Nothing but Nought

three. Peter

It had been about an hour since the guard had left me here, in the cold garage, awaiting an accompaniment to Newton. My teeth were chattering and I really wished I'd bought a thicker jacket than this leather, combat one. Stop being ridiculous, I scolded myself. You'll get a lot more than cold in this business if you're not careful. I stared around me, and only blank, metal-grilled walls faced me. When would my audience with Newton be? Maybe he's decided he doesn't want to waste time seeing me, and one of the guards is going to come and throw me out any minute.

There was a creaking, rusty noise like a key turning in a lock, and I dared to get my hopes up. I was right. The door was shoved open, and another guard, even fiercer-looking than the first, strode into the garage. He slammed the door behind him. Weren't we leaving? 'There, you can't escape now see, sonny,' the guard sneered. I bit my lips. Of course – he didn't want me trying to escape did he? Not that I would dare to try. He strode over to me and yanked me up. He started to pat me down, looking for weapons that could be used against them. I had none, of course. 'Jacket,' the guard demanded, holding out a very meaty hand. I took off the jacket, shivering as I did so, and gave it to him, no arguments. He fished in the pockets, only finding my watch and phone. The phone. I wanted to kill myself before they did – I should've never obeyed Dad and taken it. 'Thought you'd bring a phone to call for back-up when we hurt you, did you, halfer?' the guard snapped, his meaty fingers curling tight around my neck. Great. How stupid had I been? This was how I was going to die: in a cold garage, on my way to join the LM, at the hands of one of the General's (Newton) right-hand thugs. Brilliant. In that moment, I prayed that God would take pity on me (why should he?) and that Dad and Mum would forgive my passed-on soul for everything I'd ever thought about doing with violence.

My vision was going black, I couldn't breathe. Suddenly, the door was forced open with a crash, and the first guard I had met was stood in the doorway. 'Cole,' he said. 'What are you doing? You know the boss's orders. Bring the halfer boy. Let him decide whether the boy lives or dies.' I couldn't believe it. In my dying moments, the first guard was telling this guy – Cole, his name? – to not kill me and give Newton the decision.

'Fine.' From Cole's tone, I knew he would've very much liked to kill me there and then. He let go of my neck and grabbed my arm instead. My vision returned and I could breathe, but the blood supply to my arm was being cut off as Cole dragged me to the door. I wasn't going to complain – I'd just narrowly escaped a very early death. Cole tossed the first guy my phone and watch. 'Leon, you'd better give those to the boss. He'll be interested to know what our little halfer friend was planning against him.'

'A phone, halfer boy?' Leon smirked. 'Really, you know you're already signing your own death warrant by coming here. Don't give the boss another reason to kill you. You're about to meet him – you better do some good explaining or Cole here will get the pleasure of putting his hands round your throat again, and this time, no one will stop him. Understand?' I didn't need to nod. They dragged me, between them, to the door of Newton's study and knocked.

I don't know what I'd been expecting, but I don't think it was what I saw. Within a second of Leon's knock, a deep, resounding voice answered: 'Enter.' Leon and Cole dragged me bodily into the office once someone had opened the door. That someone was another burly, bald man wearing sunglasses that looked like they were digging into his skull and super-glued to it. His mouth was permanently in a rather scary scowl. 'Leon. Cole.' The voice came from behind Mr Baldy. He moved aside, to reveal the speaker: a squat, greying-haired man with malicious, watery blue eyes. The man's fingers were interlaced on his desk, and I saw two huge gold signet rings on both ring fingers. 'Men.' The man seemed to be one of few syllables at first.

Leon kept his grip on my arm and nodded. 'Sir.' He gestured to me, limp, but conscious, between him and Cole. 'Here is the halfer boy you wished to see, sir.' He let go of me, as did Cole, and they threw me forward towards the desk. My arms tingling as the blood flow worked again, I dared to look up into the squat man's face. He slapped me.

'Listen, boy, you do not look up into my face unless you have my personal permission. Do you understand?'

'Yes, sir,' I mumbled. He turned to the bald guy.

'Louis, you will stay here and be a witness to this conversation.' The man eyed me suspiciously. 'Then our little friend here won't be able to try anything or deny anything.' He looked at me, his thin lips forming a smile that was anything but friendly. 'We'll be keeping an eye on you, boy, so we'll know if you try and give us up to the coppers or try to cut off contact with us, get it?' He didn't wait for my response; he seemed the sort of man who had an aura about him that meant people just did as they were told. 'When you make contact with us, it's for life. You can't leave my business, you understand of course.' While he had been speaking, the bald dude, Louis, had gone behind me and, even though he wasn't touching me, I could tell he'd put a bullet through me before I even stood up. Newton waved a hand at Leon and Cole. 'You two can go. Guard the entrance. After all, we don't want anyone…unauthorised getting in, do we?'

Leon and Cole cracked their knuckles and laughed evilly. They bowed to Newton quickly and left, slamming the door behind them.

Once it was just me, Louis and Newton left; Newton rested his hands on the armrests of his chair and fixed me with his cold unblinking stare. He gestured to the other, hard-backed metal chair bolted to the floor on the other side of his desk. 'Sit down.' I got the feeling it was an order rather than a suggestion, so I sat. The chair was uncomfortable and cold to sit on, but I kept my mouth shut and didn't complain.

'Now, boy, as I understand it, you want to join my business?' he asked coldly.

I nodded.

'Grace me with a verbal answer, little brat,' he said, his tone unchanged.

I swallowed. 'Yes, sir.'

'Your father let us down when he was your age; he helped kill my predecessor, Alex McAuley. Why can you assure me you won't be the same?'

'Because, sir, I want to make a difference and I know your way is the best way to do it.' Newton regarded me with an expression that was slowly freezing by degrees.

'Alright boy,' he said after a while. 'Explain yourself, and quick. I don't usually let halfers join the Liberation Militia, but if you really impress me, I might not kill you straight away.'

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