IGP FMR (Book)

McCarthy sat in a hard, wooden, stiff-backed chair, his hair was the colour of black ink, short and spiked; his clothing was plain, white T-Shirt and Blue jeans with black running shoes. Before him was a table made of the same hardwood as the chair, it was to this that his hands were cuffed to via a small metal loop so even if he wanted to he couldn’t move his hands more than a few inches in any direction. opposite him were two more chairs exactly the same as his own, beyond was a section of mirrored glass to which he promptly rose a middle finger. On the left hand wall was a small window covered by a sheet of metal grate and on his right a plain wooden door in front of which stood a police officer.

McCarthy had been sitting in the interrogation room for what seemed like hours, he had just been interrogated by two burly officers who seemed to take joy in trying to make him frightened. Just the thought of those two made him smirk, he had been through his fair share of good cop bad cop routine, it was then that a slender woman in a grey pencil skirt and blazer pushed open the door behind the officer who stepped back, she raised up her identification to which McCarthy was able to see was an FBI ID badge. With a nod the woman dismissed the officer who promptly left closing the door behind him, the FBI Agent sat opposite McCarthy and started looking through  file which had a photo of him paperclipped to the top. While she read McCarthy took in her appearance, she was a brunette, hair neatly tied back in a bun, but he could tell it had some length to it. It seemed she had rarely if at all been in the field, her hands were too soft and smooth to have held a gun too often.

     “You have quite the rap sheet Mr McCarthy,” the agent stated at after  few moments as she lifted the top sheet she was looking at to the one under it, “Street Racing, AVT, Grand Theft, but now you’ve stepped up the game, getaway driver,” the agent finally looked up to McCarthy, “what's this now, the fourth heist in six weeks? Not looking good for you at the moment, they’re talking about putting you away for 15-20 without parole,”
     “I’ve done time before, no different” McCarthy replied calmly, it was true he had served time before several small stints mounting up to several years,
     “I can see that, a collective total of four years for various reasons all of which can mount up to almost a third of your life. Is this a path you really want to continue?”
     “I don’t get much choice in my life options, no one hires a driver with my background, what else can I do now but wok for criminals,” McCarthy sat back looking almost deflated having another person read out his wrong doings in such as way as he realised just how much of his life had been thrown away since he could reach the pedals in a car,
     “What if I told you that I am heading a new rehabilitation scheme courtesy of the FBI and the current state of the prisons being overcrowded?”
     “I would say you’re wasting your time, what could I possibly do if they’re trying to send me up the river without a paddle?”
The agent closed the file and pushed it to the side,

     “You take this opportunity, and this ..” she tapped the file, “..Disappears, you’ll have a fresh start and maybe a new career. You have skills behind the wheel McCarthy there is no denying it, but you are wasting them on people who will turn on you at a moments notice. Try this scheme out and maybe you might change your life.” The agent stood heading for the door, she had deliberately left the file in McCarthy’s reach, “You have three hours after that they’re taking you to booking to be tried, convicted and sentenced, I’ll expect and answer before then,” she opened the door, “I hope for your sake, it’s the right one.” With that the agent left the room.

The moment she was gone McCarthy reached for his file, pulling it towards him he scanned through it, reading up on just how much information the police and FBI had gained on him over the years. Everything was written in that file, from his various addresses to his height, description, vehicles he had either owned or stolen in the past, old haunts that he used to hang out in to escape the law. There was very little the FBI didn’t know. He gave a sigh, closed the file and lent back as far as his chained hands would allow. Whatever this rehabilitation scheme was, it had to be better than a life inside a six by eight cell. The only sound around him was the creak of the chair under him and the clink of metal on metal from the chain.

McCarthy didn’t know how long he sat there for deep in thought of the possibilities that were open to him, it was a clear fifty-fifty toss up, “Fine I’ll do it,” he said to the ceiling before sitting up and letting his chair drop back down with a clunk, part of him knew the agent was watching and listening behind the glass.

The following day found McCarthy seated on a plane, his hands and feet were again cuffed so he couldn’t run if he wanted to, beside him was an armed officer in a black stab vest and across the isle was the Agent who he had since found out was named Crawley. Agent Crawley had been on the phone before they had gotten into the plane talking animatedly to whoever was on the other end, McCarthy only caught snatches of the conversation, the seemed to be talking about procedures and contracts, now she was pouring over yet another file, this one was thicker and in a binder, trying to have a look at some of the pages was difficult, most of it was text which he couldn’t quite make out, but he did spot a layout of some kind, he still didn’t know what he was heading to, but he did know he was heading to some sort of HQ over in England.

Mike was sat at his desk a hand resting on his head as he poured over a report that had been faxed over to him. His office was like any other, filing cabinet in the far corner, a window that overlooked the premises, his desk was made of thick beech wood, a door sat in the left hand wall to which a knock came, “Enter,” Mike called as he looked up to the door, trying to make himself seem less flustered which was hard in these days. His team were practically rock bottom of the tables, no drivers wanted to join their team anymore and they didn't have enough money left over to even think of buying a driver. This was why he had been pouring over the faxed report, it detailed the conditions of the new agreement that he had spoken at length about over the phone to an American FBI Agent Crawley. According to the report the driver they had signed for was convict, he was to be signed with the team for one year as a rehabilitation order in accordance to a new scheme that had been put into place over there, this agreement was the first to be signed and finalised as a full contract.

Through the door walked Mike’s Technical director Pepijn Wuyts, who had a true german attitude, harsh, unforgiving and brutal, but he was fantastic at his job, they had been able to keep up with the back of the mid-fielders because of his extensive knowledge. “Boss, I ‘av concern for new driver, he be prisoner of America ya?”
Mike nodded, “Yes, it’s not an ideal situation for any of us, but we are on the ropes here, without this contract he would only have Lizzie as a driver and to only have one driver in a two car Sport such as this would be suicide for the company,”
“I understand, but can we trust ‘im?”
“In accordance to the situation report i have before me, he should be managed quite well, as i understand it there is an armed officer who is to escort him wherever he goes, he’ll have a tag that is linked to a proximity box that will be with us here at all time so he won't be able to go beyond track limits,”
“That is good ya, but vot about while he is here, he could cause issues ya?”
“He could, but can’t the officer assigned to escort him will be here too,”

Hours later McCarthy looked out of the back window of the unmarked police car they were being escorted in to the HQ they were heading for. He wanted nothing more than to be out of his chains but until he wa tagged they wouldn’t allow it. The HQ was a huge complex with several buildings surrounding a large parking area, as they approached McCarthy got a view of the logo on the side of the building, “CEX General Motors?” He questioned as they pulled up, with difficulty McCarthy stepped out of the car, with his hands and feet chained he could only make small strides and they moved inside the largest of the buildings around them.

Inside there were many people bustling around importantly, some with parts on carts, others with stacks of papers and files. The building seemed built for function rather than style, everything was there for a purpose and nothing more, one woman however caught his eye, She was tall with short spiky bleach blonde hair, she was donned in a Racing suit, the suit itself was mostly black with its arms and legs covered in red, the red sections outlined by three stripes of white black and then red again, all in all the effect was good, the woman turned towards him and her deep chocolate brown eyes fell upon him, “you won’t race too well with your hands tied,” she called to him in a Welsh accent, before he could reply the officer behind shoved him forward with his gun.

After a meeting with the Boss, a man named Mike Carter, who seemed stretched to breaking point, perhaps it was other matters, but having a convict as  driver couldn’t have helped his stress levels. It was made completely clear what McCarthy was to do at the facility, he was to become the second driver in a racing team that was on the rocks in terms of performance and money. His ‘contract’ was for the year, in which time McCarthy was to use his talents for the good of the team, it was agreed that he would not be paid during the year as he was still classed as a convict and under their ruling, he would be accommodated, but only to basic needs nothing more. His goal; to prove himself capable of learning and controlling his ability for the benefit of others and not crossing the law, he would be assessed by Mike and the rest of the team on his performance throughout the year.

McCarthy left the office, out of chains but now with a fancy new anklet that was the Tag device they were using to monitor him. He rubbed his wrists, having cuffs on for that length of time wasn’t comfortable. “Right, Agent Crawley tells me you have a lot of talent and that is the first thing on the agenda, to test where you are strong and where you need work,” Mike was telling him as they left the offices and headed for the test track, as they went McCarthy saw even more people here, many were in White and Black Pit Crew gear. These men and women were pushing Tires on specialist trolleys, pouring over simulation data or even looking at several monitors on the pit wall, these monitors had things like temperature data, lap times, weather conditions and even the status of the car, the last screen however was blank as the data for the car was not ready yet.

The test track itself was designed in such a way it had all sorts of corners, from sweeping bends to chicanes to tight hairpins. Alongside that were several different sections to the track, one section was a regular standard track, the second section consisted of road surfaces and the final section was set within a desert-like scene complete with fans dotted here and there to create the effect of sand being blown onto the track. All in all McCarthy thought it was a great way to test any car in all conditions.

     “And this is the car you’ll be driving,” Mike said as they came to the pit bay, McCarthy paused for a moment as he gazed upon the Monster before him. What he was looking at was a Formula One car, complete with Nose Wing, Tail Wing, hump-backed fuselage and a single seater cockpit. True it wasn't as sophisticated as the modern F1 cars, it was almost like an ex-generation F1 car but just as powerful and just as fast.
     “This is what I’m driving?” McCarthy asked,
     “If you’re scared, you can always go home,” called a Welsh voice from the other side of the pit, the woman he had seen earlier in the racing suit was standing beside the second of these cars as she was setting herself up for a run,
     “Miss Stark will be giving you a little competition for this run,” Mike told him with a smirk on his face,
     “I’m not scared, just never driven one before, but I’m glad to have the opportunity.”
     “Good, then lets go” Stark said as she pulled on her helmet. A few moments later and the beast of a car roared into life, she rolled the car out of the bay before spinning the wheels and tearing off down the pit straight,
     “Lizzie will do a few laps to warm up, your job is to follow her, get the feel of the car then try and keep up,” Mike explained as McCarthy was handed a plain white helmet before he was instructed on how to get into the car properly. He was also shown the controls to some of the functions of the vehicle like the Boost and the DRS.

It was several tense minutes before McCarthy’s car finally roared into life just as Lizzie Stark shot passed the pits for the fourth time. The crew pushed the car out of the bay, McCarthy was to wait until Stark was about to pass the pits again before he shot off after her leaving two black skid marks behind him. As the crew watched the back end of the car shook a little as McCarthy got control of it, “Now remember this car isn’t going to be like any other car you’ve driven before, there are going to be a lot of G-Forces to deal with and this car is going to feel glued to the track,” Mike was saying into the headset as McCarthy watched as Stark slowed enough for McCarthy to keep on the back end of her by several car lengths, “take a few laps to get used to the track and the car,”

At first McCarthy was taking corners tentatively, knowing how much this car must have cost to build he was a little concerned. After a while however he got faster, taking corners with ever increasing speed until on his seventh lap around the test track he over steered the car and spun. He finished on the track and not wanting to waste another second spun the car back around, but now without Stark to follow he was on his own. Trying to remember the course caused several mistakes, twice he almost banked it into a sand pit or gravel trap.

     “He’s got some skill I’ll give him that,” Muttered one of the crew as they watched on the monitors, “any other driver would take at least twenty or so laps before getting used to this course, but each lap he’s getting better,” Some of the crew were watching the times, “Stark just did a 1:32.295, but she’s still 3 seconds off her record,” stated another crew member,
     “Yeah but she’s keeping it slow for McCarthy,”
     “True, I would like to see McCarthy do flying lap, that might give use some indication of where his skill is really at,”
     “1:36.720 for McCarthy”
     “Hmm, not bad for a first timer,” Mike muttered looking at the times,
     “Stark’s catching up to him now though,”

The crew watched for several more laps as Stark slowly caught up to McCarthy, but at a slower and slower rate. Soon she was right behind him and something strange happened, with Stark now on his tail McCarthy started flying, taking corners at reckless speeds, “You might want to dial it back a little McCarthy you’ll over cook these tires before their life span at this rate,” muttered the engineer into the mic,
     “Let him go, I want to see what he’s got,” Mike told him, and indeed the crew did just that, they left McCarthy to his own devices.

On the track Stark was throwing everything at McCarthy to get by, but the harder she drove, the harder he defended, in McCarthy’s mind Stark was like a copper forcing him to pull over and he was having none of it, “would you look at that, both just hit 1:30,” muttered one of the crew watching the screens. In the end McCarthy’s inexperience caught up to him, Stark faked going around the outside to which McCarthy tried to block only for Stark to dive to the inside and take him easily.

     “Alright I’ve seen enough” Mike said over the mic to both drivers, “Bring the cars in and don’t wreck them, stick to the Pit Speed and use your limiters,” at that both cars slowed to a cruise, few minutes later they rolled into the pits one after the other. The two drivers hopped out of the cars as the crew moved in to push the cars back into the bays, “Not bad McCarthy, you might just keep up with me,” Stark said as she pulled off her helmet,
     “Name’s Carter, and once I get used to the car, I think I’ll pass you soon enough,” McCarthy replied with a smirk,
     “Oh I see, that’s how it is, is it,” Stark replied airily with a chuckle, the pair shook hands, “Lizzie,” she added,
     “Pleasure,”
     “Seems we’ve found our new talent,” Mike said to the crew as he watched his two drivers, he looked up to the sky as a cloud shifted overhead revealing a small patch of clear sky, “Perhaps this is the start of a new era for us.”

Wow, this is great, good job!

I hope you're considering making chapter 2 or even working on chapter 2 right now because this is some incredible writing. To come up with such a detailed, believable, logically structured story from names in the game is unique and difficult and definitely something I have never seen before (at least to this extent) in iGP's forums...

Well done Mike and I hope you keep making more of these!

For the following fortnight McCarthy was subjected to a vigorous training regime testing his Physical, Mental and Driving Abilities, most of this was done on a fancy looking simulator that's sat in its own little building. The building itself looked like a large dome, but the machine inside was state of the art, with the ability to program almost anything into the computer, the best feature was that it could simultaneously link two separate simulators together so that he and Stark could train together.


Before long however they were heading for the first race of the new season, “So the commentators or the other teams know nothing about me?” McCarthy was asking as
they took the Company plane to Melbourne,
      “As of yet no, we are supposed to brief them on a new line up if we have one or if we don't what processes we are taking to get one,” Mike replied as he swirled a single malt around his glass,
    “This could be an advantage,” McCarthy had an evil idea forming in his head, he lifted his right leg onto his left knee as he looked to the anklet he still wore, then he turned to the Armed officer who was assigned to him; McCarthy had learnt the officers name by this time, Officer Hopps was a good officer and had become friends with McCarthy over the last few weeks, that said he still carried his  gun and wore his vest, it was mandatory when on duty, McCarthy had taken to calling him Shadow since he had to follow him around and was always wearing his black police uniform, “Hey Shadow, you still got those chains right?” 
    “Of course, but what do you want with those?” Hobbs asked in return curious,
    “Mike how long can you legally withhold the information about driver line up?”
    “Well i have to tell them something when we arrive, but legally we don't need to tell them anything until the qualifying,” Mike replied with just as much curiosity as Officer Hobbs,
    “Good then here is what we do…” McCarthy outlined his idea to the rest of them,
    “Oh that’s brilliant,” Stark chimed in after he explained, “Evil, but brilliant, you sure you’ll be alright though?”
    “Of course,”


As the cameras swapped from watching the Car of track to the activity in the pit bay the cameras found the CEX General Motors pit pay, as was planned by the team before hand, during the practice and qualifying McCarthy was to stay inside the car even while they made adjustments around him. Officer Hopps stayed as close to the car as he could in full gear and with his gun, it was this the camera focused on, “Ah we have found the new driver for CEX General Motors, he’s already in the car perhaps he’s to do a run soon,” Huffman commented watching the screen,
    “I don’t think so Noah, th cr has no tires and it looks as if they’re still adjusting the wings,” Marious added,
    “Seems to be an armed officer on the side of the bay,”
    “That’s a special forces officer too,”
    “Wonder what that’s all about,”
    “We’ll soon find out no doubt, but it is a little curious as to why he would be there,”
    “Only reason i can see is McCarthy,”


The discussion went on for a while even as the cameras moved on to other images, depicting the various other teams and drivers as they prepared or discussed the tactics or set ups. Soon several other cars started heading for the track and they started doing practice runs and the discussion turned to the times.
When they had set everything up in the Pit Bay at the Melbourne Track, the entire week then became a bustle of things to do, press conferences and drivers meetings for which, as part of the plan, McCarthy wasn’t to be a part of, but thanks to technology he could be via a tiny camera set into a shirt that Lizzie wore, the tiny camera wasn’t visible unless you looked for it because it was set into a pin of the Welsh flag that was pinned to the shirt. On the receiving end was McCarthy watching and listening to the feed on a screen in the pit bay.


Of course the Media were after answers as to who the second driver was and how the team were going to handle the competitive nature of the League with a failing car. Mike was all ready for them; “We are yet to confirm a driver for the seat, but are looking at several candidates, it’s been a tough decision throughout the winter to find the right driver to help lift us from the rut that we’ve gotten into.”


There were more tests to do both in the simulator and with the teams doctor making sure that McCarthy and Stark were fit enough to race, both passed with ease. Over the week the other teams started turning up and setting up themselves, it became harder and harder to try and keep McCarthy a secret. So much so that it came to a point on Friday where they had to reveal the name of their second driver.


When practice started McCarthy stayed in the car even as the pit crew worked around him making adjustments where he asked for them. Officer Hopps was ever present standing in full armour with his gun on the side of the pit bay, keeping out of everyone’s way but still his presence in the bay brought everyone’s focus, especially the media. New questions were fired off at every angle from all stations that were covering the Races. All of them were asking ‘why was Officer Hopps there?’.


Finally it came down to qualifying, McCarthy had done well in the practice runs but still finished too far down the field for his liking. Therefore when he began his Qualifying lap he put everything into it, as planned Officer Hopps was to hop onto a Police Bike that was waiting at the back of the pits, he jumped onto the bike and waited, McCarthy crossed the line and brought the car to the end of the pit bay where he promptly stopped the car and made a run for the nearest exit. Right on cue Hopps ook off on the Police Bike and the crowd stood on their feet to watch if they were close enough or focus on the multitude of TV screens that displayed the scene before them.


McCarthy tried remembering where the Exit Mike told him about that would have taken him to the nearest road, but as was the plan McCarthy had put into place he would never get there as Officer Hopps screeched into sight. Giving a look of fear McCarthy promptly turned face and ‘attempted’ another escape, right on cue Officer Hopps lifted his gun that was filled with rubber bullets. The shot rang out in the area but also around the track as it was plastered over the screens around the track, the rubber bullet hit McCarthy square in the back, instantly he went down, but got back up again, a second shot fired, this one stuck McCarthy in the side and he spun to the ground, McCarthy took a while to get back up again, but Officer Hopps was already riding towards him, this time he switched to the Automatic weapon he usually carried and pointed it directly at McCarthy, “Enough McCarthy, do not make me put you down,” to this McCarthy stopped he stood for a moment breathing heavy both fro the running and the pain of the rubber bullets they really did hurt, but he was trying not to show it, putting on a show for the camera’s, slowly he raised his hand turning to the Officer. Hopps stood off the bike still with his weapon raised, it wasn’t until he was next to McCarthy did he lower it to take out the cuffs, this was when McCarthy made his move, he moved quickly in an attempt to subdue Hopps, but it seemed Hopps was just too fast and took up his gun once more placed the barrel on McCarthy’s temple, “go ahead, keep resisting, it’ll look better on the report,” after which he placed McCarthy in cuffs.


While Officer Hopps was taking the moment to place the cuffs on McCarthy he whispered, “you alright?”
    “Yeah,” her replied as Hopps led him away back to the pits, one of the stewards retrieved the Bike and wheeled it back to the bits where it was previously. Out in the stands and in the commentary box talk burst out about what they had just witnessed, this was just what they wanted.


The following day it was time for the Race. While the sun shone down over the track a blistering 34 degrees air temp it was clear that the team had made the right choice in going for the Hard Compound Tire. As the start of the race neared several cars made their way to the Grid, once again their plan was taking action, Stark drove McCarthy’s car to his grid slot, another stunt that had the commentators muttering, as she left the car McCarthy was marched out of the bay, his hands were cuffed as were his feet, his hands and feet were also chained together by a third chain just like he had worn before. The chains once again limited his strides and his ability to raise his arms. Behind him Officer Hopps was marching him towards his car, gun in hand. Only once he was at the car did he unchain McCarthy, around him the crew put on his fireproof balaclava, neck brace and helmet while his hands were still cuffed, only once her was in the car did the cuffs get removed.


From that moment everything to prepare for the race went smoothly, one of the crew was left with McCarthy and Officer Hopps so that a black umbrella could give him some shade from the heat, McCarthy opened up his helmet just as Mike walked over to the car, he was making sharp pointed gestures toward McCarthy as if he was scolding him for something but his voice was calm, “Right now we’re not in the best of positions but with this heat we might be able to get back into the race later on so don't over cook the tires too early, are you ok from yesterday?”
    In reply McCarthy made dismissive gestures back to Mike as if th pair were arguing, “yeah few bruises, but otherwise fine, remember on the radio, act annoyed as if you’re at the end of your tether,”
    “I know, and you’re aggressive, angry and don’t want to be here. By the way, they’re buying right into it, part truth, part flare, your plan worked perfectly, we are all over the papers and media which is just what we need, publicity, good luck” Mike stood up from the car, “Bring that car home in one piece, you got it?” he said raising his voice a little,
    “These lot better not be in my way then,” McCarthy retorted, he turned back to face the rear of the car in front shrugging his shoulders as if trying to get more comfortable while also shrugging off Mike’s presence.


Around them people were muttering, many of the media were trying to make a bee-line for Mike, but he dodged them or just muttered no comment, which they seemed to take as the best news they had ever heard, quietly McCarthy smiled to himself, they were drinking it all in.


The last few moments before the race seemed to disappear in no time flat, during that time McCarthy just thought about the race before him and the other racers around him he had to seem aggressive, but not be too aggressive with his movements. he closed his eyes centering himself, this would be 56 laps of wheel to wheel battling tooth and nail for ever position he could get.


The roar of several engines starting up woke McCarthy out of his reprieve, soon the light lit up for the formation lap lit up and the cars on the front row moved off easily soon the whole train of 32 cars rolled down the straight towards the first chicane. as they formed up into a neat line behind them all the crews, mechanic and people that had been on the grid moved to the pits to get off the circuit while the cars came around.


Out on the track McCarthy warmed up his tires yes, but he did so in a way that his was only inches behind the car ahead, weaving back and forth across the track to get his tires warmed up the driver ahead spoke to his crew chief over the radio, “Tell McCarthy to back off, he could hit me,”
    “We see that Carlos, we’re trying to get a message to CEX now,”
    “He is fool, dangerous,”
    “Just try to stay away from him,” replied the chief, in response Carlos accelerated as far forward as he could without running into the car that was in front of him.


    “McCarthy we’ve had a radio from Handy Motorsports, Carlos would like you to back off,” Mike informed McCarthy over his radio, McCarthy didn't do anything, “you hear me?”
    “I hear you, i just don’t care,” he replied as he continued to hound the back of the Handy Motorsports car ahead until the rounded the final corner to get back onto the grid, only then did McCarthy splot perfectly into his box.


    “Carlos, you’ll have to keep an eye out for this one, he flat out refused to listen to Mike,” Ads informed Carlos as the grid reformed up, eventually the lst few cars slotted into place and two lights lit up at the start finish line and engine gave an almighty roar,
    “So long as he be good,” Carlos replied as four lights lit, then six, eight, ten. By now every engine was screaming for the off.


The lights winked out and every car left screeching tires in their wake as they chased each other to the first corner once more, but this time they were going for positions. McCarthy weaved his car to the inside lane and as the other cars moved to the left to prepare for the corner, McCarthy stayed right, beside him cars were sliding backwards but still McCarthy accelerated forward ...