(Don't) Aim For The Head

Part 1 - 1 - The Apocalypse

Chapter 1

The smell of acrid smoke and ash took over every one of my senses. It became me, my everything, all we've ever known in this world. It was in ruins. It was all wrecked, destroyed, utterly. Could we do anything about it...? Anything at all, besides running? Hell, we couldn't even run. Some were faster than us. I don't know how, but some were faster.

Did I feel despair, when I looked out upon the view of the vast, grey, tarnished city? Still burning in some places, as though the apocalypse were making sure to hit everything twice? No... No, I can't say I did. I felt my lips twist, in what may perhaps have been confusion and curiosity. How did it come to this? Why did it come to this?

Questions.

All we had were bloody questions.

"We can't linger," One of my companions stated, in exasperated panic. There was certainly despair in her voice. Was it wrong of me to think her weak? "C'mon, we've gotta go, we've gotta... Oh my God..."

"Go where?!" Another whined, giving in to their stress and borderline yelling. I myself took a steadying breath, filling my lungs with that burning ash, and opened my mouth as though to answer... But no answer came. That was a good question. Go where?

Questions.

That's all we had. Blood and bloody questions.

A Few Days Prior...

The sounds of grunts, moans, and pleas for help filled my ears, and put a small smile upon my lips. I knew those grunts and moans very well, and whilst I usually had little to do with them, they were a particular cause of my badmouthing today. I opened my eyes, just to take a peak from where I stood, leaning up against the school building in a dark alleyway, where all the bins were kept.

Ah, there they were, my army of flies. If three was an army, that is. All surrounding the young, helpless Arthur Wayward; cradled in the fetal position and letting off those hoarse grunts and yelps of pain as he received kick after kick, punch after punch. The three got either bored, or tired after a good thirty seconds more of this, and all stepped away from the boy: now in silent tears, who couldn't seem to pick himself up.

The three, bearing smirks, shook themselves off and stepped back up to me, shooting the younger, shorter boy a few seething glares, as he shakily picked himself up and grabbed his bag. As he lifted his head up, meeting my eyes with that bruised, battered face of his, he rubbed his nose, but recoiled from his own hand, as though his nose were in too much pain to touch. He looked like he wanted to ask me 'why'? Not that he did. I put on my best cruel smirk, taking a step towards him and stamping a foot, in a move that really ought not be that intimidating. It worked wonders, however, in making the boy yelp and scurry off.

"You're cold, man," One of my three stooges; Andrew, laughed, as he crossed his arms and leaned up against the wall next to me.

"Am I...?" I asked, watching as the boy ran off out of the alleyway, knocking into a group of girls, some of whom recoiled in surprise and tried to ask if he was alright, the others seemingly disgusted at the sight of either him, or the blood, "I'm not the one who beat him halfway to hell."

"You were chattin' s**t about him all day!" Another laughed. This one was Jackson, the only one of our little group with any actual piercings. And rather disgusting ones at that, if you ask for my opinion. Tongue rings looked fine and all, but the number of bacteria they manifested was sickening. It flashed as he talked, "And you didn't say anything when we dragged him over here and started! Just stood there and smirked."

"I'm good at smirking." I pointed out, pulling out one of my two phones; the touchscreen one for this moment, and huffing some of the long blonde hair out of my eyes to actually see the screen. Boys with hair as long as mine weren't exactly common in this school, and somehow I; one of the few who did, found myself allied and comfortable amongst some of the school's most notorious bullies.

"You are good at smirking," Contributed Marv, much to my amusement. He rarely contributed to anything. Hell, he may've even been kicking Arthur with half the effort, "But that's because you do literally nothing else. You're either smirking, or you're stone faced."

The other two gave off slight chuckles, as I tilted my head and quickly wiped the smirk off of my face, eyes glued to the phone. I tried to get my expression neutral. Apparently I failed.

"Like right now!" He exclaimed, pointing at my face briefly, "Stone cold!"

"Oh my God, shut up," I sighed, going straight to the news after having checked how much battery I had left. About 26%. I made a mental note to charge the thing when I got back home.

"Winter doesn't need to join in, that smirk of his is good enough. He's our mascot, ain't you Winter?" Andrew teased, bringing an eye roll out of me. True, I rarely contributed to any of the actual fighting. And why should I? The guys knew I had a reputation to uphold, what with my family being... Who they were. And they respected that well enough. Hell, I'd throttle them if they didn't. The only viable reason they'd had for originally wanting to be my friends was my family's money. They thought I didn't know, but it was the only logical reason they'd stick around me. The fact that I'd supported their acts of violence, really, was the icing atop the cake.

They needed me. So, why did I need them? Simply put, I didn't. But they were interesting. They rarely pressed me for conversation, they were always hyperbolic and over-the-top, and perhaps best of all... Their presence was the closest thing I could get to relieving boredom. When anyone looked upon this little group of mine, I'd look the odd one out; my face was very close to being feminine, and my hair did not help to distinguish. I always wore blazers and formal wear, with proper button-up shirts.

These guys, Andrew, Marv and Jackson, could not have been more of a polar opposite. Regular shirts and jeans, boyishly short hair, and the occasional bruise or cut marring their faces. And yet, I had them all wrapped around my finger. It started off with their little fetish for money that made them want to follow me around. I'd select a target, offer that we kick the living hell out of said target, and let 'em keep the cash. But little by little, It became less about the money, and more about the submission. The loyalty.

When we first met, they were sure they had me fooled. That they, seeking my wealth, had me thinking we were 'friends'. How well and easily I'd turned the tables. All I had to do was keep offering them more and more violence, more low-key appeal and charisma. Now, for better or for worse, they were dogs. Doggos. Doggerinos. Woof-woofs, whatever you want to call them.

Point being - they were mine, and they didn't even know it.

"Oh, he's gone quiet again. Doesn't like the sound of 'mascot'," Andrew hummed, noticing my silence. Choosing to give them only 10% of my attention, I checked out the local news, mind already somewhere else. Mother always said that when you get to adulthood and have responsibilities as great as hers -mine, in future- you'll have to keep an eye on it frequently. Hardly anything in the news ever interested me, but what can you do? At least it was more eventful than this damn school.

"Oh yeah, he's definitely gone," Andrew agreed.

"Guys, lets get going. Don't know if Arthur snitched or not, and I'd rather not take the risk of staying around here in case someone comes snooping. Don't wanna soil Winter's rep, do we?" He asked, sounding almost snobbish. There was a sincerity under that snobbishness, that brought the others to nod their heads or chime in agreement. I was way ahead of them, There. Eyes still glued to my phone, I lead the way out.

They continued talking and conversing behind me as we crossed the school grounds, sharing a laugh on occasion. I didn't join in, and instead blankly stared through my phone, at all the lead articles. They'd been the same for a week. All about some illness that's been spreading through Eastern Europe and Russia. Apparently there're now signs of it in America. A part of me felt something equivalent to relief when I first saw one of these articles; relief that my mother and I had moved to America after the accident. She had to be away from time to time, sure, to manage the company, but... Being alone gave me time to mess around and entertain myself.

School wasn't as big of a problem as it used to be... After the accident, all those subjects, from maths to science, they'd all become so... Frustratingly easy to understand. English Language and Literature were still oddly variegating subjects for me, what with the need to write essays rather than straightforward answers, but I was managing. To think I used to do so much worse... Jumped from Cs and Ds to As, As, and even more As.

That accident... Maybe it gave me a good shock. Maybe it was just coincidental... Just me, getting myself together. Maybe. I wasn't sure. But either way, America wasn't that bad. The death of a father, no uncommon 'sorrow', was a small price to pay. Hell, I'd pay it again.

I skipped past all the articles that were, by now, carbon copies of one another, and went straight for the politics. Oh boy. Nope, even these were all about the infection. I couldn't quite understand what all the hassle was. Apparently, all the infection did was that; infect. It made some people developed a rash, maybe a dry throat, but that really seemed to be it.

My dogs' laughter echoed in the back of my mind, as I read on and on. In a way, it ought to have been unsettling. I just couldn't find it in me to be unsettled.

I pouted, when I found an article that read something about airports shutting down in Poland, Ukraine, the Czech Republic and Russia. I didn't read into it, merely looking at what the title specified. It was a bit ambiguous. And unbelievable. The air transport business was an extremely wealthy one. For entire countries to just shut them down... Maybe it would've been more specific if I'd read into it, but I wasn't bothered.

Perhaps this whole thing was worse than I could've imagined? I shook off my trepidation, and finally found an article that had nothing to do with the infection. Oh, great. The United Nations global climate meetings. Come to think of it, would news of wherever and however this one ends even affect the company I was the heir to; the Townsend Pharmaceutical Company? Likely not. Manufacturing of drugs and skincare products hardly affected the environment. At least, not enough to suffer losses at the climate meetings. Though maybe the subsidiaries would feel a hit-

Just as I thought so, halfway through the article, I noticed my dogs mumble amused 'uh oh's and release chuckles, as I saw them all halt in the very edge of my peripheral vision. I blinked, stopping along with them, though standing a little in front. We were a little way outside the school by now, with students leaving along with us. There were fewer now, what with it being at least an hour after the end of the day, so most students around us were leaving after having gone to their clubs. One such group of students was the reason we'd stopped.

I put my phone into one of my internal pockets, unable to suppress a smirk, as I gazed upon the group of five – two boys, three girls. Wait... Make that three boys as well. I noticed the shortest one a little too late. One of the boys, clad in a rock star-type leather jacket, hair tucked behind his ears, was bending down to the bruised-up Arthur; who was trying hard to look away. He, of course, was the mentioned 'shortest one' I hadn't noticed. The others were looking fairly concerned for him. As we'd approached and stopped, all their heads turned to us, before they exchanged looks with one another in mutual understanding and alarm.

One of them wasn't having it though. Simon; the boy with the leather jacket; an old friend of a sorts, got up, mumbling for Arthur to get behind him... Which the shorter boy awkwardly did, before Simon began growling and meeting my eyes "What the hell do you want? Looking for something that isn't yours?"

I almost scoffed. Almost. That was very close to being funny, if it weren't such an obscenely stupid question. I responded as appropriate, after giving his friends a once-over. The Artists club, of course. I recognised all of them, but besides Simon I knew only one of the others' names. One of the girls, with blue-dyed hair and a few paint stains on the front of her shirt, by the name of Katie. She fixed me with a glare, fit for Medusa. How would I have handled this a year ago...? Would I have shuddered, bent my head down and moved on? No... Because I wouldn't even be in this position if I were the me from a year ago.

"Well, I'm looking for my house. Actually, It... Isn't exactly mine, but I do keep all my belongings in there. Maybe you've seen it? It's somewhere down this road," I answered, pointing out the obvious, indicating to the pavement I was walking on and tracing it down towards their direction.

"Hilarious," One of the other girls stated, with crossed arms and a frown. She was the tallest of the lot, with waist-length blonde hair and a nose ring- What is it with teenagers in piercings?! I'm a teenager myself, I ought to have figured that out! I could understand aesthetics, but they had to come out at some point. And when they did, they'd leave holes, wouldn't they? It was weird. "Now you've told us your little joke, so walk away," She added.

"Again," I repeated, with a raised eyebrow, now pointing behind them "I'm walking that direction. Not interested in that midget you're protecting."

"Don't call him that!" Simon yelled, balling his fists, "If you're going to leave, then leave, just- Leave him alone!"

"...God, how dramatic," I breathed, beginning to walk around the group in order to pass, smirk still bright. They were acting like the protagonists of a superhero flick or something.

"What, Winter, you're just gonna take that?" Jackson asked, as he followed me.

"Oh, lord, you're right Jackson. You reminded me of something important," I stated, with a blink. Just as we passed the larger group, I turned back towards them and pointed at my three dogs with a thumb, smirk dissipating into a basic gaze, "I don't know these clowns. And that midget you're protecting? Never saw him before in my life."

Jackson let out a confused breath, but the other two let out short hisses of laughter. All the students in the school knew I associated with these dogs, but few of the teachers actually believed it. I didn't exactly need to make denials, sure, but I felt it was a common courtesy that I'd rather not have lost, lest the need to do so in future slipped my mind.

Simon growled, taking a step towards me, fists still balled as though to strike me. Katie and the other boy quickly grabbed him by the arm to stop him, hissing about how I wasn't worth it. My dogs tensed up a little, hisses of laughter dying down into intense silence.

"I told you not to call him that..." Simon said, in a low tone, trying to be intimidating. In all fairness, it was pretty good. If I didn't know him as well as I did, it may have even worked.

...Okay, doubt. But it was unsettling in some manner or another, it filled me, much like everything else, with a deep sense of nothing. He was a nothing, spewing nothing, in protection of nothing. What had I to be nervous about with the three musclebound boys at my side? It wasn't easy to be intimidated by anything when you had protection like mine.

"And what an impression it's made on him. I don't think he'll ever recover from being called a midget! I... My God what have I done?!" I mocked, with an unpleasant twist to my lip, "Come on now, not like words can hurt. Not as much as a few kicks to the face, anyhow." I answered, shooting Andrew a meaningful wink. He didn't exactly respond, he and the other two still staring in dangerous silence at the gang of Artists.

"Is that how you did it? A kick to the face?!" Simon asked, dangerously, now closer to my face than I was comfortable with. Marv, stepped forward and pushed Simon back rather forcefully, making him stumble. Simon was visibly restraining himself now. Keeping my face as blank as ever, I shrugged.

"Nope. As I said, all them," I motioned to the dogs, "I was an innocent bystander. Isn't that right, Arthur?"

I called to the boy, who blinked at me in surprise when I did. After a short pause, he lowered his head and muttered, rather sourly if dejectedly: "Don't talk to me..."

Oh, that boy. Breaking my heart. I was used to dealing with people like Simon. People who wanted nothing more than to punch me. They were pretty common. And maybe they deserved to. Perhaps I deserved it. But I wouldn't condone it. Besides the occasional masochist, who really would?

"See? He likes me," I said, looking back to Simon. Katie was now the only one still holding his arm, silently glancing between him and I. After a moment, she sighed in exasperation and leaned in close to Simon to mutter something that I couldn't quite hear into his ear.

I had my assumptions. The old 'he isn't worth it', or maybe 'come on, another time'? Who knows. What I do know, is that after she muttered those silent, sweet words to him, his eyes shot to the dogs behind me, and seemed to lighten up. He unballed his fist, and gave me a steady stare, as Katie leaned away again, biting her lip.

"You know, Townsend, you'd be nothing without these three," Simon said, motioning to my dogs. Marv scoffed behind me, and I noticed Andrew shaking his head, "It's true. If they weren't here right now, you'd be on the floor with a bloody nose, crying out for daddy."

"Jokes on you, my father's dead," I retorted, almost cracking another smirk when he blinked in surprise. You had to admit – shocking people with edgy bluntness was so satisfying, "Then again, who doesn't have a disassembled family anymore?"

"Watch what you say about Winter!" Jackson spat, one of his hands suddenly clasping my shoulder as he gently pulled me back. I wasn't fond of touching, but Jackson was the exception. Mainly because he never bloody stopped. He touched everyone. A fistbump here, a slap across the face there, and with me, most commonly; a hand on the shoulder, "Lets go, we'll get 'em next time."

"Oh, ohoh, if you're getting us, you can be sure Winter won't be getting involved! You know he's using you three, right?!" Called the blondie with the piercing. By this point, I had milked this encounter of all the interest it was worth. I shrugged to myself and turned, looking sideways at Jackson.

"What happened to 'are you gonna take that'? That was a pretty hasty retreat, on your part-" I started, but got cut off as he explained;

"Saw a teacher comin'. Probably to check what the ruckus was about."

"Ah," I nodded, pouting a bit as Simon's yells followed us.

"You'd be useless without them, Townsend! Useless, you manipulative bastard! Just you wait and see!" He called. Which had me a little bit confused for a moment. 'Just wait and see'? What, do you know something I don't, you son of a b***h?! I rolled my eyes internally, not bothering to look back. His yells would only attract more negative attention. I pushed ahead, in order to walk in front of the large boys again.

"Winter... Don't take what they said too seriously, alright? We were joking around before, when we said you're a mascot, y-" Andrew started, but stopped when I raised a hand. He shut up, just like that. Just like a dog. A well-trained dog, who had no idea that he was in fact in a very subtle master-servant relationship.

"It's fine, Andrew. If he ever comes near us again, make sure to growl louder. He talks all tough, but beneath that jacket, he's skin and bones," I said, rather blandly, pulling my phone out again. He nodded in agreement, as I went on, "And I'd hold off from touching Arthur for... At least a month. But when we get back to it... We'll make it bloody... er..."

I kept saying 'we', despite all of us knowing that there'd be a distinct lack of involvement on my part. And they just smiled and nodded, vocalising their agreement. I felt like a Bond villain, even if a silly one. And I'm sure it was that thrill that made them forget. To think, that at one point, Simon considered himself my friend. And briefly, I was his. All very brief.

All very over, very fast.

A friend who somehow convinced himself that I was, by whatever logic: 'manipulative'. I was many things; egotistical, sure, I don't feel ashamed to admit it. An asshole, oh yes. Exploiting my position in society certainly made me that. But not manipulative. It took a certain level of skill I had yet to understand to be called that.

I clicked my fingers, and my dogs followed, until we went our separate ways to get home. Little did any of us know, that would be the last time our whole group would ever be together again.

End of Chapter 1.