Page 14 of Romeo
Fucking crazy motherfucker!
But I must be crazier since I’m going to do this.
Of fuckingcourse, I’m going to do this.
The MC is my life.
“Motherfuckers, are you ready? Extend your arm, and don’t fucking cry,” Diablo growls, walking towards us.
He holds the branding stick with a gleam in his eyes, and his lips turn up. He fucking looks evil.
Demon takes the branding stick, looking at us deadpan. Motherfucker looks fucking wicked.
Yeah, motherfuckers are going to brand us like cattle.
The brand is the Satan’s Warriors MC logo. The Satan’s Warriors MC name is in an arch above the wings; the skull is centered on the wings, and two bones are crossed below the skull. The brand is a little more than two inches in diameter; it’s approximately the size of the top of a soda can.
I think that our logo is fucking badass.
It’s fucking going to hurt, and I pray that I don’t pass out. The previous Prez started this when Demon patched in. Prez Demon has continued the ritual. All of the recently patched members had to do this to prove their loyalty to the Satan’s Warriors MC, the Prez.
I think the Prez did this because he was too young to be the Prez and wanted to test the Brothers.
Yeah, we did our Prospecting for a couple of years, like anyone else, and the Brothers were harder on us. No slacking was allowed, and I’m fucking proud.
I wish that my old man could be here; he’s dead.
“Ready,” Demon growls; taking my arm, he presses the damn brand on my forearm for twenty seconds.
I grind my molars, holding still, inhaling deeply, and exhaling. I do feel dizzy, and fuck, I need to remain standing because I’ll be damn if I’m going to do this again.
I stare at the fire to focus, and I can hear Fiend hiss as he gets the brand, but I’m fucking glad that he remained standing.
“Brothers, you make the Satan’s Warriors proud! Here is your Cut,” Demon shouts, handing us our new leather cuts.
“Thanks,” I say, smiling, pulling on my Cut. I’m so fucking proud.
“Thank you,” Fiend says, pulling on his Cut.
“Let’s party,” Demon yells, pumping his fist.
The Brothers roar, stomp their feet, pumping their first, yell out.
“Satan’s Warriors power, riding till we die!”
Of fuckingcourse, we party all night.
My Brother Slash, the MC doctor, took care of our branding burn.
I take a long pull of my beer as I watch Slash apply some ointment on my arm.
I fucking feel her.
She’s always fucking with my psychic; she has me fucked up.
I look up, and I see Cherry standing at the back door of the clubhouse.
I look at her beautiful face; she nods, puckers her full lips, and moves her hand under her lips as if she’s blowing me a kiss.
