Horsepower #5

“I mean… let’s not take chances,” you say. “The repair modules aren’t as fast as a good grease monkey?”

“Yeah, the repair module can’t target anything, and they can be pretty slow.”

“Okay. Then let’s get two of those, and a booster on top of that. Our car’s gonna have a pretty nasty time staying together, and being in a cruiser is all about endurance, right?”

She takes a couple of notes down. “Alright, that makes sense. We’ll be able to stay in the race no matter what, and that’s probably going to be more important than finishing first for quite a bit.”

“Now let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” you say, giving her a grin. “I’m still in it to win it. This just means that when the car catches on fire it won’t stop me for long.”

“You could say IF, not when,” she grumbles.

You only smile all the wider.

She sighs and takes down a few more notes. “Alright. Weapons?”

“Catapult and Ram Plate. Good to have some options, and boarding requires a specialized set-up we’re not gonna have.”

“Right, so no boarders?”

“Nah, let’s go with a gunner/security combo and a grease monkey.”

She lets loose a low whistle. “Not going to let anything damage the car.”

“Well, I figure you worked so hard on this car, it only makes sense that I take good care of it.”

She flushes lightly. “O-oh. Well thanks, Comet.”

((Build Unique Perk: Speed Defense. As long as your car is still running, damage to the body and frame won’t reduce top speed.))

The next two weeks are weird. It feels like the days creep by, but at the same time you’re as busy as you’ve ever been. In spite of your coat color difficulties, the guys at the gym remain pretty cool about everything and help you push yourself as you get into the absolute best shape you’ve ever been in. The day before you leave, they all gather round and give you a massive hug. It’s awfully sweet and a little sweaty, but they wish you the best.

Lug Nut has been in a flurry of activity for the entirety of the two weeks, spending all day, every day in the garage welding: she even installed a lock to make sure that you couldn’t see her masterwork before it was done. But, six days before the competition she emerged, smiled at you, and collapsed. Then tripped you in her sleep when you tried to look at the car.

The plus side was that all of this meant that you weren’t expected to do much packing or planning for the trip to the Haymaker itself, leaving you free to channel that nervous energy into the rest of your preparation. But finally, the day came. This month’s Haymaker was being held near Los Pegasus, leaving you with quite a drive ahead of you. There’s not a doubt in your mind that every second Lug Nut spent perfecting her design was worth it, but her endless refinements did mean that you were running a bit behind.

Road trips are a common enough occurrence for the two of you that you’ve started to like them. The two of you always load up snacks and music to keep you entertained for the whole time, and you’ve always enjoyed driving, even when it’s not at a terrifyingly fast speed. Luckily for you though, the limited time you had to make it there, gave you an excuse to rocket down roads fast enough for even the most generous interpretation of a speed-limit to get nervous.

Still, you manage to make it there without incident, and you’d be lying if you said both of you didn’t get a bit starry-eyed upon arrival. On the outskirts of town and near the woods, a huge camp has sprung up overnight. Workers of all sorts mill to and fro, dashing in and out of brightly colored tents plastered with advertising. On the entryway to all of this is a big banner with the symbol of the Haymaker: a giant bale of hay breaking through an invisible glass pane.

The Haymaker Circuit has always been about spectacle, and it works. You’re caught by surprise when a pony taps on the window to your racing truck, and jump back as it shakes you out of your reverie. When you do look, you see a pegasus flapping just outside with a no nonsense look on his face, looking like he very much disbelieves that you belong here. It’s enough to make you slightly offended.

“Name and registration?” He asks, pulling out a clipboard.

“I’m Comet Streak, and this is Lug Nut. What are we registered under?”

“Oh, Comet Racing,” she says. “You’re the face of things and we needed something, so I just went with that.”

“Aw, thanks!” You say, pulling her in for a quick hug.

“Eh-hem,” coughs the stallion, hovering outside of your window.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, looking back at him. “Comet Streak and Lug Nut of Comet Racing.”

He flips through his notebook and finds the heading. “Tent 7, down on your right,” he says, pointing in the direction you were supposed to go. “Leave your tent unzipped only if you want visitors, don’t go into any tent that’s zipped up for privacy, Good luck.” He flies back to a chair on the side of the road and waves you through.

Your excitement is hard to put a damper on and you start to look at the signs, seeing the names of some of your favorite race teams.

“Catberg?” You say as you glance over. “Lazy Boys? Holy shit, Lug Nut!” You say, pointing emphatically. “Is that the KINGS of SPEED? They’re fucking legends and their tent is unzipped, I could just…”

She pokes the side of your head. “You can just save that kind of thinking for later,” she says sternly. “You have six interviews to do before the race begins.” She points out your tent and you carefully pull the truck into it before turning it off and setting down the trailer. Right now, it’s strikingly empty, mostly a well-lit, empty canvas room. Probably designed for the bigger teams to have a place for all their charts and people to sit.

You whine. “I can’t just go talk to the KINGS OF SPEE-”

“Nope,” she says, hopping out of the car.

“Like, just fifteen minutes?”

“No,” she says, and you swear she’s smiling about it. With a groan, you follow after her. A few Haymaker techs are milling around and she gives them basic instructions on how to handle the car, assuming that they know the more advance stuff.

Before you can scamper off to talk to the gods of racing, she grabs you and starts to pull you along. “I arranged to have the potential recruits meet us at a nearby cafe and had them each take a couple of assessments. Let’s go over the gunners to begin with. We have a unicorn named Winter Hit who got and 85/100 on gunning and a 60/100 on security. From a pure numbers perspective, he’s the best option, but he can be a bit stand-offish, as far as I can tell.”

“Bit of a jerk, good at shooting, got it.”

“Second is Upstart, a very young pegasus. He’s… not great. Very dedicated, very hardworking, but he got a 40/100 on gunning and 50/100 on security. Terrible scores, but I think he’s got potential… If I’m being honest, I mostly included him because he seemed so chipper about it.”

“Huh. Well, personality is important, too. Team synergy and all that. Plus we can train them.”

She nods. “Right, but you have to remember that we’re at the absolute top of the mountain here,” she says. “I’d rank you at 85/100 driving skill, from an objective basis. You have potential to be one of the best, but you’re going to have to refine that. We can’t afford even a little bit of slack if we want to win.”

You grumble, but she has a point that you can’t deny. “Yeah… I guess this is a pretty big leap from what we’ve been doing. Something to think about. Who’s next?”

“Third is Dusk Runner, a bat pony mare. Her cutie mark is in martial arts, and she’s a security racer who has a bit of experience in gunning. She had a security score of 90/100, but got 50/100 on gunning.”

“Huh. Bat pony security racer? I thought most bat ponies were gunners on account of the eyes and all.”

“Comet! That’s racist.”

“Whaaaaat? It’s true.”

Lug huffs, changing the subject abruptly. “Let’s start with the gunners and security ponies. The grease monkeys will be meeting with us a bit later.”

You head into a cafe that was probably set up for the event, sort of a prefab building with basic walls. The inside is well-decorated though: a sort of homey feeling with lots of warm tones and a friendly-looking wait-staff. Given just how much you can pull in as a Haymaker business, they’re probably earning loads of money, even if they have to be working their flanks off.

She directs you over towards one corner, where two ponies are already waiting. One of them is a younger pegasus with a light green coat and a purple mane. He’s practically buzzing, barely able to keep still as he looks around at all the other creatures milling about. Then he sees you and his grin doubles in size, jumping off and fluttering over to you.

The second pony is a bat mare, grey coat and pink mane. She seems blissfully out of it, but as the chair that the pegasus-- Upstart, you presume --jumps out of starts to topple over, she casually brings a hind hoof up to kick it, getting it up into its proper position once more without so much as looking. Eerie.

You don’t have much more time to look at it before Upstart is in your face, having grabbed your claw and started to shake it vigorously.

“Hi!” He says. “My name is Upstart, I’m so glad you considered me for joining Comet Racing! I saw your race in Trottingham and you’re easily one of the best racers out there!”

“Oh… thanks!” You say. You have a fan? That’s weird. You’ve really only been in C-List races so far, jumping past the usual mid-tier races that most racers use to generate a fanbase. Still, not an unpleasant surprise.

Lug Nut coughs to get your attention. “Let’s take a seat and conduct the interviews a bit more formally,” she suggests, and leads the two of you over to a booth so that you can sit down.

Upstart swoops down into the booth across from the two of you and sits up, beaming at the two of you and practically bouncing back and forth. You can just feel the enthusiasm coming off of him like a wave.

“Uhhhhhhh,” you say, trying to think of a question that won’t make the kid explode. “So, why do you want to be a racer?”

“So I can be like you!” He says with a weaponizable level of cheer. “Well maybe not you specifically, I’m a fan of a lot of racers but you’re definitely up there because you of all the cool dangerous stuff you do!”

By the time he’s done answering, you’re crouched down so that only your eyes and above are visible over the table. As you realize he’s done, you slowly creep back out. His excitement is a physical force unto itself.

“Um, of course,” you say, collecting yourself and clasping your claws in front of you. “Well, I’ll be frank. Your scores aren’t very good. Why should we bother with you?”

Lug Nut winces at your harsh wording, and Upstart seems visibly deflated. For about a second before he pops back up.

“Because I can get better!” He said. “I’ll practice and practice forever! No matter what it takes!”

“I believe you,” Lug Nut says with a small smile. You’ve known her long enough, though, that you could tell a teasing bit of uncertainty on her face.

“Alright, one last question,” you say, thinking as you scratch at the side of your beak. What kind of questions do interviewers usually ask? “If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?”

He looks at you quizzically. “Um, I guess I don’t know a lot about trees. One with a lot of branches? So kids could play in it!”

“Mhm,” you say. “Well, we’ll have a decision in just a few moments, so if you’ll please head back to the table and send Dusk Runner in. Er, over.”

He nods eagerly and grabs your claw with his hoof before you can react and cranks it enthusiastically. “Thank you! And thank you just so much for the opportunity. If you pick me, you won’t regret it!”

You pull your claw back with no small amount of force after this goes on for about half a minute. “I’m sure,” you say. “We’ll let you know.”

He balks as he realizes that you sent him off and nods zooming over to the table and chattering at Dusk for a moment before the bat mare looks over at you blearily and walks over to you, looking concerningly off-balance. In spite of this, she makes it over to you just fine and slide into the booth across from you and gives you a glassy-eyed smile.

“Hello, Dusk Runner,” you say, and outstretch you claw to shake her hoof. She regards it carefully. “Okay,” you say, withdrawing it after a second. “Why do you want to be a racer?”

She looks very serious for a moment, thinking intently before nodding. “Because I want to fuck some shit up.”

“Hell yeah!” You say before you can help yourself. “I mean very good. And you can?”

She nods. “Yeah. I definitely can.”

There’s a brief, awkward silence. “Oh. Okay. If you could be any kind of tree, what kind would you be?”

She looks seriously thoughtful for a second. “Red maple,” she finally says. “For resilience and versatility in use.”

Wow. She definitely knows more about trees than you do. “Alright, we’ll keep you in mind.” You look around. “But I guess our third candidate isn’t here.. Sooooo…”

Right on cue, the doors to the diner swing open with a loud clatter and a pony comes walking in. A definite swagger to his step, he maintains a look of perfect bedroom eyes with the perfect messy mane as he saunters right up to you and rests his forelegs on the table in a mixture of playfulness and seductiveness.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says. “Just had to make sure the time was right.” He gives you a wink and lets his rear sway back and forth just a bit.

“Were you waiting outside to make sure you came in just as we were finishing?” Lug Nut asks, look at him suspiciously.

He dramatically waves a hoof. “Don’t worry yourself with such trifles.” He says, before sliding into the booth and sitting next to Dusk. She looks over at the newcomer and shrugs, picking up a ketchup bottle and starts to read the back of it.

“Okay,” you say with a shrug. “Why do you want to be a racer, Mr...?”

“Winter Hit. And because I’m the best,” he said. “And everyone needs to know it.” Strangely enough, you get a brief glimpse of something behind his… dramatic exterior. Maybe something he’s not quite up for delving into just yet?

 Still, that was the answer he gave. “Okay. What do you bring to the team?”

“Gunning skills, combat ability, and ice magic,” he says. “And, most of all, beauty and DRAMA!” He strikes a pose.

“Woah, ice magic? Could you, like, freeze the ground in front of us to reduce friction?” You ask, eyes lighting up as you consider the possibilities.

“What? That’s a terrible idea, Comet,” Lug Nut says. “You’d lose your ability to speed at like the fastest speed anypony has ever gone.”

“Yeah, but you’d be going SO fast,” you say, and turn back to Winter Hit. “Could you do it?”

He smiles and laughs, then balks for a second. “Ah, no,” he says. “But! I can freeze our opponents with impunity! And my experience with combat magic makes me skilled at gunning!”

You scowl. You guess that much magic power would be difficult to muster up, but maybe you could find a way to make that tactic work with a bit of effort and some resources behind it.

“Okay, one last question,” you say. “If you could be any kind of tree, what kind would you be?”

“The beautiful kind,” he says, and shoots you a smile that even you have to admit is dazzling.

You nod. “Okay… Wait here, please.” You and Lug Nut slip out of the booth to go stand in the corner, whispering to each other and looking over at the three candidates occasionally. Upstart notices and waves at you cheerily. “What are you thinking Lug Nut?”

She thinks about it. “I can see value to each of them. I don’t know, I would be pretty numerical about this, but you actually have to drive with them. I already narrowed it down this much, it’s up to you to make the final call.”

Which pony would you like to work with?