Several minutes later, the car rolled south under a night sky.
Ash drove.
Don sat in the passenger seat, elbow braced against the door, eyes turned toward the passing blur beyond the glass.
The radio filled the space they weren't using.
"…I'm telling you, it's not the same city anymore," a man said, voice tinny through the speakers. "You've got more feds on the streets, bigger body counts every week, and a hell of a lot more superhuman incidents than anyone wants to admit. This place used to be one of the safer spots out west. Now? It's a mess."
Another voice cut in, amused but tired. "Yeah, I agree. And it's not just capes and freak accidents. Just yesterday the FBI pulled off a massive drug bust down at the docks. I mean big. Took down a major player."
Ash's hands tightened slightly on the wheel.
The host continued. "Name was Johnny Black. You heard of him?"
A second past.
"Nah," the other guy said. "Sounds like a porn star, not gonna lie."
Both laughed.
