Phil's on the take.

Phil’s burner phone rang for the twenty seventh time. It has gone to voice mail at least four times now but clearly Jimmy the Scumbag wasn’t going to stop till he finally got ahold of Phil. Phil slowly peeled himself off his bed and walked the three agonizing steps to his dresser to answer the phone.

“You fucking ducking me? You piece of shit, I own you and when I call you fucking answer.” Jimmy bellowed.

“Hi Jimmy.” Phil replied, his voice betraying no emotion at all.

“You fix this shit! I got you on the payroll to handle this shit and you fix it now!” Jimmy screamed at him.

“What shit? Make some sense Jimmy.” Phil said.

“You fucking spic. You listen to me.” Phil hung up on him. Racist slurs got you hung up on even if you were the mob boss that kept Phil living the good life. Phil closed his eyes and leaned back, feeling his back ache as he did it. His phone rang again and he turned it off, Jimmy was useless right now and there was no point in talking to him, but clearly something was up and even if this was supposed to be a day off for Phil he was pretty sure he was going to get called into to the precinct soon enough.

Phil stumbled to the bathroom, took a piss, undressed and hopped in the shower. The shampoo phase of the shower brought more salt and pepper hair falling out and into his hands, soon his bald spot would be far more than the half dollar sized hole it currently was. The shower completed he walked in front of the mirror and took stock of himself. The bags under his brown eyes were still there, it felt like ages since he’d gotten a full night of sleep. His nose was far too big for his face and he was a good fifty pounds overweight and his teeth were the shade of yellow you can only get from a three decade long smoking habit.

“Not looking good for making sixty.” He said to himself as he walked back into the bedroom and started getting dressed. Phil might be a sickly, ugly looking man but he sure as shit had a great selection of suits and he knew how to dress. Today was likely going to be active so a light tan cotton shirt and suit was the choice with a matching pair of loafers. He was adjusting his black and white striped tie as his real phone rang.

“Hello Alice” Phil answered.

“Hello Felipe!” Alice chirped cheerfully. She only ever called him by his given name when she was going to put the screws to him. Given what had happened with Jimmy the Scumbag earlier he was pretty sure the other shoe was about to drop.

“So you ready to make the biggest arrest of your career?” Alice asked him with such insincere joy that Phil wished he could reach through the phone and strangle her.

“And who would that be?” Phil asked.

“Oh you don’t know? You just woke up? You should turn on a TV or check twitter.” Alice told him, the sing-song tone of her voice continued.

Phil walked over to his computer and after a few seconds he was on twitter and his stomach dropped. The hashtag #SammyThePsycho was trending. Sammy was Jimmy’s son and a complete lunatic and it was obvious now that the idiot had fucked up.

“So what did Sammy do?” Phil asked.

“Shot up the Davey Jones. Two wounded one in critical condition. Odds are he was on a drug bender and something set him off. There’s plenty of cell phone video of the final few gunshots and folks running on youtube and we’re processing the security cameras now.” Alice told him.

“So go pick him up.” Phil told her curtly.

“Sammy’s gone running, and since we have you, our resident expert on the Martello crime family handy. I figured you should be the one to go get him.” Alice told him as she hung up. It was an open secret in the LBPD that Phil was on the Martello payroll but Alice was spitting in his face with this demand. Forcing Phil to go deal with Jimmy the Scumbag and ask him to turn over his son was going to be a tough task.

He grabbed his badge and gun and headed out to the Fog night club. Fog was Jimmy the Scumbag’s business front and where he spend most of his time harassing young women. Phil arrived and saw the two armed guards standing in front of the building.

Phil walked up and showed his badge. The men didn’t budge.

“Really motherfucker? We’re going to play this game?” Phil turned toward the security camera. “You stupid fuck, let me in or I let the Street Team run point on finding your fucking kid.” The Street Team was an anti-gang unit who had more than their fair share of shootings in the past few years.

The armed men finally backed down and Phil entered Fog. Seated in the middle of the dance floor was Jimmy the Scumbag and some of his trusted flunkies seated at a table. To look at Jimmy was to hate him, a bloated bald frog of a man with liver spots all over his arms and face. Jimmy had taken over the Martello crime family mostly because nobody else had wanted the job, but that didn’t mean folks liked him running things. He’d survived a car bomb two years ago and a drive by a few months after that.

“How you going to fix this shit?” Jimmy hissed at Phil as Phil walked towards him.

“Fix? What fucking fix you looking for? Your idiot kid shot people on tape. It’s out there, you and all the rest of these assholes should be in a church praying neither of the victims he shot dies or he’s never getting out of prison.”

“If you can’t help me why the fuck do I pay you? Why shouldn’t I kill you right now?” Jimmy snapped.

“Cause I’ve saved a half dozen drug shipments, shipments that kept your little organization tread water till you finally hit it big with the casinos. You need a tip off on an investigation, you get it. You need strings pulled so cops aren’t somewhere so you can wack some fuck, you get it. What you don’t get is the ability to sweep a mass shooting under the rug.” Phil said.

“So what we do?” Jimmy asked.

“Find your idiot kid, have him come in. Buy a few lawyers and a judge and have him plead guilty to everything and odds are he’ll do five years or so and get out.” Phil told him.

“My kid can’t do prison he’s a fucking idiot. He’ll beat up an inmate or a guard or some other dumb shit.” Jimmy pleaded.

“Jimmy.” Phil said as he tapped on the table. “This isn’t even an open and shut case. This is worse than that. Your kid is going down, every lawyer in this town can’t wait to sue you for millions for the injuries to those people your kid shot. The DA has every lawyer on his staff begging for this case so they can throw your kid behind bars and throw away the key and then run for congress promising to be tough on crime. Sammy’s fucked, plain and simple, he’s fucked. Five years in a club fed is the happy ending to this story. The unhappy endings are much worse.” Phil finished.

Jimmy bowed his head. “Can we wait and see if they die before he turns himself in?” he asked.

“You know they sent me here to put the screws to me. I got to have a lead on the kid. You got twelve hours tops, maybe before they rip this town apart looking for him and then I got no promises on if he gets shot or not being taken into custody. Your best bet is to wait eight hours or so and then make a call and start a negotiation with Alice, bullshit with her but keep her in the loop and turn him in within a day. Hopefully it’ll be clear they both are alive by then.” Phil said.

“If they die.” Jimmy started.

“If they die and you try to smuggle him out of the country know you’ll be under a microscope for the rest of your life and fucking nobody’s going to help you. Turn your idiot kid Jimmy. Either way, turn him in.”

Jimmy sighed. His giant mass began shaking as he started to sob. Phil didn’t have time for his misery and he turned and walked out of the nightclub. Phil made it three blocks before he noticed the black sedan that had been tailing him ever since he left the nightclub.

“The fuck you want?” Phil asked the driver.

“Get in the fucking car.” The driver told him.

“Fuck that. I’m not some chump who gets thrown in the back of a car and gets the speech about what a shame it would be if something were to happen to little Susie.” Right as Phil said that he saw the man exiting the back of the sedan and reaching for a gun in his waistband.

Phil’s gun was in his hand in the blink of an eye. The goon slowly pulled his hand away from his piece.

“You were seriously about to draw down on a LBPD detective? Are you really that fucking stupid? I know I don’t look like much, but as you can see my draw is pure and I’m really good at hitting center mass at target practice. Of course right now we’re at point blank range here so I can close my eyes and still rip you full of holes. I’ve only ever killed one man in the line of duty in fourteen years, so exactly why did you go and try to make me double my total?” Phil said.

“This shooting happened on Roger Bosco’s turf.” The goon said.

“None of the Bosco Cartel got shot, it was a coked up idiot making a mistake.” Phil said.

“A mistake that made the Davey Jones lose tens, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars as your police shutdown our gaming area to investigate the shooting.” The goon said.

“He write the speech out for you? You fucking kidding me? If Bosco wants to start a gang war then that’s fine but to bullshit me that it’s over Sammy’s little hissy fit is a bit much.” Phil told him.

“Well maybe if Sammy was given to us we’d think about not doing something so violent.” The goon told him.

“Get the fuck back in the car.” Phil told him and the goon got back in the car. After a few moments the car drove away. Phil put his gun away and sighed, this was going to be a shit storm and he was dead in the middle of it. 

The Blackmail of Max Roper

Max heard the banging on his office door. It was not a timid knock of a person who was intimidated by the idea of meeting with one of the heads of the revolutionary government. Instead it sounded like the knock of a man with an agenda.

“Come on in.” Max said as he got to his feet and headed over to his icebox, this was likely going to be a meeting that would require alcohol to get through it. “Ah Colonel Rogers, what a pleasant surprise to have the hero of the battle of Sutton’s Pyre here to visit us.” Max said with the warmest smile he could fake. Rogers’ body language was of a man practically boiling over with rage, he was stiff as a board with his fists clenched and his jaw was so tight that Max thought the man’s teeth might shatter any second.

Max pretended to ignore the fact that his visitor seemed nearly murderous in his anger as he grabbed the bottle of black gin and two glasses.

“This is black gin. The berries that produce it are only ripe for two months and then it’s another year of agonizing wait. They are only found in a section of land on the island of the Four Great nations and on the boarder of Tomzzi and Camcamta, pretty sure wars have been fought over it.” Max said as he poured himself a drink and then poured one for Rogers, who didn’t react in the slightest to the offer. With a nod Max accepted the man’s refusal and began to sip his beverage.

“I’m not here to drink.” Rogers said the words almost spat out of his mouth rather than spoken. He reached into his black jacket, and then with a thud the man dropped a small tan book onto Max’s desk. “You know what this is.” Rogers hissed at Max.

Max looked at the book for a few moments, he had a good few ideas as to what exactly the book might be but he never planned to venture a real guess, better to let Rogers play all his cards.

“This.” Rogers began. “This is Pete Blackwell’s journal, his real journal. I served under the man for three years, I received countless orders from the man and I know what his handwriting looks like and this book is his. That pack of lies you got your minions to publish in the papers about how he was questioning the use of poison gas, about his distrust and worry about the king, all of that was bullshit and you knew it.”

Max pondered interjecting but then decided against it. He went back to drinking his rum as he let Rogers keep going on his tirade.

“Pete was nothing but loyal to the king, the king had no reason to distrust him or to assassinate him. It was you. You fucking piece of shit, you and all these smarmy assholes running around trying to make a new government, you motherfuckers are the ones that put that bullet into Pete’s heart. You’re the ones that lied to the army, lied to the whole fucking world about what happened and blamed the king for it.” Rogers pale green eyes stared daggers into Max as he kept talking. “I stood on that hill waving the flag you motherfuckers made. I rallied an army to kill a king because I thought he had killed my general, my leader, the man I’d have done anything for, but it was you, you killed him.” Rogers seethed as he leaned over the desk glaring at Max. Rogers face was bright red, his hand stroked his salt and pepper beard for a moment before sliding towards his hip. Max knew nobody was supposed to have guns in the committee chamber but often officers of the military flouted that rule. Rogers didn’t draw a pistol but his hand remained ominously near where such a gun should be. “Every ordinance, ever decree your corrupt government gives out is written in Pete Blackwell’s blood. You are hypocrites and monsters of the highest order.” Rogers said.

Max took a long drink from his glass before putting the glass down on his desk. He gave a wry smile at the old solider before slowly walking alongside him and beginning to speak.

“You think what we did was wrong? Toppling a tyrant who was gassing his own people, who had abolished the Senate and was seeking to destroy any dissent to his rule in the press, killing reporters, publishers, anyone who that he could get his hands on that spoke out against him got the short drop and a broken neck. Yes Pete Blackwell was a willing thug who committed the crimes his king wanted him to commit, is that what you want to tell the public, that Pete Blackwell was every bit the butcher old king Walter was? That if we’d left him be he’d have gassed Paradise for no military gain what-so-ever because by that point the Believers had their army well equipped with gas masks. That he’d have only killed tens of thousands of innocent civilians in a foolish attempt to take a city his army could never hold.” Max glared at Rogers for a moment before turning to refill his glass.

“Yes we lied, but it was a lie that needed to be told. We needed an army to depose the king, Pete had one and we took it. Yes we took it under false pretenses but I lose no sleep over what I’ve done. It was what had to be done and the nation is better for it. Now that we’ve cleared the air here. Tell me Colonel Rogers, what exactly is it that you want from me?” Max said as he turned and went back to his bottle of black gin.

“What do I want?” Rogers asked with a confused tone in his voice.

“Don’t bullshit me. You didn’t bring that little book to some reporter or folks working to undermine the government that we’re busy at work trying to establish here. You came with it to me and that means you want something, so spit it out, what do you want from me?” Max asked as he poured himself another glass.

“I want the twenty two year term on the National Court. I want to be the longest serving judge in the history of this country you’re building.” Rogers said with his eyes fixed upon Max.

“First of all you have no legal background, you’re a warrior, not a scholar, and second of all Judge Whiteflare has been an outspoken advocate for the rebellion since the first gas attack became public. The man is literally writing the laws this nation will define itself by, if anyone is assured of anything in this new nation of ours it’s him getting the twenty two year term.” Max replied as he started working on his second glass.

“No legal background? You know how many men I’ve executed for desertion? How many crimes both big and small I’ve had to dispense justice for in order to maintain the integrity of my army? I’ve got plenty of knowledge of right and wrong and what the law is.” Rogers glared at Max for a moment. “Even if I didn’t. I still have this book and that means you give me what I want.”

“You really don’t understand how blackmail works do you?” Max chided him. Rogers remained silent with his face twisted in a scowl. “Colonel my good man let me tell you something, there’s not a day I don’t wake up and expect to find out some dark truth about myself or this revolution has been exposed to the light of day. My closet has more skeletons in it than a graveyard. So I know a thing or two about blackmail. The way this is supposed to work.” Max paused as he took another drink. “Is that the blackmailer has information the victim doesn’t want made public, the victim then provides some favor to the blackmailer so the information stays secret. Let’s say that I go to the other folks on the National Court committee and I push for you to get on the court, much less the cherry job there. They’ll know you got dirt on me, they’ll harass me about it, they’ll harass you about it. They might not find your little book but they’ll keep digging till they find something.”

Max drained his glass and poured another one, today was not a day for sobriety.

“And if by some miracle they don’t find some dirt on us to expose our sham relationship they’ll just invent a lie. Same as we did when we murdered General Blackwell, and same as that lie the public will swallow it whole because it’s reasonable to believe. Literally any crime they want to accuse me of will work. Buggery, murder, bribery, it’s all fair game. I give you this job it’ll be the end of my career, and maybe the end of my life as a free man if they want to drum up charges and throw me in jail. There’s no way Colonel.” Max finished his statement by downing his latest glass in one shot, the glass hitting the table with a loud bang.

Colonel Rogers went to speak but Max raised a finger to shush him.

“I’ll get you on the National Court. Not the twenty two year term, not the twenty, but sometime around sixteen I’ll bring your name up. I’ll talk about how you were a hero in the revolution who would bring honor and esteem to the court by your presence. I’ll sell them on the idea that putting a man with no legal training on the court will set a good precedent for future Presidents to be able to name heroes to the bench. Having one or two common folks to rub elbows with all the high minded lawyers and judges will keep the court grounded. It might sound like bullshit but I know how to sell it.” Max paused as he poured himself another drink.

“Rumors will get out that your name is in the mix for the National Court. Reporters will hunt you like bloodhounds to find out if it’s true. You’ll play the part of the doe eyed naïve who never sought this office but if called upon to serve the new nation in this role you will find it your duty to serve. Somewhere between the sixteen year term and the ten year one I’ll browbeat the rest of the assholes who will be deciding who sits on the court to give in. You’ll sit in judgement over the greatest issues of our day and age and issue opinions that will be read for generations of legal scholars to come. You will in short be one of the great men of history.” Max flashed a delighted smile as he slammed down yet another glass of rum.

“You really are a piece of sht.” Rogers said through gritted teeth. He reached to grab the journal but Max blocked him.

“You have my word you’ll sit on the National Court. If I fuck you over you can tell the world you’ve found my love letters to another man. I want you on the court and I will put you on the court. Now get out of here and go talk to everyone, make nice with all the other would be Senators and Mayors and Judges and all the other positions we’re going to make happen in this new nation of ours. Make it so everyone remembers you visited the capital and saw lots of people but they forget about our little closed door meeting. I’ll see you in a few months when we’re busy swearing you in as a Justice on the National Court.” Max told him as he walked Rogers to the door.

Rogers gave him one final glare of disapproval before finally walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him. Max turned and looked at his desk where the journal was resting. It was in moments such as this that Max was quite happy that he always kept his fireplace well stocked with kindling and firewood. He got out some matches from his drawer and got to work lighting a fire. After a few moments the fire was raging. Max walked over to the journal and slowly walked back to the fireplace with it.

“Oh Pete. You’re a damned hero. Coins and paper money will have your face upon them. Statues will be raised in your honor. Politicians will long to be compared to you and to be cloaked in your greatness. No greater honor could have ever been done you than the bullet we put in your heart. We saved the world from the truth, you owe us for that.” Max said as he threw the journal into the fire. He watched the flames lick at its edges before finally engulfing the book completely. The fire spiked higher and higher as it fed on the pages of the journal, the great lie of the Republic once again feeding itself on the truth of what happened. There was a quick knock on the door and then it opened a crack. Harold his new aide peaked his bald head inside the room.

“Is there anything you need sir?” Harold asked.

“Harold, I’m burning incriminating documents and getting stinking drunk, what I need is to be left alone, cancel any appointments I have today.” Max snapped back at him.

“Very good sir.” Harold said as he shut the door. 

Oceanside Part 3: The Wolf Speaks

Evenstown was a nothing town that lived in the shadow of its giant prison. The Shithole as it was known was by far the most massive building in the city and turned the name tiny suburb of Oceanside into a threat. Even the local stores sold T-Shirts promoting the fact that they were home to a Supermax that housed some of the world’s most dangerous criminals.

          Keith had made the 50 mile drive from Oceanside down to Evenstown to have a meeting with the man that made him famous. Over thirty years ago Keith had captured the psychopathic maniac known to the media as the Wolf. The man was from the same mold as Keith with the same freakish strength and power but unlike Keith he’d used that power for violence and chaos.

          Entering the Shithole Keith felt nervous. He didn’t exactly know what if any information the Wolf would have for him but he knew he had to ask. He felt bad subjecting the guards to having to bring the Wolf to a visitation room and risk their safety in the process. Keith walked past the visitation room for the normal convicts and made his way to the elevator, he was heading deep into the depths of the prison.

          Getting to this point required a waiver that said you promised not to sue if you didn’t get out of the Shithole alive. Keith had one filed on record from the day he caught the Wolf. They had many conversations since that day and every one of them had unsettled Keith. The two men hadn’t talked in over a decade but now Keith was sitting on his side of the glass waiting for the Wolf to be brought to him.

          The door on the other side opened and the Wolf was bound hand and foot in chains, chains Keith thought the Wolf could break with ease if he’d so desired it. A guard on either side of the Wolf led him to his chair while four more men stood in the background with their nightsticks at the ready. Keith figured it might take maybe fifteen seconds for the Wolf to break his chains and kill all six of them.

          The Wolf sat in his chair, his face looked sunken and drawn, and his hair was shoulder length and pure white. For all the weakness his body showed his horrible emerald eyes showed the fire of the man’s soul and the strength Keith knew was hidden inside him. The Wolf smiled a weak smile and a guard helped put the phone up to his ear.

          “No mask? Guess everyone knows who you are anyhow, old man like you, like us don’t matter much anymore anyhow.” The Wolf said in a polite southern accent.

          “What do you know about a criminal named Doc Silver?” Keith asked him.

          “How could I know anything about anyone? You locked me away in here all those years ago. I spend twenty three hours a day locked away in my little cell, then they give me one hour to lift weights and run in the yard. Awful sweet of them to afford me such luxury.” The Wolf replied, a grin crept across his face.

          “We both know you don’t spend your time in your cell. We both know their schedule benefits you greatly, gives you all the time you need to do whatever you want.” Keith replied with anger in his voice.

          “I’ve been to all the beaches in Europe. Climbed the Eiffel Tower. I’ve seen nature at its most primal and raw in Africa. In the past five years I’ve learned how to commune with people. I met a beautiful young girl in Japan and gained her trust over two long years until finally once day she let me enter her body. Do you know what it’s like to get fucked when you’re a woman? The orgasm isn’t so base and mechanical like a man’s is, it’s spiritual, almost beautiful. Of course I had her butcher her boyfriend and three others before the police subdued her. It was quite the scandal in that peaceful little nation.” The Wolf chuckled and Keith winced, his laugh was demonic.

          “Why didn’t you ever try to figure it out? You have the same gifts I do. Only you spent all your time training your body, never your mind. You never unlocked all the secrets you and I were meant to discover. Like how to breed. Not that you’ve even been trying.” The Wolf taunted him.

          “I met a girl last night.” Keith replied with a smirk.

          “Good on you. Of course you can’t get her pregnant. You never bothered to work that out, how to continue our incredible genes. I was obsessed with it once I figured out what I was. It took a few months till I found the answer. Our sperm don’t play by the rules, it’s supposed to be one gets into the egg and the rest lose, but you and I both know losing isn’t an option for us, so the other sperm break in also and kill the egg and therefor no baby, nothing. I used an eye dropper and just the tiniest bit of semen and I barely penetrated the woman. With a half dozen women and working at it for four years I managed to get three children. One played pro football for seventeen years as an offensive lineman. Another was a girl who is a highly sought after body guard. The third sadly was born white and thus his desire for carnage and chaos in Africa leaves him on the outs with the tribes. They don’t tolerate pale faces, but he still does his work, only it’s from the shadows. I’ve done so much, and yet people think you beat me.” The Wolf shook his head as he finished.

          “I did beat you. I put you in here. Everything else is bluster and bullshit.” Keith told him.

          “Those few seconds after we fell off that cliff, it was all dumb luck who landed where. Just so happened that you were on top of me and broke my leg on impact.” The Wolf responded.

          “I shifted my weight. I saw what was coming when the fall began and I made sure you bore the impact.” Keith told him.

          “That’s really why you’re here. To rub it in my face that you won. To remind yourself of your glory days. To look at the only other man who knows what it’s like to be a God like you do and to see if age has broken me down like it did you. Well I got some bad news for you, you won’t have me to torment for much longer. Four years ago they found cancer in my lung, aggressive cancer, the kind of shit that doesn’t wait around for you to make your arrangements for your death and just dropped you quick. They gave me three months but I knew I’d outlast that. I had no idea how long I had, but now I can feel it getting to me. I got maybe three years left, maybe less and this shit will put me down. No amount of meditation or astral projection will fix it.” The Wolf finished and the two men stared at each other for a minute.

         

“I don’t swing by Oceanside much. I don’t check up on you anymore, you bore me, and lord knows you would screw with my astral projection murders, and they take fucking forever to set up. So no I don’t know anything about this Doc Silver fellow who has you all flustered.” The Wolf paused and gave an evil smile to Keith. “You know that Spooky Brian would have the answers for you, but you don’t want to see him. He’s not a reminder of your great victory. He’s the one that got away. The case you couldn’t close. You’ll have to humble yourself and go to him if you want dirt on this asshole.” The Wolf said.

“You want a show don’t you? Want me to rip up these guards like they were nothing, show you how us old men still got it? Well fuck you, you don’t get a show. Maybe I’ll just find your new woman, maybe I’ll start talking to her, chicks dig ghosts. Next time you fuck her, you’ll be fucking me.” The Wolf said and he hung the phone up. The guards took him away as the Wolf stared Keith down until finally the door to the visitor’s room slammed shut.

The Wolf was right about a lot of things, but more than that he was really rubbing Keith’s nose in the fact that he needed Spooky Brian’s help. If there was anyone on either who knew how to defend against a paranormal attack it was Spooky Brian. To get info on Doc and to protect Maggie Keith was going to have to swallow his pride and see him. 

Oceanside Part 2: Temptation

Keith felt hands all over his body, pressing, pushing him like he was a piece of meat being inspected. A rope wrapped around his neck and then it was gone. He couldn’t move or wake up but he was somehow aware of things around him, voices speaking in calm tones, music in the background, always seemed like there was music.

There was a moment where he felt fully lucid but he couldn’t move his body, he felt restrained, a man kneeling over him staring him in the eyes and then darkness fell over him yet again, he was back in the dream world, random notes of a song, voices, weightlessness, drifting away from reality.

He felt the press of a woman’s lips upon his and he started to stir. His mind tried to figure out if it was real or just another part of the dream. The kiss then turned into a woman laying on top of him, her naked body pressing against his. Keith didn’t remember being naked or being in a bed, his mind started trying to piece together the puzzle.

She felt so good laying on top of him, so soft and warm, her perfume was light but a scent of lavender that drove him crazy. Is this real? His mind kept trying to figure it out. Another kiss, another touch. Is this real?

She initiated the sex and he groaned in agreement as his head lolled back into the pillow. Is this real? The question was now more of an excuse, a way to avoid having to answer questions that he didn’t want to deal with. He hadn’t been with a woman in nearly a decade, getting old and fighting crime makes it hard to get with the ladies and Keith never made time to try to get into bed with them. He’d forgotten how good it felt to be with one, to just fuck a woman for the sake of your own pleasure.

Is this real? Of course it was real, he felt her breath on his face her hands pressing on his face, her hips pushing onto him again and again, it was very real and it was obvious what was happening. He was in this room because Doc had put him here, this girl had been sent by Doc to fuck him, to show him the good life he could have if he’d just sell out and join Doc. Everything about this was a set-up, he hated every bit of him.

But none of that was going to stop him from finishing, he’d gone way too far to not gratify himself with that pleasure. When it hit him it was a feeling beyond any he’d had in ages, yet in the moments after he resented himself for giving in to the sex. Doc had won and he knew it.

“They said you’re an old man, you don’t look old, you sure don’t fuck old.” The girl said as she laid on top of him. Keith didn’t reply, he faked being asleep as laid beneath her. “I knock you out gramps?” she asked him playfully while she lightly slapped his cheek. “Good to know my sex is as powerful as that cattle prod Doc carries around.”

          The girl left the bed and hit the shower. Keith stared at the ceiling as he tried to figure out what exactly was he going to do. Being naked was a big problem since he couldn’t just storm out of the room and start hunting down Doc to get his revenge. He hoped the girl would leave after her shower and give him some time to think by himself.

          The water in the shower stopped and after a few minutes she returned to the room with a phone in her hand. “Yeah he’s sleeping, yeah we fucked. Oh come on don’t act so surprised, nobody can resist me.” She told the other person on the phone, a person Keith assumed to be Doc. In the darkness of the room he could make out her body, she was thin with not much of an ass but in profile she clearly had an amazing pair of tits. Bee stung lips and short dyed red hair completed the package of a woman who men would kill each other for the right to be with.

          “He could be faking being asleep but I’m not messing with him. You said he could crush my skull like a grape if he was angry, so no thanks. I did my job, you can call the phone and leave him a message. I got yoga class in fifteen minutes so I got to get moving.” She said as she hung up the phone. He saw her pull out a piece of paper and write something on it and then she was gone.

          Keith waited for a couple minutes, then he heard a phone ring in the closet next to the bed, he waited for the ringing to stop and then finally he pulled himself into a seated position on the bed. His whole body felt tired, like he’d just spend the last four hours lifting weights. He had no idea how long he’d been out cold, how many drugs had been pumped into his system. With more effort than he’d care to admit he got to his feet and walked over to the closet.

          He opened the closet door and was amazed at how big it was, practically the size of a small room and filled with clothes. In the middle of the room was a small table with three bricks of hundred dollar bills and a cell phone that had “One new voicemail” on the display. Keith grabbed the phone and called the voice mail.

          “I thought you would be too uptight to fuck Maggie but she is quite the sexy little thing. Good on you for having a taste of the finer things in life. In this closet is a wardrobe all for you my good friend. Everything tailored to your body, which must be a real bitch to find good fitting clothes for given how barrel chested you are, my men put together a fine collection of outfits for you. We even have a bunch of your masks in the boxes at your feet. More breathable, more visibility then that old piece of shit you were wearing.”

          Keith paused the message, exactly who the fuck was this Doc character? He felt like he was fighting the devil himself and that this was a battle for his soul. Why didn’t this guy just kill him when he had the chance, why give him all this?

          He hit the button and turned the message back on. “Take anything and everything you want from here. Enjoy it, look good, have some money, enjoy your life. Quit gunning down drug dealers in the shitty parts of town. Let me reward you for your four decades of protecting Oceanside, and let me protect this city now. Keep this phone, call me when you’re ready to talk.” With that the message ended.

          Keith pulled out the new masks and slid one on and damn if it wasn’t as Doc said it would be. He practically didn’t even feel it on his face as he wore it. The pants and shirts also were perfect fits. He took the pile of money stuffed it in his pockets. A little of it would go to fund his purchase of a new gun, most of it would be given to a local homeless shelter, he’d never really cared about money and felt like he could resist that temptation.

          Yet as he walked towards the door of the hotel room he felt doubt creeping in. He’d already given into sex, he was already wearing the clothes Doc gave him, why wouldn’t he spend Doc’s money and live the good life, why wouldn’t he sell out?

          He shook his head, he needed to hit the pavement and start getting some answers on who Doc really was and what he was up against. Right as he opened the door he turned and saw the paper Maggie had written on, it was a business card. “Maggie Mall, photographer.” It read, he filled it over and saw on the back the message “Call me, I’ll give you one night free.” And a number. Keith winced, part of his mind wanted to rip the card up then and there and be rid of her.

          The card went into his pocket. He knew he wanted to get laid again soon, but first he had to get some answers. 

Oceanside Part 1: Meeting Doc

“You’re only about four blocks away from the abandoned warehouse on Grier Street. Swing on by and we’ll get you trending on Twitter.” The voice told him before hanging up. Keith shattered his phone in his hand, somebody had gotten ahold of his information and was trying to threaten him. As the shards of his smart phone began hitting the pavement he started running through a list of people who had his number and how they could have been got to.

                The mask slid over his face as it has thousands of times before. In that moment he went from being just another man walking on a street to the protector of the city of Oceanside. Keith dropped into a deep squat as he fought to calm his mind. The soreness in his body begged him not to go forward, to wait for a better time to go after whoever it was that had made this call. A series of deep breaths still didn’t convince him to get up and walk towards the warehouse.

                Finally he pulled himself up and walked the final block. The shattered windows and colorful graffiti tags made it clear nobody had occupied the building for legitimate reasons for years. It was the type of place that existed for homeless squatters to find warm and for criminal scumbags to find cover from the law. Keith hoped it wasn’t the place where an asshole killed a hero.

                “I’m not going to die in this shithole.” Keith muttered under his breath. He steeled himself and walked to the knocked down front door of the building and stepped inside. The place was practically pitch black but he could make out lights in the distance to his left. The walk towards those lights revealed a man in an all-white suit, even white dress shoes. Two bound and gagged men were sitting on the ground beside him. Keith scanned the area for threats in the darkness. He could see a man hiding in the shadows to his right and there was a catwalk above him but no signs of anyone there.

                “You made it. That’s just great.” The man began his speech. Assholes like him always had speeches to give. Keith debated drawing his Glock 22 and just emptying the clip into him right there and then and being done with it, but out of professional courtesy to the criminal underworld he stayed his hand.

                “You’re the Ghost of Oceanside. Or the Oceanside Savior. You’ve got many names, but the one thing that’s certain is that you’ve been doing this for forty years. Which means that either there is a team of you and the mask is being passed around by a gang of do-gooders, which I doubt very much.  Or, and this is the option I’m banking on. You’re old as fuck now.”

                Keith fought to keep his shoulders from sagging. He suppressed the urge to take a deep breath. He never showed weakness in confrontations like this but having somebody call him out for his age and knowing they were right hurt. It had been long time since somebody had gone after him rather than just viewed him as a problem to be dealt with while they did their crimes.  Everything about the situation was bad and it felt like it would get worse.

                “So look pops, I want to make this easy on you. These two men here.” The man gestured to bound and gagged men on the floor beside him. “They fucked me over. Supposed to do a job for me and they screwed it up. You put one in the dome of each of them and I’ll bring over a suitcase full of cocaine and it’ll look like you cleaned up a drug deal and put two pushers out of business. The local press will love it. Your brand of extrajudicial violence will be back in fashion.”

                Keith squinted as the man paced back and forth as he spoke. “I want you on the payroll. I want you to be the velvet glove that holds my iron fist. You will be the public face of my wrath, all the other criminals who fuck with me, who try to take business away from me on my turf. I’ll put them up on a tee for you to blow away. I bet you’re asking what’s in it for you. Well lots of money. I got more than I know what to do with. You’ve been fighting crime for all these years and what has it ever gotten you? I’ll make you rich beyond your dreams.”

                The man turned on his heels and stopped walking. “The other thing is that if you refuse. I will kill you.”

                Keith let the silence hold, he wanted to see if the man would get nervous from the quiet or if he’d start barking demands at him. Keith seethed as the asshole remained cool and composed the whole time, his brown eyes calming holding his stare upon Keith’s masked face.

                “Why shouldn’t I just blow you away right now?” Keith asked him. Keith slowly started to reach for his Glock.

                The man flashed a wide smile. “First of all I’m sorry. I’ve been quite rude this whole time. My name is Patrick Silver, but everyone calls me Doc. Second of all if you even flinch to hard my good friend James Garfield up there will put a .50 caliber bullet in your back. I know bullets have a tough time getting through that flesh of yours, but I’m thinking a high powered rifle and a big bullet will do the trick.”

                “Bullshit, there’s nobody up there.” Keith snapped back at him.

                Doc pointed to one of the two men on the ground and a moment later the man’s head violently exploded. A horrible spray of gore erupted from the man’s head with a large amount of blood, brain and skull fragments landing on Doc’s suit. The still living man began frantically wimpering and thrashing as the blood began to pool around him from the head of the other man.

                Keith quickly looked up at the catwalk and now he saw the metal plates that had composed the sniper’s nest the man was hiding behind. He couldn’t believe he’d missed it before and his uncertainty about things made him feel his heart rate elevate. It had been years since he’d felt panic or nerves and now it was all bubbling up. He was grateful that the mask kept his face hidden as he could feel the warmth of his skin and knew his face was reddening.

                “That’ll cost a few bucks for the dry cleaning.” Doc said with a smile. “Named for a fallen president, obsessed with the death of another, James is an odd man, but he’s a great shot. He likes taping the shootings.” Doc said as he pointed to a clunky box of a camera on a tripod nearby. “It’s the same camera type as the one that filmed the shooting of JFK. He’s going to go home and watch how this guy’s head exploded and compare and contrast it with that Catholic fuck. He’s like those 9/11 truthers only about JFK. A JFK truther I guess.”

                “You mean he’s a conspiracy buff.” Keith replied.

                Doc paused as if he’d never heard the words before. “I like JFK truther better.” He looked at Keith for a moment. “So you taking the deal? Can I make you rich? I really want to make you rich.” He said. Keith could tell there was a bit of a pleading tone to Doc’s demand.

                Keith wondered if he had a choice in the matter. He knew that he didn’t trust Doc and that the offer he was giving him sounded preposterous, but the real question was, could he refuse it? “I don’t trust you.” Keith said. “And I don’t work with criminals, so thanks but no thanks.” Keith told him. It took everything he had to sound confident, even defiant as he spoke, but deep down he feared he might have just said his last words.

                Doc pointed to the still living man on the floor. Keith screamed “No!” but it was too late, the man’s head exploded and he slumped to the ground dead. Doc kneeled down and lifted the man into a seated position. Blood began to soak into the knees and sleeves of Doc’s suit.

                “I want you to look at how fucking dead this guy is. Motherfucker here is real fucking dead. I can kill you whenever I want to. I mean this guy’s skull is in pieces. I can see what’s left of his brain. You would rather suffer that fate than be rich and live a life of luxury?” Doc shook the man’s body a few times, chunks of gore fell on the floor all around him. “Or maybe you think there’s a catch, maybe you think there’s something I’m hiding from you. Maybe it’s just a lack of trust that keeps us from being partners. That’s fair.”

                Doc’s face scrunched up and he dumped the body on the ground. “Fucker shit himself. I hate that. So tell you what, let’s take a few days and better get to know each other, start finding common ground.” Doc flashed a smile that pissed Keith off. “First thing you need to know about me is that I don’t like it when people refuse a deal with me, so for that you need to get the shit beaten out of you. Draw your gun slowly, keep it pointed down and drop it. Anything else gets you shot.”

                Keith seethed. He’d walked into a trap and now he was at the mercy of a lunatic. He pulled his Glock from his waistband and dumped it on the ground.

                “Good man.” Doc told me, and with that the man Keith had seen in the shadows walked into the light. He was a little bit over 6 foot tall with tan skin, a shaved head and broad shoulders. He was a heavy direct from central casting. “A wise man once said the one thing that makes great fighters is poverty. That’s so true. I run a fight camp on the boarder of Texas and Mexico and all those poor people just scraping along to get by, they all fight for anything they can get. You pay them for their kids to fight and they’ll sell ‘em to you. Those kids fight every day of their lives. Those that make it to adulthood, we call them the Immortals. This young man’s name is Carlos, he’s twenty three and he’s going to teach you some respect.”

                Keith smiled, a fist fight was still something he was extremely deadly at. The idea of being challenged to a fight appealed to him since it was the one forum he was still confident of his skills in. Carlos circled him and Keith kept his hands low. He wanted Carlos to hit him in the head, to find out how dense Keith’s bones were. His skull had broken many a hand in brawls before.

                The jab Keith was hoping for came and glanced off the side of his head. Carlos’ reaction was exactly as Keith expected, nobody is ready for his brick of a skull. Keith fired off a one two of his own but Carlos was to slick and avoided the punches and then drilled Keith with a double right hook to the body. Keith didn’t feel pain from the blows but he knew they had landed. Keith bull rushed him but the charge was sidestepped easily by his opponent.

                Keith took a deep breath and kept his hands up. Carlos snapped a kick to his lead leg and another. Keith had never been attacked in such a way before, he’d seen fighters do it on TV but it had never happened to him in person. He charged at Carlos again and again Carlos sidestepped him, only this time Keith was left exposed and Carlos cracked him with a hard right to the jaw.

Keith saw stars and needed a moment to get his balance, he knew he was in trouble, but the scream Carlos gave indicated he wasn’t in good shape either. It had to have been the instinct of a lifetime of fights that made him throw that punch but now Keith was sure his jaw had broken the man’s hand. Keith turned and threw a punch right into the midsection of Carlos. The punch dug in hard to the body and Carlos’s grunted in agony. A left hook to the face shattered Carlos’ orbital bone and sent him sprawling to the ground. Keith dropped to a knee and thought for a moment about if he wanted to crush the man’s skull with one final punch, to show Doc he wasn’t the only one who could shatter a man’s head.

Right before he raised his hand to bring it down on Carlos’ skull he felt the pain, it shot through his whole body and was completely unbearable. He could hear himself screaming but couldn’t understand it was his voice making the noise. The pain lasted for an interminable amount of time before finally it relented and he collapsed face first on the ground. He could hear a device charging and knew it was the weapon that had disabled him.

             He’d never felt so powerless before, never had his body been damaged to the point where he couldn’t use it. A low hum kept getting louder as the Taser or whatever the hell it was loaded up for another blast.

            “I’m going to break you Ghost man.” Doc’s voice sounded distant, almost other worldly as he spoke. “You will do what I want or you will die.” He finished and with that a second blast hit Keith square in the back. It only took seconds for the sweet grip of oblivion to take his pain away. 

The War Backstories: The Next Chairman

Max Roper looked in the mirror as he put on his dark blue suit jacket. “Finally going to get the vote to fund the repairs on the green hills bridge today.” He told his wife.

                “And the funding for the war machine? I’m sure that bill passed a long time ago, must always pay to fund the slaughter of the savages am I right?” Margaret responded, the edge to her voice was clear.

                “Yes my dear. The army has been well funded, that so called war machine you sneer at is about all that stands between you and a re-education camp.” Max told her.

                “Bullshit.” Margaret snapped back. “You, the whole Senate and that worthless oaf of a king are the ones pushing this nation into a war. The Believers have their crazy ideas about the world, about a God, all that nonsense but they have never been a people that start wars.”

                “That’s because they’ve never had the power to start one. They’ve lived their lives as an oppressed minority. People insulted and mocked for their faith. When you don’t have access to guns, to training, when you can not build a military all you are is a bunch of rabble. They got their slice of land and they have their army. An Army of lunatics who think death will grant them the glory of God. They find honor in death. These people are unreasoning lunatics.” Max reassured her.

                “You tell people that. You want people to believe that. I’ve seen their art, their culture, the songs they sing, the plays they perform. The Believers are a spiritual and beautiful people. No band of psychopathic hooligans could do they things they do. You spread fear and distrust because it suits you. Because you’re now a month away from another painless re-election and then once the Senate starts it’s new session, you will be Chairman. The Chairman who’ll preside over the glorious war against the small minded fools who worship their invisible lord in the sky.” Margaret said.

                “If you’re so impressed with them why don’t you go fight and die along side them?” Max asked her. He fussed with his thinning hair, he was two years shy of sixty and had managed to keep most of it, always had been a point of pride that he hadn’t had to wear a wig as many of the Senate did, but now he wondered if his formerly black, now mostly grey head of hair was finally about to throw in the towel.

                “You know I’d never be a fool enough to think my life is being watched by some all-powerful being who is deeply concerned if I steal a few dollars here or there or say the wrong thing in the wrong being. It’s so silly to think anyone should live their live in any way other than service to their fellow people and themselves. Placating God? I can barely keep our daughter happy.” Margaret sighed. “The one good thing you did for me all these years. You near worthless gay bastard.” She finished with a sneer.

                “Oh I haven’t had a boy since we married my dear. Much as I wished for a strapping young man with rippling muscles and a soft month. No I stayed faithful to your rather rotund form for all these years and put a baby in you, as detestable as that work was.” Max retorted.

                “You managed to create one life, so now you’re going to see fit to ending thousands, tens of thousands or even more. Is that your legacy Max? The Butcher of Sutton’s Pyre?” Margaret asked him.

                “Woman, you act like I’m banging the drum for this war, that I’m the one seeking carnage and death on a wide scale. Poll the people, they want this war, if they didn’t I’d lose election.” Max told her.

                “You can’t lose election. This town has voted for a Roper for the last forty years. Your father was Senator here until he gave you the job. The crackpots and idiots who run against you dream of one day getting even twenty five percent of the vote. You could advocate for the death of the first born child of everyone in this city and you would still win re-election.”  Margaret scolded him.

                “Well if we can’t poll them, then poll the Senate. They all want the war and they’ll get it. If I stand up to them they’ll ignore me and elect a blood thirsty monster Chairman and we’ll have this fight anyhow. As Chairman maybe I can something to mitigate the war, to lessen the carnage.” Max said with a pleading tone.

                “You’re the one to hold the dogs of war on a leash? I can hardly believe that.” Margaret replied dryly.

                Max turned from the mirror and crossed his arms, his head tilted a bit as he stared his wife down for a moment before speaking. “The Believers want this fight, we want it to. We won’t admit to anyone but deep down we all want a test of strength to see who is the real boss of this island. It’s not honest or logical or even right but it’s the way things are. Right now we’re on the edge of war and everyone’s playing their part. My part is to be the Chairman of the Senate, the elder statement who in sadness more than anger agrees to fight the Utopians for the good of the Kingdom. It’s my job to lead this country into this war and then to get it out of the war. I understand your concerns but there is so little I can do about the coming fight.”

                Margaret was silent for a few moments. “Then what good is being Chairman? What good is any power if in truth you’re powerless? Why can’t you put your foot down and say no?” she asked.

                Max turned and sat next to her on the bed. His brown eyes met hers. “Well first of all I don’t know that I do really want to stop it. You heard the news reports, thousands of people were rioting in the streets of Paradise, blaming the Sutton bloodline for burning their holy city to the ground over three hundred years ago. Can you imagine getting worked up over something that happened three hundred years ago? These are people who can not forgive anything, how can we ever trust them to maintain peace with us? There is a part of me that thinks we do need to bloody their noses and teach them a lesson.”

                Max got up from the bed and walked back to the mirror, fixing his coat and buttoning it. “Also the big problem is our idiot king. That fool thinks a war would be jolly good sport, but I know the man old Alex will shrink from the violence, he’s not a man to be troubled by such awful things. Really this all comes down to that old moron hanging on for a few more years and us we winning a few early battles. If he’s still alive and we win a couple early battles we can broker a peace. We’ll have taught the Believers a lesson and can be gracious in victory.” He said

                He pulled his purple bowtie off the table near him and began to wrap it around his neck. “Let me tell you Margaret. If the king dies we will be fucked. Fucked in ways you can’t even imagine. His son is a monster, power hungry and quite open about it. I’m amazed he hasn’t killed the old man already. If he’s king when the bullets fly then we’re talking about a war that won’t end until one side is crushed under the boot of the other.”

                Margaret’s forehead scrunched. “You really think Walter is that awful a person?” she asked.

                Max frowned at her. “Very much so. I’m a man who has wanted to be Chairman of the Senate my whole life. Father was a Senator just because it was something for the old man to do, he rejected offers to run this committee or that. The Senate has many men like him, but it also has men like me and I can spot who they are from a mile away, and let me tell you Marge, Walter is the worst of the lot. He’s always hustling. While he has nearly no power as prince he knows the potential for his power when he becomes king can sway people. He hates the lazy way his father reigns. He wishes the Senate had less power than it does.” Max thought about it for a moment. “No. He wants the Senate abolished and to rule without anyone being able to stop him from doing whatever it is he desires.”

                He finished tying his tie and turned back to his wife. “We have an idiot king, his monster of a son. A nation of religious fanatics, and over a hundred years of mistrust that’s been fostered ever since both the Kingdom and the Believers landed on this island. There are so many moving parts it hurts my head to think about it. I half think a war now would be far better than a war ten years from now. I know peace would be preferred but I can’t imagine how it could be maintained.”

                Margaret looked at him for a few moments, her face softened. “Go vote for your bridge, go take care of your business.” She told him and then she laid back down on the bed.

                Max nodded and walked out of the room, he had a bridge to sell and a war to plan for. 

The War Backstory: The Warrior's Circle

Gideon had joined the army to further improve himself as a fighter. He had also joined the army to get rid of a Teacher who had been abusive to recruits who had joined the army. His father had a long career in the military and still kept in touch with those who were in the army and he had told Gideon about a man who had dragged recruits into the warrior’s circle and beat them without mercy. Broken arms, bad concussions, just about any level of brutality you could imagine the man would inflict upon a hapless recruit in an effort to instill fear into the rest of the class.

The army had turned a blind eye to the man’s abuses, they would claim to object to such violence and look into the claims about what happened but no investigations ever went anywhere. The army was happy with the number of men the Teacher had graduated each class and in the end that was all they ever cared about. Gideon had to stop the man from hurting another innocent recruit. His father had pulled strings and got Gideon into the Teacher’s class. The Teacher was a powerfully built man, standing a little over six foot with thick arms and a broad chest. Gideon knew he’d be well outweighed  in the fight and that the Teacher would have a solid reach advantage, but Gideon didn’t fear, his whole life was built upon fighting.

As long as he could remember he’d been training in unarmed combat. Martial arts, boxing, grappling. At age six he’d beaten nine and ten year olds to win a regional tournament. He hadn’t lost a since he was twelve and that fight was lost because he had badly turned an ankle while throwing his opponent and couldn’t stand on the leg. Not a day went by when he didn’t curse himself for quitting due to that injury instead of fighting on with one leg.

Gideon found himself admiring the Teacher’s methods. The warrior’s circle wasn’t brought up in the first month of the six weeks of training, recruits who had heard of the legends of being forced to fight in it had started to reassure themselves that it was merely a story told to scare them, but Gideon knew the truth, he’d seen the way the Teacher had watched the students during training. He was making a list of the men who were faltering so that he could personally cripple one of them rather than have to report a wash out. Gideon also knew that once he’d maimed one man the fear would motivate others to work harder to avoid the same fate. The Teacher was a monster but he had an intelligence about him that Gideon found dangerous.

That combined with the endless physical conditioning the recruits were being put through, Gideon knew he wouldn’t be at his best when he fought the Teacher but he just had to push through it. He’d seen a few recruits faltering under the relentless orders of the Teacher. This was how the army worked and how things should be, but Gideon also knew that one of those men would be in for a beating if he didn’t intervene when the time came.

Finally in the fifth week the men went on a run and around the  fourth mile they were ordered to turn off the road. Gideon saw the circle that had been dug into the dirt in front of them and knew the time had come. Now he’d be in a fight with nobody there to protect him, no ref to call it off or training partners to break it up, just a full out battle between him and a man out to injure somebody just because he could.

The Teacher walked in front of the men, a confident strut to his gait. “Before you is a warrior’s circle. It is a sacred place when men test themselves to hone their fighting skills, to prove themselves as warriors ready to fight and to die for our nation, and for our God. Today you unworthy vermin will be allowed inside this circle and will have to prove yourselves. Today we will begin the process of weeding out the weak and incapable to remove them from our army. For the time of war is nigh upon us. The Kingdom creeps ever closer to our boarders, their people seek only to tear down our churches, to make the teaching of the word of God a crime that will be punished by death. They seek to end our very way of life and to put us under their thumb as the Empire did before them.”

“You pathetic men. God help us. You pathetic men are all that stands against them. After over a month of training I have seen nothing to give me hope for Utopia and our civilization. God has given me a great test, to mold you into warriors worthy of fighting in His name. I do not shy away from God’s task and neither will any of you. I shall be the first to enter the warrior’s circle. I shall choose one of you to fight me to begin today’s combat.”

                “Teacher, I shall fight you.” Gideon shouted. The Teacher’s head snapped around on his shoulders and he glared at Gideon.

                “What did you say you little worm?” The Teacher hissed at him.

                “Teacher, I said I shall fight you. I wish to be the one to enter the circle with you.” Gideon said.

                The Teacher walked over to him and put his nose mere inches from Gideon’s face. “Wait a moment. I know who you are.” The Teacher said in a low tone, his voice like gravel. “You’re the son of that weepy old man. He’s put you up to this didn’t he? He’s heard about me removing the failures from the ranks of my recruits and he doesn’t care for it and he’s sent his little golden boy to teach me a lesson.” The Teacher smiled wickedly at Gideon.

                “You think my methods harsh? I do what is needed. We’re going to war, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in a month, but soon we’ll be fighting and killing and we must have everyone giving it their all or we will lose. Those men couldn’t cut it. They couldn’t handle it. I had to remove them. I did it for the good of this nation. I did it in the name of God almighty. You have the nerve to try to stand up to me, to try to prevent me from doing my job? Do you really want to do this? You do know that a challenge such as yours can be seen as such disrespect as to require our fight end only when one of dies, you do understand that right?” The Teacher told him with a gleam in his eye.

                Gideon had never heard of such rules before, he figured the Teacher was bluffing and trying to scare him, and it didn’t matter if he was telling the truth. Gideon had no fear of death and no guilt in killing such a depraved man. “Teacher, I have challenged you, do you accept?” Gideon answered. He felt the silence in the group turn to tension. He could feel the nervous energy of the recruits around him as the Teacher continued to stare at him. The Teacher stared him down for seconds that felt like eternity before turning his back on Gideon and walking into the circle.

                “Men, I have been challenged and I am honor bound to accept. The recruit who had made this challenge understands that whatever violence befalls him is because of his challenge. There shall be no mercy in this contest, it shall end only when one man has proven his domination over the other, if that requires death then so be it.”

                Gideon walked into the warrior’s circle with the Teacher and the two men removed their uniform tops and boots, once they were shirtless and barefoot the two men put up their arms and began to circle. Gideon noticed that the Teacher put a lot of weight on his lead leg, and that made it a very inviting target to strike. One kick to the leg followed by another staggered the Teacher who responded by flailing with a series of punches Gideon was able to avoid with little trouble, landing a quick jab and a right hook to the body as he backed away to a safe distance.

                “Sissy, not willing to give me a real fight.” The Teacher sneered at him, trying to provoke Gideon into engaged. Gideon ignored the Teacher’s insult and went right back to driving his foot and shin into the thigh of the Teacher’s lead leg. Again and again the blow hit home without the Teacher finding any countermeasure to the attack.

                Gideon’s respect for the Teacher lessened as each strike hit. This was a man who had prayed upon the weak, but now with a real worthy opponent before him he had no answers, no skills with which to compete, Gideon knew it was only a matter of time before the Teacher’s leg buckled and the fight would end.

                The Teacher was game and kept advancing towards Gideon and Gideon kept striking his leg. A blow finally staggered the Teacher and he pitched forward. Gideon turned his hips and put all his power into a vicious right hook that caught the Teacher flush on the jaw. Gideon felt a sharp pain rip through his hand as he landed the punch and knew instantly he’d broken his hand. The Teacher staggered away from Gideon with his eyes glassy but his legs were still beneath him, Gideon couldn’t believe the punch hadn’t ended the fight. He sent another kick at the Teacher’s leg but it was wide and arcing, not the tight compact motion of his other strikes. The pain in his hand and his shock at having not knocked out the Teacher had put him off his game and when his leg landed the Teacher was able to catch it and press forward.

                Gideon tried to balance on one leg but the Teacher’s size and strength was too much for him and he was toppled onto his back with the Teacher on top of him. Gideon desperately threw his legs around the Teacher’s hips and struggled to hold the Teacher tight to his body. The Teacher powered up and started digging punches into Gideon’s ribs and side, Gideon blocked the punches that rained down on his head but he felt the strength of the Teacher as each blow struck him.

                “Why have you wrapped your legs around me? Are you a woman seeking my seed?!” The Teacher shouted at him as he kept swinging. Gideon could feel the blows losing their steam as the Teacher kept attacking and he knew he had his chance to counter attack. He grabbed the Teacher’s right arm and held it to his side and threw his legs up over the Teacher’s head and worked to secure a triangle around the Teacher’s neck. He sunk the hold in and he could see the face of the Teacher turning red as the flow of blood to his brain was being compromised.

                Gideon could feel the Teacher trying to power out of the hold. The Teacher was getting his legs underneath him and was seeking to lift Gideon off the ground and slam him into the dirt. Gideon reached out with his broken hand and grabbed the ankle of the Teacher. Pain shot through Gideon’s arm as he pulled hard on the Teacher’s ankle and managed to pull him off his feet. A few more moments passed and the Teacher went limp from the triangle. Gideon held it on for a few more seconds and then released the Teacher and let his body fall on the dirt. He pulled himself to his feet and looked at the recruits.

                “Let us go back to camp men.” Gideon told them.

                “Teacher, as you command!” the men shouted at him. Gideon’s defeat of the Teacher had made him the Teacher in the eyes of the recruits, a legend of the warrior’s circle that nobody had ever heard of really happening but now it had. Gideon himself didn’t know if it was true, but he did know he didn’t want to be the Teacher he knew he wanted to get back to camp and allow others to figure such things out. All he cared about was that he’d defeated a cruel and evil man and removed him from the army. He hoped his father and his God would be proud.