Chapter 000:

Anton hated the rain. It streaked down, cleaning the air of dust and grease, leaving thin remains to grow on the bus window. He lazily traced his right hand following one of the streaks, almost trying to reach out and touch the rain that defined his old life.

His right hand only had 4 fingers. At times he felt like he could still feel his missing wedding ring finger. Apparently, he lost it to a dog attack while he was trying to save someone as a child. Perhaps a young boy or girl or someone older, it was all a blur and no longer mattered to him. It didn’t hurt, it just felt numb. His “disfigurement” was about the only distinctive thing about him, at least from Anton’s perspective; Ash blond hair always kept short and swept back, hazel eyes with flecks of green and slightly above average height and build. It had always allowed Anton to go relatively unnoticed.

He sighed. He couldn’t bring himself to have even the slightest interest at this sight of this pollution or even the city itself. Every day and night he saw the same thing for over a decade. Each day adding another layer of grime to the city like nature herself was trying to bury this place in its’ own filth. He wasn’t particularly bitter against the city, it just felt hard to care when it didn’t seem to want to help itself. Today it was raining especially heavily. For some reason, it always seems to rain heaviest whenever something bad happened.

A pointless job handling complaints was the best Anton could hope for considering his past. A downside was the depressingly unimaginative black suit with blue tie he was forced to wear each day, just like the one he was wearing now. His boss, Martha, had been particularly brutal today. She was a short and fat creature that enjoyed inflicting psychological pain on people. He knew that most of the other people were worse workers than himself but that had no influence over Martha. If he was honest with himself, she had once tried to make advances but Anton had blown her off badly. Today’s outburst was for a single spelling mistake, causing her to fly into a rage about how useless he was. Anton finally snapped after months of abuse, nearly hitting her before a tirade of his own, calling her everything he had kept bottled up for months. By the end Martha was in tears, unable to speak. Anton left without saying anything, unsure if he would have a job the next day. At least he would be able to drown his sorrows without interruption.

Home. It never felt the same after the day his parents died. 23 and still living at home. His colleagues would have booed and jeered him if they knew, but moving houses for the sake of it never interested Anton. Perhaps it didn’t help more advanced relationships with the opposite sex. There were more interesting things on his mind, things that he gave up after his parents died. Things he no longer had the time or energy to even contemplate. Despite the emptiness of his home, it did offer him respite from the day.

Anton looked past the greasy rain. The bus had stopped. Traffic. Gang members and prostitutes swaggered to the stopped traffic, hoping to sell their wares. Occasionally he saw someone he recognized. Sometimes he wanted to return to his old lifestyle; the power and control he had command, it excited him. However, the urge to return was crushed by the despair and horror from that day.

A jolt shattered his internal distractions, returning him to the present. It took him a while to remind himself of his surroundings. There were around 20 people on the bus of all ages. A few young couples flirting, some schoolkids busy tapping on their phones, and a few elderly women chatting happily away on the front seats. Anton smiled bitterly at this, knowing that his problems mean nothing to them.

“Are you okay? You look a little-troubled dear.”

Anton turned away from the window and looked to his left. There sat a small elderly woman. Anton had barely noticed her sitting next to him. Despite looking over 80 years old and arthritic she still had a bright smile on her face and a spritely attitude. Her grey hair was still long and pulled back into a ponytail. However, she still wore the customary elderly beige cardigan.

Anton was usually quite jubilant, although today he knew that he was quite a depressing sight.

“I…I’m okay, thanks…?”

“Janet.”

Anton did remember her. She was always on the bus at this time, always wanting to talk to someone. Anton didn’t mind, she was good for a laugh.

“Janet, right. Sorry. Just had a rough day. I think I may have gotten myself fired.”

Anton forced a smile but Janet didn’t seem to like it.

“Well, I don’t think I can help with that, but…”

Janet pulled her bright green handbag off the floor with some effort. Her bones and joints creaked under the effort. Anton helped her with the final hoist, getting a silent “thank you”. Janet reached in, searching for what seemed an age before finally finding it. The bus lurched as it started to move again. Janet let out a little sound before showing what she had brought out.

It was a small bag of candy, Anton had seen these before.

“Ginger candy, I make them myself. Can’t buy them like these!”

Janet reached into the bad, pulling out a small orange cube smothered in sugar crystals. Anton hesitated but decided that it wasn’t some kind of trick. He popped it in his mouth. The sugar rush was an incredible burst. Then the ginger came, he felt his mouth and nose heat up. He breathed out, his mouth and sinuses now clear. Janet smiled at him.

“See? It helps with these situations. Whenever I’m having a spot of bother I just pop one of these in and everything becomes so much simpler.”

Anton wasn’t about to correct her spelling, another bad habit of his which limited his friendship. It did help, he was able to focus a lot better now. At least now he could think with a less clouded mind. He’d go back tomorrow and at least try to talk things out with Martha, at the very least part on decent terms.

“Thank you, Janet. I think it did help.”

“No problem…?”

“Oh, Anton. Anton Thorn”

Janet chuckled.

“That’s a silly name”

Anton sighed.

“Yeah… I always get that.”

“Well, Mr Thorn, I hope that it helps.”

They sat there in silence for several minutes, Janet still smiling inanely.

The bus lurched to a halt again, this bus driver appeared to be a terrible driver. The doors hissed open. Not one left but five people got on. Anton glanced over, a chill running down his spine. He knew those people. Bad people. They wore hoodies and jackets, all with symbols of a white snake on their front and back. Vipers, they liked to be called.

Once the Vipers had been the strongest gang in the city, making millions every day from drugs, extortion and prostitution. In three months they were now a shadow of their former selves, most dead or arrested and the rival gangs moving in. These five appeared to some of the few loyalists left, and they were on the same bus as Anton. They were looking around as they walked in, checking out the faces of every person. Anton saw the Lead Viper turn to the side. He had a square impression on his hip. A pistol. Janet must have seen it too, she brought her bag close and tried to huddle to reduce her size. Anton whispered to her to put the bag beneath. Perhaps the Vipers wouldn’t find it.

The lead Viper walked halfway along the bus, then nodded towards the other members. They turned and pulled out their guns, pointing them at the passengers. Some of the younger girls started to scream, the rest letting out gasps of shock. One of the schoolgirls screamed especially loud and quickly received a whip from a gun to her face. She cried even more, clutching a red imprint on her cheek, though one of her friends covered her mouth to suppress the screams to stop further violence. The Viper closest to the door pointed his gun at the bus driver.

“All right everyone, you know the fucking drill. Everything of value, you give it up right now, unless you want a bullet to the head. Busman! Keep fucking driving until I say otherwise.”

The lead Viper was talking with a stupid accent, something that was expected of low-level grunts of the gangs. Anton was sure they just watched gangster movies for their training, they even held them on their side. There was no control or grace in their actions; their target was swinging wildly from one person to another, trying to keep control of the situation, feet always shuffling. These were amateurs, except for the Lead Viper making the threats. He was still and calm.

Anton saw Janet almost whimpering. He patted her hand, whispering that they would probably leave after getting enough money, hopefully, they were those sort of mobsters. Janet looked a little relieved. He continued to look around, the other passengers were obeying the instructions; phones, wallets, watches and jewellery, all went into a backpack. The lead Viper continued to walk through the bus, gesturing with his gun towards the backpack. Finally, it was Anton’s turn. The Viper looked towards Anton, sight glancing over him. He passed Anton before stopping, his shoes’ thump silencing the bus. Slowly he walked backwards until he was opposite Anton. Anton tried to keep looking forward.

“Well, well. Look who we got here. I’d never thought I see you again. How’s life?”

The lead Viper leaned over and rested his arm on the back of the chair in front. Anton finally looked over to the lead Viper. The Viper smiled. Some of his teeth were missing, the rest green and rotting. His breath felt rotten and sickly sweet at the same time. He obviously hadn’t shaved in weeks and hadn’t bothered to comb or cut his hair. The rest of his face had sores and deep scratches, signs of drug abuse. Anton didn’t recognize him.

“Do I know you?”

The lead Viper twitched slightly.

“No, I guess you wouldn’t. It’s been what, almost a year now. Name’s Jacobs. Do you remember now?!”

Jacobs, as he called himself, reached passed Janet, trying to get Anton to his feet. The bus lurched again. Anton could see that they were now coming to a hill. Jacobs grabbed Janet, pushing and throwing her into a seat behind him with no care for her age. She landed on the seat with a slight “ow”, though Jacobs paid no mind. Her eyes appeared more concerned with Anton’s safety and so did most of the other passengers.

“No.”

The calmness and matter-of-fact tone nearly pushed Jacobs over the edge. He raised his gun at Anton, shaking under his anger.

“After everything you did to us you piece of shit, everything…You fucking destroyed us! Look at us, having to rob some poor ass fucking bus for scraps. All because of you.”

Jacobs’s eyes were filling with anger. Anton knew that this might be it, although it may be approaching there wasn’t any feeling of dread or despair like before.

Odd that I think that it doesn’t matter what happens.

At the moment he didn’t have much to live for. His uncaring attitude angered Jacobs even more.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Jacobs and Anton looked towards the front. The Viper pointing the gun at the bus driver was panicking.

“Hey, stop it. Stop it!”

He yelled again and again. The bus driver was holding his chest, hands not on the wheel.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

How stupid are these people? The man’s having a fucking heart attack ‘cause you keep waving that gun in his face and he thinks that I’m about to get killed by your buddy Jacobs.

Anton didn’t say anything, keeping his thoughts to himself.

The bus starting to swerve wildly as they went over the top of the hill. Jacobs was having a hard time keep the gun trained on Anton and keeping everything under control. The bus continued to speed up, crashing into parked vehicles, sending the occupants flying with each hit.

Anton took the chance, lunging at Jacobs. He grabbed his right hand and raised the pistol. Anton didn’t “work-out” but he did try to keep in shape. Jacobs shrieked as Anton put all of his force into crushing his drug-addled wrist. His cry caught the attention of the other Vipers, all pointing their guns at the struggling pair. Anton stepped behind Jacobs, keep him between the other Vipers. Anton could smell Jacobs’s foul breath, becoming more ragged each second as they struggled. They held this for some time before Jacobs let out a screech, collapsing his legs and causing Anton to stumble forwards. Jacobs used this opportunity, using all the strength he had to push against where Janet sat, throwing Anton back to his original seat. His head cracked into the glass window. It hadn’t done any serious damage to him. He was sure there would be marks on the glass but did disorient Anton for a second. There was a click. Jacobs had gotten the gun and was now pointing it straight at Anton.

“Ha, now what have you….”

Jacobs’s eyes twitched, no longer focusing on Anton. They were no longer filled with anger but now with fear, panic and despair. Anton looked past Jacobs, seeing two lights reflected in the far windows. The other passengers were no longer looking at either of them but beyond. A sinking feeling overcame Anton. He began to turn around, looking towards the front. The other Vipers were looking behind him as well, stun and shock plastered on their faces. His peripheral vision showed what he dreaded, the headlights of another vehicle. Out the front, he could see the red of the traffic light diffused through the wet window. They had run a red light on a rainy day.

Shit.

The two vehicles collided. For a moment the crashing sound of shattering glass and groan of metal exploded in his ear, not that he or anyone else had time to truly process the implications. Within moments the shattered glass had left the window, spraying forward in jagged shards, ripping into skin, sending Anton’s blood and flesh flying. The metal broke and twisted as if it was alive, piercing first Anton’s body but then travelling through piercing those behind. Both vehicles merged and continued on their combined trajectory, finally crashing to a halt.

Anton’s vision was growing dark rapidly. He no longer had the ability to speak and barely enough to keep his eyes open. Every part of his body was eviscerated. As the darkness rapidly overcame him, he saw something orange and moving. Fire. He heard a scream and then everything went black.