Post by Cullen Montoya on Jul 27, 2014 17:11:12 GMT -6
It was well after sunrise when he finally made his way back to the clubhouse. There really was nothing he could do for Trei right now. Between Brook and Sinister, Cullen knew he would just be in the way. Sleep was a foreign concept to him on the best of days, but right now? He didn't know if he was ever going to have another decent night's sleep again. He was at a complete loss on how to even begin to fix things. It really, truly felt like things have gotten beyond repair.
The clubhouse was virtually empty. Everybody was either at the hospital with Trei, or they were like him. Lost and drifting, scattered to the winds in hopes of finding some direction to take. Cullen was sitting alone in the chapel, a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels resting on the table beside him. A small wooden box was held in his hands. It had a small metal nameplate across the top that simply said "Snake" with a small Reaper insignia branded into the wood. Inside were a small collection of mementos, memories of better days. The box contained a couple medals from his time with the SEALs, a handful of small patches from his uniform, and a selection of photographs. One photograph in particular had his full attention.
Three kids were mugging for the camera, each one of them trying to look cool. Two of them were dressed pretty similar, a young Damion and Trei. It was shortly after Damion had taken over the club. The boy beside them looked a bit more out of place from the rest of them. An 18-year-old Cullen was standing there, dressed in a set of Naval BDUs, with that infuriating smirk on his lips. One part coy, two parts arrogant. He was holding his kutte in one hand and a large duffel bag in the other.
Cullen remembered that day vividly. It was the day he shipped out for BUD/S. He didn't expect anybody to be there. His old man was too busy with his "real" family. His stepdaughter had some sort of volleyball game or some other bullshit. That was the way it was for Cullen. He had lived in Dallas with his mother until he was 15. When she passed away, he was shipped up to New York to live with a man he had never known. That man had his own family, his own priorities. Cullen was just a minor indiscretion from his past, past he had tried to put behind him. But when he showed up to board the bus, his real family was waiting for him. Damion shoved a kutte into his chest with a grin, "You forgot something, brother."
"While you're out there trying to save the world, remember, you always have a place to come home to," Trei said as he came to give Cullen a brotherly hug.
This was his family. The only family he's ever really had. Cullen stared at the photograph as everything came crashing down on his shoulders. His body visibly buckled as if he could physically feel the weight pressing down on him. One of his brothers was laid up in a hospital bed fighting for his life. Cullen had seen combat on four different continents. He had been shot, stabbed, and nearly blown up more times than he cared to remember. But not one of his skills, none of his training, could help Trei. He has never felt so completely and utterly hopeless.
As if that wasn't enough, he didn't know what to do about Dawn. She turned her back on the club. He knew that no matter how justified she thinks she is, something like that can't go unpunished. The DeVirs are just one more threat that had to be dealt with. The message had been pretty clear to Cullen. The DeVirs, intentionally or not, gave the club an ultimatum. Agree to their deal, or the club will be on its own. Maybe things work differently for some folks, but to a man like Cullen something like that was a direct threat. It implied that the DeVirs would potentially take away the support the club did have. Maybe it wasn't meant that way, but Cullen and Trei had both know the score. There was too much potential risk involved. And then showing up with a team of snipers? Cullen understood the security team. He even respected the move. Which was why he approached the group cautiously. It was a warrior's show of respect. But those damn snipers. That was the tipping point for him. Everybody could have walked away clean from this, but after that? He just didn't know. Cullen had been made into a machine. A living, breathing weapon of mass destruction. If he was put into motion, nothing short of death would prevent him from completing his objective. Not even promises made to his best friend.
His attention shifts to the laptop sitting on the table, staring at the open e-mail as if it was a loaded gun. It was addressed to both Luey and Damion, containing a brief rundown of what happened to Trei and a question "What do I do now?"
With Trei out of commission and Dawn having her head all screwed up, this was Cullen's chain of command. The camera footage from the entire Night was already attached to the e-mail, complete with the audio files. It had everything from the arrival of the DeVirs to the meeting itself, everything up to the moment that Alex drove off. Nothing was edited. Nothing was cut. It was meant to be presented as truly and unbiased as possible. Shaking his head with a sigh, he mouses over and clicks on Send.
"I just hope I'm doing the right thing…"
The clubhouse was virtually empty. Everybody was either at the hospital with Trei, or they were like him. Lost and drifting, scattered to the winds in hopes of finding some direction to take. Cullen was sitting alone in the chapel, a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels resting on the table beside him. A small wooden box was held in his hands. It had a small metal nameplate across the top that simply said "Snake" with a small Reaper insignia branded into the wood. Inside were a small collection of mementos, memories of better days. The box contained a couple medals from his time with the SEALs, a handful of small patches from his uniform, and a selection of photographs. One photograph in particular had his full attention.
Three kids were mugging for the camera, each one of them trying to look cool. Two of them were dressed pretty similar, a young Damion and Trei. It was shortly after Damion had taken over the club. The boy beside them looked a bit more out of place from the rest of them. An 18-year-old Cullen was standing there, dressed in a set of Naval BDUs, with that infuriating smirk on his lips. One part coy, two parts arrogant. He was holding his kutte in one hand and a large duffel bag in the other.
Cullen remembered that day vividly. It was the day he shipped out for BUD/S. He didn't expect anybody to be there. His old man was too busy with his "real" family. His stepdaughter had some sort of volleyball game or some other bullshit. That was the way it was for Cullen. He had lived in Dallas with his mother until he was 15. When she passed away, he was shipped up to New York to live with a man he had never known. That man had his own family, his own priorities. Cullen was just a minor indiscretion from his past, past he had tried to put behind him. But when he showed up to board the bus, his real family was waiting for him. Damion shoved a kutte into his chest with a grin, "You forgot something, brother."
"While you're out there trying to save the world, remember, you always have a place to come home to," Trei said as he came to give Cullen a brotherly hug.
This was his family. The only family he's ever really had. Cullen stared at the photograph as everything came crashing down on his shoulders. His body visibly buckled as if he could physically feel the weight pressing down on him. One of his brothers was laid up in a hospital bed fighting for his life. Cullen had seen combat on four different continents. He had been shot, stabbed, and nearly blown up more times than he cared to remember. But not one of his skills, none of his training, could help Trei. He has never felt so completely and utterly hopeless.
As if that wasn't enough, he didn't know what to do about Dawn. She turned her back on the club. He knew that no matter how justified she thinks she is, something like that can't go unpunished. The DeVirs are just one more threat that had to be dealt with. The message had been pretty clear to Cullen. The DeVirs, intentionally or not, gave the club an ultimatum. Agree to their deal, or the club will be on its own. Maybe things work differently for some folks, but to a man like Cullen something like that was a direct threat. It implied that the DeVirs would potentially take away the support the club did have. Maybe it wasn't meant that way, but Cullen and Trei had both know the score. There was too much potential risk involved. And then showing up with a team of snipers? Cullen understood the security team. He even respected the move. Which was why he approached the group cautiously. It was a warrior's show of respect. But those damn snipers. That was the tipping point for him. Everybody could have walked away clean from this, but after that? He just didn't know. Cullen had been made into a machine. A living, breathing weapon of mass destruction. If he was put into motion, nothing short of death would prevent him from completing his objective. Not even promises made to his best friend.
His attention shifts to the laptop sitting on the table, staring at the open e-mail as if it was a loaded gun. It was addressed to both Luey and Damion, containing a brief rundown of what happened to Trei and a question "What do I do now?"
With Trei out of commission and Dawn having her head all screwed up, this was Cullen's chain of command. The camera footage from the entire Night was already attached to the e-mail, complete with the audio files. It had everything from the arrival of the DeVirs to the meeting itself, everything up to the moment that Alex drove off. Nothing was edited. Nothing was cut. It was meant to be presented as truly and unbiased as possible. Shaking his head with a sigh, he mouses over and clicks on Send.
"I just hope I'm doing the right thing…"
