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myself this won’t be a violent confrontation, because I just don’t know what direction it could go. If I want to, I could blame Rifle for getting Cassie mixed up in this. For getting Rattlesnake on her tail and terrorizing her. Hell, for getting Rattlesnake killed.
    Navigating the neighborhoods is strange. They feel similar to mine, but the streets are all in the wrong direction. They’re empty, with no kids playing soccer or cutting classes. No dogs tied to chain link fences, and large dead tress line the overgrown lawns of the boarded up houses. My bike echoes off the wooden and broken down garage doors, and I try to silence the sound a little by coasting out of gear.
    Not long after, I locate his house. It’s a small hovel, and there’s no bikes parked along the side of the road or anything. The garage is closed, and I imagine if he isn’t home, he’s out with the Skeletons stirring shit up. I steer my bike along the side of a neighbor’s driveway and hike next door. Anything that’ll keep suspicion just a little low is helpful.
    I knock on the door a couple of times and stand back. No sounds from inside the house, and no evidence that anyone is home at all. Doubt starts to creep in, as it always does in these kinds of situations. What am I doing here? I already know how it’ll go down. He’ll tell me to fuck off, that I don’t know shit. Isn’t that what he started with when I first met him at the bar? He’s just a huge jack off and has been since the beginning.
    But what he said at the bar that night... what was it? He mentioned California. Things aren’t the same here. What did he mean? How would he even know about all that? I have a feeling Surge wasn’t the one who told him about our last outing with the Los Devils together. Maybe the Skeletons have someone else on the inside... besides Rifle. Talk about driving the nail into the coffin. If Ruin Outlaws had two rival members in it’s ranks, it might as well be disbanded.
    I turn away from the front door and get ready to descend the small stoop and walk back to my bike. The door clicks and swings open and I turn to see Rifle glaring through the battered and torn screen door.
    “What the fuck are you doing here?”
    I didn’t expect a warm welcome. “Don’t start with that shit, you know exactly why I’m here.”
    “Shut up, I don’t have shit to say to you or anyone else. Especially Surge. You better fucking beat it while you can still use your throttle hand.”
    I step back up to the screen and get so close I can smell the vinyl. His eyes are dark and red. I can tell something’s off about him. I hold my hand against the screen and push against it. “Remember this shit, Rifle?” My scar tissue presses against the screen first, the raised callus having nearly filled the ditch of my palm. “You have this too, you know. You were the one eager to do it.”
    He stares hard at me, ignoring my hand. “I just wanted to get outta that shit hole. You think I give a shit about some stupid ritual you had us do? One you probably made up on the spot?”
    “Didn’t you ever see Surge’s hands? He’s got one too.”
    “Who cares about Surge?”
    I’m restless and angered, but I try a different tact. “You know what Petrol said when everyone said you oughta hang for betraying us? He said you were still a brother.”
    He’s silent for a moment and grows stiff. He doesn’t break eye contact, but his body language changes. His hands disappear behind his back and he grunts a little. “You better leave before I have to kill you, Bomb. You were the one going on about trust and loyalty, but you had that chick behind your back the whole time. I bet the crew still don’t know shit about it either.”
    “They do, you’re the one who doesn’t know shit. She’s — .” I stop short, realizing what I’m about to say. He cocks an eyebrow.
    “She’s what? She’s at the bar right now? How god damn convenient for us.”
    “You’re high or something,