Mike W.'s Valentine to the NGG

He approaches the town, a small stirring of fear runs around his stomach. Or possibly it was simply hunger, it had become hard to tell. He had traveled long to be here. The gauntlet of horrors that he had traversed were as a single blurred memory in his exhausted brain.

The once smooth whirr of his mount had become rough. Perhaps it was the plauge of locusts that he encountered yesturday / years ago. Who knows. Lightly stroking the lever, he guides his faithful steed to the side of the road to pause. He flips the switch, giving the steed a moment of rest. In the now silent dawn, he dismounts and glances at the brigtening sky. Removing his helm, an errant breeze ruffles his unruly hair.

A casual observer would not pay him much mind, passing by. A more curious passer-by might be mildly amused at the touseled nature of his hair, the oddity of his grey and black suit, or perhaps the nature of his transportation. A more perceptive individual might note the calm expression on his face, one of inner peace, of even love. Only the most astute of observers would note the slight golden glow about his head or the suggestion of ... somthing under the back of his suit. No mortal could every fully see him for what he is, though.

Mike shook himself out of the reverie he found himself in. His journey was nearly at an end. Before him lay the lair of the Nasty Girly Gang. He had traveled though heaven and hell (in a very literal fashion) to be here. Forded might rivers, dodged mighty Fords, avoided The Man, and all that Mother Nature had to throw at him. He navigated it all. Mike ran a hand through his hair, not changing one bit the chaotic nature of it's locks, and put his helmet back on.

Thumbing the starter, his mount stirred back to live. It seemed a bit reluctant. It's master had been demanding and it was tired, but Mike smiled down at it, spoke softly, and it settled down in to an even, if fatigued, idle. Mike smoothly pulled out into the road way.

Moments later, he was sharply braking, swerving, then accelerating. From seemingly nowhere a Volvo 850 Turbo Wagon with Newy Ork tags bore down on him. Having missed it's mark, the Volvo pulled a boot-legger's turn and accelerated toward him. Mike down shifted and whacked open the throttle of the 1000cc Genesis motor of his bike. The GTS surged ahead, it's exhaust note changing from a gentle whirr to a open howl of power. Mike leaned forward a bit to help keep the nose down as the motor raced through it's torque peak. Soon, he shifted. Mike glanced into his mirror. In the small image mostly obscured by his elbow, he saw the Volvo waver and vanish.

Mike slowed and glanced about. It was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps it was an illusion of an already fatigued brain? Moments later, in a shimmering of Star-Trek effects, the Volvo decloaked and swooped in for the kill. Mike, caught unawares by the cloaking device, found himself with out an escape route.

"Right. That's it!", he thought to himself. Summoning all his strength and power, Mike launched himself off of the motorcycle. From hidden slots in his Aerostich, great white wings unfolded with a whoosh. His anger awoken, he allowed his full power to be seen. With a golden glow surrounding him like a shield, Michael hovered above the road, in front of the speeding Volvo. Inside, he could make out a young lady with a tube top and miniskirt on. She had a vicious expression of blatent hate on her face. Michael's bike was continuing on it's course, riderless. The volvo bore down on it relentlessly. Michael bore down on the Volvo with all the power of a full Archangel of Ged. Drawing his flaming sword, Michael struck the maniacal car and it's maniacal driver with all his might. Sparks flew as the sword carved it's way through the grill, motor, dash. Janice let out one short electronic scream as the sword cut her in twain. The finest Swedish engineering was no match for an enraged archangel. Thus crippled, the volvo missed it's mark and drove into a ditch. Shortly there after, deploying air bags ignighted fuel vapors and the car burned to a cinder.

Michael swooped down to his bike, just before it ran off the road. He took control, folded his wings and calmed himself.

Mike road into the town, his journey completed. He had to. The pure, chaste love he felt for all members of the NGG compelled him on this oddessy. He hoped and prayed that they would have him for their valentine. To just for a little while be the object of their affections. For that would have made the journey worth it.

Of course, the trip home would suck.