Mask Rider Bike Novels & Stories

Marcos asked, trying to connect the dots. “It’s a long story. I’ll send you the full report, including where she is right now. We’re leaving the hospital, so head straight home.” “Got it. Send everything. On my way.” Marcos strode to the garage. The man lived for bikes. Total bad-boy vibe: leather jacket, gloves, dark shades. He grabbed the keys from his pocket, swung a leg over his BMW S1000RR, snapped on the helmet, and the beast roared to life as he shot out of the driveway.

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.

He already had a racing bike, but he wanted to get one that could go on road and off road for gravel roads and trails. "I found the perfect early birthday present for you," Emily announced. "The Ventana Nemesis." Byron was in the middle of working something out on his computer, so he didn't look up right away. When he did, the motorcycle of his dreams was staring him in the face from the glossy catalog. "It's 400 CC engine will take you anywhere across the most rugged terrain," Emily continued, "And maybe I'll get one for myself too... a smaller one, like this Ventana Minion."

"It will dissolve if it catches a scent of blood. If you get slashed up in an accident or intentionally and start to bleed, then the glamour will start to unravel until your body can heal itself." I shrugged. "That's all ?" "Girl, that's enough to get you expelled and get you killed if you're not careful." "I'll be fine." Magda smiled. "Stupid or brave. Can't say which." "Both," said Liam. She glared at him. "You're not much better, helping her with this folly." He smiled. "Family." She breathed harder. "Whatever. The spell won't take until tomorrow night. Until then, you'll keep projecting yourself. Try not to get yourself killed

The seat behind him is wide, steady, designed to carry weight without complaint. Reaper’s bike is sleek and predatory, black with flashes of emerald striping that catch the light when he moves. It looks fast even standing still. Asmodeus’s machine is a monster, tall, heavy, built like it could plow through a wall and keep going. Thick tires and reinforced frame nothing decorative, all for function. Viking’s bike gleams like a relic pulled from legend, dark steel with gold detailing etched like runes along the sides. It hums faintly, like it’s alive.

“Yeah. I’m opening my own biker clothing shop soon. Maybe have a clothing line, eventually but I figure with all the clubs here and in the surrounding area, I can drum up a pretty decent sized clientele and make a good living for myself. Plus, it gets me out of my mother’s house.” “What’s wrong with your mother’s house?” Matteo asked. I rolled my eyes. “Well for starters, my mother lives there,” I commented, at which all the guys laughed. I didn’t offer any other explanation, and they seemed to sense that I wouldn’t, so they didn’t pry at what kinds of clothes would you want to sell in your shop?” Mike asked. “Demin and leather and maybe a little bit of lace for the ladies.

Now he had an amused look on his face. “It’s fine, I’ll bring a date.” Ok, something about his statement struck a nerve. I am not admitting that the idea of Brax with another girl just rubs me the wrong way. I was about to throw another smart comment his way when he stepped away from the bike he had been leaning on. I was able to get a better look at it then. No. Fucking. Way! A ghost silver R1 with dragon scale graphics!

Four matte-black motorcycles roared through the campus gates, students instinctively stepping aside like a force of nature had arrived. The riders didn’t weave or slow. They moved in perfect sync, an unbreakable formation that screamed control and danger. Missy’s heart thudded in her chest. The first rider was lean, all sharp angles and cold eyes. The second had a scar across his neck, visible even under his dark collar. The third was broader, his arms completely sleeved in ink, sunglasses hiding his expression. And then there was the fourth. He rode slightly behind the others, but somehow, he was the one Missy couldn’t look away from.

The roads were already deserted even tough it wasn't that late in the night. Out of nowhere, a masked bike rider came at Razzak and snatched her bag. " Oh my god! Thief.... It's a thief. Help! Police! " We turned instinctively and began running after the bike, which was impossible but were we expected to give up without even trying. "Not on my watch moroon! " A figure appeared in a black leather jacket and with one single kick, was able to topple the rider. The bike crashed on a lamp post and the rider flew to the over side of the road.

* Liam found himself focusing on something else. He was looking out to see if there was any movie being shot nearby or if he had stepped into a location. But his search was futile, because none of that was happening. *He doesn't look dressed for a masquerade party either. Weirdo.* He almost spat out as the button was let lose. "I'm sorry." The stranger said before continuing on his race. Liam paused and looked back. *He seems to be in a hurry somehere.* He thought and was about to continue his sprint when he realised he wanted to do something before he bumped into the masquerade mask stranger.