Cast Out

The bear-sized man trunched infront of me, pushing past the crowds of people and leading into the club directly. We walked past the coat rooms, not pausing but maintaining a quick pace. I looked about me as I followed, different areas of the bar appearing and then disappearing. I looked to the spot where Sarah and I had previously resided, in the far corner, furthest away from the exit but closer to the dancefloor and bar- a strategic placement for a grieving man in need of distractions and a caring woman who had had the difficult task doted upon her. But the bouncer was still leading me elsewhere, the bright lighting was hard for my eyes to adjust to but soon we were no longer in the busy main body of the building but through a set of thick-set double doors which lead to what seemed like a VIP lounge. The bouncer stopped and I took in my surroundings. It had the same colour scheme as before but more accessible, classy even. There was a cushioned circular booth with an ebony table placed in the middle with two glasses set upon coasters on the edges of the booth. I had expected to see Sarah perched there and smiling up at me, but she was nowhere to be seen. No matter, I'm sure she'd be arriving soon. The bouncer looked at me, even his face looked bear-ish and not the cute teddy-kind. He had a cold hard stare and I looked away uncomfortably. I took a seat on the right-hand side of the booth and as I did so, the bouncer left but I saw his head through a circular window on one of the doors in which we had entered. Another head joined him on the other side, guarding the contents of this room. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. Sarah had not arranged such elaborate measures of isolation. She couldn't have done. So who was my companion for the evening?

I looked about for any sign of another entrance, but the artificial light of the room was not enough to give away a location of one. Until, quite suddenly and escaping my notice of where he had come from: a man appeared to stand before me. I couldn't identify any of his facial features, but I noted his size; he was roughly 5''10ft in height and he had a slight build, with muscles showing slightly in his arms. He was wearing a smart dark blue suit which shimmered slightly under the lighting, it was fitted and tailored to suit him. A designer suit. It was times such as this which I wished I had the brilliant deductive powers of Sherlock. I see but do not observe, as he says. The man strode boldly towards me, his right arm bent slightly, he was holding something. He sat down heavily and looked at me, placing a bottle of Dissarono in the middle of us. I could fill a cold chill creeping over me, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that something was happening (I'd be a fool if I didn't) but I was also full of dread and anguish as to the whereabouts and circumstances of the woman I had expected to accompany me tonight. I still couldn't make out his face properly, but I could tell that he had light brown hair, parted at the slide and slicked. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and the atmosphere of the room seemed to be filled with static- I was waiting for the lightning to strike.

"Apologies to have interrupted you in your plans, Dr Watson." He had a harsh Scottish accent, a glaswegian I presume. His voice was exceedingly masculine and dominant. He unscrewed the top of the drink and poured himself a steady amount. He then gestured to me, so I pushed my glass forward and watched as he poured the liquid into it. I muttered a thanks and pulled it gently towards me. "Curious, Dr Watson, how you strode in so blindly and enthusiastically. Surely a soldier knows to keep a steady eye for slight peculiarities and create precautions. But it has been quite some time for you hasn't it? Since you were in Afghanistan, serving for the Army."

He knew I had military history. Possibly my attacker. The man continued:

"I know how you feel. They sent me back aswell. The only people who had given me purpose and they sent me back. I disobeyed an order from my sargeant. He wanted me and the boys to shoot upon a civillian village without any real evidence that the enemies were there. It was inhabitated, Dr Watson. They wanted us to gun down innocent civillians for no reason and after I convinced some of my comrades to fight his order, he bared down on me. He was notorious for unneeded violence was our sargeant. So when I tried to fight his order, he decided to punish me in the worst possible way- by casting me out."

He took a hard swig of his drink and made a small noise after. The tension in the room was building and I could feel this mans anger, it radiated off of him. I took a gulp of my own drink, it stung cooly as it fell down my throat. He had already began speaking again.

"I wasn't the first to be abandoned. Another man I know, he had evacuated a whole church and village all by himself after the rest of his men aimlessly ran towards the enemy in hope of a butchering. But this bravery was seen as cowardice and so they carted him off, stripped all of his titles, all of his glory. He had served under a different regiment and yet his superiors were still the same, ugly fascists who I had become so familiar with. They sent him back here, after all of the horrors he had witnessed and told him to adjust to everyday life. They refused all help. From then on, we decided that we'd send a message to those god-damn superiors. We'd show them, how we never, ever leave and we vowed to give the emotional trauma to all the other bastards who served under the pigs." He practically spat the words out, hissing them.

"Two bad superiors, that shouldn't be the kick-start to a war on all members and ex-members of the army." I said, my voice strong.

"Your loyalty does you credit, Doctor Watson. But do you know the fate that had originally been intended? For the soldiers like me and my friend? ...Execution. Those glorified killers who act all high and noble willing to murder their own. Fucking dispicable."

"But isn't that exactly what you're doing? You attacked me. You killed another. What makes you think that violence is going to stop it?"

"You were sent away because you were no use to them anymore. Cast out, after taking a bullet for them. We tried doing this peacefully. We sent letter after letter, but were ignored. We filed complaints, they were disposed of. More and more men were being sent back to this hellhole, forced to adapt or to be executed. They don't care for us. What sort of life is that? I'm doing them a kindness. I'm taking away their pain."

"That's why you injected Meth." I concluded.

"Exactly. That's all we want. To make good of the wrongs they have caused. We will have our own force, an army of invincibles, how can they ignore us any longer? We will protect the poor souls who are waiting to be cast out. We will take them down."

"You can't convert people. That's not how it works. No matter how wrong they were, you can't just cast aside all loyalty you have for them. It's sickening that they're capable of that, but we joined up knowing that this was part of it. They court marshalled people in the World Wars for christ sake! War is a cruelty, yet we willing exposed ourselves to it. So whatever you're trying to play, with your Meth army, it won't work. They're too strong." I sounded dismissive. Though I was no Sherlock, I assumed that the attacks like mine and Jacquelines were a kind of backwards recruitment. They would strike us and scare us, inject us so we felt invincible and hopefully get us on side, if not then..

"You killed Jacqueline because she wouldn't co-operate?" I asked, disgusted.

"She was of no use to us. She swore blind faith to them, she had no measurable talent and she was weak. You on the other hand, will be of great use to us."

"Not bloody likely." I stood up, leaving the booth and venturing for the door. The bodyguards had entered the room though and seized me before I had had the chance to leave. The man stood up slowly and pulled something out of his pocket. It looked sharp and his thumb rested on the end of it, with his index and middle finger holding the front of it- a syringe. He moved towards me slowly and carefully, every step seemed to thud against the floor and I struggled against the animals who gripped me.

"You're going to need us, Doctor Watson. Afterall, addiction is a hard thing to beat.. alone." His voice was menacing and he thrust the needle into my arm, which was outstretched by the same bouncer who had lead me in.

The whole room went spinning and I couldn't see where I was going. They pushed me forward and I think I landed on one of the booths. I could feel myself flitting in and out of unconsciousness. I was screaming at myself to get up and fight them, to fight off the effect. The numbness was spreading through me rapidly and I knew that they'd injected me with Meth again. I coughed harshly, my head throbbing with confusion and then everything went black as I felt my head lowering towards the cushioning of the booth.