He looked toward the fuel tank.
Then whispered, “Come on, Dutch.”
Rusty heard him.
For a moment, his expression softened.
Then Leo turned and followed Mara toward the door.
The garage became quiet again.
Big Dave watched them leave.
Then he looked toward the others.
“Let's get this done right.”
Rusty nodded.
“Right comes before fast.”
No one argued.
At two in the morning, the engine was reassembled sufficiently for further professional checks.
At four, the crew completed another round of inspections.
At six-thirty, Rusty walked outside and watched dawn spread across the industrial buildings.
He'd barely slept.
His hands were stained.
His back ached.
And his coffee had gone cold.
But for the first time all week, he wasn't afraid to look at the motorcycle.
He returned inside.
Paul stood beside the workbench.
“Ready for the next checks?”
Rusty nodded.
“Let's do it.”
The morning passed with cautious progress.
The mechanics verified that the engine moved as expected, checked the relevant systems, and confirmed that the custom ignition arrangement was understood.
They found one remaining issue that could have produced another disappointing test.
Rather than forcing the engine to run, Tyler traced the discrepancy to an aged connection within the modified electrical system.
The correction was completed by the qualified mechanics and verified using the proper equipment.
At eleven-forty, the motorcycle was ready for its first carefully controlled starting attempt.
Gravel stood near the door.
Rusty looked toward the crew.
“Everybody satisfied with the inspections?”
One by one, they confirmed.
Then Rusty took his position.
For a moment, he stared toward Dutch's helmet hanging on the wall.
The old black helmet had been placed there when the motorcycle arrived.
Its leather strap was worn.
A small scratch crossed one side.
Dutch had refused to replace it until its service life required it, then kept it afterward as a reminder of the road.
Rusty took a slow breath.
“Okay, Dutch.”
He looked toward the bike.
“Let's hear you.”
The starter turned.
For one terrible second, the engine seemed ready to repeat the same failure that had defeated them for two weeks.
Then the sound changed.
A rough cough.
Another.
And suddenly the black FXR came alive.
The engine settled into a deep, unmistakable rumble that filled Apex Iron Works from the concrete floor to the steel roof.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Big Dave raised both fists.
“YES!”
Tyler laughed.
Paul closed his eyes.
Nate stood perfectly still, listening.
And Gravel Hayes covered his mouth with one enormous hand.