Chapter 2 Velastra City.

  The streets of Velastra City were quiet that morning, washed in a pale blue light. The air was cool and still, except for the steady rhythm of footsteps echoing against the sidewalk.

  A girl jogged through the empty streets, headphones in, lost in her thoughts.

  A new city means a new start, she told herself, taking a turn past a row of cracked apartment buildings. This is where my story begins.

  By the time she reached her apartment complex, a blocky gray structure just outside the heart of the city, she slowed to a walk, wiping sweat from her brow. She waved at an older man sitting near the entrance.

  "Good morning," she said cheerfully.

  He smiled. "Just finished a run?"

  "Yeah," she said still catching her breath. "It's a beautiful city. I'm sure I'm going to like it here."

  "That's wonderful," the man said, tapping his cane slightly on the ground. "But be careful."

  "Why?" she asked, curious.

  He turned his gaze toward the far end of the street. "Things north of here can get... different. See the skyline there? That's what people call the center of the protected side."

  "Protected side?" she repeated.

  He nodded. "Where we are now is right on the line. Still considered protected, but only barely." He pointed down a narrow road splitting away into shadows. "You follow that path, you'll hit what they call the rebel side."

  Mira tilted her head. "That's what you were warning me about?"

  The man gave a faint, knowing smile. "Maybe. But this city's got more than one kind of danger. And it doesn't always stay where it's supposed to."

  Before she could ask what he meant, he pushed himself up with his cane. "I've got to go. Hope you enjoy your time here." He paused, leaning over his shoulder, "What's you're name if you don't mind me asking?"

  "It's Mira," she said. "And you are?"

  "Just call me Paul." he nodded once. "I hope we can talk again soon, Mira."

  She watched him walk away until he vanished around the corner. More than one kind of danger... she repeated to herself. What's that supposed to mean?

  Then she shook her head. "Whatever it is, it's not my problem. I can't let my stupid curiosity get the best of me again, that's the only reason why I'm here."

  She climbed the stairs to her small apartment. Inside, boxes were stacked against the walls, clothes scattered across the floor.

  "This is gonna take forever," she groaned. "I hate moving."

  A knock on the door interrupted her.

  She opened it to see a middle-aged man in a collared shirt. "Welcome to the complex," he said. "I'm the landlord, names Henry, just checking in."

  "Oh, hi!, I'm Mira" She shook his hand. "I'm doing okay, but my bathroom flush isn't working."

  "Ah, I can send someone to fix that," he said, jotting a note. "But before that, there are a few ground rules."

  "Uh... okay?" she said, confused.

  "You probably already know we're right at the edge between the protected side and the rebel side," he continued. "there are a few groups out there, kids, mostly, riding around on motorcycles. They rule the streets at night. If you hear them, ignore it. Don't look, don't talk to them, don't go outside. Got it?"

  "Sure..." she said slowly.

  "Good. Have a nice evening." He smiles stiffly and walked away.

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  Mira frowned. Why did he have to go into so much detail about a few kids on bikes? They can't be that dangerous.

  She sighed. "Whatever. Time to clean."

  Still, the thought lingered in her head as she started unpacking again.

  By the time she finished, it was dark out. Sweat clung to her skin as she wiped her forehead and poured a glass of water.

  That’s when she heard it — a deep rumble, followed by the sharp roar of engines tearing through the street below.

  She rushed to the window.

  Five motorcycles sped past in a blur, their tail lights streaking through the darkness. One rider leaned low into the turn, sparks flying as metal scraped pavement.

  “What kinda bikes are those?” she whispered. Her reflection glowed faintly in the glass.

  She caught herself staring too long and pulled away. “No — stop being curious. The landlord was right. It’s loud, sure, but it’s none of my business.”

  Yet, her curiosity wouldn’t stop whispering.

  Sitting at her desk, she opened her laptop. Velastra City news, she typed.

  Dozens of headlines popped up — most of them about the same thing: street chases, night pursuits, police warnings.

  “Let’s see here,” she murmured, scrolling. “How tough are you kids, huh?”

  Her eyes landed on a headline: “Night Rider: The Phantom of Velastra.”

  “Night Rider?” she said aloud. “Is that, like, their leader or something?”

  She clicked the article — only to find a blurry image of a black figure on a motorcycle and a short paragraph that said: Identity unknown. No confirmed sightings.

  Mira laughed. “Wow, real helpful. So mysterious.” She leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m guessing those kids are— oh nooo,” she said, burying her face in her hands. “I’m letting my curiosity take over again. Ugh I need to stop. I'm going to bed.”

  Still muttering to herself, she turned off the light.

  Morning sunlight filtered into the room. Mira sat at her small kitchen table, messy hair, a spoon halfway to her mouth. “This cereal tastes like cardboard,” she mumbled.

  After finishing, she grabbed her hoodie and walked down to the mailboxes in the lobby.

  “Please, please, please be here,” she whispered, opening her box. A letter sat inside.

  Her heart jumped. She tore it open and scanned the first line — then gasped. “Yes! I got the job!”

  She started jumping up and down, clutching the paper. “I actually got it! Finally!”

  “Uh… are you okay?”

  Mira froze mid-jump. Behind her stood a boy about her age messy brown hair, a relaxed smirk.

  “Oh, uh— sorry about that,” she said, cheeks burning. “I just got accepted for a job.”

  “Oh yeah? Congrats,” he said, smiling. “Where at?”

  “It’s called Milo’s,” she said proudly.

  He blinked. “No way. I work there part-time. Help Milo out when I’m not at the station.”

  “The station?”

  “Yeah, the police station. The names Kai.” He extended a hand.

  Mira shook it. “Mira. It’s good to meet you.”

  “Well, Mira, I’ll see you at work then.” He grinned, reaching for his mailbox. “And, uh, next time, try not to scare the neighbors with your victory dance.”

  She laughed awkwardly. “No promises.”

  As she walked back upstairs, she thought, I’m talking to a lot of people lately… this is new.

  Across town, in a completely different world, the hum of the city faded into a rougher rhythm.

  The rebel side of Velastra was alive in its own way, raw, loud, full of motion. Cracked streets, glowing graffiti, open garages spilling light onto the road.

  Inside one of them, a mechanic wiped grease off his hands. His hair was buzzed short, a slit in his eyebrow, his shirt smudged with oil.

  “Hey, Dax!” a voice shouted.

  Dax didn’t look up. “What do you want? I’m working here.”

  “Sorry, but we just got news, the cops are changing their routes. We got the new scout papers too.”

  “Good stuff,” Dax said, tightening a bolt. “Leave it on the table.”

  The kid hesitated. “So, uh… Dax-”

  “What?”

  “It’s Night Rider.”

  Dax froze, the wrench slipping slightly. He turned his head slowly. “What about him?”

  “He told me to tell you to meet him up at the hill.”

  Dax frowned. “Give me the paper.”

  “The paper?”

  “Are you deaf? If this ain’t a trap, he’d have given you a paper with his signal.”

  “Oh, right.” The kid pulled a folded note from his pocket. Dax snatched it and scanned the markings.

  “…It’s real.” He sighed. “Damn. Was hoping it wasn’t.”

  “Why?” the kid asked. “You don’t like him or something? I thought you two were close.”

  Dax shot him a glare. “Did I say I didn’t?”

  The kid shook his head.

  “Then don’t assume.”

  A few minutes later, the sound of Dax’s motorcycle echoed through the empty road. He rode up the winding hill overlooking the city until he spotted a lone figure in black.

  Helmet. Hoodie. Stillness.

  Night Rider.

  Dax parked beside him, the engines falling silent.

  “Nice view,” Night Rider said quietly.

  “Got that right,” Dax replied.

  “The breeze is good tonight too. Almost feels like the city forgets itself up here.”

  “Agreed. So, what’d you call me for?”

  Night Rider turned slightly. “Just a reminder about our plan, to bring this city back.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Good. But that’s not the only reason.”

  Dax folded his arms. “Spill it.”

  “I’ve got a feeling,” Night Rider said, eyes locked on the skyline. “The tide’s about to change. And this time… it’s going to turn in our favor.”

  Dax tilted his head. “And what makes you so sure?”

  “Just a hunch,” Night Rider said. “You know I’m rarely wrong.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Dax smirked. “Who’s the new kid? The one you sent to me.”

  “Oh, him? That’s Niko. I’m testing him out. He’s good at keeping quiet, good enough to tail you last night.”

  Dax blinked. “Tail me?”

  Night Rider held up his phone, showing a grainy photo of Dax in the shop.

  Dax laughed. “Guess the kid’s got talent after all.”

  “Who knows. We’ll see what happens.”

  The two stood there for a while, two silhouettes staring over Velastra’s glowing skyline, the city shimmering below like a lie wrapped in neon.