Chapter 3 The Right Side.

  Niko woke up to the sound of a rattling window and the distant hum of engines somewhere far off in the city. For a moment, he stayed still, staring at the cracked ceiling above his bed. Morning light leaked through the thin curtains, painting faint lines across the walls of his small room.

  Another day.

  He rolled out of bed and stretched, joints popping as his feet hit the cold floor. The apartment was quiet except for the faint clatter coming from the kitchen. The smell of eggs and toast drifted down the hallway.

  “Ma,” Niko called, rubbing his eyes.

  “In here,” his mother replied.

  He stepped into the kitchen, already pulling on a hoodie. His mother stood by the stove, hair tied back, her movements careful and slow in the way that came from years of working too many hours. She glanced at him, her eyes lingering just a bit longer than usual.

  “You’re up early,” she said.

  “Yeah. Got stuff to do today,” Niko replied, grabbing a plate.

  She slid the food toward him but didn’t smile. Instead, she leaned back against the counter, arms crossed.

  “Niko,” she said quietly, “I don’t want you hanging around those boys anymore.”

  He froze for half a second, then forced himself to relax. He’d heard this before.

  “It’s fine, Ma,” he said, trying to sound casual. “You don’t gotta worry about me. I trust Night Rider.”

  Her jaw tightened at the name.

  “And it seems like he’s got a bit of a soft spot for me,” Niko added quickly, almost proud.

  She shook her head. “That’s exactly how they get you. I know all about those types of guys.” Her voice lowered. “Don’t be like your father.”

  Niko looked up sharply.

  “I want you to be better than him,” she continued, eyes glossy now. “He promised things too. Said he was protecting people. Look where that got us.”

  “Mom,” Niko said gently, standing. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

  She stepped closer, hands trembling slightly as she rested them on the table. “I just don’t want you to turn out the same as your father. I just want to protect you.”

  Niko swallowed. He reached out and squeezed her hand.

  “I understand,” he said. “I’ll be careful. But trust me—you don’t need to worry.”

  She searched his face for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

  Niko grabbed his keys and headed for the door before either of them could say something they couldn’t take back.

  Outside, the air was cool and heavy with the smell of oil and damp concrete. He walked down the narrow pathway toward his driveway, where his car sat waiting—black, clean, quiet. He got in, started the engine, and pulled onto the street.

  As he drove, he checked his mirror.

  A cop car.

  His stomach tightened instantly.

  Relax, he told himself. You’re doing nothing wrong.

  The cop pulled up beside him at the stoplight. Niko stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, forcing his breathing to stay even. He could feel the officer’s eyes on him.

  Against his better judgment, he glanced over.

  The cop was already looking.

  The officer lifted a hand and motioned sharply to the side.

  “Damn it,” Niko muttered.

  He pulled over. The cop followed, parking behind him. The door slammed shut as the officer stepped out.

  “Come out of the car,” the cop said.

  “What for?” Niko asked, keeping his voice steady.

  “I suspect you as an accomplice of Night Rider.”

  Niko laughed in disbelief. “This is crazy. You judging me just by my car?”

  “Yeah,” the cop said flatly. “I am. Now move.”

  “And I know that look you gave me,” the cop continued. “That’s that brainwashing Night Rider puts inside all you rebels’ heads.”

  Niko clenched his fists but stepped out anyway. The cop moved fast—too fast—slamming him against the hood.

  “What the hell, man?” Niko snapped.

  “Stop resisting!” the cop barked.

  Niko didn’t fight. What else could he do?

  Then it happened.

  The roar of engines tore through the street.

  Two motorcycles flew past, loud and fast, their engines screaming like a challenge. The cop spun around, hand flying to his radio.

  “I need backup,” he shouted. “Two rebel riders on the northeast side of the rebel half!”

  He ran back to his car and sped off, siren blaring.

  Niko stood there, stunned.

  Then he smiled.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He remembered something Night Rider had told him once—quietly, seriously.

  On the rebel side, we help each other when someone’s in trouble.

  Niko laughed softly, got back into his car, and drove off.

  The warehouse sat hidden behind rusted fencing and dead streets—easy to miss if you didn’t know what you were looking for. Bikes were tucked away, shadows layered on shadows.

  Niko parked and stepped inside.

  The place buzzed with energy—voices echoing, laughter, engines being tuned. A man approached him.

  “You’re Niko, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come with me. Night Rider isn’t here right now. Dax needs to pass something from Night Rider to you.”

  Niko nodded and followed.

  They climbed stairs to a small office. Inside, Dax Calderon sat with his boots on the desk, chair leaned back like he owned the world.

  “I brought him, sir,” the man said.

  “Good,” Dax replied. “You can go.”

  The door closed.

  “What did Night Rider want you to pass on to me?” Niko asked.

  Dax blinked. “Oh yeah. That’s why you’re here.” He leaned forward. “Starting tomorrow, you’re scouting the northwest side.”

  “Why over there?”

  “Because we don’t have much impact there yet,” Dax said. “And he trusts you enough to scout over there.”

  Niko nodded. “Sure thing.”

  “Not today,” Dax added. “Tomorrow.”

  “Oh—right.”

  Dax smirked. “Now today, we’re hosting a party. Your first one. So here are the rules.”

  He held up a finger. “One—don’t be a loser and sit in a corner all night. Unless you’re making out with a hot chick.”

  Niko blinked.

  “Two—never tell anyone the location or who’s coming.”

  “Three—don’t break rule number two.”

  “Got it?”

  “Yeah,” Niko said. “Sounds easy enough. I don’t know where to find a hot chick though, would they be at the supermarket?”

  “Get out,” Dax said instantly.

  Niko bolted out.

  "Gosh he's an idiot."

  The warehouse was once a steel facility.

  Now it was home to The Fangs—the largest rebel group in Velastra, led by Night Rider and his Four Shadows.

  A girl with black hair woke up in her room, sunlight brushing her back. The word RAVEN stretched across her skin in sharp, elegant ink.

  In another corner of the city, a girl with long blonde hair laughed into a camera, her stream lighting her face.

  “Alright chat, tonight’s party is gonna be crazy,” Switch said, eyes shining.

  In a garage, a boy with white hair slammed punches into a bag, muscles tense and focused.

  “Zane?” someone called.

  “What?” he replied coldly.

  “Pizza’s here.”

  “…Fine.”

  And somewhere quieter, Night Rider cleaned the visor for his helmet. His face stayed hidden, but the tattoo on his neck—Night Rider—caught the light.

  Niko drove through the rebel side, streets rough and alive.

  The rebel side isn’t pretty, he thought. And our government might not be the greatest. But we’re the ones who stand up to the corruption.

  He smiled.

  Everyone on the protected side thinks they’re safe.

  But me? I like my chances with Night Rider.

  The city glowed in the distance—beautiful, bright, and lying through its teeth.

  By the time Niko saw the glow of the party site, it was already too late to turn back.

  Flashes of neon light leaked through the cracks of distant buildings, pulsing against the dark like a heartbeat. As he drove deeper into the industrial stretch of the rebel side, the streets grew rougher—cracked pavement, rusted fences, warehouses slouched together like tired giants. The farther he went, the louder the bass became, vibrating through the steering wheel, through his chest, through his bones.

  Each block closer made the music clearer. Not just noise—energy. Chaos wrapped in rhythm.

  Niko slowed as figures appeared near the building, silhouettes moving with purpose. Guards. Rebels posted at the entrance, eyes sharp despite the party atmosphere. One of them raised a hand as Niko rolled down his window.

  “Invite?” the guard asked.

  Niko nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yeah.”

  The guard studied him for a half second longer than necessary, then stepped aside. “Go on.”

  The moment Niko stepped out of his car, the sound hit him full force. Music slammed into him like a wall—deep bass, fast beats, laughter cutting through it all. The warehouse doors were open just enough to let the light spill out in violent bursts of color.

  Inside, the party was already in full chaos.

  People packed the space shoulder to shoulder, bodies moving in every direction. Some danced wildly, others shouted over the music, bottles raised in the air. Colored lights flickered across graffiti-covered walls, making everything feel unreal, like the whole place existed outside time.

  Niko hesitated at the entrance, suddenly very aware of himself.

  What am I doing here?

  He moved forward anyway.

  Near one corner, a group of guys crowded around a makeshift table, cards slapped down hard. Money and chips were scattered everywhere. One voice rose above the rest—loud, angry, familiar.

  “That’s BS!” Dax shouted, slamming his hand down. “No way you had that hand.”

  Laughter erupted around him. Someone shoved a stack of chips toward Dax, grinning. Dax leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, shaking his head like the world had personally wronged him.

  Niko couldn’t help but smile faintly.

  As he continued through the crowd, someone caught his eye.

  A girl leaned against a metal pillar, confidence written into every part of her posture. She noticed him looking and smiled—slow, deliberate. She lifted her hand and waved.

  Niko’s heart skipped.

  He immediately looked away.

  “Was that a hot chick?” he muttered to himself, heat creeping into his face.

  Before he could escape deeper into his own thoughts, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

  “Yo!”

  Niko turned. The man he’d met earlier—the one who brought him to Dax—stumbled toward him, a bottle dangling loosely from his fingers. His eyes were glassy, his grin way too wide.

  “I’m so glad you could make it, dude,” the man said, throwing an arm around Niko’s shoulders like they’d known each other for years. “You picked a good night.”

  Niko stiffened slightly. “Uh… yeah.”

  “The drag race is about to start,” the man said, nearly shouting. “C’mon!”

  Niko blinked. “The drag race?”

  “Oh yeah,” the man laughed. “We always do drag races at our parties.”

  “Cool,” Niko said, surprised to hear himself say it.

  They pushed through the crowd together, moving toward the back of the warehouse. The air shifted as they stepped outside—cooler, sharper. The road stretched long and straight behind the building, blocked off by rebels lining both sides. Motorcycles idled nearby, engines growling low and hungry.

  People shouted, cheered, clapped, energy buzzing like static.

  “I can’t wait,” the man said, bouncing on his heels. “These always get me hyped.”

  A rider rolled forward, standing on his bike as he hyped up the crowd. His body was streaked with green glow-in-the-dark paint, glowing fiercely under blacklights. Across from him, his opponent—a girl—revved her engine, pink and green paint tracing sharp patterns across her arms and helmet.

  The crowd roared.

  A woman stepped into the center of the road, flag in hand. She raised it high, her voice cutting clean through the noise.

  “Drivers.”

  The engines revved louder.

  “Ready?”

  The riders leaned forward.

  “Start!”

  The flag dropped.

  They exploded forward, tires screaming as both riders pulled wheelies almost immediately, bikes surging down the road in a blur of neon and motion. The crowd lost its mind—people shouting, jumping, fists in the air.

  Halfway down, the male rider wobbled.

  Niko’s breath caught as the bike fishtailed. The rider lost control, crashing hard to the side, sparks flying as metal scraped pavement. People rushed toward him, voices overlapping.

  “You good?”

  “Holy sh*t!”

  Some laughed, adrenaline still high.

  The rider pushed himself up, dusted off, and threw his fists into the air. “YEAHHH!!”

  The crowd erupted again, louder than before.

  From above, Dax watched the scene from the second-floor railing, arms resting casually as he shook his head with a grin. His eyes followed the racers, sharp and thoughtful.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve raced,” he muttered. “I need to race soon, I guess.”

  A familiar voice chimed in beside him.

  “I’d love to see you race again.”

  Dax glanced sideways. Switch stood there, phone mounted, stream running, her blonde hair glowing under the lights. She smiled knowingly.

  “Why'd you say it like that?” Dax asked.

  Switch shrugged. “Your races always give me good viewership.”

  Dax snorted. “Using me for viewers. Nice.”

  She tilted her head. “Can you blame me?”

  Dax sighed, lips curling into a reluctant grin. “I guess not.”

  Above them, the night sky flashed—lights flickering against clouds, the city humming below.

  The party raged on.

  And somewhere in the chaos, Niko stood watching, heart pounding, realizing this wasn’t just a party.

  It was a statement.

  The music roared. Engines screamed. Rebels laughed, raced, lived.

  And for certain this time, Niko felt like.

  This was where he belonged.

  The lights flashed once more.

  And the night swallowed everything.