In the dark and quiet underground garage, the freckled boy opened a small door.
The space inside the door is small, only a few square meters, but it is enough to accommodate a car.
Motorcycles are even easier to drive.
"I don't know how to ride a motorcycle, and I don't know what model it is..."
The freckled boy walked towards the motorcycle parked in the middle, covered with a dust sheet.
He grabbed a corner of the dust sheet and rolled it up carefully:
"But I know that this motorcycle is Shiho's favorite..."
The dust cloth was lifted, revealing the silver-black color underneath. The exhaust pipes were placed on both sides of the rear wheels, and the xenon headlights were polished to a shine. The whole thing looked like a cheetah crawling forward.
"Harley 883 series..."
Stroking the handle, Makoto Sakaki looked at the bear sticker on the fuel tank cap and said with deep emotion:
"She is really a loyal fan of Harley..."
"Um..."
"Maybe more like a teddy bear."
The Harley motorcycle in front of you is undoubtedly a wild beast, and it has even been modified.
Under the handle, Makoto Sakaki found a red button, but he didn't know what it was used for.
There is a helmet at the rear of the car.
The fuel tank is also full, it seems...
The freckled boy seemed to frequently hire someone to do maintenance.
He hung the tennis bag to one side and pushed the motorcycle out of the room. Sakaki Makoto sat on it and waited for the freckled boy to close the door. He then threw the helmet to him and patted the back seat:
"Come up."
The freckled boy got into the car, put his arms around Sakaki Makoto's waist, and asked nervously:
"Can you... ride a motorcycle..."
“This car is very loud...”
"Can you ride a motorcycle...?"
Sakaki was stunned.
This was the first time anyone had asked him something so obvious.
"My riding skills may not be as good as those of professional motorcyclists, but I am pretty good at it!"
He pushed his sunglasses down, inserted the key into the lock, and muttered:
"The upper limit of motorcycle control is high, but the lower limit is also low!"
Before he finished speaking, the Harley 883 under him started up with a roar. The headlights and dashboard lit up one by one, and the body of the car vibrated slightly. This beast that had been hibernating for a long time slowly opened its dark eyes at this moment.
"Um..."
After starting the car, Makoto Sakaki took the opportunity to check the car body while it was warming up.
After all, I haven't ridden it for 5 years, so there might be some problems.
"Don't worry, I'll call someone to come in for maintenance every month!"
The freckled boy wearing a slightly larger helmet said:
"I had to ask a locksmith to open the underground garage!"
"...You are trespassing, right?"
Shaking his head, Sakaki Makoto didn't dwell on this matter too much.
If the freckled boy had not regularly inspected it, this Harley 883 would have developed various problems after being parked for five years.
It will be a big hassle to repair it then...
"Hold on tight!"
After confirming that there was no problem, Sakaki took hold of the handle, retracted the support frame, and turned the throttle...
Woo!
The low roar of the engine echoed in the spacious underground parking lot, as sharp as thunder out of the blue.
The silver-black motorcycle rushed forward, turning into a flash of lightning, and followed by its taillights, heading straight for the circular exit.
As a high-end apartment, the underground parking lot has dedicated security guards, but...
The duty room is now empty.
Even the gear lever was raised.
The headlights cut through the eternal darkness, and the Harley 883 leaped forward and rushed out of the underground parking lot.
What comes into view is not the magnificent Seventh Avenue, but...
Demonic mobs and flames.
The freckled boy hugged Sakaki Makoto tightly, and listened to the gunshots and smashing sounds nearby, his eyes widened in surprise.
This is the first time this has happened in New York.
Even Manhattan has become a haven for thugs...
What about other districts?
The freckled boy didn't know that he was very scared now.
The shrill roar of the engine attracted the attention of the thugs on the roadside.
They stared at Sakaki Makoto and the freckled boy without much reaction.
But when they looked down and saw the Harley 883...
I couldn't suppress my excitement.
Due to local culture, luxury cars are sometimes not as attractive to thugs as motorcycles.
What they enjoy is the thrill of being free and speeding against the wind.
You can't experience this feeling by hiding in a piece of iron.
Bang!
They rushed to the middle of the road and fired warning shots into the air, trying to stop the seizure of Sakaki Makoto's Harley 883.
However...
Sakaki Makoto stared at them expressionlessly. Not only did he not slow down, he stepped on the accelerator to the bottom and the motorcycle leaped out!
The mob was angry.
Outnumbered, they cannot tolerate provocation.
So...
They all raised their pistols and pointed them at Harley 883.
Sakaki Makoto's eyes turned cold. He grasped the gun handle that protruded from the left tennis bag with his right hand and directly pulled out the Remington M870.
The cold gun barrel was coated with a layer of yellow under the illumination of the flame.
The drug entered the central nervous system, causing the thugs to almost lose their minds. They laughed and showed contempt for Sakaki Makoto. The next second...
boom!
The two people standing in the middle of them took a few steps back, blood spurting out from their chests, splashing all over their faces.
The warm touch on their faces extinguished their enthusiasm.
Looking at the corpse of a stranger companion...
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