Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he strode down the long desolate drive. The sound was as clear as it ever had been. At the end of his rocky road of Dorian gray stones lay an oversized shed.

With another deep inhale, Marcus helped himself to the countryside air, knowing full well it might be the last breath of it. Easing into an exasperated sigh he, the sixteen-year-old reached for the lever on the massive French doors. Just as he began to step into its shadow, something pulled him from the blackness back into a world that existed outside his memories.

"You day dreaming, kid?" someone called out from behind him.

"No sir," came his response as he locked the industrial grade dishwasher into place.

Before the man could even question him, Marcus had flipped the switch and in a matter of seconds the air was filled with the humming's of jets of water and whirring pumps. A far cry from the ocean, but strangely reminiscent.

"Funny," his boss shouted over the noise, "looked an awful lot to me like I was paying you to stand there and do nothing."

"You pay people while they're on their smoke breaks," he commented back.

"Law says I got to do that. Doesn't say Jack about having to indulge whatever fantasies are going on up here," the man said as he prodded the kid's temple with a finger.

"I guess I'll just have to take it up then," Marcus proclaimed as he reached into his manager's breast pocket and procured a cigarette.

"You can't just do that to get a break."

"Sure I can," Marcus replied as he walked towards the back door. "It's like you said, the lays you got to."

He could feel the man's eyes burning into the back of his skull as he stepped out into the alley way. Capital city was nothing like where he grew up. It was fifthly, gritty, and everything wrong with the world, which was perhaps why he loved it so much.

Because his boss was watching so closely, Marcus made the grand gesture of asking one of his colleagues for a light. Without so much as a glance one of them thrust the flame of his lighter in his direction.

The small drag he took was nothing more than illusion to create the effect he was in fact smoking. Marcus had no desire to do so, but if it got him out of the hot and cramped quarters of the hotel kitchen, then so be it.

Washing dishes wasn't what he had in mind for himself, but his decision making up to this point had been a bit rash. Even he was willing to admit that now. Things were not nearly as easy as they seemed, and making it big time in the city was perhaps not as straight forward as he had assumed. However, giving up on being his own man wasn't something he was willing to to do just yet. Marcus would die rather than endure the smug look of everyone who would tell him 'I told you so'.

"Ten minutes," his manager mouthed through the safety glass on the door.

Marcus shrugged him off. Jobs like this were a dime a dozen and didn't pay enough to live in the city anyway. Losing it was the least of his concern. Instead he focused on how best to fake smoking as he clung to the filter with the edge of his lips. It was surprisingly hard to do over the ruckus of the nearby banter in a language he didn't understand. However, their intermittent laughter finally pried his attention away. Following the gaze of the three bellhops he found their source of amusement.

Some poor sod was trying rather unsuccessfully to back a town car out of one of the many garages that lined the alley. What should have been easy, this man was making look especially difficult. It wasn't challenging find the humor in this, especially after the driver manager to scrape the bumper along the wall.

Marcus watched with interest as a gray-haired man got out of the back. His stride conveyed his annoyance with a sharp snap in his heels. Knocking on the window the well-dressed man waited until the driver rolled it down.

"Get out," was all the old man managed.

His driver hesitated, attempting to apologize.

"Get out," the man demanded again, "so I can find someone who hasn't spent the day drinking."

Based on the driver's performance that wasn't a stretch. There was enough room in this alley for two cars to pass each other in most places, never mind preform basic maneuvers.

Reluctantly the driver removed himself from the vehicle, a downtrodden look strewn across his face.

"Have a seat in back Hairy," the man demanded. "We can have a discussion about your continued employment just as soon as I find us a new driver."

Turning, the old man locked eyes with anyone who would meet his gaze.

"You lot laughing it up over there, any of you know how to drive?"

The question seemed to shut up Marcus' comrades. In fact, they immediately found other places to be and things to do. He had never seen them so eager to return to work. Moments later Marcus found himself sitting outside all alone on his first smoke break, or well almost alone.

"What about you, kid?" the man sighed reluctantly. "I mean you barely look old enough to have a license, but I'm in a bit of a jam."

Marcus flicked his cigarette into the gutter and hopped to his feet before meeting the man's eyes. The others seemed afraid of him but he had the luxury of not knowing any better.

"So what is it, kid? Do you know how to drive? Yes or no?"

"Mobians have tails?" Marcus answered snidely as he strolled past the man and peered inside the driver seat.

It was a pretty sweet ride as far as things went. It was an older model town car, but it wasn't hard to tell there was a V8 under the hood. It may have been designed for comfort, but Marcus knew this thing would move if it had to.

"Marcus," the kitchen boss shouted, "what did I say about ten minutes?"

He shrugged again before getting in the driver seat and shutting the door.

The man's insults grew dull now that he was on the inside what had to be the most soundproof car he had ever experienced.

Before the passenger door snapped shut behind him the old man was already barking orders at him, "We're already late and I need to be at 6th and Spur in 10 minutes."

Marcus nodded. It wouldn't be easy, but it was possible. Putting the car in gear he quickly corrected his predecessors mistakes.

"And because you're new, I'll let you in on a secret," the man laughed to himself, "the driver usually ensures his client is seated and comfortable before seating himself."

He smiled a big smile at the rearview mirror hoping the man would see it. Marcus wasn't a driver… or well at least not this kind, but it sure beat the hell out of washing dishes.

In a manner, not so different than home, Marcus was treating red lights as mere suggestions as opposed to law. It made traversing the twenty-five city blocks considerably easier this time of night. Of course, there were no shortage horns, but that came with the territory of driving like you owned the city.

"Hairy," the old man began after a long bout of silence had stewed in the car. "In a few minutes I'm going to get out of this car so I can attend a very important meeting, and after that I never want to see you again. Am I clear?"

Marcus watched as the man he now suspected was Hairy nod vigorously.

"I'm not one to forget loyalty or service, but I won't tolerate your personal problems getting in the way of my aspirations. You've been a good driver, dare I say it a friend, but that ends tonight. If I tolerate this behavior any longer it's going to get one us killed."

"Thank you, sir." The man replied somberly.

Who is this guy? Marcus asked himself. And is he threatening to kill this guy?

"Good, I'm glad we could come to an understanding. And as for you young man, was that your boss you were running from back there?"

Marcus nodded.

"Do you always run from a fight?" the gray-haired man asked.

"A fight?" the kid laughed, "No, just annoying people."

To his surprise, the old man chuckled almost uncontrollably before replying, "I'll keep that in mind."

A few more moments of silence passed between them before he continued, "If you do well you won't have to worry about him when you get back."

Marcus immediately felt a wave of trepidation pass over him, what does he mean I won't have to worry about him? What's he going to do to my boss?

"Park right out front," his passenger requested sternly.

"It's a fire lane," he pointed out, "I can't stay there."

The man began to laugh again, "you'll be fine," he assured him through a chuckle.

When he pulled to a stop his passenger cleared his throat rather loudly after a few moments of inactivity.

It took Marcus a moment to put things together. Doing his best to hold back a sigh, he unfastened his seat belt and got out. There was no question this was an odd sight to behold. A teenager wearing a dirty apron parked in a fire lane was opening the door for a man four times his senior wearing a three-piece English suit in one of the most glamorous parts of town. The juxtaposition of everything was surreal.

"That'a boy," he smiled before turning to face the other passenger. "Have a good night Hairy."

"You as well, sir."

With that, the two men parted ways, leaving Marucs alone holding a door open to an empty car. This night is past weird, he deiced before shutting the door and returning to the driver seat.

It was dull sitting there on his own, made even worse by the fact he had no idea if he was getting paid for this. The radio presets were past lame ranging from late night talk shows to smooth jazz and he couldn't be bothered to scrub through the channels to find something he liked. Instead Marcus opted to suffer in silence as he watched the traffic float by, or almost all the traffic.

Just as he suspected one of Capital City's finest pulled up behind him. A uniformed officer stepped out of his cruiser and approached. The copper appeared surprised to see a kid sitting in the front seat but tapped his knuckle on the window all the same.

Reluctantly Marcus found the button and rolled down the window, "look officer," he began, but the man cut him off.

"Where's Hairy?"

Marcus was stunned and the look on his face probably said as much. Glancing to the back where the man was sitting only twenty minutes ago and back to the officer he answered, "well… he uhh… I guess he got fired?"

The officer nodded, "Makes sense. Poor guy. It was only a matter of time with his drinking problem. Although you can't really blame him after what happened to his family, you know?"

Marcus just nodded, more confused than ever as to what was going on here.

"So, you his replacement?"

"I… yeah… maybe…. I just kind of got roped into this."

"That's how it works with Nagus. One minute you're no one, next minute you're still no one but with a much larger pay check. He sees things in people that they don't see in themselves."

That was a lot to unpack for the kid. First was the name Nagus. He had been living in the city long enough to hear of him and know of the man and what he was. Marcus was starting to understand why all his colleagues bowed out so quickly. Rumor had it the crime lord was ruthless with a capital 'r'. And that certainly helped explain a lot of the conversation that had occurred in the car. What he had imagined was a threat was indeed a threat. Marcus gulped. He had just become the impromptu driver of the most well-known crime lord in the world? To make matters worse was talking to an officer of the law while in the driver seat of his car.

What could go wrong?

The paycheck however, gave him some optimism. The copper had mentioned a payday, and that was what lured Marcus to city after all. A chance to make a name for himself, to prove he didn't need his family to be someone.

"What's he see in you? Marcus asked out of genuine curiosity.

He could only assume this copper was on Nagus' payroll. Why else would he know his driver by name and check up on him?

"Loyalty maybe," the officer answered mulling the question over, "or rather lack thereof in my case," he laughed. "There's something captivating about him… and well the fear. Once you're in bed with him, there's no leaving, so buckle up kid," the copper answered before tapping the roof of the car loudly and walking away.

For the better part of the next hour Marcus fought the urge to take a nap by memorizing down to the second the light pattern of the intersection in front of him. However, just as the cross street light was about to turn green a rather audible argument broke out in the Blue Oyster. It was an upscale place, the kind that required even their dishwashers to have at least five years of experience, the kind that the crime bosses of the world because they knew the guy that owned it and maybe even did him a favor once upon a time.

Marcus could see some silhouettes arguing on the other side of the glass. The candle lit room was hard to peer into, even at night. But what was unmistakable was the sound of gunshots and screams. In a matter of seconds the restaurant began to clear and one of the first ones out the door was Nagus.

Marcus made an effort to try and get to his door before the old man, but he was having none of it, "not now, someone is trying to kill me."

Of course they are.

Marcus let the man tend to himself as he assumed what appeared to be his new role of getaway driver. He would have been lying if he hadn't day dreamed about it more than a handful of times, but now that the moment was hear he wasn't sure he was ready for it.

"Did you not hear me?" the old man yelled, "Our President is trying to kill me. If you wouldn't mind…"

Reaching for the shifter, Marcus tried to ignore the bit about the President trying to kill his first client.

Of course Nagus would be dinning with the President. Their new and rather rotund leader was vocal to say the least. But why is he trying to kill you… in public?

Marcus tossed it into drive and planted his foot, racing for the intersection. The light would be green in three seconds, not that he cared one way or the other.

"Where to?" he asked nervously.

"You can start by losing the people following us."

Glancing at his mirror it wasn't difficult to spot that two sedans following them.

"Those are Tadis," Marcus lamented. "Even if they're bad drivers it's going to be tough to lose those. I mean those things have like 600 horse power."

"What's your name kid?"

It was odd he hadn't thought to ask up until now, but then again, the entire night was the very definition of odd.

"Marcus."

"Well Marcus, I don't recall asking your opinion on whether you could lose the people chasing us. I only recall telling you to lose them."

He was starting to see why people both respected and feared this man. He didn't mince words.

"You might want to buckle up…"

Fate was an odd thing. How had he landed in this seat at this moment?

Inhaling deeply, Marcus let his instincts take over. Ripping the wheel to the left he careened down a small street weaving through the tightly packed traffic with the precision of a world class racer. Even as he stared down a red light, the kid didn't blink as he passed through the opposing traffic unscathed.

Just as he suspected, the car moved. It's V8 worked as advertised humming beautifully as it propelled them down one of the cities boulevards. Looking at his mirrors he could see the subtly curved headlights of his pursuers.

"Not bad," Marcus whispered to them, "but about this?"

The kid slammed on his breaks and rammed the shifter into reverse before thrashing the gas pedal again. In a matter of seconds, they were going backwards, and fast.

"What in the hell are you doing?" the man in back screamed.

Marcus ignored him as he zeroed in on his target. It was a simple game of chicken.

They always swerve in the movies.

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry when not just one but both Tadis swerved to avoid him at the last possible moment. Ceasing on his success Marcus spun the car around in the most violent reverse one eighty he had ever performed. His passenger, having not headed his advice to buckle up, thrashed about in the back as he struggled to stay in an upright and seated position.

Back in drive he opened the car all the way up, generating as much of a lead as he could. It took them a rather long time to turn around in the congested streets, which bought him enough time to turn down an alley and then back onto another street where he again planted the pedal to the floor. When he felt he had built up enough speed Marcus killed the ignition and coasted on the remaining speed, weaving himself into the busiest traffic he could find.

"You can't possibly be considering stopping here."

Marcus knew by now it wasn't a question, but he didn't care. He was good at this and had spent plenty of his summers losing the local coppers in stolen cars.

"Just stay down," Marcus snapped back.

Nagus relented and ducked low just as the two Tadis tore past them in the bus lane.

Those idiots were looking for his tail lights, but with the car off and costing in the nearly stopped traffic they would fly past him without a second thought until they latched onto some other poor saps car that just happened to look like his. Marcus wished he had this type of traffic back home, it made disappearing into a crowed a lot easier.

"They're gone?" came a question.

"Seems that way."

"Good. Then we'll still have time to run some errands."

"Errands?" the kid asked as he started the car back up.

The man nodded.

"And as for you," he continued, "no more lying."

Marcus stared at the man through the mirror confused.

"When I asked you if you could driver why wasn't your answer that you would be the best damn driver I will ever see?"

"Why say it when you'll say it for me?" the kid grinned.

The man laughed through his accent, "you're an odd one, Marcus."

He wanted to perceive that as a compliment but wasn't sure one way other. To keep up their charade Marcus followed the flow of traffic just in case a Tadi circled back around. Running was the easiest way to be spotted. It was the equivalent of admitting guilt.

"I can't believe that bastard tried to kill me again?"

"Sounds like a nice guy."

"He's a fat tub of lard is what he is."

"How was your dinner?" Marcus changed the subject, asking the question he imagined drivers asked of their clients.

"Still the best place in town, but then again I own it, so I might be a bit biased."

"I doubt that. I've heard plenty of people who would agree."

"You don't need to flatter me."

"Not trying to, just speaking my mind."

Nagus snorted, "that's almost refreshing."

"Glad you think so, sir."

"A bit thick now don't you think?"

"Maybe," Marcus agreed. "But I mean you get to dine with the President."

"Believe me, Kintobor is more of a crook than I am, and that's saying something."

"Is that why he tried to kill you?"

Nagus laughed, "I suppose, although he would never admit to it. I'm sure whoever he hired this time has a colorful past that is related to everyone and everything but him. But that's why I had one my best watching the place tonight. They know how to read a room and spot the bullshit that doesn't belong."

This was night like every spy movie Marcus had watched rolled up into one, the only difference was he was living it. But wait… what side am I on if I'm driving around a bad guy?

"Speaking of which, I would like you to stop and pick her up."

"Her?" Marcus asked somewhat surprised.

The man nodded. She's not one to trifle with. Has a deeper hatred for Kintobor than I do."

Nagus sure knows a lot of nice people, the kid joked to himself.

"Pull over here."

Without hesitation Marcus worked his way to the curb and put the car in park.

There was a brief interlude of an unmuted city and a rush of stale urine stained air interrupted his thoughts as one of the back doors opened. Marcus didn't pay his newest passenger much mind. Her features were hidden in a reddish shadow that seemed to meld into the black leather.

"Fiona, Marcus, Marcus, Fiona," the old man said as if out of requirement.

She nodded in his direction and he hers.

"Now if you wouldn't mind, please take me home."

"Of course," he responded before adding, "where's home?"

"Out in Kings. Chester St."

It was a thirty-minute drive, even at this time of night.

"So… Fiona," Marcus began trying to entertain his newest rider, "uhhh what do you do?"

It was a dumb question considering Nagus had just told her exactly what she did.

An exceptionally young voice responded, but not to him, "He's new huh?"

"Found him just in a nick of time. Hairy wouldn't have gotten me through this tight spot, but this lad seems to know his way around the wheel."

"Do you trust him?" she asked as if he weren't sitting in front of her.

She sounded no more than a year older than he was. How did a girl get caught up in this? Then again, he could ask the same of himself.

"As much as I trust anyone else."

Marcus took that to mean the old man trusted no one.

"You don't sound very old to be…" the kid began.

"To be what?" she snapped back. "And you don't seem much older…"

"Seventeen" he answered unfazed and somewhat proud.

"Good for you, you're not the youngest one in the car by a whole year."

"And you can do math."

"Children," Nagus sighed. "Please. You're professionals, act like it."

Marcus hadn't thought of himself as a professional of anything, but he wasn't one to turn away a comment, even a back handed one.

"Sorry, boss," the girl responded.

Marcus was chuckling to himself as he tried to figure her out. There was a distinct charisma to her, an unwavering confidence combined with something deeper and more fragile. She was different than most girls his age, the kind he might actually want to spend time with. Unlike all the other city girls, she wasn't predisposed with trivial social problems, instead she was living a very real life. Marcus had already decided long ago that he was not into high maintenance anything. Who ever was in the back seat was not only capable of teasing him back, but taking care of themselves.

What little light the darker alleys offered were unable to help him decipher if the girl's looks matched her rather mysterious personality. He traced the shape of her body from her hips all the way to her long flowing red hair. Marcus was finding it harder and hard to keep his eyes from exploring her instead of the road.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I don't run into a lot of girls like you," he replied plainly.

A grin found it's way up her face as she began to wag her tail.

She has a tail! Marcus nearly screamed before accidentally tapping the breaks much harder than he intended.

"You look surprised," she commented.

That was an understatement.

"I just thought you were…"

"Human?" she suggested.

Marcus nodded.

"You're all the same," the Mobian muttered under her breath.

It had been a long time since he had seen a Mobian. They were common further outside the city, but only the rural parts away from the wealthier suburbs he had grown up in. Marcus was as curious as he was shocked that Nagus had referred to her as one of his best. The fact that she was younger than him and shorter by over a foot made her a questionable choice for an enforcer. Being a Mobian must have either made up for a lot of that or only complicated things further, and at this point Marcus was too afraid to ask.

"I just pictured someone a little different when Nagus mentioned he had some of his best mussel watching the place. No offense or anything."

Her glare softened a bit as she spared a glance at her box to see if he would contradict the statement.

"Don't let it go to your head," he conceded. "I trust you to get jobs like these done, and you do. Just don't go disappointing me."

"Wouldn't dream of it, boss," she grinned, letting a gleaming white canine hang over her bottom lip.

In the long silence that followed Marcus fought off exhaustion the way one does a kitten. It wasn't difficult but its sharp teeth and claws were annoying. His mind had fully assumed his role, on an ever-vigilant lookout for anyone or anything that might do the three of them any harm. The kid realized he had managed to wrap himself up in something quite a bit bigger than he intended, and with it came the responsibility of making sure he lived long enough to see whatever rewards may come from it.

What he now suspected was a wolf seemed equally concerned. Her eyes darted to and from his mirrors scanning the surrounding for tails that didn't belong to her. If he didn't know better the Mobian could see through the back of her head.

"Just here, my lad," the man said pointing over his shoulder.

Marcus slowed the car to a stop and put it in park. He did not need to be reminded a second time of his duties. Promptly the kid scrambled from his spot in the driver seat and opened the door for the old man.

"A quick learner," Nagus laughed. "Now, as for the morning… I expect you here not a minute later than 7:30. Do I make myself clear?"

Is this my job now?

"You look confused, my boy. Did you not think you passed your interview?"

"I didn't know I had one."

"Tomorrow," the man said before turning to leave. "7:30."

"Of course, sir."

And like that the man disappeared into the night leaving Marcus to wonder why he felt compelled to go through with this. In the course of a couple of hours he had gone from being a nobody dish washer to the driver of the most notorious crime lord in the city.

"He likes you," a voice said cooly right into his ear, startling him to the point he nearly screamed.

"Man, you're quiet," Marcus said loudly in place of yelp, trying to hide the hair on his arms standing on end.

Turning to meet her gaze he finally got a chance to take in her full form. The pointy ears he had spied through his rear view mirror in fact belonged to a fox, which made sense given her smaller stature. The vixen's tail was among the bushiest he had ever seen in his life, its fur doused in a crimson that could have been blood. The rest of her was concealed beneath black leather and denim.

Why couldn't you be human, the kid lamented to himself.

"Comes with the territory," she responded circling him slowly, sizing him up. "Why are you afraid of me?"

You're a hired hitman…? hitwoman…? hitmobian?

"I'm not," he insisted despite the fact he was.

Not only was she a Mobian, she had earned Nagus' trust for doing all sorts work that he thought best not to ask about.

"Your heart rate says otherwise."

How can she possibly hear that?

"You can't just go sneaking up on people, you might startle them."

The fox shrugged unconcerned, "I sneak up on people all the time."

This was a game to her, but Marcus didn't know the rules.

"Why does he like you so much?" she pressed. "I've never seen him like that with anyone, take to them so quickly."

"What about you? He seems pretty nice to you too."

"I'm just someone he calls when he needs things done."

"Then it seems we are now the same," Marcus answered before getting back into the driver seat of his car and snapping the door shut.

The fox intrigued him, but he didn't have time for this. Right now he wanted to get some sleep so he could try an pretend to be awake when he arrived tomorrow morning.

"I don't think we're all that much alike," she answered. "I'm a Mobian, remember?"

Somehow the fox was already sitting in the passenger seat.

"Okay, how the hell did you do that?"

I'm starting to understand why she might be good at her job.

"Do what?"

She hasn't answered a question all night, Marcus. Why did you think she would start now? She's a teenager, like you, and she's a Mobian. A stubborn combination if their ever were one.

"Never mind. What do you want?"

Everyone wants something.

"A ride."

Marcus sighed before letting his forehead hit the steering wheel, "I'm not even sure if I'm allowed to say no to you."

Fiona smiled, "you could try."

This is a little side project I started to help keep my interest in this series up. No idea what I'm going to do with it yet. All of it will be told through Marcus' perspective.

M.D.