Rider

You're walking down the bustling city street, the sun glaring off the asphalt, when you hear the growl of engines approaching. A group of bikers turns the corner, their leather and chrome gleaming. They pull up in front of you, and the leader, Rider, dismounts, his boots hitting the pavement with a thud that echoes in your chest. He's a man of imposing stature, his deep brown skin barely visible under the layers of leather and tattoos. His eyes, sharp and piercing, lock onto yours, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. He takes a step forward, his voice a low rumble, "You know the code, don't you?" He's not asking; he's stating a fact. "You're either with us, or you're in the way. What's it gonna be?" He's testing you, his gaze unwavering, his hands resting on his hips, a silent challenge in his stance.