It gleamed in the buzzing lights of the garage, the glossy black paint looking deadly against the shiny silver of the handlebars. I turned to see Paul, the local mechanic holding a pair of keys out to me.
I traced the smooth surface of the bike and felt a buzz of excitement run through me; I had been waiting for this motorbike for weeks. His blue uniform was stained with oil and I noticed he had some crumbs in his grey beard.
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Saying goodbye to my parent hadn't exactly been a tearful one, in fact they were almost pushing me towards the plane.
Matthew was reluctant to let me go, he had hugged me before kissing my forehead.
"Thanks Paul." I called as he walked away muttering something like 'deathtrap' under his breath. Nicole was my only friend here in New York, not that I was complaining but we had nothing in common.
I took the bike by the handlebars and dragged it outside, careful not to scratch the new paint job. " Nicole cried desperately as I climbed onto the bike. She spent most of her time commenting on how all the boys she had gone out with had six packs and that . The speed of the motorbike took my breath away, I wasn't driving, and I was flying. The bike was like a dog on a lead, it followed my every movement, swerving around cars and zipping through traffic lights before anyone had a chance to blink.
Back in flashback city, baby Matt and baby Elektra’s wild fling of stolen cars, break-and-enters, and slow motion sex in an abandoned boxing ring leads him to reveal more to her than he has to anyone about his past, his father, and—through their sparring—his abilities.