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Nomad

---

Prologue:

May 2022.

Droning alone through the inky night flew "Coneflower", an immaculate Super Constellation. Its polished silver skin glistened like a mirror in the pale blue light of the moon. The curvaceous old Lockheed flew amongst the iceberg like clouds that silently drifted above Indiana in the early morning hour. Its four radial engines that emitted a deep throaty roar spat flickering blue flames from its exhaust stubs. The deep low drone pierced the tranquil calm of the night.

Seated by one of the square windows over the wing, Ronnie and his young son Colt sat at a card table, watching the big radial engines work to drive the faintly shimmering propellers. They could feel the vibrations of the huge pistons hard at work keeping them aloft. The almost empty cabin was filled by the muffled roar of the engines, the propellers droning their mesmerizing radial song. They both looked exhausted, but they couldn't sleep, as they passed the time watching the blue flames flicker from the red hot turbochargers protruding under the gills of the cowling. Father and son both thought about what lay ahead for them, as they traveled to begin their new lives in Ohio, a gambit into the unknown with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

Ronnie sat back into his plush seat and yawned. He rubbed his bloodshot blue eyes. He was a lean red Doberman, with long wavy brown hair that fell past his shoulders, and a thick brown chinstrap beard that formed a trimmed goatee jutting from his chin. He wore a pair of worn black and white sneakers with no socks, blue mesh gym shorts, and a white tanktop over which his leather vest sat, patched with the infamous colors of the Hells Angels. Both his arms were adorned with black and gray sleeves, his tattoos running from his shoulders down to his wrists. His clothes reeked of smoke. Sitting beside him was the few mementos left of his former life back in Chicago; his leather jacket, and a couple photos of his late Dad and girlfriend. Behind him in the cabin sat his motorcycle, his father's Fatboy, lashed up to a chair. Everything else of theirs was gone, lost in a ferocious fire that had destroyed their apartment.

For the past five years, it felt like life was punishing him for some reason. Half a decade of tragedy, setbacks, and financial ruin. Half a decade ago, Ronnie was the lead singer of a band he made with other fellow Angels in their chapter. They had made two albums and was rapidly gaining momentum. He had the girl of his dreams, the son he always wanted, and money flowing in. Success was there. He was at the cusp of fame, being set of life, and all of that came crashing down in 2017, just like the plane that killed their drummer and engineers. Life seemed to have imploded from that day in 2017.

The apartment fire felt like the icing on the cake of bad news. In five years, he lost all of his money, his fame, and one by one, the people he loved. First it was his friend, Eddy Halen, and then his grandfather, Larry Samson. A year after that his girlfriend Misty died, the victim of a drug overdose. And when the pandemic hit, his father, Dave Samson, died from Covid-19. From being the lead singer to a band, Ronnie was reduced to being a short order cook at a biker bar. He worked long hours with very little pay, feeling as though he was one step above homelessness all the time. Now he really had no home to go back to. There was no going back from this gamble he took for himself and his son.

As he drowned in his own misery, a glimmer of hope came in two strangers from Ohio. Having seen him and his friends jam at a park back home, they offered him a job in Ohio as a sound engineer for a music studio. Unsure at first, the fire pushed Ronnie to take up the offer along with the encouragement of his now former boss. Now he and Colt found themselves flying aboard that stranger's private plane, droning east to an uncertain future. Was this going to pay off for him and his son? Was this leap of fate going to be his comeback? Or his doom? Ronnie wasn't sure.

Exhaustion finally overwhelmed the Dober, and his bloodshot eyes finally closed shut. He drifted off to sleep for a while, until the sound of the radials revving down stirred him awake, coupled with the feeling of them starting to bank to the right. Looking out the window, Ronnie scrutinized the dark landscape and saw some dim lights, signaling his arrival to his new hometown, Newark. Rubbing his tired eyes, Ronnie saw Newark as a faintly lit crisscross pattern of orange streetlights that lined the roadways. Turning around for the runway, he saw the neighboring city of Heath. Compared to the concrete and steel metropolis of Chicago, this was a Podunk community, smack dab in the middle of the buckeye state. Ronnie saw the seatbelt light come on, and he made sure a sleeping Colt was strapped in before buckling himself in. He watched as the plane came in with a slight nose down angle for the runway, only to flare in the last seconds. The scenery brightened as the airport lights came into view.

With a slight jolt, the old propliner touched down, and immediately commanded maximum reverse power. Ronnie watched the engines spew bright red flames as the propellers roared in reverse pitch. They quickly bled off speed as he heard the brakes squeak, and relays fire in a slow turn off the runway.

"Coneflower" was guided in by the ground crew, who stood beside the large white hangar that bore the name "BAREV" in bold blue lettering above the hangar doors. As the plane turned to park, an airstair was quickly wheeled over to the rear hatch as one by one, the radials were powered off. Propellers coasted down as the roar of the engines died away.

"Hey little Colty, we made it~" Ronnie said, stirring his son awake. The young Dober opened his blue eyes and blinked some before yawning.

"We're here?"

"Yeah." Ronnie nodded.

As Colt looked out the window at the activity below, Ronnie looked up when he heard the bulkhead door open, revealing the owner of the plane, Rob Barion, a brown and tan wolf-hybrid. Looking serious as usual, Rob walked over to greet Ronnie and his son, just as Varg Eikemo emerged from the aft bulkhead, mid-yawn. He was a burly white Arctic wolf, with long black hair tied into a ponytail with tattooed arms like Ronnie.

"We've made it. We can disembark now." Rob announced.

Grabbing what few mementos he had left from his former life, Ronnie walked with Colt slowly for the aft airstair. As he walked for the exit, ground crew stepped in to fetch the motorcycle.

Emerging through the narrow hatch, Ronnie found the early morning air rather cold. He walked down the slightly shaky airstair to be bathed in the brilliant snow white floodlights that illuminated the tarmac. The airport was very quiet. Off to the distance, the lights of businesses on Hebron road shone, faintly piercing the nighttime. Stars twinkled above in the almost completely clear sky. Colt ran down and stood right beside his Dad, who put an arm around him.

"It's cold!" Colt exclaimed.

"Yeah." Chuckled Ronnie.

"So this is home now?"

"Almost." Ronnie smiled.

Hopping into Rob's bright red Tahoe, Ronnie and Colt rode with Varg, Rob and his husband Joey Paulo, who helped fly "Coneflower". They hopped onto Hebron Road and began the drive back home to the north end of Newark. Ronnie watched the scenery pass by as he fought off exhaustion.

Rob returned back to his home on Karen Parkway. He pulled into the driveway of his tan single story ranch home. There was a couple vehicles parked out front, and all the lights on for them as Rob parked before his carport that led to the garage in the back. Ronnie and Colt hopped out with Varg, who lived next door. Varg promised Ronnie that he would start paperwork for employment during the day after he got some sleep. Ronnie thanked him again as Varg turned to head back home. Rob and Joey welcomed Ronnie and Colt into their warm home, where they were greeted by Rob's adopted son Felix Barion, his husband Tony Alvarez, and Joey's nephew, Alvin Paulo. They came with gifts of new clothes for Ronnie and Colt.

"I don't know how I can ever thank you for this." Ronnie told Rob. "I really don't know how to."

"Don't worry about it." Rob calmly said. "Get yourself cleaned up and get some shut eye. The spare bedroom is downstairs."

After a shower to get the acrid smell of smoke and soot off their bodies, Ronnie and Colt went downstairs to the spare bedroom. Rob had a rather normal looking home for a guy who was very wealthy, a home adorned in warm earth colors. His basement had three bedrooms, and a huge armory which took Ronnie by complete surprise by all the weapons that Rob and Joey owned. Rifles and machine guns that would make a biker blush. It blew his mind.

"Get some shut eye, and we'll start getting things taken care of when you get up." Rob told Ronnie. "School, home, finances, work."

"Thank you, Rob. Good night."

"Good night~"

Ronnie gently closed the door and turned around to stare at the comfy looking bed. Adjusting his fresh blue tanktop and shorts, Ronnie yawned and pushed some of his hair out of his face. Colt, similarly dressed in a red t-shirt and gray shorts, pulled the blanket back and hopped in first. Ronnie turned the light off and the room plunged into darkness, with only the faint light of a nightlight off in the corner. Ronnie sat down and laid out in the bed, and instantly relaxed.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, Colty?"

"Everything's gonna be alright, right?"

"Yeah!" Ronnie assured his son. "Everything's gonna be okay."

"What if it's not?"

"Naw, don't say that lil' man, have faith!" Ronnie responded. "You and me have been through so much the past five years. If we made it through that, we'll make it through this."

Colt smiled. "Okay Dad~"

"Now get some shuteye, Colty. Good night, and I love you."

"I love you too, Dad! Good night!"

"Good night." Smiled Ronnie.

As exhaustion overwhelmed him again, and his tired eyes closed, Ronnie really did hope for a miracle. It really was "all or nothing" now. He had once put his fate in the record label that had destroyed his hopes and dreams. Now he put his fate in the hands of a stranger who believed in him. He sure hoped he was right.

Ronnie fell into a deep spent sleep. He slipped away from his worldly troubles, into his dreams of a better life for him and his son.

---

Nomad

One Year Later.

The mid-day sun shone through a hazy, steel blue sky, high above the city of Akron. The air was warm and dry, and birds chirped in the trees that were lush with greenery after a long winter slumber. It was a warm middle of May for the buckeye state, a perfect opportunity to do some spring cleaning for the clubhouse.

Standing on a ladder armed with a roller and a paint tray filled with bright red paint, Ronnie rolled some paint onto his roller and applied it to the trim of the Akron clubhouse of the Hells Angels. Nestled into a quiet neighborhood with streets lined with trees, the little single story house with a sharply pitched roof served as the home of the Akron chapter. There was a bustle of activity as bikers worked on cleaning the garden, trimming bushes, and laying mulch down. A grill in the driveway smoked as burgers were cooked for everyone. Kids laughed and played in the lawn, as Colt and some of his friends washed brushes with the aid of the club's president. Ronnie finished up the last section of trim on the roof, before gingerly making his way down to the ground. He looked up to admire his handiwork.

Taking his used roller over to his son, Colt proceeded to wash it and clean the soft wooly material clean of red paint, which stained the material a pinkish color. "Whacha think?" Ronnie asked his son, who looked over to smile at all the bright red. "I like it!" was his response with a grin.

Adjusting his bandana atop his head, Ronnie grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler filled with ice and drinks and some food. He made a burger for his son, and they stood in the shade under the tree and ate with the chapter's president. Leading the Akron chapter was Bruce "Wildhog" Carmichael, an imposing looking black wolf with slicked back gray hair and beard. Piercing blue eyes peered out from his inky black pelt. Fingers adorned with glistening rings held a pop can dripping with condensation as he took a sip from it.

"You know Ron, your son is quite the talented lil' young man." He complimented. "Knows how to clean brushes like a pro! And he's quick to learn how to paint too."

"Yeah!" Colt grinned.

"That's my boy!" Ronnie smiled. "Takes after me~ I used to help my Dad when I was a kid. I was the little assistant. Heh, just wait till you get rocks in your box, Colty!"

"Ha, what the fuck you talkin' about..." snickered the wolf amusingly.

"I was like nine years old and we were at Home Depot, and I thought I could grab the bag of concrete Dad needed, and instead I dropped it and it broke open and covered me in dust. I was hacking and coughing and Dad laughed. 'Now you got rocks in your box like your old man!'" Ronnie laughed with them.

"That's funny!" Colt giggled.

"Before I forget, how's that new Harley treatin' ya? I see you got your old man's Fatboy this time around."

"Waiting on a new ignition system." Chuckled Ronnie.

"Again?"

"Yes again." The Doberman rolled his eyes. "Got that bike maybe three months ago, and it pooped out again on me."

"We were going to the park to see the sunset and it wouldn't start up." Colt shook his head.

"They don't make 'em like they used to." Carmichael shook his head.

"When did Harley ever?" Ronnie chuckled. "Dad's bike is special. I wanted to get another hog so I don't wear the fuck outta Dad's, but fate have it... maybe that's Dad's way of saying to keep on driving it."

"You've taken good care of it all these years."

"And Dad's upgraded that thing so much when he had it. That was his baby. His precious. He bought it right before I was born. ...I miss him a lot."

"Dave was a great fella when I met him years ago. Wonderful guy. A hell of a fighter!"

"So I've heard." Ronnie grinned. "Maybe next time I'll bring the red sled up."

"Heh, lead sled." Carmichael laughed.

"Yeah." Ronnie laughed. "If I can even get it out of the damn dealership... Well Wildhog, it's about two o'clock, and me and Colty here got a long drive back to N'erk~"

"Hey you have a safe drive back there, Ronno." Carmichael concluded as he gave Ronnie and Colt a tight hug. "I'll see you at the next meeting~"

"Will do!"

Ronnie went and helped Colt suit up for the long ride home. Donning his protective wear and helmet, Colt was helped onto the back of Ronnie's Fatboy. Ronnie grabbed his leather vest and threw it over his t-shirt. The shiny black leather was proudly adorned with the colors of the big red machine; the famous "death head" patch and rockers that read "HELLS ANGELS" and "OHIO" in red. Towards the front, Ronnie had some additional patches, a long serving "AFFA" rocker on the right side, and on the left, a new patch, which read "NOMAD", signaling his new position within the club. Ronnie picked Akron as his chapter, but given his distance, he was now a nomad. It replaced "CHICAGO" that once sat in that same spot.

Donning his black helmet and dark goggles, Ronnie hopped onto his Fatboy and fired it up with its deep, throaty growl from the polished chrome exhaust pipes. Waving goodbye to his fellow Angels, Ronnie and Colt took off down the road to begin their journey home. Making their way through the rubber capitol, they hopped onto I-77 to begin heading south for Newark. Merging into very light traffic, Ronnie kept his pace at an easy seventy miles per hour as Colt held onto him. The big Harley growled down the interstate, and people kept their distance from the leather clad biker and his son as they made the long trek home.

---

Newark Ohio was a landscape far removed from the concrete and steel metropolis of Chicago. Living in the shadow of Columbus, Newark, or "N'erk", was a backwater community, the largest city in Licking County. A friend of his called it "the place where hopes and dreams come to die". Ronnie didn't quite sell Newark that short, but it was an "interesting" community to him. It was far quieter than Chicago, with not even half the crime the windy city was blighted with, but it was kind of a dull, sleepy community, full of nosy people who liked to complain about the city. It at least had a nice school district for his son to attend.

Arriving to Newark from the east, Ronnie was greeted by the famous "Longaberger Basket", a giant picnic basket shaped building that was once the corporate headquarters for Longaberger Company, which apparently made woven picnic baskets before going out of business. The unique building was now the recording studio that Ronnie worked at, owned by his boss, Varg Eikemo. Slowing up to the red light on Route 16, Ronnie and Colt made a slight detour to stop at the BP station to refuel. Eyes turned to watch Ronnie pull up to an open pump and hop off to help his son down.

"I gotta use the bathroom!" Colt exclaimed.

"Hey! Why don't you go get some drinks?" Ronnie asked, handing his son a five dollar bill.

"Okay!" grinned the young Dober as he ran inside. Ronnie chuckled at his son's pace and paid at the pump to select premium for his bike. As he squeezed the trigger and began filling the tank up, Ronnie heard the familiar deep roar of a motorcycle. His eyes scanned around to find a cruiser come rolling into the BP off Dayton Road, driven by a guy dressed all in black leathers. He sat atop a very fancy Indian, a dark brown and chrome Scout Bobber with huge chrome exhausts that roared. He parked at the pump opposite of Ronnie's.

The Doberman scanned the mysterious figure, finding no "colors" on him or his bike. But that fancy bike screamed "outlaw" to the dog. The biker stepped off his bike and took his dark tinted helmet off, revealing himself as a red Doberman like Ronnie. He ran a gloved paw through his long locks of black hair that spilled out. Ronnie was impressed.

"Hey man! Awesome bike!" Ronnie complimented.

"Heh, thanks~" the dog smiled in return. "Cool Fatboy you got there too."

"Hey thanks~" Ronnie responded with a smirk. "You, uhh, part of any group?"

"Naw. Just a loner." He responded. "Hells Angel, eh?"

"Yeah~ Akron chapter, formerly Chicago. But I live in Newark."

"Just came into town recently. My old lady moved here for work." He responded. "Name's Ritchie~"

"Ronnie."

"Nice to meet ya. And be safe out there~"

"You too man~" Ronnie waved as he saw Colt come running back up with drinks for them. "Hey thanks lil' man!"

Hitting the road again, Ronnie and Colt made their way back home, in the north end of Newark. Exiting Route 16 at the 11th Street exit and taking it to Granville Street, Ronnie entered his neighborhood on Meadow Drive, entering into the Krebs Addition. It was an older neighborhood, built in the 1950's as Newark expanded. It was a sleepy, quiet community, a mixture of new and old homes after a tornado leveled part of it a decade ago, according to a friend of his. Ronnie and Colt lived in a cozy little cape cod on the corner of Meadow and Moull Street, a little brick home, with a big maple tree providing ample shade in the front yard. Ronnie rumbled up and parked in the gravel space on the side yard. He threw the kickstand down with his boot and hopped off to help Colt down. They quickly made their way inside.

"Let me get caught up on a few things and we'll go grab dinner. How about we do some take out?"

"Sure, Dad!"

"Hey I like that idea." Ronnie chuckled as he took his helmet off and sat it beside his computer desk. Running a paw through his wavy hair, Ronnie stood gazing at his cozy living room. It was hard to imagine how much their lives had changed in the span of a year. At this point last year, Ronnie had just a hundred dollars to his name, living in a rundown apartment, barely keeping their heads above the water. Now he had over a hundred grand in the bank, a cozy home, his dream job, the band back together, and love in his life again with his boyfriend Talon.

Setting his vest on the back of his computer chair, Ronnie walked over to the small table beside the door to set his keys and wallet in their usual place. Above it sat a bunch of family photos hung up for display, a few mementos from his past life. Ronnie always took a moment to glance at his family portraits.

He came from a family of Hells Angels; his late father and grandfather were both lifetime members of the club. Larry Samson, a Korean War veteran, helped found the New York City chapter in the 1960's. He was a lean red Doberman, who in his younger years had long wavy brown hair just like Ronnie's. Ronnie almost looked like a clone of him. On the wall, a beaming photo of him and his late wife, "Big Marge", and their two sons, Lester and David. The photo, slightly faded with age, showed all of them posing in front of their home in Queens, presumably around the mid-seventies. Ronnie's father, Dave Samson, was an imposing black and rust Doberman. On the wall hung a portrait of him taken in the early 2000's, when he became the Chicago chapter's sergeant in arms. Dave always hated that photo of him, a big happy grin on his face, wearing his vest over a charcoal gray sweater with a purple muslin backdrop. "That's the only fucking color they had!!!" Ronnie could still hear his Dad protest. But that was who his father was. He was one of the nicest people Ronnie could think of. It was a shame he didn't make it through the pandemic. He died too young, at fifty-eight, taken by Covid-19.

The photos also reminded Ronnie of all the estrangement in the Samson family. Larry had two brothers and two sisters, but Ronnie never heard much about them. The Samson family was apparently deeply religious, and deeply bothered by Larry's biker lifestyle, largely shunned him. Of Lester and David, they grew up and went completely different paths with their lives. David followed his father's footsteps and became a red and white in the mid-eighties, while Lester chose college and later had a forty year career with Xerox in New York, working on photocopier technology. The brothers were largely estranged from each other until it was too late. Another victim of estrangement was Ronnie's mother, Rhonda Greeves, who left and divorced Dave in 2003. Tired of the biker lifestyle, Rhonda tried to find the proverbial "greener grass", only to end up having life itself beat her down to the ground. Through luck and fate, Ronnie managed to reestablish relationships with his uncle and mother again. On the wall hung their portraits as well; Lester was a red Doberman with short graying hair in his mid-sixties, looking nerdy in his white dress shirt and bowtie, complete with pocket protector stuffed with pens. Rhonda's portrait was from the late eighties. She was then a slender petite red Doberman with a huge hairdo of hair-sprayed in place brown hair that looked bullet proof. It was hard to believe that she would soon turn sixty. Everyone was getting older, Ronnie himself just turning thirty-two.

Eyes wandered down to a picture of his late girlfriend Misty, holding an infant Colt. Ronnie smiled at the picture of her. She was such a promising gal, who's life got cut short by addiction. Misty was a red Dober with light brown hair that was tied back into a ponytail. Colt looked just like her with the same colored hair. Heroin cut her life short at twenty-five. Below that picture was Ronnie's new love of his life, Talon Bradley. Six years older than him, Talon was a big red Dober with tattoo sleeves like himself. In the picture, Talon and his daughter Emily grinned for Ronnie's camera. Ronnie smiled at Talon's sexy looks. He lucked out finding his "big ole' country boy" who helped fill the void in his heart after Misty's death.

His cellphone rang, and the ringtone stirred Ronnie from his reminiscing. Fetching it from his jeans, Ronnie found his boyfriend calling him. "'Sup sexy!" Ronnie greeted.

"Hey babe!" came the masculine voice of Talon. "Uhh, are you and Colty home from Akron?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Wanna come pick me up?" Talon asked, with a very cynical chuckle at the end. "...and can you bring your truck..."

---

Morgan Manor was a wealthy neighborhood that was nestled in the hills that straddled Newark and Granville. Big homes lined the steep curving roads that wound through the wooded hills. The usually calm neighborhood was broken by a nasty crash, an out of control garbage truck, which rolled over at the intersection of Howell and Bryn Mawr Drive. From the hill on Bryn Mawr, tire marks led to trash lying everywhere, and the vehicle carnage in Mrs. Patricia's front yard.

"Look at my fucking yard! Look at it!" screamed Mrs. Patricia, a yellow Labrador. "I had all this landscaping done and your dumbass just slammed right into it!"

The garbage man, a young looking Greyhound, held a napkin to a bloody gash on his forehead. His face was streaked in blood. He stood there looking dazed as the Labrador read him the riot act. Talon stood not far away, the mulch stained Doberman having his tattooed arms crossed as he stared out at his mangled Ram pickup truck, which sat under the garbage truck that rolled over.

"You always take that god damn turn so fast! Didn't I yell at you about this two weeks ago!?" Patricia screamed. "Now look at my fucking yard! Look at Mister Bradley's truck! Look at this whole mess!"

"Will you stop yelling!" the Greyhound snapped back.

"I'm not the one who unleashed fucking trashageddon in my fucking yard!" Patricia screamed as she slapped the Greyhound. He stumbled and fell to the ground and strained to pick himself back up as Talon gently restrained his customer.

"C'mon easy~ Let's not get the cops even more involved..."

"Heh, if they even show up..." Patricia scoffed. "This fucking town is next to useless."

As Talon answered a phone call from his insurance agent, Ronnie pulled up in his 2006 Silverado. The big red one ton rumbled up with the chug of its turbodiesel under the hood. Ronnie looked surprised at the huge mess as he parked on the curb. Pushing the column shifter into park, Ronnie hopped out with Colt. They were immediately greeted by the awful stench of rotting garbage all through the air.

"What the hell did you do?" Ronnie teased Talon as he put an arm around his burly boyfriend, who gave him a kiss. Talon was slightly taller than Ronnie, and his fur was a few shades darker. His goatee was auburn color, with a hint of gray at the roots, and his short auburn hair was covered by his sweat soaked baseball cap. Dark green eyes peered out beneath his polarized shades.

"Well Ronnie babe, I seem to have found myself in a shitty situation..." Talon chuckled. "Last home to mow and trim, on a Saturday when I was hoping to have the day off... and then right as I am finishing up, I hear a very loud BOOM! And here we are."

"I'd say..." Ronnie chuckled as he shook his head. "Man... your truck is fucked."

"In so many words, yes."

"I brought you the paper pad!" Colt exclaimed to Talon. He held up a yellow legal pad and a blue felt pen.

"Perfect! Thank you lil' man!" Talon exclaimed as he patted Colt on the back. Ronnie chuckled as he watched Talon write out his invoice for the customer manually. Walking over with Colt, they stood and examined what was left of Talon's pickup truck. His big black Ram 3500 was completely crushed beneath the garbage truck. It was a total loss, and so was the garbage truck.

"Someone's in big trouble~" Colt pointed.

"Oh yeah, son. That's an understatement." Ronnie chuckled. He walked back over to be with Talon, as they all waited for the police to show up.

Talon checked the time on his phone. "This is unfucking believable... the coppers are taking forever..."

"They seem to only respond fast to dumb shit." Ronnie chuckled.

"That's Licking County for ya... oh there they are..." Talon muttered as he pointed to a Granville cruiser showing up. "Oh god, here comes the keystone cops~"

Ronnie and Colt patiently stood as they watched Talon talk to the police officer. An ambulance soon arrived and the driver was treated for his head injury. The road was soon cordoned off and a tow truck was called. Talon carried some of his surviving tools with Ronnie's help and stowed them in the bed of his Silverado. His phone rang again, and Talon excused himself to go answer it, leaving Ronnie to finish strapping down his riding mower.

"'Scuse me Mister Hells Angel..." came the Granville cop. Ronnie glanced up to see a German Shepherd approach, wearing a gray police officer's uniform, complete with black clip-on tie. He flipped through a notepad, armed with a ballpoint. "I got a couple questions to ask you."

"Uhh, okay?"

"What were you doing yesterday around one o'clock?" the cop asked, looking suspicious of the Doberman who stood up in his truck bed.

"I was at a school function for my son."

"Uh-huh." He responded while jotting it down. "What is your name."

"Ronald David Samson. You want my blood type too?" Ronnie laughed as he jumped down to slam the tailgate shut. As he walked by, the cop grabbed him by the arm and stopped him.

"This ain't some joke, boy. Someone got assaulted in a road rage incident. The perpetrator was described as a fella with long hair, dressed in leathers, who looked like a biker... an outlaw biker..."

"If you don't trust me, you're more than welcome to call the school and inquire about it. I was present for my son's music class performance."

"I also have some questions about your tattoo sleeves..." the cop pointed with his pen. "And I seek permission to search your vehicle."

"Do you have a warrant?"

"Well, no?"

"Then you can kiss my ass..." Ronnie glared. He turned and walked away, giving the cop the cold shoulder as he returned to Talon. The German Shepherd stood and ground his teeth at the snub.

"Fuckin' nerve of these pigs..." Ronnie rolled his eyes as he thought to himself. He walked over to see Talon with a big grin on his face as he put his phone down.

"Wanna drive me over to ole' Rusty's dealership?" grinned Talon excitedly.

"Oh boy..." Ronnie chuckled. "You're gonna get a new truck when this one isn't even scraped up yet?"

"That's right!" laughed his boyfriend. "My insurance agent said that my truck looks more fucked up than a child actor from Diff'rent Strokes! So guess who's got the replacement money now!"

"Oh boy..." Ronnie laughed.

"Plus the trash company said they'll pay the rest too. I talked to the owner of the company." Talon added.

"You do have a way with words, Talon~"

"It's that big dick energy, bro!" he teased with a big grin as he kissed the side of Ronnie's muzzle.

Ronnie just laughed and shook his head. He loved Talon to death.

---

The clock struck seven o'clock as the evening sun hung low on the western horizon, painting the sky and landscape in shades of orange and red. Having dropped his tools and paperwork back home in the little village of Hanover, Talon took Ronnie and Colt back home to spend the weekend with them. Departing the local pizzeria, Ronnie held onto dinner as he rode in the big roomy crew cab of Talon's new truck, a just barely two year old GMC one ton, the long-bed Sierra sporting a metallic gray paintjob with its big blunt chrome nose and glaring headlights. The turbo spooled up and hissed as Talon commanded power from the Duramax to climb the hills around Hanover. Ronnie rode in the front seat next to his boyfriend, while in the backseat, Colt and Emily sat together, playing a game on Talon's tablet.

"What are the odds that you would get yourself such a nice ass truck so quickly." Ronnie chuckled.

"When you're good, you're good~" grinned his boyfriend with a laugh. "I am kind of lucky because this just got on the lot apparently today."

"Great timing."

"I say! That Ram was nice, but in three years, I've had to replace the ignition system twice, and the transmission once."

"I guess when they say Mopar, they really mean mo' parts!" Ronnie snorted.

Talon chuckled. "Yeah, no shit. You'll love what the owner of the sanitation company had to say to me... he asked if I could just 'buff it out'. Like yeah, lemme just un-crush it! My insurance agent saw the photo I sent to him and he said that was an instant write off. 'Jesus Christ, your truck's more messed up than a child actor from Diff'rent Strokes!' Ha!"

Ronnie just shook his head as he chuckled along. "You'll love what the cop had to say to me..."

"Oh boy... I saw you talking to him, and he looked all serious and stuffy."

"He wanted to ask me these questions about what I was doing Friday... my tattoo sleeves... wanted to investigate my truck..."

"What?" Talon remarked, looking puzzled. "Why?"

"I have no idea! He was really an ass about it. So I told him to 'kiss my ass'."

"Maybe later, babe~" Talon quipped with a sly grin.

Ronnie shook his head and smirked. "Oh god, Talon."

"Cops are frickin' useless half the time. Waste of tax paying money." Talon grumbled. "Just like Licking County! Useless and a waste of tax paying money!"

"Heh, come to Chicago." Ronnie joked. "Eh, I'm used to police harassment. Everyone thinks because I wear these colors on my vest, that I'm up to no good. It's stupid."

"You should yell discrimination!" Talon exclaimed.

"Oh god!" Ronnie laughed. "I don't want to go down that rabbit hole!"

"Works for everything else!" Talon grinned. "But that's kind of the cheap way out..."

"...And I'm not a minority... well... kinda. You know what I mean!"

"Yeah I get it." Talon chuckled. "So how was Akron?"

"Great!" Colt shouted from the back seat. "It was really fun!"

"What Colty said." Ronnie smiled. "I helped do some spring cleaning at the clubhouse, and painted the trim to the roof."

"Handyman, Ron, reporting for duty." Chuckled his boyfriend with a smile.

"And helped make a nice barbeque for the other guys and some visitors. So it was a nice little trip up to Akron."

"That's good!"

---

After a nice dinner and a movie with their kids, Ronnie and Talon put their son and daughter to bed and retired for the night. Ronnie stepped into his room and closed the door. His square bedroom was painted a very calm shade of blue, and portraits of motorcycles hung up on the walls. He proceeded to strip out of his shirt and shorts to stand in his boxers and black tanktop that clung to his tattooed body. Talon stripped out of his clothes to stand just in his blue and white briefs. Ronnie folded his clothes and put them in the hamper over in the corner.

"I used to make fun of my Dad going to bed early, but now I see why~" Ronnie remarked as he stretched and went to go brush his teeth in his little attached bathroom.

"Getting old kinda sucks!" Talon chuckled as he scratched his neatly tattooed chest piece. "One minute I turned twenty, now I'm looking at forty soon..."

"Tell me about it..." Ronnie gurgled as he brushed his teeth and spat the foam out in the toilet. Rinsing his mouth out with some mouthwash, Ronnie gave the bathroom over to Talon as he jumped into bed and stretched out. Talon soon joined him a few minutes later.

Ronnie took a moment to smile at his boyfriend and appreciate him. He gently caressed Talon's face and his arm before getting a warm kiss from him. "God you're, hot~"

"Big dick energy!" Talon pointed out with a teasing smile.

"Yes, I know~ You make my ass hurt." Ronnie chuckled.

"You're learning. It'll get better~ But man that shit's tight." Talon teased. "You're a lot of fun Ronno. I didn't think I'd land a hot biker stud for a boyfriend."

"Well what can I say?" Ronnie smiled. "I didn't think my life would be like this a year ago around this time. It's crazy how much things have turned around. I was thinking at one point that my life was going to just be a complete clusterfuck forever."

"Things get better in time." Talon nodded. "For a while there, after what happened with my ex... I thought my whole life was fucked up too. But sometimes things have a way of working themselves out."

"I lucked out having the right people find me."

"You did~"

"Then I found you."

"Yeah!" Talon smiled.

"I didn't think I'd ever find anyone after Misty..." Ronnie recalled. "Misty was really special. She was someone I really loved, and I really wished I could have helped her... but how can you help someone who never sees the problem that they have?"

"A shame." Talon shook his head.

"Misty was the only girl I knew who wasn't fucking loco. You know you're not like other relationships I've had, Talon. You're so calm, you're so laid back and easy going. You're not like the bitchy gay guys who like just girly shit, or a couple of past girlfriends who were loco- I had one chick who was extremely possessive, constantly calling me, asking where I was, any argument had her threatening to cut herself... or another chick who wanted to control everything, yada, yada. You're just not like that, Talon."

Talon smiled at the compliment. "Ronnie, that's 'cause I'm not a girl..."

Ronnie gave Talon a sarcastic gaze. "Gee, thanks for clarifying! I never would have fuckin' known had you not clarified that!"

"Hey I'm just saying!" the Doberman grinned. "In an era where people have no gender, or multiple genders, or identify as a ham sandwich."

"Get the fuck outta here!" Ronnie laughed. "You ass..."

"I'm your ass!" Talon laughed as he gave Ronnie another kiss.

"God, I love you." Ronnie snickered through his smile.

"Same to you. Love you too, stud." Talon smiled in return.

"Good night." Ronnie said as he reached over to turn the lamp off. As he laid down and got himself comfy, he heard Talon rip a huge fart in his bed, followed by him laughing. "Dude! Stop ripping these fucking huge wet ass farts in my bed!"

"I can't help it!"

"It's always in my fucking bed! I just put new sheets on it, and here you are putting your fucking fart particles in it!"

Talon was too choked up in laughter to respond.

"And Jesus Christ that stinks too! I'mma light your fuckin' farts on fire!"

"Oh man that was a pretty good one."

"Whatever you say..."

"Night, babe~"

"Night."

---

Keeping an eye on the clock, Ronnie made a final adjustment to the sliders in front of him on the mixing console. Adjusting some settings and volume levels to the tracks, he sat back and hit play to hear the playback of an advertisement jingle for Firestone play. It was a cheery song promoting a national tire sale at Firestone retailers. Ronnie liked the sound of the mix, and saved it to the workstation. He grabbed the finished file, along with another take he had created, and sent them to the customer via an e-mail link.

As he hit send, he got a notification of an incoming message from his friend Adam. His bandmate and fellow red and white, Adam Stein was the sound engineer at Varg's Chicago studio that he opened up late last year. Ronnie leaned forward in his seat to read the message, which was inquiring about the jingle he was making. Ronnie took a few minutes writing back and forth with Adam about things.

[Ron: I'm looking forward to having Don and Todd spend a few weeks with me for their job training at the airport.]

[Adam: That's what they were telling me. Two weeks in Newark to train for their new jobs.]

[Ron: Everyone's moving up in life! Heh.]

[Adam: Kills and Colt got it made at Ford, heh, heh.]

[Ron: Heh, exactly. Union fucks. Ha.]

[Adam: Yeah exactly.]

[Ron: You guys gotta make time and come and all hang out here again!]

[Adam: Yeah! I'm down if we can get Kills and Colt!]

[Ron: Do it!]

[Adam: Any plans after work?]

[Ron: Leaving early to go show my bike off at Colty's school show and tell project for the end of the year.]

[Adam: "Aww, that's cute.]

[Ron: Yessir! Well I gotta hop off here and finish up and I'll message you when I get home.]

[Adam: Ok.]

Ronnie finished up his work at the workstation as the clock struck almost two o'clock. The confirmation e-mail he was waiting for finally came in at the last minute, and Ronnie quickly sent the chosen version of the jingle over to Barev Video, who was doing the commercial segment. Grabbing his vest, he quickly threw it on and went to clock out for the day.

Exiting the studio, Ronnie walked down the hallway and waved at Varg who passed by him with some paperwork in his grip. Getting in the elevator, he rode down to the lobby and quickly exited through the big glass doors for the parking lot. Hopping on his beloved Fatboy, Ronnie took off with the throaty roar of his chrome exhausts. He made two right turns and hopped onto Dayton road for the light at the expressway. Waiting his turn, Ronnie got the green arrow and punched it. He roared in a wide turn to begin his way back to north Newark.

Cruising along at sixty, Ronnie followed the flow of traffic. Keeping his head on a swivel, he kept watch of all the vehicles near him as he saw a slow car approach, a typical crusty looking, underpowered van scraping along the highway. Putting his turn signal on, Ronnie punched it and pulled ahead of an SUV in the left lane to merge and pass. Just faintly over the roar of his twin-vee, he heard another roar of a motorcycle approach. Without warning, Ronnie watched as a black leather clad biker blow by him in the breakdown shoulder, a momentary flash of black as his big cruiser roared. Ronnie flipped him off as he recognized the driver as the guy he spoke to recently at the BP, the loner guy and his Indian. He never even looked back. Ronnie just shook his head and continued on his way.

As he cruised through the downtown, Ronnie noticed a low flying helicopter approaching the highway. It was painted dark gray, and its rotors made a distinctive "thump, thump, thump". It stood out to him from the usual helicopters he saw around Newark. Ronnie observed it for a second, before finding his exit coming up. He took the 11th Street exit and made a right to head to Granville Street. Arriving at John Clem Elementary School, Ronnie parked and checked himself in, just in time for the show and tell that was outside on the playground.

On the blacktop of the playground, Colt's class stood looking excited for Colt's show and tell project. The young Dober beamed with excitement as he stood with his teacher, Mrs. Johnson. With a mighty roar, Ronnie came around the corner and all the kids looked excited at Colt's Dad with his throaty Fatboy. He rumbled up to a stop and threw the kickstand down, before hopping off.

"Hi Dad!" Colt grinned.

"Hey, Colty!" Ronnie greeted.

"So this is my show and tell project! Dad's bike!" Colt exclaimed.

"So Colt, why don't you tell us a bit more about it?" smiled his teacher.

Ronnie stood by his bike and watched proudly as Colt talked about the black and chrome Fatboy. He explained to his classmates that it was once his grandfather's motorcycle, and told them all the modifications that were done to it over the years. Even Ronnie was impressed hearing about what his father did to it. The class was impressed. After Colt finished his presentation, Ronnie offered to let everyone sit on his bike and get a photo taken with him, an offer that was not refused by anyone. Excited kids lined up to talk to Ronnie and pose on his polished bike, as Mrs. Johnson took pictures with her digital camera. Ronnie posed and smiled for the camera with all of Colt's classmates.

He was a natural with kids; Ronnie always felt that kids liked him because he was just honest about himself and never put a façade on for others. Kids came natural to him because of being a father. All the kids talked to him and told him how cool his motorcycle was, while Ronnie pointed out little neat features and told stories about all the cross country trips he and his father made over the years. As he talked to them, his ears picked up the faint "thump, thump, thump" of a helicopter's rotors. His eyes glanced up to see that anonymous gray helicopter emerge from the canopy of a tall tree. It flew slowly, turning and practically stopping near the playground. Ronnie fumbled his brow at what it was doing. It reminded him of Chicago PD helicopters, the narcotics detectives and vice departments looking to pinch drug dealers from the sky above. The helicopter hovered for a few minutes before departing away, its deep rotor noise fading away. Soon the final bell rang, and everyone cheered in excitement.

Colt ran in, grabbed his bag, jacket and helmet, and hopped aboard the back of the motorcycle. Waving goodbye to his friends and other students, he left in style on the roaring Fatboy as he held onto his father for the short hop home practically one block over.

---

Throwing the back door open, Colt burst inside as Ronnie followed in after him. Doffing his helmet, Ronnie heard the phone ringing and he ran over to answer it on his desk. His boots loudly stomped against the wooden floor.

"Ron Samson!" he greeted a bit winded.

"Ron! This is Craig over here at Harley-Davidson, Pickerington. Hope I'm calling you at a right time?"

"Yeah, it's fine. What's up?"

"Well I just talked to the service technician about your Fatboy in the shop, and I got some unfortunate news that the electrical system is all messed up."

"Oh man..."

"The parts are on backorder, so we're looking at a couple weeks minimal."

"Ah, okay."

"I apologize for the inconvenience, Ron."

"That's okay. I know shit happens with these new Harley's. Thank god for Dad's bike."

"I'll keep you posted with updates, Ron."

"Thanks, Craig. I appreciate it." Ronnie concluded as he took his vest off and hung it on the chair. As the call came to an end, Ronnie heard a very faint *click*, as if someone had hung up before the call. He placed the phone back on the receiver as he sat down at his desk. Opening Telegram up, he saw some new messages from his friends in Chicago, with two messages from Don and Todd, who were going to stay with him as they job trained in Newark for their new careers with Barev's Centoh Intermodal. As he typed replies to them, the phone rang again. He reached over to press the speakerphone button at the sight of his Mom calling him. As the call engaged, he heard the faint *click* again.

"Hi Mom!" greeted Ronnie with a smile.

"Hi, Ronnie!" came the happy but tired voice of his mom, Rhonda. "Hope I'm calling at the right time?"

"I just got home with Colty~"

"Hi Grandma!" Colt yelled happily.

"Hi Colty! How are you?"

"Fine!" the young Dober giggled.

"Things are okay here." Ronnie chuckled with a smile. "Colty gave a great presentation about Dad's bike to the class for show and tell, and everyone loved it."

"Everyone loved that motorcycle." Rhonda recalled with a laugh. "That was like your brother. Dave loved that bike like it was his son."

"Yeah. How's Grandma?"

Rhonda sighed a bit.

"That bad?"

"Well if there's a stage between fucked, and chaos, that'd be it for Mom..." Rhonda admitted. "I... I don't think Mom is gonna be around much longer to be honest with you."

"From what you're telling me, I can see that, yeah."

"Well her memory is about gone, and I'm pretty much the only person she can recognize now. She has all these health issues, and now with a broken hip... I don't see her lasting more than a couple months..."

"Mom I'm sorry to hear that."

"I mean, it is what it is. Honestly I'd wish she'd just go in one piece... verses this trajectory..." Rhonda sighed quietly. "After Mom is gone, I'd like to... maybe get out of here... get out of New Jersey and try and live closer to you?"

"Well I can see what I can do on my end." Ronnie offered.

"God, how the fuck am I gonna do this... "Rhonda grumbled. As Rhonda griped about her job and her low wages and long hours, Ronnie typed another message to Todd and Don, discussing plans about hanging out in the two weeks they'll be staying. Ronnie assured his Mom that he would try and help her move closer and land another career. Ronnie put his hopes on his friend who saved him to come through again to help him.

"Everything will be okay~ I mean, hah, if you're already going through hell, just keep going!"

---

Five-thirty on the dot, the alarm rang, awakening Ronnie from his slumber. Drowsy eyes opened and a tattooed arm swung over and hit the off button on the alarm clock. Rising up out of bed, Ronnie yawned and stretched, his long hair a mess around his face. He ran a paw through his messy locks and smacked his lips together. Getting up out of bed, he made his way to the bathroom for his morning shower to wake up and get ready for the day.

Getting dressed in his usual attire of a t-shirt and shorts, Ronnie walked into the kitchen to make his son's lunch. As coffee percolated and breakfast cooked, Ronnie packed his son's lunchbox and sat it beside his backpack. Colt took a seat at the table as he played with one of his action figures, and Ronnie served him breakfast, which was a bowl of oatmeal with some apple slices placed on top. Ronnie sat down with his oatmeal and poured a bit of milk in it.

"So what do you have planned at work today?" Colt asked curiously.

"Well I'm going to be discussing some recording with a new band." Ronnie started to explain when he heard the sound of tires screeching outside. It really caught his attention. Fumbling his brow, Ronnie got up to investigate out the window. He heard something suspicious and saw a flash of light, like a flashlight in motion. Just as he got to the front door, there was a tremendous explosion, as the front door was kicked open. Hitting Ronnie in the face, he was thrown back into his desk, momentarily stunned as a Swat officer stormed inside.

"SEARCH WARRANT! SEARCH WARRANT!" screamed a bunch of ninja clad officers, dressed completely in black and brandishing submachine guns. As Ronnie stood up from being hit into the desk, his nose bleeding, he got punched in the face by a Swat officer. Stumbling, another officer struck him across the head with the butt of his shotgun. Ronnie fell to the floor and had a boot pressed to his back. He saw Colt screaming as an officer apprehended him.

A dozen swat officers stormed inside, followed by a clutch of US Marshalls and a bunch of FBI agents and Newark Police officers. Anyone with a badge imaginable was soon inside his home, securing everything.

"What the fuck is the meaning of this!?" Ronnie shouted over Colt's screams, only to be kicked in the side to shut up.

"Mister Samson! Good morning!"

Ronnie recognized that voice. Turning his head, he saw Special Agent Gary Dove, Ohio's resident agent from the Cincinnati branch appearing inside. With a million dollar grin of sheer confidence, the middle-aged gray wolf with his brown hair slicked back atop his head, clutched an M4 slung around his gray polo shirt.

"What the fuck is doing on here!?" Ronnie screamed.

"You are being searched for weapons and drugs, per a search warrant authorized." Dove explained. His voice was stone cold. "You are a target in a federal probe in drug and weapons smuggling."

"WHAT!?"

"You heard me."

Ronnie was lifted off the ground and quickly handcuffed. His nose bled heavily, staining his face red with blood.

"Casper, get me the first aid kit, please." Dove said calmly. "And bring CPS in for the kid."

"Will do."

Dove treated Ronnie's bloody nose as he helplessly watched his home get torn apart by federal agents. A terrified Colt was taken by an officer and placed in the guidance of a CPS agent of Licking County. Ronnie was handcuffed and hauled outside, where he saw a large white vehicle, like a giant semi-truck, arrive, with a forensics unit. He was completely dumbfounded at what was going on.

For the next five hours, his home was torn apart and searched. Every nook and cranny was examined for any illegal contraband and weapons. Ronnie was placed in the trailer of the semi truck, teeming with equipment and investigators, as he was questioned for hours by Newark Police, the US Marshalls, the FBI, the Sheriff's Department. He was surprised the military didn't question him. He watched helplessly as his computer was brought out to be examined, his phone logs, even the two rifles that he owned, an immaculate M1 Garand from the Second World War, and a semi-automatic clone of an AK-103. The FBI tore them down, and examined every last part, down to documenting the serial numbers. For hours, they grilled him with endless questions about various crimes in Newark and Columbus. None of it make sense to him and he denied all wrongdoing. The feds seemed skeptical. They even showed grainy photographs of someone that supposedly was him. Even Colt was questioned, the overwhelmed kid frightened and scared as the ominous agents towered over him asking questions ruthlessly.

But try as they might, nothing that they accused Ronnie of could stick, for a complete lack of evidence. Five hours of tearing his house apart found nothing that they were looking for. All the accusations of crimes that he supposedly did fell apart for his successful alibi. A drug deal? He was at a school event with his son. An assault on a Wednesday? He was with his boyfriend. Threatening someone with a knife? He was having dinner with his neighbors. Even his computer turned up zero pornography, nothing salacious they could humiliate him with. In the end, Ronnie was let go, and a bunch of disappointed police officers, detectives, Marshalls, and FBI agents left to continue on with their day. In all the hubbub of the raid, it was now silent in the neighborhood.

---

Broken glass crinkled beneath his shoes as Ronnie stepped back inside his house with Colt. Looking dazed, a blank stare graced both their faces at the sight of their destroyed living room. The front door held on just barely by a single hinge, stuck into the wall by the doorknob. They ripped up his couch and recliner, and somehow managed to knock the TV on the wall, which fell and broke the screen. His vinyl record collection was strewn all over the floor, and some of the records were broken. The feds had gone as far as punch holes in the wall, as if he was hiding drugs or some contraband in a hiding spot. Walking into the kitchen, Ronnie found the contents of his fridge lying everywhere but inside the fridge. Outside, the contents of his garage were lying in the back yard.

"Dad look what they did to my room..." he heard Colt say sadly. Ronnie walked over to see Colt's room in just as bad of a mess. His toys were strewn everywhere, and Colt picked up one of his favorite G.I Joe's, which broke in half. Big, angry tears welled up in the young Dober's eyes, and he ran over crying to hug his Dad. Ronnie frowned and hugged his son as he sobbed.

"It's okay Colty, it's okay." Ronnie tried to assure. "God... Jesus Christ..." he muttered.

Ronnie was completely dumbfounded at such an outpouring of aggression against him. He was used to cops harassing him for being a biker, but this was a new step, and a step way too far. He wasn't sure if he should be angry, or scared for his son's sake.

Walking back into his living room, Ronnie stood for a moment just feeling his rage bubble up at everything destroyed. He marched over, glass crinkling under his feet, and grabbed his cellphone that sat beside his desktop tower. At least they put that back on the table. Ronnie dialed the number to the first person he knew would immediately help him.

"Rob Barion speaking."

"Rob! It's Ronnie. Jesus fucking Christ, I need your help."

"What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"The feds fucking raided my house and they destroyed everything."

"I'll be right down."

Within twenty minutes, Rob showed up with his best friend, Maverick Tokarev. Their company's security set up a perimeter around his home, and as they stood guard, Rob and Maverick, armed with their anachronistic tube video cameras, recorded all the damage for evidence to Betacam. Ronnie wanted a physical medium to keep for evidence. Everything was documented to tape.

"So what the fuck happened?" Rob asked. "They just stormed your house?"

"Yeah!" the Doberman exclaimed. "I was making breakfast, and I hear the sound of cars screeching up, and the next thing I know the fucking door nailed me in the face and I got clubbed by a fucking swat officer and his shotgun! I had at least forty people in my house tearing everything up."

"What the flying fuck?" Maverick exclaimed. The big gray furred Russian husky looked confused. "What for?"

"They said I am a target in a federal probe about drugs and weapons, or something like that." Ronnie explained. "Which makes zero fucking sense because I don't do any of that shit?"

Rob grabbed his wallet and pulled out a business card for him. "Her name's Lisa Scheiddegger, and she's my attorney, and I want you to call her and I want you to meet with her for your own protection."

"Okay."

"This is grounds for a lawsuit." Rob shook his head. The usually dour looking wolf-malamute looked even more dour for his friend's sake.

Ronnie grabbed his leather vest and brushed some dirt off it. "Motherfuckers don't even respect my colors too!" He sighed and sat it back on his now broken office chair. "What am I gonna do..."

Rushing in through the broken door was his boyfriend Talon, followed by his father, Dale Bradley. Talon, wearing his landscaping t-shirt that was stained by mulch and sweat, he looked completely dumbfounded at what he saw. "Jesus fucking Christ."

"Yeah I said the same thing, Talon." Ronnie shook his head as Talon hugged him.

"Are you okay, babe?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just my pride is wounded." Ronnie sarcastically quipped. "Look at this house, Talon. Look at this fucking place."

"Wow." Dale shook his head. "Our tax dollars hard at work."

"Colty!" Talon shouted. "You okay, lil' man?"

"Look what they did to my favorite G.I Joe..." Colt frowned, holding up his broken toy.

"Aww! No!" Talon frowned. "That's awful!"

"Yeah, I said the same thing too..." Colt frowned as Talon hugged him.

"Well get you a new set of action figures, lil' buddy!" the older Dober smiled with his assuring hug.

"Okay~" Colt smiled.

"I'll help you take care of this." Rob offered.

"Rob you've helped me enough, I'd feel bad if I took advantage of-"

"No, no. You need some help, and I'm willing to do it." The wolf-hybrid reiterated.

Ronnie glanced around at his house again. "Okay, Rob."

"I'd get your computer checked too, just in case the doodlebugs added something to track you..." Maverick added.

"Fuck, yeah, you're right. Hell, they could have bugged this whole house too..."

"Das ministerium fur staatssicherheit~" Rob quipped in German, with a sarcastic click of his heels at the end.

"I don't even know why they picked me... other than being a biker. Go after the low hanging fruit."

"Well yeah, since when do cops ever really solve a problem?" Talon chuckled. "Fuck around, munch donuts."

"Heh, heh... oh lord..." Ronnie rolled his eyes.

---

"Scheiddegger, Manson, and Juarez" were big names packed in a little building on the north side of the downtown square. Squeezed between a jewelry store and a restaurant, the marble and granite faced facility served as the home to husband and wife team Lisa and Richard Scheiddegger, Joe Manson, and David Juarez. Lisa and Richard served as the personal and corporate attorneys for Rob and Maverick and their company, United Barev Industries. Now Lisa was overseeing Ronnie's budding legal situation. According to Rob, Lisa was a no-nonsense, ruthless attorney, someone who earned the nickname in Newark as "Mrs. Rob Barion". Ronnie felt confident in her legal acumen.

On an old CRT bolted to a cart, Ronnie and Lisa sat in her office, watching the playback of one of the tapes, showcasing the destruction to his house after the raid. Lisa watched intensely and took notes on her legal pad. A German Shepherd in her mid fifties, Lisa wore a light gray suit and slacks. She had light brown hair that was neatly permed. Green eyes watched intensely. Ronnie leaned back in his seat and watched with a disgruntled look on his face to the footage being played back. In contrast to Lisa's formal attire, the Dober wore gym shorts and a red and gray tanktop that clung to his lean frame.

"Wow that's fucked up." Lisa said, a remark that took Ronnie by surprise. She got up, hit stop on the VTR and rewound the tape to give it back to Ronnie. Taking a seat back at her paper strewn desk, Lisa sat her legal pad aside and looked at some of the paperwork Ronnie had, given to him by the police, stating he was under investigation for a multitude of supposed crimes.

"I'm gonna be blunt, but please forgive me."

"Sure."

"Are you involved in any criminal enterprise with the Hells Angels Motorcycle Club, Ron? Any criminal involvement?"

"None whatsoever." Ronnie shook his head. "And I have provided you my background check to show it in the folder."

Lisa nodded and examined it. "No criminal record. Just a couple speeding tickets, speed racer."

Ronnie smiled and shrugged.

"Alrighty then." Lisa nodded. "So do you have any guess to why they're coming after you?"

"Nope." Ronnie shrugged. "Other than just trying to pick an easy target because of my colors. Or some kind of assumption."

"An assumption that because you're a Hells Angel, that you're automatically out creating mayhem and crime?"

"Basically." The Doberman nodded. "Lisa, do I have a case?"

Lisa flipped through the paperwork again. "Technically yes you do have a case, but I would recommend holding off on any charges until the investigation concludes."

"I see."

"You have grounds to sue on the level of damages your home sustained, and the fact that you got injured in a no-knock raid. But I would hold off until the investigation concludes, which if what you tell me is true, and that you haven't been involved in any crime, will clear you of wrongdoing, then you can sue them for harassment and seek further compensation."

"I like that." Ronnie chuckled.

"I do too! 'Cause these suits don't pay for themselves you know."

"Oh the lawsuits Rob filed sure did."

Lisa just grinned and wagged a finger in agreement. "World class~"

"God, what a mess." Ronnie shook his head. "What's your advice?"

"Just do what you're doing, and if they have any questions, just answer them. If they try and arrest you on a supposed crime, you call me immediately."

"Okay."

"On a personal note, let me tell you how lucky you are." Lisa added as she clipped together some paperwork to stuff into Ronnie's folder. "You are very lucky that you know Rob Barion."

"You know... I've noticed that in my year being in Newark. He seems to be someone who can really unfuck stuff."

"That's 'cause a lot of people here are afraid of him. He's a zero bullshit motherfucker, Ron." Lisa explained. "Rob killed the Sheriff of Licking County several years ago, he's taken on law enforcement, city officials, hell, he fucking sued and won four billion dollars from Chicago and its Vlockner family."

"Yeah that's nuts." Ronnie chuckled. "He's crazier than us bikers."

"But you have a great ally. Rob's rough around the edges, and he can be really distant and Nixonian, but you got someone who really does care for his friends. So always remember that."

"I'd probably be homeless now or in a bad place without him coming into my life by chance last year."

"He'll take care of you." Lisa said as she handed him his folder full of legal paperwork. "Like I said, just sit it out and endure the bullshit and once it's over, we can make the next move."

Ronnie smiled. "Thanks, Lisa." He shook her paw as she smiled.

"Try and have a good weekend, Ron."

"You too, Lisa."

Departing the law office, Ronnie walked across the sidewalk to his blue Civic, parked under the shade of a tree. Setting his paperwork and videotape case on the passenger seat, he fired up the seventeen year old car and backed out to head for home. He had company to help him rebuild.

---

A small army of people were hard at work repairing Ronnie's home. From Rob and his husband Joey, to Talon, his brother Josh, and father Dale, they were assisted by a small army of bikers who had come down from Akron to assist their fellow red and white. Broken furniture was carried out, and the inside was swept and repaired. In back yard, Colt and his friends ran around and played in the shade of the big maple tree, watched by their neighbors, Greg and Kathy, and their daughter, Mindy Matheson.

Rolling down Moull Street, Ronnie listened to his band's newly released album, "Hellraiser" on CD. He loved the sound quality. It was the band's fifth album, after last year's live album and a Christmas EP to mark the return of Hard Times. Viking had just released Hellraiser a week and a half ago, and Ronnie was nervously awaiting how it would go in the charts. Did the band still have it?

As he approached his house, he took notice of an old ratty looking camper parked on the street. It was an old eighties GMC camper that he never saw before, colored beige and gray with some rust spots on it. A gut feeling told him that there was something more to it than meets the eye, but what did he know? It was Newark Ohio afterall; everything in Newark looked ratty and tired. It was the town Rob had told him "where hopes and dreams come to die".

Pulling around to the garage, Ronnie hopped out with all his paperwork tucked under his arm. A big smile lit up his face as he saw familiar faces.

"Hi Dad!" Colt waved.

"Hey!" Ronnie waved back as he went inside.

Stepping inside the living room, he watched Talon and Josh patch up a hole in the wall with some replacement drywall and spackling. Dale worked to replace a piece of trim that was damaged, and Rob and Joey finished up installing a new front door. He lucked out finding that door at Home Depot; it was a special order that got cancelled from another customer, and it fit his door perfectly. The new door was painted a deep brick red, with a faceted window near the top. Ronnie took a glance around, sat his paperwork down on his workstation's desk and jumped in to help.

By the end of the day, his living room was fully repaired and back to normal. The walls were clean looking again with a fresh coat of bright blue paint with white trim. A new TV and stand graced one wall, and a new brown sofa and recliner sat by the window. New motorcycle portraits hung up on the wall once again. The home felt like it was back to normal again, at least in appearance, as Ronnie celebrated with his fellow red and whites with a cookout.

As the sun set off to the west, music played and smoke wafted from Ronnie's smoker, as he grabbed some finished ribs from it. Everyone sat and stood around, as tiki torches glowed with lazy yellow flames to keep the bugs away. Bikers laughed and had a good time with food and drinks, while Rob and his husband Joey stood talking to Dale and Josh and a couple other bikers about a local matter. Ronnie and Talon ate dinner with their children at the picnic table.

"So what did Lisa tell you?" Talon asked.

"She told me to hold off on suing until the end of the investigation. Then go for the jugular." Ronnie explained.

"Well hell that could be forever." Talon chuckled. "That's how everything goes in Licking County. Slow and inefficient."

"Heh, unless you screw up." Ronnie rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ I can't believe that happened..."

"Something's up." Talon reasoned.

"They don't have anything better to do, so why not go after some bikers?"

"Well yeah, 'cause politicians sure ain't gonna go after themselves!" Talon laughed with a grin. He swirled his drink and took a sip.

Ronnie laughed. "Yeah, no shit."

"Do you think the police will be back?" Colt asked, looking a bit concerned.

"I don't know, Colty. But it's okay. Everything will be alright!" Ronnie assured. He looked back at Talon. "I ain't letting this get in the way of my life. Let them investigate me, I don't have anything to hide. Screw 'em."

"Hey Marty's here!" Ronnie heard someone call out. Ronnie got up to go greet his friends who had arrived from Hanover, Marty and his boyfriend Jason, and his friends Cyrus and Ben. As he ran out front to greet them at the curb, a telephoto lens captured the activity.

Poking out from the curtain to the ratty camper's back trailer, a camera trained on Ronnie's house, captured the arrival of some guests. The camera fired, taking pictures of Ronnie sharing a laugh and hugging his friends as they went around back to get some food. An FBI agent observed it and made notes in a notepad.

"Dove, I got four more people coming to the target's house." The agent reported, the yellow Lab going back to his camera to observe the electronic viewfinder. "I don't see anything out of the ordinary, looks like a party of some sort."

"Keep me posted, Cyril." The radio crackled.

"Heh, will do."

---

One Week Later.

Another hazy morning greeted Newark and Heath, with the rising sun as a dull red disk in the milky white wildfire smog that filtered down from Canada. The cool air felt heavy and suffocating, an acrid scent that seemed inescapable. Punching through the milky haze was an old DC-7C, the propliner limping in to Newark-Heath on three engines, its number four outboard radial shut down and its four-blade propeller feathered. Christened "Aquitania", the Seven Seas was one of Barev's posh VIP planes, and its arrival was anticipated by Ronnie, who stood watching it flare and touch down on the runway at Newark-Heath. It had an impressive deep rumble from its engines.

At the tarmac fence, Ronnie stood watching with Colt, and his boyfriend Talon. They were accompanied by Rob and his mechanic Vlado Horvat, who chuckled with each other about "the world's greatest trimotor".

"The best money can buy." Rob chuckled sardonically.

"Judging by the way the cowl is streaked in oil, I bet a seal blew. The usual culprit." Vlado figured as they stepped through the perimeter fence to join the awaiting ground crew.

"Oh man, I bet the Halens are freaking out." Chuckled Ronnie at the shut down engine.

"Well now's a great learning opportunity for them." Talon smirked.

"Blown engine one oh one for Donnie~" Ronnie grinned.

"Aquitania" rolled slowly on its two inboard radials onto the tarmac. It made a slow wide turn to park, guided by the ground crew. Once the inboard engines were shut down, the airstair was quickly moved up to the rear hatch, and a cargo transporter was wheeled over by the still extant cargo door. Getting clearance, Ronnie, Colt, and Talon were welcomed onto the tarmac.

Emerging from the white, blue and silver propliner were some of Rob's workers; his nephew Marcus Barion emerged from a trip to Chicago, carrying his camera suitcase and a backpack of clothes down the metal steps. A few other workers stepped down with him and they quickly made their way to the terminal building. Stepping out next was Todd Kennedy, followed quickly by Don Halen. The sight of them made Ronnie feel excited to see his friends and fellow Angels again.

Todd Kennedy was a middle aged gray wolf with tousled brown hair and goatee. He was forty-two and their band's lead guitarist. Todd wore gym shorts and a green t-shirt as he clutched his suitcase full of clothes. Climbing down with him was Don Halen, the "baby" of the band. At twenty-five, Don was Hard Times' drummer, replacing his older brother, Eddy, who was killed in the plane crash. A burly white and gray malamute with long locks of medium brown hair tied into a ponytail, Don and Todd were both visiting Ohio to train for their new careers with Centoh Intermodal. They would now be part of Rob Barion's business empire, with Todd serving as the Chicago's hub's administrator to maintenance, and Don learning the ropes of aircraft repair and overhaul.

"Brothers!" Ronnie greeted as he hugged Todd and Don tightly. They all shared a laugh as Ronnie remarked about the blown engine.

"Oh man if your parents only knew..." Ronnie chuckled.

"Well they don't need to know!" Don exclaimed with his rugged voice. "I was just about to doze off when this tremendous backfire woke me up! And I look out and there is just oil gushing out like a motherfucker!"

"Thank god for three more engines." Todd chuckled. "Otherwise, an uneventful flight."

"How's it going?" smiled Talon as he greeted his boyfriend's friends.

"Hi Talon!" Don exclaimed. He gave the tattooed up Dober a big hug with his beefy tattooed arms.

"Hi Don!" grinned Colt.

"Lil' man! Hey!" Don exclaimed as Colt gave the malamute a hug, followed by Todd.

Todd chuckled a bit as he hugged Colt and watched his motorcycle get unloaded through the cargo door. "I heard you had a bit of a run-in with the long arm of the law recently!"

"Yeah no shit..." Ronnie shook his head. "God, what an ongoing nightmare."

"Ongoing?" Todd and Don asked together.

"I'm being monitored. Everything." Ronnie rolled his eyes. "But I ain't gonna let it bother me. Screw 'em. If they wanna waste money on me, fine. I got nothing to hide."

"Any reason why?" Don asked, fumbling his brow in confusion.

"I have no idea!" Ronnie exclaimed.

Talon chuckled as he put his arm around Ronnie. "That's 'cause Ronnie don't have big dick energy like me~"

"Shut the fuck up, Talon." Ronnie laughed as Talon grinned and snuck in a playful kiss.

"I got big dick energy~" Don nodded.

"Oh boy..." Todd chuckled.

"Have ya'll eaten lunch yet?" Talon asked.

"Not yet~ Just some snacks." Todd responded as he checked over his Harley.

"Well let's get on back, and I'll make ya'll some lunch."

"Fine with me!" Don grinned big.

"Dad! Can I ride on Don's chopper?" Colt asked his Dad with a smile.

"What do you say?" Ronnie asked Don, who instantly approved as he donned his leather vest.

"Come onboard lil' man!" Don exclaimed as Colt grinned big.

"Yay!" the kid exclaimed as he went to fetch his helmet from the backseat of the Civic.

Ronnie loaded Todd and Don's luggage into his Civic and took off with Talon for home. Following close behind was Todd and Don; Todd rode on his black and red Harley cruiser, and Don roared beside him on his black and chrome chopper with Colt holding on. They came to the light and soon turned left onto Hebron Road, to start their way back to Newark. Unbeknownst to Ronnie, he had a shadow from up in the air.

The anonymous gray helicopter with its distinctive, low thumping rotors followed the car and two motorcycles. A photographer sat by the opening hatch, monitoring with his camera equipped with a massive telephoto lens.

---

Returning back to his house on Moull Street, Ronnie and Talon helped carry Todd and Don's bags back into the house. As Ronnie wheeled one suitcase behind him, he saw his neighbors hard at work doing yard work in their back yard.

"Morning, Ronnie!" greeted Greg, who walked up to the fence and waved.

"Morning! Be one sec, Greg!" Ronnie called as he stepped inside. He quickly ran back out to greet him at the fence.

"Hey is everything okay?" Greg asked.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Well I wanted to let you know that an FBI agent came to my house this morning..."

"Oh boy..."

"He asked a bunch of questions about you, wanting to know if anything suspicious was going on at your house, the usual mush." Greg explained. "And I told him no. I asked him just what the hell is going on, and he said he was not at liberty to explain due to an ongoing investigation. So I asked one of my former colleagues at the Sheriff's Department just what the hell is going on, and they told me that there has been a growing number of drug overdoses and assaults in Licking County, Muskingum, Coshocton, Fairfield, Franklin counties, and all the incidents revolve around a man on a motorcycle who they believe is you."

"Well they're wrong." Ronnie laughed.

"And that's what I told them, since some of those supposed incidents happened when you were home here!" Greg chuckled. "So unless you can split yourself like an amoeba... I asked my contact for a bit more detail, and all the victims have said that it was a red Doberman who has long hair, and rode on a motorcycle, and they believed is a biker."

"Well gee, lots of people ride on motorcycles..." Ronnie rolled his eyes.

"Heh, yeah, I get it, and that's what I told them." Greg shrugged. "So until they get their guy Ron, you're kind of screwed."

"Fantastic." Ronnie quipped sarcastically. He leaned on the fence and laughed sardonically. "Just fantastic."

"Hi Greg!" Todd and Don both shouted as they ran up to the fence.

"Hey guys!" the older wolf smiled. "Welcome back to Newark!"

"Job training for two weeks!" laughed Don.

"Best place to be!" Greg joked as they all shared a laugh.

After talking to Greg for a bit, everyone went back inside where Ronnie fixed lunch with Talon's help. While Colt and his friend Colby played in the shade under the tree in the back, Ronnie sat around the table with Don, Todd, and Talon.

"So let me get this straight? Some motherfucker who rides a bike and has long hair and supposedly looks like you, is doing all this crime, drugs, assaults, and shit, and they think it's you?" Don asked, looking bemused.

"Basically." Ronnie rolled his eyes.

"In a way that's kinda funny." Don laughed as he bit into his sandwich.

"Funny for you!" Ronnie chuckled. He pinched the spot between his eyes at the bridge of his muzzle and rubbed it with his fingers.

"There's a lot of red Dobers who have long hair." Todd snickered. "Like Lefty back home?"

"Or Ryan from Oakland." Don added.

"You got Jimmy and Animal at my chapter in Akron." Ronnie rolled his eyes. "But they are dead set that it's me."

"Well of course! You bikers are the scourge of the earth!" Talon grinned with a snicker through his teeth.

"That's what the coppers always say, yet how many Chicago cops get busted for being dirty?" Todd rolled his eyes.

"They're just picking on me for being the only Hells Angel in Newark." Ronnie grumbled.

"Bullying is bad!" Don laughed.

"It's fucking bullshit is what it is." The Dober grumbled. "Ah, well."

"What's your plan?" Todd asked.

"My lawyer says to just hold off until the investigation concludes, and then we'll go from there." Shrugged Ronnie.

"What if the investigation never concludes?"

"Oh god..." Ronnie laughed. "Thanks for filling my mind with more negative thoughts, Donnie!"

"Keeping it real!" the malamute grinned big.

"Sooner or later, that guy's gonna fuck up and get busted. It always happens." Talon suggested.

"What makes you think that?" Don asked.

Talon chuckled. "Because that's how it goes for some of the retards I get stuck with for my adult daycare, I mean, landscaping business! They always talk about how hard pressed they are, and all this bullshit going on and they can't come into work, and I usually end up finding out that they can't come in because they wanna party and get fucked up on drugs or alcohol, or some combination of that. The truth always has a way of coming forward."

"People are fucking dumb." Todd grumbled.

"I don't give a shit about it if it was just me, but I think Colty got shook up, and that upset me."

"Understandable. Kids don't understand why." Todd frowned as he watched Colt and Colby play with squirt guns.

"I just gotta roll with the punches..." Ronnie shrugged.

"Let's talk singles!" Don exclaimed, as they all began talking about their latest album.

---

A gas leak near work gave Ronnie an unexpected day off. Taking the opportunity for some father and son time, Ronnie and Colt hit the road in their truck, to head to Columbus for a little morning shopping adventure after Todd and Don ventured off to work. Through the smog, they took Route 16 through southern Licking County, passing through the little town of Pataskala to head towards Reynoldsburg.

Ronnie gingerly touched his still swollen eye, wincing a bit as he checked on the swelling. He looked a bit annoyed being stuck behind a car that was going ten under the speed limit. Colt sat in the front seat, buckled in, sipping on a juice box looking content as usual. The two Dobers wore matching gray and black striped tanktops, with Ronnie having red gym shorts on, and Colt wearing purple. A red and white Hells Angels fitted hat sat snugly on Ronnie's head, his long hair poking out all from the sides.

Arriving at the giant Lowe's store off Broad Street, Ronnie and Colt went to buy flowers for their garden. Colt picked out some colorful flats of petunias, a couple potted plants, and some red and orange ornamental poppies while Ronnie grabbed a bright green barberry bush, to replace a bush that died over the winter in the corner of the house. Wheeling their fully loaded cart to the checkout lane, Ronnie doled out the cash and pushed the heavily loaded cart back to the truck to load its long bed. He neatly stowed the flowers up against the bulkhead and secured them with a couple bags of top soil to hold them in place.

After buying their flowers, they went next door to a strip mall, where the record store and bike store were at. Parking near the front of the bike shop, Colt excitedly threw the door open as Ronnie followed inside, looking happy at his son's excitement to get a new bike, after his had the frame break from a stress fracture in the early spring. Even Ronnie was interested in getting a bicycle, so he could go bike riding with him on the bike path in town. It had been years since he rode a bicycle.

"Well pick out one you like!" Ronnie suggested as Colt went to look at the selection of kids bikes on the rack.

"Is Mister Dad looking for a bicycle too?" the salesman asked, a middle-aged brown wolf wearing a short sleeve polo and khakis.

"Why yeah actually." Ronnie smiled. "I'm not sure what I'd like to get!"

"Are you planning on going off road with the bike or anything?"

"Eh, probably just stick to pavement for now!" the Doberman laughed. "It's been so many years since I rode a bike. Probably not since I was like sixteen!"

"Well we got these beach cruisers here if you'd like to take a look~"

The salesman showed Ronnie a black and chrome cruiser bike, with big twenty-nine inch tires. "This one's a great Huffy. We sell so many of these, and it comes with a free bell!" The salesman even rang it for Ronnie, who looked amused.

"Not sure if I really need the bell." The Doberman chuckled, just as a loud "HONK!" momentarily startled him. Colt grinned big as he held a large bike horn in his paws.

"Look what I found, Dad!" Colt grinned as he honked the horn again. It had a deep, clown horn sound which made Ronnie laugh. "You should put this on your motorcycle!"

"I'm not sure if that would work!" Ronnie laughed.

"Show them bikers who's boss!" the kid grinned as he honked it again.

"Ha, you tell 'em." Ronnie smiled.

"Can I get it, Dad!"

"Sure~"

"So what do you think about this Huffy?"

"I like it!"

Three hundred dollars later, Colt and Ronnie stepped back out into the haze wheeling their bikes back to the truck. Ronnie hoisted them into the rapidly filled up bed, strapped them down, and went another short hop over to the record store to go look at some vinyl and books. Ronnie soon stepped out carrying a box filled with records, while Colt held onto two books he wanted to read.

"Alright, let's get all this home and grab some lunch and-"

"Mister Samson!" came a voice with the sound of authority. Ronnie looked up to see three Licking County Sheriff's Deputies approaching him, with the aid of a couple Reynoldsburg cops right behind. "I have a couple of questions to ask you about a recent incident!"

"Oh boy, here we go." Ronnie chuckled cynically.

"What were you doing yesterday evening?"

"At home."

"You sure? You weren't out causing chaos assaulting someone in the Reynoldsburg area?" one of the Reynoldsburg cops asked with a gruff tone.

"No." Ronnie calmly said as he unlocked his truck to open the door and air the cab out.

"Someone got really hurt, and they said the suspect matches your appearance. Biker, early thirties, long wavy hair, red Doberman."

"Wow, just like many others." Ronnie smiled jokingly. "You guys outta know what I was up to, since you got the feds camping out near my house and ya'll pass by my house all the time..."

"Don't give me a fucking attitude." A deputy pointed with a glare that was hidden behind dark shades.

"Watch your mouth, bub." Ronnie suggested. "Just because you got a badge, doesn't mean you can just sit there and say whatever you want. I was at home yesterday evening, planting flowers with my son in the garden."

"Poppies eh?"

"My son wanted them."

"What kind of poppies? Opium poppies?" the Reynoldsburg cop said with a sly grin emerging on the wolf's face.

"No." Ronnie glared. "You guys give me too much credit." As Ronnie reached in to put the key in the ignition to start it, he got yanked back by one of the Reynoldsburg cops. The Deputies stood with their paws resting on their holstered guns. Ronnie realized that the situation was getting really tense, and he saw the nervousness on Colt's face.

"Can I just start the damn truck?" Ronnie asked. "Jesus Christ..."

The deputies backed away and Ronnie fired the engine up and turned the air conditioner on. "Look, I don't know what's going on either. But you got the wrong guy... It ain't me."

"Mister Hells Angel."

"Yeah. Thanks for reminding me~" Ronnie rolled his eyes. "Can I go now?"

"Okay."

"Thank you. Come on Colt."

Colt nervously ran around to jump into the cab. Ronnie placed the box of records in the backseat, hopped in and quickly took off as all the cops stood there watching his departure. Ronnie glanced back momentarily in his mirror as he came up to the red light.

"Dad, what was that about?" Colt asked.

"I don't know." Ronnie responded. "But I suspect that someone got beat up in a deal gone wrong..."

"Why are the police after you, Dad?"

"I think I have an imposter, son~"

"An imposter?"

"Yeah. Someone who looks kind of like me..." Ronnie nodded.

Turning onto Broad Street to begin the journey back to Newark, Ronnie called his attorney Lisa, and gave him an update on the encounter in the parking lot. He kept the call short, sweet, and to the point. He sat the phone down and rubbed his forehead while driving. The stress was giving him a tension headache.

---

Gingerly placing the vinyl on his record player, Ronnie sat the needle down and returned to sitting on the floor as Led Zeppelin began to blast on his stereo. Reeling from a headache, Ronnie rubbed his forehead with a frustrated gaze on his face. He was waiting for the Tylenol to kick in as he sorted through his used vinyl to replace in his collection that got destroyed by the police raid. He placed the new LP's back on the shelf in order, stopping to take a moment to gaze at all the cover art before stowing them away.

Reaching into the box, Ronnie pulled out a forty-five that Colt had picked up. It was a single from Three Dog Night, an 1972 vintage of "Black and White" and "Freedom for the Stallion" on the B-side. He sat it aside to show Colt once he had come inside from riding his new bike with his friends. Continuing to sort through the last LP's, he placed them back on the shelf, and went to take the empty box to the trash can out back. Stepping back inside, he grabbed his head and went to crack his neck, which helped relive his annoying headache some more.

The back door swung open to reveal a happy Colt come running back inside. "Hey Dad!"

"Hey! How's the bike?"

"I love it!" Colt grinned big. "We need to go bike riding!"

"Maybe this weekend we'll go on the bike path~" Ronnie suggested.

"How's your head feel?"

"Getting there, son." Ronnie nodded as he walked back to the living room.

"How's the records?"

"All back to normal!" Ronnie pointed at the shelf. "Like it never even happened~"

"Whee!" Colt laughed. "Do you have the record I picked out?"

"Right here!" Ronnie said as he picked up the forty-five. "This is a really old record."

"How old?"

"Fifty-one years old."

"Oooh~"

Ronnie gently stopped his Led Zeppelin album and gently stowed it back into its sleeve. He placed the adapter onto the turntable and sat the forty-five down and adjusted the speed setting. He gently placed the needle down, with a faint crackle on the speakers. They stood and listened to the old pop song together.

"The ink is black, the page is white

Together we learn to read and write

A child is black, a child is white

The whole world looks upon the sight

A beautiful sight

And now a child can understand

That this is the law of all the land

All the land

The world is black, the world is white

It turns by day and then by night

A child is black, a child is white

Together they grow to see the light

To see the light

And now, at last, we plainly see

We'll have a dance of liberty

Liberty"

Ronnie listened with an amused look on his face. The Three Dog Night song included silly instrumentals, like a cowbell, which made Colt giggle.

"There's a cowbell!"

"Needs more cowbell~" the Dober chuckled.

"So what's this song about?" Colt asked.

"Well... a long time ago... there was a really bad thing that happened in our country... segregation, and schools used to be segregated until the 1950's."

"Why?"

"Unfortunately that's how society was. We were backwards once upon a time."

"Oh." Colt frowned.

"So this song is about the end of that."

"I like this song!"

"It does have a nice charm to it doesn't it?"

"You should sing it, Dad!" Colt grinned.

"You think so?"

"Yeah!"

"Hah, okay." Ronnie chuckled as he started the record over. He did like the intro, done on a piano, as it followed through the cowbell and other instruments coming in. Ronnie followed along as he tapped his foot to match the beat.

"The ink is black, the page is white, together we learn to read and white. A child is black, a child is white. The whole world looks upon the sightttttttt, a beautiful sightttttttttttttttttt~"

Colt had a big grin on his face as his Dad sung along with the record. He could match Danny Hutton's tonal range, but Ronnie's voice was a bit more gruff in certain places. Ronnie liked the song for its simplicity and sincerity.

"Yay Dad!" Colt cheered. "I liked it!"

"Thanks!" Ronnie laughed as he gently put the forty-five back into the sleeve. "It is a cute song for sure."

"Yeah!"

Ronnie chuckled and cracked his neck again, this time feeling the headache subsiding away. "Why don't we go plant some flowers?"

---

Puzzled at why Ronnie was late and not answering his texts or calls, Varg worked in the studio, filling in for him as the clock struck almost eleven o'clock in the morning. Cutting together a song, Varg kept one eye on the clock as he kept pondering about the whereabouts of his sound engineer and if he was okay. Leaving it over to his assistant, the burly Arctic wolf got up and stretched before leaving the editing room for the hallway. As he peered out the big glass windows, he saw Ronnie arrive on his motorcycle. He pulled into the parking lot rather fast. Varg quickly made his way downstairs to greet him.

Ronnie stepped inside, doffing his helmet and looking rather upset as he ran a gloved paw through his flowing hair. His shoes stomped on the tile floor as Varg rounded the corner in the lobby.

"Ronnie! Ronnie! Are you okay?! What happened?"

"I got fucking arrested this morning..." Ronnie huffed as he pressed the elevator button. "Accused of violently assaulting someone in the early morning hour... was at the jail for about four hours until the victim came from the hospital and told them that I wasn't the guy..."

Ronnie pointed at his chinstrap beard. "The chinstrap saved me~"

"Facial hair does have its perks..." Varg chuckled. "Jesus Christ Ronnie, I was worried!"

"Look I'm sorry if I'm pissed off..."

"Don't be sorry, Ronnie. I understand."

"I gotta... take a moment... I gotta talk to my attorney... I'm sorry for being late... I'll make up for this."

"Look, I get it. It's okay. Why don't you just take a breather, gain your bearings, talk to your lawyer, and then you can get to work. Okay?"

"Okay."

Excusing himself to a conference room, Ronnie got on the phone with his attorney, and explained what had happened. He spoke to Lisa for half an hour and was so frustrated that he gave himself a tension headache. Trying to get to work after being so late, Ronnie struggled to focus at cutting together songs. The dull throbbing ache clouded his mind, and he just couldn't accomplish anything. After spending two hours cutting together one song, and clearly struggling to get anything done, Varg sent Ronnie home. He departed with some notes and music stored on an external hard drive to work at home when he felt better.

Stowing the notes and hard drive in the side pouch on his Fatboy, Ronnie shoved his helmet onto his head and quickly took off to head home. He roared out onto the road and quickly hopped on Route 16 to make the trip back. Flowing with traffic, Ronnie passed through the downtown and approached the split where Route 79 joined up to and from Route 16. He put his turn signal on and began slowing down to make the merge onto Route 79 to take the 11th Street exit.

Just as he began to merge, an SUV came out of nowhere, and Ronnie had to swerve. In an abrupt move, feeling disoriented enough by the bad headache, Ronnie about lost control. He screeched the tires on the pavement, smoking the tread as he avoided another car, and nearly struck a Sheriff's Deputy who was sitting and watching traffic. The Ford Escape pulled out and began following Ronnie as he slowed up to a stop on the 11th Street exit.

Breathing heavily from the abrupt move, Ronnie doffed his helmet momentarily and rubbed his throbbing forehead, just as he saw the Deputy pull up behind him, his light bar glowing red, white, and blue. Out stepped an imposing looking Rottweiler, clad in his black uniform.

"Mind explaining to me what happened back there? Mister Hells Angel?" The Deputy said with a sarcastic tone.

"Sorry... The SUV came out of nowhere and I have to swerve." Ronnie said, looking uncomfortable.

"Have you been drinking, buddy? You look unwell..." The Deputy asked, glaring through his sunglasses.

"No."

"Why don't we test that?" he asked as he radioed for backup. Ronnie rolled his eyes and muttered a "great...". Within a minute, another Deputy pulled up, and Ronnie was made under threat of arrest to submit to a breathalyzer test, which as expected, blew zero trace of any alcohol in his system. Ronnie grumbled about having a headache from his earlier arrest and wrongful accusation, and the Deputies ultimately let him go. Ronnie grumbled, donned his helmet, and took off to finally get home.

Downing two more Tylenol, Ronnie immediately threw himself into bed and fell asleep for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon.

---

"So you got fucking arrested?" Todd exclaimed over dinner. The gray wolf plopped a big spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his plate and handed the bowl off to Don. "Like they just slapped cuffs on you and hauled you off to jail?"

"Yeah! Literally!" Ronnie exclaimed. "I made it like... a block down the road, and here comes the doodlebugs with their lights on, and they literally grabbed me and took me downtown and I was there for like four hours."

"Wow." Don and Todd both muttered.

"So how did you get out, Dad?" Colt asked.

Ronnie pointed to his chinstrap. "The victim apparently recovered enough from the hospital to come to the station, took one look at me and was like 'that ain't the guy, look at the 'strap!' and he also pointed out the guy who attacked him wasn't wearing any Hells Angels attire."

"See? Facial hair pays out!" Don laughed. "Wow, Ronnie, that fuckin' sucks."

"And then when I'm on my way home, some bitch cut me off, and I about collided with a Sheriff's Deputy, who pulled me over..."

"Oh boy..." Todd grimaced.

"I had to blow a breathalyzer... and what a surprise! Zero. They thought I was drunk..."

"They were trying to pinch you on something..." the malamute shook his head.

"What a fuckin' day..." the Doberman shook his head as he carved up a chicken he had roasted.

"How's your headache, Dad?" Colt smiled.

"A lot better! I feel a lot better~" Ronnie assured his son as he put a slice of chicken on his plate.

"You know we had two FBI men come to the airport..." Don added.

"Oh god..."

"We were on lunch and two men in black suits came waltzing in and wanted to ask a bunch of questions about you... and our affiliation with the club..." Todd rolled his eyes. "Like what is there to know? Ohhhhh, scary bikers..."

"Ooooooooh~" Don chimed in with jazz hands.

"Here I am trying to stay outta trouble, and some muddafucka who probably ain't even a biker, is giving me shit!"

"What are the odds, Ronnie."

"Yeah, I know."

The front door opened to reveal Talon, who was drenched in sweat. The tattooed up Dober wore a bright green tanktop that was heavily stained by mulch that still clung to it in places. "Sorry I'm late, babe~"

"Here get yourself a plate!" Ronnie pointed.

"So what the hell is this I hear about getting arrested?" Talon asked as he grabbed a plate and began loading it up with some food. "I'm sorry I didn't get back to you sooner, but my whiz kids fucked me over again..."

"It's so stupid..." Ronnie grumbled as he explained the situation to his boyfriend. Talon just fumbled his brow in confusion and gave Ronnie a bewildered smirk at his rant.

"Jesus Christ." Talon chuckled. "Only that could happen to you..."

"Yeah only me..." Ronnie rolled his eyes. "I'd love to give these cops a piece of my mind!"

"Oh I'm sure the feds would love that!" Talon grinned with a snort.

"Yeah, I'm sure they would too!" laughed Don with a mouth full of food. "They're gonna pinch you on anything they can, just because of your colors~"

"Yeah, no shit." Ronnie grumbled. He shook his head. "I really am fucked until the FBI finishes their investigation..."

"You wanna know what I think of that investigation?" Talon remarked as he lifted a leg and farted. "That's what I gotta say!"

"Oh god..." Don and Todd laughed.

"Talon! Stop farting!" Ronnie laughed. "God damn!"

"Oh man, my stomach's been all messed up after I had these leftover beans for lunch."

"Oh boy..." Todd chuckled.

"They were in the fridge for a few days! I had to eat them!" Talon laughed.

"Jesus Christ, here we go!" Ronnie chuckled as Talon took a seat with everyone.

---

Breathing a sigh slightly, Ronnie emerged from the bathroom in just his red and black boxers. He ran a paw through his messy locks of hair and stopped to grab the brush off the dresser to give his hair a basic brushing before bed. Talon laid on the bed playing with his phone, wearing just his snug green briefs.

"What a day~" Ronnie remarked.

"Yeah, I say that too." Talon chuckled. "I'm beat, Ronnie. I had to unfuck so much shit because of these morons I have to deal with."

"Why don't you just let them go? If they're not working?" Ronnie asked.

"Well fuck, then I'd have nobody." Talon laughed. "But Jesus Christ... Brian and Keith..."

"Aren't those the two methhead looking dudes? The one with the misshapen head and the other with a bowl cut?"

"Yeah. Brainiac and Coconut Head." Talon laughed. "Jesus Christ... I can't win in this industry. You get burn outs like those two, or you get questionable immigration status, and I don't need to go through that shit again..."

Ronnie just shook his head and chuckled.

"I remember being at our office and INS or whoever came waltzing in and they nabbed two guys who were from... Honduras or... wherever... hard working dudes, couldn't speak English to save their life... but I got fined for hiring illegal labor... Hey! The I-9 went through, the numbers looked accurate! How the fuck was I gonna know!?"

"And if you just assumed, that's discriminatory." Chuckled Ronnie.

Talon gave a sarcastic gaze and a point. "You're fucked either way."

"That's how I feel right now!" Ronnie exclaimed. "Someone who looks like me, is causing all this shit, and they're going after me! Unbelievable!"

"And you don't do anything questionable with the club?" Talon asked.

Ronnie stopped his brushing and turned to stare at Talon. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well I mean, you're a member to one of the most infamous biker organizations in the world~" Talon chuckled. "Sometimes associations can have unintended consequences?"

Ronnie looked irritated and smacked a paw on his dresser. "I wish the Hells Angels would get away from the criminality and shit as being part of the living free and disregarding the customs and norms of life. 'Cause it's really fucking guys like me over! And no! I don't do anything questionable, or illegal in the club, Talon."

"Hey I just asked a question! No need for any hostility!"

"No it's because everyone thinks when you wear these colors that you're automatically a violent degenerate who shuffles around hoes and cooks meth. I have nothing on my criminal record except for some speeding tickets, which yeah, is my fault there."

Ronnie sighed. "When I was patched in, my father and grandfather told me that I could be something great without having to resort to violence or criminal activity in the club. My Dad told me specifically that if I fucked up, he'd be my worst nightmare. And I believed him! My father and grandfather were Hells Angels practically their whole lives and never got involved in anything criminal because they didn't want to get fucked over for short gains. That's the problem some of these guys have! It's all about short term goals of making shit tons of cash for the club and themselves. And yeah, you can make a lot of money by selling drugs and extortion and shit like that, but what's the point in the end when you get caught? Because it's gonna happen..."

"True..." Talon nodded.

"My grandfather played the long game, and so did my father, and now me. Grandpa helped organize events, concerts for the club, he worked his ass off as a mechanic at a garage owned by the club, my Dad did the same thing, and they played the long game! And that's what I did with my music. Me and the guys in the band. We didn't want to fuck our families over."

"Ronnie, I'm sorry if I said the wrong thing..." Talon frowned.

"No... it's fine..." Ronnie said. "I'm sorry I snapped. I'm just... under a lot of pressure."

"I understand."

"Guys think that's the life of being a biker. A lot of broken people get into the Hells Angels and they keep the vicious cycle going. They think violence, drugs, and titties are the way of being an outlaw biker, or whatever they like to call us."

"Titties ain't bad if they're not connected to a psychopath!" Talon laughed.

"Well you'd know firsthand." Ronnie chuckled to Talon's big grin.

"She only tried to kill me once!"

"Dad told me that I should do something good since it's an honor to have those colors on my vest. There are thousands of guys who want to be red and whites and don't have what it takes, and I did. And I worked my ass off to get it, and didn't rely on Dad or Grandpa, though they did help me a lot along the way... it just pisses me off that feds are just going after me being 'cause of my fuckin' colors, despite not doing anything! It's really putting me under pressure!"

"You know what else is under pressure?" Talon asked. He grinned as he let a huge fart rip.

"TALON!" Ronnie laughed. "Jesus fucking Christ! Stop farting in my bed!"

"I can't help it! Your bed's so comfy and I get so relaxed!" his boyfriend laughed.

"Oh god, so relaxed you can't hold in a fart?" Ronnie teased. "You bottom too much!"

"Ha!" Talon laughed.

"DUDE THAT STINKS!" Ronnie exclaimed as he grabbed some air freshener and sprayed it. "God damn dude!"

Talon closed his eyes and laughed. "I shouldn't have had those fuckin' leftover beans... they were like three days old in the fridge."

"I can smell that!" the Doberman exclaimed. "Dude that is awful!"

Talon closed his eyes and laughed as he farted again.

"God, you disgusting fuck! You disgusting, flatulating, fuck!" Ronnie laughed as he sprayed more air freshener directly on Talon.

"God I can't stop farting!" Talon laughed as he ripped another huge fart.

"Motherfucker that fart ain't gonna be a fart..." Ronnie chuckled. "God... and I bet right now the feds are probably listening in to this disgusting explosion of your heinous anus!"

"Well hell, if the feds are listening in, this is what I gotta say to them!" PFFFFTTTTFFFTTTTT! "UH OH!"

Talon immediately jumped up and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Yeah! Way to go, motherfucker! I told you that fart ain't gonna be a fart! Great! Now I gotta change the fuckin' bed sheets again! God damnit, Talon!" Ronnie shouted with a laugh. He closed his eyes, shook his head and sprayed more air freshener.

---

Saturday morning was sunny and warm, a nice start to June. Moull Street was quiet, with only an occasional passing car.

"Okay, I see the target with his son, they got bicycles it looks like." Radioed an FBI Agent. Peering through the curtains of the crummy camper trailer, the federal agent observed Ronnie strapping down his new bicycle to the rack to his car with his son's bike. Another agent made notes on a notebook as photos were taken. "Okay, target is on the road with his partner."

"Is the helicopter in the area?"

"Fueling at this time."

"Look for the blue civic and gray truck. Get Bill and Bob ready."

"Okay."

Going to the bike path access off Church Street, Ronnie and Colt pulled into a parking space in the shade, followed a minute later by Talon and his daughter Emily. Fetching their bikes, they got ready as Ronnie tied his hair into a ponytail and tied a bandana atop his wedge shaped head. As he fixed his ponytail, he heard the distinctive rotor sound of that anonymous helicopter, which emerged into view above the trees and seemingly hovered.

"Oh god..." Ronnie muttered to himself.

"Hey! There's a helicopter!" Emily pointed out to Talon, who glanced over at Ronnie.

"Your friends are here." Talon chuckled.

"Yeah... I noticed that... Come on, let's go riding~"

"Okay!" Colt grinned as he took off on his new bike. Ronnie laughed and followed suit behind him. "I'm not gonna let them get to me, Talon! I'm not!"

"I get it!" Talon called back.

Hopping on the shaded bike path, Ronnie followed Colt, who barreled ahead on his bike. Ronnie had to remind him a few times to slow down so he could keep up. It had been years since he had ridden a bicycle, his memory taking him back to when he was fourteen or so. The bike path exited the wooded area and followed Route 16, which grew hilly. Ronnie's legs strained on the steep incline that led to the intersection that provided a bridge across to the university campus. Straining to go up the hill, Ronnie grew annoyed at the presence of the feds, watching him from above in the anonymous gray helicopter that hovered in the distance. They soon disappeared back into more woodland, and the helicopter lost sight as it began orbiting around in the area.

"Is Bill and Bob in position, over?"

"They're standing by, over."

"Copy that."

Rounding a bend, Ronnie kept tapping the brakes on his bike as Colt went fast over a small stone bridge that spanned a little creek.

"Hey! Hey! Little man! Slow up!" Ronnie called. As he made another turn, he noticed two bicyclists standing on the edge of the trail. They were two middle aged wolves, wearing matching gray outfits and helmets. Both men just stared at Ronnie as he rode by. After Emily and Talon passed by, they hopped on their bikes and began to follow.

"Target on the move." The lead bicyclist reported in his radio.

Reaching the university, Ronnie soon stopped with Colt to take a break in the shade and get some water to rehydrate. He sat with his back against the tree, rubbing his now sore knees.

"Are you okay, Dad?"

"Yeah, just old." Ronnie laughed. "Man... it's been a long time since I've ridden a bike like this..."

"Your knees are killing you, huh?" chuckled Talon as he drank from a bottle of Gatorade.

"Not the end of the world... how in the world are your knees not aching from a bike ride?"

"Well when you're on your knees all the time..." Talon grinned.

"Oh boy..." Ronnie chuckled. He looked over Talon's shoulder to notice the two anonymous bicyclists passing by, again. Ronnie just closed his eyes and shook his head in annoyance. "Feds..." he grumbled to himself.

"Hey, I keep seeing those bicyclists!" Colt mentioned to Ronnie. "Are they following us or something?"

"Nah. Don't worry about it, lil' man." Ronnie assured.

"Just worry about your knees getting you back to the car!" Talon teased.

"Oh lord..." Ronnie grimaced.

After sitting around for a while, they hopped back onto their bikes and began the long trip back to their parking spot on Church Street, a few miles away. The two wolves, returning back from their loop around the campus, stopped as they watched Ronnie leave.

"Jack?"

"Go, Bob?"

"Target is on the move, back onto the bike path. Going back to you."

"We're in position, over."

"Copy that."

---

"Hey, you need some help there, Ron?" teased Don and Todd, as they saw Ronnie straining to get out of his car. The malamute and wolf stifled laughs and smirks as Ronnie held onto the door of his Civic and climbed out, his sore knees trembling.

"Maybe I shouldn't have done that..." Ronnie joked with a cynical chuckle.

"Dad! That was great!" Colt grinned big. "Are you okay, Dad?"

"Your Dad's just a little sore..." Ronnie remarked.

"A little?" Talon snorted. "Come here, let your big studly boyfriend help you out!"

"You should get on your knees more, that'd help~" Todd chuckled.

"Want me to run you a hot bath too?" Don laughed with a grin.

"Everyone's a comedian..." chuckled the Doberman. "Oh man, I'm hurting..."

Limping back inside, Ronnie practically collapsed into his chair at his computer, as he rubbed his aching knees. Perhaps riding a few miles after not doing it for nearly two decades was a bad idea.

The telephone rang, and Ronnie found it was the Harley Davidson dealership calling him. He picked it up and spoke to the manager about his "lead sled" while checking the news on his desktop. Since all the legal fiasco with the feds, Ronnie subscribed to the local newspaper online, to hear the latest in Newark. Sure enough, an article on the home page, talked about a spate of crime in the area caused by "a biker looking male". Ronnie just rolled his eyes.

"What do you want to do for dinner, Ronnie?" Talon asked.

"Why don't we just order out..." Ronnie suggested with a chuckle. "I don't feel like cooking tonight."

"A bit sore?" Grinned his boyfriend.

"Shut up." Ronnie snickered.

Talon ventured out to go grab dinner, as Ronnie sat around with Todd and Don in the living room.

"So me and Don were out riding about and guess what happened..." Todd said with a cynical snicker.

"The feds stopped you?"

"We were stopped by the Newark Police to ask some questions about a recent incident that happened overnight. ...Don?"

"The usual- someone got violently assaulted in an apparent drug deal gone wrong. Same suspect- red Doberman with long hair, wearing leathers, and riding a motorcycle." Don added. "You know... like thousands of other people in this state~"

Ronnie just rolled his eyes in response.

"They asked about you, and we told them you were asleep, the same with us..." Todd explained.

"Hence why I was stalked on my bike ride by the helicopter..."

"Don't they have better things to do?" Don quipped.

"Guess not!" Ronnie laughed. "Jesus Christ... how much more are they gonna do?"

"Well don't say that!" Todd and Don both exclaimed. "Hey Ronnie, what do you think of this?"

"Yeah, Don?"

"We were also hanging out with Varg and his wife, and his wife was interested in working with us on an album. Like a collaboration of making a cover of Fleetwood Mac songs?"

"Huh, that's interesting."

"I don't have a problem with it. I think it's neat to explore other stuff than just metal, hard rock." Todd shrugged.

"Yeah. I like the idea!" Don agreed.

"I'm just biting my nails on Hellraiser..." Ronnie grimaced. "It's still kind of having a slow start..."

"Yeah..."

"Varg is going to start releasing a few more singles to promote it soon." Don added. "So hopefully it starts gaining momentum."

"I think we should create two songs, just something for shits and giggles and throw those out too." Ronnie suggested.

"That'd be interesting." Todd nodded.

"There's a pop song that my Mom really liked, 'She's a Beauty' by the Tubes, and Colty really likes this quirky lil' pop song from Three Dog Night, that I'd be willing to sing for him."

"Oh yeah?" Don perked up. "I heard She's a Beauty. My parents' like the Tubes."

"Better than that awful Peter Kent song your parents danced to at that party..."

"Oh god..." Don laughed.

"I think Killian should sing that song, since his voice is perfect for it. Slick, powerful. Mine's too gruff."

"Same here..." Don nodded.

"Well, let's see if they can come on out here for the weekend before we go, and we'll record some stuff!" Todd suggested.

"Yeah! I gotta talk to Rob anyways." Ronnie told his friends. "I'll ask him about it, since I gotta hit a flight from him to go see my mom and uncle soon. Heh, heh, jet set lifestyle now~"

"Livin' the life there, Ron-O!" Todd teased.

"Ooofff! Yeah..." Ronnie laughed as he winced in pain from moving in his chair.

---

Juggling two plastic cases of Barev 525 audiotape out of the editing room, Ronnie made his way down the hallway for Varg's office to go pick up some paperwork to take with him over to Rob's office in downtown Newark. He left with his two boxes of audiotape, and a folder with some signed paperwork and two checks affixed to the statements. Ronnie hopped into the elevator and made his way down to the lobby to head to the parking lot.

Stowing everything into a backpack he had resting on his Fatboy, Ronnie hopped on and took off for the highway. Roaring in a turn for Route 16, he punched the throttle and took off in the right lane. Traffic on the highway was very light for mid-morning, and Ronnie practically had the expressway to himself as he roared towards the downtown. A few minutes later, he took the Hudson Street exit, and ventured into the construction filled downtown. He came up to the red light and waited. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a gaggle of motorcycles take off and make the left turn to immediately turn and pull into the UDF. They had some nice Harleys that caught Ronnie's eye, and the three guys all wore leather vests like his, complete with a three-piece cut. Ronnie got the green light after a minute and went to refuel at the UDF.

Pulling in, he rumbled up to an open pump and threw the kickstand down as he parked. Hopping off, the dog glanced over at the guys and their bikes at two parks not far away. One, a burly Rottweiler, turned his back to Ronnie, revealing his patch as a rattlesnake head with "DIAMONDBACKS" written above in an arcing patch like his Hells Angels patch. Ronnie's eyes squinted a bit in disdain when he saw "LEO" and "MC" on his cut. He immediately recalled his father and grandfather's disdain for law enforcement biker clubs copying the outlaw biker patches. Ronnie thought it was hypocritical; here they were, cops harassing bikers for their colors, while blatantly copying their look and trying to mimic the same lifestyle. He just rolled his eyes as he paid for his fuel.

Ronnie turned his attention to his bike as he watched the fueling process. As he pumped gas, he heard the sound of boots, heavy on the pavement, march towards his direction. Ronnie glanced up to see that big Rottweiler walking towards him.

"I didn't think I'd see a Hells Angel in town!" the Rottweiler said with a big grin, his eyes hidden behind really dark shades.

"Well surprise~" Ronnie quipped sarcastically. He turned his attention back to pumping gas when he saw the Rottweiler grab his bike, and his friend stand in front of him.

"What's in the backpack, bud? Drugs?" cackled the dog.

"None of your fucking business~ Don't you have some cop boots to lick?" Ronnie hissed.

The Rottweiler's face grew cross and he grabbed the Doberman's arm. Ronnie ripped his arm away and immediately shoved the Rottweiler back, who stumbled into his friend. "The fuck is your problem!?" Ronnie shouted.

"You motherfucker!" his friend yelled. The middle-aged gray wolf swung a punch at Ronnie and missed. The Doberman rebounded and punched the wolf in the face. Ronnie lunged forward, and got struck in the side of the head by a punch from the other biker, a black and rust Doberman. Ronnie fell into his bike and it fell over, spilling gasoline everywhere.

Shoving the Rottweiler to the ground, Ronnie saw the flash of a gun out of the corner of his eye. Jumping around quickly, he grabbed the wolf's arm and knocked the gun to the side, which went off with a loud bang. There were some screams and people ran away from the brawl that was unfolding.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM!" Ronnie screamed, just as he heard multiple gunshots ring out. The wolf immediately let go and dove to the ground, as did Ronnie. Ronnie whipped his head over to where the gunshots came from, and saw none other than Rob Barion. From his red Tahoe blocking the entrance to the UDF, the menacing wolf-hybrid tightly held a submachine gun into his shoulder as he ran forward. Rob was dressed in dark gray slacks, a white dress shirt and dark pink neck tie. An outfit completely out of place.

"Rob!" Ronnie called out.

"Get up! Get up! DROP IT!" Rob screamed. The bikers clearly obliged, and stood up, arms raised up.

"Now what the fuck is the meaning of this!? Ron?" Rob asked loudly.

"These motherfuckers started it!" Ronnie shouted. "The fuck is your problem dude!?"

"Look at that, cops wanna act like bikers..." Rob chuckled. "Deputy Maxwell."

"Guilty as charged..." the Rottweiler grimaced.

Ronnie fumbled his brow in confusion. He looked at his captured gun and noticed that it was a forty caliber Smith and Wesson M&P, which was proudly engraved with the logo of the Licking County Sheriff's Office. He quickly took a picture of that, and a picture of the bikers standing in terror at Rob. Rob's face was unflinching and stone cold.

"Ronnie, get your bike ready and head to the office..." Rob told him. "I'll meet you there."

After giving the pistol to Rob, Ronnie quickly filled his bike back up, hopped on, and bolted, roaring away onto the road.

"Get the fuck outta here." Rob motioned with his Swedish-K.

"I want my fucking gun back..." the wolf announced.

"Of you want your service gun back?" Rob asked. He proceeded to pistol whip the wolf across the face with his own gun, which knocked him to the ground. Rob dropped the magazine and threw the pistol far away. He walked backwards to his Tahoe with his gun still aimed at them before hopping back into his red SUV and peeling out.

---

"So let me get this straight. You pulled into the UDF on Hudson and Fourth, and these three bikers, who happen to be members of the Licking County Sheriff's Department, started harassing you and it turned into a fight. Is that correct?" Lisa asked over speakerphone.

"Yes!" Ronnie exclaimed. "That's exactly what happened!"

"Lisa, I know exactly what they're trying to do." Rob said as he walked around his desk, cleaning his submachine gun. "They were trying to goad Ronnie into a fight, in the typical Sheriff bullshit, to escalate situation, so they can get their fellow buddies to swoop in and pinch Ronno here on something stupid."

"You think so, Rob?"

"Heh, I know so." Rob quipped. "And there's nothing more pathetic than watching cops act like supposed tough guys with their silly little biker cuts and shit like that."

"They're trying to goad me into fucking up, Lisa." Ronnie explained. "Jesus Christ..."

"That sounds about right..." Lisa acknowledged. "Well, I have called over to the UDF and I requested access to the security camera footage, and I will hold that in your pending file."

"I can't believe this shit, Lisa. I got a huge target on my back..." the Doberman grunted.

"Hang in there, Ron. And if the cops pull you in for questioning, you're not answering anything until I am there. Got it?"

"Got it."

"And Rob? Can you STOP pistol whipping law enforcement!" Lisa shouted with a laugh.

"Can they stop being turds?"

"Now Rob, you know you can't polish a turd..."

"Yeah, they smear." Rob chuckled. Even Ronnie had a laugh with Lisa on the other end at his remark.

"Alright, well if anything else pops up, just gimme a shout, Ron."

"Thanks Lisa, I appreciate it."

"No problem."

Rob reached over and ended the call on his phone.

"Rob, you just waltzed on into that fight like John Wayne~" Ronnie remarked.

"Yeah, I did." Rob nodded. He put the last piece back together on his Swedish-K, and rocked the charging handle a few times before stowing it away in its case. "Never bring a knife to a gunfight."

"Noted~"

"So you were just minding your business at the pump and they just started shit?"

"Yeah! Completely unprovoked." Ronnie rolled his eyes. "Knocked my fucking bike over and got gas all over everything..."

"Could be worse." Rob shrugged.

"How do you know Deputy Maxwell?"

"Well he's one of the clowns who I had to deal with in regards to my nephew getting beat up by a member of the L-C-S-O Ministerium fur Staatssicherheit~"

Ronnie looked puzzled at Rob's outburst of German. "God, I'm so... I don't even have the words for it."

"That my audio stuff and payment from Varg?" Rob asked, pointing to the backpack.

"Yeah! It's not damaged. I checked it over."

Rob casually glanced at the audiotape packaging and paperwork, which he quickly carried over to his desk to set down. "Good thing those fucks didn't damage these, or I'd be really pissed. You don't want to see Rob when he's very upset..."

"And that wasn't scary?" Ronnie sarcastically quipped. Rob just glared at him slightly with a sarcastically raised brow.

"You want to grab lunch, Ron?" Rob asked. "My treat."

"Sure~"

After dropping off the tapes to the studio, Rob and Ronnie exited through the back door where Rob's Tahoe was parked at in the parking lot. As they walked towards it, Ronnie saw two cruisers of the LCSO come screeching in, followed by Newark Police. Ronnie just groaned as Rob put himself in front of his friend.

"Hey I want to talk to your friend here!" the deputy pointed.

"Yeah? Got a warrant?"

"Well, no?"

"Then you can go fuck all the way off! And you can tell that spineless, no good, motherfucking wannabe biker, Deputy Maxwell, that he can go fuck himself!"

Ronnie stood and watched Rob just aggressively handle the whole situation. Ronnie thought of himself as a tough guy, but Rob was just a league of his own. Nothing scared him. He held his ground and argued with the cops for a solid five minutes, before convincing them to go speak to Lisa about the incident. A bunch of disappointed cops got back into vehicles and departed.

"Fucking worthless bullies with unions..." Rob grumbled as he motioned for Ronnie to come join him in his SUV.

---

Ronnie watched the waitress place a club sandwich with fries down in front of him with a bottle of ketchup. Sitting with Rob at a window seat to a small eatery at the intersection of fourth and Hudson, Ronnie glanced around at the lunchtime crowd. Rob got a hamburger with fries, which he slowly bit into as he peered off into the distance outside the window.

"Hey Rob, I just wanted to run by you- so you're aware that the guys are gonna fly in on the last weekend Don and Todd are at my place, and then all of them are flying back to Chicago, when they leave."

"Yeah."

"Well I was wondering if you had an opening in the flight schedule to where I could make a trip to see my Mom and Uncle in the next couple of weeks?"

"What day and time."

"Well me and Colty would like to leave Saturday morning and come back Sunday evening."

"I can make that arranged. You can fly on the Convair." Rob offered.

"Sweet! I appreciate it." Smiled Ronnie as he nibbled on a fry. "And...god... I hate to ask a favor from you again because you've helped me tremendously over the past year."

"Yeah, and what's that?"

Ronnie pursed his lips in apprehension. "Look, my Grandma isn't doing very well... and I think she doesn't have long to live... and Mom said something about wanting to find a place to be closer to me... and I don't think I have the funds to buy a home on my own."

"Find a place, and get back to me, and I'll give you the funding~" Rob calmly said before sipping on his glass of Pepsi. "To help you in your quest, there's two places for sale in the Krebs Addition- one on Euclid, and one on South Saratoga. Both are small to medium sized homes."

"Oh really? I'll have to look at those~" Ronnie nodded. "Rob, I don't know how to repay you and your generosity!"

"You can repay me by doing me a favor." Rob said with a chuckle. "I got a flight going to Texas to pick up some old video gear, and we need an extra hand, so you and your son could tag along and help us move some gear and load it up to bring back here. I ran it by Varg and he's cool with loaning you out for a day~"

"Oh cool~ Uhh, when's that?"

"Next Wednesday."

"I'll be there!"

"Seven o'clock is the flight departure time~"

"Noted~"

"You'll be back in the evening." Rob assured. "That's the itinerary."

"Rob... you're many things to many people."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

"You've always come to my aid, especially when I lost everything, and you didn't even know me! Why?" Ronnie asked curiously as he sipped on his drink. "Why did you do all that?"

Rob shrugged. "I believe in you. I thought you were genuine and honest with me, Varg, and Mav when we met you in Chicago. I thought you had a great talent that was going to waste, and why not? When you have the wealth like I have, it doesn't hurt to help people, especially when the system in this country is so stacked against everyone..."

"Yeah about that..." the Doberman grumbled.

"People don't realize how fucked up this country is when you think about it." Rob remarked with a sarcastic tone. "You have an entire system that just doesn't work- our legal system, our political system, our education, healthcare... everything... everything is a colossal clusterfuck because we chose to monetize everything. We're slipping further and further behind, people are getting poorer, and the rich are getting richer. Do you not realize how many tax loopholes I can exploit if I really was an unscrupulous prick? I can write off charity through taxes and get quite a bit of it back. And NO I don't do charity for that reason!"

Ronnie jokingly raised his paws up defensively.

"It just... boggles my mind that we say that's okay to all this. We let nine judges decide the constitutionality of this nation with no oversight, nothing. Just a paw on the bible and a promise. That's it!? And then you think about laws and the judiciary? What's the point of laws if the judiciary can just say 'fuck it' and dismiss charges, or not bring evidence forward, and just let people walk, despite breaking laws. What's the point? A technicality? Or that if you have enough money for a good legal team, you can mitigate the damage, verses poor people who are fucked with public defense attorneys who know the system is already stacked against them? Or that our law enforcement acts increasingly like a gang, but with state sanction and a giant fucking union to back them up?"

"That's what drives me nuts about this whole situation... Here they call me a gang member because of my colors, and yet they're the ones also acting like a gang, copying our looks, all that shit." Ronnie grumbled. "It's hypocritical. I hate it."

"Cops are fucking useless anyways." Rob hissed. "All the wrong people go into law enforcement, and the training is awful, and not enough. And here we are today with all these shootings of unarmed people because cops freaked the fuck out and panicked. It's stupid. But it's okay because they have a badge and officialdom to back 'em up."

Ronnie chuckled and just shook his head.

"I just don't understand..." Rob shook his head. "People keep doing the same political shit over and over, and they keep acting surprised that it's not working. And the increasing divide between liberals and conservatives keeps creating this awful whiplash that doesn't fucking govern. You got Democrats more interested in pronouns and making sure we don't offend anyone, while Republicans are ready to burn this god damn nation down for a bewigged, boiled ham. I just don't get it. I wish people would pull their fucking heads out of their asses and look at the big picture, not this Balkanized shit."

"That's why I don't really care for politics, Rob. It's kind of dumb and kind of become like a sports betting almost?" Ronnie remarked.

"Exactly! Everyone just wants the other side to fail, and maybe for the better for some of the ideas..." Rob rolled his eyes. "Eh, it is what it is. People wanna make their bed like this? Well I hope they like laying in it..."

Ronnie smirked a bit. "Rob... you're very observant and knowledgeable. You know, I feel like not many people know the real Rob, that you don't let people know that."

"Yeah, it's true. It's best they don't know." Rob responded in a monotone way. "Distance is key."

"Ah~"

---

After lunch, Ronnie made his way back to the recording studio on the east side. Roaring through the downtown and trying to maintain a low profile, Ronnie made a right turn for the onramp and began the descent towards Route 16. He merged into the lane and maintained his acceleration as his loud exhaust resonated against the concrete barricade.

There was a roar behind him, like a motorcycle revving near the bridge. Ronnie glanced back and saw a biker racing towards him in the left lane, riding a dark brown Indian. The driver wore all black leathers, and jutting out from under his helmet was flowing black hair that fluttered in the slipstream. Dark goggles covered the red Doberman's eyes. Ronnie momentarily scrutinized the figure as he blew on past. He recognized the Indian as the same bike he saw almost a month or so ago at the gas station. Its owner superficially resembled him. Ronnie put two and two together and pondered if this was the person causing him so much trouble?

The biker glanced over at Ronnie for a split second. He had a goatee of black hair that was neatly trimmed. That's all that Ronnie saw before he blew by. A backpack was strapped around his backside. Something deep inside compelled Ronnie to follow him, and he opened the throttle to begin closing the gap. He followed the bike along Route 16, which weaved between the slower cars. Ronnie had to do the same to keep up. This guy was good on his bike. Ronnie passed by his workplace, and continued following him as the Marne Road intersection came into view. Ronnie had to slam his brakes on for a car that abruptly stood on its brakes, and he lost view of his doppelganger. As he came to the red light, the bike was gone. Ronnie was unsure if he turned left or right.

Giving up his pursuit, Ronnie turned right to head back to work. Taking the back way back to the basket, Ronnie made it about a quarter mile, before he got pulled over by a Newark cop. And sure enough, to his annoyance, he was questioned about a crime that had just happened, an apparent drug overdose that was reported. Ronnie just rolled his eyes as he was patted down and his bike searched again. "What a day."

---

Roaring out of the Harley Dealership in Columbus, Ronnie and Colt sat atop Ronnie's "lead sled", his bright red and black Fat Boy. Adorned with the HA's death head insignia on the gas tank, the imposing motorcycle had a deep throaty roar from its huge chrome pipes. Following not far behind in the turn was Don and Todd in Ronnie's blue Civic. Don drove the little Honda as they hopped onto I-70 to head back to Newark after picking up his freshly repaired Fatboy.

"Dad! It's nice to ride on this bike!" Colt exclaimed.

"Yeah! Till it breaks down again." Ronnie laughed over the slipstream. He turned on the radio and cranked up the volume to listen to one of their new songs play on a national station. It was one of the singles that they had released for the Hellraiser album. After the song, the announcer talked about the band's comeback, and his interview with Adam and Colt Janssen back in Chicago, the two of them talking about their ambitions with the band, and their hopes for a comeback. Ronnie really hoped the best for the album, which was still doing a bit slow after its release.

Returning to Newark, Ronnie's arrival on his bike stirred the FBI's interest. Hidden in their inconspicuous camper on Moull Street, Ronnie's new Fatboy got a fury of photographs taken as they drove by. Ronnie parked it in the gravel on his side yard and hopped off to help his son get down. Don and Todd soon parked behind them, and the feds watched as they all went inside. Then all was quiet once again in Jefferson Woods.

Colt sat in the recliner listening to Todd and Don practice their singles while Ronnie sang at his desk. Todd played his red and black guitar on the couch while Don drummed on his drum set he brought along with him. While Ronnie sang, he went through paperwork regarding a home purchase bid for his Mom. A big stack of legalese sat in front of him as he went through it, signed his name and initials, and provided a check with a down payment. Rob would provide the rest once the bid was finalized and approved.

"Man, my mind feels overloaded." Todd chuckled as he sat his guitar down and took a break. "I've learned so much shit the past two weeks..."

"My mind too man..." Don grimaced. "Reichsfuhrer Rob wants us to learn so much."

"You made a deal with the devil." Ronnie teased with a smirk.

"I'll take my brain melting over the shit I had to deal with at that damn Harley dealership!" Todd exclaimed. "Me getting yelled at because people don't wanna buy a bike with interest rates so fucking high!"

"It's all your fault, Todd~" Don grinned.

"Yeah, I know. Apparently I'm the damn federal reserve now." Todd rolled his eyes.

"When I worked at the dealership, I didn't have any help, and they'd bitch that I wasn't fast enough! I got five fucking cars to work on and nobody to help take pressure off me? Like c'mon."

"'Merica!" Ronnie laughed.

"At least we don't have the feds breathing down our necks..." Don teased as he grinned at Ronnie.

"That's oddly specific..." Ronnie chuckled cynically. "Lord... what the fuck am I gonna do about it..."

"Show them they're wrong!" Colt exclaimed as a suggestion.

"Someday." Ronnie laughed. "Someday they'll get egg on their face."

"They'll get something alright..." Todd chuckled. He looked over to Don pretending to jerk off and shoot with a snicker.

"Hopefully I won't get egg on my face with the red sled..." Ronnie grimaced. "I've only had that thing in the shop enough times for shit breaking on it!"

"It's that Harley build quality!" Todd snorted. "Dude, the amount of shit I've seen on these bikes..."

"Big Red Machine should have embraced the Jap bikes when they had the chance... but nooooooo...." Don rolled his eyes.

"Always something." Ronnie chuckled as he looked over his paperwork. "It's always something."

---

Punching through the choking smoke emerged "Coneflower", on short final to the runway at Newark-Heath. With four radials burbling away, the polished Super Constellation descended in slightly nose down, its roaring propellers shattering the morning calm. Right at nine o'clock the propliner touched down on the runway, bringing Ronnie's bandmates and friends to Newark for the weekend. Waiting at the fence with his friends, boyfriend, and son, Ronnie leaned against the perimeter fence watching the Lockheed turn around and taxi onto the ramp with its inboard radials.

Security opened the perimeter fence for them, and they walked onto the tarmac after the engines were shut down. The airstair was wheeled over to the rear hatch, and Ronnie stood with everyone at the base waiting for the hatch to open. After a minute, the door swung open to reveal the flight crew, who climbed out first to inspect the aircraft. Then finally came Adam Stein, who poked his head out first.

"Hey! You didn't die!" Don laughed.

"No sir!" Adam yelled. The black and rust Doberman ran down the steps first, his long wavy black hair bouncing behind his head, followed by Killian Halen, and Colt Janssen. Killian was a big black and gray malamute with a reddish-brown ponytail of long hair that was capped by a red and white baseball cap. Colt Janssen was a slender white Arctic wolf, with deep blue eyes and coal black hair that fluttered with his movements.

"Welcome to N'erk!" Talon greeted with a smirk. Everyone gave each other a hug, and Adam, Killian, and Colt gave Ronnie's son a warm hug as well.

"Hi Big Colt!" Colt grinned.

"Hello lil' man! How's Lil' Colt?" the Arctic wolf asked with a friendly tone and a smile.

"Fine! Well... almost fine!" the young Dober giggled.

"You causin' trouble for your Dad?" teased the wolf.

"No, no! Someone else is!"

"Yeah, I heard about that."

"What's this about the feds and all that shit?" Killian asked with a chuckle. "Ronnie's trying to do his own Jailhouse Rock!"

"I don't know about that!" Ronnie laughed with everyone.

"You getting any hot chicks to bang here, huh, Don?" Colt teased as he playfully shoved Don.

"Oh god, hell no." the malamute grimaced. "There was one pretty chick- she was pretty fuckin' hot until she smiled at me and half her teeth were gone!"

"Ha, you got to meet Newark's very own Martha Meth!" Talon teased with a big grin.

"Crack kills, dude." Colt chuckled.

"You should tell Newark that~" Talon snorted. "Or my ex."

"Oh boy..." Ronnie chuckled.

Following a few minutes behind "Coneflower" arrived a bulbous Boeing Stratofreighter, the bare metal C-97 descending in with the rumble of its smoky radial engines. A cargo flight, "The Silver Bullet Express" touched down on the centerline, carrying everyone's motorcycles, along with a cache of spare parts that were due for overhaul from Rob's Chicago facilities. The double-lobed Boeing taxied onto the ramp, turned, and parked as its radial engines fell silent. Everyone stood around and chatted as ground crew secured the plane and began unloading the cargo. A forklift was used to remove the palletized bikes, which were strapped down on pallets for the trip.

Roaring out of Newark-Heath was Ronnie and his son on the "lead sled", followed by Killian and his red and chrome Heritage Classic, Colt and Don and their chromed custom choppers, Adam and his red and black Street Bob, and Todd and his black Low Rider ST. The menacing roar of their bikes turned heads all around as the gaggle of Hells Angels made their way back to Ronnie's place. Bringing up the rear was Talon and his truck, hauling all their luggage and gear. A few minutes later, emerging through the smog was the gray Bell helicopter, its federal agents peering down and monitoring their subjects as they traveled on Route 79.

Returning to Ronnie's place briefly, everyone grabbed their gear and went to Ronnie's workplace to work on some music. Setting up in the recording studio with the aid of Varg, the group of six got to work practicing and recording the two singles that they wanted to create, a cover of The Tubes' "She's a Beauty", sung by Killian, and Three Dog Night's "Black and White", sung by Ronnie. They practiced a bit, got their sound down right, and recorded two takes to tape. Ronnie enjoyed the process, being with his friends again. For the few hours in the studio, his problems with the feds disappeared in the euphoria of happiness.

---

Keeping pace high over I-77, the gray Bell helicopter droned northward, watching their suspect lead the way towards Akron. Strapped in at the open hatch, an FBI Agent peered down, watching through his camera as he took pictures of Ronnie and his son, riding on the "lead sled", with his friends all in close formation on the interstate. They were enroute to Akron, to meet up later with Rob and his video team, who were coming to help them shoot an impromptu performance at the clubhouse. Ronnie glanced back at the anonymous helicopter shadowing him, and beneath his dark tinted goggles, he just rolled his eyes at his shadow.

Roaring into Akron, Ronnie and his friends arrived by the late afternoon to the Hells Angels clubhouse on Howard Street. They met with all their fellow Angels and hung out together, as the prospects did the grunt work of setting up for a party. Ronnie and his friends stood with the club president and vice-president, joking and having a good time as some kids played together at the basketball hoop.

Colt grabbed the ball and ran past a friend of his to try and throw the ball, only for it to bounce off the rim and into the paws of a burly malamute biker. Colt turned around to look up at the imposing looking, tattooed up gray and white malamute, who was shirtless save for his open denim vest. Tousled black hair fluttered in the breeze and snug fingerless leather gloves griped the basketball tightly.

"Hi Bluto!" the young Dobie grinned.

"I heard you had a run-in with the coppers!" the big malamute announced. "They broke some of your toys I hear..."

"Yeah..." Colt frowned.

"Well ole' Bluto has something for ya!" the malamute announced as he reached into his vest to pull out a boxed action figure, which brought a big smile to Colt's face.

"Yay! Thank you!" Colt exclaimed as he gave Bluto a hug. The biker laughed and put his arm around Colt for a one-armed hug and a pat on the head. He joined the kids in playing some basketball and showing Colt some tricks with the ball.

The sight of Colt having a good time brought a chuckle to Ronnie as he watched them briefly, before turning back to his conversation with Wild Hog and his friends.

"We're hoping to try and promote Hellraiser, but it's been hard, ya know." Killian admitted. "Ronnie's now in Ohio, and we all have jobs and the club shit to do, and Ronnie's legal issues now..."

"Yeah don't remind me." Ronnie shook his head with a sardonic snicker. "I had my shadow follow us all the way to Akron."

"You're still getting harassed?" Wild Hog asked.

"Yes..." Ronnie grumbled as he closed his eyes and shook his head. "I get questioned all the time by cops about everything that happens in Newark... Hell, someone could slip on a fucking banana peel and I'd get hauled in..."

"You couldn't make this shit up..." Todd laughed. "We're all getting stalked by the feds. We were training at the airport and they came asking us questions."

"Well don't feel bad, the feds came here asking us shit too." Wild Hog admitted.

"Oh god..." Ronnie groaned.

"I mean, there's nothing to say. Ronnie don't do that shit."

"I mean you can't make this shit up. Someone who supposedly looks like me is causing a bunch of drug overdoses, assaults, all this shit, and I'm the one getting harassed. What the flying fuck?"

"That's how it always works." Wild Hog chuckled. The black wolf pointed at Ronnie's patches. "Cops look at that first before anything else because we're low hangin' fruit for them."

Don chuckled. "Of all the other things I've seen in Newark... the burned out druggies wandering about, the epidemic of homeless people..."

"...the prostitutes on Route thirteen..." Todd added.

"Again, low hangin' fruit. Us." Wild Hog laughed.

"No shit." Ronnie chuckled. "It's starting to get old. Fast."

"Well that's why you're here!" the vice-president exclaimed, the middle-aged brown wolf putting an arm around Ronnie. "Drown your sorrow out in some food and music!"

"Yeah!" Ronnie exclaimed, just as he heard the deep thumping of those rotor blades. "Oh god, here they come..."

Everyone looked skyward at the anonymous gray Bell helicopter orbiting overhead. Ronnie and everyone just flipped the feds off as they made a low pass, the federal agent photographing dozens of bikers flipping him off as he passed by overhead.

---

"Well it's show time~" Ronnie said to Rob, who clutched his old analog camera on his shoulder.

"So just go up there, and do your thing, and we'll capture what we capture on several separate cameras and stitch it all together with the master audio recording." Rob explained in his usual tone. "And we'll give you the digital copy."

"I like that." Ronnie smiled.

"Our specialty~" Rob chuckled. "Let's do this."

Ronnie took a deep breath and ran back over to be with his bandmates on stage as they got ready. Ronnie grabbed his microphone and glanced out at the crowd filling the front lawn of the clubhouse. People, bikers and non-bikers looked excited as they anxiously awaited. Ronnie glanced over at his friends, who got their instruments ready.

"Ready?" Ronnie asked Adam.

"All good to go according to the sound guy."

"Good." Ronnie nodded. "Hey, Akron!"

"YEAH!" everyone cheered.

"You ready to rock with the Hard Times crew?" Ronnie shouted into his mic, a smile lighting up his healing face as people cheered. "Let's go!"

Killian and Todd opened up with their guitars, followed by Don on drums and Colt on his bass. Adam filled in with his keytar as they ripped out their new songs from their Hellraiser album. The crowd cheered and clapped as Ronnie sang his heart out to their fast paced songs. He glanced down and saw his son Colt clapping for him with the other kids, all watched by Bluto the big biker dog. Rob stood directly in front and slightly below him in front of the stage, standing calmly and videotaping with his old HL-791. Ronnie and Killian took turns singing several songs from their album, plus a couple songs from their first two albums and some covers, so everyone could have their turn to sing lead.

At the end of the road, a black Dodge Charger parked, and out emerged Special Agent Dove. The gray wolf donned his sunglasses and glanced over at his partner, Cleveland FBI resident agent, Agent Clark, an imposing looking black and rust Doberman. Both wore blue t-shirts that read "FBI" in bright yellow, with badges placed around their necks.

Dove saw the big party going on in the distance, and cautiously approaching, Dove and Clark stood on the opposite end of the street, slightly out of view by some shrubs and a big maple tree covering them in shade.

"That's our man." Clark pointed out. "Singing his heart out."

"Our man in Akron..." Dove mumbled as he raised his radio up. "Licking County, forty-five?"

"Forty-five, go, it's Bo."

"Bo, I have my man in my sights here in Akron. He's singing at the Hells Angels clubhouse on Howard Street. What time did that stabbing come in to EMS in Zanesville?"

"About four-forty-five."

"Suspect was at the clubhouse at that time." Dove said. "Bob saw them on the chopper... they were flipping him off."

"Copy that, Dove."

Dove glanced over at Clark and shook his head with a smirk. "Apparently you can be in two places at the same time!"

"New age crime~" Clark joked.

Dove stood and watched Ronnie sing. For a moment, the gray wolf let go of his official duties and just listened to the music. He had to admit that Ronnie had a great singing voice, and looked really into it. Dove also saw Rob standing with his camera, which made the gray wolf just chuckle and shake his head. But something seemed off-kilter to Dove; here was his official suspect he was tasked with monitoring, who always denied any wrongdoing, always had a passable alibi, and the evidence never directly linked to. And here he was in Akron, while someone got stabbed in Zanesville by a biker who matched his description and nothing else. Dove thought about it as he tilted his head a bit observing. Something didn't seem right, the whole thing sat weird to Dove.

---

After a fun filled weekend, and saying goodbye to his bandmates, Ronnie returned home from work to find his house quiet. Stepping inside, Ronnie sat his backpack down on the recliner and glanced around at his living room, finding it so quiet after two weeks of Todd and Don hanging out with him for work training. But now things were back to normal, well as far as normal as Ronnie could get with the feds snooping around constantly. The anonymous trailer parked on the other side of the street just a few houses up and just in view through the window was the annoying reminder of their continued existence in his life.

Running his paws through his long hair, Ronnie walked to the back door and stepped through it to find Colt and his best friend Colby climbing in the big tree in Colby's back yard. Ronnie's sight brought them both down to run over and greet him.

"Hi Dad!" Colt grinned.

"Hi, Ronnie!" Colby waved.

"Hey!" Ronnie exclaimed as he gave Colt a hug. "You stayin' out of trouble lil' man?"

"Mhmm!"

"Heh, good." Ronnie chuckled.

"Hey Ronnie!" waved his neighbor, Mindy Matheson.

"Hey!" Ronnie greeted as he walked up to the fence to see her.

"How was work?"

"Musical~" chuckled the dog jokingly. "Hey Mindy, are you doing anything?"

"No, why?"

"I have to go help my friend Cyrus repair his truck after a near-miss today. Could you watch Colt for a few more hours?"

"Sure!"

"Mindy I really appreciate it, you don't know how much it means to me." Ronnie admitted.

"I love Colty to death, like another son. And he and Colby get along so well, and don't get into destructive adventures like some of Colby's other friends..." the wolfess smiled sarcastically.

"So splashing paint on each other is a bad thing, Mom?"

"Yes, Colby." Mindy smiled.

"Oh boy..." Ronnie chuckled. "The things I did as a kid..."

"Me too." The wolfess laughed. "I'll just go make dinner and Colty can have it with us!"

"I gotta repay you~"

"No worries." Mindy assured.

"And hopefully I don't get asked about the latest crime spree in Newark..." Ronnie grumbled.

"Well Dad hasn't heard of anything on the scanner at this time..." Mindy rolled her eyes.

"Good..." Ronnie grimaced. "I'm getting kind of tired of this!"

"I can imagine! This makes me think about my ex... and that feeling I had of always looking over my shoulder..."

"Yes..." Ronnie grumbled.

After putting his bag away, Ronnie grabbed his toolbox, and placed it into the trunk of his blue Civic. He took off for Hanover, making a point to sarcastically wave to the feds watching him from the trailer. He listened to a burned CD with the two new singles they had made. Both did not sound like a typical Hard Times song; "Black and White" followed the theme of the Three Dog Night version, but with their own little addendums, including a recording of their children and their friends singing the chorus at the end of the song. Ronnie sang that song, and he liked how his voice sounded. "She's a Beauty" had Killian's singing lead. He had a really smooth voice that was powerful where it needed to be. They all sang on a higher note in the background, with a rich electronic synth of Adam mixing with the hard rock of Todd and Killian. Don's drumming was fantastic. It was music to Ronnie's ears as he drove. It was an interesting take on two old songs.

Ronnie arrived at Cyrus Filton's home, out in the countryside. Nestled in a quiet patch of woodland was Cy's old farm home, sheathed in cedar siding. The afternoon sun was hidden behind the canopy of trees, casting a cooling shade to work on Cy's white Sierra one-ton. As he hopped out of his Civic to go fetch his toolbox, Ronnie wrote a text to his boyfriend, telling him to come over after he got off work.

"Hey! You didn't get arrested!" came Cyrus from his garage. Cyrus was a big, well built blonde and tan wolf, with the reddest hair imaginable, braided into a Viking style ponytail and covered up by a dark blue bandana. Cheerful blue eyes were hidden behind polarized shades, and the tattooed up wolf wore a blue tanktop with dark gray shorts.

"A new milestone!" Ronnie laughed as Cyrus gave him a burly hug.

"So let's see what the damage is."

Ronnie and Cy worked in the shade, replacing the CV joint and the shock and struts to the front right wheel of the aging Sierra.

"I was just minding my business heading back to the office, when this fucking bimbo suddenly went left of center in her giant ass Ford Excursion, and I had no choice but to swerve to avoid a head-on hit!" Cyrus exclaimed. "That tire hit this huge ass pothole and I knew it fucked shit up because it was a HARD hit and the truck violently bucked and the steering wheel started vibrating badly after that."

"That rim and tire are fucked too..." Ronnie pointed. "Honestly I'm amazed you limped it home since this was in bad shape..."

"Heh, when you're good, you're good~" the wolf grinned jokingly.

"Oh my god..." Ronnie laughed. "Now you sound like Talon."

"Heh, I only dated him!" Cyrus laughed.

"He'll be over after work."

"Which means forever, because of the dingleberries he's got for landscapers."

"Quit stealing all the good workers!" Ronnie teased.

"I can't help it! I'm charismatic!" Cyrus laughed. "And it's the red hair!"

"...It is very red."

"Yes!"

Ronnie used the pneumatic torque gun to secure the last bolt in place, which he checked by giving the joint a smack with his paw. "That should do it."

"I got a replacement rim in the garage. I got parts for this truck to keep it going for years!" Cyrus explained.

"Why not get a new truck?"

"This one's my baby. We've been through a lot." Cyrus pointed out. "Almost three-hundred thousand on the frame! Very little rust and everything works inside. Just little battle scars here and there. So I'll just tow it over my shop and I got six new Firestones ordered for it."

"Yeah, the shocks and everything are good to go." Ronnie said as he looked at his greasy, oily paws. "I need to get a shower..."

Cyrus chuckled and put his beefy arms around his friend to pull him close. "Maybe I can help you get cleaned up in the shower..."

"I wouldn't say no." Ronnie smiled as he turned around to get a kiss from his friend.

"Good." Cyrus grinned, as Ronnie gave him a kiss in return.

"God I'm gonna be sore tomorrow~" Ronnie joked as he walked with Cy back to the house, the big wolf having an arm draped around him.

---

Emerging from the shower, Talon heard the doorbell ring, an unusual event for such an early morning. Walking downstairs in his boxers and black tanktop that clung to his beefy frame, the red Doberman walked up and answered the door, to be greeted by two FBI agents dressed formally in dark blue suits. Both held up shiny badges.

"I'm Special Agent Casper." Announced a gray wolf.

"I'm Special Agent Donahue, Federal Bureau of Investigations." Announced a brown and white beagle.

"Good morning, how can I help you?" Talon asked, looking uninterested.

"We would like to know about your partner's activities... What has he been up to lately?" Agent Casper asked in a serious monotone.

"Work? Music?"

"Are you sure about that?" the wolf asked.

The beagle stepped forward. "Mister Bradley, I believe you're lying to us."

"I'm lying? How can you tell?"

Casper held up a printed photo of Ronnie getting a kiss from Cyrus. He handed it to Talon who stared at it with a look of disbelief that the feds would do something as far as photographing his boyfriend in an intimate moment.

The beagle pointed at it. "Why would you protect a partner who would do this to you, Mister Bradley?"

"We want to know everything." Casper chimed in.

Talon looked up at the two agents with a bemused smirk on his face, a look of being gobsmacked. "...is this a joke?"

The two agents looked at each other and then back at Talon.

"That's my ex-boyfriend, Cyrus, and yes I know Ronnie has sex with him, hell, I do too! We're in a semi-open relationship. If your Stasi agent was sticking around longer in the tree snooping around, you would have seen me come on over, and trust me! I banged both of them!"

The two agents looked floored.

"And I didn't need Viagra to do that 'cause Talon's got big dick energy!" laughed the Doberman. "Ron Samson doesn't do crime, and you got the wrong guy. So unless you have a warrant, I hope you have a nice day..."

"...no, we don't have a warrant..." Casper mumbled as Talon closed the door on them. The two agents turned to walk back to their black Buick.

"I told you this was a bad idea, Dick!" Casper snapped.

Donahue looked dumbfounded. "What do you mean!? You didn't say that!"

"I said it wasn't going to work! They live a different lifestyle than us!"

"You said we should try this!"

"God damnit, Dick."

"Damnit, Casper. This is not my fault!"

---

After shaking off his shadow again, Ronnie and his son rode along with traffic on Route 16, enroute to Hanover for an evening dinner with Talon and his daughter. Traffic was heavier on Route 16, and Ronnie backed off on the throttle of his Dad's Fatboy to let a car merge in from the downtown onramp. Colt held onto his Dad, dressed in his brown leathers and white helmet as he watched traffic pass by.

Traffic thinned out as they departed the highway for Licking Valley Road, into the little village of Hanover. Ronnie went to the single intersection in town and made a right for Talon's landscaping headquarters. A few minutes later, he pulled up to the property of Bradley Landscaping, which was built around an old farm home and its giant restored barn. In the gravel parking lot, Ronnie saw Talon arguing with two of his workers, the infamous Brian and Keith.

"Stay here!" Ronnie said to Colt as he helped his son down off the bike. It was a ferocious argument, as Talon, Brian, and Keith were all screaming at the top of their lungs.

"You have nobody to blame but yourselves!" Talon shouted. "If you showed up and did your fucking jobs right the first time, you wouldn't be let go!"

"What am I supposed to do about money? Every fucking job I get fired from!" the yellow lab yelled.

"Well that sounds like a personal problem, huh, Coconut Head?"

"I've tried so hard and-"

"YOU PUT RED MULCH DOWN WHEN IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE BLACK! AND THE WORK ORDER SAID BLACK!" Talon yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Hey, HEY!" Ronnie shouted. He put himself between his boyfriend and the two screaming workers. The presence of an imposing looking biker shut "Brainiac" and "Coconut Head" up.

"I want you two to leave, or I'm calling police." Talon said in a calmer voice. "I can't have these constant fuckups anymore."

"I'll show you, Talon~" Brian grumbled. The middle-aged looking gray wolf, his face seemingly aged by drug abuse, turned to walk towards his car.

"Okay, Brainiac~" Talon waved.

The disgruntled looking wolf and yellow lab climbed into a beat up gray Toyota sedan, which squealed when turned over. Talon and Ronnie watched as the car lumbered out of the lot, rattling, shaking, and squeaking with each bump. They tried to do a burnout, only for the car to stall, backfire, and lurch down the road, which made Talon laugh.

"Brainiac and Coconut Head, huh?" Ronnie chuckled. Talon just shook his head and grumbled a "yes".

Going back home to Talon's home, Talon got cleaned up, and they all hopped into his truck to go have a dinner picnic at the Woodbury Wildlife Area. Taking a narrow gravel road through the wildlife preserve, Talon came to stop at a small opening, where just revealed in the tree line was an old abandoned coal tipple, a leftover from Coshocton County's coal mining days in the modern preserve. They made their way on a small path to the tipple to throw a blanket down and have dinner in the cool shade.

"So tell me about the FBI..." Ronnie said, bracing for it as he munched on a sub.

Talon rolled his eyes. "I just got out of the shower when they knocked on the door. I went downstairs and there were two FBI agents- all nicely dressed in dark blue suits and ties, and they hold up a photo of you and Cy kissing..."

Ronnie blushed.

"I couldn't believe it. It looked like it was shot with the Hubble Space Telescope... just perfectly framed up and in focus. And one of the agents was like 'why would you protect a partner that would do this to you...' and I had to break it to them, that I banged both of you!"

"Oh boy..." Ronnie remarked with a snicker at the end. "Oh my god..."

"I told them unless they had a warrant the conversation was over. And I closed the door and they left." Talon concluded. "I really hope they find the bastard..."

"This is getting really old, really fast..." Ronnie grumbled. "Helicopters, unmarked cruisers, people who look like they're jogging, constantly, past my house... and now people in trees taking pictures..."

"Gotta stop doing all these crimes..." Talon chuckled with a smirk before taking a sip of a can of Sprite.

"Yeah, I should." Ronnie laughed sardonically as he popped the tab on a Pepsi. "I need a beer~"

"I need tequila." Talon snorted.

"Hey Dad! Me and Colty want to go see the wildflowers over there!" Emily pointed.

"Okay! Just don't go too far!" Talon said as Emily and Colt ran off down the path to go see wildflowers swaying in the field.

Ronnie sat the empty can by the picnic basket, stretched and leaned into Talon, who put his arms around him and smiled.

"This year has been crazy." Ronnie remarked.

"That's an understatement~"

"But maybe that seems fitting when you live a crazy life like mine~" the Doberman chuckled amusingly.

"Crazy life?" Talon asked. "I knew a girl like that~"

"Oh I'm sure you did..." Ronnie teased. "But I mean, yeah! Crazy life. Like I feel like I live this weird... double... no... triple life. I'm a biker to one of the most infamous motorcycle clubs in the world, I'm a father, and I'm an almost openly bi dude who also happens to have a band of other biker dudes like me. I don't think I've seen anyone else like that before."

"Neither have I~" Talon smiled. "That's what makes you special. I've had various girlfriends and boyfriends in the past, and you're just special."

"Why? Because I haven't tried killing you?"

"Yet." Talon laughed with a grin. "You're just honest with yourself."

"I'm just me, Talon." Ronnie shrugged. "That's how I've always been. Just me. You know people act intimidated and scared of me when they see me roll in with my colors on, when I'm not a violent motherfucker unless you want to see that. I'm in a community where to be openly bi is not accepted by a lot of guys, and yet, when I've tried to be openly bi in Boystown, people just wanna be a caddy lil' bitch and throw shade that I'm not gay enough, or liberal enough, or basically whatever they can find to bitch about."

"I remember being told I'm... too rural." Talon remarked. "I remember a gay dude telling me after we hooked up that he didn't feel any chemistry with me because I was too rural, whatever that means. Or that I wasn't a twink, or a bear, or basically just weird shit."

"I think you're a stud~"

Talon just grinned and wagged a finger in agreement.

"My Dad would have liked you." Ronnie chuckled. "I remember being in high school, and I had my first boyfriend after I came out. Brian was his name, and he was at first dead scared of my Dad, because my Dad was an imposing man, but so nice. Dave really liked him. Brian was funny and sweet, and he always wanted to be a dancer, and when that time came to go to a school in Florida for dance, we had to break up. But he was special. He knew I was destined to be a biker, and I don't think it would have worked regardless unfortunately because of that. And with our relationship, some guys in the club know, my friends know, but not everyone needs to know."

"And that's fine, because I don't live for other people's opinions." Talon laughed. "When you're almost forty, you just don't give a shit anymore."

"I can tell!" Ronnie laughed.

"When you've had an ex that tried to kill you and your daughter, and a sister who sold a car for a twenty dollar hit of crack! You just lose hope for society." Talon smirked.

"Crazy times." Ronnie remarked with a chuckle.

"Crazy won't die, trust me." The Doberman grinned. "My ex smashed into a state highway patrol cruiser at a hundred miles an hour and lived, and Allison could be brought back from the dead five times in the hospital, and get as much Narcan as half the state of Ohio, and be unaffected. Crazy will not die!"

"Oh boy..." Ronnie grimaced jokingly.

"That's what I love about you, because you're-"

"Not insane?"

"Yes! And you're a nice guy." Talon smiled. Ronnie smiled back at him.

"Well thanks Talon, at least-"

The sound of a tree limb cracking got Ronnie's attention, just as he heard a man yell and a terrible crash, followed by the screams of Colt and Emily. Rushing up to his feet, Ronnie and Talon ran to their screams, as they saw Colt and Emily running back towards them.

Lying on the ground was a large branch from a maple tree, and an FBI agent, lying with two clearly broken legs. A busted camera laid beside him. The middle-aged gray wolf looked to be in shock from the crippling pain, and both his legs were twisted and folded back in a gruesome sight.

"Oh god!" Ronnie shouted.

"Bill! Bill! Hold on! I'm coming down- WHOA! SHIT!"

With a mighty crash, Ronnie and Talon jumped back to another tree limb falling, followed by another FBI agent smashing into the wolf. With a terrible smash, the other agent landed hard on his shoulder and immediately cried out in immense pain with the wolf who wailed in a blood curdling scream.

"BOB!" screamed the wolf.

"OH FUCK MY SHOULDER!"

"OH FUCK." Talon shouted. "Emily! Colty! Come here!"

"Call for help!" Ronnie shouted.

"Shit I got no signal out here!" Talon exclaimed.

"Go get help! I'll stay back here!" Ronnie exclaimed.

"Okay!"

"Daddy I'm coming with you!" Emily screamed.

"It's okay! It's okay! You two come with me!" Talon exclaimed.

"Dad!" Colt called out.

"Colty! Go with Talon!" Ronnie motioned. "Go! Go!"

"Okay!"

Talon ran back to his truck with the kids, and Ronnie heard the truck pull out with the clinking of gravel. Taking charge of the situation, Ronnie tried his best to tend to the two severely injured agents, but without any medical gear, or training, Ronnie felt pretty powerless to help his shadows.

"I want you to look right at me, no, no! Just look at me!" Ronnie said as he tried to calm the wolf lying on his back. Ronnie was afraid that he would go into an even worse shock if he saw how badly broken his legs were. The Doberman tried his best to keep both of them from losing consciousness as time felt like it stood still.

There was the distinctive deep "thump-thump-thump" of those distinctive rotors, and Ronnie glanced up at the gray Bell helicopter arriving. The helicopter passed overhead, turned around and descended in for a landing on a big circle of crushed coal, the rotors kicking up a sooty cloud of coal dust. Multiple FBI agents hopped out and ran over to assess the situation and radio for help. Ronnie stepped back and watched the scene unfold.

"I'd like to ask you some questions about this incident..." came the voice of an FBI agent.

"Oh boy."

By sundown, Ronnie was on his way home. The two FBI agents were flown out by helicopter, and Ronnie was spent being questioned for hours by the FBI over what had happened, including questions to Talon and the kids. Ronnie sat in the front seat of Talon's truck, his arms folded up, as he sat and thought about what had happened. He was really getting tired of the feds constantly stalking him, and to see Emily and Colt be so scared, really upset him. Ronnie felt backed into a corner by being investigated for a crime he didn't do. He felt like every aspect of his life was being scrutinized.

---

As the first rays of dawn gently filtered into his bedroom, Ronnie was sound asleep, half covered by his dark gray blanket. Messy hair was strewn around his face as he slept on his back. His mind was adrift in his dream world, and Ronnie dreamed about his late father and grandfather on the day he was fully patched into the club.

Taking him ten years prior, Ronnie celebrated the day the club patched him in as a full member of the Harvey chapter of the Hells Angels. Twenty-two year old Ronnie had a beer with all his fellow Angels at the clubhouse, after they all voted to admit him. It was a loud, joyous occasion with music and booze. The twenty-two year old Doberman laughed with his friends and bandmates, Todd, Colt, Killian and his brother Eddy Halen, and Adam, who was still a prospect.

"Dude I'm so excited." Ronnie said to Todd. "You don't believe it."

"I remember when I got my last patch dude, it was a great fuckin' day~" Todd recalled with a sarcastic raise of his beer bottle.

"Do you remember the rest of that day?" Colt asked jokingly.

"...no."

"Fuck yeah!" the Arctic wolf exclaimed.

Ronnie finished the last of his beer and walked over to throw it away in the trash. Finding the clubhouse a bit sticky, he went outside to get some fresh air. Under the glow of the streetlights, Ronnie leaned against the light pole and enjoyed the cool spring air blow against him. The sound of the clubhouse door opening and closing got his attention, as he saw his father and grandfather step out. Dave and Larry Samson calmly stepped out and Dave closed the door behind him.

Larry was an elderly red Doberman in his early eighties, his face wrinkled with age and some white coloring his muzzle around his nose. He wore a baseball cap that covered his almost white hair, and had a denim vest on with his patches from the New York Chapter. Dave, a big black and rust Doberman in his early fifties, wore a leather vest like Ronnie's over his t-shirt. Long black hair that was mostly gray now was tied into a ponytail.

"Well Ronald, how do you feel?" Larry asked his grandson.

"Like a dream. I can't believe it, Grandpa." Ronnie smiled happily.

"Good." Larry smiled. "You've achieved something few men could ever do."

"Think of all the thousands of guys who'd dream of being a Hells Angel, and how few actually make it." Dave recalled. "And you did it on your own."

"Well it helps to have a Dad and Grandpa in the club..." Ronnie chuckled.

"No, no. You earned it." Larry said. "I didn't say anything to the club saying you should do or not do. You earned it, Ronald."

"Same here. I just said you'd be perfect, and I let your talents shine."

"About as good as making those toilets shine." Ronnie laughed. "Bitch work!"

"Ha, yeah." Dave chuckled. "I remember those days... that was a long time ago."

"Try forty-four years, Dave!" Larry exclaimed. "I wanna tell you something here, Ronald."

"Okay, Grandpa."

"You have just been bestowed a tremendous honor today. A tremendous responsibility has just been placed into your lap with that last patch. You are now a member of a motorcycle club that bestows tremendous emotions- love, fear, hate, and lots of government harassment!"

"Oh I get it, Grandpa." Ronnie nodded.

"But I want to remind you something very important, Ronald. People think that when you come into this club, that you have to be violent, or a criminal, or do criminal shit, like that's some kind of living life to its fullest, or making money, malarkey. Well it's not, Ronald. You have a very smart mind, and I don't want you falling victim to that mentality because you're gonna find guys who are into that shady shit."

"I want you to stay far away from it." Dave pointed.

"I've been a Hells Angel for forty-four years, and I was an Aliens member before we patched over to red and white in sixty-nine. I have never once been involved in any of that shit, and I was there when it was at its peak! Drugs, guns, prostitutes, murder, I've seen and heard it all. But I never did that shit, because I had too much to lose. And you do too. You are now in the best years of your life, and I don't want to see you fuck it up going down that path." Larry pleaded.

"There's two ways of making money for the club, Ronnie. You got the easy way, like these fuckheads, who dabble in drugs, money, hookers, or you do what me and your grandpa did, the long road, where it pays off in time." Dave explained. "Do something good with your life."

"I always coordinated parties, concerts, music, I made money that way. Legitimately, 'cause I don't need to give the feds any more ammo than what they already got against us!" Larry pointed out. "You and your friends inside with that new band of yours, have a talent that could net you a ton of money legitimately. You have a singing voice that's unmatched. You don't need crime to pay, you just need to sing."

"I get it completely, Grandpa."

"Think about if you have kids in the future. What kind of a Dad do you want to be?" Larry asked. "I was there every day for Dave and Les. I worked my ass off so they could have a future. So think about that. Do you want to end up in prison? Or dead? Because that's what happens when you fuck up."

"I'll be your worst nightmare if you ever get busted doing that shit..." Dave glared. "You're a smart kid, Ronnie. I know you'll do great."

Dave walked over and gave his son a hug. "I love you Ronnie. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Dad. I love you too~"

Larry gave Ronnie a tight hug and a friendly smile. "I never thought I'd live to see my grandson get patched in too. I'm so proud of you."

Ronnie's tired eyes opened up to the growing sunlight filtering into his room. Peeling the blanket off at an angle, Ronnie sat up and thought about his dream. It felt so real, and he missed them deeply now that they were gone.

Trying to adjust the blanket some, he felt some resistance. Glancing over to his left, he saw Colt asleep in his bed, the young Dober lying on his side sound asleep, with a picture book resting beside his head. Ronnie smiled a bit and gently stroked his son's soft brown hair, which stirred him awake.

"Hey, Dad."

"Lil' man, what are you doing in my bed?" Ronnie asked with a chuckle.

Colt yawned and stretched. "I got scared last night in the thunderstorm. I thought someone was trying to break in and take you away, so I wanted to protect you."

Ronnie frowned and saw the sadness in Colt's face. "It's okay, Colty."

"I thought those FBI agents were gonna try and take us again."

"Well I don't think they're gonna be doing anything for a while..."

Ronnie threw his arms open for a hug, and Colt crawled over to hug his Dad tightly. "Everything's gonna be okay, Colty. It's just...a rough time."

"Why are they following us, Dad?"

"Because they think I committed a crime."

"Why?"

"Because someone apparently looks like me is doing it."

"Well you should say something to them!"

"Trust me, I would." Ronnie laughed.

"One more hug!" Colt exclaimed as he hugged his Dad again. Ronnie held Colt in his arms and tried to reassure him that everything was okay.

"Do you and your friends want to go to the pool today?"

"Yeah!" Colt grinned big.

---

Newark's swimming pool was packed on a hot Saturday. At high noon, Ronnie arrived in his Civic with Colt, Emily, and two of their friends, Colby and Braxton. Hopping out, Ronnie grabbed his pool bag, stuffed with towels and some sunscreen, and everyone made their way to the brick building to pay for entry tickets. Ronnie led everyone to a little shaded spot by the fence where he threw down a big towel and the bag.

"Come on kiddos, I'll put some sunscreen on!" Ronnie announced as he grabbed the big bottle of SPF 50. Colt lined up first, and his Dad covered his body in the banana smelling sunscreen.

"Why do you wear sunscreen?" Braxton asked, a young brown wolf with tousled brown hair.

"Well when you're half Danish, you just kinda burn." Ronnie chuckled. "And when you have four thousand dollars worth of tattoos on your body? You don't want to ruin that!"

"Okay!"

Ronnie got Emily and Braxton slathered in sunscreen, and he then doused himself in it. Colt helped his Dad by rubbing it on his tattooed backside. Adjusting his swimming trunks, Ronnie joined the kids in taking a refreshing dip in the cool chlorine smelling water. It was a nice relief as Ronnie played with the kids and swam with them in the shallow end of the pool, until the lifeguards blew the whistle for a twenty minute break.

While Colt swung with his friends on the swing set, Ronnie sat down on the towel in the shade, grabbing a snack from his pool bag. He peeled a banana open and munched on it while reading a text on his phone from Killian. He sat the peel down beside him as he texted a response back.

"Hey, Colty!"

"Yeah, Dad!"

"I'm gonna use the restroom real fast! I want you kids to stay here!"

"Okay!"

Ronnie smiled and turned to walk towards the brick building. As he sent another text to Killian, he tossed the banana peel into the trash can that he passed by before going into the building. He stepped into the men's room for a minute to use the bathroom. As he washed his hands, he heard a faint crashing sound and a growing commotion in the building that perked his curiosity. After washing his paws in the sink, Ronnie stepped out of the men's room to see a huge crowd of people and lifeguards by the exit.

Lying on the ground was a heavy set Labrador, her head bleeding from tripping and striking the step. Ronnie jumped in to help as paramedics were called.

"What happened!? What happened?" Ronnie asked.

"Linda slipped on a banana peel that was lying on the ground!"

"I want to ask you some questions about the banana peel..."

Ronnie looked up to see a Sheriff's Deputy glaring at him. "Witnesses said they saw you eating a banana..."

Ronnie's mouth was slightly agape at what he just heard. He stood up slowly, a blank stare on his face.

"Fuck."

---

After dropping Braxton off at his house, Ronnie took Emily back to Hanover. Arriving at Bradley Supply, the Bradley family business, Ronnie stepped out and walked Emily and Colt inside. He looked kind of glum and upset as he stepped inside.

"Little Emily!" came the happy voice of Phyllis Bradley, the aging matriarch of the family. The eighty-seven year old lady Dober gave her great-granddaughter a tight hug. "Hi Colty and Ronnie!"

"Hello!" Colt waved.

"Hey." Ronnie said in a quiet tone.

"Everything, okay, Ron?"

"I have a terrible headache..." Ronnie admitted. Phyllis made her way back to the counter to grab some Tylenol and a bottle of water from the small fridge. "Here, here!" she said, as Ronnie downed two Tylenol with a swig of water.

"Thanks."

"Is everything okay?" Phyllis asked again.

"Ronnie got in trouble with the Sheriff's!" Emily exclaimed.

"What happened?" Phyllis asked, looking concerned.

Ronnie took a deep breath and sighed. "Someone slipped on a banana peel that came out of the trash and I got blamed for it because I had a banana as a snack."

"What!?" Phyllis exclaimed, tilting her head in shock. "Are they crazy?"

"Nope!" Ronnie exclaimed. "So I had to sit there for almost two hours while they reviewed the security footage."

"Wow." Phyllis exclaimed.

Rounding the corner to the back office was Talon's Dad, the imposing Dale Bradley. The seventy year old Dale ran his family farm supply and grocery store. He was taller than Ronnie, with gray hair slicked back atop his head and some gray around his muzzle. Intense green eyes peered out. His younger brother Tim ran out past the corner too, the two of them in the midst of a conversation.

"I told them to beat it and if they have a beef with Talon over being fired, they need to suck less!" Tim exclaimed to Dale.

"You should have told them to fuck all the way off and never come back here again!" Dale exclaimed. "I don't wanna see those two retards around here again, and if I ever see them again, I'll hit the two in the fuckin' head with a shovel!"

"Dale! Dale!" Phyllis exclaimed. "Calm down! You'll give yourself a heart attack!"

"Fine, fine." Dale muttered. "Hey, Ron."

"Hey."

"Everything okay?" Dale asked.

"Ron got questioned by the cops again." Phyllis explained.

"Over what? What this time?" Dale asked.

"A banana."

"A banana!?" Dale shouted. "What were you doing? Shoving it up someone's ass?"

"NOOOOOO!" Ronnie laughed.

"Come on, I think you need to sit down and cool off a bit." Dale said as he led Ronnie to his back room where he could sit down.

Ronnie took a seat at a small round table, where Dale pulled up a chair.

"Seriously, Ron, are you okay?"

"I'm frustrated." He admitted.

"I understand completely."

"It's everything. They're everywhere. Every aspect of my life is being monitored by the feds or local cops. I got a camper trailer parked two houses down that photograph every little thing I do, I got people jogging by constantly monitoring me, a damn helicopter orbiting overhead, my kid is being terrified, and feds trying to get Talon to talk by showing him inappropriate pictures of me. And all because someone who looks like me is committing crimes in the area!" Ronnie shouted. "I feel like the damn Truman Show movie! What's next? Spy satellites?"

"I know what you're going through, Ron, because years ago, when Josh was kidnapped, I had the same thing happen, kind of." Dale recalled. "Talon told you about Josh and the attempted kidnapping right?"

"Yeah."

"Well for two years after that incident, I was investigated top down by everyone imaginable." Dale recalled. "People were like 'how could you beat someone almost to death like that?' And I was like 'wouldn't you want to protect your kid from a guy who was discovered to be molesting and chopping little kids up and putting them in a hollow tree?'"

Ronnie's eyes went huge and he leaned back a bit in his chair.

"I had child services, the Sheriff's Department, the FBI, US Marshalls all question me. It was a very rough time. And when that stupid fuck died thirteen years later, I got questioned again and again before they finally closed the case. I think they were upset that I kinda fucked the case up because I left him as basically kind of a vegetable? I wouldn't know. I don't remember anything between getting thrown off the roof of the car, and coming to and being restrained by a dozen Deputies and the guy looking like a bloody pulp."

"Well I know not to get on your bad side, Dale~"

"It's rough, and its bullshit I know. Especially from our dickless Sheriff's Department." Dale scoffed.

"What frustrates me is that someone looks like me, rides a motorcycle, and is doing all this criminal shit, but they're focusing on me because I'm a biker to a infamous club."

"Yeah that's not doing you any favors." Dale chuckled. "I remember my friend, ole' Marty, when he was a Hells Angel, and he got harassed all the time. Nicest guy in the world."

"Didn't you hit him in the head with a shovel once?"

"Well yeah. Don't bring guys who fight in my parking lot!" Dale laughed.

Ronnie just grimaced.

Dale got up and patted Ronnie on the shoulder. "Everything's gonna be okay, Ron. You just gotta weather it."

"Yeah. I suppose so."

---

The morning sun shone brilliantly, burning away the dense morning fog that choked Cincinnati. Arriving to the office, Agent Dove pulled in with his black Dodge Charger. Hopping out with some folders tucked under his arm and sipping a cup of coffee, Dove waltzed inside dressed in his usual attire of slacks and a polo shirt. He waved to the receptionist and boarded the elevator to his office on the eighth floor.

Dove went to his office and sat his folders down onto the desk and walked over to a roll out corkboard he had set up in his spacious office. It was part of his official investigation into Ron Samson and the crimes that were occurring in central Ohio. The corkboard had documents and photos of all the criminal reports that were coming in about "the biker". Dove glanced at all the grainy, pixilated, poor quality security camera screenshots, and various notes about the various crimes, which ranged from two attempted shootings, four stabbings, twenty overdoses, and various other petty offenses that were documented. As he glanced at the evidence, his desk phone rang. Dove walked over to answer it.

"Morning, Dove."

"Dove, you're late!" scolded the secretary with a chuckle.

"Yeah, my son got rear ended this morning in the fog. What's up, Bea?"

"You won't believe this, but you're going to having a visitor come soon... your targeted individual, Mister Ronald Samson."

"Oh really? Interesting..." Dove said in an amused tone. "Well I'm here. Call me when he arrives."

"Okay, thanks Dove."

"Thanks, bye."

Dove sat down at his desk to look at his paperwork and just chuckled. "They get so bold these days..."

He picked up a document and walked over to tack it to his corkboard of the latest crime reported in Zanesville. Twenty minutes later, the telephone rang, announcing the arrival of Ron Samson and apparently his son.

"Okay, send him in, and call me in about ten minutes."

"Okay, will do."

Dove turned his corkboard around and wheeled it to the corner when he got the knock on the door. "Come in." Dove called as the door swung open, revealing Ronnie.

Ronnie stepped inside with the heavy sound of his boots. He wore his leather vest over a dark gray tanktop and black leather pants. He had a red and white banana wrapped atop his head where his sunglasses sat at.

"Good morning, please have a seat." Dove motioned as he sat down at his desk. "This is quite a surprise Mister Samson, I've never in twenty-six years of being an agent, have a targeted individual come to see me in my office."

"Well here's your first." Ronnie said, his face looking serious.

"What can I help you with?" Dove asked, looking unamused.

"What do you want from me?" Ronnie asked bluntly. "What do you want from me so all of you can leave me and my son alone? Do you want another piss test? Do you want a blood test? DNA sample? What do you want? You've been scrutinizing every single aspect of my life for weeks now. You've torn my home apart, you got agents stalking me left and right, a helicopter constantly hovering around me. What the hell do I have to do to show that I am not doing these crimes!? How many alibis do I have to give, how many questions I have to answer- you know I got pulled into questioning because someone slipped on a fucking banana peel! A BANANA! What's next? Am I gonna get questioned over buying Dole bananas over Chiquita's? Dove? What do you want?"

"I want to get to the bottom of this spate of violent crimes and drug overdoses." Dove said in a calm voice. "You must understand that this is a legitimate investigation."

"You have the wrong person."

"You are a targeted individual because you fit the profile of the suspect that each victim has talked about. A red Doberman, in their early thirties, who rides a motorcycle, with long wavy hair that's dark brown or almost black, a biker, and Mister Samson I'm sorry, you fit that profile complete with your colors..."

Ronnie looked exasperated.

"Mister Samson you must understand that you are a member of a motorcycle club that the Department of Justice deems as a criminal enterprise due to multiple violent incidents. The Hells Angels Motorcycle Club has been involved in various crimes including intimidation, extortion, gun running, drug selling and manufacturing, prostitution, and up to and including murder by its members. Now while you profess your innocence, and I believe you at face value, you bring this heat upon yourself by associating with their colors by being a member. That's the way it's going to be."

Ronnie nodded. "I see, Agent Dove."

"Until the 'other person' you say is caught, you are the targeted individual of this investigation and that's the way it's going to be. Sorry not sorry, that's how life is, and it's not fair."

"You're terrorizing my kid."

"I don't care." Dove shook his head. "Think about all the other people being terrorized by these crimes."

Ronnie sat back and just shook his head a bit as the phone rang, which Dove quickly answered and said a few words before hanging up.

Dove threw his arms up sarcastically. "I'm sorry, that's it, Mister Samson."

Ronnie nodded with sucked in lips. "That's it then, huh."

"That's it."

Ronnie got up and went to the door. "Alrighty, well, thank you for your time, Agent Dove."

Ronnie opened the door and was halfway out when Dove called his name. He stopped and turned around.

"Have a safe trip home."

"Thanks." Ronnie remarked as he closed the door behind him.

While Ronnie dealt with Dove in his office, Colt sat in the lobby area of the seventh floor, eating a muffin and sipping on apple juice while being entertained by two FBI agents, Agent Casper, and Agent Brannigan, a lady German Shepherd who wore a white and gray pants suit.

"So what do you want to be when you grow up, Colt?" Agent Casper asked curiously as he knelt on the floor.

"Well, I don't know!" Colt smiled.

"C'mon, you don't want to be a pilot? A fire fighter?"

"An astronaut?" Brannigan chimed in with a friendly smile.

"Not sure!" Colt exclaimed. "But I do know that I want to be just like my Dad in the future!"

"Oh really?" Casper said with a smirk up at Brannigan. "Why's that?"

"Well, I have the best Dad in the whole world!" Colt explained. "We always spend time together, especially after Grandpa passed away a few years ago. Dad has always been there for me, no matter what. It's been rough until we came to Ohio last year. And... it's been kinda scary lately."

"I understand that, kiddo." Agent Casper nodded.

"I worry about Dad, because... that's all I have." Colt admitted before biting into his muffin. "My mom passed away, then Grandpa Larry, and Grandpa, and then our apartment burned down, and that was scary. But Dad was always there for me, and I don't want to see him get hurt or anything, or taken away."

"We understand completely." Agent Brannigan nodded with an assuring smile. "Oh here's your father right now!"

"Come on Colty, let's get back home." Ronnie said as Colt got up to be with his Dad.

"It was nice talking to you Agents Casper and Brannigan!"

"You too." Brannigan smiled. "Mister Samson, you have a lil' angel of a son."

"Well, thank you." Ronnie said with a mustered smile. "He's my pride and joy. My lil' mini-me."

"My hair's shorter!"

"We can see that." Chuckled Ronnie.

"You have a safe trip back, Mister Samson." Agent Casper remarked as Ronnie stared blankly at him.

"Thanks~"

They watched Ronnie and Colt board the elevator, and just as the doors closed, Dove stepped out from his office to meet with them as they all walked over to the gold tinted windows to peer down at the parking lot. Ronnie and Colt emerged, with Ronnie holding his son's paw as they walked to his red and black Harley-Davidson. Ronnie helped his son on the back, got his helmet on, and they took off for the road. Dove crossed his arms as he watched.

"Something's amiss." Dove said to his fellow Agents.

"Either he's the boldest motherfucker alive, or we've really screwed this whole investigation up." Casper admitted.

"I don't know... I don't know..." Dove shook his head. "But that's not usual for criminals. They like to blend in, not be out and open like that, going to the very institution that's hunting them."

"And his son was just so sweet. So gentle." Brannigan added.

"I think I'm gonna go and make another trip to central Ohio in a few days..." Dove told them, before going back to his office.

Dove closed the door behind him and sat back down at his desk, pondering about things.

---

Waiting for his workstation to process a complex he cut together for work, Ronnie sat with his head propped up on his desk, his fingers rubbing his forehead in frustration. The dog looked frustrated, and resigned to fate as he looked out at the window at the trailer stalking him two houses up.

"How worse can this get?" Ronnie thought, just when his landline phone rang. He reached over to pick it up, hearing the faint "click" signaling the feds were tapping in.

"Hello, this is Ron Samson."

"Ronnie! Hey! It's Bill."

Ronnie sat up, recognizing the voice, but not recalling immediately who it was. "Who is this?"

"Bill Browne. Uhh, Misty's Dad... It's been a long time."

Ronnie froze. It had been four years since he heard from his late girlfriend's family. The last time they ever spoke to him, was on the day she overdosed and died at work. They never even told him about her funeral or when it was or where she was buried at. The Brownes cut him and his son off completely after she died. Ronnie suspected that once the money from the band stopped flowing, he was meaningless to them. Bill and Cathy Browne were moochers, opportunists; Bill was incompetent with money, and couldn't save money to save his life. He drank it all away, or he gambled it all away, and then would come crawling back to Ronnie to bail him out. Cathy loved living beyond her means, and saw Ronnie as a means to an end for that unrealistic lifestyle. How ironic that once his band was picking up steam again, that the money train was rolling again, that they'd come crawling back into his life.

"Yes it's been a long time, Bill."

"So how have you been, Ronnie?"

"Well, in a bit of a tangle..."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, it's nuts." Ronnie said in a deadpan tone. "It's kind of nuts like how you cut me and your grandson off for almost half a decade, but now that the gravy train is flowing again, here's your bottomfeeding ass again."

"Whoa, whoa, who, Ron?"

"You know how much it hurt when you called me that day and told me Misty died at work? How devastated I was, and then you and your wife just ghost me and Colt and didn't even tell us anything about the funeral or where she's buried at!"

"Well I didn't know what to do! I was mourning I was freaking out!"

"You don't think I wasn't mourning or freaking out because the girl I loved fucking died? How many arguments and screaming matches we had over her drug use, and then for you to just cut me and Colt out, when we could have used your help so bad when my Dad died?"

"Wait, Dave died?"

"Well if you fucking stayed in touch you would have known."

"Look I'm just trying to be nice!"

"No, you're looking for Ronnie's charity and that big fat check again. How funny that when my band fell apart, you acted like I was no longer useful, but now that we're back, you're looking for that handout again to subsidize your bad decisions!"

"Well maybe I just won't call again, Ron!"

"Good! Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, William!" Ronnie shouted as he hung up. He angrily looked up the number and blocked it. Slamming the phone back on the receiver, Ronnie stood up and stretched and cracked his neck. Seeing that his file was still rendering, Ronnie went and stepped out onto his back porch, where he took a seat on the step and put his head into his lap to clear his mind.

---

Departing from his house, the feds photographed Ronnie and his son department on the "red sled", for a evening ride over to see Talon and Emily. Deciding to take a long way through the countryside to Hanover, Ronnie and Colt ventured north on Route 13.

"How's the bike, Dad?"

"She's running okay!" Ronnie assured Colt.

Taking Route 13 north towards St. Louisville, Ronnie saw something in his rearview mirror, which made him look over his shoulder to his right. Sure enough, hovering in the distance was the gray Bell 204, monitoring him. He just rolled his eyes and kept going.

"That helicopter is always following us!" Colt exclaimed.

"Yeah I know! I'd hate to have their fuel bill!" Ronnie laughed.

"Yeah!"

As Ronnie and Colt passed the angled intersection of Route 13 and 668, a dark gray Ford Taurus with a reinforced cow catcher on the front took off from a gravel washout. It soon caught up with Ronnie and Colt on the highway.

Looking back, Colt saw the anonymous cruiser come around the bend and begin closing the gap. The kid didn't think much about it as he turned around to watch the scenery around him pass by. Ronnie made a right turn onto Dog Hollow, and followed the winding country road that went down a small decline. The Taurus made the turn and kept up.

Ronnie saw in his rearview mirror the Taurus, and right away, it looked like an unmarked cruiser from the cow catcher on the front. It was the same cow catcher he saw on all Licking County Sheriff vehicles. And they drove Taurus interceptors.

The vehicle was gaining on them, so Ronnie opened the throttle to gain distance. The Taurus matched his speed and kept gaining on him. Ronnie held his speed and followed the curving road. He made a turn which required him to slow down. Just as the road straightened out, the Taurus suddenly leapt forward, as if to pass, and then suddenly swerve at him.

"DAD!" Colt screamed.

Ronnie swerved and hit the throttle open to pull ahead. The Taurus tried it again, and Ronnie gunned it. "Hold on, Colty!"

"Dad!" Colt yelled as he held onto his Dad tightly.

Pushing his bike in the straightaway to nearly ninety, he tried to keep away from the Taurus, which matched his speed, even in the turns. While Ronnie could easily have outrun the interceptor on a straight road, he was at the disadvantage of being on a backcountry road, winding and turning, in rough condition, and covered in places in gravel and loose earth.

"Just hold, Colty! I got it!"

A few miles away, Agent Dove drove in his black Charger, accompanied behind him by Agent Clark, from Cleveland's office. The two radioed back and forth to each other as they made their way from Mount Vernon, bypassing a car crash that closed Route 13 near Utica.

"This whole thing is giving me a headache." Dove admitted to Clark.

"It's not adding up, that's for sure." The black and rust Doberman said as he shook his head. "I don't get it."

"I really am suspecting something is amiss, Clark, I just-"

Dove slammed his brakes on when he saw a bright red motorcycle flash by him, followed by a gray sedan.

"What the fuck?" Clark muttered.

Dove instantly turned the wheel and gunned his V8. He turned his lights and sirens on and took off after the two vehicles. Coming around a bend at high speed, Dove caught up to the Taurus, which he recognized with its Licking County plates. He squinted and saw and recognized the red Harley-Davidson.

"That's my man!" Dove called out as he reached for his radio. "Licking County forty-five, this is Agent Dove, Cincinnati FBI. What the hell is going on? Over."

"We're in a high speed pursuit!" radioed back a deputy. "Suspect is running from us!"

"What the hell happened?" Dove radioed.

"We caught the suspect going ninety in a sixty, and he wouldn't stop!" the deputy radioed back.

"That's my man!" Dove shouted.

"Not anymore. He's ours now!"

"There's a damn kid on the back, what the fuck is he doing?" Clark asked.

"I don't like this..." Dove said. "Licking County forty-five, there's a damn kid on the back. Pull back damnit!"

"We're getting this son of a bitch!"

"PULL BACK!" Dove shouted.

Ronnie glanced back at seeing Dove's vehicle in pursuit behind the Taurus.

"Dad what are we gonna do?"

"Just hold on! It's okay!" Ronnie exclaimed. He looked back and waved desperately for Dove. Just as he looked ahead, he suddenly felt his paw slip and the bike suddenly lose power. He immediately realized the throttle problem that plagued the "red sled" reared its ugly head again. Losing power, the Taurus, unaware, slammed into the back of the bike. The impact lurched Ronnie and Colt forward, and they started to lose control as the Taurus sped past them.

"HOLD ON!"

Ronnie tried to put the bike down, but instead they both slid into the ditch. Dove watched Ronnie and Colt both be ejected into the air, the kid doing three flips, before they both splashed into a big pond. Dove slammed the brakes on and smoked the tires as he skidded to a stop.

"Licking County forty-five! We have a crash! Licking County forty-five we have a crash! Send an ambulance!" Dove shouted into his radio as he ran out. Jumping over the ditch, Dove and Clark climbed the retention mound and saw them bobbing in the water. Wasting no time, Dove jumped in and swam to grab the kid. Clark jumped in after him and went to fetch Ronnie, who seemed stunned. Both were dragged out and laid out on the retention mound as Dove and Clark checked them over. Dove called for an ambulance on his radio.

"Is my Dad okay! Is my Dad okay!" Colt shouted.

"He's okay! We got an ambulance on the way! No, no! I want you to rest here!" Dove said to Colt as he held him down. "I want them to check you out before we move you. Just rest Colt, he's okay!"

Ronnie was soaking wet, and his leather vest and pants were torn up. Clark checked his pulse and pushed some of his wet hair out of his face. "Mister Samson, help is on the way, stay with me."

"This wasn't my fault... They lunged at us."

Ronnie just let out a disgusted sigh.

---

At Licking Memorial Hospital, Karen Barion exited the X-ray room with the freshly developed X-ray prints. In her dark blue scrubs, the husky-wolf marched back through the emergency room to Room 142, where Colt Samson rested at. The young kid looked a bit scared as he laid in his hospital bed alone, while Ronnie was in a bed two rooms down.

"Colt! I got your X-rays in and I have good news!" Karen smiled as she placed them on the light box and turned it on. "You didn't break any bones. In fact, I didn't see anything wrong at all, and neither did the doctor."

"How's my Dad?" Colt asked.

"He's doing okay."

"Did he break any bones?"

"No, but your Dad's gonna be a bit sore..." Karen admitted. "May I take your blood pressure again?"

"Okay!"

Karen grabbed the cuff and gently wrapped it around Colt's arm and took his blood pressure. She also grabbed her stethoscope and listened to his breath sounds. "Everything's okay. Good boy, Colt."

"Thank you, Karen. Can I please see my Dad?"

Karen helped Colt out of bed and he quickly ran the two rooms down to see his Dad, who was seeing his X-rays from the doctor. Ronnie's leather pants were torn up and he laid in bed in his tanktop and boxers.

"Dad!" Colt exclaimed as he ran over. Ronnie winced and held out a paw as Colt sat down in a chair and held his Dad's paw.

"You didn't break any bones, Mister Samson, but you bruised some ribs, and that shoulder is probably gonna ache too. You're gonna be definitely sore for about a week!"

"Lovely." Ronnie grumbled.

"It could have been worse." Said Dr. Cromwell. "Usually motorcycle wrecks come in here in pieces."

In the lobby, Agents Dove and Clark stood with several members of the Licking County Sheriff's Department, huddled around by the exit as they talked about the chase.

"So tell me what happened?" Dove asked, his arms crossed.

"We saw the bike going past us at a high rate of speed and we engaged and he refused to stop." Explained Deputy Rikers a German Shepherd.

"So why were your lights not on?" Dove asked.

"Oh that cruiser has issues with them."

"Uh-huh." Dove responded. "So he failed to stop, and then you smashed into him and crashed them into the ditch?"

"HEY! He braked on us!" Rikers said all defensively.

Dove chuckled and looked at Clark as he shook his head. "Would you care to recant your bullshit stories there Rikers and Donaldson?"

"Huh?" the two deputies responded together.

"There are two problems about your story. First, the groundskeeper at the Route six-six-eight cemetery said that he witnessed the bike going by, and you two parked there, and the bike wasn't going ninety. It was going the speed limit, as they were behind a truck. Secondly, when I was retracing my steps, a gentleman stopped me and said that he had security camera footage, showing you overtaking and swerving towards them not once, but twice before they took off to clearly get away from you."

Rikers and Donaldson gulped.

"So who's to blame?" Dove asked with a smirk. "Maybe we need to review your dash cam footage?"

"The camera never lies." Clark nodded.

"So again, gentlemen. Want to recant your bullshit story?"

"We... may have overreacted."

"You press charges, and I'll open an investigation into this." Dove glared.

"No charges will be filed..." the Sheriff himself said in a mumbly voice.

"Thank you."

Dove ventured into the ER and went to find Ronnie and Colt. He stepped into the room, past the curtain and stopped. Ronnie and Colt both blankly stared at him.

"Mister Samson, may I speak to Colt please?"

"Sure, why not." Ronnie winced.

"Mister Colt?"

"Okay." The young Dober said softly. He went back to his room as Dove followed him in. Colt slid the door shut and sat on the bed as Dove pulled up a chair to sit on.

"How are you feeling, Colt?"

"I'm okay. I'm just sad about Dad." Colt frowned.

"I understand." Dove nodded with a smile. "So can you tell me what happened?"

"Me and Dad were going to take the long way to go see Talon and Emily. Dad wanted to clear his head after I guess a pretty angry call with my Grandpa."

"I see. I see."

"Well... I saw this gray car pull out and follow us, along with the helicopter that keeps showing up... we turn onto a road and the gray car kept following and getting closer and closer. Then all of a sudden they pull beside us and come towards us! Dad tried to get away, but the road was too curvy."

"So they swerved at you."

"Yes."

Dove nodded. "Little Colty I'm sorry this happened. I really am sorry."

"I hate seeing my Dad hurt..." the Dober frowned. "I was really scared."

"I was too." Dove admitted. "I have three kids of my own. A son and two daughters, and I'd hate to see that happen to them."

"Are you going to take me away from my Dad?" Colt asked.

"What? Nooooo." Dove assured.

"Then why are all of you constantly watching us?"

Dove pursed his lips as he tried to find an answer.

"I have the best Dad in the whole world. I don't want him to be taken away."

Dove frowned. "There's something suspicious going on, and we're trying to find a solution and that's why we're investigating, Colt."

"Yeah. It's weird." Colt shrugged. "Can I be with Dad again?"

"I would like to speak to him alone, real quick."

"Okay."

"You rest here, Colt~" Dove said as he gave Colt a pat and gentle rub of his shoulder before leaving.

Stepping into Ronnie room, Agent Dove slid the glass door shut and pulled the curtain behind him. Ronnie winced in immense pain as he tried to sit up in bed. An uneasy stare looked up at Dove, a look of immense frustration on Ronnie's face.

"I know you didn't run from police in a high speed chase." Dove said as he sat down.

"Am I gonna be charged with it?"

"No." Dove shook his head. "I'm not here to talk to you on official duties an agent. I am here to talk to you one on one as a father. I thought what happened to you and your son was disgusting. I hope you have a lawyer- if you don't, I'd lawyer up, and I'd sue over that. Because that was just wrong."

Ronnie nodded and winced. "I thought you didn't care, Dove?"

Dove sucked on his lower lip thinking of what to say. "It's complicated."

"Yeah, I realized that."

"I want you to rest. You'll be discharged soon with your son." Dove said as he got up to leave. Ronnie laid back down and winced in pain as he stared up at the ceiling, pondering what he could do next.

---

Dropping Agent Clark off at the Columbus PD to pick up his cruiser to head north, Dove hopped onto the outerbelt to begin his long drive back home to Cincinnati. His Charger rumbled on the multi-lane outerbelt in the fading light of the day. Alone in his interceptor, Dove looked serious, his face looking conflicted about what had happened.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a twinkle of a headlight in his rearview mirror. Dove turned his head a bit and noticed a motorcycle closing in on his seven o'clock, its glare concealing some of its details. The figure slowed up a bit as he got up right next to Dove, their speed almost at a match. Dove glanced over and did a double take. What looked like a definite outlaw biker, a red Doberman clad in black leathers without patches drove. The bike looked brown, almost black, and it had a deep throaty exhaust. Dark wavy hair jutted out from a black helmet, and he had a neatly trimmed goatee. That man looked almost exactly like Ronald Samson to Dove. He had to make another look just to confirm that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. That figure looked almost like Ron perfectly, and in the fading light, the finer details that separated them were blurred. He hit the throttle and took off quickly, and Dove watched him soon disappear into the red taillights of traffic. Dove blinked a few times and thought about it, before taking the exit for I-71S to head home.

On his drive home, he was passing near Wilmington, when the radio came to life.

"Dove, come in Dove."

"Dove speaking, dispatch, what's going on? Over."

"Dove we have reports from CPD that there was a shooting by a man that matched the description of your targeted individual. Red Doberman, male, early thirties, biker figure, with long wavy hair and goatee, rode dark colored motorcycle."

"It wouldn't be the T.I, because T.I just got out of the hospital for crashing his motorcycle, which is red and black." Dove responded. "Make note of that and provide it to me tomorrow."

"Will do, Dove."

Dove fumbled his brow and thought about it in the darkened cab of his Charger.

---

Two Weeks Later

It had been a very quiet two weeks. Laying low, Ronnie took two weeks off to rest, doctor's orders. Having several bruised ribs, a hurt shoulder, and bruises all over his arms and legs, Ronnie was lucky to not be even more hurt after crashing and totaling his bike. He was especially thankful his son wasn't severely hurt either. Other than a bruise on his leg and arm, Colt made it out a okay. Their ejection into a deep pond saved them from worse injury. But bruised ribs and a hurt shoulder still hurt, and Ronnie relied on his boyfriend, local friends, and fellow Angels to help him out in his period of downtime. And as he recuperated as best he could, the feds seemed to let up on their unrelenting interrogation of his very existence. His imposter had gone quiet too, which probably had something to do with it.

Waking up on a Friday morning, Ronnie winced as got up. He was still pretty sore. Looking at the clock, Ronnie brushed his messy hair out of his face as he heard some activity in the kitchen. Getting out of bed slowly, Ronnie walked out of his bedroom wearing just his boxers and tanktop that clung to his slender frame. He stepped into the kitchen to see Talon cooking breakfast for everyone. Colt and Emily sat at the table, playing a game on Talon's tablet.

"Morning sunshine!" Talon grinned.

"I don't know about that..." Ronnie chuckled as he reached into the fridge to grab a half drunk bottle of pop. "I feel more like death warmed over."

"I knew a girl like that~" Talon teased as he cooked scrambled eggs and checked on the bacon.

"Oh boy..." Ronnie chuckled. "Morning, Talon~"

Talon just grinned playfully in response.

Sitting down and wincing, Ronnie got a plate handed to him as Talon doled out eggs followed by some bacon. Ronnie grabbed a piece of toast from the plate in front of him and had bacon and eggs with everyone.

"So what's the plan today, Talon?" Ronnie asked.

"Adult daycaring, I mean, working." His boyfriend chuckled. "I gotta mow four lawns and mulch two gardens and that'll be my itinerary."

"Then Dad's gonna take us to the pool!" Emily exclaimed.

"Well don't drop a banana peel." Ronnie teased Emily. "God forbid you drop a banana peel like me~"

"That's oddly specific~" Talon smiled.

"Yeah, crazy."

"What are you gonna do, Dad?" Colt asked.

"Oh work a bit on some music for work, and then hopefully hear back from the dealership so I can go to my insurance and then the lawyer."

"Fun!"

"Yeah, we'll just call it that." Ronnie laughed before wincing from his still sore ribs. "Oh man this sucks."

"It could be worse~" Talon shrugged.

"Oh yeah."

Following breakfast, Ronnie got to work on his workstation, while Emily and Colt played with Colby in the backyard. He worked to cut together another song for a client, just as the landline rang. Ronnie reached over slowly to grab it off the receiver. He heard the faint click of the feds tapping in.

"Ron Samson speaking."

"Good morning this is Harley-Davidson Pickerington, how are you doing today, Ron?"

"Sore, but okay."

"Completely understandable. Well, I wanted to let you know that we finished the examination of the bike, and we found that the throttle did malfunction again, which is why you lost power."

"I figured that. I felt the throttle give out and it just died on me."

"We finished up our incident report, and are going to e-mail it to you."

"Great. Because my attorney and insurance agent needs to see that."

Ronnie printed two copies of the document, which spat out from his laser printer on the desk beside him. He thanked the dealership and ended the call. He finished editing the song, and sent it back to Varg to examine. Messaging that he would have to head over to deal with some legal stuff, Ronnie got up slowly and walked over to fetch his leather vest. While his leather jacket and pants were ruined in the crash, his vest survived. He threw it on over his t-shirt and pulled his hair out from the back of it and gave his wavy hair a shake. Taking his printed copies, he placed them in a folder, and stowed them in a backpack. Checking that the front door was locked, Ronnie made his way out the back door, where he said good morning to his neighbor Mindy and asked if she could watch the kids for a bit while he dealt with his paperwork.

Departing on his Dad's Fatboy, Ronnie roared on out of the neighborhood. It felt good to be on his bike again, after two weeks of being grounded from hurting so much. His body still ached, but it wasn't the crippling haze that kept him practically bedridden. The fact that he was driven off the road by a Sheriff's Deputy really disgusted him, and it was the topic for the day with Lisa.

Heading into downtown Newark, Ronnie stopped at his insurance agent and turned in some paperwork, and got some paperwork that was signed in return. He limped back onto his bike and took off to head to the downtown square, where two roundabouts later, he pulled into a spot by the law office and threw the kickstand down.

Going inside and upstairs, Ronnie met with Lisa in her office to talk about the situation he was in.

"The fact that a Sheriff's Deputy would run you off the road, knowing that you had your son on the bike... it's incredible." Lisa shook her head. "How's your kiddo?"

"He's doing great." Ronnie nodded with a smile. "Other than a bruise or two, he's back up and running around."

"Kids are resilient."

"Hopefully~" Ronnie chuckled.

"Look Ron, I'll be honest with you as your legal counsel. You're being harassed, hounded, and bamboozled, and now practically murdered by an investigation that has yet to uncover anything, and has become just a boondoggle of harassment. I think it's come to the point where you should initiate a lawsuit to solve this once and for all and seek damages."

"Lisa, I just don't know." Ronnie said, shaking his head. "I'm afraid this is gonna bring heat on the club given the circumstances. And the Akron chapter is quiet, and I don't want this shit to start going back up there and causing problems for the other guys."

"You're gonna get the feds walk all over you, Ron?"

"Look, Lisa, can I just talk to the president and get his opinion before I initiate a major lawsuit against the feds?" Ronnie asked. "To make sure it's not gonna fuck me in my position in the club."

Lisa relented. "Alright. But call me the moment you get the answer that you want, because this is getting out of control. They tried to kill you and your son, and that should make you smokin' mad, because it would make me filled with rage."

"Oh it does, Lisa." Ronnie agreed. "It makes me very mad. And it makes me very mad that I can't find this motherfucker responsible!"

"They're gonna fuck up sooner or later. It always happens." Lisa figured.

"If I get my paws on them, I'm gonna fuck them up."

"Don't you dare!" Lisa laughed. "Jesus fucking Christ, I gotta unfuck Rob all the time, don't make me have to unfuck you, Ron!"

"Heh, okay." Ronnie chuckled. "Thanks for your time, Lisa."

"You too, Ron. Be safe. And I hope you feel better!"

"Heh, thanks."

---

Stepping out from Lisa's office, Ronnie pushed the glass door open and felt the rush of stagnant July heat hit him. Grabbing his dark gray banana from inside his vest, Ronnie placed it atop his head and fiddled around with tying it blind. He glanced around at the surprisingly quiet downtown activity. Friday was another smoky, hazy day, the sky milk white from Canadian fire smoke, and the faint breeze carried the acrid stench of smoke. As he walked towards his motorcycle, Ronnie glanced to his left, towards the jewelry store and Midland Theatre, and then to his right, where he saw an eatery. Ronnie stopped mid-step when he noticed a peculiar motorcycle, a brown Indian Scout Bobber with a huge chrome exhaust system. Ronnie raised a brow.

Turning away from his Harley, Ronnie walked over with a casual stroll, over towards the Scout Bobber parked in front of the restaurant. It was a very fancy motorcycle, with its chrome brilliantly polished. The brown paint on the gas tank was pearlescent, and when viewed from various angles, it took on an almost black sheen, resembling his Fatboy's black and gold stripe trim. Ronnie recognized it as the Indian he saw his imposter drive, and he instantly could see how the uninformed could mistake the appearance of their bikes.

Just as he was about to whip his phone out to photograph the plates, the sound of the eatery doors opening startled the Doberman. Ronnie noticed his imposter step outside, and they briefly made eye contact. The other red Doberman had eyes concealed by dark shades, and wore black leathers without any patches. His wavy long hair flowed down to his upper back, but Ronnie noticed that at the roots, the black gave way to his medium brown hair. He was clearly dying it. He walked past Ronnie and turned to walk down the alleyway. Ronnie pretended to be on his phone as he waited a moment.

His face looking serious, Ronnie stowed his phone into his shorts pocket and began walking towards the alley. He found the coast clear as he walked down the narrow alleyway, lined with some trashcans that filled the alley with the faint smell of rotting trash. Ronnie walked slowly and quietly on the weathered bricks. As he walked, he heard a faint conversation grow louder. Just near the corner, where another alley intersected, Ronnie ducked into a little recession in the wall, behind a trash can. He listened carefully to the conversation, which sounded like a drug deal to him. Something about "the stuff".

"I got the stuff~" came the voice, which he recognized as the imposter. "But it's gonna cost you more, man."

"Bro, what the fuck? I paid you extra last time for that shit when you got it, and now you're gipping me again, dude?"

"You want the shit or what, motherfucker?"

"I paid you and gimme the pills, bro!"

"No."

Ronnie heard a scuffle, like the sound of someone being shoved, the shuffling off feet, and suddenly, a very loud gunshot. The report made Ronnie jump, and he immediately ducked down behind the trash can at the sounds of boots running on the bricks. A shadow flashed against the wall as someone ran by. Ronnie heard the sound of that Indian be fired up, and the peeling of tires on the pavement as it roared away.

Feeling it was safe, Ronnie bolted out from his hiding place and rounded the corner to find a waiter lying against the building, bleeding heavily from a gunshot wound to his left arm. The white wolf looked like he was in shock, as bright red blood shot from a very serious wound. Ronnie ran over, ripped his bandana off and immediately began applying pressure to the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. With one paw, Ronnie quickly dialed 9-1-1 on his phone and called for help about a person being shot. Other workers of the restaurant ran out to see what was going on and immediately jumped in to help.

"Who did this to you?" Ronnie asked the man, who was in too much shock to say anything. "C'mon, stay with me, buddy."

"What the fuck happened, Lonnie?" people asked in shock.

"I heard an argument." Ronnie said, before the sound of someone running up got his attention.

"HANDS UP NOW!"

Ronnie saw a Sheriff's Deputy pull their gun on him. "UP! NOW! MOTHERFUCKER!"

Letting go of the wound, blood began to pour as someone else dove in to stop it. With his right paw covered in the man's blood, Ronnie raised his paws up to surrender to the tense looking German Shepherd Deputy and his pistol.

"Fuck."

---

After being released from police custody and making another return to his attorney's office, Ronnie arrived at the hospital. His presence made heads turn in the lobby as he made his way into the emergency room, to go search for the wounded man. After asking a few nurses, he found the white wolf resting in a private room down the hallway. Ronnie gently tapped on the partially open glass door and waved at him with a smile. "How are you feeling, bud?"

"Well, sore." The wolf said with a chuckle that was very jaded.

"Do you mind if I step in?"

"Sure."

Ronnie stepped inside and slid the door shut behind him.

"Thanks for trying to help." The wolf said. "I'm Lonnie~"

"Ronnie~"

"Ha, it rhymes." The wolf smiled a bit.

"Lonnie, can I ask you something?" Ronnie asked as he grabbed a seat. "Did you know that man?"

"Yeah." The wolf said rather reluctantly... "...he's my dealer... and I'm fucked."

"Oh yeah?"

The wolf sighed. "I have a problem, man."

"I think you do."

"I need my fix. Percocet."

"Yikes."

"He provided it, well, until he gipped me." The wolf grumbled.

"Do you know anything about him?"

"Well, his name's Ritchie, or that's what he's told me his name is. Never keeps the same number, always changing it. Kinda mysterious. He looks like you, but without the 'strap. And he dyes his hair, but I don't think he does a good job, because it fades pretty quick."

"That motherfucker has been causing me problems... major problems..."

"Is that why the Deputy pulled his gun on you?"

"Yes..." Ronnie blankly stared. "They think I'm behind all these crimes."

"What?" the wolf exclaimed.

"Yeah, I say the same thing too." Ronnie laughed sardonically. "So all you know is his name is Ritchie?"

"That and he drives a badass Indian."

Ronnie frowned. "I was hoping you'd know more."

"Yeah, sorry man."

Ronnie got up and walked over to the exit. He stopped and turned around. "Buddy I hope you get your life cleaned up because that shit's gonna kill you. It killed my girlfriend a few years ago."

"I thought you biker guys were into that stuff?"

"Not this one, motherfucker~" Ronnie said with a grin as he pointed at himself. "Now get that arm better, and be safe."

"You too, Ronnie."

Ronnie nodded and left the room. He walked by the same Deputy who had arrested him earlier in the day. They briefly made eye contact, before Ronnie continued on his way. As he left the emergency department, Ronnie looked disappointed. He really had hoped he could figure out who his imposter was. He really wanted to get him, so this legal nightmare he was stuck in, under the microscope of the feds, could come to an end.

Ronnie winced as he got onto his motorcycle. The rough handling by the Deputies hurt his shoulders and ribs. He sat, took a moment to catch his breath, donned his helmet, and took off for home. As he drove home, the anonymous gray helicopter appeared, following him back to Moull Street.

---

"Yeah Ronnie, what's up?" came Wild Hog on the phone.

"Wild Hog, you doin' anything in a few hours?"

"No, what's up?"

"Hey I need to speak to you in person about something, at the clubhouse. I need some advice and your thoughts before I make a move on this."

"Sure. Come on up. I'll be there."

"See you at two, Wild Hog."

"You too, Ronnie."

Ronnie put his cellphone down and looked at his reflection in the mirror as he finished getting dressed. Wearing his riding boots and new shiny black leather pants, Ronnie brushed a wrinkle out of his red and white t-shirt that read "AFFA" on the front, and threw on his patched up vest. He fetched his red and black bandanna and tied it atop his head, and as he walked back into his bedroom, adjusted his ponytail.

"Alright, Dad! I'm ready!" came Colt, smiling in his brown leathers. Ronnie chuckled and patted him on his back as they walked for the backdoor. "I won't be too long, I promise."

"Okay! Me and Talon will just go fishing longer!"

"That's the spirit~"

Hopping on his Fatboy, Ronnie and Colt took off to Hanover. A few minutes into the drive, Ronnie spotted his shadow appear, the anonymous gray Bell 204 emerging over the tree line and keeping pace at a distance. Ronnie stopped at Talon's home and dropped Colt off, where he waved goodbye to his Dad before going inside with Talon. Ronnie returned to Route 16, and began his long drive to Akron, as his shadow followed him.

Route 16 took him through eastern Licking County, and the northwest corner of Muskingum county. It was nothing but rural farmland, with little traffic on the four lane highway. Just before he got to Coshocton County, major construction made him take Route 60 to 541 into Coshocton. After detouring, he hopped back onto Route 16, which merged with Route 36, and finally to Newcomerstown, where he hopped on I-77 to head north. All the while, his shadow kept pace.

Traffic was about what he expected on the interstate for a mid Saturday. Cruising along at seventy-five like everybody else, Ronnie just sat on his bike and thought about everything that was going on. Periodically he'd glance back and watch his shadow continue to follow, always around his five o'clock. Looking ahead, Ronnie squinted through his polarized sunglasses and saw a car in the breakdown lane, with a young looking person standing towards the back right side. Putting his turn signal on, Ronnie slowed up and pulled off, stopping about fifty feet ahead of the broken down gray Civic. Throwing his kickstand down, Ronnie slowly climbed off his bike and walked over.

The driver was a young woman, a petite wolfess with light brown fur and blue eyes that looked apprehensive at Ronnie's presence. Ronnie saw that the back right tire was flat.

"How are you doing?" Ronnie asked with a friendly smile.

"I'm fine- well- frustrated." The woman said, choking up a bit from the imposing looking biker dog.

"I hate when that happens~" Ronnie pointed with a chuckle. "How long have you been stranded here?"

"About twenty minutes."

"You got a spare in the trunk?"

"I think so."

"Mind if I give you a hand?"

"Sure~"

Ronnie watched the young woman open the trunk for him. He pushed a blanket and a backpack aside to lift up a false floor, where a small jack and the donut was stowed at. Ronnie grabbed both, went back to his bike to grab his tools that were stowed in one of his storage bags, and went to change the tire for her. High above, the feds watched from the orbiting helicopter, as Ronnie changed the tire effortlessly. The woman was mighty impressed.

"Your donut is a bit low on air, so I really, really recommend that you go to the gas station a few miles up the interstate and inflate it back up to fifty psi." Ronnie pointed out. "Now where are you going?"

"Going to see family in Cleveland."

"That donut won't make it at highway speeds up there, so I want to help you out. This same thing happened to me with my Civic last year, but twenty miles up the road. There's an awesome tire shop in Canton that carries these tires in stock, and they're not badly priced. I'd replace both tires so they wear evenly."

"Well, I'm a bit short on money and-"

Ronnie reached for his pocket, and handed her four hundred dollars. The wolfess looked nervous.

"I'm a singer in the band named Hard Times, and I work in a recording studio, so it's not dirty money." Ronnie joked. "That will buy you two tires, the service, and a lunch, to help you out."

"Oh my god, thank you so much!" she smiled.

Ronnie reached into his cut and pulled out a business card he kept, which read "You've just met the Big Red Machine!" He handed it to her. "Name's Ronnie, from the Akron chapter."

"I'm Misty~"

"I like that name." Ronnie smiled. "My late girlfriend was named Misty."

"I don't know how I'd ever repay you!" she exclaimed as Ronnie picked up his tool box.

"Don't worry about it! You take care, Misty~" Ronnie waved as he walked back to his bike.

"Thank you!" she waved as she watched Ronnie take off and soon disappear into the haze.

Looking at his greasy paws, Ronnie pulled off at a gas station near New Philadelphia to wash his paws off. The sight of a Hells Angel pulling in turned all heads as Ronnie parked near the entrance and stepped out to head inside. He soon exited, holding a drink in his paw as he took a sip. He glanced up to watch the Bell 204 pass overhead, a federal agent peering out from the open hatch. Ronnie just rolled his eyes.

As he went to take another sip, Ronnie heard someone yell, and the sound of something coming towards him. Ronnie saw a scooter out of control, and he immediately recoiled and grabbed the bike by the handle bars. Ronnie stopped a banana yellow Zuma, an adorable little bike, driven by a guy who looked like he was barely eighteen. The young fawn Doberman looked mighty embarrassed and terrified at staring down a leather clad biker gripping the handle bars.

"Holy shit, bud! You about wiped out!" Ronnie laughed as he winced and let go. He flexed both his shoulders and looked to be in pain.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry if I hurt you!" the Doberman said, looking terrified.

"Nah, this from being thrown off my motorcycle recently." Ronnie recalled. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm new to this thing!"

"It's like riding a bike but with a motor, dumbass!" Ronnie laughed.

The Doberman frowned and hopped off to see other people looking cross at him.

"Leave him alone!" Ronnie motioned. "It's fine!" Everyone listened to him and went back to what he was doing.

"Look I'm so sorry, I~"

Ronnie laughed. "It's fine, dude. Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Just your pride is wounded." Ronnie teased. "What's your name?"

"Ricky."

"I'm Ronnie. Akron chapter."

"Well it's nice to run into you~"

"Literally."

"I just got my license and I just got this scooter."

"I like the color." Ronnie complimented. "And don't worry about it. Everyone has to start. I had to learn too many years ago."

Ronnie wished him well and walked over to get back on his bike. He gave a wave and took off with a mighty roar. People looked up and watched the Bell helicopter follow him.

Ronnie flowed with traffic, and continued his way north as the city of Canton passed by on both sides. He was getting closer to Akron, and he began to think of what to say to the president about his concerns about suing the FBI. Ronnie was really afraid it would bring heat on all of them.

As Canton disappeared behind him, Ronnie spaced out a bit as he drove. He kept his head on a swivel, but he felt as though he was on autopilot, his eyes watching the cars all around him. It was calm as he listened to his engine roar and the wind whistle past his ears. Everything was situation normal.

In front of him, Ronnie watched the gray helicopter suddenly come into view. It landed hard on the highway with a mighty crash. Its landing skis warped and the tail rotor broke apart. The body of the helicopter spun around once and struck the concrete barricade, with a shower of sparks and metal twisting off. The rotors twisted and contorted themselves, sending shrapnel everywhere as sparks flew off the twisted metal. Ronnie hit the brakes and slid to a screeching stop, as did everyone else.

Blinking a few times in disbelief, Ronnie saw his shadow lying broken in front of him, littering the entire highway in flaming debris. The body of the Bell was crumpled and broken apart. A door swung open, and Ronnie watched in amazement as several federal agents bolted out, looking as shocked as he was.

Getting off his bike, Ronnie looked at all the flaming debris, and back at all the cars that were piling up into a huge traffic jam. He looked back at the flaming helicopter debris, pondering how the feds were gonna blame him for this one.

---

In the shade of the big tree on the clubhouse grounds, Wild Hog took a big hit on his cigarette while waiting for Ronnie. He blew out acrid blue smoke from his lips while watching some prospects do the grunt work of weeding the garden and mowing the front lawn. On the sidewalk out front, big Bluto and Animal helped a young kid and their Mom reinflate his bike tire that had gone flat.

Ronnie soon arrived, pulling into the driveway and coming to a stop. He threw the kickstand down and winced as he got off. Wild Hog snuffed out his cigarette butt and threw it away as he walked over to greet the annoyed looking Doberman.

"Ronnie! You're late!"

"Don't remind me." Ronnie grumbled.

"You get caught in the traffic jam from the helicopter crash?"

"Oh yes I did... I got a front row seat..." Ronnie shook his head. "It's that stupid helicopter that shadows me everywhere!"

"What!?" the black wolf exclaimed. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No!" Ronnie exclaimed. "The damn thing crashed onto the interstate and several FBI agents hopped out! It was following me from the moment I left Newark!"

"You're shittin' me."

"Absolutely not. That's what I wanna talk to you about!" Ronnie exclaimed.

"Okay, just take a breath, and calm down, Ron." Wild Hog explained.

"They won't leave me alone, and I don't know what to do." Ronnie huffed.

Wild Hog took Ronnie inside to his office in the clubhouse. Ronnie took a seat on a plush leather chair, and Wild Hog closed the door behind him as he stepped inside and took a seat.

"So that was a federal helicopter huh?"

"Yes." Ronnie nodded. "I haven't told you the extent of what's been going on, because I don't want fucking heat brought down on this chapter any further than the heat that we have to deal with from the cops. Since my home got raided, I've had federal agents watching every single aspect of my life. They're in the air, they're camped out on my street, they're listening in to my phone calls, everything! You know I can't even go bike riding with my son without someone tailing us. I'm constantly questioned over every little incident in Newark. You know I got questioned because someone slipped on a fucking banana peel at the pool? I can't take this anymore."

"A banana?"

"Someone slipped on a banana peel at the pool and I got questioned because I was seen eating a banana."

"Wow."

"I want to sue the FBI, and I especially want to sue the Licking County Sheriff's Office for almost getting me and Colty killed and the red sled totaled. I really want to sue the fuck outta everyone, but I'm afraid if I do that, I'm gonna fuck this whole chapter over. My attorney is awaiting my green light to submit paperwork, but I just don't know if it's gonna help me, or make my situation even worse?"

Wild Hog tapped his fingers together. "Ron, I don't think you should worry about us here in Akron. We're grownups, heh. And it's not the Hells Angels' first rodeo in police bullshit! What they're doing is harassment, Ron, and it's getting out of control. They're going after you because of that vest and that vest only."

"My problem is that I can't find the imposter. The motherfucker causing me issue... I've seen who it is... But I can't get anything more." Ronnie said with heavy annoyance to his voice. "His name is Ritchie, and he looks like me, but he dyes his hair black and has a goatee, drives an Indian Scout Bobber that's brown, but looks black at certain angles, with a loud, big aftermarket exhaust system on it. I witnessed him shoot a guy in Newark, and escape. And guess who got questioned over that! This motherfucker here! God I can't win!"

"Do you think you can prove this in court?"

"That's my problem." Ronnie said. "But what the fuck do they want? They're stalking me all the time, and monitoring me without end, and they've found nothing that has linked me to any of these supposed crimes because I'm always doing stuff. So unless I can split myself like an amoeba, or be in two places at the same time, they got nothing. So drop the fucking thing? That's what I want to sue about..."

"Ron, I think you have a legitimate case with the ramming you and your son off the road. That's fucked up no matter how you spin it. Suing the FBI is a big thing, but it's harassment, and if you don't fight back, you're gonna keep having them stalk you..."

"...or more helicopters falling out of the sky..."

"That too." Wild Hog laughed.

"Oh boy... I guess it's time to bite the bullet then."

"Don't worry about us. Do it for your son." Wild Hog suggested.

Ronnie nodded. "Okay. I'll do it."

Ronnie soon stepped out from the office to find Bluto and Animal sitting at the bar having a beer together. Bluto sat shirtless with just his denim vest over his huge body, while Animal wore a white wifebeater over his black leather cut. Animal superficially looked like Ronnie, a tattooed up red Dober with the same wavy long brown hair and blue eyes, but his face looked even gruffer and he didn't have Ronnie's chinstrap beard to go with his goatee. Ronnie walked over to see them.

"Hey Ronnie!" big Bluto exclaimed. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore." He laughed.

"I can imagine so after a bike crash..." Bluto nodded.

"Man, after I got thrown off my bike years ago, my back was never the same again..." Animal explained. "Hey Ron, you still got the feds breathing down your neck down there?"

"Yes..." Ronnie grumbled. "I came up here to talk to Wild Hog because I plan on suing the feds for all this shit."

"Oh yeah?" Bluto asked. "You gonna gimme some of that lawsuit money?"

"Yeah I could use a free hand out there, motherfucker!" Animal laughed.

"Get the fuck outta here." Ronnie laughed. "God, what am I about to embark on."

"Some Benjamins!" Animal exclaimed.

"It's all about the Benjamins~" Bluto snorted as he downed his beer. "How's your kiddo doing, Ron?"

"He's okay. We're holding our own okay through all this shit..."

"That's good."

"Hey when you go home, Ron, be aware that seventy-seven is closed because apparently a helicopter crashed or something?" Animal mentioned.

"Oh I'm well aware..." Ronnie chuckled. "Those were my buddies that shadowed me everywhere..."

"No fucking way!" Animal laughed. "You took a fucking helicopter down?"

"NOOOOOOO!" Ronnie laughed. "Jesus fucking Christ, Animal."

"How the fuck is Ronno gonna take a helicopter down, retard? A slingshot?" Bluto scoffed as he ripped the tab on another can of beer.

"This is what I'm talking about! This is what I've been enduring! I've had the helicopter crash, two FBI agents fall out of a tree! People stalking me! And I get questioned over a banana peel!"

"A what!?"

"Yes! A fucking banana peel!" Ronnie exclaimed. "All because someone who kinda looks like me rides a bike and dabbles in drugs and petty crimes..."

"Well shit! Thank god I don't live in Newark." Animal laughed as he pushed some hair out of his face. "They'd bust me with all my weed!"

"Yeah they would." Ronnie chuckled. "But they have me to harass."

"That's what cops do best~" Bluto shrugged.

"And I'm sure I'm gonna kick the hornet's nest doing this..."

Bluto got up from the barstool and put an arm around Ronnie. "Look, you got our support buddy~"

"Do it for your son." Animal pointed out. "And do it for your own dignity."

"Yeah." Ronnie nodded.

"And do it for the Benjamins!" Bluto laughed as he gave Ronnie a hard smack to the middle of his shoulders. Ronnie dropped instantly from the pain.

"Wow! Way to go you fucking retard!" Animal exclaimed.

"Oh shit, sorry Ronnie!"

"Bluto!" came Wild Hog. "Stop being a stupid fuck!"

"Yeah!" Animal pointed.

Bluto reached down and picked Ronnie up with one paw. "You okay, Ron?"

"Like a million unicorns giving me little licks..." Ronnie grumbled.

After hanging out with friends for a while, Ronnie stepped out of the clubhouse to begin the trip back to Newark. As he walked towards his bike, he called his attorney Lisa, who picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hey Ronnie!"

"Lisa, I talked to the club president, and some of my buds here, and let's do this."

"Here we go!"

Ronnie thanked her and ended the call after a minute. He stood for a moment and thought about what he was getting himself into by suing the feds.

---

One Week Later

Looking like a scene out of Casablanca, a morning fog enveloped the Newark-Heath airport. The brilliant floodlights burned through the mist and reflected off the rain soaked tarmac. Sitting on the ramp was Rob Barion's colorful Convairliner, a restored C-131F, in its colorful Navy scheme of silver, white, and prominent dayglo orange on its nose, tail, and outer wings. "Columbiana" graced the upper fuselage by the open hatch. Maintenance was ongoing to the number two engine, as Rob and his husband Joey poked around with Vlado and the other mechanics to do a minor repair to one of the cowl flaps.

While maintenance went on outside in the fog, Ronnie sat in the cabin with Talon and their kids. The Convair's cabin was restored to its military VIP configuration, with "federal gold" upholstery and faux wood paneling on the bulkheads. The cabin was largely open, with a couple big swivel chairs of gold leather, two large couches that could fold out as beds, and a desk in the back by the bulkhead for the galley and bathrooms in the tail. Colt and Emily ran up and down the cabin, exploring the plane while Talon watched over them. Ronnie sat in a swivel chair, reading a new copy of the Newark Advocate.

On the front page of the local newspaper was a photograph of the destroyed FBI helicopter. The newspaper talked about the Akron crash, as the FBI had to finally admit about what had happened. The article talked about the helicopter being involved in "surveillance of a targeted individual from Newark", which made Ronnie roll his eyes hearing about himself. Apparently they had followed him for so long that they ran out of gas, and during the attempt at autorotation for an emergency landing, they misjudged their approach and crashed onto the interstate. Nobody was severely injured, but the helicopter was a total loss. The article also briefly mentioned about the crime spree hitting central Ohio, and touched on Ronnie's lawsuit against the FBI for harassment.

Tired of being reminded of his situation, he folded the newspaper up and stowed it beside him, with his two big binders of legalese. The red binder was for his lawsuit, and Ronnie had a massive stack of paperwork to sign for his attorney, which he'd fax over once he was at his uncle's place. The green binder had paperwork his Mom needed to sign for the home he bought in Newark for her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rob climb into the cockpit with his husband Joey and step into the cockpit to prepare for flight. After the half hour delay, the number two engine was turned over, with a might back blast of oily smoke, followed a minute later by the number one engine, which Ronnie watched turn over with a deep throaty cough of cold cylinders. The Double-Wasp radial had a neat whirr from its supercharger upon starting, with the vibrations filling the cabin as the engines ran at low power to warm up. Ronnie could faintly smell the oily scent of the exhaust.

Finally departing from Newark-Heath, the Convairliner roared into the air at seven o'clock in the morning and slipped away into the foggy abyss. A few minutes later, Ronnie watched from his window as they punched through the fog and into the bright morning sky. The sky was ablaze with color as they continued to climb eastward. Rob and Joey climbed their C-131 to eight thousand feet and leveled off to cruise towards JFK.

The cabin was filled by the muffled droning of propellers. Talon entertained Colt and Emily while Ronnie sat in the back, filling out all his legal paperwork for Lisa. He flipped through page after page, reading sections and signing and initialing with his blue felt pen. His eyes felt tired reading the tightly spaced, tiny, and pedantic legalese. As he flipped the page again, Ronnie thought about the lawsuit and its scope, and was afraid that it would backfire on him, or worse, the club. He knew he had an imposter committing the crimes, but no evidence, other than a guy who "looked like him but drove an Indian Scout Bobber". But Lisa seemed confident, very confident, that Ronnie had a legitimate grievance for an investigation into him that seemed overly excessive, with no evidence of wrongdoing. His attorney also felt super confident about going after the LCSO with a charge of police brutality for ramming him and his son off their bike in an unprovoked chase.

Finishing that binder up, Ronnie opened the green binder and went through all the documents. He purchased a home on Euclid Avenue for his Mom, and the purchase was a bit more complicated, as it was in his name, but purchased by Rob's financial backing, but intended to transfer to his Mom when her mom passed away. Ronnie looked through all the sections of information about zoning, taxes, and the utilities. Rob had already signed his sections with the realtor; Rob's signature was neat and tidy, with loopy cursive that bellied his rough and rugged nature. He signed with a blue pen that bled a bit at the points where Rob pressed the pen in hard. Ronnie signed his sections, and noticed at the end, a legal notice from Rob and his attorney, absolving himself of any responsibilities of the home after helping to finance it. The document was from his attorney, and notarized. Ronnie remembered getting the same document when Rob bought his home on Moull Street. Ronnie signed his name on the zoning paperwork, and all the utilities, denoting that he would take care of the home on an interim basis, and once his Mom moved in, it would then fall into her responsibility.

Ronnie finished up and closed the binder up. He sat back in the chair, only to feel Talon squeeze his shoulder. He looked up to his boyfriend handing him a small paper cup.

"Rob bought us a small bottle of champagne, drink up!" Talon offered with a friendly smile.

"Oh thanks~" Ronnie responded as he took the cup and had a sip of it. "Celebrating early?"

"Ha~" Talon chuckled.

Getting up, Ronnie sat down with Talon on the couch. He saw that Colt and Emily were asleep, with Colt asleep in a chair and Emily on the other couch.

"Got so excited they wore themselves out." Talon remarked with a chuckle as he sipped on his cup.

"Kids being kids." Ronnie chuckled. "I need to take a break. Too much legalese."

"Yuck." Talon responded. "I hate when that happens."

"I really hope I am doing the right thing." Ronnie admitted to his boyfriend. "I can't take it anymore, Talon, but I really don't have the evidence to show that my imposter is real? I know he is, but that doesn't hold up in court! All I know is that he looks like me and rides a Scout Bobber, and all the accusations the feds throw at me don't stick because I'm never there when that supposed crime happens."

"I know you're doing the right thing, Ronnie. And your attorney wouldn't take up the case if she knew it wouldn't work. She's not some fly by night operation~"

"Well she better not for the fucking price I'm paying!" Ronnie exclaimed.

"I got a great deal on my attorney, but he was a bumbling alcoholic." Talon chuckled. "I knew a girl like that too!"

"Oh boy..." Ronnie laughed.

"I was fortunate that my ex was nuts!" Talon laughed. "Case closed!"

"Jesus Christ, Talon." Ronnie laughed with him.

Talon leaned in and kissed the side of Ronnie's muzzle. "Everything's gonna be okay, babe~"

"Thanks, stud." Smiled Ronnie.

"Anytime!"

---

Riding in his uncle's Toyota sedan, the pearlescent silver Camry rolled with the traffic into Queens, New York. Ronnie rode in the front passenger seat, while Talon, Emily, and Colt rode in the back. Behind the wheel sat his Uncle Les, an aging red Dober with combed back gray hair, patiently flowing with traffic as they all got caught up on things. As he drove, his cellphone rang, and he reached over to engage it with his earpiece. Ronnie watched the scenery pass by, which always reminded him of home in Chicago. He had no memories of growing up in Queens, having just turned four when his parents moved to Chicago in 1995.

"Oh boy... so Rhonda's car is all mangled up? Just her luck." Les said with a sarcastic hint. Ronnie glanced over at hearing that. "Just let me know, honey. Thanks, bye."

"What happened?" Ronnie asked.

"Some dum-dum rear ended your Mom this morning when she was leaving the hospital." Les said.

"Is Mom okay?"

"Your Mom's okay, but that favorite car of hers is pretty mangled up on the ass end." Les quipped with a cynical chuckle. "Just what your Mom needs right now..."

"Yeah..." Ronnie grimaced.

"Lots of bad luck this year it seems..." Les figured as he made a turn at the light. "You got your crap with the police, your Mom and her mom's declining health, and me having to play adult daycare with my two eldest kids..."

"It sucks~" Ronnie chuckled cynically.

Lester lived on 137th Street, by the corner. His home was a large flat roofed rectangle, with white stucco and big windows that were shielded by lush shrubs and trees. A white privacy fence lined the sidewalk, and a wrought iron gate completed it. Les pulled up to his parking space up front, and everyone hopped out to head inside. Queens was experiencing a heat wave, and the air was oppressively hot and suffocating from the wildfire smoke.

While Les' wife Martha showed Talon and the kids around the garden in the back, Ronnie worked to prepare his big binder of paperwork to fax over to Newark. He scribbled a note down for Lisa, stuck it on the front of his big stack, and placed it on the paper tray. Les dialed the number in on his big fancy copier and hit the send button, and each page was taken up, scanned, and spat out, a hundred and fifty pages in total.

"So how in the hell did you get wrapped up into this mess?" Les asked curiously.

"Apparently someone looks like me and is causing crimes all over central Ohio." Ronnie explained. "There's been stabbings, drug overdoses, assaults, and now a shooting."

"Really now? And police are investigating you despite an alibi?"

"Yeah apparently so."

"And one person is doing this?"

"I think?" Ronnie shrugged. "I really don't know, because nobody is telling me anything. Anytime an incident happens, I get a phone call, or they show up to my door, or hell, I get arrested at work and processed until the victim comes forward to clear me. It's insane, Uncle Les."

"Jesus Christ..." Les muttered. "And despite clearly not being responsible for any of this, they keep coming back?"

"Yep."

"Wow."

"I wish I knew who the person was." Ronnie shook his head. "I know he's a red Doberman, he's got the same long hair like me but he dyes it black, I know he dyes his hair, and he rides a brown Indian Scout Bobber that looks black from some lighting angles. But that's it. I have no other info about my imposter causing me so many issues."

"Goes to show how government money is used, huh?" Les laughed cynically as he adjusted the collar to his gray t-shirt.

"They're just going after me because of my colors. We're the low hanging fruit." Ronnie figured. "Why work harder, when you can just harass the guy who wears certain patches and rides a motorcycle."

"Well those certain patches evoke great fear and hatred." Les quipped sarcastically. "Your Dad would tell me all about how people loved or hated him being in the Hells Angels."

"Oh yeah, you don't get much in-between." Laughed the Doberman. "You got guys who really think you're cool, and other guys who wanna kill ya!"

"And police that wanna pinch ya on anything." Les pointed out.

"I'm really afraid I don't have a case..."

"Ron, look, I think your attorney wouldn't embark on this if they didn't feel like there was a case. I mean, from what you've told me, this woman doesn't fuck around."

"Oh noooooo...." Ronnie joked. "You're not the attorney for Rob Barion unless you know your shit that's for sure."

"And even if you don't know the person who is causing the crimes. Just the fact that they're constantly harassing you, accusing you of wrongdoing, and going as far as ejecting you and your son off your bike in a high speed chase- which you're lucky you and Colty weren't killed... I think that alone warrants a lawsuit."

"Yeah."

"It's just frustrating..." Les admitted. "I'm going through my own legal shit with my oldest kids..."

"Wait, I thought they were both in prison?"

"No, New York let them go a few months ago, something about needing to save space in overcrowding, and since they both were on good behavior, they let them out... and what did they do?"

"Oh boy."

"Rudy got arrested after apparently freebasing on coke and running around buck naked at Central Park, and Judy got busted for fraud, AGAIN." Les grumbled. "So both of them are heading back to jail..."

"Wow."

"This is my fault for putting the care of my two kids in the hands of my ex-wife." Les said with a roll of his dark blue eyes. "She's a god damn alcoholic and that whole divorce ruined Rudy and Judy."

"So what are you gonna go?"

"Be a good Dad and take care of their legal expenses, again, and pull several thousand dollars outta my ass to pay for Rudy's drug rehab, again."

Ronnie pursed his lips and just shook his head.

Les shook his head and sat down in his office chair. "Ugh, my god..." Les let out an exasperated sigh. "Rudy and Judy need help, and I don't know how to help them. They need fucking adult daycare, because they can't fight their impulses to do stupid shit, and I'm tired of it! It's always me that has to unfuck their shit because their Mom is next to useless, always messed up by the bottle!"

"That's why I don't drink anymore." Ronnie shook his head.

"This is all my fault." Les sighed. He put his head into his lap for a moment. "I put my god damn career before my family, and I put all my trust into my ex wife to raise them, and she became a damn alcoholic, and we fucked them all up getting divorced."

"It's not your fault, Uncle Les."

"I spent every waking moment in the god damn office, because that's what I thought a family man did! He provided for his family! I spent every little time bending over backwards for Xerox and those god damn xerography machines, and I ruined my marriage and my family. Maybe if I didn't do that, Candice wouldn't have drank herself silly, or my kids wouldn't have decided that making bad decisions was okay! Maybe your Dad was right..."

"Well Dad had to work long hours too."

"Yeah, but look how you turned out, Ron." Les pointed. The aging Dober got up and walked over to the wall, where a portrait of the late Dave Samson sat on display, next to their late Dad, Larry. Les leaned against the wall, admiring the portrait of his late brother smiling. "Your Dad told me once that I cared more about my job than my family, and I got really upset about it back then. I thought your Dad was full of shit, since he was always in with that club... always about the Hells Angels, just like Dad. But you turned out perfect."

"Heh, well I wouldn't say perfect~" Ronnie chuckled.

"You don't commit tax and welfare fraud like Judy, or freebase on random drugs and then wake up in a hospital or set yourself on fire like Rudy... and you stay out of trouble, and you're a great father to your son and now step-daughter. Your Dad raised you right. We used to argue and argue about stupid shit like that. Your Dad would tell me I was full of myself, I cared more about my job, and that it was going to hurt my family, and I didn't have anything to do with it because I had my fucking head in my ass. And I had my head up my ass for forty years until I had my heart attack! I never appreciated or thought about what your Dad had to say until all this shit started unfolding..."

"...and I regret not patching up our relationship before he passed."

Ronnie nodded with an introspective gaze.

"Your Dad was the most brutally honest person I ever knew. He would tell you like it is, and he wasn't afraid to ruffle feathers if he knew it was the right thing to do. Heh, we'd argue over silly things, like me saying he shouldn't be in a biker gang, and him telling me my glen plaid suit made my dick look tiny. I really wish Dave were here now..."

"I wish Dad was here too..."

"I'd love to call him up and just chat about things. When we weren't arguing, we'd hang out when he was in Queens, or I was in Chicago, and we'd laugh and have a fun time. Just like when we were kids. I really miss him and I miss Dad too. They were honest and did not take shit from anyone, and you shouldn't either and I should have appreciated that but never saw it until it was too late."

"Sometimes that happens, Uncle Les. We don't appreciate or think about something until it's too late."

"Unfortunately."

---

Scraping its bumper along the road, Rhonda Greeves arrived at Les' home, in her now beat up looking Taurus. The five year old black sedan had its trunk and rear all mangled from being rear ended by a SUV. Every bump on the road made the crumbled trunk slam down, the bumper precariously held on by just some bolts and wires. Rhonda pulled up to the curb and parked behind Les' Camry.

Throwing the door open, a tired and flustered looking Rhonda emerged. Almost sixty, the aging red Doberman had graying brown hair that was kept kind of short and concealed beneath a pink hat. Rhonda wore slacks and a red t-shirt. She fetched her purse from the passenger seat and threw the door shut. She stood at the back of her car and just grumbled at the damage. Marching to the front door, she rang the doorbell and was quickly whisked inside to celebrate her birthday that was in a few days.

"Sorry I'm late!" Rhonda announced as she gave her only son a tight hug. "It's been one of those days!"

"Relax, relax!" Martha assured. "The cake is almost done!"

"Oh you shouldn't have- oh hello Talon, hello!"

"Misses Greeves, hi~" Talon hugged.

"Oh just call me Rhonda, okay!"

"Okay, Rhonda!"

"Sorry, Talon, I'm a hot mess today~" Rhonda laughed sardonically.

"I didn't know you were my ex!" Talon teased.

"Please~" Rhonda laughed. "Hi Colty! Emily!"

"Hi!" the kids greeted happily as they got hugs from Ronnie's Mom.

"So you got rear ended, huh?" Les said amusingly.

"And in all places, the damn intersection at the hospital..." Rhonda rolled her eyes. "I just made the turn and this taxi comes out of nowhere and BOOM!" She rubbed her neck and winced. "You got some Tylenol, Les?"

"You're gonna have ambulance chasers come left and right begging you to lawyer up!" Talon grinned.

"Please, like I have that kind of money with all this shit going on- sorry Ronnie, it's been a rough day." Rhonda said as she took a seat at the dinner table.

"It's fine. I get it." Ronnie smiled. "Shit happens."

Over an early dinner, Rhonda told everyone about the situation about her mother, the ailing and demented Patricia. After falling and breaking her hip earlier in the year, Patricia was back in the hospital again for a recurring infection, in serious condition. Rhonda remarked that she felt that her mother was getting close to end. Ronnie could see on her face the immense sadness that she was facing. After dinner, Martha brought out a cake she had made, which had two candles that read "60". Wishing her a happy birthday, Rhonda blew out the candles with a round of applause.

"Here, I got a surprise for you!" Ronnie said as he walked over to plug his thumb drive into the big TV on the wall.

"Oh what's this?" Rhonda asked, turning around in her chair.

"Me and the band whipped this up for you~" Ronnie announced as he selected the video file. It was a shot recorded at the clubhouse of their concert for the block party, with Killian announcing the intro.

"So in a few weeks, Ronnie's Mom turns sixty!" the big malamute exclaimed to a big applause. "So we thought it would be appropriate to sing this classic Beach Boys hit for her!"

"Oh my god..." Rhonda said with a smile.

"Help me Rhonda!" Killian exclaimed as he started jamming with his guitar. The shot cut to Ronnie playing Todd's guitar, as they began the intro to "Help me Rhonda". The audience laughed and clapped to the cheesy little sixties song.

"Help me Rhonda

Help, help me Rhonda

Help me Rhonda

Help, help me Rhonda

Help me Rhonda

Help, help me Rhonda

Help me Rhonda

Help, help me Rhonda

Help me Rhonda

Help, help me Rhonda

Help me Rhonda

Help, help me Rhonda

Help me Rhonda, yeah!"

"Get her out of my heart!" Todd yelled out, replicating Mike Love's backing vocals.

Rhonda got a big kick out of the video, and Ronnie watched the happiness return to her face. "Oh my god, Ronnie, you didn't have to do that!"

"Happy Birthday Mom!"

---

Taking a moment of privacy to themselves, Ronnie and Rhonda stepped out back to work on some paperwork. Under the shade of the back porch and the big maple tree providing shelter over the landscaped back, Rhonda took Ronnie's big green binder and flipped through it to sign legal documents over her future home in Newark. Rhonda looked serious as she read the documents.

"So it's not good, huh?"

"No, Ron, sadly, it's not." Rhonda shook her head before scribbling her initials down in a section. "Mom's in really bad shape."

"I understand."

"When I went to see her today... I stepped into her room, and she woke up and asked me who the hell I am... I told her that I was her youngest daughter and she looked so confused. She's completely forgotten who I am."

Ronnie frowned and looked sad.

Rhonda sighed. "She was going downhill, and just breaking her hip has accelerated the process. She got pneumonia the first time leaving the hospital... and now she's back with an infection. I just don't know how much more her body will take from this..."

"Maybe that will be a blessing Mom."

"If she just went to sleep and passed, I'd be so relieved for her. She's suffering, Ronnie, and there's nothing I can do about it." Rhonda admitted bitterly. "I've been stuck watching her fade away the past couple years and it's been so painful. And it's not like I'm getting any help from my damn sister Cathy..."

"Well it wasn't like Cathy ever involved herself in anything that didn't benefit her..." Ronnie rolled his eyes.

"She's gonna come barging in and make a big spectacle about this, you just watch, Ron. She's gonna wade her fatass in and just fuck everything up because she's a self absorbed, self-righteous religious zealot! And I'm trying to get Mom's legal arrangements in place, and she didn't have half that shit prepared when I told her to do it and- GAHHHHHH!"

Rhonda rubbed her forehead and put her head down on the binder for a moment. "I'm sorry, Ron. Your Mom's really frustrated."

"Oh I know all about frustrations with all the shit I'm dealing with back home." Ronnie admitted. "I feel backed into a corner! I got federal agents, local police all breathing down my neck, and for what!? Because someone else who looks like me is causing all this crime, and the cops just wanna focus on me because I'm the biker wearing the notorious colors?"

"Me and your father dealt with that shit all the time. If someone said 'biker' in any incident, then here comes the po-po, looking for Dave and wanting to ask him questions. I'd get so annoyed, but your father was so calm about it. It never bothered him."

"That was Dad. Always calm."

"I wish he was still around." Rhonda sighed. "I wish... I would have thought about it back then."

"I think we could all use Dad right about now..." Ronnie nodded. "I know I sure could."

"When the time comes, do you think I should bring my furniture along? God it's so old..." Rhonda chuckled as she flipped a few pages and signed in another spot.

"Well I actually got the house with some furniture in it." Ronnie explained. "Rob granted me the money to do that."

"You have a wonderful friend."

"I don't know how I'd ever repay him for everything he's done for me." Ronnie explained.

"I just want to leave that dump of a place in Teterboro and just move on from that chapter in my life." Rhonda said as she closed up the binder and handed back his pen. "Start new, you know?"

"I know it. That's how it felt when I came to Newark last year. A new chapter in my life."

Ronnie took a step over and gave his mom a tight hug. "Everything's gonna be okay, Mom. What will be, will be, for Grandma."

"And you stay strong in all this bullshit too, Ronnie. Do it for you son."

"I know."

Rhonda mustered a smile for him. "I'm so proud of you."

Ronnie smiled and hugged his Mom tightly again. "I love you, Mom."

"Love you too, Ronnie." Rhonda said with a happy smile. "Everything's gonna be okay~"

"When you're going through hell, keep going~"

"Ha, exactly." Rhonda laughed. "You sound experienced?"

"Heh!"

---

By evening it was time to depart for Ohio. With the sun growing low on the horizon, Uncle Les dropped Ronnie, Talon, Emily, and Colt off at JFK, where they were taken by security to the Freightmaster loading ramp. On the tarmac, surrounded by Joey Paulo's propliners in the midst of unloading and loading cargo, sat the Convairliner. They quickly boarded, turned around, and began the journey back home to Ohio.

The fading light of the day gently filtered into the cabin of the C-131, as it droned along against a headwind. Emily and Colt were sound asleep, while Ronnie and Talon sat on the big couch, listening to the R-2800's burble.

"I think that was a lot of fun." Talon remarked. "Ya'know, I'm just starting to get used to this jet set lifestyle with you~"

"Oh my god, you are so full of shit." Ronnie laughed, staring at Talon's shit-eating grin.

"Just saying~" he grinned playfully. "Get up in the morning, fly to New York, and then come back home for a neat day trip? Heh, I'll take it~"

"Beats working huh?"

"Adult daycaring." Talon jokingly grimaced.

"That's why I love my job." Ronnie chuckled. "I don't have to adult daycare!"

"Nah, you just gotta listen to full of themselves artists who think they're all that~"

"Okay, yeah, that's a point." Ronnie admitted with a laugh. "Well if you don't like how I cut your song, fucking it cut it yourself!"

"Same with my field of business! Don't like how I trim your bush, trim the motherfucker yourself!" Talon laughed. "I'll trim your bush, Ronnie~"

"Perhaps later..." Ronnie snickered. He looked away for a moment to gaze out the window at a colorful cloud passing by. "I can't help but feel bad for my Mom, you know?"

"She's in a rough place."

"A lot of misery this year." Ronnie nodded. "But to watch that happen to your mom... that's rough."

"I'm thankful my Grandma is still kicking at eighty-seven." Talon nodded. "My Grandpa got dementia at the end of his life, and it was awful."

"And seeing Cy's Grandma... after she wrecked her car... and how fast she tanked... I just wish Grandma would pass. For everyone's sake. And it makes me sad you know? I never got to know her, because Patricia didn't approve of my mom marrying Dad and... that lifestyle or whatever the fuck that means..."

"Her loss, to be honest." Talon shrugged.

"I guess so." Ronnie shrugged in return. "It hurts more, especially since I'm going through all this shit myself."

"Sometimes we gotta weather the bad to appreciate the good, Ronnie." Talon suggested. "I thought the same thing after that whole disaster happened with my ex..."

"Goes to show you don't stick your dick in crazy, Talon!"

"Crazy won't die either." The Doberman laughed with a grin.

"Oh boy..." Ronnie chuckled. "And to think we've been together for... about a year now."

"Yep! I gotta get you something for that."

"Oh it's fine~ I got you." Ronnie smiled.

"Stud material, Ron~"

"Shart material."

"HEY! It was that one time!"

"One time in my fucking bed!" Ronnie laughed. "Change my fucking sheets because you thought that fart was a fart!"

"That's what happens when you bottom too much." Talon joked.

Ronnie just shook his head and chuckled. "Jesus Christ, Talon."

"Whoa, whoa, don't gimme that much credit! I can't part the seas!"

Ronnie leaned back in the couch and laughed with him. "I needed that laugh~"

"Laughter is the best medicine." Talon smiled as he rubbed Ronnie's arm affectionately. "Everything's gonna work out in the end, trust me."

"I sure hope so." Ronnie nodded. "I could use some good news after the past two months of bullshit!"

As the last light of the day slipped away, they returned back to Newark-Heath, with the Convairliner touching down perfectly on the runway centerline. Rumbling up to the ramp, Rob and Joey turned and parked the Navy Samaritan. As the engines were powered down, the airstair deployed, its hatch opening and the folded up set of stairs deploying and unfurling.

Ronnie stepped out, helping Emily and Colt down the steps to the pavement. As he reached the pavement, his phone rang. Grabbing it, he found Adam calling him.

"'Sup, Adam?"

"Dude! We're climbing in the charts!"

Ronnie stopped in his tracks. "What? Really?"

"Hellraiser is now in the sixties on Billboard! The singles are taking off like a rocket!" Adam exclaimed all excitedly. "Our YouTube page is on fire with views! Downloads are skyrocketing!"

"Holy fuck, how? What singles?"

"You won't fucking believe this dude, but it's the two silly singles we made. Black and White and She's a Beauty."

"No fucking way, Adam. Those two?"

"Yeah! We're getting so many likes and compliments. I can't believe it man."

"Wow." Ronnie muttered. "This could be our big break!"

"Yeah! I'll keep you posted man."

"Thanks~"

Ronnie put his phone away and stood there for a moment. Was this a sign that maybe good things would come?

---

Dark storm clouds hung low over Cincinnati, drenching the city in a torrential downpour. Streetlights glowed as lightning flashed in the turbulent skies above, with a tremendous clap of thunder. The rain beaded against the tinted windows of the FBI's branch office, as a big meeting went underway in the conference room.

Sitting at the long table were deputies and police officers from all of central Ohio's major police departments. The assistant chiefs of the Newark and Zanesville police department, two detectives from Columbus, two Deputies from Licking County's Sheriff Department, a Deputy from Coshocton county, and a police officer each from Westerville, Whitehall, and Groveport police. Other FBI agents, including Agent Clark from Cleveland sat around the table. On one side of the conference room, multiple whiteboards were rolled into place, with photographs and notes from the various crimes being tacked up by Agent Dove. A projector glowed at the end of the table to a white screen, showing a still image of their suspect in a low resolution security camera shot.

Dove smacked the most recent crime up at the end of the whiteboard, a reported assault of a woman by their suspect, and a subsequent attempted shooting and reported chase by members of the Outlaws MC against the suspect.

"We have reported drug dealing, overdoses, assaults, robberies, a shooting, and now this." Dove pointed. "All with the reports that the suspect matched the description of our targeted individual."

Dove pointed to a photograph of Ronnie Samson. "All the reports say this person did this, but how could Ronald Samson be responsible for the latest incident when he wasn't even in the state? How can someone be in two places at the same time? This reported assault here happened on the first, how could Ron Samson be responsible when he was seen at home the entire day? How could a person who was pretty banged up in a motorcycle crash be able to muster the strength to do that? Or this robbery? How could Ron Samson have committed a robbery when he was in Akron at the clubhouse? Seen by the helicopter before it crashed..."

The gray wolf walked over to the table where all the officers, deputies, and agents sat around. "Folks, I have reason to believe that we have an imposter at work here and we're going after the wrong guy."

There was an eruption of conversation as everyone tried to talk over each other, clambering what they thought about it. Dove tried to bring order to the office by telling everyone to be quiet.

"Quiet down! Quiet down!" Agent Casper yelled.

"Thanks, Cap. What I am saying is that, I have reason to believe that Ron Samson is not responsible for this."

"That's preposterous!" exclaimed a Licking County Deputy. "You have a guy who is a member of the Hells Angels, an outlaw biker gang, and a suspect that fits his profile like a glove!"

"But how do you explain these crimes happening when we are aware of Samson's whereabouts?" asked the assistant chief of the Zanesville PD. The German Shepherd looked at Dove, and at his counterparts. "He can't possibly beat someone up when one, he's injured from a motorcycle crash, and two, in Queens, New York..."

"...And that's been verified by New York State Police." Agent Clark chimed in.

"He can't rob someone when he's home recovering." Agent Casper added.

Dove shook his head and walked over to the projected image on the wall. "Look at this security camera footage."

"Yeah, it looks like a potato recorded it." Chuckled an officer.

"Yes... I am well aware that there's a problem with the quality of the security camera footage we've obtained..." Dove admitted with a cynical quip. He pointed at the screen again. "Look at the footage we shot of Ron Samson walking with his son, and look at the video of the suspect after a reported mugging in Zanesville on the CCTV. Look at how Ron walks, he walks with a very relaxed pose, while the suspect in this video walks with his arms close to him, looking tense. In all the surveillance footage, the suspect looks tense when he walks, while in all the footage of Ronnie, he walks with a confident swagger, and a relaxed pose and the clothes don't match!"

"There could be a reason behind it." The Groveport cop tried to explain. "Maybe that footage was acquired after the crime? You can't hide guilt."

"Time code places it before the reported incidents and does he change clothes too?"

"Maybe the victim got their times wrong?"

"In all interviews with Ron Samson, his alibi checks out. He has been cooperative with all of our inquiries, if not frustrated by it. We have intercepted his phone calls, texts, and online communications, and not once have we found any criminal activity, or conversations hinting at criminal activity." Dove explained.

"Hell, we looked into his criminal background and got just two speeding tickets." Casper grumbled. "There's nothing on his criminal background."

"He passed a drug test, and didn't even have nicotine in his system!" Dove exclaimed.

"We tore that whole house apart top down and found nothing." A Licking County Deputy pointed out.

"I have reason to believe that we are targeting the wrong man." Dove concluded. "While he fits the profile because of his association with a notorious motorcycle gang, surveillance seems to place him always in another location when these crimes happen."

"And he showed up here to confront us." Casper added. "Who would do something like that?"

"That's a mighty bold move if you're dirty..." Agent Brannigan chimed in as well.

"That and suing the FBI..." Dove added. "You don't sue a federal agency and open yourself up to major legal scrutiny if you're guilty..."

"Then who the hell would it be?" The assistant chief of Newark Police asked Dove.

"Well, I don't know, frankly."

"Jesus Christ, Dove."

"This is giving me a headache..." Agent Casper remarked. "It makes absolutely no sense."

"Why would you go and visit the two FBI agents who were injured falling out of a tree?" Newark's assistant chief asked.

"They said him and his son were very courteous when visiting." Brannigan added.

"His son is a real angel." Casper remarked too.

"...And why would you go and visit a shooting victim and ask about who did it..." a Licking County Deputy pondered. "...unless you were looking for the person who did it."

"The man said that Ron Samson ran over to tend to him after the shooting. The victim said that they looked similar, but the shooter had hair that was dyed black and the natural hair color was showing in the roots." Newark's assistant chief added. "Ron Samson also regularly wears his Hells Angels stuff. The shooter wore just dark leathers with no patches."

"All the images of the suspect in these incidents show no patches that denote membership of any club."

"I think Samson is looking for his imposter..." Dove thought out loud. "I think we need to get to the bottom of this."

"Hold, on, hold on, holy shit." Exclaimed the Zanesville cop. "I just received word about an incident that just happened about twenty minutes ago in Z-town."

"Yeah?" Dove said, running over. "What is it Brad?"

"Do you have the number for that fax machine?"

"Yeah!" Dove exclaimed as he read it out.

"ZPD is reporting an assault that happened at a parking lot near the Y-Bridge. Apparently the suspect was on his bike and someone confronted him about parking in a business parking lot, when that person got their jaw jacked. He managed to get a photo, a good one, and they want to fax it over."

"Well send it!" everyone exclaimed.

Within a minute, the fax machine rumbled to life, and a picture was spat out in brilliant color. Dove grabbed it to find a very high quality picture of a red Doberman, sitting on a motorcycle with his back partially turned to the camera. The image looked like it came from being shot outside a window. The suspect had wavy long hair that was almost black, but towards the roots, a dark brown was evident. He wore shiny black leather pants and jacket, and polished boots that had a brilliant sheen. A phone was in his grip.

Dove's face was squinted with the look of concentration at all the details. In all the times he's met Ronnie, Samson always wore his Hells Angels attire. His vest, or tanktop, or t-shirt, it all was proudly marked with his colors of his club. This figure had none of that, and the bike looked different now that it was properly photographed with a nicer camera.

Dove showed it to all the cops, who poured over that photo.

"Hey wait a second, that's an Indian Scout Bobber!" exclaimed Agent Casper.

"How do you know?"

"My brother-in-law has a Scout Bobber just like this, but his has a matte black stock exhaust system. This one has an aftermarket chrome exhaust setup."

"Where did he get his from?"

"The Indian dealership in Westerville."

Dove fumbled his brow. "Mister Samson drives a early nineties Fatboy."

Everyone looked at each other with uneasy eyes.

Casper examined the photo again. "If I'm not mistaken, this bike doesn't look like it's more than two years old. That's when my brother got his, and that looks exactly like it!"

"And there's no other place to get a new Indian?"

"Well there's a place in Akron, and one in West Virginia... so unless our target lives in Akron... my best guess would be it came from Columbus?"

"I would assume the target is local? Since the crimes are all around central Ohio..."

Dove pursed his lips as he thought about it.

---

After the conference, Dove took the photograph and marched down the hallway for the elevator. He pressed the button quickly, and boarded the first one that came to the floor. He went up a floor to the main offices, and Dove quickly made his way to his superior's office.

Throwing the door open, Dove stepped into his superior's office, Chief Saunders. At his desk on the phone, sat a middle aged sandy brown wolf, with tousled brown hair that was graying. He wore dark blue slacks and a gray and blue striped polo that was loosely buttoned at the collar.

"Hang on, Sue, hang on- what Dove? I'm on the phone!"

"I need to speak to you when you're done, Saunders."

"Oh boy..." the wolf muttered. He reached over to un-mute his call. "Sue, I gotta call you back in a bit. Okay. Thanks. Bye." Saunders slammed the phone down on the receiver. "Okay, what do you need, Dove?"

Dove held up the photo. "I think we have a major problem on our hands, Saunders."

"A major problem...?"

"I have credible reason to believe that we are targeting the wrong individual in the central Ohio crime investigations. The whereabouts of Ron Samson do not match up to the reported times of these crimes, and with this critical piece of evidence in this photograph... showing a completely different motorcycle? Saunders, I think we're going after the wrong man."

"I think you're wrong, Dove."

"I think you're wrong, Saunders." Dove glared back. "In the past two and a half months of surveillance of our targeted individual, I have not seen at any one time, any criminal intent by Ron Samson. There have been crimes reported by a figure that matched his description, but Samson was out of state, or he was verified as being at work or at home. This figure was photographed right before an assault in Zanesville, and that motorcycle he's sitting on is a Scout Bobber- Samson owns a Fatboy by Harley Davidson. Ron Samson is always seen with his Hells Angels attire, and the suspect in all incidents were seen in just dark leathers with no cut."

Saunders seemed uninterested. "Perhaps he's just throwing us off by doing that?"

"Saunders, how in the world can Samson be in two places at the same time? Or somehow have a motorcycle that we know nothing about?"

"That's what criminals do! They're sneaky!" Saunders shrugged.

"We have every single thing Samson is doing under monitoring! Financial transactions, phone calls, and until the helicopter crashed... aerial surveillance." Dove tried to explain. "In our nearly three months of monitoring, we have not found a single shred of any wrongdoing on his part, or any criminal activity. And I think it's time we end the investigation on Samson, clear his name, and move on to find this person in the photograph."

"We are not ending the investigation into Ron Samson."

"Then I want a parallel investigation into this figure."

"No."

Dove looked flustered. "We are potentially setting ourselves up for a nasty payout if we keep going after an innocent person."

"An innocent Hells Angel? Hah!" Saunders laughed. "He's gonna slip up sooner or later..."

Dove blinked a few times at what he was hearing. "What do you mean?"

"I want surveillance on him, because I know he's going to slip up sooner or later. They all do. That's what they do as outlaw bikers. Who the hell wants to be a god damn outlaw biker and just not do crime? That's what they do!"

Dove looked away for a moment and maintained his composure. "You are setting us up to fail with this."

"How so?"

"We're already being sued by Ron Samson for harassment, and he may very well have a legitimate case, with legitimate consequences if he's proven to be innocent and we've targeted the wrong person this whole time... it could cost the FBI millions, and worse, cost all of us our god damn jobs."

"I don't think that's going to happen."

"Never say never, Saunders."

"Dove, you are assigned to this case, and you are going to do it. Period. And you're going to get to the bottom of this!"

Dove bitterly nodded. "Very well then." He turned to walk towards the door. "Can't say I didn't warn you."

Dove left and closed the door behind him. In complete silence, Dove returned to his office and closed the door behind him. He grabbed a bottle of water from his mini fridge and sat down, just as a big rumble of thunder resonated through his spacious office. At his desk, Dove looked introspective as he watched the rain come down hard, concealing Cincinnati in a gray abyss. He thought about the investigation, and how things weren't adding up. He thought about the potential consequences to his career should their investigation turn up nothing, especially after multiple people were hurt and a helicopter totaled.

Clicking through some folders pertaining to the investigation, Dove watched some footage of Ronnie that was shot a few days before the motorcycle crash. The video showed Ronnie and his son watering their garden, and they both looked so happy together as they bonded over watering the plants. After watching the video, he pulled up an audio recording of a phone call between him and his Mom. Ronnie sounded frustrated over the police scrutiny in his life.

"Mom, I just don't get it. I don't know what I did to bring this upon me?"

"What happened now?"

"Well I got fucking questioned over a banana peel!"

"A banana peel?"

"Someone slipped and fell at the damn swimming pool and they blamed me for it because I was seen eating a banana! I threw the peel away, and apparently some dumbfuck threw trash into the can and knocked the peel out and down goes this woman, who struck her head on the step and had to go to the hospital..."

"Well that's certainly not your fault, Ronnie!"

"Well you tell them! Questioned over someone slipping on a banana peel!"

A knock at the door made Dove quickly exit out of the recording. "Come in!" he called.

The door opened, revealing Agents Casper, Brannigan, and Clark. The gray wolf, German Shepherd, and Doberman stepped in, as Brannigan closed the door. They all took a seat around Dove's desk.

"What's up?" Dove asked.

"We heard you and Saunders had a few words just now." Casper chuckled as he crossed his arms. "Everything alright?"

"No, things are not alright." Dove admitted.

"Oh yeah?" they all muttered.

"I think we're heading on a collision course with the reality that we have someone else doing the crime and we're latched onto the wrong person."

"Yeah... I think that's how I'm starting to feel..." Agent Brannigan nodded. She looked a bit hesitant. "The evidence is just not matching up perfectly."

"The amount of surveillance would surely capture something, and it hasn't." Clark shook his head.

"That's what I'm thinking too..." Dove nodded. "I tried to explain this to Chief, and he wasn't having it. I think we need to at minimal, open a parallel investigation into the matter, because I'm afraid if we don't, we're all gonna be out of a job."

"Two FBI agents severely hurt, a helicopter destroyed..." Casper shook his head. "It's a recipe for disaster."

"And we're gonna be the fall guys when shit hits the fan." Dove grumbled. Everyone agreed with that.

"If there's a jury sympathetic enough... we're fucked in that lawsuit." Clark nodded.

"Especially if we got the wrong guy..." Brannigan grimaced.

"I think we have the wrong guy." Dove admitted bluntly. He held up the photo of the biker and his bike. "I'm gonna look into this matter regardless if it's officially sanctioned or not."

"I would." Brannigan encouraged.

"I'm gonna nip this in the ass once and for all." Dove said, his fingers tapping on the paper.

---

Adjusting the microphone clipped to his long sleeve t-shirt, Ronnie waited for the end of the commercial break in the recording studio. With the tinted windows providing him with an expansive backdrop of downtown Columbus, Ronnie sat with a local DJ to conduct an interview on a nationally syndicated radio station. A big Rottweiler sat at an angle to Ronnie, watching the countdown before the start of the interview. He was around Ronnie's age and wore casual clothes, a pair of blue gym shorts and a gray t-shirt. Ronnie wore his leather pants and a black long-sleeve shirt that read "HAMC" down both sleeves. He had his long hair tied into a wavy ponytail behind his head.

The red light on the microphone flashed red as Ronnie listened to the introductory music return the program back on from the commercial break. "And as promised, we have Mister Ron Samson, lead singer of the Chicago based rock band, Hard Times. Thank you, Ronnie!"

"Good to be here today, Mack. Thanks~" Ronnie smiled.

"You are part of a band with a very neat blend of sound, a fascinating yet tragic history, and now an attempted comeback?"

"That's correct, yeah, it's been a wild half-decade for all of us."

"Hellraiser is your first attempt at an album since 2016, and the first since the plane crash that ended the band seven years ago. You have a fantastic album that has just recently gained major momentum in viral media, so how does that feel to you and the band?"

"Oh, it's fantastic, Mack, it's music to our ears after having such a sluggish start." Ronnie explained. "We weren't sure what was going to happen when we embarked on this project, because we were kind of uncertain of what direction we were going to go after getting the chance to reform the band after the legal riffraff was resolved."

"Now when you say legal riffraff, Ronnie."

"So when we signed up with Carson Records a decade ago, there was a little section in the fine print that Carson could essentially own our brand, everything. And when the plane crash happened, and Eddy Halen was killed, and everything just fell apart in lawsuits and chaos, and despair, Carson essentially took everything, royalties, you name it, and denied it completely to us to recoup their losses. They reissued the albums without consulting us to make money, and we were told under the penalty of the law that if we used the name Hard Times for anything, we would be sued and tied up in litigation. And I don't know about you, but I'm no lawyer."

"That makes me think of the saying, what do I look like? A lawyer?" The Rottweiler chuckled with a deep, raspy cackle.

"Ha, yeah, exactly." Ronnie chuckled.

"So now that Viking Records bought out Carson, they gave you back the rights to the name."

"Yeah, when Carson was bought out and merged in with Viking Records, Varg Eikemo bought our song catalogue, the rights, and gave it back to us. So we got back our first self-titled album, and the second album, Biker Soul. And we plan on re-releasing them once the tooling to the vinyl plant Varg is setting up gets operational."

"Well I listened to both albums, and I listened to Hellraiser, and despite that seven year gap, and everything that has transpired, I feel like it's almost seamless."

"A lot of those songs, we wrote, with the intention that Hellraiser would be released in 2018 or something like that. And we just kept it on the backburner to wait out the legal crap."

"It's a neat blend of genres. It has the metal sound in places, but also seventies hard rock, blues, and even a touch of pop and new wave sprinkled in. I love the blend of genres and it makes it sound really unique."

"That's what we aimed for, since we all have similar and differing tastes in music. Todd and Colt came from a speed metal band that broke up, Adam really likes his synth, Killian and Don and myself have an affinity for eighties music, so we like to combine all this to make us all happy. We're a very democratic band, and we all work together to make something we all like as best as possible."

"Sometimes that works in bands, and sometimes it doesn't. When I was a teenager, I tried my luck with a band, but we just never could agree on anything, and it didn't last long."

"Yeah, it's a balancing act for sure."

"I want to talk about the singles, Ron, since I'm sure as you're aware, the two singles that brought Hellraiser into the spotlight and the accelerated climb in the charts, doesn't even sound like a typical Hard Times song!"

"Ha! Yeah, go figure our luck on that. We're having our own 'Beth' moment~"

"Just like Kiss and 'Beth', heh~" Mack chuckled.

"She's a Beauty is a neat tune, with a nice new wave like polish, and Killian's voice goes very well with it. He brings a powerful, but really smooth voice that does that song justice, and gives it that vibe that The Tubes' could muster as well."

"That's why we wanted Kills to sing it, since my voice wasn't as good sounding. I get gruff in certain sections, while Kills can stay on it." Nodded the Dober.

"Black and White... that one really is interesting... And that's one that seems to be getting a lot of talk about."

"Well it's funny on that song... We only recorded that because my son really liked it. We were at the record store one day and he saw this old forty-five that he wanted to get, so I got it along with a box of records to replace those that were ruined in a police raid on my home... more on that later... but Colty really liked it. Three Dog Night's 1972 cover has this interesting little pop fling to a fifties song about desegregation in public schools. And we wanted to capture that, since I think that song is just as important today than it was back in 1954. It certainly feels like we're divided and at each other's throats, and this constant tension over silly stuff is not good. And music has always united people, music has always been used to convey social commentary, and Black and White does just that. Plus, it gave a chance for our kids and their friends to sing in it too, which they sing the chorus with us in the third half of the song."

"I thought that was very sweet. It's what makes that song have a really neat charm, plus your kids get to partake in the song making process!"

"Ha, now they'll want to sing in every song!" Ronnie laughed with Mack.

"Kids will be kids~"

"As of this morning when I looked at the charts, She's a Beauty is holding at number forty-nine, and Black and White is forty-eight, so how does that make you feel, Ron?"

"Blown away."

"And Hellraiser has climbed four spots to forty-nine as well for the album charts. How do you plan on promoting it?"

"Well that's been something me and the guys are talking about, but it's been made more difficult because of my legal situation currently."

"You mentioned before that you had the police raid your home?"

"I am... not at liberty at this time to discuss specifics in my legal situation, on recommendation of my attorney, but I am working to clear my name of wrongdoing in this lawsuit."

"Well I wish you the best of luck."

"Thanks, Mack, I appreciate that. We were hoping earlier this year that if the album did well, we would embark on a small tour... had this happened several years ago, it would have been another big tour... but in the seven years, we've all established careers. Killian and Colt work for Ford Motor's largest parts warehouse in the midwest, Don and Todd now are working at Chicago's Centoh hub with Rob Barion's business division, and me and Adam wound up working for Viking. So when we got back together, we said the music is our passion, but it has to take a sort of back seat, because we all have families and lives now, and that's just the way it's gonna be."

"Plus club responsibilities since all of you are members of the Hells Angels."

"That too. But when you make a lot of money for the club, you always have a bit of leeway." Ronnie grinned with a laugh.

"Money talks right?"

"Works for Washington~" Ronnie laughed.

"So do you have a plan on promoting the album?"

"We're working on some ideas with Varg and Rob at this time."

"I see, I see."

"So hopefully once the legal storm clouds let up, then we can embark on something a bit more ambitious. But right now? It is what it is."

"Understandable."

"I'm thankful right now that people are listening to our music, especially after a seven year pause. A lot of bands don't recover from something like that. I'm really thankful that I can be here, since there were times where I doubted it would ever happen again, especially after losing everything over the course of nearly six years."

"If you don't mind telling the audience a bit about that, Ron?"

"Well after Hard Times broke apart, I lost all my money in lawsuits defending myself. I had to sell my sports car, my condo, everything. Then my Grandpa passed away, followed by my girlfriend, then Dad, and soon it was just me and my son, living in a rundown apartment I could barely afford working at a biker car cooking food eighty, ninety hours a week. Then that apartment burned down, and we had nothing left. What saved me and my son was the niceness of Varg and Rob. They picked up my distress call, and they flew all the way from Ohio to Chicago, in a pouring rainstorm, in the middle of the night, and got us home to our new lives in Newark. So even though right now I'm faced with this legal hurdle? I'm still thankful because me and my son really didn't have anything but the clothes on our backs when we left Chicago. Sometimes you have to weather the bad to really appreciate the good, ya know?"

"I get that, Ron, I get that completely."

"So even if we might have to miss the momentum because of my legal affairs, ah, well, I still appreciate everyone that's listening in to our music. That makes me happy, it makes all of us in the band happy, and that's what matters most."

"Indeed it is. Well we have to cut over to a commercial break, and we'll gladly pick up where we left off in ninety seconds. This is Mack Smith with Music Today."

---

Departing for home, Ronnie rode through the congested streets of downtown Columbus. He followed the ebb and flow of traffic through all the intersections to make his way east to Newark. As he rode, noticing the curious onlookers to his rough n' tough looks, Ronnie thought about his lawsuit. It would be a couple of months before the first trial date in October, but he was already deposed, and so was his son, and all the parties involved. Ronnie had a feeling after his deposition that it was going to be a rough battle.

Taking a detour to avoid a crash, Ronnie hopped on I-71N and merged with traffic to head north towards Worthington and the outerbelt. Passing by a slow semi truck, he noticed a bunch of kids in a summer camp bus waving at him. Ronnie smiled and waved back as he passed by, even giving his bike a roar for them as they continued waving on. It brought a momentary respite to his frustrations over the situation he was in. He was engaging in a tough lawsuit that he knew for certain the feds were gonna draw out to make it financially painful for him, right at the worst possible time as their music was taking off in the charts. How in the world could they promote their album, their music, with their careers, and now an entire legal debacle over crimes Ronnie did not commit? The thought gave him a headache.

Passing through Westerville, Ronnie pulled off to Route 3, to refuel at a BP station. He hopped off his bike, still wincing a bit from his ribs as he paid to go put gas in his bike. Shoving the nozzle into the cap, Ronnie squeezed the trigger and watched the dollars flow on the pump. As he stood there, listening to the road noise, he heard the unmistakable deep throaty roar of motorcycles. He turned his head to just freeze.

Pulling into the BP was a gaggle of bikers, members of the Outlaws MC. Ronnie felt his heart sink. The arch rival to the Angels, the Outlaws were one of the big one percenters. Ronnie was in Outlaws territory, as they had two clubhouses in Columbus. Pulling up on a big black Harley was a tough looking malamute, with huge beefy arms as tattooed up as his own. Blackened sunglasses concealed his eyes as he hopped off, wearing heavy black boots, jeans that were torn at the knees, and a leather cut over a tanktop, complete with the red eyed skull and crossbones insignia of the Outlaws. He wore a shiny black helmet that read "FURIOUS FLOOF" in the same old English type that his colors read. The malamute practically towered over Ronnie as he stared at him with a menacing gaze.

"Hey man, I'm just getting gas." Ronnie calmly said. "I'll be heading back to Newark."

The malamute fumbled his brow and looked back at his buddies. "This ain't the dude that shot at us, relax."

Ronnie blinked a few times in confusion.

The malamute took his sunglasses off, revealing dark green eyes on his black, gray, and white furred face. He had a chinstrap beard like Ronnie, ending with a bushy goatee that was salt and pepper.

"You don't dye your hair crappy and you got a 'strap like me, plus you're a Hells Angel."

"You must be talking about the motherfucker who's giving me problems..." Ronnie responded.

"He looks like you, has long wavy hair, and drives a Scout Bobber that's a holographic brown and black. But he ain't a one percenter."

"That's the guy I'm looking for..."

"Hey small world."

"Look I'm not here for any trouble man, I'm just passing through to head home to Newark."

"Nah, we're not here to beat the fuck outta you if that's what you're worried about." The malamute chuckled. He surprisingly held out a leather gloved paw. "Name's Bruce~"

"Ronnie~"

"That's funny, that's the name of the guy we're after..." Bruce said amusingly.

"Ronnie Samson. Akron chapter of the Hells Angels."

"We're from east Columbus." Bruce explained. "So he's been giving problems to you too huh?"

"You could say that..." Ronnie grimaced. "I'm constantly being accused of fucking crimes all through central Ohio apparently, by someone who matches my description. But I know it's that motherfucker you guys are after."

"The dude's been fucking around in Outlaws territory, and he crossed a big red line assaulting a friend of my wife's." Bruce explained. "So we caught him recently selling weed to teenagers, and when we confronted him about the beating up Shannon, he shot at us and fled. And we took chase and almost got him until a car pulled out in front of us..."

"I hate when that happens..." Ronnie said, awkwardly smiling a bit.

"You don't sell drugs in our turf." Bruce shook his head. "So the police decided you're the guy since you're a biker and that automatically has to mean you're doing crime right?"

"Yeah, how she goes for all of us." Ronnie chuckled. "I'm currently suing the FBI, and the Licking County Sheriff's Office."

"Fuck the Licking County Sheriff's Office." Bruce hissed. "I'm originally from Newark, and I hate those motherfuckers. That's the most corrupt county in Ohio."

"Oh yeah? I've heard a bit about that."

Bruce raised a brow. "You're not from Newark are you?"

"I'm from Chicago. Moved to Newark last year for work."

"Oh boy... you're in for a big awakening in small town corruption." Bruce chuckled cynically.

"So I've noticed." Ronnie rolled his eyes. "I'd love to figure out who the fuck this dude is, so I can get the feds off my back!"

"Tell you what, Ronnie, why don't you and me meet at a neutral place and get more acquainted?" Bruce offered. Ronnie gulped a bit to the idea of meeting a rival member. Bruce reached into his vest, pulled out a business card and handed it to him.

"Hey you keep business cards too in your vest huh?"

"Well yeah~" Bruce chuckled.

Ronnie snickered a bit and reached into his vest to pull out a card and a pen. Bruce took the pen from Ronnie and scribbled down his cellphone number before handing it and the card to him.

"I'd like to tell you a bit about who the fuck you're going up against, and I'll ask my guys back at the club more about this motherfucker causing you and us trouble."

"Sounds like a plan, Bruce."

"You have a safe drive back to Newark, Ronnie."

"You as well, Bruce."

Bruce put his shades back on, hopped back onto his bike and took off with his fellow Outlaws. They roared back onto the road and disappeared. Ronnie felt his knees practically give out as he caught himself on his bike. He looked at the business card, which bore the skull and crossbones insignia of the Outlaws, and Bruce's number written down.

Ronnie went back to put the nozzle away and screw the cap back onto his Fatboy. Did he just get another step closer to finding his man?

---

Glancing out the cabin window, Ronnie found himself eleven thousand feet over rural Indiana in the late afternoon, enroute to Chicago for a live broadcast performance at the Viking studio. Taking a moment to admire the clouds and clear his head, Ronnie had to admit to himself that this "jet set" lifestyle was kind of neat; he had flown more in the past year and a half for work than ever before in his life.

After clearing his head, Ronnie returned back to work. He sat at Rob's desk in his little private office in the tail of the old Starliner. Armed with a gel pen, Ronnie wrote out a monologue on a yellow legal pad. His neat, rounded cursive filled the page as he thought about what to say to a video statement he planned on recording to put on the band's social media page. It was a challenge to make a statement that didn't come across as pretentious, whiny, or give any impression of guilt through denial. Worse, he had to work within the limitations imposed by his lawsuit, on recommendation by his attorney. Putting his pen down, he leaned back in the plush leather chair and read his statement.

"STATEMENT:

Hi everyone, Ron here, and I just want to take

a moment of your time to tell you about what

has been going on in my life as of lately. I'm

sure that most of you have heard my interview

on the radio that I am having some legal troubles

right now. And I want to dispel any rumors or

misinformation that may arise from this.

A few months ago, local police agencies raided

my home in search of evidence for a series of

crimes that have been committed in central

Ohio. I have not been charged with a crime

and I most certainly have not been involved

in any criminal activity. As a result of this

scrutiny, I have filed a lawsuit against the

Federal Bureau of Investigation, and the

Licking County Sheriff's Department to

clear my name of these wrongful

accusations, and to seek damages in

destruction to my property and brutality

demonstrated against me and my son during

this investigation. I am unfortunately not at

liberty to discuss much further on

recommendation of my attorney.

This legal debacle has unfortunately come at a

time where our album has been picking up

significant momentum. I know all of you are

wanting to see a Hard Times tour again, but

this legal situation has cast a cloud of

uncertainly on live performances at this time.

We all have careers and families now, and

tours like we did before are probably not going

to happen, but we have some ambitious ideas

to keep all of you happy, so please stay posted!

I appreciate all of you and your concern and well

wishes. Thank you everybody!"

Nodding to himself, Ronnie got up with his legal pad and stretched. He exited through the bulkhead into the galley and restroom area, and through the middle compartment, where it looked like a traditional airline space with six rows of four seats each, all adored in ultramarine upholstery and creamy white walls and flooring. Through another bulkhead, Ronnie entered the fancy forward cabin, which had a lounge area of some couches and plush chairs by a small analog and digital editing setup, and some card tables up front. Ronnie found his boyfriend Talon sitting on the couch with Colt and Emily, all of them being entertained by Varg Eikemo and his wife Lily. Rob sat with his husband Joey, and their best friend Maverick. Varg was telling them one of his funny stories about a tour that had gone wrong for his former band. He had everyone laughing pretty good. Mixing with his story telling and the laughter was the constant burble of the big radial engines outside the cabin.

"Here, what do you think of this, Rob?"

Rob looked up, grabbed the legal pad from Ronnie and read it quickly. "That would pass the Lisa test."

"Oh good."

Has anyone ever told you that you write really nice?" Rob remarked.

"Not in a long time... heh, usually people tell me they can't read cursive. My print looks like angry shop class teacher writing!" Ronnie joked.

"Heh, join the crowd." Rob smirked.

"Usually people seem blown away that a big tough biker dude can write so nice."

"Never judge a book by its cover, Ron~"

"Exactly!"

"I'm gonna go make that dinner thing in the galley." Talon announced as he got up. "Hey, stud!"

Ronnie smiled at Talon as he walked by him to head towards the galley. Ronnie took a seat next to the kids as he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well Ronnie, you excited for this?" Varg asked.

"Ready or not!" the dog laughed. "I am excited because it's a chance to build on this momentum, but I'm just so screwed over this legal fight."

"Don't worry about it." Rob assured him. "You have Licking County's most ruthless attorney."

"Fitting..." Ronnie sarcastically quipped with a smirk at Rob.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Ronnie." Varg said, understanding his worry. "You can't jeopardize yourself for the music, you just can't. Not with the shit you're dealing with."

"I know. It sucks."

"But think of it this way. You and the guys have very successful careers now, you have families, you have obligations. And I know all of you love music and you love what you do, but think of how good you have it to get your music out there in the digital age. It isn't like twenty years ago when you had built momentum you had to work really hard on it to keep it going. Now you have streaming services, online publishing to get and stay in touch with fans, but yeah, I get it, it doesn't make the money like good honest touring."

"I think the days of touring like that won't happen. Not with our families and careers. And I don't want to go through that shit again... that was difficult."

"Yeah... it's hard on families." Lily admitted. "When Varg used to always tour, we'd never see him."

"I missed out the first couple years of my son's life, and that I regret." Varg frowned.

"Yeah, I want to be there for my son." Ronnie nodded.

"Touch choices. I understand. I know you said the music has to take a sort of backseat... and I think in the case, you have to take what you can get."

Ronnie nodded. "Adulting is hard."

"Oh yeah. Very." Varg laughed.

"Everything's gonna be okay, Dad!" Colt smiled as he hugged him with a big smile on his face.

Ronnie smiled at his son as he hugged him. "If you say so, then it has to be true~"

"When you're good, you're good!" Colt grinned.

"Ha, don't quit your day job kiddo~"

Reaching Chicago by five-thirty in the evening, the big Starliner descended in for landing at Chicago Midway. The curvaceous Lockheed rumbled in with its long thin wings flexing to a slight crosswind pushing them around. Coming in with a slight nose down angle, the white, blue, and silver propliner flared for an uneventful touchdown on the runway centerline. It rolled out and taxied to the Centoh hangar, where the ground crew awaited their arrival.

Hitting the subway, it was a half hour ride to the Loop, where Viking Records recording studio was housed at. Ronnie sat at home in the crusty looking metal rail car, surrounded by tired and burned out Chicagoans going home. Everyone sat looking calm but Rob, who looked tense, on edge. Getting off in the Loop, Ronnie and everyone made their way to the studio, nestled amongst all the other steel and concrete buildings shimmering in the evening light.

---

Brilliant white spotlights shone down in the live room, making the polished teak floors glisten. Dark blue foam spikes that lined the wall to absorb sound cast unique shadows, as everyone stood around, with twenty minutes to show time. The Viking engineers finished up their sound check, while the WNBB-TV crew finished the last tweaks to Rob's anachronistic studio camera setup.

While the band stood around talking to Varg and his wife, Ronnie messed around with one of Rob's cameras, a seventies vintage TTV-1518, a rare French made tube camera, proudly marked "WNBB-TV/BAREV" on it. There were four of the boxy rectangular cameras sitting on their fancy wheeled pedestals, with a bunch of triax cable running out of the room to the mobile OB truck outside in the back alley. Through the viewfinder Ronnie watched Rob run a cable and plug it into one of the portable cameras, a vintage Sony BVP-300A, handled by his friend, Andy Bueller who ran his Chicago station.

"Here, let me just check one more thing on this one." Rob said, walking over to take over the controls. Ronnie watched Rob make a little adjustment on a dial, which apparently engaged the filter wheel, as Ronnie watched on a small portable LCD monitor a bright spotlight panning in the shot with a neat looking starburst effect from a four-blade star filter. Rob quickly panned away, leaving a heavy comet-tailing effect with its bright red flaring.

"Okay, all good." Rob said into the headset before hanging it back on the viewfinder.

"So where did you get these cameras from? You said they're French, right?" Ronnie asked.

"They're French made yeah, and these four are ex-CBS cameras, which came from a former CBS engineer in New York. CBS purchased a huge fleet of Thomsons for their OB trucks, since these could run on triax and the Norelcos couldn't. They were pretty much the only network in the States to buy them. I think they work about as well as the PC-72's, but the optical relay system to bounce light around to the tubes is a pain in the ass in my opinion."

"I see."

"Art is pain they say~" Rob quipped with a twisted little smile before walking back to check on something else.

Ronnie walked over to be with his band mates as they started to really get ready. All of them were dressed for the occasion; they all wore shiny black leather pants and boots. Ronnie, Colt, and Killian had colorful tanktops in various pastel colors, while Todd and Adam wore t-shirts that were motorcycle themed. They got into position while the DJ who was hosting this special grabbed his microphone and stood before the cameras.

"Feed going live in one minute." Andy called. "Standby everybody."

"This is it!" Adam called.

"Let's do it!" Ronnie grinned big. He felt his confidence swell up in him.

"Thirty seconds!"

Ronnie glanced back and smiled at everyone. All his bandmates were just as excited as him.

"Here we go." Rob called with Andy. Both Rob and Andy bounced their commands off each other.

"Feed going?"

"We're live."

"Roll VTR."

"VTR is go~"

"Ten seconds!" Andy called. He gave the countdown, as camera two's tally light turned red. "Three...two...one."

The DJ from Chicago's biggest rock station gave the introduction, a short monologue about the special program. Introducing the band, the DJ gave the floor to them as all cameras swung around to the band members as they hit the ground running with "She's a Beauty". Taking the backseat to just vocals, Ronnie looked excited as Adam started off with his synth, followed by Todd and Killian with their guitars and Colt thumbing at his bass. Don picked up the beat with his drums.

"Step right up! And don't be shy

Because you will not believe your eyes!

She's right here, behind the glass!

You're gonna like her 'cause she's got class!"

"You can look inside another world

You get to talk to a pretty girl!

She's everything you dream about!"

"But don't fall in love" Ronnie sang with Adam, Colt, Todd, and Don. They sang a bit higher than their usual singing voice.

"She's a beauty!" Killian responded.

"She's one in a million girls..."

"She's a beauty" Killian sang. His voice was powerfully smooth.

Ronnie glanced over and saw Talon and the kids looking excited for him. Rob and Varg both looked entertained as they stood behind the cameras that took turns capturing footage of them. Trying to move with the beat, Ronnie winced a bit as his ribs still hurt him. It was a reminder in the heat of the moment of his person situation.

Finishing up "She's a Beauty", Ronnie took center stage on the floor as Adam switched to the grand piano that was in the corner. He played the piano introduction of "Black and White", with Varg providing the cowbell off camera.

"The ink is black, the page is white

Together we learn to read and write

A child is black, a child is white

The whole world looks upon the sight

A beautiful sight!

And now a child can understand

That this is the law of all the land

All the land!

The world is black, the world is white

It turns by day and then by night

A child is black, a child is white

Together they grow to see the light

To see the light

And now, at last, we plainly see

We'll have a dance of liberty

Libertyyyyyyyyy!"

"The world is black, the world is white

It turns by day and then by night

A child is black, a child is white

Together they grow to see the light

To see the light!"

Everyone sang the chorus.

"The world is black, the world is white

It turns by day and then by night

A child is black, a child is white

The whole world looks upon the sight

A beautiful sight

The world is black, the world is white

It turns by day and then by night

A child is black, a child is white

Together they grow to see the light

To see the light!"

Ronnie grinned at everyone and at the camera as he finished out the song.

"C'mon

Get it

Get it

Ohh-ohhhh yeah

Yeah

Keep it up now, around the world

Little boys and little girls

Yeah

Yeah-eah, oh-ohhh!!!"

After the song ended, the DJ returned, and the special program ended with an interview with the band. They talked about the singles, why they made them and why they had Killian and Ronnie sing lead. The DJ amusingly asked Ronnie about his lack of his usual gyrations and motions, and Ronnie joked that "crashing your bike sucks".

"Well I hope to see you guys play again in the future, because Hard Times is never a dull moment."

"Hey thank you!"

"And that concludes our special program for one-oh-nine point seven Chicago rock! Good night!"

"Close out feed, stop VTR." Andy called.

---

As nighttime fell on Chicago, everyone had a dinner party at "Stonecliff", Rob's summer home in northern Chicago. Looking like a scaled up version of the famous Fallingwater in Pennsylvania, Stonecliff was the radical stone and concrete, cantilever home, situated by a big waterfall in a wooded area that Rob had turned into a park. The warm amber lights glowed, contrasting to the gray and brown stone and concrete. Rob's armed security patrolled the perimeter. In the dining area, Ronnie and everyone celebrated a successful program over some catered food that was brought in.

"I loved the comment, 'I noticed you weren't very active this time, you stood very still'" Killian remarked to Ronnie with a laugh.

"Yeah, nevermind that whole being thrown off the motorcycle..." Ronnie chuckled. "Weird how that'd put you in some pain and not move around!"

"Alcohol, Ronnie!" Don grinned. "Alcohol!"

"Then I'd be Ace Frehley." The Doberman laughed. "Or! I'd have even more scrutiny from the feds!"

"Banana peel~" Talon teased.

"Yeah don't remind me Sir Sharts-a-lot!"

"I fart in your general direction!" Talon pointed with a grin.

"Oh god." Ronnie laughed.

"That felt good~" Todd nodded.

"I liked how we did." Adam chimed in. "I like a change of pace in our song material. It's like a great refresher."

"Yeah, I agree." Killian nodded.

"Feels like ole' times guys." Ronnie smiled.

"Yeah!" Adam exclaimed.

After dinner, the band had a huddle session with Lily and Varg, about the collaboration idea with Lily. They worked through some early ideas, jotted down notes, and talked about what they wanted to accomplish. After that, the band talked about music video ideas with Rob and Andy, and decided to make music videos for "Black and White" and "She's a Beauty", since they were leading the charts at the moment. The conversations made Ronnie feel confident that they had a solid plan for the next steps for their music.

After hanging out and enjoying each other's company, it was time to say goodbye and head back home. Departing from Chicago, "Altair" lifted off the runway and climbed away into the star filled night sky. Brilliant red flames shot from the four radial engines as the Starliner climbed away, heading east to Newark.

The cabin was quiet and dimly lit as Talon and his daughter slept on the couch. The primary flight crew rested, while Rob and his husband piloted the plane with their mechanic Vlado serving as flight engineer. Everything was quiet, with only the monotonous drone of muffled propellers filling the narrow interior.

Ronnie and his son sat by one of the windows, watching the big radials work. The moon shone in the nighttime sky, casting a pale blue tint on the polished metal wings and cowl. The big propellers faintly shimmered, and the engines belched a steady blue flame from the engines' power recovery turbines. The just visible turbos glowed a faint cherry red. Ronnie always found that an interesting sight to see.

"Why are the flames blue, Dad?" Colt asked.

"Well that means the engines are running lean."

"What's that mean?"

"Well an engine needs air and gas to make the combustion that drives the pistons. Well you have to have it just right. If you have more air than gas, then you run lean, and if you have more gas than air, then it's rich. These engines are running a bit lean, so the flames are blue. They were earlier much red when we took off because the engines were running with more fuel, I assume, to prevent predet at max power."

"Ah." Was Colt's reply.

"It's pretty neat." Ronnie smiled. "It's a pretty nighttime sky. I like how the moonlight colors the clouds."

"Yeah!" Colt smiled. "It makes me think about the flight we took to our new home."

"Yeah." Ronnie nodded. "In the middle of the night, when we rode over the thunderstorm."

"It was cool to see the lightning light the sky up from below!" Colt exclaimed.

"That's a day I'll never forget." Ronnie remarked, looking a bit bitter. "We've been through a lot, lil' man."

"Yeah." Colt nodded. The young Dober looked a bit sad. "Are the police gonna take me away if we lose the lawsuit?"

"Wha- noooooo." Ronnie assured. "No, no, no." he said with a light laugh.

"I'm worried." Colt admitted with a frown. "Everyone wants to get you, Dad."

"Everything's gonna be okay, Colty." Ronnie assured him as he gave his son a hug.

"Is the FBI gonna be mad that you're suing them?"

"Probably."

"So what if they try and take me away from you?"

"Son, I don't think that's gonna happen. You're gonna be okay." Ronnie smiled. "Everything will be okay."

Colt hugged his Dad back. "Okay~ I hope so." He had a smile on his face as he gave his Dad a tight hug.

"It's getting late son, why don't you get some shuteye in the tail."

"Okay~"

Seeing that Colt went back to the office where there was a bed, Ronnie stepped into the cockpit. The cockpit was narrow and bathed in a dim red light as Rob and Joey sat at the helm, watching their glowing instrumentation. Vlado, the big Croatian wolf, sat at the flight engineer panel, watching the hundreds of dials, switches, and indicators glow.

"How's everything going on back there?" Rob asked, glancing back at Ronnie in the left hand seat.

"Everyone's asleep." Ronnie nodded. "Engine noise can do that, surprisingly."

"It's the radial song~" Rob remarked.

"I just sent Colty off to bed since it's getting late." Ronnie said. He paused to brace himself against the instrument rack as turbulence momentarily shook the cockpit. "He said something that kinda made me sad."

"What's that?" Joey asked.

"Oh, he asked if the feds are gonna take him away if we lose the lawsuit. He's so scared to think that they're coming to take him, or me away, and he'll have nobody. And it kills me on the inside that he thinks that."

"That's sad." Joey frowned, understanding Ronnie's predicament.

"I wish I knew how to get out of this."

"You will." Rob assured. "One way or another."

"Either the feds make shit up to get me in jail, or my imposter fucks up. Whatever happens first..." Ronnie shook his head in frustration. "I'd love to just beat the fuck outta that muddafucker."

"I get the frustration." Rob nodded. "Keep doing what you're doing, and don't let them wear you down, Ron. Don't give them what they want."

"Yeah."

Joey turned around in his chair. "People who like to dabble in crime fuck up sooner or later. They always let their guard down when they get cocky after getting away with so much shit. He'll fuck up sooner or later."

"Hopefully sooner! So I can get this fucking nightmare over with~"

"In time." Rob nodded.

"Well, I'm gonna lay down and snooze a bit."

"Rest up!" Joey smiled.

"Thanks~" Ronnie smiled back.

Walking through the plane, Ronnie found Colt asleep in bed, with the blanket kicked off him. Ronnie smiled, knelt down, and covered him up with the dark blue blanket. Giving the top of his head a kiss, Ronnie went back to the cabin and sat down next to a snoozing Talon, who had his daughter sleeping against his side. Ronnie took Talon's right paw and held it and gently stroked it as he made himself comfortable on the couch. Heavy eyes took command, and Ronnie dozed off pretty quickly, the trance like radial song putting him to sleep.

---

Having negotiated a place to meet Bruce, Ronnie drove in his Civic, armed with his lunch. Taking the off ramp to Alexandria via Route 37, he rolled up to the only intersection in the tiny little village and made a right on North Liberty Street to head towards the Lobdell Reserve, a nature park. He slowed up, put his turn signal on and turned into the gravel lot. Pulling into the shade towards the back, Ronnie backed in and parked. He hopped out with his brown paper bag lunch and waited for Bruce. The park was quiet on a hot July noon.

Meeting a member of a rival MC was always a tense experience. There were strong egos and pride that went into wearing one's colors, and every encounter with rival clubs was a gamble. Ronnie had once gone to a funeral of a Hells Angel who was killed in an attempted negotiation gone horribly wrong. A meeting between the Angels and members of the Finks, to resolve a dispute over weed sales and turf, ended with three people dead and several severely injured, and further scrutiny from the feds. His father Dave fought off a bunch of Outlaws in a huge Cleveland brawl twenty years prior, which left hundreds of people severely injured when a biker rally went horribly wrong. By chance, his friend Marty Millis, an Akron Hells Angel at the time, was also present in the brawl and was injured in it. Ronnie knew very well that meeting Bruce, an Outlaw, the arch rival to the Angels, was potentially dangerous. But if he could get him another step closer to finding his imposter? Then maybe the risk was worth it.

Pulling in and kicking up dust was a blue Chrysler van. Tires crunched on the white gravel as the Town and Country pulled up and parked beside Ronnie's Civic in the shade. The door swung open, and out stepped Bruce, casually dressed in flip flops, shorts, and a snug tanktop that was black with white stitching. He had big meaty arms that were sleeved up just like Ronnie's, with an intricate black and gray design. He had a chest tattoo that poked through his tanktop, with more artwork in black and gray showing through his pelt. A dark blue bandana was wrapped around his big head. Bruce walked up and held a sandwich bag and a drink, a hoagie sticking out from the top. Shiny silver biker rings adorned his fingers.

"Have you been here long?" Bruce asked.

"Nah, I just got here." Ronnie responded.

"Want to sit in the shade?"

"Sure~"

There was a picnic bench under a large oak tree. The shade was cool, with a gentle breeze that rustled the dark green leaves. Bruce and Ronnie sat down and pulled out their lunches to discuss the situation.

Reaching into his pocket, Bruce pulled out a folded up piece of paper. He handed it to Ronnie, who unfolded it, finding two photographs. They were a bit blurry, but they depicted his imposter, photographed by one of the Outlaws who chased him. It was taken on I-270, showing a rather terrified looking Doberman on the Scout Bobber. The other photo was a close up of the license plate. Despite being blurry, Ronnie could read its numbers.

"That license plate we looked up, and it's not the dude." Bruce shook his head. "That motherfucker stole that plate off someone named Norman Schuster, who lives in Hilltop."

"Great." Ronnie grumbled.

"There's been some motorcycle license plates stolen around Columbus, and I believe in Zanesville too?" Bruce remarked. "We have some buds from Z-town who said there were at least three plate thefts in the area."

"Do you think he's from Zanesville?"

"No." Bruce shook his head. "I believe he's from Licking Valley. We chased him to about that point and I saw him turn onto Licking Valley Road, but I lost him from there. I think he's from that area, or very east Newark."

"Hmm." Ronnie pondered. "I remember meeting him back in May... he said to me that his name was Ritchie..."

"He goes my Ritchie... or Ron... or Ronnie. I think his name is either or, as the people we know who've met him said he goes by one or the other."

"What's his last name? Do you know?"

"It starts with an S... Samp? Saul? Nobody really knows for sure." The malamute explained. "If I can take a guess, it might be Ronald Richard, since someone heard him saying that on his phone."

"And now I can see why they latched onto me..." Ronnie shook his head with a disgusted, cynical laugh.

"It's the low hanging fruit!" Bruce laughed. "Why put effort into searching for something when you can just pick on the bikers, right?"

"Exactly!"

"It's just same shit, different day for me." Bruce laughed cynically as he bit into his sub. "But that dude, Ron Ritchie, whatever the fuck his name is, he's a pretty bold motherfucker. But that photo is priceless. Mister tough ass wannabe, until he meets some real bikers!"

"He's really doing a dangerous deed..." Ronnie chuckled. "Guys who fuck around in another club's turf get creamed..."

"And he would have got a fucking beat down too had we gotten our paws on him." Bruce glared. "He beat the shit out of my wife's friend."

"Why? Do you know why?"

"Mellissa said that she met him, and he could supply her pill fix... yes... Mellissa has a problem... And Ritchie, that's what she said he went by, wanted to do more for payment, and Mellissa didn't, and he tried to force himself on her, and Mellissa hit him. Well that dude went apeshit and just wailed on her. Sent her to the hospital... She said he could be really charming, really seductive, but man, just snap on ya."

"Hence the assaults."

"Yeah, his M.O makes no sense." Bruce shrugged.

"I witnessed him shooting someone in Newark. They had some argument over drug money, and the cost of his stuff, and there was a skirmish and he shot the dude and fled."

Bruce shook his head.

"And guess who got questioned."

"You!"

"Yes!" Ronnie laughed with Bruce.

"And you want to find him so the feds would stop thinking you're up to no good."

"Yeah, but go fucking figure."

"We almost had him... we almost had him Ronnie... But some old woman pulled out in front of us and we lost him... Man did I want to beat his ass."

"I do too." Ronnie nodded. "He's terrifying my kid with all the police scrutiny."

"Ugh at that shit."

"I got FBI agents camped out near my house, they're listening in on my calls, they've been stalking me. You know, their helicopter spying on me crashed in front of me! They ran out of fucking gas following me to Akron! Two agents fell out of a tree and broke their limbs, and it's just out of control. I'm suing the FBI to get my name cleared and this shit over with."

"Well good luck on that."

"I'm also suing the Licking County Sheriff's Office."

"Mannnnn, fuck the Licking County Sheriff's Department!" Bruce hissed. He looked very upset. "Fuck that whole county! Fuck every single one of them for what they did to me and my family?"

"Oh, what happened?"

"Buddy, you're not originally from Newark are you?"

"No, I'm from Chicago."

"Well, heh, you should know all about corruption then." Bruce chuckled. "Newark and Licking County are one of the most corrupt places in Ohio. It's a good ole' boys network where everyone's bought and paid for, including the Sheriff. That Sheriff's Department is nothing more than a gang, a bunch of Gestapo motherfuckers who love to waltz into any situation, get everyone riled up just to justify violence."

"So I've heard from others."

"They tried to get me almost a decade ago, and they almost did." Bruce pointed out.

"What happened to you?"

Bruce looked away for a moment and rubbed his paws together as he collected his thoughts. "Nine years ago, around Christmas, there was a mild day so I took the bike out for a spin with some buds. I went to the gas station, was refueling when here comes Sheriff Ryder, the Sheriff at the time. He comes waltzing out with this big smirk on his face and comes up to me, asking about my patches on my vest... so I asked him if he had a warrant... he said no... so I told him to frankly go fuck off. And nothing happened until January 2015 when the Sheriff's Department decided to stage a no-knock raid on my house..."

"Uh oh."

"It was Saturday morning... I was helping the Misses make breakfast, when suddenly our front door was blasted open, and several flash-bang grenades were thrown in. Next thing I know, me and my wife are getting roughed up and beat by several deputies, and one of the flash-bangs went off right in front of my youngest kid and severely burned her... and in this whole situation... they did not once offer my daughter any medical care. She laid on the floor screaming in agonizing pain from third degree burns to her face and abdomen, and they not once offered any kind of support. You know they even shoved my oldest to the ground? Can you believe this shit? They tried charging me and my wife with drug possession. You know what saved me?"

"What's that?"

"I had just installed one of those camera doorbell things and it captured video of one of the deputies as they piled up to the door... holding a baggie of meth. That same baggie they claimed I had in possession as they tried to charge me and my wife with criminal possession of a controlled substance and felonious assault of a police officer when my foot made contact with one deputy as they were tasering me..."

"I got struck across the face by a Swat officer armed with a shotgun..." Ronnie shook his head.

"When the footage came out, all charges were dropped." Bruce pointed. "So I sued the fuck outta Licking County, and the Sheriff's Department. They tied it up in court for four years... but I ended up winning fourteen million dollars. I can still hear the verdict. The jury awarded us fifty thousand dollars in property damages, they awarded us a hundred thousand dollars in wrongful charges, eighty thousand for public humiliation and emotional distress, and punitive damages totaling fourteen million dollars."

"Ka-ching~"

"And I got everyone out of fucking Newark, and we now live in Westerville." Bruce concluded.

"How's your daughter?"

"She's okay now. She's now twelve. But her face is mangled up from all the surgeries and skin grafts. She was pretty close to death when they airlifted her to Children's, and on the way, her heart had stopped on the helicopter flight. They had to do at least five surgeries and several skin grafts to repair the damage, and her face is all scarred up. You know it kills me as a father to pick your daughter up from school and she breaks down in tears from all the bullying she gets from the other girls. And when I see those awful tears and her face all twisted in despair... I blame myself... even though my counselor said it wasn't my fault... I blame myself because I told that sick fucking sonofabitch that he could go fuck himself."

Bruce looked away and sighed a bit. "Sorry for the monologue."

"No, no, no, it's fine~" Ronnie smiled. "I'm thankful my situation didn't become like that, but dude, that's fucked up."

"I won't step foot in Newark unless I have to see my parents." Bruce explained. "That was the worst thing to happen to me since serving in Iraq, or getting fucked up on drugs in my twenties."

"I am curious to hear more about you~"

"Heh, well I'm Bruce Faybien, I'm forty-three, and I'm from Newark. I got bitten by the patriotism bug after nine-eleven and joined the Marines and found myself shipped off to fight... in Iraq... saw a lot of fucked up shit. Then had a break and decided to go back, and second tour got ended early by an IED... blew our APC up and killed a couple of my friends. I got messed up from it. Airlifted outta Iraq to Germany, had surgery, and then flown home to the States. Honorable discharge with a purple heart and bronze star."

Ronnie nodded.

"After I recovered, I tried to go to college since hey, it was free for almost getting blown up, and that went over like a lead balloon because I didn't realize how bad and fucked up I was with ptsd... and the next thing I know I'm caught up in a floopy-doopy drug induced haze smoking crack and heroin and waiting for my next fix... got thrown out of school and my high school sweetheart dumped my ass. If it wasn't for my older brother Brandon and his now husband Deke, and my sister... I'd probably be dead... or like my younger brother Lando... a crackhead. But they got me cleaned up, and I found my place as a member of the Outlaws... I'm their road captain now."

"Oh that's neat! My Dad was a road captain too, at the Harvey chapter."

"It's pretty fun."

"I also like the furious floof helmet."

"Ha, oh god, that's my daughters idea." Chuckled Bruce. "She made it for me, so of course I wear it, just for her. The guys like to give me shit. I just tell them that their girlfriends didn't complain about the furious floof spreading their assholes wide with my big ole' dick!"

"Oh boy." Ronnie laughed.

"What about you?" Bruce asked.

"Well I'm Ronnie Samson, and I'm an Akron Hells Angel. I'm kind of a nomad since I live so far away, but it is what it is ya know? I work for a recording studio as a sound engineer. Me and some fellow Angels have a band and we make music. You heard of Hard Times the band?"

"Oh wait a second! You're Ronnie Samson! The singer I've heard about!"

"Yeah! That's us."

"I've listened to some of your music before. It was pretty cool. The guy used to joke at the clubhouse that they'd all invite you to sing at a party if ya'll weren't a bunch of Hells Angels."

"Oh that'd be interesting for sure..." Ronnie laughed. "I remember a very tense autograph signing... we were asked to sign some albums and posters for a bunch of Mongols... yeah... a friendly club to us Angels... and it was very tense..."

Bruce shook his head. "I've met some Mongols, and some are cool, but eh."

"We like to capture in some songs that biker music feel, that bluesy hard rock mixed with some eighties metal and shit, and we're all Hells Angels, but we want our music to be appreciated by everyone."

"I bet the club loves you guys for raking in the dough~"

"Well yeah." Ronnie grinned. "We make money for the club through legitimate means."

"Oh I get that." Bruce chuckled. "You know people all think we're a bunch of violent criminals when that's not true at all."

"No, and I honestly wish it wasn't like that." Ronnie shook his head. "My Dad was a Hells Angel, and so was my Grandpa... he was the vice-president and practically the founder of the New York chapter when they patched over from the Aliens MC in sixty-nine... They never did anything criminal or had any interest in that..."

"Now that's a lot of mad respect, I gotta give you that." Bruce admitted. "I've seen like a father and son... or an uncle and nephew... but never grandfather, father, and then son. Wow."

"Well thank you~"

"My parents didn't understand why I wanted to be a biker... but this is home to me. And my wife and kids understand."

"A lot of people don't understand." Ronnie shook his head. "I wanted to make my grandpa and dad proud, and I hope I did. But just constantly being accused of doing crime and shit... It just doesn't interest me... and I wish maybe our history wasn't so focused on drug dealing and shit like that. It only attracts those folks who want to do it!"

"Same with us... I mean... there's a lot of broken guys looking for a home and they find it here. But when they fuck up, it's on them! But we all have to deal with the fallout."

"I know guys who've sold drugs, and guns, and dealt with hookers and shit, but I never wanted to know or be involved. I have too much to lose with my son."

"Yeah I get that completely. I have a family and a nice career being a welder... why do I want to fuck that up? One sec, I gotta piss."

Ronnie watched Bruce get up and casually walk over to the tree where he nonchalantly relieved himself against it. "I didn't need to sell drugs and do crime to make money for the club when I can sing."

"There you have it" Bruce laughed. "People might make fun of us, but fuck it."

Bruce walked back and sat back down. "I had to piss like a race horse, sorry about that~"

"Ha, it's fine." Ronnie chuckled.

"You know, I like you Ronnie." Bruce pointed out.

"Oh yeah?"

"You're down to earth, and you come across as a nice guy. There's a lot of patch holders who make it all about them, and I think clubs are better off maybe not fighting each other as much? It gives all of us bikers a bad name, and more ammo for cops..."

"Well cops act like a gang too..."

"And they're making motorcycle clubs..." Bruce rolled his green eyes. "Nothing says hypocrite more than calling us biker gangs, and then copying our looks, our patches, everything."

"And brawling with us in drunken rages too." Ronnie chuckled.

"That too..." Bruce shook his head. "It's fucking retarded is what it is."

"Yeah..."

"But yeah, what was I saying... oh... I think you're a cool guy. And I definitely want to know you more if you'd be fine with that."

"Sure." Ronnie nodded.

"I mean, it sucks that we can't ride or do fun shit like that because Sonny and Taco decided to have a pissing match over who had the cooler club... fucking grade school shit, but that's what you get with your colors." Bruce chuckled. His cellphone rang and the malamute fished it out to find his wife was calling him.

"Yeah, dear? Yeah, I'm talking to a bud about Mellissa... Fine, fine, fine, I'll go to the store and get it. Just text me what you need and I'll get it at Walmart! Okay, sweetie, thanks, bye."

"Happy wife, happy life?"

"Ha, yes." Bruce grinned. "Happy wife and happy dick too~"

"Oh god~" Ronnie laughed. "Well listen, thanks so much for the information."

"No problem. I'm sorry it's not more... but hopefully it's a step in the right direction."

"Anything's better than nothing." Ronnie said as he shook Bruce's paw. They both had a happy smile on their faces.

"I hope to hear from you." Bruce said as he turned to leave. "And if you need someone to testify for you in court... I'll gladly help you. You take care, Ronnie."

"Thanks Bruce, I'll keep that in mind~ You have a safe trip home!"

Ronnie threw his trash away as he watched Bruce depart in his van. Ronnie got back into his car, fired it up and cranked the A/C up to max. He sat there for a moment, processing everything, and realizing that he made a friend from an unlikely place and a rival club.

---

"This is giving me a headache..." Agent Casper remarked to his colleagues in the conference room.

"A guy who is supposedly engaged in criminal enterprise, performs a live special performance for a popular Chicago music station online with his band and gets over three quarter of a million views life, and two million views and raving reviews!" chuckled the lady German Shepherd, Agent Brannigan.

"Now why would a guy, who clearly is a talented singer... want to dabble in crime?" Casper asked curiously.

"I'm not sure. It takes all kinds..." Brannigan shrugged.

"I watched that program and was just blown away. Ron Samson can sing."

"It doesn't make sense... and I think Dove is onto something..."

"Well he's on his way to Columbus..." Brannigan chuckled as she heard the door open, revealing a secretary.

"Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but a fax came in for Dove, and I think you need to see this..."

"Oh?" Casper quipped as he leaned forward to accept the papers. He flipped them around to stare at a scanned photo of a red Doberman riding a Scout Bobber, looking quite terrified in the blurred picture. The other photo showed the license plate, and a third page, with Ronnie's neat rounded cursive, explained the photos. Casper read it out loud.

"Agent Dove, I was provided this photo by a member of the Outlaws MC, who engaged with this man, apparently named... Ronald or Ritchie... or possibly Ronald Richard, with a last name starting with S... this is the man who assaulted Mellissa Huxley, a friend of a member of the Outlaws. The license plate is stolen according to them. Sincerely... Ron..."

Casper and Brannigan looked at each other.

"Oh boy..." Brannigan said as she got up and quickly grabbed the photo. "I'm scanning this over to Dove."

"Do it immediately!" Casper exclaimed. "Ah shit..."

Brannigan ran it through the copier and sent it to Dove's e-mail as Casper dialed for Dove's phone number. The conference room door burst open again to Chief Saunders appearing.

"What is this I'm hearing about evidence coming in through a fax?"

"Look what came in." Brannigan said, holding up the photos that Saunders quickly grabbed from her. He even read the note, his face looking ashen, confused.

"Saunders I think we have a problem here." Casper admitted. Saunders turned around and blankly stared at the wolf and German Shepherd.

"This can't be... this can't be." Saunders muttered.

"This is giving me a headache..." Casper grumbled as he waited for Dove to pick up.

Eighty miles to the north-east, approaching greater Columbus, Dove raced north on I-71 in his black Charger. Looking serious behind the wheel, Dove drove, listening to the occasional radio chatter crackling through on his CB radio. His cellphone, mounted on the dash, rang. He quickly answered it.

"Dove here."

"Dove, it's Cap, hey you won't believe what just came in..."

"What's that?"

"We just got a fax from Ron Samson. The number's not his, it's some public number that traces to the city building or something in Newark... He sent us a photo that he says came from the Outlaws MC... it's of a red Doberman who looks like him, on an Indian Scout Bobber being chased. The photo looks like it was taken by one of the bikers in the chase that was reported by Columbus PD."

"Is this in regards to the Mellissa Huxley case?"

"Yes."

"Oh boy."

"I also got a great license plate photo on that Scout Bobber. According to Ron Samson, the plates were stolen. We just ran it through the database and the license plate belongs to a Honda owned by a Norman Schuster, who lives in Columbus Ohio, and reported his plates stolen about a month ago and we have access to the police report on it. Ron says in a statement he wrote in his handwriting that he believes that the suspect is named Ronald Richard, or possibly Ronald or Richard... with a last name starting with an S..."

"Then Ron Samson is hunting for his imposter to clear his name..." Dove figured.

"It certainly seems that way."

"I'm enroute to the Indian dealership... I'm about an hour out."

"We sent you the photo and statement to your e-mail."

"I will check it out when I can stop. Thanks, Cap."

"You're welcome, Dove. Bye."

"Bye."

Dove ended the call and pursed his lips as he drove, putting a little more speed on to try and get to the dealership as fast as he could.

---

Having paid his property tax and using the public fax machine to send his photos out, Ronnie made his way out through the sliding glass doors of the Newark city building. He hopped onto his back and took off, looping around two roundabouts to make his way to the Hudson Avenue onramp to the highway. His Fatboy roaring in the turn, Ronnie punched the throttle and took off for the Hanover area. Retracing the path Bruce had told him, Ronnie went east and slowed up to turn onto Marne, which would take him to Licking Valley Road, like he was going to Talon's place.

He turned onto Licking Valley Road and followed it into the Hanover area. His eyes scrutinized everything for clues. Heading towards the only major intersection in Hanover itself, Ronnie noticed tire marks consistent to a motorcycle making a tight turn at high speed. He made the turn onto the road and followed it out of Hanover. The country road exited into the rural countryside, the narrow road lined in open farmland of fields full of soy and corn. Ronnie rode for a few miles, but felt any hope of another clue disappearing. Eventually he stopped and turned around to head back to Hanover.

Pulling in at the only gas station in town, Ronnie stopped at the pump to refuel. As he stood there, watching the nozzle, an elderly woman approached him, an aging old lady Dober, slightly hunched over.

"Ronnie?"

He turned around, startling the old woman.

"Oh! My goodness, I'm so sorry... I thought you were my grandson."

"Ronnie smiled. "Oh it's okay."

"You look just like him!" she smiled before going past him to head into the store.

Ronnie thought about that as he stowed the nozzle away. He hopped back onto his bike and took off, back towards Newark, thinking about the brief little encounter. Was he getting close to finding his man? Or was he never gonna shake his shadow?

---

Sharing the Iron Pony Motorsports building was the Indian Motorcycles of Columbus. Dove pulled up past the beige stucco building and found a parking spot. The gray wolf hopped out and adjusted his sunglasses as he held the folded up photo he was sent. Looking calm, Dove walked inside and introduced himself. He walked up to the counter, badge in his grip.

"Hello! Welcome to Indian Motorcycles I'm-" the counter guy started to say when he saw the FBI badge in Dove's grip.

"Hi I'm Special Agent Gary Dove, of the Cincinnati Branch of the FBI. How are you today?"

"What seems to the problem?" the nervous black wolf asked behind the counter.

"I have a unique problem to an active investigation, and I am hoping that maybe you can help me?"

"Sure, what is it?"

Dove unfolded the photograph and sat it on the counter for the wolf to see. He leaned forward to gaze down at it.

"I have a suspect in an investigation that I believe has bought an Indian motorcycle here. A dark brown Scout Bobber with an aftermarket chrome exhaust kit has been seen in multiple criminal incidents around central Ohio, and that is the gentleman. Would you happen to know who that is?"

The black wolf fumbled his brow. "That person looks familiar... hold on a second, let me get my manager, please."

"Absolutely~"

A minute later, a big Saint Bernard stepped out, wearing black slacks and a red polo shirt that clung tightly to his burly frame. "Hello, I'm the store manager, Clyde Maxwell."

"Special Agent Gary Dove, Cincinnati branch of the FBI." Dove greeted as he shook his paw. He explained the situation and showed the manager the photo, which seemed to instantly trigger a reaction from the manager.

"I know that guy. He came in and bought that bike in the early summer, last year. Here let me see."

The manager walked up to the computer and did some typing. The printer spooled up and Dove watched some paper get spat out of it. The Saint Bernard walked over, fetched it and sat it on the counter for Dove to grab.

"I remember that guy, because that was a really expensive bike we had. It was the prized floor display, a very high end Scout Bobber, the stuff of envy for bikers ya know? His name is Ronald Richard Sampson."

Dove glanced up, his face looking surprised, but kind of ashen.

"He came in, said he wanted to buy that bike, and he paid with cash."

Dove raised a brow. "He paid in cash."

"Fifteen grand, right on the spot."

"And this is his address?"

"That is the address he gave me. Fourteen-forty-seven Clearview Drive, Hanover Ohio! Everything is on that paperwork for you."

Dove folded the paper up neatly. "Thank you gentlemen, I really appreciate it."

Dove took the paperwork back to his Charger. As the air conditioner cooled down the interior, Dove called back to Cincinnati.

"Saunders here."

"Saunders, it's Dove, you won't believe it, but I found the guy in that picture... his name is Ronald Richard Sampson. He bought that Scout Bobber in the picture, with cash."

"That doesn't smell suspicious..."

"There's been a really serious misunderstanding in naming... Ronald Samson is not our guy! We're looking for Ronald Sampson!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Dove... How the fuck could this happen!?"

"This is what happens when you just go on a preconceived idea, Saunders!"

"What are the fucking odds it's not a Hells Angel?"

"Not this time!"

"Oh god... call off the investigation!" Saunders yelled.

"Focus everything on Ronald Richard Sampson!"

Dove quickly called Casper to update him, and then his counterpart in Cleveland, Agent Clark. He asked Clark to meet him in Columbus to meet with Columbus Police for a critical update on the investigation.

"I got one more place to visit..."

---

The black Charger pulled up to 1447 Clearview Drive, a little white and green house, shaded by a big maple tree in the front. Dove stepped out, armed with a notepad and a pen in his grip, as he walked up to the front door. Dove's face was stoic, his eyes hidden behind dark shades, as he ran the doorbell and waited. He faintly heard little footsteps, and the door swung open to reveal a slightly hunched, elderly red Doberman, with neatly permed, silvery white hair.

"Hello?" she asked all curiously. "How may I help you?"

Dove held up his badge. "Hello, Mrs. Sampson? My name is Special Agent Gary Dove, of the Cincinnati branch of the FBI. Does a Ronald Richard Sampson live here?"

"Not anymore, no. Why? What happened to my grandson? My Ronnie!"

Looking panicked, she opened the door and tried to step out, only for Dove to stop her.

"No! No! No! It's okay." Dove assured. "I'm conducting an investigation and I need your help..."

"Oh my god... please... please come in..."

Making Dove comfortable at her little dinner table, Dove watched her carefully carry a mug of coffee over for him, in a mug that was adorned with pastel colored flowers. Her trembling paws gently sat it down for him.

"Is Ronnie okay? Oh my god what happened?"

"Just hold up, let's not panic." Dove smiled. "May I have your name please?"

"I'm Gloria Newman. I'm Ronnie's Grandma."

"I assume... mother's side?"

"Yes."

Dove jotted that down on his notepad. "Thank you... I need your help in finding where Ronnie is... because he is a suspect in a series of crimes through central Ohio."

Gloria covered her trembling mouth with her shaking paw. She had to sit down. "My poor Ronnie is acting out..."

Dove perked up. "Acting out?"

Gloria looked so embarrassed and ashamed. "Ronnie was such a kind and sweet little boy... who got ruined by his parents divorcing when he was eleven. It was a very awful divorce, very hateful, and they pitted poor Ronnie against each other."

Dove nodded as he wrote quickly.

"Ronnie came to live with me about fifteen years ago, he was fourteen back then."

"How old is Ronnie?"

"He's twenty-nine now."

"Okay."

"He's lived here on and off after he tried moving out when he was twenty... but he'd always come back here... but I kicked him out early this year..."

"You kicked him out? Why?"

Gloria looked uncomfortable. "I caught Ronnie with a bunch of drugs."

"Do you know what kind of drugs?"

"I don't know. Just bags of pills, I know some marijuana. His Dad was such a pothead..."

Dove scribbled this down quickly.

"We had a terrible fight about it, and I told him he was going to ruin his life doing this... but Ronnie told me that's how he was gonna make it and he didn't care what I had to say! It broke my heart because Ronnie was such a kind gentle little soul that got ruined in that divorce."

"I read his criminal background and he was sent to live with you by child services after an incident in school where he punched a teacher in a fight."

"That's correct." Gloria confirmed with a nod. "Ronnie was a quiet kid and got bullied, and he let all that build up until one day a student shoved him, and Ronnie snapped. The teacher got involved and Ronnie struck and broke his jaw in a fit of rage. He was just a kid under so much pressure! His Dad was a alcoholic pothead, his mom was awful and abusive... they warped him into this monster."

"What if I told you that he's suspected to be involved in over forty criminal cases ranging from overdoses, stabbings, a shooting, and license plate thefts..."

"My god..." Gloria frowned. She had tears in her eyes. Dove reached for a napkin and handed it to her.

Gloria choked on her words. "He said he was selling drugs and doing this because he couldn't keep down a job! He couldn't handle it! He kept bouncing from job to job, getting fired, or quitting under the pressure. Ronnie needs help!"

"Do you know where he lives currently?"

"No..." sighed Gloria. "I believe he's living with his girlfriend, somewhere in the area. I've only met her once... she's a strange person."

"Okay..." Dove nodded as he wrote that down. "Misses Newman, you have my condolences, and I understand the pain you're feeling right now."

"I love Ronnie to death, and it kills me to think he's become this monster."

"Sometimes that happens sadly. And I want to get him that help by finding him, before he can go and hurt others."

"He can be so kind... but he can be so mean and ruthless..." Gloria shook her head. "Sam and Patty ruined him."

Dove ran his tongue against his upper lip as he looked full of thought on both how he was going to find this guy, and how he was going to now play damage control for targeting the wrong person.

---

Streetlights flickered on one by one in the fading light throughout the downtown. People sat and mingled around the courthouse square at dusk, while a police cruiser rumbled down Park Street. Other than the packed parking spaces around the bistro on the corner of Park and First, downtown Newark was largely dead on a sticky Thursday evening.

Having spent an hour going over a bunch of legal documents pertaining to his lawsuits, Ronnie emerged from Lisa's office, with another huge binder of paperwork in his grip. He walked over to his bike and stowed the binder in one of the side bins and locked it back up for safe keeping to head home. Yawning a bit, Ronnie adjusted his red banana tied atop his head and his vest, before hopping on his bike. He fired it up, and took a moment to don his helmet, when he heard over his own bike's exhaust, a loud roar of a motorcycle. It sounded familiar.

Backing out slowly, he took off towards where he heard the sound, at the intersection of Park and First. He made a right and saw a brown Scout Bobber with a big chrome exhaust, parked in front of an arched glass door with "ARCADE" written above it. Ronnie hopped off his bike and stepped inside, finding a corridor that was dimly lit, with a bunch of abandoned shops. He recalled Talon telling him something about the Arcade being a former shopping place for Newark at the turn of the twentieth century. The place smelled musty, like an attic.

A huge gunshot made Ronnie's heart skip a beat. He dove behind an empty concrete planter, hearing a bunch of commotion and the sound of shuffled feet. He got up and saw a guy stumble out in the intersection. Ronnie ran over to help him.

A blonde furred wolf clutched a bleeding shoulder as he breathed heavily, as though he was in shock. Ronnie tried to maintain his calm.

"Who did this to you, what happened!?" Ronnie asked.

CLICK.

Ronnie froze up to the sound of a revolver being cocked. He slowly turned around to see by an exit, the silhouette of a man holding a gun at him. He stepped forward into a beam of light to reveal his imposter, dressed in his black leathers. A big grin was on his face, twisted and evil as he held a thirty-eight caliber revolver in his black gloved hand. Ronnie didn't know what to do.

"Mister Hells Angel..." the Doberman grinned. "At the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Seems like it."

"Stand up."

Ronnie got up slowly, his arm having a nervous twitch to it as he stared down that revolver.

"Since you're here... gimme the money..."

Ronnie stood frozen.

"GIMME THE MONEY!" the other Ron screamed.

Ronnie slowly reached for his wallet, unsure of how he was going to get out of this one. All he had on him was a knife, stowed in his vest. But one never took a knife to a gun fight... Ronnie was out of options, until he heard the door behind the other Ron swing open.

"SAMSON! DROP THE GUN!" screamed a Sheriff's Deputy. As he reached for his service pistol, the other Ron, startled, spun around with his gun aimed and fired. Ronnie saw his opening and he charged at the other Ron. He tackled Ron into the brick wall and grabbed the revolver. As the deputy dropped to the ground, Ronnie and Ron fought over the gun. Ronnie repeatedly slammed Ron's paw into the wall to force him to drop the gun, but Ron swung and elbowed Ronnie. He momentarily let go, stumbled back in pain from his sore ribs, but grabbed the gun again as Ron tried to spin around to shoot him. Ron grabbed his arm and threw him forward, into a pillar, and the gun went off with a mighty bang. The bullet shattered a window with a mighty crash.

Gripping the hot gun, Ronnie ignored the pain as he twisted Ron's paw. Ron yelled from his arm being contorted out of shape, and he ultimately let go. Ronnie spun around and pistol whipped Ron across the face. He kicked him back into one of the empty planters, and Ron stumbled and fell to the ground. Ronnie ran up and kicked him in the face, knocking his lights out. Ron went limp on the cold concrete floor.

Ronnie ran over to find the deputy lying in a growing pool of blood. He gasped and gurgled from blood oozing from his muzzle. The gray wolf was critically wounded with a nasty neck wound that clearly severed an artery. He saw two impacts on his bullet resistant vest, a bullet injury to his arm, but the neck wound was critical. Ronnie ripped his bandana off and quickly stuffed the wound with his bandana in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Here! Here!" the wounded blonde wolf yelled.

Ronnie held the gun while trying to fiddle around with his phone with his bloody fingers. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron slowly struggle to get up. "Ah, fuck..."

"Here! I can hold the wound! Stop that motherfucker!"

"Okay!" Ronnie called. "Fuck it, here's my phone! Dial for help!"

The blonde wolf nodded and accepted it as Ronnie took off after Ron. "RON!"

The imposter ran as fast as he could as Ronnie chased after him. He threw the gun into the trash and burst through the door to hop on his bike. Just as Ron started to take off by jumping the curb, Ronnie fired his Fatboy up and spun the tires. He took off down the sidewalk after Ron.

Cutting a car off that smoked its tires stopping, Ron roared onto East Church Street. Ronnie jumped the curb and screeched around the same car in pursuit. He held the throttle open and kept pace with that Scout Bobber. As they came up to the intersection with Third Street, Ron made an abrupt turn through a red light when he saw a police cruiser try and cut him off. Ronnie leaned into the turn and smoked the tires as he raced by, barely clipping the Newark cop. The Taurus took off in pursuit of them. Ron made another left, and here they were again, going by the courthouse.

"STOP!" Ronnie screamed. "FUCKING STOP RUNNING RON!"

Ronnie saw an opening and closed the gap, as Ron had to slow down to avoid the roundabout center. Practically pulling up beside him, just as Ron was about to turn onto Church again, Ronnie kicked him in the start of the turn. Ron lost control and slid. When he hit the curb, Ron watched him get ejected off the bike, landing on the sidewalk by an imposing stone church on the corner. Ronnie screeched to a stop and jumped off his bike, which clumsily fell over on its side. He ran after Ron, who limped into an alleyway.

"HEY! STOP!" Ronnie yelled. He watched Ron run and jump on a ladder that took him up an old wrought iron fire escape. Ronnie jumped and grabbed it too, and winced as he climbed up in pursuit. The narrow steps took them up to the roof, just as Ronnie saw a black Charger come screeching to a stop in the middle of the road.

Jumping onto the roof, Ronnie dodged Ron's punch from around a blind spot on a chimney. Ronnie kicked him in the gut, swung, and decked Ron across the face. Ronnie grabbed him and immediately threw the dog into a headlock.

"The fuck is your malfunction!?" Ronnie screamed. "Causing all this mayhem! Shooting motherfuckers! Giving me all your shit!?"

Ron struggled against Ronnie's tight, crushing grip against his neck. Ron kicked Ron in the knee, making him let go and drop momentarily to one knee, before grabbing Ron by the leg and tripping him. Ronnie fell forward and got kicked in the chest by Ron, knocking the wind out of him. Just as he tried to do it again, Ronnie blocked the kick and twisted his ankle, throwing him off balance as Ronnie rolled and got up, his face scrunched in pain.

"FBI! FREEZE!"

Ronnie heard the voice of Dove, and he momentarily saw the gray wolf appear at the fire escape. He jumped over the ledge to the roof, just as a Newark cop appeared.

"FREEZE!" Dove screamed, armed with a submachine gun. "RONNIE! FREEZE!"

Ronnie was suddenly tackled by Ron and the two fell through a stained glass skylight into the church. Dove and the cop ran across the roof in pursuit, as the Newark cop called in for backup and for the church to be sealed off.

"Where the fuck did they go!?"

Dove screamed. "THIS MOTHERFUCKER JUST DID A PETER PAN RIGHT THROUGH THAT WINDOW!"

---

In free fall for one second, Ronnie and Ron landed hard on a couch. With a mighty crash, the two broke the couch in half on impact, as shimmers of glass rained down on them. They were inside the church, on the second floor balcony, overseeing the worship area. Ronnie fell off the couch and grabbed Ron, forcing him to his feet. Ron, wincing in pain, got punched multiple times by Ronnie, only for Ronnie to miss and then get slugged across the face, which drew blood. Stumbling towards the ledge, Ronnie grabbed Ron by his jacket and threw him against the railing. Ron surged forward to tackle Ronnie, but Ronnie threw himself into Ron, and they smashed through the railing, falling another fourteen feet and landing on a giant grand piano, which collapsed with a huge crash. Ronnie landed hard on his back, and Ron jumped off and ran down a hallway. Ronnie was stunned, in immense pain as he laid in the wreckage of the piano.

Rolling and falling to the floor, Ronnie struggled to get up. His ribs felt like they were on fire, and so did his shoulder. From the big stained glass windows, he saw police helicopters light everything up with their floodlights, their rotors practically deafening. Limping towards the hallway, Ronnie braced himself against the entrance, breathing heavily. His wavy hair was a tousled mess, it's locks matted with blood in places. Just as he was about to move, he watched the big church doors get kicked open by Swat, and Ronnie saw them all raise their rifles at him. His eyes going huge, Ronnie threw himself through the doorway as bullets caused the wall to explode above him. He heard Dove screaming for them to stop firing as he ran down the hallway.

"HEY! HEY! HEY!" Dove screamed. "STOP FIRING! CEASE FIRE!"

"HEY!" snarled the Sheriff, a burly brown wolf.

"That's my man!" Dove pointed.

"Not anymore he's not, we're done fucking around with this! We catch Samson he's good for dead!"

"This is the FBI's responsibility."

"Samson shot our deputy."

"Witnesses say otherwise."

"I don't care anymore. He's going down, and we have to kill both, then it's two birds with one stone!"

"You put a bullet in Samson and I'll shut you down in this county." Dove warned. "CLARK! Let's go!"

"Alright!" the black and rust Doberman exclaimed.

"This is our jurisdiction now!" a Swat officer yelled, trying to block Dove, who pushed them aside.

"Arrest us." Dove glared.

"Stand down!" the Sheriff exclaimed. "Let the FBI fuck this one up..."

Dove and Clark entered the church alone, as practically every single Newark cop and Licking County Sheriff's Deputy blocked the whole area off. Helicopters orbited overhead, illuminating with their floodlights.

"You go through that doorway and I got the left..." Dove motioned.

Limping, Ronnie breathed heavily from being in such immense pain. He had to brace himself against the wall at times. The hallway led into another open area of the church, where there were a number of what looked like classrooms and offices. Ron could be hiding anywhere.

"MISTER RONALD DAVID SAMSON!" Ronnie could hear Dove scream. "C'MON, GIVE IT UP! THERE'S NO WAY OUT OF THIS CHURCH! GIVE IT UP, EVERY SINGLE DEPUTY AND POLICE OFFICER IN LICKING COUNTY HAS THIS WHOLE PLACE SURROUNDED AND THEY THINK YOU ARE A COP KILLER! THEY WILL KILL YOU ON SIGHT!"

Ronnie braced himself against a doorway, breathing heavily in the dim light of the hallway. For that moment, he thought about his son, and what would happen to him if he was killed. A tremendous feeling of sadness hit him, a feeling of immense hopelessness.

"RONNIE I KNOW YOU'RE INNOCENT!" Dove's scream resonated. Ronnie immediately perked his head up.

"RONNIE I KNOW ABOUT YOUR IMPOSTER! HIS NAME IS RONALD RICHARD SAMPSON! IT WAS A MASSIVE MISUNDERSTANDING! I KNOW YOU DIDN'T DO THOSE CRIMES! I KNOW YOU DIDN'T SHOOT THAT DEPUTY! THE MAN RONALD SAMPSON SHOT SAID THAT YOU SAVED THAT DEPUTIES LIFE! YOU SAVED HIS LIFE AS WELL! RONNIE! I'M HERE TO HELP YOU! GIVE IT UP!"

Ronnie breathed a huge sigh of relief. Peering around an entrance, he saw Dove in the lobby area down below, armed with what looked like an Mp5 submachine gun.

"AHHHH!"

Ronnie suddenly got attacked by Ron, armed with a serrated knife. His swing just barely missed, and the knife stabbed into the wall. Ronnie punched Ron in the throat, knocking him back some, but Ron was too weak to mount much of an offensive. He grabbed the knife, ripped it out of the wall and threw it down a flight of stairs. Ron grabbed Ronnie by the throat and slammed him repeatedly into the wall. Strangling him, Ron was in Ronnie's face.

Ronnie saw that Ron's blue eyes were as wide as saucer plates, looking empty and dead inside. His breath smelled of alcohol, and there was some white powder on his nose.

"You are fucked up on coke aren't you?" Ronnie muttered.

"What's the point?" Ron asked him.

"I say the same thing too..."

Ron punched Ronnie in the face as hard as he physically could. Ronnie slammed against the wall, stumbled back, blocked another punch, but was punched in the gut by Ron. The furious Dober screamed and hit Ronnie again, punching him in the chest and knocking the air out of him. He kicked Ronnie and dropped him to his knees. Ronnie saw the coup de grace come when suddenly there was a burst of gunfire, ear shattering loud. Ron suddenly grew stiff, his face looking shocked in paralyzed in white hot pain as Ronnie saw blood coming through holes in his leather jacket. Ron's breathing became big gulping gasps, and the life left his face before he fell over to the ground, revealing Dove in the doorway, armed with a smoking Mp5A.

Ronnie saw Dove staring at him with ice cold ruthlessness on his face. Dove had no emotion on his face as he held the submachine gun at Ronnie for a moment. He slowly walked and approached him, just as the sounds of boots storming the church filled every corner. Dove approached and lowered his gun when he saw that it was safe.

Ronnie looked dumbfounded. "That motherfucker has caused me so much trouble..."

Dove held out a paw and helped Ronnie up to his trembling feet. "I know it, Ron. I know everything now."

Ronnie bitterly nodded.

"Now come on... let me see those paws..." Dove motioned as he grabbed his handcuffs. "It's the only way out safe."

---

Strobing red white and blue lights lit up the whole intersection of Church and First, as every cop in the city surrounded the First Presbyterian church. A few local reporters and camera crew watched from a distance as Swat left the church first, followed by a couple FBI agents escorting a badly wounded Ron Sampson, who was carried out on a stretcher being tended to by paramedics. Finally Dove and Ronnie emerged, with Ronnie handcuffed and guided by Dove. Everyone seemed to swarm in as police kept everyone away from Ronnie as Dove escorted him to an all black FBI Suburban. Ronnie saw a Deputy open the door up, and Ronnie was pushed inside, followed by Dove. The windows were of an incredibly dark tint, which Ronnie found a relief from all the public humiliation of being led out in cuffs.

"Hey I need an ice pack!" Dove shouted before closing the door and rolling the window partway down. "Ronnie lemme see your paws there."

Ronnie held his cuffed arms out as he watched Dove unlock the cuffs and throw them to the back of the SUV. A medic gave him an ice pack, which he crushed to activate, and handed it to Ronnie, to put on a nasty bruise that was starting on his forehead again. Ronnie glanced over at a rather calm looking Dove.

"Dove, I thought you didn't give a shit?"

Dove glanced over at Ronnie with a smirk. "That's just standard operating procedure! Heh, just don't tell anyone, okay?"

Ronnie couldn't help but laugh. Of such a crazy evening, ending with him in federal custody? Ronnie just laughed with Dove.

"Let's get you to the hospital, and I'll process your release~" Dove assured.

"Good~ I think I fucked my shoulder up."

"I can see that. Come on let's go."

The black Suburban, escorted by other FBI vehicles, turned around and departed from the downtown in a small convoy, beginning the trek to Licking Memorial Hospital.

---

Two Weeks Later

As fast as the chaos erupted in his life, it seemingly disappeared in a flash.

Monday morning on Moull Street was quiet, with no activity anywhere. Dew glistened in yards as the morning sun rose, casting long shadows in the neighborhood. The sky was milky white from all the smoke still, the last day of July being sticky already at the stroke of eight o'clock. The ratty, unconvincing camper that stalked Ronnie's home for over two months was gone, as were the "joggers" and "bike riders" constantly passing by his house, or the anonymous helicopter that would stop and just hover in view. Life for Ronnie, other than being severely injured, returned to normal.

Wincing as he struggled to get out of bed, Ronnie slowly rose to his feet after literally rolling and contorting himself out of bed. Wearing boxers and a tanktop, Ronnie's tattooed up body was pretty bruised and beat up. His left shoulder and upper back were covered in black and blue bruises, and on top of having bruised ribs that were bruised yet again, he hurt his shoulder and pulled a muscle in his back, leaving him in a haze of constant pain. Ronnie dragged himself to the bathroom, took two Tylenol, and hopped into the shower to start the day. As bad as he felt, it was certainly a better fate than his imposter, Ron Sampson. Sampson was severely injured, and once he sufficiently recovered in the ICU at Riverside hospital, was promptly charged and indicted with over sixty criminal offenses, at both state and federal level. Had he not pled guilty, he would have faced a defacto life sentence in prison.

Emerging from the shower in his usual summer attire of gym shorts and a tanktop, Ronnie slowly made his way over to his desk to do some work from home. It took him a few seconds to sit down gently and avoid aggravating his hurt backside. He glanced over to see Colt and Colby running around in the back yard. It made him smile.

Going through work e-mails and replying to some of them, Ronnie heard the phone ring. Leaning around the monitor he saw on the caller ID that it was Lisa's office calling him. He reached and picked it up, without hearing the faint click that he heard before, signaling that the feds were listening in.

"Hello, this is Ron~"

"Ronnie? Hi it's Jessica from Scheiddegger's office, how are you feeling today?"

"Kinda like death warmed over!" Ronnie laughed sardonically.

"Better than ice picks in your back?" Jessica teased.

"Kinda~ What's up?"

"Hey, Lisa wants you to stop by when you get a chance today, because she received word from the FBI's legal team that they are willing to offer you a settlement, and Lisa thinks you might like what's being offered. And she wants to talk about the suit against the LCSO."

"Could you put her on the line?"

"No, she's currently having a discussion with Rob Barion."

"Oh boy..." Ronnie smirked.

"Yeah, something about that fucking retard ex-Mayor of Chicago..." laughed Jennifer. "She should be available in about half an hour to an hour."

"I'll be over soon, how's that sound?"

"I'll let her know. Thank you, Ronnie!"

"Thank you!"

Ronnie hung the phone back up and he immediately messaged Varg, informing him that he had to step out for a bit to talk to his lawyer. After getting the confirmation from Varg, Ronnie took a deep breath and lifted himself from his chair, his face scrunched up in pain as he went to shove his feet into his shoes. He grabbed his red and white baseball cap and shoved it on his head and walked towards the back door to step out and see his son and Colby playing in the tree by the fence.

"Hey, Colty, Dad has to run to the lawyer's office!"

"Okay, Dad!" Colt waved from the tree.

"I won't be long, so play with Colby!"

"Okay!" Colby waved. Ronnie laughed and smiled as he turned to head for his Civic parked beside the house. He stepped through the gate and unlocked his blue Honda, his eyes gazing where his Fatboy usually sat at. It was undergoing restoration at the Harley-Davidson dealership, after some of the chrome got badly scratched. He fired his Civic up and took off for downtown Newark.

Ronnie drove in silence down Granville Street. His eyes periodically peered up skyward, anticipating the now crashed helicopter. He scanned his surroundings and no longer saw anonymous Dodge Chargers with dark tinted windows. He still felt on edge after two and a half months of chaos. Ronnie tried to relax his sore muscles as he took off at a green light.

Ronnie took a moment to retrace his steps as he entered the downtown. He drove past the Presbyterian church and noticed some construction work going on there. There were tire marks on the road and pavement, a visual scar from their short and intense chase. He passed by the Arcade, where things were quiet as usual. Ronnie made the turn on the roundabout and arrived at Lisa's office on North Park Place. He hopped out and quickly went inside.

---

At her paper strewn desk, Lisa worked as Ronnie sat opposite of her. Her copier ran full speed as she printed out page after page of legalese, pages of tight, tiny type filling from top to bottom. Lisa finished typing, rolled herself over to the copier and grabbed the inch thick stack of papers, which she clipped and handed off to her husband. Lisa then closed the door and rolled herself back to her seat.

"Okay here's the deal, Ronnie. The FBI is willing to give you, after you take into account legal fees and taxes, twenty-seven million dollars to end the lawsuit and make you happy. What do you say?"

"What do you think?" Ronnie asked.

"I would personally just accept the settlement and be done with it, because it would knock half your problems out since you're trying to sue the LCSO as well. It would prevent you from ever being legally held liable for any of this shit, and it would get the feds off your back as you originally wanted in the first place. If you continued to sue the FBI, you could potentially spend years litigating this, and not get anything worthwhile because of the cost. So as your legal counsel, I would recommend the settlement."

"Okay." Ronnie nodded. "Then let's do that."

"Okay, let me print the settlement offer and agreement form."

Lisa typed a few things and hit print and the copier spooled up again to begin printing another big packet of documents.

"Boy, I bet you go through a lot of paper." The dog chuckled.

Lisa smirked. "I chop down whole forests daily, Ronno, you wouldn't believe this shit."

"Now let me ask you about the lawsuit with the LCSO... what if they offer to settle?"

Lisa had a look of ponder on her face momentarily. "Honestly, Ron, if I was you, and from what they did to your home and wrecked you and your son? I would litigate over it. I've battled the LCSO several times."

"With Rob?"

"NO NOT SEVERAL TIMES~" laughed Lisa. "Just once with Rob... thank god... But what I was saying is, I've battled with the LCSO in court, and I've had three clients settle out of court, and they really low-balled on the settlement, but that is what the client accepted and I accepted it because that's my job as their attorney. Now in those cases, the initialization of the entire encounter that led to the charge of police brutality was a justifiable traffic stop that went horribly wrong, usually because the client reacted negatively to the behavior of the deputy."

"Right."

"But I don't want you to settle because all these settlements came with the NDA strings attached."

"Non-disclosure agreement..."

"Exactly." Lisa pointed as she fetched the paperwork to sort. "I think almost killing you and your son does not deserve a NDA... or some shitty settlement."

"Money isn't the point..."

"Well fuck it, if you're gonna sue, go big." Lisa teased with a laugh.

"Oh gee, thanks!" Ronnie laughed with her.

"It's the principle that they did that knowing there was a kid on your bike... and I don't think that's something that needs to be swept under the rug. You have a solid case, you have witnesses to provide testimony, and with the FBI situation, you've cleared your name of any legal scrutiny..."

"Well if that's what you think is best Lisa, then let's do it."

"Plus you got Newark's most ruthless attorney to represent you. Heh, these suits don't buy themselves..." Lisa pointed with a smirk.

"Oh boy..." Ronnie laughed.

Handing Ronnie a pen, Lisa went through the paperwork, as Ronnie jotted his name and initials down on page after page after page. As he signed, Lisa told him that the FBI had suspended Chief Saunders, Agent Dove, and two other FBI agents for their handling of the case. She also informed him that Ron Sampson, having pled guilty, was facing a sentencing hearing in a week or two, and prosecutors were itching for forty years. Ronnie grimaced to the idea to being in prison for slightly under half a century.

As he finished up signing, his cell phone rang. Ronnie tried to ignore it as he finished his signature, but Lisa mentioned he should answer it. Ronnie fished it out of his pocket to find his Mom calling him.

"Mom?" Ronnie asked. He heard a sad sniffle and the faint sound of a hospital PA system in action. "Mom?"

"Ronnie, it's Mom..." came Rhonda's voice. She sounded so weary and sad. "I'm at the hospital with Mom... and I think this is it..."

"Oh no..." Ronnie muttered. "You think this is it for Grandma?"

"They had to put her on a ventilator last night... and... everything's shutting down... she's in a coma... oh Ron... I just don't know what to say... I let my sister know and she's on her way..."

"Oh man..." Ronnie frowned. "Mom... I'm gonna be there to New Jersey as soon as I can."

"Oh god, no, Ron, don't come here and waste money and-"

"Mom I'm coming. You need support 'cause god help you with Aunt Tracy..."

"Alright. I'm at Hackensack Medical Center."

"In Hackensack?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Let me take care of my attorney thing and I'll be over!"

"Ronnie?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"Thank god you're back in my life..."

"You too."

Ronnie put the phone down and looked ashen faced. Lisa knew something was up.

"Is everything okay, Ron?"

"My Grandma is dying..." Ronnie said, looking reflective.

"Oh man..." Lisa frowned. She quickly compiled a bunch of documents, and told Ronnie she needed them done as soon as possible and faxed to her. Ronnie accepted the request and took the manila folder with him as he quickly left.

Stepping outside, Ronnie stopped, closed his eyes, and felt regretful at calling Rob for help again.

"Hey what's up~"

"Rob... I have a major problem in New Jersey... my Grandma is dying... and I need to get there for Mom... Could I steal a flight from you again?"

"Get what you need ready and go to the airport in one hour."

"Okay."

---

With a beneficial tailwind increasing their speed, "Berwick", Barev's posh DC-7B, raced to New Jersey. The blue, silver, and white Douglas powered through the empty mid-day sky, its four blade propellers clawing the air with a muffled roar inside the cabin.

Inside the private tail compartment, Ronnie sat with his boyfriend, who rode along with him after he got the news. Talon sat in a plush leather seat, watching the clouds pass by the unique double-window, while Ronnie worked at Rob's office desk continuing to fill out legal paperwork for Lisa. There was a melancholy feeling in the cabin as they sat listening to the muffled roar of the engines outside.

"It's crazy how you know it's gonna happen, but when it finally comes, you're unprepared for it." Ronnie remarked as he flipped some pages.

"Yeah, I get that." Talon nodded. "Honestly, I hope it's more closure than despair for your Mom."

"Maybe it sounds mean or cold, but I feel more sad for my Mom." Ronnie admitted as he took a break from his paperwork. "I didn't know my Grandma at all, and she wouldn't let me know her."

"Because of your Dad?"

"Yep!" Ronnie sarcastically quipped. "Mom's whole family acted scared of us. So I didn't know my other grandparents because they wouldn't let me know them."

"Maybe it's for the better." Talon shrugged. "See, it's so weird because I have a very close knit family. Both my Dad and Mom's side are very close to each other, and we all go out of our way to help each other no matter what. I mean, hell! If we've all come together for Allison after five times being brought into the ER dead from an overdose, and Dad didn't feed her to Jerry's hogs? That's dedication."

"I'd feel sorry for the hogs~" Ronnie quipped.

"Well yeah, there's that. They'd get hooked on heroin and meth." Talon laughed morbidly.

"Wow, that's fucked up~" Ronnie laughed.

"About as fucked up as Allison's life." Talon grinned.

Ronnie closed his eyes and laughed. "Wow" was all he could say. "That was pretty good though."

"Sometimes if you don't laugh it's too serious." Talon said in a more serious tone.

"I'm doing this for Mom." Ronnie remarked. "Oh Talon, why do I feel like this is gonna be a shitshow?"

"Because it's gonna be a clusterfuck?" Talon sarcastically responded.

"Aunt Tracy, who Mom says hasn't done anything since Grandma got sick, is gonna come swooping in at the last minute and just demand the impossible..."

"OH GOD, the daughter from California..." Talon rolled his eyes.

"I just gotta grin and bear it... I've been through so much shit lately... this is just gonna be a cakewalk..."

"Crashing helicopters, motorcycles, stalked at all hours of the day, fuck! This is a piece of cake!" grinned Talon.

Ronnie just shook his head.

"Berwick" arrived at Teterboro Airport, a relief airport that was closest to land for Ronnie. The DC-7 made a perfect touchdown as all heads turned to watch the immaculate propliner rumble on in. It rolled in on its inboard radials and parked before the terminal building where passengers and workers got a front row seat to the Douglas time capsule. Ground crew approached with an airstair as Ronnie and Talon got ready to depart.

"Ronnie we'll be right here~" came Rob's pilot, Ivo Horvat. Ronnie shook his paw.

"Thanks for doing this on short notice."

"It's what we're here to do~" Ivo chuckled with his slight Croatian drawl.

"I'll try and not take forever... if anything changes I'll let you know."

"It's fine! You take care of your family, Ronnie."

"Thanks."

Going down the shaky stairs with Talon, Ronnie practically ran to the terminal building, feeling time was of the essence. Inside, he spotted his Uncle Les waiting for them in the lobby.

"Thank god you're here, your Mom is gonna need it." Uncle Les said in a serious tone.

"You think this is it?"

Uncle Les silently nodded yes.

"Come on let's go then~" Talon suggested.

---

Choked up with tears, Rhonda sat in a chair by her mother's bedside in the ICU. She held her mother's withered paw in her grip, Patricia laying in a coma in her hospital bed in the ICU. She was hooked up to a ventilator and IV lines ran pumping medication into her atrophied body. But it was clear that there was no hope left after several years of failing health, worsening Alzheimer's and finally pneumonia to perform the coup de grace on the eighty-five year old. Rhonda wanted her suffering over, after witnessing it for years.

"Mom we've been through hell the past six and a half years haven't we?" Rhonda muttered, practically choking on her words as the tears flowed. "I don't want to see you have to suffer like this anymore..."

Rhonda gently placed her paw back on the bed and grabbed a tissue to dab her eyes. A sympathetic looking nurse in blue scrubs stepped in.

"Miss Greeves?" the wolfess asked as she leaned down to check on Rhonda. "Your son has just arrived at the hospital, we have a consultation room available for you."

"Thank you."

"The doctor will want to talk to you soon about your mother's condition..."

"Okay."

"Is there anything I can do to help you, Miss Greeves?"

"No, it's fine. I'm just... a mess right now."

"I understand completely."

The nurse took Rhonda to the consultation room, where just as she stepped in, she saw Ronnie and Talon arrive with Uncle Les and his wife Martha. Rhonda instantly ran over to hug Ronnie tightly. She broke down in tears as she embraced her son, who almost dropped to his knees in immense pain from his back and shoulder.

"It's okay Mom." Ronnie comforted. "It's okay."

"I hate seeing her like this!" Rhonda exclaimed. "I don't want Mom to suffer anymore!"

"I understand, Rhonda, I understand." Les tried to comfort. "Let's wait for the doctor and go from there."

"Okay." Rhonda frowned. Talon handed her a tissue from the box sitting on the table. Rhonda blew her nose and sat down. She looked utterly exhausted. "It's been a very exhausting thirty-six hours..."

"Mom got sick about a week ago. Like a bad chest cold, and it turned into pneumonia. This is her third bout of pneumonia in the past five months. She said she was having a hard time breathing, and collapsed, and the nursing home called the squad. They got her stabilized and she kinda came to for a bit, but slipped into a coma, and they had to put her on life support." Rhonda explained. "Everything's failing, Ronnie. Her organs are failing."

"Her body's had enough, Rhonda." Les nodded. "She's been through trauma after trauma on top of Alzheimer's wrecking havoc."

"I wish for her sake, she'd just pass. So she doesn't have to suffer anymore." Rhonda shook her head. "How much can one person just endure? It's torture now!"

"She has no life basically." Ronnie shook his head. "She doesn't remember any of you, and certainly not me."

"I'm not making the decision alone, I need Tracy here..." Rhonda said as she looked at the clock. "Jesus fucking Christ, how long does it take to get here!?"

"Easy, Rhonda!" Martha exclaimed.

"Well you know how your sister is..." Les sarcastically quipped. "Can't go out without looking nice even in an emergency like this~"

"Yeah, paint her fucking face up like a coloring book..." Rhonda shook her head. "Sorry, Ronnie, I'm being a total bitch right now..."

"Mom, you're frustrated. It's fine." Ronnie assured with a smile.

"Let's see what the doctor has to say, and go from there." Talon suggested calmly.

After a twenty minute wait, the doctor showed up. Dressed in green scrubs and wearing a white lab coat, he stepped in and closed the door behind him. The Labrador looked serious.

"Miss Greeves?" he announced. "I think we both know what this conversation is about."

"Yes." Rhonda nodded.

He sat down beside Rhonda. "Yesterday I told you that we would have a better idea of where we need to be tomorrow... well it's clear that your mother is in really bad shape. She's in renal failure, heart failure, respiratory failure... on top of the advanced dementia. And I think we need to talk about end of life decisions and termination of life support."

"I understand that completely, but I want my sister to be here so it's not one person making that final call."

"I understand."

"I called her and told her about the seriousness of it and she said she's on her way..." Rhonda said, sounded exasperated.

No sooner had she said that did the consultation room burst open to reveal Rhonda's older sister, Tracy Paxton, and her husband, Ken. Tracy was a chubby red Doberman who was sixty-four, with hair that was permed and dyed a really intense platinum blonde. She wore a t-shirt and jeans, the same with her skinny as a rail husband, a black and rust Doberman with tousled salt and pepper hair.

"Tracy, you finally made it." Rhonda said. She got up in an attempt to hug Tracy, who just pushed her back.

"I'm not here for hugs!" Tracy hissed. "What's going on with Mom, what's happening!?"

"Trace... Mom is dying..." Rhonda said seriously. "There isn't any hope."

"Yes there is always hope, Rhonda! Hope in the powers of the good lord!"

"Oh sweet lord..." Les mumbled to Martha.

"Trace... c'mon, not this here... we need to have a serious discussion about it."

"Miss Paxton, hi." The doctor greeted. "I'm Doctor Cunningham."

"What is going on with my Mom? Why are we not medically intervening more!"

"Why don't we have a seat, and talk about this." The doctor suggested.

Tracy looked over at Ronnie. "Who the hell is this, here?"

"That's my son!" Rhonda protested.

"The biker?"

Ronnie rolled his eyes.

"Jesus Christ, what happened to you? You look like you've been in a fight..."

"Yeah weird..." Ronnie responded.

"Let's talk about the situation you're mother is in..." the doctor reiterated with an annoyed gaze.

Tracy had a seat with Rhonda as the doctor explained the situation their mother was facing. Ronnie listened on the other side of the table. It was clear from what the doctor was saying that there was absolutely no hope for Patricia. She was moribund. But it didn't seem to sink into Tracy, who rambled on and on about morality and how they needed to try harder, and blah-blah-blah, "god's will". The doctor looked flustered trying to explain the futility of medical care when he estimated that she had at most a day left to live.

"There has to be a way!"

"Miss Paxton, I do not see any positive outcome for her." The doctor shook his head. "At this point, all you are doing is just prolonging the suffering for your mother."

"Suffering? Do you not know how I feel right now? Do you not think we're suffering!?"

"What are you talking about? Suffering? Where the hell have you been for the past half decade?" Rhonda scoffed. "Did you move Mom into your apartment and take care of her and take her to doctors and shit?"

"What are you trying to say, Rhonda?" Tracy asked, all offended. "Well don't you remember the times I've helped?"

"PFFFT. Go bullshit someone else!" Rhonda laughed. "HELP, HA! Yeah the one time you brought her favorite meal over, and the one time you took her to the doctor's office. I've been the one stuck doing all the dirty work!"

Ronnie grew frustrated over his mom and sister fighting. It was a real screaming match as they argued about ending life support. Martha and Les tried to intervene, but could not stop them. Ronnie grew very annoyed at the waste of time.

"Hey, hey, hey! HEY!" Ronnie screamed. His booming yell made everyone shut up.

"ENOUGH!" Ronnie shouted. "Absolutely enough! This bickering is pointless. You two getting all worked up and screaming about Grandma isn't going to bring her back. The mom that you knew is gone, forever. There is no hope for her. There is no coming back from this, and that's what the doctor has been trying to tell you!"

Tracy looked away at Ronnie with a glum, solemn expression. Her husband stood in the corner with pursed lips.

"I'm sorry to yell but someone is suffering, and the longer we argue about this, the longer we prolong the suffering. Is that what you want? Do you want your mom to suffer more because your faith says it's god's will if she lives or dies? Is faith that selfish? Are you guilty that maybe you were delinquent about seeing and caring for your mom, and now you're being remorseful that you didn't get a chance to spend time with her on the long goodbye? Do you think I want to see Grandma die? Even though I never got to know her. Do want her to just suffer all this just so you can feel good about yourself and your so-called faith in God? What kind of a Christian is that?"

"YOU DON'T KNOW!" Tracy screamed at him. "DON'T YOU DARE QUESTION MY FAITH!"

"TRACY!" screamed Rhonda. "Enough!"

Ronnie glared. "You must think I'm so dumbass muddafucka or something, but I've been through this, twice now!"

Rhonda perked her head up.

"Three years ago my Dad died of Covid. He was in the ICU, on life support and was close to death... and I was asked about terminating life support because there was no hope and not enough ventilators... and... I had to make that terrible choice. But Dad passed away before I could make the final call, as though he didn't want me to have to pull the trigger. And earlier this year, my friend's Grandma who had Alzheimer's died in a freak accident, and I witnessed that accident and helped her! So why don't you stop kicking yourself in the ass, Aunt Tracy?"

Ronnie's face was calm and unflinching. "We put sick pets to sleep when they're suffering at the end. If we love something we set it free. So why do we put the dying through all this pain? For our own guilt? Our remorse? Our selfishness? This is between you and Mom... I'm not here to make any decision on Grandma as that is your mother. I'm here to support my Mom."

Rhonda turned to look at her sister, who had big tears streaming from her bloodshot eyes. "Sis, I don't want to let go of Mom..."

"I don't want to either..." Rhonda said with a frown.

Tracy looked down to the floor and sniffled. "I... I need to see Mom... myself... before I make any decision..."

Rhonda nodded. She glanced at the doctor.

"I can take you back there, Miss Paxton."

"Let's go." Rhonda suggested.

Ronnie watched Rhonda and Tracy get up to go leave for her ICU room. Ronnie stepped out and watched them round the corner with the doctor behind them. Ronnie stood looking introspective. He felt his uncle gently pat his upper back.

"You have your Dad's knack of speaking the truth whether people want to hear it or not." Les complimented. "Your Dad would be so proud of you."

"It's what I do. Just be honest to people." Ronnie shrugged slowly.

"Some people like your aunt live in a fantasy world..."

"What a shitty year..." Ronnie quipped as he crossed his tattooed arms.

---

Patricia Greeves passed away at three-fourteen in the afternoon, exactly fourteen minutes after life support was switched off. Having seen her Mom first-hand, Tracy bitterly accepted that she was gone, and consented to ending care. Their Mom was eighty-five years old. Ronnie and his Uncle Les were present in the room with Rhonda to give her support and say goodbye. To Ronnie, it was a sad occasion to see someone pass, and there was a bitter feeling that he never got to know his grandmother. But it was a blessing to see someone no longer suffer. Rhonda and Tracy at her bedside, quietly reflecting on their mother's death until the mortuary people came to take her body to the morgue. At that point, Rhonda had to leave, unable to be in the room any further. Ronnie and Les followed her out of the room.

Rhonda's eyes were puffy from all the tears as she dabbed them with a tissue. "It's over now."

"Yeah." Les and Ronnie nodded solemnly. "Rhonda, she put up a long fight, but now she can rest and be with your father." Les quipped, trying to comfort her.

Rhonda looked down at the floor. "It's funny... you think you're ready... and you know it's coming... and it still hurts."

"That's how I felt when Dad passed away." Ronnie admitted. "You know it's gonna happen, but when you're told he's gone, it really hits hard."

Ronnie stopped when heard angry footsteps emerge from the ICU. Looking over his Mom's shoulder, he saw Tracy come storming out, with her husband looking desperate to stop her. Tracy screamed and hit Rhonda in the arm, Rhonda immediately turning around to block another hit as Les, Ronnie, and Martha stepped in.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU MADE ME DO THAT!" Tracy screamed, tears streaming from her face. Trying to defuse the fight between sisters, Tracy was held back by everyone, only to get one more slap across Rhonda's face. Rhonda looked enraged and slapped Tracy across the face as hard as she could. Nurses and a doctor intervened with security called.

"Enough, ENOUGH!" Ronnie shouted. "Jesus Christ Aunt Tracy."

"I ain't listening to you, Ron. You ain't family!"

"Heh, maybe for the better." Ronnie stared.

"Come on... let's go." Les suggested.

Ronnie put an arm around his grieving Mom and they turned to leave. Ronnie glared back one more time at a sniveling Tracy and her meek husband. They got into the elevator and watched the doors close.

"Rhonda, I think you need to get away for a few days, and let me handle things." Les suggested.

"Mom, why don't you just come back home with me, and just recuperate." Ronnie suggested.

"I gotta call work..." Rhonda signed. She glanced at a tear in her shirt. "That bitch owes me a new shirt!"

"Easy!" Martha pleaded. "Lordy-be if we get thrown out of this hospital..."

"People grieve differently..." Talon grimaced.

Leaving the hospital, Rhonda called her workplace on her way to her car. Realizing that she needed to go to the airport, she gave the keys to Martha, before saying thanks and giving her a hug. Rhonda hopped back into the sedan with Talon and Ronnie, and Uncle Les took off to head back to the airport.

---

Enroute back to Ohio, the flight aboard "Berwick" was quiet. Everyone sat in the tail compartment where the engine noise was more suppressed. Ronnie sat at Rob's desk, while Talon rested on the bed. Rhonda sat in the plush leather chair, looking burned out while clutching a vase of white calla lilies, a gift from the flight crew after being told her mother died. Ronnie didn't know what to say to make her mother comfortable, and Rhonda looked like she was taking the time to process everything that had happened.

"Mom are you okay?" Ronnie asked.

Rhonda exhaled slowly. "It's all over."

"Yeah."

"I've been dreading this day for the past half decade, that Mom was gonna pass away from this, and it's happened. Maybe I've had enough time to mourn because I'm starting to feel... closure? Is that the right word? Relief? Closure?"

"Well you know she's not suffering anymore." Ronnie remarked. "That's why I don't get Aunt Tracy."

"Trust me, you're not missing much." Rhonda rolled her eyes. "Tracy is a full of herself born again hypocrite. Faith... god's will... ha. So self-righteous and full of shit! I'd ask my sis for help and she acted like she was above doing this. 'Oh just put her in a nursing home and be done with it!'."

"She actually said that?"

"Yeah!" Rhonda exclaimed. "She wanted me to put her in a nursing home from the get-go, but I just couldn't. She didn't have the money anyways to do that. I tried and I tried and I tried to keep her home for as long as I could, but I had to put her in, and she was so upset. I knew when I put her in the home, it was only a matter of time."

"Unfortunately that's the way it goes, Mom." Ronnie nodded.

"I don't think me and my sister are gonna speak after this..." Rhonda admitted. "I want to get through the funeral and the estate issue... and that's it, if we speak, great, if we don't... well... it ain't my first rodeo with my family."

Ronnie looked away solemnly.

Rhonda turned around in her chair and watched the clouds outside the cabin window. "I really screwed a whole bunch of people's lives up twenty years ago. Mine... and you and your Dad."

"That's the past Mom~"

"I was tired of being the biker bitch, I was tired of constantly having to go to club events, do everything with a bunch of bikers all the time! I was tired of being the ire of my family... the negative remarks, the bitching about how I married Dave, blah, blah, blah. So I left, I got divorced, and they still screwed me over... go figure my luck huh?"

"The grass isn't always greener on the other side." Ronnie shook his head.

"Dave was my high school sweetheart. I loved how mellow he was, how easygoing he could be. From the first time I met him way back in seventy-eight, I knew Dave was special. But I knew he was gonna be a Hells Angel, just like his Dad. He was dead set, and he did it. So it didn't matter if the Samsons all ignored him and his Dad, because they had thousands of other people to line up and love them and be there for them. And I never appreciated that."

Rhonda looked regretful. "I really miss Dave. I wish I could call him right now and talk to him."

"I miss him too." Ronnie frowned. "We were best friends from that day until he died."

Rhonda looked at Ronnie and smiled at his face. "My son... I'm so happy to have you back in my life."

Ronnie smiled back. "I'm so happy to have you back too, Mom."

"So if they don't like you because you're with the Hells Angels? Fuck 'em." Rhonda concluded.

"Same here. Well, not literally!"

Rhonda and Ronnie laughed together.

Rhonda smiled as she shook her head at her son's condition. "God you're so beat up."

"Yeah, chasing your imposter and doing a Peter Pan through a window kinda sucks..." Ronnie sarcastically quipped. "Did I tell you getting shot at and having a gun aimed at you sucks as well?"

"My poor baby~"

"It ain't my first rodeo~" chuckled the Doberman.

"The amount of shit your Dad had to deal with..." Rhonda rolled her eyes. "Anywhere we went, people thought your dad was up to no good... Your Dad was the antithesis of a criminal biker... heck, he didn't even drink much!"

"See what I mean? You can't judge a book by its cover."

Rhonda nodded. "My parents are gone now, and it's just my sister, and if she doesn't walk to speak to me after all this? Then that's fine. Because I have what matters in my life now."

"Same." Ronnie smiled. "When we get back to Newark, I got a surprise for you!"

"Oh?"

"Remember you had said you were thinking about moving to Ohio to be closer to us? Well, I got something you might really like~"

After an uneventful two and a half hour flight back to Heath, Ronnie and his Mom disembarked from the plane with Talon. Ronnie carried the vase of flowers while Rhonda carried her backpack with some clothes she had packed for her stay at the hospital. They all hopped into Ronnie's Civic to head back to Newark. Ronnie took the expressway back to the Krebs Addition, and pulled off Granville Street onto Euclid. He pulled up to the front of a light gray house by the corner of Euclid and Leslie Drive.

"Well Mom, meet your future home!" Ronnie announced.

Rhonda unbuckled herself and hopped out to stand in the middle of the front yard of her new house. A look of complete shock graced her face. It was a single story ranch, with a nicely landscaped garden, and big windows that had light gray curtains pulled shut.

"Surprise!" Ronnie smiled.

"Oh my god! Ronnie!" Rhonda exclaimed. "How did you do this!?"

"It's not what you know, it's who you know~" Ronnie chuckled.

"Onlyfans..." Talon teased with a grin, only to be elbowed jokingly in the gut.

"Shut up..." Ronnie snickered as he walked over to be with his Mom.

"Well Mom, what do you think?"

Rhonda immediately turned and pulled Ronnie into a big hug. Forgetting about his hurt shoulder and back, Ronnie nearly fell to the ground in pain, only to be caught by Talon.

"Oh shit I forgot!" Rhonda exclaimed.

Ronnie took a deep breath as his face was scrunched up in pain. "It's fine, it's fine."

"I love it, Ronnie! My god!" Rhonda exclaimed.

"We even got some furniture in there for you~" Talon smiled.

"And the garden! It's beautiful!"

"That's all on me~" Talon boasted with a big grin. "Good ole' Bradley Landscaping Services!"

Ronnie put an arm around his boyfriend. "The best in town~"

"When you're good you're good~" Talon grinned with a laugh.

Rhonda looked back at the house and breathed a sigh of relief. "Sometimes one door closes... another opens..." She was interrupted by her phone ringing, which she found was her boss calling her. Ronnie watched Rhonda answer the phone and her face immediately growing cross. From what the conversation sounded, it was her workplace scolding her for missing so many days, and threatening her with termination. Rhonda ended the call with a very loud "fuck you!" before hanging up. She looked at Ronnie with a smug smile and threw the phone over her shoulder. "Fuck it!" she shouted with a laugh.

"Oh boy..." Talon chuckled. "Rage quit... I like that~"

"I hated that job anyways... Come here Ronnie, lemme hug you again!"

"Gentle! Gentle!" Ronnie laughed as he got hugged by his Mom, who held him close for a long time. Ronnie put his arms around her, closed his eyes and smiled, feeling happy himself after a bittersweet day.

---

After spending all morning and afternoon at a record store in Cincinnati to promote his band's music and sign autographs, Ronnie stopped at a diner to grab a late lunch before driving home to Newark. He stepped inside the old fashioned chromed diner to order a burger and shake. He glanced outside the tinted windows at the heat waves radiating off everything. August was a definite heat wave of stagnant, moist, miserable heat.

He sat alone at a booth, munching on his burger slowly and dragging fries through a squirt of ketchup as he reflected on recent events in his life. He was now a millionaire, having received his check from the FBI settlement. He even got himself another motorcycle, a "gift" from the FBI in Ron Sampson's Scout Bobber. But Ronnie wasn't interested in a bike that gave him so many troubles, so he planned on giving it as a gift to a prospect who was going to be patched in soon with the Akron chapter.

Having a lot of money felt surreal to Ronnie, twenty-seven million now sitting in the bank. It didn't feel any different than when he didn't have money, though the financial headroom was nice now. After getting the settlement, he had a long chat with Rob, who not only referred him to his investment banker, but reminded him of the great responsibilities with being wealthy, and an obligation to use his wealth for good instead of being "another stuck up asshole with an Audi". Ronnie had plans to use his money to protect his band, and invest it for him and his son's future.

His album and singles were still doing really well in the charts, and it frustrated him that he couldn't do more to promote them. It was the reality that all of them had families and careers that stood in the way of a tour. Even shooting a music video was out of the question for the moment, as Ronnie's face and body continued to heal from his injuries in not only the motorcycle crash, but falling through a skylight. But Ronnie was assured that "everything will work out in the end".

After his grandmother died, Rhonda packed her bags and said goodbye to Teterboro, and permanently moved to Newark. She practically sold all of her stuff, and gave her mother's assets all to her sister, and then cut all ties. Rhonda ultimately got a job at Licking Memorial Hospital, working as a receptionist in the patient records department. Having his Mom close made him happy, and he knew his Uncle Les was planning on visiting soon to see how they were all doing. Ronnie was very happy that his mom and uncle were back in his life.

As he thought about all that, he heard the bell on the diner door jingle as the door opened. Ronnie saw out of the corner of his eye a familiar figure emerge, the imposing appearance of Special Agent Gary Dove. Or was he a Special Agent now? Ronnie realized who he was and was taken aback at how casual he looked. Dove wore a pair of blue gym shorts and a gray t-shirt. His feet were shoved into a pair of blue and white Nikes. The usually well brushed and maintained brown hair of his was now tousled, and a tired, burned out expression graced his face. He immediately made eye contact with Ronnie and walked towards him. Ronnie didn't know what to say.

"I recognized your car." Dove remarked with a smirk that very briefly registered on his face. "What are you doing here in Cincinnati?"

"I was at a record store event." Ronnie remarked. "You?"

"Oh... stopping to grab a bite to eat after visiting the unemployment office for some paperwork..." Dove remarked. "Do you mind if I sit here for a moment?"

"Not at all."

Dove sat down and leaned forward a bit on the table. "You look a lot less threatening without your colors on."

"That's not the first time I've heard someone say that." Ronnie chuckled.

"So Mister Samson? Are you happy?"

"You can just call me Ron, Agent Dove."

"Well, not Agent now..." Dove admitted. "I'm on an unpaid administrative leave pending the outcome of an internal investigation in Quantico that could decide whether I keep my job or not. You can just call me Gary, Ron."

"I am... content with the settlement. Though I must admit that I still don't feel absolute closure over my pending lawsuit with the Sheriff's office, and just... the whole situation. It hasn't completely settled for me."

"Understandable." Dove nodded. "Ron, I think I owe you a major apology over this debacle."

"Well it's all water under the bridge now."

"This whole unmitigated disaster started because the first victim reported about being attacked and robbed during a drug deal by a guy who matched your description. And when the name 'Ron S' appeared, we already were aware of you after you stopped those bikers last year from killing that woman."

Ronnie nodded.

"The investigation started legitimately, and it ended up devouring its own children. There was this surefire confirmation bias that it was you because you are a member of the Hells Angels, everyone was one hundred percent certain they could nail you for it... but the evidence just never matched up. You were never in the right place, you never had any incriminating evidence, and you were cooperative with us and established air-tight alibis. And instead of processing that, it was just keep pushing. Keep pushing, he'll slip up, keep monitoring. And in the end, what did we accomplish? We lost thirty-four million dollars, we lost a two million dollar helicopter, a million in medical fees, and multiple FBI agents injured, and for what? The wrong person? That's on me for going along with it..."

"You know, out of this whole clusterfuck, you were the only person who showed me and my son any niceness." Ronnie remarked as he placed his paws on the table. "You didn't rub it in our face, you didn't trash our home, or run us off the road, or try and goad a fight..."

"That is the requirement of being a federal agent." Dove explained. "It goes to show that even in our field, we are not immune and above to our biases and prejudices."

"The problem in law enforcement Dove is that there's good people stuck in a bad system. People can say what they want about me being in a 'biker gang' quote on quote, but law enforcement behave in the same manner? There's an identification with colors, an us-versus-them mentality, and a superiority complex that comes from wearing a badge that gives the wearer a license to kill, with a giant supranational police union that can sweep almost any problem under the rug? So at the end of the day? Who's who? The line between hero and villain are blurred."

Dove nodded. "Ron, you're very articulate. And I think it's unfair that people just constrain you to the stereotypical dumb biker. You're a talented guy, and you're a good father. And I can tell you're a good father because of the way your son won Agents Casper and Brannigan over when you stopped at my office back in June. They said he was a little gentleman, and very sweet. And he spoke so highly of you as the best dad ever."

Ronnie smiled. "Colt is my pride and joy. And if it was just me? Frankly, I wouldn't have given a shit about any of you and what you did to me... but I got upset and sued because my son was getting so scared. He was scared that you guys were going to come and take him away from me."

Dove looked away momentarily, looking regretful. "I think what completely changed my mind about you was the motorcycle crash."

"My throttle broke, and I lost power, and they hit me."

"Frankly, it doesn't matter about that. They shouldn't have engaged you like that from the get-go. It's reckless barbarism, frankly, and that Sheriff's office has so much shit on its record, you'd be blown away. And if you need people to testify for you, I will gladly speak for your behalf, because I was very disgusted by what I witnessed. And I hope it would help bring you more closure."

"I would be very appreciated if you did that."

"If you still have my business card, my cell number is on it." Dove pointed out.

"Thanks." Ronnie nodded. "You know, I got a call recently from an FBI agent in Quantico, that's overseeing the investigation you mentioned about. He asked me a bunch of questions on how I felt about the situation, and told me a bit about what happened... and I told him that I really don't want to see you get fired, because you gave a shit about me and my son, even when you thought we were guilty."

"Well even if you're guilty or not, you're entitled to basic civil liberties." Dove shrugged. "That's the thing again about law enforcement that some police officers forget about. The badge does not say be an asshole, or gloat about shit. You were never charged with a crime, and it was an exploratory investigation and monitoring, that again, went out of control. And I really appreciate your kind words."

"Well I appreciate you diving into that pond to get Colt."

"Well I'm a Dad too. It's a Dad thing~" Dove smiled. "Well Ron, I best let you get back to finishing your lunch before you head home. I hope you have a safe drive."

"Thanks, Dove, you too."

Dove smiled and as he got up, he extended a paw. Ronnie glanced at if for a second, and accepted it as he shook it with a smile back.

"Good luck, Dove."

"Thanks, you too."

Ronnie watched Dove depart and go back to a blue Ford Fusion, which soon departed for the road. Ronnie finished up his lunch, paid the bill, and hopped back into his Civic for the three hour drive back to Newark. Hopping onto I-71N for the long drive, Ronnie engaged the cruise control, and listened to some music. He sat and thought some more to himself, and thought long and hard about what he felt restless about. The lawsuit didn't really bother him, as that was beyond his control. He thought long and hard about what he needed closure for.

---

"Well here we are... paradise on earth..." chuckled Talon as he arrived at the Chillicothe Correctional Institution, just outside of Chillicothe. The gray Sierra burbled up to the security perimeter and checkpoint. Menacing barbed wire covered everything. Pulling up, Talon rolled the window down as a security guard approached.

"Good morning, welcome to CCI, state your business!" he greeted as Talon handed his ID and Ronnie's to the guard, who examined it.

"I'm here to see a friend~" Ronnie sarcastically quipped as they were let in. Talon rolled slowly past the checkpoint and into the prison's parking lot at the "welcome center", an ironic title for such a place. Talon and Ronnie hopped out after parking in the shade of a tree. The morning heat was amplified by the black pavement they walked across before stepping inside the air conditioned building.

While Talon sat in the lobby, Ronnie ventured up to the welcome desk and asked to see Ron Sampson. He signed a form and waited as it was processed. A police officer approached.

"You're Mister Hells Angel aren't you, bub?"

"In the flesh~" Ronnie smiled in a sarcastic way.

"I've heard a lot about you..."

"Oh I'm sure~ It's been a crazy time..."

"Mister Samson? If you'd like to head through that door, here's your paperwork you need to give to the guard."

"Thank you~" Ronnie nodded as he took the pink slip and headed through a reinforced glass and steel door down a hallway.

Ronnie walked down a long corridor, which was painted white and pale gray, with cold white fluorescent lighting that hummed. Ronnie hated it, it felt so cold and impersonal, like he was in a totalitarian realm. He went to a visiting area, where a number of booths and phones were set up, with a thick pane of reinforced glass between them. Ronnie handed his paperwork to the guard, who went to go fetch the prisoner. Ronnie took a seat in the empty room. The clock quietly ticked away just outside of his view. There was a faint sound of a door slamming shut and the sound of footsteps approaching.

Emerging from around a corner was Ron Sampson himself, looking glum in orange scrubs. His long locks of wavy hair were gone, and instead he had a buzz cut of brown hair between his pointy cropped ears. Ronnie took a moment to just stare at him, and Ron looked at him with an almost sort of annoyed gaze. He slowly reached over to pick up the black telephone, and Ronnie did the same.

"You're interrupting breakfast, Mister Hells Angel, what do you want from me?"

"What? We can't talk?" Ronnie asked with a snarky little laugh. "I wanted to see you!"

"Yeah? And what the hell do you want?"

"I want to talk, let some steam off." Ronnie said calmly. "I like your short buzz cut."

"I don't."

"I like it 'cause we can't get mixed up again."

"Huh?"

"You and your stupid lil' crime spree gave me a world of problems... you know that right? You've given me and my son a lot of problems the past couple of months..."

"Yeah... I... kinda lost control of things."

"That's an understatement."

"Are you just here to fucking gloat, dude?"

"I can't make a joke? Lighten up." Ronnie laughed. "And you're not in a position to really get upset when you have nobody else to blame but yourself for this predicament."

"You're an outlaw biker... why are you trying to lecture me on crime. Ain't that what you're supposed to be doing?"

"No?" Ronnie fumbled his brow. "There's no policy that says 'you must do crime and make money'. Now are there people who do that? Yes. But me? No. I have no interest in that shit because I got too much to lose. So why, Ron. Why did this all happen?"

"I'm sick and tired of bouncing from job and after job, after dead end job, coming up with last minute, desperate solutions for fucking retards who don't know what they're doing. Constantly let go because of stupid shit. I'm tired of wasting my life working my ass off with nothing to show! And I thought... I could make money with my side hustle... my fix... and I... kinda lost control of it, and kinda fucked myself up... and I'm still going through detox... it sucks when you feel it at night..."

"So that's why you started doing more and more daring stuff..."

"I did it because I could..." Ron glared. "Unlike you, I don't have family to back me up."

"Please spare me the excuses. I know your background." Ronnie stated bluntly. "Your parents got divorced when you were young. They used you as a pawn in their divorce, and pitted you against each other. You were bullied. You were the quiet kid in the school who snapped. And you're one of the millions of people who feel lost and confused at who they are and what they're meant to be. And you fell into that trap. I'm sorry you had a rough early life, but that's not gonna cut it."

Ronnie was unflinching. "I grew up and had a rough teenage years... my Mom left me when I was twelve, and it was just me and my Dad. My Dad would work sometimes up to a hundred hours a week to make ends meet. I had to get a job when I was sixteen to help him out. I lost everything when I was twenty-six! Then my Grandpa, my girlfriend, and my Dad all died right after the next, my apartment burned down, and then I had to make an abrupt last second decision to move to Ohio to take up a job offer. But that never once made me want to do drugs or dabble in criminality to make ends meet. Because I have my son, and that's more important to me than anything else in the world. And I want my son to grow up and say he had the best dad ever, just as I said about my dad, and he could say the same about his dad. And they were both lifelong Hells Angels."

"Wow."

"Think about it, buddy. You're twenty-nine years old, you have now an ex-girlfriend who is pregnant with your child... and that kid's gonna grow up being raised by some other father. You just threw your whole life away for short-term money! If you cannot get paroled, you'll be fifty-nine when you can be released! And if you get parole? You'll be forty-four at the earliest... dude... your whole golden years of your life... gone. Wasted. And you have nobody to blame but yourself."

Ron looked down at the ground. "You don't have to be so mean..."

"It's the truth, and sometimes it hurts." Ronnie glared. "I'm upset because you terrorized my son by having the police hunt and stalk us at all hours of the day. I don't give a shit personally if it was just me, but to have my son be scared at night, and want to sleep with me because he's afraid someone's gonna take us away? That really hurts, man."

Ron pursed his lips as he listened. "...I'm sorry that I scared your son."

"I'll accept that." Ronnie nodded. "I hope you can do something to turn your life around. You got three decades to try. You can't let the pain of the past steer your ship towards the future. You gotta let go, and let it be. So this is my suggestion. Do something while you're here. Go to school, learn, find a talent and stick with it. Play the long game."

"Long game?"

"I could have been like some bikers and just play the short game and make a lot of money doing stupid shit, but what's the point if you get busted? Everyone fucks up eventually. I played the long game with my music... it took a while, but now me and my brothers have a band that's successful. So why don't you think about that, Ron. Think about what you want to do? Do you want to be here forever? Or do you want to change? Nobody can make that decision for you. Only you can."

"Good luck." Ronnie concluded as he hung up the phone and left. Ron was left sitting, looking unsure of what to make of the encounter as he watched Ronnie leave through the door.

---

Across the street from the prison was the Hopewell Culture National Historic Park, a restored set of indigenous American earthworks near the Scioto River. An ironic juxtaposition from the cold barbed wire, concrete and steel, the park was lush and green, a perfect backdrop for a lunch break before going home. Near the flowing Scioto, Ronnie and Talon sat in the shade by the trail, eating lunch and listening to the river babble against rocks on the shore.

Talon leaned against a tree, reading a text from his Dad on the phone. He spun it around to show Ronnie a photo of Colt and Emily looking all excited being at the zoo with Dale as they watched penguins swim in the exhibit.

"Aww, that's so cute." Ronnie smiled. "Colty looks like he's having so much fun."

"My Dad really loves Colt." Talon chuckled. "He's like another grandson to him, and enjoys takes him places with Emily and the other grandkids. It makes my Dad so happy to be able to do this all over again just like when we were kids."

"I think Colt finds Dale as a new grandpa to him, since he was only four when Dad passed away." Ronnie remarked. "He always tells me how excited he was that Dale took him fishing, hiking in the woods with the other grandkids."

"He's a very nice kid." Talon smiled. "What did you do to not get a spawn of Satan?"

Ronnie chuckled and just shrugged. "I guess just not be a phony? I mean, my Dad always told me that kids might be silly, but they're a pretty good judge of character in their own way. Plus I don't let things get out of control like some parents, and I don't feel the need to spank my kid or beat his ass..."

"Oh boy..." Talon chuckled. "I had a guy who worked for my landscaping company get arrested in our office for child abuse. His method of discipline was beat his kid senseless with a spatula till he got black and blue bruises. It's terrible."

Ronnie shook his head. "I could never do that. People have asked me if my Dad beat my ass, and I said 'uhh, no?' and they seemed surprised, like automatically having a Dad who's a biker automatically meant I was gonna get my ass beat."

"Stereotypes, Ron."

"Unfortunately." Laughed Ronnie. "But fuck 'em, let 'em think that way."

"Well do you feel better after talking to your doppelganger?"

"Yeah, I think I do." Ronnie nodded. "I'm glad they shaved his head and goatee, because he's got a real baby face. Heh! I used to have a baby face if I didn't have facial hair, that's why I grew it out! But... after half a decade of just everything going wrong, not anymore at thirty-two!"

"The adult daycare I have has frosted my hair up some..." Talon rolled his eyes. "Fuck! Getting old sucks! But what else can you do~"

"Gay death, Talon." Teased Ronnie.

"Oh yeah, I'm thirty-eight." Laughed Talon. "But now I got my sexy sugar daddy boyfriend to take care of me!"

Ronnie gave a blank expression at his boyfriend. "Talon I'm younger than you."

"Just go with it! Just go with it!" Grinned Talon.

"You're lucky you're smoking hot..." Ronnie laughed as he smiled at him. He reached out and caressed Talon's sleeved arm.

Talon grinned and flexed his left arm jokingly. "I'm like a fine wine motherfucker, I get better with age."

"Oh boy..." Ronnie laughed. "Studly."

Talon laid down opposite of Ronnie, striking a sexy pose. "Draw me like one of your French girls, Ronnie!" he exclaimed before farting loudly.

"Jesus Christ, Talon! Stop ripping ass!" Ronnie exclaimed with a laugh.

Talon fell over onto his back laughing. "Oh god, that was perfect."

"You are fucking gross." Ronnie laughed. "But you're also fucking hot."

"One of a kind huh?" Talon chuckled.

"Yeah." Ronnie smiled. "And that's why I love you."

"Love you too." Talon smiled.

Ronnie chuckled and smiled in return as he laid with Talon in the shade. "...my ass is still sore from last night..."

"You're welcome." Talon grinned before giving him a kiss. "You're getting better though!"

"Oh boy, maybe I'll be cumdump material like you someday."

"Never know till you try." Talon grinned.

"It's crazy to think how fast a year has been. We've been together for a year now."

"Yeah, and it's been great." Talon smiled.

"Is our current arrangement still okay? Like we live apart, we see each other during the week and then weekends? Do you want to maybe look for a house together or anything?"

"C'mon we got all the time in the world." Talon assured. "Well until Trumpies blow this whole country up in a civil war of something. Crazy!"

"Crazy is an understatement..."

"I knew a girl like that..."

"Oh god..."

"Just sayin'. Crazy never dies~"

Ronnie laughed as he got up to pick up the trash. "God, you're lucky you're sexy."

"It's that big dick energy!" Talon laughed as he got up and picked up a candy wrapper to throw in Ronnie's bag.

"Nothing wrong with that!" Ronnie smiled as he took Talon's paw and they walked on the trail together. In an unguarded moment, Ronnie held Talon's paw as they walked, feeling happy as they began to make their way back to the truck.

---

Lifting the lid up on her new grill, Rhonda waved the smoke away as she cooked burgers and hotdogs for everyone. In her fenced in backyard, Ronnie and Talon stood talking to Wildhog and Bluto, who rode down from Akron to attend Rhonda's cookout. Uncle Les and his wife stood with Dale and his wife Beverly, having a conversation over some wine coolers. Colt and the kids ran around having fun. Ronnie glanced over at his mom cooking, and he could tell she looked so happy now. It made him smile; things were finally looking up again.

A loud rumble out front got Ronnie's attention, as he excused himself to go check. A moment later, Ronnie returned with his friend Bruce, dressed head to toe in his black leathers and Outlaws cut. Wildhog and Bluto froze.

"Hey, I want ya'll to meet Bruce Faybien, who helped me out with my imposter." Ronnie greeted.

Wildhog had a big grin on his face as he shook Bruce's paw. "It's not every day you meet an Outlaw in a situation that isn't gonna be a fight!"

"There's a first for everything isn't there?" Bruce teased with a big grin on his tough face.

"Furious floof, eh?" Bluto smirked.

"You're a fellow furious floof too." Bruce teased.

"Damn fuckin' straight!" the chubby malamute grinned. "I need to get a helmet like that Wildhog!"

"My daughter made this one for me." Bruce chuckled as he took it off and adjusted his bandana.

"Look I wanna tell you that I appreciate you helping Ron out when shit was hitting the fan for him." Wildhog complimented. "I really appreciate that for helping a brother out."

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Chuckled Bruce. "That motherfucker was giving us problems in Columbus."

"So it seems." Wildhog nodded. "We were gonna search for him and stomp his ass."

"Same here." Bruce responded.

"You got everything under control here?" Ronnie asked as he saw his mom set some potato salad in a big bowl of ice.

"Oh yeah~"

"You look so happy."

"I am happy! This is the best thing that's happened in decades!" Rhonda smiled big as she ran into the kitchen to grab some paper plates and plastic cutlery.

Sitting down at a big plastic table in the yard, everyone dug into some food and conversed with each other. It was a joyous occasion as everyone talked about their lives and what was going on.

"So Rhonda, how are you liking your new job?" Martha asked.

"Oh it's fantastic. I work for the hospital records department. They pay me well, and I don't have to deal with the bullshit like before in my old job."

"Well that's good!" Les exclaimed. "You know your sister's a bitch."

"Hell I could have told you that!" Rhonda snorted.

"She called me in a fit of rage, accusing you and me of stiffing her on your mom's financial assets."

"What?"

"She thinks you stole money."

"Nursing home? Medical fees? That ain't paying for itself!"

"I told her that if she wants to sue you and me, she's welcome to do it." Les shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it."

"Guess I'm not missing much..." Ronnie shrugged.

"Nah." Rhonda said with a sarcastic swipe of her paw.

"Do you think you're ever gonna speak to your sister again?" Talon asked curiously.

Rhonda shrugged. "Maybe when she gets her head out of her ass... but you know what? I have my family again now. And I'm happy about it."

"I'm happy you're back too, Mom." Smiled Ronnie.

"And you got a big loud dysfunctional family in us!" Bluto grinned big.

Rhonda smiled and laughed. "I appreciate it, Bluto."

"I can see where Ronnie gets his smarts from." Wildhog teased as he glanced over at Ronnie.

"Well that's from Dave. I was absent for a long time... so that was all Dave." Rhonda admitted.

"He was a really nice guy the few times I met him." The black wolf nodded. "A shame he's gone."

"Yeah." Rhonda nodded. "Sometimes you don't realize what you got till it's gone."

"How she goes." Wildhog nodded.

"I've dealt with so much shit over the years, and finally, I really feel happy here in Newark. It's... different than Teterboro~"

"Newark is where hopes and dreams come to die." Grinned Talon.

"Methheads and pedophiles." Dale joked disparagingly.

"Oh you got that in New York too!" Les joked. "Hop on a subway and see a guy next to you passed out from heroin~"

"Crack kills." Ronnie joked.

"So Ronnie, you said you got that bike for Braxton?" Bluto asked.

"Yeah, the Bobber should be coming out of the shop mid-week." Ronnie nodded.

"Wait, did you get that motherfucker's Scout Bobber?" Bruce asked.

"I did~" Grinned Ronnie. "But I decided that someone else deserves it, so I'm having it worked out and repainted."

"So the feds won't go after them?" Wildhog laughed.

"Nah, they just got me for that." Chuckled Ronnie. "I'm painting it candy red and having the death head insignia installed. And I'll haul it up for Braxton's patching in ceremony."

"He deserves it." Bluto nodded. "Especially after that nice ass bike got destroyed by a runaway car."

"Ya know I've had that happen too. Why can't the car just go left or right?" Ronnie joked.

"If only, huh?" Talon grinned.

"Force fields someday." Ronnie laughed.

"Ha, that's great. You got that motherfuckers bike." Bruce grinned. "I love it."

"A fitting reward for all the shit he put me through..."

"I knew a girl like that as well." Talon snickered.

"Shut up." Ronnie laughed with everyone.

---

Pulling into the BP off Dayton Road, Ronnie rolled up to the diesel pump to top his truck off before the long drive to Akron. Strapped down in the bed was the Scout Bobber, now repainted in a dark metallic candy apple red, with the Hells Angels' death head insignia installed on it. Freshly redone chrome glistened in the high noon sunshine.

Hopping out with money in his grip, Colt went to the shop to buy them some drinks while Ronnie paid at the pump to refuel. He squeezed the trigger and watched the money flow as he leaned against his red one ton. Glancing over and seeing Colt stand in line, Ronnie heard the sound of tires approach. He turned his head to gaze at a Licking County Sheriff's vehicle pull up beside him on the opposite side of the pump. Ronnie tried to mind his business, but heard the sound of footsteps. He braced for it.

"How's it going?" came a gray wolf. Ronnie looked up and recognized the Sheriff's Deputy as the gray wolf who was shot and wounded by Sampson. Ronnie was surprised to see him back in his uniform on patrol. He looked calm to see him.

"Well it's going." Ronnie said, mustering a smile for him. "I'm surprised to see you back on patrol."

"Almost there." The Deputy said. "I still don't have my strength back all the way, so light duties it is."

Ronnie nodded in understanding.

"I don't want to keep you long, but I wanted to say again, thanks for saving my life."

"I wasn't going to let you bleed to death." Ronnie shook his head. "We're all supposed to help each other in a time of crisis."

"You'd think so."

"Unfortunately some men just wanna watch the world burn~" Ronnie shrugged, hearing the fuel nozzle click off. He topped off the tank and stowed it away, just as Colt returned. Colt stopped and looked at the Deputy a bit shyly as he held two bottles of iced tea in his grip.

"How are you feeling today Deputy Harwick?" Colt asked.

"Much better." The wolf smiled. "Well you best get on your way with your Dad!"

"Yeah, we got a long drive don't we?" Ronnie smiled at his son as he accepted a drink from Colt.

"You drive safe and take care." The Deputy waved before going back to his cruiser.

"You do the same. Take care~"

Ronnie hopped into his truck and took off for the highway, heading east towards Coshocton. Route 16 turned into Route 36, and he followed it all the way to I-77. Merging onto the interstate, he drove north with the mid-day traffic.

Colt reached over to change the playlist on Ronnie's phone, switching to an eighties playlist, Colt played "They Don't Know", a Tracy Ullman song. Ronnie chuckled at the cheeky pop song and sang it with Colt.

"They say we're crazy but I just don't care

And if they keep on talking

Still they get nowhere

So I don't mind if they don't understand

When I look at you and you hold my hand

'Cause they don't know about us

And they've never heard of love!"

Ronnie and Colt laughed together.

Arriving to Akron at the clubhouse, the driveway was packed with bikes. Ronnie had to back into the lawn to fit his huge Silverado in, which immediately stood out. While Colt was entertained by a prospect who played basketball with him, Ronnie went inside with his fellow Angels to make the final vote for their prospect, Braxton Saffell, who was to be accepted into the club. After some final talks, everyone voted in agreement for Saffell to win his final patch. He was now a fully patched member of the Akron Hells Angels. Wildhog presented the death head patch, and Saffell happily doffed his cut to have it sewn on. Ronnie clapped and cheered with everyone.

"I got a gift for ya, Saffell." Ronnie announced. He put his arm around the young gray wolf with long wavy brown hair tied into a ponytail. Going outside, Ronnie presented the Scout Bobber to him, the wolf's face lighting up in shock at the perfect bike. It had been brought down off his Silverado by some prospects.

"Holy fuck, Ron!" Braxton exclaimed. "Oh my god!"

"She's a twenty-two Indian Scout Bobber. Has twenty thousand on the odometer. Completely customized."

"Wowwwww... how in the world did you afford this!?"

"Eh, just getting shot at." Ronnie laughed. "Well congrats, brother! You made it!"

Ronnie reached into his truck to grab the paperwork and go back inside to officially transfer the title to him. They signed the paperwork and partied with their other Angels. It was a joyous occasion to grow their ranks some more.

As Colt stood talking to Bluto, Wildhog, and Animal by the grill, Ronnie took a moment to talk to Saffell one-on-one. He put his arm around Braxton and they walked towards a more quiet corner to speak.

"You made it man, how do you feel?"

"Like a dream come true." The young gray wolf smiled. "Dude, this is just... crazy."

"And you did that yourself man. Be very proud because few men get the honor to call themselves Hells Angels." Ronnie pointed out with a grin. "But I want to tell you something important, something my Dad and my Grandpa instilled in me when I was patched in."

"Okay."

"I know what you're going through in your life right now. Your Dad died last year, and your Mom's struggling and you got two little brothers and a sister to help take care of."

"It's... been frustrating..." Braxton admitted.

"I know it's rough right now. But I want to tell you that it's gonna be okay, and to be strong. There's a lot of temptation in times like these to take the easy path to make money, but I want you to know that you have too much to lose doing stupid shit like some of these guys do."

"Like the drugs and shit like that?"

"Yes." Ronnie nodded, his face looking serious. "Those guys might make lots of money really quickly for themselves and the club, but think about what happens when they get busted. Think about the scrutiny you now have on your back because of your colors. Think about what you have to lose. You can play the short game and potentially fuck up, or you can play the long game like what I did with my band, to make money. And you have a lot of fantastic talents. You're great working on motorcycles, and you're the best welder around. So right now you have that shit job working at the bike place doing the grunt work, but keep at it, because you might get to work your way up, and hell, maybe one day start your own motorcycle shop. I don't want to see you go to prison for a rico."

"Prison ain't fun, I had a friend who's sitting behind bars."

"Just because you're a biker doesn't mean you have to do stupid shit." Ronnie reminded him. "My Grandpa and Dad were lifelong Hells Angels, and nothing. Nothing but some speeding tickets, and okay, a misdemeanor charge beating someone up who deserved it. Do something good with this. You've been handed a great responsibility."

Ronnie reached into his vest and pulled out an envelope, which he handed to Braxton. Braxton looked surprised as he accepted it from Ronnie, opened it, and found that it had a few thousand in cash for him.

"That's to help you out." Ronnie smiled.

Braxton gave Ronnie a tight hug. "I don't know how to thank you, Ron."

"Make us all proud, and don't fuck up." Ronnie smiled. "Having the feds shadow you sucks."

"That sounds like personal experience." Braxton teased, as Ronnie grinned and wagged a finger in response.

---

As the sun began to set, Ronnie and Colt prepared to head back home to Newark. Ronnie sat behind the wheel of his truck, getting his phone plugged in and GPS set to monitor traffic. Colt sat in the passenger seat, talking to Wildhog who leaned against the window sill.

"So lil' man, you had fun?" the aging black wolf asked with a big smile.

"Always!" Colt smiled. "You probably won't see me much after this, because I got school starting soon..."

"What grade, kiddo?"

"Second."

"Next thing you know, you're gonna be graduating!" Wildhog laughed.

"Scary." The young Dober laughed. "I just wanna be a kid."

"Enjoy it, 'cause time starts to fly when you get to be my age!"

"Well lil' man, you ready to go home?"

"Yep!" Colt smiled.

"Ron, you have a safe drive back." Wildhog pointed with a smile.

"Thanks Wildhog. Have a good one~"

"Bye!" Colt waved.

"Later lil' man~"

The other bikers waved as Ronnie took off, his truck bouncing off the curb as they departed down Howard Street. Ronnie made his way through Akron and hopped back onto I-77, to begin the drive back home.

"What a way to end summer, huh?" Ronnie smiled.

"Yeah." Colt smiled. "Back to school on Monday..."

"Oh enjoy it, 'cause one day you'll wake up and be thirty-two." Chuckled the dog. "Enjoy being a kid!"

"Okay, Dad!" Colt giggled.

Ronnie glanced over at him smiling. "At least you'll have a lot to say about your summer..."

"Police chases, being stalked by helicopters! FBI Agents falling out of trees!" Colt exclaimed.

"They're gonna think we're insane." Ronnie laughed.

"They can think what they want because I have the best Dad ever!"

"Damn straight!" Ronnie blurted out with a laugh. "And I have the best son in the world. The best anyone could ask for!"

Colt shrugged and smiled. "What can I say!"

An hour on I-77, Ronnie took the exit at Newcomerstown for Route 36. As he looped down the off ramp, he glanced over to see Colt asleep with his head resting on the glass. It brought a smile to his face. Merging onto Route 36, Ronnie resumed his speed on the cruise control as he leaned back in his seat and thought about all the events that had happened.

A year and a half ago, had someone told him that he'd live in Ohio, have a dream career, his band back, his family back, and be financially secure, Ronnie would have laughed and asked if they "fell and hit their head". But here he was, through all the insanity and chaos, financially secure with his dream career as a sound engineer and his band in the charts. He glanced over at his sleeping son and thought about all that, and his decision, on that cold, rainy Chicago night, when his apartment burned down, that they had nothing left to lose when they took that blind leap of fate into a stranger's plane to take them to their new lives. He also would have laughed if someone said he'd be mistaken for someone with a name so similar to his that the feds would waste millions of dollars investigating him. But through that despair, Ronnie got his financial security again and much, much more. He secured his son's financial future as well, as well as his boyfriend Talon. There were still things that were unknown, such as the pending lawsuit with the Licking County Sheriff's Office, but he figured that if he made it this far, then he could keep going.

The future that once seemed to dim and hopeless, seemed brighter to him. Ronnie thought about the road ahead as he drove west to head home, his truck disappearing into the glare of the setting sun.