Manager:
*chewing on a cigarillo that literally smells just as disgusting as it -looks-, staring out over a small assemblage of lean, ‘hungry-looking’ bots in front of him* A’aight you blokes, you that’re still here -obviously- survived the first part’a the initiation back there. ‘Grats on that. *eyes them, exhaling a thick stream of grey smoke from his nostrils* Hate to break it to you, though, but a coupl’a you got problems. Your gunners -didn’t- survive. Capri, Sagett…you two’re gone.
Soc:
…*closes his eyes, his skin prickling as two blaster bolts whine out on either side of him, the bot -right- next to him dropping with a hole between his eyes, and another bot a few over doing the same a mere second later* *…gods…please…*
Manager:
*takes another drag on his smokes, then rests his elbow on one of the vehicles lined up behind him; the only one out of the five that looks like something out of a nightmare* Alright, the other eight of you, your gunners passed. You’re goin’ on to the next round. *jerks a thumb at the trucks behind him* See these? You boys gotta outrun ’em. Sixty miles ‘cross flat land.
Soc:
*eying the smirk that comes across the smoking bot’s face as the bots around him relax* *…they shouldn’t relax. He’s gonna try t’kill us again. -Look-, guys…*
Manager:
*yeeep, he’s smirking alright* Alright alright, so sounds like it’s gonna be easy, yeah? You’re Chaser candidates after all… *musing* Might be…might be. For at least four’a these trucks. But you see this’un? *tilts his head at the one he’s leaning on* We call this’un the Reaper. Y’know why? *leans forward a bit* ‘Cause this is the one you’re gonna be fighting for your life against. Its top speed is 220, and the spikes on the grill ‘n the hubcaps ain’t just for show, kids. *eyes them in the silence that generated* … *easily* Granted, y’all are gonna be moving over scrub, so this thing’ll be moving a little slower…but still. *calmly* Even over scrub, the Reaper runs about 200.
Soc:
*feels his Core sink* *Even goin’ so fast it -hurts- I can’t get over 190, and I’m pretty much the fastest one -here-…gods…-please- help…*
Manager:
*steps out of the way* It’s sixty miles from here to the home compound..you get through the gate and you’re home free. *the trucks start behind him* …you kids best get a move on if you wanna live.
Soc:
*turns around, shoving through the taller bots behind him, eying the couple who got the same idea he did*
Manager:
*reeeal quiet* …go.
Soc:
*takes off like a bat out of hell, already running for his life as the trucks behind them take off as well…and one bot is already down, Soc’s ears are echoing with his screams as he pushes his body to break his own physical limits to outrun the rolling death already trying to gain on him*

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