Razz turned to face the sudden noise, his hands on his semi-undone belt. Frank looked down to see a woman draped over the table like a piece of raw meat.
‘You said- Mann said you...’ Razz murmured seeing the clear objection in his bosses’ eyes.
‘Gun.’ Frank ordered, putting his hand out to his stoned colleague. Receiving the weapon without question. He pointed it at Razz and passively fired several bullets into the chemist’s chest. Razz’s torso ruptured thrice with blood. Splatting the inside of his shirt as the bullets travelled through him and out of his back.
The gunshots stirred Grace, and Frank rushed to her aid as Razz’s body slumped to the floor. Removing the masking tape from her wrists and legs, Frank pulled her to him.
‘Frank?’ she whispered, her body cramping from the torturous positioning of the restraint.
‘It’s okay G. I’ve got you, I’ve got you.’ He comforted, pulling her into his warm, supportive arms, ‘get a blanket!’ He yelled to his subordinate. ‘It’s okay. You’re safe now.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s okay. John will pay Grace, I promise, John will pay.’
‘John?’ She replied confused.
‘He’s been lying to us G, they all have. Indy is the vigilante. Indy is Hades. They’ve been terrifying the city to distract us all from their criminal operations together. John’s war with his old enemies never ended.’
‘I don’t believe it.’ She said exhausted.
‘Me neither, but it’s true. I’m going to find Indy, see if I can talk him back to us before John poisons his mind completely. My friends are going to call an ambulance okay.’ He continued to reassure, placing her on the seat, wrapping her in the blanket.
Goldmolar arrived at the door frame, and Frank urgently nodded sideways for his henchman to shift from view.
One of his less intimidating crew members handed him a blanket for Grace’s cold frame, and then placed a second one over Razz’s body.
‘I’ll be back okay. My boys have secured this place, I’m going to speak with police now.’ He explained, heading out of the room.
‘Where’s Red?’ He queried to an upbeat Molar in the corridor.
‘We had a little trouble, he was waiting for us, we had to close the books.’
‘You did what? Close the books? What does that even mean?’
‘We dealt with him. He’s gone.’ Molar informed causing Frank to look away despairingly. There was no going back now.
‘This has been a really, shitty day.’ He muttered almost comical. ‘Get the guys out of here and call an ambulance. I’ll meet you in the car.’ Frank moaned as he delivered his orders.
‘Here’, Molar handed Frank a burner phone. ‘It’s the only number stored on it. You really think you can talk him around? What about John?’
‘He’s my twin brother. I’ll be able to get through to him. God knows where John is.’ Frank groaned. ‘If he works out what happened to Grace, I’m moving to Cuba.’
✽
A harsh wind blew across the car park of the Melancholia. With most of the security men opting to head inside rather than brave the cold. They watched as a car pulled up at the front gates. A large range rover, waiting patiently with its engine running.
‘Car at the front gates’ one of several guards called through his radio.
‘Check it’ a senior guard responded as he himself headed to the small hut that contained the gate controls. The investigative guard made his way to the car. The semi-tinted windows making it difficult to determine the driver.
‘Identify yourself’ The man ordered. The driver’s window lowered. ‘It’s okay, open the gate, it’s John Vin-’ The guard uttered but failed to finish as a bullet exploded his skull.
John hit the accelerator and drove the car crashing into the security hut. Concaving it and killing the second senior guard.
Alone in the car park. He calmly exited Red’s vehicle and removed several of the weapons. Still alone he strolled toward the building, appearing almost at peace. With several men running out to investigate, he aimed his firearm. Systematic in his approach, he felt his heartache ease with each firing. Nearing the building. He could hear the sound of desperate men shimmering in apprehensiveness.
‘Frank’s brother’s turned, shoot him!’ A man cried out. John’s determination heightened his instincts. Before a thug could reveal himself and fire at him. John sent several clinical shots the other way. Killing each person brave enough to confront. A mass murderer in under a minute.
Reaching the side entrance of the tall building. He rested his ear on the door, hearing several men discuss Kingdom’s plans as a radio blared out loud. Drowning out his entry.
He took a few steps back, gathering his composure. Ready, he rushed the doors, collapsing one of them into an unknowing guard. He saw two guns shared between three adversaries. Shooting the two-armed assailants dead. He finished his ammo and hurled the blunt metal firearm into the unarmed man’s face. Jolting back from the hit. The guard collected himself only to fill John’s full weight barge through his ribs. Sending him crashing back into a glass window.
John continued to move through the ground floor. Picking up one of the fallen’s pistols as he headed onward. A walking plague, composed of an inner-rage beneath an outer calm.
Through to the third floor, he threw all caution to the wind as he strutted down its centre.
At his eight o’clock, delicate footsteps stirred behind him. He turned to face his next casualty, only to be beaten to the shot. A bullet thrashed the top of his shoulder. Slicing through his deltoid and sending him spiralling to the floor. Successfully incapacitating the grief-stricken enforcer. Detective Mann stepped out from a nearby room with her gun pointed and locked on him.
‘Well, well. You couldn’t just stay part of the team, could you?’ She taunted.
‘I was never on your team.’ John muttered back, his limbs scrambled across the floor, his left arm tucked behind his back. ‘You brought Grace to Razz. You killed Marler. All because of that spoilt brat.’ He pitched, wheezing slightly.
‘Nico was my life, and you stole him. I brought Grace to Razz, so you know what it felt like. If that meant working for Frank, fucking him on occasion. So be it.’ She explained. John fell into a peculiar chuckle, sniggering to himself. ‘What’s so funny?’ She demanded to know.
‘They will kill you when they find out what you did to me.’
‘I don’t think so. They’re Fra-’ Before she could finish her sentence. John pulled his arm out from behind his back.
As two security guards from the levels above jogged down the stairwell. They took pause at the sound of two simultaneous gunshots rupturing from below.
✽
Sitting in silence, surrounded by tokens of his crusade. Indy struggled to comprehend the present time, and all that it had brought to fruition. He struggled to grasp the mentality of those that had committed the atrocity against Red.
He considered whether Hades was the catalyst for such depravity. He stared at a large map of the city that Felix had pinned to a wall. The old man had marked every bombing event in the last few months. Two of which Indy, not Hades, had witnessed directly.
Que Pasa, a place he had almost forgotten or at least shifted to the very back of his mind. Saw a bold red cross scar across its place in the landscape. As did the building behind the coffee house he would often meet Frank in.
He remembered Frank’s face that day in the coffee house, and also the night of the drug deal. The night he debuted the mask.
He remembered how Frank’s face, though identical to Indy’s, looked different. How through his actions and his character. Frank looked unrecognisable to his twin brother. From the day he boasted of buying Que Pasa, to the night of their birthday. Indy saw his reflection one moment, a stranger the next.
Perhaps like Indy, Frank had two faces. Only he didn’t require a mask to pull it off.
That with all their psychological trai
ts, their mental disorders, their duality. Indy and Frank were the same person on opposite ends of the spectrum.
And it was time both brothers met their fate.
Frank would go to prison and rehabilitate. Indy would surrender himself. Handing the mask over to police.
But not before Molar was dealt with.
Molar would not see a prison cell. Molar would not get his picture on the news. Hades would be Goldmolar’s undoing, his consequence.
Indy picked himself up and exited the workshop. Up the cellar steps, dismissing the aroma that steadily grew from above.
At the pub floor, the smell was unbearable. Indy recovered his mask and slid it over his face, filtering out some of the odours. Climbing the wall to reach his friend.
He lifted Red, and with some physical struggle, carried the big guy back down to Earth.
Completely detached from the chains. Indy could feel the Londoner’s sheer mass almost cripple his back. Placing, or dropping Red down on the sofa, Indy took a large deep breath through the mask, absorbing the image of Red’s demise. Allowing it to re-enforce his decision making for pending events.
✽
Frank arrived back at the Melancholia with his men already on high-alert. Molar stood by his side as several guards reported events.
‘Your brother hit us. It’s a massacre on the first two floors.’
‘Which one?’ Frank asked, drawing confusion from the faces of the guards.
‘Huh? John. There’s something you need to see’ the man divulged. Leading the armed party through the entrance and up the stairs. Frank noticed several of the guards vigilant, still with their pistols drawn. He opted not to comment, wishing to portray an air of indifference to the bloodshed around them.
Reaching the third-floor corridor. The guards and Frank halted as Molar continued to walk on, reaching a pool of blood. The majority of the gore stemming from Mann’s ruptured skull, her body laid across the corridor. Molar studied the blood spatter. Seeing a trail of it end at the fire exit.
‘Who in their right mind would shoot that face?’ Frank rhetorically asked. His ease in finding humour in the scene daunted several of his employees. ‘You four with me, you, clean this up.’ He ordered the unlucky runt of the pack, who looked to his task with revulsion.
Molar returned to the party, striding alongside Frank.
For some, it was hard to believe Gordon Molar would ever be in the employ of a Vinyar. The truth though was that he admired Frank for his self-entitlement and his conviction to achieve it. The latter a trait that slowly waned in Kane over the years. Frank’s disregard for petty grudges. His keenness to squash each one quickly. Was a quality a vindictive character like Molar needed. That and the man paid very well.
‘Blood trails off on the fire escape.’ Molar informed, ‘You need to contact your man for an exit. John’s leaving the show. And we don’t even know where Hades is.’
‘Indy, Molar, his name is Indy.’ Frank reiterated.
The pair entered the elevator and turned the key-lock for the penthouse office. Molar observed as Frank stared at the burner phone he still had in-hand.
‘Are you going to call him?’
‘I will.’ Frank followed up.
‘Makes sense’ Molar falsely replied. The Irishman knew regardless of Frank’s skills in rhetoric that it would only exacerbate things. And he found himself rubbing his hands at the prospect of confronting the vigilante again.
‘I know you want a bloodbath. But John’s on a rampage. We need to control Indy.’ Frank advised.
‘Understood.’ Molar replied. Following Frank into his office before taking a seat on a leather sofa perched inside its entrance. Frank took to his throne behind a vast, grand desk. Sighing to himself as he selected the single contact on the device.
‘Seriously. Shit day. Non-stop.’ He groaned to Molar as he moved the phone to his ear.
✽
Rolling the ever so cuddly-looking Red up in a rug, his beaten and bruised head hanging outside one end. Indy shed a tear before gathering himself for a third or fourth time.
‘I’m sorry Red-’ he confessed and halted. Flinching nervously at the sound of music playing from the bar area.
Why can’t we be friends by the band War strummed from a place unknown. A track most likely selected by the contradicting and malevolent Goldmolar.
Indy moved away from Red’s body and followed the tune, stemming from the bar-top. To his horror, the music was a ringtone of a mobile phone, resting in the palm of Red’s amputated hand. The chorus’s single line, asking why can’t we be friends, repeated itself on what felt like an infinite loop. Indy’s gloved hand gathered the device from Red’s decorative appendage.
The caller unknown. Indy considered its purpose for a moment before accepting the call. Raising the device to his ear, hoping not to hear a voice, very similar to his own. Keeping silent, he waited for a greeting, and after a long pause, a voice spoke lightly.
‘Indy?’ Frank sounded, causing Indy to shut his eyes in dismay. His mild groan to himself reverberated through the mask, resonating through the phone. ‘Indy, brother, listen. I know you must be thinking a lot of things. We both are right now. But I have so much to tell you. So much you need to know. About John, about Razz and his scheming Kingdom project, even about the old man. I’ve kept secrets, but I was protecting you, you understand. You’re my family Indy, come in, and we can sort this out. What do you say? Come to the Melancholia. Let’s not escalate things, brother.’ Frank stated.
The pitch was met with a long, gruelling silence.
Indy felt his own persona diffuse into the fabric of the mask. Frank was never afraid of his brother, but Hades, Hades he could not predict. And someone Frank could not anticipate, he could not persuade.
Indy looked to Red and felt a fire in his chest. The flames of Hades refusing to subside any longer, bursting upward to escape. With his deep, reverberating tenor. He lowered the phone a half-inch closer to the mask’s mouthpiece.
‘Lets, brother.’ he ominously replied, hanging up the phone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Frank slowly lowered the phone from his ear and placed it gently on the desk.
‘I want this building secured. Meet me on the roof for the pick-up.’
Molar nodded in acknowledgement, with no intention of leaving. He was excited by what was coming. ‘Do what you want with John, but bring Indy to me, unharmed.’ Frank conditioned as Molar exited the office.
Goldmolar had everything he ever wanted now. In his head, he prioritised the first sentence over the second. Secure the building before bringing the vigilante to Frank. It would not be his fault if the second could not be delivered due to the demands of the first.
Moving down the top flight corridor. He directed several of his men, some of them well-armed, to the floors below.
‘You see John, you shoot him. If you see Hades, let him pass.’ He directed. A frenzy in his tone. The men looked at one another unsure of what to make of it. It was their dead mates downstairs being loaded up in a van. Molar’s casualness and almost excitement indicated just how little their employers cared.
‘If I see Hades, I’m putting a bullet through him.’ One of them stated defiant. Wanting to remind Molar that they weren’t mere tools.
‘Fair enough. Can I borrow that?’ Molar replied. Confiscating a gun from a guard close by and firing a point-blank shot into the subordinate. ‘I can see you’re all growing restless. No doubt overdosing on your test-boosters, but remember, you’re all getting a handsome cut of my fee. Do as I say and you’ll be taking the wags to Menorca in no time.’ Molar employed. Turning back to wait in Frank’s office.
As an impatient hour or so passed, Molar’s men grew lax. Believing Frank to be paranoid and the vigilante intimidated by their sheer manpower.
‘There’s nothing down here. Call it in.’ One man advised as another radioed to Molar.
‘Stay put.’ Molar ordered, heading to the rooftop to update
Frank.
Frank stood patiently, awaiting his retrieval upon the helipad. Unfazed by the time that had passed since he asked for the pick-up. Molar suspected it all to be hopeful at best.
‘Where are they?’ Molar questioned, only to be shut down by Frank’s religious confidence.
‘They’ll be here. Any updates?’
‘Nothing. I’ve got six on the ground and two on the floor below your office. Neither brother is making it up here.’ Molar stated.
‘I told you, I don’t want Indy hurt. And I mean that. The old man would never forgive me.’ Frank muttered to himself.
‘I wouldn’t hang on the concerns of your father. That’s John’s curse.’ Molar advised.
Little did Molar and his guards know. Hades, thanks to Felix’s workshop notes, was well versed in the Melancholia’s infrastructure. Having at this very moment, climbed and reached its eighth floor. A feat easily accomplished once a person braves the broken fire escape on the south-side of the building.
Few dared the climb, given how fragile the metal steps of the staircases were. Hades, ever cautious, elected to use his magnetic glove as a contingency.
Inside, he reached the main corridor, walking cautiously down it. Nervous by the derelict silence. He studied the rooms to his left, all empty and dilapidated. From the other end of the passage, he heard the sound of footsteps growing in volume.
Diverting into an indented cavern in the main walls. He watched on as several guards from the ninth floor mumbled and marched past.
‘Molar wants us keeping an eye on the stairway.’ One commented. Hades watched on as the two headed for the staircase.
‘This is ridiculous. Even for five points, this isn’t worth getting out of bed.’ The first moaned.
‘Wait. Molar’s giving you five points?’ The second thug muttered.
‘Yeah? Why? How much is he giving you?’
‘Three.’
‘Ha, that’s funny’ The first replied feeling superior.
‘Wonder how much he’s paying Miller.’
‘Probably something stupid. All for walking around an empty building telling the rest of us guys what to do.’
Persona Non Grata Page 26
