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.  

The War Backstory: The Huntress Prepares

Olivia loved being outdoors and going out for a hunt. The spring was almost over she could feel the warmth and knew that the oppressive summer was only a few weeks away. Now was one of her final chances to get herself a test out one of her husband’s latest creations and see if it lived up to the hype. Her husband had promised her that the gun was his finest weapon to date and she’d done some target shooting and been happy so far, but hunting live game was the true test.  

                The wind picked up and she pushed away her red hair from her eyes. She thought about hard dark it had become in her old age. When she was young she’d had strawberry red hair and her father always called her “My firecracker.” She loved that saying, now her hair was only a few shades away from brown. Her fingers picked at the lines in her cheeks and blemishes on her forehead and she sighed as she thought about the afflictions of old age and that beauty never lasts.

                She smiled as she thought about her eyes, they hadn’t failed her yet. Her jade green eyes still could see just as good as they ever had, and the scope on her rifle only helped matters out. She reassured herself that if she wasn’t the prettiest girl at the ball she was at least the most deadly of them. The moose that had stumbled into her line of sight was to find that out the hard way.

                While her husband did what he could to keep her away from the new gun she had made her conditions known. The scope was a simple cross hair, not a series of circles or lines or other such nonsense all she ever wanted was to put the target in the center of those two lines and pull the trigger. She felt the calluses on her fingers as they ran over the bolt. The bolt had been smoother than usual for Randy’s creations as he’d always ignored her about the need for an easy re-load she hated having to fight with the belt to get the next bullet into the chamber. This gun was the first he’d ever made that she didn’t have that complaint.

                As she lined up the shot the moose turned and was now looking right at her. She took one final deep breath and steadied herself as she aimed right at the beast’s head. Her finger slowly pulling on the trigger until finally the shot happened. The moose crumpled to the ground and lay motionless. Olivia gave a grim smile as she walked over to the creature’s body.

                She pulled out her gutting knife and made a quick draw across the moose’s throat. Blood poured from the moose’s throat and she was thankful the beast’s heart was still beating even with the brain having been destroyed. Her next cut removed the genitals of the moose to prevent their chemicals from ruining the meat. After these surgical cuts she got to slicing open the belly of the moose. Slowly she pushed the knife through the flesh of the beast until finally she’s cut from end to end. Once that was done she held her breath as usually the insides of such animals were not the nicest smelling of things. She reached into the animal’s body and dug out its entrails. She walked twenty paces before throwing the guts of the animal on the ground. As she walked back to the carcass she cleaned her knife on her dark green dress. The dress had many dark stains from blood all over it and she laughed as she thought about how she was wearing the color of the Believers and how their religion was so bloody and horrible that her dress seemed perfectly suited for them.

                As she started stripping the moose for food she couldn’t help but think about what she was really doing. This was all practice for the war. One day she’d have to take her husband’s gun and go off and murder people with it to prove that they were right. The task would not fall to her two daughters, both mothers themselves and neither had fired a gun since childhood. Her husband was nearly sixty, with bad knees and a bad back he couldn’t walk a mile without being in agony, much less follow an army and spend his days laying on his stomach for hours waiting for a target.

                She wondered if she could really do it, if she could really shoot somebody and kill them. Slicing off a section of meat from the moose’s side it depressed her to think about what a human was. That we are all just a pile of meat and guts just like the countless animals she’d shot. Yet killing a human would be so different. She wondered if it really should be so different.

                Olivia kneeled down and stared into the glassy lifeless eyes of the moose. “So buddy, you think I can do it? Can I put a bullet in these Believers? I don’t see why not. I killed you and you were not threatening me. I mean I did it just because I’m a cheap old lady looking to save a few bucks on meat, don’t have to go to the market for a week now.” 

                She quit talking and went about the work of removing as much meat as she could from that side of the moose. When she flipped the animal over she decided to chat some more with it. “You know they demand you convert when you stumble into their lands. Sailors get swept onto their shores and are forced to swear loyalty to their God or they are killed. They have to pass tests they have to give up their wives since marriage doesn’t exist in their lands. It’s horrid they are a bunch of monsters. Yet I wonder if I can do it. If I can pull the trigger and kill a person.”  

               

                “It’s all for pride. Me and my husband’s stupid pride. I could lie to you and tell you I’m doing it to fight the good fight that I’m a proud follower of the Suttons and all that bullshit but it’s not true. Randy knew the war would be coming so he set about to make the best gun he could. He wanted to win the war with his mind and be remembered as the genius who built the gun that defeated the Believers. Problem is he won’t stop making them with all the finest parts and the care some of them need is truly pathetic. Just a little sand in ‘em and they have to be taken apart to the bare bones and cleaned out. The Senate won’t buy the things, cost too much. He tries to kiss the king’s ass but that goes nowhere so we’re stuck selling these guns to a buncha rich fucks who like to show ‘em off. They are fucking status symbols, like a nice watch or a pure breed horse.”

She swung the rifle around and showed the butt of the gun to the dead moose. “See the word Brewer there? That’s all that matters to these high society assholes. Gotta own a Brewer rifle, finest rifle in all the Kingdom. Oh we’ve made more money than we know what to do with, but it means nothing to my husband and I. I’ve never cared for anything fancy and he just wants weapons that kill people. We’re a couple of insufferable cunts that way. At least my daughters spend my money and have good lives.”  Olivia sighed and cut more meat out of the moose.

“It’s coming soon. I know it, Midpoint’s happened, they say a good man named Pete from the Kingdom met a smart man named Jacob from Utopia and the two of them are running a tight ship over there. It won’t last. I told you about the money those Brewer rifles make us. Oh mister moose, you have no idea what real money is. It eats Randy up at night looking at the budgets for the army. The contracts handed out for cheap rifles that can be mass produced and replaced. He screams at me about the millions of crownsmarks that go to these hacks, these talentless morons who make shitty, third rate guns that the Senate can’t get enough of.”

                As she stuffed the moose meat into the satchel she’d brought with her she finished her conversation. “And that’s just the guns. Never mind the uniforms, the grenades, the cannons, the horses, payment for the army itself. The Believers are doing it all the same as we are, so much money being spent preparing for a war, so many decades of expecting a war. No matter how noble or just two men are they can’t stop what’s coming. They might as well stand under a waterfall and try to spit it all back up. It’s going to happen. The only question for me is, when that first Believer ends up in my crosshairs, am I going to be able to pull the trigger?  This war is going to make a killer out of thousands and thousands of men. Will it make a killer out of me? Part of me wishes it wouldn’t, but another part of me knows it will.” Olivia said as she left the body of the moose and walked back into the woods. 

The War Backstory: Jacob Seeks His Path

                Jacob loved the buzz of the crowd, the energy in the club even as he could feel them getting restless. He turned towards Maria and smiled. “Give them five more minutes.” He said.

                “Honey no!” she chided him. “Let me get out there now. I can feel them getting antsy.” She continued. Jacob hugged her and she hugged him back but pulled away quickly. “You’ll mess up my hair.” She told him as her hands picked at her shoulder length auburn hair. “Introduce me now or I’m going out there without an intro.” She said with her dark brown eyes holding a stare upon him that made him confident she was fully intending on carrying out her threat.

                His hand ran down her arm. “Anything for you my tan lady.” He said as he started to walk towards the stage.

                “You pale boy. You need more sun.” she teased him as he finally made onto the stage and the crowd started cheering, the band played an upbeat riff of trumpets and saxophones with drums backing him as he made his way to the center of the stage.

                “Good evening everyone!” Jacob said to the crowd drawing applause. “This morning we all went to church to praise God and tonight we celebrate the wonderful things he has given us. Like the chicken, fish, and beef we dine on this evening. The endless forms of alcohol with which to wash them all down with, and of course for all the men in attendance the most important blessing we could have.” He paused to make sure he had everyone hanging on his words. “The company of beautiful women!” he finished and brought a cheer from the crowd. “Speaking of beautiful women, it is my honor to present to you the beautiful, lovely, and talented Maria Benevides!” He finished with a flourish, extending his arms to the side of the stage Maria walked in from.

                He walked towards her and gave her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. His hand lingered for a moment on her hip enjoying the feel of the silk mint green dress that hugged the curves of her body. Then he was off the stage and she was front and center. She began with “God and I” a song that served as cross between a benediction and a national anthem.  Jacob listened as the crowd sang along with her as she went through the lines and the loud cheering when the song finished. Maria stood straight and did not bow or thank the crowd since taking any credit for that song was seen as poor form.

                Once the crowd died down she got into the songs she had written herself. “Third Time’s The Charm” was a song about a pair of lovers who had met in two previous lifetimes but things always had conspired to prevent them from being together but now in this third lifetime together they were finally able to be together and have a family at last. In the middle of the song Maria did her ass shake dance at him that was her sign to him to leave the backstage area and get back to work. Some nights she took longer than others and other nights she just did it while she was dancing and forgot she had done do and was mad when he had left. Jacob was pretty sure she had control of the crowd and was sending him away so he headed back to the bar to help the bartenders keep the customers inebriated.

                After serving a few patrons Jacob noticed Jonathan standing at the end of the bar. “My friend, what can I do for you?” he asked as he shook Jonathan’s hand.

                “The question is what can I do for you?” Jonathan replied. “This place looks packed yet you’re wearing those poor clothes, has the Lord turned his favor away from you?” he said in a playful tone, mocking Jacob’s drab green shirt and black pants that had stains on them.

                “Oh I don’t wear my nice clothes on work days, and every day is a work day.” Jacob replied with a laugh. “Unlike you my friend, you must have made a tailor very happy with that absurd outfit you have on.”  Jacob teased him reply. Jonathan was in a black suit with a white shirt and emerald green tie that all looked like they had never been worn before.

                “The Malaguti family believes that making a good presentation is an important part of doing business. We are also prepared to increase our offer for this establishment by twenty percent and to offer you a yearly stipend based on the business here. As you are well aware we run many of the gaming halls and entertainment centers in Paradise and are looking to expand now to the west. We hold nothing in Serenity and rather than starting something from scratch and competing with you, we would rather just find common ground and keep this successful establishment going strong.”

                Jacob started nervously washing a glass, the offer he was being made was very attractive and he knew he wanted to take it but he had to talk to Maria first. “What about the war? Serenity is the biggest city near the Kingdom. I know we’re still a good distance away from them but if the guns come out this place could be in danger.” Jacob told him.

                “If the war ever gets here it’ll be years from now, plenty of time between now and then to make money. To be honest the threat of war is good for people, people on edge need to blow off some steam, get a few drinks, chase pretty girls. Then the war happens and I’ll let you in on a secret. The Kingdom is a bunch of babies. We smack them around a couple times and they’ll beg for surrender. I ain’t worried about it.” Jonathan said.

                Jacob looked at his reflection in the glass. He never thought he’d still have all his brown hair this close to age forty his face still looked young with a slender nose and thin lips. His brown eyes kept looking at the glass as if it was to grant him insight into the decision he was about to make. “I’m pretty sure you have a deal.” He told Jonathan after a lengthy pause. “Let me just sleep on it tonight but I really do think I’ll sell to you.” He said with a nod, as if he was trying to convince himself what he was doing was the right thing.

                “That sounds good to me. I shall be here tomorrow in the early afternoon. I will have a check ready for you by then.” Jonathan said and with a bow he walked away from the bar.

                Jacob sighed as he thought about the conversation he’d have to have with Maria. She loved the club and loved singing there and while she knew about the Malagutis and their desire to buy the place she had argued repeatedly with Jacob not to sell.

                3am arrived and last call had come and gone and the last few customers found their way out the door. Jacob locked up the club and went to the till to start counting up the day’s money and then go over the food and drink stock to see if everything looked about right. He knew some of the new bar staff were a bit too liberal with the amount of alcohol in the drinks and if tonight continued that trend there would have to be some conversations had in the morning.

                Maria walked to the bar and Jacob could tell by the look in her eyes that she had seen his conversation with Jonathan earlier in the night. “So what they offering you now?” she asked him. When he didn’t answer after a few seconds continued. “That much really?”

                “Yup.” Jacob told her with a sigh. “It’s a good sized upgrade from the last offer and they are even willing to keep paying me as long as this place keeps turning a profit. I would really be a fool to say no at this point.” He told her trying to make the resignation in his voice sound genuine.

                “You want to sell. You’ve wanted to sell since their first offer. Don’t bullshit me Jacob.” Maria said.

                “But you don’t want me to sell and you are what matters to me. I just.” He started and stopped. “It’s the path not traveled.” He continued.

                Maria seethed as she looked at him. “You came to this town which was nothing, just nothing. Serenity didn’t exist fifteen years ago and now you’re likely the richest man in the whole city, being offered even more wealth and you still don’t think you’ve completed your journey? What do you see in that parable that tells you there’s something else out there for you?” She said with a pleading tone.

                “I don’t know.” He said, he had picked up a glass and was washing it as his nervous tic demanded of him. “I just don’t feel like this is what I’m supposed to be doing. You are supposed to be on that stage. You’re supposed to sing and entertain. It’s why God put you on this earth. Me? I have no idea why I’m here. I just try to do as best I can wherever I am but it doesn’t make me feel like I’m doing what I should be. I feel lost.” He put the glass down and clasped her hands in his. “You’re right about everything. I’ve build myself up to have all this wealth. I have friends and just about every customer in this place loves me, but at the end of the night all I see is a bunch of paper with silly drawings on it. All I think about is another long day of work and dealing with it all. You’re the only reason why I don’t just run away and live in the woods.” He said.

                Maria winced as she heard Jacob speak. “Is this because we haven’t had children yet? You know that it hurts me so much that I haven’t given you a child.” She said with tears welling up in her eyes.

                “No Maria. No it’s not about the lack of children. I hope God doesn’t hear this but honestly even as old as I am I don’t think I’m ready to be a parent. I don’t think a child would fulfill me. I’m just a man looking for my reason to exist.” He said.

                “You don’t have to hide it from me. You can have babies with other girls, it’s OK. Let’s be honest you really should be doing that. You’re wealthy and it’s unbecoming of a man of your stature to be childless. Those who can support children should be having children and lots of them.” Maria said.

                “Are you trying to get rid of me?” Jacob said. He felt a crushing weight in his chest as he asked the question.

                “I just don’t know what to say Jacob. I don’t feel like I make you happy. We have everything except children and if it’s not the lack of children then what is it that hurts you so much? I just don’t get it. What is it that you want?”

                Jacob bowed his head and leaned into Maria. She hugged him as they stood on opposite sides of the bar. “Maybe I’m only on this earth to be your beloved. Maybe I should just take all this money and get us a nice boat and we can sail in the ocean and ignore the world and live out our days in luxury.”

                “I’d throw up. I can’t handle boats you dummy.” Maria said with a laugh. “We could go to Paradise, open a small club, I could sing there and you wouldn’t have to work too much.” She suggested.

                Jacob had a spark in his eye as he looked at Maria. “What if we just kept pushing west? I can take this money and we can practically start our own settlement. We can keep moving west until the Kingdom meets up with us, and when they get to us we’ll offer them a beer and sing them some songs and show them that we Believers aren’t such a bad lot after all.” Jacob said.

                “They don’t want peace. They are planning for war. Did you not read in the papers about the new cannons they are designing? The troop build-up that they have announced? Honey I’ve always supported you but this is insanity. They’ll take our beer and listen to our songs and then put bullets in our heads.” Maria said him with fear in her voice.

                “That’s our papers, run by our church telling us these things. I think they are people just like us. They work, they love, they live they do all the things we do only a little bit differently. There is no reason for them to kill us.“ Jacob said.

                “They hate religion.” Maria said flatly.

                “They aren’t the Empire. They allow churches in cities. There is a minority of people in the Kingdom who do believe, even if most of them are Divine and not Devout. It’s not mocked or insulted the way it is in the Empire.” Jacob responded.

                “That’s all bullshit once their army is big enough they’ll burn all the churches to the ground.” Maria said.

                “Oh they’ve been saying that every year now that next year will be the year of the great church burning. Can you not see that both sides are doing this? That we’re being taught to fear and hate them as much as they are taught to fear and hate us? The last thing on this earth I want to do is to kill another person. I have no idea what kind of monster would look forward to such a thing. I don’t think the Suttons have a bunch of subjects that are monsters. I think they are reasonable people that we can talk to and reach an understanding with.” He paused and smiled. “And why we’re at it we can take a bunch of their money selling them watered down drinks.”

                “So that’s God’s big plan for you? You are the man who’ll get the Kingdom drunk and keep them from killing us and burning our churches.” Maria said with a smile.

                “I don’t know if it is, but I can tell you just thinking about it makes me more excited than anything else I’ve ever thought about doing.” Jacob said.

                “Well you’re going to have to find me a book of songs the Kingdom likes and some fashions they prefer. If I wore green on stage I don’t think it would work to well and I’d hate to spoil your peace initiative.” Maria told him as she gave him a kiss. The kiss led to a second and then a long deep third kiss.

               

                “You looking to try to get pregnant?” Jacob asked her.

                “Always my love.” She replied. 

The War Backstory: The Demon of Sutton's Pyre

The belt came down upon his back. “Why are you cheating me out of my money you little shit!” Blake’s father yelled as he brought the belt down across his son’s back, slashing his flesh with each strike. Blake cried, he shrieked, he tried to find a way to speak but it never happened. The belt struck him again and again because he’s only brought home forty crownsmarks for his week of work at the local library instead of fifty. The library had been closed for a holiday so Blake’s pay was less but his father didn’t care to hear about such things. He knew his son was short money and he had to pay for that with his hide.

                Blake’s mother started pleading with his father to quit hitting him, to quit beating her son and to just leave him alone. His father turned towards her and started stalking her with the belt. Blake heard the strap smacking against he’s mother’s flesh, now she was the one screaming and crying under the assault of her husband. As Blake slowly got to his knees he stared at his father and watched as he beat his mother. It was in that moment that Blake decided to kill his father.

                The things Blake loved to read about in the library were the great war heroes of old. The men who had beaten back the armies of the Empire and allowed the Suttons to take a position of power when they finally agreed to allow their Kingdom to be annexed into the Empire. Dewey Steen, Arthur Walton, Bill Evans and others who committed acts of great bravery on the battlefield and turned the tide of war in the favor of their nation. Blake longed to be remembered like them, to have statues made in his image and for stories to be told of his greatness.

                He knew to be great like them he had to kill like them. Without hesitating and without mercy, that in battle one must end lives in order to secure victory. Blake knew killing his father would be an important step on his road to being a hero, but it wouldn’t be the first step. Other men had to be killed first to throw the police off. If he just murdered his father it would be to obvious who had committed the crime so some level of deception was needed.

                When work was slow at the library he spent his time drawing a crude design of a man’s face, only with evil looking eyes and pointed eyebrows. The mouth was a triangle, flat at top with pointy teeth inside the mouth. At the bottom of this drawing he scratched the word “Demon” Blake smiled as he looked at the drawing, it was to be his calling card, he would be the Demon.

                Three nights later he snuck out of his house and walked a couple miles to a local park. Both moons were covered in clouds so the area was nearly pitch black. Blake hid in the bushes with a brick in his right hand and a small knife in his other hand.  After a half hour of waiting Blake finally saw a man stumbling through the park, he was clearly drunk or otherwise impaired and Blake knew he’d found a perfect target. He closed his eyes and worked hard to control his breathing before creeping out of the bushes towards the man. The drunk continued his awkward shamble away from Blake without appearing to notice that Blake was closing in on him.

                The brick smashed into the back of the man’s head and sent him sprawling to the ground. Blake stood over him as the man made low groaning noises and moved his arms and legs in uncoordinated spasms. The knife was sharp and Blake was amazed how easy it dug into the man’s neck. A quick draw of the blade made blood pool all around the man’s head as his body went limp. Blake started to run and then stopped and remembered to throw his paper with the demon drawing near the body before he fled the park.

                The terror of that night made sleep impossible. He was positive somebody had seen him and that at any moment the police would show up and arrest him, the sun’s arrival brought with it a fitful sleep that was short lived. A couple hours later his father barged into his room screaming. “Why are you still asleep you lazy shit?” he barked at his son. Blake tried to protest but was met with a punch to his gut.

                Blake gasped and tried to get his breath when he was struck again, this time in the face by a backhand. He crashed out of his bed, hitting the floor hard he scrambled to his feet and fled the house. “Get the fuck out of the house! Do something you lazy scum!” his father screamed at him as he ran.

                As he ran outside Blake started to hyperventilate and cry. He hated his father he wished he’d killed him instead of killing that stranger. Blake touched his forehead and noticed he was bleeding from his eyebrow. He then looked down and saw blood on the left sleeve of his shirt. His heart jumped in his chest as he saw the blood of the man he had killed on his clothes. He had to cover up the blood and so he picked at the cut in his forehead and ripped it open even worse than it was before and let it cover his shirt. Once his shirt was good and bloody he made his way to the local hospital where a nurse stitched him up.

                The nurse knew his father beat him, she’d seen Blake shirtless before plenty of times and knew of the scars all over his body, but they both played along with the lie that Blake had just suffered a fall of his own accord and that’s all it was. Normally Blake would seethe with rage at the nurse’s apathy , how she could allow his father to do what he did, but today it served him well that she not ask questions about why a young boy was covered in blood the morning after a man had been murdered.

                Blake suffered his beatings at home and waited for a good night to make his second kill. The park was to open and he figured he’d been very lucky to have not been seen when he’d killed his first victim. He spent his days scouting out more concealed locations and found a nice alleyway near a street with small amount of foot traffic. That night he placed a small trail of half crownmark coins along the ground leading into the alley as a trap to lure a victim in. It didn’t take long for a man to find the first one and then move on to the second and third.

                The rock hit the back of the man’s head with a sickening thud. Blake brought it down a second time and then a third. When he paused for a moment to use his knife to finish the man off he noticed the massive pool of blood around the man’s head and that his body was completely motionless. Blake was amazed at how quickly he’d killed the man and how easy it had been to kill him. He took the demon drawing and put it inside the man’s shirt so the police would be sure to find it. He snuck out of the alley and made his way home and slept a peaceful night’s sleep.

                It excited him to read in the papers about the two murders he’d committed and how police were looking for leads in the case. He wondered about the nurse who had stitched his cut but he dismissed her as a thread. She never was concerned about him before so there was no reason to think she’d be concerned with him now. Blake never felt as happy as he did mapping out the murder of his father.

                Finally the night had come. The end of the workweek meant his father would hit a local bar known as Frankie’s and get drunk before coming home. Both Blake and his mother had learned to be asleep before he got home on these nights or else a vicious beating was in store for them. Blake waited across the street with his knife and a new large rock in hand. He’d spent the past few days scouring the streets for the perfect rock to cave his father’s head in and now he was going to put that rock to good use.

                Blake fumed as the bar closed and his father filed out with the rest of the drunks who wouldn’t leave till the owner of the place kicked them out. Blake pocketed the knife and hid the rock in the crook of his arm as he carefully followed his father from a distance. As he got close he couldn’t help himself, he broke into a run as he clutched the rock and then finally he swung at his father.

                The blow was a glancing one both of them fell to the ground. Blake had put himself badly off balance with the swing and his father landed on his hands and knees and rolled to his side. Blake rushed back to his feet to land another shot when he heard a voice call out “What are you doing?” a man shouted from across the street and started rushing towards Blake. Blake didn’t know how to react so he just charged the man. His charge caught the man off guard and Blake’s knife was driven into the man’s chest. Blake pulled the blade out and then ran it through the man’s throat. He watched as the color drained from the man’s face and then he crumpled to the ground. Blake turned and saw his father getting to his feet.

                Their eyes locked. Blake saw the rage in his father’s eyes, but he also saw fear. Blake reminded himself that his father was drunk and that it would be easy to kill him yet the years of beatings and abuse had conditioned him to submit to give into his father’s will. Blake let out a primal scream and charged at his father. His father charged at him and when the two met this time the rock hit home. Blake drove the rock right into his father’s face, shattering his nose and sending blood flying everywhere. Blake knelt over him and drove the rock down upon him again and again, the final time giving a sickening squishing noise as his father’s head had been completely shattered. Blake stood up and threw the paper with the drawing on his father and then he heard voices.

                The voices were coming for him and he ran. He ran down alleyways and the voices kept coming, he climbed fences and ducked into people’s yards and the voices vanished for a while but they kept coming back. He wondered if he should flee to his house or not, but then he figured he had nowhere else to go. The last three blocks had been quiet with no sign of anyone noticing him but he knew the killing of his father had gone wrong and he was sure he’d be caught.

                He opened the window to his room from the outside and snuck in, as soon as he got inside he room he felt how tight to his chest his shirt felt. He knew his clothes were caked in blood. He stripped naked and stuck all his clothes under his bed. He threw on a new pair of underwear and jumped into bed and laid there staring at the ceiling. Then came the knock on the door.

                He heard his mother answer the door and the police talking to her. He heard her scream in horror as they told her that her husband was dead. He listened to her wails of anguish and seethed with rage. How could she feel bad for the monster that beat us? How could she feel sadness from finally having him rid from her life? He waited for the cops to enter his room, to arrest him for killing his father. He heard the policeman talking to his mother in a quieter tone, he couldn’t make out the words but he knew it wasn’t a good thing. The policeman’s strides towards his door felt like thunderclaps in his ears and he heard the man’s hand on his doorknob. “Wait.” He heard his mom cry out. “Let him have one final night of rest before I have to tell him his father’s gone.” She said before going back to her sobbing. The man’s hand left the doorknob and the police filed out of the house.

                The next morning Blake woke up and looked in the mirror. His blonde hair had whitened a great deal over night and he swore that his eyes were now a much paler shade of blue than they had been before. He knew he was tall for a boy of fifteen but he hoped he’d grow even bigger, he wanted to be a strong imposing presence on the battle field and he wanted a body that would make killing even easier.

                He opened the door to his bedroom and saw his mom in the kitchen crying. “I heard them momma. I heard them say daddy is dead.” He told her as he started sobbing and ran to her. They hugged and cried and he fought to bring up tears as best he could to show her he was really sad about his father’s passing. The next two days were mostly him hiding his room, sitting on his bed on top of the bloody pile of clothes that would convict him. His mother barged in at all hours of the day to talk to him, to cry with him and for the two of them to comfort each other. He just wished she’d give him the time he needed to dump his clothes.

                Finally on the third day she was called away for funeral planning and he was able to bag the clothes and throw them into the ocean in an isolated cove that teenagers used to get drunk and have sex at. As he watched the tide drag the satchel away he felt a great weight off his shoulders, but then it was replaced by another weight. He would have to keep killing to cover up the fact that his father was the last murder. If he stopped now the police would think there was something special about his dad and might figure things out. He really didn’t want to have to risk killing another person but now he felt like he had no choice.

                Then the newspaper arrived three days later, the demon had struck again. Blake couldn’t believe it somebody else had copied his style of murder and had killed another person only a few miles away. The murders continued for months until finally the demon was shot to death by police after his eleventh murder. Finally Sutton’s Pyre could rest easy with the killer put to rest.

                A year after he had killed his father Blake went to his gravesite to place flowers. “Hey dad, you fucking prick. Been a year since I murdered you.” Blake said with a sneer. “Like my clothes?” he asked as he looked down at his nicely tailored black suit jacket “My new dad bought them for me. He’s a rich piece of shit that one. He and I don’t talk much, thinks he can just buy me off with gifts and money. I hate him. Not as much as I hated you, but he’s still a piece of shit. Just a piggy bank on legs as far as I can tell.”

                Blake knelt before his father’s grave. “Sad thing is I hate mom most of all. Dumb bitch never did a fucking thing to protect herself. After I killed you oh how she wept. I thought they were gonna commit the dumb bitch she kept carrying on weeping and blubbering. For what? Why she fucking crying? Cause you couldn’t scar her back with your fucking belt again? Cause you wouldn’t be there to beat the shit out of her? Then she meets this rich asshole and now she’s happy as can be. Why she happy dad? Tell me why she’s happy. She’s happy cause I fucking killed you. I did all the hard work, I fucking murdered you to get myself free of you and now she’s got a new husband who’ll never hurt her and gives her everything she wants.” Blake started crying.

                “It’s not fucking fair. I did it. I did everything and what do I get? Some crownmarks every now and then? Some trinket or toy and a pat on the head? He done knocked her up to. I’m gonna have a little brother or sister soon enough, ain’t that fucking great, even more of an excuse to ignore me. Why are they so fucking happy and I don’t get shit? Fuck this world man. Fuck you dad. Fuck you.”

                Blake fought to control his breathing as he stared down at the grave. “I’ll still show them all. We all know the war’s coming, those God fearing fools are coming closer to our boarder and we’re moving towards them. It’s not going to be long now, maybe a few years, maybe quicker than that, but its coming. I can’t wait for it. I’m good at killing, I proved that with you didn’t I? Fucked you up right good.  When that war comes I’m going to kill ever y last one of them God loving fucks I can get my hands on. Well not really.”

                He pulled back the suit jacket to shot a pearl handled revolver in a holster on his hip. “Dad didn’t get me this. I saved up my money and I bought it at the pawn shop. I’ve been practicing out at the cove where I dumped the evidence I killed you. I’m a real good shot. I’m going make every bullet count. One day the king himself is going to put a medal around my neck and declare me a Hero of the Kingdom, and they’ll all cheer for me. They will cheer for Blake Evans.”

                Blake stopped talking for a moment. “That’s right. I took my new dad’s last name. Think I’d fucking keep any trace of you in my life? No fucking way. I will tell you what I am gonna do dad. After I get that medal I’ll tell everyone I did it to honor you. I’ll come to this grave and I’ll kneel here, like this.” He said as he knelt beside the head stone. “Then I’m going to put my head right up against the stone and start sobbing.” He put his head on hard granite stone. “They’ll think I’m weeping over my poor dead dad, killed by the Demon of Sutton’s Pyre, but they’ll really be tears of joy cause I’m so glad I killed you. I’ll see you soon.” Blake said as he got back to his feet. The Demon of Sutton’s Pyre left the graveyard with dreams of carnage and glory in his head.