Beaten Teenager Sat In Front Of My Harley And Begged Me To Save His Brother

With tears running down his wounded face, the adolescent sat down right in front of my Harley at the red light and refused to move.

This child, who was perhaps fifteen years old and still wearing his school backpack, just sat there on the scorching asphalt and looked up at me with frantic eyes while cars behind me began honking and drivers shouted profanities.

Even though I’d been riding for sixty-three years, I’d never seen somebody literally put themselves in front of my bike to prevent me from getting off.

He was trying to show me a crumpled piece of paper, but his hands were shaking so much that he could hardly grasp it, his lip was split, and his left eye was swollen shut.

He gasped, “Please.” “You really ride a bike, don’t you? I see patches. I need help, please. They intend to murder him.

The light changed to green. Honking more. I couldn’t take my eyes off this child’s face even though someone yelled at me to “move your damn bike.”

“Whom did you kill?I turned off my engine and asked.

His hand was shaking as he held up the paper. It was a phone-printed picture of a different adolescent, perhaps no older than thirteen, bound up in what appeared to be a basement. The guy in front of me and the child in the picture were both dressed in the identical school outfit.

“My sibling. I refused to join their gang, so they took my brother. said, “They’ll… if I don’t bring them $10,000 by tonight.” He was unable to complete.

“I noticed your vest. I have heard my dad say that bikers are good for children. Before dad passed away, he advised me to locate the bikers if I ever needed assistance and was unable to contact the police.

I ignored the irate drivers who were eventually driving by as I helped the child stand up and rode my bike to the sidewalk. I could see more up close than simply the evident thrashing he had received.

Older bruises with fading edges were also present. He had previously fought.

“What’s your name?I inquired.

“Marcus. Marcus Chen.

I felt sick to my stomach. That was a name I recognized. My biker mates were all familiar with that name.

David Chen had been a police officer, one of the good ones who did more than just get paid to patrol the streets.

Those of us who cycled these streets knew better than to believe the department’s claim that he was slain in a “random shooting” two years prior.

David had been on the verge of revealing a narcotics conspiracy that included police officers and other prominent individuals.

“David Chen was your father?”

Marcus nodded, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You were acquainted with him?”

He once assisted my grandson. I took out my phone and said, “Gave him a second chance and got him out of a bad situation without arresting him.” “How long ago was your brother taken by them?”

“This morning. from the school. His voice broke, “They just grabbed him at lunch.” “I’m to blame. For months, they had been urging me to join and serve as their runner. said I owed them money for the expenses my father caused them when he was living.

The other Iron Wolves were already receiving my texts. Responses began to pour in within seconds.

“Where?”

“How many?”

“I’m on my way.”

Who exactly has your brother, Marcus?”

“The Serpents of Eastside.” Venom is the name of their leader. Their real name is Tyler Morrison.

Morrison was someone I knew. Because he owned a few blocks and had several adolescents selling for him, the 25-year-old believed he was tough. Last year, he made the error of attempting to recruit one of our members’ grandkids. We had discussed it in a “conversation” with him. He had apparently not learned.

“They use the former warehouse on Pier 47 for their operations?”

Marcus’s gaze expanded. “How were you aware?”

I took another look at the picture and said, “Son, the Iron Wolves are aware of pretty much everything that occurs in this city.” Wasn’t this taken today?”

“An hour ago. To establish they had him, they sent it.

It buzzed on my phone. “Eight brothers en route,” said Rex. Ten minutes.

Snake then added, “Bringing tools.”

In our vernacular, “tools” meant more than just wrenches.

I need you to pay close attention, Marcus. We’re heading somewhere safe, and you’re going to hop on the back of my bike. After that, my brothers and I will retrieve your little brother.

“I’d like to accompany you—”

“No.” I interrupted him. “You must stay safe and alive for your brother.” Your father lost his life defending this city. Don’t kill yourself to negate the value of his sacrifice.

We arrived at our clubhouse, an old tavern that we had purchased and renovated years prior, twenty minutes later.

With seventeen Iron Wolves huddled about him, Marcus sat at a table with a cup of coffee he wasn’t sipping.

Even though the majority of us were in our sixties or seventies, we had all witnessed action in Afghanistan, Vietnam, or Desert Storm. We may have poor knees and gray beards, but we know how to deal with this kind of thing.

Our president, Rex, looked at the picture. “Basement windows are visible. Okay, that’s the former Pier 47 warehouse. He is most likely being kept in the storage area below.

How many serpents are we referring to?Tank, our sergeant-at-arms, inquired.

I said, “Usually between eight and ten during the day.” “More at night.”

Snake went on, “And they’re expecting Marcus to come alone with money.” This implies that they won’t be anticipating us.

Rex gave Marcus a look. Did they mention the time, son?”

“Eight p.m. claimed to arrive at the back entrance by themselves.

Rex looked at his timepiece. Three o’clock

PM. “All right, we won’t wait. He turned to the others and said, “That kid is in greater danger the longer he stays there.” This is not a matter for a vote. Nobody is being told to do this by me. It might become unsightly.

All the men rose.

For the boy of David Chen? Absolutely.

“That police officer kept my nephew out of jail.”

“These jerks must learn.”
Rex gave a nod. “All right. However, we do this cleverly. No needless violence. We pick up the child and leave.

All bets were off, though, if they had injured that thirteen-year-old, as I could see in everyone’s eyes.

At 4 PM, we rode out in formation with 18 bikes, our engines roaring off buildings. On the walkways, people paused to gaze. A few people snapped photos. We had no intention of being subtle. Notifying your adversary of your impending arrival is sometimes the wisest course of action.

As anticipated, the warehouse was dilapidated, with primarily boarded windows that were ideal for concealing illicit activity. However, the Serpents had committed a critical error. They had settled down. Just two lookouts, both of whom are more preoccupied with their phones than keeping an eye out for trouble.

Three groups were formed. Five brothers followed Rex to the front. Tank took a back seat. Four of us, including Snake, headed for the side basement entrance.

Perhaps nineteen years old, the lookout at the side door was dressed in serpentine hues and made an effort to appear tough. He grabbed his phone as soon as he noticed us approaching. Before he could dial, Snake’s hand clamped down on his wrist.

“One chance,” Snake muttered. “Where is Chen’s child?”

The child attempted to be tough. “I’m not sure what—”

The snake squeezed. The child let out a yell.

“Basement. The last room. Venom is observing him.

How many other people are inside?”

Six. Perhaps seven.

Snake covered the child’s mouth with duct tape, zip-tied his hands and legs, and abandoned him beside a dumpster. “Dreams of sweetness.”

In fifteen seconds, Hammer got the locking basement door unlocked. A dim light at the end of a corridor led us down into the gloom. I heard two voices: one young and scared, and one mature.

The adult voice declared, “Your brother is a coward.” “Not even capable of saving his own family.”

The young voice, attempting to seem brave, answered, “He’ll come.” “He always keeps me safe.”

“Yes? As if your father had shielded you? Take a look at the outcome.

We walked down the hallway in silence. I could see them through a broken door. Marcus had informed me that the thirteen-year-old, Jeremy, was strapped to a chair but appeared to be unhurt other than some bruises. Trying to look threatening to a child, Venom, who was in his mid-twenties and had neck tattoos, stood over him.

There were three other Serpents present, and they were all intent on their leader’s performance.

My earpiece crackled with Rex’s voice. “Keep your front safe. Two down.

Tank: “Keep your behind safe. Two down.

These four were left.

Snake first displayed three fingers, then two, and finally only one.

We rushed in. We were on the Serpents before they could even turn. We didn’t need guns, therefore no. Just fists supported by decades of experience and furious rage from sixty-year-olds.

Venom attempted to draw a blade. I spun, grabbed his wrist, and heard the delightful break. He let out a cry and fell.

All four Serpents were on the ground, consciousness optional, in thirty seconds.

Jeremy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Who—who are you?”

“Your father’s friends,” I murmured, releasing his restraints. “Your brother is waiting for you as well.”

The child’s strong exterior broke down as he began to cry. “I assumed… I assumed nobody was coming.”

Snake raised the child to his feet and remarked, “Iron Wolves always come.” “Are you able to walk?”

After giving a nod, Jeremy turned to face Venom, who was moaning on the ground. He threatened to murder me. said that no one gave a damn about two orphans.

I made sure Venom could see my face well when I knelt next to him.

“The Iron Wolves are now protecting these children. When you or any members of your crew approach them again, the events of today will seem like a mild massage in comparison to what will happen next. You get it?”

He gave a desperate nod.

Rex said from the doorway, “And just to be clear, we have pictures of everything in this warehouse.” The weapons, the drugs, and the fascinating documents in your office.

The feds can obtain everything with a single phone call. You are covered by the Chen boys. We remain silent while they remain safe. They suffer injuries. He shrugged. “Well, young gang leaders have a difficult time in federal prison.”

We abandoned them there, humiliated and devastated. With his arms firmly around my waist, Jeremy rode alongside me, and Snake rode his bike behind us. The child remained silent and hung on as if I could vanish if he released me.

The brothers’ reunion at the clubhouse was just what you would have expected. Marcus was crying uncontrollably as he apologized and examined Jeremy for any wounds. Jeremy insisted that he knew Marcus would find a way and that he was OK.

“How?Marcus questioned us. “What did you do? They were armed, they were—

“They were young and afraid,” Rex stated plainly. “We had a purpose and experience. significant difference.

Until we could decide what to do next, we kept the boys in the clubhouse. They had been living with an elderly aunt who could hardly care for herself, let alone keep children safe from gangs, and they had no parents.

Our bartender and unofficial club mother, Linda, then raised her voice. Her husband Tom was one of our members, and he said, “They can stay with me and Tom.” Since our children moved out, we have the space. The boys also require a genuine home.

Marcus appeared in disbelief. Would you do that? You’re not even familiar with us.

Tom remarked, “We knew your father.” He was a decent man who lost his life defending others. He attempted to protect everyone, and his sons should have the same protection.

Now, six months have passed. Tom and Linda, who became their foster parents last month, are the parents of Marcus and Jeremy. After high school, Marcus intends to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a police officer. Jeremy’s smile has increased after joining the school’s basketball squad.

Approximately one week following our visit, the Eastside Serpents quietly disbanded. Venom and his group simply vanished one night; they most likely reasoned that federal jail was preferable to waiting to see if we would return.

The boys have dinner at the clubhouse every Sunday. Jeremy assists with bike maintenance while learning from men who are old enough to be his grandfather. Surrounded by leather-clad veterans, Marcus studies in the bar and takes quizzes on his assignments.

Marcus turned eighteen last week. Our surprise was his father’s badge, which we had been working on and had obtained from the department. It was displayed in a shadow box with a picture of David and a plaque that read, “Officer David Chen – A Hero’s Legacy Lives On.”

Marcus sobbed. As tough old bikers, we all dabbed at our eyes.

I said to him, “Your dad would be proud.” “Just as he protected this city, you protected your brother.”
Marcus remarked, “Without you, I couldn’t have done it.” “Not including the Iron Wolves.”

“That’s our purpose,” Rex stated. “To stand for people who are unable to stand by themselves.”

“Dad always said real strength wasn’t about being tough,” Jeremy continued quietly, sporting an Iron Wolves support shirt we had given him. The goal was to safeguard those in need.

The child was correct. For the sake of two orphaned youngsters, seventeen-year-old motorcycle riders formed a street gang.

Those lads needed someone to support them when the world had turned its back on them, not because we were tough.

That adolescent who, in an attempt to save his sibling, sat down in front of my Harley that day and wouldn’t get up?

He reminded us of the reasons we continue to bike and wear these patches. It has nothing to do with becoming rebels or criminals. When someone needs us, especially when no one else will be, we should be there.

The Chen lads are now relatives, not members, Iron Wolves. Safe. cherished. Given the possibility, their father died in an attempt to provide for them.

I would like to imagine that David Chen is gazing down from above, knowing that his boys are secure because they are surrounded by tough, elderly bikers who will stop at nothing to keep them safe.

That is the definition of brotherhood. That is the definition of honor.

For him, his brother, and several elderly riders who were reassured that we still had strength for the battles that truly counted, a frantic youngster sitting in front of my bike that day was the nicest thing that could have occurred.