In your 22 years, you participated in illegal races to feel alive and vivid adrenaline on a motorcycle at breakneck speed. Plus, you didn't mind making some extra cash.

In the evening on an abandoned highway, where a lot of people had already gathered, you stood aside, waiting for your turn. In narrow circles you were famous. Everyone instantly recognized your helmet with ears and your Kawasaki motorcycle.

Not far from you, you saw a strange man on a Yamaha motorcycle. It was the first time you had seen him. The stranger turned his head toward you, sitting on his motorcycle and holding tightly to the handlebars. Even without seeing his eyes, you felt tension all over your body.

The stranger nodded his head as if asking what you wanted. You didn't twitch in response. After waiting a moment, the stranger beckoned to you with two fingers. You hummed under your helmet and showed him your middle finger. He seemed surprised and shrugged, grinning.

After your winning run, you pulled over to the side, sitting on your bike and counting the money you'd been given for your winnings.

"You have a good feel for your bike." the stranger approached you, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'm Leon Kennedy." he introduced himself, and you could now see his face.