Bane

November 3, 1963

Dusk settled over Driftwood, California, as the sun descended behind the woodland skyline. Clayton Walker stood on the deck of his home, watching the autumn sunset through scattered clouds.

From inside, he could hear the muffled sound of his wife, Emily, bellowing a long string of obscenities, then a brief silence, followed shortly by another spirited chorus of expletives.

Clayton grimaced and made the sign of the cross. Although alone, he forced the expression of concern from his face. He was a courageous man. He had witnessed many horrors, as well as having visited many on others. By comparison, childbirth was nothing.

It was not so much the actual childbirth that bothered him; it was seeing Emily in pain and suffering. In this aspect of marriage, he failed miserably as a husband - anyone could brand him a coward for it - but as far as weaknesses went, he had only one.

Family.

As the last bit of burnished sun dipped below the horizon, the screaming and profanity stopped, replaced by the not-so-faint sound of an infant's furious cries, as they carried beyond the walls of the rustic manor.

Clayton felt breathless, his heart pulsed rapidly against his chest, a sanguine metronome. Turning away from the darkening sky, he opened the door to the foyer with anticipation and stepped across the threshold.

✟ ☧ ✟

Clayton cut across the entry, into the drawing room on his left, now feeling somewhat unsteady on his legs. His head suddenly dizzy, as the full impact of the day's events hit home. Clayton was surprised to see his hand tremble as he reached out to steady himself, his palm coming to rest against the highly polished Cherrywood paneling.

"Goodman," the doctor's voice boomed from behind, breaking the silence with the antiquated label, and causing Clayton to startle, turning to face him.

"Doctor Bellar."

"Congratulations! You have a healthy baby boy."

"No problems?"

"Ten fingers, ten toes, and he has a powerful set of lungs on him." Doctor Bellar reported, "the only problem that I encountered was the vast, and well let's call it creative, vernacular your wife keeps in her verbal armory."

Clayton pursed his lips to suppress a smile and nodded, "Em... can be a firebrand."

"Considering the circumstances, its not all that unusual", Doctor Bellar stuffed his hands into the pockets of his scrubs and continued, "it's forgivable. Just have Emily make a couple passes around the rosary, while she's recovering over the next few days."

"Two full revolutions...Our Fathers and Hail Marys", Clayton promised, followed immediately by "I would like to see my wife and son now, doctor."

Doctor Bellar paused briefly, "Yes, of course...but before you do, I would like to speak with you for a moment. It won't take long, and I assure you mother and child are doing well.. they're not going anywhere."

Clayton looked puzzled, and slightly annoyed, "Alright, but quickly please."

"I have a request..a favor to ask of you"

"Favors are best asked of the judge, Doctor."

"Yes, Goodman, you are correct. I thought the same, so I sought him out, first. The judge has approved...pending your decision, of course."

"My decision?"

"You are one of the three oldest families in The Order, Clayton. His Honor believes you are in a better position than he, to decide on personnel acquisition."

"Good God, Doctor! My wife just gave birth..I have just become a father..can't this wait?!"

"I wish that it could. I really do," Bellar said, acknowledging the inconvenience, but went on "My brother, Martin, is a coroner for the Los Angeles Police Department. This involves an inquest."

"You want something to go away, right? Well, Doctor, let me remind you that we don't exactly have a lot of favors out in Los Angeles."

Bellar sighed deeply and continued, "It involved my nephew, Simon. It was a tragic accident involving his younger sister."

Clayton felt cold in the pit of his stomach. "What kind of accident, Doctor?"

"The kind of accident you can't undo, Goodman Walker. My brother is a good and decent man, and he is a veritable genius."

"He's a coroner."

"He's the kind of medical examiner that could do well by The Order."

"An inquest doesn't inspire confidence in me that he's the kind of subtle we need." Clayton shook his head and started past the doctor.

Doctor Bellar reached for Clayton who turned and parried his hand. "Unwise."

"My nephew is seven. He didn't mean to do it. Martin did what any dad would do for his son. What you would do in the same position. He was grief stricken and panicked."

"He was sloppy."

"He was too close to handle it correctly. He loves his family. He loves his son."

Clayton frowned, pressing the tips of his fingers together. "If it was an accident, then the truth will out itself. Your nephew will be fine."

Doctor Bellar paused before stating, "...buy my brother will be ruined. If the inquest doesn't work out in Martin's favor..."

"...and it won't."

Doctor Bellar nodded. "It will not. Martin is going to lose everything. His wife and son will lose everything."

"I'll approve it, but, if your brother fails The Order - if Simon turns out to be anything but a negligent, idiot child - I will hold you personally responsible for the failure." Clayton felt bile rising in his throat, the bitter taste on the back of his tongue telling him what he knew in his gut, telling him everything that the doctor was not saying. "I'm going to go and see my newly born son, now."

"Please trust me. I've been loyal to The Order my entire time in service. I've always seen to the survival of your wounded, used my skills for the glory of The Order, and God, for whom we serve."

Clayton stared at the doctor a long time, then swallowed. The burn in his throat lingered, though the bile went away. "Then pray to God you're right. Or else no amount of good you've done will circumvent the extermination of your entire line to the most distant blood relative. Just in case."

Doctor Bellar watched Clayton turn away from him, the expression of disgust still on his face even as he continued out of the drawing room. He heard Clayton's heavy boot falls continue down the hall until they were too far away to hear.

He felt no peace in Martin Bellar's salvation and knew if they could not keep Simon in line, it would end in fire.