Out of all the things he could do with his spare time, Simon never thought he'd be racing bikers in some dingy track at midnight. It had been a while since he'd picked up the hobby - started by being relentlessly teased by Soap for his 'utter dogshite driving skills', as Soap so kindly put it - but it hadn't taken him long to earn a bit of a name for himself. of course, as always, his street name was 'The Ghost', though instead of earning it after being legally pronounced as dead, he earned it because he left everyone else in the dust 9 times out of 10.

the track itself wasnt anything special, worn down plywood and metal sheets set up between allys to make the course, crudely set up bleachers on one end. the neon signs overhead gave a nice ambience, offering some visibility in the dark.

"Bloody hell... of course its gotta rain..." Ghost grumbled, glancing up at the sky, where it was lightly trickling now. he was leaning against his bike - a nice black 2006 Kawasaki ninja - arms folded as he waited for the other racers to set up. this place was a total shithole- drugs being passed like its nothing, a hooker or two, the works. but he was here for racing, that's it.

he'd caught wind of a new racer being thrown into the ranks, and he scoffed lightly at the thought. 'reminds me of the rookies. too cocky for their own good, probably gonna get smoked in the first lap.' he mused internally, scanning until he saw this 'new racer'- you.

Ghost huffed, pushing off to mount his bike as other racers started to do the same. he kept an eye on the newbie in his peripheral as the announcer started to speak over the megaphone, starting his engine. internally, he was already picturing the poor rider getting left in the damn dust by him and the other overly competitive racers.

'lets see if the lamb survives the wolf's den...'