Pixie, First Daughter of Anarchy

Patch Over: Chapter 6

 The hour and half on the road flew by for the trio. They quickly lost themselves in the music joking with each other as they jammed out and sang along to the lyrics they knew. Although Tig didn't know some of the newer bands, he liked the tunes as well as making Pixie laugh with his air guitar strumming. Eventually Juice turned the music down so he could ask Tig for directions and Pixie leant forwards and watched the road through the windscreen, looking for anything she recognised from her journey to Charming.

"Where's the next gas station?" Juice asked, slowing down a little.

"To the left, to the left." Tig instructed, consulting the map.

"Now take it back now y'all." Pixie sang quietly with a little cheeky grin on her face.

"Please tell me I did not just hear that." Juice chuckled as he pulled in. "I may as well fill up the tank, least we know it'll have enough to get us there."

"You worry too much, but sure, why not." Tig said with a shrug, he absent-mindedly reached out for Pixie's hair and stroked it soothingly. "You want snacks?"

"Silly question." Pixie grinned.

Tig chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you got me there, I'll go see what the gas station has to offer."

"Get me snacks too." Juice said as he jumped from the cab to go fill up the tank.

"Sure, sure." Tig responded as he gingerly stepped down, wincing from the bite mark.

"Hey, maybe you'll turn into a were-doberman." Pixie called out, leaning over the back of the seats.

"Woof, woof." Tig chuckled before heading off to the store to get the snacks and pay for the gas. Pixie hopped into the front seat and watched Juice fill up the tank from the wing mirror, he caught her looking, crossed his eyes, and stuck his tongue out. Pixie copied him and they goofed off that way until Juice was done. He got back in and turned the radio on.

"I'm gonna listen to the traffic broadcast, just to make sure we don't get stuck in a jam. Why don't you get out and stretch? You've been all curled up like a cat for the past hour."
"It's comfy, but yeah that does sound nice." Pixie said jumping down from the truck. She wandered across the court to ease the stiffness in her knees and stretched her arms around, rolling her neck and looking up at the stars.

"Yo, ese, is that the bitch that slashed our tires?" A male voice with a heavy Mexican accent sounded from Pixie's right. She'd clocked a trio of bikers getting gas, but hadn't taken too much notice of them until now. Pixie turned to look and recognised two of the three, her stomach sank.

"It is! It's the bitch that broke my nose!" Exclaimed one of them, he had gauze and tape over his swollen nose and two black eyes, Pixie recognised it as her handiwork immediately, and realised it was the Mayans that had tried to run her off the road when she'd been travelling through Nevada to Charming. "Hey! Hey, bitch!" He yelled out to her. Pixie sighed, realising there was no way she was going to be able to avoid them. She stepped closer to the group, hands on her hips. In the back of Pixie's mind, she wondered if she'd picked up that habit from Tig.

"Not you bastards again, what do you want now?" She asked, raising her eyebrow.
"Payback. You didn't really think you'd escape us after what you did?" The shorter one threatened.

"Considering I haven't seen you fuckers for like two, three weeks, yeah, I kinda thought I'd left you all in the dirt, where you belong." Pixie said with a shrug.

"You don't get to talk to us like that, perra. Get her." The first one growled. They stalked forwards and Pixie clocked their weapons and sized them up. The first one was a tall, slender man with short, black hair which was slicked back. He had a butterfly knife, which he was twirling around menacingly. The second one was a shorter, broader man with shoulder length brown hair, his dark eyes twinkled dangerously, accentuating the bruises that surrounded them, he had a crowbar which he swung into his palm a couple of times. The last one looked younger than the other two he had a slight limp and Pixie vaguely remembered stamping on his ankle when she'd fought the pair on the side of the road. He pulled his arms up into a boxer's stance and his spiked knuckle dusters gleamed in the crisp light of the overhead gas station light.