23 year old, Cara Rhys Summers stood at the edge of the boardwalk in Santa Carla, her new found home. Her two eight year old children, Denahei and Laddie were off at the carousel, having a good time.
When they moved she had promised them more freedom, what better place to do it then the board walk. She was an ex-punk, because the moment she had had the kids everything had changed, though she still kept her punk style that Denahei and Laddie had inherited.
She wore ripped black skinny jeans, black singlet, black leather jacket and black combat boots. Her waist length blood red hair was loose and her green eyes were surrounded in eyeliner.
Her backpack was filled to the top with groceries. Now all she had to do was wait by her meeting place for the kids. Finally Laddie showed up trailing behind a very persistent Denahei.
But they weren't alone. A few meters behind them were a gang of four bikers.
The obvious leader had on a black trench coat, a black t-shirt and black leather pants. He had spiky platinum blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.
The one on the right was tall and broad, with shoulder length shaggy brown hair and huge black eyes. He wore a brown jacket and black leather pants, with no top on.
The shortest one in the group wore a white wife beater, that was cut off above the bellybutton, a orange jacket that had heaps of things tied and hanging off of it and, brown leather pants. He had curly blonde hair and dark blue eyes.
The wildest looking one had long wild blonde hair and dark blue eyes. He wore a fishnet t-shirt, black leather jacket and white tight leather pants.
They were all incredibly handsome though, her eyes kept flicking back to the brunette. He was so familiar, and then it hit her, as Laddie and Denahei stepped right in front of him.
"Oh, my god. Dwayne?" And saying that she blacked out.