Cocky Biker(19)

Rooms on my left are closed and quiet. I know he’s on the upper floor, where he believes he deserves to be. I’m going to send him underground, back to hell where his vacant soul belongs.





Jett





The plan is simple. We park the bikes far enough away that our arrival isn’t broadcasted. We train when we aren’t on a mission. We’ve got guns, but we usually use our hands. The Ciphers don’t fuck around with shit like this.

We’re amped and ready.

“Holy shit,” Tonk mutters under his breath as he catches sight of the mansion. It’s something out of a fucking magazine for the wealthy and fucked up. Darker than most on the street. Foreboding as hell.

“Your heart pumping as hard as mine is?” Honey Badger growls.

I reply, “Can’t wait,” with my eyes on the prize.

Fuse and I exchange a look, too. We’re all waiting for Scratch to give the word since it’s his job.

He’s locked and loaded. “Fuckin’ cameras.”

Scanning, I spot ‘em in the corners plus one pointed at anyone coming up the u-shaped driveway. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” I ask Scratch.

From the corner of his eyes he looks at me, and nods real slow like. His steady gaze rakes over each of us before he snarls, “Let’s do it.”

Turning on his heel he heads back the way we came, me on his tail.

The others didn’t catch on, but they trust.

At the bikes, Scratch tells them, “Fuck low profiles.”

Their eyes gleam with instant comprehension.

Honey Badger smirks, “Give me an explosion over a whisper any day.”

Fuse grins and Tonk nods he’s ready to go.

In seconds we’re on the hogs, guns stuck in our belts, helmets still latched to the rides. With the wind in our hair we roar into action, revving the beasts with everything they’ve got. Shattering the silence we create a big scene, tearing up the driveway right in full view.

Security lights come to life. Some idiot helps us out by opening the front door as we sprint up the steps, surprised and not ready for this shit.

Honey Badger earns his name yet again by smacking the guy’s rifle into the air. The gun goes off.

None of us flinch.

He gives him a swift uppercut punch with his other hand, then using the gun to sucker-punch the fuck in the gut.

One after the other we explode into the mansion, running fast, anticipating a lot more men and a lot more bullets.

I take down a couple guys in black.

My brothers fight at least that many, each.

I hear a shout and look over my shoulder in time to dodge a bullet aimed at my fuckin’ head.

I punch the guy senseless.

This goes on until it’s quiet.

I scan the wreckage and discover Fuse on the floor, out, blood all over him.

Scratch, panting, sees him at the same time I do.

We rush over to find our friend shot in the shoulder and his nose bloodied up and broken.

Honey Badger is in a room to our left, punching the ever livin’ shit out of someone.

Scratch checks Fuse’s pulse and slaps his face. “He’s not gonna die from a shoulder wound. Fuse! Wake up!”

Groaning, he blinks awake in agony. “FUCK! DON’T SLAP MY FUCKING NOSE!”

“You got shot. You alright?”

“Yeah,” he rasps, looking at me like he can’t believe he went down.

“We won,” I tell him.

Tonk appears from another room down the foyer. “You’re never gonna believe this.”

“Stay here.” Scratch and I rise up to follow our youngest Cipher. Neither of us likes the look on his face.

Are we too late?

“Honey Badger!” Scratch calls into the room where the punches are still comin.' They stop.

“Yeah?”

“Give it a rest.”

He appears and follows us. “Motherfucker called me fat.”

Cracking my right shoulder back into place, I grin, “Well, he said that to the wrong guy.”

“Damn straight,” he mutters, still pissed.

With his eyes dead, Tonk growls, “In here.”





Jett





We walk inside and freeze at the nauseating sight that awaits us. This room was originally several rooms before walls were torn down to make it one large cell. There are no windows. Beds line both sides. A single bathroom is lit at the far end, the door open. Other small lamps light up somewhere around forty trembling women huddled in groups, all with bellies.

In horror and loud enough for everyone to hear, Honey Badger says, “They’re all pregnant!”

Scratch grabs his arm. “Shhhh.”

Our faces are contorted in an attempt to restrain horror, confusion and shock as we realize this is a baby-making factory. My guess is it’s probably for infertile women who want to adopt, and who will never know where their children really came from.