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Background

It's the classic motorcycle club tale-- it's '76 in the town of San Ramon, California, population 19,000, where a Vietnam war vet and a few of his old war buddies, united in their mutual love of the open road, rock'n'roll, and the roar of the engine, come together as architects of a new movement. Christened the Burning Steel MC, their only concerns in those early years was to ride, live, and be happy. And all was well in those first ten or so years-- they rode, they lived, and they carved their own lives out in the quiet little town of San Ramon. Found love, settled down some, made families. The founder himself met the woman of his dreams, and in the mid eighties had his first son. Not a few years after, the second followed. All was well for the Burning Steel Motorcycle Club as it burgeoned, expanded, accepted new members of the family they were building.

But the times were changing-- and that change fell hard on little San Ramon, located unobtrusively near the border of the Mexican-American border. Towards the end of the eighties, San Ramon suddenly found itself a hotspot of crime-- a choice stopping point for the burgeoning drug trade funneling in from South of the border, and a convergence point of rising crime levels throughout the area. The town's police department simply fell apart in the face of an unprecedented challenge, unaccustomed to anything much worse than the occasional public or domestic disturbance; those officers who weren't killed in the coming years buried themselves firmly into the pockets of the gangs and syndicates that began to move in, hoping thusly to escape the crossfire, to escape with their lives-- perhaps even to make it out of the chaos with a buck or two in their wallets for the trouble.

Burning Steel would have none of it. This was their town, their home, and their family, and they weren't about to lie down and accept this. Nor were the gangs going to make it easy on them.

It was nothing major at first-- some intimidation, some coercion, whatever the Steel could do to peacefully dismantle the situation. They weren't ready, the club president decided, for open confrontation with the gangs-- not yet. He wanted to explore peaceful avenues before embroiling the town in any more violence than it was already experiencing. The gangs saw this, got a good chuckle or two out of it, and decided the Burning Steel were a doormat and they were gonna walk all over them just to prove the point. And they started it off, one foggy morning in January of 1990, with the kidnapping and murder of the wife of the president.

That was the day the Burning Steel declared war on any violence, any drug trafficking, any gang activity, anything they didn't approve of, in their San Ramon.

Securing firearms and weapons from trusted outside sources, the club, the upper echelons composed of hard-boiled veterans of war, hit back, and hit back hard. It was a year of grueling violence and warfare before eventually, the Steel drove out many of the gangs, many of the traffickers, restored order to the town... and control.

But that's not what this story is about. That's all just background-- history, if you will. Since then, the Steel's taken it upon themselves to protect their homey little town of San Ramon, keep it safe when the law fails to do its duty, as it all too often does. The two brothers born to the club president have grown into men themselves, taken up their father's love of the motorcycle, and made their own names in the Burning Steel. It was a tale much like you see everywhere-- they never really got along. The elder brother was a wanderer, a rebel, a fighter at heart-- he was never happy unless he was fighting something, never content unless the blood was pumping in his veins, and he became violent and uncontrollable. The younger took after his father-- an even-tempered man, prone always to opting for the peaceful option-- an idealist, believing firmly in the good of people in general. It's not to say the younger was always a saint and the older was Satan incarnate-- things are never so black and white-- but they were simply never going to get along. The younger liked vanilla ice cream, the older preferred chocolate. The younger listened to punk, the older was a staunch metalhead. The younger preferred Pepsi, the older swore by Coke. Those kinds of unforgivable sins. For a while, though, they managed-- the tensions brewing between them, tensions brewing beneath the club itself, did not see the light of day under the guidance of the president.

But the president couldn't live forever, and he couldn't keep those tensions in check forever. He held out as long as he could, refused to stop riding until he simply couldn't anymore, and, having accepted the coming end of his years, made it his wish that the younger brother take his place as president, fearing the older brother's temper and impatience would be the undoing of the club.

He underestimated his elder son, however, in both respects. The president's final choice was the spark that at last brought the two brothers into open conflict, and the tensions underlying the Burning Steel rose to rear their ugly faces. The elder brother, refusing to accept that he'd have to be under the authority of his idiot pacifist of a brother, broke away from the Burning Steel in rage. With him came many of the riders once loyal to the BSMC, each with their own reason for breaking away. The Burning Steel had fractured-- many chose to stay loyal to the club, but just as many left, and when they did, they took with them their bikes, the weapons the Steel had been using to fend off crime in San Ramon-- and, just to spite the riders who had once been their brothers in arms, they torched the Burning Steel headquarters on their way out to make the name literal. They declared the birth of an outlaw motorcycle gang, christened themselves the Mot?rheads, and decided San Ramon was theirs now.

San Ramon found itself the stage of a cold war between the two forces. Former brothers and sisters now regarded one another with suspicion, with malice, with outright hate, but outside of one or two isolated incidents, open hostility was not yet the case. But the status quo would not remain so for long. The elder brother was not used to the authority he now wielded-- dangerously unused to it, and what had once been a love of adrenaline and the rush of the fight, now unchecked, it became aggression, hate, and, eventually, war. The older brother wanted the town for the Mot?rheads, wanted it to be his own little 'playground'-- he was sick of defending people when they were either too weak to defend themselves, or wicked (but strong) enough to be the ones doing the bullying. To him, it was the natural order of things.

It's a cold war that could be set off with a single incident-- accidentally, or intentionally.

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