When The Music's Over: The Death of SNS (CD)

[Veronica Strader]

Strader Estate-Compound
Houston, Texas
March 27th, 2021

The 6’10 290 lbs National Sgt At Arms out of the Houston based charter of the Bandido’s MC sits behind his desk in his private office in the ‘Whitehouse’ on the massive estate slash compound that his father had started to build before his death that he, Scott Nash Strader, finished. Scott had a successful wrestling career that started at the age of 33 in 1998 that put a couple dozen championships to his name, including being a World Champion five times. While the payouts for winning gold and signing big contracts would’ve made life comfortable for any normal person, it wasn’t enough for him. He had been an outlaw biker since his 20’s and that’s where he made the money that allowed him to invest and earn legit money. The outrageous amount of money he made pushing cocaine from South America and Heroin straight from the poppy fields of Asia was an accomplishment in itself, hiding it within the legal money he made in the stock market. Plus his career as a successful wrestler had worked out extremely well for him with being able to hide the drug money in plain sight.

Like most criminals, outlaws, and citizens of the underworld Scott didn’t come out of it without any vices or personal downfalls. Scott wasn’t a drug abuser, woman beater or anything like that; he liked his scotch which he drank like water, and enjoyed the company of beautiful women. Out of all the women in his life, he only ever truly loved two of them. He loved his longtime girlfriend and eventual wife, Amy Lee Strader, who was like a mother to Meghan in her teen years, but nothing ever compared to Lisa Anna Hayes (John and Tamika’s mother) and Elizabeth Thomas (Meghan's mother). Lisa died of cancer in 2010 and Liz (or Lizzie to her family and friends) died during Meghan’s birth had never left him as she was the love of his life. They grew up together, were as thick as thieves and while she married a mutual friend of theirs at the age of 18, it was one drunken night they had slept together which resulted in Meghan being conceived.

May 5th, 1985 he saw his “goddaughter” born and Lizzie die from complications during labour and it crushed him but his heart was full at the sight of the almost 8 pound baby girl born with a full head of raven hair like her mother's. Scott had always had a feeling Meghan was his (they have the same icy blue eyes that everyone willfully ignored) but Steven Smyth was a better man than he was and she was better off raised by him. The little raven-haired girl grew up with her “Uncle Scott” always around and he got to be a part of something he created with Liz.

Scott made a lot of poor choices that are way too long to list but at the top of the list was separating Meghan from her children. By hiding the fact Cara was delivered shortly after her passing out from delivering Victoria, he was able to sell the mini-me version of his daughter. He thought it was best because he knew if Meghan had known she had twins she never would've have separated them. He couldn’t allow the evil that was the Knox family of yore to know about the children of their son, Matthew Knox. While it eventually turned out Meghan had a very rare set of twins that had two different fathers (he didn’t know that at the time) and he did what he thought was best which was not only to protect his grandchildren but also his daughter. He also wanted his oldest child to not go through whatever pain that Diogenes’ and Matthew’s "father" and uncle had planned for the baby girls. The moment Scott made that call, it cost him any form of a healthy and loving relationship he could have possibly had with her as that guilt stayed with him. Anytime it started to go well, he would fuck it up; whether it was conscious or not it was so he could keep that secret buried.

He was on one of his throwaway/burner cell phones and wasn’t happy. He flipped it closed and slid it into the inside of his Bandido denim kutte letting out a frustrated sigh. He ran his massive left hand through his dirty blonde (and greying) hair before getting up and walking over to the minibar he had custom-built and began pouring himself a glass of an expensive single malt scotch. He gulps down the golden liquid and refills what he drank before he walks over to his Bose Stereo system tuning it to 107.5 The Eagle, Houston’s Classic rock. “When The Music’s Over” starts to play, and he closes his eyes listening to the stylings of four hippies on acid when a familiar female voice echoes through the room.

“The song is… fitting.”

The big man turns around to see his oldest grandchild, Victoria, leaning against the frame of the doorway. She looks different he can’t help but notice; a flicker of flames behind her glasz coloured eyes and the ponytail she was always wearing was out and her blonde highlighted brunette hair fell over her shoulders.

“Victoria, what are you doing here? I didn’t think you’d want to see me,” he says followed by a sip of whiskey as he returns to his high back leather chair, sitting once again at his desk.

She lets out a laugh as she walks in, closing the door behind her. He thinks she's here about Maxine Riggs, her ex-girlfriend, the woman he started sleeping with while she was still with her but he would soon find out that was only part of it. 

“I have no excuse darlin', it just happened, it was an accident,” he says to her, and if it meant anything at all he wasn’t lying. It wasn’t intentional, at least on his part. The line makes her scoff but it’s followed by a smirk and a question.

“What? She slipped, fell and landed on your dick?” she asks as she walks by his display case filled with the replicas of his favourite championship belts throughout his career, the WIWA Intercontinental in the middle. She turns to look at him and raises her brow. “What, no response?”

“Just not used to hearing you speak like that, that’s all. Actually, it kinda reminds me of your grandma, Liz,” he sadly says, thinking about Meghan’s mother.

“I am going to let you in on a little secret, gramps-who-can’t-keep-his-dick-in-his-leather-chaps,” she says as she helps herself to some of his scotch, which kinda throws the old man as Victoria was more a fan of rye, like her mother. “You know Matthew Knox, Queen Machine Jenny, and Supreme Machine?”

Scott’s heart jumps a beat at the mention of Knox but his hardened poker face he adapted over his years from doing thousands of drug deals, arms deals, wars with other 1%ers and law enforcement interrogations had helped him keep his cards close to his chest.

“What about them?” he asks, hiding his genuine nervousness the best he can. Victoria sits down in one of the two chairs in front of his desk.

“I know the Birdman is my dad, so don’t even try to deny it,” she says in a blunt tone.

“Do your mom and Cara know?” he asks, not even bothering to deny it.

“No, they don’t know. It wouldn’t matter to Cara anyway, he isn’t her father,” she replies, her tone of voice level and calm. “Her daddy is your old enemy, Ryan “Sparkplug” Gaudet.”

Scott can no longer hide his emotions as his eyes betray him and they show the shock along with a fear that the secret is finally out and wasn’t exactly what he thought it was either. 

“How do you know all this, Victoria?” he inquires, watching her closely, especially her eyes. She takes a sip of the whiskey and smiles at him.

“Well just to clear the air on that… my name isn’t Victoria, it’s Veronica, and I have known since the day we were born,” she casually reveals. Scott doesn’t say anything and lets her talk. “You know how Supreme Machine and his sister, Queen Machine Jenny, seem to have dual personalities and speak in the way of “we, us” when referring to themselves?” Scott simply nods to confirm he knows that. “Well, it’s from an affliction that runs in their bloodline… our bloodline, mine and Victoria’s.”

“Wait, those two whack jobs are related to your father?”

Veronica laughs and shakes her head but not in disagreement.

“Yes. The difference between us all? I love Victoria with my whole being while the afflictions aren’t fans of Tom or Jennifer. Without her, I wouldn’t exist and that is something I’ll never forget. You see, when Victoria is back in control she won’t even remember this conversation as I haven’t made her aware I exist… yet. It’s to protect her from what’s coming.”

Somehow he knows his maker is finally within striking distance and even if he knows he could overpower his granddaughter, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her any more than he already has, even if it meant he was about meet St. Peter or maybe Lucifer himself. It wasn’t about him anymore.

“I would do anything for her and the amount of pain she is in… after losing her adoptive parents just three years ago, the last thing she needed was her grandfather bending over her girlfriend and clapping those cheeks like a standing ovation,” her words turned frosty and the tone matched.

“You crushed her heart, betrayed her trust and the hurt hasn’t faded. Being around your son has helped but every time she tunes to watch her friend in Uprising who is actually her dad, she sees you and Maxine and the pain that runs through her body and heart… I feel it, Scott. I feel it with every fibre of her being… and mine.”

Her right hand comes to her forehead as she massages the centre of her brow. Scott leans back in his chair and lowers his head, the random grey hairs falling over his forehead. He’s crying, and he hasn’t cried since Tamika and John’s mother died over ten years ago.

“Vict— Veronica, I am sorry. I have no excuse for what happened between myself and Max. It wasn’t something I planned to do. It wasn’t like I woke up one morning and went ‘Hey, I should fuck my first grandchild’s girlfriend’. If I could take it back, I would,” he says, and despite knowing the kind of man he was, the kind who hurt his children and the women in his life consistently, Veronica believed him. Victoria would’ve too if she was present.

“But you can’t, can you? No, not at all. There isn’t any time machine or a way to bend the time-space continuum… this is real life, and real-life has real-life consequences, doesn’t it Scott?”

He nods slowly in agreement.

“Sometimes it just takes a minute or a couple of decades for karma to catch up. I guess it finally has caught up with me,” he says quietly, the last few words trailing off. Veronica tilts her head to the right looking into the icy blue eyes he passed down to Meghan and John.

“Not going to beg for your life?” the words would drip with venom but they were as icy as the man's eyes in front of her. She knew he knew what was about to happen. He shakes his head 'no'.

“No, I am not. Honestly, the fact I made it this long is surprising. It’s only fitting my firstborn’s firstborn is the one to end my reign of pain and sorrow. How many times I have asked that question to the people I have killed...” he trails off again, but takes a deep breath, keeping his composure. He was going to die like a man. “I would request that your mom nor your aunt find me… or my mother but I know that’s an impossible task.”

Veronica looks up at the clock on the wall and it was just after 2 pm CST.

“Not entirely impossible. Most likely be the help that does,” she says softly but without any sort of emotion. She reaches into her purse pulling out a sterling silver Desert Eagle .50 calibre handgun followed by a black silencer. Scott looks at the weapon and nods with approval.

“Well, that was always my gun of choice, it will do the job,” he remarks with a weird sense of pride a normal man wouldn’t have in this situation. He watches her screw the silencer on, and drop the clip to make sure it was full. “If you ever decide to come clean to the family… tell my son I am proud of the club he built. I am proud of Tamika for being the amazing mom she is and such a loyal daughter. I am proud of Victoria and Cara for becoming the women they are… and tell Meghan I am sorry for all the pain I put her through for my own selfish wants and I am beyond proud of the amazing woman she has always been.”

Veronica stands up and walks around to the other side of the desk, standing on his left side, she raises the gun up, bringing the business end of the silencer to the back of his head. He hears the hammer click. The Strader Sneer appears across his lips one last time.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be able to have an open casket. I am not a complete monster. Go ahead and finish your scotch,” she says, but truly that was a lie. She is a monstrosity.

He lifts the glass to lips and downs the last drink he would ever have.

“Rest in peace, Scott.”

Scott watched his life flash before his eyes seeing Meghan being born, being told her mother didn’t survive labour, learning about the existence of the twins', John and Tamika, getting his bottom rocker with the Bandido’s MC, receiving his Sgt At Arms flash, all the men he killed over the years, his first world championship, his last world championship, and finally on a family portrait when Victoria and Cara came back home to the family.

THWIP THWIP

Time felt like it slowed for the Affliction and Veronica watched the Patriarch of the family slump forward, his head falling forward smacking down onto his desk, lifeless. Veronica tilts her head to the right, and with her left-hand wipes some of his blood and brain matter from her face very casually, like it was only water.

“You’ll never hurt them again. You will never hurt Victoria again,” she says to the lifeless corpse of Scott Nash Strader. She looks up at the clock and back down to him. “Sorry Meghan, but you are the fall gal.”

Veronica worked quickly to plant blood she collected after her mother had donated to a mobile clinic that came to the estate a few days ago and carefully wipes down the gun she took from Meghan’s Ranch home on the estate. She picks up her glass of scotch, taking a moment to smell it as some of the blood she missed drips off her face into the glass causing a ripple of red in the golden brown liquid. She takes it down just like her grandfather did his in one gulp.

“Victoria, nor I, will take the fall for this. Goodbye, Scott.”

She carefully moves some of his hair behind his ear with her left hand knuckle to look at his wide-open icy blue eyes one last time, even if they were devoid of life.

~Fin~