It started as a low rumble that built and built, reverberating off the walls of downtown.
Smiles peaked out at the increasing sound from dirty, scarred faces, their owners looking out toward the street from boxes and alleys, others through the open soup kitchen window that always burped out the friendly scent of baking bread.
They’d all heard the rumors. And it looked like they were about to find out if they were for real.
Corner dealers looked up like startled foxes and rushed to finish their transactions before slinking out of sight just in case. Streetwalkers stared with hope in the rumble’s direction, making sure their pimps couldn’t see their expressions.
The hum of engines roared as those approaching finally turned the corner, formed up in a double line. A Hesketh Vampire led the pack, followed by Kawasaki Ninjas, some Indian Chiefs, and even Hogs. The smell of exhaust filled the air. Glass rattled with the noise of their passing. Reflective sunglasses shone under the bright sun, as black habits flowed behind them in the wind, their underskirts hitched up so they could ride.
As they came to a red light, the Mother Superior reached back to caress her bat sized cross in anticipation; her sawed-off shotgun poked up above the seat from the other side of the machine. Both were within easy reach and ready for battle, just like she liked them.
The Mother Superior cracked her knuckles. After all the training, after all the sacrifice, the Church had finally deemed them ready. Souls would now be saved. She and her sisters were up to the task. Using whatever means necessary.
The Virgin Vixens – dispensing tough love in the name of God.
Prepare to be saved.