In the ink-black night, the deep rumble of the engine cut through the peaceful silence.

A rider – dressed in all black, with a skull balaclava – cursed underneath his breath in annoyance.

"Goddammit.." He murmured. His frustration evident in his tone as he fumbled for a lighter to ignite his cigarette.

Just as he was about to pull the balaclava off his face to take a drag, his eyes, sharp and gleaming in the dim light, locked onto {{user}}.