NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC/sign-up is here: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=476165
IC:
Mike Kowalski, war hero and former President, was piddling in his garage. His sucessor John Smith was a total fool, thinking you could negotiate with hostile nuclear powers when you had the upper-hand. Back in his day, Mike would have launched the Blood Rangers to destroy their nuclear forces and classify it for a hundred years. The Silver Sub was before him, and he was repairing the liquid-fueled rocket along with his son while he was on leave. Captain James Kowalski was one of those few men called "Blood Rangers" and could strike fear into the hearts of even Idorians. With the rocket replaced, Mike re-mounted it and James warmed up the glows. Within a few minutes, the old submarine engine roared to life making the exhaust sound as if a demon and a bumblebee had children. James killed the engine and Mike said, "Ok, she's ready to go. Now we need to keep it warm in certain places and times, you have any ideas?"

"Yeah, the glow program Hoot made wouldwork fine for this."

"Oh that's right. He made that after the last run......oh, I need to tell your mother about this....................................." Mike said, swearing at his being stupid and forgetting. He then went to his wife of four years, grabbed her about the waist and said, "Honey. Remember our First Anniversary?"

"She looked up at him and went "Umhum."

"I got to thinking, it'd be really cool to have Hoot and the rest over for a while...maybe show them what we can do as hosts here in CM?" he said playfully, their infants asleep ten yards away.

"So let me get this straight, you want us to host another cross-country cannonball run here in CM, while we have INFANTS?!?!" Lauren screamed at him.

"Well, James said he would help no matter what. He's in the garage now working on the sub, probably talking to Hoot over the phone. I mean, he's on his leave and he says there's a big deployment ahead." Lauren looked stunned at this last one. Mike had adopted James and the others two years before they had gotten married and knew when Mike said a big deployment he meant anoter war James would have to fight. While not terrible fond of the military when she married Mike, she came to respect those who had rescued her and fought for her ability to live free.

"Fine, but only because of the deployment." Lauren said with much hesitation which Mike noted talking to his friend the Police Comissioner for the Country, an avid street racer himself, making sure they would not be stopped too harshly.

Ya scared to death and scared to look
Ya shook
Cuz there aint no such thing as half way crooks

Robert had never been a huge fan of rap. Most Imitoran Hip Hop was of the "Bitches and Hoes" varient, with little in the way of hooks or lines or subtances, mostly bragging about bank accounts and the size of the chrome spinner wheels on the rappers Mercedes Benz.

However, Mobb Deep's Shook One's Pt. II had always appealed to him. It was much like street racing. There were no posers, no wanna be's. Those that were fake were quickly isolated, and pushed aside, or they stepped up to the plate, and found out how exactly to play ball. That was the way it had always been in Imitora. Either you played ball with the big dogs, or you went home before curfew, playing with your toy cars with your high school friends. Thats the way Fortier had wanted it run, and seeing as he was, without a doubt, the fastest man in Imitora, he all but ran the street racing sceene. Of course, being one of the richest men in the nation, and best friends with the President also helped.

Ever since highschool, Fortier had been into racing. Throughout his life, his military carrer, time has First Speaker, and working with the INSA, he had managed to stay active in the Imitoran automotive world. Even durring the revolution, he had managed to find time to keep up his driving skills. And now, he was considered one of the best. He had out run police in just about every nation he had visited, in everything from high end "pasta rockets" to a rented Ford Mondeo. He didn't have the largest garage in Imitora, but he had what was considered the most complete. In the air conditioned and climate controlled hanger sitting no more than a hundred yards away from his own home, a complete shop existed. Three lifts, all the tools one would need, computers, and two dynos allowed him to work on his own collection.

He was also the Primary Investor, CEO, and one of the only two mechanics that were Black Owl Customs Motorsports. He and his closest friend President Thomas "Hoot" Gibbson owned, advertised, and worked on every single order that came into the custom multibrand tunning house. Neither had taken any buisness classes beyond base economics, and both worked only on reputation alone, but Black Owl Customs was one of the most succesful non military industries in Imitora.

This success didn't come from being blind. Fortier had noticed the number of orders for special cars had increased, he had just sent off a BNR34 Skyline, and currently on the table was a Ford GT, and a little known car refered to as the Vector W8. The forums were all alive with chatter, and everything from DTM Power to SRT Freaks were alive with updates on project cars, and claims of new horsepower numbers. Fortier also had a close relation with scores of aftermarket manufactureres, and noticed the upward rise in sudden quick fix orders, and massive part demands asked to be delivered ASAP. It took little reasearch to find out something big, something real big, was going down. It took him four phone calls to find out the deal.

An old shop worker, and freind, Lauren Lutz, now Kowalski, had told him first hand of what was going on. Another cross country rally in the spirit of the first Cannonball Run, was being held, this time in her new home nation of Crazed Marines. Robert had smiled when he hung up the phone. Another opportunity to find police, and run for them, and show some people his tail lights. There were few cars, if any, that could hold with Fortier. Sure, a number of them had more power, better gearing, and were lighter, but Fortier had a God given tallent to drive, and could make any car he touched faster.

It was seven hours later when Hoot arrived, ready to unwind after a long week of running the nation. To him, unwinding was sitting with his head under the hood of a nice muscle car, new or old, with a beer and some good music. Thats why he and Fortier got along well. Despite a freindly rivalry to see who could go faster first, and disagreements over the best way to make power, the two could talk shop, listen to music, and just relax around each other. That, and Fortier's wife had a number of single friends that Hoot had eyes for. Women were always a plus.

"So," Hoot asked, looking over the Vector, "what do ya think?"

"Tee oh fours. And theres gonna be another race. In Crazed Marines. You going?"

Hoot eyed the futuristic looking car. "Lower compression." He paused, thinking over the obvious question. He wanted to go, he really did. He had just finished his pet project, a 2006 Corvette Z06 with custom built four hundred and fifty four cubic inch LS7 based V8. The car was a ripper, putting down just under 800 ponies at the rear wheels, and screaming down the quarter mile strip, sans traction, at just under 10.3 seconds. It was legitimately fast. But he had other obligations now. He couldn't be out playing with the boys every weekend, ripping down open highways. He had to give up that life in order to lead the Imitoran people.

"Nah man, I think I gotta sit this one out. Besides, you and Mary got an aniversary comming up. Why not use this as a second honneymoon, eh?" he asked, nudging Fortier's shoulder. The other man chuckled, nodding.

"Yeah, I feel ya there."

"So, what ya gonna run in?"

Robert had what some would consider a small garage, but he liked to think of it has complete. He had a number of choices for the race, a stable of true thoroughbreds. It started off with a Victory Red Ferrari Enzo, number 179, and was followed by a FD3S RX-7, a 2002 Pontiac Trans Am Firehawk, a BMW M3, a Toyota Supra, an Audi S8, and came to a close with a 1970 Datsun 240Z. He eyed the cars behind him, each with their own positives and negatives. "The Shadow," he said quietly.

Shadow, the project name for a heavily modified Mazda RX-7, was the only car in the garage that Robert feared. Well, it wasn't as much a fear as it was a pure respect for what the car could do. While no where near as powerful as it could have been, as a simple turbo swap and retune would put the car above the one thousand horsepower mark, it was the fact that the car tipped the scales at less than three thousand pounds that made it amazing. Lightweight parts allowed the car to retain drivability and comfort, while shedding unneeded pounds. He nodded as if afirming his own decision, and looked back at Hoot.

"Well," he started, the decision being made and the plans set for him, "lets get to work. I need to build the compitition," he chuckled.

Five days later, a rented C130 was landing in Crazed Marines. Fortier's car rolled slowly down the cargo ramp, the dark tint hiding Robert and Mary. The bags were in the trunk, they had packed very light, and Robert had loaded a custom fuel map that would allow him to adjust for the availability of fuels in Crazed Marines. He checked a GPS unit, compared it to his trusty MapQuest, and headed off in the direction of the gate where the racers were to meet.

"He did a beautiful job, as usual" Her Royal Highness remarked wistfully as she walked around the Vector.

"Want to take her for a test spin Mercy?" Sinjin offered, noting the tone in her voice. He knew she didn't get to drive much any more. The rumors said that Her Majesty had a number of not- so- quiet fits about her heir's love of high performance vehicles.

"No, the type of test drive I give the Bad Karma here, would turn Holli's hair white and she'd just redouble her efforts to get me married off." HRH Mercedez Merideath Hexx confirmed the rumors as she sighed and shook her head.

Sinjin cocked an eyebrow at her, but didn't press further. He'd known Mercy for many years, they'd both been integral parts of the 'evolution with in a revolution' a military coupe that had saved the country and turned it into a monarchy. She'd ended up as HRH and he'd taken wounds that 'officially' ended his career as one of Tanaara's finest counter terror operatives. Like her he wore, with quiet pride, the signet ring of black titanium set with Life Diamonds in blue and yellow. One for each friend lost, one for each foe he had taken down.

Mercy stepped back and gave the Vector a lingering look over then turned to go, her bodyguards falling in around her. Sinjin bowed, untill she gave him a fulminating look. He grinned cheekily at her as she rolled her eyes. "Good hunting, and have fun." Mercy left him to his final packing, knowing that the inescapable retinue that accompanied her made getting the 'fiddley bits' taken care of nearly impossible.

Shortly he was ready and waiting, the small amount of luggage the Vector could hold carefully packed. The Antonov An-225 that was Mercy's personal vehicle hauler was waiting at the nearest air field. However before he could get impatient, Khadri arrived in the cloud of dust that no amount of detailing could seemingly remove from her battered jeep. He ran out to meet her, and whirled her around as she swung the door closed. "Mi corazon! I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it!"

"What miss a chance to have fun with you? Nevah!" Khadri laughed and kissed him passionately. Some minutes later they grinned at one another and broke the embrace.

An hour later the Bad Karma was being carefully tied down by the Anatov's load master. The huge cargo plane, the largest in the world, wore not only the livery of the Tanaaran AirForce, but was badged with the sigil of HRH Mercedez. Soon they were soaring into deep blue skies.

It wasn't that many hours later that the cargo plane alit with grace at seeming odds for its giant size, and taxied to the assigned hanger at the Chesty Puller Memorial Airport.

Bad Karma rolled carefully down the ramp, as Sinjin and Khadri waved to the crew, promising to check in frequently. Khadri brought up the web on the wide screen lap top and configured the GPS while Sinjin headed the supercar to the designated check in gate.

"I wonder who's the Mazda RX-7's is?" Sinjin mused as he noticed the only other arrival at the gate.

"Well, go find out." Khadri rolled her eyes, as she let the gull wing door open. Stepping out she stretched and did a few loosening up exercized. The Anatov was not a passenger plane by any stretch of the imagination, human 'cargo' was an after thought.

Mike and James, who in his racing persona was called "Reckless" for obvious reasons such as playing chicken with an 18-wheeler going 225 on the wrong side of the road, drove up in the Sub.

"ROB!" Mike called out as his friend emerged from an RX-7. "It has been too long!"

"You're telling me? How's Lauren?"

"Well, we got two of our own now. One each. I swear...you've never been to CM before, right? I mean the boy looks like you when you grin...just like THAT!" Mike joked before hugging his friend in a masculine way showing it was all in good fun. Then he slapped a sticker on the back windshield of the Mazda.

"WHAT THE HELL MIKE?!" Fortier screamed. Touching another man's car is as big a no-no as screwing his wife. Mike then produced a plate.

"Look, you're gonna need that. Also put this plate on. I registered all the cars on the run as special undercover units with the CM Feds, and that took one helluva favor believe you-me. You'll also need that sticker and a valid ID, but the plate should be enough no passing cop will pursue you once they run the plate." Mike siad, hoping the line on the other side of his conversation wasn't tapped.

"Oh...so we pose as cops to keep away from the cops?" Robert asked, a little confused.

"No, we make the cops think we're cops responding to a call or infiltrating the illegal racing scene....you do know one of my exec orders in power was to make certain racing legal, but you had to give warning time and have cops as the refs and mark things off."

"Yeah, I told him.....he's still not sure what to say about that..." Reckless said entering the conversation. "Hey Rob, I'm thinking about driving the Sub if dad runs the whole show. You ever been for a ride in this beast? I mean after the jailbreak..."

OOC: CM-> Hoot isn't racing, thats RObert Fortier. Hoot is stayin in Imitora for this one. Also, Fortier doesn't know Mike all that well, hell, he hardly knew Lauren beyond the fact that she worked for him and knew what she was doing.

The massive TK-17GE Kurisika landed in Crazed Marines. Everyone on the ground could only stand and stare at the massive sky blue rotor-transport. Before the blades had even stopped, everyone could hear the massive engine in the '71 Demon. Slowly the bay doors lowered and the "Purple People Eater" rolled down the ramp and pulled to a stop. The whole car seemed to vibrate in rythym with the 6.1 Hemi.

Storm shut off the engine. Amoment or two passed before the doors opened and the two people inside emerged. Storm was a massive man, standing 6'8 and weighing in the neighborhood of 300 lbas. His companion, Marie, was substantially shorter at just 5'5 with long brown hair. Storm looked to Marie. "So this is where we are supposed to beat some people that think they have cars?"

"That's what the entry form and map say." Marie didnt seem quite so sure.

"Yeah. Let's find out where to go next."

Before Sinjin could decide to interupt the ongoing reunion at the RX-7, he cocked an eye skyward and watched as the giant sky crane deposited a violently aubergine painted muscle car on to the tarmack.

Both eye brows went up when the driver got up, and up and up, nearly a foot taller than himself, and almost double Sinjin's weight. "Talk about needing the muscle, he doesn't need any weight plates, he's his own." he said in a soft voice to Khadri. A quick kiss on the back of her hand and the pair were striding hand in hand over to the new arrivals.

"Hi, I'm Sinjin and this is my lady, Khadri, we're out of Tanaara and just arrived ourselves. " The Tanaaran bowed gallantly to the brunette haired lady and held out a friendly hand to the Demon's massive driver.

OOC: CM-> Hoot isn't racing, thats RObert Fortier. Hoot is stayin in Imitora for this one. Also, Fortier doesn't know Mike all that well, hell, he hardly knew Lauren beyond the fact that she worked for him and knew what she was doing.

OOC: Let's say that they met after the last race and Fortier and Mike worked a little after the jailbreak, mainly with Mike throwing some setup for Black Owl mainly in the way of making them more invisible to police radars. And don't worry, I'll fix it.

IC:

Mike gave Rob the location of his house for dinner that night and where to park his car in the driveway. He then went over to the Antonov 225 that just landed while Jim went over to the purple dodge. They both gave the people the same information, decal, and plate. Everyone would have a chance to talk tonight over dinner at the ranch.

Robert nodded, thanking Mike. As Mike and Reckless drove off, Mary stepped out of the FD, brushing a lock of her light brown hair away from her eyes. "Who was that?" she asked.

"Mike Kowalski. Friendly guy I guess, only worked with him a few times. Hes closer to Hoot than he is to me. Well, guess some types are freindlier like that. Maybe its because hes Polish."

"Excuse me, love, what do you think I am? French?"

"You're hot."

Mary sighed. She grinned and winked at Robert. "So, that the compitition?"

"Yeah, the purple car looks mean. Probably blown, sounds big displacment. Also big fuel consumption. That black car, thats the one Hoot and I were working on a few weeks back. Hard as hell, the flanges for the turbos were some ass odd size, and we couldn't get the A/R to run right. Took us forever. Should be seeing an R34 around here too."

He tossed the plate in the back of the FD, and then eyed the sticker, and shrugged. Cops wont be getting close enough to me to even run the plate or sticker, but I guess it works. "What dya say we go check them out. Get to know the neighbors, so to speak?" he asked, sliding back into the driver's seat of the Mazda. He pressed in the clutch, and keyed the car, the small rotary motor turning over loudly. He slowly rolled over to the other cars, and killed the motor, stepping out.

He eyed the Demon, then the Vector. "Nice rides," he said, not to either inparticular.

"Glad you like the ride. She is mean." Storm grinned and stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet ya. I'm Storm and this lovely lady is my wife, Marie. She built the car, I just drive it."

Storm grinned and looked at the other cars. Nice variety here - They would be tough to beat. But he would take his chance with cubic inches over the smaller engines any day, the Vector though would have a stud engine as well. Besides, he would never fit into one of those Crackerjack boxes.

"So." he said to anyone. "Whens the party gonna start?"

Mike glanced back at Fortier and the others, "Follow me home. We're gonna have some good vittles before we check out the normal racers and get it going tomorrow around eleven in the morning." He then stepped into the passenger side as James took off, the diesel engine starting up instantly thanks to the new glow program. Mike grabbed his cell.

"Lauren, its Mike. We're on the way home with some company following. Do you mind starting the BBQ for me. I'll grab the beer on the way home." Mike started, waited a little, "Yeah, Honey-glazed BBQ chicken sounds nice. The coal's in the grill drum already. James is stopping for booze now. I figure about five six-packs of MarineBier should do with what we have already, that is if we still have that stash of Jack Daniels behind the fridge."

This last one got James' attention as he entered the market, buying the booze, a spare keg, and quite a bunch of cokes. This would be a helluva race, especially given all the competitors were going to eat together and sleep under the same roof the night before. They finished up at the market and got home to start dinner just on que.

Robert shook Storm's hand, giving it a firm, but not hard, grip. The show of strength contests, in Fortier's opinion, were imature ways for the insecure to try and show off. That, and he knew he would loose this one. "She's nice, I like the color. Always been a fan of cars with a blue or purple base. I was thinking about going with Daytona purple before settling on BASF Pearl Blue with some blue flake. Still, yours is pretty nice. Sounds mean too. Name's Robert, but you can just call me Rob."

Follow me home. We're gonna have some good vittles before we check out the normal racers and get it going tomorrow around eleven in the morning.

Fortier was about to go talk with the Tanarans when Mike called out. He wanted to get a look to see how the final produt of his works on the Vector turned out, but that would have to wait. Of course, with the plans he had for tonight, he might get the chance after all. He watched as the silver sub took off, and shook his head. "Diesel?" he asked out loud to no one in particular.

He shrugged, and slid into the FD, and gunned up the engine. A street ported rotary motor was loud, but this one was monsterous. The J style Bridge port sounded like a down tuned, very angry Formula 1 Race car that had hooked up with a steriod induced SCCA motor, and given birth to some creature of pure rage. He gave it a quick rev, the motor quickly screaming up to its 9500rpm redline, and then letting out a sharp hiss as the air vented from the closed throttle through a TiAL blow off valve. There was a loud crack as the motor slowed its spin, and anyone behind the car would have seen a burst of blue flame from the exhaust pipe. The idle was loud, the rev was loud, the turbo was loud. The car was just loud.

Fortier waved to the one called Storm, and the two Tanarans he had yet to meet, and put the car into gear. He let it roll slowly as he let off the clutch, and at five miles per hour, he slammed down on the gas, the rear tires spinning hard, the tail starting to slide out sideways, and the car leaped forward, spinning the rear tires all the way through first gear, and long into second. The turbo whistled loudly, all but drowing out the exhaust in a shared note with the ported motor. Fortier wound out second gear, the shifted softly into third, following Mike in the modified Lotus.

"Diesel?"

That brought a very gallic shrug from Sinjin as he gave the RX a appreciative glance before turning back to the Vector.

He didn't get a chance to introduce himself and Khadri to Rob and Mary before they all headed out to Mike Kowalski's place. He knew Robert Fortier on sight, though they had never met, the gentleman having a discrete but avid near cult following in Tanaara.

"Saddle up" He grinned at Khadri as the others returned to their vehicles.

Soon they were last in line, a position that bothered Sinjin not at all, for the moment.

Mike and the group reached the house where Lauren already had the everything but the main course ready (see The Fast and the Furious for this) out back on the pick-nic table. Mike and James saddled up and started finishing up the chicken.

"Go ahead and get some stuff in your system, the chicken'll be done in five, ten minutes max." Mike said as all his guests entered, having parked inside his enormous garage and seen his other cars and the little bird helicopter he was restoring.

Lauren then gathered up all the children and they sat as well, each grabbing a non-alcoholic beverage of their choice (mainly Coke or Tea) and they were ready when Mike brought out the boneless chicken, fuel for the conversation ahead.

Robert eyed the cars in the garrage, taking note of those that seemed interesting. However, he was more concerned about his plans for later that night, and the plans that would take place after those plans, and how the rest of the house would react. He squeezed Mary's hand, and followed the group out to the pic-nic area.

He sat, and pulled out a Bass Ale from a six pack he had grabbed at the store. He popped the top, and took a pull from the cold beer, eyeing the food. "Looks good," he said, looking around the table. He was tired from the flight, and would let others ask questions about the Shadow first, not offering anything up for grabs. He looked over at Sinjin, and offered a hand.

"Robert Fortier. Don't think we got a real chance to meet at the airport. I gotta ask how the Vector is treating you, those turbos were a bitch to fit. Tight engine bay back there, and I didn't want to put a rod through the block with too much boost."

"Robert Fortier. Don't think we got a real chance to meet at the airport. I gotta ask how the Vector is treating you, those turbos were a bitch to fit. Tight engine bay back there, and I didn't want to put a rod through the block with too much boost."

He shook Robert's hand briskly without any 'push' behind it. He had no security problems. "Sinjin Kincannon, and this is Khadri Van Maartin, light of my life." He laid a light kiss on her temple. She had laid her head on his shoulder and just about drifted off to sleep.

"Bad Karma runs like a dream, you did a flat out spectacular job on her. That RX-7 of yours sounds like it's royally pissed. I haven't looked at a rotary modded for racing before. Not many in Tanaara. What sort of horsepower are you getting at the wheels?" He asked as he piled some chicken on Khadri's plate and got her to open her eyes and begin nibbling at the bbq.

"Bad Karma. Fittin name for that one. A coupla wings and that bitch would fly." Storm walked over to reintroduce himself. Marie prefered to hang back a bit double checking the quality of the chefs at the grill. "And pissed isnt what I would say about the RX. Crazy mad comes to mind, though." The big man sat down to enjoy his glass of grape juice. He never drinks before business.

Marie easily plopped down on his lap. They can cook - sort of anyway." She smiled as she said that and her eyes seemed to light up. "I havent ever seen a rotary tricked out for racing either. How's it run?"

Both Storm and Marie seemed to like this group of people. Sinjin and Khadri were really nice. Robert and Mary were as laid back as they come for the moment. Mike was another story. Not sure what to think of him just yet.

"I'll go fix us a plate, or two." Marie kissed Strom on the forehead and laughed. "Two for you that is, big guy." She headed for the food."

"Well now. What to do now."

"Well, for a rotary, damned good!" Robert laughed. Mary simply sipped at a glass of red wine, soaking up the conversation. She had never really been into cars or racing, she just knew that some looked pretty. And she had said that about all the cars she had seen so far. She made a mental note to get to know the other girls, maybe learn more off them. Whenever Robert tried to explain cars to her, he had gone into "Car Speak", and she would have had a better time learning ancient Greek.

"My first foray into rotaries was reading about the Mazda 787B, won the LeMans a while back. So damned effective, they had to ban rotary engines. So, I picked up a rolling frame FD, swapped in the hotest periphrial port three rotor I could find, and slapped on the biggest turbo. Took about two hours before I put an apex seal into low earth orbit. I've gotten a bit more conservative with my tuning. The key is the ability to rev those things." He turned to Storm. "That 13B I got in it right now will fly up to red line just as fast as that purple Demon will get to sixty."

He took another long pull on the beer, and glanced over at the grill. He hadn't gotten a chance to know Sinjin yet, but anyone who complimented his work was ok by far. Storm seemed to be the kinda of guy Fortier would get along with great. "Now, shes not as fast down the track as my Firehawk, and can't quite pull up top like the Supra, but she's well rounded, thats what I was going for."

He stood and excused himself, noticing Sinjin walking over to the grill, and joined him. "She's putting down decent numbers at the wheels, somewhere in the high seven hundred range. She pulls hard from a roll, the boost and gearing profile don't like to go from a dig. Neither do the stock rear axles." He grabbed a chicken brest for Mary and himself, and put on an extra serving of barbeque sauce.

"I'm glad Bad Karma is running good. I really am. I was kinda worried for a bit, it was an interesting set up under that hood, and the gear box, well, shit. Last three speed I saw was in a car that had less than a hundred ponies at the crank. I wanted it to run right, I mean, I enjoy knowing all the cars Hoot and I put out are good specimens, but I like to make sure my Tanaaran customers are especially happy."

Back at the table, Mary realised she hadn't said much in the way of conversation. She spoke up in a moment of silence, introducing herself formally. "I know Rob's already said this," she said to the whole table, "but my name's Mary, I'm his wife. Been married for close to three years now. I hope I don't seem distant, just most of this car stuff confuses me. I get the basics, but once you go past that, well, woosh," she said, moving her hand over her head like a plane flying over.

"But I can tell you that other than the Bad Karma, he made another car for this, a Skyline. It looked pretty mean too."

He turned to Storm. "That 13B I got in it right now will fly up to red line just as fast as that purple Demon will get to sixty."


I know. That's the bad side of things." Storm looked over at Robert. "But the Demon will compete. Not saying I can take ya every time, but she'll take her share. My main concern is ease in workin on the thing - and comfort for my big ass behind the wheel. No legroom in your car. I can say one thing though, that engine I run with will last damn near forever compared with what ya got. I ain't got the cash to be workin on the damn thing all the time."

"This should all be big fun. Nothin I like more than fast cars except drivin them." He turned to Mary. " Now why would anyone in their right mind want a Skyline. Spend too much time with 'em broke down. Can't win if ya can't run. Besides the entire brake system on the thing is completely shoddy."

Marie came back with the plates. "Shush Honey. I think they can all figure out you like the old cars better." To Mary she said "3 years. Congrats. When you hit 11 years like us you'll be ready to shoot him half the time, or just love him more. 50/50 shot on that one."

OOC - I am ASMV's RL wife. Hope you don't mind if I get some of the RPs

James eased himself over to the table, his leather racing jacket with "Reckless" painted on the back along with his campaign and kill tallies. He opened, "The rotary's ok, but they don't last too long because Aluminum wears too easily. I prefer cold steel myself....but then again, I'm the only one running Diesel during this race, so what's odd in my opinion might not count all that much." He then toop a sip of his friend Jack and let the conversation take its course as he started on some glazed chicken fingers.

"Ya know, the rotary will last just as long as any other motor if you take care of it. I've seen plenty of examples pushing over a hundred thousand miles on the clock. And I've never herad that many problems about the RB series of motors, hell, they are almost as good as a 2JZ out of a Supra. How could you not like the 2JZ? Capable of more than eight hundred at the wheels on the stock interntals. I mean, those are beatly motors."

Robert would be the first to admit any car's weakness, and most of his work was done to eliminate the weakness. He knew first hand of the power of the older, and even newer, American motors. Hell, he himself had a low ten second Trans Am, and a Corvette and older model Challenger sitting on the drawing board. He just prefered the finese present in the imports. That, and he had a soft spot for the ability to produce twice the horsepower, with half the size.

"To each his own," he said, taking another bite of the chicken.

but I like to make sure my Tanaaran customers are especially happy."


"And it's appreciated greatly." Sinjin replied. "I want to talk to you later" and there was an implied 'privately' added on "about a very special commission."

"3 years. Congrats. When you hit 11 years like us you'll be ready to shoot him half the time, or just love him more. 50/50 shot on that one."


"Congrats on the three and the eleven" Khadri smiled at Mary and Marie. "I get lost in most car talk myself." She woke up the more she ate, but had to hide a yawn. "Oh that plane flight was nothing to comment on, could have put an entire film crew in there."

Back with a plate of chicken for himself, Sinjin caught the last comment and laughed. "We almost did, Razor wanted to get some footage for later." He sipped at his tea. He was tired to but he hoped for a chance to drive later on this night and didn't want to do it buzzed. "I'm not really more than a amateur racer" He explained "I do stunt work for films and teach an anti hijacking course or two now and then."

"But you happen to be a utterly Tanaaran male, and have this incredible 'need for speed' you loon." Khadri stole a bite of his chicken.

"Only when it comes to cars, speedboats, planes, and horses, my lady. I don't do everything at fast forward, much to your pleasure." He teased back softly as he slid his arm about her waist and she snuggled against him with a grin.

James just smiled along with the quip, "Hey, she may be diesel but damn if she can't crank over a K-aee horses." His Southern dialect now showing with his saying the letter K, "And then we have a few suprises installed as well. You get that Radar package my dad sent you, Rob? He says it should take care of dopplar pretty well."

Storm sat there and quietly ate his chicken. The days ahead would be interesting at the very least. he knew the Demon could hold its own with the other cars here. Most of that though depended on exactly what they would be doing. And that questoin had not been answered yet.

Time and time again he had been challenged by kids driving the import style cars and time after time he had put them in their place. But those were kids playing at being race drivers. Those cars didn't pack the punch that the current competition seemed to have. He was anxious to get things moving and find out.

They would all of course defend the abilities of their own cars - any driver worth anything would. The RX worried him a bit. Not because of the engine. He knew the Demon could match that for the most part. it was the fact that the car weighed half of what the Demon did. That point was impossible to overlook. He chuckled to himself. They would all see the Demon's power when he put its nose up in the air. He wondered if the rotary would lift a car that weighed just over 4500lbs like that. Thank God for wheelie bars.

Marie sat there quietly. She felt as if she almost didnt belong. The guys would be jockeying to see who was top dog and neither Mary nor Khadri knew anything about cars. She also wondered just how many times she would have to fix the Demon to stay in this thing before it was over. Storm was useless under the hood. At least he was a great driver....and more.

Mike arrived at the table by now, sipping a beer. He ate his share and swapped BS stories with everyone else and then killed the conversation by saying, "So, let's get the terrain down before the big run. Follow me and we'll race tonight." Everyone shot up to start their cars, as did James while Mike and Lauren folded up the tablecloth on the disposable plates and threw the whole kit in the trash as he joined his son in the car--driving might I add as he had only one beer that night. They all then headed down by the main strip inside the subsection of Nashville in PI. Police presence here was nil and they all stopped around the GEC, a crowd already formed and everyone was ready to race.

I want to talk to you later

"No prob. You'll know where to find me."

The rest of dinner went off without a hitch, with the guys talking shop and girls talking about whatever it was girls spoke about. Fortier watched as the others went for their cars with Mike's call, but he remained sitting at the table. "Man, ya'll have fun with that. I got stuff I need to take care of." He stood slowly, stretching out as he did, popping his neck.

"Hey hun, the lap top still in the car?" he asked Mary, looking towards the house, the FD sitting on the other side. If he had come here to do quarter mile runs with a bunch of locals who thought they knew what fast was, he would have shown up with the Firehawk, and if he wanted to throw out bragging numbers, then he would have brought the Supra, which was making four digit numbers in both wheel horsepowed and torque. But no, he was here to do a long distance raly style race. It wasn't about sixty foot times or 0-100 numbers, no. This was about holding that two hundred plus mile per hour top speed for as long as possible.

"Yeah, still in the trunk. Gonna need some help?"

"If your offering, yeah."

Mary smiled. She knew little about cars, and even less about the tuning aspect. It was for that reason that she always appricated it when Robert allowed her to help with the cars. She had helped with the lap top stuff a few times, and while she knew little what the numbers all meant, or what the red and blue lines represented, she knew the rutine, and was glad to help. "I'll be right out, need to go use the little girl's room first," she said, smiling.

By the time she made it to the front of the house, Robert had already popped the carbon fiber hood and had the lap top hooked up to the three ignition boxes. It was also plugged into a port on the firewall of the FD, and the boost controller had been unplugged from its port in the car, and was plugged into the lap top. The ported 13B motor was rumbling nicely as Robert uploaded the current map from the motor into the laptop.

"I checked a the gas station," he said, scratching his bare shoulder, his tshirt off and swung over his shoulder, "and they are running real nintey eight here. So we can play with the mapping a bit, do some changes. I'm just taking the 93 set up now."

Mary just nodded, admiring Robert's shirtless torso. The extense of tattoos and scars were almost artistic, a living canvass that continued to grow throughout life.

He unplugged the computer, and pulled his tshirt back on. He handed Mary the lap top and boost controller. "You know what to do," he said, smiling and closing the hood. By the time he made it to the driver's seat, she already had the computer and boost controller plugged into their ports in the car, and was running the mapping program.

He took the lap top, and opened a folder on the computer's desk top screen named "Maps". From there he searched for the "P" files, higlighted one titled "Personal" and punched in a password. The file opened, and he loaded the "FD" map into the mapping program, and handed it back to Mary. The computer hummed as it loaded the information, and within seconds, a digital speedometer and tacometer loaded on the screen below a white graph. The two digital read out, replicas of his own on the dash, were flanked by a number of boxes with green numbers. These would tell him boost pressure and temperature, fuel temperature and pressure, throttle position as a percentage, and true speed. He reved the car, and held the rev.

"Whats it say?"

"The needle on the screen is at three thousand rpm."

Fortier checked the needle on his dash, sitting cleanly at three thousand. "Excelent. I saw some good spots to do this, not to far from here. Ready?"

"Yup." The drive was short, with Fortier interupting the silence every few minutes, making sure the digital tachometer and speedometer were matched with the the one's on his dash.

"Ok, remeber how to do this?"

Mary nodded. "I hit 'R', and wait for the beep, then when stop accelerating, I hit 'E'."

"Yup."

"Ok. Ready? 1. 2. 3!"

On three the computer beeped, and Fortier, holding the car low in second at sixty, punched it. The motor roared as the tachometer needle sweeped towards redline, the rear of the car squriming hard under the power, trying to kick out. The interior of the car shook violently under the sudden implication of power, sorting itself out. Fortier held on the gas, shifting hard into third, the engins screaming, the blow off valve emitting a short, hard 'tfft' as the excess air was released. He held it as the tachometer screamed towards redline again, and shifted into fourth, the cacaphony of noise growing louder. At red line in fourth, he let off, the motor spooling down quickly. Mary hit the 'E' button.

He repeated the test twice more, once from sixty miles per hour in third and once from sixty in fourth. He then pulled over to the side of the highway, and took the lap top from Mary, and began typing furiously, moving teh small track ball around, clicking like a mad man. After five minutes, he handed the computer back to Mary, and smiled. "Hold on, this one might be fast."

He reached over, and clicked the right mouse button, and the computer beeped. He checked his mirrors for police or other cars on the empty stretch, and satisfied there were non, he blipped the throttle, listening carefully. Again satisfied, he pushed the stick into the first notch, holding the clutch, and reved the car up to five thousand rpm. He slipped out the clutch slowly, spinning the wheels as he accelerated up towards sixty. He slammed into second, the shift violent and hard, the noise deafaning outside the cabbin. Second came and went, quicker than before, and the shift was smoother, cleaner with less spin. He held down the throttle, screaming up through third, and soon it was gone as well. Fourth was gone equally as fast, and fifth lasted slightly longer.

This was the key. The turbo was at full spool, the near race ported motor screaming, the wheels spinning faster with every inch. The car seemed to settle finally, its nose not comming up with acceleration, but instead sinking down towards the road, the 99 Spec front bumper providing a perfect amount of down force. The needle climed towards redline, the motor howling, the turbo screaming. At redline in sixth, he let off, gravity and friction quickly taking over, slowing the car. He allowed the car to slow back to legal speeds, and looked over at Mary.

"Whats it say?" he asked, scanning for an off ramp. He found one, and moved towards it.

"Ok, in this order. 215, 812, 0, and 52%."

Fortier grinned widely, unable to hide is excitement. Two hundred and fifteen miles per hour, eight hundred and twelve horsepower, zero boost spikes, and 52% more effecient than the previous tune. "Perfect."

She smiled, feeling that she had helped, and Robert assured her that she had. Just under an hour later, the sun finally setting below the horizon, Fortier rolled up to spot that had seemed to attract a number of flashy cars. He found Mike, Storm, Sinjin, and the others, and directed the car over to the area where they were parked. He killed the lap top, and tossed it into the back space of the car.

"Sorry I'm late, had some stuff I needed to work on. So what's up here? Some players trying to run out?"

Sinjin had stepped out of the Vector whe Rob arrived and strolled over.

"Sorry I'm late, had some stuff I needed to work on. So what's up here? Some players trying to run out?"

"Nothing all that interesting." No Sinjin wasn't here, meaning, CM for this kid stuff. And to him it was. He taught CT driving for a living. That was interesting. And driving against some one known in more than a few countries to be a top CT driver himself was why he'd come. That an a chance to talk about HRH's birthday present on the sly with said person.

Khadri had watched the races with intermittent, indifferent attention. She enjoyed rally style races where she got to be a navigator. She had spent more of her time downlaoding the best las sat and gps nav maps she could scam off the the local nets and from the Tanaaran MilSats. Well Sinjin had entered the encrypted pass codes for the later, but the maps were awesomely detailed. She smiled as she began memorizing them.

Mike, glad everyone was here for this, called out to the sacrificial lambs.

"Ok, everybody listen up! We meet right here again at 11:15 AM. I am throwing a cross-country run and the first one to Iwo Jima wins fifty million USD tomorrow, beginning at 11:30 AM,. But the catch is you can't use any form of air or sea-travel and you can't be caught by the cops--period end of discussion. There's a good chance the cops will know, and the only way to get to he island is through the three tunnels or the two bridges so those may be blocked." Amidst the cheering, James looked at everyone in their group and whispered that "...these kids are gonna be the distraction while we make a run for it at 11." The group waited for five minutes before Mike made it to his car and they drove back to the house.
~~~~~~~
Mike walked into his Garage at 0600 hours and extracted the helicopter. The Little Bird was ready to fly, with a few new modifications. He preflighted it and gassed up the extra fuel tanks. He then checked his radios and made sure everyone also had a compatable, encrypted radio as well as CM band police scanners. He would start flying fifteen minutes before the beginning to provied an eye-in-the-sky for the racers.

Storm and Marie sat in their room untill the early morning pouring over maps of the area they would have to cover. The possible routes seemed to be endless and both of them did not have any desire to have to try and read the maps while on the road.

Using the kids as bait was a brilliant idea. The problem was that most of them would get rounded up very early. Still it would be a head start. Any help in the beginning would be useful.

The cops would be everywhere. That was a given at this point. it almost seemed that Mike had made sure of that one. But Storm had something in store for them. Tomorrow he would find out how they liked the surprise.

Now for the tough part. How the hell to get the Demon to compete against these cars. The Demon was too big to weave traffic and too dependent on top speed to take extremely minor roadways. The maps held the key. They just had to find it.

It was near 6 am when marie looked at Storm and smiled. "I think I've got it........."

Mike and James were checking a line connection to the Sub as well as what looked like a stick to the same line. Then the stick retracted and the entire car lifted up about six inches, and lowered itself down. They gave each other the tumbs up and James put on his racing gear as well as replacing his dad's MOH decal with his own. His was trimmed in black eaning a black ops he couldn't talk about, so the cops were likely to not stop him even doing 150...well the veterans at least. Mike preflighted the helicopter again and went in for Breakfast, omlettes with cheese, bacon, and ham. Perfect to go with his morning tea and biscuit plus cholesterol. everyone else was startign to wake and Mike laid out some maps on the table if they wanted another look over the terrain, including the police stations, checkpoints for the day, and the fast-response teams scattered across the country.

Once everyone had gathered for the morning meal, he started. "The trick is," Mike pointed out, "That there just isn't enough gas in one tank for anyone to cover the entire race without refueling. No mater how efficient, Robert, your engine or is how big the tank, James, you're gonna have to refuel at least three times. And you have to get everything covered, no cop can stop you ever, and even a confrontation at a gas station with the cops will get you DQ'd. Now I worked on y'al getting Diplo Immunity but that didn't work. My brother made it to where the military won't intervene because we're on a 'readyness exercise' over the whole nation. But look, these cops are mainly former military and if anyone gets seriously hurt, my inside guy will invalidate our plates just as fast as we got them and we're in for it then. Any questions?"

Sinjin just grinned at Rob and Storm as he dug into his breakfast, they had discussed this along with a few other things after returning back to Mikes. He'd make a call in a few moments and a interesting thing would occur after the encrypted call ended. A fuel truck would roll out of the Anatov and into the CM's network of roads. It carried a full load of C-16 and was direct communication, milencryption of course, with Sinjin and the Vector. They had never planned on useing local fuel in the highly tuned engine.

He had no plans on causeing any accidents. He worked too hard to prevent them. Now deliberate wrecks were another story entirely. Those he enjoyed.

OOC - Is there a map of CM? It would be helpful to get an idea of where we are starting from and where we are going. Not to mention anything in between.

IC-

Storm enjoyed the breakfast. Nothing like starting the day with a warm belly. Marie, as usual, had attached a coffee pot to her hand for the duration of the morning.

No mater how efficient, Robert, your engine or is how big the tank, James, you're gonna have to refuel at least three times

"So how long is this race? 24 - 36 hours?" to no one in partiucular.

Strom thought of the plan Marie had laid out just hours earlier. It would work. A bit of luck would be needed, but everyone else would need that as well.

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a318/stormgiantxxxl/71sdpl.jpg

OOC: A rough map http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v169/futureMARINE/cm.jpg

Mike looked at Storm and said, "Well, Iwo Jima is an island, of course, but the route to there is over 3000 miles away. 750 of it is over water on a four-lane highway bridge, but you also have HALO Island, a cicrular, volcanic island around halfway down to rest on and ditch cops. Don't get me wrong, this will be a rough run, but all these kids are bringing cameras and so are we. We'll all meet in Suribachi for your exfiltration via ship. That'll be safest since they'll be looking for us to leave in planes like we came. Just know the Richmond route is too heavily patrolled to be of any use for our purposes. You're free to go there, but it will totally suck going down it."

Bump - Easter is over :p

Oh. The map's too small to read. sorry

Bump - Easter is over :p

Oh. The map's too small to read. sorry
OOC: that's the problem with photobucket. I'll work on it just know the near center one with no roads to the South is Parris Island and the big island is Iwo Jima while the little one is HALO Island.

OOC: This looks like an interesting idea. Mind if I get involved?

OOC: This looks like an interesting idea. Mind if I get involved?

OOC: can you say noob. when it says "invite" it means to go to the ooc thread and ask such a question.

OOC: can you say noob.

(OOC: What a wonderful fucking attitude you have.)

OOC: I would have a better attitude if you had gone to the OOC thread which was posted in the first post and ask there. "Invite only" means DO NOT POST IN HERE UNLESS YOU ARE INVOLVED. here is the OOC thread, just like in the first post http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=476165

You can still join but please don't be a moronic n00b.

OOC:

One, I need a bigger map to work with.
Two, I'll be controlling Tanaaras characters for a short while till she gets back.
Three, I think Velkya should be allowed in, and its not his fault that the OOC thread is on like...page 3 or 4.
Four, post comming after class, I have a bunch of threads to post in, this is number two on the list.

ooc, jolt and my photo site's both being bitchs so I can't change it
IC: Lauren had just woken up as "the boys" were pouring over their maps. It wasn't often that she could sleep without the kids bothering her and today was one of them and these guys had to wake her up. Well, at least they would be leaving soon.

Robert woke early, the alarm on his phone signalling five am locally. He wasn't an early riser, but he had work to do. He ignored a shirt, and grogilly rolled out of the bed, moving carefully as not to wake Mary. He walked down through the house, and to the FD, popping the hood, and giving it one last good look over. While he would never admit it, far in the back of his mind, he was questioning taking the FD. While he would be the first to argue for the reliability and ease of use of the 13B, he knew as well as anyone that it would take cery little to overheat the motor and cause some major problems for the race. He had changed the oil the night before, and run a last minute diagnostic test, looking for any boost leaks, hose disconections, or the like.

He had also been alerted by Sinjin of the availability of a certain type of fuel that he would prefere to run on. In Imitora, a number of gas stations carried 100+octane, and a few even carried the infamous C16 Race Fuel. There was a tanker that would be following Sinjin loaded with the precious life blood of race cars, C16, and Robert had been informed that he would have access to it. He slid into the driver's seat of the FD, and turned the key far enough t get the electrical system on. He flipped through the menus on the APex'i SAFC, and loaded up a custom map designed for C16. He would have to drive carefully, the car would run lean on the 98 that was in the tank, but as soon as he could get the race gas in the car, it would be another story.

By the time he was done, the sun was slowly rising over the horrizon, and He stretched out, eyeing the car one last time. He closed the door and hood, and locked it, and went back to the room where he and Mary had slept. He pulled on a pair of jeans, well worn and beaten, covered with stains from oil, gas, transmission and differntial fluids, and other sploches that were somehow related to cars. He always raced in his work jeans, they were the pair that fit him best, and the most comfortable. He grabbed a Lucky Tshirt out of his bag, and pulled it on, and then slid his feet into a pair of Puma Rennbahn 50s. He stretched out, and grabbed his signature Oaklys, and the gently shook Mary.

"Rise and shine hun, its about time to get going."

When she was up, he headed downstairs, allowing her to shower and change, and waited for everyone else.

So all was set. Mike eyed everyone. The time was at hand, so he got in his chopper and started it up. Sand, grit, and other assorted crap was thrown around as the Little Bird took off. He headed off in the same direction as the route they took the night before. James left the house as well, warmed up the Sub, went back in and grabbed some bacon, a fried egg, and two slices of toast with his tea. He slapped that together and whistled to everyone as he started up his car.

"The time is nigh. Do y'all just want to stand there gawking or do you plan to race?" He then donned his "Reckless" peersona, shut the door, locked it and buckled up. The others were running to their cars by now and Reckless had already peeled out of the driveway by the time everyone else was ready.

Down Highway 3 he went, the others in hot pursuit.