Chapter 4

Strange. That was how it felt to go from wearing a dark skirt on a regular basis to donning murky yellow mechanic jeans. They weren't even tight (to the contrary, they were a little on the baggy side), but they still seemed restrictive and confining on Nina's long, lanky legs, to say nothing of how the white tank top felt out of place on her chest, the garment proving too small to cover the entirety of her torso. To its credit, the tank top emblazoned with a pink star in the centre did conceal the… ahem… 'key assets' of Nina's upper body, but it left her navel completely exposed to the elements, and the goth girl was not accustomed to feeling the tropical breeze on her stomach.

That's not to say she didn't welcome the breeze that was flowing into the garage through the open door. It certainly offered some much needed ventilation in light of the strong smell of motor oil that permeated throughout the room, not to mention the exhaust fumes being produced by the motorised go-kart in the centre of the garage.

Propped up on a carjack, the small blue vehicle adorned with stripe vinyls of pure white chugged away as its motor ran, the bonnet of the one-person ride open to expose the motor, which Coco was hunched over, examining this and that, a wrench in one hand.

"Fluid levels seem fine… Turbines are operational… Battery sounds good…" the brainy bandicoot mused before straightening up, shutting the bonnet and wiping a hint of sweat from her brow. "Looks like Crash hasn't broken any vital components. Yet," she summarised, turning to face Nina. "See any problems with the—? D'oh!" she groaned when she saw that Nina was nowhere near the kart, instead having plonked herself down atop a cardboard box full of spare hubcaps. "You're supposed to be down by the exhausts!"

"Am I?" Nina asked callously, raising an eyebrow, the sunlight filtering into the garage reflecting off the metallic lowercase 'n' on her forehead, prompting Coco to shield her eyes from the resulting glare. The niece of Cortex turned her gaze away from Coco and picked up a nearby magazine, suspecting it to be one of Crunch's. "Bodybuilders, professional athletes, gym membership promotions... Talk about a fitness freak," she declared, browsing the magazine's pages. "Doesn't that guy ever think about anything else?"

"Says the girl who refused to come out of the bathroom until she'd salvaged her tube of black lipstick from her coat pocket and applied about six layers to her mouth," Coco responded slyly, now leaning casually against the kart, her arms folded.

"Three layers, if it's any of your business," Nina corrected her. "Just wish I had my eyeliner. I need to draw as much attention away from these tacky clothes as possible."

"Those 'tacky clothes' will suit you well enough until your usual stuff has been washed, alright?" Coco told her, eyes narrowed. "They're practical and allow for easy movement. Also, they've previously been washed with a floral-scented fabric softener, so quit complaining."

Nina set the magazine aside and stood up, stretching her arms upward, abruptly stopping when she realised that doing so was starting to pull her top up, threatening to expose her chest. She quickly lowered her arms, very aware of Coco watching her. The youngest of the Bandicoot siblings smirked knowingly, prompting Nina to scowl at her.

"So is this what you do all day? Tighten the bolts on some rickety old kiddie car? Thrilling," the girl with the metal hands declared, her tone dripping with sarcasm on the last word. "What d'you do for kicks, taste the motor oil?"

"No, I prefer to mix it with Wumpa juice," Coco responded with some sarcasm of her own. "It's an acquired taste."

Nina gave a snort of a chuckle. "Well, at least you've got a sense of humour."

"It's a necessity when you live with two boys who both have a talent for finding trouble."

"I'll believe that."

Both girls shared a knowing chuckle, which was followed by a period of uncomfortable silence, their bonding moment over as quickly as it had come. Nina started to twiddle her metal thumbs, producing a noise not unlike the creaking of mattress springs.

"You want some oil for that?"

"Ha, ha, very funny," Nina replied, rolling her eyes.

"No, I'm offering," Coco assured her seriously, reaching over to pick up a can of motor oil and an old rag that was stained with black splotches.

Nina stared at the materials in Coco's hands with a mixture of slight apprehension and faint intrigue. "Whatever the gag is, I don't get it," she said simply.

"Just sit down and maybe stop yapping for a minute," Coco told her as she approached, already starting to prise the can open. Despite her growing wariness at the thought of her arch-rival touching her, not least because of the borderline electrical sensation she had felt when the bandicoot girl's hand had made contact with her shoulder before, Nina forced herself to sit upon the cardboard box once more and, after a moment of very noticeable hesitation and a sigh of resignation, she held out her metal appendages, palms flat.

Coco got down on one knee so that she was almost at eye level in relation to Nina's hands. She tilted the can of oil so that a little of the strong-smelling substance was applied to the filthy-looking rag. She tried to catch Nina's eye before she got to work, but the goth girl was once again averting her gaze, though this time it seemed more out of genuine nervousness than determinedly anti-social behaviour. Deciding not to comment on it, Coco proceeded, using the oily rag to clean and lubricate Nina's metallic hands, making sure to get in between each finger and oil each individual joint. Despite knowing that the metal couldn't feel her touch, the brainy marsupial made it a point to be as gentle as she could, and Nina noticed, glancing at Coco every now and then as she worked, watching her clean the metal appendages so carefully, so… lovingly. The mere sight was enough to encourage the goth girl to relax somewhat, but even so, one question permeated the young Cortex's mind:

'Why?'

"Hmm?" Coco looked up at Nina, the latter realising too late that she had mumbled that question audibly. "You say something?" The bandicoot girl asked inquisitively, her emerald eyes filled with that… that… compassion. Nina couldn't help but question it.

"I… I don't get it," she said after a long moment, still keeping her eyes down. "I don't get why you… why you care."

Coco set the can of oil down and placed her now free hand on Nina's wrist, just above where the goth girl's flesh ended and the metal began. "I care… because it's what I do," she said softly and sincerely. "Nina, look at me. Please," she pleaded.

"I…" Nina bit her lip. "I… I can't," she said at last.

"You can't look at me?" Coco said, a concerned frown appearing on her face. Just how unnerving did her house guest find mere eye contact to be?

"I can't be here!" Nina burst out, leaping up. She was poised to run, but then she finally, finally caught Coco's eye, and in that moment, she could see the worry, the concern, the desire to help, to reach out to someone in need, someone afraid.

Someone like her, Nina Cortex.

"I… I don't belong here," Nina managed. "In the kitchen, when you all laughed at me, it was like…" She swallowed. "I wasn't there. I wasn't in the kitchen. I was… somewhere else. Somewhere miserable. Somewhere hurtful. All the pain, all the hate I'd ever felt…" She bit her lip again. "I gotta go!" she said suddenly. With that, the girl with the metal hands took off, running out of the garage and into N. Sanity Jungle.

"I… Nina!" Coco called after her, but the young Cortex was already gone.


And we have a go-kart!

(crickets chirp)

And also a bonding moment (sort of) between the two best girls in the Crash franchise!

(wild applause)

I just amuse myself in these end-of-chapter footnotes, don't I? (: