#racing partners have to be quick on their wheels and be the engines extra set of eyes and sometimes bodyguard

[nauticaltrain]

can't have one without the other

[straykidsscribbles]

Little Red Robbing Hood

Summary: Best thief in your generation. Heiress to a powerful mafia family. And kind of, on and off best friend to one Seo Changbin, who knows you way too well.

Fairytale AU, based on Little Red Riding Hood; Mafia Au; Female reader; Fluff with the lightest hint of angst 

Genre: Seo Changbin x reader 

Word Count: 11,878 words

Warnings: Violence, profanity, and a bit of blood. 

Happy very belated birthday to her majesty Queen Ruby @changbeanie, I adore you to the stars and back again.

“The line’s secure. You’re free to jump, Red.” 

A small smirk crept over your lips as you took a few quick steps away from the edge of the open window. This would be the easiest heist you’d ever pulled. Pride always goes before a fall. If they wanted to keep such a pretty, pretty painting, they should have guarded it better. 

“Thought you’d never give me the all clear Black.” 

“Oh, you know me, triple checking the wire that’s holding up your whole weight. Your grandmother would murder me if I let you die Red.” 

“She has faith in my skills. You’re just the worry wart.” 

A deep breath. 

In. 

Out. 

You took off, legs pumping until you hit the edge of the window and soared out into the air, nothing between you and the ground.

Nothing that is, except for the wire attached to the climbing harness you wore. 

The wire jerked as it took your weight and stabilized, over five hundred feet in the air. You swung around and grabbed hold of it with your right hand. Tapping the goggles protecting your eyes, you scanned the wall in front of you. 

The goggles immediately flashed, and a number popped up in the corner. 

43. Perfect. 

“Black, I’m good to go. You can get the engine running for me.” 

“Copy Red. Driver’s seat for you?” 

“Well, you do have good taste in wheels. Why not? Now shut up and let me concentrate.” A plate of inch thick glass stood between you and the security system protecting your target. It was the first obstacle in your route to the final piece of Van Gogh’s Wheat Field with Cypresses left in private collections. 

The other two would be easy to steal; museum security was nothing to a professional thief. This one required a little more finesse, which is why you were tasked with the job. 

“I didn’t know master thieves needed to concentrate. You were born into the mafia; weren’t you stealing your dad’s gold cufflinks off his suits for fun at four?” 

Who had even told him that story? You gritted your teeth as a gust of wind buffeted you. This was not the time for distractions; the glass cutter in your hand was sharp enough to cut off a finger if you weren’t careful, and you weren’t in the mood to be bleeding all over whichever fancy car your partner picked out for you. 

“If I lose a finger because of you I will make you pamper me for my entire convalescence,” you hissed, the sensitive microphone on your earpiece catching your words over the rushing of the wind. He really just does not know when to shut up does he? 

Your partner simply hummed in response, clearly abiding by your request for silence. You bit your lip as the glass cutter made its way back around and completed cutting out a circle from the window. 

Slipping the glass cutter into a pocket on your belt, you pushed off from either side of the little circle. Your body swung out into the air, suspended only by the wire disappearing into the open window a few floors above. Like a pendulum you swung back, legs out and braced to hit the glass. 

A surprisingly soft tinkle of glass shards filled your ears as you fell into the room. Taking a few steps forward to maintain your balance, you pivoted in the center of the room. No one in here with me, both sides clear. Looks like our intel was right. 

“I’m in. Give me three minutes to make the switch and drop it down to you.” 

“Yes Red.” 

You padded over to the wall looming at your right, dim lighting making the painting hanging on it glow softly. “You are one elusive little picture aren’t you.” You whispered as you unclipped the large frame that hung from your hip. 

Small metal discs imbedded in the wall where the bottom two corners of the painting were resting acted as pressure sensors. Once the painting was removed, you’d only have five seconds to press the other one in place at exactly the same pressure. Even the slightest millipascal of extra pressure and alarms would fill the entire building. 

Still, you were the best thief in your generation for a reason. Some of it was genetics and family talent, yes, but the rest of it? Pure skill and practice.

Light fingers swept over the beautiful canvas, tracing the edge of the frame as you took one quick breath. Then, in the space of a heartbeat you pushed the edge of the Van Gogh away from the wall and onto the ground, cushioning its fall with your left toe. With your right hand you slipped the replacement frame, carefully measured to be the exact same weight and size, into place. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. 

Your heartbeat was racing in your ears, but you still heard the slight click of the pressure plates locking back into place, as though absolutely nothing had happened. 

A slow smirk spread over your lips, one sharp canine digging into your lip as you bent down to pick up the painting and slide it into a carrying case. You’d be gone before they even realized anything was missing. 

You sauntered back over to the open window, shoes making only the slightest crunch as you stepped on the shattered remains of the windowpane. Reclipping the harness, you tapped a button on the winch and let it yank you upwards. 

This is the best feeling in the world. The thought came to your mind unbidden, but the more you considered it the more you realized it was true. The wind rushing through your hair, the exhilaration of a successful mission, the adrenaline of an escape waiting for you–this was the life you were meant for. 

“Black, target acquired. My car better be ready.” 

“I knew you’d get it. And please Red, when have I ever let you down. Your car is waiting downstairs, the valet has the key. And I’m up on the roof to get rid of anyone who might try to follow you.” 

You slipped into the open window of your own suite and began untangling yourself from the harness, pushing everything back into a small black suitcase. “Thanks Black.” 

“Only the best for you Red. Can’t wait for our next date.” 

“Me neither. Always a pleasure working with you. Red out.”

You pulled out the earpiece and squished it between two fingers before burying it inside a tiny house plant resting on the desk. The tech would degrade and disappear within a few hours, leaving no trace of your whereabouts, and nothing the police could gain any evidence from. 

Suitcase in one hand, painting in the other, you swept out of the suite and down to the bottom floor, where the car your partner had promised you was waiting. The sleek black Audi shone in the light from the lobby’s chandelier and you suppressed a little sigh. 

He really does have good taste in cars. 

Taking the keys from the valet, you slipped into the driver’s seat and sped off towards the airport. 

Mission accomplished. 

---

Four hours later, the unfortunate owner of Wheat Field with Cypresses reentered his suite only to find glass on the floor and an entirely different painting sitting in the middle of the wall. 

Four stark red letters on a plain black background stood out as the man stared in horror. 

L R R H

Little Red Robbing Hood. 

He’d been robbed. 

---

“Mother, it’s too early for this!” you grumbled as you picked up the phone lying next to your bed. “I just gave you the painting yesterday!”  

“Yes, well, this can’t wait. I have another assignment for you.”

You sat up and rubbed your eyes tiredly. The planning for the painting heist had taken ages, and you were completely ready to just sleep for the whole day. 

Unfortunately, your mother had other ideas. 

“Lately, NCT has been gathering far too much power. They’ve set up different accounts all over the world to split up their finances and make sure that no matter what happens they have something to fall back on.” 

“What does that matter to us? We’re way stronger than they are.” 

“____, what have I always told you? Overconfidence is why so many mafia families fall. We know better than that–it’s why we’re so powerful years after our contemporaries died off.” 

Your family had started their network almost three hundred years ago, and every other mafia family from that time had slowly lost their power or been absorbed into a new family that rose up and took them over. Yours had survived because of their adaptability and attention to minutiae–no detail was unimportant enough to overlook. 

When most of the other mafia families had been patriarchal, yours had become matriarchal when your great-grandfather only had a daughter. Rather than bringing someone in from outside, he trained his daughter to keep the traditions of the family alive. 

Others had scoffed, saying there was no way a woman could handle the day to day running of the mess of madness, backstabbing, and treachery that was the underground crime network. But your grandmother had thrived in it, and your mother after her. 

And now here you were, best thief of your generation and heir apparent. 

Adaptability and meticulousness. That was what kept your family alive and in power. 

That and a few carefully placed assassinations, take overs, and thefts when necessary. All for the greater good of course. 

“Alright fine Mother, what do you need me to do?” 

“Well, after your little painting heist this should be easy enough for you. There’s going to be a tradeoff with information regarding the accounts and plans of NCT in Singapore. I want you to be there for that tradeoff.” 

“And I take the information, which I’m assuming is on some sort of flash drive?” 

“Yes. If you somehow manage to cause a little dissent within their ranks and make it seem like they betrayed each other, well, so much the better. From Singapore, you have a flight straight to Rome, and then from Rome to London where you will deliver the information to your grandmother. She’s expecting you in five days.” 

“When is the tradeoff?” 

“At nine pm, near the Elgin Bridge. You’ll see them.” 

“Alright Mother. I’ll check in once I have the drive.” 

---

The flight to Singapore had been short, and the use of your family’s private jet certainly had made things easier. You were completely prepped and ready to go; touristy outfit to blend with the crowd, tiny stun gun hidden in your pocket, and a set of earrings that could be pinched together to act as a miniature explosive. 

Gadgets were a bit of a weakness for you. But they had saved your life on numerous occasions, so could you really be blamed? 

You scanned the crowd, looking around for anyone who might seem out of place. No one yet, maybe I’m early. 

You dug through your bag, pulling out a large camera with a zoom lens; naturally, it would look as though you were just taking pictures when in fact you were watching the area under the bridge for suspicious activity. 

Ten minutes passed without anything happening, and you were beginning to feel a little nervous. Had your mother’s intel been wrong? Had someone set you up? The rushed timing had ensured you came without backup; what if this was an ambush?

And then, you saw two men standing at the edge of the bridge, hands held protectively over their waists where presumably they had guns hidden away. 

You rolled your eyes. This is almost too easy. 

One of the men began walking towards the middle of the bridge, where a third man in a black suit stood, a briefcase leaning against the railing of the bridge. You watched carefully through the zoom lens as the third man shook hands with the first, slipping him the small flash drive. 

Target acquired. Now for a little pickpocketing. 

The first man walked back towards his companion, slipping the flash drive into a pocket without pausing. You put away your camera and began walking towards them as well, hands swinging carelessly as though you were simply enjoying the fresh air and light breeze after a humid day of sightseeing. 

Three. 

Two.

One. 

You brushed against your target, slipping your fingers gently into his pocket and slowly withdrawing them, the flash drive tucked into the palm of your hand. You kept walking naturally, hands swinging still, before you passed through a crowd of tourists which blocked you from view. 

Time to disappear. You slipped the tiny yet extremely valuable piece of metal into a side pocket and twisted your jacket inside out so that the red lining was now on the outside. If anyone was looking for a thief in a black and white jacket, they’d never think it was you. 

However, you didn’t see the third man watching from his side of the bridge. The flash of red from your jacket caught his eye and he stared as you made your way over to the nearest bus stop and clambered onto the first bus that passed. 

He couldn’t be sure, but there was something very familiar about you. 

Familiar, and suspicious. 

---

“Hi mom, I picked up a nice new silver mirror for you! I’m on my way to the airport now actually, so I should be on the flight home really soon.” You started speaking before your mother could, making sure that it was obvious you were out in public. 

“Alright ____, thank you. What time is your flight leaving again?” Or rather, do you know what flight you’re taking?

“No, actually, can you check? I think the flight number is CP753.” 

“Oh, you’re leaving at 9:43. If you need anything just call me okay?” 

“I will Mother. See you soon!” You tapped your phone and ended the call. Your mother had set up a flight whose number ended in 943. The time of departure would be easy enough to find out when you arrived at the airport. All you had to do was pick up your things from the airport storage you’d left your suitcase in. 

The familiar routine of heading to the airport, getting your things, and finding your flight on the large tv screens mounted on the wall slowly lulled you into a false sense of security. Everything appeared to be completely normal. The crowded airport was no more empty than usual; there were at least two families and three business executives headed towards the same terminal as you–you couldn’t see anything wrong.

But you couldn’t ignore the chill heading up your spine as you waited for your sandwich at one of the airport bistros. Something inside you, some sixth sense, some weird feeling made you feel like there was someone watching you. 

A malevolent presence, hovering at the edge of your awareness. 

Maybe we shouldn’t have rushed, even if it was important. Maybe we should have waited for a better opportunity, or better backup. 

Paying for your sandwich you grabbed the handle of your suitcase and pulled it after you, continuing the trek to your gate. 

There was no point in worrying now. If someone was following you, they knew where you were headed by now. The only thing you could do was wait and try and lose them in Rome. 

I hope I’m wrong. 

---

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going through a little bit of turbulence here. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.” The voice of one of the air hostesses rang out over the speakers. 

You wiped your hands with a paper towel and pushed open the door to the tiny bathroom, making your way slowly down the narrow aisle back to your seat. A loud popping noise broke the silence as the little seatbelt light came on, and it woke up a small baby in the middle row. 

Great. Now I have to deal with a noisy crying baby on top of everything. 

As you brushed past a seat, the man sitting there looked up and his eyes met yours.

A shiver ran up your spine. The look in his eyes was malevolent, cruel, utterly heartless. The man had dead eyes, and the little smile curling the edge of his lips could only mean trouble for you.

Why else would someone like that show up on your flight? A million thoughts racing through your mind, you settled back into your seat and pulled the blanket they’d given you closer to you. 

35,000 feet in the air, what else could you do besides wait. Wait and wait and wait and wait for something to happen. 

Behind you, the baby hiccupped and sobbed loudly. Nausea rose in your throat as the plane rolled, sending your stomach through a whirlwind. 

And now I’m ready to throw up. Wonderful. How the fuck do I live with this? You rubbed the inside of your wrist, trying to force the awful feeling to recede. 

Only partially successful, you settled further into your seat. Right now, you just wanted to get off this plane before someone stuck a knife between your ribs. 

---

The second you stepped off the plane in Rome you knew your earlier feeling had been right. There was someone following you, and it was the terrifying man who’s smile had so unnerved you earlier. 

Oh crap why did this have to happen to me? What do I do how the fuck do I get out of this I have no back up and literally no supplies except for what’s on me. ____, good luck getting out of this you’re in really deep trouble this time. 

You saw a small sign for a restroom up ahead and you immediately took a deep breath and ducked inside. Fingers slightly shaky after the long flight, you pulled out your phone and immediately dialed your mother’s number. 

Four rings later, she picked up, voice clipped with irritation. “Yes ____, what’s wrong? I’m extremely busy right now, things have gotten crazy all over east Asia.” 

“Some of that might be my fault. Because I didn’t have backup or more time to prepare, I wasn’t able to make sure things were secure. 

The silence on the phone was deafening. You cringed a little as you waited for your mother’s response. While you were one of the most dangerous individuals in the criminal underworld, your mother was still more dangerous, and you hated disappointing her. 

“Well. This can’t be helped. Are you in Rome now ____?”

“Yes.” You tapped your foot on the tiled floor, waiting for her response. 

“Alright, one of our best wolves is in Athens right now. He’ll meet you at the Trevi Fountain tonight. You need to make sure you are staying in public spaces and being as unobtrusive as possible. Join a tour group and stay with them, blend in with the thousands of other tourists and appear as normal as you can.” 

“Don’t worry Mother, I’m not hopeless.” Already you felt a little better now that you knew you had backup coming and no one blamed you for your little mistake. The weight on your shoulders felt a great deal lighter, less overwhelming now that you had a plan. 

“I know you aren’t. But a mother worries no matter how capable and smart her daughter is.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. Your mother cared about you, yes, but the mafia life wasn’t really the best place for touchy-feely displays of affection. Things must be really bad; that’s why she’s being so uncharacteristically soft. 

“You’ll recognize the wolf on sight, you worked with him on your last mission. He is the only one you can trust at this point alright?” 

Wolves were the secondary leaders in the mafia, right underneath the hereditary leaders like you and your family. They were given the title of wolf once they had proven themselves as loyal protectors and skilled fighters, much like actual wolves. They led in every situation not important enough to require the attention of one of the family, and they were the ones responsible for making sure your family was always safe. 

They were the most loyal operatives, their clan ties to yours stretching back to when your family was first making a name for themselves. 

And this particular wolf was the person you trusted most outside of your immediate family. Having him as a partner again would make everything easier, and you wouldn’t even have to worry about dealing with an unknown player. 

He’s trustworthy and… safe. Always safe. 

“Yes Mother. It’ll be nice to see Black again.” 

“At this point, no codenames as well. Use your real names; someone might have overheard your codenames and your real names are safer. You’re simply ____ to him, and he’s Changbin to you.”

Well. This would be interesting. No more Red jokes. He’s been calling me that for years, it’ll be weird not to hear it. 

“Understood. I’ll check in once we meet.” 

“Only by text ____. You cannot afford to call me again, even now you don’t know who could be listening. Changbin will have access to some supplies for you to restock, and you will have to make your own way to your grandmother, is that understood?”

“Yes Mother. As you wish.” 

“Good luck ____. Stay safe.” 

The phone clicked off before you had a chance to say anything else. 

You shoved the phone inside your bag. As things stood now, you couldn’t afford to get rid of it; you didn’t have the resources to replace it, even if it was a security risk. 

Placing your palms on the cool stone sink you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Dark circles rimmed your eyes, the result of the long sleepless flight and the constant fear that someone was watching you. Even now, inside the bathroom, your shoulders were tense with anxiety. 

What if I don’t last until Black– Changbin– comes? You had to remind yourself that your old color codenames were not to be used. Years ago, you’d decided on those nicknames as a group with a few of your fellow younger agents, each of you picking a color for a heist in Switzerland. The names had stuck long after that mission, and not using them would definitely take a little effort. 

Still, you liked the sound of Changbin’s real name. Using it felt somewhat more intimate than using his codename; many of your friends knew his codename but only those closest to him knew his real name. 

“Come on ____, you got this. You’re the best thief of your generation you can damn well make it to a rendezvous.” Splashing some cold water on your face, you tightened your hands into fists. 

Someone might be after you, but if they expected to get you easily, they were just about to be proven grievously wrong. 

---

Soft sounds of someone strumming a guitar filled the night air as you sat on the cool marble of the Trevi Fountain. Despite your fears the day had passed relatively painlessly; the bus ride into the city and ambling around the cobblestone streets soaking up the history behind a tour group had been almost fun, if you let yourself forget about the reason you were there. 

Unfortunately, the malevolent presence you’d sensed in Singapore was still hovering somewhere nearby, even if you couldn’t see anyone tailing you. 

Where is Changbin and why isn’t he here yet? Is he planning on having me die all dramatically in his arms? 

No, Mama would never forgive him, and he idolizes her too much to do that. Honestly, sometimes it’s like she’s his grandmother, not mine. 

You shook the errant thoughts out of your head, choosing instead to focus on scanning the crowd for Changbin. The sun had set almost an hour previously and the fountain was glowing with lights from within, highlighting both the carved marble and the people admiring it. 

Where was he even? 

The pasta you’d had for lunch seemed like a meal from years ago. You’d been waiting long enough; you needed food at this point. You dug through your bag, searching for the savory pastry you’d bought earlier for a snack. The little packet of dough, herbs, and vegetables was bright on your tongue, giving you a little energy and brightening your mood. 

But the fear that he’d been discovered too, and people were lying in wait to capture you and take the pretty silver drive tucked in your inner pocket kept you from enjoying your food. 

If NCT didn’t capture and kill you, the anxiety would instead. 

---

Changbin stared out from the shadow of a building, cap pulled low over his eyes. His gaze skimmed the crowd, looking for your familiar figure. 

He’d been hiding for a while, having already taken out one of the operatives tailing you. He had spotted you earlier as you were eating, illuminated by the glow of the fountain that seemed to light you up with a glow that made Changbin’s heart stutter a little when he looked at you. 

His eyes, while drawn to you like magnets, still noticed the dark figure in all black that was watching you from the gelato shop opposite. 

Changbin’s wolf training kicked in almost immediately. Someone was threatening one of his teammates, his friends– he wasn’t about to let the man anywhere near you. 

He crept up behind the man and tapped his shoulder to get his attention, smiling benignly before yanking him backwards into an alley and taking him out with two quick punches to the temple and jaw. Surveillance now taken care of; he could focus on making sure the area was secure before approaching you. 

And now, after another half an hour of searching, Changbin was certain no one else was watching you aside from him. He pushed up his cap and let a smirk play across his lips. 

Sure will be nice seeing _____ again. She always looks cute when she’s startled. 

He sauntered up to you from behind, hands jammed into his pockets and headphones swinging around his neck. 

“Hey Princess, made a wish yet?” 

A tiny gasp escaped you as you whirled around and almost fell against Changbin. His arms came up almost reflexively and held you tightly against him, making sure you weren’t about to fall over into the fountain. 

“Fucking finally Bin, you took forever. I thought you were going to stand me up.” Your words were carefree and blasé, but Changbin heard the faint quiver in your voice. 

The hours of stress, of waiting for someone to come, of fear that in the next second a bullet would somehow end up in your skull, of one of the most turbulent flights you’d experienced in a while all swept over you as you stood there tucked against Changbin. His arms cradled you gently, spreading warmth throughout your body, swaying with you as he hugged you like you were the most important person in the entire universe.

“As if I’d ever stand you up. Now come on, we’re staying pretty nearby.” He lowered his head slightly so that his lips were just brushing your ear. “The man who was watching you earlier will have a pretty bad headache when he wakes up, not to mention that he’ll be getting severely punished for losing you.”

Already a grin crept across your face as you reached down to grab your suitcase, still holding Changbin’s arm with your other hand. “Thanks Bin.” 

“Always ____. Always.” 

---

The walk back to the little apartment was quiet; exhaustion poured over you in waves as you tried to stay upright. Changbin clutched your suitcase in one hand, the other clasped around yours to give you some sort of support as you made your way between the brightly colored houses. 

He stopped soon after in front of a door with an ornate bronze knocker. Digging through his pocket, Changbin pulled out a small key and slipped it into the lock, pushing the door open. 

“We’re on the top floor, with roof access in case we need to get out in a hurry. We shouldn’t need to though, this safehouse was set up by my dad.” 

Grumbling under your breath, you climbed up the two narrow flights of stairs that led up to the loft apartment. Changbin pressed his thumb against the doorknob and waited for the fingerprint recognition to work. He then tapped in a quick code on the keypad revealed in a panel in the door and it finally swung open. 

“There’s a shower in there, and I brought some stuff for you if you need clothes to change into.” Changbin went over to another suitcase waiting inside the little apartment and pulled out a plain black t-shirt and gray sweats. 

Taking the proffered clothes, you slipped inside the bathroom. The heat and pounding of the hot water washed away some of the tension still coiled inside your muscles, leaving you limp with exhaustion. You let the water wash over you, losing all sense of time, enjoying the relief of focusing on one sensation without having to worry about who might come after you while your guard was down. 

Changbin was outside, and you trusted him to keep you safe. 

Finally, you turned off the water; sleeping in an actual bed would probably result in a lower risk of drowning that falling asleep in the shower, which you were certainly close to. Drying off quickly, you threw on the clothes Changbin had given you and tumbled out into the main room of the little studio apartment. 

“You look slightly more human.” One corner of Changbin’s lips quirked up as he looked up from the gun in his hand. A small bottle of liquid sat on the table next to him, and a stack of cotton scraps which he was using to clean and oil the metal. 

The smell was familiar in a way; Changbin always cleaned off his twin pistols before he slept, and you’d spent enough time with him to know his routine almost as well as your own. 

“I feel a hell of a lot more human. So, how are we getting to London?” You set down on the bed and leaned back against the pillows behind you, taking a deep breath as you sank into the plush warmth. 

Changbin tucked one gun next to his shoes and put the other on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. He sat down, the bed sinking slightly on his side as he turned to look at you. 

“Well, air travel is going to be a lot harder to manage because it’s a lot more regulated, and even if we call the jet, we’ll still have to file a flight plan. Boat would work but it would also take a long time, so we’ll go by train. We shouldn’t have any reason to get our passports checked as long as we’re within the EU, and then once we get to Calais, we can easily just take a boat over to England. It’ll be a lot more subtle, and we should be able to make it within the deadline.”

“Train? Really? Will it be fast enough?” 

“_____, Europe is tiny. If we take a train tomorrow morning, we’ll be in Paris by evening. From there it’s easy enough to get to Calais.” 

“If you’ve put so much thought into this, then how are we supposed to make sure no one follows us onto the train.” You crossed your arms over your chest, frowning thoughtfully. 

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take. The only thing is, there’ll be less regulation and so hopefully if things go sour, we’ll have an easier time escaping. That and, if we’re on a train we can get off in the middle, and that’s a hell of a lot easier than jumping out of a plane.” 

You nodded slowly, considering his plan. He did have a very good point; it would be easier to escape off a train. 

What choice do we have? At least this way we have a chance. 

“Fine. You’re right. Now come on, if we have to take a train I’m assuming we’ll have to be out of here early in the morning.” 

“Departure’s around 5 am Princess. You can finish up your beauty sleep on the train, I’ll even let you use my shoulder as a pillow.” He pulled one of the armchairs next to the bed and settled into it, eyes already beginning to close. 

“Good night.” 

You let the soft sound of Changbin’s steady breathing lull you to sleep.

---

Dark woods all around you.

Shadowy trees looming every direction you turned.

One path forward.

A break in the tree line, only to reveal clouds obscuring part of the glowing yellow full moon. 

A howl cutting through the air, making the back of your neck prickle with fear. 

A flash of mangy brown, and claws swiping through the red cloak you had wrapped around you. 

The basket in your hand falling, falling, falling.

Red splattering through the air.

Blood red. 

Painpainpainpainpain

Menacing shadows all around you.

Black warmth enveloping you, calling out your name.

“_____! _____! Wake up for fuck’s sake! _____!” Changbin’s voice broke through the dense fog of the nightmare that had captured every one of your senses. Heart racing, you opened your eyes only to make out his face close to yours, close enough for you to see the fear in his eyes. His hands clutched your arms, shaking you to try and rouse you from whatever horror you were seeing. 

The moonlight streaming through the window calmed you as your eyes adjusted and you realized where you were. Changbin was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard and holding you tightly against his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart under your ear, a little fast but still helping ground you. 

Breathing fast, you simply lay there for a moment. His arms wrapped around you, his cheek resting against the crown of your head.

Every time you closed your eyes you could still feel the sharp claws of the monster that had attacked you. 

Slowly, steadily, your breathing began to even out and you settled further into Changbin’s embrace. You slipped your arms around his torso, not ready to let him go just yet. 

“_____?” His voice was softer now, a gentle whisper rather than the sharp order it had been. “What happened Princess?”

“Bad dream.” You mumbled, embarrassed now that you were more awake. You were a professional thief and the heir to a mafia family; you were not supposed to get so freaked out by a nightmare of all things. 

“It must have been pretty bad, if you were screaming like that. Do you want to talk about it?” The gentle rasp of his voice was calming.

You sighed. He wouldn’t let this go without you telling him– Changbin was stubborn like that. “It’s probably because of the whole Little Red Robbing Hood thing people have been calling me lately. I don’t even know, it was weird. I was trapped in this forest and all the trees were like monsters. There was this mangy-looking, kind of flea-bitten brown wolf or dog or something that jumped at me and clawed me, and then a bunch more shadows were surrounding me or something and it was like this explosion of pain, I don’t even know.” 

“So, a wolf attacked you? In a dark forest? ____, that does sound like a fairytale. Maybe you need a break from all this. You’ve been going on so many heists and missions lately, no wonder you’re stressed.” 

“I guess.” You trailed off, not sure if you wanted to finish your tale. That somehow there had been a black wolf that had protected you, made you feel safe and warm and comforted and kept whatever pain you felt at bay. 

Changbin tapped the lamp next to you and a soft yellow glow filled the room. He looked down at you, dark eyes meeting yours unflinchingly, without the slightest hesitation. 

“You know, any monster, real or imaginary, would never be able to come near you if I was there. You have a wolf for protection after all.” 

At any other time, you would have felt shy at his direct statement. You might have laughed at his dramatic, even slightly romantic streak. Who used their ridiculous title as an actual declaration of protection? 

However, the way Changbin’s eyes were drilling into you made that all but impossible. 

If anything ever happened, he means it. He really would protect me with his life. 

Unable to muster up the words to respond to him, you simply nodded and curled your fingers into the fabric of his shirt. The little clock on the nightstand read 2:26 am and you could probably squeeze in another hour and a half of sleep before you had to leave. 

With the solid warmth of Changbin curled around you, you actually did have a chance of getting some proper rest this time. 

---

Changbin sighed as your breathing finally evened out, signaling that you were asleep. He traced a finger over your cheek, drawing a little heart on your skin as you slept. 

“What am I to do with you?” He whispered into the darkness. “You’re going to be the death of me.” 

He sighed softly, the puff of air escaping from his lips pushing a lock of hair away from your face. “I–”

I love you. But he didn’t have the courage to utter his thoughts aloud and make them real. 

The night would keep his secret for him; never telling you how much you meant to him. 

He was just a friend to you. Nothing more. He couldn’t aspire to be more with someone of your prestige and rank and skill. 

And if all he could do was give you a safe space to break down in and protect you to the best of his ability? That’s what he would do. 

You were too important to him; he wouldn’t risk the bond between you for anything. 

---

“Rise and shine Princess, you don’t want to miss the train, do you?” 

“I hate you.”

“Yeah I hate you too and look where we are now. If you don’t get up then we’re going to be stuck here for another twelve hours, and that’s twelve whole hours for NCT to get their shit together and find us.” 

“Are you ready?” You mumbled from underneath one of the pillows 

Changbin rolled his eyes. “For your information, I actually am. Unless you want me to show up at your grandmother’s house without you saying ‘Oh, ____ just wanted to sleep and that’s why I had to leave her behind’ I suggest you get going.” 

You grumbled but pushed yourself up, sitting on the bed. “Did you already pack all of my stuff?” 

“Yes, because I’m the best partner you’ll ever have.” 

“Questionable. Orange did a pretty great job last time.” 

“Jisung is talented but he’s got nothing on me.” Changbin threw a sleazy wink at you and laughed when you threw the pillow next to you at his head. 

You splashed water on your face and huffed at Changbin’s grin in the mirror. “His ego isn’t as ginormous as yours either.” 

“You love me even with my ginormous ego, so I think I win.” 

He meant it as a joke. Changbin always says stupid shit like that, it’s nothing new. 

“Keep telling yourself that Bin.” 

Somehow though, his words kept reverberating through your head. Now that the idea had been planted your head, you couldn’t help wondering. 

Would it be that hard to fall in love with him? 

You weren’t sure if the answer scared or excited you.

---

The train station was crowded despite the early hour; no doubt commuters and locals and jetlagged tourists were taking advantage of the cooler weather. You and Changbin stuck close together, hands brushing as you made your way to the platform. 

As you approached the train, you couldn’t help feeling like there was something watching you, something you could sense and feel but not actually see. 

A malevolent presence. 

You tugged on Changbin’s sleeve to get his attention. “Bin, I think our friends from last night might be somewhere around here.” 

“Fuck.” The curse escaped his lips as he glanced around. “Hopefully they don’t spot us, and the train gets away alright.” 

He reached over and pulled the hood of your yellow hoodie up over your head. Your heart gave a little thump as his fingers brushed the side of your cheek. “Come on, let’s go. We’re leaving in ten minutes anyways.” 

Changbin quickly busied himself with putting your suitcases in the storage rack, while you got your tickets out and kept things ready for the conductor to check. The sooner you left Rome, the better. 

Within a few minutes, you felt the train begin moving under you, the acceleration pushing you against the back of the seat. Changbin reached over and patted your hand, twining your fingers together and squeezing slightly. 

“You okay? We seem to be alright so far.” 

A sigh escaped your lips as you looked out of the window, the grand architecture of the city you’d gotten to spend far too little time in looming in the distance. 

“It’s just… I kind of wanted to have more time here. Maybe see the sights, go on more than just the one short day tour while constantly stressing about someone following me. It feels like I got cheated, you know? I came to Rome, of all places, and I barely got to see any of the history and architecture and art.”

One corner of Changbin’s lips quirked up. “Well, who knew Little Red Robbing Hood had such an interest in art beyond what’s easy to steal?” 

“Hey!” You hit his arm, hard. He didn’t have to tease all the time, did he? And mentioning that name in a public place was dangerous!

“How’s this Princess? If we get out of this alive, and your grandmother doesn’t kill me for displeasing her, I’ll take you to Rome for fun. No work, no missions, no targets. Just you, me, and whatever else you want.” 

You gulped at the look in his eyes. 

Warm. Soft. Heartfelt. A little cheeky. 

Loving?

He’s serious.

A chuckle escaped him as he leaned back against the seat. “Like I said though, that depends on us getting out of this alive. And for that, you’d probably want a bit of a nap. I promised you my shoulder, didn’t I?” 

He patted his right shoulder and you shook yourself out of the reverie that had overcome you. He was just messing around. I’m imagining things. It’s just being with someone who’s sort of cute and hot and knows me well. It’s the proximity is all. He doesn’t actually like me. 

Does he?

You scowled even as you settled into place, head resting against Changbin’s shoulder. He was warm and smelled of pine needles and something else, something you couldn’t place. 

Slowly, your eyes drooped shut and you fell asleep curled up against him, barely noticing the arm he wrapped around you as he pulled you closer to him. 

---

Not even two hours later, you were jolted awake by Changbin shaking your shoulder roughly. “_____, wake up. They found us. We have to move.” 

Your eyes flew open and you stifled a groan as you realized what he was talking about. Behind you, through the glass door connecting the compartments, you could make out two dark suited figures coming towards you. 

One of them looked all too familiar. The man from the plane, who had a bandage on his forehead where Changbin must have knocked him out earlier. He wasn’t smiling now; rather his face was twisted in a snarl. 

All too aware of the flash drive hidden inside your pocket, you reached down and grabbed Changbin’s hand, squeezing it tightly. While you had been asleep the compartment had emptied, and now its only occupants were the two of you. 

And of course, the two men from NCT. 

They approached you slowly, each one making his way down one aisle towards you. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small knife–a gun’s noise would attract far too much attention.

“Finally caught up with us hmmm? Took you long enough,” you quipped, rolling your eyes. 

“Give us the drive.” 

Changbin smirked at the man coming towards him. “Come and get it, if you can.” 

All at once, the tension in the compartment snapped. The man coming towards you leaped over the last row of seats and bore down on you, stabbing downwards at your hips. You twisted, avoiding the small blade and scoring a long shallow cut along the man’s sleeve, which protected his arm. 

He threw two quick punches at your head and you skipped out of reach, moving around him so that his back was against a window. As you slashed and feinted and blocked his blade, the wheels in your mind turned constantly. 

How do I get rid of this guy?

The red latch on the window caught the edge of your vision, and a little smirk slipped over your lips. Bingo.

You swung out with your left hand, hoping to distract your opponent, and with your right hand you grabbed the red handle and pulled. The window flew open, the glass falling out exactly as expected of an emergency exit. 

Hands flat against the man’s chest you shoved him once, hard, and he toppled out of the window as the idyllic countryside streaked by. 

He was gone in a moment. 

Panting, you turned back to Changbin, expecting to see him standing over the body of his opponent. 

Instead, his opponent had him in a headlock, arm tightening around Changbin’s neck and cutting off his air supply. The man brought his other hand closer and closer to Changbin’s neck, a small knife in his hand. 

He stopped with the cool metal cutting slightly into Changbin’s skin, holding him in place carefully. His eyes though, were fixed on you. 

“Well well well. Little Red Robbing Hood, caught at last.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say ‘caught’, but whatever asshole.”

The man shook his head ruefully. “Tsk tsk. You should be a little more polite. After all, I do have your wolf right here with a knife to his neck. I think I hold all the cards in this situation.” 

The knife in his hand cut into Changbin’s skin a little more, and a thin rivulet of red seeped out of the wound, staining the collar of Changbin’s shirt. Changbin’s eyes were panicked as he met yours, and his lips moved in the same way over and over, as though he was mouthing something to you. 

Leave me ____! Run! Leave me!

“Well, I can’t have you hurting him. So how about you let him go, and then we can talk about this in a more… civilized manner.” Despite your panting, you managed to keep an even tone. 

The man chuckled hollowly. “What’s there to talk about? You have three seconds to pass the drive to me, otherwise I will kill your little mangy runt. Fine job he did protecting you. You should join NCT, perhaps there we can outfit you with talent more suited to you.”

The knife moved closer and closer to the veins in Changbin’s neck, until you simply couldn’t bear it anymore. 

If he got hurt because of you, you’d never forgive yourself. 

“Stop! I’ll give you the drive. Just don’t hurt him.” 

You dug the little metal rectangle out of your pocket and slid it across the floor. The man smiled almost to himself, and then–

Changbin collapse sideways, falling onto a row of seats with a limp thud. The man reached down and grabbed the drive, shoving it into a pocket and immediately slipping out of your compartment.

It galled you that you couldn’t chase after him. 

But as you came level with Changbin’s limp figure on the seats, your heart jumped into your throat. 

The seat was covered in red. 

Blood red. 

Your signature color. 

Quick as a flash you were kneeling beside him, one hand cradling his face even as you tilted it upwards to trace over his neck. The cuts there were shallow, hesitant, only a threat. 

Where’s the blood coming from? 

“_____,” Changbin coughed. “My arm.” 

You unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt and slid the soft fabric off his shoulder, only to gasp. The man had stabbed Changbin’s arm and then yanked out the knife at a different angle, leaving blood dripping. 

“Fuck, this is bad.” You ran back to the seat where you’d been only a few minutes previously, digging through your suitcase and pulling out the first aid kit. 

You were not going to lose Changbin. Not to something as dumb as blood loss. Not to anything ever.

“Okay, Bin, I need you to try and sit up, if you can.” You reached around him and grasped his other arm, pulling him upright even as he swung his legs off the seat. “Now hold this against the cuts on your neck, I need to work on your arm first.” 

You quickly swabbed the whole wound with alcohol wipes and began wrapping it with gauze and tape, keeping it as tight as you could around Changbin’s bicep to restrict the blood flow. 

Changbin winced even as you finished up, his eyes soft despite the pain no doubt filling his senses. 

“You shouldn’t have done that _____. I’m not worth that drive, we all know the information on it is incredibly valuable.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I’m serious ______. You can’t tell me my life is worth more than that drive.” 

You tightened your hands, your bloodstained, shaking hands, into fists.

“Seo Changbin how fucking DARE you. Do NOT tell me what your life is worth. You have absolutely no idea how important you are and how much you’re worth to me. So shut the fuck up you idiot.” 

“I—”

“Did you not just hear me tell you to shut up.” Kneeling in front of him, you grasped his chin in one hand, fingers gentle despite the anger still coursing through your veins. You tilted his head up, wiping off the cuts on his neck and placing bandages on each of them as well. 

Changbin winced as you finished, turning back to look at you.

“You know they’ll be long gone with that thing. We need to get it back.” 

“I know we need to get it back. Do you really think I’m that stupid?” 

Changbin chuckled, then immediately raised a hand to his neck as the movement pulled at the tape. “Well, you did just give them the drive.” 

He was infuriating. You were just about to smack his arm when you caught yourself. A pout stole over your lips even as you spoke. “You’re lucky you’re injured; you get a free pass.” You changed the movement to a light brush of your fingers against his skin, tracing the line of his muscles and the edge of the gauze.

The moment hung in the air, tense and yet comfortable at the same time. The banter between you was normal, but the concern for each other that was normally buried under five layers of sarcasm and six of wit was now well out in the open. 

There was no way he could mistake the look in your eyes.

There was no way you could mistake the look in his. 

“Well, I guess I am lucky.” Changbin broke the silence between you. “I mean, I do have a pretty girl basically sitting in my lap, holding my arm, and stroking my neck.” 

You almost choked, scrambling off his lap in an instant. “I was making sure the gauze was in place! And you still have blood on your neck you dumb-dumb. Planning on getting that off yourself?” 

The moment was broken, but you still felt heat suffusing your cheeks. Only Changbin could get you so riled up with such ease. 

“I did say I was lucky, didn’t I? Maybe if I’m luckier you’ll kiss them all better.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Clearly not, you did just save my life and trade an extremely valuable object for my safety.”

“Shut up and put this on.” You dug around in his bag and pulled out a hoodie, throwing it at his head. “You have until we arrive in Paris to start feeling better.” 

“Awwww Princess, you do care. You know what would make me feel better almost instantly?” 

Ignore him. You have work to do.

“A kiss. One right here—” he pointed to his arm like a petulant toddler, complete with pout and all. “—and one here, and one right here.” 

“Your lips aren’t injured Bin.” 

“Damn. Maybe I should have gotten that guy to punch me too.”

“You are so lucky I have to figure out this tracker and I can’t pay attention to you.”

---

Changbin lay back against the pillows in your little hotel room in Paris, finally clean and freshly bandaged after the harrowing train ride into the city. You were still seated at the desk, fingers clacking on the keyboard much as they had been for the past four hours, aside from regular breaks to check on Changbin’s injuries. 

“What are you even working on?” he mumbled sleepily, eyes half closed as he cuddled into the pillows. 

You waved a hand in his direction, trying to get him to shut up before he broke your concentration. A few more clicks and… perfect. 

The laptop hummed as you turned back to Changbin and padded over to the bed, sitting down on a corner. “If you didn’t keep interrupting me, I’d have gotten done a hell of a lot sooner. But anyways, you don’t think I would have given them the drive without some way to get it back.” 

Understanding dawned on Changbin, even in his sleepy, pain medication-induced daze. “You put a tracker on the drive.” 

“Exactly. And, I was also working on this.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a small hard disk. “There’s no guarantee that they won’t have placed a tracker on the drive as well. So, what we do, once we get it back, is move the information on that drive to this one. It’s set up to be automatic. All we have to do is plug the other one in.” 

“Well aren’t you clever?” The dopey smile on Changbin’s face as he looked at you made your stomach do flips.

“People have said that before.” A shy, almost coy smile worked its way across your face in response. You got up from the bed and went over to the chair, pulling it so that it sat next to the bed. 

“You should sleep, we both should really. The computer will finish its search for the tracker in an hour, and we need to be at our best before we try and take on NCT again. 

Changbin patted the pillows next to him. “Come here then. I’m cold.” 

“You have blankets.” 

“Yeah but I—”

“Fine.” You lifted a corner of the blankets and got in next to him. “I guess I owe you after my nightmare.” 

“Thank you.” The soft reply in the dimly lit room made your heart skip a beat. Changbin reached out under the covers and grasped your hand, pulling you closer to him. 

Five minutes later, you were out cold, one hand resting against Changbin’s chest right over his heart, the steady thumping reassuring you that he was alive and safe and here with you. 

---

“How’s your arm?” You asked, searching through the items in your bag for pepper spray and throwing weights. 

Changbin stretched it carefully, moving it in small circles to test its range of motion. “I think we’re good. It’s sore, but I can work with this.” 

“Now remember, I’m doing most of this. The drive is being taken to a music festival in the Latin Quarter. That means they’re probably going to have a handoff there, in the crowd. I’ll be in the mess of people, and I’ll nab the drive and then come to you.” 

“I’ll have the transfer disk waiting, and once we’re done, we simply toss the drive out the window and leave as fast as we can.” 

“Exactly. If we have to run, you make sure they don’t catch you again.” 

“Princess, you do care.” 

“Well of course I care about you idiot!” The words burst out of your mouth. The constant worry about Changbin and his needling had worn you down to the point where you were ready to throw something. “You’re my closest friend. I’d trust you with my life. And I care about you more than you know, so can you please not get hurt again? I don’t think I could handle it.” 

The quaver in your voice was unmistakable. 

Changbin reached over and cupped your cheek, turning your face to look him directly in the eye. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, if it meant you were safe.” 

Slowly, giving you every chance to back away, Changbin leaned closer and closer and closer until his lips brushed against yours, soft and warm and just the slightest hint of teasing as he traced a heart on your back with his finger. 

You melted into him, one hand curling into his hair and the other holding him against you, solid and steady and unwavering. You weren’t sure why you’d never done this before, why you’d waited so long for something that felt so right. 

Beep beep beep. The computer interrupted you and you fell apart, hands still reaching for each other. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, arms going around him in a hug. “Be safe. And if you think you can kiss me and then die to get out of doing it again, I’ll drag you back to life myself.” 

“_____? Wake up,” Changbin patted your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open and immediately you felt yourself deflating. 

It had just been a dream. 

He didn’t actually love you. 

He hadn’t kissed you. 

“Yeah. I’m up. We should suit up.” You stumbled out of bed with a groan and padded over to the bathroom, splashing water on your red face. 

“Come on, we should be at the festival before it starts, so we can scope out our getaway.” Changbin tucked his favorite pistol into his ankle holster and slipped a knife into his sleeve. 

He paused as you brushed past him, going to your suitcase. “Are you okay ____? You feel off somehow.”

“I’m fine. I’m more worried about you really, you’re the one who got hurt earlier.” 

“Don’t worry, it’s healed enough that as long as I don’t do anything dumb, we’ll be fine. Thanks for patching me up so well.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Are you sure you’re—”

“Changbin, we need to go before it’s too late. Come on.” 

The two of you slipped out of the little hotel silently, not a word of conversation between you. Changbin seemed to sense your mood, staying quiet rather than initiating his usual banter. 

But the silence only seemed to cement the fact that, while you might care about Changbin, he’d never said anything about loving you back. 

Even in your dream. 

---

Music filled the air, the crowd moving with energy that easily obscured you and Changbin as you made your way closer and closer to the blinking red dot on the screen. The dot had been stationary for almost five minutes, suggesting that it was about to change hands soon and you wanted to get to it before that happened. 

“I think I see him.” Changbin whispered, the mic in his ear catching his every word. “Look near the stage, left side, three feet away from the big speaker.” 

You followed his directions with your eyes and took in the man standing there in dark wash jeans and a black hoodie. A beanie was pulled low over his head, obscuring some of his face. 

Somehow though, you could tell. He was the same man who had almost cut Changbin’s throat. 

Anger rose up in you, and you fought to keep yourself calm. Losing control would do nothing, and you needed to get to him and pickpocket him without anyone realizing. 

“Okay, I’m going in. Be ready to run.” You wiggled your fingers, ready and waiting for the exchange. Slowly, carefully, you neared the man, head down so that he couldn’t see your face under the cap you wore. 

You brushed up against him, making it appear as though the crowd had shoved you and you had simply stumbled. “Pardon, monsieur,” you muttered, hand slipping into the man’s pocket and out again.

One glance down was all it took to check if you had the drive. 

The little silvery piece of metal in your hand blinked up at you in the brightly colored lights of the festival, and you let yourself take a breath of relief. You had it back. 

“I have the box. Initiating transfer now. Let’s run.” You plugged the drive into the box in your pocket and pushed your way through the crowd, finding Changbin once more. He reached down and grabbed your hand the second you were in reach, tangling your fingers together and pulling you along behind him. 

“Come on Princess, let’s go.” The brisk walk through the crowd became a jog as the throng of people decreased, and before you knew it you were running, running as fast as you could, even as the mechanism in your pocket slowly transferred the files. 

---

Fifty feet away, a man checked inside his pocket, only to pull out a rectangular prism made of simple red glass. 

Gold letters spelled out LRRH on top. 

You weren’t about to let him think just anyone had pickpocketed him. A thief of your caliber deserved recognition. 

The man snarled in anger, pulling out his phone and dialing a number. 

“She’s taken it again. Use the tracker.” 

And sooner than you realized it, you and Changbin were being tailed once more.

--- 

The device had just beeped out eighty percent completion when you felt the first bullet whizz past your head, only missing you by inches. You jumped to the side, pulling Changbin with you as you entered a modern looking office building. 

“They caught up to us already! I didn’t think they’d check so soon, I even switched in a weight so he wouldn’t notice the difference.” 

“Nothing you can do now. Let’s get that thing loaded so we can ditch it.” 

The building was a maze of corridors and cubicles, and you took as circuitous a route as you could, to make things difficult for your pursuers. Still, they kept getting nearer and nearer, closer and closer. 

Your head start was dwindling.

And by now, you and Changbin were both exhausted, at the very ends of your strength. This was your last shot to get away. 

“100% complete. File transfer finished.” The automated voice spoke into both of your earpieces. You exchanged a quick look with Changbin. 

“We can’t get out from the bottom; they’re bound to have it sealed. The roof too probably.” Changbin considered for a moment, panting a little. 

You glanced around frantically, looking for a way out. 

And you saw the floor to ceiling windows opposite you, and office building next door, barely eight feet away. If you jumped, you could enter that building and get out that way. 

“The windows!” Changbin immediately realized what you were planning. 

“Drop the drive now, I’ll get the window open.” He reached down and pulled out the small pistol from his ankle holster. One point-blank shot to the window and it shattered, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. 

You unplugged the silver drive and ran back to the elevator, throwing it inside and pressing the button for the highest floor. Hopefully NCT would think you were heading up to the roof to escape. 

“Let me go first, then you,” Changbin stepped a few paces back, then with a running start he sailed into the night, crashing through the opposite window with a roll to regain his balance. 

“I made it, come on _____!” He called. The wind rushed through your ears, your heart pounding like crazy. 

“Come on! I’ll catch you; I promise _____!” 

You took a deep breath. 

In.

Out. 

Now or never. 

You ran as fast as you could, falling through the air until you weren’t any more.

You opened your eyes, a laugh escaping your lips as you realized that one, you weren’t dead, and two, Changbin had caught you just as he promised he would. 

Hysterical giggles burst out of both of you as you looked at each other, the adrenaline rush finally bubbling over. You’d made it, you were safe, and if you got out of here fast, you could be home within the next six hours. 

“Can you—”

“No way—”

“I didn’t even think we—”

“—we’d make it.” 

Your laughter quieted as you calmed down, the adrenaline seeping out of you leaving you more tired than before. 

Changbin grinned down at you, light and carefree. “You have glass in your hair you know Princess? They look like diamonds.” He reached over and picked a shard out of your hair, flicking it over his shoulder without taking his eyes away from yours. 

“You do too Bin.” You reached up and brushed the mess from his hair, tousling it gently. 

Suddenly, you realized just where you were. Standing barely a hair’s breadth away from Changbin, breath mingling as you calmed down, hand half tangled in his hair. 

It was like your dream all over again. 

You moved to back away, pulling your hands away from him but Changbin reached up and grabbed them both, pulling you flush against him. 

He stared deep into your eyes, his gaze pinning you in place to the point where you couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Changbin filled your senses, his scent the only thing you could smell, the light sound of his breathing the only thing you could hear, the soft touch of his fingers on yours the only thing you could feel, the warmth in his eyes the only thing you could see. 

And then—

The sensation of his lips, his tongue against yours the only thing you could taste. 

He cradled your jaw as gently as he possibly could, holding you against him and kissing you with every ounce of his being, as though if he let you go, he would lose a part of himself. 

You weren’t sure when you broke apart. 

Changbin was still close, close enough that your breath was intermingled with his, your noses brushing every time you moved even the slightest millimeter. 

“What was that?” you whispered. Somehow a normal volume was far too loud for this situation. 

Changbin scrunched his nose ruefully. “Something I’ve wanted to do for a while.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“I was a bit scared I’d get slapped. That and I didn’t want to fuck this up. You’re the closest friend I have _____, you’re more important to me than anyone else. I couldn’t risk losing you.” 

“Why kiss me now then?” 

“I couldn’t wait any longer. We could have died jumping just now and I don’t want to die without having given this a shot. Why all the questions?” 

“Last one, promise.” The sparkle in your eyes made Changbin gulp. “Kiss me again?” 

And you yanked him down towards you, pressing your lips to his with a sigh. 

It felt… right. 

He was meant to be yours. And you were meant to be his. 

This time you pulled away first, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment before stepping away from him. 

He smiled shyly at you, the tips of his ears turning slightly red as you blew him another kiss. “Let’s get to our hotel. Now that we don’t have a tracker on us, we can fly to your grandmother and get it to her within the next few hours.” 

“Lead the way Princess.” 

Hand in hand, you made your way out of the building. 

---

Epilogue

The car pulled up in front of your grandmother’s manor smoothly. You hopped out of the driver’s seat and handed the keys over to her butler, who bowed respectfully. 

“Welcome home Miss _____. Your grandmother is in her favorite sitting room.” 

“Thank you.” You grasped Changbin’s hand in yours and began the familiar trek to the sunny room your grandmother ran her empire from. 

“Well _____, Changbin, what took you both so long?” 

“Sorry Mama, we had some mishaps. But here you go.” You handed her the new red disc and she immediately tucked it inside her desk. 

Her eagle eyes, still sharp and perceptive as ever, landed on yours and Changbin’s hands. 

“These mishaps wouldn’t have anything to do with you holding hands with a boy right in front of me, would they?” 

“They helped us get to this stage?” You were a little nervous as she stood up and walked over to you both. 

“It’s about time you found someone _____, you keep a good grasp on this one alright? And you, boy, you look familiar. What’s your name?” 

The little twinkle in her eye suggested she knew exactly who he was. She’d met him plenty of times before, she just enjoyed playing with you both. 

“Seo Changbin, ma’am.” 

“You treat my granddaughter well, and don’t let her get too absorbed in her work. She needs a little teasing now and then alright?” 

Of all the things you were expecting from her, that had not been one of them. 

“Mama! Leave him alone, he’s been a perfect gentleman.” 

“Well maybe he should be less of one, you could do with a little shaking up. You’re far too sure of yourself sometimes _____, let yourself live and enjoy your childhood a little more. There’s more to life than just our work.” 

At this point, both you and Changbin resembled tomatoes. 

“Now go do whatever it is young people do in their spare time, I have work to do.” 

Clearly dismissed, the two of you left the room, shyly exchanging looks as you walked out into the gardens, still holding hands. 

“I wasn’t expecting her to be so…” Changbin trailed off uncertainly. 

“Forward? Pushy? She likes you Bin, that’s all. It’s a good thing.” 

“Well, now your grandmother approved of me. You’re stuck with me _____.” 

“Maybe I like having you around.” You weren’t entirely sure where this level of flirtatiousness was coming from but Changbin’s blush was far too rewarding for you to stop. 

That is, until he pecked your nose and then ran off, taunting you into trying to catch him. 

[vividracing]

New Post has been published on https://www.vividracing.com/blog/introducing-our-new-project-car-the-2021-ford-bronco-sport-badlands-edition/

Introducing Our New Project Car: the 2021 Ford Bronco Sport Badlands Edition

After 25 years, the legendary Ford Bronco returns and we here at Vivid Racing are thrilled to have the iconic SUV in our possession. Join us as we give you an up-close and personal look at our brand-new 2021 Ford Bronco Sport in the video below. Watch as we share our first thoughts, take it out onto the road for a quick test drive, and then pull it onto our in-house AWD Mustang Dyno to find out just how much power the turbocharged 2.0 Ecoboost engine produces to the wheels! 

We are going to start modifying the Bronco and conduct some performance tests to see what the new EcoBoost engine can produce. And, as you may recall, we have some experience playing with the EcoBoost platform in the Ford Focus ST and the Raptor. So we will really be able to cram some extra power out of the Bronco’s engine and make this SUV a proper off-road vehicle. 

If you’ve done your research, you know that the Ford Bronco Sport with the 2.0-liter turbocharged engine makes 250 horsepower. On our dyno, the Bronco was pushing around 200-210 all-wheel horsepower and 280-300 pound-feet of torque. But there is so much more you can get out of that engine and that’s exactly what we are setting out to prove. 

What upgrades should we do first? We want to know what you think. Let us know your suggestions in the comment section below.  

  While the 2021 Bronco is certainly an exhilarating adventure partner, this isn’t its first rodeo (no pun intended). The new breed of off-road vehicle debuted in 1966, winning the hearts of outdoor enthusiasts everywhere while also setting the mold for the future (and what is now the modern) SUV. And now that it has returned, fans of the sport utility vehicle are beyond excited to see what it can do and just how far you can take it. 

Ford describes the all-new Bronco Sport as being your wilderness guide with four unique series engineered to match the way you experience the outdoors. Each one is expertly designed and fully equipped to get exploring – whether it be to the woodland trails, scenic shores, or mountain ranges. The Ford Bronco Sport is where your adventure begins but never ends; the possibilities are virtually endless. 

To encourage your journey into the wild, this rugged SUV puts utility in the foreground with a purposeful design, standard 4×4, G.O.A.T. Modes (Goes Over Any Type of Terrain), and a H.O.S.S. suspension system, to help you tackle any terrain with impressive levels of comfort and power. 

[lillaxtrigger]

Faded Land: Chapter 14 (Pt1)

Along the stretching scenic route, Clara travels atop her trusted bear spider steed; the rising sun to the east beating upon their backs reflect its blinding glow upon the neighboring lake Erie. Above her be the stretch of concrete road alongside the ruins of a once proud city. Within her sites stood the appropriately named city of Niagara falls, the imposing stature of the fabled barrier coming into view. Even more of a surprise being some of the restored structures near the closing edge, varying in differing quality as if the city was slowing pulling itself back from the brink. Even from afar, the scientist could tell the blockade that divides the continent stood tall, estimating the structure to be around at least 250 meters in height. Such a monumental wall proves ever effective in dividing the harsh wastes that make up a majority of the once mighty nation from the mysterious northern lands of maple and pine. To most, it would truly be a wonder how one could cross through such a great divide, but not to Clara. She theorizes that a break from the barrier might be near; for no matter strong it may be, it can’t possibly rival the natural might of the iconic roaring falls. No doubt that the Canadians can never cap a waterfall of that size; for its unending flow would forbid such construction. A massive opening like that may provide a way to squeeze into the country, just have to find a way to give the border patrol the slip. Though with all the rumors she heard about how merciless the immigration control is, the latter might prove more difficult than the former. Even more of a growing concern being Angelo, the poor girl growing and slowing more and more with each passing day. Her thorax swelling evermore like an infect boil, its a wonder what ails the ursa arachnid. Given her mutant biology, it could be quiet literally anything. But scientist knows for sure that its not her eating habits, being very careful not let any overindulgence sneak past. This matter might go beyond the realms of midnight snacking, unfortunately. Though the mystery of her steeds sickness will have to be put on hold as another site stops them in their tracks. Beyond the city limits stood a gate, two armored trooper standing to its sides with strange rifles in their arms. Not a doubt a single site of the woman riding atop such a terrifying mutant will cause them to fire on site. It’s a miracle that neither of them have been spotted them yet, one that the scientist plans to take full advantage of. On the sides of the gate, the two armored soldiers stand watch, ever ready to open fire on whatever rouge marauders decide to show their sorry anarchy asses. The outside world may try to deal a harsh hand, but little does it know that these Canadians have the better card in the form of advanced weaponry. As they concentrate on whatever the road ahead may serve next like well trained military dogs, their insane focus ironically proves to be their downfall as they fail to realize the mutant scuttling under the freeway above them. The scientist and her sickly steed crawl under the concrete freeway, taking every step cautiously so that their sly efforts to sneak past would not be noticed. Surely, Clara has drawn a royal flush in this hypothetical game of poker; she got this game in the bag. But to her surprise, a new hand is dealt. Echoing from behind, the sound of a roar engine closes in. A glance back reveals the site of a rusty truck coming out from the horizon. The bed on its back full of armed anarchists and raiders swiftly on the approach, their numerous firearms aimed down upon the two guards of the gate. From the back of the truck, the oncoming pillagers berated the two troops with a barrage of constant gunfire; many of the bullets that hit simply ricocheting off of their titanium armor. A few of the bullets that bounce off almost hit the hanging bear spider above, striking the sides of the concrete highway. Unflinched by the approaching assault, one of the soldiers looks towards their partner. A single nod is all that exchanges between the two before one of them aims their high tech rifle down upon the oncoming truck. Installed on the side of the rifle is a single dial labeling the weapons output, the wielder of the weapon turning it to the maximum setting. The soldiers rifle charges with a low hum as the truck full of armed raiders closes in. Finally, the advanced rifle is soon fired, a deadly beam erupting from the barrel of the gun. The ray races towards the approaching truck, the vehicle in its path attempting to evade. The laser proves faster however and engulf the truck and all of its passenger in a fiery explosion upon impact. Clara watches in astonishment as both metal and body parts scatter alongside the resulting bang. A single victim of the disaster crawls out from the fiery wreck as his body lights in a blaze, desperately dragging himself towards the edge of the road where the river flows. His efforts to save himself prove in vein however, as he succumbs to the flames consuming him, mere inches from the side. The scientist witnessing this failed siege comes to the realization that the Canadians forces that she may have to face are far more advances in technological firepower then she dared to imagine. The power difference was on full display, like a pissed off hillbilly with a rusty shotgun trying to fight against a horde of hungry grizzlies. Might be able to get a few lucky shots in their drunk induced rage, but sooner or later, your gonna have your insides eaten out. That in mind, she makes her own ursa hurry across the bottom of the freeway to avoid the same fiery fate. Once the scene of the highway was clear, they jump from the roads to the rooftops when heading deeper in. From leaping across the small alleyway, to weaving across large stretches between roads; the duo travel along the skyline of the city of Niagara, Clara taking note of the populous from below. Along the streets walked numerous citizens, their garbs not poor rags and thin sheets, but clean shirts and tidy pants on them all. Through the roads drive past several vehicles; some rustic, others clean, all seemingly repaired and driving as smooth as the silk Angelo spews out. Truly an oasis from the hovels and ruins that she’s seen throughout this war torn nation. But what truly stands out is the overall population of the city, being far bigger than she had initially predicted. A sort of estimate close to half the number to the big apple if she had to go off. Guessing its not that far out of the question, being so close to the border and all. Bet some of these people are hoping to escape this hell hole for promises of greater tomorrows. And given her journey throughout the once proud land of the brave and free, can’t exactly blame any of them. Though given the massive amount of people here, its safe to say that immigration process might be kind of a slog. Don’t really have that kinda time, unfortunately. Need to find a way across the border ASAP, whether legally or not. In her venture through the rooftops of Niagara, a strange pattern from below begins to peek her interest. Merging alongside the streams of walking citizens be the occasional Canadian trooper, armed with rifles and all. Some of the surrounding citizens prove scared, but not outright panicked. The soldiers themselves don’t seems all that eager on firing the whopping heat their packin either, few just carrying their guns on their shoulders. Guessing their kind of like the police officers of this joint, making sure no one threatens anybody or something extreme like that. Even the roads aren’t free from this phenomenon. Odd vans stand out among the river of grounded vehicles, hovering along the ground with no wheels along their bottoms. Their designs being sleek and simplistic compared to the partially restored cars and trucks surrounding them. Likely to guess that these futuristic automobiles belong to the Canadian military given the similar color scheme. Honestly, this shouldn’t be that surprising, given the two soldiers guarding the gate. And even though the law around here might be kinda strict, it is more then a welcomed change to the scientist. She’s seen first hand how wild and merciless the untamable lands beyond can be and is thankful that some social structure is erected this near the border. Though given that some of the social cities she visited fell victim to some kind of horrible secret, like mutating outsiders, or segregating social class based off some dumb animal race; its best to keep laying low. Even more of a concern being all the extra heat wondering around. No doubt that they can’t go any deeper into the city without attracting some unwanted attention. Can’t exactly just gallop into town atop a mutant bear spider and warrant a few wayward shots. No doubt that such a mass panic would spell doom for the both of them. Guess Clara’s gonna have to stash her steed somewhere if she wants to scout deeper into the city. Need to find a place free from the eyes of the Canadian authorities, somewhere dark, secluded, and where no rational person without a pair would dare to look. And its gotta be soon; Angelo looking that she might collapse any minute. Panting breaths leaving the bear spiders maw as she scuttle across the rooftops. During her voyage across the numerous rooftops of Niagara, she makes a quick stop at the edge of a building, catching quiet the interesting view. Beside the streets below stood one of those futuristic Canadian vehicles, parked beside a partially restored building. Between the van and the premise, both citizens and troopers could be seen carrying out boxes of cans out from the back of the vehicle. From there, the line of haulers make their way through the door of the structure, coming back out seconds after they enter with empty hands. In the ongoing effort, one of the citizens trips over a crack in the street and drops the box that he carries, the cans within scattering across the pavement. The surrounding people stare down upon him, looks of fright forming upon the masses as some watch the canned goods roll by. Worry is all the man can let out upon the site of his mistake before an ominous shadow looms over him. Turning from his blunder, he finds the darkness blanketing his figure to belong to one of the troopers; their glowing gaze silently staring down upon the man through their heavy plated helmets. Their grasp reaches towards the downed man, the citizens worry grows as soldiers palm nears. Paranoid with what the trooper might do to him for his blunder, the man tightly shuts his eyes and braces for the worse. Seconds go by with next to nothing happening, the citizen slowly opening his peepers in a wonder what the Canadian was doing. Surprise overcomes him when he finds not an angered fist, but an inviting palm awaiting him. Cautiously, the grounded citizen meets with the Canadians grip, the soldier softly grasping the mans hand. In one motion, the soldier lifts the man of the pavement and helps him land in his feet. The citizen still wearing a worried gaze, something nudges the troopers boot. A glance down revealed a discarded can had rolled aside the Canadians feet. Kneeling down, the soldier picks the can of off the crack concrete streets, the good soon coming to the citizens grasp. Feeling the troopers gentle grip on his shoulder is all that he needs to relax, reassuring the man that all is well. Having witnessed this act of mercy and kindness in person, Clara begins to think back about the countless tales of the Canadian forces unending ruthlessness and scorning brutality. Should have known that those rumors were simply the byproduct of political bias. Can’t believe I almost bought into such silly old hoaxes. Right on that thought, Clara witnesses a wayward by passer jerk the can out from the citizens grasp, causing the man to fall to the pavement once more. His ripped garbs flowing in the passing wind, the woman scampers through the streets, hoping to get away with her newly pilfered prize. Her dreams are soon to be cut short however as the Canadian trooper takes aim of his lethal laser rifle. Their line of site clear, the soldier pulls the trigger and fires their beam down the street; the ray piercing through her chest in one fell swoop. Struck in the midst of her escape, the petty thief collapses upon the concrete. A pool of crimson slowly forms below the fresh corpse; the growing scarlet staining the label of the dropped peaches. The surrounding populous is horrified by the sudden demise, several gasps escaping into the air due to the scene of brutality. In the aftermath, the soldier that done the deed approaches the cadaver, the edge of their boot stepping upon the woman’s ruby red blood. From the pool do they retrieve the piece of pilfered good back to their possession, the red soaked into the label trickling down from the base of the can. The good retrieved, the soldier returns to the citizens front; a gaze of horror etched on the mans face. Presented by the soldier be the can that was knicked from his grasp, the citizen takes back the can in a weary fashion. The cherry red liquid trickling between his fingers, he looks back to the soldier; the trooper giving him a simple thumbs up. Not wanting to seem grateful, the man forces out a less then enthusiastic grin. Seems all those nasty rumors might hold some ground after all; the scenes that just played out before the scientist showing more evidence to their truth. On that note, Clara realizes that it might be smart to skedaddle while she’s still hidden from the public eye. Don’t want to wind up with the same empty feeling in her chest. Traveling a reliable distance within the limits of Niagara, Angelo continues to gallop across the rooftops of the city. Coming to a stop, Clara looks down the edge of the building they stand, a smile beaming through. Below was the dead end of a winding alleyway, concealed beneath a shroud of shadows. The dark hollow free from the eyes of the public, it was the perfect place to stow away a sickly spider. She guides her steed down the building, crawling her way into the secluded darkness of the alley. After parking her ursa arachnid right into the deepest part of the dead end, she dismounts from the chimera’s backside. Landing on the concrete ground, she starts to dig through her pack intent to leave something for her steed to munch on while she’s gone. To that end, she pulls out a can of peas and another of beans. Might as well let her have those; starting to get sick of the taste of both. With Angelo though, she’ll take whatever Clara will give and scarf the stuff down like a birthday boy with cake all over his face. Just shove your whole face in there, sure that nobody else would want a piece. Before she departs into the dangerous streets, she gives her trusted steed one last word. “Afraid your gonna have to camp out here for a while, Ange. Can’t really go any further with ya.” On that does her ursa arachnid let out a low moan in response, her six eyes gazing upon the departing scientist. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it. Just wait here for me.” Making her way out from the shadows of the alley way, she finds herself in the middle of the Niagara streets, alone. She soon merges with the passing crowds traveling along the walkway, ready to set out into the unpredictable city. The beginning of the urban voyage proves itself to be quiet smooth sailing, having not ran into any trouble thus far. And though the occasional Canadian trooper shares her path, she does her best to act as unassuming as possible. Don’t how much their bullshit threshold can take before they feel like giving their fancy firearms a good old test drive. Could be at the sound of a sneeze, could be when the falls explode; who honestly knows at this point. In her travels through the jungle of stone and steel, a sudden sound of an explosion could be heard not to far away. Looking back towards the direction of the blast, she spots a black van speeding out from behind one of the buildings that shoves many of the other cars out of its way. Upon the turn does the van start to skid across the roads, aiming to slam into the streets. Acting fast, she dodges into the out of control vehicle, evading the oncoming death machine. Weaving out between van and the wall, she manages to dodge her demise by mere inches; the van slamming into the opposing stone brick building. Taking a glance back towards the black vehicle, she watches as it takes off with a spurt to its tailpipe; the smoke blowing into the scientists face. The puff of smoke clearing from her vision, she finishes her coughing fit and looks upon the aftermath of the crash in complete horror. Mangled bodies, broken limbs, mashed corpse, the whole site sent shivers down her spine. Those left alive moan and weep in agony, while other surrounding the accident panic and cry in distress. In her shock, Clara begins to back herself away from the scene of the crime, when an approaching alarm reaches her ears. Turning back, two Canadian vehicles come racing out from the corner. Best guess is that they’re in the midst of pursuing that black van that crashed here a moment ago. While one continues to race through the streets in pursuit of the hit and runner, the other stops aside the scene. Out from the back of the futuristic van burst out a team of those armored soldiers, ready to tend to those left alive after the accident. While the living are carried into the back of the vehicle, those unfortunate are stuffed in a bizarre, bin like box. Its opening emanating a strange pink glow, it swallows whatever is stuffed in its mouth, taking in the corpses whole despite its small stature. Its in this moment of recollection that Clara decides to flee from the scene. Best book it the hell outta there before people start asking questions. Thankfully the rest of the trip proves uneventful, turning the corner to find the world famous falls themselves in the distance; passing between the great divide itself. Looks like her guess was right on the money. No man made wall of any kind gonna put a cork in a torrent of that size. The mythical Poseidon proves ever the victor in this everlasting boxing match of man vs nature. Gazing out into the roaring waters, she wonders how exactly she can get a closer look at the wondrous landmark. In her search for a better vantage point, she turns the corner for her eyes to catch a luscious green island standing near the falls. A such beautiful site indeed; one that would make quite the vantage point. Crossing the bridge leading to the island lets Clara behold its beauty up close, the plants and flowers scattered across her site in full bloom. Not overgrown blue wood, not mutated plants, not weird velvet grass or any other strange botanical bullshit like that. Just the warming site of the natural beauty set before her. After the literal miles of lifeless wastelands and cracked earth that she had walked across in her venture, to come to such a luscious garden such as this was truly a dream. Taking a little stroll through this slice of heaven wouldn’t take up too much time. Wasting not a second further, she runs through the stone trail leading deeper in with a relaxed breath and a joyous smile. Across the carved stone trail she walks, the scientist looking upon the island park in all its natural green wonder. The stretches of grass along the sides of the walkway, countless leaves decorating the lengthy branches flowing in the wind, the flower garden depicting a floral rainbow of roses, lily’s, and orchids. All of it acting as a sort of retreat from the cold and sometimes dead atmosphere of the cruel wastes and cities. Even the very air feels fresh and free from horrible despair and rotting corpses, Clara savoring every inhale she takes with a hearty breath. For a brief moment, she ventures off the stone trail, coming to the scene of one of the many flower gardens set throughout. A closer look upon the garden portrays its botanical residence to be alive and healthy, just like the flowers of yesteryear. The scent of the surrounding orchard reaching her nose, she helps herself to the many mixing aromas that hover through the air. The smell of the blooming scene gives the scientist a feeling of euphoric relief that she desperately needed. Out from the garden, Clara lays eyes upon a glorious stone statue, its stone carved into the form of a young woman, garbed in combat gear. Upon its base be a gold plaque, reflecting the light of the shining sun on its surface. Engraved on its gold, a noble epitaph is told: “To commemorate the brave accomplishment of Sally-way Marigold. War Hero of the U.S. Smasher of the Canadian Army front. The first times of young men and women everywhere. Good game, Lassie. Good game.” Huh…Must have been one hell of a woman to get a whole statue of her. Moving from that memorial, Clara fancies a closer look at one of the many solid hard trees planted across the park. The scientist traces her palm across the rough bark of the oak, the touch letting her know that this wood is far healthier than the many rotting stumps and withering tree scattered across the wastelands. It’s lush tops enforcing the claim; the many green leaves flowing in the wind. Given its full grown size, she’d wager that these babies have been here for a long while. Wonder when exactly they’ve been planted here? Though fascinated by the magnificent oak, something beyond its bark truly catches her eye. A site that she thought her eyes may never partake in again. Atop a small mound stood a lone tree; faint spots of yellow stand out among its green leaves. Curious as to what the yellow could be, she ascends the little hill with but a dozen climbing steps. Baring across its thin branches, the lone wood sported rich fruit Actual fruit! Not some kind of weird mutant variant with sixty billion eyes or something more disturbing. Regular bright yellow lemons so juicy and plump that you could take hold of them with but a single hand. For so long, Clara was force to satiate her ever present hunger with nothing but canned goods, fruit being a rarity among them. But now, she can satisfy her tastes with a juicy bite of the fresh fruit before her. The temptation was too much for her to bare, she begins to reach towards the low hanging citrus. Her grasp inches closer and closer towards the natural delight, her mouth watering like the very falls that stood from behind. Its not until the sound of an approaching scream reaching her ears does she snap out of her hunger induced trance. From nearby, she notices a lone man charging for the tree, a strange lance like device in his hands. Swiftly climbing up the small mountain, he jumps towards the fruit filled tree. From the tip of the lance onward does the man begins to disintegrate before the scientists very eyes, the gaze of overwhelming horror painted across his face as the random man is quickly consumed by an unknown force. Having witness this horrible scene first hand, Clara swiftly backs away from the lemon barring wood, soon finding herself tumbling down the mound that the tree stands upon. After rising from her fall, the scientist takes a glance back to the top; tree and its fruit rocking in the wind. Tons of questions begin to flow through her mind upon this curious event; but ever curious herself, begins to conduct her own test. Plucking a single blade of grass from the ground during her ascent back up, she approach the tree once more with the utmost caution. From the pinch of her finger, she blows the blade of grass towards the wood; finding the green to burn on approach. Seems like this miracle of botanical engineering is being guarded by something on par to a force field. Funny, figured this kinda science fiction horse shit would be akin to something from Independence Day. But given the Canadians weaponry that she’d had bare witness to time and time again today, it might as well be science fact at this point. Should’ve figured that this fruitful oasis would be too good to be true. Standing out here in the middle of the open, its no wonder it hasn’t been picked clean by now. The better question being why there isn’t any kind of signs warning people of this kinda bull. She fancies a trip around the small mound for any kind of literal sign depicting a warning of the dangerous field among this tranquil public park. Her efforts do manage to suss out a single sign upon the bottom of the mountain, quickly jumping down to wonder what it mentions. And sure enough, it does foretell of a warning to not approach the tree, depicting a stick figure being torn apart. Alright, that checks out. Guess she wasn’t exactly paying attention, was she? Damn the tempting allures of the yellow citrus, their sour juices were nearly her end! And speaking of paying attention; this quick, but terrifying near death experience reminds the scientist to get back on track to the mission at hand. Poor Angelo can only hold out so long after all. Though tempted to stop in awe at the parks wondrous beauty, the scientist swiftly passes through the natural scenery, determined not to halt in her goal. With this drive, she manages to make it to the scenic view of the landmark in no time flat. Standing near the edge of the railing, Clara beholds the roaring Niagara falls in all of its flowing majesty; the descending waters crashing upon the dividing river below. From this point of view, she has a much more detailed look of the blockade separating the country. As expected, the well known landmark dividing the near impenetrable blockade is far from free in terms of security, boasting two lofty towers upon its side. The top of those towers sport armed turrets, ready to fire for any moment security is breached. Even with the stationed guns so far apart, it’ll be quite the challenge to squeeze through; Angelo’s condition not making things any easier. Leaning onto the railing, Clara wagers to gauge as deep a look she possibly can in hopes of strategizing. Her figure edging along the safety railing, her hips slide against the sleek metal. From her perspective, she realizes that although there is a ton of climbing room for Angelo to scuttle on, there’s very little in terms of cover. No doubt people are gonna notice a massive mutant bear spider climbing along the walls hard steel. Might as well just paint a massive target on their asses while they’re at it. Still, there’s gotta be something to work with. Can’t be completely impassable. The roars of the falls echoing in her ear drums makes a brilliant idea spring to mind. All the scientist has to do is have her steed climb upon the wall from an imperceptible distance, then slowly approach the landmark without catching a single eye. With next to no one even noticing their presence, she can safely ascend the Niagara falls from behind the descending waters themselves. Then when nearing the top, she squeeze out from the waters and quickly scuttle between the towers. Might take some timing, some skill, and for the fickle whims of chaos theory not to knee her in the beans; but she might be able to pull off this illegal border crossing without a single hitch. Right in the midst of her formulaic planning, her shifting position and lack of attention prove to be her literal downfall as she begins to slide off the slippery railing. Her gaze quickly shifts down upon the cascading river below, the scientist finally realizing her plummeting situation. Thankfully, she fails to fall far, as her ill desired drop come to a sudden halt. Dangling upon the distant river, she gazes up towards the edge and takes note of a pair of arms grasping tight at her leg. Attached to them be an over coated individual, their face shrouded in darkness by their wide rimed fedora. Swiftly, the figure pulls Clara back up from the hefty drop and drags her back to safety of the cold hard concrete. Her feet back upon the ground, she pulls herself out from her initial fear and terror with hyperventilated breathes. In the midst of her heavy breathing, she utters out her appreciation for the coated figure. “Thanks...a bunch...back there...” Though his features are well guarded by a vial of darkness, a responds come out of him on the form of a noir like tone. “No sweat, little lady. Just watch yourself next time. N’kay?” His advice having been given, the overcoat individual takes his leave back into the park. Just what was a weirdo like that doing here anyway; not that she ain’t thankful or anything. But people dressed like that don’t just go for leisurely stroll through places like this without cooking up some kind of scheme. The scientist knowing to be a prime example of that suspicion. Selling illegal drugs? Weaponry? Or maybe just primed and ready to flash his sick figure to some unsuspecting children? Who can really tell? Ain’t got time for that nonsense anyway. With her breath having calmed and a tactic glued in her mind, she quickly hurries out of the park and back into the heat of the jungle to rendezvous with her spider bear. Hopefully, Angelo will be okay enough to go on with the daring stealthy shenanigans scientist has in mind. Out of the park and into the city, she retraces her steps back towards the alleyway she had left her steed in. Along the way back, she gets another peek of the van crashes aftermath, this time with neon pink glow straps akin to police tape blocking the way. A couple of the Canadian troops were already on the scene, investigating the corpses of the crash and cleaning up whatever blood was spilled. Hate to be one of those poor bastards on clean up detail. Must be a really shitty position to get stuck with. Scrubbing off gallons of blood and scrapping up flattened intestinal tracts and livers off the walls. Still, not the most morbid thing that she’s seen today. And given the overall brutality of this whole city, clean up duty sounds kinda peachy, dare say relaxing. Anyway, best get moving along before people start to recognize her. Away from that horrid mess, she comes to the alley where she parked her furry steed. Descending into the dark depths of the corner, Clara comes to bear witness to a surprising site. The sickly bear spider that the scientist had left in the shadows of the alley had vanished. Puzzled at first, the scientist wondered what might have happened to her bear spider. The first thought to form in her head is that maybe she wound up going down the wrong alley. It’s quite possible that she might have been distracted by the cleanup scene from beforehand and mistakenly took a wrong turn? A glance towards the corner of the dead end showed otherwise however, the two cans that she had left behind lying upon the concrete were cleaned out; bits of bean and peas scattered around the tin containers. Yep. This was definitely where she had left her spidery steed. Only Angelo could leave behind a mess like that. That being the case, just what the hell happened down here? Wondering that very question, the second thought that worms its way in her mind is one of worry and paranoia. What if someone spotted her down here and called the troops on her fuzzy thorax? Ain’t no way she could have put up a brawl against their armored hides, not in the terrible condition she’s in. No doubt that they probably forced her out and dragged the poor girl to some kind of experimental lab, or worse yet, just shot her on the spot. Though reviewing the empty alleyway set before her, she fails to see any signs of a struggle. No claw marks, no scorch spots, no gun shells, no webbing, not even a single drop of blood to be found. She...She couldn’t have just up and left, could she? It was obvious she wasn’t feeling well, but was it that bad? Thinking this, she hunches over as her eyes glue to the spot she had left her sickly steed behind; her knees falling to the cold hard pavement. A horrible feeling begins to swell in the scientist very core, one that forces self deprecating thoughts into her conscious. Soon, drips begin to splash upon the concrete next to her legs, her face flowing a trickle of tears. It was obvious to anyone that Angelo wasn’t feeling well, but had it gotten that bad that she was forced to flee? Dammit! Why didn’t she stop at a doctor or something on their way? Would it even be possible to treat a chimeric creature such as her? Why did she have to leave her like this? What have I done? Upon this, all goes quiet. Clara slowly picks herself off the concrete, wiping away her tears with an audible snort. As her hands begins to ball themselves, her arms tremble alongside them. The seeds of doubt begin to sow themselves into the scientist very being. That ungrateful arachnid has been taken care of, fed, even saved a couple times, and she has the gall to just up and abandoned her in a place like this. You know what. If that damn spider wants to fuck off and leave her behind in the dust, fine! There’s plenty of alternative methods that the scientist could easily take that comes to the same results. Don’t needs her sorry spinneret to cross the border, anyway. With that fresh rash resolve does she turn back towards the way to the open streets, something in her way making her short lived stomp come to a sudden halt. Between her and the open streets stood the figure in the overcoat that had saved her from taking a deadly dive. “Hey there, little lady.” he kindly greets. “What the-...Have you’ve been following me, you creep!?” “Whoa harsh! Now is that any way to thank someone for saving your life?” “...What do you want?” “I was just comin to give you a little offer. One that you’d be dumb to turn down.” That odd statement makes the scientist aim her squinted eyes down upon the suspiciously dressed individual. Just what exactly is this weirdo trying to offer that she’d be hard pressed to refuse. Swear, if he turns out to be naked under that coat, Clara’s gonna pull her knife out on his privates. “You want on the other side, don’t ya?” Uttering that single question, the scientists eyes widen. The anonymous individual letting out a light chuckle. “Though you did. Couldn’t hide or lust for the fable green pastures on the other side of that wall from me.” “Get to the point.” “Right. Right. Me and a bunch of friends of mine have been leading a resistance group against the Canadians. Help us knock those maple leaved monsters down a peg and we may find a way to get you across the border in one piece. But best think fast now. As this one time offer ain’t comin back. What do you say?” It takes the scientist a fair minute to wonder if she should accept his proposal, weighing the limited options before her. Of course a skeevy son of a bitch like that would be a wild card to place your bets on any day of the week. Even with such an enticing prize on the line, it’d be a miracle to have your head intact with someone like him. Then again, given how her steed up and went a wall on her lab coated ass, it might be a bet that she’s gotta take. Can’t really see herself sneaking across the wall like an FBI intelligence agent. Probably end up with more holes then an example of trypophobia. Having next to no choice, there’s only one option left for Clara to take at this point. A heavy sigh escapes from the scientist lungs before she gives the man a question of her own. “Just where is this little resistance of yours at?” “Hang on a minute, sweet cheeks. Can’t just tell you where our base of operations is at.” That having said, the man digs into one of his many coat pockets. From one of them, he pulls out a long black sash and tells the scientist to: “Now stand still while I put this blindfold on you.” “Yeah...Fuck that. You think I’m dumb enough to fall for that stupid trap? I ain’t putting that anywhere near my head.” “Aw fine. We’ll just take the alternative route. People never wanna do it the fun way anymore.” Guided by the over coated individual, the scientist travels across the streets of Niagara. Soon, the two come to an abandoned dock along the rim of the city. Both stop at the edge of the pier, overlooking the rapids of the river below. “Alright, you dragged us to the end of some dead docks. Now what?” the scientist pushes. “Okay, see that lakeside in the distance out there?” Gazing in the direction the man pointed at, Clara looked towards a small island parked along the side of the wall. “You mean that isle right there?” “Yeah. Look closer and you’ll see it.” Cautiously, the scientist approaches the edge of the dock, focusing her attention on the tiny isle in the distance. “I don’t see anything.” “Just a bit closer.” Upon that suggestion, Clara leans out towards the dock, trying to spot this so called “Base” the guy was mouthing on about. “Still nothing.” “Little more.” Her feet just mere centimeter from the edge of the pier, she leans over the rapid waters of the river. The man soon takes the moment to grasps one of the scientist ankles and attempt to tilt her off the dock. But Clara proves the wiser however and counters with a kick to his stomach. “You honestly thought I’d fall for that cliché crap?” she boast, her shoe still in the anonymous figures stomach. As she tries to withdraw her foot to escape, the man in the overcoat tightly grasps at her ankle and keeps her foot near his stomach. Without a moment of hesitance, the man takes a mighty leap off the docks, dragging Clara down into the river with him. Taking the plunge into the Niagara waters, Clara is swept along the rapids of the river as she struggle to keep her head above the water. “That...mother...fucker!” As she attempts to keep herself afloat, the scientist notices the man in the overcoat swiftly swimming in her direction. Try as she might to escape from him, the anonymous individual soon catches up to Clara and grabs hold of her midsection. The scientist struggles in his arm as he begins to swim back to the edge of the city. “Hold still! I might drop you!” he tries to warn. “Let go of me, you freak!” Both of them come to the bottom of a cement cliff, the stone far too tall and smooth to climb. They careen along the side of the river, until coming to the open mouth of an outflow pipe. The man in the overcoat grabs hold of the mouths edge, both him and Clara struggling against the current of the river. The over coated individual pulls against the flow and throws the scientist inside the pipe. Tossed into the dank opening of the waterway, Clara coughs up the river water that she had swallowed as the over coated man behind her soon pulls himself out of the stream. As she regains her breathing, she hears from him: “Right. Sorry about the deceitful dive I made you take. But you were the one who didn’t wanna wear the blindfold.” Rising from the slimy floor of the sewer opening, she looks towards the man from behind to find his back turned as he wrings out the water from his coat. “Now, if you’d kindly follow me, I can show you the way to the base.” Turning back towards the scientist, the anonymous individual witnesses her bolt deeper into the metal caverns. “Stop! If you go now, you might wind up dead.” The walls of the sewer widening in her escape, she looks back down the light of the waterway and sees the man in the overcoat struggling to keep up. All that water his coat soaked in must be slowing him down. Lucky she’s wearing thin clothing, ain’t it. As if she’d stop for that asshole after the stunt he pulled. Hell no. Getting as far as she can from that nutcase. With that in mind, she begins to notice the tunnel growing darker the deeper she goes. She digs into her pack for anything that might light her way. Hoping that some of her stuff didn’t get washed up. To that end, she pulls from her pack a flashlight. A relieved breath escapes her lungs when she finds that it still works upon the flick of its switch, the end shining its light down the damp darkness of the sewer tunnels. The sound of her rapid footsteps echoing through the brickwork caverns, she makes a lot of tight turns in hopes of losing the man in the overcoat. In her moment of escape, she feels a slight resistance against her foot and stops. Crouching down, the scientist finds a little string at the foot of her shoe. At that moment, she notices a mechanism go off and launch out a barrage of knives. Seeing the collection of cutlery's sharp ends heading towards her head, the scientist hits the deck as the knives pass over head. Seems these tunnels are lined with boobytraps. No doubt that these man made caverns are stuffed with them. Gotta find a way to keep from tripping them, but how? Its then that she turns her attention to the sewage waters below. As regretful of a choice it may seems, she may have no other one to take. Just pretend its not a river of hazardous biological waste made up the potential thousands of people from the surface. Just trick the brain into thinking its something you love, like cola, or pink lemonade, or liquid lime cream. After taking a moment to psychologically prepare herself, she takes the plunges into the underground river. A moment in the waters and Clara soon resurfaces in utter disgust. Oh god! It’s not working! The self psychological trickery isn’t working! It’s still a river of piss and shit! Her plan to evade the life threatening traps fails anyway, as countless pikes begins to spring out from the waters. Quickly, she flails back to the edge of the river, evading any spikes that pop out from the depths of the sewage. All around her, wooden pikes erupt from the waters, some of them tearing through her clothes as feeling their wood brush past her very skin. She swerves past any that poke out in front of her, using them to push herself closer to safety. She manages to dodge the springing spikes by the skin of her teeth and climb back to the concrete walkway. Upon the side of the sewer does her entire body drip liquid sewage down her lab coat. Well, that seemed to be an utter waste of time. Not only does she smell like shit, she looks like it too. Damn shame. Liked this coat too. Oh well, its intact enough to wear it. Just gotta tear off the torn bits. Oh well. If she can’t take the dive down in the river, the scientist will just have to take things slow. However, right on that very thought does a familiar voice ring through the brick tunnel. “Where are you!? Come back!?” Hearing the voice of the bastard that thrust her into these smelly escapades pushes her to make haste. Hoping to elude the overcoat dressed maniac, Clara bolts deeper into the sewers, cautiously watching her footing as she hurries. She takes plenty more random turns to try and lose her anonymous pursuer. Any tripwire she sees coming, she swiftly hops over. For any pressure plates she spots, she leaps across. The scientist manages to evade most of the death traps scattered throughout the cavernous sewers, that is until she makes an inconspicuous turn. Around the corners, she comes to a screeching halt, wide eyed at what was at the dead end. Dozens and dozens of cages, filled to the brim with feral, crazed eyed rats. All of them lose their minds upon site of the scientist, their squirming bodies squeezing against the bars of their cages Such a site makes the scientist take a wary step back, wishing to gain as much distance from the flesh hungry vermin as possible. She feels her heart quickly sink however upon the sound of a small click reaching her ears from below. Taking a glance down, she’s found herself having stepped on a pressure plate beneath her feet. She hears the sound of the cages doors unlock, the countless rats pouring out as their cage doors open. Clara doesn’t waste any time to the flee from the swarm and darts down the tunnels of the sewers. In her efforts to loose the approaching pack of rats, the scientist takes every corner she can and jumps across every river of sewage she comes to. But no matter what methods she uses to outrun the oncoming swarm, the rats always manage to find a way to close the distance she gains from them. Soon, the fuzzy pack of rapid vermin begin to encroach near Clara’s feet in their pursuit, the scientists breath beginning to wain. Nearing her moment of demise, she manages to spot a sign of salvation in her path. A gloved palm, open downwards and awaiting for her own accepting hand in escaping the approaching horde. The countless vermin nearing her feet, she eagerly jumps towards the open palm. Leaping towards the awaiting hand, she reaches out towards her unknown rescuer with her grasp mere inches away. She begins to drop back down towards the awaiting horde of rats, ready to devour her flesh and bone. Right on the verge of descending into the waiting teeth of the plague below, the hand reaches out and takes hold of the scientist grip. The arm swiftly pulls Clara up from the swarm, the scientist herself lifting her legs out from their reach. She watches as the stream of vermin eventually travel away from the hanging pair, Clara letting out a massive sigh. “Thanks a bunch. I don’t know what I’d-” Clara begins to thank, but stops her gratitude once she looks up to the identity of her savior. “You!” Grasping at her palm be the anonymous man, dressed in the body sized overcoat. The very same one she was attempting to elude. Both of them land back upon the clear concrete walkway, Clara beginning to backing away from the man. “Hang on minute! I’m not gonna hurt you! I swear!” he tries to mention. “Oh yeah! Like I’d believe that after you dumped me in a death trap filled sewer!” “If you didn’t run, I could have guided you safely to our base.” “Your base is in the sewer of all places?” “It’s the only way we can hide from the Canadian troops. Those trap you ran into were meant to keep people out. You’re lucky your flashlights and screaming lead me to you, else you would have wound up as Swiss cheese for the rats to clean up.” “Yeah, fine. Just get me outta here already.” “After all that and I don’t even get a thanks?” “You lucky you don’t get a kick in the teeth for dragging me down here. Now show me the way out or I’ll find it myself.” “Oh ho, I don’t think you’ll be finding your way around this maze from hell anytime soon. I’m the only one of us that knows this place like the stitch count of my coat. A round comfy 400 threads. Unless you wanna wind up as bits and pieces flowing through the river of piss, you ain’t gotta choice but to come with.” The man can can hear an audible growl escape from his guests mouth as he awaits for her answers; she drags her hands across her face before finally admitting: “Alright, you win. Please lead out from these dank caverns, my humble savior.” “Come on. There’s no need for that.” As promised, the anonymous individual navigates Clara through the deadly dank maze, turning the occasional corner and swerving around one or two traps. While the two travel along the underground canal, the scientist hears her overcoat dressed guide attempt to give his pardons with: “Listen, uh...I kinda get why your pissed right now. I wanna apologize for any kind of distress I may have caused. It’s just...with the Canadians constantly snooping around the city, we have to take every kind of precaution we can think of. That’s why I tried to push you off the pier back there. Can’t really blame ya for trying to fight back and all. Hell, those docks I took you to probably make the perfect set for a murder mystery movie.” Looking back, the man finds his apology to have little effect, the scientist still refusing to even look in his direction. “...Tell ya what. To make up for all the crap I’ve put you through, you can help yourself to a couple of cans on the house. Just mention the Dandy sent you.” Once the mention of free food had reached her ears, Clara’s eyes dart towards her guide. “You can even get yourself some water to give yourself a shower.” “Errm...” “It’s clean water. I promise.” Although her suspicions are still set at an all time high, the scientist begins to ease herself a bit. Besides, the offer of a shower sounds all too promising to ignore after all that she’s been through. Eventually, Clara is guided toward a light at the end of a tunnel, the man that lead her looking back with wide eyes and a gleeful giggle. “Now, feast your eyes upon the mighty stronghold of the Niagara resistance!” Beyond the darkness of the tunnel, the scientist beheld a wide open area, reminisce to that of an underground subway lobby. Built around were small buildings made from cheap looking splintery wood planks and discarded piping. Some sported spray painted signs to differentiate between living quarters, bars, and other miscellaneous services. Congregating among them be dozens of others garbed in rags and rough combat gear, mingling and playing among one another. Overall, the place kinda looked rundown and decrepit; sort of like one of those super old doll play sets worn down and beaten into by the cruel hands of time and reckless snot nosed children. To that end, the scientist can’t help but let out a wary groan. “I know it kinda looks like a dank shit hole now. But once we manage to take down some of the Canadians forces and steal their stuff, we’ll really improve on things. Til then, we get by on whatever we can get our hands on.” It’s in the midst of this introduction that the sound of an excited shrill reaches their ears. Ahead of them, a rough looking punk woman came swiftly on the approach. From her purple lipped mouth, a name eagerly shouts out. “Dandy!” The punk meets up with the anonymous man with a tight embrace, Clara looking away as she hears the suggestive sounds of loud snogging and sloppy slurping emitting from the two. Their amorous mouths soon part from one another, the punk adding to her loving greeting with: “Oh baby, I missed you so much.” A light chuckle escapes from the mans lips, him returning with: “I missed you two Shoa. I didn’t think I’d get a taste of your luscious lips again with you going out on that last mission.” “Baby, you know I’m always up for action. Either in the heat of action or in our moments of passion, I got enough steam to keep going all night long.” “Energetic as always. That’s why I love you.” The couple begin to laugh among themselves, but the punk halts her giggling once she catch site of the scientist behind her honey. “Uh, Babe...Who the fucks the bitch behind ya?” Parting from their embrace, the Dandy begins to introduce his punk love to Clara with: “Oh yeah! Sweets, this little lady that I brought with me here is Clara. She came to help out the cause.” Amidst his introduction, Clara takes note of the punks less then welcoming gaze; her narrow eyes and sour frown making it quite clear the scientist of what exactly Shoa thinks of her. In turn, Clara tucks her head down, her lab coat collar brushing against her cheek. Drawing breath through her teeth, the punk lets out a slight hiss. “Babe, come on. You promised me you wouldn’t bring home anymore strays. We can’t just take in any random ho you find on the streets; don’t know what tricks those Canadian might try to pull.” “Hone, relax. I’d know if she was planted, okay? Beside, she managed to survive some of the traps that we set up through the tunnels. Anyone who manages that’s gotta be pretty handy to have around, right?” Shoa begins to look away from her hubby, an uncertain groan leaving her lungs. “Hey. You know, if I didn’t bring home as many people as I do...” In the midst of his sentence, the overcoated Dandy pinches his punks chin and directs her attention to his tender eyes. “I wouldn’t have ever met the most rockin punk I’d ever laid eyes on.” This endearing comment makes the punk face flush red and a giggle escape through her smile. “Aw dammit Dandy. You always know how to make me melt. I’ll let it slide this time.” “Great!” With that, the anonymous man takes a light grasp of his girls shoulder and adds: “I gotta report into the boss and tell him what I discovered while I was out. Mind if you get Clara sped up on things?” “Don’t worry about a thing, baby. I’ll make sure she knows how things work around here.” The dandy then departs with a kiss goodbye from his punk mistress. As Shoa waves his overcoat babe with his leave, the scientist behind her can’t help but wonder if she should be reeling back. That glare that punk gave her earlier definitely showed signs of hostility; looking like she was carving Clara skin with those dagger eyes of hers. But then again, dealing with the constant threat of the Canadian forces could wain anybodies trust down to a thread. Plus, the scientist hasn’t exactly gave a good first impression herself. Betting breaking the ice might get things to cool down. Maybe sharing some stories and a cup of tea will lighten the mood. Determined to break through, Clara slowly starts to approach the back of her punk host with a friendly salutations. The time she traversed through the mutant forest always gets people talking. “So uh, you’d probably got some good fight stories to tell, don’t you? I got some pretty good tales to tell myself. See, this one time, I was going through this forest made entirely of- Before she could continue to recount her daring escapades, Clara soon feels the hard and aggressive punch of the punks fist clock her in the jaw. The swift blow manages to knock her down onto the tile floor below, Clara covering her jaw as she reels back from the surprise attack. Laying upon the cold hard concrete, Shoa’s imposing shadow blankets the scientist as the punk looks down upon Clara with a fierce scowl. “Listen up, you lab coated, rank ass ho. I didn’t get the second in command of the resistance as my boy toy just by surviving a couple harmless death traps. I fought dozens of those armored bastards that walk above us, taking on their laser armed asses with nothing but my bare fists to get that far. I ain’t about to lose all that to some random scientist dressed slut.” As she warns and insults the scientist, the punk slowly encroaches upon Clara, eventually backing her against the stone wall. “You try even a flash, wink, or even a nudge to him and I’ll shove my spiked boot up your tight little vag so deep, that you’ll be bleeding all year round. Got it?” With that question, the punk looks upon the scientist as she awaits her response, their faces mere inches away from one another. Not a single peep escapes from Clara’s lips, she repeatedly bops her head to agree, just hoping it get her to go away. Luckily, the punk retreats upon her response, leaving the scientist lying upon the cold stone tile. Once losing site of Shoa, she slowly picks herself off the ground; her legs refusing to stop wriggling as she rises. Jesus, the swings on some people. Nearly thought the jawline got fractured for a minute there. Still, given her boasts after which, its probably a safe bet to say that she was hold back there. Don’t know what really happen if she swung with full force. Forget the jaw, that bitch could knock the scientist’s head off. In any other case, it’d probably be smart to just bail while no ones looking. Unfortunately, an entire sewer maze filled with deadly trap and flesh eating vermin stand in the way to freedom. Probably wind up as a lifeless, chewed up pile of bones clogging the drain pipes. Still, she does have one point. The scientist is rank as all hell. Gotta find a shower before the stank burns the senses of her nasal cavity. Wondering along the resistance base, she notes the signs situated near the makeshift buildings show which ones are which. A little medical center, a small dining bar, a resting place, most of the commodities one would need to get by. Though the site of the dining bar makes her stomach beg with a loud rumble, now ain’t the time for food. Gotta find a bathroom around this joint before the scientist starts to attract small insects. Through all the splintery huts and rusted hovels, she manages to find one building with a small sign labeled: “Clean water”. Upon the site does the scientist literally sprint inside; god be damned all who stand in her way of her much needed wash. Within, Clara halts her sprint at the front desk, her hand constantly pounding the bell set along the top. Soon, a woman swiftly rises from underneath, her head taking the form of a banana. “What!? What!? What do ya want!?” her shrill voice wonders. With a sharp slap to its surface, Clara smacks her hand upon the desk and demands: “I’d like to take a shower!” “And I like to get some fucking sleep. What’s your point?” “Uh...Someone told me that I could wash up here.” the scientist repeats, her tone calmly drawing back. “Ha ha! You know hard it his to come across clean water in these times, especially down here? Folks around here need every drip we-” In the start of her rant, the woman at the desk begin to take note of Clara’s fowl odor. She reels back with her nose pinched tight. “Ah!...Aaah!...Jesus fuck!...God!...What the hell have you been wallowing in!?” “Sewer water.” “God dammit! Get the hell outta my establishment!” “But...I need something to get rid of this rank stench. And I ain’t leaving until I get some.” In response to her refusal to exit, the woman behind the counter pulls out a shotgun, its barrel aimed squarely at the scientist’s face. Clara soon puts her hands up and is quick to reveal her guides request. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hang on a sec! Dandy sent me! Dandy sent me!” Upon those word does the clerk lower her firearm, a frustrated sigh escaping past her lips. “Fine, wait here a sec.” With that, she quickly scampers out into the back room, leaving Clara alone to wait. As she waits for the clerks returns, she spots a man resting upon a chair in the corner, pinching his nose as he stares at the scientist. Clara tries to flash her a smile, yet all she gets in response is his swift departure. Yeah, kinda figured that be the proper reaction. As quickly as she left, the woman returns with a bucket in her grasp. She slams the pail upon the desk, the water within sloshing about. “There. Take it.” “...A bucket? Don’t you guys have like a shower or-” “Just take it and leave!” The woman screaming for her to depart, Clara snatches the pail and bolts out of the building. Once the scientist had left, the woman lets out a relieved breath. “Shit smelled like dying rats.” After finding somewhere private to wash she gets to work on cleansing herself of her accursed scent. Rubbing her skin, wringing her clothes, washing her hair, all the things she needs to clean quickly in the comfort of her own privacy. Out from the shelter of her private sanctum does she walk, taking in the refreshed scent from her body. Not exactly ocean fresh, but she’ll take anything to not smell like decaying horse carcasses. Its then that her stomach lets out an agonizing scream, the outcry making her decide that it was time for diner. Don’t really wanna use any of the rations in her pack though. Best just cash in Dandy’s word down at the bar. A step inside the bar and the scientist takes herself a stool along the counter. Hardly turns and squeaky as a manatee, but the soft pillow bottom makes the seat more then worth its quirks. Approaching her be the waiter, asking the scientist: “Waddya want?” Feelings clean as a whistle and as smooth as silk, she turns towards him with a suave smile and places her order. “I’ll like something that’ll fill up my gullet to the brim. A request from Dandy himself.” “Ugh, fine.” With these words, the waiter retreats into the backroom of the bar. From the window behind the counter, the scientist could see him walk to a big box of cans in the far back. She wonders if that single box is all they have to feed everyone here, given that is all she can make out from the stool. Despite the small number of people dwelling in these urban caverns compared to the ones above, its safe to say that a supply of that size would deplete in about a week, at best. Not really sure that Clara would feel comfortable speeding that process along. Perhaps a closer look would put her worries to rest. Before she could even hop off her seat however, the waiter quickly comes back out. As she swiftly sits back into her stool, she looks away from him to try and seem inconspicuous. The waiter slams the open can on the counter, a plastic spoon resting at its side. Clara looks down upon the tin cans contents, beholding the inside to be filled with a brownish mush of sort. “Uh...Wha-what am I looking at here?” she wonder aloud. “Hash. Take it or leave it.” With that, the waiter leaves the scientist so that he may attend to other patrons. Although wary with the contents of her dinner, she never the less grasp the plastic spoon to the cans side. Slowly, she scoops out a spoonful of the supposed hash, some of the leftover meat dripping back down into the can. Carefully, she guides the spoon towards her mouth, clasping the hash with her teeth by a few bits. Once in her mouth, Clara carefully chews the bit of hash and swallows the pieces down her throat. The initial taste stuck in her mouth, a primal urge soon overcomes here; driving the scientist to shovel the rest of it down her gullet. Something about the soft texture and meaty bits makes the girl want to shove the whole can down her throat. She soon empties the entire can in record time, slamming the tin back down upon the counter with bits left along her mouth. As she regains her breath, she licks the leftovers off her lips. Never really thought that the taste of chopped up meat and potatos would be so tantalizing. Almost makes a girl wanna chop her own arm off for more. As she savors the waning tastes of the hash, her ears catch the midst of an ongoing conversation. “So they still ain’t back yet?” “Nah man. Haven’t heard about em.” Trailing the sound to her side, she looked towards a near full booth on the edge of the bar. Three gents sat along the table, opened cans sat in front of them. The small one stood out from his slump and slams the table before exclaiming: “Dammit! Where the hell could they be? That son of a bitch still owes be a can of peaches.” The middle sized fellow attempts to inform the ill tempered dwarf by mentioning: “I hear that Jack and Danny were sent out to retrieve more food. Whatever they can get their grubby mitts on.” Its then that the larger gent of the group tries to calm the smallest of their pose with: “Yeah, calm yourself, Mults. Sure they’ll be back any minute now.” “But they’ve been gone for like hours. Danny shouldn't have brought Jack along; he’s always doing something stupid.” “He has a point. Reckless guy like that’s bound to wind up dead. Surprised he’s lasted this long already.” “Sam, come on. Don’t talk like that.” the behemoth suggests. Soon the trio hear the ring of the door, all of them looking over to find a single man in rags and out of breath. “Hey Jack. How’d the hunt go?” the lumbering man greets with a welcoming smile. “Yeah. What the hell took ya so long?” Mults rudely adds. “Where’s Danny? Is he trying to take a peek of Shoa again? Swear, when that bitch caught him, broke one of his teeth and shoved straight down his nose.” “I...He’s…He’s dead.” Upon those words do all of them grow still and silent, Sam breaking the quiet with: “Dead?...Danny?...Come on, man. Saw the guy squeeze himself out of a horde of troopers without a scratch.” “Yeah, you fucking liar. What actually happened?” the dwarf questions. “It, uh-...It was-...We were at the park, and Danny spotted this tree, and then swipes the dampener and charged at full force. He just told me “Don’t worry. I got this bro.” and he rushed for the lemons. I tried to warn him that the force field dampener was outta juice, but he was already sprinting at full speed and didn’t hear me. Next, thing I know, I see his entire body just turn into ash in the wind. I...didn’t know what else to...” Struggling to form the rest of his story, the man devolves into a crying mess kneeling on the floor. “Guys...I don’t think he’s kidden around.” the lumbering giant enforces. Done with her free meal, the scientist decides it best to leave. Best exit quick before that scene gets anymore depressing. In her wonder through the base, Clara’s eyes are drawn to the Dandy himself, waving for her attention. Once the scientist had began to approach him, he lets out an ecstatic greet. “Heyo! Glad to see you washed and fed, cause I got good news for you.” Although good news is what she hears, the scientist has learn to expect anything but by this point. “Yeah, what ya got for me.” “I managed to talk the boss into snagging you on a mission. See, there’s this power plant that the Canadians had built downtown that runs electricity all through Niagara. Without it, the Canadians won’t have any hope of charging their high powered equipment. It’d take em about a week trip just to power their rifles. So we plan on blowing it up!” “Oh uh, alright. When do I start?” A nervous chuckle escapes from the anonymous individual as he scratches the back of his head before he admits: “Funny thing is, your inclusion was sort of um...last minute. And by that I mean quite literally. You need to go before the train leaves...Like right now.” “What!? Which way is it!?” “It’s in the subway tunnel! Follow me!” With that command, the Dandy begins to swiftly guide out scientist once more. Sliding out from the corner, both of them rush along the resistance base halls. Their footstep bounce across the walls as they race down. Reaching into the depths of his mysterious garb, he adds one more statement as they dash. “Almost forget to give you something. You’ll need it on the mission.” From his overcoat, the Dandy pulls out a ski mask decorated to look like a dog, handing it to the scientist as its plush ears flop in the breeze. “A ski mask?” “Yeah. To protect your identity in the midst of the attack.” Watching the little knitted muzzle bounce up and down in their hurry, a single question escapes Clara’s lips. “Why does it look like a dog?” “Sorry. It was the only one I could nab on such short notice. Don’t exactly have much in terms of disguises.” “Can’t I just, I don’t know, borrow your coat instead?” “My signature overcoat? Out of the question. This magnificent garb is what defines my very identity- nay, my persona. The Delphic Dandy!” “...What the hell kinda name is that?” My point is that my overcoat is what defines my existence in this world. To discard it would be like one discarding their very heart. Can’t you imagine what I’d be without it.” “A dude without an overcoat?” “Exactly!” Upon this final cry, Clara fails to understand his reasoning. Ah well, weirdo’s be weird, she guesses. Coming to the end of the hall, both of them have the subway train in their site as it readies to depart. Racing across the platform, the scientist reaches out for the tail of the train, her grip aimed upon the railing. Her ride beginning to flee, Clara jumps for the train and successfully grabs hold of the rails. Her trouble aren’t over yet, as she still has yet to actually board, her legs scuttling across the tracks as the train picks up speed. She begins to loose her ground, nearing the verge of her body being dragged across the steel railway. But with a mighty leap, the scientist manages to finally board the leaving train, landing upon the back platform with a hearty sigh. Clara looks back to the man that managed to help her catch her ride and finds him waving her goodbye. In goodwill of all that he’s offered her, she decided to do the same. In spite of the less then stellar first impressions, perhaps the Dandy isn’t all that bad of a guy after all.

[stripesthesupervillain]

The Mad Hatter’s Guild to Happiness: Chapter 3

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Summary: The drive continues as the day wanes on. The two criminals talk, finding out a bit more about each other.

Warning: Headcanons. Just... headcanons.

Because of this, we were unable to get this letter to you on time.

Jervis took another sip of the sweet tea, smacking his lips a little as he closed the bottle. “I should have just asked for water,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Why is that? So you can stick your tea bags in there for an impromptu tea party?” Jonathan asked, and although he hadn’t meant for it to be funny, he gained some pleasure from the wince Tetch had in response. “Honestly, Hare, I do think you find me to be some type of heathen,” the Englishman huffed, turning his head away. The doctor was unable to tell if his companion was joking or not, but he would let the ‘Hare’ slip-up pass for now, seeing as he was in a slightly better mood from that little bit of conversation. It wasn’t that he hated the nickname (although a rabbit wasn’t exactly the best nickname for the Master of Fear), but it was more that he didn’t want Jervis to slip up in the future.

“Twinkle twinkle little bat,” the Hatter hummed to himself, setting his drink down. Jonathan turned to look at him, shaking his head in disapproval. The smaller man pouted slightly, but still stopped anyways, crossing his legs on the seat and leaning back. As much as he had grown used to it, any Wonderland references were also prohibited; Jonathan didn’t want to risk Jervis having one of his more worse schizophrenic outbursts while they were on this drive. That was also why he bought (now considered stolen) a little something extra from the store while they were there. Tetch had yet to know about it, seeing as he only thought Jonathan had gone in for his tea.

“So, if you really wanted to go on this trip, why not take a plane? You have the money,” the curious man asked casually. An easy enough question. “I would, but air security are pretty much trained to recognize us. Wouldn’t want someone hijacking the plane, would they?” he explained, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “I would fly myself if it weren’t for recognition issues. Are you telling me you’ve never flown back to England?”  

“Of course I have,” Jervis replied, folding his hands in his lap. “Once or twice, though, since I usually have no reason to. I usually take the trip by ship, though, as the costs are undoubtably better and I get recog- wait.” He stopped himself, furrowing his brow as he finally seemed to process something. He looked back up at the driver. “Come again? What do you mean you could ‘fly yourself’?” Jonathan gave the other a shrug as he kept his eyes on the road, only glancing down at him once. “I have a biplane I’ve kept in storage for who knows how long. I haven’t taken it out in almost two years.”

Jervis took a moment to think about this. “Jonathan, mate, are you saying you know how to fly?” He seemed almost incredulous. Crane felt a smirk appear on his lips at the other’s amusing bewilderment, answering with a nod. “Why yes, I do. I learned the ropes from a farmer that lived only a mile or so from my home. He owned a biplane, you see. He gave me a few lessons in exchange for help around the farm. I improved my skills years later so I could make attempt at spreading fear. It was a simple fear gas and crop duster gimmick; something I came up with long before we ever met.”

Tetch stayed silent, processing this for a moment. “Does this count for commercial planes, too?” he asked suddenly, as if having a plan. Crane was quick to shake his head. “No no, I can only pilot single-engine planes. Anything major is far too complex for me.” Jervis happened to find this rather amusing, seemingly quick to tease him. Unfortunately, the infamous Master of Fear was also well known for having little to no sense of humor. A laugh at a joke from Jonathan was akin to a unicorn landing in your front lawn. “Oh? Are a few buttons and levers too complicated for the Master of Fear to handle?” he tittered, a hand coming up to slightly cover his overbite as he jested. “Oh please, I’m a doctor, not a master of aeronautical engineering,” the psychiatrist scoffed. “Oh? Au contraire, Crane. I’m a neuroscientist,” the smaller man argued, “and yet I discovered the beauties of controlling the mind through cards that I’ve made myself.”

“Oh don’t give me that,” Crane huffed. “You actually have a degree in biotechnology, so of course you know how to regulate a few synapses.”  

Jervis rested a hand on his chin, giving a small nod of concession. “Alright, I see your point. Fine, what else are you well-versed in? And do make it a talent that doesn’t relate to your chosen profession.”

Jonathan tensed up slightly, his mind racing to find an example of something he was at least proud to say he was able to do. While he could read mind and expressions like a preschooler’s first book, every thug and criminal based in Gotham knew that. Well, he was fairly good at one thing in particular when he was usually alone and at home, relaxed, but he’d first be struck down by the heavens themselves before he would readily admit that as an example.

“Martial arts,” he finally came up with, but Jervis quickly shook his head. “I said it can’t relate to your profession.”

“What? What does self-defense have to do with being a psychiatrist?” Jonathan spat, only to see the opposer giggle with mirth. “Oh? Then what’s your current occupation?” he hummed, causing the doctor to pause. Okay, he had a point there. He grimaced, racking his mind for anything else, before finally throwing his hand up. “Fine… I’m a fairly talented…” he mumbled something under his breath. Jervis cocked a brow, leaning closer. “I beg your pardon?” he grinned, beckoning a louder answer. “Is whispering that special talent of yours? Because frankly, my dear Jonathan, I couldn’t hear a word you said.” Crane was quick to place a hand on the other’s face, shoving him back.  “Oh never you mind!” he scowled, turning his head away from the passenger’s growing laughter. He had half a mind to drop him off here and now, even if it might be his fault that he couldn’t take a joke. “Besides, I already have piloting under my belt, not to mention I am an astounding chemist. I’m sure you have no other talent besides making a semi-decent cup of tea.”

Jervis didn’t have as much trouble as his friend had in deciding what to say. “Only a few things, really. Two of them I’m rather good at I’d say. I’m fairly experienced in playing piano, a skill I enjoy putting to use with a few songs from my favorite book. I’m also flu- I’m sorry, did you say ‘semi-decent’?”

Crane gave a small shake of his head, pretending like he’d never uttered the words. “No no, continue,” he urged. “What’s the other thing?” He received an annoyed look, but he still resumed nonetheless. “I’m bilingual,” he finished. “Other than that, I suppose I’ve got a few know-hows in chemistry, but that’s it.” Now Jonathan was the one who was intrigued. “Are you? In what?” he inquired. “French,” he answered. “I thought you knew that already.”

The doctor shook his head. “The idea never really crossed my mind, to be honest. Sure, you use a few French phrases here and there, but I just thought those were words the English put to use from time to time.” The Englishman nodded in acknowledgement. “C'est vrai, mais non,” he grinned, grabbing his bottle and going to take a sip from it. “True, but not for me. I don’t suppose you know a language, too, do you?”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Oh don’t get all haughty with me,” he huffed, his voice quick dripping with a thick sarcasm. “Yes yes, I, the dumb American, have never had the time nor motivation to learn an entire language, as well as an instrument more complicated than a triangle.” This apparently pushed Jervis over the edge, for he burst into a fit of laughter whilst he drank, nearly spilling the beverage over the car’s interior. “Oh don’t be so hard on yourself,” he giggled, closing his bottle. “Though I suppose it’s true that our tastes are more refined than yours.”

“If you’re going to be so vainglorious about yourself and your country, why not move back to England, then?” Jonathan asked. “I can hardly understand why you even bothered to move to Gotham in the first place.”  

“Work opportunities,” he explained. “And I just needed some time away. Besides, it’s not like I learned all those things just for fun. My- ahem, my mother was rather serious about my education when I was young.” Jonathan noticed the slip and pause when his partner mentioned his mother, but let Jervis continue talking. “And French took a bloody eternity to even begin to master. Had Alice not been there for support and help, I’m sure I would have given up long ago.”

Crane glanced over, slightly interested in the reveal of an “Alice”. He decided to pursue it, though he knew he had to stop should he see any signs of disgruntlement. Being the curious psychiatrist he was, though, he was more than eager to pry. “Alice?” he questioned. “As in…?”

“A childhood friend,” Tetch was quick to explain. “Back when I was just a lad.”  

“Were you close?” Jonathan asked, wanting to know more. The response was a simple nod, so he continued. “Do you two still keep in touch?” To this, Jervis responded with a “no”. “She disappeared a while back,” he explained with a sigh. “Back before all… of this.” He looked up at the other, intertwining his fingers. “She was my closes friend. You would have loved her, really. Sweetest girl you would have ever met.”  

“I’m sure I would have,” Jonathan hummed in agreement. “What ever happened to her?”  

“She’s just gone,” he said, not even taking time to consider the question. Curt answers meant he was pulling away. He decided those four questions were enough for now. He would just have to ask during tomorrow’s drive. For now, he had to pull back before the mood staled further.

Another game of chess would probably pass the time and cheer him up.

“It’s getting rather late and I’ve been driving for hours,” Jonathan sighed, checking the time. The sun was beginning to set and the now dull songs that played on the radio was starting to grate on his nerves. “We’re getting out at the next motel up ahead.”

Jervis looked up from his phone in mild interest at the small town they had found themselves in, smiling and giving an understanding nod. He took another look down at his phone, seemingly searching for something. Once he found it, though, he frowned. “Oh, blimey, you were closer. It was two hundred seventy-three.”

“Thought so!” Jonathan smiled, giving himself a mental pat on the back. “That’s another point for me, Tetch. I’m in the lead, 7-6.” Jervis just gave a small chuckle. “Alright, if you win the next point, this will be the last one,” he sighed. “I will gladly admit defeat to your superior memory. Now, you have the honors of picking the event.”

“Hmm… Professor Pyg,” the doctor decided on. “During his crime spree after he broke out last month. I’m going to guess… seventeen victims.” Jervis nodded, now thinking of his own number. “If I know Pyg, which I do, he wouldn’t do so many at a time. I’ll say… ten.” And with that, he began typing on his phone to look up some of the latest news articles on Pyg. As he did so, they came across a small motel up ahead. A few cars were parked there, but there was really no worry. Now further away from Gotham, it was less likely the two would be recognized.  

“Oh sod it all,” Jervis grumbled in annoyance, before bringing a hand up to cover his filthy mouth. “Oh, I apologize for my language.” Jonathan merely smirked, pulling into the parking lot. “How many victims were there?”

“Fifteen victims,” Tetch sighed, already getting out. “You win 8-6.” The other criminal was soon following, going to the trunk to pull out their bags. “You may trade your secrets with the man, but I’m the one whose studied him,” he grinned to himself. “What a charmed life you must lead to spend your time doing so,” Jervis replied, grabbing his own personal bag and helping his friend take out everything but the large scythe. Bringing that in wouldn’t be a very smart idea.  

“And now, as punishment, you have to be the one to talk to the fool at the front desk,” Crane hummed, giving his comrade a nudge with his elbow. The haberdasher begrudgingly agreed and made his way inside. With a quick look around, he was pleased to see a little station in the lobby for coffee and hot water for tea. The lady at the front counter looked up at him in disinterest, gesturing to a sign in sheet. She didn’t recognize him, that was good. He supposed he was glad for the lack of conversation, although he was more than willing to strike one up with any random person. He was quick to write down a false name. The woman sauntered over to the key board and grabbed a set, handing it over. “Room B6. Second floor,” she told him. He gave a nod and grabbed the keyring from her. “Good day, madam,” he said kindly, immediately cursing himself on the inside for saying it. She cocked an eyebrow, now seemingly more attentive. “Whoa. You British?” she asked, leaning over the counter with her top half propped up on her elbows. Well, he supposed there was no choice in backing out now. He gave a curt nod, tucking the key into his pocket. “Yes, English,” he clarified, before quickly but casually making his way to the door. He gave a quick “thank you” before leaving. Once he was out the door, he immediately smacked himself on the forehead for being so stupid. While sure, being English wasn’t a dead giveaway, he was still fairly identifiable, what with the overbite when he smiled or his short stature. Still, it wasn’t like he could kill her, not that he really wanted to in the first place. He merely sighed and hoped for the best, going over to his companion and leading him to their room.

Once inside, Jervis dropped his bags near the left bed and flopped directly onto it.

“Fine, it looks like I’ll take the right one,” Jonathan shrugged, setting his items down onto the other bed and unpacking his phone to take a quick check. “I could really use a bit of water. Do they have any of that in the lobby?” he asked. Jervis checked his phone with an eager nod. “Yes, they do, around the little sitting area. Oh, and they have hot water for tea. Do you want me to get you some?” Jonathan shook his head, already heading to the door. “I’ll do it, don’t worry,” he sighed, pulling his coat from his bag and tugging it on.  

“Are you sure?”

“Yes yes. Take a shower or something while I’m gone.” And with that, he left, heading down to the lobby. He went about completely ignoring the woman at the front desk as he passed and looking over the refreshments. He grabbed a bottle of water for himself before pouring some hot water quickly making his way back to their room. To his relief, Jervis was following his advice and taking a shower as his friend returned. That would leave him only a few minutes.

Jonathan acted quickly and pulled out a tea bag from Jervis’ stash, dipping it into the steaming water to sit. He then pulled out the bottle of sleeping pills he had taken from the gas station. He took out two, taking out a small pocket knife and using it to chop up and crush them into a fine powder. He scooped up the medication and poured them into the steeping tea, using the bag itself to stir in the pills until they could no longer be seen. Only a minute later did Jervis step out, fully clothed and drying his wet hair. He was quick to notice the prepared tea, picking it up with a smile.  

“Oh how amiable you are!” he grinned, picking up the cup and, seeing that it was ready, throwing away the bag. He took small sips, sitting down on his bed and looking over at Jonathan, who was calmly working on a crossword booklet whilst he laid in his own bed. “So, what was the name you used for the front desk?” he asked his shorter partner, looking over from his puzzle. Jervis sat cross-legged on the bed, smiling as he sipped his drink. “Oh, a simple one. Nigel Evans.”

All was silent for a moment, until Jonathan couldn’t help it. He turned around, not showing his face and already getting under the blanket. The other male obviously saw nothing wrong with the name, but his friend seemed disgruntled by it. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Oh…. It’s nothing.”

“No, tell me! Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s just…” Jonathan said slowly, “I never thought you would be able to choose a more British name, but you did, and it astonishes me.”

“Oh shush your mouth!” Jervis laughed, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at the other occupant, who didn’t find it as humorous. The pillow was easily caught and thrown back. He looked over with a small smile at the window beside him, gazing out at the setting sun. He finished off his tea and grabbed his favorite book.  

“I barely feel tired at all,” he commented, looking over at the time. “I suppose I’ll be up for a good few hours, so don’t lose any winks because of me, alright?” Jonathan just gave a nod, barely listening.

Within an hour, Jervis was passed out on the bed, hugging the pillow he had once chucked at his roommate. Jonathan sat up, looking over at the sleeping form with a hint of suspicion. “That should keep you out until the morning,” he sighed, setting down his book and turning off the nightstand lamp. “I apologize, but I refuse to have you ruin anything overnight with your crazed delusions.” He slumped into bed as his muttered out the last words, quickly falling asleep in a matter of minutes.

[joiedevivrevehicles]

What it Really Takes to Make Renault's F1 Cars Go Fast

We’re passionate about Renault vehicles and knowing what goes in to keep them driving excellently! We found this insightful article and thought you’d enjoy it too!

It’s hardly surprising Renault gave us a high-performance Megane 220 RS model so we could rock up at the Renault F1 team headquarters in deepest Oxfordshire. The car drives like a go-kart and takes us through the sharp countryside curves like it’s on rails before spitting us out in the car park of Enstone.

This is the former site of a stone quarry and has been the home of a Formula 1 team since 1992. It’s also prime British countryside, so the facility has had to be built into, rather than on top of, the old industrial site. Enstone is decidedly low rise, with some sections actually built underground. And expansion has had to be smart, innovative and eco-friendly in order to happen at all.

A short while later we’re talking with new recruits from the Renault Sport Academy, who coincidentally have all built up their driving skills as youthful go-kart drivers. The guys are young – so young in fact that one of them has yet to pass his test to drive a car on the road. After a quick retrospective on the facility and Renault’s plans for the future, as part of a six-year vision for winning, we head towards the HQ’s inner sanctum.

We see some genuinely amazing things during our tour of the Enstone facility. However, the midway point around the transmission that’s made from carbon fibre is probably the most jaw-dropping moment of the trip. It looks like some weird alien creation, a cocktail of carbon fibre and metal that feels like it could bite you. But, it’s just one of many components in an F1 car, 14,500 actually, all of which are designed using a formidable cocktail of computing power, traditional craftsmanship, and ingenuity.

To kick things off, though, we walk past rooms chock full of computers and monitors. It could be any office, to be honest. But then you see what the engineers and technicians are poring over onscreen in the design office. Here, workers who comprise just a fraction of the 700 or so employees, start fleshing out the initial details for what will become the next F1 car. While sometimes they retain bits of what has gone before, most of it is created from scratch.

As our guide points out, building F1 cars isn’t an easy or straightforward business. It takes around 150,000 hours and 19,000 CAD drawings in order to define what it’ll actually be like. Plans change by the day, sometimes by the hour, so the workforce has to be dedicated and prepared to pitch in whenever. You really get to see tangible evidence of this in the machine room later on, where a wall-mounted monitor displays the status of jobs. The progress curve sounds rather fluid, to say the least.

The willingness to go the extra mile for the cause is also flagged up in the comms room next door to the design office. It’s a darkened area, again, full of monitors, keyboards and a wall of big screens. This is like mission control for race days, where staff at the HQ can pitch in by being connected to their colleagues at any given Grand Prix and offer advice, updates and anything else needed in real-time. And that goes on no matter what the time difference or location of the race.

Through another door and we get to drill down into the core of the facility. There’s a room where we find a steering wheel which can cost between £35 and £45K. We also get a mind-blowing breakdown of the features and functions that an F1 driver has to operate in fractions of a second. It’s enough to make you weep if you struggle basics like setting your cruise control on the way home from work. It’s at this point most of us on the tour realise that F1 drivers earn their big-money wages justifiably, and then some.

Heading down some steps we gather around the skeleton of one of the cars. It’s a maze of cables, wires, connectors and lots of carbon fibre. In fact, Renault says that around 18km of the black stuff is used by the team during the course of a season. Much of the car is assembled by hand too, although the technology is such now that computers work out the best way to lay the carbon fibre matting to achieve maximum strength.

There’s a whole fabrication department inside Enstone, with clinical operating conditions that mean workers have to wear paper suits and hairnets to avoid any foreign objects entering the almost sterile environment. Elsewhere, alongside the machine shop, there are two Breton machines. These amazing creations allow the team to quickly, and more importantly accurately produce components in a fraction of the time it took before.

Testing is another critical aspect of the F1 car build. The Enstone facility has another awesome technical arrangement for this. The 7-post-rig is an area where cars can be placed on a collection of moving plates. The rig is subsequently able to replicate any course the cars race on, right down to the last little nuances of the circuit layout. Not only is this vital for current cars, it’s hugely beneficial for the development of future incarnations too.

We round out our tour of Enstone with a look at the driver-in-the-loop simulator, which is an incredibly advanced facility for developing not only the cars but also drivers, engineers, and designers. Similarly impressive is the huge wind tunnel that allows the team to test cars and components. Pitch, roll, ride height, downforce and the deformation of tyres are just a few of the issues analysed in the tunnel. However, there’s an additional tech twist in the shape of Computational Fluid Dynamics (CFD).

In short, this is the part of the F1 equation that relies on supercomputers and cutting-edge software – located in the underground part of the facility. This aspect of the R&D allows engineers to simulate the complexities of airflow in and around the car. It’s kinda like a virtual wind tunnel. It’s also great at amassing data, with 60TB of data produced with ease over the course of a typical week. And, in a world where increasingly the power is in the data, that’s critical in working out where the Renault team are going to be heading next.

Interestingly, Enstone has attracted a lot of partners and collaborators over the years, and Renault still works closely with many of them. Microsoft supplies much of the software and hardware backbone, but the facility also has strong ties with Boeing. Being connected with the aerospace industry makes perfect sense as there is much here that is created with the same tolerances. In fact, as our guide points out, they’ve probably got more in common with planes than cars, such as the complexity packed inside an F1 car. We weren’t about to disagree either.

If you’re looking for a service center that offers the best Renault service - to keep your favourite vehicle running like an F1 race car - book your service at Group 1 Renault.

Article source: https://bonjourrenault.wordpress.com/2019/10/01/232/

[eddiejpoplar]

First Drive: 2019 Audi E-Tron

To our left, a herd of impalas is fanning out into the setting sun. To the right, a solitary springbok stands frozen by a mix of curiosity and fright. In between, sand, salt, and stones stretch all the way to a horizon separated from the dark blue sky by a panoramic cloud of dust. The flat tableland at the bottom of Namibia’s Kalahari desert is ten times the size of a football field for giants—all that´s missing are the goals, the corner flags, and the faintest trace of grass.

For one day only, this flat, open expanse has been converted to a kind of freestyle rallycross stage for six 2019 Audi E-Trons coated in psychedelic swirls not unlike the rock paintings of ancient residents. Water is a precious commodity in this scorching hot basin, but thanks to a few rows of makeshift solar panels, freshly harvested electricity is not. It´s an eerie scene, spectacular yet unreal, a handful of Audis drifting almost noiselessly through no-man´s land, never changing gear or hitting a redline. Vorsprung durch CO2-neutral powerslide, so to speak.

When the dust finally settles, one can decipher cones, an unusually wide racing line, and a white tent next to what must be the start-finish line. We get five laps per driver through a nearly mile-long ribbon of corners fast and slow. The surface looks like a thin coating of toasted breadcrumbs, but it is as slippery as loose snow on frozen earth. Even with ESC on, the handling attitude changes with every blip of the throttle. Deactivate it, and your inner Sebastian Loeb will grin from ear to ear before switching to attack mode. Back in the pits, the crew routinely adjusts the tire pressures and checks the state of charge. While the miles-to-empty readout dropped a couple of digits during our fun, the battery never failed to deliver full power on demand.

Audi’s new E-Tron, aims squarely at the new Jaguar I-PACE, Mercedes EQ-C, Porsche Taycan Cross Turismo, and Tesla Model X. The silent newcomer, loosely based on the Q5 and Q7 crossovers, will be priced around $90,000. It fields two electric motors rated at up to 402 hp and 490 lb-ft, and a 95-kWh battery good for a driving range of around 250 miles.

“The E-Tron is not a one-hit wonder,” says Markus Siewert, one of several project engineers. “We can do repeat action better than anybody else. The E-Tron, for instance, accelerates ten times from nought to sixty without dropping a single tenth over the entire cycle. On the autobahn, you are invited to nail the pedal to the metal for twenty long minutes—and I promise you the top speed will not budge one bit over time. Eventually, power is progressively scaled back to prevent overheating. A similar measure is taken when the car struggles to reach the nearest charge point. But even in case the range meter drops to zero, we still have a buffer built into the system.” Although the numbers are not yet cast in stone, one source claims that the driving range of the E-Tron will be certified at 265 miles according to the WLTP norm, though how that might translate to an EPA rating for the U.S. is unclear. Even in winter, with cold motors and cold batteries, Audi says 200 miles of range is a realistic point-to-point average.

Inside, the E-Tron is more Q8 than A7. There are four displays vying for the driver´s attention. The main instrument cluster offers two different views; one prioritizes the map, the other zooms in on the two round instruments. A head-up display floats above the instruments, while the center console accommodates two touchscreens. The whole set-up looks familiar, and yet it is different in that you operate the transmission via a chrome tile which sticks out of what used to be the electronic gear selector. There´s R for reverse, D for drive, N for neutral and P for park. It���s a single-speed box, so that one and only ratio takes you all the way to 124 mph, where the limiter steps in. On paved surfaces, the electric Q can use its boost mode to accelerate to 60 mph in just 5.5 seconds. Take away that power boost and the stopwatch will read somewhere in the mid-six-second range. The car from Ingolstadt feels far from slow, but in this comparison the Audi loses a fair few ticks to the least powerful Tesla Model X, which also offers a 6-mph higher top speed

Late next year, insiders are expecting a performance version of the E-Tron rated at approximately 503 hp, but right now the maximum power output is 402 hp. Even this number is only available for ten seconds in boost mode. The next step down is called peak mode. It musters 355 hp and 414 lb-ft for up to 60 seconds. Under normal driving conditions, the E-Tron will use the rear motor primarily, which is good for 188 hp and 231 lb-ft of torque. If the driver requests more grunt, the second motor rated at 168 hp/182 lb-ft will jump in to drive the front wheels. All-wheel drive and torque vectoring are activated within milliseconds, providing top-notch traction and laser-beam stability. With ESC switched off, the rear-wheel bias invites you kick the tail out, which is a lot easier on an African salt lake than on high-grip European blacktop. Our test car was fitted with 21-inch energy saving tires, which destroyed the ride but offered plenty of cornering grip. Although the steering always tells the full story, it feels somewhat artificial throughout its range.

Powering the two induction motors is a 95-kWh high-voltage energy cell, weighing in at a whopping 1,543 lbs. The battery can be fast-charged with up to 150 kW at a network of service stations currently under construction. Audi has partnered with Electrify America to build 500 fast-charge stations in 40 states by 2019. While fast charging takes about 20 minutes, plug-in charging at home is an eight-hour affair. To speed up the process, Audi is offering a more powerful wall box and a second onboard charger. The killer app of the fast-charger? An 80-percent charge in just 30 minutes.

Inside, the E-Tron does not differ dramatically from the new Q8, A8, A7, and A6. The only obvious exceptions are the optional camera-based rear-view devices, which are lighter, narrower, and more aerodynamically slippery than conventional mirrors. They also take time to get used to, because your eyes must learn to focus on the displays in the top forward corner of the door panels. This works ok on the passenger side, but the driver finds the upright, non-adjustable screen much harder to read. On the credit side, the slim camera-equipped view finders will switch to a smaller image on the autobahn to emphasize the speed difference between fast and slow moving traffic, the system automatically extends the lateral view as soon as the indicator is set, and it dials in a bird´s eye perspective paired to a curbside zoom when parking. By tapping the intelligence of the cloud, the E-Tron driver is led to empty parking spaces, receives fog, black ice, and accident warnings, and is cautioned should a mobile speed trap pop up.

In typical Audi fashion, there are seven different choices of tune, from eco to dynamic. In addition, you are invited to dial in one of three overriding settings labeled comfortable, balanced, and sporty. The fourth option is individual, which allows you to preset stability control from steadfast to leery, dampers from quite firm to quite comfortable, steering effort from featherweight to heavyweight, and drivetrain from attentive to aggressive. The standard air suspension can be jacked up in two steps by 1.38 inches (35 mm) in allroad and by 1.97 in (50 mm) in off-road mode. Above 62mph, it automatically lowers the ride height by about 1 in (26 mm). The electronic e-quattro AWD system is significantly quicker to act and react than its combustion-powered counterpart. In fact, the energy flow to the four wheels is so rapid that the car responds to a puddle almost before it hits it. The battery pack, made up of 36 modules, is mounted between the axles as low as possible to push down the center of gravity. Measuring 193 inches in length and sitting on a 115.3-in wheelbase, the E-Tron is shorter than the Q8, narrower than the Q5 and lower than the Q7. Its cargo bay holds 28.5 cubic feet of gear (57 with the rear seats down), and yet the drag coefficient is a best in class 0.27.

The first all-electric Audi is an amazingly quiet zero-emission cruiser. Wind noise, road noise, and drivetrain noise are so well muffled that one instinctively reaches for the non-existing outside manual claxon to warn cyclists and pedestrians. The silence is in fact so overwhelming and persistent that half a decibel of extra kickdown whine would probably be quite welcome. After all, the E-Tron puts speed into perspective in a way that makes you wonder whether full throttle actually unleashes all the forward thrust there is. If our first encounter is anything to go by, the acceleration from 60mph upwards is overshadowed by the unreal mid-range urge of a Tesla 100D, the fierce low-speed pick-up of the 294-kW Jaguar i-Pace and the awesome tip-in of the 300-kW Mercedes EQ-C. The E-Tron is a quick car, no doubt. But it does not release that torque avalanche with quite the same urge and enthusiasm as its rivals.

Waftability is a key target for every electric car, and this also applies to the all-electric Audi, which comes prepared for level 3 autonomous driving as soon as it becomes legal. The vibration-free motors, the absence of virtual or actual gear changes, the punchy power delivery, and the hush-quiet noise level make this a perfectly relaxed and sufficiently brisk grand. The laid back dynamics are supported by a flat ride, nicely suppressed body movements, and enough instant oomph to pull away from trouble. Dislikes? Nose dive under hard deceleration, go-for-it take-off squat, a steering that is too light in comfort mode and too heavy in dynamic, and a set of brakes that deserves its own paragraph, together with the Audi energy regeneration strategy.

Intelligent recuperation helps to extend the driving range by up to 30 percent, says Audi. There are two different methods working hand in hand: lift-off regeneration and brake regeneration. In both cases, the e-motors act as generators and convert kinetic energy back into electric energy. By pulling the up- and downshift paddles behind the steering wheel, you may increase or decrease regeneration in two steps. Up to 0.3g of deceleration, you can either coast or make use of the regen, which is strong enough to create that coveted “one pedal” driving experience. Beyond 0.3g, the hydraulic 18-in disc brakes take over.

In regenerative braking stage 1, the car slows down at lift-off, but nine out of ten stopping maneuvers can still be executed without even touching the pedal. Stage 2 virtually doubles this regeneration effect, which explains why it is better at charging the batteries than at putting a smile on your face. At this point, the E-Tron is the only BEV which can recuperate via e-motor, hydraulic brakes, and a combination thereof. The transition from passive to active stopping power is smooth and seamless, but since this Audi is by nature more interested in saving energy than pushing braking points further forward, it takes a determined and heavy right foot to reel in the car to a total standstill.

In the heart of the Bitterwasser salt plains, we locked ESC in play mode, set all systems in dynamic and worked the car hard until the state-of-charge readout dropped to single digits. By the time we were done, we’d scattered the local wildlife to the horizons except for a pair of wheeling vultures watching like stone-age drones as the future unfolded below them.

2019 Audi E-Tron Specifications ON SALE Mid-2019 PRICE $75,795 MOTOR Dual AC induction motors, 188 hp/168 hp, 402 hp combined BATTERY Lithium-ion Polymer/95 kWh TRANSMISSION 1-speed reduction gear LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, two-motor, AWD crossover EPA MILEAGE N/A L x W x H 193.0 x 76.3 x 65.5 in WHEELBASE 115.3 WEIGHT N/A 0-60 MPH 5.5 sec (est) TOP SPEED 124 mph

IFTTT

[jonathanbelloblog]

First Drive: 2019 Audi E-Tron

To our left, a herd of impalas is fanning out into the setting sun. To the right, a solitary springbok stands frozen by a mix of curiosity and fright. In between, sand, salt, and stones stretch all the way to a horizon separated from the dark blue sky by a panoramic cloud of dust. The flat tableland at the bottom of Namibia’s Kalahari desert is ten times the size of a football field for giants—all that´s missing are the goals, the corner flags, and the faintest trace of grass.

For one day only, this flat, open expanse has been converted to a kind of freestyle rallycross stage for six 2019 Audi E-Trons coated in psychedelic swirls not unlike the rock paintings of ancient residents. Water is a precious commodity in this scorching hot basin, but thanks to a few rows of makeshift solar panels, freshly harvested electricity is not. It´s an eerie scene, spectacular yet unreal, a handful of Audis drifting almost noiselessly through no-man´s land, never changing gear or hitting a redline. Vorsprung durch CO2-neutral powerslide, so to speak.

When the dust finally settles, one can decipher cones, an unusually wide racing line, and a white tent next to what must be the start-finish line. We get five laps per driver through a nearly mile-long ribbon of corners fast and slow. The surface looks like a thin coating of toasted breadcrumbs, but it is as slippery as loose snow on frozen earth. Even with ESC on, the handling attitude changes with every blip of the throttle. Deactivate it, and your inner Sebastian Loeb will grin from ear to ear before switching to attack mode. Back in the pits, the crew routinely adjusts the tire pressures and checks the state of charge. While the miles-to-empty readout dropped a couple of digits during our fun, the battery never failed to deliver full power on demand.

Audi’s new E-Tron, aims squarely at the new Jaguar I-PACE, Mercedes EQ-C, Porsche Taycan Cross Turismo, and Tesla Model X. The silent newcomer, loosely based on the Q5 and Q7 crossovers, will be priced around $90,000. It fields two electric motors rated at up to 402 hp and 490 lb-ft, and a 95-kWh battery good for a driving range of around 250 miles.

“The E-Tron is not a one-hit wonder,” says Markus Siewert, one of several project engineers. “We can do repeat action better than anybody else. The E-Tron, for instance, accelerates ten times from nought to sixty without dropping a single tenth over the entire cycle. On the autobahn, you are invited to nail the pedal to the metal for twenty long minutes—and I promise you the top speed will not budge one bit over time. Eventually, power is progressively scaled back to prevent overheating. A similar measure is taken when the car struggles to reach the nearest charge point. But even in case the range meter drops to zero, we still have a buffer built into the system.” Although the numbers are not yet cast in stone, one source claims that the driving range of the E-Tron will be certified at 265 miles according to the WLTP norm, though how that might translate to an EPA rating for the U.S. is unclear. Even in winter, with cold motors and cold batteries, Audi says 200 miles of range is a realistic point-to-point average.

Inside, the E-Tron is more Q8 than A7. There are four displays vying for the driver´s attention. The main instrument cluster offers two different views; one prioritizes the map, the other zooms in on the two round instruments. A head-up display floats above the instruments, while the center console accommodates two touchscreens. The whole set-up looks familiar, and yet it is different in that you operate the transmission via a chrome tile which sticks out of what used to be the electronic gear selector. There´s R for reverse, D for drive, N for neutral and P for park. It’s a single-speed box, so that one and only ratio takes you all the way to 124 mph, where the limiter steps in. On paved surfaces, the electric Q can use its boost mode to accelerate to 60 mph in just 5.5 seconds. Take away that power boost and the stopwatch will read somewhere in the mid-six-second range. The car from Ingolstadt feels far from slow, but in this comparison the Audi loses a fair few ticks to the least powerful Tesla Model X, which also offers a 6-mph higher top speed

Late next year, insiders are expecting a performance version of the E-Tron rated at approximately 503 hp, but right now the maximum power output is 402 hp. Even this number is only available for ten seconds in boost mode. The next step down is called peak mode. It musters 355 hp and 414 lb-ft for up to 60 seconds. Under normal driving conditions, the E-Tron will use the rear motor primarily, which is good for 188 hp and 231 lb-ft of torque. If the driver requests more grunt, the second motor rated at 168 hp/182 lb-ft will jump in to drive the front wheels. All-wheel drive and torque vectoring are activated within milliseconds, providing top-notch traction and laser-beam stability. With ESC switched off, the rear-wheel bias invites you kick the tail out, which is a lot easier on an African salt lake than on high-grip European blacktop. Our test car was fitted with 21-inch energy saving tires, which destroyed the ride but offered plenty of cornering grip. Although the steering always tells the full story, it feels somewhat artificial throughout its range.

Powering the two induction motors is a 95-kWh high-voltage energy cell, weighing in at a whopping 1,543 lbs. The battery can be fast-charged with up to 150 kW at a network of service stations currently under construction. Audi has partnered with Electrify America to build 500 fast-charge stations in 40 states by 2019. While fast charging takes about 20 minutes, plug-in charging at home is an eight-hour affair. To speed up the process, Audi is offering a more powerful wall box and a second onboard charger. The killer app of the fast-charger? An 80-percent charge in just 30 minutes.

Inside, the E-Tron does not differ dramatically from the new Q8, A8, A7, and A6. The only obvious exceptions are the optional camera-based rear-view devices, which are lighter, narrower, and more aerodynamically slippery than conventional mirrors. They also take time to get used to, because your eyes must learn to focus on the displays in the top forward corner of the door panels. This works ok on the passenger side, but the driver finds the upright, non-adjustable screen much harder to read. On the credit side, the slim camera-equipped view finders will switch to a smaller image on the autobahn to emphasize the speed difference between fast and slow moving traffic, the system automatically extends the lateral view as soon as the indicator is set, and it dials in a bird´s eye perspective paired to a curbside zoom when parking. By tapping the intelligence of the cloud, the E-Tron driver is led to empty parking spaces, receives fog, black ice, and accident warnings, and is cautioned should a mobile speed trap pop up.

In typical Audi fashion, there are seven different choices of tune, from eco to dynamic. In addition, you are invited to dial in one of three overriding settings labeled comfortable, balanced, and sporty. The fourth option is individual, which allows you to preset stability control from steadfast to leery, dampers from quite firm to quite comfortable, steering effort from featherweight to heavyweight, and drivetrain from attentive to aggressive. The standard air suspension can be jacked up in two steps by 1.38 inches (35 mm) in allroad and by 1.97 in (50 mm) in off-road mode. Above 62mph, it automatically lowers the ride height by about 1 in (26 mm). The electronic e-quattro AWD system is significantly quicker to act and react than its combustion-powered counterpart. In fact, the energy flow to the four wheels is so rapid that the car responds to a puddle almost before it hits it. The battery pack, made up of 36 modules, is mounted between the axles as low as possible to push down the center of gravity. Measuring 193 inches in length and sitting on a 115.3-in wheelbase, the E-Tron is shorter than the Q8, narrower than the Q5 and lower than the Q7. Its cargo bay holds 28.5 cubic feet of gear (57 with the rear seats down), and yet the drag coefficient is a best in class 0.27.

The first all-electric Audi is an amazingly quiet zero-emission cruiser. Wind noise, road noise, and drivetrain noise are so well muffled that one instinctively reaches for the non-existing outside manual claxon to warn cyclists and pedestrians. The silence is in fact so overwhelming and persistent that half a decibel of extra kickdown whine would probably be quite welcome. After all, the E-Tron puts speed into perspective in a way that makes you wonder whether full throttle actually unleashes all the forward thrust there is. If our first encounter is anything to go by, the acceleration from 60mph upwards is overshadowed by the unreal mid-range urge of a Tesla 100D, the fierce low-speed pick-up of the 294-kW Jaguar i-Pace and the awesome tip-in of the 300-kW Mercedes EQ-C. The E-Tron is a quick car, no doubt. But it does not release that torque avalanche with quite the same urge and enthusiasm as its rivals.

Waftability is a key target for every electric car, and this also applies to the all-electric Audi, which comes prepared for level 3 autonomous driving as soon as it becomes legal. The vibration-free motors, the absence of virtual or actual gear changes, the punchy power delivery, and the hush-quiet noise level make this a perfectly relaxed and sufficiently brisk grand. The laid back dynamics are supported by a flat ride, nicely suppressed body movements, and enough instant oomph to pull away from trouble. Dislikes? Nose dive under hard deceleration, go-for-it take-off squat, a steering that is too light in comfort mode and too heavy in dynamic, and a set of brakes that deserves its own paragraph, together with the Audi energy regeneration strategy.

Intelligent recuperation helps to extend the driving range by up to 30 percent, says Audi. There are two different methods working hand in hand: lift-off regeneration and brake regeneration. In both cases, the e-motors act as generators and convert kinetic energy back into electric energy. By pulling the up- and downshift paddles behind the steering wheel, you may increase or decrease regeneration in two steps. Up to 0.3g of deceleration, you can either coast or make use of the regen, which is strong enough to create that coveted “one pedal” driving experience. Beyond 0.3g, the hydraulic 18-in disc brakes take over.

In regenerative braking stage 1, the car slows down at lift-off, but nine out of ten stopping maneuvers can still be executed without even touching the pedal. Stage 2 virtually doubles this regeneration effect, which explains why it is better at charging the batteries than at putting a smile on your face. At this point, the E-Tron is the only BEV which can recuperate via e-motor, hydraulic brakes, and a combination thereof. The transition from passive to active stopping power is smooth and seamless, but since this Audi is by nature more interested in saving energy than pushing braking points further forward, it takes a determined and heavy right foot to reel in the car to a total standstill.

In the heart of the Bitterwasser salt plains, we locked ESC in play mode, set all systems in dynamic and worked the car hard until the state-of-charge readout dropped to single digits. By the time we were done, we’d scattered the local wildlife to the horizons except for a pair of wheeling vultures watching like stone-age drones as the future unfolded below them.

2019 Audi E-Tron Specifications ON SALE Mid-2019 PRICE $75,795 MOTOR Dual AC induction motors, 188 hp/168 hp, 402 hp combined BATTERY Lithium-ion Polymer/95 kWh TRANSMISSION 1-speed reduction gear LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, two-motor, AWD crossover EPA MILEAGE N/A L x W x H 193.0 x 76.3 x 65.5 in WHEELBASE 115.3 WEIGHT N/A 0-60 MPH 5.5 sec (est) TOP SPEED 124 mph

IFTTT

[theconservativebrief]

Hundred of motorized electric scooters quietly descended upon San Francisco seemingly overnight in March.

And then one day in June, they were gone.

In the months before their rapture, the scooters puzzled, infatuated, and infuriated residents. Those who dared to try them discovered a whimsical and cheap way to get around. Non-riders saw a swarm of self-entitled locusts devouring precious inches of sidewalk and street, backed by companies that were the epitome of tech-bro arrogance.

The city got fed up, and ordered all scooters be removed until it could come up with a permitting process. And its rollout and rollback has become a microcosm of the promise and perils of the scooter stampede. Already, scooter companies operate in 65 cities and are vying for the top prize, New York City. Some city officials, however, are desperately trying to rein in and regulate scooters, which often appear without warning and without local input.

Without docks, scooters are cluttering sidewalks and blocking wheelchair ramps. Riders weaving through crowds or ignoring traffic rules have caused bruises and broken bones. In Santa Monica, California, it’s apparently hard to walk without tripping over a scooter:

The companies behind the scooters haven’t done themselves any favors either. Following in the tracks of aggressive ride-hailing services like Uber and Lyft, some scooter companies have adopted the notorious “ask forgiveness rather than permission” approach when setting up shop. As in San Francisco, officials in cities like St. Louis were surprised to see hundreds of scooters suddenly perched on curbs without any forewarning.

Other cities, like Seattle, are trying to keep them out until they can write rules of the road to manage them. And this being 2018, scooter companies have attempted to seed a social media backlash to the backlash.

Amid the feverish passion for and against scooters, there’s a larger reckoning taking place about rapid changes to our cities and public spaces. The scooters are forcing conversations about who is entitled to use sidewalks, streets, and curbs, and who should pay for their upkeep.

They’re also exposing transit deserts, showing who is and isn’t adequately served by the status quo, and even by newer options like bike share. That people have taken so readily to scooters shows just how much latent demand there is for a quick and cheap way to get around cities.

Electric scooters are also challenging the king of American transit, the car. Most car trips are short, and if electric scooters do end up replacing some of them, they could alleviate congestion and help the environment. But that’s a big “if.”

So whether scooters are already rolling into your city or an infestation is looming, you might be wondering how they work, how they get charged, whether they’re safe, and if they are, in fact, good. Here are some answers. Grab the handlebars and hop on.

The electric scooters we’re talking about here are pretty simple. Imagine an ordinary two-wheeled kick scooter, like a Razor. Now imagine that it has an electric motor. That’s pretty much it.

The key innovation with the latest batch of scooters is the rental business model: Download the app on your smartphone for a scooter company — Bird, Lime, Skip, or Spin — and use the map to find a nearby scooter. Enter a credit card and scan a barcode to unlock the scooter. Go for a ride. Park the scooter and end the ride on the app.

The design of the electric scooter itself has been around for years, but it was often marketed as a toy. You may also recall another grown-up, two-wheeled “personal transporter”:

21st Century Fox

Launched in 2002, the Segway rode a wave of hope and hype into the market, promising to revolutionize transportation. The device used gyroscopes to almost magically balance on two wheels, sipped electricity, steered intuitively with body movements, and whisked riders along silently at 12 miles per hour.

But it launched with a price of $4,950, making it more a luxury bauble than a commuting workhorse. It was too heavy to carry easily when the batteries ran low. It was too fast for sidewalks, too slow and vulnerable for roads. Riders towered awkwardly over pedestrians, standing stiffly with their feet together as they whirred along. It soon became associated with tech bros and elitism, and thereafter was a punchline.

Segways are still around, but the riders are tour groups, mall security, and parking enforcement. They never became cool. As Jordan Golson wrote at Wired, “the problems that sank the Segway weren’t technological. They were social.”

So it’s these problems of Segways, plus the cost, that scooter rental companies are trying to solve.

For one thing, the rental scooters insulate the rider from most of the cost of the device. At retail, they cost between $100 and $500. But you can start riding many electric scooters for $1 and then 15 cents a minute thereafter. A 2-mile ride takes about 10 minutes and costs less than $3. When you’re done, you don’t have to take it inside or even plug it in; just leave it in a public space where it doesn’t block traffic.

This business model has drastically lowered the barrier to entry for scooter riders, allowing scooter skeptics to cheaply satiate their curiosity, turning some into loyal riders. Though the hardware is more akin to a Segway, the software makes using an electric scooter just like using a dockless bike.

Most of the scooter companies are using rebadged versions of existing electric scooter models that are already for sale. But they want their own custom devices that can handle the rigors of rental. In May, Lime announced it was partnering with Segway to design its next-generation scooter. Bird also rents out Segway-designed scooters.

The proliferation of rental scooters also draws on advances in telecommunications. The scooters have GPS units and 4G data connections to track riders’ every move. And the riders all have smartphones that locate and unlock the scooters while automatically paying the fare.

Batteries are another key advance. Since the early 2000s, energy storage systems have become more powerful and less expensive. Vehicle battery prices have dropped 86 percent between 2010 and 2016. Electric scooters now travel 20 to 30 miles between charges. These batteries have also benefited other electric transportation devices like motorized skateboards and unicycles.

Investors right now are also hungry for transportation startups, which partly explains the scooter boom. From ride-hailing to self-driving cars to electric cars, billions of dollars are pouring into companies that move people around. But short trips between apartments and metro stops or leisurely rides across parks remained a vacuum until recently.

So dockless bikes and, later, electric scooters rushed in to fill the void, securing millions if not billions in financing while clawing for market share.

On the customer side, there is a cadre of riders primed to adopt electric scooters. The generation that grew up rolling around culs-de-sac on Razor scooters is now commuting in urban centers. Balancing on two wheels is already familiar to them, so an app-enabled scooter rental service that can get you to work without breaking a sweat is an appealing throwback and a flash-forward.

In sum, the combination of entrepreneurs, technology, funding, and a race to grab a toehold in major urban centers all converged earlier this year, leading to a sudden crop of scooters starting on the West Coast in March and rippling throughout the country.

Here in Washington, DC, where four scooter companies have launched, I’ve found that the scooter has many charms. A scooter can whisk me to work past stopped traffic at 15 miles per hour. It’s very convenient to park it just about anywhere.

Some scooter firms are already “unicorns” — privately held companies valued at more than $1 billion. Bird, based in Santa Monica, doubled its valuation to $2 billion in just four months. Lime, which also rents bikes, crossed the $1.1 billion valuation mark just 18 months after it launched. Skip Scooters is valued at $100 million.

Meanwhile, Uber and Lyft have been struck by FOMO and are themselves getting into the electric scooter game. In July, Lyft bought Motivate, the largest bike-sharing company in the United States, reportedly for $250 million, aiming to leverage the bike network to deploy scooters. Uber bought Jump Bikes, an electric bike rental service, for $200 million in April.

Could there be a crash on the horizon? We’re already seeing dockless bikes piling up in scrap yards as companies fold. In China, abandoned bike-share bikes now fill vast fields outside major cities. As scooter-share companies jostle for dominance, weaker players will inevitably fold or be acquired, but it’s too early to say whether the concept as a whole will have staying power.

Umair Irfan/Vox

Behind every scooter parked on a sidewalk, leaning on a kickstand, is a vast, invisible infrastructure network that keeps the scooters maintained, charged, and accessible.

Engineers track where the scooters are going. Support staff answer questions on the phone. Technicians whisk off damaged scooters to hidden warehouses for repair.

And as the sun sets and power meters run low, chargers for hire roam the streets, scavenging depleted scooters, plugging them in at home, and placing them back on sidewalks early the next morning. Bird scooters return to their “nest.” Lime scooters are charged by “juicers.”

“For many people, it’s a fun way to make extra money,” said Colin McMahon, who leads Lime’s juicer program.

The way it works: Potential juicers apply for the job with Lime. When approved, they get special access through the app that highlights scooters that need charging. Charging one nets a juicer between $9 and $12, depending on how low the battery is, so a juicer’s take is a function of how many scooters she picks up and how much power those scooters need. Charging the scooter requires about half a kilowatt-hour of electricity, about 5 cents’ worth of power on average.

McMahon said most juicers spend an hour or two in the evening walking or driving around making pickups and then redeploy the scooters in specific locations marked on the app. “We leverage our data to say where are the best spots for people to begin their day for commuting,” he said. He declined to share the number of juicers Lime has on its roster or the typical number of scooters charged per juicer.

Bird follows a similar model. A diverse array of people have signed up as Lime juicers and Bird hunters, but unlike driving for Uber or Lyft, there is no background check. Technically, you have to be over 18, but many high schoolers are getting into the charging game, as the Atlantic reported.

The sliding scale for charging scooters has also created some perverse incentives that ne’er-do-wells have already exploited, as Nathaniel Buckley wrote at Slate:

… it turns out the charging system is akin to a real-life Pokémon Go, albeit one rife with cheating. The app purports to tell you where nearby chargeable scooters are, but in reality that’s rarely the case. Duplicitous collectors have created a thriving ecosystem of stockpiling, hiding, and decoying that makes it well-nigh impossible to find a scooter in need of charging.

When picking up a scooter, chargers are supposed to “capture” it via a button on the app. Doing this deletes the flag so others don’t waste time scouting for that particular Bird. It also stops the clock on the reimbursement meter. The longer a scooter goes without being captured, the greater the commission Bird will pay its chargers.

According to Harry Campbell of the Rideshare Guy Blog, scooter bounty hunters can net $20 to $30 an hour. And since each scooter can only be claimed by one charger, it can get competitive, as Taylor Lorenz reported at the Atlantic:

In saturated markets, the race to quickly grab as many scooters as possible is fierce. “One time I pulled up to pick up a scooter, I got there maybe 10 seconds before the other guy did,” said one charger in San Diego. “He started yelling at me. He picked up a Bird scooter and started beating my car. I got the hell out of there.”

There are also repair crews who scoop up damaged or vandalized scooters, though scooter companies insist only a small fraction of their vehicles end up deliberately mangled.

“Speed has never killed anyone,” said former Top Gear presenter Jeremy Clarkson. “Suddenly becoming stationary, that’s what gets you.”

This holds for scooters. Traveling at up to 15 miles per hour doesn’t seem like much until you rapidly become acquainted with an unmoving object — say, a street sign, a wall, or the ground. Scooters don’t have crumple zones, air bags, or padding, so riders are exposed to everything around them.

There has been a rise in scooter-related injuries, but that’s largely a function of the spread of scooters themselves rather than any inherent danger in the vehicle. Still, given the vast abundance of these scooters, some physicians are concerned. Law firms are also readying themselves for litigation.

“We’re seeing these injuries daily, and at least once or twice a week we’re seeing someone who needs an urgent surgery,” Natasha Trentacosta, an orthopedic surgeon in Los Angeles studying electric scooter-related injuries, told the Cedars-Sinai Blog. “These can be life-changing injuries, and they can often be prevented.”

Right now there isn’t any good data on injury rates among scooter riders. Many of the bumps and scrapes that come from a scooter tumble are minor, and there is no good way to track them. Health officials in California are trying to change that with a standardized data collection system.

There are plenty of threats to scooter riders for researchers to track. The tiny wheels can get trapped by uneven sidewalks and grates, causing falls. Damp weather can easily weaken the tires’ grip. On busy sidewalks, riders have to maneuver around pedestrians, pets, and potholes. On the road, scooters can be hard for drivers to see, and heavy, fast-moving vehicles can be deadly.

There’s also a learning curve. Electric motors can accelerate surprisingly quickly, and the momentum a rider generates takes effort to slow down. Keeping a leg ready to brace for a sudden stop requires some practice.

However, many of the same precautions for cyclists can reduce risks on scooters: Be aware of your surroundings, make sure the equipment is in good order, follow traffic rules, take your earbuds out, put away your phone, and be judicious with your speed.

As for helmets, scooter companies encourage riders to wear them with reminders in their respective apps (it’s also required by law in some states), though almost no one does. Bird currently offers free helmets to active riders (just pay shipping) but is also lobbying to relax helmet laws in California.

In practical terms, though, many riders won’t be carrying a helmet around for scootering since it’s a transportation mode designed for whim and convenience.

And the biggest safety issues right now stem from inexperience. Given how new scooters are, there’s no consistent etiquette for riding an electric scooter, and so pedestrians, drivers, and cyclist can’t necessarily anticipate what a scooter will do in an intersection, which can lead to conflicts (read: collisions).

Some riders claim the sidewalk; others ride in the street. Some will follow pedestrian signals, some will obey traffic lights, and some will do none of the above. Scooters don’t have turn signals, so it’s hard to broadcast your intent as a rider. They do have bells, but they don’t help much to get the attention of car drivers.

Establishing a set of best practices (and actually following them) would go a long way toward smoothing out the tensions between different modes of transport and solving the safety issues around scooters. This would require regulation from cities and education from scooter companies.

And as with any vehicle, don’t ride a scooter under the influence; it’s dangerous and illegal.

Most city ordinances say (and scooter rental companies insist) that electric scooters shouldn’t be ridden on sidewalks. Motorized vehicles pose a nuisance, if not a hazard, to pedestrians.

So that pretty much leaves streets. And for the reasons mentioned above, it can be nerve-racking for riders as cars whizz by. Which means scooters often remain on sidewalks, against the terms of service and, in many cases, the law.

The best and likely safest place for a scooter is a bike lane since there are no pedestrians and because the lanes can accommodate faster traffic (as a daily bike commuter, scooters aren’t any more annoying than slower cyclists).

However, most streets don’t have bike lanes, and unless the bike lane is protected or separated from car traffic, scooter riders will still have to contend with cars weaving in and out. Bike lanes also don’t reach most destinations, which means a scooter ride will almost always require riding on the sidewalk or in open traffic at some point.

The answer is an unsatisfactory “it depends.”

Like electric cars, scooters are only as green as the electricity that charges them. If your city gets most of its power from a coal or natural gas-fired power plant, that means your scoot around the neighborhood has a positive carbon footprint.

But the other piece of the environmental equation is what the scooter ride is displacing, or if it leads to trips that otherwise wouldn’t be taken.

For example, Estonia launched the largest free public transit system in the world in July. In the capital, Tallinn, researchers found that the scheme didn’t reduce car travel but did decrease walking.

If you’re scooting instead of walking, then the ride has a higher environmental cost. But if you’re replacing a car ride, then it has an environmental benefit since an electric scooter uses a tiny fraction of the energy consumed by a car.

Right now, scooters are doing both.

“Some of those walk trips are likely to be taken away at the shorter end, and some of those car trips are those at the long end,” said Brian Taylor, a professor of urban planning at the University of California Los Angeles who studies how transportation serves different population sets.

How does the environmental impact of scooters stack up next to public transit? Well, it depends. The balance changes depending on how far you’re going and the form of transit it’s replacing, whether it’s a diesel bus or an electric train.

On the other hand, a scooter can also encourage the use of public transportation. Most scooter trips are 1 to 2 miles long, and the companies themselves pitch scooters as filling the “last mile” in transit, expanding the reach of a transit station or a bus stop.

“There’s the West LA rail station that’s a 22-minute walk from me,” Taylor said. “I took a scooter the other day and it took me five minutes.”

If a scooter can help avoid commuting by car altogether, then the net environmental benefits can be huge. And even added all together, the energy use of scooters is trivial compared to the ongoing energy use in cars, buses, trains.

Keep in mind that the vast majority of trips people take on a regular basis are short. According to the US Department of Energy, almost 60 percent of vehicle trips in 2017 were less than 6 miles:

Javier Zarracina

Cars in particular comprise a huge chunk of these short trips. “Today, 40 percent of car trips are less than two miles long,” said Bird CEO Travis VanderZanden in a statement in March. “Our goal is to replace as many of those trips as possible so we can to get cars off the road and curb traffic and greenhouse gas emissions.”

According to the Environmental Protection Agency, if drivers decided to walk or bike instead of drive for half of all car trips shorter than a mile, drivers would avert 2 million metric tons of carbon dioxide emissions a year and save $900 million annually.

Scooter rides are typically less than 2 miles, which is often too short a distance for hailing a ride if you don’t already own a car. This is part of why ride-hailing services like Uber and Lyft are so keen on electric scooters: They fill a need their current services can’t.

So scooter rides are going to displace car trips to an extent, which may reduce the number of cars on the road.

However, urban journeys are becoming increasingly multimodal, and scooters may add one more flexible link to the transit chain rather than replacing another mode completely. Their most valuable traits are how flexible they are compared to public transit, which runs fixed routes, and how cheap they are compared to cars. That means scooters fulfill a unique niche of the transportation ecosystem.

And if more scooters are riding in the streets, that could slow down traffic and increase congestion.

In a word, yes. A qualified yes.

Despite the consternation about how they’ve been rolled out, public opinion is on their side. According to a survey by Populus of 7,000 people across major US cities, 70 percent of respondents on average had a positive view of scooters, though perceptions varied by city:

The differences in attitude across cities in part come from the fact that scooter companies and their riders haven’t always been the best citizens. Many cities were eager to deploy docked bike-share bikes because it gave them control over where the bikes end up. But dockless bikes, and now scooters, have made it much more difficult to wrangle wheels.

Scooters and bikes blocked sidewalks, wheelchair ramps, and green spaces. For some of the launch cities, they quickly became a nuisance. For people with disabilities or limited mobility, the scooters became a hazard. For this reason, some urban planners say scooters must be regulated.

But cities that saw a more gradual rollout have had a much smoother ride.

“In San Francisco, you saw a lot of backlash,” said Sanjay Dastoor, CEO of Skip, of the sudden, unannounced scooter deployment in the city. “We didn’t see DC in the news with a scooter armageddon. The backlash depends on the way you do it.”

You know who does NOT have an issue with rental bikes and electric scooters? The Dallas Police Department.

Because almost no reported injuries. And VERY few crimes.

At worst, people scooting and cycling on sidewalks. But they’re not being ticketed.https://t.co/u38nLYFDyb pic.twitter.com/dTsxvkPKde

— Robert Wilonsky (@RobertWilonsky) August 13, 2018

Dastoor noted that Skip is proactively working with cities before deploying in a market and has never been issued a cease-and-desist order. The company is also trying to encourage riders to be more considerate through its app, informing them of the rules before they ride.

However, he acknowledged it’s still a challenge to keep miscreants in check. “In terms of enforcing behavior, that’s tough to do,” he said.

Companies are also working to ensure their devices stay out of the way. Lime now asks riders for a photo to verify that the scooter is parked in an appropriate spot at the end of a ride.

The upshot of all this hassle is that scooters are bringing cheap transportation to people who may otherwise not have used it. They effectively expand the range of neighborhoods, allowing residents to easily travel further and increasing the reach of businesses. Researchers have found that mobility is a critical rung in the ladder out of poverty.

That may explain why electric scooters have a better reputation with people of lower incomes:

Javier Zarracina/Vox

Bird has already proposed offering discounts for people who live in public housing or receive food stamps. Lime introduced a donation module to its app that will allow riders to dedicate part of their fare to a local nonprofit.

Cities are starting to pick up on this. In talking with city officials, Dastoor said one of the concerns that keep cropping up is equality: Cities want to make sure scooters serve all neighborhoods and that people have equal access to them.

Scooters could also work as a stopgap solution for transit deserts, but there are still people who can’t take advantage of them, like residents who can’t afford a smartphone to unlock one. For them, the benefit of scooters may just be that they expose gaps in transportation infrastructure.

But while cities argue over what to do about electric scooters, there’s another dockless vehicle taking up public spaces that often gets left out of the discussion:

Los Angeles is the most traffic-clogged city in the world. Motorists in LA spent an average of 104 hours in traffic in 2016, which amounted to an estimated $2,408 per driver in wasted fuel and productivity. Justin Sullivan/Getty Images

It’s hard to overstate just how much cars have shaped cities, suburbs, and the country as a whole, becoming the water we all swim in. While cities are working to limit the number of scooters permitted, few have even thought about capping the number of cars. You even need a driver’s license to ride a scooter. As Populus observed in its report:

Based on the most recent public data, San Francisco, a relatively small city with one of the lowest vehicle ownership rates in the country, has approximately 500,000 registered vehicles. The city has approximately 442,000 publicly-available parking spots, including 275,000 on-street parking spaces. In comparison, various e-scooter regulations across the country that have adopted fleet restrictions have set caps on the number of e-scooters at 150 (on the low end) to 3,000 per company (on the high end, or no cap at all).

Though not everyone owns a car, everyone pays for one. There are roughly eight parking spots for every car in the United States, and free parking amounts to a subsidy to car owners of more than $100 billion a year.

That’s all before you include the impacts of driving, where the car actually moves. Roadways, law enforcement, pollution, and lost lives all add up to a huge social cost from driving, one that completely dwarfs anything electric scooters can muster.

And when a scooter company falls, it isn’t going to get a bailout from Congress.

That means there’s a strong case for demanding concessions from car infrastructure to facilitate walking, biking, and scooter riding — transit options that are more equitable and easier to access. That is, narrower roads in favor of larger bike lanes and sidewalks, also called a road diet. But scooter companies need to have city officials on their side if they want to continue doing business. Even notorious scofflaws like Lyft and Uber are wising up, submitting proposals to cities like Santa Monica before launching their own scooter businesses there.

Perhaps one of the greatest benefits of scooters will be that they will force a larger discussion of whom or what we prioritize when we design cities. “I’m hoping that all of this disruption will help us think more systematically about these things,” said UCLA’s Taylor.

The Big Apple is eager to have this conversation. City officials are already crafting legislation to help target scooters to areas suffering from transit congestion, like the L train corridor. Earlier this month, the New York Times editorial board endorsed the prospect of electric scooters roaming the streets. “If the city is serious about wanting safe, reliable ways for people in all areas of New York to get around, the path ahead is clear,” they wrote.

Original Source -> Electric scooters’ sudden invasion of American cities, explained

via The Conservative Brief

[apkilby]

  Goodwood

Whether you like cars or not theres something very notable about the Goodwood Festival of Speed. It has the reminiscent values of the British “Jolly Good Time” about it and is a celebration of what can be accomplished when fine craftsmanship meets engineering.

Over the course of a few days there is a huge gathering of people to a beautiful estate in the south of England. This wonderful setting is only a stones throw from coast with the likes of Brighton, Portsmouth and Southampton near by. The picturesque grounds and house become filled with amazing marvels of technological wonders. From the vintage to the most modern. Vehicles of all shapes, sizes and years compete for the ultimate accolade… The Hill Time.

As the name suggests this is a festival celebrating the essence of speed and racing; with cars from all eras coming together in one place. This family fun event is not only every “petrol heads” must, but is a defining event of the esteemed British Social calendar. People from all walks of life, and from all around the world descend here every July.

That being said, this was my very first time attending.

I had the amazing honour of being invited to this magnificent soirée by Montblanc (the official time keeper and partner to the festival), to be one of their guests on Sunday the 15th of July. 

Although  I had been made aware of the possibility to attend the event, it wasn’t until a  couriered delivery, that the reality of where I was going hit home.

5am the morning of Goodwood, getting up at this time wasn’t out of the ordinary for me, my pack of five hurricanes are usually up at this time, if not before, waiting for their breakfast. The difference about this morning was that the hurricanes were at home, no doubt tormenting their sitter, whilst I was getting ready for an hour long drive to the Goodwood Estate. 

 Although my hotel room was nothing special it did come will all the amenities you’d expect, so after getting a shower I got dressed and sorted ready for checking out.  

There wasn’t a strict dress code for the day, although I guess you could say it was expected that you attend smart casual; so my usual low key shorts and T-shirt wouldn’t have been very appropriate. On this note I wore a simple white Oxford Shirt and Grey Trousers. 

After gathering myself and packing up,  it was time to hit the road. Goodwood was about an hours car journey away and with any event like this you know theres going to some build up of traffic as the event begins to open.

I find its always a little better to arrive a tiny but early, at least this way you wont be sat in traffic even if your sat at the gates to the event.

I had been quite fortunate in the fact that parking and entrance had been arranged for me (all included in my wonderful invite) 

I arrived at Goodwood about 06:30 the journey was pleasantly uneventful and was quite a scenic route. The directions for the event were very clearly marked several miles form the actual estate and finding my specific entrance and parking zone was as simple as following a few yellow signs. 

I was surprised to see that the stewards were already and wait for  guest and attendees, giving them clear and coordinated instructions on where to actually park.

For once you could say the perks of being in a wheelchair was that I was able to be parked quite close to the shuttle bay to ferry me across to the gates of the event.

Obviously the grand scale of this event and festival are made clear when you have to take a few minute shuttle journey to the main gate. 

My personal shuttle from the car park to the gate was a beautiful brand  new (all be it a little dusty) Landrover Discovery Sport. The actual ride form the car park to the gate was very pleasant, the driver was especially welcoming and for that time in the morning was very perky and talkative. 

When we arrived at the gate the event wasn’t quite open, there was a little wait before anyone (other than staff) could proceed through the gate. During this time, the shuttle driver was even more helpful in acquiring my extra “swing” pass. Something I needed for me to be able  to access certain areas due to being in the chair. It would also allow me access to selected area accessible with my chair that wouldn’t normally be accessible (walk though and passages). 

Waiting around at the gate everyone was is good spirits and very welcoming, I had the pleasure of talking to a relative local who was part of the Land Speed Team. A group of people who were at the festival to demonstrate an new Land Speed vehicle (hoping from what I recall to reach a speed of around 1000 MPH in a desert in Africa). 

I have to admit I would have normally been a little more tentative in my acknowledgment (and listening), however there was already quite the rumble around (as cars, and Staff were entering the event). 

All of a sudden there was a rush to the gate, being sat to one side (a little a head of the main queue) it was fairly easy for me to have my tag/pass scanned and head on in. 

I have to admit I was quite the fool and didn’t realise about the gravel track around the main entrance. Thinking about it now it would have been a good idea to take my “GoFreeWheel”

After the initial gravel there was the relief of metal causeway’s zigzagging around the whole event. This made wheeling around a little easier. Getting around wasn’t especially hard because of the metal causeways, however in my complete ignorance of the the event and its main attraction (The Hill Climb) I really wasn’t prepared for actually how hilly it was.

Normally this wouldn’t be a major issue or impediment, however by now it was 7am and the Sun was already beating down upon me at what I can only describe as desert heat. It was dry and there wasn’t a cloud on the sky to be seen, this now comes back to the Shorts and Tee… Geesh it was already becoming warm, even at this time in the morning, who knows how warm it would feel like at the suns pinocle. 

As I digress about the heat and how warm I was becoming. It was a smart move to have a quick look around before making any concrete plans. I had an itinerary from around 12 o’clock onwards, however this  time in the morning was going to about exploring the venue and event.

It was about now I began to realise my other stupidity; I had forgotten to bring a hat. My Panama was sat no doubt in plain sight at home with the hurricanes, and as the sun was already beating down, I knew it wouldn’t be long before my head turn a nice shiny red colour. Luckily there were around and about many different stalls, selling wears. Although not incredibly stylish (and only a few pounds) I did mange to purchase a hat that would protect my head from the sun.

After wandering round for half an hour or so, more and more people began to arrive and the whole place started to fill with an exciting buzz. Before getting too distracted it was time to grab a breakfast on the go. There were many venders that sold a wide and varied selection of foods, many selling multiple menus throughout the day (obviously starting with breakfast). However you can forget morning rituals here, after all this was be all and end all a race day event, there was no Starbucks on every corner, although there were many that sold coffee (for those who wanted it); but this was literally food to go. There were a few benches to sit and quickly devour your breakfast wrap or whatnot, and I was lucky enough to find a quiet spot to enjoy a simple cup of tea. It was however quite the surprise to myself to see that before all other beverages were being distributed (tea, Coffee, soft drinks) the taps were already a flow with beer. 

I found it quite amusing that whilst I was sat next to a table enjoying breakfast tea, on the table opposite was a group of young men enjoying their (first of many I’m sure) beer / larger of the day. You might ask what the surprise was, well it was only 8am in the morning at this point.  

(Predictable as always technology fails me, and this was the only post I managed on instagram the whole day / event)

Taken a 8:30am, I found the front of Goodwood House and the Gateway structure of the Festival. Although these pictures can not do it justice, I can say that this beautiful star was gigantic, I am a little unsure if these were actual cars or replicas, however they were full size. 

This monument to weekend was both stunning but another testament to engineering. A theme that carries on through the vibe of Goodwood Festival of Speed, most assume that the festival just celebrates how fast you can go or what time you can reach, but theres also a huge celebration of the engineering behind those vehicles, and its not just about the new (although the Future Lab was inspiring) it was about those that had come before, and laid down the foundation  of what we know today. 

It was brilliant to see all the categories of cars together in this marvellous celebration; and best of all the day had only just begun.

As the morning went on and several batches of vehicles had made their way around the track, I watched in awe as the event came to life.

As the viewing platforms filled, I thought it was time for another little adventure before heading to the Hill Pavilion to meet up with the amazing people and company that had be so gracious to invite me.

Heading towards the Stable Yard where I knew there was a little pop up  boutique for my wonderful host “Montblanc”, I came across the vintage car selection. Although everyone gets enthusiastic about the actual relays, my fascination for anything really automotive that would fall under the  category  of classic or vintage. Now I’m far from a “Petrol Head”   

(in fact I’m not even allowed to drive) but there is something quite remarkable about these prestigious engineering marvels. I guess my relationship to these kinds of vehicles stems from the classic movies I’ve watched so many times. But to see them in the flesh was completely inspired. It is truly amazing how far our knowledge and technology has come (although I still have my anguish with technology). 

After moseying around the vintage cars and having a look (although not really being able to get close to) the BMW stand in the Stable Yard I made it to the Montblanc Boutique adjoining BMW. 

Now this is where I come in to my element, I can honestly say without any doubt that I am one hundred percent obsessed with all things Montblanc. (I’m also pretty sure I drive the Montblanc UK team to distraction with this obsession). Although again (I apologise profusely) no pictures due to the technical hiccup of my camera, the Montblanc Pop up was truly incredible for me, not only did I get to see the BMW collection (which I should point out is exclusively only available at selected BMW Showrooms), but I also got my hands on the new Limited Edition Goodwood Edition TimeWalker Time Pieces 

   (Images Taken from www.montblanc.com UK webpage) 

These two beautifully stunning time pieces, are exquisite. The craftsmanship and design is just impeccable, they’re brilliantly balanced to sit comfortably on your wrist, day or night for all occasions. Their unique personality shines through with a heritage steeped in precise time keeping and racing history. (although these images are high resolution, they do not do justice to actually seeing them in person). I am honestly no connoisseur of watches and my horology is somewhat lacking, I have come to realise and appreciate Montblanc and the amazing time pieces they create. The UK team have opened my eyes to a world that was completely unfamiliar to me. Showing me another expressive outlet not only in creativity but also style and sophistication. The detail and work that goes in to these incredible time pieces is completely unfathomable. I was (and am) honoured to have been able to see, hold and enjoy these beautiful Limited Edition Time Pieces. Also note that @thisistimothy and @tomhardy wore these time pieces with much more grace, elegance and suave than I could ever describe (images available on instagram).

I’m digressing slightly about Goodwood talking (writing) about magnificent new time pieces, however theres a real connection to both them and the Festival of Speed, as not only was the launch held at the festival but also (for those who really didn’t know) Montblanc is the official Time Keeper and Partner of Goodwood Festival of Speed.

By now I had given up all hope of continuing to use my camera, it clearly wasn’t liking me very much and had given up the go and not taking any more pictures, not to mention losing all the one I had taken.

It was a little frustrating knowing I had (have) taken a lot of pictures throughout the event only to be let down by technology and unable to show what an amazing and wondrous time it was, and all the amazing spectacles I saw and witnessed.

Leaving the Montblanc Pop-up Boutique the outside temperature was soaring, and I’m sure it was in the high 20’s and could have even possibly been hitting the 30’s. What ever the temperature was it certainly was extremely hot. There was no real reprieve from the heat of the midday sun, and as mentioned my attire was not one I was accustom to. Luckily the morning was drawing to a close and it was time to head over to the Hill pavilion, where the Montblanc Team and hosts had set up a heavenly air conditioned event space.

Before I could get the Hill Pavilion and passing through a sea of people, it was announced over the immense speaker system that the whole event was to be given the amazing opportunity to see the RAF Red Arrows in action. Whenever theres British gathering or social event one of the most anticipated appearances is that of the RAF Red  Arrows. Their flawless displays brings feelings of joy and inspiration, not to mention a subject of pride, not just amongst those who witness their arial acrobats but to a whole nation. This year was exceptionally special to see the RAF Red Arrows in action as it is the 100th Anniversary year of the founding of the Royal Air Force.

Their display did not disappoint as the flew through the air trailing there plumes of red, white and blue.

  Arriving at the event space I was greeted by some familiar faces, as always their welcome was exceptional and warm (no pun intended). They honestly not only made me feel like a VIP but also part of the family. 

After meeting and greeting  a lot of familiar names and I’m sure chewing the ears off many who had more important things to be doing, I scoured a place (hopefully out of the way) to which I could sit, enjoy the air conditioning and a glass of ice cold water; there was the option of Champaign, however not being a one for the fizz, I enjoying the refreshing relief of the chilled still water. I’m not really one for social gatherings in fact I try my best to usually avoid them, I always feel a little out of place and uncomfortable, not to mention I don’t like the fact I feel like I’m being a bit of a burden (especially as special arrangements usually have to be made because of the chair). This was however the second engagement I’ve attend curtesy of Montblanc UK (the first being a launch event in London for one of their amazing Writing Instruments) and I have to say I have never been made to feel so welcome and apart of something special. These amazing people took time to engage with me and spend their immensely busy time with me. I felt on top of the world and despite there being far more important people to the brand at the event, they made me feel like I was the most important person to them.   There were a few missed opportunities on my part to meet some of the more international members of Montblanc, but I hope this can be rectified in the future, possibly at other Montblanc events.

As we took our places for a beautiful and delicate lunch I was honoured to have a couple of the Montblanc team sat with me at our table. There were also some very interesting and notable other guests sat around our dining table too. 

The lunch was a marvellously laid out buffet, with beautiful fresh foods ( and some delicious vegetarian delights too), the service staff attended to all our needs filling glasses and of course bringing around anything you needed. I have to be a little cheeky here and say despite the lovely lunch, my sweet tooth got the better of me, and I couldn’t wait too see the sweet treats being brought out ready for the devouring. 

The fresh hand buffet, gave way to a heavenly (very deliciously sickly) chocolate tart, and a beautifully light and delicate (I presume) Eton Mess. Of course I couldn’t resist trying both, and as I started the pleasurable task of tasting these deserts, that was when the serving staff brought forward the only thing that could accompany such tasty deserts… Ice Cream.

Yes I completely indulged in it all, topping my delectable chocolate tart with a dollop of ice cream and then filling the Mess Glass with another dollop of the cold goodness.

I could honestly say at this point I could have gone to heaven quite happy in myself. After the relentless heat barring down on the festival, going in to an air conditioned room filled with the most wondrous and friendly people, to eating gorgeous food, all of course whilst talking, laughing and watching the rally’s, what more could could you really want. 

During all this it wasn’t hard to miss the beautifully placed glass cabinets filled and exhibiting the most desirable time pieces from the across the Montblanc collection, again it was a true privilege to be able to see and hold these magnificent items.

After talking away lunch and watching some more of the festival there was short kind of recess, the room emptied with only a few of us remaining, watching the screens and cheering on the drivers, it was a brilliant time for reflection, and of course some amazing and wonderful (intellectual) conversation. It was a delight to spend some time with interesting and exceptional people, I felt honoured and lucky they would spend their precious and valuable time with me. About an hour passed before the room began to fill again. This time it was for the British tradition of Afternoon Tea. Obviously Goodwood being a quintessentially British social event, this was of course a must; and true to form there was every classic of the afternoon tea presented on a tiered platter. Again the selection of cakes and sweet treats was delicious, the sandwiches were tasty too, but what can I say I soft spot cakes and a very big sweet tooth.

Time unfortunately was passing very quickly and before realising day had gone. It was time to say my farewells as it was going to be a tremendous journey back to Sheffield from Goodwood (about 3.5 to 4 hours depending). I hope this was every bit a success for Montblanc as I felt it was for me, I had the most joyous time. It was a true privilege to have been able to spend so much time in such amazing company.

Being a little cheeky here but I hope I have the honour and privilege of attending this event again with Montblanc. 

I would like to to take this time to thank every one involved, and for the gracious invite. Thank you all for your time, patience and understanding. It was an honour to be invited and attend such an amazing event amongst such magnificent people. Thank you to all those whole took time to talk and engage with me, I know your time is very precious and your all very busy. I know I’m not and wasn’t the most important and influential person in attendance, but thank you for making me feel like I was. Thank you for letting me be involved and for showcasing your exquisite Time Pieces. What a wonderfully marvellous day it was.

Festival of Speed Goodwood Whether you like cars or not theres something very notable about the Goodwood Festival of Speed.

[jesusvasser]

Crossing (Part of) the Mojave Desert at 76 MPH in the Polaris RZR Dynamix

LAS VEGAS, Nevada — According to Einstein, speed and time are relative. Take, for instance, what it feels like to travel over the smooth black asphalt of Interstate 15 in a 2018 Chevrolet Tahoe Custom while towing a trailer carrying a pair of Polaris RZR Dynamix side-by-sides. The sensation is like that of the average commute—stale, boring, and seemingly endless. But pull one of those new RZRs from the trailer and gun it through the alien-looking environ of the Mojave Desert, and time evaporates.

On the face of it, Chevrolet invited us here to meet the aforementioned 2018 Tahoe Custom, a new $44,995 base-model version of the popular SUV designed for the active lifestyle millennials every automaker chases for sales. Although our time behind the Tahoe’s wheel was short and consisted of a single drive from our hotel on the Las Vegas strip to the middle of the Mojave, the new base Tahoe is no less refined than its better-equipped siblings and makes a hugely compelling case for itself.

However, the real reason I drove four hours through 107-degree desert temperatures while hopped up on Vietnamese coffee was to get behind the wheel of one of those Polaris side-by-sides. This wasn’t my first time in one, as I drove its predecessor, the RZR XP Turbo EPS, as well as the rival Can-Am Maverick, out in the sand dunes of Glamis, California, back in 2016. I left that experience hugely impressed by the off-road machines and couldn’t see how the side-by-side formula of plentiful horsepower, copious suspension travel, and brick house-solid construction could be any more capable. Polaris, at least, found a way.

Like the XP Turbo EPS, the RZR Dynamix is powered by a turbocharged, 925cc four-stroke DOHC twin-cylinder engine pumping out 168 horsepower, and it features selectable four-wheel-drive and is capable of exceeding 80 mph. But the RZR Dynamix feels less like a generational leap forward and more like a real leap into the future thanks to its new Dynamix adaptive suspension. While select road-going automobiles have been offered with electronic adaptive suspension setups for quite some time, this is the first application in the world of off-road side-by-sides.

Co-developed by Polaris and Fox Racing, a titan among the off-road racing community that also partnered with Ford for the F-150 Raptor, the RZR Dynamix uses Fox’s 2.5 Podium Live Valve with Bottom Control electronic shocks, which check driver inputs hundreds of times per second, as well as the state of the wheel, to change suspension settings to best suit the terrain.

This new setup—which has three different drive modes including Comfort, Sport, and Firm—gives the RZR Dynamix 16-inches of suspension travel at the front and 18-inches at the rear. It soaks up every bump, boulder, rocky rut, jump, and hard-pack dirt fissure rampant in the Mojave with ease, as I found out on the tortuous 30-mile trail that led us through a host of the desert’s most dynamic terrains. This included sections of almost talc-like sand that caked our jeans and lungs, boulders and granite ledges where slow and steady was still too fast, and rock- and crevasse-laden high-speed rally stages just across from where the Mint 400 rally takes place.

Although the initial briefing by Polaris was informative and thorough, nothing could prepare me for what the RZR Dynamix was capable of. The quickness of the throttle and the stability of the electronically controlled suspension gave me extra confidence as our convoy made its way through the BLM-controlled Mojave’s first obstacle: fine, talc-like sands.

In a line of seven RZR Dynamix side-by-sides, one issue immediately arose—the virtual sandstorm kicked up by the RZRs ahead. Getting close to anyone meant visibility dropped to almost zero; on unfamiliar terrain that has a habit of falling away, turning, or plopping large boulders in your path, it becomes unsafe. Speed had to be kept down and following distance had to be maintained.

Past the sand, we entered a more rocky area, our column lumbering from rock to ledge to boulder, moving slowly and steadily forward until the path flattened. Though far from racetrack smooth, it was far more level than the previously Grand Canyon-esque route. More importantly, it allowed me to finally open up the tap on the RZR Dynamix.

The first time I buried the accelerator, I hooted and hollered. My adrenaline surged, my eyes widened, and a buzzy feeling swept over my body. The turbocharged engine spooled quickly, rapidly sending me speeding—nay, skipping—across some of the most brutally raw rocky paths. As the Polaris side-by-side hit what felt like comical speeds, the suspension ironed out the soil underneath its knobby off-road tires.

As we barreled across the desert alongside towering power lines, every second was devoted to keeping my foot to the floor and the two-seater rubber side down. There’s nothing quite like traveling at a sustained 76 mph over terrain that most wouldn’t consider even walking through—and here, 76 feels more like a blitz towards 240 mph in a Bugatti Veyron at Ehra-Lessien than a commute down the 105. Everything passes the open windows so quickly, your brain never really gets the chance to process the path in front of you. Everything becomes instinctual. And yet, control over the RZR Dynamix never left my fingertips. The only word that accurately describes the experience, at least in polite company, is “exhilarating.”

Having driven other rally-spec vehicles before, I expected the buggy to wobble, sway, buck, and threaten to roll over while travelling over rough and uneven terrain at preposterous speeds. But Polaris and Fox did such an amazing job of tuning the RZR Dynamix’s adaptive suspension that it instills the supreme level of confidence needed to push beyond your limits and toward its boundaries. In fact, at the end of the day, I went up to the man from Polaris and asked if it would be possible to enter an RZR Dynamix in the upcoming 400-mile Mint 400 off-road endurance rally.

Later, we later swapped into a standard RZR without the Dynamix suspension. As expected, it wasn’t nearly as good at dealing with the rancorous path. I quickly climbed back into the RZR Dynamix and pointed the nose back toward base camp, laying into the turbocharged engine once again.

Back at camp, covered in dirt and sweat, it struck me as honestly amazing that this buggy exists as it is. Between its  knife-sharp throttle, 1970s Cadillac-soft suspension, mountain goat-like levels of off-road ability, and a cost of just $25,999, the Polaris RZR Dynamix is a major off-road deal. At the end of the day, after hours of baking in the 107-degree desert sun, with gravel in my hair and the sand’s grit in my teeth, I didn’t want to escape the Polaris’ clutches, and neither will you.

[sherlocked-avenger]

Road tripping with the 2017 Toyota Tundra TRD Pro

  Following the muddy launch of the TRD Pro models of Toyota’s Tundra and Tacoma, we headed to the Northern reaches of the Ottawa Valley for a week of work with a sweet Cement Grey Taco, with the DCS Appliances event trailer in tow.  That combined rig stirred up attention everywhere we went, so when a similar trip came onto the horizon recently, it only made sense to see how the big brother Tundra would fare.

Last Fall, we put the Tundra TRD-Pro through its paces in the dirt in Ontario ski country.

The event would see us head from Whitby to Mont Tremblant, a ski town in rural Quebec which also is the home of Le Circuit Mont Tremblant, where we would spend a the better part of the week feeding our friends from Driveteq, who would be spending a couple of days lapping the historic race track.

Once again, we would be grilling on the trailer mounted DCS grill, but we would also be roasting a pig in our La Caja China roaster, which meant we needed a capable hauler with lots of space. We knew the Tundra is big and that the TRD Pro version is tough off road, but would it do the tasks we were presenting it with? We also knew that the Tundra can be a tad on the thirsty side so we were curious to know how it performed when fully loaded.

The traditional domestics have worked hard to surpass the traditional import truck makers when it comes to interior feel and some of them (specifically Ram’s attention to detail) have risen above the rest, including the Tundra. While the interior of the Tundra is both sporty and tough looking, our thoughts were more to the comfort side of things for a long week of driving. How would the seats fare under the weight of my 3XL sized frame and how would my back feel at the end?

Off road packages offered by some manufacturers tend to be of the mild, stickers and fluff variety while others go to the extreme in offering full desert racing spec for those wannabe Baja racers. The TRD-Pro version of the built-in-Texas Tundra falls somewhere to the right of that pendulum arc, offering subtle design cues along with carefully chosen performance upgrades. Beyond the visual branding cues, the most immediately noticeable is the addition of a high flowing performance exhaust, which gives the 381 horsepower 5.7L V8 some serious bark to go with its bite.

When knowledgeable off road enthusiasts start a new build, one of the first changes they often make is to install Bilstein dampers on all four corners, as much for their ability to smooth out a vehicle’s on road presence as for their excellence in the rough stuff. It is heartening that Toyota’s engineering team chose to go the same route when outfitting the TRD-Pro Tundra, as the highway ride is firm yet delightfully smooth for such a big truck.

Naturally, our trip began with the obligatory McMuffin stop!

  Week long road trip to feed people must start with breakfast @sandy_grant @driveteq.ca @toyotacanada @dcsappliances #roadtrip #eventlife #bbqlife #barbeque #

A post shared by Gary Grant (@thegarageguy) on May 29, 2017 at 7:50am PDT

  Our route would take us from Durham region, east of Toronto, through cottage country and skirting the nation’s capital before crossing over into Quebec and heading to ski country. For years, when heading to Ottawa, we would travel the route along Highway 401 like most drivers, until we learned that the trip following the two lane Highway 7 is just as quick. The driving is much more laid back, with great views and lots of little towns to explore and grab a coffee along the way.

  Ceement grey #trdpro Tundra and a caboose! @toyotacanada @dcsappliances @driveteq.ca #havelock #roadtrip #roadlesstraveled #ontario #discoveron @sandy_grant #bbqlife #eventlife

A post shared by Gary Grant (@thegarageguy) on May 29, 2017 at 8:50am PDT

We know the route well now, so our exploration began after our usual visit to Costco in Gatineau to pick up beer for the week. For Ontario residents visiting the Ottawa area, it is worth mentioning that beer in Quebec is seriously cheap. At Costco, which is less than 10 minutes from Parliament Hill, a 24 bottle case of Stella Artois is $46.95 plus deposit at The Beer Store. The same package at Costco is just $27.95 plus deposit.

Having allowed ourselves an extra day before we had to feed the masses, we decided to take a fairly direct route to Mont Tremblant, so we could make the most of our time away. Our drive took us north east on the scenic Highway 50 headed towards the Laurentians, before turning north on the more interesting 323 at Montebello.

As the countryside switched from riverlands to mountains, we began to encounter long, steep climbs. These ascents were of little concern to the heavily loaded rig, but there was one really cool side effect: the six speed transmission dropped to fourth for long stretches, the big V8 spun up to 3,500 rpm at 100 km/h, with a bellow worthy of a Trans-Am car bouncing through the neighbouring forest.

It is worth noting that during our first two days with the TRD-Pro, just booting around town with an empty truck, we averaged about 16.8 L/100 km. As I said before, we knew that the Tundra was a bit thirsty. We were pleasantly surprised to find that even with a very full load, the Tundra’s fuel economy improved to an impressive 16.2 L/100 km at highway speeds.

If you talk to any car racers from the golden age of the late Sixties about Le Circuit Mont Tremblant, inevitably the call it St. Jovite. This is largely because the largest neighbouring town, the one which actually has stores etc. is called St. Jovite. The actual town of Mont Tremblant is a tiny hamlet in between the racing circuit and the gigantic pedestrian village at the base of the historic mountain.

We spent our first night in a wonderful, independent resort called Château Beauvallon, just a few minutes from the pedestrian village. This was the last week in May and we learned that while visiting ski country in the off season can mean that some features, like restaurants, are not available, there are also some perks. We were one of only three rooms occupied in the 70 room hotel and staff had nicely located us directly next to the outdoor hot tub, while the other guests were on the opposite side of the hotel. Even though the on site restaurant was closed, dinner was no problem, as the hotel offered a free shuttle to and from the village.

The draft beer rail at Le Diable micro brewery in Mont Tremblant.

Several of the restaurants in the village were also closed given the time off year, so we settled on dinner at the chain restaurant Casey’s. To say we were unimpressed would be charitable.

I was determined to have a bit of fun so I decided that a visit to Le Diable, a micro brewery right in the pedestrian village, was in order. I have been to the joint on a bunch of press trips, and every single time had a great time. Named after the river which winds its way though the region, Le Diable is night time hub where locals and visitors congregate to consume adult beverages in a setting that is part ski chalet, part sugar shack. On this trip, we spent our evening chatting with a lady who works for the company which owns the resort, watching the shenanigans of a gaggle of off shift employees who were treating the bar like their own playground. It really was quite entertaining!

  Our next few days were spent trackside at the iconic racing track, which hosted the Canadian Grand Prix in 1968 and 1970. We were providing catering for the guests of Driveteq, a company which provides multiple levels of service to driving enthusiasts, from track days and instruction to race car rentals. They have recently included travel in their repertoire, shepherding participants to “bucket list” tracks such as Mosport, Tremblant and The Glen. That meant that we spent our week surrounded by all sorts of sporting machinery, from Alfa Romeo and Porsche to McLaren and Ferrari.

For our final day in town, we took the opportunity to drive some of the spectacular roads around the area. Most are well groomed pavement, with literally hundreds of challenging curves and elevation changes. Mindful of the reality that ski country is usually also cycling country, we learned that the off road focused suspension tuning is remarkably adept at handling twisty roads. The Bilstein shocks do a great job of keeping the wheels planted on hard acceleration over uneven pavement.

The countryside is dotted with cool little hamlets, vintage resorts from days gone by and spectacular views, making a drive through the area almost as much fun as taking in a track day. Watch out for wildlife though, as deer are plentiful and closer in to the ski resort they are not shy.

  For the drive home, we took a similar route home through the Laurentians on our way back to Gatineau, but didn’t think about stopping thanks to the torrential rain. Until of course we came across the home town of Canadian hockey legend Guy Lafleur. Ville de Thurso has a large sculpture of the famed Canadien, so we had to stop by for a quick pic.

The @dcsappliances @toyotacanada #bbq rig with Canadian hockey legend Guy Lafleur. #toyota #trdpro #bbqlife #eventlife #quebec #bbq

A post shared by Gary Grant (@thegarageguy) on Jun 3, 2017 at 8:44am PDT

  The drive home through Ontario cottage country was uneventful as the sun finally broke through and the roads dried out.

  It should actually be pointed out that Quebec is Toyota truck country as there seem to be more of them than any other brand on the roads. Local truck fans knew instantly what our truck was and parking lot compliments were made frequently. One guy event took a picture to send to a buddy.

Overall, the Tundra proved to be a more than willing work partner during the entire trip. We actually spent two full weeks with the truck and it averaged out to 16.3 L/100 KM which is more than acceptable given the tasks it was given. From a comfort level, both driver and passenger were in great shape at both ends of the trip, never feeling anything but comfort.

The Tundra TRD-Pro is one of those test vehicles that I was sad to see go. Very sad.

from garage2 http://ift.tt/2hwHIsg via great info

[chocdono]

Road tripping with the 2017 Toyota Tundra TRD Pro

  Following the muddy launch of the TRD Pro models of Toyota’s Tundra and Tacoma, we headed to the Northern reaches of the Ottawa Valley for a week of work with a sweet Cement Grey Taco, with the DCS Appliances event trailer in tow.  That combined rig stirred up attention everywhere we went, so when a similar trip came onto the horizon recently, it only made sense to see how the big brother Tundra would fare.

Last Fall, we put the Tundra TRD-Pro through its paces in the dirt in Ontario ski country.

The event would see us head from Whitby to Mont Tremblant, a ski town in rural Quebec which also is the home of Le Circuit Mont Tremblant, where we would spend a the better part of the week feeding our friends from Driveteq, who would be spending a couple of days lapping the historic race track.

Once again, we would be grilling on the trailer mounted DCS grill, but we would also be roasting a pig in our La Caja China roaster, which meant we needed a capable hauler with lots of space. We knew the Tundra is big and that the TRD Pro version is tough off road, but would it do the tasks we were presenting it with? We also knew that the Tundra can be a tad on the thirsty side so we were curious to know how it performed when fully loaded.

The traditional domestics have worked hard to surpass the traditional import truck makers when it comes to interior feel and some of them (specifically Ram’s attention to detail) have risen above the rest, including the Tundra. While the interior of the Tundra is both sporty and tough looking, our thoughts were more to the comfort side of things for a long week of driving. How would the seats fare under the weight of my 3XL sized frame and how would my back feel at the end?

Off road packages offered by some manufacturers tend to be of the mild, stickers and fluff variety while others go to the extreme in offering full desert racing spec for those wannabe Baja racers. The TRD-Pro version of the built-in-Texas Tundra falls somewhere to the right of that pendulum arc, offering subtle design cues along with carefully chosen performance upgrades. Beyond the visual branding cues, the most immediately noticeable is the addition of a high flowing performance exhaust, which gives the 381 horsepower 5.7L V8 some serious bark to go with its bite.

When knowledgeable off road enthusiasts start a new build, one of the first changes they often make is to install Bilstein dampers on all four corners, as much for their ability to smooth out a vehicle’s on road presence as for their excellence in the rough stuff. It is heartening that Toyota’s engineering team chose to go the same route when outfitting the TRD-Pro Tundra, as the highway ride is firm yet delightfully smooth for such a big truck.

Naturally, our trip began with the obligatory McMuffin stop!

  Week long road trip to feed people must start with breakfast @sandy_grant @driveteq.ca @toyotacanada @dcsappliances #roadtrip #eventlife #bbqlife #barbeque #

A post shared by Gary Grant (@thegarageguy) on May 29, 2017 at 7:50am PDT

  Our route would take us from Durham region, east of Toronto, through cottage country and skirting the nation’s capital before crossing over into Quebec and heading to ski country. For years, when heading to Ottawa, we would travel the route along Highway 401 like most drivers, until we learned that the trip following the two lane Highway 7 is just as quick. The driving is much more laid back, with great views and lots of little towns to explore and grab a coffee along the way.

  Ceement grey #trdpro Tundra and a caboose! @toyotacanada @dcsappliances @driveteq.ca #havelock #roadtrip #roadlesstraveled #ontario #discoveron @sandy_grant #bbqlife #eventlife

A post shared by Gary Grant (@thegarageguy) on May 29, 2017 at 8:50am PDT

We know the route well now, so our exploration began after our usual visit to Costco in Gatineau to pick up beer for the week. For Ontario residents visiting the Ottawa area, it is worth mentioning that beer in Quebec is seriously cheap. At Costco, which is less than 10 minutes from Parliament Hill, a 24 bottle case of Stella Artois is $46.95 plus deposit at The Beer Store. The same package at Costco is just $27.95 plus deposit.

Having allowed ourselves an extra day before we had to feed the masses, we decided to take a fairly direct route to Mont Tremblant, so we could make the most of our time away. Our drive took us north east on the scenic Highway 50 headed towards the Laurentians, before turning north on the more interesting 323 at Montebello.

As the countryside switched from riverlands to mountains, we began to encounter long, steep climbs. These ascents were of little concern to the heavily loaded rig, but there was one really cool side effect: the six speed transmission dropped to fourth for long stretches, the big V8 spun up to 3,500 rpm at 100 km/h, with a bellow worthy of a Trans-Am car bouncing through the neighbouring forest.

It is worth noting that during our first two days with the TRD-Pro, just booting around town with an empty truck, we averaged about 16.8 L/100 km. As I said before, we knew that the Tundra was a bit thirsty. We were pleasantly surprised to find that even with a very full load, the Tundra’s fuel economy improved to an impressive 16.2 L/100 km at highway speeds.

If you talk to any car racers from the golden age of the late Sixties about Le Circuit Mont Tremblant, inevitably the call it St. Jovite. This is largely because the largest neighbouring town, the one which actually has stores etc. is called St. Jovite. The actual town of Mont Tremblant is a tiny hamlet in between the racing circuit and the gigantic pedestrian village at the base of the historic mountain.

We spent our first night in a wonderful, independent resort called Château Beauvallon, just a few minutes from the pedestrian village. This was the last week in May and we learned that while visiting ski country in the off season can mean that some features, like restaurants, are not available, there are also some perks. We were one of only three rooms occupied in the 70 room hotel and staff had nicely located us directly next to the outdoor hot tub, while the other guests were on the opposite side of the hotel. Even though the on site restaurant was closed, dinner was no problem, as the hotel offered a free shuttle to and from the village.

The draft beer rail at Le Diable micro brewery in Mont Tremblant.

Several of the restaurants in the village were also closed given the time off year, so we settled on dinner at the chain restaurant Casey’s. To say we were unimpressed would be charitable.

I was determined to have a bit of fun so I decided that a visit to Le Diable, a micro brewery right in the pedestrian village, was in order. I have been to the joint on a bunch of press trips, and every single time had a great time. Named after the river which winds its way though the region, Le Diable is night time hub where locals and visitors congregate to consume adult beverages in a setting that is part ski chalet, part sugar shack. On this trip, we spent our evening chatting with a lady who works for the company which owns the resort, watching the shenanigans of a gaggle of off shift employees who were treating the bar like their own playground. It really was quite entertaining!

  Our next few days were spent trackside at the iconic racing track, which hosted the Canadian Grand Prix in 1968 and 1970. We were providing catering for the guests of Driveteq, a company which provides multiple levels of service to driving enthusiasts, from track days and instruction to race car rentals. They have recently included travel in their repertoire, shepherding participants to “bucket list” tracks such as Mosport, Tremblant and The Glen. That meant that we spent our week surrounded by all sorts of sporting machinery, from Alfa Romeo and Porsche to McLaren and Ferrari.

For our final day in town, we took the opportunity to drive some of the spectacular roads around the area. Most are well groomed pavement, with literally hundreds of challenging curves and elevation changes. Mindful of the reality that ski country is usually also cycling country, we learned that the off road focused suspension tuning is remarkably adept at handling twisty roads. The Bilstein shocks do a great job of keeping the wheels planted on hard acceleration over uneven pavement.

The countryside is dotted with cool little hamlets, vintage resorts from days gone by and spectacular views, making a drive through the area almost as much fun as taking in a track day. Watch out for wildlife though, as deer are plentiful and closer in to the ski resort they are not shy.

  For the drive home, we took a similar route home through the Laurentians on our way back to Gatineau, but didn’t think about stopping thanks to the torrential rain. Until of course we came across the home town of Canadian hockey legend Guy Lafleur. Ville de Thurso has a large sculpture of the famed Canadien, so we had to stop by for a quick pic.

The @dcsappliances @toyotacanada #bbq rig with Canadian hockey legend Guy Lafleur. #toyota #trdpro #bbqlife #eventlife #quebec #bbq

A post shared by Gary Grant (@thegarageguy) on Jun 3, 2017 at 8:44am PDT

  The drive home through Ontario cottage country was uneventful as the sun finally broke through and the roads dried out.

  It should actually be pointed out that Quebec is Toyota truck country as there seem to be more of them than any other brand on the roads. Local truck fans knew instantly what our truck was and parking lot compliments were made frequently. One guy event took a picture to send to a buddy.

Overall, the Tundra proved to be a more than willing work partner during the entire trip. We actually spent two full weeks with the truck and it averaged out to 16.3 L/100 KM which is more than acceptable given the tasks it was given. From a comfort level, both driver and passenger were in great shape at both ends of the trip, never feeling anything but comfort.

The Tundra TRD-Pro is one of those test vehicles that I was sad to see go. Very sad.

from mix1 http://ift.tt/2hwHIsg via with this info

[sherlocklexa]

Road tripping with the 2017 Toyota Tundra TRD Pro

  Following the muddy launch of the TRD Pro models of Toyota’s Tundra and Tacoma, we headed to the Northern reaches of the Ottawa Valley for a week of work with a sweet Cement Grey Taco, with the DCS Appliances event trailer in tow.  That combined rig stirred up attention everywhere we went, so when a similar trip came onto the horizon recently, it only made sense to see how the big brother Tundra would fare.

Last Fall, we put the Tundra TRD-Pro through its paces in the dirt in Ontario ski country.

The event would see us head from Whitby to Mont Tremblant, a ski town in rural Quebec which also is the home of Le Circuit Mont Tremblant, where we would spend a the better part of the week feeding our friends from Driveteq, who would be spending a couple of days lapping the historic race track.

Once again, we would be grilling on the trailer mounted DCS grill, but we would also be roasting a pig in our La Caja China roaster, which meant we needed a capable hauler with lots of space. We knew the Tundra is big and that the TRD Pro version is tough off road, but would it do the tasks we were presenting it with? We also knew that the Tundra can be a tad on the thirsty side so we were curious to know how it performed when fully loaded.

The traditional domestics have worked hard to surpass the traditional import truck makers when it comes to interior feel and some of them (specifically Ram’s attention to detail) have risen above the rest, including the Tundra. While the interior of the Tundra is both sporty and tough looking, our thoughts were more to the comfort side of things for a long week of driving. How would the seats fare under the weight of my 3XL sized frame and how would my back feel at the end?

Off road packages offered by some manufacturers tend to be of the mild, stickers and fluff variety while others go to the extreme in offering full desert racing spec for those wannabe Baja racers. The TRD-Pro version of the built-in-Texas Tundra falls somewhere to the right of that pendulum arc, offering subtle design cues along with carefully chosen performance upgrades. Beyond the visual branding cues, the most immediately noticeable is the addition of a high flowing performance exhaust, which gives the 381 horsepower 5.7L V8 some serious bark to go with its bite.

When knowledgeable off road enthusiasts start a new build, one of the first changes they often make is to install Bilstein dampers on all four corners, as much for their ability to smooth out a vehicle’s on road presence as for their excellence in the rough stuff. It is heartening that Toyota’s engineering team chose to go the same route when outfitting the TRD-Pro Tundra, as the highway ride is firm yet delightfully smooth for such a big truck.

Naturally, our trip began with the obligatory McMuffin stop!

  Week long road trip to feed people must start with breakfast @sandy_grant @driveteq.ca @toyotacanada @dcsappliances #roadtrip #eventlife #bbqlife #barbeque #

A post shared by Gary Grant (@thegarageguy) on May 29, 2017 at 7:50am PDT

  Our route would take us from Durham region, east of Toronto, through cottage country and skirting the nation’s capital before crossing over into Quebec and heading to ski country. For years, when heading to Ottawa, we would travel the route along Highway 401 like most drivers, until we learned that the trip following the two lane Highway 7 is just as quick. The driving is much more laid back, with great views and lots of little towns to explore and grab a coffee along the way.

  Ceement grey #trdpro Tundra and a caboose! @toyotacanada @dcsappliances @driveteq.ca #havelock #roadtrip #roadlesstraveled #ontario #discoveron @sandy_grant #bbqlife #eventlife

A post shared by Gary Grant (@thegarageguy) on May 29, 2017 at 8:50am PDT

We know the route well now, so our exploration began after our usual visit to Costco in Gatineau to pick up beer for the week. For Ontario residents visiting the Ottawa area, it is worth mentioning that beer in Quebec is seriously cheap. At Costco, which is less than 10 minutes from Parliament Hill, a 24 bottle case of Stella Artois is $46.95 plus deposit at The Beer Store. The same package at Costco is just $27.95 plus deposit.

Having allowed ourselves an extra day before we had to feed the masses, we decided to take a fairly direct route to Mont Tremblant, so we could make the most of our time away. Our drive took us north east on the scenic Highway 50 headed towards the Laurentians, before turning north on the more interesting 323 at Montebello.

As the countryside switched from riverlands to mountains, we began to encounter long, steep climbs. These ascents were of little concern to the heavily loaded rig, but there was one really cool side effect: the six speed transmission dropped to fourth for long stretches, the big V8 spun up to 3,500 rpm at 100 km/h, with a bellow worthy of a Trans-Am car bouncing through the neighbouring forest.

It is worth noting that during our first two days with the TRD-Pro, just booting around town with an empty truck, we averaged about 16.8 L/100 km. As I said before, we knew that the Tundra was a bit thirsty. We were pleasantly surprised to find that even with a very full load, the Tundra’s fuel economy improved to an impressive 16.2 L/100 km at highway speeds.

If you talk to any car racers from the golden age of the late Sixties about Le Circuit Mont Tremblant, inevitably the call it St. Jovite. This is largely because the largest neighbouring town, the one which actually has stores etc. is called St. Jovite. The actual town of Mont Tremblant is a tiny hamlet in between the racing circuit and the gigantic pedestrian village at the base of the historic mountain.

We spent our first night in a wonderful, independent resort called Château Beauvallon, just a few minutes from the pedestrian village. This was the last week in May and we learned that while visiting ski country in the off season can mean that some features, like restaurants, are not available, there are also some perks. We were one of only three rooms occupied in the 70 room hotel and staff had nicely located us directly next to the outdoor hot tub, while the other guests were on the opposite side of the hotel. Even though the on site restaurant was closed, dinner was no problem, as the hotel offered a free shuttle to and from the village.

The draft beer rail at Le Diable micro brewery in Mont Tremblant.

Several of the restaurants in the village were also closed given the time off year, so we settled on dinner at the chain restaurant Casey’s. To say we were unimpressed would be charitable.

I was determined to have a bit of fun so I decided that a visit to Le Diable, a micro brewery right in the pedestrian village, was in order. I have been to the joint on a bunch of press trips, and every single time had a great time. Named after the river which winds its way though the region, Le Diable is night time hub where locals and visitors congregate to consume adult beverages in a setting that is part ski chalet, part sugar shack. On this trip, we spent our evening chatting with a lady who works for the company which owns the resort, watching the shenanigans of a gaggle of off shift employees who were treating the bar like their own playground. It really was quite entertaining!

  Our next few days were spent trackside at the iconic racing track, which hosted the Canadian Grand Prix in 1968 and 1970. We were providing catering for the guests of Driveteq, a company which provides multiple levels of service to driving enthusiasts, from track days and instruction to race car rentals. They have recently included travel in their repertoire, shepherding participants to “bucket list” tracks such as Mosport, Tremblant and The Glen. That meant that we spent our week surrounded by all sorts of sporting machinery, from Alfa Romeo and Porsche to McLaren and Ferrari.

For our final day in town, we took the opportunity to drive some of the spectacular roads around the area. Most are well groomed pavement, with literally hundreds of challenging curves and elevation changes. Mindful of the reality that ski country is usually also cycling country, we learned that the off road focused suspension tuning is remarkably adept at handling twisty roads. The Bilstein shocks do a great job of keeping the wheels planted on hard acceleration over uneven pavement.

The countryside is dotted with cool little hamlets, vintage resorts from days gone by and spectacular views, making a drive through the area almost as much fun as taking in a track day. Watch out for wildlife though, as deer are plentiful and closer in to the ski resort they are not shy.

  For the drive home, we took a similar route home through the Laurentians on our way back to Gatineau, but didn’t think about stopping thanks to the torrential rain. Until of course we came across the home town of Canadian hockey legend Guy Lafleur. Ville de Thurso has a large sculpture of the famed Canadien, so we had to stop by for a quick pic.

The @dcsappliances @toyotacanada #bbq rig with Canadian hockey legend Guy Lafleur. #toyota #trdpro #bbqlife #eventlife #quebec #bbq

A post shared by Gary Grant (@thegarageguy) on Jun 3, 2017 at 8:44am PDT

  The drive home through Ontario cottage country was uneventful as the sun finally broke through and the roads dried out.

  It should actually be pointed out that Quebec is Toyota truck country as there seem to be more of them than any other brand on the roads. Local truck fans knew instantly what our truck was and parking lot compliments were made frequently. One guy event took a picture to send to a buddy.

Overall, the Tundra proved to be a more than willing work partner during the entire trip. We actually spent two full weeks with the truck and it averaged out to 16.3 L/100 KM which is more than acceptable given the tasks it was given. From a comfort level, both driver and passenger were in great shape at both ends of the trip, never feeling anything but comfort.

The Tundra TRD-Pro is one of those test vehicles that I was sad to see go. Very sad.

from car2 http://ift.tt/2hwHIsg via as shown a lot

[eddiejpoplar]

Crossing (Part of) the Mojave Desert at 76 MPH in the Polaris RZR Dynamix

LAS VEGAS, Nevada — According to Einstein, speed and time are relative. Take, for instance, what it feels like to travel over the smooth black asphalt of Interstate 15 in a 2018 Chevrolet Tahoe Custom while towing a trailer carrying a pair of Polaris RZR Dynamix side-by-sides. The sensation is like that of the average commute—stale, boring, and seemingly endless. But pull one of those new RZRs from the trailer and gun it through the alien-looking environ of the Mojave Desert, and time evaporates.

On the face of it, Chevrolet invited us here to meet the aforementioned 2018 Tahoe Custom, a new $44,995 base-model version of the popular SUV designed for the active lifestyle millennials every automaker chases for sales. Although our time behind the Tahoe’s wheel was short and consisted of a single drive from our hotel on the Las Vegas strip to the middle of the Mojave, the new base Tahoe is no less refined than its better-equipped siblings and makes a hugely compelling case for itself.

However, the real reason I drove four hours through 107-degree desert temperatures while hopped up on Vietnamese coffee was to get behind the wheel of one of those Polaris side-by-sides. This wasn’t my first time in one, as I drove its predecessor, the RZR XP Turbo EPS, as well as the rival Can-Am Maverick, out in the sand dunes of Glamis, California, back in 2016. I left that experience hugely impressed by the off-road machines and couldn’t see how the side-by-side formula of plentiful horsepower, copious suspension travel, and brick house-solid construction could be any more capable. Polaris, at least, found a way.

Like the XP Turbo EPS, the RZR Dynamix is powered by a turbocharged, 925cc four-stroke DOHC twin-cylinder engine pumping out 168 horsepower, and it features selectable four-wheel-drive and is capable of exceeding 80 mph. But the RZR Dynamix feels less like a generational leap forward and more like a real leap into the future thanks to its new Dynamix adaptive suspension. While select road-going automobiles have been offered with electronic adaptive suspension setups for quite some time, this is the first application in the world of off-road side-by-sides.

Co-developed by Polaris and Fox Racing, a titan among the off-road racing community that also partnered with Ford for the F-150 Raptor, the RZR Dynamix uses Fox’s 2.5 Podium Live Valve with Bottom Control electronic shocks, which check driver inputs hundreds of times per second, as well as the state of the wheel, to change suspension settings to best suit the terrain.

This new setup—which has three different drive modes including Comfort, Sport, and Firm—gives the RZR Dynamix 16-inches of suspension travel at the front and 18-inches at the rear. It soaks up every bump, boulder, rocky rut, jump, and hard-pack dirt fissure rampant in the Mojave with ease, as I found out on the tortuous 30-mile trail that led us through a host of the desert’s most dynamic terrains. This included sections of almost talc-like sand that caked our jeans and lungs, boulders and granite ledges where slow and steady was still too fast, and rock- and crevasse-laden high-speed rally stages just across from where the Mint 400 rally takes place.

Although the initial briefing by Polaris was informative and thorough, nothing could prepare me for what the RZR Dynamix was capable of. The quickness of the throttle and the stability of the electronically controlled suspension gave me extra confidence as our convoy made its way through the BLM-controlled Mojave’s first obstacle: fine, talc-like sands.

In a line of seven RZR Dynamix side-by-sides, one issue immediately arose—the virtual sandstorm kicked up by the RZRs ahead. Getting close to anyone meant visibility dropped to almost zero; on unfamiliar terrain that has a habit of falling away, turning, or plopping large boulders in your path, it becomes unsafe. Speed had to be kept down and following distance had to be maintained.

Past the sand, we entered a more rocky area, our column lumbering from rock to ledge to boulder, moving slowly and steadily forward until the path flattened. Though far from racetrack smooth, it was far more level than the previously Grand Canyon-esque route. More importantly, it allowed me to finally open up the tap on the RZR Dynamix.

The first time I buried the accelerator, I hooted and hollered. My adrenaline surged, my eyes widened, and a buzzy feeling swept over my body. The turbocharged engine spooled quickly, rapidly sending me speeding—nay, skipping—across some of the most brutally raw rocky paths. As the Polaris side-by-side hit what felt like comical speeds, the suspension ironed out the soil underneath its knobby off-road tires.

As we barreled across the desert alongside towering power lines, every second was devoted to keeping my foot to the floor and the two-seater rubber side down. There’s nothing quite like traveling at a sustained 76 mph over terrain that most wouldn’t consider even walking through—and here, 76 feels more like a blitz towards 240 mph in a Bugatti Veyron at Ehra-Lessien than a commute down the 105. Everything passes the open windows so quickly, your brain never really gets the chance to process the path in front of you. Everything becomes instinctual. And yet, control over the RZR Dynamix never left my fingertips. The only word that accurately describes the experience, at least in polite company, is “exhilarating.”

Having driven other rally-spec vehicles before, I expected the buggy to wobble, sway, buck, and threaten to roll over while travelling over rough and uneven terrain at preposterous speeds. But Polaris and Fox did such an amazing job of tuning the RZR Dynamix’s adaptive suspension that it instills the supreme level of confidence needed to push beyond your limits and toward its boundaries. In fact, at the end of the day, I went up to the man from Polaris and asked if it would be possible to enter an RZR Dynamix in the upcoming 400-mile Mint 400 off-road endurance rally.

Later, we later swapped into a standard RZR without the Dynamix suspension. As expected, it wasn’t nearly as good at dealing with the rancorous path. I quickly climbed back into the RZR Dynamix and pointed the nose back toward base camp, laying into the turbocharged engine once again.

Back at camp, covered in dirt and sweat, it struck me as honestly amazing that this buggy exists as it is. Between its  knife-sharp throttle, 1970s Cadillac-soft suspension, mountain goat-like levels of off-road ability, and a cost of just $25,999, the Polaris RZR Dynamix is a major off-road deal. At the end of the day, after hours of baking in the 107-degree desert sun, with gravel in my hair and the sand’s grit in my teeth, I didn’t want to escape the Polaris’ clutches, and neither will you.

[jonathanbelloblog]

Crossing (Part of) the Mojave Desert at 76 MPH in the Polaris RZR Dynamix

LAS VEGAS, Nevada — According to Einstein, speed and time are relative. Take, for instance, what it feels like to travel over the smooth black asphalt of Interstate 15 in a 2018 Chevrolet Tahoe Custom while towing a trailer carrying a pair of Polaris RZR Dynamix side-by-sides. The sensation is like that of the average commute—stale, boring, and seemingly endless. But pull one of those new RZRs from the trailer and gun it through the alien-looking environ of the Mojave Desert, and time evaporates.

On the face of it, Chevrolet invited us here to meet the aforementioned 2018 Tahoe Custom, a new $44,995 base-model version of the popular SUV designed for the active lifestyle millennials every automaker chases for sales. Although our time behind the Tahoe’s wheel was short and consisted of a single drive from our hotel on the Las Vegas strip to the middle of the Mojave, the new base Tahoe is no less refined than its better-equipped siblings and makes a hugely compelling case for itself.

However, the real reason I drove four hours through 107-degree desert temperatures while hopped up on Vietnamese coffee was to get behind the wheel of one of those Polaris side-by-sides. This wasn’t my first time in one, as I drove its predecessor, the RZR XP Turbo EPS, as well as the rival Can-Am Maverick, out in the sand dunes of Glamis, California, back in 2016. I left that experience hugely impressed by the off-road machines and couldn’t see how the side-by-side formula of plentiful horsepower, copious suspension travel, and brick house-solid construction could be any more capable. Polaris, at least, found a way.

Like the XP Turbo EPS, the RZR Dynamix is powered by a turbocharged, 925cc four-stroke DOHC twin-cylinder engine pumping out 168 horsepower, and it features selectable four-wheel-drive and is capable of exceeding 80 mph. But the RZR Dynamix feels less like a generational leap forward and more like a real leap into the future thanks to its new Dynamix adaptive suspension. While select road-going automobiles have been offered with electronic adaptive suspension setups for quite some time, this is the first application in the world of off-road side-by-sides.

Co-developed by Polaris and Fox Racing, a titan among the off-road racing community that also partnered with Ford for the F-150 Raptor, the RZR Dynamix uses Fox’s 2.5 Podium Live Valve with Bottom Control electronic shocks, which check driver inputs hundreds of times per second, as well as the state of the wheel, to change suspension settings to best suit the terrain.

This new setup—which has three different drive modes including Comfort, Sport, and Firm—gives the RZR Dynamix 16-inches of suspension travel at the front and 18-inches at the rear. It soaks up every bump, boulder, rocky rut, jump, and hard-pack dirt fissure rampant in the Mojave with ease, as I found out on the tortuous 30-mile trail that led us through a host of the desert’s most dynamic terrains. This included sections of almost talc-like sand that caked our jeans and lungs, boulders and granite ledges where slow and steady was still too fast, and rock- and crevasse-laden high-speed rally stages just across from where the Mint 400 rally takes place.

Although the initial briefing by Polaris was informative and thorough, nothing could prepare me for what the RZR Dynamix was capable of. The quickness of the throttle and the stability of the electronically controlled suspension gave me extra confidence as our convoy made its way through the BLM-controlled Mojave’s first obstacle: fine, talc-like sands.

In a line of seven RZR Dynamix side-by-sides, one issue immediately arose—the virtual sandstorm kicked up by the RZRs ahead. Getting close to anyone meant visibility dropped to almost zero; on unfamiliar terrain that has a habit of falling away, turning, or plopping large boulders in your path, it becomes unsafe. Speed had to be kept down and following distance had to be maintained.

Past the sand, we entered a more rocky area, our column lumbering from rock to ledge to boulder, moving slowly and steadily forward until the path flattened. Though far from racetrack smooth, it was far more level than the previously Grand Canyon-esque route. More importantly, it allowed me to finally open up the tap on the RZR Dynamix.

The first time I buried the accelerator, I hooted and hollered. My adrenaline surged, my eyes widened, and a buzzy feeling swept over my body. The turbocharged engine spooled quickly, rapidly sending me speeding—nay, skipping—across some of the most brutally raw rocky paths. As the Polaris side-by-side hit what felt like comical speeds, the suspension ironed out the soil underneath its knobby off-road tires.

As we barreled across the desert alongside towering power lines, every second was devoted to keeping my foot to the floor and the two-seater rubber side down. There’s nothing quite like traveling at a sustained 76 mph over terrain that most wouldn’t consider even walking through—and here, 76 feels more like a blitz towards 240 mph in a Bugatti Veyron at Ehra-Lessien than a commute down the 105. Everything passes the open windows so quickly, your brain never really gets the chance to process the path in front of you. Everything becomes instinctual. And yet, control over the RZR Dynamix never left my fingertips. The only word that accurately describes the experience, at least in polite company, is “exhilarating.”

Having driven other rally-spec vehicles before, I expected the buggy to wobble, sway, buck, and threaten to roll over while travelling over rough and uneven terrain at preposterous speeds. But Polaris and Fox did such an amazing job of tuning the RZR Dynamix’s adaptive suspension that it instills the supreme level of confidence needed to push beyond your limits and toward its boundaries. In fact, at the end of the day, I went up to the man from Polaris and asked if it would be possible to enter an RZR Dynamix in the upcoming 400-mile Mint 400 off-road endurance rally.

Later, we later swapped into a standard RZR without the Dynamix suspension. As expected, it wasn’t nearly as good at dealing with the rancorous path. I quickly climbed back into the RZR Dynamix and pointed the nose back toward base camp, laying into the turbocharged engine once again.

Back at camp, covered in dirt and sweat, it struck me as honestly amazing that this buggy exists as it is. Between its  knife-sharp throttle, 1970s Cadillac-soft suspension, mountain goat-like levels of off-road ability, and a cost of just $25,999, the Polaris RZR Dynamix is a major off-road deal. At the end of the day, after hours of baking in the 107-degree desert sun, with gravel in my hair and the sand’s grit in my teeth, I didn’t want to escape the Polaris’ clutches, and neither will you.