Fiction	Characters
The Equalizer - Birth of a Vigilante
Mike Wass (11.05.99) elcarpo@yahoo.com

"Can anyone really be a product of society?"

Chapter 1

He sat there huddled in the corner of his room. It was just like every other time when his dad came home drunk. He would run into his room and just huddle in the corner and listen as his father yelled, screamed and pounded on his mother. This had been going on for about 5 years. It started when he was 8, and has been the same ever since. When Greg would ask about the marks and bruises on her face, she would just make excuses. It was always the same. His dad would come home and would instantly start up with his mom. He was huge and would pound and yell and throw anything he could get his hands on. It would all take about 45 minutes and would usually end in a thump as his mother fell to the floor. Then she would slowly drag herself to her room where she would weep into her pillow. His dad would go into his den and take out a bottle of whiskey and sit and stare at the wall. Greg would sit in his room and listen to his mother cry or he would, when feeling brave, sneak into his mother's room and just hold her and kiss her. She would smile at her brave little son and wrap her arms around his little body.

This night it was no different right up to the thump on the floor. Everything was the same, except that there was no weeping. There was no sound of dragging across the floor. It was just silence and then the opening of a whiskey bottle in his dad's den. Greg peeked out from his room and saw that his mother was just lying on the ground. She was not moving at all. He ran to her side and knelt down to her side and placed his cheek next to her nose. There was only a slight breath coming from within her. Greg's eyes began to tear. His father had hurt his mother for the last time. He clenched his fist.

"I'll be back, momma."

He went to the phone and dialed the police. Then he went into his parent's room and into his father's dresser drawer. This was where he kept his revolver. Greg had fired it many times before. His dad had shown him how, should someone ever try to break into the house and hurt him and his mother. Now it would finally serve its purpose. Greg walked past his mother, knelt and kissed her cheek. Then walked into the den. His father was facing the other way and didn't hear him enter. The radio was on and a ballad from the early 1990's was playing softly. His father was sitting in his lounge chair with a glass of whiskey in one had and the liquor cabinet open directly behind the chair. Greg's rage increase at the sight of his drunken father. He walked in front of his father and met his stare eye for eye.

"What the frag you want, you little piss?" Grumbled his father, not moving from his seat.

Greg didn't say a thing; he just stared and slowly raised the pistol to his eye level. His father barely flinched.

"Careful with that boy, you don't want to hurt me do you? You think you have enough guts to pull that trigger? You haven't got nothing, you little fragger. You're just as stupid and yellow as your mother!"

Greg didn't react he just stared at his father through the aiming reticle. He aimed and slowly squeezed the trigger.

The burst was horrendous and it nearly wrenched the weapon from his young hand. The bullet entered his father's head and exited out the back and destroyed the liquor cabinet. Blood splattered all over the walls, and the glass in his father's hand fell to the ground and rolled under the chair. His father's body sat limp in the chair. Greg lowered the gun to his side and walked over to his mother. There was a knock on the door. The police had arrived with an ambulance. They asked Greg to bring them to his mother. He led them to where she was sprawled on the floor.

"Jesus Christ!" Yelled one of the officers as he looked into the den. He stared back at the kid and at the gun in his hand. Then he looked at the women on the ground. She was beaten and bruised all over her face and body. The connection formed quickly. The boy stared at the officer and then watched as his mother was lifted into the ambulance. The officer moved behind Greg.

"Son, can I have that pistol?"

Greg didn't say a word; he just handed it over to the officer and hopped into the ambulance with his mother. The officer looked into the gun chamber, one bullet was missing. He watched as the ambulance pulled away. The boy leaning over his mother visible in the window. He slowly shook his head.

"My God." He whispered.

Chapter 2

Greg's mother died that night in the ambulance. The fracture in her skull was just too much. Greg wept as they wheeled her into the hospital, all the while working to revive her. They put him in the lounge and the police officer, who had confiscated the revolver, walked over to join him. He questioned Greg about that night and about school and everything he could think of. Greg was fairly quiet, but answered obediently. Later that night the officer processed the boy and took him to his new home, a juvenile detention community for those without parents. Greg was scared and yet he felt a sort of calm come over him. He quickly made some friends and also quickly made enemies. Above all the rest, there were two people he hated most. Styler was first on this list. Styler was a big kid who picked on anyone that was smaller than him, and that was just about everyone. He beat on Greg as often as he could. Sometimes he would wait for Greg after lunch, when all of the children were outside exercising or playing baseball. Syler would grab Greg from the behind, wrapping his large hand around Greg's neck and lifting him off the ground. The other residents would look on in horror. Greg would kick and swing to loosen Styler's grip and catch some shallow breaths. Once Styler had weakened him, he would drop him to the ground and kick him in the ribs till Greg either passed out or played dead. Greg never had a chance to fight back and it would be for no use, Styler was just too big. Greg would take this kind of punishment day in and day out.

Greg's only defense was Kepler, but Kepler was the number two most hated. Ironically, Kepler was the "warden" of the community. He was also huge, and didn't take anything from anyone. He didn't care about any of the kids and often beat those that complained. He targetted Greg especially because he seemed weak and Kepler enjoyed inflicting pain. Kepler would take Greg into his office and using a wooden board, with numerous nails inserted in it, and pound Greg on the back. At first he would do this until Greg teared, but as time went on Greg realized that this was the source of Kepler's pleasure. Kepler liked to break them. So Greg decided he would deny Kepler of this pleasure and he began to withstand the pain. Greg would stay focused and silent. He would not tear or complain, he would just hold it in and win his inner battle. This enraged Kepler and he would just hit harder and more often. He was viscous, but the only way to survive was to take what was given to you and so Greg did.

Greg learned that hate was natural and it couldn't be avoided. Soon it began to consume him. Soon Greg,began to become almost impervious to pain. He would sacrifice himself for friends and that made him a hero to those he saved, and a rival to Kepler and Styler. All the time though, he was hatching a plan to get out of the hell he had been placed in.

His opportunity came on a Saturday morning. He had been given laundry detail, this meant he would be watched over by Grover. Grover was an old security guard that often fell asleep at his post. Today was no exception. Greg was sorting laundry and Grover was grabbing some zees. Greg snuck over to the sleeping guard and reached his hand through the bars and unhooked the gun from his gun belt. He hid it in a pile of clothes and finished the rest of his work. Then he went back to his room. There he used a piece of tape to secure the gun to his back, underneath his shirt. He walked out of his room and walked over to Styler's and knocked on his door. Kepler answered.

"What do you want you little twerp?" Styler bellowed.

Without warning Greg pulled back and punched Styler full force in the mouth. The fatso fell to the ground with a slump. Greg fell on top of him and continued to pound on him. Styler let out a yell and pushed Greg off of him and to the floor. Kepler rushed from making his rounds, and yanked Greg to his feet and hauled him off to his office. The other residents watched in horror, as the office door slammed shut. Kepler threw him to the ground and went over to his closet and opened up the door. He pulled out a large wooden bat with holes and iron nails pounded into it to give it weight. Greg watched as he pulled out the bat, then he yanked the gun from his back and pistol-whipped Kepler on the head before he could turn around. The large mass fell to the ground with a thunk. He rolled the fat mass over and stuck the gun into his mouth. He then slapped Kepler till he woke up. When he awoke Kepler was looking down the barrel of the security revolver. His eyes went wide and sweat began to bead down his forehead. When he flinched, Greg cocked the hammer back and shook his head slightly. Kepler remained still and more sweat began to spew from his pores.

"Your probably wondering why I'm doing this aren't you?" Greg's monotone voice broke the silence. "Well I'm going to tell you. You see, since I was young I've watched larger more powerful people pick on those weaker and smaller. I've seen my father do it, Styler did it, corporations do it and so do you. But now the time has come for a change. No longer are the weak going to be pushed around by shit heads like you. Now there is going to be a new authority, a new kind of law, my law. I'm going to change things for the weak and the small. I'm going to make them even, I'm going to equal out the war and then I'm going to topple it in the favor of the weak. You see Kepler, you've taught me what it's like to hate, what its like to feel pain and then not care, you've taught me what it is like to thirst for vengeance, and now you're going to teach me what its like to take revenge. Good bye teacher."

The bullet made a loud sucking sound as it entered and exited out the back into the floor. The blood showered the room in a grotesque red color. It splattered onto Greg and coated his face in crimson hate. Greg slowly removed the revolver from Kepler's now limp mouth. He leaned over and, using Kepler's shirt, wiped the blood from his face.

Greg walked out of the office past all the other residents and into the laundry room. He walked past Styler, who had passed out on the floor. Greg ran back to his room and grabbed all of his belongings. He remembered that there was a truck parked in the Laundry Room. Today was the day that the Laundry truck was scheduled to take away the dirty clothes to be washed. Greg knew the schedule and planned on using this information to it's full advantage. When he arrived at the laundry room the truck was just about to pull away, but Greg lept in front of the truck and brought the pistol to bear on the driver. The man froze and his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. The driver maneuvered to exit the truck, but Greg motioned for him to stay seated. Greg opened the passenger door and slid down in the seat out of sight with his pistol constantly trained on the driver.

"Nice and easy, pull out of the complex, no sudden moves, or I make you a window ornament."

The driver nodded and they slowly pulled out of the complex unnoticed. When they were about 5 miles outside of the complex, Greg had the driver stop the car and get out. The driver, not wanting to get himself killed, obeyed and pulled over to the side of the road. Greg thanked the driver and sped off in the direction of downtown Seattle.

He found an abandoned building on the outskirts of town and hid the truck there. He then searched through the laundry bags for better clothes to wear. He found some black jeans and a black long coat. He also found a red T-shirt. He grabbed some other clothes he liked and put them in one of the empty laundry bags. The bloody clothes he put into a separate bag, and threw them into the abandoned building. He searched the truck for anything else useful. In the glove compartment was a map of Seattle and a phone book. Greg also found a pair of black sunglasses and some breath mints. Greg flipped through the phone book looking for a car dealer that would purchase the truck. He found one in town and drove the truck into the heart of Seattle. On his way, he stopped at a local shelter and dropped the clean laundry in the back of the truck off to the great appreciation of the service workers. He later sold the Van for a descent price. Then he found a gun shop and purchased a matching security revolver. This proved difficult, but money talked and the man behind the counter was able to part with the weapon, despite the kid's age. Greg also purchased a double holster for his weapons and 10 rounds of ammo for each. Greg's next stop was the clothing shop. There he purchased a wide brim black hat and a black shirt. With these new weapons and new clothing he took on a new persona. He looked at himself in the mirror. This was going to be the beginning of the end for those who believed they could kick the less fortunate around. He would make things equal. He paid for his purchases and walked out into the Seattle night. This was his time to make things right and he was going to do it his way.

"The Equalizer. I think I like the sound of that. No more Gregory Marone. No more victim, now I'm the one calling the shots."

"I am the Equalizer!" His voice echoed in the dark silence.

With that he slowly walked down the street. He was going to have to work in the shadows, he was going to have to be brutal, and he was going to make things equal...