General disclaimer that I almost always forget to put in each chapter: these characters aren't mine. the only one I own is my OC. That's it. This is my first SOA fanfic I've published. Ever. I know this chapter is short and cuts to various POV's but... that'll be explained in the next chapter. promise.
"…is he dead?"
"Hush Juciey Boy, I can't help him with ye breathin down my neck." Rough hands slid against torn clothing in an attempt to help stop the bleeding. "Call Jax 'n have him get Tara to the clubhouse."
The sound of leather boots scuffing the asphalt started fading out. A myriad of sounds including a constant ringing and an engine starting up in the distance slowly wound through the thick haze. How long had it been? Five seconds…? Five minutes? It didn't matter. Why couldn't these voices just go away? They didn't sound like Mayans or those Nazi pricks.
"Hey Lad," the voice should've been louder. Unrelenting pressure built up. "Lad, stay with me." The same rough hands started feeling for something. "Holy Shite."
The Scotsman could hardly think between Juice's frantic call and the sight of blood dripping constantly from the man's ears below him.
"Tara's already there, Chibs." Juice frowned as the Scot cursed. "What?"
The elder man shook his head and continued to peel off layers of clothing. He tossed a shattered helmet over his shoulder and ripped off the remains of a leather jacket to clear his head before he motioned for Juice to lift up the man's legs. "Get 'em in."
"Jesus Christ." Jax Teller shook his head as Tara leaned over the body spread out over the redwood table. As if they already didn't have enough shit to deal with.
"Oh, it gets better." Chibs rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index fingers. "Here."
Jax took the held out wallet from the Scotsman's hand. He flipped it open and did a double take from the body back to the ID in the wallet. "Holy Shit."