Sons of Anarchy Season Zero: The Crow's Nest

Our Name Says It All


"No, I don't regret setting bombs. I just regret that we didn't do enough." – Bill Ayers, leader of the Weather Underground terrorist organization, active 1969-1977

MARCH 1970


"I'll see you on the other side," JT told Lenny Janowitz and Otto Moran as he reached through the bars of their prison cell. This was the day JT had been waiting for the past 18 months. 18 more months of his life that had been taken from him, he thought as the anger welled up inside him again. He was supposed to have gone home to Charming 18 months ago. It was now over 3 years since he had seen his hometown. No doubt his high school girlfriend had moved on. She hadn't even written or called him since the day he started serving his jail sentence.

His two usual morning guards roughly opened the door loudly. "You smiling at me, soldier boy?" the first guard taunted him. JT had been expressionless, and he would not let these people goad him into doing something rash. That's what had gotten him here in the first place.

"No, I'm not," JT replied calmly.

"Oh, you getting released today, is that right?" the other guard said with a nasty smirk. "You know you want to stay in here, boy. After all, what you going to, go back home you might find most of your buddies in the bottom of some swamp in Vietnam being chewed up by piranhas or whatever the hell swims in that muck over there." JT knew it was him just trying to make him snap. The fact that the show with the Aryans didn't turn out as planned displeased the guards greatly.

"Get your fucking shit together, this might be your lucky day after all," the other guard said impatiently, realizing their plan wouldn't work this time either.

"To be honest I didn't expect you to survive, Teller," the prison guard said darkly as he opened the door to the release processing area of the state penitentiary. "Guess you Charming boys a bunch of proud tough white trash. Just to be clear though, boy, you ever find yourself in here again you won't be so lucky."

"I don't intend to come back here again," JT said.

The guard laughed at him. "Nobody ever intends that, soldier boy, but that don't mean we don't see them again."

Clay and Piney were both waiting on the other side along with Cliff as JT finally changed out of his jumpsuit and was escorted down a long hallway and out into the visitors parking lot where inmates were released. JT gave his father a long embrace before getting in the passenger seat, leaving Stockton State Prison behind them. Piney and Clay rode along in their Harley motorcycles as escorts as JT left the prison compound in his father's car.

"I'll make a couple calls, see who needs help around here," Cliff told his son, "I can also give you a couple days at the garage until you got something figured out."

"You sure that's good for business? I know Charming's not San Francisco, but I'm sure there's still some people who hate soldiers, especially those of us who fought in Nam."

"Yes, those kinds of idiots exist everywhere, but you're my son, we are a military family, and if they don't like that, I'll flat out tell them to move the hell to the USSR if they have a problem with this country."

"There's still plenty of other people in this area who've kept their sanity and I'll make some calls. Will probably talk to Oswald today or tomorrow, they always need help at the sawmill at the very least, maybe some of his other things. It's not like the Bay Area where people will throw you out the moment they find out you were in the service. I'll have to be honest though, your criminal record is going to raise some eyebrows. We'll just have to see how it goes."


Less than a half hour later, they were making their way through the small canyons and narrow valleys that abutted Charming, which was located in a geographically unique portion of the otherwise flat San Joaquin Valley. Whenever JT would travel long distances, it was coming back on this road that really made him feel at home. He had spent countless hours on dirt bikes and regular Harleys along the ridges and valleys here.

Of course there were some people who hated growing up in Charming. The narrow canyons made them feel trapped, and the open expanse of the valley on the other side of town made them feel isolated from everything else. It was really quite the opposite for JT. The small valleys - people back east would probably call them hollers - with the wind whistling through at night amid the chirping of the blue jays made him feel safe and protected, and going 85 mph across the soybean fields and citrus groves under the open skies gave him a sense of freedom you just couldn't find on an urban freeway. It was a year and a half later than JT had expected, but as expected nothing's really changed that much in Charming, and that was part of the appeal. In fact, some old timers liked to joke that when the world ended, they'd want be in Charming because it's twenty years behind the times.

The canyon soon opened up and JT finally saw the old large wooden welcome sign with the motto "Our Name Says It All" plus "Population 7875" as they entered the Charming city limits. The road continued to pass through some sparse woods and fertile farmland before widening to four lanes as it entered the town center. Charming was indeed a beautiful place, with a commercial downtown of about twenty blocks of low-rise buildings, the only thing taller than five stories being the large water tower emblazoned with the town motto as well as the Charming High School mascot. Downtown was anchored by a Main Street with cobblestone sidewalks and American flags and ribbons on the classic streetlights and trees that lined it. JT watched as the car then entered the residential Buckhead neighborhood, a traditional community of mid-sized single story detached homes fronted by small lawns and white picket fences, the kind of place where there was a sense of community yet still afforded quiet and privacy to its mostly lower middle class residents. He was finally home.


The attack was planned on a day that Jimmy Nelms had no classes, so nobody would notice him missing. Around 10:30 AM he drove to the Victorian style house on Josephine Street where Deanna Lunsik lived along with three other UC Berkeley students, all of whom were on campus at the moment. Deanna paid more in rent than the other tenants, which allowed her to have exclusive use of and access to the garage which was kept under lock and key at all times. Deanna, who did not work on campus aside from an unpaid engineering research position, found it amusing that her father's income working for the government was helping to pay for part of their base of operations. Since in addition to holding her Volkswagen Beetle car, this garage also served as the explosives workshop Deanna and other Weather Underground bombmakers used to construct the devices they would use in their attacks.

Jimmy opened up his glove compartment and ran his fingers through an autographed copy of Rules For Radicals by Saul Alinsky. Jimmy remembered his elation upon hearing from Professor Rogers that Alinsky had personally approved the task they were about to perform. Jimmy then looked at the newspaper clipping from a week ago that he had saved. Saul Alinsky was in the news again for proposing a radical march in Chicago and the San Francisco Chronicle published a special edition extolling his contributions to political activism which Jimmy decided to save forever. His eyes focused on the picture of Saul Alinsky leading a march of angry protestors right here in Berkeley. While Alinsky certainly knew how to get down and dirty, it was up to people like Comrade Jimmy to go to a place Alinsky himself couldn't and take their dark dreams to a higher level.

Jimmy embraced Deanna as he entered the garage, giving her a long, passionate kiss. Their passion for socialism was exceeded only by the passion they felt for one another. Their relationship was often more wild than romantic, but both felt a level of eroticism about what they were about to do on this day. Both had caused extensive property damage in their previous attacks, and had even killed and dismembered pets belonging to veterans and military families in an attempt to intimidate them, but neither had actually killed a person before, and they were proud to hopefully be crossing that line today to prove their devotion to their fierce political beliefs. Other people kill over drugs and relationship issues and stolen goods. They were killing for a higher purpose. They had a calling.

"Got it working without a hitch, I assume?" Jimmy asked, running his hands sensually down Deanna's back as he looked at the sophisticated bomb sitting on the workbench.

She kissed him again. "Without a hitch, honey. It will be even better than the model we tested." Weeks ago, they had detonated a cache of her homemade explosives in rural Marin County, at the family estate of another Weather Underground terrorist. And that bomb wasn't the full force because anything more would have attracted attention from the neighbors. Deanna's blue eyes sparkled as she carried the open metal case containing the bomb and handed it to Jimmy, who placed it in his trunk.

"You're a gift to us, and to me, Deanna," he said, holding her hands. "I don't know where we'd be without you. This is a remarkable work of art. With this, you'll force our enemies to take us seriously. This country will only wake up from its ignorance when the terror its brought to Vietnam is seen in our own communities, especially those that support the war."

"It's nothing without your courage, Comrade Jimmy," she replied with a smile, purposely using his nom de guerre. "I understand why Rogers doesn't want me to go with you, but be careful out there. Make me proud, Jimmy, make all of us proud."


"Lord, thank you for this day, thank you for this food that you've provided us. We pray that it nourishes our bodies. We also thank you for the blessings that you've bestowed upon this family. Thank you for the success you've given me at my job and I pray that you continue to strengthen me and provide me with the wisdom and guidance I need to succeed. We thank you, Lord, once again for the promotion that Tameesha recently received at Harvey's and for allowing me to excel thus far with my classes this semester. I also pray for my brothers in arms still over there on the battlefield. May you protect them and grant them victory against their enemies. We know that in the end Lord, you are in control of all things, and may your will be done. We pray these things in the name of your son Jesus Christ, Amen."

"Amen," Tameesha repeated. No matter how much in a hurry they were, Otis and Tameesha never failed to say their morning prayers over breakfast, because they knew it was God alone that had carried them this far in their lives, including bringing Otis home from the front lines of the Tet Offensive and allowing him to not just avoid a court martial but be awarded the Medal of Honor for leading the operation that rescued JT and Piney. Tameesha had just been promoted from hostess to server at Harvey's Family Restaurant and things were continuing to look up for Otis both at college and at his new paid internship.

"You ready for tomorrow exam?" Tameesha asked her husband as he took a sip of his coffee.

Otis took one last glance on his lecture notes. "Nope," he said, then laughed, "But then nobody's ever ready for those exams. We all survive, somehow."

"You know I have all the faith in the world for you," she said, "I can't believe you got all these financial ratios and all to memorize. I'm having a hard enough time memorizing the menu at Harvey's, especially with all the new things they're adding on to it."

"Guess that's what happens when you order the same thing every time you go in!" Otis replied laughing. "You got a point, though. I've been there at least fifty times, tried something new almost every time, and still haven't experienced the entire menu yet. If you need some practice, I'll quiz you tonight, make it more fun. I'll pretend to be the most demanding customer you've ever met."

"That would certainly be helpful," she said, getting up from the table. "Time for both of us to not be late."

Otis made Tameesha a kiss as they stood together in their kitchen. "I love you, baby."

He then gave Taddarius a kiss in his crib too before heading out the door into another sunny spring day.


Crestwood, six miles east of downtown Charming, was so named for its setting in some low forested hills. While some newer lake-style homes were popping up for newer residents, including some willing to make the commute to Stockton and Lodi, much of the area still remained a mix of trailer parks and rural homes on large pieces of acreage. The fact that many of these properties were still on well water was the reason JT and Piney Winston were here.

Finding work as a retired veteran was difficult enough for Piney as well, even though he didn't have the criminal record JT now did. By now, Piney had resorted to placing advertisements on windows and bulletin boards around town for odd jobs, especially those involving motor repair. He certainly didn't hesitate for a second to let JT work with him when his childhood friend finally got released from Stockton. This particular job involved repairing a broken diesel generator that pumped well water on property owned by a carpenter named Bruce Detty whom Piney had known for years. To JT and Piney, motors were motors and they were skilled enough mechanics to handle this as well as they could a vehicle.

The Detty home that the well was adjacent to was actually a trailer set at the edge of the woods, but long-time Charming residents knew that stereotypes about this kind of housing arrangement were often false. Their clients for this job lived in a doublewide with three bedrooms, two bathrooms connected to the well water supply, a large living room and a kitchen and laundry area with brand-new electric appliances. It was more comfortable than many urban apartments and even comparable to many of Charming's older single family homes.

The day went well until around 11:30 AM when they were taking a quick break from the work after Bruce's wife Tina, who had just returned from her morning errands in town, offered them some iced tea and they took a few minutes siting on the lawn chairs next to the trailer, facing the peaceful forested hills. It was soon afterward that they overheard the commotion.

"You could have found anyone else to fix that!" Tina Detty was saying loudly. "We got this entire phone book right here. Even if someone else charged more I wouldn't have cared!"

"Calm down, honey, please!" Bruce was pleading loudly with his wife.

"Calm down? Are you listening to yourself? For Chrissake you let those two into the house when our kids are still here in their rooms?"

"I've known Piney Winston's family for years, and JT…."

"Have you not been paying any attention to the news?" Tina Detty shot back, "How can you be sure they're the same guys you knew before, that the war hasn't done something to them? Almost every week on the news, Peter Jennings talks about some soldier somewhere returning home all messed up in the head and committing all sorts of unspeakable crimes!"

Bruce was coming to the veterans' defense. "They're a bunch of bleeding heart cowards who should be in Moscow working for Pravda! Peter Jennings isn't even American! Ten years ago, his show wouldn't even pass for news, it would be comedy!"

Piney opened the door and stepped into the kitchen, placing their empty glasses on the counter. "Thank you for your hospitality, ma'am," he said, looking Tina in the eye. "We won't impose on your any longer." He stepped back outside where JT was waiting. "C'mon, man, let's go."

Bruce Detty shook his head, rushing past his wife and all but jumping down the steps from his trailer.

"Fellas, I'm sorry about that," he said, opening his wallet and taking out some cash. "You know I wasn't expecting that. She….she's been so caught up on that bullshit in the media, believes every friggin thing those liberal hacks on TV feed the public.!"

"It's not your fault, sir," JT said calmly. So much for this job.

"Look, here's for what's y'all done already," Bruce said, holding out a handful of ten dollar bills.

"It's alright, we ain't taking nothing before the job's done.


Jimmy and Antonio's first destination was located to the north of Charming, not far from where the State Highway 99 bypass met back up with the business route serving the center of town. Antonio looked especially alert as Jimmy made a turn off the two-lane highway, cutting across a field where a herd of cattle grazed in the tall grass. Antonio definitely felt out of his element out here in the country.

"I can't believe this is less than an hour from Berkeley," Antonio commented as he winced at the smell of cow manure. The smell of hay and freshly cut grass was new to him too. "This is what I imagine Kansas would be like."

"Just keep calm, don't draw attention to yourself," Jimmy said as he brought his lighter up to the Cuban cigar he smoked to feel closer to Che Guevara. "As far as anyone else is concerned, you're my undocumented worker who doesn't know how to speak English. Plenty of those around here cause these rednecks are too lazy to work their own fields despite their boastful claims of self-sufficiency." Here it was Jimmy trying to play it safe. He was afraid Antonio might not be able to get his nervousness under control and slip if he engaged in conversation with anyone here, so best to not have him speak any English at all.

"Understood, ese," Antonio said as he exhaled on his cigarette. "We almost there?"

"Yep, five minutes. Other guys are still right behind us for backup if necessary, but I got this handled." Antonio double checked all the guns in their glove box as Jimmy turned left at a sign reading "Jefferson Ranch" following a long dirt road to the farmhouse, barn, and shed sat amid a clump of cypress trees in the middle of the open ranchland. Jimmy found out about the Jefferson brothers through a classified ad about selling a large Dodge Maxivan which would be the perfect for the attack. That plus the location close to their intended target was why the Weathermen settled on this place. During their brainstorming session, Antonio had suggested getting his friends from Oakland to simply steal a vehicle for them, but Professor Rogers pointed out that there were too many variables. The vehicle could not be reported missing before the mission, and operational security dictated that the fewer people outside the organization knew their plans, the better. Antonio had to agree with Rogers that if his friends were caught, they would easily cooperate with the authorities to avoid deportation given that most of them were illegal like him.

Jimmy and Antonio walked briskly up the stone path leading to the ranch's main house.

"Ah, so you must be Jimmy," a man said, opening the door before Jimmy walked up the front steps. He was dressed in overalls with suspenders. Typical country fashion, Jimmy thought. He glanced at Antonio and back at Jimmy.

"This is Antonio. He works for me on my property, he's going to drive my car back."

The seller nodded. "Well my brother should be ready in the garage now."

Jimmy also greeted the younger Jefferson brother and made a show of inspecting the paint job on the van, even though he only really needed the engine to run for the twenty or so minutes it took to drive to their target from here. He couldn't let these sellers suspect anything until he was able to surprise them. Finally, Jimmy opened the hood and started the engine, acting satisfied.

"Looks good," he said to the brothers then turned around to Antonio. "Estamos listos. Trae la plata!"

"Si, jefe," Antonio replied and came with a suitcase of money for the car. The Jefferson brothers took a quick look through the money and concluded the sale, handing Jimmy the keys to the Maxivan.

"Well, nice doing business with you. Let us know if y'all need anything else," the first seller said.

"Will do. Thank you, sir," Jimmy said with the fake polite smile that he had practiced throughout his entire upper class New England upbringing.

"I'll see you back at the farm, Antonio," Jimmy said in Spanish as he tossed his own set of keys to his fellow Weatherman.

Jimmy then pulled out a gun and discharged three shots into the first man's back the moment he turned around. Even he was surprised at how quick his trigger finger had become. The training that Professor Rogers had arranged had certainly paid off. Jimmy's victim gasped, struggled for breath for a few seconds then fell face first to the ground with a thump. The younger brother stepped back in shock.

"Jesus Christ!" he cursed and removed his gun from his holster to aim at the Weathermen, but Antonio quickly shot him through the head, the man's falling back against the wall then down onto the floor in a pool of blood.

"Okay, let's move quickly!" Jimmy ordered, motioning for another terrorist to take his personal vehicle and help move the bomb to the Jeep as more Weathermen terrorists watched the perimeter.


Otis made sure his clothes were in order as he parked his motorcycle in his usual spot behind the Armed Forces Credit Union, a single story building spanning an entire small block in Lodi's commercial downtown. He took off his motorcycle jacket and checked his tie one last time in the reflection of his car. He didn't think he would ever get used to this and thanked God that Tameesha was always there to tie it for him. Otis quickly strode down the street to the credit union, arriving a punctual 10 minutes before his scheduled time. While he didn't mind school, he preferred this much more, being able to apply the things he learned in a real world setting, even if this was only supposed to be a stepping stone to a larger financial institution. At the same time, Otis felt it was a blessing for him to still help out his fellow soldiers and veterans and their families. As he took a look down the street, Otis noticed that none of the three unwashed hippies who often took turns standing across the street holding misspelled protest signs had shown up today despite the comfortable sunny weather. Maybe the Lodi police finally received enough complaints from the nearby business owners to find a way to keep them away from that well-trafficked street corner, or perhaps they had been caught with drugs and arrested.

The Armed Forces Credit Union served as a bank for current and retired service members from all branches of the military. While many World War II and Korean War vets came here, the business volume was especially high now because of the guys like him returning from Vietnam, and because of the military spouses and other family members who used the Western Union telegram and money transfer services since this location offered discounted services to Southeast Asia.

"Good morning, Otis!" the branch manager greeted him, walking over.

Otis nodded respectfully. "Good morning, sir."

"You have a moment, Otis?"

"Yes, sir, of course," Otis replied, unlocking the drawer to his desk and taking out a stack of investment documents relevant to his morning appointments, including an older veteran interested in refinancing his vacation home.

"First, I'd like to really thank you for staying late last Thursday. I really thought flu season was over, never expected so many people to call out. Glad you were able to handle some of the other clients."

"I just do what I can, sir."

"My friends on the college faculty were definitely right to recommend your for this job," the branch manager told Otis, "The feedback from your regular clients has also been positive. I'm impressed by the growth in their investment portfolios despite all the instability going on in our country these days. Starting next week, your wages will be increased by $1.50 an hour."

Otis smiled gratefully at his boss. "Thank you sir. I promise I won't let you down."

Otis didn't mention that that would simply make him equal to the starting wage for a new white employee. Yet coming in here he knew it was already a big jump. Obviously it wasn't right, but there was nothing better he could do about it. His father, who grew up on a sharecroppers' farm in the Deep South, had always taught Otis that in order to make it in America, he had to work even harder and perform even better than a white man. Otis had taken these words to heart. He just hoped and prayed that things would be different by the time Taddarius entered the workforce.


In addition to being a favorite pit stop for truckers driving down State Route 99, Harvey's Family Restaurant was also popular with local residents, and it was JT's favorite place growing up. The fact that Tameesha Cross now worked here gave him and Piney even more reason to grab lunch there after their unpleasant experience with Tina Detty. Loretta Lynn's brand new hit "Coal Miner's Daughter" was playing from the jukebox as they entered the diner and took their seats on the light blue stools by the Formica counter.

"Well Tameesha, we're obviously requesting you as our server," JT said as he looked at some of the new bright neon lights that had been installed overhead.

"And how are you fine fellas doing?" she replied, coming over with two large glasses of freshly brewed Southern-style sweet tea.

"Just glad to be out," JT answered, deciding not to mention what had just transpired at the Detty home. "How's Taddarius? I still need to go meet him!"

"Of course! You need to stop by, maybe tonight or this weekend! He's one now, and thank God my momma's able to take care of him while Otis and I are busy with work and school. We were just thinking that you should be his godfather."

An older white man sitting a few seats down turned his head around and glanced over for a while, but wisely decided to mind his own business. It was 1970 now, not 1955.

"You know, I would be honored," JT replied. "Y'all are far ahead of me when it comes to life. You're married, got a wonderful son. I come back here, single, no kids, girlfriend's moved on as I had expected."

"Don't you worry about that, JT," Tameesha told them as she handed them the menus, JT marveling at all the items that weren't there the last time he ate here. "Only God knows what's in store for you. Often when you're not looking is when the right person shows up in your life. The Lord has a plan for all of us, don't you worry about that, JT."


Jimmy made sure his face was mostly covered with a handkerchief and his baseball cap as he got out of the Dodge Maxivan and walked two doors down to a donut shop where the crowd had thinned after the end of the lunch hour. He looked down and coughed, heading toward the rear where the bathroom was located. Rogers had decided against a direct extraction from the street in front of the credit union since an unknown man abandoning a car at that location would probably arouse suspicion so he posed as a customer who couldn't find any street parking closer to the donut shop. After entering the bathroom and flushing the toilet for good measure, he left but instead continued toward the back into the alleyway and followed it until he came to a different street, where a Weather Underground terrorist was waiting.

"C'mon, let's move," the other young radical said, dressed in a In N Out Burger uniform left over from his high school job to also deflect attention. The driver handed Jimmy his watch as he got in the passenger seat and the car pulled out into the early afternoon traffic.

The timing was perfect. Jimmy beamed and gave the victory sign to the driver as they both heard and felt the explosion, then heard the screaming of bystanders as the vehicle erupted in a giant fireball that tore into the military building.

The terrorist driver slapped Jimmy on the back. "We did it, man! That was beautiful! There's no way those motherfuckers ever saw this coming!"

"We'll celebrate later," said Jimmy in response, "Let's stay focused on the road and get the fuck out of here before the cops set up a perimeter."

Otis Cross looked up at the older gentleman he was meeting with as he laid out several more documents on the table. "Of course, given your situation as well as your credit history, you definitely qualify for a number of additional payment options for the mortgage….."

At that moment, the entire window and wall behind Otis disintegrated and turned into a wall of flame and debris that quickly washed over him, his client, and almost everyone and everything else in the building. The only survivors were those in the break room located in the back of the credit union, and even that area was devastated. The force of the explosion collapsed the roof, causing a beam to come down and completely sever a young woman's leg while three other employees were trapped underneath the rubble. Of those, two would be dead by the time the first responders made it through the rubble, and the other would die in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.


"Oh my God, this can't be happening!" JT and Piney suddenly heard the other waitress cry out in fear. "I….."

Tameesha took a look at the TV screen that the waitress and the other diner patrons were looking at and turned up the volume. At first, she didn't know what the hullabaloo was about since it looked like a scene from Northern Ireland, but then she stopped in her tracks when she saw the local captions flashing across the screen: TERROR HITS CALIFORNIA'S CENTRAL VALLEY, FATALITIES REPORTED IN ATTACK ON LODI MILITARY BANK. The aerial footage from a news helicopter showed the credit union, which occupied an entire city block, engulfed in flames with a plume of black smoke rising into the air. Broken glass from nearby businesses littered the street, as did park benches and outdoor cafe tables strewn around by the force of the bomb blast. A split screen showed bloodied victims begin carried on stretchers into ambulances and the surrounding streets filled with crowds of panicking civilians running away from the area.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" Tameesha gasped, dropping the plates of country fried steak and eggs and fried catfish that she was carrying. The other patrons in the diner were so affixed to the TV that they only gave a cursory glance to the sound of the dishes shattering on the floor behind the counter. "That's where Otis works!" Tameesha screamed desperately as a wave of fear and panic spread through her body. She looked like she was about to faint and JT rushed around into the counter to stop her from falling down as another waitress also went over to comfort her.

"….and this just in," the news anchor was saying from his desk in New York, "for our breaking news story. At least ten people are confirmed dead after a car bomb exploded in front of the Armed Forces Credit Union in Lodi, California. Rescue operations are under way as firefighters continue to battle the blaze that has spread to at least three other downtown businesses. A man calling himself Comrade Jimmy of the Weather Underground claimed responsibility in a phone call to NBC Studios in San Francisco, calling it justice for so-called 'American war crimes' abroad. Comrade Jimmy claims the Weather Underground is now making good on its threat to bring the war home and threatened more attacks until President Nixon ends all U.S. military involvement in Vietnam….."

"California State Police and San Joaquin County sheriff's deputies are on the scene and have cordoned off a three block area around the Armed Forces Credit Union and bomb-sniffing dogs are currently searching for additional explosives planted in the area…." the news anchor continued to update the viewers, but JT and Piney were already physically supporting Tameesha as the three of them rushed outside to their bikes.

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