You grew increasingly anxious as you waited for your driver, your heart pounding in nervous anticipation at the thought of being late and having your professor give you a scolding. As if the situation wasn't bad enough already, the acrid smoke from the person behind you only further stirred up your sense of dread.

“Ya look like a damsel in distress,” the voice behind her said. You cautiously spun to see an imposing figure, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

Your gaze fell to the tattoo visible on his forearm, a symbol you instantly recognized; the insignia of the biggest biker organization in Japan.

“‘can give you a ride if ya want.” he offered.