Fear The Reaper
Blue Mage
The Sons of Anarchy.
They are a 1% Motorbike Club originating from a small town in Northern California, Since being formed in 1967 they have expanded their base of influence to cover half of the countries around the world.
The First 9 are all long since dead and now the MC has taken on new blood to keep the legacy going.
Jax Teller took over his step-fathers duties as the President of the MC when he was assassinated by the Mayans.
Abel Teller, The son of Jax Teller who was the son to John Teller, one of the founding members of the Club, and a joint founder of the Morrow-Teller Garage they use as a front for their Clubhouse.
Abel now has to step up to his fathers duties, as Jax began to suffer the same debilitating illness his step-father had suffered, making him unable to ride a motorcycle.
Jax still remains a vital member of the Club although he cannot ride a motorbike.
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Abel awoke covered in sweat, as he opened his eyes slowly he looked around his room. The room was dimly lit by the sunlight filtering through the thin metal blinds, casting a striped shadow across the carpeted floor.
"Argghhh! My head." Abel groaned as he stood up and pulled on his jeans.
Stepping barefooted into the bathroom, Abel reached for the cabinet and opened the door. Taking out his 9mm and 2 paracetamol for his head. Tucking the pistol down the back of his jeans, he walked back into his bedroom and pulled on a clean white t-shirt and his cut.
"Tara" Abel yelled as he finished pulling on his white trainers.
His 'mother' came to the door of his room, "I told you to call me mother" She spoke softly as she came and adjusted Abel's cut.
"Hows Father doing?" Abel asked as he walked towards the door.
"His hands are getting better." Tare spoke softly. "The doctor's said he might be able to ride again soon."
"I hope so, Mum." Abel spoke with a grin on his face.
"Enough of that cheek" Tara laughed as she clipped Abel round the back of the head with the newspaper she had picked up off of Abel's floor.
Abel walked through the bar, grabbing a cup of coffee off of the bar as he walked by, downing the hot coffee in two gulps he slid the cup back down the bar, as he reached the exit to the garage forecourt.
"Abel" Jax called as he peered out from beneath a bike held up on chains.
"Hey Dad" Abel spoke as he took a look at the engine of the bike, grabbing a wrench he tightened a loose bolt and pulled Jax from beneath it as he twisted the key in the ignition. The bike roared to life.
"How do you do that son?" Jax spoke as he scratched his head.
"These are magic fingers" Abel laughed as he held up his hands in front of his face.
As Abel lowered the bike to the garage floor the sound of gunfire rang out as the sound of gunfire and motorbikes filled the garage forecourt.
"Abel be careful" Jax yelled as he chucked him an assault rifle.
They are a 1% Motorbike Club originating from a small town in Northern California, Since being formed in 1967 they have expanded their base of influence to cover half of the countries around the world.
The First 9 are all long since dead and now the MC has taken on new blood to keep the legacy going.
Jax Teller took over his step-fathers duties as the President of the MC when he was assassinated by the Mayans.
Abel Teller, The son of Jax Teller who was the son to John Teller, one of the founding members of the Club, and a joint founder of the Morrow-Teller Garage they use as a front for their Clubhouse.
Abel now has to step up to his fathers duties, as Jax began to suffer the same debilitating illness his step-father had suffered, making him unable to ride a motorcycle.
Jax still remains a vital member of the Club although he cannot ride a motorbike.
==========================================================
Abel awoke covered in sweat, as he opened his eyes slowly he looked around his room. The room was dimly lit by the sunlight filtering through the thin metal blinds, casting a striped shadow across the carpeted floor.
"Argghhh! My head." Abel groaned as he stood up and pulled on his jeans.
Stepping barefooted into the bathroom, Abel reached for the cabinet and opened the door. Taking out his 9mm and 2 paracetamol for his head. Tucking the pistol down the back of his jeans, he walked back into his bedroom and pulled on a clean white t-shirt and his cut.
"Tara" Abel yelled as he finished pulling on his white trainers.
His 'mother' came to the door of his room, "I told you to call me mother" She spoke softly as she came and adjusted Abel's cut.
"Hows Father doing?" Abel asked as he walked towards the door.
"His hands are getting better." Tare spoke softly. "The doctor's said he might be able to ride again soon."
"I hope so, Mum." Abel spoke with a grin on his face.
"Enough of that cheek" Tara laughed as she clipped Abel round the back of the head with the newspaper she had picked up off of Abel's floor.
Abel walked through the bar, grabbing a cup of coffee off of the bar as he walked by, downing the hot coffee in two gulps he slid the cup back down the bar, as he reached the exit to the garage forecourt.
"Abel" Jax called as he peered out from beneath a bike held up on chains.
"Hey Dad" Abel spoke as he took a look at the engine of the bike, grabbing a wrench he tightened a loose bolt and pulled Jax from beneath it as he twisted the key in the ignition. The bike roared to life.
"How do you do that son?" Jax spoke as he scratched his head.
"These are magic fingers" Abel laughed as he held up his hands in front of his face.
As Abel lowered the bike to the garage floor the sound of gunfire rang out as the sound of gunfire and motorbikes filled the garage forecourt.
"Abel be careful" Jax yelled as he chucked him an assault rifle.