Page 61 of Clash
“Someone jacked with the cars!” the driver shouted to the others.
Everyone left their vehicles at the same time, getting out to inspect the damage and look around to see who could’ve done so much destruction without them knowing. I managed to creep up behind the first guy without being seen, holding the gun to his head. “Move and I fucking shoot,” I whispered.
“Outlaws!” he shouted, alerting the rest of the guys.
“They never listen,” I mumbled, firing my gun once into the back of his skull. The guy fell to the ground, just as the rest of them open fired.
Fuck.
Ducking for cover, I hid behind the first vehicle, firing back at the guys closest to me.
Snyder came up behind me, grumbling under his breath as he returned fire. “You stupid asshole. You couldn’t wait for the rest of us? Just had to go all cowboy and run in here shooting?”
A bullet whizzed past my head, exploding into the tree behind me.
“Yeah, well, I gave the guy the chance to come peacefully, but then he had to get all loud and shit.”
Two members hopped into one of the cars, hoping to get away on three popped tires. They barely got a few feet before Ranger fired off a shot, nailing the driver in the head, sending them careening into one of the other vehicles. The passenger stumbled out, holding one of his arms, while weakly firing his sad excuse for a gun our way.
“I forgot how good that man is at shooting.”
Snyder nodded. “Pays to have him on our side.”
Within minutes, our club had overtaken them, and the six remaining men fell to the ground, holding up their hands in defeat.Cowards.
“We don’t want any trouble,” one of them exclaimed as I came up behind him, pressing my gun against his head. He was practically a baby, and I swear he pissed his pants because the stench of urine filled my nostrils as a wet spot pooled in his pants.
“We got a pisser,” I said excitedly, loving how afraid this kid actually was. “Who’s fucking running the club?” I asked him, pushing my gun against his head.
“Ratt,” he said, and I swear I smelt shit now too.
I kicked him in the side, the kid had literal tears in his eyes as I gripped him by his hair, holding my gun beneath his chin.
“Besides Ratt, who the fuck is your prez?”
The kid cried out, “I don’t know. He always wears a mask and we just call him Prez. I don’t know anything I swear!”
Snyder put a hand on my shoulder. “Let him go, Clash. Look at them all. They’re barely out of diapers. None of them are ready for this lifestyle. Ratt’s smart, he’s not going to divulge that type of information to prospects.” He motioned to the six kids on the ground.
Fuck. All of them have prospect on their cuts. Nobody of rank was here to instruct them. They’re all types of fucked up.
Sandman came hobbling up. “A—All b—boxes are n—not here.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s only ten,” Ranger finished for him. “We checked inside each one, there are some body parts missing, maybe some fingers and toes too.”
“Shit!” Snyder yelled. “Where’s the fucking rest of the body?” he asked the kid.
“Body?” The kid went green. “What do you mean body?”
Wasp walked over with one of the smaller boxes, dropping it in front of the six prospects. After opening it up, all of them recoiled in disgust.
Yeah, I’d do the same thing if it was the first time I saw a severed hand.
“We had no idea,” one of them shouted.
“We swear,” another said, vomiting onto the ground at his feet. “Please close that up, I can’t stomach it.”
