One might assume that the work of a funeral director in Coldford would never be done. The streets of the Shady City are perilous after all with violence, corruption and oneupmanship waiting around every corner. Eugene Morris doesn’t let that distract him though. His job isn’t a pleasant one but it must fall to the hands of someone. He finds himself in homes from the Shanties strips to the mansion houses of Filton. Death is equal in its pursuit.
Eugene Morris aka The Tailor pays close attention.
He treats his clients with the utmost respect, courtesy and dignity. In return he expects nothing less for himself. No matter the name, BECKINGRIDGE, OWEN, DOYLE or FULLERTON, they all lie the same way on the Tailor’s table. Eugene pays no mind to disputes and squabbles rising around him. It is simply his job to clean up the mess and kiss the foreheads of those who would otherwise be forgotten about. No one would want him choosing sides anyway. When death favours, things get really messy.
Not an easy job but someone has to do it.
He earned the title of The Tailor because of the attention to detail he places on his client’s final suit. Exceptionally talented at capturing the life of the deceased in how they are laid to rest, his skills as an actual tailor come in quite handy. He is whimsical in appearance, timeless and elegant. Eugene is a personable enough man, pleasant and kind but like the death which he serves no one really wants him to be knocking on their door.
Coming May 02 2020
Harbour House rehabilitation clinic brings together regrets, losses and life long bonds. If the program doesn’t work then there is always space on the Tailor’s table.
There are so many platitudes that can start this off.
“We all make mistakes.”
My favourite is:
“To never make mistakes is to never learn.”
We’re only human at the end of the day. I wanted to take a look at those platitudes and consider the mistakes I’ve made in my own life. Some have been silly, others have had much more dire consequences.
I’m a clumsy mess some days. I’m a mixed bag of efficient, logical thinking and ham-handed to the point of sitcom humour. I can also be scatterbrained and yet suprisingly strong for my stature. With that kind of make up, mistakes are inevitable.
I’m not just talking about knocking the coffee mug off the counter. I’m talking about mistakes that run a little deeper. Trusting the wrong person, refusing to take care of yourself properly or even taking an easier route out of a sticky situation that makes matters worse. I think we’re all guilty of those in our lives. If you haven’t been, then I wish you the best and may that never come to you.
I was asking myself, just the other day, what the biggest mistake I ever made was. I was unable to pick one. We lose count of the amount of times we have gone wrong in life. The thing about mistakes is even if they seem so daunting at the time, upon reflection they are so much easier to wrap your head around. Yes, you may have trusted the wrong person. That person isn’t in your life anymore. They now stand as a memory. You drank too much, ate to much of the wrong food. You maybe even took substances you knew you shouldn’t. If you’re realising this now, then that means the mistake has been made and you have time to heal. You chose the easy way out. Maybe you left a friend in the lurch to protect your yourself. Maybe guilt even eats at you as you think about it. That guilt, is a sign of learning. You know it was a mistake.
Mistakes truly are something we can all learn from. None of us are the same person we were even just a month ago. We are always growing, learning, making mistakes and recovering. The most beautiful thing about the human spirit is it’s capacity for adapting. We can and always will do better. Make no mistake about that!
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Adrien wouldn’t consider himself a citizen of any particular place. Sure, he has family and his family may hail from the unforgiving country of Levinkrantz, their touring circus leaves them nomads.
Having lived such an uncertain life on the road, Adrien is no stranger to theft and fleecing. He has to survive somehow and it’s a tough old world out there, mucker.
What makes Adrien different from the rest of the nefarious scoundrels in his tents is his vision of a better future for his family. Cheaters and swindlers isn’t exactly the legacy he was his circus to carry forward.
He firmly believed no one should leave his tents said – a little lighter in the pocket maybe? But not sad.
When war broke in Levinkrantz and bombs started to fall, Adrien gained perspective. Too many were having to break his golden rule, fleeing from the aggression. Kiddies could no longer enjoy his shows for fear of the soldiers on the streets as the dreaded Yugasov regime took over the country.
Adrien had a choice. He could find the advantage in such dire circumstances or he could help the audience he claimed to love so much.
He chose the latter.
Using his unique flair for performance and all the tricks he had up his sleeve, he rescued hundreds from the bomb blitzes, cementing himself as a notable hero in the resistance against the oppression.
Stoker Circus is filled with pickpockets, con tricks and back stabbers. Son of the Amazing Adrien, Val Stoker is offered an opportunity too good to miss and a lot of bunce. Trouble is, will his father’s legacy influence his choice or will the almighty coin?
*Caution: Contains scenes and themes some may find distressing
Angelique’s grandmother. A stern, older woman who is dedicated to her family. She has an air of aristocracy about her. She should speak in a French accent, but that’s not entirely necessary.
Ambrose (m):
Angelique’s older cousin and Madame’s grandson. A gruff-looking young man.
Carlos (m)
The coach of Angelique’s football team.
Location
A small hospital room.
Time
Takes place in an unknown time, but with some modern styling.
SETTING: A small hospital room
AT RISE:ANGELIQUE is seated, dressed in a hospital gown. There is a newborn baby in a cot next to her that she has recently given birth to. MADAME arrives, accompanied by AMBROSE. ANGELIQUE looks up and smiles as she sees them. MADAME takes a look at the baby.
MADAME
Let’s see her then!
[cooing over the child]
AMBROSE
How are you feeling?
ANGELIQUE
I’m tired. She’s here now though and doctors say she’s as healthy as they come. I’ve decided to name her Charmaine.
AMBROSE
After your mum? She would be pleased.
ANGELIQUE
[Calling to MADAME]
Grandma? They will let us go home soon. The doctor said they’ve never seen a healthier baby.
MADAME
[smiling at the infant]
She is precious.
AMBROSE
You’re still so young Angé. You’re going to have to take care of her. It’s a big responsibility. You’ve not finished school yet. Your football career could be over.
ANGELIQUE
[Shaking her head]
I’ll think of something.
AMBROSE
Start by telling me who the father is. I’ll make sure he plays his part. It’s his responsibility too.
ANGELIQUE
Just leave it.
AMBROSE
Who is he Angé? Some little dickhead in your class? Does he even know.
MADAME
[Chastising her grandson]
Enough! She needs to rest. As long as mother and baby are healthy that’s all that matters right now. Everything else, we’ll figure out.
AMBROSE
[Taking in the infant in the cot]
She’s a real bonny one.
[A knock signifies someone is joining them in the hospital room. Enter CARLOS – an older man dressed in a football coach outfit.]
CARLOS
I heard the new arrival made it safely.
AMBROSE
She’s still a bairn herself, coach. She’s got a tough road ahead of her.
CARLOS
At least she’s still young enough to have the energy to run after a kid.
AMBROSE
Just last year she was using that energy on the football pitch. Don’t get me wrong, we’re here to support her. It’s just, I don’t think she realises what she’s gotten herself into.
CARLOS
There’s plenty of time to worry about that.
MADAME
Would you like to see her?
CARLOS
[Taking a look at the infant. He shows his admiration.]
Beautiful. Just like her mum. I just stopped by to see if you needed anything. I still feel the need to look out for my best player.
AMBROSE
Once she’s recovered, do you think she can get back on the team again?
ANGELIQUE
I don’t want to.
AMBROSE
[Seeming to not hear his cousin’s protests.]
She was always one of the best. She lived for football and so was really close to going professional.
ANGELIQUE
I said I didn’t want to!
[The others take notice of her frustration. MADAME draws herself away from the baby.]
CARLOS
[Smiling a little awkwardly.]
We can discuss that later. You have other priorities right now.
MADAME
You need rest. Come Ambrose. We’ll find a doctor and see when she’ll be ready to go home.
[AMBROSE and MADAME exit. CARLOS lingers behind.]
CARLOS
You didn’t tell them then?
ANGELIQUE
I promised I wouldn’t.
CARLOS
Good girl. You know I’d get into a lot of trouble if anyone found out. More than that, it would ruin lives, including your own. You want to have a future, don’t you? Don’t have me ruin it for you. Don’t have everyone looking at you like you’re the team slut. You know you wanted it.
ANGELIQUE
I … It doesn’t matter. I just want to go home.
CARLOS
You have a baby to look after. If you just keep quiet and get on with it you could be back on the team. We were really rooting for you going pro. Just keep quiet and I can open a lot of doors for you.
ANGELIQUE
I don’t want to play anymore.
[AMBROSE returns looking a little rushed. He is smiling.]
AMBROSE
It’s good news. The doctor said she’s happy for you to go home now.
CARLOS
Isn’t that exciting. So it begins.
[He makes his way to take another look at the baby.]
ANGELIQUE
Leave her!
AMBROSE
[A little uneasy at his cousin’s outburst.]
Take it easy Angé.
CARLOS
She’s tired. She should get home and rest. It was nice seeing you folks.
[CARLOS exits. ANGELIQUE makes her way to the baby. AMBROSE watches intently after CARLOS]
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.
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.
Heather is a socialite. Her family own a fishing corporation. Both of her parents are deceased, so her trust is in the hands of her elder brother, Hugo. She has a younger brother, Fergie, whom she is close to. She feels trapped in her life as Hugo can be demanding and controlling.
[As though speaking to a friend.]
HEATHER
I swear it’s getting worse. It’s like being in a prison in that house. Every time I step inside the door he quizzes me on where I’ve been. Whenever I go anywhere he asks me who I’ll be with. He demands that I text him on the hour whenever I’m away from him. He checks my phone. He chooses how I am to dress. It’s disgusting. He says it’s because he’s my brother and he needs to look after me but it’s smothering. There’s nothing I can do about it. He controls our money, he controls what we eat and he is the one who tells us where to be and when. If he doesn’t like my friends he calls them and tells them to stay away from me. I’ve started gathering a bit of a reputation because of it. Noone wants to know. I can deal with that. That doesn’t bother me so much. What really frustrates me is the way he treats our little brother, Fergie. He should be enjoying his life right now and instead it’s all mapped out in front of him. I know Fergie is scared of him. I suppose I can be a bit too. Hugo can be a real monster sometimes. It can be difficult to tell what mood you’ll find him in. Just the other day he lashed out at Fergie. He beat him terribly. Even if he could fight back he wouldn’t. Hugo says he’s just trying to protect us and keep us together. Fergie and I already have a plan. As soon as we can gather enough money we’re going to get out of there. We’re going get as far away from him as possible. It’s not easy though. He’s still our brother. Hugo can be nasty. There are times when he can be so kind too. When he says he’s just doing what is necessary to keep us together I believe him. After our parents died he didn’t have to stick around. He could have gone anywhere. He chose to take care of us and we should be grateful for that I suppose. We should be thanking him every day he didn’t abandon us.
He’s not always possessive. There are times when he is so charming and loving. When we were younger Hugo was the best big brother. He hated to see either of us upset. He would always go out of his way to make us laugh. He doesn’t seem much like it these days but he does have a really great sense of humour. Whenever we were down he would say, ‘cheer up little ones,’ in such a kindly way it would always make us smile. Maybe I’ve just made it that way in my head. Reality can be quite different when you look at it from the outside. We’re grown ups now and he still calls us ‘little’. We thought it was sweet before. Now it just sounds patronising. We’re grown ups. We’re not little. Fergie’s seventeen now. Hugo will always see him as a baby. It’s how he sees both of us.
He makes me doubt myself. He makes me wonder if I am even capable of looking after myself. I’ve never held a real job. I’ve lived off my trust my whole life, at least what Hugo allows from it. I don’t know where I would even start. I could do it though. I know I could do it because Fergie would be relying on me. I could do it for my little brother. I’m the middle child so it seems only fitting I have to be strong for one brother against the other. It’s such a long road ahead. Someone once told me you will never get any further if you never take those first steps. I can do it. I know I can do it …
“Did you do it? Did ye curse Peter and send him to get the Devil’s bite?”
Congregate, Luke, was gasping. With Dominick’s hands around his neck his trachea was crushed. He was finding it difficult to breathe.
“Kill him, Uncle Dom,” Charlotte pressed from nearby.
Dominick squeezed Luke’s neck tighter.
“Did ye do it? Did ye curse us?”
The man was trying to plead but he was choking on his own words.
“Kill him,” Charlotte insisted.
“I’m trying, Charlotte. I’m trying.”
But Dominick didn’t have the will for any more at this point. Twenty congregates had already been brought before him to be put to the question. He kicked the man aside. He lay gasping in the sand.
Dominick took the iron cross from Bart.
“Your Eminence, please,” cried Barbara Tulloch.
The church leader was catching his breath.
“You!” he roared, pointing the cross at her. “Ya heathenous, syphillis riddled cunt. It was you! You came onto this island and you brought this on us.”
Barbara shook her head. Tears streamed down her face and her mouth parted but it was silent wails.
Clang!
Dominick knocked her to the ground.
“Fucking slut!”
He hit her with the iron cross again. Her skull cracked.
“Look what you did to them! Peter was a good man!”
He hit again on the back of her head.
Clang!
“Yer curse caused the death of an innocent little wean too! Slut!”
He hit her again and again until blood began to throw from the cross’s impact. He couldn’t stop hitting her until he fell back exhausted.
The broken pieces of her body spilled out onto the sand. He spat on her.
To Bart he called, “bring in the next one.”
***
It was confirmed. What Peter Millicent had said about Sergeant Major Doyle purchasing from Nan Harvester was true. Five young girls had stepped forward to give evidence and the monk, Jonah, had told all he knew. He had also discussed some young boys being groomed for something. It was like the Sergeant Major was recruiting them.
“This is going to crush Karyn,” Sophie had said to Golem.
Karyn Doyle did look up to her father. I guess it is difficult to know someone truly.
They climbed into the car. Golem held the door for his mistress. They intended to bring what they knew to the judge at her home. Sophie was busy thinking of how she was going to break it to her. She would want to pour through the testimony together. The sergeant major himself hadn’t been informed yet. As far as he was concerned over in Subala all was well. Karyn would want to make maneuvers personally. Her son lost and now her father all but gone too.
Sophie watched the headlights of the car flood the parking bay beneath the High Court. There were so few cars there that night. Most people had gone home already. She felt the rumble of the car as the ignition started. She felt Golem pat her hand. He knew she didn’t relish the task she had been given but the law was the law and Karyn would understand that. Sophie turned to her interpreter and smiled. Golem turned back to the view in front. The car rumbled forward a little but then it stopped suddenly. Golem seemed disrupted by something. Sophie tried to ask him what the delay was but he kept his focus on front. What Sophie hadn’t heard was the clanging footsteps. It wasn’t until the form of a man stepped into the light was she given any indication of the danger.
“Wait here,” said Golem.
The engine stopped. Golem climbed out of the car. Sophie raised her hand to her eyes to see if she could get a better look at what was going on. Golem’s own notable frame blocked most of the view.
The car shook as Golem fell against it. He was on his feet again and charged forward. Through the blaze of the headlights Sophie caught sight of a blade being swung.
She saw Golem’s face hit the windscreen. The head had been detached from the body.
Sophie hurriedly tried to climb into the driver’s seat. She fumbled with the ignition but her fingers were made shaky by the urgency of the situation.
Before she could set off, her door was hauled open. She tried to crawl away. The shrieks, the pleas, it was all so very silent as a hand clasped her foot and pulled her from the car. She tried to kick but her foot hit steel. It did no good. A commotion elsewhere must have distracted them because she felt the grip loosen. Before steel was wielded down on her she crawled out of the way, climbed onto her feet and dashed towards the exit.
***
“Eight … Nine … Ten …”
Reggie gasped as he made his tenth leg raise.
“Keep pushing,” Simon urged who was helping him through the therapy on his healing femur bone. “You can do it, a few more reps.”
Reggie grunted.
“I can’t.”
“You can. Come on. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.”
“It’s really fucking painful,” Reggie grunted.
“You’re getting strength back. I can see it. The work is paying off,” assured his brother. “Another couple. Fourteen… Fifteen…”
Reggie rested his leg down and stretched himself out on the mat on the floor of the Faulds penthouse lounge. Marcus joined them, just closing a call.
“The commissioner is on his way up. He says there’s someone he would like for us to meet.”
Reggie sat up. Simon reached his hand out and helped him to his feet. He hopped a little but he shook it off.
“Who?” Simon enquired.
“Theodore Owen.”
Simon found the very name aggravating. They all did.
“Owen! What the fuck is he bringing an Owen here for!?”
Marcus hid his frustration the best of the three.
“He’s been working with Franklin’s team. If he trusts him then we will hear what he has to say.”
“Owen?” Reggie protested. “Another fucking Owen?”
They didn’t have much time to debate over which type of Owen Theodore was likely to be. A creep like Jerry? A dickhead like The Cappy? A moron like Buddy or a helpful albeit morally absent one like Ronnie? Before the triplets could place bets the elevator sounded. They were met with Franklin first.
“I know a lot has gone down,” he said to them. “But we all want to improve things. I want you to meet Teddy because I believe he could be a great help in doing just that.”
“Very well, commissioner,” Marcus beckoned.
With that Franklin was joined by a tall man, with a warm expression. He was clutching a cattleman hat to his chest and looking about himself with some awe at the Faulds penthouse. What Marcus noticed first was the gun on his belt.
“Your weapon,” the king acknowledged.
Teddy took in the three triplets who were watching him with an identical mixed expression of bewilderment and frustration.
“I have this by my side but I’d much rather shake a man’s hand than draw arms.”
Simon scowled. “Yeah, well … hang on … Wait. What?”
He looked to his brothers to see if he had heard right. He must have because they were just as confused.
“Theodore,” Marcus greeted. “I trust your time in Coldford has been agreeable so far.”
“You can call me Teddy,” he offered in a cordial way that the triplets hadn’t seen in any of the Owens. “It’s a fine city.”
“Seriously? What the …?” Marcus could hear Simon grumble beside him.
Teddy went on.
“Franklin told me that the people here call you a king. That is a heavy responsibility. He also assures me that you take that responsibility very seriously. I can appreciate that, sir.”
“No fucking way,” Simon was still grumbling in shock. It was starting to amuse him.
Reggie decided to press a little.
“Where you from?”
“Star State.”
“What did you do there?”
“I had a ranch.”
“How did you get here?”
“I took a flight.”
Marcus glared at Reggie. The name Owen was still ringing in his ears but the need to accommodate a cordial guest was throwing everything into disarray.
“How are you related to Buddy?” Reggie asked.
“He’s my cousin.”
“How are you related to Billy?” Simon wanted to know.
“He’s my brother.”
The two couldn’t contain their amusement at how ridiculous that sounded. Marcus gripped their shoulders.
“Excuse us. Commissioner? Agent Owen? Do make yourselves comfortable.”
When he led his brothers into the kitchens, Simon and Reggie were in peals of laughter.
“Will you two show some decorum!” Marcus barked at them.
“Come on,” Simon chortled. “This is a piss take. Right? It has to be. There’s no way that guy is an Owen.”
“I might have bought it but … Billy the bawbag’s brother!?” Reggie put in.
This caused the two to start laughing heartily again.
Simon stuck out his chin and showed his teeth. “Billy,” he said. Then he pointed towards Teddy. “Brother to that guy?”
Marcus looked between them with a disapproving expression.
“They’ve sent an actor down. That guys an actor,” Simon went on.
Marcus would argue the idea that Owen Inc would hire an actor to act as a front for the family was ludicrous but it wasn’t so far-fetched. There was time when the Kappa So and the Loyalists were working on a community project together. The triplets had been preparing themselves all morning for some kind of altercation. Reginald had warned them to behave like gentlemen no matter how low the frat bros stooped. It was all moot. When the Kappa So arrived, Buddy wasn’t among them. There was a boy who was claiming to be Buddy though. He later went on to win prime time awards for his role in the March of our Times soap opera.
“Either that guy’s an actor or the Cappy dying has sent that lot right off their fucking nuts,” Simon suggested.
“Get yourselves together,” Marcus warned.
The three returned to their guests. Franklin was shaking his head with an exasperated smile at them.
Teddy addressed Reggie.
“I’m glad to see you’re faring well,” he said. “I was with the team that extracted you.”
“Yeah?” Reggie returned testily. “So was Billy.”
“He was there,” Franklin said. “I can confirm that.”
Marcus nodded.
“In that case,” he said, “I owe you a great debt of gratitude on behalf of the people here and on behalf of our family. On a personal note, thank you for bringing our brother home. You are most welcome here in Main.”
He reached his hand out. Teddy shook it warmly.
“Marcus Penn,” he introduced himself properly. “These are my brothers, Simon and Reginald Junior.”
Teddy shared a handshake with the other two triplets.
Reggie smiled.
“You can call me Reggie.”
“You want a beer?” Simon offered.
“I appreciate your hospitality,” Teddy replied warmly. “But I would like to take in some of the sights here whilst I have the time. There’s a lot of interesting history.”
“If you like the history head on up to the main thoroughfare. Albans has lots of old monuments,” Simon suggested.
“You can get cool photos there,” said Reggie.
“If you would like someone to help show you around, I can provide an escort,” was the king’s offer.
Teddy replied, “that would be appreciated, sir, but I have taken up enough of your time. I do have a map now so I should find my way about just fine.”
“You have to stop by Walden’s. Our friend there, Molly, she’ll make you welcome. I’m sure she’d love to meet you,” Simon told him.
Teddy did feel the need to address one issue.
“You’ll forgive my manners if I seemed out of sorts. I was a little confused.”
“You were confused?” the triplets asked in synchrony.
“When I was hearing about you from Buddy at first I was under the impression you gentlemen were conjoined.”
The triplets shared a look.
“At the genitals.”
Teddy and Franklin departed. The elevator was waiting in the hall. Franklin turned back and smiled at the triplets.
“The looks on your faces!” he jested.
The three had to agree. They were still perplexed. An agreeable Owen? Who knew?
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on anymore,” was Simon’s comment.
***
“A’body knows when you break your thigh bone your dick don’t work right after it,” William ‘Billy’ Owen was telling his cousin.
He had come to visit the three bros in recovery at Harbour House. He was not providing much comfort.
“My dick still works, bro!” Chad insisted.
“How do you know? You’re pissing in a bag.”
“Bud? My dick is gonna work right after this, isn’t it?”
Buddy was still trying to concentrate really hard on his own bodily functions. Billy had him convinced that if the catheter had been done wrong it would push the piss back and they would have to amputate.
“When they cut your dick off they use the skin to cover moles and shit,” said Billy as he flicked the chart. His expression changed. His brow wrinkled as he read the doctor’s notes. “Oh!” he gasped. “I’m real sorry fellas. I didn’t realize.”
Buddy and the bros gasped in synchrony.
“What? What is it Bill?” Buddy demanded.
Billy shook his head. “Oh sweet baby Jesus! It’s real bad.”
“Billy, what have they said? Is it cancer? We caught the cancer!” Buddy shrieked.
“No, it says here ya’lls cocks are so tiny it’s considered a fucking disability!” he threw the chart onto the bed and roared with laughter.
“Yeah Bill, real funny,” said Buddy. “Thanks for coming, by the way.”
Billy gave a satisfied sigh.
The truth was Billy was just trying to distract himself from the recent events. Buddy knew it was his way. Even in the toughest times he would always be an asshole.
The other elders arrived. Kathleen, Ozzy and Marshall looked stressed. Ronnie looked like he hadn’t slept the entire night.
“I know we’d all like to mourn Chick,” said the lawyer brother. “But there’s a lot to be getting on with and he’d hate for us to lose time. Buddy? It’s up to you to step up.”
“Can’t do much stepping right now, bro,” replied Buddy in reference to the beating he had received from Kim Adams. “But I got this shit. The Cappy would want me to. I’m King Cock now.”
Marshall scoffed at this term. It caused Ozzy to chuckle.
“The Cappy had given his word to the Stokers that Isaac Bergman would be returned home,” said Ronnie, waiting to see how Buddy would proceed.
“We don’t need no pussy ass Jew boy,” was Buddy’s wisdom.
“He also made it his wish that the Auction House be returned to the Penns. They are the ones with the connections that place requires. The Hen Owen compass was his real target anyway.”
“You can’t just give it back,” Marshall interjected. “It’s a prime spot in Main. We hold onto that we got them by the balls.”
“And the Auction House connections have already started to be difficult. They refuse to deal with it without a Penn at the podium. Buddy is going to be taking over for Chick. We won’t have time for a fight just to hold a goddamn empty hall. We got Marcus Penn out of prison because Chick had an agreement with the Knock Knock girl. If you don’t follow through with that she will kick up a mighty fuss too and we’re going to have real choppy waters in the coming weeks. I say it again until it all starts making sense to me. Buddy will be taking Chick’s place,” Ronnie reminded him. “Teddy has been in to see them as part of the Hickes agency too. It would be better for us to work together.”
Marshall was shaking his head as the others looked to Buddy for insight.
‘I can’t believe we’re listening to this dip shit,’ Marshall groaned inwardly.
“An auction house sounds boring as shit,” was Buddy’s assumption. “I don’t want to have to deal with a weird, dusty place full of old dudes where the triplets hide behind paintings, jump out scaring each other,” he said.
“You can’t be serious!” Marshall exclaimed. “You’ll give it back?”
All Buddy had really heard was it had been what The Cappy had wanted. Although, he did figure the running of an Auction House would be boring and the idea of the triplets leaping out from behind the paintings did weird him out.
“Without Chick people are going to see us as weak. They are going to smell blood,” said Ronnie. “It would be much easier having people like the Penns on our side. Charles always used to say that you had to be tactical.”
“King cock got your back, bro,” Buddy said.
“It’s gonna be real tough.”
***
The Auction House hadn’t fallen into disrepair, Jean Luc was pleased to see. It almost seemed like nothing had been touched since the last time Reginald Penn had been there. His footsteps tapped across the Auction House floor. He stirred with a cough behind him. Jean Luc turned to meet Marshall Cooper emerging from the main storage room. Marshall coughed heavily again with the dust.
He reached his hand out to shake that of the Penn associate but he coughed again.
“That dust here can really stick in your throat,” said Jean Luc. He observed Marshall’s beaten face.
“The Cappy wanted to return this place to its rightful owners. The boy, Buddy sent me to see it through,” said Marshall.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Jean Luc replied. “What is he looking for in return?”
Marshall shrugged. “A little fucking vacation. I don’t know,” he said testily.
“Then name your price for the Auction House,” Jean Luc pushed.
“The return of this Auction House is a sign of good faith from … King Cock,” Marshall groaned at Buddy’s title insistence, ‘muttering God fucking damnit’ under his breath. “Buddy doesn’t want to hold onto it because that just builds up paperwork and shit. Are we good?”
“I think that seems more than fair,” Jean Luc agreed.
Paperwork was confirmed and the finer details of the agreement were made. As they were leaving Jean Luc stopped.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah? What?” Marshall responded.
“What happened to your face? It seems you found yourself in quite the fight?”
Marshall’s lips tightened. “Welcome to fucking Coldford.”
***
“I’m on the steps of the High Court where Judge Karyn Doyle has given a statement on the use of Article 22. It is confirmed that the article will remain in place as the Office of Law Makers continue to quash crime in Coldford. I’m Sandra Wake of Coldford Daily news.”
“Never have I been so certain of its necessity,” Doyle had told the press. She was unrelenting. Even with a close personal friend almost succumbing to its barbarity she refused to remove it.
“How long do you expect the people of Coldford to live in this kind of fear?” I asked her.
“As long as it takes,” the Judge returned without pause.
There was a commotion at the back.
“Your Honour! Cried a Hathfield voice. “Your honour!”
I watched Dominick push through. Law Makers stepped in his way but Doyle urged them to halt.
Dominick dropped to his knees. He held his hands out.
“I come to hand myself over to ye,” he called.
I could see Sandra push her camera man to get a shot of him.
“By your laws I’m considered a murderer. I have prayed for guidance and that guidance has brought me here to suffer the consequences. Take me into your custody and punish me as your earthly laws see fit. I cannot be saved so here I am.”
Dominick was taken into Law Maker custody.
“Praise Wigan!” I heard voices call as he was taken away. It was difficult to determine where they were coming from.
The leader of the Church of St Wigan was taken into Law Maker holding. Trial would be swift if he was found wanting. Article 22, after all, was still in effect.
***
With a kind word from Howard Bergman, who spoke of my commitment to the truth, I was granted access to Dominick Cole. The church leader wasn’t quite as grand as he had seemed before. He had been stripped of his robes and now wore standard issue grey. His hair was messy with grease and the melanin streak through it looked like a crack across his skull. He appeared to be a little physically beaten too.
He watched me take a seat silently. He himself remained sat upon the floor. I didn’t urge any questions, Agent Reynolds, who, as a cult deprogrammer, had had a lot of dealings with the church in the past, advised me against it.
“I remember you,” he said finally. “Sam, isn’t it? Did ye find some faith or are you still Hell bound?”
“This is where faith gets you?” I put to him.
Dominick laughed a little but it was not in good spirits.
“I have no fear,” he stated.
“Why did you give yourself to custody?” I asked now that the dialogue had been opened.
“I was urged. Wigan asked me to make a sacrifice.”
“I think you snapped,” I said to him. “Everyone has their limits, even the so called faithful.”
He stretched his legs out and leaned against the wall, seated just below the window.
“Something had to be done,” he said.
“And this was it?” I asked.
Dominick smiled but in a frosty way in which he bore his teeth.
“What does it truly matter? I’m sure to you City Dwellers one more Wigan dead is one less to worry about.”
I stopped him. “If that’s how you believe we all think then you’re wrong. There are people over here who embraced your faith. Listen to them. You can hear them calling for you just outside this building. There were people who found comfort in your faith. You should know that. I might not be the follower of the same but if people can draw positive from faith then I would encourage it.”
“There was a time in my life when I thought like you. I don’t mean I was an atheist, I was never that, I mean I saw the joy that faith can bring. I saw it comfort the dying. I saw it heal the sick. I saw it hold whole communities of people together. When folks walk into a church they are overwhelmed. It’s more than a building. It’s a sanctuary. It’s a home and it’s worth fighting for to yer last breath.”
“Then why has it come to this?” I asked.
“Because ye fear for the people who don’t see the one true path. Ye try and show them and they return with brutality. They refuse to listen. You can’t allow that to happen because you are so worried for them. I begged them to realise their misdeeds and repent for them.”
“None of this needs to happen,” I said to him.
“That’s where you and I are different. I believe this is exactly what needs to happen.”
He climbed to his feet. I did likewise and took a step back from the table.
“It’s too late to repent now!” he yelled.
He grabbed my shoulders and held me so close I could see the spittle on his lower lip. I pushed him away from me.
“Take my life!” he cried. “Take it!”
Law Makers intervened and escorted him from the room. I departed the High Court in what I admit was a bit of a hurry. Dominick’s voice was still ringing in my ear.
Outside, Wigan followers had set up a vigil. They were singing. Their joyous tones chilled as they filled the night air.
Dominick, who could hear them from the window sat back down on the floor.
***
I didn’t make the habit of attending the executions brought about by Article 22. It was morbid, unnecessary and only stirred fear and concern further. But as a chilled evening fell the killing fields of City Face was the only place to be. As he was brought out I found the detestable presence of Sandra Wake squeeze in beside me. Her camera man was taking way more room than he needed to. She glared at me but I didn’t have the time for her nonsense. Dominick Cole, head of the Church of St Wigan was to be put to death that day.
“Do you have anything you wish to say before sentence is carried out?”
Here Dominick looked up. He looked a great deal thinner without his robes.
“It doesn’t matter what you do with me,” he said finally.
Sandra had indicated to her camera man to start recording.
“Let him through,” Franklin’s CPD could be heard calling. Agent John Reynolds approached.
“Agent Reynolds,” said Dominick with a smile. “Come to say goodbye?”
Reynolds shook his head.
“I’ve seen people lost over the years. I’ve been lost myself often. I’ve seen the worst of the worst, some real sick cats, turn to religion and better themselves. You’re going to die one way or another but what you do now can make a difference. Tell your followers to ease off. Give them some peace.”
Dominick pursed his lips as though he was going to say something but it was cut short.
“Dominick!” a woman screamed.
Sandra was patting her camera man’s arm. I too found myself aiming my phone in the same direction.
A woman had climbed out onto the clock of City Face as the time reached 6:15
“I love you Dominick!” she cried into the night.
She had completely stolen focus from the execution that was to take place.
“Tell her to stop,” Reynolds warned Dominick. “Get her down from there.”
“This is for you!” the woman cried.
There was a rope around her neck. No one could have stopped her. She leapt from the clock hands. She hadn’t tied the noose properly so when the rope yanked, the pressure of the fall decapitated her and her body fell onto the yard below.
“Move back!” CPD crowd control had set in.
Reynolds looked out to the crowd. He was familiar with the Church and how it functioned so when he observed the crowd and couldn’t see Bartholemew he asked, “where is Bart?”
It seemed unlikely he would be anywhere else but the execution of his church leader.
“Where is Bart?” he asked again. Dominick gave no answer.
***
As City Main descended into chaos with the execution of Dominick Cole a little further up the road another incident was transpiring. Reynolds had been correct in asking where Bartholemew was. The only way he wouldn’t be there to the end with his long time friend, his spiritual leader, would be if there was a greater task at hand. That great task weighed heavy in his arms. He carried the sword of the Templar to the gates. He laid it below a sign that read:
DALWAY LANE GALLERY.
He could see hundreds of serpents slither around the main yard. They flowed like the waves of the bay and they would carry him forward.
His mushroom trip seemed to have lasted ever since Leona had been taken to prison.
He unclipped the case. The blade inside flowed into his hands. It wasn’t heavy anymore. It was collected from him and the gate was opened.
***
“Move back!” we were ordered.
Sandra was pushed out of the way. Her camera man, who had been trying to get a shot of the dead girl’s body parts below City Face, was knocked back too.
Dominick was standing calmly among the chaos. Then I heard a child shriek. A woman was pouring water over a little girl. When I realised it wasn’t water she was pouring it was too late.
“Praise Wigan!” she cried pushing the girl forward, lighting a match and dropping it on top of her. The child erupted in flames. Screaming she instinctively charged forward taking the inferno with her. There were more screams as the flames spread.
Boom!
Make shift explosives detonated.
“Move back!” CPD were calling.
One of the children ran at the horses. He was trampled. Before the horse’s hooves stomped an explosion ripped into its leg, throwing its rider.
A man grabbed me. I looked into his terrified eyes. When I noticed he bore a Wigan pin I pushed him away from me. I heard Sandra scream. A blast had caught her leg. I reached out and pulled her to her feet as we tried to get away.
Still Dominick said nothing.
Boom!
Sandra’s camera man captured the footage of a CPD officer having to gun down two little girls who were skipping towards him. They were dazed, drugged and didn’t heed his warning.
“Make this stop!” Reynolds was demanding of the church leader.
With CPD scattered, trying to bring order, a Wigan seized the opportunity and ran at Reynolds. He wrapped his arms around him.
Boom!
The explosion tore into Reynolds side but luckily he managed to fend the man off in time.
Boom!
The entrance to City Hall had been breached.
Reynolds made a call. “Are you nearby?” he asked. “We need all the help we can get here.”
“Move back!” Franklin was coordinating his officers.
Distance was put between Reynolds and Dominick.
Boom!
Sandra and I were almost trampled by the crowd. We had come so close to being trampled by the horses. That was when we heard the distinctive noise of Kitty charging through.
Sandra’s camera man had been hit to the ground. She picked up the camera and shakily held it out to catch footage of the CPD reacting in aggression.
“Move back!” the crowd were warned once again. This time it was Agent Lowe who had given the request.
Reynolds made his way back through to Dominick. When he did push through the church leader was gone.
“Praise Wigan!”
***
“You’re going to love him,” David Finn was telling Tabitha. “He says Duh, that’s him trying to say David.”
Tabitha giggled at the thought of the child which David had acted as surrogate for coming to the Knock Knock Club for protection. David chuckled too. Tabtiha’s gap toothed grin made her seem so much more innocent than she was.
“He says no to everything,” David went on proudly. “He’s a great little kid. He’s my little besto.”
“He’ll get plenty attention around here,” Tawny assured. “The girls always love when a wee baba comes around.”
David looked at the clock. 6:15.
“I thought they would be out of Main by now. That church lunatic is done for.”
Given the attention his controversial Wigan painting had garnered David had watched some footage someone had taken of Dominick over on the bay. There were hundreds of them all sat on the beach listening to him as he spoke passionately of Hellfire, gesturing enthusiastically. His congregates were whooping and cheering as though welcoming the deaths of all City Dwellers. David could still hear the Hathfield voice as he tried to sleep.
“Repent!” he could hear him scream.
He had asked Tawny several times of her experiences with him. All she could tell was what she knew of him as a boy. The Wigan faith was a difficult subject to approach given what had happened to Vincent, Agnes and to herself. He was glad Harper and Gabby had agreed to send Elliot to the club. They would join them too after they had wrapped up everything they had to at the Auction House.
There was shouting from Clifton Alley. Tabitha stirred first to check on it.
“What the fuck is going on?”
The commotion cleared as quickly as it had arisen.
“Boxes,” David could hear someone call.
“What’s going on?” he asked again.
“Wigan bless you.”
“What the fuck?” David asked.
He was on his feet.
“Davey, wait!” Tawny tried to pull him back, hoping to stop him rushing outside.
He managed to pull away from her.
Out in Clifton Alley two boxes had been delivered.
Some had chased off the Wigan messengers but it was no use. They were gone before they could catch up. David Finn’s interests were on the boxes. They had, after all, his name on them.
“They’re mine,” David cried. “They’re for me.”
“David, come back inside,” Tabitha called from the entrance.
David shook her off and opened the first box. Inside was the head of Gabrielle Dalway. The sweet, patient Gabrielle who had stood by him throughout his addiction. The pleasant natured girl who had cried the night David agreed to be surrogate so she and her partner could have the child they always wanted. She who had lovingly carried Elliot to term.
David shrieked.
“Davey,” Tawny was now calling. “Come inside.”
He had to open the second one. In there was the loving but stern Harper. She had been the first person to tell him he had a problem with drugs. She had been the one to carry him into the hospital the night it looked as though he had been overdosing. She had told him he was stupid. She had banned him from her gallery but she had still sat by his bedside that whole night. She loved him and she was damn near the first person who ever did. David always regretted he could never repay her for kicking him into line but he could give her a baby to raise.
“Great mothers,” David despaired. “They were the best mothers. Elliot was so lucky to have so much love around him. Where’s Elliot!?”
Elliot was David’s son. The artist was all the little boy had in the world
“Where’s Elliot!?” David cried.
By now he was being pulled away from the grisly scene in the alley.
***
“This way, Your Eminence!”
Dominick had led through the labyrinth of Coldford City, through the Chamberlain section of North Coldridge and down to Swantin. By the time they reached the docks where Ravensedge was waiting he felt sick.
He clasped the face of the Wigan girl who had led him. He pressed his forehead against hers.
“Wigan bless ye,” he said
On board Charlotte came to him. She wrapped her arms around him.
“I’m alright,” he assured.
The ship departed for the bay promptly with CPD in pursuit to close it off.
“Dom!” Bart found them as the shore was ripped away from behind them.
“Are ye hurt?” he asked.
“No.”
The reply didn’t come from Dominick. It came from the little boy who was rushing towards him.
“No!” he said with a laugh.
“No?” Dominick grinned, lifting little Elliot into his arms.
“You’re a handsome little fella,” he commented. “My name’s Dominick. Can ye say Dom?”
“Duh!” Elliot replied.
“Close enough,” Dominick decided, not realising the child was asking for David.
“Are ye looking forward to a day on the beach?”
“No.”
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The travel from City Main to Swantin had been a quiet one. Leona had expected it to be distressing for Reggie to leave his brothers behind, especially when they had just gotten back together after such an ordeal. They were grieving for their parents in their City Dweller way. Reggie had packed one his mother’s necklaces. On it was a pendant with three diamonds. Reginald had bought it for her when she gave birth to the triplets. He had said at the time there was no gift he could give that would ever match that which she had given him in his sons. Reggie planned to give it to his own child when they were old enough. He had also packed a hip flask. It originally belonged to his grandfather Renaud. Renaud Penn had carried it with him as a young man through the second Great War. With the letter R embossed on it it had been given to Reginald, naturally it fell then to Reggie. He had a picture of he and his brothers too. He stored many of them on his phone but it was likely the device would be taken from him when they reached the commune. Leona didn’t fret about any of that. He would be welcomed over on the island. He would find family there. In the days ahead such trinkets wouldn’t mean anything anymore.
“How are you feeling?” Leona asked him as they seated at the docks, waiting for the ferry.
“Marcus and Simon are going to be pissed.” He reflected on the brief note he had left them with a promise to call as soon as he had settled.
“If they want what’s best for ye they’ll accept it. If they don’t? You don’t need that in your life. We’re going to be so happy.”
Reggie nodded although he wasn’t sure he agreed. It was difficult to see a future without his triplets. He could come back and visit them he supposed and bring the child with him. They would be spoiled by their uncles. Marcus could seem cold but the niece or nephew would surely draw the warmth from him the way mother always did. Simon was good with kids. The Albans preschoolers always loved when he paid them a visit. They would laugh merrily as he leaped around with them, shadow boxing and carrying them around. He would dote on the baby.
When little Toby on the fourth floor of Faulds was born Rita made such a fuss over him. Marcus held him in his arms rocking him gently as Rita chatted to the new mother. Toby didn’t sleep. He did settle though. He kept staring at Marcus, then to Simon and then to Reggie confused by the identical faces. Maybe that was how Reggie’s own kid would react when they realised their dad was a triplet.
He was romanticising a lot in his head. The truth was when behind the walls Reggie would find it difficult to leave the commune. It would become his only refuge. In time he would forget he even was a triplet.
“All aboard the 6:15 to Hathfield Bay! All aboard!” Called the Ferry Master.
Reggie shuddered. Leona could see his resolve weaken. She clutched his hand. She just had to get him to the bay. Dominick would talk to him there. It would be much easier for him under His Eminence’s influence. As they stood Reggie started to feel a little dizzy.
“Are you okay?” Asked the wife.
Reggie tried to answer but he couldn’t speak. His chest had tightened. He had to sit back down again. He stumbled as he did so. He had been having these kind of episodes ever since mother had been killed. If he had seen a doctor the seizures brought about by panic attacks would have been treated. As it were the seizures were crashing over him in larger waves each time. Leona tried to pull him onto his feet again. She had to get him onto that ferry.
“All aboard the 6:15 to Hathfield bay!”
Reggie struggled to get onto his feet even with Leona pulling him. She became a little frantic. Luckily few noticed as the crowd poured towards the ferry entrance.
“Get up Reggie. Get up!” She was crying. “We’ll just get you on the boat and you’ll be fine. I’m taking you home.”
Reggie still couldn’t stand. His legs were weakened. The wave of the seizure had reached its peak.
“I’ll get some water,” Leona decided. “You rest. I’ll get some water and we can get get on the ferry.”
She departed. He watched her be swallowed up in the crowd of boarding passengers. He started to breathe a little easier. He regained some strength again but not enough to call her back. He tried to climb to his feet again but stumbled. Someone clutched his arm. He assumed one of the other passengers had taken pity on him.
“Take a breath, Reg,” he was instructed.
Through his blurring vision he could see he was being helped by himself. That didn’t make sense. He couldn’t help himself. When had they cut off his hair?
It was Simon who rested him on the bench.
“All aboard! Last call!”
“I have to go,” Reggie managed to mutter.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Simon told him.
Marcus was with him too.
“You can’t stop me,” Reggie responded testily.
“You can’t go,” Simon insisted. “We’ve lost mother. We’ve lost dad. Don’t have us lose you too.”
“I have to go. The ferry is boarding,” said Reggie.
“Reg,” Simon went on. “Don’t do this.”
“It’s alright,” said a man who accompanied them.
Reggie felt like he was going to be sick but his mind was clearing a little. He took in the man the triplets had brought with them. He was kind seeming with compassion natural in his expression.
“Life has been a real bummer lately,” he said. “Your brothers are here to tell you that it’s going to get better but you need to see a doctor.”
“My wife,” Reggie groaned, looking for Leona.
“You’re going to kill yourself, Reg,” Simon snapped. “You need to see a doctor. Come home!”
Reggie scowled. He tried to stand again and managed a few steps.
“You can’t stop me.”
It was the soft spoken, sympathetic man that held him back.
“Your brothers are just asking you to take a little step at a time. They just want you to see a doctor. Getting their A OK will make them feel better and then you can head off.”
“Who are you?” Reggie asked.
“John Reynolds,” he replied.
“He knows all about the Wigan Church,” said Marcus. “He has had dealings with these things.”
Taking cue from Marcus’ softer tone Simon added, “he knows his stuff. Just talk to him for a few minutes.”
Reynolds allowed the intervention words they discussed to flow.
Simon had been keen on jumping in heavy handed but cult deprogrammer, John Reynolds, had told him this would only push his brother away. Reynolds was familiar with Simon’s gun ho attitude when it came to those closest to him. It was after all an assault on Reynolds that granted him time within The Boss’s keep. Simon had been surprised to say the least when Reynolds came to visit him.
“Your brother is in trouble,” he had said. “I’ve worked with cults for years. The Church of Wigan is a big one. They are a real rad bunch of cats. They are around your brother and he will be pulled in. He needs someone by his side he can trust. I’ve spoken to the Office of Lawmakers about dropping the assault charges so you can get out of here and be with him.
“Why would you do that?” Simon wanted to know. “You could just sit back and say good riddance.”
“I have no hang ups. I do know Main needs you,” Reynolds told him.
Simon managed a smile too. He didn’t want to let himself get too caught up in the idea of getting out. Within the walls of The Boss, having hope was a fool’s game.
“I’m sorry,” Simon said. “It would be different if you were coming in here acting like a dickhead but you seem like a decent guy. We were all caught a little off guard when you came into the club. The last time people forced themselves in there it was shot up and burned out.”
“Have you ever had a pet go wild?” Asked the agent.
Simon indicated the negatory.
“Say you have a cat. This cat shows affection. It will lie on you, absorbing your warmth but it has claws. If it tears at you you have to cage it until it calms down. Can you dig it?”
“Are you saying I’m a pussy?” Simon asked in jest.
Reynolds chortled.
“I’m saying …”
“Yeah, I know,” Simon stopped him. “I just want what’s best for my family and for Main.”
“Then we’re on the same side,” Reynolds assured.
Simon reached his hand out.
“Thank you, Agent Reynolds,” said he.
Reynolds shook his hand.
He kept his word and Simon was freed shortly after this exchange. Still keeping to his word he had agreed to help separate Reggie from the Wigan Church.
“Just speak to a doctor,” Marcus requested at the dockside. “That’s all we ask.”
Rule number 16 of a cult deprogrammer: it takes many steps to open the eyes of a victim. First he would speak to a doctor. Then the treatment would begin. Just a little more help. Just a little more support. When the time was right the connection to the cult would be completely severed. That was when the greatest friction would occur. The victim would start to resist. The cult leader would have them believe their family and friends were working against them, especially if an emotional trigger was thrown in – like an unborn child for instance.
It would take time. Reynolds warned Simon of this but if he accepted his advice Reggie truly could be saved.
Meanwhile, Leona, had pushed her way through to a small snack stand on the docks. She snatched up the bottle of water she requested. She turned and bumped into a man.
“Sorry,” she said, naturally, but she was really still in a rush.
“Leona Riggs?” The man asked.
“Do I know you?” She returned.
“Franklin Rhodes,” he said. “I’m arresting you on suspicion of drug trafficking.”
Over on the bay, Dominick received an official annulment of the marriage between Leona and Reggie.
***
“What … in the seven circles … of Holy Hell … Is this?” Chick Owen had barked at his son.
“Lydia!” Buddy screamed on Agent Lowe.
The Cappy hadn’t forgotten about the bros treatment of the family heirloom. Hen Owen’s telescope now a golden cock had caused him to see red deeper than he ever had before. After Seth Bergman had handed it back it was Kim who got there first. She had good instincts so she grabbed Buddy, knowing him to be the cause of any commotion.
“You, boy,” Chick pointed his fingers at him. “You’ve been served your discharge papers and I suggest you get out of my sight until I decide what is to be done with you.” To Agent Kim he said, “I apologise ma’am but my temper has been so provoked it might be best this boy is taken from my sight.”
“Move,” Kim barked and pushed Buddy away.
“The Bergmans are trying to stir trouble, mate,” said Ozzy.
The Cappy replied, “they trouble me none. It’s time I deal with problems closer to home.”
He lifted the asset.
“To cap it all off we need to walk out with this. That snot nosed little shit didn’t leave the bag he brought it in.”
***
The bros didn’t stay out of Harbour House long. The Cappy finally made his judgement on what to do. He had decided on Seven minutes in heaven. This was an old Kappa So code that called when a brother was judged to have stepped out of line. It came with a severe beating from a chosen brother with the intention of leaving the mark unconscious for seven minutes. The last time such an action was taken in the Chapter House it was Jerry Owen. The chosen brother had been Chick and he managed his seven minutes as the name suggested. In the case of the bros, Kim Adams had stepped up with Doyle’s permission.
“I can’t believe this,” Buddy was saying nervously to Lydia.
“You surely couldn’t have expected anything less.”
“Can it just be you?” Buddy plead. “Can you do it?”
Lydia shook her head. “Do you think I would be any different?”
“Right we’re set up.”
Kim was taping her hands and stretching her neck. Curiosity had drawn Chloe in too. She stood beside the Kappa elders.
“We’re going to get through this,” Buddy had encouraged his bros.
“That’s great bro, but do you think we could skip the part where she completely annihilates us?” Coops tried.
Chad had tried for the first hit but Kim punched his knuckle. He fell back.
Wham! Wham! Two quick successive punches had Cooper floored.
Chad was now skipping backwards. Kim snatched him up by the hair and launched him forward. Cooper was just starting to correct himself. Feeling a little dizzy he stumbled. His nose had been burst open.
“Dad!” he tried to call out to Marshall, feeling a little dazed.
“Fight back you little pussy,” Marshall hissed.
Wham! Kim punched him again. He fell against the wall.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
More quick successive punches caused the body to fall limp. Chloe squealed as she watched Coops try to clamber to his feet.
“Oh no!” she said. Her sympathy fell with him.
Buddy tried to pull Kim away from Coops but she upper cut his chin and followed it with a quick jab to the face.
Wham! Kim turned. Wham! She sent Chad to ground again. He lay still.
“Check up on Chad,” Lydia called
Kim stormed across and snatched Chad by the testicles and heaved him across the floor.
“Ahhhh!” she screamed.
“Check up on Buddy!” Lydia called.
Buddy found new life.
“I’m up! I’m up!” he yelled.
Every broken bone they sustained, every bruise they bore and every drop of blood that was shed was exactly what a past blowing up in your face looks like.
***
Steven Renfield had been active within the church ever since he was a boy. He served the altar, he sang in the sermons and when the time came he joined the clergy. When Dominick Cole was granted his place at head of the church his first course of action had been to burn the priests guilty of corruption within the fold. St Wigan’s embrace was open for all sinners, therefore it figures it was open for ambitious fiends like Renfield.
He was head of the Northside parish but he wanted more. He had a generous church fund but that wasn’t enough either. As a boy he would read from Noah Wigan’s writings. He especially enjoyed it when the infamous holy man would talk of the great men who joined him like St Michael the Punisher. There was always awe when St Michael was spoken of. That was what Renfield wanted. Only that kind of awe would satisfy. St Michael burned, beheaded and crushed those who would disobey the teachings of Wigan. Noah Wigan had been accepting of sinners. It was Michael’s job to put them to the slaughter. He was called upon to send them to God for their true punishment.
The three pillars of the Wigan church reflected the true nature and fullness of the human experience. On Wigan’s left hand stood Bartholemew the carrier. With shoulders broad and a determination made of steel, he helped carry the fallen to the salvation Wigan held in his hand. Any father had to discipline their children. The fatherly figure of Wigan sometimes had to show his people the way with fire and fury. With sword in hand Michael the punisher delivered. Renfield was no St Michael. Renfield wasn’t put off though. He would deliver that fiery justice and the church would be in awe.
The so called Whiskey Wars between Northside and Bellfield was a blood thirsty affair. In his great wisdom Renfield was providing guidance to his parish. The Bellfield blood that was spilled was well received he assured his flock. He was speaking on behalf of St Michael.
They cheered. The crowd was in awe. He wanted more and more.
Agnes Wilde had been assisting in the area. With the loss of the Mack family – or at least most of them – the people of Bellfield were ripe for the taking. As the fighting continued schools became too dangerous and the children had to be taught in basements and behind false walls. Agnes had been bringing supplies to such a set up. Her brother – Professor Henry Wilde – had given her text books. He had implored her to leave the supplies and return to The Shanties. He had wanted her to come to Filton but she wouldn’t abandon the Knock Knock club, not with Tawny and Tabitha there. Returning to The Shanties was the compromise they had reached.
One of the Northside sweeps – an infamous practice of breaking and entering Bellfield homes in the name of the Northside constabulary policing the area. The captain leading the raid had recognised Agnes. What a fine spoil of war she had been. She was taken into custody and delivered to Father Renfield.
St Michael burned his sinners. Renfield did the same to Agnes. She was murdered as many looked on. They were screaming for her end and it had been a painful one, entirely undeserving.
Making a name in the Shady City was the intention. It certainly did that. There was talk of it everywhere. What Renfield hadn’t read in his religious texts was the people of Coldford City would respond to such actions and it wouldn’t be in fear. He turned to Dominick for the support of the church. His Eminence refused him. The response to the fiery fury that engulfed Agnes would be with more fire. When the Whiskey Wars were brought to an end Renfield was abandoned. Even his faith had escaped him. He found himself captured, held inside coarse brick walls.
There was a girl there. She was watching him closely.
“Hello, cunt,” she said.
Tabitha glared at him. She was smiling but she was obviously furious. The tie wraps that held him to the chair ripped into his skin as he tried to struggle.
“Did it hurt?” she asked him.
He had been beaten already. Maybe that was what she referred to.
“Did what hurt?” he found himself wanting to clarify.
The Boss Lady laughed, finding his predicament quite amusing.
“When you cook someone alive it’s bound to hurt,” said she with a snarl.
Renfield was taken aback by the anger although given the circumstances he shouldn’t have expected anything less. It was striking though because she appeared so youthful. She struck him as a little girl with a real nasty appetite. His assumptions wouldn’t be entirely wrong.
“The woman you burned was my aunt. She was a good woman. I want to know, did it hurt?”
Renfield stammered.
“A temporary pain. She was cleansed. Wigan embraces sinners but to be welcomed into the kingdom of God she had to be cleansed of her sins.”
“And what were her sins?”
“She was aiding heathen gypsies.”
“By doing what?” Tabitha pressed. She was stood watching him with her hands on her hips. “Helping little kids stay safe whilst they learn their ABCs and 123s? That seems like a Holy thing to do. My grandma was a Wigan. Maybe you remember her, Delores McInney.”
Renfield’s pupils dilated. He did recognise the name. This made Tabitha smile.
“That’s right,” Tabitha went on, a little giddy at the reaction. “She did all that praying bull. She told me people couldn’t be saved. She read from Wigan’s books a lot. She was a real cunt about it. One thing she did do though was she gave whatever money she could to help others. That was something my Aunt Agnes had in common with her. Which makes me wonder why your church funds in Northside were all gathered up as you tried to slip away. I’m sure that’s something your head cunt Dominick Cole would like to know. One time I asked my grandma, ‘do you really believe Wigan gets to decide who is punished?’ She looked me straight in the eye and she said, ‘Wigan was put on this earth to embrace us. We cannot be saved but we can be redeemed.’”
I asked her what she thought should happen to anyone who presumed to do Wigan’s work for him. She said, ‘Tabitha, if someone uses Wigan’s name for their own gains they will be punished. They should be cut and bathed in the salt waters. Every inch of their flesh will burn for an eternity.’ I did think at the time, ‘that’s a bit much but she was one of you Wigan lunatics so she always said shit like that. It got me thinking though, would St Wigan have condemned a decent woman like my Aunt Agnes for protecting children? The Northside constabulary had burned the schools and nurseries. Where else were they supposed to go? I think my aunt and my grandma would agree that’s bullshit.”
Reflecting on Delores McInney, Renfield couldn’t argue with that. She was dedicated to her faith. She respected His Eminence because of his dedication. To her Dominick was an enlightened, faithful man – albeit overzealous at times.
Delores was a true faithful. She believed they all could be redeemed, even her unstable granddaughter. The burning of Agnes would not have gone down well with her.
“Don’t hurt me,” he cried. “Please! I beg you.”
Tabitha gave a snorting laugh at first but she composed herself.
“Pray to Wigan for his embrace, cunt. You’re going to be shackled so tightly it will severe your limbs eventually. You will burn for ever and you will live the rest of your days under the whip of monsters much worse than you. You will drown in a sea of misery and you will never catch your breath.”
Renfield started to cry out. His pleading bounced against the walls of the Knock Knock club. Tabitha savoured the sound until he was eventually picked up. Murder in the first degree. Inciting violence. Stephen Renfield, you are now in servitude to The Boss.
***
“They’re burning my paintings. Especially the ones that feature Julia,” David Finn was explaining to Harper Lane.
“I’ve seen that. CPD are everywhere. We’ve had to close the gallery until they get the streets cleared.”
“How’s my little besto?” David asked of Elliot.
“He’s fine,” Harper replied. “He has no idea what’s going on.”
“We are the children of Wigan and we know we can’t relent …”
The chanting outside the gallery had been so loud David could hear it over the phone.
“Harper, just take Elliot home,” David advised. His voice sounded a little shaky.
Harper refused. “CPD are moving them on. It’s fine. I have too much to do. I still have to get the paperwork in for the auction.”
“No,” David objected. “You can’t go ahead with that. Not with the way things are right now.”
“They are just religious nuts,” Harper assured. “CPD are on it and Jean Luc at the Auction House is still willing.”
“Just be careful.”
“I will,” Harper assured. “Do you want to say hello to the little one.”
David smiled, briefly forgetting his trepidation. “Sure.”
The Au Pair was signalled. She carried Elliot across to the phone at Harper’s request.
“Hey little man,” David said.
“Duh!” Elliot sounded pleased.
“You be good. I’ll see you soon.”
When Harper returned, she said, “I got to go, Davey. I’ll see you tomorrow at the auction.”
***
The day of the auction of the Finn painting arrived. Elizabeth Beckingridge had decided she wanted in on the action, especially when she learned The Cappy had shown an interest. She would be bidding from afar being back under house arrest. Presley Cage would bid on her behalf.
Around me were the most mismatched collection of people ever to be found in the Shady City. There was Chick Owen, as I’ve already noted. He was accompanied by his brother Ronnie. Howard Bergman had brought Seth. They both acknowledged me with a smile and a nod. Tawny was there too, accompanied by David Finn. By special Law Maker arrangement Tabitha had made her presence felt. She claimed as one of the artists she had to be there. CPD had surrounded the area and were watching the situation very carefully.
Given the location, the triplets were also there. Tabitha had been hugging Reggie when CPD officers moved her back, still wishing to keep a distance between the two. Tawny intervened before Tabitha began to behave very much like herself again towards the officers. I was glad to see this. Hopefully it meant she would maintain her distance from me.
This evening – one which still remains quite cemented in my memory – Jean Luc Penn would be the acting auctioneer. It was the first time I had actually laid eyes on the Finn painting. It was beautiful in a shocking, car wreck kind of way. I could see Tabitha admire it.
“We made a great picture,” she was saying with an arm around David. “I wonder how much we’ll get.”
“I like the colours,” said Tawny. “Really eye catching.”
“I chose those colours,” said Tabitha proudly.
“Yes Liz,” Presley was saying on the phone as Elizabeth kept ranting about being confined to her manor. “Maybe if you …” he tried to say. “You know if you just …”
I approached Howard. He shook my hand.
“Good to see you again, Sam,” he said cordially.
“Interested in the painting then?” I asked.
“Elsa insists. She wants it for her lounge,” he laughed.
Seth rolled his eyes.
“For our next piece I think we should have me on a horse or something, ” Tabitha was offering her artistic vision.
David was counting the CPD officers. He couldn’t shake the nerves. Harper and Gabrielle were moving around, keeping busy. Tabitha’s voice began to break into his thoughts.
“Huh?” he asked. “Oh yeah, yeah, a horse,” he agreed
Tabitha pouted. “Pay attention David,” she warned.
“Oh no,” said Tawny. “Here comes trouble.”
Arriving at the auction were two Wigans. One, the Wigan girl we know as River. The other, was His Eminence himself. The CPD officers had stopped them.
“This painting is important to my church,” Dominick explained. “I’m just wanting to take a gander at what all the fuss is about and maybe buy it up for myself.”
CPD couldn’t argue with that. It was after all a public auction. David started to count the CPD officers all over again, just incase there were a few he had missed.
Tawny, being Tawny, decided to address the elephant in the room and greet her fellow baysider.
“Dom Cole,” she said. “It’s been a long time. How are ye?”
The Baroness was familiar with Dominick. They went a long way back as it happened. There were times when she had even babysat the little church leader. It didn’t last long though. Dominick’s father had decided her lifestyle wasn’t much of a good influence for the upcoming leader of the commune.
“Tawny,” he returned. “You’re looking … well.”
“What brings you over here?” she asked, pleasantly enough but genuinely wanting to know.
Dominick’s eyes lifted to the painting. “Bab’s Tulloch’s Holy tits apparently,” he replied. “I heard ye suffered a loss of late. I know what that’s like. My condolences. You should know what happened to Agnes was not my will or Wigan’s.”
River had reached out and clasp Tawny’s hand in a consoling sort of way but Tabitha slapped it away.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” she snarled.
Tawny put her arm around her niece and pulled her closer to her before CPD interest was caught.
“No trouble here from me,” Dominick assured. “I’d just like to give my compliments to the artist. It’s striking work. It really is.”
Dominick looked across to David. His bleached hair and unkempt appearance offered no mystery as to who the artist was.
“I’m the artist,” Tabitha said. “I’ll take your compliments.”
With a tentative air, the auction commenced. Marcus gave a nod to Jean Luc.
“I’ll open the bid at £100,000.”
“Fucking Hell!” David could be heard exclaiming.
“100,000,” was the bid from Liz Beckingridge.
150,000 from Howard Bergman.
“Seriously, dad?” Seth put to him. “We’re going to hang that up?”
“It’s art Seth,” Howard reasoned.
200,000 from Chick Owen.
“It’s a piece of history there Ron,” Chick was gaily in his explanation to his brother.
I couldn’t help but notice Dominick didn’t raise any bid or even make an attempt to. It hadn’t seemed to escape Marcus’ notice either.
225,000 from Howard Bergman.
“I promise I’ll not ask for anything for the next five birthdays, Elsa had insisted.
“That painting is mine,” said Chick.
Ronnie had never known his brother to lose when he was so determined.
Dominick was scanning the room and gauging the interest. CPD were watching him closely. He didn’t give them any fuss.
350,000 had been Elizabeth’s call. “Presley, make sure my bid is registered.”
I had been too busy watching the church’s vacant reaction after having kicked up such a fuss over the art piece.
400,000 from Chick Owen.
For a moment it looked like Dominick was going to make a bid but he shook his head and appeared to have changed his mind. He said something to the girl that accompanied him. She giggled.
500,000. Now Elizabeth was becoming excited.
550,000 came from Chick Owen.
Sold!
Chick Owen had won the day. Dominick didn‘t seem disappointed.
“I don’t want anything transpiring here,” Franklin put the call in. “The auction is over. If you do not return to St Michael’s or to the bay you will be in breach of your sanctions Mr Cole.”
Dominick turned. He was face to face with a broad chest of a man at first. He looked up and Golem was giving him his stoney stare of warning. Sophie Bergman was stood beside him.
Dominick raised his hands. “I’ve seen all I need to,” he said.
As he was leaving he called back, “enjoy the painting ya bunch a heathen bastards!”
The could hear the cheers of his followers erupt as he stepped onto the streets.
“Praise Wigan!” the cried.
“I thought they were keen to get it back?” David said naively to Harper.
It would seem that they had no intentions on bidding for it. It was sacrilegious trash. Whomever would entertain such filth should be punished. You cannot be saved.
***
Chamberlain House on Hathfield was hearing the sound of rushing feet. Charlotte was running down the corridor. She hid from view as a man came after her.
“I know yer in here,” said Dominick. “I seen ye make yer way. I will get ye one way or another.”
With Peter having taken Francis to his tutor in Kingsgate, Charlotte was alone with her uncle. She emerged from the shadows and leapt onto his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Are you sure about that?” she hissed.
Dominick dropped to his knees and onto the ground.
“Alright,” he admitted, lying out on the ground. “Ye got me.”
Charlotte stood over him. “Here lies my beloved Uncle Dominick,” she said. “Gone too soon.”
Dominick had closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.
“He’ll be fondly remembered,” Charlotte went on. “Even though he only had one nostril.”
Dominck’s brow furrowed but he kept his eyes closed.
“It was amazing how high he could jump, even though he was only two foot tall.”
Dominick’s eyes flickered. His lips curled a little but he lay still.
“What we will look back on the most is the great thick unibrow he had.”
“Gah!” Dominick sat up.
Charlotte erupted in a shriek of laughter.
“Dom?” called the familiar voice of Bart.
“We’re in here, Bart,” Dominick returned getting up off the floor.
Bartholemew carried in a box. His eyes were still a little large from a mushroom trip. On the side of the box was the Harvester logo. The finest meat in the Shady City.
“A parcel sent to the commune,” the carrier explained.
Dominick spied the logo. “Did it come straight from the farm?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Bart admitted.
Dominick opened the box. Inside were fresh meat packets. The first appeared to be a flank cut. He dropped it on the floor. The second looked like tenderloin. He dropped that to the floor too. The next was thin. It was the cheek of a man. Dominick could still see a razor burn on it. There was a bite mark there too. Then there was a foot and a hand. There was a smaller foot. Charlotte lifted out the skin from the face of little Lord Francis.
At the bottom of the box lay a letter and Peter Millicent’s beads.
The letter read:
I want you to know I cried last night. You upset me. I cried because you hurt someone close to me. I had a teacher. He was the best teacher in the whole wide world. Yes he was! He helped me hear the sounds of the world. One day he was there and I could visit him any time I liked and then he was gone. You took him away from me. He was mine and you took him. I want you to enjoy your teacher. I want you eat every little bit. You took my teacher and made me cry. He was mine. He was so!
I can never see my teacher again and that’s your fault. I’m so angry right now. You did it. You made me angry.
Eat your teacher. Cook him well. Enjoy him. I’m going to make you cry. I will. I will so!
Wigan isn’t going to want them. Their severed heads sucked cock. You made me cry! I hate you!
I’m not crying anymore. I’m laughing. I’m laughing so hard my belly hurts.
George Beckingridge
Dominick dropped the letter. Charlotte was still holding the flesh of her brother’s face. Dominick said nothing.
“Dom?” Bart tried to urge gently.
Still the church leader said nothing. It was like he had fallen into some kind of feverish shock. Finally, he stirred and stormed from the room.
“Dominick?” Bartholemew cried after him. “Where are you going?”
***
Buddy Owen’s eyes opened. He was feeling a little drowsy after the beating but he could swear his dad was sat watching him.
“Mornin’ Bud,” he said.
Shit. The Cappy was sat watching him.
“I just wanted to stop by and let you boys know I won the auction.”
Buddy managed a smile. “The porno painting, bro that’s sweet.”
The Cappy laughed too. “An Owen never misses, no matter what target they set in mind.”
Chad and Cooper were awake too. Austin was sat by his own son’s bedside.
“I reckon you should donate it to the museum. It can hang right next to the armour of the Greatest Northsider,” Oz suggested.
They all chuckled.
Buddy and his bros had had a lengthy discussion on what the painting actually looked like, having had only talk to go on. The bros had created such an image in their head of Barbara Tulloch I fear they were going to be disappointed.
Chick dropped the golden asset onto the bed at Buddy’s feet.
“I want you to hold onto this,” the father said.
“I’ll put it right,” Buddy offered.
“I’m leaving the decision of what to do with it up to you. You can either put it right and cover up the past or you can keep it as is and see it as a reminder that you need to better. Whichever you choose you should know I’m proud of you. I ain’t told you that enough but I am. Your spirit is a pain in my ass more times than none but that spirit of yours is unbreakable. You’ve got it in you. If these golden balls right here ain’t a symbol of that Owen spirit I don’t know what is.”
“Good thing I made the golden cock then,” Buddy grinned, his unfaltering spirit being a pain in the ass all over again.
“Don’t push it,” The Cappy warned. But then he started to laugh.
He really was in quite a jovial mood.
Earlier that afternoon, The Cappy had spoken with Tabitha.
“Your boys are home, safe and sound,” he reminded her of the triplets. “You and I had a little agreement. You said there was someone who had embezzled funds in the Owen name. You promised me you would tell me who. I’ve kept my end of the bargain. So what do you say?”
Tabitha did consider being petulant. It was almost like an instinct with her. Chick had stuck to his end of their agreement. The triplets were home and getting Marcus from the Boss’ grip couldn’t have been an easy task.
“You should have a word with your rabid bitch, Marshall Cooper,” she told him. “Reginald always suspected he was running guns and drugs and all sorts. He needed money. He used your name through Beckingridge to open a new account. They wouldn’t object because they were told you agreed.”
“Do you have proof of this?” Chick asked.
“Isn’t fifty nine fucking dead bodies proof enough?” Tabitha returned.
“Not in this city,” said Chick.
Chick arranged for the Beckingridge Firm to send him all the information they had to him personally. He had left a message with Marshall saying he wanted to talk to him as soon as he returned from Tokashima. In the meantime, the bros appeared to have learned their lesson. At least they had learned some lesson.
“Crikey? Is that the time?” Austin put in. “We better go Chick.” He patted Chad’s leg affectionately.
Chick stood. “I’m proud of you,” he said to them. He paid special attention to Dale, who’s own father was absent from these discussions. “I’m proud of y’all”
“Kappa So!” the two elders cried as they were leaving.
“Kappa So!” the bros returned.
“Coops? Coops?” Buddy asked.
“Yeah Bud?”
“Where am I going to hide this damn cock?”
Chad sniggered.
***
Chick found himself at a van in North Coldridge. The van had collected the painting from the Auction House and It would make its way to Owen Estate.
“I asked that any tears, blood splatter or damage from being down in Northside wasn’t touched in anyway,” The Cappy was reiterating on the phone to Ronnie. When he approached the van it looked like it had been left behind.
“Those dumb ass boys gone and abandoned my painting,” Chick groaned. He made his way straight to the back. He pulled the doors open, noting that they had been left unlocked. Inside sat the painting that had caused such a fuss. The young Kappa So brothers who had been entrusted with collecting it must have hopped out to drain the snake, bless ‘em. He had a good mind to take the painting and have them believe it had been stolen. Teach the youngins a little lesson.
“Cappy!” A frat boy called from the front. “You had better come see this.”
Chick went back to the front where others were pulling the bodies of two Kappa So brothers out onto the park gravel.
“What the Hell?” Chick exclaimed. Both boys had been decapitated.
Slam.
The rear of the van had been closed.
Swipe.
Chick had been following behind only to see half of a body fall back whilst the other half fell forward. Standing before them, with the flames of retribution tearing into the back of the van was St Michael. He steadied his great sword again. Breath escaped his helmet in a fine mist.
Whack.
He knocked Chick to the ground. Chick tried to scramble. He drew his gun. The steel of the helmet would protect him. His vital organs were covered. He just had time to aim when the sword was driven through him. He gasped.
“You cannot be saved,” said the attacker.
Charles ‘Chick’ Owen better known as The Cappy, steadied his gun.
“Suck my God balls,” he said.
Bang!
He caught the Templar in the femoral artery. His armour only allowed a small gap to wound. If it wasn’t treated right away it would bleed out.
Chick Owen coughed up his own blood. As he his mind slipped away to whatever afterlife there was waiting for him, he thought of his precious dynasty. Give em’ Hell, were his final instructions.
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“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 can 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.”
Click. Clang.
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 mother’s.”
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.
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 grinded 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 they 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 his 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.
Kim agreed.
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.
BANG!
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 too 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 children 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.
BANG!
His Eminence Dominick Cole was brought down with a bullet to his leg.
***
Bart had tackled Kim again. He had managed to land her on the ground. She climbed to her feet 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 composure 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.
BANG!
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.
***
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 tall, fair man. On his belt were the Wigan pistols.
“Bad bob!” Dominick gasped.
Seeing the man crossing the sands towards him, 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. They 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. His 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.
“There’s Marcus!”
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 was 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.
