The night air was cool, crisp, but far from clean. The air was never clean in Tokyo, especially not as high up as they were. It smelled like car exhaust and industry, coupled with the weird odor of heated plastic, courtesy of the brilliant cyan tube lights laced throughout the park. However, the people on the street didn't seem to mind. They walked back and forth like hamsters in a cage, stopping occasionally to shoot the shit or tie their shoes.

The fact that they were so calm was Khalid's first sign that something was amiss. If somebody was here trying to start shit with the Immortals, they should have been screaming about phantom injuries, shaking their fists in the air, and standing there indignantly while wondering what was wrong with young people today. The mere sight of somebody on wheels should have sent them into an utter frenzy, but here they were...

... Just... fine and dandy.

When Sabola and Odji stepped out behind him, they seemed equally perplexed. Perhaps not as confused as Ishaq, however, who stumbled out of the restaurant, panting. He looked around wordlessly, gasping for air, though his heaving eventually tapered off into something much quieter. There was a moment of silence as he straightened his posture and jerked his head from right to left, to right again.

"What the fuck?" he finally squalled. "Where are the Doom Riders? There's nobody here!"

"Not unless they're up on the scrapers or at the observatory," Sabola mumbled with a shake of his head, "but if somebody was aiming to mess with us, why would they do it someplace where we couldn't see?"

"Chickenshits," Odji growled. "And here I was getting all excited about a fight."

"Maybe we should split up and check the scrapers."

"Maybe we should just go back inside and finish our fuckin' dinner."

"Not a good idea," Ishaq nervously chuckled, holding up his now bare wrist. "They don't like gold as a payment, and you left before footin' the bill."

"It was an emergency, okay?" Odji barked. "Geez, you're a whiny fuck."

The two began to squabble, Odji being unnecessarily abrasive and poor Ishaq stuck attempting to talk him back down to Earth. Sabola intervened yet again, trying desperately to force a chill pill down their throats so that they didn't attract attention to themselves. Khalid simply ignored them, huffing and leaning against the sandstone pillar that held up Inpu's giant head, gazing up from where he stood to the looming buildings above them.

He could see traces of Sabola's cover-up graffiti on billboards and walls, and a little of Odji's handiwork on the hotel across the square from where he stood. The obelisks were untouched, the glowing pyramids tarnished only by the Immortal's own tags, and nobody around him looked particularly suspicious. However, DJ K reported it, and it wasn't like he was psychic. Perhaps Ishaq misheard, or perhaps the offenders were in another sect of Benten that was under their control.

"You implied when you broke me out that you guys hadn't tried to clean up Dinosaurian yet, yeah?" he asked slowly. Sabola turned from holding Odji away from Ishaq, Odji using his newfound freedom to tackle the rookie. Sniffing, Sabola crossed his arms over his chest and replied, "Yeah, we haven't even bothered. We're kind of putting it off. Nobody wants to be responsible for reclaiming that place."

"And Highway Zero?"

"We haven't even finished here yet, so we haven't started on Zero, no."

Khalid sighed and looked away, up to the overpass. If it was the Doom Riders, there would be no need for them to go anywhere but Pharaoh Park, not if Sky Dinosaurian and Highway Zero were still plastered with their signatures. That is, not unless they were either stupidly persistent or persistently stupid. He combed his fingers into his hair and let out a deep sigh, turning up to the skyscrapers and observatory yet again: no sparks, no sign of somebody boosting across a gap, not even the sound of somebody hollering like a heathen. It was dead, empty. Perhaps the Doom Riders were stupidly persistent after all.

"Ugh, forget it!" Odji growled, turning loose of Ishaq and raising his hands into the air in surrender. "Let's just go back to HQ, forget this shit happened, and check for damage tomorrow. I am tired. I am pissed off. I wanna punch things. It is not good for me to be here right now."

"I'm with him," Ishaq mumbled, rubbing a now-bruised jaw. Khalid exhaled deeply and slowly nodded; he was tired and angry, too, and all he wanted to do now that he had eaten his fill was pass out. No sooner had he opened his mouth to dismiss his boys, however, did he hear the faint clicking of skates on stone. Jaw still hanging open, he slowly turned back up to the overpass, watching as a set of squat, shadowy figures ripped in from the direction of 99th Street.

Ishaq's eyes grew wide with worry, Odji grinning as he snickered, "Well, whadya know? They were just late."

"But how?" Sabola breathily mumbled, eyes wide in shock. "DJ K reported it already."

"Maybe he just knew what direction they were headed in, or the Doom Riders were bragging about it beforehand," Khalid snarled. "Either way, I'm gonna tear them to shreds."

His exhaustion was forgotten, replaced with rage as he watched three of them file in, stepping between the obelisks at the entrance and then launching themselves down onto the illuminated walkway leading to the square. The closer they got, the easier it was to make them out: pudgy fellows in too-tight leather, with blinding yellow accents and tacky flame print shooting up their jackets. The visors of their helmets were lowered, obscuring their faces, but he could see the eyes of the leader as he glided in: cold, almost lifeless.

Bystanders screamed as they screeched to a halt, sparks spraying from the ground. A woman in white capris almost tumbled over the edge, saved by a peculiarly-dressed man in a top hat who pulled her back toward the middle. A teenager dropped her cell phone and let out the most obnoxious scream Khalid had ever heard, earning her a violent toss from a slightly thinner Doom Rider standing at the leader's side.

"Son of a bitch," Ishaq growled, frozen in terror. "I ain't seen those dudes in person since the Rhinos."

"And you're never gonna see 'em again after this," Khalid rumbled, face contorted into a look of pure hate as he clenched his fists, glaring at the leader who surveyed the park like he owned it. It was infuriating to see a guy he didn't even know stroll in so nonchalantly and just give off the vibe that this place was his. Khalid was the Pharaoh, and he wasn't going to let some tub-of-lard waltz in and change that.

Sabola recognized the look on his face but, yet again, was far too slow to catch him. For as weak as he had been, their boss was now a seething mass of adrenaline and hate, moving so quick that the Doom Riders had no idea that he was coming until a fist landed in the gut of the first one he grabbed. The poor bastard was sent flying back from the force, though he hardly seemed to react to it. Instead, he looked up and let out a weird bellow, before lunging forward to snag his attacker.

Khalid dodged out of the way, staggering as it dawned on him that he probably wasn't in the best condition to fight. That didn't stop him from taking a swing at their leader, his knuckles connecting with a satisfying crunch as he landed a blow on what bit of his face was exposed. He could see blood trickle from the surprisingly unresponsive leader's mouth, just before he caught a glimpse of his gloved fist. It came toward him so fast that Khalid knew he couldn't dodge it...

... Then he felt something pull him backwards. It stopped a mere inch from his nose, him turning back to see Ishaq, wild-eyed and panting, gazing up at the Doom Riders with so much fear that one would imagine he was facing the zombie apocalypse. One of the subordinate Riders lashed out toward him with a terrifying cackle, Ishaq flailing and falling backwards as Odji sprang forth.

For as short and scrawny as Odji was, he had the spirit of a badger with rabies. The rival Rudy had no idea what to think when a bald, heavily tattooed runt sailed through the air at him, hands up like a pouncing tiger while screaming like a banshee. He threw all of his weight onto the guy, taking him down to his back and laying on him with punch after punch until his knuckles bled. Aside from a few "oofs" and the sound of cracking plastic, there was really no reaction from Odji's prey.

Rather than be disturbed by that, he just took it as a challenge. He was not going to stop until the Doom Rider screamed.

Khalid turned and helped Ishaq to his feet, just as he felt something grab a hold of his shoulder and pull him back. This time, it wasn't any of his boys, but the first Doom Rider he had laid into. The snarling face of the biker was almost completely darkened behind his tinted visor, though he could hear a strange growl gurgling from the back of the man's throat. Khalid answered his growl with his own roar, raising up his foot and planting it directly into the dude's groin, throwing off his own balance though he successfully managed to pull out of his opponent's grasp.

Before the fight could continue, Sabola finally overcame his shock and entered the fray, the sound of a shaking aerosol can filling the air. He jumped between Khalid and the Doom Rider who seemed to have it out for him, holding up a can of golden paint and cackling, "Come on, asshole. I dare you to touch the Pharaoh again!"

His dare was answered when the leader grabbed him. His shriek of alarm distracted Odji long enough for his victim to kick him off, staggering to his feet and returning to his boss' side. Ishaq only screamed along with Sabola as his paint clattered to the ground, Khalid standing motionlessly in terror as the can rolled to his feet.

Sabola kicked and flailed as bystanders watched in horror, the Immortal thrashing as the Riders' boss tightened his grip around his throat. He choked out an idle threat and dug his nails into the guy's arm, though they were not long or sharp enough to be felt through his thick leather jacket. He seemed to grow weaker and weaker with each second that ticked by, suffocating in the iron fist of the invaders' boss.

Khalid couldn't take it. Reaching down and scooping up the aerosol can, he lunged forth and stuck the actuator up under the rival's visor. He didn't even give a warning before he let loose with a burst of paint, the Doom Rider letting Sabola fall and staggering back with a squall.

There were no orders given, no words exchanged. The leader turned tail and, as quickly as they came, they were gone. Sabola gasped for air on the ground, watching them as they sped away, the leader somehow knowing which way to go despite being blinded. Ishaq shuddered, and Odji responded to the whole incident by grumbling that they were a bunch of cowards.

Khalid looked down at Sabola, then at the paint in his hand, and then let out a deep, shaking, angry breath. As silently as his rival had departed, so did he, tearing toward the overpass and taking chase after them.

Odji's shoulders slumped as he looked at Ishaq for an explanation. Ishaq just stood, jaw agape, mumbling, "Dude's crazy."

"That's our Pharaoh, numb nuts. Don't talk about him like that."

"He's our Pharaoh, and he's crazy. D-did you see those guys? They didn't even feel us hittin' 'em."

"We hit 'em. You did nothing."

"I saved our crazy-ass Pharaoh from a broken nose."

Sabola shakily rose from the ground with a hiss of pain, watching as Khalid turned the corner and disappeared in the direction of 99th Street. He had known the guy for years, so he knew he wasn't to be surprised by such a rash decision. It was the same kind of choice that got them tangled up with the Golden Rhinos, something he did not want to repeat again. Rubbing his throat, he turned to the younger Rudies, coughed, and finally croaked, "Let's go get our crazy-ass Pharaoh before he gets us all killed."

"See!" Ishaq snapped. "I told you he was crazy!"

"Ishaq?"

"Yeah, Sab?"

"Shut up."