could manage to make without stepping on each other’s feet.
“Morning, Val,” Jayde said with a smile.
It was agreed upon that only one vehicle combination was to be unloaded for training purposes for multiple reasons, but mostly to save time and fuel. The others remained on site and available if need be.
As Regina and a trailer were now aligned next to each other, the crane operator folded the boom again, soon after clearing the area to park the truck next to the other ones that were present.
“Good morning,” Valentin responded as he turned to face the approaching team.
“‘Mornin’,” Norse added as he walked towards them, fist ahead for a round of fist-bumping.
By this time, Constantin joined: “Unloading of training supplies has been completed. You can start whenever you’re ready.”
He then turned away from Valentin and towards the general direction of the recruits.
“Rally up! Steam vehicle training will begin shortly!” he shouted across the parking lot, with mixed reactions from the recruits. Those that were not assigned to drive made no effort in being quick, while the others could at least have earned a participation trophy for their sense of urgency.
Eventually, all five recruits formed a ‘line’ in front of Valentin, which more closely resembled a sine wave.
“Thank you. First off, i shall assume that those holding an appropriate license know how to handle a ball-hitch trailer to EEA specifications. Second, i shall assume that the radiomen are able to operate equipment used within the CB radio ecosystem.” Valentin started, in hopes that any uncertainties the recruits or Constantin might have are brought up now and not later.
As Norse approached for a fist-bump, Kasiya tried his best to replicate it from what little he’d seen of its use in movies and videos, while at least trying to keep in mind his strength compared to that of the humans.
Takaraya followed up with a surprisingly-gentle fist-bump, though he still noticed the initial flinch and understood that Kasiya had probably overdone things a bit. The others followed suit, with Jayde being slightly awkward in meeting Norse’s right hand with his own dominant left, and Kivenaal adding to the confusion by offering both right hands, getting two fist-bumps from Norse in the moment.
Kayden smirked as he got the last bump in, then said, “If I’d seen you approaching with this plan ahead of time, I’d have warned you that Kasiya’s never actually done a fist bump before. I think you’ll probably be fine, but your hand’s probably going to be sore for a while.”
As the recruits “lined up,” Takaraya sighed. Even the vaguely-disorganized group that was Shift Happens had a neater line-up without being ordered to, and that was just for a casual fist-bump.
Norse had to swap hands after Kasiya’s turn, courtesy of the wrist not taking too kindly to his momentum.
He continued with his left hand for the others while shaking the pain off of the right one, leaving some very noticeable remnants in terms of pain.
“Hoped you slept well. I didn’t. First time heading for a true vacation and such… Obviously, Val has started ‘training’ the others on his contraption, so he is busy at the moment…” Norse stammered semi-coherently, looking over at a much more focused Valentin as he explained how his steam car differed from petrol ones.
“Regarding the vehicle, it largely works as you would expect. The important things to keep in mind are as follows: The clutch pedal is NOT a clutch pedal. Instead, it operates a retarder built into the gearbox to allow braking without overheating the wheel brakes. This is a compromise made to allow remote control of it when on rails.
The car as a whole weighs about 2.5 metric tons or thereabouts. The suspension and brakes have been strengthened to accommodate, but be aware that it will be lethargic in changing direction. Speaking of which, it has a tendency to oversteer, which should be mitigated with a trailer attached. Acceleration will be equally lethargic, courtesy of a not-perfectly-optimized throttle control system. Once it goes, expect it to behave like an electric vehicle,” Valentin explained, trying to deliver all the critical information in a brisk, yet structured manner.
“To get you accustomed to operating these cars, you will be able to drive them for 30 minutes each, excluding the preparations for setting off and parking. Uhm… you too, Sir, If you want.” Valentin continued, looking at Constantin for the last half-sentence.
“Alright: Patel, you go first. Jacknabbit second and Dupont third. I will try and squeeze my way in and go from there.” Constantin then instructed, prompting intense excitement from Rohan and hearty laughing from the other two valid recruit drivers at how Constantin might look within the car.
“Sorry about that, Njordal,” Kasiya said, seeing Norse trying to shake off the pain from his slightly over-done fist bump.
Kaylie chuckled as Norse mentioned he’d hoped the crew had slept well, but that he hadn’t. “Most of us did. Couple of these guys keep long hours, though, and I’m never too sure how much sleep Kivenaal actually gets,” Kaylie admitted.
“I’m just glad I don’t have to fold myself into that car,” Kayden said. “We had to make a gentleman’s agreement for future challenges that basically comes down to “No more midsize cars or smaller.” Of course, the Midnight Skyscraper over there pretty much needs a truck, and I don’t mean one of the little ones.”
Rukari then mentioned, “We are here so Kasiya can get more practice with big truck and trailer on road-that-loops.”
“That, and I’m tempted,” Takaraya said, “to make him learn to haul both trailers behind it.”
“There’s no point to that,” Kasiya replied.
“If the RV breaks down and you have to tow it, you’ll need to couple the trailers together so you have air brakes. Hauling the RV behind, yes, I’ll have to steer and stop, but it’s safer if you have the two trailers in that moment. Plus, in that situation,” Takaraya said, “you would be towing the equivalent of three trailers. Be glad we don’t have a third to burden you with.”
“You’re the first one in hundreds of people to get my name right. Also, this is why we are gonna be on rails. If one car dies, there’s three others to keep the train going. At least that’s what Val told me…” Norse replied, having little idea on the technical reasoning beyond redundancy.
Valentin meanwhile got to work with Rohan, taking a seat in the ‘trainer car’. This also was a convenient way of field-testing the remote control systems in case any of the drivers did something really stupid.
Once inside, Valentin went “hands off” for the most part, as the vast majority of things within were close enough to stock to where it was thought to be intuitive.
Lo and behold, Rohan had no issues getting Regina up and running, electing to get some help from William in reversing up to the trailer hitch one pressure was built. Coupled up and lights plugged in, Regina went out on track, leaving the other four soldiers, Constantin and Norse on the parking lot.
About 40 minutes later, the first drive was concluded with no issues, returning Regina to a ‘cold and dark’, albeit preheated state with the trailer uncoupled.
This process was repeated for the other two drivers, with Jacques having noticeable problems reversing up to the trailer due to poor visibility. Still, no damage was done and the recruits were at least not completely unfamiliar with the steamers once the time would come.
Now it was Constantin’s turn, which was foiled by his inability to fit into the car, accompanied with ridicule by the recruits.
“I still have Robert, but while legroom is not an issue there, the bucket seat is not sized to a broad-shouldered person…” Valentin admitted as Constantin finaggled his way out.
“We have enough people to crew the vehicles to capacity.” Constantin countered, rightfully so.
For the most part, the Shift Happens crew just watched the antics of the soldiers learning to drive the steam car, up until Constantin had issues fitting into the driver’s seat of Regina. Kaylie smirked, then admitted to the group, “Yep, figured that would happen. This big guy,” she added, slugging Kayden in the arm right-handed and making her brother grunt slightly, wince, and rub his shoulder as a result of the unexpected attack, “means we have to modify seat rails every time we want him to drive.”
Kasiya gave a grimace as he realized that it was now his turn on track. Takaraya chuckled, then walked over to the RV and set the trailer down, driving the large vehicle out of the way. “Well, Kasiya, couple up to it,” Takaraya called out, watching as Kasiya climbed up into the driver’s seat of the Carry-All. He pulled forward, lined up the trailer with the other unit, then backed up carefully until he was sure he was in the right spot to hitch up. Putting the parking brake on, he stepped out of the cab, staring at the fact that he had the ball perfectly centered under the hitch, then flipped open the toolbox, grabbed the air hose and electrical cable, connected both air and power, then set the trailer onto the hitch and locked it in.
Kasiya then settled back into the cab, cut the wheel hard to the left to get turned around, and brought his box-snake onto the track carefully, very aware of how little room for error he had with the last trailer. On the track, he keyed the radio and mentioned, for the whole pit lane to hear, “Just for the record, hauling doubles like this sucks.”
“You’ll do fine,” Takaraya said in response, chuckling as Kasiya slowly started following the circuit.
Kasiya grimaced intensely as he took the first turn and realized he wasn’t taking it anywhere near wide enough as he dipped the rear trailer’s inside set of wheels well over the curb. While he was making some improvements by the end of his first lap, it was clear that he had a little way to go before he could handle doubles neatly on a winding road course. “Well, I know what I’m spending the rest of my day doing. Turning laps until I manage to keep off of the curbs,” Kasiya grumbled over the radio.
“Just go for a few more laps until you get it right, Kasiya,” Takaraya said.
Jayde grabbed the radio handle a moment later, adding, “We know you can do it, so show us that you can.”
Kasiya sighed, approaching the first turn again and remembering to go a little wider than he’d done previously. This time around, instead of plowing over the curb with the wheels, he heard the awful sound of heavy-duty tires growling over the rumble strip at the apex of the turn. Thankfully, he managed to keep all of the tires on the track, even if it wasn’t what he considered to be a good lap, and as he rolled over the starting line again, he mentioned, “I do that on an actual road, I’m going to curb-rash the run-flats. I don’t-”
“It is possible, Kasiya,” Jayde said. “One more round, you can do it.”
Kasiya sighed, but obliged with one final lap, this time keeping the trailers in line for the whole lap. As he pulled off the track and into the pit lane, Takaraya then asked, “Think you can reverse those into your spot?”
“Fuck no,” Kasiya replied. “I know how to reverse one trailer. Two is asking for trouble.”
Jayde grabbed the radio from Takaraya, then said, “Would you at least give it a try?”
Kasiya sighed, muttered to himself, “Heroes and fools look the same, but one succeeds where the other fails,” then dropped the automatic into reverse. The quiet reverse beeper informed everyone around of what was happening as Kasiya checked his mirrors and rear-view camera, using the combination of information to carefully reverse the double trailers into the spot he’d driven out of. While they were certainly not perfectly straight, he did have them sitting with tires on the white lines in the lot. He set the parking brake, put the transmission in park, then shut off the engine.
As he climbed out of the cab, Kasiya found himself caught up in a strong hug from his father, who then said, “I knew you could do it.”
Jayde admitted, “A lot of shipping companies have to back doubles, Kasiya, so I knew it was possible.”
“I doubt I could do it without the technological aid of this truck, though,” Kasiya admitted. “I could see where the rear of the trailer was pointing in the rear-view camera.”
While Kasiya was out on the track getting himself familiar with a massive 22-wheel rig, his crew got to work putting the substantially smaller car and trailer back where they took it from. By the time he returned, the parking lot was devoid of a steam car and it’s trailer in the middle of it.
This allowed everyone present to watch Kasiya slot the truck neatly into the parking spot, garnering various forms of compliments as a result.
“Looks like everyone is familiar with their equipment, then.” Valentin said, walking over to the lodging trailer meant for himself and Norse. Once there, he climbed up onto the flatbed it was loaded upon and opened every single door the trailer had, digging into the various boxes and compartments thereafter.
“We certainly need more power tools. I’m not changing 64 wheels a day alone,” Valentin protested from behind the trailer, "Apart from that, non-perishables and fuel, i think we’re all set. Let me check the other trailer, though.
He then hopped over to the trailer which contained the fuel and water tanks with remarkable gracefulness, checking it’s contents for anything missing as well.
“Yeah, power tools, batteries, chargers, non-perishables in case the locals don’t have any and lots of fuel for the first night,” Valentin confirmed as he returned to the group.
Kaylie nodded, watching as Kasiya disconnected the second trailer from his truck, then replied to Val, “We also need to gather supplies as well. Plywood for targets, canned goods, wouldn’t hurt to have some portable light sources, get some extra toilet paper, that sort of thing.”
“Definitely need to pick up some canteens for everyone. Or supplies to convert something into a canteen,” Kivenaal said.
“Already have one, so that makes your task easier,” Jayde mentioned.
“Spare covers for the beds would be nice,” Takaraya added.
“We need charcoal for grill,” Rukari said, before adding as well, “Also need baking supplies.”
Takaraya glanced at Rukari, then asked, “We don’t have an oven, so how are you planning to bake?”
“Have short barrel with lid in truck. Put barrel on grill, light fire, is like oven,” Rukari replied.
“We have a stovetop and that is about it for cooking…” Valentin admitted before turning to face Constantin.
“I would start with grocery runs and then get more power tools. Fuel tends to be cheaper in the evening,” Valentin requested, prompting the associated staff to take initiative in preparing the four relevant trucks with the intent of leaving the guest trailers at the track.
“You have the trucks at your disposal. I’ll stay here and keep tabs on the dunce-club over there.” Constantin remarked, motioning to the recruits who looked like they were tring to summon something by dancing in circles.
“You sure got the pinnacle of the Swedish Army at your service…” Norse commented, also watching the dance unfold.
“Except the iceberg is upside-down…” Constantin added as the four trucks pulled up near the group.
Due to one truck only seating two, Valentin and Norse were forced to split and climb aboard two separate ones. Nevertheless, they left the premises shortly after, headed to Walmart.
Likewise, Kaylie, Jayde, Rukari, and Kasiya boarded the Carry-All, pulling out of the parking area first, with Kivenaal, Malavera, Kayden, and Takaraya onboard the Home-Unit, having connected up the second trailer back to the vehicle it was supposed to be hauled by, following about three minutes behind.
The growling rumble of 32 cylinders announced the arrival of both HD-GV units in the parking lot. Deciding not to be assholes, the two huge rigs and their trailers were parked as far from the doors as they could manage, and the decision was made for Kaylie, Jayde, Rukari, and Kayden to go in for most of the shopping, leaving most of the tall crew outside.
Kasiya and Takaraya configured their refrigerated trailers to actually be refrigerated and not just “somewhat cool” while the group of four wandered into the store, grabbing four different shopping carts.
Inside the store, Kaylie gave her shopping team their orders.
“Okay, Rukari, you’re going to get charcoal, canteens, battery powered lanterns, batteries for those lanterns, and toilet paper. Jayde, you’re in charge of canned food. Focus on things that don’t require perishables to make a meal. Kayden, hit the bedding aisles, get two sets of sheets, blankets, pillows, and bed-covers for four queen-size beds. They’ll be too wide for the Home-Unit’s bunks, but you can wrap a cover around yourself like a sleeping bag if it’s cold. I’ll get the non-perishable parts of the baking supplies, matches, lighters, some extra pots and pans, and a bottle of dish detergent,” Kaylie said. “Don’t worry about the budget, use the company credit card, it’ll cover it.”
After the orders were given, all four shoppers split and headed to gather their supplies, creating some mild chaos on occasion.
Valentin and Norse also headed inside, somehow missing the two HD-GVs parked on the other end of the lot.
Within, if more or less unfolded like any other grocery run, albeit of larger scale.
With fairly little structure, the pairing just went up and down the aisles loading up everything that they knew needed or otherwise seemed useful, given that an empty bed freed up lots of volume within the trailer.
Eventually, they dragged their two carts full of supplies to the cash registers, coincidentally ending up right behind the half of Shift Happens that also was in there.
“Oh would you look at that! Long time no see, right?” Norse said jokingly, “Also getting some groceries?”
“Yeah, we had some things we had to pick up,” Kaylie said, loading up the belt with pots, pans, fire-starting supplies, flour, sugar, yeast, and dish detergent. “Jayde, Rukari, and Kayden are in other lines trying to speed up our shopping trip,” she added. “Sorry that we’re slowing the pace of your shopping run in the process.”
“Beats being stuck behind a granny fishing change out of her wallet for 15 minutes, haha.” Norse chuckled as Valentin reached halfway down the length of the belt to procure a divider, after which he loads up the remainder of it with his supplies.
“We still need to get power tools to speed up the transition process. But we do have all day to do that since the contract for power generation formally starts tomorrow afternoon or so. That is when we need to be at the starting area in case anyone arrives a day early and draws power,” Valentin explained as he stacked an assortment of “add water and boil” meals onto the belt.
Kaylie chuckled, then said, “Usually, it’s either the granny fishing change, or the Karen demanding a manager, or the lady with a three-ring-binder full of coupons that she insists on using. At least with us, our expensive trip is, well, paid for very easily.” As the last item was scanned and the total was displayed, Kaylie swiped the TST expense-account card and keyed in her number, put the card away in her wallet, and then started putting bags back into the cart. She looked over to the other lanes, watching as Kayden soon joined her with a cart piled with bed supplies, followed by Rukari and his cart of camping supplies, and then Jayde taking the longest with a cart practically packed with canned food.
“Jayde, did you have to buy out half the supply of canned goods?” Kaylie asked.
“You do realize how much Kasiya eats, right?” Jayde quipped back. “He demolished four cans of chili in one sitting, remember? So I gathered up supplies with that in mind.”
“Good point. I guess I did say to focus on things that wouldn’t require perishable items to make the meal, and… If we’re eating from a supply of cans, we have to keep in mind just how much everyone does eat,” Kaylie replied.
“There is a reason why we went this route regarding food. You apparently were first to get to the canned ones,” Norse commented half-jokingly.
“That. But it also takes up less weight and volume within our storage solutions. Yes, neither is at a premium, but any reserves allow us to source whatever useful things en route,” Valentin added, being distracted by the cashier naming the total, which was paid in cash due to a distinct lack of locally accepted payment methods.
“See you around then. At latest, tomorrow, around noon at the start line,” he said once the shopping load was back in the cart, heading outside to store the haul where it belongs.
Kaylie nodded, then said, “Noon, at the starting area, no problem. I’ll pass that on to the others.” She then led her parade of carts out to the two HD-GV units and started loading up the trailer behind Takaraya’s Home-Unit with their groceries, planning on sorting it all out later.
reUnity is a (underground) amateur racing team set in Asia. The team mostly consists of East Asian and SEA members, and for this round the East Asian wing (predominantly CN, JP and KR) will join the race as the team’s entry to the Shitbox Rally.
Jiang Hui 
- Wuhan-born Jiang is a lead medical engineer working in a major medical equipment company in Beijing, and the 36-year old is known for his temperous and aggressive style and his successful career in amateur racing and videos as well. (You might know him from here)
Anthony Park Seung Ji 
- Rumored to be the apparent heir of the Hanseung chaebol, the 55-year old, Harvard-graduated Seoulite is the second son of the well known industrialist Park Jae Sim. A cold, calculated person, his tactics and brillance made him a calm driver on the road, having good reputation in the amateur racing scene.
Ayumi Miyazaki 
- Currently a 22-year old university student living in Tokyo aspiring to be a manga artist, Ayumi was born in the suburbs in Osaka, and her happy-going, fun-loving attiude and loves to crack jokes. Somehow she’s a pretty good driver too, with her artsy driving style leading her on amateur races.
Vehicle: 2003 Ursula F5 cross 400i x4
The vehicle chosen for the trip is the 2003 Ursula F5, specifically the cross x4 model, which is the F5 estate with jacked up suspension and offroading parts for improved offroading capabilities. The original engine, a 3.3 liter inline-6 was removed for a much powerful and cheaper Ventura “Eaststar” 4.4 DOHC V8, and other parts were made. Besides that, the stock manual transmission for the car was kept, and the car had a faulty 8-speaker stereo system and suspension (later fixed) when the car was bought.
Open the floodgates! The timer has passed and we are now accepting entries.
As a reminder, here is what to include:
Not relevant for game stats, but relevant for RP:
Submission rules have been updated.
Changes:
Please put your team name and character names into your submission message, so we can find it easier for our spreadsheet.
We’re allowing one resubmission to fix vehicles.
Team Info: Shitbox Rally 2023 - Stage 14 (FINISHED!) - #52 by TheYugo45GV
March 7th, 2023. 9:10AM - 12:40PM
Kiovograd, Velkaristan
Because the weather had finally warmed up since last week, it was warm enough to go for a morning swim. The morning in particular was absolutely tranquil, a gentle rippling came from the neighbors’ fountain, and the muted but still audible sounds of the city from somewhere in the distance. A distant roar that sounded almost exactly like a waterfall. Landon stood on the dock, dressed in a pair of plain olive drab swim trunks, inhaled a deep breath, keeping his eyes closed and letting his nostrils relish every molecule of the fresh and humid morning air, and the pine scent that hung in the air. There was a light breeze, it wasn’t very cold but it also wasn’t warm, however, the wind had a strange quality, it felt comforting.
After the exhale, Landon reopened his eyes, tossing the towel and what looked to be a leather pouch in his hands onto the ground. Then the general pressed a button on his watch, activating its stopwatch function.
‘Here goes nothing.’
In one swift and elegant motion, the general dove into the water, a slight feeling of cold creeping through his fur as the water washed over him. Using the forward momentum to his advantage, with the same grace as the dive into the water, switched into an overarm stroke swim pattern.
The goal was to swim out to the buoy that marked where the shallows ended, and then back to shore, 8 times. At a relaxed pace, it took 30 minutes to complete 8 laps, and was more invigorating than the usual high intensity exercise. Stress was swept away, same with any tiredness.
The watch eventually beeped, signaling that 30 minutes had gone by, even though it felt like an hour passed. What could be better than a morning swim? There was nothing he could think of except…
With one swift move, Landon pulled himself up onto the dock. With a grimace, he shook off the thought, and the water, before grabbing the towel. That was enough thought for now.
Upon drying himself off as best he could, Sabourne shifted attention to his tail, which was completely soaked through. Instinctively, he grabbed it, making sure to thoroughly wring it out. His ears subconsciously shifted, listening for any sounds of movement.
Something shuffled around in the large conifer next to the water, above the dock making the general look up. A bird flew out of the tree, and landed on the roof of the house.
Sabourne smirked, amused at being startled so easily.
On the ground, next to the towel, was not a leather pouch, instead it was a holster that contained a Colt Anaconda revolver. The gun was equipped with a six inch barrel, the metal frame, bullet cylinder, and every other component milled from stainless steel with every exposed surface being mirror finished while the grip was carved from bocote wood.
Landon carefully removed the weapon from its holster, and took aim at the water. Everything about it was perfect, the way it felt in his hand, the balance, the weight, the fit and finish. The cylinder had every chamber loaded, each containing a .44 Magnum hollow point round.
Guns were still very dangerous, and waving a loaded one around was not the best of ideas, so without a second thought, Landon returned the weapon to its holster, picked up both the gun and the towel and moved to go inside.
Enough contemplating, it was too cold to spend another second out here.
The shower was brisk, but it did a good enough job at washing out all the lake water and warming him back up.
After that, it was to the drying chamber. The high speed fans left Landon looking like an overgrown hedge.
It was a truly laughable look.
Close to an hour had gone by, and most of the fur had been combed into submission, and if it refused to cooperate below the waist, it was now covered with a pair of form fitting denim jeans, with a platinum buckled black leather belt. Landon pulled away from his lean into the mirror, finally having removed the persistent flea from his nose. Right then, something occurred to him. Was he always this good looking, even if he was nearly 50 years old? Well toned, powerfully built, and one mean set of abs.
It wasn’t until his phone rang that he realized he’d been flexing in the mirror and observing himself. Not that it was inappropriate, there was nothing wrong in being amazed at his physical appearance, but more in the sense that it was unnecessary showing off.
Who could possibly be calling him at this time? Did someone commit treason again? Would it be–.
“Karl?” Landon whispered, seeing the incoming long range transponder call screen on his phone. What does he want?
Reluctantly, Landon picked up the call. “Yes, what do you want?”
“Hey, Lando!” The familiar voice said.
Sabourne rolled his eyes. “What did I say about you calling me that?”
“Oh, right. Sorry. I forgot. How have you been?”
“I’ve been alright, thank you. Nothing interesting has happened.”
“Nothing interesting? Well, I guess your life’s been pretty boring since you took down Torrez.” Karl quipped.
Landon gave a nod. “Well, when you put it that way, yes. Why are you calling again?”
“Why am I calling? I wanted to see how you are doing, that’s all.”
“That’s pretty strange seeing as you phoned me last week.”
“Last week? It’s been like two.” The voice on the other end said.
Two weeks? Wait. “You live on another planet.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”
There it is. “I’m listening.”
“Do you know about the Sacred Chalice of Nehmenweld?” Karl asked.
Another wild goose chase. Of course.
“The solid gold cup that everyone and their mother is hunting for?"
“Yes. From what I’ve heard, It has supernatural properties, ones that could pose a serious danger to everyone and everything. It could be very bad if the wrong person gets their hands on it.”
Landon placed the phone on speaker, and proceeded to put on a purple T-shirt. “Well, I guess that sounds serious, but no one’s ever found the chalice. Hundreds have died and thousands of others have spent their entire lives searching. We only risk exposing it if we go after it.”
“Landon, if we don’t go looking for it, someone else could get lucky with their search. Gods only know what will happen if it falls into the wrong hands. Only way we can prevent disaster is if we take the very recipe. I’m sure you know this being in the military and all.”
Sabourne then left the master bedroom ensuite bathroom and descended the stairs, turning off the speaker, and putting the phone to his ear which he had swiveled and shifted towards the phone to hear it better. “So it’s basically a weapon of mass destruction.”
“Yes.”
“So why do you need me? Can’t you go and look for it yourself?”
“Well, two is better than one, if it’s more than just me it would take far less time to track it down.”
Sighing, Landon paused outside his older nephew’s, Aryton’s room. Making sure to be extra quiet, cracked the door open slightly. On the bed was Aryton, and next to him resting her head on his chest was Denali, his girlfriend. Both lay covered, with Aryton lacking a shirt.
No. They are asleep, I give him enough shit for waking me up early.
Without much more thought, Sabourne discreetly closed the door. Whatever Karl was saying fell on deaf ears. “…so that’s why I want you to come with me.”
“I’m going with you? To where?”
“Are you even listening?”
“No.”
“Oh god. It’s some kind of rally with cars. Shitbox rally? I haven’t made a choice on the car we’re bringing, but we can also bring a support vehicle.”
“Wha–? You want me to use one of my cars?”
“You can use whatever you want.”
“Karl, I don’t think I’ve got any vehicles that work. The Mayland Quad4’s transfer case is blown and the other IVERA is sitting in the garage, half disassembled, waiting on a new timing belt. I can’t even use the Audi V8 since it has a dead fuel pump.”
“Then figure something out. I’ll forward you the message I got and then let me know if and when you decide that you want to join me.”
Without a further word, Karl abruptly terminated the call. Typical.
So, it was true, the rally did exist.
But, the budget seemed to be too limiting, barely any cars were listed the equivalent 4000 Velkari Credits and the best option that he’d found so far was a relatively well maintained 1989 Leclerc 49. The Leclerc 49 was a shitbox par excellence, and it would have worked brilliantly, if not for the fact it barely fit two people as it was. Plus, it featured a 1.2L 4 cylinder engine that made barely enough power to even move the car itself. Furthermore, it sat pretty much on the maximum of the budget at 3800 VLC, being sold by a sketchy person.
You are looking for a support car, Landon. Not some piece of scrap.
Some shitbox would not cut it for the role, nor would any of the other cars. The ‘97 Imperium, the newer of the two IVERAs, was his and Andrew’s weekend project car which they wanted to restore completely, the Audi had a dead fuel pump, the ‘94 Imperium and it’s engine were in pieces, the Quad4 was stuck in RWD and suffering from a horrific vibration every time it went into gear, and the Westminster, which would have been perfect as a support vehicle, was basically destroyed and Landon doubted it would be able to make the nearly 5000 mile journey without another catastrophic failure.
That was it, there were no cars. It had been two hours of scouring used car sites. No more, he had other stuff to do, and this was a waste of time. With a grunt he stood up from the armchair and set the tablet down on the end table, picking up his coffee from the refectory table and striding into the kitchen.
As he entered, through the windows he noticed a car sitting in the roundabout driveway near the garages.
Landon stood next to the counter, looking out over the flagstone pavement.
The car that he saw was a dark red first generation IVERA Executive, in particular it was a 1986 model equipped with a camper shell which was mated to the car via the rear cargo area, sitting next to a dormant roof repair van and the larger of Andrew’s two speedboats, near a large detached garage.
The car was interesting, he’d been introduced to the car by some know-it-all kid, who knew it inside and out, and used it almost every day, sometimes even living in it. The kid on the other hand was, none other than his younger nephew, Amell, Aryton’s almost identical twin brother. Normally, Amell, being as mechanically savvy as he was, would have removed the camper shell and replaced the rear hatch of the IVERA so he could use it normally, but eventually he had finally had enough of constantly wrestling the hatch, and wrenching up the bolts so he just left the camper shell as a permanent part of the car. Speaking of which, he hadn’t yet emerged from the garage since last night.
Right then, Denali, Aryton’s mate, dressed in sweatpants and a tank top, entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, the bottles and items in the door shelves clattering about.
At the sound of motion behind him, the general glanced over his shoulder, made one last glimpse out at the driveway, before leaning against the counter and grabbing the newspaper off the island and began reading through it, all the while keeping an eye on Denali.
She was beautiful, that was a fact. A very fit physique and to put it simply, a perfect body shape. No wonder Ayrton had the hots for her. Plus, both of them seem to really like each other, both emotionally and… well… physically.
Just then, Aryton walked a little more fully dressed, with sweatpants and an unzipped hoodie being the two articles of clothing he wore.
“Morning, sir.” He said, taking care to be respectful.
“Morning,” Landon replied. “You sleep well?”
“Like always.”
Sabourne flashed a grin on his face and then returned to the newspaper. Then the feeling came. Dread. He didn’t know why. But, it was there, overwhelmingly present. The feeling continued to stay there until he realized the cup in his hand was empty.
Well, I guess that was today’s excitement.
Setting the cup and paper down with a sigh, Landon left the kitchen, strode into the living room and sat down on the couch picking up the tablet from earlier.
When the motion detectors picked up the movement of the government owned Leclerc 54X, the motors whirred the gates open with a gentle hum. The smooth burble of its 6.2L V8, quietly murmuring as it pulled into the driveway. Inside the car were two government agents, both were red foxes dressed in black business suits, either of them wearing dark sunglasses that concealed their eyes, and a radio earpiece . On either fender of the sedan they drove was a red rectangle with yellow three stars in the upper left corner, indicating that the car did indeed belong to the government.
Discreetly, the car pulled up just short of the front door of the house. The agent sitting in the passenger seat got out, while the other one waited in the car.
There was a knock at the door.
“I got it!’ Aryton exclaimed.
Sabourne almost beat him to it, but he wasn’t fast enough.
At the door stood a government agent who didn’t pay any attention to Aryton and simply focused on Sabourne.
Aryton, realizing that this didn’t concern him, left them in peace.
“General, the High Council requests your presence at headquarters. You are to come with us.” He explained, calmly.
A look of confusion formed on Sabourne’s face, but he nodded. “Understood. Am I required to go in uniform or is it too urgent?”
“No, not extremely urgent, but take no more than 20 minutes.”
With that Sabourne shut the door, and moved to get ready. He passed Denali on his way up the stairs.
“What was that all about?” She asked.
The question was given a quick answer. “Can’t explain right now. I’m in a hurry.”
Within 15 of the 20 minutes, Landon was dressed in his uniform and on his way out the door.
“Hey, general?” Aryton queried, just before Sabourne left the house. “How long will you be gone?”
“Maybe about three hours. Why?”
“Just curious, because I just got a text from my dad, saying he’s planning on taking all of us out to dinner after that event he’s gone to.”
“I see, I’m certain I’ll be back way before then. I suggest you tell him that I am coming.”
Once he stepped out and made his way to the car, the same agent who knocked on the door had gotten out and opened the rear passenger door of the Leclerc for Landon.
The doors of the car slammed shut and drove away, back down the driveway, the gates opening for it once again. Upon turning onto the main road, they picked up the pace and navigated the streets of the housing estate, eventually reaching the highway, where they were joined by two government owned Westminster V8s.
Sabourne remained composed, but underneath he was very nervous. Maybe this was the reason why he was overcome with dread earlier. Was he going to get roped into another investigation? Sure he might have been joking about there being another attack on neutral ships earlier, but now it seemed very much like that was the case.
The Leclerc pulled up in front of the HQ where a soldier waited for them, from the rank indicated on his shoulder, he seemed to be a Lieutenant Colonel, incharge of all the other soldiers that were around, unloading equipment from a nearby truck. As the car pulled up next to him, the officer opened the door, and saluted as Landon got out of the car.
Like last week, the journey to the meeting chambers was an elevator ride away, and this time, Landon’s fellow officials were nowhere to be seen, most likely because they were in the underground command rooms fulfilling their respective roles within the military.
A chime came as the elevator doors opened. Well, at least there would finally be an answer to the random summoning. This time, the meeting was taking place in a large windowed conference room on the north side of the building. The doors were obvious thanks to the two soldiers standing guard each armed with an assault rifle, and the fact one of the two doors was slightly ajar.
Quietly, Sabourne entered the room and immediately spotted Braddock and Denslington, along with Professor Allan Masterson, a historian from the University of Velkaristan. He also saw the Great Leader himself and the High Council, were present in the room, whispering amongst themselves.
Landon took position next to Marcel and Xavier. “Braddock, Denslington.” He said, keeping his voice low.
In response, Braddock turned around. “Good, you made it. I’m guessing they dragged you out of bed?”
“Actually, no. I was already up and about when the car came by. What happened?”
Marcel shrugged. “Well, I guess we are about to find out. I’m pretty certain that Professor Masterson is the reason why we’ve been called to meet here.”
“Why aren’t we in the situation room in the basement command center?”
“Dupont and Kobylov are using it. Something to do with a high altitude intercept over the Coburn Peninsula. I’m guessing this is more important anyway.”
The Leader glanced in the direction of the professor and the three generals, before whispering something to his associates. “Let’s begin.”
“Good morning, everyone. I trust you are all well rested, and I’m guessing you are wondering why we aren’t in the basement situation room. I’ve been informed that Kobylov and Dupont have taken control of some kind of intercept over the southern coast.” The Leader explained. “Regardless, this is far more important than whatever is happening there. Recently, The High Council and I have been informed that a possible weapon of mass destruction exists, lost to time, on a far off planet in the long dead Aetherius system and that various parties are undertaking efforts to acquire it. I’ve invited Professor Masterson to provide more information.”
“Thank you, Great Leader. The object, as observed from various historical accounts, appears to be the mythical Aurelius Cup. It’s rumored to possess supernatural energy that can pretty much be used to decimate anything or even heal mortal wounds, and was an object of worship apparently. But, other than a few conceptual sketches I’ve made and a few I’ve found made way before my time, I’m afraid there’s not much else.” The professor explained.
“How does this concern us?” Denslington asked. “I’m pretty certain this type of work doesn’t even apply to the job description.”
“Our plan was to send one of you on an expedition to go retrieve it. You and Braddock, are simply here to be informed of the situation and attend to Sabourne’s duties while he is absent.” One of the council members stated flatly. Sabourne recognized his voice as the one who ordered them to quiet down last week. “Why him you might ask? Well, to put it simply, he is the best suited to the mission, he’s still the best and most capable soldier out of anyone in the entirety of the armed forces.”
The three generals looked at each other, then back to the council. Landon furrowed his brow. “I think there’s another reason why you are selecting me to go. Karl von Heislingberg, reached out I’m guessing.”
The leader eyed him suspiciously. “And how would you know that, general?”
“Well, he called me this morning, explained everything. I can only assume he contacted you after the fact.”
Of course he did. There was no other explanation. Plus, it now left Landon with no choice but to go.
The councilman then chimed in.“Whatever it is, you are on official business and we expect you to represent Velkaristan in the best way possible. Heislingberg mentioned some kind of event involving vehicles, and I advise you to bring and wear your service uniform, but that’s entirely up to you to decide.”
Landon breathed a very subtle sigh. “Understood.”
“You have until the 20th of March to prepare until the freighter the Heislingbergs have sent, arrives. Meeting adjourned.”
With that, everyone began to leave. The car ride back to the house was done in silence, the only thing being the sound of the Leclerc’s V8 engine bellowing under acceleration. Landon sighed, as if today couldn’t get any more stressful. But, at least dinner with Andrew and his family at a nice restaurant would be pleasant. Besides, there was still almost 5 hours to go until then, enough time to contemplate and clear his head from the unthinkable becoming the thinkable, thanks to Karl’s meddling.
To Be Continued
Prologue, Part 1
Prologue, Part 2
Prologue, Part 3:
It had been several long months since the infamous email hit the internet, courtesy of Malavera sparking interest. Those who had replied had gotten further information, regarding the third-party power situation and how to sign up for it. Now, however, was the day it all came together. Today was the first day of Shitbox Rally 2023, and it was… Well, it was the first unofficial campsite, waiting for everyone to arrive.
Kasiya and Takaraya pulled their giant vehicles off of the gravel road, a significant upgrade to last year’s dirt path, weaving around until they found suitable parking for both vehicles. The refrigerator units on the Carry-All and the trailers buzzed quietly, courtesy of a lot of mufflers and even forcing them to draw their air through the intake plumbing and air filter boxes of three different 1985 to 1998 AMP Mars V6 engines. Two of the three units had been provided by Valentin with the third unit found in the junkyard, courtesy of a Moover T100 with all the classic markings of being t-boned by an SUV.
This year, as people would have to spend time in the starting area, including the night, Kaylie had a few extra amenities provided. A handful of cheap charcoal grills offered a means to at least cook meat, a couple of picnic tables offered places for meals, and an arrangement of porta-potties were scattered around the campground to offer a place to do one’s business. Jayde, of course, had insisted on “acoustically improving” the plastic echo-boxes with a little magic, making it so that sounds from inside were rather muffled, as a bit of privacy.
Of course, there hadn’t been much they could do regarding water supply on the spot, so the solution there had just been to get an International Bulk Container of drinking water, put it up on a metal stand, and attach a faucet valve to it so people could fill canteens, bottles, and jugs as needed.
As the crew departed their two trucks, it was Kivenaal who checked on the new portal shed, designed large enough to fit the giant-ass trucks through with trailers, even if it’d still basically be single-file into the Rift. Kasiya transferred himself from the driver’s seat to the rear bench, typing up his first entry of the journey. Kayden and Jayde started up two of the grills, with both of them carrying grocery bags of “lunch” for the crew. Kaylie climbed up onto the roof-rack of Takaraya’s RV, using it as a look-out platform, while Malavera pulled his “laptop” out from under a seat, sat down at a picnic table, and pushed the power button. Rukari opened up the Carry-All’s storage room, grabbed a chair and a beach umbrella, and proceeded to set up his own personal bit of shade. Takaraya decided, after realizing Kivenaal was done portal-checking, to help Kivenaal set up the shooting range, carrying target boards out to various distances and setting them up, while Kivenaal walked around with the stapler and tacked targets to the boards.
“Dust on the horizon!” Kaylie called out, seeing the tell-tale sign of vehicles coming down the gravel road.
It quickly became obvious that those vehicles were familiar, since they all were either forest green or khaki in color while also obviously being military in origin. The convoy, however, did drag a civilian-looking Moover V100 van along for the trip, which apparently wasn’t all that happy on the poor “roads” near the starting area.
They circle around to the far side of the area, claiming a fairly sizeable amount of land within, where the crew immediately went to work in unloading the train in it’s entirety. Meanwhile, the driver of the Moover Van dumps 62 individual packages into the dirt, practically underneath the rear bumper and leaves immediately afterwards, without a word.
“Rude…” Valentin mumbled while heading over to the Shift Happens crew, ‘dragging’ a somewhat tired, but excited Njordal along with him, “Well hello there. We’re just gonna unload real quick. The US army will head home once they’re done, leaving the train and the Swedish Navy here for the event. Also: those boxes contain the cables and splitter boxes for each team. Was easier to just ship all of them here. Doubt that anyone will steal them in the middle of nowhere…”
“Today is the day! Vacatioon” Norse beamed in exitement, following up with the yawn of all yawns, “need to try Val’s bed solution for a nap…”
“Good to see you!” Kaylie said from her perch on top of the RV. Realizing she couldn’t see Kasiya anywhere, she sighed, reached into a pocket, and pulled out a fistful of pennies. “Mind your heads over there, I’m about to get Kasiya’s attention, but I have to throw these.” With a lazy right-handed lob, Kaylie landed 25 cents worth of loose change on the roof of the Carry All’s cab.
Kasiya startled, saved his document, then shoved open the cab door. “What the hell was that?” he asked, looking around until he saw Kaylie, and then the pennies in the dirt. “Really?” Kasiya said, shaking his head as he dropped down out of the cab, only then really noticing Val and Norse were there.
“Ah. Good afternoon, Valentin. Good afternoon, Njordal. Sorry, the cab’s got decent sound insulation and I was writing up my first journal of the trip until it started raining coins,” Kasiya said. “I suppose now that I’m out of the cab, I should probably get a little time in with the weights while we wait.”
Kaylie yelled down, “Yeah, just remember, Kasiya, who you’re around. Keep it normal.”
Kayden yelled back, “No, Kaylie, if he wants to push the limits, let him. I think Norse and Val can handle that the guy who weighs 500 kilograms can arm-curl almost 160 in each hand. It’s why we put all those damn weight plates into the rear compartment of the trailers.”
“I was only going to do about 90 kilograms. 200 pounds,” Kasiya replied, shaking his head. “Not the full 350 pounds per hand that I can do. I still have to drive tomorrow.”
“Curling 160? That is mighty impressive, but not all that surprising, given… whatever you are,” Valentin commented, having no clue about what Kasiya and the others were biologically. Though he also did not care all too much, since it’s the 21st century, filled with progressiveness and tolerance and all that.
“As if you have anything to say about weightlifting with your noodle arms. I remember you struggling to lift your own bike onto the stands and you blaming it on ‘leverage’, HAHA!” Norse joked, lightly prodding Val into the left arm, which is rubbed in response.
“Record is 160 kilos. Once. About a month ago, because others in the gym really wanted to know what ‘the lighthouse’ was made of. Have never gone that far since…” Valentin muttered, really not keen on collecting supposed bragging rights.
“PROVE IT!” Norse shouted, flabbergasted by the seemingly outlandish claims Valentin was making.
“I’d rather not fuck up myself for the remaining day… still need to set up the generator and such once the military guys are done craning everything…” Valentin protested as he motioned over to the convoy, with one of the trailers up in the air by the HEMTT mobile crane unit.
“Aww come oooonnnn… Party-Pooper…” Norse then admitted, which actually pushed Valentin ‘over the edge’ as he reluctantly headed off, just to immediately turn around to the group again.
“If i bust my shirt trying, you get my a new one.” Valentin offered as a compromise, to which Norse eagerly held out a hand, ending in a handshake.
Then, a potential issue dawned on both of them:
“Do we even have a bench?”
Kasiya nodded, walking to the trailer attached to the RV and opening up the lower compartment behind the wheels. He slid the bench out, carrying it over to where Val and Norse were at. “If you give me a moment, I’ll get the weights and bars out,” Kasiya mentioned, before making another trip to grab several different bars in one hand, then grabbed the chain handle for the wooden crate of weights and hauled it out as well. He walked over, taking care to not let the crate get too much momentum going, then set the heavy crate down and laid the bars across the top. He opened up the other trailer’s lower compartment and dragged out the second wooden crate of weights, setting it by the first.
He settled down to the ground, grabbing one of the bars and noting the weight of it, then calculating out weight plates in pounds for a 160 kilogram lift. “Well,” Kasiya said, “I’m having to set you up a little light for a true 160. My calculator says I’d need 352.7 pounds to match that, and our lowest available plate is 1 pound. In the interest of safety, I’d rather go light than heavy.”
Valentin counter-checked the conversion on his phone, which, lo and behold, was accurate.
“350 converts to about 159 kilos. Enough, Norse?” Valentin inquired, getting a nod of approval in response.
“Shooting straight for 350 is suicide. Uhm…” a pause fills the area as Valentin converts units on his phone “200 seems like a safe and easy start.” Valentin suggests as he takes a peek into the weight-crate.
He then reverses a step or two for some room to warm up in.
“Who’s spotting? Would appreciate not choking on the bar in case it goes south…” Valentin asks into the group while mentally and physically readying himself to the best of his abilities in this rather impromptu context.
Kasiya nodded, then grabbed another bar and counted up 200 pounds for it as well. “I’ll spot,” Kasiya said, picking up the first bar loaded to 350 pounds in one hand and lifting it with relative ease to just beneath his chin before he let it down slowly and set it back down, more to prove that he could handle it than anything else. “I’ll have to sit behind the bench, but once you’re ready, let me know and I’ll make sure you’re safe,” Kasiya said, moving the two different bars over to the weight bench.
Kaylie smirked. “You think that arm curl of his was impressive, well… We couldn’t spare the weight onboard the trailers for a couple of engine blocks. So, no, we won’t get to see Kasiya using a concrete picnic table as a weight bench and heaving a pair of V6 shortblocks into the air.”
Kasiya sighed. “I’ve only lifted those once, to be fair. Don’t know how the hell Bricksley made such a heavy V6 block.”
“It’s three-quarters of a V8. That’s why it’s heavy,” Kaylie quipped.
“Yeah that will do.” Valentin noted quickly, halfway through warming up and watching Kasiya load up a 200lbs lift, “Massive lumps of US-built cast iron are heavy, regardless of configuration.”
Norse did not do all that much beyond a still-skeptical look, doubting Valentin’s abilities, some thoughts of his going as far as Valentin wildly overestimating himself and being at risk of injury as a result. Still, the amount of confidence Valentin seemed to have was sufficient in preventing Norse from backpedaling.
By that point, the event had reached the military half of the crew, specifically Constantin, who took a quick glance across the area, but did not pay all to much attention to it yet.
A few minutes later, Valentin finished up the crude warm-up and stepped towards the bench, undoing the top two buttons on his shirt on the way there.
“Here we go then…” Valentin muttered as he took position beneath the bar, which was quite the process due to it being undersized for Valentin.
Kasiya, being the voluntary spotter for Valentin, likewise took seat behind the bench.
Valentin then fumbled in his pockets, fishing out a phone and a wallet, which both were handed to Norse.
With a deep breath for motivation, Valentin completed the lift without any issues, which already impressed Norse a lot.
“What was that? 90 Kilos?” he inquired in awe.
“Mmhm. Can go straight to 110. Lifting one ‘me’.” Valentin responded, only tilting his head a little towards Norse, also prompting Kasiya to add a couple smaller plates to either side of the bar in the meantime.
“Weren’t you like ninety-something kilos?” Norse asked, unsure about if Valentin actually gained weight or if he was just misremembering.
“Not anymore…” Valentin said, thus proving Norse right in that Valentin was lighter at some point in the past.
Kasiya carefully calculated out the needed additional plates, adding them to the bar and securing them in place. Afterward, he smiled and mentioned, “There’s 242 pounds, or almost 110 kilograms. It’s less than a quarter-kilo light.”
Kaylie smirked as she listened in on the conversation between Norse and Val. “Well, you’re already outlifting me. I can do 90 kilos, but I’m basically relying 100% on my left arm to carry it, and that’s a sure-fire way to be sore for three days.”
Kasiya chuckled. “I mean, I know I’m strong, but even I’m a bit wary of my limits here. Not sure I’d be able to load the bar and curl it one-handed,” he said. “After all, that’s 700 pounds of weights. About… 317 and a half kilos.”
Kaylie added in, “Well, if you could, that’s more than it’d take to lift your father, so, keep that in mind.”
“Certainly enough to prevent me from crushing my throat on the bar, at least.” Valentin commented as he readied himself for the 120KG lift, which also was easily hoisted back onto the little barbell hooks on the bench.
By that point, the racket of it caught the attention of the recruits.
“LOOK! THE GIANT NOODLE IS BENCHING!!!”, Rohan called out, thus prompting every member of the Swedish forces present, including Constantin, to head over and investigate.
What initially was just latent curiosity soon devolved into mindless cheering in an attempt to get Val to beat his (to them unknown) records.
With the added audience, the 130kg, 140kg and 150kg went to Valentin’s chest and back up to the rack again, but not without collateral damage.
As predicted by Valentin, his button-up dress shirt did not appreciate the abuse at all, sending almost every single button flying off in random directions. Only the bottom two buttons held up, with the others becoming little plastic projectiles from the collar downwards.
Despite the distraction, Valentin manages to rack the 150kg barbell without aid, but he does get up to inspect the damage.
“You owe me 879 Krona.” Valentin blankly stated, with Norse mentally in shambles as that shirt apparently was way more expensive than initially thought. The others just stood around the bench, both impressed at Valentin’s abilities and confused at what unfolded between him and Norse.
“Fuck…” Norse muttered, not saying anything beyond that as Valentin himself admitted defeat and, since it was now broken anyways, ditched the shirt entirely, revealing a physique that very well explains his outlandish claims, with dense and compact muscle composition and extraordinarily little body fat.
“DAAAAMN!”, every recruit called out in unison upon seeing Valentin, neither of them having expected that he would turn out to be a more compact and denser, but taller variant of Constantin.
Still, Valentin had his side of the bet to prove and had 160kg racked by Kasiya, which, with loads of cheering and an absolutely flabbergasted Norse surrounding him, was achieved successfuly.
Feeling confident, an attempt at 165kg was made, but turned out too much for the current situation as Valentin stalled halfway going up, requiring Kasiya’s aid to complete it.
Kasiya grimaced in the moment that Val’s shirt gave way, knowing fully how annoying ruining a good, comfortable shirt could be. However, when Val managed to rack up the barbell and then mentioned the cost of his shirt, Kasiya gave a light shrug. He wasn’t aware of the exact value, but he understood that the bigger someone was, the more expensive their clothing tended to be.
As Valentin successfully benched 160 kilograms, Kasiya smiled, though seemed a little concerned when Val asked for 165. He counted up weight plates, then said, “I can give you 362 pounds or 364. One’s just shy of 165, one’s just slightly over it. Your choice.”
“Baby reps. Shy of 165,” Valentin replied.
“Always better to err on the side of caution,” Kasiya said, placing the bar up into the hooks for Valentin.
It turned out that it was probably a good decision to be cautious, as Valentin stalled halfway up, and Kasiya carefully lifted the weights back into the rack to help him out.
“Not bad at all,” Kasiya admitted. “Not bad at all. 110 kilograms lifting 160. I can’t use the bench anyway, but to match that, I’d need a hell of a lot more plates than we have here. And I doubt that I could, to be honest.”
After having failed the attempt at 165, Valentin got up to a seated position on the bench, taking a passing look at the bubble of people around him.
“You win. I’m a fucking wimp compared to you… Like… the fuck?” Norse stammered at the fact that he has been oblivious for all this time.
“I have to ask… What do you think i have been doing for the past eight months or so? Staying in bed and deteriorating further than i already did courtesy of a two month stint spent de-facto bedridden is not exactly my cup of tea… And you cannot really ride much with the poor off-season weather, either.” Valentin mentioned as he loosely draped the now-broken shirt back over his shoulders again.
“Uhm… you make a very solid point…” Norse mumbled as Valentin claimed phone and Wallet out of his hands.
By that time, the recruits and Constantin headed back to work unloading the equipment, the latter of which not exactly pleased, given that he came uncomfortably close to his performance and even managed to beat him soundly if correcting for body weight.
“Time to figure out how i get 900 Krona for your shirt…” he added, mentally going through the list of sellable stuff he had in an attempt to raise sufficient funds.
“Worry about the shirt later. Way later. I still have spares here,” Valentin countered in an attempt to get Norse’s mind elsewhere with rather little success, since it was a matter of honor now.
Kasiya sighed, looking at the mess of weight plates, bars, and the bench he’d brought out. “Well, I dragged all of it out, so…” Kasiya muttered to himself.
Kaylie smirked, figuring a way to kill two birds with one stone. “Hey Norse,” Kaylie called out. “Mind helping Kasiya get the weights back into the boxes? I’ll pay you $20 just for helping, even if all you do is move the lightweight stuff for him. Don’t strain yourself, Kasiya’s stronger than he fuckin’ looks.”
Kasiya took the time to remove all the weights from the bars, then grabbed a stack of 50 pound plates and carried them over to the boxes, making sure they went back in equal amounts so both boxes would end up weighing 350 pounds.
Upon hearing the offer, Norse did not think twice and immediately got to work arranging what little he could lift evenly into the crates as instructed. Contrary to Valentin, he did not specifically train for strength over the winter since he never felt a true need to.
Valentin meanwhile made way for the Kasiya and Norse to clear up the bench, though he did feel bad for not helping since he was the one using it. Instead, he dabbled on his watch, changing his nanites from ‘normal’ to ‘adaptive’. In response, they substantially ramped up their activity which was outwardly obvious to anyone in the know, as Valentin immediately seemed more alert, wired even.
By this time, the equipment supplied by Valentin was off the trucks, which in turn moved clear of the ‘official’ starting area, lining up a bit beyond it. This left the crane truck, which also contained everything the Swedish soldiers brought along for the trip.
Thus, the recruits and Constantin spent a while shuffling equipment and supplies from the HEMTT into the two green lodging carriages while Valentin got to work setting up the generator as contractually agreed with everyone present (at this time only Shift Happens).
Robert was parked up smack-dab in the middle of the area, where his worm-gear support feet ensured perfectly level positioning for maximum efficiency. Rainer was then used to move the other trailers as needed in cooperation with the military personnel.
With that done, Robert was set to produce mains electricity instead of motive power.
After that, a couple boxes were hauled from the stack somewhere on the lot to the plug array on the rear left door, hooking up all three trailers to plugs number #1, #2 and #3 respectively for the time being.
Norse could hear the AC unit whirring from across the lot and immediately claimed his compartment within to take a nap.
Valentin, meanwhile headed back over to Shift Happens:
“Mains electricity is now available. You have plugs number four, five and six until the remaining 24 are filled.” he explains, still not having gone through the effort of changing into a non-broken shirt.
Kasiya smiled as Norse helped out with the weights and equipment, the two of them getting the work done a fair bit quicker than if he’d done so on his own. True to her word, Kaylie made sure her landing zone was clear, then slid off of the roof rack, landing lightly on her feet before handing Norse his $20. As Norse wandered over to his sleeping compartment and Val announced that service had started, Kaylie smiled.
“Good. That means Kasiya can let the 16 cylinder generator take a break,” Kaylie quipped.
“Hey, you’re the one who threw something onto the roof,” Kasiya said, shaking his head. “Admittedly, I got distracted and forgot to shut off the engine.”
“Either way, we’ll need three 400 volt cables and one distribution box. Ideally, we’d use two distribution boxes, but considering that the Carry-All is fitted with the appropriate socket, and I doubt anyone needs 200 gallons of regular unleaded gasoline dispensed right this second, but silently, one box will be fine,” Kaylie said.
As Rukari walked up, Kaylie sighed. “And where have you been?” she asked.
“Marking spots to put light units up,” Rukari replied.
“Right, fair enough. Go get Malavera and the two of you can get these lights up. Kasiya, shut the engine down please. I’m going to see if Jayde’s got any chicken grilled yet. Feel free to join in, Val, there’s likely going to be plenty, and we’re prepared,” she said, motioning to the trailer behind the RV, “to bring leftovers along.”
Between Kasiya, Malavera, and Rukari, it didn’t take long to set up the camp lights for their first proper trial run. The energy-efficient outdoor-rated lights were, admittedly, completely unnecessary in the mid-day Nevada sun, but by having them in place, they had at least guaranteed that by the time others arrived, there would be plenty of light.
Kivenaal and Takaraya joined the others at the tables closest to the RV and truck, both carrying stacked plates of burgers. “Well,” Kiva said, looking over to Kaylie, “after we eat, we get to tell our friends-in-uniform over there that the range is ready.”
Valentin took a quick note on his phone, adding relevant information to the spreadsheet containing usage data and plug assignments.
With that done, he quickly headed back to Robert, making sure that everything was working as intended. Each occupied plug was investigated for correct position, the respective cable being tagged with the team name using it.
With everything running smoothly and fuel for more than three days due to the currently miniscule load, Valentin returned to the others with an almost comically small camping chair in tow.
Meanwhile, at the military side of things, the recruits and Constantin have finished unloading their supplies from the remaining HEMTT, made evident by the entire convoy roaring away from the area in a massive cloud of dust.
“Can we get food with the civvies?” Rohan inquired, his mouth already drooling at the sight of burgers and chicken.
“Sure. The mission officially starts tomorrow morning, anyway,” Constantin confirmed, spreading a boost in morale amongst the ranks as they headed over to join Valentin and Shift Happens. Lack of self-supplied seating and insufficient seating capacity at the benches Shift Happens had set up meant that they took a spot in the dirt near the others, forming their own little circle in the process.
Kaylie smiled as Constantin and his crew joined her crew and Valentin within reasonable speaking range. After making sure that everyone had what they wanted, she settled back into her seat and returned to her plate of chicken thighs.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a Shift Happens lunch break without Kivenaal trying his best to be odd, returning from the truck with a brown paper bag in hand. He opened it up and offered Kasiya one of the items inside, with Kasiya giving him a wary look.
“I know better,” Kasiya said. Sure enough, as Kiva pulled out a couple of small honey-glazed scorpions, Kasiya had to fight his instinct to leap up out of his seat, instead choosing to glare at Kivenaal. “Must you? Seriously, the rest of us are trying to eat the burgers and chicken that Kayden and Jayde cooked, and you’re snacking on those,” Kasiya grumbled.
“Yeah,” Kaylie mentioned, speaking to Constantin’s crew, “Best bit of advice I can give: If Kivenaal offers to share a snack with you, it’s probably best to politely refuse. Half of his snacks aren’t anything you’d want.”
Kivenaal sighed. “Well, there goes my opportunity for a bit of fun,” Kivenaal mumbled.
“Pull any pranks on the security team,” Takaraya warned, “and I will personally make you pay for it. In blood, if I must.”
Kasiya stared over at his father in a light bit of shock, then shook his head and said, “Someone’s holding a grudge.”
“You would, too, if someone used your pillow-case to carry snakes home for soup. I had to replace it, I couldn’t get the smell out. Then he got the bright idea to wake me up with the sound of a rattlesnake and put a rubber one on the floor of the video room when I dozed off,” Takaraya replied.
Jayde smirked. “Yeah, Kiva learned that day not to mess with Takaraya.”
“At this point, I’ve learned not to mess with any of the three big ones. Takaraya hits like a freight-train, Kasiya smashed my face into my plate of mashed potatoes after I tricked him the first time with the bag of scorpions at the lunch table, and Malavera once body-slammed the both of us into my pool for a… minor miscommunication.”
“You closed the lid of my laptop when I told you I was working, so I threw you into the pool to cool off a bit,” Malavera said. “You learned to wait the few extra minutes for me to finish up what I’m working on.”
Kayden smirked, then said, “Yeah, let’s steer this conversation out of dangerous waters. What goes on between you and Kiva is between the two of you, and it’s not great table talk.”
Jayde sighed, smacked Kayden over the back of his head, then said, “That was for putting that mental image in my head.”
“So smack Kiva and Mal for bringing it up in the first place!” Kayden grumbled, rubbing the back of his head.
“Kiva has sharp horns and Mal hits back, no thanks,” Jayde quipped in response.
Rukari chuckled, then turned to Constantin. “Not envy Kaylie’s job. Keeping group together about as easy as herding cats,” he said, before flinching as Kaylie tossed a chicken bone at him. “Sorry, was not meant in that way,” Rukari said, apologizing. “Is saying I heard here.”
Most of the guests at the table settled for burgers, with only Hans and William choosing the chicken. As they all dug into their respective meals, casual trashtalking banter filled the small sub-circle that was the military. Valentin meanwhile didn’t say too much, bring sat at one of the head ends of their bench arrangement.
As Kivenaal pulled his prank on Kasiya, no reaction came from the soldiers due to being oblivious to it happening in the first place. Valentin just shook his head in disapproval, set down his burger and looked at the honey-scorpions in disgust.
“Really?” he asks, not expecting anything meaningful in return and continuing with his meal as if nothing happened.
Later on, Constantin was alerted by Rukari,with a mention regarding the herding of cats.
“I understand that. I have my own dunce-club to take care of here…”, Constantin replies.
“We’re no dunce-club!” Mary protests.
“Jacques is the only one of you dumbfucks who managed to pass gun safety training on the first go-around. And i am not gonna mention your absolute ineptitude in aiming it.” Constantin countered.
“You make a very solid point… We’re a bunch of idiots going god-knows-where,” William chimed in in defeat.
“Says the guy who managed to send four of five past the target backboard into the hill. Top-tier dunce-aim right there,” Jacque noted, adding further salt to the wounds.
Kivenaal, overhearing the mention of gun safety training, bad aim, and then hearing about someone managing to not only miss a target, but the board it was attached to, put his bag of scorpions away and leaned partway across the table to ask, “Am I going to regret having set up the target range? I mean, of our entire crew, the only one who we can say failed his safety training the first time was Kayden.”
“Learn from my bit of pain,” Kayden said. “Finger outside the guard unless you intend to shoot. Do not leave your finger in the guard and attempt to holster your weapon. I’ve got a hell of a scar on my right leg from forgetting that rule once. It only takes once because if it happens again, you shouldn’t be allowed anything more dangerous than a sharp stick.”
Kaylie added in, “I mean, I’m fully willing to admit, my marksmanship sucks. I can hit man-sized targets at pistol range, but that’s about all that I’ll claim.”
Jayde shrugged. “I can understand missing the target completely…” he admitted.
Malavera groaned. “Jayde, you didn’t miss the target. You blew the screws out of the target frame and collapsed the target.”
“He did a lot better once I showed him how to hold the revolver properly,” Kivenaal admitted.
Kasiya shrugged, then said, “I know how to shoot, just haven’t shot much. Can’t say much on my accuracy as a result.”
“Nor can I. As told already, i shot a pistol once and ruined both wrists in the process. Problems you get when you can palm most handguns…” Valentin commented, “i know gun safety, and i did manage to hit the target if i remember correctly, but it’s hard to avoid putting long fingers and massive hands in places where they are not supposed to be.”
Valentin then placed his right hand onto the table in front of him to exemplify the issue he was having. While palm width was on the large end already, it was nothing compared to the length of his fingers, which extended FAR beyond anyone else’s even relatively speaking.
Constantin, meanwhile, had to backpedal a bit:
“None of them failed for violating safety procedures per-se. Fucking that up continuously would kick them out with immediate effect. They had to re-take the class as any soldier has to pass a test for accuracy to proceed with basic training. And with rifle accuracy rivalling a mortar at two kilometers range, it took a few attempts,” he explained in an attempt to recover some credibility.
“Arsenic got close, though. Thought it was a good idea to eat a banana during the initial briefing, haha!” Hans joked, mimicking the process of eating one, which immediately was taken up as something else entirely.
“I was hungry…” he protested, not really being heard as the others laughed out loud at the misinterpretation of Hans’ motions.
Kivenaal nodded. “Fair enough, they’re safe, they just had to have some training to shoot straight,” he said.
When Valentin placed his hand on the table, Kayden momentarily studied it, then looked to Kasiya. “Can we borrow a pen real quick, and have a sheet of paper?”
“Sure,” Kasiya said, getting up and opening the door to the Carry-All, pulling a sheet of paper out of one of his five-subject notebooks, then finding a pen that wasn’t sized to his massive hands. He handed both to Kayden, who traced his hand on the paper, then slid the sheet over to Val.
“Think we’re of similar size?” he asked. “If so, I’ve got a lightly-modified Colt 1911 that you might be able to shoot, if you’re comfortable with .45 ACP. I bulked up the grip a little and had the trigger guard enlarged, so, it’s more comfortable to shoot. I think Kivenaal has a .357 Magnum somewhere. Jayde’s hands are a bit big, and I doubt you want to fire a short-barreled .44 Magnum, so I can safely rule that out. Kaylie’s gun is a bit small for your hands, though.”
Valentin took the sheet of paper and placed his hand on top of Kayden’s tracing.
“Looks about right. Though, as I said already, I have shot that Glock exactly once. That was prior to the accident, where I actually did have noodle arms,” Valentin explained, slipping back the sheet of paper, “I have no idea about firearms beyond safety rules and the two firearms i am vaguely familiar with. The other being my fathers Kar98, which is decorating his living room. That one i got shown a few times, but never actually fired. Presumably due to licensing shenanigans.”
“Well, once we finish up lunch, if you have an interest in shooting, you’re welcome to join us. We’ll loan you weapons for the duration, and in the interest of safety, keep things at least reasonable in power,” Kayden said.
Jayde smiled. “I mean, you’re welcome to try my revolver, but,” he reached over, sliding the paper and pen over to him and tracing his hand on the page, “my custom grip might be a little bulky for your hands, and I’d rather you didn’t get hurt firing something a bit too powerful. Even my wrists start to get a bit sore after a couple of reloads.”
Kayden grabbed Jayde’s right wrist loosely and quipped, “That’s because you have noodle arms, Jayde.”
“Hey!” Jayde said, pulling his arm free of Kayden’s grip. “I’m getting better. I’m up to 160 pounds on the bench press. About… 72 and a half kilograms. I can do a full set of ten, and last month, I struggled with just doing one.”
Kaylie smiled, then said, “Jayde, I know you’re trying, and that’s a hell of an accomplishment, but I’m sure if we gave Val another month with the weights, he could bench you. He did 160 kilograms earlier, you’re a bit over 170. He almost managed 165.”
Jayde, for a moment, seemed a little shocked, then said, “Kudos, Val. That… That’s a lot of weight. Maybe one day I’ll get there.”
“Thank you, but I am no good for a benchmark, since I technically qualify as being on PEDs. That said, if we ignore units, we are on equal footing,” Valentin chuckled as he took a look at Jayde’s tracing.
“Once again, no idea on what might and might not work. Not a single discharged round with this body here…” he reiterates, spreading his arms and looking down at himself to reinforce the point.
At this point, the military squat was done with their meals and handed any borrowed cutlery and dishes back to whoever was not busy at this moment.
They each thanked Shift Happens for the food in some more or less formal way and headed back to their trailers to continue sorting through their supplies and armaments.
Jayde chuckled. “Still technically a fair benchmark,” he remarked. “Neither of us are really competing for strength, just trying to offset the disadvantages of our height. And I have no desire to look like Kasiya.”
Kasiya looked over at Jayde, then said, “I found it’s easier to work out when Kivenaal is my workout partner.”
“He’s social,” Kivenaal admitted. “He’ll talk in between sets, push you to try harder, give just a little bit more, and expects the same in return. Turns out, he’s got the genetics to take “built like a tank” literally.”
“I have been rotating through partners like a revolving door on the off-chance that i am doing traditional gym-work. People do not seem all to eager to work with someone that is at least a foot taller than everyone else in the room,” Valentin mentioned as he neatly set his cutlery atop his plate, which has long been emptied already.
“Anyway, i need to prepare some more bureaucracy for the other incoming teams. If you need anything, chances are that i am sat in Robert.” he added as he got up and politely nodded into the group, heading off to the generator car soon after.
Jacia: its about bloody time, I think we could take part this year
Johnny: fucking yes, I’m sick of just imagining it in my head
Jacia: the meeting point is apparently only three hours away
Jackie: yo dipshits. What cars? You have an italian super car, i drive a 4x4 and he has a sports wagon
Jacia: pretty sure an SS-8 counts
Johnny: uh…nah the engine limitations say nah
Jacia: well…my guy Joe! He has a shitty 80s sedan we can use!
Johnny: no no, you can use. looking at Jackie, so you remember when we visited that Junkyard
Jackie: and you saw that Tiharris you liked but i stopped you from getting it?
Johnny:…
Jackie: you did fucking not
Johnny: I had to! The poor thing was gonna die! And we got that RLA Crate engine! We can frankenstien this bitch!
Jacia: an American crate engine in a 70s british luxury coupe?..I dig it
and so, the idiots had entered the ring
Yeah, I fucked up and had “drivers” where I should have said “vehicles” regarding aggression. Please send us the information regarding vehicle aggression - we can’t tell who’s driving which car.
A pair of low rumbles signalled their arrival long before the brilliant beams of Kate’s car ever illuminated the camp. The 1325’s V8 coughed itself to a rattly slumber; at some point during that cacophony, the 606 was shut off. The big pink car jostled left and right as Octavia pulled her blade from the special mounting point on the wheel. She was the first one out, the dim light of the dawn glittering over the assembled cars and sand. Her shoulders sank just a bit, some small but visible degree of tension lessening as she took in her surroundings. Her dull red eyes, a wan illumination behind them, looked around.
“Is that really the right spot, Kate?”
“Of course, my dearie,” Kate answered smoothly. She had exited her car quietly at some point, the dark violet of her robes difficult to distinguish from the fading night sky behind her. Her pale face and color-matched, equally illuminated eye were starkly visible in contrast, allowing the way she smiled without quite getting the expression right to stick out in the dark. “You know we must go introduce ourselves, get to know the other drivers, at some point.”
“Maybe. I just… ain’t quite ready for that,” Octavia admitted, her claw tinkling along her blade. “These folks are rather different from home, and we never… I guess stopped to talk to nobody afore.”
“Overthinking, child, is the forefather of hesitation,” Kate replied. She opened the trunk at the back of her car, removing a simple sleeping bag from her trunk. It was truly simple, a nest of clothes bound with a rope, which Kate began to undo. A gloved hand wiped at her eye and she yawned, throwing it out over the back seat of her little car. “But we’re in no hurry regardless. Just don’t be worn out for the actual driving- and maybe go try to find the event planner, would you kindly?”
Crossing her arms, Octavia shook her head and went to lie down on the shelf in the back of her car. A few hours later and she’d head out from their little concealed camp, seeking to let it be known that they would be running the race.
Maxim, Urijah, and Renee are friends, formerly students at Cornell University in New York. They’re all graduates with some degrees related to Media and Film. Max and Urijah had always had an interest in the “lived documentary,” that thing where the outcome of the story isn’t known going in. Renee was more interest in Hollywood, she wanted to be a writer or a director. That is unimportant. What is important was a thread, a story someone had told on some forum somewhere. A rally into another world, Urijah had found it during a late night scroll through social media. He was intrigued. He read the whole thing once, twice, three times. He knew what had to be done. If this thing happened again, he and Max had their damn breakthrough.
A few weeks later, while Max was reading the thread, an update was posted. This update was important. This was it. What they wanted. The four members of Team M.A.D. lived together, that was a lucky point. Made organisation easy. Max left his room, a happy look on his face. He called through the house for Urijah, eventually meeting in the kitchen.
“Bro. That damn thread, I was reading it right? No knew posts since it finished? Yeah, well guess fucking what? It updated!” Max was effectively yelling right into Urijah’s ear.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait. There’s a new post? What did it say?”
“New Rally. This is it bro. The chance.” Urijah started fist-pumping. The pair of them instantly started scouring for cheap shitty cars, not even thinking to inform Victoria or Renee that they needed their help.
Their first car, the obvious choice, was a short bus trip from their house. Max and Victoria had been sent to inspect it, and buy it. To Max, the condition didn’t matter. The cars, in reality, were not important factors, it was whoever else partook in the event. They eventually arrived at the warehouse, a moderately sized building marked with the logo of some car importing business. They were met by some older man, and lead inside to their prize. An Ex-West German Walkenhorst UtilXL form 1975, previously used as a vehicle in the Fire Department in Munich. this car had come to the US not six months ago, but the original buyer flaked after learning it wasn’t in the best shape. To Max, that didn’t matter. Instead, he could get a cool, rugged fire truck for like $2,000.
The problems? The flashers didn’t work, the right side shelves in the rear compartment were missing, the left side rear brake light was out, one of the left side compartments was locked shut without a key, and one of the window wipers was broken. These were fixable to them, granted they probably couldn’t legally fix the flashers, but that didn’t matter. Both Urijah and Victoria worked in a car repair place while at university. Well, Victoria still works there, so they can fix the problems in the off-hours.
Car number two was more of an issue. Urijah and Max had set out a few days after buying the UtilXL to a small rural town a few hours away. For the second car, they needed something to serve as an operations hub, since the UtilXL really only had storage. Urijah had, ahead of time, scoped out a few options. One stood out to them, and really was a shock at being so cheap. They had bought sight unseen a 1985 Sakura Citrine LWB. This one wasn’t actually road legal, having been imported from Australia in the early 2010s, and stuck in someone’s storage since.
The car was pretty good, some underbody rust, no wing mirrors for some reason, and plenty of room, comfortable for something from the mid-80s.
The cars were bought together at the shop Victoria works at, and the plans were laid. The UtilXL would become a hauler of just stuff, spares and repair kits, extra batteries, food, tents, anything that the team needs to work and live. The Citrine would become a mobile editing booth. A PC, a laptop, chargers for GoPros and the large main cameras, many TB of storage. It took a few days, they had to go get a lot of shit, and Renee’s car wasn’t very big. In this time, they divided the team. Max and Victoria would take the Citrine, considering Maxim was likely to be the one looking after the video footage, while Urijah and Renee would drive the UtilXL. The cars were loaded, the cameras recording, and the Mojave was the first target.
There are two rules which I will include in every one of my posts, to be clear (in a details pane, to save space). These are:
TLDR: Flirting is fine, feel free to ask. Outright bigotry is less fun for me and extra work for people who already put in a lot of extra work to make this community work.
I know that might not be strictly needed. The first half is covered by the rules of the challenge and my consent post. The second is arguably covered by the community standards and by challenge rules. Still, I always believe that an explicit statement is better than an implicit assumption.
[Scene: Rural Australia. A sunburnt country, a land of sweeping plains. Gum leaves hang down, while grass tress sway in the breeze. All is still, for a moment - from stage left, enter an extravanly decorated bus, decorated in the colours of many pride flags. The name “PRISCILLA II” is displayed.]
[The bus stops, and two people come out - TAINT JIMMY and TAYMIN PALA. JIMMY is a drag king, real name GIA. He is dressed in like a punk rocker from the early 00s - black jeans, skate shoes, an undershirt with an unbuttoned overshirt. His black hair is spiked and held up by gel, and eyeshadow is haphazardly smeared around his eyes. He stands about 5’4", with little muscle mass. TAYMIN, meanwhile, is a drag queen, real name BEN. She is clad in a feather boa and a sequined red dress. Her hair is a pastel purple, a curled but realistic style not unlike Dame Edna Everidge. The one concession to practicality is her shoes, a pair of hiking shoes rather than the heels one might expect from a queen. She stands at about 5’7", taller than JIMMY. JIMMY speaks with a general Australian accent, while TAIMIN speaks with a broad Australian accent.]
JIMMY: Well, about what I expected, right? It’s a bus, so it’s slow as balls. Should be legal, how was the bed?
TAIMIN: Bed was absolutely delightful, darling, no complaints there! I think Kit’s still asleep, want me to grab them? Eddie and Jane are making coffee.
JIMMY: Yeah, nah, I’m sure Jane will take care of it, and Kit’ll spend some time getting ready for the world, you know how it is.
TAIMIN: Sounds about right, yeah, may as well. Still got some paint to throw up along the side of the bus I reckon, should work. You hear about the car Kit’s been working on?
JIMMY: The one carved from fibreglass? Saw some of the drawings, wonder if it’ll be done in time.
[A man exits the bus, wearing a black and red checkered flannel and baggy cargo shorts. The collar has a litany of pins - he/they, a trans flag, a Bluey pin… This is EDDIE. He is shorter than JIMMY, an even five feet with a rounded face. Straight black hair covers one of their eyes, the sides of his hair are shaved. He has a small amount of stubble, and carries three mugs with drinks - two in one hand, one in the other. They speak with a Belfast accent, slightly high in pitch. A simple black ring sits on the middle finger of his right hand, and he wears black lipstick.]
EDDIE: Hey, coffee’s ready. One white, one black, and my tea.
[The two mugs are taken, leaving EDDIE to raise the third and sip it.]
EDDIE: Funny, isn’t it? Just got over here, and already we’re on the move.
[A fourth person hugs EDDIE from behind. This is JANE - 5’9". She wears an orange button-up shirt and black skinny jeans, tighter than JIMMY’s. They are lithe and slender, with wavy blue hair coming down to her shoulders. She wears sleek, modern glasses, and has a rugged watch on her left hand. On their right middle finger, there sits a ring identical to EDDIE’S. She speaks with a New Zealand accent.]
JANE: Should be fine so long as we’re together, my little raincloud…
[JANE gently kisses EDDIE’S neck, smirking.]
JIMMY: Ah, you two are so cute, should make it fun, for sure… Do we know how we are getting to America? Has Kit mentioned that?
[A voice can be heard from the bus, with a cultivated Australian accent. KIT.]
KIT: I’m dealing with it, don’t worry! It’ll all be fine!
[The group laughs and chuckles. It only takes a couple of seconds for KIT to come out. Xe wears a long, flowing black coat and matching pants. Xir hair is cut in a feminine bob, contrasting with a thin moustache and goatee. Xir face is androgynous, the sort of face that presents a different impression depending on the angle from which one approaches. The inside of the coat is crushed purple velvet, with a white vest visible. Below the sleeves of the coat are white gloves, matching the vest. Xir feet are clad in polished leather boots, a downright theatrical getup, almost rivalling the bus. Xe is an even six feet tall, the tallest of the group.]
KIT: Let’s just enjoy the testing, shall we?
Stardate 48554.3
S.S. Mono, Orbit around Cygnus III
A green skinned alien with two antennas on top of their head materialises in a dimly lit room. They look around, a bit startled and frightened, clutching a leather bag with their eight fingered hand. A short while later, a yellow six-armed alien materialises a short distance away. The two exchange a quick greeting and start an animated conversation.
Escaped?
Affirmative!
Security?
Pursuit!
Loot?
Here. The green alien points to the leather bag.
Casualties?
None!
Others?
Unknown.
Hide!
Where?
Unknown!
Jumps?
The alien checks a nearby computer console that indicates a dangerously low fuel level.
One!
A strange device buzzes in the pocket of the yellow alien. They look at it together and see the following message: “It looks like you are trying to find a good hiding spot. Would you like help?”
Yes!
After another buzzing sound the device displays a short message saying “Don’t panic” in large friendly letters, and then shows an advertisement for the SR 2023. Both aliens skim quickly through the ad.
Nehmenweld!
Where?
Undimension.
Untrackable!
Excellent!
Caveat?
Earth first!
Where?
Sol III.
Humans?
Abundant.
Inconspicuous!
Harmless!
Mostly.
Transformations?
Another look at the computer console on the wall.
One!
The strange device buzzes again, this time with a more urgent buzz. Both make an affirmative gesture to each other.
Course!
Sol III!
Engage!
They exchange another affirmative glance.
Transform!
The two aliens jump into a nearby chamber.
Energise!
After a short bath in light and sound (and a few screams), both emerge from the chamber, outwardly transformed. They look each other over.
Human!
Twins!
Cal. (The formerly green alien points at themselves.)
Curt. (The other does likewise.)
They don’t have much time to orient themselves in their new - and fairly nondescript, even for human standards - shapes until the ships computer announces their arrival at the destination.
Slow!
Cloak!
Land?
Yes!
Where?
North!
Canada?
Friendly?
Yes!
Go ahead!
…
OOC: Not my Plan A but I don’t seem to be inspired right now to roll my Oxracers out of cryo storage, so I came up with this instead. As I suspect that most of my writing energy will go into LHC’s Mara stories for the next few months, this format will hopefully allow me to get by with a two word post per stage, if necessary. Let me know if you can’t make heads or tails of what happened, then I’ll have to rethink the format…
Team Sinesian Rejects
plus Shift Happens and VSmgAB
Team information
Previous part (Part 0.99 - Turn it off-)
Next part (Part 2 - Sour Dreams)
Part 1 - Sunday Friday driver
March 31, 2023 – 11:20AM
As TJ, Alauran, Ianis and Jas exit the weathered motel, the sun is already high in the sky- They wouldn’t have to rush by any means, but if they had a failure they’d probably be too late for Jas’s tastes, which would still be eight hours before they’d actually be late. Stepping in the cars, they set off for the camp, some forty miles away. With Ianis alone in the Ilaris Itan Ute again, the rest make themselves comfortable in the small Imbe.
As they start driving, they start to see again why they didn’t head for the city. Traffic. Traffic everywhere. Not coarse or rough, but everywhere nonetheless. Slowly wading through the traffic, they eventually make their way to the freeway, where they finally pick up some speed. Going only a few miles had taken an hour, but they’d pick up pace now. Like usual, Ianis took the opportunity to swim through traffic going at least twenty over, while the others kept with the flow of traffic.
Jas then speaks up over the CB.
“Hey, is it fine if we like, stop before the camp to get a final look at cars before we head over there-“
Ianis then scoffs, keying the mic in the process. After some silence, he replies.
“Fine, fine. Whatever. If it soothes your nerves.”
Jas looks at TJ and Alauran.
“I’m starting to think bringing him was a mistake.”
“Well, let’s not decide that yet. Maybe he’s just in a bad mood, we all have those days.” TJ gives Alauran a bit of a shove, who gives one back, upsetting the car a bit in the process, which swerves left and right a bit before driving straight again.
“Well, that’s certainly a very serious and chronic case of having a bad mood.” Jas sighs.
The trio-plus-one drove on the desert highway, engine performance noticeably down from when they started in South Dakota. They eventually turn on to Nevada State Route 160, known as the Pahrump Valley Highway, for going through the unincorporated town, though the camp is well short of Pahrump. A few minutes after making the turn, they stop.
Immediately after the Itan’s engine stops, Ianis steps out. He’s either checking tens of things with a glance per second, or just pretending to. Either way, it wasn’t a good check. As he finishes up his round of inspection, TJ opens his door, and with some effort, shouts:
“What’s the matter with you?”
Ianis stops dead in his tracks. His face turns to murder, then back to neutral. Muttering as he walks back to the driver’s side, he says,
“Nothing. I just want to get this done.”
Before TJ can formulate a response, Ianis steps back in the car, door slamming, drowning out any attempt that TJ could have made at getting Ianis’s attention. As he starts the engine again, he honks the horn before driving off into the distance, TJ standing confused, looking at the dust kicked up by the ute in the distance. Deciding it wasn’t worth pursuing, he goes back to what they originally stopped for, which was for a bit of an inspection.
Looking over the car, most things were fine. Radiator was good, oil and coolant were at a good level, brake and clutch fluid topped up, fire extinguisher working well on Jas’s face, and windshield untouched by Jas too. To top it off, the wipers magically started working again, and with that, TJ decided the technical inspection of their own was done. All good, still blowing smoke all the same, however.
As TJ entered the car again, he looked at Alauran and Jas, equally puzzled as he was. Waiting for some talk, he realizes that nobody really wants to speak, which is when he stomps the accelerator, getting back on the road. Only a few minutes later however, they see Ianis and the Itan on the sand beside the road.
“I have the urge to just leave him in the dust, like he’s done to us before.”
“That would probably be a really bad idea. We can’t just leave him with half of everything we have. Considering his policy right now, we’d be positively screwed, probably not returning to see us in the rally again.” – Alauran continues, “Besides, we’re a team. We should seek him out if he’s having troubles. Could have a lot on his mind.”
Hearing this, TJ hits the brakes, the sporty pads screeching as the anti-lock braking system tries to prevent them from becoming a scorch on the guardrail. Jas, who wasn’t buckled in, shoots forward, hitting face-first into the headrest of Alauran. Both yelp a swear as it happens, Jas subsequently throwing on his seatbelt as quickly as possible.
When Alauran tried and failed to fumble with the wind-up windows, TJ decided it wasn’t worth waiting for the little glass to come back down from the simultaneously slipping and rubbing linkages. He steps out of the car, gaining the courage to confront Ianis.
“What is really the matter with you? Is there really anything that’s bothering you to the point you have to leave the rest of your team behind? What do you want?”
Silence.
“We invited you to come with us so we could all be back together for a fun time. For old time’s sake. It kind of hurts us all, you know?”
Ianis throws the cigarette bud to the side.
“Do I come across like that?”
TJ’s face turns into the physical representation of ‘Did you really just say that?’, also known as immense disappointment.
“YES.”
Ianis turns, facing the car.
“I see. I will slow down. This time.”
TJ lets out an immense sigh, knowing that he probably won’t be able to convince him to stay together. With an immense effort he speaks up again.
“Okay…just drive in convoy this one time so we look like actual normal people who joined for the fun of it.” – He sharpens his gaze, “Then you can do whatever. We’ll be having fun by ourselves.”
Hearing no response, TJ is defeated, and heads back to his car, stepping in, and turning the key. As soon as he’s about to drive off, Ianis steps back in to the Itan, where he turns the engine on and throws it in to drive, with the foot to the floor. A bit of wheel complaints, but he’s moving.
The desert made it hard to focus on anything that wasn’t the immediate road ahead or the tenseness of the situation with Ianis. Having figured out how to work the radio, Jas sets out to lighten the mood a bit by playing some music.
Off of the midi tone generator from his laptop. Poorly recorded on to a cassette.
“Guess what, I’ve got some music to keep us company for a bit.”
Like he did before, he triumphantly pulls out a cassette, this time from a cassette deck he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere. Labeled ‘Cool Beats’, he puts it down beside him.
Alauran, understandably confused, asks, “Where did you even get that?”
“I brought a lot of stuff I thought we might need. Like this!” – Jas swings what appears to be a throwing axe – no, tomahawk, in the cabin.
Alauran, fearing he or TJ will end up with an ear less than they started the journey with, shouts panickedly. “PUT THAT DOWN! YOU CAN’T JUST SWING THAT IN THE CAR!” – He tries to wrestle the object from Jas, eventually getting a good grip, and with superior strength he makes Jas lose his, subsequently resulting in the thing flying in to the windshield before hitting the dash.
“Okay…can you NOT do that ever again, Jas?”
TJ chimes in. “We…have to keep this thing running for five-thousand miles, and that includes not tearing up the interior. Remember we have to sleep in this, since Ianis is probably not going to let us sleep in the back of the ute.”
Jas relents, sighs, and hands the cassette over to Alauran, who puts it in the cassette player. Whatever tune comes out certainly isn’t masterfully produced, but at least has a semblance of melody.
“To be honest, this isn’t helping.” TJ says.
“Let’s just let it play before we make judging statements.” Alauran responds, Jas looking satisfied with the proposal.
As the tape runs its course the three start to relax. Though it ends after fifteen minutes because Jas forgot how to get the thing to record on the other side without the help of the long-lost manual.
Mind cleared, they head on to the gravel path laid out in front of them. In the distance, Alauran spots a column of dust.
“There’s some dust rising in the distance, suppose our destination is there.”
TJ, who has quickened the pace a bit following some close approaches from Ianis, says, “Hard to miss it, considering the only trace of civilization here is this gravel path, and it has to end somewhere.”
Alauran shrugs. “I guess…are those military?”
TJ suddenly tugs at the wheel and slows down to move aside. The vehicles rumble past at a somewhat slow pace. Ianis, however, continues on and nearly collides with the trucks, before slowing down, locking the wheels as he gives a love tap to the Imbe, knocking off the already damaged rear bumper, which was held in by a few weak rivets.
As the cars drive on, they eventually reach the campsite. The sun makes everything a bit of a squinting exercise, but a pair of HD-GVs can be seen, with four Diones and their accompanying trailers. Along with them stands a container with what would presumably be water, and a few charcoal grills to finish it off. Additionally, someone appears to be sitting at a picnic table with a computer.
TJ drives up at speed, tugs on the handbrake in an attempt to be stylish. Instead he just slides in to a bush. Ianis arrives more tamely, parking the vehicle, before walking off to go have a smoke and ponder the whole rally ahead of him.
TJ steps out of the vehicle, for his side hasn’t been graced with the presence of an unknown bush. Looking around, he sees a few people walking around and the aforementioned someone using a computer.
Walking up to the closest person he can see, he makes a bit of a noise to draw the attention of Rohan “Arsenic” Patel, before speaking up.
“Heya, I’m here for the Shitbox Rally. This the right place to be?”
Rohan is caught in the middle of carrying a crate labeled as containing ammo.
With wide eyes, he looks back at the stranger, simply shaking his head in the general direction of the HD-GVs of Shift Happens.
Another soldier, passing by, speaks up: “We’re just defense. Hosts are over there.”
TJ, who has never dealt with anyone from the military before, simply goes “Roger, uh, thanks.”, before briskly walking off to the HD-GVs. In the meantime, the rest of the team disembarks the Imbe, standing around, waiting for TJ to come back with more instructions.
Kasiya pulled himself up over the back of the HD-GV Home-Unit’s climate control fan assembly, nearing the end of a quick workout. This time, he noticed a smaller wolf-like being walking toward them, making him pause for a few seconds at the top of his lift. Deciding that meeting the new person was important, Kasiya heaved himself away from the vehicle, landing “lightly” on his feet.
Takaraya, inside the Home-Unit, gripped the counter next to the microwave as he experienced a “minor earthquake” courtesy of his son.
Kasiya walked toward the new person, then said, “Anything I can help you with? I’m Kasiya, with the host team, Shift Happens.”
As TJ stabilizes himself from the impact, he goes on to introduce his team.
“Uh, hey. I’m here for the rally with my team Sinesian Rejects?” - He completely forgets to introduce himself to the ten-foot being towering above him. Eventually, he remembers that he has a name, and says,
“I’m Tolok-Javon by the way…you can call me TJ. I’m, uh, here to tell you we’ve arrived. So like, if you’re keeping track of that.”
He knows he’s spouting whatever words can spring up in his mind at this point, but continues talking.
“So like…what do we do? Are there any, like, things to set up for the others? I suppose we’re the first team to arrive.”
Kasiya gave a light smile, then looked to TJ and said, “I’m not the official keeper-of-the-records, but I know who is.”
He looked over to Kaylie and waved her over, then said, “Kaylie’s somewhat our team captain. Also means she keeps the records. Kaylie, this is Tolok-Javon from team Sinesian Rejects.”
Kaylie nodded, grabbing her phone and checking over the entry information. “Right, a team of four, two vehicles,” Kaylie said, her chromed left arm glinting slightly in the sunlight. “Says here you want some power, so I’ll send Kasiya to let Valentin know you’re here. Now…” Kaylie sighed, looking around for Malavera. “Twin Suns, how can it be this hard to find a two-headed wolf? Kasiya, where’s Malavera at?”
“Playing video games on his laptop, picnic table just over there,” Kasiya said, motioning in the direction of a handful of toilet stalls and a lone picnic table.
Kaylie shook her head, then said, “Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do. I need to get Malavera to inspect your cars. You, on the other hand, can enjoy our camp for the moment. If you’re hungry, let Takaraya know. He’s the other rather-large wolf, can’t miss him, he’s just in there,” Kaylie mentioned, pointing to the Home-Unit, “and he’ll re-heat either some burgers or chicken for you.”
As TJ deeply ponders the opportunity to eat, he decides he doesn’t exactly want to bother anyone else, exacerbated by the fact that they had a huge supply of perishables to burn through, courtesy of Alauran’s shopping a couple of days prior. Looking back up, he says,
“Thanks for the offer! We do have a lot of food ourselves that we need to get through before it goes bad. And Jas of the team really wants to try cooking with…unconventional equipment.” - remembering the video where someone cooked bacon using a gun barrel.
Kaylie chuckled. “As someone who has done burgers with a hot engine, my advice? Don’t use the smoke machine, everything will taste like motor oil afterward.” She fired off a message to Malavera, who put his game on pause and got up to look over the two cars.
Malavera walked over to the pair of Ilaris vehicles, one a slightly damaged Itan ute with a broken windshield, one an Ilaris Imbe that looked like it was more-or-less two or three cars put together.
He looked around, trying to figure out who was in charge, then waved over TJ.
“What in the name of the Moons is this?” Malavera asked, motioning to the Frankencar.
“That’s… The windshield on the ute, I’ll have Jayde take a look at that for you. This, however… It’s hardly safe. Then again, it’s your funeral if you crash it. I would get the two big guys over here to lift the front so I could get a good look underneath, but seeing the “craftsmanship” used to weld this back together, I’d be afraid they’d rip the suspension off by accident.”
TJ, under the scrutiny of the two-headed Khalan who knew a thing or two, relented on the quality of his work, going on to say, “Y-yeah. The car isn’t…well…great, but I’m sure it’s safer than most other cars that’ll be around here- it hasn’t rusted at all, since it’s made from aluminum. And hey, at least it has a roll-cage.” - pointing at the steel tube structure, unconvincingly.
“Which means if we roll over we’ll have a head. Legs? Not so sure. But a head at least.”
He looks around, trying to think of anything else that would redeem the poor craftsmanship in reassembly. Eventually, he thinks of something.
“And we have a functional fire extinguisher. I tested it on his” - pointing at Jas, “fugly face.”
Jas, sitting on a rock using his computer, goes and throws a pebble at TJ, promptly missing by a fair margin and putting another dent in the Imbe’s bodywork instead.
“Just aluminum things. Like denting at the slightest sign of an impact.” - He kicks the door for dramatic effect, accidentally denting it even more than it already was.
“You’d be surprised to know our rigs are aluminum bodied, too. Yet you witnessed Kasiya, the 500 kilogram, three meter tall, midnight-furred skyscraper using it as exercise equipment,” Malavera replied.
“As said, it’s your choice to drive or ride in this. Consider them both legal, if only just barely for this one,” Malavera added, motioning to the Frankencar. “Here, it’s a Shitbox Rally sticker. Put it on the passenger side of your windshield. Or on the hood. Anywhere you choose. I’d do it, but I don’t need to put any more dents in this car. Also, who’s the one who painted the, ah… “object,” on the fender of the ute?”
Alauran, who has remained silent for most of the conversation, speaks up in unison with TJ:
“Jas.”
Hearing his name, Jas stands up from the rock, setting the heavy laptop aside. “What’s up?” - He says.
“Malavera here wants to know about that .” Alauran points at the…shape.
“I have no idea how that got on there! It was just there by the end of the painting session.”
TJ and Alauran look at each other, both wishing that Jas could at least make an effort to lie, instead of the crackhead paint-job equivalent of a dog eating someone’s homework.
Malavera sighed. “Ran out of paint?” he asked. Before getting an answer, he added another question with, “Would you like a can of either orange or black to cover that up, or are you just leaving it?”
Jas stutters out, “Uh, yes. That. I’m not touching paint again after I ruined my favorite shirt with pink paint. So you can count me out of painting over it.” He then sits back down to do something on his laptop, pretending that the entire thing didn’t happen.
TJ looks at the object pictured and decides it’s probably not worth the effort. Similarly, Alauran just pretends he doesn’t see the pink shape on the fender.
“We’ll keep it, it’s probably not as bad as other people’s paint jobs. And if someone doesn’t like it, we’ll just throw some paint bucket on there.”
Malavera chuckled. “Fair enough. As said, both cars pass tech-inspection. We’ll get Jayde’s attention at some point, convince him to help with the windshield break,” he said. Looking over to where Kaylie was, he called out, “Hey, Kaylie, mind getting Jayde over here to look at their windshield?”
Kaylie gave a chrome thumbs-up, then sent Jayde their way.
Jayde took a look at the broken window, then said, “Fixed one of these last year after someone ran through a bit of wildlife about Kasiya’s size. Should be easier here, I’ve got more to work with.” He took a look around, then added, “Provided you want me to try this, at least. I have a few… talents.”
Narrowing his eyes to take a look at the windshield, Alauran goes on and decides.
“I don’t like freezing at the beginning and I don’t think any of you do either, so I suppose it will be quite good to get that patched up.”
TJ nods in agreement, slapping the Shitbox Rally sticker on the car in the process. Jas’s too busy figuring out why the cassette deck isn’t working properly with a new computer to agree or disagree, and so Alauran just gives a thumbs up and a smile in place of the third nod.
Jayde nodded, then fumbled around with his cane and his bag for a moment, before pulling his old staff out of the bag, despite there being no way it’d fit normally. He then picked up a mortar and pestle, set that on the hood of the Itan, pulled out a bottle of still-frosty orange soda, pried the metal cap from the glass bottle, and chugged the contents, before breaking the now-empty bottle into the bowl, crushing the glass into powder, and, with a slight smile, applied a bit of magic.
For the briefest moment, Jayde was holding a bowl full of molten glass. Then, an instant later, there were red streaks in the Itan’s windshield, slowly cooling to a clean and whole windshield.
Jayde gave a light smile and said, “Now you know why I’m one of our team’s “Repair Specialists.” Try to keep that a little bit of a secret. I’m not supposed to “scare the normies,” as Kaylie would say.”
While they had known that there would be some sort of unnatural occurrence, considering the rift, seeing it performed in front of their own eyes made it sink in a lot more.
“Okayyy-” TJ tries to say more, but the whole magic part hadn’t actually gone to his brain to make it work for once. Contrary to TJ, Alauran just looks at Jayde, a thousand thoughts whirring in his head as it finally gets to his head that maybe the sudden transference of planets was real instead of a collective dream…
“Well, of course. We will.” Jas, who had finished whatever he was doing with the cassette deck, walks up to the now not-broken windshield of the ute. “Guh- wasn’t there a hole in that a minute ago?”
Alauran gets a big smile on his face.
“No? It was always like that.”
Jas spends a second pondering whether his whole life was a lie and he’d spent the years of his life in the Matrix, before uttering, “Okay. I serio-”
“Shhhh…” Alauran interrupts him and shoos him off to the frankencar.
Jayde smirked and dropped his supplies back into his bag, chuckling quietly as he wandered back over to the rest of his team, with Malavera slowly returning to his laptop, resuming his game as virtual rally cars once again hurtled into the digital tree-line.
Kasiya walked over to Robert II and crouched down, carefully knocking on the door before saying, “Sorry to bother you, Valentin, but, we have a team over there, “Sinesian Rejects,” who need power.”
Valentin was sat within the deeply recessed bucket seat of Robert II, now actually wearing a new button-up that he fetched from his suitcase a while earlier. He was shuffling through some sheets of paper, occasionally going to his phone when Kasiya gently knocked against the driver door. Despite the attempt at being gentle with it, Valentin very much was startled at the sudden distraction, jolting within the seat and almost dropping his phone into the abyss underneath. “Uh hello…” Valentin mutters, before he looks up the respective information for the Sinesian Rejects on his phone, where he kept track of anything relevant to power generation and distribution. “Right. One plug for them… if they need it now , they can come and get the equipment and such. Ideally, I would distribute that to everyone in the evening when all participants are actually present.”
Kasiya nodded. “I can understand that. I’ll be over by the trucks if you need me. Sorry for the startle,” Kasiya replied.
Meanwhile, TJ, Alauran and Jas go back to sitting in the Imbe, passing time making some ‘music’ and talking.
Bonus: The bet
March 30, 2023
“I hate you Jas-” Alauran mutters, cradling a hand full of sand.
“You’re welcome.”
Alauran throws the sand in to his face, mouth open, before hacking and coughing, trying his best to rid himself of the mouthful as fast as he can.
“Grah…” - He throws a punch at Jas, who is promptly knocked out, falling down in to a clump of bushes.
Ianis, watching the ordeal from the corner, chuckles, before going back to reading a newspaper.
(OOC: This part is bonus here, since “Who starts a conversation story post like that? I just sat down!”)
