S1, E7 | All for One or One for All?

“The conservation of your turbo supply is imperative” Caesar remarks, standing before the group’s collective eyes whilst aiming a marking stick at an image of Taro’s ‘Cuda Convertible dashboard. “Each car can only support a limited supply of this booster. It is to be used in times of great necessity- and this goes for each and every driver” the scientist continues, “as Nolo and Talia were so kind to show us in the Swamp Stratum, drafting can be a valuable alternative when possible.”

“What happens if you’re down a man?” Pat wonders from across the room, interrupting the discourse before the time to present the inquiry can pass, “let’s say we get in a situation like the last race where Dale goes down and you can’t keep an optimal two-bike drift. What happens then?”

“I’d recommend you find a driver to draft with on another team in that scenario” Caesar replies, only for his answer to receive a subdued chuckle from the bikers’ other side, “is there something you gentlemen- and woman- find funny?”

“No, no. Keep talking, big guy” Alec replies, waving his hand toward the scientist whilst leaning back in his chair, both feet kicked up on the table whilst his face wears a grin. “The four of you- well, most of you- get on my nerves” Taro remarks, having turned in his chair to look back at the wealthy young adults, the conclusion not being one that he alone subscribes to.

“I agree with the Jap. You prep-punks really grind my gears” Dale groans, finding common ground with the Crew driver, though offering it in a way that doesn’t appear to phase the squad’s co-founder much. “Go ahead and do something about it then, Sons of Anarchy” Alec chirps back, his comment drawing the ire of those seated across from them.

“Maybe I will” Dale replies, standing out from his chair whilst the rest of the DSRC follow suit, ready for whatever altercation threatens to boil over. “I’d like to see you try, tough guy!” Ross shouts back, slamming his fists against the table whilst becoming the first driver from his squad to leave his seat, the three others doing so just to present an identity of unity amongst each other.

“As much as I’d hate to do so, I’m more than willing to refuse both the DSRC and Esteemed entry into the next stratum” Caesar interjects, his threat allowing an opening to subdue the conflict enough to elaborate, “I’m tired of these altercations. I didn’t bring you four teams here because I wanted you at each other’s throats, I wanted you here because you’re the best there is.”

“Maybe, but we’re the best of the best” Alec retorts, a gesture that immediately sparks argument as expected. “It’s funny of you to say that, ‘cause the Crew happens to think otherwise” Mark responds, stepping out of his chair in a show of strength before glancing back, his initial reaction of surprise being earned by the rest of his team, who remain seated unlike the Esteemed.

“I’d like to point out that Kaiyo is the only team so far to finish both stratums” Nolo interjects, leaving his seat whilst the rest of his team follows suit, showing a unity that the squad across from fails to present, “as far as being the best is concerned- only one group has an argument to make.”

“We’ll see about that after the next stratum” Alec retorts, an argument that the man he speaks to doesn’t necessarily argue against. “I suppose we just might” Nolo rebukes, staring toward the back of the room whilst Caesar takes the opportunity to bring the meeting’s end. “I think we’ve gone over enough for today- this meeting is adjourned” the scientist remarks, looking back to the younger Wayland sibling, who stares back toward the rest of his team with surprise, “Mark, please come see me.”

Sliding out from the table, the three still-seated members of the Crew do as instructed by their superior and leave with the other drivers, standing by each other’s side whilst Mark watches them walk off, still appearing shocked by their display. “Mr. Wayland” Caesar speaks aloud, staring at the back of the racer’s head as he watches his peers depart without offering him a word, their refusal to back him up speaking louder than words ever could, “Mr. Wayland?”

“What do you want?” Mark snaps back, his voice kept to a respectable level, though the way in which he speaks carries a bite stronger than it’d appear. Unperturbed by the vigour behind the remark, Caesar stares back at the driver without uttering a word for the first three seconds, his resumption of speech being delivered as if the pause hadn’t actually occurred.

“I’d like to understand this issue you have with your brother better than I do as of this moment” Caesar replies, reclaiming the seat he’d lifted himself out of right around the meeting’s start, “I think it’d be within our own best interest to figure out a solution to this matter. The last thing I need is to have a driver not be able to take part in the next stratum because their brother destroys their vehicle.”

“Ain’t you the wise man around here?” Mark questions back, hands thrown out at either side as he stares back toward the second level’s founder, “you’re the one that knows everyone’s backstory, why don’t you go figure it out yourself.”

“Because the digging that I’ve done into each of you lacks one very important aspect...” Caesar responds, folding his hands atop his lap as he leans further back in his chair, “...your own side of the story.” Thinking little of the answer he’s given, Mark rolls his eyes and curls his lip whilst staring toward the back of the room, his glare briefly being held upon the dormant ball of energy still yet to present them with a new leg of the race.

“We grew up in Boston; we went from one school to another ‘cause neither of us really cared for good grades. Mom and dad worked late, the usual stuff” Mark responds, shrugging his shoulders as he offers the rather basic details, “nothing you and your fuckin’ Doctor Evil looking-ass wouldn’t already know.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I look like Doctor Evil, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I’m flattered either way” Caesar responds, writing off the comment as if nothing more than a compliment, “but I do already know those things, you’re right. With that said, you know what I am asking you about.”

“You wanna know why Kurt and I don’t get along” Mark responds, as aware of the intention behind the conversation as the scientist assumes him to be, “it’s none of your fucking business.” Pressing his lips together in a frown, Caesar hangs his head just slightly as he sits with his thoughts, thinking things over in his head before the opportunity to voice his conclusions aloud is refused, the silence impeded by the younger sibling’s continuation. 

“I don’t care what you think you can do to help us get along better, but it ain’t worth the effort” Mark doubles down, reassuring the hairless gentleman that this brief discourse will resolve little to nothing, “you don’t want me to vandalise his shit? Fine. I won’t wreck his shit no more, but when I see him on those tracks- there’s not gonna be a single thing more important than beating him. You got that?”

Turning his back to the second level’s founder, Mark carries his feet toward the same door that his peers had exited through minutes prior, prepared to leave the conversation behind without needing to offer another word. “How long after your father’s death did you approach Kurt about joining Kaiyo?” Caesar wonders aloud, the question immediately bringing the younger Wayland sibling to a complete stand-still, his eyes pulling themselves back toward the front of the room.

“What did you just ask me?” Mark wonders back, watching the scientist confidently and calmly rise from the chair he’d seated himself in. “I asked how long it took you to approach Kurt about joining Kaiyo after your father’s-” Caesar answers, cut short by the outstretched hand his company approaches him with, wrapping his fingers around the professional’s throat and pushing him against the monitor at the front of the room.

“Listen, pencil neck. Don’t ever mention my father again” Mark calmly warns, speaking as if trying to keep his voice calm and demeanour under control, “I don’t know what you do or who you are- I’m only here to race. If you think I won’t drop you like a ton of bricks for saying his name or bringing him up, you’ve got another thing coming. Got it?”

Hissing as his hands wrap around the Crew driver’s wrist, Caesar looks the younger sibling in the eyes without uttering a word or gesturing in any way, his air passages only being freed suddenly and without warning. Falling to the ground on his knees, the scientist fights to catch his breath as Mark turns away again, making for the exit without anyone or any word to stop him this time around.

= 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 =

Hearing nothing other than the music that blares into her ears at the highest levels she can set it to reach, Talia stares intently at the massive fan across the off-white painted room that she occupies. Pressing her foot to the pedal, the woman increases her M-Coupe’s speed just the slightest amount before gently turning her sights toward the machine that she’s set up atop the dashboard, its various lines and numbers accruing data that her vehicle sends back.

Waiting for one of the higher numbers to rise, the woman focuses on maintaining her speed and keeping her hands steady on the wheel, eyes again returning to the giant blades that spin across from her, the winds that it sends toward her car acting in the opposite direction. Shifting her vehicle into the next gear, Talia’s foot presses further into the pedal and picks up the intensity once the data reads in her favour, the refusal to move that her hands take allowing a straight-shot forward.

From behind a window off to the side of the room, Eric crosses his arms and watches the practise continue from a safe distance, the streaks of wind being thrown toward his friend’s vehicle appearing in the form of white streaks that bring a physical manifestation of air resistance forward. “Don’t you have one of these closer to you guys?” Vert inquires, standing with his own limbs crossed over each other from the other side of the room, looking toward his guest.

“We do, but none of us actually use them” Eric replies, remaining civilised with the Kaiyo driver in ways the rest of his squad doesn’t appear to care for, “Alec says there’s no need. They’re the best cars in the world and pretending they’ll be outperformed is just laughable in his eyes.” Ironically left to chuckle at the proclamation, Vert hangs his head for a moment as the remark settles, his eyes eventually taking back toward the most-tolerable member of the Esteemed in his eyes.

“Why do you even run with those guys anyway?” Vert questions aloud, asking the question from a place of genuinity, “I don’t mean this to pick a fight, but you’re not an asshole like your friends are.” As if already aware of such a fact, Eric takes his opportunity to hang his head and laugh at the humour he takes, nodding in agreement as he looks back through the window before him.

“Believe it or not, they’re a lot more likeable than most people that grow up spoiled and pampered” the man confesses, the proclamation making it clear that he speaks from experience, “Ross is a druggy, Alec’s the son of a media mogul, and Lana would spread her legs for a designer handbag if she weren’t able to get even more than that out of hanging with Alec.”

“That’s what I’m saying! I mean, it’s not like you’re exactly the kind of person Kaiyo usually races with, but you’re a much better option than the others” Vert responds, again briefly taking his eyes back toward the car in the wind chamber, “I’m not offering you a spot in Kaiyo or anything- not that I could even if I wanted to- but to still ride with those guys now doesn’t make all that much sense.”

“I don’t know that it makes sense for a ton of us to be racing with the people that we’re with now either” Eric confesses, not only seeing the Kaiyo driver’s point, but exceeding it with his own, “the longer that we spend driving through these stratums, the more I think that’ll become clearer.”

“What do you mean?” Vert asks, genuinely interested in the logic that the driver’s drawn from to present his theory, one that the Esteemed racer doesn’t hesitate to provide. “Mark’s more interested in fucking with his brother than being part of the Crew, Pat and Tyson aren’t these rugged biker guys in the same way the other DSRC guys are, and Kurt seems more like the Kaiyo leader than Nolo does” Eric answers, “maybe it’s just me who thinks these things, but that’s the way I see it.”

“How does Kurt seem more like the leader?” Vert wonders aloud, finding the most surprise in the latter-most statement than the others. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re all really good drivers. But, as good as Nolo is, I’m not so sure he would’ve been the only guy that finished the Swamp Stratum had Kurt gotten a chance to go in” Eric responds, offering a point of view the Kaiyo driver had never taken before, “I’m just saying that- if you asked someone who knew no better- they’d think Kurt led Kaiyo.”

With a squint in his eyes, Vert pulls his face away and stares at the ground for a moment whilst the room’s guest looks back toward the wind chamber’s interior. Not speaking at first, the Kaiyo driver makes his best attempt at pushing the revelation aside in favour of continuing his group’s efforts in best preparing for the next stratum, returning his focus toward assisting Talia in testing her vehicle’s performance.

|

With a stack of folders in hand, Caesar exits the control centre and returns to the adjacent conference room, his throat wearing the red marks from the younger Wayland sibling’s hand as he finds another surprise waiting for him. “Mr. Ishioka” the scientist remarks, caught by surprise at the presence of Taro sitting in the chair he normally occupies, hands folded and eyes closed as he leans back in his seat, having quietly waited for the presence of the second level’s founder.

“Have I come at a bad time?” Taro questions aloud, parting his eyelids prior to the scientist’s voice addressing him, his ears having caught onto the approaching footsteps. “That would depend on what it is that I can help you with” Caesar confesses, temporarily lowering the binders to the conference table’s spot that he usually occupies, “if it’s something simple, I’ll do whatever I can whenever I’m able to. If it’s something that requires more time, I’m afraid it’ll have to wait.”

“Why is that? Are you preparing for the next stratum already?” Taro questions back, curious as to the motivations of the man he still knows all too little about. “It can open up at any moment; I’d rather not be caught by surprise when it does” Caesar admits, immediately following his own reply with the wave of his hand, dismissing any concerns he, himself, has in favour of addressing the concerns he takes wonder over, “nevermind that. What can I help you with, Mr. Ishioka?”

“The stuff you’re not telling us” Taro quickly answers, his retort catching the scientist by a surprise he hadn’t been anticipating. “You’d mentioned prior to us going inside of the Storm Stratum that there was more you wanted to say but couldn’t in that moment” the Crew co-founder recalls, adjusting the posture he assumes his seat with so as to now sit upright, “now that some time has passed, I want to know what that stuff you couldn’t say back then was.”

“What makes you think that now is the best time for revealing secrets, Mr. Ishioka?” Caesar rejoinders, a question that brings a momentary smirk across his company’s face, though it lasts only a brief second before being replaced with the parted lips that offer the rebuttal. “Because I don’t care about what is- or isn’t- the best time for something” Taro answers, parting his hands before lowering them atop the chair’s armrests, “I want to know things when I want to know things.”

Moved slightly to the right side, Caesar’s face shifts whilst his eyes take on a faint squint, one barely noticeable from the party seated before him. “Very well” the scientist concedes, pressing his palm against the top-most folder from the stack that he stands in the company of, “I still can’t offer as much as I’d otherwise like to, but there is one thing I haven’t told you before that I can clue you in on now.”

Greatly interested, Taro lifts his chin higher toward the sky as he sits in silence for a moment, considering the potential of what can be said before finding the unspoken too appealing to pass up. “I’m listening” the Crew’s co-founder reassures, remaining patient whilst sacrificing the bigger picture for the immediate insight that can come as an advantage to him.

|

“Where’s Taro?” Mark wonders aloud, re-entering the Crew’s clubhouse to discover the co-founder nowhere to be found. “He’s talking with Caesar about something” Harland answers, throwing on a fresh t-shirt as he steps out of the communal bathroom, the mirror he leaves behind fogged by the humidity of the hot shower he’d just taken.

“Is he talking about something on behalf of the Crew or just himself?” Mark inquires, watching the unamused expression his question evokes from the visage of the group’s leader with great intrigue. “We’re not kicking you out of the group, Wayland. And for that matter, he’s not talking with Caesar to have you kicked out of the race either” Harland answers, already knowing where the driver’s mindset was leading, “you’re a pain in the ass, but you’re still one of us.”

Though he knows the response he’s been paid to be true, Mark’s face wears the doubt in the sincerity behind the statement despite his better judgements assuring him otherwise. “It didn’t really seem like that at the meeting earlier today” the younger Wayland sibling replies, watching as the reply fails to bring about a change in the squad leader’s expression.

“I think this is a conversation that’s better off without me in it” Ronny proclaims, knowing such a conclusion to be untrue whilst also being aware that not a soul would blame him for assuming it. Proving the scrawny mechanic’s suspicions correct, Mark refuses to keep the driver from exiting the room, allowing the clubhouse to fall into the presence of just himself and the squad’s leader.

“Wayland, just because you’re part of the Crew doesn’t mean that you speak on behalf of the Crew” Harland reiterates, turning to face the man outright as he steps forward, “what you pulled in the stratum wasn’t on behalf of the Crew- it was on behalf of you.”

“So what if that’s the case?” Mark questions back, shrugging whilst shaking his head as he raises the inquiry, “don’t we race as one?” Wiping at his face with his semi-damp hands, Harland lets out a long sigh as he comes to a step mere inches away from the subordinate racer, still just as composed as he normally carries himself to be.

“We should be racing as one, but we sure as hell weren’t in that last race” Harland responds, crossing his muscular arms as he continues the discourse, “the only thing you were interested in back there was beating Ross. It didn’t matter what was best for the Crew, it was what was best for Mark Wayland.”

“We could’ve won, Harland” Mark responds, standing firm by his stance that the outcome could’ve been a lot different, “I’ll admit, the drones caught me by surprise. I could’ve done more to see their tactics coming ahead of time, but had I done it- we could’ve won.” Grimacing at the comment he’s paid, Harland lets out a sigh before dropping his arms, using the free hand on one of them to scratch at the stubble along the side of his face.

“I could also make an argument that- had Kurt been in there- we might’ve ended up getting the wrong end of the stick a lot sooner than the end of the race” Harland responds, aware of the ire that his comment draws from the lower-ranking racer. “That’s not fair, man. You know damn well how much beating Kurt means to me” Mark replies, a stance that isn’t inherently argued against by the Crew’s leader.

“I do. I know it means a whole hell of a lot to you, and I’m more than happy to get you to the finish line ahead of him as a team” Harland responds, leaving the ball in the Wayland sibling’s court to play with, “but going forward, you need to figure out whether or not beating Kurt means more to you than the Crew does.”

Having nothing else to say, Harland steps forward and walks past his squad’s subordinate, the proposal paid to the racer whose revenge is so highly sought after and left for him to simmer with. Along the journey toward the garage area, the Crew’s leader pays Ross a silent scowl as their paths cross in the hallway, his exit from the clubhouse juxtaposed with the Esteemed’s entry to his own.

“Hey, do either of y’all have-?” Ross wonders aloud, watching his clubhouse’s door slide open to reveal Alec and Lana occupying a couch on the other side of the room almost half-naked. “Holy shit, man! Why don’t you knock next time!?” the squad’s de facto leader shouts aloud, hurriedly climbing off his girlfriend in an attempt at reclaiming some decency.

“What do you mean knock!? It’s an automatic door!” Ross shouts back, arms extended outward at either side before his eyes take a quick trip around the room, finding the lack of a fourth presence to be rather odd, “where’s Eric?”

“Why? Wasn’t he with you?” Lana questions back, holding her arm over her cleavage as she uses her free hand to adjust her inside-out t-shirt. “No, I just came from the cafeteria” Ross replies, briefly walking back for the way in which he’d entered the room, “I just passed the garage and he wasn’t there either.”

“Well, maybe he’s talking to the scientist guy?” Alec proposes, the suggestion one that falls on deaf ears halfway through its vocalisation, a sudden realisation dawning upon the pharmaceutical-dependent racer. “I know exactly where he is” Eric sighs, shaking his head in disbelief as the squad’s leader calls the answer into question.

Journeying out from the clubhouse, the trio of properly-clothed Esteemed squad members find their travels intersecting with those of the wind chamber-exiting Kaiyo drivers, the duo joined by a suspiciously-placed odd-man-out. “What the hell is this!?” Alec proclaims, extending his hand toward the back of Talia’s M-Coupe, his eyes falling upon the pair of men following in its pathway on foot, “when the hell did you become friendly with the Baltimore scum!?”

“Hey! We’re from Annapolis!” Vert retorts, humoured by the outraged visage that’s worn on the face of the Esteemed’s leader, though the amusement he pulls from the approach is not reciprocated by the man who causes it. “Do you think I give a fuck!?” Alec proclaims, his rather harsh tone killing the fun that the Kaiyo driver had been having, “what the hell is my guy doing with you street punks!?”

“After spending so much time with the three of you, he’s probably enjoying what it’s like to not have to be ashamed of the company he surrounds himself with” Talia answers, stepping out of her car and slamming the door shut as she joins alongside Vert. “Oh shit, she really does talk!” Tyson proclaims from a far-off side of the garages, taking as much surprise in this revelation as the rest of his club does.

“Eric, get over here” Alec commands, watching the pair of Kaiyo drivers come to a stop that his own group’s member follows the lead of. “Alec, I don’t know why you’re making this such a big-” Eric attempts to reply, holding out hope that the situation can be quelled, though his efforts prove futile.

“Get your ass over here!” the Esteemed’s leader shouts, not taking kindly to being forced into repeating himself. “Eric can hang out with whomever he damn well pleases” Kurt exclaims, exiting a nearby garage with Nolo following a few steps behind, “unless the Esteemed and it’s puckered asshole of a leader are worried he might grow less fond of them when he’s around decent people?”

“That’s really ironic coming from a guy whose own family hates his guts!” Alec argues back, only for Kaiyo’s second in command to correct him as opposed to retaliating. “My family doesn’t hate my guts...” Kurt rejoinders, stepping up to the much younger man’s face without an ounce of fear in the physical threat that he may pose “...only my brother does.”

“Easy, Kurt... Easy” Nolo interjects, gently pressing the palm of his hand against his right hand man’s chest as a gesture for him to pull back, freeing the space opposite the rival club’s leader for himself to take. “This kid’s never been hit with the harsh attitude of the real world; he’s been spoon-fed the facade that everyone that’s anyone believes the same things as he does” the Kaiyo leader proclaims, watching the unpleased smirk come over the Esteemed leader’s face.

“Is that supposed to bother me, light-skin? If so- I ain’t bothered” Alec responds, a half-hearted insult levied that has the same effect on the man he stands before. “Let’s get two things straight, preppy. First thing... I ain’t light-skinned- I’m Cuban” Nolo rejoinders, backed up by the rest of his group, who stand close by with grins on their faces, “second thing, it wasn’t meant to bother you. I just wanted to remind my boy that little kids like you don’t have a word to say worth hearing.”

“Is that true? Alright then- how about I prove you wrong?” Alec challenges, only for his retort to fall unoffered as the cavern begins to flash with the colour red whilst the siren proceeds to ring once more. “The stratum can wait... go ahead” Nolo recalls, bringing the young man’s focus back on the conversation at hand, not wishing to let the next race keep him from sharing his thoughts.

“I’ll tell you what, why bother getting under your skin with words, punk?” Alec responds, backing away from the rival group’s leader with his teeth on presentation, “let’s just let my driving do the talking, huh?” Pleased with the conclusion reached, Nolo nods to himself whilst wearing a smile as he turns toward his still-closed garage door, “I like the sound of that!” he shouts back, leaping in his place after patting Kurt on the shoulder, ready for the battle to be waged in the next leg.

Hurrying alongside Ellis into the control room, Caesar takes his typical seat before the onboard cameras, all showing various routes taken toward the tracks that lead to the rejuvenated sphere of energy at the centre of his second level. With a quick few punches of the keys, the scientist finds himself afforded a full screen worth of information that his machines take from the concentration as readings.

“Are our recon bots ready?” Caesar inquires, looking to the mechanic over to his right before finding a pleased expression. “They sure are” Ellis replies, turning away from the desk he normally faces during these legs in an effort to march toward the back of the room, a second and completely separate set of monitors offering a point of view distinct from those of their drivers.

“Good” Caesar says simply, watching as his right hand man directs the various robots through the air as the second level begins to flash yellow, continuing to buzz as he whispers to himself, coming to one conclusion off the coded language that’s plastered upon his closest screen in a voice too low for anyone other than himself to hear.

== Driveline ==