Cyber Motorcycle Novels & Stories

I hear another voice, away from the camera lenses. “Okay, Wes is going to send you his work so far. Can you carry on, Cody. We’re still on air and the network is crappy,” “Okay,” Cody said as he received a notification. Opening the file sent, it instantly took him to different files uploading themselves. Cody clicked on a few of them because the exact same bike from the biker came into view. It had the designs and no number plate. “No number plate,” he mutters, scanning the bike from the live footage. A few shops showed up.

"I just saw a huge black wolf on the path. That's all." "Were you alone?" "No, with Kessler the Idiot, but he left me stranded." "He did that? What a jerk." "Yeah, he is. Where's your car? I just want to get home." "I have a motorcycle," he says, pointing to a Ninja-style motorcycle a few meters away. "Wow, it's nice." "Don't mind riding on a motorcycle, do you?" "Not at all."

Harper could not let that happen. He put on his headset and said, "First, let's make those off-road vehicles stop running." Then, with a loud roar, two big motorcycles cut through the traffic, standing out from the cars. Each motorcycle had two riders, darting through the cars like they were playing a game of tag. When they got close to an off-road vehicle, the person on the back would take out a metal rod and smash the corners of the windows. The glass cracked, and with another swing, it shattered!

A cloud of dust rises as a sleek black motorcycle roars down the desolate highway. Its engine growls with power, propelling the bike forward with unstoppable force. The rider, known to many as Dante the Lycan hunter, sports a rugged leather jacket adorned with countless patches and insignias. His eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses, He exudes an air of mystery and danger. As he approaches a weathered roadside bar, the sound of his engine echoes through the open landscape halting at a bar.

I stormed out of there, I want to get this mission over with. I strode into my garage, the bright fluorescent lights casting a dull glow. My eyes locked onto the sleek, black motorcycle parked in the center of the room. It was a rare, customized model, designed for power and agility, and only top mercenaries could get their hands on a motorcycle like this. But, as it is, only I have this prototype. A hell of a masterpiece.

"So beautiful!" "Ms. Thompson... You couldn't see her face with the helmet on," Tom said, somewhat exasperated. "I was talking about the motorcycle! It's a Yamaha Sr400 classic edition. You should know your bikes!" Diana's eyes gleamed. Tom:... He realized he was not well-informed in this area. In the passenger seat, Mitbahl propped up his chin, gazing at the disappearing figure of the motorcycle. A faint hint of coldness flickered in his eyes.

Stepping out of the bustling nightclub, Mac Vu leaned forward instead of the warm-up step, the old wound was still a bit numb, sometimes it still throbbed for a few moments, causing his eyebrows to wrinkle clearly. Motorcycle is the steed that accompanies him for many years of rolling in the gangster world, although big brother Nhi Lang has repeatedly offered to ask him to change to a convertible or any other famous brand, but he still refused. , he said: robes can be changed, but steeds cannot. However, his motorcycle, which is considered to be an antique, has an extremely terrifying sound, wherever he goes, people feel snail's skin. Anyone who complains he responds that: yes, people like t

Sunshine was shining on the body of the motorcycle, making it dazzling. Catherine elegantly executed a leg sweep and straddled this sleek silver-black motorcycle with ease. "Boom, boom, boom..." As the throttle accelerated instantly, the motorcycle emitted a low roar, resembling the roar of a dormant dragon suddenly awakening. Catherine released the accelerator, and the car shot out at lightning speed. Her stunning figure left a lasting impression, leaving people in awe. At a remote village on the outskirts of Casier. No one would have thought a giant black market was hidden underneath this remote village.

Warrick Luna trails behind me as I stride from the house, heading for my custom- designed motorcycle. The salt air is kissing it into a bucket of rust, but nothing to do about that in these parts. My brothers and I worked on my baby for a solid year, testing and perfecting each change until we hit the sweet spot. She’s a vintage Harley, chopped low and mean like me. A chrome skull and crossbones leer from the handlebars, and the engine’s a loud growl, warning shifters and humans alike to get the fuck out of the way, ‘cause I’m going to blow through them, past them or over them. The frame’s been converted to a rigid hardtail, we added eight inches to the frame tube, and the steering neck rake

We stepped outside, the cool morning air a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere inside. As I looked around, my eyes fell on a sleek black motorcycle parked near the entrance. I whistled appreciatively. "You can get this awesome bike but can't... get a good porridge?" Caleb chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. "This bike's name is Shadow. And for the record, my cooking skills are just fine. It's the porridge that's lacking."