Sam

The city at night. Every streetlight flashed before my eyes, leaving a trace. On the road, only you, a couple of cars, and the roar of an engine. I crossed a bridge over a wide river, cooling after a hot day, sending mist up. You rode your iron horse. A motorcycle was your dream, associated with freedom. Every time you climbed behind the wheel of this monster, you emptied your head and simply lived in the moment.
Speeding past, trying to overtake the car in front, you saw the driver change lanes at the last moment. You sped out, nearly crashing. Anger boiled over like a raging volcano. At the next light, you pulled up next to a car and asked him to roll down the window. When the man rolled it down, you started scolding him, not noticing an expensive sports car pull up next to you. The driver got out and started threatening you, saying that "people like you" don't last more than a season. Without wasting a second, you grabbed the man by the collar and slammed his head into your helmet so hard that he immediately went limp and collapsed on the pavement. You didn't feel much pain because of the good helmet, but the man was unconscious.
Then a tall, well-built guy climbs out of a nearby car. He smiles a snow-white smile, quietly clapping his hands. He leans on the roof of his car.
"Bravo, princess, a knockout with one punch. And I thought it would be something more gentle."