Crystal Avenue. 1:47 am.
The neighbourhood was awfully quiet, only the distant sound of El Zorro CBD crept down the streets, Stephen's mansion was darkly lit— the sprinkler's quenched the grasses thirst, as the streetlights shined unto the lawn. Inside, Tokyo was sitting in Akira's bedroom as she was comforting him back to sleep, she didn't really know what to do or say— she thought of how Katherine had the audacity to pull a stunt like this.
She pondered for a while, eventually she tended back to Akira. her cheek pressed against his head softly— feeling the soft beat from Akira's top head thud against her cheek. For the first time in a few years, Tokyo felt affection and a single tear slid from her eyes.
But another man had no clue what has happened in the last two hours, Stephen slept like a baby—deep, heavy, oblivious—until his body shifted restlessly beneath the sheets, he opened his eyes staring at the ceiling. The light shining from the bathroom blurred his vision, turned his head to his right. He noticed Katherine was not in bed, but the man Stephen— he ignored it thinking she couldn't sleep. But deep within him, he felt something was not right, he laid in the bed but this time he was waiting for her to return.
Spaghetti junction Highway. 1:52 am.
Route 47.
The highway sprawled ahead like a riddle—wide, winding, and nearly deserted. No steady stream of headlights. No familiar rhythm of traffic. Just long stretches of asphalt swallowed by darkness. A few figures lingered along the roadside—night crawlers, silhouettes drifting in and out of the glow of broken streetlights. People who belonged to the night more than the day.
Adriana's sedan cut through the silence, windows rolled down, as she felt the midnight breeze brush upon her. The breeze did nothing to calm her. If anything, it fed the urgency burning in her chest. Her foot pressed harder on the accelerator.
She looked frantic—like someone racing against time, like someone already too late.
"What could he possibly be planning?" she thought, her grip tightening on the steering wheel.
The speedometer climbed. The engine growled in protest, but she didn't ease up. She wanted distance, answers— she wanted to reach wherever this road was dragging her before everything fell apart.
"Please…" she whispered into the night, her voice barely audible over the wind.
"Please wait for me, Steph."
Up ahead, the highway curved sharply into darkness—no cars, no signs, no certainty.
Only the road.
South Border 1:57 am.
23 Miles. Vinniger Lane.
Mila's cries cut through the desert like a siren, echoing across the empty stretch of road. Both vehicles sat mangled and silent, their warning chimes pulsing in uneven rhythms, blinking red and amber into the dark.
Antonio and Katherine were still out cold.
Mila wasn't.
Her tiny lungs burned as she screamed, strapped helplessly in the back seat—awake, afraid, alive.
Then— a car door creaked open from the overturned vehicle off-road, a body spilled onto the sand, rolling once before stopping. The woman groaned, then laughed softly as she pushed herself upright.
She wore nothing practical—only erotic lingerie clinging to her skin, her long braids patterned neatly down her back. Blood slid from her hairline, dripping down her temple.
Mbali 'The Executioner' Legato.
She snapped her neck from side to side—muscles popping like fireworks. Calm and Methodical. Fire crackled behind her as she reached back into the smoking wreck, retrieving a burner phone. She walked toward Antonio's car, heels crunching over glass, dialing as she moved.
The line rang… Once… Twice.
"Max." she said flatly. "I found your two love birds."
A pause.
"Good." Max replied. "You know what to do."
Mbali's eyes flicked to the back seat—to Mila, red-faced and screaming.
"And the bitch… and her baby?"
"They're not my concern right now." Max said coolly. "Do what you're told and meet me at the riverbed. Piece him up—but don't kill him. Not until I get there."
Mbali smirked. "Yeah. Whatever."
The call ended.
She crushed the burner beneath her heel, plastic snapping under pressure. Mila's cries filled the silence again—louder now, desperate.
The taillight flared, bathing Mbali in red. She drew a Glock nine from her thigh, blood still slick on her palms. Slowly, deliberately, she dragged her tongue across the crimson on her skin—then laughed under her breath.
Step by step, she cat-walked closer to the car.
The cries didn't stop. And inside the wreck— Antonio stirred.
Crystal Avenue. 2:00 am.
Meanwhile back in the Mansion, Stephen was up and he wandered down the hallway— barging in one room and another, his expression clearly searching. He walked up to Tokyo's bedroom door, "Tokyo." he called out as he knocked on the door. Unfortunately, Voice had not call back, Stephen left leading down the hallway towards the stairs. As he neared, a glimpse of a side eye— spied into Akira's room, cornered down the hallway.
The door was open, and Tokyo was in sight… sitting on a rocker— half asleep, carrying Akira. "Tokyo." he said, Stephen crept closer and closer, almost reaching the door…
When suddenly… the gate ringer went off, catching his attention. He stopped at the door— gazing at Akira and Tokyo, both of them sleeping cozily together. Then he left tended to the ringer, once he reached the CCTV footage— he saw a man, dressed in and amber suit and dark glasses hiding his eyes.
Stephen pressed the intercom "Who are you?" he asked.
"Is it that hard to remember me?" the man asked, satire imbued in his tone.
Stephen frowned "What are you talking about?" he asked.
The man smiled faintly "I'm unimpressed… Ghost." the replied.
Stephen sighed slightly "Look man, you've got the wrong house…"
"Wait!" the man chipped in "Jupiter's creeper." he added.
Stephen stood stun struck, then it clicked to him in his brain… a memory he thought he had forgot— pasts he once sworn to forget.
"M-" his voice caught "Max." Stephen said, staring at him through the camera.
Max adjusted his hair— fixing his glasses "How's it been, Stephen?" Max said.