As the ashes begin to settle and the city falls to rest,
My mind turns to the ways I still find myself blessed.
My father was a king. He was noble and he was strong,
But even noble men can be led to do wrong.
Sacrifice, he told me, was what it would take.
That is the first thought I have before every decision I make.
He gave his blood and he gave his life.
Soon to follow was his devoted wife.
My mother was a queen. She was doting and she was kind.
Her departure has left three grieving sons behind.
Sacrifice, he told me, even when it means all.
To protect the princes, the king may have to fall.
My brothers are princes. They mean the world to me.
When that world is a brutal one, which sacrifice should it be?
One prince is broken but he will always fight on.
The other is strong, but his fight is gone.
They have to be ready because this world sings a cruel song.
My duty is done and for me it’s too far gone.
She will come searching and She will have her taste.
Sacrifice, he told me, never let it be a waste.
There’s no turning back. The king has to fall.
A better world emerging from the ashes of it all.
Make that sacrifice and make it great,
Because I know what Hell lies in wait.
I see Her watching me. She never truly let me go.
I close my eyes and I feel Her walls close.
Wait! It’s too soon. There’s still much to do!
A sacrifice, he said, king, queen and princes too.
The blood is on my hands. Please just give me time.
I will make my sacrifice if you promise the kingdom will be fine.
The prince is strong. He will find that strength once more.
The broken prince will heal. I’ve seen him do it before.
I just beg you give me time. The sacrifice will be made.
Your walls are closing in but please just give me some space.
Already I feel the fires burn. I know that it is my turn.
I can’t leave them. Not just yet. I will make the sacrifice. I won’t forget.
It is a wicked world, and you are the most savage of all.
I beseech you to release me from your halls.
I will make that sacrifice. I won’t cause a fuss.
Even when that hear that final buzz, buzz, buzz.
Time is running out for King Marcus of Main. Murder charges are looming and the electric chair beckons. Now there is a virulent troll wreaking havoc, set to destroy all he is trying to secure before the inevitable.
Coldford is most definitely a shady city and even shadier are some of the ones who live there. If you’re planning on diving into the chronicles from our reporter, Sam Crusow, then prepare yourself with some of these handy tips on how to stay safe (at least somewhat safe).
Sam and Theresa check the invitation to the hottest spot in the Shady City.
1: Choose your faction carefully.
Each area of Coldford has it’s own faction ruling the streets. Each have their own set of rules and moral boundaries may vary.
Whether you are a regal loyalist of the kingdom of City Main or a Red from the Shanties, you need to choose your sides carefully. The noble bastards are always good to follow, but rarely do you surive.
2: Don’t piss off the Owens.
Speaking of choosing your loyalties carefully, The title of the most morally ambiguous group in Coldford probably lies in the hands of the Owens of Owen Inc.
They come from outside the city, bringing their brazen Great States attitude. The reason you don’t piss them off? Apart from the fact they will stoop to such low levels to win, they were all raised excellent sharp shooters. They say an Owen never misses.
3: Never drink the tea from Hathfield Bay.
The notorious island just off the coast of Coldford is home of the Church of St Wigan. On the island grows a psychodelic mushroom called heether that the islanders consume quite often. To the city dwellers? It can be incredibly dangerous.
4: Never trust a Stoker!
Never trust the carnie folks from Stoker Circus, not a single one!
They boast a hero among their ranks. Adrien Stoker helped save hundreds of lives during the war in the country of Levinkrantz. He was a true hero. However, the skills he utilised as an escape artist had been hoaned from housebreaking, pocket picking and evading the law.
The family who now run the circus are much the same. There may be twinges of conscience and maybe even a glimmer of empathy. When it all comes down to it they would rob their dead grandma. Which, incidentally is exactly how Hanz Stoker came up with the idea to set up a crime cleaning business when the circus was off season.
“Need that cleaned right up? No problem mucker.”
5: First impressions can be misleading.
There are occassions when you will meet an outright good guy in Coldford. If you do, hold onto them, because that is quite the rarity.
It can be difficult living amongst those shades so when you meet a murdering maniac, they may very well become the hero needed. There is also the chance that that sweet old grandma who seems so sweet may very well be the worst of all.
Key? Always expect the worst. It’s just safer that way!
Enjoy this? Check out these thrillers, set in Coldford.
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.
In our modern age meeting new people has never been simpler but having the chance to make that true connection still remains a challenge. CONNEX from Coby Inc makes dating simpler. With the strongest algorithms you can find your perfect match within minutes. With just a few short questions a world of romantic prospects opens up to you. CONNEX – connecting the city.
At the heart of technology in Coldford City, Coby Games is at the cutting edge. Providing the most exciting video games as well as social media apps, home tech and much more!
Needless to say, Coby Games aims to pull a city stuck in a wretched past into a bright future. This isn’t always easy and it makes them a target of those who would resist such changes.
Things in the Shady City can get real bleak so you won’t be blamed for wanting to lose yourself in the virtual world that Coby Games provides. Just be careful though, Trolls lurk in there and their malicious intentions can have some real-life consequences.
Coby Games have found themselves a target of a cyber attack. The threats are real and time is running out to uncover the true identity of the one responsible.
Nicholas is the nephew of JEAN LUC PENN making him a cousin of Penn triplets, MARCUS, SIMON and REGGIE,
He is the son of Marion Penn and Jules Fontaine, the fourteenth Marquis de Fontaine. Unfortunately, his parents disappeared when he was a baby, leaving him to be raised by his uncle in relative solitude of the Fontaine Estate.
Having had only the company of his nanny and servants, Nicholas is naive to the real world. His uncle is understandably concerned when he expresses an interest in studying English at Filton University in the Shady City. Nicholas is nothing if not persistent and strong-minded, so his dream of finally expriencing true life may just become true.
The trouble is though. Coldford is a dangerous place and given his background, his wealth and his titles he may become an easy target.
“With his parents gone, many years ago, Nicholas grew up on his fancy estate with just his nanny and servants.
Coming to Coldford City, an internet troll claims to know the truth behind the disappearance of the marquis and his wife.
Reginald Penn, dedicated king, disreputable hooligan and loving husband had certainly lived a full life. From the royal courts of Luen to the filthy streets of Coldford City he thought he had seen it all. Nothing offered him the challenge that being the father of identical triplets did.
When one woke through the night, as infants tended to do, the sound of their cry would always stir the others. Reginald’s wife, Rita, didn’t like them to be in separate rooms when they were so young, despite the penthouse suite of the Faulds building, in which they lived, having ample space.
“When one gets up they look for the others and they get upset when they can’t find them,” was Rita’s reasoning.
“Of course, my love,” Reginald agreed.
It was easier to keep them together when they were infants anyway. They were content that way and stayed settled. They were easy enough to handle until middle boy, Simon, found the ability to pull himself out of his cot.
Marcus, the eldest, was the most patient of the three. He would watch quietly as fuss was made by the youngest, Reginald Junior. Reggie didn’t cry. He just tended to make a lot of noise trying to follow Simon. With some frustration on his little face it would appear Marcus was chastising his brothers for not staying put.
Taking care of babies is a chore for anyone. Then they reach that terrible toddling stage and all Hell breaks loose.
Rita was hesitant to be apart from the triplets. In the few years since giving birth to them she had barely left their side. A trip abroad without them had rendered her nervous.
“Just enjoy the trip,” Reginald told her over the phone.
“I will,” she replied. “The weather has gotten terrible so we are delayed. How are the boys?”
“They’re fine,” Reginald confirmed. “They’re no match for their old man.”
Rita chuckled.
“Don’t let them gang up on you.”
“Don’t worry,” Reginald insisted. “The boys and I will keep ourselves occupied until you get back. Just enjoy yourself. Call me when you land.”
He could hear the warm smile radiate through her voice.
“I will. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he responded. “I’ll speak to you soon.”
When he closed the call, he looked over to his sons, seated in the lounge. Marcus was busying himself sorting blocks by colour. Simon was building them up as high as he could reach and knocking them back down again. Reginald couldn’t be prouder. He really was blessed with wonderful sons. Then he took a closer look.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” he muttered.
Simon chortled. “Shit,” he called back.
Reginald frowned. “Don’t repeat me,” he warned.
He rushed back to the phone and called downstairs.
“Uncle Mand? I’m going to need you to come up for a few minutes. I need your help.” Reginald listened to the booming voice of his uncle return to him.
“Could you just come up, please. Bring Jeen, I could use his help too.”
Uncle Armand and his son Jean Luc arrived at the penthouse suite shortly after.
“What’s the problem? he asked.
Marcus and Simon were still playing blocks in the lounge. Reginald looked a little stressed.
“Take a look,” the nephew beckoned.
Armand glanced at the boys.
“Precious little lads. What more do you want?”
Reginald frowned. “You don’t see it?”
Armand took another look. They appeared to be in good health.
Reginald groaned. “There should be fucking three of them Uncle Mand.”
Simon chortled again. “Fuckin’,” he declared.
“Don’t repeat me,” Reginald warned his son once more.
“Which one is missing?” asked the uncle.
“Junior,” answered Jean Luc. “Always Junior.”
“He’s around here somewhere,” Reginald told him. “I can’t leave the other two to search for him or they’ll be off too. He’ll have fallen asleep in the linen basket again or he’ll be looking for his mother.”
Jean Luc pursed his lips.
“How can you be so careless?” he asked.
“Careless?” Reginald responded. “The minute Marcus learned to walk he taught the other two. Before I know It I’m having to herd them in. Whenever Rita’s here they won’t leave her side. As soon as she steps out they scatter and I’m outnumbered. I’m evening up those numbers. I don’t need your griping Jeen. I just need you to help me round them up.”
Jean Luc glared at his cousin. “Do I look like a fucking collie dog?”
“Fuckin’”
“Stop repeating, Simon!” Reginald warned the middle boy again. Turning back to his cousin he chided, “don’t use that kind of language in front of the boys. Uncle Mand? Could you sit here with Marcus and Simon? Jeen? Just help me find Junior.”
As his son and nephew wandered off in search of the missing triplet, Armand took a seat on the sofa. Enamoured by his great uncle, Simon came wandering over to him. Marcus inspected his brother’s movements from afar. Simon passed Armand a piece of paper he had scribbled on.
“Is that for me?” asked the uncle affectionately, looking at the markings the child had made in blue crayon. “You are a sweet lad,” he chuckled. He lifted Simon onto his knee. “Let’s see what we have here, shall we?”
Meanwhile, Reginald and Jean Luc began to search the linen baskets – Reggie’s favourite hiding place.
Jean Luc voiced objection again when his cousin checked under the hood of a false chimney.
“Can you squeeze in there?” Reginald requested of his cousin.
“I most certainly can not,” was Jean Luc’s reply.
“There’s a ledge in there, Junior climbed up on it before. Squeeze in and coax him down.”
“Fine,” Jean Luc agreed, taking his jacket off.
Being shorter in stature and of slimmer build, Jean Luc was able to squeeze in and look towards the ledge.
“Junior? If you’re up there come down at once.”
On the outside, Reginald was distracted from Jean Luc’s muffled voice by the patter of small feet, dashing past him to the master suite.
“Junior!?” called the father. “Why did you take off your clothes?”
Not realising he had been left behind, Jean Luc called, “I hope you’re paying for the dry cleaning, Reg. It will take nothing short of a miracle to get this filth out.”
Meanwhile, downstairs, Armand held Simon to his chest. Looking over to where he had been playing he could see the blocks Marcus had been sorting by colour, but no Marcus. Armand looked to Simon.
“Where did your brother go?”
“Shit! Shit!” Simon declared.
“I quite agree, lad,” said Armand. Simon laughed as Armand tucked him under his arm and went in search of the other triplet.
As the hunt commenced for Marcus, Jean Luc had climbed back out of the false chimney, wiping dust and dirt from his clothing.
“The filth up there,” he was groaning, only to find Reginald was gone. Standing in his place was Marcus.
“Slipped the old man, did you?” he jested to the boy. He reached his hand out. “C’mon. We best go help your father.”
“Why?” Marcus asked.
“Because he’s looking for your brother. He’s gone wandering again.”
“Why?”
“Who knows? I swear you got all the brains.”
Reginald had chased his namesake to the master suite where the troublesome tot dashed onto the balcony.
Reginald the senior stopped in his tracks as Reggie pulled himself to the ledge.
“Junior! Do not move.”
Marcus must have learned to open the damn locks. What fresh Hell was this?
Reginald managed a smile.
“Don’t you want to come in, my boy? It’s freezing out there. Don’t you want to put some clothes on?”
Reggie looked back at him. The stream of city lights down below was just too enticing. The father was going to have to do much better than that.
“If you come in you can have some ice cream … for breakfast.”
Reggie offered a look that suggested, ‘you’d never let me eat ice cream for breakfast, old man.’
Reggie heaved his bare little backside up onto the ledge. Before he could get a good look at the city lights his father snatched him up into his arms.
“Do not go out there,” was the father’s stern warning. “I swear, boy. You are going to be my life’s work.”
When he got back to the lounge, Jean Luc had returned, leading Marcus by the hand. Armand was carrying Simon, who had rested his head against his uncle’s chest with heavy eyes.
“Ah, you found him,” said the uncle, taking in Junior in Reginald’s arms. “That lad is naked.”
“Why?” asked Marcus.
“Get used to it, my boy,” said Jean Luc. “I have a feeling you’re going to be asking that of your brother for a long time.”
Reginald breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s all three accounted for. I’m going to have to bolt the damn balconies.”
“Why?”
“Because you figured the locks, Marcus.”
“Keep your voice down,” said Armand. “Little Simon is falling asleep.”
Before Reginald could fetch clothing for the youngest of the triplets there was a call from reception.
“Sorry to disturb you sir,” said the receptionist, politely. “I was asked by Madame Penn to let you know her flight was cancelled and she’s returning home.”
“Thank you. I have to go. I’m just dressing the boys.”
“Of course, sir.”
Reginald returned to his uncle and cousin. “Rita’s on her way back. I better get the boys to bed.”
“It is getting late,” said Jean Luc to Marcus. “Past your bedtime, ah?”
“Why?”
“I don’t make the rules. That’s just how it is.”
Marcus yawned. He supposed it was time for bed after all.
After dressing Junior in pyjamas again the three placed their respective triplet in a cot. The lights were lowered. Simon clutched Armand’s arm until the very last minute. Then he gave himself to sleep.
“Papa?”
Reginald turned back to find it was Marcus who had called on him.
“Just go to sleep, my boy,” said the father tenderly. “Your mother will be …”
“Mother!”
Like the word was some ancient incantation, Reggie sprang to life again and started to cry.
“Mother! Mama? Mother!”
This calling stirred Simon.
“Mother?” he asked.
Marcus sat in his cot, already succumbed to the fact he was not to have an easy night’s rest. Reginald was trying to urge them to hush.
“Mama!!!” the three were now crying.
Reginald gulped down his impatience.
“If you don’t go to sleep right now, mother isn’t coming back!”
“Reginald!” Jean Luc scolded. “Don’t be so cruel.”
“Good night, boys,” said Reginald with a more pleasant tone. “The sooner you go to sleep the sooner … for fuck sake, Junior! Keep your pyjamas on!”
“Fuck sake,” Simon raised his head to say.
By the time Rita returned from the airport Reginald was seated in the lounge. He had composed himself as though it had all been a breeze. He greeted his wife with a warm kiss.
“I’m sorry about your trip,” he said. “Maybe another time.”
“Did the boys give you any fuss?”
“They’re good boys. They were looking for you but they settled down.”
Rita smiled sweetly. “I’ll just go look in on them.”
“You go ahead,” said Reginald in a nonchalant manner. As soon as Rita started to make her way to the nursery, Reginald dropped the book he had been pretending to read and followed after her to make sure Junior had remained clothed, Simon remained in his cot and Marcus had kept his hands off any locks.
Thankfully, they were all sleeping soundly.
Hearing his mother’s voice, Simon stirred again.
“Hello, baby,” said the mother softly.
He sat up, wiped the sleepiness from his eyes and reached his arms out to her. She lifted him up and rocked him.
“Did you have a nice time with your dad?” she asked.
Simon yawned. He rested against her and said, “fuckin’ shit mama.”
The Penn family of Main are notorious throughout Coldford City. The triplet princes are all grown up now and find themselves the target of a troll with deadly intentions.
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 …
ARC is a Coldford-based charitable organisation established to fight for the rights of all animals. Like their human counterparts, all other species on this planet are able to feel pain, fear and love. ARC exists to ensure all animals are treated ethically. ARC – Animal Rights of Coldford. Get involved.
Led by social media influencer, Hugo Webb, the ARC have made great strides in protecting the rights of animals in Coldford City and beyond. They are responsible for protecting the Subalan elephant and the Kuberstani wildcat among others.
Their cause is a just one and Hugo is no hypocrite in his beliefs. He will stand by them no matter what. This is where the ARC becomes a bit of a problem. They are overzealous in their approach and can be extreme in their reactions. They have been known to throw acid in the faces of models who wore fur, harass pet owners who aren’t keeping up to their standards and most often making a nuisance of themselves at PERRY ZOO.
From a fishing family, Hugo abandoned the family business to pursue his love of animals. He is unshakable in his cause because he believes he is just. He isn’t exactly wrong in that. Most believe cruelty against animals is wrong. It’s just, how the ARC go about it!
No one knows how to go viral like Hugo Webb. That is of course until a troll calling themselves PINDROP25 starts messaging him with threats to his family.
Hugo has a huge following and he now finds himself in danger as PINDROP25 seeks to steal his audience.
Fergie is a young boy in his senior year of high school. Despite being at that age where he his biggest care in the world should be his friends and studying hard enough to gain entry to FILTON UNIVERSITY he finds himself with a great burden on his shoulder.
He is the head of WEBB FISHING INDUSTRIES which is one of the biggest groups and most influential in the Swantin area. With that he is considered the boy king of Swantin.
He is the younger brother of social media influencer and animal activist Hugo Webb. Having an aversion to fishing and protesting his own family business, Hugo abdicated from the Swantin throne to pursue his own activist group – THE ARC (Animal Rights of Coldford). His sister, Heather Webb, would much rather live the life of a socialite then deal with the Fisherman’s Union. So, it all fell to young Fergie and he handles it well.
The father, Fergus Senior, died in a fishing accident when he was really young leaving Hugo to have provided most of the care for the siblings as they grew up.
When a troll starts to beat his brother going viral, Fergie finds himself drawn into a threat brewing on the dark web. Let’s hope the broad shoulders of the boy king of the docks can handle a viral threat.
Enjoy this?
Online threats from a troll are starting to have real life consequences for the entire city. Can their true identity be revealed before it’s too late and reputations are ruined?
“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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