Finally it is here! I apologize for the tardy update but preparing for my college portfolio review (which went well), and work had pulled me away from finishing this chap. I couldn't sit and write without being interrupted or lulling off into sleep. Well, its long and I hope that makes it up to you.

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Chapter 8

Bitter. Sour. Stomach - churning. Throat - burning.

This didn't even begin to describe the entourage of disgusting feelings that his body was enduring. Having his head hunched over a toilet, hacking up the last of his mind, was hardly the image that the public imagined when they thought of such a prized racer. Yet here he was, hands clawing the cold tiles, jaw hanging like an exhausted animal, lips wet from the acidy bodily fluids that his stomach had rejected.

Sweat beaded along his bare chest, occasionally making his fingers slip and slide along the floor. A jackhammer was pounding him between his eyes. The room spun whenever he tried to get back up. Most likely, he'd have to fall asleep in his bathroom again.

This only happened when he dwelled too much on the things that had past. The thinking led to nightmares, and altogether, he ended up next to his toilet. He couldn't explain why his body had such a violent reaction, he just did. This had rarely happened since he managed to escape such deep thought within the past few years.

It was because of that wench, that Krew princess, that his mind was torturing him and his body felt the lashes.

With a deep, ragged breath, he threw himself to the wall beside the toilet. Wiping the sides of his mouth with his fingers, the room started to spin again, into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. He winced and closed his eyes. The coolness of the tiles behind his head relaxed the throbbing a bit. All he could do was curse her in his mind, for taking him back to where he didn't want to be.

It happened so long ago - too long ago. He didn't want to remember…

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"Quick! Into the closet," whispered a young, frantic woman, waving her hand desperately towards the hiding place in which he knew all too well.

Crawling into a pile of familiar clothing and items, cobwebs stretched its fingers in the corners to welcome him, and he huddled his knees. Quickly, the woman threw the clothing on top of him, careful to cover every possible inch of skin on him and nodded when satisfied. She slammed the door shut with a firm twist of the door before she ran to the kitchen.

He heard them. The dogs. They were barking, loudly demanding entrance at their front door. He could hear them clawing their nails into the wood and the grunts of the government soldiers passing their orders to one another.

A loud, violent knock was heard against the front door. A threatening voice howled and it seemed to echo in his ears, pound through his head and under his skin to make him tremble.

He knew he had to be still. He knew he had to be quiet. Don't move. Don't breath.

His heart stopped the moment the dogs grew louder and he heard the footsteps tapping along the tiled floors. They were inside. She had to let them in. She had no choice.

Chanting silently to himself, he closed his eyes, listening to his heart thrashing about. His nails dug into his knees, already raw from sitting on the hard floors and cleaning. It stung, but he didn't care.

"Where is he?" The rough male voice demanded.

He heard a small yelp, which may have been the man pulling her by the arm. He could sense that she hid the fear in her voice. He could picture her, looking the man straight in the eye with her green ones, a wave of raven hair shadowing one eye as the rest fell down her back. She'd ball her fists and stand firm no matter what, never showing the slightest sign that she was lying.

"There is no one. I told you," he heard her say to him.

She gasped with another forceful tug of her arm. The man's fingers dug into her skin more painfully and she winced. A sick smile crossed his shady features.

"Don't lie, girly. Someone said they saw him come in here sometime today. There's a child here," his bearded face drew closer to hers.

She shook her head, "Well, they saw wrong. No one is here. I'm by myself and my parents have been long dead. Does it look like I have enough to feed others?" She challenged him with a look.

The soldier eyed her suspiciously, glancing down at the dogs that were sniffing around the scraps of food laid out on the table. The animals seemed to cringe at the food, as if even they wouldn't eat it. The soldiers acknowledged this with cold humor in their eyes.

Without warning, the bearded soldier yanked the woman to him, bringing his face dangerously close to hers. His cynical smile stretched across his aged face as he inhaled the young girl's sweet smell. She shuddered with the new found threat of his face near the crook of her neck.

Rosetta…

Meanwhile, the boy in the closet tried to tame his sudden urge to burst out and grab the nearest weapon to attack that perverted soldier. He didn't like the idea of anyone touching his sister. No one should ever touch her that way. He hung his head, knowing at the moment, he had no choice but to ignore it. She would want it that way.

The gruff soldier grunted at her, drinking her figure in with his eyes before nodding to his subordinates. The rest of them retreated back outside and the man once again leaned toward Rosetta, his grip still painfully tight on her arm.

"If I hear you've been lying, you'll be sorry" He threw her arm down and walked out the front door. His hunting dog sniffed around one last time before it followed him out. Rosetta stood there letting her eyes burn on the back of the soldier's head. Her fingers gently rubbed the painful throbbing where his fingers had dug into her flesh.

After they had vanished into the streets to terrorize another family, Rosetta hurried to slam the door shut. With the sound of safety singing to his ears, Razer came falling out of the closet. His dirty, scabbed palms hitting the floor as he spilled out with clothes still hanging onto him.

"They're gone. The hunters…" That's what she liked to call them – child hunters. Soldiers from the government who'd scout homes for children to drag to the warehouses. Child labor was no crime here. It provoked many families to hide their children upon the usual search in fear that they may be taken away or even killed. If your child had a disability and was unable to work, they 'disposed' of him, labeling him as a waste of nine-month labor.

He'd seen them drag one away before. Poor boy lost a limb through a machinery accident and they pulled him out into the streets. The mother screamed and cried helplessly and the soldier only spat back at her, advising she'd forget him and have a child more 'useful'. He hadn't seen the kid since.

"What the hell, Rosetta?" Razer spat at his sister, earning him a shocked expression. "Why'd you let him touch you like that!"

"I'm sorry, I was under the impression that I didn't have much choice. I'd much rather be thrown around than have you taken away from me," she glared at him angrily, although she understood his reason for being so frustrated.

He was helpless. Too young to work outside like she did. He couldn't help her clean the sidewalks just to give themselves the scraps of food they survived on. He couldn't barge out of the closet and protect his big sister. He couldn't do anything. All he could do was clean up the house until she returned from a long day's work.

Rosetta sighed, now transforming her weary expression to a cheery one. Bringing her dusted fingertips to his dark, messy hair, she patted him consolingly.

"I think a time like this calls for some food, huh?"

Razer nodded, his lips pursing with hidden frustration still visible. The idea of a meal was supposed to lighten the moment, but upon walking to the round table, it only made things more depressing. There, lying on two cracked plates, were two small pieces of meat, brown at the edges, and green peas scattering about.

They couldn't have more. There wasn't enough money for more. There wasn't enough food in the market for more. The government made sure of that. They rationed everything from the peas on your plate to the squares of toilet paper you used. You had to make of what you had.

Razer poked his fork into the green orbs on his plate, his face slumped into his palm. Rosetta couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head upon the sight of him.

"What's wrong?" Razer's eyes glanced up at her in curiosity. Rosetta calmed her laughter, placing her fingertips to her lips.

She was beautiful, Razer thought. Although her hands were cut and her cheeks stained with dirt, she was the most precious thing in the world. She was all he had and he couldn't remember what his parents were like. At sixteen, four years older than he, there was no presence more warming than hers. For all he knew, Rosetta may not have even been his real sister, but he would never know, nor would he ever question it.

She was his diamond in the rough. No matter how black the world was, she was the glimmering jewel to set light to it.

"Nothing. You just look so stubborn. It's amusing," Rosetta poked the end of his nose with her fingertip and he blinked in reaction.

Razer responded with a tip of his tongue protruding from his mischievous lips. She continued to laugh.

"So what will it be today? Any cuisine in mind, young master?" Rosetta batted her eyelashes at him. They liked to play this game, the one where they'd pretend they were rich and had luxurious dishes to indulge in.

"Pasta as a main dish sounds quite delightful, wouldn't you say?" Razer played along, twirling his fork in his plate, intertwining imaginary noodles.

Rosetta nodded in agreement, "Yes, I agree. Pasta it is. We wouldn't want to disappoint our young Lord, now would we?"

Razer wrinkled his nose. "I hate it when I'm the Lord. Why can't I serve you instead?"

Rosetta poked her fork into her peas, giving him a cocky grin. "Because I'm the oldest and the oldest decides everything".

Razer mumbled under his breath as he took a bite into his bland food. He tried to imagine it as pasta, but it wasn't working as well as it used to when he was younger. After a few minutes of silence, Rosetta took notice of the glum look on her brother's face.

"Things will get better, you know. One day, you will be fine dining, drinking wine and having all the lady fans swarming about you".

Razer brought his gaze to her face, which seemed to be staring into the distance somewhere. It was as if her eyes were staring into a dream world that only she could see.

"I doubt that," Razer grumbled, looking away from her. "I can't even do anything for you so I doubt I could ever do anything for myself".

Her motherly touch on his hand caught his attention. His cheeks flushed red as she patted his hand on the table.

"I will repay you for all you've done. You can count on that," Razer said in a firm, almost unrelenting tone, despite the soft touch on his knuckles. He was serious. She could see the burn in his eyes.

"All I want - is for you to live a happy life. Even if I have to sacrifice my own" Rosetta's eyes glowed with sentiment. Her head dipped to the side and Razer only turned his palm over to pinch her fingers in his.

"You won't have to. I'll only be happy when you are," his eyes blazing with ambition must've been the first sign that he was becoming a man.

If only…he had stayed a child forever.

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He didn't remember how it happened. He didn't remember what led him there. Somehow, fate met curiosity in a venture into the streets one late afternoon. His sister had been gone all day, and he had a feeling that she wouldn't return until the sun came up again. At fifteen, Razer was tiring of the routine life he was living and was looking for some excitement to arouse him outside.

What he found, would change his life forever.

Wandering into alleyways and stumbling into a deep stairway led him to an undiscovered grotto – or what he deemed was undiscovered. Upon the sight of the hidden doorway, leading deeper into the ground, he lit up with the idea of taking his sister here for whenever they wanted to get away from life. No one would ever find it. Perhaps that was why he found what he did there.

Faintly in the distance, a rumble of voices merged to create a roar, a cheer maybe. His nostrils flared to the odor of motor oil and burning rubber. For some reason, it was pleasure in a scent.

Screeching tires called to his ears that lifted to follow the sound. As he crept closer, a light at the end of the grotto caught his eyes. As he drew nearer, the sounds grew louder and the smells stronger.

Finally, as he came upon a few tanks of fuel piled up by an exit of some sort, he took shelter behind their shadows. What his eyes feasted upon made them wide in their sockets.

The roar belonged to a crowd of men, obviously wealthy, with golden glasses and fur-coated women on their arms. Swiveling their hats into the air, they yelled and grunted. The women wore rouge of all colors and squeezed long cigarettes between their painted lips. The men stood clapping, money waving in their hands.

Razer was astounded by the sight. A large racetrack lay out before him, simple and round, carved out of clumps of dirt. Shiny metal glimmered in the light as the few vehicles zooming down the tracks swerved through the dirt. Sending brown spatters into the air and smoke curling behind their wheels, it was the most intoxicating sight he had ever seen.

He had heard of this. Combat Racing, they called it. And it was illegal in this country.

His jaw hung open as he watched the race. Numerous expensive cars dashing by, smoking the air and making the crowd roar louder. Fire branching into explosions on the far end and drivers with smug, blood streaked faces drove by with a look of accomplishment.

He was so pulled in by the excitement of it all, he failed to realize half his body was peeking out from his hiding place into the light. His fingers planted into the mud as his eyes were glued to the race and drunk on the sounds and smells surrounding him.

He was oblivious to the presence approaching him.

"See something you like, boy?"

Razer gasped, his eyes wide with panic as he shriveled back into the shadows in fear. His eyes met with the charcoal-grey ones of a middle-aged man, puffing on a thick foreign cigar. His gray hairs hung to the sides of his round head, trying to fight the age that was pulling them off his scalp. His cheeks were plump and his goatee was curly and stretched to his ears. Judging by the name brand suit, and the golden cigarette case in his front pocket, he too, was wealthy.

"It's alright, don't be alarmed," the stranger comforted him, encouraging him to come back into the light. Tightening a suspicious brow at the man, Razer allowed himself to be coaxed back into the light.

The man looked down at him, flicking his cigar into the mud and stubbing out its embers with his heel. "You look like a man in need of a job".

Razer's interest was pecked, and so he drew nearer. Noticing his attention on him, the man continued, "See that beauty over there?"

Razer followed his gaze to a black vehicle parked in the tracks. The race was over and that vehicle was the winner. The edges were sharp, the metal was smooth. It was by far the most daring and gorgeous car out there.

"It's a Havoc 1980, with horsepower like you'd never believe. That right there is a special model, monster and class in a vehicle," Razer's eyes bulged in awe and wonder as he bopped his head at the man's words, almost puppet-like.

The stranger grinned, "How would you like to get your hands on that? We can start you off just cleaning it up after races and see what we can do from there. I'm sure you're in need of the money".

Razer fluttered his eyes up at the man. Why was he being so kind to him? Why was he offering him this kind of opportunity on the spot without even knowing him? There had to be a catch. Something in the man's grey, icy glare told him this wasn't simply an act of charity.

Razer stood up from the ground, wiping his hands on the front of his slacks. His body was lean and tall, his once young, round features now transforming into sharper curves. His jaw line was strong, his shoulders broadening with age. As fascinated as he was with the hidden underground track, he was no fool.

"Why me?" His emerald eyes showed drive, desire, and an ambition to reach beyond a world he was closed off from.

The stranger laughed. "Because you only have two options. Seeing that you came upon this rather secretive place by accident and only few people know of this, it would be deadly to just let you wander off without purpose. Besides, you'd rather be useful then dead wouldn't you?"

Razer nodded in understanding. Like they say, curiosity killed the cat. He wasn't supposed to find this place but since he did, it was either become of use to them or they would be sure to 'silence' him from spilling the whereabouts of this unlawful event.

"Good. They refer to me as Lord Burgra here. I conduct these races with a few others so that the wealthy can come down and satisfy their blood lusts. Disgusting people, the rich are, getting joy from watching peasants kill each other like animals out on the tracks just to get a little cash in their pockets and enjoy some competition. Even many of the drivers come for the kills. They like the idea of danger lurking around the corners. Cruel sport, but it pays".

Leading Razer into the light with a palm on his shoulder, they stepped into the sidelines. Some of the fanatics in the crowd took notice of the dirty, young man with cringes of disapproval and disgust, others with devilish smirks.

He inhaled deeply, taking in the pungent scent of fuel being pumped. His eyes were scratchy from the dusty air. He could almost imagine what it must've felt like to grip his hands onto that leather steering wheel and go faster than the speed of light. The feeling must've been exhilarating, although fatal.

Burgra shook his shoulder with a husky laugh. His open palm cut through the air as if to show him another side, where the grass was greener. Razer couldn't help but rub his knuckles with anticipation.

"Welcome to the games, my boy. This is where you'll become a man".

And with that, he handed Razer his very first cigarette…

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"Rosetta!"

"Brother, where are you? Razer!" His sister's voice shrieked with excitement the instant he returned home. It was like they were kids again, overflowing with joy and practically frolicking across the floor.

"What? What's the matter?" Razer called out, arms flailing about to meet his sister's across the small three-room dwelling in which they called home.

Delicate fingers ran to cling the sides of his arms, shaking them about as she smiled at him madly. Razer was deeply disturbed. Never had he seen his sister this excited about something.

"We'll never have to worry about money again!" she cried up at her brother. Although he was younger, in time he did indeed grow taller than she.

Razer's eyes enlarged with surprise. Did she know about what happened in that hidden grotto? Had she somehow found out before he could tell her? Was that why she was bursting with happiness, because now her brother could put in his equal share of funds by cleaning up cars? He wasn't offered much pay, but considering the dangerous circumstances, he had no choice but to agree to Lord Burgra's proposition – at least for the time being.

"I've been offered a new job! I was cleaning the sidewalks, like I always do, and this man walked by and offered me a job! We won't have to eats peas anymore!" Her small hands shook him vigorously, as if shaking would deepen his belief in her.

Razer failed to notice it at first, but upon looking at her fingers in his arms, her nails were painted nicely in a plum rose color. He blinked and mentally slapped himself. There were other things he didn't notice at first, either. A tint of rouge highlighted her cheeks and a touch of gloss glistened on her lips. Her hair had been combed and shone radiantly in the dim light glowing from the candles that lit their home.

Razer was speechless. His head pulled to the side as he stared. The pale moonlight on her creamy skin only complimented her now colored face. She was as radiant as ever – and it wasn't the makeup. It was her bright smile.

To be honest, as much as her beaming smile was the loveliest thing he set eyes on for years, he silently wished she were smiling because of him. Silently, he wished it were he that was announcing such news and making her happy.

"Razer?" Her grip on his arms had now softened, her large eyes looking up at him with concern.

He shook his head and regained his composure. He hadn't realized that he was standing there, staring blankly like a dead fish while she ranted on about her good news. He forced on a gentle smile as he brought his fingers to her black mane. Running them through her bangs affectionately, he laughed.

"That's wonderful, Rosetta. I couldn't be happier," his voice was mild and unconvincing. Her eyes squinted at his in doubt, but the sorrow in them somehow told her not to question it.

She reached up to tangle her fingers with his, "We're okay now. I told you, things were going to get better someday".

He bopped his head, "Seems you lived up to your word". He released his hand from her grasp to ruffle her head and poke a finger into her forehead. She stared at him, mouth slightly parted and expression clearly confused.

"Razer? Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

"Not at all. So what is this job exactly? Have they paid you already?" His brows gestured towards the sudden change in her appearance. Her face was not only clean but made up. Her cheeks reddened and she looked to the floor shyly.

"W-Well, the man decided that I needed to look more presentable for the position, and so he accompanied me to get manicured and pedicure. Oh Razer, it was wonderful. I've never painted my nails before!"

His smile was wide, this time genuine. His head fell back in laughter. When had he ever seen his sister act so girlish? With the lives they had – she hadn't much choice but to grow into a woman just so that she could look after him. Now, here she was, wearing pretty lip-gloss and twirling strands of her hair in her fingertips.

"That's great-" he sat in one of their wooden chairs tucked into their round kitchen table. She eagerly followed and sat across from him. A palm flattened onto his smirking lips, trying to contain the amusement from watching her bounce in the chair.

"So what exactly does this position entail, exactly? You still haven't told me"

"Oh, well um-" Suddenly she looked away again, this time not shyly. He could swear he saw a flicker of guilt cross over her features. "Well, he works in this place called The Reizend and he's in the entertainment business. I'll probably be doing some backstage work until I can audition for the stage". Her brother continued to nod his head as he listened, soaking in her every word and expression. Teeth bit down on her bottom lip nervously, "The only thing – is that it's a night shift job".

"Oh – oh, I see," He wasn't sure how to respond to that. He wasn't crazy about the idea of his sister working during such dark hours but then again, she was older than he and surely she knew what she was doing. After seeing her fluttering through the room to him, he wouldn't whisper a word to ruin her moment.

"I apologize. That must worry you," her folded hands clasped coyly in her lap.

Biting the inside of his cheek prevented him from spilling the truth to his now floating angel. "Not at all. I'm happy for you. If you ever need me to come by and pick you up, I'll be there at the snap of your fingers. That's what brothers are for".

Her hands waved in front of her, her rump hopping up from the chair before settling back down. "No, that won't be necessary. I'll be fine".

"Are you sure?" Razer pushed and she bopped her head briskly.

"Yes, yes, I'll be fine. If anything comes up, I'll let you know," a gentle smile spread across her lips and he returned it with one of his own.

A yawn met her smiling lips and Razer caught one in his. Both yawning and pressing their hands to their mouths, Rosetta grinned. "I think now it would be best to sleep. I have to start my new job tomorrow".

Razer nodded in agreement and they followed one another to the futons that lay on their floor in the next room. Cotton peeked out from various rips and tears in their sheets, a deep shade of russet. Slipping their bodies in, they were cloaked into the heat of the dusty floor and the comfort of sleep welcomed their tired eyes.

"Good night, Razer," she whispered across from her where her brother lay. Her face nuzzled into the folded sheet in which surrogated as a pillow.

"Good night, Rosetta…"

As he watched her lashes fall heavily to meet her cheekbones, he couldn't help the warmth that flooded his heart. A synch of guilt pecked at him. As much as he wanted to tell her about his 'new job', he decided it would be best to keep it to himself for now. For now, he'd let her enjoy the spotlight, let her continue her role as big sister.

In the meantime. he'd start his new job as well, saving whatever he could from the money given to him. Shadowing himself in secret, he'd have to support them without her knowing. Even though he wished he could tell her about his new role in their small pair of a family, somehow he just couldn't stand to steal her joy.

Emerald eyes lowered over the sleeping features on her face, lips parted with small breathy sighs and body heaving with peaceful, even breaths.

Sleep well, Rosetta. Your little brother will be here to take care of you, whether you know it or not.

Two months had passed since that night. Wordlessly, they'd part ways as the sun would begin to set over the horizon. She'd depart to her new job as he would his. He would make sure only to step out once she was out of sight so that he could make off secretively without suspicion. By the time they'd both return to their small, rotting home, they were both too tired to share too much of a deep conversation.

He did see an improvement in their meals, now consisting of more than vegetables and a small piece of meat. Now there were various kinds of meats, desserts and one afternoon she surprised him with a serving of pasta, just as he used to fantasize about when he was a child.

Drunk on their happiness of their now more filling meals, they seemed to forget to question each other's business. Neither asked what had taken their time at night or why the other was so tired during the day. Neither asked how much or when they were paid. Although both held their hidden suspicions from viewing their tired eyes and vague details of their night's events, neither would dare speak of it further than needed.

His presence at the underground track was becoming more eminent as the days passed. Passer bys took notice in the shine of the metal and the tightness in the bolts of every vehicle he handled. He was a fast learner, and within two months, he was already familiar with everything from tune-ups to oil changes. He could tell a car's year and model just by looking at it and could tell if it was modified by taking a look beneath the hood. He had become a favorite of the other handy men that hung loose in the sidelines, ingesting the tire smoke in the air and the smoke from their cigarettes.

From time to time, he was even allowed privilege to drive damaged vehicles from the tracks into the garage. Soon enough, he had forgotten about the blackmail that obligated him into this unlawful job. He had forgotten about the little pay. The blackened grease smoothing along his fingers and the sweat dripping down his spine was enough to forget.

It seemed that Lord Burgra took notice in this boy's transformation, from the way his eyes solemnly studied the races to the coolness in his expression when he wiped the blood streaks from the windows. He was soaking in this atmosphere, taking it into his blood as if he belonged there all along. Content that the kid had indeed kept his mouth shut, as well as provided necessary aid to the races, Lord Burgra was stricken with an idea he was sure would make Razer's day.

One early evening, Burgra made his way towards his new apprentice. His knees were embedded in the mud and soot spotted his black hair hovering over his fresh masculine features. His fingers worked diligently on the wrench that unscrewed the tire from one of the racing vehicles. His brows deepened with concentration as he failed to notice Burgra's presence upon him.

"Nice shirt, kid," with a curled smile to match the streak of nicotine from his lips, Lord Burgra lowered his eyes to meet Razer's.

Razer looked up from the ground, granting his boss a smirk before turning back to his work on the tires. "My sister bought it for me". The burgundy shirt was tied around his waist carefully, exposing his bare chest which was beginning to chisel from all the hard labor he endured within the recent times.

"Nice, very nice," Burgra cleared his throat rather gruffly, signaling Razer to cease his work and bring his attention to him. Catching the hint, Razer wiped his black hands with a nearby towel and stood up to lean against the door of the vehicle.

Burgra offered him a smoke and Razer accepted. Taking the light to the fix resting on the side of his lips, he breathed in the taste as soon as it ignited.

He had changed so much within such a short amount of time. From the new bulging muscles and freshly sharp curves in his jaw, he proved to be an eyesore for the young, rich women who draped the betters' arms. His hands on experience taught him the in and outs of every vehicle and how to drive it. The tongue of the wealthy had begun to rub off on him, earning him a more educated tone of speaking. He was almost a different person completely.

The kid had it in him, burning desire, and guts. It was all Burgra needed for his next proposition.

"Say kid, notice anything about our audience lately?"

Razer's tongue watered with the nicotine clinging to his taste buds. With a deep exhale, he gave Burgra a baffled expression. "What do you mean, my Lord?"

"The numbers, they've been lowering lately. Ever since the thriving competition has slowly died off or quit with their tails between their legs, there hasn't been much excitement for the betters". Razer nodded in understanding.

"So, as you can imagine, our funds haven't been as abundant, considering that our guests are beginning to lose interest. We need something to bring them back".

"What do you suggest, my Lord? After all, Macen is a rather intimidating driver. Not many are willing to rival his power". Macen was the current champion, the fastest, one of the most conniving competitors in the races. He was the owner of the black Havoc in which Razer took pride in tending to.

Razer caught the devious glow in Lord Burgra's eyes as they bored into him with new meaning. It made him regret asking his question.

"Why, we need a new driver, of course," a shady smile stretched across Burgra's plump face. A flash of gold glimmering on the side of his teeth.

Razer blinked in disbelief. Him? Go against Macen? That was suicide. As much as he had watched the races and learned to handle the heaviness of their steering wheels, he wasn't sure he was ready to swap dirt with the most gutless racer on the track.

He also took to Macen as a role model figure. He was the one gracious enough to show him the ropes and how to drive. It was he that sat by him and instructed him just how to step on the gas and how to grip the steering wheel. Despite the blood lust that crossed Macen's face on the tracks, he was rather taken to the idea of guiding Razer into the world of Combat Racing. Whenever he'd run out of smokes, Macen was ready with a spare pack to throw his way, a cocky grin playing on his face.

"My Lord – are you sure that is a wise choice?" Razer could barely imagine himself sparking tires with the white-haired racer. He dared not to picture Macen's deep toffee eyes firing into him with deadly intentions. The thought made his fingers cut into his palms.

"Why, considering how well you've settled into these events, have you not desired to get into a vehicle of your own?"

"Y-yes, I have, my Lord. Of course". Just not against Macen.

Burgra laughed heartily and threw an open palm onto Razer's naked shoulder. With a squeeze of both reassurance that was rather convincing by the slightly painful pressure of it, Burgra met his gaze with his icy one once again. The same gaze that he came across when he first met him that told him he had no choice.

"Good, good. Well, now's your chance, my boy. I will expect you will pick up rather quickly". He gave a sly wink to Razer and he only smiled awkwardly in return.

His fists tightened at his sides and as he watched Lord Burgra walk away, the cold blood began to quake in his bones. Just as Razer was about to settle into the mud to resume his duties, Lord Burgra called back to him.

"After you're done with that tire, please retire for the night. I want you ready and able for tomorrow, where we will begin training you. Be ready here mid-afternoon".

Razer nodded, not one to dare object to his boss. He shook his head once Burgra vanished from view, contemplating on the possible grave he had dug himself into. As much as the idea of racing made his fingers tick and his wrists pulse, racing against Macen was suicide, as well as slight betrayal. He didn't want to race up against him – a part of him discreetly hoped to race beside him one day, as a team. Now he'd be up against him just to satisfy their audience and add fat to Burgra's pockets.

Walking across the cobblestone streets of his country that night, underneath the looming indigo veil, it provided him with much reflection time, although not enough. He had finally decided that he'd tell his sister of his recent doings. He'd be home earlier than usual, possibly run into her since she'd usually arrive before him on a usual work shift. The thought comforted him, yearning to be thrown into the homey setting just to put his mind at ease.

What he'd unravel when he got there though would be something entirely different than what he expected.

The sun was waiting behind the clouds already, awaiting its turn to trade with the sinking moon. Usually when he arrived, the sun was already peeking and announcing a new day with orange highlights. The streets were deserted and only the rats were heard. Every now and then, a group of soldiers stomped in unison down the streets, glaring their intimidating stares over their surroundings before moving onto another area.

Walking onto the narrow shift of concrete in which his home resided, he was glad his front door was off the busy street. Sometimes it was a convenience to be so hidden.

Upon entering his doorway quietly, he found darkness greeting his eyes. He trudged silently, intending that if his sister was already here and asleep, that he would not wake her. However, as he trudged deeper towards their bedroom, he found just the opposite.

It seemed that she hadn't heard him come in. As he brought his ear closer, he picked up on the faint cries of what seemed to be constricted sobs. Adjusting his sight to the darkness around him, he could see her figure, slumped over in the sheets. She sat up, hands squeezing onto her forearms as she rocked back and forth.

Fear and worry gripped his heart. Had she always been this way and he never took notice? What was causing this painful turmoil in his sister? Had something else happened that may have provoked her to cry? Maybe she wasn't hiding, but awaiting his arrival to comfort her instead?

The creak on the wooden floors announcing his presence answered his last question. Her body jumped and he heard her gasp with surprise, rushing to grind her fists against her cheeks to wipe the last remaining tears. Razer rushed forward, not minding to his dirty attire and sticky bare body.

"Rosetta, what's wrong?" He reached out to grab her arms but she jumped again. Razer pulled his hands back, half in fear and half in shock. He was stunned at her reaction to him suddenly, as if his touch was an omen to her skin.

Rosetta looked away in shame, bringing a loose hair to re-curl itself behind her ear. They sat in silence for a moment before Razer reached out again in attempt to comfort her.

This time, she let him, although her squeezing body showed her hesitation. His hand settled on her shoulder as he tried to make out her expression in the dark. She kept her face hidden from him. This was not like her. This was not the big sister he knew. Always cheery, always optimistic and so loving to the touch. It frightened him.

Before he could question her again, her face spun to him in anger. Her face wrenching in newfound rage and his hand was pushed off by hers. "What are you doing home so early?"

Razer was taken back. Her tone was so demanding. So full of anger and cold. It made him wonder if he had done something wrong in seeing her like this. Had he done her wrong by reaching out to her? Had he done wrong by coming home earlier than usual?

"I-" he cleared his throat, "My job-".

"Your job? You have a job?"

"My job, yes, my boss let me take leave earlier for the night," he spared her the small detail of the 'promotion' that Burgra had offered. He almost wanted to smile at her surprise. What had she thought he was doing during all those nights he wasn't here? Had she not pondered his newly athletic shape or the soot on his clothing? Had she not noticed the change in his tongue or the fact that he returned home just as tired as she, maybe more so?

In an instant, something struck Razer, knowing she was trying to steer away from her own business so take off the heated attention of his discovery. "Wait- why are you crying?"

"I- don't know what you're talking about, Razer. I am fine now; what's this job of yours?"

Razer wouldn't stand for it. He would win this one. Taking hold of her arms more firmly, he shook her, "Why were you crying?". This time his tone was just as angry and demanding as hers before. His voice was now deep and enriched with his accent. She had never took notice of it until that very moment.

Rosetta looked away, bringing her pleading palms to push his chest away. Upon coming in contact with the sweat and dirt on his chest, she turned to rub the moisture in her fingers. She looked up to meet her brother's eyes in the darkness. Who was this man? What had he become lately that she failed to become aware of? His breath – smelled of nicotine. His hands and body, full of dirt and grease. Her gaze trembled as he caught it in his.

In seconds, her will was broken and tears welled up in her lashes. "Razer I- I can't tell you. I just can't!"

"Rosetta, you need to. I need to know," Razer forced his eyes on hers, trying to persuade her to reveal her secrets.

His voice softened into a whisper, his anger subsiding with the moment. Rosetta continued to sob and it broke his heart. Leaning into his chest, Razer welcomed her into embrace. As dirty as he was, as disgusting as he must've felt to her, she didn't seem to mind. He stroked her hair compassionately as her tears trickled down his chest.

As time wore on, a new feeling numbed him. He was stunned at the realization of what the electricity running through his body meant. Here was his sister, who had loved and raised him, sobbing in his arms helplessly and meanwhile, his woman- deprived body was reacting in a way that was inappropriate.

His fingers tightened on her back as if to prevent any further unwanted movements. The itch to hold her closer and bring his lips to her was scolded in his mind. What was he thinking? Was he an animal? A man who couldn't control his ripe sexual urges?

With the nature of the way he grew up, he hadn't had the time to lay eyes on a woman and 'crush' on her, nor satisfy any lusty intents. The only woman he had ever admired and thought beautiful was the one in his arms. Was it wrong to think in such a way? Had his love for her been misguided all along?

Feeling ashamed of himself, Razer bit down on his cheek. The salty taste of his own blood and the pain helped to rid the thoughts in his mind. Thankfully, his sister spoke before he could dwell any longer on the sin tugging at him.

"Razer?"

"Hmm?" He tried to speak as little as possible.

To make matters worse, Rosetta nuzzled her damp cheeks into his chest more. He felt a lump in his throat swell as he swallowed. She could feel his voice rumble when he responded and his husky whisper eased her cries. The combination of his arms and the hard crying only made her tired.

"I'll tell you tomorrow okay? I promise you. Then we can both discuss all the things that haven't been touched upon. I have much to tell you. Much that I fear you will hate me for," her nails gingerly drew on his chest and his heartbeat fastened.

"Rosetta, I can never hate you. You're my sister and I will always be the one to watch over you as you have done for me," he was trying to convince himself as well as Rosetta. The word 'sister' emphasized and repeated in his mind.

She nodded before her body became heavy against his. In moments, he realized she had fallen asleep. He could not move in fear that he'd only wake her up. Looking down at her black hair against his chest, the pale light pooling from the window onto her shoulders, he couldn't help but not want to wake her.

Sighing in defeat, he cautiously leaned back to lay against the futon. Her head comfortably fitted beneath his arm, resting her cheek on the side of his chest. He'd go to hell for this, he thought.

She was at peace now, and although she was no longer troubled, he was still in disarray. He still hadn't told her about the job he was threatened into and the new promotion that may very well take his life if not carried out successfully. Mental knives stabbed at him for the strange male urges washing over his body. Also the thought of why she was crying dragged on in him.

For some reason, he had a feeling that she wouldn't tell all as she said she would. Because of this, he had silently agreed with himself that he'd follow her the next night if necessary – follow her into a world where he was blocked off from with vague detail. Perhaps then – he'd finally discover who his sister was and always has been. Maybe then – they would both be bathed into the light where they'd never have to hide anything from one another again.

Unfortunately he hadn't known that was too much to hope for…

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Okay! I know what you guys are thinking. Renji! W-what are you thinking? What twisted things have come to mind in the time you've taken to update? Don't worry, I promise I do not write things without reason. ::evil grin::

Sorry for the Rayn absence. She will reappear in the next chap.

Note to my beta-reader: Your sleepy beta was way better than my sleepy writing. I was writing things like kitchen round table instead of round kitchen table. Shame on me. Thanks for making my chap English since it was tired gibberish and blahs when it got to you Lol.