500 - Part I - Distorted Shadows and Monsters

Chapter XIV - Vive la révolution // Vive les ennemis

They arrived. Twenty minutes late. "You lazy hog, Terry," Brielle muttered, causing a smile to appear upon Daniel's face. Terry had never looked so uncomfortable. Not even when he was in the presence of that man. Yes, that man. "You agreed to walk," he argued, "It was all your fault." She fake-laughed. "Oh so funny, because you were nagging for us to slow down. Was I too fast for you?" Daniel chuckled. "Why is everybody always against me?" Terry moaned.
"Because—"

Brielle was stopped straight in her tracks. "Vive la révolution!" a voice echoed. Great, Grayden. "Vive la révolution! Vive la révolution! Vive la révolution!" a chorus sang. He was now wearing a waistcoat, but with the same two thin horizontal lines of teal on his black tie. His sleeves were rolled up, relaxed. His features were unsettlingly calm and focused. "Vive la révolution!" he hollered, clapping his hands and grinning. "Vive la révolution!" Waterwood smiled in unison. Grayden nodded at her. "Do we tell them?" he whispered, eyebrows furrowing. She nodded curtly. The gesture was hardly seen, but Daniel could clearly see the excitement bursting like fireworks in the man's eyes. He fiddled with his belt, as CJ did, but instead of keys, were bullets. Bullets without guns. He didn't have a silencer on him. A threatening machine. Alistair was like a fun, jolly relative, of whom was both unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.

He paced towards Daniel, his eyes gently gliding to focus on the whiskey orbs. "Bonjour, Daniel," he grinned cockily. Daniel instinctively smiled at being smiled at. Terry nudged his arm. "What was that for?" Grayden said this. Brielle's jaw was about to fall open, but she dug her front canines into her lips, not caring about the copper taste of blood in her mouth. Trickling down her throat. "Vive la révolution, Daniel. You know what that means?" Grayden spoke softly, patting Daniel's shoulders. They tensed. "Sorry, I mean no harm."
"That's likely!" a boy with silver hair screamed. It was the same boy Daniel had seen before in the corridor. His eyes were wearier, face muscles drooping, hair greasy as ever. His fists were curled and his stance was intimidating, despite his miniature size. Grayden looked bemused. "What? Why? Why would you think that of me? I'm only here to look after you." His tongue clicked. "I don't look up to you," Silver growled, "You don't strike me as the caretaker."
"We provide you with food—" Grayden spluttered.
"Nope. Tastes horrible."
"What do you want? Pepperoni pizza and chicken nuggets? Sorry, but in these circumstances, that would be a miracle to get our hands on." That was said kindly. "Be grateful for what you're given." That was said harshly.

His friendly demeanour was eradicated. Violence was ultimately elaborated. "I didn't bring one of my guns," Grayden spat, "I didn't bring any of my guns." Silver's eyes darted everywhere. There must've been a thousand or so children staring at him blankly, all huddled together in this corridor. "Déteste la révolution," Grayden's grunted, his lips folding over his bared teeth, much like a wild animal. To be fair, he was insane. That was being generous to his madness. The atmosphere could've been sliced with a knife. All emotions were on the blade, so close to the edge. Feelings were about to fall off and scatter all over the place. Worry was at gunpoint.
"Détestez la révolution, détestez les sujets et détestez les menaces."
"Je parle couramment le français et je comprends vos mots durs," Daniel pronounced beautifully. Grayden's harshness was tamed temporarily. He started a round of applause, but there was an ocean of silence that washed over the children, a tidal wave of fear, a tsunami of uncertainty.
"When did you learn French?" Grayden queried.
"Avant cette affaire redoutée," Daniel answered.
"I don't understand," he laughed nervously.
"You will understand, Grayden. We don't want you ruining our lives. Vive la révolution. Libérez-nous?"

"I've wanted this so badly," Grayden said solemnly, "The perfect action movie scene. Daniel's speaking French and everybody is looking at me like I'm a killer."
"Vous êtes le tueur," Daniel snapped, strutting over to Grayden and punching him in the face. "Vive la révolution." Grayden blinked and his eyes remained shut several moments after. He opened them again in disbelief, eyes coals in a blazing fire, burning away as fuel. Fuel for power. "Vive la révolution," Daniel muttered again, Grayden receiving another blast to his eye.
"I know you had bad blood, but not against me," Grayden panted, the pain helping him concentrate.
"Vive la révolution," continued Daniel. A slap this time. You had to mix up revenge. It's not plain. It's a creative form of art. So Daniel thought. "Long live the revolution. Is that what you said when you murdered Blaze Scatter? An innocent man." Grayden didn't flinch at Daniel's contact. Daniel patted Grayden's shoulder, as he had done to the boy previously. "Is that what you said?" Daniel screamed, "As you took the life of a free man and pretended it didn't happen." He turned away, facing the wall, closing his eyes gently. He wishes he was alone, right now. Without the staring faces. He didn't blame them though: they were curious as he was.

A few seconds passed. Grayden's colleagues were grouped around him. Waterwood was pushing him away. She seemed to have scorn written all over her. Not surprising in the slightest. "Leave him," Grayden whispered, his fingers rubbing his nose. Not having to be told twice, Waterwood released Daniel immediately. He fell in an awkward stumble, a flash of grey on the floor. He tripped again on his jacket, as he steadily rose higher. Grayden kicked him in the stomach. Why did he have to be wearing tall, fancy boots? They were so sharp at the bottom. Daniel cried and writhed in agony, clutching his skin, as he quickly slammed against the floor. His head hit the concrete of the wall. His legs hit the concrete of the floor. Blood. Brielle's eyes widened. Terry offered for her to cry into his arm. "Stop it," Brielle shouted, finding her voice. She stepped away from her...friend. "Everything's violence, isn't it?" She stared at the children and not the adults. Grayden's men were wearing black trench coats today. Many were attractive, with tattoos and perfect hair, but if they were violent, they were ugly. If they were harsh and nasty, they were dirty. Nobody was going to be fussing over their style anytime soon. Following on, Grayden's women were wearing black dresses and a myriad of makeup in a plethora of colours. There was mascara concealing their eyes like racoon masks. They also wore these hauntingly beautiful fascinators. They were indeed fascinating.

"I want none of this," Brielle teared up, "Leave Daniel alone."
"He attacked me!" raged Grayden.
"You murdered a man," she scolded him, eyes flaring with a shade of hostility. She wasn't one to mess with. That was clear. "You crave attention, because you're a weak, old man, who never truly understood love."
"If I didn't care about love, you all wouldn't be here. You'd find yourself a luxury apartment in the graveyard," Grayden answered, grey eyes confused, but fresh with anger.
"Charming." Brielle and Grayden stood-off for a minute or so, before Daniel placed himself between them both. "Let's just get this straight," Daniel grinned, "That's Brielle's nice side." She appeared irritated by his remark. "She can do a lot more damage than that," he added, earning a fluttery smile, "She's a machine."
"More damage, eh? How come the scaredy-cat won't actually do anything? You both don't land on two feet." Brielle gripped his black and teal tie, wrapping her whole hand around the soft quality material. "Try me," she demanded, through gritted teeth. Grayden whimpered. Many children watched, their eyes glued to the scene, as though it were the best football match ever or the latest gripping action film series finale in the cinema. "I-can't-breathe," he choked out. She was strangling him. She was actually strangling him. "I know you can't, Gray. That's why I'm doing this." She had never enjoyed pain. She hated hearing it. She despised witnessing it. She loathed feeling it. She usually couldn't stand of causing it. Not today. The inflictions were fun.

"Noooooooooo!" Grayden squeaked out, lungs not filling with any oxygen. He collapsed to the ground.