After watching Maeva roll her beast down the street, Luis grabs a spare couple of extinguishers from the shop and loads them in the back, next to the medkit and climbs inside the cab to make sure the tools are secure and the weapons are packed and covered.

Once he's sure nothing will roll loose in the back, he takes a seat and starts up the truck, letting it idle and warm up.

K-Bob is finishing putting on his helmet and armored gloves when the big truck roars to life. He straddled the Blitzen, raised the kickstand and thumbed the engine to life.
After a quick toe-tap to get the bike into gear, he slips the clutch – allowing the engine to assist in easing away from the wall. Walking the sport bike over to the rumbling truck he approaches the driver’s door. Shouting to be heard over the reverberating sounds of the truck and bike in the enclosed garage he tells Luis; “I’ll follow you.” The curt nod indicates Luis understands.
Slipping the clutch and walking the bike to the wall mounted roll-up door control pad, K-Bob removes a glove and thumbs the ID pad, then selects ‘full open’ on the control. Easing out of the garage he moves down the drive to the end and off to the left side, waiting for Luis to take the lead.
As they make their way to the track K-Bob is careful to watch the RPM’s – Luis had told him that the new cam chain would need to be ‘seasoned’, allowed to stretch and break-in then readjusted after about 500km – before he could really thrash the throttle.

Sebastian growled and kicked an oil can across the garage. "That's low drek man, low drek. That's a nasty game they play, 'cause it can take some real cast iron cajones to not take the bait when they say, 'aren't you good enough to put your life on the line?"

He leaned on the stand he had the bike up on, turning a clean rag black as he wiped his hands off. "You've got some pretty bad metal fatigue running through the forks. Next time you try anything heavy, you're going to see your front wheel bouncing away without you. Give me the night to work, and you'll be back to smashing through citymaster grills by sundown tomorrow."

"Louis, give me a ring if you have any more run ins with these drekheads. I got a feeling they might be specifically gunning for my chummers. If you get the chance, give 'em a little trouble, for me. Don't push it though, I'd rather be polishing your fenders, than an 'in memorial' plaque."

The big troll growled. "Null perp on that. The big boss said we 'ere to stay outta there way. Can't go 'round backing outta races, not if we wanna keep a hold of respect, but the wheels most of them got," he whistled, "it's about three leagues above street." Then he grinned. "We ever crack their alarm codes, mano are we going to be riding high."

The riders mounted their bikes, one of them doubling up since Sebastian had his ride. Louis tossed off a salute as they peeled out of the drive, and Sebastian returned it, before taking the bike down and wheeling it out to the stepvan. He really wished that he'd left the crane at _this_ garage. He'd forgotten how tough manhandling a bike could be for someone his size.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of grease instead. Just one more stop to make, and then back to ESS' garage.

He activated his cell phone, and listened to it ring. "Hey Kuruma," he started when he heard the pick up. "Sebastian. Could you do me favor, and take a look out in your yard? I need a fork to a '53 Viking." He nodded a couple of times and then grinned. It was good to have a friend with a junkyard. He made arrangements to get the fork from Kuruma, and then set the autonav to take him back to ESS.

Keeping an eye on K-Bob's position, Luis headed for the track. The truck moved through traffic as only a very large beast can. That is to say, not very well, 'cause no one wants a truck in front of them. After a few dirty tricks to get lane changes, he's nearing the track and finally pulls into the visitor area, already dialing Xerrus' phone as he climbs down.
"Hoi chummer, we're at the gate. Can't bring in my truck without my pass. K-Bob is here too, same deal and Maeva should already be around here somewhere."

Xerrus picks up his phone as he sets his hovercraft down in the pit area to fuel up again.
"Oh, right. I forgot you'll need 'em to get in. I'll be over there in a sec."

After his hovercraft is fueled and ready to go again, he takes a quick spin over to the main gate to deliver the passes to those who were waiting.

"Well, I was gonna make you guys chase me down for them, but I guess that plan didn't work out too well."

"Chase. Right. Only way this thing is chasing you is if I block the track and you hit me, then I might be able to catch you. How does the track seem to run?"

K-Bob parks his bike and takes off his helmet as he approaches his team-mates.

He heard Luis ask “How does the track seem to run?”

Opening the jacket enough to reveal the grip of the Manhunter he adds “And how tight is security?”

Note: if Xerrus indicates that the weapon will be a problem K-Bob will ask Luis if it can be hidden in a toolbox in the back of the truck.

"It runs pretty well. That hairpin is a bit hairy, but I think I can manage it. The slope comin up that hill isn't too friendly to my skirt either, but coming down is a breeze. Security? No one really checked me out, for right now, I think its just people giving the track a spin, nothing too dangerous."

Xerrus revs up his hovercraft yet again, and rolls the top down to yell to Luis. "Follow me in that hunk a junk to the pit area." Xerrus waits for the truck to get moving, and takes it nice and slow over to the pit.

Muttering to himself, Hunk of junk my Mothers hoop, Luis revs the truck back up and relocates to the pit area.
"Have fun running the track boys, I'm going to have a look around the area."
Locking the truck, Luis begins walking the team's pit area, looking for service hatches and other unconventional points of entry.

Jet, from his vantage point on a bench, notices the steady trickle of other lieutenants coming in, and gos and rounds each one up, saying he has an announcement. Once all are gathered in one spot, he jumps onto a bench to elevate himself, clears his throat, and announces

"I found the guy who blasted Dek. Bald elf named Ackham. Dresses all in black and has a necklace of thumb bones. Real great guy, not all there in the head, though. He drives a black 1997 RX-7, windows tinted almost opaque black. You can barely see inside. Things a monster, too. Can apparently put almost 900 horsepower down, no way I could have raced him. My mechanic friend Johnny does the work on his car. Guess it is a small world, after all. I'd have taken him out myself, but I promised Johnny I wouldn't spill blood in his shop."

Returning from the bathrooms, K-Bob arrived just in time for Jet's announcement. In a darker mood he set out around the track on the Blitzen, only 60 - 80 kph, to get a feel for the flow and look for problem areas like loose debris on the track.

Hearing Jet's statement, Luis walks over to the others, "You didn't happen to catch a plate did you?"

Maeva buried her face in her palm.

"Ugh. So much for not driving the kids into a frenzy. I ever tell you you posessed all the subtlety of a thrown brick, Jet? No, don't answer that. I came to check out the track, not listen to chest-beatings."

Shaking her head, she made her way back to the car. Hopefully, the gesture would make it clear she wasn't planning on listening to any answer that might be yelled after her. Noticing K-Bob had already departed, she kept her speed low for a single lap to take note of problem areas. In paticular, she marked the up and downslope areas and the hairpin. Her internal GPS and Orientation system, combined with the vehicles sensor suite soon had the entire track mapped in something close to full 3-D for her, and she made a mental note to run the corners through her math SPU later that night, so her new map could have deceleration markers added in the spots she'd need to hit the brakes to corner safely. Content that she had finished the boring part of the driving, she made sure she did not catch up fully with K-Bob until they were both on a wide, straight section, before flooring the speeder and shooting past him like a bat out of hell.

Her meat body smiling faintly, though her attention was still on her rigging, she switched to the teams radio frequency. <See you at the finish line, champ! I'll share the chip with my track map in the pit!>

K-Bob tightened his grip as the rocket car blasted past him, wind blast buffeting bike and rider. The stench of burned jet fuel in his nostrals, he doggedly swallowed his pride and continued his slow pace.
'Bout 30 more laps till I can tighten this stupid chain, then I'll show Miss Smarty Pants a thing or two.

"...Bitch. Why d'you think I only told the lieutenants?", Jet mutters under his breath as Maeva walks off.

"Ah, tags. Forgot that one. But how many 1997 RX-7s besides that one can there be on the road?", He says to Luis, smiling. After that, he looks at the track, and Maeva showing up K-Bob in her supercar.

I think I'll wait for the track to clear before I try it out..., he thinks, running a hand through his hair.

Ackham's RX-7 roars up to a seemingly abondoned warehouse, something you see a lot of these days along the edges of cities. He steps out of his car and into the daylight that never shown in his dark car. He blinked for a moment, adjusting to the sudden light that even his sunglasses couldn't stop before walking to the building. He stood a moment staring at the name smeared in grease across the front of door: Johnny Lightning. A slight smile came across his face as he turned the handle and entered.

The warehouse was more like a garage than anything else. Cars and car parts were scattered from place to place, thrown on the floor and hanging on walls. Tires were piled up by the 10's, most of which where not usable anymore; they were balder than the elf that looked at them. The smell of grease and oil would be strong enough to knock a man over if he wasn't used to it, but the smell was something Ackham was accostumed to. If anything, the smell was enjoyable. Shutting the door behind him, he continued inside. Three cars and two bikes down the hall, He comes to another door, a small room off the garage. The elf knocks before entering this time.

"Come in" says a female voice. Ackham opens the door. Inside is an office of sorts, small and clammy although the ratty couch with a sheet thrown across it just left of the door made it almost seem more like living space than an office. racing trophies and plaques reading the name Samantha Delino cover the shelves and line the walls. In the center of the room sat a small desk, the front left leg gone and replaced by racing magazines. The desk was covered with papers, mostly part recites, and beer cans. Among the mess Ackham's eyes focused on a small black book and than to framed picture of a young beautiful elfin woman accepting a trophy. Her smile was bright, but not pure. Her eyes were young but not innocent. Even in her youth this elf was not a child. She was never a child thought Ackham.

"Take a seat, Ackham, or do you plan to stand all day." His eyes jumped rapidly from the picture. Sitting at the desk was the same young elf. She was built small, and appeared almost childlike next to the abnormally large Troll at her side. Her hair was long, falling around her face and down her back. It was a very light color blond, almost white even, with bright blue streaking through it. The blue matched the color of her eyes. It was the color of the hottest fires possible... It was the color of lightning.

"M'lady." Ackham nodded to the woman than looked at the troll who smiled back at him, "and friend Ark, I have some news for you. I raced a man last night who has earned a spot in my shrine for the Gods of Racing. A very impressive rider he was." Ackham took a seat and continued to tell the story of the night before. The woman's eyes flashed and she smiled.

"A rider of such caliber to end up in your shrine rather than around your neck. Do tell, who was it? I'm just dieing to know." The woman's voice purred as she spoke. Any youthfulness she had left was gone. She was not the same person as in the picture.

"An ESS Lieutenant by the name of Dek."
Her eyes widened than got dark. "One of Sebastian's men, you say. I didn't realize any of them was willing to race for the Ultimate Prize."

Ackham stood up. "I talked to a friend of his, M'Lady, at Johnny's shop. Fellow by the name of Jet Jaguar. I'm sure that you've heard of him. He seemed quite upset at his friends lose. He doesn't believe Dek knew what he was racing for. I assumed he knew."

"The Ultimate Prize is the only thing worth racing for," spoke the female elf in a cold voice.

Ackham nodded, "I know, M'lady." The woman stood up and in one movement the Troll stood up next to her. He towered above them. He was lucky that the ceiling was high or he wouldn't have been able to stand at all. The woman grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. She wrote quickly, folded the paper, and placed it in an envelope.

"Ackham, if there are men within the ESS who are willing to race for the Ultimate Prize than I want to know. I want to meet these friends of a man you deem worthy of your Gods of Racing. You know how I love to meet new people." She sat back down, crossing her right leg over her left in one quick movement. The look in her eyes spread to her lips and spilled out as a smile. It was no longer cold, but it could easily make men shiver. "There's a car show this evening. You know the place. Go to the ESS HQ and make sure Sebastian and whoever he feels should come are there, although I think they'll come willingly. They did just lose a friend. I'm sure they would like to meet with us Lightning Riders real soon." She hands Ark the letter she wrote and Ark hands it to Ackham.
Ackham nods and departs. Ark watches him closely as he leaves.


The elfin woman watches Ark as he returns to his seat. Even if he was sitting and she was standing she would still have to look up to meet his eyes. "Ark, this evening will be fun." A warm smile comes across her lips. Pure enjoyment enters her eyes. "Yes, Ark. It will be fun."



Ackham leaves the building and gets in his car. He looks at the letter addressed to no one. The envelope was closed but not sealed. curiosity gets to him and he quickly opens the letter. Inside it reads:

"To Sebastian and whom it may concern,

I hear that you have had a friend to lose the Ultimate Prize. I'm sorry for your lose. The Ultimate Prize is something only certain men are able to keep hold of. We all have our time when it will be just outside of our grasp. We all meet our finishline. I would like a chance to meet with you before anything further happens between you and my men. There is a car show tonight. The displays are nice. I feel you would enjoy such a show. My lieutenant, Ackham, will give you directions. Thank you.

Leader of the Lightning Riders,

Johnny Lightning"

Driving another lap at high speed, Maeva slowed down a little before reaching K-Bob again. After all, most jokes are only funny the first time they're told and she had no intention of being responsible for him being surprised and driving into a wall. Once she reached the pits, she flashed her trademark smile and ducked indoors to find a chipburner.

"It's raw recording only, but I know some of you hate the markers I slap on top of my track maps. Make sure to return the chip once you've made yourself a copy so everyone else can have a go gentlemen." she announced to the world in general. "Track's fine - moreso than the back streets of last month at least - but be careful with the upslope bit. The Corsair nearly took to the air first time I didn't brake in time."

Leaving the copy of her chip on a table, she pocketed the original and set about finding something to drink. The beams of sunlight creeping into the pits now that the sun had cleared the skyscrapers were vaguely irritating now that her cars toned windows did not block them, but she paid them little heed. She hadn't felt anything worth worrying about in the car as she took her warm-up laps, so she pulled the hammock salvaged from the ESS garage out from its hiding spot under the drivers seat and sat about finding a spot to resume her nap.

She tapped a random passer-by in ESS coveralls on the shoulder as he passed. "If anything happens that's worth waking me for, will you see it's done? Thanks." She deliberately avoided using her "poke me with a stick" remark, in case there were two smartasses in a day.

The RX-7 roared around street corners sliding through turns like a rally car, Ackham was in a hurry, m'lady had charged him with a quest, and he just hoped they didn't shot the messenger. Toning down his driving as he neared the ESS headquarters, what did that mean anyway he pondered, he notcied the star out front. White Ford americar he noted in his head, pulling into the driveway the lowered beast caught on an outcrop of concrete that the members of ESS had all avoided, eh can't be helped.

As the powerful monster known to it's owner simply as black betty, began it's turbo spin down the elf stepped out readjusting he sunglasses to convey that he wasn't here for trouble, thinking this he paused wondering just how one would go about doing that. As he walked towards the front doors he began to realize that all the lights were off. Bloody hell, eh good thing i've got tape Fishing in his jacket for a piece of tape, for the life of him he couldn't explain why he always carried it around but it has gotten him out of quiet a few tight spots, and applied the duct tape to the envelope. Walking to the door he prayed that they hadn't gotten paraniod and cranked up the shatter sensors on the windows, and stuck the note neatly on the glass portion of the front door. He pulled out a sharpie and wrote on the window, you can get this and the goo from the tape off with acitone or fingernail polish remover. He chuckled at the comment on the window, ironic to write to marker how to remove the marker, and realizing he was laughing out loud he quickly stopped himself.

Instead of returning to his car he decided he needed a stiff drink, he was glad nobody was there thinking that he didn't want to die today, and he quickly caught notice of a pub across the street. Deciding not to move his car, parking was free in the ESS lot, he walked in the direction of the Bar. Passing the lonestar officer totally engrossed in some book on building healthy relationships, he had a rather nasty idea. Stopping at the window of the partrol car he rapped his knuckle on the glass, the cop jumped and drew his gun, quickly realizing what he was doing he put it back in his holster. He rolled down the window, "boy you scared the crap outa me."
"Sorry officer, I just wanted to ask you a question," the elf smiled pulling his sunglasses above his head. John sullivan had never had an easy time talking to people, which is probably why is wife had moved out, but he always seemed to have a batman complex when it came to being a cop. He would sit in his partol car imagining being in a gunfight with some shadowrunners his partner taking a bullet to the shoulder, and John steeping in and saving the day. He had never actually fired his gun on duty, which is something most cops relish, but not John, he wanted to be like a sheriff in the old trideo flicks imagining himself taking down bad guy after bad guy, and then when it's all said and done, he'd say,"You've come to the wrong town fella why don't you turn tail and get on outa here." "I'm sorry," ackham said with a very confused look on his face. "Huh, oh I'm sorry I haven't been getting enough sleep, what can I help you with," JOhn Sullivan said feeling really stupid. "Well I own that bar across the street," he pointed to Misty's Pub, "And I was wondering why you've been sitting outside my bar." "You don't look like a misty," Officer sullivan said. "Thats very good because misty is my ex-wife, she left me about two months ago," he had wanted to be a cop when he was a kid and had taken a few classes in it before dropping out of school, so he knew all the signs a cop lookked for to see if you were lying. He met John eye to eye, and kept his hands out of his pockets, after a moment of silence, John spoke up,"Oh I'm sorry about that I'm going through a similar thing with my little lady." John picked up the book he was reading and showed it to Ackham. "I see so why are you outside my bar," ackham began to grow reluctant that he would get any information out of the cop. "Well I'm not supposed to say but since were in the same boat, I guess it wouldn't hurt anything," he began. "You see that warehouse across the street, the one with that white van out front," he pointed to the abandoned building half a block down the road. "Well the mafia is dealing drugs out of that building and we're setting up a sting operation." "Oh, I see and here I was thinking you were after those street racers across the street," Ackham pointed to the ESS HQ. "Street racers, you don't say, there not those Lightning riders are they, the boss said I'm to arest them on site even if they're not doing anything," Ackham cringed at that, feeling the fear creep into him he quickly finished off his conversation with the cop and walked quickly to "his" bar.

Picking up the raw track data and running it through the shop computer for tire wear, fuel calculations, etc. Luis began setting up timers for when pitting is good and when it is necessary for the various vehicles.
Note to self, get K-Bob's Blitzen on the computer for the updated performance readings with the new chain.

Hearing from the covered space, "If anything happens that's worth waking me for, will you see it's done? Thanks."

Speaking low to the teammates not on the track or the sack, "Okay guys I've got Maeva's data in the easy-bake, cooking pit times for fuel, tires, et cetera. Make sure you double check it before you race."

Making connection with his P-Sec, he dialed up Jinx, "Jinx, it's me. I need a spare Predator-III. Preferably something off the back of a truck. Thanks."

[ooc]Neeeeevermind[/ooc]

Sebastian sat in the Bulldog's bench seat, quietly thinking about the upcoming race. The Lightning Riders would not be a problem there, but they might become one later on, especially if ESS did well. The go-gang might seek them out, challange them to prove that they really were that good. Something like that would be very difficult to back down from.

The garage was almost deserted when he got back. That was rather curious. He double checked his cell, but there had been no messages. He saw something hanging from one of the exterior windows; the zoom on Battlecat's sensors showed him that it was a plain envelope, with instructions on how to remove the tape, as well as the instructions themselves written on the window.

That's odd. He thought to himself, getting out of the van and pulling the envelope down. He read it once, then put it into his pocket, sending the open signal for the garage door and then going inside, ordering the van to come in after him.

There was a note from Xerrus on the bulletin board about the passes coming in. That was a welcome bit of news. That must be where everyone had gotten off to. He rolled the bike out of the van, leaving it in one of the maintenance bays along with the fork, scrawling 'For Boss' hands only.' on the whiteboard outside the bay.

<<Switch paint to ES Automotive Supply>> he ordered Battlecat's dogbrain.
<<We're going to the track. Follow me, and take no other actions unless ordered.>>

<<Recieved and understood Boss Kitty. Let's roll!>>

He couldn't keep the 'invitation' secret from the lieutenants. They should all make an appearance at the show. They couldn't look like they'd been spooked. If they looked weak, the wolves would begin to circle.

He pulled the dustcover off the Westwind with some difficulty, climbing into the drivers set and jacking in, pulling out of the garage with the stepvan close behind him.
----------------------------------------

Maeva was not having a good day. It had only been a few minutes since the gentle rocking of the hammock had whisked her away to the world of dreams before the noise of someone clearing his throat next to her returned her to the world of the waking. To make matters worse, sunlight were flooding through the open door, making her skin crawl. For a moment, she forgot to switch on her eye-light system, leaving her eyes a pair of dull, dark blue orbs that seemed to unnerve the man in front of her.

"Mph... Sean, is it?" Noticing he mans nervous fidgeting, she turned up the eye-light system to a soft glow. Funny how people could accept a fuzzy purple elf but had a problem with cybernetic eyes that didn't look like their meat counterparts.

"Um... Fan Belt said to bring coffee if I were to wake you up." The young man wringed his hands nervously. As far as Maeva could recall, he were one of the new recruits, jumping in to ESS when it became apparent they had a shot at joining the IARC. She allowed herself an inward smile. He and a few other newbies had started a pot to guess what ESS meant. Some of the suggestions surprised even her. He seemed to gather enough confidence to continue. "Sorry ma'am. I were told that... um... that you were to be notified of... um... this. If it's okay ma'am."

Great. The newbie took her title of lieutenant literally. She would rather have been without most of the time. Sure, a little authority were a good thing when you were stuck under the car and needed to tell some random passer-by to fetch the tools you had forgotten. But she were a racer first and foremost. "The coffee will do for starters, champ. You can explain why you woke me after you hand over the caffeinated goodness to moi. And shut the door, will you? The sun and I have a restraining order forbidding us to get too close to one another."

Seemingly relieved that the "lieutenant" wasn't going to have him scrub the floors - or whatever tall tales Fan Belt had filled his head with for a cheap laugh - Sean rushed to do as told. The sounds of people moving about and working on the cars and bikes were muffled now, a subdued hum through the thin wall that separated the back room from the pit garage itself. "Well ma'am..." Maeva shook her head. "Maeva will do. And stop looking like I'll bite your head off. A little soycaf goes a long way towards earning my forgiveness". "Well Maeva, ma'am..." It was probably the best she'd get out of him. Whomever sent him - she still suspected Fan Belt - must've filled his head with all sorts of tales. Being the center of spook stories came naturally to her, it would seem. "...Sebastian's on his way down to the pit. Rumor has it he's got some sort of important message for the lieutenants Maeva ma'am."

Draining the cup, she placed it on a stack of toolboxes next to Sean. "Guess I'd better go out and look like I'm busily at work then. Thank you, Sean. If you have time, a refill of the cup and I'll have words with whomever told you whatever they did about me mauling the last man who woke me up." She flashed him one of her smiles and it seemed to have the desired effect. Walking out a lot calmer than he entered, he took her cup with him for a refill she noted. Perhaps being a lieutenant wasn't half bad at all. Checking her reflection in a dirty mirror on the far wall, she brushed a few strands of stray hair back in place, locked the door and changed into something more casual than her track outfit before going out to meet the "big" man himself.

K-Bob pulled into pit row, magic 500 km mark accomplished. He quickly set the bike up on a stand and gathered the few tools needed for the adjustment. A bit of wrenching and measuring later and the chain was adjusted - now the Blitzen could make full power at the peak of performance, perfect for the upcoming races.
Later after the bike cooled he would fill the tank and bottle but for now he was content to help Luis with the tool pushing until the boss showed up.

Assisting K-Bob with the knuckle scraping on his Blitzen, "Don't forget to hook it up to the comp later. You'll want the new data with chain and you should think about picking up a good radio. You don't have a jack, so we'll have to look into some subvocal mics as well, so we can hear you on the track and you can hear us."

Jet lapped the track a few times after most everyone had left, letting his mind wander as he takes each turn. Mostly about which song he'll learn for his guitar next, or if he should watch a Godzilla movie tonight. Or maybe go out and try to find a girlfriend. After a few more laps, he pulled off and headed onto the street, shredding pavement back to the office. He pulls his bike into the parking lot, and hops off. He takes off his helmet, and shakes some sweat off his head, then straightens his hair spikes back to pointing up. He pulls his gloves off, and stuffs them into his helmet, which he hangs on the bike, unzips his jacket, then starts for the office, when he passes a very...familiar black car. Jet stops and looks at it for a second.

What the hell is he doing here?, Jet thinks. He looks around for the sight of the elf, and not seeing him, Jet gos down on one knee, reaches into the hidden sheathe on the inside of his engineer's boot, and takes hold of his knife.

Hmm...theres not much I could do that wouldn't be apparent...and I know jack-all about cars, anyway., he thinks, releasing the handle. Jet hops to his feet and jogs inside, but not without noticing the writing on the doors.

"That bastard! Right on our goddamn door!", he exclaims, pulling open the door. He heads inside and starts looking for Sebastian.

Stagering out of the bar Ackham saw to his dismay that the cop he'd foulishly talked to earlier was still sitting across the street reading his marriage counceling book. Trying his hardest not to look drunk, Ackham slowly made his way back to his car. As he approached the sleeping beast, he fumbled out his keys completely oblivious to the new cars in the lot. The monkey on his back was for now quiet and he didn't want to do anything to wake it. After standing on the side of his car for a minute fishing in his pocket he produced the keys and opened his car.

The RX-7 roared to life, Ackham had programmed the autonav system to wait for two minutes before begining to drive once the car was started to let the turbo collect oil from the oil pan and get the engine to nominal temp. As the car idled anyone with ear that was within a hundred foot radius could hear the rumble of the powerful motor and as he waited for the car to get warm he began to look around the parking lot.

"Drek there are people here now," Ackham begins to worry that they might not find the writting on the door are amusing as he did(he didn't even think about them being steamed from lossing a man to him), and he began to strum on the dash nervously. He was in no condition to drive and was forced to wait the two minutes for the car to warm up.

Jet was still darting around the offices, yelling at any regular members he could find over where Sebastian was, and how could someone walk up and write on the damn door without any of them noticing, when he hears the engine start up.

Oh no...he's not leaving this time... Jet thinks.
Letting go of Fan Belt's collar, he turns and dashes out the door, and sees Ackham sitting behind the wheel. Noticing that he looks a little off, and that theres a cop car parked across the street, Jet approaches cautiously. Once near, he reaches out and taps on Ackham's window.

"'Ey! Come out of there so we can talk.", he says cheerily, after getting the Elf's attention.

The low buzz in her pocket announced to Maeva that someone were trying to get her attention. She fumbled for the small earbud and placed it in her datajack, before resuming her clothes change. The grinning face of Glottis, horns and all filled a corner of her perephial vision on her image link.

"Oui?"

"'Ey beauty. S'me. Listen, the boys and I were swinging around your garage for that keg of soybeer you promised, and saw that fellow Ackham you warned us about. Din't look too much like a threat iff'n you ask me. He could barely stand up. Want us to go rough him up a bit and dent his wheels?"

"Mmmm.... Tempting, but non. The Star is probably still lounging around the garage waiting for something to happen. The street was crawling with then when I left."

"Yeah... We were kind of wondering about that. Where did you go and hide? Is not like you going around being active this time of the day?" Glottis chuckled. Try as he might, that seemed to be the closest he ever got to witty. Maeva didn't mind, really. She met enough people who tried to impress her with big words to appreciate the simple mind of Glottis. Besides, he were more courteous around her than just about anyone else in the city, and it never hurt to have three meters and over half a ton worth of angry troll on your side in the neighbourhood where she lived. "Say... Beauty, one of yours just popped out the door and addressed the pointie. Tall fella for a 'uman, blonde hair."

"Ugh... Yes, that's probably Jet. Do me a favour and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid? Last thing we need is Ackham or his car turning up broken somewhere and the last place the Star saw him being our garage."

"Sure thing, Beauty. I'll have Stinky go ahead and join him in a moment. So, about that soybeer?"

"Out back in the garage once someone lets you in. Beind the broken grey trailer with the grafitti on it. I'm not sure if I'll be showing tonight. Word is Sebastian's joining us on the track with some sort of news."

"Aw... But I was gonna show you to the newbie. It's 'is first night as a member too. Pointer like yerself. You'd like him."

"Désolé, Beast. I'll have to owe you one. You be careful now, all right? Don't break anything or anyone"

"Will do. See yas around."

Maeva pulled the phone out of her datajack and returned it to the pocket of her new pants. Not quite a racer's outfit, but she were done for the day anyhow, and they were more comfortable. A knock on the door was followed by a muffled shout from outside.

"Your coffee, Maeva ma'am"

She took a deep breath and put her game face and trademark smile on, then unlocked the door. "Bless your tarnished soul, Sean. Sebastian arrive yet?"

Oh crap, jet

Ackham looked out at jet for what seemed like ten minutes to him, really it was only thirty seconds but the adrenaline surge was working overtime for jet. The window went down with a click, the same click that was the precursor to so many races and so many thumbs for Ackham's "collection". Nervously he asked, "About what?" In his current state he was in no position to "talk" like Jet would want, or even be creepy, as he was so fond of being.

Jet, still smiling, brings his face to the window.

"I just wanted to resolve our discussion from earlier today. I think I may have ended it on a wrong note.", he says. Then he notices the heavy alcohol smell wafting from Ackham's mouth, and smiles a bit wider.

"Seems like you're in no condition to drive, Sparky. Why don't you come out and we can get some nice soykaf. My treat.", he says in a nice friendly manner.

Sebastian felt uneasy the entire drive to the track. It felt like something was hanging over his head, just waiting for the right moment to fall. That, combined with his preoccupation over the letter kept him from noticing the black car parked outside of the E.S.S garage. He was surprised, although not unpleasantly, when the trip turned out to be compeltly uneventful.

He ordered the van to park, then instructed the survelliance zeppelin to launch, and give him a good view of the entire track. That'd give him an excellent picture of the way the team's vehicles handled the blacktop. He dialed up Xerrus, so that he could get his pass to get in, and told him to pass word to the rest of the team at the track, to have them all meet in the pit. He needed to talk to the whole team, and it was important.

When everyone was gathered, he showed them the letter.

"To Sebastian and whom it may concern,

I hear that you have had a friend to lose the Ultimate Prize. I'm sorry for your lose. The Ultimate Prize is something only certain men are able to keep hold of. We all have our time when it will be just outside of our grasp. We all meet our finishline. I would like a chance to meet with you before anything further happens between you and my men. There is a car show tonight. The displays are nice. I feel you would enjoy such a show. My lieutenant, Ackham, will give you directions. Thank you.

Leader of the Lightning Riders,

Johnny Lightning

"I figure that most of you are planning on attending, and I don't think that 'Johnny' is looking to cause more trouble, but we're still going to wait to treat this delicately. We all stick together in a pack, and it's going to look like we're scared, and expecting trouble. We keep in groups of two or three, and try not to step on anyone's toes. Keep it polite, keep it frosty." While he was talking, he transduced a message back to the garage to keep an eye out for Ackham.

There was a long silence after that. "How's the asphalt feel out there?" he asked to break it.

Ackham squinted for a moment not hearing what Jet said. "I'll be fine thats's what autonav is for right," he asked to no one in particular. Before Jet had a chance to respond a very large hand clapped down on his shoulder. Glottis stood silently for a moment looking over the car that had caused so much trouble.

"It's best you not do anything hastey," Glottis tightened his grip on Jet's shoulder for a moment and then released it all together. "Miss Meava's idea," the huge troll stood awaiting an okay before he returned to his bike.

Ackham's eyes widened at the sight of such a huge thing. He had known trolls infact one of his best friends is a troll, but compare to this guy Ark was a dwarf. But Ark was cunning, this guy didn't look like he couldn't find his way down a hall without stopping for directions.

"You see something you like, squishy," just because Meava had asked him not to let anything foolish happen didn't mean he had to like this guy. Glottis Adjusted his wieght from side to side widening his stance to give the stupid looking elf in the car the message not to mess with him. Ackham didn't respond, instead he looked down at the timer on the dash.

Fifteen seconds left, hurry up you piece of drek

Jet looks at Ackham, then back at Glottis, then to Ackham, then to Glottis.
That furry slitch..., he thinks, rage building internally. He was real sick of Maeva today, and her actions had now ruined his normally calm demeanor
He leans in close to Glottis and hisses quietly, "You listen to me. This keeb greased one of my friends. Now, I'd like nothing more than to knock him out, drag him inside, and do horrible things to him. But if I do, you'll beat me half to death. So you tell her she wins this time, but one day she'll regret that she did."

He turns back to Ackham, lips curled in a tooth baring smile.

"Well then, don't let me keep you.", he says with strained cheer, eye twitching involuntarily. Jet watches the car head out of the parking lot, and he turns back to Glottis.

"You're just lucky I'm not a troll myself, Sparky.", he says, and storms back into the office, slamming the door behind him. He walks quickly to the around the area, and finding none of the lieutenants, grabs the nearest regular he can find.

"Where is everyone!?", he shouts, almost lifting the guy off the ground by his collar.

"The...the track!", he whimpers. Jet drops him and heads into the garage, revs up his bike, and screams down to the track. He surges into the pit, among the gathered lieutenants. He slows down and jumps off the bike, which continues for a few more feet before falling on its side. He tears his helmet off and throws it down onto his bike while charging into the group, and stares them down.

"Where's Maeva!?", he shouts.

Maeva raised a hand lazily. Sitting in the shadows next to the rest of the lieutenants while Sebastian gave his speech she noticed Jet storming in and made a mental note to teach Glottis the art of "subtle" sometime. Ah well, at least Jets rage probably meant the star wouldn't be asking her about why Ackhams car had been standing in their lot for a week and his body found floating downstream somewhere.

Not terribly interested in getting into a shouting match, she left it at pointing out where she were sitting and turned back to Sebastian. "I were invited to another party already this eve, but I told them I might be pulled out for ESS duties at the last minute. I'll go if it's important to you. I'd bring a few friends, but I imagine they'll be drunk enough at the time that one of them will just do something nasty to one of the cars."

She shook her head slowly at the sound of Jets helmet hitting the ground from its precarious resting place.

"As to the asphalt, it's decent enough. I left a track recording near the chipburner and I'll do a pacing recording before the next race for those who need it. I'm not sure about physical security in the pit though, so if this whole Lightning Riders business blows up, we might want to double-check everything just before a race. There are two or three spots on the track just begging for a nasty crash to occur."

She shot a bored glance towards Jet, still looking like steam ought to be coming out of his ears. Perhaps a preemptive strike would be in order. "Before you get started: I don't know what Glottis did, nor am I sure I want to. All I asked him was to make sure the Lone Star officers who were sitting in their cars when I left - and were visible in the background on his vidphone - did not start asking unpleasant questions if Ackham suddenly turned up face-down in the river. See, that's what the job description says. Right next to 'drive faster than the other guy'. We keep the newbies out of trouble, including trouble with the law. Whatever you had in mind that can throw your mood into something like that probably isn't conductive of staying out of trouble."

She studied everyones faces and went on before Jet had a chance to interrupt.

"Now, Sebastian were just telling us we're on Smile-And-Wave duty tonight. Appearently, the Lightening Riders expect us to show up at a car exhibit." She looked to Sebastian to see if he minded her repeating his words while he were present, then back to Jet. "To paraphrase: We keep in groups of two or three, and stay polite but frosty. No looking scared. No raising hell. There'll be kids at the show too, and we are supposed to be professionals now we've joined the league."

"Cute. Well, I guess I should start packing the tools. It'll take me the rest of the day just to get everything cleaned up so I can go. I'll send a notice when the computer is done cooking the initial data, we can tune with it in mind later."

On the crew channel, Start packing, we're done for today. Rig leaves in 15.

That transmitted, he starts wiping down the tools and putting them away into the truck.

Jet was real pissed now. She didn't even know what he was planning, and she goes and screws it all up."Goddammit, Maeva, I had him. There was one fragging Lonestar car, and the guy wasn't even looking. Ackham was drunk as hell, so I could have just knocked him out easy, dragged him back inside. If the cop got suspicious, hey, he was just passed out. And then I could have capped him, and if the Lightning Riders asked, we could say he just lost a race to us. But no! Little Miss Maeva had to frag it all up! This guy killed one of our members! What more does he have to do before we get retribution!? Kill our families?"

Maeva looked to Sebastian and raised an eyebrow. He had heard what Jet just admitted to planning and what she had done to interdict. Ultimately, it fell on his shoulders to decide which of the lieutenants were in the wrong here and with the hotheads around this place she did not envy him the duty.

She were beginning to wonder if she were the only one to remember that Jet had aggreed with her at the meeting this morning that getting into a brawl were the last thing they wished right now. Not to mention Sebastians previous order of simply telling people to blow if they threw drek their way.

"Put it in park, Jet," Sebastian said sharply. He wished that he didn't have to do this face to face. It was difficult to maintain a hard tone with a voice like his. If he could've done it over the matrix, or the radio, he could've given himself vocals that did a much better job of establishing his position of authority. He stared Jet straight in the eye, the black protective covers over his cyber eyes rendering his gaze opaque and impenetrable. "I don't know how much of the story you've paid attention to, so here's the recap: Dek got himself into a death race, and lost. That hurts, but it was done according to rules. It wasn't a hit, it wasn't a challange. We geek Ackham in retaliation, that puts _us_ in the wrong, and opens _us_ up for reprisals. It blows _our_ cred."

Maeva copied Sebastians gesture, adding the soft glow of her eyes to his as she regarded Jet calmly.

"We look out for each oher around here, Jet. That includes stopping one another when we think someone's about to do something they'll regret down the road. I've no intention, nor desire to escalate this."

As she spoke, she calmly unholstered her sidearm, set the safety with her smartlink and removed the clip. Setting the clip on the table - the top bullet in it obviously not a gel round - to emphasize she were not interested in a fight, she returned the gun to its holster and offered Jet a grin.

"Besides, one of us has to look good in a tight leather outfit to draw attention to ESS tonight. If you do anything to hurt me, you've the longest legs among the lieutenants and get the task by default."

Jet breathed heavily, shoulders rising up and down with every breath. Staring alternately down at Sebastian and at Maeva. Their eye covers really pissed him off. Made them look like zombie movie extras...Sebastian had spoken, though, and Sebastian's word was the law. He uncurled his fists, revealing bloody nail imprints on his palm. He took another breath, and sighed, quickly shedding most of his anger.

"Fine, Sebastian. You have a point. Even though Ackham didn't tell Dek exactly what they were racing for, and even though the whole gang is a bunch of crazy bastards that we'd probably get medals for taking out, you have a point.", Jet says tiredly. He watches Maeva's little pistol demonstration with raised eyebrows, then smiles slightly at her party comment.

"Maeva, if I didn't do anything to you when you put that scratch in Ghidorah, I won't do anything to you now."

K-Bob watches the pissing match with interest, then goes to help Luis pack it in.
I'll ask the boss about Dek's memorial later.

Nodding as K-Bob walks up, "What you thinkin there K?"

“I think I’d like a beer...” K-Bob looks at the human, wondering; Do I trust him?
“… then a shower, and after tonight’s show, I’m gonna have a few more for Dek – maybe with Jet.”
The ork takes the full measure of the human again and seems to make a decision.
“You wanna have a few too?”

"Beer? That sounds like a damn fine idea."
Something Jet said earlier clicks into place and Luis places a call via his jack and transducer, Jinxie girl, we'll have to make a slight change in plans, some nosy neighbors moved in. I'll call you when I can..

"Hey, when are you getting your bike wired anyway? It's dangerous out there with no comm channels. The crew doesn't know squat about what's going on in your bike when you pull in, that can cost us a few seconds if we aren't careful. If you want, I can put together something, it can give you a few channel, plus send us the diagnostic data we need."

As the last of the tools are wiped and tucked away, Luis climbs into the rig and fires up the diesel, announcing to his riders that time is approaching.

Sebastian leans back as the tension in the rooms winds down. "I didn't say it wasn't a stinking pile of drek, but it's rarely a good idea to act in the heat of the moment. Geeking Ackham would make a lotta problems for us, and solve none. Try and keep it cool, Jet. That'll save a lot of problems in the long run."

K-Bob approaches Luis before the big truck pulls away. “’Bout that radio, I can’t pay for it, but I can let you hold my shotgun ‘till I can repay you.” He looks up into the truck with the question plain in his eyes.
Luis has seen the shotgun in question, a Mossburg CMDT that has seen better days, but has been well taken care of – it just has been well used.

"K-Bob, I'm not a bank, I'd like to think I'm your friend. I'll see what I can do about a radio, and you repay me if and when you can. That beast is best left where it is, in your hands."

Seeing that those that were riding with him were finally aboard and strapped in, Luis starts to roll the rig out of the pit and back to the garage.

K-Bob’s afternoon is a blur – a quick stop at McHugh’s for a couple of burgers on the way back to the garage, a beer to wash it all down, a shower, fresh change of clothes – then off to the show.

Driving the rig back to the garage, Luis has the new guys answer questions about cars, more to pass the time and to bond than anything else. Though while they stumble for the more escoteric answers, he places another call to Jinx. Holá, Jinx, I'll be ordering some noodles sometime tomorrow, I'm sure you know of a good delivery person. Also, got another order for you m'dear. I need a good radio, like the one you got for me a year ago, same specs, but the normal type, not the pint size. I also need a sub-voc for it and the parts to connect it to a bike. I know it takes time for that, but we have time. That order can come through the normal channels to the garage. That business concluded, he pulls into the garage ahead of schedule.
His crew knows the tasks that need doing, and like an oiled machine they hop to, fueling the rig, putitng the tools that were taken to the track back in place and the output from the data analysys is put on Luis' desk.
"Anyone asks, I'm at my doss, getting ready for tonight."

Walking to his commuter POS with his breifcase in tow, he jacks in and makes his way to his apartment. Spending the remainder of the afternoon with a workout and a late lunch, he calls Sebastian "Boss, there a dress code for tonight?" As the coversation carries on, he pulls some mourning bands from his military drawer, one for each of the Lieutenants and the Boss.

Jet keeps his mouth shut and fumes silently in a corner as the others leave.

If I'm going to get rid of Ackham, I'll have to race him for it...But I can't beat a monster like that. Dek's bike was pretty fast. Faster than mine. I wonder..., he thinks.

Jet stands up, and walks over to his bike, flipping out his cellphone on the way. He dials up Mickey, his cop friend. Getting his voicemail, he leaves a message asking him for a meeting tomorrow at <some bar>.

Jet lifts his bike back up, pulls his helmet on, and zips down to his apartment. He fixes himself a 151 and coke, takes a shower and gels his short hair into spikes. He puts on some nice clothes for a change, a pair of black slacks and a dark blue silk shirt, sleeves rolled up and collar unbuttoned to show off some chest. He fixes himself another 151 and coke, heads off to the carshow, and waits for the other lieutenants to show up.