Yuga watched a holoscreen showing Buckys vision as she installed the killswitch.
She leaned back into her chair and tapped her finger together slowly.
She didn't need to congratulate Bucky yet, seeing as she first needed to get out of the garage and the race had to be underway to know if their sabotage had succesfully gone unnoticed.
She activated the comms, "Chop shop, ready the vehicle."
...
Markus took in the scenary and the crowds roar as the race was announced.
It was quite the change for him, having spent most his life in the wilderness or small settlements.
He shifted suddenly as he saw three men going towards the garage.
Looking through the scope he could determine that it wasn't Briggs.
He opened the comms to contact Taylor and the VIP booth.
"Viceroy, crows nest, this fat rat. looks like we got a problem 'ere, the wrong cheese is in the trap"
((Sorry for not being too active. My work and studying for entrance exams is taking most of my time and energy. As captain I'll try to be as active as I can.))
Fr-... [I]Bubblegum [/I] checked the fuel gauge on Owen's car. A little bit of fuel was gone as they had to transport the car to it's garage.
Even though it was just a minuscule amount, every drop of fuel counts, and so he refueled the car until the tank was completely full.
as Owen prepared the car in conjunction with the pit crew, he sent a lengthy message to the team
[QUOTE]I suppose all of you know this already, but it takes more than just a driver to win a race. Every member here must accomplish its task, otherwise the race ends with some other sucker taking the trophy home. Each of us, from the fuel man, tire changers and jackman, to the engineers who finely tuned the car, need to cooperate with peak efficiency to bend the odds in our favor. As much as I long to win again, we all know who must not. As much as I hate to admit it, I can afford to lose today, but Jeb cannot afford to win. Do your jobs well, and let's bring this thing home.
- Owen[/QUOTE]
"Confirmed, Fat Rat." said Taylor, before glancing over at Mad. "Target isn't in his car. Its another racer." she said, before switching her comms to talk to everyone. "We've got a Pawn on our hands. Don't light the candle until the King is on his throne." she states.
She then switches comms over to where only Yuga could hear. "The King isn't on his throne. A Pawn is keeping it warm. Should we assume he was tipped off and act accordingly? Or continue with current op?" She didn't like this. Relaxed security, a strange note, and Briggs wasn't racing. Hopefully some scouting around in a bit will provide more enlightenment as to what's going on.
[B]....[/B]
Valkyrie stepped back from the racer, having done a once over to make sure the racer was in top shape. Everything was ready to go, it seemed. They just had to win this thing.
"Chameleon here. Can confirm. The King isn't on his throne, over." Bucky says through her internal comms. She makes her way back to her team's pit and finds a secluded corner where she can change her appearance again.
Maddox had a bad feeling. He trusted his gut and right now it told him to stay alert. Last time he had felt like this his convoy had been caught being centimeters away from triggering a roadside bomb.
"This is Wrench. Fat Rat, Firehead, do you see anything that looks out of place? Guards bunched up in a spot or private security protecting any odd-looking characters?"
He looked at Taylor. "Is it possible that Briggs have switched place with another driver who is on a mafia payroll?"
The crew searched the scene for a trap while Donatello continued his short speech about the race. In the VIP box, Yanim stood and walked up to the glass pane, squinting as she strained to pick out which of the pit crews belonged to her company.
"[You nervous?]" Rask asked after a moment.
"[This is what you referred to as administrating, correct? I don't enjoy any of this,]" she grumbled.
"[Trust them. They can handle it.]"
Down on the ground, men in dark trench coats began to enter the stands. Hariim was the first to notice them, but soon the entire ghost team was beginning to find them amongst the crowd. They didn't seem to be armed, but there was no way of knowing what was below those coats. Their purpose remained a mystery.
---
[I]Two rooms over...[/I]
"It's a nice view, isn't it?" asked the enforcer. A muffled groaning could be heard nearby. Behind him sat Briggs, chained to a luxurious chair and gagged. "Oh, my apologies," the enforcer said, removing the cloth for a moment so his company could speak.
"Stop stalling. I know why I'm here; I just want to know what it's gonna take to get me out of here." He was bruised, but not broken. His capture had been easy and for the time being, the Mafia had managed to convince his racing team that he had experienced some last minute health issues and checked into a hospital.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," the enforcer replied. "I just do what I'm told, and my orders are to keep you here until a friend of the family retrieves you. We prepared this room special for you. That security camera," he mused, pointing at a camera which had obviously been tampered with, "it shows nothing but an empty room. Nobody knows you're here but us. My superiors put a lot of work into keeping you here, and there's no chance that I'll be spoiling that."
"Bullshit," Briggs snapped, "everyone has a price."
"Everyone except me," the enforcer replied as he once again gagged his prisoner. "Now, why don't you watch the race. Maybe it will take your mind off things." The enforcer stood up and walked over to the communicator on the table and sat with it, quietly waiting for a connection to come in. Minutes later, a representative from Tri-Enterprises connected.
"Do you have him?" he enquired.
"Of course," the enforcer answered. "He's relatively unharmed, as well."
The representative took a deep breath, smiling with satisfaction as he leaned back in his chair. He was an older man, well adjusted to power politics and in no hurry to question the Mafia's efficiency. "Good. I'm glad we could show Yscom that this isn't their territory, and never will be. I hope that our Asset Protection services have been adequate payment."
"Not that it's my position to discuss the effectiveness of your company's assistance, but there's a rumor going around that an entire unit of AP men were slaughtered last night within a block of a gang raid on one of our hotels. I'd advise you to speak to the good men of the family to learn the details."
The representative seemed to fade to gray, rather slowly. "I understand. In any case, there will be a team coming by soon to pick up our friend, Mr. Briggs."
---
[B]Grand Prix Rules:[/B]
The race will be 120 laps. For each 10-lap section, a roll of 1-10 will be performed for Jeb Jackson's performance. Five will be subtracted from each roll, representing a gain or loss of up to 5 positions in the race. Jackson is positioned 30th on the starting grid.
At lap 60, Leo Farcau will attempt to cause a wreck. He and the Muramasa team will each roll a D10. If Farcau wins by greater than 5, he will wreck and take out Owen as well, ending the latter's race and moving Jeb Jackson up by an additional 5 places. If he wins by less than five, Jeb will benefit, but Owen will not be removed from the race. If he loses by greater than five, he will wreck and Owen will gain five places. Less than five, and he will wreck without consequence.
Owen is positioned at 50th, but, being the talented driver that he is, will automatically gain three positions per segment. There will be 4 pit stops during the race. Each pit crew member will roll a D10 during these stops for a potential of 40 points. This number is then divided by ten to determine an additional set of four gains.
Finally, if and when Owen and Jeb fall within 5 positions of each other during a segment, an overtake CH roll is performed in which Owen has a 3/5 chance of gaining five positions, but if failed will lose five positions instead.
The race will occur in my next large post.
"This is Switchblade." Dio spoke into his transceiver, "I'm in position."
Dio took this chance to look around him to get a better understanding of his surroundings. (Wherever the heck he is)
((Where am I anyway?))
[QUOTE]This is Wrench. Fat Rat, Firehead, do you see anything that looks out of place? Guards bunched up in a spot or private security protecting any odd-looking characters?[/QUOTE]
"There is this fat guy trying to eat several hotdogs at once while waiting in line for more food...Hold on, I'm seeing some guys in trench coats. Several of them actually. All across the crowd. It's like a uniformed group. Fat rat, you seeing this?"
(Sorry to interrupt but oh man, now things are getting interesting. You guys are really good at visualizing the story!)
Amelia walks into the VIP room, carrying with her 5 large popcorn bags, 3 pretzels, and a huge hot dog. The food is arranged in a tower, with Amelia leaning back trying to hold it all up. She jumps onto her chair before lowering all the food by her side. She starts chowing down on the food, making an audiable, "nom nom nom" sound. Popcorn, pretzel, hotdog, repeat. Oblivious of everyone else. It's just so goooooood~
Yuganarrowed her eye when she got the new intel.
"If they start rearranging the pieces it's time for us to review the rule book. Given the message found in the Crows nest we can either assume it's the mafia who lies behind the targets disapperance. But according to our intel Asset protection is also here to keep anything criminal from occuring during the race so they could also have snatched him. Give that the new pieces have made themselves prominent in the crowd we can assume they are the heavy forces that our intel hinted at."
Yuga crossed her legs, leaning on her arm while stroking her chin.
"We proceed under those assumptions. Monitor the heavy force and continue with the operation."
...
Markus heard the call and peaked through his binoculars, scanning the crowd.
"Fat Rat 'ere. I've got me eyes on a bloody murder of crows formin' in the crowd.
"Solid copy Sextant." Said Maddox while giving Taylor a concerned look. He held his rifle even closer.
((I like how amelia is either completely ignormant of the race situation and the stakes or that she just doesn't care. Also, I guess Owen's race really gets determined by the 60 wreck that's going to happen. Also, not sure if I'm posting ahead of events, so my apologies if I am.))
Owen sat in the car on the starting grid, waiting for the command to light 'em up. Of course, with the speech still going on, it would probably be a while before the command got announced. That coffee that Alex provided was doing its job, so pre-race butterflies amounted to the only jitters Owen felt surge through him. As he waited, a sense of accomplishment traveled from his brain. Even though his entry to the race was only an attempt to stop Jeb from winning the race, Owen still ecstatic to be racing again. "I guess no matter what happens, I get some kind of victory" he mused to himself. Then another thought announced itself. Owen thought about it previously, but it burrowed its way into his head again. Either way, Owen faced a retirement after this race. Owen didn't know just how far the mob's influence spread to the rest of the F-Max series. But for now, this thought remained as a thought.
Hariim takes the initiative and starts systematically tagging the position and patrol routes of all the trench coated individuals for his teammates. He also takes note of the odd camera he suddenly can't see with, and tries to access it. "Team, this is Router. Lost view on one of my cameras. Something is up for sure." [roll to regain control of the camera again]
------------------------------------------
Bucky gets to work in her pit, and works with her crew to prep for the race.
[QUOTE=enigmarage;50264729]((I like how amelia is either completely ignorant of the race situation and the stakes or that she just doesn't care. ))[/QUOTE]
(( Amelia is relaxing because no one gave her a job to do so might as well eat! ))
((Blorgy- the camera isn't blank. The Mafia is broadcasting fake footage of an empty room; Hariim wouldn't notice anything wrong, and it's too late to account for this sort of counterstrategy. Also, note that during the race section, a roll of 0-10 was used for Jeb's performance to correct for a math error.))
A full field of engines sounded off like thunder. Slowly, it began to lurch forward, the pace car leading the pack like a parade of steel and fury. The ghost team watched as the men in trench coats calmly scanned their surroundings. One of them seemed to make eye-contact with Maddox and Taylor. He slowly held out his hand, and pointed two fingers. The old "hand pistol," he gestured a shot in their direction before grinning and putting his hand back in his coat. After a lap, the pace car pulled out of the way and opened the way for the swarm of cars to blast through the starting grid once more.
Ready or not, the moment had finally come.
[video=youtube;81VfbhMRMkA]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81VfbhMRMkA[/video]
Section 1:
Jeb: [B]1[/B] (-5): 4 Positions Lost. Currently in 34th.
Owen: 3 Positions Gained. Currently in 47th.
Out of the gates, the "Son of the South" proved to be more timid than his practice times had suggested. Aggressive racers dominated the inside lines, and Jeb was forced to give up ground to them. Somewhere, Donatello was gripping his chair as he wondered whether his organization had enough backup plans to make up for this. Meanwhile, Owen began to move through the pack, displaying his less than even-tempered demeanor as he scraped against them.
Section 2:
Jeb: [B]6[/B] (-5): 1 Position Gained. Currently in 33rd.
Owen: 3 Positions Gained. Currently in 44th.
While Owen continued to climb, Jeb was barely able to maintain his position. After losing another two positions, Jeb finally pulled off a tricky maneuver on a chicane turn and regained them, before finally catching up to one of the drivers who had passed him before. The VIP box was quiet, save for the scraping of forks and Amelia's munching. Yanim finished eating her sushi with her fingers and then picked her fangs with the chopsticks. Soon, the racers would need to pit.
Section 3:
Jeb: [B]4[/B] (-5): 1 Position Lost. Currently in 34th.
Owen: Pit.
Bucky: [B]6[/B]
Frosty: [B]2[/B]
Sledge: [B]2[/B]
Valkyrie: [B]10[/B]
Pit Crew Total: 20 (/10) = 2
Owen: 5 Positions Gained. Currently in 39th.
During Jeb's trip into the pit, one of his tire changers tripped over an air pressure line and the whole operation went poorly as a result. By comparison, the mechanical efficiency of Bucky and the experienced proficiency of Val made up for Sledge's awkwardness and Frosty struggling to handle his job correctly in such baggy clothing. When all was said and done, with all racers pitting at some point during this ten-lap section, Jeb had fallen a position back and Owen could now see his car on the stretches ahead. Phone calls were being made at the Palazzo, and threats were being doled out. The Mafia had tried to find other drivers willing to crash and save their dark horse, but none of them had the guts to risk their lives.
Section 4:
Jeb: [B]4[/B] (-5): 1 Position Lost. Currently in 35th.
Owen: CH Estimate: 3/5, [B]4[/B], Passed. 8 Positions Gained. Currently in 31st.
A jovial atmosphere was beginning to take hold in the VIP box. Despite the danger in the stands, it was becoming clear that Jeb was unlikely to win this race. After slipping wide on a fateful turn, another driver pulled ahead, placing Owen directly behind his uncle. Unflinchingly, Owen rammed him, putting him on notice that his old ass wasn't welcome on this circuit. Jeb obliged, swinging wide on the next turn and opening the way. "Yashta!" Yanim screamed as she witnessed the maneuver, springing to her feet. "Keh, there ya go, kid!" Rask yelled. Owen, sensing his own talents taking flight, put the petal to the metal and battled his way through the crowd, fighting for several more positions. The men in the trench coats began to move, heading straight for the pit lanes. They were clearly planning something.
"Chop Shop, this is Router," Hariim warned. "You've got bad company closing in."
---
Down at ground level, a trio of the mysterious men appeared from around the corner of the garage building, shoving neutral pit crew members out of the way on their walk toward the Muramasa crew's position. They reached into their trench coats and retrieved some heavy tools, intending to attack the pit crew in a melee!
(( Hey, just everyone knows. Jag is going to be acting as an tactical adviser for the ground team as infab suggested earlier.
Also going to state that Harvey just pasted out and is currently unconscious but not bleeding like before. ))
Jag took it's time to scout out both the circuit and the sorunding area carefully on the holomap while within the armory during the debriefing earlier this morning.
The Freelancer took it's time to look over the map before pinpoint an ideal vantage point overlooking the circuit below.
Jag chose same tower as Markus did, through climbing on the exterior of the structure looming over the busy complex below.
The air thick and the wind pushing hard as the occasional aircraft flew past the tower. Not knowing of the chaos that was about to unfold throughout the event.
The Sanghvi's peculiar yet unusually agile stone-like physique was able to swiftly reach it's desired position atop of the relative narrow tower.
"Obelisk reporting, in position, on overwatch." Jag relayed through it's implant, connected with the rest of it's comrade's frequency while it overlooked the area of the operation.
Jag then shifted it's body to lowered position, arching it's body to keep it's profile low with it's pale cloak shrouding it's obsidian body from view.
Only it's rectangular, featureless head was the only thing breaking it's silhouette for it start of it's skulking of the area of the circuit.
Through with the multiple billboards and their onbnoxious, bright lights and colors made the Sanghvi all but invisible from the naked eye of the soft-carbons below.
Even then, Jag knew countless ways to shield itself from the various senors and cameras due to it's years in such affairs.
From drastically lowering the internal heart within it's inner shell to having it's exterior emulate that of the metal communications array around it.
Jag's implant allowed the Sanghvi to view it's targets and assets with ease through it's various visual systems.
However, after the race had begin and their prime target was no where to be seen with unsavory individuals being sighted near the pit crew. Things were about to get very hot, very quickly.
"Fat Rat, targets moving towards chop shop. Any visual view?" Jag asked over it's implant, hastily scanning the area near the garage below.
It was official. The mafia was out for blood. Anything to make sure they won. "Looks like we may be switching to Plan B soon." muttered Taylor, as she kept her eyes on that one particular goon that had made a gesture towards them. She tapped her earpiece, and spoke to the pit crew.
"Chop shop, eyes up. Trenchies have arrived." she said. She glanced over at Maddox. This was gonna get bad really fast if anyone but Jeb wins the race. There was also the fact that Briggs, their target, was a no-show. One thing at a time, Taylor. "Router, its Viceroy. I want you to check the complex thoroughly. Every camera feed. Look for stuff out of the ordinary. Goons or trenchies doing odd stuff. Going into rooms or leaving rooms often, too many guards at a door, empty looking rooms with guards posted outside, whatever. The King may still be in the palace." she said, looking over at Maddox as she spoke into her earpiece. These grease-balls weren't going to prevent them from completing their mission.
[B]....[/B]
"Fuckin' [B][I]A[/I][/B], we kicked [B]ASS[/B] on that stop." said Valkyrie, actually excited from such a great pit stop. She grinned through her visor, as she looked at Bucky and the others. She then spotted the three trench coat wearing goons on the approach, just as they heard Harrim and Taylor's warnings. "Shitkickers incoming." she muttered, reaching over and grabbing a monkey wrench from the toolbox nearby. If they wanted their asses beat, [I]bring it on[/I].
((Someone please tell me where am I?))
[QUOTE=KonorB;50266887]((Someone please tell me where am I?))[/QUOTE]
[I assume in the VIP box with everyone else or wandering about the complex.]
Maddox raised his rifle and looked at the three men in trenchcoats. "This is a restricted area. You have five seconds to turn around and leave." He said in a dark and menacing voice.
The former soldier hoped that the sight of two heavily armored and armed mercenaries would be enough to convince the trenchcoats to back off.
((Roll for intimidation, if failed, please roll for a reaction shot. Maddox literally has his finger on the trigger.))
Taylor followed Maddox's lead, raising her rifle to her shoulder and aiming at the lead goon. Extra incentive for them to do as Maddox said.
Markus but down his binoculars and changed his focus from the men in the crowd to the goons in the backstrip of the pit, nearing Taylor and Mad, "Right ya are Obelisk, I count 3 trenchies."
Markus knew that if he started shooting he could easily draw attention to himself, missing his opportunity to take a shot that really mattered.
"I won't give up this position unless Sextant has anything to say about it."
...
Yuga had stood up and was standing relaxed with her hands behind her back.
"Execute Ms Caine's order, Mr.M'baal, we must find Briggs through some detective work it seems.
Perhaps we can even learn who is behind this if we can locate him.
She listened to the comms as the situation in the pits started to develop.
"This is Sextant, you are to neutralize the threat with utmost modesty. We must delay suspicion as long as possible."
She turned her attention towards a screen showing the Race and positions. Owen and the pit crew had performed satisfactory thus far. If they managed to keep it up and work undisturbed they might very well have a shot at winning the whole thing, which meant a considerable sum funneled directly into the company. But priority number one was making sure that Jeb didn't win, which also seemed very likely at this time given his poor performance.
[Meh, fuck it. I'll be in the VIP room]
"Jesus Christ can you believe this guy?" Dio sniggered as he observed Jeb's performance in the race. "I can't believe the Mafia's actually counting on him to win the race, it's like watching a monkey trying to drive a car!"
"Sextant, me and Fat Rat can't really help the Chop Shop without alerting The King. But the Trenches look like they want to fight. Consider sending the Chef for "moral" support, it's among his talents."
Yuga narrowed her eyes. It was true that Alex had been a pit fighter and that his ability to take on thugs in hand to hand combat should be no problem.
"Chef, this is Sextant. Can you make your way to the chessboard? There seems to be some unwanted attention at the chop shop."
She sat her self down in the captains chair and crossed her legs, grabbing her teacup from a table next to it.
If Alex could get to the pit he could get there to late. She had trusted Taylor with overlooking security on the ground so she hoped her and Mad had some kind of plan that didn't include backup.
"Why can't I go? If it's a fist fight then I'm the guy with the knife." Dio looked over his shoulder and asked.
[QUOTE]Chef, this is Sextant. Can you make your way to the chessboard? There seems to be some unwanted attention at the chop shop.[/QUOTE]
"Understood." Alex got up from his seat and started to leave the VIP box.
[QUOTE]Why can't I go? If it's a fist fight then I'm the guy with the knife.[/QUOTE]
"Quit whining, blondie." Alex hurried down to where the pit crews were. He was lucky, the trenc coats still haven't done anything and they had their back turned to him, tools in hand. They had knocked a few tools over when they were pushing the other crews aside. Alex picked up a wrench from the ground and got ready to swing to the goon in the middle. [Invoking contender]
"Yeah go fuck yourself." Dio shot a dirty look at Alex while giving him the middle finger at the same time.
((This isn't flaming to clarify this, this is how I think Dio would act))
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