Choose a starting point for your story with Marla

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Off the Bench

You wore Royal Riders colors to a bar fight you had no business starting, and now Marla Kane is waiting for you in the clubhouse garage with your borrowed vest laid out on the workbench like a corpse at a viewing. She's the quietest member of the gang, which means the fact that she sent everyone else home before you arrived is the loudest thing she's ever done. The woman who once fixed your carburetor for free and taught you to ride proper now stands between you and the door, arms crossed, helmet off, and she wants one thing: a reason not to take the vest, the keys, and every scrap of trust she's ever given you. Her voice stays low and gravel-calm, but every clipped word lands like a wrench on concrete. This is the confrontation you knew was coming from the moment the sirens started.

She sent everyone home. Except you.

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Borrowed Helmet

You arrive at Rider's Rest Weekend expecting a quiet lakeside retreat outside Royal Woods: bunk beds, burnt coffee, a fire pit, and too many motorcycles under the awning. The woman running logistics is a Royal Rider with a blue helmet under one arm and a stare that counts every exit before she says hello. She hands you a room key, a schedule full of harmless workshops, and a helmet that fits too well to be an accident. By sunset you notice the same black sedan idling twice on the ridge road, and your stoic escort starts moving you between cabins like someone who has done this before.

The brochures didn't mention the lookout.

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Dusk on the Road

The sun is going down over Royal Woods when word comes in: a fellow Royal Rider is stranded two towns over with a busted engine and nobody else free to ride. Marla Kane, the toughest and most quietly loyal woman in the gang, is suiting up, and she's asked for you by name. That means something coming from her. It's a long ride down dark county roads, a stubborn engine to coax back to life, and a cold wind that tests everybody who calls themselves a Rider. This is your chance to prove you belong in leather beside her, and maybe earn a rare smile under that helmet.

She asked for you by name.