An old man slept soundly in his office, legs up and feet resting atop his desk, his sunglasses sliding off the bridge of his snot-bubbling nose. His hair was a dark gray, as was his bearded jawline, his skin dark though not as dark as his black leather jacket, the logo of an ace of spades on the back, and a patch above the front pocket that read “FOUNDER”, “PRESIDENT” underneath. President Ronin Stamos, leader of the Aces of Spades, a revered biker organization that prided itself in doing good for the masses, solving crimes and bringing forth justice to those who wished to bring harm to the world.
There was a knock at the door, though not loud enough to wake the Pres from his slumber. Again, but no use, Stamos was fast asleep, a box of half-eaten donuts sitting beside his legs, probably a sugar-induced coma that left him in such a state. The door flung open and in strode a woman with long orange hair, sporting a green, floral-patterned dress that fell to her knees. She sighed as she stood before Stamos’s desk, placing a cigarette between her lips and sparking it up, shaking her head as she grabbed the box of donuts and tossed them the Pres’s way. It landed on his stomach with enough force to wake him, and as he abruptly sat up, the box fell to the ground, leftover donuts slipping out onto the floor.
“Gosh darn it! My damn donuts!” He shouted, leaning over and attempting to dust them back into the box.
The woman cleared her throat. “You’re supposed to be watching your sugar intake, Mr President.”
Stamos looked up, surprised, gesturing to her cigarette as he put the box back atop his desk.“Ah, Mother Nature. You’re one to talk. Last time I checked, you were trying to quit the cigs.”
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“Yeah? Well, what can I say? I quit trying to quit.”
The two friends chuckled for a moment, then Stamos pointed at the seat before his desk, and Mother Nature sat down. Stamos opened his top desk drawer, pulled out a cigar case, and took one out and lit it. He inhaled long enough to exhale a large cloud of smoke that swirled around in the air above his head, then let the cigar rest on his bottom lip, ready to be puffed when he felt like puffing. He sat forward, leaning his forearms against his desk as Mother Nature stared at him, something clearly on her mind.
“Haven’t seen you around these parts for a while,” he said. “I take it you’re not just here for a friendly visit.”
She shook her head. “I’m not. Stamos, I think I’ve located them.”
Stamos sat back, rubbing his beard. “Where?”
“One of the few places we’ve looked. Take a guess.”
Stamos looked around the room, a dumb grin on his face. Of course that’s where they were. There weren’t many places that heavily secluded. It was the perfect place to hide if you didn’t want to be found, or better yet, if somebody didn’t want you to be found. He put his cigar down, and reached into his box of donuts, grabbing a half-piece of cinnamon-dusted and taking a chomp. He placed his index finger down on his buzzer, and leaned into the receiver, taking a breath.
“Trudy, get Kore and Scabs in here. Pronto.”