"What the fuck, dude!" 

Phantom barely felt the slap to his face. He shook his head, trying to snap out of a trance. Where was he? Who was yelling at him? A yank on his arm. 

"Come on, let's get out of here! This whole fucking neighborhood heard those shots." 

Shots? His gaze dropped to his hand. He was clutching his Glock tightly. Slowly, his attention shifted to what must have been his target. A man in a bed. The lightly fluttering curtain revealed two bullet holes, one in the forehead and one in the cheek. The body was obscured by shadows until the next breeze, revealing dark stains around the torso. 

Phantom closed his eyes, then opened them again. The surreal scene remained. "What... what happened?" His voice sounded like someone else's. 

"What happened? You shot that bastard to pieces, asshole. You're so fucking screwed. This'll get you kicked out of the club. Finally." 

Axle. It was Axle here with him. He had been sent here because Lola's friend was kidnapped and this cop had taken a bribe. But why—

The child. The child on an old mattress, chained by the ankle. Yes, now he remembered. The sight had triggered a memory and then he went completely berserk. 

"Fuck," he muttered as the consequences of his actions finally sank in. 

"Yeah, no kidding. Now, move." Axle gave him a hard shove. 

Phantom glanced at the dead cop. In his mind, a very different head was attached to that body. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the present. Axle was already out of the room and Phantom hurried after him. He nearly stumbled down the stairs, unable to grab the railing because of the gun still in his hand. His shoulder and knee took the brunt of the impact against the wall, but he managed not to tumble down like a complete idiot. 

The basement door was open. "We have to... We can't leave the boy here." 

"Like hell we can't. Send an anonymous tip later." 

Another impatient shove. The air he breathed felt like it was filled with glowing embers; every breath burned his lungs. The front door closed behind them. Axle snarled at him, but Phantom didn't hear the words. 

The shots had alarmed the neighborhood; he glimpsed shadows behind dark windows. Shit. Oh shit. Phantom had been to prison before. Then, he'd always had Charon's protection. And now... now he'd barely joined the club. He had no idea if they would protect someone who had barely proven himself. Certainly not someone who fucked up massively right after getting his patch. He started running–he already looked guilty anyway. 

Axle had already started his motorcycle and sped off with screeching tires. Phantom's hands trembled as he unlocked his Harley and mounted it. His heart pounded against his ribcage as if it wanted to flee. Sirens wailed behind him. When he looked back, he saw the blue lights in the distance. His engine roared to life. He twisted the throttle and sped away. Not towards the clubhouse–he had enough presence of mind for that. If they followed him, if they caught a glimpse of him, he was done. It was better to lie low and follow the news from a distance. If he led the cops straight to the club, it was over for him. That much was certain. 

Phantom however didn't know where to go. Sad as it was, he didn't really have friends in this city, and the few friends he had before he moved to this place were part of Charon. He'd wanted to cut all ties with that gang. He couldn't go back there. 

During the year he'd lived here, he'd mostly focused on earning his patch. There was hardly any time for making friends, as the club kept him busy all day with various tasks and often called him in the evenings and at night. He had considered Phoenix and Raine as friends, but they had moved to another state. Their friend Skye too. He was alone–completely alone. Nothing new, and yet it never got any easier. 

He turned street after street, constantly checking his mirrors. There was no sign of a pursuit. Still, it wasn't enough–he knew better than anyone what evidence cameras could provide. That's how he had seen the cop's involvement in Lola's friend's kidnapping in the first place.

 Eventually, he found a motel on the outskirts of the city. Not yet planning to go inside, he waited in the darkness to make sure no one was following him. Meanwhile, he sent his president a text: Mission failed. I'll lay low until I'm sure no one can link me to the club. 

No response came. Axle had surely already told him what happened and undoubtedly exaggerated things. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Bit his cheek until it bled. 

Phantom sat on the edge of a flower bed, in a spot that the light from the streetlamp a meter away couldn't reach. He sighed deeply and looked down. There were bloodstains on his arms, he noticed as he brushed them. His clothes must be covered in it too. 

No motel tonight then. He needed clean clothes before he could show up anywhere. Maybe one of the club girls could bring him some. Lola. He didn't like facing her after this failure, but she deserved to hear from him that he'd screwed up. He searched the internet for her phone number–not too hard, given her side job as an escort. What should he say? Hey, my clothes are covered in blood, can you bring me some new ones? As a sweet butt, he could easily ask her that. He could order her to do whatever the hell he wanted. He couldn't let her know that he had no one else, right? 

Lacking a better idea, he typed the message and hit send.