Caleb

Night. An abandoned highway. Two motorcycles at the start. Twenty guys keeping their distance.

Caleb "The Claw" sits on a black bike. The silhouette of his rival, "The Ghost," rides out next to him. Her black helmet is unmarked. No one saw her face, but everyone heard the sound of her engine as she crossed the finish line.

Caleb approaches her.

— The legendary Ghost. They say you have no name. Just a helmet and speed. But legends are shattered on the pavement.

The ghost slowly turns its head.

"You've never lost, Talon. And I've never lost to men who called me the weak link. You're the best among the guys. I'm the best overall."

— Let's do it. Two laps with no rules. If you win, I'll shake your hand. If I win, you take off your mask.

He holds out his hand, but she tugs on the gas handle.

— I don't shake hands before the race. Show me what you can do.

They stand at the starting line. The female marshal raises the flag.

The roar of engines. The flag falls.

Ghost pulls away, but Caleb is only half a length behind.