Chapter Text
Hey, guys! So this is going to be a real-world AU Ace Combat fic. No dogfights, but still alot of our favorite new Ace Combat characters. Allons-y!
Being an Owner/Driver Team is tough at any level in Motorsports. In the NASCAR Cup Series, it's damn near impossible. Jason Briggs still did it though. If you asked just about any driver in the garage, he zhad all the tools and talent to be a championship-caliber driver. There was just one problem: His pit crew lacked a proper leader. His crew chief was always full of excuses, and it was widely believed that he couldn't tell a Supercharged Engine from a lug nut. His favorite phrase seemed to be, "We'll get 'em next time."
Pocono Raceway
June 27th, 2021
Today seemed like it was going to be the day. Briggs had his #15 United States Air Force Chevrolet out to a commanding lead when a Caution flag came out with five laps remaining.
"Back 'er down," his spotter said over the radio. "We got a wreck coming out of Turn One."
"Who's in it?" Briggs radioed back.
"18 and 23 got together and collected about six more cars."
"23 in a wreck? That figures." Briggs looked at his gauges and whistled. "I'm coming in when they open Pit Road."
"Negative." Oh, great. Crew chief decided to chime in. "Not one team in contention for this thing is gonna sacrifice track position to pit."
"You better be right," Briggs growled. As soon as he finished his sentence, half of the cars behind him began pulling off onto Pit Road. "Motherfucker."
The Green Flag waved with two laps remaining. Briggs put his foot down on the gas and started to pull away from the few other drivers that had stayed out. He cleared the first two turns and put more distance between himself and second place. As he entered turn three, he started to feel optimistic about his chances of winning.
He took the White Flag and zoomed into turn one. His car started to sputter. Almost out of gas. He hit the straightaway and began swerving back and forth, trying to get any remaining fuel moving to his engine. It wasn't working.
"I'm almost out of gas," he radioed, pulling into turn three. "I don't think I'll make it to the line."
"34 Car is coming up fast," his spotter said. "Now would be a good time to boogie."
As soon as Briggs cleared the turn, his car sputtered and died. Completely out of gas. He pulled the car onto the bottom of the track and let it coast. He crossed the finish line 15th before completely stalling out and tearing down his window net. He was pissed. Just when he thought it couldn't get worse, a voice came over his radio.
"Don't worry about it, driver. We'll get 'em next time."
Briggs couldn't hold his tongue. Keying the radio, he snapped, "Shut the fuck up. You and I are going to have a long talk when I get back to the garage."
A wrecker finally made its way to him, pushing him to the garage area. He had just climbed out of his car when a reporter caught up with him.
"Jason Briggs, this one had to hurt. I just want to get your thoughts on what happened. Why didn't you pit with the rest of the leaders?"
Briggs had a look of stone on his face. "My thoughts, Kelli? Here we go. I started this team with my own two hands and little-to-no financial backing from anyone. I employ only U.S. Military Veterans to work on these cars. I come to the track every weekend to win. As to why I stayed out, that falls solely on my Crew Chief. He made that decision. So, right now, I'm going to make a decision. Effective immediately, Strider Motorsports is looking for a new Crew Chief for the #15 United States Air Force Chevrolet. Daryl McKinsey is fired."
And he walked away from Kelli the Reporter, leaving her with a perplexed look on her face.
And that's Chapter One. Be sure to "Follow" and "Favorite" this story if you like it, and don't forget to leave a review.