Journal Entry
Damon Pearce wasn't always this way. He's always had his up and downs. It's what makes him human, just like everyone else. Something though, something recently changed in him. Being the President of the Hounds would do that. We're a headache. Maybe that's what it is. Usually he calms down though. He never used to be this way, and it looks like it's getting-
* * *
"Polk!" a booming voice shouted. "Get the hell up Brycen."
Brycen Polk looked up, seeing the man himself, Damon Pearce. Damon had curly brown hair that countered his greying stubble. His leather vested presented the patch labelled "President" on the front, with the club's logo of a hound on the back. The words "Hounds of Chaos" were arched over the logo. A cigarette dangled between his lips, while a small plume of smoke came out of his nose. Damon put his arm around Brycen as he stood, pulling him in close to him, smiling and letting the cigarette drop from his mouth to the ground.
"You doodlin' again?" Damon asked, giving Brycen a light shake. Brycen smirked, tucking his journal into the back pocket of his pants.
Brycen Polk had dirty blonde hair that was cut short, a little longer than a buzz cut. He had a trimmed dirty blonde beard that matched it. He had a leather vest of his own, with the words "V. President" presented on a small patch on the right side of the vest, right over his heart. The same logo and words were on the back of his that were on Damon's.
"Nothin gets by you boss." Brycen said, fully smiling now.
"You are Goddamn right." Damon agreed, nodding his head. The two walked towards a small shack in the middle of nowhere, which was being guarded by two men who had the same leather vests and logos as Damon and Brycen.
"Mac, with us. Trigger, stay out here." Damon ordered. The man called Trigger had dark black hair that was greased back. His real name was Giovanni Rossi, but was quickly nicknamed Trigger by the MC for one specific reason. A Glock was in his hand, with his finger already resting on the trigger, itching to pull it.
"Right behind you boss man." Mac said, following Damon and Brycen into the shack. Charlie "Mac" McDonald had dirty blonde hair that was greased back just like Trigger's. He had a dirty blonde goatee that didn't connect, and multiple tattoos on his upper forearms. A patch was present over his right breast that read "Sgt. at Arms".
"James McDonald." Damon slowly spoke, walking circles around a man that had his hands bound together as well as his ankles. Brycen stood back, crossing his arms while Mac walked up to the man and lifted him up, holding him tightly by the collar.
"Why the hell are you doing this Damon? I thought we were cool." James panicked, clearly struck by fear at the sight of the bikers. James had light blonde hair that went in all directions, and his blue eyes nearly popped out of his head from the way his face looked. His body shook violently, either out of fear or in need of something.
"We were cool James. We were so very cool!" Damon reaffirmed the man's beliefs. He put a hand on James' shoulder, giving Mac a look. His Sergeant at Arms quickly backed off while Damon pulled James into him roughly. He had him in a headlock at this point, while James struggled to break free.
"Please Damon! Let me go!" James begged, his face slowly turning red from the struggle to break free. Mac watched on as if nothing was wrong, but Brycen could tell Damon would go the extra mile.
"You were our main buyer, and our connection to the streets James. Who did you leave us for?" Damon asked, tightening his grip. James struggled to speak at this point, his words becoming gasps for air.
"Damon." Brycen spoke quietly. Damon's piercing gaze quickly landed on Brycen, who raised an eyebrow. The President let go of the addict, continuing to stare down his Vice President. James immediately dropped to his knees, holding his neck as he coughed and took deep breaths.
"Who?" Damon questioned again. He ran a hand through his hair, calming himself down as he paced back and forth behind James.
"The Devil's Tribe." James croaked out. Damon stopped pacing, a confused expression quickly falling over his face. Mac and Brycen looked at each other before looking at Damon. All three were equally confused by the name mentioned.
"Who?" Brycen spoke up, stepping forward as well so his presence was felt. James looked at him, nearly in the fetal position at this point.
"A new MC. Sprouted up recently. They gave me cheaper prices and-"
"Another MC?!" Damon shouted. James quickly became quiet, staring at the floor now as Damon stormed out of the shack. Mac was right behind him while Brycen walked over to James and squatted down to be at eye level with him.
"Remember this James. You go to them for your needs and Damon won't take it easy next time." Brycen warned him. James simply nodded his head. A pat on the shoulder caused James to flinch, and that was all Brycen needed to see. He smirked as he stood up, leaving the shack to see Damon cursing and screaming to himself off to the side of the shack.
"We haven't had competition in forever." Mac said.
"I can't wait." Trigger said, smiling widely as he looked at the others.
"The two of you head back to the clubhouse. I'll calm him down." Brycen ordered. The two nodded, speaking with each other about what competition meant for business. Trigger and Mac got on their motorcycles, revved the engines, and quickly rode off.
"This is our damn turf. Nobody is gonna step on my shoes, spit in my face, and get away with it." Damon spoke loudly as Brycen walked over to him. The two looked at each other, which quickly brought Damon out of his rage.
"You had no authority to stop me from squeezing the life out of that weasel." Damon said, poking Brycen in the chest.
"I wouldn't have to worry about you squeezing the life out of that weasel if we had never gotten into the drug game Damon." Brycen said. Damon smirked and followed it up with an obnoxious laughing. He threw his head back to emphasize it, and quickly became serious as he looked Brycen in the eyes.
"We aren't doing that shit again. Got me? Our business has been booming. I'm not gonna let some other club get in the way of that either. Or my own VP. So why don't you go and see what you can find about this Devil's Tribe." Damon ordered him. Brycen stared forward as Damon walked past, bumping him with his shoulder as he did.
"I'll send the Butcher and Flynn to meet you on Route 44. Get movin' Polk!" Damon shouted as he slowly got onto his motorcycle. Brycen sighed in frustration as Damon slowly rode off, leaving him by himself.
* * *
Journal Entry
Competition in the drug business is no joke. Especially with Damon. If he has to that man will go on war path to make sure he comes out the only one standing. Sure, the money's good. But the business behind the scenes is bad. Shipments, distribution, protection for the distributors. This competition should be a sign we need to get out while we can.
* * *
Brycen leaned against his bike, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth and flicking a cigarette onto the ground. Two men slowly pulled up on the side of the road where he was, both wearing leather vests. Flynn Marsh was the first off his bike, walking over to Brycen with a big smile on his break.
"Glad to see you alive Brycen. The way Damon was fuming we thought he'd left you in a pile of bones for us to clean up." Flynn joked. He had curly brown hair that was combed backwards, along with a bushy dark brown beard. The patch over his right breast read "Treasurer".
"If he killed Polk, shit would go down real quick." The Butcher spoke up, standing by his bike. Tucker Donovan wasn't a man of many words when inside the clubhouse. When outside of it, especially with Brycen, he said the occasional sentence or two. "Enforcer" was the patch he had over his right breast. His brown hair was in the style of a faded haircut, and his dark brown beard was neatly groomed and trimmed. He had multiple tattoos up and down his arms, along with one on his neck. The tattoo of a flaming a skull on his right arm was the one that always stood out to most people.
"So what's the plan VP? Where do we start looking?" Flynn asked, sliding his hands into his pocket as he looked around the barren land. Brycen rubbed his chin, thinking about what ways they could draw the new MC out.
"I think I got an idea." Brycen told them, looking back and forth at the two before climbing onto his bike. He revved the engine, slowly taking off onto the road with Tucker and Flynn following along on either side of him while staying slightly back.