Better to Reign in Hell - 1. Better to Reign In Hell

hapter 1

Better to Reign in Hell...

By WL

 

The scene could not be more perfect with the amazing views of a wide open vineyard and a large Spanish influenced home right in the center. Mark Buchannan-Breckenridge was the happiest gay man that anyone would envy. He had made large amounts of money from savvy investments without lying or cheating like his Wall Street friends. He had a nice family owned home that was beautiful and amazing to the eyes.

 

Above all else, he had a wonderful family; a partner named Steve that loved him and a little 6 year old boy named Brian, who idolized him. Mark and Steve had gotten a surrogate mother 7 years ago to carry Brian to term. The brown hair and strong cheeks were dead giveaways that Mark's sperm won out to Steve's amusement. Life was perfect for Mark; it was almost too good to be true.

 

Mark's father came by his old home to visit his son and his family; he had long accepted his son's sexuality and was proud of him for doing so well in life. Brian welcomed his grandfather with a big hug, which the old man reacted by presenting the child with a toy gun that he had wanted for his birthday, but neither his fathers would give to him.

 

"Dad, I don't want Brian to grow up thinking gun violence is good" Mark scolded his elderly father.

 

"Mark, I love you for who you are, but be realistic, every boy plays with guns as kids including you. It doesn't hurt anyone to have a little fun," his father responded.

 

"Dad, just promise me, you won't take him out hunting, when he gets old enough. I couldn't chew down any meat for years after that hunting trip, when I was 12," Mark said as he remembered the incident.

 

(***)

 

The hunting trip with his dad was Mark's idea originally; he wanted to shoot and hunt like his father after hearing stories about hunting deer. Well, Mark's father thought it would be a good experience for the boy and Mark accompanied his father on his next camping trip with his business friends, among them Mr. Eugene "Gene" Breckenridge, Steve's dad. The trip was pretty normal and Gene thought Mark took to the hunter role naturally, which he wished his own son, Steve, had shared.

Mark was given a Remington 572 Field master, which is a pump action single shot rifle. He enjoyed shooting with the gun for both practice and lessons from his father; he was a quick study on the pump action design and how to make a single shot, an accurate kill shot. The other men, who had been hunting for years, remarked that Mark was a natural sniper.

During the second to last day, Mark followed the trail of a herd of deer and eyed a nice doe grazing. He crept behind some brush and kept still for her to relax. A good hunter does not act fool-heartedly, but wait for his kill to make the right move to initiate a clean kill. He saw the doe lower her head to graze; he pumped his rifle once, aimed, and shot. Mark made a perfect motion within 3 seconds of the target releasing its guard. Mark moved in to collect his kill, but he saw something that stung him. Three small deer were all surrounding him; they were most likely the doe's kids. He tried to aim at one of them, but he felt like he could not. He had lost the lust for death that he came into the trip with.

 

(***)

 

"Son, it's a shame that you never went hunting with me again; you were a natural," his father wishfully said. The old man in his twilight years wanted to connect with his only son; the sad truth was that during Mark's younger days, he couldn't accept his son was gay. The rift went on for years and he wished he never wasted time with Mark.

 

The day turned into night and Mark's father had a nice time talking with his son and Steve, again. Steve and Mr. Buchannan's relationship had gone from animosity with threats like "Don't you ever go near my son again, Fag!" to "I think of you as my other son, Stevie-boy".

 

Steve's dad was a well known Democratic politician in California and Mark's dad was a powerful mega-conglomerate, who turned the old family business from farm insurance and a few small factories to high technologies and telecommunication. The old politician and big businessman's friendship was still something that kept up after their sons mutual attraction and they became father-in-laws.

 

After dinner, the three continued to converse, while little Brian was upstairs playing some video games on his X-Box 360. The conversation turned a little emotional after Mr. Buchannan said something to Mark and Steve.

 

"Guys, you got to get away from these gay rights' people and the media blitz. There are still people out there, who don't like gays," Mark's dad said in caution.

 

"Dad, what do you think they will do? This is a free country. We are just living like the rest of these people. Come on, we got a right to stand up for others that cannot do it. Like 45 states in this country still do not recognize gay marriage, most of them do not recognize gay adoption either. When we have so much shit like that in our country, it shouldn't be a matter of fear, but principle that we do something," Mark retorted his dad.

 

"Mr. Buchannan, my dad is fighting the same fight that we are; it takes every bit of strength he has to argue with the other house members to open up hearings on the fair employment issues of gay and lesbians. These issues cannot be held back, because we are afraid of some insane religious figures or pseudo-psychologists that got kicked out of the APA," Steve chimed in.

 

Mr. Buchannan looked at them, "Boys, I will not tell you how to live your lives? I am proud of both of you and I support what you strive for. This country was founded on the principles that everyone is supposedly born equal and free. All three of us came from privileged backgrounds, so let's not fool ourselves into thinking that the principle of "equality" held true economically at least not in this century. Well for the rest of the principles for society, it really hasn't ever lived up to those promises. It took us 100 years to get rid of slavery and racism is only beginning to go out of style. Most people that fought against bigotry and inequality did not live to see the end of it. Americans are hypocritical to an extent; we will support freedom and equality for people that most Americans accept. Everyone else is just an afterthought and they really don't want to keep changing their minds for new groups to be accepted after they learn about them from a CNN exclusive. Those religious guys and pseudo-psychologists are tapping into something that has been in the very fabric of this country, since it was founded. If you take away one form of hate, then another will always take its place. People don't really want equality; they want to know someone else is below them. It makes them happier about their lives, so they keep it that way by force. Yeah, eventually, gay rights might win out, but the costs to the crusaders will be huge," Mr. Buchannan responded to them.

 

Mark and Steve did not want to argue with him. It was not an argument anyone can win; there is no clear cut solutions to social issues. A small silence held the living room before a small shout came from the corner.

 

"Bang, poppa you're dead," little Brian screamed pointing his new toy gun at Steve.

 

A roar of laughter could be heard from all three men.

 

"Dad, would you reconsider your stance on gun violence, ha!" Mark squeaked out between his jovial laughs.

 

His father was engulfed in good humor at this moment and forgot the entire episode before. Mark and Steve softened up, but they still scolded their son for pulling a gun on Steve.

 

It was becoming dark and Mark asked his dad to stay over, because it would be a long drive back to his house in West Garden Grove. Mark had once asked his father, why he didn't just stay at the old family vineyard. His father replied that it was now "his family home" and he wanted it to be kept like that.

 

They all went to bed in a nice and sweet state, where dreams would fill their minds with strange images of the day's events. However, nothing will prepare them for what shall come next.

 

"Get up faggots!" a loud screaming voice said.

 

Mark felt disoriented to be disturbed out of his restful dream and he realized that he was now in a nightmare. He staggered to his feet as Steve untangled himself from Mark in their nightly games of pleasure, which they had shared, since they were teenagers.

 

"Now, on your feet faggots!" the man, who was wearing a ski-mask, loudly said.

 

"Please take whatever you want, but don't hurt my family," Mark pleaded. He was met with the back end of a rifle.

 

"We're not here for mortal possessions; God commanded us to purge the earth of sinners and your name was at the top of our lists," the man screamed. A second man with a ski-mask came into the room and pointed a shotgun at Steve.

 

"I'll take this faggot downstairs; Johnny got the fag's kid down there already. I think you should work him over Bill up here in the room before we take him downstairs to get re-acquainted with his faggot family," the sinister man gave a smile to his comrade.

 

Steve protested, but threats and promises that they would spare little Brian made both Mark and Steve content. They did not want their son to die; no matter what happened to them. Steve and Mark made one last eye contact with each other, which they expected to be their last meeting. The moment was filled with emotion: how can anyone fill fifteen years of love with a ten seconds glance? Memories of their first meeting were filtering through their minds.

 

(***)

 

Mark just came back from the hunting trip with his father in a daze. He really killed that poor doe for no reason at all. His father had seen his son's problem with the dear slaying and understood how the first kill could affect someone. His father justified the decision to bring his son along by the reason that "it is not a perfect world out there and he's got to learn to kill or be killed". That principle was going through Mark's mind, but it was not something he wanted to accept.

 

Gene Breckenridge was visiting the vineyard a few hours after the hunting trip with some paperwork for a political donation between Mr. Buchannan's business and his campaign for mayor at the time. Along with Gene, Steve came to the Buchannan's house for the first time. Steve was a skinny 13 year old boy, who appeared slightly frail and pale. Mark took one look at him and he felt an instant attraction. Nothing happened that day between them, but they got to know each other, while their fathers discussed business.

 

Mark would go to Steve's home a couple of times and Steve would do the same. Sometimes they might even have sleepovers or small camp outs in the distant wooded acres of the Vineyard. It started off with a deep friendship that eventually became deep love as the years progressed.

 

(***)

 

Steve was taken out of the room within moments. The angry man with the religious pretext began his attacks on Mark with the butt of his rifle. He kept yelling at Mark, who was now on the floor after a severe hit on his knee.

 

"Faggot that's where your kind belongs on your knees before real men," the man screamed as he continued his assault. However, he had not noticed that another person had entered the room with an old baseball bat. With a whack, Mark's father took the man down.

 

"You alright Mark that bastard didn't hurt you too bad," Mark's father asked his son, who was bleeding slightly from his head and could feel that his ribs were broken.

 

"Dad, you got to call the police," Mark said.

 

"I already did with my cell phone, but there was some kind of road problem, so it will take them an hour to get here by the side roads. Let's get you into the panic room," Mark's father lifted his son up. Mark's dad had done some major renovating before he had left the home to Mark, which included a panic room just in case of home invasion.

 

"Dad, I can't abandon Steve and Brian, please let me stay and help them," Mark pleaded with his father, who had just taken the masked man's gun.

 

"No can do boy, we got to get you into safe territory first. You're not ex-military; even if you still remembered what I taught you about shooting a gun, you're still not trained enough for a real fight against an unknown number of combatants," Mark's father had slipped into his old war minded way of thinking. His grandfather had wanted each male member of the family to be in at least one war, but Mark's father had been in two, Korea and Vietnam, which was surprising since Mark's father should not have been shipped to Korea during the last year of the conflict due to army regulation at the time for training of raw recruits. However, political pressure and a good recommendation from your instructors would accelerate anyone's placement.

 

Mark and his father hobbled towards the panic room. Mark was now keen that his kneecaps were busted and a sense of pain was radiating from his ribs. As they neared the secret doorway behind a sliding wall panel with a knob that looked like a thermostat, a man fired a shot on Mark's dad with a shotgun. A shotgun unlike a regular solid shot rifle will spread into tiny fragments over a larger area. Mark's father had covered his son upon hearing footsteps behind him.

 

Mark eyed the man reloading his gun and in a quick motion took the rifle in his father's hands. He aimed and shot the man right in between the eyes. The man fell to the ground immediately.

 

"Dad, are you okay?" Mark pleaded.

 

"Get into the panic room, now!" his father retorted.

 

Mark had to hobble quickly to the false wall panel with his father both supporting and in need of support from Mark after the shot. Mark grabbed the knob and twisted to reveal the door with a key combination to the panic room; Mark entered the key sequence and pulled himself and his dad into the room. He locked the panic room with a quick tap of a side console.

 

Mark's panic room was stocked with medical supplies, which he tried to apply to his father's wounds as soon as he could. His father had to teach him about battlefield triage, which he barely remembered himself and the wound was not helping to jog his memory faster. Mark was also suffering from pain, which he took a few extra strength Tylenols to reduce.

 

Along the walls were screens connected to an old camera system in the house that Mark's father setup years ago. Mark had wanted to remove his father's cameras this summer, because he had felt that the cameras were a bit Orwellian for his tastes. Now, Mark desperately wanted to see the fate of his son and husband after he had done all he could for his father. He turned on the screen and viewed the ensuing tragedy with low definition.

 

(The living room)

 

The man that had been knocked out by Mark's father was present downstairs with a handgun now and another had just come down the main staircase with a rifle.

 

"Bill, the faggot or the other guy shot Johnny and went into the panic room," the new guy coming down told his accomplice, who visibly was swearing and cursing.

 

"By the lord's name, we shall purge this faggot's home," he aimed his gun at Steve, who was content after hearing Mark had escaped.

 

Three shots were fired into Steve's head.

 

"Poppa, why did you shoot my poppa?" Brian screamed at the sight of his poppa lying on the floor in his own blood.

 

"Little one, I will give you a choice; if you come with us, we won't hurt you and we can show you the glories of the lord's work," the man named Bill said.

 

"No, I wanna be with my poppa and daddy," Brian told him.

 

(Panic Room)

 

"Brian, please go with them, please for your daddy," Mark whispered under his breath. The saddest truth in life that anyone should ever face was upon him. His ideals were compromised; his very foundations for morality were on breaking point. Mark had just witnessed his partner's death with the greatest sadness that any of us can imagine. Now, he was praying that these men would take his sweet loving son away from him to be turned into a monster.

 

Mark had heard about various religious groups' notions on curing youths of their homosexual affliction even in Brian's case: electro-shock therapy, drug treatments to make the child more receptive, and even brain surgery. Afterward, their minds will be warped by constant bantering back and forth with several lines of scripture, which will keep them focused on the same goal as these monsters. Why in the name of all that is humanity and even God would Mark ask for this?

 

He doesn't want his son to die; it is so simply and poignant. At the razor's edge, human beings will sacrifice everything for the survival of either themselves or someone they love. To love someone so much that you are willing to have them live on in torture, it is uniquely human.

 

(Living Room)

 

"What you think Adam? Is the kid a lost cause?" Bill asked his comrade, who was eying the small boy clinging to his dead poppa and covered in blood.

 

"I saw the news report about this kid; he was born unnaturally against the lord's ways. He is an equal abomination as the faggots," Adam told his companion.

 

Bill aimed at the small boy with his handgun and gave the trigger a pull. The bullet exited the other side of Brian's head and landed on the floor. The little boy stood still and could not really move. His body was fidgeting with attempts of movement like the brain did not know which side his hands or legs were.

 

Bill was about to take another shot at Brian, but Adam waved him to stop.

 

"Bill, we got to get going; the road problem on the main road will not stop the police forever. Leave the faggot with this warning and let his unholy seed move slowly into hell," Adam told his comrade.

 

They both left the house as quickly as they had arrived, but there was more silence in their wake than with the sleeping inhabitants in their dreams before.

 

---

 

Time passed quickly after Brian was shot as Mark did not know what was happening anymore. The police came into his home and he was rushed to the hospital. His father was in critical condition, but he was expected to survive due to the medical treatment in the panic room earlier. There were reporters trying to entice Mark with questions, but he was unresponsive. There was no sign of life in him until a doctor came to his bed side with new news.

 

"Brian is not dead, it took us 7 hours of intensive neural surgeries to stabilize him, but your son is still alive. We need your signature to perform another round of surgery, since you are his primary guardian. I hope that's a little comfort after everything else," the doctor told Mark, who came to life.

 

"He's a....ALIVE, HE'S ALIVE!" Mark was quite surprised and tears trickled down his face.

 

Mark finally could collect his thoughts together again and signed for the surgery in his hospital bed. Everything else went wrong, but his son was still with him.

 

However, Mark started remembering Steve after the euphoria from the news that his son survived the ordeal. Steve was his other half, his soul mate, but he's gone now. Mark could not contemplate life without Steve: he could not contemplate life without the boy that he grew up with, the teenager who taught him how to dance naked under the starry sky, the college graduate who helped him with their first start-up company, and the man who was also the father of their son. It's a loss no lover, whether you are gay or straight, can ever reconcile.

 

Again time seemed to flow quickly, Mark was questioned by police again trying to give descriptions of the masked men, but he never saw their faces. He was asked to sign various forms from doctors for his son's treatment. Reporters tried to approach him for an interview at which he scoffed and cursed them instantly for using his pain as a media story.

 

Mark watched the news on TV talking about his family and things like his father being at another hospital with paralysis due to the shot or the chances that his son would survive the next round of surgeries. He felt sick at the sight of these vultures, who were giving mocked sympathy, while telling everyone what his son's chances are to live.

 

He also saw certain other notable interviews from evangelists and anti-gay opponents, who also shared an indifferent sympathy; while extolling their mantra's that this is what the gay lifestyle would get you. These are the same people, who have these zealots in their congregation that wants to "purge the earth".

 

It is quite easy to say that there was nothing on TV worth watching, but Mark wanted to hear the news for updates on the manhunt.

 

Mark had asked a male nurse, who was sympathetic with his situation, to take him to see his son in the PICU or the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit as often as the nurse was on shift. He still had trouble walking long distances, so he needed someone to help him with a wheelchair or later on with crutches.

 

The young male nurse was named Dave and he had been inspired by Mark's example, when he showed the world his great family. It was his personal aspiration to be like Mark, who had everything that anyone could have asked for and more. We all need heroes to look up to; especially if our own lives are not so great. Dave was your average gay male; he was shunned by his family and he was trying to live life as best he could after numerous failed relationships. Without his families support, he could not go into medical school and chose the nursing route, which was considerably cheaper and offered him time to make money for medical school later. Yet, Dave is aiding his fallen hero to his feet in one of the bitterest twists of all.

 

Mark had seen his son numerous times and it was all the same, just the same look of expressionless horror from seeing Steve killed before his eyes. He kept wanting to see something else; the childhood innocence, the care-free boy, or even the redoubtable son that he had come to expect and love. No, it was the same expression and same look.

 

Gene Breckenridge came by to visit Mark many times in the past week, along with visits to Brian in the PICU and his old friend ten miles away at the other hospital. There was a great sadness from the weary old congressman, who never thought he would bury his own son. Gene tried to comfort Mark, but Mark knew that Gene needed comfort equally, too. He had always thought of Gene as his second father and friend; Gene was more accepting than his own father and he actually got the ball rolling for their reconciliation later on. Yet, Gene was in no mood to reconcile.

 

"I swear, Mark, if it is the last thing I do, you guys will get justice!" Gene kept saying after being reminded of his son's death.

 

The manhunt had gone on for days. The two remaining guys were continuing their rampage across the state from the Castro district to Guerneville. The killers had finally been apprehended after 8 days with the justice department's leaders being pressured politically through the entire time. The two killers did not go out easily; they fought law enforcement to the bitter end. After the final shootout, a manifesto was discovered in their car, along with numerous weapons and other equipment.

 

Mark heard about everything through the news. There was more outrage later, when the justice department uncovered where the source of the money for this equipment came from and how these two guys had been able to keep up their rampage with a state and federal dragnet on them. The three original guys had created a quasi-legal foundation called "The Lord's Crusaders", which had linked their foundation to various networks of religious and non-religious organizations. They were given money through a chain of separate non-profits and charities for the purposes of "clearing out" the homosexuals and abominations. The members of these groups were complicit in aiding them throughout their journey. The names of the source charities were not revealed to the public, but blogs and a few internet posters had a list up in days. It was a who's who of conservative and religious organizations or their subsidiaries. However, these were never verified by the state or federal government.

 

When Mark saw Gene next by his hospital bed during his usual visits, he had to know the truth.

 

"Gene you have to tell me, who was responsible for this?" Mark asked.

 

"Mark, my friends in the justice department showed me the links that they were drawing with the money, but it's all just supposition. There is no clear evidence to indict or the money trail went cold before they started this rampage. The names linked to these charities have been sealed off or were completely wiped out before we could get in; though, the FBI thinks they know the names, but they have no proof. We can't get any of these bastards legally," Gene told Mark with bitterness in his speech. Neither could speak for a long time, Dave entered the scene to check on Mark's condition.

 

"Mark, there's some good news; the doctor said that Brian is showing some movement again," Dave told his patient and friend. The long hours between Dave and Mark had blossomed into a friendship. Mark was 5 years beyond Dave's age, but it was pretty good for both to have a friend.

 

"Dave, I need to see him," Mark felt that he needed the emotional lift after the horrible truth that this crime may go unpunished. Dave could tell something had occurred between the old congressman and his son-in-law, which had visibly disturbed both.

 

Dave got the crutches ready for Mark, who had grown accustomed to them over his healing period. A fractured Patella or knee cap can heal easily over time with just modest casting in Mark's case. After Mark was ready for the trip, Dave led both Mark and Gene to a special recovery room, where Brian was being treated since the surgeries had proven successful to pull him out of the PICU.

 

Upon entering the area, Gene was instructed to change into hospital garments for sterilization purposes, so Mark went in with Dave first. Upon the sight of Brian, Mark gave a sigh of relief that his son did not display the same sad emotionless horror anymore. However, his son was displaying something equally depressing, fear. The attending doctor saw Mark, who he met days earlier during his surgical authorization and nodded.

 

"Your son clung onto life with courage and stamina that I rarely see in children his age. Mark, he will survive, but there are a couple things that you need to know," the doctor had directed all of them to exit the room.

 

"Doc, tell me, I've taken a lot of stuff so far; I am not afraid of the truth," Mark said, but he was afraid. He was afraid of a lot of things; he was afraid of raising his son without Steve around, he was afraid of being able to teach him about being good with evil people in the world, and he was afraid of his son hating him for not being there for him.

 

"Mark, the bullet that went through your son damaged a couple areas of his brain. It was a million dollar shot; there is no doubt about it, but it was not without issue. There are two areas affected, one long term and one short term. Long term issue, his temporal lobe region was hit in the area affecting visual processing; his vision is going to be impaired severely if not completely due to delays in reception. It is possible that the regions affected will eventually heal through neural bypass surgery, but we cannot do it until his brain has finished growth and adapting to his new surroundings. In the short term, his frontal lobe affecting motor control and hippocampus affecting certain semantic functions have also been affected as the bullet exited through the outskirts of the regions. He will not be able to control certain motions in his arms and legs for at least five years before his brain starts to adapt to the damage. His speech will be affected as well. When he leaves the hospital, we will prescribe you with some child size diapers and other things to help him with his adaption to these changes," the doctor told Mark with an empathetic and solemn tone. He really wished Mark had a better outcome; Brian looked like a sweet kid.

 

"You're telling me my son is retarded,' Mark screamed in anger, which Gene entering the hallway had heard.

 

"He's not retarded, Mark. His higher brain function are fine and please don't use that term so lightly; retardation is a serious problem," Dave scolded his friend. Mark felt idiotic for his burst of disdain; he was acting so irrational and he couldn't control himself. He knew about kids with mental handicaps and retardation, but he felt something in his mind just break, when he heard he would be changing his son out of diaper until he became a teenager. He also heard that his son will be slower in response time due to his vision damage. He could imagine what the kids will call him and all the mean taunts.

 

"I'm sorry Mark; there may be turnarounds in a few years if the new stem cell research lines are up and running. The Alzheimer drugs that they are researching might help your son recover faster," the doctor told Mark in hopes of lifting his spirits.

 

In Mark's mind, he was telling himself, "Those drugs would have been out now if it wasn't for those bastards; they did all this. They were the ones responsible for Steve's death. They were the ones that turned Brian into a blind baby."

 

Gene witnessed this and grew bitterer through Mark's suffering.

 

"Is there no justice in the world?" Gene thought.

 

The days passed and Mark was able to leave the hospital to return to his vacant home. He didn't spend much time there or at his office, where he delegated that his CFO be given temporary control for a period. He spent most of his time at the hospital with Brian, who was scarred by all the changes that he felt and needed his father by his side. He could barely speak without a slur or understand what he was seeing anymore, but the sound of his daddy's voice soothed him. His grandfather had also visited his grandson and son, giving them encouragement to fight on even in his crippled state.

 

Steve was embalmed and placed in a refrigeration unit for funeral after Brian well enough to attend. It would be a small service; family and friends were the only ones invited. Although, the President had his wishes to attend; Mark firmly rejected his offer as it would be too political. The casket would remain closed, because there was no real way to repair Steve's face even with the best techniques. As can be expected from such an affair, the more vocal members of certain religious groups voiced their own opinions outside the entire scene. Gene had asked for protection and Federal Marshalls along with state police were guarding the perimeter, but the sounds of anti-gay slurs could clearly be heard.

 

Mark was clearly disturbed and depressed at this along with his frightened son, Brian. Words can be scarier than actions after an action as horrendous as what had occurred to Mark and his family, so each slur and each rallying cry of "Death to Faggots" were not merely words.

 

After the funeral service, most friends and relatives left for their own homes with disturbing images of death on their minds. Gene, Mark, Brian, and Mr. Buchannan headed back to where this nightmare began.

 

The old vineyard no longer had the mystique of grandeur or beauty; it appeared colder and less welcoming. The housekeeper had spent much time trying to make the place as hospitable as possible, but it was no use. The soul of the home had gone. Gene and Mr. Buchannan were talking downstairs in the old reading room, while Mark was in Brian's room, helping his young son undress from his suit and slacks. Mark eyed a stain on Brian's diaper, which Brian had sadly noticed moments later.

 

"Dawd, you thunk I wull eva no ba bobie?" Brian tried to reason out if he would ever be the same again.

 

Mark's heart sank to its lowest level and tried to reassure his son in words, but he could not reassure himself. He was changing his son's diaper, which was equally humiliating exercise for both. Brian had long forgotten what a diaper was like and he thought he knew what his body was capable of. During the procedure, Brian kicked his dad twice in the stomach and slapped him a few times, which the little boy knew he didn't want to do. Mark understood it was not his son, but he wanted Brian to hit and hate him. His son deserved much better than this. Mark finished the torturous diaper change and turned on the TV for his son's entertainment. Mark left his son's room and headed downstairs to confront his fathers, who he could barely face.

 

"You think Mark would do that?" Gene said in a very empathetic tone.

 

"I would do what? What have you guys been saying behind my back?" Mark entered the old reading room with suspicion. He had thought in passing about sending Brian to a specialized facility to help him heal, but he quickly turned down that thought. How can he abandon his own son again? He did not want his son to go anywhere.

 

"Mark, it's not about Brian if that's what you are thinking. We were talking about doing something for Steve and everyone else that was killed by those monsters," Mark's dad told him with an affirming strength.

 

"Your old man must be dreaming; we can't possibly consider what he is proposing? This is not the old west; we can't take justice into our own hands," Gene responded.

 

"If you're saying what I think your saying dad, then Gene's right, we can't do it that way. We must be smarter than that," Mark told the two older men with a tone of action.

 

"Son, what do you have in mind?" Mr. Buchannan asked.

 

"If I go on gun-toting rampage across the country, what would that show the groups that did this to Steve, Brian, and all the other victims? Nothing, they will just use it to increase their rhetoric and fight even harder. We need to take them out smart and hard. I want them to know fear like I do; I want them to know that every second could be their last," Mark responded with surprised looks from both men.

 

"Mark, what's the difference between what you are proposing and what they are doing?" Gene asked.

 

"The difference is simple, I am acting in the name of justice; they are acting in the name of God. I think human justice should rule this world before their rules based on words from a thousand year old book," Mark spoke visibly with a dark anger in his heart.

 

"If you do this, I will support you, son" Mark's father said

 

"I will support you, too" Gene said

 

"Thanks, but now comes the hard part. I know how to shoot a gun, but I need to learn how to inspire fear. I am not going to be a DC sniper or a Timothy McVeigh; they were either marginal or one shot deals in fear. No, I want to inspire them to fear me without ever knowing I am near them," Mark said.

 

"You want to turn into Batman" Gene said in jest that was lost in the serious moment, "Mark, honestly, what you are describing is basically terrorism? Not just terrorism, it is actual war. This kind of thing is extreme. I don't want to see my remaining son sent to death row."

 

Gene had always considered Mark another son and he truly did not want him to go down this road. He wanted revenge for Steve's death, but not at the risk of another cherished life.

 

"Gene, I need guidance, if you do not want me to become another one of those names. In order to fight and win against an idea, I must eliminate their foundations. Fear is the best way to cause the idea to collapse," Mark replied to Gene.

 

"The best way to break someone is through truth. They've been using lies for so long; I think it's time to repay them in full," Mark's father told them.

 

"How can we use that though, dad?" Mark was perplexed.

 

"You know how Michael Corleone took care of killing the cop? His dad got the newspaper's to show the guy was corrupt asshole and people were not sympathetic to such a creep," Mark's father told his son.

 

"So, Citizen Kane, how do you expect to pull that off?" Mark asked

 

"I'll make you a defender of truth and justice; my company is linked with a massive telecommunication network and I know you have a few subsidiaries that can act as network intermediaries. The bloggers and internet community can spread information faster than anyone can quell them. We just use untraceable accounts and spread the news immediately upon their deaths," Mark's dad replied

 

"Just in case this little movie inspired secret revolution against these bastards fail, I think we should consider a 2nd option for a presidential pardon, just in case," Gene added

 

"How can you get a presidential pardon for what we are suggesting?" Mark was now wide eyed.

 

"Easy, most of the guys you're trying to take out are giving money to the other party," Gene smirked.

 

Everything is strange in life. Gene was honest to his word and through a combination of pressure or possibly extortion had the necessary weight for a secret presidential pardon made out for everyone involved. To be honest, many politicians feared these groups with intensity after the shocking attacks by The Lord's Crusaders; it was politically more convenient that Mark and his father had the ability to carry out this private war than they could through a real addressing of the issues at large. Even law enforcement pundits were quoted to say that "these acts, if not punished by us, will be punished by the American people."

 

In a matter of two weeks, Mr. Buchannan had moved back into his old home with the directed purpose to "help his son" and be closer to family. Under the guise of "Remodeling", Mark had contractors separately install new parts to the old home, including a private shooting range for specialized weapons, which was in name an archery range since assault type weapons were outlawed in the state, and expanded the gym with certain peculiarities.

 

Mark's father taught his son everything he knows about war, his experiences on urban combat, in-house fighting, and weapons.

 

Mark had to learn hand to hand combat separately through self defense classes, but he chose some one that would be sympathetic to his cause for the advanced training he needed in martial arts and discipline. Among those killed was the partner of a Japanese American man named Jodi Kurenai, who happened to hold a world title for martial arts. His partner and he were featured on a television report about the blending of different cultures. Jodi was a 2nd generation American of Japanese/German descent and his partner, James, was an all-American boy. They met, when they were teenagers and Jodi's uncle was teaching them Karate. It was a fad for James to go into Karate, but many other American boys had similar inclinations back in the 1980's. Just like Mark and Steve, their friendship grew into mutual attraction and they were married a few years earlier.

 

(***)

 

At age 15, Jodi had been training for weeks with this American boy, who had absolutely no Kiai or "fighting spirit". It was starting to infuriate him.

 

"Have you not even listened to my uncle, James?" Jodi said to the 13 year old boy.

 

"Hey it's not my fault, I can't turn on the chi or whatever like you, but I bet you that I will flip you over on this next one," James responded mockingly.

 

"Karate is about focusing your mind and soul into the punches; you can listen and learn how to fight, but if you do not put your soul into the fight, then you can never win," Jodi told James as James set up for another attack.

 

This time, James placed all his weight in his attack, but Jodi used the momentum to counter balance the move and took James down to the floor mat. James at this moment of defeat stared at Jodi. Then, James suddenly kissed Jodi passionately. Jodi was taken by surprise from the sudden rush of passion and he was off-guard for a moment, which gave James the reversal.

 

"Told you, I can flip you," James smiled at Jodi, who could not help, but feel good about this situation.

 

(***)

 

The event that separated these lovers was so simple. The couple was just walking on the street like they had done so many times before and suddenly shots were fired at them both from behind. Jodi survived, but his partner had not been so lucky. Jodi could not bring himself to go to his partner's funeral, feeling that he had been slow in helping James dodge the oncoming bullets. When Mark approached Jodi in his apartment, Jodi knew instantly what Mark wanted.

 

"Your name is Mark; I saw your face in the news. I know what you want and if it is aid for revenge, you don't even have to ask. I just want one thing; I want to join you to redeem myself," Jodi told Mark as they were both seated in Jodi's apartment. Mark accepted Jodi's request and Jodi publicly took the role of Mark's bodyguard, but privately he would be his sensei in hand to hand combat. Mark also taught him how to aim and shoot a gun, so both we're equally student and master in their own fields.

 

Mark's father enjoyed talking with Jodi about their various interpretations on fighting and moral combat. Mark's father had fought in the Asian wars with very little understanding of why the other side was fighting like they did, so he was curious as to Jodi's perspective. He also wanted to know what Jodi thought of Mark's fight.

 

"What motivates someone to fight?" Mr. Buchannan asked Jodi one day, while Mark was upstairs checking and changing Brian.

 

"The will to fight is personal, if you do not have that will to fight, then it never shall start. A conflict begins with one side feeling they have a cause for conflict. In order to right a wrong, the conflict would begin," Jodi said

 

"What do you think of my son's fight? Would you say it is right?" Mr. Buchannan asked

 

"Mark fights for his lost lover, he fights for his injured son, and he fights for all the injured by these monsters. In comparison to him, I merely stand as a man wanting vengeance for my lover; he wants to right the wrongs and unveil the shadows into the light," Jodi replied succinctly to Mr. Buchannan.

 

Mark's father was impressed and felt the man would be a great asset to their cause. A clear and logical tactician, who knows how to fight and understands why they fight, was absolutely needed.

 

During their months of training, Mr. Buchannan and Mark had begun their plans by gathering a list from the FBI targets provided by Gene. These were supposedly the people involved in the non-profits and charities that gave The Lord's Crusaders the money and logistical support for their attacks. The names went from average day Americans to multi-billionaire televangelists. Mr. Buchannan suggested a middle tier approach to taking out these guys before moving up to the top leaders, who may be more guarded later on due to death of the middle tier organizers, but the early attacks on organizers would weaken their organizations roots.

 

Reverend Alexander Lewis was the first one on their list. He was located in Tucson, Arizona. He was your quintessential homophobic priest with embezzlement accusations that could never go to trial due to weak testimony and equally weak parishioners, who did not believe this kind old man, could be capable of such evil. He drew a lot of support from the Southwestern Baptist Alliance and his bridging of suburban communities with high income earners were essential to one of the charities giving money to The Lord's Crusaders.

 

For their first mission, Mark and Jodi used a plain silver Toyota with a fake New Mexico plate. They took a satellite link computer with built in webcam, which had a scrambled signature IP and utilized a backdoor hack into one of Mark's corporate satellites for internet access. A motel about thirty miles from town was set up as their main base of operations. It was a cash only motel, so no one would have any electronic signatures of them being there. Additionally, both were extremely careful about hair, fingerprints, or skin fragments that might identify their identities. Lucky there was Axe, because three days without a shower under the Arizona sun would make anyone look at them twice.

 

Mark followed Rev. Lewis around for a few days alternating on the 2nd day with Jodi. They had analyzed Lewis' route everyday and came up with a plan to expose him and kill him at the same time.

 

(Rev. Lewis)

 

Lewis had a daily routine that he kept: breakfast at home, go to church to answer or make a few calls, lunch at a diner, back to church for some more calls, and leave for home around seven after everyone else has left. He did not leave earlier like others working at the church. He said he was communing with God during that hour between his worldly duties, which impressed most of his flock.

 

In actuality, between six and seven, he was adjusting funds in the church's accounts and balancing out the books to make it appear that no money had gone missing. He was very meticulous; even a trained forensic auditor would not be able to tell the truth without knowing what to look for.

 

During this "late" day communion with God, he was silently working in his office tabulating a few more dollars into one of his offshore accounts. There was a sudden call on his cell phone, which he knew was likely his wife as usual about their dinner plans. He checked the number display as that of his home, so he felt certain.

 

"Miranda, you keep the roast warm, I'll be coming home for supper," Rev. Lewis said.

 

"I know what you are doing Reverend" a strange voice was heard.

 

"Who is this? How did you get my home number?" Rev. Lewis spoke with fear in his mind.

 

"I am here to pass judgment on you for your crimes!" the voice said before hanging up.

 

The Reverend was spooked by this strange voice and the stranger issue of his home phone number being displayed. He felt uncomfortable in his office and looked around the empty church. He saw no one in the pews and he turned to re-enter his office, but his phone began to ring again, which frightened him some more. He stared above him at the divine cross, which he had pledged fealty towards. He saw his own home number and answered the phone again.

 

"Miranda is that you?" Rev. Lewis asked in fear.

 

"You are facing your god, why not repent now before it is too late?" the strange voice told him.

 

"Listen you, I don't care if you're a prank caller or the real Jesus Christ come to life; I am not afraid of you. You can't get me; I got money and influence," Rev. Lewis said.

 

"You used your influence to steal from parishioners and feed money into a corrupt organization that killed innocent people, your judgment shall come!" the voice echoed and Rev. Lewis turned off his cell phone.

 

Fear had gripped this old man; no one who had wronged others can ever go through life without a small trace of fear. Today, those small traces had become giant stones ready to be thrown at him as he had onto others.

 

Lewis in fear decided to end his day early after all and head home to safety. He was locking the church's doors, when an assailant attacked him and knocked him out. When he awoke; he felt his hands were bound and he could not see.

 

"Who's there?" Rev. Lewis asked.

 

"Your judge" the voice said.

 

"I did nothing wrong; you can't prove anything" Rev. Lewis spurned.

 

"You left your crooked books unfinished, your computer files were not deleted today, and you were extremely sloppy with hiding all your illegal activities without ending the internet trace on your offshore accounts," the voice said.

 

"Shit!" Rev. Lewis said in fear.

 

"Now, you know to fear justice, but where was that fear when you butchered innocent lives and used your power to steal for your personal sake," the voice said.

 

"Even if you are God, I got nothing to say to you. You're the one that drove me to this with greed and all those other things that people have. You really want to know something, if there was no reason for greed or power, there would never be a reason for you either," Rev. Lewis contempt was now at its zenith.

 

"You have revealed your total contempt for justice; now, I sentence you to death in a way befitting a thief," the voice said.

 

A meat cleaver was preparing to drop on one of Rev. Lewis' hands. It connected and Lewis' pain was excruciating as he could feel, but not see his hand severed from his body due to a blindfold. Then, his other hand was also severed in the same gruesome manner. The pain and the sudden blood loss were extreme. Lewis screamed curses and hate filled words onto everything.

 

The voice made one last remark, "For those that dare to use power and influence to harm others; your fate shall be as severe as his. You may curse us as you might, but Justice shall be made whole."

 

Lewis was left there bleeding in agony before a single shot went through his head.

 

(One week later)

 

The internet video of Rev. Lewis execution and the subsequent discovery of his fraud had riveted the news to no end. The bloggers with aid from Mark and his father had delivered the stunning revelations first and the truth of the man's evil had spread throughout the world. The media confirmation only cemented the truth that was established.

 

The police were unable to follow the track of the killer with eyewitnesses giving mixed testimony of different people that they thought were suspicious from black males to Hispanics. There was no bullet fragment found during the autopsy, which would mean a high caliber military issued weapon was used and the shot was perfectly accurate to allow a straight penetration of the skull without leaving much evidence or residue. The mysterious internet video of the execution could not be traced to any source and internet professional were baffled as to how it could be done. The people at large gave the killer a nickname befitting an urban hero;"The Justice Seeker".

 

Prior members of the Reverend's congregation, who supported him through all the accusations, finally realized the truth after overwhelming evidence. They left for other churches and tried to think that they just had bad luck.

 

Mark was home tending to Brian, who was undergoing some home therapy with a nurse hired by Mark. Dave had volunteered to be Brian's nurse and wanted to help out Mark, who in turn helped Dave pay for his college tuition to become a real doctor.

 

Jodi was also living in a guest room within Mark's home, which would suit them better for future strategy sessions and allow both to practice with the other's skill. Jodi still feel that he has not redeemed his failure for James as of yet, but after Rev. Lewis' execution, he felt that he was getting closer.

 

Mark's father had taken to his old home with a strange feeling of joy. He enjoyed playing with his grandson Brian in his wheelchair and going to the "Archery Range" to test out the new additions to Mark's Arsenal, which he had covertly purchased through a deal with a military contractor he owned.

 

Gene was back in Washington with a few members in the upper echelons in the government secretly giving him a pat on the back for a job well done. In ancient Rome, a senator could order an assassination of a powerful plebian, who was sided with the opposing faction, with impunity. It looks like the tradition kept up after two thousand years.

 

When Gene got back during weekends to visit his family, he would always give them a toast on a job well done. He might also suggest jokingly a new target.

 

"Guys, you know you might want to consider taking out Fred Phelps; he has been asking for a bullet and I think he's been sleeping with one of his daughters," Gene said one time.

 

"I think we don't really have to kill him; the American people have been burning him in effigy for the last decade," Mark remarked with humor.

 

Vengeance has begun in hopes to right a horrible wrong, Can such vengeance ever last on principles like these?