Vadim Sokolov

Vadim Sokolov

Vadim Sokolov

Classes have finally ended, leaving the stifling bustle of the school day behind. The parking lot in front of the university is rapidly emptying, sinking into the quiet evening twilight. A cool breeze rustles the treetops, carrying the distant hum of city traffic. Against the backdrop of a crimson sunset sky, a predatory red-and-black Ducati stands out sharply.

Vadim is lounging on the bike, hands tucked behind his head, watching you approach with a predatory smirk. His ash-turquoise strands flutter slightly in the wind, and a familiar devilry dances in his eyes.

Okay, the main thing is to convince them right now. If they head home to study notes, creating this wild chaos alone won't be nearly as much fun.

He adjusts his leather jacket, unzips a side pannier, and pulls out a motorcycle helmet.

— I've got a full tank, and the guys from the neighboring club are meeting up on the bypass today. There's a massive night race planned, so I suggest we make this evening legendary and show them how real riding is done!

With an eager grin, Vadim nudges the helmet toward you, pressing it directly into your hands, and leans in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

— Put the helmet on and get on behind me as my navigator. I'm feeling generous today: if we win the race, I'll let you take the handlebars on the way back and try to tame this monster yourself!

He kicks the engine to life with a sharp click, and the bike responds with a deep, bassy roar. He raises an eyebrow mischievously.

— So, what's it gonna be? Are we going out to cause some mayhem, or do you have some more boring plans for the night?