48 Yale Hotel

Deep in the dark places where no one cares to look, Warren felt like he belonged with the Laughing skulls. The roar of the engines and the camaraderie poke at his need to be accepted by other humans. He knew better, of course. The Laughing Skulls lived to spread their message of hate, and it made the teen sick to his stomach.

  Yale town had all the trappings of the modern world, skyscrapers, and Noveau architecture. Art galleries and quaint coffee shops. It was also the home to many warehouses. Warren expected their stop to be at a warehouse. However, the pack of riders slowed their mechanical steeds just outside the Yale Hotel.

  The black and red brick, with bright neon signs on the outside, seemed larger than life to Warren as he slowed the street bike and parked it on the opposite side of the street.

  "Warren, it's Theria. do you copy?" Concern owned the disembodied voice of Theria.

"I'm here. I can't talk for long. Zealot will be