DRIVER 88 (The Death Race Saga).

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1. Chained and Broken

Jaxon's wrists burned where the steel shackles bit into his skin. His muscles ached from the impact of the explosion, and his vision was still blurred from the concussion. But one thing was clear—he was back in a cell.

He forced himself to sit up. The dim lighting revealed cracked concrete walls, a leaking pipe dripping water in the corner. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and rusted iron.

Not the same prison.

Something was different.

Then, the heavy iron door groaned open.

The Warden stepped inside, his boots clicking against the floor. But he wasn't alone.

A tall figure emerged from the shadows—a man Jaxon had hoped never to see again.

Reese Donovan.

The man who framed him.

The reason he was in prison.

Jaxon's jaw tightened. His hands clenched into fists. He wasn't shackled enough to stop him from tearing this bastard apart.

Donovan smirked. "You look surprised to see me, Driver 88."

Jaxon spat blood onto the floor. "Not surprised. Just disappointed you're still breathing."

The Warden chuckled. "Easy, now. We have… a new game to play."

Jaxon's heart pounded. He had just survived the worst race of his life. And now, they were throwing him into another.

"What game?" he asked, voice cold.

The Warden grinned.

"The Blood Circuit."

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2. The Blood Circuit

Jaxon was dragged through the halls of this new prison, his chains rattling as two massive guards hauled him forward.

As they passed through the corridors, he caught glimpses of other inmates.

Hardened killers. Bloodthirsty gang lords. Former war criminals.

This was different from the last prison. These weren't just prisoners. These were gladiators.

They were led into a massive underground arena—larger than anything Jaxon had ever seen.

Cages lined the walls. Inside, men and women trained with weapons—machetes, chains, axes. Not cars. Not guns. Just brutal, hand-to-hand deathmatches.

Jaxon's stomach turned.

"Where the hell am I?" he muttered.

The Warden leaned in, voice dripping with amusement. "Welcome to Ironclad."

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3. The Rivalry Rekindled

Jaxon was thrown into a cage. The door slammed shut behind him.

Across from him stood a familiar face.

Viper.

The man who had once been his greatest enemy in the Death Races. The one he had barely survived against.

Now, they were locked in together.

Viper leaned against the bars, arms crossed. His face was bruised, his knuckles raw. But his eyes still burned with that same ruthless fire.

"I was wondering when they'd bring you here," he said.

Jaxon rolled his shoulders, testing his restraints. "I thought you were dead."

Viper chuckled darkly. "Not yet. But give it time."

Jaxon narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is this place?"

Viper's smirk faded.

"This is where they send the ones who are too dangerous for the Death Races. The ones they can't control."

Jaxon felt a cold knot form in his stomach.

"So what now?"

Viper sighed. "Now?" He tilted his head toward the center of the arena.

Jaxon followed his gaze.

A massive steel cage was lowering from the ceiling. Inside was a beast of a man—seven feet tall, muscles like coiled steel, his face covered in scars.

Viper exhaled.

"Now… we fight."

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4. The First Fight

A siren blared. The arena doors slid open. The guards grabbed Jaxon and Viper, shoving them forward.

The cage door slammed shut behind them.

Jaxon's muscles tensed. He barely had time to process what was happening before their opponent lunged.

The brute moved like a monster.

Jaxon barely dodged the first swing—an arm the size of a wrecking ball swiped at his head. The force of it sent a shockwave through the air.

This wasn't a normal man. This was a trained killer.

Viper didn't hesitate. He ducked under the brute's swing and delivered a brutal knee to his ribs. The impact sounded like thunder, but the monster barely flinched.

Jaxon took his opening. He spun behind the brute and wrapped the chain from his cuffs around his throat.

The man roared, thrashing violently, but Jaxon held on, his muscles straining.

Viper drove his elbow into the man's temple.

The brute staggered—just enough for Jaxon to tighten the chain.

With one final twist, the brute's body collapsed.

A deafening silence filled the arena.

Then, the crowd erupted into cheers.

Jaxon let go, his breath heavy. He looked at Viper.

Viper smirked. "Still got it."

Jaxon exhaled. "Yeah. But this isn't over."

They both turned as the Warden's voice boomed over the speakers.

"That was just the warm-up."

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5. The Warden's Offer

Jaxon and Viper were dragged back to their cells, bruised and exhausted.

Minutes later, the Warden entered.

He leaned against the bars, watching them with amusement.

"You two make a good team," he mused.

Jaxon glared at him. "What do you want?"

The Warden grinned.

"A special event. One final race."

Jaxon's blood ran cold.

Viper stiffened. "You're lying."

The Warden's grin widened. "Oh, I never lie, gentlemen."

He tossed something onto the floor between them.

Jaxon's eyes narrowed. It was a set of car keys.

And engraved on them… "88."

Jaxon's pulse thundered.

The Death Races weren't over.

They were about to begin again.

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6. The Road to Revenge

That night, Jaxon sat in his cell, staring at the ceiling. His body ached, his mind raced.

He had fought, bled, and survived more than any man should. But now?

Now, they were throwing him back into another Death Race.

But this time…

It wasn't just about survival.

It was about revenge.

He turned to Viper. "We need to get out of here."

Viper raised an eyebrow. "Escape?"

Jaxon nodded. He wasn't going to play their game anymore.

He was going to burn it all down.

Viper smirked. "Now we're talking."

Jaxon clenched his fists.

This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

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End of Chapter 29.