Gus remained seated at the head of the long stainless steel packing table in the meat packing plant that was currently the temporary clubhouse for the Huns motorcycle gang. Being a nomadic Hells Angels gang that never settled in one location long enough to have their own permanent territory, this particular meat packing plant in the Warrens of Denver was decided to be the place where the vote would take place for Frank Peretti’s request in going Nomad.
The leader of the gang, Augustus “Gus” Delaney had already laid out the reason for the request as everyone knew for the most part why Frank was requesting the release from the Huns. Frank has a larger vision for the Huns that just wasn’t going to happen. The mid-twenties human guy wasn’t anywhere near the top of the pack of those to succeed as the leader of the gang and the frustration of where he hoped the gang would go ate at him in a ferocious manner.
The members of the gang were his brothers, his best friends, and his family. He wanted more than anything to give them a future, goals, hope for something better than wandering aimlessly from one crap-hole slum to the next. He wanted a permanent club-house, he wanted stability, and he wanted a solid way to make money for the club and that was never going to happen with Gus nor even if his V.P. were to take over. Their outlook was just so diametrically opposed to where Frank wanted the club to go.
Frank wasn’t a quitter either and he’d stuck to it for five years trying to find his place and then trying to offer what he had to offer the club. He was always more organized that the others around him, he always wanted to learn from what just happened and wanted to find better ways of doing things. He tended to ask more questions, want to do more recon, want to do things the ‘smart way’, rather than just the same old ‘guns a-blaze’n’ the gang always seemed to go to on default.
After a few years his frustration and questions started to be perceived as questioning the leadership of the gang, and that is a threat in a gang. If you don’t step up and follow as one cohesive organization, then you are a problem.
It had finally come to the point where it was best for the club, for Frank to seek his own path, outside of the motorcycle club (aka: gang).
The ganger sitting to Gus’ right went by the name Hagrid; do to an old children’s book. Hagrid was a mountain of a man nearly seven foot tall and almost 350 lbs. of mass with more hair and beard than three other men combined. Hagrid was a loyal member of the Huns and also a dear friend and brother of Frank. Hagrid had been through the thick of life over the last few years with Frank and the two had proven beyond any question that each were willing to lay down their own life for the other. It was this way with all of the members of the Huns, they were close, and they were family.
Hagrid took a while before rendering his vote on the subject of Frank going nomad. It looked as if he was having a hard time forming the words, stuck deep in his throat and cutting off his breath for some moments. The other men in the room were in no hurry to get him to place his vote, none of them enjoyed what was going on. They needed a unanimous vote to allow a member of the club to go nomad; to leave the gang and head out on his own in the world. It was saying goodbye to a member of the family. Without the protection of the gang, Frank would be vulnerable, weaker without the strength of numbers, no one would have his back. It was scary as hell to send a loved brother out like that.
Hagrid’s voice broke the dead silence in the room as he forced himself to place his vote, “Aye.” His eyes hesitant at first to go to Frank but Frank’s response was a kind and thankful expression of support and Hagrid knew that Frank would always be a brother and a true friend.
Gus kept things flowing, kept it very business-like around the long meat packing plant table in the warehouse as he looked to the next man to place his vote.
Zigymunt was the next man at the table, a wiry bald man in a wheelchair that was electric and amped up, custom made to ride up into the back of a trike for riding with the club. Zigymunt was the member of the gang that seemed to know some contact in nearly every group around the city. He was the hub of all deals and bargins, jobs and favors the Huns took part in. He had a mind for the balances of alliances and enemies and was gifted in finding the clear path through the chaos for the club. Zigymunt also didn’t get as emotional as many others, his response was a direct eye contact with Frank to stare him down briefly and then he spoke clearly, “Aye.”
Gus nodded, acknowledging the second vote as he took out a cigar and lit it, puffing it to life as he waited for the next vote.
Larry was the next around the table, a red headed biker with his hair pulled back in a pony-tail. He was one of the most athletic in the club and could sprint through the alleys and find his way through the Warrens from one side to the other on foot almost as fast as one of the men on a Harley taking the roads.
Larry found his niche as an information gatherer for the club. He seemed to have ears everywhere in the Warrens and was quick to bring the important information to Gus and to Zigymunt so the club could be smart about their choices.
Larry was one of Frank’s favorites of the brothers, he was a thinker, a guy that specialized in recon and gathering information. Larry was the one that Frank leaned on when he was trying to find better (smarter) ways for the club to do things.
Larry gnawed on his lower lip for a few moments, shifted his weight on the stainless steel stool he sat on and then sighed briefly, hating to have Frank leaving them, “Aye.”
Gus nodded his vote and then looked down the table to the next in the club.
Jimmy was the next man in line, a middle aged man that was balding but managed to hold a grey ring of hair around the back of his head and up to his ears. His belly protruded as if he had a few small children smuggled away under his shirt and his neck was thick with extra flesh and he always seemed to be sweating and breathing heavy from walking or simple moving. Jimmy was the drama-queen of the guys. He was the one that always seemed to know the rumors, or start the rumors. He had the skill of getting people to talk to him and make them think that he would help them out or do what he could to assist. In reality, he just pulled out the information to share it later with others to stir up trouble and angst. In short, Jimmy was an ass.
Frank knew Jimmy might be an issue on the vote and so had gone to him the night before the vote and had an honest one-on-one with him. Jimmy of course wanted some dirt, wanted some gossip, wanted some leverage or an angle to better himself at the expense of Frank but Frank had been ready for him.
Zigymunt had pulled Frank aside earlier in the week when the rumor of the vote was floating around and offered him some good information about Jimmy. He also knew that Jimmy would be an issue on the vote and Frank would need to find a way to persuade him to vote aye when the time came.
Frank hated to play these games, he wanted the trust of the brotherhood, the family, he wanted honesty among the men but Jimmy would never have it. It weighed heavily on him that he may have to use Zigymunt’s information to force Jimmy on the vote but when Jimmy was plain he was not going to go nicely into the night, but was doing to be a frick’n ass about it all, Frank was forced.
Frank didn’t have to say much. It was a long lost secret that Jimmy had buried and kept from everyone else. You see, Jimmy was the one that took everyone’s secrets and played them against the others, but his own secrets he held close and hidden. Just the smallest crack of sunlight on the dark secret of Jimmy’s past was all that was needed to assure his vote the following night. All Frank had to do was look him dead-serious in the eye, keep his voice down low and in a deep tone offer simply, “Red River hides the sins until the sand bar shifts.”
Jimmy’s face had gone start white and it looked as if he was going to have a stroke right then and there. Frank wouldn’t know for sure though until the night of the vote if it would work.
Jimmy’s breathing was labored, he’d been sweating since they gathered around the warehouse table for the vote and looked even more uncomfortable than normal. He had been unable to look Frank in the eye up to this point but now that his vote was up he had to speak aloud for all to hear. He looked up and his eyes met Franks and Frank was ready, a dead steel gaze met Jimmy’s and it was as if time stopped a moment and all the men in the room could see a visible steel cable between the two men such was the tension.
Jimmy’s world though balanced on his world of secrets and this one about the Red River would collapse his entire world and he knew it. “Aye” he declared, spite and anger in his voice.
Gus acknowledged Jimmy’s vote with a nod and then looked to the next man at the table.
Tig, the sergeant and right hand man of Gus. Tig was a rough fella with a few years under his belt but he was tough as nails. He’d cross the line so long ago and done so much of the dirty work for the Club that sometimes things were blurred with him on what was and was not socially acceptable in a civilized world. Tig was the one that would see to an assassination and the dirty work when plausible deniability was needed.
Tig released the smoke of the ganja from his lungs he had been holding during Jimmy’s vote and his voice was tight as he spoke in that hesitation of still holding in some of his breath to retain the smoke longer, “Aye, If the kid wants to leave, let him.”
Gun nodded his acknowledgement to Tig’s vote and looked to the next man around the table.
Darryl was the next man around the table to place his vote. Darryl a more rough childhood and reason to lash out at the world around him than most in the club. And that is saying a lot. He’d witnessed his mother being killed by his own father and then endured the foster care system and being sexually abused over the years. It was him killing his foster father that sent him deep into the Warrens to become a prospect in the Huns and eventually into the brotherhood as a full fledge member.
Darryl preferred the use of a crossbow (exploding tips of course) or the use of knives and the like. Nobody forced arguments with Darryl because he had this air of authority about him that demanded respect. Much like a solider back from war, there was something about his gaze that let it plainly known that he had seen the dirty evil of mankind and he had become comfortable there.
Darryl’s gaze burrowed into Frank’s eyes and he read him and took measure of him, “If you ever need me Frank,” his voice didn’t complete the sentence but every man in the room felt the same way, so knew what he meant, “Aye,” he voted.
Gus nodded once to acknowledge the vote and then looked to the next man.
This went on for twenty more votes, all accepting Frank’s request and voting to allow him to leave the Denver chapter of the Hells Angels and to go nomad.
Back to Gus, the leader of the Huns picked up the wooden gavel as he spoke, “It’s unanimous, Frank is approved to go nomad,” and he lowered the gavel slowly, it sounding with a loud wooded KNOCK as it contacted the base and made the vote official.
The room if seen in the astral world would reveal an emotional hurricane of emotions and release of stress as the meeting had finally been concluded.
The men around the table stood and gradually made their way towards Frank for embraces, hand-shakes and good wishes, most of them.
Jimmy was the first to leave the area and head off towards a storage room in the warehouse that was acting as the gangs current housing location.
All of the guys in the gang knew how to turn a good wrench and to fix things on their motorcycles but Frank was one of the best guys that could tweak and fix things on the bikes when needed. His mentor though in mechanics was Ted, a tall human over six foot that spent more time working on the bikes than out riding with the rest of the guys. He’s the one that also took care of the large FedEx repurposed delivery truck that carried the shop tools for the bike work.
As the well wishes and embraces slowed down and men started to filter away from the vote table area, Ted approached Frank with a big friendly smile and gave him a huge hug with rough slaps on the back and then held onto Frank’s shoulders on his armored leather jacket as he spoke, staring directly into his eyes, “I’ve added a few things to your bike; that’s why it’s taken so long. When I heard you were wanting to go nomad, that’s why you’ve been having to ride the other bike for so long. The guys wanted to make sure a couple additions were upgraded on your bike. You’re going to be out there on your own and we want to give you a hand up as much as we can.”
Frank allowed a big smile to develop on his face as he slaps Ted on the shoulder and the two wander off towards where he’d been working on Frank’s bike over the last couple days, “You didn’t need to do that Ted.”
“I know, but you’re still family man. And family takes care of family,” Ted reasoned.
At the bike, Ted pointed out a few things, “Well, you already had the engine upgrades to deal with the weight of the added armor and the speed and acceleration upgrades but we wanted to add a few gadgets to help you out. We added an anti-theft system,” he explains as he hands over a remote and a data chip (owners manual).
Ted went on listing the improvements, “Chameleon paint should come in handy, give you an edge when needed we hope. Also a morphing license plate, a transponder library chip and an oil slick sprayer.”
Frank’s eyes widened as he shook his head slowly, “Ted.. honestly, this is too much.”
Ted nodded slowly, “No.. the guys really wanted to show you how much we cared, none of this was pressured, it is all given freely brother.”
Frank couldn’t but help feel the love and the appreciation of his brothers, it nearly broke him to think about walking away from these guys. It wasn’t easy leaving these men.
Ted offered, “I wanted to add a smuggling secret compartment but I ran out of time. If you can save up the cred, get back with me and I can do the labor for you.”
Frank considers the idea and nods, “That’s a great idea honestly. If I’m going to do more of the gun running I was thinking about, a compartment like that is going to be essential.”
Ted nods and hands over Frank’s keys to his Harley Davidson Scorpion, “When you heading out?”
Frank palms the keys and looks at the bike a moment before looking back to Ted, “I’ll sleep here tonight, and head out in the morning?”
“Have you planned where you’re going to be staying? It’s getting stupid cold out there already and we’re about to head off for the winter,” Ted questions and explains.
Frank nods, “I’ve arranged to do some work as a bouncer at a local joint just as tradeoff for a place to park my bike and a back room to sleep in. I’m keeping life simple right now and taking things slow and careful.”
Ted considers his friends plan and nods slowly, “You be careful as hell Frank, the Warrens are dangerous as shit when the gang, it’s suicidal on your own. I know you know it… but don’t trust anyone.”
Frank nods and gives his dear friend a big hug again, “My tools… can you deliver them to where I’ll be staying? They have a place for me to store them temporarily.”
Ted nods and takes a step back from Frank, “You bet, just give me the address.”
Other General Background Information:
Stats: 24 years old, Male, Human, 6 ft 2 in, 200 lbs, athletic man, dirty blond with ganger tattoos.
Frank’s father had once been in the Huns and had been Frank’s door into the club himself. His father passed away 10 years ago in a shootout with another gang in the Warrens. His mother had died soon after his father had been killed, she’d been found hanging in the clubs current garage one morning, a note saying goodbye. Frank had no children, the unborn child his Old Lady had been carrying died before it could be born. After which, she drifted off into drugs to cope with the loss and a couple years later was found over dosed along a canal beside the highway.
Frank made it through high school easy enough. He never had to study, he was one of those horrible students that goofed off in the back of the room and never even opened his book. Just hearing it once by the teacher was enough to put it into his memory enough to recall it later for a test. Homework he never did but getting all A’s on the tests was enough to get him through school with a low B average. He finished school mostly because of wanting to make his mother happy, but all he wanted was to earn his Cut with the Club and ride with the brothers.
Frank’s code of honor is that of the club. The Club first, the Club second and the Club last. The Club is his life. Now that he has gone nomad, an enormous void is in his life that he will need to fill quickly. He must start a new club soon, and do it right.
About a year ago his two best brothers in the club, Blane and Tony wound up getting killed on a job. It was a simple gun run into the UCAS sector but in the 6th World nothing is simple for long. Frank pressed for more intel on the route and his sources told him something wasn’t right; something was fishy. Gus, leader of the Charter though wouldn’t hear of it and pressed on for an immediate delivery of the guns. No matter what Frank could say or do would sway the leader from his decision.
Frank lost his two best friends on that run and rather than challenge the leader of the club, he decided to apply for either nomad status.
The relationships Frank has developed over the years in Denver are as follows.
Augustus “Gus” Delaney - (Leader of The Huns) A rowdy physical adept that commands respect. He grew up in Denver as a mechanics son, but eventually joined the wrong crowd when the Turks blew up his father's shop. Ever since he's found himself with the 'wrong crowd' and his magical gift became the focus for years of war with the Turks. He's 35 years old, and currently has managed to wedge the Turks right out of Denver (what living ones remain). He's known for his over the shoulder shotgun and brawling for fun. Word is, he might be affiliated with 'the Syndicate' these days, but those rumors aren't substantiated.
The Heather Garden Royals are allies of The Huns.
King Stevens - (Leader of Heather Garden Royals) King Steven. Steven James was once worked for a corporation, they say, maybe Ares even. He got caught in an extraction gone bad and ended up stuck in the Warrens. His shrewd knowledge of the business world proved useful to the former head of the Royals up until Steven had him killed. King Steven is an utterly ruthless businessman who has the ethics of a lawyer crossed with a shark. He rules by intelligence and with a reward system: if you do well by him, you advance and are rewarded. Threaten his bottom line and you'll find out how quickly he'll move to eliminate you.
The Aurora Air Corps are allies of The Huns
Cloudburner (Leader of AAC - Aurora Air Corps) Cloudburner. Called CB by the gang and sir by others, Cloudburner is a shadowrunner who decided to play king in the Warrens. A rigger by trade, this human male has some military training as well, and to hear the stories he was a crack jet pilot before losing a leg in a crash. Armed with a cybernetic replacement and a mean rig, this man can fly just about anything you can put in the air. He runs the gang like a car club crossed with a military unit; discipline matters so people can get paid.
Sarah Thomson - Sarah is a border patrol officer on the UCAS border. Sarah got in a rather heated fight with her husband in the UCAS sector one evening and she decided to "go slumming" on the edge of the Warrens. Being a border patrol officer she thought she could handle herself and the losers in the Warrens easily enough. It's a rather lengthy story but the short of it is that Prospect gave her some help when she needed it and the two have an on-going relationship (flirting.. and letting Prospect once in a while pass through the border check point without too much examination of what he's got in his saddlebags).
William Baxter - CAS Boarder officer. Frank Peretti ran a duffle of handguns through the Warrens into the UCAS sector on the East side of the Warrens for William. Williams was hard up to pay off some gambling debts and Prospect was the guy that helped him out of his problem by transporting some illegal guns for him to turn enough profit to get out of trouble.
