For a long moment, there was no sound except the ticking of the hot engines and the wind whipping through the desert scrub. Dutch looked at the bruises on my ribcage, the welt on my forehead, and the ruined shirts hanging off my shoulders. Then, his eyes locked onto the JUDGE - 01 tattoo.
Dutch slowly sank to the ground. Both of his knees hit the gravel with a heavy, respectful thud. He bowed his head, resting his hands flat on his thighs in total submission.
“Greetings, Judge,” Dutch whispered, his voice trembling slightly with genuine reverence.
The moment the words left Dutch’s mouth, a heavy, synchronized sound echoed through the entire parking lot. Every single one of the hundred elite bikers who had just arrived dismounted their machines in unison. Without a word of hesitation, they dropped to one knee, bowing their heads toward me.
The only people left standing were Kellen, his dozen Iron Kings, and the waitress Maria, peering through the diner window.
Tank immediately dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands. Skiv followed, trembling violently.
Kellen stood completely alone. His chest heaved as panic finally pierced his arrogance. He looked at Dutch kneeling in the dirt. He looked at his own men groveling. Then, he looked at me.
I didn't ask for help up. I didn't rush. I slowly pushed myself up from the gravel, feeling the sharp twinge of my cracked ribs, and stood tall. I grabbed the torn halves of my flannel shirt and tied them loosely around my waist.
“Get up, Dutch,” I said, my voice cutting clearly through the desert wind.
Dutch immediately stood, retrieving his cane, keeping his eyes lowered respectfully.
“I told you not to contact me,” I said.
“I apologize, Judge,” Dutch said quickly, keeping his hands open. “Your beacon flared. The Council protocol is absolute. We thought you were under fire from a rival network. I didn’t know…” Dutch trailed off, looking with utter disgust at Kellen. “I didn't know it was our own dogs snapping at the master.”
“Dutch, what is going on?!” Kellen shouted, his voice cracking wildly. He pointed an accusing finger at me. “Who the hell is this guy? Why are you bowing to him? He’s nobody!”
Dutch turned slowly to look at the young man. The pity in Dutch’s eyes was more terrifying than hatred.
“You stupid, arrogant boy,” Dutch said softly. “You bought your patch. You think it gives you the world. The man you just forced to kneel… he wrote the charter you wear on your back. Thirty years ago, he established the Iron Kings. And when the old charters wouldn't fall in line, he was the man the Council sent to ensure obedience. He was the executioner of our laws. He is the sole Arbiter of life and death in this Syndicate.”
Kellen’s hand fell to his side. His eyes widened, taking in the full measure of the mistake he had made. The myth wasn't a bedtime story. The monster was real, and Kellen had spent the last thirty minutes violently kicking its cage.
“I…” Kellen stammered, taking a desperate step backward. He looked at Tank. Tank wouldn't make eye contact. Kellen looked at the circle of a hundred silent, dangerous men trapping him in. “I didn't know. He didn't tell me! He was just sitting there!”
“Ignorance of the law,” I said, stepping toward Kellen, “does not excuse breaking it.”
Kellen flinched, holding his hands up defensively. All the swagger, all the cruel arrogance he had displayed when he poured scalding coffee on a passive old man, evaporated entirely. He was just a terrified kid who had picked a fight with a mountain, unaware of the avalanche waiting above.
“I warned you,” I continued, stopping inches from him. “I gave you every opportunity to let me walk out of that diner. You chose to escalate. You touched my machine. You threatened what I carry.”
I glanced at the urn secured to my bike. The thought of Kellen’s filthy hands touching Sarah’s final resting place extinguished the last embers of my restraint.
“Judge,” Dutch interjected respectfully. “The Council grants you absolute authority here. What is the verdict?”
I looked at Kellen’s spotless, expensive Chopper parked a few feet away. I looked at the heavy studded boots Kellen had used to kick my ribs.