Halle couldn’t think much about her friends’ reaction. She was so nervous to meet Simon.
It had been a few weeks since he had sent the first messages. Since then there were a stream of them, asking about her day, reminding her of how beautiful she was and how glad he was to be speaking to her. He even told her he would like to meet her friends and have a proper relationship with her – kids, marriage; the whole works. When she expressed concern that it all seemed too good to be true he had sent back some pictures.
In the image he was stood on a sun kissed balcony. It didn’t look like Coldford City. There were lots of plants in the background. Wherever it had Helen taken it looked beautiful. What she found the most eye catching about the image was the piece of paper he was holding up. On that piece of paper was written I LOVE YOU, HALLE.
Halle had never been so excited. She felt like she could cry.
WHERE ARE YOU? She asked.
WITH THE FAMILY AT OUR HOME ABROAD. I’LL BE BACK IN THE CITY AGAIN SOON, BEAUTIFUL.
That was when the made the date and how Halle found herself in a small dockside restaurant. She was dressed in her best black dress. Janice had even done her makeup for her. She had never felt so nervous.
They were supposed to meet at six. The time went on half past the hour. There was still no time. She didn’t want to seem impatient, but she was concerned.
WHERE ARE YOU? She asked.
At 6:45 she finally received a response. It wasn’t from Simon. It was from another profile calling themselves RooneyMain.
HI, I’M SIMON’S MANAGER. HE HAS GOTTEN SOME TROUBLE GETTING BACK INTO THE CITY. HE WAS BRINGING SOME PACKAGES FOR YOU AND THEY HAVE BEEN CONFISCATED. THEY WERE GIFTS FOR YOU. HE NEEDS A GRAND TO GET THEM OUT OF CUSTOMS. ARE YOU ABLE TO HELP? HE WILL PAY YOU BACK.
She must have been contemplating her phone with a frown for too long. A woman at the table next to her with what Halle assumed was her partner asked if she was okay.
She shook it off with a polite, ‘I’m fine.’
She was dressed in her best black dress. She spent more time on her makeup than usual. She had even waxed and plucked, just in case things went that well. A girl dressed up, left sat alone, glaring at her phone. It didn’t take a seasoned detective to ascertain what happened.
Before she could respond to the manager, she received a message from Simon.
I’M SO SORRY, BEAUTIFUL. I REALLY WANT TO BE THERE FOR YOU. I’VE BEEN HELD UP SINCE THIS MORNING. I NEED TO PAY THE CUSTOMS FEE AND MY ACCOUNTS HAVE BEEN FROZEN.
THAT’S TERRIBLE she replied. ARE YOU OKAY?
I’LL BE FINE. I’LL SORT IT. I’M JUST SAD I CAN’T SEE YOU.
Halle gave it some thought.
I HAVE SOME SAVINGS. I CAN GIVE YOU THE 1000 IF IT WOULD HELP.
There was some back and forth on whether he could accept that or not. Eventually, it was decided he could. He sent her a digi wallet ID. It was under the name Harriet Malroney. She asked him about this. He told her it was one of the admins for his team.
He told her what an amazing person she was. He said he would pay her back as soon as he gained access to his accounts again.
Halle took a selfie from where she was. He responded with a stream of love eyed emojis.
MY BEAUTIFUL GIRL he wrote, expressing his regret they weren’t sharing their first meal together.
Then the strangest thing happened. He tried to initiate a video call. He must have wanted to apologise face to face. When she answered the call the screen was blank. The noise around her from the restaurant made it difficult to hear anything. The call cut.
TRIED TO CALL. SORRY I COULDN’T SEE YOU.
Halle left the restaurant, dreading explaining to her friends that she never met Simon and she had sent him money.
The full story will be available soon. In the meantime, an internet troll has taken over the city. The race is on to uncover their true identity before more reputations are ruined.
Throughout the Shady City you will find many brands and stores crying for your attention. Whilst the place seems stuck in the past, held in the age of recession the future is still trying to push through. Here are some of the notable websites and brands you should be aware of, as well as the dark stories that lie underneath them.
COBY GAMES INC
Located in the Motherboard, in the Cardyne area of the city, Coby Games is the tech hub of Coldford City. Produced there are the latest in video games, movies as well as cutting edge technology. If you have the latest phone or device, you can rest assured Coby Games is behind it.
Like all things in Coldford there is a dark history to this.
Coby Games CEO, Joshua found himself entangled in what became known as the FREEFALL massacre, where 59 rich and elite in city were drugged and thrown from the top of BECKINGRIDGE TOWER.
Josh, thankfully managed to escape with his life. The harrowing incident remained with him though and he could never shake the fact he was could have been number sixty.
HANGOUT
If you want to connect with people in the city then you had better get yourself on the HANGOUT app. it’s a fast and easy way to share pics and updates with friends and family as well as connecting you with thousands of interest pages.
When it was created by a developer named Iris Korillo, there was huge hope for it being able to bring people together.
It didn’t take long before the easy access to people’s lives was used for a more sinister purpose.
The platform became used for blackmail, extortion, petty squabbles and cyber bullying which led a famed actress to commit suicide on live stream.
To this day the app is still one of the most popular and has millions of users, leaving Iris and her team to keep a watchful eye for anyone using it with malicious intent.
LONESOME NIGHTS
One of the most popular video games in Coldford is Lonesome Nights. In a world where kidnapping, murder and sleazy affairs are a slow news day, in the world of Lonesome Nights you are given the opportunity to be the worst criminal you can be.
Since it is popular, the video game has come under intense scrutiny given it’s easy availability to those under eighteen. It has been blamed for a rise in school shootings as well as an increase in violence amongst youngsters. Is a video game to blame, or is the reality of the Shady City so harsh, it makes the LN drug busts look like fun …
The online world can be a place for the most foul creatures to hide. When an online troll calling themselves PINDROP25 threatens to ruin lives, the pressure is on to reveal their true identity.
As the ashes begin to settle and the city falls to rest,
My mind turns to the ways I still find myself blessed.
My father was a king. He was noble and he was strong,
But even noble men can be led to do wrong.
Sacrifice, he told me, was what it would take.
That is the first thought I have before every decision I make.
He gave his blood and he gave his life.
Soon to follow was his devoted wife.
My mother was a queen. She was doting and she was kind.
Her departure has left three grieving sons behind.
Sacrifice, he told me, even when it means all.
To protect the princes, the king may have to fall.
My brothers are princes. They mean the world to me.
When that world is a brutal one, which sacrifice should it be?
One prince is broken but he will always fight on.
The other is strong, but his fight is gone.
They have to be ready because this world sings a cruel song.
My duty is done and for me it’s too far gone.
She will come searching and She will have her taste.
Sacrifice, he told me, never let it be a waste.
There’s no turning back. The king has to fall.
A better world emerging from the ashes of it all.
Make that sacrifice and make it great,
Because I know what Hell lies in wait.
I see Her watching me. She never truly let me go.
I close my eyes and I feel Her walls close.
Wait! It’s too soon. There’s still much to do!
A sacrifice, he said, king, queen and princes too.
The blood is on my hands. Please just give me time.
I will make my sacrifice if you promise the kingdom will be fine.
The prince is strong. He will find that strength once more.
The broken prince will heal. I’ve seen him do it before.
I just beg you give me time. The sacrifice will be made.
Your walls are closing in but please just give me some space.
Already I feel the fires burn. I know that it is my turn.
I can’t leave them. Not just yet. I will make the sacrifice. I won’t forget.
It is a wicked world, and you are the most savage of all.
I beseech you to release me from your halls.
I will make that sacrifice. I won’t cause a fuss.
Even when that hear that final buzz, buzz, buzz.
Time is running out for King Marcus of Main. Murder charges are looming and the electric chair beckons. Now there is a virulent troll wreaking havoc, set to destroy all he is trying to secure before the inevitable.
Aunt Maggie was a sweet natured woman who took the children in as though they were her own but Duncan was a tough man to find common ground with. The opinionated and feisty Hugo especially struggled.
When they sat around the table it was up to Maggie to hold them in pleasant conversation. She liked the family atmosphere. The droughty Swantin townhouse they lived in was old and had dulled plenty over the years. Maggie enjoyed the children’s voices lending some festivity. Dinner was always on the table for Duncan returning from the boats. His pipe was filled and a glass of Macks whiskey ready to warm his innards. The children were cleaned and seated awaiting him to join them before they ate. On this particular afternoon, Alice was making one of her infrequent visits back home. She hadn’t brought her children with her and her husband was busy as always at the office.
Bayside lemon sole had been served on this day. It was fresh from their own family nets. When Duncan finally joined them he noticed Hugo was staring at his plate. He found the young boy difficult. Alice had learned to behave. She was a fine young woman. The two little ones were also agreeable. They mostly stuck to the ‘children should be seen and not heard’ rule of Duncan’s house. Hugo on the other hand had wrinkled his nose at his plate.
“What’s wrong with him now?” Duncan asked, expecting his wife to answer for the boy.
Aunt Maggie looked a little concerned. She didn’t want another argument to flare up between them.
“I have asked that I not be given fish,” Hugo told him. “I don’t like to eat fish. I’m vegan.”
“Do shut up,” Alice snapped at her brother, who had joined them on this day without her own family. “He’s vegan these days …” she added with a roll of her eyes.
“Vegan?” Duncan challenged.
“It means I don’t eat animals,” Hugo returned a little testily.
Heather and Fergie looked to each other but both turned back to their own plates to show they had no issue with the meal.
“It’s fish,” Duncan snarled at his nephew.
“A fish is a living thing,” Hugo said. “I don’t eat living things. I don’t eat animals or their products.”
Alice took her napkin and dropped it onto her lap impatiently.
“Stop being so bloody ungrateful,” she warned. “It’s lovely sole and Aunt Maggie has spent all afternoon preparing it. You’re being disrespectful.”
“If he doesn’t want …” Aunt Maggie tried to protest but her husband took control of the table.
“Are you, the son of a fisherman, refusing to eat fish?”
Alice was shaking her head, holding her fork and still waiting for Duncan to begin before she did.
“I’m saying, eating animals is murder.”
“Hugo!” Alice shrieked. “What has gotten into you?”
“I’ll tell you what has gotten into me, Alice,” Hugo became heated. “For a while now I’ve been saying I am vegan but no one bloody listens. I also refuse to have our father’s name used against me in my life choices. He may have been a fisherman but I’m not. Aunt Maggie, I apologise for any disrespect to you but I will not eat any animal.”
Duncan threw his chair back and stood.
“Come with me now,” he ordered the boy. “We’re going to have some words, pal.”
Hugo stood too, not quite the height of the uncle. The two made their way to the lawns at the rear of the house. Aunt Maggie nervously pulled the kitchen window closed.
Outside, Hugo stepped onto the patio but Duncan continued down the lawns towards the sheds. Hugo had been expecting them to have one of Duncan’s disciplinary discussions. Perhaps he would throw a fist or two. As he watched Duncan head to the sheds he followed after him quickly.
“No!” Hugo started to protest.
He must have found it.
Duncan unlocked the main shed and from within it he dragged a dog by the fur on the back of its neck. The dog was an old thing. It was a mixed breed. Hugo had kept it in the shed for a couple of weeks by then after it had wandered onto their lawns. Duncan would never have allowed it in the house. He firmly believed dogs were working animals.
“What is this!?” Duncan snapped.
“It’s a dog,” Hugo answered sharply. He was concerned but his anger seemed to cover that. “It’s old and tired. I was keeping him comfortable.”
The gardener must have found it.
“Keeping a filthy dog in my sheds!?” Duncan growled. He then threw a shovel to his nephew. “Put it down,” he ordered.
Hugo glared at him. The dog didn’t have much time left anyway. When he hesitated the uncle pushed the shovel into his chest.
“Take care of it. Put the damn thing down before it spreads diseases. You will stop all this animal nonsense or you will get out of my house.”
“I’d rather leave,” Hugo spat back.
Duncan pushed the shovel into his chest once more.
“You will learn your place, boy,” he warned.
Meanwhile, back in the dining room Aunt Maggie looked at the children with some trepidation. She didn’t want them to have to worry. She tried to keep things as calm as she could.
“Maybe we should just go ahead. They could be a while,” she said to them.
Alice cut into her sole. The two little ones watched her take a bite before they began too. They heard a shriek from outside and it sounded very much like Hugo.
It was Hugo. He was screaming. He swung the shovel at Duncan when the uncle kicked the dog. The dog was too weak to try and run away. It’s whimpers infuriated the nephew. Duncan – the old fisherman – was firm enough to dodge his nephew’s swung.
“You should be put down!” Hugo cried. “You have no compassion.”
Duncan threw him back.
“Stop your nonsense, pal or I will make you!”
CLANG!
“What if I put you down, huh? pal!”
CLANG!
Hugo had managed to hit the uncle. Duncan writhed a little. He tried to snatch the shovel back from his nephew’s hand but Hugo swung it and hit him again.
Inside the house the two younger siblings looked to each other again. They always did in times of stress and nothing stressed them more than hearing Hugo’s screaming.
“Would you like some more tatties?” asked Maggie of Fergie. “I know you always liked a little extra.”
Fergie was going to give a reply but he paused and shuddered amidst another cry.
“No thank you, Aunt Maggie,” the little boy replied politely.
Eventually the nephew returned from the gardens. Hugo had left the shovel behind. His brow knotted with fury. He used both hands to smooth back his hair, sharpening the widow’s peak hairline he had taken from their father.
Aunt Maggie, Alice and the children watched him with some wonder.
“Duncan and I have ironed out our differences. He has agreed to respect my decision not to consume animal products. I will also be keeping an old terrier dog in the sheds. He doesn’t have much longer to go so I’m keeping him comfortable and happy in his final days.”
Hugo took his seat at the table again. He pushed the plate of sole away. Aunt Maggie collected it and carried it over to the counter.
“In light of family spirit perhaps you will all join me in a vegan lifestyle. It’s healthy and above all it’s humane.”
“Hugo, darling,” Aunt Maggie pressed. “You loved sole when you were little.”
Hugo nodded.
“Things change, Aunt Maggie. Humans progress and we get a better idea of where we are. Perhaps the little ones would like to help me take care of the dog. He’s very friendly.”
Heather smiled despite it all. “Does it still walk?”
Hugo nodded. “He does. He can make it a little around the yards if you lead him slowly and gently.”
Alice thought of Uncle Duncan. There was an old dog that was going to have to be led gently from now on.
Hugo Webb is passionate about his causes. He is protective of his siblings. When both of them are threatened by an online troll he finds himself racing against the clock to uncover their true identity.
Reginald Penn, dedicated king, disreputable hooligan and loving husband had certainly lived a full life. From the royal courts of Luen to the filthy streets of Coldford City he thought he had seen it all. Nothing offered him the challenge that being the father of identical triplets did.
When one woke through the night, as infants tended to do, the sound of their cry would always stir the others. Reginald’s wife, Rita, didn’t like them to be in separate rooms when they were so young, despite the penthouse suite of the Faulds building, in which they lived, having ample space.
“When one gets up they look for the others and they get upset when they can’t find them,” was Rita’s reasoning.
“Of course, my love,” Reginald agreed.
It was easier to keep them together when they were infants anyway. They were content that way and stayed settled. They were easy enough to handle until middle boy, Simon, found the ability to pull himself out of his cot.
Marcus, the eldest, was the most patient of the three. He would watch quietly as fuss was made by the youngest, Reginald Junior. Reggie didn’t cry. He just tended to make a lot of noise trying to follow Simon. With some frustration on his little face it would appear Marcus was chastising his brothers for not staying put.
Taking care of babies is a chore for anyone. Then they reach that terrible toddling stage and all Hell breaks loose.
Rita was hesitant to be apart from the triplets. In the few years since giving birth to them she had barely left their side. A trip abroad without them had rendered her nervous.
“Just enjoy the trip,” Reginald told her over the phone.
“I will,” she replied. “The weather has gotten terrible so we are delayed. How are the boys?”
“They’re fine,” Reginald confirmed. “They’re no match for their old man.”
Rita chuckled.
“Don’t let them gang up on you.”
“Don’t worry,” Reginald insisted. “The boys and I will keep ourselves occupied until you get back. Just enjoy yourself. Call me when you land.”
He could hear the warm smile radiate through her voice.
“I will. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he responded. “I’ll speak to you soon.”
When he closed the call, he looked over to his sons, seated in the lounge. Marcus was busying himself sorting blocks by colour. Simon was building them up as high as he could reach and knocking them back down again. Reginald couldn’t be prouder. He really was blessed with wonderful sons. Then he took a closer look.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” he muttered.
Simon chortled. “Shit,” he called back.
Reginald frowned. “Don’t repeat me,” he warned.
He rushed back to the phone and called downstairs.
“Uncle Mand? I’m going to need you to come up for a few minutes. I need your help.” Reginald listened to the booming voice of his uncle return to him.
“Could you just come up, please. Bring Jeen, I could use his help too.”
Uncle Armand and his son Jean Luc arrived at the penthouse suite shortly after.
“What’s the problem? he asked.
Marcus and Simon were still playing blocks in the lounge. Reginald looked a little stressed.
“Take a look,” the nephew beckoned.
Armand glanced at the boys.
“Precious little lads. What more do you want?”
Reginald frowned. “You don’t see it?”
Armand took another look. They appeared to be in good health.
Reginald groaned. “There should be fucking three of them Uncle Mand.”
Simon chortled again. “Fuckin’,” he declared.
“Don’t repeat me,” Reginald warned his son once more.
“Which one is missing?” asked the uncle.
“Junior,” answered Jean Luc. “Always Junior.”
“He’s around here somewhere,” Reginald told him. “I can’t leave the other two to search for him or they’ll be off too. He’ll have fallen asleep in the linen basket again or he’ll be looking for his mother.”
Jean Luc pursed his lips.
“How can you be so careless?” he asked.
“Careless?” Reginald responded. “The minute Marcus learned to walk he taught the other two. Before I know It I’m having to herd them in. Whenever Rita’s here they won’t leave her side. As soon as she steps out they scatter and I’m outnumbered. I’m evening up those numbers. I don’t need your griping Jeen. I just need you to help me round them up.”
Jean Luc glared at his cousin. “Do I look like a fucking collie dog?”
“Fuckin’”
“Stop repeating, Simon!” Reginald warned the middle boy again. Turning back to his cousin he chided, “don’t use that kind of language in front of the boys. Uncle Mand? Could you sit here with Marcus and Simon? Jeen? Just help me find Junior.”
As his son and nephew wandered off in search of the missing triplet, Armand took a seat on the sofa. Enamoured by his great uncle, Simon came wandering over to him. Marcus inspected his brother’s movements from afar. Simon passed Armand a piece of paper he had scribbled on.
“Is that for me?” asked the uncle affectionately, looking at the markings the child had made in blue crayon. “You are a sweet lad,” he chuckled. He lifted Simon onto his knee. “Let’s see what we have here, shall we?”
Meanwhile, Reginald and Jean Luc began to search the linen baskets – Reggie’s favourite hiding place.
Jean Luc voiced objection again when his cousin checked under the hood of a false chimney.
“Can you squeeze in there?” Reginald requested of his cousin.
“I most certainly can not,” was Jean Luc’s reply.
“There’s a ledge in there, Junior climbed up on it before. Squeeze in and coax him down.”
“Fine,” Jean Luc agreed, taking his jacket off.
Being shorter in stature and of slimmer build, Jean Luc was able to squeeze in and look towards the ledge.
“Junior? If you’re up there come down at once.”
On the outside, Reginald was distracted from Jean Luc’s muffled voice by the patter of small feet, dashing past him to the master suite.
“Junior!?” called the father. “Why did you take off your clothes?”
Not realising he had been left behind, Jean Luc called, “I hope you’re paying for the dry cleaning, Reg. It will take nothing short of a miracle to get this filth out.”
Meanwhile, downstairs, Armand held Simon to his chest. Looking over to where he had been playing he could see the blocks Marcus had been sorting by colour, but no Marcus. Armand looked to Simon.
“Where did your brother go?”
“Shit! Shit!” Simon declared.
“I quite agree, lad,” said Armand. Simon laughed as Armand tucked him under his arm and went in search of the other triplet.
As the hunt commenced for Marcus, Jean Luc had climbed back out of the false chimney, wiping dust and dirt from his clothing.
“The filth up there,” he was groaning, only to find Reginald was gone. Standing in his place was Marcus.
“Slipped the old man, did you?” he jested to the boy. He reached his hand out. “C’mon. We best go help your father.”
“Why?” Marcus asked.
“Because he’s looking for your brother. He’s gone wandering again.”
“Why?”
“Who knows? I swear you got all the brains.”
Reginald had chased his namesake to the master suite where the troublesome tot dashed onto the balcony.
Reginald the senior stopped in his tracks as Reggie pulled himself to the ledge.
“Junior! Do not move.”
Marcus must have learned to open the damn locks. What fresh Hell was this?
Reginald managed a smile.
“Don’t you want to come in, my boy? It’s freezing out there. Don’t you want to put some clothes on?”
Reggie looked back at him. The stream of city lights down below was just too enticing. The father was going to have to do much better than that.
“If you come in you can have some ice cream … for breakfast.”
Reggie offered a look that suggested, ‘you’d never let me eat ice cream for breakfast, old man.’
Reggie heaved his bare little backside up onto the ledge. Before he could get a good look at the city lights his father snatched him up into his arms.
“Do not go out there,” was the father’s stern warning. “I swear, boy. You are going to be my life’s work.”
When he got back to the lounge, Jean Luc had returned, leading Marcus by the hand. Armand was carrying Simon, who had rested his head against his uncle’s chest with heavy eyes.
“Ah, you found him,” said the uncle, taking in Junior in Reginald’s arms. “That lad is naked.”
“Why?” asked Marcus.
“Get used to it, my boy,” said Jean Luc. “I have a feeling you’re going to be asking that of your brother for a long time.”
Reginald breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s all three accounted for. I’m going to have to bolt the damn balconies.”
“Why?”
“Because you figured the locks, Marcus.”
“Keep your voice down,” said Armand. “Little Simon is falling asleep.”
Before Reginald could fetch clothing for the youngest of the triplets there was a call from reception.
“Sorry to disturb you sir,” said the receptionist, politely. “I was asked by Madame Penn to let you know her flight was cancelled and she’s returning home.”
“Thank you. I have to go. I’m just dressing the boys.”
“Of course, sir.”
Reginald returned to his uncle and cousin. “Rita’s on her way back. I better get the boys to bed.”
“It is getting late,” said Jean Luc to Marcus. “Past your bedtime, ah?”
“Why?”
“I don’t make the rules. That’s just how it is.”
Marcus yawned. He supposed it was time for bed after all.
After dressing Junior in pyjamas again the three placed their respective triplet in a cot. The lights were lowered. Simon clutched Armand’s arm until the very last minute. Then he gave himself to sleep.
“Papa?”
Reginald turned back to find it was Marcus who had called on him.
“Just go to sleep, my boy,” said the father tenderly. “Your mother will be …”
“Mother!”
Like the word was some ancient incantation, Reggie sprang to life again and started to cry.
“Mother! Mama? Mother!”
This calling stirred Simon.
“Mother?” he asked.
Marcus sat in his cot, already succumbed to the fact he was not to have an easy night’s rest. Reginald was trying to urge them to hush.
“Mama!!!” the three were now crying.
Reginald gulped down his impatience.
“If you don’t go to sleep right now, mother isn’t coming back!”
“Reginald!” Jean Luc scolded. “Don’t be so cruel.”
“Good night, boys,” said Reginald with a more pleasant tone. “The sooner you go to sleep the sooner … for fuck sake, Junior! Keep your pyjamas on!”
“Fuck sake,” Simon raised his head to say.
By the time Rita returned from the airport Reginald was seated in the lounge. He had composed himself as though it had all been a breeze. He greeted his wife with a warm kiss.
“I’m sorry about your trip,” he said. “Maybe another time.”
“Did the boys give you any fuss?”
“They’re good boys. They were looking for you but they settled down.”
Rita smiled sweetly. “I’ll just go look in on them.”
“You go ahead,” said Reginald in a nonchalant manner. As soon as Rita started to make her way to the nursery, Reginald dropped the book he had been pretending to read and followed after her to make sure Junior had remained clothed, Simon remained in his cot and Marcus had kept his hands off any locks.
Thankfully, they were all sleeping soundly.
Hearing his mother’s voice, Simon stirred again.
“Hello, baby,” said the mother softly.
He sat up, wiped the sleepiness from his eyes and reached his arms out to her. She lifted him up and rocked him.
“Did you have a nice time with your dad?” she asked.
Simon yawned. He rested against her and said, “fuckin’ shit mama.”
The Penn family of Main are notorious throughout Coldford City. The triplet princes are all grown up now and find themselves the target of a troll with deadly intentions.
ARC is a Coldford-based charitable organisation established to fight for the rights of all animals. Like their human counterparts, all other species on this planet are able to feel pain, fear and love. ARC exists to ensure all animals are treated ethically. ARC – Animal Rights of Coldford. Get involved.
Led by social media influencer, Hugo Webb, the ARC have made great strides in protecting the rights of animals in Coldford City and beyond. They are responsible for protecting the Subalan elephant and the Kuberstani wildcat among others.
Their cause is a just one and Hugo is no hypocrite in his beliefs. He will stand by them no matter what. This is where the ARC becomes a bit of a problem. They are overzealous in their approach and can be extreme in their reactions. They have been known to throw acid in the faces of models who wore fur, harass pet owners who aren’t keeping up to their standards and most often making a nuisance of themselves at PERRY ZOO.
From a fishing family, Hugo abandoned the family business to pursue his love of animals. He is unshakable in his cause because he believes he is just. He isn’t exactly wrong in that. Most believe cruelty against animals is wrong. It’s just, how the ARC go about it!
No one knows how to go viral like Hugo Webb. That is of course until a troll calling themselves PINDROP25 starts messaging him with threats to his family.
Hugo has a huge following and he now finds himself in danger as PINDROP25 seeks to steal his audience.
For those of you who have been on a university campus you will remember how lively and thronging it can be. Tables were set up all along the greens on this day, inviting students to join the Kappa So fraternity or alternatively the Kappa Si sorority. Dawson was proudly wearing his jacket. His dad had been a Kappa So brother so his acceptance was a given. He still had to go through the hazing, but he reckoned he could handle it. The way his body was squeezed into the jacket would no doubt give the frat bros a great place to start.
Nicholas, Russell nor Nasir were interested in pledging. To them it was a lot of butt-paddling they could do without.
“Kappa So get the sweetest pussy! Sign up and pledge before there’s none left.”
Nicholas was trying to decipher why the frat were gathering cats. When he finally caught on to the colloquialism he nodded, “Ah, you mean vagina, very good.”
Russell rolled his eyes. “You sound like a vagina,” he jested.
The tables with all kinds of groups and societies were crying out. They were all calling over one another for the attention of the new students. There were gaming societies, goth societies, vampire societies (not to be confused with the aforementioned goth ones) and there was even a society dedicated to the subject of their first project, Charlotte Grace.
Nicholas was the first to spot the pretty, book nerdish girls with copies of Red Tower on their table.
“Bonjour, mesdames,” he greeted them. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?”
The girls giggled
“That Luen BS actually works,” Russell said to Nasir.
Nicholas’ swoon worthy accent and priggish charm was winning with the romance novel fan girls. Glaring over from his Kappa So bros Dawson wasn’t so enamoured.
“Would you like to sign up for our book group?” asked the bold brunette.
Nicholas lifted the signup sheet.
“I would love to. You see, my friends and I are reading Ms Grace’s work right now and some of your opinions would be most welcome.”
The girl’s giggled again.
“I’m at a loss I must admit,” Nicholas went on. “Perhaps you lovely ladies can be our guides through the pages.”
Dawson had been struggling to earn the affections of his frat brothers. He was going to be going through the hazing soon so he wanted make his name known in his right. One way he figured of doing that was by knocking the Luen toff from his height. Not just a Loyalist, a proper Loyale asshole. It would also give the girl a little something to laugh at too.
Dawson marched over. He deliberately bumped into Nicholas, knocking him against the table and almost tipping it.
“Watch where you’re going,” he sneered.
Nicholas was righting himself when Russell spoke up.
“Maybe you should watch where you’re going. You’re bouncing around all over the place, you fat prick.”
Dawson noticed the bros at the recruitment table had lost interest in whatever he was up to. They were now too busy seeing how many reddened handprints they could get on the belly of a brother named Brady. Ryan Brady was taking the slaps with enthusiasm.
Turning back to the girls, Nicholas said of Dawson, “He’s very rude.”
“He’s a prick,” Russell reiterated.
The girls started to laugh.
“Yes, he is a prick,” Nicholas agreed. He introduced himself to the girls. “My name is Nicky. This good man is Russell and this lovely gentlemen is Nasir.”
It was quite a commotion on the university lawns as more groups and societies bid for the attention of the students. Professor Wilde had come from the building. He was stood at the entrance watching over them.
“Did you know that thousands of racehorses are murdered each year? It’s atrocious that they would make these animals run, put them through gruelling training and then murder them. You? Young lady, do you like horses?”
The young student passing the table nodded. Sure she liked horses. They were beautiful animals. She was obsessed with horses as a pre-teen.
“We are the ARC because animals, too, should have rights in Coldford.”
Curiosity drew Henry from across the lawns to the table where an activist named Hugo Webb was handing out photos of a racehorse named Chancer who had been put down on the field after a race damaged his leg. Hugo was accompanied by a student with long dreadlocks, wearing an ARC T-shirt. On his other side was another student. Henry recognised her from his class last year. She had cut all her hair off and she too was wearing an ARC shirt.
“If you are online use the hashtag ‘justice for Chancer’ and let’s get the entire city talking about this travesty.”
The former student spotted Henry.
“Good afternoon, professor,” she beamed.
Norma Blanche. Her name was Norma Blanche. Henry was glad he remembered.
“Nice to see you, Norma,” he replied politely.
“Do you like horses, professor?” Hugo asked him.
Henry gave a look at the pamphlets that they were handing out. Sure, Chancer was a handsome animal.
“I can’t say I’ve given it much thought,” he admitted. “Although I am curious, why is it a horse is to be put down when it damages its leg? Surely healing it would be more appropriate.”
He had put the question to Norma with whom he had a previous relationship. Hugo chose to speak on her behalf.
“You would believe so, professor. They claim the animal can’t be held still long enough to heal. They say that the animal is in so much pain that it’s the kindest thing to do. We believe the kindest thing to do is to not run the poor creature into the ground for the sake of a damn race. Its Perry Zoo you see. They keep breeding them.”
The student with dreadlocks cried, “Right on!”
More students started to push towards their table. Henry stepped aside to read more of their pamphlet.
Not to generalise but when one embarks on life as a student it is an experience of new beginnings. For most it is the final steps into adulthood. As such, young people tend to find out about themselves and who they truly want to be. Coupled with new found independence it makes activists out of them. Henry noted this as Hugo’s ARC table was flooded with sign-ups. It troubled Henry as he read the pamphlet and came to the section on the ARC’s position on jockeys and racehorse owners. So much so, he interrupted the sign-ups.
“It sounds like you wish violence on them,” said Henry to Hugo of the race staff.
“I don’t mince my words,” Hugo responded. “The kind of person who would be okay with murdering an innocent animal for no good reason doesn’t deserve to live.”
Some of the fresh sign ups cheered at the passion of this statement. Henry knew people were passionate about animals but the idea that racing staff should be put to death he found quite ludicrous. He accepted some people liked to put a shocking spin on their persona when airing controversial views. It made them more memorable. Hugo did take in the phones that were being raised and the videos that were being captured of him. He was smiling but he was not jesting.
“That’s just my opinion of course,” he said. “Everyone is entitled to their own.”
He took his attention away from Henry to another young student with a panda bear clipped to her backpack.
“Congratulations!” he cheered. “You are our one hundredth sign-up. That means I have a little something for you.”
Hugo reached under the table and from a box he produced a horse plushy wearing a white jacket with the ARC symbol on it. The student was delighted as he passed the horse to her.
“Thank you,” she cried excitedly.
“Our next meeting will be in the Beckingridge building next Thursday. I hope you can join us for some tea, biscuits and the chance to give animals their rights back.” To the gathered crowd Hugo called, “I don’t take ‘it’s kinder on the animal’ as an excuse for murder. Don’t hurt the animal in the first place!”
There were more cheers and cries for justice for Chancer. Hugo wrapped his arm around the new sign-up and took a selfie.
Henry lay the pamphlet down. The students were getting rowdy so he thought it best to leave them to it. As he stepped inside again his phone bleeped.
The Kuberstan attack was still the top news story but #justiceforchancer and #ARC were already beginning to trend.
Henry opened the notification.
PURPLEFLOWER HAS A MESSAGE WAITING FOR YOU.
Henry smiled as the closed the notification again.
Creator of the popular HANGOUT app used around Coldford City, Glitch is a sociable girl. She loves to help people stay connected and takes it personally when her baby is used to spread misinformation or cause havoc.
She graduated with honours from Cardyne Tech and she has lived in that area her whole life. Like many of those who settled in Cardyne she is of Subalan origin with blood from the islands of Nisos too giving her a unique beauty.
When an internet troll is Hell bent on creating havoc and ruining reputations it is up to Iris and her team to uncover their true identity.
Like many teenage girls, Debbie Barnet was swept up constantly in the online world. Her mother, Andrea, had banned her from having her phone at the dinner table. She said she wanted to have conversation and chat about their day. That was bullshit. Andrea didn’t care what Debbie had to say. The only reason she didn’t want her scrolling whilst they ate was so she could tell her all about her day and the things that mattered to her. She was a definite narcissist. The only reason she hadn’t let Debbie go stay with her dad was out of spite. She wanted dad to pay for his daughter. To Andrea, Debbie’s existence was no more than a loan agreement. All she had to do was let Debbie text her friends. Instead she insisted on dinner time be the time where they were forced to sit down and listen to her spout about how wonderful she was, how everything she turned her hand to was a success and every idea she had was golden and had to be followed immediately.
Her new boyfriend, Drew, found it cute, Debbie supposed. He didn’t get much of a word in edgeways. At least he wasn’t as disregarded as Debbie.
There was only one person who truly listened to Debbie. It was an online acquaintance who went by the username PINDROP25. They didn’t dismiss her. They always knew the right thing to say and they never left her on read. They always responded. Debbie would sit at the dinner table trying to digest whatever diet fad Andrea had gotten herself involved in. Her phone would have to be left upstairs in her room so she sat would sit the entire time anxiously wondering what PINDROP25 had wrote to her.
She hadn’t met them in real life. She knew if she tried to explain it to others they would think she was mad. She loved them. At least she loved the idea of them. They told her they were a sixteen year old boy who attended St Alban’s school. That was a lot fancier than The Grange Andrea sent her to.
One night, after trying not to gag at the taste of some new fat burning cabbage soup, Debbie dropped her spoon the minute she could and rushed back upstairs to check her phone. There was some notification from a game she had been playing. Her heart skipped a beat when she read the other.
PINDROP25 HAS SENT YOU A MESSAGE.
HI, HOWZ U? They asked.
Debbie wrote back immediately. I’M GOOD. ANDREA STILL A BITCH 🙁
There was the teasing little chat dots as PINDROP25 composed a reply.
SORRY TO HEAR THAT. DO YOU WANT TO VIDEO CHAT?
Debbie let out a squeal of excitement. They hadn’t offered that before. She had been just dying to ask them to meet in real life but was worried they weren’t all that keen. This was a great next step.
SURE. RIGHT NOW? She asked.
AS GOOD A TIME AS ANY was the reply.
Debbie’s hand trembled as she tapped on the camera and started to call. The ringing seemed to bounce off the walls. Within a few minutes the call was answered.
“I can’t see you,” Debbie said. “Are you going to switch your camera off.”
The voice that returned to her didn’t sound like a sixteen year old boy. It didn’t really sound like anything. There seemed to be some kind of digital disguise over it.
The camera was switched on and that didn’t give much more either. PINDROP25 was masked with the face of a character from a banned cartoon called Cecil Mouse.
“Hello, Debbie,” they said. “I’m sorry I have to be concealed. I have to be careful.”
“What’s your real name?” asked the girl, realising she hadn’t asked that before.
“I really like you,” they maintained. “I want to help you. Andrea is getting too much. I can tell that. I want to help you. If you get rid of her we can chat all the time.”
Debbie wasn’t sure she had heard correctly. “Get rid of her?”
“Trust me, Debbiekins, there is no room in this world for real narcs like her. You would be doing yourself a favour. Don’t you want to keep chatting.”
“Of course I do.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be staying with your dad? We could see each other and chat all the time then.”
Debbie agreed. That was the best case scenario. Her stomach was already gurgling with that damn cabbage soup. She could hear Andrea’s cackling laughter downstairs as she guffawed at her own jokes.
“Can I see your face?” she asked.
“I will in time. Just take care of what you need to first and all will be revealed. I’ll help you …”
The video call closed. Debbie was feeling a little shaken. She was angry. She was frustrated. She was starved for food and affection. She wanted to hurt Andrea and end that cackling laugh. Then her phone bleeped.
PINDROP25 HAS SENT YOU A LINK.
HOMICIDE METHODS THAT REMAIN UNSOLVED.
COMING SOON
Enjoy this? Check out these other titles available now!
This brings me to Porter Russo, the third year student at Pettiwick who met his unfortunate demise in the knife attack. He had been a promising baseball player, handpicked for the Junior City Mainers baseball team and well liked among his classmates. That was at least what the family had thought. No one had expected Deborah to go mad. But then her daddy joined a cult so what did they know? Porter was always online so his sister requested the memorial page. It comforted their mother to see the well wishes flood in from his schoolmates. They posted pictures of themselves with Porter. The coach from the baseball team too left some comments on how he would be missed.
The day before the funeral, the sister, Pamela Russo, had woken in the early hours. She couldn’t sleep so she logged on to Porter’s memorial page to post some final arrangements to those who were coming along to bid him farewell in real life.
Her heart skipped a beat when she noticed someone calling themselves PINDROP25 had posted a picture of Porter. The picture had been doctored to show blood streaming from his neck. Cecil Mouse was looming behind him holding a knife.
IT’S HOT IN HELL BUT I’M HANGING ON. SEE YOU ALL SOON.
Pamela was understandably upset. She contacted @hangoutmod and the comment was removed. Such is the way with these things.
Within hours more pictures had been posted. Other people had seen the comment before it was pulled and were starting to respond. Most were calling PINDROP25 a vile troll. PINDROP25 flooded the feed with laughing faces and more doctored photos of Porter, showing him being molested by a cartoon Satan. These comments were pulled too. The HANGOUT admin jumped quickly on deletion of comments but PINDROP25 kept popping up in various other forms. Iris’ team were kept busy trying to contain the fall out. She could have just deleted the page but she felt that wasn’t fair on Porter or those who had come genuinely to share their memories. Pamela Russo was of the same mind. Why should a stupid troll be allowed to ruin outpouring from family and friends? The troll seemed to multiply and the day after the funeral the memorial page had become a hot mess. It was flooded with mockery to Porter and his family. Even the young girl he had been going steady with became a target. She had been in the class at the time and the mental health trouble she had suffered as a result became perfect troll feed.
Eventually PINDROP25 took a step back. Their job was done. Other trolls jumped on the bandwagon. When Pamela confronted one calling themselves SOULDIGGA13 they told her they were merely highlighting the ridiculousness of the memorial page concept. According to them it wasn’t a show of genuine concern. It was an outlet for egos and fakers.
STAY OFF MY BROTHER’S PAGE! Pamela had responded.
Pamela connected with Iris herself through chat. She still insisted that the page wasn’t pulled. She wasn’t going to be strong armed by trolls. Then a DM was sent to Pamela and Porter’s mother. It was a picture of Porter’s coffin.
ONE DOWN. ONE TO GO it teased.
When Pamela found out her mother had sent her life savings to them trying to make them stop she was furious. She and Iris had another chat. Iris collected all the data she could. It was now up to CPD to find the trolls. The search for PINDROP25 continued.
COMING SOON
For all the latest updates don’t forget to subscribe to the newsletter. In the meantime check out these other thriller titles available now.
