Thief With A Bike ~ Krii7y

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On the freeway near Chicago, there was a lone biker in the swarm of cars that buzzed around him like angry wasps. John Keyes, a thief who left his hometown with nothing but his cash, and clothes.

He told no one where he was going.

He had been stealing from everyone in that small town, and the police couldn't sniff onto his trail, But that wasn't what scared him away. Someone had been murdering people in his wake, making it seem like he was killing, as well as stealing. He wasn't. He had never wanted to harm another being, he stole to survive. So as long as he had his theft charges when they did snuff him out, he would have first degree murder... and be sent to death row.

His plan was to leave the town and never return. He would move to Chicago with the amount he had stolen, and keep a small job. If the cops found him, he went to Las Vegas. Then Phoenix, And New York, Eventually Canada.

Maybe.

He actually hadn't thought that far ahead, Canada's Nice right?

Maybe Mexico was a better option?

However that didn't matter for now, he was sure the cops weren't anywhere near his trail. What did matter was his beauty's fuel mileage.

Of course riding a motorcycle across the country was not his smartest idea, but he had done it, and done it proud. Right now he was almost running his beauty on empty, which definitely wasn't good.

John had told no one his real name, he was under the alias of Kryoz. It won't last long but it would have to work for now.

He pulled off the freeway at a gas station, as his motorcycle hummed it's soothing, repetitive tune. John liked sports bikes, for looks mostly, but his baby had never let him down. He had bought the bike new when he was younger, and dumber with his money, but never regretted it. A Kawasaki ZX-6R, or 636. he bought it, oddly enough, orange. He painted it black, and hand painted the fairings a fading pastel blue-purple.

That bike is his baby.

And he'd go out of his way to hunt anyone who touched her.

Of course the bike has now seen better days, countless crash's happened with her, yet she still hums her sweet tune.

He rolled up next to the pump, and turned her off, straddling her while looking at his phone. "12:30?" He mumbled to himself, before looking at his notifications. Of course there were none, no one knew him so his phone never buzzed, or got a call.

He kicked out the stand and slid off his bike, beginning the process of filling up his sweet baby. He had to hold the car lock thing on the pump because no one ever thought of conveniences for motorcyclists.

Once he was done, he got back on it, and turned her on, listening to her tune, before rolling into a parking spot. He was praying for a coffee right now, and his bike needed a break. He had been driving all night, and it's not easy to drive a motorcycle on the freeway in daylight. Night is much worse.

He stood beside his bike for a moment, debating whether to remove his helmet or not, but decided not to. John had been hesitant with buying a helmet, he wanted a hand painted, and good helmet, but he didn't want to ruin it. After arguing in his mind, he bought a good one, crossed his fingers, and sanded. Thankfully his hand painted helmet was beautiful (People give him lots of complements) and has never earned a scratch.

As he moved down the paved sidewalk in front of the gas station, he noticed another bike. A pure pearl white ZX-6R, but the model was heavily modified into a stunt bikers dream. Not an inch of the bike was a color, or shade, that wasn't pearl white. He had never seen anything like it. The bike had no dents, or scratches anywhere, not a single scar from an unwanted dismount. The only pieces of the bike that weren't white were buttons, small switch's, and places that just couldn't have paint.

Obviously the person was a show off, but that didn't even account for the small gems ingrained into the fairings of the bike. They lined the edge of the fairing, and formed into letters on the side. You didn't have the look hard to see what it said, ZX-6R in small letters above a large 7. 

That's not normal for sure.. how did they even stay with what that bike probably does?

Don't paint me as a fool, I know what stunters do, and sometimes it doesn't end pretty.

It was a rule for stunters, 'ride the bike, end up off the bike. Easy.' Could be said in better terms, but that's the gist of it.

People had asked John if he stunted, because his bike was modified for it. To be honest? He had planned on stunting... at one point, but somewhere along the way, with countless broken bones and bruises, he simply decided it wasn't worth it.

He simply gapped at the bike. How could anyone pull that off? Are the gems real?

"She's Pretty Isn't She?"