The flicker of ultra blue tinted high beams lit up Oscar's side mirrors, signaling that his two young competitors weren't far behind him. Oscar sped up, weaving between a few cars to lengthen his lead, but Zer0 and Bolt weren't shaken and kept gaining.

That was good, but now it was time to start throwing them off. And to do that, he'd have to take more risks. Navigating narrow gaps started to look all the more appealing or just splitting down the dividing line if there was no room, anything to avoid slowing down—giving the other two an easy chance to catch up.

Soon, all three of the bikers were going so fast that the cars sharing the road with them looked like they were practically standing still.

Oscar had never considered himself an artist, but he'd heard of them finding a flow while working...like a state of zen. Like that bald bro on his skateboard drinking juice and vibing to Fleetwood Mac. A different state. A zone.

And when he was going this fast, and he stopped feeling like he was on a vehicle and instead felt like he was flying—swimming through a river of stars instead of head and taillights—that was his flow. His perfect state.

Better than any high, in moments like this, Oscar's mind could sort of just shut off and let his body and raw instincts react so much faster than his conscious mind ever could...Nothing could stop him...

...Aaaaaand it didn't take the highway patrol long to take notice.

For the most part, the cops usually weren't a big problem for bikers.

The officers still had rules they had to follow, and protocols, and all that did was make it impossible for them to keep up—at least until they turned on their lights. The bright, strobing flashes of red, white, and blue, alerted the motorists around them, who started parting like the fucking red sea—one coming incredibly close to clipping Bolt, given he'd been right in their blind spot when they'd decided to try to get over.

"Still not a problem," Oscar assured himself—even as the number of police cruisers behind them slowly climbed—because even if their cars could keep pace and they didn't have civilian motorists to worry about, they were still too big to go where bikes could.

They had only rode a few more blocks before the distance between them and the cops had really stretched. But just as Oscar was inwardly appreciating how quickly the KPD had given up, it was as if the police had read his mind and, out of sheer spite, a bright light dropped down out of the sky over him, Zer0, and Bolt—like a blazing abduction beam from a UFO.

"Are you serious?" Oscar exclaimed, but he told himself the helicopter wasn't a problem either. He knew he could lose it and the cops, it was just going to take a little detour through a familiar neighborhood...

Max's ears perked, and he leaned forward just in time to catch a glimpse through his windshield of the black and white chopper hauling ass overhead with a search light on. He'd heard the sirens while on his way back to his car, but sirens weren't at all out of the ordinary for Commerce City, so he'd ignored them entirely. He wasn't sure how he wanted to proceed now.

He'd found the door to Oz's apartment with several pieces of tape plastered to it, each one clinging onto partial slips of paper that'd been ripped off. His knocking had gone unanswered, just like his calls, and some dumb old fart sitting in the hallway had muttered something at him along the lines of 'stupid fed' when he'd walked past.

Sighing, Max pinched the bridge of his nose and relaxed back into the driver's seat, then shoved his key into the ignition and rolled his windows down.

Oscar was being slippery... And none of the contacts he'd reached out to had been any help.

"Hey!" the same old bum from upstairs wheezed at him, trying to flag him down as he shambled towards Max's car. "Hey!"

"I'm not a fucking cop, man."

"Hey! What's all the ruckus?" the man asked anyway, pointing at the sky, and nearly missing his own mouth when he tried to take a drag from the smoke in his other hand. "Who're they after?"

"I said I'm not a-"

But just then, something clicked...

Max jerked open his glove box, and shoved some traffic tickets aside that were never actually processed, and fished out an old KPD radio he'd commandeered a few years back.

Maybe if Mr. Bradley wasn't taking any calls, it was because he was a little loaded down with office work.

He turned the radio on and, after listening in for a few seconds, it was pretty clear that what the little pigs were scrambling and squealing over were some very reckless drivers...on motorcycles.

The laugh that erupted from Max's chest was pure, devilish joy.

"Gotchya, you little shit!" he said, tossing the radio down into the passenger seat, and throwing his car in drive.

It had to be Oz. He'd bet money on it.

"Well?" the old man tried to press, but Max's brain was already miles down the road as he peeled away from the curb and tore down the darkened street.

Unfortunately, Oscar and his ride-alongs hadn't made it to the on-ramp of the interstate fast enough. He wasn't sure what had gotten into their Wheaties, but the KPD were really on their A-game tonight, which figured. It was fine, though.

He knew some surface streets they could cut between, and Bolt and Zer0 seemed to have a similar idea, because they kept up, even as Oscar took a sharp turn down a narrow, single lane alley and crossed through one-way traffic to get to the lane on the far side from them.

What did seem to concern the younger men, however, was the sleek sports car that pulled an immediate U-turn to get behind them and was right on their tails. Bolt quite literally bolted past Zer0, trying to put someone else between him and the stranger. And he seemed even further spooked when Oscar slowed down a little.

The car flashed its high beams once before speeding past Zer0 and Bolt, and pulling up beside Oscar.

"Can't resist causing a scene, can you?" Max yelled out of his window at Oscar, grinning when the punk performed an exaggerated shrug in response.

Now, normally, he did his best work alone. Other people always just complicated his plans and Max—well, Max was really good at distracting him and getting in his way, but as the searchlight shakily panned the street just up ahead, Oscar sighed.

"Alexa—stop the music. Call Max."

"Okay. Calling Max," the voice repeated back.

"Sorry, Oz," Max said as soon as he answered, even though the mafia prince didn't sound sorry at all. "You know how nosey I am."

"Nah, it's whatever," Oscar replied. "Do you think you could—you know—call in a favor or something?"

It wasn't that he needed Max's help to get away from the cops. He absolutely could. On his own, anyway. Like, if it'd just been him, and he didn't have to worry about Viper's friends being able to keep up with him while not becoming a smear across someone's SUV.

"Yeah, I could do that..."

Oscar cringed. He knew that tone. It felt like there was an unsaid "but..." at the end. "Any time would be great."

"Will you meet me somewhere if I do?"

There it was.

"Look, Max, I'm a little busy-"

"I can see that. And so will half of Kingsport at this rate."

Right...all the 6 o'clock news watchers. Cable TV was so stupid...

"You can bring the kids you're sitting too, Oz, I just want a few minutes. That's it. That's all I'm asking for."

Sighing, Oscar glanced over at Max. "Fiiiiine. Where?"

"I'll send you the address," Max said before ending their call.

Oscar really hadn't wanted to double back towards downtown, but when they dipped into a private parking garage that was below street level, he could at least concede that it was a decent place to hide out for a bit.

The mafia prince wasn't hard to spot. His car was the only one there. Oscar hadn't even killed his motor before Bolt and Zer0, still high on adrenaline, were off of their bikes.

"That was sick, Bro! That was my first helicopter!!" Zer0 said, smacking Bolt on the arm.

"I've ran from one before," Bolt claimed.

Oscar pulled off his helmet and shook his bangs out of his face. While he parked his bike on the passenger side of Max's car.

"Yo! Is that a rental?" Zero asked, rolling his bike over. "That car's sick. I've driven one of those for a few videos."

"Give me a minute," Oscar mumbled before climbing into Max's passenger seat and closing the door, noticing immediately how muted the boys sounded.

Max exhaled a thin line of smoke before offering his cigarette to Oscar.

"So... Thanks," Oscar said, taking the cigarette and perching it between his lips. "For the-" he motioned with his finger towards the sky.

"Yeah..." Max said, resting his arm on the back of Oscar's seat.

"Well?"

Max side glanced at him. "Why'd you leave? I don't mean why'd you come back to Kingsport, I get that. I was a douche, but I mean what wasn't working for you?"

"What wasn't working?"

"Yeah. About us."

Oscar's initial reaction was to huff and shake his head, but the moment he did, it felt...bad. Max was staring at him now with a tiny crease between his brows and a frown on his lips.

"Look, Max, I really like you. And I like your family—they're pretty chill—but that's not where I belong. I can't sit in a mansion all day, playing your sister's boyfriend, and not getting to do anything."

Max nodded. "I told them, by the way," he said, gently taking the cigarette from Oscar, fingertips brushing his lips.

"Huh?"

"I told them-" Max took a drag. "My parents. That you were my boyfriend. Not Ellie's."

"Oh...shit."

"Yeah."

"How'd that go?"

Max shrugged. "Didn't disown me, but weren't happy about it... Will you forgive me?"

"Sure," Oscar shrugged. "For what?"

"I dunno... For not being a very good partner?" Max asked, stretching his back before resting his hand on the shifter between them.

A half smirk slid across Oscar's face and he bumped the side of Max's hand with his knuckles. "S'all good, Bro. Besides, it's not like I didn't have some fun too. I mean how often does someone like me get to crash a big snob party or break a zipper on a pair of pants at a fancy rich people concert?"

Max's serious exterior broke, and he snickered, rolling his eyes as he took Oscar's hand in his own. "I still wanna have moments like that with you."

"Same," Oscar replied. "And I still want my own things. Like the gang I'm forming."

Max's jaw tightened just slightly, but he nodded. "What're you callin' it?" he asked, leaning in a little.

"What?"

"Your gang?" Max laughed. "What are you gonna call it?"

Oscar's ears burned but he smiled as he gave Max's hand a firm squeeze and let his gaze travel down to Max's soft lips. "I hadn't really thought ab-"

A knock on the side window next to Oscar made both of them jump, and he cussed at the kid trying to peer in through the heavy tinting. "Dude, I think someone's blowing up your phone. Unless you set an alarm or something," Bolt said, lifting up and pointing at Oz's helmet for emphasis.

Oz practically pushed him back as he opened the door and climbed out, pulling on his helmet and answering.

"Sup?"

"Oscar! Where there fuck are you?" Charley didn't sound good. He sounded shaky, which made the color leave Oscar's face.

"Why? What's going on?"

"Mother fuckers hit the new garage! Avery's dead. I'm on my fucking way to the hospital with a couple of the others! Dammit!"

Oscar's stomach was instantly in knots. "Who?! Who did?"

"Vick! Vick and the fuckin' Rejects!"

"Call ya back," he gritted out.

"Oscar! Wait-"

So Vick wanted a go at them already? Well, that was fine. Oscar might not have had the numbers he was hoping for yet, but he still had a card up his sleeve that the Rejects didn't. Sure, they still probably had Pasta Boy in their hand, but Oscar had a royal flush, with an ace high...

He pulled off his helmet and turned around to see Max peering at him through the open passenger door, and the boys giving him a questioning look.

"What's happening?" the Irish mafia prince asked.

"You got a piece on you?"

"Always."

Oscar straddled his bike. "Good..."

Getting down to the wire here!!! 😬 Any predictions of who might not make it to the end of this story? 🫣👀

Shout out to Ivonnem1979 and LeFoxxy !! Thank you both for your support!!