A siren went off, loud and obnoxious. Equipped with flashing red and blue lights, the sight of the incoming police cruiser caused the gang member's eye roll. He pushed himself from the wall as the cruiser slowed to a stop right at the curb. The same song and dance began again. The front doors of the cruiser opened, nearly in accord. Out stepped two uniformed officers. They approached the man, requesting his name. Proudly, the man stated his name, along with his gang name. Lynch. The two officers shared a look, conversation passing between their eyes. Then one of them informed him of his arrest. Lynch laughed outright, unbothered. He turned his head, revealing the swastika tattooed on his neck. His affiliation meant off limits. Both officers glared before reading him his rights. Only when they stepped closer did the laughter abruptly ended. The man flicked his lit cigarette and the white stick collided with a forehead. No further warning, the two officers tackled the man to the ground.
0-0
A man, known as Skinner, tripped over a misplaced box and crashed hard against a brick wall. Pushing himself away, he continued his sprint down the alley. Behind him, a pair of cops chased after him. All three had been running for the better part of fifteen minutes. The gang member had managed to hide and dodge them, knocking over innocent bystanders, for most of it but now they had caught up. The tattooed man reached the end of the alley and jumped on the metal fence. However, before he could reach the top, hands grabbed at the back of his clothes. Harshly yanked, he could not keep his grip on the fence. His back slammed against the cement with one of the cops hovering over him. The cop flipped him over, called him a racist asshole, and pawed at his arm to cuff him. He, of course, struggled. Swinging his free arm backwards, his fist caught the cop's jaw. The second cop quickly struck the back of the Skinner's head, subduing him enough to clasp the cuffs around his wrists.
"Fucking Nazis…!"
Together, the two cops lifted the man from the ground.
0-0
"I know my rights!" White Snake shouted as the back door of the police cruiser slammed in his face.
"Yeah, I just read them to you," the officer retorted with a shake of her head. She looked to her partner, who nursed a bleeding lip. "This makes three down."
"One to go," he replied.
0-0
Standing amongst his fellow coworkers, Deputy Kurt Bunker was nervous. It had been so long since he walked the path to this particular bar. With good reason. Besides The Reich, this bar was another hangout for The Brotherhood. It had not been a surprise when Job directed them here of all places. According to him, the person they were looking for had been holed up here all morning. Robert Lander, otherwise known as Mammoth. The last culprit identified by the sketches. Normally, it would be a two-man job to apprehend a suspect. However, the Sheriff thought it would best for himself and Brock to come along. Of course, he wasn't wrong. They would face hostility and resistance, and not just from who they intended to arrest.
Kurt's fingers flexed around the neck of the shotgun he carried. He aimed the weapon at the ground, waiting for his Sheriff's signal. Without a word, Sheriff Hood gestured with two fingers. Billy and Brock broke formation and headed towards the back of the building. On the ride over, Kurt had told them of the unlocked backdoor, so they would cut off a possible exit. There were no live cameras, and with the windows covered, none inside would see them coming. Then the Sheriff beckoned Kurt with one finger. Together, they walked to the entrance of the bar. Hood glanced at him, silently questioning his readiness. Kurt nodded, more than ready. Arresting his former brothers had been long overdue.
Hood returned the nod before opening the door. Kurt followed, fingers tightly wrapping around the barrel of the gun. He imagined that he could not relax his grip until this confrontation ended. Expectedly, their presence in the bar caused all present to stare. Kurt counted five. The bartender. Two men playing pool. Mammoth sat at one of the booths. At the bar, another familiar person watched Kurt, eyes narrowing into a glare. Pony Joe. Calvin's right-hand and best friend. Though their target was Mammoth, Kurt watched the balding man with the same intensity. He wondered if Pony Joe had been one of the culprits on Amish lands as well. Kurt clenched his teeth and swallowed hard.
"Sheriff's Department," Hood announced.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" the bartender questioned, already hostile. "I didn't call you."
"Calm down," Hood told him, eyes not wavering from their target. "We're only here for one person. Robert Lander, you're under arrest-" Mammoth stood from his table and made a move to go towards the back. However, both Brock and Billy came from that path, guns drawn and pointed at him. "It'd be in your best interest not to resist." Pony Joe turned his head, obviously looking at the cut off exit. Then, he looked back at Kurt. For a moment, no one moved. The atmosphere turned tense and stifling. Finally, Pony Joe stood up from the barstool. "Hey, don't you fucking move." The Sheriff pointed his finger and reached for his gun holster with the other hand. Not heeding the order, Pony Joe faced them. Kurt noticed the two men playing pool had completely faced them as well, hands clenching around the cue sticks. Kurt did not recognize their faces, nor did they have the telltale tattoos. But clearly, they intended to get involved. This was a bar for them, after all.
"Why don't you all just stand down?" Brock pointed his gun towards the two at the pool table. "Like he said, we're only here for Mammoth over there but we'll have no problem bringing you all in." Mammoth inched closer to him. The man had gotten his name for his physical appearance. Compared to Brock, his stature was akin to a bulldozer. "Back up and turn around!"
"This is a free country!" Mammoth exclaimed, face flushed. Either from the alcohol or the guilt. Probably not guilt. "I didn't do anything wrong!" Kurt frowned deeply. The sad thing about it—he probably believed that.
"We all know that's not true, so turn around, asshole!" Brock insisted. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
Again, the room became stifled with tension. Then, abruptly Pony Joe reached for his beer bottle. With an exclamation of run, he chucked the glass bottle at Kurt. He narrowly dodged the bottle by lowering himself. Sheriff Hood shouted gun, but Kurt kept his eyes on Pony Joe, who had lurched forward. His fist came hard and fast, right hook knocking against his jaw. Kurt grimaced and stumbled to the side, knowing that a bruise would form on his skin. He felt, rather than saw, Pony Joe rush by him. Wincing, Kurt gave chase even though he heard a gun go off behind him. He barreled through the front door, quickly spotting Pony Joe frantically attempting to get inside a vehicle.
Hastily, Kurt charged at him. With his shoulder, he slammed most of his weight into Pony Joe. He, of course, hit the side of the vehicle hard. The man recovered quickly enough and sharply turned to strike a blow. Kurt swung his weapon, hitting Pony Joe with the butt of the shotgun. It was a direct hit to his solar plexus. He gasped and wheezed, sliding down against the car he had been trying to get into. Kurt's right hand left the shotgun and gripped the back of the culprit's neck. He yanked him close while Pony Joe struggled for air. "Assaulting an officer is a crime," Kurt growled out. "You're under arrest, Pony Joe."
"Fuck you, pig…!" he snapped back.
"Rather a pig than another mindless cog in the machine," Kurt replied, glaring. "I mean, really? Going after the Amish? What the fuck is Calvin thinking?!"
"Listen to you…" Pony Joe huffed out a laugh. "All righteous in your fucking uniform, but you'd do the same in my shoes. Hell, you actually were in my shoes before you turned into a disgusting traitor." Kurt pursed his lips. "But this uniform is not gonna protect you anymore." He laughed through clenched teeth, an ugly grin twisting his expression. "We're coming for you. You, your little bitch, and your monkey child—your whole disgusting family will know the might of The Brotherhood."
Kurt nearly snarled as he slammed his former brother's head against the car. Pony Joe crumbled in an unconscious heap. He could never take too many blows, but he would wake soon enough. Still, Kurt had not meant to react so harshly. Frowning, he turned Pony Joe on his stomach. With little effort, Kurt handcuffed the criminal's wrists behind his back. Christ. He had already known but Pony Joe's threats confirmed it. The uniform had given him a semblance of protection. But not anymore. In addition, The Brotherhood truly knew about Naomi and Alison now. He needed to take action. They were not safe…
"Bunker…!" The sound of his Sheriff's voice caught his attention. Kurt craned his head to look at the bar's entrance. Hood had emerged from the door, shoving the bartender forward. Even from the distance, Kurt could see that the Sheriff had a firm grip on the man's clothes and wrists. Behind him, Billy and Brock walked out of the bar, each with a man in handcuffs. Brock led Mammoth while Billy held onto one of the pool players.
"What happened?" Kurt asked, lifting Pony Joe. The man groaned in his unconscious state. "I heard a gunshot."
"Bartender here didn't know it was a crime to shoot at an officer of the law," the Sheriff stated. "We're taking them all in now."
"Anybody hurt?" Kurt questioned, practically dragging his suspect to the police cruisers.
"Nah, I'm good," Billy replied. "The other guy decided hitting a cop wasn't worth it."
"Bullet hit one of those picture frames," Brock stated. "Let's put these assholes away."
Fortunately, there was no struggle to haul them inside the cruisers. Two in each. They drove back to BSD with no setbacks despite Pony Joe waking up on the way. The man remained silent, and glowering, even as the six made it through the door. Upon their approach, Alma stood up. "You went out for one arrest," she reminded them. "Why are you coming back with four?" The Sheriff stopped to grin at her. Alma huffed lightly, though she found him amusing. "We're going to run out of space."
"Then we'll chain them to the walls," Hood joked before continuing onward.
"You're lucky I like you!" Alma called, causing the Sheriff to chuckle.
"Sir, where do you want them?" Kurt questioned.
"I'm taking the big one into interrogation. Lock up the others until we're ready to question them," Hood ordered.
"Yes, sir."
"I want a lawyer!" Mammoth exclaimed.
The last three suspects had made the same demand. Mostly, they had been ignored. Brock, Billy, and Kurt quickly ushered the newly arrested men into a cell. Each glared and Kurt glared in returned. Pony Joe's gaze, however, felt the most piercing. During the ride, he had felt it, too. The man's previous words continuingly echoed in his mind. They had made real progress today. Without the DA holding them back, eight arrests seemed like a win. However, Kurt realized—and surely most realized as well—that this win paled to an actual victory. These arrests would not stop the other like-minded. In fact, backlash would soon follow these arrests. Coupled with Pony Joe's ominous words, Kurt understood he could not sit around and rely only on Alison's tactics. He needed to do something, too.
Kurt made his way downstairs. Last he checked, Job flittered from computer to computer, locating these suspects for them. Now that the last had been apprehended, maybe the man was already gone. Job worked the hours he wanted to, after all. Sometimes, he could only be in for less than an hour. Perks of being best friends with the Sheriff. If Job no longer worked today, Kurt would have to venture to his salon. Fortunately, Job sat at his desk. The man lazily stared at his laptop screen, not reacting to Kurt's approach. Compared to his other looks, today's attire was… subdued. He had chosen a pale blue t-shirt and dark skinny jeans. No dramatic makeup or wigs. Probably because he had to come in so early.
"Job," Kurt greeted with a tilt of his head. "I'm surprised you're still here."
"Sweet Nazi," Job returned the greeting in a terse manner. "I come and go as I please."
"Of course," Kurt replied.
"… Is there something I can help you with?" Job finally swiveled around in his chair, eyeing him with a raised brow. Kurt cleared his throat, which apparently caused the Asian man to scoff. "Please don't beat around the bush. My time is valuable." Kurt cleared his throat again, suddenly nervous. Job was an intimidating man despite his stature or fashion sense. It felt as though he was always seconds away from striking. Always ready. "Well? Out with it."
"I'm asking if you can find someone for me," Kurt blurted. Somehow, Job managed to raise his eyebrow higher. "It's uh… not for a case. Truthfully, this would be a favor. There may come a day—fast approaching—where I'll have to get my family out of town. There's only one place I can think of sending them who other people don't know about. I want to know where this place this."
"Let me get this straight," Job began. "You want me to find someone in a place that might not even fucking exist? Do you even have a name?"
"Yes," Kurt said. "Two—Graham Miller and Kendra Miller." Job pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. Obviously, he was curious. "They… took care of me when I was younger. If anything happens, I think I can trust them with my kid. I think-" He hoped, rather. "-that they'll take her in until the danger passes." If not, he would understand. This could also be a chance for him to apologize sincerely. After so many years, he could finally tell them that their child would never be forgotten. His nerves stretched just thinking about it. Still, if there had to be an underlying excuse to revisit his past, the confirmation of The Brotherhood gunning for his daughter would be it.
"You're putting a lot of hope into people who used to know you," Job noted.
"It's… just in case," Kurt admitted. "A backup plan if things go too far south. Please, can you do me this favor?" Job hummed, not appearing convinced. "What can I do in return?" He hummed again, this time sounding curious. "What can I do in return of you helping me with this?"
"Well… since you're offering," Job said, lip twitching. "There may come a time where you will catch me doing something… not entirely legal. At that time, you will shut your eyes and not say shit. No questions either."
"What not entirely legal thing would you be doing?" Kurt immediately questioned.
"I just said no questions, motherfucka," Job snapped back. "Do I look like I enjoy repeating myself?" Kurt frowned and said nothing more. "Do we have a deal, sweet Nazi?" Keeping the huff to himself, Kurt slowly nodded his head. "Good. Now, go away," Job said, turning his attention back to his laptop. "I'm already working on something for… the Sheriff. I'll get back to you in a few hours. The next time you ask for a favor, expect my bargain to include you dressed in drag." Done speaking, Job waved him off, fingers swinging independently of each other.
Understanding the dismissal, Kurt turned and headed back up the stairs. He wondered if it had been a mistake. It felt as though he had signed some sort of get out of jail free card. Well, Sheriff Hood trusted Job. The man had been helpful to the department many times in the past. Kurt should trust that Job would not do anything too bad. Besides, more than likely, Kurt would not be able to discern legal versus illegal on the man's computers. He was still very much wet behind the ears when it came to tech. He would probably remain the same in the coming years. Kurt glowered a bit as he approached his desk. He really hoped Job had been joking about the drag bit. Just in case, he silently prayed he would not need any other favors from the Asian man.
"Bunker…!" Just as he had been about to sit down, Kurt heard the voice of his Sheriff. He turned to see the man jogging towards him. "We're going out again."
"Sir…?"
"Got a search warrant for your brother's house," Hood explained. Kurt's heartbeat quickened at the mention of the warrant. "I know you leave soon, but I thought you might want to do the honors." He hadn't expected this today. Then again, Alison might have pushed for it. The longer the inaction, the more time Calvin had to dispose of any evidence. Based on what he knew, Kurt could guess that Randall's disappearance happened on Saturday. Between then and now had already been plenty of time. It would have to be a thorough search to obtain the necessary evidence. "Brock's gonna interrogate our latest arrest, and then Pony Joe. I'm taking you, Raven, some officers—just in case—and a few techs. Grab any equipment you think you need, and then meet me at the front."
"Yes, sir…!" Kurt responded. With a nod, Hood walked towards the entrance. A sigh left his mouth through clenched teeth. It was only an hour and a half left of his shift. Thorough searching probably meant overtime. He slipped his hand into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. Then, he walked to the lockers. With no one around, he could have a bit of privacy. Kurt did not have to scroll far into his contacts to reach Alison. He pressed the number to dial and waited for her to pick up.
"Hey, what's up?" she greeted. Despite the erratic throbbing in his head, hearing her voice calmed him down. "Busy day…?"
"I'm sure you already know," Kurt said, feeling the corner of his lips curl.
"I may have a connection or two," Alison confessed. "But I've only heard about three arrests so far."
"Just brought in another four," he replied. Alison made a noise of surprise. "The last arrest was surrounded by like-minded individuals. Had to bring them in, too, for assault and interference." Kurt could sense the responding eye roll. "The reason I'm calling is because the search warrant just came in. If things go accordingly, I'll be up to my neck in paperwork. I might not be able to pick up Naomi today."
"Yeah, I figured," Alison said. "I'll pick her up. Do you think you'll be home for dinner? Around 5:00?"
"I should," he said. "I'll try to get out of here before, though."
"That's fine. But I planned on steak tonight…"
"You're such a tease," Kurt told her, smile stretching into a grin. "You know I love your steaks."
"Hn mm, I do," Alison said, and he could sense the smirk in her voice. He huffed in amusement. "It's incentive, Kurt. We'll see you when you get home. Good luck. I love you."
"… I love you, too," Kurt replied, smiling. Warmth filled his chest, streams of pleasure flowing through his veins. They could say those things words so easily now. "And thanks. See you in a few hours' time."
0-0
The vehicle came screeching to a halt. The front right tire hit the curb, but Calvin Bunker already opened the door and practically jumped out. He had been anxious ever since his wife called him. Seeing her now, along with his son, did not quell the pit in his stomach. Maggie and Hank sat in the front yard, not yet seeing Calvin's quick strides in their direction. Fuck, fuck, fuck…! The thought played in his head on repeat. If it hadn't been for his gook boss, he would have gotten here sooner. God, he wanted to beat the shit out of him. But he now had other things to worry about. The distressing call from his wife had him second-guessing every action he had taken this morning. Had he done this? Had he done that? Had he left something out? Had he left everything normal?
The questions and panic swirled, pushing him to get home as soon as possible. He knew this day would come eventually. It had been the reason Calvin never plastered his affiliation all over his home like some others. Being leader meant he filled many roles. All-American father being one of them. An average guy that neighbors would either ignore or wave to in passing. None of them had a clue, and Calvin preferred that. It meant no one would ask questions or observe his family too closely for gossip. A wolf in sheep's clothing. Now, though, his entire house—his carefully crafted persona—had been put on the spot. Nosy neighbors and bystanders alike crowded around and looked to his home as if it was on display. A fucking spectacle.
Calvin grit his teeth and moved forward, roughly pushing pass the crowd. Maggie looked up and spotted him coming. She, of course, stood from the ground and moved to meet him. However, uniformed men stopped them both from reaching each other. "This is my house!" Calvin almost snarled. The cop acted unbothered by the outburst, but decided to let him through. The other cop stepped aside as well, allowing Maggie to walk forward again. She wrapped her arms around him and Calvin returned the embrace.
"I hid it," Maggie told him in a whisper. Calvin immediately relaxed in her hold. Of course she had. However, it meant he had been sloppy and left something out. "I went to pick Hank up and when I came back, they were here with a warrant," she told him, louder than a whisper. Her arms slowly released him, and then she led him over to the patch of land she had been sitting on. His son did not lift his head to greet him. The past few days, Hank had been less than enthused. He had been quieter. He hardly talked about anything anymore. It was not normal behavior for him. Calvin had half a mind to take him to the side and figure out what changed with his son. However, Maggie's next words effectively distracted him. "Kurt is with them." His name spit like acid from her mouth.
Calvin understood her ire. Really. She had extended an olive branch to a traitor. He had been allowed to watch their son in hopes that he would eventually come back. Calvin had been pleased with her actions to bring his brother home. Honestly, he regretted and despaired Kurt's departure from his family. Before, he would allow a lot to have his brother back. But to turn up as a cop… To turn into a father for a half-breed child… To turn his back on their beliefs in such a horrendous way… Kurt had shit on everything he had followed. Destroyed any chance to come back into the fold. Now, he had the nerve to come to their home to ransack the place.
"Why are they here?" Calvin questioned. "And why are you standing outside?"
"They wouldn't tell me!" Maggie crossed her arms, expression hardening. "And I'd rather not have Hank exposed to this. I'd rather him not be here for this at all."
"Alright, stay here," he told her, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. Dutifully, Maggie nodded her head. Then she went back towards their son. She sat down next to Hank, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Calvin noticed the way his son tensed. It… was familiar, but he did not know why. His brow knitted closer together as he made his way to the entrance to his home. The door was wide open, and any thoughts of his son's odd behavior vanished at the sight of just inside his home.
Already, he could see picture frames knocked down. Calvin swallowed hard, gaze moving along the wall that led upstairs. Every single photograph had been moved or displaced. He curled his fingers into fists and clenched his teeth. The rug leading to the kitchen had been carelessly tossed aside. His head turned, focusing on the living room. From his position, he could tell they had gone through that room as well. Upturning the coffee table. Moving the television stand. Leaving piles of loose furniture. Calvin never thought he would be subjected to a search. He had gotten too comfortable over the years. Years ago, he had had a failsafe in place just in case something like this happened. Keep everything affiliated with The Brotherhood in a secondary location. That way, if any police bold enough came snooping, they would find nothing.
Then Maggie whispered in his ear. Why hide if we have nothing to be ashamed of? This is our home, Calvin. His wife had been quite convincing at the time. He brought his 'work' home with him, and eventually, together, they expanded the plans of The Brotherhood. At a much quicker output rate. Calvin would not regret his decision to have Maggie go over numbers and such whilst he stayed trapped at a desk. Besides, he believed that she had effectively hidden anything incriminating. Still, it begged the question: Just what were the police doing here? Could it have been Proctor? Fucking dutchie. He was a snake, but Calvin didn't think him on this level of petty. Besides, if Proctor had pointed the finger at him, then they would have shared the same fate. They were all too closely tied up in the drug business. And what happened at the warehouse had happened at the warehouse. So, there was no reason for the police to be here in his home. What exactly were they searching for?
Calvin heard voices coming from the kitchen, so he walked down the hall towards the back of the house. "What the fuck?" Three heads swiveled in his direction. He recognized the Sheriff. The man, Lucas Hood, had been on the news a year ago. A serial killer had been on the loose, and he had given a press conference when the killer had been apprehended. The other was Kurt. The last one was a fucking prairie nigger, grubby hands all over his things. Calvin felt his teeth grind together, keeping his eyes on the third longer. The uniformed redskin looked back at him, expression neutral, but Calvin could see the annoyance in his eyes. His badge read Raven. How fucking typical. "What the fuck are you doing in my home?" he questioned, shifting a glare to his brother. Kurt tensed, shoulders swelling in anticipation. He frowned deeply and glared in return.
"Calvin, good of you to join us. Knew the missus would call you here." It was the Sheriff to answer. Calvin stared a few seconds more before looking to Lucas Hood. "We have a warrant to search the premises." The man slipped folded paper from his back pocket. "It's all here and signed off by a judge." Calvin slapped the paper down, and it fluttered to the floor. "No need for hostilities. We're all adults here." He then gave a sly grin. "Well, the way our Bunker tells it, you never made it to the maturity stage." Calvin felt his eye twitch. He swallowed the anger, even as he heard Raven snort out an ugly laugh. "It'd be easier if you just told us what dirty secrets you're hiding," Lucas leaned forward a bit, arms crossed and hands tucked at his sides. "But I had no problem going from top to bottom to find the dirt."
"What the fuck are you doing here?" The repeated question came with a snarl. "Did some gossip call you? No one's even here during the day," Calvin pointed out. Recently, Maggie had been just as busy, but still managed to pick up Hank from school and have dinner ready when he came home. "What gives you the right-?"
"A judge," Kurt interrupted. "It's all in the warrant you just smacked down." Calvin glared at his brother. His traitor brother who had made him an unwitting uncle. His disgusting traitorous brother in his cop uniform stared right through him as though they weren't connected by blood. "By housing Randall Watts—a recent parolee—your home is liable to be searched for a justifiable reason." Calvin kept his face neutral. However, he felt the abrupt irritation. Fucking Watts. Even in death, the former leader caused him unnecessary stress. He wasn't worried though. They had been thorough in the disposal. "Not only that, but Watts has not checked in with his parole officer. An anonymous tip led us to believe that he is missing, and this is his last known location."
"You're a piece of work!" Calvin retorted. "You think I don't know the real reason you're here?" Kurt said nothing in response. "These are the acts of a desperate man—so desperate to stop the storm from drowning him!"
"Is that a threat?" Lucas asked. "You feel threatened, Bunker?"
"Not enough, sir," Kurt replied, nonchalantly. He kept his eyes locked with Calvin. "I'm not susceptible to useless bravado. The only storm here is the one you've caused by your inane decisions."
"I can see dramatics run in the family," Raven joked. "Little Bunk needs to relax."
Kurt briefly cut his gaze to the mouthy deputy. He looked mildly annoyed, but Calvin recognized the affectionate mirth in his eyes. Because his brother had looked at him like that before. Kurt even fought back a smile. At a goddamn prairie nigger. A pang of jealousy shot through him. He hated that it did. He hated that he recognized it. On some level, Calvin could never let go that Kurt was his brother. The brother that protected him from beatings. The brother that brought him to his first rally. The brother who saved him. That same brother could so easily turn his back on him—replace him—try to bring him down so desperately. For darker races. He had chosen the dirt, substituting his real family with another. It made no sense. With just a glance, Calvin realized it. The brother he looked up to was no more.
"Call me that again and I'll kick your ass," he almost growled as he glared at Raven.
"… Well, with that attitude, I don't think you should associate with him, Big Bunk." The nerve of this red bitch knew no bounds. As though Calvin were merely a fly buzzing around, he had looked towards Kurt. He dug nails into his palm. "Too bad threatening to kick my ass isn't a crime," he remarked, shrugging.
"Our cells would be full," Kurt said.
"Within a week," Lucas added.
"You guys are jerks. I don't deserve this."
This camaraderie was nauseating.
"How long is this gonna take?!" Calvin blurted. "You can't be here all night!"
"Actually, we can," Kurt said, losing all sense of humor. "You have no power here, Calvin. It's going to take as long as it takes. So, stand back and stay quiet. Or, you can come clean and confess where he is. I don't want to be standing around here all night. I have a good dinner waiting for me. Unlike you with Maggie's dry-ass potatoes…" He muttered the last sentence under his breath, but everyone still heard it. Lucas licked his lips and looked elsewhere. Raven turned his back, pretending to search through cabinets, but clearly, his shoulders shook to keep in laughter. Calvin felt the surge of anger, and it clogged his throat. He took a step forward. "Try it…!" Kurt snapped through clenched teeth, stepping forward as well. "I'm done keeping you safe. So, give me a reason to speed up this process."
The finality of his words felt like a punch to the gut. Like a stabbing, really. Calvin swallowed back the bitterness he suddenly tasted in his throat. However, he could not hold back the anger. "The feeling is fucking mutual!" he lashed out. Kurt did not falter. He only continued staring as though he didn't know Calvin. He couldn't believe he had practically begged his brother to forgive him and come back home a few months back. Back when he didn't realize Maggie had already been trying. You're not my brother, he had said. He had gotten angry then, too, but it hadn't quite sank in. Not as it did now. "I can't believe Maggie worked so hard to bring back a pussy like you."
"Say what you want, but don't interfere," Kurt flippantly replied. "Or you will be arrested for obstruction."
He turned from him then, choosing to walk into the dining room. Calvin followed him, vaguely aware that the other two quietly trailed after. He did not care at the moment. "I saved your life…!" Calvin insisted. Seemingly ignoring him now, Kurt busied his hands with opening the china cabinet. "Maggie generously nursed you back to health, brought my son to help you out of the dumps, and this is how you repay us?! I should have left an ungrateful piece of shit like you rot in misery!"
"Oh, the dump that you put me in?! That you both put me in?!" Kurt whirled around, abruptly showing his anger. Finally. "How fucking kind of a husband and wife to take time out of their day to check on a miserable cripple like me!" One of two called out their last name, but neither brother broke the fierce eye contact. "Your wife taking care of me and you being a goddamn criminal has nothing to do with each other! Now, shut the fuck up and let me do my job!"
"Fuck your job! I am your family!" Calvin countered. "Is bringing me down like this really worth it to you?!"
"Yes!" Kurt snarled. Had he said it any louder, Calvin would have stumbled back. The confirmation came as a shock. Inwardly, he had been hoping for some type of… He didn't know what he hoped for now. The confirmation meant he wasn't going to get it. "You and your fucking wife took away everything from me—everything that I'd built after leaving behind a life of hate! Friendship. Control. Real power. Love. A true family. One that I almost missed out on because of you and Maggie!" Calvin opened his mouth, incensed and insulted, but Kurt gave him no time for rebuttal. "So, no! I'm not grateful for the parts you played in breaking me! I'm not grateful that I almost played into her manipulations! I'm not grateful for almost cheating on my goddess with your fucking wife!"
"Wh-What…?" Calvin lowered his voice considerably. One could hear outside ambiance in the silence that followed. He swallowed, brain trying to work out what his brother had divulged. "What the fuck did you just say?"
"… I guess she didn't tell you that method," Kurt said. Then all the hurt and spite trickled into his expression, and it twisted his face ugly. "So generous and desperate your wife was to bring me back that she let me take off her clothes." A cruel smile played on his lips as he continued. "I wonder if she would have continued letting me fuck her if she had gotten her way. Always has been the better brother, she said."
A white-hot rage filled Calvin. The logic had long since fled his mind, but that—something Watts had always said—sent him careening over the edge of emotion. He lunged at Kurt, fully intending to cause bodily harm. However, arms stopped him from reaching. Two pairs of arms wrapped around him, effectively pinning him in place and struggling to move. "You son of a bitch!" Calvin roared. No matter his movement, he could not escape the hands that held him. Finally, the cops slammed him on top of the dining room table with his arms bound behind his back. "I'll fucking kill you! You're dead! You're fucking dead, Kurt!"
"Sir, we found something…!" A new voice caused Calvin to still, though his rage remained. He craned his head to look at the den entrance to the dining room. This person did not have on a cop uniform. Instead, he wore a lab coat, equipped with blue gloves. In his hand, he held a small bag. To Calvin's horror, the bag contained remnants of a bloody cloth. Where had they found that? "This was located in the upstairs bathroom, connected to the master." The man stated, unperturbed of the scene he had walked in on. As though the Sheriff holding down a man was a normal occurrence. "Under UV light, the shower lit up like a Christmas tree. The sink, too. Not enough for a full-grown adult, so the bathroom was probably used for the cleanup."
"Probably…?" Lucas repeated.
"There was… ah, more than just… blood," he muttered, averting his eyes for a moment. No one said anything in response to that, but Calvin got the sense of disgust and judgement. "With any luck, we'll find the murder weapon, too."
"You hear that, little Bunker?" Lucas asked, playfully. "Your house is officially a crime scene, and this is more than enough evidence for us to arrest you. So, without further ado, Bunker, you wanna do the honors?"
"You have the right to remain silent," Kurt began with only a hint of satisfaction. Calvin heard and felt the cold metal wrap around his wrists. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you can't afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."
"This is bullshit!" Calvin protested as the Sheriff and Raven roughly lifted him from the table. Damn it. They had used bleached in the basement but regular cleaning products in the shower. Too busy high off power and lust, wanting to be tangled in each other as soon as possible, they had not thought to apply the bleach everywhere. Fuck. "You don't even know whose blood that is!"
"It's enough," Kurt retorted. "I'm sure the lab results will tell us what we already know."
"Alright, keep searching the house," Lucas ordered as he guided Calvin. "Bunker and I'll take this guy back and process him."
"Yes, sir…!"
"Raven, I want you and another officer to go around the neighborhood, looking for witnesses," the Sheriff continued. The redskin released his hold on Calvin, but Lucas increased his grip. It felt as though the handcuffs dug into his skin. Calvin grit his teeth, stumbling because of the shoving. He resisted on principle, but mostly because they were leading him outside. All of Banshee would know of his arrest by the end of tonight. Fuck. Still, they could not prove he had been the one. Already, his mind worked through ways to get out of this. He would say nothing without his lawyer present. He knew he already had witnesses, too. Obviously, he would not have been home at the time of Watts' demise. With an airtight alibi, he would see no jail time. In addition, his All-American persona—with a family and a good standing in the community—he would be granted bail. Besides, they had no body. Whatever their investigation, they would not find Watts' body. And as they say, no body no crime. Kurt might believe he had won, but this was only one battle lost.
"What is this? What are you doing?!" Maggie saw them exiting their home. Eyes wide, she stared in alarm, clearly shocked that cops were taking him away. His wife quickly rushed forward, but was stopped by another man clad in uniform. He held her back, causing her glare to shift in his direction for a moment before focusing on them. "Why are you taking him?!" The shriek of her voice gave the Sheriff pause.
"Your husband is under suspicion of murder and mayhem, ma'am," he told her.
"It would be in your best interest to take your son to a hotel," Kurt advised. The sneer she displayed was almost delightful. "Your home is a crime scene. You won't be able to return until this place is thoroughly investigated."
"No! You can't! You can't do this!" Maggie protested. Having nothing else to tell her, the Sheriff and Kurt turned again, obviously ignoring her words. "I did it…!" Everyone froze, and then as one, stared at the distraught woman. "It was me! Arrest me!"
"Maggie!" Calvin barked, both surprised and incredulous. None of his plans involved his wife being arrested in his place. Despite her role in The Brotherhood, she would not so easily be given an alibi. Many knew her as mother—had the role of housewife. One who didn't leave the house often and had no social standing within the community. No one could really vouch for her. If arrested, Calvin could not guarantee her quick release. "Stop!"
"Calvin had nothing to do with it! Arrest me!" Maggie insisted.
Calvin could see how wet her eyes became with unshed tears. Knowing what her confession could mean, she still appeared determined for him. Determined and desperate. Calvin, once again, opened his mouth to tell her to stand down, however… So generous and desperate your wife was… The words poisoned his thoughts, echoed in his ears, and planted hateful seeds within. As Kurt intended, he was sure. Calvin shut his mouth. A quick, hushed conversation happened behind him but he could not focus on it. His brother—traitor that he was—did not a lie. He spoke the truth or he did not speak at all. Had his wife really attempted seduction in order to sway Kurt's return, though? It was an infuriating thought, especially since he could not exactly refute it confidently.
For a year and a half, Calvin had no idea that Maggie had gone to Kurt. Had no idea that his brother played babysitter with his son. Had no idea that his wife had plans to return his brother to the fold in the first place. Whilst he worked, she had plotted. Without his consent or knowledge. The methods she used were unknown to him, shrouded by darkness. Only now, a mere flicker of light unveiled those methods. Calvin frowned deeply. He had been stunned when Maggie told him about Kurt but ultimately pleased. Now, he wondered about her motivation. Always been the better brother. The younger Bunker swallowed sudden bile in his throat. He did not like how the light illuminated his wife.
"We have no choice, Bunker," the Sheriff's voice cut through his darkening thoughts. "She's confessing. We have to look into."
"She's not the one we came here for!" Kurt replied. "Please, sir, we can-"
"The only reason we could arrest your brother is based on what we found," Lucas said. "But if someone else that lives in this house admitted to the crime, we…" The man trailed off, but Calvin realized the truth of it. They essentially had two suspects in this situation. They did not know which committed the crime. However, if one of two confessed, then they had to turn the other loose. Until proven otherwise, they had to arrest the confessor. In a louder voice, the Sheriff directed his next words to the officer that held Maggie at bay. "Take her," he said. Immediately, the unnamed cop shifted and placed his wife in handcuffs. Maggie pursed her lips but did not resist. She didn't seem to hear as her rights were read to her. She only looked to Calvin, silently telling him to allow this. He might have understood. They could not have another leader locked up, unable to give orders. But… This was something Calvin had not counted on. The Sherriff sighed heavily as he unlatched the cuffs around Calvin's wrists. "I'll never understand the loyalty someone like you instills in others."
Calvin said nothing in response, only watched as his wife slipped into the back of a police cruiser. He should not have let this happen, a voice whispered in his mind. She should be punished for whatever infidelity, growled another. Calvin shut his eyes. He heard the slam of the cruiser door, and his entire body tensed. But his mind was conflicted. At war with this new information. New information that had him second-guessing the one person he should trust the most.
"You got lucky," Kurt told him a low voice as he walked by, shoulder checking him on the way. "Next time, you won't be."
"Fuck you," Calvin retorted, more subdued than he would have liked to convey. Finally, he opened his eyes. By that time, both Kurt and the Sheriff had climbed in the same cruiser that held Maggie. He caught her eyes, but he could not stomach to look at her right now. Calvin turned away, instead focusing on his front lawn. Hank, to his surprise, had not moved from his spot on the grass. His boy, however, stared with wide-eyes as the cruiser took his mom away. Obviously, he would not understand, but he made no move from his spot. Slowly, Calvin approached him, wondering how he could explain this to him. "Hank…!" he called. The sound of his name snapped him out of it.
"Daddy!" he exclaimed, fingers gripping the end of his shirt. "Where… Why did Uncle K take mommy?" Hank's eyes looked pass the nosy neighbors and down the street. "Did… Did I make him?"
"What? No!" Calvin responded, soothingly. He picked up his son, holding him against his side. "Now, why would you think that?" Hank frowned, gaze darting to the ground. "No, Hank, it's not your fault… Your uncle… That guy—he's not good. He did something really bad to your grandfather, and now he blames your mom for it." Calvin could not look at his boy while telling him that. He lightly pressed a kiss to his temple. "Don't worry… Mom will be home soon enough okay?" Slowly, Hank nodded his head. "Hey, why don't we… get out of here, yeah? Just me and you. Get away from home for a little bit, okay?"
"… okay…" Hank said quietly.
"We'll make it an adventure. Gotta make sure you're protected is all," Calvin gently rubbed his son's back, hoping the small comfort would be enough for now. Again, Hank nodded, still as despondent as before. "Alright, let's go pack a bag. You can bring all the games you can fit." This time, his son did not respond at all. He merely lowered his head and leaned his body close. Stifling a sigh himself, Calvin turned and walked back to the front door. He needed to make more than one call, so maybe this happening was for the best.
0-0
A bit way down the street, sitting in a parked car, Rebecca watched the events unfold. She had heard nothing but the drone from the mass of spectators, but she had seen enough to infer. The Banshee Sheriff's Department had allowed Calvin Bunker to go free. Once he had come to the laughable decision to take from her uncle, had been the moment he had lost all forms of protection. The law should have had no problem arresting him. However, the Sheriff had removed the cuffs and clapped him on his wife instead. Fools. Every single one of them. Rebecca curled her fingers around the steering wheel. Behind dark shades, she glared as the police cruiser, which carried the wrong person, drove pass.
"Well… They were given ample opportunity," she said. The corner of her mouth twitched. "And like I expected, they squandered uncle's favor. Arresting the wife instead of the husband…" Rebecca sighed through clenched teeth. "Calvin Bunker, the man responsible for the death of so many, remains uncaged." Her gaze drifted to the right of her. "What say you, dear brother?" Solomon Bowman, who had been quiet—silent—since they took him in, fixed a hard gaze on the dwelling of their enemy.
"Gute," he said.
"Yes," Rebecca replied, proudly. Her fingers squeezed the steering wheel. "Good."
0-0
The smile could not be contained. Fondly, Alison watched as Kurt and Naomi took turns in sharing their food with each other. She almost allowed a giggle slip through. They were too adorable with one another. Kurt had come home later than expected, but the food had remained warm. After greeting them, he had quickly changed out of his uniform and joined them for dinner. Although Alison was anxious to hear about his workday—practically vibrating with it—she could wait. After all, she did not want to shift into a serious atmosphere just yet. Somehow, she could sense the damper on Kurt's mood, though he had tried to hide it. Something had not gone accordingly. Or perhaps things had gone too well? No telling what the police force had found in that house… Perhaps Kurt had been horrified.
Alison pushed a stray green bean across her glass plate with a fork. Apart of her hoped not for the horrifying bit. It was bad enough that Calvin had ordered a massacre in retaliation against Proctor. Kurt had not been okay with that. Actually, part of it dealt with confusion. Kurt admitted that his brother's recent actions had not been like him. Yes, it had been years, but at the core, people did not change. Calvin's orders baffled him. Alison supposed that Kurt had a hard time coming to terms that his younger brother was the enemy. Maybe. She couldn't exactly give an unbiased opinion on the matter. Calvin was a monster that had not changed. To Kurt, his brother had changed into a type of monster he did not recognize.
"Alright, that's enough," Kurt's deep voice drifted into her thoughts. Alison looked up, not realizing she had been staring at down at her plate. "I'm pretty sure you're trying to trick me by feeding me just your vegetables." Naomi innocently pouted in response, drawing a genuine smile from her father. Alison could not contain her giggle this time. Kurt glanced her way, chuckling himself. "Finish up, so I can give you a bath, okay?" Naomi's pout became more prominent but she obliged the request by shoving both green beans and mashed potatoes in her mouth. Once their daughter was preoccupied with her own meal, Kurt shifted his attention to Alison. A sigh left his mouth. "I know what you're going to ask," he began.
"Then don't keep me in suspense, Bunker," Alison said, lifting her eyebrows expectedly. "What happened with the search warrant?" Another sigh came forth, and Alison found herself sagging in disappointment. "That bad…? So, you didn't find anything at all?"
"No, we found something," Kurt admitted. "Blood residue and a bloodied piece of shirt. Actually, I think I recognize it from as the shirt Randall wore when he came to my house." Alison tensed. "He was probably killed that night, but… We're still investigating the entire house. So far, there hasn't been a body discovery yet."
"But that should have been enough to arrest Calvin, right?" Alison questioned.
"It was and we did," Kurt stated. Alison frowned, not understanding his demeanor. This was a win, right? "But as we were taking him away, Maggie interfered." Alison blinked a few times. "She said she was the one, and so we didn't have a choice but to arrest her instead."
"What?! Jesus Christ…!" Alison shook her head in disbelief. "Why would she do that?"
"Don't know. She wouldn't say anything more about it," Kurt said. "She lawyered up as soon as we got back. She refused to write down anything either. Right now, we're holding her until we can find proof of her involvement." Alison scowled, appetite gone now. She would have rather Kurt find horrifying things than what really happened. She hadn't taken in consideration that the wife of a monster would sacrifice her freedom. "We're pretty certain the blood belongs to Randall but until the lab work comes back, we won't know for certain. It might take longer than anticipated to find more physical evidence, linking Calvin, or her, to the crime."
"I wish you could have arrested both of them," Alison grumbled. However, she understood that right now, neither the police or Maggie had actual proof of murder. From what Kurt told her, they did not have enough evidence at the moment to bring to court. Charges would be dismissed without a second glance. Any decent lawyer would tell their client that. Even she would struggle with that type of defense. Still, Maggie Bunker happened to be someone Alison had not considered in her planning. Yes, she had been hasty about it, but she had not thought to consider the wife's interference. Not in this manner, at least. The woman was not the breadwinner of the family, and so her temporary status as a single mother would have been added fuel for Phillip to take Hank away. She wouldn't be able to properly care for her son without the finances. An insignificant factor, added to the pile of 'daddy's a criminal who puts his son in danger' would have been enough for quick extraction. Now, Alison wondered if her plan could still work.
The entire plan depended on Calvin's arrest. She had no idea how much longer Proctor would restrain himself from acting. Not until the police's investigation ended, for sure. Maybe they didn't even have a week. Fuck. Alison swallowed hard, feeling the sting in her eyes. The plan had been for Hank's safety. Why were his parents making it so hard to protect the boy? They should be doing it themselves. If anything happened to Hank-
Before her thoughts could spiral down a dark path of what ifs and dismay, Alison felt a hand cover her own. She nearly flinched before opening her eyes. Of course, Kurt had reached across the table. The warmth of his hand mollified her somewhat, and Alison released a choppy breath. "I know you're worried," Kurt said. "I am, too. I wish there was something we could do right now instead of hoping for the best and waiting for the worst. But… if wishes were poppy." A surprised chuckle, however wet, erupted from her mouth. Alison sniffled and blinked back tears. "The best we can do is prepare… It feels like the next couple of days are going to be the thick of it."
"How can we prepare, though?" Alison questioned. "I already tried, and Maggie all but ruined the steps I took."
Kurt pursed his lips before speaking again. "Before, you suggested that we leave Banshee for a while," he began. Alison nodded, remembering clearly. Both had refuted that suggestion. In the end, they had to stand their ground. Staying in Banshee, dealing with this—those were the only options. "I still think we can't run from this, but our daughter…" Kurt sighed, glancing at Naomi. She continued eating, unbothered by her parents' tense conversation. "She's in danger now more than ever. I think it's best if she leaves town. It's only a matter of time before The Brotherhood comes after us."
"Maybe not," Alison said. "The partnership between them and Proctor is gone. I doubt he would give up any information about me to The Brotherhood." She scoffed lightly. "At least, one good came out of Calvin declaring war."
"A lack of information won't stop them, Alison," Kurt replied, causing her to frown. "Eventually, they'll come, so… I want to arrange another place for her to stay until we take care of this."
"There is no one outside of Banshee we can trust, Kurt," Alison said. "Except Lena, and she's a hop, jump, skip away across the pond right now." Even if she weren't, she didn't feel like hearing her best friend's chastisement. Be safe, she had begged. Being involved in a war was the opposite of safe. "We don't have options outside of town."
"I… I talked to Job today," Kurt mentioned. Alison knitted her brow together, wondering the reason for such an abrupt change in topic. Job… She still could not believe the hacker had become a part of the police force. Still, Kurt probably did not know of the man's criminal activities. His and the Sheriff's. With any luck, those certain activities remained in the past. "I asked him to do something for me, and… he came through. I haven't gotten the chance to set anything up—I wanted to run it by you first—but I may have found a safe haven."
"You're beating around the bush," Alison noted. Kurt sheepishly nodded. To put him at ease, Alison shifted her hand underneath his, upturning it so their palms touched. She intertwined their fingers, giving him a comforting squeeze. "What is it?"
"I had Job look into the people that took me in—Officer Miller and his wife, Kendra," Kurt admitted. Now, that was surprising. The last time they had spoken of the Millers, Kurt had protested contacting them. He still felt the guilt after all. "Actually, I had resolved to looking into them years ago, but only after The Brotherhood ceased to exist by my hand. I thought only that would, at least partially, make up for… what happened." Yes. Of course. He would think that was the only way to extend an olive branch. Still, Alison had not known of his intentions years ago. She supposed a lot had been placed on the backburner due to Calvin's retaliation against a mere threat. Alison forced herself not to think of that, though, least she become angry. "I think… I hope they will do the favor of looking out for Naomi while we end The Brotherhood."
"What?" He had thrown her for a loop. "What?" Maybe two. "You want our baby with strangers?!" Kurt opened his mouth. "No, we don't know what they're like. You used to know them, but they might as well be strangers in this situation."
"They are our only options, Alison," Kurt insisted. "I didn't think Calvin would slip out from being arrested. Right now, there is a target on my daughter's back, and I'm willing to do anything to keep her safe."
"So am I," she retorted as though he needed to be said. Kurt frowned deeply. "But this…" She sighed and shook her head. "I'm not comfortable with it. You know how cautious I am about strangers looking after Naomi." She had interviewed numerous daycares before deciding on the current one. Now, Kurt was suggesting that she leave their daughter with people she, herself, had never had a conversation with outside of Banshee. For an unforeseeable amount of time.
"I know that, but they're good people-"
"Good people who were so traumatized by the loss of their own daughter that they blamed you for the act and disappeared!" Alison interrupted. Kurt lowered his head and closed his eyes. "I'm glad you're willing to meet with them again. I'm glad you want closure, but this is our daughter's safety we're talking about. We shouldn't be so hasty to leave her with people we don't know."
"They were supposed to be a last resort for this," Kurt said. "But Maggie getting arrested instead of Calvin changed all that. I wanted to believe in your plan, but I don't think it can still work the way we want it to."
Alison opened her mouth, another protest on the tip of her tongue, but the person in question beat her to the punch. "Done!" Naomi announced loudly whilst also throwing down her plastic fork. Her voice combined with the clatter effectively distracted both parents. As she said, her plate had been picked clean, leaving not one stray green bean. So eager to please her daddy, she never needed to be told twice to finish her meals. It was almost maddening how well she listened to her father when it came to meals. "Bath time…!" Naomi raised her arms in preparation of being plucked from her high chair.
"Okay, bath time," Kurt agreed, standing. He nearly slipped his hand from Alison's, but she held on, tightening her grip. "Alison…?" He turned his eyes back to her.
"We'll talk about this later," she told him. "I don't want to put everything on the unknown." Kurt frowned and furrowed his brow. "So, I just… I need time to think about the best course of action." He stared at her, unspeaking for a few seconds, before a sigh left his mouth.
"I think we both know we don't have time to think anymore," Kurt said. He finally slipped away from her, focusing his attention on Naomi. "Let's go get cleaned up," he said, lifting their daughter from her seat.
She watched the two leave. Naomi happily latched onto her father. She knew Kurt was right, but he was asking her to have blind faith. Going in blind in any situation rarely resulted in good things. Alison pressed her lips together, and then stood up herself. She gathered the dishes from the table and walked to the sink. What could she do? She was cautious by nature, rarely trusting anyone, especially when it came to Naomi. Still, she could not deny the urgency of the situation. So, where could they go from here?
0-0
Late at night, Calvin Bunker paced the length of the motel room. The TV blared in the background, unwatched. Lying on one of the two queen-sized bed, Hank watched his father pace back and forth. The repetitive movement, along with the occasional mutter, from the man kept his attention more than whatever cartoon marathon. The child should be sleeping at this hour, but the father had not given instructions for it. Rather, since the two had arrived at the motel room, Calvin had only given instructions to those outside the room. He had made calls prior, telling his brothers to guard the motel room.
Six armed men stood outside the motel room. Their vehicles lined the parking lot, forming a somewhat protective barrier around the entrance to the room. The cluster of rooms was nearly deserted for the sole purpose of housing Calvin and his son. The owner of this motel had not wanted the trouble of shooing away non-paying individuals. Not with visible tattoos like theirs. Therefore, The Brotherhood had the run of the area. With it being so late at night, a few chose to doze off, not finding the protection detail necessary. After all, like the owner of this property, there was none brave enough to stand against men like them. Still, an order was an order, and their leader commanded it, so the rest of the men stood on alert, waiting for what may come.
What came was a lone man—a young man with hard blue eyes. Dressed in black, he walked the sidewalk to the left of the parking lot. Raised edging fences made of brick, along with the flowerbed, blocked the bottom view of his body. Red spider lilies mixed with regular white lilies. His eyes darted to the flowers, then to the parking lot where six men paid no notice to him. Solomon Bowman blinked slowly as he came to a full stop in the middle of the parking lot entrance. Still, they did not notice his presence. He faced the men, shoulders trembling. However, the resolve did not leave his eyes. He would not falter.
Coming from the opposite direction, Rebecca Bowman approached. She, too, wore black. Though she wore black heels, her steps were quiet in the still of the night. Unlike her brother, she remained relaxed, stride strong and true. She reached up with one hand, softly pulling the lit cigarette from in between her red painted lips. She shut her eyes and released the cloud of smoke before returning the cigarette to her mouth. The woman came to a stop beside her brother. Opening her eyes, she spared her brother a glance. He, however, kept his focus on the unbothered men. The corner of her mouth twitched upward.
"Like Uncle taught you," Rebecca said around the cigarette. Her brother nodded. "This is only the price of evil. We set it because He doesn't." She raised her other hand, arm extending. Her gloved hands griped the neck of the Uzi submachine gun. Her brother lifted his arm as well, hands covered in similar gloves.
"For just as through the disobedience of the one man, the many were made sinners," Solomon quoted, voice quivering. He pulled back the cocking knob at the top. The click of the mechanism sliding into place finally alerted the tattooed men of the siblings' presence. In near unison, they turned their attention to the brother and sister duo. And gapped when they realized what exactly they witnessed. "So also through the obedience of the one man, the many will be made righteous." By the end of the bible verse, his voice reached the same calm his sister exuded.
"What the fu-?!"
As one, the siblings opened fire, showering a hail of bullets upon the six men. The unlucky were picked off quickly. Bullets shredded through their bodies like paper. Two men hit the pavement before the others thought to return the rapid fire. But they only had pistols and revolvers. They ducked behind their trucks and shot blindly at the two. Rebecca stopped shooting to push her brother out of the line of fire. They took cover behind the raised garden beds. She grinned, clenching the cigarette between her teeth, as she unloaded, and then loaded another mag. Solomon did the same without the grin.
Inside the motel room, Calvin crouched low as he rushed towards the bed. His screaming son, who covered his ears, curled in the middle of the bed. The firefight continued outside as Calvin hurriedly snatched up Hank. The windows had already shattered. The TV had been hit and destroyed. Calvin held his son close, grimace on his face as he moved towards the bathroom. He took a bullet to his shoulder, and his blood sprayed the wall. Hank screamed louder, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Calvin stumbled but made it to the bathroom. He slammed the door shut as dark blood gushed through his open wound. Hastily, he set his son on the floor, and then grabbed his shoulder in an effort to stop the bleeding.
"Fuck!" Calvin growled, reaching for a hanging towel. The sounds of guns going off had yet to cease. His eyes darted around in a desperate attempt to find something to defend himself with. Then he spotted the window. Clenching his teeth, Calvin stepped over his son and onto the toilet. He quickly worked to push the window open. However, he realized that it had been sealed shut. "Fuck!" He exhaled sharply through his nose. Taking his hand from his shoulder, he used that arm to ram his elbow against the frosted glass. It did not take just one strike.
Back outside, the Bowman siblings gradually decreased the distance between the remaining members of the gang. Only two more. Solomon ran forward as he loaded another clip while Rebecca kept them hiding with covering fire. Unlike her brother, she stalked forward slowly as the shells clattered against the concrete. She shot up their vehicles, hitting tires and windows, uncaring of the destruction of property. Solomon rounded a rusted orange pickup truck. He found the cowering men. His finger already curled around the trigger by the time they raised their arms to fire at him. At close range, several bullets tore through them. They were dead before they crumbled to the ground.
The automatic gunfire stopped, indicating no more enemies. Smirking, Rebecca moved forward at a quicker pace. She and Solomon walked the rest of the short distance to the building—room 19. The door easily opened due to the bullets that had wrecked the lock. Together, they moved through the motel room, guns aimed and ready to fire. However, they saw no other body. Their main target had not dropped in the exchange. Frowning, Solomon went to the bathroom door. He discovered it locked. He rattled the handle, but it did not budge.
Solomon stepped backwards, aiming his gun at the doorknob. Several bullets went straight through, splintering the painted wood. He then kicked open the door, almost wildly looking around the smaller room. However, only a puddle of blood on the tiled floor remained. Rebecca stepped beside him, noting the same. A huff fell from her lips as her brother looked towards the bathroom window. "He got away," Solomon muttered, not bothering to check. "What do we do now, sister?" Rebecca took a long drag of the cigarette in her mouth. The ashes fell into the puddle of blood. Then, she blew out the smoke in a long exhale.
"I'm sure my little kitties will find him again," Rebecca said. "Then, he won't get away a second time." Her eyes looked his way, his blue reflecting her hazel. "Let's get out of here for now, brother."
0-0
"Calvin Bunker, I presume…?"
Calvin lied in a hospital bed, trying not to flinch as the nurse checked his stitches. His eyes looked towards the open door to see a man in a nice suit. Despite being in public, Calvin sneered at the sight. "Who are you?" he grumbled. The nurse at his side taped the bandage to his skin again. To get at the injury, his shirt had been removed. The tattoos were on full display. The nurse had been tense for most of the treatment because of it. Now, she seemed ready to flee. "What do you want?"
The man frowned tightly, gaze lingering on the tattoos drawn on his arm. Calvin purposely flexed his muscle. "Right," the man said through gritted teeth. "My name is Phillip Ruiz." Calvin narrowed his eyes. "I'm with CPS—Child Protection Services."
"What the fuck do you want?" Calvin questioned, already defensive.
"To put it bluntly, Mr. Bunker," Phillip said, mouth twitching. "An anonymous tip came in that your child is in danger. What happened last night only proves it, though not the way we expected. Until further investigation can be conducted on Hank's environment, he will be placed into protective custody."
"What?! You can't do that!" Calvin raised his voice. "Cops have been interrogating me all morning! Nurses keep poking and prodding me! And now you're here telling me that my kid's being taken?! I'm the victim here!"
"And until you get your personal matters straightened out," Phillip said with a glare. "We'll be making sure that Hank doesn't become a victim! Good day." With that being said, the man turned sharply and looked towards the boy in question. From his spot on a chair, the child nervously played with his bloodied shirt. "Come along, Hank. I'm going to personally take you to a safe place." Phillip held out his hand.
"No!" Calvin protested, moving to get out of bed. Hank flinched at the volume of his father's voice. The sound also caused an officer to enter the room. "You can't take him!" The officer hastily intercepted Calvin's attempt to get to his son. "NO!" he practically foamed at the mouth. The man in uniform kept him at bay by gripping his uninjured shoulder.
"Come along, Hank," Phillip repeated.
Swallowing hard, the boy slipped from the chair and reached for the unfamiliar hand.
0-0
With her arms crossed, Maggie repeatedly tapped a finger to her bicep. She had been sitting in the same cell for almost twenty-four hours. Again, her eyes strayed to a plain clock on the wall. She had been staring at the thing for so long, so she knew how much time passed. However, it seemingly stretched since she had nothing better to do. 2:15, it said, red dial ticking away the seconds. Nearly twenty-four hours and yet no sign from the family lawyer. She had not wanted to waste a call on that when she knew Calvin would automatically send him to her. The police would listen in on any other call she could make, so it was best not to further link her to the crime.
A sigh left her mouth. It had been an impulsive decision on her part. Panicked, she had blurted out a confession. In hindsight, she should have kept her mouth shut. Still, now, more than ever, they needed their leader. And a leader behind bars was useless as her father had already shown. Somehow, they had discovered enough evidence for an arrest. She had believed in the methods used to cover themselves. Perhaps bleach hadn't been enough…? In any case, they would never find his body, though. Hacked to pieces, and then burned to ash. Well, mostly. They could not waste too much time burning the body, after all. But the remaining bones had been buried.
So far, the police hadn't tried to question her or have her write down a confession. Their usual tactics had been halted because she had invoked her right to legal counsel. As a result, they had locked her in a cell by herself. She could see Pony Joe and Mammoth from here, but they had not tried talking to her. That was a good thing, too. No need to associate with each other in the presence of cops. However, her patience was nearing an end. Trapped in this cell and not knowing anything—it was driving her towards exasperation.
Maggie had done nothing but sit around, have a terrible night's sleep, and glare at her husband's brother. Not that Kurt had been around much to glare at. Perhaps he had felt her utter ire and had made himself scarce as a result. Until now. The end of his shift approached quickly. Maggie found herself shaking her head. Perhaps if she had dug deeper in the sudden shift change, she would have seen his traitorous ways earlier. Now, she understood his reasoning. More than likely, he had changed his schedule around to accommodate his daughter's schedule. Even now, the thought of him as a father to one of them confounded her like nothing else. She had been tricked so easily because of it.
Kurt suddenly flinched, drawing Maggie's undivided attention. She had been watching him closely ever since he sat down at his desk. However, her attention had been divided between the man's back and the clock on the wall. Now, he had her full attention. Kurt stood up from his chair in an abrupt fashion, seemingly focused on the entrance. Maggie shifted her gaze as well, wondering what had spooked her brother-in-law. What she saw made her lips part and her eyes widen. A man she did not know—clearly, a wetback—led her son by the hand towards Kurt's desk. What the hell? Where was Calvin? Why did this stranger have her son?
Maggie stood up from the bench and stiffly walked to the end of the cell. It did little in allowing her to listen to whatever ensuing conversation. And she could not read lips, so she only stood there, confusion rising. The two men conversed, the wetback appearing rather uneasy. However, in the end, he nudged Hank over to Kurt, whom nodded several times. Eventually, the man nodded in return before turning away, leaving Hank with Kurt. "No," Maggie whispered. "What? No!" Kurt dropped down, crouching to eye level with her son. He said a few words before reaching to grasp the back of the boy's head. In turn, Hank wrapped his arms around Kurt. He lifted Hank and secured him to his body with one arm. "No!" Maggie shouted, appalled at the sight. "What are you doing?!"
Her shout was loud enough to drawn Kurt's attention. He turned, eyes finding hers. His hand soothingly rubbed up and down Hank's back. The stripped shirt had blood stains on it. Maggie nearly choked on air. What had happened to her boy?! "Kurt! Kurt! Where's Calvin?!" she shrieked. Hank did not look at her. He only continued to hug his traitorous uncle. Kurt turned from her and began walking towards the entrance. "Where are you going with my boy?! Kurt! What happened?! Please! Yo-You can't just take-!"
He ignored her. Kurt continued walking, unbothered by her cries. Hank did not lift his head to see her, though she was sure that her son recognized her voice. Maggie took in a long jerky breath as the door to the station shut, securing their departure. He… He would take her boy to that woman. He was going to pick up his half-breed spawn and take them both. Live with her boy, further corrupt her boy, make her boy a betrayer. Like him. The mere thought shocked her so much that she shuddered violently. Utter revulsion. No. She could not let this stand. No matter what, she refused to allow that nigger lover raise her son. It made her sick to even consider it. Those two pretending to be family, raising her little boy? It was too much to bear. Where was Calvin? How could he allow this? No. No. No. No. Nonononononono! It was wrong—all wrong. It felt as if her entire world had been snatched from her fingers. Maggie opened her mouth.
And she screamed. And she screamed. And she screamed.
0-0
0-0
0-0
0-0
Maggie Bunker sat on the hard bench of her cell, staring down at the floor. Her hair fell around her head, hiding her face from view. Her leg continuously fidgeted, bobbing her knee up and down at a rapid pace. All around her, the silence closed in. As it was close to midnight, there were not many left in the police station. In fact, there were only two. Two men at their desks. One finishing up paperwork while the other yawned at random intervals. The rest had clocked out just an hour ago. The entire station remained quiet.
Maggie released a harsh breath through clenched teeth. Then she abruptly stilled. She blinked slowly before standing up. For a moment, she only stood in the middle of her cell. The two officers did not pay attention to the movement. Finally, she moved again, stepping to the metal bars. Her fingers curled around, eyes looking pass the bars and out where the desks were lined. "Hey…" Maggie called to the officers. Only one looked her way. In another cell, Pony Joe lifted his head, eyes holding curiosity. "Can I… Can I have some water…?" she requested. "I don't feel so good. My head is spinning."
The man sighed lightly but stood from his seat. He went over to a nearby water fountain in order to retrieve the disposable cone-shaped cup. He filled the cup with lukewarm water before heading over to the cells. Maggie smiled prettily as he approached. Just as he stood outside her cell, the woman reared back, and then sharply snapped her head forward. Her forehead rammed hard against the metal bar. She bounced off the metal and fell backwards, body splayed against the floor. "What the hell…?" The officer twisted his expression into a scowl. Pony Joe narrowed his eyes, watching as the officer hastily patted himself down with one hand. "It's too late for this shit… Was this the junkie they arrested earlier?" he asked the other officer.
He received no response because the other officer had already dozed off. Grumbling to himself, the man finally fished out the ring of keys. The woman lay still inside the cell, blood running from the middle of her forehead. The man winced as he unlocked the cell. He slid open the door, unaware that Pony Joe slapped at his comrade in order to wake him up. The officer dropped down to one knee besides the fallen woman, reaching out to examine her forehead. Once he was close enough, Maggie's eyes shot open. With one hand, she wrapped her fingers around the front of his uniform, drawing him close. The other hand reached for his gun holster. Before he could even comprehend, Maggie lifted her right hand, pressing the front end of the barrel to the man's temple.
Expression hardening, she pulled the trigger. Blood spattered on her face but she hardly flinched. The loud noise startled the other officer awake. He nearly jumped from his seat, sharply turning towards the noise. However, Maggie expertly swung her arm, now aiming at the officer from her position on the ground. Two bullets slammed into the man's body as he fumbled to reach for his own weapon. The impact of the bullets forced him back a bit and he crumbled on top of his desk. After a few moments, the echo of the gun firing ceased. With a grunt of effort, Maggie pushed the dead man from her body. She grabbed the ring of keys from his fingers, and then stood up. Calmly, she walked out of her cell and towards the cell that held the rest of them.
"Ma'am," Pony Joe greeted as the locked clicked out of place. He dipped his head, showing respect to the leader's wife. "Nice work."
"Daddy didn't teach me everything," Maggie simpered. "Still… I don't need your praise," she continued. "I need your loyalty. Do I have it?"
"Of course."
"Good—then I have a job for you," she replied. Her gaze hardened further. "I want my son back. Tonight. Go get him."
Oh boy...! I really thought I was going to write 3+ chapters worth of content and put it in 1 chapter for the finale.
*laughs in Spanish*
I no longer know how long until the end.
Maybe next chapter?
Maybe not...
We'll see.
