Chapter 0.000001

Genuine

As I had started working on SRB2Kart The Documentary, researching about the game's predecessors and development, there were a few things that I thought would be worth asking about to the people that would know the most about it, which would be none other than the team of developers at KartKrew, responsible for the game and its future sequel Dr. Robotnik Ring Racers. And sure enough, they delivered!

AEIOU

In the dimly lit streets of CARACAS, one of many dark corners with doors custodied by thugs, doors holding behind opportunities for those willing to do anything for a good pay, would see an uncommon visitor...

Gran Tauro: Wrong circus, green jacket.

Exhaling a huff, this visitor, a man with a messy mane of painted-white hair, black stubble and sideburns without a mustache and a green jacket, wearing deep blue sunglasses in the middle of the night, walks around thinking about something until he looks sure about his response-

Green Jacket: Listen, I know you need men for tasks under the rug. I'd call 50 cheap for what tasks I can do for 15 years of experience out here; you see a clown standing in front of you, I see just someone that could slip in some pockets in a party and not stick out. Got my ID tracks covered as well!

The man pulls out three fake ID cards with different names but that seem consistent and legitimate to the naked eye.

Gran Tauro: 15 years of experience...at 24 years old, Keith?

The bouncer exclaims with an unamused tone as he holds the man's actual ID card in his right hand.

Keith Powell, 24 years old.

Of course, Mr. "Green Jacket" just got a reason to get agitated.

Keith: HEY, HEY, HEY, LET GO-

Silenced by a shushing finger from the thug, with his right hand still holding his ID, he points at it with his left hand and then gestures at the nervous wreck to hand over his fakes.

Being aware of the ways things could go south if he attempted to do anything else, he complies.

The thug puts the cards under a flashlight in one of his pockets, and notices certain patterns visible on the real ID card missing in the fake ones.

Gran Tauro: Homemade?

Keith: Alright, alright, tongue slipped a moment, but I swear it won't with cops or anyone else; I can even take 25 right now if you need someone to swipe fast-

Gran Tauro: You who don't even keep an eye on your own pockets. We don't take roaches like you since the day someone offered a cheap job, just gave us a cheap shot. Cost as much to us as it did to him, stupid bastard.

Both stare at each other for a few seconds.

Keith: ...Y-you're letting me go, right?

Gran Tauro: Do not come back. Not wasting a laundry day from washing THIS jacket with your teeth.

Keith is handed back his IDs with a threatening glare from the thug, and he slowly goes back where he came from until he's out of his sight and hastily runs away.

As he walks in the middle of the empty road, he ponders how many times this had happened to him already...

Keith: Fourteen dens, still no shot, but the next one ahead at...fifteen squares..should have some good sh-

[SLAM]

After kicking a nearby trashcan into the other sidewalk, starting to kneel and shrink into a fetal position.

Keith: ...Not tomorrow...

???: And what's up with you? Out of cash?

Keith: B-Hhuh?

Keith quietly dries off tears with his jacket while giving this sudden stranger the back, and then turns back around to make sure of what he heard; trying to play it cool- even if still breathing nervously.

Keith: Looking for someone? Like...right now? You must be seeking to offer a job...are you?

...

...Are you?!?

But before Keith's expression of desperate relief transformed completely into a face of an horrifying realization...

???: No, no kidneys, just a job like you said. Call me Decker.

Keith: What is it?!? *cough* And...for when?

Decker: One man's trash is another man's treasure.

Duties like these cost a pretty penny outside of this hole...but to offer 200 to you for this, HERE...its more than what you've ever seen at once in your life, right?

You don't look that old or skinny, I'll guess that you can sure run for your life. If you're willing to sign with it, then you'll sure need it to keep it.

Keith: Swipe and run?

Decker: From some you might have met before; they have in their trash something of mine worth a treasure.

And just so that we are clear...please keep your two feet walking straight.

[GUNSHOT]

That trashcan on the sidewalk now had a small, smoking hole in it. It couldn't be any clearer than that.

Decker: Now don't feel pressured to take it if you're soiled, but if you want to take it...

Look at me in the eyes when taking the handshake.

As the mysterious benefactor stretches his hand while looking at Keith, expecting an appropiate response, Keith sees under his sunglasses in the eyes of the man, a slight sinister feel; as if it could be all a ruse out of a suspiciously generous man.

Decker: Honor me with your honest judgement, and I'll honor you with a honest deal.

Keith takes the shades off, initially looking at him slightly from the side with concern...but as he takes a clear look at him, he faces him frontwards, concentrated to see what he was really looking at.

A visage of true risk behind the deal, looking at a warped reflection of himself as he kept looking.

That hell I see in his eyes...the price to pay...that he has brought others to...

When Decker gets to see his eyes clearly, he notices something quite odd-

That look...I've seen it already. He doesn't look like he could have been there before, but...

Without any words being exchanged, their hands start to reach out...

With all what it takes...this deal absolutely must be...

I'll be damned, this desperate conviction must be indeed...

The deal was done.