Instinctively, the three boys slammed their brakes, bringing their bikes to an abrupt halt. Their hearts pounded erratically as the sheer force of the sonic boom left them shaken to their cores. It was as though a crushing weight had slammed down on them, leaving their chests tight and their breaths uneven.
Their ears rang relentlessly as they looked up, the source of the deafening noise drawing their attention skyward.
Hovering above them, vast and imposing, was a machine unlike anything they had ever seen before. Even the largest ships they'd encountered paled in comparison to this behemoth in the sky.
A massive spaceship loomed overhead, more like a floating fortress than a conventional vessel. Its immense size cast a shadow over the sprawling city—Jejity, which spanned over 45,000 square kilometers—plunging it into an eerie, metallic twilight.
The clouds parted before the ship as it moved with deliberate, menacing grace, its dark metallic hull swallowing the sky.
"What in the world is that?" Trumm muttered, though the ringing in his ears drowned out his own words.
This is why everything has felt wrong tonight. Messimah thought, a deep certainty settling within him. His intuition screamed at him to leave the city—now. But the connection between this monstrous ship and Gaus's sudden aggression eluded him. Was there a link? Impossible…
"Simah!" Trumm's voice broke through his daze, snapping him back to reality. "Let's go!"
Gola had already sped off, his bike disappearing into the distance. Trumm followed close behind, and without wasting another moment, Messimah revved his engine and joined them.
The wail of the sirens continued, amplifying the oppressive atmosphere. Then, the announcement blared again, its chilling words echoing across the city:
"I repeat! This is a directive from the Governor. A new order has been issued: everyone is to remain indoors until government personnel instruct otherwise. Any individual found outside—regardless of age, gender, or status—will be charged with treason and executed immediately!"
Pushing their bikes to full throttle, the boys couldn't shake the unease creeping over them. This was far beyond anything they had prepared for.
Never in their wildest imaginations had they envisioned such chaos unfolding on the very night they decided to make their debut.
Everything was going fine—until it wasn't.
"Damn it! Even if we had the best armor-piercing rounds, we probably couldn't even scratch that giant thing," Trumm blurted out, as though he had genuinely entertained the idea of shooting the colossal ship out of the sky.
"The fact that you even considered that…" Messimah said evenly, masking the nervous tension he felt as well.
"Any weaponry aboard a machine like that would be far beyond what we can comprehend," Gola chimed in, his voice steady. "If you fire at them, and they decide to retaliate, they could level a few city blocks just to make a point."
A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by the roar of their engines and the rushing wind as they sped through the city.
"Damn it!" Trumm exclaimed again, his frustration spilling over. "Getting chased by those loan sharks feels like child's play compared to this. We just wanted to make some money!"
Messimah and Gola exchanged knowing glances. They were used to Trumm's habit of venting whenever he felt overwhelmed, a quirk they'd come to expect after years of growing up together.
"With the new directive forcing everyone indoors, I imagine Gaus's men will have to go into hiding too," Gola remarked, glancing at the holographic display on his bike's dash.
The screen flickered to life, showing live feeds from micro-drones stationed around the city exits and other strategic points.
"But now the cops will be on high alert," Messimah added. "They might have ignored us before, but being outside while everyone else is ordered indoors will make us an easy target." He paused, noticing Gola's sudden silence as he examined the screen.
"What is it?" Messimah asked, his tone sharpening.
"Gaus's men," Gola replied grimly. "They're still at the exits... and the cops there don't seem too eager to enforce this new directive on them."
"Has it always taken this long to leave the city?" Trumm vented, barely paying attention to Gola and Messimah's conversation.
The sentiment wasn't lost on his companions; they, too, felt as though the city's edge was endlessly distant despite being so close.
Under normal circumstances, reaching the city's exit would take several hours, such as the eight-hour journey from Jeji Park when adhering to vehicle speed limits. But at their current pace, they should've already halved that time.
"One thing is certain," Gola remarked, "on a festive night like this, the streets are packed. People are panicking, scrambling for safety. They're too distracted to notice us."
"That's a relief," Messimah muttered.
"But seriously, why is all of this happening?" Trumm continued to vent.
Though they had never ventured beyond their city, they knew the challenges of traveling between cities on this planet. Most people remained confined to their birthplaces, as intercity travel required immense resources and was fraught with danger.
Only the wealthy could afford the exorbitant fees for starship transport, the only viable means of traversing the perilous expanses between cities. Even then, entering another city legally demanded extensive documentation and identity verification.
For those like Messimah and his companions, who lived on the fringes of society, such formalities were a luxury.
They lacked proper identities, existing outside the city's official records.
To the government, people like them were expendable—easily enslaved or killed without consequence. And for Messimah and his crew, being fugitives wasn't just a possibility; it was a way of life.
Messimah and his companions were well aware of these challenges, having meticulously researched ways to minimize the difficulties of their escape.
They considered sneaking into another city and living as fugitives or paying exorbitant sums to forge identities that could pass most scrutiny. Though far from wealthy, they were nothing if not resourceful.
The weapons, bionic skeletal suits, and bikes they now relied on were either stolen from the rich, plundered from the government, or salvaged from junkyards and meticulously repaired. The bikes, in particular, had been stolen from a prominent company in the wealthier parts of Jejity.
"Things can't possibly get worse than this, right, guys?" Trumm said, his nerves settling just enough to jinx them.
Messimah and Gola exchanged wary glances, a shared unease tightening in their chests.
Almost on cue, streaks of yellow light erupted from the fortress in the sky, dispersing in all directions across the city. Moments later, the group realized that five of those ominous beams were heading straight for them.
"What are those!?" Trumm exclaimed, gripping the throttle tightly and pushing his bike to its limit.
Messimah and Gola accelerated as well, but unlike Trumm, they didn't care to find out what the streaks were—they only knew they wanted to stay far away from them.
Glancing back, they saw the yellow streaks rapidly closing the gap.
"Damn it! They're catching up!" Messimah cursed.
Before the words had fully left his mouth, a red beam shot past him, narrowly missing his bike and searing into the road.
The impact left a glowing scorch mark, smoke curling into the air.
As Gola had predicted, the fortress in the sky carried weapons far deadlier than anything they'd encountered before—lethal enough to obliterate them with ease.
"They're armed!" Trumm shouted, his voice tinged with panic.
Messimah turned for a better look at the streaks. From his vantage point, they resembled silver shuttles—compact spacecraft that could fit two men each. He noticed the barrels on their wings glowing red, primed to fire.
"Scatter!" Messimah ordered.
They had been racing across an old, weathered bridge. At Messimah's command, Trumm veered left and Gola right, smashing through the iron railings and plummeting to the radioactive, muddied ground, a few meters below.
Messimah stayed on the bridge, zigzagging to avoid the hail of red beams that peppered the road behind him.
He was certain a single hit would be fatal.
Two of the shuttles pursued Messimah, while the remaining three dove after Trumm and Gola below.
The shuttles closed in fast, their weapons firing relentlessly. Despite his evasive maneuvers, Messimah knew it was only a matter of seconds before they overtook him.
But that was exactly what he was waiting for.
Letting go of the handlebars, Messimah reached for the modified rifle strapped to his back. In one fluid motion, he stood on the seat of his speeding bike, raising the weapon to aim at the tinted glass of the nearest shuttle.
Bang!
The shot's recoil jolted through his arm, twisting his shoulder painfully. The force nearly threw him off the bike, and if not for the support of his bionic skeletal suit, the impact might have shattered his shoulder and sent him tumbling.
The bullet struck the shuttle's glass dead-on, but Messimah's pupils dilated in frustration. The armor-piercing round failed to penetrate, leaving only faint fractures on the surface.
In response, the shuttle Messimah had fired upon, now at close range, swiveled its nozzles toward him, the barrels glowing ominously red. Reacting instantly, Messimah leaped off his bike, landing squarely on the shuttle's glass canopy.
Without hesitation, he delivered a powerful punch with his gauntlet, targeting the exact spot where his bullet had lodged.
The shuttle, seemingly caught off guard by Messimah's bold move, ascended rapidly, carrying him several meters into the sky and away from his still-speeding bike.