One word. Street racing. I regret nothing.

Enjoy. :)

Chapter One

It is the low rumble of Latino music growing much louder that coaxes him out of his reverie. Something powerful and filled with so much bass his chest seems to vibrate with each beat; when he looks up, the objects in his rearview shake as well.

He runs his palm over the leather gear shift and purses his lips. The sharp scent of oil and nitrous is almost palpable in the air, making him a bit heady and more than edgy; if they could only get this over and done with so that he could get his money and leave.

Sighing harshly, he unfolds himself from the front seat of his 1968 Camaro and almost flinches when the Trans Am's hood next to him slams shut. Red, with midnight black decals, the Trans Am is known for its driver's insane antics; it sports dozens upon dozens of scratches and bumps Lavi Bookman refuses to buff out.

"So Yu," Lavi smirks, leaning against the passenger door of his vehicle. "Ya hear? Komui said there may be a new driver showing up. Some kid."

Kanda snorts and crosses his arms, shuts his open door much more carefully than Lavi shut his hood. The smell is even worse than inside the car, and he has half a mind to just drive off and forget the race completely. He can't do that though; the pounding in the chest is more than just music – there's a premature rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He hears the familiar roar of an engine as Lenalee Lee pulls up in her dahlia colored Shelby Mustang; there is the unmistakable sound of Chinese R&B pouring from the open windows and mixing into the night air. The vehicle shuts off and she steps out, running a manicured hand through dark green locks of hair. Lavi lets out a sharp whistle, and Kanda glares at him as harshly as he can.

It's quite obvious Lenalee is off limits, as stated by her brother - the man who runs these operations. It isn't that Kanda is scared of him (such a thing would be ridiculous) but he isn't going to deny the man has all the pull needed to keep him out of the races. Besides, he wouldn't try anything with that girl anyway.

She saunters towards them, one long, leather clad leg in front of the other. How she doesn't trip in those heeled boots on this rough gravel is fucking beyond him.

"Hey you two," she smiles, leaning against Lavi's Trans Am. "Ready?"

What a stupid question.

"Of course," Kanda answers gruffly, scoffing. He pushes off his vehicle and walks off then, leaving the two to talk about whatever they want. The mass of people surrounding the vehicles parts as he walks through, but there's so many people they can't part to where he's not running into them left and right. He grunts as he stumbles past a quivering brunette. She looks totally uncomfortable with her current setting.

He fills a red, plastic cup with alcohol from a keg and frowns at the people at the race tonight. Collectively, they seem like idiots with no capacity for understanding the first thing about street racing. They're all dancing, gyrating, mindless morons who just need an excuse to get out of their own, horrible lives for the night. By him, someone describes the worst crash they'd experienced. Pussies.

He crushes his half-drunk cup, not caring a bit at how it spill through the cracks, and tosses it at a dumpster off to the side. He doesn't need to be drinking too much, just enough to deal with Lavi and his stupidity for the night. He checks his watch; it's five minutes to eleven. Fucking new kid had better be here on time or they're going to start without him.

He runs his hand under his hair, pulling the few strands that have gotten caught in the crease between his neck and his jacket out.

The race doesn't start until eleven-fifteen, but they're going to be placing their bets in five so he makes his way back to the vehicles, shoving through the drunk, horribly smelling crowd. There's a hand that yanks at the chain on his jeans, but he pushes away so harshly he imagines they'll wake up with bruised fingers.

Lenalee and Lavi are still leaned against his car, talking, and Komui is off to the side, eyeing them suspiciously. When Kanda walks up, he starts, and gathers them to the front line.

"Our final racer said he was going to be a bit late. I've agreed to postpone the race until eleven-thirty instead of fifteen – I owe his teacher a favor or two."

Upon saying this, however, there is a grumble of a well-made engine and a pure white Lamborghini pulls up. The car is silent save that, and the driver's side door opens up and shuts down soundlessly as the new driver steps up to them.

He's definitely as Lavi described him – a kid. Short, with strangely died platinum white hair, a strange red tattoo, and silver-blue eyes; with alabaster skin and pants so tight he probably has restricted breathing. He straightens his leather jacket and smiles at them all pointedly – Kanda is sure those silver eyes linger on him for a moment too long – and turns to Komui.

"My apologies," he says, British accent thick. "It appears I made you postpone the race without considering the lack of traffic cams in this surrounding area."

He fiddles with the sleeves of his jacket before turning to the person nearest him, Lavi, and extending his hand. Lavi takes it, laughing and shaking his hand before saying, "Lavi."

The kid nods and says, "Allen Walker."

He can't decide how he feels about his 'Allen Walker' kid. His first impression is something like patronization and condescension, but then, when those intense eyes hit his, his thoughts scatter completely. There's a pang of lust in his abdomen and he frowns intensely.

The short boy turns to him, then, and holds out his hand. "Allen Walker," he smiles, sultry. Kanda scoffs at him and bats his hand away.

"That's Yu. He's still figuring out the whole 'manners' thing." Lavi laughs, and Kanda lets out a snarl.

"Call him Kanda," Lenalee laughs.

"Alright, alright," Komui chuckles. "Now that the introductions are done. Stakes start at five grand."

"Let's raise it to ten," Lavi smirks, leaning forward.

Lenalee shrugs and flips her hair over her shoulder. "No problem for me. Kanda?"

She looks at him and he snorts, "Of course not."

Allen laughs, boisterously. "Oh, you lot. Ten grand? How's this – I raise it to thirty. And we play for pinks."

"Pink slips?" Lavi asks. "Are you crazy?"

"Of course not," Allen returns, mock offense evident on his face. "But I appreciate a good bet with high stakes. If you're too uncomfortable with that, you can fold while you're ahead."

Without a word, Kanda bends into his car and gets the title from the glove box, hands it to Komui. Hesitantly, Lenalee and Lavi to the same, while the short one just reaches into his back pocket and pulls his out. His vehicle is a Lamborghini Murciélago, no doubt the most expensive of the cars, meaning he has the most to lose. Maybe the kid understands something about risks, about barriers.

"Let's get this started then. The strip is five miles long – we aren't taking it straight through the city this time for safety reasons; the highway out is blocked off so no pedestrians can interfere. Good luck." Komui smiles amiably and Kanda rolls his eyes, sighing, climbs into his Camaro. Down at the end, Walker's white scissor door slides down and shuts silently. The music, still loud, becomes pure background noise, more felt than heard as he starts his vehicle. The rev of the engine is a low purr, soft but powerful – the muscle in the car is evident.

Running his long fingers over the leather cover on the wheel, he lets his lips turn up into a smirk and he looks to his side; he can see Lavi grinning wildly, hears as he presses down on the accelerator to make his Trans Am growl playfully and burnout. He understands the practical aspect of it, to improve traction, but he'd still never do such a thing to Mugen's tires.

A barely dressed Cloud Nine walks out in front of the cars, anger and aggravation evident on her face. She pressed a whistle to her lips, raises her right hand and counts down from three on them. Three. Two. One.

The whistle blows, barely heard over the cars and the music.

Instantly, the world melts away into the screech of tires on pavement and the rock music that pours from his speakers – reverberating in his chest and limbs. Slowly, but surely, he presses his foot further down on the accelerator, revels in the feeling as Mugen moves forward faster and faster, veering in front of Lavi's Trans Am. He shifts into third gear, letting his eyes flick down to catch the speedometer as he slowly wavers over the sixty miles an hour mark and then continues to creep past it. A soft laugh escapes his lips as he turns the radio up, but fades quickly as the white Lamborghini storms past him – easily going ninety.

Snarling, he shifts again, speeding up, tires smooth against the concrete. The highway has been blocked off specifically for this event, so he has no issue with pushing Mugen as fast as he'll go. He watches as he hits eighty, eighty-five, ninety – the white car is still ahead of him though.

Letting out a sound of indignation and anger, he reaches down, notices belatedly that Lenalee's Mustang is ripping forward – then Lavi and – fuck.

He grabs the notch, presses down on the button harshly, listens as the nitrous kicks into gear and propels the car forward. The force presses him back into the seat a little, but he smirks as he passes all three of them easily – watches as the needle passes one-twenty. Fuck this is exhilarating. Faster. He has to go faster. Break whatever barriers are there – to bypass and overcome them. Blood pumps through him - he can feel it pulsing through his veins.

Then, eyes still on the road, he licks his lips and recognizes Komui is either a fucking idiot or a fucking liar. Cursing, he shifts down into second, tires screeching as he realizes he isn't going to make that with a simple turn of the wheel.

"Fuck, fuck – fuck."

Pressing down on the clutch, he slams down on the break, lets the side of his foot press down on the acceleration. It kind of hurts with the amount of force he's using, but he doesn't care about that in the slightest. He downshifts quickly, then lets off the clutch and flicks the steering wheel to the left, feeling his car lurch away from its center and towards the inside. It's a kind of liberating feeling – like his body is weightless and he has no control of it. It'll just go where the car wants it to go, nowhere else.

Growling, he grips the steering wheel as harshly as he can to keep that under his control at least. It'd be too easy for his hands to slip and for him to run off the highway and go up in flames and smoke. The tail end of Mugen sweeps back and forth a few times before equaling out and he continues speeding down the dragway. Komui probably did that to catch them off guard. Fucker.

He relaxes a bit in his seat, enjoying the feeling of fear and adrenaline pumping through him. It's short lived, however, like most of his pleasures in this race, dude to that goddamn Lamborghini. It whizzes past him with ease and he barks a curse at that Allen Walker before screaming, "Fuck it!" and pushing down all the way on the accelerator. The car lurches a bit as he shifts up and he looks down to realize he's going one-fifty. He doesn't usually go so fast, but this kid is making him and he doesn't like that at all – being made to do something.

He's going to win. Win the ninety grand and three new cars. Oh, that kid never should've suggested pinks.

And if he wasn't so fucking pretty, he'd punch him in the face afterwards for good measure.

When he's nose and nose with the short kid's car, he smirks. He's topping one-sixty, he perhaps feels the front of his car lifting ever so slightly from the wind resistance piling up underneath the vehicle, but he doesn't stop. He keeps going, lets out a bark of a laugh as Walker looks over at him, smiling brightly. That kid is so going down.

Lenalee and Lavi are there, trying and failing to pass the either of them, but he doesn't even register them. Half the time his eyes and mind are on the road, and the other half they're spent on the white haired kid laughing his ass off and looking like he's having the time of his life.

They hit the three mile mark and Kanda purses his lips, more to keep from smiling than agitation. That Lamborghini will look just fine in his driveway.

Then he feels something hit the side of his car. Appalled, he looks over at Walker to find him smiling innocently, staring at the road again. He definitely felt something hit his goddamn car though. Then the boy looks over at him, smiling with closed eyes, and turns his wheel towards Kanda sharply.


Growling, he flicks his wheel away, successfully running off the road. In the grass he's slower and he's left an opening for one of the other two. Hell if that's happening.

Downshifting, he speeds up, tires ripping up grass from beneath him as he tears back onto the highway. He hears concrete scrape the undercarriage of his car and he curses harshly before shifting again and speeding up. He's behind the other three now, but that's going to change. That Walker wants to play dirty and cheat? He wants to fuck with his Mugen? That white Lamborghini is going down. Fuck having something nice and clean and white sitting in his driveway – he's gonna mangle the thing and put it on display for the world to see.

Apologizing to Mugen, he gets just behind the Trans Am; when he's about three inches forward, front bumper only just next to the Trans Am's rear bumper, he jerks his wheel, narrowly avoids the now spinning car.

As it's spinning, it knocks the Lamborghini and the Mustang from the roadway and Kanda maneuvers around Lavi to get in front of them all. Hopefully none of them die from this; he isn't going back to jail for a couple of idiots.

He slows down just a little when he's a quarter mile further. He's definitely going to bring Mugen into the shop when all this is over.

When he's a mile from the finish line, Walker and the other two catch up with him. The pink Mustang rides dangerously close to his side as Lenalee creeps up. Sniffing in disdain, he downshifts and speeds up again, veers in front of her to keep her from passing him again. Then the Lamborghini uses the newly open lane to growl playfully and crawl through. When their bumpers are level with each other, the white haired kid looks over at him, all bedroom eyes and a sultry smile. Kanda scowls and swallows the agitation and lust in lieu of focusing on the road in front of him.

Then suddenly, Walker waves at him and jolts forward. Nitrous.

Snarling, he registers he has just enough for one more shot of his own nitrous and hits it as well. He presses back further into the seat than the first time, watching the needle on the speedometer reach one-eighty, one eighty-five. Walker is still in front of him though, and there's only half a mile left. He lets out an agitated noise and slams down on the accelerator. One-ninety. One ninety-two. One ninety-five. One ninety-seven. One ninety-nine.

Two hundred.

He zips forward, bumper and bumper with Allen Walker once more. Mugen is shaking, rising from the air resistance. If this keeps up too much longer he'll flip backwards, but he has to win. Frowning deeply, he doesn't spare the kid a glance as he hits the final quarter of a mile. Then they're a thousand feet from the finish line. Seven hundred. Five hundred. His world is just this. Three hundred. Two hundred. Nothing else matters.

One hundred.

The finish line.

With a force he doesn't like to admit, he hits his head on the steering wheel while stomping on the brake pedal and turning the wheel so he doesn't run into anything. The car skids, toppling dangerously close to falling on its side and the protesting of the tires isn't lost on Kanda. When he's finally still, he lets out a heavy breath and rests his aching head on the back of his seat.

He lies there for a minute until he hears a knock on his window. Opening one eye, he looks to it: Lavi.

Groaning, he rolls down the window and growls out a, "What?"

"Photo finish," Lavi answers morosely. "The kid beat you by about six inches."

Something inside Kanda snaps and he punches the steering wheel harshly. A pain shoots up his arm, but he doesn't care. "Fuck that," He snarls, grabbing something under the seat and opening the door, pushing Lavi out the way. Pointedly, he stomps up to Walker, presses the blade to his chest. "You cheated."

The short kid looks down at his sword, then smiles up at him. "So did you."

"You cheated first."

"Kanda, right?" Allen pushes on the blade with a force Kanda never could have pegged on something small like him. "Tell ya what. You go out to drinks with me, and I'll let you keep your car. That's what's got you angry, right? You don't care about the money."

Kanda snorts at him. "Are you even old enough to drink?"

"Firstly, I obviously don't concern myself with legalities; secondly, I'm twenty-two, so yes, actually."

Kanda eyes him, warily, then just lets his sword hang at his side. "Fine. Your treat."

"Of course," the kid smirks. "Now put up your weapon, I don't think that'll be accepted where we're going." Making a noise, Kanda puts his sword back under the driver's seat and locks his car. "And we're taking my car as well? That's alright, I suppose." After Kanda climbs into the passenger seat, Walker gives him a look. "You aren't going to tell your friends where you're going?"

"Friends?" Kanda sneers. "They can go fuck themselves."

"Okay then," the kid laughs, walking around the front end and folding into the driver's seat. Kanda pulls down the passenger door, the smooth mechanic motion pleasing him. When the short-stack turns on the car, no music comes from the speakers. Pure silence fills the cabin of the car, reverberating off the leather and black interior. The engine turns over, purring, and they pull away from the crowd. "You aren't scared someone's going to take your car?"

"Komui'll take it back to the garage."

"Well that's nice of him."


"Not very talkative, are you?"

"Was that a stipulation of this? I'm only here so I can keep my car."

"Really, now?"

Allen Walker shoots him a glance and Kanda sneers. Well of course. What other reason would he have for being here? He isn't going to deny that the kid would be a nice fuck for a one night stand, but really, he's kind of annoying. He doesn't know if that'd even be worth it. Looking at the small from out the corner of his eyes, he shrugs internally. No, he'd still fuck him, but he'd have to make sure he kept his mouth shut. Duct tape or a gag perhaps.

He doesn't usually think like this, but there's something about the kid; a primal and primitive aura surrounds him. He just has that – that presence. It's all sex and feigned innocence. And something about that is so intoxicating.

They drive through Los Angeles with the windows down, letting the warm night air press upon their faces. Kanda's hair and bangs whip around him and he frowns a bit at that, but he feels good so he doesn't roll the window up.

They're silent the entire way to wherever the kid is bringing him. When they pull up to a nightclub, the words 'Rhapsody' displayed in bright neon, Kanda groans. Clubs aren't really his thing. He prefers normal bars.

Nonetheless, he climbs out the vehicle, watching as the kid throws his keys to a tall, busty woman. She nods at him and pockets them, keeps her golden eyes on the sleek, white Lamborghini.

Kanda follows Walker as he enters the club, easily bypassing the bouncer and leading him to the bar. Propping himself up on a stool, he looks at Kanda with questioning eyes and he responds with, "Black Velvet." The kid gives him a smile he'd never outwardly admit as stunning and turns to the bartender, a suave looking Portuguese man with black, slicked back hair and a mole under his left eye.

For himself, Walker orders a, "Dirty Martini," and leans on the bar slightly, looks at Kanda with what he can only classify as some subtle type of bedroom eyes.

"Are you trying to be indiscreet?" Kanda asks, ticking an eyebrow up in slight agitation.

"Not really," the kids replies, smiling. "I am trying to be successful though, so let me know how that works out."

"You'll know," Kanda replies easily, taking his drink from the bartender and sipping it. He lets his eyes wander over the crowd, realizes they're no better than the crowd at the pass. He doesn't care about them. And they don't care about him. It's a wonderful relationship, really, one where he doesn't have to wonder about a single thing or care about if they have any issues or problems – why they're here instead of sleeping for work the next day.

"So, Kanda. What got you into cars?"

Kanda looks back over at Walker and raises an eyebrow at him. "I've always liked them," he answers simply. "Ever since I was nine."

"Nine, huh?" he asks, sipping at his martini. He probably thinks he looks sophisticated or some shit.

Kanda rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his drink. The kid's boring him. The club, with this horrible music and these horrible people are not what he wants. And if the kid can't see that, oh well.

But that's when Walker sets his martini down on the bar and leans in a bit. "You don't seem like the type to dance – maybe this was a bad idea. Wanna leave?"

Kanda narrows his eyes at him. "Of course I fucking do."

The kid smiles. "Alright then, let's leave." He downs the rest of his martini, lets Kanda finish his drink, then waves goodbye to the bartender before the two of them walk out. The Lamborghini is exactly where he left it, and the woman is still just watching it. She hands Walker the keys and he climbs into the driver's seat, waiting as Kanda slides in next to him. "Where do you want to go?"

Kanda lets out a harsh sigh. "I don't want to go anywhere. I just want my car."

Walker laughs, loudly and boisterously. "Okay, okay. Well, we had our drinks. Why don't we just do one more thing?"

Kanda rolls his eyes. "Right. And what do you suggest, short-stack?"

The white-haired boy raises an eyebrow at him, grimacing for a moment. Then he says, "Tell you what. I'll give you your car in exchange for a kiss."

"A kiss?" Kanda scoffs. Walker turns on the radio, low and leans back in his seat, looks at Kanda. He mulls it over for a second. It sounds ideal, to be honest – getting both his car and a kiss from this strange boy. He wins either way, he guesses. Car dark, he frowns at Walker then says, "Fine."

Because of the streetlamps and the lit dashboard, Kanda watches the kid beam then lean over the middle console and inch closer and closer. When they're an inch apart, his extremely large smile fades and his eyes stare into Kanda's. They're big and silver – almost look like newly melted chrome, burning hot. Then Kanda feels a hand at the back of his neck and he opens his mouth to Walker's.

The instant their lips touch, Kanda feels the passion Walker pours into it. It's not rushed or unbridled. It's slow and sensual, and makes all the blood in his body rush downwards. He's never been kissed in such a way, someone who perhaps isn't rushing it just to get to the sex. That maybe he's being kissed to enjoy being kissed.

He pushes up a bit from the seat to sit straighter and get closer, wraps his arms around Walker's waist and lets his fingers ghost his spine. The smaller boy shivers underneath his touch and smirks a bit into the kiss and Kanda deepens it even more, swiping his tongue between the twenty-two year old's lips. With a slight moan, Walker fights back for dominance but must realize quickly it's pointless and let's Kanda take over. Fingers run through his hair, pulling it out of its ponytail and Kanda lets out a breath as it tugs his scalp slightly.

Growling, he all but drags the kid over to the passenger's seat, sits him in his lap. "So aggressive," Walker smirks as Kanda presses kisses along the side of his neck. He can feel how hard the white-haired boy is against him though, and knows he's just as aroused. He grinds up, the friction delicious against his erection as he bites down on Allen's collarbone. The boy's fingernails rake through his shirt, move up underneath it. He goes back to kissing Walker on the mouth, then, but it doesn't last very long, because then he detaches and moves down Kanda's body, unhooks his belt as he does so.

Kanda's breath catches as soon as he realizes what the boy is doing. There's something so sensual about the kid just going for it and he closes his eyes as the stale air of the car hits his erection. His fingers grip the handle on the door, nails dig into the heel of his palm as Walker's breath hits him.

"Thought…you said just a kiss…" Kanda manages out.

"I can stop if you'd like," Allen chuckles, licking a line from the base of his cock to the tip and blowing on it. Kanda's thighs clench and his spine is bent at an awkward angle as he presses up into Walker's mouth. Stop? Kanda'd probably run him through if he tried to stop at this point. The sharp scent of sex is in the air and they've barely started – it makes Kanda heady and even more roused than he already is.

Lips stretched tightly over Kanda's cock, Walker's eyes closing then peering up at him, the harsh inhalation in and out through his nose – he's never seen anyone so arousing. He grabs a fistful of white hair as the boy bobs his head, shallow at first, but going farther and farther down the length of his dick as the milliseconds wear on. Kanda swallows the building saliva in his mouth and lets out a gust of air as the tip of his cock hits the back of Walker's throat. Hollowed-out cheeks rubbing against the sides, Kanda groans and rests his head back on the seat. This is ridiculous – his head is spinning and he knows that he isn't going to last much longer. Shutting his eyes tightly, he holds onto that burning, growing feeling in his abdomen; doesn't let it go just yet. This has to go on – it can't end.

He just doesn't have that kind of control over his body though, and thrusting his hips up into Walker's mouth, hitting the back of his throat harshly, he comes. He watches the white-haired boy catch the excess that pours from around his lips and Kanda's cock with his hand, laps it up sensually, letting his tongue roll around the creases of his fingers. It's so fucking lewd.

"I can't let that get on the seats – it'd never come out," the kid smirks and Kanda doesn't really have the energy to even roll his eyes.

But now it's obvious the kid has a problem and he doesn't, so what do they do? Allen seems to have the answer in a second, crawling back up into his laps and kissing him again, rubbing his erection against Kanda's stomach and breathing harsh, heavy moans into his neck and mouth. The friction and Walker's ass rubbing against his dick combined make him half hard again, but he focuses on not caring about that, on reaching his hand between them to jerk him off haphazardly as he nibbles on a pale earlobe. He's never known for being a highly generous lover, but he's not going to make the kid sit and drive him home with an erection.

When Walker comes, Kanda gives a disgusted face and wipes his wet and sticky hand on Walker's leather jacket. The white-haired boy doesn't say anything, but shrugs off the jacket with a bit of a huff – it was probably expensive – and climbs back into the driver's seat. Once there, he leans his head against the seat and evens out his breathing before starting the car and pulling out of the jet black parking lot.

To avoid any awkwardness…"Why the hell do you race in a car like this? It's not made for street racing."

"Well, the car I usually race with is in the shop, and I like this one," Allen replies simply. "Am I dropping you off at your house?"

Kanda frowns at him. "Drop me off at the Black Order's garage."

"Ah, that auto mechanic shop in downtown? No problem." The drive to the shop is quiet, much to Kanda's pleasure. He doesn't even know what they'd talk about after…that. Ugh, who just kneels down in a Lamborghini and gives head? It's unconventional at best. Not that he's really complaining – it's just weird. It's close to twelve-thirty at this point and the lights through the city cast patches of white and yellow on them as they drive through – the scent of sex and a bit of sweat still mingling in the airspace of the car. He wrinkles his nose and listens as Walker lets out a breathy laugh. As he pulls into the driveway of the shop he asks, "When can I see you again?"

Kanda furrows his eyebrows at that and frowns. Why would he want to see the short-stack again? "My number's in the phonebook," is all he says before stepping out the car. All he says before unlocking the garage and not giving a single glance backwards at the white, sleek beauty as it backs from the driveway.

He wakes up the next morning to the sharp sound of sirens. It's not altogether uncommon to hear sirens in Los Angeles, especially where he lives – it's just that they sound so goddamn close. Blearily, he climbs out of bed, peers through the blinds to look at the front yard. Two cop cars are parked there, sirens blasting.


Quickly, he pulls on a pair of jeans and puts a gray shirt on before stumbling out of his bedroom and through the back, kitchen door. Why are they here? Sprinting across his backyard, he hops the wooden fence with little difficulty, crouches down low as he makes his way across his neighbor's yard and then down the street. After a few minutes he slows down, lets himself catch his breath – until he hears the sirens again and watches the police cars barrel down the street. Cursing, he slips down an alleyway, hides next to a dumpster and watches as the Crown Victoria's pass him up completely.

Letting out a growl, he pulls his cell phone from his pocket – it's the same pair of jeans from last night and he'd kept his phone in them overnight – and dials Lavi's number.

It rings a few times before he hears a breathless Lavi answer, "Hey, Yu! How's it going?"

"What the fuck is going on?"

"That is actually – ah, shit – a great question. Hold on while I jump this ledge. Fuck! Oh okay – um yeah, I'm not sure of what's going on. Someone must have tipped the police off about last night."

"I get that – who?"

"Could 'a been anyone, man! I don't know! Oh this better not be any of that Fast and the Furious shit – Allen Walker, Paul Walker. Fuck man, we were so played."

"It wasn't him," Kanda growls, finally breathing fairly normal. "Have you talked to Lenalee or Komui?"

"Just got off the phone with our Lenababy. She said we're gonna meet up at the old HQ."

"Right." With that, he hangs up, shoves the phone in his pocket once more before sprinting down the alleyway and hoping the chain link fence at the end. His feet connect with a metal dumpster on the other side and he growls at the pain in his ankle. He must have twisted it running.

The thing about HQ is that it's a good ten miles away from where he lives. He can't go back to his house to get Mugen because the cops are there, which means he'll have to chance going to the garage and borrowing a car from there. If they're there too, then he'll just have to reform and re-plan again.

When he's within sight of the garage, he notices there are no cars or people around at all. Speed-walking, he breaks through the backdoor and stalks in, wary. Doesn't sound like anyone's here. He'll pay Komui back for the broken glass.

The Civic they'd been working on is sitting dormant, keys on the workbench next to it. Grabbing the remote for the garage, he climbs into the vehicle and starts it before clicking the button and letting the garage raise just enough for him to get through. As soon as he's out, he closes it back and speeds away.

He's careful not to attract attention to himself as he drives. He doesn't go over or under the speed limit, and he stops fully at each stop sign. When he arrives at the old building they used as their last garage, he pulls into the alleyway on the side and looks around before exiting the car. Swiftly, he knocks on the side door. It doesn't open and no one answers so he raps on it more harshly this time, says, "Open the fucking door!"

It opens, slowly, and Lenalee is standing there. She lets out a breath once she sees it's Kanda and pulls him in.

"What took you so long?"

"I had to break into the garage to get the Civic."

"You had to – you broke into the garage?" she asks, incredulous. Then she sighs and shakes her head. "Whatever. Listen, do you have any idea who could have done this?"

"None," Kanda growls back. "And that agitates me. It obviously could have been anybody. There were dozens of people at that pass."

"But that seems so weird to me. Why go to a race and then report it afterwards? Why not just report it right then and there?"

"Nobody said people were smart," Kanda retorts, walking past her and into the common area. It's wide open and concrete-floored; the walls are fairly bare save chipping paint and a few vintage posters. They really haven't been here in years.

His footsteps echo as he walks, and he vaguely notes the place smells like old oil and rusted metal. Muttering a curse under his breath, he falls down onto a bench and leans his weight on a large cabinet. Komui and Lavi walk into the open space, then, both looking a little perplexed.

"What took you so long?" Komui asks, wiping his hands on an old rag. He acts as though he's just gotten back from working with a car, though Kanda sees no frames or engines.

"I told your damn sister. The police were surrounding my house and I needed a car to get here. I borrowed the Civic."

"The Civic? Did you break into the garage again?"

"The first time doesn't count as breaking in. The door was unlocked."

"But you still broke a window."

"How was I supposed to know you were an idiot who doesn't lock doors? I needed something."

"Brother, Kanda, please. We have bigger things to worry about. Has anyone been in contact with the new boy – Allen Walker, right? Kanda, didn't you go home with him?"

Bewildered at Lenalee's words, he stands and very quickly says, "Of course not! We had drinks; that's all."

"Kanda, that's never all it is." Lavi says, slowly and patronizing – like Kanda is a small child who doesn't understand. "He might look like a kid but I saw those eyes. He's an 'I get what I want' kinda guy – and he wanted you."

Groaning, Kanda slaps his hand to his face. "You're an idiot. I didn't go home with him. No, I haven't had any contact with him. Komui, you were at the garage last night when he dropped me off; tell them."

"I remember nothing of the sort," the older man replies, cleaning his glasses. "No, no – maybe I do. Eh…nope."

"You're an asshole. You're all assholes." It's then that his phone rings and he frowns before answering it. "What?" He snaps.

"Ah, Kanda."

Speak of the devil.

"What do you want?"

"You see, I'm in a spot of trouble," Walker starts, breathing heavy for some reason. "The police have surrounded my home and now I'm on the run. Do you perhaps have a safe house of some sort?"

Kanda wrinkles his nose in distaste. Then he looks at the others. "If this call is being screened and you're just fucking around, I'm going to kill you," he says, almost calmly and matter-of-factly. "We're at the old Black Order's garage." With that, he ends the call and frowns deeply. "You wanted to know about Walker? The police are on him too."

"I love how much information you gave him. He's totally gonna know where we are with, 'old Black Order's garage.'" Lavi says. "Dude, if you're gonna make him a part 'a this, you've gotta be a little clearer."

"The kid's resourceful. He'll figure it out," Kanda tells him, cleaning off his phone on his jeans. As soon as he's done, he plops back down onto the bench and sighs deeply. Nothing like this has happened before. The police have showed up at the races before, but he's never gotten them at his home. He's had to escape them, but never like that. He doesn't like it one bit – something like this can't settle well with him. It's annoying and suspicious.

The electricity in the building has long been shut off, but due to the early day time, that doesn't matter. Light flitters in through dirty, broken windows and the lighter Lavi continues to play with out of sheer boredom. The only problem he has is that it's hot. He feels the sweat dripping down the middle of his back and it's disgusting. It's always hot in Los Angeles in July, though, that's nothing new. And the garages never have air conditioning – they just have fans in their current one.

As a knock raps on the metal garage door urgently, a rat scurries across the cement ground. In a second, Komui is by the garage door, looking through a small window near the top of it before sighing a bit and opening the garage just enough to reach under and pull the person on the other side of it through. Not wasting any time, he shuts the garage door back and lets his breath even.

"Well, hello there, lot."

Nobody answers him at first, then Lavi smiles broadly and takes his hand from his side. "Hola, Allen! You got here fast!"

"I live rather close by," the white-haired boy answers, straightening out his sleeve. "I want to thank you for helping me." He looks at everyone, then pointedly at Kanda. With a demur wave, the kid saunters forward and sits down on the bench next to him.

Kanda offers him a raised eyebrow.

"So, Allen. You don't have any idea who could have done this? Tipped off the police?" Komui wonders aloud, straightening his glasses and leaning against a dirty wall.

Walker shrugs. "None. It all seems very strange to me, to be honest. Things of this nature are generally reported and taken care of at the source. To be followed home…I assume the three of you had the police at your home?"

Lenalee nods. "Yeah. Which means they have our identities as well."

The kid nods a bit, then says, "That can be taken care of. The only thing you will have to worry about is those who already know your faces. One moment." Taking out his cell phone, he stands – walks from the large area to a door on the far right. It's the door that leads out to the register and no one moves to follow him. When he returns a minute or so later, he pockets his phone and smiles. "Don't worry," he tells them. "I've had a good friend send in a false call over the radios. Everything should be all right."

"Wait, wait, wait – what? Just like that?" Lavi asks, incredulous. He crosses his arms, as if he doesn't believe a word of it.

"A…family member of mine has connections with the police force. I simply needed a place to rest and call and I got that. So I thank you."

"You're awfully goddamn polite for someone just chased by the cops." Kanda snarls, crossing his arms and talking for the first time since the kid arrived.

"A gentleman is always polite regardless of circumstance," Walker returns. "As obvious with last night?"

Kanda gives him an ugly expression of anger and distaste before standing and walking away towards the side door. "We're done here? I can leave?"

"No, wait – Kanda, we need to figure out who did this."

"Carmen Sandiego. Now leave me alone."

"Well," Lavi says as he's walking out the door. "Where in the world is she?"

Well, here it is. I'm not sure of whether or not I'll continue this, what with all the other shit I have going on. But if you guys like it, I'll certainly try. Also, can anyone guess what the title means? Or at least what it's playing at?