The Saints' Devil

II

Frank had been on a run nearly that entire day. He was sent to work as "security" for a special meeting with the vice president of the club, Eagle, and the President of a not-so-friendly allied motorcycle club. They had run into problems with this specific club, the Eastside Panthers, for a long time. They had begun betraying other allied parties during meetings, much like this one, and slaughtering important members of other groups.

Frank was sent there to scare the living lights out of the Eastside Panthers and he had succeeded. During the entire meeting, Frank stood by Eagle's side, his lack of words and rather large physic, not to mention his legend being known to other clubs, had allowed the other club to act much more respectfully than they normally would.

"Have you agreed to the terms, Mr. Enrique?" asked Eagle, dealing with much of the documentation and paperwork of the meetings and of the clubs business. Enrique, President of the Eastside Panthers, was rather uncomfortable with Frank's presence. Upon hearing the question, Enrique had glanced at Frank and one hard look at his deathly frightening glance had forced Enrique to suddenly break in a nervous sweat.

"Y-Yes," Enrique said rather quickly, chuckling lightly. "The terms, yes. No question about it. Let's wrap this up, shall we?"

Enrique's bodyguards were all nervous, their hands where tightly gripping their guns and they watched Frank like Hawk's, waiting for the devil to make a move. Frank stood still, arms crossed over his extremely broad chest, and even though he lacked any type of movement it still seemed to frighten all the men in the room.

"Alright, then, please," Eagle said, removing his little glasses and placing them in his pocket, standing to his feet. "Sign here and here and we will be out of your hair," he instructed.

Enrique signed the papers, not caring where he was signing, his eyes constantly moving up to look at Frank. Once he was done signing the last paper he stood so quickly his chair flew back but he was adamant about leaving as quickly as he could and him and his men were out before Eagle could utter another word.

"I have yet to decide if your presence at these meetings is rewarding or damaging," Eagle spoke to Frank, patting the man on the shoulder. "So far, it seems to be rewarding. You've created quite the reputation."

Frank, out of all his brothers in the club, had silently admired Eagle the most. He was the oldest member, he'd been the vice president for many years now and had brought Frank in when he was a kid, when he had no where else to go. Eagle had openly expressed his love for Frank, it was like a father-son type of bond they had and Eagle surely loved him as if he was his own. Eagle had also seemed to be the only one to watch Frank go through the things he went through to watch his change and still stick by his side as if he had never changed to begin with.

"Go back to the club, old-man," Frank told Eagle, loading himself on his all-black Harley and revving the engine.

"Don't stay out too late, boy," Eagle told him, sitting himself on his own maroon Harley. "Fury's sister is coming today. He didn't want no one to be late."

Frank only nodded his head and sped off, hauling down the road with great speed, swerving in and out of traffic as he went. He went back to the clubhouse, well, to the place beside the clubhouse. His auto-shop, the Garage, was directly next to the clubhouse and, typically, was the one place he spent the most time at. He lived in the room above the shop, even, so it was practically his home.

He pulled his bike straight into the shop and parked it in the back.

"Hey, Frank," called Drake, emerging from the underneath side of a black tahoe. "Where you been?"

"Workin'."

"No shit," he laughed, rolling back under the car.

"What's wrong with this?" he asked, looking at the almost brand-new looking tahoe.

"Bad transmission, already. People who bought it were scammed. Pretty on the outside, absolutely garbage on the inside." Frank grunted in response and moved over to the red corvette on the other side of the shop. "You're not gonna go to the bar?" Drake called, wiping his hand on his stained rag and wiping his forehead. "Fury said it was important."

"I know," he snapped. "Go."

Drake waved him off and exited the shop, leaving Frank to work on the wheels of the brand new corvette before him. He turned on some music, specifically whatever was playing on the radio. He began, removing the bolts on the wheels, rather slowly, and replacing each wheel and each rim on each wheel as he went. After a while, he began working on the underneath side of the car, losing track of time completely.

He was working on something under the car, unscrewing and screwing things in, completely losing track of time.

"Frank, you missed the party," Drake called, knocking on the hood of the corvette, forcing Frank to wheel out from under the car and stand to his feet. "It was a whole shebang. Fury's sister is one woman that's for sure. Totally free spirit. Not sure if you'll like her."

He looked at him as he wiped his hands on his rag. "So."

"So, they're headin' over right now," he said.

"Why'd you come back," he grumbled, tossing his rag aside.

Before Drake could answer properly, he was interrupted. "Yo, Frank," Fury said entering the shop. Frank had his back to him, putting away some of his tools. "Didn't think you were gonna miss the party."

By now, Drake was chuckling and snickering to himself as he stood beside Frank.

"Workin'," Frank said simply, turning around to face Fury finally, only to be granted with the sight of a beautiful woman at his side.

She was definitely short, possibly five foot two, her hair was platinum blond, her eyes bright blue, her hips wide and curvy. She was clad in a pair of skinny jeans and a worn-out t-shirt, her hair in a ponytail, old vans on her feet. She popped her bubble gum and, after staring at Drake, looked over at Frank and, at first had no reaction.

"Whoa," she said and he was ready to watch her turn to Fury in fear, ready to hear how terrified she was. "I love your mask!" she nearly squealed, her eyes brightening with excitement. "You look like someone from Slipknot, totally love it!"

Frank was shocked to say the least. Drake seemed to be the only one to notice Frank's widened eyes through the slits of his mask and broke out laughing, hysterically.

"This is my sister, Frank," Fury said.

"Call me Charlie," she said, smiling brightly at him and holding her hand out for him to shake. Frank stood deathly still, looking from her to her hand for a moment. She stared at him. "Not a handshake type of guy?" she asked, instead bumping fists with him. "Don't worry, neither am I. This your shop?"

Frank was still a bit lost for words so he only nodded, hitting Drake in the back with the wrench in his hand. Drake doubled over in pain, choking out the last of his laughs.

"And that is why I came back, Frankie," he groaned to him, laughing yet again.

Frank raised the wrench in his direction, watching Drake scurry away still laughing like the ass he was.

"Right," Fury said, clearing his throat. "That was Drake, he works in the shop. This is Frank, he owns the shop. You'll be working with them, taking orders from them, blah blah."

Charlie smiles at him, leaving him still lost for words. "I'm totally excited," she admitted. "Give me whatever work you want, I can handle it."

"She'll start tomorrow, alright Frank?" Fury asked

Frank nodded slowly and watched the two exit the shop. Now he wasn't so sure he could work with a woman.