Post by ♎Judge✝ on Jul 8, 2016 3:14:34 GMT -6
'Malcom and me go way back, so far in fact our Dad's were original members of the club, and so were our founding Grandparents. We went to school together, partied together, joined the Rangers together, and we both got patched in together.
When I became President, Malcolm was instantly my vote for my VP, and unanimously the club voted him as well. Our differences started when he wanted to start cooking dope and out sourcing it to clubs outside the state. What he was about to start was bullshit and our uppers weren't going to have that, dope was a war starter.
That was three years ago, since then he's started using and drinking, worse he's been doing deals behind the clubs back. It got the unwanted attention of the DEA, they pressed him and a dope head when pressed hard enough with threats against his family WILL DO ANYTHING.
I didn't know it was so they could get a case started on us and file RICO against the club...I put him in this position and it's got to be stopped before it can get inside the club.’
When I became President, Malcolm was instantly my vote for my VP, and unanimously the club voted him as well. Our differences started when he wanted to start cooking dope and out sourcing it to clubs outside the state. What he was about to start was bullshit and our uppers weren't going to have that, dope was a war starter.
That was three years ago, since then he's started using and drinking, worse he's been doing deals behind the clubs back. It got the unwanted attention of the DEA, they pressed him and a dope head when pressed hard enough with threats against his family WILL DO ANYTHING.
I didn't know it was so they could get a case started on us and file RICO against the club...I put him in this position and it's got to be stopped before it can get inside the club.’
Malcolm In Trouble
Beck County, SC.
20 minutes outside Greenville.
Malcolm's Trailer
Jesse sat for the longest time in Malcolm's drive way and just when he was going to pull out, do this deed another day, his best friend came flying in. Malcolm's bike came to a stop beside Jesse's and he gave the president a soft awkward smile, “Hey Jess, I figured you left with the other guys for your gig man.”
Jesse shook his head, “Nah I was going to catch up, we got some prez and Vee P shit to handle out by the Carter Company docks,” it was a lie and a cold misleading one, “The 86’ers wanna discuss new deal with us about the last $1300 we owe them. Your fuck up so you fix it.”
Frustrated Malcolm slams his helmet down, “Look I know I've been fucking up Jesse and I got us into the 86’er drama but I am trying. I'll make it right.”
Jesse smiled and out his helmet on, “I know you will brother.”
He then fires up his bike and takes off past Malcolm cutting a hard left towards the docks.
a hour later…
“Man I thought they was good on that deal,” Malcolm complained lighting a cigarette, “Now they want to recant a fucking month later? Hate gangsters.”
Jesse hadn't said a word since they arrived, his mind had been racing about days past. The last days. The last hours. And now the last moments.
“Man I need to know why? Why you are a informant for the DEA,” the words were cold when they left his mouth and the effect of them caused the same freezing stop of time, “I...I thought we was brothers for life man and this club was ours for the bastardized taking.”
“When did you find out?” Malcolm asked defeated for once, still yet to look Jesse in the eye or to even turn around, “Does Mr. Jury know?”
“Last night,” Jesse spat pulling out his knife, “And aye. He told me. Gave me the order, meant skipping club vote.”
Still not turning around Malcom began to remove his cut but Jesse grabbed him turning him around. Malcolm flinched away at the sight of the knife but Jesse set to removing patches. First his Vice President patch, which he shoved in his pocket. Next came the Iron Born patch, Jesse spit on this one and dropped it into the water.
“Keep the cut on,” Jesse said as he took some chains from the club boat, “I'll allow you to die a member, you deserve at least that.”
As Jesse wrapped chains around the defeated Malcolm, Malcolm just rambled on about how he saw this coming. The booze and drugs pushed away his wife and kids, made him wreckless to the club, and eventually a rat bastard. Death would be fair. The sooner, the swiftest.
When he was done Jesse stared at his best friend for a moment before giving him that fateful Judas kiss on the traitors cheek, “May the weight of your betrayal be a swift death.”
With the remaining length of chain Jesse pad locks them to three very heavy steel balls. A simple nod and tear roll down Malcolm's face before Jesse pushes him into the water.
It started with a lot of thrashing then the balls hit the water and it jerked Malcolm under. Then it was a steady supply of bubble; and finally nothing but the sea gulls calling out into the early morning sky.
Jesse remained a few moments then turned on his heels and stomped off towards his bike.
Deadly Rumble II
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Abandoned Warehouse
Four trucks sat parked in the middle of the most lit place of a warehouse, Uncle Lucius had set up a meeting with the Irish, not just with the buyers but the man's entire clan. The story was that the Rebel Bastards wanted a peace treaty, so Jesse acting as a big member of the Bastards and their President Bear, were going to show up with a shipment of guns as up front payment for loyalty.
Crates sat in front of the back of the large four trucks, stock of different weapons sat out in display, and cash on another table as insurance.
“I feel exposed here American,” Bear whispered as trucks began to pull inside the warehouse, seven in all, “I hope you know what yer’ don't eh.”
“I always know friend,” Jesse joked, “But I mostly spend that knowing guessing what to do with it.”
The buyer approaches the crates, “'ello lads. Bear.”
Bear nods, “Evening Packie, this is the American from our sister charter and the man with the pipeline we're offering.”
Packie and Jesse trade handshakes, Packies is firm showing he was a strong man. He'd been around for years and he didn't even know it was about to change for him, forever.
“If yeh' don' mind I got some’o me own weapons experts who wanna test yer' 'ardware brotha,” Packie rambled out as two men stepped forward to test, “Now yeh wanna talk 'bout tis truce between me men and yers. No more b’lood if we jus' buy yer' guns? Befer’ me men yeh said yeh wanted to confess loyalty to us…,” Packie stepped back so Bear could step forward, “Confess Bear. Show us tha' dyin’ loyalty.”
Bear did so but he smiled, “I confess so eh?”
All four doors of the four trucks roll open revealing a mod of men in each, guns aimed! Pow! Pow! Pop pop pop! The cracking of gun fire filled the entire warehouse mowing down the unready Irish men. Jesse ducked low as bullets whizzed over his head. Bear had stepped into Packie ad soon as the first couple of guns went off, planting a little silver knife to the hilt into Packies surprised face.
It was a successful massacre. Not a single Irish thug had made it out. Jesse watched as Bear laid Packie down, “Rest easy you Mick prick. Keep Hell warm eh.”
The Rebel Bastards let off a triumphant hoot of cheers as they embraced the few Saints that had joined the plot.
Packie holding his bloody mess of a gut spits up blood as he talks, “Well fook me, bleedin’ American's and yer' cohortin’ ways. Done us Irish over again but shite,” he laughed as his face grew paler and the blood thicker coming from his mouth, “Twas a good’in lad. Bear tis been fun.”
Then his head went slack and a final breath. Packie was dead. Bear turned to Jesse shaking his hand, “Thanks man. Our alliance is to you now. Saints for life eh.”
Beck County, SC.
20 minutes outside Greenville.
Malcolm's Trailer
Jesse sat for the longest time in Malcolm's drive way and just when he was going to pull out, do this deed another day, his best friend came flying in. Malcolm's bike came to a stop beside Jesse's and he gave the president a soft awkward smile, “Hey Jess, I figured you left with the other guys for your gig man.”
Jesse shook his head, “Nah I was going to catch up, we got some prez and Vee P shit to handle out by the Carter Company docks,” it was a lie and a cold misleading one, “The 86’ers wanna discuss new deal with us about the last $1300 we owe them. Your fuck up so you fix it.”
Frustrated Malcolm slams his helmet down, “Look I know I've been fucking up Jesse and I got us into the 86’er drama but I am trying. I'll make it right.”
Jesse smiled and out his helmet on, “I know you will brother.”
He then fires up his bike and takes off past Malcolm cutting a hard left towards the docks.
a hour later…
“Man I thought they was good on that deal,” Malcolm complained lighting a cigarette, “Now they want to recant a fucking month later? Hate gangsters.”
Jesse hadn't said a word since they arrived, his mind had been racing about days past. The last days. The last hours. And now the last moments.
“Man I need to know why? Why you are a informant for the DEA,” the words were cold when they left his mouth and the effect of them caused the same freezing stop of time, “I...I thought we was brothers for life man and this club was ours for the bastardized taking.”
“When did you find out?” Malcolm asked defeated for once, still yet to look Jesse in the eye or to even turn around, “Does Mr. Jury know?”
“Last night,” Jesse spat pulling out his knife, “And aye. He told me. Gave me the order, meant skipping club vote.”
Still not turning around Malcom began to remove his cut but Jesse grabbed him turning him around. Malcolm flinched away at the sight of the knife but Jesse set to removing patches. First his Vice President patch, which he shoved in his pocket. Next came the Iron Born patch, Jesse spit on this one and dropped it into the water.
“Keep the cut on,” Jesse said as he took some chains from the club boat, “I'll allow you to die a member, you deserve at least that.”
As Jesse wrapped chains around the defeated Malcolm, Malcolm just rambled on about how he saw this coming. The booze and drugs pushed away his wife and kids, made him wreckless to the club, and eventually a rat bastard. Death would be fair. The sooner, the swiftest.
When he was done Jesse stared at his best friend for a moment before giving him that fateful Judas kiss on the traitors cheek, “May the weight of your betrayal be a swift death.”
With the remaining length of chain Jesse pad locks them to three very heavy steel balls. A simple nod and tear roll down Malcolm's face before Jesse pushes him into the water.
It started with a lot of thrashing then the balls hit the water and it jerked Malcolm under. Then it was a steady supply of bubble; and finally nothing but the sea gulls calling out into the early morning sky.
Jesse remained a few moments then turned on his heels and stomped off towards his bike.
Deadly Rumble II
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Abandoned Warehouse
Four trucks sat parked in the middle of the most lit place of a warehouse, Uncle Lucius had set up a meeting with the Irish, not just with the buyers but the man's entire clan. The story was that the Rebel Bastards wanted a peace treaty, so Jesse acting as a big member of the Bastards and their President Bear, were going to show up with a shipment of guns as up front payment for loyalty.
Crates sat in front of the back of the large four trucks, stock of different weapons sat out in display, and cash on another table as insurance.
“I feel exposed here American,” Bear whispered as trucks began to pull inside the warehouse, seven in all, “I hope you know what yer’ don't eh.”
“I always know friend,” Jesse joked, “But I mostly spend that knowing guessing what to do with it.”
The buyer approaches the crates, “'ello lads. Bear.”
Bear nods, “Evening Packie, this is the American from our sister charter and the man with the pipeline we're offering.”
Packie and Jesse trade handshakes, Packies is firm showing he was a strong man. He'd been around for years and he didn't even know it was about to change for him, forever.
“If yeh' don' mind I got some’o me own weapons experts who wanna test yer' 'ardware brotha,” Packie rambled out as two men stepped forward to test, “Now yeh wanna talk 'bout tis truce between me men and yers. No more b’lood if we jus' buy yer' guns? Befer’ me men yeh said yeh wanted to confess loyalty to us…,” Packie stepped back so Bear could step forward, “Confess Bear. Show us tha' dyin’ loyalty.”
Bear did so but he smiled, “I confess so eh?”
All four doors of the four trucks roll open revealing a mod of men in each, guns aimed! Pow! Pow! Pop pop pop! The cracking of gun fire filled the entire warehouse mowing down the unready Irish men. Jesse ducked low as bullets whizzed over his head. Bear had stepped into Packie ad soon as the first couple of guns went off, planting a little silver knife to the hilt into Packies surprised face.
It was a successful massacre. Not a single Irish thug had made it out. Jesse watched as Bear laid Packie down, “Rest easy you Mick prick. Keep Hell warm eh.”
The Rebel Bastards let off a triumphant hoot of cheers as they embraced the few Saints that had joined the plot.
Packie holding his bloody mess of a gut spits up blood as he talks, “Well fook me, bleedin’ American's and yer' cohortin’ ways. Done us Irish over again but shite,” he laughed as his face grew paler and the blood thicker coming from his mouth, “Twas a good’in lad. Bear tis been fun.”
Then his head went slack and a final breath. Packie was dead. Bear turned to Jesse shaking his hand, “Thanks man. Our alliance is to you now. Saints for life eh.”
