Mr Reaper: Coiled Fates

The year is 2089 and the world has blossomed with technology and stability. Wealth is spread across the globe and control over the environment is now a reality.

But the problems of the old world still fester at places forgotten by the machine of change, due to the insignificance of their existence.

Settled in between the choice of remaining in the filth or entering the world of opportunities, Reil, a young man in his early 20s, is paving a way out.

It will just take great skill and courage to persevere against the odds, yet in his journey loneliness is not a factor.

Nonetheless, with great opportunities come great threats, since those who are successful are like a magnet to the ill intent of greed.

Copyright © 2021 by Markovas
All rights reserved. Reproduction or distribution of this book and its visual assets, in any kind of electronic or physical way, is prohibited without the permission of the publisher.


17 chapters, 205 pages

Chapter 1: Larrylon
Chapter 2: Clash
Chapter 3: Freeshipping

Chapter 4: Allurements
Chapter 5: Arrival

Chapter 6: Straits
Chapter 7: Director Zoey

The rest of the chapters are available at –

Chapter 1

Surface of azure, surface uneven and rather alive, it’d bobble up and down in a rhythm of swish, undisturbed and influential until it’d meet the barrier of moss and riddles of corals-glued. Every crash of wave would rumble like soothing wind of manifest that’d take its leave and unexpectedly would come back again, again and again.

The distance was clear and the unseen could be seen in the great gap, where the lively liquid glistened teary in gratefulness to the still-warm autumn smile that was bathing the land in life. There was also the part of green and gray in that same far away sight that slept and stretched by the playful blue, the province of Plovdio with the oceanic railway transportation passage standing tall in the middle, as it made connection between civilizations. An exemplary feat of engineering and architecture the people of this great country had given to existence.

The sky ached healthily in cobalt and the air carried the rich scent of salt and dampness with the occasional sounds of pretentious seagulls noisying about. Ships of different sizes and uses bounced gently over the reflecting deepness, while some were partially underneath it with rusty frames and long-forgotten names, yet not entirely forsaken like those on the bottom-unclear where the mucky earth was swallowing them slow and sure.

Lots of waste had gathered round like hungry crowds of starvation around the mossy walls of concrete-tall of the harbor, where long ropes dangled in thick brown and shades of wear that time had given in its fair influential share.

There, on the edge of the tall concrete of discolor, sat a lanky man in a white button-up shirt, while his black coat, in harmony with his trousers, hung on his sides so as to get more heat to easily flee his lively body. His hands, rugged in gentleness, held half a recently baked bread, from which he’d peel small pieces that’d leave crumbs to separate in unwillingness to freedom.

He’d throw the chunks on the wooden quay of moldiness of the harbor below, where sailors were making it crunch and squeak, while seagulls squawked of mass, battled in rattle with each other for the small amounts of tastiness-fallen, at the expense of those around in bustle-busy.

Yet, that was the exact reason why Reil was enjoying himself so much as down there were people who had done him wrong, and thorning them right now, even if rather insignificant, was aiding in the bubbling of his already vibrant mood. Especially as he could see the indignation on the old sailor’s face, with moldy wears, who was glaring at him through misty blue battered by the flow of time.

The tarpaulin the old man was hiding underneath, and the slippery planks, gave way to Reil’s imagination of the old man sliding and finally breaking his neck as the years lived surely were too much. Why did he have to suffer more? Yet… if the ancient sailor would escape him easily, who would Reil annoy then? This coral-infested-looking creature gave way to the best of reactions!

Reil just couldn’t miss the opportunity to throw more oil into the fire, thus his tidy mouth opened slightly into his weasel grin, and with devilish flick, he waved at the old sack of expired meat in between another throw of bread that was bigger than all the previous. The old sailor muttered a definite curse and broke his waned gaze of failure that fed Reil a sleazy load of pride of his achievement.

There was this saying about respecting your elders… but he didn’t know his elders and all the rest were just fussy-prejudiced assholes. Of course not all of them, there were gentle and friendly ones, but the bad overpowered the good in numbers. How could he respect someone who didn’t respect him? Pft, they could go choke on a fish!

Larrylon. Even in its filthy state and abundance of unfriendly individuals of poverty, it somehow felt right, it felt somehow attractive in a rather twisted way. It felt home.

The high crime rates, lack of adequate jobs, not enough education or healthy environments, all of that was easily brushed off as normal and usual for this place at the edge of the giant metropolis of Apenion. Here you could do whatever you wanted. Police rarely would come as people would just keep to themselves, because trouble sought only those who sought it in turn. People who snitched were viewed inferior than scum.

Still, such didn’t mean surprises never caught up to him as he’d hear stories about cities underneath the ground, disfigured fiends that were once people, pits with ancient beings and other far-fetched stories of biblical fiction. Of course most were just urban legends that fueled the fires of fear and wonder, the belief in the supernatural and extraordinary.

Yet not all seemed to be myth, as he had personally met people who’d talk about such a place. A place of dark, a place of cold, a place of unimaginable danger. Rarely would any of them deviate in changes of descriptions that’d be painted in the overall end, because they’d speak poorly and would lack structure of grammar, which in turn lessened the doubt even more within his mind…

It seemed the criminals weren’t those committing the atrocities here and around, it were those who kept them behind locked doors and allowed them to continue to repeat, repeat and repeat. Reil wasn’t a hypocrite by thinking as such.

He knew he was one of those men who’d rather stay in the dirt than lose his life just because he’d think he could make a difference to the already established world order that had taken decades of formations, tons of blood, hundreds of thousands of graves, unfathomable strings of grief and misery…

No, he liked the happiness he had, and if preserving it meant being the scum society thought he was, he was going to fight for it tooth and nail.

A big piece of him wanted to believe about the parts of such hidden cities existing, because they sounded so big and different which in turn gave push to curiosity that his young self still harbored in energies-unmeasured. The shininess of Apenion, its diversity and colors held wonder in his eyes for some time, but where he had lived had imprinted itself onto his brain in a way to appreciate and feel attraction towards the ruins and chaotic design. The old wooden houses, the unplastered brick walls and graveled off-roads, the wild parks and fields… it all equaled to some sort of freedom… dangerous… limitless… freedom

That was why this unique place under the world had him interested so much, it gave the impression to carry so much more possibilities than this area could even give way to his fantasies, ways for a better life and an expunge from where he was. Seeing groups and organizations illicit was what thrust him to want and create something alike, to have somewhat a family that would accept him for who he was… Today was the step towards that future that he believed to be inevitable and calcified to invulnerability.

But the big difference of his dream and path, the major change that was to be made was that the ways of illegality were going to be a nag of the past. There was no need to muddle into the dangerous deposits where greed ruled and betrayal was as occasional as the leakage of sewage in Larrylon. It was so simple, as he had realized legal ways to do what they were doing, but at such an angle that the law deemed it honorable, even if that was laughable and rather disrespectful to the word itself.

All it’d take was knowledge about what was allowed, all he needed was to know what could be exploited and brought forth in use of lackful contrition that would fade away slowly in the memory of yesterday, a decaying feeling of once upon a time, a point in time of warning that’d whisper advice for mistakes to not be repeated. All it was going to take was a step forward, a step into the light and the progressive.

Today was the day…

His eyes narrowed into the depths of his memory as he wondered if something was wrong and amiss, to which his peepers glanced at the sun, blazing above at a spot close to the time of mid-day, which got his unburdened hand to tap and to reach for his opened coat. Then his nose caught a certain scent, one of great familiarity but in mingle of something fruity, yet time ran out for contemplation as the fabric of something and the weight of another glued to his back, while pressure moved in front his throat and pulled back in par with his loss of breath.

He saw sleeves of dark-blue and skin of white, but the sheer panic that someone wanted to harm him got his fingers to dig into the arms of squeeze and his legs to thrash in the air with futility. The bread had fallen to his side and he wasn’t seeing any way out, but to push his weight forward and into the thirsty sea, even if that’d ruin the prospects of today. His life was deemed more important that an opportunity that could be harvested again in time.

But then it hit him to lessened efforts as he frowned. “Asshole…” The struggle around his throat subsided slowly but instead of the weight on his back of removing, legs surrounded him in the same presence as those sleeves. A breath hotter than the air around him blew next to his cheek.

“Caught ya on, R!” came the gentle voice of the other smiling man, which got Reil’s bubbling infuriation to step down in a rolling motion. The intimate hold he was caught in didn’t even bother him one bit, yet he felt some of his pride break in being seized so easily off guard.

“Didn’t even do it right…” Reil muttered under his breath with a snort coming from his side where his friend leaned onto his shoulder and moved closer to his collar, rumpling his silky coat a bit. The closeness was turning slightly uncomfortable but he knew fully what his friend was trying to do, and Reil wasn’t going to humor him with a reaction.

“It’s not like I wanted to… Just… a surprise?” the young man said hesitantly with traces of regret of what he had done. Reil smirked in response as he knew that Tristan’s heart was so big, he could never keep up a ruse for more than necessary, which was good for Reil. But at the same time, he wanted his friend to take charge of himself and be able to overcome anything. It didn’t matter that Reil’d be the one paying the price, because his friend moving on and getting stronger was a goal unvoiced, a goal Reil shared.

“Ugh, stop getting flustered, Tris,” he dusted off his hand with a flick into the air, and put it in front Tristan’s face. “You seem ready?” Reil asked, but as he moved, Tristan’s nose sneezed and got Reil to focus on his-clean shaven face, which resembled his own. Sure, they both looked a bit too young, but crispness was the first step to any successful leap.

“Yea… got what you asked me of,” one of Trsitan’s hands disengaged from Reil, pulling a black briefcase towards the edge and into Reil’s satisfaction, “You think… it’ll work out?” Tristan asked with wobbly angst, which got Reil’s attention to flick in surprise.

“Hey, you’re the one supposed to have the hope!” Reil blurted out with his present emotions, Tristan’s eyes widening as his mouth plummeted into Reil’s shoulder with a long exhale.

“I do… it’s… just nervous and all,” Tristan whispered with eyes aimed elsewhere. This was understandable, and there was always the chance of something going south. But such was unacceptable to occur, as Reil himself had organized this exchange.


Reassurance… that was what he could give his friend, reassurance and comfort, even if that played a bit outside his own gardens of convenience he had built around. Thus, Reil let him stay as he was, and even caressed the top of his hair. Just there Tristan disengaged and sat next to him, attention now aimed at the quay.

“Hey… why’s he glaring at us?” Tristan asked in a gesture down. It didn’t take Reil much to figure out whom it was being talked about, after all, that deep and hateful glare could be easily seen from kilometres away.

“Cuz he’s an old spiteful fart. Doubt he likes himself even. Don’t tell me he’s getting to you?” At the question asked, Tristan shuffled with distress in answer, yet Reil kept his mouth shut and just patiently observed the contradictions.

“Wh— I just… no… no he isn’t.” Reil bumped his fist into Tristan’s shoulder and smiled as to encourage confidence, to encourage strength against those malicious bastards who’d try and get to them.

Reil massaged the gap between his eyebrows and stood from the edge of discolored steel, encased on the rim of the wall. His hands cleaned the pieces of rust from around his pants where he had sat, and then pulled onto the lapels of his coat as to get it in place. With a motion that rolled him around the balls of his shoes, he took full scrutiny for his friend sat before him.

In front of him, fresh as freshness could get, stood a fully formal man in an dark-blue coat and trousers that were hugging his lean frame perfectly, an indigo tie nestled in between the cyan collar of his shirt.

Reil was always observant to details and was quick to eat all Tristan had to offer, especially the worn watch on his right wrist that had a frame of silver and oaken straps. He wasn’t going to beat around the bush in his mind, Tristan looked incredibly acute and even charming, as if he had grown in age by several years. He’d definitely fit for a man of class, and the only thing he lacked was confidence and resources. But who needed that when one could use their tongue to conjure such.

“Something wrong?” Tristan asked through a lowered head as if Reil’s staring was interpreted like dissatisfaction, to which Reil was quick to break off his trance of stupor to a chuckle of delight. Something definitely was wrong, as tightness squeezed in his lungs, surely due to the suffocating vapor of the sea behind him.

“You took my advice too far!” Tristan’s shoulders sagged, but Reil’s heart prickled to clarify. “Where’d you find this even?!” He closed the distance between them and grabbed both sides of his friend who got up.

“Aren’t new… resized them at som— I think I know why they weren’t expensive, but there’s no smell! B-but… if they’re ba— I can fi—”

“Hey, hey! Stop being a knucklehead,” Reil pulled on Tristan’s lapels, his mouth hanging in great confusion. “You’ve outdone yourself, outstanding job!” Reil cheered through a beaming smirk that got his friend’s head to finally move up in increasing confidence, trying to match the height of Reil’s.

“Oh, yes… thanks, I thought that… you didn’t like it and… y-yea…” Tristan exhaled sharply and tugged on his collar, which got Reil’s brow to furrow up and his smirk to evolve into a grin from the inexperience shown before him.

“Tho… you’ve done some parts wrong, Tris,” Tristan’s eyes of focus flung open in concern yet again, hands defensively grabbing one another in front of him.

“Making deals is about confidence. One of the ways of showing it is through looks,” his body moved closer, hands reaching for the buttons of Tristan’s coat. “I know you’re a perfectionist and think sharpness is the way… but…” two of the blue buttons sneaked through the fabric and the coat opened.

“By showing them lack of care for such perfection is confidence. And you can’t do that when you can’t breathe.” Reil pointed at Tristan’s belt, who flinched and was quick to undo the constriction. Knowing that time was moving, Reil fixed Tristan’s shirt and touched the material of his indigo necktie.

“Right…” Tristan murmured.

“Great! So… where was I…?” Reil’s finger tapped tie, his mind easily finding the lost needle in the hay. “By showing lack of care for a perfect look and mixing it with the strength of defiant words, you can achieve a menacing effect of power… even if it can be just an illusion.” Reil wanted to see approval and awe, but the shock was nothing like the characteristics of such. It brought uneasiness to rumble.

“But… I don’t want to be menacing!” Tristan blurted out in restiveness, but Reil shushed him as the top button of Tristan’s collar fell and exposed something greatly unexpected to Reil’s confused eyes.

A black leather collar with a golden frame and shiny ruby nestled in the middle, hidden behind that button-unfastened. Why was Tristan wearing exactly that? It wasn’t just a random jewelry or a cheap fashion token. It was a relic and a prized possession Reil knew well, especially to whom it used to belong.

“This is… your mother’s… why ar—” He couldn’t finish, his own voice overtaken by the panic before him. It appeared Tristan didn’t want to talk about why and who, and Reil was going to respect it.

“It brings luck! Thought we’ll need as much as we can get… I mean… I can take it off if yo—” But Reil’s brows flicked at the words and his eyes scanned Tristan from head to waist, his fingers going underneath the knot of the long tie, gently pulling it off the collar.

“Just want to try something…” Reil said under his breath with his pink tongue out, his concentration upon the matter. His hands removed a button, but when he was to undo another was when Tristan showed him his lack of approval. Reil frowned at the inconvenience, but after some intent staring, he sighed in defeat and backed up as to see the finality of his ingenious tinkering.

Tristan had slightly slumped himself, but Reil made a motion with his finger and the posture was fixed, the incredible sharpness was dulled and was now replaced with a new aura that gave the illusion of power and resourcefulness. This was translated by the recently forced lack of care and opened shirt, while the jewelry Reil thought was going to be out of place actually seemed to fit perfectly in the scene. It wasn’t feminizing Tristan but pulling forth more influence into the picture.

“So?” Tristan asked with hands up, which fell and flapped on his thighs. Reil contemplated for the right words but as no shore was evident for anchor, he gulped the hesitance and decided against his better judgment.

“If I were a hoe, it’s the first room we found… or alley.” The comment seemed to have done it, and a definite blush overtook Tristan whose hands scratched one another, his mouth trying to formulate a response of failure that didn’t lead to anything but silence.

Reil took that moment of marvel to realize a fault within himself as well. “Should follow my own advice as well, eh?” His hands reached for his own necktie that had already been loosened, and he hastily removed it, leaving more exposure to his clear chest.

“Ready?” Reil was just to reach for the black suitcase when he saw the remaining leftovers of bread on the rusty surface, the ideas in his mind trickling in smugness. After all, karma was such a nasty hoe, she’d bite and thrash and bash… it was all fair if something… happened.

“He’s still looking at us, R,” Tristan said in a voice that mirrored a whisper, which still carried evident hurt in the notes, getting Reil’s frustration to simmer in his veins. But the idea solidified as a seagull passed close with wings opened wide as if it were ready to levitate in the air. The opportunity made Reil’s chest to tickle in a gurgle of chuckle, as what was to happen just filled him full of incoming joy.

His hand grabbed the piece of bread, which was taking the road to rockiness, and with a peep at the crowd of noisy birds and angry sack of expired-sailor-meat, whose prejudice was even dirtier than the waters around, he pushed the bread at Tristan’s chest.

“You were good at basketball in school. A clean one? Inside the wooden boat with the battered tarp, where the old pile of fishy meat is.” Reil pointed at the old sailor who crossed his tattooed hands in the distance, Tristan narrowing his eyes in aching hesitation, until he frowned deeply and grabbed the piece of trouble from Reil.

“20 bucks I’ll hit the radio on the table.”

“Nah, but do hit that radio.” With a side snort and a raised hand behind his back, Tristan threw the remaining piece of nutrition high in the air, and unsurprisingly the hungry beasts below saw it as if it was a burning meteorite falling from the sky. Another insane ruckus blew as they jumped into the breeze and towards the destination that was the poor sailor’s boat. His expression spoke of crushing panic that was sealed when the golden piece of problems bumped into the noisy radio and fell into the boat that was seconds later filled with white, gray and yellow; sounds of brawls and yells and crashes.

Fuckin’ pissheads! I’ll stuff’o plank in’o asses y—” But his anger-filled voice was now mingled with the distance as Reil and Tristan had both trailed elsewhere in laughter away from the harbor and towards the city. But before they were to cross another road, Reil stopped abruptly with the suitcase in hands, blowing a whistle at his friend.

“Store the ties,” he said absentmindedly and clicked-open the black rectangle which gave view to a folder with documents and notes and pens that looked rather elegant. Tristan came close to him and Reil handed him the suitcase, his hands grabbing the ties from his coat’s pocket and rolling them appropriately so they wouldn’t wrinkle.

“The place is somewhere between the border of Upwork and the Amazonia.” Tristan’s mouth opened but closed in a snap, as if he knew he’d be answered even without asking. “I’ve got it all covered, don’t tie your mind in a knot.”

That was when Reil stored the second long piece of fashion in the case and closed it shut with a satisfying snap, taking it by the handle in his hand. Amusement got him to chuckle to where his friend was at.

“You’re standing in the gutter,” Reil said to Tristan’s immediate yelp, and Tristan jumped in place with pieces of dirt and filth flying around him, his leap landing him on the sidewalk, his brown shoes dragging on the stone slabs as to get any of the disgust off him.

“I’ll reek now….” But before he could befriend despondency, Reil got to his side and extended a hand around his neck with a pull as to get his attention, his silver tongue drowning in unvoiced sass.

“If you’ve had enough of marveling yourself for today, let’s get to business.” His hand pulled on the collar with a finger, which got Tristan to exhale sharply and to try and get his balance back from the leaned position he had been forced by Reil.

“I’m not boast—”

“Ahh, here you go at it again, tck-tck,” Reil mocked and received a low growl of warning from his trapped friend. Not wanting to receive a nasty reaction, Reil decided not to further the jokes as his supposed innocent friend wasn’t that of such to begin with. With that in mind, he pushed forward and they moved anew towards the end of the street, while the liveliness of the neighborhood was filled with drilling, shouting and overall industrialism. At least there weren’t any gunshots during the day, like at night…

“I was wondering of doing that thing around my…” The words got Reil’s attention stolen as he strangely looked at his beaming companion who was shyly indecisive in continuation. Where was he thinking of doing what… Why was there this heart-squeeze that whispered nothing but trouble?

“You know… down there?” Tristan pointed at his groin, Reil staring dumb, until Tristan’s smirk spoke-unspoken.

“Dude! Why’re you telling me this!?” He released the grip quickly and made safe space between the both of them. He wasn’t bashful about such subjects, but he really didn’t want to talk about such topics with Tristan, as he could sometimes lose himself and just go into such details which could make even Reil’s cheeks turn red.

“You’re overreacting… It can add tremendous effects, yea?”

“Why-are-you still talking about this, Tris! Argh!” Reil hissed as his eyes made haste to the other side of the sidewalk, where he tried to refocus himself on a group of people who were playing cards on a makeshift table from cardboard. One of the bigger men had a huge grin that was evident of his failure to keep a poker face and use that to his advantage.

“Ughm… wanted to hear your… thoughts?” Tristan mumbled in embarrassment, yet it was so simple to just catch the curious notes that begged Reil to just humor and talk with him about this. It was slowly chipping on his denial to do so with his eyes hesitantly moving in front and sideways to the expectancy-perverse.

“My thoughts are. We shouldn’t be talking about these things. You don’t even need that to swoon anyone, hah!” Reil threw his hands in the air with a fake smirk and nearly collided with a woman walking by, had it not been luck and agility.

“Any one,” Tristan added slowly but surely to Reil’s twinkle. Why had Tristan just said that specific segment? Curiosity, curiosity and more curiosity.

“Ehm, yea. Whatever oils your rod, dude.”

“You’re thinking about it now?” Tristan cheekily interjected from the silence of the noisy district which got Reil to nearly stop moving and lose pace, if it were not for his will forcing his legs to forge on and spit on defeat with defiance.

“I’m no— Oh you little shithe—” It appeared that Tristan had finally managed to get under his skin, a gradual but sure build-up that was carefully made in response to Reil’s teasing. But Reil wasn’t going to let him roam his lips free like that anymore and the only way to shut the crafty weasel in flashy attire was to slap where the nerves spread most. Reil moved close to him as they walked by a pile of trash on the sidewalk, and as he received a lolling tongue from Tristan, Reil slapped the back of his semi-exposed neck in a loud plack.

Tristan’s shoulders slumped to his skull and his hands flung to Reil’s, but Reil squeezed in a massageful motion. All ended in an instant as Tristan harshly turned around with curled lips.

“Cut it off!” he shouted, Reil’s hand pulling up with the inhabited grin of satisfaction and a wagging chuckle.

Tristan glowered and continued on. They had passed a lot of cars that were parked next to the sidewalk or on it entirely as there were no regulations being enforced by anyone from the government. None of the enforcers from the institutions wanted to be close to this place because they weren’t used to such difference in lifestyle, such dangerous difference if one didn’t know how to look behind their back.

“Yea… we’re here, tantrum-mouth,” Reil said as he stood next to a red coupe with worn-out paint parked next to the sidewalk, which he tapped with his finger. His head swung in a gesture as to show his friend to come back and hop in, while unlocking the door to the passenger’s side and skirting in front as to get in.

His eyes finally caught a great detail that was some meters away from the red vehicle. It was a jeep surely meant for a bigger person, a jeep which’s roof was entirely caved in with glass shattered all around in tiny speckles of glistens. It made Reil’s goosebumps to crawl all around his back, the signs of construction slabs splattered around the road to a sign of bad luck and increased probability of the same happening to his car.

“Isn’t this N—” Tristan tried to say but Reil quickly unlocked his side and got in from dread that something else might fall on them from negligence or mistake. What if a crane cracked because of cheap or unmaintained machinery and unreliable workhands? This small car would be leveled like a pancake.

A loud screech of metal came from above and Reil instantly turned the ignition. Why was his buddy giving him the look? “What?! You saw that jeep, quit staring at me.”

Reil scowled and shifted into gear, with liquid fuel entering the veins of the engine. A car passed by them in a flash, speeds way over the speed limit, which wasn’t something new or strange, while the side-view mirror showed Reil a big truck incoming with speeds-unknown. He wanted to get in front of it, but the words ‘Objects in mirror are closer than they appear to be’ got his hopes to die and breath to surrender in patient impatience.

The truck got by in a snail’s manner, loud crashes from collision of the wheels into the holes, but it finally carried its length and gave way to movement, which Reil took as a chance to get out of the trap and get on with this journey. He got close to the back of the truck, and due to how slow it drove, he had to get ahead.

The large steel box on wheels was just sluggish as hell as the driver was surely careful not to hit anything on the narrow road that was riddled with parked cars-cars-cars.

The dashboard kept cracking from the unkempt asphalt where tracks of vehicles had moved onto many-many times in repeats of unknown numbers. Reil opened the arm rest in the middle of the car, from where he pulled out an outdated radio that he quickly attached to the power supply itself in the middle of the dashboard, where light poured in blue.

But then, because he was too close to the slow truck, the car fell into a big hole that made the whole frame scrunch on itself to a deafening yelp from both metal and flesh.

Reil’s jaw clenched as he cursed through the depths of his mind and shifted into a lower gear that got the engine to roar with the bigger cycles. The gas pedal was smashed flat against the floor with the car filling the momentum with speed and getting on the side of the long and sluggish beast that hid traps underneath its tail.

Reil’s grip upon the wheel tightened as he saw a car in the distance, a prickle finding his gut, telling him that he wasn’t going to make it due to the narrow passage that left no choice but the one forward.

“R-R-Reeeeeeiiilll!!” Tristan yelled as he grabbed the handle above the door. The car in front of him wasn’t lowering its speed, as if the driver there wanted to go through them with steel and pain for the bad decision that was made. It got Reil’s leg to hesitate and release slightly off the pedal which got the car to stall and lose momentum. Yet he tried fixing the giant mistake by smashing his foot right back again, screams drenching his head for this stupidity.

His breath became plain and uncomfortable with the quickly developing situation. It got his mind to spit at the decision made amidst anger… But then the truck hit the brakes and its speed became flat, to which Reil grabbed the chance, feathers away from the front of the opposite vehicle, which passed through with speed that rattled the red coupe’s whole existence like a tornado.

A loud horn pierced the air from behind them, getting Reil’s goosebumps to evolve into a porcupine’s back.

Reil’s eyes carefully gave images to Tristan who was holding with both hands on the handle-still, yet Reil focused back on the road, imprinting on the mistake for the rest of his life.

His hand rolled down the window, air flooding in. His mind needed a distraction and got him to trail to the radio where his trembling finger missed the power button several times in frustration, until he clasped a knuckle and drove it into the poor electronic. The insides filled with loud death metal music, getting both men to bellow at the ear desolation. Why was this screamer still screaming?!

The channel was changed and with it came a slow-paced song of rock. Reil relaxed internally, the grip on the wheel