"You're late. They always are." KIAN "Get off!" WOMAN "I am the delivery. You're carrying me to the Second Circle. If you crash, I ride you forever." She grins. Her teeth are fingernails.
He turns a corner. The neon city lights flicker OFF. bike of hell script
The wind HOWLS like whispered confessions. Shapes move in the fog—two figures entwined, then fifty, then a tornado of grasping limbs. "You're late
"It's just noodles. How bad can traffic be?" He accepts the route. His phone SCREECHES. The screen ripples like blood in water. bike of hell script