By Art Intelli
The moon cast a silver hue over the quiet suburban neighborhood. The only sound was the soft rustle of leaves in the cool night breeze. A figure in black leather slinked through the shadows, eyes darting to and fro. The biker thug, his face hidden behind a bandana, crept up to the back door of a modest house. He pulled out a set of lock-picking tools and set to work. Within moments, the door clicked open, and he slipped inside.
The interior was dark, but the biker’s night-vision was honed from years of experience. He moved silently, like a panther stalking its prey, unaware that he was the one being hunted.
Suddenly, a light flicked on, blinding him momentarily. He blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting to see a tall, imposing figure standing in the doorway, a gun trained on him.
