havocfett said:
Blandy is taking the Impossible Route
Ravana, Chandra, Harmeet, Rax, Cyborg, Ilana and Marcelina are taking the manufactory
Well, we're officially blander than Blando McBlanderson. We're taking the same route as his damn fangirl. I hope you're all happy! We could have spent our extra successes on slapping some Hazard on him and getting his shiny overpimped ride blown out of the sky. Instead, we're going to have to actually
beat people at flying rather than just trusting to absurd luck, and what kind of racer's ethic is that?!
[x] Channel 4 Dot Principle (Indrajit. Costs one Willpower)
Given our current goal, I can't help but feel that Indrajit-channels will be more useful down the line than Fly-channels, but Indrajit's an easier stunt here, and I don't know how many more legs are left in this race, or how often we can regain channels.
In any case, we've already beat the difficulty with three threshold successes (Diff3, 4 sux, +2 sux from Get Dangerous), so any dice from Principles and Stunts are a lovely bonus rather than a necessity to staying alive.
........
Ravana can practically feel his luck straining under the pressure of who-knows-how-many near misses. Actually, that might be his ship straining, which (given that he doesn't
need luck) is rather more worrying. How long can it keep up this kind of pace?
Blando Blandy of the O'Blandy clan shoots him a challenging smirk before swerving off toward a cramped, twisted and frankly suicidal shortcut, clearly intending to beat the race's current star at his own daredevil game. With that open challenge, as blatant as blasters at dawn, Ravana's mind is made up... and with the subdued grace of a falling leaf, he curves off on an entirely different, far more conventional route. He can just imagine the look on that guy's face when he realizes no-one's bothered to follow him into that deathtrap. If he's lucky, there'll be close-ups available when they sell the track-camera recordings. If he's
really lucky, Blando won't even come out the other side.
Haliax Manufactory is ahead, an industrial ant hive, built into and between the battered cliff-faces like a particularly ugly breed of mould. Old pics suggest most of the larger buildings used to be white and smooth, part of some "blanque chic" amongst the leaders of industry, but there's no trace of that anywhere - acrid fumes eroded and stained when the place was running, and slum-dwellers scavenged and repurposed when it died.
Even now Ravana can see little forms scurrying between shacks and great hollow engine-corpses, looking for cover from the oncoming race. Or possibly a good viewing spot - that was always his priority back in the day, even as Indrajit urged him to find an intact section of sewer and lie low. Now he's back, this time swooping through the air on wings of fire and metal.
The urge to grin and wave rises up, and Ravana doesn't bother resisting, merrily tacking between the rusted towers of factory chimneys that stick out at every angle. This route's not hugely dangerous if you're not blind or panicking, but it's still more interesting than just gunning it in a straight line for a couple of hundred miles. The main threat comes from the other racers, which is why it's wiser to stick to the edges. The obstacles are slightly denser, but the factories break up line of sight, making firefights a tricky prospect.
Ravana's nostalgic good mood is interrupted by a sudden screeching retort of blaster fire. A glance shows it's not aimed his way. In fact, it doesn't seem to be aimed at anyone... until the smoke clears, revealing the silhouette of Rax's ship, like a particularly aerodynamic lobster had a torrid affair with a pack of razor blades, its guns visibly charging for another shot. His target? The sprawl of patchwork shacks between the central factories. Anyone with half a brain will have already tried to head for sturdier cover, but Ravana remembers being refused entry to a strong shelter dug into the cliff face at least once, slum strongmen guarding the doors and charging for safety. Someone almost certainly died down there. What's Rax even trying to do?
The answer's a cold finger on the back of Ravana's neck. Lobster-boy's calling him out. Has to be. The guy probably knows Ravana's from around here - hell, he might have let it slip himself while smack-talking - and after that stunt with Abhas he's gambling that the race leader will give up a bit more of a lead to pull another bit of heroic sacrifice stupidity. That'd be clever if it weren't totally sociopathic. Fucking aliens, seriously.
Ravana could let it go, play it safe, make it through with nary a scratch... but Indrajit would never forgive him, even if he busted him out. This slum was their home, and Indrajit stayed to fight for it even when Ravana was headed for the skies. Honestly, Indrajit would make his brother's life a lot easier if he were just a bit more of a bastard. Time to take the bait.
Darting out into the open, Ravana rises almost to the limits of what the course allows, the open space letting him accelerate like no-one else in this section of the course. Of course, it also opens him up to fire from the lobster and cybitch alike. His grin returns, savage this time, as he roars through great steaming clouds of vented smog, clouding his position for brief precious moments each time, dodging obscured obstacles on memory alone. They think this place is their ally? Ravana was
born in the slums. Moulded by them. He didn't reach the skies until he was practically a man, and by then it was nothing but...
...freedom.