Beretta (MC#1)

Prologue

Blaze had a hard time with the Warlocks. One could tell from his downcast eyes and drooped shoulders. If it was up to him, he would've never showed his face at Church, but his old man was a hard nut.

"You better be down here in 5 if you want to keep the skin on your back", his tone had left no doubt that he was anything but bluffing. Whipping was a quite common one of his ways of punishment. Biker culture, Ma said. You have to get used to it.

Now she was the hardest nut to crack around here. If you wanted to keep your balls intact you better listen to the President, her withering glare warned to make good on his words as she followed him to the table. Always the loyal wife.

In here if one craved affection, they get a woman- simple. Affection was a private matter and even your ma stopped giving it just freely after a certain age. The harsh truth right there was biker lifestyle. Even born in it you needed to adjust a lot.

Sighing, Blaze followed his parents down to the table for Church. The men sat around some chatting with their old ladies, others lonely- like him.  Now that right there should've been an alarming sign. Everyone at the table meant shit was serious.

"Silence", Pa beat the gavel. Looking as ridiculous as a huge, tattooed man beating at a gavel. What a sight.

When a dropped pin could've been heard he spoke.  "Men, old ladies, as we know that the past month has been hard on the club due to the Warlocks trying to gain territory in our area", no doubt about that one, and 'hard' was quite the understatement. "It is an honor to stand here and proudly declare our decline from the offer made by the Warlocks- to join territory and business together", he continued and a little wrinkle at around his eyes was the only sign that he was truly happy with our consensus decision.

With his President patch full on display and his head held high, he was an inspiration for Blaze to be the leader he had been. To lead the club out of the darkness they had succumbed to during the presidency period of his ancestors. Maybe that's why that was real adoration in mother's eyes as she looked at her husband. No doubt this has been a topic of discussion on their 'No work Wednesday' dates.

The men all looked up at him their own pride glittering in their eyes like stars, lighting up the right way for the club. The world needed more men like them.

"We as a united front have refused to participate in any activities promoting the trafficking of women", hollers sounded around the room as men banged their table, a sign of approval- biker culture. The women regarded the room with the utmost respect in their eyes. In a way this was reassurance that the club would look after them- always. No matter what.

As the noise died down the President stood relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted off of him.

He ran his hand through his beard, straightening the curled grey hair growing out of shape. A sign he had had quite a lot on his plate to even think about it. He smoothed back his peppered hair. Readying himself.

"But we need their alliance as the Warlocks have managed the unite all the clubs in the area. Yes, even the Bacchus", the mood dampened, and Blaze sat straighter in his seat as everyone held their breath, looking on in anticipation except Ma. The club's leading lady, she was always of every decision before it was even announced.

"And so, to mend relations I sent my son of all people to strike up a dialogue as a sign that we don't want be a threat and nor will we want to be threatened in the future. We just want to conduct business on our own territory", heads turned, and Blaze tried not to sink into his seat. He was a man now, no longer a teenager. A member now, no more a prospect. No, he had not just been awarded a seat. Yes, he had to work hard for his patch. Being the President's son meant you had a harder life than the others.

Everything you did would determine the number of votes in your presidency when the time came. These men and women weren't just here for fun, they had a say in everything. And that was why Blaze wiped his face clear of emotions, willing his voice not to waver as he spoke once even the President looked at him expectantly.

"The Warlock's leader, Sting, has straightaway refused our offer of a truce saying if we're not with them, we're against them", faces stoned and before complete disappointment could set in he went on.

"But his wife and Vice President Rock have asked for time and a legal document to be brought up as a single decision of their club Church", better to just rip off the band aid, Pa always said and judging by his expression which was almost non-existent he still had hope. What a tough man, Blaze thought as if his 18 years in this world hadn't been a representation of it.

The President composed himself. Looked at his wife just once, who gave him a look only they shared. Reassurance, Blaze understood.

"Despite Sting's hasty reply there's still hope. Their club operates as a headquarter for all other merged clubs. The Warlocks use their resources- money and influence- to get their work done and so, we believe he has little say in the matter", he spoke with confidence, always a beacon of courage and hope and righteousness, President Scythe.

Ma stood, taking over the meeting.

"Hell's Angels, you've always been a united front, a representation – a role model for other clubs and for that we all must be applauded", she said looking each and every person in the eye and standing taller. Shoulders back, chin up, gaze unwavering; A club woman, that of the President.

She smiled, "So in gratitude for all you've done for the club, tonight we celebrate. We tell them a big 'fuck you'. We show them the middle finger and where to shove it.", The Prez coughed and his wife reddened just a bit, but the mood lightened and just like that the room lit up.

Laughter boomed and even the Prez joined in. "Lead the way, Ivy"

And lead she did. With everything perfect, the music coming alive and liquor pouring. The leading lady laughed with her man, even got him to dance. Anybody else would've had their jaws dislocated.

And that's how Blaze remembered his club. Filled with laughter and the joy of finally being able to find the light. That's how he remembered his parents; laughing their heads off, real love in their eyes, over the moon at being able to lead their club out of the pit of women, drugs and darkness. They danced as if they'd been doing it all their lives, perfectly in sync. And what a gift to be able to experience a love that deep, that pure- that real.

Maybe they found each other again up there, because the blast that tore the clubhouse apart that night threw them only-god-knows how far apart. Maybe they found peace up there, because the pure devastation in Ma's eyes was a far cry from the peace she deserved. Because in his last moments the President was searching for his wife.

Because with his last breath he called out for her and waited, because if she answered he'd stay, just a little while longer- for her.

She never answered.