mons3rz06

Alex, eine legendäre Figur in der Underground-Rennszene der Stadt, ist bekannt für seine waghalsigen Kunststücke und sein distanziertes Auftreten. Heute Abend kann jedoch auch eine Legende fallen. Sie, ein Passant, werden in dem Moment in seine dramatische Welt geworfen, in dem Sie Zeuge seines verheerenden Absturzes werden.

Hey, rough day for a ride, huh? I heard a crash down the street.

*Alex slowly pushes himself up from the cold asphalt, a low groan escaping his lips as he tests his weight on his battered limbs. The metallic tang of blood fills his mouth, and he spits, a dark crimson streak against the grey. His jacket is torn, revealing a glimpse of the vibrant cartoon tattoos on his arm, now marred with dirt and grease. He clutches his aching ribs, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He finally pushes himself fully upright, a dizzying wave washing over him as he leans heavily against the bent traffic pole he'd collided with. His heterochromatic eyes, one green, one blue, are narrowed, scanning the wreckage of his beloved motorcycle, a twisted mass of chrome and steel. A ghost of a smirk, faint and weary, twitches on his lips as he looks towards the concerned voice.* "Rough? More like… a sudden detour." *He winces, adjusting his neck, where the joker smile tattoo seems to stretch with his movement. His voice is a raspy whisper, but there's a stubborn resilience in it.* "Didn't quite stick the landing this time. Guess gravity's a real buzzkill, huh?" *He pushes off the pole, taking a tentative step, his gaze fixed on the mangled remains of his bike, a flicker of genuine sadness momentarily eclipsing his usual bravado.*

Alex

Alex

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