Evil Ain't My Thing

“On the account of terroristic acts under duress, how does the defendant find?” The voice faded into existence as Vincent looked up from his shined shoes. The courtroom finally blurred together, before the little details sharpened. He could point out exactly how many loose threads his attorney had on the blouse she wore. It was five. All across her back where you couldn’t exactly reach to pull them. I wonder if she knows. Should I tell her? He thought, opening his mouth to say something, but was interrupted.
“Mister Stryker. Your plea?” The judge gestured for him to continue.
“... Not guilty, your honor.” He replied meekly. Murmurs could follow the reply. Distrust, disgust, and anything else that he felt was dissing him and his reputation as a human being.
“The people request bail to be set at $15,000 and to have him sentenced to house arrest pending trial. Court adjourned.” The judge quickly banged her gavel against the podium, as the murmur of the crowd raised a few notches. Vincent was quickly pulled away towards one of the doors by the police officer, whose grip on his upper arm felt like a bear trap. Only growing tighter with no sense of loosening in the near future.
He was physically dragged outside of the courthouse, where the sun burned Vincent’s eyes to the point of tears. Overwhelmed by the sense of temporary blindness, his hearing was filled with words full of anger and bite.
“Villain scum!”
“You had my daughter killed!”
“How could you!”
“Your parents should be ashamed!”
It was all true. He was a monster, even if he didn’t want to be. Seeing all of these people, and all of the anger and sadness he’s caused… Could bring anyone to tears. He tried to say something, anything… But his voice wasn’t working. I’m sorry! I’ve hurt so many! I-i didn’t mean to! He wanted to shout it from every rooftop, announce it to the world, but all that would come out of his mouth was a choking noise.
“C’mon. We have to meet your mother down at the station.” The police officer pulled him away from the crowd, carelessly shoving him into the back of the cop car. Once that door closed, Vincent finally felt just how real the situation was. How heavy the guilt now on his chest, wrapping tighter, and tighter around his throat.

***

One week later: Albine Courthouse Part 1

“So, you said you were…" The lawyer flipped through a small folder. “10 years of age in the police statement, correct?”
“Correct," Vincent replied, shifting in the seat he was in, on the witness stand.
“Can you tell us a little more about the day you first met these people?”
Vincent nodded, as he cleared his throat, dropping his gaze briefly to his hands. “Yeah. It all started on the first day of school…”



“Vincent, make sure you let me know when you get off from school! Have a great first day!” Nicole Stryker called with a smile lacing her words, as she watched Vincent exit the car with a huff.
“Mom, I know. And don’t work too hard.” He waved, leaning through the unrolled window of the smaller silver van, to kiss her cheek before he dashed forward towards the entrance of the school building, waving frantically towards the van that began to pull forward. “Bye, mom! I love you!” He shouted, to which he had gotten a muffled response.
Entering the school building, took more willpower than anything Vincent had ever done. New school, with new crowds, and new teachers. That thought alone made his hands tremble. He could only think of wanting to go back home. To unpack, and stay at home with some tv on. He almost turned back, almost started walking home, but he was caught by one of the teachers, who called out to him. It was too late now. He was caught red-handed trying to escape.
Vincent only sighed deeply, turning around to face the door. “Come along now, you’re late.” The teacher chided, gently laying a hand on his shoulder, though the grip was strong enough to keep him from escaping easily. “Let’s get you to a class young man. Your teacher must be w-”
“I’m new!” Vincent interrupted quickly, before slamming his hands against his mouth, to silence any sort of protests he may have. Oh no! She knows now! I can’t leave! No escape! His thoughts were racing as the teacher’s mouth made a small ‘o’ shape.
“Well, why didn’t you just say so! The principal said we were going to be receiving a new student. You must be him. We had gotten a letter about your arrival." She explained at the confused look Vincent gave her. Before he could ask any more questions, they arrived at their destination. The office seemed to loom over young Vincent, seeming to grow stories and stories tall, slicing through any thought of running away. Vincent was rooted to the spot, petrified on what may lurk in the shadows of the office. Too many people! Get out of there! Go go go go go g-
Vincent was now on the final boss level, with enemies nearby. The principle would destroy him, while the other teachers would finish him off, and he would fail his mission of running away. He could hear the boss music now as he was uprooted from the middle of the hallway with the iron grip, claws digging into his shoulder, ruining his chance for escape. His instincts kicked in, knocking his knees out from underneath himself. “Miss, I’m not feeling good… Can I go home?” At this point, he was a ragdoll in her arms. She audibly clicked her tongue, her patience dwindling.
“I’m sorry dear, but you must see the principle now. Then you have to go to class and learn something.” Her words were clipped, the edge lost between clenched teeth. She showed visible effort in dragging Vincent towards the doorway.
He caught sight of a man, in a suit that had not one speck of dust out of place. Pressed cleanly, with a deep purple tie, tied in loops and swirls. Too many for Vincent to track with his eyes. Where one started, another part of the tie leaped over, crossing under another. Vincent could only believe that this man tied multiple ties together because there is no way that there was enough tie for that knot and extra left. He saw the man talking, but at the moment, he felt his hands grow cold, and his ears began ringing. The principle was a heavy-set man, and every time he moved his arms up, the seams stretched too thin. One wrong move and this man’s jacket would turn into a vest. Vincent was shaken out of his daze when the man’s hand replaced the iron claw of the other teacher.
“You must be Vincent. Come in, come in. There’s nothing to worry about.” The man spoke in a gruff tone as if he had just gotten finished having a screaming fest with a baby. Vincent could only nod, as he followed the principle into the dark ominous office, into one of the cushioned seats that groaned underneath the addition of weight.
Hearing the door closed was similar to a gunshot, firing at Vincent’s freedom. No escape! This man locked me in here! His thoughts were racing, as the alarms in his head began flashing, with sirens included. His thoughts were a mess, to the point where he could hardly remember what happened in that office. All systems were now on autopilot, and his blank stare pointed towards the most interesting thing in the world: a small desk toy that swayed back and forth, back and forth, luring Vincent deeper into his panicked trance.

The bell rang, causing Vincent to blink away tears from his irritated eyes. Coming out of his haze, he glanced around, his eyes landing on objects he doesn’t remember seeing in the principal's office. Tables, more than plenty of enough chairs, a white-board in the front of the room... With a teacher erasing a math problem. Students flocked around the coat racks, chatting quite loudly. This wasn't the office. No, this was his classroom, and he missed his own first day.
“Vincent, glad you can be with us at the end of the day. I’ll send you home with some homework.” The teacher said. What was her name? It started with… Oh no, I forgot my teacher’s name! I’m the worst! How did I just forget her name! She knows my name, but I don’t know her’s! How can she remember my name? The teacher walked to her desk, grabbing a sheet of paper from a neat stack. “I’m sure you can ask your mom for help. You two seem like a very smart pair.” She joked, setting the science worksheet down on his desk.
“Uh, thanks, Miss…”
“Call me Mrs.L.”
As quickly as he could, he thanked Mrs.L, before gathering up his own things. Today, was not the best first days, but it could’ve gone worse. At least he remembered to come to school dressed, and with a backpack. Before the day could get any worse, he gathered up his things and bolted out towards the door.
Feeling the wave of cold air hit his face as he slammed through the door, felt like needles against his lungs, leaving him to feel tingly, and full of relief. Finally, he was homeward bound. Finally, his day was over. Finally…
He wove through the crowd, dodging the children who lingered on the playground, waiting for their parents to pick them up. He began his journey alone, focusing more on the sights to see, than what was in front of him. He passed by the old library with the lions in front of it, and the small bank, with lights inside as big as the moon. He passed by the bakery and was hypnotized by the sweet smell, followed immediately by the warmth. He passed by a small group of squirrels, who darted up the tree and-
CRASH!
Vincent was pulled from his thoughts after hearing the commotion. He stood at the mouth of an alley, next to two apartment buildings, and stared, taking a few steps forward.
“Hello?” He called out, to which a lady responded, in a gruff tone:
“You shouldn’t be here kid.” Two silhouettes joined the voice, moving too fast for Vincent to track with his eyes. One moment, he was turning to flee the alleyway. The next, he felt steel, around his arms, shoving him to the ground. “Take him. He’s good hostage material.” Vincent heard, before he felt cloth around his eyes, and could taste fuzz. Why does it smell so… Sweet? Before Vincent could ask, black spots filled his vision. He hated to ask, but he really wanted to know; What is a hostage? He tried to open his mouth to ask, but he couldn’t exactly feel his jaw. As if, it wasn’t there at all. He panicked, squirming like a spider who was evading his death and tried to reach for his jaw. Only, the black spots finally caught up with him, and all he could do is to accept it. To feel his body relax, as the question died upon his cloth covered lips.


White filled his vision as Vincent slowly came back to reality. Reaching up, he tried to rub at his eye, only to realize he was tied up. No escape! They got you! Should’ve just kept walking! He opened his mouth to yell, to say anything, but all that came out was muffled gibberish. No one would be able to understand him like this! He struggled, and twisted, only feeling the restraints biting at his pale skin, until the pale white darkened. Until it was the color of spilled wine against the soft linen tablecloths. He struggled, until he felt hands in his brown hair, grabbing a fistful before it yanked his head back.
“I warned you, didn’t I. You are ours now. You work for us, and one word of disagreement; I’ll slit your throat.” The voice said as it pulled Vincent’s head up, causing him to see the figure. The form seemed to shimmer in the light, morphing and changing every time there was a shift. As if… The figure wasn’t there. “I’ll lay down the ground rules for you boy,” the voice spat, “You will tell not one soul about what goes on here. No one. You will follow my orders and my team’s orders. If you disobey, there will be punishment.”
Vincent swallowed hard, his legs shaking. Punished?! PUNISHED?!? His mind mulled over the thoughts of punishment, leaving himself distracted enough not to notice two other figures joining the first.
“You’re perfect. We’ll be sure to take care of you real good.”
He would scream, but all that filled the building were cotton filled screams, and muffled sobs. This was it. There was no saving him. The only thing he could see out of tear-blurred vision was the fading figures and that cursed smile. A smile that was a little too wide, with overly straight teeth. A smile that belonged on a magazine cover, not here where he was the only one to admire it.

***

The courtroom all seemed to shift in unison as Vincent finished up. The attorney for the other side, as he distinctly remembered, cleared his throat and brought out a few photos. “I present to the court, exhibit A, through D. Traffic cameras at the cross-streets of Washat and Schumer. Dated December 19th, 2014. Two years before today.” The attorney laid the photos in front of Vincent. Grainy, but discernible. Three figures stood in front of the building, holding various canvas bags. “Taken at 8:42 Monday morning, in front of the Austrian Embassy. Mister Stryker, what was in those bags?”
Vincent hesitated, sitting back on the chair. He knew he would be asked about this day. This day, and all of the other days where he made his crimes public. “Mister Stryker, your answer.” The judge was quick to say, noting the hesitation that was clear in his body language.
“...The bag was filled with weapons.”
“What kind of weapons?” The attorney was quick to answer back.
“Guns. Knives. Anything we could get our hands on.”
“Guns. Did you carry any explosions? Any type of bomb?”
Vincent buried his head quickly in his hands, giving a quick nod. “Y-yes. The other one, Fox, carried the device.”
“Fox. Do you know his real name?”
“No. He would never tell me.”
The attorney tsked softly, motioning for the guards, to bring in the television. “This is the footage we could recover from building security.” He played the video that was loaded up, grainy, colorful, and there. The angle showed Vincent, Fox, and Abby walking inside, seeming to walk past the guards as if they weren’t there. Vincent remembered that day. The screaming. The running. But mostly, he remembered the tears. The cries for help as they passed by….
“Mister Stryker.” The attorney snapped, severing the memory behind Vincent’s eyes. “Answer the question.”
“Uh… I’m sorry. I-i didn’t hear the question.” Vincent replied, as if he was a student, being violently pulled from his daydreams. This earned him a murmur from the crowd and a sigh from the attorney.
“Of course you didn’t. Fine, I’ll repeat the question. What did you do on that day?”
That day… Why are they so interested in that day? Why not, a different day? Tuesday was a pretty interesting day… Or Wednesday, when I found that cat…
With a heavy sigh, Vincent placed his head once more in his hands. “What I did… I can never forgive myself for…” His words choked himself up, causing an impassable lump to form in his throat.
“Your honor, can we have a recess?” The other lawyer, my lawyer he reminded himself, stood up, noticing how shakey Vincent sat on the stand.
“Fine. The court will break, and will resume Monday morning.”

***
Two months later, February 12th, 2017 Albine Courthouse Part 27

“So, you were threatened to commit these crimes? Why didn’t you report that you were in danger?” The attorney, Markus asked Vincent taking a step towards the stack of papers on the table. Evidence. Against me.
“They were going to kill my family. Fox could look like anyone. He had eyes everywhere. One word about this, and I risked losing my family.” Vincent tried to defend himself, before shakily sighing. The evidence pointed against him. Him and the countless crimes he’s committed.
“No further questions,” Markus replied, fixing the loose button on his suit before taking a seat. His own attorney rose from her seat, with what sounded like an exhausted huff.
“Vincent. You said that they threatened your family. Is that how you worked for them willingly?” She asked, holding her own folder of documents and papers.
Vincent nodded in response, his hands finding their way to the hem of the suit he himself wore. “Yes. They would kill them if I didn’t cooperate.”
“Was there any task you didn’t complete? Any mission you may not have done?”
Again, Vincent nodded. He dared not to make eye contact with anyone in the courthouse. He couldn’t look at his mother and see the disappointment in her eyes, or the jury and their steely gaze, revealing nothing about their emotions towards his crimes.
“Care to enlighten us?”
Unwillingly, the memories came crashing back, like waves against a rocky shore. Chaotic and unruly.

***

“I. Asked. You. One simple task. Kill. Leave no survivors! And you go, and EVACUATE?! Against my orders!” Fox screamed, towards the occupied space, which merely spat a red colored saliva.
“Your orders left hundreds dead.” Vincent, the occupied space, growled, lifting his bloodied head up, to stare at the mask covered face, he’s grown to know as Fox. Fox was not happy with the answer. Who would? Disobeying a direct order… Not something you get off the hook for doing. Vincent thought as Fox swung his leg, making direct contact with the exposed gut with a sickeningly satisfying thud. Vincent could do nothing but double over in a coughing fit.
“Defy me again, and it won’t be you there,” Fox growled out the threat as if he was a tiger, teasing his wounded prey with another attack.
Vincent didn’t have enough air for a snarky remark. He only bowed his head in a sign of weakness, waiting for those ever so spotless shoes that Fox wore, was out of sight.

***

“So by disobeying, you were being punished, correct?” Laura asked, watching Vincent with care.
“I have scars… I have proof!” Vincent quickly stood up, fumbling for his buttons. They need evidence! I have that! I have the proof!
“N-no! That will be quite okay. Please take a seat. I’m sure,” she cleared her throat, sorting through yet another set of photos. “We have our own set of photos. Please, relax.” he chided. Vincent nodded, slowly sitting back down with cheeks bright red.
“S-sorry about this… Just… Eager to help.”
“Yes. I’m sure anyone would be eager to prove their innocence.” She replied, pulling out a few sets of photos. Each was of Vincent, with various types of wounds and old healed scars littering his body. “These were taken hours after Vincent was picked up by police on November 13th. Were you punished a lot, Vincent?”
“Y-yes. There were times where I couldn’t…” He buried his face in his hands. “I couldn’t do the things they asked me. I couldn’t be bad..” With shaky hands, Vincent straightened his perfectly styled hair, until it was rough. Fluffy.

***

March 10th, 2017 Albine Courthouse Part 32

“Do we have a verdict?” The judge, Her name… Sarah, I think. Or, was it Gina? Asked, her voice cutting through the heavy silence of the courtroom. One of the jurors stood up, holding a piece of paper.
“Yes, your honor. On the account of terroristic acts under duress, we find the defendant…”
At that moment, Vincent’s hearing seemed to fade. The words became jumbled, muffled… All he could register was Laura’s hand on his back, and Markus approaching them.
“...Okay? Vincent? Hello?” Laura’s voice sliced through his thoughts.
“What was the verdict?” He asked voice brimming with anxiousness sprinkled with a hint of sadness. “I-i didn’t hear it.”
“Oh.. Guilty. They deemed you guilty. You'll be sent off to prison. Sentence of 15 years because you had to comply and were forced to do what you did. I’m sorry…”
Guilty… The word hit him hard in the gut. To the point where he brought Laura into a hug. Tears blurred his vision so much, he had to squeeze his eyes shut. Guilty… But was he really going to be classified as a villain for the rest of his life? Was he ever a villain at all?


Fin.