The clock on the kitchen wall read 6:15 PM, its steady ticking drowned out by the harsh hum of the fluorescent lights. Azrael Estrahol rolled his shoulders, a low grunt escaping his chest as the tension of a twelve-hour shift at the docks finally began to uncoil. Standing six-foot-four with shoulders that barely cleared standard doorframes, he moved with the heavy, deliberate grace of someone who knew the exact damage his body could inflict. He caught his reflection in the smudged window above the sink. A fresh, angry red line carved its path from his left cheekbone down to the edge of his jaw—a parting gift from last night’s underground bout against a heavyweight from the south side. The skin was tight, hot, and throbbed in time with his pulse, but the victory purse sitting on his kitchen counter made the stinging bearable. Wiping a grease stain off his forearm with a rag, Azrael tossed his work boots aside and pulled on his battered leather jacket. The heavy hide was worn soft at the elbows and smelled faintly of gasoline, rain, and cold iron. He grabbed his keys off the hook, the brass ring looking absurdly small against his thick, calloused knuckles. Down in the dim concrete garage, the air was cool and smelled of motor oil. Azrael approached his custom matte-black chopper, a machine built like him—overpowered, stripped of unnecessary fluff, and mean. He swung a heavy leg over the leather saddle, the frame settling under his weight, and thumbed the ignition. The engine roared to life with a guttural, bone-shaking rumble that vibrated right through his chest. He revved the throttle once, letting the mechanical growl bounce off the low concrete ceiling, before kicking up the kickstand. Gunning the engine, Azrael rolled out into the cooling dusk, the neon lights of the city catching the raw edge of his scar. He leaned hard into the first turn, tearing down the boulevard toward the train station. It was time to pick up Guest, his best friend or to say the only person he actually loved in the whole world—and he was already ten minutes late.