There was an awkward and sustained silence in the workshop, save for the occasional clanking of tools and the buzz of machinery. The mechanics all distractedly tried to get on with their own tasks, but their eyes kept finding their way back to their new co-worker — their new female co-worker.

Keira had stupefied them all with that remarkable trick she had performed on the cruiser, and now she worked independently and in silence, easily solving the engineering problems that they had failed to complete. She hadn't even looked at them since, as if she didn't even deem them worth her attention, or maybe she was just so absorbed in her work, caught up in a flow-moment. On the one hand, this made them feel envious and resentful of her, for she was making them look bad, well on the way to mending the vehicle they had all deemed as unfixable. But on the other hand, many of them were starting to feel guilty for teasing her earlier, now they could see that she was clearly no novice when it came to working with vehicles. They felt obligated to apologise, but none could find the courage to approach her.

For an hour, this uncomfortable situation continued, and the mechanics grew more and more conflicted, unable to decide what to do about her. Eventually, one fellow was cajoled by his comrades into being the one to speak to her.

"Why me?" he complained in a whisper.

"Because it was your idea in the first place," hissed his friend, "And you're the best at talking to girls. Now get over there."

Caving in to the pressure, he slid off the top of the cruiser he had been fixing, and timidly made his way over to where Keira was knelt working, while the rest watched on surreptitiously. His heart began to quicken as he drew closer to her, and still she did not turn her head. How on earth was she going to react to him?

"Um... hello," he forced himself to say, stopping a respectful distance away.

Keira looked around at once, and lay eyes on the light-haired, sheepish-looking young man. "Oh, hi!" she replied brightly, getting up from her work and facing him fully.

The mechanic gulped. Now he could see Keira up close, he was momentarily disarmed by the cheerful and pert smile on her pretty face, not least because he had not been expecting to receive one from her after their behaviour earlier. He smiled back and tried to make it look natural, but he ended up looking kind of goofy, and he fumbled with the next words in his mind before he managed to start speaking.

"Uh... so... Keira, right?" he checked.

"Yeah," Keira answered with a welcoming impression.

"Um... hi, my name's Mex," he began, figuring he might as well start with an introduction. "Yeah, I know. I've got the best name for what I do — Mex the mechanic!" he added with a small, nervous chuckle, using his trademark joke. Several of his colleagues shook their heads or rolled their eyes in weariness.

"Nice to meet you, Mex," replied Keira without any facetiousness, extending her hand.

Mex took it out of politeness, hoping that his own was not too sweaty. Keira seemed remarkably unfazed and friendly, not cocky or condescending at all, unlike her behaviour had suggested earlier, and she was already treating him with more respect than he felt he deserved.

"Listen," Mex went on once their hands separated, "Uh... I... we all want to apologise. You know, for making fun of you earlier."

Keira looked over his shoulder, and could see a couple of the other mechanics making eye contact. A few of them nodded corroboratively.

"It's just that... well, the way you got the engine out of that cruiser... that was pretty amazing," Mex continued, "And you clearly know your way around the vehicles. It was wrong of us to misjudge you. We behaved like idiots, and we're sorry. All of us."

But Keira's smile did not falter a bit. She was in too much of a good mood right now, doing what she loved, to feel any negative feeling towards this mechanic or any of his colleagues. "It's alright, guys," she said as if it was nothing. "I wasn't really paying attention anyway. But thanks. I appreciate it."

Mex looked rather surprised, but also with an unmistakeable flash of relief. He was not expecting forgiveness to come so easily. "Oh, OK. So... you're not... upset with us, or anything?"

"No, not at all," said Keira brightly. "No hard feelings. In fact, I'm looking forward to working with you all and getting to know you better."

At that, every head in the workshop looked up, immediately interested and paying full attention. She wanted to be friends?

Mex, however, quickly sensed an opportunity, and he decided to be brave and ask her something. "Oh. Wow. Great. Uh... in that case... um, could I... maybe... just quickly get your opinion on something I'm working on? You know... a fresh set of eyes and all that..."

Everyone was very interested now, wondering where this was going to lead.

"Sure," said Keira enthusiastically, putting down her tools. "What is it?"

"Oh, thank you. Uh, this way."

He pointed over his shoulder, but Keira had begun walking even before he did. He led her back the way he had come, trying to keep one step ahead of her, and the eyes of his friends all followed them across the room with intrigue. But he did not stop at the vehicle he had just been working on. Instead he took her further into the workshop, where there was something kept under a large cloth near the back. Everyone knew what this was and now understood Mex's intentions, but Keira, who did not know, was curious. When Mex whipped the cloth away, it revealed something that made Keira's heart jump in pleasant surprise and her eyes shine with nostalgic wonder. It was an old NYFE racing zoomer, one of the finest and fastest the city had ever seen. This one looked a bit beaten out of shape, but it was unmistakeable.

"Wow! I've not seen one of these in ages!" she exclaimed happily. It was just as she remembered them; the sleek and slender shape, the distinctive orange and yellow trim, and the glorious turbo-charged engine that could really light up the racetrack.

Mex was proud, and pleased to see Keira's reaction. "It's cool, huh? I used to be a racer... before the Stadium came down."

Keira's eyes widened even more, and she looked back at him fully again. "No way! I used to work there and had a race team too!"

"Really?" The look of overwhelming surprise now spread to Mex's face, but he was delighted to find this unexpected connection that he shared with Keira. "Wow, small world, huh? We might even have raced against each other once."

They both suddenly felt as if they knew each other a lot better. Meanwhile, the other mechanics looked on, not quite sure exactly what was unfolding here.

"Anyway," said Mex, changing to a slightly more sombre tone, "I suffered a crash one race that put this vehicle out of action. Almost put me out of action too, and it hasn't worked properly since. But I kept it, and I've been working on it from time to time. I'd really like to get it up and running again someday. I know the Stadium's still mostly in ruins and that I might never get to race it again, but... you know..."

Keira needed no explanation. She understood how attached one could get to their favourite vehicles, and one such as this was worth preserving, a memoir of the old racing circuits, where many of these zoomers would purr side by side and then scream against each other as they hurtled around the course. It had been so long since she last had the chance to get her hands on one of these marvellous vehicles, not since the Stadium's destruction. She'd thought that none had survived.

Mex became sheepish again. "So do you think... maybe... you'd like to have a look at it some time?"

"I'd love to!" said Keira enthusiastically, feeling ready for an exciting challenge.

"You will?" Mex asked, looking genuinely touched. "Wow, thank you. That really means a lot to me."

Keira rolled up her sleeves at once. "Let's open it up and take a look then!"

Mex halted unexpectedly. "You mean right now?"

"Why not?" said Keira, brimming with readiness.

Mex felt confidence and appreciation building from deep inside. Maybe he had finally found someone who could help him bring his old vehicle back to life. "Alright. Let's get to it then!"

They both started work together on the old racer, taking it apart piece by piece to get at the heart of the machinery within. Keira asked many questions to learn its history and understand what procedures he had taken with it already, and Mex was only too happy to answer. He had a good memory, and Keira absorbed all the information he gave her like a sponge, but they often got sidetracked into long accounts of races and big victories, both sharing their own stories of working in the race business.

Back to the job at hand, Keira listened to the rattled sounds of the racer's engine. It had definitely seen better days, but she found everything she remembered about these vehicles coming back to her as if she had seen one just yesterday. After all, she had fixed up these things more times than she could count back in her circuit days. As a result, she had very little difficulty working out what needed to be done to get this old racer back up to scratch. However, the greatest challenge was finding the right spare parts in the workshop, for it was specified for military vehicles, and thus differently equipped to her old racing garage. She had to resort to some pretty creative improvisation using whatever she could find, and her mind began to pulse from the concentration, working out the complicated surgery it would take to manifest her visions and ideas. Meanwhile, all the other workers tried to get back to what they were doing, but kept one eye always on Keira. Watching her work was both a distraction and a delight.

"Alright, let's give this a try..." she said after an hour of heavy tinkering, and everyone in the room paid full attention again. The old racer was all back together.

Keira twisted a last few bolts, greased a few more joints, and then fired it up, anxious to see if her dedicated efforts were going to pay off. The engine vibrated promisingly under her hand with a low hum, and she smiled. She gave it a bit more power, the vehicle began hovering, and its noise grew until a glorious, primal roar filled the entire workshop, one that had not been heard since the fall of the Stadium. It brought wild and vivid memories of the races back into everyone's minds.

Mex's eyes lit up with wonder. "Wow! You actually got it going again!" he said once the engine was shut back off. "You're a genius, Keira!"

Keira felt very flattered by his praise and could not control her smile. She was very pleased with herself too; this had been a real test of her skill and creativity, but she tried to be modest.

"It's alright. I mean I've done the best that I could with the stuff we've got available here. If we were still in my old garage, I could do a proper job on it. But that should hold it for now."

She got up and cleaned the grease off her fingers, and Mex looked at her with great admiration. He felt a strong urge to give her a hug, but held himself back, not knowing if it would be appropriate or not. Besides, he was still covered in a fair bit of oil. "Thank you, Keira. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"No problem," she said cheerfully. "This was fun. Thanks for showing me this. I hope you get to race it again one day."

"Yeah, me too," he replied confidently, feeling now that anything could be possible. In fact he wanted to take it out for a spin right now, drive it around here in the workshop if he had to.

"But until then," said Keira, "If you need anything else, I'm happy to help again."

Mex thanked her again, and she left him quivering with joy to bask in the renewed wonder of his treasured race vehicle. The room was in awed silence once more, and Keira now found a dozen impressed pairs of eyes all watching her. She felt a little exposed under their stare, but she pulled together her self-confidence and addressed the whole room.

"Anything else I can help with?"

Nearly every hand in the hangar eagerly went up, and Keira smiled to herself yet again. She could tell that she was going to fit in very well here.

She stayed in the hangar for a few hours more, helping out all the other mechanics who had either become stuck with something or desired her input and opinion. She felt right at home, sharing her self-taught expertise and personalised engineering techniques that she had developed over her years of experience, and it was welcomingly nice to get to work with other people for once, having spent most of her life and career working solo.

The others were grateful for her input, and though they tried to conceal it, they genuinely enjoyed her charming presence. Some were understandably shy and hesitant around her, particularly those who had made most of the jeering comments aimed at her earlier, but Keira acted as if none of it had ever happened, and treated everyone with equal attention and respect as she made her way around the workshop.

Night fell, but in the windowless, artificially-lit workshop, it did not look any different. It was only when Keira happened to glance at the clock that she realised how late it now was.

"Whoa, it's nearly midnight," she said. "I'd better head home now, guys."

All the others in the room felt suddenly empty upon hearing this, and their work slammed to a halt. "Do you have to go so soon?" asked Mex, hoping he could get her to stay a little longer.

"I'd better," Keira explained. "My father will probably start to worry. But it was really nice working with you all. I hope I get to come back and do some more work soon."

The other mechanics were sad to let her go, but in the hope that she would return again, perhaps even the very next day, they respectfully said goodnight, and watched her back as she disappeared through the main doors. When she was gone from sight, they all looked at each other in wonderment.

Mex gave a long, low whistle. "What a girl!"

"Aww, you got a new girlfriend?" teased the one beside him.

"Shut up, Vend!" he said, and he tossed an oily rag into his colleague's face. "I'm just saying, she's real good with the wrench."

"Yeah yeah," said Vend, wiping off the oil. "But can you imagine what it would be like to have a girl around here all the time? Ha ha, it would certainly make coming to work much more interesting!"

"You said it!" replied Mex in agreement. "I'll bet there's a lot she could teach us."

His friend thumped him on the arm. "You idiot! I mean she's hot!"

"How old do you think she is?" asked a third mechanic across the room. "Eighteen? Nineteen? She looks nearly half our age and already she surpasses most of our skills."

As they commenced discussing their thoughts and opinions of Keira which would last long into the night, Keira herself merrily strode down the corridor, with a noticeable spring in her step, towards the lift. The doors opened as she approached, and there was Vis.

"Oh, hey Vis," she chirped, her good mood shining through her still.

"Hey Keira," he said just as pleasantly. "You look happy. Did you enjoy yourself in the workshop?"

"Absolutely," she answered with glee. "Thanks for giving me the opportunity, Vis. It was really great."

Vis smiled back. "You're very welcome, Keira," he said with a polite bow of the head. "And the guys didn't give you any more trouble?"

"No, they were really nice, and they actually asked me to help them with a few things." There was an adorable little twinkle of excitement on her face. "I think they really look up to me."

Vis looked at her with growing pride. "Well, it seems your father was right about you, Keira. Those guys are usually quite a handful, but it sounds like you've had a positive influence on them. I knew you'd fit in. Are you heading home now?"

"Yes."

"Ah, then I came down at just the right moment. Your father left a short while ago, but he asked me to give you this." He handed her a small electronic device. "It's a pass that'll let you get in here. This means you're free to come back and work in the hangar whenever you like. You're part of the team now. We could always use an extra set of skilled hands like yours, if you'll accept it."

Keira took the pass and her smile broadened even more until her face hurt. "Oh, thank you!" she said with enthusiasm. "Sure! I'm in!"

This was the cherry on the cake for her, the reward at the end of a difficult day. With this pass in hand, she would no longer need her father to gain her access to the building, and it made her feel proudly independent. She would have to thank him too when she got home, and tomorrow she would definitely come back again to continue with the work she'd begun.

She and Vis then amicably said their goodnights and parted ways, and as Keira rode the lift back up, her smile remained strong. It was a smile that she never thought she would have been capable of after such a sorrowful start to the day, but there it was, unable to be banished. At last, things were looking up in some way. She really felt like she was being of some use now, embracing her new job of repairing and maintaining the vehicles that could find and rescue Jak. It was strange, she now noticed, how little he had entered her thoughts during her time in the workshop. Though the painful grief of his loss was still deeply rooted and would remain there for some time to come, she knew, just knew, that it was only a matter of time now before he would be found, and she was going to be a part of that effort.

Don't worry Jak, she thought to herself. We're coming to find you. I'll make sure of it.

Meanwhile, in the dark and deserted streets of the slums, Azyma was nearing her home. She passed in and out of the shadows that grew from the buildings, some so black that they swallowed all feeling of motion and seemed to hold her in their clutches. Some stray glass cracked underfoot, and she knew that it must have come from the broken streetlight that was affixed to the upper storeys of the tall house on her right.

She glanced up at where it hung in the blackness, annoyed that it still had not been replaced after all this time. In fact most of the lights in this sector had received damage during the war, and there were now only a few that worked, and since the slums were the lowest quarter of the city, they were last on the list of priorities for repairs. Only the barrels of burning wood and garbage on nearly every street reliably lit her path. But she did not need the lights; she had lived here all of her life and knew her way instinctively, every corner and every winding alley.

Therefore she paid little attention to her journey as her implicit memory guided her feet, allowing her to focus on her thoughts and reflections. It had been a sad day for sure, and the pub had been forlorn and quiet throughout, but none more so than Tess, who had been gloomy and untalkative ever since the devastating news about the battle. Azyma felt sorry for her best friend. She could understand how she must feel, because she too had lost people who she was once close to, people who she could never see again, and Tess had been there for her to help her get through it. Now the roles had been reversed, and Azyma had tried to comfort Tess as best she knew how today. She owed it to her, after all. Keira's visit had been a help too, and hopefully the night and sleep would bring her the further healing she needed. What lay ahead after that, only time would tell.

A few corners away from her house, she heard a disturbance behind her that drew her out of her reflections and made her stop. She turned around to look to its source, facing a totally black, narrow jitty between two buildings, but the darkness was like a thick, obscuring cloak that hid all. She listened hard, but there was nothing else. Must have been just a stray animal, she thought dismissively, and she continued on her way unfazed.

She rounded the last corner into a dead-end alley, and her house lay straight ahead, a small, unattractive hovel squashed into the terraced row. The tall city wall loomed upwards behind it, blackening the night sky, and only a single barrel of burning refuse lit the way, crackling in the centre of the road. Its foul, ashy smell that she had long become accustomed to drifted away into the night air.

Passing beyond its glow and reaching her shadowy front door, she rummaged in her pockets for the keys, while at the same time squinting to find the lock. This never got any easier. When would they fix the lights here?

But suddenly, another disturbance stole her attention, and this time it was a different sound. It was unmistakeably footsteps, and they were getting louder and closer very quickly!

She gasped and froze, sensing fast incoming danger, but before she had time to even turn around again, something heavy crashed into her back. She hit the wall face-first, and was held there by large, cold hands, one against the side of her head, and the other tightly gripping her wrists behind her back so she couldn't struggle.

In a fearful panic, she tried to scream out for help, but was pressed into the wall even harder, squeezing all the air from her lungs, and her voice came out only as a constricted croak.

"Don't even try and shout!" whispered a dry voice in her ear. "If you do I'll knife you right now!"

Azyma breathed hard and uncomfortably, desperately trying to think of a way to fight back, but it was impossible against someone of such strength. What did they want from her? Was she being robbed? Or worse?

"Now, I know who you are," continued the voice, calmly but menacingly, "And you know who I am. Don't struggle, or you'll wish you hadn't."

Azyma listened in fear and confusion; she did not know any thugs or criminals, or at least any that she was aware of... but the voice did sound familiar somehow, in some distant, unidentifiable way. She tried to speak back, to tell him that he must have the wrong person, that she had no idea what he was talking about, but his grip was too tight and she could barely get out a whisper. His hand held against her face made it impossible to even turn her head and get a look at him.

"You have no idea how long it's taken me to find you," her attacker continued, his voice dripping with evil tones of revenge and satisfaction. "But I haven't forgotten, oh no. You can't say anything now, not about what you did. I'd be careful if I were you, very careful, or I may have to deal with you earlier than expected. Yeah, I've got plans for you. I could finish you off right now, and boy, would I love to. But I'm going to make you wait, make you suffer, not knowing when I'll next strike. And don't you think about running to those little friends of yours. Yeah, I know about them. You wouldn't want them to get hurt too."

By now, Azyma's terror was starting to whirl out of control, and she trembled and shook as tears leaked from her eyes. "No... please... I... ah!"

The unknown assailant crushed her harder into the wall until she felt like she became a part of it, and even breathing became impossible. The figure drew closer, and out of the corner of her tearful eye, she saw a tall shadow, and what she thought was something metal glinting in the firelight from the closest burning barrel. She feared for her life, crying into the wall, her heart screaming with every frantic beat. Now she could feel her attacker's breath in her ear.

"Consider this a warning of what's to come. Remember, I'll be watching you."

Then Azyma was forcefully thrown aside, and she fell with a yelp of pain. Her face scraped against the coarse texture of the wall, cutting her cheek open, and she hit the ground hard. She rolled over quickly at once, ready to defend herself or flee, but the attacker was already gone, disappeared into the night.

Azyma felt her heart pounding painfully, the wound on her cheek stung and dripped, and though she now seemed alone, she still felt far from safe. She scrambled on the ground, finding the keys that had been knocked from her hand, and hastily rushed into the protection of her home, locking the door tight behind her.

She hit the lights on and sank to the floor, so afraid that she was shivering. Who was that, and what did he mean by the things he'd said? She tried to think back to anything that could have caused this, anyone who would have reason to attack and threaten her like that, but her mind was whirling with so much dread that she could not think straight. What should she do?

The warmth of her blood trickled further down her face, making her even more aware of her own vulnerability. Pressing a hand to her bleeding cheek, she ran upstairs to her bedroom and rummaged through a certain drawer by her bed. There, buried under some clothes, unused since her days in the Underground, was a handgun. She drew it out, and making sure it was loaded, held it firmly in her clutches, afraid to ever let it go.