This chapter is where I state a warning and my Disclaimer: The racial slurs and ideologies expressed by some characters are included for realism. I don't mean to offend anyone and I do not hold or condone any of the beliefs. If you have seen the film, you are familiar, but it is still disturbing.

Thanks to all who are reading, I appreciate you being here :)

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"I can't right now." Lax took a drag on his cigarette and watched the traffic. "Look Isa I'll take a later flight." He spoke loudly into his cell phone over a passing police siren. "The kid contacted me. He can wait a couple more hours. I still have the exclusive."

"Lax you are going to blow this. This is your In Cold Blood and you don't seem to care. What could you possibly be doing that is more important than getting to Iowa to talk to this Howards kid? I'm here, there are news crews here from all over the country and you're the only one the kid will talk to. "

"I'll be there tonight. That's all I can say."

She ended the call and he tossed his cigarette to the pavement. It had been a couple of days since he'd seen Ivy on television. Since then a huge story had broken about a high school shooter who'd massacred his classmates. The kid Herman Howards sent a video message to Lax wanting to tell his story on his show. Isa, of course, had called him right away. Work and ambition brought her back into their relationship dance if that's what it was. He had that empty feeling again that it wasn't Lax the person she wanted it but Lax the journalist with exclusive access to this kid. Despite the new story, all he'd been thinking about was Ivy. He needed to see her, he couldn't put it off another minute. Especially in light of Isa's attitude.

When he entered Altar, the kid behind the counter recognized him. "You're that internet dude! Lax for Legalization. Right on man, I love your show. Some of the stuff people send you is crazy, but I love it."

"Thanks, I'm actually looking for Ivy."

"Man who isn't? Her wait list is a year long. The fucking guy from Metallica's flying in Sunday to get work. Ivy is the best."

"I know her, just want to say hi."

"She's working right now...but seeing as it's you and all, go ahead. Third door on the left." The spiky-haired apprentice sent him back to her room. Lax headed down the red hallway mesmerized by the black and white checkerboard floor.

"Hey." He hesitated in the doorway. "You do good cover-ups?"

Ivy froze. That husky, sweet voice. Vic. Lax. Vic. Whatever. She turned her head slowly and met those blue eyes. He winced a bit, unsure of her reaction.

"The best." She answered taking in his appearance. He was wearing a vibrant blue button down shirt that matched his eyes. His hair was longer, lighter dirty blonde. He looked shaggy but clean-cut. That's all she could think of. Distracted, she almost forgot about the client she had been inking. A light tap on her arm made her aware that she needed to finish the tattoo on his back. Dragging the vibrating needle down the customer's flesh she softly drawled. "I'm busy now but..."

Lax leaned back the wall relieved. "I'll wait. Waited two years." He smiled noticing her bare feet. She always tattooed barefoot.

"Can you give me an hour?"

"Yeah. I like your hair like this, red. Its..."

"Something specific you want covered?" She asked interrupting him, self- protectively, her eyes focused on her client.

"Mm hmm. I think you know what it is."

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Two Years Earlier

Lax splashed water on his face and stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He looked like a scumbag with hair slicked back and unkempt facial whiskers making a scruffy goatee on his chin. He always thought he had mean, beady little eyes and combing the hair off of his forehead enhanced them. He looked sufficiently sketchy. He wore his required work apron but underneath sported rolled up Levi's jeans and ten eye black steel toed Doc Marten boots with red laces. He wasn't sure the Aryans still referenced color coded laces and braces, but he chose red which said he was willing to shed blood for his race. He washed his hands and headed back to his job.

He'd been working at the Surville diner for a week when he saw his chance to approach Sean Gall. He looked like an aging biker, balding but with a full white handlebar mustache. His black tank top revealed a smattering of AB tattoos on his arms neck and chest. He sat with two of his lackeys at one of the outdoor deck tables spouting their usual racist bullshit. His two companions were younger, Lax's age with the same biker crossed with skinhead appearance. Each man had a swastika tattooed on his earlobe. They'd been in every few days giving Lax chance to study them and plan his move.

He wiped down the unoccupied table behind the three men, listening to their conversation.

"So then this little nigger says to me what y'all got to be so proud of?" Dougie Dogg, one of the younger guys, started.

"And you told him? Gall asked.

"I didn't tell him nothin'. I spat on him."

"You spat on him?"

"Right in the face."

"Tell me something," Gall began in an exasperated tone. "How is it you expect me to make you a captain, when, faced with a beautiful opportunity to teach a nigger exactly why the white race is superior, the best you can do is waste your spit on his face? Dumb kids." He shook his head with disgust. "That's what you are. The both of you dumb kids."

Lax began clearing the dishes from their table. "Excuse me Mr. Gall?"

"What?" He barked impatiently.

"I'm sorry to bother you. I've just been waiting a long time to meet you and figured I wouldn't get a better chance than now."

"Why you want to meet me Yankee?"

"I read your book. I think you might just be a prophet."

"Is that so? Well, what can I do for you son?"

Lax reached into his back pocket for the book and the three men at the table reached for their weapons in knee-jerk reaction. When Gall saw the book, he put his hand up "Whoa okay. You just don't make a move like that boy..."

"Hoping you'd sign it for me.'

Gall chuckled."Well, lookee here boys, I'm a celebrity." After scribbling his autograph, Gall asked, "Yankee like you down here has to be for more than gettin' book signed. What else do you want son?"

"I don't really know. I just moved here from New York."

"New York City?" Gall over emphasized the three words.

"Guilty as charged."

"Boy, you're a long way from home. What were you doing in New York City?"

"I went to NYU, for law."

Gall glanced at Doug and Jimmy Carl, known as JC while he said "Well you're not a dumb kid, are you?"

"No, sir. I'm not a dumb kid." Lax asserted seriously looking Gall in the eye.

"What is it about my book that made you come down here to meet me son?" Lax saw Gall's eyes fall on to the outline of the SS bolts tattooed on his right forearm, the only one he'd managed to get done before arriving in Surville. Lax took a deep breath. He'd rehearsed the lines a million times but now the he was actually talking to Gall his heart raced with a surge of adrenaline. "It made me realize I don't need to feel ashamed of being white. In New York, how should I put it? My neighborhood was, uh, colorful."

"You ever look up the New York chapter of the brothers? "

Lax shook his head. "Wanted to but where I lived it was bad enough to have my skin shining at night while I walked home. If any of those...people had found out I was involved in something like that….well I wouldn't be standing here now."

"See! " Gall looked at JC and Doug. "This is what I'm talking about. A boy is made to feel inferior in his own damn neighborhood for no other reason than the color of his skin. And they call us racists." He shook his head the stared seriously at Lax. "Well, you've come to the right place What's your name boy?"

"Vic Bishop."

"Well okay, Vic. Where are you staying?"

"Over at the Motel 6."

"Well, I think we can find somethin' a little nicer. Why don't you bunk with us for a while?"

"That sounds real good Mr. Gall."

Lax could feel the resentful stares of Doug and JC. Winning over Gall was just the beginning. He glanced at the men and gave a small nod. Neither reacted.

"Welcome to Georgia Vic. I think you're gonna like it here."

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The best way Lax could describe the main room of the Gall's warehouse headquarters was if the interior designer from Applebee's was hired by a Neo-Nazi, who needed an interior decorator to decorate his romper room. There were Confederate and Nazi memorabilia everywhere like framed pictures of famed segregationists and reproduction photos of lynching parties mounted on the walls. There were other memorabilia dedicated to the Nazi regime as well.

"It's a beauty, isn't it?" Gall announced, breaking Lax out of his reverie. "The flag is an actual flag that was hanging in the Madison Square Garden during the night Hitler gave a speech. It's real valuable." He gestured to the faded red banner with a swastika at its center.

This place would give Bull Conner a woody, Lax thought. However, his disgust was mixed with anticipation and a sense of accomplishment. He was getting in.

Gall shouted over the conversations and music for attention in the crowded main room. When he had silence, he announced. "All right boys, listen up. This is Vic. He's the newest member of the UABA, SS. Say it boys."

"United Aryan Brothers of America, Surville Section!" Came the unanimous shout.

Lax looked around recognizing the various mixes of hate groups Gall managed to pull together. He noted members of the Confederate Hammerskins, a regional chapter of Hammerskin Nation centered around members in the Acworth area. Like many Hammerskin chapters, much of their activity focused on white power music. They were responsible for the 'partying'. He recognized insignia of the American Skins on a couple of other guys he was being introduced to. They all had shaved heads and were wearing black steel toed boots and bomber jackets with swastikas and Confederate flags.

Lax was excited, he couldn't help himself. This was the gathering place for all the major hate groups in Georgia. And it was home to Gall's UABA chapter. He was in.

"I want you boys to welcome Vic. Vic, you are answering the Call to the Aryan Nations. We will create a national, racial state. We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children. We'll have it at whatever price is necessary. Just as our forefathers purchased their freedom in blood so will we...we will have to kill the bastards!"

The room erupted in cheers, whoops and hollers. Lax nodded and looked around. He he gave a holler of his own. The discomfort started to fade as his ambition rose. Doug and JC glanced at each other, not thrilled with Gall's new favorite "son".

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"That was awesome man, shit like that doesn't happen in New York." Lax said as the black kid panicked and ran past him and his three companions.

"Fuck that noise Vic! Why didn't you stop him?" Doug asked.

"He was scared shitless. That's how we win this war. You get into their head. Save your knuckles for when it counts." Lax explained.

Doug tried to stare Vic down grimacing with disgust, Vic locked eyes with him. Doug spit to the side and looked past him. This guy talked too much. Yeah, all talk no action. He was a nigger lover being treated like a damn guest of honor. "C'mon" he ordered. The three men continued down main street.

"Hey baby what's up?" JC called out to a woman getting into a late model black Buick covered in bumper stickers. She put her grocery bags on the passenger seat, then looked back and scowled at his whistling cat call.

"She your girl or something?" Lax asked unable to take his eyes off of her. She had on denim cut off shorts, knee-high engineer boots and a gray tank top. Her dark brown hair was chin length with long side swept bangs. Her arms were sleeved with colorful tattoos.

"In his dreams!" Doug laughed. "Been trying to get into Ivy's pants since high school. She still be shutting you down Jimmy Carl."

As if on cue Ivy gave JC the middle finger. She hoped they'd just move on. Trouble, all of Sean Gall's group were trouble. Suddenly she noticed a guy she hadn't seen before. He was staring at her and even at the distance she felt a driving heat from his eyes. He wasn't from around here. He was dressed like the rest of the knuckleheads, jeans rolled up over Doc Marten boots, t-shirt, suspenders and a flannel shirt tied around his hips. But he looked...intelligent? It felt weird to think that, but that's all that came to mind when she saw his face. He hung back a little, obviously a new recruit.

"Shut the fuck up Doug. Don't know what the fuck you're talking about." JC shot back.

"Who is she?" Lax asked.

"Ivy Pierce and she does damn good tattoos for a chick. And she don't have a problem, with uh, subject matter." JC answered complimenting her.

"She in the movement? Doesn't look like a boot girl or..."

"Hell no. She's a stuck up nigger loving bitch. Just like her old man." Doug explained. "But, Sean's got something on her, so she does what we want, as far as ink goes."

Something on her? Lax was curious, wondering what it was.

"Never forget she ain't a believer though." Doug finalized, staring at JC. "So you could fuck the dumb bitch but not marry her."

JC's s face reddened and they moved on, heading to the warehouse. Lax looked back over his shoulder watching Ivy get in her car. He needed more tattoos.