Blood on the Asphalt biker
The digital billboard above us continued its loop, the silhouette of the Norton flickering like a bad omen against the backdrop of a synthetic sunset.
"Keep your head down, Ghost," Dax whispered, his hand resting on his knee, centimeters away from mine. He was dressed in a local mechanic’s jumpsuit, his tattoos hidden, his presence minimized. "If they run your biometrics at the gate, the game is over before the first take."