Devil's Redemption

Anthony

Anthony, Karen and Foggy stood rooted to their spot, as Cillian Nesbitt reached them. Earlier in his life, Anthony had only had the opportunity to see Cillian from a distance. He had never seen him this close.

He had a well built, tall physique with sharp face, a beaky nose and fierce brown eyes. There was a tinge of red to his shoulder length hair. He shouldered the rifle with ease and looked at Anthony, venom dripping in his stare. But his thin lips were curved into something that could be called a smirk.

"Anthony Williams." He stated in a gruffly calm voice that had completely lost the Irish accent after years of living in American soil. "I've had the pleasure of working with your father. Here I am, meeting the prodigal son of the infamous Godwin Williams."

Anthony glared back, trying to make sense out of the situation. He could feel the tension in his body. His throat had gone dry and he found himself trembling gently. His eyes surveyed the scene. The ten Irish gang members had spread out on all sides of the chapel. All of them had guns ranging from average revolvers to semi-automatic pistols. Nesbitt carried the biggest gun of them all, a rifle. The pregnant woman sat shivering, as one of the men pointed his gun at her, warning her to stay still and silent. The father and son duo sat with their hands raised, their sweaty faces glistening in the light. A couple of nuns stood enthralled at a corner, not understanding what was happening. Some of the men had their pistols pointed at them too. Sister Maggie was nowhere to be seen.

He could feel Foggy and Karen breathing hard beside him and he felt a shameful guilt inside him, for putting them at such risk. They had risked their lives to save his but now, there was nothing he could do to save them.

"Sit down, kid." Cillian waved his arm at the pews. He signalled to two of his men and they instantly trained their gun right on the foreheads of Karen and Foggy.

Anthony sat down, his legs shaking.

"I'm really unhappy that we are meeting under such critical circumstances. I mean, your father and my father were the best of chums. And, your father and I got along well together. I was hoping we could, too."

Cillian used his other hand to pull out a cigarette pack and put one between his lips. He lit it deftly and looked at Anthony.

"I heard you love cigarettes. Want one, kid?"

Anthony shook his head.

"I insist." He handed out his pack.

Anthony took one and Cillian lit it up for him. Both of them took a puff.

"Once my father died at the hands of The Punisher," Cillian continued absently, "it was Godwin who helped me ascend to the throne. Many considered my act of challenging Fisk to be impulsive and arrogant, but Godwin stood by me, even if he didn't agree with it."

There seemed to be an extreme silence in the room, it seemed to Anthony, apart from Cillian's voice and the breathing of Karen and Foggy beside him. Their eyes were fixed on the guns planted at their respective temples.

Cillian tapped his cigarette. "My point is, Anthony, I have enormous respect for your father and nothing will destroy that. So, out of that pure respect, I ask you just one thing."

Anthony stared at him.

Cillian leaned forward and his voice had a menacing tone to it. "Don't fucking make me kill you!"

"Now, listen carefully, kid." He blew out the smoke and scratched his head, eyes still fixed venomously on Anthony. "I don't want to kill anybody, including you. We'll sort this out. Just listen to what I say and give me what I want. We'll end this between us. What say?"