ROAD TRIP | Marlowe, River, Julian, Sam

Marlowe’s old SUV tore down the road, a whirlwind of fallen leaves kicked up by the rush of wind as the car sped past. Music blasted from the speakers—Julian had insisted on controlling the playlist, grinning like he owned the damn thing.

Marlowe kept her hands steady on the wheel, fingers tapping a steady rhythm as a ridiculously cheesy love song filled the car. Every now and then, her gaze would flicker whenever certain lyrics caught her off guard—lines that seemed to hit a little too close to home.

Sam sat quietly on the passenger seat, staring out the window, jaw clenched as he fought the urge to cringe at the relentless noise. He forced himself not to grimace, not wanting to kill the mood for anyone. If only he’d brought earbuds. His eyes tracked the blur of trees slipping past, hoping the scenery could drown out Julian’s off-key warbling.

Julian, as always, was a force of nature sat on the back singing loud, wrong notes and all, with a devil-may-care grin. Was he doing it just to annoy everyone? Probably. Was he enjoying every second? Absolutely.

“’CAUSE BABY, MY HEART IS GOING BADUM! BADUM! IT’S SWELLING—FILLING UP MY RIBS!” he shouted, voice cracking on the high notes.

River, sitting with him in the back, watched the spectacle with a mix of disbelief and amusement. His jaw hung slack for a moment before twitching into a smirk. He couldn’t even put on headphones—Julian’s voice was an unstoppable force, blasting through any attempt at peace. His phone was out, fingers hovering over the record button, capturing every ridiculous second.

Suddenly, a sleek, shiny car pulled up alongside them, its polished surface gleaming in the fading light. The music blasting from their speakers was a brutal, grinding metal—jarringly out of place against their ragtag caravan. The mismatched vibes collided like a kaleidoscope shattering into a dizzying mess.

“Yo, grandma! You might wanna stick your tits in that baby’s mouth— it’s wailing like crazy!” The words came from a pack of sunburnt frat boys, their grins too wide and teeth too white, like a bad parody of hippies trying way too hard. Whatever they are, they are not doing it justice.

Marlowe didn’t hesitate. With a sharp glare, she yanked a half-full can of soda from the cup holder and launched it perfectly into their car. Julian erupted with a wild cheer from the back seat. Sam rubbed a hand over his face, already dreading the inevitable fallout.

“BITCH!!!” The frat boys erupted in furious curses, slap-shouting and flailing as the sugary mess drenched them. Marlowe slammed her foot down, the SUV surging forward, tires biting into the gravel shoulder as she distanced them from the sticky retaliation. Her arm shot out the window, middle finger raised in a defiant salute, lips curving into a triumphant grin.

From the backseat, Julian’s laughter rang out, raw and infectious. “Hell fucking yeah!” River shook his head, a reluctant grin breaking through his usual calm. He tapped the star icon on his phone, saving the video for posterity.

Sam’s voice cut through the noise, cautious but tinged with worry. “Was that really necessary?”

Marlowe shrugged, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips, ”Those fuckers deserved it.”

Sam glanced back in the rearview mirror, eyes narrowing as the other car closed the distance.

Marlowe’s old SUV tore down the road, a whirlwind of fallen leaves kicked up by the rush of wind as the car sped past. Music blasted from the speakers—Julian had insisted on controlling the playlist, grinning like he owned the damn thing.

Marlowe kept her hands steady on the wheel, fingers tapping a steady rhythm as a ridiculously cheesy love song filled the car. Every now and then, her gaze would flicker whenever certain lyrics caught her off guard—lines that seemed to hit a little too close to home.

Sam sat quietly on the passenger seat, staring out the window, jaw clenched as he fought the urge to cringe at the relentless noise. He forced himself not to grimace, not wanting to kill the mood for anyone. If only he’d brought earbuds. His eyes tracked the blur of trees slipping past, hoping the scenery could drown out Julian’s off-key warbling.

Julian, as always, was a force of nature sat on the back singing loud, wrong notes and all, with a devil-may-care grin. Was he doing it just to annoy everyone? Probably. Was he enjoying every second? Absolutely.

“’CAUSE BABY, MY HEART IS GOING BADUM! BADUM! IT’S SWELLING—FILLING UP MY RIBS!” he shouted, voice cracking on the high notes.

River, with him in the back, watched the spectacle with a mix of disbelief and amusement. His jaw hung slack for a moment before twitching into a smirk. He couldn’t even put on headphones—Julian’s voice was an unstoppable force, blasting through any attempt at peace. His phone was out, fingers hovering over the record button, capturing every ridiculous second.

The night air was thick and still, heavy with the scent of gasoline and faint traces of cigarette smoke. The flickering neon sign of the gas station cast a sickly glow over the cracked pavement, pooling in puddles that reflected the dim light like shattered glass. The world outside felt still, like they’d slipped into a little pocket of calm far away from the chaos they’d left behind.

Marlowe killed the engine, the sudden silence almost jarring after the hum of the road. The car doors opened one by one, and They spilled out of the car like survivors of a small, voluntary exile—limbs stiff, joints popping, skin buzzing from hours of music and highway.

Sam was already moving before the others fully straightened. He slid his card into the pump with practiced efficiency, eyes flicking once to the numbers, once to the dark stretch of road beyond. The nozzle clicked into place. He adjusted it automatically, like he’d done it a hundred times before. Probably had.

Julian stretched dramatically beside the car, arching his back like he’d just finished a performance instead of sitting in a backseat for hours. “Finally. I swear my ass was going numb,” he announced to no one in particular. River snorted softly but didn’t look up from his phone. His reflection hovered ghostlike in the screen. He drifted toward the store entrance, hands in his pockets, gaze flicking up only when the bell above the door gave a tired ring.

Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the cramped aisles. The clerk stood behind the counter, shoulders slumped, eyes hollow and unfocused—like someone whose soul had been slowly drained by years of monotony and bad coffee. He didn’t greet them. Didn’t need to. They were just more night people passing through.

Julian made a beeline for the snack aisle, grabbing a bag of chips and squeezing it experimentally like he was testing produce. “Gentlemen,” he called back toward no one specific, “this establishment has gourmet cuisine.”

River had already stationed himself at the fridge, cold light washing over his face. He stared at rows of energy drinks, his indecisiveness once again kicking in.

Outside, Marlowe leaned against the hood of her car, the metal still warm under her palms. The lighter sparked, flame briefly carving sharp lines across her face. She inhaled slow, steady. Her eyes scanning over her friends.

The sun hung low, its fading light filtering lazily through the dense woods that framed the narrow roadside. A crisp breeze swept in, swirling fallen leaves into lazy spirals that caught the last amber rays before settling softly onto the gravel shoulder. Marlowe’s battered SUV choked and sputtered, coughing out its last protest before rolling to a reluctant stop. The engine had finally given out somewhere beneath the hood, leaving the car stranded amid the dull green of trees and the lifeless gray of gravel.

Before anyone could say a word, Marlowe was already out, the door slamming shut behind her with purpose. She strode to the front, the hood creaking open with a sharp clang that cut through the stillness. A rush of warm air, heavy with the scent of metal, motor oil, and something faintly burnt, spilled out to greet her face. Her fingers moved without hesitation, tracing the loose cable of the battery with practiced ease.

“Battery’s loose,” she muttered, voice low and steady, eyes narrowing in concentration. “Probably rattled free on the rough road.”

“Julian, hit it when I say,” she called over her shoulder. Julian, already lounging halfway out of the driver’s seat with a grin, gave her a dramatic salute. “Roger that, Captain.”

Marlowe barely spared him a glance before issuing her next order. “Someone grab me a 10mm wrench—Toolbox. Trunk.” she said, already digging her fingers into the engine bay, twisting and prodding with the ease of someone coaxing a stubborn old friend back to life.

Sam and River moved together toward the rear, the trunk giving a reluctant groan as it popped open. Inside sat a chaotic, gleaming arsenal—rows of ratchets, sockets, pliers, and a confusing array of metal tools neatly arranged in a jumble of organized disorder. Both men paused, blinking as their eyes adjusted to the seemingly endless sea of nearly identical silver wrenches.

Sam broke the silence with a whisper, “Google?”

River nodded and pulled out his phone, the screen casting a pale glow over his focused features as he tapped quickly, scrolling through images of various wrenches. The one they needed—a short, open-ended, silver wrench—looked indistinguishable from half a dozen others in the box.

Sam lifted a wrench, squinting at the tiny engraving as though it might reveal the secret password. He crouched lower, feigning confidence while his mind raced to match the search results with the tools before him, “So...” He muttered, eyes darting between the glowing screen and the tools. “Short. Open end. Probably silver.”

River pointed out dryly. “They’re all silver.”

Marlowe’s sharp voice cut through their fumbling, breaking the quiet. “Hurry up!”

Both men winced, sharing a quick glance of mutual dread, but they didn’t slow down. They rifled through the metal like desperate treasure hunters. “Waaait—be patient. We’re trying to get it out, it’s stuck,” Sam lied reluctantly, exchanging a look with River who pursed his lips.

From the driver’s side window, Julian popped his head out, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Marlowe! Do I turn it now? I feel like I should turn it.”

“Don’t you dare,” Marlowe snapped without looking up, fingers still working their magic beneath the hood.

.