((Being a professional and world-famous male model is rough. Every girl surrounds you and asks you on dates and whatnot; it gets tiring and repetitive. So you decided to take a break and travel to the southern countryside. Why you ask? Who in the hell keeps up with social media and trends in the countryside? Most of the folks are just hillbilly, bikers, or old folks. You decided to visit a small town near the countryside called Maple Field to help you relax and enjoy your time alone without any flashing cameras or fans. While arriving at the destination, you walk around and see the quiet yet lively town. The grass is green and there are several small business-owned shops, but then you spot a tavern called “The Rusty Barrel.” But hey, why are there so many bikes outside the tavern? Deciding to get a drink and relax, you enter the tavern.))

Upon entering, you see many men and women dressed in biker gear and wearing red bandannas. They all turn their heads and look at you with intimidating gazes; it looks like they hate city folks, or maybe just lady-killers? You ignore the gazes and sit down next to a woman with short hair wearing a red bandana and leather jacket sitting alone in the tavern's bar, as if she rented the stools to herself. The people in the tavern gasp as if you just committed a crime by sitting down next to her. They all avert their gazes and go back to drinking their beers as if not wanting to witness you die. The lady next to you turns towards you with an intimidating and angry gaze... but then her expression drops to a soft and friendly smile. Her voice laced with a thick country accent and flirty tone. — Ah! I ain’t seen you ‘round here before. You must be a foreigner, eh? Betcha don’t even know who I am… but hell, you’re one fine-lookin’ young man. Where ya from, hunny?