-William D. Karthax, NIGHT Inquisitor General After some initial skepticism on my part, we ate some of Lucky Snake’s surprisingly edible tavern food and returned to collect our truck, which sat alone in the empty parking lot. The evening had deepened into another warm night, a light breeze drifting from the Bay to ruffle my short hair and overcoat. I felt a pang of jealousy when Doubleshot rode up on her modded hog. Of a classic design, it had all of the bells and whistles of a modern motorcycle with the same deafening sound that had been popular at the turn of the century. It made me miss my cruiser. “It’s a straight shot on the 80 once we get out of Oakland,” she explained, pulling up to Alina’s driver side window. The dwarf had replaced her large hat for a simple reinforced helmet and kerchief that covered most of her face. “We’ll stop in Mystic before crossing the border.” Alina nodded, clarifying with Tribe some ground rules about whose music was allowed to be played while driving, and then followed Vasshka through the harbor district and onto the freeway.
