Racing in the Wastes
Note: Image associated is from Ironage.media, specifically their prompt, 'The Pursuit'.
Come one, come all!
Witness, or partake in, the greatest engineering spectacle this side of the Atlantic:
The Mighty Mechanical Marathon!
A 5000-mile journey across Eurasia, passing through the freezing Alps, the former Baltics, Russia's Taigas, and the inhospitable Gobi!
See man and machine form a single being and fight for survival in the name of fame, fortune, and glory!
Each team of three will navigate the near-barren wastelands of the old world in a desperate race against time, the elements, desperate denizens, and each other. For there is but one prize to claim, for one courageous legend, the keys to the Capital herself.
Legend awaits those who dare, and unimaginable luxuries will be showered upon the winner.
Will it be you whose name lives on forever?
Jack heard the Crier's words roll through his mind again as the erratic missiles streaked through the air above him, sand turning to glass where each impacted. He was glad his helmet had held up through this trek of insanity, even as his stomach churned at what he'd done to his friends mere hours ago. They'd each promised the other two that they'd discuss who'd win when they were 100 miles from the finish.
But as the days passed in their steel-framed 8-cylinder, he chose to ensure his own victory. They'd plotted their course as evening fell, the last 300 miles through the desert. A day's drive, maybe less if they kept ahead of the pack. And so, as his companions slept, he checked through their vehicle. Her engine was holding up well, even in the ever-present sand. The brakes, hardly touched, were functioning correctly, and the hydraulic lines were clean and responsive. Their gas tank still had enough fuel for 500 miles if they kept her running at, or near, top speed. He realized he didn't need them any longer. The path was plotted, their chariot ready. He could have left there and then risked driving without sleep. Leaving them behind seemed too cruel, though.
He hadn't slept well after. And his enemies were now hot on his tail, barely evading their weapons. He may have needed his gunner after all.
Betrayal and regret, nice.