30/01/2025
Roads of Reckoning:
Episode 1: The Call of the Road
Introduction
The city was a prison of neon lights and honking horns, and Ethan Cruz had to break free.
Sitting astride Black Phantom, his custom Yamaha XSR900, he felt the engine’s pulse beneath him—like a caged beast hungry for the open road. The motorcycle was a masterpiece of power and precision, its deep midnight-blue fuel tank gleaming under the streetlights, the gold-accented front forks giving it a predatory stance. A high-performance Akrapovič exhaust system coiled along its side, ready to let out a roar that could shatter silence. The digital display flickered to life, illuminating the numbers that would soon blur into speed.
His helmet sat on the fuel tank, reflecting the chaos of Manila’s streets: a blur of headlights, restless pedestrians, and the endless hum of a life he no longer wanted.
His fists clenched the handlebars. The weight of his past was suffocating him—his girlfriend’s betrayal, the job he’d lost after a violent outburst, and the empty nights drowning in cheap liquor.
No more.
Ethan grabbed his helmet, slid it over his face, and twisted the throttle. Black Phantom snarled in response, tires screeching as he bolted onto the highway, leaving behind the city, his past, and everything that had chained him down.
This wasn’t just a ride.
This was an escape.
On the Road
The highway stretched before him, a dark river of asphalt cutting through the countryside. Black Phantom purred beneath him, its 847cc triple-cylinder engine humming with restrained power. He weaved through slow-moving trucks, the wind slicing against his leather jacket, the world a blur of headlights and roadside shadows.
By the time he reached Batangas, the morning sun had begun its slow rise, bathing the road in fiery gold. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday.
He pulled up to a roadside carinderia, dust swirling around the tires as he killed the engine. The smell of grilled fish and garlic rice filled the humid air. As he stepped inside, helmet tucked under his arm, an old man sitting at the corner table locked eyes with him.
The man was wiry, his skin like weathered leather. He wore a faded motorcycle vest over a tattered black shirt, a cup of coffee steaming in front of him.
"First time riding alone?" the man asked, his voice rough, like someone who had spent years screaming into the wind.
Ethan hesitated, then sat across from him. "Yeah. Just needed to get away."
The old man chuckled, stirring his coffee. "The road doesn't let you run, son. It makes you face what you're running from." He took a slow sip. "Watch yourself out there. Some rides don’t have a way back."
Ethan smirked. "Sounds like a challenge."
The old man didn’t smile. "It’s a warning."
The First Chase
By late afternoon, Ethan reached the Batangas port, ready to board the RORO ferry to Mindoro. Black Phantom rumbled beneath him as he rolled into the waiting area, scanning the crowd.
That’s when he heard it—hurried footsteps, a muffled yell, and the unmistakable sound of a struggle.
A man in a black jacket burst out from between two parked trucks, blood trickling from a fresh cut on his brow. Behind him, two men followed—silent, efficient, and armed with knives that glinted under the sun.
Ethan’s pulse spiked.
The injured man locked eyes with him, desperation flashing across his face.
"Get on!" Ethan barked, kicking Black Phantom into gear.
The man didn’t hesitate. He vaulted onto the back just as Ethan twisted the throttle. The rear wheel screeched, spitting gravel as the bike shot forward. The pursuers reacted fast, lunging at them, but Ethan swerved hard, his knee nearly scraping the ground as he cut through the crowded port.
They wove through honking cars, past shouting vendors, and down a narrow alley between warehouses. Black Phantom’s engine snarled, its powerful torque launching them forward. A glance in the mirror—damn. The men were still following, one of them now on a black Kawasaki, the other sprinting along the alley, knife glinting.
"Hold on!" Ethan growled.
He downshifted, revved high, then popped the clutch—sending Black Phantom into a wheelie just as they reached a wooden ramp leading to an unfinished dock. For a split second, they were airborne, the salty sea wind whipping past them. Then—impact. Tires met pavement, suspension compressing hard as they landed on the ferry’s loading dock.
A loud clang echoed as the ship’s ramp began to rise.
Ethan skidded to a stop, watching as their pursuers slammed to a halt at the edge of the dock—too late to follow. One of them hurled his knife, but it clattered harmlessly onto the metal surface as the ferry pulled away.
A Cryptic Message
Ethan let out a breath, his heart still hammering. The man behind him slid off, rubbing his bruised ribs.
"That was insane," he panted, then reached into his pocket. "Here. You earned this."
Before Ethan could react, the man slipped a folded piece of paper into his jacket pocket and disappeared into the ferry crowd.
Frowning, Ethan pulled it out. Unfolded it.
Scrawled in hurried ink were the words:
"If you're looking for answers, go to the lighthouse in Puerto Galera. But be warned—some truths are better left unknown."
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
This was supposed to be just a ride. Just him and the road.
But now—now he was caught in something bigger.
Black Phantom growled softly beneath him, as if urging him forward.
He gripped the handlebars, looking at the distant horizon.
Wherever this road led, he was ready.
To be continued…
Escape to serenity with "Wander and Unwind" - your guide to relaxing getaways & tranquil destination.
Escape to serenity with "Wander and Unwind" - your guide to relaxing getaways & tranquil destination.
