Hewil felt out of place and in a world of pain as he came back into the world. His entire head was in agony and he could taste the bitterness of blood. Groaning, he slowly sat himself up as he thought of how the entire thing was wrong. He thought of how he was supposed to be the one on top of everything, like he had been his entire life.
At home, he was able to get away with things because it was his birth right as a man to get what he wanted out of women. At home, he was able to get his mother and younger sister to cook, clean, and serve him how he saw fit, and if they did anything that didn't please them, he'd beat them. They could cry all they wanted, but it didn't change a damn thing. He was the man of the house, and they were only stupid women. Tools to be used.
Society didn't want to agree with him as they discouraged that kind of activity. It didn't stop him from doing what he believed in. He'd bully the girls at his school, he'd beat the girls at his school, and let his opinions be known to anyone that would listen.
He'd spread the word by orchestrating music with his friends and hand out CDs to people to listen to.
To say that the school wasn't pleased was an understatement as their private security would often try to catch him and his friends. But they were too stupid to catch them. Either that or they knew better than to mess with him and his mates.
His two friends were huge and burly, and it made people avoid taking action against him. The women were weak and too cowardly to stand up for themselves, so they ran to the boys to help them. But there was a reason the bigger men were always in charge. They were more powerful than the weaklings. So when the boys came to fight for the girls, Hewil got his muscular friends and got them to beat up the would be heroes.
That made him more powerful than anyone in the school. The staff and security were shit compared to him and his friends. He only wished that his band, the W.A.T.S, A.K.A, Women Are Too Stupid, would take off so that the true worldly views could spread near and far, but he figured that it was only a matter of time before society saw past the lies of women's rights and those that defended them.
He was pretty sure that his father would be proud of him as he had left when he found that his mother was having a daughter. He understood the world, and that was why he left the whores when he found that he'd be getting a second one.
He was a man, that bastard that was defending that little bitch was a man, he should have known that by teaming up with him that they would have taken all the whores and made them die for them. After all, The Program was a game that was beyond entertaining. Watching the girls break down at a concept that separated the weak from the strong. It made Hewil think of just how powerless the females were without the aid of males.
So imagine his disbelief when two females actually managed to win The Program. In a situation to divide between the worthy and strong from the weak and disposable, two useless sluts managed to win? He wondered what the world was coming to.
Hewil's eyes opened a crack, and through the hazy vision he could make out a figure standing in front of him. He blinked a couple more times before his vision was clear once again.
It was someone clad in a brown hunting jacket, drab green trousers, and brown hiking boots. She also wore a brown neck warmer that was covering her nose, mouth, and neck. To top it all off was an olive green trapper hat that covered her ears.
Though most of her body was covered with worn clothing, the length of her black hair and from what he could see of her face, he could see that it was a girl of asian decent. Probably a jap rat or gook. And why the fuck was she staring at him?
He hated that she was staring at him and decided to take action, even if his mouth and side of the face hurt like a mother fucker.
"What the fuck you looking at bitch?" He spat, allowing blood to pour from his mouth as he spoke.
The girl, he now noticed was holding a screwdriver in one hand, pointed to something behind him. She then pointed to him with the screwdriver and then pointed back to the thing behind him. "I'm not doing a damn thing for-" He was cut short by the girl kicking him in the face, sending agony through his face as blood sprayed from his mouth and his head once again hit the side of the dresser. The girl then repeated her demand.
Hewil didn't like being ordered around by a girl when it should be him ordering her around. "Fuck you." Hewil told her as even more blood spilled from his mouth. The girl shook her head, like she was disappointed with him before she plunged the screwdriver into his left leg. Hewil screamed as he felt the tool scrape against his bone before it was mercilessly pulled out.
The girl then repeated her demand with the bloody tool, and though Hewil didn't want to comply with the silent female, he didn't want to get stabbed again.
With his pride and dignity in pieces, Hewil slowly stood up, finding it hard to even get up and stand with an injured leg.
The female forced him up the stairs of the aging farm house until he was on the second floor balcony.
Hewil looked at the horizon to see that it was approaching noon, wondering what the slut had in store for him. He got his answer before he even asked. With seemingly inhuman speed, an orange extension cord tied in a bowline knot looped around his neck. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, the girl reached under his waist, and flipped him over the balcony railing with ease and sent him plummeting to the ground. He didn't make it far as the loop around his neck stopped around three feet from the balcony and yanked on his neck suddenly.
His neck didn't snap from the sudden halt, so he was left dangling in the air being hung to death. Hewil struggled and clawed at the makeshift noose, but he couldn't get loose. He pulled at the end of the electrical cord that was swinging in front of his face, but it only served to make the noose tighter.
Hewil's face went red, then purple. Within two minutes of struggling he passed out. Another minute passed before he died from asphyxiation.
Above him, Raelyn Yokoyama of the enforcers looked at the horizon in front of her, making her think of her home in rural Florida. Very rural as it was a swamp land out there that most people wanted to stay away from unless they were tourists wanting to look at the wildlife. And even then they left quickly because of all the insects and generally not being a pleasant place to live. But to Raelyn, it was home. A place to be away from all the chaos of modern life as she and her family lived a simple life of surviving outdoors.
Most people would call her a survivalist, but she didn't do her activities for fun, to her, it was a way of life.
Raelyn pulled the body up, wondering if the boy was truly dead, or just playing possum. When he was within striking range, Raelyn stabbed him in the chest with her screwdriver and removed it from the body. There was no reaction. Satisfied, Raelyn let the body drop again before she walked away.
As the enforcer made her way down the stairs, she knew that some people in their homes were wondering why she had waited so long to kill him. She could have stabbed him to death with her screwdriver, drive it through his head, in one ear and out the other. Simple.
But Raelyn wanted to make the students running around more fearful for their lives than they already were. It made them more stupid. They weren't used to situations like this. Or maybe they were if they were from one of the more violent areas of America. Either way, seeing a dead body hanging outside the house would do wonders to people's psych.
Another thing she waited so long for him to wake up was because she didn't want to haul his fat ass up the stairs to the balcony. She was strong, sure, but why waste your energy when you didn't have to?
Exiting the house with her supplies in tow, the girl walked off, continuing her job.
As the two girls discovered as they walked the streets, they were the same yet different.
While Mary Grace King helped people at West Shores High by standing by those that were picked on by bullies and sat with kids that seemed lonely, becoming like a guardian to them and a guide to high school for new freshmen, Chloe Rocha was someone that helped street kids and those that were addicted to drugs.
Mary Grace was surprised by the news when Chloe had told her, as she just figured that the party girl went to the rave scene to do the drugs. Instead, she helped the at risk youth and tried to prevent them from diving deeper into addiction.
The place that Chloe worked tried to help the at risk youths find jobs and stay away from crimes in order to survive.
"Guess I was wrong about you." Mary Grace said as they were looking through a convenience store that was stocked with some food and drinks. Honestly, the two girls were surprised that it hadn't already been stripped clean by now, but were grateful that they had found the cache of supplies before someone else had. Though she did with that the store had stocked up on ice packs to help her face. "I mean, looking at you, I would never have guessed that you were that kind of street worker."
"Never judge a book by it's cover, King." Chloe told her as she lit up a cigarette that she had found in the case behind the cashier counter. "I mean, I may light up a joint every now and again, but I'd never try the hard stuff. I've seen the shit that happens with that stuff."
Indeed, Chloe had seen first hand what that stuff did to people. The main reason why she had even began helping kids kick the habit was because her older brother had tried cocaine once at a party, and instantly got hooked.
It didn't take long before he started to steal from his family and prostitute himself in order to fuel his drug craze. Luckily, he had managed to get off the horrible drug and continue on with his life, but Chloe really didn't want that sort of thing to happen again. And the anguish she felt, she didn't want other families to feel if they could help it. So she started to volunteer for outreach programs with her brother.
While she wasn't optimistic enough to think that she could save everyone, she knew that what she was doing was important work, because someone had to try. Right? And even if she helped one person, it was one less family that needed to needlessly suffer.
It ruined families and contributed to the problem plaguing America.
With gangs fighting over turf, the hospitals having to respond to drug overdoses, and the resources wasted on them instead of something more productive, Chloe could easily see why the government had allowed the Youth Reconstruction Act to come into effect. Even if there were people that protested and didn't agree with the method.
Because of her job, she was part of the minority of youths that were allowed to be out past the government installed curfew aimed at her age group. She had more responsibility than those within her age group, but she also had more freedom. Freedom that she didn't abuse. And with her job, she got to know the local cops and private security guards pretty well. They were able to tell her what to watch out for and where to look for clients, and she was able to supply them with warnings and possible locations of interests as well.
They helped each other in mutual interest as they wanted to clean up the streets and keep people safe.
"So what's it like out there?" Mary Grace asked, wondering what it was like to be out after hours since she was one to mostly stick to the rules.
"It can be scary," Chloe told her as she blew smoke out of her mouth. "I mean, who wouldn't be scared after hours with all the fucked up things going on? But hey, California isn't so bad compared to other places. I mean, I sure as hell wouldn't want to be in places such as Virginia or New York right now. And hell, Las Vegas is close to us. I heard that emergency services are being pushed to the limit there."
"That bad?"
"Yep."
Though truth be told, Chloe would like to transfer to Las Vegas to try and help those at risk youths. Sure she still cared about her home state, but there was a bigger problem in the gambling state. And if she could lower the drug trade, that was less power to the gangs and would help lower the crime rate. More power would go to the police and things might calm down a little.
So while she might not have as much power or influence as the second or third program winners, she did think that one person could make a difference. Jerry James of Georgia was a radio host that helped those grieving with loss and struggles while encouraging them to seek help, while also campaigning for better educations in schools. Kendra Edwards of Michigan on the other hand had donated her winnings to the police departments of her state and was a spokes person for teens with unwanted pregnancies and a couple other support systems.
The two girls continued to load up on food and drinks when they heard the door opening due to the bell above the door being rung. The two girls spun around to see a hispanic looking guy holding a plastic bag in one hand, like them, but unlike them he held a handgun in his other hand.
"Drop the bags and face the wall!" The hispanic teen ordered. "Do it! Now!"
The two girls were momentously frozen as Marcos Sánchez approached them. He didn't see them as a threat at they didn't seem to have any firearms, but he didn't approach too quickly just in case.
The girls hadn't moved for nearly four seconds when Marcos fired off a shot that sounded near deafening in the confined space of the store. The bullet made a bag of potato chips explode, startling the two girls. "I ain't fucking around senoritas! Get your face to the wall or find a bullet in it!"
The girls minds came back to earth with that gunshot. They didn't have a way to fight back very well considering that the only weapon they had was Mary Grace's hockey stick. As for defense, Mary Grace didn't think that her hockey pads would protect her from a bullet. And Chloe stood no chance with her street clothes.
"Run to the back door on my command." Chloe whispered to her ally. While she didn't feel that it was guarantied to work, she just knew that the boy was going to shot them in the back if they obeyed him.
Chloe wasn't the bravest person ever, but survival instincts was coursing through her. And having to trek the streets in the middle of the night and meet clients in drug dens and shady places, she had gotten more or less used to the feeling of danger, even if she didn't want it to find her.
Mary Grace, however, was still remembering when she had gotten stuck in the middle of a gang fight. Until then, she had never gotten into the middle of any kind of serious trouble. She had been beyond scared, and she thought that the only reason she had gotten out of there alive was because she had picked up the gun of a dead gang member and used it to defend herself. Sure she shot mostly wildly, but it kept people away from her until the police arrived.
"What?" Mary Grace asked before she felt Chloe grab the back of her hockey pads.
"Now!" Chloe shouted before she pulled Mary Grace down behind a row a snacks. A split second later, two gunshots rang out. One hit the wall behind the girls, the second hit the glass door of the industrial sized beverage cooler.
"Hey!" Marcos yelled as Chloe was practically shoving Mary Grace through the aisle and towards the back exit.
The two girls ran through the back door hard enough to make it slam against the wall, hard, as Marcos fired another three bullets at them. One hit harmlessly against the wall, the second hit the floor near Chloe's foot, the third tore through the bill of the backwards hat Mary Grace wore as they turned the corner.
Marcos, not wanting them to get away, chase after them, running across the store until he to hit open the door and turned to the direction the two girls ran to. Marcos fired his Glock twenty two an additional four times. By the fourth shot, the girls had disappeared onto another street. "Fuck." Marcos muttered.
So much for not wanting to waste bullets. He thought. Maybe I should have finished that first guy.
With those girls still alive, it was just two more people that could potentially kill him. Still, he figured it wasn't a total waste as he looked at the cache of food and drinks he had came upon.
