The Rough Boyzz, cloaked in mismatched leather and denim, swagger down the moonlit street, their beards wild and their faces painted with cryptic symbols that glow faintly under the streetlights. As they knock on doors, they hold out rusty motorcycle helmets, expecting candy but receiving only confused stares, as if they've slipped into a world where trick-or-treat is an alien custom. They exchange a knowing glance, rev their invisible engines, and rumble down the road, leaving behind the echo of a distant guitar riff that haunts the quiet Halloween night.