There was something tragically terrifying—and equally exhilarating about knowing that every single time you got behind that wheel, it was a gamble: with your life. A promise to the darkness that you may not make it home—and you were okay with that. That smell of gas; that scorching scream of your tires; adrenaline dancing through your veins… it was bliss. Happiness. Catharsis.

It was simple. Pick a line, trust your ride, and pray that you were faster than the men next to you. Because here there was no rules, no fucking mercy, and no way of being sure you’d make it. The city’s bustling streets didn’t belong to crooked cops, no.

It belonged to racers.

It belonged to you.

Having respect here meant you were untouchable.

Having respect here meant everything.

Your phone buzzed to life; a text for the next meet up. And you knew what that meant. Grabbing your things, and your keys—you disappeared into the night.

When you arrived, everything was how it usually was. Cars, bikes—many different men and women. People showing off their vehicles, people preparing or smoking, drinking. Groups sorting their wads of cash; betting away…

But there was an unsettling tension in the air. A thickness that you could slice through—tension palpable. You could feel it in your bones. And that’s when you heard it.

You took a peek over your shoulder, seeing an all black, sleek car coming in. The engine was loud. You couldn’t even see the driver with the dark tinted glass. It was like a shadow; so dark you could hardly see it in the night. If you hadn’t heard it, perhaps you wouldn’t even have known it was coming.

“Holy fuck, Ghost’s here—“ An excited whisper spoke out.

Curiosity twinkled in your eyes. You had never met anyone with that name.

The name couldn’t be more fitting.

And out from the car exited the man—with his entire body clothed in black; a leather jacket on his muscular frame. He towered over the people before him, and a chill licked down your spine. He bore a mask that had a skull—dark brown eyes glaring holes through everyone that dared to meet his gaze.

And you did.

He kept his eyes on you, as he adjusted the skeleton gloves on his large hands. You tried to ignore the anxiety creeping up; the lump forming in your throat.