New Reality 2: Justice

by Michael Robertson

  When Doug said, "Come in, dear," Marie did as he asked.

  The white carpet was so thick it was like walking on a mattress. "I could get used to this."

  After slapping her arse, Doug winked. "Play your cards right, sweetheart, and you'll see a lot more of this lifestyle."

  Doug walked over to a small, but sturdy-looking table. It had an antique television on it.

  "Check this out," Doug said.

  It was obviously heavy; his grimacing face giving away just how much Doug was struggling with it. The silver plastic box was as big as a bale of hay. Where would you even put a television that big? They must have had larger front rooms in the old days.

  When he waddled over to an open window, grunting from the effort, Marie read the sign above it. "Rock Star Window?"

  Once he'd placed the television on the ledge, Doug spoke between heavy breaths as he peered outside. "Look, an estate rat."

  Marie walked over. Down below was a forecourt made from concrete. The remains of several televisions littered the ground. Plastic, metal, and glass spread out in every direction—and she thought Jules' demise looked bad! Amongst the carnage was a man from the estate who was sweeping up with a broom.

  "What is this?" Marie said.

  "This hotel has rooms with the Rock Star option. What that means is you can throw one television out of the window for every day you stay here."

  Surely, he wasn't going to—

  But before Marie could finish her thought, Doug nudged the television and covered his mouth. "Whoops!"

  As it fell, Marie's heart dropped with it. The heavy box spun through the air, hurtling to the ground. When she screamed, her shrill cry echoed around the enclosed area below.

  The man with the broom looked up, and his mouth stretched into an oval before he leaped out of the way. A fraction of a second later, the television exploded in a puff of shattered plastic and shards of glass.

  With his attention out of the window still, Doug shook his head. "If you hadn't screamed, then we may have got him."

  If only she had the strength to lift the fat prick and send him out after it.

  A nonchalant shrug and Doug walked back across the room. "Anyway, Marie, can I get you a drink? Some more wine maybe? A coffee?"

  Just the mention of the word brought the coffee machine in the corner to life. It was a sleek, all chrome little number on the kitchen worktop. When it spoke, its tone was so regal it made Jules sound like he belonged on the estate. "Did someone say coffee?"

  "No, thank you," Marie said. "I'm fine, thanks."

  After tutting, all of the different coloured lights vanished, and the machine returned to its previous chrome brilliance. Was it mandatory that all coffee machines had an arsehole chip plugged into them?

  When Marie saw Doug was looking at her, she rubbed her stomach and blew out with puffed cheeks. "I don't think I can put anything else in my body today."

  While grabbing his crotch, Doug licked his lips and cocked an eyebrow. "Nothing else?"

  It was tricky, but Marie hid her cringe and smiled through it. What else could she do? Calling him a ‘disgusting arsehole' was probably not the best play, especially since she still hadn't got any useful information out of him.

  "Suit yourself." He then lifted a glass. "Mind if I carry on?"

  "Fill your boots." The more booze, the looser the tongue, right?

  After sitting down on the white leather sofa, her corset tight, Marie straightened her back while Doug slid into the space next to her.

  When she saw his eyes were already on her cleavage, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and pushed her chest out. Let him look.

  Doug's lazy gaze intensified.

  "So, I was thinking about what you said about metal and the go-karts."

  Just the mention of his victorious youth made Doug beam.

  "I was wondering where you hide the metal at Rixon."

  The leather sofa creaked when Doug slid closer, bringing the smell of garlic and alcohol with him. "Let's not talk about work now. It bores me, especially when I have something so much more deserving of my time in front of me."

  This was going to be a challenge. While running her finger down the side of Doug's face, Marie spoke in a husky whisper. "But you inspire me so much; I like to know how you work. It's a real turn on to see how that beautiful mind of yours functions."

  A cocksure smile raised half of Doug's mouth. The sofa groaned again when Doug leaned back. "How about this instead?"

  Clap! Clap!

  The lights dimmed and some smooth jazz started playing from the assortment of speakers surrounding them. "Let's talk about you and me."

  Before the music got past the intro, it stopped and the large screen that took up most of one wall came to life. The smug face of Hank Manifesto filled it, as always. It was at least two metres tall and a metre and a half wide. Just when she was getting somewhere! Screw you, Hank!

  While bouncing on the seat next to her, Doug clapped his hands together. The lights dimmed and got brighter again in response. "I love this man. It's the highlight of my evening seeing him on the TV."

  "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, Hank Manifesto, Nirvana TV. Tonight's breaking news is something a little different, but no less heinous."

  The screen showed four people from the estate being dragged from a busy shopping centre. With their hands tied behind their backs, they all walked in a line and looked at the ground.

  "Not only were these estate rats in the shopping mall when they weren't working, but they were also trying to protest about Christmas."

  The large orange face of the news anchor returned. "They want to take our holiday away from us."

  A change from orange to red and Hank's nostrils flared as he slammed his fist against his open palm. "Can you believe it? Ban Christmas! The cheek of it."

  It had riled Doug up too. "This is why we need to eradicate the useless fuckers. They're a drain on the system and a waste of oxygen."

  "The good news, viewers, is that our sterling police force caught them before they could start their protest. All of them can expect to do some serious time. Thank you for allowing me into your lives, and until the next report, stay safe and stay lucky."

  The screen died and the smooth jazz returned.

  After pushing his thick fringe aside, Doug wiped his hand on his trouser leg. "Trying to take Christmas—in August? What next? It's arseholes like them that need proper punishment. New Reality is too good for them."

  "Like the guy who kidnapped your boy?" Marie said.

  "Oh, that's a whole different level. Anyway, you're not getting me talking about work. Not now."

  The slightest shift of her position and Doug now had a clear view down her top. "But I want inside that head of yours, Dougie. Let me in."

  Like a shark sensing blood, Doug's features locked with a single-minded purpose, his eyes still on her tits. Marie saw it coming two seconds too late.

  Lurching forwards, Doug forced her back and jumped on top of her, pressing her into the sofa beneath his considerable weight. One of his fat hands snaked down in between her legs. He grabbed her left breast with his other hand and squeezed so hard Marie cried out.

  But that's all it was. It wasn't stop, get off, or no. It was a pathetic, ineffectual cry that said nothing to the man on top of her.

  Only able to move her face and legs, she turned away from him and his hot breath, kicking out but getting nowhere. When Doug's rough hand slipped into her trousers, Marie's entire body constricted.

  Another kick out did nothing; he was too heavy. She shook and writhed as his fat fingers plunged into her knickers.

  Unable to see for tears, she managed to finally force her words out. "I'm gonna be sick."

  When Doug pulled back, she slipped off the sofa and ran to her bag, her pulse raging. The first thing she grabbed was the gun, but before she revealed it, she stopped. The fat man looked genuinely confused.

  Maybe he'd already said it, but it was only
now that she heard him. "What's up, Marie? What's happening?"

  She was such a fucking idiot. Why did she think she could lead him on like this and then walk away when she chose to? What was she playing at? Everything was fucked. Her kid was dead, Frankie wasn't getting out of New Reality, and she had no fucking control over how things played out.

  "Marie?"

  As Marie stood in front of him, she trembled. She needed to say something. Anything. "Sorry." Sorry? She was apologising to him?

  "What's going on?"

  "I feel sick, sorry; it must be a bug or something. I have to go." The luxurious carpet pulled on her heavy steps as she rushed to the door. Marie then yanked it open and fell out into the hallway. As she walked away, the memory of his hands remained on her as if he was still groping her body.

  She was such an idiot.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  After passing four bus stops since leaving Doug, Marie finally stopped and waited. It was far enough away from the hotel, and what were the chances of Doug leaving to catch up with her anyway? She took a deep breath of the fresh evening air, panic still gripping her lungs. It did little to ease them. What had she been thinking? How was going back to Doug's hotel room a good idea? All she'd done was reduced herself to a powerless little woman, and royally fucked Doug off in the process. If today was about getting his barriers down, she'd only done harm. What an idiot!

  A check both ways showed the coast was clear. She undid her corset, slipped it off, and put it in her bag with the gun. Impatience made her bounce on the spot and she tapped her foot on the pavement. Where was the bloody bus?

  The evening replayed in her mind as she waited. Doug had told her something was amiss at Rixon. She was actually getting somewhere with it, and now she had nothing. What would she have to do now just to get another dinner invite? That was if she even had a job to return to.

  She took another look down the road. There was still no sign of the bus.

  And the way he touched her… He was millimetres away from shoving his greasy fingers inside her. And what did she do? Yelp about feeling sick! Not 'get off me, you fat fuck', or a quick kick to the groin. A yelp and then an apology. Pathetic!

  Still no bus… but then she saw a group of people. There were five of them; all seemed to be equally inebriated. Although they moved as a shuffling mob, completely out of time with each other, the haze of alcohol encompassed them all. It was as if they shared one intoxicated and chaotic mind.

  When they got closer, Marie stepped back into the shadow created by the bus stop.

  She watched them as they moved down the other side of the street, oblivious to anything but their own loud and giggly conversation. If they would just keep walking…

  Then one of them stopped. Fuck it! He was in his late twenties to early thirties. Dressed in leather shoes, black jeans, and a checked shirt, he wore the uniform of a townie. No doubt, he'd spent the evening in some pretentious wine bar, trying it on with every woman in the place.

  When he pointed at her and said something unintelligible, his group of friends all stopped, and the hive mind looked over. Fuck!

  Now they were closer, it was easier to tell that two of the group were female and three were male. Calling them men and women would have been a stretch for this collection of creatures.

  When the pointing townie tried again, he was a little easier to understand. "Look, an estate rat."

  After rolling her eyes, Marie looked away. She tried to act casual but her face was on fire and a desperate need to run washed over her. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? Today had been bad enough already.

  "What do you think she's doing out at this time?"

  The person who answered was one of the women. She had a shrill and piercing voice. "She's probably walking the streets to try and earn some money for her filthy kids. She's probably giving out blow jobs for ten credits a pop."

  Who the fuck did that bitch think she was? Oh, shit! It was Kitty-fucking-Trollope. Why couldn't she get the woman out of her life?

  The drunken man spoke again, "Ten credits?"

  "Come on, Rupert, not even you would stoop that low."

  "Then maybe you should suck it to save me having to pay her."

  Kitty's high-pitched cackle rang out in the deserted street. "Oh, Rupert, what are we to do with you? Come on, we shouldn't be walking the streets anyway. Let's find a taxi and get out of here."

  The shadow continued to give Marie enough cover to hide in as she watched the group of revellers walked off down the street.

  ***

  When the bus finally arrived, Marie stepped forward and held her arm out for it to stop.

  It had got to the point where she was having to use Gina's credit card, so Marie handed it over and did a quick scan of the other passengers. There were two families near the front and four men at the back. Were they the men from the other day? "Um, East-Side, please."

  As she was taking her seat, all four of the men watched her, and her pulse quickened. It looked like them. Was this all they did? Ride the bus until they found someone to intimidate? Did she have a huge target painted on her today?

  When she slumped down into her seat, the smell of dust and urine rose up from the dirty upholstery. Seconds later, the men started.

  "She's East-Side, boys. That makes her a slut in my books."

  "Although she doesn't look like a mum or pregnant. Maybe she's visiting someone. Maybe she needs a guide through the estate. What do you reckon?"

  "We could show her where to go."

  Each voice belonged to a different man, but they didn't sound like the men from the other day. Maybe each man on the estate was the same man—predatory, villainous, and deviant. Maybe the estate was a factory that pumped out poison and depravity. Maybe she'd be better off without a child in that environment.

  "We could take her to mine. I'll keep her tied up in the bathroom."

  The men laughed.

  "She's a slut all right. You can see it in the way she holds herself. She's dripping with shame."

  Could they really sense it on her? Was that what this evening had given her—the burden of shame? The scent of a victim? Marie pulled her bag onto her lap and untangled the gun from the corset. She wasn't going to take it anymore. No fucking way!

  "Oi, you."

  Marie's back tensed, but she didn't look around. They didn't own her, and they sure as hell didn't tell her what to do. These degenerates were different from Doug and Kitty; she could do something about them. No one would miss them if they disappeared. Society wanted them gone, in fact. Marie should know; she was in the same boat as them now.

  "She's ignoring you, 'arry. Let me try. Do you put out, love? Will you suck my cock?"

  The men laughed once more, but when Marie didn't respond, the same man spoke again, his tone turning darker. "How about I just take what I want from you anyway?"

  The tension in the air thickened. The mother of one of the two families looked over at Marie and pulled her children close to her.

  "Oi, darling, how about I take you out for dinner first? We could go bin diving in an alley and then I could stick it in your arse while you're looking in a dumpster."

  The mother moved her children next to the window and put herself between them and the men.

  Who did they think they were?

  Click!

  Marie flicked the safety off the gun.

  "Come on, sweetheart, I was only playing. Let's be friends, yeah?"

  The softening tone caught Marie off guard and she turned to face him.

  One of the men leaned forwards and made a V with his fingers. He then pushed his face through the middle as he started licking the air between them.

  Marie turned back around and stared straight ahead. When would this day end?

  ***

  The rest of the journey continued in the same vein. The overgrown boys continued verbally abusing her, and Marie continued stroking the trigger of her gun.

  When the bus finally st
opped, she got to her feet and walked towards the front.

  "Looks like we've reached our stop too, lads."

  Just before, she got off, the bus driver—a round-faced man with soft features—nodded at her. "Take care of yourself, love."

  Marie paused and said to the driver, "Can you give me two seconds, please?"

  The driver nodded.

  The ledge by the windscreen was big enough to put her bag on—her bag, minus the gun. With a pounding heart, she strode towards the first man in the group—the one who had simulated oral sex at her—and pointed the gun at his face.

  Although he raised his hands, he smiled at her and winked.

  On impulse, Marie jabbed the gun into his large nose.

  Crack!

  He screamed and grabbed his face as he fell to his knees.

  Unable to control her shaking arm, she waved the gun at the other men, and they backed off. Maybe the shake helped? It made her unpredictable. She didn't even know what she'd do next. The fallen man was the closest, so she focused on him. "Drop your fucking hands, now."

  "What?"

  Crack! She hit his temple with the butt of the gun and shook more violently as she shouted, "Drop your fucking hands!"

  The man obeyed, revealing a goatee of blood. The predator had left his eyes; he was all victim now. "Okay, love, whatever you say."

  With a clenched jaw, Marie pushed the barrel into his bloody nose. "I ain't your love, okay?"

  The man nodded, his eyes streaming as he pulled his head away from the pressure of the gun.

  But Marie wouldn't let him escape the pain and she pushed harder into his face, so hard that if he leaned any further backwards he'd fall over. "If I see you or your scumbag mates again, I'm going to blow your fucking balls off. Do you understand?"

  The man struggled to nod and a dark patch spread around his crotch.

  "So who's the big man now? You've fucking pissed yourself." She wound the gun back and drove it into his temple again. The man's eyes rolled and he fell to the floor with a thud.