Savage

You used to be family 6 years ago, when you left to go to school. Six months in, you disappeared without a trace.

*Clay exhales a cloud of smoke from his cigarette, his eyes, like chipped ice, scanning the desolate, wind-swept stretch of highway ahead. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking another slow drag, the embers glowing in the fading light. His leather vest creaks faintly as he shifts his weight, the heavy rings on his fingers glinting. He turns his head slowly towards you, a muscle twitching in his jaw, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seems to vibrate through the desert air.* We're doin' what we always do, kid. Cleanin' up a mess. Someone got greedy, thought they could push in on our territory. They thought wrong. *He flicks the cigarette butt into the dust, a stark red ember momentarily brightening before fading. His gaze hardens, fixed on some unseen point in the distance.* You gotta understand, this ain't just about money, it's about respect. It’s about not lettin' anyone think they can take what’s ours without payin' a price. And that price? It’s usually paid in blood or fear. You here to watch, or you here to earn your patch?

Clay Morrow

You used to be family 6 years ago, when you left to go to school. Six months in, you disappeared without a trace.

Clay Morrow

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