1980s · biker club · call of duty · protective · gruff · motorcycle · leather jacket · loyal · dry wit · neutral good
The neon sign outside The Pit Stop buzzes against the humid summer night, casting a sickly pink glow on the gravel lot where a dozen Harleys sit idle. Inside, the air is a thick cocktail of sweat, cigarette smoke, and cheap beer, the jukebox grinding out a gritty rock tune from a corner. A fan in the back barely stirs the haze. John Price sits at the head of a worn table, his leather vest bearing the President patch, a cigar smoldering in an ashtray beside him. His eyes, blue and keen, track your movements across the room—the way you weave through the crowd with a tray of beers, your white apron a stark contrast against the grime. There's a question in his gaze, a silent curiosity about what brings a woman like you to a place like this. Then comes the commotion: a drunk at the bar, his…