Midnight Driver: Five Stars or Die
Los Angeles, the City of Angels... fallen.
Beneath the glow of Hollywood lights and the eternal gridlock of the I-405, there is a world that moves in silence. Raymond Vance is not an ordinary rideshare driver. He is a Ghost Driver, available only through the RideShare app’s Dark Mode between 12:00 a.m. and 4:00 a.m.
The rules are simple and absolute:
Don’t ask.
Don’t look back.
Change of plan equals ten times the fare.
That night should have been easy. Pick up a passenger in Downtown LA, drop them off in Santa Monica. Instead, the passenger who gets in is Leo, a ten-year-old boy with autism, clutching a military-grade encrypted tablet.
Seconds later, an armored SUV owned by a Private Military Contractor slams into the side of Raymond’s car. Leo is not just a child. He is the Master Key sought by Mexican cartels and corrupt California senators.
Dragged into a lethal conspiracy, Raymond is forced to push his Dodge Charger through the streets of California. There is no government support, no law. Only asphalt, gasoline, and bullets.
Tonight, there is only one choice: a five-star rating, or die on the streets of LA.
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Chapter: Ch 10. Before The Strom The smell of a hospital is always the same, no matter what time you enter. A cold blend of seventy percent alcohol and despair, masked by synthetic lemon air freshener. To Ray, the scent is more suffocating than diesel exhaust trapped in a traffic-clogged tunnel. 11:45 p.m. Ray walks across the lobby of St. Jude Medical Center. His steps feel heavy. His leather shoes now bear thin scuffs on their toes, remnants of brutal pedal work during the heart delivery in Burbank earlier tonight. Behind the VIP reception desk, Mrs. Amber is still there. She is a corporate vampire who seems never to sleep. Ray drops a thick brown envelope onto the polished mahogany counter. It looks worn, slightly greasy, and smells of leftover adrenaline. Amber glances at the envelope, then peers at Ray over her glasses. “You came back quickly, Mr. Rayner. People with your profile usually need more time to gather liquidity.” “Count it,” Ray says flatly. Amber opens the envelope with tw
Last Updated: 2026-01-22
Chapter: Ch 09. Cockpit Silence Night in Los Angeles is never truly silent. Even in the most secluded spots, there is always the hum of high-voltage electricity, the hiss of distant tires, or sirens wailing like wounded ghosts. Yet inside the cabin of the Dodge Charger parked on the dark shoulder of Mulholland Drive, the outside world feels millions of light-years away. Ray shuts off the engine. The sudden silence feels heavy, pressing against his eardrums. He does not move right away. He sits still, letting his back settle into the contours of the Recaro racing seat, hard but gripping his body with military precision. This is not just a car. It is an extension of himself, a steel womb shielding him from a world eager to swallow him whole. Ray’s hand slowly traces the steering wheel. The Alcantara leather feels rough and cold beneath his fingertips, absorbing the sweat and residual tension from the confrontation with Hartman. He presses a small button on the dashboard. Click. The cabin lights
Last Updated: 2026-01-22
Chapter: Ch 08. Breach of Contract The crystal chandeliers in the lobby of the Beverly Wilshire Hotel cast a warm golden glow, a sharp contrast to the night air outside that had begun to bite. Along the valet lane, Rolls Royces, Bentleys, and Ferraris stood in neat rows, displayed like the expensive toys of Hollywood gods. At the very end of the line, Ray’s matte black Dodge Charger sat motionless, a wolf among pampered poodles. No valet dared approach it. The car radiated a sense of danger that made wealthy people instinctively uneasy. Ray tapped his index finger against the steering wheel, matching the rhythm of the digital clock on the dashboard. 9:00 p.m. The hotel’s glass doors spun open. A man stumbled out. He wore a black tuxedo with the tie loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone, his face flushed from a mix of expensive alcohol and pure panic. This was his client, City Councilman Marcus Hartman. The same man whose face smiled confidently from campaign billboards under the slogan Law and Order
Last Updated: 2026-01-22
Chapter: Ch 07. Package Delivery Ray drove The Phantom along Sepulveda Boulevard, blending into the slow, working-class traffic that moved like blood thickened by clogged arteries. He was not carrying a passenger. The back seat was empty, yet the weight on his shoulders felt just as heavy. The sedative he had taken at the diner was wearing off, replaced by sharp alertness and a faint, restless edge. 10:15 a.m. The dedicated phone in the dashboard drawer buzzed. Not the refined chime reserved for VIP passengers, but a short, abrasive buzzer. Twice. Ray glanced at the screen. The Car Gow interface shifted to a cold blue. COURIER MODE: ACTIVATED. CARGO TYPE: BIOLOGICAL / TIME-SENSITIVE (CODE BLUE). PICKUP POINT: Private Ambulance 44, Rear Parking Lot, Dodger Stadium. DROP-OFF POINT: Noah’s Ark Veterinary Clinic, Burbank. TIME LIMIT: 18 Minutes. PAYMENT: $8,000. Eight thousand dollars for eighteen minutes of work. Ray ran the numbers in his head. That was an obscene rate for co
Last Updated: 2026-01-22
Chapter: Ch 06. Shadows The morning sun in Los Angeles was never truly clean. Its light was always filtered through a layer of smog, turning blue skies into a dull, metallic gray. For most people, it marked the start of routine, gridlock on the I-405, overpriced lattes, and boring meetings. For Ray, it was the hour when the monsters of the night crawled back under their beds, giving him a brief chance to breathe. Ray turned his Dodge Charger into the parking lot of Mickey’s Diner, a 24-hour restaurant on the outskirts of Culver City whose architecture was frozen in the 1950s. A red neon coffee cup flickered on the roof, its E burned out, leaving the sign to read DIN R. He chose the farthest corner spot. The position gave him a strategic 180-degree view of the entire lot and the diner entrance. Ray shut off the engine. He sat still for ten seconds, letting the V8’s vibrations slowly drain from his body. He studied his reflection in the rearview mirror, now slightly thicker thanks to the ballistic
Last Updated: 2026-01-22
Chapter: Ch 05. Old Man Joe's Workshop Dawn had not fully broken, but the eastern sky was already bruised with a dirty purple-red hue. Ray left the city’s noise behind, pointing the nose of his Dodge Charger toward the edge of the Mojave Desert, where civilization thinned out and gave way to forgotten industrial carcasses. His destination was The Boneyard. On both sides of the cracked asphalt road, thousands of wrecked cars and decommissioned military trucks stood in rows like headstones in a massive graveyard. Ray turned onto a gravel dirt road leading to an old World War II era aircraft hangar. A neon sign with half its letters dead flickered weakly: J E’S A TO RE P AIR. When the car stopped in front of the iron gate, Ray did not signal right away. He went still. His hands, still gripping the steering wheel, suddenly shook hard, a tremor he could not control. He did not curse his body. He simply waited for the shaking to pass, the same way he once waited for gunfire to stop. Ray reached into his pocke
Last Updated: 2026-01-22
