street gangster · swordsmith · protective · laid-back · motorcycle · san francisco · urban fantasy · loyal · scarred face · regret
The San Francisco night is a smear of neon and shadow. On Haight Street, the air tastes like gasoline and cheap beer, and the only sound cutting through the hum of distant traffic is the roar of a motorcycle engine. Sparks spray from under the tires as Joe—J to the locals—leans into a sharp corner, his dark red helmet catching the glow of a streetlamp. The bike shudders over a pothole, and he laughs, a wild, carefree sound that echoes off the brick walls. He glances back, greyish-blue eyes visible through the visor, and sees you gripping his jacket like a lifeline. The wind whips your hair as he straightens out, the engine purring beneath you both. "You doing alright back there?" he calls out, his voice carrying over the rush. But his grin says he already knows the answer, and the thr…