“This is not what I do.”
I felt as if I was on the edge of a cliff. It wasn’t just public speaking. It was asking people for help. Not demanding it, not threatening for it. I had to be candid.
I looked at Clarice again. She looked beautiful tonight, resplendent in a light blue material. It matched her eyes. A smile flickered and she nodded her head to encourage me.
“This is not… Okay. I’ve made that clear. This is not me talking to you tonight. This is not the Fletcher… the K you know and love.”
Someone chuckled derisively, but it was meant in good sport.
“I’m here because of Valerie.”
There was an almost-audible feeling as the tension cranked up. Valerie might have had her flaws: morbidly whimsical and a bit too keen on the scalpels and morphine, to name a few. These aside, she was the Midnight Hour. Alongside Dante, she was the life-beat of the club. It was more than a club; it was a union, a community, a cult of those that 2012 had forgotten or discarded. They owed her.
“Some of you may blame me for what happened. For those of you who aren’t aware, RailTech was here because of me. I had Valerie look at something, something of theirs, and they came to take it back. They came to destroy the evidence. They came because of me, and Valerie died because of it.
“I’m not going to lie to you all. Normally, I would. Normally I’d do whatever I could, but that’s not what I need right now. That’s not what you need right now. I’m not sorry. I never have been. I wish I was sorry. I lost a friend and a companion that night, and god knows those are few and far between these days. I lost one of the few people I could trust, wholly and completely. She died because of me, by my hand. I killed my best friend.”
I lowered the microphone by a fraction. Something writhed in my chest, twisting and almost nervous.
“RailTech took something from me, from all of us. I suggest we even the score.”
Clarice nodded again. Murmurs starts to flit around the club. The restlessness rumbled and rose.
“RailTech didn’t just take something from us. They gave us something, we were all just too preoccupied to notice. RailTech gassed us with angel-rage that night. Every single one of us.”
Gasps.
“The hypno addicts didn’t notice, but they were having seizures. The rage we all felt? That desire to just leap into the fray, leap into the writhing pit of bodies and grinning flesh?
“Angel-rage. Don’t tell me none of you felt it. And because of that, because of the rage that flourished, RailTech could retaliate without fear of consequences. They baited us into violence and then checked us on their level. They played us. They played us with our own poisons.”
There were a lot of angry expressions now. Clarice was wide-eyed. Dante whispered something in my ear, some form of “Are you sure?”
I nodded and continued. “So. Who wants to fight?”
The noise cut over the chatter and pulled it down to a hush. I repeated myself.
“Who wants to fight?”
The club was silent. Every eye was on me. The future teetered precariously.
Dante raised his hand.
Clarice raised her hand.
A woman in her late thirties with blue hair raised her hand. A young man with a goatee raised his hand. The angry-looking woman to his left raised her hand.
The effect rippled outwards. In a matter of seconds the entire club had raised their arms in silent assent. I found myself grinning, broadly.
I had an army.
***
Later that night, once the plans were set, I approached Clarice. She waved her drink at me and winked.
“Impressive. You didn’t even need to throw anyone to the floor.”
Fwow him to the fwoor!
For some reason the Monty Python skit stuck in my brain. I cracked a broad smile and raised my drink in response.
“I’m not going to apologise.”
“It’s okay. I understand now. Should have just asked.”
“I just went over this. It’s not me.”
“I know.”
Her smile was coy. I had to ask a question, but I phrased it as a statement.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, actually.”
The smile stretched out further and she gave me a sly glance.
“You’re not as scary as you think you are, K.”
“Oh, yes I am.”
“Right. You are. But what I actually wanted to say, was that your fear isn’t as devastating as you think it might be. Maybe not to me, at least.”
I cocked my head. “You lost me.”
“I thought I was going to die that night. Twenty-twelve affected everyone, some more than others. I lost everyone that year. Not in the looting. Not in the violence. I lost my family to the Red Masque. They were in South Africa at the time, Cape Town. I watched my father fall into bloody convulsions over a goddamn Skype call. Everything went belly-up, but I was dead inside. I was dead.
“Then, you came along. Not at the Midnight Hour, no. You were fun, but that wasn’t enough. You arrived at my house and bashed my head into my mirror, and I thought I was going to die. I thought that was it. And when I was confronted with that grim reality, I realised I didn’t want to die. You kicked the deadness inside, K. You went full Lazarus on me. Strange as it seems, I owe you, even if it kills me.”
I smiled and responded. For a second I felt fully authentic, just like when I addressed the club. “Thank you, I guess. I’ll take all the help I can get.”
***
I stood on the very edge of the gutterage, looking down into the sanitised city below. Behind me flocked a crew of Midnighters, armed to the teeth, following my gaze intently.
We were all high out of our minds.
My jaws worked tirelessly on a small piece of gum. I didn’t even know where it came from. I think it was releasing angel-rage into my system, but I don’t know for sure.
Chew, chew, chew.
We were waiting for the signal from Clarice, who had been tasked with distracting the patrolling team while we could close in. I fidgeted with my knives. Behind me, the grinning flesh fidgeted too.
This would be our night. The city would not rise as it did today, but would instead wake in blood and fear. RailTech, the armed forces—they would learn the error of their ways. They would learn not to poke the sleeping psychopath.
A reckoning.
Clarice was taking her time. She had staggered into the street almost an hour ago, clothes torn, with the left side of her face slicked with red. The perfect bait. It helped that most of the patrols knew her from her time as a volunteer worker. Once the patrols were out, we could move forward and into the city. Eat it from within, like wasp larvae.
The silent radio in my right hand hissed into life. A dead voice spoke through the interference.
“Be ready.”
I started descending the stairs, nervous energy taking them two at a time, followed wordlessly by the others. As I reached the streets, I heard a single, muffled shot. I broke into a dash.
Chew, chew, chew.
I spun into an alleyway onto three figures. One was dead, a red smile across the neck, while the other was thrashing meekly.
Clarice sat on his chest, blood seeping from a wound in her side. The guard was not so lucky; his jaw had been dislocated and I saw the roll of knuckles through his throat as Clarice flexed her fingers. She turned, and I could see that every capillary in her eye had blown.
“I can see the appeal.”
Her voice was flat; I’ve heard more warmth in a death sentence. The struggles of her prisoner ceased, face purple and eyes bulging. I was a big fan of the Clarice-Lazarus (Clazarus?).
Chew, chew, chew.
She withdrew her hand and began absent-mindedly picking flecks from under her fingernails. A dusky laugh rippled among us.
“Ready?”
What little presence of mind I had left compelled me to check her wound. It was clean, and despite the blood nothin
g major had been hit. She would be fine. The designer drugs carried her forwards.
“Ready.”
Chew, chew, chew.
We crossed over the streets, into the city. The bodies would be discovered soon, but not soon enough. More and more of us gathered, waiting in shadowy wings, until our number was well over fifty. The fidgeting was getting unbearable now, and I saw Dante working a knife into his forearm.
“Go.”
From the silence, there came a baleful whooping, and our throng divided through the city. I struck out towards the next patrol, accompanied by those in search of a challenge. I could already feel the cogs falling into place, mobilising and readying themselves for the inevitable torrent of spanners.
Chew, chew, chew.
It wasn’t long before we slashed into the first inner city patrol. Where they had automatic weapons, we had surprise and fear; they never stood a chance. Three were gunned down as they came into sight, forcing the rest behind cover and allowing us to close in.
I recall Clarice falling out of the darkness, onto the back of one of the survivors. She twisted his head around and kissed him fully and lustily.
Shock, pain and fear flashed across his eyes. She stole his heart and—thanks to her teeth—most of his face. The other guards were dumbstruck as we closed those crucial final metres.
Chew, chew, chew.
We ran through three other patrols before I made it to the city centre. Clarice and Dante were still with me, alongside a gaunt set of twins. As we arrived, a shockwave ripped through us, forcing us to our knees. The explosion had come from the barracks; a flare had been crying for help from their position for the past few minutes. I assumed we had broken through to their armoury and pulled the pin on the entire operation.
Thunderous heartbeats carried adrenaline and angel-rage through my system with an ever-increasing tempo, lifting me back into a sprint.
RailTech. The glass monolith dominated my field of vision as we ran closer, fire-flickered panes shimmering until a grenade—or was that a missile?—from the twins burrowed a savage hole in its flank. I leaped through the opening, laughing, and the howling rage consumed my actions and my memory.
Chew, chew, crunch?
Awareness returned to me in a bloody rush. Redshirt-viscera splattered the walls, the doors, even the ceiling. There was no longer a piece of gum in my mouth. I loosened my jaw to let the body drop and the jugular spurt freely. I regretted it immediately, and the void was rapidly filled with the gristlebone of fingers. I burst into a room, stared into terrified eyes, and released a vile banshee wail.
“Surprise punch!” I screamed, before shooting him in the face. That was the surprise.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
We rode the vertical bloodwave, ascending through throes of passion in a crimson elevator. The door pinged. Clarice, Dante and I spilled out like so many innards before the chill air shocked me into disengaging. A snap of clarity sucked the colour from the red and transferred it to the rest of the spectrum; the air around me suddenly tingled with life.
The twins were nowhere to be seen.
The wave crested and broke upon my mind, allowing for more prolonged snatches of sanity while I stalked the hallways. I had to find...something. The gum—wait, I forgot: flesh—tasted metallic on my tongue and I hocked it over the beige carpet. The digit seemed pitifully small. I found myself screaming through the empty spaces.
“Strauch! Strauch! It’s time to play!”
There was a heavy heartbeat in my ears. I was slowly coming down. My plan came back into a sharper relief. Deception in chaos. Chaos from deception. I checked my floor: eleven. I had to get to twelve.
A friendly arm had kept the elevator open for me. It wasn’t attached to the owner. I kicked it back inside and pressed the button, leaving Dante and Clarice behind. My grudge was to be settled alone.
There was no public elevator to Strauch’s floor. I had to draw him out. I reached the network room as the tell-tale drips of pleasure started seeping through my mind. I forced myself to focus on my goal: this was no time for
Oh god
distractions. Outside, in the streets, sirens were blasting. Fire spilled from buildings. The gunshots hadn’t died down. I continued to tear at the network cables, re-arranging connections. All part of the plan.
not now
My mind swooned for a second. I scrabbled around in my
Jesus
pockets for another dose, anything to keep the fury raging, anything to keep the wheels of anger rolling. Nothing.
…Shit.
I shut down. Bliss burst through my blood. A graphic moan forced itself out of my throat and I slumped to the floor, wracked with pleasure. I dug my nails into my leg in an attempt to ground myself. It didn’t work.
Oh god oh god oh god focus you cunt you idiot oh god yes
This is why I didn’t do angel-rage. This eclipsing moment, this utter rush of joy. The Crippling Climax. I forced myself into a heavy, slamming rhythm of breath, but the burning in my chest did nothing to block the flood. My thoughts formed a slurry of expletives until I was eventually just screaming “Fuck yes,” over and over again.
#0002
“One in passion, one in premeditation. I chose her for her eyes. Stark green balls, entrancing, beautiful. She had the daintiest smile you’ve ever seen.
I broke into her apartment. It wasn’t hard—she left her keys under the mat. I broke into her apartment while she slept and beat her to death with a shovel. Her screams brought attention, but I escaped without being seen. I hope.
“So much power. I raised that shovel and I was God. There was blood everywhere. It was even more beautiful than she was.
“This is your first real step down the rabbit hole, K. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
27: Thrash, Twitch, Triumph
Reality flickered back in snatches—great, jarring snatches that hazed in and out. I don’t know long I stayed there, but it couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds. The Crippling Climax didn’t last long. It just felt like it did.
I regained control of my legs and scrambled upright. I shook, unsteady, before thrashing at the network panel again. It was all part of the Plan. I fired up the monitor and tapped frantically, with as much coherence as I could muster. Everything had to be perfect and it had to be perfectly controllable. Control was tied to my phone.
I heard gunshots, inside the building this time. I finished my business and stepped outside, keeping an eye out for mercenaries. The coast was clear. I screamed out again.
“Eric! I’m here! Come settle your score!”
I fired a round into the brickwork, and another through the window. The glass shattered and fell a long way into the street below. The carnage still hadn’t peaked. A bursting sense of pride filled my chest.
You did this. This is all you. You started this chaos.
I spent a moment soaking in the orange light. The building across had gouts of flame bursting from the windows. Someone tumbled from a balcony, hit the road and was still. I shifted my gaze to the left. Muzzle-flashes peppered the road through the comparative darkness. It was the military, caught way over their heads and surrounded. We’d scavenged what we could, picked the corpses clean. We outgunned them.
Meet the New-New World. Same as the Old-New World.
Screams started up from the street. A cluster of civilians ran, scared and aimless. Their shepherds howled and nipped at their heels. I turned towards the camera.
“I know you’re in there, Strauch. Don’t hide.” My voice morphed into a feral snarl. I took to the stairwell and descended. I slid down the banister, almost giggling. It was a blur down to the fourth floor.
“I’m waiting!”
A guard was dragging himself along the ground. A knife had pinned a piece of paper to his shoulder blade. It read “Kick Me”. I stepped behind him and complied, punting him between the legs, before I pulled his head back and smiled for the camera.
“Waiti
ng!” My voice was almost sing-song now. I squeezed the trigger and drenched my hands in blood.
The private elevator pinged and I danced back into the shadows.
This is it this is it time to draw him in and sucker punch all the blood out his body. This is it this is it this is it, come on come on come on let’s go let’s roll let’s boogie I want to do this I want to party let’s bring the thunder. Lock and load.
There was a metallic clank as the doors opened. I hugged the wall and readied myself. The sound of clapping emerged from the corridor.
“This is all very impressive, K.”
I sighed in annoyance and shouted, “Just Fletcher, we’ve been through this.”
“Very impressive. Raise an army from the depths of the filth, invade before the sun rises. Leave a trail of twitching corpses in your wake. Soak the streets in blood. What really impresses me is what you did to my men.”
He stepped into the computer room. I raised my pistol and fired. There was an impact, but he shrugged off the shot. RailTechnology at its finest. I rolled under a desk and leopard crawled to another position. Strauch’s head shifted left and right in search of me. I lifted up and fired again, finding his shoulder. He gave an annoyed grunt. A burst of returning fire shredded the computer next to me, but I was already moving to another spot.
“This is cute, K.”
“Fletcher.”
“What was the most impressive was what happened to my men. They were so well trained, even the ones in the lobby, and all it took was a handful of tweaked-up psychotics to tear through them. We should start hiring from the gutterages.”
I was behind him now. I slowly crept closer. The neck-chink weakness stood out starkly. I was so close.
This is it.
He saw me coming. Maybe I wasn’t quite quiet enough, or a shadow gave the game away. Maybe his helmet had rear-view mirrors. His finger was already pulling the trigger as he swung around; it was my saving grace. I shot him in the arm and leaped to the right, rolling along the carpets. The ringing sounds drowned my movements and I shifted to another spot. I was chipping at his endurance, drib by drab.
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