Can you imagine my thrill? Every molecule of my being buzzed with excitement as I sat cocooned within Sublime's luxurious embrace. She wasn't just an automobile; she was a symphony of beauty, intellect, and strength crafted into the perfect machine. Every click of her controls, every smooth glide of her movement affirmed one thing—I adored her. She cared for me in ways no one else ever had, not even my so-called father, who had treated me more as an afterthought than a priority. It didn't matter anymore. I had forged my own path, a solitary road filled with resilience and self-discovery, and Sublime had been my loyal companion through it all.
"Take me to E29," I commanded, my voice steady yet tinged with anticipation. The instruction flowed in a language of my own creation, a dialect I had trained Sublime to recognize. It was a safeguard, a way to ensure that only I could communicate with her.
"As you wish," Sublime replied, her voice rich and smooth, every syllable a stroke to my ego. She wasn't just responding—she was acknowledging my command, elevating my egocentric nature to dizzying heights. Sublime wasn't just a car; she was royalty, an extension of my identity, my fortress on wheels.
I can't help but repeat this every time: I loved her. I loved everything about her, from the purr of her engine to the precision of her responses. She didn't just make life convenient—she made it extraordinary. And yet, beneath the thrill of her sophistication, a shadow lingered. My thoughts darkened as I remembered why I was here, gliding through an underground tunnel toward another sanctuary.
My family. That word felt wrong on my tongue, a bitter pill I could never swallow. They wanted me dead. Was their wealth insufficient, or was it greed that drove them to this madness? Maybe it wasn't about the money at all. Perhaps it was about the scroll—the sacred family relic entrusted to me by my mother, the one true guardian of our legacy. That thought hit me like a cold wind. They weren't just coming for me—they were coming for the one piece of my mother I had left.
The scroll wasn't merely an object. It was history incarnate, passed down through generations like a flame guarded against the elements. For over a thousand years, it had been transferred from one heir to the next, an unbroken chain that had now ended with me. The gravity of being the final link in that chain struck me hard.
I longed for an heir of my own, someone to carry my legacy forward. "I need an identity," I whispered aloud, my voice trembling with a mix of longing and frustration. "A signature. My blood. My photocopy." My voice rose, echoing through the confined space. "Who will take over this mantle in my safebox?"
I laughed bitterly, realizing the melodrama in my words. It wasn't a mantle—it was a scroll. Just a scroll. But the weight it carried couldn't be dismissed, and neither could my responsibility. Without someone to pass it to, the legacy would wither and die with me.
Sublime continued her silent vigil, her engine humming like a lullaby that soothed my restless mind. Yet even her calming presence couldn't erase the urgency building within me. The battle had begun, and I intended to win—but first, I needed to erase my trail.
I tapped on Sublime's touchscreen dashboard, activating a hidden compartment. A small shelf slid out, revealing a compact remote control. My fingers curled around it as a wry smile crept across my face. "Sublime," I mused aloud, "her name means beautiful."
I pressed the green button without hesitation. The explosion came almost instantly. My house—my sanctuary, my refuge—erupted in a blaze of fire and smoke, obliterating every trace of my existence there. The vibrations rumbled through the tunnel, shaking its concrete walls and sending tremors through Sublime's sturdy frame. The sound of the blast was a symphony to my ears, a booming overture signaling the start of a new act.
For a fleeting moment, I felt exhilaration—pure, unbridled satisfaction. I had outmaneuvered them again. My enemies would find nothing but ash and rubble. But as the adrenaline ebbed, the darker truths clawed their way to the surface.
They say the most dangerous enemy is the one closest to you. In my case, that enemy wasn't a distant figure or a shadowy stranger. It was my family. The very people who shared my bloodline had become the architects of my destruction. It was ironic, in a cruel, cosmic sense.
But running wasn't enough anymore. If they wouldn't stop hunting me, then I needed to become the hunter. My mind shifted, a predator's focus sharpening my resolve. I would rewrite this narrative, bend it to my will. I would face them head-on, no matter what it took.
When Sublime reached E29, I was greeted by the familiar symmetry of another underground haven. Its layout mirrored the one I had just destroyed, but the sameness brought no comfort. I parked Sublime in the exact same spot, a habit born of routine. But the sense of security I had once felt in these sanctuaries was gone, replaced by an unsettling vulnerability.
As I stepped out of Sublime, I muttered to myself, "They aren't family. Family doesn't hunt you down like prey." My mother had taught me the true meaning of family: loyalty, love, and sacrifice. These people—my so-called relatives—knew nothing of those values. Blood may have connected us, but it no longer bound us. They had severed that tie with their greed and betrayal.
Sublime's headlights illuminated the path to the pillar switch. The darkness pressed against me, oppressive and smothering, but the light guided me. My fingers brushed the red button, and the elevator floor began to descend.
My heart sank as the scene unfolded before me. Chaos. Destruction. The space mirrored the state of the house I had just obliterated. They had found this sanctuary too, infiltrated it, defiled it. My chest tightened with anger so raw it threatened to consume me.
"I hate you bastards!" I screamed, my voice breaking as it echoed through the chamber. My fists clenched, my knuckles turning white as I trembled with rage. The fury was so intense I could feel it in my very being—taste the sharp metallic tang of blood in my nostrils.
For a moment, clarity pierced through the haze. I realized the irony of my words. I was the bastard, not them. The illegitimate child. The unwanted one. My siblings, my father's favored children, had been gifted everything, yet their greed remained insatiable. They wanted it all—including my life.
As I sent the elevator back to its original position, I turned to my red Lamborghini Urus, my second love, my "Easter." She was a symbol of my rebirth, a reminder that even in my darkest moments, there was a way forward.
"What should I do for you?" her soft AI voice asked as I climbed into the driver's seat.
"Take me to E79," I replied, my tone steady but edged with weariness.
"Sure. That will be my greatest pleasure," Easter said, her voice a melody that calmed my fraying nerves.
As Easter carried me through the darkness, I felt the weight of my journey ahead. My family wasn't just my enemy—they were my shadow, relentless and inescapable. But I had resolved to rewrite this story. And I wouldn't stop until I turned the final page.
When I arrived at E79, my elevator led me to my office—intact, untouched. Relief washed over me. But as I stepped into the adjoining space, the flickering ambient lights of the Skyblue Nightclub greeted me. The air pulsed with energy, the promise of a different kind of night ahead.
For the first time in what felt like ages, I allowed myself to smile. The game wasn't over. But this night, it was mine.