Tire Tracks and Spent Casings
A Gunslinger Girl Fanfic by MP5
Disclaimer: Gunslinger Girl is the property of Yu Aida. All trademarks featured herein are copyright their respective owners. Allison, Brian, Jennifer, Kyo, and Ryo as well as other original characters herein are property of MP5 unless otherwise noted. Michele Pagani and Kara Pagani are the property of Kiskaloo. Mr. Ramsey, Elio Alboreto, and Marisa Alboreto are the property of Professor Voodoo. Gina is the property of Darthtabby. Jay Valentine is the property of Jacen Starslayer.
Chapter 5: Pace Notes (Part 1)
Another day had begun at the Social Welfare Agency, but for Jennifer Fitzgibbons and Brian McDonnell, things were once again not exactly business as usual. Chief Lorenzo and Jean had them in the boss' office together to brief them for a mission that would be executed in a matter of days.
"Fitzgibbons, McDonnell, the specialties of your fratelli will be most essential to this operation." began Lorenzo.
"The operation is asset extraction. Section One has a man in the north who has valuable intel, but he might've been compromised, and now he needs a way out." said Jean.
"Bugger all." hissed Brian. "Not this shite again."
"Why can't he get out unnoticed?" asked Jennifer quizzically. "Why does Section One need us?"
"Because he's neck-deep in Padania territory, and the local cops are on the take." replied Lorenzo. "The bastards have set up checkpoints and they're stopping every car that's outbound from the area."
"Kind of heavy for one man. What bogus crap are they charging him with?" asked Brian.
"It doesn't matter. This meeting is focusing on the reason your fratelli are specifically needed." said Jean. "McDonnell, your cyborg is the best driver out of all the cyborgs. Does she have any rallying experience?"
"A tiny bit. Why do you ask?"
"You and Allison are going to be the first ones there. You'll be there ostensibly for an amateur special stage day rally through a tricky backwoods area that also happens to lead to an ideal RV point wide enough to land a fairly large cargo aircraft."
"That must be where I come in." said Jennifer. "I'm curious, though, why not just Fulton this bloke out of there?"
"Besides the fact that technology hasn't been used by the Italian Government's agencies ever?" replied Lorenzo. "It would mean delivering the necessary equipment for him to use that, and we don't have that kind of equipment or time available."
"Well, you do realize that we'd have to install a rollcage inside the Delta for the rally? That takes time, too." replied Brian.
"Pop by Q-branch before your fratelli start training for the most key part of this operation, they'll have what you need in advance." said Jean.
"Dare I ask what is so important?"
"You'll be landing in a confined space, roughly 1000 meters at most." replied Lorenzo, focusing on a particular map. "There won't be any time to re-set for taking off. So instead, I expect your fratelli to practice boarding a moving aircraft by car."
"Oh, I get it." said Jennifer. "Basically, touch down, drop the ramp, reel them in, ramp up, and off we go?"
"In a nutshell." confirmed Lorenzo.
"Have you people lost your fucking heads?" Brian raged. "That shit only happens in James Bond movies!"
"Well now, you're going to make it happen in real life, and if Marisa could come up with an outlandish plan that worked, then I see no reason as to why we cannot take refuge in audacity, either." replied Lorenzo calmly. "We're giving you—both of you—a week to practice your tactics in advance, and the mission itself has a few days because of the rally, immediately after which the extraction itself must occur."
"We're obviously gonna need a large plane for this. The Marquise is too small, and it's meant for parachute jumps, but not delivery. I'll need time to get a cargo plane that can fit a car and accept its load through a ramp in the back." said Jennifer.
"Make it so." said Jean. "McDonnell, in the meantime, retrieve your mission vehicle and head out to the new area near the test track. We had some Q-branch engineers build a mock-up of the rally course in question. Allison needs to memorize it and get used to the handling of her mission vehicle before she even gets there. I'm expecting no mistakes, McDonnell."
"You won't get any, Jean. Not with my Allison, you won't."
Brian walked out while Jennifer stayed behind to discuss further logistics of the mission. He thought that Allison should probably go with him down to Q-branch, and so he made his way over to the girls' cyborg dorms until he found Allison and Petra's room. Taking a breath, he knocked twice on the door.
"Come in!" called Allison's voice. Brian opened the door and stepped inside to see that Allison was finishing up a stage on Colin McRae's Dirt, a Rallying-based driving game. On-screen, Allison had just blitzed the stage in about five minutes, and she sighed with relief and satisfaction.
"Wanna try the real thing?" asked Brian off-handedly.
"What?"
"Just got back from a mission briefing. In about a week, we'll be heading north to rescue one of Section One's blokes. At the same time, there's gonna be a special stage rally, and that's our in. We'll be actual participants, but that's more of a cover and a practice run on the exfil route. Apparently, Q-branch already has a mission vehicle set up for you, so we won't have to spend time hammering away with the Delta."
"All right! I can't wait to start practicing!"
"Not so fast there, lass. That doesn't mean you get out of lessons. You'll be spending more time training, yes, but you'll still have literature class with Hilshire."
"Aw, man! I hate that class!" complained the brunette teenager.
"Cheer up, you'll be reading The Stranger by Albert Camus. It's a very good book, and what's more, it's short, compared to Madame Bovary. Trust me, you'll have read it within a week. Now then, let's go see what they have for us."
The two then embarked on a quick jaunt down to the Q-branch workshop. Professor Cipriani greeted the pair.
"Well, if it isn't our most ambitious student and her elder brother. Right this way, you two. We just finished her."
Cipriani led the fratello over to a cloth-covered vehicle. "I do hope she's to your liking, Allison." said the professor. "Her rarity's made her a hard catch, but we found one and had it shipped over from the British Isles."
Cipriani pulled the cloth cover off to reveal a 1999 Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution VI Tommi Makinen Edition. It had been prepped for rallying by Q-branch with specialized all-terrain tires, a rollcage, and the ride height had been adjusted to cope with the bumps and jumps native to off-road special stage rallying. Allison's eyes lit up catching the light glinting off of the dark red paint finish only marginally interrupted by the minimalist pinstripe along the sides of the car that indicated it was the special Tommi Makinen Edition version of the Lancer Evolution.
"She's beautiful." said Allison, her hand caressing the hood gently. "Anything tweaked in the engine bay?"
"We used your methods of tuning for that, my dear." Cipriani elaborated, unlatching the hood, exposing the 4-cylinder 4G63 powerplant. "We replaced the standard ball-bearing turbo with a Garrett VGT for better response, we put in an HKS Hi-flow exhaust, new air filter and cold-air intake, and after that... well, that's really all there is. Exhaust and forced-induction tuning."
"Defensive measures?" asked Brian.
"It's a street-legal rally car, not a technical. It's not designed for taking bullets." quipped Cipriani. "That said, we did weave Kevlar and Twaron into the front and rear seats, and the windows are made of ballistically-rated Lexan and laminated. The doors and trunk also boast laminated titanium and CFRP armor plating. However, you don't want to be sticking around too long if there's people with rifles about. It will stop most pistol rounds, but only resistant against rifle bullets."
"And that's why I'm driving this thing, right?" Allison boasted.
"Only because Michele won't let Kara get involved in special-stage rallying." replied Enzo. "That, and this is your specialty."
"Not that there's anything wrong with the Mille Miglia." added Brian quickly. "Anyway, Jean said that Q-branch also built a mock-up of the rally course itself?"
"Not just the rally course, but also the field that you will be extracting from."
"I didn't know the Social Welfare Agency had that much land." said Brian.
"Then you haven't met the gardener."
Elsewhere on the compound, as he trimmed an azalea bush, Section 2's gardener, known to the girls and boys as Mr. Ramsey, sneezed three times in succession.
"Anyhow, would you like to get started with practice so that we can make adjustments to the car? I imagine you would like to place high on the stage time board?"
"You bet!" chirped Allison. "Where's the keys?"
"-Long straight, to over crest, to hard right, to Hairpin, to straight, and finish." recited Brian at machine gun pace as he bounced around in his racing harness, communicating with Allison over their in-helmet intercoms. Scant seconds later, Allison buried the throttle down a long straight before meeting with a jump, and a 90-degree right turn, then flung the tail out as she rounded the hairpin, gunning the throttle as she lined up with the corner exit. Roaring down the final straight of the course, she blew past the line and then brought the Lancer Evolution to a skidding halt, turfing up grass as she did so.
"That was awesome!" exclaimed Allison. "How'd I do?"
"Five minutes flat." replied Brian, looking at his stopwatch.
"Bet I can do it faster."
"Well, that was only the first run. Let's go back and do it again."
And so they did. With Allison at least vaguely familiar with the course, their next run netted her an extra ten seconds less, placing her at four minutes fifty. As Allison pushed further, the subsequent runs gained slightly lower times until they began to plateau around four minutes thirty. By then, they had to take the Lancer back to the Q-branch garage to be re-fueled, but Allison could report her findings to her friends at the workshop.
"How'd she run, Allison?" asked Professor Cipriani upon return.
"Pretty good, but I think the Evo could stand to have an increase in boost pressure. Also, I would tweak the spring rates for quicker bounce recovery. I was already at the next turn, and the car still had not recovered completely after taking a crest. I would also stiffen the suspension, she has a serious tendency to dive under braking."
"Noted, Allison." replied Enzo, scribbling down some notes. "Anything else?"
"Nothing until I've driven the car after the changes have been made."
After a few moments' more discussion, Allison and Brian headed back to the main compound for lunch at the cafeteria. As they sat down to a lunch of lasagna and garlic bread, they were joined at their table by a rather surly-looking Michael McMillan and an unusually ashamed-looking Ike.
"Something the matter?" asked Brian.
"Well, I got my head bitten off by Ferro because this arsehead here-" Michael glared sternly at Ike, who was too cowed to make any jokes, "-couldn't keep the set of Playboy magazines I gave him hidden out of view."
At this, both Allison and Brian did spit-takes.
"Now they've been confiscated, and Ferro had a long talk with me about giving Ike age-appropriate reading material."
"Well what did you expect, giving him magazines full of naked women?" said Brian.
"Mr. McMillan, with all due respect, isn't your goal with Ike to have him avoid offending women's sensibilities?" queried Allison suspiciously.
"Now see, that's the problem there. While Playboy is considered adult literature, it's good reading for the articles. People just tend to focus on the T&A. It's called a 'gentleman's magazine' because it's not all naked women; it's got articles about life, how to live it, and the style in which successful men with a zest for life go about their lives. I personally believe that if he learned some thing from the articles, Ike would grow to be a man who could date any woman of his choosing, and he'd have the means to impress them as well."
"Mike, your boy isn't even thirteen yet." said Brian. "Do you really think he's going to read Playboy for the articles?"
"I'm making him do just that, especially if he doesn't want his drum set taken away and placed on the firing range with bulls-eyes on them."
"You wouldn't dare!" gasped Ike gravely.
"Try me, laddie. Now I will give you a new issue, and what I want you to do is read each and every article thoroughly. I want a detailed essay on each and every article summarizing it and writing your own thoughts on how the information in the article will help you grow as a gentleman. I want these essays in my hand at the end of the week. You have 5 days to do it, so as soon as I hand it to you, don't let Ferro or Jean see it—in fact, guard it with your life—and don't be faffing about. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir." replied Ike meekly.
"I mean that, Issac. You will not be lingering on pictures of naked women when you have essays to write, got it?"
"Yes, Michael."
"Good."
As they watched the exchange in front of them, Brian and Allison couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in confusion.
Allison was on her way back to the Q-branch garage where Brian would meet her for low-light/nighttime driving practice, which would be key to a successful extraction operation. As she went down the corridor, she passed a younger cyborg whose red hair was braided into pigtails, and most notably, was currently trudging in the direction of the gym wearing a solid-colored hockey jersey over pads and carrying her helmet, a pair of roller blades, and her hockey stick.
"Hey Marisa. Big game tonight?" asked Allison.
"Just more of the usual weekly game tonight, Allie." replied Marisa Alboreto. "You gonna watch?"
"Sorry Mari, but I can't this time. Mission training. Don't worry though, next game, I should be able to watch. Score some goals for me, will ya?"
"With pleasure."
Allison continued on outside to the Q-branch garage where Brian was already waiting with the Lancer, the changes already made and its lights running, prepared for a low-light run through the woods.
"Ready for another go?"
"I'm always ready as long as I've got a tank full of petrol and open road."
"Let's go, then."
Allison and Brian tore through the darkened woods at speed right from the get-go, a stunt that no professional would attempt the first time out in a darkened path. But Allison's eyes, like so many of her fellow cyborgs, were not limited to the parameters of human ability. She could see the road clear as day, even as it whipped by under the car in a blur. Once again, the clock registered four and a half minutes at the end of the run.
"One more, before it really gets dark." said Allison. "I'm really gonna push it this time."
"I'm starting to wonder if my bowels will hold under all this fear and excitement." said Brian, his heart pounding from the last run, trying to focus on his pace notes as they sped through the dark. Fortunately, his intestinal fortitude held as Allison managed 4:25 through the course as she pushed the car to its limits before returning it to the Q-branch garage.
The run's not over yet! Keep up your speed!" shouted Brian as Allison concentrated hard on the objective ahead. At the moment, she was closing in on the open cargo bay of a C-130J Hercules transport aircraft that was rolling ahead of her at a steady pace. Allison gunned the throttle on her Lancer as she caught up with the plane and drove up its ramp, shooting into the cargo bay as she quickly stomped the brakes. Flanking the sides of the car, Kyo and Ryo secured wheel chocks onto the Lancer as they signaled a thumbs-up to Jennifer, who increased power and lifted off, barely making it in time to clear the golfing nets that represented the wooded area surrounding the field they would be extracting from. The C-130 soon leveled out as Allison and Brian unlatched themselves from their seats and exited into the main cargo bay.
"That was exciting!" said Allison, high-fiving the twins.
"Yeah, and not bad for a first run, either." said Ryo.
"I bet we can do that a little cleaner. That felt a little sloppy." said Kyo of the situation. Turning to the cockpit, he got on the intercom.
"Jennifer, is there any way for us to practice more?" asked Kyo.
"We can only use the plane once per day, so that's out of the question." replied Jennifer. "However, you're welcome to try a substitute with some sort of car carrier or something."
"Isn't that sort of risky?" asked Brian.
"Well, there's no other way to get the kind of constant practice that this part of the upcoming mission is going to need." replied Jennifer. "Plus, counting having to reduce throttle, this big girl slows down to speeds that a truck rigged with a car trailer could reasonably reach, and that turbocharged mudslinger you two will be meeting us with will be more than capable of catching up."
"So in other words, while not a perfect substitute, it'll do."
"Precisely."
Jennifer banked the bulky cargo plane towards Pratica di Mare Air Force Base for the ride back to the compound. In the back, the teens discussed the upcoming mission.
"So your EXFIL route is through the rally stage you're driving on for competition?" asked Ryo.
"Yeah, according to the briefing that Brian was given. Honestly, I can't wait to participate."
"Well don't beat them too badly, Allie." said Kyo. "Otherwise, you might kill the hopes of some promising young drivers."
"No promises."
"That aside, how do you plan to do the EXFIL at night and you're being chased by hostiles? Brian won't be able to give you pace notes if he's too busy holding them off." asked Ryo.
"I'll just have to memorize the course, turn-for-turn, that's all." suggested Allison in her own defense.
"Can you really do that? The course itself is being run during the daytime, and even during your nighttime practice, Brian was still there to give pace notes. Furthermore, you'll most likely be traveling beyond just full-bore down that same path. When the adrenaline is pumping, every decision you make becomes all the more important. On a normal road, you can just find a way to evade your pursuers. But in the kind of darkness you'll be facing, and the fact that you're flying down a dirt path puts some handicaps on your skills, since there's no parallel roads or routes that you can just turn to. Out there, it'll be just you and your car against the world. You need a surefire way to remember the path you drive on so that all you have to worry about is putting your foot down and using the wheel where it counts the most."
"Yeah, but where to start..."
As the group drove back to the compound in their respective vehicles (McDonnells in the Evo, Kyo and Ryo in the Commodore, Jennifer in her Torana), Allison had some thoughts as she guided her mission vehicle down the Autostrada while Brian took a short nap in the passenger's seat. There had to be a way to have a substitute for Brian's pace notes that she could fall back on. Even as a cyborg, she would be hard-pressed to remember which turns and obstacles occurred when and how fast, and how much time she would have in order to react to it all. Her thoughts were interrupted by an incoming transmission on her CB radio. It was from Jennifer, all the way at the rear of their three-car convoy.
"Hey guys, I think the Torana's plugs need cleaning. How about you folks?"
Allison grinned. Whenever she hung around with Michele and Kara, this was typically the excuse they had for going full-throttle on the Autostrada with cars such as their Aston Martin DB9 or Lamborghini Gallardo. This was the classic 'Italian Tune-up', a process used to burn up carbon buildup from the combustion chambers and exhaust system by running the engine on full load for a certain amount of time. Except in the parlance of the Section 2 petrolheads, this meant simply flooring it for an extended stretch before having to settle back down—regardless of whether the plugs actually needed clearing or not.
"Now that I think about it, so does the Evo." replied Allison. "I don't think I've calibrated the turbo enough."
"And the Commodore hasn't stretched its legs in a while." piped in Kyo. "Shall we go for it?"
"Until we hit the off-ramp, kids." said Jennifer with a rev of the engine, making the supercharger whine. "Ready? 3...2...1, Go!"
At once, all three drivers put down more throttle as their vehicles leapt forward. The needle on the Auto Meter Boost gauge to Allison's right shot up, indicating the maximum 21 PSI of boost at the moment. Brian awoke with a start in the passenger's seat as he felt the jolt of acceleration.
"Ngh—wha? Allison, what's going on?" asked Brian frantically.
"Cleaning the plugs with Jennifer and the others." she replied, not taking her eyes off the road.
"Ah, for chrissakes! That bloody Aussie is as bad as you are!"
The banshee wail of the supercharged Torana grew louder as it loomed in Allison's rearview mirror behind Kyo and Ryo's HSV Commodore. To Allison, it was a sign that she wasn't trying hard enough. She shifted up into fourth, causing the boost gauge's needle to dip momentarily before quickly scrambling back up to 21 PSI. Tapping a '+'-marked button on the in-dash mounted boost controller, she increased boost pressure to 25 PSI, giving her a bit more power and torque to play with as she began to leave the Australian V8's behind her.
"Like you're gonna get away from me..." muttered Kyo, shifting into fifth before letting the clutch out and flexing his right foot on the gas pedal. The LS1 V8 responded with a guttural roar as it put down power to the rear wheels. The big four-door leapt forward in an attempt to catch up with the Lancer, but Jennifer's Torana quickly blew past, greedily seeking the rally-tuned mud-stomper ahead.
"That's Jennifer for ya." noted Ryo. "Can't pass up a challenge."
"Meanwhile, this thing doesn't seem to pose much of a threat." noted Kyo.
"That's 'cause last time I checked, this thing is still stock. A trip to Q-branch ought to fix that. For now, this battle is pretty much between those two."
Up ahead, Allison found Jennifer hounding her in her rearview mirror. Jennifer shifted up into fourth and floored it again, the tires chirping as she accelerated. The Torana accelerated and shot well past Allison, and for a bit, it seemed as if Jennifer was going to run away with the race. Not according to Allison, however.
"So long, farewell, Auf wiedersehen, goodbye~!" sang Allison as she shifted into fifth gear. Gaining power again, the turbocharger gave Allison the top-end power she needed to breeze past Jennifer's Torana, pulling down her eyelid and sticking out her tongue as she passed the Australian by. Jennifer shook her head with a smile. While the Torana had a lot of grunt under the hood, she lacked the gearing to leave Allison behind, as the Torana only had four speeds. In addition, the car was still comparatively heavier next to Allison's, and the supercharger was only good for low to mid-range torque, but could do nothing at the top end of things. This was her loss, but she was still confident that she could school Allison in the future when it came to real horsepower.
After acting like hooligans on the Autostrada, the three cars soon pulled in at subdued pace into the Section 2 parking lot. Jennifer and Kyo waved Allison off as she went to bring the Evo back to Q-branch.
No sooner had Allison pulled in with the Evo and gotten out to hang up the keys when a somewhat high-pitched shout from the other end of the workshop attracted her attention.
"Allison! Allisooooon!"
A slightly mousy-looking black-haired young woman wearing rectangular-framed glasses and a lab coat two sizes too large came sprinting towards Allison and Brian and skidded to a stop, almost sliding on the polished floor and falling. Hands on her knees, the woman (or girl, based on her looks and size) gasped for breath.
"Miss Loreto, are you all right? What's going on?" asked Allison worriedly. The Q-branch worker raised her head to reveal an expression of annoyance.
"I told you, you can just call me Fiona!" pouted Fiona Loreto, 24. The Q-branch technician was a young newcomer to the staff of Section 2, but as a recent MIT graduate after spending time studying in the United States under an exchange program, Fiona was easily as brainy as Professor Cipriani, who was almost twice her age and with more experience. Fiona loved being part of the cutting edge of technology, but meeting Allison in recent years also unlocked her hidden petrolhead side. Despite the age gap, Fiona and Allison were very good friends, and Fiona's physical appearance often made people mistake her for a teenager rather than a young adult professional.
"Anyway, I have the greatest idea ever for the ultimate sleeper car!"
"Really now? Do tell." said Allison, waving Brian off. The elder McDonnell nodded, knowing his sister would be a while.
All right, the base car is going to be a Mini Cooper S—the classic, not the one owned by BMW..."
"Right..."
"But! We stick a twin-cam engine in there!"
"Go on..."
"And then, after we tweak the suspension..."
"Yes?"
"We twincharge the sonofabitch!"
"I think... I think I just had a crisis..." replied the brunette in jest.
"Well that only means we gotta build it, don't we? How soon can you get started?"
Allison shook her head. "It can't be tomorrow or the next couple of days. I'm in the middle of training for my next mission."
"Oh..." sulked Fiona, deflating. "Well then, what am I gonna do without you to help me build it?"
Just sit on the project until I'm done the mission, then we can put all our attention on building the Mini. How about the Formula SAE racer?"
"The brakes are working fine on it, and she corners like a housefly. All that's left is instrumentation and body covering by you guys."
"Thats good. We can finish that up in the next class and then take her out for a run."
"Have a name for this project yet?" asked Fiona.
"I'm thinking I'll call her 'Tempest Zero-One'." replied Allison, thinking of a creative description.
"Sounds more like a call-sign, but I like it." said Fiona. "So what about the Lancer? How's it treating you?"
Allison made a glance at the car beside her before replying. "It's all down to me, now. She's as balanced as she can be for the sort of driving I'll be doing; the only missing bit is me pushing the limit entirely. Practice helps, but I will really have to give it my all when Brian and I head up for the rally."
"Speaking of which, where is it, again?" inquired Fiona.
"In a small place called Rivalba, up north. The rally is really more of an in for us while the true purpose is to extract someone from Section One..."
While Allison chatted with Fiona, Brian lay atop the hood of his RS6, smoking his occasional Camel Turkish Jade. He was in no mood to leave yet, especially since he hadn't bid his younger half a good night, as courtesy called for. Looking up at the evening sky, he watched the stars twinkle for a few seconds before closing his eyes for a bit, allowing his moment of solitude to take him back, back to places he'd wanted to put behind him. Places like MSR Tampa, AKA 'Route Irish' on a 'Bloody Sunday' of his own back in April of 2003.
"Liberty, this is Hedgehog Convoy, requesting immediate assistance; we are under attack! Repeat, Hedgehog Convoy is under attack along Main Supply Route Tampa, over!"
"Hedgehog Convoy, this is Liberty. Say again, what is your location, over?"
"Tompkins, forget the fucking radio and put down cover fire, we need to get off the 'X' now!" Brian yelled, pouring bursts of rounds from his M4A1 out the window.
"McDonnell, we need help! We're fucking stranded out here!" Tompkins yelled back. "Covington, any luck with the engine?"
"I think I almost got it! It should fire on the next tr-"
A lone round streaked through the bullet-resistant glass and impacted the driver's left temple. A fountain of crimson erupted from the entry wound as Covington slumped to his right, his twitching, juddering form falling in Tompkins' lap. The blood continued to spray, covering the interior of their disabled Mercedes-Benz S500, landing on every possible surface—carpets, dashboard, wood paneling, windows, weapons, and even the faces of Brian and Tompkins. Ignoring the sudden loss of their driver, Brian swung left and let fly more rounds from his M4 before the bolt locked back. Going to his vest to place in a fresh magazine, Brian panicked as he found none—the magazine in his M4 was his last.
"Shit!" swore the Irishman, dropping his M4 onto the bloodied floor and reaching up front, yanking Covington's MP5 from his freshly-killed corpse. He swore again as he tried to fire before making the weapon ready, yanking back the cocking bolt and slapping it down again. Aiming the submachine gun haphazardly out the spiderwebbed window, he let loose with the weapon on fully-automatic, firing in bursts. Up front, Tompkins was still trying to raise those lousy Yanks just up the road from them. Where the hell was their backup?
Return fire sought its vengeance on Brian as a loose AK round zipped through his shoulder, throwing off his aim. Gritting his teeth with the effort, he kept firing with his good arm until time came to change mags. Rather than try to reach up front and struggle with Covington's vest, Brian simply dropped the weapon and tore his sidearm—A company-issue Glock 17—from its holster and started popping 9mm rounds out the window. He was losing strength with each pull of the trigger. Brian was putting much of his effort into staying conscious, but as the new sound of thundering fifty-caliber machine guns approached, everything was beginning to go hazy, and the last thing he saw was Desert MARPAT camouflage and he felt a set of arms dragging him out of the car before darkness claimed his sight, gunshots beginning to fade to silence in his ears.
"Evening, Brian." greeted a new voice, snapping Brian out of his chaotic memories. Brian craned his head up to see an older man in a finely-tailored Armani suit.
"Hey Michele." greeted Brian to Kara's handler. "Heading home?"
"Indeed. How was practice today?" asked Michele, striding over to his Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder, parked next to Brian's RS6.
"Well, it's not everyday that I ride shotgun while driving up a ramp into a moving cargo plane, I can tell you that much. Chalk up another batch of grays to my 'sister'."
"For all the stress though, it's worth it, right?" asked Michele, leaning against his Gallardo. "Life with Allison, that is?"
"I suppose." replied Brian with a smile that faded somewhat. "Certainly, I've had closer brushes with death that make me wish Allison had come into my life earlier."
"Mind if I ask for an example?"
"Not at all. In fact, before you came out, I was just thinking of one now. You know I used to be in the private sector, right? Blackwater, Triple Canopy, and their lot?"
"Yes?"
"One of my more pucker-inducing moments had to be an April Sunday in Iraq. My convoy was ambushed along Route Irish."
"I've heard stories about that place, most of them bad." noted Michele.
"And mine was one of them. The car with the principle got away to the Yanks' Camp Liberty, but it all started when the lead got toasted by an IED; no survivors. I was in the rear car, and we'd had our engine disabled—don't know how, since the damn car was supposed to be bulletproof. Me and two other guys trying to get out of there alive. My mate Tompkins was trying to raise those wax-eared yobs over at Camp Liberty, Covington was trying to restart the engine, and I was busy trying to shoot those bastard Hadjis. Covington almost had us going again, but we lost him on his next try—got zapped in the head. I was out of ammo for my M4, so I kept shooting using his MP5, but then I got hit in the shoulder. MP5 ran dry, was down to me Glock, which more desperate men would turn onto themselves at that point; I got shot in the shoulder and I'm bleeding out and ready to die when the Americans finally show up."
"What happened after that?" asked Michele.
"They patched me up and sent me back out. Excalibur had a 'No Whining' policy. If you could still shoot, they sent you back into rotation as soon as you were ready to go again." concluded Brian with a smirk. "Good policy, kept my mind on the money. Not the best way to live, though..."
"Well certainly, there was a lot of risk involved, but then again, how is that any different from what we do now?"
"Different payment policies, I suppose." replied Brian. "Do you know how much they paid me to get shot at? €465 Euros a day."
"And we get paid €300 a day here." noted Michele. "Not so big a difference, is it?"
"Actually, I wish I had that extra €165 a day back. Allison has expensive hobbies."
"And you support them because you love her." concluded Michele with a smile.
"You're right about that, but I can't spoil her the way you do for Kara." replied Brian as he glanced at his watch. "Anyhow, I'm going to stay a little longer so that I can say good night to Allison. See you in the morning, I suppose."
"Take care, Brian." said Michele with a wave. The elder man got into the driver's seat of his Lamborghini, and with a rev of the V-10, he pulled out of the parking lot and made his way to the gates. Soon, Michele's Lamborghini faded to little more than glowing red taillights in the darkness.
Minutes later, Allison came to the parking lot to meet with Brian.
"Fiona talk your ear off again?" asked Brian, flicking the remnants of his Camel away.
"Another project idea, naturally." replied Allison. "We're gonna hot up a classic Mini and make it the ultimate sleeper car!"
"A Mini, huh? Well, I sure hope it won't cost the Agency." said Brian. Allison and her sisters didn't gain a second chance for free; millions of Euros were invested in the very technology keeping the girls alive and fighting fit, not to mention food, lodging, medication, and other logistical expenses. The last thing he wanted to do was allow his sister to be involved in trivial usage of taxpayers' money by building a car on the SWA's dime.
"If this weren't a rescue mission, I certainly would be more likely to shoulder the cost—or rather, 'ex-Padanians' would shoulder the cost of this project." replied Allison with a smirk that caused Brian to frown.
"Looting dead bodies is not an honest way to make money, even if the people it belonged to are terrorists." chided Brian. "If you're not careful, that's going to become a habit."
"Well, if we could be trusted to hold down part-time jobs, I wouldn't have to resort to looting." shot back Allison.
"Can't you just dial back your spending? That's really a better solution." replied Brian.
"I'm a petrolhead, Brian. I always want to make my cars go that much faster, and I'll always be that way."
Brian sighed and shook his head. It would be easier to reign in Allison with an increased conditioning regimen, but it was not something he could bring himself to do. He cared for Allison the way he cared for family. To take away that admittedly bothersome impulse for Allison to sink money into her cars would take away a part of whom she really was. In addition, Brian wanted Allison to live the fullest life she could, no easy task considering she was already living on borrowed time, most of it consumed by missions to even out her cost-per-kill ratio.
"Well then, 'Miss Petrolhead', you need to get to bed. You've got more training to do tomorrow, and you still need to read 'The Stranger'. What do you think about it, by the way?"
"Well, so far, it's kind of... 'eh'. I can read it fair and well enough, but some parts, it drags on, especially regarding the narrator's mum's funeral."
"Don't worry, it'll go by quick, Allison." Brian assured. "Well, I better get going. See you in the morning, kiddo."
"Good night, Brian." said Allison, hugging her handler. Brian smiled and ruffled her hair as he hugged her in return.
"Good night, Allison. Sleep well."
Brian turned to get inside his RS6 and started the engine while Allison made her way back to the dorm. As he turned on the his headlights, he pulled out of his space and tapped the horn. Allison turned to look at Brian and waved goodbye as he did likewise. She watched the red Audi waft towards the gate before she turned to go back to the dorm.
"So how'd things go today?" asked Petra as Allison came back from her evening shower.
"Fairly well. I mounted the plane on the first try. Cleaned the plugs on our way back with the twins and Ms. Fitzgibbons." replied Allison as she climbed into bed.
"Oh, more of that again, I see? You know, Kara and Mr. Pagani are really rubbing off on you." said Petra as she got into her bunk.
"Can't say I don't like it." said Allison. "Every time I hang out with them, I could swear that my right foot gets a bit heavier."
"Excuses, excuses..." said Petra as she pulled the covers over herself. "Good night."
"You too."
While Allison and Petra went to bed, Brian was arriving at his single-bedroom flat in Rome. Ascending the stairs and unlocking the door, Brian was quickly swarmed by his three other roommates.
"I'm back, guys. Did ya miss me?"
Barking happily at his feet were his four legged friends—Stirling the Boston Terrier, Colin the Pembroke Welsh Corgi, and Jackie the Jack Russell Terrier. As they yipped about at his feet excitedly, Brian smiled as he slowly made his way to the kitchen while trying to avoid his rambunctious pets, who were busy making a racket celebrating their master's arrival.
"All right, all right, you'll get your supper, just wait." said Brian patiently to his dogs, still running about frantically as he pulled a plastic container from the fridge. The meal wasn't anything special—beef and some vegetables in gravy. Yet the moment he opened the lid, the McDonnell dogs quickly sat patiently abreast in line as Brian went about heating up their supper to warmer temperatures, and they calmly approached their dishes when Brian finally served it to them.
Though not to the extent that Allison did, Brian had a love of cars and racing all his own. His dogs were named after three racing greats: his Corgi was named for the late Colin McRae, of whom Brian was a great fan, and his Boston Terrier and Jack Russell were named after Formula One greats Jackie Stewart and Stirling Moss, the only difference being that 'Jackie' was female while her namesake was male.
As the little group ate their dinners in peace, Brian flicked on the high-definition television in the living room from the kitchen. Rather than concern himself with the usual news about Italy's state of civil turmoil (of which he already got enough at work), Brian's TV was almost always tuned to BBC Two, and he had just turned on the television in time for this week's episode of Top Gear. Presenter Jeremy Clarkson's voice narrated what was up ahead for the next hour.
"Tonight: Richard Hammond runs from the rozzers in a muscle car... Captain Slow arranges his spanners for pit crew duty... and we drive supercars in a tunnel—upside-down."
His interest piqued, Brian turned up the volume. He would later fall asleep on the couch accompanied by his faithful companions.
Meanwhile, back at the Section 2 compound, things were a little different. Allison's mind brought her into a strange dream:
Allison found herself in a forest, driving her Delta along a misty, twisty road, attacking the corners in the manner she was accustomed to, balancing precision, power and grace. As she carved her way through the seemingly-endless road, a pair of headlights broke through the fog that occupied her rearview mirror. Allison eased up on the gas to see what it was, and for that brief second, the newcomer broke out of the fog driving a Pearlescent Lime Green Caterham Roadsport SV with two yellow-orange racing stripes down its center.
The Caterham flashed its headlights twice, and Allison frowned. Whoever was behind her was rudely passing her off as a slow driver. Allison responded by shifting up and giving the engine more gas to attempt leaving the Caterham in the wake of her Lancia. The speedometer climbed from 50 mph to 70 in a matter of seconds as the Delta was pushed closer to its tires' gripping limit as it sped through the winding road in the foggy low-visibility conditions. After a few turns, Allison glanced in her rearview mirror. Surely, that would show that Caterham driver that Allison McDonnell was no pushover!
Much to her shocked countenance, Allison found the Caterham bearing down on her, the 1.8-liter Rover K-series engine roaring in her ears. Allison went up another gear and mashed the gas pedal, willing her rally-bred hatchback to go faster. However, the Caterham only got closer and closer, and as Allison was forced to slow down to prepare for the corner ahead, the Caterham shot past her, and a brief flash of red from its taillights was all the warning Allison had before she helplessly watched the Caterham slide its rear wheels into the turn, performing a flawless four-wheel drift around the hairpin up ahead. The tail of the Caterham disappeared around the fog of the 180° corner, and as soon as Allison rounded it not a second after, all she was met with was the fog and darkness of the winding road, nothing to indicate that the Caterham's driver had made a fatal mistake. It was simply gone, having disappeared into the great unknown.
The next day would see many of the Generation 2's in Hilshire's Literature Class. Kara stood as she read a passage from Albert Camus' The Stranger:
"The scorching blade slashed at my eyelashes and stabbed at my stinging eyes. That's when everything began to reel. The sea carried up a thick, fiery breath. It seemed to me as if the sky split open from one end to the other to rain down fire. My whole being tensed and I squeezed my hand around the revolver. The trigger gave; I felt the smooth underside of the butt; and there, in that noise, sharp and deafening at the same time, is where it all started. I shook off the sweat and sun. I knew that I had shattered the harmony of the day, the exceptional silence of a beach where I'd been happy. Then I fired four more times at the motionless body where the bullets lodged without leaving a trace. And it was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness."
"Very good, Miss Pagani. You may be seated." said Hilshire as Kara nodded and sat back in her seat. "So, class. Based on what the book has described, how much of a turning point has this become?"
Jay raised his hand, and Hilshire pointed to him. "Well, up to this point, Meursault has been pretty content with his life. I'm guessing he's going to get arrested or something like that, though this is colonial Algeria..."
As Jay continued his input, Allison paid little attention, reflecting on the dream she'd had the previous night. Something about that dream was off. For no apparent reason, seeing that Caterham gave her a strange sense of deja vu, but it wasn't as if she could readily put her finger on it. That Caterham had a familiar presence to it, if only she could remember where from...
Allison was brought from her thoughts when a whiteboard dry eraser smacked her head. Allison looked up to see Hilshire down below, tossing a capped dry-erase marker up and down in his hand.
"I see you've finally decided to join us, Miss McDonnell." stated Hilshire with curt sarcasm. "Pray tell, how is the shooting of the Arab man going to affect Meursault's life?"
"Uhm... he's going to jail?" Allison answered in question.
"Mr. Valentine has already stated that. Is there more you can add to that, aside from the obvious?"
"Well, er..."
Hilshire sighed. "Miss McDonnell, I implore you, please pay more attention in class." He turned to go back to the board when Allison made an outburst.
"Wait! I wasn't finished!"
Hilshire spun on his heel and faced Allison. "You weren't? Then perhaps you can contribute a useful observation?"
"Yes." affirmed Allison, starting to go into B.S. Mode. "Meursault is not a man controlled by emotions; he's by nature an existentialist. It cannot, therefore, be truthfully said at this trial that this was crime of passion. All he cares about are his own physical needs and desires and how to satisfy them. He didn't shoot the Arab because he feared for his life. If anything, he only shot the man because he was starting to get bothered by the sun."
Allison waited as Hilshire mulled over what she had said, hoping he would buy it.
"Hm, fair enough, that's certainly correct." replied Hilshire to Allison's surprise (which she did her best to hide). "Meursault doesn't divulge anything about his emotions or any specific reason as to why he shot the Arab with the knife, only that he was bothered by the heat and bright sunlight. Good to see that you do analyze the text, Allison. You may sit down now."
Allison did as told, and the moment she sat down, Hilshire continued with his lecture. Allison leaned over to Kara and spoke in a low voice.
"I can't believe he bought that. That was a complete shot in the dark." said Allison.
"I certainly can." replied Kara.
"How?" asked Allison in bewilderment.
"Sparknotes." replied Kara with a smile.
"That's just cheap."
With the blow of a whistle, Allison, Kara, Chiara, and Silvia leapt from their starting blocks into the 25-meter swimming pool in front of them, mid-air streamlining (arms over and behind head forming an arrowhead, legs and feet close together, toes pointed) allowing them to spear the water rather than bomb into it and create a huge splash in their respective lanes. After the weight of their heavier bodies gave them momentum through the water (mixed with precise amounts of salt by Q-branch to increase buoyancy) for a few seconds, the four broke to the surface and began propelling themselves across to the shallow end using the butterfly stroke as their classmates cheered them on. Allison's butterfly stroke was one of her best, and it showed as she pulled into the lead going into her first turn at the shallow end, performing an open turn with fingertips touching the wall as she sucked in her feet and then pushed off, going into her less-proficient backstroke. Chiara and Silvia pulled forward here, Kara leaving Allison as well. At the pool flags 5 meters away from the wall, Allison took five drawn-out strokes before turning over, flutter-kicking furiously and then diving down headfirst into a flip turn, pushing off with her feet into a streamlined position as she began performing the breaststroke, doing her best to glide efficiently by streamlining as she frog-kicked after pushing through the water with her arms as she popped up her head to take a breath.
At the shallow end, just as Chiara and Silvia had propelled themselves off the walls, Allison made another open turn and exploded off of the wall in a streamline while flutter-kicking furiously. As she broke to the surface, she took a breath and began paddling her arms in the freestyle stroke, taking a breath every six strokes, popping only half her face above the surface as she did so. She kept pulling herself through the water until she reached the end, where her hands came in contact with a touch-sensitive pad on the wall of the pool as Ryo sprang from the starting block above her, shooting into the surface of the now-roiling pool like a torpedo from an anti-submarine aircraft. Allison clambered out of the water, pulling herself from the pool with a steady grip on the pool gutter. As soon as she peeled her goggles off, Allison glanced at the lap timer board. Her 100-meter Individual Medley performance netted her an overall time of 1:21.45. Chiara and Silvia's times were much faster, at 1:15.00 and 1:16.00, respectively. Kara was also faster overall compared to Allison with a time of 1:19.57, about a second or so faster than what the younger McDonnell could accomplish.
About a minute later, each group was down to their 'anchor' as Triela, Marisa, Johanneke, and Becky dove into the water to finish off the relay. While Marisa was an adept swimmer, Johanneke combined both skill and athleticism as she left the other swimmers in her wake, getting into and out of the turns much faster than the other girls in the pool, and struck home on the timer pad seconds well ahead of her competitors. Marisa came in second, Triela third, and bringing up the rear was Becky. Despite Allison's less than stellar performance, Johanneke had picked up the slack extremely well, netting their group an overall time of 5 minutes flat, comparable to most Olympic teams performing the same task. Hence the low probability of any Section 2 cyborg competing on the Italian Olympic team—it would draw far too much suspicion.
Johanneke received high-fives from Allison, Annette, and Ryo while the others' groups graciously admitted to being bested, though Marisa noisily challenged the Afrikaner to a one-on-one rematch. As they dove into the water, Becky peeled off her latex swimming cap and looked at the lap time board (which resembled the Top Gear Power Lap board due to Allison's meddling) with some frustration.
"I can't seem to keep up with any of you people! I've tried every darned trick in the book, but I'm still slower than everyone else! What's holding me back?" huffed the cowgirl angrily.
The other girls quickly turned away with some embarrassment. The answer was right in front of them, barely held in by the material of the standard-issue Speedo racerback swimsuits they all used, but envy or sheer prudery prevented them from answering—that is, except for one of the girls.
"Well, I have a theory on that, honey," a blonde cyborg with a mischievious look in her eyes declared as she stepped up behind Becky and slipped her arms over the other girl's shoulders. "You see-" she ran a hand up the smooth expanse of the other girl's spandex-clad stomach "-you've got all this extra drag here."
Without warning the blonde cyborg grabbed a hold of Becky's left breast, prompting a squeal of surprise from its owner.
"Ack! Gina!"
Gina frowned as she grabbed a hold of Becky's other breast with her spare hand.
"Wow, so either the surgeons on the medical team are really good or these actually are real," she noted in surprise.
"Gina, stop that!" Becky protested, a furious blush rising to her cheeks. Gina smiled evilly.
"Stop what, Becky dear?" she enquired.
"Stop groping me –ack!" Becky squealed as Gina's hands began to toy with her chest.
"Mmm? What was that, honey? I didn't quite catch what you were saying."
"Gina, stop touching her!" Allison protested as she tried not to be embarrassed by what she was seeing. She was worried the boys in their locker room right across from the theirs might hear them, but that was evidently not a concern shared by Gina, since she responded by grinning even more than she already was.
"Oh? Are you feeling left out, Allison dear? Don't worry, I can spare some attention for you too. Just give me a little more time to finish up with Becky here, okay?"
Inside the locker room, the boys were already pressing their ears against the wooden door, their upcoming turn in the pool forgotten as they listened to the events that were unfolding outside. Only Jay seemed uncomfortable with the whole thing, doing his best to ignore what to the others were a very sexy turn of events.
"Guys, we really shouldn't be eavesdropping..." said Jay worriedly, his face already flushed pink from embarrassment.
"Shhh! There's more!" said Ike, pressing his ear further against the door. If he leaned harder, he would bring it down.
"G-Gina-Agh!... Plea-ooh!... please...stop it already..." whined Becky in protest, weakening against Gina's ministrations, which to her horror began to feel pleasurable.
"Gina, enough!" yelled Johanneke, trying to avert her eyes from the display in front of her. Her words fell on deaf ears, however, since once Gina had decided she found something fun it was very difficult to get her to stop doing it. Poor Becky might have had to endure her fellow cyborg's ministrations for quite some time had it not been for the sound of a loud thud from the boys' locker room.
"Matthew! Matt, are you all right?" asked Scott's voice. "Answer me, dammit!"
"It's no good, mate!" the girls heard Ike reply. "Poor bugger's passed out!"
"I told him he shouldn't have tried to peek!" complained Jay vocally. "But nobody ever listens to me—Oh, shit."
Now aware that they were being spied on, the girls' attention turned their attention to the boys' locker room, and Becky took the opportunity to make her escape from Gina. The blonde cyborg looked like she was going to make an attempt to recapture her, but the air around her erupted with shrieks of indignation and scandal before she could do so.
"Perverts!" shouted Ryo off the bat.
"Lechers!" followed Triela.
"Ewww, gross!" shrieked Marisa from the pool.
"Damnit," Gina pouted as her chance for some fun slipped away from her.
The girls continued to raise a cacophony until sharp whistle blasts from Ferro broke it all up.
"Both groups, to your lockers—NOW!"
After a stern talking-to by Ferro—which led to indefinite daily pool-cleaning duty for Gina and Matthew—Engineering and Shop Class passed by in awkward silence. Lunch passed in much the same fashion, and it was only in the free time afterwards that Allison could concentrate on something other than the tension that mounted after the whole incident at the pool. Instead, she was now free to concentrate on choking down her rising fear as she held a death grip on the steering wheel as she prepared to chase after the 18-wheel car carrier she would be using for boarding practice.
Allison and articulated lorries (also called Semi-trucks, tractor trailers, big rigs, etc.) never mixed well. In her former life as Shelby Mercer, Allison had always been nervous around these hulking workhorses of the road, and it had been one of these massive machines that was responsible for taking her family from her and nearly ending her own life. As cyborgs had a tendency to have a particular quirk carried over from their previous life, Allison was no different—she was magic behind the wheel of any respectable car, and could even make cheaper cars do the impossible. However, her fear of massive trucks also carried over to this life. The first time she drove on the Autostrada with Brian en route to a mission objective, she had been startled by an air horn coming from behind her, and as she looked to her left, she saw a MAN 18-wheeler looming in the next lane. Her most immediate reaction was to floor the gas pedal and get the hell out of there before reaching into the space between her seat and the center console for her Kimber. Brian quickly reacted, snatching the weapon out of her hand and forcing her to pull over to the side of the road. Immediately after following his orders, Allison exited the Lancia and vomited over the concrete barrier on the shoulder. The result of this incident was an immediate recommendation by Jean for Allison to be re-conditioned, but Brian firmly opposed that decision, adamant that any further conditioning would make Allison a far less effective asset. Since then, the two have worked together to lessen Allison's fear of the vehicles she would inevitably have to share the road with. Secretly, this was also part of the reason Allison liked taking back roads as opposed to the busier Autostradas—because she would be less likely to encounter a lorry while zipping around the mountain roads.
Now, however, she had to deal with what she feared most. It had to be done, if she would get any practice boarding a moving target. But as she approached the dirty car trailer that was in need of a wash, for a split second, the ramps on which cars would rest transformed into metallic teeth waiting to chew up Allison's Lancer with her still inside, a ravenous monster whose jaws opened and closed in robotic fashion, the dirt now turning into dried blood, and with every inch closer that Allison got to the trailer, the jaws of doom only worked faster and faster, as if to match Allison's quickening pulse. Just as she began to catch up with the trailer, Allison hesitated and shook her head. She then keyed the microphone on her headset.
"Guys, I'm sorry. Can you bring it around and we'll try again?"
"Copy, Allison. But you have to commit on this next pass, we're burning daylight." radioed Kyo as he motioned to Jennifer. The Australian nodded and brought the 18-wheeler into a wide u-turn. Allison instinctively steered well clear of the 18-wheeler headed her way. As it blew past her, Allison trailed it with her eyes for a split second before stomping on the gas pedal, rocketing forward, and then cranked the wheel left as she yanked the handbrake, making a rapid 180-degree u-turn, known in some circles as 'flipping a bitch.' As soon as the Lancer was facing the other way, Allison slid the gear lever into first and gunned the throttle, chirping the tires as she took off. The tachometer climbed, quickly reaching the redline, and she clutched in aggressively, shifting into second, and then third as she began to catch up with the trailer. Going into fourth, the nose of the Lancer hovered above the wheeled loading ramp, and with a further push of the accelerator, the front wheels grabbed the checkering of the ramps, and Allison was quickly on the truck, applying the handbrake and neutral gear. Kyo and Ryo leapt in to anchor the wheels, and after a few seconds' hold, Jennifer slowed down the truck as she circled around, and Allison was quickly untethered from the truck as she let the Lancer Evo roll off, bringing the vehicle to a rolling stop as she let the car coast in neutral.
They repeated the procedure twice more before night began to fall, and the real challenge would begin.
"Allison, you better push it, luv! I can already make out the print on the landing gears!"
"I know, I know! I'm trying to get through these last few corners!"
Another night drive session was in order, but this time, the McDonnell and Fitzgibbons teams were trying to rehearse the very stunt they would attempt in order to extract a Section One asset in the dead of night. At the moment, however, Allison's frustration boiled like an unattended teakettle as she continued to lose synchronity with the C-130 she was supposed to be driving into, as it began to descend closer to the field before she could even get there. As she reached the end of the rally stage and burst into the open field, the C-130 was already well ahead, and as the Evo desperately tried to catch up, the C-130 quickly ran out of room just as Allison's rally car began to close in, the ramp lifting off of the grass as it flew over the golf nets. Allison yanked the handbrake and brought the Lancer to a skidding stop, turfing up the grass as she did so. Allison got out of the driver's seat and stared at the retreating tail of the C-130 before turfing up the grass even more with her own foot in anger.
"Goddammit! I was so fucking close!"
"Allison, relax. You'll get it tomorrow, we still have some time to practice." said Brian, doing his best to console her.
"I was completely out of sync with the others, Brian! That's not a mistake I can afford to make!" cried Allison in frustration.
"That's why this is practice, lass. Better that you make the mistake here and correct it than deal with it during the mission. Look, I'm sure something will come to you. You're resourceful enough to come up with solutions to all your problems; you just need time."
"Yes, but how much?" wondered Allison, looking at the evening sky.
The solution to her problem finally came in the midst of Literature class the next day.
"COREOGRAPHY!" she blurted out, causing Hilshire to stop writing letters on the whiteboard.
"That's... correct, Allison." said Hilshire, writing out the word's letters on blanks drawn on the board under a picture of a gallows. "That's the answer to this week's 'vocabulary hangman,' well done."
As Hilshire turned to the board again to erase the diagram and start a new game, Kara leaned over to Allison.
"What was that all about?"
"I've realized how I would solve my problem with navigating the rally stage in my mission with the Fitzgibbons Fratello." replied Allison. "The key to maintaining sync is coreography! If I can time everything down to the second, I shouldn't have any problems speeding through the rally stage to the exfil point whereupon I can drive right into the Fitzgibbons' C-130 and bid goodbye to any Padania guys busy choking on my dust."
"How are you going to accomplish your 'coreography'?" asked Kara, bearing some doubts to the validity of Allison's strategy.
"I've got an idea..."
That afternoon, before heading to Q-branch to pick up the Lancer, Allison flipped through her CD collection until she found her The Matrix Reloaded: The Album disc. Upon doing so, she cross-referenced its availability with her Sansa Fuze MP3 player, and upon confirming its digital presence, she selected the track she wanted to play but placed the media player on 'hold' mode as she tucked it into her cargo vest pocket before leaving the room.
Later, Allison pulled up to the start of the practice course, Brian in the passenger's seat with the still-simplified pace notes. both of them had their helmets on and in-car intercoms online as Professor Cipriani manned the staging lights. with a nod from Allison, Cipriani pressed a button, and the lights ticked down from red to yellow, and Allison built up revs as she held the clutch in, shifting into first. Then, as soon as the light was green, she smoothly let out the clutch at around 3500rpm. All four wheels chirped, finding traction on the small patch of tarmac before the Lancer charged into the dirt path. Brian was already rattling off pace notes:
"Hard left into jump then easy right into dip then over crest to straight-"
However, Allison was only half-listening. The constant practice already burned the pace notes into her head. Instead, she was re-mapping the entire course in her memory, timing each turn, bump, dip, and jump to the synth beat of Juno Reactor's Mona Lisa Overdrive playing away in her left ear. At present, the role Allison was playing was less rally driver and more coreographer for a ballet, and the Lancer Evolution she controlled was Prima Ballerina learning when to glide, pirouette, and jump based on the commands of her young coach.
Halfway through the course, Allison could already see the mission scenario: The Section One flunky would be wisely hugging the floor in the back as bullets whiz by the car. Brian would be popping carbine or SMG rounds out the window at relentless pursuers driving vehicles ill-suited to the slippery terrain. The Fitzgibbons' C-130 would soon come in, providing a distracting surprise for the Padania that would simply allow Allison to better leave them choking on her dust.
By the time four minutes, twenty-five seconds had elapsed, Allison was already gunning the Lancer out of the rally stage like a bat out of hell into the EXFIL field, and she victoriously yanked the handbrake, putting the rally-tuned 4WD in a lurid, sliding stop.
"Well done, Allison. That sure felt faster than most of our previous runs." complimented Brian to a beaming Allison.
"What do you mean, 'felt'?" replied Allison. "That had to be faster than last time!"
"Still around 4:25, Allie. But I'm sure once you face the other racers there, you'll get a little extra boost in terms of determination."
"Bring 'em on." said Allison, opening the door and gazing at the setting sun. "Bring on the mission and bring on the competition, I'm so ready for this!"