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    LJH
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Even Stars Die - 15. Chapter 15

Alex confronts Marx...

...And reappeared in the gardens of the The Green and Gold Sports Club.

   

His untucked white shirt glistened in the afternoon sunshine. His blue jeans pulled down to just below the cut of his abs. His pitch black hair fell over his face, waving slightly in the afternoon breeze matching the colour of his eyes. The smile that had loved Keegan was no more. The soft aura of his being was no more. His soul had been laid to dust and now he had work to do.

   

His mission; to deal with the present, the past and the future. Walls needed to be broken down, beginning with Marx.

   

The man at the door, dressed in a black suit and tie, stepped forward as Alex approached. Ruthlessly seeking to increase his own influence, he blocked Alex from entering.

   

'Sorry sir, members only.'

   

Alex glared. This was not the time for pleasantries. His gaze undressed the man's pushy arrogance.

   

'I will need to see your membership card, sir.'

   

Beauracracy and Alex avoided the same bed.

   

There were two solutions here, one: beat the living daylights out of this doorman, or two:

   

Alex smiled briefly then gently placed a hand on the man's tense shoulder. The doorman exhaled like a balloon spitting out air, then relaxed.

   

'Welcome to the Green and Gold, sir.' He opened the door and allowed Alex in.

   

A display of famous South African sportsmen hung on the green walls. Two couples ate lunch in the dining area while three men gathered together at the bar, raising their glasses in a toast.

   

One of them was Jeffrey Marx.

   

A topless waitress aproached Alex and smiled, 'may i get you something from the bar, sir?'

   

'No thanks. I've found what I want.'

   

He headed in the direction of the group of three men. Marx raised his head, stared directly into Alex's eyes. In mid sentence his mouth stopped moving.

   

His eyes grew wider.

   

His face turned paler than a hen's egg.

   

He dropped his glass onto the bar counter, turned and sprinted away in the direction of the men's toilet and locked the door from the inside.

   

Locked doors and closed windows did little to stop Alex from manifesting himself inside the toilet. One cubicle door was closed. He stood facing the door, hands by his sides, legs spread apart, head slightly leaning forward, eyes as black as the nothingness of space.

   

He waited.

   

After a few moments the door creaked open and Marx's head appeared in the crack.

   

A thousand volts must have surged through his body and he quickly pushed the door closed the moment he saw Alex.

   

The door wouldn't close. He pushed and pushed, still, it wouldn't close.

   

Instead, it flung open and the momentum kicked him back onto the toilet seat, where he remained seated. Regaining his composure he leaped to his feet and punched at Alex.

   

Left, right. Left right.

   

The attack was futile. The first two punches landed squarely on Alex's jaw and cheek and he didn't so much as wince.

   

The next two landed

   

then disappeared into Alex's face and out the other side.

   

'What the...fuck!'

   

Marx fled. Headed for the locked toilet door. Alex suddenly appeared in front of him. Marx backed up, slowly...

   

'You...you're not human...you...' Not another word spilled from his mouth as he was lifted off the ground.

   

Hands squeezed tightly against his sides as though magnetised.

   

Alex moved his head slightly and marx catapulted through the air, hitting the far wall, falling to the floor. Slightly dazed, he managed to crawl onto his feet and attempt another attack.

   

Alex stood his ground. Marx collided with him. Alex didn't budge. Marx bounced away and scrambled onto the floor.

   

'Who...who the fuck are you!?' His voice trembled. His eyes shut tightly.

   

'I might ask you the same question.' Alex said, stepping closer. 'Who gives you the right to invade my space, send people to kill me? Who gives you the right to attack my man, make him suffer through your own suffering? Who gives you this right?'

   

'He's a fucking queer, that's what, the bible says it's wrong.'

   

Alex laughed. 'Its wrong? According to the bible, murder is wrong. You seem to be profficient at that. Are qyeers tearing you limb from limb? No. Are they going out of their way to attack your way of life? No. Let me guess you hate harry Potter books too because they assault the poor little defenseless children with witchcraft. So go kill Jk Rowling. Your arrogance signs bright. People like you that think their religious opinions are whats right and all other people's opinion matter not because of what "your bible" says. God also gave you a freedom......the freedom to choose your destiny. You chose wrong. Get up!'

   

Marx whimpered like a cheetah calling her cubs to enjoy the meal she'd stalked. He remained crumpled on the floor.

   

A voice from beyond the toilet door called out. 'Open up! Marx, open up! What's going on in there?'

   

Alex smiled and answered in Marx's voice. 'Be out in a sec. Sorry. Sick!' Alex stepped towards Marx. Marx backed up, trembling from head to toe.

   

'I said, get up!'

   

'What...what are you going to do to me?'

   

    * * *

   

Marx parked his car behind Alex's smashed vehicle, then Alex accompanied him up the steps to the front door, nudging him to climb faster. The masked stranger lay crumpled on the floor of the lounge, blood pooling along the wooden floor, gun lying beside him. Marx stepped back.

   

'This is the result of your dirty work.' Alex pointed at the lifeless body. 'Pick up the gun'

   

Marx shook his head.

   

'Then, I'll just have to give it to you.'

   

The gun lifted off the floor and floated towards Marx, landing hard in his hand.

   

'Now shoot me.' Alex said.

   

The hand trembled. He tried to drop the weapon but it wouldnt fall out of his hand. He shook it like flicking water. The gun remained stuck to the palm of his hand.

   

'Shoot me, Marx. After all, that's what you sent this imbecile to do. Shoot me!'

   

'No! No I won't shoot you.'

   

'Shoot me! Marx. You think you can control people and make them bow to you by using violence. You live on the edge and now you have this opportunity to show the world exactly who you are. A man who takes no shit from anyone. Right? So shoot me because if you don't I'm going to make you wish you had. Deal, or no deal?'

   

'Okay! Okay! Just shut the fuck up!'

   

A shot rang out. The bullet hit Alex in the head.

   

Passed through and embedded itself in the wall.

   

Alex moved forward slightly, and smiled.

   

'The carbon residue is on your hands now. By the way, the police are on their way. Enjoy the rest of your life.'

   

Sirens approached as two police cars screeched to a halt in the road, one turned into the drive, blocking Marx's vehicle.

 

Before vanishing, Alex said, 'Like I said, you always seem to make the wrong choices.'

Louis J Harris
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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