Sins of the Father

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own Sons of Anarchy and the serial killer mentioned in this story is completely fictional although he is heavily based on the very real Ted Bundy.

Author's Note: I'm originally from Florida, where I was born in the 80s. Bundy was used as the boogieman to keep children and teenagers from talking to strangers when I was a kid even though he was already on death row by the time I was born. In fact, he was executed shortly before I turned one. Morbid fact, the town I was born in was close enough to the prison where Bundy was executed that the lights in the town dimmed when the (no longer used) electric chair was fired up because it was drawing so much extra electricity. We moved to North Carolina when I was still very young, but my parents and older siblings lived in that town for over a decade. My mom remembered the lights dimming a total of 5 times, Bundy included, when she lived there. In fact, she remembered that it was early in the morning and that she hadn't even gotten my older brothers and sister up for school yet. The only reason she was up was because apparently as a baby, I was a before the crack of dawn early riser. That habit did not last into my adult years.

Author's Note II: This story is set in the late 90's simply because I was feeling nostalgic for the year I first started writing.

"What did her daddy do? What did he put you through?"

~ Aerosmith, Janie's Got A Gun

January 25, 1999

Tacoma, Washington

Mercy looked up from her social studies homework when she heard the bell over the diner's front door ringing, alerting her to the fact that she had a customer. This was unusual. It was a cold and rainy (more than usual) winter morning after the breakfast rush and before the lunch time crowd moved in. Mercy was used to having this time to herself to study for her SATs. The diner was owned by Mercy's mother and she was the only other employee besides the cook, Austin who never left the kitchen because he was highly anti-social. Looking towards the entrance, she was surprised to find not one customer, but three. And they weren't the usual sort of hipster customer they normally got. These five men looked like bikers. All were dressed in baggy jeans and black leather vests with images of the grim reaper on them. No. Friggin. Way. These men were members of the Sons of Anarchy motorcycle club. The MC had a reputation in Tacoma, but it wasn't a good one. Given the colorful background that Mercy came from, it wasn't a surprise that she was fascinated by the stories she heard around town of a member of the club nicknamed the Tacoma Killa. She's heard more than one story of this hitman from friends and customers to the diner.

The tall, bald biker was the one who approached the counter.

"Can I help you?" Mercy shot him what she hoped was a friendly smile.

"Uh, yeah, can I get 5 of the lunch specials delivered to the table in the back, please?" The biker was way more polite than I would have expected.

"Sure," I nodded. "I'll put in that order and be by to get your drink orders just a few minutes."

The attractive man, who had to be in his mid-to-late 20's gave me a small smile and a nod.

I made my way to the kitchen to talk to Austin, who hadn't had a customer in over an hour. "Hey, I need 5 club sandwiches and an equal number of onion rings."

"We have customers?" Austin had been leaning against a counter reading a book. This news took him by surprise. "Damn, I thought I'd get more time to read today."

"I'm just as surprised as you are," Mercy replied. "But guess what?

"What?"

"Their sons."

Austin looked at her in confusion. "All men are." He nodded.

Mercy rolled her eyes. "No, they're members of the Sons of Anarchy."

"Do I need to come out there with you?" He was suddenly alarmed. Austin had to be worried if he was offering to leave the sanctuary that was his precious kitchen.

"No, we're good. They're being polite," I assured him.