Disclaimer: Does not own Jak and Dax


Chapter 9: Whispers

The moon crept over the horizon as the racing convoy returned to the Kras City garage. The day had been long, but the night life was only just beginning when the drivers finally rolled their battered cars onto the lifts. Fortunately, the competitors were blessed with a day of rest before the impending Red Eco Cup Qualifier. For many of the drivers, the free day would be spent with a welder and a tool cart.

"Ya know, it could have been worse," Daxter commented at the ruined mess that rested in Jak's slot of the garage. His furry paw wrapped around Tess's back as she clung to his orange chest, while the other sat on his belt loop. Like the rest of the team that surrounded the twisted pile, Daxter had trouble hiding his dismay over the predicament, which foreshadowed an early end if they did not find a replacement for the Basher. "I mean, we're not dead, right?" Daxter looked up to his best friend beside him.

"Yet…" Jak answered sullenly. Apart from a few bruises on his back and sides he was in perfect health. On the other hand, his mind teemed with anxiety that only showed as a dark foreboding expression on his face. There was no way that he could begin to salvage the Basher; it was beyond even being spare parts. He knew he would find a replacement easily enough, he always found a way, but it was the fact that somebody had sabotaged his car in the first place which bothered him. At the rate the season was going his chances of survival were thinning quickly.

"Don't worry Jak," a solemn voice parted the group to allow Rayn into the circle. She looked tired and slightly frustrated as her eyes gave the twisted metal a once over. "You can drive my Dragonfly for the qualifier. It's not as sturdy as your Basher, but it's fast and it has the same engine power."

"We'll make due…" Jak said, pulling Keira to him as she drew closer. He glanced to the other faces in the group; they all clearly shared his same notions of fool play. Ashelin and Torn were standing arm in arm across on the opposite side of Rayn while Sig stood next to Samos with his arms folded over his broad chest. "We're just going to have to be more careful, people still want us dead…" When Jak said 'people', the other knew he meant Razer and Erol.

"I'll make sure nothing will slip by my officials' next inspection," Rayn assured. She had just as much as the team riding on their victory; her business depended on her team taking the gold. Rayn understood she may not be able to control Erol, Razer, or even Razer's crew, but she did know how to tip the scales in her favor with the racing committee. One of those tricks was cutting off any advantage the two may have over her own team. "I need to ask you all a favor," Rayn began, burying her nerves for the greater cause.

"And just what kind of favor would that be?" Ashelin growled in her skeptical purr. She still had yet to totally let go of the poison incident, but then she was raised to trust her instincts before anyone else. Rayn had already caught her trust off guard with her act before, Ashelin was not about to let it happen again.

Rayn cast a side glance at Ashelin from the corner of her eye. "I have a business meeting with a new associate and I would like some of you to accompany me." Rayn's complexion seemed honest enough, and this time it was genuine at heart as well. "Not you, Ashelin," she cut off the fiery redhead before she could make another comment. "Jak, I'd like you and Sig to come with me in case things don't go favorably…"

"You can count on me, boss lady," Sig smiled. He had been in the business long enough to understand exactly what Rayn meant by things not going 'favorably'. After being Krew's trophy collector of Metal Heads, Sig was more than happy to help Rayn in whatever way he could. She appeared to be far more considerate and level-headed than her father. From prior knowledge, Sig realized that did not stop her from being ruthless either.

The low rumble of engines drew Jak's gaze away from the conversation. He watched as Erol's Road Blade slithered past followed by Razer's black and red Howler 99. Whatever had gone awry with his Basher was because of one of them; he was sure of it and he was prepared to play dirty it that was how the season was going to be. He focused back to his team and to Rayn, who was awaiting an answer. "I'm in…"

Erol was less than happy to see the blonde and his rat still alive as he rolled his Road Blade up onto the lift. The commander climbed out of his racer and turned to give its body a quick inspection. Deep grooves were left in the side where he had traded paint with Jak and the rear engines needed work from Sig's grenade blast; his car would have to wait until tomorrow. Erol had more pressing matters to attend to in the fast approaching night. A low swift hum of a speeder broke Erol's exam of the engine's turbos as Sheila swept past in a blur of black. Pursing his lips in thought and partial annoyance, the commander rose to find his abandoned speeder at its place next to the wall and walked the slim craft down to the black Howler near the center of the garage. He made sure to keep a careful eye on the now Jak's now disbanding team.

"Looks like your little antics failed," Razer refused to look up at the cold sneer beside him and instead continued to make headway on repairing the scraps in his car. The Northerner's disappointment was far more difficult to suppress than the commanders. His plan had been executed flawlessly, save for one detail; Jak was still breathing. "I have yet to see you do anything better…" Razer hissed with an air of a high-society snub. "In fact, I'm beginning to think you'd rather have the boy as your new bumper buddy with how close you two were driving together today. Ramming speed, if I'm correct…" Razer's emeralds flicked up in a sinister manner, silently inquiring Erol's real interest in Jak. He gave a delighted smirk and lit a cigarette as he gazed up at the commander, who did not look at all happy with his comments.

Erol narrowed his amber gems at Razer's suggestive remarks. He would not let the Northerner's prodding ignite his temper. "I like to watch my enemies die slowly," Erol spat and took a step around from behind his speeder as Razer stood up to give his attention to the conversation. "Unlike you and your hurried plans, I like to keep every detail in my control and watch at they crumble from the inside out." Erol's passion crept into the corners of his bloodthirsty snarl.

"Go on," the expression on Erol's face had captured Razer's undivided attention. He clearly saw Erol had some sort of master plan formulating behind the thick exterior of stone. Cutting fuel lines and other means of sabotage were out of the question now that Rayn was most likely aware of his attempts to kill Jak.

The bloodlust vanished from Erol. His expression blanked into complete calm; an exacting glint growing in his eyes as they flickered between thin air and the calculations in his brain. "We already have your drivers in this sport against him… But we need another ally, another person to divide his focus, compromise his loyalties…" Erol's fingers gripped the handle of his speeder as his sharp stare met with Razer's.

"What do you mean 'another ally'?" Razer skepticism won over his anticipation. Who exactly was the commander talking about? No person in particular came to Razer's mind that could fit into the description Erol was giving him, unless. "Her?" Razer jaw dropped in loathing disgust. "Please tell me you're joking, this is just some sick charade?" He brandished his white teeth at the thought of Sheila Owens, an Icelandic rookie hotshot and a medal thief. His anger flared with just the mere mention of the insolent woman.

An orange brow lifted to Razer's reaction. Erol understood the Northerner's hatred, but at this point in time he sought to gain the wild card's favor before Jak and Rayn could sway her. Another threat against Jak would be another ace in the pair's pocket for the blonde's final destruction. "Just get on the bike, or we'll be late for our meeting…" Erol growled. He was not going to explain his motives in the open air of the garage.

Razer bit the filter of his drag for an exceedingly long inhale. He needed it to steady his mind. Erol had a point, another driver in their favor would pull Jak's attention in three ways instead of only two, and whether he like to acknowledge the fact of not, Sheila was a fair driver, cold blooded and suicidal if nothing else. He crossed his arms in contemplation, elbow cradled in his palm as his cigarette-laden hand was raised beside his ear. "And you expect me to just hop on the back of your speeder like some kind of bitch?"

Erol put a disgruntled hand on his hip. The Northerner's complaining was getting on his nerves. "Unless you're in the mood to be shot for showing up in that Class 1 piece of shit…" Erol considered just leaving Razer in the garage; it was his turn to dive after the past nights abduction. Without another word, he mounted the speeder and stared the high powered engine. Razer could stay and fix his Howler for all that he cared.

The Northerner heaved a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes as he tossed away the cigarette butt. He honestly could not believe he was going to consent to even touching a speeder, let alone ride on the back while Erol drove. He cast a glance across the garage to make sure no unfriendly eyes were watching him get on the bike. Unfortunately, everyone seemed to have turned in for the night ore were inspecting their racers and Razer had no excuse but to swing a leg over the speeder and settle himself on the small seat behind Erol. A small smirk replaced his displeasure when he noticed how close their bodies were together; perhaps this was not as bad as he once thought.

"Hold on," Erol said over his shoulder and slid his skull faceplate down over his complexion. His hand revved the engine as Razer's arms curled about his waist, a little tighter than normal causing his entire back to be pulled into Razer's embrace. He rolled his eyes and veered the speeder round to fly out of the garage. He wanted to make sure Razer was too distracted by velocity to get any other ideas and make sure his first time on a speeder would be something to remember.

Jak glanced up from his train of thought as he heard the sound of a second speeder shake the dust from the rafters. A flash of orange and red disappeared into the darkness outside the hanger, taking the same path as Sheila did earlier. Jak's brow furrowed and he stroked his goatee as he connected the dots in his head; Sheila was the wild card for the season and had a particular fondness for speeders. Stretching, Jak stood up and took inventory of his surroundings. The only drivers remaining in the garage were Ashelin and Torn, who were off in there own secluded corner, himself and Sig, who was fiddling with the wiring to his engine. Even Daxter had gone to bed, but then he could not blame the Ottsel what with Tess being with him. Not even Keira could have cheered his lousy disposition at the moment and instead he left himself to wait for Rayn to finish the final reports of the day before they headed off to her 'business meeting'. In any case, Jak did not feel like sulking in his misery alone and strode over to the Wastelander's Howler.

"Don't let it get you down kid," Sig said as Jak pulled up a stool next to his work. He was soldering two severed ends together and even though he did not see Jak's face, he sensed that something was bothering the boy. "We'll get 'em back no problem… Then we'll be on top of the heap again, you'll see…"

Jak looked out of the wide doors into the night. He knew Sig was talking about Razer and Erol, but for some reason his thoughts were not on them. "Sig, what do you know about Icelanders?" He had never given much thought to his new competitor's origin, but his instincts told him now was the time to find out some information on the new coming challenger.

"Icelanders?" Sig sat up to gaze his young comrade in the eye and gave a grim laugh. "They're nothing but Marauders down there… Cold blooded barbarians with a knack for causing trouble. You remember the once from up north in the Wastelands? Well their home city is in the Icelands. Let me tell you something," Sig leaned on his knee to speak softly even though they were the only ones left in the garage. "Those people are born and bred to be fearless and as merciless as our dear cherries across the line," Sig nodded to Razer's Howler. "Now I don't know about this Sheila gal, but if we don't get her on our side, you can damn sure she'll be on Razer and Erol's…" Sig turned back to his wiring. His positive outlook had darkened considerably. He hated Marauders; not a single one he met during his years in the Wastelands gave him any reason to trust the lot of them.

Jak sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Sig's words had not been as comforting as he anticipated; in the back of his mind he hoped the Wastelander was wrong about Sheila. "Let's just hope Rayn knows that…" Jak folded his arms across his chest as he stared out into the night.