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Most of the guys belonged to the Black Skulls, while there were some from other MCs and the rest of the guys were just regular patrons; those addicted to placing bets on a good fight.
The warehouse was just that, an abandoned warehouse, with electrical wiring exposed and dim bulbs hanging low from the high ceiling. King, Slade and I weaved through the crowd of men drinking and casually throwing punches at each other. We were headed towards the center of the place, where a giant cage had been set up.
We heard the ding of a bell, a fight was just starting. We could see two young boys, stripped down to their boxer shorts, with no gloves on and no mouth guards, their foreheads already streaming with blood. They were poised to start a fight. One of them wouldn’t stand a chance, and it was clearly going to be the skinny pale one, who was at least a foot shorter than the bronze skinned muscular one.
“Gonna go find the bookie,” Slade said beside us, and I was about to stop him when three skinheads, with tattoos creeping around their necks approached us. I recognized them as Black Skulls immediately, and we stopped in our tracks.
“The fuck are you fuckers doing here?” one of them said, a burnt down joint dangling from the side of his mouth.
“Just here to get a slice of the cake, man,” Slade said, in his usual cheery voice.
“Got the message?” I asked, when they came to a stop in front of us.
“What message?” one of them said, the one with a slick trimmed mustache and a shiny head.
They knew exactly what we were talking about. When we remained silent, Slade still grinning at them, another one stepped towards King.
“You’re telling us that you came all this fucking way to make sure we got your love letter?” he said, glaring into King’s eyes who was glaring back, without a flinch.
“Is it Valentine’s day?” another one quipped and the three of them laughed.
“Stay the fuck off our territory,” I interrupted their laughter, and they stalked towards me now.
“What did you say? Motherfucker!” one of them barked and Slade stepped in between us. Who asked him to? If there were going to be punches thrown, I was in. I’d tasted blood the previous night and I hadn’t had my fill.
“Hey hey hey! Can’t we all just talk this out?” Slade said and King and I closed in on the guys, just like they were trying to do to us. The six of us were gathered together in a huddle.
“Talk about what? Did you bring us chocolates and perfume too?” the joker of their gang said and they laughed again. King and I exchanged looks. I could see it in his eyes. He’d had enough. He was pumped for a fight as well.
“Stay off our territory or there is going to be war,” I repeated myself and their laughter stopped.
“You come into our casa and threaten us?” the mustache guy said, narrowing his eyes at me and I clenched my jaw. As much as I would have liked to sock the guy in the face, it was still just the three of us against a warehouse full of Black Skulls members.
Another ding sounded behind us. The fight was about to start.
“You’re running guns on our territory,” King said.
“You beat up one of our guys”
“Because you’re running guns on our territory. You’re shaking down our businesses. Stay off motherfucker!” I was losing my patience and I charged threateningly towards the mustache guy who charged towards me as well.
“Hey hey hey! We’re just talking remember?” Slade cut in again. I held back. Slade was right. One of us or all of us was going to get killed if we picked a fight with these guys here.
“We don’t give a rat’s ass what you do on your territory,” I said. “Just don’t do it on ours,” and added.
The guys looked at each other and then one of them nodded.
“Message received and it will be conveyed,” he said, referring to the president of their club and I stepped back.
“And if you don’t get the message…” I heard King say and then we all saw him reach for his gun. The three of them reached for theirs and I pushed myself into King.
“Back off brother. We’re outnumbered,” I hissed at him through gritted teeth. He was still eyeballing the three of them behind me. “King. That’s an order. Back down,” I growled and he finally took his hand off his gun.
I turned to the three weasels.
“Enjoy the fight, gentlemen,” I said, sarcastically, but they didn’t seem to catch on.
“Top o’ the morning to you!” Slade said cheerily, in a mock-Irish accent and I gripped King’s arm and started dragging him outside. Slade was following us, looking around eagerly. If given the chance, he would have taken the first opportunity to place bets.
