A/N: Very loosely based off the Australian miniseries – Bikie Wars: Brothers in Arms, which in turn is based off true events. If you want to have a look at Aussie culture and boganism firsthand, check it out :)

Seven.

Kicking his Harley Rocker up a gear, Axel gunned it down the lone stretch of highway, thick bush flanking the dusty road on either side. It was hotter than usual today, the Australian sun burning directly overhead and heating the bitumen underneath his wheels to blistering new temperatures.

He hadn't bothered to grab his helmet, and now he found himself mildly regretting it; the sun's heat being so relentless, he felt like it was burning right through his wild, red spikes and straight into his half-cooked brain. A strong wind pulled at his sweat soaked shirt, and flapped his patched, leather vest around his shoulders. The aviators hiding his emerald eyes slid down his nose just enough to annoy him as he kept his speed constant, the engine of his bike thrumming and roaring beneath him.

Axel was on his way to the clubhouse, but he would much rather be heading anywhere else at present. He knew what was waiting for him there, and it was something he just wasn't ready to face. Ever.

It was no small understatement to say that Axel was a powerful man. He was the leader of one of the biggest Comanchero chapters this side of the border, and absolutely no one would be fool enough to mess with him or his brothers.

Except for one.

Roxas Halliday had been a thorn in Axel's side for some time now. They had been mates once, the best there was, but that had all changed the day Roxas had questioned Axel's leadership.

They had been like brothers – they ate and drank together, fought and lived side by side, and shared the same ideals, but that had all meant nothing in the wake of Roxas' blatant disrespect. Axel hadn't wanted to turf him out, but in the eyes of his men this would only be seen as weakness, and that was the one thing Axel could never afford being.

When he'd been ordered to get out and hand over his patch, Roxas' eyes had burned with his anger and shame. Embracing his newfound loathing of Axel and all that he stood for, Roxas had left and defiantly started his own chapter, purely to rival his old club. Thus, the Bandidos Outlaw Motorcycle Club was now a force to be reckoned with; its young, ruthless leader not one to be taken lightly.

That was something Axel had always taken for granted with Roxas. He hadn't had to worry when Roxas had been on his side, had been his right hand man…but now that his ex-best friend was the rival leader of his chapter's biggest threat, things had only gone from bad to worse.

A lot of good men had been killed in the ongoing feud. The Comancheros and the Bandidos had been at war for two years now, with still no end in sight. Axel had tried to stop the madness, had tried to persuade his brothers to back down, but they never would. It was their honour and code on the line. If a Bandido ever so much as walked past them on the opposite side of the street they wouldn't dare hesitate to retaliate. If they backed down or turned a blind eye – if they didn't fight to protect what they stood for, then what the hell did they live for?

In all honesty, Axel was tired of it. Years ago it had all been good fun. Drinking and fighting over a game of pool, selling guns and drugs right under the copper's noses, and all the comfort and luxury an outlaw club could offer. Now his mates – his brothers in arms were dropping like flies, and there was blood staining all of their hands.

Roxas never wanted to talk, couldn't even be in the same room with him without pulling a knife, and this had been a major part of Axel's problem. He needed the fighting to end, some sort of truce needed to be set in stone. They couldn't go on like this, but the ever vengeful Roxas would never see reason without force…and that is exactly what Axel had resorted to.

He'd planned a stakeout, and it had miraculously paid off. Roxas had been ambushed outside of his home. Axel's men had thrown a hessian sack over his head and forcefully taken him to the Comanchero clubhouse. Now Axel would finally end this, once and for all.

-0-

Roxas spat at Axel's feet and glared daggers up at him from his position on the floor.

"You worthless piece of shit. Can't fight me like a man, you gotta send out your little fucken' tag team to come jump me and threaten my family." He sneered. "You fucking cunt."

They stared at each other wordlessly as Saix, Axel's right hand man, stalked across the room, grabbed Roxas by the front of his shirt and decked him clean across the face.

"You watch your fucking mouth, runt. Remember who you're talking to."

He threw him back down on the ground, Roxas coughing once and raggedly wiping at his mouth. Blood and spittle spattered over the wooden floorboards.

Axel sighed, rubbed at his forehead wearily. "I just want a truce between us, Rox. I'm tired of sending my brothers out to die by the hands of your men, just because you've got a personal vendetta."

Roxas pulled himself up into a sitting position. His eyes were hard when he looked back up at Axel.

"You should've thought about that the day you hung me out to dry." A malicious smirk twisted his features. "I will never forgive you."

The words stung and Axel knew Roxas would know that. Being a president of a club himself, Roxas would understand perfectly the kind of pressure Axel was under. He was being foolishly stubborn, and it was going to cost him his life…

"If he refuses to cooperate we could use him for negotiation. His men will want him back," Zexion said from over at the bar, his head still buried in the book he was reading. He didn't even look up as the rest of the members' present looked in his direction, the entirety of the proceedings playing out in front of him obviously found wanting.

"We could make them hand over their territory."

"Just kill him. He has no further purpose," Marluxia spoke up from Axel's left, the pink haired man leaning up against the club's pool table, his arms folded across his chest.

"Aw man, do we have to?" Demyx burst out, his face clearly showing his discomfort at the idea. "He used to be one of us – I don't wanna see that."

Axel went to speak but Xigbar cut him off.

"But he ain't one of us," the older man bit out, staring down in disgust at the renegade sprawled at Axel's feet. "Think of Xaldin and Luxord for chrissakes. He's got our brother's blood on his hands. He's a problem and he has been for too long. We can't just let him go now."

Apparently agreeing with Xigbar's conclusion, the only female member of their club, Larxene, stood from her place by the door and moved over towards her president. She pulled her Beretta out from the inside of her jacket and without further ceremony, handed it to Axel.

A cruel smirk curling her lips, Larxene stayed standing by Axel's side and coldly scrutinized Roxas, who was still looking defiant as all hell, from his place on the floor.

"Cut the head off the snake, and the body will be left in its death throes."

The whole room fell silent, everyone's eyes now pinned to their leader.

Axel hesitated, feeling the weight of the handgun heavy in his hand. "This…is gonna create one helluva shit-storm."

Xigbar snorted. "We'll deal with it. They're a bunch of fucken' soft cocks without him and Hayner around anyway. Put him down, Ax."

Axel knew Hayner had been taken out a week before. It was a major part of the reason why Roxas had been so easy to nab. His palms felt sweaty now, but even so, he flicked the safety off the Beretta and pointed it at Roxas' face – right between his eyes.

Why…had it come to this…?

There was something else no one had ever known about him and Roxas. Something Axel had kept hidden all this time.

Roxas hadn't just been his best mate…he'd been his –

"Shoot me, Axel. It should be easy for you – you've already stabbed me in the back." Roxas' deep blue eyes were staring up at him, and Axel could see everything hidden in their depths. All the anger and hurt – the sadness…and fear.

He couldn't do it. He lowered his hand.

"Fuck's sake, this is ridiculous."

Her patience all but non-existent, Larxene wreathed the Beretta out of Axel's slackened grip. She didn't even hesitate, cocking the gun at Roxas' head and firing point blank.

Axel didn't even flinch as Roxas' blood splattered across his face. His body was thrown backwards, but Axel could still see Roxas' brilliant, blue eyes staring up at the ceiling – blank and unseeing.

In that moment, Axel's entire world came crashing down around him.

Inside, he felt as dead as Roxas.