And people had grown more and more insensitive in spouting their views. Carefree of who it might alienate.
The truth began to wane on Indy. Society’s constant moaning and victimisation were becoming cancer to his morality. So many people considered themselves innocent of crime. Yet wholly justified in stepping on another person to get ahead. Indy wanted nothing more than to scream that Hades was never their hero. If anything, the vigilante was just an ill-fated attempt at curing his own cynism. Isaac Kane and his criminal ways were never the real problems in Kingsland. It was the boys in the coffee shop, stealing a seat from a pregnant lady. Hades wasn’t the by-product of a few nasty names. He was the response to the apathy on display by the old man sat across from him. Sitting there with his wealth and elitism. Reassured in his life choices and self-assured that his supposed hard-graft trumped those around him. He’d review the financials while checking the hour on his Rolex. No time for the pesky Millennials or the renter generation. They were after all, entirely lazy, self-entitled and most likely to blame for the city’s problems.
Indy theorised the man’s mentality. Travelling from mild assumption to definitive conclusion in a mere few seconds. He loathed the man all the while knowing he knew nothing of him.
Indy, after all, was a proud cynic. But maybe the old man was in a way right, maybe Kingdom and his followers were Hades and only Hades’s fault. The god of the underworld. An apt title.
✽
With Eva’s lunch break over, Indy returned to the Old Market. Dropping his coat down before locking the door behind him. Red nodded to him before turning the television up.
‘I saw helicopters circling a fire earlier. No explosion, maybe not Molar and his boys.’ Indy commented as he bolted the last lock.
‘I wouldn’t rule it out.’ Red replied, eyes locked on the screen, absorbing the newscast. Indy joined him, realising the press helicopters earlier had circled the building’s rooftop for a very particular reason.
Hanging by a noose-knotted chain about ten feet from the roof-top. Mads Kane’s corpse hung against the side of the building. His body, face and the building’s windows covered in white spray paint that spelt the word Kingdom. A troubling tribute perhaps to Mad’s father’s demise. A demise well established to have been at the hands of Hades.
Red turned the volume up as the blades of the passing helicopters a half mile outside the Old Market muffled the anchor woman’s commentary.
‘... we are getting word now that the terrorist body known as the Kingdom has contacted the Kingsland Globe. Their statement reads "Citizens of Kingsland. We have and will continue to cleanse you of the parasites that have plagued this great city. The Yardies and the Kanes are only the beginnings of this promise. We will rid the snakes, by setting fire to the grass. We will dispose of the rats, by flooding the streets. We will carry Kingsland to the heights it once sat upon. We ask that you keep your loved ones close and continue to act with vigilance. The city will be ours again friends. Kingdom".’ The reporter recited, anxious to the finish.
‘This is crazy.’ Indy asked calmly with a slow rage simmering inside him.
‘Yeah. I’m buying a fourth lock for the door. Either that or moving to Brazil.’ Red noted, heading down to the cellar. John walked in from the back room as Indy fixed himself a drink. Understandably a double.
‘Have you heard anything from your friend in the capital?’ He asked John.
‘No. I told you before, I still can’t get hold of him.’
‘What’s the name of this unreachable friend.’
‘Indy I love you, and for that reason alone, I will never tell you the names of certain people.’ John said with a defiant voice. ‘That aside, rumours I’m hearing is that someone outside the city is funding Kingdom. Not Molar.’ John noted.
‘What rumours?’ Indy asked, perplexed by the lack of detail delivered from John’s revelations.
‘Associates outside of Kingsland.’ John explained, ceasing his speech. Indy nodded and then looked at his brother quizzically. Puzzled by what seemed to be a cut-off sentence.
‘And...’
‘And what, that’s enough. We know his someone with backing, it’s not some religious nut on a crusade. It looks like a takeover pure and simple.’ John decided. His light, definitive voice leaving Indy dizzy in both confusion and surprise. Indy pointed to the television to emphasise his upcoming point.
‘That doesn’t look pure and simple, John. Why are you so cool right now?’
‘Cause businessmen are a whole lot more predictable and a whole less alarming than men of manic delusions.’ John replied, clear in his rather low-ball reference to Hades.
‘I see. And what do you think this colourful businessman wants?’ Indy asked.
‘Drugs my boy.’ Felix interrupted, climbing the cellar steps at a pace reflective of his age. ‘It’s always been drugs in this city. From the outskirts to its very core.’
‘Outskirts.’ Red repeated, lost in his own thought.
‘Red? What is it?’ Indy asked.
‘Rumours around Kane’s old warehouse. I heard it was trouble with squatters, but I wasn’t sure.’
‘So?’ John wondered.
‘Wait, am I the only one who doesn’t subscribe to Rumour-flix?!’ Indy moaned, almost to himself.
‘So, squatters don’t tend to come and go. Kind of screws with their whole rights system. And they certainly don’t tend to come and go in large industrial vans.’ Red explained.
‘You think Razz is involved?’ John queried. Before Red could shrug with cluelessness, the ever-itchy Indy headed for the workshop.
‘It’s something. I’ll check it out. Alone.’ Indy replied, all the while studying his brother’s strange demeanour. Maybe something happened with Grace. Or maybe the white masks had John spooked. Indy wasn’t sure, but one thing he was sure of was that John was hiding something.
Alone in the cellar, Indy inserted his hands into the magnetic gloves. Watching John descend the stairs.
‘I’m not sure heading to the factory alone is a healthy move.’ His elder sibling insisted causing Indy to smile in agreement.
‘Does any of this look healthy to you?’ he quipped.
‘True enough but I’ve been thinking. You said Eva was heading to Amsterdam. Why don’t you go with her?’ John proposed.
‘I had considered it. When the time is right.’
‘Is it not? Kane’s gone, both of them in fact.’
‘Come on brother, look at things, look at what has happened. Because of me.’
‘Kingdom is not because of you.’ John said definitive. His resolve in the statement drew Indy’s curiosity, as he picked up his mask.
‘What makes you so sure? Is there something you’re not telling me, John?’
‘No, I just want you to realise that all of this... I have feeling that it won’t end well for you. You can see that right?’ John argued, as sincere as his younger brother had ever heard him.
‘I know that.’ His younger sibling acknowledged, displaying an equal level of sincerity. ‘But so do they John.’ he continued. Referring to the criminals he had haunted. The people who awaited either Hades’s demise or refrain.
Holding the mask by his side. Indy reminded himself that the demonic-like face was neither a weapon or a shield, but a message. ‘And that’s how they win. Through our obedience.’ He stated, hoping to convince his brother that after these months of chaos, he finally knew what he was doing.
John couldn’t hold back his smirk. The defiance, however imbalanced, however stupid, was contagious. For all his reasoning, for everything he was aware of, that his brother might never come to know. It was in that ignorance, the unknowing, that made Indy the better man.
If someone knew how the world truly was, they would never try and be a hero. They could never stand up and face it.
It’s the naive who change things in this world.
‘Defiant till the end.’ John stated raising his hand. Indy grasped it, giv
ing a conceding nod.
‘Till the end, brother.’ He confirmed, pulling John in for what felt almost like a final brotherly hug.
✽
‘Here is close enough’ Indy informed as Red stopped the car a quarter mile shy of the abandoned factory. ‘I’ll call for a pickup. Otherwise, I’ll see you back at the pub.’
‘Okay, be careful.’ Red advised. Watching Indy put on the mask as he moved through the tall grass of the wheat fields that neighboured the factory.
Red scoped the surroundings. Almost something out of a dream. Baron and desolate with just a single gravel road that led to the facility and the coastline. He knew it wise to be off the route as soon as possible.
But he could not help but watch the startling visual of Hades’s distinctive black armour moving through the tall, beige field. It’s dark surface gliding through the wheat-grass like a shark’s fin slicing through water. Shifting the car into first, Red U-turned and headed back to the city.
A few hundred yards from the venue. Hades crouched low and moved towards a gathering of rocks that originated from the coastline, splintering the wheat field. The sound of machines began to volumise the closer he approached. Red would be on the money for once.
Moving closer, he began to feel apprehensive by the activities outside the building. Principally because there wasn’t any. It was motionless, derelict. Even if the site were merely a manufacturing centre. There would still be security or outside activity of some kind he thought. Maybe it was squatters.
The outer walls covered in tall, cheap metal meant there were no windows and no way of seeing inside. Cautious, he walked to the exterior of the factory. A small tradesmen’s cabin sat annexed to the end of it. Hades observed from outside. Seeing an unattended office with a door that led to the main factory area.
As he moved along the south-side of the building that faced the water. He noticed several cheap and tired speedboats anchored to a small port. Ever the planner, he determined them to be his escape route if the venue was, in fact, a Trojan horse.
Reaching the main doors, he could hear several muffled voices. The most dominant one sounding from a distance.
‘Yes, sir. I’ll check.’ An individual acknowledged. Loud and closer, appearing to head towards the main doors.
Needing to get clear, Hades sprinted and dived behind a few large oil barrels. Landing in a small puddle behind them.
The large rusted factory doors opened. Giving a deep booming echo through the building’s hangar-like interior. Two of Razz’s chemists walked out of it and towards a grassed area. Their bodies tiny in comparison to the extremity of the door frame. One of them stopped and pulled out a lighter.
‘Here?’ He asked his peer.
‘A little further on would be smart.’ The other explained as they pulled out a cigarette each. Hades watched on, trying to identify the individuals. He had never seen them before. Though one spoke with a delivery reminiscent of an assailant he heard at the bookstore shooting.
As he observed, a strong fume sieved through the fabric of his mask and began to burn at his sinuses. He sniffed once, twice, looking down to a puddle that had a strange iridescent shine to it. Quick to discover that the liquid the shins of his suit were dampened by was not water, but gasoline. The barrels he had hidden behind were full of it, as was the many, many containers behind him. He now understood the smoking men’s keenness to move further from the factory for a puff. He looked around to discover almost a hundred barrels parked in different sectors of the factories north-side.
‘Razz must be insane to carry this on with a madman like him.’ one of the smokers commented.
‘Mad isn’t the word I’d use. I think his smart. The guy’s signing my check every week, and I don’t even know his name.’ the other informed. Razz, forever hunted by the police, walked out of the factory towards them.
‘That guy you’re gossiping about will be here soon, so I suggest you get back to work. In fact, that’s him now.’ he confirmed. Looking towards a large van approaching the far edge of the factory’s perimeter. ‘Wait a minute’ Razz murmured, pausing unsure. He took several steps to the side with his eyes still focused on the van.
Like a fertilised egg, the van suddenly duplicated once and then twice as three large black vans appeared. Parking up a quarter mile away. Hades looked on equally bewildered while keeping out of sight. Razz’s fears quickly reached fruition as countless Yardies. Now exiled from Kingsland but forever loyal to Heracles arrived to deliver their encore.
‘Get down!’ Razz ordered the workers both inside and outside the factory. As the Yardies wasted little time in unloading a wave of gunfire into the metal walls of the building.
The noise was unrivalled in density and distortion. So much so that Hades himself promptly collapsed to the floor in the fetal position, covering his ears. Terrified, he thought it best to lay and pray for the hysteria to cease. A promising scheme scuppered as he clocked another limb resting in an inch-deep puddle of gasoline. One low-flying bullet and everything in a half-mile died.
He thanked the heavens that the Yardies had not spotted the barrels or played a significant level of Call of Duty. The sound of automatic fire was abnormal to him. It felt more dribble-some than explosive. Like metal beads falling off a table. The sound of bullets flying through the metal above him compared to a heavy rain pouring down on a sky-light.
Jinxing himself, he watched as a stray bullet hit a barrel at the far end of the compound. Causing it to rocket up and leave in its wake a small flaming mushroom cloud. In all its visual splendour, the Yardies awed at it and smiled to one another.
Knowing it was soon game over. Hades clawed and crawled his way passed the industrial debris, watching on as Razz darted into the small cabin annexed to the factory. Reaching into a small safe inside the office. Razz pulled out the Kingdom mask and slid it over his attractive profile.
Determined from catching the man in the act. Hades leapt up from his position and headed towards the terrorist’s cabin.
‘Whoa boys, boys.’ One of the Yardies commented, ceasing fire. ‘Is that the geezer that was jumping us before?’ He asked as his comrades lowered their weapons to observe the dark vigilante. Surprised by his appearance.
‘Yeah. Blaze him.’ one cried, lifting his gun.
A burst of bullets sprinkled the ground near Hades. Realising he was now the target. He sprinted to elude them as several flanking barrels either side of him exploded. The blasts forcing him to slant sideways left and then right in his run until a final blast sent him flying off his feet. Crashing through the cabin’s glass window.
Razz now masked, collapsed backward from the abrupt collision. Shaking with fear and breathing hard in panic, it took him a few moments to discover Hades nearby. Unsure but inquisitive, he approached the dark figure who was now resting unconscious. His body indented into several fallen file cabinets.
From the factory’s main doors. Several of Kingdom’s shooters exited to the outside. Firing their own artillery back towards the Yardies, who themselves now ducked for cover.
Razz slowly crouched down over Hades, admiring the enigmatic armour. He very slowly and carefully gripped hold of the bottom of the vigilante’s mask and began to lift it up.
Indy still half out of it, felt his neck unravel as his skin made contact with the factories cold air. He awakened and gripped hold of the first thing he could grab. Twisting and pulling Kingdom’s arm virtually out of socket. He darted from his caved-in position and drove the terrorist’s head venomously into the file cabinet he had just crashed upon.
‘Keys to the boat, Razz.’ The vigilante demanded with all the menacing echo he could muster.
‘In my pocket.’ Razz squealed back behind the mask, his voice high and afraid. Hades ripped the terrorist up and away from the cabinet. Keeping the latter’s arm twisted behind his back.
‘Move.’ He ordered, directing his captive to the boats.
Reaching the small dock behind the factory. Hade
s removed the keys from Razz’s pocket and hurled the murderer into the boat. The captive quickly removed his bleach-white mask and raised his hands in forfeiture.
‘I surrender.’
‘Do I look like the man you surrender to?’ Hades mercilessly echoed.
‘Then what can I do?’
‘You’re going to pay for everything you’ve done. The women you murdered, the city you’ve devastated.’ Hades informed.
‘You’re right. I should be punished. I need help.’ A grovelling Razz replied. ‘I need treatment. I need to be locked up.’ He admitted.
‘We’re not going to the police.’ Hades calmly informed, standing above him on the deck, keys in hand.
‘Where are we going then?’ Razz queried. Watching a muted Hades point his finger towards the water’s horizon. Like the grim reaper himself, the simple gesture was enough. Razz realised that any destination in that vector was not a healthy one. ‘Listen, listen. I know, I know, you have to do this. But you need to consider the bigger picture.’
‘Which is?’ Hades replied, stepping into the boat.
‘If you let a rabid dog loose on a child, do you blame the dog, or do you blame the owner?’
‘I blame both.’
‘This is my nature, just like you, I can’t walk away from who I am.’ Razz confided, enraging Hades. Who vexed, tasered the coward to the floor of the boat.
‘It is your nature to hurt people?!’
‘I make no excuses. I’m the monster in the story. But blow people up, women up. Think. There’s nothing in that for me. The terrorism, the theatrics, it was all a stunt.’
‘A stunt?’ Hades said enraged, preparing to taser the pleading man once more.
‘Yes! To distract the city and you from one man’s unwavering ambition. Kingdom isn’t a man. It’s a charade. A recurring news cycle, one that could counter you.’
‘You’re lying...’
‘Look at me. Do I look like the man behind all of this?’ I’m not the masked man. I’m just a mask, one of many.’ Razz explained.
‘Then who is the man behind the feat?’ Hades yelled, already knowing a potential answer which sickened him to his core. Razz conceded that he had little to aid himself in circumventing the inevitable. If he was to go down on this literal ship, then others should inevitably drown along with him.
Persona Non Grata Page 23
