#bardtothebone

"I have an idea," Sunny says, breaking the silence. Angel stares at her, then stands up and strides out of the room.

"That's it, we're doomed," she proclaims loudly before ducking around the corner, out of sight.

Servo sighs and puts down the gadget she's been tinkering with. Sunny grabs her by the shoulder, preventing Servo from getting up and following Angel. Servo'd break free without much effort, but Sunny's expression is one of desperation.

Despite what Angel may think, Sunny honestly cares for this team. Servo relaxes back into her comfortable chair, and sunny gives her a grin and a thankful squeeze of her shoulder before rubbing her hands together.

"So?" Song asks. "What's this genius solution of yours?" Her dry tone gently mocks Sunny's enthusiasm.

Sunny's bright smile warps into an evil grin. "Consider it mayhem on a budget."

~~~

The site for the semifinals race is the rather dramatically-named Desert of Death. It is, perhaps, appropriate considering that it has the highest mortality rate of any of the other tracks. Vidscreens are set up both in the starting arena (for the commoners) and on the observation craft (for the tournament staff, extra team members, and special guests).

Showing off yet again, the four racers from Team Venom roar out into the arena in vehicles with enormous tires reaching above the roofs of each one. Once they get into position and have been officially introduced by the announcers, they hop out of the main bodies and climb on top of a wheel, chest-thumping and making rude gestures in black and neon green jumpsuits matching their racers. At the insane cheer of the crowd, each racer deploys wicked-looking spikes from the hubs of their tires, setting off another roar.

Team Predator sends out four oddly-shaped vehicles. The only commonality between all four of them is the paint color - dark brown with randomly placed lighter patches, obviously designed to blend into clouds of sand. One appears to roll its entire frame to move, one seems to have claws to pull itself forward, but the other two move themselves into position without any visible means of propulsion.

Team Valor rides into the arena on armored hovercycles attached to chassis with physical wheels, also large and designed to better grip the sand. Unlike Venom, however, the Valorites are posed on their cycles, wearing ornately patterned jumpsuits of silver, copper, and gold, and their rides are streamlined and elegant. This time, the romantic humans go nuts, and some dutiful fans throw flowers and colorful scraps of cloth.

In a sneering tone, the announcer calls for Team Knight. Immediately, a good portion of the crowd and other racers begin to boo and catcall, and more join in when a battered freight truck lumbers into the arena, Servo at the wheel. The truck grumbles and rumbles and gets in the back of the formation. Outright guffaws echo off the back walls, but Servo does not look away from the starting line.

"RACERS! GET READY!" boom the speakers, and the crowd goes back to cheering as, with a few parting waves to their fans, the other racers get into their vehicles and rev their engines. The countdoen clock flashes on the massive vidscreens, and the audience counts down with it.

"THREE! TWO! ONE!"

A siren blares.

Thirteen engines finally cut loose and blast over the line, jockeying for the front position. A video drone maintains a decent altitude to stay out of the sand being blasted around, and tries to get a good angle to see the details of what's happening in the cloud. Several more are dispatched to aid it.

~~~

Sand rips the coatings off of the vehicles and gets into every available crevice. Song can't see much, but her map blinks the locations of the other racers when the signal gets through, and so she can tell that she's right on the tail of the pack, where two Valorites are hanging back to try to avoid the worst - they are underprepared for this portion

Their illustrious Captain is attempting to weave through the Venom cluster, his second-in-command darting around to keep Venom enough off-guard to not be able to kill either of them.

One-fifth mark of the sand.

A Predator rips through the wall of orange-yellow, whirling sand. Servo sees it in time to jerk the truck out of the way, but the two Valorites aren't so lucky. One slams the brakes, brushing its back against the truck and subsequently careening out of control, while the other foolishly turns toward the threat and its front crushed, rapidly sliding out of sight before Servo can get a good look. Servo assumes that pilot is either maimed or dead. Apparently not interested in finishing her off, the Predator continues its roll out of sight, and its tracker infrequently blips from further and further away. She takes a deep breath, readjusts her course, and increases speed.

Two-fifths mark of the sand,

One Venomite signal veers off from the others and races into a blind spot. Moments later, it chases a Predator into another section of the track. The Predator's signal ceases. Servo can't imagine how much the audience can see, or what they can make of what's happening.

Another Predator signal pops up, and the lone Venomite from before cuts across the width of the track toward it. A second Predator signal comes out of nowhere at an angle and slams into the Venomite signal, which flutters and dies. Apparently outraged, one of the three remaining Venomites rockets at the pair of Predators, which immediately scatter back into the harshest crosswinds of the track. One is not fast enough to completely escape, however, and the Venomite is able to damage it enough for it to drop behind Servo and maintain a much lower speed.

Three-fifths mark of the sand.

Technically, she's supposed to wait longer, but calm planning cannot compensate for the insanity and chaos of actually being on the track. The three Venomites are still having trouble with the two remaining Valorites, despite the emotional cocktail that the latter pair must be feeling right now. Two Predators are hiding somewhere, waiting for a chance to strike. All she needs is an opening, so she guns the throttle and closes the gap, slowly, between herself and the leading five. Capricious as ever, the Predators do not attack her; they may even be waiting to see what she can do, if anything. Servo gets close enough to the leaders to see blurred shapes sliding back and forth. The 2iC Valorite's symbol whips close by one of the Venomites and then Servo has to dodge yet another vehicle out of the race as the field narrows down to to apiece for the "real" competitors. The front four spread out, no longer willing to risk any more damage before the next section.

Four-fifths mark of the sand.

Here we go, thinks Servo, and activates the booster tanks.

The massive burst of acceleration of the truck blasting ahead pins her to her seat like an insect to a collector's board. The two racers right in front of her almost crash into the others as they dive to get out of the way.

"Pod one ready," Angel snaps.

"Pod two ready," Song states.

"Pod three READY!" Sunny yells.

"Pod four is ready. Go after burst," Servo commands, pries herself out of her seat enough to hit the big blue button on the dash, and she is abruptly free of the intense gravitational forces. A few seconds later, as the first boost starts to fade and the other racers creep forward, the second, smaller boosters go off. She stays firmly in the lead. A blinking green light comes up on the console and, with the small smirk she permits herself, she taps it,

The top of the trailer booms as it splits down the middle, then roars as the sides fall outward to form two exit ramps for the three custom-made Curse-model racing crafts which come blazing off the bed and out in front of the truck. Before any of the other racers have a chance to process what's happening, Servo releases the ramps and then disconnects the trailer from the rest of the truck.

The sandstorm breaks and bright, clear air hits Servo's face as her makeshift obstacles send the following racers into chaos. Whoops. The bridge over the yawning chasm sparkles ahead with the final leg of the track beyond it, but that's secondary to the fact that the Predators have smelled an opportunity and are headed for the lightly-armored Curses. The pack of Curses dodge one while Servo deliberately slams the truck into the other, tripping numerous alarm systems on her console. She mentally swears, but at least one Predator is out of commission and she doesn't want to let the other four catch up to her, so she deactivates the last remnant of the truck, blasting its warped shell off of her very own Curse so that she can gun her way to the other three.

Despite the remaining Predator diving back and forth in their midst, the Curses seem to be doing a leisurely drive, swinging from one position to another and incidentally dodging their new friend. As such, the bridge is a nice, short reprieve with a fantastic view of the most challenging part of the track's setting.

Not bothering to wait after breaching the sand's edge, the Valorites shed their temporary wheels and hover, while the Venomites retract their wheel spikes and somehow deflate the wheels to a smaller size. Just before the mouth of the Labyrinth, the Predator backs off from the leading four, which immediately bring their noses up to a straight line.

The moment doesn't last, however, as each Curse splits off and goes whizzing into a separate track entrance of the Labyrinth. If you had to ask any of the Knights what their section is like, they could only give you fleeting impressions.

Engage magnetic grip.

Sharp left.

A stretch like a twisted ribbon.

Shooting nearly vertically up a straight part.

Glancing at the sun.

Yelling directions at teammates.

Sharp right.

Minor hills and turns.

Stopping chatter because, suddenly, they're in sync.

Catching glimpses of other, just as insane paths as they all come together.

Pushing the engine and inertial dampeners to their limits.

Up. Down. Left. Left.

Accelerate, wait, accelerate again.

Four Curses shooting off ramps to, for a brief instant, stack in midair.

Landing.

More loops.

Out of nowhere, the tracks straighten out and join together for the final width. There's a sign and a lot of noise and everyone's hearts are beating in their ears so it's all underwater but then they slam their brakes somehow slide into a formation as if they had planned it and practiced a thousand times. There are other racers. They don't matter. The crowd is rioting in joy over the deviousness of the underdogs.

Because every Knight is standing on the roof of her racer, screaming her lungs out and dancing in joy.

[Time to write original by hand: 90 minutes]