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Clark Heath

"You can't quit until you try. I'll always keep fighting until I've breathed my last breath."

0 · 197 views · located in Eureka, Nevada

a character in “The Sons: Vice & Virtue”, as played by AppleSauce

Groups

SAMCRO is an outlaw motorcycle club and organized crime syndicate.

Description

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    | Full Name |
    Clark Heath

    | Age |
    41

    | Club Position |
    President

    | Bike |
    Harley Davidson 48

    | Sexuality |
    Heterosexual



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| Ink/Scars |
A few on his arms, mixture of different things to represent important events in his life. Few scars here and there, naturally; none on his face, mainly on his arms, legs and stomach area. The SAMCRO logo/symbol is tattooed on his back.

| Height |
1.78 m

| Build |
Average build, doesn't look extremely muscular nor extremely skinny, he is built though, toned, muscular, takes care of himself and body. Has fairly sharp, strong facial features. Usually seen wearing a mixture of clothes depending on what he's doing and the weather. Sometimes will wear loose, long sleeved linen shirts to almost formal clothing. When with the gang it's mainly leather clothing, protective clothing ready for whenever he might need to use his bike.

| Hair |
Deep, chocolate brown hair. Clark's thick hair grows really fast so although he tends to prefer if short, it gets long very fast. His hairstyle is a purposely messy sort of style. If he's concentrating on something important and his hair is long he will tie it back. Always seen with facial hair, short beard, moustache etc.

| Eyes |
Sly, slightly narrow brown eyes, looks as though he's always judging you, or perving on you. Or can even be mistaken for being a "I'm disappointed in you" look.



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| Personality |
If an old friend met Clark how he is now, they'd think they're speaking to a completely different man. Clark was once a composed, calm, business man who could win over any deal with a charming smile. They'd never expect him to be able to commit murder. When in fact, he's willing to back stab someone if it will help his gang and the people part of it. He's all about loyalty and trust and isn't the type to ever back stab one of his own mates. He's pretty hands on when it comes to getting things done, he'll put himself and 100% into anything to make it work. Never gives up, even if his situation looks quite dismal and hopeless, he'll fight to the very last breath. Clark's the type of person you might catch staying up all night because he can't figure out a way around a problem. Whenever he's troubled or in a bit of a mess, he won't sleep until its fixed or until he knows how to fix it. Clark is the problem solver, he doesn't just fix his own problems but the problems of others too. He can be quite materialistic and unintentionally selfish when he's stressed out. Although many of his crew come to him when they might be troubled or have found trouble, if one has constantly disappointed him, he'll be sure to punish them. His random outbursts are quite alarming and only usually happen when he's lost his patience with someone incompetent. His outbursts aren't just emotional and yelling but physical too. Sometimes he regrets harming someone depending on his relationship with them, other times he'd do it again, and again if he wanted to. His actions and words all depend on the situation. When Clark first meets someone and see's someone interested in helping the gang, he is all charming smiles, hands on pat on the back, hand shakes and all. But at the same time those smiles fade after the greetings and he makes it clear that if they double-cross him, he'll be sure to make them pay for it in blood.

Whenever Clark might be seen angry it's not just plain out annoyance, but rage. He's the type to throw things around, break, punch, kick, push things around to express his anger. So you don't want to be around when he's mad. It might take a few of his close men to stop him from beating someone to death if they're the cause of his anger. Usually he keeps his emotions in control, even if he is annoyed he tries to show his gang that he's thinking straight and knows what he's doing, putting any emotions aside and not letting it interfere with his decisions.

Clark can be quite the emotional type but does his best to hide this. Whenever he's sad it's usually from being frustrated, stressed and stuck; when he feels like he's not getting anywhere or letting his gang down. He can also get quite upset when people close to him are disappointed in him or if a majority of his gang might disagree with his actions and decisions, it can be quite pressuring but it is useful and only helps Clark grow into an even better President of SAMCRO.
Clark certainly enjoys the pleasures life has to offer; the sex, alcohol, cigarettes, he loves it all. Especially sex. Clark is pretty active in the bedroom, he wants to enjoy every inch, second, day of life and not restrict himself from having fun with the ideas of certain things being illegal. What ever makes him happy, he'll do it. Clark would be serious however, if he ever fell in love, which would be a rare sight, he doesn't like the idea of commitment, not yet anyway, too much to risk and lose if he felt serious about someone. Clark dislikes the idea of people being able to use something or someone against him.

In conclusion, Clark used to be a goody goody, civil business man. Now he's thrown all of that out the window and spilling blood is the norm to him. Of course, always brains before bullets however sometimes when things aren't going right and being a bit blinded by frustration and anger, bullets may come before brains. The Sons help with stopping any stupid decisions being made though, the voting and majority rules system is very helpful for realising whether or not his decisions and ideas are actually all that good. He's very confident in his ideas though and decisions and can be a bit argumentative and stubborn when someone disagrees. You really need to convince him why his idea isn't good enough or why someone else's is better.

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| History |

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Clark didn't have the kind of childhood one might think. Although his dad was the President of the gang, he was always supportive of what ever path Clark decided to take in life. Naturally his father wanted him to one day take over but Clark had different plans. Although his father was disappointed, he still supported the more civil path Clark had chosen. He had been against the way his father worked and what he did as it meant as a child he rarely saw him and was left with his mum alone for days. Sure he'd see him sometimes but it was rare to at least have him home for dinner. So he grew up with great grades, worked hard and became a highly paid business man. However, one day another employee was envious of how successful Clark was as Clark was a bit of a favourite around the business and his boss trust him with everything. And so he framed Clark of stealing from the business and much more. And no one believed Clark when he pleaded innocent. He had worked so hard, brought so much to the company and they all let him down, threw him aside, and he thought he could trust them to have his back but they didn't. He was angry and when he found out who did it and that they were going to press charges against Clark for the incident, he killed the guy. He had no evidence to prove that the guy had framed him, he was a clever bastard and with that done, he moved back to town where his father lived and had been part of the gang since his mid 20s. When his father died from a deal gone wrong with a rival gang, more or less they were ambushed. Clark took over his father's place and became the President of the club.

The Sergeant - At - Arms or Hugh (Reaper) is a childhood friend of Clark's. Their father's were close mates and they went to school together. However they drifted apart when Clark chose the business path and Hugh followed his father's footsteps with the gang. When Clark finally came around they were close again, both on the same page and passionate about the same thing. Clark was sick of being screwed around and of people screwing others around, he protects his community, and destroys those who cross him. Brains before Bullets though, always. You could say Clark is a bit jaded now however due to his experience as a business man, he's very smart and knows how to manage the club quite well, he's persuasive and doesn't make rash decisions.

Clark has a bit of a soft spot for Stevie (Babydoll). He was good mates with her father who had tragically been murdered by a rivalry gang just like his own father. Stevie's father had made him god father of his child, Stevie which was a great honour to Clark and he promised he would protect her. Stevie's father was always a valuable member of the gang and never let Clark down.


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So begins...

Clark Heath's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ryker Dowell Character Portrait: Levi 'SchoolBoy' Janowitz Character Portrait: Stevie "Babydoll" Cordova Character Portrait: Angela Quiรฑones Character Portrait: Vendetta Character Portrait: Hugh O'Hogan Character Portrait: Clark Heath Character Portrait: Samantha Montgomery
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๏ผถ๏ผฉ๏ผฃ๏ผฅ ๏ผฐ๏ผฒ๏ผฅ๏ผณ๏ผฉ๏ผค๏ผฅ๏ผฎ๏ผด โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ Image
A lone biker roared down highway 50, the quaint town of Eureka to his right. It's twinkling lights could hardly be seen enveloped by the black of the Nevada night. It was a night so thick it hung in the pine trees, slept in the needles. A sky so murderous, so dark it sprawled its legs into his head space, taking up room, sharing his thoughts. He loved rides bathed in the warmth of sunlight, his skin washed clean of sins by the brightness of the day. Night drives were less cleansing, the only light that of the stars which were cold and distant...

A few miles ahead rested 'the chapel', an old bar renovated to serve as a club house for his charter. And with it, the winds carried that familiar scent of damp tarmac and cigarette smoke; the sound of choked raucous laughter from his biker clan dancing on the breeze. He rode in unceremoniously, his cycle's headlight illuminating the edges of the gathering. Empty bottles of beer and whiskey clinked loudly as they rolled between revelers feet across the pavement. The entire scene had the riotous, unruly frenzy of an eighteenth-century pirate bacchanal, but what else could one expect from a Sons of Anarchy affair?

The biker parked his chopped triumph with an eerie little silver wide-open eye sticker on the fender off to the side and dismounted. His leather jacket and cut concealed the tattoos creeping down the back of his neck, clinging to each knob on his spine, knifing over his shoulders. He was in dire need of a shave and walked with a hitch due to the small blade curved like the claw of a raptor always hidden in the lining of his boot. He shouldered people out of his way as he plodded into the bar, past the hookers in heels and the men who watched them like hungry wolves, single minded in his approach.

Inside, Good Day to Die blared from a stereo resting on a shelf of alcohol behind the bar, the half empty bottles burning with an amber glow underneath the lights. Scantily clad girls danced atop the pool tables and on a stripper pole installed on a small, one person platform shoehorned into the loneliest corner. Couples of two and sometimes three occupied the couches, draped over each other, looking like a jigsaw in a tumble dryer. It was impossible to tell amidst the tangle of limbs if they were actually engaged in sex or not, but it wouldn't have surprised the new arrival if some of them were, that was per the norm for SAMCRO. They weren't shy about the when or where.

He found an empty stool and tapped the sticky counter top once, signaling to the current tender that he needed a drink, his usual, a Johnnie Walker. He'd of much rather been sleeping off the night's previous hangover, but attending these events was his duty as V.P. Not that he didn't enjoy a good drunken bash, but he had other things on his mind...It was then that he heard the raspy, low 'hey' of one of his brothers, one of his best friends. Vendetta. He wheeled around on his stool, elbows propping themselves against the bar, smirk hanging loosely off his lips. "Hey yourself, roughneck. How goes it?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ryker Dowell Character Portrait: Levi 'SchoolBoy' Janowitz Character Portrait: Stevie "Babydoll" Cordova Character Portrait: Angela Quiรฑones Character Portrait: Vendetta Character Portrait: Hugh O'Hogan Character Portrait: Clark Heath Character Portrait: Samantha Montgomery
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Brooding. That was what everyone says he does. Some people even think he practices brooding he does it so well. Levi just looked like that. He always wore a look of disinterest, this look had kept him from being beaten by his mother's many 'boyfriends', if he acted like he saw nothing, cared about nothing, then they wouldn't notice him. Now, however, it was just his face, or atleast a mask he wore. He wore it now, as he walked into the chapel. A mask of disinterest. He wasn't going to look like the other prospect, all too eager to please, as if they'd never seen a naked woman dance before, as if they never tasted the shit beer they served, like they never did anything of any particular interest until walking in to the chapel. Image
Levi's eyes wandered to the pretty brunette as she did some interesting looking gymnastics on the pole. Honestly, it stopped his walk as he watched her move, a single dark brow raised, in slight amusement, his head cocked ever so slightly. This was party, something they had nearly everyday of the week, for one reason or no other, and while he was a prospect, a nothing nobody, he still had to attend. Why he was even here, he could honestly say he didn't have a clue. Well he did, but it was still odd, for him at least. Why would this, 'Learned' man, be here, with this lot, a bunch of low lives, with nothing better to do, then fuck, fight and repeat? It wasn't like that, not entirely anyway. By the end of the night there would be at least six fights, three of them involving a girl, and two including a girl, and he didn't even want to think about how many girls would have their virtues -using the term loosely- compromised this night.

He would not partake in the latter. The former....there was a good chance and that was the answer to the question. He fit here as hard as it was to believe, with his pretty face, unmarked skin, neatly trimmed beard and mustache, handsome smile, long curly hair, athletic build and brilliant mind. He looked like he could walk out of photo shoot for GQ and had a higher IQ then the collection of the people in room combined...but, they were family. It was in his blood. He was sure his father was one, if he cared to ask and he didn't, his grandfather was one, and he would be one too.

One day, for now, he was just a prospect, he didn't even have his cut yet, but he dressed the part....though it looked differently on him then it did the others. Everyone else looked like bikers, he looked like a model, posing as a biker, as the brothers always liked to point out. It was funny, in a way. Here, he looked like a model, but out there, with the legit folks, the spoon fed 'Other half' that he'd went to school with, they thought he looked like a hick, or at least that's what they said anyway. The girls didn't seem to think so, but that was his problem. It didn't help that he was actually a decent guy, chivalrous in a way that most girls didn't even believe existed. That landed him in too many fights to the point that he had to drop out, just because he couldn't afford to keep missing classes, assignments, days and even then, they didn't trust him. They believed him to be the biker that was in his blood, violent and untrustworthy. He just couldn't do both, he couldn't be both. So he made a choice.

Be the Bookworm with the Bikers, or be the Biker with the Bookworms.

This way, at least he was with family....sort of.

"Enjoy the show, sugar?" Asked the brunette. Levi hadn't even realized she'd finished, left the stage, some other girl was there now, and she was dressed and standing beside him. "Oh, yes, you were lovely." He said quickly. He was shit with girls, always was, but they seemed to find it charming in a way that just confused him even further.
"Lovely?" She asked, she was a pretty latina, he noted, and didn't need nearly as much makeup as she wore. Levi gave a quick smirk that was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
"Yes...?"
"Not, Hot, or Sexy, or Come on Baby, let me take you home?" She said, nodding her head side to side, mockingly.
"'Lovely'?"She asked and Levi swallowed. He really didn't know what she wanted him to say. He didn't know if he had offended her or not, so he just ran his hand through his dark curls, confused and wishing he had said something else, or at the very least, had been paying attention.Image
"Easy, papi, I'm just messin'." She said mercifully and Levi chuckled sheepishly."You new, huh? Nobody around here uses words like lovely." She said and he chuckled again. " I suppose it is that obvious huh?" He said and then he then, reached in his pocket, fumbling for some cash to give her. He thought it only right, despite how he was only half watching. she smiled, stopping him with a hand on his forearm. "You're cute, Don't let them hurt that pretty face of yours, Alright Papi?"She said, walking off with a swagger that made him want to shiver. "I didn't get your name!" He called, and she turned her head his direction with a chuckle, but that was it, she was out the door without another word.

He was really useless when it came to women, he really was.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ryker Dowell Character Portrait: Levi 'SchoolBoy' Janowitz Character Portrait: Stevie "Babydoll" Cordova Character Portrait: Angela Quiรฑones Character Portrait: Vendetta Character Portrait: Hugh O'Hogan Character Portrait: Clark Heath Character Portrait: Samantha Montgomery
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"I find your lack of ink disturbing."
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The first Sons of Anarchy party Angela had ever been to, she remembered thinking it wasn't a party. It looked more like the apocalypse had hit -- a celebration of the last night on Earth, everyone throwing all of society's standards of morality and goodness out the window for carnal instinct to take over. It made Angela who had never considered herself traditional or prude by any stretch of the imagination, gawk. The whole truth of what they were about had been laid out before her, this is who we are, this is what we do. You either had what it took to hack it or you got the fuck out.

Well, you could guess what her choice had been - at present sitting in a corner of the chapel with her rotary machine and inks scattered among a table full of beer bottles as she tattooed a young woman's ass bent over in front of her. She had joined the church of debauchery and become the official scribe, everyone's skin a manuscript that she wrote their sins, desires, and creeds on.

The girl was wearing a lacy black thong, her shorts pulled down just below her butt where Angela was tattooing a pair of red lips on her left cheek. One of the bikers in cut slapped the other cheek Angela was not working on, startling the girl. Angela pulled back her needle quickly and sat up. "Ayayaye! Don't move!" she scolded crankily then scowled at the biker, "And YOU get away from her until I'm done! Psst! Go!" she snapped at him like she was shooing some feral cat away.

The biker grinned, "Sorry." The girl giggled and rested her elbows back on the table with her head in her hands. She made eyes with the biker who had scampered off to the bar and watched safely from a distance for Angela to finish her handy work.

Angela shook her head before re-positioning herself again and continued with amazing concentration despite all the ruckus going on around her. Once she was done, she gave the young woman a pat on the thigh. "There you go, all done." The girl curved her back to look, then smiled. "Thanks Angel, looks great!" The biker who had come by earlier came back over as she pulled up her shorts -- an unnecessary move Angela thought. "Go easy on the ink. No riding hard -- I don't want to have to re-tattoo that, eh?" Angela half-smirked at the two of them.

She turned off her machine and set down her needle on a metal tray crowded among the bottles, then propped her boots up on another chair. She took a half empty bottle of beer she was not quite sure was hers off the table and watched the depraved revelry around her as if she was kicked back on the beach watching a peaceful sunset.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ryker Dowell Character Portrait: Levi"SchoolBoy" Janowitz Character Portrait: Levi 'SchoolBoy' Janowitz Character Portrait: Stevie "Babydoll" Cordova Character Portrait: Angela Quiรฑones Character Portrait: Vendetta Character Portrait: Hugh O'Hogan Character Portrait: Clark Heath Character Portrait: Samantha Montgomery
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Stevie had officially been clean off drugs for three months. Keyword, had. Three months was the longest she'd been clean since her addiction had started. She'd spent the entirety of the day at her childhood home, cleaning up after her worthless mother, who spent the better part of her day passed out on the couch. She'd then proceed to wake up to a clean house only to accuse her own daughter of stealing money, she'd forgotten she'd used for drugs. Stevie still wasn't quite sure why she wasted her time trying to help her mother, who told her every time she saw her how she hated her and she'd ruined her life.

It took a toll on the young blonde, she'd gone to the bar and gone upstairs to her small apartment above the bar to get ready for her shift. She'd catch herself itching her skin, because just under the surface she felt that nagging need to take the pain away the best way she knew how. no one could make her feel lower than her mother, she knew she shouldn't care what she had to say, but she did. She always felt like she needed approval, the approval her father and brother use to give her. She couldn't stop the pain, it just kept growing and the loneliness was closing in around her. Until, she finally dialed the number of her dealer.

She felt guilty the moment she hung up the phone, but she needed a hit to get her through her shift. SAMCRO was having yet another one of their notorious parties. She enjoyed them and it was unfortunate she'd be working during this one, but she was also grateful that her mind and body would be preoccupied with something a bit productive.

By the time she got dressed; tight red leather crop top, skin hugging black shorts that let her ass hang out, and her expensive black high heel boots. Her body was craving drugs. Her long blonde hair was curled and pulled into a high ponytail, the right amount of skin and cleavage showing in all the right places. She slipped down the stairs careful to stay out of sight, before her shift. Her eyes did a quick scan of the bar and she spotted Ryker walking into the bar, looking as rough and handsome as ever as he made his way to the bar making her smirk. Other then that though, she didn't take time to try and look for anyone else as she disappeared out the back door.

Behind the bar, it was dark and probably not where a girl that looked like her, should be hanging out alone. She lend against the wall lighting herself a cigarette as she waited for her dealer. She spotted him, a wicked smirk on her red painted lips. He was covered in tattoos and he couldn't be any older then twenty-three. He was a punk ass, who Baby only did business with, because he had absolutely no connection with SAMCRO, so there was no chance of them finding out about her dirty little secret.

"You look good shorty." he said with a smirk stopping a little to close for Stevie's comfort but she ignored his closeness as she pulled a few hundred dollar bills from her bra and handed them to him, in return he passed her a small baggie full of coke. "You wanna ditch this party baby girl and I'll take you back to my place?" he insisted

She took a step back and he took one forward, until he had her back against the wall. She tried to ignore him as she dipped her finger into the bag of coke, before rubbing it on her gums, trying to get instant gratification. She hadn't been paying attention and so she was taken by surprise when he forcibly pinned her against the wall causing her cigarette and the bag of coke to fall to the pavement below. "I'm talking to you." he spat grabbing her jaw and forcing her to look at him, before kissing her roughly and she shoved him away.

"Fuck off Danny." she spat which only seemed to piss him off and he reacted by slapping her hard across the face and backing her into the wall once again. He wrapped one hand around her throat while his other hand started to undo her shorts.

More then anything she didnt want to cause a seen. She just wanted to feel numb. She'd slept with Danny once or twice before and he made her feel exactly what she wanted numb. Maybe thats why she wasnt fighting all the hard because she figured on some sick twisted way, maybe she deserved it.
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Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ryker Dowell Character Portrait: Levi"SchoolBoy" Janowitz Character Portrait: Levi 'SchoolBoy' Janowitz Character Portrait: Stevie "Babydoll" Cordova Character Portrait: Angela Quiรฑones Character Portrait: Vendetta Character Portrait: Hugh O'Hogan Character Portrait: Clark Heath Character Portrait: Samantha Montgomery
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Hugh was first of many to get to Samcro. He wasn't one for showing up to these sorts of things, 'Parties', but he always felt he had to at least be there. The most simple way to ignore everyone and everything was either to sleep or fake it. Normally he faked it, like now, he'd sit in the corner of the room, the darkest spot in the whole place and close his eyes with his back straight up against the wall, hands on his knees and frame kept still. He'd almost look like he stepped out of the arm from the way he'd always sit like that. It was also his way of listing to his surroundings. If something were to happen, he'd hear it and be there no problem. When it came 'Parties' like these, he always found himself looking after the girls and the President.

When he heard Ryker's voice, he'd got up from his spot. Making his way through a crowd. One of which didn't seem too fond of that. The guy had no patches or marks that were visible. He was almost average looking apart from his right arm that were covered in burn marks, probably where his tattoo was once. All Hugh could assume was he was kicked out of a Biker Club, but what was he doing here? He was light skinned so it was a bit hard to tell what Crew he had come from.

Hugh was about to shake it off until the guy stopped him from walking off. "Hey you! Don't walk away after bumping into someone." The guy said as he winked at the hooker he was rubbing up against, showing off. He turned his attention back at Hugh with a smirk, but Hugh showed no reaction to any of this, he almost seemed bored, maybe. "Hey dude, are you listening!" A few people around them became quiet as the guy smacked his beer bottle against Hugh's Patches, causing a splash of beer to spill on his leather vest. "Ohh a Serg, huh? I can't see it." He started to burst out in laughter, taking a huge swig of his leftover beer.

The hooker he was with had quickly left and came back with a rag to wipe it off of Hugh's jacket. He let her do so with a nod of thanks and she smiled with a slight blush. But this only seemed to get the guy even more mad. "Hey pal! That's my whore! Don't just go taking other people's things, just because you got your patches out of a cereal box."

He ignored this man's bickering as he checked out his patches to make sure they didn't get stained up. Now everything was fine until this guy had reached over, shoving Hugh back, or tried to. Hugh was a man who stood at the height of 6'3 feet and weighed about 185 pounds, you try pushing that.

The guy who did was acting all badass until he realized it had no effect, it barely even did anything. It also didn't help when Hugh started to stare at him like he was about to witness his own death. "Ah look, man,...f-forget it. I think I had too much to drink." He gave his beer to the hooker and quickly left.

"Listen, thanks. I was about to ask for help. The guy was being too clingy and wouldn't let go." She tucked her fiery orange hair behind her ear and bit her lip, turning her chest into Hugh's direction. "Listen, if you every need anything, don't hesitate to ask me. My name's Ruby Rose." She placed her hand on his chest, sliding her pale fingers down to his belt. And with seconds later, her body was nearly glued onto his.

As much as he wouldn't mind what was about to happen next, he had other things to do. "Perhaps another time." She blushed and nodded as he patted her hand and left towards Ryker.

"Pardons Sir, have you seen Prez?" He nodded to Vendetta in a 'Hello' way almost, but also in an 'Excuse my interruption'.

"Want anything Serg?" The bartender asked.

"Nรญ hea" 'No', he spoke in his Irish tongue out of habit.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ryker Dowell Character Portrait: Levi"SchoolBoy" Janowitz Character Portrait: Levi 'SchoolBoy' Janowitz Character Portrait: Stevie "Babydoll" Cordova Character Portrait: Angela Quiรฑones Character Portrait: Vendetta Character Portrait: Hugh O'Hogan Character Portrait: Clark Heath Character Portrait: Samantha Montgomery
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She started her day off the same way, sitting on the side of her bed, just thinking about some things. She often thought about her brother, Stephen and how her life would be if he was still alive. She wept silently to herself every single time her brother crossed her mind as she loved him dearly and deeply with all of her heart and was very much sad when he was taken away from her with an instant. She'll never forget that phone call she had gotten. Sam sniffled and wiped away her tears while getting up from the bed and walking over towards her bathroom, turning on the faucet. She cuffed her hands together then placed them underneath the running water, splashing some of it in her face then looking up into the mirror before her.

Sam shook her head with a sigh then turned the faucet off, reaching for a towel nearby and dabbed her face off. She sighed while now walking over and turning on the shower, letting the water get a bit warm before she steps in. After about ten minutes of showering, she stepped out and dried herself off, wrapping the towel around her petite frame afterwards. When she stepped foot back into her room, her younger brother, Steve was sitting on the bed and almost gave her a heart attack. "Hey there. Thought I told you about coming into my room." Her eyes glanced over towards him as he was holding a picture she kept. A picture of their older brother. "Give me that." She spoke through clenched teeth and snatched the photo away from him. "You cannot just come into my room and touch my things, Steve. God." Sam placed her hand on her forehead, sighing and sitting beside him.

"What's wrong?" She asked in a whisper tone as he looked towards her with knowing eyes. "You still involved with that gang, aren't you?" Steve asked in serious tone while Sam looked off to the side then back at Steve. "It's more than a gang, Steve. We're a family." She said then got up while walking over towards her closet and picking out an outfit to where to the party tonight. "I'm your family. They probably don't even care about you like I do." Sam turned around and folded her arms over her chest in the process. "They do too care about me. Steve, you do not have to worry about me, okay? I'll be fine." Steve got up from the bed in a bit of a rage as he walked past her. "Yeah, whatever." He walked out of her room and out of their apartment, not answering Sam's question as to where he was going. Standing against her closet door, she again sighed then picked out an outfit and changed into it.

After she changed and applied a little bit of makeup onto her face, she walked out of her apartment and down the trail of stairs and finally hit the pavement. She looked left and right before lowering her head, searching for her car keys as when she found them, she unlocked her car and got inside. Tonight was the party and she remembers her first one. Being timid and shy, not knowing what to do until a certain female took her underneath her wings and showed her the way. Sam smiled a little at the reminiscing thought then stuck the keys into the ignition and drove off of the parking lot.

She wanted to drive her bike to the party but decided against it. After a few minutes of driving, she was at the hangout and parked, already seeing people filled up inside. Sam got out of her car and locked it with the simple click of a button then proceeded her trek on inside, waving at a few familiar faces then going ultimately behind the bar, where she stood and straightened out her outfit. She wore nothing more than a muscle, gray t-shirt and a pair of blue jean short shorts that went well over her ass and a pair of heeled boots, black in color. A male came up to the counter and she smiled while asking him what he'd like to drink. The male responded that he'll like to drink her and Sam looked off to the side, chuckling and shaking her head. "Honey, you wouldn't even know how to handle me." She cooed as the male nodded his head and ordered a drink instead.

Sam fixed him his drink and handed it to him then looked out at the crowd. It felt nice to be back in this scene and she didn't miss a step, or so it seemed like it. She loved this feeling this atmosphere was giving her at the moment and hoped that nothing or no one was going to mess things up tonight. She'd hate to punch someone in the face tonight but if they asked for, she wasn't going to hesitate to do it even if they didn't provoke her. After standing before the bar like a rookie, she eventually went out and mingled with the rest of the crew, talking and laughing right along with them.

She even brought them drinks whenever they asked for a couple more rounds. She saw that Hugh didn't want anything to drink and walked over towards him and leaned against the counter with her back and elbows propped on the counter. "Hey there, Hugh. Everything okay with you?" She asked him but didn't want to pry too much as she waited for a response.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ryker Dowell Character Portrait: Levi 'SchoolBoy' Janowitz Character Portrait: Hugh O'Hogan Character Portrait: Clark Heath Character Portrait: Samantha Montgomery
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After the Vice.P could reply, Sam came up to Hugh without a care in the world. She almost seemed shy at asking him if he were okay, or uncertain if it were alright to ask. He did a slight smile that was hard to notice and reached over to pat her head. Hugh wasn't known in talking to the woman much, it wasn't because he was shy, he's just a man of very few words that show through his actions instead. He nodded to Vice.P, taking a step to the side as he ignored the eyebrow wiggling and the waving his glass at her.

It wasn't long before he took Vendetta over to Angela and the New Kid making his way through the crowd, parking his arise right next to Hugh, he looked as if he got his ask kicked and barely won the fight. He could only assume it was over a girl. That's what it seemed when he saw Stevie walk in just before him.

With a slight chuckle, he leaned over to whisper in Sam's ear, stopping her from going if she were to do so. His hand lightly rested on her hip, letting his fingers graze the little flesh that showed. "Check if we got that Irish Ale, love." He laid it on thick, his Irish accent, as he pull down her shirt that had ridden up on her in the back. Then leaned his side against the bar looking down on the New Kid. "Stevie, she's a bruit. Fair warning, ladฤ“. She doesn't take kindly to boy'os." He chuckled again and walked off back to his original seat in the shaded corner. If there was one thing he knew about woman, was they always went for a man that would snatch them up and show them who's boss. To treat them like woman and not little girls.

Not long after sitting there, his phone started to vibrate and ring in his pocket. "What is it?" "It's me, are you busy? We need to talk, I got that information you've been looking for." "..." Hugh looked around with his eyes and then got up from his seat. Making his way through the crowd he headed outside and into the work shop. "What did you find out?..." "Mhm..." "Aye, I'd do so." "Slรกn"

It would look like that he'd had to leave the Sons for a while and make a quick travel, just not anytime soon. The only problem was getting permission and to explain why without much detail involved. Hugh clinched his fist after putting his phone away, taking a deep breath as he shook it off and headed back in. Deciding to check up on the Prez.

~~~~~
"Hugh me boyo, when the time comes, you'll understand everything. Until then, just come." His dad spoke as he started to gather everything he could carry. Without much thought, Hugh at the time did the same thing. There was no time for him to act on his feelings, even though it was a bit horrifying the way he dad was acting, his hands shook, he had wild eyes and smelt of iron with a hint of dirt. At the time, he didn't understand that his father was somewhat covered in blood and looked like he just stepped out of a grave hole.

"Are you ready Uachtarรกn?" Prospect asked, he was looking just as horrifying as his father. Breathing heavy, sweating and wanted to hurry up and get the hell out.

"Hurry up Hugh!" He quickly grabbed both of their bags, tossing one to the Prospect. The Gardaรญs should be coming soon, we have no time to tallywag."

The two went their separate ways and long passed after a few days or so, the next thing Hugh remembers is seeing the Old President of S.o.A. It was in the middle of the night and everyone made due not to make any noise. It was hell crossing boarders and still Hugh didn't understand why, all he could do was assume.

~~~~~

He shook the memories away and knocked on the Prez's door waiting for a reply if he were even there.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ryker Dowell Character Portrait: Levi"SchoolBoy" Janowitz Character Portrait: Levi 'SchoolBoy' Janowitz Character Portrait: Stevie "Babydoll" Cordova Character Portrait: Angela Quiรฑones Character Portrait: Vendetta Character Portrait: Hugh O'Hogan Character Portrait: Clark Heath Character Portrait: Samantha Montgomery
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Stevie collected herself, Levi had confused her, but she wouldnโ€™t let him ruin her night. The truth of it was she honestly loved her life and being around SAMCRO. That was what drew people to her, her love for every single member no matter what theyโ€™d done. It was clear that she didnโ€™t take life too seriously, she just enjoyed it. She quickly slipped into the bathroom and into one of the private stalls cutting lines of coke on the steel colored toilet paper dispenser. She lend down snorting three perfect lines, before coming back up.

Her nose burned, but she felt incredible. Her senses were cleared and she felt invincible which was just the slightest bit dangerous, because she could smart off and end up pissing someone off. She slipped out of the stall and looked herself over in the mirror one more time. Despite the close encounter outside or the fact that Levi had her head else where she looked fucking incredible and she smirked, running a bit of lip gloss of over her crimson colored lips, before stuffing it back into her bra and heading out to start the night.

She ducked out of the bathroom heading up to the bar, passing Something spiritual and steeped in meaning...I'm thinkin' a cat licking its asshole right here on his forehead." she heard Ryker say making her smirk. She watched him Vendetta shove him away and she shook her head already feeling a million times better. She picked up Rykerโ€™s cigar for him and handed it back to him. โ€œPlay nice boys.โ€ Stevie teased, before smacking Angelaโ€™s ass in passing, she loved the girl to death and was fairly close with her.

She continued to the bar, excusing the other girl who was behind the bar to take over for her. She saw Levi sitting at the bar but she didnโ€™t bother acknowledging him. She hoped heโ€™d leave what had happened, outside and he wouldnโ€™t bring it up the rest of the night. She did her usual routine, pressing her lips to her index finger and middle finger, before pressing her fingers to the face of her father in a picture of all of the members SAMCRO that was taken weeks before heโ€™d died, it hung in view for everyone to see. She then turned the music up a little louder, putting something a little more lively on. The music started as she started mixing drinks for a few of the members. People seemed to like when she DJ during the parties, because she knew what to play and what to keep off the speakers.

It was quite a show watching her and it was clear sheโ€™d been there forever, she could mix a mean drink and the tips she counted at the end pf the night was proof of that, well that and her looks.
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Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ryker Dowell Character Portrait: Levi 'SchoolBoy' Janowitz Character Portrait: Stevie "Babydoll" Cordova Character Portrait: Angela Quiรฑones Character Portrait: Vendetta Character Portrait: Hugh O'Hogan Character Portrait: Clark Heath Character Portrait: Samantha Montgomery
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โ˜ โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ ๏ผด๏ผจ๏ผฅ ๏ผด๏ผฒ๏ผฉ๏ผง๏ผง๏ผฅ๏ผฒโ–‘
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๏ผถ๏ผฉ๏ผฃ๏ผฅ ๏ผฐ๏ผฒ๏ผฅ๏ผณ๏ผฉ๏ผค๏ผฅ๏ผฎ๏ผด โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ˜ 
Ryker recognized the diversion for what it was, a shift in subject to get the attention off of V. "Hmmm...I could always Mike Tyson it." He joked, tracing the curve of his brow with his middle finger. He stuck the cigar Stevie had so graciously handed back to him in his mouth. "Now, how about that light?"

Not a moment later, a question that had been posed in jest had him seriously contemplating a new addition on the road map that made up his body or at the very least a touch up. In truth, he relished the pain that came with tattoos. The needle digging into his skin reminded him what it was to be alive, reminded him what it was just to feel. Besides, one of the greatest lessons he had ever learnt since joining the club was that his wounds were often the openings into the best and most beautiful parts of him. It was time for some new scars. Ryker shrugged off his cut and jacket, entrusting them to Vendetta, before pulling his tee shirt over his head. "I think the logo needs some re-inking, would you mind?" He asked, giving the bar an eye full of just how dedicated he was to The Sons. The entirety of his back was eaten up by a massive reaper, the very same one that they all sported on their cuts, the words The Sons of Anarchy slicing across his shoulder blades and Redwood Original teetering on the small of his back. Angela happily obliged, breaking out a fresh needle as he straddled a chair in front of her. His eyes tracked V, Ryker smiling cheerfully as if to say, See? Not so bad. before he pulled a stool over beside his seat, offering it up for his friend before the tattoo artist set gun to flesh.

Not ten minutes into his session, a few laughs had and beers shared, the entire club fell silent as a set of blue and red lights illuminated the strip of effulgence peeking out from under the entrance door. The cops. They knew better than to show up in biker territory, it went unspoken. They had a few sheriffs in their pocket, a judge or two, just to keep the surprises to a minimum. Where was the heads up? He slowly rose, looking to his brothers. The President wasn't there, that meant it fell to him to handle whatever this was. He motioned for the gang to follow, not bothering to get dressed. Someone killed the music from behind the bar and the party goers that had been raveling outside filed in one by one before making way for Ryker, bodies parting like the red sea. His jaw was clenched tight, his fists were white knuckled with the sense of impending dread. As soon as he stepped out, the wind drug over his bare skin like a thousand tiny shards of glass. The headlights of a police cruiser blinded him, but he resisted the urge to put a hand up to shield his eyes. He could sense some of his brothers behind him, but he didn't look back to see how imposing they appeared left exposed by the unanticipated.

A lone officer, not one on their roster, stepped into the light; his body casting a shadow over Ryker's figure. He wore a look disquiet that rivaled Ryker's own. He wasn't there to make an arrest, which was made evident by his lack of peacocking or backup, which left only one other obvious mission. He was there to deliver bad news. "Boys," he started, sounding like there was something wedged in his windpipe. "I-Um, we found a bike out off 80 that uh...well a good ways away from that own the hill was a body. He was wearing a leather vest. One like one of yours. We weren't able to find any next of kin so..." He sighed heavily, looking rather flustered. "It's Clark Heath." Ryker had stopped breathing but he locked down his entire body, refusing to react in any way. The officer cleared his throat. "We were able to rule out vehicular manslaughter. It doesn't look like he crashed. Given the nature of the body, it's looking like this will be a homicide investigation."