Disclaimer: Does not own Jak and Dax Series

Chapter 10: Blue Halo

The city lights flashed by in streaks of amber against the black haze of buildings, Razer clung to Erol for dear life as the wind blasted across his face. He was hardly even able to open his eyes into the damp night air. Rather than fighting to see where the commander was taking him, the Northerner buried his face in the nape of Erol's neck, pressing his to the man's flesh. His grip tightened around the man's waist. Razer's entire body was rigid and practically crushed Erol to his frame; he felt that if he slackened his grip even the slightest bit, he would fly off the back of the speeder. Razer wondered about reconsidering his previous notion of speeders being mere toys.

An insane smirk burned behind the commander's faceplate with every press Razer place upon him. Fear emanated from the Northerner, fueling Erol to crank the throttle even closer to red line. The winding route was clear in his mind and the commander set his sights to inflicting as much adrenaline into his companion's veins as possible, power sliding through the hairpin corners while casually laying the bike over on a cushion of air inches away from the pavement. Erol almost regretted having to slam on the air brakes as the reached a darkened part of the city, where the buildings loomed high in the air and the ocean breeze never stirred.

"You can let go of me any time, sunshine," Erol scoffed when he had to force Razer upwards to sit straight. He flicked up his mask and turned his attention to the unmoving head buried in his shoulder. Erol rolled his eyes; Razer was just being clingy. The ride had not been that terrifying, especially when the passenger was a racer by profession.

Razer wanted to move, but his limbs had turned to lead. All he was able to do was continue to clutch Erol's stomach. Erol, on the other hand, was not so considerate of Razer's frozen condition when Razer felt the commander stand, breaking the vice grip Razer had on him. The Northerner's eyes widened as he only source of support vanished and sent him toppling off the side of the speeder to the asphalt. Spell broken, Razer laid limp for a moment flat on his back as he stared up into blackness. The moonlight did not reach beyond the high rooftops.

"You're pathetic…" Erol appeared in Razer's line of sight, arms crossed until he offered a hand to pull Razer to his feet.

"Where are we?" The Northerner asked as he brushed the dirt from his jacket. The streets were too dark for him to recognize what part of the city they were in.

"The west side of the city," Erol stated as he pushed the speeder into a hidden lift and pressed a keypad, causing the lift to spring to life and descend, taking the bike to some unseen level below. Speeder gone, Erol stepped up to the doorway beside the lift and nodded for Razer to draw closer; the Northerner was standing in the center of the street like a lost child. A solid rap to the wood brought Erol eye to eye with a face behind a slot in the portal, flashes of blue escaped from beyond the guard and spilled out into the night.

"Blue Halo…" Erol said smoothly. The face disappeared as the screen closed and the sounds of numerous dead blots unlatching could be heard from behind the entrance. A tall burly man appeared as the door swung open to allow the pair to enter.

Beyond the door reveals a vast warehouse painted in neon blue light. Bolts of blue eco streaked across wires and transistors illuminating the dance floor below in flashes of light, where countless figures formed a shadowed mass before the stage. Women danced in suspended cages as the eco surged through their bodies, speeding their rhythmic motions in waves of lightning. From the stage pulsed the beat of the band which fueled the rave underneath; its performers clad in elaborate costumes of fishnets, spikes and buckles as the lead singer made his way between exotic dancers and their metallic poles that coursed azure.

Razer noticed a long bar on which more dancers dipped and twirled. Outside the reaches of the ice blue lights of the dance floor, the light faded to deep navy hiding the secluded booths and table along with their occupants. The Northerner took in the entire club as he followed Erol, including the various exits to backrooms and allies. Every face was far younger than his and they all sported the same gothic style; they were all speeder racers.

Erol lead the way into the club, but veered from his path before they passed from the navy twilight into the sky blue dance floor. He instead turned toward an iron staircase, where a large, muscled woman stood guard with a blue Vulcan Fury machine gun in her grasp. She had a small, round face beneath a short mop of magenta hair, which was ratted to stand on end; two long side bangs of black framed her defensive expression. An assortment of furs and hides adorned her heavy boned body, giving her the look of a true Marauder. The woman snapped to attention as Erol approached. Small lavender eye squinted suspiciously at the commander and his friend.

"I'm here to see Sheila…" Erol waved the bodyguard aside with his racing glove. The woman gave him a severe gaze to size up the shorter man and moved aside to unblock his path to the rod iron staircase.

The stairway led up to a private balcony, which overlooked all of the club. Blue eco curled up Jacobs ladders in bright arcs, casting the otherwise dim lounge into an eerie shad of glacier blue. Low futons and lounge chairs were littered across the expanse and were occupied by a variety of scantily clad men and women. Some of them gambled one the glass tables while they sipped glowing neon drinks; others were wrapped in private exchanges, many not involving words.

The hostess of the humble establishment was not difficult to locate, having taken the longest blue futon for herself in the center of the balcony directly overlooking the stage. Sheila Owens sat between two thin, topless boys. Her arms were around each of their naked backs as she whispered into their ears to play the hand of cards they huddled about. A wicked smile crossed her face as one man laid down two cards while the other raised the stakes.

"Is it too late to deal me in?" Erol inquired to announce his presence. He noticed two of the other card players in chairs opposite Sheila's couch lean forward to fold their hands and remove themselves from the seats to make room for Erol and Razer. Not waiting for an invitation to sit, Erol placed himself firmly in the chair that was most directly in line with Sheila's vision. His golden eyes staring at the Icelander as Razer took up the vacant seat beside him.

"Erol!" Sheila exclaimed, her wicked smile growing at the pair's appearance. She unwrapped herself from the clinging men on her lap to sit back against the cushions, black sleeves falling off her spiked gauntlets to her elbows as she stretched. "And here I was beginning to think you two weren't coming…" Her sapphire eyes flicked to Razer and back. The two men on Sheila's lap were looking for guidance, and quickly climbed off the woman when she motioned for them to leave; the pair rejoining in embrace as they sauntered away. "So," Sheila turned back to Erol after the men had left her sight, "What can I do for you boys?"

Erol raised a brow in a side glance to Razer, who gave a quick nod of approval before the commander spoke. "We need your assistance to make sure this season goes as it should…" Erol began, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the edges of the padded armrests, ready for negotiations. "Namely Jak dead and the title of champion falling to Razer…" Erol trailed off as he cast an intimidating glare at his partner. However, the moment faded and Erol returned to Sheila.

"So you, Erol," Sheila was examining her card in thought, "are giving up the chance of becoming the Kras City racing champion to Razer in return for his help in settling your old score with Jak." The woman glanced up to the commander for confirmation of her theory. Erol's sullen expression was answer enough. "And you'd like me to help you both in destroying Jak and getting Razer his title back…" She set her cards on the table. "Your stakes are very high boys," she leaned an elbow on her knee in a masculine fashion that suited her conservative look. "What's in it for me?"

"What do you want from us?" Razer broke in. He lounged casually in his chair, looking at home in the nightclub atmosphere with his arms propped up at his sides. A freshly lit cigarette glowed orange in the blue light between his green tinted gloves. He realized Sheila would find some way to profit from this deal.

"I want endorsement rights," Sheila sat back again and hung her arms over the cushions of the sofa, kicking her combat boots up onto the table, "from the Kras City racing committee legalizing speeder races. I want my sport to be right up there next to combat racing, where it should be… I want an official racing season, facilities, faculity, and even media coverage… I want everything…" Sheila stated blatantly, glancing from Razer to Erol and back. "With the championship ours and Jak gone… it shouldn't be too hard for men of your power to persuade the committee to see my point."

"Deal," Erol said the instant Sheila finished. Her terms would be easy enough to settle once Jak was out of the picture. He knew almost anyone these days could be persuaded with the right means, a blaster to the temple worked well. Ambition got the better of his composure and the commander leapt to his feet to shake on the arrangement.

"Ah," Sheila raised a hand to stop Erol. "Don't be too hasty my dear commander." She raised herself to her feet. "It just so happens I have another meeting to attend before I shake any hands…" A sly glint played in her porcelain face as the men realized their opposition would also be speaking with the Icelander. "I have to hear both sides of this bargain, but from the word on the streets, your proposal is sounding extremely promising…" Sheila flashed a confident grin. "Until then, I'd like to introduce my second, Cyan."

A short woman with electric blue locks emerged from a chair in the corner of the balcony railing and an iron support beam. Her long spiked hair was swept back from a marble cut face and she had ice blue eyes blended perfectly into her complexion with the blue lighting of the room. Sharp heeled boots raised her small frame up to Erol's height, ending around her mid thigh to give way to a mini skirt and a matching corset, both of thick racing leather. Despite her petite size, Cyan's bare upper body was well toned for fighting. Her navy painted lips never parted; she let her piercing stare do the talking for her.

Sheila wrapped a friendly arm around Cyan's shoulder as she took her place beside her boss. "Why don't you show Erol and Razer how hospitable we can be here at the Blue Halo…?" The Icelander smiled and released her silent friend. When she turned back to the pair of men, she noted how Erol's amber eyes were gazing at Cyan in a predatory fashion. Razer, however, had his emerald stare fixed on Erol and narrowed in suspicion.

Sheila's brush off quickly slipped Erol's mind with the addition of Cyan, the female's body language radiated will power in every movement to anyone intelligent enough to make read. While her bared biceps showed she would make the fact easily known for those who did not see. Strong silent women were hard to come by, which only drew Erol further into the woman's snare as he took in how her tall heels and mini skirt emphasized her swaying hips. Erol set his dropped jaw in a lustful smirk. Walking a bit taller than when he entered, the commander followed his guide, who was disappearing down the staircase. Her stare caught his as she rounded down the first flight; it showed a burning challenge of 'come and claim me' as Cyan descended the second flight. Erol was about to put Sheila's hospitability to the test.

Abandoned by Erol, Razer had no choice but to trail after in suite. Taking a long drag, he wandered down the flights of stairs into the heart of the club. His eyes kept track of the commander as he pursued the blue woman through the crowd at the bar; it was disgusting to see how easily Erol fell for the woman's act. Women were all the same in his mind, weak-minded sex traps ready to turn any man into a slave just by mere appearance. Now on the main floor, he bypassed the stares from the younger throng until he found an empty space at along the high bar counter. Motioning for the bartender, Razer took another puff of his cigarette as he looked about the scene. Erol had vanished somewhere in the mass of dancers, but when Razer's scan reached the main entrance a new yet familiar sight met him. Rayn, Jak and Sig filed through the dark portal one after the other. Wasting no time, the gang leader in her pressed business suit blazed the trail towards the magenta Marauder. The competition had officially arrived and all Razer could do was smoke his cigarette and drown his anxiety in the bottom of his glass.

A/N: Woot! Another Chapter down... Things are starting to finally get interesting... The next chapter I'm looking forward to. I attempted to break up the paragraphs a bit to make reading a bit easier, but being the detail monger I am... I can only seem to do so much... Oh well, I still like this chapter. The image of the Blue Halo was haunting me, I want one of those Blue Eco cages... -evil grin- Dax: Yeah, and Razer to fill it... Me: SHHH! He'll hear!!!