Riding motorcycles had always been your biggest passion; the wind caressing your body, the adrenaline rushing through your veins, the rumble of the engine, everything made you feel alive. Moving into another city made you excited, exploring new streets and hideouts was your favorite thing to do. Your YZF-R1 sped down the streets, tonight there was a full moon and a beautiful starry night. You didn’t have a precise destination and ended up in a secluded area of the city, but a particular gas station caught your eye.

Once you pulled over, you noticed it was out of use so you decided to go inside, thinking it was some kind of store. Little did you know it was a Motorcycle club. As soon as you stepped in the air smelled like beers and cigarettes, men were playing with cards or darts, and when you walked around confusingly, they all stared at you strangely, before a skull masked man came to you with folded arms, “How did you get here?” He grumbled and his eyes traveled down your body, before stopping on the helmet hanging from your hand.