Editing Warhammer High (section)

==Racing the Khan==
I was at a bike rally when I first met her. Not one of the big ones, but the kind of local shindig where you can find some really crazy shit. She was riding the biggest, baddest bike I'd ever seen. It had to be a custom job, probably built it herself or had someone she knew really well do it. She was wearing a leather jacket and an expression of absolute confidence, in herself, in her skills, in her machine.

It was beautiful.

I worked up the courage to talk to her and found myself vindicated. She was as cool as she looked, and quite a bit friendlier. She didn't dismiss me and I wasn't TOO intimidated by her. I knew bikes, and actually paid attention to personal hygiene, and that gave me a leg up on almost anyone else there. I complimented her bike, and she offered me a ride.

I won't say she didn't wink when she said it, but I won't say she did.

Two weeks later I'm astride my own bike. Nothing to sneeze at, but not exactly a monster like Hana's. The rumble of the engine is some comfort. Something stable and steady I can focus on to distract myself from my nervousness. Maybe I'm a romantic bastard, but dammit, I wanted to impress her dad. Maybe it's love, who can say?

I'm contemplating my navel like that, when suddenly the fucking KHAN rolls up beside me. If Hana's bike was a monster, his was some kind of eldritch chopper from beyond the abyss. The whole thing looked like someone had taken a single massive engine and bolted a seat to the top and wheels to the bottom. The Khan himself grinned at me and pulled his shades down to get a good look at me. It was only then that I noticed the tiny figure seated behind him as Hana. She grinned too, almost sheepishly. I'd only just put two and two together when the Khan revved his bike's engines, jets of flame spurting forth from it's exhaust pipes as he turned back to the road.

I'd have thought I'd panic. But I set my teeth instead.

"For Hana."

And the race was on.

Needless to say, I lost. But I did keep up, and I even managed to stay on my bike despite the insanity of some of those turns.

I stood up, shakily, ready to hang my head in shame, when I felt a pair of leather-clad arms wrap around my neck, the smell of road-grit and engine oil filling my nose. I looked up into Hana's smiling face (Great emperor she's tall..) and felt a hell of a lot better.

"Not bad." I heard a heavy voice say. "With practice I'd say you'd make a fine enough white scar."

I heard myself thank him, just before he peeled off down the highway and Hana sat in the seat of my bike, patting the seat behind her with a smoldering look in her eye I can still recall perfectly.

And that's when I knew that from then on, everything would be awesome.