S1, E9 | The Unavoidable Sense of Dissent

“According to what I’ve been able to decipher, stratum keys are tokens left behind by the forces responsible for creating the races” Caesar remarks, looking into the recorded footage that had been captured by the younger Wayland sibling’s onboard camera. “Though I’ve yet to learn the way in which they’ve gone about doing so, I believe this purple glow was a result of the drone vehicle using a stratum key it had won prior to this race” he proceeds, “likely the one won in the Storm Stratum.”

“So these keys give you superpowers?” Vert questions, occupying the seat Talia would normally be seated in, only her absence allows him to take it for himself and use his own chair as a footrest. “I wouldn’t go as far as to call them ‘superpowers’. I feel as though ‘advantages’ is a more preferable term to use” Caesar responds, switching to the dash cam captured on Kaiyo’s second in command for a different, more obstructed angle of the key’s use.

“So if they really wanted to, these robots could just use the key they got from the Storm Stratum and zap us with it?” Dale wonders aloud, as curious as the members of the other three teams are. “I suppose they could. I’m not quite sure how they went about using these things, however” Caesar answers, taking the key back from his right hand man, Ellis having stayed off to the side to spectate the meeting, “it could be a number of things, but I’ll need more time to study this to find out.”

“So it’s really just a shiny accessory for now?” Alec wonders aloud, the question intriguing enough for the rest of the groups to justify not shuddering at the sound of his voice. “I’m afraid that’s not too far off from the truth here” Caesar confesses, holding the object that appears less heavy than it actually is, still slightly taken aback at the great power he wields in just the palm of his hand, “in due time, clarity will be offered. When that will come, however? I’m not sure.”

“If we’re earning advantages for winning the stratums, wouldn’t that guarantee that there’s something more to this than just the races?” Harland inquires, trying to distance himself from the present in favour of eyeing the future. “If we’re earning these keys, then whatever powers may be are trying to make it easier for us to win whatever races we go into after that” the Crew’s leader remarks, “if there’s a point to making the races easier to win, there must be a point to winning them.”

“Yeah, no shit. Everyone knows there’s a point to winning the races” Alec interjects, his voice once again drawing the ire of those outside of the Esteemed, “what I wanna know is who won them before.”

“Come again?” Caesar inquires, unsure of what the arrogant driver across the room is trying to get at. “You said these stratums only open every few hundred years a couple days ago, when we first got here?” Alec questions back, working his way back around to a genuinely decent point, “if we’re only getting these keys now, then what happened to the people that won them those hundred years ago when the stratums opened last time?”

“Wait, preppy’s got a point” Kurt replies, forcing himself to give credit where it’s due, “if these stratums opened before, then either that key we’ve got is just a copy of the one that they won, or- alternatively- it could be the same exact key.”

“The only issue with that theory is that I’ve never found proof that other racers had entered the stratums when they opened before” Caesar responds, shaking his head with disappointment as he gently slides his thumb over the key’s face, “traces of them were documented, but never entry to them.”

“What is this research you’re doing?” Vert interrupts, pulling the focus of the group onto himself just as anyone who speaks up does, “you talk all about what you know or understand or whatever, but am I the only one who finds it odd how you know all of this?” With the line of dialogue redirected, the drivers’ interest begins to find itself diverting from the course the scientist had initially set it to, his unphased reaction and continued presentation of professionalism all that’s offered.

“I haven’t told you the whole story and I made that clear before you went into the first leg of the race. When the time comes, I’ll tell you more without you having to pester me to” Caesar concedes, his modest stance proving enough for the racers to settle their escalating questions. “I suppose that- had drivers entered the stratums in the times that they had opened- they could’ve won keys in theory” the scientist proceeds, “I suppose I can perform some carbon dating on this key, if you’d like?”

Receiving no objections, the scientist nods toward the group and dismisses them, “you are all free to go” he proceeds, walking off for the control centre to the room’s side whilst the racers disperse. “Oh, just one more thing!” Caesar adds on, barely able to call out for his drivers’ attention before they can squeeze through the room’s exit, “I just wanted to take a moment to commend Alec for his performance in the last stratum.”

With a pleased grin on his face, the Esteemed’s leader nods as he looks back toward the displeased members of the rival teams, taking no greater satisfaction than what he receives from watching Nolo’s head lower in disappointment. “I believe quality driving is worth taking notice of when it’s presented. I also believe that those quality drivers are also worth being recognised for their performance” Caesar doubles down, “I’d highly recommend the rest of you learn from Mr. Mayweather.”

Sharing in each other’s dissatisfaction, the non-Esteemed drivers present various displays of irritation toward the victorious racer as they pass him by, walking off with their peers. Following through on his departure into the adjacent room, Caesar’s lead is followed by his right hand man, who makes a point to gently close the door prior to speaking out.

“Are you trying to start a fight?” Ellis inquires, watching as the scientist places the stratum key atop the desk closest to his monitors and turns back, an eyebrow raised. “If there could be anything that would unite the Crew, Kaiyo, and the DSRC- it would be how much they hate the Esteemed” the mechanic doubles down, a squint carried in his eyes, “I know making not only the Esteemed- but their leader- the centre of attention is you trying to do something, I’m just not sure what it is.”

Subduing his amusement, Caesar removes the thin glasses he’d worn over his face and delicately places them beside the powerful card from the prior race. “In the first stratum, the racers got in each other’s way. In the swamp stratum, the same was the case” the scientist explains, clarifying his intentions to the closest man in his inner circle, “Alec’s presence in the last race was enough to put the Wayland sibling’s issues on hold. I know they want to beat him, and rather badly, might I add?”

“And pointing him out as a ‘quality driver’ as you put it was- got it” Ellis replies, cutting himself off as he articulates the answer in his head. “Hopefully, the drivers will take from this that winning is more important than beating each other- which keeps getting in their ways” Caesar responds, lifting his chin as he turns back toward the screens in front of himself, “and with how the Corporation will react to losing the last race, it’s best they get on the same page as soon as possible.”

= 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 =

“Hey, preppy!” Taro calls out, his voice kept to a reasonable tone, though the declarative nature of it prompts the group as a whole to turn around as if shouted for. “Not all of you” the Crew’s co-founder replies, watching as all four heads turn around to take notice of him, his finger lifted toward the slightly-disheveled member, his unironed clothing making it easier for the member to stand out from his peers, “just the one who decided he was gonna fuck up and take me down with him.”

Bowing his head to best conceal his smirk, Ross holds back a more subdued chuckle whilst Alec and Lana allow the humour they take to be made more apparent. “Let me guess, you’re gonna tell me to stay out of your way or face the consequences- or some threatening stuff like that?” Alec’s best friend replies, continuing to take amusement out of the Crew co-founder’s approach whilst Eric stands by, his arms crossed and head bowed so as to keep himself out of the issue.

“I don’t need to threaten you to get my point across. I’m a driver, not a cage fighter” Taro responds, continuing to descend the steps with the rest of his group following behind, “but yeah, I’d strongly suggest that- if you fuck up somehow- you should stay out of my way.” Not feeling too keen on being made out to look inferior to the rival racer, Ross allows his pride to take control of his actions as he steps forward, more than willing to allow the nearby DSRC and Kaiyo squads a front seat.

“And what if I don’t, tough guy?” the Esteemed lacky replies, shrugging his shoulders whilst the rest of his group follows along, Eric doing so begrudgingly, “are you gonna beat me up? Are you gonna fuck with my car like your friend over there did to his brother?” Curling his lip upward, Mark steps forward in an attempt to assure the enemy racer of his accuracy, only for his superior’s outstretched hand to hold him off from doing so.

“No, I don’t need to do either of those things” Taro answers, his voice continuing to carry it’s composed tone despite the displayed attitude his rapscallion teammate provides from an arm’s length away, “I just felt it was important to make sure that you and your buddies got the memo.” Pressing his lips together, Ross nods toward the man and pats at his chest, doing so with the faintest amount of power over what would be considered playful or civil.

“Loud and clear, big guy” the Esteemed competitor assures, turning his back toward the group before walking off from the rival faction, their demeanour not sitting well with those they leave behind. Turning his head, Eric mouths “I’m sorry” to the competing squad whilst wandering off with his preppy acquaintances, a gesture that leaves Taro to only lift his chin upward at, implying he understands and holds little against the man.

“What the hell was that, Taro?” Mark questions aloud, hands held out at either side as he steps in front of the higher-ranking member of his team, “what’s the point in letting everyone else watch you let those rich snobs walk all over us like that?” Turning his face toward the younger member of his team, Taro offers no answer to the teammate’s inquiry, his comment only redirecting the discourse to where he wishes for it to be taken, “we have something to talk about.”

|

“How’re you feeling?” Tyson inquires, extending a bottle of water to the leader of his group, watching as Butch assists him with the bandages that cover his road burn. “Better than that Kaiyo lady” Dale replies, wincing in pain as his club’s vice president dabs his injuries with a rubbing alcohol-soaked cloth, “I know the others are supposed to be our rivals, but I can’t help but feel bad for what happened to her.”

“Yeah, didn’t she break her wrist or something?” Pat questions from the opposite side of the room, too much of his attention paid to the pinball machine he stands at the controls of to turn his body toward the others. “She broke a few bones in her arms and messed her shoulder up pretty badly” Tyson answers, not needing much time to formulate a reply, “I overheard some of the others talking when I was coming back from the garage.”

“You making friends with the enemy now, son?” Butch jokes, smirking as he does so whilst reaching for a set of fresh bandages. “I’m not making any new friends that aren’t already in this room right now” Tyson replies, assuring the man of the contrary, “with that said, let’s not pretend like some of the other drivers aren’t at least easier to get along with than others.”

“You talking about the richies over in the other hut?” Butch questions back, smacking his club’s leader on the hip as the man winces again, “calm down, you big pussy! It’s just a bandage- it don’t hurt that much.” Responding with nothing more than the flip of his middle finger, Dale fights through the stinging sensation that climbs up his body whilst the work is done, the club’s own taking care of each other.

“Not necessarily. Most of those rich kids are massive pains in the ass” Tyson replies, lowering himself into a chair that sits in the corner of the room, “but that Eric kid isn’t that bad.” Shrugging, Dale shakes his head and lets the point settle, able to breathe a sigh of relief as- for the moment- the amateur work on his wounds comes to a pause.

“I don’t mind most of the others; I only avoid them on the basis of principle” the DSRC shot-caller replies, unscrewing the cap to the bottle of water that stands nearby, “we came to this place with only each other to depend on. When we leave this palace- that much should still be the case.”

“‘Tolerate’ and ‘depend on’ aren’t synonyms, Dale” Tyson rebukes, a gesture that neither man across from him seems to argue otherwise toward, “we can get along with the others without expecting to invite them to family barbecues when all is said and done.”

“Hold up, what does cinnamon have to do with anything?” the biker club’s leader questions back, only to groan with pain as his vice president swats at his side once more. “Synonym, Dale. It means two things that are different but mean the same thing” Butch explains, again receiving the display of the leader’s middle-most finger before his eyes take toward his son for confirmation, “that is what it means, right?”

“Pretty much, yep” Tyson responds, nodding in approval whilst Pat speaks up from across the room, continuing to focus on the machine that he wages a pretty enviable performance on. “The Kaiyo and Crew people aren’t bad, for what it’s worth” the younger member of the club calls back, his comments catching the ear of those behind himself, “Kaiyo’s cars could be a little less hideous and the people in the Crew could seem a bit off-putting at times, but they’re not that bad.”

“Kaiyo people like pot as much as we like beer, and the Crew drive cars that are as loud as our bikes” Tyson adds on, lending validity to his friend’s point, “we sure as hell at least have more in common with them than we do with the rich bastards up the hall.” Restraining himself from audibly presenting a groan or sigh from the pain that surrounds the entirety of his side, Dale waits for his vice president to pause before speaking aloud.

“At the end of the day, the only people we have that can look out for us are each other” the DSRC’s leader responds, pushing himself away from the bench that his uninjured side rests atop in order to sit up as best as he can. “I know it’s hard to be the only young people in this club; and I know that us old farts aren’t always easy to see eye-to-eye with. If you wanna make friendly with people in the other groups, I ain’t gonna stop you” Dale proclaims, “just remember who’ll look out for you.”

|

“At least I’ll have a cool cast for a bit” Talia murmurs, laying back against the pillow that sits at the top of her hospital bed, one she’s yet to be granted clearance to depart from, “it’ll still be a pain in the ass to work around though.” Amused, Vert crosses his arms in the comfort of the chair just a few feet to the side whilst extending a lit joint toward his teammate.

“You think you’ll be able to handle holding this?” the younger man inquires, watching the woman’s grin overtake her face as she nods reassuringly, overjoyed to be reunited with her vices. “You bet your ass I can. If not, I’ll figure out a way to make it work” Talia replies, pressing her lips against the cannabis-filled cigarette as the room’s front door slides open, granting entry to a visitor she had not been anticipating.

“Are you feeling any better than you did yesterday?” Eric inquires, slowly walking into the room without a member of either side’s groups to be seen. “I have a joint in my hand- that’s gotta count for something” Talia jokes, holding back the cloud of smoke that fills her lungs whilst letting it stay, keeping it in for as long as she can whilst her friend from across the divide that separates their sides draws closer.

“That’s all that matters then” Eric responds, smiling as he approaches the opposite side of the bed from the man across from him. “If only they had a kiosk for you to grab a stuffed animal or something from” Vert quips, comfortable enough around the rival side’s member to joke at his expense, “maybe that would really get you in her good graces, huh?”

Both amused and slightly embarrassed, Eric hangs his head and holds back his laughter whilst the wounded driver pays her teammate a humorous side-eye. “Alright, alright- I’ll take the hint!” Vert proclaims, lifting his hands in a show of surrender before quickly taking a final hit from the blunt, “just take it easy on her, won’t you? She’s a little fragile right now.”

Taking the blunt back to her lips, Talia plays into the funny games by snatching a pillow off from the side of the bed and tossing it at her teammate as he steps away, a sidestep allowing him to dodge the fluffy projectile and make a hurried dash through the door. “He doesn’t really think we’re a thing, does he?” Eric inquires, retreating from the bedside to reclaim the launched headrest from the floor.

“No, Vert’s just one of those funny guys. It’s his way of showing support or comfort- or whatever’s needed in the moment” Talia responds appreciatively reclaiming the pillow that her friend extends to her, “you and I are pretty low-hanging fruit for him.” Understanding, Eric nods off at the disclosure and lets his head hang, his hand patting the railing that’s been erected on the woman’s injured side.

“Well, I just wanted to come by and check on you” Eric responds, waving dismissively toward the room’s entrance, “Ross and the others are picking fights with the Crew, so I figured now wouldn’t be a bad time to drop in and make sure you were coming along okay.” Flattered and genuinely grateful, Talia looks into the man’s shy and reserved face whilst nodding.

“I’m doing better” she reassures, allowing her body to sink further into the soft embrace of the pillow underneath her head. “Good” Eric responds, not knowing how else to reply other than with the simplest rebuttal, his feet carrying him away from the bed and back the way he came without certainty over what else to do, “that’s good to hear!”

Turning his back, Eric makes for the distance that separates himself and the room’s exit, prepared to leave with the certainty that his friend’s recovery is close to guaranteed. “Hey, Eric?” Talia calls back, prompting the man to stop in his tracks and turn around, eyes taking to the woman that now sits up in her bed, trying to get back to something close to resembling eye-level.

“Thank you” she remarks, looking the man in the eyes whilst sucking on her lips, unsure of what more to say than that, “I don’t know what it was going to do before you got there, but whatever it was probably wouldn’t have been pretty.” Bowing his head, Eric’s reservations resume as he tries to conceal the flattery that he takes in the declaration. “I just wanted you to know that...” Talia concludes, watching as the man’s face lifts back toward her, “...I appreciated it.”

Smiling back, Eric clears his throat as he tries his hardest to lessen the awkward silence that he reacts with at first, looking for whatever he can say to make himself seem less like an oddball than he feels himself coming off as. “Of course” he replies simply, bowing his head again as he turns around once more, stepping through the door to the woman’s room and returning to the corridor he’d entered from, a set of footsteps drawing toward him once he exits.

“Hey, Eric!” Nolo calls out, his path crossing with that of the kind-hearted rival driver, keeping him from continuing on as he takes a moment to speak with the younger competitor in private. “Listen, I don’t want this to come off as more than it is. I don’t want you to take this personally or like some attack or anything, alright?” the Kaiyo driver proceeds, making himself clear before any alternative has the chance to appear true.

“I’ve got nothing against you. I don’t mind you being around my team, I don’t hate you, I don’t hold a grudge against you- none of that stuff. I actually kinda like you” Nolo confesses, allowing himself to not look at the Esteemed racer as an inferior, “you’re a cool dude. You seem to have a good heart, and I obviously owe you a big one. You looked out for Talia, you got her back here safe, and you sacrificed your own spot in the stratum to do so. I really appreciate that.”

“But this has nothing to do with me, it’s got everything to do with my friends” Eric nods, already aware that the compliments that he’s paid are coming as the result of something else. “Everyone in Kaiyo seems to be cool with you. With that said, I don’t think the guys you’re rolling with are too fond of you being around us” Nolo concedes, disappointed in having to do so, “it’s not that you’re a problem, but I don’t want your guys starting trouble with us over it, y’know what I mean?”

“I hear you. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my distance” Eric reassures, watching the relieved expression come over the Kaiyo leader’s face. “Thank you, man. I’m glad we’re on the same page” Nolo confesses, patting the Esteemed driver on the shoulder before continuing on, drawing closer to his teammate’s room in the infirmary before a sudden thought comes over him, drawing his curiosities back toward where he’d come from.

“Hey, wait a minute” Nolo calls back, a thought in his mind not quite sitting as well as he’d initially thought it would, the last-second declaration prompting the rival racer to turn back. “Why are you so okay with it?” the Kaiyo driver inquires, appreciative of the ease in which the conversation was settled with, but curious as to the lack of issue that it led to, “don’t get me wrong- I’m glad you are. But still, that was easier than even I had thought it’d be.”

Hanging his head initially, Eric stands with his thoughts for a moment as he shrugs, coming clean once questioned. “I know my friends are assholes. I don’t see them the same way others do, but I know why others look at them- again- in the way they do” the most affable member of the wealthy squad confesses, “when you’ve been around them long enough, you get used to having people back away and ask for space because they like you but not your friends.”

Pulling his head back with a more clear understanding, Nolo watches as the driver opposite him again turns away to retreat, the thoughts that sit at the front of his mind again proving too strong to avoid. “I know they’re your friends and all, and I get that there’s probably more to them than just the annoying part that the rest of us see them as. But still, you owe yourself more” the Kaiyo leader explains, “you’re a good dude, Eric. You shouldn’t have to make sacrifices ‘cause of your friends.”

Having made himself aware of that long ago, Eric remains standing in the corridor thinking of the man’s point whilst the Kaiyo leader’s feet finally make it through the infirmary’s entrance. Left to himself, the lowest-ranking member of the Esteemed eventually returns to his initial departure, walking the rest of the way toward the greater areas of the second level whilst repeating Nolo’s point internally.

|

“No, Wayland... You laughed” Taro doubles down, calmly seated upon the couch at the centre of the Crew’s clubhouse, refusing to back down from his initial claim. “Like I said, Taro- it was somewhat ironic!” Mark retorts, defending his stance whilst the other members watch on, occupying different sides of the sofa, “you’d done so much to keep me from passing you, and in the end- it was that preppy little shit that knocked you out of the race. That’s at least a little amusing.”

“The fact that you were laughing about your own getting knocked out of the race at all is bad enough, Wayland” Harland responds, taking over for his hierarchical equal as the conversation persists. “Taro’s being generous. The fact of the matter is, he shouldn’t have had to keep an eye out for you at all” the Crew’s leader doubles down, “we’ve got eleven other drivers to look out for- twelve if the quiet girl with the headphones makes a full recovery. We don’t need to be looking out for you.”

“I’m a good enough to driver to handle looking out for Wayland even if I shouldn’t have to” Taro interjects, holding enough power for his interjection to be warranted, “the problem that I have is the fact that I had to be teaching the guy something he should already know.” With a simple nod of his head to the right, Harland retreats from the conversation and hands its control back over to the co-founder, agreeing with the statement.

“Guys I can follow orders better than anybody, my point is-” Mark begins to reply, defending himself before being brought to a silence. “Clearly you can’t” Taro interrupts, refusing to allow his subordinate to make a claim that can’t be proven true on action alone, “at the very least, you have enough trouble following orders to cost us an entire race.”

“Yeah, that shit can’t fly, Wayland” Harland remarks, tacking onto his co-founder’s point, “we’re not putting you on trial here, but we did want to make it clear that you’re making the ice underneath you real fucking thin.” Keeping his head low, Ronny chooses to stay out of the conversation, allowing the three much more physically-imposing figureheads to continue the discourse whilst he prefers to play the role of a spectator.

“It’s one thing for us to lose because we weren’t good enough that day or because we got messed up by one of the other groups. It’d be aggravating as hell, but it’d be one thing” Harland proceeds, naturally composed in his delivery, but appearing distinctively irritated when compared to the composed and undisturbed demeanour that his co-founder projects, “but being cost a race because of one of our own is an entirely different thing.”

“So what, are you gonna kick me out or something!?” Mark quips back, the momentary pause that carries on after the asking of his question bringing an immediate sense of nervousness over the younger Wayland sibling. “We don’t want to, but the more trouble you become- the more tempting you make that sound” Harland confesses, eventually coming around to saying the quiet part that no one else wants to, “the only one that can kick you out at this rate is you- and you’re really working toward it.”

Blanking on how to respond, Mark looks toward the disheartened expressions worn by the three men across from him- Ronny included- without much in the way of bringing about change. Accepting defeat to his inability to create a rebuttal, the centre of the group’s discourse turns around and makes for the room’s exit, leaving behind a squad as lost for answers as he is.

“Was that a bit harsh?” Harland inquires, letting out a sigh as he walks toward the opposite direction, begging the question for either man to answer. “Kinda” Taro admits, crossing his own arms whilst tilting his chin upward, his face directing itself toward the ceiling, “it was warranted though. He needed to hear the truth.”

Falling victim to an odd silence that comes over the room, the Crew sit with their thoughts whilst Mark ventures away from the clubhouse area, visibly perturbed and dejected. Going their separate ways for the moment, the two sides retreat to different avenues as the issues begin to settle, both parties having made their cases heard and allowing fate to make the decision on what outcome comes of it.

== Driveline ==