After a long morning, Gunner pushed his way into an empty room. Sliding his shades down, he scanned the room and spotted a large seat behind a podium. With a grin, he wasted no time sitting his tall in that cushioned, rolly chair. Sliding his hand into his back pocket, Gunner slid out a cigarette. Peaking at the 'No Smoking' sign next to his head he smirked while lighting to the end of it.

He didn't make a habit of smoking these, but it was a tradition before big jobs he'd made with his father. In hindsight, he shouldn't have been smoking that young but what was he to do about it now?

He glanced up around the dimly lit room, inhaling deeply. Gunner's blonde hair was unintentionally slicked back out of his face from his helmet. His cheeks hollowed in as he sucked in a deep breath, the tobacco hit the back of his throat just right and he released a groan while exhaling the smoke through his nose. His head tilted back slowly.

"God, that's good," he grumbled under his breath in the empty room. Looking at the cigarette, he rolled his eyes. "She'd kill me... what am I thinking? And the second hand smoke? Asshole," he scolded himself.

But still he eyed the cancer stick, "One more hit."

Checking his phone one more time, he saw the clock strike noon.

It was time for his meeting, Gunner smirked as he held the cig in his mouth.

The lights flickered on as if on cue, he watched everyone file in. Lazily, he stood at the podium. Looking to his side, he nearly chuckled. This was too good.

Gripping the gavel, he beat it down on the wood. Rapping against it obnoxiously, he shot a toothy grin to Captain Richards and the deputies that trailed behind him. And of course, Officer Daminger was one of the last to trickle in.

All of them had whipped around to see him. He watched their hands fly to their holsters on their hips as soon as they registered who he was and what exactly was happening right now. Daminger was the only one brave enough to aim it at his head.

But Gunner only stared at Captain Richards. The old man has seen better days, his age catching up with him. That big mustache on his face was all gray by now, his hair was nearly gone from the top of his head. But, that hate in his eyes for every biker in town would never dim.

"I didn't know you guys still used these," Gunner beat the gavel a few more times for good measure. "Y'know since y'all could never get anything to stick long enough to get me in front of a judge," he shrugged arrogantly.

Stepping from behind the podium, he saw Daminger's trigger finger itching. Those bruises he'd left on him were an ugly green and yellow, signaling they were healing unfortunately.

Throwing his thumb towards the overly eager officer, Gunner raised a brow at Richards.

"Ya gonna tell him to lower the gun so you can hear why I'm here... or do I have to do everything for you like usual?" The three other cops looked nervously between the three men. He didn't bother remembering their names, they were dirty but Daminger was filthy in comparison.

"Lower it," Richards barked in his low, croaky voice that often commanded respect.

"Long time no see, Dick," Gunner leaned against the podium. "You've had yer lackeys doin' all the shit work for the past few years. It's nice to see ya, it's nostalgic for me. Reminds me of my haydays."

Before Gunner's promotion to President and before Richards was Captain, they were each other's worst enemies. Constant harassing and arresting on Richards' part. And of course, Gunner has never been a saint.

Richards scoffed but it lacked any humor or fondness.

Nodding, Gunner saw that Richards had run out of his tolerance for games. Frowning, he realized he'd have to cut out his fun banter section from the itinerary.

"Aren't ya just a peach?" Gunner sighed. "See we were supposed to have this back and forth that would bring back memories and I would feel a little remorseful for wanting to put you six feet under."

"Go to hell- you fuckin' psycho. Nobody ever saw it, but I always could see through your bullshit. You're goddamn crazy. You're a cancer to this town."

"I see," Gunner nodded. Lifting his fingers to his mouth, he whistled sharply while flicking his cigarette to the ground finally. At the sound of the whistle, bikers flooded each exit. There were three exits in the large conference room, Butcher stood blocking the one nearest to him. Opposite of him was Jude, and to the left it was Hollywood. Two other bikers circled the small group of cops. Gunner knew he couldn't get too many bikers in and out without this job going undetected by the locals. Their bikers' presence was too noticeable to travel in large sizes in situations like these.

All of them made a show of cocking their weapons, checking the ammo, and slamming the doors behind them.

And that was when the sour smell of fear began emanating off the five cops.

"Listen up, because I tend to talk a lot. If ya haven't caught on," Gunner scratched the back of his neck as he meandered closer to the group of men he'd backed into a corner.

"Do you know why after all these years, I never killed you before Richards?" Gunner waited a moment. The old man was deathly silent. "Because we had a little bit of respect for each other!" He threw his hands up as if it was obvious.

Richards watched Gunner warily as he was only a foot away from him now. "You kept it about business," Gunner stressed his words deliberately. "You went after me. You went after my father. You went after the club- fine. You never bothered Penny- hell ya treated her like the average towny. And that is why I never went as far as to target ya."

Gunner and his father both never had to worry about the cops bothering Penelope, because the cops knew better than to go after his innocent sister that never broke any laws.

"And then you got lazy," Gunner hissed. Just as Richards had predicted, the smile on the blonde biker's face fell. And he was reminded with the glaring reality that Gunner was the President of a lethal motorcycle gang.

"You got yer title and you turned a blind eye to your guys runnin' the town into the ground. You started skimming off the people's hard earned cash, forgot you were one of 'em. You encouraged them-" He pointed at the other cops below the Captain as his voice raised to an abrasive yell. "To do anything they could to get under our skin."

Richards shook his head at him, "That ain't true-"

"Not true?!" Gunner barked before he could even finish. His neck flushed as the veins began to pulse. "They arrest us at the drop of a hat just to let us go the day after. They slash our tires, sabotage our vehicles... I can't tell ya how many times over the years I've had to come pick my guys up off the side of the road just because your guys were in a piss poor mood in the morning." Rolling his lips, he tsked softly.

Gunner's sharp, sage glare slid to Daminger dangerously before flickering back to Richards. "And yet, I could have tolerated that. Hell, even the shoot outs you all have been starting. What I can't allow, is targeting the bikers women and families outside of the club."

And that's what cracked Richards, his eyes slid to Daminger whose head hung at the revelation. Richards' eyes were narrowed in an accusatory sneer.

"I told you to stop that!" Richards snapped to the deputy.

"Oh was that after the run in with our medic a ways back? Yeah, that one was Butcher's," Richards' chest heaved as he looked over at the club enforcer. The auburn haired stone wall did nothing but narrow his eyes in response.

"But even then, against his better judgment, I let it go since you backed off. I would too, Valentina can be scary. But yet, here we are. Can you guess why?"

Richards rolled his lips, his head dropping to the ground. Crooking his jaw, Gunner shoved at the other man's shoulder to force his attention back on him.

"You let them fuck with whats mine. My fuckin' girl. Everything that's hers is mine. So when that ugly fuck over there is circling her house, showin' up at her work, showin' up at her kids daycare. Putting his hands on her!" Gunner's sharp yell bounced off the bare walls. Richards flinched away, but the blonde backed off. Gripping Daminger by his collar and dragging him forward.

Once again, Gunner had a gun in his face.

"That's funny," he snorted. Glancing at Richards, he cocked his brow expectantly.

"Put it down," the Captain demanded. Daminger was appalled, hesitating to listen to his superior.

"Be a good boy and do what daddy says," Gunner taunted. When the gun was out of the way, Gunner fisted the cops shirt and threw his fist into those healing bruises. Not allowing him to stumble back, taking a handful of his cropped hair Gunner slammed Daminger's head down into his knee cap.

All of the cops watched the deputy fall to the ground, none of them moved to help him. The other three cops had been shuffling backwards slowly but surely. However, the Mayhem Men knew better. The bikers circling them shoved the trio of them forward, snickering at how they cowered away.

"I want ya to know the precinct will be in good hands... after all this," Gunner waved between them. "I've got a little lawyer up my sleeve, the one that got that investigation from Internal Affairs goin'? Yeah, he's great. With that planted before hand- I turned in another favor from a sheriff in the town over. That one that conveniently had a meeting schedules with you in..." He peeked at his watch.

"Twenty minutes? He's gonna conveniently walk in on an absolute blood path. Officer gone crazy... who would've thought? Daminger just lost it, all those reports against him were piling up and he snapped. Killed his entire team and supervisor. Only for the investigators- who've I've created a mighty nice repertoire with- to find out about all the corrupt malpractice goin' on."

"You've always got a backup," Richards spat more towards himself than anyone.

"And a backup for the backup," Gunner reminded.

Before he could continue, in his peripheral he caught sight of Daminger just in time to duck down. Crawling away on all fours, Daminger had gripped his gun that'd clattered to the ground. Flipping onto his back, with his bloody eye swollen shut he took a shitty shot at Gunner.

Having dropped out of aim, Gunner whipped his head over to see the bullet strike one of the three dirty, unnamed cops tangled in all this shit. He'd cried out, clutching his gut as he toppled over.

He almost burst out laughing at the convenience if a shit show didn't break out immediately after. Bullets flew, Gunner slid by the podium and fired off at Daminger.

The lucky bastard had moved just in time behind the couches to his left, one of Gunner's bullets only grazed Daminger's side and leg. Growling in a rush, he turned his attention away to his blind spots.

Richards wasn't where he'd left him, presumably not staying put in the middle of open firing from both sides. Fair enough.

Turning to his right, Gunner went wide eyed. "Fuck!" He hissed and with barely enough time to think he gripped the barrel of the gun pointed at his head and aimed it up to the ceiling. Richards pulled the trigger futilely with gripping Gunner's weapon, dust from the ceiling panels falling atop of everyone.

The two men wrestled, Gunner easily snatched his gun back. His calculated eyes were still steady as he lifted the gun under the old man's chin.

This had Richards stalling. He opened his mouth, speaking now more than ever.

"Gunner- Gunner you know me," he heaved. "You know me- didn't touch yer girl told them all-"

Gunner didn't have the patience for him anymore, pulling the trigger swiftly.

He watched the bullet tear up through Richards skull, unflinching at the blood splattering his face. Sneering at the man, he let him drop.

Glancing up, he saw just what he liked to see. Jude and Butcher, tackling down the other officers that'd run out of ammo with their shitty aim. The bikers reemed into them, beating them into unrecognizable pulps.

"Yo!" Storming over, Gunner raised his firearm and sent a bullet through their heads from across the room as he approached.

Butcher and Jude both released the dead men, glancing at the president. Butcher's eyes flickered over the room, squinting for a moment.

Seeing the look on his face, Gunner spun around and scanned the bloodied room.

First, he saw one of the two volunteer bikers had been shot. It had been Marley, hissing as he held his shoulder and Hollywood pressed against his bullet wound on his leg.

Someone was missing.

"Where is Daminger?" The question barely came out above a whisper but he quickly fixed that.

"Where in the fuck is Daminger?!" Gunner's furious scream pierced everyone's ears. With his chest heaving, Gunner's composure melted away as his wild eyes were blazing with a bleeding anger.

He seethed as he looked at Butcher whose jaw was crooked. "Yer with me. Fuck... Fuck! Get him to Doc and Valentina to be treated," he pointed at Marley. "Hollywood you take those two to the club, do what I fuckin' say. Jude call Taz, call fucking Taz right now!" He demanded while turning on his heel.

Darting outside, Butcher and Jude both followed behind him and kept pace. Gunner heaved and he sprinted for his bike, "I know exactly where he's fucking goin'!"