Phantom Black Car Novels & Stories

Totally blank. He sat on the bench looking around. Nothing out of place, until he took notice of a black car parked a few metres away. Number plate JS1234. John took out his cellphone and called Alex," there is a black Mercedes parked a few meters down the road from where I am, JS1234.........", Before John could say anything else he was cut off by Alex " Master thatbis one of the companies vehicles but they are not part of our clan, you need to lose them before you come here. D0 not get followed at any cost".

“What are you being in a daze for?” In desperation, the black man yelled again, but the driver had yet to regain his senses. His pupils dilated as panic filled his eyes. He shot the black man a frightened gaze, because Phantom Dragon was now making his way over with the knife. By then, the black man noticed Phantom Dragon through the rearview mirror. He was breaking down. He had completely broken down. He simply opened the car door and fired three shots at Phantom Dragon. Yet, Phantom Dragon dodged all three shots. It was like a scene straight out of a movie like The Matrix.

The bodyguard stopped in front of a sleek black car. A black Rolls-Royce Phantom gleamed under the city lights, its silk interior glowing like a midnight sky. The 21-inch wheels looked as though they barely touched the ground, the luxury beast humming with a whisper-quiet V12 engine. It was elegance in motion, the kind that didn’t need attention to command it. “We’re here, ma’am,” he said, pulling the door open. My heart skipped as the door swung wide. Inside the car, Adrian Wolfe sat comfortably, one hand resting on his knee, the other scrolling through his phone. The dim interior light traced his sharp jawline, making him look every bit as powerful as he felt.

---District A,Airport Region,Aurora City--- A convoy of black cars drove swiftly on the road,speeding at a shocking speed across the highway. Passersby were shocked by the sudden outburst of speed showcased by this black cars. The lineup of this convoy was extravagant:Five Rolls-Royce,each of the latest model;Two 2020 Rolls Royce phantoms,Two 2020 Rolls Royce wraith and one 2021 Rolls Royce Ghost.

"Thank you. Who is it? Should I look for a specific car?" "You'll know it. It’s the car that probably costs more than our parents' house. Black Mercedes-AMG G 63. Just get in, okay? I gotta go, Coach is—babe, stop—I gotta go!" The line went dead. I tucked my phone away and hugged my bag tighter. Five minutes. I could survive five minutes of shivering if it meant a heater and a ride. I stared out into the sheet of grey, watching the way the streetlights reflected in the growing puddles. A pair of headlights cut through the gloom, turning the rain into falling diamonds. A sleek, matte-black car rolled up to the curb. It was a beast of a vehicle and looking entirely too clean for a night like t

She continued, her voice dropping slightly as if sharing a secret. “You see that car out front? The black one? It’s been parked there for almost ten minutes. Not a soul from the building got in or out of it. And the men standing next to it…” She shivered. “Big guys with tattoos. The kind of people who make a woman clutch her purse and cross the street.” I frowned. My pulse quickened before I could stop it. “What kind of car?” She shrugged. “Fancy. One of those expensive ones with tinted windows. Looks like it belongs in a movie about drug lords.”

Up ahead, blacked-out million-dollar trucks glided out of a narrow, tree-flanked driveway that cut across the road. One by one, the machines pulled forward, and then what looks like that last car slid out. It had no license plate in the front, just a slab of polished black steel that looked like it had eaten smaller cars for breakfast. The black was so pure it swallowed the streetlamp’s red and white glow, headlights, neon streaks, all of it hovering on its surface like reflections trapped in obsidian glass. “Jesus,” Niya gushed, but her voice nearly drowned by the sudden quiet that followed the car's exit.

The next day, I discharged myself from the hospital. Standing across the bustling street outside the hospital’s skyscraper, my eyes squinted at the burning sun. For thirty minutes, not a single taxi stopped. Then, suddenly, a convoy of black luxury cars swept onto the street, instantly drawing everyone’s attention. The leading car was a black Rolls-Royce Phantom, its polished exterior gleaming under the afternoon sun. It stopped in front of me. And a soft sigh escaped me as the driver came out and opened the back door, revealing a young man inside.

To go against his order would be death, that much I know for here, at Crescent Moon High, his word is law. We reach the now-empty parking lot where a lone black-coloured Bugatti Chiron is parked. Blake opens the door to the driver’s seat and hops in without even so much as giving me a glance. The engine soon comes to life and roars as I stand at the sideline, twisting my fingers into knots.