“St Michael’s church of the Wigan faith closed this afternoon when CPD were forced to attend what has been described as a mass suicide where fifty congregates were found dead on the church floor. It is believed that the cause of death was the consumption of cyanide pills. Franklin Rhodes of CPD has offered as much support as his department provide. I’m Sandra Wake of Coldford Daily news.”
“Is he sedated?”
“No,” Doctor Harold Fishman replied. “We wanted him to be consciously aware. As consciously aware as someone in his state of mind can be.”
The woman standing beside him slowly nodded. Harold looked up at her for she was a great deal taller than he. She was broad shouldered, suited and holding a steely expression on her face. When she turned and noticed him staring at her she smiled.
“Did he give you any trouble?”
“He did at first. He seems to be upset that they would separate him from the others.”
Through a window the two were watching George Beckingridge. The billionaire boy wasn’t seated at a table. He was trapped in a cell but not the traditional sense. You see he was being contained in a reinforced glass box. He was laid out like it was his coffin. He had little room to move and this had been his status now for the past few days.
“I’d like to speak with him,” said the woman.
“It’s not advisable, my Lady,” Fishman replied.
The woman smiled again. “Your advice is noted doctor,” she said. “Now open the door.”
George had been staring up at the roof in a daze. There was little else for him to do at that point. He heard a tap on the glass of his coffin. He turned his head slowly and found the woman peering in at him.
“Can you hear me?” she asked.
Her voice was a little muffled but George could hear her. She sounded like his mother in a lot of ways.
“You are going to stay in containment for a long time,” said the woman.
George stared back at her blankly.
“I have something for you,” she said. From her bag she removed a stuffed mouse.
George’s eyes widened when he saw Cecil.
“Give me him!” he yelled.
“No,” she replied, sitting the toy on top of the glass. “Toys are for boys who behave. You haven’t been behaving.”
“Give me Cecil,” George demanded.
“When you learn to behave you can have him,” said she.
George sniffed. He pouted like a child of eight as opposed to a young man of nineteen.
“I want Cecil,” he said.
The woman shook her head. “I think you’ve had too many privileges.” She lifted Cecil again. She grabbed him around his neck. George’s head whipped round to her to see what she was going to do next. She clutched Cecil’s left ear.
“Stop it,” George cried.
Rip! The ear was torn off.
“Nooooo!” George was yelling. “Stop it!”
The woman pulled some of the stuffing out. George began to sob. He tried to reach out to grab the pieces as she dropped them on top of the glass. This frustrated him more.
“Are you going to behave?” she asked him.
“Cecil!” George was crying.
She held Cecil up. George could see the Chamberlain wreath on her jacket. Lady Jane Christie nee Chamberlain, aunt to the unfortunate child Francis, grabbed the head of Cecil with one great heave.
“Nooooooo!” George was screaming.
The pieces, the stuffing and the crusty Cecil were rested on top of the glass as the woman made her departure.
“Should we sedate him now, my lady?” Fishman asked.
“No,” Lady Jane stated. “Let him look upon the mess he’s made for a little while.”
“The Cappy dying must have given the Owens a change of heart,” Simon Penn suggested as he and his brothers took a look around their Auction House.
“Perhaps,” Marcus responded. “Although most of the more precious items had been removed prior to it being put up for lot and most of the clientele were refusing to deal with Owen Inc so it wouldn’t have been much use to them.”
The door was opened by a Loyalist named Ivor. “A visitor, sir,” he said.
“Good afternoon,” the tall frame of Howard Bergman entered. Seth was by his side carrying gifts of fruit and wine.
Simon embraced Howard first, then Seth with an affectionate pat on the back. The others did too.
“Don’t put yourselves out on my account. It’s good to have you back in Main again,” said Howard.
“Time to get things back in order,” Marcus said.
Simon observed the grander picture. “I hope you’re doing okay, Howard. I heard what happened to you too.”
Howard massaged his temple but he smiled. “It has all been so difficult. I’m so sorry for your loss. I remember the first time I learned there was a figurehead in City Main who went by the title of king. I asked myself, what kind of man would have such boldness? Then I met your grandfather. Reginald was always by his side growing, learning and doing what was best for this area much like a king would.”
The triplets smiled fondly.
“Reginald made a lot of changes here for the benefit of City Main. He was forced to react harshly at times, especially when you were threatened. I hate to say it but those harsh decisions he made … All roads lead to the same place in the end I suppose. I guess what I’m saying is please try to stay out of trouble.”
Reggie and Simon laughed. Marcus managed a smile.
From among the gifts Howard collected an urn.
“Sophie cleared it with the Law Makers. I thought you might like your father’s ashes to lie with your mothers.”
The three took in the urn. Simon took a sharp intake of breath and hugged Howard again.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely.
“My part was very minimal really.”
The urn was set down. “There you are Reginald. You keep your boys right.”
Seth was getting a bit concerned with how Reggie looked.
“I’ve got a joint rolled,” Seth said. “C’mon we’ll step out.”
Reggie brightened. “We’re back together!” he affirmed. He wrapped his arm around Seth’s neck. “Welcome back dad!” he turned Seth to the entrance and as he escorted him out he started to sing a Coldford City football chant. It was a chant created to inspire the players. It was a chant that demanded nothing less than victory. It was as good as the Penn motto.
When they had cleared the room Howard spoke to Marcus.
“We had a call from Isaac. Thankfully he’s coming home. He sounded well enough. I’m a little worried about Seth though. He’s angry given everything and he really wants to hit back. I don’t want that for him. I don’t want him involved. The reason I tell you this is because you will be the first person he’ll turn to.”
“I’ll keep him safe,” Marcus confirmed.
Howard sighed. “Thank you.”
Sat behind the glass and dressed in the kit of a Montefort inmate, Reggie had to look twice to assure himself they had brought him to the right person. Leona still had the same island flare in her eyes but they had cut off her long braid. Her purple ribbons had been removed from her. Her soft features had been stirred into a harshness in her look. She didn’t smile. She didn’t hold any discernible expression at all.
“I hope you can get home,” Reggie told her.
She didn’t soften any at this. She didn’t add any emotion. Reggie supposed time in the Monte would take away the drug addled state she was used to. Article 22 had meant she was to be held until trial. Jean Luc advised it was likely they would sanction her and return her to the bay.
“I’m disappointed,” said Reggie. “I wish it could have been different. I wish it could have worked like we spoke about. I was always told I was a survivor. My brothers were taken away from me. I had to survive without them. My dad was shot dead in the street. I had to go on. It’s what he would have wanted me to do. Tabitha, my closest friend in this world, was there but I was told I couldn’t see her. My mother, my dear mother, died in my arms. I wanted to survive still but I was running out of reasons to. I had nothing left. Every morning I woke up in so much pain, waiting on a call to tell me Marcus and Simon were lost to that place and would never come home. I asked myself why I was surviving. Billy Owen should have just finished the job. Then you came over and I had reasons to survive again. I spoke to a guy, Reynolds. He told me that churches like yours recruit but he did say you probably truly believed it was what was best for me. You were there for me when I needed reasons to survive and for that I wanted to thank you. For that there will always be a part of me that wishes I had just gotten on the damn ferry with you.”
Leona stared back, silent and still expressionless.
“That’s all I came to say,” Reggie concluded as he stood.
Leona called him back. He paused.
“I hope you are saved,” she said
“I hope you get out of here. I hope you get back to the island. I don’t want you to stress yourself for the baby’s sake. We’ll work it out. Just take care of yourself.”
At that he departed. His brothers were waiting for him. Reynolds had told him the healing would begin. There were tough times ahead but if he followed the advice it would all be groovy.
Leona was taken back to the rec hall. She hoped she would get back to the island too. She had no fear though. She had faith. She prayed and Wigan told her she was exactly where she needed to be. She was approached by another inmate. She was an older woman, confident despite the incarceration. Leona knew her face.
“Hello, Mrs Harvester,” she said.
Nan Harvester reached out and clasped the Wigan girl’s hand.
“Will you pray with me?” she asked.
Meanwhile, the triplets had gathered outside, accompanied by Reynolds. The agent stepped politely aside as the brothers embraced.
“We’ve got a lot of work to do. Things are going to get real whack,” Reynolds told them. “But you’re through the worst. The guards in there will do what they can to keep her safe and the baby.”
“How can we repay you agent?” Marcus asked.
“You have a place. You’re a king. Look after your people. That’s all the thanks I need.”
Reynolds phone started to ring. It was an old device he carried, real retro. As long as the people who needed him could reach him that was fine.
“I’m with the Penn triplets,” he told the caller, presumably Kim Adams. “I’m on my way. I’ll meet you at Chamberlain Docks. We’ll head on over from there.”
He closed the call. To the triplets he said, “some heavy news I’m afraid. There’s no real good way to do this and time is not on our side so I’ll dive right in. Harper Lane and Gabriel Dalway, I know they are friends of yours. I’m so sorry but they have been murdered.”
“What about their son, Elliot?” asked Marcus.
“We have reason to believe he’s been taken over to the island. We’re going over there. We’ll find him if they have.”
“We can help,” offered Reggie.
“No can do. It’s too gnarly,” Reynolds advised. “You’re carrying an injury, you have records and all kinds of other baggage. A smaller team will be easier to move. What you can do is work with CPD. Bring some of your guys down from Main and wait for us at the docks. We can be sure of some support with whatever we might bring back. There could be some backlash if we bring Dominick Cole in.”
“You’re going for the church leader?” Simon had to confirm.
“The only way this will stop is to cut off the head off the snake.”
We’re all on our way to Hathfield Bay. We’re taking along the family for the day!
We’re going to watch the game. I hope it doesn’t rain.
Either way we’ll have a ball on Hathfield Bay.”
A ball was to be had. A small group of Webb fishing vessel was what brought Reynolds to the beaches of Hathfield Bay, accompanied by the rest of the Good Gang team. They used Nan Harvester’s discrete route that landed them on the east section of the island close to the commune.
“We need you to stay focused,” Kim said to the others.
Lydia seemed eerily calm. Teddy was gathering his thoughts as they approached.
Before their departure to the island, Teddy showed me a most interesting item. Hailing from the Great States and working a ranch he was a true cowboy. He carried the spirit that Chick Owen much admired and his brother Billy would have been jealous of. Teddy was a larger than life figure. Billy, on the other hand, was a bully. He was formidable and when he was in the room you heard him above all others. You fell under his great shadow. He held the room by the throat. It didn’t matter what he did though. If Teddy were to share the same space people were more likely to gravitate towards him. Billy was a despicable creature, and he couldn’t understand why the mild-mannered, warm-hearted Teddy would be preferred. What would have grinned Billy the most was The Cappy’s appreciation of Teddy. Billy had been called upon to carry out the dirty work no one in the right mind would care to do. On the other hand Teddy was a poster child for the Owen family. He was what The Cappy always envisioned the Owen name to be. Teddy was the true blood of Captain Hen Owen.
It was for this reason The Cappy had gifted Teddy the shooters he presented to me. Surprisingly the shooters were embossed with the Wigan cross. They had come into The Cappy’s possession and over the years he had saved them for just the right person. They originally belonged to a man named Bob Colbert. He was better known as Bad Bob. He was a strong follower of Wigan. He grew up in a Great States town named Addersville. In his youth, Bob observed his lawless town, praying to Wigan for it to improve. He prayed for the strength for Bartholemew to carry him. He even called on the spirit of St Michael to determine who could be saved and who could be redeemed.
Bad Bob grew to become the unofficial sheriff of Addersville. The town turned to him for protection and so he gathered a flock that Noah Wigan himself would be proud of. He was righteous and determined to protect them.
One night, the town was raided by a group of bandits. Bad Bob had prayed to Wigan for favour and Wigan blessed him. His hand was faster, his draw quicker and his bullets true. He took out the bandits and brought the people of Addersville to the safety of Wigan’s embrace. They praised Wigan and the praised Bad Bob.
When they were young boys, Dominick and Bart would play a game where they would recreate the adventures of Bad Bob. He was a much admired figure in the church.
Teddy, being the sentimental sort appreciated this gift from The Cappy causing him to read the Wigan texts out of interest. Chick – an avid lover of historical stories – appreciated the awe and respect Bad Bob inspired. If there were any within his own brood who deserved the same it was Teddy. Teddy had holstered this guns before heading to the island. Bad Bob had led his flock well so he supposed he could encourage the same in the church members. Hopefully he could help end their carnage.
Far from the cheerful attitude it held during the day for all the day trippers, the bay was quiet. The Church of St Wigan stood high on the dunes. There was a light on within.
As the Good Gang departed the vessel Reynolds pulled Kim back.
“These church goers can get real wild,” he warned her.
As Teddy, Franklin and Lydia made their way to the church, Reynolds made his way along the beach to someone who had been waiting him for a long time.
“Duh!” little baby Elliot was crying as he was carried around to the bottom of the bay.
He struggled a little in Autumn’s arms. He had liked Autumn. She told him stories in a funny voice. She had a freckled face like the story time presenter from the Savo Pig hour.
“NO!” this time he was screaming his protest. He really didn’t like to be carried to the bottom of the bay.
“Settle down, Elliot,” Autumn warned. “It’ll be all over soon.”
She laid him in the fire pit. He was crying. His full little lips pouting.
“Shhhhhh!” she said.
Elliot was screaming at the sight of her big black eyes.
“You’re going to die and it’s going to hurt,” said Autumn, positively giddy. She already had the matches in her hand. “You are going to die!” she cheered at him.
“No. No. No!” Elliot was shrieking as the lid of the container was pulled over.
She was dancing in merriment as she lit a match. She turned to look out to sea. There was a great glaring light shining onto the beach. The breeze blew out her match. She had others. She tried to focus through her mushroom trip and through the black waters carrying a shipping vessel. It was like a great arc to her drug addled mind.
Autumn stared at first as the brawn of Kim Adams approached her.
“There’s no sense in talking to them,” Reynolds had said. “They’ll all be out of it.”
“Praise Wigan!” Autumn screamed.
Kim shook her head.
In her mania, Autumn ran at Kim. Kim gripped her by the throat. She threw her to the ground.
Autumn was shot in the foot. She was writhing on the sand.
“Keep this pathway open,” Kim instructed the CPD officers that accompanied her.
Whilst the fishing boats waited on the bay, Reynolds headed to the Church of St Wigan. Standing outside it was Dominck Cole. The agents split. Teddy, Lydia and Franklin made their way inside.
“Good evening, Agent Reynolds. Welcome back to the bay,” Dominick Cole spoke to the cult deprogrammer.
“It didn’t have to go down like this,” Reynolds said to him. “You didn’t have to do any of this.”
Dominick shook his head. “I’m supposed to let this world become overrun with lechers, whores, thieves and murderers? I asked Wigan and he told us all we cannot be saved!”
Reynolds drew his gun.
“Dominick Cole, I’m arresting you for inciting violence,” Reynolds explained.
Dominick stepped back.
“I am not leaving this bay. I’m not going into yer custody so you might as well just shoot me down right now.”
Reynolds cocked his gun and warned. “Enough people have died. It stops now.”
Inside the church upon the dunes, the agents found the pews filled. The bodies that filled them weren’t moving though. Fathers, mothers, children and everything in between. They were all dead. At the altar prayed the man they called the Templar, the living blood of St Michael the Punisher.
He stood when he heard the agents behind him.
He pulled the helmet over his head.
“Come with me,” Reynolds said. “You can have protection in custody. Your followers don’t need to be doing this. Give them some assurance.”
Dominick raised his chin.
“I’ve thought long and hard about this. I cannot abide a world that would let corruption into high office. I cannot stand a system that would be fraught with such blasphemous lies they would let my people be tortured, murdered and brutalised. I’m not going into yer custody. Just kill me now if you like because I am not going anywhere.”
It had been Franklin who had made the first move. The Templar was making his way down the aisle towards Teddy. Lydia had leapt in front of him first. The Templar swung his great sword. Lydia’s tight footwork managed to evade catastrophe but she was sent tumbling to the ground. As the blade was swung at Teddy, Franklin had leapt onto his right side. He used a blade to try and scratch at his neck but the protective gear saved him from too much damage. He threw Franklin off.
Teddy stepped forward. The guns were drawn and a couple of shots sparked. They rattled against the armour. The sword was swung, almost slicing him across the chest. Lydia had leapt again but the Templar threw her off and swung the sword again at Franklin who had just stepped in front of him. Hopping from his right foot to his left he raised his left thigh and whacked into the Templars leg. He noticed a hesitation in the Templar’s step where Chick Owen had inflicted an injury. The other two noticed it too.
Kim and the CPD offers were surrounded by Wigan followers. It was going to be difficult to take them down with minimal casualties. They were all drug crazed, fury inspired and guided by what they felt was righteousness.
CPD were instructed not to engage them. Instead they created a perimeter around them and set it alight. As the Wigan followers tried to charge through the fire towards them they were quickly relieved and restrained.
One in particular came for Kim. Bart grabbed Kim’s arm. She landed a downwards jab into his chest which pushed him back. He tried to heave her aside. She turned her stumble into a change of pressure in her stance and jabbed towards his chin. Bart was high so he wasn’t feeling the pain.
“Come with me now!” Reynolds cried to Dominick. “This ends now.”
There were more. There would always be more. You see, dear readers, religious fanaticism can spread like a disease. This disease can tear at the morality of people. It is highly infectious and when it had spread to far there was only one solution.
We are the children of Wigan and now our time is here.
He accepts us for our evil ways and strips us of our fear.
“Dominick, it’s over,” the church leader could hear Reynolds call to him.
We are the of Wigan and even if we die.
Our saint will take us in his arms and raise us all up high.
Oh, we know, we know, we know we can’t be saved but repent and you’ll be in his embrace.
His Eminence Dominick Cole was brought down with a bullet to his leg.
Whilst CPD continued rounding Bart had tackled Kim again. He had managed to land her on the ground she climbed to her feet again quickly. He charged at her and she landed him to the ground. Whilst CPD rounded up the others, most staying behind the line of fire now, Kim grew tired of grappling. She landed three successive punches to Bart’s face. She gave a jab to his diaphragm and a final uppercut landed him onto ground. With that the carrier was taken into custody.
Inside the church the agents remained focused on their target. Franklin moved from the left side to the right where they knew the Templar to be weaker. Lydia took another strike at the injury. The Templar stabbed towards her shoulder but she managed to dodge. As he was distracted Franklin leapt onto his back. He stuck a clipper into his neck. He was balling with rage. The Templar threw his elbow back and caught him in the stomach. Franklin’s own injuries were making him dizzy but he managed to pull the helmet off.
Teddy’s side was torn as the Templar’s sword caught him. He kept his computer as best he could and fired another shot. The Templar stumbled. The great saintly monster fell. Lydia took the opportunity and pulled off his helmet before he elbowed her and sent her crashing into the benches.
“You cannot be saved!” Hissed the Templar.
“But I can be redeemed,” Teddy replied.
The living embodiment of St Michael the Punisher fell onto the church floor. The spirit of Bad Bob had come with a message for the followers of Wigan. There was a new light shining the way.
On his knees, upon the beach that had always been his home, in the shadows of the religion that had been his life, Dominick watched as Lydia and Franklin departed the church. St Michael the Punisher was gone. The Templar had been killed. The bloodline had been ended. Emerging from that was something quite different but no less important. Walking behind his companions having completed the task was a talk, fair man. On his belt were the Wigan pistols.
“Bad bob!” Dominick gasped.
Seeing the man crossing the sands towards him was as he was being taken into custody was like a sign from Noah Wigan himself.
Of all the stories they were told as children, Dominick and Bartholemew loved the tales of Bad Bob the most. He was daring, he was cunning, he was strong and most of all he was righteous. Teddy Owen quite rightly held those attributes and His Eminence himself would agree there was no better man to carry those pistols.
“David is distraught,” Tabitha was telling Marcus as they waited for word from the island. “I can’t get to him. Elliot is just a baby. Those cunts took the baby. The beheaded the mothers.
“You’ll have to calm yourself, Tabitha,” warned the King.
“If anything happens to that kid,” she was adamant.
“Take it easy,” Marcus advised again. “We’re at the docks right now. We’ll be here when they get back.”
The sight of Loyalist presence at Chamberlain Docks caused a stir among the Swantin residents.
“What are you doing here?” The were asked. “Get yourselves back up to Main.
A Loyalist named Ivor had become a particular target. Shaved head, chin raised and his black and belt attire did make him seem thuggish compared to the Swantin trendsetters.
“We’re just waiting on the ferry, like,” he had said.
“The last ferry left,” he was reminded.
Marcus could see the tension build so he stepped between them.
“Can we help you, sir?” He asked.
“I’m just wanting to know why you’re here.”
Marcus replied, “I don’t believe we know each other well enough to ask questions of our intentions. Perhaps I’m wrong in that assumption. What brings you to the docks? Do you live nearby? Do you frequent here often? Are you in the market for prostitutes?”
The Swantin trendy stared blankly.
“If we’re going to be discussing each other’s intentions we may as well do so thoroughly.”
They eventually scampered off. Ivor gave a laugh.
“Making friends there, Your Majesty,” he jested.
“It has always been difficult to get along with those from Swantin. It’s their jealously, you see,” Marcus replied.
Ivor gave another laugh.
“It must be,” he said. Then he gave some thought to the island.
“Do you think they’ll find the little man?”
Marcus looked out across the sea.
“I hope so,” stated he.
Not so long after they heard the Harbour Master call.
“New arrivals,” he was indicating.
As the Swantin trendy had said the last ferry had departed for the evening. It could only be the return of the Hickes Agency AKA the Good Gang.
“Move back,” indicated the Loyalists as curiosity drew more onlookers. The fishing vessels they had used drew towards the docks. First to alight was Reynolds. In his custody was Dominick Cole, the Wigan church leader. The triplets watched with satisfaction as the church leader who had caused so much carnage in Main was remanded in custody.
Following after was Teddy Owen and Lydia Lowe. Teddy had shown true merit. Owens tended to talk a lot. Most of them would throw themselves into the thick of the action. Teddy did that too but in a humble way that demonstrated for all his only intention was to do the right thing. Stepping onto the docks at their backs was Kim Adams.
There was relief all round when it was seen she carried Elliot in her arms. The child was distressed, clinging to the agent for comfort. He was unharmed though and as sprightly as ever. Kim brought him to the triplets.
“We have some cleaning up to do,” she told him. “I’m trusting you to take Elliot to David at the Knock Knock club.”
“Thank you, agent,” said Marcus. “They will be glad.”
Kim smiled as Elliot relieved his grip on her and reached out to Marcus, climbing into his arms.
“You’ve had quite the adventure, little man,” said Simon to the boy.
“Duh!” Elliot called out for the artist.
“We’ll see him to the proper care,” was Marcus’ assurance.
Kim considered herself a good judge of character. The violence and infamy that surrounded the triplets aside, their father’s killing of Hickes, she judged they genuinely cared for the little boy. The genuinely cared for Tabitha too but that was a judgement for another day.
“Stay out of trouble,” she warned them.
“We will,” they responded in synch.
At that they parted. The Good Gang set about cleaning up, Dominick to seek proper forgiveness from an authority other than Noah Wigan and the triplets to the Knock Knock club to reunite, rebuild and perhaps seek some salvation of their own.
“Someone’s coming,” David heard Tabitha call.
They could see a group heading down towards Clifton Alley.
“Who is it?” David asked.
Tabitha took a closer look. “It’s Loyalists,” she confirmed.
The expressions she could make out on their faces were sombre. They looked as though they had been through a lot. I remained at David’s side. We had no idea what the trip to the bay would bring. David was trying to hold himself together. He was breathing heavily.
“I can see Simon!” Tabitha called. “Simon’s with them.”
Tabitha tried to gauge his expression but Simon always looked pissed off. David was afraid to ask but he had to.
“Do they have Elliot? Is Elliot with them?” he stood to check the window himself.
“Reggie! I can see Reggie. He looks bad.”
The empty cans rolled across Clifton Lane. The nearby traffic lowered to a murmur. Tabitha breathed a sigh of relief.
The relief spread like a cheer through the club when into view came the little boy the King of Main was carrying in his arms.
David rushed out to collect Elliot, alive and well and seemingly enjoyed his trip to the beach.
“Duh!” he cried out, hugging the artist.
“I was so worried about you,” David said. “Are you okay?”
“No,” he said but his little smile told he was just fine.
As CPD cleared the beaches they uncovered Elliot before he had been reduced to ashes.
Tabitha pulled Reggie aside when everything had settled. She slapped his arm.
“Don’t you think I’ve been through enough!?” the triplet protested.
“That’s for thinking you could join a fucking cult,” she told him.
“Good to see you too,” he replied.
Tabitha grinned. She hugged him.
“You’re going to be okay,” she said.
Reggie smiled. He rested his chin on her shoulder. “I have to be, don’t I?”
“Damn right you do,” Tabitha responded.
There were celebrations aplenty at Knock Knock Club that night. For the first time I could feel why it was such a magical place.
“The campaign trails for the city hot seat began this afternoon as bids for the mayoral candidacy open. Given how difficult it has been to hold the mayor’s office in Coldford recently we await with baited breath as the election season begins. Good luck candidates and may the best candidate win. I’m Sandra Wake of Coldford Daily news.”
As the city rejoiced at the end of the religious carnage a new carnage broke out. My story first brought me to the Knock Knock club in search of the missing mayor, Feltz. Tabitha told me she had no idea where he was and the triplets wouldn’t either. The seat then passed on to Mickey Doyle who found himself under the scrutiny of Article 22. He found himself executed as a result – by order of his own cousin. The Office of Lawmakers had been holding the office until a suitable replacement could be elected, using Blackband militants for this purpose. As election season opened and the light shone back on City Hall again my story would continue.