The Worlds Deadliest Transvestite Biker Gang
Chaos is everywhere. Anarchy rules. The Valkyrie has claimed the highways.
03/03/2033 Nova Scotia
They pulled him out of the vehicle his head split from the hatchet planted in his forehead. They beat him with chains until his body went limp. After he had stopped struggling they dragged him towards their motorcycles and checked his breathing. He was alive.
"Looks like we finally caught up to you young Henrik," Alfred said in his deep voice and thick Danish Accent. "Lars is very much looking forward to seeing you again sweetie." He was wearing his finest floral print smock dress, bright red lipstick and a black leather sleeveless vest with the clubs' colours. On his left shoulder, he carried a Chloé Joan suede leather small satchel bag filled with 7.62 x 39mm ammunition for his Kalashnikov assault rifle which he shouldered on his right. This all came together with a pair of steel toe-capped boots which he promptly stomped into Henrik's already broken face.
Henrik grew up on the Island of Lolland in Denmark. He was 13 when the cataclysmic event that shook the world happened. No one quite knew how it all came about other than it had something to do with an orphan with a heart-shaped locket. At first, it began with a shutdown in all electronic communication, then power, nuclear reactors blew up and rockets were fired all over the world. There was nuclear fallout across different parts of the earth and a new hybrid humanoid creature had emerged wreaking havoc across the continents. It seemed like the colder climates of the earth remained largely untouched by the scourge of this new mutated creature.
Henrik survived his early teens wandering the hell hole that was once known as Scandinavia. By 16 he had joined The Valkyrie, a biker gang that was an offshoot of a much larger international outlaw motorcycle club that had long dispersed. Now at 22 working as a rogue mercenary and hired gun for the variety of clans and factions of survivors along the eastern seaboard of what was once called the U.S.A, The Valkyrie had finally caught up to him.
The Valkyrie originated from Scandinavia as a faction of the biggest outlaw motorcycle club in the world, but when the world fell apart old allegiances and alliances fell apart. Now there were only scattered factions and warring tribes of various peoples, fighting each other as well as the mutated monstrosities that had emerged from the collapse of civilisation. The Valkyrie held it together as the only and last standing biker gang in Scandinavia. Ruthless in their temperament and true to their outlaw roots they terrorised the highways of the world as they expanded from Denmark to mainland Europe and North America. Where society had collapsed a void had been created. A void filled by the most hideous of creatures, the vilest scum and most savage of outlaws. Whereas most folks fought to survive, these elements like The Valkyrie thrived. In this new world, you were either predator or were prey.
The Valkyrie wore women's clothing. It began with a trial by combat between the old leader and the new one, Lars. Lars decided to wear a dress for the occasion, accompanied by his supporters wearing women's clothing as a way to mock their enemies. He beat the old leader in fair combat and became the clan leader. He was considered an utter nutcase by his peers and almost always off his head on amphetamine. Yet he had an intelligence and fighting skill unrivalled by many and a leadership quality unmatched by most. Ever since they cross-dressed for battle they never looked back. They did not identify as women but saw their feminine attire as the ultimate war cry. They took their new name as The Valkyrie. Despite their unrelenting brutality, they had a saving grace. They adopted stray children and Henrik was one of those children.
04/03/2033 New Jersey
Getting to Henrik was not easy but they managed it.
He was hogtied and put on the back of Alfred's chopper. After a days ride they arrived at Valkyrie HQ. He was thrown off the bike and dragged towards the main entrance. By this time they had treated his wounds and kept him alive and conscious. They entered the main gate, unbound his feet and walked him to what they called The Hearth. Lars, towering at 6"7 dressed in his Club Monaco espresso brown trench coat, a pink floral off the shoulder playsuit, black mascara war paint and purple lipstick stared into space. His wild unkempt blonde hair laid on his shoulders as he faced the broken clock positioned opposite the main entrance.
"We have him for you my Jarl" Alfred spoke.
"Greetings young Henrik," Lars responded calmly.
Lars turned slowly to Henrik with a sleeveless leather jacket in hand and revealed the gangs' emblem on the back of this jacket as he presented it to Henrik. Henrik eyed the clubs' logo remorsefully and bowed his head. Then came a slap that had landed on Henrik's face at such force that blood spat from his mouth. Lars massaged his right palm and stared at Henrik with a wolf-like fury.
"Do you remember what this is Henrik? Do you remember what this means?" He screamed, foaming at the mouth like a feral beast.
Henrik stayed silent.
"Where is she, Henrik? Where is the girl with the heart-shaped locket? The one from your dreams."
Henrik raised his head and responded with a ferocious calm.
"Far away from you Lars."
04/03/2033 New York
Jamie sat on his favourite leather armchair on the roof of the New York Harbour clubhouse watching an approaching silhouette. A call came on the radio.
"Jamie, has he arrived yet?"
"Not yet sir." He responded.
He laid down his sawn-off shotgun that lay across his lap and picked up his binoculars. A female child in the distance had collapsed to her knees as Jamie's riders' approach her. One of the riders sees she's a little girl clasping something tightly in her hand. All he can see is a chain dangling from the clenched fist. He calls out on the radio.
"Jamie we have a live one here, awaiting orders."
Jamie brought the radio to his lips. "Bring her back to HQ, make sure she's watered and fed and send a scout looking for Henrik"