The name is Rider. Wolf Rider. My bike and me are synonomous. Infamous, even. Though the road is our home, our only home is bone. Wrap yer little noodle around that one, kids. Fair warning to all who wish to befriend me and my wheels...keep your distance. You see, I'm a dangerous man. A wanted man. Wanted, as in wanted dead by loan sharks, barkeeps and motel clerks all across this great nation. Let's just say I tend to over-spend, over-drink, and over-stay my welcome from time to time. This is why my likeness can only appear in cartoon form. Gotta protect the goods, and in this case baby, I'm as good as gold, and perhaps just about as valuable to the right people...I'm interested in Cutty Sark, cigarillos, my motorcycle, my medication, the road, and keeping my guts from being spilled all over said road in exchange for some bounty of dirty money by some low-life gambler's hired goon who has yet to cut a tooth, let alone learn the unwritten rules of a fair and clean fight.A few of the things I hate are wolves. Can't stand em...and they're practically everywhere! Filthy-in' up our convenience stores, daycares and DMVs. Turn your back on one and you're mongrel mince meat. They will always...ALWAYS rip you off or cheat you at any opportunity, and usually have to be schooled with a few frags to the head. I've never met a wolf I didn't like enough to bother killing. And oh ho ho, I've sure met my share. Get between me and a wolf, and there won't be much of you left for long, if you catch my drift.
