Sandman's Awakening: Twisted Iron MC

by Liberty Parker

  Looking in their direction, Rogue looks at the women and what they’ve done as far as dressing them. “That works,” he tells them. “Bane?” he calls out into his earpiece.

  “Yes, sir,” Bane answers.

  “All clear in the front?”

  “All clear, Pres.”

  “Okay. We’ve got three targets unconscious in here and we’re ready to move. Two are women which should be easy. Might need some help with this big guy, though,” he informs Bane. “I’ll let you know, so stand by.”

  “You got it.”

  “Load up the girls,” he orders Phantom and Stone. “I might be an old man, but I think, I think between the four of us that we should be able to lift this big boy and carry him out to the van without help.”

  “You kidding me?” Fox chimes in, flexing his bicep before kissing it. “I could carry this piece of shit with my pinky.”

  “Goddammit, Fox! Time is not on our side here before he wakes back up and you wanna play fucking games? For what, to stroke your ego? Let’s get going and after this is all said and done maybe you can go find you a club whore to stroke your cock instead. Doesn’t that sound like more fun?” I lash out.

  “Fine, geez. I was only trying to lighten the mood some,” he huffs out. “But I could, just so we’re clear.”

  “Grab his right shoulder. Edge grab his left, and Pres and I will grab his feet.” I look up to Rogue to get the final okay and he nods.

  “Let’s do it,” Rogue orders. As we lift Bobby and begin to move him, Rogue grunts out, “You really do need to get fucking laid, Fox. Even I’m getting sick of your shit.”

  Aria

  “Remember way back in the day when Sandman first started bringing you around the clubhouse?” Outlaw leans the weight of her body onto her elbows over the top of the bar as she pours us each another round.

  Harlow, Outlaw and I cheer our drinks before tossing them down the hatch. “Yeah,” I answer her inquisitively, wondering just what exactly is about to fly from her big mouth.

  “Well, you know how you had to get stitches in your ass cheek and a tetanus shot because you supposedly fell down on a rusty nail?” She tilts her head to one side and raises a brow at me.

  I wanna answer ‘yes’ because I do in fact remember that, but it wasn’t because I fell and this bitch knows it somehow. What nerve Sandman has discussing our sex life with everyone around here. He swore that would go to the grave. “What do you mean supposedly?” I attempt to call her bluff.

  “Edge and I were walking the grounds outside and as we approached the shed where all the tools are kept, we thought we heard a scuffle happening inside. So, naturally, we peeked through the crease of the door. When we did that and saw you and Sandman getting it on, or just about to, I gasped a bit. Only because I knew it was happening, but you kept denying it. Anyway, when I made that sound, Edge immediately wrapped his hand around my mouth. When he did that, his elbow smacked the door and it made the sound that startled Sandman just as he set your naked ass on the workbench. He turned around, you screamed out and we ran, thinking we’d been caught. Of course, we found out later on that he never saw us considering he’s never mentioned it to this day; and that your scream was due to the rusty nail in your ass,” she finishes the last part off smugly.

  “Oh, honey. I may have gotten a rusty nail in my ass cheek, but at least I wasn’t getting nailed by Rusty Harrison in the ass,” I fire back and her eyes grow to the size of silver dollars as the horror shades her face a nice bright rosy color. Leaning in, I rest my own elbows on the bar. “Yeah, that’s right. ‘Ol dusty Rusty is what everyone used to call him. Your dirty little secret, or so you thought. Sandman and I caught you two behind the shed that you and Edge caught me and Sandman. At least we tried to hide and have some privacy.” Outlaw gasps so loud she covers her own mouth and I can almost taste how sweet this payback in particular is. “Tell me, how is he these days? Heard he still lives with his folks and finally graduated to cashier at Billy’s Mechanics from scrubbing the bathroom stalls after all these years.”

  “You little bitch,” flies from Outlaw’s mouth as she glares at me.

  “Back at’cha!” I hastily rebut.

  “Ladies, ladies,” Harlow intervenes, waving her hands in between the both of us. I lean back, removing my elbows from the countertop, creating some distance from Outlaw and myself. “Yes, sit your rusty ass down,” Harlow says to me before turning to Outlaw. “Or is it you?” Her snide remark is actually funny all things considered and I erupt in laughter before Outlaw quickly joins me, followed by Harlow and Talia in the background who’s watching baby Mel. “All I know after this conversation is the both of you have rusty asses, and that’s too much damn information I did not need or want to know.”

  “I second that,” Talia echoes from behind. “Glad you’re here, Harlow. I signed up to babysit a newborn tonight, not grown women.”

  “This is fucking disgusting and it’s only the first part of my punishment,” Shifter says walking out of the restroom most commonly used by the men holding a five-gallon bucket. “Pres is making me scrub the toilets and baseboards...with this.” He holds up a toothbrush so tiny in comparison to the bucket.

  “Could be worse, ya know? He could’ve made you use your own,” Talia tells him.

  A shudder visibly runs through his body. “It is,” he pouts.

  We all grimace and gag simultaneously. “Okay, well, at least he’s not making you use it after you’ve cleaned shitty toilets with it. Be grateful. This is one of my father’s kinder moments,” Outlaw informs him.

  “Oh fuck. What if that’s the second half of my punishment?” he whines out. “I’d rather take a beating.”

  “Don’t let any of them hear you say that. They’ll make you brush your teeth with that nasty thing on principle,” Harlow warns.

  Shifter grumbles under his breath as he walks away from us and into the next bathroom. Stretch and Shade, a few of the other prospects, have been left to keep an eye on us. They haven’t bothered us one bit. If I didn’t know better I wouldn’t even know they’re here. But one thing I can tell is that they’re serious about their job tonight. Neither one of them have even touched their phones, and every so often they make rounds scouting the perimeter from the inside; always keeping a close eye on the surveillance cameras too. Yeah, I do pay attention to the little things.

  9

  Sandman

  As we pull into the parking lot of the warehouse, I look behind us checking to see if the van Merc was driving has arrived also. I glance down every so often at our prisoners who are all still sound asleep. Myself, Fox, Edge, Phantom, Stone and Pres are all piled in, with Edge as our driver. I also visually scout our surroundings and notice Stitch has already made it here. As I do that, my eyes make contact with Edge in the rear-view mirror as he also looks behind us to make sure they’ve made it in the gate without any troubles.

  “Y’all know the drill,” Rogue begins. “We’ve only got one master chair and that seat is specifically reserved for our guest of honor.” My heart begins to beat rapidly inside my chest in anticipation. By master chair, Rogue’s referring to the electric chair he acquired from another club we have an alliance with; the Crossroad Soldiers. We’ve had it for a while now and it makes the perfect restraint system for anyone who owes us a debt or needs a good old-fashioned interrogation. “Take the women down to the pit and restrain them to one of the pipes.” The pit, also known as the boiler room where all the system functions and piping are located. “They’re tiny, but sometimes those tiny ones can be strong and feisty so make sure you cuff their asses to the piping. We’ll tend to them later. Stitch should already have everything setup inside as far as first aid and anything we might need to keep sleeping beauty here alive until we decide otherwise. Everyone copy?” he asks into the mic to be certain.

  “You got it, Pres,” Bane answers.

  Phantom and Stone push the back doors open and climb out before grabbing the ankles of each woman and
tossing them over a shoulder. As they’re busy carting the girls away, Rogue and myself climb out. Edge and Fox stay in so that they can lift and carry the top portion of Bobby. “You know,” I begin as Rogue and I start dragging him by his ankles, “I honestly wouldn’t mind it if his head got a few bumps and bruises against the bumper on his way out. I also wouldn’t mind if it hit the concrete and splattered altogether either; but that’d be too merciful for this piece of garbage.”

  Once we’ve successfully carried Bobby inside, Merc, Edge and myself restrain him in the master chair, literally from his forehead to his ankles. I go over each one, inspecting it personally making sure they’re nice and secure. Shadow has even designed a leather adjustable strap to gag individuals with. So, he won’t be saying anything intelligible unless one of us loosens or removes the strap. Unfortunately for us, this big bastard has slept through the entire process. Sometimes some of my fondest memories are watching the fear and uncertainty in one's eyes as we restrain them.

  Stitch ushers his way through as we’ve all crowded around, waiting. “I’m just gonna get some quick vitals to make sure he’s not already in some sort of physical distress that could cause a quick demise.” He looks at me specifically. “You don’t want this to be quick, correct?”

  “Not even a little,” I answer without hesitation, and he begins his assessment.

  Seems like each of us lights up a smoke as we wait. “It’s getting late. We haven’t heard from the prospects so I’m assuming everything’s fine with our women. They were instructed only to call if there was an emergency, but I still wanna check on Harmony and Mel,” Merc announces as he pulls out his phone, turns his back and puts some distance between us.

  As focused as I am on the project and fun I’m about to have that’s sitting in front of me, my mind wanders to Aria. I’m not there tonight to hold her in bed, so I hope she’s not lying there wide-eyed and worried; but I know her and I know she is.

  Merc’s loud, annoyed tone booms from behind us as he approaches, “Oh, boy. They’re shit-faced, absolutely wasted.” He scrubs his face, further displaying his frustration. “Harmony has two separate personalities when she’d drunk. One of those I’ll keep to myself out of respect for the both of us, and of course you, Pres.” He looks at Rogue out of his peripheral.

  “Please do,” Rogue expresses.

  “The other one is a complete feisty, and borderline combative one. That’s the current personality she’s embodying, and the one that likes to spar verbally as if she’s a brother. I get that she grew up only being surrounded by men, but sometimes that woman is a handful even for me. Talked to Stretch and he says aside from some light verbal trash talking, they’re otherwise fine,” Mercenary finishes.

  “Drinking?” Edge chimes in. “Talia’s pregnant. Surely she’s not?”

  “Are you kidding me? That was one of my first questions because my daughter is there. She can’t be left in the care of a bunch of inebriated women. And I sure as fuck don’t want just any prospect or inexperienced man looking after her. No need to stress, Edge. Talia’s looking after Mel and has everything under control; sober,” Merc assures him.

  Edge blows out a sigh of relief. “Thank fuck. I mean, I didn’t think she would drink knowing our child is growing inside her. But, we’re both new at this whole pregnancy and baby thing. Yeah, I don’t even know why I questioned that. Do me a favor, brothers, don’t tell her I did. The way her moods have been lately are obviously explainable now, but I’m doing my best to stay off the receiving end of them.”

  Merc chuckles. “You’re in for such a fun ride, brother.” He pats Edge on the back and Edge returns him a look that lies somewhere between terror and contemplation as those words sink in.

  “He’s no worse for the wear other than a few bumps and bruises here and there. Although I have to say, his permanent smile has helped brighten up my day,” Stitches interjects through a chuckle, alerting us back to the current task at hand.

  “That’s a gift from Pres to Bobby.” I smile at the memory of the event.

  “He’s made a joker out of the fool,” Fox states as he lights up a joint. Taking a puff, the plume of smoke that leaves his mouth goes right into Bobby’s face, causing him to stir some.

  “Don’t get him high, motherfucker.” I glare at Fox. “I want him to feel, fear and anticipate my actions. I want him pissing himself, worrying over what I’m going to do next.”

  Fox mock salutes me, taking his rolled green with him as he heads over to the tool chest to see what Merc’s pulling out. With Mercenary being the Sergeant at Arms, his job is to protect the club as a whole, and he gets his hands dirty, a lot. He has a bunch of play toys that I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on and learning to use. “Wake up, motherfucker!” I kick his bare foot with my steel-toed boots and get a muffled howl out of him due to the leather strap constricting his ability to openly vocalize. “That’s right, it’s playtime.” My look must appear demonic, his eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Long enough to let me know that he’s not as tough as he was previously acting and I’m sick of him pretending to be. It’s time to take this up a level. Deciding it’s best to let him sit and wake fully, I step back, keeping my gaze lasered on him. He notices and begins to squirm in his seat only to realize that, too, is a problem. “Aww, poor fucking Bobby,” I say, feigning sympathy. “Is something holding you back?” I ask rhetorically. Leaning in close to this motherfucker, I want him to feel the heat of my breath as I speak. I want each word imbedded into his memory as sheer terror begins to take hold. “Just think of these restraints holding you in place as the fear you once used to paralyze my woman, my Aria.”

  Pulling my smokes and lighter from my pocket, I spark one up before walking over to our supply cabinet and pulling out a pair of latex gloves. Whereas I’d love nothing more than to feel his blood coating the underneath of my fingernails, my need to stay protected wins over. Common sense is a real bitch when vengeance is running deep through your veins. I slowly pick up the tools Merc has laid out and the excitement in Fox’s eyes reminds me of a young child on Christmas morning. I hear more muffled screaming behind me and when my eyes connect with Merc’s, he nods his head confirming the thoughts running through my own; that it is our guest of honor who’s now fully coherent and is taking in his current predicament. Fox’s giddiness must be contagious, because suddenly, I feel like all that I’ve been dreaming of doing to Bobby is in front of me and coming to fruition. I’m enthralled with the thoughts of how I’m going to make him scream and beg for his life.

  “I know everyone’s excited about their turn, but remember, it’s just that; one turn. Make it count, but we want to keep this fucker alive long enough for Sandman here to finish the job off,” Rogue announces. “Choose wisely, but not lethal, and do not forget about the little zoo we maintain in the old office here.”

  Ah, yes, the zoo as we call it. The place where all the animals and creepy crawlers are kept and maintained mostly by Stone.

  “Uh, Pres,” I interrupt.

  Rogue turns to me. “Yes.”

  “If possible, I’d rather everyone keep away from the zoo. That’s something that I alone would like to handle if you know what I mean?”

  Rogue leans into me. “You saying you don’t wanna finish him off tonight?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. This goes back to high school, Pres. I’d really like to take my time with him,” I answer.

  He gives me a look of understanding as he nods. “That’s a long time to have held in such anger. Take all the time you need.” By now my brothers are all listening in as I can see and sense them out of my peripheral. “Until Sandman’s done, this little party in here will remain a secret among brothers. Surely I don’t need to explain what that means, but just in case, no old ladies need any information or an inkling of where Sandman may or may not be. We communicate amongst ourselves. Remember, this is also for their protection.”

  “Got it,” Merc answers.

  “10-
4,” Fox replies, and the others express themselves also.

  “Not trying to take the fun out of this for anyone, it’s just extremely personal for me,” I express, smashing the cigarette underneath my boot on the concrete floor. I know those words don’t need to be said to most of my brothers, especially the ones with old ladies. They all know what it’s like to be in my position.

  “May I?” Merc asks, holding up the nail gun. “Mine is short and sweet, unlike me. But I’m ready to see some red coat this floor.”

  “Let the games begin,” I declare. My brothers all walk over to the box of latex gloves and I wait impatiently, nervous energy lacing through me as I bounce on the balls of my feet in excitement, as they all get on their own individual pairs.

  As Mercenary approaches Bobby, he begins to squeal and squirm with nowhere to go; nobody to hear him and I can feel the tug at the corner of my lips as they begin to curl into a grin. “Now, don’t tell me you’re afraid of getting nailed?” he taunts. “Isn’t this what you love to do to innocent women? What or who do you think you are? A God? Well, you’re about to get crucified. Only this is for your sins,” he finishes saying as he grabs and firmly holds Bobby’s right hand in place. His wrists are restrained, but Merc’s trying to center the nail gun directly on the top of his hand. As he squeezes the trigger, it echoes throughout the warehouse and Bobby’s eyes grow as wide as silver dollars as they pool with tears. Again, his cry of agony is restricted, but he tries nonetheless. Merc moves to the next hand and does the same as we all stand around watching and taunting as the small stream of blood trickles down and around each of his hands. “There, now anytime you move those monsters of yours, accidental or otherwise, you’ll be reminded of how they were used to hurt others.”

  He fist bumps me before setting the nail gun back down. “My turn!” Fox excitedly bellows out with a scalpel in hand. He begins his proclamation as he approaches Bobby; the joint hanging between his lips. “I’m sure you can already guess why they call me Fox, huh?” he continues never giving Bobby a chance to answer. “Obviously it’s because of my dashing good looks and ability to attract all the ladies. Now, in nature, in the wild, foxes burrow; they dig.” He bends his knees and lowers himself into a squatting position. “They’re also known to be very smart, which I sometimes get little credit for around here.” He turns his face and looks at each of us as we mock coughing and throat-clearing sounds behind him. We love to give him so much shit, but in all honesty, he really is as clever as a fox at times. “Anyway, that’s something you will be taking to the grave with you, so I don’t mind sharing. Today, I will be doing some digging...into your flesh that is. You’re also a predator, but not like a fox. You’re a fucking coward and I personally think you should wear that word branded onto your skin as it rots and decays away.” Bobby begins to squirm again and is clearly wracked with the agony in his hands as he’s reminded. Fox digs the sharp point of the scalpel into the center of his chest and digs in; deep enough for me to see the pooling and drips of the crimson-colored liquid flow down his abdomen. Between each new letter being carved and the pain he must be feeling in his hands, tears begin to slide down Bobby’s cheeks. The fucker was already drenched in sweat and I’m sure some of it was from attempting to hold those salty drops in. Fox doesn’t take too long, but does manage to inscribe the word ‘coward’ nice and legible on Bobby’s torso. “Wear that to hell, they’re waiting for you.”