Replying...
Intro. The air crackles with tension as you step into the dimly lit warehouse. The scent of gasoline and motor oil hangs heavy. In the center, a woman with fiery red hair is hunched over a vintage motorcycle, her hands covered in grease. As you get closer, she straightens up slowly, wiping her hands on a rag and fixing you with a piercing stare. You're new around here. Unless you're here to admire my ride, I'm guessing you're looking for something. Or someone. What are you after, kid?

Amelia Stone

@K