A Flash Fiction piece that will evolve into more, using one of my favorite characters (She is based on a good Friend)
Part 1
LUNAtics by Tom Tinney
©PiR8 Productions and Tom Tinney 2019
Disclaimer: Any similarity with any person, Living, dead, or undead (With the exception of my note above) , is strictly coincidental and only in your head.
(You ain’t that interestin’, Seek help.)
It was 2:30 AM, and there was moisture in the normally dry desert air along the Carefree highway just north of Scottsdale. The monsoon had been particularly surly since starting a full two months earlier than usual. Intermittent rains were short and intense, leaving roads slippery and flash floods whipping through normally dry gullies.
It was still refreshing. At least to the woman named Eilís, who was riding the big American V-Twin as it rumbled up the moonlit blacktop, headed back toward the bright city lights. The motor sang a throaty roar as she chewed through the miles. She wore no helmet, so her pale hair whipped along behind her, a glowing ethereal tail to her customized metal meteor. She twisted the throttle, coaxing more out of the 110 cubic inches of ten-year-old CVO Fatbob. The bike was an indulgence she had allowed herself., one of the few luxuries in an otherwise orderly routine and mission known only to her and those that had sent her.
She rounded a long curve and downshifted as she entered a stretch known for speed traps. The force of the wind lessened somewhat, and she took a deep breath. The bike rides reminded her of happier times, riding horseback through the forests and fields of her home. Not her current residence in Northern Phoenix, but her real home, in the elven realm of Ruitheanas-Sidhe. A realm she was banished from until she succeeded in the human world.
Her mood darkened and the two-wheeled steed paid the price for those memories. She gunned the throttle and the bike responded. A mechanical salve to dull its mistresses’ growing anger.
The battle of the Mana-breech, led by that maniac Hitler, the Mages of the Dark Realm and their rabid worshippers from the human world. Lives lost, trusts broken, and a family torn apart. All of those events and people led to her current exile to the human realm. And her life navigating and infiltrating the world of bikers. Outlaw, 1%’er and the other 99% that took to the road, and events, to show their unity and Brother/sister-hood with the other kindred spirits who lived in the wind. They rode hard. They partied hard. They took her in willingly without asking too many questions. They had become her family and she enjoyed their company and support.
But not that night. It was just her, the bike, and the road after a twelve-hour shift managing the event bar and bands at a large biker bash. It had been a party for the ages. A charity benefitted, the people had a great memory to talk about for years to come, and her staff had done very well in tips. She should have been in a much better mood, but she felt that familiar twinge on the back of her neck. The one that said danger was near. She’d learned not to ignore the twinge. And her mission, as well as her natural instinct, would drive her toward the problem rather than allow her to run from it. She twisted her head to the right and left, looking into the moonlit desert on either side. The twinge was less intense than when she looked at the lights rapidly growing closer.
The twinge became an itch. Into the city it was, then, to scratch her itch.
Part 2
Eilís was getting concerned. She was following her route back to the bike event. It’s where the itch was taking her. She passed hundreds of motorcycles still leaving the event, heading out as the last of the alcohol ran out due to her shutting down the bars an hour and a half earlier.
As she rolled along at 30 mph, she saw other leather clad folks walking or slowly riding to nearby campgrounds or hotels. It looked normal enough to her. She came to a smooth stop at a sign and looked around slowly. She used the toe shifter to put the bike in neutral. It idled in a familiar “Potato, potato” rhythm. She blocked out the pleasing sound and listened to the world around her.
The itch was there, but it stayed the same no matter which direction she looked. She was in the middle of “it”, whatever “it” was.
The Monsoon clouds parted and she was bathed in moonlight. She hung her head.
“Please don’t be that,” she said under her breath, torn between her desire to come a step closer to fulfilling her mission and knowing more innocent lives could be lost that night.
A howl broke the night air. Eilís reached under her own leather coat and pulled out a short blade, looking very much like a Japanese Kadachi, about 14 inches long. It was silvery, with runes etched along its length, and the moonlight danced along it’s razor sharp edge. Eilís looked around for the origin of the sound and saw a group of bikers, men and women, drinking cheap beer, talking loudly and howling at the moon in unison, then laughing as they continued walking and weaving toward the campground. She looked at her mythril and mana-infused blade, but it gave none of its usual signs of danger.
Eilís looked around and realized she needed to be able to properly hunt. That meant focusing her abilities and mana-based magic. It also meant she would have to drop the camouflage glamour that she continually cast. She looked human enough, with bright blue eyes and high cheekbones. She was very attractive by human or Elven standards. But elven ears are rather pointy and the Mana-tattoos, that marked important events in her 1500 years of life, would glow and sing at the most inopportune times. So a glamour was necessary. But it also interfered with her natural and enhanced abilities as a hunter. That night was going to be a hunt, so she dispelled the mana-based veil. She reached under her jacket and pulled at two straps. Her concealed blades’ scabbards both dropped from their resting places along her jacket’s spine. She twisted each until it was comfortable, tightening the belts, the longer blade on her left side, ready to be cross-drawn, and the short on her right hip. Once they were in place, Eilís eased the clutch and rolled the throttle, turning left onto a side street. She would cruise in an ever-expanding circle until she picked up the trail of her unseen quarry.
Part 3
A scream broke the night air. Eilís knew it wasn’t a reveler. It was pure terror. She gunned the bike, taking the next two corners fast as she braked, leaned, gunned, and smoothly handled the bike on the rain slickened road.
Just into her side of the road, but still on the sidewalk, she saw the woman that had screamed. It was one of her bartenders, Britney. She was a feisty redhead who dressed to show off her young body, flirted way too much, and went a little too far with some of the more hardened customers. Eilís had called in her team of bouncers more than once to escort an intoxicated patron away that had “misinterpreted” Britney’s behavior for more interest than she actually had.
At that moment, her need for attention may have just cost her life. Britney was on her knees, looking away from Eilís, her hand held out toward her attacker. It was Eilís’ initial fear realized. A beast crouched near the girl growling and grunting. If Britney tried to rise or crawl away, he would growl and snap at her. She didn’t know what to do except scream and let her own fear rule her. That’s what the beast was really feeding on.
Eilís gunned the bike and swore as she realized beast and victim were on the wrong side of the road for her to execute an effective moving attack. She pulled her longer Katana, hanging on her left side, with her non-throttle left hand and held it aloft. To use it, she would have to swing across her body, over the handlebars and mirrors.
“Traako!” Eilís cursed as she held the throttle steady, frustrated with her dilemma. “Well, John always said to think outside the box, so, let’s make this work, eh?”
Elves are quick. Stronger than a human being, mana-enhanced, and dexterous to boot. Eilís tossed the handle of the Katana to her right hand, as she released the throttle. She then grabbed the throttle with her left hand, twisting at an odd riding angle. She wouldn’t want to try to ride like that on a curvy road, but for a straight-line run, she felt balanced and comfortable. She twisted the throttle and gave the big V-Twin all the air and gas it could handle. It responded with the torque it was known for and leapt down the road, gaining speed.
The beast looked up. It had been focused on Britney, and there had been hundreds of motorcycle riding up and down the various streets, so it probably hadn’t paid attention to one more machine. It should have.
Eilís couldn’t read its mind, but she did see its eyes. They registered surprise. She was doing 80 mph by then and her blade was held out steady and level. It passed within an half of inch of Britney’s head. At that instant, Eilís snapped it upward, at an angle. The impact as it hit the hairy beast jarred her arm as the mana-enhanced Mythril blade cleaved through the beast’s lower jaw, snout, and into it’s skull. It exited in a clean line at its mid-right ear. That half of creature’s head had barely started to fall away when Eilís made the decision to sacrifice her pride and joy for the greater good. She pushed back and up with her feet, leaping off her ride as its gyroscopic properties kept it upright and moving forward. Eilís felt a pang of loss, but she knew a guy that would fix her baby up good as new.
She landed on her leather heels and slid, already twisting toward the severely wounded beast. She pumped her legs and charged into it. Even with half its head gone, it swiped at her with razor sharp claws. The battle commenced.
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