Authors Notes:
"Sabotage" - Beastie Boys
And thus, Mayor Hancock is born!
This was one of the easiest chapters to write in a good long while. Blood and gore (and sex) is just so much easier to write than plot points and character development and crap.
"Oh, Vic!" Magnolia giggled.
I wanted to vomit. Part of me had prepared for this, had known we'd have to convince the bastard to mingle with the riff-raff one way or another. Hell, Magnolia had offered to oust the man from his ivory tower. Part of me was revolted that I'd had to agree to let the fucker manhandle a teenager.
The thought brought back some unpleasant memories.
"Please say you'll join us?" Her voice echoed down the hall. "We all just wanted to show you how appreciative we were and... well, what better way?"
The silence was damn near unbearable; I could hear my blood pumping through my veins, each creak and groan from the building around me. Even the wind blowing around outside was near deafening.
"Sure, doll." His voice was deep and heavy, "Whatever you want."
The adrenaline that surged through me roared in my ears, drowning out whatever Magnolia said next. I made my way out the building, feeling my coat billow behind me. My shotgun nestled against my back as the crowd in the alley waited for me. I grinned and nodded. Immediately the tension broke as the drifters and outcasts that had been bullied and destroyed and victimized for so long gave a small, quiet celebratory cheer.
"Time to prepare." I grinned, watching as they all went to their separate designated places.
I looked down at my pocket watch and growled. Magnolia looked up into the rafters of the building again, shaking her head and shrugging.
She didn't know exactly where we were, but she knew we were up there. The crowd below had become stupid with drugs and alcohol and lust. The women moving about them made sure they were stocked up, made sure they kept consuming. Made sure they were too preoccupied with their basest needs and desires to worry about anything else.
And the fuckers were too full of themselves to suspect anything.
A woman in the rafter across from me shifted, looking down then meeting my gaze.
Now? She asked.
I shook my head. We still had to hear back from our runner, a lithe young boy I'd sent to go see Vic in the State House. I gazed on the crowd. Vic's lackey's were starting to really feel the effects of their party, the men that had been strategically placed amongst the prey to keep from drawing suspicion were obviously far more sober, purposely acting out drunkenness. I tightened my grip on my shot gun, anger coursing through me as I caught sight of that fucking woman with her goddamned sword.
I was going to kill her. She was going to be my first victim. I looked at the people scattered across from me, beside me. I was surrounded, for the first time, by people who supported me. By people who believed in me. I looked at my watch again. In three minutes, if the kid hadn't given us word by then, we'd act. Noise below caught my attention. I swiveled my head.
A man had started getting rough with one of the girls. A quick flash of metal in the electric lighting and he slumped over her. Only those nearest showed any curiosity but my mind and heart were racing. It wouldn't take long for anyone to see the blood staining her flannel shirt and jeans, even faster to spread would be their anger and violence. I looked across and nodded. My people, my army, my revolutionaries, lined up just as those nearest the young woman began to comprehend.
I raised my arm as the closest man stood, his face twisting in anger. He was yelling at her though I couldn't hear over the cacophony of noise. I lowered my hand, bringing it to the stock of my shotgun and firing. The volley of weapons going off was a deafening roar as my people ran for cover, for the doors. Screams filled the air, the scent of blood was suffocating. Bodies fell, tables splintered, glass broke and lights were shot out. My beautiful, brazen barmaids were levelling what was left when the young man ran in, looking up at us- at me.
"He's too stoned to get down here!" The kid yelled, balking at coming in.
The horror of the scene before him was belied by his growing pallor, he backed a couple steps out the door.
I turned on a heel, hesitated, then swung down from the rafters, landing amidst the bodies and carnage with a wet thud. I felt the blood and gore splatter onto me, staining my face, my hat... I didn't care. I strode through what was left of the battle knowing it would be over soon. We had all but won. There was just one more man to hold accountable, one more man to meet his end at vigilante justice. I was going to ensure he paid for his sins. I strode out the door, ignoring the trail of blood that followed. I put a hand on the State House knob and hesitated. He probably had guards posted inside still. I popped the ejector, checking my ammo. Two bullets. I pat my pocket, checking to be sure I had more. My hand went to my back holster, the rifle was there. I could feel the unfamiliar weight of the handgun at my hip, and I knew my knife was in my left pants pocket where I always kept it.
"Ready?"
The whisper from behind made me flip, gun loaded and aimed. I took a deep steadying breath at their angry, confused, scared faces.
"I didn't know you'd followed me."
The guy in front looked to the people behind him, the back at me, "Of course we're following you."
As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if I had deserved their allegiance. As if I... as if I were a leader. Their leader. I stood straighter, nodding.
"Good." I pat my gun, and grinned looking out at them.
Covered in blood and viscera the four who followed me looked as though Hell itself had spat out its demons and sent them to exact revenge upon an unrighteous world. It was terrifying, it was empowering. I could feel their feelings; their anger, their sorrows, their hurts, their righteousness, flooding into me and around me. They were becoming a part of what I was. The high was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before.
I didn't even have to think about it to know I'd gladly kill to feel like this for the rest of my life; needed, important. Wanted.
"Time to storm the castle." I growled as we kicked the doors open.
Three men stood at the stairs leading up, hesitating only in shock and terror at the sight of us. Blood covered warriors led by a man in a red frock.
"Boo." I smiled, popping off two rounds.
Two of the men fell, I could hear the shouts from upstairs and Vic's voice booming down to us. The men around me fanned out as the guards converged on the spot. At least twenty of them flooded the doorways, coming form up and down the stairs like molerats from their burrows. I wasted my bullets, most of them finding their target, some of them going stray. I pulled out my handgun, cornering three men behind a doorway as the four other men at my back covered me. I dashed for the stairs, knowing that the battle below was still raging.
A man ran down the stairs, an iron bar raised in his fist. I dodged his clumsy blow easily, raising my gun and firing the last two bullets into his head, blinking as his brain sprayed out behind him, painting the wall. I covered the rest of the stairs in record time, looking around for something...
Yes! My mind worked as I grabbed at the flag hanging beside the doors to Vic's quarters, ripping it off the rope it was held onto.
I tied the flag around my waist. I'd figure out what to do with it later. I bundled the rope around my arm, three of the four men who had followed me in tromped up the stairs behind me, the fire in their eyes even brighter; thirsty for revenge for their newly lost brother in arms. The biggest of us dashed forward, breaking down the door to the room Vic had locked himself in. As the doors flew open with relative ease we were, for the first time, introduce to the atmosphere Vic had treated himself to.
The sight of the room had us frozen for a minute. Every luxury in the modern world was at his disposal; books, fine china, electricity, an actual bed that was ginormous and clean. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, sparking off rainbows of light as it settled back into a stationary setting.
"So you're here." Vic's voice was bored, dull.
I pulled myself up to my full height of 5'11". Not very impressive compared to his 6'4". It was like comparing a wolf to a bear. We all know who would have won in a fight.
"You will answer for your crimes against the people of Goodneighbor, Vic." I spat.
"Oh?" He seemed amused, turning a cold, glinting eye towards me, his face curved up into a wide grin. "And you'll be the one makin' me pay, huh McDonough." He spread his hands wide, "C'mon. I watched you grow up. I'm sure we can work out a deal. Come to an... understanding?"
He pushed forward a suitcase, old and weathered. It looked almost blasphemous in that room. I warily stepped towards it, popping the latches. Inside were more chems and caps than I had ever seen in one place ever. Anger coursed through me, hot and vile.
"It's Hancock now, actually."
I closed the suitcase and lunged forward, wrapping the rope around his hands before he knew what to do. The other three pounced on him as well, securing his feet and torso. We carried him like a stuck pig to the french doors that led out to the balcony. The men behind me gave a shout as we bashed the doors open with Vic's head. The man wasn't fighting us, in fact he seemed nearly bored with the whole event.
"Oh my God!" A woman's voice screeched as she looked up at the noise, seeing us.
In seconds the crowd grew from a handful to nearly the entire damn town. Even a few of Vic's men who had been stuck with gate duty had come to see what the fuss was about. The men beside me looked to me, the blood that had covered them was dried now, flaking off to reveal normal skin behind the gore and horror we had committed. I was unable to bring myself to feel guilty for it.
"Speak you idiot." Vic's voice broke through my stupor. "If you're going to kill me, do it with some flair you fuckwad."
My mind hitched, tripping over all the things I should say and all the things I wanted to say.
I kicked a leg up on the banister, raising my arm high.
"OF THE PEOPLE, FOR THE PEOPLE!" I declared as the three men launched Vic's body off the banister.
They screamed and cheered below me as Vic hung, the loss of his life marked by the release of his bowels and the faint twitching of impulses with nowhere left to go and nothing to control them. I scanned the crowd, noticing the men that had worked for Vic were now gone, disappearing with their lives instead of dying with their master.
I turned away from the crowd, at a loss. The three men with me were grinning with relief, one clasped me on the shoulder.
"Welcome to Goodneighbor, Mayor Hancock. We're glad to be here with you."