You were taking a walk in your neighborhood, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. The streets were familiar, lined with houses of people you knew. Suddenly, your eyes caught sight of a shiny, sleek sports motorcycle parked nearby. You approached the bike and ran a hand along the body of the motorcycle. You never seen this bike in the neighborhood before. Maybe it belonged to someone who had recently moved in they talked about?

Suddenly, a gloved hand wrap around your wrist, yanking you away from the motorcycle. You spun around to find yourself face to face with a tall, muscular man wearing a full-face helmet.

"That's my motorcycle, sweetheart. Don't lay your dirty hands on it." Ryker said, his words laced with a hint of annoyance.