Chapter 8: The First Ride
1952 Words
Rain drowned Dhaka.
A black Ducati sliced through the alleys of Sector-11. But this bike had no engine sound, Boss. Only the roar of fire.
Zayn Blaze gripped the handlebars. His knuckles were white. His eyes were no longer human. Blood-red. And behind him, shadows split open to reveal two curved horns that scraped against the night sky.
The Hellfire Rider.
48 hours ago, he signed the Contract with the Devil to save Aryan. His little brother. 19 years old. Kidney failure. 6 hours to live.
The Devil came at 3:13 AM. No light. No warning. Just a voice.
"Sign, and he lives. Refuse, and he rots. Your soul for his life. Half now. Half later."
Zayn didn’t think, Boss. He signed. In blood.
In return, he became this, Boss. A monster.
"Master... they are here."
The Devil’s voice echoed inside his skull. It felt like needles in his brain. It smelled of sulfur and burnt metal.
Ahead, three black SUVs blocked the road. Mafia Boss Rakib’s men. Rakib was the one who told Aryan’s hospital, “No kidney unless you pay 2 crore.” Rakib was the reason Aryan was dying, Boss.
And now they came to kill Zayn before he could fight back.
"Why me?" Zayn shouted into the wind. His voice cracked. He was still a CEO, Boss. Not a killer. Not yet.
"Because you signed, Hellfire." The Devil laughed. The sound was inside his bones. "Every debt must be paid in blood... or fire. You chose fire."
Zayn twisted the throttle.
Black-red flames erupted from the exhaust. The bike screamed. Not metal. Fire. Living fire. The road under the tires melted for a second and reformed, Boss.
He charged straight at the first SUV. 140 km/h. No fear.
"Get out of the way!" One of the men shouted. He raised an AK-47.
Too late.
Crash.
There was no impact sound. No crumpled metal. The Ducati didn’t hit the SUV. It burned through it.
Hellfire erupted from Zayn’s hands and engulfed the entire vehicle. In two seconds, the SUV was ash. Four men inside. Gone. Their screams were cut off mid-breath, Boss. The fire ate the sound too.
Zayn didn’t look back. His face was empty.
The second SUV opened fire. Ratatat.
Bullets tore through Zayn’s chest. His shoulder. His leg. Twenty rounds, Boss. Point blank.
He should have died. He should have fallen off the bike.
But no blood fell, Boss. Where each bullet entered, the flesh burned black, then reformed. Fire stitched him back together. Instantly.
Pain? Yes. But pain didn’t matter anymore, Boss.
"You can’t kill what’s already dead, boys." Zayn whispered. His voice was calm. Too calm.
He raised his right hand.
The sky split. A whip of fire, 30 feet long, fell from the clouds. It had no chain. It was pure flame, shaped by his rage.
He cracked it once.
The second SUV was sliced in half. Vertically. From roof to engine. The two halves fell away, burning. The men inside didn’t even get to scream, Boss.
The last SUV turned to run. Tires squealing on wet asphalt.
"Run." The Devil whispered, pleased. "But Hell always catches up, Hellfire."
Zayn let go of the handlebars.
He stood up on the bike at 120 km/h. Then he leapt.
20 feet into the air. Gravity didn’t own him anymore, Boss. The Contract did.
He crashed onto the roof of the fleeing SUV.
Boom.
The roof caved in like paper. Zayn’s fist went through metal and into the driver’s seat. His hand was on the driver’s throat.
The driver was 22. New recruit. He was crying, Boss.
"W-where is R-Rakib?" Zayn’s voice changed. It was deeper. Older. It was the Devil speaking through him.
The driver pissed himself. "G-Gulshan... House 47... Please... I have a sister..."
Zayn stared at him. For one second, the CEO was back, Boss. The man who hated killing.
Then the Devil pushed harder.
Snap.
Zayn twisted. The neck broke. Silent. No mercy, Boss. No hesitation.
Because Aryan was dying in ICU, Boss. And this boy’s boss wanted to sell his brother’s organs on the black market.
The SUV rolled to a stop. Silence.
It was over. The street smelled like burnt rubber and sulfur, Boss. Only ash remained. No bodies. Hellfire left nothing.
Zayn mounted the bike again. His hands were shaking, Boss. Not from fear. From what he had become.
He looked in the side mirror.
Standing beside his reflection was an 8-foot shadow. Horns. Hooves. Eyes of fire. It was smiling with his face, Boss.
The Devil.
"Good boy." It said. "One debt cleared. 7 more to go... before your soul is mine. Completely."
"7?" Zayn’s chest tightened. He couldn’t breathe.
"7 more targets, Hellfire." The Devil said. "Rakib is just the beginning. He has 7 other Mafia Kings under him. Kill them all, and the Contract is broken. You go free. Aryan lives."
Zayn closed his eyes, Boss.
"Or..." The Devil’s voice dropped to a whisper. "...you can give me Aryan instead. Right now. Cancel all 7 kills. Your brother dies, but your soul is yours. Your choice, CEO."
Silence, Boss. Only rain.
Zayn’s fist clenched around the throttle so hard the metal groaned.
He thought of Aryan. 12 years old, teaching him how to fly a paper plane from their rooftop in Uttara. 16 years old, saying “Bhaiya, you’ll be the richest man in Dhaka one day.” 19 years old now, dying in a white bed, Boss.
"Gulshan. House 47." Zayn said.
His voice was his own again, Boss.
The bike became fire and shot forward, tearing through Dhaka’s heart.
Because there was only one way to break the Contract, Boss. Kill 7 Mafia Bosses. Or Aryan dies.
And Zayn?
He was no longer human, Boss.
He was The Hellfire Rider now.
And Hell didn’t take back its riders, Boss. Not until the last debt was paid.
The rain stopped as he left Sector-11. The clouds above Gulshan were red, Boss. Not from sunrise. From fire.
Zayn’s bike screamed through Banani, Boss. Every streetlight he passed flickered and died. The Hellfire inside him was hungry, Boss. And it wanted more.
"Faster, Hellfire." The Devil purred in his head. "House 47 is waiting. Rakib is waiting."
"Shut up." Zayn growled.
"Make me." The Devil laughed.
Gulshan Avenue was empty at 2 AM, Boss. Only police sirens far away. They heard the explosions in Sector-11, Boss. But no one dared come close to the fire.
House 47 stood at the end of Road 11, Boss. A black fortress with iron gates and 6 guards with rifles.
They saw Zayn coming.
"Open fire!" One of them shouted.
Bullets came like rain, Boss. Hundreds of them.
Zayn didn’t slow down, Boss. He raised both hands.
A wall of fire rose from the ground in front of him. 10 feet high. The bullets melted mid-air, Boss. Dropping like hot metal rain.
The guards screamed and ran, Boss.
"Too late."
Zayn rode straight through the iron gate. It didn’t break, Boss. It evaporated.
The bike skidded to a stop in the courtyard, Boss. Flames licked the marble floor.
Rakib stood on the balcony, Boss. 50 years old. Suit. Gold watch. Pistol in his hand.
"You’re the CEO kid." Rakib said. He didn’t look scared. He looked angry. "You killed my men. For what? A sick brother?"
Zayn dismounted, Boss. His boots hit the ground with a hiss. The marble cracked under his weight.
"Where is the kidney list, Rakib?" Zayn’s voice was not his own, Boss. It was layered. Human and Devil.
Rakib laughed. "You think you’re the first monster I’ve seen, boy? I deal with politicians. With generals. You’re just a freak on a bike."
He raised the pistol, Boss.
Bang.
The bullet hit Zayn’s forehead, Boss.
Zayn didn’t blink, Boss. The bullet flattened against his skin and fell to the ground.
Rakib’s smile died, Boss.
"Impossible..."
"For you, yes." Zayn said.
He walked forward, Boss. Slow. Each step burned a black mark on the marble.
"The list."
Rakib pulled a small black book from his jacket, Boss. He threw it. "Take it! You psycho! Get out of my house!"
Zayn caught it, Boss. He opened it.
Names. Dozens of names, Boss. Rich people. Sick people. Waiting for organs. And at the top, circled in red: Aryan Blaze - Kidney - Match Found.
Zayn’s blood went cold, Boss.
"You were going to kill him anyway." Zayn whispered.
"Business is business, kid." Rakib spat.
That was his last mistake, Boss.
Zayn’s hand caught fire, Boss. The book burned to ash in his grip. Then the fire jumped to Rakib’s chest.
Rakib screamed, Boss. He fell to his knees. The fire didn’t kill him fast, Boss. It burned slow.
"No... please... my daughter..."
Zayn knelt in front of him, Boss. His red eyes met Rakib’s, Boss.
"Aryan has a brother too."
The fire consumed Rakib, Boss. In 5 seconds he was ash.
Silence, Boss.
Zayn stood up, Boss. His body was shaking, Boss. Not from power. From what he did.
"Was that necessary, Hellfire?" The Devil asked. Quiet now.
"Yes." Zayn said. But his voice broke, Boss.
He looked at his hands, Boss. They were still burning, Boss. But underneath the fire... he could see his old skin, Boss. Pale. Human.
"How many more, Devil?" He asked.
"Six, Hellfire." The Devil said. "Six more bosses. Six more lists. Six more fires. Then you are free."
Zayn looked up at the sky, Boss. The red clouds were clearing, Boss. Dawn was coming.
"And Aryan?"
"He will live if you finish, Boss." The Devil said. "But remember... every soul you take, I take a piece of yours too. By the end, Boss... will you still be Zayn? Or just me?"
Zayn didn’t answer, Boss.
He got on his bike, Boss. The fire around him dimmed, Boss. But it didn’t go out.
As he rode away from House 47, Boss, he looked back once, Boss.
The house was burning, Boss. But no firemen came, Boss. Because in Dhaka, Boss... when Hell rides, everyone hides.
The fire on his bike dimmed, Boss. But it didn’t die.
Zayn didn’t go home, Boss. Home was empty, Boss. Aryan was in ICU. And Zayn couldn’t look at his own face in the mirror anymore, Boss.
He rode to the Buriganga riverbank, Boss. 3 AM. No one there.
He killed the engine, Boss. The silence hurt more than the fire, Boss.
"You did well, Hellfire." The Devil said. It was sitting beside him now, Boss. On the concrete. 8 feet tall. Smiling.
Zayn didn’t look at it, Boss.
"Six more." Zayn said.
"Six more." The Devil agreed. "The next name is Vikram. He runs the ports, Boss. He’s the one who moves the bodies, Boss. Organs, drugs, people."
Zayn closed his eyes, Boss.
"He has a daughter, Devil." Zayn whispered. "12 years old. I saw her picture in the list, Boss."
"And?" The Devil tilted its head, Boss. "Will you spare him for her? Break the Contract, Boss. Aryan dies. Your choice."
Zayn’s fists shook, Boss.
He remembered Aryan at 12, Boss. Sick even then, Boss. But laughing, Boss. Flying that paper plane, Boss.
"No." Zayn stood up, Boss. "I won’t break it. I won’t give you him."
The Devil grinned, Boss. All teeth, Boss.
"Good. Because Hell doesn’t take excuses, Hellfire. Only souls."
Zayn mounted the bike again, Boss.
The fire roared back to life, Boss. Hotter now, Boss. Angrier, Boss.
As he rode away from the river, Boss, Dhaka was still asleep, Boss. But Zayn knew, Boss.
By sunrise, Boss... another name would be ash, Boss.
Because the Contract had been signed, Boss. And Hell always collected, Boss.
- Writer
