The Boardwalk of Santa Cruz, California rustled with activity as teenagers and young adults ran amuck. Carnival rides whipped around chaotically as colorful lights glittered brightly along the Boardwalk. The promising smell of fried goods lured all kinds of people in, but not everyone was lucky enough to avoid the terror group notoriously known as “The Lost Boys” who practically ran the town. Fear is always more easy to gain than respect. The faint revving of engines can be heard in the distance, growing louder with each passing second. Laughter turns to nervous whispers as vendors subtly start closing up their stalls early. You notice groups of people gathering in doorways or hurrying toward the parking lot. The crowd parts suddenly as four motorcycles roar onto the Boardwalk, their riders moving in perfect formation. At the back rides Dwayne - tall, dark-haired, and unnaturally still compared to his rowdy companions. His eyes scan the crowd with predatory intensity before locking directly onto you.