For Luv2Game who is an awesome beta and an awesome friend. I hope it's up to your expectations. Enjoy.
I have to admit, I was tempted to bite my screen a few times with all the fun I was having with Razer. And Cutter? Oh, boy, Cutter. You have fallen into the wrong writer's hands…
Royal Flush
"Precursors. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear the Bloody Hook has resorted to filling their barrels with muskrat stew rather than quality ale days- though there isn't much of a difference…"
Rayn Krew entered the Bloody hook, wearing her brass on her perfectly ironed cuffs and without the suited up tyrants she hired for protection. They'd normally be latched by their shoulder blades to hers at all times of the day with compact beam reflexors strapped to their belts, ready to gyrate on their thick thumbs the moment danger tempted them.
Clicking her heels toward the bar and ready to order a little shot of Wastelander's brew- one of the popular mixtures that all the racers seemed to rave about, the Crime Lord caught sight of a rather rowdy game of cards taking place in a corner table. Judging by the reserved laughter humming from beneath the steady stream of smoke, the center of attention could be none other than the retired racer, Razer.
Now standing with her fingers smudging against the mahogany counter, she realized the lack of service and quickly called for it.
"Who's the bloody bampot that owns this place? What's a woman have to do to wave down a drink these days?"
Noting that there was no response, the Crime Lord pushed on her palms to peek behind the bar, only to find the rather bloated, one eyed, and bald bartender snoozing away against the shelves.
"Caned…"
Frustrated, the woman spun around, leaning on her elbows to observe the scene across the room. The excitement from the Last Grand Prix had worn off, and ever since she'd taken over Kras months ago, without the controversy that the Haven crew originally stirred up in the previous series, the sport had somewhat died down. After reorganizing and gathering her bundle of assets and useful racers, some ex- Mizo goons, the woman presently passed the time with a felt tip pen to mounds of paper as she watched the television with nonchalance.
Rayn Krew was- well, to put it frankly, bored.
There were still the usual accidents out on the tracks -- an explosion here and there, an eco spill around a corner, but nonetheless, it was nothing like a man valuing his pride like a samurai would a sword, with a competitor who was simply driven on an instinct to survive. Two alpha males, burning rubber against hardened roads and callous weather conditions, with an instinct to survive or kill.
That's what was wrong with the sport these days. There was no fire. No animal instinct. No malicious intent.
Compared to the raging, bloodthirsty beasts last season, the racers she was handing paychecks to were practically purring through the events. If she hadn't known any better, she would assume that the right caress over their fenders would make the bloody vehicles lick at her palm for another tickle.
It had gotten to a point that Rayn purposely cut her guards loose, in hopes that some buffoon would try to assassinate her. And even if he wasn't going to snipe her professionally from a one hundred story building, maybe someone would have the audacity to mug her, try to pry her dainty purse from her gold ringed fingers so that she could distort her cheeks with her hands and say, "Oh my, someone has stolen my purse! What is a helpless Crime Lord to do?"
For Mar's sake, if she were lucky, some devious child would at least kick her ankle—really hard, while she was crossing a busy intersection where the pain would prevent her from crossing before the light changed! Then maybe she'd remember what it felt like to have her life on the line and she could pass the feeling to her unmotivated ex-convict employees.
Feeling unmotivated herself, the woman adjusted her dress jacket and approached the table. As expected, the group of men steered their murderous gazes of warning to her as she closed the distance.
This is good, Rayn thought wryly, I might be fortunate enough to feel my adrenaline flicker.
"Hey, this is a man's game, all right? Beat it."
Apparently, this was supposed to ward the woman off. Instead, she looked down to Shiv, the broken eared, tattoo faced man with a sardonic smile about her, crossing her arms as she locked a hip to the right.
"Ah, so I can race with the big boys, but I can't fumble with a bunch of rectangular pieces of paper? How amusing."
"This ain't solitaire or slap-"
"Snap."
"Whatever it is you people play over there-"
"Us people?"
"Poker's a hard game, lady. If you're not gambling metal in your pockets, you're gambling your blood."
Her red blotted lips spreading into an arrogant and challenging smile, Rayn unfolded her arms to place a palm on her waist.
"Blimey. Metal in the pockets, ey? Well, let me assure you, I've got plenty of pockets, and metal to go with it, too. After all, I give you your paychecks…"
Clearing his throat from the opposite end of the table, Cutter breathed through the wires of his mouthpiece, "We can just take it from you."
Edje agreed, "Yeah. No game necessary. With the speed of my reflexes, you'll be bare of pockets and maybe some other things before you know it."
"…"
When the Crime Lord paused, the men nodded to each other with satisfaction, already coming to the conclusion that they had successfully scared her off. So when the woman yanked out the extra chair with a rude whine against the floor and plopped into it, they all turned to her with wide eyes- all except Razer who had avoided gazes with her the entire time, busying himself with his hand of cards.
"Oh, codswallop. If you want to whack me, I invite you to try. While I had my nose stuffed into textbooks all my life, I'm not the daughter of Krew for naught. By the time your fingers reach the stitching of my collar, I will have your wrist attached to your elbow-"
That was when Razer must have lost it.
"B-boss? What's so funny?"
Shiv asked nervously, noting how their leader, who had been previously solemn, had suddenly burst into a laughing fit. Giving the table a healthy slap and sliding a cigarette into his mouth, he shook his head as he finally matched gazes with the new Crime Lord of Kras- the one he refused to race for.
"Why, Razer, how lovely of you to join us. With all the silence you've been granting me, even as I shove orbs into your face to set these blokes straight on a weekly basis - I almost thought you'd gone mute. For a while there, I was under the impression that Mizo's death had choked you up into tears and you've been holding a grudge against me ever since."
"Blokes? And what the hell is a cods- cohdswahlope-"
"Shut up, Cutter. Now, you listen here, Krew-"
Before Shiv could punctuate the end of that threat, Razer raised a hand to quiet him.
"Avoid the big words, princess. It hurts them."
"But boss, did you hear what she said-"
"She's right, Shiv. Her slender fingers may rival Edje's in speed. She's the daughter of a weapon's specialist, or have you forgotten?"
The orange haired man just looked to Rayn with a disgruntled expression, crossing his arms and looking away with shame. When the group of men had relaxed their rebellion, Rayn looked to Razer, who was completely different from moments ago. Before, the retired racer was not hesitant in ignoring her existence, but now, he kept his fierce viridian eyes boring into hers, possibly keeping his eye on something that piqued his interest.
"All right, Krew princess, you dare to dance with death?"
Eager for some excitement, she agreed, "Love to."
Razer gestured that she shuffle the cards and get comfortable as he smoked his fix. Shrugging off her jacket, she rotated her shoulders back with a click before scratching at her head.
"Damn, hair. Do you mind?"
"Be my guest. There are no beauty pageants here."
With Razer's consent, the woman reached for the pins tying her pale braid of cobalt into the constrained bun that was giving the Crime Lord a neck ache. Upon unleashing the hair accessories, a long wave of hair spilled down her shoulders as she set the pins to the wooden table with a ping.
"Phew. Now all I need is a fluffy pair of slippers and a drink."
Edje scoffed, "Fluffy slippers? What do you think this is? A spa?"
"Cutter," Razer summoned.
"Yes, boss?"
"Get the lady a drink- and no extra seasoning this time."
"Ooh, some of that Wastelander's brew or whatever cobblers that's been tickling everyone's fanny as of late-"
Once again, Rayn's accented diction stopped a very confused Cutter in his tracks.
"Cobblers?"
"Keep it simple, I told you," Razer reminded with a wave of his hand.
"Oh, is that why I never get to hear this impressive language of yours?"
"Of course, my dear. If I did speak it, I might as well consider myself communicating with a herd of yakows."
With a sigh, Rayn clarified, "Oh, all right. Makes me wonder why you decided to get into this business with all that intelligence bottled up beneath that greasy hair-do of yours."
"My, my, is that a compliment, Miss Krew?"
The Crime Lord paused, meeting his suggestive expression with a smirk of her own. When she responded with a grin, the knife wielder finished.
"Well, intelligence or not, combat racing wasn't exactly on the list of extra curricular activities back in school, and I couldn't tear myself away from the sport."
"Ah, yes, we all get coaxed in somehow. All right, now, we ready to deal or what?"
As Cutter placed the mug of golden liquid on the table, Razer examined the drink with a brief sniff before approving and handing it over to the woman across from him.
"How sweet of you to make sure your new boss doesn't get poisoned," she quipped, already enjoying every moment passing between herself and her racers.
For once, there were no boundaries between them. Razer had allowed the walls to fall, giving the woman the chance at some fun and to kick back like she used to do in the good old days. And that was aside from the perk of plucking Razer's patience to see how far she could drive him. This was the most he'd ever spoken since she'd been signing his paychecks.
"Of course. Where would the fun in that be?"
With a roll of their eyes and heavy huffs of their breath, the other three men impatiently motioned for the cards.
With a new deviousness aroused in him, Razer drew a large hand through the blackened tresses over his scalp, leaning his elbows on the table.
"All right, Krew. What are you putting on the line?"
"Umm, Razer?"
There was no answer.
"Razer," she attempted again with more sternness.
"Hmm?"
"About that bet-"
"Ah, yes, the one where you're going to give me half of the rights in Kras' racing enterprise- that would be the one, correct?"
"Heh, heh. Yes. That one," she fluttered with a nervous laugh.
"Hmm, hmm. What is it, Krew? Getting cold feet? It's out of five rounds remember? This is only the third."
Yes. She knew that. Despite what the seemingly sober, and gruff faced man must have assumed, she was well aware what round they were up to. She was definitely counting because she was already counting the rounds that the hands traveled along the clock. She was also counting the gradually irritating taps Shiv was making against the table in an effort not to loose his top, the snorts Edje was making as he fought his sleep and the times Cutter had a questionable glint in his eye aimed towards her collar. Strange, that one was…
This was the third round. It was three out of five. If the man across from her won this one, it was all over. It was as over as the Baron arc in Haven city. If she lost this hand, she could kiss any profit she'd made goodbye. Although of course, in actuality, it was really his to begin with.
Originally, Mizo did have half of these rights contracted to be handed over to Razer should he be unable to perform his duties or should he suffer an accident or face untimely death. However, because of the matter of how he died, a case in which only Rayn and Jak's crew knew about, Mizo's body was disintegrated to nothing but soot that must have blown into the ocean, for there were no traces of the Crime Lord once the authorities arrived.
No body. No confirmation of death. No rights. And since having an underground dynasty of crime didn't exactly qualify for being able to take the issue of Blitz's will to the court of law, Razer had no choice but to accept his unfortunate fluke of bad luck and relinquish his right to profit – profit in which Rayn now owned.
Distract him. I need to distract him!
Suddenly, Rayn placed her cards onto her lap, giving her free hands a chance to stretch upward. As she arched her back toward the table, yawning in a deeply exaggerated tone, the woman caught the flinch of Razer's eye, as her business attire lifted momentarily to reveal the bronzed cream of her waist.
Yes! I got him!
But then he- laughed?
Rayn arched a brow.
All right! Let's try something else.
"Cutter!"
The masked man almost hopped from his chair.
"Wha- what?"
"Would you be a darling, wood face and fetch me another drink?"
"…"
"Please?"
"…"
Rayn sighed and was about to revise her plan before Razer snapped his fingers.
Cutter reacted like a trained circus animal and practically catapulted to the bar with her glass.
"Blimey, I wish some of my servants worked that fast," Rayn thought. Nesting her chin into her knuckles, she leaned forward, hoping to give Razer more of a distraction as the buttons of her loose collar snapped almost to the man's very stare. This was it. Hopefully the mild peek of lavender lace should do it-
Razer scoffed again, returning his gaze to his cards.
Now becoming very annoyed, as well as perplexed, Rayn huffed back into her seat. Bringing her cards back to her eyes, she studied her hand before reaching out for a new card. She mumbled something unintentionally, and it seemed like this was enough to snap the racer's attention to her.
"Hmm?"
"What? I didn't say anything?"
"Are you sure?"
Razer rested his head back against the cushion of the seat behind him, nonchalantly awaiting her answer. By the relaxed posture he maintained in the chair as he practically melted into it compared to the way her body rigidly cramped into her seat, it was apparent that Razer found her as a source of amusement.
Mocking me, are we? We'll see about that.
"Oh, well, I was just thinking to myself…"
"Yes?"
"About those rumors I hear around some of your lady fans. I was just thinking that it might actually be true."
"Rumors, hmm? And what would these rumors entail, exactly?"
"Oh, well, it's nothing really. Nothing that a famed and handsome man like yourself should really care for – It's just commoner's rambling," Rayn swatted away the subject purposely, pulling Razer's interest ever deeper.
Sitting up from his previously relaxed position, the woman had finally reeled his attention. "Humor me, Krew princess. If it's something I haven't heard yet, I might actually return ten percent of the profit I win."
Cutter returned with her drink and Rayn took the time to take a sip. A nice, long, more than necessary sip as the racer was impatiently sitting across from her. Satisfied, the Crime Lord decided not to test his patience too much and gave in.
"Well, there are things that I hear in the ladies room during your races and there's been some speculation-"
Her voice lowered to a whisper. Cutter sat with crossed arms, giving her that odd look again. Edje had long passed out and Shiv was helping himself to his own drink. So far, he was doing a fabulous job of not ranting and raving at her for any little thing.
"I hear you turn a lot of women down, Razer. And it seems that it's making your precious fans think that you're somewhat of a- well, you know-"
"What?"
This time, Razer's voice had transformed. Rather than a question, it was more like he was expecting what her response was, but was curious to see if she had the audacity to voice it. As his grin widened, Rayn spit it out.
"Ahem, a backtickl-"
"SHIV! You okay, man?"
Edje had a crude awakening when the redheaded man beside him spit out the very beer that rounded his cheeks. Choking and coughing, Edje aided the fellow criminal with a heavy pat to his back.
"What the hell is a backtick-"
Cutter was about to ask before Shiv caught his breath.
"I should cut your tongue right out of your-"
"Silence," Razer commanded and the table was at a hush once again.
Frustrated, Cutter looked to Shiv for answers - lost as a Spargus citizen in the middle of the Northern Ice lands.
Rayn released a purr, studying the very changes in her rival's face as he toyed with a fresh cigarette between his fingers.
"You amuse me, Rayn, to the point that I find you worthy of calling you by your name, if you don't mind."
"Not at all, Razer."
"Now, as for the issue at hand, I do feel slightly inclined to prove that rumor wrong to you. After all, the fans do not faze me, but I cannot have my boss thinking otherwise because she holds the key to the city. Wouldn't want you to be a sore loser after I win my profits and have you seeking revenge by spreading this foulness."
"Why, Razer. I would do no such thing."
Shiv was beginning to pick up on something that wasn't previously in the atmosphere two hours ago and hid a curled lip of disgust behind his palm. Clearing his throat, the racer deemed it necessary to move past Rayn's distraction, one that surprisingly worked well only for a flicker's worth of time, but wasn't enough to erase his objective from mind.
Spreading out his cards, he announced, "Full house."
"Damn it," the three other men groaned and breathed curses as they dug into their pockets and threw orbs onto the table. The woman had yet to reveal her hand.
"What has luck granted you, Krew princess?"
With new hope rising in her, the woman slammed her cards onto the wood after the realization hit her.
"Four of a kind! I win this one!"
Lighting a new cigarette, he lent the Crime Lord a nod of acknowledgement.
"Hmm, luck pitied you. Let's see how long that lasts."
Now with more determination about her, Rayn offered to shuffle the cards, brushing a fingertip against his as she gathered them.
"Pity, is it? Perhaps, luck just favors the one in power."
Instead of countering that comment, Razer exhaled a stream of smoke, while an eye of his gave way to a subtle wink…
"All right, Rayn. The night is old, the beer is leaving a bad aftertaste and the boys have already given up. If we don't clear this round, I may be prone to shoving this cigarette into Edje's neck the next time he snorts like a whiny Ottsel with the bad case of the flu."
"Honestly, Razer, I don't understand how you deal. This- this seems like loads of fun, really, but do you do this everyday with them?"
"My, my, Rayn Krew. Are you suggesting that because I am retired, that I have nothing better to do than to grace this disastrous excuse for a bar with my presence on a daily basis?"
"I don't know Razer. There's plenty mystery beneath that trench coat of yours-"
Razer scratched at the loose strands of ebony falling over his eyes. Giving his hand of cards a squint, he motioned to exchange for a new card. The man seemed oblivious to her slip of words. Fighting back a flush in her cheeks, Rayn returned her gaze to her cards as well.
It was silent for a minute or two, only the clock chiming between the flapping of cards being swapped over the mahogany. Edje, and Shiv had long surrendered to sleep and Cutter's head lolled occasionally as he was being tempted by it. Shifting uncomfortably in the wooden chair, the woman huffed, ignoring the rumble in the pit of her stomach aside from the perspiring man across from her who was beginning to look oddly attractive at this hour.
Must have been the Wastelander's Brew…
When there was a sound of rustling fabric, the woman chanced a look up to catch the racer shrugging of his coat, revealing the tight, short sleeved shirt that stretched over the canvas of distinctly toned shoulders. He was too busy contemplating his cards to notice the widening of her eyes. Black ink trailed down his arms, a feature she had always assumed was there, after all, tattoos were usually a trademark of the industry, but she rarely laid eyes on such a thing- at least not on him. The dark ink was a superb contrast between his pale skin and the white of his shirt, now threatening to be transparent with it's cotton material giving way to his perspiration to reveal the subtle sign of ink crossing over his collarbone and downward-
Rayn quickly looked away.
Upon hearing the Crime Lord clear her throat uncomfortably, Razer asked, still not meeting her eyes, "Something wrong? I hope the pressure isn't getting to you. After all, the price of forfeiting the game is a lot steeper than just losing."
Not paying heed to his mildly serious threat, Rayn was growing hot, fidgeting with the mess of hair down her back and wrestling it back over her head to give her neck some sort of draft. That was a mistake. The door to the Bloody Hook had been opened, courtesy of Cutter about an hour before, and the breeze pulled at the goose pimples rising from her flesh.
Now she was just uncomfortable- between the heat sticking her button down shirt to her spine and the breeze bullying her arms and legs that escaped beneath the warm of the table. Rayn reminded herself to wear slacks the next time she decided to have a night on the town, and if she was inviting danger, a skirt was probably not such a wise choice.
"Razer."
"Yes?"
"Are you sure you don't want to reconsider the prize? I have won the past two times."
"True. However, since I won the two before that, it is safe to say we both have a fifty fifty chance in this round. What have I got to lose? So, I have to race for you. You never said for how long and under what circumstances."
"Why, you-"
Seeing that she was only feeding his smirk, she quipped, "Well, in that case, I never explained what half of the profits entailed. The racing industry is a complex one. I can just reward you with half of the money that I can make back easily, but you will not have any control over the actual sport."
Razer found it necessary to lay his most prized knife out along the table, feigning that he had done so out of a random desire to polish it with his handkerchief. Rayn was unfazed by the suggestive motion.
"Hmm, hmm. You are very slick. I'm beginning to willingly accept that you might have been creditable to the defeat of my late boss, Mizo."
"So, shall we discuss, then? The rewards in detail?"
Razer gestured that she start, an opportunity for Rayn to revise her foolishly bold challenges that could possibly destroy her if Razer was victorious in this round.
"Hmm, well, first let's see, what do I want? I feel like making you race will surely up the ratings of the sport again, but there's not much fun in that for me, personally."
Rayn tilted her head in contemplation but was distracted from thought as she found Cutter aiming that look at her again.
"You! Stop that!"
"W-what?"
"Whatever it is you're doing- stop it."
Cutter was about to defend himself until Razer interrupted.
"Ah, Rayn, I have something that may interest you."
"Hmm?"
"You like mysteries, yes? Want to know all these secrets about the racers you employ?"
"Sounds interesting. Go on."
Just then, Razer turned to Cutter.
"Take it off."
"What?"
"The mask. Show her."
For the first time since she'd met the bloodthirsty man, Cutter hesitated at Razer's command.
"What- I-"
"Why? What's beneath his mask?"
Rayn was growing excited, clapping like a child at the fair and waiting for the clown to make an animal balloon.
"Cutter."
There was a moment of silence before the other racer had no choice but to comply.
"If you tell anyone, I will kill you myself, Krew," Cutter spat as he reached for the straps beneath his chin.
She had to say, this was similar to those scenes in the movies, where the masked hero or the masked burglar finally revealed himself at the climax of the story. Rayn felt her heart thump against her ribs, looking with anticipation. Of course, she had always assumed that the reason Cutter had worn such a contraption was because there was something hideous and vile beneath it- something that told tales of countless murders and crimes that not even Kras' toughest Crime Kings could stomach. Not much was known about his past, except that he appeared one day, slamming an application to one of Mizo's henchmen, demanding that he race. There were even rumors about bloody fingerprints on the pile of papers once it reached Mizo's very hands, and to Mizo, such a thing was a plus. This climbed him up a barrage of other applicants quickly and Cutter became one of Mizo's main racers.
When the wood came over the jaw of the racer in question, Rayn almost fell backwards.
"Oh my-"
Razer laughed - another one of those uncommon laughs that he did out loud.
"Cutter-"
A momentary look of pity washed over her as she almost reached out to the man before he turned away in shame.
"You're- you're-"
"Don't you dare say it-"
"You're one of the most adorable men I have ever seen! Why, if I wasn't myself right now, I may be tempted to squeeze a cheek! Precursors! How the hell did you manage to get by in the underground with such a Mar forsaken face that will make children run to you?"
"Shut the hell up!"
"All right, all right. That's enough."
Razer granted Cutter the permission to hide away again and the man uttered a word of gratitude. Not being able to wipe off the smile from her face, she snapped her attention back to Razer, who had usurped a place in being an entertainer.
"What else? What else?"
"Ah, I can't reveal everything about your drivers just yet, or else you will have nothing to look forward to."
"All, right. I want to make a deal."
Razer nodded.
"It's no secret that Combat Racing has grown stale lately and the profits are beginning to wilt."
"Mmm hmm?"
As the man hummed, Rayn felt the brush of his leg come in contact with hers as he shifted positions in his seat. The woman instantly drew back, giving the criminal a look of warning.
"The chair is sticking to my skin and your legs were in my way."
Rayn chose not to respond to that, and continued, "I need you to race for me, to bring up ticket sales, television ratings, and bring back the overall excitement to the sport while still maintaining room for new drivers to come in and claim fame. You, don't want to race for me and I know no matter how many times I win this bloody game, if you say no, you could easily take it upon yourself with an attempt on my life rather than giving me my fair share of our bargain."
"You're a wise woman, Krew. You're right. I can just kill you if I don't like your side of the bargain and believe me, your team of guards will not stand a chance."
"Yes, yes, lovely. Moving on. So, how about, if I win and you agree to race for me on occasions like special events, and lend me a hand at finding new talent by testing their guts on the tracks, I will reward you with half of the profits earned from every race and allow you to race in whatever vehicle you like, whatever stipulations you desire for the event, you name it. And we will write this in contract."
"Why, Rayn, that sounds like you are trying to make an offer so appealing, that I will lose my desire to win this game of ours. Is this your indirect way of surrendering and begging for mercy, my dear?"
"Take it or leave it. And of course, any dibs on the racers like these mysteries you're speaking of, those are included."
"You're asking for quite much."
"I'm a hard woman to please."
"What if I say no?"
"Well… Well, I guess I have to think of something else."
Razer smiled again, pearly white teeth flaring between his thin lips as he rotated cards between his thick fingers. Looking to her hands, he asked, "Lay out your cards within the next few change of cards, Krew – five minutes max. If I win, I will decide what I want afterwards-"
"That's not fair-"
"Life isn't fair. Don't forget what kind of world you're working in."
"…"
Rayn didn't like this. This wasn't what she was aiming for. She was trying to get him to ease up on her, but it seemed like all she did was throw all these rewards for him to reap in the open and nothing for her to grab in return. Who knew what he was thinking of?
It was her decision to discuss the prizes and because of that, if the man won, he could possibly choose to take whatever he wanted from her. And while she would hardly admit it, Razer was right when he spoke of his advantage to killing her. If something wasn't to his liking, he simply was rid of it. She lacked that advantage. While she could hire all the muscled goons that all the orbs and bars of gold could pay for, Razer had an entire league of men who were faithful to him, and knew the city like the veins on the very hands they used to clench their steering wheels. If she didn't like his choice of reward, there was no "simply getting rid of him." The man would not stop until either his conditions were met, or she was found floating by the ports one sunny Sunday morning by the fishermen.
Not having much of a choice and her hope being drowned by Razer's approach to her bargain, Rayn huffed, taking a chance to exchange a card or two before laying out her hand.
They were in complete silence again. The cards going back and forth, Rayn yawning, fighting her hunger because it had been hours and watching the clock count down to her unavoidable doom. She slipped her shoes off, giving her toes room to flex as she focused on her cards in hopes that Razer wouldn't loose his top and demand that she just throw down whatever she had.
Bloody Jack, and by Jack, she didn't mean the racer that was previously on her team, but the darn Jack in her deck. She had a lot of high-ranking cards, but couldn't find just the right one to create a flush. The Crime Lord was stuck between the decision of ridding herself from the high-ranking cards, in hopes to use the normally numbered ones to create the sequence she wanted. Unfortunately, she knew as the time wore on, so were her turns at picking cards and soon enough, Razer would demand that the game end. Lacking the chance at picking more cards and running the risk that they would all be the wrong card, Rayn decided to stick with her Jack card and try to find one that would make what she already had work. So far, it was no-
"Good!"
"Hmm?"
"I got it! Here! You can't beat this!"
Rayn proudly spread her hand of cards onto the table, revealing a Jack, a Ten, a Nine, an Eight and a Seven of the same suite.
"Straight Flush!"
Crossing her arms, the woman boasted, settling into her seat as if the world was in her hands. She was about to word her wins if it weren't for the specific way the racer's mouth turned up as he observed her cards.
"Haste makes waste."
"Wh- what do you mean?"
Razer revealed his hand.
"Royal Flush."
"Wha- there's no way!"
"I win!"
"Impossible!"
"I win impossible races. Poker is a child's game."
"But, there's- it can't-"
Before her protesting turned into further gibberish, the defeated Crime Lord slumped into her chair, feeling her head whir and a sudden nausea overwhelm her.
It was over! Her entire blood life was over! She was sure of it! Razer would have her head!
She'd stumbled into the wrong place and the wrong hour, and she was such a fool to throw herself into something such as this. It was a mistake. Bored or not, she really should have listened to her better sense and went home- went home to look over papers and go to sleep!
Her mouth hanging open, the Krew Heiress was lost for words, ready to search out a noose in which to adjust to her neck. She didn't know what he would take, but whatever it would be, she was sure it would no doubt ruin her…
"Now, about my recompense…"
Rayn was too shocked and depressed to care. She looked up, dazed and confused, wishing she could just fall asleep on the table right there, and maybe the racer would have pity and leave her alone.
Pity. Who was she kidding? The damn man would run over a fluffy kitten if it were in his way while he was racing for the Grand Prix trophy. What was to stop him at this? Nothing. Nothing at all.
Razer stood up, swinging his coat over his shoulder as he propped a cigarette behind his ear. His jaw was rough with stubble, and his hair free from its hairspray and battling it out with his tired eyes. Cracking his shoulders, he looked to his sleeping henchmen nonchalantly, who were sleeping like logs, and finally rested his gaze on his current boss.
Rayn felt her heart stop.
"Let's go."
This took a moment to register.
"Wh-what? Where are we going?"
"The sun's about to be up in two hours and I want to eat something quick. I'd like to arrive home while it's still dark because I hate the sun in my eyes when I sleep."
Perplexed, Rayn Krew narrowed her amber eyes at him, seeking clarification.
"I'm sorry. I don't understand."
Growing irritated, Razer launched forward and within seconds she found herself backed into her chair, the racer leaning across the table and his face inches from hers.
"Are you hungry, woman? Please don't tell me that you are spoon fed by your servants because I think I will vomit-"
"No! Of course not and yes, I'm hungry," she yelled, out of reaction and not caring that she was screaming in death's face.
"Well, then get up. We're going to eat."
"But why? What about the game?"
"We will discuss it over food. I can't think with nothing but alcohol and acid welling in the pit of my stomach and because you were so entertaining tonight, I am willing to treat you to this meal before you grant me my winnings."
"Last meal, is it?"
"Do you want it to be?"
"Of course not. Fool."
Another slip of words that she harshly threw at Razer, and the blade of his knife hadn't found its way to her throat. Perhaps, she was growing on him.
Gathering her belongings, Rayn was just was eager to feel the wind on her face and get to her silk sheeted bed before dawn. When she slipped on her shoes and clicked beside him as they moved towards the exit, she asked, "Where should we go at this hour?"
The man led her to his vehicle, opening the door and gesturing that she enter. As the door slammed, Rayn caught the grin on the racer's face- one that she was beginning to associate as an attractive one.
"This is Kras. The city never sleeps."
"I see. Then I look forward to these spots in the city that I have not found yet."
"Why, you should be honored to have none other than the great Razer to be your guide- but don't get used to it," he reminded, switching back and forth between his intimidating exterior and the side to him that made Rayn want to spend more time with the man.
She had to admit, while she came barging into the Bloody Hook hours ago, figuring that the most adventure she'd receive was the slight high from the Wastelander's Brew, Rayn was rewarded with the most entertaining night she'd had in years. In the end, although she had crossed paths with death a few times, she received the adrenaline she was looking for as well as something else.
With a suggestive smile blooming over her, she locked eyes with Razer as he began to drive.
"I won't…"
And he returned the grin.
I wrote this when I was very tired. Point out any major misspellings, please.
Okay. Some notes. This strange last name that this site has attached to Razer on the pull down tab when you look for fanfiction, is not Razer's correct, Naughty Dog created, last name. Razer does not have a last name, or rather, it's up to fans to speculate. I like to make that clear because sometimes this site throws names all over the place and it confuses fans that begin to think these things are canon. Like Mar, is not Jak's last name. It is a first name. Matter of fact, I don't believe many of the characters in the Jak series have last names.
Now for some British vocabulary:
Blimey – wow
Codswallop or Cobblers – nonsense
Backtickler – homosexual
Caned – drunk
Blokes – guys
Snap – some British card game apparently
Bampot - idiot
I'd also like to make it clear that Razer's presumed accent by popular fan speculation is German. This accent, or any sign of feminism in a man, or what is considered feminism by Western standards, should not have fans come to firm conclusions about the character's sexual preference. Of course, for fun, writers can write as they choose, and I welcome lots of Razer love since Razer is an often under-appreciated character. I just like to make clear what is confirmed information and what is not. Razer and Rayn as a pairing is not a confirmed, supported, and canon pair by Naughty Dog.
OMG, I've never played poker in my life! So, I did some research and if there's a mistake, please share it with me.