Tainted Love(19)

Sitting outside the bar, I wait for Justin Littleton to come out. I never know what these people do, that’s not how it goes. I just get the slip, do the deed, then I get paid. I’ve killed for free, this is child’s play. Lighting up a cigarette, I lean against my bike and wait. Once I see him walk out of the bar and get into his Mercedes, I start up my bike and follow closely behind him to the outskirts of Westbeach and into an industrial zone. I shut off my bike, take my helmet off and glance around at my surroundings. I’ve been here before, I’m sure of it, everything is all too familiar.





Sixteen Years Ago




“Where are we going, Pops?”

My dad had me riding passenger on a run he needed to do. My mom said that the club was clean, but I knew better. I may have been young, but I was not stupid.

“Shut up, Son. This doesn’t happen. Got it?”

I nodded my head, looking out the window at the passing trees. “Yeah, I got it.”

He pulled up to a warehouse and drove in. Looking around and into the large doors, which were open, there were cages everywhere inside. Fighting cages.

“Get out, Son. You have a fight,” he said pulling open his door.

“But why?” I asked, getting out of the car.

He knelt down to my level and I watched the pure evil in his eyes, that same darkness some said they saw in mine.

“This is about something else, Son. The club does not know about this and does not need to know about this. You go in there, fight, and then that’s it. Got it?”

Nodding my head, I followed behind him. My father’s accent was still strong, even though he’d lived in the US since he was a boy.

Walking in, I saw three other big men. One was smoking a cigar with gold teeth. He noticed me and bent down to my level.

“You must be Aidan. Roger here is going to take you to get ready, Son.”

Roger grabbed onto my hand and pulled me toward a room that was to the far right of the cages.

He pushed me in. “Be out in that cage,” he pointed to the center stage, “in five minutes.” Then slammed the door shut.

I ripped off my top and started doing pushups, single hand pushups, plyo pushups, diamond pushups, every single push up you could think of before I started swinging and practicing my jabs. I was not nervous, I never was. That was not out of cockiness, that was out of the certainty of knowing when my fist landed on someone, it could be deadly.

Five minutes passed and I made my way to the ring. I looked around and saw another MC, not the Sinful Souls, though. I was sure that they were our enemies. My dad would never be a traitor, though. He and Uncle Dave had been brothers since they were young boys, he wouldn’t do that to him. I stopped gazing and jumped into the ring. When I saw my opponent come in, my body automatically became alert. This man was in his twenties—at least. He was all muscle and standing at around six foot tall. I was big for my age, but this man was a fully-grown adult. I looked to my dad, and he nodded his head. Instantly, I fucking hated him. The ref came to the middle of the cage.

“You know the rules folks. There’s no tapping out, and the only way you leave this cage is in a body bag.”

He threw his hands down. “Fight.” He quickly made his escape outside of the cage.

A fucking deathmatch? That was what he was putting me into with a grown ass man? Even for him, that was an all-time low. I pulled my head up to the man just as his fist connected with my jaw, throwing me back against the cage. The pain that I felt on my jaw was excruciating. This was why I didn’t let people come close enough to hit me. But that was a blind shot, and I now knew that this man was a coward. Standing up just as he was walking over to me, he swung his right hook again and I automatically realized that he didn’t use his left hand as much as his right.

Blocking his swing with my right hand, I pounded his face with my left. I’m ambidextrous, my left hook was just as lethal as my right. He fell back onto his back and I jumped on him, pounding his face, putting force into each blow. Each time my fist connected with his face I felt a bone crunch. There was blood pouring out all over the place, all over my face and hands, so much that I could taste the metallic-like substance in my mouth. I saw the ref get into the cage, and in the heat of the moment, I grasped his head and twisted it with such force until I hear that snap sound and I knew he was dead. The crowd went deathly quiet. I got up breathing heavily with blood all over my skin. Looking over to my dad, who had excitement gleaming in his eyes, I just stared.

I pointed at him. “We are done, and this is done.”

Then I walked out of the cage hearing the commentator yell through the microphone, “That my dear friends, is Ade ‘The Executioner’ Nixon.” I continued walking back to the room. That was the first time I’d killed someone. It both excited and frightened me all at the same time. However, it only frightened me because I liked it. And that was how the Executioner was born.