The biker lot was empty now—except for the lead biker and the boy sitting near a dying fire barrel.
The tiny motorcycle sat between them.
No one spoke for a long time.Finally, the biker removed his sunglasses.
His eyes were not angry.
They were broken.
“M.R.K…” he said quietly. “That man shouldn’t exist in my world anymore.”
The boy looked up.
“He’s my dad.”
The biker flinched.
A long pause.
Then he stood abruptly, pacing like the ground itself had turned unstable.
“Your father and I…” he stopped. Swallowed hard. “…we built everything together. Then I buried him. Or I thought I did.”
The boy’s voice cracked.
“You lied.”
The biker didn’t deny it.
Instead, he picked up the miniature motorcycle again.
On the underside, another detail caught the light—something he hadn’t noticed before.
A hidden compartment seam.
He pressed it.
Click.
A folded micro-film slid out.
The biker’s face went pale.
“What… is this?”
The boy leaned forward, confused.
“I didn’t know it was inside…”
The biker’s hands began to shake.
Because this wasn’t a toy.
It was a message.
And it wasn’t meant to be found until now.
A distant engine sound echoed on the road.
Getting closer.
Fast.
The biker looked up slowly.
“…They found us.”
The boy whispered:
“Who?”
The biker stared into the darkness.
And for the first time, fear entered his voice.
“The people who made your father disappear.”
