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The Scavenger's Secret: More Than Just Junk

Chapter 1 

Word Count: 558    |    Released on: 24/06/2025

are currency, and my club, t

ed Preacher. For a brawl, you need Wrench.

don, our VP, is a mechanical genius and a brawler who speaks with her fists. And Sabrina "Sweet Pea" Chavez, the newest prospect, has an uncanny

Jennifer Johns. Th

s a sayin

ride a bike to save her life and would probably trip over her own feet in a fight. My offici

d. I prefer

rundown clubhouse, surrounded by what everyone calls my "junk." Piles

ternal perception is even simpler: I'm the club's harmle

eralls, and head to the local scrapyards. I spend hours sifting through moun

crap. They don't see the vintage Italian carburetor hidden inside a busted l

on' t

ctronics when the rest of the Vultures roared back i

eacher was trying to calm everyone down, his voice a low rumble. Wrench sto

unning his mouth. "I'm telling you, Preacher, the Silve

pany, giving us connections but also s

er's arm, her eyes wide with feigned fear. "Preach

, just smiled his charming, easygoing smile. "Let's n

a condition from his army days. He' s nice to everyone b

rag. Their world was one of territory, respect, and violence. My world

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The Scavenger's Secret: More Than Just Junk
The Scavenger's Secret: More Than Just Junk
“In the Iron Vultures biker club, I was Jennifer Johns, the resident weirdo, the perpetually broke scavenger who couldn't even ride a bike. They called me useless, a charity case. But then came the Sturgis Gauntlet, a brutal, mandatory rally that threatened to bankrupt us. Suddenly, the club charter was dragged out, revealing my forgotten title: Treasurer. I was forced to go. On the road, their high-tech bikes overheated, water ran out, and they faced disqualification. I quietly offered up "my junk" – military-grade canteens and custom coolant – saving them. They just looked at me with pity, convinced I was so poor I' d sacrificed my pathetic scrap for them. When we were ambushed by the Silver Vipers, everyone was knocked out, except for me. I hid, then emerged to tend to them, only for Doc, our medic, to accuse me. "You' re the only one untouched. You set us up, traitor." They dumped out my canvas sack, expecting to find proof of betrayal. Instead, a pathetic collection of rusty bolts and frayed wires spilled onto the ground. The anger faded, replaced by overwhelming guilt and pity. They believed I was simply a girl so poor I collected garbage to sell online. They thought I was a loyal but pitiable member, too useless to be anything else. But standing there, watching them see only what they expected, I felt a cold surge of something else. This wasn't pity. This was opportunity.”
1 Introduction2 Chapter 13 Chapter 24 Chapter 35 Chapter 46 Chapter 57 Chapter 68 Chapter 79 Chapter 810 Chapter 9