DRIVER 88 (The Death Race Saga).

1. A Race to the Grave

The roar of engines shattered the silence as the Death Race began.

Jaxon's foot slammed the gas, and the Charger lurched forward like a hungry beast.

Ahead of him—chaos.

A muscle car veered left, slamming into spikes. The driver's scream was swallowed by a spray of blood.

A motorbike racer activated a side-mounted chainsaw, carving through another vehicle's tires.

Gunfire rattled the air—bullets bouncing off reinforced steel.

The track was hell itself—a winding stretch of death filled with booby traps, molten pits, and turrets controlled by the Warden.

Jaxon had two options.

Race smart.

Or die fast.

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2. Predators on the Track

The holographic HUD in Jaxon's car glowed red.

WARNING: LOCKED ON BY MISSILE SYSTEM.

He didn't have time to think—instinct took over.

Jaxon jerked the wheel, sending the Charger into a violent drift.

Behind him, a missile screamed past—detonating against the barricades.

Smoke and flames erupted, swallowing two racers in the explosion.

"Driver 88, you still breathing?"

The woman's voice crackled in his earpiece.

Jaxon's grip tightened on the wheel. "You tell me, sweetheart."

A cold laugh. "Keep driving, hotshot. The real fun's just beginning."

Ahead, the track split in two.

One path was clear, but narrow—lined with spiked walls.

The other was wide—but covered with automated laser turrets.

Death or death.

Jaxon gritted his teeth and chose the hard way.

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3. The Hellfire Gauntlet

The instant Jaxon took the wider path, the turrets activated.

Red beams locked onto him.

The first blast struck his rear fender, ripping off a chunk of metal.

The second grazed the roof, sparks flying.

One hit in the wrong place, and he was done.

Jaxon flicked a switch. "Time to play dirty."

The EMP pulse blaster on his car fired a shockwave.

The turrets flickered.

Jaxon barreled forward—weaving between the now-glitching death machines.

Behind him, a racer in a modified truck wasn't as lucky.

The turrets came back online just in time to reduce him to ashes.

Jaxon didn't look back.

He had only one goal.

Reach the finish line.

And stay alive.

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4. Betrayal on the Road

Halfway through the race, only four racers remained.

Jaxon (Driver 88)

Blade (a sadistic ex-soldier with an armored Mustang)

Venom (a female assassin riding a deadly motorbike)

Rogue (a silent killer with a reinforced SUV)

The final stretch loomed ahead—a massive bridge hanging over a fiery pit.

Jaxon knew the Warden wouldn't let them cross that bridge so easily.

And he was right.

The bridge began to collapse in sections.

They had seconds to make it across.

Jaxon floored the gas.

Then—a sharp impact.

Blade's Mustang rammed into Jaxon's side, forcing him towards the edge.

"No hard feelings, 88. Only room for one winner."

Jaxon fought for control.

One mistake—one overcorrection—and he'd be dead.

Venom launched a grenade at Blade's car.

The explosion sent Blade flying off the bridge—his Mustang flipping through the air before vanishing into the fire below.

Three racers left.

Jaxon gritted his teeth.

He'd remember this.

He'd remember who saved him.

But trust? That was a different story.

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5. The Finish Line of Death

The final stretch was a straight shot.

But Jaxon knew it was never that simple.

And then he saw it.

The last obstacle.

A spinning death wheel, covered in blades and flamethrowers.

One mistake, and he'd be sliced apart.

Venom shot forward, trying to pass him.

Jaxon smirked. "Not today, sweetheart."

He slammed the rear spike trap release.

Venom's bike hit the spikes—her tires shredded.

She flipped over the handlebars, crashing into the barrier.

Jaxon blasted through the finish line.

The sirens screamed. The race was over.

Only one racer had survived.

Jaxon stepped out of his car, breathless.

Above him, Warden Hawk applauded.

"Well, well, well… looks like we have a real champion."

Jaxon didn't smile.

Because he knew.

This was only the beginning.

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6. A Killer's Reward

Jaxon was escorted back to his cell, but this time, the guards treated him differently.

Respect. Fear.

He wasn't just an inmate anymore.

He was a contender.

As he sat on his bunk, the earpiece crackled again.

"Driver 88. We need to talk."

Jaxon sighed. "You again."

"You survived, but the real game is just beginning. The Warden has plans for you. And if you want to make it out of here alive… you'll need to listen carefully."

Jaxon leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

The Death Race had taken dozens of lives today.

And it was only the first round.

Tomorrow, the real war began.

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END OF CHAPTER 3