Without Guilt

Chapter XXII: Harmless

Apologies for the hiatus, I hope you will continue to read this story. This chapter is kicking off a new arc of drama and action, I hope you will enjoy!


No sign of Ethan.

Mason took a last drag of his cigarette, the nicotine calming his nerves. He'd dragged himself out here while he was still high on the feeling of doing something meaningful.

Not just for Otis, but for himself too. He would stand up for the others that had been hurt in this one-sided territory war that Ethan had started- people like Scarlett and Pier, Dorothy, and so many others.

He dropped his cigarette into the nearby ash tray, one cautious glance over his shoulder to make sure the owner of the apartment didn't magically materialise in the room out of thin air.

He'd broken in.

Admittedly, it was just Dutch courage. He'd been drinking to find the resolve to face Ethan, but as lucky would have it, the scoundrel was out for most of the day giving him the opportunity to find what he was looking for without confrontation.

If Ethan went about his business in a dirty way, it was only fair that Mason repaid the favour in kind.

Still… he had no idea what exactly he would find. He'd just about tossed the place upside down, searching through the cabinets in the kitchen and the drawers in the bedroom, under the bed, in the closet.

Nothing, but that was also expected. To survive, you had to know how to hoard and how to do it well. Hiding things in common places would just be stupid and Ethan hadn't survived this long on stupidity or sheer luck.

Mason retraced his steps back to the hallway, slowly opening the last door.

It led into a small bathroom, just large enough for a basin and shower stall. It looked worn. Tiles cracked, paint peeling, and damp having eaten at most of the ceiling and tiny window.

He headed for the mirror cabinet, finding little more than toothpaste and a bottle of some cough syrup that looked congealed.

"This is fucking stupid." He huffed as he shut it, staring at his own reflection in the mirror. This was probably the last place someone would put anything value. The damp would rust most jewellery anyway, and what use would Ethan have for it?

Something strange caught his eye as he turned to face the door.

A greenish piece of plastic sticking out from the cistern of the toilet.

To anyone else, it was simply the poor design of an old toilet, but to Mason who watched too many movies and played just as many video games in his time, anything was worth investigating.

He moved over, finding the lid to be quite loose already. He pushed it aside, the ceramic scrapping irritatingly as it revealed the inside flushing mechanism. The tank held some water in it and right there sat a green plastic bag, protecting something inside it. Mason fished the bag out, sprinkling water everywhere in his eagerness to discover the contents though thought better of just emptying them onto the bathroom floor.

He took the dripping bag to the kitchen, stealing some paper towels to pat it dry before dumping its contents onto the table there.

Some trinkets clattered out along with a tattered Bible.

"Weird place to keep this." Mason remarked to himself, too giddy and proud of himself as he sifted through the bits and pieces. There was some jewellery among them, but only one ring which had a crystal embed and didn't look anything like the one he was searching for.

This one looked expensive in comparison, maybe Ethan had been planning to gift it to some lady that caught his eye. There were earrings too, some bracelets, a twin box of expensive looking cigars, a wad of cash- useless- and a necklace.

It didn't look feminine; it was more of a pendant.

"Huh…" Mason turned it over to reveal the firefly insignia on the back. He turned it again to look over the name. "Otto… Meyer." He read slowly, instinctively trying to wipe off the blood on the metal. It was long dried though and would probably settle in as rust. "Otto Meyer." He repeated, staring at it as though it might somehow give up the secret of its origins.

He didn't know if it was coincidence, but he knew that he'd found something important and that encouraged him to slip the pendant easily into his pocket. He took the ring too, maybe debating on giving it to Layla as an apology for his outburst the other day.

The Bible was opened next, a hollowed inside revealing some folded paper.

"This son of a bitch…" Mason cursed quietly as he studied the pages of names and numbers. Some of those names were crossed out – some that he recognised from years back. People who had ended up dead one way or another. But the numbers only increased and then he spotted it…

Pier and Scarlett's names appeared several times on the last page. They'd paid lots of parts.

Many other people too had been paying for much longer. Some guy named Ben had been paying Ethan for at least 7 years if the dates were correct.

Mason briefly looked to the other trinkets before folding the papers to put them in his pocket, but just as he was about to… something occurred to him. If he took these papers, Ethan would know that someone had been through his things. More than that, what would he even do with them?

It wasn't like he could go to the boss and show him a list of names and numbers and explain that Ethan was blackmailing people. Hisayuki Machii wasn't the kind who cared about that. So long as the camp was running, everyone minded their own business. And like Dominique had said… he would be exposing everyone who was being taken advantage of.

Mason looked around the small flat with newfound anger and hatred towards Ethan.

Ethan had hurt someone very dear to him, he'd hurt other people too just out of his greed. Not even greed could justify this though- greed did not compel a man to make light of the strife of others, it didn't make maiming and bullying unnecessarily a habit.

Ethan Murphy was a sadistic man and he deserved to suffer loss too.

Mason headed to the stove, turning all the dials to light the burners. He would drop the papers onto the blue flames, whirling with the wild eyes of a man out for justice.

He would burn everything down.


"We had a fucking deal, Ethan." Ben hissed at the man sitting across from him in the hollowed-out bus.

It was a temporary shelter from which Ben conducted his shady business in the oldest quarter of the QZ.

"Yeah, we had a deal. Before Ashton got himself fucked over." Ethan claimed, propping his legs up on the makeshift table between them.

Ben had to do everything in his power not to throw his feet off, reminding himself that this was a beneficial agreement. "I don't see what the fuck any of that has to do with me." He scoffed, busying his hands with shuffling a deck of cards.

He ran a small gambling side business, just to keep himself entertained while his girls were out for the night, working the streets and alleys. The squatters' district was the worst off area, easily likened to the slums of Pittsburgh. It was where the uprisings had started within the Quarantine Zone, leaving behind burned out buildings and debris everywhere.

Those who couldn't afford to rent a decent place were stuck here, with makeshift tents made from scavenged canvas and wooden boards or slabs of iron. Some just drifted around under the canopies of locked buildings or inside vehicles just to survive the elements.

Ethan had started out here, like many of the original QZ dwellers. But he'd moved up in the world and he was looking down on Ben for staying here.

Ben didn't fit into any of the categories of the people here- he didn't have a drinking problem, he wasn't a risk-it-all gambler, nor was he incapable of going out and scavenging or working for parts around the camp.

Ben's business, however, was one of the few things that would be hard to hide from the leader's eyes if he were to move it into a higher end district. He dealt in the dreams and happiness of stragglers who were too unfortunate to escape the clutches of the Hunters. Ben regularly joined ambush parties just to supply his business with beautiful, young women who were desperate to survive.

It was not much different from slavery. Whatever had driven Hisayuki to oppose prostitution was no moral reason – it was likely to avoid an influx of bastard children and unwanted pregnancies that would boost the population of the QZ and further strain supplies.

But considering how they were brought in, girls like those that Ben exploited weren't on any ration lists, they didn't receive any water allowances or medication. They simply didn't exist as anything but faces, and that meant that they were entirely dependent on Ben to be fed. That often meant the bare minimum, and if the pimp decided not to feed them then no one would.

"It's got a lot to do with you because last I looked; your business wasn't doing so good." Ethan noted.

"I've got new girls." Ben insisted. "Real pretty things, you can take your pick, I'll have your payment ready by the time you're done."

"I don't want your girls, the last one you sent me gave me the itch." Ethan sneered.

"These are clean, I checked 'em. You can get Milly down here too if you're willing to pay her fee." Ben pressed.

Ethan lowered his feet, leaning in closer. "You still banging that old bitch from med?"

"Nah. She got mad at me for testing the cargo." Ben replied like it was something to be laughed at. "Heard she found some new business though. She was supplying William with alcohol."

"Rubbing alcohol. I know."

"You heard?"

"She was smart enough not to get caught, and I was smarter to use that to my advantage." Ethan bragged.

Ben squinted at him, trying to discern what he meant. "What'd you do? Trap someone else for it?"

Ethan's expression twisted for a moment with foul anger. "I had her alright. That little bitch, Dorothy Simmons, the one you said would bring you lots more, and you know… where you profit, I profit."

"Ain't no way Hisayuki would've let her go. She's too valuable." Ben dismissed. "Even if you roped her, she would've gone crying 'bout this whole thing to the boss."

"I know what I'm doing." Ethan interrupted. "And you're going to do me a favour if you want to continue doing business."

Ben grimaced at this change in tone. He didn't like being threatened.

Ethan liked Ben though. The man knew when to hold his tongue. "There's a thorn in my side – Otis Meyer. That son of a bitch killed Ashton."

Ben's expression shifted to amusement. "Heard 'bout that. Apparently, Ashton stole some antibiotics after he got infected, looked like a fucking ghoul running around screaming that Meyer 'did it'." He toned back his laughter when Ethan met his amusement with distaste. "Why'd Meyer go for Ashton anyway? Meyer's always minded his own business."

"Pretty sure Meyer was fucking his wife." Ethan replied.

"Scarlett?" Ben laughed. "You don't believe that."

Ethan stared at him.

"You don't believe that." Ben repeated more seriously.

"We found her at his place, doing chores and everything. Ashton damn near killed them both." Ethan shrugged, cooling down a bit.

"Fuck me. That's some serious shit. You could've made so much on that. Why'd you tell Ashton? Meyer didn't want to pay?" Ben felt like there were some oddities in the story.

"No, that's just the story. I got something else on Meyer." Ethan dismissed.

Ben knew that Ethan would already be gloating about it if it was something he could use, but clearly, he was having trouble capitalising on whatever blackmail he apparently did have. Ben grinned. "You're scared." He realised.

Ethan met that statement with a nasty sneer.

Ben continued regardless. "You're scared of Otis Meyer because he got Ashton and now you got nowhere to go, so you came to me."

"I ain't scared of that fucking halfwit!" Ethan slammed his fist into the table making Ben sober from his laughter.

"Alright, if you insist." Ben relaxed back in his seat. "But you came to me for help," He maintained. "If I help you with this one thing, you're gonna back off, no more payments." He bartered.

"Get the job done and I'll think about it." Ethan withdrew his fist, his frustration still evident from the curl of his lip in disgust.

Ironically, it wasn't nice being taken advantage of.

"No, you're not gonna think about it, Ethan. I've paid you enough, you got plenty other sad bastards filling your pockets. If we're gonna be friends, you're gonna treat me like one." Ben stated.

Ethan had to weigh his distaste for Ben's attitude against his hatred for Otis and in the end, the latter far outweighed the former. "Deal." He'd begrudgingly take Ben's outstretched hand to give it a shake.

Ben moved to open a small cooler, retrieving a couple of beers for the occasion. "That's what I'm talkin' about." He popped the caps off, offering Ethan one as he settled back in his seat. "How do you wanna do this? Jump him outside?"

"Nah, we don't have the muscle for that. He damn near broke my fucking wrist one time." Ethan felt like his wrist was clicking strangely ever since. "And after last time, I don't think he'll be wandering 'round alone anymore."

"Alright, so?" Ben took a big gulp of his lukewarm beer. It wasn't like the cooler worked, it was more like a storage container than anything, but the cold weather did the trick.

"He's outside right now, I'll think of something for when he gets back." Ethan still needed to think it through. Killing a man like Otis wasn't exactly easy. "But there's something else we can do. There's a fag with a hard on for Meyer, been keeping an eye on him since he left Will's place."

"You're not talking about Mason Anslow, are you?" Ben grimaced. "C'mon, Ethan, Mason's harmless. He puts on movies and rents out rooms. What's the big deal?"

One look from Ethan shut him up though.

"Don't you think it would be nice for you if you had that apartment instead? Not a dimwit like Mason." Ethan questioned.

"Hey, if I can get it, I'll take it, but I need to stay close to my business." Ben pointed out.

"You can rent it out." Ethan proposed. "I just need to send a message."

"I doubt it'll have any effect on Meyer. They're friends, I guess, but you'd have a better chance of making it hurt if you did in Layla Amin." Ben reasoned. "They go way back."

"You think I haven't already thought of that?" Ethan grumbled. "Layla will get her turn, that snobby bitch. But I ain't picking fights with two people at once. She's got people behind her, not like Otis. His group is small, but they don't have much on them. If I cut off the source of the cash, Otis will come crawling back to the slums."

"Then you can kill him off with no witnesses." Ben concluded unceremoniously.

"I'd rather see him on his fucking knees in an alley for scraps." Ethan claimed.

Ben frowned giving him a concerned look. "You got problems, man." He shook his head. "What do you need from me then?"

"One of your girls. The prettiest one you've got."


Please R&R!