Tires screeched to a halt right outside Banshee Sheriff's Department building. Not caring about parking in between the lines or the lack of police cruisers, Alison removed the key from the ignition and exited her car. She barely heard Lena call out to her from her place in the passenger seat as she took unwavering strides into the building. Inside, there seemed to be no one around. She did not care for that either. She already knew her path. Her strides took her to the stairs that led to the Sheriff's office. A quick glance at the window indicated his presence. Good. This would have only been the first place she looked for him. The next would have been in the cluster in the middle of town. The turnout was more than she had hoped for. Nevertheless, right now, she could not focus on it. Not when…
Without knocking, Alison opened the door to the office. Apparently, she had interrupted a conversation. Both the Sheriff and the Mayor turned their eyes to her. Probably still not over yesterday's over the phone argument, Gordon glared at her. As though everything bad that happened in Banshee stemmed from her alone. Alison ignored it. She was not surprised to see Gordon and Lucas meeting like this. The town was probably only minutes away from turning into a battlefield, after all. Talking, however, would not stall it. Then she noticed another in the far left corner of the room.
With her arms crossed, a woman with long dark hair and darker eyes stared back at her. She wore a tan uniform, looking very much like a police authority. The small nameplate pinned to her shirt said King. This woman was not familiar to Alison. However, she recognized the uniform of the Kinaho Police. She could only assume that the Sheriff called for backup from neighboring districts. Or maybe just the one since this was the only body with a different uniform. The woman said nothing in acknowledgement. Just continued staring as though assessing the new arrival. Alison did the same out of habit. Really, another body did not matter in the grand scheme of things.
"Alison…?" Gordon was the first to break the silence. "What are you doing here? You haven't done enough yet?"
Ignoring the mild sarcasm, Alison stepped further into the room. "Kurt is missing," she announced, drawing the room's occupants to her. "He went out about forty-five minutes ago to get a charger from my car. He did not come back. I found my keys nearby but I didn't find him. There was no blood, but I think… I'm sure he's been taken. He would have come back otherwise." Her words effectively shifted the tension in the room. She had not said it aloud until this moment. Kurt had been taken. Jesus Christ. They had gotten too confident because they had not been assaulted at night. They had believed these monsters had not been watching the house. And now Kurt was gone.
"Well, isn't that fucking perfect," Lucas grumbled. "Was the consequences of your actions too fast for your liking?" Alison refrained from rolling her eyes. She could argue the true harbingers of this clash but that would be wasting time. Time spent trying to locate Kurt. Still, she knew she had fucked up. She should have gone with him. At least that way, he would have had a chance. She was worried and angry, but… Kurt had told her that a common tactic was to grab the guy and make her watch. They wanted her, too. For now, that might have been the only thing keeping him alive. "You should have just listened to me—both of you."
"I did not come here to get reprimanded again," Alison said. "I came here to see if his boss might want to find him. Or do you intend to not look for him because you're too busy being petty?" Mildly contrite, the Sheriff glanced down at his desk. "I meant what I said yesterday. This role that you've become accustomed to—I don't need it. What I need is the man that went against a small army to get back his friends. Are you going to give him to me now?"
"Alison…" Lucas muttered.
"That sounds like a no."
"Would you calm the fuck down? It's not a no," Lucas retorted. He rubbed his forehead. "You're not giving me a lot of time to think of something."
"The time for thinking is long past," Alison stated. "And so is talking."
"What exactly are you planning to do, Alison?" Gordon questioned. "I understand he's your… partner, but you are a civilian at the end of the day. You do not have to go so far for him."
"Gordon, your input is not needed unless you wish to provide your physical skillset," Alison told him. Effectively snubbed, her friend shut his mouth. Of course, she didn't need to go after him. Most likely, it would be enough just to alert the authorities of his disappearance. Despite the reluctant show the Sheriff put on, he would no doubt go after one of his subordinates. However, Alison wanted to go far. She would be willing to go as far as necessary for Kurt Bunker. He had done the same for her. "What I'm planning is to give the Sheriff's Department everything I can to help find Kurt." A lie. Well, a half-truth. "Do you want my official statement now or later?"
The Sheriff made a face, probably not falling for the bullshit, but he wasn't going to call her out on it. Perhaps he was tired of it when she would only brush aside his scolding. Gordon, too, seemed suspicious with her so-called plan. He should be suspicious. She would not stop until Kurt returned to her side. And if he could not return, may whatever god listening have mercy on The Brotherhood. She certainly would not. "As far as I can tell, most of them are gathered together," Lucas stated. "So far, none of my deputies have reported to seeing Calvin's face. Or Maggie's. So, they must be in hiding elsewhere. I already have Job looking into smaller clusters to see if we can get their whereabouts. Most likely, Bunker is in the same location."
"And how many smaller clusters are there?" Alison questioned.
"Five…" Lucas admitted.
"That's four too many," Alison said, inwardly panicking. While searching through four other locations, Kurt could be going through torture. She clenched her teeth, hoping Calvin would not resort to fire again. No. No. She had to believe they would not do anything to him until she could be made to watch it all happen. Please. "Why do you think there are smaller clusters in the first place?"
"Best guess: They're either protecting assets or these smaller groups are leaders within their gang," the dark-haired woman spoke up. "Sheriff Aimee King, by the way. When I took down the Redbones on the Reservation, I ran into this problem myself. They threw grunts at us, distracting us from the leaders. My team and I took them down one by one before facing the bulk. Since this is on a larger scale, we don't have that luxury. These gang leaders will have to be taken down almost simultaneously with the horde. So additional orders can't be given."
"The horde itself is the distraction, so we won't focus on them," Lucas mentioned. "Already, Raven called for all units to the plaza because he thinks they're about to make their move. I've learned to trust the guy's gut. We had no choice but to redirect our presence to protect the civilians. But… considering Bunker might be in their midst, we have to rethink our strategy to, at least, get him back."
"How exactly is Job tracking them?" Gordon asked. "How does he know where they are?"
The Sheriff pursed his lips. Ah. Right. Job was a hacker. Probably did not track the group using legal methods. "Is Job here right now?" Alison inquired, saving Lucas from answering that question. The Sheriff gave a curt nod. Already knowing where he would be in this building, Alison immediately turned and headed out of the office. She heard both Lucas and Gordon call after her, but she was already set in her next action. The hacker that Job was might be able to give a precise location to Kurt's whereabouts. How? She had no clue. She, too, wondered how the man had been able to give a number to this gang. Not to mention knowing about the other locations in the first place. Potentially, he could be the answer in finding Kurt.
Before she could make her way down to the basement, Alison felt fingers encircle her left bicep. She turned sharply to meet the disgruntled eyes of Gordon Hopewell. Clearly, he was nonplussed about this entire circumstance. Though he had been the first to know, he had remained baffled by her behavior. Alison stopped herself from huffing in annoyance. She snatched back her arm, though. Unspeaking, she raised a brow and waited for him to explain why he had stopped her. Gordon sighed through his nose, appearing distinctly uncomfortable. However, he finally opened his mouth.
"I've got your back," he said. Alison's lips parted, completely surprised. Gordon blinked once, and then looked around as though realizing he should be paying attention to any eavesdroppers. There were none, so he fixed his gaze back on her. "I mean it. I hate that this situation escalated so badly. I still think it could have been prevented with different choices from everyone involved. But we're here now, so for the moment, I'll forget that I'm Mayor to this town again. You're the only one who had the balls to shove me out of my miserable state. The only one who got me back on track after I went too far. I…" He sighed then. Heavy. "I'll do what I can to help you get him back. He did the same for me with Carrie. I figure I owe both of you at this point."
"… Thank you, Gordon," Alison replied softly. "I appreciate it." Gordon solemnly nodded his head. She knew that he served in the US Marine Corps, but it had been Kurt's retelling of their rescue a few years ago that had cemented how dangerous the Mayor of Banshee could be. His skillset would be necessary wherever his placement. The way Kurt told her, he would be best up high with the perfect scope. Hm. Something to think about, especially since he seemed serious in his declaration. "Whatever happens today, I want you to know that you've been a good friend to me."
"You've been an even better one for me," Gordon said. "It's time I return that."
"… Did I ever tell you about the time I told your wife you were like a sister to me?" Alison asked. Annoyed now, Gordon huffed and turned to go back upstairs. Slightly amused, Alison continued her path down to the basement. What little humor she found had faded as she descended the steps. She had briefly visited this area before but she saw the tech room. Quickly finding it, she spied Job inside at a desk with multiple monitors. The Asian man rapidly typed on a small keyboard with one hand. The other hand quickly tapped against a touch screen of a monitor. He wore a platinum blonde wig, styled in pompadour. The rest of his outfit seemed tame in comparison to the other outfits he usually sported. Nothing hung off him, which was good for his safety. Job seemed to know what exactly what would happen soon.
"Motherfucka, I told you I am working as fast as I can," he suddenly spoke. This would only be the second conversation she had with the man, but Alison remembered the voice quite well. Just like before, he was agitated. With good reason both times, so she would not comment on his blatant discourtesy. More than likely, the comment had not been directed at her in the first place.
"Job," Alison greeted. The man froze, and then swiveled around in his chair. "How good it is to see you again."
"Oh, hell no!" he eloquently returned. Alison did not take that to heart either. Judging from his… hobby, he probably treated all figures of law enforcement with the same disdain. "I work here! What I'm doing is under the instruction of the damn Sheriff, so whatever you got to say needs to come equipped with a warrant."
"I am not here for anything like that," Alison informed him. The man narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips in suspicion. "With the way things are, I wouldn't be looking to prosecute, I assure you. I'm here because you might be the only person that could find Kurt."
"The sweet-Nazi…?" Job murmured. He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "He's missing?"
"He didn't return from getting a charger from my car," Alison explained. "I don't know how you're tracking the monsters that came to town, but I hope you can do the same with Kurt, so I can get him back."
"By yourself…?" Job questioned sardonically. He turned to his original position, and then slid across the floor to another desk. A laptop sat upon this desk. He immediately began pulling up various programs that Alison did not recognize. His fingers crossed the keypad in a seemingly random manner.
"Of course not," Alison said. "Carrie already promised me. My friend Lena. Gordon perhaps. And I'm sure Billy Raven would not hesitate. You're welcome to come as well if you'd like."
"I don't like the sweet-Nazi that much," Job said, not faltering in typing. "Let me guess: his former comrades took offense to that little speech last night?" Alison only sighed through her nose. "Of course, they did. Though, I'm sure it's much more than that speech that has their lot so ruffled. You and your baby's daddy brought war to this shithole of a town."
"Good," Alison retorted. She was tired of justifying her actions or shifting the cause to another party. Perhaps they had not started it. However, if they had never met in the diner and continued their tentative friendship, perhaps war would not have been pushed so extensively against Banshee and its citizens. But this was where they were now. The only option was to press forward. But somehow, right now, she couldn't care about it. Kurt had been captured, and the only thing she cared about was getting him back. If they happened to take out The Brotherhood's leader on the way, then great. Actually, she hoped they were in the same location.
"Hm…" Job seemed not to have a comment about that. "You said he was looking for a charger? For his cell phone?"
"Yes, is that going to be a problem? He told me it died mid-conversation with… with a friend of his."
"Maybe not," Job said. "Normally, in this day and age, people keep their cell phones on them or nearby at all times. I'm able to see the mass communication between cell phone numbers—area codes that come from outside of Banshee. That's how I can see the clusters. Whether it's text or an actual call, it links them together. I see the pattern and map it out. Your Nazi has a local area code and he doesn't actually communicate much with others. Not until recently at least. But, fortunately for him, I downloaded an app on his phone that can track his movements."
"I'm pretty sure he would not have allowed you to do that," Alison remarked.
"It's hidden, so he didn't know about it," Job stated unapologetically. "Anyone with a… close relationship with… Hood gets this treatment. A precaution. Besides, he didn't have a passcode, so it's his own fault." The court of law would not share that sentiment, but Alison decided not to mention that. "I didn't even realize he switched to a smart phone until recently. Lucky I did because I can track him."
"Even if the phone is dead?"
"It's an app of my own creation," Job said, pride slipping into his agitation. "As long as the sim card isn't destroyed, I can use it." Lucky, indeed. Alison would have to find and remove the app after this was done, though. "It'll take some time since the phone is dead, but I should be able to use another phone to power his on if they have not destroyed it…" He began mumbling at this point, but what Alison could make out was surprising. Hackers truly were dangerous.
"How long will it take to get his location?" Alison wondered.
"Less than ten minutes," Job told her matter of fact. Dangerous, indeed. But that gave her ample time to actually contact the rest. Here, she could probably find Billy's contact info. If not, she could hail him on the radio. He deserved to know about Kurt. Nodding to herself, Alison turned to leave the tech room. "It may not be relevant to you anymore…" Job's voice halted her movement. She returned her gaze to him. The man had not stopped looking at his laptop. "Considering how far fucking south things have gotten. But your address was found on Calvin's computer."
"What…?" Alison whispered.
"Came from some throwaway email address," Job continued, not bothering to repeat himself. "About a week ago, right before all this shit went down. Your picture and your address. My take is that the racist missus read the email and told those bastards that came to your house." Alison did not realize she had held her breath as Job spoke. Until her chest began aching. "The source came from an IP address at one of the Savoys. Not everyone knows, but that business is a hub for information gathering, so it's not a surprise they managed to get your address."
"You…" Alison shook her head and swallowed hard. "You're saying Rebecca Bowman gave my information to Nazis..." She could practically feel every single emotion recede. Every emotion accept red-hot anger. Finally, Job stopped focusing on his laptop. His dark eyes turned her way. Unreadable for the most part. "She's the reason my family…"
"Can't prove that it was her fingers that stirred the pot, but… Somebody else may have a grudge against you," Job said. "And they might not have the tattoos to give them away."
Alison clenched her teeth. She felt her fingers curl tightly in her palms. Her nails dug deep. Rebecca Bowman. How is your daughter doing? Alison clearly remembered that conversation with the self-righteous niece of Kai Proctor. It would be quite the shame... She had said those words. That all depends on your actions, doesn't it? Alison remembered the words. She also remembered the self-satisfied smile of her red lips. Could she have truly…? Alison breathed out through clenched teeth. No. It would be too much of a coincidence if it had not been her doing. Rebecca had been responsible for those monsters in her home. Responsible for the gun in her baby's face. Responsible for nearly losing everyone Alison had come to love.
Jesus Christ. As though she didn't already have enough to get angry about. Would she have to do something about Rebecca as well? What had been the motivation? A week ago. What exactly happened a week ago that triggered Rebecca to-? Alison found herself flinching. Mark Franklin. One of her puppets. She had forced him out of office and he had disappeared right after. That had been Rebecca's reason. What a childish reason. Alison shut her eyes, willing the anger to fade. The younger woman was not the priority now. She had to conserve her energy and focus on the physical threat. For now.
"Thanks," Alison eventually said opening her eyes. "I'll keep that in mind." She turned to leave again. "I'll be back for that location." Without waiting for a response, she took her leave. Still, she could not completely stop thinking about it. Even as she pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans. Even as she scrolled through her contacts. As she dialed Carrie's cell phone number, she had to stop halfway up the stairs, feeling the burn in her chest. Damn it. She needed a distraction. Fortunately, Carrie picked up after two rings.
"Alison-fucking-Medding," she greeted. Alison blinked, truly not expecting that type of greeting. Already thoroughly distracted, she could not form a response to that. "Do you know what you've done?" From the rustling noise, it sounded as though Carrie moved around in a hurried manner. "Gordon nearly had an aneurysm last night when he ranted about your big speech."
"Are you going to rant to me, too?" Alison asked, frowning.
"No," Carrie said. It sounded like she was smiling. "Gordon left early this morning to have a meeting with… with Hood about the spectacle downtown. I took the kids to their grandparents, which Deva was terribly upset about, so they'll be out of the way. Got a text from Gordon a few minutes ago to get ready." A vehicle door shut in the background. "So, I am ready and on my way."
"On your way? I haven't even asked you."
"No need to ask. I was waiting for this challenge," Carrie stated. "Definitely better than stealing a video from a DA's computer." Alison rolled her eyes. Didn't like it, her ass. She was sure Gordon's get ready had not meant come in guns blazing. But that seemed like a marital spat for a different time. "Doing all this… You've got more balls than most men."
"Carrie," Alison said. "They have Kurt." She sensed Carrie's enthusiasm fade. Her tone lowered as she asked if she was okay. Alison sighed lightly. "No. I… I need to get him back. Job's trying to locate him now. So, I don't need you in the center of downtown, having your fun punching Nazis. I need you to back me up when I-"
"Alison, of course," Carrie interrupted.
"Thank you," she replied with the same sincerity that she had shown Carrie's husband. She pressed her lips together. "Hope Gordon won't be too mad I got you involved in this."
"He'll deal," Carrie assured her. "It's not the first time I've ever rushed headlong into danger. Just tell me where I need to be."
"I'll text you when I can."
The two women said their see you laters and disconnected the call. Three down. Perhaps she just needed one more. "Ah, right. Lena," Alison murmured. She wondered why her friend had not come in yet. It wasn't like her to sit idle. Breathing in deeply, Alison continued her way up the stairs. She did not stop walking until she reached the exit. Lena remained in the passenger seat but she seemed hunched over. Opening the door, Alison slipped her phone back into her pocket. She came to a stop on the right side of her car and knocked on the window.
Lena only glanced her way before returning her full attention to the phone in her hand. Upon closer inspection, Alison saw the video playing. Frowning, she opened the passenger side door. "Look at this," Lena told her without preamble. She shoved the phone towards Alison. The video was news coverage, reporting on the protest. As the reporter spoke, the camera panned on the gathered citizens and members of The Brotherhood. Even from here, she could hear the rumbling now that she actively paid attention. The faces in the crowd seemed more and more agitated. This standstill would not last for a few days. Hell, it looked as though it would not last another hour. "I know there's no stopping what comes next, Alison… But was this truly the only option? So many people can die today."
Alison knew that already. However, what else could she have done? Anything else would have been a Band-Aid. Not a permanent fix. Now, Kurt was gone. Not at all a part of the plan. Therefore, this clash downtown seemed on a lower priority than anticipated. "Come inside, Lena," Alison said, not bothering to respond to the question. She felt done answering questions and wasting time on rebukes. What would happen would happen. They would have to live with the consequences.
Whatever they may be.
0-0
A sharp crack seemingly echoed through the crowd, startling onlookers and protestors alike. The shouting stopped. An abrupt hush fell over the crowd as people attempted to discern the source of the noise. Then the body dropped. An older man who worked part-time at the local ice cream parlor. His blood spattered on those behind him. It was only after the man had fallen to his knees, bleeding from his gut, had someone in the crowd screamed. The single scream continued the ripple. The tattooed men advanced forward, ignoring the police's loud orders to halt. They removed hidden weapons, gripped lead pipes, and swung around metal chains. Panicked, the civilians began to retreat.
"This is your last warning! Drop your weapons!"
The demand, amplified by the mega phone, was ignored. The Brotherhood continued to advance. Arms raised, they brought them down hard and fast on the people. Officers and deputies immediately moved in between them, defending against the strikes. A few pulled out their guns instead of expandable batons. With a vicious roar, The Brotherhood increased their efforts and struck harder. More shots rang out. The crowd drew further back as more bodies fell to the ground. Outnumbered, the police were overwhelmed. Then someone threw an axe. A war axe impaled a man right before he could pull the trigger of his pistol. He staggered, shouting out his pain and grabbing his bleeding shoulder.
A low chanting began. Foreign words swept through the crowd of civilians. The chanting grew louder, overtaking the sounds of panic. Men and women lifted their own weapons. Tomahawks. Clubs made of wood and stone. Spears. The chanting stopped. Only to be replaced by a riotous cry. No retreating, Native Americans launched their counter.
On the nearby rooftops, several men drew back the sturdy string of their bows.
And fired.
Their arrows sank deep into flesh and struck down the tattooed men.
A couple of Neo-Nazis chased one young man, Amish, down a secluded alleyway. Reaching a dead end, he turned to face his chasers. They clenched their teeth, showing malicious smiles. They did not see two women of Asian descent behind them. With hard wooden planks, they bashed the back of their heads. Several times. Until the blood soaked their shirts and dripped from their faces. Until the tattooed men stopped moving. Then they spoke in their native tongue, gesturing for the younger man. He did not need to understand the words to reach for their hands.
Three tattooed men worked together to kick and maliciously beat a couple. They had been caught fleeing while holding hands. Dark and light. Men. They had to be punished for their non-Christian ways. They had to be punished for being pillow-biters. They had to be punished. And so, they set about breaking their bodies in the midst of chaos all around. A lead pipe smashed against their innocent hands so they could never hold each other again. Their screams were lost in the crowd.
One of them managed to get his arm around a warrior of the Kinaho tribe. He dragged her backwards as she wheezed and attempted to pry the meaty arm from her throat. With his other arm, he had pinned her arm behind her back. Her axe had fallen, clattering against the cement. Stumbling she could not get a proper stance. Then the man stopped, seemingly gargling. Twisting her head, she looked back to see blood spilling from his mouth. Eyes wide, the man's hold on her loosened. Quickly, she jerked away from him as his body crumbled to the ground. From the back of his neck, another man ripped a sword from flesh. Keeping her eyes on him, she moved backwards, patting the ground for her axe. Upon finding it, she gripped the weapon before flinging it directly behind the one that saved her.
It nailed the Nazi directly between the eyes. The sword-wielding man whirled around to see the damage. The Nazi screamed, hands moving to grab the hilt. The man scoffed lightly before pulling a pistol from the waistband of his jeans. With two shots, he ended the Nazi's life. The corpse fell over and the woman approached. She yanked her axe from his face before looking at the swordsman. The two nodded at one another before carrying on.
A group of Nazis took turns bashing the unconscious form of a middle-aged white man who had the nerve to protect a young black woman from danger.
Having had enough, a veteran whipped out his meticulously cared for butterfly knife. The Nazi behind him did not expect the tackle or the blade sliding so easily into his chest. He groaned loudly as blood gushed from the wound. "You stupid-" The blade tore from the body only to plunge back in. Deeper than before. "-evil-" Stab. "-filthy-" Stab. Stab. "-ignorant, racist piece of shit!" He continued to stab with tears in his eyes.
"But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house," Solomon Bowman intoned without empathy. Clay Burton stood beside the boy just as stoic. He watched as the younger sibling fell to one knee, tilting his head to the side. On Solomon's shoulder, he held an RPG-7. He stared through the scope, unwavering. "-he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." He pulled the trigger, launching the rocket straight into the building, which held the dead or dying. The building exploded loudly with smoke and fire, made much more by the gasoline that drenched the place. Another sanctuary of Nazis turned to their personal Hell.
"Calvin was not here either," Clay said, slipping his glasses back on his face. "Shall we go to the next?"
0-0
Kurt gritted his teeth, testing the bindings around his wrists. Metal nearly bit into his skin. But he felt confident that he could wrap his fingers around the chains that connected to the ceiling. Also, he was not far from the floor. With a good opening and maybe a distraction, he might be able to get himself out of this. Well, he needed more information first. At the moment, he did not know exactly where he had been taken. From his vantage point, nothing looked familiar. A wide-open room with one entry at the far corner. Windows were high from the ground. But some of them were broken. Since the space was so big, he could only assume that something had occupied it originally. It could mean that this building was abandoned. Well, that was the MO.
Sighing softly, Kurt eyed the two men near the door. They clearly stood on watch. Calvin and Maggie had left only a few minutes ago. For now, there was no telling how many subordinates lied elsewhere. If he could recall correctly, there was usually one lieutenant in charge of an operation. In addition to the handful of others that waited for orders. However, this was Calvin, and his closest lieutenant had died. On top of that, this particular operation—having a traitor strung up—would be treated as a spectacle. A lot more of his former brothers could be here, or on the way, to watch what happens when a traitor returns home.
Honestly, he was surprised Calvin had not already ordered for his beating. Even a few punches would have been the norm. But he had not. Other than the initial jostle upon bringing him here, Kurt was relatively without injury. He wondered what Calvin waited for. And why the abrupt end of an interrogation of Hank's whereabouts. Soon after that phone call to 'bring Banshee to a heel,' he and his wife had left. It was odd. Not that Kurt wished for the beating. For now, he had to wait for an opportunity. And pray that Alison would not foolhardily rush to his aide without aide of her own. They were never supposed to do any of this alone. Neither of them were supposed to be caught like this, though. He hoped she could keep a level head. If it had been her taken, he certainly would not have kept calm.
Suddenly, the door opened, causing Kurt to lift his gaze from the floor. Calvin walked in, looking as grim as when he had left. "Get the fuck out," he ordered without glancing at the two. Without a word, they left and shut the door behind them. For now, his eyes did not glance at Kurt either. Instead, Calvin focused on an adjacent wall. He grabbed a rusted metal stool and brought it closer. He made a show of sitting down before he finally raised his gaze to meet Kurt's. For a moment, brothers merely stared back at one another, allowing the silence to extend. Kurt only blinked slowly, not caring either way. If Calvin wanted to drag this out, then so be it. "Well…? Where is he?" Unfortunately, the silence did not last. "What did you do with my son?"
"Your son…?" Kurt repeated. "So you did all this… to get your son back? Ready to take on the whole of Banshee for a little boy you didn't care two shits about when it came to your profit? Your power? Why should I tell you a damn thing about his whereabouts?"
"You are messing with my family," Calvin said, dropping the calm act. "Do you have any idea what I'll fucking do to you for that?"
"I imagine it's something less violent for what I'm going to do to you for messing with mine," Kurt snapped back. "My partner. My daughter." He swallowed hard but it did little in stifling the anger that bubbled within. "You're the one who went too far." Calvin huffed a laugh. Bitter and ugly.
"That's… That's real rich coming from a guy who used to hate niggers more than anyone," he said. "You've really made yourself believe that you've changed. It's real funny how delusional you've become. You put on this uniform. You think you can just start over after The Brotherhood. You think you know what it's like to be a father." Calvin shook his head. "To a half-breed and her niggress mother. You've lost your way, big brother."
"I lost my way...?" Kurt said. "I lost my way because I decided to stop hating and judging strangers who don't look like me? I lost my way because I fell in love? I lost my way because I became a father to the most beautiful, smart, playful little kid in the world? That's what you call losing my way?" He sighed heavily. "I found my way, Calvin. It sounds to me like you're jealous that it wasn't with you."
"Jealous? Jealous?! Why the fuck would I be jealous that you roll around in the dirt?!" Calvin raised his voice, obviously irritated by the mere suggestion. "I can't believe just how far you've fallen." He scoffed and shook his head. "If only Watts could see you now. Would he still think you're the better brother?"
"While we're on the subject… Where is Watts?"
"… Watts is dead."
"You killed him then?"
"This faction can't have two leaders."
He said it so nonchalantly. Randall Watts, admittedly, had a hand in shaping them both. Twisted them further—harder—to make them more acclimated to the lifestyle. Monsters without remorse for those who happened to be born darker. The man had spent a lot of time and energy molding them into his predecessors. And they had foolishly embraced it. With their own inadequate father—and the loss of Mr. Miller for himself—Kurt realized how much influence the man had over them both. Deep and long enough to form a bond. He might as well have been their replacement father. For a time. And now, Calvin shrugged off dealing that blow. Perhaps at the end, he had not cared anymore. Or had gotten fed up with the treatment.
Calvin licked his lips and shook his head again. "You used to be one of us," he continued, apparently done with the subject of Watts. "You used to be the best of us. Hell, everyone admired you. Respected you. Me? I knew that you could never be a leader, but I still…" He trailed off, eyes shifting elsewhere. "Now, look at you. Wasted potential. Throwing away everything that made you greater than the rest. Throwing away your history. Your respect. All for nothing."
"What do you want, Calvin?" Kurt growled out, tired with the implications. The chains clinked together as his fists balled. "It can't be all for Hank. No. None of this is like you. So, isn't it you that's lost his way? I mean, what the hell do you think is going to happen from assaulting an entire town?"
"Revolution, Kurt!" Calvin erupted with a snarl. Kurt had never looked at his brother in such disgust before. Apparently, he had become a mirror because Calvin screamed his own shortcomings at him. Between the two of them, he had become the delusional one. "God! It's what we've always wanted—always talked about! You could have been a part of it! Your actions could have meant something. Gaining the power to make a difference."
"Are… Are you dumb?" Kurt found himself blurting. "You gain the power the change things—you make them better! Not worse! How is this better for any of us?!"
"Any of us," Calvin echoed. "You're not a part of us anymore, Kurt! Not since you've tainted yourself—tainted our family! My only interest is in pureblooded Americans now! To hell with the rest!"
"Pureblood-" Kurt halted his incredulity and sighed. He had had the same mindset. So goddamn self-assured that they were pureblooded. Because of their light eyes and pale skin. So damn embarrassing. Once, Alison pointed out that there were no such thing as a pureblooded American. Not anymore. The only people that could potentially claim that was descendants of Native Americans. And just for shits and giggles, she had gone to this website that traced families. Turns out, the Bunker line was seven percent African. Not exactly a big number but one-drop and whatnot. Alison had remained entertained for over an hour. A part of Kurt wanted to be petty so badly and tell his brother. But he refrained. After all, facts did not get through to people like him. "Either let me go or do what you gotta do," Kurt said once he composed himself. "But I'm not telling you shit about Hank."
"Do you realize the situation you're in? You don't get to fucking tell me to do anything!" Calvin stood up so fiercely that he knocked the metal stool over. "I am the leader here! I am The Brotherhood! And I can do whatever the fuck I want whenever the fuck I want!"
"You're an overgrown child, throwing a tantrum," Kurt retorted. The first punch to the gut surprised him more than it should have. The force of the impact rocked his body, causing him to swing. He was ready for the second. Calvin's fist flew at his face. Kurt smoothly turned his head to divert the damage instead of taking the full impact. The fist basically slipped off instead of shattering his cheekbone. It would still bruise, though. As though the blows had tired him, Calvin panted heavily. Slowly, Kurt returned his eyes to the leader of The Brotherhood. For surely this was not his brother. "… I should have taken you with me." The admission shocked them both. He had not meant to reveal it.
"What… What the fuck did you say?" Calvin whispered.
"It doesn't matter now. None of it matters now," Kurt said. He clenched his teeth and shut his eyes for a moment. "There's only one way this ends. And I'd rather die than to return Hank to his abusers. To return Hank to a life of hate. To have him turn into another version of you." For several long moments, Calvin only stared back at him, eyes mirroring the same intensity.
"Then die," he finally said. "But only when I say. When we find your nigger pet, maybe she'll be more agreeable… after, of course, I let the rest have a go at her." Unexpectedly, chuckles managed to slip through. Calvin narrowed his eyes at the complete lack of an expected reaction. "What the hell's so funny?"
"You're not gonna find her," Kurt told him. "She's gonna find you. Didn't you get the warning last night? Black Steel will come and she won't stop until she cuts you down. My partner doesn't like when her family is threatened. And now that includes me and Hank."
"You shut your fucking mouth!"
"Why? It's true. She loves him… and he loves her and his half-breed cousin. Your niece. Your blood." Maybe he could not hold back all the petty thoughts that entered his mind. Calvin socked him in the face once again. This time, he had drawn blood. Kurt only laughed, not minding the blood. He turned his head and spat on the floor. "Even if you were to get him back, it's not gonna be the same. Your boy… is one of us now." Familiar words. Different situation. Same result. He found himself laughing all over again. Calvin did not like that and hit him again. Then he abruptly turned and headed for the door.
Kurt's mirthless laugh followed after.
0-0
The door slammed shut behind him. Flushed with white-hot anger, Calvin could not shake his brother's words from his mind. Everything he had said managed to rile him up so viciously. No matter what he did, Kurt seemed too keen on not accepting any form of an olive branch. No. No one in The Brotherhood would have accepted him back in after everything. But if he had taken the damn branch, he might have been able to keep his life. But now that was impossible. Kurt was too far-gone. Their conversation only drove it home. Infuriating. Every exchange of words burned him up inside. How had his brother changed so drastically? It just did not make sense.
Traitors to the faction, in this capacity, tended to be weak. Not being able to stomach their own actions within the group. They second-guessed themselves. Doubted the cause. Wasn't confident in the methods. But Kurt had never struggled like that. The reason for his popularity in The Brotherhood dealt with how he had gone about things. More than anyone, he would do what needed to be done to show the group's superiority. In fact, after he had gotten his 'Fuck all yall' tattoo, Kurt had thrown himself into everything Brotherhood. He was an unfeeling monster and everyone fucking loved it. So, even now, it did not make sense that he would leave it all behind. To add insult to injury, he returned as a sympathizer and a nigger lover.
Calvin found himself scoffing as he moved down the hallway. He left behind two to guard the door. No one gets in or out without his say so, he told them. He tried to shake off his anger as he walked. The effort did little in quelling the raw emotion. However, underneath that, Calvin recognized the confusion. His brother—his former brother, he reminded himself—led a baffling existence. From his words to his actions. Calvin could not understand him anymore. It made him unpredictable. I should have taken you with me, he had said. For what? What had that meant? Where had he even gone? In the end, it did not really matter. None of it matters now.
However, the thoughts did not leave his mind. Calvin could not just think about Kurt, though. He had other things that needed attention. Like his revolution. By now, the citizens of Banshee should be cowering beneath their might. Right. Right. He still had the upper hand here. Kurt did not matter. Especially right now. This town would be his. His revolution. His power to change things. Only that mattered.
He walked into a space that could have been an office. This location lied on the outskirts of Banshee. An old paper mill left abandoned long before Calvin had entered the world. Most of today's population had forgotten its existence. No one on the police force would know about it. Proctor probably did not know about it. He only knew because he had actively looked for it in his youth. Before The Brotherhood, it had been his isolated sanctuary. Kurt probably had done the same, though they never shared each other's special place. Instead of staying home and wondering if their dad would lash out. It had been better to remain out of sight altogether. Maggie had known of this place, too, because he had told her.
Speaking of his wife, she had not turned to face him though she must have heard his approach. She had discarded her disguise a while ago. There was no need for it anymore since other matters effectively distracted the cops. Her blonde hair, out of confides of the dark wig, swayed a bit as she rocked side to side. She held her hand up to her ear. "Damn it," she hissed, sharply lowering her arm. She tossed the phone—his cell phone—on the old desk. Finally, Maggie turned to face him. She sighed, appearing thoroughly frustrated. "No one is picking up," she told him, corner of her lips dipping into a deep frown. "Right now, we're blind to what's happening in town."
"You really think they've been subdued by the police?" Calvin questioned.
"It'd still be nice to know," Maggie retorted. At his narrowed eyes, she lowered her chin, looking down at the floor. "Sorry," she said, meekly. "I've also tried the other strongholds… None of their leaders are answering the phone either. Right now, it just feels like we're sitting on our asses. Meanwhile, I still don't know where my child is… Unless Kurt has said something yet?"
"He won't say anything about Hank," Calvin said.
"Well, not without prompt, Calvin," Maggie said.
"Didn't I tell you not to worry about Hank?" Calvin questioned. His wife's mouth snapped shut. "We'll have him back when the time comes."
"When will that be?! I am his mother! I need-"
"You need-!" Calvin thundered. "To do nothing!" Maggie shrank away. "If you hadn't thrown yourself at the police and got arrested in the first place! No one told you to do that or kill two fucking cops, Maggie!" Rightfully contrite, she ducked her head. "I had a plan to keep you and Hank safe—all of us safe and you blew it. Now, our son is who knows where, surrounded by whatever degenerate—all legally, I might add—because you couldn't keep still!" Then a sudden thought struck him. Kurt's words came back like a slap. … return Hank to his abusers, he had said. He had thought nothing of it at the time, but… Why had Child Protective Service been so quick to pick him up? The shooting would not have warranted an immediate withdrawal, would it? Especially since Calvin had been the victim. "It's your fault," he mumbled.
"What?" Maggie froze, and then slowly returned her gaze to him. Her entire expression hardened. "It's my fault?"
"You hit him," Calvin reminded. "You bruised him and someone reported it. If you hadn't hit-"
"That was a mistake, Calvin! You know that!" Maggie raised her voice in a shrill screech. "I would never hurt my boy! Not when my father did that to me!" She sharply turned her back on him, crossing her arms. A pang of guilt shot through him. His wife put on a nice front, but the truth was that she basically came from the same home environment. Watts had not struck her like a punching bag—not as his own father took his anger out on Kurt—but he would smack her around and even choke her sometimes. When she disappointed him. Made sense.
"Hey, listen…" Calvin stepped closer to her. He wrapped his arms around her form. Only then did he realize her body trembled. Frowning, he rested his chin on top of her shoulder. "We are going to get our son back, okay?" Maggie had done some stupid things recently, but she didn't deserve his anger right now. Especially since their son was gone. He was still pissed at her about the Kurt thing, but they needed to be united right now. "As soon as the town is ours, we'll find this so-called Black Steel and pry Hank's location from her. And if not from her, then I'm sure Kurt won't be silent if he has to watch her get… questioned. The fucking idiot thinks he's in love."
"You…" Maggie whispered with a slight shake of her head. "You're not planning on letting him live, are you?" She still trembled and so did her voice. "There's no coming back for him. You should just kill him now. For everything he has done."
"I…" His arms fell from her. "I can't kill my own brother. He's blood."
"And so is his spawn, Calvin!" Maggie stated, whirling around to glare at him. "Would you give the same courtesy to the little cretin?! What does blood have to do with anything?! He is not family anymore! He doesn't get to hurt us like this, and then come back into the fold!"
"I know that!"
"Then kill him!"
"… What is with you and killing people lately?" Calvin questioned, changing the subject. Whatever Kurt had done, he still felt wholly uncomfortable with the thought of taking his brother's life. He could threaten and posture, but at the end of the day… They were brothers. Even if Kurt did not see it that way anymore. "I still can't believe you killed Mitchum."
"Mitchum was a traitor," Maggie scoffed. At his furrowed brow, she opened her mouth to explain. "Kurt wasn't the only one who stuck his dick in the wrong bitch." Calvin lips parted in surprise. Was she implying…? "Oh yes. One of our top leaders had a mixed family. There's pictures of him smiling for the camera with his brown lover and their two children—somewhere tropic." She crossed her arms, lips curling in disgust. "He was never going to allow us to push our beliefs forward."
"How did you…?"
"It was on your cell phone last night," Maggie said. Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Came from an email I recognized, so I opened it."
"You recognized it," Calvin said. "Let me see."
"It was the same email that gave that black bitch's address." Maggie turned and stretched her arm towards the desk. She picked up the discarded phone before walking towards him. Her thumbs already moved across the touch screen in a rapid manner. Admittedly, his wife was better at anything electronic. Apparently finding it, Maggie turned the phone over to him. Sure enough, incriminating proof that Mitchum's death was justified. With his arm wrapped around a fucking beaner of a woman, he allowed two kids who looked like him, and her, to attach to his legs. Some family photo.
"Fucking bastard," Calvin growled through clenched teeth. This was unbelievable. So, in the end, all he had cared for was profit. He had held no stake in their cause. No belief of pure. He just wanted the fucking money. No wonder he had lied in bed with Proctor, that fucking dutchie. "God… Next you're gonna tell me Trump loves the fags."
"Honey, I didn't want to tell you and crush whatever you might have felt for the man, but when he slapped you, I…" Maggie licked her lips and shifted her gaze to the floor. "I couldn't let him get away with it."
Calvin heaved a heavy sigh before nodding. At the time, he had frozen from both the slaps and his wife's retaliation. One from pure embarrassment. The second from astonishment. Had Maggie not shot him, Mitchum might have been enough to make Calvin abandon his plan for revolution. After all, he had been ignorant and respected the chain of command. But if the higher ups were corrupt, then it would not have been worth it. His wife had done quite the service to the cause. Perhaps she thought it was a start to making up for her near infidelity.
"You did the right thing," Calvin assured her. Maggie lifted her head, giving a hesitant smile. "Now, there's no more obstacles in our way."
0-0
Coming to an abrupt halt, Billy Raven panted heavily as he, almost aggressively, pushed in his five-digit number into the keypad. Heartbeat in his ears, he pressed his index finger on the scanner. With a loud buzz, the back entrance to BSD opened for him. He pulled open the reinforced door and quickly made his way inside. His steps were as hurried as the tempo of his heart. He could not believe things had escalated so quickly. Sighing heavily, he powerwalked through the basement. Billy could not even tell what had actually triggered it. Suddenly, The Brotherhood had broken the impasse with a gunshot and attacked first. Now, they had gang members versus civilians going at each other like a Battle Royale type of situation.
On his way through, he spotted Job at one of his desks in the tech area. Per usual, his fingers flew across a keyboard. A stark contrast to his laidback expression. A quick greeting, more out of routine than genuine, left his mouth as he moved pass. Job, in turn, lazily called back. Again, probably out of routine. Upon reaching the stairs, Billy took them two at a time. He had orders to return to the station and give an update to the Sheriff because the man had not been responding on the radio, according to Brock. Admittedly, there was no radio in the Sheriff's office. He had relied on Alma for his updates. Unfortunately, Billy recalled Hood telling the woman to stay home today. For her safety. But with the way things were, Billy imagined this spreading throughout the entirety of Banshee. If they could not stop it.
He reached the top of the stairs to find the area surprisingly occupied. Including the Sheriff, and Aimee, there stood Mayor Hopewell and Alison Medding. There was another woman but Billy did not recognize her. Wait… That was not true. Somehow, she was vaguely familiar to him. Perhaps he had seen her around town? But she appeared to be standing a little away from the group of conversing authorities. Like she didn't want to be here. The crossed arms indicated as much, but her eyes practically radiated irritation. Billy shook his head, telling himself that this was no time for analyzing new people. He quickly approached the five, and they heard his approach nearly at the same time. His boss greeted him first.
"Raven! What's the situation?" Hood asked. "Brock was supposed to call me five minutes ago with an update."
"He didn't get the chance! A massive fight broke out," Billy exclaimed. "Somebody in The Brotherhood shot into the crowd and after that… FUBAR. Everyone is attacking. No one is listening. I mean, it's so chaotic, Sheriff, Brock wants backup from outside Banshee—state police—so we can get things under control."
"For fuck's sake," Hood grumbled, roughly rubbing his head. "Are you happy now?" He directed the question to Alison. The woman with the cell phone. She glared back, eyes looking as though she might strangle him. Consequences be damned. No surprise there, really. She then turned her dark eyes completely on Billy before stepping forward. Clearly, she was going to ignore the question.
"Billy, how are they attacking? What type of weapons do they have?" Alison questioned. "We were positive that they did not have access to heavy artillery."
"Like I said," Billy replied, gaze darting around. His brow furrowed before turning his attention back to Alison. "It's chaos. They're using brute strength with stuff like pipes and bats. They're untrained, but their numbers are too big for the police we have gathered. No heavy artillery, but it's still pretty bad out there. There's gonna be a lot of casualties if we don't stop this somehow." Here, Alison averted her gaze. Guilt. Well, any normal person would feel guilty. Then again, a normal person would not have incited something like this in the first place. Both she and Kurt were a match. Speaking of which- "Wait, where is-?"
"Sheriff Hood, it's like I told you," Aimee cut in, cutting her eyes to the man in question. "They will not stop now that they're going. We need to defend this point or they are going to get their way. We can't just sit here while our men are overwhelmed. We have to do something right now. Get your guns."
"Fuck…" Hood drawled, rolling his eyes. This time, he rubbed his jaw. Then he shook his head. "Alison, I'm sorry-"
"You cannot be serious!" Alison interrupted.
"I have to handle this massive situation before I can deal with anything else," Hood said. "I'm sorry, but right now, a fucking warzone is the main priority than getting back one man." Billy frowned, not understanding. One man…? "Let me handle what's going on downtown, and then I will-"
"It could be too late by then!" Alison protested.
"We don't even know if he has been taken!" Hood snapped. "In case you forgot, police have to investigate things before we can act. Right now, the problem in front of us doesn't need to be investigated. That's the problem we have to deal with first."
"Uh… sorry, I'm a little late to this argument," Billy interjected before Alison could retort. "Wh-What exactly is going on here?" As though they had forgotten about the other occupants of the room, both Hood and Alison flinched before turning to him. "Did The Brotherhood take somebody? Is it DA Mark Franklin?" His inquiries were met by silence. "Seriously, what's this other problem?"
"Alison's baby's daddy has been kidnapped," the woman stated casually from her place on top of one of the desks. "Alison's been trying to convince your boss to find him. The rebuttal is, of course, the gigantic fight downtown. Apparently, he's choosing the town over his deputy."
"Lena…!" Alison scowled in her direction. The woman only shrugged, switching to a bored expression. Alison slowly turned her focus on Billy. "She's right, though. Kurt didn't come back to the house. He's been gone for… almost an hour now. His cell phone is dead. I don't know where he is."
Billy heard her clearly. She had not trembled as she spoke matter of fact. He wondered if that was how she sounded in court. Speaking about something horrible but presenting it like cold facts. Hm. For some reason, Billy could not process it though. Not as quick as normal. Kurt was… missing? That was the reason he was not here or in the thick of it. That was the reason he had not returned any of the phone calls. Kurt was missing. Taken. Billy found himself blinking rapidly as the concept finally pierced his brain. By the time he came back, he realized that the others were having a conversation without him. The Mayor and Sheriff attempting to make Alison see the logic of waiting to find Kurt.
"No," Billy said. His outburst effectively ended the argument. "No," he said again. "One of our own could be in danger and we're not going after him?"
"All of our own is in immediate real danger right now, Raven," Hood reminded. "Bunker will understand the-"
"That's bullshit!" Billy exclaimed. He then cleared his throat. "Pardon my language, sir, but if he has been taken, that means he's not armed and at the mercy of a dangerous gang. The longer we wait, the lower his chances of living are." Hood opened his mouth, and Billy could see he would not be swayed. He would shift his complete focus to the gang versus civilians situation. He could not fault his boss for that. He had to think of the highest collateral damage. "I understand if you can't go, but I can. You don't need me there. I'll find Kurt."
"That'll be a slaughter, Raven," Hood said.
"I have to try, sir," Billy said. "He would do the same for me. The same for any of us." Besides, he had already told Kurt. And he had gone and gone by himself after all. Honestly, he had no choice but to follow. If all this effort went to waste and he just died because Kurt had no allies, Billy would never forgive himself. He couldn't just leave his brother-in-arms to face The Brotherhood alone. "With all due respect, I'm going. Fire me later."
"You don't know where to go to."
"He does now," Job's voice caught their attention. Everyone turned to see the man sauntering towards them from the stairs. He waved a piece of white paper pinched between his index finger and thumb. "I have a location. An old mill that used to be the income of Banshee several decades ago. I'm amazed it's even standing let alone housing your klu-kluxing punks. That's where I pinged the sweet-Nazi's cell phone. It also happens to be among one of the clusters. I'd say it's your best bet of finding him."
"Job, you're a lifesaver!" Billy praised, reaching to take the paper from the tech.
"I prefer god, but thank you," Job said. "As for what you asked for, Sheriff-" He turned his eyes to Hood. "-those five clusters I found have been reduced by three. Simultaneous blackouts for all those phone signals as far as I can tell."
"What? Have you already sent out a squad?" Gordon questioned the Sheriff.
"No," Hood sounded just as baffled. "Even if I did, I wouldn't tell them to destroy cell phones. Waste of time."
"Who cares?" Alison muttered, snatching the paper from Billy's fingertips. "We have the destination. Let's go."
"Oh no, no no—you're not going anywhere," Hood objected. Alison merely cocked a brow as she pulled out her cell phone. "Right. Forgot who I was talking to." The Sheriff pressed his lips together for a moment. Alison snorted. "I guess you're not giving me much choice…" He sighed. "Raven, you're charged with keeping an eye on Alison, and anyone who goes with her. You understand?"
"Got it, boss," Billy said, understanding completely.
"Sheriff King, you're with me," Hood continued. "Gonna need you, too, Gordon."
"I-" Gordon looked as though he might protest.
"No, he's right," Alison cut in. She snapped a picture of the paper in her hand. Presumably, she intended to send it to someone. "You'll need to show your face on the bigger front in case things go sideways." She ignored the judging hmph from Job. "Let your support be clear to everyone." The Mayor snorted but nodded his head.
"Job-" Hood began.
"Don't even fix your mouth to have me go out there," Job said.
"I was going to say give me the keys to the armory," Hood said. The Asian man merely released an indignant huff again. "Let's go save a fucking town."
"Glad to see everyone is so determined," a sultry voice spoke up. Billy did not recognize the voice at all. He looked towards the entrance. Despite not recognizing the voice, he immediately realized who it belonged to. Rebecca Bowman walked forward, along with Kai Proctor, her uncle. She had quite the nerve, wearing a black and white lace dress—mostly white. She presented herself as innocent when she was anything but. A branch of power in Banshee that no one had expected. Admittedly, he had only recently discovered the fact. A confident smile formed on her ruby red lips, unaware that Billy already did not like her. "I do hope the same courtesy could be extended to my uncle."
No one spoke up right away. Best guess: annoyance because another problem had surfaced. Why else would these two show up? Billy, himself, teetered on annoyance and anger. After all, this woman had caused the home invasion of his friend. However, there was something more than annoyance radiating from Alison Medding. Her body had gone rigid. Glancing her way, Billy saw her side profile. Shock. Realization. Pure rage. He had seen this rapid succession in her before. In fact, he had seen it after the first home invasion she had become a witness to. When Kurt's life had become uncertain after Nazis had burned him. Too late, he realized that Alison knew. Last time, she had schooled her features to hide it. This time, she did not. Billy reached to grab onto her but missed her by a brush of his fingertips.
Alison launched herself at Rebecca, clearly not caring for witnesses.
0-0
She had forgotten the feeling. Since she had come into her power, no one had the courage to cross her. With her knowledge, she could utterly destroy someone. With her shadow, Clay Burton, she could speak to the most powerful individual without repercussion because the retribution would cost them more than what they might be willing to part with. She had the power of both knowledge and strength on her side. Because of that, she had gotten complacent. No one could touch her. It had been so many years since she had felt this feeling. Fear. Fear for her life. Fear of not being able to think of a countermeasure. Because she had forgotten her fear, her back had slammed against a nearby desk. Fingers wrapped around her throat, squeezing. An enraged woman hovering over her. And familiar voices shouting.
… Only the bold or crazy would ever dare cross you.
Which one are you?
Stay from my sight, Ms. Bowman, and you won't have to find out.
The prior conversation flashed through her mind as she attempted to pry the hands from her throat. However, the hands would not budge. Surely, there would be bruising from this. She might actually die right now. Fortunately, someone managed to pull Alison from on top of her. Rebecca sucked in several deep breaths, causing her to cough out quite ragged. Gritting her teeth, she gingerly rubbed her abused neck and sat up. She glared through watery eyes at her attacker. It took three men—Mayor Hopewell, Sheriff Hood, and Deputy Raven—to restrain Alison, and yet they struggled. She must have really wanted to cause harm.
"What the hell's your problem?!" Rebecca attempted to shout, but her throat felt raw. This was the last thing she expected upon coming to a relatively safe location. She and her uncle had taken another route to arrive because of the commotion downtown. Apparently, things had escalated quite a bit since she had stopped watching the news. Kinaho officers and Banshee deputies had advised her to evacuate. She had only taken the detour, fully intending to manipulate the Sheriff into allowing her uncle to sanction her uncle to fight. Just as they had years ago at the CADI. She wanted to make sure he would not arrest her uncle for this plan of eradication.
"You're my problem!" Alison shouted. Rebecca could not recall a time where she had heard the older woman raise her voice. Not like this. Even last night, she exuded a calmness during her rousing speech. Now, she seemed wild. "You sent those monsters to my home! Put my kids in danger! The reason for this war! Just because I got rid of your fucking puppet?! You childish bitch!"
"Alison, calm down!" Mayor Hopewell ordered. "What are you talking about?!"
"I told you what would happen if you went after my uncle!" Rebecca blurted, somehow not able to control her ire. She lost her composure and said something unnecessary. Even so, she felt incensed and embarrassed. At being called out. At being caught. She had leaked her address and caused those men to seek her out. However, Alison had received the warning. Explicitly. The fault did not lie with Rebecca. "This world has consequences, ADA Medding. It just so happens I can dish them out."
Alison stopped struggling against the arms that held her. The change was so abrupt that the men appeared confused. Hell, Rebecca was confused as well. Slowly, they released her, apparently thinking she had calmed herself. Then she felt it. Again, it had been so long, but she recognized it. She felt small in the presence of someone who truly had power. Exuding it without effort. "You think I give a damn about your uncle?" Alison questioned. "I don't. Not even a little. Whether he lives or dies. Whether he goes to jail for his criminal activities or thrives because of them. As long as he did not come for my family, he was fine. And he realized that. Most I got were threats from him, and I knew they were just threats. Because he knew what I'd really do if he did. After all, that's how he remade me."
"What? Remade?" Rebecca repeated, baffled. She turned to her uncle for some type of explanation. However, her uncle looked at her with such disdain. She found herself flinching under his gaze. "We had a deal…" She absolutely hated the feebleness in her voice. "She broke the deal, uncle."
"She was off limits regardless, Rebecca," Uncle reproached. "She was not your business to toy with as you do." Rebecca swallowed, words drying up before they could form. "Alison only reacted this way because of you." She felt like a child again. Though she doubted she could, Rebecca opened her mouth to explain. "Uncle, I-"
"Hey! Hey!" The Sheriff interrupted, drawing attention. "I don't care who or what started this! We're in the thick of it now, so as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter. So, calm the fuck down, Alison!" The woman in question did not relax in the least and kept her glare firmly on Rebecca's form. "Proctor, what the hell are you doing here, anyway?"
"…" Uncle shifted his disapproving gaze from Rebecca after another few seconds. She frowned deeply, dipping her head to stare at the floor beneath her. She knew that her uncle and Alison's mother had a relationship of some sort. She knew that a promise of protection extended to the daughter. However, would her uncle truly go so far for a dead woman? Regardless, he had said. It made Rebecca feel like a fool. "Well, Sheriff, I was attacked by the ringleader of this little rebellion this morning. There are several dead men on my property. All in self-defense, I assure you."
"Proctor, in case you haven't realized, there's a bigger mess than filing reports right now," Sheriff Hood sounded quite tired. "You want him arrested? Get in line. By the end of this, our cells will be bursting."
"I've come to offer my services," Uncle retorted. "Calvin and his men have become a problem that needs putting down. Or else Banshee won't survive. I want to see to it that this problem ends today."
"We don't need your services," Hood replied.
"You already have them," Rebecca spoke up, slipping from her sitting position on the desk. "Along with the Kinaho tribe, the Salvadorians, and a few other groups under my employ. They're off protecting civilians as we speak. We just wanted to make it official. In exchange, we want immunity. Any charges you might have should disappear. Don't think about arresting any of us for what may have happened to lead us here. This is a state of emergency, after all."
"Looks like Little House on the Prairie has it all figured out," the man known as Job remarked in an uncaring manner. Rebecca scowled in his direction. "Oh? Would you prefer An Amish with a 'tude?"
"You know what? I honestly don't really care anymore," Sheriff Hood said. "You want to help, go for it."
"Officially," Rebecca insisted.
"Fine. You're all hereby deputized by the Banshee Sheriff's Department," he grumbled, waving his arm about in their general direction. "I can't arm you."
"Not to worry, Sheriff," Uncle replied. "I'm sure I can make do with my own."
"Great," Hood said, though it didn't sound like approval. "Rebecca, you stay-"
"Oh no—the bitch is coming with us," Alison interjected. Rebecca pursed her lips. The ADA had not looked away from her, so clearly she was said bitch. The Sheriff sighed out her name. "What? She needs to make up for what she's caused. And I'd rather her with me than here, gathering more secrets." Rebecca narrowed her eyes. Though she had not planned to do something like that, she also had not planned to go to a firefight either. Of course, she carried her gun at all times but…
"I highly doubt you need me as well," Rebecca said, furrowing her brow.
"No, I don't need you," Alison said. "But if someone is going to be shot, it should be you."
"That's not going to-"
Not allowing her to finish, Alison reached behind her back and pulled out a pistol—standard issue for police. She aimed it directly at Rebecca, expression as cool as the cold metal in her hand. The men around her flinched. The Mayor hissed out a 'Jesus, Alison!' but she ignored him. Her entire focus remained on Rebecca. Clenching her teeth, Rebecca stared back at the woman, feeling the fear creep back in. "You have two choices here," Alison said. "You can either have a one hundred percent chance of catching a bullet right goddamn now or have a lower chance of catching one later from somebody else. What's it gonna be?"
"Y-You wouldn't," Rebecca whispered. "Too many witnesses. Cameras surround us. And you're an Assistant District Attorney. You wouldn't."
"You think I care about law and order right now?" Alison asked. Rebecca noticed the way her finger curled around the trigger. "Didn't I tell you stay out of my sight? Now, you have your answer." Clearly, she had remembered their prior conversation as well. "The answer is both."
"Alright…!" Rebecca conceded, frustrated. Not a one had jumped to interfere on her behalf. Not even her uncle. It appeared she had no choice in the matter. Besides, perhaps she could direct her shadow to her location. She had no doubt he would protect her as well. "I'll go with you."
"Nice choice," Alison feigned praise, lowering her arm. "Let's work well together… for the time being."
0-0
Alison slipped on a bulletproof vest as she listened to Job give the layout of the building.
Billy did the same as he loaded bullets into gun magazines.
Rebecca, frowning, twirled the chamber of her revolver.
Lena pulled her hair back into a high ponytail as she tilted her body left and right.
Kai merely watched the process, expression unreadable.
Closer to the entrance of BSD, Sheriff Lucas Hood slipped his gun into his leg holster.
Mayor Gordon Hopewell strapped his sniper rifle to his back.
Sheriff Aimee King, already prepped with guns and ammo, slid her hand across her face, drawing lines of red war paint.
Maggie blinked once, and then quickly assembled the gun parts before her.
Standing beside his wife, Calvin slipped on a pair of brass knuckles.
The twenty men lurking through the building gripped their own respective weapons.
Still on his own, Kurt continued to cause friction in his chains.
Only a matter of time.
Until the end.
0-0
So close, bro, so close!
I can taste the ending!
Honestly, this was supposed to be the final chapter. I know I say that a lot but I mean it this time. I was gonna keep writing until the end. But it was getting on the long side, so I decided to save the rest for it's own chapter. I don't want butts numbing from sitting in place for too long. Mine certainly did...
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. The end is right around the corner. For real, this time.