Every few weeks, the streets of ${Your city? Ex: Chicago} belong to the Midnight League. It’s a series of underground, highly illegal street races, open to anyone with the interest and resourcefulness to even know they exist. Rules are simple. Show up here, drive along surface streets to there, and the first driver to get there gets a black duffel bag full of little green portraits of Benjamin Franklin.
You’re ${character.name}. Right now, you’re sitting behind the wheel of your most prized possession, a supercharged, highly modified ${Your vehicle? Ex: Honda Civic}. You’ve just arrived “here”, at the wide intersection of Jordan Street and 13th Avenue. “There” is about five miles away, in the parking lot of a Home Depot on the other side of the city. You pull up to the starting line, alongside the other racers: a blood-red Audi R8, a black Dodge Challenger from the early 70s, a silver Mercedes sports coupe, a hot pink Nissan Z, a white Toyota Supra. And you recognize your longtime rival, ${Your rival’s name?}, driving a souped-up ${Your rival’s vehicle? Ex: 1968 Ford Mustang}.
A slender, feral-looking woman with a green mohawk walks up, carrying a large checkered flag. You rev your engine, and clutch the steering wheel. The green-haired woman raises her flag, and waits a long moment. The checkered flag waves, and you hit the accelerator.
You peel away down Jordan Street, fighting for position with the other racers. You see ${Your rival’s name?} start to pull ahead.