Before Dawn

The car squatted behind a warehouse, its midnight-blue paint half-hidden beneath city grime. Travis leaned against the battered hood, the cold seeping through his leather jacket. His nerves hummed—too many jobs, too many faces—while the city vibrated with distant sirens and neon flicker. Kat stood ten feet away, arms folded, platinum hair sharp as a razor in the sodium light. They didn’t look at each other. They never did unless they had to. “Let’s get this over with,” Kat said, voice clipped. She tossed the keys, and Travis caught them, glancing down the alley. Their history was all wrong: jobs gone bad, accusations spat in back seats, grudges that never cooled. But Divano’s crew didn’t care. They needed a car returned by dawn, and the only two people who knew the route—and wouldn’t talk—were Travis and Kat. The city was half-asleep, rain slicking the streets. Travis slid into the driver’s seat, Kat taking shotgun without a word. The inside smelled of adrenaline and cheap aftershave. He twisted the key. The engine rumbled awake, the city’s pulse in his hands. “You know Divano’ll be waiting,” Kat said, watching his eyes in the rearview. “He never lets a favor go unpaid.” “Yeah,” Travis replied. “But he’s not the biggest problem tonight.” The route was a patchwork of memory: back alleys, service roads, shortcuts mapped in Bubby’s ledger. They passed beneath flickering billboards and over bridges where the air tasted of iron and ozone. Kat kept her gaze forward, but Travis caught her reflection—tension anchoring her shoulders. Halfway to the drop, a pair of headlights flared behind them. Kat stiffened. “That’s not Divano’s people.” Travis floored it. Tires shrieked. The city blurred, neon smearing the windows. In the mirror, shadows swelled: a black sedan giving chase, its occupants masked by rain and speed. Kat drew her pistol. They weaved through construction zones, skidding past late-night cabs. The sedan clung to their wake, relentless. Kat fired a warning shot, glass shattering. The city seemed to hold its breath. Suddenly, the sedan veered off. Two blocks later, Travis saw the trap—a barricade at the drop point, Divano’s men waiting with grins too sharp. Kat swore. “He set us up. He never wanted the car. He wanted us.” Options flickered through Travis’s mind—run, fight, or burn it all. Kat’s hand found the door handle. “We walk, or we don’t walk at all.” He killed the engine. Rain hammered the roof. They stepped out together, hands raised, defiance burning in their eyes. Divano emerged from the shadows, crimson tie gleaming, flanked by muscle. “Thought you’d double us, Divano?” Travis called, voice steady. Kat’s gun was cocked under her coat. Divano shrugged. “Business, friends. You two? Too clever for your own good.” Travis nodded. “Maybe. But the city’s bigger than you.” They backed away, slow, then broke into a run—ducking into a side alley. Gunfire cracked, but the city swallowed them whole. The car, their prize and their curse, was abandoned under the bleeding dawn. Later, slick with rain and breathless, Travis and Kat slumped against a brick wall. For a heartbeat, their old hatred softened to something like respect. “We’re square now?” Travis asked. Kat smirked. “Until the next job.” Behind them, the city woke up—hungry for another story.

Comic