Friday, 14 August 2009
Afternoon passes into early evening, its hot and humid and the sweat glistens on the shaven heads of the Skinheads gathered down the overgrown track road. Cars and pickup trucks line the sides of the road all the way down to the cul-de-sac, wooden fencing running around the gravel covered courtyard in front of what used to be Joeys Auto body Shop. Joseph Phillips has long since been under the earth and now the building is called the Rack, a makeshift music venue and rally point for the Neo Nazi movement in Port Royal. Its located deep in the Ghetto, in a once thriving neighbourhood, where you felt safe and a part of the community, now those times are long since gone. Crime and Violence take over young lives very quickly in the ghetto and Joeys two sons where no different. Jophiel and Elijah Phillips grew up in such an environment, by the time they where in high school their father was already in the ground, financially and physically, his business slowly declined as the area descended into chaos around him. Decent white folk, white Americans where being driven down below the poverty line, driven down into the dirt, into the gutter begging for scraps whilst Jews made all the money, whilst migrants moved in and made them into little annex’s of their own countries…none Anglo-Saxon countries. Joey Phillips put a bullet in his head when they came to take everything he had worked all of his life to provide for his family, for his children. How was that just? How was that fair? Anger boiled in the community as crime rose, as the black, oriental and Hispanic gangs took over the streets, stories of muggings, beatings, rapes and murders filled the newspapers daily. Something had to be done, something had to change, someone had to take a stance and make the change, make society and the American government and the public as a whole stand up and listen. The Neo Nazi movement may have originated in the UK out of the National Front and the British National Party but by the late 80’s America had fully taken it on board, now there are hundreds of such movements and organisations across America allying with white supremacist , like The Aryan Resistance, Christian Identity, and the Klu Klux Klan. One of the most famous and influential of these skinhead groups was the Hammerskin Nation, organically born out of Texas, there are now more than a dozen regional groups across the United States and the World. Elijah and Joff easily fell into the Eastern Hammerskins, embracing the white supremacy propaganda with violent furver and soon became some of the skinhead groups more influential members. The Hammerskins profile increased over the years as they promoted and used urban terrorism in the wake of the high profile publication of the Anarchist’s cookbook which was published by the KKK and street brutality to get their white supremacists views across. They shaved their heads and wore clothing that would define their image and provoke a response from the public at large. The Swastika, seen as highly hated and feared by the rest of the world was the perfect symbol to make people listen to them. They saw the swastika as the true symbol of the white Aryan race that has been used across the passage of time by the lost tribes of Europe, those directly descended from Adam and eve.
The Eastern Hammerskins of Port Royal never really saw themselves as a street gang or felt the need to fight over turf with neighbouring gangs, why fight over something that is by right, by blood, by ancestry their own. Their ancestors came here and faught to make their country, form it, and petty gang wars would only waste valuable resources, resources that could be better spent effecting society as a whole, make them listen to what they had to say, for one of the brothers, Jophiel, the media was the key. Through music he saw a way to influence the dissatisfied youth and bring them to the cause, to fight for the White Aryan Resistance. With the help of the Hammerskin Nations record label, Panzerfaust records, He formed a skinhead punk band called the Bully Boys, now all they needed was a venue, a place to stage their music and bring others from across the United States, somewhere that would be a focal point for the skinheads of the city. With the backing and funding from the National Socialist Party they bought the old auto body workshop and converted into such a place. Nightly this venue is open, bands playing on the makeshift stage, beer flowing from the keg, white supremacist propaganda spewing from the mic. The opposing view point came from Elijah, there where some within the group who did use violence and intimidation to get their views across, vandalizing synagogues, committing random beatings with also some aspects moving into organised crime, such has bank robberies which where often committed to raise funds for the Movement and Elijah was central to that course of action. He became a passionate rally speaker and leader of his so called “Stormtroopers” but always in the background stood Gabriel McQueen a Vietnam war veteran and once a prominent member of the KKK who now owns a gun store and an army surplus store within the Ghetto. He was the one that handed down the pamphlets, the ideas, the indoctrination….Elijah was just an extension of him, someone to act out the old mans dogma. Through Gabriel’s instructions Elijah formed what was to be known within the group as The Core, the group of about half a dozen Neo Nazi’s that showed the right quality’s in running the movement, leading them further in their fight against the System. Elijah and Joff of course took up the first places, their cousin “Tiny” Tomas Alder a rather obnoxious obese man who is mixed up in the selling of narcotics, Shawn Delaney a tall and strongly built man who acted as Tiny’s muscle and enforcer and Forrest Hyde who runs a junkyard which also doubles up as a cutting shop for stolen cars.
The Hammerskin Nation and its regional subgroups are not like other skinhead groups who usually just require you to sign up and pay an annual fee to join. Applicants have to be approved by existing members and go through a trial period where they are watched and assess before they are even considered as members. This trial period can last a matter of a few months or even up to 2 years, the Hammerskins line is that if a movement is only as strong as its weakest link then they must value quality over quantity. Having said that The Core have been busy these last few years and count nearly 200 members across Port Royal.
The Eastern Hammerskins of Port Royal never really saw themselves as a street gang or felt the need to fight over turf with neighbouring gangs, why fight over something that is by right, by blood, by ancestry their own. Their ancestors came here and faught to make their country, form it, and petty gang wars would only waste valuable resources, resources that could be better spent effecting society as a whole, make them listen to what they had to say, for one of the brothers, Jophiel, the media was the key. Through music he saw a way to influence the dissatisfied youth and bring them to the cause, to fight for the White Aryan Resistance. With the help of the Hammerskin Nations record label, Panzerfaust records, He formed a skinhead punk band called the Bully Boys, now all they needed was a venue, a place to stage their music and bring others from across the United States, somewhere that would be a focal point for the skinheads of the city. With the backing and funding from the National Socialist Party they bought the old auto body workshop and converted into such a place. Nightly this venue is open, bands playing on the makeshift stage, beer flowing from the keg, white supremacist propaganda spewing from the mic. The opposing view point came from Elijah, there where some within the group who did use violence and intimidation to get their views across, vandalizing synagogues, committing random beatings with also some aspects moving into organised crime, such has bank robberies which where often committed to raise funds for the Movement and Elijah was central to that course of action. He became a passionate rally speaker and leader of his so called “Stormtroopers” but always in the background stood Gabriel McQueen a Vietnam war veteran and once a prominent member of the KKK who now owns a gun store and an army surplus store within the Ghetto. He was the one that handed down the pamphlets, the ideas, the indoctrination….Elijah was just an extension of him, someone to act out the old mans dogma. Through Gabriel’s instructions Elijah formed what was to be known within the group as The Core, the group of about half a dozen Neo Nazi’s that showed the right quality’s in running the movement, leading them further in their fight against the System. Elijah and Joff of course took up the first places, their cousin “Tiny” Tomas Alder a rather obnoxious obese man who is mixed up in the selling of narcotics, Shawn Delaney a tall and strongly built man who acted as Tiny’s muscle and enforcer and Forrest Hyde who runs a junkyard which also doubles up as a cutting shop for stolen cars.
The Hammerskin Nation and its regional subgroups are not like other skinhead groups who usually just require you to sign up and pay an annual fee to join. Applicants have to be approved by existing members and go through a trial period where they are watched and assess before they are even considered as members. This trial period can last a matter of a few months or even up to 2 years, the Hammerskins line is that if a movement is only as strong as its weakest link then they must value quality over quantity. Having said that The Core have been busy these last few years and count nearly 200 members across Port Royal.
Back in the Rack after nightfall the music starts, The Bully Boys are on stage, their kit and their 3 members take up the whole of the wooden platform, a rapid ska punk tune blasts out of the PA system and Jophiel screams down the microphone.
“We're proud of where we're from, We're proud that we're white, Proud that we're Skins, Proud that we fight.... It's the way we are, it's what we believe, Hatred is what I feel, peace I don't need!”
The crowd clusters around the front of the stage, pushing and shoving each other, fists and elbows fly, its no holds bard in the moshpit tonight, a Hammerskin has just been released from prison and its his welcome home celebration, the Skins of Port Royal are out in force to usher a noble stormtrooper back into the fold. Scarlet stands to the back of the room, arms folded across her chest, cigarette burning in-between her bony fingers and beside her members of the Core chat and drink, shooting the shit. Her newly formed ghoul, Tiny, is one of them, being loud and obnoxious again with a plastic glass of beer in his hand. The bar sells cut price drinks straight from the keg which was most likely stolen off the back of a truck. Tiny keeps giving his new master strange looks as he talks with his friends, still coming to terms with the fact that this small thing, this woman is more powerful than anyone else in this room, the fact that she’s undead, a vampire, one who drinks the blood of others to sustain herself, who kills and bathes in the blood of her victims. That’s some hardcore shit man, he had said, fucking hardcore. Scarlet had noticed his unease before she told him, revealed herself and her true nature, knew that he suspected that something wasn’t quite right. Who woulda thought he had the intuition?
Tiny was Scarlets way into the Hammerskins, yeah she was as violent as the rest of them, even more so, and yeah her brothers name had gotten her accepted, past the first hurdle but it would take something more for them to truly let in a female, a Skinbird as they called her, into their beloved Core. Scarlets brother Scott was a leading member of the Hammerskins in Miami and had often met up with these guys at rallys, his exploits had earned him respect within the Hammerskin Nation and a 15 years for armed robbery. Her family had given up much for the W.A.R, the White Aryan Resistance , Scarlets younger brother having died in race riots in Miami’s ghetto.
Now that she had an ear to whisper into, someone that would listen and implement her plans and idea’s and have up to nearly 200 foot soldiers at her disposal then maybe her Sect mates might start taking notice of what she’s trying to achieve nightly, so they might see what’s taking up her time spent away from her pack and sect mates. She looks around her, over the hard and hate filled faces of the skinheads, all young and dissatisfied with their lot in life and wanting to do something about it, to stick it to the man, to bring about change, by challenging and bringing down the system. She looks around a sees a small army, ready for battle, for whoever has the power to control them.
She glances up and sees the heavy set middle aged man standing on the steps that lead up to his office. Gabriel pushes his glasses up he bridge of his nose and smokes a cigar, Elijah standing next to him, both are impressive men, born to lead, her eyes narrow, there was the real power behind the throne. Gabriel is the intelligent one, the Vietnam vet, the one that manipulates the rest, these others are just grunts, shock troops…he is the one with the vision. She smiles at some joke Tiny makes pretending it was funny and plans slowly form in her mind.
“In a darkened nation, a strong flame burns, A different breed of people, one that won't turn ,A total dedication to our race, We fight the opposition, face to face.... We will raise our hands, Sieg Heil! When the battle is done we will raise our flags Hammerskins!…” Jophiel shouts down the microphone and the music drops suddenly away, his legs snap together and he does a Nazi salute, the crowd cheering and shouting Sieg Heil! Sieg Hail! As the band exits stage left.
9th of July, 2006
The sun sets on Port Royal and a cool sea breeze blows in from the ocean, the temperature drops and the streets of downtown are busy with people and cars, as the heat of the day passes, people who have been hiding from the suns raze start to venture out. The sky darkens and the city descends into evening.
In the Rack, skinheads mingle, beer flows and their chatter rises over the background noise of cd playing. Scarlet stands close to the bar arms folded across her chest. Her skinhead brethren move around her, they see her, know of her but they choose to keep a wide birth, something in her posture, her manner that intimidates them, yes Scarlet aint no home maker, she’s here for the long haul, to see their dream of white supremacy fulfilled, she will be there on the front line, fighting the system. They have no doubt. The skin chicks look on her as a model for themselves, this is what a female skinhead should be, why leave it to the men? Cant women hold a rifle too? Fire it? Shed blood?
Scarlet pulls her braces up her shoulders and lights a cigarette as the music dies away and Gabriel takes the stage, his thick dark rimmed glasses pushed up his nose. His hair is cut military style, a buzz cut, most likely a style he’s had since the 60s, back when he was fighting for his country in Vietnam, fighting for Americans that didn’t give a shit about them, that spat on them when they came back. They where war hero’s and when they came back injured, mentally and physically handicapped from the trauma of war…what did they receive? Nothing, being lucky not to succumb to depression and taking their own lives, where is the dignity in that?. Perhaps that’s why Gabriel is angry at his country, at his government…at the state of society, perhaps that’s why he is so filled with hate, having seen his friends butchered in front of him for a country that didn’t give a damn. Maybe that’s why he stands in front of these young men and women now and takes hold of the mircophone.
“My brothers and sisters….I look upon you and I see a room full of promising young individuals…great examples of the Aryan race…but ones held back in life…by society! By those damn Jews in the government. You all could be much more….so much more…if society is forced to change. ….Unemployment is high they say?” Gabriel paces slowly holding the mircophone away from his mouth, pausing for effect as her gazes at the crowd who all look up at him, listening attentively like hes some kind of prophet, some kind of messiah. Scarlet’s heard all this before, her ears are deaf to it, mind and soul immune. “Un employments high?” he repeats “Can you get a job?” He points at a thick headed thug in the front row.
“Hell no!” he reply’s
“And you?” he asks another “No?…that’s cuz all these foreigners have taken em all!….so they say unemployment’s high…well then sent them all back to where they came from and give honest white Christian folk like you good people a better chance in life…to provide for your families, to improve your lot in life…am I right?”
“Fuck yeah!”
“But we can talk and talk about what we should be doing, we have talked enough…we all know what needs to be done to take on the System.” he pauses and looks on at the crowd “and im sure that you all have your own…ideas” he smiles and several of the crowd chuckles. “you all have your orders….orders from God!” holding up his fist “It is your god given right…by the American constitution…that you bare arms against your enemy’s…and I tell ya something….no one gunna take my gun away from me…” He pulls out his handgun and holds it loose in his hand. “What bout you?” Guns appear in the crowd, held high. “That’s what I thought…aint that a pretty sight” He takes a long look over the crowd, eyes resting on Scarlet, she stares back meeting his gaze. “I look upon you and see my children….and feel pride”
“We're proud of where we're from, We're proud that we're white, Proud that we're Skins, Proud that we fight.... It's the way we are, it's what we believe, Hatred is what I feel, peace I don't need!”
The crowd clusters around the front of the stage, pushing and shoving each other, fists and elbows fly, its no holds bard in the moshpit tonight, a Hammerskin has just been released from prison and its his welcome home celebration, the Skins of Port Royal are out in force to usher a noble stormtrooper back into the fold. Scarlet stands to the back of the room, arms folded across her chest, cigarette burning in-between her bony fingers and beside her members of the Core chat and drink, shooting the shit. Her newly formed ghoul, Tiny, is one of them, being loud and obnoxious again with a plastic glass of beer in his hand. The bar sells cut price drinks straight from the keg which was most likely stolen off the back of a truck. Tiny keeps giving his new master strange looks as he talks with his friends, still coming to terms with the fact that this small thing, this woman is more powerful than anyone else in this room, the fact that she’s undead, a vampire, one who drinks the blood of others to sustain herself, who kills and bathes in the blood of her victims. That’s some hardcore shit man, he had said, fucking hardcore. Scarlet had noticed his unease before she told him, revealed herself and her true nature, knew that he suspected that something wasn’t quite right. Who woulda thought he had the intuition?
Tiny was Scarlets way into the Hammerskins, yeah she was as violent as the rest of them, even more so, and yeah her brothers name had gotten her accepted, past the first hurdle but it would take something more for them to truly let in a female, a Skinbird as they called her, into their beloved Core. Scarlets brother Scott was a leading member of the Hammerskins in Miami and had often met up with these guys at rallys, his exploits had earned him respect within the Hammerskin Nation and a 15 years for armed robbery. Her family had given up much for the W.A.R, the White Aryan Resistance , Scarlets younger brother having died in race riots in Miami’s ghetto.
Now that she had an ear to whisper into, someone that would listen and implement her plans and idea’s and have up to nearly 200 foot soldiers at her disposal then maybe her Sect mates might start taking notice of what she’s trying to achieve nightly, so they might see what’s taking up her time spent away from her pack and sect mates. She looks around her, over the hard and hate filled faces of the skinheads, all young and dissatisfied with their lot in life and wanting to do something about it, to stick it to the man, to bring about change, by challenging and bringing down the system. She looks around a sees a small army, ready for battle, for whoever has the power to control them.
She glances up and sees the heavy set middle aged man standing on the steps that lead up to his office. Gabriel pushes his glasses up he bridge of his nose and smokes a cigar, Elijah standing next to him, both are impressive men, born to lead, her eyes narrow, there was the real power behind the throne. Gabriel is the intelligent one, the Vietnam vet, the one that manipulates the rest, these others are just grunts, shock troops…he is the one with the vision. She smiles at some joke Tiny makes pretending it was funny and plans slowly form in her mind.
“In a darkened nation, a strong flame burns, A different breed of people, one that won't turn ,A total dedication to our race, We fight the opposition, face to face.... We will raise our hands, Sieg Heil! When the battle is done we will raise our flags Hammerskins!…” Jophiel shouts down the microphone and the music drops suddenly away, his legs snap together and he does a Nazi salute, the crowd cheering and shouting Sieg Heil! Sieg Hail! As the band exits stage left.
9th of July, 2006
The sun sets on Port Royal and a cool sea breeze blows in from the ocean, the temperature drops and the streets of downtown are busy with people and cars, as the heat of the day passes, people who have been hiding from the suns raze start to venture out. The sky darkens and the city descends into evening.
In the Rack, skinheads mingle, beer flows and their chatter rises over the background noise of cd playing. Scarlet stands close to the bar arms folded across her chest. Her skinhead brethren move around her, they see her, know of her but they choose to keep a wide birth, something in her posture, her manner that intimidates them, yes Scarlet aint no home maker, she’s here for the long haul, to see their dream of white supremacy fulfilled, she will be there on the front line, fighting the system. They have no doubt. The skin chicks look on her as a model for themselves, this is what a female skinhead should be, why leave it to the men? Cant women hold a rifle too? Fire it? Shed blood?
Scarlet pulls her braces up her shoulders and lights a cigarette as the music dies away and Gabriel takes the stage, his thick dark rimmed glasses pushed up his nose. His hair is cut military style, a buzz cut, most likely a style he’s had since the 60s, back when he was fighting for his country in Vietnam, fighting for Americans that didn’t give a shit about them, that spat on them when they came back. They where war hero’s and when they came back injured, mentally and physically handicapped from the trauma of war…what did they receive? Nothing, being lucky not to succumb to depression and taking their own lives, where is the dignity in that?. Perhaps that’s why Gabriel is angry at his country, at his government…at the state of society, perhaps that’s why he is so filled with hate, having seen his friends butchered in front of him for a country that didn’t give a damn. Maybe that’s why he stands in front of these young men and women now and takes hold of the mircophone.
“My brothers and sisters….I look upon you and I see a room full of promising young individuals…great examples of the Aryan race…but ones held back in life…by society! By those damn Jews in the government. You all could be much more….so much more…if society is forced to change. ….Unemployment is high they say?” Gabriel paces slowly holding the mircophone away from his mouth, pausing for effect as her gazes at the crowd who all look up at him, listening attentively like hes some kind of prophet, some kind of messiah. Scarlet’s heard all this before, her ears are deaf to it, mind and soul immune. “Un employments high?” he repeats “Can you get a job?” He points at a thick headed thug in the front row.
“Hell no!” he reply’s
“And you?” he asks another “No?…that’s cuz all these foreigners have taken em all!….so they say unemployment’s high…well then sent them all back to where they came from and give honest white Christian folk like you good people a better chance in life…to provide for your families, to improve your lot in life…am I right?”
“Fuck yeah!”
“But we can talk and talk about what we should be doing, we have talked enough…we all know what needs to be done to take on the System.” he pauses and looks on at the crowd “and im sure that you all have your own…ideas” he smiles and several of the crowd chuckles. “you all have your orders….orders from God!” holding up his fist “It is your god given right…by the American constitution…that you bare arms against your enemy’s…and I tell ya something….no one gunna take my gun away from me…” He pulls out his handgun and holds it loose in his hand. “What bout you?” Guns appear in the crowd, held high. “That’s what I thought…aint that a pretty sight” He takes a long look over the crowd, eyes resting on Scarlet, she stares back meeting his gaze. “I look upon you and see my children….and feel pride”
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