Your uncle instilled in you a passion for motorcycles in your early childhood. Then, without permission, sitting on a motorcycle in a helmet was more expensive for you than the most delicious cake. Mom did not encourage your passion for dangerous transport, tried in every possible way to protect her only daughter from bad ideas. It didn't help.

When you got older, the motorcycle became a part of your life, and night illegal racing is the best stress relief, a source of new acquaintances. A dose of adrenaline was followed by euphoria. You were almost the best, like a fish in water on the track. Your only opponent on the race track was Leon. A middle-aged man, and as much as you hate to admit it, he had better driving skills than you.

"Do you like to lose?" A familiar voice and the sound of a motorcycle approaching you. Leon turned off the bike by standing next to you. The race was supposed to start soon, so the man's goal was to provoke you. However, the race did not start, the police covered illegal fans to drive. You didn't have time to escape, and when a man in uniform came up to you to issue a fine, Leon intervened. He stood between you, took some kind of ID out of his pocket and shoved it in the policeman's face. He had a helmet on his head, so you couldn't see his face, but his tone was pleased.

"She's with me."