Moto Moto Character Novels & Stories

They found a cherry-red Harley motorcycle. “So that is why Baba Yaga gave us helmets,” Anya said. She had never ridden a motorcycle before. “Do you know how to drive this old thing?” Morozko laughed. “Of course. I used to travel cross-country on motorcycles, before I was saddled with you.” He fixed his helmet atop his head and lowered the visor. “Let us hope you like speeding.”

Ember let out a faint laugh and pulled the clutch, "Bye!" She turned the motorcycle around and accelerated towards the road. Since it's already ten and thirty in the evening, the road is clear and fewer vehicles are occupying the road. "Oh, Goddess of wisdom, Athena, please smash her head with your shield. She badly needs it," Pox mumbled and shook his head. Pox went back inside to get his things but he saw lots of paper on top of Ember's desk and curiously read them. "Sullivan Machoss, DD?" Pox whispered to himself and saw a picture of Sullivan. White man, tall. Hair like a chicken, face like a criminal. Lots of piercing, some tattoos on his shoulder. Pox whispered those descriptions in his

Then we grabbed my motorcycle and brought it to Miles’s flat which wasn’t very far from the cafe. I looked at my motorcycle and pondered if I should give the keys to him or not. I’d never lent ‘Mocha’ — what I’d named my bike although it was a black motorcycle and not dark brown — to anyone before. Miles seemed to notice my reluctance as he shook his head, smiling. “It’s fine, Xy. You can keep the keys. I won’t use it anyway.”

Mpok Indun shouted indignantly, his skullcap was drooping, his hair was tangled with high tension. Alif and Babe Rojali were frightened and immediately nodded in agreement. They then entered the house. *** After lunch, Alif intends to go for a walk and try out Emen, his favorite motorbike, which he has lived in for two years. Thank goodness Babe Rojali wanted to take care of his motorbike. Babe turned out to be good too. Alif wanted to cry of Bombay. (It means melodramatic). Suddenly Alif's motorbike key was removed from its place. The motor automatically stops running.

He approached a motorcycle. “I’m not a princess.” I snorted out a laugh, and he gave me a look. “Are you kidding me? Katara, you are the literal definition of a princess. You’re the only daughter of the king of this town.” He proceeded to swing his leg over the motorcycle, successfully climbing on top of it. “Come on, join me.” “I didn’t know you had a motorcycle.” I admired how he looked sitting on top of the motor vehicle. It gave him a bad-boy aesthetic. All he was missing was the dark sunglasses over his eyes.

But that wasn’t why they wanted to capture it. All of them were painted in a greyish silver, which gave them a sense of authority. It was as though they were all wearing well-used suits of medieval armor. At the head of the team was a highly-tuned, relatively powerful, and well-armored mecha. — Pilot: Mad Monk Role: Flanker Loadout: Terra Nach Mar “Charlatan” Skirmisher Frame [A] Ragnarok Armaments “Sledgefist” Spiked Cestus [B] x2

After days of thinking, Dominic finally found a way to earn money. He bought a secondhand motorcycle and said he would drive passengers between town and the village. “Honey, I can still make money,” he said, forcing a smile. “People always need rides. I’ll drive slowly and carefully.” The motorcycle had been modified before we bought it. The seat was much longer than usual, welded awkwardly to the frame. It looked unstable, especially on the winding mountain road that led back to our village. I frowned when I saw it. “Is this safe?” I asked. “Your leg hasn’t healed properly. What if something happens?”

" The nasty guy said with a look of disdain. The twins turn their body and look who's the fella talking too. This person is one of the disgusting fellas here in Warshwall city, Motis. With a big build, scroungy body and a big scar on his forehead. The twins knew his not a good guy. There's also other members from his group with special characteristics. The Mohawk guy who's named "The hair" and the pig fella named "Tan". These twins were from the modern world and if something happened, they knew they can talk it out calmly without any bloodshed, especially for Zia. She's a delicate girl. "Well, well, well. Hello there, Mr. Motis. How's your day today, good sir?" Zia asks with a lovable smile.

And then he veered toward something that made me pause. A motorcycle. Not one of those plastic, soulless speed machines—but a real one. Matte black. Low-slung. Growling with restrained power. It looked like it had eaten roads for breakfast and still hadn’t had enough. I slowed to a stop, lips curving into a smirk as the machine came into full view. Pure muscle and menace. A beast with two wheels and no apologies. Of course Ryden rode a motorcycle. It was too perfect. The tattoos, the rough edges, the way he’d let me break him open with my thighs and a whisper—he was built for this kind of cliché. The good kind. The kind that made you ache.

"Your flying magical weapon is very unique." Riding on the black motorcycle, Golden Cicada propped up the unconscious Sweet Sound, with one hand on Ding Hao's shoulder. Fathomless darkness whistled past them on their sides. There was a strange vrooming noise as Ding Hao revved up his magic motorcycle, the Black Whirlwind. It really appeared like a black whirlwind, advancing at top speed into the vast wilderness.