Sons of leuveN
Death through defiance - allegiance through pain
Tango
Member - West Blaine
b. Unknown
Tango’s past is a ghost. A man once trained to operate deep behind enemy lines, part of an elite British reconnaissance unit that specialized in survival, explosives, and all forms of covert recon. His skills were the kind that kept the enemy guessing, and his reputation was built on getting things done — whether it was evading capture or putting a plan into motion in the most hostile environments.
But once the mission ended and the smoke cleared, Tango found that the quiet between operations was deafening. He needed something new — something that gave him purpose again. So, he traded in his rifle for a set of truck keys and hit the road as a hauler, crossing the dry, endless highways of the southwest. The Great Chaparral Desert, with its blistering heat and endless dust, became his new playground.
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It was out here, far from the cold silence of military life, that Tango’s path crossed with the Sons of Leuven. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just another load to deliver. But the road, as always, has a way of bringing people together. One night, during a stop at the Yellow Jack in Sandy Shores, he met a patched member who didn’t need to speak much — his presence said everything. Tango’s eye caught the man’s colours, and a quiet nod was all it took.
In the coming weeks, Tango kept running cargo, but now the roads felt different. He started to see the Sons more often, working their territory, meeting some of the lads here and there. He wasn’t an immediate part of the crew, but his reputation as a reliable trucker, good with his hands, and never turning down a job began to grow. Whether it was moving cargo or fixing an engine clogged with sand in the middle of nowhere, Tango’s practical skills were always welcome. He didn’t ask questions, just handled what needed to be handled.
Soon enough, he was spending more time around the Yellow Jack, earning the trust of the crew by proving himself capable. The Sons took note of his quiet demeanour and sharp eye, the same qualities that had made him an elite operative. They didn’t offer him a patch right away — no one did. But when the opportunity came, Tango took it. He became a hang-around, showing up when needed and always offering his skills: a mechanic in a world of rusted bikes and worn-out trucks, a soldier who knew the harsh desert conditions like the back of his hand.
The road became his proving ground. As a prospect, Tango found himself in tight spots, facing tests of loyalty that were much harder than any mission he’d ever faced. But he didn’t flinch. He fixed engines, hauled dangerous cargo, and ran security on jobs, all while showing the Sons that his word meant something. No matter how tough things got, he kept moving forward, always calm under pressure — the same way he’d operated in the field.
Finally, after surviving the grind and earning his place, he was patched in. Now, with the Sons, Tango found something more than just the road. He found brotherhood — the kind that could keep him grounded in the madness of the world. The patch wasn’t just a symbol of the past; it was his future, riding alongside the only brothers that mattered.
Favourite bike:
LCC Avarus
