Chapter 1 - The Move of My Life

Eragon POV

Thud. Thud.

There it was again. What the hell was that noise? Oh, yeah. That's probably Uncle Garrow moving some boxes. Stupid boxes and stupid idea of moving house to go live with some long-lost Uncle Brom and Aunt Selena I've never heard of before. Why couldn't I just stay here in Dagenham? With my best mates Baldor, Albriech and Nolfra- Nolfravell. Oh god, I closed my eyes momentarily and it all came rushing back…

Everyone was cheering for Nolfravell in his black, first gen. Subaru Impreza. Hey, it may have been first gen., but with a bit of tuning and a turbocharger, that thing moved like a granny on steroids. Nolfravell was owning those punks, drifting around Broad Street into Ford Road like a pro and then hitting that acceleration. Wow, he was good. Not even that douche Othmund from Cerberus, in the electric blue Mistsubishi Evo IV, could catch him. He had this race in the bag… or so I thought.

Suddenly Othmund has a burst of speed from switching on his nitrometh tank catching everyone by surprise, even Mark whose head honcho of the Daggers, the group I'm in. Othmund rapidly gains on Nolfravell who then switches on his nitrometh too. But he switches too late and Othmund whizzes past - or should have, instead he just skims his front right tyre with Nolf's back left. Nolf goes flying, losing control, desperately trying to turn the steering wheel and right his car but instead he rolls. He rolls five times agonisingly slowly to us. He wrecked. Othmund wrecked him. And the sly bastard crosses the end of Ford Road looking like the smug asshole he is. Meanwhile, me and Baldor have rushed out first along with everyone else in the Daggers to help Nolf out of what used to look like a car, now a bunch of scrap metal.

It's bad: there's blood everywhere. Nolf's out cold and there's a long gash running from his temple to the side of his neck. It looks deep. I hear screams from his girlfriend, Fiona, of,

"Call 999! Somebody! Oh, Jesus…"

We didn't know it was too late by then, Nolf was still breathing but his time was up. The ambulance came, along with the fuzz. Mark told us to leg it; we didn't go at first but he shouted at us again to leave and then we stumbled away, into the alleyway where our bikes where.

The next day, I got a call from Mark. He told me to come to the hospital so I caught the bus and arrived there. I was greeted by the others, their faces like death itself and at that moment, I knew this was gonna be bad.

"Guys," he starts. "Nolf… Nolf is… Ah, shit. Nolf's in a level four coma. Doctors say he's likely not gonna make it but that's crap and we know it. Stay strong, Nolf will pull through."

Lies, all of it. I stayed there for the next hour, giving some excuse to Garrow about being out in town with friends. Garrow knew about the whole street racing thing already and he's just about cool with it. But this, ha. This will make him blow a gasket. We all went in and said a few words to Nolf, things like 'Come back soon mate', 'You'll be up in no time boy', 'Fiona's waiting for ya, I know what you two are like' and so on, all with tears in their eyes and sorrow in their voices.

After an hour, Mark and Fiona came out having what looks like been crying their eyes out. The word 'No' was constantly repeating over and over in my head. 'No, no, no, no…'. I stood up with the others from my seat in the waiting room. There was a long wait, about a minute or so of dead silence disturbed by sniffling and sobbing.

"Mark," I said, "What…? Just, say something for fuck's sake!" He didn't respond, his eyes unfocused and dilated. I ran up and grabbed his shirt, fisting it and slamming him against the wall.

"Talk, what's happened?!"

Slowly, Mark opened his mouth and whispered, every so softly 'He's gone. Dead. Just a minute ago.' I stared at him as hot tears pressed at my eyes and ran silently down my face. The pain was too much. It was all too much. As Mark hugged me tightly, I stood there and numbly returned his embrace. Fiona, was on the floor, kneeling and sobbing with some of the other girls giving whatever comfort they could; Albriech, Baldor, Zacharia, Orgnar and the rest: they were all silently crying.

'Damn it. God damn it…' was my last thought.

My eyes open and I fling myself up in a rush, causing me to feel temporarily dizzy as the blood quickly drains from my head. Eugh, not fun. That memory happened a month ago and it changed everything. Garrow found out about the whole incident about a week after it happened and everything turned nasty. He instantly banned me from racing, allowing me to keep the car but if he ever caught me racing again, saying shit would hit the fan would be an understatement. A big understatement. Then it seemed Garrow wanted to take things a step further: he decides I should switch schools and go live with Aunt Selena and Uncle Brom, his sister and brother-in-law to stay safe. What utter garbage.

"Eragon? Eragon?! Are you up yet you lazy trout?" shouts Garrow from downstairs.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm up old man." I reply back, slowly getting out of bed and trodding into the bathroom. My en-suite bathroom, another thing I'll miss having. After taking a quick shower, I change into some clothes I wore last night and head down for breakfast.

"Big day today, eh?" says Garrow.

"Yeah, Arsenal are playing Spurs, should be huge."

"Eragon. That's not what I meant. I'm talking about-"

"I know what you're bloody talking about. And I don't want to talk about it. End of."


"Don't call me that."

"Eragon… I know this is hard but it's for the best."

"Spare me the crap Uncle, everyone always says that. You're just too paranoid about me having an accident and potentially dying too like Nolf! It was a one off freak thing, it's not like we're dropping dead by the day!"

"So what if I am!" Garrow shouts back. "So whatif I am?! It's only natural that I'm worried! You're lucky I let you into this racing business in the first place and didn't say no instantly, although now I'm regretting that decision. Just hurry up and finish your breakfast and bring your boxes down."

We don't normally fight, actually hell, we never do come to think of it. I get along pretty well with my Uncle, I used to as well with Aunt Marian before she died of breast cancer. God my life sucks right now. No point in moping I guess.

I look through my stuff in the boxes one last time before bringing them down and can't resist going through some photos: my first Arsenal match with Roran (my cousin and Garrow's son) my first fight with some kid at school - I remember he was a pussy for sure, fishing with Garrow, they're all there. My firsts and the most prized one: a photo of me winning my first race in a black and white Nissan Skyline R33. I fondly stroke my fingers over the picture. No more street racing, no more tuned cars, no more rocket fuels; no more fun basically I think to myself.

'Uncle, I got my stuff down!' I say while dropping the last box in the front garden just outside the removal van.

"Good." He tenses suddenly, then relaxes. "Eragon, I'm sorry about earlier… I didn't mean to shout and I'm just worried about you s- your safety." He cut himself off.

"It's fine Uncle, I'm sorry for being such an ass about it, I'll deal with it. No worries, alright?"

My eyes start to film over. I can't help it: I've lived with Garrow since as long as I can remember. No mother, no father. Can't remember them and never seen 'em. I'm over it though. Long, long over it. Garrow starts to cry too and gives me a big ol' bear hug which I return just as intensely.

"Don't ever hesitate to visit, I'm sure Uncle Brom and Aunt Selena will be more than willing to let you come down by tube."

"I was hoping I could drive down…"

"I'm sure Brom will let you drive his car."

"I hope so. No car would be hell on earth for me."

"Alright, in you go. C'mon, in the van, before I get all teary-eyed on you again."

I hop in the van beside the driver and his co-worker. They seem like pretty cool dudes: the driver's called Ingvar and his partner Reldan. Apparently they'd been in the removal business since they were sixteen and worked together for a decade now. As we set off, I wave a quick goodbye to Garrow and stare straight ahead, not looking back. I decide to pass the time by asking the guys about cars, hoping it would provide some entertainment for the 3 hour journey to Kensington. Fortunately, these guys were serious petrol heads.

"No, no. The Nissan GT-R SpecV would pummel a Gallardo in a race anyday!" argues Ingvar.

"You've lost it mate! Gallardo would do it in on the straights. SpecV would be eating it's dust practically." claims Reldan.

"I reckon you're both right. SpecV would take the corners much better but it would lose out on straights. It's only got a 4 litre compared to the Gallardo's 5 litre V10."

"Aha, see I'm right!" they both simultaneously shout. "No, the kid said I was right!" they both suddenly argue. And it goes on like this for a while, much to my amusement.

Kensington. That's full of fops and some rich people. Huh, this will be interesting. I hope the kids won't be stuck up pricks as the stereotype goes. Garrow never talked much about Uncle Brom and Aunt Selena; if I ever asked, I swear he would always stiffen ever so slightly then wave my question off with some vague, half-hearted answer. I had always thought they must be rich, why else would they live in Kensington? Suddenly, the idea of having more money than I was used to comes to mind.

'Huh, maybe they might buy me a car if I'm good…' I muse to myself. Meanwhile, Ingvar and Reldan are still bickering like no tomorrow.

"But the Bugatti Veyron is just… just… a cheat!"

"Whaddaya mean a cheat? It's a work of art you dolt. W16, leather seats, 1000bhp-"

"Actually it's 987." I interrupt.

"Whatever kiddo." Ingvar gives me a flat, unfriendly stare. "Anyway as I was saying, before I was rudelyinterrupted by someone," he says while giving me a pointed look, "the Veyron is a beauty. It's the God of all cars. The McLaren F1 can go die in a hole for all I care."

"Take that back!" shouts Reldan. "The F1 is true engineering, it's got a middle seat for Christ's sake. That's ruddy brilliant."

"Only cause you're a gaming nerd. Nerd."



"Shut up, guys. Seriously, put a sock in it for now." I quickly plug my headphones in my ear and listen to my iPod before any of them come back with some witty response. I look at my watch. It's already been 2 hours; guess the bickering helped time pass at least. Suddenly a car flies past, doing at least 90mph, with two police cars hot on its tail. Another memory comes flooding back…

"Faster Gunnar! The fuzz are gaining you idiot!" cried Mandel.

"Just be quiet Manny. I've got my foot down hard, what else can I do? And, no, I'm not wasting meth on escaping some cops." Gunnar calmly replied. Yeah, Gunnar was an ice block: always kept his cool in pretty much every situation. I swear, if someone put a gun to his head he wouldn't piss himself, he'd spit out frozen bullets. That's how cool he is. Nothing makes him sweat. I was in the back seat, with Mandel (or Manny as we like to tease him) sitting shotgun and Gunnar driving. We'd just come back from a race night, which was before Nolfravell died, and Gunnar had just gone over the speed limit, doing 55 in a 50mph zone. Damn fuzz were onto us in an instant. Gunnar pulled the handbrake and slid around the corner, while one police car went straight on and the other braked hard and almost hit a streetlamp while turning.

"Woo! You lost 'em man." I crowed in delight.

"Not yet, one left." Manny replied and pointed behind us. Sure enough, that car which braked hard was still following us.

"Argh. Leave off you slags!" Gunnar muttered in frustration. He drifted around a gentle corner, leading from Heathway onto Arnold Road.

"Should lose 'em here. I'll dive in a bush and cut the engine and the lights." The lone police car went straight ahead, not noticing us at all.

"What a retard. Nice going bro." complimented Mandel. Gunnar fist bumped Mandel and pretended to check his finger nails, replying,

"Never any doubt. Cops ain't got shit on me." We drove on and they dropped me off back at Garrow's that night.

"Hey kid. Oi, Eragon! We're here son." says Ingvar, while shaking my shoulders to wake me up. Again, my eyes fly open as I shake myself off, stretch out and unplug my headphones. I climb out the lorry and look over my new home. And damn, it is impressive. It's a two storey house, with a huge front garden lined with all sorts of flowers and bushes. The building itself is detached and much bigger than Garrow's house, at least three or four times its size. And standing in the, what looks like, mahogany front door are two people who have to be Aunt Selena and Uncle Brom. They are both smiling and quietly talking to each other but they both have different expressions on their faces: the man, Brom, looks a bit miffed and the woman, Selena, looks like she was bursting from the seams of her clothes with joy. Their eyes though, they tell a completely different story. They seem… longing, as if they'd just looked upon their firstborn child for the first time ever. Dismissing those thoughts, I walk up to them and introduce myself.

"Hello, I'm Eragon. It's nice to finally meet you Uncle Brom and Aunt Selena." See, I do have some manners; not all us Londoners are rude and obnoxious. "And your house, it's bloo- I mean it's amazing." Ah damn it. Had to ruin it, way to go Ery. Great first impression right there.

"Hello there Eragon, it's good to meet you too. After all the things Garrow's been telling us, we couldn't wait to see you." says Brom plainly, thankfully ignoring my lapse in politeness. He seems a bit reserved to be honest but I shouldn't pass judgement so soon I guess. Who knows, maybe he's a petrol head too?

"Eragon, it's so good to see you finally! Ignore your Uncles' teasing and come inside, quickly. You must be hungry yes? No, no. Don't be stubborn now. Sit down and eat s- sweetheart. The movers will bring all your things in." says Selena, who still seems to be bubbling over with joy. At least someone was happy, I like her already. However, I can't help but notice how she stuttered over saying 'sweetheart'. It sounded as if she was going to say son. Weird. I go inside and if I was blown over by the outside of the house, the inside might as well have been a tsunami.

Dark, blue marble tiles line the floor of the hallway, with a grand oak staircase spiralling upstairs to my left. The living room is incredibly spacious, with a 40 inch LED TV hooked up to the wall and three senator sofas lining the outside of the room with a large glass coffee table filling the middle. I catch a quick glimpse of a swimming pool outside in the back garden and a training room packed with barbells, dumbbells, rowing and cycling machines, a treadmill along with an obstacle course it seems. I wonder who uses them now that Brom and Selena both look like they're in their late 30's or early 40's. Well, at least I can continue my training regime Roran had set me up with back in Dagenham; I'd put on a fair amount of muscle and had finally converted my four pack into a six pack. I'm still not as muscled as Roran but I don't want to get too carried away anyway. We arrive in the kitchen and my senses are overloaded: a roast turkey sandwich and apple pie slice sit on the breakfast bar, practically beckoning to me with their non-existent arms.

"So, Eragon. What do you think of Kensington then? Must be pretty different compared to Dagenham." asks Brom, breaking the silence that had built up while I ate.

"It's pretty cool. It's certainly cleaner than Dagenham, that's for sure."

"I imagine it would be. Dagenham is on the East side of London after all."

"Brom, don't be so rude dear. Dagenham must have a lot of fond memories for Eragon here." chides Selena. As soon as she says that, yet more flashbacks flood into my head. I wave them off quickly and get up after I finish eating.

"I was wondering if I could take look inside the garage. Would that be alright with you guys?" I ask hopefully. I know there have to be some epic cars stowed away, there just have to be.

"Of course, go right ahead. Garrow told us you were a car man just like my husband." says Selena, shaking her head with mirth.

"Just don't break anything, Ok?" calls Brom as I bolt towards my destination. I open the side door and find myself in pure bliss. There are five cars, all lined up alongside each other. A crimson red Lamborghini Aventador, a yellow Ferrari 458 Italia, a jet black Chevrolet Corvette C6, a red and white striped Ford GT and a racing green Aston Martin V12 Vanquish.

"God almighty…" I breath.

"Quite a sight aren't they?" says Brom, strolling up alongside me.

"Yeah, they are. Do you still drive them at all?"

"Sometimes I take them for a spin. But I'm not the motor head I once was."

"Was?" I ask, hoping for an elaboration.

"That's a story for another time Eragon. Come back inside now, your Aunt and I need to talk to you about a few things." Back to reality I guess.

So this is my first story ever published on FF. I've got another one in the works which is set in the actual Inheritance Cycle universe i.e. Alagaesia called 'To The Rest'. For now though, I'm going to continue with this for a few chapters and hopefully publish the other story next week sometime maybe. Please review and tell me what you think, that would honestly brighten up my dull days currently filled with revision for January exams. Thanks in advance guys and girls.

P.S. Feel free to ask/PM me any questions about London, the areas, etc. I don't mind answering those kinds of questions.