Prologue: The Golden Hour
Chaos. When the being once known as Marcus Colburn finally regained consciousness, chaos was all he could see. Ethereal, colorful, and with an unrivaled beauty, like an infinite kaleidoscope of raw energy. These particles, which once held together entire worlds - entire universes - were now unleashed into the void as they desperately struggled to find their way back together. Struggling to connect.
To find where they belong.
Marcus reached out, sweeping through the cosmic glitter with his hand. Only… he found he didn’t quite have a hand anymore. He no longer had any physical form to speak of. His body had been ripped apart on a molecular level, and every atom of his human body had seemingly been altered into what appeared to be pure golden energy, which slightly drifted behind as he moved his arm through the lustrous cloud of matter. Each one of them contained a piece of his essence, his consciousness, his very soul. As Marcus took the moment to process what had just happened, he felt strangely at peace. He had finally won. After tens of thousands of years, his journey was finally over. His story was at an end.
But his duty was not over just yet.
“It will not end like this. I must return everything back to the way it was. Even if I cease to be.”
Marcus deeply exhaled and focused all of his energy, willingly dissolving his form into atoms and sending them far across the endless void. In a blink, each one became the core for a new universe, and order had begun once again. As Marcus exerted himself to use all of his energy, the many colorful particles of each universe began to collectively return to where they belonged - exactly into the same spot they had left off.
“I can… I will… I must…”
Each universe was in place. Marcus was ready. With one final collective push to jumpstart the flow of time and space once again, each piece of Marcus’s soul became the singularity for a new Big Bang.
“I AM.”
When Marcus opened his eyes, he suddenly felt a sensation of hard pavement under his bare padded feet as he found himself standing in the middle of what appeared to be a racetrack. As the warm setting evening sun shone on his face, he marveled for a moment at the sight before him. That was, until he suddenly heard horrified shouts from a crowd and the sound of a car engine getting louder. Marcus turned his head to the noise, his green eyes widening as a small purple racecar being driven by a little orange dog was careening through the air upside-down and quickly heading straight for his head as it spun out of control.
Today would be the last day of Tag Barker’s life.
______________________________________________
Earlier that day, Tag began that morning as she would’ve any other. As usual, the little orange beagador awoke before anyone else, her excited voice filling the bedroom as she shouted out to the rest of her family still sleeping in their large shared bed.
“HEY YOU DOGS! TODAY’S THE DAY!”
“Nghh… what’s that now, Tag?” her mom asked politely as she sleepily opened her eyes.
“The day I finally get to race against Sam Whippet in a real race! And this time, I’m gonna beat him!”
“Ugh, you say that every time you race Sam, little sis,” her older brother, a yellow dog named Gilber, grumbled as he put his pillow tightly over his head.
“Yeah, but this time, I’m really gonna do it! I can feel it!”
“You say that every time too, you know,” Tag’s older sister, a white dog with colorful fur splotches named Cheddar Biscuit, smiled as she gave an affirmative ‘good-morning’ honk on the clown horn in her hand.
“Don’t listen to them, Tag, I know you’re gonna do great,” Grandmaw Marge said encouragingly with a yawn as she sat up in bed, tickling Grandpaw Mort’s ear against his face to wake him up.
“Thanks, Grandmaw! I’m gonna do one last check on my racecar and then I’ll be back in time for breakfast! Paw, can you make bacon and eggs again - hold the eggs?”
“Of course, anything for my little champion,” Tag’s father smacked his lips as he cuddled up with his wife, still needing five more minutes.
Before anyone knew it, the ever-eager Tag was already out the bedroom door and down the stairs.
“Do we have to go? We all know she’s not going to beat Sam anyway,” Gilber whined, “No one beats Sam Whippet. Besides, I wanted to go fossil-hunting today with my friends.”
“Oh hush, Gilber,” Maw turned to her son. “We all need to be supportive of her, as a family. And you’ll still have plenty of time to go fossil-hunting, the race doesn’t start until this evening.”
“Oh yeah, uh… right. Well how come Spike doesn’t have to go?” Gilber pouted, still thinking it was going to be a waste of time.
“Because Spike is up in space, bone-head.” Cheddar flicked the cowlick in her younger brother’s neatly-combed hair. “He can’t afford to come all the way down for every little thing going on in our lives.”
“MOM, Cheddar called me a bone-head!”
“Ugh, Cheddar, don’t call your brother names,” Maw grumbled, still waking up. “Gilber, we’re all going to Tag’s race and that’s final, so no more complaining.”
“Fine…” the two siblings conceded as their baby brother, Yip, was still sleeping soundly in Maw’s arms.
Tag practically burst through the door of the Pawston Pawtomotive garage, the car shop her grandparents owned next door, when she was surprised to see a familiar mustachioed face standing near her car with a torque wrench in paw.
“Sam Whippet? What are you doing here?” Tag curiously asked the tall blue and white greyhound.
“Ah, there you are, Tag! I was just waiting to wish you good luck for today’s race!” Sam replied with a friendly greeting in his usual charismatic bravado, casually setting the torque wrench down on the counter-top. “Did you know that these make the best back-scratchers? That’s a Sam Whippet guarantee!”
“Good luck to you too, Sam!” Tag replied excitedly as she approached him. Sam had been her helpful and supportive mentor for nearly a year now, and she was grateful for everything he had taught her. But now, she was ready to take the next step; in Tag’s eyes, she felt it was time for the student to become the teacher. “But I'm going all-out today, so you'd better watch out for me in your side-mirror!”
“I won’t go easy on you either, so I wouldn't expect anything less. Oh, I also wanted to give you this,” Sam said cryptically as he pulled out something small and golden from behind his back. It was a comb - but not just any comb.
“WHAT?!” Tag exclaimed at the sight. “Your lucky mustache-comb? But Sam, you once told me you can’t win a race without it! There’s no way I can accept this - I just couldn’t!”
“Nonsense, I insist. I’ve thought long and hard about it, and I think you should have it, Tag. You have potential - if anyone could possibly beat me, I’ve got a good feeling that someone is you. Besides, at the end of the day, it’s just a simple comb - I have plenty of other ones at home.” Sam said with a wink and a smile, patting Tag’s head. “But who knows, maybe it will bring you good luck too.
“Sam… this is one of the nicest things anyone’s ever given me. I… th-thank you!” Tag wrapped her arms around Sam's waist as she began to tear up, hugging him tightly.
“Don’t mention it. Now I must be off, you can never be too prepared for a big race.” Sam pulled Tag away from him and exited towards the garage door. “And Tag…”
Tag looked down at the shiny golden comb in her paws in awe, almost too focused on it before looking back up at her idol expectantly.
“...You’re a winner!”
Sam gave two confident finger-guns in her direction before disappearing around the corner, leaving Tag alone with the thoughtful gift.
‘That seals it. This is the day something great is going to happen, I just know it,’ Tag thought with an uncontainable giddy smile glued on her face.
‘Today, I’ll face my destiny head-on! And at top-speed!’
After a quick once-over on her racecar, Tag hastily returned back to the house to show everyone what she’d gotten from Sam. She rushed into the kitchen, nearly out of breath as she held up the golden comb.
“Sam Whippet just gave me his lucky mustache-comb! Isn’t that great?!”
“That’s wonderful, Tag!” Grandmaw said before sipping on her coffee.
“That Sam sure is a real treasure,” Grandpaw Mort nodded. “Always such a great sport, and generous to boot.”
“Uh, hate to break it to you, but you don’t have a mustache, Tag.” Gilber leered at his little sister teasingly. “Unless you plan on growing one out just for your boyfriend Sam, haha!”
“Sam Whippet’s not my boyfriend, Gilber, don’t be gross!” Tag shot him back a glare. “But for your information, even if I could grow a mustache, I’m sure mine would look way better than yours ever would!”
“N-nuh-uh!”
“Ya-huh!”
“Nuh-uh!”
“You two. Breakfast. Eat.” Maw turned with a motherly scowl as she set plates of bacon down on the table, putting a stop to the argument immediately without another word. Gilber and Tag each picked up a piece of bacon and bit down without breaking eye-contact.
“You’re just jealous because I have a lucky comb and you don’t,” Tag uttered smugly after she swallowed, picking up another piece and shoving it into her mouth.
“Psh, there’s no such thing as a ‘lucky’ comb, Tag,” Gilber scoffed proudly as he rolled his eyes. “Only a puppy would believe in that sort of thing.”
“I told you before, Gilber, I’m not a puppy. I’m a dog.” Tag glared as she chewed.
“Puppy.” Gilber mocked with a sneer.
“Dog.”
“Puppy~”
“That’s enough, Gilber, we’ve been through this before. Tag is a dog now, just like you or I, end of discussion.” Maw intervened once again as she sat down at the table with her own plate, and everyone else began to eat as well. She didn’t like to take sides with her kids, but Gilber had been especially snarky lately and was admittedly getting on much of the family’s nerves as of late. And besides, it was the truth - Tag had officially reached the point in every dog’s life where she officially wasn’t considered a puppy anymore. She gave her daughter Tag a knowing look of support, who gratefully looked back at her as if to say,
‘Thank you, Mom.’
The sun had risen and set in the sky, and the time had finally come for the race to start. Tag and her best friend, who was also her crew chief - a little blue terrier boy named Scooch - made their way together through the tunnel to the track as the sound of the crowd cheering could be heard from the entrance.
“Are you ready?” Scooch asked, breaking through her train of thought.
“I was born ready, Scooch!” Tag replied, more confident than ever before.
“I know you were, Tag,” Scooch said, trying his best to be supportive. “But no matter what happens tonight, I just want to say I lo-”
Scooch stopped himself, his furry blue cheeks turning a deep red as he’d nearly blurted out the deepest, darkest secret he had.
“What was that, Scooch?” Tag turned her head and innocently looked down at him as they proceeded through the gateway onto the track. The look in her eyes made his face feel like it was burning.
“Racers to the starting line!” the voice of the announcer said through the speakers.
“I just wanted to say… I’ll always be cheering you on! Hehe…” Scooch faked a smile, avoiding eye-contact with his best friend.
“Aw, I know you will, buddy!” Tag put on her helmet and gave Scooch a tight hug before heading to her signature purple racecar, which was waiting for her in position number five.
“Y-yeah, sure… ‘buddy’…” Scooch sighed quietly as he sulked, taking his position in the pit box with the other racers’ crew chiefs.
“Welcome to the Pawston Speedway!” the announcer continued, “Please rise for Pawston’s town anthem, sung by our very own Barkapellas - Tenor, Alto, and Bass!”
Everyone stood and held their paw over their heart as the Barkapellas began.
“O dogs of Pawston, eagerly we speeeed,
To win a race or help a dog in neeeed,
O dogs of Pawston, brave and true,
Sit up and howl a great ‘haroo’!
In Pawston, friendshiiip always takes the leeead!”
The audience howled as the anthem concluded, but soon quieted as the announcer spoke once more.
“Racers, start your engines!”
Tag put Sam’s lucky golden comb into the front compartment and turned the ignition key, the satisfying growl of the engine sending a familiar chill up her spine. No matter how many times she had raced already, that was a feeling that could never get old to her. Racing was Tag Barker’s whole life. Her calling.
Her destiny.
She looked ahead to Sam Whippet at the front, who happened to look back at her as well before giving her a little nod and salute with his fingers. Something about his grin seemed a little wider than usual.
“I’m a winner. I’m… a winner,” Tag repeated to herself, more assured now than ever that tonight, she would go down in history as the first racer to ever beat the Sam Whippet.
“On your marks…”
Tag closed her eyes and focused, her padded foot lightly teasing the pedal underneath.
“Get set…”
A deep breath in. A breath out. Time seemed to come to a halt as Tag’s fingers gripped the steering wheel. Her stomach tightened into knots as adrenaline pumped through her veins.
Tonight would change everything.
“Go, dogs, GO!”
Tag opened her eyes, slamming her foot down on the pedal the instant the bright starting light turned green.
In a matter of seconds, she had already managed to pass the three racers in front of her.
“Remember to hug the inside turns, Tag!” Scooch reminded her through her headset. “And easy on the gas on the sharp corners!”
“Thanks, pal,” Tag said as her unblinking eyes remained dead-set on Sam, who still had an easy lead on her. “This is why you’re my number one crew chief!”
“I’m your only crew chief.” Scooch chuckled.
“And you’re the only one I’ll ever need!” Tag replied.
Scooch said nothing as the race continued on, but felt as though he was going to melt into a mushy puddle at Tag’s words. To hear Tag say he was the only one she’d ever need… it gave him the boost he needed to finally come clean. To let Tag know exactly how he felt about her. And with any luck, hopefully she felt the same way about him, too.
“Hey, um… Tag?” Scooch asked nervously as Tag began the second lap, suddenly feeling his mouth starting to dry up like a desert.
“Talk to me, Scooch. How’s the race looking?” Tag asked, oblivious to Scooch’s imminent confession.
“I-I… um… s-see, there’s something I’ve kinda been wanting t-to tell you…”
“Hold that thought, buddy. I’m coming up onto Sam now! I’m actually doing it!”
Tag gritted her teeth and lowered her head to be more aerodynamic, closing the gap between herself and Sam. However, Sam took her by surprise and suddenly shifted into reverse, spinning effortlessly in a 180 and driving backwards to face her directly. It was like he had been merely toying with her, only allowing her to think for a moment that she had the chance of passing him.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Tag! I’m still going for the gold!” He didn’t even need to look behind him to know where he was going, having quite literally mastered this track both backwards and front. “But don’t cry, little pup, there’s always next time! After all…”
Sam shifted back into drive, spinning around and correcting himself before speeding off and gaining a further lead ahead of Tag.
“There’s more to racing than winning!”
“No no no, not again…” Tag scowled in frustration, slamming her foot down on the accelerator. It was easy for Sam to say that, as he’d won every single race he’d ever been in. But for Tag, it was always ‘next time, next time, next time’.
Not this time.
Tag turned the wheel sharply as she approached the turn, refusing to ease up on the gas. This was supposed to be her night. Her big moment. Her date with destiny. And now, even with Sam’s lucky comb in her possession, it was slipping away yet again, just as it had so many times before.
Maybe Gilber was right after all, she thought.
Maybe she really was still just a foolish little puppy.
“Come on, come on…”
Tag could push down on the pedal no further, driving at a breakneck speed towards Sam from behind. But no matter what, she just couldn’t close that gap.
“Tag, you should know that I…” Scooch’s voice said through the headset.
“Not now, Scooch!” Tag growled. She didn’t want anyone’s pity, especially Scooch’s. This race wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot. All she wanted was to win.
“I-I just… what I’m trying to say is, I l-lo…”
“I said not now!”
And then, something happened that made Tag’s heart stop. It all happened so fast. All at once, the lug nuts on Tag’s back-right tire shot out like bullets, and her tire rolled away into the side wall. Sparks flew from her car as the axel scraped against the hard pavement at top-speed, the sudden friction causing the vehicle to spin out uncontrollably. Tag let out a frightened yelp as her car slammed hard into the side-barrier, the force of the impact knocking it onto its side and sending it spinning through the air in an instant.
The crowd went silent in horror as Tag’s car flew into a death-spiral. Although it was only a few seconds, time had seemingly slowed down to a snail’s pace for Tag as the scenery spun all around her. She saw a blurry glimpse of her family, watching from the stands. She saw Scooch from the pit box, his hands over his mouth in sheer terror. And all of them were completely powerless to save her. With what little time her brain had to process what was happening, Tag was positive that she was not going to survive this. No helmet in the world would be strong enough to protect her when crashing upside-down into the pavement at nearly 200 miles per hour. She closed her eyes and held her breath, bracing herself for the end. Hoping it would be quick and painless. The only sound she heard was her own airless breaths of shock. Not even the roar of the other car engines could be processed anymore.
And then, everything went black. She heard nothing. Felt nothing. No fear, no pain, no emotion at all.
For what felt like both only a brief moment, and an eternity, Tag was… nobody.
But then, a deafening explosion shook her to her very core, and she felt the rush of wind again as the panicked screams of the crowd filled her ears. Tag felt a jolt as her car collided with something; but much to her surprise, the crowd’s cries unexpectedly erupted into cheers of joy. Her eyes were still clenched tightly shut, but she felt her sense of gravity correct itself as her racecar was set back down onto the road with a loud thud.
When Tag opened her eyes, she was surprised to see a taller yellow dog with brown hair and bright green eyes looking directly at her with an almost fierce intensity as he rested his paws firmly on her car. Whoever this dog was, his face was completely unknown to her.
“Are you okay?” the adult Labrador asked with concern as his face got slightly closer to hers.
Tag took a moment to process what had happened, struggling to find any words.
“Uh… uh-huh…” she nodded weakly, her body visibly shaking from the shock of her near-death experience. She glanced at the dog’s arms, which seemed to be crackling with a quickly-fading green electricity that matched his unique eyes. But surely her eyes were simply playing tricks on her, she thought.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” the yellow dog reached in and unbuckled her seatbelt, picking her up and lifting her out of the car as Scooch, the paramedics and Tag’s family rushed to the scene.
Tag said nothing as she instinctively clung to him, only staring into the yellow Lab’s eyes as he held her in his arms. How did she survive her crash? How did this stranger end up in the middle of the track just in time? Did he actually catch her entire car mid-air? He’d have to be some kind of actual superhero to do that! There was no way he could’ve… right?
Tag’s mind was overloaded with unanswered questions as the stranger handed her to the group of paramedics, who removed her helmet and were frantically checking her all over to make sure she hadn’t broken anything.
Sam Whippet, meanwhile, had already passed the final finish line and won the race without much contest; but due to the scene unfolding on the track, hardly anyone else seemed to notice or care. He collected his trophy with little fanfare, joining the crowd that had gathered around Tag to see if she was alright.
“Tag! Tag!” Scooch shouted as he rushed to her side, hugging her tightly. “I almost lost you!”
“My sweet girl!” Maw was crying hysterically as she grabbed Tag’s face, kissing her cheeks. “Don’t ever scare us like that again!”
Tag was in a stunned silence as she was smothered by her traumatized family, her body still trembling from the shock. Her eyes, however, remained fixated on the yellow dog who had saved her. In return, she saw his green eyes looking back at her one more time as he quietly slipped through the crowd before disappearing just as quickly as he’d came.
“We were so worried about you! To think what could’ve happened…” Paw squeezed Tag, refusing to let her go as tears swelled up behind his goggles. “Please, no more racing, Tag… no more… I can’t take it…”
Tag was stunned, almost moreso by her father's words than by her nearly fatal accident. No more racing? But she had loved racing more than life itself, ever since she could remember. She had considered quitting once before, but did go through with it. But now, given what had almost happened, what she nearly put her family through… maybe it was best to throw in the towel, after all. If she could never beat Sam, never go down in history books, never have her name be remembered… then what was the point?
Her eyes never moved, still staring ahead where that mysterious new dog had been. She considered that, although tonight was far from the best night of her life that she was hoping for, it could have gone much, much worse. Tag thought about Sam’s lucky golden comb. The dog who saved her.
‘This is the day something great is going to happen,’ she remembered in her own words. ‘Today, I’ll face my destiny head-on!’
Tag felt a ticklish patter in her heart. She knew there must’ve been a good reason for this feeling in her gut all day that today was going to be life-changing. That today, great things would be happening to her. That today, she would face her destiny. And even though she didn’t win the trophy…
Maybe Tag was right, after all.
![[Fanfic] Love is Driven - Ch. 2 - Right Signals](https://va.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5210/5210428_DeltaFlame_ch2-title_lid_noncustom.jpg "[Fanfic] Love is Driven - Ch. 2 - Right Signals")
