The Psycho (The Soldiers of Anarchy 1)

Chapter Six

Adam

“Last night was mental.” Colton sat back in one of the gamer’s chairs in our living area as he kept his focus solely on the T.V. playing against Will on the X-Box, but his comment was directed at me as I strolled through the door to join them all the following morning. “You should’ve stayed and joined in, Ad. You never know, the dark room might be your thing after all.”

They’d all used the dark room, but I never had. I got my kicks elsewhere, usually from a certain blonde who liked to tease me at every opportunity. Tease me and drive me crazy.

“I think I’ll leave that pleasure to you… for now.” I smirked, because never say never, right?

Will chuckled to himself and Colton gave his own sneer as he blew up some shit on the game he was playing and then told Will to suck a dick. Tyler was sat in the corner, tapping away on his phone, and Devon came in carrying Tyson’s bowl, with Tyson padding along not far behind him.

“Might wanna check out the soldiers email account,” Tyler suddenly announced, frowning down at his phone. “Seems we have a new target.”

“Good.” I smiled back, feeling that surge of adrenaline at the thought of taking on a new ‘client.’ “It’s been quiet since Harvey. I hope it’s a juicy one. We could do with some fresh meat. Keep us focused and on our toes.”

Colton huffed, like he didn’t like my insinuation that some of us were getting too comfortable, and dare I say it, lazy. But the truth was, since opening the club, the soldier work had started to dry up. I didn’t like it. That was the job I loved the most and I needed those hits to remind me that I was still alive. That I had a fucking purpose.

“Let’s hope it is a good one. Maybe Father Johnson has been caught doing something he shouldn’t have, and we can kill two birds with one stone,” Devon said, and he meant it.

Father Johnson was the main guy behind all the petitions and other crap being thrown our way about our use of the Asylum Chapel. We’d deal with him eventually, but for now, we were leaving that bombshell to tick away in the background. We had enough rooms to keep our punters happy. But when we wanted to use the chapel, we would, and the bloody church diocese could do one. We bowed down to nobody.

“No such luck,” Tyler responded, shooting Devon’s dreams down, or rather, putting them on ice for the time being. “But I think we’re gonna enjoy this one.”

I sat myself down on one of the empty sofa chairs and pulled my phone out of the front pocket of my jeans. I tapped the screen and pulled up the email account we’d opened especially for jobs like this. Most people in Brinton knew, if they needed help from the soldiers of anarchy, they could hit us up on there and we would get shit done.

The email had been sent from a guy called Michael Felton, and when I read through the message he’d sent, it became pretty clear that he was a father, just not the kind that Devon was hoping for.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Message: We need your help.

I’ve never written to you before, and if I’m being totally honest with myself, I still don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, but my family can’t go on like this, and as a husband and father, I need to do something to stop it.

Three years ago, my fourteen-year-old daughter was raped on her way home from school. It hurts me to type out that sentence, but you need to know exactly what you’re dealing with. The individual who committed the act was found, arrested, and put away, but it wasn’t for long enough. Life wouldn’t be enough for that disgusting piece of shit. He destroyed my daughter’s life. She can’t go out on her own, still has flashbacks and nightmares. She struggles to form any kind of relationships, and this affects us all.

We lost our baby that afternoon. He took everything from us, and when he went down, we thought that would help. That my little girl could take the time to heal, get counselling, and find some peace after living through such a harrowing ordeal. I can’t even bear to imagine it.

But no.

He still taunted us from inside prison. He managed to get hold of a mobile phone and sent us sick text messages telling us what he was going to do once he got out. When we blocked his number, or changed ours, he still found us. There were emails too. We told the police, but they did nothing. It would go quiet for a week or two, but then it’d start back up again. He ruined my daughter’s life, but he couldn’t let go. He wanted to destroy us all.

So, you can imagine how we all felt when we found out that he’s being released soon. My whole family is petrified. My daughter has gone back in her healing and it’s like she’s reliving the trauma all over again. I want to walk up to that prison myself and put a bullet in his head, but I have two other daughters and a wife to think about. Plus, I’m not getting any younger. A friend told me that this was something you could help me with, no questions asked.

I’m willing to pay whatever it takes to have this individual taken off the streets of Brinton and sent to the hell that he deserves. All I ask is that it is done as swiftly as possible, that he doesn’t get the chance to come anywhere near my family, especially my daughter. And that I get proof that he’s gone.

I’ve used an alias for this email, and I will delete all responses from yourself. If you need any further information from me, please let me know. I can have the money transferred within a day to confirm the contract, and I will pay in advance, and in full.

The man you are being asked to target is Karl Cheslin, and his release date is 17th March from HMP Belbroughton.

Regards,

Michael.

This was the perfect hit. Just what we were programmed to do. A dirty rapist who targeted underage girls and then thought he had the fucking right to taunt her from prison. Make her feel like her nightmare would never end. I couldn’t fucking wait to get him to our warehouse and show him how we took care of the streets of Brinton, and what we did to men like him.

“Message him back,” I told Tyler, pocketing my phone and putting my hand out for Tyson to come over. “Tell him we’ll do it. Usual terms.”

“Do you want me to do any digging into the case?” Tyler asked, already busy tapping away on his screen.

“He’s a piece of shit, that much we already know,” I replied. “But yeah, dig up whatever you can on his background, family, anything that could help us.” I was already envisioning all the ways I was going to enjoy torturing this sick fuck. I’d lost count of the ways I’d found to kill a man, but there were always new ways, and I’d enjoy testing them out on him.

“Game on, brothers,” Colton said, whooping at the kill he’d made on his game, but no doubt visualising the kill he’d be making in real life.

“This one needs putting down as soon as possible,” I stated–just to make sure we were all on the same page.

“But we can still play with him when he’s at the warehouse?” Devon asked, hopeful of the opportunity to test out some of his new ideas.

Devon’s favourite part was the torture, and finding unique and creative ways to make them suffer.

“You can play all you want. The longer he suffers, the better.” And I meant it.

We weren’t good men, but we had a code. We stood for what we believed in. If you didn’t stand for something, you’d fall for anything, and we were no fools.

“Let’s enjoy this one,” I added. “He took a girl’s innocence and fucked with her and the family. I think we’ll enjoy fucking him right back. Tyler? See if you can get hold of one of our contacts inside Belbroughton. If we can get hold of his mobile phone number, we can start our game of consequences and fuck him up before he even steps foot out of those gates.”

“Nice one,” Tyler replied. “I’ll get it. By the time we’ve finished with him, he won’t ever want to be released.”

“But he will,” I added. “Because justice needs to be served, and we’re gonna be the ones to do it.”