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Letter to Summer
My dearest Summer,
Just landed in Vancouver and I had to write to you. It’s hard to have you at last in my life but then have to leave like this and not take you with me, but I promise to return as soon as I can.
Not much to share just yet as all I have done is fly on a fucking plane. Which, btw, is stupid how they train these fucking new pilots. WW1 they were learning essentially rocket science and those guys came back with so few issues. We almost got grounded because some pussy ass bitch pilot got a seagull or something in the intake leaving the runway. Whatever, I made it, I’m fine.
Meeting Jeep in a couple hours.
I’ll let you know how that goes.
You are in my heart always and I dream dreams of great beauty as you are in them.
I love you.
Kilroy
#kilroy warhier#tssf#sinister sons#gtav#gtavrp#gta v roleplay#gta v rp#sinistersons#sinistersonsmc#dreamscapeRP
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The Response
Dirt kicked up into the air as his wheels tore through the unkempt roads of Sandy Shores. He was crossing the last stretch before the dirt paths that lead to his home. The events of the last week kept him distracted but his bike was his solace in these times. He’d taken it for a ride. No real destination, just to clear his mind. The roar of his engine and the crunch of dirt under rubber always seemed to help. As he at last turned the corner and stowed his machine, he stepped into their trailer.
The carpeted steps cushioned his foot falls as he climbed them into the bedroom. Although, the whole house was in fact a bedroom with a kitchen attached, it was still his home. And the people he shared it with only made it more so.
He kicked off his boots and carefully hung his kutte, despite the lack of reaper, he still cared for it. He grumbled about the damn delivery trucks being delayed and how this fucking truckers union strike was the bane of his very existence. But he held his kutte in high regard. As did everyone so honoured to wear the Red Reaper.
He dropped onto the couch and pulled out his phone to stare, once again, at the email from Jeep. He had been mulling the name over now for the last 2 weeks. Still trying to remember, even an inkling of who the damn hell that was meant to be. He’d even started a few drafted response.
One had said “Dear Jeep, who in the actual fuck are you? How the hell did you get this email?”
and another “Jeep, I don’t think I know you, are you sure I am who you think I am?”
and even another had said “New phone, who dis?”
But he had deleted them all. None of it worked for him. He’d already narrowed this man down to being during the time Azrael had taken control completely, and even the fire burning behind the sunglasses in the photo had told him that. But the certainty of the tone of the email... He had to know and he was very much out of other ideas.
He started typing:
Jeep,
It’s been a very long time and I’m sorry to say this to a man I’d have seen as a brother, but I cannot recall our time together. I know that if we both made it home, it’s clear neither of us dies easily. And although I find myself struggling to recall your name, I know your face. It’s in a distant fog, and I may be suffering from amnesia. Could you maybe shed some more light on our story for me?
Forever your long lost brother,
Kilroy
He put down the phone, thought for a moment, then just hit send. It was done. Now all he had to do was wait.
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When she is his everything, and he her world, everyday is another in paradise.
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One night…
He woke in the night. He didn’t know what time it was, but it’s not like it would change his reality. He tosses and turned for a time, but realizing he could wake Summer and Mari, he decided to get up instead. He moved mari’s arm from his chest and summer’s leg from his own as he slid out of bed and grabbed the nearby pack of smokes and his lighter. Since he was awake anyways.
He crossed the room to the sectional in the far corner, taking care to remain as silent as he could. He quickly lit up and drew a slow and deep drag of his dart and tossed the pack onto the coffee table. Letting his head fall back onto the top of the cushions he closed his eyes, letting the wave of calm that came from that first hit wash over him for a moment.
He cast his eyes around the dark basement that he and Summer had bought only a short time ago. Their new home was far from finished. So many things to unpack and place. Their whole lives in boxes strewn about. And not to mention Mari’s. She’d joined them shortly after they’d bought the place. This caused him to smirk. That’s right, they were 3 and they were living in a basement as their upper floor was in need of renovations. What a pain in the ass.
But what a life he was living. The woman he’d wanted from over a year ago had come back to him. And with her, her girl, now his as well. His club was settling into their new city. Getting acquainted with the other clubs and meeting new organizations every day. Earning enough to feed them and get them riding on their machines. And their ranks were growing. Slowly, but that was good. Too quickly, and influence could become an issue. They weren’t ready to pop yet, thank fuck for that, but he had to hope that was in no small part to the bond of true kinship his brothers and sisters shared with him and each other.
He took another drag and let the cigarette rest on his lips while he took out his phone. He began the doom scroll through birdie. Same usual things of engagements, cars, clubs and gangs, police activities, and the like. It was the same everywhere they went.
He made sure to post something about the Sons before he switched to his emails. Ads, memos, announcements from family all filled his inbox. As well a-
“What the?” He found himself muttering out loud. What was this one?
It was the strangest thing he’d ever seen. Because in this one email, was a name he’d never seen before and picture that wasn’t possible. It wasn’t… was it?
The picture depicted two men, dressed in combat fatigues. From the military action in Korea. But those photographs existed a plenty. But not like this, the photo had 2 names. Sgt Kilroy Warhier and specialist Eugene “jeep” Overby.
The body of the email read: You aren’t easy to find because you never stay still, but if you’re ready to talk about what happened, I’m ready too brother.
Signed, Jeep
Kilroy let the last of the ash fall from his smoke as he crushed it in the ashtray. He stared at the photo of the two men. Himself and his best friend. And as he stared… he still had no idea who “Jeep” was. This man… was from Azrael’s first time in full control.
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He waited, and she found him. They may not be where they first met, but he will always hold her close, and she will always have his heart
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Feb 24
A couple days ago, well, I guess almost a week now, Lily hosted her first fight night event at Church of Syn. It was pretty well attended by event standards for the city, and since I had supplied the prize, naturally, I had to fight.
But what I didn’t expect, was just how good Thor was going to be at it. Like, I’ve fought Thor before. Many times in fact. I usually beat him, but they were always close fights. But the thing is, I’ve always been able to fight my best, Thor was on a new level this time, he kicked my ass. Plain and simple. I do miss fighting against my brothers from the past, but sometimes I forget just how good they all are.
On the note of people I hadn’t seen in a long time, Miguel came around that same day. Damn it was good to see him again. The guy who put me forward into the hangaround vision of the Sons was now in my city, talking to me, while I’m wearing my president’s flash… it just made things feel surreal. He sold me his old sovereign so I could have a good real bike, and here I was giving him his first in my city.
Just felt like a full circle thing to me. But then it went further. The man spoke of he and Thor’s path forward. Nomads of Condemned MC, with no clear goal or path forward. I remember that feeling.
The one that I felt when I made my choice to put a knife through my own patch and kutte on the table. The day I sent the message to Jager, and the day I didn’t know where to go next. In a way, the feeling is exciting. But on a whole other level, the feeling is scary.
I hope they find their path quick for their sakes.
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January 29,
Big day. Or, I guess, it feels like a big day. It’s strange.
When we patched in Clay, I thought I would feel… something different. It’s humbling actually. I remember the feeling of pride I had when I first got my patch. It was like my world had finally become as I’d hoped. A sense of belonging and pride… and I’ll admit, I don’t know what Clay felt.
But this isn’t my first time patching a new brother into the club. I remember that. And what saddens me, is the first prospect I ever brought in, is dead now. I patched in three ever when before I took my presidency. Two of them are dead. One of them, he still makes me proud.
Brian has done me proud many times and I knew that I saw that spark in Clay when I brought him on. I know I did the right thing by not taking him as my prospect. And I feel the same about Stone. Even now, he does well, but he had to learn humility first.
But I digress, I don’t write these entries to bitch. I think that’s the answer though. Humble. That feeling that I felt instead pride. Humility. The future of this club humbles me. The new blood humbles me. All I can ask now is that, when the time comes for me to say goodbye to this path, I leave behind a strong legacy.
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January 27,
I first wanted to address this to my son. I don’t know why, but it felt like how we used to do this. Write entries we intend for our sons to read and use that knowledge to help better themselves.
But I’m going to just going to write this out and see who decides they want to know. Still going to write it like I’m talking to him though.
My son, I don’t know when you’re reading this or where I am in relation to you reading it, but I’m going to share some of my thoughts with you. I’ll go back a few years. I’m sure I’ve told you about my time in the armed forces. Hell, probably told you all about my many decades of service.
But what I may never have said is, don’t follow that path. I never had a good relationship with my old man, and so, I went looking for a new family. I mean, that’s not what it seemed like at the time. At the time, I just wanted to fight and kill to save the free world from corruption. Ya, I see the hypocrisy in what I am now compares to my ideals, but remember, a lot changed from when I first enlisted to becoming the man who raised you.
A pattern that comes up a lot for guys like me: we find something, we fight for it, we destroy it, then we start over again.
For once in my life though, I didn’t completely destroy this one thing I fought for, and I think you can guess what it is, or at least, I hope you can.
When you were born, I said I never wanted to see you get hurt, I never wanted to see you wear the kutte. I couldn’t imagine you choosing this life. But as you grew, I realized, it wasn’t going to be up to me. And then my view changed. I know now that, I want to see you chose the right life for yourself son.
I’ve said there’s only one thing I won’t put up with and that’s you putting on the PD badge. But you can chose your own path. Our club will always watch out for you and protect you, but be smart about whatever you do, not like your old man.
I honestly don’t really know where I’m going with this entry, I think it’s because it’s the first one I’ve written for anyone to read, but I mean every word.
Closing thought:
Be smart, make me proud son.
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A nightmare?
He awoke suddenly. Desperately he sought the clock, the darkness feeling like it was suffocating him. Grabbing at air, he finally found a watch he kept in the drawer and he pulled it out, his breath rapid and his eyes still blind he forced his breath to quiet. And no sound was heard. none. Not even the ticking of the analogue watch in his hands. His heart raced and he once again looked for the clock, a lamp, something. Light. He needed to see. His hands rummaged around and at last the found the lamp on his bedside table. He clicked the switch and braced himself for the brightness... which never came.
He blinked. The room still dark. But somehow, he knew something was in the room with him.
“Are you quite done?” asked the gravelly vaguely British voice that he had come to know so well.
Kilroy finally turned his head and looked to the other side of the room. In front of the window stood a man. Of same height and build as Kilroy himself. But his face completely obscured save for the 2 points of orange fire that made the being’s eyes.
“Azrael”
“Ah, good, you remember me.” The Archangel smiled. Although the room was dark, Kilroy could hear the smile in his tone. He could feel the reckless mirth of the spirit that had controlled him for many years.
“What do you want?”
“Now now, it won’t be that simple. But please remember. I can’t die, and you... Will one day, Forever grow still.”
Kilroy shot up in bed, nearly knocking the lamp off the bedside table as he looked for the switch. He caught it and listened for a moment. He could hear Lily sleeping next to him, her breathing undisturbed.
A nightmare. Thought Kilroy. Sighing, he walked to the bathroom and splashed water in his face. He looked in the mirror at the red eyes he’d been cursed with forever, despite Azrael’s dismissal. At least they didn’t turn to fire anymore... wait...
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Sometimes, you just need to stop and let the night wash over you.
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A Man and his Machines
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My thoughts
It’s hard to leave family behind. Be it brothers, lovers or I guess now, my kids. But there’s always a call to answer and around this time of year, I have to listen. I think back to the brothers I lost all those years ago. Passchendaele, Juno Beach… they never truly go away. Even now, I remember them though. And when November 11th comes, I take a moment for them.
Lest we forget.
#kilroy warhier#tssf#sinister sons#gtav#gtavrp#gta v roleplay#sinistersons#sinistersonsmc#allegedlyrp#I remember them
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Kilroy’s Story Thus Far
Born in Vancouver Canada, Kilroy has grown up in environments where family was more than blood. He served in the Canadian Armed forces before being discharged and narrowly avoided being tried as a war criminal. He took to the biker lifestyle like it was his home. Settling with a club he would soon become one of the most valued and respected members of, he now hopes to spread the clubs reach into a new city and establish his own charter with some of his closest brothers at his side.
Born to Gardener Warhier and a mother he never met, Kilroy worked hard and learned what he could from his old man. He raised horses, learned to hunt, and how to live off the land. His father would keep them moving, but this was the life of a backwoodsman. 1892 was a very different life than what he now leads, but that comes with the territory of being over 100 years old. He would live many years into manhood, and lose his father to the brutalities of the wild lands. When the call came to serve in the first world war, Kilroy enlisted. Still seeking a home, a place where he felt he belonged. His unit would become his new brotherhood, the men in hist platoon his blood. And as they served, they would see things no man should see.
Kilroy adopted this new life with eagerness and took great pride in what he did, but the acts he would commit would later be filed under the Geneva convention as war crimes. This would not keep him from serving until the end of the first world war. Upon returning to Canadian soil, Kilroy acquired his first motorcycle. The Norton 16H, and it would serve as his primary form of transportation before re-enlisting in 1939 to fight in the pacific theatre of ww2. Here, he would face new trials, and the darkest moment of his life would begin. While tracking Japanese soldiers in the oceanic jungles, his squad came upon a small encampment. Kilroy, as the squad’s sergeant, called for his squad to pause and spread out around the camp. On his mark, they went in. Gunshots filled the air, smoke rose and as the din of gunfire settled, they took into view who they had found. 3 men in only loincloths and a woman wearing bones, a headdress and her face smeared with white paint. As the squad searched the camp, Kilroy looked closer into the eyes of the woman.
The world slipped away and he now stood alone. The jungle dead silent. As were all of his brothers. Kilroy tried to turn, but realized he was kneeling and the woman stood before him, a strange blade in her hand, with a wicked curve to it. He tried to move, to take her weapon. To free himself.
“Do umui gini goada noho, bona lau do umui badinaia noho ela bona mase, vadaeni lau ese umui emui kwalimu ahuna, mauri, umui dekenai do lau henia.” She whispered.
Light filled the jungle and Kilroy let out a scream that turned into a malicious and maniacal cackle.
“I have returned.”
Kilroy didn’t know it yet, but what had just happened to him would change his life forever. His aging stopped. In fact, it went backwards. His body became stronger and younger. His hair, once jet black, not frosted with white, and his eyes burned. Pupils turned to flame and his flesh would begin to melt. Revealing the exposed skull beneath. As he now stood from the fire, he howled into the still night.
“I am Azrael, I am death.”
Azrael would control him for the duration of the second world war. Allowing Kilroy to survive active conflicts no man should’ve lived through. He killed many and would remember very little of it. He would be redeployed a few months after to what would be considered to be one of the longestest days in military history. Juno beach. On this day, Kilroy would return to control. Azrael would pull him through the initial landing, but the amount of work the fallen angel would be forced to do, would seal away the spirit so he could recover. Kilroy would finish fighting the war himself, but every wound would heal quickly. The angelic power afforded him by Azrael’s presence would give Kilroy healing powers he would become reliant on.
When he returned to Canada, he immediately realized there would always be one more war to fight. He would be living his life in a haze for another 80 years. But all of this would change after he returned from Korea.
With Canada finally opting to serve peace, Kilroy’s need for blood remained unsatisfied. He enlisted for the American armed forces and served in the Vietnam conflict. Here, he learned guerrilla tactics and how to fight when the odds were against him.
His leadership would only get him so far though, it would be his criminal nature that would carry him through. After serving, he would begin serving mercenary groups, private security details and cartels. His dark heart would be his strength, and his cruel nature would be his strength. Kilroy leaned into the power afforded him by Azrael and he would break men. Torturing them. Causing harm brought strength to Azrael, but his hunger for more, would also be his weakness. He became blind to his own destructive nature, and wouldn’t hear the screams of the people he hurt anymore. He wouldn’t feel their suffering and became a weapon of his employers. All until...
“Enough.” Kilroy’s eyes flickered. His heart stopped pounding and he came back to himself. His head turned, and he locked eyes with the closed off, cold eyes of his employer.
“You’re done Warhier. Get out.” Kilroy’s eyes flickered, and he looked back at the eyes of the person he’d been working on. Her eyes were empty. Grey in colour, like the waters that had been soon turned red by the blood. Her eyes were filled with tears, and the blood coloured her sclera. Who was she? Why was she here? Who was he even working for? Kilroy had no answers.
He stepped outside and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. His hands were coated in blood, and he only noticed when he held the lighter to the dart.
He shook his head and wiped his hand on his pant leg. He flicked the flint and held it to the end. It smouldered and he took a deep breath of smoke. He remembered coughing the first time he ever smoked, but the smoke barely even registered in his throat anymore. It passed through to his lungs and he let out the breath slowly. His mind raced and he heard a voice that was once shouting, screaming, laughing... calm. He placed the dart between his lips and held it, while he pulled out his phone.
Half the numbers he saw he didn’t recognize, the other half, he didn’t care. But one number stuck out to him.
Dennis. Who the fuck was Dennis? The name sounded familiar, but from where? Kilroy took another drag and dialed the number.
“Yup” The voice came through.
“Hi, Dennis? It’s Kilroy”
“Yup, what you want?”
“I need to move.”
“Ok?”
“Where are you these days?”
“I’ll get you a ticket. Leave everything behind. You come here, you’re resetting. Got it?”
Kilroy looked stunned, but slowly, he nodded, then said “Ok.”
2 weeks later, Kilroy was stepping off of a plane. Here, he connected with Dennis. A man, who through Kilroy’s adventures in the blind stupor of violence and crime had crossed paths once before. Dennis got Kilroy acquainted with his new surroundings. They pulled some jobs and he learned what it was to be more in control of his actions. Azrael remained dormant. But he still didn’t feel at home. After some time, Kilroy bought himself a bike and made his way up north, arriving in the desert community of Sandy Shores.
Here, he met his new family. The Sinister Sons MC. Kilroy first met the Sergeant at arms, Miguel, who brought Kilroy into the fold, gave him a chance, and the bonds of brotherhood began. He would become connected to Thor and Michael, the clubs president and VP. He’d become the prospect of the club’s Enforcer Damian, and he worked hard, always doing his best to impress and do as he was told. It was through this process Kilroy began to find himself again. The bonds of family that he had so desperately been searching for were finally beginning to take hold.
Here, he learned to ride in formation. To show up for anything his brothers needed him for. To listen when he was spoken to and to keep his mouth shut when he was not spoken to directly. His military background taught him discipline, but these men taught him loyalty in a way he couldn’t ever replace. His first arrest, he stood beside them in a conflict with a street gang. This conflict would escalate into a war Kilroy had never experienced. A street war. Fought unlike any of the pitched battles of the great world wars. With disrespect that resonated with every assault.
As with all conflicts, the end soon came, and with it, one of the most shattering things Kilroy had seen. The club bifurcated. Half of the active members left in favour of starting anew elsewhere. Those who remained presented the then prospect Kilroy with the voice to either remain or walk away. To Kilroy, the choice was simple. Stay.
Soon after, he was given his patch. He would then help train 2 more prospects, Henry and Martin. Not as their sponsor, but as their brother. The three men would become the new backbone of The Sinister Sons. Supporting their President and VP. But under the surface, Azrael was beginning to stir. The calm and rest he had been afforded was beginning to give him back power.
A few months passed and Kilroy took on his first prospect as her sponsor. Her name was Imogen, and they began having an affair. The affair would give rise to Azrael at last and the Fallen Angel of Death would awaken once more. Controlling Kilroy and this control would lead to him almost murdering his prospect. In a fit of lost control, Azrael hacked Imogen up with an axe. Kilroy returned to his senses at the clubhouse, only to be called out to the scene. Here, he found Mike and Imogen as well as some associates of the MC, The Lux Boys. They told Kilroy what had happened and pointed out his hat, which was on the scene. Kilroy had no memory of this, but when Imogen came too, she told them what had happened.
In a panic, Kilroy begged for his life, and that someone could free him of Azrael. He never meant for the spirit to become so strong. A woman named Summer was then called upon. It turned out, she was the daughter of Azrael’s brother Lucifer and his consort Lillith. The Demon daughter managed to seal away the Fallen Angel and Kilroy, for the first time in a long time, began to change again. His skin and muscle recoated the exposed bone of his skull. His hair grew back and so did his beard.
But he would forever now carry the highlighted tint of white brought on by the stress to his body from Azrael.
Kilroy felt truly thankful of Summer’s work, and sought to chase her heart. He took her on a few dates, and was beginning to feel he had found a real relationship. He did not expect what would come in the wake of Azrael’s work, and when Summer broke his heart, he sank into a grim depression. He was all business, all the time. But this wasn’t enough. The club couldn’t overlook his actions at attempting the murder of his former prospect, now the club’s treasurer.
For the first time, he was faced with his own mortality. A meeting with Mr. Mayhem.
The vote was not unanimous, and this spared his life. But it wouldn’t save him from his Brother Martin.
Some time would pass, and Kilroy would be mostly at peace. He still continued his usual ways of flirting with any woman with a heartbeat, but this would bring someone very special into his life. Through Jager’s friend Leprechaun, Lily came into his life. A quiet woman at first, she would become his newest obsession. This beautiful woman who brought true joy to him. Even while being forced to wear the prospect patch once more, she was there and throughout his time, he would fall in love with her.
He would try his hardest to be there for her, but would be so often taken away to work for his club. And all the while, he would be fighting to hide his curse. And it was in this process, Azrael would regain his strength. It was now that the club hierarchy would change. Jager would take over as president, and Mike would become his VP. All the while, Kilroy would be serving his club as best he could.
But it seemed at every turn, Kilroy would lose more of himself and to Lily, he was growing distant. The club consumed him. And his heart was clouded by the darkness of Azrael’s attempts to escape. Until at last, He woke up. The flood gates exploded. Kilroy was gone and Azrael returned. And in this came to light the worst of Kilroy’s choices.
Including the revelation of Kilroy and River’s illicit affair, and the child she now bore. This child, Azrael’s child.
Martin decided to take the justice of the club into his own hands. He took Kilroy into his own home and shot Kilroy in the head. He then dragged the seemingly lifeless corpse out to the Alamo sea and dumped him. But as he sped off, Azrael took over the body of Kilroy once more and saved the dying man.
Kilroy couldn’t remember the events, in fact, he was unaware that his then pregnant consort Rivers, was even pregnant with their child. As time would pass, Kilroy would prospect for his own club a second time. And he fought hard to earn back his patch. In that time, the club had taken on new members, including a rather charismatic bastard named Jager. Kilroy would earn back the patch, but in that time, Rivers would choose a brutal method of aborting her and Kilroy’s child. Cutting her stomach to end the half demon’s life.
This triggered Kilroy’s rage and he struck her. Angry and hurt. And out of Control.
The decision was made to call, once again, upon Summer to attempt to banish the angel once and for all. They took Kilroy to a secluded location. This spot was where Summer had previously performed all manner of witchcraft, and where her power would be at its strongest. This final ritual set him free.
Things would not remain simple or even clear for Kilroy. His loyalties would drive his love from his arms. Lily, now pregnant with Kilroy’s children, would leave him in favour of being away from the man he had become. Kilroy would try to win her back, but would turn his attention away from her for the time being in favour of working on himself and his connection to the club.
But new troubles arose when Jager took control of the Sinister Sons. He began slowly taking away all of the responsibilities of his high table members and making the work of the Sons the task of being his private army. Not the free bikers they were meant to be. This action would drive Kilroy away from his own brotherhood, and 2 of his closest brothers would die in the time. Kilroy knew there was only one way to send a message to the club about the path they’d chosen. He threw down his kutte on the table, and drove his knife through the Reaper. The patch that was his life, his family, his Home. On the knife was affixed a note:
This was my family. This was my home.
Kilroy rode out that day, and went to see his old brother and friend Mike. Mike and Thor had both left because of the creature Jager, but they’d all remained friends, as brotherhood doesn’t end when one walks away, it only ends in death. Kilroy talked to Mike and they agreed to see what future they could forge together.
Kilroy then decided to return his keys to the compound and clubhouse. He wouldn’t need them anymore. But as he entered the compound, he was greeted by his brothers who remained in the Sinister Sons.
“Jager is gone, will you come back?”
At first, Kilroy struggled with this choice. He wanted to return, but he wasn’t sure this was what was best. He looked into his brothers eyes, and saw in their faces the light that had gone missing so long ago. He smiled and nodded.
“Yes, I’ll come back brothers.”
He wore the patch. He took on the role of Tail Gunner and carried his brothers as best he could. Helping them through every crisis and event. But when they began to disregard his words, he once again thought of the bigger world beyond. His ol lady had come back to him now. Lily, now several months pregnant, and with twins no less, was once again his. And he was approached by his Sgt at Arms about opportunity elsewhere. It was this decision that lead him away.
Now he seeks the new home for his charter. Because to him, his family’s future is paramount.
True Sinister Son Forever.
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Love for My Club.
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