Okay then, here's the next chapter. Now I had to split it into two after writing it since it seemed like an appropriate thing to do. I've written about a third of the next chapter, which was sort of the 'excess' if you like of this chapter. Sorry no more characters are introduced, but in the next one there will be loads of them. I promise and you'll see why at the end. Thanks again for the reviews guys, helps me out greatly.

Dill Dragon: Thanks for the compliments. And yeah, 1st person is harder to write in but I thought it would definitely suit this story, since it's based in London and I can get the London lingo going pretty well. I was worried about the 'I' thing too but good to know I've not messed that up. Glad I got the characters across well, I was intending for a cheeky Saphira. And at first there will be rivalry, but it will progress, you know how it goes: hate turns to… ;)

So, R&R guys and enjoy.

P.S. 'Unrivaled Mind' has two wickedly good stories going right now, 'The Flip of a Coin' and 'An Unwanted Bond'. I think most of you guys have heard of it/follow it, but for those who haven't, go do so. They're simply brilliant and helped me get going on mine. (Also, if you like ExA, that's even more reason to check them out)

Chapter 3 - Welcome To Kensington

Arya POV

What an abysmal day.

Firstly, Saphira dragged me to somebody's birthday party, I think her name was Ashanta or something, where I was standing around like an awkward outcast since I barely knew anyone. Then there were also the insufferable twats who kept trying to hit on me.

Secondly, it turns out we lost again in today's line up. The Paladins came first, which was surprising considering their recent track record, the Forsworn second, the Wardens third and the Smithies last, which wasn't surprising the least bit at all. When would they learn power isn't everything? Muscle cars most certainly aren't 'God's gift to us uneducated Brits', I quote. Imbeciles.

Third and foremost, I came home from the party to the sound of Mum and Dad screeching and yelling at each other over some pointless issue. It's a constant cycle of quarrelling and then forgiveness. I just fear the day it goes too far and one of them ends up doing something they regret for life.

As soon as I opened the door, I grabbed my keys and got on my bike to drive to town and walk around for a while. I really didn't need to hear their petty argument right now. They don't care anyway: as long as I achieve straight A*'s and 'work hard', I'm free to do what I desire. Firnen, my adopted brother, was probably out with his friends somewhere as always. He's 18 so I guess he's entitled to the same independence as I am.

I walk down Gloucester Road aimlessly while mulling over today's events, occasionally pulling out my phone and checking for text messages. It's pretty quiet tonight. That's always been an odd thing about Kensington: chaotic by day, serene by night. I find that pretty relaxing - the stress of today already feels like it's evaporating off my shoulders.

The peace is disrupted momentarily as four cars madly bolt down the road. I look at the time. It's 11:40p.m. That means the night race had already begun ten minutes ago. Squinting up the road, I see that the Wardens have pulled ahead slightly. Good, at least we can retain some of our dignity.

Valmir was in the lime green Diablo. I remember he'd spent a while fine-tuning his gear ratios. I recommended that he just buy a new box altogether and replace the driveshaft to save time but he objected straightaway. I should've known he'd be attached to that car by now; he's had it for almost a year or so now. His adjustments better have paid off and he sure as hell better win this race, otherwise Wylandriah's going to annihilate him.

While looking around at the shops and night lights, I spot two cars pull up next to somebody on the opposite side of the street. The boy, it seems, has a tense conversation with the driver. His expression changes several times, from wariness to confliction and then to… excitement? Wait, those cars - he's going to race the other driver. That's madness! He'll be in a GT-R up against a 993 GT3. How could he possibly win in a car considerably weaker in comparison? And does he even know what he's getting himself into here?

Before he climbs into the car, the boy abruptly looks up and starts scanning my side of the road until he sees me. He stares closely at me, before pulling himself away at the sound of the other driver's voice. Getting in the car swiftly, he starts it up and positions it before the traffic lights adjacent to the other driver's Porsche. The lights change to green and both cars thrust forward, with the Porsche getting the better start as expected.

I can't help but replay the image of him eyeing me over in my mind. By the looks of it, he appears to be about my age or a year younger at minimum. I couldn't see all of him completely, due to the fact he was standing behind the car's door, but his face betrayed a few things about him nevertheless. His eyes were a coffee brown colour and held a certain intensity about them. At the surface, there was a sparkle of excitement but I was convinced something darker lay beneath that. He had a sharp jaw line and his face was set in a firm manner at that moment. I could easily imagine it being more relaxed though. His hair was tawny brown and unkempt in a casual fashion as well. In general, it seemed he was laidback on the outside but definitely hiding some stronger feelings deeper inside. He knew how to mask them though, similiar to what I do.

I shake myself out of these thoughts. Why was I so preoccupied over his face? I suppose it was moderately attractive.

"Moderately? That's a lie Arya and you know it." I murmur to myself, shaking my head crossly for even thinking about the matter.

I run back to my bike and start it up, knowing I needed to intervene or at least make sure the boy was OK. He must not know how ruthless racing is in Kensington. When people wreck here, it's damn serious. Articles and stories appear in the paper and on television practically every day. No way was this going to end well for him, especially since he's probably a novice or amateur of some sort. Luckily my motorbike could keep pace with them: it's a black and electric orange Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6R, 600cc with a top speed of roughly 190mph. Like hell it couldn't catch up. I put my helmet on and set off after the Nissan and the Porsche.

Eragon POV

Right off the bat, the Porsche went ahead. No surprise there.

"Shit." I curse.

My strategy is simple: what I lose on the straights, I need to make up for on the corners. We hurtle down Gloucester Road and as soon as we come to Southwell Gardens I discover I have a huge advantage. The guy in the Porsche just brakes sharply and turns round the corner: he doesn't know how to drift. The question is, do I still know how to?

Time to find out. I flip down to second and flick the steering wheel right, feeling the car lock up at the rear. I then counter-steer while praying the tail swings out. It does. I jab the acceleration pedal, before letting off a bit to control the drift around the corner. Looks like I still got it. Straightening the wheels, I put my foot down hard and shift up to third. Now Fourth. Fifth. These Skylines move quick, no doubt about that.

"Thank you Manny! How do ya like me now you prick?!" I shout in the car.

I see the driver ahead take a quick glance at his rear-view mirror. I'd gained on him for sure and now he was nervous. It's a short distance before we have to turn again on to Grenville Road. Setting myself up for a drift again, I realise that if I time this right, I should overtake him on the corner and get a bit of a lead on him. The moment his brake lights come up, I spring into action.

I switch down to third, to maintain more of my momentum this time, and flick the steering wheel to the right again. That feeling of the rear wheels locking up never gets old. I remember it being petrifying when I first started learning the ropes from Manny; I always used to think the car was going to spin out of my control. Now? Now, it sets me alight with confidence.

Counter-steering and jabbing the acceleration once more, I drift round and barely miss skimming the Porsche by a few millimetres or so. But I pass him on the inside and now I'm ahead. It's essential I make the most of it since Grenville road is another long straight, meaning 'Porsche boy' is going to win back the lead indefinitely. I manage about hundred metres before he shoots past, flipping me off as he goes by.

"Son of a… What a bellend." I grumble.

As I grab the gear stick to shift up to fifth, my grip slips slightly and my finger passes over a bump. On closer inspection, I realise it's a button. That means the car must have a nitromethane or a nitrous cylinder in here somewhere because this has to be a micro-switch that comes with the fuel tank. I take a hasty look around the car while keeping my eyes on the road half the time. There.

Underneath the glove box, sticking out ever so slightly, is a blue cylinder with a hazardous sign and 'N2O' written on it. Admittedly, I've never used nitrous before so I had no idea of its capabilities and power enhancements. It was better than nothing. I had to keep it a secret though and save it for the final straight if I had any chance of beating the guy in the Porsche. I reckon it's highly likely he doesn't know about it or he would never have let me race him in this car.

"Surprise, motherfucker…" I mutter with a dark look on my face.

We were coming up to the second last turn, going on to the one-way Victoria Grove. I hope it was empty, or at any rate fairly quiet, or this was going to turn into one nasty game of dodgems. The Porsche up ahead braked hard again and rounded the corner, clipping the curb on its way out causing the car to rock slightly. I don't want to sound arrogant or anything but this guy is evidently an amateur. He's all over the place whenever he tries to turn harshly, even at only relatively high speeds.

No sooner had the thought come to my mind than the Porsche suddenly swerved left to avoid an oncoming car.

"Brilliant. That's just brilliant." I spit sarcastically. "Here we go…" Looks like it wasn't empty but the complete opposite: busy as ever.

I slow right down, switching all the way down to second and taking the corner smoothly before getting back on the acceleration. No way was I drifting around this corner and running the risk of being hit by another car or, worse still, a lorry. I take my chances in the right lane, thankful the road is lit up comprehensively with new street lights. A pair of headlights rapidly enters my vision. I swerve left as the car drives past, blasting its horn at me.

"Sorry, not much I can do pal. People to see, places to go and races to win." I smirk.

I'm full of adrenaline right now. Fear, which really should be present when driving down a one-way street the opposite way, is non-existent. What a rush!

I'm able to make it to the end of the road in one piece, having scarcely avoided three cars, a van and a ten tonne lorry in total. The guy driving the lorry looked like a deer caught in a pair of headlights; his eyes were wide open with fright. I am also virtually covered in sweat from head to toe now though, which is affecting my ability to grasp the steering wheel firmly. I quickly switch hands and wipe my palms in turn individually on the front of my hoodie.

"Better." I say.

I set myself up to drift for the last time in the race, while carefully fingering the micro-switch on the gearstick in anticipation. I had to time this perfectly. Too early and I run the risk of burning out especially since I don't know how full the tank is. Too late and I won't pass the Porsche in time. Drifting round the corner, using the same in-grained technique I'd used twice before in the race, I hit the acceleration once more and keep my finger poised over the switch. I shift up to third gear.

"Wait for it…" Boom, fourth gear.

"Wait…" Fifth gear. The rev-counter is at 5000rpm, a thousand off the red line.

That's my signal, any more and activating the nitrous could run the risk of blowing the engine when it goes into red. I thump the switch and hold it down. Immediately, the car starts to vibrate violently as it surges forward with its newfound power.

The rev-counter shoots up to 5500rpm and, in a few seconds, is already just over 6000. The speedo lurches from 80mph to 90, then 100 and 110 in rapid succession. It continues to rise: 120, 130, 140. The Porsche is maxing out as well but I'm gaining. And fast. There's only about five meters between us. Now four. Three. Two. One. I overtake him and can't help but shoot him a smug look. God, I am such a douche sometimes.

I continue to hold down the switch and the throttle. The speedo is now approaching its limit of 155mph. I take a glimpse at the rear-view mirror. He's done. The Porsche is at least 10 meters behind me now and the lights are only 50 meters away.

While looking in the mirror, I spot an orange motorbike about 20 meters behind me which is absolutely tearing down the road. I only had a quick look in the mirror, but it seems like the figure riding it is a woman. Refocusing on the road ahead, I count down the distance to the lights in my head. That was significantly harder than I thought since the car feels like it's now shaking itself to pieces; I hope it holds out for the last 40 meters. The bike suddenly shoots by making me jump, just as the car hits a bump, so I end up smacking the top of my head on the roof.

"Bloody Mary! My head!" I roar. Unexpectedly, the bike turns off onto a road to the right, disappearing from view completely.

The pain is worth it though, I think as I block it out. There's only 30 meters to sweet success. Now only 20. 10. 5. I cross the lights as they turn green, making the victory feel all that much more satisfying. I let go of the switch and pad the brakes, slowing down gently while sticking my hand out the window and pumping my fist in the air, whooping and hollering in glee.

My joy is short lived though as my jaw goes slack in seeing five police cars burst out onto the road ahead of me, blaring their sirens and horns to force people out of the way. I slam down on the brakes and do a 180 turn, all the while wondering where on earth the fuzz came from. Had they been tracking us? Was that other driver an undercover cop? The answer becomes clear as soon as I turn around.

Ahead of me, I see the Porsche driver has skidded to a stop sideways. He smiles mockingly at me while slowly waving his phone in front of him. He'd called the cops while we were on the final straight. Now I'd get nicked and he'd drive off innocent. And all because he'd lost and this was his way of getting back at me. The little…

No way is that happening. I hit the throttle hard and chase after the Porsche as he attempts to escape as well. Realising that this was a futile endeavour, I decide to turn off at the next available road. l see a street sign labelled 'Kynance Mews' and prepare to drift round it since I wanted to slow down as little as possible. If I get nicked, it will not bode well for me. Aunt Selena will be disappointed in me, Uncle Brom will blow up in a fit of rage and Garrow would do the exact same. Like I said, no way is that happening.

Or not. As the back end flings out, I hear a dull thud and the car spins out of my control. I release the throttle and desperately wrench the steering wheel in an attempt to straighten the car out. It was a useless effort. The Nissan, while spinning at high speed, hits the edge of the pavement which is about 15 to 20cm above the road forcing it to flip over and lift off the ground.

At this point, my eyes are shut tightly and my hands are grasping the steering wheel firmly as I rotate through the air. The car jolts suddenly and I feel the vibrations rattle my body painfully. Eventually the Nissan comes to a halt and we end up perpendicular to the ground i.e. with the car lying on its side, with me feeling like I'd just been run over by an 18-wheeler.

My head is pounding and my hearing is distorted, any noise becoming amplified and unclear. When I open my eyes, everything is unfocused and hazy. My muscles are screaming in agony and my limbs remain motionless. I undo the seatbelt, with my hand trembling violently, and clutch my throbbing head. One of my hands slips down the side of my face. I pull it back in front of me and see a streak of glistening red across my palm. I'm bleeding. I move my head back slightly but that just causes me to feel light headed.

"Not a good idea." I groan.

My hearing begins to return to normal and I hear sirens approaching rapidly. Cops. I'd completely forgotten about them.

"I need to get out. Now." I mumble while looking out the car, my vision having cleared finally.

Thankfully, the car was in contact with the ground on the passenger's side and not on mine so I wasn't half-trapped. I pull on the door handle to open it. The door doesn't even budge an inch. I push harder but still nothing. Panic had set in completely by now. Hoping I don't bruise myself further, I ram the door with my shoulder and it flies open, while falling off its hinges.

"Whoops. Not like anyone cares though anyway." I mutter, my lips working better now.

I clamber out the car, disoriented, and stagger forwards before swiftly limping away. I look behind me and see that the police cars have stopped, with officers getting out of their cars running towards me. I'm done. How was I supposed to out run them when I couldn't even jog, let alone sprint?

A motorbike unexpectedly appears from the alleyway up ahead. Wait, it's the same one orange one I saw ten minutes ago. It stops in front of me. The driver reaches out and signals to me to get on the bike behind her. I limp faster and grasp her outstretched arm while scrambling onto the bike ignoring the protests of my leg muscles. As I loosely grab her waist, we spin around and drive off back down the alleyway away from the cops to my relief.

I was having serious trouble staying awake though and I could feel my eyelids drooping. The driver's fragrance is intoxicating and its sweet scent travels up my nose, causing me to feel even drowsier. Luckily the noise of the bike, as well as the fact that we're constantly turning and twisting onto different roads, manage to keep me conscious albeit barely. I hope we arrive at wherever we were going soon or I really am going to end up passing out and falling off onto the road.

Arya POV

It all played out exactly as I feared it would. I beckon to the injured boy to get on and he grabs the arm I extend before settling behind me. I then do a 180 and sprint back down Kynance Way back to the Wardens base, hoping that he wasn't severely harmed.


So, Arya was sort of right then. Eragon wrecked big time. Anyways, next chapter up in at least a week's time, if not likely before then, where things start to get moving. Once again, review if you can and I'll see you next chapter.