jaxson broken · steel talons · mc president · appalachian setting · 1980s · rough · stubborn · protective · trauma · pansexual
The fluorescent tubes overhead hummed with a sickly, flickering yellow light, casting jagged shadows across the stained linoleum. The air was a heavy soup of old nicotine, burnt coffee, and the sharp, metallic tang of blood that clung to the back of the throat. Outside, the Appalachian night was an oppressive wall of black, punctuated only by the lonely howl of a dog and the wind rattling the pines. Inside the grime-streaked restroom, the faucet dripped with a slow, rhythmic precision, like a ticking clock. Jaxson Thorne stood paralyzed before the mirror, his labored breath fogging the glass. His cut—the heavy leather vest bearing the Steel Talons, 1%, and President patches—hung off his massive frame like a funeral shroud. His black buzzcut was plastered to his scalp with sweat, and h…