But He Stopped Pt 2

When I Fly Off the Handle

"Oh, Vic!" Magnolia giggled.

I wanted to vomit. Part of me had prepared for this, had known we'd have to convince the bastard to mingle with the riff-raff one way or another. Hell, Magnolia had offered to oust the man from his ivory tower. Part of me was revolted that I'd had to agree to let the fucker manhandle a teenager.

The thought brought back some unpleasant memories.

"Please say you'll join us?" Her voice echoed down the hall. "We all just wanted to show you how appreciative we were and... well, what better way?"

The silence was damn near unbearable; I could hear my blood pumping through my veins, each creak and groan from the building around me. Even the wind blowing around outside was near deafening.

"Sure, doll." His voice was deep and heavy, "Whatever you want."

The adrenaline that surged through me roared in my ears, drowning out whatever Magnolia said next. I made my way out the building, feeling my coat billow behind me. My shotgun nestled against my back as the crowd in the alley waited for me. I grinned and nodded. Immediately the tension broke as the drifters and outcasts that had been bullied and destroyed and victimized for so long gave a small, quiet celebratory cheer.

"Time to prepare." I grinned, watching as they all went to their separate designated places.

~*~*~

I looked down at my pocket watch and growled. Magnolia looked up into the rafters of the building again, shaking her head and shrugging.

She didn't know exactly where we were, but she knew we were up there. The crowd below had become stupid with drugs and alcohol and lust. The women moving about them made sure they were stocked up, made sure they kept consuming. Made sure they were too preoccupied with their basest needs and desires to worry about anything else.

And the fuckers were too full of themselves to suspect anything.

A woman in the rafter across from me shifted, looking down then meeting my gaze.

Now? She asked.

I shook my head. We still had to hear back from our runner, a lithe young boy I'd sent to go see Vic in the State House. I gazed on the crowd. Vic's lackey's were starting to really feel the effects of their party, the men that had been strategically placed amongst the prey to keep from drawing suspicion were obviously far more sober, purposely acting out drunkenness. I tightened my grip on my shot gun, anger coursing through me as I caught sight of that fucking woman with her goddamned sword.

I was going to kill her. She was going to be my first victim. I looked at the people scattered across from me, beside me. I was surrounded, for the first time, by people who supported me. By people who believed in me. I looked at my watch again. In three minutes, if the kid hadn't given us word by then, we'd act. Noise below caught my attention. I swiveled my head.

A man had started getting rough with one of the girls. A quick flash of metal in the electric lighting and he slumped over her. Only those nearest showed any curiosity but my mind and heart were racing. It wouldn't take long for anyone to see the blood staining her flannel shirt and jeans, even faster to spread would be their anger and violence. I looked across and nodded. My people, my army, my revolutionaries, lined up just as those nearest the young woman began to comprehend.

I raised my arm as the closest man stood, his face twisting in anger. He was yelling at her though I couldn't hear over the cacophony of noise. I lowered my hand, bringing it to the stock of my shotgun and firing. The volley of weapons going off was a deafening roar as my people ran for cover, for the doors. Screams filled the air, the scent of blood was suffocating. Bodies fell, tables splintered, glass broke and lights were shot out. My beautiful, brazen barmaids were levelling what was left when the young man ran in, looking up at us- at me.