Thugs MC preview

book preview of Thugs MC


 


PAPERBACK
BOOKS
THUGS
M.C. 


THUGS M.C. – The Book
Stirring Up A Storm Nationwide!

“This book just took the meaning
of hardcore to a new level”

Thugs M.C. is a brutal look at the ruthless underworld through the eyes of one
of its most notorious figures. The beast has been unleashed as you will see the
vicious world hidden amongst the norm of society, its talons finding purchase in
every aspect of everyday life.
The author has given an account of this part of his life with a fictional twist
to protect real incidents from coming to light, many long since buried along
with a few sorry souls to accompany them.
The criminal underworld has a new force and they play by their own rules.
No punches have been pulled, the reader
will be hit flush in the face, be prepared
.


Read this book if you dare!

THIS BOOK IS
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN

In Store Price: $AU23.95 

Online Price:   $AU22.95

ISBN:
1-9208-8456-4

Format: A5 Paperback

Number of pages:
190


Genre:
Fiction

 

 

 

 

 


 

Author: Ben
Daley 


Imprint: Poseidon

Publisher: Poseidon Books

Date Published: 2004

Language: English

HOME PAGE


Chapter
1
 

 Sydney
– 5am.Oxford Street. The crew was partying hard at D.C.s, as D.C.M. nightclub
was fondly known. The crew consisting of seven close friends, the self
proclaimed lords of Oxford Street. These young men, thrown into the competitive
party culture of Sydney as naive teenagers, years later in their mid twenties as
seasoned campaigners. The infamous young men, developing quite a reputation in
the previous few years, for unparalleled and often seemingly unprovoked
violence, frequenting with the known ‘in crowd’ of Sydney (especially the
criminal aspect), and everything from public displays of sexual bravado with
naive young women in nightclubs, to drug dealing in open display in these same
venues, in an arrogant uncaring manner in a seemingly direct challenge to law
authorities. 

Standing
there at the bar, the seven young men looked a menacing sight. Most being quite
large, both in height and muscular density, the crew looked a formidable
opponent to any that might ever have conflict with any of these urban rascals.
Seemingly the leader, one took position in the centre, with the others grouped
around like a fire on a cold winter’s night. Shorter than some of the others
he made up for this with excessive bulk on his well-tattooed frame. But it
wasn’t his bulk, ink work or bleached blond hair, nor the leather pants or the
large boots he wore, no, it was his dangerous eyes that drew the most attention.
The eyes bespoke of a lack of regard for the sanctity of other’s lives and
dared any to look deep into them in a display of anything but servitude.  
‘Grim’, as he was known by all but close family. This due to the
large tattoo of the Grim Reaper plastered across his back and also his
disposition to any he did not warm to in his travels. 

Not
that the group had a designated leader but Grim had an aura and a magnetic like
quality that drew people to him and made him, coupled with his quick to the
point, ruthless thinking and actions, more nominated spokesman of the group. Any
unknowns in close proximity to the group were quickly assessed by Grim and
allowed to party with the crew or sent packing by a warning look, a few rough
words, or if the hint wasn’t taken, physically removed by one brute or another.  
 

One
of the crew seemingly closer than others to Grim was Kahled.   Kahled was Australian born but of Lebanese descent,
whilst Grim was Irish/Italian, yet the two were of surprisingly similar
appearance. The two had met at school in unusual circumstances. Kahled was in
year 12 at Bankstown High School and a few years older than Grim, being in Year
9. Grim had been training hard in the weights room and had put on impressive
increases in muscle size and had gained well in the strength department. Kahled
was a renowned bully that preyed on boys in younger years. A rumble was
inevitable between the two. It came on the oval at lunch one day and left the
both broken, bloodied and bruised and from that day on, the closest of mates. 

Kahled
was fiercely protective of Grim like a mother lion over her cubs. Kahled was
Grim’s second set of eyes and ears that always had his back. The trust when
placed in the direst situations between the two was legendary, and to challenge
either, one way or another would be to unleash the wrath of the other. 

Harley
downed another glass of Jack Daniels and belched similarly to a hippo clearing
his throat. Harley was a local roughneck whose fascination with motorcycles had
promptly earnt him the nickname. He was a lout, with whom a good laugh was
always to be had in his company. The testicle that he had lost years previously
in a bike accident, more often than not being the source of constant amusement,
was of immense annoyance to him though.

“I
am going for a piss boys,” he said, strutting off to the toilets wiping the
few droplets of J.D. off his beard with the back of his hand.
 

The
rest of the boys were buzzing hard, the girls dancing with them no exception,
which was a widely known perk of associating with them. They tended to keep the
womens’ recreational drug use requirements for the night under control, but at
the end of the night there was never a shortage of these girls returning the
favor and ensuring no one suffered from sexual frustration. Lukey was working
his magic on two fine pieces of ass.   

“Share
some of that round little man,” Grim said in a friendly tone.  

“No
worries bro, gonna go wake up again first though.”

This
meant Luke was going to the toilets for another large line of speed or coke,
whichever was his drug of preference for the night. Kahled told him, “don’t
have too much bro,” basically voicing everyone’s concerns in regards to
his escalating drug use.

“She’ll
be right mate,” came his typical reply. That was Luke for you, reckless and
with a love of the party life, he was always getting on it as though he was
having sugar with his coffee, as he put it, the more the better.
 

Luke
had started out as a runner for Kahled and Grim at the end of high school. A
year below Grim at school, he had always looked up to them. Kahled and Grim had
size to add to their image, whereas Luke had his pretty boy looks. Looks coupled
with a love of recklessness. He had a quick wit with a smooth tongue to match,
which had talked its way into quite a few young naïve women’s pants. But fast
women and a fast life has its toll as young Luke was still to learn, despite
advise from his older and more experienced friends. 

Luke
glided back to the bar, eyes like large black saucers. Two girls approached him
and he smoothly put an arm around one and reached in his pocket with the other
hand. He brought his hand up to his mouth dropping in two ‘Es’ as ecstasy
tablets were known. He turned to the closest girl, grabbing her in a rough
embrace, and kissed her passionately, in the process his tongue expertly slid
one of the pills from his mouth to hers. After completing this manoeuvre he
proceeded to do the same thing with the other girl. Cheers of encouragement
accompanied him through all of this.  

After
dancing briefly with the two girls Lukey took them over for the rest of the
boys. Their bodies bespoke of unseen sexual bliss and they were quickly ushered
to sit down near the bar. Once seated, the new meat was ‘set upon’ by the
hormonal young men, loud bragging being the basic conversation that impressed
girls of this moral fabric. 

Harley
spied a Persian dude called Nick across the room. Wearing his bright yellow Fubu
jacket he was hard to miss. Slicked back greasy black hair, a big nose, a
typical bloody wog. Nick was one of Persian Sammy’s boys, a crew with which
they had been having an ongoing battle. The latest casualty being Sammy’s own
brother, ambushed by four of Grims’ crew in Lakemba with baseball bats, leaving
his leg broken and his head with a permanent slight disfigurement. Nick
obviously hadn’t learnt from the beating Ramzi, Sammy’s brother had taken,
‘cause otherwise the stupid prick wouldn’t be in one of the clubs they had
claimed, obviously dealing. 

Harley
nudged Grim and signaled with his head in the direction of Nick. Grim saw Nick
and summed up the situation quickly and the direct course of action that must be
taken. Nick must be made an example of.  The
nerve of the fuckin’ camel prick to try and deal on their turf. They had
gained total control of this strip due to the fear they had instilled in the
opposition and the mystique that follows. Nick being here was a direct insult,
he had to be punished for respect to be maintained in such a volatile industry
where weakness is a cardinal sin. 

Cody
suggested using his mate Vince for a staged buy of 20 pills off Nick in the
toilet. Being a dumb greedy wog, Nick went straight in to the toilets to
complete the transaction. More than a score of people had been robbed of their
product in previous months in various clubs but wogs never learn. Nick had no
idea of the depravation he was to experience till all seven filed in.

Cody
and Nitro quickly took position by the doors, closing them preventing others
from entering. Once this was done the rat packing commenced. The remaining five
began to kick the living shit out of Nick. The steel capped boots causing
carnage to Nick’s head and body. Kahled signaled for it to stop once Nick
started to flop around like a fish on the blood-drenched tiles. Harley then
emptied Nick’s pockets of valuables and removed Nick’s gold chain and gave
it to Vince for his part in it all. Bit more than eighty pills and about $700 in
cash, not bad. Grim ripped Nick’s now soaked shirt and jacket off and removed
his knife from his bum bag. Then with extreme precision as though performing a
life saving operation, he began to carve the words, ‘Fuck You Sammy’, in the
skin of Nick’s chest and stomach.

A
heavy reader of war novels and manuals, Grim often used such tactics, highly
unconventional in modern times, to strike fear into his enemies. Word of this
branding would spread through the ranks of Sammy’s followers and would be a
direct insult to their leader. Thus drawing Sammy into retaliation against them
or to be thought of as a fearful ‘pussy’.
 

Grim
gave the word and the crew filed out.

“Let’s
get the fuck out of here and go to Splash.”

“Fuckin’
oath,” Kahled agreed, knowing that someone would soon find Nick in the toilet
and the security and an ambulance would be notified. Grabbing the boys and a few
chicks they surged out of D.C.s as an energized mob, adrenalised after the
vicious beating. Grim approached the bouncer on the door, Tongan Willie as they
exited, “someone might have tripped in the toilets, make sure he doesn’t get
too much help too soon.” 

“Sweet
as, bro,” came Willie’s reply, having a good idea of what Grim was talking
about, as they had perpetrated similar violent acts in the club before. Grim had
a good rapport with the security and they knew not to fuck with him. Besides, a
couple of them got their product from him, and good quality is hard to find. 

Surging
across Oxford Street they headed to Splash. Though mates with the door staff
there also, there was a collective sigh of, “Oh Fuck,” when they were seen.
Though they looked after the boys, they always tended to run amuck in their
club, leaving numerous situations for them to rectify and lots of disgruntled
patrons. Ensuring the security boys purchased their drugs quite cheaply off
them, and having them deal in the clubs, had been an integral part of Grim’s
initial strategy to control the local drug trade. The doorman in turn covered
for them when they caused shit in the clubs and denied access to people they
didn’t like, and other dealers usually. Bouncers were also an important part
of the nightclub information highway, as they notified Grim of the presence of
detectives, helping to ensure they were never caught dealing openly in these
venues. 

At
the door of Splash they were all promptly ushered inside. No longer were they
made to line up since they flogged a new security guard for doing so a couple of
months back. They were known to be carrying firearms, since on more than one
occasion, after a bit too much coke, a couple of them had been known to fire a
couple of shots into the roof for kicks. On the way in, the metal detectors went
off as usual, but the typical blind eye was turned as they entered the club. 

Once
inside they took up position on the second level in the small lounge area. The
large group’s appearance was a signal for the other patrons in this area to
proceed downstairs to safer spots.

Grim
took position in the centre of a large red lounge with Kahled and Harley
positioned on either side. He signaled for two of the chicks with the group,
Cindy and Fox, to take a seat next to him and between Harley and Kahled. These
two were both strippers from the Dancer’s club in the Cross. Grim asked them
if they were both partying hard tonight, to which they indicated they were, so
he popped an ‘E’ into each of their mouths.

Fox
had a white boob tube on and hot pants, that coupled with her knee high boots
and her long blond hair, made her look very provocative. 
Fake tits and tanned skin gave her that blond bimbo image that Grim was
overly fond of. Whilst he had begun talking to Fox, Kahled had wasted no time on
the other side, and had Cindy licking his neck and ear, while he was telling her
in Arabic how he was going to desecrate her body.  Harley and Grim only understood a few of the phrases but it
was still enough to have them in stitches. 

Lukey
went over with a large grin like the Cheshire cat. He started to talk but it
came out a thousand miles an hour, which made him difficult to understand.
Realizing he was being laughed at, he walked away a few paces and began his
techno dancing.  

Felix
joined them with a jug of J.D. and a few glasses and filled them up a drink
each, except for the chicks that were content with their bottles of water. Felix
was about 6’3” and a powerfully build Pommie. His long brown hair was in a
ponytail behind his thick neck. Felix was a childhood name he had been given
after the cartoon character and it had stuck and everyone had known him as that
since.

Felix
commented, “Selfish bastards, share some of the pussy around,” in his thick
pommie accent. 

Grim
called him close, “Go to that red head over there in the black top and tell
her I said to look after you.”

“Thanks
bro,” Felix said, as he walked over to the redhead, put his hand on her ass
and whispered into her ear. She turned to Grim, winked and began to play along
with Felix’s advances. Her name was Rach, a rough working girl originating
from Ballarat in Victoria, and had been of acquaintance with Grim on a number of
occasions.

Luke,
Nitro and Cody were dancing downstairs now with a group of chicks. They all
tried to stick together when they were out, as there is truth in safety in
numbers, but Cody and Nitro could look after themselves and hopefully keep Lukey
out of the shit.
 

Nitro
was an ex army party boy who couldn’t conform to the strict discipline that
was required. After a few minor indiscretions he was dismissed after dropping an
officer who had made it clear he was unhappy with Nitro’s antics. 

Cody
on the other hand was full of discipline. A light heavyweight Muay Thai
champion, he didn’t drink or touch drugs except the steroids he was constantly
pumping into himself. Cody was a personal trainer and had his head screwed on
when it came to matters financial or lifelong goals and expectations. His
success in the ring had gone to his head though, and he walked with the grace of
a territorial young lion, ready to challenge any who questioned his combative
prowess. 

Unbeknown
to the group, Nick’s cousin Omar was in D.C.s when the ambulance arrived.
Paramedics rushed into the club to remove the pummeled form of his cousin. It
wasn’t hard for him to piece together what had happened, after seeing the
group in the club only a short time prior. Enraged, Omar called Persian Sammy,
pleading for immediate revenge, detailing who was present with the group and the
message scrawled across Nick’s body. Deciding an immediate response was
required, Sammy told Omar he would be at D.C.s shortly to make a presence with
his crew, then they would make war. 

            Sammy
and his boys were high as kites when they entered Splash. 
Despite attempts by security to deny them entry, this Persian crew was
the closest thing to a superpower in the Oxford Street drug scene, other than
Grim’s crew, and were not to be trifled with either. They were the only other
crew that now had the nerve to fuck with them. Therefore there was no stopping
them as they barged in, followed by the ringing of the metal detector, as the
obviously large amount of metal on their persons sent it ballistic. There was no
disguising their intentions here. WAR. The large jackets they wore, and the
degree to which they had loaded themselves, was a good indication this shit was
going to be major. 

            When
the crowd saw the rival crew enter, it was as though there was a bomb about to
go off. The dance floor started clearing in anticipation of the upcoming event. 

Upon
seeing Sammy and his boys walking towards them Luke started.

“Hey,
it’s the fuckin’ camel herders, hear your brother had a little accident
man,” finishing off in a sarcastic chuckle.

Sammy
grimaced and drew his pistol. “Kill the motherfuckers.” Summing up the
situation quickly, the three of them advanced on the Persians, trying to wrestle
the assailants’ weapons off them before they could bring them into use, as
their own weapons would not be able to be brought into the equation in time.

Cody
held his opponent’s gun whilst planting a kick into his knee, the impact
instantly injuring it and forcing it to buckle. The Persian still managed to let
off a round, narrowly missing Cody and thundering into the roof harmlessly.
Pandemonium and chaos broke out through the crowd, rippling through it like a
wave of unseen fear. The remaining crowd, dispersed to any structure that would
act as a haven from the upcoming lead barrage all knew was imminent, after the
forecast the first shot gave. The Persian crew got in each other’s way mostly
in their haste to get a shot off, and thus half the crew was ineffective at the
very outset of the conflict, only being able to punch and kick at mainly Cody
and Luke.

Nitro
landed a huge blow on his attacker, shattering his nose and spraying blood in
all directions. Another attacker quickly nullified his joy by sending a bullet
that punctured through his shoulder.
 

Unaware
of the plight downstairs befalling their friends until the initial gunfire, the
four other comrades Grim, Kahled, Felix and Harley, quickly drew their own
firearms and headed to the stairs. Upon reaching them they hurtled down two at a
time simultaneously sending their own counter barrage. Fuelled by adrenalin the
first volley was mostly ineffective but one shot scored a hit in the torso of
one of the Persians.

            This
signaled time for the Persians to retreat. Not before Cody received a shot into
his hip. The force and the pain forced him to the ground bellowing in pain.

The
six Persians, their numerical advantage nullified, scampered out of the club as
quickly as their legs would carry them, knocking over a few of the clubs’
patrons, also trying to flee out the exit. The wounded Persian falling a few
paces behind.
 

Cody,
Nitro and Luke were in no condition for chase, but were seeing to their own and
each others’ injuries. The four others gave chase, guns drawn to punish the
enemies. The four exiting to find most of the group across the street but with
one target lagging behind. The wounded man turned with a look plastered across
his face, as though Death himself had given him the tap on the shoulder,
signaling his time was up.

Three
of the four rounds the group fired struck the Persian. The force forcing his
body to contort into an extremely unnatural position, as he struck the ground
and remained relatively still, his heart pumping the last of his precious
lifeblood across the dirty street. The other Persians unaware their companion
was lagging behind continued their plight oblivious at the time to the death of
their colleague.

            By
this time Cody, Lukey and Nitro had made their way painfully to the door. Grim
turned to Bal, one of the security guards he had known for some time, “Take
the security tapes of this shit out the front and burn the fuckers, take the
ones from inside with you, make sure there are no fuckin’ witnesses either.”
Bal gave a nod showing he understood his tasks and quickly hurried inside to see
to the tapes.

They
all ran to the alley behind D.C.s and hopped into Felix’s Landcruiser and
Grim’s new HSV. Grim gave Felix the keys to his joint.

“Head
to my joint while I wake up Dr K. and get him to see to these boys,” referring
to Cody, Luke and Nitro. Dr K. was a deregistered doctor who had helped them on
numerous occasions, he loved his coke and they bought steroids off him cheap,
that he purchased through a veterinarian friend.
 

The
loud thumping on his door quickly awakened the doctor. A weary looking Dr K.
cautiously peered around the side of the door to see who had disturbed his sleep
at this hour. 

“Kenny,
hey Dr K. man, open up quick, a couple of the boys have been shot and need some
help.” 

Realizing
who it was, Dr K. quickly ushered them inside and into his makeshift operating
room, set up in the tiled area of the house that was once a dining room. 

“You
boys are gonna have to tell me what’s happened so I can sort this shit out.”

After
getting a quick rundown, Dr K. handed a bandage to Grim and told him to apply it
to Nitro’s shoulder to help stem the blood flow. He had assessed Cody as
requiring more urgent attention and Lukey would have to wait.

            “Aaaarhh
… fuckin’ hell man, do you have to be so rough?” Cody bellowed.

“Well
what do you expect, I need an anesthetist for a job like this, the local
anesthetic won’t help too much. I have removed the bullet and done my best to
make it look like a puncture and not a bullet wound. Your best bet is to tell
them you impaled yourself on a metal spike somehow, I will leave the details up
to you but they’re gonna want an explanation for this. There are shattered
bone fragments throughout the wound, I can’t do much more from here, you’re
going to have to go to hospital, the other two’s wounds I can deal with.” 

“I
will take him then, you just deal with the other two and I will be back in a bit
to pick them up,” Grim said. 

After
taking Cody to the emergency room, he was quickly assessed as requiring surgery.
Grim was told he would not be allowed in the surgery and Cody would be there at
least a couple of days, minimum, from their quick assessment. Therefore he bade
his friend good bye and departed to check on his other mates welfare at the
dodgy home based surgery. 

Dr
K. had finished his operation on Nitro and had successfully removed the bullet
and stitched up the wound. It was more severe than his initial thoughts; 
the combination of drugs Nitro had taken during the night had obviously
helped his nerves, as he hadn’t gone into shock as was usually the case for a
wound of this severity and nature. Luke had received minor attention but
obviously the emphasis had been on ensuring Nitro received the assistance he
required. Grim told the doctor that he would pop by some time during the next
week and hook him up with a bag of coke for his troubles. The doctor was rapt in
this, but pretended he performed the operation out of his good nature and just
to help the boys out. They knew of his large coke habit though, and didn’t buy
a word of what he had said. 

            Dr
K’s association with the boys had started after being introduced to them from
a contact. He was requiring coke to support his habit. He had loved the product
and had supplied a few of his other business colleagues. The large incomes and
long hours had bred a drug culture in some private hospitals and a surprisingly
large number of doctors and nurses were into it. Thus Dr K. as they had come to
know him, had seen the untapped potential, and decided to supplement his already
large income with some dealings on the side. He was getting rid of plenty before
an incident, that he would barely divulge any details about transpired, and he
ended up being deregistered. 

Since
then he had been performing dodgy home based operations to try and support his
coke habit and had been seeking alternative employment. So whenever the boys
knocked on his door late at night he was more than happy to help them out as
they helped look after his needs. It was a beneficial arrangement for all and he
was smart enough to keep his mouth shut about the boys. 

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