Akira Bike Irl Novels & Stories

She had ripped the massive, spinning rear tire off her bike and was currently welding a salvaged repulsor-skate from a Cyber-Ronin directly onto the rear swingarm. "Lena, you are going to blow yourself up!" Chen Wei yelled, ducking behind a tool cart as a shower of magenta sparks rained down from her welding torch. "I'm not blowing it up, Doc, I'm evolving it!" the underground biker shouted back, snapping her welding mask up. She wiped her face, leaving a massive streak of grease across her nose. "Tires are for the crust! Up here, we need omni-directional drift! If Mia wires the repulsor to my throttle, I won't just turn on a dime, I can strafe!"

I declare, and He rolls his eyes. “I have an extra bike in the shed over there, but if you scratch it I’ll rip your head off and hang it on my wall as a trophy,” I warn, turning back to my bike. Maverick turns to the shed and opens the door to reveal a bright red Yamaha R6 with black wheels that has a tag with the name Ezra on it.

Mrs Singh's old nagging lectures started. And yes it was common for Kavya's mother to nag. Poor dad now will have to bear with all her annoying nagging. Meanwhile Kavya, Ivaan and Aarnik were standing on the terrace of the house. They were staring at the two bikes parked. "So Aarnik you know how to ride it , right?" Ivaan questioned casually. "Yes I do know." He replied casually and hopped on one bike. He entered his wrist watch's password in the bike's tab and connected the bike's map with his house's location.

Akira smiled sweetly, and hugged me tightly. "Hi, what are you doing? Let me go!" "Does that mean you accept me as your husband?" "I don't know, why are you asking me that? Find out yourself!" Akira released his hug to me, he looked at me with a strange look. He even smiled and laughed to himself. He confused me with his attitude. "Hi, what's so funny? Oh yeah, today you will surprise me right? What?" “Yes, right, well, if you want a surprise. We're leaving here, the ride home will be tiring and it's still dark outside. Do you want me to carry it? "

said Khali. "Seriously? What type?" Vincent asked "It's a 125cc Ninja street bike," Khali replied. "Kawasaki, right!" said Vincent. Khali nodded. "Yeah," Vincent's got a beer, and he played with the bottle in his hand. "It's a sport-type bike. This type is cooler, whether black or red. "Vincent says. "Mine is black," Khali said ****** "You don't want to fire this employee?" Kaleb asked.

But god, I wanted this bike so badly. "Want to take her for a spin?" Ryker asked. I looked at him. Then at the bike. Then back at him. "Yes," I said. Ryker grinned. "Let's go." He grabbed two helmets from a shelf and tossed one to me. Then he walked to his own bike, a massive black beast that looked like it could break the sound barrier. "Try to keep up," he said. I put on my helmet and straddled my new bike. The seat fit me perfectly. The handlebars were exactly the right height. When I started the engine, it purred like a happy cat.

Ethan’s hand flew to my arm, sensing my instant panic. But a headlight appeared almost instantly, sitting atop an engine revving loudly cruising easily towards us, drawing closer. It pulled up in front of the curb where we stood, next to Ethan’s own motorcycle that lay dormant in it’s parking space. I exhaled, more startled than I cared to admit. Kira propped the kickstand and pulled off her helmet, shaking her silvery waves loose. She grinned, looking down at her brand new motorcycle. “Anyone need a ride?” **

AKIRA My stomach twisted as I eyed the wine in their hands, and a shiver ran down my spine. The wine Kaiden had offered me flashed through my mind, and I knew that this was no innocent drink. Anger flared in me, hotter and sharper than any fear I had. “Put those down!” I snapped, my voice forceful. “Now.” Zane and Iry exchanged puzzled glances, then looked back at me, frowning. “Akira , what’s gotten into you?” Zane asked, setting his glass on the table anyway, likely more to humor me than out of real concern.

A black shape drifts around the corner of the alley, tires screeching on the wet pavement. The bike is massive. A beast of matte black steel. The rider doesn't slow down. He accelerates toward the Reapers blocking the exit. They scramble, diving off their bikes as the black Harley plows through them. Metal screeches against metal. Sparks shower the alley like fireworks. The rider skids to a halt ten feet from me. He plants a boot on the ground, stabilizing the bike. Drakon. He’s not wearing a helmet. His dark hair is plastered to his skull. His face is a mask of pure, concentrated violence.

I dried my hands on a towel and walked to the window, telling myself I was being dramatic. Rain had started falling, big fat drops hitting the glass. The streetlights made everything look blurry and yellow. And then I saw it. Matte-black Harley, silver claw marks scratched into the tank exactly like the ones I just painted today. Exactly like the ones Knox put on my old bike when we were seventeen and stupid in love. The bike slowed down… circled once… twice… then rolled to a stop right in front of my building. My stomach dropped to my feet. The rider sat there for a second, rain pouring off his helmet. Then he reached up, pulled it off slow, and shook out wet black hair.