More Stories: No Proof Needed

I haven’t posted any writing in quite awhile and so now that I’ve completed a chapter in my next book, I thought I would share it. Nice of me, I know. The chapter is called “First Strikes,” and it’s broken down into smaller stories. If you remember, the characters in my previous chapters were let down by the law, this is the revenge chapter. So without further ado:

First Strikes

Part 1: No Proof Needed

At this time in the afternoon, the bus usually stopped a little longer to let in the influx of children from nearby Manor Park School, who were going home for the day. Like every other day, the most popular venue was the top level of the red double decker bus. It was here where two large groups splintered off and sat in their groups at opposite ends of the bus, while a few stragglers found empty seats where they could. If any of them noted the fifteen or so hooded figures sitting around the bus in different places, none of them said anything.

Two uneventful stops gave the impression that it was going to be another mundane bus ride home. However, around thirty seconds after the bus was on its way again, a boy from the large group of teens near the front of the bus sauntered up to the very front and had a quick scan to see if anyone was watching. Thinking no one was paying attention to him, he stuck a piece of paper over what was the bus’s camera. Once that was done, the forward group got up and suddenly surrounded a vulnerable looking boy with large black glasses and a hamster like face, sitting on his own. Without warning, the entire group rained slaps upon the boy’s head in between taunts of “Take that, weirdo!” When the victim attempted to slide down in his seat for protection, he was pulled up by his coat and the group continued their assault.

Meanwhile, the rearward group of teens surrounded a young girl who didn’t look as vulnerable. She had straight, auburn hair which slid down to the middle of her back and seemed to highlight her pale blue eyes. They in turn seemed to augment her slender body which gave the impression that she could be a model.

“Hey you bitch, you think you’re so much better than me!” shouted a short, stocky girl with short black hair that would have curled if allowed to grow. Before, the seated young lady had any chance to respond, the aggressor swung her arm and landed a back hand across her target’s face. Again, before the girl had any chance to respond, two boys from the group grabbed her arms. Now helpless, the aggressive female continued her slaps, joined by a second girl who aimed her slaps at the top of her target’s head. With their victim powerless, the two girls continued their onslaught to the laughter of the boys holding her arms.

Both groups continued their beat downs until a boy from the forward group spied a hooded figure removing the piece of paper used to cover the camera lens. “He’s taken the sticker off!” the boy shouted raising the alarm.

The forward gang immediately stopped their assault. “You better put that back or we’ll give you a hiding,” warned the tallest and toughest looking boy in the group. While he was talking, two of his friends suddenly fell forward into him. As he turned around, the two friends were grabbed back and four hooded figures were punching and kicking them. Before the tall boy could help his friends, he was sent flying forward by a well placed kick to the middle of his back. As he tried to recover, he was pulled up by his collar and received a fistful of brass knuckles across his cheekbone. Bewildered by what was going on, the two remaining members of the group, one a girl, both received brass knuckle sandwiches before they could react.

Someone from the aft group spotted what was going on at the front of the bus and shouted out, “Oh my God!” Whereupon the rest of the group, including the two girls, stopped their assault on the young girl to see what was happening. Suddenly, seven more hooded figures surrounded them and brass knuckled fists found their marks on the assailants. The speaking girl was punched several times while the boy holding the victim’s arms, closest to the window was grabbed by two pairs of strong hands and his head smashed against the bus window. Seven hooded figures now rained punches and kicks and in the case of the non-speaking girl, she was grabbed by the hair and her face smashed into the seat. The attack continuing for several minutes before the hooded gang made sure no one was able to get up.

“You need to get off the bus,” was whispered to both of the original intended victims.

“But this isn’t my stop,” the boy victim whined to his saviours.

The female victim also indicated she had five more stops to go but the hooded group was having none of it. A reassuring voice whispered to her, “Don’t worry, we have that sorted.”

At the next stop, the vigilantes took the two youngsters they had rescued and escorted them off the bus. None of the beaten teens dared to do anything to hinder the departure. However, as the last hooded figure made their way to the steps to go down, one brave boy from the beaten hoodlums shouted, “I’m calling the police on you!”

Before the last hooded figure turned to deplane the bus, they responded with a voice which was obviously disguised through a voice distorter, “Go ahead. Now, you’ll think again before you attack any innocent victims on the bus.”

After the bus had departed for its next stop, the hooded group did everything possible to reassure the bewildered teens they had just rescued that all would be well. “They won’t ever bother you again, if they try, we’ll be back,” one of the group promised. Meanwhile, a taxi suddenly appeared from nowhere and stopped and one rescuer indicated, “Here’s the taxi, I called.” Both children were ushered into it and one of the hooded figures handed the driver a twenty pound note with the instruction that he take both children home.

The hooded group watched the taxi drive off and then, without any congratulatory ceremony, splintered off in different directions. In less than a minute, it seemed as if the vigilantes had never been there.

Marcel Richards, known as Denzil Washington to the group because he liked “The Equalizer” movies, had walked half a mile before he was confident that he was on his own. Trying to be as discreet as possible, he scanned the surrounding area looking for surveillance cameras. Seeing none, he continued up the main road before turning into a narrow side road some one hundred feet further. Walking a little ways down that road and positive no one was looking, he removed the hoodie which had concealed his true identity. Tucking it under his arm, he reversed direction and headed back to the main road, all the while, feeling a great sense of justice and satisfaction. He had helped in dispensing justice that had been previously denied. While he walked to the remaining distance which would take him back to the train station to go back to Birmingham, Marcel could only hope that the same type of justice would be meted out in his case.