S1, E4 | Divided Stood the Cause of the Conquering

Seated in the same corners of the circular conference table that they’d occupied prior to the first stratum’s opening, the four racing squads sit in a shared silence with anticipation for the arrival of their guidance-offering commander. “Where’s Caesar?” Dale calls out from the end of the table, speaking toward the hairless, white coat-wearing mechanic that occupies the scientist’s position at the front of the group.

“He’s running a little late” Ellis replies, visibly preoccupied with the assortment of colour-coded folders that he lays out amongst the table’s surface, preparing them for the man who they collectively await. “Running a little late doing what?” Kurt questions from the mechanic’s right, one leg kicked up on the strand of his chair that one of its five wheels are held in place by, “we’re inside a cave, what could he possibly be getting held up by?”

“That information is something that Caesar- and only Caesar- knows” Ellis responds, flipping open the cover to one of the document-filled binders before shaking his head at the pages he finds dismissively. “I thought you were his right hand man?” Taro questions aloud, watching the shiny-headed mechanic close the folder he’d looked at with displeasure before attempting to switch it out for something more preferable.

“What gave you that impression?” Ellis retorts, passing a brief glance toward the Crew’s co-founder before returning his sights toward the assortment of portfolios at his disposal. “The fact that you’re the only one of the assistants that we know the name of” Vert replies, appreciatively accepting the silent offer of a blunt from Talia’s hand into his own.

“That’s not necessarily true” Kurt replies, rotating his chair just slightly into the direction of his Kaiyo teammate, “this woman named Ginger- who ironically enough is also a ginger- was the one that handed my car back off to me before the stratum.”

“Is she the one that fixed those dumb rocket launchers to the bottom of your car too, Kurt?” Mark questions from across the table, still bitter about the result in which their race had concluded. “I’m not sure, but I’d imagine whoever built the boosters onto my car was the same person that built them onto the rest of yours.”

“What are you talking about?” Eric questions from the corner of the table that had spent the meeting quiet thus far, curious as to the proclamation made. “They said they were upgrading our cars before Caesar pulled us into that meeting the other day” Kurt answers, speaking to the crowd that awaits answers, “don’t sit here and tell me that I was the only one who took a second to figure out what those upgrades were before we went into the stratum.”

“According to my assistants- you were” Caesar replies, overhearing the question that’s raised by Kaiyo’s second in command just as he enters the room, collecting the undivided attention of his racers. “From here on out, I would highly recommend that you keep in at least semi-consistent contact with the ‘white coats’ over any concerns or needs with your cars” the entering scientist replies, watching his right hand man step aside to free the table’s centre for the operation’s leading figure.

“Your cars have been equipped with competitive advantages that you are only to use in the event that they are necessary” Caesar restates, placing the tips of each finger against the table’s hardwood surface. “Each of your vehicles have been equipped with propulsion boosters just as Kurt’s has been” the scientist confesses, looking at the paper’s face, “in addition to those, they’ve been fitted with an assortment of other performance modifications.”

“Such as?” Alec interrupts, paying no mind to the various eyes that take toward his direction in addition to Caesar’s own, his impatience not being appreciated amongst his peers. “I was getting to that” the scientist replies in a subdued tone, almost as if he were attempting to hold himself back from speaking out of line.

“Your windows are now shatterproof, the bodies of your cars can take head-on-collisions at speeds up to one hundred miles per hour without presenting much more than a scratch” Caesar proceeds, only beginning with his laundry list of improvements. 

“They’ve been adequately tuned, fitted with a turbo booster capable of five uses when full, and fitted with advanced defensive technologies” he continues, “your tires have been reinforced and your cars have been fitted with an iron battering ram that will allow you to pierce through obstructions like the ones the drones had met you with. In addition to these objects of defence, your vehicles have been fitted with grappling hooks and towing capabilities in the need of assistance.”

“What do you mean by a turbo booster?” Nolo wonders aloud from the group, the addition having caught his ear in such a way that nothing further could be recalled. “Yes, a turbo booster. Your cars can only reach the speed they had initially been designed to. All my mechanics have done is modify your vehicle to not completely break down when exposed to vastly-increased speeds such as the one required to enter each stratum” Caesar replies, “the booster allows for greater speed than usual.”

“How fast?” Taro immediately asks aloud, prompting the scientist’s head to turn toward the rest of his group. “My booster will carry your vehicles a good eighty-to-one hundred miles per hour faster than what they can normally travel at” Caesar responds, continuing to hover over the documents laid out before himself, “you should be able to near three hundred miles per hour when this boost is implemented.”

“Why can’t you just have our cars travel that fast all the time?” Ronny questions aloud, only to overhear an amused chuckle come over the group seated behind them. “Speak for yourselves” Alec quips, wearing a grin that serves to irk the other squads on its appearance alone, “my McLaren can put the rest of your cars to shame.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily count on that being true, Mr. Mayweather” Caesar responds, watching the young man’s eyes roll as his face directs away from the room’s central figure, “every single driver here will be racing a vehicle that is- at least capability-wise- equal to one another. Some may be faster than others, but races are not won by the highest speed.”

“Alright, Professor X... How are races won?” Alec challenges, his left arm draped behind Lana’s head whilst his right leans against the seat’s armrest, supporting the majority of his upper body. “Races are won by the best racers” Caesar responds, his ear caught by the remark that’s paid by a man toward his right. “Yeah, like me” Kurt proclaims, looking back at the group his comment had been made to instigate, only for his brother’s voice to interject.

“I had you beat” Mark rebuttals, watching his older sibling’s face take toward his direction without the faintest sign of impression, “had it not been for the rest of you- I would’ve won that race.” Chuckling to himself, Kurt shakes his head before leaning further back into his seat, attention paid to his younger brother. “Not only was I staying behind you on purpose, but the better racer should at least know what he’s racing...” the Kaiyo members rebukes, “you never stood a chance.”

“Neither did you, Kurt” Caesar responds, his retort proving to be a surprise to the second in command that sits toward his right. “As a matter of fact, none of you did” the scientist doubles down, recalling their collective failure beyond the point of refusal, “the corporation did.” Parting his lips to reply, Mark finds his efforts falling futile when the central figure’s voice prevents him from doing so, speaking over his attempt without care for what was to be said.

“Had Kurt decided to stay with Kaiyo as opposed to going after bragging rights over his brother, he would’ve stayed on the most-direct path alongside his Kaiyo brethren” Caesar comments, a conclusion that can’t be argued, “even in the event that the multi-car collision occurs, Kurt’s awareness of his vehicle’s propulsion system would’ve at least kept him on pace to potentially out-run the drones.”

Looking toward the scientist, Kurt’s eyes hold an aura of self-disgust upon realising the accuracy of the statements made, the outcome he’d taken as a personal victory now proving to have just been a failure. “As stupid as the call the Wayland brothers had made, it pales in comparison to the one our friends at the back of the room made” Caesar explains, holding the other pairs accountable as well, “Ross’ decision to antagonise his fellow racers left six people too distracted to compete.”

“Hey! They are not my fellow racers!” Ross barks back, standing up from his seat with a look of insult worn across his visage and a finger aimed at the scientist’s position, “the only people that I race with are these guys!” Panning his hands out toward the three young adults that sit beside him, the best friend of the Esteemed’s leader pledges his allegiance beyond any doubt as Alec and Lana nod with angering grins, their expressions juxtaposed to the unchanged face that Eric wears.

“Perhaps you should take after the lead that your group’s leader has set in that case, Ross” Caesar replies, passing a momentary glance toward Alec before moving on, “though I respect Eric returning to make sure you’re alright, it was Alec and Lana who’d done what you should have. They stayed out of it, kept moving and- had they known about the turbo boosters- could’ve been in position to win.”

“It was a total failure amongst all parties all across the board” Harland concludes, bringing the conversation back around to the point it was called to make, “now instead of harkening back on how we lost the last race, why don’t you get around to telling us how to win the next one?”

“Yeah, and how about you start with the part you didn’t get to tell us last time...” Nolo replies, doubling down on the question that his rival-squad’s leader begs aloud, “...who the hell were those other guys in the stratum with us?” Lifting his chin toward the ceiling, Caesar keeps his eyes glued to the Kaiyo leader before splitting his glance amongst the other groups.

“The Flat Devil Corporation is an automotive company that specialises in producing driverless racing cars” Caesar responds, finally taking ownership over a seat off toward his side that he’d yet to seat himself in. “Twenty years ago or so, they invested in a company that produced artificial intelligence driving systems in the name of creating an entirely-automated racing circuit to compete with NASCAR” the scientist continues, “however, they’ve always had plans for this race brewing.”

“The corporation sends unmanned vehicles into each stratum with the intention of making it to the end first” Ellis explains, “as your experience with them in the Storm Stratum can speak to, they don’t mind losing as many cars as it takes inside the stratum if it means winning.” Nodding with approval, Caesar looks back toward the documents that are afforded to his eyes before continuing the man’s point.

“One thing I’m sure of is that they’re sending their unmanned vehicles- or drones, as I like to refer to them as- into the stratums to gradually improve their A.I’s driving techniques” Caesar confesses, “each stratum improves it gradually in preparation for whatever comes after the twenty two legs have been finished.”

“Why do they want to win so badly then? What’s at the end of the race for them?” Tyson questions from the back, an answer that the scientist isn’t all too easily able to give. “I’m not sure. I don’t know what happens when the twenty two legs conclude. It could be nothing for all I know” Caesar admits, shaking his head with uncertainty, “but I know they wouldn’t go through all of this trouble for nothing.”

“Knowing that they’d be willing to lose their own cars in order to win these races, is it safe to assume they’d be willing to take out other cars?” Kurt questions aloud, finding rare common ground with his brother, who doubles down on the question, “yeah, like our cars?”

“Considering there are few people in the world that know about these stratums, I’d imagine they wouldn’t shy away from doing...” Caesar responds, pausing as he tries to find a more civilised way of wording his reply, “...whatever’s necessary.”

Sitting in a collective silence, the four squads begin looking toward those within their own ranks before glancing in the direction of the other groups. Refusing to display fear, the DSRC stare toward each other whilst the Esteemed find themselves returned to reality, their refused guarantee of safety temporarily bringing them down from the perch they’ve seated themselves atop.

Considering the statement that’s made, Kaiyo tries their best to grow comfortable with this unsettling reality whilst the Crew individually nod in acceptance of the terms laid out. “Before you all disperse, there is one more thing that I’d like to mention” Caesar explains, preventing anyone from considering the meeting over and done with, “because I’d very much like to keep you all alive and accounted for, I’ve equipped all of your cars with an emergency return.”

Sliding away from the centre of the table, Caesar makes way for his right hand man to take over the conversation, explaining the vague discovery. “Beneath a plastic case on the centre consoles of your vehicles will be a bright, red button that will begin glowing when the case is lifted” Ellis remarks, taking over his superior’s forfeited position, “the ‘Last Ditch Resort’- or Angel Button as I call it- will allow your vehicle to escape at the speed you were travelling when pressed.”

“So you’re saying we shouldn’t hit it when we’re using that turbo you’re talking about, right?” Ross questions from the back, watching the semi-humoured grin that the mechanic returns to him. “I would suggest against it” Ellis replies, closing the binder that was left open atop the table whilst looking out to the other groups, “I would only use it in the event of an absolute emergency.”

Nodding to themselves before being dismissed, the four groups venture off and tend to their own business in preparation for the next stratum, departing the conference room in favour of whatever corridors their desires carry them toward. Staying behind whilst his right hand man exits just as the drivers do, Caesar rolls his chair back to the centre of the table before flipping open the binder that Ellis had just closed, beginning to read the pages that have been laid out for him.

= Driveline is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards =

“I don’t have to trust somebody just because they race with us” Harland replies, stepping away from a table at the back of a Crew-coloured communal room with a pair of coffee cups in hand. “Not being able to trust Wayland is a bad sign; I know that you’re aware of that” Taro retorts, bowing his head subtly as he takes one of the two cups appreciatively, watching as the group’s leader offers the second one to their scrawny friend.

“Of course I know that, Taro” Harland responds, assuring the man that he doesn’t lack awareness of the situation at hand, “we don’t really have much of a choice on the matter. We need four guys, and with Wayland- we’ve got four guys.” Returning to the table, the Crew’s leader begins pouring himself a cup of coffee as the conversation persists.

“I don’t know that we have four guys in anything more than numbers” Taro confesses, one arm crossed beneath the one that holds the coffee cup, “it feels like we’re in a similar position to those prep kids across the hall.”

“What do you mean? Esteemed’s got four guys” Ronny responds, confused at the conclusion the group’s co-founder makes for only the moments that go without its leader breaking it down. “Eric is as much one of the prep kids as Wayland is a member of the Crew” Harland responds, doubling down on Taro’s proclamation, “that kid’s with the others ‘cause they’re his friends. Wayland’s with us ‘cause his brother wouldn’t let him in Kaiyo and he needed somewhere else to go.”

“We’re not saying Wayland shouldn’t be with the Crew, Ronny. What we’re saying is we need to take a different approach with him” Taro explains, watching as Harland returns to the discourse physically, “when someone in the Crew needs help, we’re going to be there for each other. With Wayland, we can’t be so sure he’d do the same and need to keep that in mind at all t-”

Interrupted by the sound of an automatic door sliding in, the trio of slip-racers come to a sudden silence as their bodies turn toward the room’s entrance, watching the rival faction’s leader arrive. “I come in peace” Nolo remarks, lifting his hands in a symbolic gesture of good faith as he enters the room alone, his eyes paying little more than a few seconds of focus on the rival factions members other than its leader, “do you think we can talk in private for a minute or two?”

Without needing to be paid the command, Taro turns his face toward the group’s mechanic and begins turning away from the room, “come on, Ronny. Let’s go test out our cars or something” the man declares, his instructions quietly obeyed by the scrawny racer who follows his exit. “You have an apology for me or something?” Harland inquires once the room is void of additional presence, his question one that sparks a grin over the Kaiyo leader.

“An apology? That’s funny, Torque” the man’s nemesis replies, pacing the room at a slow pace as the discussion ensues, “if anything, I would’ve thought it’d be you that owed me an apology.” Gently setting his coffee down on the nearby table, Harland crosses his arms whilst his body gradually rotates to face the opposite man. “What would I- or the Crew for that matter- have to apologise to you or Kaiyo for?” the man inquires, genuinely wondrous of the notion presented.

“How about we start with pretty much crippling the Annapolis racing scene for a start?” Nolo responds, the line of thought one that the Crew’s leader was not initially thinking of, therefore bringing a slight frown to the man’s face. “While we’re at it, you can also apologise for bringing Mark in just to piss off his brother. Because, of course, Kaiyo needed another reason to dislike Crew” the apology-seeking man continues, “and after that, you can again apologise for killing the racing scene.”

“First of all, we didn’t bring in Wayland to piss off his brother. We brought him in because he was a good racer who wanted to win slips just as much as we did” Harland rebukes, watching the Kaiyo leader’s face fall toward the ground, “second of all, we’re not going to apologise for other squads being so confident in their abilities to beat us that they’d be willing to wager their cars over it.”

“We came up to you last year and told you to stop racing for slips” Nolo retorts, arguing in his group’s favour as the other man’s face now takes toward the ground, “we told you that the competition was dying because of y’all and you just kept going.”

“Like I said, the hubris those groups had to- time after time- race us for slips and lose is not on the Crew” Harland responds, watching the man across from him roll his eyes, “you’ve been arguing that we shouldn’t gone elsewhere and won slips in some other city, but I could easily make the argument that Kaiyo could’ve done the same and found a racing scene to be apart of somewhere else.”

“We shouldn’t have had to” Nolo quips back, only for the conclusion to be one that Harland doesn’t see value in. “Anyone can argue that they shouldn’t have left their home turf, but that doesn’t change the fact that neither of us did” the Crew’s leader proclaims, a gesture that the rival driver has no room to argue against, “but hell, if the fact is that the Crew killed off the entirety of Annapolis’ racing scene, then maybe that scene didn’t have the right to exist in the first place.”

“The only reason Crew had the chance to kill off the other squads was because Kaiyo never got involved” Nolo rejoinders, getting in the man’s face with a more daring tone of voice, “count your blessings, Torque. Had we got involved before you’d gotten the chance to lay groundwork, Crew would be nothing more than a memory right now.”

“I guess it’s a good thing you have the chance to prove it without being afraid of losing your prized possessions now, huh?” Harland questions back, meeting the man’s intimidation tactics with an equal effort, getting as close to the Kaiyo leader’s face as his own has been. “Kaiyo never raced you on principle... Not our of fear” Nolo rebukes, defending his group in spite of Torque’s refusal to fully buy into such a claim, “but yeah, I guess it is a good thing now.”

“It sure is. So, how about we agree to put our focus on the races that we haven’t beaten each other in yet instead of the ones that never happened?” Harland concludes, extending his arms outward toward either side, “we’ll let the next twenty one stratums do the talking for us.”

“That sounds like a good idea” Nolo replies in a near-whisper, nodding as he steps away, departing for the room’s exit, “that sounds like a real good idea, Torque.”

|

Following the potent scent that floods throughout the corridor, Eric leads himself past the entrance to his group’s clubhouse that faces directly opposite the Crew’s before continuing onward. “That has to be coming from Kaiyo” the man mutters beneath his breath, eyeing the sliding door with the spoken group’s logo blazed upon it, the door acting just as the others do in facing the entrance to a rival group’s quarters, their own just happening to face the DSRC’s.

Leaping back at the sudden sound of motion, Eric watches Kaiyo’s entrance glide open to release Vert from within, his person and the rest of the hallway smelling heavily of the aroma that the Esteemed member’s nose follows. “Hey, preppy” the blonde haired member of the racing squad remarks, pausing mid-step before thinking to ask the question he’d left the room with, “you haven’t seen Taro, have you?”

“Uh, yeah- I just saw him walking for the garages a second ago” Eric responds, his reply earning him a pat on the shoulder from the Kaiyo driver that now begins his journey toward the area. “Hey, Vert!?” the Esteemed racer calls back, watching the man of equal age turn back with a raised eyebrow, “do you guys sell?”

“Sell? Sell wha-?” Vert questions back after a brief pause, searching internally for emphasis before suddenly cutting himself off, “oh! You mean weed? I mean, the weed’s Talia’s. I’m sure she’d share, I’m just not sure if she would for people other than Kaiyo. You can give it a shot, though.”

Taking the proposition for what it’s worth, Eric pays the rival driver a nod before their paths pull in separate directions once more, the advancement of the Esteemed driver taking him through the enemy clubhouse’s entrance. “Woah, a preppy stepping into enemy territory?” Kurt jokes, the only other man beside the mostly-silent, music-enjoying member of his group inside the communal space, “you sure you’ve got the balls for that, kid?”

“I was just coming to buy some pot” Eric replies with lifted hands, showing the sign of surrender that prompts the experienced driver to burst into laughter. “Fair enough, I suppose” Kurt concludes, climbing out of his chair before reaching for the leather jacket he’d left off a nearby hook, “good luck, buddy” he replies, patting the Esteemed’s driver on the back before exiting the room.

“I don’t sell” Talia remarks, the sound of her voice immediately prompting Eric’s eyes to widen, his surprise made clear instantly. “Holy shit, you speak?” the visiting racer replies, watching the woman grin as she subdues her amusement, headphones still blaring music into her ears. “I’m partially deaf... I’m not a mute” the lone Kaiyo driver in the room replies, her body sinking into the comfort of a bean bag chair she’d kept in the backseat of her M-Coupe.

“I knew that, I’d just never heard your voice before” Eric confesses, awkwardly pressing the palms of his hands against his sides before bowing his head and turning back for the entrance. “Where are you going?” Talia wonders aloud, prompting the man to turn back around with raised eyebrows.

“Back to our clubhouse?” Eric retorts, unsure of how else to respond to the question other than with the answer he’d assumed was already clear. “I thought you wanted pot?” Talia queries back, her spoken wonder only further confusing the guest driver. “I do, but you told me that you don’t sell” the polite member of the rather crass racing squad responds, “I don’t want to pester you to sell if you don’t.”

Rolling her eyes with amusement, Talia lifts the lit joint she already wields to her lips before gesturing her hand toward the empty spot on the floor beside her bean bag seat. Taking the gesture for what it’s worth, Eric strolls across the open floor cautiously whilst his fellow driver reaches into a bag off to the side, snatching from within a half-crushed leaf and a piece of rolling paper.

“I don’t sell, but that doesn’t mean I’m a selfish user” Talia replies as she holds her breath, letting the smoke linger within before exhaling it with a satisfied sigh. “What’s the fun of smoking without friends anyway?” the woman continues, quickly loading the wrapping paper with veteran skill whilst taking a second puff from the join between her lips.

“We’re friends?” Eric questions aloud, watching the woman look up toward him just as he begs the question, her music still too loud to allow her a chance at hearing him outright, “even with the people I’m in a group with, you’d consider us friends?” Chuckling to herself as she lets out the gust of marijuana smoke from her lungs in the Esteemed driver’s direction, Talia looks back to the joint that she prepares for her fellow driver.

“I don’t know about us being friends so much as I’d consider you someone that I can bare being around” Talia replies, removing the joint from her lip as she presses her tongue against the now-rolled wrapper, “besides, the fact that you know how unpleasant the company you surround yourself with is a good sign that you’re at least self-aware and not a total ass.”

With a smile, Eric lets his head fall toward the ground as he takes appreciation in the woman’s comments, allowing a few further seconds to pass before his own joint is handed off. Leaning back in her chair, Talia continues to lose herself in the music that fills her ears whilst the room continues to cloud with the expended kush fog.

|

“‘Sup, Wayland?” Vert questions aloud, watching the younger sibling of his fellow driver return to the garage his Firebird is stationed in with a pair of bolt cutters in hand. Snarling at the Kaiyo driver, Mark pays the man not a single word as he continues along his travels, leaving the gesture to fall upon deaf ears.

“Don’t mind him- he’s in a mood” Taro remarks, leaning over the open hood of his ‘Cuda Convertible whilst taking a wrench to what resides within. “I can’t imagine why” Vert replies, granting himself permission to enter the man’s garage before stopping with surprise, noticing the equally-red shell that encapsulates the vehicle, “did you finally put a top on this thing?”

Finishing the duties that had called for his attention, Taro slams the hood shut and reaches for a nearby grease-stained rag. “Apparently the white coats did” the convertible’s owner replies whilst wiping off his hands, “I asked around about the upgrades and they let me know they reinstalled the top I’d taken off since they didn’t know what kinds of stratums we’d be going into in the future.”

“I haven’t seen this car with a shell on it since I was in middle school” Vert replies, gazing at the part of the vehicle that fills him with the sensation of nostalgia, the car’s owner smirking at the claim before tossing the rag into a basket at the garage’s corner. “Yeah, neither had I” Taro replies, walking along the opposite side of the car from his old friend, “I’d gotten rid of mine back when the car was still green and the Crew hadn’t adopted a colour scheme.”

Amused, Vert gently slides his hand down the top of the vehicle’s shell as if it were something otherworldly. “Yeah, I hear you. I kinda miss the old grey my Acura was before I joined Kaiyo” the driver confesses with a subtle laugh, “the chrome finish just doesn’t look as appealing as it does on Nolo’s car.”

“So change it back” Taro responds with a shrug of his shoulders, opening the driver’s side door and flicking a switch on the vehicle’s centre console, allowing the glossy, red top to fall back and return the convertible to its air-exposed natural state. “I can’t. Everyone knows Kaiyo cars are chrome” Vert replies, stepping back so as not to interfere with the car’s change, “it’s the same reason you can’t paint your car green again.”

“Sure I can. The Crew only recommends a red or black colour scheme to differentiate from the neon colours those racers in Annapolis use” Taro retorts whilst closing the cab’s entrance once more, “I could paint the car whatever I want... I just like the red.”

Not having realised this before, Vert nods with the new discovery whilst his friend watches on, walking toward the back of the car with eyes set on the gas tank. “If it bothers you that much, go tell your Kaiyo friends that you want it painted grey again” Taro proclaims, reaching for a gas canister that waits for him atop a nearby workbench, “you shouldn’t have to drive a car that you don’t want to drive.”

“I miss the grey scheme, that’s all. The chrome looks nice” Vert retorts, looking past the vehicle and toward his friend, only to find an unconvinced nod being paid back to him. “I think the chrome looks tacky as hell, but believe whatever you want to believe” Taro jokes, tilting the can’s nozzle into the tank’s opening to prepare the car for the next time it’s needed.

“The colour of the car isn’t as important as what it represents” Vert declares, a conclusion that the Crew’s co-founder doesn’t necessarily think differently from. “I can see the logic in that. But, I’m not sure either of our cars represent what they’d originally represented now... At least not for the time being” Taro rejoinders, pressing the hip of his left side just above the back-most tire, “Kaiyo drove for the art and the Crew drove for slips. Now we just race in cool places.”

“Yeah, I guess we-” Vert begins to reply, only to duck toward the ground just as Taro does in a moment of startling vibration, their reactions paid to the sound of an alarm that begins flashing the second level in a bright red light. “What the hell is that!?” the Kaiyo driver proclaims as his friend pulls the canister's nozzle out from the tank’s entry, following the younger man toward the garage’s entrance.

“We’ve got another race!” Ross calls out from a garage just a short few yards away, pointing toward the blue-tinted sphere of concentrated energy. Exiting the parking space simultaneously, Taro and Vert guide their attention toward the red-tinted cave they call their temporary home as the buzzing alarm that had activated it continues to blare.

“Drivers, the next stratum is activating!” Caesar proclaims through the building’s loudspeaker, his proclamation slightly-interrupted by the roaring sounds of the DSRC’s collective motorbikes driving off in formation, the first to fully exit their garage unit and doing so all at once. “I guess that next cool place is coming up” Taro declares, sliding his left hand into the pocket of his jeans and retrieving his keys whilst the right hand pats his friend’s shoulder, “good luck in there, Vert.”

Returning the man a nod, Vert makes a dash across the parking lot as Ross pulls his Tributo out from the shop, the first of the Esteemed’s drivers to take their focus toward the next race. Situating himself into the control centre, Caesar types in a few commands whilst his right hand man enters the room, “what’s the next leg, sir?” Ellis inquires, watching his superior’s face take toward the screen as the answer presents itself in coded language.

Reading through the lines of text and symbols, Caesar’s face follows the brief trail of word salad that’s paid to him, the readings that his machines have taken from the newest formation of concentrated energy paying off. Muttering beneath his breath, the scientist’s discovery is voiced aloud as the alarm continues buzzing, the lights that had bathed the second level in a shade of bright red now changing, allowing a solid shade of yellow to come over the building’s interior.

“The Swamp Stratum” Caesar whispers to himself, the man’s voice proving to be just barely loud enough to reach Ellis’ ears, informing him of the next stage before any of the drivers that now take to the track one after another.

== Driveline ==