Radical_Dreamer

Maya was a little taken aback by the sudden change in her mother's mood and even more so by the fact that she was pulling her and her sister toward the door. Leave it to something like shopping to have this kind of effect. She flashed a quick look of confusion toward her sister who answered the look with a shrug that seemed to say 'just go with it'. "Um. Sure mom."

Their mother was right about the need to go shopping though. They had all of the stuff for their own rooms but the rest of the penthouse would be bear. There was no couch for the living room, not to mention the lack of a big screen television for such a grand room. The kitchen was pretty much bare of things like dishes and silverwear and the walls were devoid of everything but the paint. They also needed extra linens and countless other little things to make their new home feel just right.

Within minutes the three of them were back down on the ground floor and inside of their mother's car, leaving their own vehicles behind for the time being. Tabbitha was driving, as would be expected since it was her car, with Maya in the front seat next to her. Dee had taken to the back seat as she prefered to keep up the show of defiance by not sitting next to her mother.

In no time at all they had driven their way through central Founders Falls to the biggest commerce section of this part of the city. "So what do you want to go shopping for first? Furniture? Kitchen ware? Electronics?" Tabbitha added the last suggestion with a smile that remained hidden from Dee as she kept her eyes to the road. She knew of her eldest daughter's love of all things technological since the day she took appart most of her toys just to see how they worked.

At her mother's comment about possibly wasting four years partying Maya had to force back a comment about how their mother had made a pretty good career of it. Her greatest source of income in recent years was divorse settlements. As a socialite Tabbitha didn't work a real job. It was all about parties, talking with people, attending charity benefits and the like. Some of it was for good causes but it was hardly what you would consider work.

Besides, if she knew anything about Dee she would know that the comment was not needed. Maya's sister was a genius in all things except social settings. Of course that was more by choice then lack of ability. Dee had been modifying their vehicles for years now, not to mention designing a few other devices that would raise more then a few eyebrows in the academic community if they knew she were responcible.

Maya on the other hand was a different case. Smart, yes, but no more then an average person. She did well in school but only through a lot of effort and hard work. If there was anyone here that would do poorly in college because of parties it was her. Of course she didn't plan on letting that happen but it would be a serious balancing act.

While Dee continued the tour Maya turned her gaze out of the window. Their new penthouse was situated in the corner of a building that gave a gorgeous view of both the canal that ran through the center of Founders Falls and the hilly areas surrounding it. Despite the area's developed nature the designers had managed to work in the natural surroundings with the water ways. The view would be perfect if it weren't for those war walls.

Walking closer to the window Maya started to make out the little dots moving on the walk ways below. Every so often she could see a slightly more colorful dot or a blurry streak moving faster then the cars on the street. The heroes of the city were always active, something she had no doubt her sister would be getting into. Casting a half hearted glance at her right hand she frowned.

Continuing in thought for a moment longer she quickly turned back toward her mom and sister, the frown replaced with a smile. "In fact I would say it has everything your house has mom only minus a few bedrooms and bathrooms." Maya added after her sister's comment about the pool and hot tub.

(OOC Yeah we're just getting back into Paragon. Fighting crime will begin once we get our characters resettled but glad to see there is interest already. Glad to have you on board.)

Maya wore an unamused expression on her face as her mother turned toward her. Her green eyes stared through her thin rimmed glasses and met Tabatha's gaze head on. Crossing her bare arms in front of her burgundy colored halter top she took the stance of someone who wasn't planning on backing down.

"Mom, I can't believe you're going to try and make that argument with me." Maya said with a huff and pushed back her long auburn hair with one hand before returning it to the crossed position. "I'm 18 and in college too. Don't you have a little faith that you raised me to be smart enough to make good decisions? Besides it's not like I havn't been living with her for the past year."

"I suppose but.." Tabatha started to say but paused for a brief moment as she searched for a reason.

"But you don't want to let your children go because you're experiencing empty nest syndrome." Maya seized upon the pause and interupted her mother, injecting her own opinions on the reason Tabatha was so interested in wanting her two daughters to stay with her. She was momentarily stunned by the comment and opened her mouth to respond though didn't say anything.

Maya continued the hard look for a few moments longer before dropping her arms to her side. She gave her mother a warm smile as Tabatha quickly closed her mouth. Right or wrong she had made her point about staying at Dee's refurbished suite. "Don't worry mom. I'll be sure to visit and I'll even bring Dee."

Her sister gave her a very doubtful look for the remark. In truth Maya wasn't sure she could get her sister to improve her relationship with their mother. However, it was worth a shot. Afterall Tabatha was always the one who always fought for full custody of the two of them. Maya was sure that there was genuine love there even if it was hard to see at times.

After a little longer Tabatha managed to collect herself enough to speak. "Well I suppose you've made up your minds then. I really am glad you decided to move back to Paragon and I look forward to your visits." She then turned her gaze back towards Dawn. "Shall we continue with the tour?"

The pack of four chariots sped around the second turn around the spine and started the second lap of the race. Atilius, despite his best efforts had not managed to widen his lead thanks to the tight cornering of the white team’s racer. He was also hampered by constantly having to fend off the red racer coming in from the outside.

Asha had little ability to make her way through the pack until the middle of the third lap. On the first turn around the spine Atilius turned tight with the white racer and rammed his chariot so that the left wheel bounced outside of the pylons that marked the edge of the track. There was a sharp crack as his axle hit one of the pillars and broke in two. The white team supporters gasped and groaned while the rest of the audience cheered as the chariot splinted and fell apart.

The white racer desperately attempted to reach the dagger on his belt to cut himself free as he was dragged along the track by his horses. Reacting quickly Asha whipped the outside horse and called out the command to move to the right to avoid the debris and then left to attempt to take the inside track. However Atilius too wanted the inside track and he was closer. Slowing slightly and shifting to the left he trampled the fallen white racer without a second thought and seized the prize position.

The fourth lap started with Atilius a full chariot length ahead of his remaining competition. Asha was right behind him, running along side of the red racer. As they entered the first turn the Scythian woman intentionally turned ride, throwing the weight of her chariot into his and trying to create an opening so that she could challenge Atilius for the lead.

In response the red racer flicked his whip at her instead of his horses. Asha felt the sharp lash fall across her right shoulder, easily tearing through the blue team tunic that she wore. Wincing in pain Asha kept one eye on the track and the other toward the red racer. He flicked his whip at her again, forcing her to duck to avoid the sting but also causing her to lose some ground. The crowds cheers of amusement were clear as they watched the two, some even forgetting who was in first place.

The fifth marker was lowered as the three remaining chariots once again completed a lap around the track. Asha once again pulled herself along side the red racer and predictably he attempted to thrash her with his whip. Tired of this pointless game she thrust her hand upward to intercept the whip in mid-flight. The leather whip smashed against the palm of her hand, making a deep cut. Clenching her fingers into a fist she quickly thrust the end of the whip into the wheel spokes of his chariot. The rapid spinning wheels quickly coiled the whip and snapped it from his hands.

Without the lash of his whip to keep his horses inspired and to signal when to turn, he quickly began to fall back, giving Asha the opening she needed to challenge Atilius for the lead. By the start of the sixth lap the female charioteer was pulling up along side the current leader. Not to be undone Atilius quickly shifted to the side, effectively blocking her from passing. Biding her time she waited until the middle turn, when Atilius would have to move back to the inside, to make her move.

Coming up around on his right side again she powered her way through the turn, throwing her weight into the inside of her chariot to avoid the centripetal pull to the outside. For a brief moment one of the two wheels left the ground but as the track straightened out again the wheel came down and Asha was now side by side with her remaining opponent.

The seventh and final lap started with the two running neck and neck. Repeatedly the two of them crashed their chariots together in order to force the other off balance. Every few seconds the lead changed from one to the other as they each pushed their team of horses to their limits. However Asha’s horses had worked hard in the battle with the red racer and it seemed that Atilius was leading for longer periods of time.

Entering the last turn there was one more trick Asha had left to play. With all of the encouragement her voice and whip could provide she coaxed one last burst of speed from the team. Cutting in close to her opponent’s chariot she brought the front part of the left wheel of her chariot between the body and the back of the right wheel of his. With a sudden turn to the right she brought the front of her wheel into the inside of his.

Time seemed to stand still as the moment of truth descended on the racers. One wheel was sure to give under the pressure. There was the protest of stressed wood followed by a spark where the wheels met and a sudden ear splitting snap. As the moment passed the wheel on Atilius’ chariot bounded free and continued to roll down the track. The right side of his chariot hit the ground hard and dug a trail in the soft dirt track. Asha couldn’t help but smile and drink in the self satisfaction of seeing Atilius’ expression as he realized his loss.

To the wild cheers of the crowd the female charioteer sailed across the finish line, her heart beating in time with the hooves of her horses. She had won. The deafening roar of the crowd was all for her. Today she was not just a slave. Today she was a hero in the eyes of Rome.

One by one the races went by. The crowds booed, the crowds cheered, but most importantly the crowds were entertained. Before Asha knew it the 8th race was upon her and she, along with the other three racers, heard the trumpets that announced the start of the race. Quickly she strapped on the leather helmet that all the racers wore, for all the good it did. Still, some protection was better then nothing.

Stepping onto her chariot she lashed the reigns to her waist as all charioteers did. At the speeds they were going and with all the bumps from the other racers it was easy to lose your grip and drop the reigns. Since doing so would cause you to lose most of your ability to steer the chariot all racers made sure to tie themselves to the chariot. It was the reason they all carried knives. If the chariot broke apart under the stress of racing your only hope was to cut yourself free. Otherwise you were in for a very gruesome drawn out dragging death or perhaps a quicker but no less gruesome trampling under the hooves of another racer’s chariot.

Asha squinted her eyes as the dim lantern light gave way to the bright shining sun. Shortly after the crowd burst into a roar of greetings. So strong and loud was their cheering that the female charioteer could feel the vibrations run through her body. The air was so charged with excitement that it was practically a tangible substance, that it could be tasted in the air. This was the moment that most of the racers lived for though for her it was a pale replacement for riding free on the open plains of her homeland.

As the grooms pulled her team of horses into the third starting gate she flashes a quick glance to her right, noting the red racer. She then flashed a look to the left and carefully gauged the white and green racers, especially Atilius Cornutus. Her surveying did not go unnoticed and the Atilius returned her look. “I’ve been looking forward to racing you. They say you’re protected by the gods. Is that true?”

Asha chaffed slight under the comment though she couldn’t deny that her reputation was such. It wasn’t an unusual thing though. Some would even say that Atilius was favored by the gods. However, that didn’t mean she had to like it. She would rather have it said that she won her races because she was skilled, not because the divine had a hand in things. “If that is what you want to believe.”

“Hah! That’s what I thought. Too bad. I enjoy beating those ‘blessed’ by the gods more then anyone else.” he answered.

Before the conversation could progress further the starter stood with handkerchief in hand. The grooms that had led the racers onto the track quickly fled to avoid being caught by the coming flurry of hooves. All eyes were on him, waiting with baited breath. As he released the piece of cloth there was a riotous cheer and the gates came crashing down. The four charioteers cried aloud and their chariots lurched forward with a burst of acceleration.

This was the most dangerous part of the race. All four charioteers knew how important the inside track was and all four wanted to get it on the first lap, preferably before the first turn. That led to a lot of crashes right at the beginning of the race. While it didn’t happen often it was not unknown for literally all of the chariots to be disabled in one giant and glorious pile up.

The white racer powered forward. He started on the inside lane and had the best position of them all. Atilius the green racer was keeping pace, edging to the side and nearly touching wheel to wheel as he urged his horses on. Asha edged her chariot over as well, putting the squeeze on Atilius. The red racer, perhaps the most determined of all due to his disadvantageous starting position was whipping his horse relentlessly and cutting hard to the inside to try and avoid getting forced into last.

As the four of them approached and then entered the first turn around the spine the crowd watched with fevered anticipation. The green and white chariots bumped, their wooden frames creaking as the wood wheels ground against one another. Their drivers both struggled to push the other out of position and secure the lead. Meanwhile the red racer’s extra efforts had pulled him enough ahead of Asha that when he cut in the turn his wheel threatened to clip the legs of her horses.

Seeing the danger Asha quickly pulled to the left, giving up some of her speed to remain out of danger. Coming out of the turn she was now behind Atilius who was about a half a chariot length ahead of the white racer with the red racer closing in on the other side. Asha of course would have preferred to get and hold a lead position but she was not dejected. This race was far from over.

The first race went by with the usual fanfare the Circus Maximus provided. By design it was not the most competitive of races but instead was meant to warm everyone’s appetites for what was to come. The green racer had won though it was not without strong competition from the white team’s racer. There was a great deal of close calls and near collisions though nobody crashed.

Away from the upper class where the mob sat the party was already well underway. This was one of the few releases from the tedium of working day in and day out that they could take part in. It was a time where they could really cut loose and bring out their wild side. All manner of behaviors that normally were not allowed in normal Roman society would be engaged in and in the background there was the constant murmur of people arguing over who the next winner would be.

All of this was far from Asha’s mind. She was busy making preparations for her race. Every part of her chariot had to be looked over and inspected. Like a wise racer she did not trust anyone to look after her equipment for her. It would be too easy for someone to bribe the caretakers or slip in themselves and loosen one of the wheels so that it would fall off mid-race. There were some people that would do anything to ensure the racer they were betting on won and many racers new to the business fell prey to them.

Walking around her racing chariot it never ceased to amaze her how insane riding in one of these races was. Though well built they were meant for speed and little else. The heaviest piece was the metal axle that stretched between the two metal shod wheels. Unlike a war chariot there was no floor to stand on. Instead there was a small space for the driver to place both feet. Other then that there was just the light wood frame that ran in front of the driver and the tongue that extended forward between the second and third horses which all four would be harnessed to.

Finishing her inspection Asha began to strap her four steeds into position. While she did so she looked from where she was toward the second race. It looked to be in the middle of the fifth lap and the red team racer was in the lead. He was working his horses hard, though, and she doubted he would be able to keep that pace for long. Even from where she stood she could see that the animals were starting to froth at the mouth. Looking back to her work she took a few calming breaths.

Asha carefully brushed one of the four horses that she would be using in the day’s race. It was a calming ritual for both horse and driver that formed a bond of trust that was necessary in a race like this. The animals especially were nervous about the situation. They weren’t as dumb as many people thought they were. There was a quality to the air, a certain excitement and energy that no human was sharp enough to perceive, that they picked up on and it told them that today was a race day.

As Asha finished with one horse and moved to the next she couldn’t help but think about how fortunate and unfortunate these horses were. They received nothing but the best in food and care. There were even guards to watch over them at night as it was not uncommon for fans of the three rival race houses to try and lame or drug their opponent’s animals, not to mention the spies from the bookies in the city who would like to shift the odds in their favor.

All of that care and protection came at a price though. The races were dangerous for all of those involved including the horses. Sometimes those seven simple laps could turn deadly. In fact that was what a lot of people at the Circus Maximus went to see. It wasn’t a true competition if one racer pulled ahead and stayed in the lead the entire race. Only when two of the charioteers were crashing into one another or threatening to pass would the crowd be satisfied. It wasn’t uncommon for a driver to be dragged or a horse to collapse and pull the rest of the team down. In both cases it was unlikely to avoid a fatality.

Moving to the third horse of her team of four her thoughts drifted to last night’s conversation with the rest of the blue team racers. As they did before any race they shared their thoughts and insights on the opponents they would be facing. Most important to her were the discussions about Atilius Cornutus, the main rival in her race. From those that had raced him before she learned that he preferred to take the lead early.

His primary strategy was to set a fast pace for the entire race. Any teams with inferior horses would soon fall behind to the point where they couldn’t catch up. Also, at high speeds it was easier to make a mistake. It was the typical of a rising star who wanted nothing more then to impress the crowds with a reckless display. Asha knew that if she had any chance of beating him she would have to be able to push her horses to their limits and not fall behind.

Pushing the race to the back of her mind Asha began brushing down the fourth and final horse in her team. With only a few hours till the start of the race she wanted to relax. There would be plenty of time for anxiety when the race was underway.

Away from the Campus Martius in a building with prominent blue flags displayed another event was taking place. Any Roman would have recognized the building at first glance. It was the home of one of the four chariot racing teams in the city. As the flags indicated it was the blues that occupied the building with the other three teams having their own headquarters far away. The rivalry between the different clubs was so intense that they could not be located next to one another.

There was no way to describe what the games meant to the citizens. Almost every Roman had their favorite team and their devotion was so fervent that riots had been known to break out between the different fans if they felt their team had been given a raw deal. At times the crowds were so transfixed that emperors and governors used the races as times to announce new taxes. Though the mob might complain and moan about them their attentions turned back to the track when the next race began.

The successful racers could easily become rich and famous even going so far as to make more money then a senator. Diodes, perhaps the most famous racer of all time, was said to have earned 35 million sesterces over his career. While such extreme examples were few and far between any racer that could survive and win was guaranteed a comfortable life.

Up the steps of the blue racing club ran a messenger, a rolled parchment clenched tightly in his fist. Entering the front doors the young boy approached a short looking middle aged man sitting at a table pouring over a book. His name was Junius Marcellus and he was the current manager of the blue team.

The moment he heard the messenger enter he looked up. Pushing himself out of his chair he walked over to meet the messenger and accept the parchment he carried. Unrolling it quickly read its contents, a smile forming on his face. This is what he had been waiting for. Days before the Emperor himself had announced that he would be calling for the games to be held. What had just been delivered was the schedule for the 12 races that were to be held tomorrow and who were in each of them.

Dismissing the messenger the stubby legged manager hurried to the backrooms of the building. Raising his voice he bellowed with a tone far louder then one would expect a man of his short stature to be able to produce. “Schedule’s here! Everyone gather in the meeting room!”

While the blue team’s racers trickled in Junius tacked the parchment to the wall. The heavy concentration of similar marks all around it indicated that he had a habit of handling all the announcements in this fashion. One by one the members of the blue team looked for their name on the list and which race it was that they would be participating in.

Last to the announcement was an unusual sight for a charioteer racer. That was because instead of a he, it was a she. Born on the steppes north of the Parthian empire she was one of a people known as the Scythians. A mostly nomadic people by nature they had lived and fought on the steppes for hundreds of years. What made these people unique among the world was that more often then not it was the women that were the most feared on the battlefield and not the men. It was tradition that before any Scythian woman was allowed to marry they had to kill a man from an enemy people. This legendary fierceness is what caused the Greeks to create their stories of the Amazons.

Despite all of the stories, this particular Scythian was not imposing in appearance. In fact she looked rather ordinary and at 5’4” hardly Amazonian. A simple but beautiful ordinary with only a different tone to her complexion and a slight slant to her eyes marking the influence of the eastern people in her bloodline. One would hardly expect to find her as a charioteer let alone atop a horse, bow in hand and raiding a settlement on the boarders of her people.

Finally finding her name she noted that she would be taking part in the 8th race of the day. Out to the side of her name were the names of her opponents, all of them names she had heard of before. Of particular note was Atilius Cornutus, one of the more popular racers at this point in time. A race with him was likely to draw a lot of betting which would mean a lot of money made if she won and bring her that much closer to buying back her freedom.

“Asha, why are you staring? It’s not going to change.” The manager said with a slight chuckle. Unlike many people he did not look down on any of his riders no matter their heritage. He only looked down on them if it turned out they had no racing talent after he purchased or hired them. “Come over here. There is strategy to discuss.”

Asha turned her back to where the parchment was tacked and toward where all the other racers were gathered, a simple little smile on her face. “Very well.”