Page 13 of Scar

It didn’t take a genius to figure out where the name came from. When José had first brought Scar to Mount Grove to be introduced to Steel, José had told Scar that his past was his own. He did not need to share more than he wanted. José knew that Scar had had a nickname in the military. Unlike José, who’d kept his moniker of ‘Bulldog’, he’d rightfully guessed that Scar would not want to keep the name ‘Solo’. When he’d been working the underground fight clubs in Texas, the organizers had called him ‘Creeper’, but Scar wouldn’t have wanted that name either. It had been more of a joke than anything, since it wasn’t like Scar had ever told them his real name or given a fake one.

José had walked into the clubhouse that first day and declared, “This is Scar.”

At first, Scar wasn’t sure he liked the name. It was a little too on-the-nose for his tastes, but he hadn’t cared enough to have the club change it. It was just a name, after all. It didn’tmatter.

Scar had never expected the moniker to become a name he was proud of.

Months ago, Angel’s and Cage’s daughter, Bree, and Cage’s son, Aaron, were kidnapped along with Ollie, the boy Steel and Jenna had been fostering and had since adopted. Ivy and Scar had tracked them down after the kids had essentially rescued themselves. Scar had been so fucking proud of Bree. She’d suffered so much in her young life and yet she hadn’t let that terror define her as Scar had done with his own trauma.

“Uncle Scar, that man hurt Ollie…” Bree’s voice rang through Scar’s head. She hadn’t been terrified in those woods. She was a paraplegic without her wheelchair, kidnapped, wounded, and yet so fucking strong. When she’d seen one of their kidnappers approaching them in the woods, she hadn’t flinched, hadn’t screamed. She’d placed her life and the lives of her brother and club cousin so confidently in Scar’s hands.

There hadn’t been a doubt in her mind that Scar would not only protect them but also avenge Ollie’s injury.

He never thought he’d be soproudto be ‘Uncle Scar’. Even before the number of club kids had exploded, the only person who called him ‘uncle’ had been Scotty. Sissy never had, though she had claimed the other officers and then members as her honorary uncles. Scar had always beenScarto Sissy.

For a long time, Scar didn’t know who he was. He wasn’t Julian or Solo anymore and he certainly wasn’t Creeper. Then suddenly he’d beenScar.

This cut had been more than a symbol of membership. It had given Scar anidentitywhen he’d been floating through life like a boat without an anchor.

It had given Scar a purpose.

Standing, Scar tucked the cut under his useless left shoulder. He wouldn’t put it on, not again. But he needed it with him.

A reminder of what he was fighting for.

After getting in the car he’d taken from his Baltimore storage facility, Scar made one last stop to ensure that all was well at the VDMC property and no more mercenaries were hanging around. He noticed the land next to Demo’s new house was now excavated and utility lines were being laid. It made him wonder who was taking the new house, but he also knew he couldn’t stick around to find out. With his shoulder the way it was, Scar used the front door in Lucky’s house for the first time since the home had been constructed.

He wandered up to the second floor, opened the orange door covered in the handprints of the household’s family members, and placed a lollipop under the pillow with a printed picture of a giant squirrel.

A final goodbye before he headed out.

It wouldn’t take long, a day tops, for Alpha to get Scar’s message. It would be enough to make Alpha back off, but not enough to stop him. Until his shoulder was healed, Scar needed more.

Tallulah Meacham, Alpha’s daughter, lived in Atlanta, Georgia. She was thirty-two years old and had a rare condition called bilateral anophthalmia, which meant she was born without eyeballs. They’d never developed when she was in utero. According to what he could find on her, being blind hadn’t held her back much in life. She was a successful chef and owned her own waterfront restaurant.

Scar wasn’t sure if he believed the media hype about ‘The Blind Chef of Atlanta’ but he was about to go find out.

* * *

[WiseWave620: You should see this picture Jenna took of Steel in Magic Kingdom! He’s got blue cotton candy stuck in his beard! Fucking hilarious!]

[WiseWave620: {.jpg inserted}]

* * *

It didn’t take longfor Scar to break into the secure apartment building that Tallulah lived in. While it was impressive, it wasn’t anything Scar hadn’t seen or gotten past before. He knew Alpha’s daughter was at work, so he had time to do a thorough search of her apartment. He learned a lot about who people really were by looking through their homes. People tended to put metaphorical masks on when they walked out of their front doors. Their home, and specifically their bedrooms, were generally where Scar found the person’s true self.

The first thing Scar noticed upon stepping into the apartment was how clean everything was. There was no clutter, not an extraneous piece. Everything was so pristinely placed that it could have been a magazine photographer’s wet dream.

Next he noticed small things that people tended to have in their homes that were missing from this apartment. Like photographs on the walls, lamps on an end table, a television in the living room, different color paint separating the different rooms, knickknacks, and display items. There were also structural differences. Curtains were missing from the windows and replaced with a film over the glass. Division strips were absent room to room and there was no carpeting at all.

A peek into her bathroom showed a walk-in shower as well as a bath rug that was built into the flooring. Just as in the kitchen, everything had its place. There wasn’t anythingextra.

Scar opened the mirrored bathroom cabinet and blinked. Eyeballs stared back at him. Dozens of them. The fact that they were in four-ounce wide mouth jars with a liquid solution and black lids was the only reason he wasn’t reaching for one of his knives.

Picking up one of the clear jars, Scar noticed the braille label on the back. He knew about braille but didn’t know how to read it. Based on the different color irises on each pair of prosthetic eyes, he assumed the raised dots described the color. There were the basic eye colors, plus unusual eye colors like purple, pink, silver, or lime green, as well as ones that looked like yellow slitted eyes like a cat, red demon eyes, and completely black ones.

What he also found interesting was they weren’t circular. The eyes were hollow spheres, not entirely round like a real eyeball. He’d never considered what prosthetic eyes looked like before.

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