Chopper moved into position. The skinhead was still bent double. Bringing up his knee, Chopper felt with satisfaction the scrunch of broken bone as the kid's nose made contact. The kid went down, while blows from boots rained upon his body. He lay groaning, spitting out gouts of deep red blood and pieces of broken teeth. "Don't ever pull a blade on an Angel," snapped Freaky before they left the kid. "It's not friendly."
This is the story of Chopper, of his bike, his pills, his girls and his violent bid for gang leadership.
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