“Did someone give you dumb fucks the impression that the Green Zone was public property?”
“I said, who the fuck are you? Don’t make me ask again.”
I smiled at the kid. I would’ve admired his bravado if he had anything other than size to back it up. “I guess you didn’t hear my question.”
“I don’t give a fuck who you are, old man. This is my MC and my clubhouse.”
The big fucker marched over to me, towering damn near a head over me, breathing hard enough to let me know he was big but not fit. “Get the fuck out.”
I stared at him for a long moment and struck him in the throat, hard enough to bring him to his knees in a coughing fit but not enough to kill him. Yet.
I roared, “I said, did someone give you the impression that the Green Zone was public fucking property?”
My words echoed around the walls of the mostly empty warehouse.
A smaller biker with short blond hair ran toward me, yelling at the top of his fucking lungs, at least until a hit to the jaw shut him up. The kid was scrappy, though, and he didn’t go down easy, matching me hit for hit for a few minutes.
“Old man can box,” he laughed and ducked to avoid being hit.
“Not bad. Too bad it won’t last.” I took a step forward and hit him with three jabs square in the nose until I heard the barely perceptible crack that told me I’d hit my mark.
“Son of a bitch,” he howled in pain as blood rushed from his nose. He took a few steps back as I advanced.
“Fuck this.” Like young punks often do, the asshole pulled a gun on me and smiled. “Not so tough now, are you?”
I shrugged. “Still tough, but not stupid.” I saw the look in his eyes and knew the kid wouldn’t pull the trigger.
He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, the mark of an uncertain killer. His grip shifted slightly on the gun, and a shot rang out before he could squeeze the trigger, sending him down on one knee, crying like a fucking baby. “You fucking shot me.”
This disbelief in his voice told me these guys weren’t a real threat, they were fucking amateurs. Unfortunately for them, they were amateurs who’d made a fatal mistake.
“I just beat you to the punch,” I told him and came closer, grabbing a handful of hair as I leaned over him. “Don’t ever aim a gun you don’t intend to shoot. And if I see you in the Green Zone again or hear you’ve been terrorizing my people or my businesses, the next bullet goes right here.” I dug my index finger into the center of his forehead, the spot right between his eyebrows. “Got it?”
I looked around, satisfied to see all five of them nodding with fear in their eyes because they knew how easily I could’ve killed them today.
Another guy came forward with all the Psycho shit on his arms and neck. “We are The Psychos, and we do what the fuck we want,” he growled at me, eyes flashing with fear when Terry blocked his path.
“Then I guess what you want right now is to get the fuck out.”
Terry pulled his meaty fist back and let it snap right in the middle of his face, sending his neck flying back at an awkward angle.
“Mission accomplished, dipshit.” Terry laughed like the crazed fucker he was when it came to a fight. “Who the fuck taught these assholes how to fight?”
Three more chairs scraped against the cement floor, and my eyes lit with excitement at what was coming. “Us,” I answered easily and tightened my fists as the rest of The Psychos ran at us.
The young shits put up a good fight, but me and Terry had size, anger, and skill on our side. Fists flew, hard and fast, and I ended up dodging a knife a few times; one small slit sent a trickle of blood down my arm.
Terry and I were a little bruised, but The Psychos were laid out, bruised and bloody with a few broken bones. They would live to regret coming into the Green Zone.
“If I have to tell you again, none of you will come out alive.”
I didn’t wait for confirmation because I knew they understood. Violence was the only language they understood. I left, feeling like at least one fucking thing had been accomplished today.
“This isn’t over, motherfucker!”
Terry and I froze at the voice and slowly turned around.
“I guess they don’t like the easy way,” Terry growled.
“Guess not,” I agreed.
Terry looked at me with a gleam in his eyes. “Bet I can pick off more than you and faster.”
I smiled. “Think so?”
“Willing to bet haggis and whiskey on it.”
“Bet.”
Without another word, me and Terry glanced around before we went back inside, aiming at every moving body and shooting until they stopped moving. Less than a minute later, we walked back out, The Psychos nothing but a memory.