Chapter 1 - Red

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CRASH! The alarm clock crumbled to pieces as it slammed into the bedroom wall. Red groaned. That was the fourth clock he'd busted in the last couple weeks. This was beginning to get ridiculous. As he pulled himself from his warm blankets, Red sighed, resenting the day already. It was 5:00am.
Red's bare feet felt like ice blocks against the cold hardwood floor of the Club's main hallway. He made his way slowly to the meeting room, affectionately called the Reaper's Nest. Most of the senior members were already seated at the table, with the exception of the President. Michael Shannon was always late to his own meetings. It drove Red crazy, but what could he do about it?
The meeting was scheduled for 5:15am, and it wasn't until 5:23am that Michael finally sauntered through the heavy vault door.
"Morning boys. Let's get started." Michael took his seat at the head of the table and rested his hand tenderly on his large wooden gavel. "First things first: I apologize for the early meetings we've been having," he paused, glancing pointedly at Red. "But as you all know, this matter with the Banshees is getting out of hand."
A couple of the members chuckled quietly. A few of them were having trouble taking the Banshees seriously. After all, what threat could a bunch of power hungry Old Ladies pose to a well-established, all-male outlaw club? But Michael Shannon could see a problem brewing. The last thing the Road Reapers needed was a group of hormonal biker ladies encroaching on Reaper territory in an attempt to get their name out. That would be very bad for business.
Red couldn't care less about the Banshees. He wasn't threatened by them. As long as they found their own means and didn't mess with his Club's business they were of no concern to him. But, as the soon-to-be Vice President, he forced himself to pay attention to what Shannon was saying.
As far as Red could tell, the Banshees hadn't done anything yet to warrant action from the Reapers. They'd managed to get their motorcycle mechanic shop up and running, and so far had only been seen frequenting one bar, probably looking for prospects. Business seemed to be going well for them. There were always at least four bikes outside the shop waiting for service, and he'd heard no complaints so far. From what Red could see, his brothers weren't so much threatened by the women as they were being sexist.
Red snapped back to reality when he heard his name.
"Red, you'll be the one to break the ice. I want you to go to the Banshees' shop today. Your job is to convince them to patch over to the Road Reapers. If they don't go for it, bargain. You're the best at negotiating, so I trust you can work something out. If all else fails, threaten them."
Red nodded his head, suppressing a groan. Running a hand through his strawberry blonde hair, which had started to curl by his ears, Red watched the gavel come down, signalling the end of the meeting. He needed a beer.

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