The lights in the apartment turned off.
Brian stepped out of the old building that had once been his home.
The sun cast its early glow across the street, bouncing off the windshield of his new red diesel—nothing fancy, just a four-wheeler that ran fine enough.
He checked the trunk, gave the bumper a slap, then climbed inside and turned the key.
“Arizona, woo!
Let’s go, baby!” Click-click.
The engine coughed but refused to start.
“The hell?
I just charged.” Brian twisted the key harder, gritting his teeth.
He tried again, and again.
“Come on, come on, you piece of junk!
Ain’t no ghosts around here.” He gave the key one last angry twist—until the engine finally roared to life.
“Ha!
Hell yeah!
That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” He slammed his hand against the steering wheel with a wild grin.
“Next stop, Phoenix.”
The four wheels rolled out onto the open road.
Four hundred miles later, around two in the morning, his gas gauge was dropping low.
He pulled into a lonely gas station glowing faintly beneath a buzzing sign.
He stepped out, stretching his back, and started pumping gas himself.
The quiet was almost eerie, the kind that made you hum just to fill the silence.
Then, in the distance—an engine’s scream.
Then another.
And more.
The sound grew louder, closer.
Bright, flashing lights streaked down the freeway like a storm of neon.
A swarm of motorbikes tore past the gas station—chrome, noise, and chaos, the kind of sight that made Brian’s pulse tick up a notch.
The riders were covered in glowing tattoos, their bikes roaring under the desert moon.
Three pickup trucks followed close behind, like some kind of convoy from hell.
“Wow!
haven’t seen that since high school,” Brian muttered, watching them riding.
The gang blasted by in a frenzy of laughter and shouts.
Ha ha ha!” one voice howled through the night.
“Hit the nos, you sissies!
Go, go, fucking gooo!” another yelled, waving a green smoke flare from the back of a truck.
As they passed, one of the riders flipped Brian the bird and yanked his pants down halfway, flashing a glowing red skull tattooed right on his buttock.
“Kiss my ass, I’m the Dominata1, King of 66, bitch!
Remember that, you fucking pussy!
Gahahaha~~” The guy laughed madmaxingly.
Brian let out a low voice.
“Well damn… mouthy bunch.” He smirked and leaned against the car.
“So that’s the infamous guy everyone’s talkin’ about online.” He finished filling up, capped the tank, and got back into the driver’s seat.
The desert air was cool, the silence returning as the neon mob faded into the distance.
He drove a few more miles before pulling over to catch a few hours of sleep in the car.
By sunrise, he was back on the road again.
Phoenix finally came into view—its skyline a strange mix of the old and the futuristic.
He passed the big military airfield, where drones hummed overhead and traffic lights towered fifty feet high to guide the flying cars drifting through the hazy morning sky.
“Hello, Phoenixa~” Brian greeted the city.
This character will play a big role in Volume 3 as the secondary villain.