Chapter 1 The Divided City.

  There are two sides to this city, one that gleams behind tall walls, watched over by guards and scanners, where the lights never flicker and every street feels safe. And then there's the other side, the rebel zone. A place the government calls "unruly territory," but the people who live there call it home. The roads cracked, the walls painted with murals of lost friends and broken promises, and every night the sound of engines echoes through the streets like thunder.

  That's where he rides, the one they call

  Night Rider.

  A ghost on two wheels, a shadow the cops can't catch. Some say he's fighting for freedom. Others say he's the city's biggest criminal. No one really knows which is true.

  Eli Mercer stood frozen in front of the central police station, staring up at its tall glass doors. His reflection looked small against them, his uniform crisp and new, the emblem of his father's division stitched neatly over his chest. He took a slow breath, trying to calm the nerves in his stomach.

  "This is it. Everything I've dreamed of since I was a kid... following in Dad's footsteps."

  The city around him buzzed, sirens echoing faintly in the distance, engines humming on the upper roads, screens on nearby buildings flickering with news about another rebel sighting. He adjusted his badge, straightened his tie, and reached for the door.

  But before he could open it, someone sprinted past him, a blur of movement and heavy breathing. The boy rushed through the hallway, head down, clutching a small duffel bag. For a split second, their eyes met, a quick flash of recognition. The boy had dark brown hair just brushing past his eyebrows, sweat on his face, and an expression that mixed panic with confidence.

  Then he was gone, disappearing down the hall.

  Eli blinked, his hand still on the door handle.

  "Who was that? He looked young.. maybe new like me. That's good. I'm not the only one starting fresh."

  The thought comforted him a little. He took one more breath and finally stepped inside.

  The central station wasn't exactly how he pictured it. He had imagined sharp uniforms, polished floors, and serious faces. Instead, it was a mix of chaos and routine, phones ringing, laughter echoing from one corner, and the smell of instant noodles mixing with cigarette smoke. The air felt heavy, lived-in.

  As Eli walked down the hall, he noticed a line of framed photographs on the wall, officers standing proudly beside patrol cars, medals gleaming, smiles wide. His eyes stopped at one photo. His father, Chief Mercer, stood tall, one hand on the shoulder of a young officer, the same proud smile Eli remembered from home. Seeing it made his chest tighten with pride... and a little pressure.

  "He made his way to the top. Now it's my turn."

  A gruff voice snapped him out of it. "You the new kid?"

  Eli turned. A tall officer with a rough face and a clipboard tucked under his arm eyed him up and down.

  "Uh, yeah," Eli said quickly.

  The man nodded once. "I'm Officer Rourke. Come on, I'll show you to your desk."

  Eli followed as Rourke led him through the busy station. "This here's the central division," Rourke said. "You'll be doing a bit of everything, filing reports, running errands, maybe tagging along with a partner if you're lucky."

  Eli nodded eagerly. "Got it."

  They stopped at a desk tucked between two stacks of boxes and a flickering light. "Here's your spot," Rourke said. "Don't mess with anything that doesn't have your name on it. You'll figure it out."

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  Before Eli could thank him, Rourke was already walking away.

  Eli looked around. The station buzzed with life, a few cops joked at the vending machine, one was half-asleep at his desk, and another leaned against the window smoking despite the no-smoking sign. He smiled faintly.

  "So this is what the 'heroic police force' looks like."

  Hours passed in a blur of reports and forms. By mid-afternoon, Eli rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "Man, that's exhausting," he muttered, stretching.

  He grabbed his lunch and headed toward the break room, but halfway there, something caught his attention, an open door at the end of the hallway. No lights on, no sound, just a faint draft pushing against the doorframe.

  Curiosity got the better of him. He looked around, no one was watching, and stepped inside.

  The air was cold and still. He flicked on the light switch, but the bulbs only buzzed weakly, casting pale streaks across rows of metal cabinets.

  "The file room," Eli realized.

  Eli walked slowly between the aisles, scanning the faded labels, Incidents, 2047-2050, Patrol Logs, Unresolved Cases... until one caught his eye.

  NIGHT RIDER.

  He frowned.

  "That's the name everyone has been talking about since I got here."

  He opened the cabinet. Inside was just one single folder. "That's it?" he whispered. "One file for the city's biggest criminal?"

  He pulled it out and flipped it open. A photo was stapled to the corner, grainy street cam image of a dark figure on a motorcycle, visor glowing under the streetlights. "That's one blurry picture," Eli said, leaning in. "You can't even see his body."

  He read on.

  'Night Rider is extremely dangerous. If spotted, do not engage. Officers are advised to call for backup immediately. Confrontation may result in severe injury or loss of pursuit.'

  Eli blinked. "He's that good? And on a motorcycle?" He couldn't help but grin a little. "I mean motorcycles are the rebels thing anyway, Kinda cool though..."

  A voice came from behind him. "What are you doing?"

  Eli jumped, slamming the folder shut and shoving it back into the cabinet. "Nothing!" he said too quickly.

  A figure stepped out of the shadows, arms in his pockets. "Yeah, sure. Nothing," the boy said, his tone calm but amused. The light caught his face, Dark brown hair, sharp eyes, and that same look Eli remembered from earlier.

  Eli pointed. "Wait, I saw you this morning! You ran past me."

  "Oh yeah," the boy said with a small grin. "Didn't want to be late on my first day."

  "Your first day?" Eli asked. "Same here."

  "Guess that makes us both the new guys," the boy said. "Name's Kai."

  "I'm Eli," Eli replied, shaking his hand.

  "So, what are you doing here?" Kai repeated.

  Kai glanced down, spotting the folder's label. "Night Rider, huh? Heard of him?"

  Eli rubbed his neck. "Kind of. Everyone's been talking about him. I just wanted to see what the big deal was."

  Kai smirked. "Oh, he's a big deal, all right. Some of the guys chased him last night, lasted seventeen seconds. New record."

  Eli blinked. "Is that a real record?"

  "Hell if I know. Probably, I just made that up." Kai shrugged. "But honestly, seventeen seconds against that guy is a miracle."

  Eli laughed. "So, what's his story?"

  Kai's eyes flickered to the door, his tone shifting slightly. "No one really knows. He just... appears. Hits where it hurts. Then vanishes before backup can even arrive. Some say he's a rebel hero. Others say he's just another thug with a bike."

  Eli tilted his head. "What do you think?"

  Kai smiled faintly, though his eyes didn't match the expression. "I think he's dangerous. And not the kind of person you want to associate yourself with."

  Eli sighed. "I wasn't planning on it. I was just bored. Been filing reports all day. Thought I'd do some detective work"

  Kai chuckled. "Welcome to the force. You'll get used to being bored."

  Eli grinned. "You don't sound very excited about the job either."

  "Just realistic," Kai said as they walked out together. "This place isn't all it's cracked up to be."

  The sun had already dipped when the city lights flickered on. Neon signs and traffic glow painted the skyline in color, stretching across the invisible wall that split the two sides.

  On a hill overlooking it all sat a lone figure, Night Rider himself. His bike idled quietly, the hum of its engine matching the wind's rhythm. His visor reflected the city lights, hiding the expression on his face

  He pulled something from his pocket, a small, worn metal chain, the kind that once hung around a friend's neck. His hand tightened around it.

  "When will we stop hurting each other..." he muttered. His voice was low. almost lost in the wind. "But it's you guys who keep me pushing forward."

  He looked down at the chain one last time, then tucked it away. The bike's engine roared to life, its light slicing through the dark as he sped down the hill, back toward his side of the city.

  Above him, the night sky stretched wide and endless, a silent witness to a war no one really understood.