Chapter 33 - Slushy The Unicorn

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T H E A ' S P O V

My feet splashed threw puddles as I paced down the alleyway, and I thanked my past self for being psychic to know to keep my shoes on.

The black timberland- knockoffs- splashed the murky water up my ripped leggings covered shins but I honestly couldn't give a shit.

All that was going through my head was; don't kill someone. Don't kill someone. Don't kill someone.

Many noises were heard around me. Car horns blaring, the rare motorbike which I nearly stormed up to one, through the driver off and took off on it.

That's actually not a bad idea.

I had stormed to the more safe side of town in my little hurry. Not the place I was wanted to be right now.

When I saw a orange Kawasaki Ninja leaned against the wall off some building, I knew it had to be a fucking sign. From fate, Ghandi, my dead Grandmother. I honestly don't know who but I didn't really mind from who right now. I just handed hem for being on my side.

I mean seriously.

The exact same bike I have back in the land of the fields. Different colour but still.

The rider didn't even lock its body or neck so I had no bother getting it going.

Jacket and helmet left right on the seats.

I think I just died and went to heaven.

But of course they'll realise their brave mistake and sent me straight back to hell.

So there I was.

The borrowed Kawasaki Ninja flying down the streets that I had no clue where the fuck I was.

I somehow ended up on some motorway but I for sure as hell wasn't complaining.

I finally exited the motorway and pulled into its town.

I trailed slowly through the town. The now dark sky's moon shone brightly above me.

I pulled into a petrol station and filled the tank with some money I had found in the wallet inside the pocket of the jacket that belonged to some guy called 'Bud'.

Seems like a nice guy 'Bud' does. Has a nice taste in bikes.

He must be confident though. To own a widows-bike you have to be confident, but not cocky. Or else your fucked.

I left the bike at the petrol station and decided to have a walk around the dimly lit town.

I strolled through the roads, slurping my red slushy, until I heard cheering.

Now, given the time of night, well, Morning, the place where I am and the sound of the cheering. I'd have to guess that something illegal is going on. It drew me straight to it.

A fair sized crowed was formed around two men, fighting dirty with no shirts on, in the tarmac.

Now this was what I loved.

The fight soon ended and cheers flew in the air for the victor.

"Who wants a go?" His strong voiced boomed.

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