Sixteen-year-old Jacques Durant sped across the western desert of Mojinko, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the swirling dust. He rode a massive motorcycle that was clearly beyond his monthly allowance. A bag, bulging with stolen motor parts, hung across his chest—he was headed to Russel's auto workshop to drop it right in front of the mechanic's face.
"Yo, I got what you asked for," he said.
The mechanic smirked as he rummaged through the bag and found the motorcycle parts—everything he'd asked Jacques to find was there.
"Where did you steal these from?" Russell chuckled.
"You can tell."
"These are expensive parts," Russell said, eyeing Jacques knowingly. "Either you got them off a celebrity's bike or from space pirates. But if it's from space pirates, that means you were way outside Mojinko, so... local bikers?"
"Actually, the space pirates were just taking a break in Femorra, and they kind of robbed my wallet. So I figured I'd make it even," Jacques replied with a proud grin.
Russell counted out the money he had promised. After deciding it was worth all the trouble and danger, Jacques walked away with the stolen Atkinstall.
Before heading home, he stopped by the city and bought himself a pair of cool leather boots, a sleek watch, and treated himself to a nice meal at the steakhouse.
When he reached the large, three-story house owned by the cotton farm's proprietor, the workers couldn't help but stare. It wasn't every day you saw someone riding an Atkinstall in Mojinko; the motorcycle was usually only seen off-road, in the hands of bikers and daring travelers.
A woman with curly ash-blonde hair and piercing blue eyes hurried out, her gaze filled with anxiety, wondering if a space biker had invaded her farm. But when she saw Jacques, with his red-brownish skin and short brown hair, her nerves eased.
"I was wondering where you'd been these past two days. And here you are, coming home like a pirate," she teased, her pride in him evident. Like a good mother, she never grew tired of showing how proud she was of the boy she'd adopted from the orphanage eight years ago—now growing into a young man. And though she tried to deny it, she could tell: soon, he would slip beyond her grasp.
Jacques lifted his sunglasses and placed a bouquet of flowers in front of his chest. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he walked toward Marie, as if they were about to go on a date. "Pirate with flowers."
Marie laughed warmly and pulled Jacques into a hug, welcoming him home.
But the warmth soon faded as Marie's joke about Jacques looking like a pirate apparently wasn't a joke, but a deep worry.
"They robbed my wallet first, Mom! I needed to avenge them!" Jacques began to lose his cool, explaining how he got the Atkinstall in the first place.
"I didn't raise you to be a criminal! Not even when you're going after outlaws!"
"So what am I supposed to do?! Let them walk all over me like an idiot? Mom, we need to teach them a lesson—not to mess with us!"
"What were you even doing there in the first place?! I don't remember allowing you to go to Felmorra!"
"I got a job!"
"What job?"
"Some motorcycle workshop owner said he'd give me extra cash if I brought him some motor parts. I need money, Mom! I want to buy things too!"
"You could have just asked me nicely. When have you ever wanted something and I didn't give it to you?"
"Mom, I ain't some princess or something!"
As the hours passed, and by dinner, the conversation had turned serious. Their frustration had subdued, and finally, they could cool down and talk calmly.
"I've decided," Marie said with a nod, a sign she had already thought this through. "I'm going to put you in AEGIS."
"What?!" Jacques was clearly displeased with the decision—and he had his reasons. "No! You don't get to tell me where to go! I decide what I want to become!"
"No, you're going to AEGIS. I don't care what you think or feel—you're going. And I'm doing this for your own good," Marie said firmly, looking Jacques straight in the eye, even bolder than Jacques could be.
Without saying a word, Jacques wiped his mouth and left the dining room. He walked out of the house, leaving Marie behind. No, he didn't bring his belongings—he wasn't planning to leave Marie. He was just trying to cool his head. All these talks had drained him. He felt misunderstood, and controlled.
He loved Marie—she had taught him everything he needed to know about being human (she didn't teach him how to steal motorcycle parts, though). But his future belonged to him. He didn't like the idea of someone else having power over it.
Jacques drove away at 80 km/h for thirty minutes, losing himself on the streets without any direction, turning off the GPS. Until he reached a dead end at a cliff, where he could see Mojinko's city lights glowing down the hill.
From this spot, he could see every corner of Mojinko—well, that was just an expression—he could easily spot the cotton field with Marie's three-story house sitting in the middle of it. She was almost fifty now, never married, never had kids, living her life as a professor of astroanthropology.
Jacques had heard she was a teacher at AEGIS once, but it wasn't long before she decided she wasn't suited for living on a floating castle. So she bought the land and started her peaceful life. One day, when she died, Jacques would inherit it all. But he wasn't excited about it. The idea of settling down in one place forever was horrifying. He wanted to travel vast and far, see the unexplored, uncover the mysterious unknown horizons—even go beyond the stars!
Sitting on his motorcycle, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. When Russell did it, he always looked cool. Probably where Jacques got the idea.
Grey smoke disappeared into the thin air as he smiled proudly at his sleek Atkinstall, admiring the long bullet scratch near the gas tank.
His finger traced the line, like a scar left on a gladiator's skin, and he smiled, remembering what had happened a few days ago. A group of space bikers had bullied him, breaking his phone and wallet, but he got the last laugh. They had no idea that, while they were distracted, he had snatched their wallet full of cash and the key to their motorcycle.
But Jacques wasn't done with them. He waited until each of them entered the diner, leaving only one guy behind to watch their stuff while they partied. Easy. Jacques landed a sucker punch to the guy's face, breaking his nose and stunning him.
"Oh! My nose! You b----!"Before he could finish whining about the pain, Jacques followed up with a quick strike to the back of his head, knocking the guy out cold. While the guy was out, Jacques dragged him aside and noticed he was wearing a cool, brand-new leather jacket, so he stole it.
Then Jacques messed with their motorcycles. He stole parts like the fuse, cables, battery, and even the rearview mirror to resell on the black market—all while sabotaging the engines.
He had quick hands—really quick hands—honed from experience, and a multifunctional pocket knife that he usually carried around just for the can opener, but now the other tools finally came in handy.
After finishing everything, he revved the Atkinstall outside the diner to challenge the pirates. When they rushed out, the bikers who had bullied him recognized Jacques right away.
"That kid!! I knew he was a troublemaker!"Now that same kid was sitting on their motorcycle, making sure they saw he had claimed it—payback for the phone they had stomped.
"Get him!"
Jacques sped off on the stolen bike with the stolen parts. The raiders tried to chase him, of course, but they couldn't even start their motorcycles. The wheels were off, the headlamps were stolen, the cables were cut, and even the exhausts were soaking wet.
Only one motorcycle could start, and it belonged to Beef, the boss of the gang. No, Jacques didn't know for sure if Beef was the owner; he just saw the Hex brand on the motorcycle—the fastest and best brand for racing bikes on Planet Alayan. Jacques had been looking for a challenge, so he had left that one untouched.
Beef chased him with a shotgun in hand. That guy had grown up without a mother and never knew what love was, so he wouldn't hesitate to kill a little troublemaker like Jacques. He fired, trying to harm Jacques, but somehow his bullets missed their target. The closest hit was the last shot, where he apparently aimed for the gas tank but only carved a scratch mark on it. Jacques was lucky—the bullet didn't hit him; it just tore the bottom of his leather jacket before finally grazing the gas tank and leaving a scratch mark.
It was Beef's last shot. Slowly, his motorcycle began losing power. No matter how hard he twisted the throttle, the engine just died, and the wheels merely glided.
Jacques took the flyover, and his laughter echoed like a satisfying mockery.
Apparently, the kid just wanted to know how fast a Hex motorcycle could go against an Atkinstall. He hadn't touched the engine—he had only removed the rubber seal from the gas cap, disrupting the pressure and causing the motorcycle to lose power over time.
Back in the present, Jacques coughed hard, the smoke from his cigarette choking him. He threw the cigarette away, wondering why anyone would love it.
Anyway, he decided he would talk to Marie about it. He wanted to figure out what he wanted to do in life—maybe travel, away from home, just him and the Atkinstall. Maybe even travel to Planet Earth to learn how humanity lived before they decided to migrate to another galaxy.
She would understand… or maybe she wouldn't?
Maybe he should just pack his important belongings, leave some money behind as compensation for raising him, and then become a free man without ever coming back.
Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.
As Jacques sat on the motorcycle, he froze.
In the middle of the cotton field... fire spread quickly, engulfing the three-story house that stood in the middle of it.