2025-09-30 18:53:09
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Payback
Clean formation.Dane smirked.So they thought they were untouchable.He twisted the throttle.The bike howled as he cut between traffic, inches from bumpers, mirrors flashing past his knees. Horns screamed behind him. Tires skidded as cars swerved to avoid him.John’s message flashed:TARGET VEHICLE CONFIRMED.BLACK ARMORED SUV.ESCORTED BY TWO SEDANS.ROUTE LOCKED.A red line traced across the city map.They were heading for the industrial zone.Bad choice.Dane took a hard turn into a side street, sparks flying as his foot scraped asphalt. He blasted through an abandoned warehouse district, weaving between rusted trucks and stacked containers.Ahead — headlights.Four vehicles.Moving fast.Perfect.He killed his lights.The bike became a shadow.The convoy thundered past the junction.Dane waited.Three seconds.Then he launched.The engine screamed as he shot onto the road behind them.Wind tore at his jacket. The armored SUV loomed ahead like a moving fortress. Two sedans flanke
The Opening Shot
The man on the ground never had a chance. A single shot, and he went limp, lifeless before he even hit the concrete. The other six men reacted instantly, guns spitting fire. But he was faster. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the fallen body and used it as a shield. Bullets slammed into the corpse, splintering concrete, sparks flying, while he returned fire with deadly precision. He moved like a storm—sliding, ducking, firing. Every pull of the trigger was calculated. Gula didn’t even see it coming. A shot to the shoulder, another tearing through each leg, and Gula screamed, collapsing onto the asphalt, writhing in agony. The remaining shooters barely had time to react before he shifted his aim to them. One, two, three—down before they could even blink. John stumbled, clutching his shoulder, but alive. Without hesitation, he sprinted to his bike, swung onto the seat, and roared the engine to life. Tires screamed across the concrete as he accelerated, weaving through the chaos. John
Instant onto
Gula’s smile widened.“Well, if it isn’t one of the most famous men walking the streets right now,” he said mockingly. “Dane. The name that’s been floating through Mafia circles lately.”Dane didn’t blink. His arm stayed locked, gun steady, muzzle fixed on Gula’s forehead.“Well, if it isn’t Gula,” he replied. “One of the men who got arrested during the last raid.”Recognition flickered in Gula’s eyes.“I remember you,” Dane continued. “You were Leo’s man. I saw your face when our crews clashed. I even saw you on TV once—cuffed, dragged away.” His voice hardened. “Funny thing is, you’re standing here now.”Gula chuckled. “I was released.”“So I heard.”“For someone with the right connections,” Gula said calmly, “getting out isn’t difficult.”“Oh, really?” Dane said.Gula nodded. “Really. And now, I think you should lower your weapon.”None of the men moved, but their fingers tightened on their triggers.“I’m going to shoot you,” Gula said, his tone flat, almost bored.Dane exhaled slo
Setback
By the time Dane reached the site again, the place was already dead.He slowed instinctively, engine rolling down to a low growl as the landing strip came into view. Then he saw them.Bodies.At least fifteen.The men who had guarded the area lay scattered across the cracked tarmac and between the containers, twisted at unnatural angles. Blood soaked into the dust, dark and sticky. Some had fallen where they stood. Others had tried to run.Too late.Dane cut the engine and swung off the bike in one smooth motion. His Glock was in his hand before his boots hit the ground. He moved slowly now, shoulders tight, every sense stretched thin. The wind carried the coppery smell of blood and gunpowder.“This is bad,” he whispered.Very bad.He edged forward, scanning left, then right, checking shadows, gaps between containers, the doorway of the small shack where the CCTV equipment had been. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.Movement.Figures stepped out from the small building near the bac
The Trail
They watched the footage in silence.The image on the screen was grainy, distorted by distance and heat shimmer. A figure moved across the frame, hood pulled low, face hidden in shadow. Even when John froze the image and zoomed in, there was nothing—no features, no clear angles. Just a silhouette drifting through static.“No face,” John muttered. “Whoever it was knew exactly where the cameras were.”Dane leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “Yeah. He made sure of that.”The technician shifted uneasily behind them. “We’ve sent the clip to a few specialists,” he said. “They’ll try to clean it up, but I’m not promising anything. For now, this is all we have.”John exhaled through his nose. “Send the footage to our secure line. I’ll have someone analyze it deeper.”The man nodded quickly. “You’re free to go.”Dane straightened, but his gaze didn’t leave the screen. “Leave the footage for now,” he said quietly. “There’s something else we need to deal with first.”John turned to him. “The Coin Fl
Footage
They rode hard until the city thinned out and concrete gave way to a broad, empty expanse — a forgotten landing strip on the outskirts where weeds pushed through cracked tarmac and the wind had space to carry the smell of oil and old smoke. John had started the morning on his own bike but had hopped onto Dane’s when traffic choked a side street; now the two of them killed their engines and let the silence settle around the place like dust.It was the sort of site that smelled of other people’s secrets: stale cigarettes, spilled beer, a trace of gasoline. A handful of rusting shipping containers leaned like sentries against the horizon. Near one cluster of crates, a small group lounged around a barrel, smoking and passing a bottle. Their easy posture gave nothing away at first glance, but John slowed the bike and scanned faces with the flat attention of a man who’d spent years reading danger like weather.“Stay close,” John said under his breath. He pushed his helmet back and stretched
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