The Heat of the Night

1:00 A.M, Lubbock, TX
An electric blue Dodge Charger zooms down the road, going well over the 40 mile-per-hour speed limit. Three boys, each 17 years old, sit within the car, blasting Bury Your Dead on the car’s radio. The driver has blond hair that hangs down to his shoulders, and a slightly muscular build. His eyes are focused on two things: the road and the music. He handles the car with great skill, easily maneuvering tight turns like they were nothing. In the front passenger seat is a boy with dark skin. His raven black hair flies wildly as he slams his head around violently, matching the power of the metal blasting through the stereo despite his slim build. In the back, another one slams his head to the beat of the music. His body is hugely muscled and his brown hair is kept short. The trio head down University, adrenaline pumping in their veins.

Suddenly, the dark one looks out the window and notices that the streetlights go out as they pass. He turns to the driver, who nods in his direction. The lights can only mean one thing; the boys have company. Five black motorcycles drive up next to the car, flames spouting from the wheels. The driver closes his eyes for a moment, calling upon the darkness of the night. As the shadows swirl around them, the dark one and the big one roll down their windows and begin to climb on top of the car. The dark one produces a huge sword, and his companion pulls out a tremendous axe. They nod to each other and the dark one leaps toward the nearest bike, his sword cutting easily into his adversary’s arm. The driver of the bike lets out an inhuman shriek of pain. The bikers leap into action as well, pulling fiery chains out and swinging wildly at the car and the two warriors leaping between them. One of the bikes hurls itself into the air, only to be met by the dark one. With a slash of his sword, he cuts the bike in two, sending its driver into the ground. He lands upon the car and turns to the big one with a grin. “You gonna join the fun any time soon?” he asks teasingly.

“Whatever, you know I can’t do none of the high-flying shit you pull.” The dark one shrugs and hurls himself back into action, sending another driver to its unholy home. A flaming chain wraps itself around the big one’s arm and starts to pull him, but he has other plans. With a shout, he pulls the driver off his bike and swings him around. He slams the driver into his companions, causing another to crash. Then, the car suddenly jerks. The two warriors standing atop the vehicle lose their balance as the car loses control. The car flips over, instantly ending the lives of the two who fought to protect it. The last thing any of the three saw before their deaths was a white van with a mysterious symbol decorating the door. The last remaining biker stops for a moment, watching over his kill before vanishing in a wisp of shadowy mist. The van sits for a few moments more, as though gloating. It then drives off into the night, as discreetly as it had arrived.

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