Xaviers!

The battered car violently contracts into a blob that expands back into Robin who looks a little roughed up. Tips of her hair are singed and there's some soot on her. "Thanks for bringing me a helmet, but I don't really need it." she tells the man approaching her, well aware of the actual implication.

"You'll never pass inspection like that," the man said, frowning at her.

He had a British accent and a classic, British mustache. And he spoke with the inflection that Robin might be familiar with from prior Danger Room practice; an NPC programmed with a limited range of emotional responses and whatnot. A simulation, and one that it would be difficult to reason with.

"And you better have a really good reason for me to let you drive me, cause I'm not the kind to open my hood for just anybody."

"I'm the driver. You're the car. Race rules require a car and driver for competitive balance," the man blankly explained. "A matter of weight and such."

"Oh, that's alright then. You can be dead weight." she says with a smirk before expanding into a pink rally car minus a steering wheel or pedals.

"That's not going to be acceptable," the driver said. "I am the driver. I need to be in control to drive. The standards and specifications are very clear on this."

"You really don't. You get to ride, but you're not gonna steer. This car drives itself." the radio squawks and the engine starts itself.

The driver frowned, and then walked around to the front of Robin, reaching down and popping her hood release.

"Buy a girl a drink first!" Robin jokingly complains as her hood pops open to reveal Robin's vague idea of a car, which is to say a bunch of pipes and valves and pistons that only vague map to a real engine.

"This does not meet official race specifications.," the man said, poking at a few of the pipes. "Would you like assistance meeting those requirements."

"It's a custom build. Don't fiddle with it, I got it the way I like it."

"Then I'm afraid you will be disqualified."

He slammed Robin's hood shut, and bent down to apply a sticker over her grill, as the race next to them began.

"That's fine, I'm just here to have fun, not win anything." she says, chassis suddenly jumping up a couple feet as the wheel suspension grows into extendo-'legs' and she rushes off, over the driver and after the cars already ahead of her.

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Warning: Current activity will result in test failure.  Return to the start line.

The other racers on the track started trying to box Robin in, but they couldn't exactly step over her.

Robin hops and then withdraws the tires back into their regular configuration as she sails over the car in front of her and lands with a loud thunk and a whole bunch of sparks, followed by a cheerful "Woooo!" from Robin.

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Return to the start line.  Return to the start line.  Return to the start line.

"Miss Stanton," Lippencott's voice came over the intercom. "You have more than proven your point."


The other cars were on Robin's tail, and they began to speed up - faster than they were going beforehand, at any rate, when they already seemed to be at top speed.

"Okay great, then the rest can just be for fun!" Robin laughs as she goes into the upcoming curve with screeching tires.

"The danger room is not supposed to be used for fun, Miss Stanton."

Could a voice frown?

Two cars zoomed up, trying to get on either side of Robin. One took a high, arcing path above Robin on the banked turn; the other cut across some of the infield grass on it's way to box her in again.

"You could not be more wrong, mister head-master, sir." Robin laughs. And then let's the curve help her in carrying her towards the out car, aiming to ram the side of herself right into him.

"Miss Stanton, if you do not come to a stop, you will slam into the wall when the simulation ends. It's designed for dealing with human speeds, not automotive speeds."

Robin slammed into the car next to her, causing it to ride up the track and slam into the wall. Extra destruction points, even if that one might cause her rear right body panel to ache in the morning.

"Hmm? You can't turn it off as long as I'm doing this? Sounds like the premise of that movie. What was it... The Bus That Couldn't Slow Down?" Robin grins to herself as she wobbles on the track, wheels scramlbing like feet might for a moment to right herself and speed out of the curve and into the straight.

"You're bound to run out of gas sooner or later; and I can't imagine that's particularly comfortable."

The car that had tried to come all up on her inside was streaking behind her, trying to bump into her back panels and spin her out. Dangerous driving!

Robin's about to say something smart-ass when she gets shoved and loses enough traction to start spinning and careening towards the inside of the circuit with smoking tires.

"Uh-oh, spaghetti-o." she manages just in time before she hits the grass with both right-side tires and immediately is flipped into the air.

Lippencott winced in the booth as Robin went flying into the air.

"You know, a professional driver may have been able to recover from that," he pointed out, as Robin flipped.

Robin finally splats to the ground in human shape after tumbling a couple times and while she seems okay physically she looks rather green around the gills.

"Would been fine if you hadn't distracted me..." she makes a token objection.

"You're right; you aren't your father. You have the exact opposite problems," Lippencott noted.

Robin, still lieing on the ground, raises one arm into the air to give Lippencott a thumbs-up.