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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

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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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