An emergency council meeting had been called at Roger's insistence. Hammond had a plausible theory on how the New World Order was crossing over to his world and they were discussing plans on how to beat the enemy and the megadeus they faced earlier that day. Hammond's theory, according to Beck, had made the most sense. They were using the portals to connect to his world and possibly to satellites. Hammond was getting animated with his explanation.
"It would explain why they had operations at the planetarium. Those telescopes can see anything light years away from us, so why not a satellite. But to take it one step further, why not open the portal in the sky to view the sky at night and pinpoint satellite positions in my world? Some satellites are military grade, and if they were to communicate to their base to launch a weapon of sorts in my world, it would cause mass panic and confusion. And then in the process…"
"March in with an army of robots and take over your world…" said Roger, "So, how did you guys get into our world?"
"My car has satellite navigation out of all three of us and it's the most modern. It's possible they had opened a portal to see if it was night, and in the process, my sat nav linked up to their technology, which allowed us to drive through the portal by accident."
"So, their machine isn't calibrated properly. Otherwise, it would've opened in the sky. But why open and close portals?"
"The planet rotates, mate. It might be day here, but it's night elsewhere. Night's better for planetariums to view positions of the stars and satellites, if you don't have a computer tracking them."
Angel sighed. "I'd rather not have that information leave this room. Our research group is still studying that, and we don't need to deal with the public outcry."
Hammond nodded at Angel.
"So, we have two problems. We have a megadeus that's strong enough to take on all the Bigs, and we possibly may have the New World Order gaining numbers again and building an army," said Dastun, "And it seems the New World Order has a base of operations or a staging point. It makes sense. After their fall, they were very loud over the years, but have remained quiet since the start of Dr. Woodward's trial. He's beengiving them orders to the outside and organizing them. This means we'll need to be in two places at once. I'm sure if the megadeus appears again, it'll be as a distraction to keep you three busy."
Roger, Beck, and Hammond nodded. Hammond sat down by Roger, who grabbed his shoulder.
"My client's motives have been clear from the get go. I see no reason to doubt his theory or his sincerity to pilot Big Duo to protect our world and his. He has just as much to lose as we do. However… considering that we are treating him and his friends as dignitaries, an alliance should be formed with the three of them, representing their country. They were dragged into this, and therefore, they should have a choice whether they want to fight or not," said Roger.
"But we're already treating them as ambassadors, Roger. What more do you want the PEF to do?" asked Angel, annoyed.
"We're treating them more as guests than as political allies. This would be a first for our nation, forming an alliance with someone, not only from a different country, but a different world. And, with that alliance comes sharing our secrets, both political and military. In other words, forming a bond of trust to withstand time itself."
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" yelled Angel, "For one, we don't know if the New World Order has made a connection to the other world! We run the risk of invasion from that world!"
"My clients know cars, and have a rudimentary understanding of the enemy's technology. Are you saying they would bring back an army with them when they have already expressed their world would've thrown them in a mental institution? And if someone from their world knew about us, then why haven't they attacked us already, knowing what we possess?" asked Roger, annoyed.
Angel had no retort and sighed. Roger smirked and kept speaking.
"I have full faith and confidence that our world will remain a secret and they won't disclose it. But…"
Roger was interrupted by the meeting doors opening and Clarkson and May walking in, with the guards behind them.
"Sir," said one of the guards, "I do apologize, but you're not…"
"I don't give a damn if I'm allowed or not! That's my best mate, and if he thinks he's going to do this alone, then he has another thing coming!" yelled Clarkson.
Roger laughed out loud and dropped his pen on his notepad, in a satisfactory gesture. As Roger waved the guards out of the room, Angel and Dastun rolled their eyes as Beck held back his smirk.
"What's so funny?" asked May, annoyed.
"Well, you were the very subject of conversation, Jeremy and James. And, I was arguing that you should have a say whether you want to fight," said Roger, grinning.
"Look, that's our mate who's chosen to pilot this, Big Duo-thingy, and he's not doing it alone…" began Clarkson.
Hammond began to make himself small at the council table. "Chaps," he said, quietly, aware that all eyes were on him and his colleagues.
"He stood by me years ago, and now, we are going to stand by him. If you want him, well, we're a packaged deal. Where he goes, we follow!" said Clarkson, irately.
"Chaps…" said Hammond, a little more loudly now.
"And what ever he's going through to get him up to shape to pilot this Big, well, we want a giant robot too so we can help him fight…" began May, but Hammond cut him off.
"CHAPS!"
Clarkson and May looked at Hammond.
"WOT?" they both shouted at him.
"You didn't hear Roger. You have a say if you want to fight or not…" said Hammond, massaging his brow out of embarrassment.
"Ohhhh…" said Clarkson and May, quietly.
Roger grinned at the trio, then turned around to look at the council.
"Well? It seems I was right, Madam President."
Angel shook her head. "Wipe that grin off your face, Negotiator. I've had it up to here…"
"Well, seeing as these two want to help out, I think this solves our problem of being in two places at once," interrupted Beck, smirking, "As it so happens, I've been experimenting with a giant mecha of my own that could survive 5 minutes of the Big Guy throwing me around. But, seeing as the New World Order has only probably built a small army of tiny mechs, Mr. Clarkson and Mr. May here could help the MPs out and take them out. Once they're done, they can join the main battle with us three."
Angel narrowed her eyes at Roger and Beck, fully annoyed. She was fed up with everyone.
"FINE. Bring it to a vote. All those in favor of our ambassadors participating in, what hopefully is, the last fight with the New World Order?"
Everyone's hand went in the air, including Hammond's, Clarkson's, and May's. Only Angel didn't raise her hand. Dastun, who had raised his, was being eyed angrily by his wife.
"Well... I mean, Beck has a point, dear," he said, nervously, scratching his head.
"Fine!" and Angel raised her hand.
"Then it's unanimous! Mr. Hammond, Mr. Clarkson, and Mr. May, please remain here while we take care of some details," said Yumi, brightly.
"Roger, you better not screw this up," said Angel, before storming off. Dastun shook his head as Dorothy laughed.
"She'll be fine, Dan," said Dorothy, reassuringly.
"I hope you're right, Dorothy. I just put myself on the couch tonight."
Roger laughed, until Dorothy elbowed him.
"What?" asked Roger, innocently.
"Stop it…" said Dorothy, shaking her head, and she turned to look at the trio as Yumi walked towards her.
"We'll need to get them measured for their suits, Dorothy, and then there's training…"
"Roger and your husband can help Rich with Big Duo. But, you and me, we can help the other two with that mecha…" Dorothy said, writing things down.
"Oh no, you two. That's my baby…" said Beck, "Crow Boy's been the pilot of a megadeus the longest, so he'll have the job teaching Shortie…"
Hammond sighed as he looked at Clarkson and May, while the rest of the group talked amongst themselves.
"What changed your mind, Jezza?" Hammond asked Clarkson, curiously.
"More or less, the same reason you're staying. I guess I'm just home sick, and to be honest, definitely tired of their alcohol."
"Well, either way, thank you," said Hammond, with a small smile, "And I'm sorry about earlier."
"Don't worry about it. I guess… well, this is all new for us, isn't it?"
May shook his head. "Well, things could be worse, right? At least we're not in prison, or dead… yet."
Hammond and Clarkson laughed while May looked them, confused as to what they were laughing about when he actually had been serious about the matter.
And, so, after I had healed, the training began. My clients were given a crash course in megadeus piloting. Rich seemed to respond rather well, though he still had difficulty with some of the advanced maneuvers. Because of this, his training took place in The Wastes. Jeremy had given me a warning, but after the third crash, I decided to heed it. The sand dunes provided cushion from his crashes and only allowed minimal damage on Big Duo.
Jeremy and James took a hands-on approach to their training. They began working on Beck's mecha, which annoyed Beck to no end. Though, some of the long-range weaponry he had created suspiciously resembled Big O's and Big Fau's. Though, as the Chief Machinist of the SCA, I guess he does have some liberty to experiment with weapons systems, and better on his mech than Big O or Big Fau. But what was interesting about Beck's mecha was that he included both the pilot and machinist inside the cockpit. It seemed James was more mechanically inclined than Jeremy, so James became the machinist of Beck's unit. Jeremy seemed to be the better fighter, so he became the pilot. But in terms of working together, Beck was having a hard time getting them to work in sync with each other and had his work cut out for him, like I had with Rich.
The biggest complaint I received from my clients was the combat training. Rich, out of all three, was the most fit, but the other two… were definitely works in progress. Beck and I had a hard time communicating self-defense moves to them, so we called in Norman for help. He seemed to be able to get through them and passed their mental block. Beck had insisted on some form of physical combat training, figuring it would help aid them in their piloting abilities. While I didn't disagree with his logic, the painful rate at which they were progressing was… well, frustrating.
Everyone was on edge. Dastun pulled from the academy and was searching the underground and outlying areas of the cities to find the new base of the New World Order with all the manpower he had. Finding their base of operations and shutting them down was top priority. Of course, even with training, Beck and I were on standby, ready to go at a moment's notice in case the megadeus came back. Dastun had personally interrogated Dr. Woodward himself, but with no luck. Woodward, despite being sentenced to death, was keeping tight lipped about his organization's operations. Angel had even offered to convert his sentence to life, but when Dastun told him about the offer, Woodward laughed maniacally, and said he was ready to die. It was at this point that we realized negotiating with him was completely off the table. He was ready to die for his cause and become a martyr.
Two weeks have passed. Beck and I started seeing progression in my clients' training. James and Jeremy were starting to find their rhythm working together, and Rich was only crashing one out of every three landings. Now, it seemed he only had difficulty mastering a combat attack maneuver while in the air, which considering how much progress he had made in such a short time, was impressive. But it wouldn't have mattered to him, considering his attitude toward the subject.
"BLASTED! I thought I had it that time!" said Hammond, throwing his helmet on the ground in frustration.
Roger and Hammond were on a salt flat, enjoying a break in the middle of The Wastes. Dunes surrounded them while Big O and Big Duo provided the only source of shade. Roger chuckled.
"Don't be so hard on yourself. For someone who has no experience piloting mechas, you have a natural aptitude for them. You're bound to have some areas where you excel and others where you'll need more work. And the Bigs themselves are in a different category when it comes to mechas in general. You've accomplished a lot in a short time and that's something to be proud of."
"Yeah, but if I can't execute this attack, I'll just be handicap to you and Beck, or a casualty," said Hammond, gloomily.
"Don't think like that. Jeremy actually suggested to me to turn your crashing ability into a technique, though Beck was vehemently against it, figuring it would do significant damage to Big Duo. Jeremy said, 'make it useful for once.'"
"Damn bastard… I'll show him useful… with a missile up his arse!"
Roger laughed out loud. "Now that I would like to see…"
Hammond gave Roger a wry grin. "So would I."
Hammond took a drink of water, staring at Big O and Big Duo as Roger got up from the ground.
"It's a shame my world isn't more receptive to such things. The Big Chap is really not that bad," said Hammond.
"How so?" asked Roger, confused.
"Compared to the first time I piloted him, he's not as… apprehensive I guess is the word? At least that's what I felt. I guess, when he showed me what happened to him a long time ago, he was scared… scared he was going to be used for the same purpose."
Roger said nothing, listening to Hammond as he continued speaking.
"But now, it's like he has this child-like presence about him. Like he's happy to be piloted and he's having fun doing what we've been doing. I don't know how to explain it, but that's the feeling I get from him… though I still think I'm barking mad for thinking and even voicing such things, even to you. And you've been doing this a lot longer than I have."
Roger smirked. "Funny, that's how I feel about Big O sometimes, especially now that I have kids. I think he's a lot happier now than when I first met him. And you're not going 'barking mad,' Rich. Like Beck and I keep telling you…"
"I'm just as sane as you two. I know, I know," said Hammond, getting somewhat annoyed hearing the same thing over and over.
Roger hit Hammond's back. "Come on, let's try that maneuver again."
"Oh, come now, Roger. Enough for one day! It's getting late!"
"One more time. You nearly had it last time. Let's run it again."
"Oh bollocks!" and Hammond picked up his helmet from the ground and went over to Big Duo. Big Duo lowered himself to one knee and lowered his hand to the ground.
"It seems like you're eager to try again, Big Chap. Fine then, I guess we'll give it one more go," said Hammond, putting on his helmet as he stepped on Big Duo's hand.
Big Duo raised his hand to the cockpit and Hammond climbed inside. Hammond climbed into the seat and began the startup sequence.
"Well, here's hoping we hit him. That was embarrassing on that last run."
"Don't focus on that," Roger's voice came over the mic, "Focus on completing the attack. If you think you can, you've won half the battle."
"That's the problem," said Hammond, finishing up the startup sequence and crossing his arms, "I know I can, and I still mess it up."
Roger laughed as Big Duo's eyes flashed and got into his take off stance. Big O assumed his fighting stance. Big Duo took off into the air as Roger watched, clouds of sand moving along the edge of the salt flat.
"Alright, Big O. We need to build up his confidence, so don't pull anything. I want him to get this move down. Rich, same as before. Build up your speed, and once you get there, begin the attack run," said Roger.
"Copy that," said Hammond.
Hammond took Big Duo even higher, circling Big O slowly.
"Alright Big Chap… let's not miss him again. Here we go!"
Hammond began the attack run, closing in on Big O. Big O brought his guard up, keeping it slightly open so that Roger could see Big Duo closing in.
Alright, Rich. Come on. You got this.
The distance grew smaller between the megadeuses. At the last second, Hammond straightened up Big Duo, the propellers now turning into fists, as Big Duo drew back.
"I GOT IT!" yelled Hammond, excitedly.
Hammond almost had the attack. As he brought the joy con forward, it made contact with shields of Big O, but as he was coming in fast, the punch glanced off of Big O, and the continued momentum of the punch kept Big Duo falling forward, past Big O. Hammond braced himself for impact as Roger turned Big O around to watch. There was a large rumble and then the ground stopped shaking. A giant cloud of sand appeared in the air, covering Big O and Big Duo. Roger was laughing in the cockpit.
"You definitely had it. Now, to stick the landing. We're making progress at least," chuckled Roger.
As the sand settled, all that could be seen of Big Duo was the lower part of his body sticking out of the dune. Hammond was not happy.
"GET ME OUT OF THIS BLOODY SAND DUNE!" he cried out over the intercom, causing Roger to laugh once more as he helped him out.
"YOU MUPPET! I SAID, YOUR LEFT, NOT MINE!" yelled May.
"THEN BE MORE SPECIFIC NEXT TIME!" yelled Clarkson.
After completing their training session, May and Clarkson were conducting maintenance on the mech Beck had loaned them. Beck had rebuilt his Great RX-3, with better materials and tech. Only, instead of three smaller mechas combining into one, it was now one large mecha unit. But after May and Clarkson had got a hold of it, significant modifications had been made, with some of their personality quirks thrown into the mix.
For starters, "B" emblem in the chest had been replaced with "GT" in the front. Clarkson and May had wanted something to represent them, and they both settled on the title of their show. The coloring had been redone as well with most of the body covered in cobalt blue. The winglike appendages, which formed its boomerang sword, as well as similar colored areas, were now covered in a bright orange. The black and silver details had remained unchanged.
As for the weaponry systems, changes had been made as well to accommodate May and Clarkson. May, being the machinist, had changed his layout in the cockpit with better viewing and targeting systems. Yumi had wanted to make the changes a long time ago, but Beck wouldn't let her, stating that his genius was brilliant and on point. But May had liked the changes, and considering Clarkson's go-with-the-flow piloting skills, the changes were needed.
For Clarkson, he couldn't stand the layout of the piloting area. And so, a similar system to that of the Bigs had been hastily installed. Once installation was completed, Clarkson had a better time executing close range and long rang attacks with ease (May also chalked this up to having a better targeting system installed as well, but bringing this up would always result in an argument).
Now, Clarkson was checking over the movements on the mech, making sure its range of motion was operating at full capacity. Only the directions May was giving him were hard to hear at times.
"Moron," muttered Clarkson, as he tested his left on the mecha's arm and hand motions, "It only takes seconds to provide clarification…"
"THAT'S ENOUGH FOR TODAY DEARS!" called out Yumi, "YOUR RIDE IS HERE!"
Clarkson sighed and climbed out of the cockpit, walking over toward May as Yumi approached them.
"I can finish up the checks, though it seems you've done most of them. You two are really getting very good at this."
"Thank you Miss Yumi," said May, "Now, if only a certain muppet would listen to me…"
"I am listening to you, May. You're just not specific enough," said Clarkson, scowling, but then grinned. They all stopped to look at the mech.
"Have you thought of a name for it yet, considering all the changes you two made?" asked Yumi.
"Well, we thought about 'John,' but we already named one of our creations 'John,' so we're not sure what to name the big fellow exactly," said May.
"Kinda sounds plain to be honest, guys," said Yumi, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, what would you suggest dear?"
"As my husband likes to say, something legendary, but also fitting of you two. I mean, this is a big moment, so you might as well go all out. And then of course, there's the attacks too."
Clarkson held his chin for a moment. "What about the 'Giant Stig,' May?"
"He looks nothing like The Stig. Besides, it needs to be representative of all of us…"
"But we're the only two piloting it…"
"So? It has the Grand Tour logo on it. It has to representative of all of us, out of principle, even though the midget is not here…"
"Blimey, May, no need to get aggravated over it. Hmm…"
Clarkson thought long and hard for a while as did May. Finally, Clarkson broke the silence.
"How about 'Enoch?'"
Yumi and May looked at Clarkson, confused.
"'Enoch?'" asked Yumi, "What does that mean?"
"One who is dedicated to God," explained May, "But why that… Ohhhhh…"
It dawned on May the reason why Clarkson chose the name and Clarkson smirked.
"Sometimes, my genius," began Clarkson, as he turned around, walking toward the lift, "is almost terrifying…"
"Well, don't get used to it. You had one good idea out of how many bad ideas?"
"Oh, sod off, May!"
Yumi and May walked over to the lift as well. Yumi was grinning.
"I think it's a good name, just by hearing the meaning alone. Have you guys thought of pilot names for yourselves?" she asked as she made a note on her notepad.
"Good Lord, deary, how many names do you need?" asked May.
"Think of it as tradition. Once we input a name, no one else can take it and it's how we'll identify pilots for posterity. Our hope one day is that the SCA will be a beacon of hope that others can turns to for inspiration and learn from the lessons we've encountered over the years. That's why we give everyone a code name and we name the mechas."
May stepped inside along with Yumi, shutting the gate.
"Well, I'm normally called 'Captain Slow.' We normally call Jeremy, 'Jezza,' and Hammond… well, he's had a bunch over the years…"
"So, I've heard from my husband, Mr. May. But apparently, the nicknames my husband has been giving him… he hasn't like them too much."
The lift descended down to the main floor, where Roger and Hammond were waiting. Hammond was admiring May and Clarkson's handiwork.
"You did this all in two weeks? You've really outdone yourselves," said Hammond, impressed.
"Hammond, meet Enoch. Enoch, meet Hammond," said Clarkson, gesturing to the mecha.
"Enoch? That's an interesting name," said Roger.
"It means 'Dedicated to God,'" said Yumi, "And I think it's good fit."
"Well, considering what our mate is piloting, what you have termed, a 'God,' we both found it fitting. Though, I'll admit, it was Jezza who suggested it," said May, with a small smile.
"Jeremy actually had a brilliant idea for once? Well, all's not lost then," said Hammond, laughing.
"Bugger off, Hammond," muttered Clarkson, rolling his eyes, "We decided on it because you're piloting a 'God' and well, since you're our mate, we're dedicated to seeing this through to the end."
"Well, that's rather nice of you, Clarkson. It's a good idea and a good name."
"Yeah, it's the only two ideas you've agreed upon all this time! The first one being the emblem change on my mech!"
Beck stormed in, aggravated. Roger sighed and crossed his arms.
"Leave 'em be, Beck. What's got you all worked up?"
"Pops! Apparently, they have an idea where they base might be."
"And?"
"It's out in The Wastes. An old hangar. From the heat signature, they got a bunch of mechas, similar to my designs that I used for the MP ones. I have a leak in my own company!"
"Or someone could've figured it out by pictures or simply observing them, Beck. Rest assured, we'll get 'em."
"That isn't all that I'm worried about. Pops said there was a large heat signature that was matching the one I took of the portal we made. Like they had fired it up recently."
Roger's eyes narrowed.
"How recent?"
"At least within the past 72 hours. It takes forever for ours to cool, so, by that logic alone…"
Roger sighed, massaging his temple. "Then we need to act and fast." Roger turned to the trio.
"How comfortable are you guys with your piloting skills?" he asked them.
All three shrugged, alarmed by the news Beck had just disclosed.
"I guess, well, now, if we're needed," said Clarkson, looking at May and Hammond.
"Speak for yourself. I feel like I could use an extra 10 lessons in Big Duo, but I guess we're out of time," moped Hammond.
Roger sighed, clasping Hammond's shoulder. "You'll do fine. I guess well… let's head back to HQ, get something to eat, and discuss plans. I'm assuming Dastun is on his way over, Beck?"
Beck nodded.
"I'll drive myself. I'll see you in a few, Crow Boy."
Roger nodded as he made his way back to the Griffon, with the trio following him.
After a brief dinner at SCA HQ, we all sat down and discussed the raid. The Enoch mech would lead the charge against the New World Order's base while the MP provided support via tanks and mechas. The Knights would be on standby nearby, in case things got out of hand or in case if the other mech showed up from the other day. Beck decided to call it a "Gigadeus" considering it wasn't in any of the files we had found while raiding the remnants of the base from JFK Mark and considering it was larger and taller than Big Fau.
Dorothy was nervous, having brought the kids and Norman straight from the mansion. Norman would be providing assistance to me and Rich, seeing as Rich didn't have a machinist of his own, and would help Dorothy with her duties. Unlike the time when we faced Big Gamma, the uneasiness we felt was more daunting. I had more to fight and protect this time around.
But I couldn't imagine what my clients were going through. I finally convinced them to get some sleep before the raid at night. We hadn't practiced flying at night in Big Duo, but Hammond was convinced he could do it, though nervous at the same time. The other two, who according to Beck had been bickering all week, were now extremely quiet before they went off to the barracks to get some sleep themselves.
Only I remained awake. It's not the first time I had worked long hours. But to finally close my clients' case and see the possible end of the New World Order… I felt excited and anxious at the same time.
The trio were in the control room, as Dorothy and Yumi went over the details with their mechs one last time. They were still adjusting their suits and helmets when Roger and Beck walked in, having changed into their suits as well.
"Blimey, this is hard to adjust…" said Hammond, trying to adjust his helmet for a more snug fit. Dorothy gently smiled and took the helmet from Hammond, helping him adjust the strap.
"Try that, Rich. That should work," she said and handed the helmet back to him. Hammond put it on and fastened it.
"Well, snug as a bug!" He turned to his colleagues. "What do you think?"
"The world's tiniest man wearing a blue pilot suit that looks a little big on him, and a helmet, so he don't cwash," said Clarkson in a baby voice, "It's adorable."
Hammond scowled. "At least mine is reasonable! You got orange and you look utterly ridiculous in it."
"I'm fashionable, unlike you."
"Hmph!"
"Gents, it's a pilot suit. We're not wearing Gucci," said May, annoyed by his colleagues' behavior. He had chosen red for his color. Dorothy and Yumi giggled.
"I have no idea what a 'Gucci' is, but they're not meant to be fashionable. They're to protect you from any external factors like temperature, fire…" began Yumi.
"Oh good," interrupted May, "The midget needs all the protection from fire he can get."
"Bugger off, James!" moaned Hammond and the ladies giggled again.
"As I was saying, they also help protect somewhat against the physical forces experienced in the cockpit. Did you ever figure out your nicknames?" asked Yumi.
"Cocker Spaniel," said May, proudly, "It's been my nickname between these two, so I decided to make it official."
"'Cocker Spaniel?'" asked Beck, raising an eyebrow, "What the hell is that?"
"It's a type of dog. Though nearly extinct in our world," Roger added, noting May's confusion.
Beck shook his head. "And what about you?" he asked Clarkson.
"Hammer. Since it's the only bloody tool I'm good with," said Clarkson, rolling his eyes.
Beck sighed. "Well, that leaves you, Shortie. Did you come up with one or am I gonna have to call you Shortie for this entire time?"
"NO! WILL YOU STOP CALLING ME THAT!" bellowed Hammond, as everyone around him laughed. Hammond shook his head, then offered a wry smile.
"Alright, let's head out! Rich, you'll be air lifting me and Big O to the site. Big Fau will head out via the sea. Jeremy, James, Dastun will providing you guys and Enoch a lift via one of the MP carriers," said Roger, offering his helmet in the middle. Hammond hastily took his off, realizing what Roger was doing as Beck put his helmet in the center. Clarkson and May put theirs in the middle as well, followed by Hammond.
"We're all coming home and/or going home. Breakfast and drinks are on me if you don't crash, Rich," said Roger, with a coy smile.
Everyone nodded and then put their helmets on, heading out on the catwalk.