F'in Savages

"Someday this war is gonna end" he muttered from behind the chinbar of his helmet. The sweet aroma of petrol slithered up from the increasing large puddle beneath the bike. Gasoline had never really smelled like victory to him. It's heavy bouquet usually indicated yet another rusted tank, failed hose, or stuck float. None of which remotely resembled conquest. But even the threat of a crotch full of gas was not sufficient to abort this mission.

Errand boys sent by grocery clerks to collect a bill - prepping the latest batch of team Icon bikes for the 2011 Spring collection street shoot

Heading up the river with a completely rashed silencer and a precariously mounted gun camera - some would find the Icon method unsound