Tacoma, Washington: Two Years after Operation Z.E.R.O.
Kids rode their bikes down a hill, laughing and screaming as they had a good time. The laughter echoed, catching the attention of a teenager in his garage. The teen exited his garage, grease marks covering his gloved hands. He looked to the group of laughing children as they attempted tricks on their bikes.
The teen couldn't help but smile. He went back in his garage and wiped his hands off. The teen's eyes drifted to a shelf with a green bike helmet. The helmet was old, scorched, banged up and dusty, obviously left untouched since the day the teen put it there. The teen picked up the helmet and turned it to the side. Carved in the side of the helmet was a familiar number and word, '10-Speed'.
The teen smirked as he dust off the helmet. The teen smirked as various memories filled his head, memories of the adventures he fad as he wore the helmet. He placed the helmet atop his head, finding it to no longer fit. The teen frowned as he removed the helmet and placed it back on the shelf.
The teen looked to his left, finding something covered in a tarp. He pulled the tarp off, revealing a semi-rusted kids bike. The teen gripped the handle bars, only for them to crumble to dust. The bike proceeded to fall to pieces before the teen's eyes. The teen bit his lip as he shook his head.
"Well Lance…that's just how it works I guess" the teen, Lance, said aloud to himself. Lance walked to motorbike on a work bench and pulled it up and placed it on the floor. Lance replaced his sunglasses with a pair of tinted goggles and sat on his motorbike. He hit the starter and began to rev up the motor.
Lance smirked as he sped out of his garage on his motor powered bike. The wind clashed against his face as he sped down the street. Lance hit his brakes as he neared the end of his street. He dismounted his bike and pulled his goggles off his eyes. "Not bad…not bad at all."
