The Sons of Satan Territory Monday, July 4th 19:23
THE JOURNEY TO THE OTHER SIDE
"In fact, there weren't many things Scar didn't hate."
SCAR GROANED IN DISAPPROVAL at one of the clubs whores climbing onto his lap. Trying to get his attention, she shamelessly began showering light but sloppy kisses on his neck. He was not in the mood - not one bit. Scar was visibly tense, his lips pulled back in a tight, nasty scowl. He wished to lock himself in his room with a bottle of whisky and drink it until he passed out.
As the Vice-President came into Scars line of sight, he instantly shot up out of his seat, letting the woman fall to the floor with a thud. Earlier, he had been told about the meeting that was to happen as soon as Vice returned from the other side of the border. They were to discuss a serious matter involving The Wolves and a recent uprising of a small motorcycle club down south, in between the two clubs' domains. Scar didn't know what to expect but from the look on Malia's - Razor's Old Lady - face, he knew something was terribly wrong.
Entering the Presidents office with a powerful stride, he immediately sensed a tense vibe coming from his brothers. They all sat, some slouched, around the long mahogany table staring intently at Razor, the President of the Sons Of Satan. Taking his allocated seat among the other most trusted riders of the club, Scar seized up and began looking across the table at his closest brother, AJ. He projected a questioning look hoping to be mildly prepared for the Presidents speech but AJ merely shrugged his shoulders and turned to face Razor, leaving Scar even more worried.
Scar had never been a man of many words, but even he couldn't help the many profanities stringing out of his mouth like vomit when Razor had addressed the situation in the calmest way he could. It turns out the bastards from the small motorcycle club had been stealing from their shipments of drugs and messing with the not-so-legal side of their coterie. Thousands of dollars of goods had been reported stolen earlier that day and many days before that. It would take months to regain that kind of money, but that wasn't what had pissed Scar off the most - oh god no.
It was the screeching sound of Razor explaining that some of the brothers had to go to the other side of the border, to inform The Wolves of their recent discovery, and stay to help form a plan to overcome it.
The Sons Of Satan and The Wolves secured a peace pact many years ago. They were not enemies but that didn't necessarily mean they were friends either. It was only the pact, made by the President's ancestors, that kept the two from trying to overthrow one another. Razor had explained that Vice had been to the other side that morning to prepare them for their arrival. Vice had been good friends with the President of their club since he was little as he was supposedly the one who dropped him off at the club to be taken in by the President and Malia - the mother of The Sons Of Satan.
It wasn't that Scar hated The Wolves, it was just the mere thought of leaving his home and going to a totally foreign place, to help sort some bullshit problem, that had him so riled. He knew as soon as Razor looked him in the eyes that he would have to go and there was no arguing with that. Scar respected his President and would do anything to keep his brothers safe, no matter what the cost.
Scar couldn't shut his eyes that night, his thoughts were spiralling out of control over what could happen whilst he was gone. He hated the unknown. He loathed not being in control. He despised change. In fact, there weren't many things
hate, he figured that was what made up his bad-boy-biker persona. Scar merely wanted to be left alone, he didn't like socialising and he didn't like meeting new people, he preferred the idea of going insane from loneliness more than going insane over the pain of losing those he loved. He often questioned if that theory alone made him
The next morning, all of the Sons of Satan gathered outside to say their farewells to the brothers who were going to the Wolves' territory. Whilst the whores of the club admired the muscles on each and every one of the riders, Razor and Malia stood hand in hand with anxious looks on their faces. They knew how dangerous sending out 5 of their most trusted men was, but they had to risk it if they wanted their money and goods back.
Malia always hated seeing the boys leave, they were her sons, though, not through blood but through love and respect. Although she worried for every last one of the boys going to the other side, she couldn't help but look over at the black-haired, brown-eyed rider and frown. To say she worried about Scar the most would be an understatement. Both Malia and Razor felt a different type of bond with him, a much deeper and meaningful one, almost like the one parents would have with their child. Razor rubbed his thumb gently and understandingly over Malia's hand, trying to soothe her as tears began to build in her emerald eyes.
Scar straddled his bike whilst he sucked desperately on a cigarette. His anxiety was getting the best of him. He found himself fidgeting and subtly bouncing his knee trying to ease his train wreck of a head. It wasn't that he was scared, Scar wasn't scared of anything, he was just nervous that he would lose control in a place that wouldn't understand him. He would never hurt anyone without reason, except when he falls into the black abyss of his own loneliness, anxiety and tragic history.
He took his time breathing, trying so hard to keep his emotions under control. Trying so hard to look okay. Scar hated when people asked questions, he hated when people pretended to care just so they could keep updated on his life like he was the newest trend on FaceBook. He just wanted to be left alone but apparently, that was far too much to ask.
"You ready boys?" shouted Vice whilst he stood on his cigarette, draining every last ounce of life from it. Scar merely revved his engine and began moving his bike forward in response, all he wanted was to get this trip over and done with as quickly as possible.
Turning his head to the side and watched as Malia ran towards him before he backed his bike up a little, decreasing the amount she had to run. Malia wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close in her embrace. She pulled him in tight, as tight as she could, almost as if it was the last time she would hold him again.
"Now, ya'll be careful out there, ya' 'ear me! I don't wanna 'ear about any accidents!" Malia says in her Southern-American tongue. Scar kissed her cheek and began to roll his bike back the way he came, all of a sudden ready for the trip to the other side.
The 2-hour ride to the Wolves' territory felt like 2 minutes to Scar. The further he drove away from the club, the more anxious he felt. He could feel his hands beneath his leather gloves shake nervously. He could feel his lungs slowly begin to close up allowing less and less air to go into his huge, built body. He wondered how he could feel so claustrophobic whilst he drove on a totally open road. Upon sightings of a building with a huge wolf spray-painted on the side, Vice began to slow causing a chain reaction effect on the rest of the riders.
The building, which Scar assumed was the Wolves' clubhouse, was surrounded by bulky men on a selection of Harley's. The clubhouse itself was 1 story but incredibly large, Scar questioned if the men's rooms were underground. Across the club was a garage where multiple bikes stood clearly under reconstruction. He and his brothers dismounted their bikes after parking them far enough away from the Wolves. The brothers of the Sons of Satan may have to work with The Wolves, but that didn't mean they trusted them - especially with their bikes. Vice, Scar, AJ, Hawk and Deeno all took powerful strides toward the front of the club where a man stood with his arms crossed. His body oozed with confidence and his harsh eyes demanded respect from those around him, though instead, Scar found himself thinking about how he got into the position of having to meet a Wolf in the first place.
"Jax," Vice spoke out as they neared them.
"Vice, you just can't stay away can you?" Jax laughed before taking Vice's hand into a strong handshake.
"Jax, these are my brothers - AJ, Scar, Hawk and Deeno," Jax nodded respectfully at our presence, "You already know our purpose here."
Scar saved himself a headache from listening to Vice and Jax talk business and started to look around. All the men on motorcycles wore the same leather jacket marked with a wolves face. The design was simply intricate. Scar had always had a passion for art, that being why his skin and the shiny surface of his bike was covered with his own designs. He found that the more designs he put onto his bike, the more he became protective of it. It was almost as if he feared if someone were to look at it for too long, they would understand aspects of his life that were extremely personal to him and Scar wasn't one for opening up.
Most of the men outside the club held glasses of beer as they laughed with one another. Scar unintentionally began to divert his eyes away from them and toward the other side of the lot. What looked to be a tattoo parlour, caught his attention immediately. It was sprayed with so much paint you could barely see the bricks, the doors and windows had many designs pinned up - designs that drew men like Scar in. But it wasn't the parlour that took Scars attention, oh no, it was the person standing with her knee propped against the wall soaking up the morning sun.
Her eyes were crystals, they sparkled and shone as they fluttered under the suns morning rays. Her skin was slightly tanned and her hair; short with long bangs, the darkest shade of black. It complimented her bright blue eyes almost too well. She looked like she had just fallen from the heavens. Scar felt his breath get caught in his throat. He had never seen anything so beautiful in all of his 25 years.
Although Scar wished to stare at her until her face was permanently locked away in the deepest part of his brain, he knew what he'd travelled to do and not even an angel could stop him from completing his mission. Scar jolted back into reality and began following Vice and Jax into the club, scolding himself for his inappropriate thoughts.