This was stupid. He had no back-up, no plan, no available options beyond a reckless, stupid attempt to storm a building that had likely been pre-arranged in his stupid head by somebody unquestionably smarter than him. Billy had nothing going for him, and dying for a reason so utterly stupid would get him nowhere in life.
There were lights on inside, and people were moving, oblivious to the fact that they were being watched. Billy could see at least three shapes, all quite large and bulky shapes in fact, wandering across a room downstairs. Upstairs, there were no lights on. All was dark, hidden in the night away from prying eyes.
Billy's gun had bullets, but no amount in the world ever felt like enough. A panicker by nature, having only two clips with him was certainly a reason to be afraid. What if there were no reserves, and nobody to save the day?
What if, maybe, just maybe, he was completely wrong and, all those years ago, Clarissa Heathholm had not been hidden at this house by a teenager forced to care for his sick and crippled father. There were so many things that could be, and might be and, for all he knew, were.
Then, as Billy crouched in the darkness, hiding from the world, the door opened. The light from inside watched over the scene like a guardian angel. Clarissa Heathholm was framed in the doorway, with two people arguing in front of her in the garden. The woman he recognised from pictures of her in her youth. This was Jess Matthews, missing girl number two, obviously not running away or doing anything untoward at all. The memories evoked through listening to Dirk Fletcher's confession tape replayed in his head. This wasn't Jess Matthews. That was the wrong way to think of it. This was Jess Harris. A different creature altogether - one without mercy, designed by a callous creature to be his servant and do his bidding.
With only the most careful glance from his hidden vantage point, Billy watched as the callous creature itself was revealed. It was not Dirk Fletcher that he saw with the two of them, but only a man that wore Fletcher's skin. Any Police Officer could recognise the moment when a man became dangerous, and this had seemingly happened without Billy being present for it. Somehow, Fletcher seemed more rigid, more sleek and wary, and incredibly prepared. He was scanning the buildings around him and, for a moment that passed quickly, Billy could swear that he had been discovered. As it was, Robin Harris reborn was looking for something.
"I'd have liked him to be a more keen screamer," announced Clarissa to her two keepers. "I barely got any time to enjoy the experience, and I wanted more time to enjoy it."
The three of them were standing underneath a simple extending canopy of red and white stripes as the rain beat down on to it. The path beneath their feet was lit by a tiny lightbulb that was attached to the inside of the canopy edge. It wasn't perfectly place. It left their faces obscured from one side, casting a show over their every expression.
"A lot's changed for you recently, hasn't it?" Harris asked her. Even his voice was different. There was no waver, no worried fearful glances around him. This was a man clearly beaming confidence to his followers. "I remember when you were still a little girl, frightened of things lurking in the shadows. Whatever changed for you?"
"Well, you showed me that the only thing lurking in the shadows was you," answered Clarissa sweetly, as if this was some great compliment. Perhaps it was.
"A lot's changed," continued Harris. He lit up a cigarette and Matthews lit it for him as it dangled from between his lips. So, other people did things for him. "I've been thinking it might be time to make the big attack. Your father needs a kicking, and it's been a long, slow journey to get there already, but I think it's time to get stuck in and work out my plan."
Clarissa frowned at him. "After all this time, why now? You always said he was too big to punish directly?"
"I changed my mind," Harris responded smoothly between drags. "I'm entitled to make whatever choices I so decide after all. While I've been on my little holiday, I've been thinking very hard about how we could break the unbreakable, beat the unbeatable and destroy that which so obviously needs it. A lot of people are in need of punishment in the world, but we've spent so much time and effort in helping everybody to just let go. Maybe it's time for a lot of people to get the justice they need in the world. Everything you've told me points to a very evil man, and my experiences with him hardly say different. I think I need a new challenge. I'll start work putting something together tomorrow."
Clarissa had become very still, though her eyes were darting between her two surrogate parents. "But you said it would take years to gather evidence," she explained. "You hid me away from the world to protect me until I could stand tall and declare what happened to me and to so many people. There were so many things I could do, and you told me not to-"
"A lot has changed with you while I've been gone, hasn't it?" said Harris, cutting her off. She froze completely now, even her eyes. She looked afraid. "It worries me that I don't know what you're thinking. Perhaps I've been gone for far too long in yet another of my crazy ploys to protect you from being taken back to a tyrant. There isn't much more I could possibly have done for you, and today you seem awfully ungrateful."
They stared at each other for a moment, but after less than a minute, Clarissa brought her eyes down towards the floor. She was submitting.
"I am a very clever man, Clarissa," he continued towards the crown of her head. "I have thought very hard, for you, in order to develop the best possible strategy. You have no reason to be afraid. I have always been a reliable and dependable saviour, to all who follow the necessary path of honesty and fear. I have the beginnings of a plan, and I think it will be exactly what you need to complete the journey we started together so long ago."
"How many people need to die?" she asked quietly, still not meeting his eyes.
A haunting smile crossed Harris' features as he looked into the distance and flicked his cigarette butt away into the grass of the garden. "Enough for you to get the enjoyment you so richly deserve out of it."
He turned and, walking past Clarissa, he offered her only a callous laugh. Both of his women followed him back inside, though Jess Matthews had not said a word.
The downstairs lights went dark shortly afterwards, leaving the entire house engulfed in midnight. Billy decided that this was the perfect time to make a move.
He walked slowly, maintaining his crouch and his tight grip on the handle of his gun, through the mud and the grass, around the side of the busy little house. This was home to someone but, more than that, it had become somebody's den of iniquity. It wasn't safe, it wasn't where Billy wanted to be, and yet here he was, trying to be a hero - trying to save the world.
Before he turned the corner, he heard somebody whistling in the back garden he was planning to enter. Whistling generally meant one thing: a solitary person. The positioning meant one other thing: a guard.
There was no time to wonder if there were lives to save or if these people had even done anything wrong. for once, the only thought was that these people were in his way. There could be any number of people in that building, any number of monsters and wretched standing between him and a man who was at once a slightly dim-witted narcissist with a penchant for blondes and potentially one of the most capable murderers in the world.
It was the first time that Billy had ever found a good enough reason to draw the silencer from his jacket pocket. He had carried it for so long, just in case it ever came to a situation like this. He could die, or he could deliver death, or he could be as wrong and destructive as the one he sought.
It was time. He attached the silencer, crouched a little lower, and listened to the whistle.
He popped out of his cover and immediately slipped in the mud, losing his footing and falling back to his knees. His mark reacted quickly, turning slightly left and extending the arm in which his own gun was held. A shot rang out just as Billy hit the ground and, in pure reaction, he squeezed the trigger and shot clear through his opponent's throat. A horrible gurgling noise came out of the wound as it filled with blood and began pouring freely on to his chest. He went down forwards, hitting the mud face first.
His gun shot had raised the alarm, but Billy hadn't been hit. His clothes think with mud and rainwater, he pushed himself back up and scrambled back towards the front of the house. He was followed by the sound of the back door opening and several very angry people coming out into the garden.
Returning to his previous vantage point, he saw the front door open as he got himself into cover, and Jess Matthews came out into the rain, followed by a man that Billy didn't recognise, but who looked particularly gruesome. The main party was evidently in the back, but this was the new rearguard, carrying torches and pointing them in every direction. They were coming towards the fence through which they were being watched.
He waited for his moment, and it came just after Matthews started walking towards him. While her solo ally made towards the side of the building, Matthews checked behind her to watch him movements and stopped looking towards the danger.
In a moment, Billy acted. He popped his head up, aimed at his targets, then took his first shot, hitting Matthews with a better shot than he'd ever managed before in either training or life itself. The man turned upon hearing the sound of the bullet striking flesh, but Billy had already fired three shots to make sure that at least one of them landed. His target went down.
Without thinking, Billy charged forwards through the open front door of the house and up the stairs. The memory of Jess Matthews, eyes wide open and bullet hole in her forehead, would stay with him until the second that he died.
. I hope they post it soon, it is Wednesday already!
Love it.