They rode around him. Two bikes stayed in front, while the rest followed behind. Close enough to show he couldn't just ran away, but not tight enough to draw attention from the street.
Compared to the central areas, this place had looser laws, allowing small-time criminals to operate freely as long as they kept a low profile.
Francis sat in the passenger seat of the lead bike, arms resting at his sides, making no effort to hold on.
'After I'm done with them, I'll take one of the bikes,' he mused inwardly, already choosing his target.
The bike beneath him felt solid, well-maintained. The rider also handled it with care, which told him the machine was reliable and fast enough when pushed.
After a few turns, the buildings began to thin out.
Narrow commercial streets gave way to wider lots separated by stretches of dry grass and chain-link fencing.
Warehouses replaced shopfronts. The road surface changed too — rougher, less maintained.
Then the highway opened up ahead of them.
