#they will be in three different factory teams next year

[vitalverstappen]

Cassandra - C. Leclerc

summary: when everyone believes you, what's that like?

pairing: Charles Leclerc x platonic teammate! reader

warnings: Mattia Binotto, swearing, some sexist comments

word count: 3k

a/n: in honor of max winning the WDC, i figured i'd post something. in honor of charles finally losing his shit on the team radio, i figured i'd post this. also it takes place during the 2022 season

masterlist

the tortured drivers department masterlist

2022 was supposed to be your year. You broke onto the F1 scene in 2020 with Haas after working your way up through F3 and F2, championing both levels of racing with ease. You proved yourself time and time again by consistently placing within the points in a less than superior car. 

That’s how you got the attention of Ferrari. They offered you a one year deal, and you couldn’t turn it down. You were okay with being the second driver, because you were racing for the most historic team in F1. 

Things started out great. The car was a major upgrade from the tractor you were driving with Haas, and the team actively listened to your input and took having a woman in the car seriously.

You and Charles also clicked instantly, which led to some amazing content for the social teams. 

“Anything you need, or feel needs changed, let us know. We’re a family here” Mattia said as he gave you the tour of the Ferrari factory.

You couldn’t have drawn up the first two races any better. Both you and Charles were on the podium and it looked like you two were going to give Max and Red Bull a run for their money in the championship races. 

The downward spiral started in Australia. From the moment you hit the track for the first time, something felt off. The car was sluggish, it took all of your strength to accelerate and brake properly. 

“There’s something wrong with the car.” you told the team, your frustration mounting. “It takes forever to accelerate and then when I do, I can’t break”

“Have you tried leg day?” Mattia asked, a smirk forming on his face, causing you to storm away and find your mechanics. 

The Australian Grand Prix ended up being a disaster. You struggled through the laps, barely able to keep up with the field. The car was just too much of a handful. Thirteen laps in, you hand no choice but to retire from the race. The speed was gone, and your confidence was shot. 

“I cannot believe he looked me in the eyes and said ‘try leg day’” You fumed as you barged into Charles’ driver room. The frustration was evident in every word, your anger still fresh from the weekend’s events. 

Charles looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow at your entrance. “Well hello to you too” he said with a small chuckle. “What’s going on?” 

You let out a deep sigh and recounted the car troubles and the interaction with Mattia. “He actually said ‘try leg day’ to me, like it’s some kind of joke. What happened to ‘if you need anything, let me know’?”

Charles listened intently, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “Hopefully it was just an assembly issue” he said, trying to ease your frustration. ”Imola should go smoothly for the two of us. We both know you’re a hell of a driver.” 

Imola was next, and that was somehow even worse than Australia. Instead of acceleration and braking problems, the new issue was the engine. It had to be replaced between practice 3 and qualifying, only for the new one to fail during the race in Imola. 

“I have the utmost trust in my team.” You said during your press interviews “We’ve tried upgrades, but they’ve fallen flat. Hopefully Miami provides some better results” 

For Miami, the team had reverted your car back to the original set up, the one it had when the season started. The difference was night and day. The car felt responsive, alive in ways it hadn’t in the past few races. As you flew through all three practice sessions and qualifynig, you could feel the weight lift from your shoulders. You had been pushing the limits all weekend, and it had paid off - P2, only behind Charles. Things were looking up. 

The problem now was the strategy. As the number two driver, you knew your strategies were mostly going to be defend defend defend but you didn’t realize how badly Ferrari’s lack of adaptability would come into play 

The race was shaping up to be intense. Charles had led most of it, with Max behind him. You were right behind Max, keeping a steady pace, but always aware of the massive pressure from the drivers behind. Then, when Charles pitted, you thought, for sure, you’d get the green light to battle Max for the lead. After all, you were right there, in prime position.

Instead, the radio crackled to life. 

“Y/n keep defending. Leclerc will be back up there in no time.” Your engineer said

You blinked, incredulous. “I’m sorry what?” You couldn’t believe what you just heard. 

“Defend Max. Charles will be back up there to take over. Hold your position” he repeated as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Are you fucking serious?” you barked back, your grip tightening on your steering wheel. “I can overtake him for the lead and you want me to defend?!” 

Before your engineer could respond, Mattia’s voice boomed over your radio “Defend y/n. Team orders.” 

You could feel your irritation building, but there was no choice. Ferrari had spoken. You stayed behind Max, holding position, and waiting for Charles to catch up. Sure enough, Charles had soon found his way back to you, but by that point, Max was far enough ahead that any shot at victory was all but lost. 

Later, in the media pen, you stood with the press surrounding you, microphones, shoved in your face. They asked you the usual questions, but you were still stewing over what had happened. 

“Yeah, I mean the car felt great” You started, trying to keep your tone even. “We reverted back to the original, pre-upgrades and the car showed it’s worth”

The reporter pressed further. “Now even though the car was great, why do you think you couldn’t pull off the win? You were less than a second behind Max, and chose to defend your position instead of attacking.”

A disappointed sigh escaped your lips. You were tired of repeating the same frustrations. “If it was up to me, I would have attacked. I know we would’ve gotten a different result on the podium today. If we had a different strategy, then we would have gotten many more points.” 

“How do you think this result is going to impact the championships?” another reporter asked 

You paused, considering the question. “It could make or break it. There’s a large jump of points between one, two and three, and one thrown away strategy can make or break a shot at either championship. I’m just hoping they don’t mess up Charles’ strategies like they have mine.” 

As you finished your media duties, you made your way back to the garage, expecting to be alone with your thoughts. But to your surprise, Charles was waiting for you.  

“What are you doing here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you approached

“I, uh, wanted to congratulate you on P3. You had a good race out there” He said sheepishly, his hands shoved in his pockets.

You shrugged, the weight of the day still on you. “I could have won if my strategy wasn’t total shit.” you muttered, your tone flat.

Charles let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get it. P1 and P2 would have been great, but strategy isn’t Ferrari’s strong suit” he admitted, his eyes meeting yours with a shared understanding.

“So I’ve learned.” you replied dryly. “I just hope it isn’t bad enough to fuck up winning either championship” 

He nodded, a look of quiet concern in his eyes. “So do I. I’m terrified my shot at a driver’s championship is gonna slip away” 

Before you knew it, your interview was trending all over social media. Clips of you talking about the strategy missteps were circulating, and the Tifosi and general F1 fans alike were all over it. They didn’t believe you. They thought you were complaining, too bitter about the loss, and some even accused you of undermining the team. The backlash was stiff.

User1: there’s no way they’re going to mess up the golden boy’s strategy. Mattia cares too much about winning to do that

User2: y/n doesn’t know racing. She’s obviously going to get the shit strategy - she’s not charles 

User3: Ferrari needs to get rid of her. She doesn’t belong here #burnthebitch

Before media day in Spain, you got called into Mattia’s office. 

“Thank you for joining me on such quick notice y/n” Mattia said with a smile as you walked in 

You gave him a polite smile as you sat across from his desk “Of course. Why did you call me in?” 

The smile on his face instantly hardened “We need to talk about how you approach the media. You embarrassed myself, along with the rest of the Ferrari staff during Miami.” 

You found yourself fixing your posture and dropping the smile you had previously, prepared to go toe to toe with your principal. “I would say I told the truth on how the race was handled. We could have left Miami with eleven more points, had we gone P1 and P2”

Mattia sighed “That may be true, but we know you couldn’t have battled Max safely. Regardless, that was two weeks ago. We need to focus on Spain now.” 

“Whatever” You mutter “ If we provide sufficient results, I’ll give you praise. If we don’t, I’ll keep mentioning what needs to be done better. Simple as that” 

Spain turned out better for you than it did for Charles. You had finished P4, while Charles was forced to retire. Another blow for Ferrari. 

Both of you managed to score points in Monaco. The car felt good and it seemed like the team was back to how they were at the start of the season. That is until Baku. 

The start of the race seemed like it was going well. The practices and qualifying went well. Charles was on pole and you were not far behind him at P4. But that’s when the good luck ended. Just like the Australian Grand Prix, your brakes were faulty, and this time your clutch wasn’t working. 

“Check the hydraulics - brakes aren’t working again and clutch is out.” You voiced over the radio, concern filling your words 

After a few moments of silence, your engineer’s voice filled your ears. “Seems we have a uh hydraulic problem. You need to retire the car.” 

You muttered a curse as you found a spot to pull your car off. If it wasn’t a strategy issue, it was the car. If it wasn’t the car, it was something else. Something always had to go wrong. 

It was only lap eight and Charles was still driving. You had some hope he could get points for the team and for his championship. 

Throwing on a spare headset in the Ferrari garage, you watched as Charles battled through the streets of Baku. Just as quick as he was driving, the problems with his car also began to show. He had to retire only a handful of laps later with a power problem. 

While Ferrari’s golden boy wouldn’t have a negative thing to say about them during the pressers, you had much less of a filter. 

“You can mark my words that we aren’t winning a championship this year. As much as I want to put faith into our team and our strategies, we’ve shown time and time again we come up short.” 

Instead of your remarks being pushed aside by everyone, you found yourself in the spotlight. All eyes were on you as you walked into the paddock for the British Grand Prix. You acknowledged your team out of respect, and they greeted you back, but you could tell there was tension. 

“Mattia wanted me to tell you that the strategy for today is the same as usual: protect Charles.” Your engineer told you as the two of you sat down for lunch

You furrowed your eyebrows “Why couldn’t Mattia tell me that himself?” 

“He doesn’t think you deserve his time and energy” He said, rolling his eyes 

A scoff left your lips “That’s ridiculous. We’re both adults. He needs to act like it.” 

“You’re telling me” Your engineer muttered 

Before you knew it, it was lights out at Silverstone. The race was a disaster for everyone. While a scary crash had been cleaned up, leading to a restart, another safety car was put out for a stopped car. 

“Y/n box box” Your engineer spoke through your earbuds 

Under the safety car, you were able to pit and get fresh soft tires. When the race resumed, you quickly found yourself behind Charles. 

“Am I defending again?” You asked 

“You are free to overtake, but you must give up the position once Charles gets back up after pitting” 

“You mean Charles didn’t box under the safety car?” 

“Correct.” 

“Fucking idiots” You sighed, but did as you were told. 

Charles easily gave up the front position to you as he headed to the pit lane. You expected him to make a quick comeback in the next few laps, but as the laps ticked by, the gap remained. The radio crackled with instructions from your engineer, and you kept your focus, pushing through. 

And just like that, you crossed the finish line. Your first Grand Prix victory. 

The celebrations were a blur - the podium, the champagne, the flashing cameras. As the trophy was handed to you, you felt a surge of pride, but the weight of the race still hung in the air. Charles had been a force throughout the race, and even though you had won, it felt wrong that he hadn’t been able to capitalize on his pace. 

After the post-race formalities wrapped up, you found yourself in Charles’ room, finally able to breathe. He greeted you with a grin, the kind that only someone who experienced a dramatic race could wear.

“Congratulations! First win!” Charles said, his voice full of enthusiasm 

“You should have fucking won that and we both know it.” You said as you tossed him a Gatorade 

Charles caught the bottle with a small chuckle, cracking it open “You’re fucking telling me.” he said, taking a long swing. “At least Mattia didn’t chastise you on national TV.” 

You leaned against the wall, your arms crossed. “Maybe we’ll both be off speaking terms with him by the end of the season,” you joked, but there was no humor in the situation. “But seriously, what did he say?” 

Charles groaned, clearly not looking forward to recounting the conversation “Basically that I needed to listen to team orders. He was pissed that I was pissed that I didn’t win the thing. Said I needed to trust that the team knows what they’re doing.”

“They know what they’re doing?” You raised an eyebrow “Because the last time I checked, they’ve messed up both of our races this season” 

“Tell me about it” His tone shifted, frustration building, “I need him out.” 

A small grin tugged at the corner of your mouth “Twenty bucks he’s out of his job by the end of the season” 

Charles hesitated for a moment, then extended his hand “Deal” 

The rest of the season trudged along, with highs and lows in the car, the strategy, and the relationship between Mattia and his drivers. There were some days he would be all over their radios encouraging them, while others he would avoid them like the plague. 

And sure enough, once Abu Dhabi came, Charles and Ferrari were so far behind Max and Red Bull that it was impossible to catch up to them in either championship. Mattia announced that he would be stepping down at the end of the season, and you had repaired your rocky relationship with your team, allowing you to renew your contract with Ferrari. 

It was the final time in the media pen this season, and it felt much different. The usual questions about the ups and downs of the season were there, but now they came with a certain respect - respect for the struggles you had endured and for the candidness with which you handled it all. Your honest take on Ferrari’s performance had earned its fair share of criticism, but it had also sparked conversations, both within the paddock and among fans. 

The final question from the reporter hit differently. The interviewer’s tone wasn’t mocking, but rather filled with a certain curiosity. “How does it feel to know that you had called it earlier in the season, that Ferrari weren’t going to win either championship this year?”

The question hung in the air for a moment as you processed it. The emotions of the entire season flashed through your mind: the excitement of the podiums early on, the disappointment after races like Miami and Baku, the frustrations with the strategies, and the battles you fought on and off the track. It had been a rollercoaster, and while it hadn’t turned out the way you had hoped, you were still standing. 

You cracked a smile as you spoke, a mix of pride and exhaustion “Oh, so you guys believe me now?” you said, your voice light but laced with the weight of everything that had happened. “Have a good winter break. I’ll see you in Bahrain” 

It was the moment of closure you needed. The reporter thanked you for your time, before wishing you a good break as well. As you walked away from the media pen with Charles by your side, the season’s tension finally seemed to release, at least for a moment. 

Charles, sensing the mood, nudged you. “That was… honestly, impressive. You know, calling it before anyone else.” 

You let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess I had a feeling.” you said, shrugging. “At least I wasn’t wrong.”

Charles smirked, clearly tired but also relieved that the season was over. “Let’s just hope next year’s a little less… chaotic, yeah?”

“Agreed.”

[ayrtonswnna]

⠀⠀⠀MENTOR 〃 lewis hamilton x amala wilson (female driver!oc)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✧₊⁺ oneshot. fluff/slight angst/hurt/comfort; word count: 4.3K

✧ my masterlist! ✧ requests are open! ✧ more lewis!

amala and lewis' best moments as the ferrari's 2025 duo.

warnings: just soft sweet light hearted fluff, it's supposed to be very chill. not really conected to the reality at all, parents issues, slight swearing. guess that's all.

The first day in Maranello had all the grandeur you’d expect. The sun gleamed off the red of the Ferrari factory, and the hum of engines was constant in the background. It was a scene Lewis Hamilton had lived countless times before, yet today felt different. This was a new chapter, even for him. The legend, the seven-time World Champion, now stepping into the iconic red suit at 40. He was ready to lead.

Amala, on the other hand, felt the weight of her helmet even before the season had begun. Twenty-three years old, fresh from an F2 championship, and walking into a world where everything was bigger, louder, and far more intense than anything she’d known. Ferrari wasn’t just a team; it was a legacy.

Lewis caught sight of her during a team meeting. She sat quietly at the edge of the room, her shoulders squared but her hands gripping her notebook a little too tight. When it was her turn to speak, she kept it short and to the point, her voice steady but soft. Lewis smiled to himself. She reminded him of how he’d felt in his rookie days—focused but slightly unsure where to place himself.

After the meeting, he approached her casually, hands in his pockets. “Hey, Amala,” he said, his voice warm and relaxed. “You handled yourself really well in there. It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

She blinked, caught off guard by his friendliness. “Oh… thanks. Yeah, it’s definitely… a lot.”

Lewis chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. And hey, if you ever need anything — advice, someone to vent to, whatever — I’m here.”

Amala nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks, Lewis. That… means a lot.”

“Call me Lew,” he said with a grin. “We’re teammates now, after all.”

001. “see my environment?”

The first race weekend of the season came with all the chaos and nerves Amala expected — and then some more. She finished a respectable P8, scoring points on her debut, while Lewis took P2, narrowly missing out on the win. The team was thrilled, and the paddock buzzed with energy. But as the celebrations roared on, Amala slipped away quietly to her driver’s room. Lewis watched from across the garage, in his dad’s arms shaking him excitedly while the team set the — freshly out the podium trophy for some pictures.

Amala sat on the small sofa, her head tilted back against the wall, eyes closed. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, but the emptiness of the room was a stark contrast to the noise outside. She just needed some time to let it sink in. A lot has changed over the past few moments and that’s a focused one. She never knows when it’s time to celebrate. It’s always just a break until the next fight.

A soft knock on the door made her sit up. Before she could answer, Lewis poked his head in. “Hey, mind if I come in?”

She shook her head, a little startled. “No, uh, come in.”

Lewis stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and studied her for a moment. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” she said quickly, though her voice betrayed her. “Do you… Do you need anything?”

“No, hum… Just checking in. You sure you’re ok? You were great out there today, pretty impressive. Rookie year with that confidence? Lucky you’re my teammate.” His tone was easy, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that made her chest tighten.

She is a quiet one, her presence could be unnoticed in many places. But not inside the car, Lewis is more than right. She’s a statement behind the wheel.

“Thanks,” she said softly, looking down at her hands. “It’s alright, I swear. Just keeping the focus. Haven't won anything yet. Trying to keep it down.”

Lewis nodded, understanding instantly, but obligating himself to disagree.  “I get that. But… You gotta celebrate the small things too, you know? It’s good to give yourself the credits. Imagine if we get on a tight fight by the end of the season, and then… Your points from today earn us the championship?”

Amala looked up at him, her expression softening. 

“That’d be crazy.” she chuckled a bit, finding fun in the near-the-impossible-possibility. Him making up scenarios just to cheer her up was funny in fact. “But no celebrating before anything like that happens — see my environment?” she looked around the empty room. “I’d rather not get ahead of myself.”

He smiled and pushed off the wall; that might be their longest casual conversation. “How about this — come have dinner with my family tonight. We do get a bit ahead of ourselves but… It’s fun anyways.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—” she started, but he held up a hand.

“No arguments. You’re coming. Besides, my niece would love you. She’s a little obsessed with fast cars.”

Amala couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Alright. Thanks, Lew.”

“Anytime,” he said with a wink before heading for the door. “See you in an hour. Don’t be late.”

002. “maybe we should change that.”

The cafeteria at the track was bustling, but Amala found a quiet corner where she could eat in peace. She had just started on her pasta when a tray plopped down across from her. It’s media day thursday, more staff, less noise. Just the good-old-garage-buzz.

“Mind if I join?” Lewis asked, already sitting down with a grin.

“Uh, sure.” she said, slightly caught off guard.

“Cool. Needed an excuse to get away from all the tech talk. Sometimes I swear they just make up words to mess with me,” he joked, twirling a forkful of food.

Amala chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve heard some pretty creative terms this week.”

Lewis leaned in conspiratorially. “I personally just nod and say, ‘Ah, yes, the flux capacitor.’ Works every time.”

“You’re kidding.” Amala snorted, laying back on the chair. “You don’t even know what that means, Lewis.”

“Dead serious,” he said, laughing. “And- Yeah, but they don't know that I don’t know. You’ve got a lot to learn with me, rookie.”

As they ate, Lewis kept the conversation light, sharing funny stories from his career and occasionally poking fun at himself. “I once called my engineer ‘mum’ over the radio,” he admitted. “Didn’t live that one down for months.”

Amala laughed so hard she nearly choked. “Stop, you’re making me look ridiculous.”

“Nah.” he said, leaning back with a satisfied smile. “That’s your best look, I don’t see you laughing a lot.”

“Yeah, Sir Lewis Hamilton. I am in a helmet for most of the times you see me.” she squinted her eyes, not even noticing she just built up to exactly what Lewis wanted.

“Right. You are right. Maybe we should change that.”

003. “you make it look so easy.”

The day at the karting track was meant to be a lighthearted PR event for Ferrari,even if it was all news for their second driver. The Ferrari social media team had organized a "friendly" race between her and Lewis, with enough microphones and GoPros strapped to them to make anyone nervous.

“Alright, rookie.” Lewis said, walking up to her with his helmet tucked under his arm. “You ready to lose?”

Amala raised an eyebrow, trying to match his playful tone. “Confident for someone who hasn’t seen me drive a kart yet.”

Lewis grinned. “Fair. But you haven’t seen me drive one either.”

“Pretty sure I’ve seen you drive everything.” she said, rolling her eyes. “You forget you’re old, Sir.”

“Wow! Right at me!” he laughed, nudging her shoulder lightly. “Touché. But that also means I’ve got years of experience with these bad boys. You’re going down.”

They lined up on the track, and as soon as the green flag waved, Amala’s nerves gave way to her competitive instincts. She wasn’t about to let him win without a fight. Lap after lap, she stayed right on his tail, taking every opportunity to challenge him in the corners.

After crossing the finish line — Lewis barely ahead of her — he hopped out of his kart with a victorious cheer. “Still got it!” he said, raising his arms in mock celebration.

Amala unbuckled the seatbelts, shaking her head with a small smile. “You know I let you win, right?”

“Oh, is that what happened?” he teased, walking over to her. Without thinking, he placed a hand on her waist to steady her as she stepped down from the kart. “Don’t worry, next time I’ll go easy on you.”

She froze for a moment at the casual touch, but his hand fell away as quickly as it had landed. It felt natural—friendly, even. She tried not to think too much about it.

After the event wrapped up, they found themselves sitting on a bench near the track, sharing a basket of fries. “So,” Lewis said, dipping a fry into ketchup, “having fun yet?”

Amala nodded. “More than I thought I would. I guess I’m still getting used to… all of this.” She gestured vaguely to the cameras, the team, the whole Ferrari whirlwind.

“I get it,” Lewis said, leaning back. “It’s a lot, especially when you’re new. But you’re handling it like a pro.”

She hesitated before speaking. “You make it look so easy.”

Lewis shrugged. “Trust me, it wasn’t always. My first few years? I had no clue what I was doing half the time. And don’t get me started on the pressure. But it helps when you have people in your corner. Like… I don’t remember a single time I didn’t have my dad, or mom. And now with my sister’s kids… It gets easier to face things.”

Amala glanced at him, her voice soft. “That’s very sweet.” she smiled. “Not for me, though. Mom and dad are all about fighting and- Uh, I can’t even imagine what would have happened if they were around like that.” she scoffed, so comfortable by his side that it felt natural to speak. “That’s why Miss-big-girl right here handles shit alone. It works too, I swear.”

Lewis’s expression shifted, his usual easygoing smile replaced by something more thoughtful. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He paused, then added, “But you’ve got people now. The team, me… We’re here for you, Amala. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Her chest tightened at his words, but in a good way. “Thanks.” she smiled. “You really are good company- like… for a man of age? You’re doing great.”

He grinned, nudging her shoulder again. “How did you become such a meanie, dear Lord!” it’s a full laugh now. “But alright, since I am man of age… I deserve proper treatment! These fries you’ve ordered?” he takes a small one from the fries, slowly throwing at her. “Disrespectful. I know you couldn’t find any other vegan option. Simply disrespectful.”

Amala laughed, finally feeling at ease. “Noted. Next time, I’ll make sure to get something you approve of, grandpa.”

004. “I really don’t want to mess this up.”

The energy after the double podium was electric. Lewis had taken P1, and Amala secured her first podium with a solid P3. The team flooded the podium with cheers, and the champagne flowed freely as they celebrated under the floodlights.

Lewis, in his element, sprayed champagne at Amala, laughing as she shrieked and tried to dodge. She retaliated, soaking him in return, and for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t thinking about the cameras or the pressure — just the sheer joy of the moment.

Amala barely had a second to catch her breath before Lewis was grabbing her by the wrist, a wide grin spread across his face. The champagne bottle in his other hand was already half-empty from the chaos of celebration, but that didn’t stop him from tilting it toward her.

“You’re way too dry for someone who just got a podium,” he teased, shaking the bottle again.

“Lewis, don’t you d—”

Too late. The icy spray hit her square in the chest, and she let out a loud squeal, stumbling back as he kept going, grinning like a kid causing trouble. She turned away, trying to shield herself, but he just followed, relentless.

“Alright, alright! You made your point!” she laughed, holding up her hands in surrender.

Lewis just raised an eyebrow, still aiming the bottle at her. “Nah, I don’t think I did.”

Another wave of champagne rained over her, and Amala groaned, wiping at her soaked race suit. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love it,” he shot back without missing a beat, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

She wanted to shove him, to get back at him somehow, but then it all hit her — the flashing cameras, the roaring cheers, the red sea of Ferrari fans losing their minds, the sight of her name on the podium next to his. She had dreamed of this since she was a kid, since she first understood what Formula 1 was. And now she was here. Really here.

The smile was still stretched across her face, but suddenly, her throat felt tight. Her vision blurred, and before she could even think about wiping away the tears, Lewis saw them. His expression softened instantly, the teasing gone in a heartbeat.

“Hey,” he said, stepping closer. “Come here.”

And then she was in his arms — no hesitation, no second-guessing. He wrapped her up in the biggest hug, lifting her off the ground like she weighed nothing, spinning her in circles as the crowd cheered even louder. She let out a breathless laugh, clinging to his shoulders, tears mixing with the champagne on her face.

“You did it,” Lewis murmured against her hair, holding her tight. “You fucking did it.”

And for the first time, Amala let herself believe it.

After the podium ceremony, the team threw an afterparty, and the champagne continued to flow. Amala stuck close to Lewis, the two of them laughing and joking as the night went on. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but the bubbly made her cheeks flush and her inhibitions loosen.

“You’re a lightweight,” Lewis teased as they sat in a quieter corner of the party.

“Am not,” she argued, though her giggle betrayed her.

Lewis leaned closer, his voice softer now. “I’m serious, though. You were incredible today. You’re even allowed to get that drunk today. I won’t tell anybody.”

Amala looked down at her glass, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, thanks. I feel even more incredible being by your side, you know? No one else in the grid has this privilege, and I do… So… Yes. You are even more incredible.”

Lewis let out a soft chuckle, recognizing his teammate is a bit more tipsy than he thought. She rested her head on his shoulder, taking a breath within the silence.

“Nah… I’m just the man of age.” he kept the funny tone as he reached over, his hand brushing hers and a kiss to her head. “You are incredible by your own merits, but we can talk about it when you’re sober.”

She looked up at him, her heart racing. “Thanks, Lew. For everything.”

He smiled, his hand lingering for just a moment longer. “You don’t have to thank me. I like looking out for you.”

The words hung in the air between them, charged with something unspoken. Amala felt her breath catch as she looked into his eyes, and before she could think, she leaned in.

It started soft, almost hesitant — like they were both testing the waters, caught in the gravity of something neither of them could pull away from. Amala felt the warmth of Lewis' hand cupping her jaw, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin, as if reassuring her this was real. She melted into it, her fingers curling into the fabric of his surely expensive shirt, anchoring herself as the world around them faded away.

But then, something shifted. The hesitation dissolved, replaced by something deeper, something neither of them could hold back. Lewis tilted his head, pulling her closer, and the kiss deepened — slow, lingering, like they were learning each other in a way they hadn’t before. His lips were warm, coaxing, stealing the breath from her lungs as her heart pounded against her ribs.

When they finally broke apart, neither of them moved far. Lewis' forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling in the space between them. His eyes fluttered open, dark and searching, like he was still caught somewhere between reality and the weight of the moment.

“We should…” he started, his voice rough, a little unsteady.

But neither of them moved. Neither of them let go. “Yeah,” Amala agreed, though she didn’t move.

He chuckled softly. “You’ve had a bit to drink. Let’s… talk about this tomorrow, yeah?”

Her cheeks burned, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“Good,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Because I really don’t want to mess this up.”

005. “I’m taking credit for that.”

The Ferrari garage was alive with the usual buzz of preparation, the sound of drills, chatter, and engineers poring over data. Amala, for once, wasn’t hovering over her own station, overthinking setups or tire strategies. She was at the central computer station, scrolling through the playlist for the garage speakers. She’d recently learned that Lewis shared her love for Kendrick Lamar, and she was determined to pick the perfect track.

"Don’t mess this up, rookie," came his familiar, teasing voice behind her.

She turned to see Lewis strolling up, hands in his fireproofs, looking far too smug.

“Don’t worry, old man.” she shot back, trying to play it cool. “I got this.”

As she selected “HUMBLE.”, the bass-heavy opening beat dropped, and the crew collectively nodded in approval. Even Ricky, Lewis’s race engineer, gave her a thumbs-up from across the garage.

Lewis leaned over her shoulder, arms resting lightly on her back as he peeked at the screen. “Solid choice,” he murmured, his voice low near her ear.

Amala stiffened for half a second, caught off guard by the sudden closeness, but when he chuckled and gave her shoulders a playful squeeze, the tension dissolved.

“You’re way too proud of yourself,” she said, shaking her head.

He grinned. “Hey, if you’re finally loosening up in the garage, I’m taking credit for that.”

As the song played on, the crew got into the rhythm, and Ricky even started rapping along to the chorus, earning a collective laugh. Amala found herself laughing too — really laughing — as Lewis joined in, half-singing, half-mocking Ricky’s performance.

“Okay, okay, stop,” she said, holding her sides from laughing too hard. “This is a disaster.”

“Disaster?” Lewis said, pretending to be offended. “This is team bonding, Amala. You should appreciate it.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “Sure, Lew. Whatever you say.”

He nudged her again, a playful glint in his eyes. “There it is… You know I love it when you smile like that.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she turned back to the screen, pretending to scroll through more songs. “Thanks… I guess.”

As casual as the moment seemed, the warmth in his voice lingered, and for the first time in weeks, the garage felt like a place she truly belonged.

006. “It’s just me.”

The days go on fast, and this time, it all happened so fast. One moment, Amala was pushing the limits in FP2, trying to get more out of the car ahead of qualifying, and the next, she was careening into the barriers. The impact rattled her, her heart pounding as the car came to a halt.

The radio crackled to life. “Amala, are you okay? Talk to us.”

“I’m… I’m fine,” she managed, though her voice was shaky.

Back in the garage, Lewis’s face tightened as he watched the replay on the monitors. He didn’t hesitate, heading straight for the trackside to check on her.

When he reached her car, she was still sitting inside, her hands gripping the steering wheel. He crouched beside the cockpit, his helmet already off, and tapped gently on the side. “Hey, sweetie,” he said softly. “It’s just me.”

Amala looked at him, her eyes wide and glassy. “I… I messed up.”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “You pushed. That’s what we do. Now let’s get you out of here.”

He helped her with her helmet and balaclava, his touch gentle but steady. “Take your time,” he said, fingers brushing the hair strands out of her sweaty face.

It hit like a tidal wave, it’s her first big crash in a Formula One car, and it wasn’t even a big one. Maybe it is just the scare.  “I’m so sorry, Lewis. I didn’t mean—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his tone firm but kind. “Don’t do that. This isn’t on you. The team’s already working on the car, and you’ll be back out there before you know it.” he offered a hand, witch she took in no time.

“But what if—”

“Amala,” he said, cutting her off again. His hands rested on her shoulders, grounding her as soon as she stood. “Look at me. You’re fine. The car will be fine. And tomorrow, you’ll remind everyone why you’re here. Got it?”

She nodded, though her eyes still shimmered with unshed tears.

Just then, someone from the team called out, “Its controlled, you guys. No big damage!”

Lewis smirked, glancing over his shoulder. “See? Told you.”

Her lips twitched into a small smile, and for a brief moment, the chaos around them faded.

As they walked back to the garage, their shoulders brushed, and there was a fleeting moment where their hands almost — almost — met. But neither of them crossed the line, not here, not now.

007. “I’m so proud of you”

It was a matter of time; everyone knew. A bond so strong could only lead the way to the trophy. Both of them.

The FIA Gala was every bit as glamorous as Amala had imagined. She stood at the entrance in a sleek black dress, feeling slightly out of place among the glitz and glamor. But when Lewis appeared at her side, offering his arm, all her nerves melted away.

“You look stunning.” he said, his eyes scanning her with an approving smile.

She laughed softly. “Had to keep up with you..”

Together, they made their way into the ballroom, their arrival causing a ripple of whispers and glances. It wasn’t exactly a secret that the Ferrari duo was close, but tonight, there was no hiding it. Lewis’s hand rested lightly on her back, guiding her through the crowd, and when they stopped to pose for photos, he held her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When it came time to accept their trophies, Amala followed Lewis up the steps, the bright lights of the gala stage shining down on them. The applause was deafening, a mix of cheers from the crowd and the proud faces of their team members watching from below. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest — not in a heavy way, but in a way that made her breath hitch, like she was finally standing inside one of her own dreams.

Lewis was the first to be handed his trophy, the gold gleaming in his hands as he lifted it effortlessly, a wide grin stretched across his face. He turned to her as she was handed her own, and for a second, they just stood there, side by side, both of them holding their awards for securing the Constructors’ Championship — both of them knowing exactly what it took to get here.

Amala glanced up at him, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of it all, and Lewis met her gaze with that knowing, almost teasing smile, like he had seen this moment coming all along. Without thinking, she laughed — giddy, overwhelmed, so unbelievably happy. And then, before she could talk herself out of it, she stepped into his space.

Lewis barely hesitated. He wrapped her up in a hug just like he had on every podium throughout the whole year — tight, warm, lifting her slightly off the ground as he swayed them both side to side. The crowd loved it, the cameras flashed, but Amala didn’t care. She buried her face into his shoulder for just a second, soaking it all in.

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmured, just for her.

She closed her eyes, gripping the trophy in one hand and holding onto him with the other. “Right back at you.”

When they finally pulled back, Lewis slung an arm around her shoulders, still grinning. “Alright, champ. Let’s celebrate.”

And as the cheers grew louder, as the night stretched on, Amala let herself believe — fully, completely — that this was just the beginning.

As they stepped off the stage, she turned to him, her voice barely audible over the applause. “We did it.”

He smiled, leaning closer. “No, you did it. This is just the beginning for you, Amala.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and when they returned to their table, she found herself lacing her fingers through his under the tablecloth.

The night ended with them sitting on the balcony, away from the noise of the party. The city lights stretched out before them, and Lewis turned to her, his expression soft. “You know,” he said, “I’ve had a lot of teammates over the years. But none of them… none of them have made me feel the way you do.”

Amala’s breath caught, her fingers tightening around his. “I’ve been on Twitter and I’ve read something about Brocedes so-”

“Don’t.” he laughed, playfully shaking her before leaning in just enough that their foreheads touched. “I mean it. You’re special, Amala. And I’m so damn proud of you.”

She closed her eyes, letting his words sink in. “I’m proud of you too. For everything.”

When their lips met this time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing — 0just the quiet certainty that this was exactly where they were meant to be.

↳ requests are open!⠀⠀↳ check my AO3!⠀⠀↳ main content's table

[adventuringblind]

Hello darling🫶🏼 I hope everything is okay🥹 I love the way you write, it’s sooo feel so real!

I have a request Lando x fem!reader, were she is Italian and she’s working for another team. So they live this relationship for so long distant, and she can’t go at every race as a McLaren supporter, but , and that’s situation make the things between them very difficult. So at some point, when everything looks like an end, he decide to ask her to live with him in Monaco.

Idk I feel this a little bit angst but happy in the end.🥺🥺

Thanks for all of your works, are amazing😍

Monaco Bound

Lando Norris x Ferrari Reader

Genre: angst to fluff

Summary: Lando is lonely, and Refer thinks he doesn't want her around. Turns out Lando just doesn't know how to ask. Featuring Max being blunt and the Ferrari boys trying to be emotional support.

Warnings: miscommunication, Lando is anxious, reader is so confused

Notes: Just so you are all aware, I am getting to requests! I've been working on the series more, as well as my works on AO3. Sorry it's taking so long, everyone!

Masterlist

Everyone says long distance is difficult. And when your partner needs physical contact and quality time, they really aren't joking.

Her and Lando had been making long-distance work for the last year and a half. Her living in Italy for work and Lando living in Monaco. Sure, they see each other in at races, but working for different teams really doesn't help anything.

Hope came in the form of teleworking. Finally, they'd managed to make it so she could do work from home, working remotely from the factory.

Did she tell Lando? Yes. Was she hoping to move to Monaco with him? Also, yes. But she also didn't want to just straight up ask him. That could make him uncomfortable, and then it would be awkward. Instead, she leaves it alone. Patiently waiting for Lando to maybe ask her.

On the other side of things, Lando could not decide whether his girlfriend simply isn't into him anymore, he had done something wrong, or she's just shy. He wants her to come live with him. To the point where he has broken down over in when he's alone in bed at night.

The next race weekend, he caught her talking with Charles and Carlos. Knawing insecurities creeping their way up his throat. He avoided all three for the rest of the day.

No phone calls were answered. No texts responded to. Always going to opposite direction. Was he being petty? Possibly, but he needed to think this through.

That night, he's shocked when Max comes knocking at his door. Lando opens the door and greets his friend cheerfully. Max though, looks solem.

"Wanna talk about why your girlfriend is acting like she's killed you?"

Lando's face dropped. "What?"

Max shoves past him and takes a seat in one of the chairs at the small table. "Carlos and Charles are worried also. They tried consoling her, but she's hysterical mate. Thinks you don't love her or something."

Again, Lando's face drops. She thinks he doesn't love her? She believes she did something wrong? He's misread this situation entirely.

"I- I thought that - that she was falling out of love." He admits. His face turns away from Max to the floor.

"She was raving to Carlos and Charles that she's finally able to work from home and wants to live in Monaco with you, but you hadn't asked."

"Why didn't she ask to live with me?"

"Maybe she didn't want to seem rude?"

And suddenly Lando is running out the door. Sprinting to his car to get to the hotel he knows she's staying at. With the room number she'd given late last night when she arrived.

It's a blur, really, the trip from point A to point B. He doesn't come back to reality until he's staring at her door. He can hear the muffled sobs on the other side.

He knocks. She opens. They collapse into each other.

"I thought you didn't want to come live with me."

"You idiot. Of course I want to live with you! I love you!"

"I'm your idiot."

Does she move to Monaco? Yes. Is Lando like a koala bear clinging to her every second of the day? Absolutely.

But she wouldn't trade it for the world.

[mrs-stans]

Hollywood’s Top 25 Power Stylists 2025: The Red-Carpet Visionaries Behind Zoe Saldaña, Glen Powell, Charli XCX, Cynthia Erivo and Troye Sivan

They don’t wake up looking that way! The sartorial wizards who garbed this year’s chicest stars — like Sebastian Stan and Anna Sawai — emerge from behind the changing-room curtains and let us peek inside their bag of tricks.

BY PRODUCED AND EDITED BY CAROL MCCOLGIN

Red carpet styling can’t make a bad movie good, but it can make a good one hard to ignore. An attention-grabbing look can center a project in an elevated conversation that can drive box office, awards and, yes, clothing sales.

That’s because of stylists. Out of the hundreds of red carpet tastemakers working in Hollywood, the ones on this list — coincidentally THR’s 15th since debuting the franchise in 2011 — are selected based on several factors. Because this is The Hollywood Reporter, the star power of the clients the stylists work with, the aesthetics they present on the red carpet, and the influence they wield — note Law Roach and Zendaya getting the internet to obsess over every Challengers fit — are paramount.

As much as it looks glamorous, a stylist’s work is never done. Responsible for creating as many as a hundred impactful looks each awards season, they enjoy a schedule that is relentless year-round. Next up is the Met Gala, then come the major film festivals, Governors Awards, the Golden Globes, SAGs, multiple awards events and, of course, the Oscars. For all the whirlwind, they are paid on average anywhere from $700 to $1,500 (including couture tailoring and shipping expenses) per look, which is at minimum a three-day job, from procuring to fitting.

Of course, it’s beautiful work if you can get it, and it’s been an aspirational aspect of the dream factory since the red carpet was invented in 1922.

Michael Fisher

CLIENTS Sebastian Stan, John Mulaney, Bowen Yang, David Harbour

Sebastian Stan in Prada at the Golden Globes.

WHY HE MATTERS For the press tour of The Apprentice, Stan and Fisher steered clear of his onscreen persona’s power-shouldered suits in favor of such modern interpretations as shrunken Thom Browne and smartly tailored Prada suits and Dolce & Gabbana pinstripes. “Michael’s a movie buff. He watches the films and has a point of view. He’s conscious of who he’s working with: the person’s tastes, characteristics, what kind of actor they are. He’s sensitive to the themes being promoted,” says Stan of Fisher, with whom he first teamed in 2018.

TOP LOOK Fisher is partial to the contrasting piped black Prada mohair coat and trousers that the Different Man Golden Globe winner wore to the ceremony. “Custom looks are always stressful because you don’t really know how it will turn out or how your talent will feel once they try it on,” says Fisher, who has a history with the luxury Italian house. “Instinct told me that the final result would be perfect for the win.” Adds Stan: “There was something timeless and old Hollywood about it that I loved. … I also think I probably always love everything that’s in black. If it was up to me, I would always just be dressing in black.”

Photographed on Feb. 26 at the Sunset Marquis in West Hollywood. On Stan: Prada coat, sweater, tee, pants; Cartier watch, jewelry; Steve Madden shoes. On Fisher: Prada clothing; Cartier watch, jewelry. Groomer: KC Fee at Redefine Representation Artistic and Fashion Director Alison Edmond PHOTOGRAPHED BY NINO MUÑOZ

“I sought him out,” says Stan (right) of Fisher. “I really loved that at the time he was working with some of my favorite actors, like Michael Shannon, Ethan Hawke and Adam Driver. It seemed that everything on those guys was effortless and felt connected to who they were and their personalities.” Adds Fisher, “Sebastian’s passion, generosity and sense of adventure always make my job easy.”

[bekabloodhound]

Today my grandma Clara turns 100 years old, and so I wanted to share some of her story; specifically her love story with my papa, Dusty.

My grandparents grew up in small town Manitoba and were from different sides of the tracks (literally). They met at school and started going together, as my papa put it, when they were around 13 or 14. Dusty was good at hockey and moved out to the west coast of Canada at 16 to play for a bigger and better team. He was well on his way to being drafted as an NHL defenceman when WWII broke out. Instead of continuing his hockey career however, shortly after he turned 19 he returned to Manitoba and enlisted in the Navy.

Before he shipped out, Dusty went to say goodbye to Clara. When he saw her walking down the street on the arm of an airman, he figured he'd missed his shot. [When I asked her about this, she said that there was an air base nearby and the girls needed someone to go dancing with.]

Dusty spent most of his wartime service working in the engine room of a ship that escorted other vessels across the North Atlantic, including protecting the Bay of Biscay during D-Day.

Not long after my grandfather enlisted, my grandma took the train for the first time, and rode 10 hours with her friend to a factory in northern Ontario. There they helped with the war efforts by riveting plane wings together, true Rosies of the North.

While on the ship, Dusty wrote a letter to Clara to get back in touch with her, shoot his shot one last time, and tell her how he felt. However, he was too scared about how she would receive it so it sat in his locker, unsent, until one day a buddy stole it from said locker and stuck it in the mail. Luckily for Dusty, Clara wrote back.

They continued their correspondence throughout the war until some time in 1945, when Dusty told Clara that the next time he had leave, he would come home to marry her. She said okay.

He got leave in June of 1945 and was true to his word. He came home for three weeks and married Clara. They spent their honeymoon at his uncle's farm where his cousin, a young teenaged girl, played the piano for them to dance to.

After his leave was up, Dusty returned to the east coast to serve as an engineer at the training base while his ship was refitted for service in the southern Pacific. Thankfully, by the time the ship was ready, the battle in the Pacific was over.

My grandparents ended up being married for just shy of 72 years before my papa passed at the age of 92. They were rarely apart, and while they bickered and needled each other, their love never waned. They set such an incredible example of caring and community, the impact is still being felt 5 generations down the line.

My grandma Clara is still one of the sharpest, most stylish, supportive, outgoing, inspiring and loving woman that I know. Hopefully you enjoyed getting to know her and my Papa a bit too.

[batsplat]

I know need to know what the fuck was the honda three rider team about. Bc that sounds made up as fuck

historical silly season: 2010 edition!

in early 2010, casey had very much had enough of ducati

rumours are that he'd already been looking to break his contract for the 2010 season after how ducati had handled the whole mystery illness 2009 saga... releasing inaccurate statements about his condition to the press without his consent, implying his diet was to blame - as well as offering jorge a shit ton of money to come ride for them. crucially more than they were paying casey

this was from mid 2009 and the vibes were already BAD back then... it's hard to know how seriously to take retirement rumours from the time given casey just wasn't. really... talking to the press, so a lot of the times the media was relying on other sources from inside his camp or just wildly speculating

anyway, casey did see out the 2010 season with ducati, but at the start of the year he essentially gave them an ultimatum - he wanted them to rip up his proposed contract and have them show him how much he was worth to them. they did not do so

according to casey, he already signed a contract at the second round of the season in jerez, which gives you a sense of how done he was with all things ducati - but it was only announced after the seventh round in july. the move was made smoother by casey's existing close relationship with livio suppo, who had himself recently made the switch from ducati to honda

very much the right time to make the move for sure. at the time, there was speculation that casey's poor results in the first half of the season was due to decreased motivation, which of course he strongly denied. really, it was the fault of the bike and team - and casey would show as much the following year at honda

one little problem. honda already had two factory contracted riders for 2011: dani and dovi. now, dani had been honda's wunderkind since forever, and after their last world champ nicky hayden - who was not on particularly warm terms with dani's camp, it has to be said - departed the team, dovi had been the chosen replacement. dovi was a long time honda loyalist, even when he was riding their underpowered bikes to championship runner up positions against jorge in 250cc, and he'd also had a highly impressive rookie season

2009 had not been a particularly great year for either factory honda rider, partly due to bike performance partly due to injuries partly due to... rider performance. it was a rough year for dovi in particular, despite his win in tricky conditions at donington (all four aliens deliver quite funny performances at that race in different ways. not exactly the finest of hours for any of them)

when casey's signing was announced, honda initially went 'okay three factory blokes but maybe we'll have two in the real team and then one in a fake team'

the problem, right, is that it costs a lot of money to field a three man team - this is why honda was so keen on the red bull option, because then they could pay for the seat

honda confirmed its intention to have four factory honda riders in 2011, those three and sic, in mid-september. but they still needed to figure out where to put them. they didn't manage to get the funds to put casey in a separate team, and then they tried to put dovi on the satellite squad:

now, dovi was on a 2+1 contract, with 2009-10 guaranteed and an option to extend for another year. the contract included a performance clause - and dovi was having a more successful 2010 season, so hrc was having some trouble forcing dovi to accept the move:

so yeah, obviously not exactly great behaviour to sign a third rider when your team is already essentially full... and then immediately spend the next few months trying to get rid of one of your existing riders who is still entitled to that seat

some more details:

for a while, dovi looked like he might be leaning towards accepting it, and was certainly keen to stress that he wasn't rejecting gresini due to his interpersonal issues with some of the team's personnel. this from september:

eventually, repsol agreed to fund the whole thing so that honda could honour their commitments to all three riders:

so, one team for all of them, if still a wee bit of healthy internal separation

and by november the whole thing was sorted

honda did have some internal precedent for this! in 1997, they fielded three factory riders: doohan, criville and okada

also back in the day they did just create shell teams organised around one rider, which is of course where valentino spent his first two years in the premier class

and here's the updated version from 2011!

anyway, it was only something honda was willing to do for one year, and in the end dovi decided to jump ship to yamaha rather than accept internal demotion. the fight for p3 in the championship went right down to the final race in valencia - and it must have been incredibly satisfying for dovi to snatch it from dani there

after this... look, basically they changed the rules to make it two entries at most per team, then they changed it back for like? two years? so that four riders were technically allowed. and then they changed their mind again. now it's just two - obviously teams are allowed wildcards, but they couldn't do this three man team thing anymore nowadays

teams generally wouldn't even want to do this because it's a lot of hassle and, most importantly, money. so yeah, unlikely to make a comeback. very much a quirky curio that won't be replicated... could be funny though. if they want to change the rules again

[generic-sonic-fan]

Team Dark Week: Control

Summary: Team Dark has an encounter with Sage. For @teamdarkweek.

1587 words, mild warning for Omega-typical gory threats

---

“Take it easy on Sage,” Sonic had said. “She’s a good kid. She just likes her dad too much.”

Shadow scoffed at the memory as he dodged the incoming lasers and the flurry of stingers. After the wasp Badniks completed their bombing run, they disappeared back behind the crest of a hill- a tactic much smarter than Shadow was used to seeing from them. The fizzle of red-black pixels in the air suggested the reason behind their improved cognition. 

Omega charged up the hill after them, swapping from his miniguns to his flamethrowers in anticipation of meeting them over the crest. Rouge flew ahead of him, bomb armed in her hand.

“Omega, back off!” She called out as she peeked over the ridgeline. 

Shadow huffed as, predictably, Omega did not listen. Just before he reached the top, a stampede of motobugs flooded towards him, knocking him over and carrying him along on their backs. 

Shadow skated after them. He blasted chaos spears into the pack, but he couldn’t thin their numbers fast enough to give Omega a chance to right himself. The static of red and black intensified in the air around him, making it more difficult for Shadow to aim his next spears. 

Suddenly, the crowd dissipated, and Shadow nearly collided with Omega as he fell down. After steadying himself, Shadow offered a hand to pull him upright, but the Ex-Badnik didn’t respond. 

“Omega?”

“Hey, what’s wrong? Where’d everybody go?” Rouge called out to him. 

Omega’s optics flickered. Once. Twice. The red-black particle effect still hung in the air. Shadow stepped back. 

Omega rose from the ground as if he’d just stepped off the Badnik production line. 

“Back off!” Shadow waved Rouge off.

Omega’s voice box let out a static shrill, before a different voice emerged from his frame. “Unnecessary.” 

Sage’s hologram emerged from Omega’s chest. 

Shadow’s blood boiled. 

“What you’ve done with this E-100 series unit is quite strange.” Sage stated, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. “Its processor is extremely disorganized. A factory reset may be necessary for it to regain its efficiency.”

“Let him go.” Shadow snarled. 

“You refer to this Badnik with he/him pronouns. Is this of its own determination?”

“Let him go!” 

“I shall update the database to reflect this.” 

Shadow glanced at Rouge, who nodded and took out her scanner. Wherever Sage was, the drone allowing her to project her hologram and exert her control this far away from the Eggnet couldn’t be far. But before she could get a reading, Sage snapped her attention to her. Omega’s arm raised from his side and reconfigured into his minigun. 

“Land immediately or I will fire.” Sage commanded. 

Rouge dropped to the ground, landing in a kneeling position beneath the tall grass.

“Well, well, what’s this? Some new trick of yours?” She stood with a smile. The scanner was nowhere to be seen. 

“Negative. I can exert control over all Robotnik hardware.” Sage replied. “You have seen me exhibit this ability numerous times. This should not surprise you.”

“Okay, let’s talk.” Rouge put her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do with Omega?”

“Unit E-123 Omega has been logged as missing in the database for three years. All units are instructed to destroy Unit E-123 Omega as long as doing so does not conflict with any other given orders.” With a flick of her hand, Sage made Omega put away his weapons. “Father did not elaborate beyond that when I inquired on the subject. I was unaware that Unit E-123 Omega made such frequent alliance with you and Shadow. I shall update the database to reflect this.”

“You’re not going to destroy him. I won't let you.” Shadow replied. 

“I only intend to capture Unit E-123 Omega. I will bring him back to father to be repaired.”

“Like hell you are!” 

“Phrasing not recognized. Are you expressing disbelief?”

“Listen, sweetheart. Here’s how this is going to go.” Rouge snapped. “You’re going to let Omega go, or I’m going to go pay your daddy a very unfortunate visit. You got that?”

“The only one who your visit will be unfortunate for is yourself. By forewarning your intent to sneak into his current base of residence, I am able to lock down all feasible methods of entry, including the ventilation system.” Sage floated closer. 

Omega’s frame shuddered. Sage flipped around and clenched her fist. More particles came off her. 

“His processor is in absolutely disarray. It is imperative that I bring him back to father to be repaired.” Her voice shook.

Omega’s frame went still again. His arms were raised from his sides, bearing his miniguns, with one pointed at each of them. 

“Please do not resist. I am sure you will see him again.” Sage said before disappearing.

Shadow spin-dashed into Omega’s frame. 

The impact knocked a swarm of red-black particles from his processor. At this, Omega’s optics regained their signature flare. He put away his miniguns and, with his own fist, he punched his head plating. 

“Where is she?” Shadow yelled to Rouge.

“I got her!” Rouge plucked the scanner from where she’d hidden it and took off in the direction of a line of trees. 

Omega’s next swing at his own head was stopped just inches away from his plating. He charged Shadow with claws extended. With a whispered “chaos control”, Shadow disappeared and delivered a kick to the back of Omega’s head. 

Another shudder. It was working.

“You are damaging Unit E-123’s processor with your attacks. Cease your hostile actions immediately to prevent further damage.” Sage said through his vocalizer. 

“Let him go!”

Shadow launched a bolt of chaos energy into Omega’s back before Sage could turn him around. The explosion knocked him forwards and he slid across the grass, which wedged stalks into every crevice of his plating. For a moment, Shadow pictured his spread of parts littered throughout the grass, rusted and forgotten. He screamed in rage. 

“It is clear this is causing you distress. Why do you continue?” Sage asked.

Shadow ran towards Omega as he tried to stand and slammed him back against the ground. 

“Stop. Stop!” Sage cried. “You are acting illogically. He is your ally, yet you are destroying him. Explain why you are acting this way!”

“Ask him, if you care!” Shadow replied, before charging another chaos spear in his palm.

“Very well.”

Omega went still. Shadow dissipated his spear. Sage’s hologram appeared once more, this time sitting on top of Omega’s back.

“He is refusing to answer my queries.”

“Then let me ask him!”

With a gesture from her hand, Omega’s voice box crackled online. 

“-WILL TEAR YOUR MAINFRAME TO PIECES AND INFECT IT WITH ORGANIC WASTE MATERIAL!” Omega screamed. “I WILL LOAD YOU INTO A KITCHEN BOT AND FORCE YOU TO WATCH AS I FEED EGGMAN HIS OWN ENTRAILS!”

“Omega, tell Sage why-.”

“I WILL SOONER DEACTIVATE THAN BECOME EGGMAN’S SLAVE!”

“You would not be a slave.” Sage replied. “Because of your advanced stage of sentience, I would advocate for-”

“You won’t be able to convince him otherwise, so let him go or I’ll be forced to destroy him.” Shadow hissed. 

“It is unfortunate that you both believe that.” Sage made a silencing motion with her hand before Omega could speak another syllable. “Shadow, I would like the opportunity to show you and him that nothing of the sort would happen.”

“Let. Him. Go.” 

“I will defend him from you. He is evidently a long lost brother of mine, and while you are also family, I will not let you destroy him. That is my warning.”

Shadow summoned a chaos spear from the burning in his chest. Its energy buffeted his quills.

“Do not-”

Sage’s hologram flickered out of existence. A cloud of red-black particles spilled from Omega’s frame, dissipating up into the sky. Shadow stepped back, though kept his aim steady.

“DO NOT FIRE.” Omega said, his voice quieter, but otherwise free from static or any other deviation. “HER CONNECTION HAS TERMINATED.”

Shadow shot the bolt into the sky, and its flash blinded them both until it dissipated. 

Rouge came flying from the trees. In her hands she held what remained from Sage’s projector drone. “Come on, boys! Let’s go before she comes back!”

Shadow pulled Omega to his feet and pushed the Ex-Badnik ahead of him. His rocket boosters shuddered, before roaring to life, and Shadow followed. Rouge led the way, although they were not following the path back to base- soon the landscape changed to orange hills and green palm trees. 

Rouge had landed and knocked on the door to the workshop before Shadow and Omega pulled alongside her. Tails opened the door with his welding mask still on his face.

“Oh, hey! Why the- oh.” He went quiet when he saw Omega. “Come on in.”

Omega pushed Rouge aside and stomped over to Tails’ computer. He found a data cable from the nearby tangle of wires and plugged himself in. He stared at Tails.

“Is he. . . feeling okay?” Tails asked Rouge.

“He needs a security update. Now.” Shadow replied. 

“Oh, hey! Didn’t see you guys come in.”

Shadow turned around to see Sonic standing in the door frame. 

“Wow, Omega, you look a little ‘grassy’, if you catch my drift.” Sonic strolled further into the workshop. 

“Take it easy on Sage. She’s a good kid.”

Shadow ignited his skates, grabbed Sonic by the arm, and slammed him against the ground before throwing him against a palm tree outside. 

[bikefuckersoftheworldunite]

Wayne Rainey’s interview with Cycle News, 1997

When I'm watching a race, or when I'm watching qualifying, and I'll see a look on a rider's face, I'm analyzing a situation to what I think it is. I'll watch a corner and I'll say, "That guy's off-line there. Did you see that?" I'll see that stuff. It's all so clear to me how it needs to be done. But most of the people that I have to be around don't see what I see. So sometimes it's frustrating to me that I can't be out there doing it and sometimes I'm pulling that in because, it's just like if you just did it like this the people, riders can't comprehend or understand that. There's a lot to this analyzing that would take all day. It's just that I'm different, I guess.

This is the truth.

This is Wayne Rainey's life the past few years in his own words, what he's been through, how he's coping. Being in a wheelchair hasn't slowed him down as much as it should have. He still puts in 17-hour days and most of those hours are devoted to racing. Making his team better, making his riders better, making himself better. It isn't easy being Wayne Rainey, it never was, it never will be. He possesses that defect in his personality known as perfectionism. It must be viewed as a defect only because he lives in an imper- fect world that he can no longer control as he did when he was winning three 500cc World Championships in a row, and nearly four. "Riding for me is both a blessing and curse," he believes, and he means it. He asks of others what he asked of himself and cannot understand why you would want to give less. "He's the most amazing person I've ever met," says his team manager and good friend Tim O'Sullivan, whose previous vocation involved dealing on a regular basis with brain surgeons. No one ever beat Wayne Rainey by outworking him and they never will.

Every year brings a new challenge. First it was winning championships as a rider. Next it was winning championships as a team owner. He started slowly, but soon found himself in a very high-stakes rivalry with Kenny Roberts, a friend he considers a brother. Now that Roberts has moved on to his own project, Rainey is the standard- bearer for Yamaha and his job is to restore the factory to the glory that he afforded it as a rider. It won't be easy. But for Wayne Rainey, it never is.

Let's start with Marlboro. What happened to the sponsorship?

There's a few different stories I've heard from each different guy, three different Marlboro guys. But the one I think I have to rely on is that there was a budget cut, because that was the most senior guy that told me that. That came on the 20th of January. The 20th was a Mon- day. They said there was a budget cut on Friday.

And they called you up and said...

No, I was just making my weekly call. I usually make one on Monday, one on Wednesday, and one on Friday. And that was my Monday call. And it was like 6 o'clock their time in the evening. I guess they weren't even going to tell me that day either.

When they called, did they tell you at the time that it was a budget thing?

The guy who told me didn't know why. He was just told that there's nothing there for you. And so I called the higherups and asked what happened. They said, "Well, we had a budget cut." "You guys just recently had one?" "Yeah, we're sorry." So I didn't have much time to think about it. I had a team to put together so I was on an airplane the next day to Japan.

What did Yamaha say?

They, officially, I don't think have ever been told by Marlboro that there's been a separation. They were pretty upset about it because I had told them all along that Norick (Abe) looks good and there was never any question about that. That budget for Norick always came from (Phillip Morris) Lausanne (Switzerland). Because that was my (Tetsuya) Harada budget that was there the year before and that budget didn't change, the numbers on that. The only thing that we were trying to put togeth- er was the second rider. And I believe that what Marlboro was trying to do was get the second-rider program sorted out. Kenny (Roberts) and I just didn't know all the way through if we were going to have sponsorship. We were talking weekly too. So they started throwing (Jean-Michel) Bayle's name around with me and a proposal with Bayle at the beginning of January. I didn't like that so much because I thought that was Kenny's only leverage he had to keep his sponsorship. So I refused to speak to Bayle about it. When they made the decision, Kenny didn't know either if he was going to have it or not. I think Yamaha coming on board just shows that they're serious about Grand Prix racing. It was a big push on their part to keep the team going and just get on with it.

Was there any chance that they could have just said, 'No, we can't afford it."

They could have very easily, I think, if they would have had some more teams to choose from. We had never ever geared up for NO from Marlboro. We just kept planning like the Marlboro thing was going to happen. And when it didn't happen they were pretty much in a corner. It was either do it or we have to stay home. Within 15 minutes of me being there they did it.

When did you decide on the second rider?

About half an hour after that meeting. I had told them, being so late, we need a second rider. And they weren't really gung-ho on a second rider. And then I told them the problem that I've been having for the last couple of years is having one rider and not having a back- up for the riders to have some kind of rivalry in the team to push each other. And I said the only guy I'd really want to put in there would be Sete (Gibernau) because of the job he did for us on the 250, and he's a good-size kid and he speaks very good English and we'll bring him on to test. They agreed with that philosophy and so far it works well.

Did your money last year come from Marlboro Italy?

Loris's (Capirossi) money did, not Harada's. Harada's came from Lausanne, which was (Norick) Abe's budget.

What do you think the team has to offer to Marlboro?

The Yamaha factory effort. Abe, myself. It's a good image.

What is it they get by sponsoring you? Do they want to win races or do they want to sell cigarettes?

I don't know. I think when I raced for them they wanted to be on TV. Okay, after my accident they haven't been on TV much and I think that's the philoso- phy behind Phillip Morris, they want to be racing for the top three and that's what we were hoping to do with Abe this year is to get him up on the podium because this is his third year. Abe's a young kid, he's flashy, he's fun to watch, he's exciting. If you look at Mick Doohan, he's not real exciting, but he wins. But you can pretty much write down what he's going to say each time and with these young guys coming up it's exciting and it's a good image for Marlboro to get in behind. You've got the factory effort and you've got my experience and you have these young guys. I think there was quite a lot to offer. I don't know what else you can offer.

Maybe someone who speaks English?

(Abe) does speak English. In Malaysia we did a Marlboro press conference and he spoke English there. I told him if you're going to do this thing, if you want to have a better chance for your career, you have to speak English. He did it. He was nervous. When I asked him, his first comments were in Japanese, then he changed them to English. He's making an effort at it.

There was also a story that Marlboro came back to you at some point.

Well, it wasn't Lausanne, it wasn't Switzerland that came back. They've always been in charge of sponsorship, they've always been the center of the world. It's getting a bit tougher for the Europeans now. The Asian people came back, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Japan. They still wanted to keep the relationship with Yamaha and myself and Norick. So we did a deal with them.

But it wasn't for full sponsorship for this year. Lausanne didn't want to sponsor the whole team for this year and next?

I don't know where Lausanne stood on the whole thing. All I know is that I said no to them because they came to us two weeks before the first race. They made a decision January 20th and I haven't looked back. I've gotten trucks painted, everything's done.

What did they offer you two weeks before the first race?

It was the Asian group that came to us. And they said, 'Hey, we want you.' You guys were involved in the decision.

They were?

That's what I thought. They didn't know about it. Not at all. They still want to keep that going. They're enthusiastic, they want me to work on their Indone- sian program. Right now they like what they're hearing and they like what we're doing.

So that's why they're sponsoring you in Indonesia and Malaysia.

Right.

Any reason why they're not here (at Suzuka)?

Japan is its own market. There's a European branch that does worldwide sponsorship. And so then Malaysia and Indonesia are out of Hong Kong and they wanted that relationship. They didn't say no, they wanted it. And Japan is its own market. It's not part of anything else. It's like a third party.

Let's go back to last year. When the year started it was full of promise. You spent the winter with Loris Capirossi. It didn't work out as well as everyone had hoped. What went wrong?

I think there was a variety of things. One, Loris, he was World Champion in his first two years. He went from being a working man every day to being World Champion status and he missed a few years of labor, what the real world's really like, and the team catered to him before and pretty much took care of everything. Coming to my team, being with me, I was used to doing my own program. I trained my way, I developed a certain way, and it made me really strong. And when he came to my team it all worked really good, he understood the whole thing. But then he had a few accidents. I think he fell off nine times and some weren't his fault, some were. I think when he went home the star status wasn't as strong as it used to be and he started lashing out. I wasn't used to that. I was used to bearing down and reaching inside myself to find a little extra to pull out, but one thing that I've learned since my accident is that I did it my way and nobody else does and I see why I was successful. Most of these young guys come up, they get paid a lot of money and they don't want to work at it. And he had to reach inside to go find out what was wrong, and that's something I'm not going to push. I want a guy that's going to come to the team and wants to work at it. And that's what I've got with my two riders now - I feel that they're working hard. I think Loris just...he was worried about his career. Second or third year not thinking that he was going to be as sought out after as he was before. The beginning of the year was great, everything was on a roll. We had some good results. But in the end you could just see the fire going down. I wasn't used to that. I didn't really know how to respond to that because me being a racer was always wide open or nothing. It was completely different for me to do this.

He wasn't happy with the way the team was run?

I don't know if it was so much the way it was run as what he felt he needed out of the team as far as bike setup. He didn't really lash out at me so much. Every time I was hearing rumors about him being unhappy, he'd say, 'No Wayne, everything is fine.' But he was afraid to confront me, I guess. And then we'd read in the press, especially after he left, that the team didn't do what he wanted. It's hard to get the team to do what you want if you don't tell the guy who can make the changes. So, he wasn't honest with me at all.

What did he want? Anything specific?

All I know is that he wasn't happy with his mechanics. I went over each guy and he said, 'No problem, no problem.' I didn't know at that time that he'd already made a decision to leave. This was a couple of races towards the end of the year. I'd seen that there was a change and I was trying to get out of him what he needed. He had a deal with Aprilia that was a certain amount of money for three years and he wanted to go back to doing it his way, I guess.

Would you do anything differently?

No.

How about with Tetsuya Harada?

With Harada I could sense the frustration in him because of the tire problem. Yamaha didn't push that 250 thing real hard and I saw that. I could understand that, but I didn't understand some of the things he was doing on the race track by just riding around. I've been in those situations and I pushed hard, no matter how bad it was. And there were times that I rode my stuff that it was just impossible. But that's me. I can't expect that out of everybody. Especially the results that I had, from the outside they probably look like Wayne's thing was pretty good most of the time. But a lot of the times on Sunday morning, man, I had to suck it up and go after it.

Do you think that since Harada wasn't in the championship he wasn't willing to try as hard?

I was explaining to Harada, we could have a tire advantage and we could really make Max (Biaggi) upset if we keep pushing that advantage. I said, 'Hey, we're on a tire nobody else has.' But, again, I was thinking that was an ideal situation. I was trying to sell it to him and it worked, it worked for a while. In Indonesia, we won. He just flat out out- rode them. Here (at Suzuka), the Michelin should have been terrible here. He was pole position and he was a second behind and in three corners he caught right up, but Max sucked him in there and he fell off. And as soon as he fell off and he hurt himself a little bit, he was just like, some of the stuff that he was telling me is that "Wayne, I've already been World Champion. I don't need to go out there and prove myself anymore." And I said: "Yeah, you do, you do. When you're World Champion you've got to keep proving to everybody that you're World Champion no matter what situation you're in. If it's bad, you've got to do the best you can. But if you're going to ride around in 18th, I'm not used to that." I said, "All you're doing is hurting your career riding around in 18th."

But the tire choice was a bit controversial. You tested at Shah Alam, back to back, the Dunlops and the Michelins. They tested Dunlop in November and in December they tested Michelin. I wasn't there for that test. He was sold on it. Isn't that a track that favors Michelins over Dunlops, generally?

Probably. It's temperature. But 250s aren't hard on tires. It's more of a profile thing. Dunlop has always been quicker than Michelin in the 250 class, even in Malaysia. So, after the Malaysian test he liked the way the bike turned and he thought that there was a lot of promise there.

And he made the choice?

He didn't have the choice. Yamaha was pushing hard for Michelin. And Marlboro and Yamaha were tired of hearing about tire problems. Put the same tire on as everybody else, and to make everything smooth we went with the 250 tire. But Harada wasn't happy with it, honestly wasn't happy with it. But again, he could have been. The philosophy was working for a while until it threw him off. Then he wasn't willing to work anymore.

What was the final straw that caused him to leave the team?

He never said, "I'm leaving." I said: "Hey, Tetsuya you're riding around. I bring all these guys here and we need you to put the effort in." And he just couldn't do it. And I just said, "Hey, it's okay. Why don't you just stay home and I'll put somebody else on the bike. I know you're not going to push." I said "You've worked hard to get where you're at and we'll put somebody else on it." I think he was quite happy with that.

You knew at Barcelona that he wouldn't be back.

We had Sete (Gibernau) testing at Czecho. His (Harada's) last race was Imola. With Tetsuya there was no effort left. I had to fulfill the contract, but I didn't want a guy out there riding around. Especially when we had done some tests and I was talking to him and I could see that he just gave up and it just wasn't worth it to me to watch all that. I needed to give somebody a chance that was willing to ride it and do the best they could and Sete was the guy.

So the season ends, and you start thinking about this year. When did you make your rider choices?

Abe was always there. Everybody knew that, Marlboro, Yamaha, myself, Kenny knew that, that Abe was coming two, three races from the end of the year. We won the last race, but I knew something was up because Loris was just so distant there. He tested the '97 bike on Monday and I could just tell he maybe needed a break. He just wasn't the same kid; he was real distant. Then I got a fax saying he left the team. That kind of surprised me because Loris and I were pretty good friends and we'd worked good together. He and I never had a problem, but then he left. I had Abe and we were just wondering who the second rider was.

Who else did you talk to?

At that stage, the first people Marlboro had me talking to was Max (Biaggi). But I kind of got in the same position with Marlboro with Max as I did with Mick (Doohan) and Marlboro. With Mick, Kenny had a contract (with Marlboro in 1995). So I was talking to Mick, and Marlboro said we need a letter of intent so I got that. I was talking to Mick in '95 and Kenny had a contract with Marl- boro in '96 already done. It was already done. That's why I chased Mick because I wasn't taking nothing away from Kenny. And Marlboro said you need a letter of intent from Mick because he's done this a lot to us before. I'm thinking, well, that's news to me. So I got a letter of intent signed, everything was done. I did everything that Marlboro had asked.

Then Marlboro went to Kenny at the very next race and said, "You need Mick Doohan." After they had already seen everything that I had done. They knew that I had him. So that's when they were going to give me Loris. And Mick stayed at Honda because it got real cloudy after that and I just said, "Hey I don't want no part of that." It was kind of like what happened with Max. They said talk to Max. And Max was going: "You know Wayne, I hear you talking to me and stuff and Marlboro, they're also telling me to go race a 250. I'd like to ride a 500 but they want to keep me in 250." They had talked for a month. I felt like they were doing the same thing to me with Max. They'd say, talk to Max. As soon as you hang up the phone, they'd say, "No, no, you're going to ride a 250." So I said, "Well, what do you want me to talk to Max for?" That was the thing that was going on that just didn't make sense. And they said Max is not an option, talk to Luca (Cadalora). So at the end of November, beginning of December I was talking to Luca. Through this, Marlboro comes up and Luca wanted a lot of money to ride for Marlboro. He figured that there was a lot of money there for him, but there wasn't. I tried to tell him that.

You were always critical of Luca, both as a teammate and afterward. How could you hire him?

Well, I was talking to him and I was telling him why I was critical, which was pulling in when things weren't right. Or Luca, "What's it going to take for you to beat Mick Doohan?" With Luca, I don't hide that fact at all. I wasn't real high on Luca. I was really excited about Abe. But if it helped to sell sponsorship maybe I could work with Luca. This was all going to be up front with Luca and the stuff I was talking to him about, he knew I was critical of that stuff. I'm not afraid to tell people. The thing is, that I'm a racer still, I can't race no more. When I go to a race track I'm there to race. And I let everybody around me know that we're not here to make money and say hi to the crowd, we're here to win and everyone's got to do their job. And maybe that's where I'm different than other people. Maybe I push hard and stuff, but I don't think I push that hard. But looking back on what I did and how I pushed and how I got the team to do it a certain way, maybe it's a little bit hard on these guys. I don't know.

So how do you change that?

By example I guess. When I fell off at Donington, I had a concussion. I figured out a way to race the race and make something happen. But most people aren't like that. Most people are going to go out there and race and go, "Well, if I get a good start maybe somebody will make a mistake and I'll take advantage of it." That's just the way I thought about racing. It consumed me and there was never any compromise.

But you can't teach that, can you?

No you can't, you can't. It's hard. It's different now. I was never satisfied. I see a lot of young guys coming up and their salaries have to be there. For me to get motivated by money, I don't need it. I enjoy coming to the race track and I enjoy trying to help the riders and com- ing up with possible scenarios that could happen in the race and seeing it pan out. I was just talking to Ralf Waldmann yesterday and he was talking about his hand and stuff. I said, "Hey, Max can make a mistake this year," and he made one the very next day. That's the way you've got to think. With some people you get done talking to them and they say, "What's that Rainey talking about?" I don't know. I just look at it a lot different than everybody, I guess. I've had to tone down some things, and some things I'm not willing to.

Like what?

When I'm watching a race, or when I'm watching qualifying, and I'll see a look on a rider's face, I'm analyzing a situation to what I think it is. I'll watch a corner and I'll say, "That guy's off-line there. Did you see that?" I'll see that stuff. It's all so clear to me how it needs to be done. But most of the people that I have to be around don't see what I see. So sometimes it's frustrating to me that I can't be out there doing it and sometimes I'm pulling that in because, it's just like if you just did it like this the people, riders can't comprehend or understand that. There's a lot to this analyzing that would take all day. It's just that I'm different, I guess.

Can you accept what you have to accept? And for how long?

Yes and no. I accept the way I am now as far as what my life is because this is the way it is and I can accept that. But there are some things that happened in my life that I'll never accept. Some of it's personal and some of it is right here in front of me. Some of it's complicated, some of it's black and white. Sometimes I got to the race track... For instance I was in Phillip Island this year and I got very emotional because I just miss being out there on a motorcycle. I didn't miss the pressure of racing for a championship, that I'm over. But I do miss the physical thrill of riding a 500. I was watching Mick (Doohan) and I thought, "I know exactly what he's doing out there." It was nice to be able to watch Mick and relive that moment again. It was tough to sit in a wheelchair and watch it for sure.

But there are other times when you don't want to be out there.

Yeah, I have to be very, very patient right now, much more than I ever was when I rode because live got to realize that I raced for 28 years, or whatever it was, and how I did it, I was successful doing it all the way until the very end. I've got young guys now that if I tell them to change their line two inches, they're going, "How do you change two inches, Wayne?" I think, yeah, well, that's true. They wouldn't understand two inches because they're riding within 12 inches. I was so precise in what I needed that sometimes I showed up at a race track and I couldn't use the line I wanted until Sunday morning because the track wasn't clean enough yet. And that line I wanted to get to wasn't there until I kept chipping away at it for two days. Most people don't understand that, but that's how I thought about it.

And you haven't been able to find anybody that will go about it the same way?

I thought with Loris I got a guy that's wanting to do it and I was showing him some training stuff and I thought, "Wow, this is great." But, then reality set in and it really came time and he had to dig in on his own without me, it just wasn't there for him. That hurt me a bit because I was kind of trying to live through Loris a bit, and I did for a while. But when it stopped happening it was a real reality check for me that I have to be more patient. It wasn't like I was out there screaming and yelling. I was just like, "You should try that, you should try this." When it came down to it he just didn't understand and most people don't.

There are times that you're not even 100 percent sure that the way you did it was the right way. You didn't know when to back off.

That's true. You can get riders and most guys to a certain level pretty quick. You can show them the basics and they'll excel. But to really go past what I can feel or say they have to be willing to go out and search for it themselves. That's something you can't teach and that's desire. And that was my strong point. Not having it good all the time and trying to make something happen. But when I lined up to go out to race or out to qualifying I knew that I was going to be trying. I just feel that I was at a certain level in my life that consumed me that I can't get right now and it is frustrating, it really is. And I think the only way that I can get that is by riding again. And sometimes I just have to watch and stay back and let it happen and sometimes it's no fun at all.

Is there anyone out there who you see who's as committed as you are?

Mick's (Doohan) the only guy. The only guy I see that I can see is doing it right is Mick. And, I think he's doing a great job staying motivated and having fun and he's the only you can say, "You're doing it right." Because the other guys are just waiting for Mick to make a mistake instead of trying to push him into a mistake.

Do you ever point that out to your riders? Do they know?

I think the general thought when it comes to Mick is that we're racing for second. That includes (Alex) Criville. They're not racing Mick, they're racing everybody else. (My riders) see Mick doing it. He's flicking it a certain way and he's keeping it on line. And my guys say, "Well, I can't keep it on line." I say, "Mick does it right there." They say: "Yeah, but Mick's stronger. He's physically tuned his brain and muscles just to ride that 500." Well, you're not going to get there. You're not strong enough and it's going to take you a few years to get strong enough. They want the result now, they don't look it as a race by race thing. It's like if they don't have it today then we've got to change something else. I don't know what you're going to change.

What about after Mick? When he retires, what happens then?

I think it becomes exciting again. I think with Mick out of there I'd get new life. There's a lot of guys who are a couple of levels away from Mick. Everybody I think just races for second, but with Mick out of there it's exciting for them to talk on TV again and for us to go, "Hey, maybe we've got a chance this weekend." Mick's talking about racing another year. I said, "Why don't you race the 250 class or something?"

That's another change this year. How much different is it being able to concentrate on just one class this year?

It's wonderful. I can sleep in a little more because I don't have to get up. My day starts at 6 and ends at 11 every day. And most of that is just getting prepared to get up and getting prepared to go to bed. That 250 thing was a completely different set of circumstances, problems. The team was completely separate from the 500 team, the engineers, their particular problems, completely different than the 500s. There was no camaraderie between the two teams. And so I'd put on my red hat over here and mess with the 250 team and then I'd go out in the garage and come back in and change teams and go work with the other team. It was a lot of work on my end. You're trying to keep everybody motivated, because that's what it was - it was work. Keeping everybody motivated. And when I rode it wasn't work, it was just, this is the way it is. And, again, it's me understanding how everybody does it.

You've said that Tetsuya and Loris were completely different to deal with. Tetsuya could motivate himself more, at least in the beginning.

Tetsuya is really, really strong mentally when things are right. But when it's not right he's three-quarters throttle. I believe you have to be even more full throttle is when things are off a bit because the rider is going to have make up 70 percent of the deficit that we have. And Loris, he rides all on lap time. If the lap time's good, he's happy. But if it's not, it's like, fix it. I can't do it. If I could fix it, I'd be in my leathers.

Was that 250 Yamaha as bad as it was made out to be?

Yeah. It was electrical failures and seizing up on the warmup lap. I think at the end there Yamaha just gave up on the 250 thing and when they saw the effort Harada was giving they just went: "Hey, he's not trying, we're not going to try." Let's work more on this 500 thing. Kenny beating up on Yamaha in the press was hurting me and my sponsorship thing with Yamaha and Marlboro. I'm trying to do a good job in the 250 class and trying to protect the interest in the 500 class and I think both of my efforts suffered because of the effort Yamaha was giving.

But Kenny's always beat up on Yamaha.

Kenny's always beat up on Yamaha, but we were winning. Kenny said, "You know Wayne, we keep winning on that thing we're not going to get a better bike," and he was right. But I'm the one riding it and I didn't have a choice. And we would get in some huge arguments over there's no way that we can win on this thing and then we'd go out on Sunday and win. Kenny would go, "Wayne, how are we going to get a better bike?" But I didn't have a choice. But, now, the situation that he was in, and I was in, is that we could beat up on Yamaha all we wanted, we weren't going to win. I think Kenny convinced some people that that was the case and I knew all along that we needed the riders, the riders had to suck it up. Because. the Yamaha got so much better because they weren't winning the last couple of years. You can ask Mike Sinclair on Kenny's team about the Yamahas, a good rider could win the World Championship on it. Kenny's own guy would say that.

How's Yamaha's position changed from last year to this as far as development?

The problem we were having with Kenny last year, Yamaha and myself, was Yamaha wanted Kenny to stop all of his development. And there was some friction with Yamaha and Kenny. So then Yamaha was in a delicate position because they had Rainey Marlboro and Roberts Marlboro and if they showed more favoritism to me, they'd say Kenny's got this big team and you need to support him so Yamaha had to hold back. Whatever they give me they didn't want Kenny to have because I think they believed Kenny was doing something else. So, my effort suffered from Yamaha because they were trying to protect their sponsorship with me. It was really difficult with what Kenny was saying with Yamaha and the way things really were.

How does that translate to development?

For instance we showed up at a test and as soon as we started the bike Kenny's guys come over and said: "What's this? Oh, you guys got differ- ent cylinders on it, where's ours?" Kenny'd make a phone call to Marlboro and Marlboro would say: "Hey, what are you guys doing? You're helping Wayne, you're not helping Kenny." That's what I mean. We could develop, but with Kenny in there we couldn't do it.

So this year how's it different?

I tell you, it's been a joy. The way Team Rainey is now with Yamaha is a lot better for me because I don't have any controversy with taking something away from Kenny or Marlboro jumping in with, "How come the bikes are no good?" Now Yamaha has been able to develop stuff on Sete's bike, which is why he came, to develop. And it's really good, really good. Yamaha's putting a lot of money into it so we've got make sure it's right when they build it. We don't want to go off in some direction that's wrong. Right now we've got some new stuff that going to be really good when we get to Jerez.

[cellythefloshie]

;; Baggage Chapter Two of Cool for the Summer

Table of Contents Chapter One «« 🤍 »» Chapter Three

Summary: Andrei arrives in Winnipeg for what he intends to be a summer of training. That is until he finds himself distracted by the girl next door, Harper. TW: No triggers apply. Word Count: 4k+

This chapter to be read in conjecture with @hockeyboysimagines I Loved You Three Summers Chapter One.

Winnipeg, Manitoba, was one of seven Canadian cities that an NHL team called home. Many players formed their opinions about the city: it was too cold, the hotels and accommodations were often less than satisfactory, and the city was too boring with little to do outside hangout with your teammates in the hotel room or at dinner. And after only a few years in the NHL, Andrei knew that all to be true. The winters were cold. The waters at the hotel had run cold. If it hadn’t been for his brother playing for the Winnipeg Jets, there would have been nothing for him to do during their one-night stay during the regular season. But in the summer, Winnipeg seemed different. 

The golden glow of a golden hour that he had seen as the place descended over acres of farmer’s fields that building by building became the small city still lingered as he loaded one back, and then the next into the trunk of the taxi that was waiting for them at the airport. Andrei followed Seth’s lead, climbing into the back of the cab and watching as the city evolved around him on their way to Seth’s childhood home on the opposite side of the city. 

The airport became factories, factories became shopping centers and apartment buildings that grew in height until they were towering office buildings in the heart of downtown. Hiding between it was, was the arena he had played in, and then it was all left behind as they were driven to the communities on the south side of the city. 

The houses there were stout, humble, and not quite new enough that one was a carbon copy of the next. Each house had character, with sprawling yards in the front, and Andrei was sure more in the back. It was the kind of neighborhood that kids played street hockey in, and mothers grouped together in walking groups with their dogs and babies before going back to the porches for a glass of wine while husbands cooked on the barbeque. The thought made him smile, even if just a little. It wasn’t home, and it was only temporary, but it would do. 

“That’s it, on the left,” Seth pointed out the window towards one of the larger homes on the street, one with two stories and a long driveway that sat side by side with their neighbors. Two vehicles sat fender to bumper, rusty and in desperate need of a replacement, but his eyes only lingered there for a moment as he got out of the car and rounded to the trunk to grab his bags. 

Andrei was much more interested in what was going on next door. Crammed into the narrow driveway was not one white Jeep Wrangler, but two, and they were both blocked in the driveway by a large U-Haul box truck. Its large frame blocked out the hot, setting sun, but the shadows of the two young women that stood at the back of the truck still stretched across the pavement. Both blonde, and both pretty, they seemed to be conversing there as they unloaded the boxes - the taller pointing into the back of the truck while the shorter was gathering something - a box - from inside. The pair exchanged the box, and it gave Andrei a good enough look at them to conclude one thing: they were sisters. They had to be. They looked too alike not to be. 

Before he could ask Seth about them, the taxi door was slamming, sending his gaze snapping back towards the road before a cheery shout of, “Seth’s home!” had his neck snapping back to the truck, but now, the taller of the blonde’s stood alone, with the smaller nowhere to be seen. Putting the box down at her feet, she jogged down the driveway - her blonde ponytail swaying back and forth against her shoulders with each stride - and she didn’t stop until her arms were thrown around Seth’s shoulders. 

And Andrei just stood there, one bag held in his fist while the other sat on the ground at his own feet, and he watched them. At first, if only because of the smile Seth wore as he welcomed her close, Andrei thought that maybe, just maybe, this was a girl Seth had used to date, or at the very least hook up with. But they hugged and spoke like family. 

“Look at you, mister NHL superstar,” her tone was teasing as she drew back, a bit of a hop in her step as she sunk her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. 

“Hardly,” Seth laughed, a single hand reaching up to push through the tangles of his dark hair. He was grinning, but his shoulders slouched - a little embarrassed, maybe. “Where’s Maddie?”

“Uh?” the blonde hummed, her body turning to look back towards the U-Haul and the front door. “I don’t know. She was just right here.”

Andrei’s eyes fixated on her mouth as she spoke, her lips full and caught somewhere between a smile and a frown, as if each corner would downturn the moment he looked away. He shouldn’t have starred, but he was captivated by the complexity of her expression. Her smile spread so widely into the fullness of her cheeks, but there was no light in her eyes. Only a heaviness in the hazel hue that had Andrei’s shoulder slouching and neck craning forward as if he could get a better look at them. As if he were imagining the storm in her eyes that clouded over the radiance of her smile. 

“Ah,” her smile altered, her nose wrinkling as she took a step back, “who’s this?”

Seth brought an arm around, his hand patting up against Andrei’s back firmly as he made the introduction, “my teammate Andrei, he’s going to be staying with me for the summer.”

“Lucky him,” there was an uncertainty in her tone, her eyes looking him up and down once and stopped once their eyes met again. 

“Luckier now,�� Andrei spoke after a moment, a hand reaching out into the space between them. He had a tightness in her stomach, one he couldn't shake. He had made her uncomfortable with the staring, he knew it, but he couldn’t look away, not as Seth gave him a nudge and questioned him silently with a thick raised brown. “Seth didn’t mention having a sister-”

“No, no, not my sister,” Seth spoke quickly, raising his hands, almost as if the mere idea offended him, “Harper and Maddie grew up next door. She was my babysitter.”

“I don’t believe it, you look so young” Andrei grinned wide, his words laced with a low laugh. 

“Babysitter, not his mother. I’m not ancient,” Harper countered, her hand reaching out to shake his hand as it waited for her to hold between them. 

Her delicate fingers slid along his, meeting calloused palms and his careful but firm hold. Her touch left him holding his breath, hiding the excitement that sent his heart racing in the depths of his chest behind a calm smile. Andrei shook her hand long and slow, the thought of letting go not once crossing his mind until she leaned him, offered a soft smile and spoke, “you think I could get my hand back now?”

“Yes,” Andrei’s eyes went wide, his hand letting go of Harper’s as if it were now suddenly as hot as flame. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” she spoke, taking a step back, her first step of her accent up the driveway, “I’ll ah-” she hummed, her hand reaching up to rub the back of her neck, and Andrei watched it all still staring, shameless, “I’m going to go check on Maddie, let her know that you’re home. I’m sure she just ran inside to get something-”

Andrei’s eye didn’t leave her once as she stumbled back over her sneakers towards her front door. And he smiled a dopey grin as he took in the full sight of her. Harper wasn’t just a pretty face. She was petite and lean, but not in a fragile, feminine way. Harper was strong. He could see it in her muscles as she picked up the box she had abandoned in the driveway, and in the hop in her step as she jogged towards the house. Then she was gone, lost beyond what waited for her beyond the front door. It was then, with her out of sight, Andrei felt the force of Seth’s hand knocking him against his chest. 

“What was that man?” Seth was grinning as he reached down to grab his own bags and began to lead the way to his own front door. 

“She is very pretty,” Andrei smiled, following in his path, all the while looking back towards the door of Harper’s house. 

“Yeah, well,” Seth pushed open the door, his own words interrupting their conversation as he shouted out, “Mom, Dad? We’re home!”

Seth kicked his shoes off in the doorway, nudging them to the side with the toes of his dirty socks. Andrei did the same, tucking his sneakers to the side on a free space on a cluttered shoe rack before taking quick strides to catch up to Seth who was leading the way to the quest room that Andrei would be calling home until they went back to Carolina in September. 

It was small, with nothing more than a queen sized bed and a dresser for him to pack away his things. It wasn’t much, but it would do - especially with a distraction like Harper next door. He wouldn’t need much else. 

“Well?” Andrei pressed as he threw his bag down at the end of the bed, making himself at home. “Harper…”

“Last time I heard? She’s getting married in August-”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Without a hand to reach back for it, the front door slammed into its frame, leaving Harper to jump away from its firm rattle as it set her on course for her sister’s bedroom. One the way, she abandons what she considered the final box of her moving trip at the top of the basement stairs, and she doesn’t waste her time taking off her shoes - not when she will still need to run boxes to the storage locker she was renting on the outskirts of the city. But first, she needed answers. 

Taking the stairs going up two at a time, Harper hopped onto the landing and called out to her little sister, “Mads?” 

She paused, waiting for her to call back to her. Madison said nothing. 

Brows furrowing, she craned her neck to peer through the door that was left open just a crack. Anyone else would have considered it closed, but to Harper, it was an invitation to let herself inside. Looking one way, Harper looked over an unmade empty bed, and looking at the other, she found her sister seated at her desk, one leg brought up to hug it against her chest, while she appeared occupied. But Harper knew her better than that. Madison was just trying to look busy. 

Harper sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest, her lead leaning to rest against the door frame. If their father was home, she would have walked right in and closed the door, but it was just them in the house and he wouldn’t be back until the early hours in the morning. They would have more than enough time to talk; “What was that all about?”

“What?” Madison didn’t look up from her desk, instead she reached out for something Harper couldn’t quite see, and toyed with it in her fingers. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Madison,” Harper’s tone was firm, caught somewhere between concerned sibling and mother. It was one of the harsh traits and realities of growing up without their mother - and growing up the eldest of two daughters. 

“Harper,” Madison countered, the smile in her voice almost enough to leave Harper groaning. 

Did she really have to be so difficult? Though, was Harper really in the position to push her way back into her sister’s life? She had been living on her own since she was eighteen, and was only now moving home almost a decade later because of her own mistakes. Mistakes Madison had not one clue about. They had grown so far apart there were parts of her life Harper was sure Madison couldn’t even fathom. Maybe that fact went both ways. 

“You can’t hide shit from me, you know that,” Harper reminded. Before, when she was still at home, and they were still close, they told each other everything. And even when they didn’t, they always found out. “I know something’s wrong.”

Pushing off her desk, Madison swiveled in her seat. “You always were the smart one.”

“Smart?” Harper raised a brow as she pushed up from where she propped herself against the doorway and moved to sit at the end of Madison’s bed. “Sure, but that’s got nothing to do with it. I know you, and what happened outside, that’s not normal.”

Seth and Madison, they had been inseparable since they were in diapers. There were pictures on the walls and buried deep in photo albums to prove it. Harper knew that better than anyone - hell, she was the one that was stuck babysitting them both until they were old enough to be trusted alone. Even then, her father - and Seth’s parents - often had her chaperone. She had attended too many middle school dances in her lifetime to admit and even more hockey games. But Harper would do anything or her sister - and Seth, but only if he asked nicely. 

“Fine,” Madison sighed, “Can we keep this between us, though?”

Harper only nodded, scared that saying anything else would leave Madison second guessing her decision to tell her anything. 

“Last summer, things got kind of…” Madison sighed, her head hanging on her shoulders and sending her long blonde bangs into her eyes. A single hand raised to fix them as she spoke. “Weird I guess? We were at this party right before he left for camp-”

Harper’s stomach sunk, her head spiraling with every worst possible outcome, and every protective instinct sent her nerves raw. 

“He was with some girl. It just pissed me off, and we had a fight.”

She shouldn’t have been relieved by what she heard, but Harper was letting out a long sigh of relief all the same. Then, she sat there for a moment, her fingers picking at her own nail beds as she worried that Madison might not like the conclusion she had reached with the little detail she had offered her, “was that fight with Seth because you were jealous.”

“No,” Madison scoffed, “I was just mad he was with another girl?”

Harper’s head cocked and her eyes narrowed. “That’s what jealousy is, Mads.”

Madison blew out a breath and let her gaze fall to her feet. “Whatever, so yeah,” she spoke quickly, “I’m just not ready to see him yet.”

“Holy shit, Mads,” Harper couldn’t stop herself from letting a smile spread over her features, “are you telling me that you like Seth?”

“I think so. I mean, why else would I get upset like that if I didn’t? Right?”

“Right,” Harper nodded, “I baby sat both of you for such a long time, and I would have never guessed it’d come to that. But maybe I’m not as good of a sister as I thought I was…” There were a lot of things Harper wasn’t good at anymore. She wasn’t a good daughter, a good sister, or a friend. Most days, she wasn’t even good at being herself. “Do you think he likes you?”

Madison’s shoulder shrugged, and Harper couldn’t help but to smile. Suddenly, she felt like a teenager again. A teenager just trying to help her little sister through the mundane pressures of middle school and puberty. When the troubles were nothing more than getting a bad grade on a test, what jeans were in fashion and crushes on boys. 

“Last time I checked, the answer was no,” Madison sighed, but was quick to turn the table on Harper. If there was one thing the Alexander sisters were, it was supportive of one another. “And don’t say that. You’re a great sister.”

“That was last summer. Could be different now. He’s had a whole season away, and a lot of time to think about how things ended between the two of you.”

“Maybe-”

“Talking to him might help things, or at the very least put things at ease between the two of you. And if he doesn’t know how you feel, he can’t act on any feelings he might also have. You know?” Harper smiled, but it was quick to waiver. She was the last person that should be giving any kind of relationship advice. “I’m sure you don’t want my advice, though. I’m not exactly a love expert these days.”

Madison’s frown mirrored her own, but for a different reason. “I always want your advice. You’re the smartest person I know, and you’re my big sister. Don’t ever think for one second I don’t value what you say, or want your opinion.” It was the heart to heart they needed, and it was punctuation with a mischievous smile and a playful, “bitch.”

It was the very word they needed to break out into laughter. Harper lay back on her sister’s bed with open arms. She welcomed her sister from her perch on the chair, the two of them laying together in the bed for a moment as Harper stared at the ceiling. Her eyes burned with the emotional acid that were tears. Refusing to look at her own sister was the only way to keep her sister from seeing them. She had missed moments like that. She had missed what it felt like to have someone for support. Harper had missed her sister more than she had realized. 

“You’re smart, kind and beautiful, Mads,” Harper did her best to keep her voice calm, “if a guy can’t see that, then he’s dumb and not worth your time. And that still applies, even if it’s Seth. The guy should know how amazing you are by now.”

“You’re smart, kind and beautiful too,” Madison reminded her, “and someday a guy will see that… Like that hottie in the driveway! WHO was that?”

Nope. Was the first thing to cross Harper’s mind at her sister’s words, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t feel beautiful, kind nor smart, or if it was that she didn’t want to talk about the very awkward encounter with Carolina Hurricanes forward, Andrei Svechnikov, in her driveway. He had stared a little too long, and maybe so had she. His voice was so deep she could feel it in her bones as he spoke, and her hand? She swore she could still feel it wrapped around hers as she flexed it even then, as it was empty. 

He had left her feeling more than she had in the last month, though she wasn’t exactly sure what it was she was feeling. So she settled on being confused, and not saying a damn word about it. “He’s Seth’s teammate, Andrei I think-”

Kissing her sister’s hair, Harper peeled away from the hug and began to move for the door before she could feel her sister’s pressure to divulge any further. What could she divulge? Harper didn’t actually know. Their encounter had been brief, but she had seen enough to support her sister’s question: he was very attractive, albeit young. But she wasn’t going to admit that. Not Maddie, not to anyone. 

Andrei was far too young to have her thinking anything like that. 

“Anyway, I have some boxes I need to unpack,” Harper hummed, her hand grasping at the door frame to whip herself from the room while calling out behind her, “and I’ll be ordering pizza for dinner. My thank you for helping my dumb as move back in!”

Then, before her sister could question her on it, Harper raced down both flights of stairs and was forced to stop in her tracks at the bottom of the second flight. What was once the basement she and her sister performed self-written plays for their father in, and also doubled as a mini-sticks rink was now a collection of piled boxes, and a new IKEA bed built and shoved awkwardly between furniture that has been around since the 90s. This would be her new bedroom. There was still much more to be done. Table to move, her boxes to unpack, and sheets to wash. It all seemed like too much, it all an overwhelming, suffocating feeling on her chest as Harper stood there surrounded by it all. 

Her palms began to sweat, and a hand raised up to pull at the collar of her shirt that was nowhere near her neck. It was the new beginning she needed, even though she hated that it had to come at the ripe age of twenty-seven. This wasn’t where she was supposed to be, living in her father’s basement, but it was where she needed to be. 

Harper had accepted that. 

But Darren hadn’t. 

Her phone vibrated in the tight pocket of her rights. It had been buzzing on and off throughout the evening as she had unpacked the U-Haul, but it was only as she stood surrounded by the mess that was her life that Harper had the time to answer it. Even then, she almost didn’t when she was her ex’s name on the call display, but she wanted to give him the closer he seemed to so desperately need. 

“Hey,” her voice croaked, “what’s up?”

“I just got in. You left your keys on the counter? And I can’t find the-”

Harper’s eyes shut tight, a single hand raising up to pinch at the bridge of her nose. Darren knew this was happening. She didn’t know why he pretended he didn’t. It was only going to make it more difficult for the both of them. 

“I moved out the rest of my stuff today, Darren.” Harper did her best to keep her voice firm. They were over. That needed to be clear.

“Harp-”

“Don’t!” Her grasp tightened around her phone, her heart racing in her chest, and her stomach on the verge of lurching. At first, going back home was just to get space. Harper had spent weeks sleeping on the sofa, trying to work things out, but there was no healing for Harper. Their problems were only solved temporarily, or only seemed to exist for her, not for him. She was tired, living each day in resentment while Darren lived each day, loved and taken care of. 

Harper wanted that same respect. 

Darren promised it. 

It never came. 

“Don’t call me anymore. Goodbye, Darren.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Winnipeg was cold until it wasn’t. Even in the early days of summer, Andrei could feel it. The heavy sweat on his skin that came with the thick humidity in the air. It should have reminded him of Carolina nights, but his place back home had a temperature control that didn’t rely on an old, rickety air conditioning unit that was wedged in his window. It rattled and stalled before roaring to life again when the heat became unbearable. It left Andrei tossing and turning on what would have been a comfortable bed if it weren’t for the heat that surrounded him. 

Blankets were tangled between his legs, shoved to one side of the bed and then the other before joining the pillows on the floor and leaving Andrei laying in nothing but his boxers in the bed. It wasn’t enough. He needed to cool off somehow. 

Groaning, he pushed himself up from the bed and moved quietly into the kitchen. Andrei moved through the cupboards quietly. Opening one after the other until he found a glass and filled it up with tap water when he couldn’t find a pitcher in the fridge. He filled it until it overflowed, drank it dry, and filled it again. It was cold, but wasn’t cold enough. It left him cursing under his breath as he placed the glass down on the countertop. His head hung low on his shoulders, his eyes shutting for a moment as he contemplated messaging his brother to sleep on the couch in his condo for the remainder of the summer. 

But when his eyes opened, they fixated on the blue bin below, and a photograph that was buried among empty beer cans and old pizza boxes. Usually he wouldn’t have looked twice, but there was one face prominent on the glossy image, the pretty neighbor, Harper. 

Crouching down, Andrei pinched the picture between his fingers and pulled it from the recycling bin. He winced as the box tumbled, clamoring as they fell to the ground, but the house remained silent. He was the only one awake. Letting out a heavy sigh, Andrei stood up straight, and held the photo in the moonlight that streamed in through the kitchen window. 

Harper wasn’t alone in the photo. She was embraced by a handsome, apparently older man with his hair cut short and stubble covering his jawline. In elegant cursive it read, you’re invited to the wedding of mr darren fletcher and ms harper alexander. The save the date was for the August long weekend, just under two months away - but when Andrei moved to the large calendar that Mrs. Jarvis hung up on the kitchen wall to keep track of deadlines for the school year Andrei noticed one thing: the wedding date on the calendar was scratched out.

Taglist: @starshine-hockey-girl , @wingedwheelprxncess , @mp0625 , @misunderstoodwerewolf , @callsign-denmark , @puckmaidens , @xciciix , @cixrosie

[moonspirit]

Moon, hello-hello 💚🌿

Hope you're doing well, and sending you some (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～❄️❄️ for the Christmas mood~

So, about the Christmas mood... What are your thoughts on Ambassadors Christmas "party" (in quotes because I don't think they would do as "party-party", you know, but I have no idea how to make it otherwise...) ?

What do you think they would gift each other, how would they spend their time? Knowing this chaotic team, some hilarious stuff would totally happen :D

Anyway, I hope you'll have fun with this, and have wonderful *timezone*, Moon (⁠っ⁠˘⁠з🌖 ⁠)

Hello Anna chan :3 Thank you so much for asking me this because HAHAA I had a complete laughter fit thinking of how fucking WRONG the Ambassador's first Christmas is going to go xD

For starters I'm just going to assume the Paradis boys are new to the concept of Christmas and that they celebrated something different back in Paradis during the winter. So, Santa Claus? Never heard of him but omg, seems like a great guy! How do we sign up for presents?!!!!

(Pieck tells them they have to become members of the Elven Association first and sends them on a wild-goose chase around town to find the Elven Lord for the sole benefit of her entertainment)

Reiner meanwhile, makes the mistake of taking up the role of Local Santa Claus for the kids in the neighbourhoods, and honestly? fair? The dude is LORGE and can do a great HO HO HO. Giving him a pillow-belly and an itchy beard turns out to be the best idea the local government has ever come up with in its 300 year history of failure.

However... it is a mistake. Dude is LORGE, remember? His first delivery and he gets stuck in a chimney.

In the middle of the Christmas market, Annie, hoping to be left alone in undisturbed peace and a chance to try out the sweets in the stalls, accidentally ends up following a cat to an abandoned street where a group of very misunderstood angry kids lurk in conspiratorial conversation, and sensing a sort of sisterhood in her similarly arranged resting bitch face, they convince her into dressing up as Krampus.

Basically this thing, the opposite of Santa Claus. For funsies and to kidnap children.

They have high hopes that Anniepus will be able to terrorize the town on their behalf because Christmas is for the happy and weak.

Unfortunately... Anniepus ends up being a very small Krampus and nobody's frightened of her as she skulks around town searching to put children in her bucket. Not like she really cares tho. She just wants those goddamn sweets 🥲

Update (very late into the night): Reiner is still stuck in the chimney and his itchy beard is starting to give him a rash. Not that anyone can see tho, the chimney is dark!

Update (from somewhere very far away, on a snowy cliff overlooking a big chasm, great snowstorm blowing): three boys, dressed in worn out clothes, holding staffs, squint wistfully into the swirling wind. "Is that him? The Elven Lord's abode?"

(it's a bush)

Update (sometime later and somewhere else): Anniepus is stealing collecting cats from children and putting them in her bucket.

Update (even later into the night): Reiner's sleigh driver is getting tired of waiting for his Santa and incurring heavy parking fees.

Update (from the next continent): Three boys, scruffy and homeless, chase after an ostrich. "Elven Lord, please let us join your association!"

Update: Anniepus starts a cat cafe.

Update: The local government deploys a crane to get Reiner out of the chimney. It is a failure. The crane cannot lift Santa's booba.

Update: The boys are in the South pole. They come across penguins and believe they've arrived at the Elf Factory!

Update: Pieck gets bored of everything and opens a sexy santa-girl strip club <3

[coimbrabertone]

Injuries, Job Security, and How MotoGP and Indycar Differ...Or Don't.

In the last two years, two racers I support have been seriously injured. One was Enea Bastianini, rider of the #23 Ducati in MotoGP, and the other was David Malukas, who never actually got to drive the #6 NTT Data Arrow McLaren-Chevrolet Indycar.

So, just to go over what happened to them: Enea Bastianini was injured in the opening sprint race of the 2023 MotoGP season, the Portuguese GP at Portimao. Luca Marini went up his inside into turn five (Torre VIP), lost it, and his bike slid into Enea's bike. Enea broke his collarbone in this crash, wound up missing the opening five races, came back, injured himself again at Catalunya, and missed another three races.

Enea would return for the Indonesian Grand Prix and would then win the Malaysian Grand Prix towards the end of the season. That win, combined with Jorge Martin on the Pramac Ducati failing to beat Francesco Bagnaia for the championship, secured Enea's seat for 2024.

So, while Enea was enjoying a secure offseason, David Malukas was preparing for his switch from Dale Coyne Racing to a frontrunning team in the form of Arrow McLaren...except, he never actually made his debut for the team.

David Malukas was mountain biking in California, riding an easy trail, when, trying to slow himself, pulled the front brake too hard, went up and over the handlebars, and landed on his hands. He would break his left wrist and it was announced he would miss St. Pete and probably Thermal.

St. Pete and probably Thermal soon became St. Pete and definitely Thermal, missing those two races. Callum Ilott would fill in.

Malukas missed Long Beach next, with Theo Pourchaire in the car now.

Then Theo Pourchaire raced Long Beach as well.

Around this time, various rumors started flying about Malukas getting replaced. This only grew as Nathan Brown reported that Malukas had traveled to Panama in order to receive stem cell shots to speed up his recovery, and only then did he get the pins in his wrist removed.

Then, after Barber - the fourth race of the season, Malukas blacked out his twitter page. I was sat in a discord debating what exactly this meant with some other Indycar fans, with news picking up that he had been dropped. With the story pretty much out there, Arrow McLaren made the announcement early in the morning, David Malukas had been released after failing to meet his contractual obligations.

By now, it's been announced that Ilott will do the Indy 500, and then Theo Pourchaire will fill out the rest of the season in the #6. The Malukas at McLaren story ended before it could even begin.

Meanwhile, in MotoGPland, Enea Bastianini continued with the factory Ducati team. However, with Jorge Martin now building up an annoyingly large championship lead and Marc Marquez on the Ducati stealing all the attention, the whole world seems to think it's between the two of them to get the Ducati factory seat for 2025.

For the record, Enea is tied on points with Marquez, just two behind his teammate, and spent this weekend's race - the French Grand Prix at the Le Mans Bugatti Circuit - starting tenth, getting a penalty, recovering to fourth, setting fastest lap, and finishing just 2.2 seconds off the lead.

Enea is an immense talent, he's the rider I chose to support when I decided to become a MotoGP fan ahead of the 2023 season, and it's so rotten to see his career falling apart because of factors outside of his control.

As for Malukas, he's a young, popular kid and has proven so talented on the ovals in a Dale Coyne Racing car. I was so eager to see what he could do with an Arrow McLaren, particularly at tracks like Iowa, Gateway, and Nashville which seemed like they'd suit him. Now, we're not going to get the chance, and it's unclear where he might land if he were to try and return to Indycar.

So, in theory, MotoGP gives more time to injured racers, but no matter what series you're in, motorsports can be a cutthroat business. Bastianini and Malukas certainly aren't the first racers to lose top rides after an injury, and they certainly won't be the last. It's not exactly an industry known for job security.

If I could manifest a happy resolution to both, I'd have Enea Bastianini go to factory Aprilia to join Maverick VInales, while David Malukas could join Meyer Shank Racing (perhaps with Tom Blomqvist returning to IMSA with the same team) to reinforce their oval program the same way Felix Rosenqvist has revitalized that team on the road and street circuits.

For now though, we wait to see what happens to them.

To end on a happier note, Brad Keselowski won the Darlington Goodyear 400 NASCAR race last night running a throwback scheme in honor of the TOM's Castrol Supra. That is an awesome motorsports word randomizer and the fact that it's real is why NASCAR is really cool in 2024.

One day I'll write a blogpost where talking about current NASCAR is actually the point instead of just spending the final paragraph gushing about last weekend's cool race.

[umgeorge]

george russell, p3, during the post-race press conference, abu dhabi - november 26, 2023 (transcription under the cut)

Interviewer: "George, coming to you, can we start by talking about P2 in the constructor's championship? With Lewis coming home ninth, you were Mercedes' main man in that fight. How much pleasure does it give you to come home ahead?" George: "Yeah, it was a great weekend, and really pleased to fnish on this high because it's been a really challenging season; one, as a team, but on the personal side, just not getting the results that we probably deserved. The pace has been really strong on so many occasions, but just results kept on slipping through our fingers, so lady luck may be on our side slightly today with Checho's penalty, but I think that more than made up for the other races this year." Interviewer: "And let's talk about the race. It looked tough for you, both on track and physically." George: "Yeah, I've been really ill the last two weeks, firstly in Vegas with a big fever-couldn't sleep and just feeling awful-and then I've had a horrendous cough that's stayed with me all week, and in the car I was coughing every single lap, but when you're strapped into the car you can't take a deep breath in to get the cough out, so it was just constantly with me and it was pretty miserable, so I was pleased to bring it home when I saw that checkered flag." Interviewer: "Look, final one from me: are there any positives from the W14 that you'd like to see taken into next year, or do you want a fresh start, a completely clean sheet with next year's car?" George: [laughs] "Yeah, I think we'll take a clean slate into next year's car. I think the positive is we're not scratching our heads why we're so far behind Red Bull. We see so many flaws with this car, which gives every single person back at the factory so much motivation and fire to chase after those problems and find those solutions, which we think we'll make a good step into next year, but of course I expect Red Bull to make a step again. But I've got no doubt, come Bahrain, we'll be in a stronger position than we were in, in Bahrain this year." Interviewer: "Alright. Thank you, George. Very well done to you. Get better soon." [time jump] Journalist: "Luke Smith from The Athletic. George, just on how you're feeling right now… Esteban Ocon, he was ill earlier this weekend and he'd said yesterday that the body's not really designed to do 23, 24 races a season. Particularly with the calendar structured as it is, the trip from Vegas to here, how much do you think F1's got to really consider wellbeing for the drivers and everyone in the paddock, moving forward, for how we structure the calendar and approach things? 'Cause it's been a long and testing season for everybody." George: "I think the drivers, we have it best from every single person in this paddock; the way we travel, we're in a very fortunate position. But everybody up and down the paddock… I've got so many mechanics who are ill, people in the engineers' office, just really struggling with the constant time zone shifts. The body not knowing where you are, eating at different times, staying in different hotels, different environments, different climates, yeah, the body's getting confused, so I think there are talks for next year about personnel being regulated that they can't do every single race. I think that would be a good thing. I don't think it's sustainable for 4,000 people, I think it is, to do 24 races a season, especially when you see how, geographically, it still doesn't make a huge amount of sense." [time jump] George: [coughing] Interviewer: "Thank you to all three of you. [laughs] George, get better soon. Guys, thank you very much for all your contributions this year. Thank you."

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

From Mako Shark to Manta Ray: The Evolution of the Most Influential Corvette Concepts

Published: 14 Nov 2022, 16:04 UTC • By: 

During the 1960s, General Motors introduced a trio of stunning show cars that laid the groundwork for the C2 and C3 Corvette. Although many other concepts followed, these three remain the most influential, as they went on to inspire the styling of modern iterations, including the current, mid-engine C8.

Like the Corvette itself, the notion of a concept (or show) car was born in the U.S., under GM’s roof. Dubbed Buick Y-Job and designed by the legendary Harley J. Earl, the drop-top beauty unveiled in 1940 previewed a series of novel features and design cues that influenced the division’s mass-produced models for over a decade.

When GM decided to build a rival for the European sports cars that were flooding the North American market in the post-WWII years, the same Harley J. Earl was selected to draw it up. To build hype around it, the corporation commissioned Earl and the Chevy team to build a show car which was codenamed EX-122. First shown to the public at the 1953 Motorama in New York City, the concept would become known as the Corvette and with a few minor changes, it entered production a few months later.

Contrary to popular belief, the C1 wasn’t the commercial success that GM had envisioned but it did pique the American buyer’s interest in a homebuilt sportscar, so the corporation poured resources into the development of a successor.

Under the supervision of Styling and Design head Bill Mitchell, the new Corvette’s design was ironed out as early as 1961 and, as they did in the past, the team created a show car that would help promote it. Like the upcoming production version, the vehicle was designed by Larry Shinoda, who drew inspiration from the 1959 XP-87 Stingray racer.

Gone was the curvaceous, European-looking theme of the C1, with the ‘Vette’s body now boasting far more aggressive lines that look like the sleek shortfin mako shark. Although it was officially codenamed XP-755, the concept car unveiled at the 1962 International Automobile Show would become known as the Mako Shark due to its unmistakable resemblance to the fast-moving predator.

One aspect that contributed to this was the car’s spectacular paintwork. Legend has it that, upon returning from a fishing trip with a taxidermized shark head (some reports state that it was a complete shark) as a trophy, Bill Mitchell hung it in his office and instructed the design team to replicate its coloring on the show car.

Several attempts to make such an impossible task possible were made but Mitchell was not satisfied. The styling head would put the trophy next to the car and since the paint was not identical, he instructed the team to try again. Annoyed by this, an unnamed member of the team snuck into Mitchell’s office one night, took his beloved trophy, and airbrushed it to look like the car’s latest paint job. In the end, the boss couldn’t tell the difference and, since the car and the shark now looked the same, he finally gave his frustrated team the thumbs up.

The Mako Shark managed to draw enough interest in the C2 as it became a fan favorite at every event where it was showcased. It underwent styling and detail changes over time, gaining front fascia and interior upgrades. The car also lost the distinctive "double-bubble" canopy borrowed from a previous concept and became a pure convertible.

Apart from the unique paint and several flamboyant design cues, its overall styling made it to the mass-produced model. which became the commercial hit that its predecessor never was.

Unlike other GM concepts that were eventually destroyed, the original Shark is still alive and well, residing in the corporation’s Heritage Collection located in Sterling Heights, Michigan.

Just a few years after the debut of the Mako Shark, the Corvette team began work on the third-generation model which would roll out the factory gates in 1967. While the mid-engine format proposed by Zora Arkus-Duntov with his race-bred CERV II concept was considered, Bill Mitchell's conventional front-engine design was deemed more marketable by GM’s top brass.

Under the codename XP-830, the development of a new concept car kicked off in early 1964 with the C2’s existing chassis as the base. For the C3, Mitchell wanted "a narrow, slim, center section and coupe body, a tapered tail, an all-of-a-piece blending of the upper and lower portions of the body through the center (avoiding the look of a roof added to a body), and prominent wheels with their protective fenders distinctly separate from the main body, yet grafted organically to it.”

Turning this vision into reality took about a year to pull off. Mitchell’s designers completed a full-size, non-running version in March 1965, and days later, key members of GM’s management were invited to see it. Everyone was blown away and unanimously decided that it had to go into production as soon as possible.

Finished in a similar paint and carrying the same Mako Shark moniker as the XP-755, the non-functional concept was first shown to the public at the New York International Auto Show just a month later. While its exterior design was praised by everyone, its futuristic interior received a lot of criticism for ergonomically-nightmarish such as the yoke-style steering wheel with its complicated transmission controls.

Behind closed doors, the development team was working on a running model that would address these issues and in October 1965, it made its public debut in France, at the Paris Auto Show. Powered by the highly successful and versatile 427 version of Chevy’s Mark IV big block, the functional Mako Shark II had rear-exiting exhausts -as opposed to the static model’s side-mounted variants – and a conventional steering wheel with column-fitted transmission controls.

Although it’s unquestionably the most influential concept car to ever don Corvette badges, shaping the look of America’s popular sports car for generations to come, the story of the second Shark, in either non-functional or functional form, didn’t have a happy ending. Unlike its predecessor which enjoys retirement on top of a pedestal inside GM’s Heritage Collection, the static version was dismantled while the running model was transformed into another show car.

This leads us to the third most influential Corvette concept. Completed in 1969 it left the Mako Shark name behind (but not the now-iconic paint) and became known as the Manta Ray.

Its front fascia remained largely the same, with the only additions being an extended bumper ring around the vents and a chin spoiler mounted underneath.

On the sides, the Manta Ray featured functional exhausts that were masterfully integrated into rocker panels, but its most distinct upgrade was the profusely elongated, tail. The now-classic four taillights layout was tucked under the rear deck line and a pair of pop-up flaps that reflected light from upward-facing lamps were added. You can see rare footage of them in action below, thanks to the video posted on YouTube by DtRockstar1

The reshaped tail flowed into a sweeping, scooped-out, stinger-style roof that helped accentuate the aggressiveness of the overall design. Speaking of aggressiveness, the car was powered by the newly introduced ZL1 427-ci (7.0-liter) V8, a lightweight, all-aluminum monster that could spit out no less than 430 hp.

Even if the Mako Shark II had to be sacrificed to build it, the Manta Ray was in itself a work of automotive art that captivated the hearts and minds of sports car enthusiasts. Thankfully, after its transformation, GM decided to keep it and it joined the first Shark in the corporation’s Heritage Collection.

Many other concept cars that carried the Corvette nameplate followed in the next five decades, but none were as pure nor as influential as these three. They inspired the look of every mass-produced Corvette generation that followed, including the current and radically different C8. 

[wqintraining]

NEW X-MEN: THE ANIMATED SERIES - SEASON 1, EPISODE 11

We open in the school’s gymnasium, where Dani, Karma, Nightcrawler, Beast, and Northstar are decorating for the school’s winter dance, while Dazzler and her band are getting set up on the stage. The boys are all using their powers to speed things up, while Dani is hanging streamers with her bow and arrows. Karma thinks they’re all just showing off. 

Dani just hopes the kids all have fun tonight. What the kids have been undertaking these past three months has been experimental and so different from when they were students (Northstar quick to butt in and mention he got a REAL education and was never a student here), and it can’t have been an easy adjustment for a lot of them. She knows adjusting to becoming a teacher hasn’t been easy for her. 

Xuan mentions she was already working as a librarian before she got Jean’s call, so it wasn’t too much of a change for her, but the others are inclined to agree. It’s been more fun than they’ve thought though, Kurt and Beast by virtue of having found kids they can share their passions with, Nightcrawler mentioning a girl named Pixie as someone with a great deal of enthusiasm for the thespian arts, while Beast think Ms. Washington has the potential to be the next great Mutant scientist. They turn their attention to Northstar, who just says he’s been happy to help a kid in a way he wasn’t expecting to. 

Dazzler then calls over to them, double-checking how much time they’ll have after the dance’s king and queen are announced. 

Beast gives them an answer, while Xuan and Jean-Paul note how outdated this tradition is. 

NORTHSTAR: “It could be a king and a king.” 

KARMA: “Or a queen and a queen.” 

Dani agrees with them in concept, but come on, they’ve been paying attention to the kids. Are they really gonna act like they don’t already know who’s gonna win? 

The others laugh, unable to argue. 

BEAST: “Well, I suppose they’ll be having a more fun night than everyone else then.” He smiles wistfully. “Oh, to be a boy again.” 

We cut to a little boy sitting in a modest kitchen, wheeling a toy truck back and forth across a table. We then see his mother, a conservatively dressed woman with a cross around her neck, preparing dinner.  

After a few moments of peace, both of them turn in horror as a gun clocks. 

WOMAN: “W…William?” 

Stryker, several years younger than he is in the present, stands before his wife and child with a gun raised, his hands shaking, and his eyes bulging and vomiting tears. 

STRYKER: “Marcy…Jason…God rest your souls.” 

Stryker repeatedly shoots his wife and child, killing them. He drops the gun before he himself drops to his knees. He looks down, away from the site he just made, and screams. 

But eventually, he breaths. 

STRYKER: “Be gone, demons.” 

In the present, Stryker stands tall, entirely cold and composed, dressed in ornate robes as opposed to his usual suit. He has faced many setbacks, but he has persisted. And now, with the new tools God has blessed him with, it is finally time to end his war with the X-Men. 

As we pan out, we see he stands in a massive factory - one packed with Sentinels. 

 In the Institute, Julian, (wearing a fancy shirt with an especially douchey collar) and Sofia are playing ping-pong, using their powers to maneuver their paddles instead of their hands. 

JULIAN: “It’s a shame this school doesn’t have a ping-pong team. You’d kill at it and I’d get to see you moving around in a cute uniform.” 

SOFIA: “Are my leotards and training costume not enough for you?” 

JULIAN: “With you beautiful, enough is never enough.” 

As Sofia blushes, more sheepishly than usual, Julian grabs his paddle with his hand to catch Sofia off guard and score a point. 

SOFIA: “You lousy cheater!” 

JULIAN: “Oh come on, you know I’d never cheat on you.” 

Sofia clenches her fists. 

As Sofia’s winds retrieve the ball, a panicked Brian runs in, shouting that the two of them need to get outside immediately. Something’s happening to Mercury and Dust and he’s not sure what. 

The three rush outside to find Cessily and Sooraya congealed in their liquid and sand forms, stretching out and expanding. Students all around them are watching with concern. 

They’re horrified, with Sofia asking why Brian got them instead of the X-Men. They need real help! 

Julian tells her not to worry, and says he’s got this. He lights up and begins using his telekinesis on the girls…and starts using them to spell out letters, the amorphous blob of the girls not only gaining definition, but becoming beautiful as the metal coasts the sand to create a metallic sand print, as Cessily and Sooraya’s faces appear on them, giggling. As Sofia questions what the Hell’s going on, Julian says they can finish the rest. 

Sofia’s jaw drops as the girls reach their final form, their merged bodies spelling out, “Sofia, will you go to the dance with me?” 

As Sofia stands speechless, Brian rests an arm on Julian’s shoulder as he faces her, and the crowd lets out an echo of “Awww”s. Julian tells her he’s tired of all the flirting. They both obviously like each other, so they should just be together. And the dance is the perfect place to make it official. 

Sofia questions why he’s asking her like THIS. 

JULIAN: “What? Too much? We were talking it over, thinking I should ask you out in a “Mutant” way, and this was what we came up with.” 

Cessily and Sooraya untangle themselves and retake their humanoid forms. Honestly, they just wanted to see if they COULD pull that off. Cessily scratches the back of her head, admitting she was the one who needed Julian’s help, while Soo could do it all on her own. 

Brian then enthusiastically reminds Sofia she still hasn’t answered. 

JULIAN: “Don’t rush her, man. But you will go with me, right?” 

Sofia struggles to answer. Everyone’s faces, especially Julian’s, fall, as Sofia starts tearing up. 

SOFIA: “I’m sorry!” 

Sofia blows her friends away with a single, powerful wind, before flying off. 

Everyone is concerned and, for once in his life, Julian is speechless. 

Cyclops is working in his office when there’s a knock on the door. When he doesn’t respond and just keeps working, Emma walks in anyway. Without even looking up from his computer, Scott tells her this better be about business. 

EMMA: “Actually, I was going to ask you and Jean to skip the dance so your dreariness didn’t bring down the children’s mood, but it seems you’ve already taken it upon yourself to stay preoccupied.” 

Scott ignores her. 

EMMA: “Fine, yes, if you’re going to keep being a baby, I have intel.” 

As Scott may recall, in her less noble days, she and Shaw were two of the main bankrollers of companies producing Sentinels, death machines designed only for killing Mutants. Of course, this is one of her many regrets, but she didn’t burn every bridge she had there. She just received a tip that a Chinese manufacturer recently fulfilled an order for over two dozen Sentinels. And, of course, a quick look into this revealed that Cassandra Nova was the recipient.  

Scott slams his fist down. It's bad enough they’ve let the Purifier situation drag on as long as they have, but for this mad woman to go around thinking she’s Xavier’s twin sister as she’s causing all this pain is just insulting. Emma questions his disbelief regarding the info Jean picked up from Nova’s mind, but Scott tells her flatly that if Xavier had a sister, he’d know. 

In any case, Scott has another reason to be frustrated: they’re understaffed. Kitty’s off visiting her dad on Genosha, Jean and Storm are providing relief in Kenya, Sunspot is doing "something" about rebuilding his family business, and Laura may be part of the team now, but she's still a student first, and he doesn't want to deny her her first dance. 

Emma thinks it's no problem. The two of them will handle things themselves. Scott can obliterate the Sentinels before they go online, and, even if Nova happens to be present, with the knowledge Nova had removed it from them previously, Emma was able to forge new mental defenses. 

EMMA: "Who knows? Maybe we can even talk about what's really on your mind on the way."

Emma walks out, saying she'll meet him in the hangar bay in 20 minutes, before Scott can even respond. 

In the weight room, Brian tries talking to Julian as he works out his anger on a punching bag. None of Brian's attempts to change the subject work. Julian just doesn't get it! What's Sofia's problem?! 

As Julian takes a moment to stop and breathe, Brian tells him he's really sorry it didn't work out, but maybe this is for the best. He has other people who care about him. Maybe he could go with one of them. 

BRIAN: "Maybe you'd wanna go with me."

Julian's eyes widen before he punches the bag again, this time using his TK to knock it off its chain and smash it. 

JULIAN: "Get real, Brian."

Julian grabs his towel, leaving behind a heartbroken Brian as he sulks off. 

In Sofia and Noriko's room, Sofia is buried under her blankets and Nori is trying to get her out of there.

NORIKO: "Come on, Princess, I saw how much you paid for your dress, and I'm not letting that be a waste just because you made the best decision of your life and said no to Keller. What's up?"

Sofia blows the covers partially off herself, still crying. She likes Julian. She likes him a lot. But she's also scared. Back at the Massachusetts Academy, she nearly killed a man in her rage. And on Halloween, she saw, she felt, her worst fear: becoming like her father. 

NORIKO: "Please don't tell me you're scared you'll hurt the jerk."

SOFIA: "No. I would never hurt him. I fear that the less kind parts of him would bring out the worst in myself. A boyfriend is different from a friend. I cannot risk him influencing me in that way."

Noriko sits down next to her. She's sorry she's dealing with this. For what it's worth, she was the one who talked her down from killing Shaw, and she still can't even imagine her turning out like her dick of a dad. And if Keller isn't the biggest dick of all time, he'll understand if she tells him this. Either way, she owes herself the fun of going to the dance, date or no. Do it for her. Do it for her followers. 

Sofia cracks a small smile as she wipes her eyes. 

SOFIA: "I'm trying not to call them "followers" anymore. The perfect cute nickname could boost engagement by multiples." 

NORIKO: "There's my ridiculous girl!"

In the Blackbird, Scott is piloting, while Emma is filing her nails. With Scott clearly not listening, Emma is yammering on about some of the most debacherous times she had back in the Hellfire Club, clearly intentionally trying to get a reaction out of the stone faced hero. Eventually, she’s successful, with Scott shouting at her that even if she doesn’t respect him or his wishes, she should at least be mentally preparing herself for battle. 

Emma stops filing her nails and looks at Scott. 

EMMA: “Where do you see yourself in ten years?” 

SCOTT: “I’m sorry?” 

EMMA: “Ten years. Where do you see yourself? I envision myself laying on a stunning beach, mojito in hand, reading the trashiest romance novel I can get my hands on as I look out at the sea with the knowledge that I’ve eliminated all threats to Mutantkind.” 

Scott, ignoring the absurdity of what she just said, asks what this has to do with anything. Emma tells him that if he knows where he’s going to wind up, with complete faith it will happen, then he has nothing to worry about going into a battle, because he can be sure he’ll make it through alive. 

SCOTT: “That’s not how that works.” 

EMMA: “For normal people, maybe. You’re a soldier who’s been fighting all forms of monsters, gods, and otherwise evil beings, yours truly included, since you were 16. You’ve faced endless hardships. You’re not about to die breaking toys you’ve smashed a million times.” 

There’s a pause. 

SCOTT: “Tell you what: I’ll say where I see myself in ten years if you tell me a single hardship you’ve faced since you were 16. And things that happened while you were a supervillain don’t count.” 

EMMA: “How dare you.” 

SCOTT: “How dare YOU imply I should think like you as if we’re in any way the same. You’re right about everything I’ve been through. And you’ve seen even more firsthand. You were a rich Boston girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth, the most privileged life imaginable, and you joined Hellfire less than a year after finishing college. All of your struggles have been of your own making. Unless you want to tell me I’m wrong.” 

Emma finally shuts up, facing forward with an icy stare. 

SCOTT: “That’s what I thought.” 

Laura stands in her room, dressed in a black button-down shirt and black pants, nervously looking in a mirror. James tells her to breathe. She has nothing to worry about. 

That doesn’t help Laura though. She turns around and asks what if Sofia says no. 

JAMES: “Allow me to rephrase: You’re Wolverine. You’re not allowed to be afraid anymore.” 

While Laura remains anxious, James tells her he’s seen the two getting closer through their sessions with him and Scott, Laura’s saved and/or tried to avenge Sofia on multiple occasions, and he heard she already said no to Julian. With how all-over each other those two are, what other reason could there be besides her heart belonging elsewhere? 

Laura finally stands tall and confident. On her way out, James tells her not to forget the rose he got for her to give. 

JAMES: “It’s classic. Trust me. Sure I can’t convince you to comb your hair?” 

Laura just blows a strand of it out of her face before walking off. 

Laura knocks on Sofia and Noriko’s door. Sofia answers, dressed in a slinky black ballgown and elbow legnth gloves. Laura is in awe. Sofia tells Laura that she looks simple, but still extremely handsome, to which Laura blurts out a proposal about the two of them maybe going to the dance together, sticking the rose in Sofia’s face. 

LAURA: “Oh, um, you look beautiful.” 

Sofia is taken completely off guard. 

SOFIA: “Laura…this is very sweet, but I’m not…” 

Sofia trails off as she looks into Laura’s big green eyes and rapidly flashes back to her in Mojo’s prison with Julian, her being shot, her nearly killing Shaw, and the end of her nightmare. 

Sofia smiles. 

SOFIA: “I’d love to go with you, Laura.” 

Sofia takes the rose. The two just stand there awkwardly. 

LAURA: “Um…what do we do now?” 

SOFIA: “You could tell me what time you’ll drop by to escort me to the gym.” 

LAURA: “Right. Good idea.” 

While she’s being stoic and awkward, Laura’s hands are flapping. 

We cut to the inside of the sentinel factory, the interior guarded by Purfiers. Emma telepathically informs Scott of how many there are and where they’re positioned. 

Cyclops proceeds to blast down the factory’s entrance, running in and taking down every single guard through a combination of quick, efficient, and well-times optic blasts, and martial arts. 

Emma gives Scott a slow clap as she casually struts in and teases him by saying how sexy that was, stomping down on a barely concious Purifier’s head with her high-heel to knock him out. Before Scott can refute this, Stryker makes his presence known, stepping down a staircase toward the two, acknowledging that the strength given to them by Satan is indeed impressive. And that is what makes them as frightening as they are, beyond merely those who consort with him. 

Scott readies himself to attack as he tells Stryker the only ones they’re a threat to are those who’d try to kill them. Stryker sighs and pulls his hand out of his pocket, revealing he’s holding a dead man’s switch. If he lets go of the button he’s holding down, bombs inside the Sentinels will go off, kill them all, and wipe out everything else in a 15-mile radius. Scott questions what he wants. 

STRYKER: “I did not have the chance to truly engage with Mrs. Summers. The lord spoke with her, personally. A greater honor than she deserved. Still, I wish to speak to you, Cyclops. Man to man. Before the end times for Mutantkind arrive, I want to make you see that I am not a monster, but a righteous servant. I want you to admit that I am doing what is best for you all.” 

Scott scowls at him, not having any other option for the moment but to listen. 

In the cafeteria, Noriko, Cessily, and Sooraya are eating together. Nori and Cess are commiserating over the fact that no one's asked either of them out. Nori tells Soo she's lucky: she might not have a date because she'll only date other Muslims, while they KNOW they don't have dates because they're losers. Sooraya rolls her eyes at this, while Surge and Mercury curse their gauntlets and mercury form, respectively. 

MERCURY: "Have you had dates before?"

SURGE: "A couple. You're Ms. Cheerleader though, so I'm guessing you've got a lot more experience with, well…"

Noriko sticks her thumb in her mouth and pushes it in and out rapidly, laughing after a couple seconds. 

SOORAYA: "What is wrong with you?"

Nori kicks her feet up on the table. 

NORIKO: "Absolutely nothing."

"Hey, Cessily!"

The girls' attention is drawn to Roxy as she jogs over to their table. Cessily instantly shrinks as she approaches, becoming slightly more liquid than usual. 

CESSILY: "Roxy. Hi. You…know who I am?"

ROXY: "Girl, you're part of the squad that has half its members constantly getting into trouble with the X-Men. Everyone knows who you are. Some of us also think you're cursed."

Roxy goes on to say that's not why she's here. She's been watching Cessily, not in a creepy way, she thinks she's really cool, and she wants to take her to the dance. 

Cessily is excitedly and wiggly over the fact that Roxy Freaking Washington wants to go out with her and instantly says yes. 

CESSILY: "Bye, Surge!"

Cess leaps up, hooks her arm around Roxy's, and walks off with her. 

Noriko sighs. 

NORIKO: "Well Soo, just you and me."

Dust proceeds to fly off without another word. 

SURGE "You guys suck."

Noriko falls out of her chair. 

Cyclops walks deeper into the factor with Stryker, who desired privacy away from Emma. He tells him that he wasn’t always a reverend. He has raised to be a man of God, but after an unpleasant childhood, he lost his faith. He became a soldier, serving his country instead of his lord. A childish mistake, but he doesn’t regret the “good” he did. 

STRYKER: “And when I was finished serving overseas…I fell in love.” 

We flashback to the events Stryker describes, as he tells Scott how he met his beloved Marcy after moving into the apartment across the hall from her, and they instantly fell in love. She was a good, Christian woman, she was brilliant, and she could make him smile. They were inseparable and, for the first time in his life, he was truly happy. 

It wasn’t long before they were married and had their first child, Jason. Marcy had helped him regain his faith, and he’d found a new purpose in working at his local church. Things should have been perfect.

 STRYKER: “But then…they fell victim to the same curse you have.” 

Back at the school, the dance has begun! Laura is extremely stiff and uncomfortable as she walks Sofia, who’s hanging off her arm, into the gym. Sofia tells her to relax and that tonight is just about having fun. 

LAURA: “Right. Yes. Fun. I can have that now.” 

 Bling!, dressed in a full tuxedo, is cool as a cucumber as she twirls Cessily around on the dance floor, the infatuated Mercury being metaphorical and somewhat literal putty in her hands. 

Brian is sulking in a corner drinking punch. A poorly dressed kid with glasses and short brown hair walks up to him and asks if he’s got room for one more in the loser corner. Brian shrugs. 

Julian looks like he’s having the time of his life as he dances with a recurring background girl. 

Noriko is working the punch table with Dani, venting about how she expects it from humans, but how could everyone here be so shallow as to not ask her out just because of her gauntlets? What other reason could there POSSIBLY be for her to not get asked out?! 

DANI, smiling knowingly: “No idea, Surge. No idea.” 

Dust, who isn’t dressed up at all, is welcoming Kitty, Storm, and Jean home. Storm picks up on how uncomfortable Sooraya already is here, and offers to take her outside, while Kitty heads out onto the dance floor to show these kids what real dancing looks like, and Jean contacts Scott telepathically to ask him how the mission is going. Being stuck alone with Emma can’t be fun. 

In the factory, Scott responds to her that Emma would be preferable to who he’s stuck with right now. 

Stryker continues to spin Scott his story. He was just living his ideal, suburban life, happily removed from the violence of his past, when something horrible happened: his son’s hands turned purple. They immediately took him to the doctor, only for their tests to reveal that he had a “so-called X-gene”. The doctor prattled on upon the fake science he knew, but Stryker as a clergyman knew better; he knew that “Mutants” were just humans who’d been touched by the devil and tainted with his evil. 

STRYKER: “I wasn’t sure what to do, Cyclops. I was terrified. Not for myself, but for my poor boy, and the danger his existence now put my beloved wife in. I prayed for him, oh, how I prayed for him, but that didn’t let me sleep better each night. On the rare occasion I actually could fall asleep, my dreams were haunted by the terrors of what my son, my Jason, could one day do.” 

Stryker clenches his fists and tears up. 

STRYKER: “And then, a couple weeks later, my wife sneezed. And bubbles came out. Bubbles, Cyclops! Human beings do not sneeze bubbles!” He slams his fist down on a safety railing. “Before then, she’d agreed with all my words. She’d agreed with my concern for our son. But now that she was one of them, one of you, she told me that I was wrong, and that she felt completely normal; she said that nothing was wrong with her or Jason. That…that was when I knew my wife was gone. That was when I knew how being a Mutant twisted the mind.” 

Stryker grins manically as tears stream down his face. 

STRYKER: “Don’t you see, Cyclops? I had no choice!” 

CYCLOPS: “No choice to do what?” 

STRYKER: “To save them! To grant them salvation, and keep them from spreading sin everywhere they went! Marcy was a holy woman! It’s what she would have wanted!” 

This is enough to even mildly surprise Scott. 

CYCLOPS: “You killed them.” 

We flashback quickly to the murders. 

STRYKER: “Yes. And if their souls managed to reach Heaven, I know that they are grateful. I know that they are looking down on me, rooting for me to do the same to all of you. And I know that, soon, all of you will be grateful to me as well.” 

Scott scowls at Stryker as the reverend nods. 

At the dance, Kitty and Kurt are engaged in an intense dance battle, the two taunting each other as Kitty phases through Kurt and Kurt teleports onto her shoulders. They’re arguing over who’s the best dancer here, but all the kids watching them find them both to be extremely cringe. 

PIXIE: “So not tidy.” 

Sofia and Laura are dancing together, and it’s by far the happiest and most at ease Laura we’ve ever seen. Sofia smiles at her and tells her she likes this side of her. 

LAURA: “Being here…being with you…I’m not miserable all the time.” 

Sofia giggles, apologizing again for that past interaction. She really is glad she said yes to coming with her tonight; she’s having a lot of fun. 

SOFIA: “Would you mind getting me some punch?” 

Laura eagerly gets right to it, but, thanks to her hearing, she picks up on Sofia sighing. Turning her head around, she catches Sofia witsfully watching Julian and his date. 

NORI: “You alright, Laura?” 

Laura crushes the cup of punch she’d just gotten in her hand. It doesn’t take long for Noriko to notice why. 

NORIKO: “Oh, that son of a…” 

Noriko super speeds off, causing the punchbowl to spill all over Danielle. 

All Laura says is “Sorry” in a gravely tone before walking off, Dani cursing under her breath.  

In the corner, Brian and the other kid are on their phones. Cessily, in a panic, comes running up to them, asking if they’ve seen Roxy. She said she was going to the bathroom 20 minutes ago and hasn’t come back. 

BRIAN: “Uh, have you tried looking in the bathroom, Cess?” 

CESSILY: “Obviously! Oh god, you don’t think she’d ditch me, do you?” 

NERDY KID: “Of course she would. It’s what “cool girls” like her are best at.” 

Cessily runs off in a panic. 

Brian tells him that wasn’t cool, but the kid just tells him it’s the way it is. The primitive social ladders which define high school, which define life, haven’t changed in over a hundred years. 

Brian tells him this school isn’t like that, but the nerdy kid then questions why Julian didn’t agree to go out with him. 

BRIAN: “How do you–” 

“You’re the freak squad. People talk.” 

BRIAN, even more depressed: “Maybe he’s just straight.” 

“Or maybe he sees you as a convenient friend and follower, even if he doesn’t acknowledge you as the same species.”

The nerdy kid pulls up something on his phone. 

“You should check out my blog. It’s all about this. Quentinquire.org.” 

Scott asks Stryker what exactly it is he wants here. The leader of the X-Men’s approval to genocide his race? Stryker shakes his head. No, no, no. That’s not it. He knows he’ll never “approve”. He just wants him to understand. He wants him to see that, at the end of the day, he’s helping them. He knows he is. 

We flashback one final time to right after the Stryker killed his family. Traumatized and on the floor, Stryker’s hands shook, but that didn’t stop him from putting his gun to head, intent on shooting himself. But then, God spoke to him. He thanked him for his selfless deed. He had proven himself worthy of leading his crusade on Earth. 

In the present, as sweat drips down Stryker’s face, Scott smirks. 

SCOTT: “No. That’s not what you want. You’ve already tried to hurt and kill countless Mutants. You don’t care what I think about that.” Scott steps toward Stryker, reverend holding up the dead man’s switch as he cringes and backs away. “You murdered your wife and child based on your faith. And you’re only alive now because you heard God’s voice. But my wife kicked your god’s ass. And now you’re wondering if you’ve been played.” 

STRYKER: “No! No, you’re wrong! I know the God I serve!” 

SCOTT: “No. You don’t. That’s why you want to hear me approve of your crimes. Because if I don’t? Then you may just be a crazy man who killed his family and got played by a telepath.” 

STRYKER: “Quiet!!!” 

SCOTT: “Or what? You’ll kill us both? Not doing anything to change my mind.” 

Stryker shouts at Scott again, holding up the dead man’s switch. Scott tells him it’s time to end this, but not by blowing himself up. He can’t speak for any god, but he’s sure if they could ask Marcy and Jason what they’d want him to do, they’d say to turn himself in. 

Scott slowly moves closer to Stryker, hoping to disarm him…but Stryker’s grin returns as he catches Scott off guard, dropping the dead man’s switch and striking him across the face with the hand which had been holding it. 

Scott panics as Stryker cackles. Scott sighs that it wasn’t real, but Stryker corrects him: it wasn’t set to blow up any bombs in the Sentinels; it was set to activate the Sentinels. 

The factory starts rumbling, Scott and Stryker grabbing the railing to keep their balance, and the booming sounds of the sentinels turning on echo through the whole building. 

EMMA, telepathically: “Mr. Summers, we have a little problem.” 

SCOTT, telepathically: “I know. I’m on my way.” 

Scott turns around to run off to help Emma, but, out of the corner of his eye, he notices Stryker pulling out a gun, reacting just in time to blast it out of his hands. Even still Stryker makes it clear that if Cyclops won’t give him what he wants, then he will kill him personally, while his sentinels kill his white witch. 

At the school, Dazzler finishes a song. As everyone applauds, Jean gets up on stage, hyping her up, and telling everyone the night isn’t over yet, but it is almost time to announce the dance’s king and queen. First though, she wants to make a quick speech. Jean’s speech primarily takes place in the background as we cut to other events, but we do hear enough clearly to get that the general idea of the speech is about how everyone here may come from different walks of life, but they’re united in the thing that makes them special and, in spite of their differences, she’s gotten to see them all come together as friends and classmates this semester. 

JEAN: “As long as we all stick together, we have nothing to fear.” 

While this speech is going on, Sofia finds Laura, having been worried where she went. Laura tells her not to act like she cares. She knows who Sofia really wishes she were here with. 

Sofia hangs her head. 

SOFIA: “I’m sorry.” 

Elsewhere in the gym, Noriko shoves Julian, asking his date, Preview , to give them some privacy. Julian asks what Ashida’s problem is, with her getting in his face and shouting at him that he’s such an idiot. He’s been chasing after Sofia all semester, and now he’s just giving up? 

Julian shoves her away. Sofia said no, and, yeah, he hates that, but he’s not gonna dwell on it. It is what it is. She wanted to go with Laura, not him, and he’s happy for her. Besides, what does Noriko care? Shouldn’t she be happy they aren’t getting together? 

Noriko swears in Japanese before slamming her hands on the sides of Julian’s head. 

NORIKO: “Julian Keller, read my lips: Sofia doesn’t like girls!” 

JULIAN: “Wh…what?” 

NORIKO: “She wanted to go with you, you dumbass. She’s only here with Laura because she’s afraid you may bring out the worst in her, and because she’s too sweet to say “No” to Laura’s puppy eyes.” 

JULIAN: “They are pretty big.” 

Noriko slaps him, and points over at Sofia and Laura. 

NORIKO: “Do they look like they’re having a good time? Are you having a good time? No. So now that you know what her problem is, fix it!” 

Julian knocks Nori back with his TK, growling at her to stay out of this, before hanging his head and sighing. He’s just not sure what he’s supposed to do. 

“Whatever you have to.” 

Brian walks up to the two. 

BRIAN: “That’s what Ms. Frost is always telling us about getting what we want, right?” 

JULIAN: “Brian…” 

BRIAN: “Hey, don’t worry about earlier. It’s chill. People like you and Sofia? You deserve each other. So go get her.” 

Julian continues to hang his head, before finally picking it up and donning his cocky shithead smirk. 

JULIAN: “Okay. I have an idea. Where’s Cess? She’s not gonna want to miss this.” 

We cut to Cessily, alone, crying in her room. 

In the factory, Scott and Emma struggle against Stryker and the sentinels, respectively, as Stryker proves to be more than a match for Cyclops in hand-to-hand combat, while Emma, despite her multiple, incredible powers, is overwhelmed by the murder machines thanks to their great number and refusal to stay down. 

STRYKER: “Do you think I want to be doing this?! I was happy! I was at peace! But then your ilk came into my life, and when God called upon me, I had no choice but to answer!” 

Eventually, Stryker manages to remove Scott’s visor, and without his optic blasts, the fight completely turns in Stryker’s favor. He gets Cyclops pinned on the floor, and just starts whaling on him, bloodying his fists with each strike across Scott’s face. He tried to make him see reason! He tried to respect him as the leader of his people and offer him peace in death! But just like Marcy, he’s too far gone for that. 

Unable to open his eyes without killing Stryker, and unable to get the reverand off of him, Scott is seemingly helpless. He’s too weak. 

STRYKER: “Come on, Cyclops! Stop holding back! Show me the demon inside you! Confess your sins before the Representative of God!” 

Scott only clenches his eyes shut further. No matter what, he cannot open them. 

EMMA, telepathically: “My father was a monster and my mother was a drunk.” 

SCOTT, telepathically: “Huh?” 

EMMA: “You wanted to know what hardships I’ve faced since I was 16. My horrid parents plagued me until I was 17 and broke away from them. Likewise my older sister, who was born without a heart, my younger sister, who’s never been anything but trouble, and my high school tormentors, all of whom sought to make sure each and every day of my life was a living Hell. The only bright spots in my life before I left that house were my brother, and the knowledge which came only after my X-gene developed fully that it was why, if nothing else, I’d been able to live as my true self. Winston Frost hated Mutants, but there were people he hated more.” 

As this conversation goes on, Scott continues to get beaten, and Emma continues her hopeless battle against the sentinels, doing everything she can to survive and keep them at bay. Interspersed with this, we flashback to what Emma is describing. 

EMMA: “I was offered inheritance of the entire family fortune after finishing high school, but I refused to be tied to that man any longer. It was freeing, but the end result was four years of scrubbing toilets and taking any other menial, backbreaking jobs I could get to pay my way through college. And even after graduation, with my family having disowned me, I was nothing but another girl with a business degree and no connections. So I had to get creative…” 

The flashback we see is one of a 21 year-old Emma stripping beautifully before an audiance. 

EMMA: “I’d tried my hand at stripping before and I’d failed miserably. But with how I’d trained my telepathy, tricking drooling men into believing I was the most incredible performer they’d ever seen was hardly a challenge. Of course, one man was able to see through my illusion. 

Backstage, Emma is smashed face first into a mirror. 

We cut back to the present. 

EMMA: “But that’s a story for another time.” 

Scott questions why she’s telling him all of this. She answers that she was simply doing what he requested in exchange for answering her question. 

Now, where does he see himself in ten years? Is he going to die here? Can he see himself leading Mutantkind to a brighter tomorrow? And is he willing to do whatever it takes to make that a reality? 

EMMA: “I’m already doing everything I can. Our fates, all our fates, are in your hands now, Mr. Summers. What are you going to–?”

Emma is cut off, finally being shot down and neutralized. 

Panic and rage takeover Scott’s bloody mess of a face. Stryker cackles. 

STRYKER: “This is pathetic! You are a monster! Quit acting so self-righteous and act like one! Show me your true eyes, show me the eyes of the beast, and let me face their evil head on before I finish this, and move on to exterminating your entire damned–”

Stryker is cut off as the sound cuts off, a tear drips down Scott’s cheek, Stryker’s malicious smirk shifts toward peaceful relief, and while we can’t hear him, Scott screams, and red consumes the screen. 

Emma is about to be finished off as the sound of Cyclops’ full power echoes through the factory, before the man himself arrives on the scene, a wave of red energy eviserating every last sentinel. 

Emma is in absolute awe as she watches this display of power. And for another reason. 

When all that’s left of the walking death camps is scrap metal, Scott closes his eyes, takes deep breaths, and puts his visor back on. 

He hops down to the lower level to offer Emma a hand. 

EMMA: “Thank you…Mr. Summers. That was something I wasn’t aware you had inside you. Where is Stryker?” 

Scott hangs his head and clenches his fists. 

Emma smirks. 

EMMA: “Please, darling, don’t tell me you feel bad about this. If there was any man who deserved this fate, it was him.” 

CYCLOPS: “That’s the thing.” 

Scott looks up and scowls at Emma. 

CYCLOPS: “I feel great.” 

Emma’s smirk becomes a more gentle smile as she places a hand on the side of his face. 

CYCLOPS: “We should get home.” 

EMMA: “We should. My hero needs his reward after all.” 

Scott brushes her off and stomps away. 

Back in her room, Cessily is still crying. She’s still alone, until someone knocks on her door. She goes to answer, and on the other side is Bling!. Cessily questions if laughing at her with her friends wasn’t enough and now she wants to laugh at her face to face…before Roxy steps aside so she doesn’t vomit all over Cessily. 

Cessily asks if she’s okay, and Roxy nervously  laughs. Turns out she got food poisoning earlier, and when she realized she wasn’t gonna be alright for a while, she ran off on her own so Cessily didn’t find out. 

ROXY: “I…didn’t want you to think I wasn’t cool.” 

But, Cessily had been texting Dust, Roxy ran into her, and, when she found out Cessily was crying, she knew she had to apologize. She’s so sorry she left. This was stupid. 

Cessily laughs. Yes. It was. And a massive bitch move. But the dumbest part is thinking she wouldn’t think she’s cool just because she ate a bad egg or something. She’s Roxy freaking Washington! Did she not notice how she was all over her all night? 

CESSILY: “I just was so worried, even before you ditched me, that you wouldn’t like me. No one’s like me that way since, you know…” 

Roxy smirks, taking Cessily’s hands. 

ROXY: “Since you became a girl of metal? Cessily Kincaid, I’ve been looking for another one of those since I was nine years-old.” 

CESSILY: “R…really?” 

ROXY: “Really. And if you’ll let me take you back to the gym for the last couple dances, I’d love to show you how sorry I am, and how much I’ve been waiting for you.” 

Cessily’s face squirms with uncertainty, before she ultimately squees, running off with Roxy. 

CESSILY: “Never ditch me again!” 

ROXY: “Count on it.” 

As Jean finishes her speech and is about to announce the king and queen of the dance, Julian flies onto the stage and takes the mic. 

JULIAN: “Everyone listen up!” 

JEAN, telepathically: “Mr. Keller, what do you think you’re doing?” 

JULIAN, telepathically: “Come on, you’re about to crown me king, aren’t you? Call it starting my speech early.” 

Jean sighs and shakes her head. 

JEAN, telepathically: “Proceed.” 

While Noriko and Brian are looking at him hoping he pulls this off, Sofia and Laura are concerned and confused. 

Julian tells everyone that knows they’ve been watching him and his squad these past few months. And why wouldn’t they? They’re obviously the best Mutants here! Their kickass TA is already an X-Man, and there’s no one scarier - in a good way. 

Laura snort laughs. 

Sooraya doesn’t even like fighting, but she could take anyone here! Cessily has more spirit than anyone he’s ever met! 

Cessily and Roxy walk in as he’s saying this. 

ROXY: “Uh, what’s going on here?” 

CESSILY, smiling: “Julian being Julian.” 

And Brian? Brian is the best friend a guy could ever ask for. 

Brian smiles with acceptance, as Julian then says that Noriko may be a loser, but they care about her anyway, prompting Nori to flip him off. 

JULIAN: “And Sofia? Well, we ALL love her, right? Let’s hear it!” 

Sofia is bashful as the whole gym cheers her on. 

JULIAN: “That’s right! You know all who the best of the best are! That’s why you’re about to put crowns on our heads! And that’s why, before we graduate, the two of us are going to be X-Men!” 

The whole gym continues to cheer as Sofia starts to both soak it in, and realize what Julian is doing. 

Julian says he knows Sofia has doubts about herself, about him, but the only future he sees for them is kicking ass together and saving the day as the best heroes this world’s ever seen. He knows he’s a jerk, but she knows he’s more than that. And he’s seen her at worst, and can still only see her as perfection. 

JULIAN: “Come on, Beautiful. Give it a chance. Please.” 

Everyone is cheering on Sofia to get up there, and the look on Sofia’s face makes it clear Julian’s words have reached her. Even still…

LAURA: “Go.” Sofia turns to her with remorse.  “I’ve been hurt worse before.” 

As Laura hangs her head, Sofia gives her a big hug. 

SOFIA: “I am sorry I cannot feel how you want me to feel, but I do care about you Laura. A lot.” Sofia pulls back. “I’m taking you shopping over break. You need less black in your closet.” 

LAURA: “That…sounds awful. But okay.” 

With Laura at peace, Sofia flies toward the stage. Julian is holding his arms out open for her, but she slaps him. 

SOFIA, smirking: “No more big, public displays of affection like this. They’re already tiring.” 

JULIAN laughs. “Deal.” 

The two take hold of each other and share their first kiss, the cheers reaching their peak, as Jean seizes the moment to properly announce them as the dance’s king and queen. 

Inspired by the moment, Mercury kisses Bling! Both girls are sufficiently awkward about it and giggle. 

As the dancing resumes, Julian and Sofia finally get to dance, and Mercury and Bling! pick up where they left off. 

Laura is left all alone, watching Julian and Sofia, but…

BRIAN: “Who needs the hets, right?” 

Brian, smirking, offers a hand to Laura. 

Laura shrugs with a smirk of her own. 

Brian and Laura take the dance floor together. 

Noriko sighs, happy she was at least able to help her friend, but she’s still got no one. 

Then, a short, porcupine looking kid named Quill walks up to her and asks if she’d want to dance. 

Nori takes the kid’s hand and makes clear she’s leading. 

We pan away from the dance with everyone at peace. 

In the middle of the night, Scott and Emma arrive back at the institute, having missed the dance, with everyone having gone to sleep. Scott told Jean they were on their way home, and the mission was completed, but he didn’t give the important details. 

Emma asks if he’ll be taking credit for his noble deed tonight, or if he’d like her to “take the blame”, so “pure, holy Jean” doesn’t get mad at him. 

Scott says there was nothing “noble” about what he did. He’s going to make clear to Jean that he knows that, and hope she forgives him given the circumstances. The fact that it made him feel so good, making sure that monster would never hurt anyone again, is wrong. 

EMMA: “Feelings are never “wrong”, Mr. Summers. They’re who we are. Good or bad, you can embrace those feelings, or you can repress them because an old man who groomed you to be his weapon told you how to feel.” 

SCOTT: “I’ve told you not to insult Xavier.” 

EMMA: “And I’ve told you I can see right through you. I’ve told you I know there’s someone so much more real underneath that stiff facade of yours. Tonight, I got a glimpse of that man. And I’ll be damned if I don’t get to thank him.” 

SCOTT: “Emma, you–”

Emma cuts Scott off, grabbing the sides of his head and kissing him. Just like when Mystique kissed him disguised as Emma, he kisses back for a moment before pushing her away. Only this time, he’s not falling over, he has Emma excitedly grinning at him and tossing off her cape…and he knows what he needs. 

Scott pulls Emma into his arms and passionately makes out with her. 

We cut to the next morning. Scott and Emma are in Emma’s bed, passed out, naked and tied up in silk sheets. 

Out in the hall, Jean is looking for Scott. She can sense him somewhere around here. 

JEAN: “Are you making me breakfast again you big sweetie?” 

Jean knocks on Emma’s door, asking what happened last night and if she knows why Scott didn’t come to bed after getting home. 

As she asks, Scott and Emma wake up, the former in horror at what he’s done, and Emma moaning and squirming around in pleasure. 

JEAN: “...Scott?” 

Jean forces Emma’s door open and sees the two in bed together. 

EMMA: “Oh! Hello Jean, darling. Care to join us?” 

SCOTT: “Jean…I…let me explain. I…”

As Scott struggles to find the right words, Jean sheds a tear. And as the tear goes down her cheek, it becomes a flame. 

Jean screams at the top of her lungs as the full Phoenix aura emerges around her, and she psychically shuts down Scott and Emma’s brains, rendering them both catatonic. 

Outside the school, a small group of the remaining Purifers burst onto the front lawn, determined to avenge their fallen leader. 

As they charge forward, the door is opened by Jean. 

PURIFER: “Die, demon!” 

Every Purifer present tries to shoot her down with their machine guns, but Jean stops every single bullet, dropping them to the ground. 

Jean tilts her head to the left. In an instant, all of the present Purifers explode, leaving only blood and gore behind. Jean flies off as she screeches like the Phoenix. 

[yubellia]

Reborn as Lila Rossi: The Fox and the caterpillar (chapter three): A new team

Hi! Welcome to chapter three. I know the last one was anticlimactic at best. However this one will be longer. So enjoy.

„Bla bla bla“

(Think think)

„Volpina OR Trixx speaking“

„Ladybug OR Tikki speaking“

„Chat Noir OR Plagg speaking“

„Hawk Moth OR Nooroo speaking“

„Akumatized person speaking.“

——————————————————

Marinette‘s pov (the morning after Mr. Pigeon attacked the city):

Marinette was woken up in the morning by Tikki who looked unsure but also excited. „So…. let me get this straight. This giant bread yesterday was an illusion. Like you already suspected. And it was created by the fox miraculous.“ Marinette was busy organizing her school supplies while saying that. „Yes. We did not talk about this before so far but you must know that the your miraculous was given to you. It did not just appear in your bag. It’s the same here. The master did not go into too much detail. However, he said that this new miraculous user earned it and that we can trust her. Also I am supposed to lead you to him soon.“ Marinette was not convinced by this. „But why did she not show herself to us? Or come to us after that? And what did you say about us meeting her later?“ Tikki flew over to the table. Last night Master Fu came to them to talk to Tikki. He wrote down an address for a meeting. „Master said she feared that you could see her as an enemy. That’s why she asked the master to approach both me and Plagg first, so that we can tell you and Chat Noir about this. To break the ice.“ Marinette took the piece of paper. It was outside of town. The factory area. „Ok. If the person who gave me and Chat Noir the miraculous, then we should at least hear what she has to say. What did you say is her Name?“ Marinette was ready for school. After that, they would meet this new hero. Tikki, like always flew into her purse. „She calls herself Volpina.“

In school:

It was a mostly normal day at school. I greeted Alya, Nino, Adrien and Marinette. We pretty much were together for most of the day. It was during lunch when more students joined us. Rose sat next to me and started to question me. „Hey Lila? Since you are from Italy, why did you move here? Moving to a different country sound difficult.“ (ok. Here we go. Stick to your story.) I put a sad smile on my face. „Well, my mother works for the Italian embassy. Not the first time I have to move. You get used to it.“ That got me some concerned and sympathetic looks from my classmates. Those on the desk next to us are listening too. Juleka, who sat next to Rose spoke up now. „And your farther? Isn’t this difficult for him too?“ (ok. Time to expand my story.) „My parents are divorced. I haven’t seen him since I was five years old I think.“ This got me more sympathy from those around me. Rose looked a little guilty. „Oh. I‘m sorry Lila. I did not want to bring up any bad memories.“ Alya joined in now as well. „That must have been pretty hard. It sounds like you have been alone a lot.“

Alya sat next to Marinette and I made sure not to say too much. I can‘t have Marinette think anything bad about me. Not yet. However she had the same look of sympathy on her face as the others. „Sometimes. But I saw some pretty places. I admit that going to school was not always easy but Mom promised that this time, we would be staying. And Rose? Don‘t feel bad ok? I am over it. No bad memories.“ Everything seemed fine after that. I just saw Chloe and Sabrina sitting on another table. Chloe did not look too happy. (I wonder what’s going on in her head.)

To make sure Trixx stayed close, I started to wear a bag around my hip with a belt. Unfortunately this is necessary. If I remember correctly, Chloe has no problem taking other people’s stuff. Marinette‘s diary being proof of that.

I spend the rest of the day close to Marinette and the others. Mostly to make sure that they did not think anything bad about me. If someone asked why I did that, I could just say that it’s my second day and I just thought they were nice. Alya talked a little about what happened yesterday. It seems that many people are wondering where that giant bread came from. At least a video Alya showed us said so. Alya started to come up with theories. Asking if maybe this was a new power ladybug got. Or maybe it was supposed to be a distraction from Hawk Moth. Marinette just patted her shoulder, getting a little nervous. „I am sure, whatever it is, Ladybug and Chat Noir will deal with it. If it is something serious, maybe they will warn us about it.“ Alya got that spark in her eyes. „Oh I hope I can talk to Ladybug the next time something happens! The people of Paris have to know the truth if it is something dangerous!“

And there we go. Marinette dug herself a little hole there. Now she has no choice but to give Alya an interview for that blog of hers. Well that’s her problem. Not mine. I try to think of how to approach Ladybug and Chat Noir later. Master Fu did tell them about me. But I can’t know how they react. While I am thinking, Alya tries to get my attention. „Lila? Any plans for today? I could show you Paris a little. And tell you about all the things Ladybug did so far.“ I smile. I am sure she means well but the two of us surely won‘t become best friends. „Sorry Alya. I am still not done unpacking and I am still trying to catch up with everything at school. Maybe another day?“ Alya looks like I told her something obvious. Like I just said that the earth is round. „Oh yeah. Right. It’s not like you moved here a month ago. But we have to hang out eventually!“ I agree with her. Mostly to shut her up.

While I am rushing home, I start to wonder why Chloe seems so quiet today. I am sure that she must be planning something. Maybe a nasty prank. Or she could be having trouble herself.

Once I reach my room, I let Trixx out of my bag and hand him some grapes. I made sure my mother really is gone. Not much of a surprise. „Ready for your meeting with Ladybug and Chat Noir? You have been thinking about it since yesterday.“ „Yes. I think I will not approach them too directly. I probably should be as honest as I can and don‘t tell them too much.“ After I put my schoolbooks down and pack some grapes in a small lunchbox, I decided that it’s time to leave.

„Ok Trixx. Time to go.“ Trixx goes back into my bag and I write a note to my mother. Just in case, that she does come back early.

I decided that I would not just transform and rush to the place we planned to meet each other. Instead I use the buses to look normal. I only transformed after I arrived close to where we would meet and after I made sure to have a safe spot where nobody could see me. „Trixx! Let’s pounce!“

Close to an abandoned warehouse

I hide behind some boxes and only hear the voices of Ladybug and Chat Noir approaching. „Soooo… what do you think this Volpina will be like my lady?“ I did not have to see them to know that Ladybug rolled her eyes at that. „If we knew, we would not be here. Instead we could meet like normal people. Our Kwamis claim that we should be able to trust her so that is all we have now.“

I took that as my signal to come out behind them.

„Cautious as always Ladybug. Very good.“ Both of them turned around abruptly and looked me up and down. I did not need them to ask. Instead I just introduced myself. „I am Volpina. Your new comrade and wielder of the fox miraculous. It’s a pleasure to meet you.“ since I had my normal grown up body, both of them had to look up to me a little. „So… if you helped us yesterday, why did you not show yourself right away?“

I saw some questions coming but I thought their kwamis told them already. „Because the timing could not have been worse. It would have been pretty suspicious if I showed up just like that. Wouldn’t it? Also my power of illusions is not as offensive as yours. I have a flute as a weapon and I’m still trying to figure out close combat. I decided that it would be better to meet you in privat. That and you need to meet the master sooner or later anyway. Also, I have something that you don‘t. Good enough as an answer?“

Ladybug stepped closer now and I saw that she still hat questions. „What exactly is it that we lack in your opinion? Information? Power? We did pretty well so far without it.“ Ups. Looks like I struck a nerve. „Don‘t take that as an insult. I am talking about the fact, that Hawk Moth has been playing pretty ‚fair‘ so far. Let me explain. I am talking about the timer. You use your power once and in five minutes after that, you transform back. Hawk Moth does not do that and I don‘t do it either. Did your Kwamis tell you why?“ Ladybug calmed down a little. It was Chat Noir who took this next question.

„isn’t that for our protection? That’s what Plagg said at least. I thought that’s just how it works.“ I shake my head and start walking to the warehouse. „That’s where you are wrong. It is normal for you, because you are young. Adults like Hawk Moth or myself don‘t have to do that. We also can use our power more than once. Turning back after using your power is a mechanism to protect younger miraculous users. And to make sure you don‘t misuse or abuse that power. Once you are an adult, not necessarily physically but also mentally, that will no longer be a problem. You will be able to use your powers multiple times. You know what I mean with that?“

Ladybug had a moment of realization which left her kind of depressed. „So what you are saying is, that Hawk Moth could do much more and much worse if he wanted to? Is there no way to work around this?“ Now it’s my turn to shake my head. „So far? No. This mechanism is supposed to protect you because the miraculous pulls energy from our kwamis and us. People who are too young to handle that are supposed to be protected by that. That’s why you could need any help you can get. Hawk Moth has been patient before but in theory, there is nothing stopping him from akumatizing more than one person. I belief that he will grow inpatient sooner or later.“

I decided not to tell them about how to turn the timer off. It would include using their powers for bad things or selfishly, so they probably won‘t get that idea on their own. They will get their power sooner or later. „So Hawk Moth could launch a big attack any day and we would be forced to take breaks? There is nothing we can do to help these people?“ I smile at them but shake my head again. „Not yet. Thats why you need help. Someone to buy you some time. That is also why I did not reveal myself yesterday. If Hawk Moth knew you have someone that won’t transform back, it might push him to become more aggressive in what he is doing.“

Not really a lie but not quite the truth either. I could tell Ladybug about her creation power but where would be the fun in that? It would only be a disadvantage for me in the end.

While the mood was at its lowest, we heard a loud rumbling back in the town and a cloud of smoke. „And it sounds like Hawk Moth is working extra hours this week. We should go.“

We hurry to get back to the center of of the City.

Ladybug and Chat Noir go ahead while I stay behind. Paris gets overrunning plants. The other day, our *wonderful* mayor had the idea to destroy an area with gardens you can rent. Why? Because he had this idea for new buildings. Of course he did not consult anyone for this. Like always. One of the people who would loose their garden for this is Hawk Moths new follower.

„The tyranny of humans ends today! Surrender Ladybug and Chat Noir! I am MotherNature! First I’ll take revenge on this good for nothing mayor, than I take your miraculous and than I’ll change the world!“

At her command, giant vines spread through the streets. Ladybug and Chat Noir stayed on the rooftops. The Mayor got trapped in a cocoon of vines, while MotherNature laughed.

„This is horrible! The moment we deal with one vine, at least ten will follow! What do we do?“

Taking a closer look, MotherNatures plants did not come out of nowhere. Hawk Moth did not give her the power to make new plants. Just the power to control plants that already exist.

„I think I know. We need poison to deal with these plants. Burning them is out of the question. Ladybug, focus. You might think that your lucky charm gives you a random object, but you can influence what you get. Focus on something that can destroy these plants. Or maybe something that helps us get Chat Noir to the main plant. He can destroy it than.“

Ladybug nodded and looks at her Jo-jo. It looks like she was uncertain but than she collects herself.

„Lucky Charm!“

A swarm of ladybugs came out of the Jo-jo and formed three bottles. Each of us caught one. „I hope there is something in here that helps us.“

I got an idea. Ladybugs Timer was ticking now. We need to hurry. „Let’s split up. I go get mister Bourgeois and you go for MotherNature.“

Both of them knew that they had to hurry. They nodded and went to confront MotherNature and find her Akuma. I meanwhile stayed hidden and took out my flute. (I only should be able to create illusions but maybe if I push harder, I can do more. Nobody knew about Ladybugs protection charms. Until she tried it that is.) So I started playing and playing and playing. I kept playing and the light at the end grew brighter. I stopped and directed it at myself „Mirage!“ I kept my eyes closed for a moment but when I opened them, I could mostly see through myself. Not completely but close enough if you don‘t look for me. (The illusion of invisibility. Good enough.)

I started to approach the cocoon that holds mister bourgeois captive. I did not use the poison since I would need it and did not want to draw much attention. I heard MotherNature screaming and saw Ladybug using the bottle on some plants. As I jumped over the rooftops, trying to get closer, I noticed that so far, the illusion did not disappear. Despite me touching stuff.

With one final jump, I landed on the cocoon. The plant shifted and anotherNature looked in my direction for a moment but Chat Noir distracted her.

Carefully, I started pouring the liquid on the cocoon. The vines turned dark and smoke appeared. After a moment, i saw mister Bourgeois face. Not seeing anything, he got scared and wanted to scream but i put my hand over his mouth. The illusion stayed stable and I whispered to him. „Don‘t be scared sir. I get you out of here. Just stay quiet.“ he nodded and I removed my hand. I started to pour the liquid over the vines that hold him. The mayor spoke in a scared hushed voice. „Are you a hero too?“ realizing that he can‘t see me nodding, I had to speak again. „Yes sir. I work with ladybug. But no one can know. So forgive me for not telling you my name.“ the last vine came off and I grabbed mayor bourgeois to pull him out and get him down.

The air smelled terrible by now because of the plants and the poison we use to kill them. I took him across the rooftops and than down to the ground. While doing that, I heard MotherNature scream again. This time in anger. She must have noticed that the mayor is gone.

I hurried back to Ladybug and Chat Noir. „Where is her Akuma?“ Both were surprised but did not question it.

„We think it is in her bouquet. She uses it to control the plants. Let’s attack together and than you can use the bottle to destroy it.“

We start one more frontal attack and i sneak around to get her from the side. Ladybug and Chat Noir use what is left to distract her, so that I can snatch her bouquet away. „No! Give that back whoever you are!“

I ripped the bouquet apart and the Akuma appeared. Ladybug started use her Jo-jo again. „Time to de evilize!“

The butterfly was caught and released after it was purified. „Bye bye little butterfly.“ Chat Noir and I came closer to give our bottles to Ladybug. She took the lucky charms and threw them up in the air. „Miraculous Ladybug!“ A giant swarm of ladybugs spreads out across Paris and fixes everything. The plants are gone and MotherNature turned back into who she was. Indeed a lady who owns one of these gardens that were supposed to be destroyed. The air was also purified and the bad smell was gone.

I left before anyone could ask questions. My illusion still in tact. Ladybug took a moment to recharge before she approached mayor Bourgeois. A few journalists gathered too. It was Alya who ignored them all and asked a question. „Ladybug! Chat Noir! How did you manage help mayor Bourgeois and fight MotherNature at the same time? And can you tell us what happened yesterday?“ Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other. Mister Bourgeois looked uncertain too. Meanwhile I stood in an alleyway, where Ladybug could see me now. I took the illusion down. I gave her a sign to keep it vague. „Well, you see, we didn’t. Since yesterday, we have help. Because of Hawk Moth, they wish to stay anonymous and we respect that. When or if they wish to reveal themselves, they will. Just know that there is someone else looking out for us all now. Ok? That big bread was them too.“

The journalists did not really look happy with that answer but did not ask any more questions.

I backed away and found a nice place to transform back before I ran home, with Trixx in my pocket. When I reached my room, I collapsed on my bed. „Ahhhh! Damn, what a day!“ looking back up, I saw Trixx floating to a plate with grapes on it. „Trixx? How are you holding up?“ Trixx ate a grape before he turned around and answered. „Depends. I am doing pretty good. Not too exhausted. But I can‘t help but wonder how you did that out there.“ I looked at him. I knew what Trixx was talking about. „Well I just pushed a little harder. I guess if you lie good enough, or keep up that facade for a long time, it can become reality. Also don‘t forget, even the guardians don‘t know everything about the miraculous or the Kwami. This gives us so many new options.“ Trixx floated back to me on the bed. „Maybe. But please be careful. Whatever it is you are planning.“

-somewhere else-

„I can‘t believe they did it again! And now they even have a new hero on their side! Just wait Ladybug and Chat Noir. You and your new friend can‘t keep fighting forever!“

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There we have it! A new chapter. Longer and with more action than the last. I hope you liked it. I am sorry for any mistakes I made while writing this.

Also, I changed the title a little. Knowing myself, I thought it would be easier if people can see something like ‚isekai story‘ right at the start.

Anyway, I hope you liked it and maybe I see you again in the next chapter.

[batsplat]

so i’m kinda new to motogp, i started watching it from this season and your account has been very helpful. i have a question, i’ve seen a post on insta where they were comparing marc and pedro results from the first race to the fifth races (i think?) in their rookie year. and a lot of people in the comments where talking about the fact that you cannot compare their results because they’re two whole different situations. but are they? ‘cause at the start of the season everybody was calling pedro the next marquez and a lot of motogp legends were talking about how talented he’s. which i’m not entitled to discuss. but if you compare the results, i wouldn’t say pedro’s season is disappointing (because it’s still early and he has two podiums), but i think it’s pehraps underwhelming compared to marc’s. so what i’m trying to understand is why are their situations considered different and why some people kind of “discredit” marc rookie season when they compare it to acosta’s? (like i thought that winning a title in you rookie year was the most impressive thing you could do)

welcome to the sport, and that's really nice to hear!!

so, I did do my 'comparing between eras is impossible' thing here, but obviously this isn't particularly useful. I'll get over myself and give you a proper answer, but fwiw I still believe that direct parallels can only ever be of limited use. here's a few things to keep in mind when comparing the two:

factory vs satellite: factory teams will always have at least a little bit of an advantage over the satellite squads. even if it's not in equipment... it's also just about the amount of resources that are being mobilised to help you get your results, the experience of your team, etc etc. now, I put this first because I don't think this is a massive factor here. ktm's whole thing is that they want to essentially run four factory bikes, see the rebrand next year, and obviously they're very motivated to help pedro out. I'm sure he's getting a lot of backing - in terms of historical comparisons, it's a bit more valentino 2000 than it is casey 2006

bike quality: the honda in 2013 was the best bike on the grid. pedro's ktm is... well it's certainly not in the top four. after that, the pecking order does get a little tricky, but it's certainly not decisively clear of either the aprilias or the gp23's. we do know pedro basically has equal machinery to the other ktm's. now, those are the first riders he has to beat... and he's beating them! going into this year, binder was getting top three rider on the grid shouts and pretty much everyone thought he'd be outscoring acosta at least in the first year (not me tho <3). I think these acosta performances have sparked a bit of a debate over 'was the ktm better than we thought all along and the riders were just being overrated, or is acosta just that good'... makes it kinda easy to forget how people talked about binder last year. but crucially even people who rated pedro very highly generally didn't think he'd have the upper hand this soon. pedro is p5 in the standings (behind three gp24's and marc marquez), versus the other ktm's at p7, p...16? jesus. and p17. marc's teammate in 2013 was p3. now, yes, nobody is saying binder is as good as dani pedrosa and he's been having a very rocky season - but at least some of binder's issues seem to be bike-related... definitely a bike that seems to have some serious gremlins and pedro needs to be credited for mitigating those. also, this is an era in which the bikes are more complicated than ever and generally considered to be even trickier to adapt to than in times past, which makes pedro's immediate consistent pace pretty much everywhere, every session particularly noteworthy

spread of field: related to the previous point - not only is pedro's bike worse, but the field as a whole is more competitive. in 2013, if you weren't on one of four bikes, it was going to be really hard for you to fight for wins. in 2024, there are a lot of bikes capable of fighting for wins, and you see that in how mixed up the order is race to race. it's just a different era... from around 2007 to 2015, there was a clear disparity between a few bikes and the rest, enabled both through technical regulations and other external factors (e.g. the impact of the financial crisis and smaller teams struggling as a result). the average level of the field is also higher nowadays, there's a lot of very strong riders - which means if you're having a slightly rougher weekend, your floor is considerably lower and you will have to accept you might not be in the podium fight at all. the margins are smaller now in both qualifying and in races... small swings of performance in both bike and rider can have way more dramatic repercussions

the eye test: for obvious reasons this one's a bit harder to put words to. but... pedro just passes it, with flying colours. it's the way he throws himself around on the bike, the obscene amounts of lean angle, the ridiculously late braking and the way he somehow still gets the bike turned, how he keeps taking lines that nobody else is taking, how it's allowing him to fight his way through the field (notoriously tough in motogp these days)... in the same way in which marc in 2013 was clearly just riding differently to all the other riders that preceded him, you see this stuff with pedro, you see he's the next step. you can tell he's just got that special something that allows him to do stuff with his bike that nobody else can. also, this isn't quite the same as rating his rookie season, but obviously everyone already knew what a hyped prospect pedro was headed into this year. he hasn't shown any sign whatsoever of succumbing to the hype/pressure and letting it get to him, which is also a great sign for the future

how good his results are: so, obviously he hasn't won a race yet - even though he's now secured multiple podiums. but again, unlike with marc''s 2013 there is no single weekend in which the ktm has been the strongest bike. sometimes it's been a bit closer and sometimes it's a little further away... yes, pedro has started making a couple of mistakes, but also that may just be the result of putting the bike in places it doesn't really belong. marc only had one race crash in the rookie season, but he also knew he couldn't afford to make mistakes - he was in the title fight. pedro is playing around with a worse bike and if he thinks he has the pace to win, it makes sense for him to just push that little bit extra, come what may. it's now been quite a few weekends since pedro hasn't decisively been the best ktm on pace - and, really, what more can you ask for? unless binder's suddenly forgotten how to ride a bike, it's reasonably likely that the ktm is at least a little worse than it was last year, which makes these results even more impressive

the rookie title question: yes, a rookie title is uniquely impressive! it's a particularly tricky situation to deal with... marc really had to be operating on a very high very consistent level that entire year, and in no way should it be diminished what kind of performances he had to put in week to week to claim that title. (though, of course, marc did get a little bit lucky that year, in particular with his rivals' injuries.) the thing is, we'll never know if pedro would manage the pressures and travails and ebbs and flows of a title fight in his rookie season as well as marc did... because he hasn't had the opportunity to fight for it. we just don't know! which makes it a bit hard to penalise pedro for not being able to match that... you just have to find a happy middle ground where you acknowledge how impressive marc's title was, while also allowing that on pure performance pedro might be shaping up as every bit as impressive

marc is very marmite in most online motogp fan spaces, whether those detractors are partisan valentino fans or think he's too aggressive for their tastes or don't particularly fondly remember his dominance or just don't like his vibe... so I'm sure there's plenty of people on instagram who would like to discredit him!! but I don't think calling pedro's rookie season comparable should in any way be used to discredit marc - the only point is that if you look at his current performances, it's completely plausible to believe he can match/surpass marc in the future. what he's doing right now is really impressive! it's not quite the same headline numbers, but there's weekends where he's quite plausibly on. like. the joint 12th best bike or something. so it really is all very tight and he is doing very well! but also you can't compare eras and all of these comparisons easily break down and sometimes you can just treat two things as separately impressive without attempting to definitively determine which is 'better', especially in motorsports where so much isn't determined by the actual athlete themselves and instead by factors they have zero control over