Chapter Seven
The businessman had lost any shred of dignity and was simply begging them not to hurt him. His whole world had become a whirlwind of women on motorcycles, engine revs and melted tire. He had fallen on his knees indifferent to the fact that he was ruining his expensive tailored suit and was holding his leather briefcase to shield himself from the occasional punches and taunts. Those seemed to be more aimed at terrifying him rather than cause any real damage.
The riders were three, dressed in full motorcycle gear, but despite the blur and the burnt tire you could see bulletproof vests and huge military knives that were waved around menacingly.
The women’s battle cries had a primitive effect on the people around the place, who had disappeared discreetly and were only watching
