Wild in the Streets, Barely Alive

So I often have ideas swimming around in my head for ages and get really lazy about getting them down on paper. But recently I had some time to kill for writing, and because I was trying to work on one piece, I had a brief lightning strike moment in which I wrote a scene for...well, I'm not sure.

I have a few ideas for it, but I'm not sure where to take it. So I figure getting it out into the internetz might lead to some sort of inspiration.

So here tis:

As she walked through the doors she had everyone in the bar's attention. Hardly surprising, really. It was full of bikers, middle-aged bearded men in leather. In age she beat them all by about 20 years.

The women in the bar, scarce as they were, resembled the men more than they resembled her. She wasn't giving anyone in the bar the satisfaction of a first glance, let alone a second.

She sat down at the bar and waited. To the bar patrons, and probably the rest of the world, the girl was worthy of more than a cursory once-over. She was wearing a long black t-shirt that was supposed to qualify as a dress, accompanied by ripped tights and scuffed motorcycle boots. Her long, bright red hair was what could only be described as a mess. The ghost of an up-do remained, making it look as though she had pulled her hair out in a rage.

Her make-up was similarly messy, with mascara that looked like it was running down her face and her lipstick smudged. It reminded some of the Joker. The dark smudges around her blue eyes made them blaze out of her face. All in all, this girl looked like she'd been in a big scrap. The entire bar wondered who had won the fight. All bets were on her.

But one patron found her absurd. He leaned against the bar, standing near to where she was sitting. He took his time before speaking. "You know, Halloween's over, Honey." His female companion cackled, the sound slicing through the atmosphere.

She swiftly turned to face him, and her blue eyes burned into his. The shitkicking grin on his face faltered, flickered, went out. The bartender came over soon after.

"You got ID?" he asked, knowing the answer. She stared at him for what seemed like a long time. The bar collectively held ther breath.

She got up and stormed out. The bar followed her with their eyes. Soon conversation returned to normal, except for the guy who had to stare into her eyes. He didn't say a word for the rest of the night.

I have a couple of stories this could fit into. Is there a mystical element? Is she just some punk kid trying to forge her identity? Is she some assassin in the making, waiting to be brought under some more experienced person's wing? Is she a time-traveller having a rough time of it? These are the contexts I've previously created that this heroine could fall into. Is she even a heroine? Not sure yet, but any suggestions are welcome and appreciated.