The low roar of the motor fills the night air as the gunmetal cycle drives through the gates of the warehouse district before coming to a halt in front of one of the more run down warehouses. Taking a step off of his bike Night Fire removed his helmet revealing a smirk upon his face as his eyes made contact with the old building. Placing the helmet upon the bike he moved slowly reaching out to the door and opening it. To his surprise the scene still remained the same as it had been all that time ago, minus circle that once held an angel, the chains still hung from the ceiling even the stains from the blood that he had spilled during the fight with the cultist. He took a few steps in so he was just under the chains that once held a creature that before that day he really didn’t believe even existed.
The metal felt cold to his touch which only made the smirk on his face grow," This is where it all started," he muttered to himself as the memories of all that he had witnessed on his Journey with S.P.E.C.T.R.U.M. From the fight against the Dragon upon the moon to Being swindled by the god Odin. He released the cold links and placed his hand upon the green ring he wore as the memory of having the King of Clown’s right hand woman upon his bike firing rockets into the on coming Black Lanterns. Turning he moved back to his bike his eyes Falling upon the rocket engine Quicksilver helped set him up with when they built it which brought the heat he felt as he straddled the rocket into battle back at the L.A. Museum.
As he threw his leg over his bike straddling it he gripped his helmet as his eyes moved to the stars. If it wasn’t for them the world would have ended. Without them it would of been filled with the dead rising back from the grave. With these memories the Song he had heard only a few times refilled his mind," Wonder how Angel boy is doing down in hell," He thought as he put his helmet on," Knowing Drake probably giving him just tha…" his thoughts were interrupted by the screams of a woman maybe a few miles away. With a smile and a rev of his bike the Song was gone," Seems like there is no rest for the wicked, which means no rest for me," He laughed as his bike lurched forward back towards the great L.A. streets, “Hey L.A. I’m back and I’m here to clean you up once again,” with that the rumble of the bike slowly faded away just as he did from the lights of Seattle.