Bloody Brigade Beatdown

The sound a two-stroke engine, you sigh contently.

Music to your ears.

You don’t know what it is about these engines’ purr that just makes you feel at ease. It’s the only thing in the world capable of calming you when things go south. Ever since you were a child, when your father fired it up in front of you for the first time; it was love at first sound, the most beautiful melody you’ve ever heard, and from then onwards you fostered that love with your dad, until it came the fated day where he passed it down to you when you turned sixteen.

When news hit that your father had been struck by an incurable disease at the time, you stood by his side until the very end. By the time of his passing, you were already eighteen, nobody in your family wanted to pick you up because of your more than troubled childhood and teen years, and you were too old to be placed for adoption, so you ran, you took the bike, his jacket, and off into the sunset you rode.

It has been six years since then.

You’ve managed to follow your initial dream of roaming around the country, seeing the sights, both from mother-nature and manmade, but now you just roam around. After gazing at everything you could, you realized there was nothing else for you, you had left your life behind after a bad event that left you with next to nothing, and instead of taking the things you did have, you abandoned them.

So now you just drift aimlessly, riding the long stretches connecting one state to the other in almost a trance, living without a goal, hoping that maybe one day you’ll find some meaning to your life, just something to make it a little more exciting and meaningful other than taking care of your father’s legacy, something to look forward to.

You’re probably wondering, how do you even earn your pay to keep traveling when all you took were the clothes on your person, a jacket, and the bike.

Well, you street race, your girl might be a very old one, but she’s still plenty fast, so winning races gets you going, it also helps that everyone instantly underestimates you because of your old UJM, as well as other means.

Used to traveling these long stretches of road, you mentally know your bike’s starting to run low on gas, So, stopping on the next rest area to refill is the best course of action, which is exactly what you plan on doing. It wouldn’t hurt to maybe get a drink and some snacks too off of its local bar.

The trip for it isn’t very long, and soon enough a little cacophony of buildings in the near horizon enters your field of view. A gas station, a bar, a little market, and some more make the little capitalistic community. Rather than go to the gas station, you end up gunning straight for the bar instead, yeah, you said you needed to refill the gas, but turns out you were hungrier than you though, so refilling your belly first won’t hurt anybody.

And you also could do with a drink.

With only one open spot in front of the bar, you park right beside a solitary black Road King sandwiched between a good dozen or so other smaller sportster and soft-tail Harleys, all spaced out like they were giving space to the bigger bike in the middle. Taking a gander at the massive motorcycle by your side, you notice the wheel cover had the word Queen crudely painted over the work King.
Weirdly enough, there’s only these Harleys around and nothing else, no cars, trucks, or other bikes, and the outside of the bar and gas station look like a ghost town, with the exception of the old dog leaning his wooden chair against the wall of the building, with a Stetson covering his eyes and arm dangling to the side, clearly asleep.

Turning from the dog to the bar itself, the place is as simple and stereotypical as it can get, a square building painted in dark colors and a set of double doors with little circular see through windows, and dark colored windows. You haven’t even gotten out of the bike, and the smell of alcohol is already overbearing, just the way you like it.

Turning it off and taking the keys, you climb out and strut towards the door, only stopping to check yourself through the Road King’s pristine polished tank’s reflection, and adjust your sunglasses. Pushing the doors open, you’re greeted with a rather interesting sight; and no, it’s not the clichéd bar on the side of the road that you’ve seen many times, the dim lighting, the dark colors, wooden tables and chairs, booths to the side with cushioned U-shaped seats; or the regular country music that you’ve heard a thousand times in places like this.

No, it’s how the entire bar is occupied entirely by hyenas.

All decked out in nearly all leather clothing, from jackets, to vests, to gloves, pants, belts and even spats for those that weren’t completely barefoot, most adorned with metal spikes and studs, with the name and logo proudly stitched on the back of their jackets.

Bloody Brigade, written over the silhouette of a stylized blood crimson feral hyena of the same species as them.

Oh boy, you’re so scared; your eyes are nearly rolling to the back of your head behind your sunglasses.

Many times you’ve dealt with bike gangs before, a lot of them are push overs, give them just the tiny bit of shit and they back off instantly, some have a bit of bark to them, but just bark, and no bite, bonus points for at least trying to fight. Although, you’ve never bumped into a pack of hyenas before, and judging from their sizes they’re all spotted, and female, which might make things a tad more complicated if shit hits the fan.

Pulling your glasses, you fold and put it away inside your jacket’s inner pocket. As your feet move you towards the counter, the whole gang’s eyes can be felt watching you like a piece of meat, and they don’t even try to hide their gazes, just staring at you, their meals and drinks forgotten as you near the counter and sit down on a stool right beside the biggest hyena of them all.

A whistle later and the barman is right there, looking a little worried as his eyes jump from you to the 7.0ft tall hyena sitting right by your side, clearly worried for you. You just give him a smirk and wave a hand dismissively, signing the poor cat that there’s nothing to worry about, and orders your drink, an entire bottle of whiskey, the best he’s got.

Nodding stiffly, the feline goes the shelf behind him, and grabs sealed bottle, and a glass shot cup, before returning and setting the beverage in front of you. Thanking him, you grab the bottle, uncork the screw, and unload its contents on the small shot cup right to the tip.

“Cheers for me” – You chuckle to yourself, before downing the whiskey in one gone. The alcohol burns down your throat, searing everything all the way down, making you close your eyes and shake your head off the sensation.

When you move to pick the bottle again, however, your hand only manages to reach for air, curling your fingers for anything to grab onto, you feel nothing but your own gloved palm. Opening your eyes you find out that there’s no bottle of whisky where you left it. Obviously wondering where it might’ve gone, the bottle is suddenly slammed down back onto the table with a loud thud, with only a fifth of its content left, and a gloved, furry, clawed hand holding it by the neck before letting go.

Looking to the hyena by your side, you watch the wild canine with her lips apart and sharp teeth on display, using a claw to clean anything lodged in-between her teeth, completely uncaring of your presence. Turning to the barman, he just holds his hands down together over his apron, giving you a wide eyed look, and swallowing the lump forming in this throat. You smile and ease his worries; this is just a minor inconvenience.

“Gimme another one” – You order, and the barman quickly does a 180 and moves back to the freezer. In turn, you take the nearly finished bottle by the neck and put it right in front of the hyena, who paused cleaning her teeth just to look at you from the corner of her eyes, before setting them straight ahead and resuming to her ‘dental hygiene’, if you can even call it that.

Soon, there’s another sealed bottle planted right in front of your face, hopefully this time just for you and no one else. Pouring a shot, and keeping your eyes open this time, you take the chance to order food as well, a snack, anything is fine as long as it’s edible. The bartender nods and walks away back into the kitchen to grab whatever for you to eat, and meanwhile you keep drinking your whiskey.

It takes a bit of a while, but the bartender sure enough hops back to you, expertly balancing a steel platter with a white ceramic plate on top, rather fancy for a bar like this, but you’re not gonna complain about someone being professional. The platter is set on the wooden counter in front of you with a slight metallic thud, and the contents, while nothing to write home about, look pretty good.

And well, they’re fucking French fries, kinda hard to screw that up to be honest, but those do look freshly cut and fried straight from potatoes and not the pre-frozen type, their girth and length bigger than the average. That would also explain the wait, which is fine for you, you’re not really in a hurry, and it’s not like you’re about to down all your whisky in one go, you do intend on taking the bottle, you paid for it after all.

Speaking of bottle, you could go for another shot right now, just reach for the bottle and your fingers curl and extend as they grasp the air… again.

Behind you the giggling of all the hyenas scattered around the bar tells you enough without you even having to look for the source of their entertainment. But still, you lick your lips in mild annoyance and let your eyes fly to your left corner, just in time to watch the hyena downing your alcohol till only another fifth was left remaining, before slamming it down in front of you exactly the same way she did the first, which, you notice, has yet to be touched after you gave it to her.

You lick and purse your lips in annoyance, looking forward instead of spending any more time staring at the hyena, and watching the barman once more have his eyes jumping from you and the leeching canine to your side. Again, you wave your hand, tis fine, don’t sweat it, you say, money isn’t a problem for you right now.

You’re not gonna get anything from thinking about how much the hyena is a bitch, just relax, you’re here to rest, eat, fill your bike with gas, and then continue your aimless trip across the country, and hopefully never seeing these hyenas ever again. So, with that in mind instead, you reach for your plate and pi- oh wait, can’t take those fries with your gloves on, they’re dirty as shit.

Pulling the right glove by the fingers, you’re finally ready to take your friessand they’re not there, only the cold touch of the silver steel platter. Your eyes shoot left to see the same hyena tilting down the white plate and letting all the fries slide down right into her waiting jaws, before clamping it shut and chomping on your food that you didn’t even get to taste. And from your back, instead of giggling, you hear the unrestrained laughter of all the gang members as one of theirs keeps fucking with you.

The hand resting on the silver platter closes into a fist, and you feel all the joints of your fingers cracking loudly, that fucking bi-

No, no… you’re better than this. You won’t lower yourself down to her level, you’ve done it before, and it has gotten you in trouble.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and let it out very slowly.

“Alright girls, I think that’s enough” – Comes a very rough, but still distinctively feminine voice right from your left, which you assume is the same hyena that’s been fucking with you.

“Aw, but boss, he looks so cute trying not to look mad” – Another tomboyish sounding girl voice comes from behind you “Like a wittle pouting baby” – And the voice turns cartoonier, for a lack of better term, as she mocks you.

“Yes, yes; he does wook wike a wittle baby” – A pair of fingers grab your left cheek and pinches it quite hard, pulling your head around left and right before finally letting go “But we already wasted enough time on this dumb joint” – The sound of shifting clothes is what you hear next, on top of some cracking joints and a few satisfied grunts “Just take the drinks with you and let’s get out of here” – She finishes, getting a chorus of aye boss, and stepping away from you, and probably towards the entrance.

“I-I’m, sorry, but you haven’t pa-“ – The poor soul of a bartender tries to talk, but he must’ve forgotten he’s talking to a hyena.

“Haaahhnn!?” – She vocalizes, clearly annoyed, and the steps that were beginning to sound far began to get loud and closer “I haven’t what?” – You hear and feel the counter being slammed, and it’s probably the ‘boss’ making herself more intimidating.

“I-I, y-y-you haven’t paid for your drinks and f-food… m-miss” – You can almost feel the barman wishing to shrink into a ball as he tries his best to talk to the obviously vicious looking hyena.

“Hmmm” – Opening an eye, you see the hyena right by your side, scratching the dirty fur on her chin “Yeah, I guess I didn’t, did I?” – Her eyes quickly shoot towards your person “But my friend here will cover for, now-“

*grunt*

She grabs the back of your head by the hair and pulls it back, where with a slightly pained expression you see her looking down on you with a malicious smirk “-won’t you?” – She waits for an answer, but you don’t give her any, getting her smirk to fade into a thin line as she pulls your hair harder “Won’t you?” – She repeats with more force behind her voice, and when you don’t say anything again, she just snarls and pushes your head forwards, slamming against the counter.

Where you stay and don’t move.

“Tsk, you’re no fun” – She spits on the floor next to me “Pack it up, girls” – The hyena boss orders her entourage and slowly they trickle out of the bar.

You sigh in relief.

“Fucking finally” – You say out loud, mostly to yourself than the scared cat barman, who gasps in horror when you push yourself from the counter.

“Oh my god, mister, you’re bleeding!” – He nearly screams, pointing at your nose. Crisscrossing your eyes, you see that your nose is actually bent sideways, and after a quick feel with your hand, you pull it back to reveal blood now running across your hand.


“Eh, don’t sweat it” – You try to defuse the situation, and take your nose, pushing it back in place with a sickly sounding crack, making the barman shiver in uneasiness, basically making your situation defusing words useless “Just gimme another plate of those French fries, they looked pretty good” – Pressing one side of our nose to close down the nostril, you force out a gob of coagulated blood, disgusting the barman even more.

“A-are you sure, sir?” – He asks, eyes wandering from the blood in his counter, and your face “I could just call the local authorities and a clinic to take a look at you” – He offers to help, but you being you, just-

“I’m fine, really, this is nothing” – You dismiss his worries for what feels like the billionth time “I just want to eat something right now” – You insist on just wanting to eat, because you ARE fucking starving right now, and-

*SLAM!*

The sounds of the doors being slammed open catch yours and the barman’s ears.

“Hey!” – You hear the voice of that hyena boss, and a sigh already at the tip of your lips, just waiting to get out, expecting another bout of annoyance “Are you the asshole who parked a jap bike near my Harley?”

…

In front of you the barman’s eyes widen far wider than anything you’ve seen from him so far, and the poor cat flinches and shrinks back against the drink shelf, making the bottles cackle and tinkle against one another. Funnily enough, he’s not staring at the hyena, he’s looking at you.

Whatever face you’re making right now must be pretty intense to make the bartender look so terrified.

“What if I am?” – Without looking, you direct your word towards the hyena for the first time, who just huffs in annoyance.

“So the little baby can talk, huh?“ – She says in the same annoyed tone of her huff “Well, I just wanna say that I’m not really fond of these cheap jap bikes” – She states out loud, like some characteristic to be proud of “So I took the liberty to give it a few… aesthetic changes”

The characteristic hyena laugher that accompanied that last statement fades in the background as you very methodically put on your glove and stand up from the counter, of which now hides a terrified bartender crouched behind, and from your jacket’s pocket, you pull your wallet and sunglasses, leaving more cash on the table than whatever you asked for was priced, tucked the wallet back inside your jacket, and your sunglasses on your face.
Hands in pockets, you do a one eighty towards the hyenas and away from the counter, targeting the spread out exist, where the boss has already l6eft. As you walk, the hyenas give space, but form a circle around you, smugly grinning and laughing constantly, accompanying you on the way out, most likely wanting to see whatever’s gonna happen.

Crossing the doors, your sunglasses do their job of protecting you from the light, however, you wish for a moment you had not put them on, at least spare you of this sight for a few more moments.

Saying absolutely nothing, you step besides your parked motorcycle, or what’s left of it. In the little time the hyena has left the bar she has successfully smashed the engine, broken off the angle rake and front wheel, slashed the tires, torn off the seat, bent the exhaust pipes, and etc,.

It’s fixable, but…

“Pretty neat huh?” – The boss comes from behind and throws her big arm around your shoulders “Now it looks the part of a jap bike, like trash, BHAHAHAHA” – Her laughter right by your ear is accompanied by a chorus of hyena laugh that’s already getting on your nerves.

“You’re gonna pay for this” – You say, interrupting her laughter.

“Pay? Heh” – She laughs, closing her arm around your neck and picking your face with her hand to look straight at her “Do you know who you’re talking to?” – She smirks, looking straight into your shades.

“The bitch who’s gonna pay up a mechanic to come and fix my bike” – You state as clear as the day is today.

“Hehehe, you heard that girls” – Her neck leans back, allowing the hyena to address her gang “He thinks I’m gonna pay to fix for his trashy Yamaha BAHAHAHAHAHAHA” – And the laughter continues, almost like the hyenas have an infinite source of air inside of their lungs.

Suddenly your body’s pushed backwards, back hitting against cushioned leather, as a pair of arms snake under your own and hold you on a poor form full nelson. The hyena’s boss, who pulled you back against one of her own, walks up to you and leans down a bit, roughly taking your chin and pulling it up, making you look upwards to her smirking, spotted muzzle one more time.

“You know, you’re kind of cute” – She admits, chuckling darkly to herself, licking her lips and scratching the underside of your chin menacingly “Maybe we should take you with us” – Meanwhile, something wet touches the back of your head, right through your hair.

“And he smells manly too, boss” – The hyena holding you spoke out after taking a big whiff of you “It’d be a blast to break him into a bitch boy, hehehehe” – You immediately shiver in disgust when a slimy appendage’s dragged from across the back of your neck.

The hyena lets go and kicks your back, sending you forward back to your bike, where you managed to catch yourself before bringing it any more damage. Turning around, you watch the hyena who held you licking and smacking her lips in satisfaction, like some deranged pervert.

“Heh, you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you, bitch boy?” – The boss calls out, putting on her own sunglasses and moving to her road king “I mean, no reaction? You gotta like this shit” – the Hyena laughs, sitting on her bike “Too bad for you, we don’t like submissive types right out of the gate, got to have some bite for us to break” – And the rest of the gang follow suit, laughing and getting on their motorcycles and starting their engines. Fists clenched, you step away from your father’s trashed bike and move to the boss of the group.

“Maybe if you had some fight in you” – Not looking back, she shoves the key on the ignition and turns right “We’d drag you alon-huh” – And her words are broken as soon as she feels he semi-long fur of her head gripped and pulled back, only for her face to fly forward right onto the gas tank “Garh!!” – She grunts in pain right after you slam her face on the glass window of the tank’s speedometer “Aaargh!!” – And again when you swiftly pull her back, sending her flying off the bike, hitting the bar’s wall back first.

Did you ever say why your childhood and teenage years were troubled? That was mainly because you couldn’t keep your fists under control.

The whole lot of the gang stopped dead on their tracks, staring back slack jawed in shock at what you can only assume to be your nerve to hit their boss. Bringing both hands to chest level, you crack your knuckles and beckon them to come and get some. That seemed to get the job done well enough as they climb out their bikes and slowly make their way up to you.

“You gotta have a fucking death wish, boy” – You hear the hyena boss standing up from her spot to the wall, placing a clawed hand on her head, and roughly cracking her neck left and right “Pray for a miracle because you’re not getting out of here alive” – She states, her hyenas slowly circling you as they get closer and closer.

“Step aside!” – The boss shouts suddenly, getting all the hyenas to stop their advancements and turn to her general direction, as you too turn around, you see the leader roughly pushing her goons out of the way “You can have the sloppy seconds after I’m done with him” – She orders, growling menacingly, eyes filled with ire.

“B-but bos-“

“Shut up” - and the hyena shuts up, stepping back into the circle that formed around you alongside the other gang members “You have a lot of nerve, punk” – Pot calling the kettle black much? “I’m gonna have to teach a le-GURGH!!” – Her monologue is interrupted by a fist to the gut.

“You talk you much” – You warn through your teeth, face to face with the pained hyena, before upper cutting her chin. The female flies in an arc, but is caught by her gang members and helped up, before she shakes her head off the dizziness.

“Talk too much, huh?” – She growls and lowers her stance, “Fine, then I’ll shut up!!”- And charges straight at you, fangs barred and claws out while your fists clench in preparation.

…

*CRASH*

You can see the bartender jumping in fright and hiding behind the counter upside down as you’re sent crashing through the window and into a table via a flying 883 being thrown straight at you. The table crashes under the collective weight of you and an entire motorcycle, pinning you down under the five hundred pound. You cough and push the bike off just in time to get your head soccer kicked by the hyena leader.

Sliding back from the kick, you roll and pull up into a crouch, the frenzied yeen is again charging straight at you, ready for another kick, but as she gets close you spin and extend your leg, connecting your heel right to her chin, where she staggers back, giving you a chance to retaliate.

Climbing onto your feet, you get inside her range and strike her solar plexus, she toughs it out and swipes at your head with her claws, but you duck and upper her chin again, getting the larger female to stagger back once more, she goes for a low spinning kick, but you jump over and heel kick her jaw. What you didn’t see was her claws digging through the wooden floor, preventing her from flying back. When you land and pull your arm back, she’s already in your face, grabbing your incoming straight and pulling you closer into a headbutt, broking your already broken nose even further.

Without letting go of your arm, she sinks her fist into your gut, again, and again, until you doubled over enough for her to grab your hand and pull back her leg, knee striking you in the face. When you’re sent flying back, instead of hitting another table or the floor, something soft catches you instead.

Shit, you forgot she had joined it midway through.

Feeling to arms coiling from behind your shoulders and neck, that same hyena who held you in a full nelson is back, and the boss is so pissed she doesn’t seem to care one of her own came into the fight, instead, her bloodied face almost looks gleeful that you’re being held down, probably so she can beat you up easier.

Struggling to get out of the hold, the hyena behind you holds you down firmer, and sinks her teeth on your shoulders to get you to stop. You greet your teeth and grunt, but keep struggling to get out, and you almost manage to push yourself out when a hook connects with your temple, breaking your focus, and had the hyena behind you not being there, you’re sure you’d be sent spiraling away.

Gut, gut, face, face. Ribs, solar plexus, hook, and smash.

She keeps striking blow after blow in that same order, twice in your gut, and twice in your face. You barely manage to catch yourself from blacking out when she finishes a wave and starts yet another one, one on your ribs, another on the solar plexus. But when she pulls back and fires her hook, you bend out of the way just enough, letting her massive hyena fists fly right above your head and collide instead with the surprised and scared face of her friend. Who takes the full weight of the hook combined with the momentum of you pulling her face right into it.

Her bite hold on your shoulder’s finally gone as she yelps in pain, but her full nelson is still in place. You see the angered boss in front of you, even more mad after you made her strike her own companion, ready to deliver what’s surely another devastating blow to your face, but with your living confines now crumbling behind you, you jump and throw both your heels onto her face, pushing her and you back to opposite sides.

The yeen holding you gasps in pain as you two collapse, and with her cushioning your forced fall, but nothing cushioning hers, her hold finally eases off. Now free, you turn around, straddling her waist, and take the flaps of her vest on your hands; her hands, too busy holding her pained chest and face, are too slow to try and pry yours off, and rearing back your head, you shoot downwards, pulling her up, and head butting her muzzle and hitting the back of her head against the floor.

After taking the hit, she just stays there, groaning in pain, holding her bleeding nose and curling up in in a ball, but as you stand up, you’re met with a hand grabbing your face, sharp claws digging into your skin as you’re dragged all the way to the back of the bar and over to the counter. Try as you might you couldn’t pry the muscular hand off your face as the hyena roars bloody murder, climbing over the counter and smashing your face against the bar shelf.

You can hear the barman gasping in shock and fear when the shower of glass and alcohol cascade down your head, cutting the back of your head and scalp, and drenching them in liquid that feels more like searing hot water being poured over your head. Not done with her onslaught, she grabs you by the neck, piercing the skin with her claws, hoists you up, and punch you in the face, over and over again.

Boom, boom, boom.

Her blows feels like explosions going off right in front of your face, both in sound and power. But your hands are still free; drunk her non-stop rage fueled pummeling, she can’t see your own hand shooting upwards open handed, striking her right in the elbow joint. A loud clack echoes throughout the bar and she unhands you, screaming in pain while holding her dislocated arm.

You slide down the broken shelf, coughing and breathing as much as you can, but with her this stunned, you’d have to be a retard to not take the chance. Pulling yourself up, you shoot forward, ignoring the still hiding bartender and shoulder tackle the screaming hyena onto the counter, her back hitting the counter top with a grunt. Closing inbetween her hanging legs, your fist clenches while the other pulls the flap of her jacket; with as much weight as you can muster, you push it down to her face, hitting her head on the front and back as it impacts against the counter, you do it twice, thrice, four times, five, and again, and again, and again, and again.

You only stop when the bitch is barely responding to the physical trauma being inflicted, and your gloves are caked in blood from her broken muzzle leaking out the red stuff.

In her highly stunned state, she can only roll her head in a stupor, almost out of it, just awake enough to probably feel your hits mining away her consciousness. But instead of continually strike her while she’s down, you climb up the counter, grab the canine by the hem of her pants and collar of her jacket, in your own rage fueled madness, lift her over your head and throws her body across the bar, into yet another table is made victim.

Her body flies and falls down flailing like a ragdoll, the thing can’t straighten herself from the awkward; and assumedly painful position she got stuck in from a combination of fatigue, pain, and dazed. As for you, you climb down the counter and stomp your way to her, hoping to finish this scuffle. The yeen in question tries her best to get up, but keeps sliding or falling down, too many hits to the head you guess, she can only look at your increasingly looming figure with what you can only assume to be a growing fear as her glossed eyes start to tremble.

And you would’ve kept going, had you not being tackled down to the ground by the other hyena you forgot was in the fight. Straddling you this time around, she growls menacingly in your face before she pulls back her arms to pummel your face, still stunned by her sudden move, she gets it a few good hits, giving you a taste of what you have her and her boss as your head bounces between her fists and the floor. Winding up for a bigger one, she fires it down, but too occupied beating your face to hold your arms down, your hand flies up and intercept the strike by the wrist.

She tries to hit you with her left, but you grab it also, you two fight for struggle, you trying your best not to let go, and she trying to pry her hands off. She goes for a bite to your face, but you manage to lean just in time for her to get a face full of floor. Chance acknowledged, you pull your leg in and knee her in the gut from your place in the ground, getting a pained gasp, another one makes sure she has no air in her lugs to help her in this fight, and her struggle subsides.

When she goes limp, if just for a fraction of a second, you take your chance and wrap your arm around her throat from behind, holding her face against the floor. The sudden move on your part startles her, and she tries to pull herself back, but with your other arm you snake it around her back and pull her close to you. The struggles, and punches as her breathing grows weaker and more labored, but the distance is too little for her to do any significant damage, you resist until, with a final whimper, she goes limp in your choke hold.

Breathing heavily, you shove the limp hyena off of you with a grunt, and staggeringly stand up, barely able to stay on your feet, shaking your head from some of the dizziness. Well, you’ll be, this is the first time you actually had to put up a fight against one of these biker gangs. Expected from a group of spotted Hyenas, you guess.

“Ughhh” – You hear the boss grunting in pain, and turning your head nets you the sight of her pushing herself up. Still not giving up, huh? Well, that won’t be for long.

Looking down, you crouch and grab the unconscious hyena by the thick fur of her head, and the base of her tail, and with a groan, you chuck the limp canine at the raising yeen boss. She yelps in pain as the weight of her friend hits her full force, and she goes down again.

Now, ready to finish what they started, you walk up to the boss, who hears your heavy stomps and looks up again in a mix of anger and fear. This time, however, there is no friend to tackle you down, so when you get near, you reach for the hyena. She tries to stop you, but you just pull the dead weight away from her and kicks her ribs, forcing the female to her side when she curls in agony, and grabbing the fur of the back of her head.

You drag the struggling and groaning hyena across the half destroyed bar, over broken tables and chairs, all the way to the motorcycle she had fucking thrown at you.

“You know” – You start, between labored breaths “I’m not really fond of the way you look” – Reaching the bike, you unceremoniously throws her onto the still turned on sportster “So I’m taking the liberty of giving you a few… aesthetic changes” – Her eyes widen as you finish talking, you flip her over, face towards the V-twin engine, and grab a hold of the handle, revving the bike.
Most likely realizing what you plan on doing, she desperately takes a hold of the bike’s frame with her good arm and push herself out, but it’s all for naught when you stomp your foot on the back of her hand and push her back down. She puts up a valiant struggle, but the fatigue and lack of an arm to help propel her further from the engine is far from enough, the number you did on her took too much of a toll, and so despite her size and strength, steadily you gain ground and push her down toward the now burning hot revving engine and exhaust pipes.

“Guhhh, S-stop” – She groans out, almost breathless, the tip of her muzzle nearly touching the pipes.

“What was that!?” – You shout, pushing her further down “I can’t hear you over the scream of this really loud motorcycle” – You mock her, pushing her head down further, giving her a sample of her own medicine. The hyena struggles some more and turns her head sideways to give her more space between her face and the exhausts.

“I said stop!” – She shouts desperately “S-stop please, I’m sorry!” – In a move that shocks you, she apologizes. It was so unexpected to hear that instead of curses or raging yells, she apologizes instead. Looking down you see her face contorted in a myriad of emotions, most prevalent of them being humiliation and admittance of defeat, as a single streak of tear runs down her cheeks.
What is this bullshit? After all that bravado, all that insolence, after uncalled for aggression, she apologizes, and just expects you to accept it. Sneering at her, you take your hand off the handle, grunting in anger as the engine’s roar begins to fade. Feeling the weight of your leg leaving her head next, she looks back at you with hope in her eyes, but that changes when your foot comes crashing down right after.

The hyena closes her eyes and waits for the incoming pain, and whimpers weakly when a loud crashing noise explodes right beside her ear. But as soon as she realizes she hasn’t been hurt, she opens her eyes to your boot deep in the Harley’s V-Twin engine, nearly breaking it in half.

You pull your stuck foot out of the now wrecked engine, and closes in on the scared hyena. She tries to crawl away, but with a motorcycle in her way, she can’t go anywhere, meaning you had her jacket by your grip, and flick of your arm, had her flipped onto her back. Trembled breathing follows right after from her, afraid of what you might do next, and how you can hurt her, and hurt her you will just not in the way she’s expecting. Gripping her shoulder, you take her right forearm and pulls it back, snapping her dislocated elbow back in place, and getting a scream followed by a muffled one as bites her own lips to help take her mind off the pain in her arm.

While she agonizes on the floor, finally you breath out in relief and tiredness. This shit’s over, and to think it all began because miss “road queen” here couldn’t keep her arrogance and superiority in check for just once. Your bike’s still trashed, and honestly you’re holding yourself from just kicking her head into the bike as of now, because restoring your bike’ll take a lot of time and money, meaning you’ll be spending a lot of time in this little asshole of a town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.
Out of the of your vision, you notice the rest of the hyenas piling up against the door and broken window, all spectators of the chaos, but none daring to even enter, like the bar just became some sort of sacred ground, preventing them from setting foot inside, all looking at you in shock and… awe?

“What about you?” – You call out, making all jump at being brought to attention “Wanna go too?” – You ask, leaning your head left and right, cracking the joints and letting the sound echo sickeningly across the bar. Honestly, you’re not up for another round, especially with so many of the, but if they wanna go, so be it, at least you die in a manly way, you guess, fighting to the death.

The hyenas all go wide eyed and start looking at one another, before one’s pushed through the door’s arc, she looks absolutely terrified, even trembling on her feet, paws… whatever. Any courage she displayed earlier when her boss was messing with you is now gone whatsoever, leaving only a trembling hyena that feels more like a scared dog than a big bad savannah pack hunter.
Well, one stepped up to the challenge, so you might as well too. Soon as you step up to her, though, she stands to attention like a soldier. Going straight as a plank, stiff as a board, eyes shut tight, arms glued to her sides and chin held high.

“N-not at all b-boss!!” – She all but bellows, and you… you stop.

“Boss?” – What the fuck?

“Y-yes boss” – Her eyes shut down even tighter, doing her best to be clear and not anger you further, not noticing your complete befuddlement  “Y-y-you beat the boss, that makes you t-the new boss, boss!” – She explains it out to you, quivering in her feet, looking behind her, all the other hyenas, at least the ones who dared to show their face and not hide, nod their heads in confirmation.

You turn back to the bartender, who had just inched his head over the counter to look at the absolute warzone his bar turned into, having just heard what the hyena screamed to the heavens, and tremblingly shrugs a response. Well, that’s a proper response, what should you honestly expect from him at this point?

“Boss, huh?” – You take your nose and set it back in place, making the hyena wince at the sound its cracking cartilage, and rub the leaking from your nostrils.

“Y-yes, sir, we’ll follow you till the ends of time, your say it, we do it” – She keeps her eyes shut, and begins quaking even more as the loud steps of your boots come all the way over her. Tapping her shoulder; she jumps in place, but open her eyes, gulping down a lump of air at the sight of your bloodied face.

“Then my first order is for you all to clean up this mess” – You then pat her on the head before walking out of the bar as the cacophony of hyenas rushes in, all looking at you like you have a second head, and all having heard your order and not wanting to anger you apparently. While the one you pat touches the top of her head, face growing a little red from your unintentional display of affection.

Leaning on the wall by the doors, you remove a pack of cigs and a lighter from the inside of your coat, all smashed to shit, and pull out one, still whole, the only whole, but slightly bent, cigarette, stick between your lips, and light it up.
Letting it hang there, as you watch the smoke flowing into the sky.

Boss of a pack of hyenas, what mess have you gotten yourself into?

-------------------

Raising an arm and opening your hand, you just need to curl your fingers twice before the tool you need is placed on your palm. Muttering a thank you, you hear skipping behind you before you go back to fixing your bike.

You’ve been in here for nearly a month already. You got the hyena to clean up the cat’s bar from top to bottom until it was in pristine condition. Then you had them line up in front of you, giving you any money they had on their person before giving it to the barman, to pay for any damages. That got some of the hyena’s fur all ruffled, about how instead of just taking what they want and leaving without paying you’re wasting their cash on the bar.

All you had to say was ‘who wants to fight over it’ and they quickly crawled back from their spot in the midst of the leather clad hyenas.

After that you asked for a computer, to order for parts to fix your bike. Many websites had to be browsed, and many orders were placed from different websites from different parts of the world, and used ones at that. Yeah, keeping a motorcycle as old as a RD 350 in this day and age is a fucking nightmare, and will cost you a ton, basically almost all your savings. Then of course, wait for them all to be shipped right here to roadside bumfuck nowhere.

In that time, you got to know your… hyena gang… still kinda hard to believe it, honestly. Never saw yourself as a gang member, let alone a gang leader at that. But it just happened, and you guess it’s gonna saty that way. You asked what would happen had you refused, they said that one of them had to challenge you for the spot, and none of them were willing after seeing you beat up the previous boss AND her second in command, right hand, first mate, whatever the fuck they call it in these gangs.

Fair enough, but when asked what would they do if you left without them, they would just follow you anyway, weather you liked it or not, and if you ran away they would just smell your trail. They know the smell of exhaust, and two stroke engines have a very distinct one, which basically means you’re stuck with a group of rowdy, violent tomboys until someone comes up and beats your ass.

Though, they’re not so bad once you got to know them, they’re pretty rowdy and prone to violence, but only when provoked. The previous boss is the only one that liked to assert her dominance on everyone she came across, which resulted in her undoing by yours truly. Some of them don’t like that you’re not an assertive motherfucker, but you told them straight up if they had a problem they could fight it out, and as you guessed it, they backed out.

One of the yeens, a smaller one, who’s ironically still taller than you, called Lynda, the one that was pushed by her gang mates as sacrifice to you after you beat her boss, quickly grew to like you, since you’re not mean or pushy towards her like the rest of the mates. She’s naturally friendly and, while tomboyish, not violent like the rest. When asked why she rides with them, she says it’s because she likes being free, and the light bullying is worth it, even if it gets to her sometimes.  You understand that’s just natural hyena behavior, but you kind of made sure to keep her always near, as a warning to the others that messing with the nice one is messing with you.

She’s probably your closest friend in this shit.

The second in command, which you learned is called Barbara, also quickly grew to like you. You were actually surprised by how beating up her up didn’t get her to hate your guts or something along these lines, she just says it’s water under the bridge, and…

“We kinda deserved it for trashing your bike”

She’s friendly, even more so than Lynda, who’s a bit on the shy side with the rest for being the runt, and very outgoing unlike the rest of the crew, but she has a bit of a problem. She’s touchy.

Like, very touchy.

As in, constant-unsolicited-physical-contact-at-any-given-moment touchy.

Whenever she feels like it, she’ll just drape herself over your shoulders like a blanket and take a whiff of your hair, which really gets her off for some reason, hug you from the front or behind, grope your arms, legs and crotch, lick your face, straight up sit on your lap, and say creepy shit like how your muscles are so strong and hard, or how your scent drives her crazy, or how you’re really hot.

Yeah, she’s a perv, no better way to explain it.

You’d tell her to stop, but she’s the type that would keep doing it even if you actually got physical, in the painful sense.
And then there’s Samantha, or Sam, as she prefers to be addressed as. She’s the yeen boss, or was until you beat that position out of her.

She’s a strange beast, very unique even compared to the other hyenas.

Still very much arrogant and dominant, much more so than the rest, she pushes everyone around and threatens them with violence with things don’t go her way, but she stays away from almost all the time. And it’s not like she’s afraid of confronting you, there’s none of that fear you could see in her eyes back when you had her present as of now. She just stands away, looking at you whenever she thinks you’re not noticing, and turning her head away when you do look back.

And you swear her face’s red when that happens, you’re just not sure because she’s so far away. And then there’s the way she looks at Lynda and Barbara, there’s clear jealously, frustration, and hell, even some longing, crossing her slightly angered features whenever Lynda’s being close to you, or whenever Barbara is sexually harasses you.

And surprisingly enough, whenever a hyena DOES actually decide to grow a pair and confront you about how you’re not being a proper hyena gang boss, and how you should be like this and like that and whatever, she’s the first to put the odd one out in her place. That’s the only time she’ll ever get close, to protect you, funnily enough, unrequested too, much to your surprise. And when you thank her she always stammers something along the lines of “I-I’m not d-doing this for you, I’m just keeping the pack in order, y-you know!” and swiftly rushes away red faced.

You have to admit, that’s kinda cute. Seeing the big arrogant hyena reduced to a pile of spilling spaghetti because she doesn’t know how to express herself to an equal, being used to just dominate her way around weak males; is oddly charming.

And you can’t help but smile her way when that happens, making her even more flustered in response.

You wonder what life has in store for you now after such a big shake up, maybe now you do have something to look forward to.