Chapter 225
A ride (2)
The truck rolled on in silence, the low hum of the engine the only sound within the vehicle. Both IAM and Thor had fallen quiet again, letting their earlier conversation drift into the shadows of their own thoughts.
IAM leaned against the passenger-side window, his eyes tracing the blurred lights of the passing streets, his mind circling questions that refused to land. Thor's fingers drummed softly on the steering wheel from habit, his gaze fixed on the road with an unreadable expression.
Then suddenly—Thor frowned.
"What is that?" he muttered, squinting ahead.
IAM sat up straighter and followed his gaze. Out the front window, two white cars had just turned into their lane, cutting across traffic at dangerously high speeds. They weaved between other vehicles recklessly, ignoring red lights and crossing junctions with no hesitation. Horns were blared and tires screeched as they dodged the speeding cars. Pedestrians shouted from the sidewalks. It was chaos.
"Are they racing?" IAM asked.
"No," Thor said flatly. "They're running from something. Or someone."
He watched the cars more closely, eyes narrowing as he traced their trajectory. "If they keep going like that..."
IAM saw it too—their path was going to intersect directly with theirs in a matter of seconds.
Thor sighed and shook his head with the mild annoyance like he had been pulled into a mess on a day off. "Looks like we're going to have to stop them."
IAM blinked, turning to him quickly. "Wait—what?"
"I said," Thor repeated, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, "we're going to have to stop them."
He said it so casually that it didn't sound real. Like he was talking about parallel parking instead of intercepting two rogue vehicles mid-escape.
"What exactly are you planning?" IAM asked slowly, eyes narrowing as he glanced between Thor's focused face and the cars ahead.
Thor gave a sideways grin and patted the steering wheel once, like he was greeting an old friend before a job. "I'm planning," he said with a spark of amusement, "to test your driving skills."
There was a second of silence as IAM turned his entire body toward him.
"…What?"
Thor's grin widened.
And then his foot slammed on the clutch.
...
Inside one of the white vehicles, five people sat crammed into the tight space—three in the backseat, two in the front. The air was thick with tension, it felt like every breath feel like a countdown. The city lights streaked across their faces as the car blazed through another red light, the tires screeching faintly against the asphalt.
The driver—a man in his late twenties with sweat clinging to his forehead—gritted his teeth as he yanked the wheel, narrowly missing a taxi that had tried to cut across the intersection.
"Shit, shit, shit!" he muttered under his breath, his voice a low snarl of panic. "How the fuck did they find us!? And why the hell are they even here?!"
A girl seated behind him snapped, "Just step on it! We have to regroup with the rest and turn this around!" She twisted around to check the rear window, eyes scanning the chaos behind them. Her nails dug into the headrest in front of her, as her jaw clenched tight.
One of the men sitting in the back was hunched over a crackling walkie-talkie, his voice low and sharp. "Can you guys see them?" he asked into the receiver, speaking to the other white vehicle following behind.
A burst of static came through, then a voice replied, slightly distorted. "No visual yet. Just keep going—we're right behind you. I can hear the police joining in on the chase. If they think we're all one group, they'll stay focused on them. We can lose them... as long as nothing goes wrong."
Everyone in the car looked forward in silence.
As long as nothing went wrong.
Suddenly, a loud metallic bang echoed from above, shaking the car violently for a split second. The vehicle swerved slightly in its lane as the driver fought to keep it steady, his eyes were wide with panic.
"What the fuck was that!?" someone shouted, the fear in their voice slicing through the car's tension like a blade.
The roof above them now had a visible dent—a shallow but jarring impression near the center, as if something heavy had landed straight on top of them.
"I don't know!" came the frantic reply from the passenger seat.
"Shit, check the mirrors or something—did something hit the roof?!" someone yelled from the back.
"I can't see from here," the driver snapped, his hands glued to the wheel. "I have to keep my eyes on the road or we're dead!"
Before anyone could respond, a sharp creaking metallic sound rang out from above— it sounded like claws dragging across steel.
Everyone in the backseat froze.
"Is something… up there?" one of them whispered. "What is that noise?"
The sound grew louder.
Then, to their horror, a set of fingers punched through the roof.
The metal groaned as it stretched and flexed, not like a hard shell, but like fabric being tugged. The fingers curled, grabbed, and with one violent motion—peeled back the roof.
The entire upper panel tore off with a shriek of rending steel, torn away like it was nothing.
Cold air flooded in. So did reality.
They were not alone.
They looked up through the gaping hole in the roof—and saw him.
The figure responsible was crouched effortlessly on the edge, one hand gripping the torn sheet of metal like it weighed nothing. The wind howled around him, whipping at his clothes and hair, but he looked completely unfazed.
His hair was short and blond, neatly trimmed at the sides. He was lean but tall—easily over six feet— he looked like a man who'd seen war and brought some of it back with him.
His eyes were brown. But not soft. They were cloudy. Like his gaze wasn't fully here—as if something behind those eyes was watching from a different place, thinking different thoughts.
There was something unsettling about him. You got the sense that whatever he saw when he looked at you… wasn't you.
And then—he smiled.
As if he hadn't just peeled their roof off with his bare hands, Thor smiled down at them and said casually, "Hey! I just wanted to ask a question!"
His long black leather jacket flapped wildly behind him, reaching down to his calves, lined with too many pockets and straps to count. The wind caught the hem and made it dance like a flag in a storm.
"Could you give me a ride?" he asked, like it was the most normal thing in the world.