The Dragon’s Ride

The classes went by as usual, with Sawyer drifting into space, peering at his bike through the glass window. The second bell rang, signaling the end of class, and Sawyer ejected himself from his seat, eager to escape the confines of the classroom. For seniors like him, the day was practically over, with only one more elective class left—a class with a teacher who didn't care if anyone showed up and marked everyone present regardless. So, Sawyer's day was essentially done.

As he reached his bike and turned over the engine, he heard a muffled shout. Ezekiel came rushing out of the building, his words lost to the sound of Sawyer's helmet. Sawyer lifted his visor just in time to hear Ezekiel's frantic call.

"Wait!" Ezekiel shouted, breathless from his sprint across the school grounds. "When you go back home, I….need you to….take my sister to handle something for the club," he said, his words coming out in gasps, as if he'd just run a marathon.

"Will do," Sawyer replied, nodding firmly.

"Ride safe, brother," Ezekiel said, extending his fist for a bump. Sawyer met it with his own. With a final wave to the parking lot security guard, Sawyer revved his engine, leaving behind only the roar of his bike as he sped away.

Upon reaching the apartment complex, Sawyer walked up the familiar stairs and knocked on Ezekiel's door. Almost immediately, Aiyana opened it and squeezed out, locking the door behind her with practiced efficiency. Her attire was striking: a black hoodie emblazoned with the "Devil's Disciples" logo on the back, paired with black leggings that accentuated her athletic build, and sleek black ankle-high shoes.

"Ready?" Aiyana asked.

Sawyer couldn't help but stare for a second. "…Yeah…" he said eventually, admiring her beauty for a moment. "You've ridden passenger before, right?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of worry.

"Of course," she replied, waiting for Sawyer to mount his bike before she gracefully swung her leg over and settled in behind him.

"So where are we going anyways?" Sawyer asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

"I gotta make a stop somewhere. I'll tap your left and right shoulder to let you know when to turn," she said, donning her all-white helmet. The helmet was sleek and aerodynamic, with a sculpted design. Its most striking feature was the purple-tinted visor that gleamed in the light, giving her an almost ethereal appearance as she flipped it down. 

"How far is this place?" Sawyer asked, his tone laced with concern, the prospect of a long drive making him mentally tired.

"Like five minutes from here. Now stop being a baby and drive!" she said, half-jokingly.

Sawyer pulled out from his parking spot, the weight transference was something he had to get used to. Fortunately, her small stature, despite her curvaceous body, made the adjustment easier. As they exited the apartment complex, she tapped his right shoulder, signaling the first turn.

After a few more taps on his shoulder, they arrived at a rundown apartment complex that made his own seem like heaven in comparison. "Stay here," Aiyana instructed, hopping off the bike and heading toward the second floor. Sawyer kept the engine running, glancing at his bike's dash, which displayed general information such as the speedometer, modes, temperature reader, and gas level, much like a Yamaha 2020 R3. "Damn, I need gas soon," he mumbled under his breath as he watched Aiyana knock on a door at the far end of the second floor.

The door swung open, revealing a man in a dirty wife beater and oversized joggers. They exchanged a quick handshake before the door shut again and Aiyana began descending the steps. "What'd you get?" Sawyer asked curiously, straightening his back and tightening his grip on the handlebars as she prepared to hop on.

"Nothing of importance," Aiyana replied, stuffing whatever she had retrieved into her hoodie pockets. "I need you to go to one more place. It's like three minutes from here," she added, wrapping her hands around his waist and resting them on the gas tank.

Sawyer navigated the streets as directed, his mind racing with curiosity about the nature of their errands. In a few minutes, they arrived at the next motel, a stark reminder of the contrasts in living conditions. He parked the bike, and Aiyana quickly dismounted, heading toward the furthest door on the right.

She knocked five times in a rhythmic pattern, the beats harmoniously spaced. A brief pause of silence followed before the door creaked open just enough for a hand to reach out. Aiyana handed over the small baggie she had retrieved earlier, and the door promptly shut with a finality that suggested the transaction was complete.

As Aiyana walked back to the bike, curiosity got the best of Sawyer. "Who was that?" he asked, his voice tinged with a sign of curiosity. Aiyana sighed as she put her helmet on, her tone heavy with fatigue and annoyance. "The club will tell you when it's time," she replied wearily.

She hopped onto the back of the bike, and Sawyer, sensing her reluctance to discuss the matter further, didn't press the issue. He revved the engine and took her back home, the journey filled with an uneasy silence.

Upon arriving at the complex, Sawyer watched Aiyana ascend the steps, her figure receding into the shadows. His face was a mixture of confusion, longing, and a deep sense of not understanding the situation. With a sigh, he donned his helmet once more, his mind set on one more destination before Ezekiel returned from school.

He drove about twenty minutes from the complex and arrived at Sunset Powersports, the main motorcycle dealership in town. The dealership's facade was modern and sleek, with large glass windows showcasing the gleaming bikes inside, and a bold, illuminated sign reading "Sunset Powersports." Outside, rows of pristine SSW and DFM motorcycles lined the front, flanked by rugged dirt bikes and formidable ATVs, creating an enticing display of power and speed.

He opened the doors, and his eyes widened in awe as he took in the expansive showroom filled with a diverse array of motorcycles, dirt bikes, and ATVs. The gleaming chrome and vibrant colors made it feel like a haven for any motorsport enthusiast. Almost immediately, a young salesperson, appearing to be in his mid-20s, approached with a welcoming smile.

"Hello, sir, can I help you today?" the salesman asked in a friendly manner.

"…No… I'm just looking…" Sawyer's voice trailed off as he marveled at the collection, his initial silence a testament to the awe he felt. Even when he spoke, his words were hesitant, as if the sight before him demanded reverence.

"Sounds good, let me know if you need any more help!" the salesman said kindly, before walking away to assist other customers.

Sawyer walked over to the section marked by large letters spelling "SSW" hanging on the wall. Here, all their vehicles were displayed, but his attention was riveted to the motorcycles. The SSW 600s stood out, a beast of power with a formidable 300cc advantage over his current ride. Its menacing lights gave it a deathly stare, and the "600s" was emblazoned in black on its left fairing, perfectly complementing the all-blue bodywork and matching rims. It was the newest version of the bike, unmistakable not only by its sleek design but also its advanced dash, which added a futuristic edge to its aggressive appearance.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, the SSW 1000s caught Sawyer's attention, nearly snapping his neck by the speed at which he turned. Its design bore a resemblance to the 600s, but there was an unmistakable aura of raw power emanating from it. Sawyer walked around it slowly, taking in every detail of its aggressive lines and features.

Sawyer approached the left side of the bike and reached out his hand slowly, hesitating for a moment before swinging his right leg over it. As soon as he settled onto the bike, even with the kickstand down, he could feel the immense power contained within his grasp. The slightest twist of the throttle promised criminal speeds of over 100 mph. He lifted the bike up and pushed the kickstand up with his left foot, feeling the significant difference in dry weight between this beast and his current ride. The weight felt substantial, a potent reminder of the machine's capabilities and the respect it demanded.

His heart started pounding rapidly. Even though the bike couldn't start and it was only stock, the sheer difference in power brought an exhilarating yet frightening pleasure to him. With a sigh of both awe and longing, he put the kickstand back down, leaning the bike over and turning the handlebars back to their original position.

As he was about to leave the dealership, satisfied but still buzzing from the experience, another motorcycle caught his eye, this time from the DFM side. Drawn by an inexplicable allure, he slowly receded from the door and walked over to the wall where the DFM motorcycles were proudly displayed. There were only two versions, but each stood out with a distinct presence.