Here's the introduction of my short story. I think it's pretty good...
Wheels on pavement and the whirring of a motor sounded and could be heard several hundred yards away. A barren rock was as much beauty that could be seen, and even rocks were few and far between. This territory belonged to Chief Falk Lymowkem, a cruel man that had an iron fist lied down over his fiefs. He has eyes on every part of his land some say, others whisper that he has ears also that can pick out any sound of back talking about him. Whatever anyone believes, one thing is known for sure, don’t mess with Falk.
A motorcycle could finally be distinguished. It was quickly approaching the trade town of Talka. A lone rider on a bike, their face unknown, hidden by a dark green visor on an equally dark green helmet. This lone wanderer seemed to have some business in the town, or perhaps Talka was just a bump in their predetermined path.
No matter what they were doing, or how long they’d be staying, Talka was no place you would want to be. Unless you’re a thief, crook, pirate, mercenary, Blazing Morning solder, or ex-soldier.
The unknown rider was soon outside of the towns entrance. The way in was guarded by several ‘toll collectors.’ They were armed with nothing but makeshift weapons. Some had clubs, others crowbars and the rest steel or copper pipes.
The possible leader of this group said to the lone rider, “Hey baby,” as the rider could easily be noticed as a woman, “that’s a nice bike. Mind if I take you for a ride on it?” The others laughed. The leader continued in a flirtatious way. “I can't let you through here unless you pay the fee which for you, won't be money.”
The group had now surrounded her, she still had both hands on the grips and didn't move.
The bandits kicked and slid their hands across the shiny motorcycle. All the while making disgusting comments towards the female rider. One came up and asked, “What’s your name sweetie?” and reached for her head. Grabbing the helmet he threw her to the ground making a thud noise. The helmet was dirty now but had no cracks in it.
Another one came up from behind and tried to take the helmet off. As if on instinct she grabbed his hand and threw him to the group, twisting his arm painfully while he was down. Now the others started getting defensive but still laughing.
The lone woman let go of the bandits arm, ceasing the screams of pain.
The others readied their weapons for an attack. Making fake lunges in attempts to try and scare her, laughing while they were doing so. The woman resolutely stood her ground, her expressions masked by the helmet.
Finally one of them made a move. He used his crowbar to smash her helmet. Swiftly the rider disarmed the bandit, while shifting her weight to throw him to the ground. Then another tried to strike, only to be disarmed and thrown to the ground like the previous one.
Next, two or three tried at once, all with no success. Soon four or five, but all to no avail. The fact that they were being beaten by a woman aggravated them greatly. The once playful laughs had turned to angry yells.
As if she'd had enough, the rider reached to her side and pulled out a square device with a handle in the center. A click of a button and the device had mechanically changed into a blade.
The bandits had grown only angrier. The advantage of weapons had been lost.
Several charged with weapons raised high, leaving their torso wide open. The lone rider, with one hand, sliced the first bandit’s chest. Blood splattered out, and the corpse crumpled to the ground. The others had no time to react and met the same fate. In mere seconds they had lost many bandits and the rest seemed to grow hesitant.
The rider gave no sign of stopping and began cutting down. Starting with the ones not paying enough attention. They seemed to be looking for a way to escape, giving her ample time to cut them down.
After the small fry were finished off, the rider was wasting too much time and, as lightning fast as an old cowboy gunslinger, whipped out her gun. It had a long barrel with a small handle fit for her hand.
Firing eight shots, each bullet hit straight and true in their chest. That was the last of the common thieves, all that was left was the leader who was sprawled out on the ground like a frightened child.
Walking over to him, the woman biker grabbed him by his collar and brought him within inches of the helmets visor. He couldn't see anything besides his scared facial expression, making him even more unnerved. Flipping up her visor he could see nothing but empty auburn eyes, seemingly stealing his very soul from his body.
“The day of judgment is nigh,” the woman said. “You caught me on a good day so I’m going to let you live. If you do one thing for me. Tell Reeve, the Harbinger of Death is out to get him.”
