Born to be Bad

PROLOGUE

I stand here alone, tired and bleeding. The street is deserted. It’s too early - people are still in bed, ignoring the alarm clock for just five more blissful minutes. The wind bites at my face as I strain my ears to listen. Cars in the distance, raindrops - everything's calm. That’s all about to change.

The roar of the engine deafens me as the police helicopter swoops and hovers above. Its relentless searchlight scans the terrain below, searching for its prey. I run. My heart beats right out of my chest, my body screams in pain as adrenaline surges through every vein. The smell of sweat clings to my nostrils and the taste of blood lingers on my lips, but I keep running.

The sound of sirens approach - growing closer by the second. Time is running out. My whole body cries out in protest, desperate for a respite but I can't stop, I won't. Blue lights in the distance, I dig deep and take a short cut.

Vaulting fence after fence, sprinting from garden to garden, I am finally face to face with him. Time seems to slow as we stare into each other’s eyes, as we anticipate each other’s moves, circling, daring not to lose eye contact for a second. His face is alive with rage. I feel the blood rush. He pulls a knife. I raise the pistol. He lunges. I pull the trigger. A shot. A single shot. He falls to his knees.

Where is she? I ask.

He laughs and sits blood at me. I haul him up by his lapels.

Where is Louise Tilly?

He spits at me again so I drop him back to the ground, towering over him.

You were supposed to be on our side! he screams through clenched, blood stained teeth.

I lied.

I raise the gun to his head and with cold hands I pull the trigger. I let out the breath I didn’t realise I was holding and step back. The helicopter looms above, police cars screech to a halt and booted footsteps rush towards me. Time's up.

Ma’am?

The sergeant cautiously approaches me, his eyes fixed firmly on the body.

I had no choice. It was him or me.

I walk into the rain, tired and wary, but the sergeant persists.

Detective! Your orders were to observe until ordered otherwise.

This man irritates me but I'm numb. His ranting is distant, white noise.

Sergeant! I snap. I did what I had to under the circumstances! You blew my cover! You weren’t supposed to be there! You are incompetent fools!

He won’t like this ma’am.

Tough. If he wants me, he can get me at home.

With that, I walk away.

Ma’am! The weapon.

He holds out his fat, stubby hand and waits. His other hand is perched on his standard issue nine millimetre. I remember a time when guns weren’t part of the uniform. I place the weapon carefully onto his palm and leave him to clean up the mess.

The drive home is uneventful. Commuter after commuter - they rush about like it is the end of the world. They will never know the truth - the reports will be censored, as usual. I lick my lips and taste blood. He hit me hard. I wipe my mouth. Just another day.

CHAPTER ONE

The Beginning.

TWO YEARS LATER.

On streets up and down the country they're there if you look hard enough - hookers, pimps, addicts - plying their trade unchallenged. Prostitution and drug use decriminalized - it took some of the pressure off the police. Then there are the... lost generations - kids joining gangs, creating havoc. No respect, no regard for anything or anyone. Kids who feel they've been robbed of their future, their dignity, their pride. Then there's the underworld, the top dogs - they're not so easy to identify these days. Cartels of all kinds, traffickers, gun merchants, the cream of the organised crime world. Clever, tenacious and very well connected - some would shock you to your very core. These people have top businessmen and women in their pockets, politicians, police officers even. They can hide in plain sight, they can be unremarkable, clandestine and they're very good at it. To catch them, you have to become them. Live, sleep, operate as they do. One slip up and they’ll know. Game over. I’m not proud of the things I had to do but... if I didn’t then who would.... I know how to get inside, how to play them - or at least I used to. I had to stop. That day I was numb. I was heartless. I pulled the trigger and felt nothing.

On the other side of town, at police headquarters, a Detective Sergeant sits before a Detective Chief Inspector who reads through a classified file from two years ago.

Sir, we need help and we need it yesterday. Tilly is always three steps ahead of us.

Of course she is - we trained her.... The only one who could help left two years ago - Detective Inspector Crimson Alexis Bevin.

Detective Sergeant Warren Riley is young and fresh, keen and ambitious. He joined the force because he wanted to make a difference. He wasn’t prepared for the stark realities of being a police officer in late twenty first century Britain. His eyes are red and sore - he hasn't slept in days.

Detective Chief Inspector Roger Talbot on the other hand, saw the decent into anarchy. He’s learned to be calm. He’s an old hand and remembers the days before his officers had to carry guns. Today though, he is troubled and it shows.

What happened to her? Riley asks.

People died. Her friends, her family.... She just left. Her badge on my desk one day and a note saying she couldn’t do this anymore, too much blood on her hands. She'd had a rough time and that's an understatement.... She was one of the best officers I had under my command, if not the best. Talbot smiles slightly and stares hard at the officer before him, scrutinising every inch, reading him like a book. He can trust the man in front of him. Crimson Bevin joined the force at eighteen years old. She served in Response, Armed Response, CID - a first class officer. It was inevitable that she would be recruited to... Special Operations we called it, officially.

Special Operations? What, something like Special Branch, Anti Terror?

Talbot smiles faintly and nods. I suppose, his smile fades. What I'm about to tell you is sensitive information, classified well beyond your pay grade. I'm trusting you, Detective, because we no longer have a choice. If we do this, there will be no going back - for any of us.

I understand.

Do you, Detective? I warn you, this isn't going to be easy to swallow.

Whatever it is, Sir, I can handle it.

Talbot stares right at him, blank. His blood runs cold as memories flood him.

Six years ago, we created an aggressive, clandestine, deniable unit of undercover police officers.

Riley scoffs, confused. The police have always conducted undercover operations, what makes this unit so different?

They could use aggressive, underhand tactics. They had the authority to use any methods they saw fit to accomplish their objectives. Talbot smiles faintly at the confused officer before him. This country was on the verge of economic collapse. Times were becoming increasingly desperate for most. People were scared. We found ourselves fighting a war and being overrun. We found ourselves arming our officers because the situation on the streets was becoming one of shoot to kill, he pauses again. The officers were trained to think and to act exactly like their targets, to be as ruthless and as brutal as them if the need arose. Their job - infiltrate right to the very top of the chain. Gather intelligence, play the mind games, break their defences. When, if the time's right, eliminate the threat. Yes, the police have and continue to conduct undercover operations but this was different. There were no strict rules, and what rules there were could be... bent.

Realising he's serious, Riley sits forward. You're serious?

Talbot takes a deep breath, taking his time to choose his words carefully. The criminal fraternity that we face today was born out of the problems that were overrunning this country. They took advantage of the tensions and the economic crisis, of people's growing fears in uncertain times. They got inside the system. Corruption, sometimes at the highest levels, spread like wildfire. Tilly was not the first copper to turn. She won’t be the last. So yes, I am serious. Time's were fast changing and we had to do something. We were rapidly losing control; we had to consider options we never had before.

Riley can't believe what he's hearing. To him it sounds like something out of a book or film. Ok, but that's pretty drastic. We're supposed to uphold the law.

And to do that we had to adapt.

Adapting is one thing but what you're saying.... Did things really get that bad?

In the end, yes. It wasn't something we took lightly, Warren, a long chain of events led us to this decision. This was a… preferable alternative to implementing Marshal Law. He readies himself to explain with a long, deep breath. In the early part of the twenty first century, crime was a growing problem – knife crimes, sexual crimes, gang violence all on the increase. The public were never told the true figures; they were always censored by the powers that be.

Censored? This is England not....

Use your head, Detective! Government cuts! Police officers losing their jobs, do you understand what I'm saying? If the public knew the truth, they couldn't justify such deep cuts. There was a deficit, an economic crisis, we had to cut back - not just the police, all the public sector.

Riley sits back. At times, it did feel like whatever the government was saying, on the streets the opposite was happening.

Recessions, banks collapsing, companies going bust. Food banks growing at an alarming rate, the NHS in crisis, high unemployment, people losing their homes. Generations of kids that felt betrayed, that felt they had been robbed of their futures. Anger intensified over immigration, Europe. Hate crime spread like wild fire, gangs waged war and suddenly the streets were no longer safe, peoples own homes were no longer safe. You could feel the tension on the streets, the country was a powder keg. Anger frequently boiled over for the slightest thing, with explosive consequences, and we struggled to keep order. The public’s faith in its protective services disappeared and with police numbers dwindling, the criminal fraternity saw an opportunity and took it. A new breed of organised crime was born. Young, daring, tenacious. They had the talk, the money and the ability to corrupt and recruit disgruntled individuals – some with powerful influence, MP’s, councillors, police officers. People sought shelter with this fraternity, regardless of the price, because it promised them a voice, financial security, a future - the very things people felt they were losing.

Talbot falls silent. Riley just stares at him - he feels he should say something but his mouth is dry.

Anger played a key role in creating this situation. Anger at foreign labour, Europe. Anger at those in power who were seemingly powerless, squandering public funds while the rest starved, lost their homes, their jobs. And anger at a system that was failing the very people it was set up to protect. Put all those factors together.... It put the cartels in the strong position and us in the weak.

So, like with Tilly now, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get anywhere near them.

The pressure on us was unbearably intense; we were rapidly losing control of the situation. We had to be creative. Only the highest ranks knew of the units’ existence. It was never truly acknowledged, still to this day. We chose only the very best - candidates were vetted for months before being accepted. Medical tests, psychological tests, you name it - everything we could think of was done to them.

Riley chuckles. Sounds more like they were applying to join the Special Forces.

Talbot shoots him a disapproving look, to which Riley swallows hard.

Sorry Sir.

The officers were ghosts. To some, they were nothing more than assets, a means to an end. PTSD became commonplace, along with the stigma that goes with it.... Bevin was a powerful voice. Dedicated, brought down a lot of dangerous criminals, her colleagues were always keen to work alongside her. But at the same time they were terrified of her.

Sir?

She was very good at her job; she fooled even me at times. It was a desperate move I admit but the unit did make a difference. Faith in us was restored – at least in some part. It was a war of attrition but things were calming down on the streets. We were restoring order, taking back control. Then Louise Tilly happened.

If your vetting was so stringent, how did you not see that coming?

I don't know. Perhaps we had become arrogant, blinded by victory.

Why did Tilly turn?

Our officers weren't rich, Warren. There were no financial incentives, no pay increases. Power, money, strength - they can be very seductive when you have nothing.

Is this unit still operational?

Ms Tilly was instrumental in bringing that unit down. She was so successful in undoing all of our hard work because we trained her. Tilly and Bevin were the best in the unit. Crimson and her.... Detective Bevin was the only officer who could continue to fool her targets, for a while at least - even Tilly. As I said, she fooled us all at times, it was frightening.

So why did she leave? Riley asks. Why turn her back, if she was that good she could have stopped Tilly?

She tried and she didn't turn her back. You can't just walk in and ask the cartel for a job. You have to be... initiated.

Initiated?

To get inside you have to prove yourself, your loyalty. You have to do terrible things, Warren, whatever they ask of you, without question. And they would torture you, try to break you, convinced that you're a police spy. You couldn't go home for months on end - officers lost family members while they were working but they had to continue, they couldn't grieve. Crimson saw her friends die, sometimes in her arms - all that doesn't just go away. And the training was as difficult as the job itself. We put the candidates through extreme stresses, took them to the brink - we had to see how far they could be pushed before they cracked under the pressure. It changes you, physically, emotionally, psychologically. Even the best snap eventually. He rubs his aching temples as memories continue to flood him. The unit had to go dark in the end. We could no longer hide the identities of our officers.

Will Crimson come back?

That's a good question. Tilly uses her past as an excuse to do the things she does, Crimson... Crimson is running from it. What you see isn't the real her. It's body armour. Underneath she's... she's haunted, ashamed. Terrified.

Of what?

Talbot gives him a strange look, right in his eyes. Herself.

Riley sits back in his seat and runs his hand across his mouth to conceal a sigh.

If what you say is true, Crimson may be our only hope of catching Tilly. We’ve ran out of aces. Where do I find her?

Talbot just stares at the officer before him. It’s a stare Riley can’t translate.

Sir?

"You can’t miss her - she’s the cantankerous brunette with brown eyes. She got a job in a bar in town - still there according to our latest Intel, he sighs, rubbing his forehead. The Burning Barn. She won't come easily though - she walked away for good reasons.... Tell her I sent you and tell her it’s about Tilly."

I work the late shift, the job no one else wants - things tend to get a little out of control in the early hours. Punters come in, usually already well oiled, all kinds of faces, some you'd expect, some you wouldn't. They get up to all kinds of things, legal and not so. I can handle anything they throw at me.

Are you Crimson Bevin?

I eye up the owner of the voice. He’s slim and subtle, handsome enough. His hazel eyes sparkle under the lights.

Who wants to know?

My name is Detective Sergeant Warren Riley.

I laugh. You got a lot of balls coming in here, Detective. Unarmed too. Gutsy.

He shrugs casually.I can hold my own.

Well if I were you, I get the hell out of here. Fast.

I don't scare that easily. I'm going nowhere, Detective.

Detective, that's a first.

I know who you are, Detective Inspector Crimson....

I’m not a detective anymore.

I go to walk away but...

It's about Louise Tilly.

That name makes me stop dead in my tracks. He continues.

Chief Inspector Roger Talbot told me to look you up. He said you know more about her than anyone.

Really? What else did good old Roger Talbot tell you?

He looks deep into my eyes. I stare back, cold. He’s trying to read me but it isn’t going to work. He breaks eye contact, I smirk - he told him nothing.

She was my lover. And then she tried to kill me.

He looks shocked at that, doesn’t know what to say. He chews his jaw before clearing his throat.

Look, Crimson....

Crimson? Who the fuck do you think you are boy?

I'm desperate, I don't have time for pleasantries. You’d be reinstated back into your old rank, same pay grade, working alongside me - I'll even let you call the shots, within reason. We can get her this time, with your help.

He’s got a lot of front, straight to the point, I’ll give him that.

This time? I ask, curious.

She’s been back on UK shores about three months and in that time she's... well she's done a lot of damage.

Yeah, I bet.

The Chief said you could help.

I turn to look this man in the eye. I could but I won't. I'm not interested, do you understand? As far as I’m concerned, Louise Tilly died a long time ago. Along with Detective Crimson Bevin.

Just hear me out....

I said...! I’m not interested. There’s a dangerous tone in my voice and he can hear it. Do you understand?

No, I don't. The Chief told me you were one of the best - the best. I don't understand how you can just turn your back. We can't get anywhere near her but the Chief says you can.

He's got balls, standing up to me. He could make a good officer. I like him.

We're desperate and I don't have time to piss about with fancy dialogue. A lot of good people have died because of her.

You have no idea, Detective.

Then fill me in.

Why should I?

Because.

Because. Is that the best you can do? I laugh.

I don't understand why you've turned your back on your duty.

Duty? You don't know the meaning of the word, Detective. I know your type - young, ambitious, think you know it all. You end up dead mostly, but only after they've had their fun with you. I've seen boys like you - you don't last five minutes with the likes of Tilly and her friends.

I've held my own so far.

So far. Louise Tilly is dead to me, that job is dead to me. And this is the final time I'm going to say it.

You made a difference. You - we - can make a difference again. She controls the biggest cartel, the one pulling everyone else's strings. Bring that bitch down, things will change.

I laugh. You've learned nothing, have you? Two years and you're still in the dark.

Then fill me in.

Tilly's not calling the shots. Someone else is - that's what I found out two years ago. And whoever it is, they're a ghost, powerful, they most likely have contacts at the very highest of levels.

Why do you say that?

They've made themselves a ghost, Detective. They helped Tilly disappear, no trace - do you know how hard that is? Look you seem like a nice guy but you're young, naive. You'll learn - hopefully not the hard way, for your family's sake. Take my advice, go home.

Not an option. He leans towards me, his face close to mine. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in this grotty little bar? You have a duty to finish what you started.

Finish what I.... Let me explain something to you, and I won't sugar coat it like Talbot un-doubly did. Our job was to gather intelligence. But then we had to infiltrate to the top of the chain, and then eliminate them so the rest of the cartel would crumble. Do you understand what I mean when I say eliminate, Detective? They turned us into glorified killers. Killers with a badge. And the top brass didn't care how screwed up their officers had become because of that. We spent so long undercover, living their lies.... Crimson Bevin died alongside her friends. That unit is finished thanks to Tilly. We lost. Do yourself a favour, go home, forget Tilly, forget me.

I'm not leaving here without....

Don't push me. I find it so easy to lose control these days.

My eyes burn into his like red hot pokers.

Look, I don't agree with what the chain of command did. No matter how bad things had gotten, it doesn't justify....

Desperate times equal desperate measures, Detective. You don't have the right to judge when you've never been in that situation. It's not a nice feeling, losing control. Watching your family too terrified to go bed at night, listening to your children crying in fear. We did what we had to to restore order. And it worked, for a time.

He swallows hard. I was going to say - we need your skills, that unit.

That unit is dead.

There's you.

He breaks eye contact with a sigh and rubs his eyes. He's tired, at breaking point perhaps.

You're broken, in pain, suffering from PTSD. We can help you.

What, another mental hospital? I scoff at his shocked expression. I guess Talbot forgot to mention that.

He doesn't know how to answer that, his mouth hangs open. A part of him doesn't believe it. I smile.

Go look at my file, Detective.

It's classified, beyond my pay grade.

Go ask why. I'm done.

He's reluctant to leave. And I admit, a part of me wants to help him.

I'll give you a warning, Detective. Don't get mixed up in that game. Louise is more dangerous than you know. She knows how to get under your skin.

And you know how to get under hers.

My eyes lock onto his but I remain silent - for a moment I think my stare will turn him to stone. He gives up the argument with a tired sigh and makes a swift exit. So, she’s back. I wonder what she’d say to me now. She’d probably shoot me between the eyes this time. Maybe it is time to confront my demons. I know how, know where to find her, because I know how to think like her. I shouldn't go.... But I probably will.

CHAPTER TWO

Confrontation.

Louise Tilly is a character who likes to play with her victims and the police. She likes to play cat and mouse just to torment, to put the fear of god into her competition, everyone, and she's good at it. Wanted for countless crimes including abduction and murder, she has managed to evade police for years and become one of the most predominant figures of the underworld. She has her fingers in many pies. She’ll import and export anything if the price is right. She kills without mercy. Nothing scares her and no one is brave or stupid enough to cross her - not intentionally. She was one of us. We trained, worked together - that’s what makes her so dangerous, why she’s always three steps ahead. She knows how to exploit the smallest of things to her advantage. Just like me.

I drive through an abandoned industrial estate - her old stomping ground. This estate is the last one on my list, one of many she had under her control two years ago. The factories and offices have been left to crumble. After the recession these units were closed, the staff redundant. The area became an abandoned, desolate wasteland - that's why she chose places like this. Quiet, out of the way, forgotten. No one comes to these areas anymore. I turn down a side street and stop the car. I’ll proceed on foot.

It's a ghost town. Nothing but crumbling buildings and the elements. It would be easy to disappear out here, plenty of places to hide. Unlike like the other six estates I've been to today, this one's all quiet. Too quiet. She's here, I can feel it. I've felt eyes on me since I stepped out of the car. I didn't keep my search low key, I made waves. I want to know, I need to know. When you ask uncomfortable questions, word spreads fast, especially when her name is mentioned.

I should turn back. I should go to nearest police station, cooperate with Detective Sergeant Riley. No. I bled for them. They hung me out to dry. This, I do for me.

At the gates of the last building, I stop. With the wind and rain it's hard to make out the footsteps behind but it's not my imagination. I squeeze through the gap in the fence and approach the door. As I step inside, the muzzle of a gun touches my head.

Don’t move. A rough male voice whispers.

I’m looking for Louise Tilly.

We know? Search her, she could be another copper.

His friend runs his hands down my body – a large smirk on his face. I resist the urge to knee him in the groin. There are others, maybe ten, no doubt more.

She’s all clear.

Move. And don't try anything stupid.

Keeping the gun at my chest, he pushes me towards the back of the warehouse. Opening a door, he pushes me down the steps into a dark, damp basement corridor. At the very end, he pushes me into a room. I shield my eyes as the bright light hits me.

This is the one who's been asking questions around the estates.

Really, a soft female voice echoes as she steps into view. Long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, tight combat trousers and a thin leather jacket that reveals every curve of her subtle body - just how I remember her. Well well, Crimson Bevin. Or should I say, Detective Inspector Crimson Bevin. Why am I not surprised?

Long time no see, Louise.

She strolls to me and caresses my face. You here to arrest me? Should I be expecting sirens about now?

I laugh, shaking my head. I’m not a copper anymore - but then I think you know that, don't you? Otherwise I'd lying in a pool of my own blood by now, wouldn't I?

She smirks. What are you doing here, Bevin? Why have you been searching for me?

I heard you were back in town, just thought I’d drop in.

She licks her lips, raising an eyebrow. Really? Feeling nostalgic are we?

You tried to kill me.

You tried to arrest me.

I smile. They know you’re here, somewhere. It’s only a matter of time before they catch up with you. When they do, I'll spit on your grave.

Louise, we can’t trust her. She’s a copper - retired..., the male starts.

She turns and glares at him. I was a copper once, remember. Get back outside before I cut your balls off. She gives him a hard stare - the kind of stare that could kill a man - and turns back to me as he leaves. Is he right? Can I trust you?

I don't know, can you?

Or are you playing your hand like you used to? Are you a distraction, Crimson? Keep me here chatting, suddenly armed police are swarming all over the place. Bullets flying. We both go out in a blaze of glory, just like the good old days.

I shake my head. I'm not a copper anymore. This, this is personal.

Are you still pissed at me? Really?

You tried to kill me!

Oh don't be so dramatic, Crimson.

You almost killed me!

You left me no choice! I asked you to come with me, but no. No their brainwashing worked perfectly on you, didn't it? A blind sheep. I could have given you everything you ever wanted. So what, you want to put a bullet through me? Go on then. I dare you. She moves towards me, offering me a pistol. I look away. No. You couldn't back then, you can't now.

Oh I've thought about it. I've thought long and hard about what I'd like to do to you. You're a septic wound that refuses to heal. But no. I'm better than you, Louise Tilly.

Well that's rich, considering. Or have you forgotten?

I'll never forget the things I've done. Never.

We hold each other's gaze for a moment, staring deep into each other, just like we used to. The tension bubbles on a knife edge. She breaks it. She caresses my cheek and I let her. Her touch is just how I remember - soft, soothing.

So, here we are - you and me, back together after so long.

I'd heard rumours you were back on these shores, I was hoping they were wrong. I had to know. Of course I had to know. She can't help but smile at me, even as I say it. Truth be told I was hoping you'd met a gruesome end in some ditch somewhere.

She laughs, sits on the only item in the room, a desk, and lights up a cigarette. You know me, I'm hard to kill. What about you? What made you - the dedicated police officer - leave the fold?

They did. I walk to the door.

I didn't say you could leave, she calls before I can exit.

I turn to see her holding up a bottle of whisky.

Drink?

I half laugh, shaking my head. You're dead to me.

That's a bit harsh, considering you were about to propose to me. Did you think I didn't know? I found the ring - that night actually. And still you turned your back on me.

What did you expect.

She looks away briefly. One drink, for old times' sake.

I said no.

I insist. You’re not a copper anymore, Crimson. You don't have the moral high ground anymore. Do you really think that you're better than me? Honestly? Why have you really sought me out?

I think for a moment. I'm torn. I should walk out that door and not look back. But the biggest part of me is telling me to stay. We sit and she pours two glasses full of whisky.

So, how did you know I was back?

Rumours.

She smiles. But here? None of my people talked.

This is where all the rats hang out, isn't it?

Rats? I see myself more as a snake.

Yeah. One that likes to strangle their victims while they sleep.

She smiles at that. Well I do like to have my fun. I didn't hear you complain when you..., she looks me up and down and raises an eyebrow, came.

She always did like to dominate. Sex was always... an experience with her. That same sexual tension bubbles between us, just like it used to.

This was your old stomping ground; you didn't give it up easily. I may have cut loose but I've forgotten nothing. I figured that, if you were back....

I'd want to reaffirm my territory? Still as clever as ever. She smiles and looks me up and down, shaking her head. Look at yourself, Crim. Look at what they've done to you. I know you work in that seedy little bar - The Burning Barn.

Why am I not surprised.

I've got eyes and ears everywhere, you know that.

Well... it pays the bills.

Oh please, I could give you a better job.

I catch her gaze. She's not serious. She is.

I don't think so.

She blinks. And why not? You don’t mind serving criminals, fucking them in the back of your car.

That’s different

Is it?

Yeah. I don't crack skulls or knee caps....

That's not what I've heard.

Alright. I don't murder them in their sleep.

She glares at me, raising a finger in warning. I’d be very careful if I were you. That mouth of yours might just get you into trouble.

I chuckle. You couldn’t hurt me back then, what makes you think you could now?

I put a bullet through you didn't I?

Pulling a trigger's easy - the cowards way.

I grew up, Crimson. Got less squeamish in my old age. Now I don’t mind taking a pair of pliers to someone’s fingers, a fork to someone’s eyeballs - I've always wondered what would happen if I did that, always wondered if the eyeball would pop like a balloon. Yeah, I'm not so fussed about pouring oil over someone and striking a match. She pauses to look me up and down. You've been thrown onto the scrap heap, Crim. They've turned their backs on you, thrown you to the wolves....

I chose to walk away.

And what have they done for you since? What have they given you back for all the blood you shed? What have they done to help you dull the pain, the screams, the night terrors? Nothing. I'd never have done that to you.

How could you do it? I need to know why you did it, Louise. Why turn away from everything we had?

I didn't. You did. She pours another drink. I got tired of the things in my head and being ignored. Tired of struggling and for what? I got tired of living a lie, Crimson - their lie.

But us - you and me.

That was the hard part. And it still hurts... very much.

If it hurt that bad, you would have stopped when I asked you to.

And if you loved me you would have come with me. You chose them, over me! I could have killed you, Crimson. But I loved you. A part of me still does.

Love? I scoff. You don't know the meaning of the word, Louise.

Oh I do. You and I - we were good together. I'd never loved anyone like that before, ever. I haven't since, she looks me up and down. Look at yourself. Still pretending you're better. You're not - not really, not deep down in your guts. You're just like me. Because of them.

They’ll catch up with you sooner or later. Someone will come along, as good as we used to be and then... game over.

She laughs. Let them come. When they do, I’ll be waiting..., she pulls out a nine millimetre pistol, a decorative golden snake wrapped around the barrel. She caresses it affectionately. Then I’ll kill them all.

They'll never stop hunting you. What happens when they send the army in with bigger guns than yours?

What makes you so sure that their guns are bigger?

I hold her gaze and her eyes burn into mine. I stand. Maybe it's time I left.

Her hand grips my shoulder and snakes its way down my body. And I'm ashamed to say, her touch still has that power over me. No, stay. She slides her hand down my belt and yanks me towards her.

I..., I break free of her grasp, am not in the mood.

Really? I must be losing it - my touch always used to put you in the mood.

She snakes her hands around my neck and moves them up and down my body. Again, I'm ashamed to admit, my senses are betraying me. I have goose pimples all over my body and I can feel myself falling into her touch - just like in the old days. I let out a soft moan as she nibbles on my ear lobe, as her hand works at my groin. But alas, I pull away.

I have to go.

Why did you really seek me out, Crim? Why make such waves to find me?

I had to know.

They betrayed you, didn't they? Just like they betrayed so many of our friends. How many ended up in mental hospitals again? How many in body bags?

Goodbye, Louise.

You don't have to walk out that door.

I scoff and back away. What, work for you? They betrayed me so I should return the favour. Become the person I'm trying hard to forget? I'm not that disillusioned yet.

You’re a liar, Crimson. You knew all along how to find me; you could have gone to the police.

I sigh and