Spawn: The Dark Legend Dossier, #1

-SERPENT’S FALL-

Sluggish and tired, walking along the dingy, cobbled streets of the ‘old town,’ Wayne Scott was a sad man. It was a cold day made worse by a colder wind, whipping up dust from the road, blowing it into his eyes and making them sting. He could also feel a cold, or possibly flu, coming on. At his age, seventy five, the common cold was never ‘nothing to worry about.’ It meant a week in bed and the thought of that made him feel even more miserable as he trudged on through the empty streets.

Few people ever bothered to come into the old town these days and the only other person Wayne saw that morning was a boy, about sixteen years of age, wrapped up in a scarlet sweater, striped scarf and padded blue overcoat. He was gazing through the window of a music shop at an expensive guitar. As Wayne approached he saw him press his hand to one of the panes.

Sorry lad, the shops don’t open till after nine, the old man said, trying to be helpful. The boy looked up and stared, as though he didn’t understand what had been said to him. He had brown eyes, red around the rims from where he had been crying. They were heavy with a lack of sleep, built up over too many days, and as he stood, looking up at Wayne, it seemed as if he were about to cry again.

He did not.

Instead he hobbled off along the cobbles, and out of sight.       

Wayne shrugged the incident away and thought nothing more about it, except for a momentary consideration that children of the modern age needed to be taught some respect. Parents were too lax and too liberal nowadays.

No good could come of it.

He carried on walking, through the old town, before turning out onto the high street where the rustic, decaying Georgian terraces of the old town faced off against the concrete megaliths of modern Worton . The moulded expanse of a mid nineties shopping mega-complex blocked out what little light there was available, making the place all the more cold and dark.

Maybe it was his age, but Wayne hated modern Worton.

It had never been the best place to live, if one was being fair. Worton; a nowhere on the soggy, southern side of Bowland.

Forgotten.

Ignored.

Worton had long ago scraped a living by heavy industry, lead works and manufacturing, allowing all the regional and local government money to be ploughed into the tourist traps of the Fylde coast and Morecambe Bay.

Now it was paying the price.

The industry had gone.

It went away to foreign, cheaper climes and Worton became ten time more of a nowhere place, nothing to show for itself except for a few crumbling, derelict factories and a bitter, jobless population resentful of the hand life had dealt them.

It didn’t help that modern Worton had ideas above its station.

The town council kept ordering the construction of huge buildings, like the shopping complex, which they could not afford to build without feeding off of what little was left of the town’s fading industries. The biggest offender was Police HQ, a skyscraper of steel and glass built in the late nineties. Popular rumour held that it was meant to symbolically represent the idea that the police watched over and protected the town but this was all stuff and nonsense. The thing was just another monstrosity, a monstrosity subsidised by the last big conglomeration in town: Lupus Industries.

They, Lupus, were your stereotypical corporate bully boy, swallowing rivals and crushing competition, treating men as slaves and the town as their playground. Some even blamed them for the decline, reckoning they drove all the other businesses away. Maybe that was partly true, but heavy industry had declined all over the country, not just in Worton- That wasn't entirely the fault of Lupus.

Strange thing was, however, the company had gone suspiciously quiet since the death of the director, ‘Mr Papperdelle’ a couple of years back. They were still operating, still the dominant industrial corporation in town, but what they were now up to... Nobody knew.

Wayne refused to think about Lupus.

It would only upset his liver.

****

It wasn’t long before he reached his destination, the Serpent's Fall Hotel.

Once a grandee, a five star palace, it was now a shell. Once it had catered to money loaded travellers and industrialists. Now it could barely stand.

Wayne was the caretaker and, in so far as he knew it, the only person who had a key apart from the landlord, a solicitor who went by the name of Rutherford. He, Wayne, went in a few times a week to check up on the place and to make sure that no vandals had broken in. He never had any bother.

Wayne slid his key into the rusted lock of the door and, to his surprise, found it open. Upon closer examination he found that it had been forced and not from the outside as one would usually expect. He wondered for a moment if it had something to do with room 450.

Could something have come out of there? No. It wasn’t possible. That thing had never worked, in so far he knew. Rutherford had told him it didn’t work. It was just some weird thing that had always been there. It didn't do anything except make interesting patterns. Rutherford had provided strict instructions that Wayne was never to touch it and in ten years of caretaking he had not once broken that rule. He was not going to start now. Room 450 would remain locked and nobody would or could go in or out.

Shutting the door behind him, Wayne processed into the barren, dust filled lobby of the hotel where only the reception desk was left, waiting for guests who would never come. He walked around the lobby, inspecting the windows and checking for further signs of entry.

He found none.

Then he paused, listening.

He may have been getting on in years but his senses were still razor sharp.

He had definitely heard a coughing, grinding noise followed by three loud bangs.

It had come from somewhere above him.

He headed for the stairs, going to investigate, before hearing something else from the nearby dining room. He turned from the stairs and went towards where it had come from.

Hullo? Is anybody there? Wayne called out. There was no answer but after a few moments there was a second clunking sound. Whoever’s there...

A snarling came from behind him. Wayne turned back to the stairs, frightened.

Crouched halfway up was a nightmare; a horrid, malformed thing that was almost not quite human. It was humanoid in its shape but its face was grey, shallow and scratched, its eyes slits with balls of yellowy hatred. The jaw and nose jutted outwards, in a canine way, and when its lips opened deadly fangs dripped goblets of saliva. When it stood up to full height Wayne saw it had an arched, spined back and long arms, finished off with claw like hands. It wasn't dressed, or what Wayne would call dressed, but it hid its private parts by a thin, raggedy loin cloth and covered its chest with a vest top made of the same stuff.

The thing growled and then looked upwards. Wayne did the same and saw a second creature on the upstairs landing, staring down through the bars and watching him.

He began to back away.

Wayne tried, and failed, to laugh the situation off, hoping that it was a couple of kids fooling around.

Another hiss from behind, near the front door, told him that it wasn’t a joke.

A creature less scarred than the other two was blocking the way out. Wayne, in his terror, ran for the dining room and fell into the reception desk on the way.

Don’t move, whatever you do!

Wayne obeyed, clinging to the reception desk

Compared to the nasal, high pitched, brogue of local folk the voice which had cut through the air was an alien sound. It was deep and if there was any accent there at all it was mostly Bristolian.

Wayne lookedtowards where the voice had come from and found a teenage boy lurking in the shadows.

He emerged from them looking shockingly unwell. He was pale and drawn, like he should have been in hospital. His clothes were ripped to shreds and his arms were covered in fresh cuts and bruises. The skin around his eyes was blackened and bruised, his pupils red and heavy beyond their short years. He was almost identical to the boy whom Wayne had seen outside the music shop, but then again completely different at the same time. They were about the same age but maybe this one was a year or two older. Brothers perhaps?

Are you responsible for these things? Wayne trembled.

The boy had no time to answer.

The creature on the upstairs landing let out a shriek that shook the whole building.

It bounced up onto the balustrade and then plunged down towards the frightened old man.

Before Wayne could even rasp what was happening the boy had launched himself at the creature with lightning reflexes, knocking it sideways, away from Wayne, and into the wall.

The other creatures jeered and egged their companion on as both it and the boy locked themselves into a violent duel, punching and ripping at each other like a pair of savage, wild animals.

It was by no means nice to watch and Wayne turned away from the punching and the slashing and the kicking. He had been in the army as a young man, he had fought in Korea, but he had never seen anything as brutal as that which he witnessed now.

It didn’t take long for the boy to triumph, rendering the creature unconscious, or perhaps it was dead, against the reception desk.

Then he turned on the other two.

They propelled themselves towards him on all fours and the boy let out a burst of energy, swinging his fists into them at the same time as twisting their bodies together in a complex tangle of teeth, claws and blood.

Wayne could now not turn away.

His face was aghast as the three of them tore into each other. Two of them fighting had been horrible but three at once was such carnage that he could hardly move. He was both frightened and transfixed by the scene before him.

In the end only one was victorious, the boy.

When it was all over he sat down on the floor amongst the fallen bodies of his enemies, panting for breath, nursing a shallow gash across one shoulder.

Wayne drunkenly staggered over to him.

He looked upon that boy, his saviour.

Then he ran...

-WHO IS MYSTERY TEEN PROTECTOR?-

-From ‘The Worton Herald’

Written by Lana Straker & Roy Mahon

Over the last week many residents of Worton have been terrified by the sudden and inexplicable appearance of ferocious creatures on our streets. Now it seems that one teen has taken it upon himself to watch over our town and fight these monsters on our behalf.

The creatures, which have been dubbed by scientists at Beiderbecke labs as Homo graffensis (Or 'Graffe' for short) were first sighted from a distance lurking in the car park behind ‘The Fallen Madonna’ public house on the corner of Eden and Station avenues two weeks ago. Sightings have continued to grow across the town whilst reports have also been surfacing concerning a teenage male who has been seen fighting these ‘graffe’ ever since they were first reported by the national press on Friday of last week.

Who he is or why he is fighting the creatures remains unknown, but he has been seen several times by witnesses who claim to have been ‘attacked’ by the creatures.

They were coming for me, Betty Lane, 56 of Gallaston, told us. I didn’t know what to do... And then this boy just dropped right out of the sky in front of me. He saved my life. I didn’t get a good look at him because he just scared the things off and then ran away himself. A more detailed description was provided by Wayne Scott, caretaker of the derelict ‘Serpents Fall’ hotel on Glasgow Street. I’d just gone into work and I found the place had been broken into, he said. Well... These creatures appeared and I was about to run when somebody told me not to move. He wasn’t local for sure. Then he attacked the things. It was... violent... brutal... I‘ve never seen anyone fight like that.

Worton police have issued a statement describing the individual as being around five foot five or six with blue eyes, brown to red hair and somewhere around the age of sixteen.

You can’t go around fighting these creatures without knowing what you are doing, Detective Inspector Peter Fisher, who is leading the investigation into the creatures, informed us. This boy is playing a very dangerous game and if he isn’t careful then he’ll be injured or worse.

It is advised that anyone who sees this boy or who has information regarding his identity should contact DI Fisher at Worton Police HQ with all due haste.

-A TOWN CALLED MALICE-

As told by Randy Barnes

I’m not usually the kind of person who writes stuff down. I don’t keep a diary and I don’t blog. I wasn’t even that good at English whilst I was at school. But Joe asked me to do this so I guess that I’ll give it a go. It probably won’t be very good and I’ll be damned if I can remember all the details. Some of the bits I’ve had to compile from other people's notes on the matter and the rest I’ve had to produce from my own memory. If you’re actually reading this then I guess it’s obvious I didn’t make a complete hash of things. But like I said, I was asked to write this so here goes. This is the story of how I met the man they call 'the legend,' or the boy as he was back then.

Please note: Randy’s views are exactly that... Randy’s views. They are not necessarily the views of anybody else involved with this project. This especially includes those views of his which involve the opposite sex.

1: Beiderbecke

I had lived in Worton all my life, more or less. I had never thought of it as a bad place but it wasn’t anywhere exciting either. Dad had ran away before I was born and Mum had died when I was three. I don’t know why she died. Nobody ever told me. I had been brought up by my Aunt Gertrude and Uncle Rusty who lived in a big house in the town’s nicest quarter, Remoston. I never had many friends and I almost certainly had never been involved with anyone of the opposite sex either. Aunt Gertrude was very prudent when it came to that sort of thing. No girls were allowed. You could say, therefore, that my life had been a lonely one up until this point.

What made things worse was that Uncle Rusty had died of lung cancer about three months ago and now it was just me and Aunt Gertrude rattling around in a big, empty house. In his will Uncle Rusty had left enough money to enrol me at a place called Beiderbecke College on the far side of town. I hadn’t wanted to go, preferring instead to carry on into the sixth form at my old school, Remoston High. At least I knew people there, even if I wasn’t exactly friends with any of them.

Beiderbecke was (apparently) the best run and finest educational establishment in the area, though that was nothing to shout from the rooftops about considering the state of the others. They took in both secondary and sixth form pupils and it wasn’t cheap. A good scholarship, (I.E: One without being required to take the entrance examination) was well over £10,000 per term according to Aunt Gertrude. You didn’t get much for your money either. The place had no boarding facilities, like any decent private school should have, and the choice of subjects wasn’t to my taste either. I had been tempted by the karate lessons but in the end I settled for the more traditional subjects of maths, sociology and history.

Normally you got a choice of whose form you were in but Aunt Gertrude insisted that I was placed in 12B, the form of acting headmistress and head of sixth form Karen Harper, whom Aunt Gertrude had known since she were a girl. I had only met Harper once, at Uncle Rusty’s funeral. I didn’t like her and quite frankly I’d have preferred the good looking physics teacher who interviewed me for the scholarship. I might have even made better friends and not been dragged down to the level of a thug or got involved in a gang war, which I regret to say is what eventually happened.

It was my first day, a bright, sunny one that was the last hurrah of a balmy summer which I had spent mooching around various festivals. I didn’t like any of the music; I just went to get away from home for a bit and too see if I could make a few friends. I hadn’t made any friends.

That doesn’t matter though. What matters is that on that particular day I was running late because I’d got on the wrong bus and ended up going halfway to Dunsop Bridge. I then had to wait for a bus that was going in the right direction and when I finally got to the college I found myself hurrying across the car park towards the sixth form block.

The college was a modest collection of buildings crammed in between an industrial estate and a housing development. Next to the main gate, where I had come from, was the main building, an edifice of glass and steel where they taught the secondary school pupils. Some, but not all, of the sixth formers had lessons in there as well. The science and languages lessons took place in there, for instance.

Next to it, running along the length of the car park and completely dwarfed by the main building, was the two storey, red bricked, sixth form building which also housed the administrative offices and the kitchens. The second floor was home to the relatively small ICT department and where the sixth formers common room was also tucked away. The entire block was connected to the main building by the canteen, which was used by all students and teachers. Behind the front buildings were the library block, the art block and the media suites as well as few other buildings that were used for overflow classrooms. The entire campus was packed tight, only taking up a couple of acres if you included the playing fields.

I passed a side gate near to the sixth form entrance and stopped when I heard a wolf like howl a few streets away. It was unusual to hear the howling in daylight.

‘They’re getting more adventurous’ I thought to myself.

That howling was a sort of communication between the creatures everybody was referring to as graffe. In the last six months, since they had first been sighted here, they had spread across the country and there was talk about some having being spotted in France and Germany, even as far away as Vegas I had read on the internet. Wherever they went they became practically unavoidable, hanging around street corners and preying on any innocent victim who passed their way. The internet claimed they were once ordinary humans like you or me and had somehow ’mutated’ into those things. I wasn’t sure if I believed that or not but it explained how they were able to multiply so rapidly. Human mutations or not, they weren’t pleasant. I didn’t know anybody who wasn’t afraid of them.

I was about to turn away and carry on into the building when there was another unusual sound.

That’s when my life changed forever.

There was a rumbling in the distance, kind of like a mini earth tremor. This was Lancashire though. Earthquakes don’t happen all that often in Lancashire. The rumbling came closer. I foolishly ventured through the gate to see what it was. A tidal wave of dust and grit was rising at the far end of the street. I moved forwards to investigate further, and then froze.

About one hundred graffe, were rampaging down the street in my direction.

Ok... Maybe one hundred is an exaggeration.

There were about ten of them.

I could see the morning sunlight flashing white against their fangs and reflecting off their pale, grey, leathery skin. I could hear the snapping and the snarling getting louder and louder the closer they came.

I’m not sure if it was the stampede or nerves but I was shaking all over, too frightened to even move.

I hadn’t yet clocked that at the head of the stampede, and as a matter of fact the precise cause of that aforementioned stampede, was a boy of my own age. The first I knew of him was when I felt him grab me by the arm and, quite literally, throw me towards the entrance of the sixth form block.

ARE YOU AN IDIOT???? he yelled above the noise. FOR GOD’S SAKE RUN!

I didn’t need telling twice. I began to peg it towards the sixth form entrance. The boy who had saved me was faster and was already sprinting up the steps by the time I got there.

I stumbled and fell against the step and I looked over my right shoulder to see that the first few of the horde had reached us. One lunged and I felt its bony claws begin to dig into my leg and drag me into its jaws. I was absolutely certain that I was done for but once again the boy was looking out for me.

He vaulted down the steps and propelled himself towards the creature, pounding into it with his fists and skilfully dodging its attempts to try and rip into him. I sat against the step, watching the scene in awe. I had never seen anyone do that before, fight the graffe I mean. It was incredible.

GET INSIDE YOU FUCKING IDIOT, he shouted at me, still fighting whilst the rest of the creatures were getting closer. I did as I was told and ran as fast as I could into the building.

Seeing that I was safe the boy ceased fighting and somersaulted through the doors, landing inside on both feet. As he hit the ground, he knocked a latch with his foot and the doors clicked shut. We were both left on the floor of the lobby with only a couple of inches of glass between us and the graffe outside. They hissed angrily, unable to break the safety glass, eventually admitted defeat, and prowled off across the car park.

I was now able to get a good look at my ‘saviour.’ Everything about him was strange, beyond normal, like he wasn’t quite of this earth. His most prominent features were a pair of weird eyes that danced and sparkled, darting this way and that, taking in everything they saw. They were a peculiar shade of blue. His hair was an odd colour as well. It was a dark reddish-rust colour cut short to just above his ears. He wasn’t bad looking or ugly but not what I would call attractive. I wasn’t sure what height he was, I’ve never been very good with that sort of thing, but he was a good deal shorter than I am. He was of an unassuming height I would say but he sucked in the room around him with a powerful, muscular presence. He wasn’t bulky though. He was scrawny.

He stood up, brushed himself down and walked on without checking to see if I was alright.

So I followed him.

Hey... Hey... Wait up, I called out. A girl checking him out looked at me with disgust as I jogged after him. He ignored me. What’s going on? Why were those things chasing you?

They’re called graffe, he answered tetchily, continuing to walk down the corridor, examining the numbers on the doors as he went and doing his best to pretend I wasn’t there.

There’s got to be a reason they were chasing you. He kept silent and continued walking. "Come on... There has to be a reason." He looked at me with irritation.

"If you really want to know... I raided one of their nests last night. Blew it sky high. You might have heard the explosion. I think it’s pissed them off a bit."

I was shocked. I didn’t know much about the creatures but I knew that tangling with them was akin to crocodile wrestling in clothes made from sirloin steaks.

"Why would you do something that suicidal?" I questioned, figuring that the more I pushed him, the more answers I would get. Once again, though, he didn’t answer. He kept on walking. I followed at a short distance.

Eventually he turned around and looked me in the eye with an evil, cold gaze. I shivered.

Are you following me? he asked, sounding annoyed.

I wanna know a few things, I told him. He looked at me before spying a piece of paper on the floor. He picked it up tossed it his hand for a second before childishly lobbing it straight in my direction, a look of abject disgust on his face. I didn’t know if I should be offended by his action or let it drop.

Hey! We both turned as a girl came at us from down the corridor. If I’m being truly honest the first thing I noticed were her breasts. They were bigger than any I had ever seen, except perhaps on the internet. She had hair that was frizzy and flowed right down to her shoulders in an outdated eighties way. She was damned attractive. I thought that from the moment our eyes first met.

What are you doing? Are you bullying him? she asked, pushing the boy away from me and pinning him up against the wall with one arm. I was mightily pleased. Somebody was sticking up for me... ME! And she was a she and she was stunning! For one moment I thought all was right with the world and that very soon I would be joining the mile high club, whatever that is. I was wrong. As it turned out she wasn’t sticking up for me at all. She was trying to seduce him.

"Yeah? What if I am bullying him?" the boy asked, staring deep into her eyes. She looked over him for a smidgen or so and then slid up against him so that her pelvis was resting against his. Placing one hand on his shoulder she seductively and gradually ran her fingers up his chest and grabbed his shirt collars, pulling him towards her.

Let's just say that I like them bad like you... She licked her lips, an invitation for him to kiss her. The boy cocked his head to one side, almost leaning in as if he were going to kiss her. He was interested, I could tell. "Come on bad boy... Why don't we find a quiet corner of the campus so we can take a trip down Coronation Street?" The boy smiled, like he was about to agree. But then he did something I have never been able to fathom. He pushed her away and shook his head.

Sorry, I’m spoken for, he told her in a matter of fact kind of way, as if the last few seconds had never happened.

The girl looked disappointed and walked away, standing on the opposite side of the corridor and staring back at him with cold, rejected eyes. He looked at her with interest for a second then turned away.

I wondered what he was thinking. Usually, I find, you can work out someone's thoughts from their facial expressions but I couldn’t fathom him much at all. There was something about him that scared me, something not quite right about him. I mean, think about it: A good looking girl comes over, practically offers herself on a plate and only then after leading her on he pushes her away without any decorum, nobility or honour. Who does that? I found this behaviour strange and out of kilter with that of normal human beings. Then again, as I was soon to find out, he wasn’t normal.

I shook off my feelings and decided that he might benefit from a bit of friendly advice, just because I’m a nice sort of guy.

I leant against the wall next to him and folded my arms, putting my best serious face on as I did so.

Unfortunately my advice didn’t quite sound the way I wanted it to and it all came out a bit wrong.

God... I’d never turn down a piece of her, I said casually. The girl obviously heard and looked taken aback, maybe even disgusted. The boy, meanwhile, turned and sneered at me with the same disgust. At the time, I saw this as a simple rejection of my advice and so I tried to back it up with some evidence from the much coveted ‘Randy Barnes guide to dealing with the opposite sex.’

"I mean even if she was no longer interested there are ways you could..."

I felt a short, sharp smack across the back of my head. Somebody had just slapped me, but I hadn’t quite grasped the situation and thought the person was just trying to get my attention. I always have been a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to things like that you see.

I looked around to find that I had been struck by a short ginger girl.

That’s illegal you pervert. Her face was kind of plain, she wore no makeup and her lips were pursed together. She might have been worth romancing had I not eternally messed things up by responding to her comment with: Not really so long as she doesn’t scream, then it’s not illegal. I had heard that from somewhere, perhaps it was on the internet. The same source had also helpfully informed me that it also wasn’t a crime if you shouted 'surprise' beforehand. Clearly she hadn’t heard of this as she slapped me again. Feeling hurt I retaliated and slapped her back.

I heard a sickening crunch and felt a pain as my back slammed against the wall and I was lifted into the air. The boy had grabbed me by the collars and was staring at me. Angry.

I’m beginning to regret ever saving your life, he hissed. "All I’ve seen you do so far is harass innocent girls and act like a complete dick. Now if you don’t stop it, I will personally throw you into a graffe nest with the words EAT ME written in permanent marker on your forehead. Do you understand?" I nodded out of fear for my life and he let me drop to the floor.

"JUST BECAUSE HE’S A FAT LITTLE...GUMPERT... DOESN’T GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO GO THREATENING HIM LIKE THAT," the good looking girl screeched in our direction. Now she really was sticking up for me, although I wasn’t in any sort of state to savour the moment. My head was sore and I had an agonizing pain down my spine.

The boy looked at the girl.

WOW! he exclaimed. You’ve changed your tune. A minute ago you liked bad boys. You even wanted me to take you up Coronation Street.

A sense of foreboding washed over me as the good looking girl became as angry as the boy had been a few moments before. Also sensing the danger he began to back away from her, slowly. The only time he took his eyes away from her was for one second when he collided with a pair of students, both male, who had been watching for a while. He apologised quickly and turned back to the good looking girl, confident again. Cocky.

If I’m being honest, he started, you strike me as a bit of slut. You obviously don’t, as you put it, ‘like bad boys’ and really you probably just saw me, thought I was easy prey, and decided you wanted to get into my pants.

HOW DARE YOU!

The girl made to strike him but for some reason, which I don’t quite understand, the ginger girl charged into her and they both ended up on the floor pulling chunks out of each other like rabid animals. I stepped forwards to try and resolve the situation by separating them but that was the moment when the boy decided to start a fight with me. I don’t know why, but he suddenly, and very carelessly, pulled me away from my intervention.

Now I’m not one for fighting, that much should be evident, but already this guy had called me an idiot, nearly got me killed, thrown a piece of paper at me and slammed me so hard against the wall that my back now hurt. I’d had enough of being pushed around.

I made my move but misjudged my first strike, missed and tried again. Rather than let me hit him he just grabbed my arm and forced it backwards before smashing his fist into my jaw. Needless to say I was soon on the floor being beaten to a pulp. I felt someone attempt to pull the boy off me but it did little good as I then found myself squashed between the two girls and the boy, who was now fighting with one of those whom he had walked into a few moments ago.

Unfortunately, the boy was fighting both of us at once and I was getting the flak from both of them. I tried to get out but ended up being propelled backwards into another student who was standing on the sidelines and watching.

WHAT IN GOD’S HOLY NAME IS GOING ON HERE?

The fighting stopped and we all looked up to see Harper striding towards us from down the corridor. The boy was the only one standing tall amidst the maelstrom and carnage of our battered bodies.

"YOU LOT... MY OFFICE... NOW!

****

Harper interviewed us all one by one.

I was the second to last to be called in and as it transpired everyone else had blamed me for the fighting. It was like they had all agreed on a scapegoat beforehand. I tried to argue my case as best I could but Harper was having none of it and insisted on phoning Aunt Gertrude. I could hear the screeching before Harper had even finished dialling. My god... Aunt Gertrude was pissed off.

****

The boy was the last to be interviewed.

He was sat apart from the others outside Harper’s office when I was kicked out. He looked up at her as she pointed to him and beckoned.

He stood up, arrogantly