Page 111 of The Ghost of Rage's War

“Fuckin A brother, fucking A!” Arrow murmured and hugged Axel.

Axel clung tightly to the guy who’d taught him everything. Arrow had taught a street kid brotherhood, true manhood, and perseverance.

“I watched,” Arrow said. “Couldn’t be prouder of you three. Shit hit the fan, and you lost your way a little, but you all made it right.”

“We kept going. Rage is our blood,” Norfolk agreed.

“Was a wild ride,” Spike added.

“Why are we here and not with our women?” Axel asked me as I continued to swing.

I smiled. “I thought you might enjoy witnessing what you wrought. What you created.” I jumped down and headed for a small pond. “Come on, you assholes,” I called over my shoulder.

The four strapping men, in their prime of life, followed me. I sat on a dock, and they crowded around.

“Look,” I said.

The water shifted, revealing an old man. He appeared to be suffering in great pain, and his mouth was open in a scream. Faceless images whipped him, and as we observed, his welts healed before our eyes before it all started over again.

“Damn, you’re vindictive,” Axel boomed, touching my shoulder.

“Maybe. But as I’m known for saying, there’s always a balance. He took too many lives. Fury may not have fired the bullet, but his greed and evilness cost a wonderful man his future. A guy Rage honourto this day. Fury was never going to get a happy ending, and I sleep very well at night knowing he paid,” I replied.

“You hated him,” Norfolk said, and I nodded.

“Very much so. He was despicable, there was nothing redeeming about him. Fury was everything that was wrong with life. He embodied the greed, nastiness, jealousy, everything negative of mankind was rolled up in that fiend,” I responded.

The image changed, and we saw Fury as an old man carrying heavy stones on his back from a pile. He moved the pile to one place and then moved it back.

“Nasty,” Spike boomed but grinned.

“How tedious,” Axel boomed. “Are they fuckin’ heavy? Look at the size of that fuckin’ pile.”

“That pile is all his sins, his crimes, his murders, tortures, everything he did bad. Each stone represents one misdeed, one dark action, one cruel intention,” I replied.

“Holy shit,” Arrow exclaimed, looking at the size of the pile.

“Yeah. That’s a lot,” I agreed.

I waved my hand, and the image changed. The four founders of Rage MC’s eyes grew huge.

“Is that…?” Spike gasped.

“This is what you created, a dynasty that will never be forgotten,” I said as they gazed at the Rage MC compound. It was jammed packed with adults, teenagers, and children.

“That’s just Rage?” Arrow asked, astounded.

The image rippled, and I grinned as gasps left their mouths again.

“Yes, and these are their allies and friends. This is the legacy you four began, created, and nurtured. Some of you may not have seen it through. You set the foundation for men like Drake, Apache, Texas, and Fish to take the reins and make it happen. This, gentlemen, is what you dreamed of,” I explained.

The image was at Reading Hall. Hundreds upon hundreds of people milled around. RCPD mixed with Washingtons, who mingled with Rage. Hellfire stood with Unwanted Bastards, and it kept going. All the allies, their spouses, their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren stood together. Just like they had done for nearly four decades.

Rapid City had shown that, in spite of differences, different social groups could work together if inclined to. Those we watched proved it.

“I never expected such… unity,” Arrow whispered as he studied the image.

“You started it, you four. This is all down to you and what you taught your children. They took what you gave them and ran with it,” I said.

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