Bike punks. Not proper motorcycle gangs like the infamous Hell's Angels, but something smaller and more petty. Famed and present in foreign countries, but a rising problem in America.

Vandalism, assault, property damage, and muggings instead of the more impressive, to Circe at least, crimes done by proper motorcycle gangs.

They were also not as smart, in the opinion of the Summer Queen. Most didn't even have the style of the gangs, opting for ATVs and dirt bikes instead of proper choppers. And less profitable, both in their own goals and for the blue Lost's wallet. Bike punks preferred arms were improvised or Ren Faire stuff, not what the Summer Queen moved.

And they should have really thought on what not to do. Don't presume a target is helpless. Don't presume the woman in the bad part of town is helpless, especially when she shows no fear. Don't presume lack of cameras meant safety. Don't try to swing a pipe at Circe's car!

And don't hold onto said pipe when you are scrawny compared to the person who grabbed the pipe as you are riding by. Further, don't try to charge when said person throws the pipe at you.

This left the Summer Queen, in her nice suit, walking to her trunk whilst two of the punks are on the ground moaning in pain. That still left a dozen and Circe's clients hadn't arrived yet.

She pops the trunk just as one shouts, "What are you, a bunch of cowards?! Get her...her...uuh." The shouting dies down as Circe has pulled out and readies her clients' purchase.

It was not quite an Uzi, more a knock off but close enough for the kids to recognize what it was. She has it not held up in one hand, but cradled properly for spray and pray. "Ya were saying something merda stupida?"

Then there is the roar of what Circe would dub proper motorcycles. A half dozen burly men on choppers, wearing rather more storied symbols on their vests than the punks' pop-media adorned garments, pulled into the parking lot ahead of a pickup truck. The panic before was briefly replaced with confusion. Except for the loud mouth whom Circe saw was hopeful. That made her smile.

"Oh, hey guys!" Her Italian accented voice is cheerful, "Yer late. These brats part of some junior club? Or just really stupid muggers? If number two, do ya want ta pay fer a product demonstration?"

Oh my, such rage and indignation from the real bikers, yum!

7 successes


The following "discussion" reinforced Circe's opinion that bike punks weren't qualified to be called a motorcycle gang. 2:1 odds in their favor, and the punks got their asses kicked. The bikers were so dismissive, they hadn't even bothered with weapons. But did take a three of the idiots' bikes onto their pickup. A lesson in proper respect or something.

Such fun! She gave the big guys extra hollow points for the Glamour and the entertainment they provided, though Circe only vocally told the bikers about the latter.