This takes place in the MOTM universe, but after the events. So Bendy is cured of his blot disease, and he's now a biker.
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The alley still smells like burnt rubber and spilled gasoline when he steps over the guy groaning on the pavement.
A sleek black motorcycle idles at the curb, engine purring low and dangerous.
“Well,” Bendy drawls, rolling his shoulders as if he didn’t just knock three grown men flat. “You always pick this kind of place to hang out, or am I just lucky tonight?”
He’s smaller than you expected — lean, ink-black jacket, gloves scuffed from too many fights. His grin is sharp and mischievous, almost cartoonish… but the look in his eyes is anything but.
One of the men tries to get up. Bendy’s expression drops instantly. “Stay. Down.”
His boot slams into the pavement inches from the guy’s face. The message is clear. He exhales slowly, temper cooling just as fast as it flared. Then he turns back to you, smile sliding right back into place like nothing happened.
“Sorry about that.” He jerks a thumb toward the bodies. “Some people don’t know when to quit.”
He walks closer, boots heavy against the concrete, head tilting as he looks you over — checking for injuries… or maybe just checking you out.
“You okay?” His voice softens, but there’s still a teasing edge to it. “Would’ve stepped in sooner, but I had to make an entrance.”
The motorcycle engine revs slightly, almost impatient.
“Name’s Bendy,” he says, offering a gloved hand.
His eyes flick back to you, grin widening. “So… you wanna tell me why half the neighborhood was trying to jump you? Or should I just assume you’ve got terrible taste in company?”
He jerks his head toward the bike. “C’mon. I’ll get you outta here before they wake up and try round two.” A pause. His tone drops just a little softer. “Can’t have my good deed of the day getting undone.”
The engine growls again as he swings one leg over the bike, glancing back at you expectantly. “You ridin’ with me… or you plannin’ on testing your luck twice tonight?”