Sons of leuveN
Death through defiance - allegiance through pain
Tubs
Patched member - Paleto Forest
b. Unknown
Tubs was born in the shadow of the swamp in Cottonmouth, a place where the heat never lets up and the river runs black like ink. He grew up tough, with his daddy’s blood in his veins and a chip on his shoulder from day one. His pops, a hard-drinking, hard-fighting man, never made it out of the bayou alive, swallowed whole by the muck when Tubs was just a kid. Left with just his momma, who’d tell him stories of the corruption that plagued the city and the freedom they would one day have.
But it wasn't until Tubs got older, stronger, and faster that he began the transformation into an outlaw. His ride, an old Zombie Chopper he pieced together himself, earned him street cred, and his size and strength earned him respect. He had a run-in with the Red Kings gang, they tried to push into his neighborhood. Tubs came out swinging and didn’t stop until they learned the hard way that part of Cottonmouth was his to protect.
Cottonmouth was all Tubs knew, until it wasn’t. The turning point came
when his mother, the only family he had left, was found dead under
mysterious circumstances. Some folks said it was the river, others whispered it was the work of the Cartel, who'd been creeping into the bayou, making deals with local thugs. But Tubs knew the truth, it wasn’t just the cartel, and it wasn’t just the river. It was the corruption in Cottonmouth itself, the rot that ran deeper than the swamps.
For years, Tubs had kept his head down, doing what he had to do to survive. But after his mother’s death, something inside him snapped. The town was dead, and the only thing keeping it alive was the poison people kept swallowing. He spent weeks hunting for answers, but the more he dug, the more tangled the mess became. The sheriff was on the take, the local politicians were playing games with the Cartel, and the people who were supposed to be his allies turned their backs when the heat turned up.
After leaving Cottonmouth, Tubs hit the road without a clear destination. All he knew was that he needed to put miles between himself and the place that had broken him. His bike was the only thing he trusted anymore. He rode west, chasing something he couldn’t put into words, freedom, redemption, and maybe even a new purpose.
The first time Tubs rolled into Los Santos, he didn’t know a soul. The sunburned highways stretched for miles, and the desert dust never seemed to settle. He lived on the fringes, crashing in dives, working odd jobs, and picking up fights in bars where the locals didn’t take kindly to outsiders. Tubs had the kind of presence that could either draw people in or send them running, but he didn’t care much either way. He wasn’t looking for a home. He wasn’t even looking for a purpose.
But everything changed in a place called Paleto. It was a motorcycle haven, a little patch of asphalt where the smell of engine oil and burnt rubber hung thick in the air. Tubs had pulled in looking for a cheap meal and a place to sleep. What he found was the Sons of Leuven MC.
Favourite bike:
Western Zombie Chopper
They weren’t the flashy kind of club. The Sons were quieter, darker, and they had a reputation that rang through the motorcycle world: family first, everything else second. The first time Tubs ran into them, it wasn’t by choice. A group of local meth heads, trying to make a quick buck for themselves were caught trying to steal Tubs bags off his bike, outside a dive bar where Tubs had been nursing a beer. They didn’t know who they were messing with. Tubs was ready for a fight and didn’t back down. When fists flew, Tubs was right in the middle of it. The Sons of Leuven, who had been quietly observing from the back of the bar, saw him in action. They didn’t just notice his size or strength, they saw something in him that spoke of loyalty and grit.
After the fight, Overspill, Loin, and Alpha approached him. Impressed by the display of toughness they offered him some work as muscle. Never one to turn down work he took the job and became a hang around of the Sons of Leuven.
Tubs didn’t trust easily, but he also wasn’t stupid. The Sons of Leuven were known in the underground world, they didn’t back down from a fight, but they also took care of their own. After a some time of riding with them, and completing whatever job that was put in front of him, and proving he wasn’t just some wandering drifter, Tubs earned his patch.
He joined the Sons of Leuven not out of desperation, but because for the first time in a long while, he felt like he was part of something real. A brotherhood. A family. No longer just a man running from his past, he was now part of something bigger, and he had a purpose again. Sons Forever Forever Sons.
