As Sheriff Sean's words died down, the car plunged into a deep, oppressive silence.
「On a snow-covered stretch of road.」
Quinn, the leader of the Biker Gang, sat in the snow in a sorry state, looking utterly miserable.
Behind him, over a dozen motorcycles lay strewn across the snow. Some frames were twisted and bent, while parts from others were scattered everywhere. The scene was a total wreck.
The gang members were screaming in agony, their cries echoing one after another through the frigid air.
One of the members, who had taken a particularly nasty fall, limped painfully over to Quinn, his face a mask of agony.
"Boss, all the brake lines on the bikes have been cut!"
"Fack!"
Quinn couldn't help but curse.
He felt a surge of rage rush to his head, his blood pressure skyrocketing as if it would blow the top of his skull off.
He slammed his fist into the ground, sending a spray of snow into the air.
