All characters, etc from Sons of Anarchy belong to Kurt Sutter.

Perfect

"You up for it Hap'?"

"I'll do this thing. It'll be perfect."

That had been the start of his personal involvement in this particular little episode. Now he was pushing the churro cart slowly across the grass of the park, the front left wheel squeaking quietly. The bright sunshine had encouraged a few people to enjoy the fresh air, but being a weekday and a morning, most people were at school or work so the Spanish guitar music floated through the trees uninterrupted.

He stopped the cart in the arranged location and began to set up. He had a little time before the action was due to go down. He scanned the area, glad that there weren't many people about. It wasn't just that he didn't want any witnesses screaming or calling 911, but he didn't want anyone actually trying to buy something from him. He'd planned every aspect of this meticulously, but there were certain requirements that he'd had to factor in whether he liked it or not. It had to be fast, and it had to be public. The mark could not be allowed to get suspicious or else he might try to run, and his brothers could not be allowed to step in and interfere, to try to protect one of their own.

As he was preparing he noticed the bedraggled woman wheeling her trolley full of belongings stuffed sloppily into bin sacks, that nasty grey blanket rolled up under her arm. He watched her walk along the tree line, ignoring any other civilians for a moment. Her long brown hair was knotted and dirty, hell all of her was in need of a damn good wash. She wasn't that old underneath the dirt, could possibly be pretty good-looking if someone took the time to clean her up. She was definitely better looking than the girls at the Jellybean. He wondered what her story was. There was something about her, a certain look in her eyes, a curve to her smirking lips. Whenever he'd visited Charming he'd spotted her out of the corner of his eye. She always seemed to be around. He hoped the Feds never got a hold of her and started asking questions, she'd probably seen enough to get them all sent down for a serious amount of time.

His preparations complete he scanned the area, watching the unknowing players in this game as they went about their everyday business. A kid throwing a Frisbee for a dog caught his attention, the German Shepherd reminded him of Missy. Thinking about that dog, the source of so much trouble between Tig and Koz, more trouble than any piece of ass, brought a grin to his face. The thought of family reminded him he needed to call his ma soon. If she didn't hear from him every so often she worried and it'd been a while since he'd last ridden down or spoken to her. He smiled grimly as the kid's father caught sight of the leather cuts approaching and grabbed his son's hand and the dog's collar, leading them both away with furtive looks, a mixture of fear and disgust.

His musings on family took another turn as the father and son wandered casually over to a bench near the guitarists and their audience of a young couple. He felt himself fill with the ice cold focus that he needed, savoured. In the surge of the adrenalin rush the world narrowed down into high definition. The colours, sounds and smells became so complete, so sharp every single time he did this. You couldn't buy this high. The two men began strolling towards him and he breathed deeply, waiting, ready.

He bent over the trash can behind him, concealing his true purpose as the father hugged his son right in front of him. It was one last show of affection for the sacrificial lamb. He could hear the unspoken farewell as the father told his son that he loved him.

In one swift, supple, vicious movement he straightened, turned and lunged, plunging the bone handled ice pick into the base of the young man's skull, killing him instantly. The father caught his son and clutched him tightly, allowing his knees to fold under the heavy weight of the body as he gently laid him down on the grass, tenderly kissing the back of his head, before standing and pulling the payment out of his cut. As he took the offered envelope there was no emotion in his face, he kept his expression completely blank as he nodded in understanding that his task was now complete and that this transaction was resolved.

The empty façade concealed the emotions that swirled as the endorphins pulsed through his body. Pride in a job well done, the thrill of the kill, the momentary unleashing of the primal beast within. He rode the rush that was better than any sex. This was something he alone could do for his brothers, something he excelled at, his purpose. Even as he nodded he was already anticipating the burn of the needle that would conclude and finalise this act.

It wasn't for him to comprehend what had been done here today, the sacrifice of a son, the forfeit of one's own blood for the good of a family; although it was a level of commitment he could understand. For a moment though he was relieved he didn't have children of his own, would never be in a position to have to make such a decision. What had taken place today had been necessary, the giving of one life for the good of many, but he was glad it hadn't been him making that choice. It was simply his role to execute the instruction.

The message had been sent, shouted loud and clear. They wouldn't be using Bachman this time he thought as he gripped the handles of the cart and wheeled it away slowly; the front left wheel squeaking in the silence of the sunny morning.

-o0o-

A/N

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