Rainbow Six Siege: Complications

Chapter 3 (cont): Hell's Angel

You took the time to dress up and clean up before leaving Dom's place in the morning. He wasn't there when you woke, so you assumed you'd meet him some time in the club later. You rode out with your Harley and contemplated whether or not you should go pick up some breakfast. Your hair smelled like Dom's shampoo and you were mesmerized by the scent inside your helmet as you rode.

You were almost never this early to the club house, but of course, there would always be someone beating you there. Lukas owned the place, and so he lived on the top floor. You sneaked past the kennel and entered the place via the garage. In the center there was an unfinished paintjob on a motorcycle, which you assumed to be one of Lukas'. The bastard never got tired of doing work on his precious babes, unless he was taking a cocaine break. At the thought of coke, you wondered if you should check up on the Panthers to see if they needed you for a deal.

Well, not you, really, it was your father that they needed. The Panthers figured out soon enough into the business that you were the key to cutting good deals with your father, oblivious to the fact that you hated your father to the bone.

Even if they knew, you doubted it would make a difference. You were merely a medium, a pawn, and they all wanted to use you.

"Don't think I didn't see you come in." You turned towards the voice of Lukas as he walked into the garage with his arms crossed. There were specks of white under his chin. Good, at least he wouldn't hit you when he's busy being high.

"Where the fuck were you last night?" He pressed.

"None of your business." You replied, "I'm here to pick up some packs for the Panthers."

"I don't recall them asking for a shipment."

"That's because they contacted me, not you." You kept your voice iron, "You do realize that I'm the one handling all the transactions?"

He had a mocking grin on his face, "Oh, so you are running the club now, hmm? Taking care of our business and cash, right?" He moved closer to you and you instinctively backed up slowly. You could smell trouble coming your way. Lukas always behaved like this before he got aggressive.

"I am the one who built this thing. I brought this club to existence!"He shouted and you looked away from his face. He was spitting saliva like a barking dog and it was disgusting.

"Fuck off, Lukas." You said and swiftly walked away. You remember there were spare packs in the lounge, you hid them under the couch. All you needed do was grab them and get out.

"I'm not finished talking to you, bitch." He bellowed, but you were done. You moved through the club and got what you needed then hopped onto your bike again. You didn't want to fight him because you weren't in the mood to, it was pointless anyway, and you had better things to do.

You rode straight to the Panthers with packs of cocaine hidden inside your jacket, taking great care on the road that you weren't being tailed by cops. They liked picking on the Reiters, and you knew they'd stick onto you like metallic powder to magnet if they caught sight of you.

Thankfully it wasn't a long way and before you knew it you arrived at the Panthers' sanctuary. It was an insignificant house amidst condos that all looked exactly the same. The front was decorated with only a simple IKEA welcome mat and a couple of wind chimes. The names below the doorbell weren't real, at least you thought they weren't. You rang the bell and waited.

A man opened the door for you and met you with a smiling face. You greeted him before walking inside, into the heart of their world, and the smell of hookah and undone laundry invaded your nostrils. You raised your arms so the man could run a rough security check on you; yeah, as if you'd wander alone into their nest with a firearm. You knew they hadn't the balls to harm you in any way, so there was no need for you to bring a weapon. Blood was bad for business, and the Panthers were smart enough to know that.