Corad: This is just a mini story I decided to write in-between my Shadowed Journey Fic. After playing JakX again recently, the whole racing team thing caught my attention, and I felt like giving a shot at the idea. This is my first time writing in Razer's/Mizo Team's POV, so if there is anything incorrect or if any of the characters are OOC, then please tell me. Also, for this story to work, I needed to create a new OC to fill a gap. None of the current existing cannon characters were able to fill this gap, so any thoughts you have for this new guy, I'd like to hear them. This story is set before JakX, although I haven't decided upon an exact time frame. From the way things are looking, it may need to be set before Jak3 too. With that all said, I hope you guys can try to enjoy this. I'd like to thank my Beta-reader, GreyJedi too, for editing this.
Jak and Daxter (c) Naughty Dog, the OC featured in here belongs to me.
JUST ANOTHER THREAT
Chapter 1 - A Night To Remember
The words that were exchanged were barely heard over the muffled rumbling of engines outside. Only a trained ear would have heard the quiet mutters coming from the masked man, "Mizo wants him recruited or dead. Don't let our boss down, Razer."
"Any reason why?" Razer asked softly, slouching against a couch at the back of the virtually deserted bar. He held a cigarette between his fingers, breathing in the smoke lazily, before releasing it into the air. "Mizo usually has his reasons."
"Apparently this guy has potential. He has a high chance at winning the grand cup. You know how our boss gets. Dislikes competition, and hates threats. Either get this guy on our team or dispose of him," Cutter growled in a rough voice, getting up from the couch and wandering away. Razer watched his teammate disappear through the entrance out into the cold night, and closed his eyes. Another mission Mizo no doubt wanted completed within the next couple of days.
Being a racer of his status was exciting and challenging each day, gaining experience on the track and in the art of killing. He'd made many enemies this way, but couldn't care less. You were either with Razer, or his enemy. Either way you'd most likely end up dead by the end of the week. Racing was a dangerous sport after all.
Getting up from the old, tattered couch, the Racer in red wandered up to the counter, leaning ever so slightly towards the balding barman. "Mizo wants a newbie dead. Have a description for me?"
The barman cocked an eyebrow, placing the glass he'd been wiping down onto the counter. Eyeing around the quiet bar, he replied in a low muffled voice, "You know I get tons of customers, Razer. I need more info on the guy," he growled, looking the Racer square in the eyes.
"From what's been going around, this guy wiped everyone clean in the preliminaries. The boss fears this may get out of his hand. Mizo rather hates losing control," Razer added as an after thought, eying the bar's sidewall. The barman snickered, turning his back on the red clad racer.
"In that case, I haven't heard much. No such racer has dropped by. Are you sure you're not getting your stories mixed up, eh Razer?"
"So you have nothing? And you call yourself the 'ultimate' gatherer of information. It seems this time, you failed," Razer said in amusement, eyes lighting up slightly at the proposition. The barman snarled, gritting his teeth in frustration while turning back around to face the bold Racer.
"Fine, you want it that way. It'll cost ya though. I heard a bunch of intermediate racers last night talking of a guy who demolished the time record by a quarter. Guy must've been driving like crazy to beat your record, Razer," the other man exchanged, resting his palms solidly against the wooden bar top. Razer momentarily zoned out, recalling the preliminary track from years ago. It was a tough track, designed so only the best would get past the finish line and survive. Beating Razer's score was unbelievable. The pro Razer had almost lost his life on that track.
"I see. So Mizo isn't over reacting. Any clue where this man is right now? Any directions would be appreciated," Razer asked, suddenly dead serious in his upfront.
"Past the Eastern intersection, then two blocks south. He's staying at an apartment down there. Haven't seem 'im myself, but watch your back," the barman answered formally, picking up the glass once more. As the man began wiping it down, Razer swung back around and stormed out of the bar, turning a sharp left and wandering a few meters down the dark street to his beloved Havoc V12. Pulling the door open, Razer sat down into the leather seat, placing his feet on the pedals. He slammed the door almost immediately, starting up the ignition and tearing down the street. He wasted no time following the barman's directions, and eventually came to a stop outside a set of run down apartments.
He cut off the engine, sitting quietly in the dark, waiting for a glimpse of this "feared" racer. Just after midnight, a figure appeared from within, and began heading on foot down the street to some unknown destination. Feeling his time had arrived; Razer removed himself smoothly from the car seat, and followed in dead silence.
Razer had pursued the man ahead of him for only a few meters, before the man stopped and spoke, "What do you want?"
"How long have you known of my presence?" Razer asked slyly, taking slow steps towards the other man. Although he could hold his own in a fistfight, the pro racer was determined to discover his foe's fighting style and weaknesses before jumping into battle so hastily. "Well?"
"Since you parked outside my home. I'll repeat the question; what do you want?" the man asked in a serious tone, slowly turning around to face Razer. Razer only just managed to take in the face, with the help of the dim streetlights. The guy looked to be in his mid twenties. Shoulder length, brown hair was tied in a messy ponytail, a bit of stubble growing from his chin. He had piercing green eyes, much like Razer's own, and a single pierced ear, housing a tiny golden stud. He wore mostly brown, and Razer couldn't help but think the guy liked wearing rags. Casting a glance down to his feet, he noticed the man's shoes were literally falling apart.
"My, my, you really are in bad shape," Razer pointed out, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. The tip was glowing eerily in the dimness as he began to smoke it calmly. Blowing smoke into the man's face, he continued, "My boss has concerns that you will take the grand cup. My boss dislikes outsiders winning."
"Humph, well you're boss needs to deal with it," the man retorted, crossing his arms confidently.
"Well, he would, but my boss runs the entire show here in Kras. You don't wanna piss him off. Let me give you some words of advice," Razer spoke, taking a step closer to the other man. "Forfeit the race and you'll be paid 20 grand in compensation." The other man snorted, shaking his head in apparent disbelief.
"Don't tell me that actually works? 20 grand is nothing compared to the winner's bounty. There's no chance in hell I'd forfeit," the man retorted, becoming quite angry. Razer decided to ruffle his feathers some more.
"So you won't take the cash. My boss has another proposition for you then. He'll recruit you into the team. All winnings and proceeds go to our Boss, but we each get a percentage of the overall profit. So even if you lose a race, you'll be rewarded anyway," the pro racer explained. The other man seemed to dislike that thought too, and spat angrily at the ground.
"You're damn messing with me now," the man snarled, beginning to turn around. Razer smirked cruelly as the other racer began to wander back down the street, and called after his disappearing form.
"No, no, I am not messing with you now. But I will on the track. You're as good as dead, my friend. I'll find you and destroy every last trace your slum filled life has to offer," and with that, Razer disappeared off down the path too, back towards his car. He could tell those words hit home. After seating himself in his racing car, he could just make out the man's form sitting on a bench down the street. From his slouching manner, the man had known he'd been utterly defeated.
Having just won the first battle of the war, Razer pulled out into the main street, his engine roaring loudly while he passed the other man. Giving a slight wave to him, the red clad Racer drove off into the darkness. The man's downfall had truly begun.
"Damnit…I'm sorry Thea…it looks like Daddy may not win this year," a voice muttered while a hand began stroking the hair of a sleeping girl around the age of 4. She was nestled amongst some old blankets, sucking her thumb peacefully. The voice continued quietly, "Looks like the competition in this city hates intruders. I'll win though, Thea. I won't let you starve." Removing himself from his daughter's side, the man from earlier leaned over the small form, placing a gentle kiss on the girl's forehead. "I won't let the chain that binds us break."
Corad: So how was it? I'm trying to keep the chapters between 1000 and 2000 words, since in my other fic, they're becoming quite long o.O' If it seems to short, then sorry about that. Did I manage to keep Razer in Character? If anyone has any pointers for me, then I'd appreciate them. Anyhow, comments are welcome and I'm looking for concrit too. Not sure when the next chapter will be up, although it has been written. Until the next update, I'll see you guys later :)