Summary: An AU for the World Race in which Gelorum decides to revise her strategy regarding Zed 36. Centered around the Wylde brothers, but everyone else is there, as well. Please enjoy, and feel free to review!

Disclaimer: I would like to start this fic off by saying that, as much as I wish I owned Kurt and Markie Wylde, I do not, and I never will.

Author's Note: Alright, this fic is officially off the ground now, so wish me luck! I started this over a year ago and hadn't touched it in forever, but when Jimmy Candlestick showed such an enthusiastic desire to see what I had so far, I couldn't refuse. Thanks for making me break this out again, Jimmy C! Also, a million, zillion thank-you's are owed to my dear friend Kat Carbines who just recently helped me map out a storyline so I now know where this fic is headed, more or less, from start to finish. Thank You, Schmo chica, you're amazing! And with that, I invite you to begin this journey with me and embark at Chapter 1 below. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Somewhere in the middle of the desert, a man dressed in black from head to toe and wearing a black helmet that concealed his entire face exited hesitantly from his car and walked slowly to where a stern-faced woman awaited him. She, too, was dressed in black, but her face was exposed, revealing chin-length white blonde hair and icy blue eyes. She stepped away from her helicopter and came forward to greet her visitor.

"You shouldn't have come here in person," the masked man stated. "It's dangerous."

"For you, perhaps," was the woman's immediate response.

"Why did you want to see me?" His voice was uncertain, maybe even a bit shaky.

"What went wrong today?" Her piercing eyes bored into him.

He knew what she was referring to. "It's not working for me," he admitted finally. "Sabotaging other drivers."

"CLYP went through a great deal of trouble to give you this car," she replied easily with a gesture towards his sleek black automobile, "this disguise. I shouldn't have thought that simple sabotage would be too much to ask of you, Zed 36."

"I'm a good driver," Zed 36 replied with sudden firmness, "the best! I don't have to cheat to win this race."

"Keeping the Wheel of Power from Tezla is too important to leave to chance. You will win the race, even if you have to eliminate the other drivers to do it."

"Eliminate?" he asked haltingly.

"You know what I mean," she replied, eyes narrowing.

"And you know I won't do it." His unwavering tone now matched her own.

"Why not? I thought you said you had nothing to lose."

"I didn't." He lowered his gaze to the sand. "Not then, anyway."

"What's changed since?"

Zed 36 looked back at her and shook his head in amazement. "You don't understand, do you, Gelorum? You know what's different now! And I'm not going to risk harming him – not for you, not for money, not for anything."

Gelorum was silent for a moment, studying him closely. "Perhaps," she said at last, a slight smile playing on her lips, "we need to revise your motivation, Zed 36."

The man in black froze. "What do you mean?"

"If you succeed in bringing us the Wheel of Power," Gelorum went on, her voice calm yet deliberate, "you will still receive the same payment as was previously determined. But…" Her face grew hard, and her voice was suddenly cold. "…should you fail us and lose the Wheel, we will simply take him in its stead."

In that moment, everything changed for Zed 36. He quickly removed his helmet, disclosing handsomely chiseled features, spiky black hair, and blue eyes bright with fear.

"Gelorum, don't, please." He stared at her expressionless face, his own countenance distraught and his eyes pleading. "Do what you want with me, but leave him out of this! I didn't know he would be here, but he's done nothing to deserve your anger."

"Oh, but he has, Zed 36. His sudden appearance has become an incredible distraction for the one driver that I need to remain focused in this race. Therefore, it is now necessary for us to turn this new distraction into new focus."

The man opened his mouth to protest, but Gelorum interrupted him.

"And don't bother trying to tell him to leave now. If you lose the race, we will find him wherever he may be." She eyed the man's stricken face and smiled in a manner that was almost cruel. "Besides," she continued, "he probably wouldn't believe you even if you did warn him."

She turned and began walking back toward the helicopter before calling over her shoulder, "I suggest you get some rest while you still can, Kurt Wylde. After all, your brother's life now hangs upon the outcome of this race."

Professional driver Kurt Wylde raced back to Dr. Tezla's lonely complex, his mind and heart racing. It was after midnight now, and all the other racers were in bed asleep. The complex had been divided into five different sections so that each of the teams could have their own area in which to eat, sleep, and otherwise relax.

Kurt hurried right past his own team's rooms, though, and rushed to where his greatest rival team, the Wave Rippers, had been assigned to sleep. He was briefly grateful it was so late, for none of the other drivers would be awake to see him behave like this. Despite the new, cruel twist of events, he still wished to uphold his reputation for being tough, aggressive, and unapproachable – a loner.

Though captain of the flashy Street Breed team, Kurt Wylde often preferred to work apart from his recruited teammates. It had even occurred to him that Dan Dresden, his long-time friend and first choice of recruits, was in reality more of the team leader than he was. An extremely talented driver, Dan knew his teammates well, and he worked alongside them even better. He was an ideal racer, although he had been the one to tell Markie about the World Race.

Markie. Breathing hard, Kurt finally stopped outside his destination. He opened the door as quietly as possible, and faint light from the hallway crept into the small room, illuminating the sleeping figure of a young man still in his teenage years.

Kurt let out a heavy sigh and leaned wearily against the doorframe as he sought to quiet his rapid breathing. He ran a hand over his own tired face and walked further into the room, closely observing his younger brother as he slept. As usual, Markie lay on his stomach, the sheets crumpled in a heap at the foot of the bed, and his arms and legs were spread out wildly in all directions with an arm and one foot dangling off the bed.

Yet he was sound asleep, and his youthful face was peaceful. Markie's facial features and black hair were almost identical to Kurt's, but his skin was darker, and his eyes, rather than clear blue, were a rich, dark shade of brown. Kurt moved forward and drew the covers back up over his brother's shoulders, knowing full well that they wouldn't remain there long.

On his part, he had never understood how Markie could sleep like that, though it had made the nights when they'd had to share a bed rather interesting, if not very long and quite tiresome. Kurt grinned, remembering. Markie was just fine – for now. The smile faded, and Kurt dropped to his knees by his brother's bedside with a low groan.

"Oh, Markie," he whispered agonizingly, "Markie, what have you gotten yourself into? What have I gotten you into? Of all times and places, why did you have to suddenly show up here and now?"

Markie, of course, didn't even flinch in response, but Kurt's thoughts drifted back to two days earlier when his brother had mysteriously arrived without his knowledge and assumed the liberty of taking his car for a spin. When Kurt had discovered someone else behind the wheel of his Sling Shot, he had been ready to knock some sense into the wayward driver. And had it been anyone but Markie, he would have seriously lost his temper.

Kurt shook his head in lingering bewilderment as he remembered recognizing his kid brother when the top of the car had lifted. It had easily been one of the greatest surprises of his life. Markie had asked him for a spot on the Street Breed team, but Kurt had turned him down. Though Markie was admittedly a decent driver for not yet being even seventeen, the Street Breed team had already been full; and more importantly, Kurt had feared that Gelorum's interference would make the World Race even more dangerous than it already was.

And now, it seemed, he was right. He had hoped, for Markie's own sake, that he would go home right away. But instead, his only sibling had found a home as the final racer on Vert Wheeler's Wave Rippers team. Kurt had rejected Markie with the intention of keeping him safe.

"And a lot of good that did," Kurt muttered wryly to himself. But he knew Gelorum was right – there was little point in trying to send Markie away now. Besides, it would be better to keep his brother close by so he could keep an eye on him. But would he even be able to stop Gelorum if she decided to follow through on her threat? Somehow he doubted it. He hung his head miserably in his hands and fought frantically against the panic and helplessness that were gnawing away at him deep inside his chest. Suddenly, he lifted his head, eyes full of grim of determination.

"I won't let her hurt you, Markie," he whispered earnestly as he reached out and grasped his brother's hand in his own, certain that the sleeper would not be disturbed. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you." He squeezed the limp hand a little tighter. "I promise."