Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTION.
Springtime howls and yowls, Shapeshifter Lovers.
With Easter next Sunday, well, I thought I'd feature Bart, the Bad Biker Bunny. He's a secondary character in my current WIP. Although, Bart would hardly consider himself secondary -- hell, not at all. As a member of the Wolf Peak Motorcycle Club, and a good buddy with the hero, Razor -- yes, Mr. White Bunny Man rides on mission to save the Peak. Bart first appeared in a flash scene I wrote back in June 2011, so he's lived in the Peak for a longtime now.
Here's the current chapter first, then the original flash scene...
From my current WIP, tentatively titled: "Year of the Razorback Biker" ... this is an 'unedited' action scene starring my hero, Razor, the razorback boar shifter, and starring his two motorcycle buddies, Stephanos and Bart ... they are part of Wolf Peak's Motorcycle Club.
Engine on full throttle, Razor roared inside the hidden tunnel through the rock-face hologram. Stephanos, the wolf-lion man, and Bart—who was known as the Bad Bunny Biker in Wolf Peak—followed in his wake.
The subterranean passage was a fully operational relic, built during the times when planet Earth served as an intergalactic port. Huge in dimension, the arched tunnel had been constructed by an ET civilization before the time of Atlantis.
Yeah, sized for giants, to Razor's eye the interior looked like brass with an overlay of illuminated glass. More interesting, the metallic-composite sides of the tunnel reverberated with the thunderous sound of their Harleys. This always alerted the patriot network, those stationed as watchmen.
Already, Dante's cyber team had received a few coded messages about suspicious sightings. The vids showed odd work crews, all of the people Chinese or Asian in appearance. Their espionage equipment had been all too obvious.
Within seven hour's time, they'd delivered the Paul Revere message, and gathered valuable on-the-ground intel from their network. While riding inside the tunnel, the sky-spy platforms, the satellite surveillance had been no problem.
However, Vivanko, the last freedom leader on their list, lived with his herd clan near a national forest---one of the least inhabited regions in Montana.
"Our elk shifter buddy just mind contacted," Stephanos shouted. "Vivanko had to change location. He's meeting us at the hidden springs."
"Got it," Razor called back.
They sped toward the nearest camouflaged exit point in the worldwide tunnel system. Similar underground passages snaked from Romania to distant destinations, including Egypt, as Razor had discovered when on another delivery mission for Dante.
"Invisibility field activated." Bart hollered in his infamous baritone.
"Activated," he and Stephanos chorused.
Slowing to a crawl, the three of them emerged in deep forest and onto a steep winding road. Immediately, they switched on snow vaporizors, super beams that converted the thick white covering to crystalline vapor.
Cruising at a moderate speed, they rode between fifteen foot walls of solid rock. In the early morning light one side remained shadowed, while the other glistened.
Zapped by sudden foreknowledge, Razor boomed, "Battle weapons at the ready." He slung his plasma cannon into firing position, cradling the large barrel in the crook of his arm.
"Gettin' the same bad vibes," Stephanos hollered. "Armed, deadly, and ready."
"On auto pilot. Watchin' our rear," Bart shouted. "Something nasty spooky in the air, fellas."
Mere moments later, Razor audibly heard Khryssa's voice in his ear. "Approaching fast, nine soldiers riding on rocket-type craft. Can't see their faces. Will psi-unmask. Hold on."
"Nine potential enemy. Collision course," Razor hollered to Bart and Stephanos. "More info coming." He sent his own psi-awareness ahead to investigate.
"Black-ops super soldiers. They are traitors," Khryssa reported in his ear.
Razor withdrew his psi-observation at her words. On patrol, or looking for us? he asked himself.
"Nine black-ops traitors ahead," Razor quietly spoke into his helmet's com unit, informing Bart and Stephanos. "Stun and mind wipe 'em."
"You're on their radar. They've penetrated your cloaking field," Khryssa urgently warned. "They're speeding up. Drawing weapons."
"We've been detected. But run silent," Razor com-spoke to Bart and Stephanos.
"Firefight," Bart com-responded. "I'm ready to wipe the road with their butts."
"Ready to blast and mind-blast 'em," Stephanos com-growled.
"Destroy, if necessary," Razor commanded.
Again, he cast his psi-sight over the enemy. Ready to kill, they carried mini-missile launchers and accelerated their anti-grav, rocket-propelled craft.
"Head hunters comin' for us." Razor described what he'd observed to Stephanos and Bart.
"Yep. Bet they're huntin' us freedom lovers," Stephanos barked.
"I'm taking down the last three varmints," Bart snarled like only he could through his com unit.
"Middle three." Stephanos spoke in his wolf-lion snarl.
"That leaves me to roast the first three," Razor rumbled in his snarl. "Here we go, road warriors. Drop shields. Blast their asses at will."
The narrow mountain road took a twist not far ahead. Given his truffle-sensitive nose, the stench of the nine super soldiers hit Razor's nostrils, even as the low whine of their rocket flyers owned his ears.
Riding three abreast, he, Bart, and Stephanos gunned their engines, racing their designed-for-battle mortocycles. It wasn't their first firefight together.
"Enemy drones spotted, laser equipped," Khryssa spoke to Razor's ear only. "Dante's flight team is intercepting. You are also shielded from satellite weapons."
"Take it to them, Porker," she fiercely added.
Gotta love my Khryssa's fighting spirit.
"Enemy laser drones are being intercepted," Razor com-reported to Stephanos and Bart. "Let it rip and roar, boys."
They thunder-boomed around the bend. Weapons aimed, black-garbed soldiers streaked toward them. Yeah, at dang rocket speed.
Before they could deploy their missiles, faster on the trigger, Razor unloaded his monster cannon. Boom! Boom! Boom! Plasma flashed like lightning through the air squarely striking the three lead combatants.
Paralyzed, they flew backward, and in a domino affect, the soldiers collided into their following comrades. Airborne, the six lost the aim of their weapons as their rocket craft haphazardly flew between the natural rock walls.
Swiftly, the remaining enemy righted their anti-grav craft, leaping astride. At roaring speed, Razor, Stephanos, and Bart charged. The black-clad traitors fired their deadly missiles, even as Stephanos discharged his cannon weapon.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Streaming plasma demolished the incoming mini missiles, then struck this second group of super soldiers. But, with less force than a direct strike.
Thrown off the rocket craft their ruthless foes scrambled searching for the launcher weapons. Razor beamed their brains with his sidearm before they could take aim. He watched them collapse, unconscious.
Bart shot his plasma wad. Boom! Boom! Boom! He disintegrated three softly whistling missiles. Like wind-driven mist they disappeared, harmless. His strikes upended the advanced rocket craft as well, stopping their flight.
Razor thumb-switched his weapon to mind wipe as he watched Stephanos plasma-blast the last three soldiers again. He grounded them. Their arms and legs flailed, and within moments, their brains went dark. Yeah, they didn't move.
Sliding their Hawgs to a halt, within mere feet of their enemies, Razor, Bart, and Stephanos leaped onto the partly snowy road, given their vaporizors hadn't been fully efficient.
Rapidly, as if they'd tossed their brains into a washing machine, they mind-cleaned the nine super soldiers. This, despite the blocking helmets they wore.
"Nothing like the super-duper gadgets Dante keeps roundin' up for us," Bart wise-cracked. "Yep, and havin' our genius inventors make."
The man-sized white rabbit smirked, then blew on the end of his plasma cannon, as if it smoked. He preferred his rabbit humanoid form to his pure man form.
"You ain't lyin'." Stephanos clapped Bart on the back once the three of them had dragged the limp ops team to the side of the road. "Those are some bad ass black leathers you're sporting, bunny bro. Gotta know where you got 'em."
"Carrot juice whiskey on the rocks, and I'll spill." Bart toothy grinned.
"I'll buy a round," Razor joined in. "Those leathers are bad ass. And I want one of them Kaiser spiked helmets." He tapped the helmet's hard shell.
"Sure, Boss Hawg. Ya want one of those bronze boars wearing a Kaiser helmet, too?"
"Already got one of those. A family heirloom. But thanks for the offer, bunny biker man."
From the corner of his eye, Razor saw Stephanos twist, turn an ear. "I hear Vivanco's road-warrior machines." He strode toward the elk shifter and his crew. The rumbling sound of their arrival echoed off the rock.
"You got the schematics of these rockateer rides, right?" Bart asked, as he pushed one to the side.
"Yep," Razor patted the tiny cam device on his leather jacket, "all scanned and recorded. Our engineers are gonna have a feast with this advanced stuff."
Once he and Bart finished shoving the anti-grav crafts to the side of the road, they headed for Stephanos and Vivanco. The two were deep in conversation.
"All clear," Khryssa spoke to Razor's ear. "Enemy contained. For now."
Thank you, babe. Get some sleep. You've lost shuteye watching over me.
"Quite a battle performance, Big Bad Boar. I admit I'm impressed. Stay safe."
The vibes of Khryssa's weariness engulfed him, and Razor psi-felt her disconnect. Damn if he didn't glow inside like a love-struck fool from her words of praise.
TOO CUTE, HUH?
The following FLASH SCENE has been revised, Part of a series, it was originally written on June 14, 2011, and was featured on the ShapeShifter Seductions blog, which I departed from due to irreconcilable differences.
White Fang and Bart, the bad biker bunny star in this scene. A yuppie type has upset some of the local werewolf gals by poo-pooing their existence. They intend to make believers out of him.
White Fang Khent bio: White Fang, Ace Crime Reporter
The Super Wolf, who keeps his identity a well-guarded secret, has arrived in Talbot’s Peak, Montana on a mission. The hideaway town has been taken over by a werewolf pack. Their out-of-the-den bravado endangers not only their lives, but the entire shapeshifter world on Earth. Determined to keep his own wolfkind safe and undiscovered, White Fang realizes he must stay to protect the townsfolk from the ruthless enemies they are clueless about. However, he soon discovers he’s stepped into a real life version of As the Werewolf World Turns.
Was a Reporter for the Guts and Butts Gazette, White Fang Khent - byline
Currently, White Fang Owns and Runs the Moonrise Daily Tribune
He's a Syxxrion Shifter
Note: these days in Wolf Peak Territory White Fang's true identity is no longer a well-guarded secret.
White Fang loped up the steep rocky ground, feeling the power of his wolfen body. The lunar eclipse energies fired his blood, and as he ran, he let his thoughts wander.
These days his thoughts rarely strayed far from Pasha. Yet, discipline took over, and White Fang tuned into the source energies around him. Nature always spoke. Scents on the wind. The rustling of the other creatures. Trees singing to one another. The vibrations of the Mother herself.
White Fang gathered it all in.
He’d been careful to remain out of Zhere Ghan's territory so he could race wild and free. Still, the night wind faintly carried the potent tang of the Tiger Yakuza.
Once White Fang reached the top of the ridge, he slowed, weaving through a long patch of large sharp rocks. The sweet hot scent of a rabbit blasted inside his nostrils. With his hunting instinct aroused, and his curiosity as well, White Fang trotted in that direction.
Indolently stretched out on a boulder, Bad Biker Bunny, or Bart as he was known around Talbot Peak, regarded him. Unconcerned that he stuck out like a sore thumb to any predator in the area, he soaked in the moon’s rays, his white coat gleaming brightly.
We got trouble, he telepathed without preamble.
Yeah? White Fang sniffed as he padded toward the white rabbit, satisfying his wolfen hunger for the moment.
Spitting-into-the-wind bastard is about to be werewolf cuisine. With a confident twitch of his ears, Bart morphed to his human form. He grinned carelessly. “Delectable, ain’t I?”
White Fang gave a vigorous shake, then shifted to human. “Not now,” he answered. “What’s the scoop?”
“The MF pissed off Veronica and her gal pals at the movie theater a couple of hours ago. Heard he guffawed all the way through “Twilight.” They’re stalking him now. The puffed-up shithead is enjoin’ the lunar eclipse at the clearing closest to town. Oh yeah, he invited any real werewolves to join him.”
Despite the obvious save-the-day emergency, White Fang shook his head in disgust. As a plan formed, he asked, “How about playing the hero?”
“Bad Bunny to the rescue. Sure. What do you have in mind, Alien Wolfman?”
White Fang mind-sent his plan, and when Bart gave a curt nod, he took several steps back. “Nude Super Dude to the rescue,” he quipped. “Yeah, no cape to step on this time.”
With a quick grin, White Fang increased his frequency. His feet lifted from the forest floor. “You will keep my secret?” he dead-panned his expression for his own amusement, and to watch the rabbit shifter’s reaction.
For a split second Bart’s eyes bulged in surprise. But only for a split second. “No problem, nude super dude. Got a few secrets of my own.”
Spinning upward, above the treetops, White Fang flashed toward the clearing. Before his mind’s eye, he watched Veronica and her three gal pals surround the now terrified human.
The brainless wonder brandished his night-vision glasses and his camcorder at the snarling circle of werewolves. With snapping fangs, they took turns darting at him, then retreating.
His screams for help might as well have been spitting into the wind for all the good it did him. With hideous growls, the bitch werewolves tightened their circle. Relishing the fear of their prey, they menaced him, their eyes glowing blood-red.
Intent on tormenting her kill, Veronica snaked her neck. As her fangs sliced through his jeans, and scraped his flesh, Mr. Pain-in-the-ass threw his camcorder at her head. It bounced off like a rubber ball.
One of the other werewolves snatched it out of the air, crunched it once, then tossed it aside. Screaming his lungs out, the human pounded his night-vision glasses on Veronica’s head as she mouthed his calf.
Having waited for this very moment, White Fang dived downward. Wrapping his arm around the paralyzed, about-to-pass-out human, he streaked upward. Seconds later, White Fang landed on the backwoods trail Bart had ridden down on his way to the boulder.
Sure enough, the Biker waited. Partly concealed by a large tree trunk, he sat astride his Harley.
Swinging him around, White Fang gripped the yuppie dude’s shoulders and gave a good shake. “You all right, mister? That was a close call.”
His glassy eyes circled as he attempted to focus. “Wha... what? Who are you?”
While he waited for recognition to dawn, White Fang steadied the pee-and-feces stinky human. “We met at O’Malley’s bar. Remember?”
“O’Malley? Who the hell is that?” Slumping forward, the shocked-out-of-his-mind yuppie grabbed hold of White Fang’s forearms.
“The werewolf bar. You came in for a beer. Riled some folks.”
“Yeah, I remember now. Get your shit hands off me.”
White Fang let go, and had the satisfaction of watching the idiot human stumble backward. He managed to stay standing, his sudden fury the reason.
“What was that shit? Payback by you and some of your friends dressed up like werewolves? I’m calling the cops.”
“Hey, you don’t look so good, mister.” White Fang stepped forward, offering his hand. Now covered in fur, his hand changed into a paw. “Need some help getting back to town?”
Absolutely frozen, his jaw hanging, yuppie dude stared. “It’s a trick, right,” he garbled out.
“A friendly piece of advice, mister.” White Fang let his wolf coat emerge. “You better have that leg looked at. If the skin is broken you could be infected. You know, on the next full moon, a good quality steel cage --"
With a hoarse shriek, Mr. Yuppie whirled around. Not surprisingly, his feet tangled, and he nearly fell to his knees. Catching himself, he scrambled forward pumping his legs like uneven pistons. As he tried to get traction on the dirt trail, White Fang shifted to full wolf.
Lunging, White Fang sank his fangs into butt meat, and left large bruises before he let go. At the same moment, Bart roared into view.
“Jump on back!’ Bart hollered, and slid to a stop.
Smiling wickedly to himself, White Fang gave chase.
UH-OH! IS THE EASTER BUNNY IN TROUBLE?