'Executioner style, and there won't be no trial
Don't you know that you're better off dead?'
*
'And you're absolutely certain you want to do this, Atlas?' Zayn asks from the front seat of the vehicle. This would be the fifth time that question has left his lips, but my answer has remained the same.
It's past 10pm, our car sat under a streetlight on an empty road in West London. The orange hues create shadows on our faces that accentuate just how tired we all are given the events of the last week. On theirs I see the pale and almost bruised looking skin of exhaustion, while my own heavy bags feel fuller under my eyes. It's difficult not to focus in on these details when it's all that can distract us from what we're about to do.
It's quiet, ominously so, no soul in sight. Commuters are safely tucked away in their beds while the residents of the city remain in their properties as the darkness settles upon them. Being mid-week, the bars aren't as packed and the streets are slightly sparser, especially in this area. Evenings like this I find peace in the silence of the capital. It's not often I find myself in this side of the city, but the stillness of it is welcoming.
I sigh again, pushing my hair out of my face as I meet Zayn's eyes through the mirror above him. 'Just like ten minutes ago, I'm positive,' I respond. My hands have already started shifting in the bag of weapons on my lap, pulling out those that I feel most comfortable with. 'I'm not going to sit idly by anymore. He wants a war, he's got one.'
In the days since Harry's attack, Zayn, Babz and I had made it clear to each other that we intended to enact our revenge on Hugo and his team. At first, we were unsure how, all three of us charged only by anger that our judgement was blurred by it. Granted, what we're about to do probably isn't the wisest choice, but when you hurt one of us you hurt all of us. I've come to realise just how strong of a family unit they all are this week.
While Harry rests at home, we decided to take it upon ourselves to send a message to those that sought to wound him. Violence isn't something I've ever felt drawn to; just a month ago I would have thrown a fit at the idea of inflicting it. However, it seems like the only rational thing in my mind to do after witnessing the pain I saw Harry's body go through, and the fear that erupted within me because of it. No longer will I rely on others to do these tasks. I intend to immerse myself in this world as deep as I can from now on.
I've been tending to him throughout the week, rushing home as soon as I can after work. Harry made sure someone was there to pick me up so Hugo didn't send someone after me in his absence, which has allowed the three of us the time to plan our next move. Harry doesn't know, of course, he'd try to stop it immediately if he did. He'll find out once it's done. It's the only way.
What we're about to do shouldn't be dangerous for us. The woman we seek out will be on her own, that's for certain. George had also helped us on the side lines by tracking her schedule and hacking into the CCTV footage of the building we now wait outside. Once we enter, all cameras will be turned off and the footage will be replaced by a continuous sequence of the empty hallway from earlier today. A simple thing, George has informed me. He even tried to teach me how to do it yesterday. Part of me liked the notion that I could one day do something like that. He's a clever guy, perhaps too clever for his own good, but that's not going to stop him. Louis has been kept in the dark about it, though. All of us agreed that he'd probably tell Harry if he knew; he's too level-headed to keep this a secret.
I know Harry will berate us once he's made aware of what we intend to do tonight, but in truth I don't care. I know his words will have little effect on me because my mind has been made up. I intend to try and protect him as fervently as he does me. If I've learnt anything over these days, it's how strongly I feel about him, and how I can no longer ignore it.
Harry has infected all corners of my mind and the disease has spread to my entire being. He dictates everything I do, without even needing to open his mouth. Seeing his weak figure after he was stabbed ignited something in me that I had previously remained ignorant to. The conversation that followed when we were alone has only consolidated it. I'm not a fool; I know what's happening between us, even if neither one wants to admit it. This isn't something either of us planned, yet we've stumbled into it and I'm afraid there's no way out. This isn't a reversible feeling. The attachment I have to him is permanent, I believe. Even if we fall out of each other's lives, I suspect that feeling will always remain, whatever it is.
I care about Harry Styles more than I care about myself, and that's what scares me most.
So, it was settled: Saturday evening, instead of staying at the warehouse like we told him, the three of us made our way to a small private clinic in Richmond-upon-Thames. It's an affluent area, the clinic probably only accessible to the wealthiest in society, but that's how corrupt the private healthcare system is. I understand the appeal of it as a career, knowing the salary is much higher for private doctors than those that work for Public Health England, but the insurers in charge deserve to rot in hell for how they exploit lifesaving treatments. If anything, being here only ignites the fire within me more.
We've been sat in the car for around five minutes now, just scoping the area and making sure no one else goes in or out of the building. George informed us that most days she stays late; apparently her marriage is on the rocks after it came out that her husband was sleeping with another man, so she prefers being here than with him. Poor Emma. Through his research we found out just about everything there is to know. Where she was born, where she grew up, the schools she went to, even her childhood pets. No stone was left unturned.
She'll wish she chose to stay home instead once she sees us.
Usually, I'd go for a gun in this situation. It's the weapon I've become most used to, my skills remarkably improved over the months. However, there is some divine justice about going in there with some knives. I still tuck one of the firearms into the waistband of my jeans, but the three knives are pushed neatly into my boot. Zayn grabs a mallet from the bag, while Babz picks up another gun.
We sit in silence for a few minutes as we check our weapons and make sure we're all prepared for what we're about to do. Zayn tried to talk me out of this at first, but after I fired a round of bullets into the stone next to his foot this evening at the warehouse before we left, he got the message loud and clear.
Babz was cautious, too, but she warmed up to my involvement faster than her boyfriend. If anything, she's been encouraging me. The whole car ride, whenever Zayn questioned my mindset, she rebutted him with lectures about how I'm able to make my own decisions, how I can't remain sheltered from this world anymore. She told me it was a good thing that I'd finally embraced it. I believed her, to a certain extent.
'You ready?' Babz asks, giving Zayn's hand a quick squeeze. He turns to me one last time, awaiting my confirmation. Once I nod, the three of us finally make our way out of the vehicle and towards the location.
Only a few lights in the building are turned on, specifically the hallway and front desk, but the rest of the interior is pitch black. Just as we expected. I can only hear the sounds of our shoes scuffing along the concrete can as we walk closer. A streetlight near the front door flickers on and off, a slight buzzing sounding once we stand in front of it. It's show time.
We already know the door is locked. Babz pulls a hair clip from behind her ear and immediately gets to work, the click of the lock echoing in under a minute. There's a look of pride on her face that is matched by Zayn when she faces us again. My hand reaches out and quietly pulls the door open, the three of us cautiously stepping in so not to make a sound just yet.
I scan my eyes around the room, picking up on the various leaflets and informative posters littered around. Some about smoking, others about cancer. A select few focus entirely on childbirth. It's an odd mix to have in the same vicinity, but whatever works for them, I suppose. As I trail around the room, a particular image catches my eye. Zayn notices my body shift as I walk closer and pick it up to get a closer look.
'George said Hugo donated a large sum to the clinic a few years back, helps at fundraisers with big clients,' he whispers close to my ear.
The image shows him and Santine with another man, probably the head of the surgery. At some point, everyone seems to have sold their soul to the devil. Every day I discover another that has fallen under his influence and waivered their freedom for his protection. If only they realised Hugo is the one they need protecting from. Maybe they do, but they're trapped. I can't imagine anyone willingly staying with a man like that.
My hands fumble with the back of the photo frame, removing the image from it before pushing it into my pocket. 'It'll come in handy later,' I say as the others watch me. Down the hall, I hear some footsteps, but they're muffled through a door. Zayn and Babz give me a quick nod, hiding in the shadows and round some corners. I take a step towards the desk and, finally, my hand comes down on the bell that rests atop of it.
A door down the end of the hall opens after some time, but only a few footsteps follow. I hit the bell a couple more times, waiting for her approach, but she never appears.
'We're closed, you know!' she yells out. I'm aware, I want to tell her, but this is where the fun begins. Instead of responding, I once again push the bell, hearing a small snicker come from one of the dark corners. Probably Babz.
Eventually, she starts moving down the hall. I turn my back to the desk, facing the entrance of the building. She'll be caught by surprise this way. I'm probably the last person she expected to step foot in here. Outside, I spot a fox sniffing it's way around the rubbish bags on the pavement. A fitting sight given what we're about to do. The fox has always been said to symbolise cunning minds and quick thinking. It's like it knew to be here. I smile at the thought, hearing as she finally stands behind me.
She sighs loudly, clearing her throat. 'Did you not hear me? I said we're closed,' she states.
Slowly, I turn around with a coy grin on my lips. As her eyes meet mine, her face falls into shock, immediately recognising me. 'Emma, is it?' I ask with my hands behind my back.
At first, she remains frozen to her spot, but once her brain has established what's happening her feet back up slightly, creating more space between us. She stops herself, though, choosing not to run. 'You're stupid coming here by yourself,' she taunts, a manic look in her eyes. How mistaken she is. I watch as she reaches into the back of her trousers, hands fiddling with something. I don't even need to ask to find out what it is.
Babz rushes out of the corner she hid in and quickly grabs Emma's arm, giving her wrist a squeeze so the gun falls to the floor with a crash. 'Oh, babe, she's not alone,' Babz mumbles close to her ear, twisting her arm slightly until she groans in pain. 'She brought friends, arguably not as nice as her either.'
'You think I'm scared of you? Should have seen Harry's face when I twisted that knife into him.' She can't say much more, my hand coming out and slapping her across the cheek. I grab the sides of her face in one hand, squeezing her jaw. Her eyes are wide at the impact.
Zayn appears at my side now, his weapon slung over his shoulder while he strolls closer. 'I'd keep quiet if I were you,' he teases, watching her body flinch at the words. My hand still holds her face, wanting her to keep her eyes trained on mine as I speak to her. This will be fun, I think.
I lean closer to her, our noses almost touching. My gaze wanders to Babz quickly, noticing how much she's already enjoying this. When I stare back at Emma, I finally see the fear I hoped to find tonight. There's something quite exhilarating about it that I didn't expect. It's powerful, to be honest. And I could get used to it. 'I'll give you five seconds to run.' Her eyebrows knit together in confusion as I let go of her face. Babz's grip loosens on her arms, but she's stays in her spot. 'Run!' I yell.
Instantly, her feet move her towards the corridor she just appeared from. If we're correct, there's only three rooms she can enter, the rest locked by the other employees. She has a choice of both sets of bathrooms and her office. It's obvious which one she'll pick, though. In her office are potential weapons she can use against us, but she's stupid if she thinks she'll get to use them tonight.
Her footsteps echo around the building, followed by Zayn's laugh as he watches her. He drags the mallet along the wall as he walks closer to the hallway with a grin. Babz and I stay behind and watch the spectacle. After a few seconds, I finally begin my journey after her. I catch the balls of her feet as she rushes into her office, the exact location we assumed she'd end up in. The door closes abruptly, her lock clicking in place. Babz already has another hair pin out and ready to pick it.
Within a few moments, the door is opened again, Emma cowering in the corner. In her hand I see a small scalpel, but as I bend down and pull out one of my own knives she drops it. It's a simple design, just a black textured hilt and plain silver blade, but having already nicked my thumb earlier, I know how sharp it is. This weapon can cause intense harm, which is exactly what I'm hoping for.
In truth, I'm not sure how far we'll go tonight. So far, we'd only agreed to send a message and get her to answer some questions. But being in the same vicinity as her has boiled my blood to temperatures never experienced before. I'm not entirely convinced I'll be able to cool it.
As I step further into the room, Babz locks the door behind her. There's no way for her to escape now. Zayn comes close to her side, lifting her off the floor and pushing her shaking body into a chair next to them. It's amusing how scared she already is after the front she put on earlier. I like how much terror I see in her glazed eyes as they dart around the room between the three of us.
'What do you want? I was just doing what Hugo told me to do!' she calls out, arms resting on either side of her as she grips the chair. Her knuckles are already turning white with the force of it.
I walk closer to her and crouch down so we're eye level. In the brown irises I see hesitation, like she's pondering her next move. As if she even has the space to retaliate. My knife drags along her thigh, her body instantly flinching at the contact. I wonder if she enjoyed hurting Harry as much as I am threatening her. It's sick and twisted, but for some reason I understand it.
When you hold this power, it's intoxicating. It latches onto your soul and controls your entire being. When you sleep, it fills your dreams, and as you wake it livens your body. It completely overtakes your senses, any aspect of reality that you hold onto is altered to fit it. Is it something one should aspire to? Probably not. Yet, I haven't fought it.
I smile up at her, resting the knife under her chin. 'I'm sure you were, and we got the message loud and clear, by the way.' Her breathing shallows slightly, eyes focused on the blade I hold to her skin. 'I hope you don't mind us asking you a few questions.'
'I don't have a choice, do I?' she quips back, but by the look on her face it's clear she doesn't hold an ounce of confidence in her words. I simply shake my head in response, standing up straighter and moving to lean against the counter to my right. Zayn remains behind her, and Babz to my left.
The office is spacious, probably made bigger by the white-washed walls. It's bright, enough to induce a headache if you sit in here too long, but the surfaces shine against it. A standard hospital bed is seated on the opposite wall, some grey curtains pulled halfway around it. There are some large windows along the back wall, but they've already been covered by the grey closed blinds. There's not much in here to indicate the type of person she is, other than a few photographs scattered over her desk of family members. George had already sent them to us before this.
Babz walks over to the bed before hopping onto it and placing her gun on her lap. 'So, how many strikes are there?' she begins, picking at her nails as if disinterested.
Emma remains silent, her gaze focused on the floor instead. My foot instinctively comes out and kicks against hers, awaiting a response but I'm not met with one. Another minute goes by and nothing. Eventually, the knife in my hand is brought back to her throat while Zayn pulls her head back by her hair. 'How many strikes?'
I watch as her throat bobs slightly as she swallows deeply, eyes finally meeting mine. 'As many as it takes.'
'Takes to do what?' I continue.
Again, she takes her time to answer, but as the blade is pressed harder into the skin, she finally caves. 'To get what he wants.'
Babz walks closer, clicking the gun safety off before pointing it at Emma's head. Her grip is steady, hand not shaking as mine usually does when I hold a firearm. 'Be specific,' she demands, pressing it to her temple.
Emma's eyes glance up to mine, almost as if she suspects I'll be the one to break this up. Clearly she's not as smart as she thinks she is. I shake my head with a tut, tapping the knife against the reddened skin where the blade was resting. A sigh falls from her lips. 'I don't know. No one does. It's to do with you and Harry,' she announces, pointing her finger towards me. 'But that's all I know.'
It doesn't really lead us anywhere. With every meeting like this we only walk away with more questions than answers. We're no closer to understanding what's happening or how we can stop it. There has to be more to it, but only Hugo seems to know.
Babz drops her gun, resting her arms at her side, but she keeps close. 'Then why did you bother attacking Harry? If Hugo needs something from the both of you then he shouldn't have ordered the stabbing.'
At this, a small smile appears on Emma's lips, recalling a memory. I want to slap it off her face again. 'He wanted to remind you that he's always watching,' she replies. Hugo didn't need to remind us of this; we're perfectly aware. It was obvious the minute he launched on attack on heist day that he was aware of our plans, meaning he knows the end goal. Does he want to intervene or stop us?
'Then why was Joe killed?' I counter, eyes trained on her. I watch as her smile returns, but this time it grows, as if she finds pleasure from this.
Her hands flex on the chair before she speaks again. In her eyes I see contentment, joy. This is funny to her. Despite having two weapons threatening to kill her, she still wants to push her luck. 'Because he was weak.' As the words leave her mouth I instinctively react. The back of my hand meets the skin of her cheek, smacking her across the face with as much force as I can muster. My grip on my knife intensifies, knuckles aching. 'Apparently he cried the whole time,' she continues, accepting the blows I hand her.
A small trickle of blood appears on her cheek, pooling down her face and meeting the corner of her lip. As she smiles, it leaks into her mouth and spreads across her teeth. 'And you figured out too much. Couldn't have him running around and telling you everything. There's no fun in that. So, really, it's all your fault,' she adds, lifting her head as she prepared for another blow. Instead, the knife in my other hand is lifted above my head and swiftly brought down into her leg. The scream that follows pierces through my ears and threatens to shatter my eardrums. It's different to the sounds that left Joe or Harry's mouths when they were injured. There's no despair behind it, no worry. Just frustration.
It doesn't stop her, though. A smile still sits on her lips. 'Hugo was at the funeral, you know. Watched you and your little friends. Said you looked lovely-' She's not able to finish her sentence. Zayn grabs her hand and holds it out on the counter by her wrist before bringing the mallet down onto her fingers.
Her entire arm tenses, arm pulling back to get a look at the damage. It's clear by the tears welling up in her eyes and the blood curdling screams leaving her throat that it's completely fucked. Despite her attempts to move her fingers, there is no sign of life in it. Zayn leans closer to her from behind, breathing lightly over her neck before closing in on her ear. 'Not such a hot shot doctor now, are you?'
I take a few steps back as I adjust to the sound of her pain. Though inflicting it brought me pleasure, hearing it is something I still have to get used to. Those screams will surely haunt my nightmares. They rip through her lungs and tear at her throat as the moisture spills from her eyes and drenches her cheeks. This is a form of torture, but to deny that I considered it before walking into this room would be a lie.
Once I've found my composure, I walk closer to her frail body. It shakes so aggressively, sweat forming along her hairline and dancing in the bright overhanging lights. What a sorry sight. 'You know, I don't believe you when you say that you don't know what Hugo wants from me,' I taunt, dragging the knife along her mangled hand. 'You seem to have a lot to say, I'm curious just how much you can reveal before we deal with you.'
She coughs as she tries to move her fingers again, but even the slightest bend sends her body into shock, jolting in the chair. 'Surely, loverboy should know,' she claims, gently resting her hand down on the surface. The words bewilder me, but I know who she refers to. Harry. 'Has he ever told you about his father?' I freeze at the mention of him.
The last and only time we spoke of Harry's dad was when he told me the abuse he and his family endured as he grew up. A toxic and dangerous environment that no person should ever go through, yet he fell in the misfortune of it. We didn't discuss the whereabouts of his mother and sister since his father's death, but it's clear he still feels he has to protect them, mainly from himself. If only he realised how innocent he was in all of this too.
The only other mention of his father came from Louis when I first met the team. Steven had been a thief too, stealing high profile pieces over the years; some of which the team have uncovered since his death. Anything else is a mystery to me.
Neither one of them have said a word since the outburst, both turning to me in encouragement. 'There can't be much to tell,' I retort, keeping my knife close to her. Only Zayn knows of Harry's past. We are a small circle, entrusted with the trauma of someone we care deeply about. His secret will always stay safe with me; I'll take it to my grave. 'Perhaps you're bluffing.'
At this, a deep laugh erupts from her chest. It's strained, considering the state her body is in. 'Your complacency will make it fun when you're all killed. Hugo will get what he needs one way or another, there will be no use for you after he's done.' Before anyone can reply, a bullet flies through Emma's foot. The sound of it rings in my ears, but after practicing with them for so long it dissipates quickly.
Some blood immediately flows out the wound and begins staining the floor beneath her. As she lifts her foot, it's clear that there's no exit wound. The floor shows no indication and being hit by a bullet, meaning she'll need to get it out as soon as possible unless real damage is done. The more time we spend with her the less likely it seems that she'll make it out of this room, though. She's signed a death warrant.
While I've found myself fearful of the sight of blood in recent weeks, seeing hers' only invigorates me. I feel a burst of energy flood my veins at the sight of the crimson, as if turning on the engine in my mind and starting me up. I stare at it for longer than I should, just enjoying how the light reflects off of it and makes it seem brighter. Even the metallic scent excites me as it invades my nostrils.
Babz steps closer, placing her boot over the injured foot and applying pressure against it. 'Oops, my finger slipped.'
Emma's arm lifts to try and push her away, but Zayn grabs onto her before she can touch Babz. With a twist it's behind her back, her stance completely at the mercy of him.
My feet start leading me closer to the woman, a smile on my lips as I prepare for what I've been planning the minute she opened her mouth. People like Emma deserved punishment. So does Hugo, but there's no easy way to get to him, not yet anyway. My shoes squeak against the liquid under them, but I keep my balance.
I bring the knife between my hands, twirling the tip on the pad of my finger while looking down at her. 'I admire your loyalty to Hugo, I really do.' The sounds of her fight to free herself echo around us, but the grip on her arm remains as strong as ever, tightening at the movement. 'I value loyalty. Above everything else. Once I trust someone I expect them to hold onto it for dear life.'
Her eyes follow me as I bring the blade back to her neck, pressing harder to the skin to draw some blood. She winces at the sensation but doesn't move. 'I care about a lot of people because of this. I care about my family, my friends, I care about Harry. That's what is most damning, I suppose, the way that I care for him. Because when someone hurts the people I hold close to me, I make them pay. So, imagine how I felt when I found him laying in his own blood after you stabbed him?'
The blade drags along her collar bone, leaving a cut to the skin. At this she flinches, trying to shuffle away from us, only to be locked in place. 'I'm usually quite a placid person, but I stand up for what I believe in,' I begin, bringing the blade up to her jaw as I trace the outline of it. 'I believe in justice. I believe in fairness. I believe in revenge.'
I move it back down her neck again, slowly gliding it down to her stomach. The exact spot where Harry was stabbed. My hand comes to her shoulder, holding her in place as my face draws closer to her ear. 'I think Hugo is a coward in all of this. If he's that desperate to find something why doesn't he just ask? Surely it would make everything easier.' She takes a deep breath at my words but never lets her eyes leave mine. They're locked in place, and I will be the last thing she ever sees. 'He knows this. He just enjoys the carnage that ensues when people like you do his dirty work.' Emma's nostrils flare at the insinuation. 'It's a game to him. We're all chess pieces on his board. But I'm done with simply playing by his rules.'
More pressure is applied to her stomach, the knife catching her skin through the fabric of her t-shirt. Hearing her wince only encourages me. 'I've never been a fan of games, but what Hugo doesn't know is how competitive I am.' Zayn shuffles slightly behind her, eyes glancing to Babz behind me with slight confusion. We hadn't planned this, but I think we all knew it would end this way. 'I'm not one to back down from a challenge. I thrive off of it. I've been eagerly anticipating my move.' My smile grows before my final words can leave my worth. Her features are contorted with terror; I'm mad to say I enjoy it.
'It's for these reasons that I've been looking forward to this moment.' I pull my hand back, watching her eyes intently so she understands what I'm about to do. She knows how this will end.
Promptly, the blade is pushed into her stomach, my hand soaking with the claret that immediately exits the wound. A gasp is caught in her throat at the impact, made worse by the twist of my knife. 'That's for Joe,' I state, turning the knife as I push deeper.
My hand comes back, positioning itself at her ribcage. There's no way she can stop this. I've entirely forgotten about the presence of other people in the room. It's as if the lights have dimmed, only a spotlight focused on the two of us at the centre of the stage, the final act approaching. Wasting no time, I push the knife into her side, a shout echoing into my ear. 'That's for Harry.'
Finally, the weapon is brought to her chest, resting over her heart as I stare into her eyes with a smile. 'And this,' I start, plunging the knife into her chest, 'is for me.'
As I twist the blade once more, all life is drained from her face, body becoming limp under my touch. I pull back once I can no longer hear the sounds of her staggered breathing, dropping the knife to the floor as I allow myself to process what I've just done. There's silence in the room as Zayn finally lets her body go.
My feet are sticky on the floor as I move backwards, almost stepping on the knife but stopping myself when I catch the glint of it out the corner of my eye. My gaze lingers over the lifeless soul in front of me, but unlike the other times I've taken someone's life, I'm not met with anxiety. No, this is the opposite. I feel alive. Like I've sucked it out of her and absorbed the energy.
On my body is the blood that poured out of her, warming my skin as the clothes stick to it. Yet, I don't want it gone, not yet anyway. It reminds me of the strength I had in this moment. The power and control I held. I'm not sure I want to forget it.
As I reach into the pocket with the photograph of Hugo, Babz turns to me. 'Jesus Christ, Atlas'. Zayn moves to her side, eyes wide and concern lacing over his face. Their bodies are stiff, unsure on how to approach me. If only they knew how ecstatic I feel right now.
My knees bend slightly so I can sink further to the floor, before my hand reaches out and dips in the claret. I can feel the stares of Babz and Zayn on me, but I don't inform them of my plans. Instead, I trace out some words on the back of the photo until I rest it on her legs.
Stepping back, the others join me and we look upon my work.
Strike One.
------
A/N: Thank you for the wait on this. And thank you for 80k reads. Always blows my mind!
Atlas murderer era commences.