1
PHANTOM
It is a cold, wintery night made for juicy tits in my face, slow drinking and cleaning out the filth of the world. I would love to be stuck in this freak snow storm with a hot chick, a fifth of whiskey and a mind full of bad ideas to try out.
But no one asked me what I wanted. Instead, I was given orders so here I am in the depths of the bayou in a run down railroad shack with three assholes entertaining death by yours truly. I’ve already put a bullet between the eyes of one unlucky SOB. Off to the side, his buddy hasn’t stopped wailing about his broken nose and he reeks of piss.
And then there is the third…
Well, damn. Let me just show you.
I kneel over Number Three and palm the back of his head, shoving it between his spread knees.
“Breathe in, asshole. You’re not gonna die. At least not yet. It really depends on how you handle the next five minutes. For your sake, I hope you have a better head on your shouldersthan your buddies.” I push to my full height and smack him on the back of the head when his face looks less green. “Give me the information I want, don’t draw a weapon on me like your dumbass friend did, and I promise you’ll have a fifty-fifty chance of crawling out of this hellhole to see the sunrise.”
When he just sits on the floor sucking air instead of moving his lips, I lift a shoulder to offer the little weasel some level of hope.
“Look, dude. It’s almost Thanksgiving and I’m trying to spread good energy and thankfulness and all that shit.” Not true, and he’ll find that out the hard way in a minute, but I need the INTEL in his head.
Our President, Reaper, and our crew scored our rival crew’s president when he snuck onto our property a couple nights back. It was a bad idea on his part. Since then, he’s given a few bits of information that will help us eliminate the Euphoria problem he is hell bent on killing people with.
“No? You don’t wanna talk?”
Instead of being smart, I get a bloody smile from the Vulture patch that tells me this boy will do anything for his vice president without a second thought to his wellbeing. That level of devotion and loyalty is admirable, but just shows me his morals are in the trash. No one follows the Vulture leadership and has a clean conscience.
“How generous of ya, asshole.” The young Vulture patch gurgles through what I imagine is a strong wave of nausea after taking a baseball bat to the gut a few minutes back. He inhales another gust of air through his nose and lets out a pained groan. “Let me be grateful for your kindness.” He leans forward and empties his stomach on the floor at my feet.
Fucking people always want to make it hard on themselves.
“Dat’s ’bout all I have to say. I don’t know how you Savages found us all da way out here, but you ain’t gettin’ what you‘re lookin’ for. Now or ever.”
His Louisiana drawl is thick and heavy. He’s a born and raised southerner through and through. That only tells me he’s known his VP and president for years. Probably grew up in the crew lifestyle. It won’t be easy to break the young patch who looks young enough to still be proving himself to his biker brothers. I almost feel sorry for him.
I tap the tip of his shitkicker with the end of my baseball bat. Damn it. This little shit is going to make killing him easy. I wasn’t lying all together. This close to the holidays I really do like to play it cool and keep my vibes positive. It’s hard to be festive when you’re cleaning blood off your knuckles.
But I’ll do what my Savage crew needs from me. When it comes down to it, I don’t worry too much about my conscience. I have no problem ending lives if it protects the innocent. I don’t feel a lick of remorse about it, either. And please don’t get all preachy about me being just as big of an asshole as this douche.
Wait. Let me back up and give you the full picture. When we found the three fuckers in this run down shake, they had a young girl tied to a chair for shits and giggles on a Friday night. Ripped clothes, bloody lips… you get the picture.
I peer over my shoulder to make sure the poor thing is still breathing. I don’t know how many pills they forced down her throat before taking advantage of her. One thing is for sure, I have no doubt in my mind the preacher’s daughter from a parish over did not ask to be brought out here and she sure as helldidn’t give them permission to touch her. I’m gonna hate taking her home to her daddy. He’s a good man and doesn’t deserve the evil committed against his blood.
I look back at my captive with no fucks to give about the blood oozing from the corner of his lip or if he ends up in a grave for the holidays. Since they didn’t ask to touch her, I don't see why I needed to ask before touching him or his friends.
When we found them, I took care of the three assholes while Venom took care of the girl. I don’t know why our in-house doctor came along for the ride instead of one of the new patches, but thank God Venom jumped in the truck with me when he did.
For the girl’s sake.
Venom is still working on keeping her alive long enough to get her to a hospital. But I gotta be honest. To me, it looks touch and go.
I grab the abandoned bag of Euphoria from the middle of the room and dangle it in front of the squirming Vulture patch on the floor in front of me.
I turn my head a fraction, never taking my eyes off the patch. “Hey Venom,” I call back to my brother. “In your doctorly opinion and all, ’bout how many pills do you think it takes to get his tongue wagging with all the secrets we wanna know?”
Venom grunts, and there’s a slight pause before he answers. “Might be interesting to find out. They are all about selling it to kids and telling them it’s safe as can be. So no harm, right?”
The fear in the patch’s eyes tells me they know their marketing tactics are all shit.
I let the predatory smile on my face speak for itself as I pop the baggie open and palm a few of the pills. His eyes widen and the petrified look makes my soul sing. I love delivering fate’s vengeance for her.
