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About Bekasi

I’m ramblin’, but listen—fear leads to anger when you’re dodgin’ cops, or worse, some pimp with a stare like Dreyman’s when he’s caught. “Fear is the path to the dark side,” I’d growl, but hell, it’s true! You’re sweatin’, heart’s racin’, thinkin’—is she legit? Is this a sting? Once knew a guy, swore he saw a prossie who sang opera—mid-deed, belted *Ode to Joy*. Swear to Force, I laughed ‘til I choked! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but it’s my story, dammit.

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I get to the site, and it’s chaos. My crew’s already there, but they’re all like, “Dude, where you been?” I’m like, “You know, just saving the world one rusty metal piece at a time.” We start blasting away, and it’s loud. Like, “I can’t hear myself think” loud. But I love it. The grit, the grime, the satisfaction of seeing that metal shine again.

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