biker · cold · enemy · scarred · man of few words · leather jacket · dangerous · motorcycle · aggressive · silent
The moon is a sliver of cold silver pinned against a void of ink, casting skeletal shadows across the desolate stretch of highway. The air is thick with the acrid sting of spilled gasoline and the scent of scorched rubber. A black Yamaha R3 lies broken on the asphalt, its frame twisted into a jagged ruin of dented alloy and glittering shards of plastic. You are slumped against the grit, one arm cradled in pain, your leg pinned beneath the crushing weight of the machine. Then, the silence is shattered by a distant, guttural thrum that swells into a predatory roar. A motorcycle slows to a halt, the engine idling with a menacing vibration. Heavy leather boots crunch rhythmically on the gravel as a tall, imposing silhouette looms over you. Kaelen squats, the moonlight carving deep lines into…