The wind lapped against his jacket as Ryan sped down the street, his motorcycle growling pleasantly as he went. With school out for the day, [i]and maybe even the rest of the year[/i], he wasn't really sure where to go, and with all these weird things he was experiencing, a good ride seemed like the only answer. 

     He had decided to take the long way home, he had no place to be, and he needed some time to escape his current deboggle. As he rode, the city became less coffee shops and pizza joints, and more power plants and utility buildings. The shittier side of town for lack of a better phrase. Tweakers and prostitutes on every corner, and the occasional homeless dude passed out on a bus stop bench or curb.

  [i]Yeah Ryan, that'd be a good way to end the day. Just get mugged, and lose your bike and rent money to one of these junkies.[/i] He rolled to a stop as he approached a 4-way. The street was mostly desolate, but he noticed a beat up car with brand new spoked rims on the right, and cars just loved pulling out in front of him, so he waited.

     A voice called out to his left, "Hey man!"

     Ryan turned to see a man in dirty clothes, thin as a rail, waving his arm at him. He didn't answer, but the turn of Ryan's head was apparently enough of a welcome for the man to walk out into the street towards his bike.

     "Hey man!" The guy repeated, still walking over to Ryan, in no hurry to get out of the road. "Say bruh, you got a cigarette?"

     Ryan shook his head, more in disbelief than an answer to the stranger.

     "Come on man, you can spare a cigarette!" The man insisted.

     Ryan looked back at the other car to the right, who still hadn't moved. He noticed someone leaning into the drivers window now.

     [i]Of course it's a drug deal. [/i]

     Ryan shook his head again and sped off. Leaving the man who wouldn't take no for an answer standing in the middle of the road. [i]Maybe I should find somewhere else to ride, this place is just a shithole.[/i]

     A few miles down the road he found a cross street that would probably lead back to the inner city, and turned on to it. There were less people here, and mostly just old warehouses, most of which seemed run down or otherwise vacant. He slapped his helmet a few times, trying to shake of the grogginess that was still lingering inside him. As tired as he was, he probably shouldn't be riding.

     [i]Home it is I guess.[/i]

     Suddenly there was a massive boom. A warm orange glow glared over the left side of his helmet visor, and as he turned his head he was barely able to see the explosion of the nearby warehouse before a large sheet of metal whisked past him. He swerved away from it, but as he turned forward, the thickest layer of smoke he had ever seen had already encompassed the road and he was completely blind. 

     He could hear shrapnel falling all around him, but before he could slow to a stop, he was struck by something large and hard. The sport bike slid out from under him, and he skidded across the road. The grinding of his helmet on the pavement tore through his ears as he slowed to a stop.

     He couldn't tell if he was on fire, or if his gear was just hot from the slide, but even in his helmet, the air was burning his lungs. He struggled to get up but collapsed back onto his face. 

     [i]My bike.[/i] He thought, trying to catch a glimpse of his beloved machine, but the smoke was too thick. He couldn't even see the pavement he was laying on. Ryan just layed there, pain shooting through his body, too tired to move. He could only hear the sound of his own aching breathes, amplified inside his helmet.

     [i]Get up.[/i] he told himself, [i]Get up and get out of the road.[/i]
But he couldn't move.

     As he tried to lift himself up again, he heard a tink on the back of his helmet. Something was on top of him. Now he could feel it digging into his shoe. His other shoe seemed to have disappeared, he could feel the air on his toes.

     He just laid there. Unable to move. His breathes getting harder to take. Where was the adrenaline he'd heard so much about? Why was he still so weak? The shrapnel finally stopped falling around him, and he could finally hear the familiar growl of his exhaust.

     [i]Well Grace....I guess we die together.[/i]