Page 62 of Clash
Wasp grinned. “What kind of shitbags is their club recruiting? Tell us who the fuck your members are, and maybe we’ll let you fuckers live.”
They all started talking at once.
“Our VP is Ratt,” one of them with a bruised right eye shouted.
“Weasel is like the muscle, I think. I forget what Ratt called him,” another one said.
“The masked guy is Prez, but he’s only ever been introduced as Prez to us,” a third one, a bit pudgy with ill-fitting pants that showed off his ass crack, added.
“What about on his cut? Does his cut say his name?” Snyder questioned.
“What’s a cut?” one of them asked.
At once, we all slapped our foreheads, completely dumbfounded by the lack of knowledge in this group of so-called bikers.
“What the actual fuck?” I asked, shooting Snyder a questionable look. “They put guns in these fuckers’ hands?”
“Willie and Henson were the ones leading us on this drop off mission,” the kid sitting in front of me said. “But you shot them both.”
He motioned to the dead guy on the ground and the driver of the car that tried to get away. “They were the Treasurer and Secretary of the club. We don’t know anything else, honest. They just gave us addresses and said to drop off the boxes and try to not get caught.”
“You were being set up,” Snyder growled. “Damn, the Crows are worse than I thought. They brought you guys in as fall guys. They never had any real plans of letting you join their club.”
It also explained why none of them could hit the broadside of a barn.
“Really?” One of them asked. “But I wanted to be in their club. They promised us lots of pussy,” a nerdy looking one with acne and glasses stated.
“You look like you’ve never touched pussy a day in your life, kid.” Smirking, I shot a few of my brothers a wink. “But you look like you’ve sucked a lot of cock.”
“Fuck that!” the kid shouted, paling at the thought. “I’m not gay.” He looked at the other five kids, all of them trying to hide their own smiles. “I’m not, assholes!”
“Sure, kid, keep telling yourself that,” Motley said, laughing his ass off as he pressed his gun into the back of one of the kids who was starting to get up. “Stay the fuck down.”
The kid held up his hands in surrender. “What the hell are we supposed to do if we leave?” He was scrawny, but you could tell he had a pretty bad attitude with the defiance in his eyes and the way he crossed his arms standoffishly after setting them back down. “For some of us, this club is all we got.”
“Find a better club,” Priest snarled, suddenly appearing with his bag of tricks. “Do I even need this?” he asked, shooting Snyder a look, already knowing the answer.
Snyder shook his head. “They’re singing like canaries. You know what, boys? I’m feeling a bit generous today. I’m gonna give you a meet the Lewd Outlaws and live to tell the tale, free pass of sorts. If you want to live, fucking get the hell out of here. If you know what’s good for you, stay the fuck away from the Dismembered Crows. Once they find out that you guys fucked this up, you’re all as good as dead. You know too damn much.”
“I’d go into hiding,” I added, smirking. “Get out of town and don’t look back.”
We all crossed our arms, looking like gods compared to these shit stains on their knees.
“If we catch any of you punks rocking this cut again,” Snyder added, pulling on the leather of the kid at my feet. “You’re dead to us as well.”
All six of them warily got to their feet, dropping their cuts on the ground. My heart broke at the sight. No cut should evertouch the ground like that. In my head, I was already giving each piece of leather their own eulogy.
“Now get the fuck out of here,” Snyder snapped. “Before I change my fucking goddamn mind.”
All of them scampered off, most of them wet from the legs down.
“I think they all pissed themselves,” Wasp said with a laugh. “Amateurs.”
“Clash, pick up their cuts and toss them in the back of one of the vehicles. Wasp, you and Skid pick up that body and throw it in the car with the other one. Pussycat, douse the cars with gasoline and light them the fuck up. The rest of you, lets check out the warehouse and see if we can get any information on who’s running this goddamn club.”
We all sprang into action, and after a few minutes of searching, we couldn’t find jack shit that would tell us who was in charge of the Dismembered Crows MC now that Hoax was out of the picture. It was a little maddening and discouraging. As for the missing fingers and toes, there was no telling where those body parts were, leaving us still in a vulnerable state.
“Let me know when you want me to light this shit up, Prez!” Pussycat shouted.
