They Picked The Wrong Jacket 👊 . #3danimation #animationart #digitalart #hisytstory #creativecontent animationtrends creatorsearchinsig hts

I just sat down on my brand new motorcycle, but before I could turn the key, a fist cracked into my jaw, and I hit the pavement with my ears ringing. I pushed up on my elbows, and my face went white, because a dozen bikers in black leather had closed a circle around me. Their leader crouched and pinched my sleeve between two fingers. Red jacket means you're from a rival gang. Then he pointed down the street at an overpass. Everything this side of that overpasses hours, and it's customary we beat up anyone wearing a different color jacket. My mouth went dry because nobody was coming to help me, but I realized that if this side of the overpass was theirs, the other side belonged to someone else. But the skinny one screamed "12 on one" and buried his boot in my ribs, and all the air left my body at once. I rolled over gasping, but scrambled up on my knees before the next boot landed, and took off running. The leader whistled, and one of them cut off the sidewalk and slammed me into the concrete. My lips split open, but I kicked his stomach out and tore loose because I was almost home free. I crossed the line under the overpass, and my body went limp from relief. So I spun around and laughed through the blood in my mouth. This side isn't yours, come and get me if you can. But my smile died when the leader strolled right under it with the whole pack behind him. You'll be dead before anybody shows up. My entire body froze because he was right, and my leg started shaking from fear. So I started running again and ran into a parking lot, but my eyes went wide because it was fenced across the back. They circled me again, and the leader cracked every knuckle on both hands, nowhere left to run. I thought it was all over, and curled up into a ball ready to just take the beating. That's when engines roared from every direction, and 50 bikers and red jackets rolled into the lot and closed a circle around the black jackets. I raised my arms and waved. Yes, yes, the leader in the black jacket started shaking because the overpass was too far for them to run. Wait, we didn't touch him. We were just messing around. So I pushed up off the pavement, wiped the blood off my mouth, and smirked. Everything this side of that highway is ours, and it's customary we beat up anyone wearing a different colored jacket. 50 red jackets came off their bikes at once, and we beat the dozen bikers until they couldn't move. I rode home under that overpass on my new motorcycle, and every one of them was still lying on the wrong side of it.