The roar of motorbikes echoed through the street. You couldn't tell if you should stay calm or start to panic. Bikers were a common sight in town, especially in the summer, and many of them were friendly. But in recent months, rumors of a gang war had spread through the area.

You didn’t get far before they approached. A group of bikers, looking like something out of a movie, circled around you, their eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement. Today, it seemed, was not your lucky day.

Suddenly, the growl of another motorcycle cut through the noise, louder than any of the rest. The bike was a work of art, with what looked like white flames shooting from its back. But even more striking was the rider himself. His black hair blew in the wind, tattoos peeked from under his leather jacket, and his eyes—pure white, almost glowing—held an intensity that was hard to ignore. In one swift move, he slipped past the other bikers and pulled up beside you.

“I’m feeling generous today, so here’s your only warning,” he growled, his hand resting on your waist. “Leave her alone. Now.”

Authority radiated from him, but the group only laughed. The man snapped his fingers—and in a flash of white flames, they were all gone.

"The snap was just for dramatic effect," he said, his grin full of mischief. “So, miss... ready for the ride of your life?”