Part 4. Truth and Perception
I see the world, feel the chill
Which way to go, window sill
I see the world's on a rocking horse of time
I see the birds in the rain
Oh, dear dad, can you see me now
I am myself, like you somehow
I'll ride the wave where it takes me
I'll hold the pain... Release me...
From RELEASE. (Pearl Jam)
Chris took a sip of his whiskey and ignored the woman standing next to him. He and Buck had ordered drinks for appearances sakes, although had come to soon realise that they seemed to be about the only ones drinking. The woman looked well dressed and professional, yet her vacant gaze spoke of a mind not presently there. She smiled at him, an all-encompassing smile that told him she thought he was fine – that the universe in its entirety was just fine in fact… as long as her pill was still breaking down in her stomach. He looked at Buck who just shook his head slightly. The woman had already hugged him for a full minute before a friend had collected her after she'd drifted over from the packed dance floor.
In the half hour they had sat at the bar, they had seen more money change hands around the rooms than behind the bars – and they hadn't reached the VIP room yet. They avoided looking at Nathan as he oversaw the huge amount of staff attending the massive, long bar that curved around half the floor. Neither envied him this particular job, he was run off his feet.
"I gotta ask it," Buck spoke right into Chris's ear, it was the only way to be heard over the repetitive thump of the music permeating through every corner of the room. "How the hell can they be bothered with this? You can't even get a woman's name over this noise and that ain't even dancing," he jerked a derisive thumb at a stocky, well-built youth dancing, in Buck's opinion, as though he were having some kind of seizure. He was completely ignoring the woman dancing opposite him, too caught up in his own private beat. He knew many of them would keep on dancing until dawn and he just didn't get the attraction. Many danced alone, in their own world and that defeated the entire purpose of the action to him. There were a few stuck like glue to
partners of either sex, but they were mostly just hugging each other. Occasionally someone would stop to massage a partners shoulders when the music lulled.
Chris only shrugged as he turned to the floor again, catching sight of a woman biting a pill in half and giving the remainder to a friend, neither apparently concerned with being caught in the act as they chased the drug down with a drink of water. It wasn't the dancing until dawn that he didn't get, the drugs let them do that, it was the desire to put yourself through an emotional washing machine every day. He'd known people that couldn't be approached until mid week when they were finally getting over the comedown of the previous weekend. He didn't see the attraction in that, but he was the first to admit, he wasn't a young kid any more, caught in a social scene… and he was smart enough to know that those out there looking for something were not going to find it like that. He hadn't found any answers in the bottom of a bottle and he certainly hadn't found them any other way.
As he scanned the floor, he saw two men come up the stairs and enter the room. Their clothes marked them as Jokers immediately and the crowd parted almost effortlessly as they crossed the room. One of the men looked like he'd been in a week-long brawl, with an obvious limp marking his walk. The other, much larger man, looked like he was ready to start a brawl. He felt Buck tense slightly beside him and they both continued to watch the men discreetly.
Vin eyed the room with a cool eye. He picked out the black bartender and then caught the two cops at the bar eyeing them over, but Keg didn't seem to notice. The ungraceful man had found a beat drumming into his stomach and was doing a weird kind of half dance as they moved to the bar.
A few steps beyond the dance floor, a woman turned and moved in front of them and Vin took in her massively dilated pupils and pale skin. She oozed sensuality as she began to dance before him, at first just gently swaying, before pressing herself forward to feel the hard line of him against her, her hand tangling itself in his hair as she moaned in delight with at texture of it in her fingers. Before he knew what was happening her mouth was on his and he was engaged in a hungry, albeit one-sided kiss, that effectively stopped him in his tracks.
He heard Keg chuckling beside him as he pulled back from her. Looking over the girl's shoulder he met the curious eye of one of the cops he'd seen as he'd walked in. Slowly disengaging himself from the woman, he had the bizarre, yet strong feeling that he was looking at an old friend; like his life was about to take a serious turn.
He gently stepped back from the woman, smiling at her pretty face as he turned her around to Keg, letting him deal with her. He couldn't help but grin as the woman endured the untimely shuffling of clumsy boots for all of five seconds before drifting back into the crowd with a last, longing look back at him.
Keg looked at him as if to say, 'I don't get it,' and Vin gave him a half grin as he moved towards the bar.
"Drinks first, then we take care of business," Keg suggested and Vin nodded, moving in and leaning on the counter next to the blonde man, listening to the conversations around him casually as Keg indicated he was going to speak to some men he knew in the corner and wandered off.
"Hey cowboy, move aside if you're not getting a drink!"
Chris did not look at the tall man who had walked up beside him and spoken loudly to get his attention, but Vin did. He looked to be in his early twenties, his body screaming his agitation and pent up energy. He looked wired and Vin guessed it was likely speed giving him his edge.
"He just call me a cowboy?" came a voice so quietly menacing Vin was taken by surprise. Even though the words seemed casual and the man's body language remained completely relaxed, there was the promise of absolute violence in his tone.
"Think he did," Buck answered, not looking as he sipped his drink.
The tone of the second cop's voice and the quirk of his lip told Vin this wasn't the first time these two had played this scene out.
Chris finally looked up at the youth. "You just call me a cowboy, son?"
Buck chuckled, looking up now and winking at the youth. "He hates that."
The young man blinked, probably for the first time in hours. Through his sharpened focus he saw two green eyes, promising him death. He stepped back, into his friends, then simply turned and left and still Larabee did not move.
Buck chuckled softly again as Vin leant in to order a drink and a bartender approached him quickly, ignoring all the other customers waiting in order to serve him first. Protests were cut off as people saw it was a biker ordering the drink. It was common knowledge that they ran the place, not to mention the entire nightlife in the city.
"Get ya a drink, 'Cowboy'?" he asked the cop beside him quietly, yet deliberately, before looking at him with mischief in his eyes. "Or don't ya drink on duty?"
Buck had not heard the Texan's quiet question but Chris was shocked and trying not to show it. He turned his head and looked sideways at the man that he realised was a lot younger than he had at first thought. Now that he was closer, he could see the bruises that marred his skin in detail. It was strange, but he found himself smile at his audacity, at the look of complete innocence on his unshaven face. The man knew he was a cop, had known the second he had entered the room, he realised. There was something in his startlingly clear blue eyes that spoke of intelligence, but there was something else too; his eyes spoke of integrity, something he had not expected to see in the eyes of a biker. He lifted the still full glass in his hands and the long haired man smiled back.
"Ah… well, jist one whiskey then, thanks…" Vin read the girls name badge behind the bar, "Glitter," he gave her a lazy grin and she found herself blushing hard as she turned away, flustered. His thick Texan accent had reached her like warm honey in its soft request amongst a sea of shouting demands.
This caught Buck's full attention and he finally eyed the lightweight that had come up to stand next to them. Scruffy biker… what the hell did women see in men like that?
Keg came back and tapped Vin on the back, waiting as he turned with his drink. "I'm ready, just gotta take a piss." He eyed Buck and Chris before moving off, not waiting for a reply.
Vin sipped his drink casually. "Lotta business tonight," he said to Chris. He glanced at him and Chris saw his eyes were intense with their need to communicate a message. "'Lot goin' on," he continued, his voice still completely conversational.
Chris's eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced again at the biker's profile, seeing the way he leant his right elbow on the bar, right leg resting on the chrome rail at their feet, keeping weight off his injured leg. He gave only a short nod.
"That there is."
A full minute went by as they drank in silence, Vin studying the men flanking him in the reflection of the mirror before he finally saw Keg shifting his hefty weight back through the crowded room. He resumed his one-sided conversation.
"Seems ta me some people don't know where they're not wanted."
Chris glanced at him again and noticed the direction that his gaze had taken with Buck, too, looking across the bar. He was looking at Nathan...
"What people are those, exactly?" Buck asked him, having an idea and getting angry about it. He knew the Jokers were racist bastards.
Vin shrugged, keeping his tone light and conversational, still directing his words toward the blonde man. Some instinct was telling him that he could trust him to do what was needed. "Black man mixin' 'mongst decent white folk like this can get some people mighty riled. Only a matter'a time `fore someone takes exception to it." With that he looked again at Chris and pushed off the bar. "Nice meetin' ya fella's, got some business downstairs ta take care of."
Keg walked up as Buck stepped forward to voice a passionate protest, barely able to get his words out so angry was he at the racist slur directed at Nathan.
"Now wait a second there, Tex –"
"Buck."
Buck looked at Chris, his anger festering at the biker's comments and wanting to act, but there was a warning in his old friend's face that he had long learned to heed.
"Problem, fella's?" Keg asked, eyeing the two men and looking at Vin, ready to fight if he needed to.
Vin grinned. "Nope, these boys didn't like m'joke is all."
Buck watched the men walk off, only the larger one looking back and turned to Chris, waiting for an explanation.
"He was warning us. They're here for Nathan." Chris watched the lean biker walk off, noticing for the first time that he was also guarding his side as he moved through the crowded floor. The man was sporting more than one injury despite his best attempts to cover them.
"Nathan..." Buck looked at Vin's retreating back. "Why would he tell you?"
Chris put his still full glass on the bar as he continued to watch the two bikers walk away. "He clocked us the second he walked in." There was a light smile on his lips at that knowledge.
Buck was surprised by that, but not entirely bothered. He and Chris weren't going undercover on this one, but it was still unnerving someone had pegged them so quickly. He looked at Chris, about to speak when Chris cut him off.
"No way I look like a cop, must be your moustache," he said, beating Buck to it as he studied the red symbols on the back of the bikers' jackets. The skull and crossbones sat above the name of the club, red eyes peering out and watching their backs as they moved. It was an intimidating image.
To their surprise they saw the leather-clad men approach Ezra who had just come up the stairs. They could not hear what they were saying but there were short looks thrown Nathan's way. Both ATF agents were thinking the same thing, just why had the Texan warned them, knowing that they would try and stop what was about to happen.
"He's setting us up," Buck concluded aloud.
Chris had considered the same thing, but there was something telling him that wasn't the case. It was in the man's eyes as he'd looked at him, even before he had approached the bar. From the first second he'd spotted him disentangling himself from the woman on the dance floor, he'd had a strange feeling of familiarity. Why that was he didn't know, but he couldn't ignore it.
..
Vin eyed the smooth talking club manager in front of him, trying to read his expression. He relied on his instincts about people, but this man was a mystery. He seemed to fit his role easily, as if he were born to mediate problems and turn them to his own gain. He was definitely a shrewd man, you didn't get to manage a place like this without being talented, but there was also something a little false about him, he thought. He felt the hatred dripping from him, sliding across the space between them like a tangible thing, even while his face betrayed nothing.
"Gentlemen, I can assure you, this matter will be dealt with immediately," they were informed, the man's unhurried voice thick with a southern drawl.
Keg cut him off and Vin didn't need to look at the large man to know how serious his face would be. When he wanted to be, he was damn intimidating and his size was only a part of it. "Damn right it will. We're just being courteous in letting you know."
Ezra sighed inwardly, knowing Chris and Buck were only across the room, but not liking the situation at all. He hadn't had to deal with the gang alone before, Mitri usually took care of that and he had not been prepared for them to target Nathan. He should have known they would take exception to his working there, they all should have considered that, but it was he who had gotten him in, therefore he had to do everything he could to settle the situation - without bloodshed if possible. Yet there was a part of him that wanted to indulge his urge to act violently. To be so close to the men that he hated above all others... it was taking pure restraint to hold himself back.
"I understand you have your own effective methods of –"
Keg leant in close, right into the smaller man's personal space. "Maybe you didn't hear me. We'll be taking care of this little problem for you." He stepped back, nodding to Vin to move off. "Say hi to your boss for me."
Vin hesitated only a second but it was enough time for Ezra to meet his eye and he paused, trying to read what he saw there. It had been a myriad of things all projected in a flash, but Ezra was too caught up in his own rush of adrenaline to decipher any of them.
Vin walked with Keg over to the bar door, still trying to understand why he felt compelled to reassure the southerner. Emotions were not something he could afford to give reign to in a situation like this. He knew nothing about the club manager, but he was impressed that he had tried to intervene on behalf of his staff. Something told him he, too, could be trusted, despite all outward appearances.
A quick glance in the mirror assured him of that, telling him that his instincts were correct. The manager was looking back at the cops still seated across the room. That was it then, he thought and was a little relieved his trust had not been misguided. He was a cop too, or an informant at least. He was impressed at their operation, impressed that the local authorities were targeting these criminals. He almost laughed at that. That meant him, didn't it? The longer he lived the life, the more the line blurred. Lately he had begun to wonder if things would ever be clear again.
They approached the bar manager and Keg opened the lid of the bar to enter.
"Can I help you?" Nathan asked, eyeing the two rough men entering his space.
"The three of us need to take a little walk."
Despite himself Nathan's eyes narrowed as he looked from one biker to the other, his anger surfacing. He tried not to look for his team around the room, knowing they were there. He hadn't been with them all that long, but they were there, he trusted them to be watching his back.
"And why would that be?" he asked, stalling.
Keg reached over the bar and grabbed the front of Nathan's shirt. "Let's go."
As he was pulled out of the bar forcibly, Nathan's eyes flicked to Vin and again the Texan felt his stomach clench. He'd just seen himself through the other man's eyes. He knew what he was thinking, what they were all thinking: that he was a racist thug - a violent criminal who terrorised people. He knew that the men in the gang saw people's reactions as respect, but he knew it for what it was. Those smart enough to know better were disgusted by them. They gave them a wide berth out of fear, not respect. They were two entirely different things.
Still, here he stood, playing the part to perfection, seeing the fear and the loathing aimed at him. How far was he at that second from the man he sought most not to become? He felt ashamed in that moment, felt heat course through him and a sickness fall into the pit of his stomach. He looked at his hand that was gripping the bartenders arm and saw another hand, one that had seemed so big as a child. Was it any bigger than his own now? He did not realise Keg had spoken to him until he heard a second shout.
"Hey! What the fuck's wrong with you?!"
He realised he'd stopped moving and that both Keg and the bartender were looking at him. He avoided the probing gaze of the dark man, not wanting to decipher what he really saw there in his eyes. They led their victim across the room, ignoring his attempts to pull free and moved to the stairs, dragging him down as he protested all the way.
"Look, I'm sure we can sort this out, but not if I don't know –"
Suddenly Nathan was slammed against the wall of the stairs, hard. Keg pushed his barrelling stomach right into him and held him in place as he growled into his face. "You don't belong here, that's why. Now shut the fuck up before I forget myself and start the beating now."
Again Nathan glanced at Vin who said nothing, just looked back at him with a neutral expression. They continued down the stairs and down the next flight, Vin lagging behind as his knee protested the descent, before heading for the heavy black door that they had first walked through. They passed security guards on the way down, but no one stopped them. Some just smiled in appreciation of a good ass kicking that was about to take place until finally they met up with one of the younger men they'd passed coming in.
"Alright!" The kid said, smiling at them as they dragged the bartender through.
"Keep watch," Keg told him and dragged Nathan out with him.
Vin followed, his heart beginning to pick up its pace. He'd given those cops enough warning, hadn't he?
..
As Nathan was forced from the room, Chris and Buck looked briefly toward Ezra who moved off, silently leading the way. After a moment they followed as discreetly as possible, for there were cameras everywhere, but they knew they had to hurry. As they reached the bottom level they saw Ezra entering a black door that was hard to spot against the dark wall, but as they made to follow they were stopped.
"Sorry guys, I've been asked to show you out of the building."
Chris eyed the man standing in front of him, another one beside him backing him up. They weren't very old, but they were big, both of them.
"And what fool told you to do that?" he asked softly and saw the kid automatically flick his glance to the door Ezra had gone through, unintentionally telling him that it was Ezra that had given the order.
"Please come with us," the other man said.
"Alright," he agreed, trusting the southerner as he and Buck were led outside. Ezra must have seen this as a way to get them outside quickly, knowing that they could not follow him out the same door.
"Thank you gentlemen," the other man told them as they were left on the steps in the rain beside a long line of people waiting to get in to the venue. Some of them were saturated and for a moment Chris stared at the pale faces peering back at him. He saw a young woman shivering, her short blonde hair plastered to her face as she held her naked arms around herself and met his eyes for a moment. Her makeup had run and gave her eyes a sunken, ghoulish appearance. It was madness, the whole place. It was like a descent into another world.
"Now what?" Buck asked.
"Now we find where they went. Ezra must have known they were taking him outside. Come on."
Chris moved toward the side of the building, just as the rumble of motorbikes could be heard above the rain and the muffled noise of the music from behind them. Four sets of single headlights did a slow pass of the line, four shadowed men perusing the queue, before the lead bike took off and the others followed him around the back of the building. Chris did not bother to look at Buck as they both hurried their pace. The situation had just gotten a lot worse.
Ezra walked out the back door in time to see the larger biker throw Nathan against the concrete wall, the rain having just softened to a thick mist. The smaller, injured man was still not taking part, just watching, standing by. He also saw one of his security men standing guard nearby and knew he could not make him go back inside.
"Gentlemen please. I must protest. This man has done nothing. I employed him, this is my problem."
Keg looked at Ezra with a leering grin. "Get back inside and wait your turn, your times coming soon enough."
Ezra stepped forward again and Keg looked at Vin who moved to cut the Southerner off.
"Go back inside," Vin told him, his tone low. He was telling him with more than his voice to go back inside but just as he spoke there was a roar of engines and they all looked over to see four more bikes coming up out of the undercover car park. They each stopped and words were exchanged that could not be heard over the distance before two of the bikes turned and went back down the ramp, leaving the other two to continue on and pull to a stop beside them in the drizzling rain.
Ezra could have sworn the man blocking him tensed at the sight of the new arrivals.
"Heard there was some fun goin' on here tonight. Need help there boys?"
Keg looked at the newcomers, Decker and Flea, two old friends and smiled. "No, but you're just in time if you want to play."
The two men approached slowly and looked at Vin, none saying a word for a moment. They were older than him by some years, but big men, obviously men who liked this part of their job very much. Ezra felt the tension in the man beside him, though he appeared outwardly calm, hard almost. His body language had changed, ever so slightly, as if coiled for defence, although it was something he thought nobody else had noticed.
..
Chris and Buck had moved around the building and also come up through the underground car park, moving back into the shadows as two of the bikes that had passed them a moment before came rumbling back down the ramp towards the front of the building and passed them again on their way out. With the sound of the bikes receding, they pressed forward silently into the settling quiet, towards the back entrance, sticking to the shadows and hidden from sight until they were rewarded with the sight of a tense stand-off ahead of them up the ramp. They could make out Nathan and Ezra, surrounded by four bikers, lit by the overhead light through the shroud of falling haze.
"Well well," Decker said, looking Vin over with an ugly smile. "Look who's walkin' again."
Vin's eyes were hard but cool as he stared back, saying nothing.
Keg, surprised, looked briefly over his shoulder from where he had Nathan bailed against the wall, not
understanding the hostility between his two friends.
Decker reached out a hand and turned Vin's face to his right, making a show of studying his cheek. "I see that's healin' up nice, didn't ruin that pretty face a' yers too much."
Vin pulled his head back, angry. "Next time ya might wanna face me alone."
Decker smiled at Flea then back at Vin, slapping him on his arm to show he meant no offence. "Hey, I'm jist jokin' 'round. Ya took it well, hell that's the first time Sugar's asked me ta step in fer him ta hand out a punishment. Ya really pissed people off with that Fed bust."
As they crept even further forward, Chris heard the exchange and began to feel the pieces slipping into place. Benning and Murphy had been talking about an FBI bust gone wrong just that day, with Vin Tanner getting punished for it. He looked harder at the profile of the lean man standing in the drizzling rain, his body taut and his jaw hard as he stared back at the man taunting him. He looked at Buck but realised Buck didn't know about the NTF agent he was considering recruiting for their team. It would certainly explain his actions in the bar, but what the hell was he doing here, unannounced and without backup?
Vin's face had become dark. The `Sugar' Decker was referring to was Ray Hopkins, his former trainer and the enforcer of the Devil's Jokers. He'd been given the name due to his role as the punisher of the gang, after the famous boxer Sugar-Ray Leonard. He had known Vin since he was a kid and despite all evidence to the contrary, he'd had a hard time going to work on him over the FBI bust that he'd been held responsible for. Unlike the original Sugar Ray Robinson, Hopkins's style was definitely not as sweet as sugar, his punishment was brutal and severe and where informants were concerned, very exacting. He had asked Decker to step in after only five minutes, pleading illness.
Vin remembered the look the older man had given him as he'd stood down, leaving him to Decker. It was not an apology exactly, more one of regret that he had been put in such a position. He'd stood aside and watched on as Decker had gone to work on him and Vin had thought it a futile gesture, for Decker's punishment had been worse than Sugar's would have been. In the end, Sugar had had to call a stop to it, for Vin had not been aware enough for it to have any further affect. He remembered enduring hours of pain, his chest on fire and blood dripping down his face like hard earned sweat as another two 'brothers' had held him upright. He'd questioned everything that day, questioned whether it was justice or vengeance that he really sought, questioned what ends he would go to to see it through. How far was too far before he could not return? What would he really do when he finally came face to face with the man he had pictured every day since he'd ridden away and left him curled in the dirt with his mother's blood raining down on him from above?
In the end, he could do little more than try not to choke on the blood pooling into his mouth, pouring from his nose before waking up in the hospital, handcuffed to a bed for no other reason than he was a potential outlaw and they were taking no chances with him.
That beating had cost him more than pain, it had cost him his case. Lomely had refused to let him go back in after he'd seen him in the hospital and despite all of Vin's arguments he'd flat out refused to budge. He'd gone so far as to organise for him to go on an exchange to Denver for three months. Vin had tried to explain to him that you just did not walk out of a club like that, you were a member for life, to some extent. Lomely had replied that he had never really been a member of the gang in the first place, then asked Vin whether he actually understood that.
He'd been undercover so long, living the outlaw life day in and day out, Vin had to admit to himself that he'd been losing his objectivity. His goal had never wavered, he wanted to bring the sons of bitches down, one man in particular, and to do that he knew he'd have to go to Denver eventually, but he'd thought he'd have more time to prepare. He'd ingrained himself with his club and it's men back in Texas, but Denver was a whole new ball game.
Perhaps on some level he had avoided the confrontation, knowing Denver was the only end to his quest and yet baulking when the opportunity finally came. Perhaps he was afraid of what he would do, what it would take to put his demons to rest permanently. Whatever the basis for his turmoil, he'd been forced to give in and agree to go, but he'd never intended to step back and 'regather himself', as Lomely had put it.
Once he'd committed himself to this final stage of his life long journey, his mind had begun to take action. He'd asked for a weeks leave, intending to scope out the city before he made his presence known to the DEA, but when he'd told the Joker's he wanted to go to Denver, they had insisted he check in with the chapter straight away, just as he'd known they would. He knew Lomely would be highly pissed at him if he knew he'd already made contact, but Vin had needed to keep his options open and he just couldn't make Lomely see the truth; you did not step out of that life of a sudden, unless you were dead or prepared to relocate to another country to hide out for the rest of your natural life.
The fact was, Vin Tanner had a goal and no one was going to get in the way of that, not until he'd seen it finished, one way or another. He'd come too far and been through too much to let it go now, no matter the consequences. He'd formulated a plan on the long ride and he was determined to put it in action, starting tonight. He was going to make some noise so that his father heard about it, then he was going to use his time in Denver to weave his way into his circle of trusted allies - and bring him down from the inside...
But right now he had more immediate hurdles. He wanted to tell the man standing less than a foot from his reach to try him one on one right the hell now, that he'd like to see him in a ring, on his turf, but he reminded himself that it wasn't personal, it was the way the organisation operated. They policed themselves and he had been found guilty. Decker was goading him, but he didn't expect a fight. He was aware of the southerner looking at them curiously.
"So go ahead Keg, show us yer moves," Flea said, moving to lean on the wall by Vin and crossing his arms to watch the show.
Decker nodded towards Nathan and spoke to Vin, "You wanna do the honours?"
"Go 'head," Vin offered, not moving.
Decker smiled and moved to take Nathan's arms to hold him for Keg.
"You need help with that one?" Flea asked Vin, pointing to Ezra.
Vin looked at Ezra in warning. "Nah, we'll save him fer later."
Ezra looked at Vin curiously, he just didn't know what to make of him. He looked the part of the biker and his eyes alone showed he was capable of a coldness beyond even his own, but why did he feel like he was not entirely committed to the outfit? He weighed his options as the big blonde man stepped towards his new team member. The giant thug was pulling back his arm for the first punch to Nathan's head when a voice came from the shadows.
"Let him go."
All eyes turned to the darkness leading down to the car park below ground. There were concrete pillars and gaps enough to conceal an army down there.
'Stay in the shadow boys,' Vin thought, 'cos if they see ya, you'd better hope ya kill 'em all or yer dead men.'
"Who the hell's that?" Flea asked, pushing off the wall with his hip and uncrossing his arms.
"Here, take over," Decker said to Flea, who took over holding Nathan's arms. The two dark-haired bikers looked similar as they passed each other, swapping places. Both were big men, both with dark, untamed hair that was marginally longer than their thick beards.
Decker pulled a gun and loaded it with a sharp movement, aiming towards the source of the voice. "Show yerself!"
"Police! Let him go and back away!" came the shout from the shadows.
Decker laughed, moving to stand beside Vin. With no warning he casually pointed and fired a booming shot at the direction of the voice.
Ezra turned away from the crack of the deafening gunshot that had exploded so close to his head, his ear screaming from the blast as Flea and Keg both laughed. Vin, however, decided to try another tactic.
"What the fuck are ya doin'?" he said, stepping angrily in front of Decker, trying to block another shot once he was sure that there would be no return fire coming their way. He eyed the mean, hard face before him, ready for any response. The man was unpredictable, to say the least.
Decker looked at Vin and then snarled. "What the fuck does it look like I'm doin'? Get the hell out of my way before I fire one at you."
"Ya wanna shoot a cop an' bring the whole force down on us?" he said, injecting as much anger as he could into his words, all the while trying to give the cops a chance to make their move.
Decker merely raised his gun and levelled it between Vin's eyes. "Ya wanna stand here an' let 'em arrest us?" He called out so that his voice could be heard, "Come out an' show yer badges ya pussies!"
Vin shoved the gun away. "Point that thing at me again n'I'll make ya eat the fuckin' thing." It was a quiet, deadly promise.
Chris signalled to Buck to move in. This was it, the shooter was distracted - and not unintentionally if he was right about who the mystery biker was.
For a moment Vin and Decker stood staring at each other in a charged silence before Keg spoke.
"For fuck sakes, does this look like a good time to get into it?" He'd pulled out a knife and was holding it towards Nathan.
"Get out of the way Turner, before I give ya another beatin'… I'll make sure ya don't walk away this time, an' ya don't have yer buddy Sugar ta watch yer back this time."
Vin's eyes stayed on Decker. He'd seen that crazed, hungry look on the man's face once before. He knew then that this wasn't going to end without bloodshed. He wondered at the man's real intention in coming down here. He'd known he was in town, had he rode here tonight to seek him out? "This time I won't be so defenceless ya gutless piece'a shit."
"What the hell is wrong with you two?!" Keg couldn't believe they were getting stuck into each other right there and then. Then again, he hadn't been in Texas when Decker had beaten the hell out of Turner, either. Something told him Decker had gone further than the job required. Even Flea was getting antsy.
"Come on, Deck, save it fer later."
At that moment, the rain chose to pick up its heavy pace again, but the two men staring each other down didn't seem to notice.
"Move," Decker said again to Vin, although he didn't raise his gun this time, "before I make ya."
Vin was a man who chose his fights carefully and was certainly not provoked by such an adolescent taunt, but after a moment more, he deemed this one necessary. He wanted to keep Decker busy, but he had to admit, he had other motives driving him. His lip turned up slightly in anticipation as he offered a soft challenge, feeling like a reckless teenager himself all of a sudden.
"So make me."
Their eye contact held, each slowly shrugging out of their heavy jackets and moving their arms aside to drop them to the ground. Before the weight of leather had finished settling on the ground, like a flag dropped at a race signalling the start, the first punch was thrown.
The sharp blow found its mark at Vin's jaw and the younger man's head snapped to the right, although his legs remained rooted to the spot, facing the source of attack. Large, steady sheets of rain were now illuminated by the overhead light as the deadly battle waged underneath. Vin's eyes remained closed a moment, but an image flashed beneath his lids. The red dragon had reached out towards him again… He had last seen the tattoo months ago, when it had become a source of fascination for him to focus his attention on during his long hours of enduring the punishing blows dealt by Decker's arms. It rode the length of the bikers forearm with its talons reaching down across the massive fingers of his hand.
Chris and Buck watched the fight start as they moved through the shadows towards the light, moving towards Nathan first while the other two were occupied with each other.
In the rising noise of the water hitting the building and the ground, Vin eyes refocused as his head moved back to look at the man who had taken such pleasure in inflicting pain on him back in Texas. As the water drove down his face, dripping from his already wet hair, he did not blink again. He kept his eyes on his prey, slowly turning his head away and spitting out the blood that had already collected in his mouth to the ground. His tongue found the metallic taste on his lips and his eyes promised retribution. Slowly, wolfishly, he grinned, blood glistening on his teeth in the light for a suspended moment before he retaliated with a driving punch of his own that caught the larger man out, although he had been expecting it, for it had come too fast to block.
Decker staggered back from the punch that dealt everything the lean upper body before him had to give and before he could recover, Vin was right on top of him, not allowing him a second of respite as he drove out with a sharp kick that sent him into the wall and caused his gun to drop to the wet ground. Vin quickly kicked it aside and pressed on with his attack, feeling his knee strain under the stress and doing his best to keep it from buckling. It was worth the pain to see Decker hit the wall.
As Decker went down, Flea freed one arm from holding Nathan in order to pull his own gun. He'd spotted Chris and Buck creeping out from their cover and quickly decided to use Nathan as a shield as he turned and fired a shot in their direction.
"Back off or I'll kill him!" he yelled at them, not believing that in the midst of a shootout with the cops, his own men were going at it.
Keg turned towards the direction of Flea's shot and in the blink of an eye, found his situation reversed. Nathan's arm had been freed the second before the biker wielding the knife had turned away and the combat skilled agent had seized his opportunity. He lashed out and gripped the hand holding the knife, pulling it toward him and putting pressure on the fingers, managing to snatch the deadly weapon into his own hand in a lightening fast move that left his attacker stunned. He didn't stop there, as Keg turned back toward him in shock, he sunk the blade deep into his shoulder, causing the biker to howl in pain and step back. Nathan then spun around and broke free of the arm still holding him and faced the other outlaw who was now holding a gun, but had at least lost his human shield.
In his peripheral vision, Vin caught a glimpse of Nathan turning the tables on Keg and realised that he was no mere bartender.
Buck and Chris moved further forward, exposed now and with no cover. There was only one direction they could head as they watched the six men fight, knowing full well how dangerous the situation was. Flea aimed his gun at Ezra as Nathan tried to draw his attention back to him by threatening him with his knife. Keg was now clutching his shoulder, but his pain was fast turning to anger. Chris saw this and knew that the giant of a man would be back in the game at any moment if they didn't intervene.
All the while, he observed the other two bikers now fighting fiercely, the larger one grunting with the effort of the massive blows he aimed at the other, with the leaner man fighting in a calculated, methodical way, using far less energy. His posture was practiced, natural, fluid, despite his injuries. He moved little, turning and following the larger man slowly, whereas the bigger man was fighting out of pure anger and the knowledge that he was stronger and could pack a harder punch.
"Drop it," Chris told Flea, both he and Buck aiming their guns towards him.
"Fuck you, you drop the guns or I'll shoot him." Flea nudged his gun at Ezra, shooting a glance at Nathan, "and back off with that knife, I don't wanna waste a bullet on you but I will."
"How about you drop that gun so we don't waste a body bag," Buck offered.
Flea's scowl deepened. "I drop this gun and you pigs are all over me." He threw a glance at Decker, fighting hard with Turner. What the hell was he thinking, fighting with the man now? He knew his friend had wanted to challenge the young fighter, had relished the opportunity to administer his punishment back in Texas, but he hadn't thought he'd pick such a stupid time to do it. Decker was the one who always handled situations like this. Now he found himself on his own and he didn't like it, not one bit. He shot a glance at Keg, who was also scowling at their fighting brothers. "What the hell are they doin'?!"
Keg didn't look up, just shook his head.
Chris gave his own head a slight shake. "I'm not saying it again, drop your weapon now." There was no room for discussion in the hard stance of his lean frame, nor in the unyielding glare from his eyes. Flea turned to him and they stared each other down across the distance.
Meanwhile Vin found himself shoved backwards as Decker growled at him. "I'm gonna kill you this time you little fuck. Should have done it back in Texas like they wanted me to."
Distracted by the words he caught another sharp right above his left eye, feeling a cut open up as Decker lunged at him. He sidestepped and managed to throw the larger man once more into the wall, but was caught by a strong grip on his arm that brought him crashing down to the ground. He tried to stay focused but his stubborn mind replayed the words he'd just heard. Who wanted him dead back in Texas?.
Decker grinned, seeing his taunting had worked. "Lucky your friend Sugar Ray stepped in, or you wouldn't have needed the hospital."
Decker managed to manoeuvre the smaller man to the ground where they continued to wrestle. The older man knew he didn't have the skill, nor the energy, to dance around all night and so he fought dirty, like he always did. He managed to get Vin's t-shirt up from the back of his jeans and pulled hard to tug it over his head, where he then punched the exposed, lean stomach, hard. Vin was forced to kick out, once again jarring his recovering knee and causing himself to stumble. He hurriedly pulled back, letting the movement tug his shirt over his head the rest of the way clear, leaving Decker to hold the grey, soaked material in his hands with no advantage while he remained free to advance again. His exposed chest immediately felt the bite of the rain as he faced off with Decker. The still fading bruises around his ribs shadowed his skin under the glow of the glimmering light and the outline of several dark tattoo's were revealed. The bruises were targets, in Decker's mind, areas of easy pain to be exploited.
Doing just that, the bigger man sent a driving punch right into Vin's ribs, causing him to bend forward in an instinctive gesture of self-protection, before the massive force of Decker's body barrelled into him, driving him this time into the hard wall behind him and following up with a terrible punch that knocked the back of his skull into the concrete.
Dazed, for a moment, Vin let another punch through, this one to his stomach and this time he dropped to his knees in a puddle of water. His ribs were on fire, pushing against flesh and muscle as he struggled to simply breathe.
Decker wasted no time and snatched up the gun that had been kicked aside, pouncing once more and kicking Vin the rest of the way to the ground before throwing his weight on top of him, taking his time, secure in the knowledge that he had the gun in his hand and could use it at any point he chose to end it.
His bare back pressing into the wet concrete, Vin watched the gun come down as Decker hit him hard, driving his face to the side. Out of pure instinct his hands rose up to ward off the barrel that was coming down again to aim at his head and they began to fight for possession, each panting and groaning in the effort to get control.
Vin was at a disadvantage, with Decker using his weight to move up and keep him pinned, making a steady effort to trap his arms beneath his knees. The NTF agent knew that once that happened, he would be in serious trouble.
He caught another glimpse to his right and registered Flea aiming to fire at Nathan.
Despite the stand-off taking place around him and the orders of the men to surrender, Keg had stepped towards Nathan and shoved him in the back, towards Flea, satisfied when the black man turned to face him again, while Flea continued to hold his gun on Ezra.
"Last chance, pigs, back off!" he yelled glancing again towards Vin and Decker. He finally lost his patience with the fighting pair. He and Flea were outnumbered without them and needed their help. "YOU FUCKING IDIOTS! BREAK IT UP!" he yelled in frustration.
Chris and Buck both saw that Flea was about to fire. He was backed to the wall and knew it and he wasn't about to go down without taking a shot at them, with Ezra being in his direct line of fire. As both agents were applying pressure to their triggers, however, they watched as Nathan was suddenly shoved from behind and suddenly their aims were unexpectedly blocked.
"Put the gun down and let him go," Chris ordered calmly, trying to subtly realign his position.
In the next second, Flea's eyes squinted. His finger squeezed on his trigger, forcing one deadly bullet to begin its flight out of the chamber.
Chris and Buck both saw his aimed look, watched his hand move and were desperately trying to find a shot that wouldn't hit either Ezra or Nathan when another gunshot rang out, this time from an entirely different direction.
For a moment nobody moved, even Decker paused, keeping his grip on the gun that had just exploded in his hands and turning his head to see where the shot had gone. Then the first gagging noise of a man fighting to breathe rose over the sound of the rain as each came to realise who had been shot.
Flea's eyes were opened wide in shock as his air was instantly cut off. Both hands came to his throat in a futile effort to close the hole that had perforated his windpipe. A terrible, desperate, gargling sound came from his mouth as he staggered backwards and dropped to his knees, still trying to defy the inevitable and live.
Not yet knowing who had fired, Chris turned and saw that the two men on the ground were paused in their struggle for the moment. The smoking gun was held out to the side, still caught in their straining hands as they watched their friend die in the rain.
Decker, however, knew exactly who had fired and he pulled his eyes from the sight of Flea dying to look down at Vin. One minute they'd been struggling for possession and the next the Texan had shifted his weight and purposely moved the gun in Flea's direction. He'd killed Flea on purpose... He knew it beyond any doubt and his eyes widened in rage and spat sudden vengeance as he shouted out his fury.
"MOTHER-FUCKING TRAITOR!"
Vin was satisfied he'd prevented the southerner's death, but in the next instant was fighting for his own life from an overwhelming, powerful force from above that came from a man who's best friend had just been killed and was fortunate enough to have the murderer in his grasp.
In the same instant, Buck and Chris both trained their weapons on Keg who had raised his arms in surrender, more interested in Vin now fighting for his life on the ground than in causing any more trouble for the moment. A jail term meant nothing to him, it was merely another chapter of the club to visit, he would be well looked after. His concern was for what the hell was going on between Decker and Turner – and what in hell had just happened to Flea. He avoided looking at the bleeding man, dying only a few meters from his feet. He knew there was nothing he could do for him. Instead, he tried to work out why Decker had called Vin a traitor, why the fight had just become something beyond furious. If he didn't do something, Decker was going to kill Vin, and that he wouldn't allow.
Buck nodded to Chris, keeping his gun trained on the unresisting Keg. "I got him."
With a nod, Chris looked at Nathan who was moving to see to the dying man on the ground.
"I'm fine," Nathan said, pausing. He pointed to the still fighting men with his hand. "Just stop those two from killing each other - or me," he added wryly. He had no explanations for what he knew, but from the shout of traitor that had come from the larger biker, the shirtless biker had shot the man dying noisily at his feet on purpose and in doing so, had saved his life. Why in hell he would do that, he had no idea, but he was still alive and he wanted to remain that way.
Chris turned to the newly escalated fight, looking for a way to break it up. Both men had blood running down their faces, mingling with the saturating rain that soaked their clothes and skin. He looked to Ezra in question then and the southerner, too, nodded that he was fine.
The smaller man appeared to be losing against the barrage of hits thrown his way. The gun was still wavering between them, dangerously moving with their struggle as Chris held his own gun ready, waiting for an opportunity to put an end to the battle.
Vin was aware of the two cops stepping closer and at that moment, something inside him spurred to renewed life; this was not how it was going to go down. Visions of large, brutal men, using their force to torment another came to his mind. He needed to know that physical strength would not always prevail. Decker needed to know that he could not beat him alone… and so he twisted beneath the massive weight with everything he had, his wounded ribs screaming in protest and stabbing against his lungs as he fought and won to get a leg up and throw his attacker off balance. It was an agile, unexpected move and in an instant he was staggering to his feet, unsteady, but still managing to strike out with his booted foot and dislodge the gun from Decker's hand.
Counteracting his damaged knee by supporting his weight with a hand against the concrete wall, his next kick connected with ribs, followed by another, then another as his mind flashed images of Decker coming at him, with his fists raised and striking out at him for endless hours until he was senseless with the pain. His knee was then forgotten, both hands free now as he moved to deliver pain and retribution for a time long ago when his mother lay writhing beneath the massive, dirty bulk of the brutal men that had killed her. The dragon was snapped back as Vin's foot broke the bone of the wrist and then he did not see Decker's face before him, he saw a torrent of blood creeping slowly across battered floorboards, dripping down between the cracks to the cold earth beneath… It was only when he felt a hand on his arm that he jerked from the intrusive touch and spun to the new source of attack, his fist pulled back in preparation to fight, his chest heaving with the need to find oxygen.
Chris watched as wild blue eyes, as stormy as the overhead sky and filled with more than simple fury, bore into his own, taking a moment to focus and see his face, so caught up were they in his battle and his raging thoughts. The man's breath was coming fast and furiously and Chris noted the way he held his ribs in pain. He had shied from his touch and rounded on him in an instant, the fight not yet dead in his eyes. He'd had no choice but to step in, the man on the ground would likely be dead now if he hadn't. He noticed several tattoo's on the man's skin, but one in particular stood out now beneath his still raised arm, the dark ink tracing a path down the inside of his arm from the dark curve of his armpit to the inside of his elbow, a damn painful place to have one if ever he could think of one.
Vin blinked again and focused on the blonde man's face, feeling blood trickling from the cut above his eye as he regained control of his turbulent thoughts. He panted with exertion, his hand held to his side where his ribs were flaming in pain and looked down at the man on the ground, the man that he had been about to beat to death, perhaps would have, if the cop hadn't stopped him. What did that make him? Was he any better than the man now bleeding at his feet? With a grimace of pain more than physical, he lowered his arm and turned his back on the damage he had done, causing his knee to twist in pain as he leant out for the wall to support himself – and missed the sight of the downed biker pulling his second gun.