Perigord - 1922
Current Affairs: North American is balkanised into five Nations, leaving a neutral contested territory running from Northern Idaho down to Texas.
Monte Carlo style racers now conduct Life or death road races within the territory.
Divergence Point: Napoleons forces are innoculated against Yellow Fever and destroy the Haitian Slave rebellion in 1802.
French foreign minister Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord persuades Napoleon to reject Thomas Jefferson’s request for the Louisiana Purchase and reinforces his American Colony with newly freed slave soldiers.
The Westward Expansion is halted leading Joshua Norton to successfully establish the Bear Flag Empire on the West Coast and a North America divided amongst Nations.
Hope Road Boundary County, Idaho – 7.42am
The scarlet Fokker Dr.I banked left and then swept right into a downward assault, Spandau machine guns churned 7.9mm Mauser ammunition across Hope Road.
Sonny grimaced and screwed his face up tight, rather than curse, roadsters ahead of them were being chewed up by their ariel attackers, Hoste watched as the malevolent tri-plane raced over them like a streak of blood across the morning sky.
“IT’LL BE GREAT, HE SAID” started Sonny, spinning the Aston to avoid skidding caddy, its occupants riddled with holes, “BEST RACE OF OUR LIVES HE SAID”
Eddie Hoste rolled his eyes and shook his head, all the while pulling a sturdy leather holdall up from the foot well onto his lap, within a few seconds he had assembled the Steyr Composite carbine contained within.
“JESUS” Sonny finally gave in, as the pursuing bi-planes blanket of fire thudded off the trunk, fortunately the Astons composite armour repelled the assault.
The big man’s gaze momentarily darted to the weapon as Eddie fitted its scope
“THOUGHT WE AGREED NO CHEATIN” shouted Sonny over the roar to the engine, gunfire and the screeching of devastated cars.
“IN CASE YOU HADN’T NOTICED THEY’VE GOT WARPLANES, I DON’T REMEMBER THAT BEING ON THE POSTER AND YOU ARE A FINE ONE TO TALK!" he retorted looking meaningfully down at the roadster then wincing as a cloud of dust swept over the car.
“WELL IN THAT CASE DO SOMETHING ABOUT THEM!” bellowed Sonny as several Mauser rounds punched across the right drivers side and shunted the roadster sideways, and off the concrete.
Fortunately running off road granted them a brief respite, as Sonny performed a quick gear shift, gunned the engine and raced along the slope on the side of Hope Road.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M DOING” retorted Eddie, having finally assembled the Steyr, “WE NEED TO BE BACK ON THE ROAD!”
Sonny nodded and the pair ducked as a Cadillac erupted in flames, careered into an older piece of automotive wreckage and became airborne, descending down over the slope and finishing its death roll on the scrubland below.
The Aston bellowed as the big man let her out “ITS ALRIGHT GIRL”, he said patting the wheel, Hoste for his part thought that his driver had finally lost it, kneeling up on the seat he jammed his right knee against the walnut dash, he then leant the carbine on the oval wind shield and sighted up on the red tri-plane.
The Red Baron swooped into a downward elevation, levelling out at a height of 70 feet and racing towards the four remaining racers, his Jagdstaffel better known as the Flying Circus had fanned out each swooping in turn to harass or destroy the racers from the rear.
Hoste fired, in reality Eddie was no soldier a competent combatant but no real training other than with his Mothers people, however high tech recoil compensation and scopes worked wonders.
The Starburst Flare rounds erupted around the tri-plane, each dissolving in the air and then igniting in a great eruption of light.
“Ficken Hölle!” swore the Red Baron, as his corneas were bombarded by piercing flashes of light
“Was zum Teufel war das?” he grunted as he banked and accelerated, as the Tri-plane thundered past Eddie clicked the dual mags and fired, hitting an ariel target travelling at over a hundred miles an hour from the ground was borderline miraculous for his marksmanship, so he was quite pleased when the plane appeared to shudder from his burst.
“WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST SHOOT HIM WITH BULLETS INSTEAD OF FLARES?” Sonny shouted grumpily and swung to avoid another burnt out vehicle
“HAVE YOU EVER TRIED SHOOTING DOWN A PLANE?”
“NO” replied Sonny
Hoste gave his partner a scathing look as he once again braced himself to face aft, Sonny weaved the Aston as another racer lost its rear end to a lethal volley from above and quickly finished by the next two Fokker D.VII’s, racing past like eager hawks.
Sighting up he switched mags once again and fired, sending a line of Starbursts across the front of the warplanes, Hoste blinked in shock as one of the planes shuddered and started to tumble, one of the rounds having landed in the open cockpit and setting the pilot on fire!
“Holy crap “ he said
“WHAT, WHAT IS IT” bellowed Sonny, annoyed that he couldn’t see
“I GOT ONE”
“ABOUT TIME!”
Eddie looked incredulously at his driver and resumed fire with real ammunition.
“LANS” bellowed the Red Baron as he saw the already blackened plane plummet
“Ficken Arschloch” he snarled as he swung around, ‘How the hell was a marksman from a car able to hit them?’ he mentally cursed
The remaining Fokker’s spread, their pilots shaking the flares effects, unfortunately for the racers daylight had diluted the impact of the flares and the Red Tri-plane was circling back.
“SHIT” hissed Hoste
“WHAT NOW?” shouted Sonny
“THE FLARES AREN’T SLOWING THEM AND I CAN’T TOUCH THEM WITH REAL AMMO!”
“SO WE’RE SITTING DUCKS, WE’RE CLEAR OF THE WRECKAGE AND COVER” the big guy replied
Eddie chastised himself ‘Damnit think Hoste you idiot!’
The Aston broke onto open road, the last of the wreckage passed, the Red Baron fell in with the rest of his Flying Circus, the road now clear of wreckage the surviving racers had nowhere to go, revenge would be sweet.
“GOT IT” shouted Hoste, making Sonny jump
“WHAT”
Hoste ignored him and scrambled around in his pockets cursing as his quarry eluded him, finally he produced the stubby plastic tube with a clear Perspex tip.
He quickly re-positioned himself as one of the bi-planes dropped from formation into a strathing run, “Take this you fucker” he snarled as he activated the device and sent a red beam of light up at the planes pilot, the high intensity laser pen struck the planes wind shield and then flashed across its pliots goggles
“GOTT IM HIMMEL” shouted the blinded pilot as the flickering red light blinded him and he uncontrollably banked right, Hoste flashed the next two to descend, dropped the pen in his lap, replaced both this magazines and opened fire.
Explosive incendiary rounds erupted around the flailing Fokker planes, their pilots experienced enough to compensate for losses of vision due to flack, they however still had to slow their planes to avoid losing control.
The lowest planes engine stalled as its pilot surrendered to panic and it careered into the road, the next felt his plane get struck and a sudden gain in drag as Hoste’s scattershot fire had found its lower wing, the third plane fell victim to Eddies second piece of luck his rounds striking the prop and subsequently engine head on, erupted in flames and straithed the now descending remainder of the Circus with shrapnel.
Furious the Red Baron signalled the survivors of the Flying Circus, each peeled off gaining as much altitude as possible and turning away.
The final Fokker its wing damaged turned slowly to retreat, Hoste having more breathing room sighted up, cold anger crossed his face, he allowed the plane now side on to him to cross his sight and fired, riddling its fuselage with eruptions of explosive fire.
He finally removed himself from his uncomfortable physical wedge and slumped back down in his seat, Sonny said nothing and opened up the throttle.
