Thread: Ah, Family {<Tyr and Crimson>}

The road slid beneath Bulls chopper as he accelerated through the corners, making his way home. The old Harley Davidson's motorcycle was sounding good as he dropped down a gear and sped past some tourist going too slow for his liking. The sun was out and sky nearly clear of clouds, the wind against one face, a perfect day to ride. Without a helmet his long brown wavy hair whipped in the wind, as he enjoyed his freedom, the helmet tied to the side of his bike, for the states that broke your balls about wearing one. It wasnt that long ago that hed been in the pen looking at a set of bar, and his only glimmer of sky, was when they allowed him into the exercise area. Bull could appreciate his freedom now, well at least while it lasted. Over the years hed been in and out of the prison system going all the way back to juvenile hall. Still, he was out jail, and that's all that mattered. The worn black leather jacket offered some defense against the wind as he accelerates away from the glaring tourists. Most people found his 63 260lb physique intimidating, in conjunction with the rest of his attire. The jacket had a burning skull with wings on the back, indicating his membership in a biker gang. His worn blue jeans, were covered by a set of dark leather riding chaps, the only thing exposed was his tall pair of black riding boots. Till just a day ago, hed been working in a bike shop, living in the back till he got himself some money together. The shop offered him an opportunity to fix up his bike and get it running, while having a place to crash. The bike was just finished when hed gotten from his family that his mom had died. Even though he really couldnt care less about his family, his mom had always stood by him in good times and bad. Father had always been an asshole, and being in prison, hed had the perfect reason not to attend his funeral, when he died. Now, though he wanted to attend and say goodbye to his mother, and fuck the family if they were going to give him a ration of shit. So Connor Bull Tillman headed home. Even though he was 34 he felt good, all those hours working out in the exercise yard had done him well. He was in good shape, wouldnt win a muscle contest, but sure was toned. Though a casual observer couldnt see it, his body was adorned by a variety of tattoos. The light of the sun glinted off his earring as he turned to watch a convertible go by with a fine looking girl in it. The man driving didnt notice at first that the girl next to him was turning and smiling at Bull. Turning his head bull smiled back at the young girl, in a manner that directly eluded to his thoughts. Though she couldn't see the way his eyes undressed her, thought the dark sunglasses he wore. The man realized something was going on and turned to see Bull driving directly alongside his car, the driver jerks the wheel and almost loses control. Bull just smiles and continues on, he would see the two arguing in the car through his mirror. That was one thing he was really looking forward to was a steady girl, not one of the sluts that fucked anyone in the gang that needed a place to put their dick, or the whores that they sold drugs to. Given he didnt have a place, or really that much money, he still was looking, plus not just any girl worked for him, he needed one that could put and appreciate his proclivity for wild unadulterated sex. The hours passed quickly as the hills and trees all took on the familiarity of home. These were the places he haunted for many a year, and called home. Though home now was the gang, and the road, and not anyone place or person. Still as much as his life was filled with trouble, he did have fond memories of this area for the most part. It wasnt long till the driveway to his moms house approached. He let off the gas and braked, a bit of dusk flying as he came to a stop. Stepping off the bike, he shifted the knife at his hip, and the long metal chain that went from her wallet to his belt. He stretched for a moment, working the kinks of road out, tilting his neck and cracking it. The leather gloves on his hands only extend to the first knuckle, leaving the remainder of his fingers exposed, as he cracked them. Finally satisfied, he looked around as he made his way up and onto the front porch. He wondered who would be home, if anyone. Lifting his hand he raps on the door, seeing if anyone is home.