This is a nice little fic about what happens to Mizo's team of racers after the crime boss kicks the bucket. This will be told mostly from Shiv's and Razer's POV. Also, though the game was kind of unclear on this, I'm assuming that Kleiver was working for Mizo. R&R, and enjoy!

I don't own any characters in this story, though I may decide to add some OCs.

Chapter One: Gather Round

Shiv pushed his way through the bar to the old table by the aquarium. There were still cracks in the glass from the night when it all began. He could almost picture the ottsel on the table, bragging of his friend Jak's driving skills. He remembered Mizo's exact orders: "Act friendly with him. Offer him a drink of the special concoction, and bam, Krew's mascot is out of the way." Things had been going fine until Razer decided to take matters into his own hands. He shoved off the Mr. Nice Guy façade and went for something a little more dangerous, pulling out a knife and scaring the hell out of the little guy. They may have gotten him to drink the stuff if Razer hadn't done that, but no. Razer had to act too fast and blow the whole thing. Then, before they knew it, Jak had burst through the window and was zooming out of the bar with his ottsel friend in tow.

This memory made Shiv wonder what he was even doing here. Mizo was dead. With no boss, Shiv had no work. He had gotten by these past few months on winning a few races and doing some dirty work for crime bosses here and there, but nothing could replace the paycheck Mizo had offered.

Razer, however, had promised to do just that: replace Mizo. Using the communicators given to them by Mizo which no one had bothered to throw away, Razer contacted all the members of Mizo's old racing team. He told them to meet him at the bar in Kras City. So, against every fiber of his being, Shiv had come here today, to meet the snobby racer that had possibly screwed up their whole operation.

Shiv ordered a drink from the barkeep. He chugged it down in one gulp, then spun his stool around. He looked around, trying to spot one of his old teammates. One of them caught his eye. It was the one who was particularly hard to miss: UR-86. The Krimzon Guard Racing Bot looked menacing as ever. He towered over all the other bar patrons by about a foot or two. Shiv walked over to the imposing robot and said, "Well, if it isn't my favorite bucket of bolts. How ya been, 86?"

UR-86 made several metallic beeping noises.

"What was that?" asked Shiv.

More beeping noises, this time slower and more enunciated.

"Can't quite understand ya, big guy."

"He said, 'Horrible. I've been stuck on garbage collecting duty.'" Edje, sitting on the other side of the table, got up and walked over to Shiv. "I thought you could understand him before."

Shiv smirked. "I can. I just like messing with him." He surveyed the table. The whole gang was there, minus one: UR-86, Edje, Cutter, and Kleiver. "Hello, everyone. How's life been treating you?"

Kleiver grinned. "How'dya think, Shiv? We're out of a job. We've been livin' offa the scraps of the big-timers, we have. 86 is probably makin' more than us on that garbage hooey of his."

Cutter looked at his nails and said, "I hope you know that's redundant."

Kleiver raised an eyebrow. "Why's that, Mask Boy?"

Cutter rolled his eyes. "Garbage and hooey mean the same thing. Of course, only I would know that, since I'm the only one here who isn't a total idiot."

Shiv punched Cutter on the shoulder. "Still arrogant as ever, ey Cutter?" He took a seat in the booth with the rest of them and glanced around the bar. "So where's that pompous jackass Razer?"

"Not here yet," said UR-86, swerving his head from side to side. "We've been waiting for nearly an hour now. He did say 5:00, right?"

Edje nodded. "Guess he just enjoys being 'fashionably late.'"

Shiv snickered as Edje sat back down. "You think he won't show?"

"What would he have to gain from standing us up?" said Cutter. "Sure, he'd have played the perfect practical joke, but that's not Razer's style. Mark my words, Razer will show up. If I know him, he has something planned. And I know him pretty well."

Shiv nodded. Cutter's words made sense. Razer wasn't one to blow off a date. He was coming all right, just two hours late. 'Fashionably late.' He, himself, had shown up late. It was a wonder he had come at all.

"You guys catch that Deathmatch in the dunes last week?" said Kleiver, changing the subject.

Edje groaned. "Yeah, I saw it. Jak's team won by…what was it…fifteen points?"

Kleiver laughed. "Tough little buggers, aren't they? The network keeps boostin' up the total kills for them events. Seems the crowd wants more action." He sighed. "Who knew they could beat a bunch of veterans like us?"

"Precisely what I was thinking, dear Kleiver," said an accented voice from behind him. Shiv knew who it was before he had turned around.

"Nice of you to show up," said Shiv, facing the robed figure of Razer.

"Ditto," said Razer, winking. "Now, I'm sure you know why you're here." He walked around to the front of the table to get a clear view of everyone. "I've a proposition for you. The job, of course, is racing. If you choose to collaborate, I'll double, no, triple the paycheck Mizo gave you. And to boot, no one will beat you in racing again for at least ten years, by which time you will probably have retired."

"And what, exactly, makes you so sure of this?" asked Cutter.

"Oh, I have my ways," Razer replied. "If you wish to further pursue my little 'offering,' you'll have to meet me at my new racing garage." His eyes looked left and right. Then, he tossed five business cards onto the table. "Here is the address. Go there at the indicated time. Don't be late, now," he said, walking off.

The group surveyed the cards with a spark of interest. This deal was just enticing enough to follow. If Razer could keep them at the top of the charts for ten years with a tripled paycheck, maybe the proposition was at least worth checking out.

Shiv looked over to UR-86. "Yo, 86, can you find this place on the map?"

UR-86 read the card, then lifted up his arm and pressed a few buttons. What came up was a 3D map of Kras City. He pressed a few more buttons, and the map zoomed in on a flashing red dot. "Strange," said UR-86, scratching his steel chin.

"What's up?" asked Edje, standing up and taking a look at the map.

"According to this," said UR-86, "that location doesn't exist. If it did, this is where it would be. But as you can see, the red dot is pointing to a wall."

Shiv rolled his eyes. "I knew it. He's tricking us." He looked over to Cutter. "Or do you think he has something else planned?"

Cutter shrugged. "It's worth checking out. Even if he is lying, we've got nothing better to do. It could be worth the trip."

"Or," said UR-86, "it could cost us our lives."

The others stared at the Racing Bot as if he had sprouted another head. Which, in 86's case, wouldn't look too strange in the long run.

"Think about it," said UR-86, stepping to the front of the table. "What if, for one reason or another, Razer wants us dead? We could be walking right into a trap."

Kleiver nodded. "Buckethead has a point. Razer could just be tryin' to skin our hides."

"But why would he want us dead?" asked Edje, looking around the table for an answer.

Shiv thought it over and shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "One thing's for sure, though: that guy's a nutcase, and a dangerous nutcase at that. If we're gonna show up, we'd better go prepared."

Cutter nodded. "Agreed. We'll need weapons, though."

Kleiver rubbed his hands together. "I'm sure I can get me paws on some back in ol' Spargus City. You leave the artillery to me, mates."

"Great," said Shiv. He got up and looked around the table. "We don't know what Razer's up to, so we can't really plan ahead. I think we should just go in and see what he's up to. If he wants to kill us, shoot him and get the hell out. If not, well…" He smirked. "We may just be back in business."

The others smiled and nodded. They liked the sound of that. If Razer wasn't bluffing, they could be the star racers they had once been. Though it was a pretty big "if", they liked their chances. Back in business…Yeah, that sounded nice.

What'ya think so far? Review, please. It'll probably get better later on.