"They had it ing," said Ben. "They showed up here armed to the teeth with all sorts of illegal ons. I don' t know what kind of shit they had in mind but we were just defending ourselves." He smirked.
Ben squi Quinn' s badge. "Well, first, you' re out of uniform. Sedly, you' re out of your jurisdi - you' re not a cop in this town, you' re just another asshole with a bad haircut," he laughed. "But if you want to e inside, e in."
out here now!"
"Is any of that true?" asked Quinn.
"Now just a sed there," Ben said. "Who said we were doh them?" "I did," said Quinn. "Now get out of my way a me get them out of here."
"True enough," said Tommy.
"Fine," said Quinn. "Just let me get them out of here and we' ll call it even, you sick fucks."
"What the fuck!" shouted Quinn. "Are you guys all right?"
Ben laughed sadistically. "You ready to take the three of us on all by yourself? You know, the band is playiwo nights so we don' t have to load out tonight. We have all night to stay in here and rod roll. Tell you what, you look like you' re put together pretty good, we' ll make you a little deal. You take any one of us on, bare knuckles, right here. You beat any one of us fair and square, and all you
Tommy looked up. "Yeah, we' re okay, they just worked us over."
"You want to call the cops, fine," said Ben. "You arrest us, and we' ll press charges against them too, and we iron it all out at the station."
Quinn and Derek stepped up into the trailer. In the dim light and da, it looked like some medieval torture chamber out of an old horror movie. Manacles hung from the walls. Ripped and discarded clothing was all over the floor. The heavily muscled Ben, Gus, and Ted, all bare-chested, were smeared with sumped with testosterone and adrenalianding with ched fists. Tommy, Steve, and Scott were slumped on the floor, shirtless, covered with sweat and bruises, locked into the cage at the rear wall of the trailer.