Story 2: "Grapple Them Unto Thy Soul"

Laurel arrived at the Starling City D.A.'s office expecting to spend time going over legal files for the day's court session. The people's case against a Sons of Anarchy associate had gone cold – witnesses had either recanted their testimony or disappeared.

When she opened her office door, she found a wiry bearded man in skinny khakis sitting at her desk, eating a bag of almonds. His feet were resting atop her desk.

"Who are you?" Laurel demanded.

The stranger extended his hand. "Lincoln Potter, Assistant U.S. Attorney."

Laurel gave her hand warily. "Laurel Lance, Starling A.D.A."

"I spoke with your father Capt. Lance earlier," Lincoln said. "I heard about the cold case with Mickey Halloran, a known patch member of the Sons of Anarchy MC Starling chapter."

"Then you know what I know," Laurel said. "The witnesses won't talk or have vanished. Halloran will walk once he posts bail. I've got nothing to hold him on."

Lincoln picked up a newspaper with a lead story about the Arrow vigilante's latest adventures. "It seems your city has its own outlaw do-gooder: a vigilante who operates with the tacit approval of Starling PD."

"The Arrow has done a lot of good for this city," Laurel said defensively.

"Be that as it may," Lincoln continued, "vigilantism is allowed to exist not because the authorities wish it, but because the community wishes it to exist. I'm told the people in the Glades see the Sons of Anarchy as their protectors against the underworld's more ruthless elements. The murder at the docks has altered this equation."

Laurel was becoming annoyed with the AUSA's smugness. "Look, Mr. Potter, I have a deposition at court within the hour and a very busy day ahead of me. Is there something you want?"

"I'm glad you asked," Lincoln said and immediately handed her a file. "Consider this an early holiday present. Oh, your father said he has a few arrowheads from the Arrow in evidence lockup. If you'd like, I could bring them to the attention of the feds … maybe source the manufacturer and trace it to the buyer? Any masked vigilante, even one dressed like Errol Flynn, has something to hide. He's a public menace and he can't hide forever."

When Laurel opened the file, her eyes widened. "The Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act? You're building a RICO case … against SAMCRO?"

"SAMCRO, the Niners, the mob, the Bratva and every organized crime outfit connected to them from Washington State to the Mexican border," Lincoln said. "I mean to break the back of SAMCRO and, with your help, the Starling charter as well. My team is establishing a history of criminal activity with the Sons, both here and in Northern Cali. If my leads in Charming don't pan out, I will need the Halloran case as proof of the Sons' present crimes. I'll forward the necessary paperwork to your office … with a formal request for cooperation. Good day to you, Ms. Lance."

Laurel knew only a few details about the Sons' Starling MC charter. The members were mostly involved in protection rackets and small-time gun sales, but they were never involved in drugs. The killing at the docks was a sign that the rules may have changed. SAMCRO was somehow becoming a bigger player. The feud between the Russians and the Yakuza hinted at this.

Laurel began to weigh the possibility that she could finally rid the Glades of the criminal elements that preyed on it. With the RICO case, Oliver Queen's desire to save his city could continue. This fight would be by the books, with the full weight of the US attorney's office behind it

And with any luck, it wouldn't cost the lives of any more innocents.


Jax and the rest of SAMCRO left the SAMSTAR chapel – the clubhouse boardroom where members voted on important decisions. SAMSTAR had voted overwhelmingly to provide storage for the guns, security and transportation for the northern leg of the Irish – Galindo deal.

Most of the MC had already left the building when Jim, the president of SAMSTAR, clapped Jax on the shoulder. "We always back the mother charter. Still, I didn't expect that the vote in Charming was that close."

"I know," Jax said. "Some of my guys are uncomfortable with the Galindo cartel association, the drugs … but it still passed. It's a go."

"It means a lot to the guys that you came in person. The Teller name still holds weight 'round these parts," Jim said. He had served with John Teller in Vietnam and helped him to found the Starling City charter.

"So I hear," Jax said. "One of the locals told me. You might know him – Roy Harper?"

Jim nodded. "I do. He's a good kid. Had some run-ins with the law back in the day. Petty shit, purse snatching, joyrides, etc. He's on the straight and narrow I hear. Looking to be a mechanic someday." Jax told him about Roy's broken Harley and had assurances that they'd look around for vintage parts.

Tig rushed back into the clubhouse. "We got problems, Jax. Happy's been keeping tabs at the docks. Things are heating up. The Russians … the Japanese … we gotta get down there ASAP."

"The latest Irish gun order is already at the warehouse there," Jim said.

"Jesus," Jax said. "How many guys do we have to worry about?"

Tig paused. "They way Happy was saying it, I think all of Little Tokyo is there. The Russians are going to be chopped into sashimi."

Jax glanced at Jim. "SAMSTAR up for a late night ride?"

"Ask and ye shall receive, Jax." Jim grinned. In moments, dozens of full-patch SOA members rode out into the darkness.

When they arrived, Jax and the rest of his crew ducked behind some shipping containers. Around the corner, half a dozen brutish Russians in sweaters and an equal number of Yakuza enforcers in suits were engrossed in a heated argument.

Tig punched Happy in the arm. "Really? All of Little Tokyo? We could have handled these guys ourselves."

"My bad," Happy shrugged. "I saw one of the sushi gangbangers dial his phone. I thought he was calling for backup."

Jax looked at his personal army of full-patch MC members, armed with handguns and a few shotguns. "Well if it does go sideways, at least we have the numbers to win."

More shouting erupted at the docks and one of the Russians – a huge man in a crewneck sweater, rippling with muscles - pulled out a KG-9. He brandished the deadly weapon in the air.

"Are we good with the Russians in Starling?" Jax asked.

Jim nodded. "We were. Now that the Japs showed up, I'm not so sure. Igor runs the Soviets here, but I haven't heard from him in weeks."

Tig sighed. "Great. If they heard about how we handled some of his comrades down in Charming …"

"Well there's only one way to find out," Jax straddled his Harley and revved it up. "Tig, Opie and Chibs – with me. Bobby - you and Happy hang back with Jim and SAMSTAR. We don't want to spook our Russian friends. Come in shooting if things do go south."

"Got it, Jax," Bobby said.

The Russian with the KG-9 turned around and spotted Jax and his crew roaring down the laneway. The Yakuza enforcers became startled, drawing their own handguns from holsters or waistbands. They turned around and found Opie and the others with guns ready to shoot.

Jax leapt off his bike and jumped between the Russians and the Japanese. "Whoa, everyone just keep a cool head here. No one's shooting nobody!" The Russian with the KG-9 began to curse in Russian and earned a swat to the back of his head from another Russian. This one was balding, rail-thin in an immaculate Hugo Boss suit and looked like a villain from a Sean Connery-era James Bond movie. The two Russians both began to squabble in staccato bursts of Russian expletives.

Jax glanced at Chibs, puzzled at this development.

"Which one is Igor?" Jax demanded.

"I am," the rail-thin Russian said. "You are SAMSTAR?"

"SAMCRO, the MC's mother charter. I'm Jax Teller."

Igor barked a brief order and the rest of his Russian crew lowered their guns. The Japanese were still antsy but Chibs and Tig managed to convince them that no one was going to shoot.

The Russian boss holstered his own gun. "I'm Igor Zakharov. I run the port. For many years. The president of SAMSTAR knows this. Jim is a good man. Him I trust. Does he trust you?" Jax nodded.

Oblivious to the tense atmosphere, Igor pulled out a flask from his blazer. "Vodka from the motherland. Drink some."

Jax took the offered flask and drank. He coughed at the sharp burning in his throat, earning him a few snickers from the Russians and some of his own guys.

Igor smiled. "Takes some getting used to. Forgive my associate, Timer. People call him 'Tank' but I should call him 'Idiot'" Just to underline the point, he marched to Tank's face and shouted at him: "Idiot!"

Opie nudged Tig in the arm. "Russians that we're cool with? I can live with that."

Tig shivered awkwardly. "I need to take a piss. Anyone else feel that way?"

Igor nodded towards the Yakuza gangster with spiky hair and a loud purple Miami Vice-type suit. "Hideki is the shateigashira: a lieutenant for the Yamamoto clan here. He owns all the high-end massage parlours from here to Portland. The oyabun – the family boss – is in Kyoto for business. I called this meeting to iron out our recent differences, but things were … lost in translation, shall we say."

Jax turned towards Hideki. "You don't know me, I get that. But you know SAMSTAR. I'm the Vice President of the Sons' mother charter in Charming. We have no beef with you guys."

"Maybe," Hideki said in accented English. "But we have a beef with the Russians. Viktor Putlova promised us control of the port and we now find his promise means nothing. My people think your killing Putlova also killed his promise."

"Putlova mentioned nothing of this to me!" Igor protested. The Russians' shocked expressions confirmed this.

The name Putlova – the Russian gangster who Jax and SAMCRO gunned down in cold blood after Opie and Lyla's wedding - continued to cause complications for the MC.

"Look," Jax said, turning to Igor. "You, me and Hideki need to sort out boundaries here. Starling PD is turning the screws on SAMSTAR with the Halloran case, looking for any weakness to exploit. Putlova's been playing you. And the Yakuza."

Chibs turned to Hideki, speaking quietly. "You're new to this turf, mate. Both SAMSTAR and Mr. Zakharov have operated in Starling City for years. So, you must understand that there's gotta be some give and take from your end. When does your boss come back from Japan?"

"The oyabun returns to Starling in two days," Hideki said. "He will want guaranteed access to port, if outright control is not possible."

Jax looked at the warehouse. The security of the Irish guns was paramount, whatever happened. "We should work out the details soon. Talk to your people. We'll have to take it to the table for a vote, but I think we can –"

Without warning, a razor-tipped arrow impaled the arm of Tank. One of the Yakuza kyodai squealed as an arrow shot through his calf. Half a dozen flash-bombs peppered the group, enveloping them with smoke.

Tig coughed. "The hooded outlaw?" He thought he could hear Happy or Bobby in the distance, yelling over the confusion and smoke.

Jax, the Russians and the Japanese looked up towards the warehouse roof. They could see only one man in a hood.

"Ya gotta be kidding me!" Jax exclaimed. "I take it you're not down with 'The Hood'?" He smirked at Igor.

Everyone scrambled for cover behind shipping containers, iron barrels and abandoned cars as more arrows and flash-bombs landed nearby.

"Igor Zakharov," the hooded vigilante intoned. "You have failed this city!"

"I want him dead!" Igor exclaimed. He grabbed the KG-9 that Tank dropped and opened fire on the warehouse roof.

Both the Russians and Yakuza pulled out their guns and automatics, raining bullets upon the rooftop. A big explosion erupted, catching everyone by surprise. It consumed the alleyway to their rear with a tremendous fireball. Happy and SAMSTAR were now cut off from Jax's crew. There would be no reinforcements.

"Mother of God, we're sitting ducks here!" Chibs exclaimed. "Stuck between the Soviets, the Japs … and this Arrow freak!"

"I guess we're in this fight now, eh, Jax?" Tig said, flicking the safety off his gun. "With no backup. Cops are bound to hear this shit-storm. And wouldn't you know it ... I still need to take a piss. Badly."

"Keep your head and bladder in the game, Trager," Jax barked. "Igor and the Japanese crews are on our side. For now."

"And what about 'The Arrow'?" Opie said.

Jax glowered at the shadowed figure on the warehouse. Too much was at stake, not just for SAMCRO but for his plans to get out of the life. This was the arrangement he had with Clay: his support at the table in exchange for a clean exit from the MC.

He was going to raise his young family with Tara, away from the violence. Away from Charming. This was all that mattered to him. And he wasn't about to let some punk vigilante tear apart his plans and jeopardize Abel and Thomas' future.

"I want this Robin Hood prick's head impaled on the Reaper pole." Jax fired his Glock at the warehouse roof. With all the firepower directed at the roof, there was no way anyone could survive the hellfire.

The Arrow was just one man. And men still bleed.

To be continued …

[Author's note: This may become an episodic story but for the moment, it may be just a series of short stories blending the world of SAMCRO and the Arrow universe.]