Years later he had his cruel revenge upon the bullies by calling a good associate of his whom dealt with such matters, the very same Italian associate whom would help him get rid of the impertinent Beverly Vincent. He had brought this steely undeterred determination that he had clinically developed over the years into his career in politics which he had taken too like a duck to water. He easily settled into the scheming power broking dynamics of the corrupt institution and soon became untouchable, manipulating and bribing his way all the way up and into the all-powerful office of congress which he now ruthlessly possessed. He owed much of his success to his cousin Frank for teaching him this valuable life lesson of dominance over others and survival of the fittest. Hitler also utilised such measures within his own Nazi party so that only his best and brightest officers would ruthlessly gain his favour, further increasing the admiration that he secretly had for the determined dictator.
He often speculated that he would not be within congress and upon his ill-gotten throne without the valuable lesion of ruthless revenge and survival that Frank had taught him all those years ago. He may have not ascended within politics as quickly as he had done or be within this beautifully lavish penthouse apartment unless it was not for his beloved cousin and for this he would always be eternally grateful. Recently however this gratitude for Frank had been waning somewhat because he had pulled so many different strings over the years in order to either stop or prematurely conclude the investigation into the Mad Butcher case.
He grew ever tired of protecting his mentally unstable cousin whom he secretly knew was the Mad Butcher because on one stormy night back in 1934, during a troubling time within his marriage, the dishevelled Frank had appeared upon his doorstep caring the freshly decapitated head of a young woman. The lost looking Frank had instinctively come to his trusted cousin for help even though he was obviously not in the right state of mind. He had instinctively called his skilled Italian associate in order to help clean up the dire situation that had appeared upon his doorstep, knowing that his ally in the underworld was skilled with such matters of gruesome nature.
He had often pondered about how he had become the infamous Mad Butcher and speculated that when he had left for the Great War he had never really returned from it. Something had dramatically changed within him upon his return from that blighted campaign, something fundamental that he could never quite figure out and something that was unseen within his cousin’s troubled mind. He had tried to talk to Frank many times about the obviously traumatic events of the war but he never spoke about it and always avoided that particularly anxiety provoking topic like the plague, often quickly changing the topic onto the always bitter reality of politics. Many people whom had seen horrific things in the muddy trenches over there had come back mentally un-hinged and dramatically un-balanced but compared to them Frank appeared to be altogether level headed and even buried himself once again within his medical studies upon his return.
However his keenly observant senses had noticed that once Frank’s marriage had begun to fail, this underlying and altered personality had slowly started to reassert control over him and change him even more so than before. Frank became even more reclusively secret than he had been previously and his wife had even stated that he had been in a perpetual state of drunkenness throughout their entire marriage and this had only got worse as the marriage had started the falter. When they had finally got divorced she went on to say that he still alarmingly came around to their home on numerous occasions and demanded sex from her. She had even felt the need to get a court approved restraining order against him in order to stop this unacceptably disturbing behaviour, uncertain of how far he would go if she continually rejected his unwelcome advances. This court order would further push his troubled cousin even more into the abyss of madness because after this, what little there was of Frank after the war, appeared to disappear altogether.
He now saw his beloved cousin as a tragically unfortunate by-product of his own trilogy of tormentors: The Great Depression, The Great War and his own repressed sexuality that he had known about since they were teenagers. Repressing such essential sexual desires would never end well which is another reason why he had overly indulged himself within his own sexual delights because he did not want to become mentally unbalanced like Frank. He had always seen his damaged cousin as an unfortunate victim of circumstance just like he had been when he was being traumatised by the bullies and now there roles were simply reversed in that he was the one protecting him.
He had little sympathy for Frank’s victims because they were merely a by-product of this mental illness but he was also in denial over the amount of victims that the newspapers dramatically attributed to the Mad Butcher, often theorizing that they were merely exaggerated in order to sell newspapers and make a handsome profit. The newspapers where after money after all and his fixed mentality could identify with this familiar attribute more easily than with the true horror that was unfolding. He also had little time to contemplate the lives of these meaningless citizens because he spent most of his time either contemplating political power acquisitions or continuing with his numerous illegal dealings.
He did however send Frank to see a psychologist and had insisted upon him self-admitting himself into The Sandusky Soldiers and Sailors Home for observation in the vain hope that he would somehow be cured of this maddening plague that now joyously resided within him. He already felt immensely guilty for letting his cousin slide as far as he had done into the arms of madness whilst he selfishly indulged himself within his own addictive carnal desires. He also now felt pressurised to do something drastic in order to lead Ness and his team of loyal Unknowns away from arresting his cousin because he knew that the famed lawman had him under constant surveillance and that he was cleverly biding his time in order to build up a strong case against him.
As he satisfactorily pondered a meaningful murder that he had authorised earlier to save his cousin, he saw on his desk the rough draft of a letter that he had secretively asked his dependable colleague, detective Trunk to post whilst they were recently in California. They had been in the sunshine state to meet with an important member of Moe Dalitz’s Jewish mob whom wanted to open an illegal gambling den in Cleveland. He had obviously agreed to the approval of the desperately needed gambling den because ever since Ness had closed down Polizzi’s Harvard Club, a valuable revenue source had been lost. He then read the rough draft of the letter that Trunk had posted for him and grimaced at his terrible attempt to not only lure Ness and his team away from his cousin and towards California, but also at himself for pretending to be the Mad Butcher:
Chief of Police Matowitz
You can rest easy now, as I have come to sunny California for the winter. I felt bad operating on those people, but science must advance. I shall astound the medical profession, a man with only a D.C. What did their lives mean in comparison to hundreds of sick and disease-twisted bodies? Just laboratory guinea pigs found on any public street. No one missed them when I failed. My last case was successful. I now know the feeling of Pasteur, Thoreau and other pioneers. Right now I have a volunteer who will absolutely prove my theory. They call me mad and a butcher, but the truth will out. I have failed but once here. The body has not been found and never will be, but the head, minus the features, is buried on Century Boulevard, between Western and Crenshaw. I feel it is my duty to dispose of the bodies as I do. It is God’s will not to let them suffer.
X
His rolled his eyes with distain as he amusingly smiled to himself and looked at his shameful attempt at misdirection, thinking that sending this letter from California would somehow have eliminated the constant surveillance that Ness had on Frank. With this amusing thought he then took out his finished smouldering cigar from his mouth and stumped it out on his glass ash-tray upon his desk. He then suddenly smelt an alluringly familiar sweet smelling perfume swirl within the air around him and instantaneously became sexually aroused as Poppy’s voice satisfactorily rippled through the
smoke laden air “Something wrong baby?”
Sweeney then turned around to delightfully see Poppy casually standing there and wearing nothing except for one of his white guest gowns. She appeared to be happily fresh and revitalised after her lingeringly long and hot shower and she then casually asked another question as she dried her long golden hair with a towel “You look lost or sad sweetie, anything wrong?” The now annoyed Sweeney then hastily pushed the private papers that he was viewing from his desk and into the open draw as he then replied to her in his distinctly irritable tone, not liking how she had snuck up behind him as he reminisced about his poor cousin “It’s nothing my dear! Don’t worry your sweet little head about it! You just have to worry about continually supplying me with information from Ness and Merlyo’s activities!”
Poppy’s mood suddenly changed from being a charmingly sweet southern bell into an angry viper because she detested being spoken to in such a condescending way. She instantly replied with a noticeable fury within her venomous voice “The only reason that I’ve been doing this for you all these years is because you have that god dame file on me! Leverage is why I’m doing this and that’s all! Remember that I’m not lying in your bed because I like it!” Sweeney smiled as he replied because he liked her explosive emotional volatility which reminded him of the little vulnerable and yet angry girl that he found on the streets all those years ago “Oh really? You were not saying that a few hours ago when you were screaming with pleasure!”
The agitated Poppy angrily crossed her arms and sarcastically smiled as she hastily replied “Have you ever heard of ‘faking it?’” The amused Sweeney then turned upon his chair and thrust his large arm around her little waist and pulled her in towards himself whilst grabbed her firm ass. He then forcibly kissed her before placing his head between her full breasts as he then began to fondle, kiss and caress them with a newly found vigour that now seemed to control him. Whilst Sweeney was preoccupied with pleasuring himself with her pleasing body something caught the irritated Poppy’s attention upon the chaotic looking desk. The paranoid Sweeney had rarely opened this secretive draw which she had found impenetrable to unlock in the past and now was her golden opportunity to potentially get the valuable information that she had so desperately been seeking for all these long years.
As she desperately scanned the numerous papers with great care, the engrossed Sweeney had yet again succumbed to his own insatiable animalistic desires as he continued to smother his face within her wonderfully full chest. She desperately sought anything in relation to the terrible crime that she had committed upon her abusive farther so very long ago. This unspeakable crime, along with many others that the cruel Sweeney held, was used by him in order to manipulate her and it was all that stood between her and freedom from this blighted city that she had slowly grown to hate. Her frantic mind raced at she analysed the multitude of chaotic papers in quick succession, causing her thoughts to drift back to how her current predicament was initially conceived within the darkest regions of her secretive past.
Her unknown mother had cruelly abandoned her in a basket within an old church graveyard soon after she was born and on an unusually cold Valentine’s Day morning. She was luckily found by an old nun before she froze to death outside and had nothing on her except thinly woven blanket which had done little to suppress the unrelenting cold that had almost taken her fragile life. The snow had strangely resisted the natural seasons that year and had bitterly clung on until February, remaining unusually thick and condemning any unwanted child to their death if left alone. She had only been discovered because the old nun’s dying vision had noticed the strikingly contrasting colours of the bright red Poppy and Rose that had been carefully tucked into her thin blanket in such a way that there vibrant petals stood out like beacons within the snowy graveyard.
She had then been lovingly brought up by the nuns and the church until she was six years old because the authorities had investigated her case but due to The Great Depression, resources where limited and they felt it best to let her remain within the caring religious environment. They had all hoped that her unknown mother would someday finally realise the error of her ways and return for her but this was unfortunately not to be. The caring nun whom had discovered her had even kept the two dried and pressed lonesome flowers that she had been discovered with as a reminder of her precariously fragile start in life. The sad nun had then chosen to give them back to her before she was adopted one day by a southern accented man whom had surprisingly greeted her by giving her a beautifully hand crafted wooden doll before saying that he would become her new farther.
The well-known church going man had adopted her because he was renowned throughout the community as a loving, kind and caring person and she spent the next few years enjoying life outside of the repressive regime of the restrictive church life. After a few years however her new farther had started to have problems both at work and within his own finances and came back on many nights in a drunken rage, smashing his modest homes furniture and cutlery. Initially he used to take out his many frustrations only on the inanimate objects but once they had all gone he had turned his attentions towards the frightened little Poppy, whom he saw as a major contributing factor to his numerous problems as well as a drain on his limited financial resources.
On one darkly disturbed and rainy night he had told the frightened little Poppy to hold the doll that he had so lovingly given to her all those years ago and she had instantly done so without question because she had slowly become frightened about his emotional volatility and desired only to please him. This desire he could also see within his twisted and warped mind and he soon then chose to forgo his religious teachings of the church and commit the worst sins of all as he began to regularly sexually abuse her. After that initial encounter with him a darkness pervaded over their humble home and the doll that she used to love, a darkness that would forever bind the two within a twisted nightmare that would dominate the next few years of her troubled life.
At first the abuse was only in times of great stress but eventually they became a shockingly regular norm within his distorted version of reality because he saw her almost as his property and often rationalised his unspeakable actions as merciful acts of a loving saviour. The young and confused Poppy did not understand what this all meant at first and thought that this unusual behaviour was normal between a loving farther and his daughter, choosing not to question it because she was terrified not only of his temper but also being sent back to the regimented church whereby she had been discovered.
Her cruel farther had often used her lingeringly troubling memory of the church as a psychological weapon to enforce his will upon her because he knew that she still had haunting images of herself looking up into the grey and cold sky as snowflakes gentle nestled upon her frightened little face. Her only company being the vibrantly red Poppy and Rose as they both fluttered above her in the icy wind as death had been unsettlingly close to her, so much so that she could feel its beckoning call from the nearby mausoleum and graves that surrounded her. This feeling of escaping death’s disturbingly close and cold embrace at the church had remained with her and had become so all-encompassing that when he had come to free her from the trappings of the church, she had grasped at this rare opportunity with both hands. Her farther had then learned to use this ever powerful fear of being left alone for death’s capture as a weapon as she grew up and this fear would forever affect her in her personal relationships in later life as she was in constant fear of being rejected by the ones that she loved. This feeling of being rejected by others, just as her mother had rejected the very life that she had given birth too, would solidify her ever constant feelings of self-loathing and where heightened by the sexual abuse of her unstable farther.
As these traumatic years slowly progressed and as she got older, the abuse and threats became more extreme and commonplace because her weaker farther attempted to reassert his psychological dominance upon her due to his increasingly frail
health. His paranoid mind could see that she was starting to become more independent as she became a teenager and so he gave her regular jealous speeches about the sanctity of their special relationship and how dating other boys was considered to be an abhorrent sin. One day she even ran back to the dreaded church which she had so hated before and expected to talk to the old nun whom had so lovingly cared for her, wanting to tell her everything about her current torturous life and the truth about the man whom they all thought to be a saint. Upon hearing that she had unfortunately died a year earlier, she cried within its gloomy grey walls that she had disliked for so very long and wished that she had never left her nuns benevolent embrace. She knew that the church leaders where close to her adoptive farther and so she left that day and never spoke to anyone else about it again, this being the only time she was prepared to vocalise the immense shame and internal sadness that had long ago consumed her.
On one rarely joyous day at school whereby a young admirer had given her a bouquet of roses and nervously asked her out on a date that evening, she had readily but shyly accepted his gracious offer and thoroughly enjoyed the evening. After they had snuck in to watch the late night showing of a fabulously atmospheric Max Schreck vampire movie called Nosferatu, her admirer had nervously built up enough courage to try and kiss her whilst the movie credits rolled down the screen. She had reciprocated his shy advances with the full vigour of young experienced woman and was exceedingly happy because he had unwitting caused her to escape into an attractive fantasy world that was filled with fantastical creatures of the night. This physical appreciation that she showed her admirer was so intense that it had startled the young boy and slightly scared him but they had both agreed to see each other again later on in the week because both were eager to prolong this exciting feeling of flirtation that had so easily controlled them.
The Noir Evil Page 61
