OK Number 38 - The Brecon Marathon is Decadent and Depraved

Kallen huffed as she crested the hill. Letting off the acceleration for a moment as the undulating road began to fall away from her. Her brow was lined in sweat and her chest felt bound by the pressure of oceans as she approached the descending set of winding curves that lay ahead, winding down towards the base of the rotation. The cold air rushed past her face as she tried to roll back the speed she carried over the hill, gently applying deceleration to avoid putting too much force through her feet into the tarmac.

Bringing down the pace as she felt her guts rise through her body, she leant into the flowing Welsh curves as she fell through the Brecon Beacons, with all her focus fixated on maintaining her flow and momentum as she approached the end of her lap of the mountain track.

Her running lap of the mountain track, to be exact.

The front of her shins, now acting as brakes, were alight, and she could only just about force air through her lungs in phlegmy gulps. The marathon route was well trod, which stunned Kallen given how taxing the path was, climbing two and a half kilometres through some of the highest mountains in Britain before winding back down, settling into the wet, cold, miserable, dark valley whose pubs were devoid of distinguishable accents and homes were devoid of electricity. Kallen had grown to hate it, associating every inch of its muddy miserable country scenery with the feeling of a bloody throat and hobbling ankles.

However, the forty kilometre path had been getting her fit, and she was not playing about when she promised to outwork Suzaku. With four circuits per week, on top of her indoor strength training, Kallen existed with a permanent feeling of numb exhaustion blended with pain, however she had undeniably been improving. She always hit a wall towards the end that she had to push through with miserable brute force, however it had been arriving later and later in the run.

This didn't make the experience any less horrible though.

As she leant into her shins to slow into the finish line, she took one last swig of her hip flask before moving towards a bench outside an outhouse to sit, feeling lightheaded as she caught her breath and looked at her stopwatch.

"Five hours ten minutes… bloody… gotta do… some cooldowns…"

Delirious, Kallen could only lean back into the seat with a listless stare for longer than she cared to admit before beginning to cool down her muscles. Lunging down onto her off knee to stretch her thigh, she barely kept herself upright as she let the muscles unfurl and expel their pent up stress.

So exhausted was Kallen that she failed to observe the large jeep pull up across the road until it let out a large sounding of its horn, which was so surprising to the Japanese driver that she fell over upon being struck by its sudden permeance within her eardrums.

As she sat back up in stunned silence, she caught a hazy glimpse of Euphemia, the dainty woman dissonantly sat at the helm of the hulking off roader, who waved across from the drivers seat.

Kallen frowned, trying to make sense of the scene in front of her and wondering what Euphemia wanted, before she enumerated it with a shout of "Do you want a lift or not?"

Even after Euphemia explained, in her deoxygenated state it took Kallen a few moments to put together what Euphemia had explained, and a few more to haul herself out of the gravel and trudge across the pockmarked tarmac towards her.

"You look pretty beat." Euphemia commented as Kallen climbed in. The redhead did not afford a response as the pair drove off. She simply sank into the seat and allowed the car to drag her out of the hellhole that was southwestern Wales.

It was not until they had returned to civilization, better described as the land subject to Part IV of the Local Government Act 1972, the area consisting of the counties established by section 1 of that Act, Greater London and the Isles of Scilly; England.

Once they had crossed over the border, Euphemia clearly felt safe enough to try engaging with the corpse in the seat across from her, asking "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty spent." Kallen huffed breathlessly, to which Euphemia chuckled "I can imagine! You weren't kidding when you said you'd push yourself."

"You bet your ass."

Even though it was said with little energy or vigor, the stout reply still had some weight, causing Euphemia to smirk with appreciable approval. After a moment, the therapist inquired further, noting "That must be some incredible drive that gets you to keep at that."

Somewhat blindsided by having to think of a meaningful response while barely able to lift her ehad off the seat, she mumbled an uncertain "Eah…", before trying to think about the question and disguise her initial inability to answer.

However, Euphemia, intentionally or not, pressed on, asking "What gets you to do that? I'm curious professionally, it's quite remarkable. What's driving you to push?"

Kallen was more alert when the question crossed her metaphorical desk, however she still lacked a good response. She was doing all this because she wanted to win, but the underlying reasons for this were still undefined. Lelouch, just before Australia last year, had commented that Suzaku had nailed his motivation and sense of purpose to a fine art, with ambition fuelling his endeavour. He had challenged her, asserting that until she found something similar to latch onto and have to pull her along, Suzaku would be unbeatable.

Kallen had not taken this onboard, and it would appear, depending on how you interpreted the events that followed, his words may have been prescient. However, nothing appeared to strike Kallen as obvious.

It was certainly not something Kallen had placed a significant amount of thought into. Indeed, her recent escapades had forced one of her few significant moments of introspection, that not being an exercise that was well practiced. Why was she doing all this?

It was certainly not out of necessity; while Naoto's medical bills had been a concern for a time, Kallen had a reasonable cushion to find some comfort without putting herself through this training, effort, and public pressure. Very rarely was racing pursued as a career based on a financial reckoning; instead, there was something more primal that attracted its best and brightest.

Kallen could recall in great detail every moment she had ever spent at the wheel of a racing car. She could summon up without delay the feel of the felt steering wheel, her hands barely big enough to wrap around it, when she first sat in a kart at the age of three. It was her oldest memory, and brilliantly tactile. The bumps and shakes of the soil still reached through the steering rack and the intervening years.

But most significant was the speed; the edge of her vision blurring as the scenery rushed by and the g-forces tugging at her gut made her feel more alive than anything in the world.

Looking back, she found that she had forgotten birthdays, celebrations, exams, and all the rest; her treasured memories came from the cockpits of racing cars. Her heart rate peaked, her focus was absolute, and every moment was engraved into her memory.

"I guess…" she began, hesitating, "It's the speed, that sense of being on the absolute limit, right on the edge and wringing every ounce out of it. The stronger I get, the more fit I get, the closer I can get to that last few percentage points of what the car can do. The way I do it… I'm literally manhandling the thing, I wrestle the car into positions it isn't meant to be and if I can't hold on, then…"

"So it's the speed that drew you?" Euphemia encouraged.

"Yeah." Kallen nodded, finding more certainty in what she said. "This is the fastest circuit series in the world, and my brother was already in it. I was like a moth to a light."

Indeed, in spite of the case of it being very much the case that she had fallen into the seat by virtue of Naoto's crash, she had been driven to these miracle machines, these wunderwaffe, just to experience what they could do, and what she could do with them.

"I don't know if you watch the races, but there is a sense… every lap… I don't just want to be fast in the sense that I win. I want to be the fastest through every corner, in every lap, at every session. It's the sheer feel, that lightness, where the car is just about to break away from you, where it's just blissful."

"How does it make you feel?"

"Eh?"

"How does that feel, when you're on the lap where it's all going right and you're just flying the car up the road?"

"There's just an immense oneness, the car just feels like an extension of me. We just slither up the tarmac, all four wheels on fire, and all my senses just tune into the road. The road is all consuming, and I'm just swallowed up by it. My heart is racing, but it's the closest to peace I can imagine."

"What's your favourite track?"

"Probably Silverstone."

"Talk me through a lap. Try and imagine yourself driving it as you describe it to me. Use your arms and feet to mimic the movements, whatever gets you in the feel."

"So, I'm at the far left edge of the track, and I'm after feeling it wind all the way up, like a spring. There's a great energy about the thing, and once I pass the board on the right I turn in for turn one. The whole car tugs away under my arms, but I can hold the wheel just so so that it grazes the kerb on the inside, before I swap the lock and it hurtles to the other side. It's-"

"Sorry to interrupt but… how do you feel?"

"I feel pretty good."

"Today's session is cancelled. You deserve the rest."

"Hey, Suzaku! Rolo! Get down here! Lelouch has an announcement!"

Suzaku let out a huff as he allowed the weight plate, propped up on the end of a steel pole, to drop to the floor with a dull thud. He shook, before grabbing a towel to wipe at his face and finally turning to acknowledge the yell from across the small gym, near the basement of the human resources building, across the way from the factory.

"I'll be right down!"

Suzaku made his way to the door, flanked by the baby-faced Rolo. The man from rural Nagano was thoroughly undecided as to the question to his new teammate. On one hand, Rolo was incredibly eager to both learn and contribute, with Suzaku knowing from experience that he was an earnest young man, if somewhat credulous. However, there was a degree to which the whole affair sat poorly with him. Certainly, given that Lelouch had rescued the team, installing his brother as the second driver was well within his rights, but it was hardly a seat earned through endeavour.

Suzaku did not lack self-awareness to such a gross extent to imagine his background as the son of an ambassador did not allow him the ability to pursue his passion and open the door financially. That being said, he had worked he way through F4, winning in his third season, winning F3 in his first season, and then F2 in his first season again. Unlike many of the recent success stories, he had not been backed by a dedicated team youth program, contrasting Kallen who was part of the Rebellion young driver academy, instead having to impress independent teams with his talent. For Rolo to now leapfrog into a seat left Suzaku with a bad taste in his mouth.

However, the young driver was at least graceful about it, making a point of trying to ingratiate himself with both Suzaku and the team at large, offering to help as much as he could and trying to match Suzaku in training hours, if not the weights and speed.

In any case, these musings occupied Suzaku all the way to the main technology centre, where he could see through the glass front that a crowd had gathered in the lobby. A bustling group of some two hundred gained volume once the Japanese driver moved through the door and could appreciate the din, however he pressed to the front to see what was going on.

As he reached the front, the scene unveiled itself. Enjoying a clearing from the crowd, Lelouch stood at the centre of the room, the heels of both his hands dug into the top of his cane, propping him vertically. However, he refused to allow flashes of vulnerability, closing up his torso behind his two arms, forming a protective vee that shielded the centre of his form, with the withdrawn yet assertive look completed with a slightly dipped head and eyes aimed upwards, surveying the crowd through his eyebrows.

He stood as the crowd began to gather at a perimeter, figure still hidden, and allowed chatter to grow through the surrounding factory staff, the volume of the room slowly amping up as they waited for Lelouch to state his intentions.

Suddenly, the Frenchmans head flicked back, his chin reaching for the sky as he exposed his face. It may have played into what Suzaku considered an irritating flair for the dramatic, but it worked; at the sudden motion of throwing his forehead vertically, suddenly he had the attention of the room, with the chatter dying instantly.

With his bent nose presented at full mast, Lelouch's eyes shifted briefly, before he cleared his throat and began.

"First of all thank you for coming. I know you've all had to get used to a completely new model of operation, and you've taken to it fantastically. I'd especially like to thank the fabrication teams, who have done a great job in machining parts under huge pressure. Without them, our situation would be a great deal more dire."

Lelouch's eyes switched from side to side, quietly reading the room, before he cleared his throat and continued, with some hesitation, "However, there have been a few hitches. This is not unexpected, nor is it the fault of anyone here. Given the narrow timeframe we had set ourselves, our limited rescources, and ambitious plans, it was a miracle we had as few issues as we did, and, given how slim our chances of meeting our aspirations were, we should not be discouraged at the first sign of falling short of our initial ideal goals."

Sighing, he shook his head and spoke firmly, but quietly.

"Our car will not be ready for shakedown."

There was a sudden vacuum in the room, the air sucked out of it by the collective and immediate intake of breath. A disillusioned instinct, like a wince sucked through the back teeth, fell on all present, with widened eyes on all faces. Suzaku frowned, with his eyes simply falling to the ground, as Lelouch continued.

"Our attempts to install the fuel cell have failed. We will have to remove the floor and try to install it from underneath. This will have a few implications. We have changed our plans to reveal the car before shakedown and instead will reveal it before testing in Spain. We will perform our planned shakedown tests on the first day of testing in Spain, before proceeding with our initial plans for that two week session. However, if we are to make this date, we will only be able to have one car finished in time for that series of tests."

This was not the worst of all possible situations, as only one car would be allowed to run at Barcelona in any event, however there would be no spares, and the team would be building the second car throughout the test as opposed to new parts to apply to the first based on the data extracted over the course of the test. However, while Suzaku was realistic, Lelouch never said die, and his voice took an even firmer, more fiery tone.

"This period will be all hands on deck. Once we have the floor sealed, our plans and timetables will be dictated by the emerging needs of the project. I cannot imagine, for all of you who have given so much, this is in any way news that makes for pleasant listening."

Lelouch paused, though he was not silent. His breathing grew unsteady, and loud, and he shook himself. He had the full attention of the room, and as his breath returned, he spoke with authority.

"I will be down in the facilities helping in any way that I can. I will make sure I am at the disposal of any and all teams as and when they require an extra pair of hands or consultation on administrative procedure. I will not leave this factory until the car is done. After all, how can I expect you to sacrifice if you see me not also doing so? How do not lead from the front how can I expect you to follow me?"

His rising voice, like a general corralling his troops into a hopeless mission, was infectious. As he spoke the mood rose, the eyes which were down were lifted, and suddenly there was, instead of a dull fatalism, a sudden anticipation of the coming challenges. He had reframed it from something to be mourned to something to be taken on by the horns. They were suddenly the ragtag band taking on the impossible task, an image that sat very comfortably with the engineers, who were now smiling and nodding.

Satisfied, Lelouch, now speaking over what had become a jovial crowd, affirmed "Right then. Not a moment to lose. I've put out emails that set out tasks that need to be done. Each team will grab a reel and work it until it's done. Then you grab the next reel you see. With a few dozen teams, that list of tasks is going to shrink in a real hurry. I believe in you."

I considered an April Fools chapter for today, and very nearly did it, however I decided, to avoid annoying everyone too badly, to compromise. This is a legit chapter, however the fool here is that if you got your hopes up for a return to regular uploads, that will not be soon in coming. While the TEP has abridged term lengths, it has also meant that that which remains is all the more intense. Still, I was able to write this, and I hope I haven't fallen out of practice too badly.

Why don't you let me know by leaving a nice review?

~Eth0