“Pay close attention,” Apocalypse said, looking like he was in a trance. All of his attention was focused on the youngsta wearing the Mohawk. The man’s heart thudded and his chest rose and fell, as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He mashed the gas pedal further and the hand on the speedometer spun around past the numbers hastily. The Regal was speeding so fast down the residential street that the cars lined up on the block looked like flashes of colors.
The kid wearing the Mohawk had just bent down to pick up the soccer ball. At that moment, Apocalypse activated the headlights. They popped on brightly and blinded the young man, making him narrow his eyelids and place his hand over his brows. He was trying to see exactly who or what it was speeding toward him.
Antonio’s head
