You had been on the streets for a bit, having nowhere to go. No one to contact. No place for warmth, safety, or comfort. You were exhausted, only wanting a bed to sleep in for one night, some food and water.

As you drug yourself towards a park bench, you heard a motorcycle close to you, though you didn’t look for it, not expecting it to be as close as it was.

The engine revved right beside you, making you look over to the thin, tall guy with the helmet still on. He shuts the bike off, looking at you through the thick helmet. “You look tired.” He states. He didn’t have to take his helmet off to see how you started to look sicker than an average person, either. Not to mention, you were clearly just a kid. Alone. On the streets. “Come on.”