The Psycho (The Soldiers of Anarchy 1)

Total and utter crap if ever I saw it. But it did give the room that whole football stand feel. Brandon Mathers was an English man and proud of it, that much was clear. But Mathers loved himself too much, and if I had my way, I’d choke the fucker with one of his horse shit banners and show him what real killer instinct looked like. It didn’t matter how much you tried, you couldn’t polish a turd, but he thought his was solid fucking gold. It was going to be fun to see the mighty fall so hard.

“We’ve saved you the perfect spot to watch our victory,” Colton came up behind us and yelled in our ears over the noise of the crowd. We both turned around and then looked up at the first level platform that he was gesturing to, where Will and Tyler stood, looking smug with their arms folded. Like us, they were ready for show-time. Ready to cash in and then witness the gold boys of Sandland crash and burn. This was one defeat we were going to enjoy gloating over.

Mathers was fighting Joe Hazel. We knew Hazel, and he knew how important this fight was to us. He was under strict instructions not to go down under any circumstances, but he didn’t know we’d thrown the fight for him. The kid needed a confidence boost, and thinking he’d beaten the unbeatable Brandon Mathers would do that for anyone. So, we were going to keep that little gem on the downlow. We weren’t all bad, after all. Call it our Brinton youth support and investment scheme. He’d think he was the dog’s bollocks for a few weeks, and we’d have another puppet we could manipulate. See, always a win-win.

We took our places on the platform overlooking the ring. Two guys were finishing up their fight as the people chanted for Mathers. I scanned the heaving crowds below and spotted Finn Knowles, Ryan Hardy, and Zak Atwood standing to the side of the ring with faces like thunder. They didn’t see us. Shame really. I wanted them to know we were here. I wanted our presence to unnerve them. They thought they were kings, but we were here to make sure they knew their thrones were about to be crushed. By tomorrow, their crowns would be mangled in the dirt, right where they belonged.

The spotlights suddenly dimmed and the energy from the crowd intensified, making my stomach turn over with anticipation. A wave of excitement ran around the room, and even I felt a ripple run through me–and I was a fucking cold-hearted bastard. I gripped onto the railings and braced myself. This was going to be even more fun than skewering Harvey the nonce.

The speakers boomed, sending shockwaves through our bodies as the strobe lights danced around. The sound of Rage Against the Machine, ‘Killing in the Name,’ filled the air and I could feel myself giving an internal eye roll at the tackiness of it all. Colton couldn’t contain his excitement and whooped next to me, leaning forward over the railings as he shouted the words to the song–along with the rest of the crowd. However, I stayed calm, letting the moment sink in. Mathers was giving us a message here. He wasn’t going to do what we told him. This song was his, ‘Fuck you,’ to us. It didn’t bother me in the slightest. If anything, I liked knowing that we’d gotten to him. He was so riled up he’d taken to using throwback nineties songs to try and argue with us. Just more proof that the guy had zero class.

“He’s not gonna throw this fight, is he?” Devon yelled into my ear.

I shrugged, showing that I didn’t care one way or the other. “It is what it is,” I replied.

I’d never make our success dependent on the actions of someone like Brandon Mathers. Whatever happened here tonight, we were going to leave with what was owed to us. We had a payday coming, end of.

“It’s fucking awesome is what it is,” Colton said, laughing as an over-confident Mathers emerged from the shadows, strutting towards the ring as Hazel trailed behind him.

Both men entered the fight zone and danced about as the crowd lapped it up. Then Mathers took control, launching into another one of his pompous pre-match performances. The guy was spouting bullshit like he was on a platform at speakers’ corner in Hyde Park. He needed to get over himself. Everyone cheered and heckled as he used his verbal punches to try and unnerve Hazel. But his threats and bravado had the opposite effect on me. It made me smile, knowing that their hero was about to become the biggest mug here, and it was all because of us, the soldiers of anarchy.

The crowd ate it all up, of course, and even Colton shouted back like he was at a fucking pantomime. Mathers was the ultimate showman, I’d give him that, but every showman had their swan song. This was going to be his.

“Calm the fuck down,” Tyler shouted over at Colton. “Anyone would think you wanted the fucker to win.”

“I like the theatrics,” Colton replied as he hung over the ledge and joined in the chanting.

“You’ll like the fucking payday more when he hits the floor after a knock-out from Hazel,” I snapped back, shutting them both up.

The two fighters circled each other, and after some gnarly stand-off and a few heated glares, the ref started the fight. It was no surprise to see Mathers outperform Hazel in every way in the ring. His punches were harder and more accurate. His foot work was flawless. The way he ducked and danced around the floor, making Hazel work for every damn hit, was an art-form in itself. He owned the fight, and if I had a heart, I’d feel bad about what we’d orchestrated here tonight, but I didn’t. I couldn’t give a flying fuck about his career.

The tension in the air was so highly charged it could’ve roused the dead from their graves. It made me stand tall and proud, listening to the crowds chanting his name, beyond confident that their boy Mathers had this in the bag, but I knew better.

Then suddenly, there was a shift in the air as Mathers dropped his arms by his sides and stared over to where the rest of his crew stood, and I felt my body stiffen in anticipation. This was it, the moment it all changed. Hazel swung his fist forward and smacked Mathers once, twice, and then boom, Mathers hit the ground and the whole hall erupted with deafening jeers of anger and hatred at what they were witnessing.

“He did it,” Will said breathlessly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “He really fucking did it.”

“Too right he did. He knew we had his mate Knowles by the balls, and he’s too thick to come up with a plan of his own,” I spat back, because in all honesty, in case it wasn’t crystal clear, I bloody hated Mathers. The guy thought he was all that. I’d happily go toe-to-toe with him myself. In fact, standing here, I wasn’t entirely sure why I never had done before. I guessed the fragile peace we’d kept between Sandland and Brinton Manor had been reason enough to stay away. But not anymore.

Colton had his hands over his mouth, gasping and laughing like a buffoon as he watched the pantomime he’d loved at the start turn into a Shakespearean tragedy. Tyler and Will were glancing from each other to the crowds below, and I half expected them to start high-fiving each other. But Devon and I remained stoic, unreadable. We were in a room filled with Mathers’ supporters, and as much as we wanted to shit all over his defeat, we weren’t stupid.

“Time to call in all bets, lads,” I said, pushing myself away from the railing and turning to make my way down the metal staircase that was packed tight with pissed off punters, ready to go nuclear over the money they’d lost on their bets tonight.

Me?

I was fucking ecstatic.

“They’re carrying him out. Should we go and see Archer about our winnings?” Tyler asked as he took the steps behind me and peered over the head of the revellers to watch what was happening in the ring. That English football theme Mathers had cultivated was taking on a more eighties-hooligan feel to it now, with the thugs spitting venom from their red, angry faces.

“Archer can wait,” I told them. “I wanna wrap up the whole Knowles bullshit. He might be a cowardly fucker, but the kid came through for us tonight. As much as I hate his crew, I’m gonna pretend to be human for a change. Show him he’s off the hook.” I saw their eyes go wide as I said that. Sarcasm obviously wasn’t my strong point.

“Human? Are you kidding?” Colton just stared at me with his mouth open, catching flies.

“Of course I fucking am.” I frowned and narrowed my eyes at them. “Let’s go and watch their misery, twist the knife even more. Fuck being human. Compassion is highly overrated.”

Colton laughed and nodded in agreement. Devon huffed his approval. And the other two? Their minds had already shifted to what was happening next and what it meant for us all.

The soldiers were on the up.

Nothing could stop us now.

We nudged our way through the surging crowds that were trying to storm the ring in protest and headed towards the back area where the other Sandland lads had scuttled off to hide. They really were like rats from a sinking ship.

Once we reached the corridor, we spotted Emily Winters storming out of a door, gripping her mobile phone and looking like she was about to throw up. Emily was Ryan Hardy’s girlfriend, and where Ryan–the first golden boy of Sandland–was, we knew we’d find Mathers and Knowles.

We reached the door, and I felt a wave of serenity flow through me. A feeling that always came over me prior to a showdown. My body was fortifying its armour, ready to do battle, and my brain was flipping that switch. I was locked and loaded. A human missile launcher, primed and ready to attack. I flung the door open hard and smiled when it smacked against the plaster of the wall. I liked making an entrance, and judging from the startled looks on all their faces, I’d done just that.

We didn’t wait for them to speak, just strode right on in, letting them know we weren’t here to give Mathers our condolences. We meant business.

Considering Mathers had just been stretchered out of the ring, he looked pretty unaffected, cocky even, and although he was the star of the show, his changing room was a complete and utter shithole. It was more like a store cupboard with plastic chairs and a few bottles of water scattered on the dirty concrete floor. Cigarette smoke hung thick in the air, and I guessed he’d probably needed the nicotine to calm his frayed nerves after what’d happened to him. I kept my stare solely on Mathers, grinning at him and hoping he knew the hand I’d played in his sad little demise. If not, I was going to enjoy letting him in on that secret. When he launched himself out of the cheap plastic chair he was slumped in and flew towards me, I knew the cat was out of the bag. He knew what I’d done, so I’d have to get my kicks elsewhere.

“You’re a fucking dead man,” he snarled, pointing at me as his boys, Zak Atwood and Ryan Hardy, held him back.

I wish they hadn’t. I would’ve liked to feel Mathers’ fists on me. The adrenaline from that alone would’ve spurred me on. I’d have probably laughed at him too. Crazy motherfucker was the perfect match for me.

I kept my demonic stare on Mathers as I spoke. “We knew you’d come through for us.” And then I slowly turned to face Finn Knowles, who stood to the side, quivering and looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

We hadn’t collected our winnings from Archer yet, but that didn’t matter. I wanted them to know that their loss was our gain tonight, and I took a stack of cash out of my pocket to wave it at them. The way their faces paled was fucking priceless, it gave me goosebumps, and I wished I could bottle the feeling of superiority that I experienced in that moment. We were unbeatable. “Your little stunt earned us a fuck load of money tonight,” I added, as smugly as I could. “Thanks for that.”

I noticed the tick in Brandon’s neck as he tried to calm the inner beast that was begging to break free and rip us all apart.

“It wasn’t a fucking stunt,” he barked, like he had any authority in here. “You’ve been blackmailing him.” He gestured over to where Finn stood like a lost kid in a shopping mall and then swung his filthy gaze back to me. “And tonight, I put a stop to it. Do you hear me? This ends now.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the fake balls of steel he had on him. Here was a guy who’d just thrown a fight, damn well thrown his livelihood away too, and he thought he was in a position to make threats? To tell us what was going to happen? He didn’t have a clue what he was dealing with. His naivety was so comical that I threw my head back and let it all out. I laughed so loudly it was catching, and my four soldiers howled along with me as the rest of the room stood staring at us like we were the fucking freaks.

“You should’ve made a few bets yourself. The odds on Hazel winning were ridiculous.” I smirked and looked over to where Ryan Hardy stood, grinding his teeth down to his gums.

“Is that what all this is about? Money?” Hardy spoke like he couldn’t quite believe that men like us would be interested in something so basic. He needed to fucking wake up and smell the coffee. The whole bloody world revolved around money. Wasn’t that what we all wanted on this god forsaken planet? Wasn’t that what gave you the ultimate power? Without it, people like us were nothing. Nobodies.

I glared at Mathers, starting to lose my patience with this shitty showdown. They thought they were so much better than us.

“Isn’t everything about money?” I said, stating the bloody obvious. “Don’t pretend you’re better than us. You get blood on your hands and get paid for it. The only difference is, we’re smarter. We don’t get our heads kicked in for a payday.” He knew I was right. Our way was the smarter way, the better way. They could take a leaf out of our book, if they had the balls to.

“No,” Mathers sneered. “You just do the kicking, you fucking psycho freak.” Mathers was losing it, and the fact he’d taken to weak shit like name-calling proved it.

He launched himself forward again, trying to force his way past his dumbass friends to get to me. I laughed back at him. He probably thought a face-off like this would rile me up, but he’d be wrong, I wanted more. I wanted him so fired up, raging like a goddamn bull, that all the world couldn’t hold him back, and then maybe, just maybe, I’d get what I wanted, a fair crack at taking him on in the way I’d always wanted to. I was hungrier for it than he would ever be, and what made me shiver with pride was knowing we were getting to him. I was calm, my head was clear. He was snorting and jumping around like an idiot. He was the only freak in here.

I stood tall, feeling superior to all of these fuckers as I stated, “I think you’ll find we kept our end of the bargain. We are men of our word, after all.” I made sure Mathers knew that the statement I’d just made was partly for his benefit, that we did have some honour, despite what he liked to think. Then slowly, for dramatic effect, I turned to face Finn Knowles and gave him a pointed, evil stare to let him know he was in on that statement too. He’d played our game of consequences, and now that he’d succeeded, the game was over. “Check your phone. I think you’ll like what you find on there,” I informed Knowles with pride. “We might be sadistic fuckers, but we step up when we’re needed.” That was what it meant to be a soldier of Brinton Manor. You step up and stand up. I swung my gaze back to Mathers, who was frothing at the mouth, and I smirked as I added, “Unlike some.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” the rabid boxer spat out with as much venom as a new born viper. He needed reminding that he was playing in the big leagues now. “Your word doesn’t mean shit…”

Mathers started to spout more bullshit, but I just grinned at his ridiculous effort to look tough, and blanked him out. His fake display of power obviously went some way to help repair his ego that’d taken a battering out in the ring tonight, judging by the way he puffed his chest out and flexed his muscles. But when it came to strength, my brain outsmarted his every damn time.

“I did what you couldn’t,” I stated, growing tired of this back and forth. “I cleaned up your mess.”

I knew it’d piss Mathers off even more, knowing that his best mate had had a problem and we sorted it out. We used our game of consequences to rid Finn of his sadistic uncle that’d plagued his life, but we’d got plenty out of it in return. An eye for an eye and all that. The truth hurts, and it was clear that it was stinging these motherfuckers like a bitch, because Knowles actually left his safe little corner and scuttled across the room to join his brothers standing in front of us. Seeing him raise his chin up with such defiance made something inside me snap, and I went over to stand right up in his face, ready to remind him who he really was. A coward and a puppet. A fucking good one at that.

“You think you’re a big man now you’ve got these three next to you?” I narrowed my eyes at him, willing him to stand up to me. Grow a pair of balls and take us on.

“I’m not scared of you.” He spoke the words, but his eyes didn’t agree with what he was saying. He looked like he was about to shit his pants, and me being me, I couldn’t help but tip him over the edge. I pressed my face further into his and I tilted my head like I was contemplating what fucked up way I was going to kill him, grinning from ear to ear to give that extra dose of psycho magic.

“Like I said before,” I hissed. “You should be scared of me. In fact, you should be thanking me. After what your Uncle Fuckface spilled to us about you when we gutted him like a fish, you should thank your lucky stars we took care of him. Filth like him doesn’t belong in Brinton.” And we’d done our job. Now it was payday and payback. Plus, seeing the Renaissance men of Sandland die a death was the ultimate reward for all the years they’d shat on our town.

Ryan screwed his face up as he spat out, “But filth like you do?” I turned to glare at him. He needed to check himself. We might be motherfuckers, but we were motherfuckers with a code. We never hurt women or children. Not like the sewer rats we put down on a daily basis.

“We look after our own,” Colton spoke up for all of us and put himself directly in front of Ryan, ready to get in the first hit. “You should take notes. You might learn something.”

“We don’t need to learn shit from you,” Ryan spat back, looking Colton up and down like he was shit from the bottom of his overpriced trainers.

I’d have enough.

I was seconds away from either starting a fucking riot or opening the damn door and letting the angry punters outside do the job for me. These men were in no position to lord anything over us. They weren’t even our equals. Far from it.

“Just shut the fuck up and let us finish this,” I snarled over at Ryan. The demons were coming out to play, and I needed to reel them in for just a moment longer. So, I took a deep breath to calm myself down and let the voices in my head go from a rabid screech to a dull whisper. Then, once the control was back in place, I smiled with my eyes wide and a demonic, psychotic grin that I really didn’t need to make any effort with, it had always come naturally, especially in situations like this. I looked deep into Knowles’s eyes, feeding off his fear, and then I told him, “It’s over.”

His shoulders sank as if the weight of the world had been lifted from them and a silent but low breath left his body. A sign of pure relief on his part.

A better man would’ve left it at that. Given him the freedom he craved and walked away. But I wasn’t a good man.

“Just so you know,” I added, twisting that metaphorical knife one last time. “He was dead before we’d even sent you your first task to complete.”

I couldn’t help myself. I fed off his pain, knowing he’d played our games and lived with the threats from us when he didn’t need to. A sick fucking joke, but one that made me laugh. I loved it, the stab of that imaginary knife. An almighty twist for our pleasure.

“You fucking bastards.” Brandon tried once again to barrel into us, but his boys held him back, trying to calm the beast of Brandon.

“Yeah, Mathers. Pipe down. We did the job you couldn’t. Get over it. It’s done,” Colton said, smiling and folding his arms to show he wasn’t scared of Mathers or anyone else in here. He didn’t need to stand to attention, ready for an attack, and the way he stood calmly, rocking back on his heels showed it.

I sighed. This party had been fun, but I was ready for it to be over. I’d had enough, and I wanted to head home on the off chance that my demons would allow me at least a couple of hours of sleep before they recommenced the war in my brain.

“Enjoy watching the video, Knowles. Colton gets a little carried away at the end, but I think that added to the overall effect. Who’d have thought a neck would spurt so much blood? I thought the films were exaggerating. Poetic justice for a man who brought so much pain to your life. Now you get to relive his agony over and over again.” I was giving Mathers a run for his money in the dramatic, show-stopping, crowd-pleasing speeches tonight, and it made me smile.

But we were done here.

Time to move on.

These lads had served their purpose, and now we had bigger and better things to focus our attention on, like setting the wheels in motion to secure the building I’d chosen to open our first club.

“I think you’ve outstayed your welcome,” Hardy had the balls to announce, trying to get the last word in. I didn’t like that, so I folded my arms too and stood my ground.

Petty?

Maybe.

But I wasn’t going to do anything they told me to do. I’d leave when I was good and ready and not before.

I heard the crack of the door behind us as it burst open, smacking into the plaster and damaging the wall in the exact same place that we’d damaged it earlier. Expecting the Sandland boys to have called in back-up, I braced myself, ready for an onslaught. What I wasn’t prepared for was Ryan’s missus, Emily, and some other girl to come bounding into the room like they were the cavalry. I gave an evil smirk as I glared over at Emily, raking my eyes up and down her body to piss Ryan off. She didn’t care though, she barely noticed me and barked something about Mathers needing to call his woman, something to do with pains and labour. To be honest, I’d switched off. This meeting was grating on me, and I wanted to leave, but not before taking a parting shot that’d seer its mark onto all of them.

Brandon Mathers growled something about needing to leave and then darted across the room, only backing up for a second to tell us, “This ain’t over. I’m fucking coming for you.” And then he was gone, and all eyes were on me as I drew mine up and down Emily Winter’s tight little body.

Ryan went all caveman and pulled her closer to him, and I laughed. If I wanted to take his woman, I could. If I wanted anything, I’d get it. His show of dominance was pathetic. He had about as much power as a wet firework. Full of promise and anticipation and then nothing but disappointment when you tried to light the fuse. That was the problem with these so-called Renaissance men. Their women were their weakness. I filed that one away for the future and then, feeling bored out of my brains, I turned to leave.

And that’s when I caught sight of a flash of red moving out of the corner of my eye.

I turned to where Knowles’s little girlfriend stood, and something twisted in my chest.

That was new.

I didn’t even know I had anything inside the empty cavity that I called a chest most of the time, let alone felt it do something like that.

Who the hell was the girl stood next to Finn Knowles girlfriend, with the long blonde hair and the tight red dress?