Long Tale Press

Hawkfire was bored. With an aloof swing of his head he coldly surveyed the discordant line of motorcycles and people to either side, boisterous conversations and illicit eye contact. Men stood about in various displays of leather from the rather useless to the outlandishly colourful and overly protective. There were women in the group too, the obvious ones parading the strip in more skin then leather.

Three more bikes roared over the hill, a smooth thundering sound that lifted all eyes as they decelerated in unison and pulled into the further end of the parking lot. A group near Hawk, that had been sitting next to their own bikes, stood to study the newcomers. He over heard something about tickets and too many cops out but it soon merged with all the rest of the ridiculous conversations taking place. Hawk leaned his head back and studied the tall trees bordering this clearing. Then shrugged, took a deep breath and turned back to his own machine. This place had too quickly run his patience, like every other place he visited, it was time to move on. Except for the race. Leaning over the polished surface at his side, fondly caressing its curves, he visualized the coming event. The race was the only thing that held him now, and it wasn't for another twelve days.

"Hey Hawk," a voice broke in and he glared over at its source, "we're heading down to the City. Gonna party man, you comin?"

"No."

The man shrugged, continuing on his way.

At 6'3" Hawk stood an impressive figure in full black leathers. Long straight hair lay plastered to his head from sweat and helmet. Black hair framing startling black eyes that viewed everybody who passed with mild contempt. One hand toyed distractedly with a fingerless glove while the milling crowd took his concentration for a moment. Hawk was accustomed to crowds but this boisterous array of over friendly people caused him mild distress. The blood red machine at his side was a marvel though. Pure sex on wheels, no doubt about it. Although he didn't understand the significance of the odd grey pieces, someone had commented that he had enough graphite on his bike to fund a small nation. That, in itself, pleased Hawk.

Maybe there was something to be said for this place after all. Hawk lovingly ran a hand across the sleek machine, from the first time he had straddled her graceful body he knew he had to have this beast, once he had taken her through the curves he was in love. And Hawkfire never fell in love with his toys. This one he wanted to take home.

Someone else came by, slapping him in friendly camaraderie on the shoulder, making him wince. It was the party again. Hawk moaned, these people didn't know the slightest about throwing a party and they couldn't even handle the watered down stuff they called beer. A woman with long blond hair peeled herself from his most recent annoyance, impudently running one long finger along the seat of his motorcycle before passing him a look that should have been illegal. "Hot, never been on a Duck before. Want to give me a ride to town, promise to hold on real tight." She rubbed her body across his arm and tiptoed up to whisper conspiratorially in his ear. "Bet you give real good rides too."

Hawk just gave the woman a pitying look.

"Save it Lora, you'd need a better paint job to get his attention." The voice came from behind, a teasing vindictive that was soon lost in general laughter.

Turning slowly towards the sound a quiet anger threatened the corners of Hawk's eyes, but the woman's hand stayed him. "We could go to your place," with one final, suggestive, scrutiny of his body she moved on down the line, "another time."

Alone once again Hawk ran his hand over the slick red body, frowning deeply as he reluctantly accepted that he really did have to go home. Hell with it anyway, he could always come back for the race. Grabbing the mat black helmet he threw one leg over the seat and hit the ignition. The Ducati purred, the sound echoing in his heart and through the very marrow of his bones.

Throttling up all the way Hawk kicked out of the parking lot at the south end in a near uncontrolled skid, sliding through the stop sign and onto Skyline right into oncoming traffic. A horn blared and Hawk threw his hand up in the rebellious gesture he had learned while riding here, nearly unsettling himself with the move, and headed south ahead of screeching brakes. Back in the parking lot a policeman threw his cup of coffee at the hood of his car and dove through the door. Lights came up and sirens blared but the bike was well gone by then.

Hawk settled into the Ducati, folding his large frame down into an impossibly small space while the road ahead took a couple of easy turns. Black pavement flashed by, a series of banks and turns accentuated by light and dark splashes as the sun fought through the trees. Flying low, leaning hard, tight against the glistening machine Hawk's heart purred to the same rhythm, his body became part of its body, symbiosis perfected between motorcycle and rider. This was a thrill he couldn't explain, a power beyond any he had held before, and in his life this man thought he had done it all.

After a series of exhilarating curves the road leveled on a plateau that amazed Hawk each time he passed through. Never had he seen such an example of incongruous harmony. To the right green and brown rolled listlessly into the sea, a brilliant expanse that was empty as far as the eye could see. Below to his left was a city flowing out of a huge bay. Perhaps the largest city he had ever encountered, certainly the largest he cared to. So many people piled a top one another down there for what seemed no reason at all. He flew through the next set of curves in meditation, instinct taking over, the machine leading the way. A forked horn buck lifted his head to watch the frenzied passage as the red Ducati disappeared into the mountains once again.

As Hawk flattened into a hard bank before the particular stretch he was heading for he opened full throttle. The bike came through the corner wide, setting on the yellow line and eating reflective bumps to the annoyance of traction. Coming out he found himself faced with a double wall of oncoming traffic, cars pushing the safety zone to use that last little bit to pass a slower vehicle. Hawk had enough room to slow down and pull far enough to the right to allow the cars safe passage, but out of sheer malice the man on the red Ducati stayed in the middle. Lifting one hand in a thunderous war whoop he swept through, cars splitting wildly at his approach. Someone slammed on their brakes and that car veered right excessively then suddenly spun left. That collision was behind now but there was still a line of cars ahead and they were quickly becoming one, ugly, solid entity. Not what he had planned.

Hawk aimed for two approaching vehicles, stomped on the rear break, skidded sideways and slid between them, catching the impact of one bumper on his fairing, cracking it and quite nearly critically unbalancing him. With one hand raised in what would later be a vastly misunderstood motion, he yelled an unintelligible command and screeched off the pavement in a showy display of sparks, flashes and smoke. The fireworks weren't really necessary but always fun. When the dust settled the red Ducati and its unknown rider looked to have vanished from the face of the Earth. Left in his wake another car spun out of control, it was struck solidly in the side, flipping it once while two more vehicles made safe stops behind. The red motorcycle that all witnesses agreed had instigated the fatal accident was never found. Skid marks from the elusive bike ended mysteriously in the dirt just off the road, along with one piece of bright red fiberglass.

The first on the scene was the policeman that had gone in pursuit when the Ducati took off from Alice's under criminally reckless conditions. It didn't take long to pin this accident on that rider. When two officers arrived at Alice's it wasn't unexpected to find a large supply of riders still there, a large accident on Highway 9 had that effect, but with this discordant group of people they found no easy answers. No one actually knew the Ducati rider. They'd seen him, sure, a loner and not a talkative one. Nice bike though, new and it had no plates. The man did have a name, of sorts, seems he called himself Hawk. But that was about all they got. Sargent Maning was shaking his head as his partner returned.

"This one's a piece of work Sarg, apparently has cool black eyes and, oh yea, he's uncircumcised. Girl there," he tossed his head towards a young woman that looked in the middle of an argument with a biker, "took him home. Sounded like he hadn't been riding long and she swore he didn't have a wallet of even a key. Said he had an accent but couldn't say from where. Not that anything she said is worth a nickel."

Maning, exasperated, slammed his notebook closed. "Maybe we can trace the bike, how many red 916 Ducati's can there be in the area, those aren't cheap."

"Suspect we are about to find out."

At the accident scene an examining officer pointed out a peculiar arrangement of rocks the skid marks appeared to bisect before abruptly disappearing. The man was vehemently scoffed at, where in he went on to other business. Later, though, he walked back to the rocks, gingerly moving his hand over the spot. The officer shuddered for no reason, gritted his teeth and moved to kick the stones down. Something stopped him. Suddenly cold and sick to his stomach he returned to his squad car and sat down. Further down the hillside someone found a spot that looked to have been camped in. There were signs of a fire, the remains of a dinner of apparently wild rabbit, various bits of litter and a dark blue velvet blanket with fine silver threads that could have graced Queen Elizabeth's boudoir. No bike, no man, and no sign a motorcycle had ever flown through here wreaking havoc.

Hawkfire's landing on the other side was hard and completely out of control. With brakes locked he skidded sideways in the dirt for about twenty meters before he and the bike separated. While he rolled to a stop the beautiful creation did a thunderous end over and slid to a finale amongst a shower of dust and sticks. The line of bioluminescence drug from the Core trailed from both man and bike to disappear in the dirt a short distance beyond where the skid marks began. The decorous moving glitter seemed determined to hide in any shadows it could find, even squirming across the man's black leather outfit towards armpits and crotch.

Hawk lay still for a moment, shock and disorientation numbing his body to imminent pain. Finally he rolled to one side, amid loud groaning, and soon a cloud of silver dust enveloped him. When the cloud settled the man rolled to his knees, standing even while his hands went to his throat, throwing off the helmet as soon as he could make his fingers work the clumsy lock. As it hit the ground in a tirade of curses, a small hand slid up across his thigh.

"Some entrance, I take it that wasn't on purpose."

"I'm not entirely versed on the particularities of that machine." The words were distracted, then his head turned to regard the small figure at his side. "Hell Lizard, where'd you come from anyway?"

"Been looking for you." The young girl wandered over to examine the still smoking and sputtering carcass. Pushing blond, straggly hair back from her eyes and puckering her lips she ventured to extend one finger for a quick touch. "Will it live?"

"It was never alive."

"Do you want it to be?"

"If it was, it would be dead now." Hawk moved over to check out the beaten Ducati, it wasn't in very good shape. "Come on, help me get it back to the lodge." He uprighted the machine while Lizard assisted by getting in the way and asking nonsensical questions. Once up, Hawk sent the young girl back to grab his helmet as he tried to push the bike down the rough dirt road. "Why were you looking for me?"

Lizard peered out from inside the large helmet's dark visor. "There is a meeting tonight, thought you might want to know." She pushed the visor up and down a few times. "Raven has a complaint about you, again." The giggle in her voice was annoying.

The bike pushed badly so Hawk rested it against a tree to check out the wheels. While he leaned over to examine the motorcycle Lizard drew a line with her finger from his inner thigh to as high as she could reach on his back along the tight fitting leather. "This is..., different. Perhaps you should wear it to council."

He turned to give her a dirty look as he again began pushing the bike.

"Why are you dragging the bloody creature anyway, can it not walk?"

This time he glared at her. "It is not alive Lizard."

The young girl stuck out her lower lip, stopping on the trail behind him to pout. The dark visor fell down, making her next mumbled words even more muffled. "I'm almost eleven, you shouldn't call me Lizard anymore."

Hawk stopped, leaning the bike back once again he sat on his heals, pulling the helmet off to look her eye to eye. She had been thoroughly in love with her older stepbrother for a little over a year now. He willingly encouraged it, using her adoration to get him out of trouble and lend an alibi where needed. But when it came down to it, he really cared for the child. "And what do you want to be called?"

"Adaline." She said with a small huff.

"Well, Adaline, what is Ravenheart all upset about this time?"

"Same thing." She walked away, easily shifting moods to account for the fact that she knew something he did not. "She doesn't like you does she?"

"No, that she does not."

"Is that why you run away all the time, because you are married?"

"First off, I do not run away and secondly, we are not married."

"Well, you are promised and Lily says that is the same."

"Well Lily is wrong."

"But you will marry her."

He shoved the helmet back on her head and picked up his bike again.

Back at the lodge Hawk eyed his full leathered form in the mirror. It would look impressive to walk in wearing this, but wisely decided he had best not push his luck. After unzipping the thick leather suit he settled down on the edge of the overstuffed down bed to unbuckle then kicked off the heavy boots. Feet bare Hawk stood to wiggle free of the one piece riding suit. Completely naked the man stretched and twisted his tall form into submission as he wandered about the room vaguely looking for something, mildly aware that it was good to be home.

His hands finally grabbed the pack he had removed from the back of the bike, throwing it open on the bed and pulling out a soft leather tunic, hose and boots. He dressed rather distractedly, his mind returning to places he'd rather be than here. Moving nearly instinctively to the large chest dominating one corner of the small room, he pulled on a vest of midnight violet trimmed in white fur, buckling over it a heavy leather sword belt. A little more emotion finally lit his eyes as he pulled out the large sword, cross guards tipped in brilliant red rubies. Next Hawk tossed over his shoulders a black velvet cape. Lined in the same midnight blue this displayed on the left shoulder, majestically stitched in silver thread, the image of a flying hawk, wings outstretched, short dagger gripped firmly in talons before it. Finally, almost reverently, the man knelt over a panel on the floor and drew a pattern with his finger on the well worn wood. Once satisfied he lifted the panel and removed a small wooden box from the recess hidden below. From this he pulled a thick braid of gold supporting an elaborate gold and ruby pendant which he placed around his neck. He hesitated just a moment before lifting out a thin band of the purest white gold. It glowed like fire on its own in the dim lit room.

"You certainly can't go out like that." Lizard stood leaning against the doorjamb staring at him.

"How long have you been skulking there?"

"Long enough." She gave him a wink far too sly for one so young. "Here, let me help." Shuffling over to sit on the bed at his side Lizard pulled out a large comb from the folds of her dress, then climbed up to stand on her knees behind him. "This is probably why they want you to marry Raven, you have no idea how to take care of yourself." She combed through his hair, pulling out tangles with practiced ease. "It is quite dirty you know, you really should wash sometimes Hawk. Hand me that now." He handed up the white gold band and she placed it neatly on his head, combing the hair down around it. "There, much better. You will tell me what happens tonight, won't you Hawk?" She continued combing his hair down diligently. "When I am older, will they force me as well to marry? Some stinky old man too Lily says."

"I cannot say Lizard, excuse me, Adaline, but if I have anything to do with it, no." He lifted her from the bed and placed her on the floor, kissing the end of her nose with a smile. "Off with you now."

She started to go then turned back, looking to the ground and kicking her feet nervously. "When you are married will Raven send me away? It is improper for a young woman to be so fond of her brother." It took little to know where that had been heard, she did a superb job of mimicking Lily Brown Bear's tone. Hawk put it in his mind to reprimand the woman directly. "I wish you would not marry Raven."

"Well, between you and I, I do not like her much. But I promise, she shall not have you sent away. Now go on, get out of here, I've a meeting to attend to."

She ran out the door, brushing purposely close against the grey haired man standing just beyond as she passed.

The man then entered, bowing low and holding the pose. "Your Majesty." Hawk turned, acknowledging the obeisance with a bored, impersonal wave of one hand. "I must speak with you before the council, in private."