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London 1976

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July 17 1976, London - Midnight

The background chatter and music from the nearby bustling club scene was violently torn apart before being drowned out by the bike ripping through the quiet street. It wavered slightly but was travelling too fast for that to make any difference. The bike itself was nearly invisible in the overwhelming darkness, the only clues as to its existence being its brief appearances hurtling beneath the few working streetlights and of course the explosion of sound that followed it. It was towards one of these working streetlights that the bike sped, seemingly unaware of the solidity of its target. The front wheel of the bike shook as the streetlight rapidly approached. Destruction seemed inevitable but in the instant before brutal impact a sickly green light appeared and cushioned the blow for the bike, which nevertheless fell and skidded to a stop on its side. Two shadowy forms spilled out, coming to rest spreadeagled on the course asphalt.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR?” A figure shouted from where he lay on the ground. Groans were the only answer.
“HELLO? Hello? ...ahh fuck” Reluctantly he pulled himself to his elbows and dragged himself over the rough asphalt, a slightly concerned frown on his face. He loomed over the sprawled figure and spoke in a slightly gentler tone.

“Ethan, you alright? Not hurt are you?” He asked putting his hand on a cold cheek. Ethan opened his eyes and smiled.

“Nah, not a scratch.” His smile disappeared however when he was then slapped very hard in the face.

“THEN FUCKING TELL ME WHAT THE HELL THAT WAS!”

“What what was?” Ethan sat up slowly and rubbed his hand sulkily over his stinging cheek. “Saving our lives, you mean?”

“I had the bloody bike under control. It was your bloody magic that tripped me up. We would’ve been fine if you’d just left it the fuck alone.” He began to stand, Ethan following him. He threw his hands in the air as an apologetic gesture.

“Oh I’m sorry for- oh wait no I’m not, you fuckin’ wanker.” His submissive pose vanished as he indignantly cradled his now, rather sore cheek. He stiffened as a dangerous voice sounded beside him.

“What was that?”

“What?”

Ripper cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. “What did you fuckin’ say?”

“Nothin,’” Ethan looked around with wary eyes, and a smile playing at his lips.

“You’re gonna pay for that, come ere!” Ethan immediately sprinted away as Ripper lunged, circling around him and zig-zagging to the other side of the street.

Ethan shoes thumped against the pavement as he dodged streetlights and hydrants. “No! I’m sorry, Ripper! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it! Where are the others? Fuck!”. Ripper followed his every step, angry expression not enough to counteract his laughter. Ethan kicked off from a brick wall, which Ripper only narrowly avoided slamming into. When he turned around he found himself at a stand-off around the fallen motorbike, grins cemented on their breathless faces.

Ripper lifted his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
“Alright, alright I s’pose I’ll let you off this ti-“ He abruptly lunged across the motorbike and tackled Ethan to the ground. He straddled Ethan triumphantly as the latter attempted to regain his breath.

“Wh..Why do all our conversations have to end like this?” Ethan wheezed.

“I think it’s because of your terrible negotiation skills.” Ripper smirked and squeezed Ethan's sides with his knees before standing up.

He winked in what he clearly thought was a develish fashion before sauntering off to examine the bike. “The bloody thing's buggered." He shivered suddenly and found himself examining the street they had entered from. "I hope we didn’t lose the others, be a nightmare tryin’ to find them in this dark.”

Ethan tried to respond and was halfway to sitting up when he was stopped by a sudden stabbing pain through his chest. “Fuck me!” he exclaimed quickly lying back down.

 

A gravelly voice at the end of the street answered him. “Well with such an enticing offer, how could I refuse?”