A few miles away from Miami's glittering tourist hub, amidst the dense wetlands, lay an area people called the "Death Strip." Here, there was no beauty of nature, only a terrifying silence. A road cut through the middle of this dark swamp, bisecting the wilderness as if someone had slashed the earth's chest with an axe. This road looked straight, but its secrets were twisted.
In recent years, the scenes this desolate road had witnessed were enough to make the souls of old Miami residents shiver. The accidents here never stopped. People passed through, but they never returned. Sometimes, the severed body of a traveler would be found hanging from the high cypress trees like a macabre toy. Sometimes, at midnight, cars passing by would be found with charred corpses inside, faces burned beyond recognition. And some unfortunates simply vanished into thin air; neither their bodies nor a single clue was ever found.
In the beginning, when these incidents started, the law tried to show its strength. Some brave police officers entered that dense darkness with their teams to investigate. But the swamp didn't let anyone return. What happened the next day turned the pride of the badge into dust.
The bodies of those officers were found not in the swamp, but dumped right in the police station parking lot. Their bodies bore marks not of wild animals, but of human cruelty so severe that even the coroner trembled. It was a direct message: This territory is beyond the reach of the law. After that horrific morning, no cop ever dared to step on that road again. The force knelt, and the area was declared a "No-Man's Land."
Fear had taken such deep roots in people's hearts that even birds were afraid to fly there in broad daylight. At night, looking toward that road was considered suicide. Strange stories became famous among the people regarding that path:
The Gates of Hell: Some elders believed this road led straight to hell, from where there is no return.
The Devil's Shadow: Some said it was the home of an ancient evil spirit thirsty for human blood.
The Mafia's Slaughterhouse: Those who were a little wiser whispered that this was Black Rose's "Butcher Shop," where every voice raised against them was silenced.
What was the truth? Was there really a supernatural force, or just monsters hiding in human skin? It remained a mystery. No one had the courage to go to that dark road and search for the truth, because the price of knowing the truth there was only death.
The night was thick with silence in the heart of that terrifying swamp. The clock struck eleven. The air felt heavy, as if the soul of the forest was holding its breath, waiting for prey. Suddenly, the screech of tires and the roar of an engine shattered the quiet.
A black sports car was racing down the "Death Strip" at lightning speed. The headlights cut through the darkness. A girl's hands were clamped tight on the steering wheel. She wore a haunting mask the face of a wolf. This wasn't just a costume; it was an identity, a bloody symbol. In the underworld, every gang has its mark, and this "Wolf" mask belonged to the Red Knight gang.
Suddenly, a strange grinding sound came from the engine and the car began to jerk. Within seconds, the vehicle died in the middle of the road.
"Not again! Damn it!" The girl hissed, slamming her fist against the steering wheel. Her voice was laced with rage. At this time, in this place, a stalled car was practically a suicide note. She turned the ignition repeatedly and floored the pedal, but the car remained lifeless.
She was about to step out to check the engine when she saw it.
Two blinding lights emerged from the darkness, stinging her eyes. A car was hurtling toward her at full speed. Before she could react—CRASH! A violent impact rocked her car.
The girl's head barely missed the dashboard. Before she could recover, the opposing car reversed and slammed into her again with even more velocity. The collision was devastating; the windshield shattered into thousands of jagged shards, raining down into the cabin. Pieces of glass embedded themselves into her skin, and streaks of blood began to soak her clothes. It was only because she was wearing tactical eye protection that she didn't lose her sight.
Groaning in pain, she looked toward the headlights of the other car and whispered, "Is he a psycho?"
Despite the damage to her car, the attacker's front end was also mangled. The assailant backed up. The girl hoped he was leaving and tried to take a breath of relief. But then came the roar of the engine again. That car surged toward her like a chariot of death. This time, the speed was greater than both previous hits combined.
The girl closed her eyes in terror. She felt like it was over. She could almost feel death's touch.
Suddenly, the scream of skidding tires echoed. The car stopped just inches away from hers.
The girl slowly opened her eyelids. The man inside the other car was staring at her. He wore a mask with a Falcon logo the deadliest symbol of the Black Rose. There was an evil, sinister glint in his eyes. He smirked at her condition, seemingly enjoying her agony.
He made an incredibly filthy and insulting gesture, shifted gears, and vanished into the night like a ghost.
The girl's face flushed with fury. Using all her strength, she screamed, "Bastard! I will kill you!"
With trembling hands, she pulled her phone from the dashboard and dialed a number. After two rings, someone picked up.
"Hey, Bunny. I'm stuck," her voice was now weak and trembling with pain.
"What? Again?" A calm, steady voice answered from the other end.
"Yeah. Get here fast."
"Okay, hang on. I'm coming!"
Twenty minutes later, another car tore through the silence and arrived. As soon as it stopped, a girl stepped out with a loaded gun in her hand. It was Bunny. She scanned the surroundings with extreme caution. She knew that in this swamp, even the trees acted as spies. Once she was certain the coast was clear, she moved toward the wrecked car.
"Hey MJ, get out of there! Staying here any longer is an invitation to death!" Bunny whispered urgently.
"Bunny, give me a hand. I can't stand up," MJ said, reaching out from inside the car.
Bunny grabbed MJ's hand and helped pull her out. MJ was in bad shape; her body was lacerated by glass and bruised from the impacts. Bunny supported her, practically lifting her to the back seat of her car.
Without wasting a second, Bunny jumped into the driver's seat, started the engine, and peeled away, leaving that cursed road behind. All that remained was the glint of broken glass and the terrifying shadow of the Black Rose.