The Black Badge was quite a strange society of powerful Wasatch men. It was a secret organization within secret organizations. All in all it had 15 members; 7 Boyack Intelligence Firm members, 7 Architects, and 1 man who was the President of the Sons of Uintah MC. This rather powerful outlaw biker was named Michael 'Mike' Weston. He was one of the founding members of the Black Badge back in 1984, when the country was in a state of turmoil. The purpose of the Black Badge was to steer Wasatch into a position of great power. So far the Black Badge felt like it was doing its job perfectly well, however there were members of the Firm that wished too discuss an important matter.
The message had gotten around a week ago. And today was the day that the discussion would take place. Weston owned a cabin on his hunting property outside Moab, Uintah. It was a long ways from Reno, and the closest airport was 130 miles away in Provo. So the cabin was perfect. Weston was already present and alone for now. He would be for the next several hours. It was six o clock in the morning and the meeting was not taking place until ten o clock at night. Weston did not mind the time for preparation, even though he felt like he was getting too old for these early mornings and late nights. Running a MC was no easy work, especially when he also happened to be part of Wasatch's most secretive organization.
As Weston sat and enjoyed his coffee and newspaper, he realized that the drunk Chancellor was all over the news. Markus did everything from fist fights too charity dances. It was strange how Boyack had tightened his grip so firmly in the souls of the Wasatch people. It was almost scary. But oh well, the Chancellor had not shown a desire to in any way aggravate Jones or his MC. As long as the Chancellor didn't try to stop the gun trade in Uintah Weston was more than ok with his nations Chancellor.
The message had gotten around a week ago. And today was the day that the discussion would take place. Weston owned a cabin on his hunting property outside Moab, Uintah. It was a long ways from Reno, and the closest airport was 130 miles away in Provo. So the cabin was perfect. Weston was already present and alone for now. He would be for the next several hours. It was six o clock in the morning and the meeting was not taking place until ten o clock at night. Weston did not mind the time for preparation, even though he felt like he was getting too old for these early mornings and late nights. Running a MC was no easy work, especially when he also happened to be part of Wasatch's most secretive organization.
As Weston sat and enjoyed his coffee and newspaper, he realized that the drunk Chancellor was all over the news. Markus did everything from fist fights too charity dances. It was strange how Boyack had tightened his grip so firmly in the souls of the Wasatch people. It was almost scary. But oh well, the Chancellor had not shown a desire to in any way aggravate Jones or his MC. As long as the Chancellor didn't try to stop the gun trade in Uintah Weston was more than ok with his nations Chancellor.