Crash Course Kaleidoscope – Prologue

I could hear them, inside. They were screaming at each other again. Something smashed, but I didn't care. I was used to it by now. I just lent back against the worn wood and took a long drag of my cigarette. The kitchen window smashed, the glass raining down on the dead grass, a frying pan thudding dully against the earth. I sighed and stood up; climbing down from the tree house where I'd spent my entire childhood. I needed to fix something. I needed to feel an engine beneath my hands, smell the grease in the air. I needed my 'garage'. I didn't look back at the house as I walked away into the night, tuning out my parents' fighting and breathing in the cancerous smoke.

I wasn't really surprised to see an electric blue and lime green Nissan waiting for me when I arrived 15 minutes later. My parents had always hated anything to do with mechanics – hell, the dickheads didn't even own a car! – so I knew they'd kill me if they ever found me with my head in the bonnet and grease on my hands. But I couldn't help, even when I was little. Machines just sing to me. Cid says I have a rare gift, one that I should never give up on. I used to hang out at his garage all the time, even learnt some stuff. Eventually he got sick of me hovering over his shoulder and gave me the abandoned underground parking lot at the back of the building. Said I was crowding up his garage, so I may as well have my own. It's nothing flashy, but it's perfect for me. It also means I can service my… customers without worrying about the police, seeing as it's on Cid's land. You see, my 'customers' all happen to be street racers. Out-of-towners never suspect quiet little Twilight Town to have gangs and street races, but we give fucking Hollow Bastion a run for its money.

As I approached, Siefer and Rai got out of the car and came to meet me as I unlocked the roller door leading to the ramp.

"What'd ya do this time?" I asked, heading down into the dark. I reached into the toll booth and slapped the light switch, waiting for the fluorescents to flicker on before turning to face the other blonde.

Siefer shrugged. "She's been grindin' since the last race. You got a light?"

I threw him my Zippo, nodding towards Rai, who was staring at a puddle of oil, probably admiring the rainbow the light made in it. "Tell Godzilla to bring her in, but I swear to God, if he hits my shit again, I'm chargin' double upfront."

Siefer's eyes tightened, but he chucked my lighter back and clicked at Rai, making him jump.

When the car was in place, thankfully without hitting anything, I popped the hood, immediately spotting the problem.

"Jesus fucking Christ, where the fuck were you racin'?"

There was sand EVERYWHERE. It was caked on every possible surface and had no doubt gotten in the carburettor and probably the engine itself. I also had a feeling it'd gotten between the clutch blades and probably fucked 'em up pretty bad.

"You're one lucky son of a whore, y'know that? She shouldn't even be turning over."

Siefer rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but can you fix it?"

I scoffed, "Course I can."

We looked at each other expectantly for a minute before I shook my head.

"You know how it is, Siefer. Half now, the rest when she's fixed."

The blonde sighed but reached into the glove box, pulling out an envelope and handing it to me. I opened it and quickly ran my eyes over the notes inside, counting. It all added up.

I nodded. "She'll be ready same time tomorrow."

I held out my hand and he grasped my forearm, my fingers curling around his in return.

"She fuckin' better be."

I watched them leave, shaking my head. They were gonna make me a millionaire. Siefer's gang was one of the biggest, most dangerous gangs in the state, and had some of the most talented racers in the country, but they fucked their cars up so often it wasn't funny. I got 500 grand one week, just from servicing them. I do have other clients – other gangs, friends, guys in the black market (although they usually get a pretty big discount considering they supply me with any parts I can't get from Cid), generally people who are 'bad' in the eyes of society. But I don't give a shit, the pay is fuckin' brilliant.

I looked back toward the Nissan and sighed. 'Pay might be good but that don't mean the work's easy.' I was gonna have to dismantle it all, clean it, probably replace the clutch and break plates, the carburettor and God knows what else, and put it all back together in 24 hours. A smile crept over my face as I stuffed the money in my pocket and grabbed my headphones, settling them over my ears and pressing play, letting the sounds of Slipknot scream into my skull as I set to work.