-Transmission Begin-

"What an exciting turn of events!" shouted one of the presenters as he grasped onto his microphone. "As soon as the clock ran down to zero the air was filled with the sound of roaring engines! Things are really heating up, aren't they Lord Sugar?" Turning to face the business giant, the younger man began to sweat slightly.

He nodded. "If they've got what it takes to win, we'll see them arise from this mess."

"Right, right!" Straightening his suit and looking over at the cameras, the young German spokesman smiled. "For those who have only just joined us, I'm Adolph, your host for this exciting event. I'll be providing the majority of our coverage throughout the race. Sat besides me is one of the race organisers, Lord Sugar, who's come from the United Kingdom to join me here!" He beamed.

"No use watching it from home, now is there?" the man grumbled as he crossed his arms. "The view from this gyroblimp is much better."

Adolph clapped his hands together. "That it is! Our gyroblimp is a state of the art hovering platform, and will provide our presentation assistants the food and housing they need to cover such an epic race!" As he rattled on, Lord Sugar became more and more uncomfortable, feeling as if his co-host's eyes might pop from his unbridled excitement. "Better yet, as of the Aerospace Negligence Act of 2027, it is illegal for any outside force to intrude upon our airspace. Even if the race is illegal, trying to stop us from covering it is worse!"

"Politics are a bigger mess than these starting positions," said the aged businessman in a brittle tone.

Bringing up a small map in the corner of the screen, the wide-nosed slick haired main host grinned. "The biggest mess here is the New York Wasteland, Alan." Lord Sugar glared at the use of his first name. "As everyone is obviously aware, the wasteland is a nasty piece of work, and the perfect proving ground for our hopeful racers."

"Speaking of which, why don't we go back to covering the race proper?" the elderly man said with a fiendish grin. "I think I just saw one of them explode."

"Where the hell is the eighty seven?!" 2D manically spun his wheel to the right and barely slid past the burning remains of a former racer. "I know it's a wasteland but a fucking clear way forward would be nice!" Driving was tough as nails and there was basically no traction since the ground fell out from under you as you went along.

Pulling out a cigarette and biting onto the end, he went to light it but burned his face as something slammed into him. "Fuck!" he winced and jammed on the brakes as his transam spun out, eventually slamming into a packed mud wall of sheet metal and decay. "I swear to... wait, what is that?"

Peering through his mud-caked front windscreen 2D looked on in utter disbelief. The car that had slammed into him was lodged in a ditch, spinning around in the filthy crevice repeatedly. At the wheel was some poor ginger who looked like he was about to throw up. The car he was driving looked more like an arrow than anything else, with three seats and an elongated bonnet. "Different strokes for different folks," he mumbled.

Kicking his jammed door open and hopping out, 2D witnessed the car upend itself and slide down the slope opposite its ditch, before spinning counter-clockwise and resuming the race. "Are you kidding me?" he groaned with mild disbelief. Running over to the front of his car, he quickly began to remove the mud around his wheels. The process took about two minutes, and before he knew it, he'd wiped the windscreen clear and gotten his sorry ass back in the driver's seat.

"C'mon girl, let's get you back in the race." Moving up into second and barely letting out on the clutch, 2D inched his way out of the rut. "That'a girl, we're going to win this one, you hear me? As soon as it's open road those punks are history." Swinging his car around and grinning fiendishly as the engine let out a load roar, the slick leather-clad speedster got himself back in the race.

"This isn't as bad as I imagined it'd be," Ash said with a smile as his wildcat easily made its way across the wastes. "Too bad mostly everyone brought a sports car of some kind. Did they even read the briefing?" Turning sharply to avoid some rebar he'd barely noticed, Johnson bit his lip. "Come to think of it, did we even get a briefing?"

Flicking his radio through the numerous channels available to him, the young racer found a good one and stopped switching. "Yeah, yeah this isn't so bad. Pretty good start I'd say." Numerous bumps rattled his trucks' heavy frame, and the rain pouring down from above made it rather hard to see, but otherwise he was in a good spot.

Someone pulled up alongside him. "Hm?" he mouthed aloud as he turned to face the vehicle. What he saw confused him enough for his wheel to hit something and cause him to lose control slightly. "Whoa, easy, easy," he mumbled as he regained a straight profile. "What the hell is that guy thinking?"

Just ahead of him was a Yugo, one of those disgustfully 70s cars, with a guy wearing a hazmat suit driving it. Ash went up alongside the vehicle in an attempt to at least see the driver's face, but was utterly shocked as something threw him off course. Skidding, sliding, and tumbling around he grimaced and slammed the brakes. "What the heck?!"

From the Jeep a set of robotic arms had sprouted, one of which was showing him the middle finger. "Well that's a little... ugh." Slamming the horn of his four-b-four and pulling out of the mud he'd been slammed into, Johnson grabbed his M911 and opened the side window. "You asked for it!" he yelled.

He was promptly shoved aside, yet again.

"First gate is at Albany, right?" Kelly said simply as he kept his eyes on the road mud, his eyes on the mud.  

The young woman in his passenger seat looked over the map in her hands. "Yep, if we head straight up the ninety from here, we should make it through the gate before anyone else does." As they hit a particularly rough bump, her hair was knocked out of place slightly, and she started to re-arrange it with questionable success.

"That was a good idea," he said with a smile as they cruised up the beaten track. "You were right; everyone tried going straight through the clusterfuck rather than around it entirely." Shrugging and swerving around a sharp turn, his eyes looked dead on ahead. "Still nasty 'round here, though."

Bailey merely placed her hands together and leaned back into her seat. "I was asking around before the race at the meet. Everyone seemed to agree that was the best course of action." Turning to look out her window, Kelly's childhood sweetheart smiled. "Besides, you could drive to Vermont and back again, and have enough time to sit down and serve drinks."

"Nah, unless I'm serving soft drinks I wouldn't bother." Rolling his shoulders and moving up a gear briefly, he tapped the steering wheel constantly with his ring finger. "I need to see where I'm going before I even consider having a drink."

"Am I allowed to have a drink?" she asked innocently.

The saintly man blew some air from between his teeth and laughed slightly. "Sure," he said. "Just so long as you can still read the maps, and you're having a good time."

Between twisted streets and decayed, crumbling buildings, a pair of cars raced on towards the finish line. One, a jet black Bugatti Veyron with an engine like thunder. The other, a fire red Ferrari F12 with traction like lightning. Two blurs raced down the desolate street as the rain showered down from above, the only sound above the shattering droplets being their mighty engines screaming into the night.

It was neck and neck in the packed street, with debris and forlorn vehicles blocking the way more often than not. The pair had already been forced to drift around difficulties numerous times, trading paint and getting a good look at one-another during each confrontation. Now their high octane duel was being interrupted by a small group of police cars in hot pursuit.

"You're fucking kidding me," Classy said to himself as he rammed his engine into high gear. "I don't need you lot on my tail, I'm going to beat this guy into the ground." He whipped his pistol out and craned his neck out the window, letting out a few shots. "FUCK OFF."

Dominatus had a hearty chuckle as he swerved around a large chunk of debris. "These guys want to chase me? Fine, let's see if they can keep up..." Feeling around under his dashboard for the all-important button he'd had installed, he grinned and slammed it down. "Liquid uranium makes for great fuel, you know," he said to no-one in particular.

His engine practically exploded as the new fuel began to sear through its metaphorical veins, a screaming trail of green flame leaping from his exhausts as the jet-black thunderbolt threw itself forward. Unfortunately this meant he had no time to turn, and numerous pieces of debris were thrown into the air as his car shot down the street.

"What th— OH YEAH?" Classy threw his gun to the side and flipped open a cover inside his car, revealing an extended gearbox. "I didn't think I'd have to push my car so soon, but you asked for it!" Slamming the gear-stick up into fourteenth gear and gritting his teeth, he began to shake in place as his vehicle shot ahead with the speed of sound.

Left in a trail of dust and bitter rivalry, the police cars still advanced steadily forwards. More and more began to file in from around the area as the duo and their ensemble drove onto what remained of superstate highway fifteen. All this action had caught the attention of the presenters, who were quick to snap up the bait.

"What an exciting turn of events! Adolph screamed into his microphone as he struggled to contain his excitement. "Two racers have engaged in a head-to-head test of speed down the ruins of the former fifteenth superhighway!"

"Now this is the kind of stuff I organized this race to see," Lord Sugar said with an approving nod. "We're going to be seeing a lot of... wait, are they in a police chase?"

The slick and well dressed German spokesman let out a loud whistle. "My God! They're being chased by at least twenty police cars right this moment! If it weren't for the sound of those engines, we'd be able to hear the sirens loud as day." The camera zoomed in for an overhead shot of the two cars, side by side, screaming down the highway. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is truly a harbinger for things to come!"

"Truly. But one thing I'm concerned about is the other car that seems to be driving straight into a building." Lord Sugar pointed to the map. "Just there. It appears to be..."

2D slammed on the breaks and spun his steering wheel around, drifting past an outcropping of concrete and slamming down on the accelerate. His tyres screeched across the old road and gave him the traction he needed to slide straight into the carpark's opening. "Don't let me down now, girl. It's showtime!"

With a gentle twist of the wheel he began to turn into the rotunda, speedinig around the upwards slope and coming out with a small amount of air, reaching the highest point of the parking lot. Scanning the area he found what he was looking for; a ramp leading to the top. Shifting up into his highest gear and driving forward, he slammed a small golden sphere into a boiler besides him. "I'm no chemist, but I hope this shit wo—"

With a loud bellowing clap of thunder his engine exploded into life, the car shooting forwards faster than he could handle. Without even thinking he slammed his foot onto the accelerator and grit his teeth. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"

"Is that a... I don't believe it! Ladies and gentlemen one of the racers has attempted to, no, no he's literally jumped several stories to reach the highway!" Both presenters looked on in awe as the yellow transam slammed into a police car, gaining traction on its roof and tearing it open, before madly zigzagging down the road.

Classy and Dominatus couldn't even hear what was going on, their engines practically deafening them as the rain continued to fall in droves. "This certainly is an exciting turn of events," Alan said with a devious smile. "How were the bids placed before the race?"

"Many people have placed their bets on Kelly and his childhood lover Bailey, whilst others have voted for Kokyuna Classy, Felix 'Red' Radcliff, and Dominatus." He rubbed his hands together. "It'll be interesting to see how the betting goes throughout the race!"

Sirens blaring and engines roaring, 2D shot his way down the highway with a large trail of exhaust fumes behind him. The entire vehicle was shaking as he barely reached the other two racers, pulling up alongside them just as the highway ended. A loud siren blared across the area as they flew off the end of the road, slamming onto the one below them and skidding out.

"Aaaand that's it for the New York Wasteland! With all our racers now at Albany, the real race can begin!" Adolph turned to face the camera and smiled. "For those unlucky racers who didn't make it across the line in time, a heartfelt apology goes out from me to you." As soon as he'd finished his line, he then turned back to the race listing. "Of all 500 racers, only 478 made it to Albany in time!"

Lord Sugar crossed his arms and looked over the list. "They'll be getting a half hour break and then the race will continue. Good time for everyone watching at home to place their bets and send in texts of encouragement!"

"Yes yes! Texting in costs one dollar forty and prices may vary per mobile network! We'll be having a word from our sponsors now, but feel free to tune into ALLOUT 2 and see some un-commentated footage of our racers during their half hour break!"

"HI, BILLY MAYS HERE WITH ALLOUT PETROLEUM. DO YOU..."

-Transmission End-