Three Months Ago. March 29th, 2008
London
"I'll ask you one more time, you little bastard…"
Shaun couldn't help but whimper as the gun was pressed to the bottom of his jaw. His jaw hurt from being repeatedly punched early on by the Yorkshireman who currently held him at gunpoint, not to mention the rest of his body that ached just as much. Shaun's sore being was nothing he was worried about at the moment, for something far worse was occurring. Across the bar, two other men held firmly onto his wife of three years, Liz.
"…Where's Sheldon Sands?"
The gun was pulled out of Shaun's mouth, allowing him to speak.
"I dunno… I swear to Christ, I don't know…"
The man's face was blank of expression for a moment, leading Shaun to believe he hadn't heard him.
"I…I don't know where Sands is."
The man's face remained as expressionless as it was, even as he grabbed Shaun's neck and bashed him face first into the faucets.
"No, leave him alone!" Liz cried out as she tried to escape the grasp of the men who held her, but got her hair pulled back and slapped for her efforts.
"No!" cried Shaun, "Don't you dare!"
Shaun instantly realized the hollowness of his threats, made clearer by the chuckles of Liz's captors.
"Take the little pro to the back." The Yorkshireman ordered as he knocked Shaun to the ground before taking a rope out of his raincoat's pocket.
Now
Shaun stood on the street corner and looked across the street at the sign outside the pub. What was once known as the Winchester Tavern was now known as the O'Neil Pub. He lit the cigarette lodged between his teeth and quietly looked on as he inhaled.
According to the cashier behind the register of the newsagent he'd just left, the pub's previous owners, a married couple, had an unfortunate accident, the wife was found murdered in a manner most foul while the husband disappeared, though traces of his blood were found, leading the police to believe the two were victims of gang-related violence.
The bank that held the mortgage sold the place for a song, due to the daunting reputation the place had garnered with that incident as well as it being the site of a ghastly battle four years ago in what has come to be known as Z-Day. The new owner had rechristened it and only opened this week, with drinks' prices reduced in half for the first weekend and a performance by a live band.
Shaun couldn't help coughing. When he was finished he tossed his cigarette aside, picked up the rolled bundle he had with him and crossed the street, walking past a drunken couple leaned against a wall by the phone cabin, ferociously kissing. He pushed the door open and waltzed into the crowded pub.
Wilkinson certainly knew what he was doing, thought Shaun. On his first week the owner had a room-full of patrons; something Shaun hadn't managed until two or three months in his and Liz's time.
With some effort, Shaun squeezed his way to the bar he miraculously found an empty seat. He sat and waited for the barmaid to be free and surveyed the crowd, looking for anyone who might recognize him, and someone he was sure he would recognize, eventually finding him on the other side of the bar.
"What can I get you, love?" said the Barmaid as she approached him, leaning with her elbows on the bar.
"Do you see the chap over there?"
The barmaid looked over fleetingly and then looked back at Shaun.
"Yeah. He's been coming every other night since we've opened. Why?"
"Is he alone?"
"Um…This isn't that kind of bar, mate." Said the barmaid with a smile.
"I'm not gay."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that." Said the barmaid with a suggestive smile. Shaun couldn't help but smile in return.
"Well, is he?"
"No. Charles drinks by his lonesome."
"Alright then, buy Charles his next drink on me, if he asks say its from a lady admirer or something, just not from me."
"Sounds like you're having a laugh."
"I am." Said Shaun, "Charles and I, we go back. I haven't seen him in what feels like ages, I want to surprise him."
"Say no more, my good man. What about yourself?"
"Um, you know what? I'm waiting for someone and I don't want to get pissed before they come here." Said Shaun, "I'll have an orange juice for the time being."
"On it."
"You know what? Bring me a Vodka double as well."
"Right-o."
Shaun sat there for a minute or so, scanning all the lay before him. Looking at the autographed pictures on the wall, the bottles of expensive scotch lined in front of the mirror and the antique sword that had replaced that old Winchester rifle.
The barmaid arrived soon enough with the two drinks.
"Alright. One orange juice and one Vodka double, are you sure you don't want me to mix them and make a screwdriver?"
"Huh? No, thanks."
"I told your mate the drink was from a bird that just left. Are you sure you're not gay?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
"Well then, I suppose you have no real reason not to come to a party in Camden in a few hours? There'll be plenty of orange juice, I promise. Proper liquor too, you can have some. Who knows what you can have some of once we've both had a few drinks."
"Well, miss…"
"Rachael."
"Rachael. Not only am I not gay," said Shaun, raising one of his hands, "I'm also married."
"Oh, right." Said Rachael as she retreated, "Can't blame a girl for trying."
As Rachael went on to tend to the other patrons, Shaun looked at his hand, the golden wedding band on his finger, still with as much luster as it had the day he bought it. He then looked down upon the two drinks in front of him and picked up the orange juice. Shaun raised it to his lips and took a massive gulp, and then set the empty glass down and picked up the Vodka.
The noise surrounding Shaun slipped into a corner of his consciousness as he closed his eyes and took a whiff of the drink, his mind traveling to a time gone, a better time.
"Cheers, Liz." Said Shaun as he placed the glass down. He took out a ten pound note and placed it on the bar under his empty glass, got up and walked out.
One Month Ago
The Volcano
"As long as I lived in America, I've been mostly either a criminal or a spy, and if I dare say so, I was good at both." Said Priest as he sat on a chair in the gym while Shaun sat on he ground leaning against a wall with a bottle of energy drink his hand.
"With both I inevitably found myself in such a situation that shit happened and I had to get my hands dirty to keep things going, for instance; disposing of a body. If the need arises in the future, if you find a dead body on your hands that you're not too fond of. I may be with you at the time and in that case, you don't have to worry about anything, and maybe I won't, in that case it'll be your problem.
"The good thing is, there are too many bodies in the world and not enough cops to sort them out, do you have any idea how many dead bodies a New York homicide detective has on his hands at any time? Fucking many. Fact is, they're lucky a lot of the time to find ID on the body, or the body is somewhere an acquaintance will discover it.
"So, number one; find their wallet and burn it. Next, take away from the stiff anything that sets it apart from the next, which is where it gets tricky. Before I elaborate I should bring up the importance of owning a tub full of Hydrochloric acid around, or a lot of hungry maggots, or a crematorium, or someone who has one or the other. If you do, then all your problems are solved.
"If you don't, that's the tricky business I was talking about. First thing is finger prints, you'll have to either burn their hands with a blow torch or hack them off, but the second is just amateurish and pretty dastardly. Next; teeth. Cops can find out who anyone is through their dental records, it'll take time but it'll work. So, pull out their teeth. Teeth pop out easier than most people think, so that's one brake you're going to get.
"And then there's stuff that's not supposed to be there, such as tattoos and implants and so on. Tattoos are tricky to track down, but not impossible, so either burn or slice, same with fingerprints. Strip the body of clothes and check for surgical scars, somewhere where something like a screw or a nail or a plate could have been implanted. Better yet, use a metal detecting wand. If the deceased is a woman, you may want to check to see if she's had a boob-job. That might seem juvenile and perverse, but it's also professional. Silicone implants have serial numbers that are easy to track.
"After that, you may chop the head off to rule out someone accidentally recognizing the body, but that's overkill and borderline psychotic. Either way, try your best to hide the body. Ideally wrap it in chains and weights and drop it to the bottom of a river. The fishies will do their thing.
"Of course, before all that you need to cover your bases. Chances are the deceased die of a gunshot, right? Dig out the bullet and get rid of it. After that, have a drink and forget it ever happened."
Now
London
"….Wha' 'orrors in 'er 'ead, that 'er tongue dare no' name…" sang Chelios, walking down the street, slightly intoxicated. Chelios felt elated, having enjoyed the surprising free drink the barmaid bought him, claiming it was from a lady admirer, as well as arranging for a date sometime soon. He also had an extended tree-day weekend to look forward to and looked forward to spending it working on that painting he had at home.
Chelios forgot the words to the song, so he skipped to the next part he remembered.
"…Well Mis'er Smith and Mis'er Wesson," Chelios sang, he had forgotten how the song went next and thus skipped a good portion of it, "Why are you closin' up shop so late? We just fitted out a girl who looked like a bird, measured thirty-two, forty-four, thirty-eight. I asked the girl which road she was taking; she said she was walking the road of hate…"
"Charles Chelios."
"But she hopped on a coal… What?"
Chelios stopped in the middle of that side ally he was walking through and turned around to look behind him, where a blond haired man of his early thirties stood with his hands buried in his coat pockets.
"You alright, mate?" asked Chelios.
"I'm getting by. Nice night, eh?"
"Not bad." Said Chelios with a chuckle.
"What about you? Are you alright?"
"I'm not bad myself." Said Chelios, "Do I know you, chum?"
"I would think so." Said Shaun as he stepped forward, "So, you'v not been loosing any sleep or anything?"
"You know, you do look familiar… I'm sorry, what was it you said?"
"Why don't you look a little closer, see if that rings any bells." Said Shaun as he took a step forward, "See if that reminds you of anyone you've tried to lynch."
Without any warning, Shaun shot with a punch. Chelios was a shade away from sober, and he was not expecting a fight, so when the fist connected with his jaw, all he did was fall down.
"Bloody hell." Cursed Shaun as he took his coat off and tossed aside then went to roll up his sleeves, "I got eager… I had this whole speech, but I couldn't help myself."
Shaun kicked Chelios in the ribs as he was trying to get up, flipping him onto his back. Chelios coughed hard, then looked up Shaun with angry eyes now sober.
"You… You're Collier..."
"Good, you've remembered." Said Shaun as he went to kick him again. This time Chelios caught his leg and with one motion twisted it, sending Shaun spinning onto the ground.
"Aw, Christ…" Chelios muttered as he got to his feet, "You should have stayed lost, Collier. You were better off."
"You killed Liz."
"Actually, I was that one that lynched you." Said Chelios as he punched Shaun in the jaw, knocking him down.
"Did you think this through, mate? Did you think I would get pissed so proper that you'd have a day beating the shit out of me? I don't know what the hell you were expecting, but I hope it wasn't beating me... You're a bartender for fuck's sake."
Chelios' knee exploded into Shaun's jaw, sending Shaun off his knees and onto his back. Chelios leaned down to pick Shaun up by his collars, and as he did, he heard him mumble something.
"What did you say?"
"I said… I'm not a fucking bartender anymore."
Quicker than Chelios though the weakened Shaun was capable of, Shaun raised his hands and slipped them between his forarms, then spread them with a bw before folding his left hand into a sort of flat fist that he shot directly at Chelios's throat.
Chelios stumbled back, gasping for breath. Shaun got up to his feet and sized up Chelios before he raised one leg and kicked him in the side of the head. Chelios slammed face first into the brickwall behind him before crumbling down.
Chelios struggled to breathe, managing to get only enough air in his lungs to remain conscious. Shaun disappeared, having headed to the other side of the ally. Chelios heard a car door open and close a few moments later, and then heard footsteps coming his director, before finally hearing a familiar metallic clicking sound.
Chelios was breathing somewhat normally by then and was just about to try and get up when Shaun came into view and kicked him in the groin. Shaun held his Winchester with both hands as waited for Chelios to stop groaning.
"Look at me."
Chelios looked up, and found himself facing the barrel of a gun.
"It was nothing personal."
"What?"
"I was just doing my job, following orders."
Shaun dropped the Winchester then punched Chelios as hard as he could. Shaun kicked him in the jaw, and didn't have a second thought as he heard the sound of bones breaking. He punched him again and again, and when Chelios slipped to the ground, he crouched atop his chest, mercilessly beating his fists, growing more and more aggressive as spluttering blood coated his fingers and loose skin hung from his knuckles.
Growing too tired, feeling his hands ache, Shaun got up. Without a word he took a few steps back and picked up the Winchester with one hand then stood by Chelios' head as it slumped on the pavement. He shoved the barrel between his bleeding lips and broken teeth, his finger vibrating on the trigger.
"You killed my wife… It doesn't get any more personal than that."
Shaun took a look around to make sure there were no bystanders or passing cars, and then pulled the trigger.
The sound gunshot resounded through the neighborhood for a second before it disappeared as if it never happened. Shaun looked down at Chelios' body, his eyes filled with bemused fear. He leaned down and turned the head to the side, and saw that the bullet had pierced the back of his head and was lodged in the cobblestone.
Shaun lay the Winchester down on the ground then took out a butterfly knife out of his back-pocket, opened it and used it to dig the bullet out. He then retrieved the spent shell and buried everything in his pocket.
Shaun stood up and put on his coat, then picked up Chelios' feet and dragged him deeper into the ally to where his car was parked.
Three Weeks Ago
The Volcano
" Tell me, why are you here in this room." Said Al-Sheikh, "Tell me why you aim to be the point men in the effort to topple the league, even though you are faced with a high probability of failure, the risk of a very certain, very painful, very slow, very fast approaching death or worse. Tell me your true motives; tell me what drives you, and let us begging to build that trust….."
And so everyone spoke, O'Brien spoke of wanting to prove himself to a dead family, Mona said she was compelled to do something, Lucy claimed she wanted to disprove predestination, Sayid admitted seeking atonement while Priest confessed to feeling burdened with guilt. Finally, all that was left was Shaun.
"…..Mister Collier?"
"Whay? Isn't it obvious?" asked Shaun, ever so coldly, "I'm in it for revenge. That's all that's left."
Now
London
Shaun watched as the body wrapped in green tarp was swept away by the current, pleased to see it drown, he'd hoped it'd stay that was for some time.
Shaun crouched down and started gathering his gear, a blow torch, a hacksaw, a metal detector and a bloody scalpel; he gathered everything into a black bag that he closed securely.
A minute later, Shaun was driving in his car, heading back to Crawley. It was going to be a long drive.
Shaun couldn't help but crack half a smile, that in second grew to a full blown grin. Shaun was laughing soon enough, it was going to be a long drive back to Crawley and his teammates, but it was alright.
"Your guns are drunk and smokin', they followed you right back to your gates, laughing all the way from the new town, of population now; 28…"
There you have it, Shaun has lost quite a few of his marbles. And according to last chapter, Lucy is dying and Priest has feelings for Shaun…. Or perhaps it's the other way around. R&R!
Next Chapter: Jack Borroughs suffers writers block. The minutemen sit idly by as the author attempts to regain the creative juices.
PS. The Song Chelios and then Shaun sing is Crow Jane by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.