Tony Chestnut

Tony picked up the bloodied stump of his former partner’s arm.

He looked down at the now rather deformed body of the man who went to great lengths to take him down without his knowledge.

You see Tony was the head of an organization, vigilantes if you will.

They took to the streets at night, stopping rapists, murders and thieves under the cloak of darkness.

They had seen their city turn to shit for such a long time now.

The police did nothing about it.

They never ventured into Tony's part of town, mostly because they were incapable baboons who couldn’t butter a piece of toast.

Tony looked down at the now bloodied chopped up corpse of Marcus.

Marcus you see got greedy and power began to rise in his mind. He'd seal money from wallets to begin with, but not long after he'd steal their keys to their homes and ransack their entire place. Looting it, becoming a criminal himself.

All the while Tony had no idea.

Not until a newspaper article with a blurred photograph of a distinctive shaped Marcus (he was like a round ball!).

This made him put two and two together.

He also found out via his sources that Marcus had planned to murder Tony and dispose of his body. Taking over the crime watch, turning it into a crime spree.

Klurrixville was no longer the beautiful city Tony had grown up in. Now it was just a city that smelt awful, like rotting garbage, corpses and the most heinous after gym sweat; that would not only burn your nose hair but also liquify your insides.

More and more good-natured people were avoiding and more scum were entering. The city even at night had a red hue. It seemed as though even the world knew this place was hell on earth.

"Great fricken mess you go us into now Angelo" he screamed tossing Marcus' severed arm slapping Angelo messily and noisily in the face.

Angelo wiped the blood and tissue from his face.

"'E fookin' deserved et. Dirty schom. 'E thort 'e war Gods gift tar man. This was tha only wae Tohny"

He pigeon chested himself so much that Tony had to have a laugh.

Angelo was a big boy. Like the most massive man you had seen in your life, he was muscular but also pretty porky. He had a buzz cut and always wore suspenders. He felt they gave him a little bit of class.

Despite his size he was quick on his feet and extremely agile (he was forced to ballet as a child but do not under any circumstance bring this up with him, he will kill you, with one single punch)

"Calm down. I know man, but seriously did you really need to cut every limb off his body?"

Angelo smiled with the saliva on his blackened teeth shining under the moons glow.

"Aie. I 'ad ta make sure tha bastard was dead. Real dead"

He paused and gave Tony a wide-eyed look. "Ye knoe. Like in tha movies. When tha killer is on tha ground an' everyone aroun' 'im thinks 'es dead..."

Angelo jolted and got right in Tony's face "'n then tha bastard joomps tha fuck op 'nd stabs every last fooker ta death!!!"

He glared into Tony's eyes almost too deeply and as if he was going to passionately stick his tongue down his throat.

"You stupid fuck. That’s what happened to you. Not in the movies" The both laughed and Tony shoved Angelo away.

"Besides. In the end. The killer usually dies. It’s very rare he doesn't... Now clean this shit up. We've got work to do..." Tony looked up at the pink moon. "Blood is spilled this night, and it isn't here...

With that Angelo began to pack Marcus' remains into garbage bags as Tony jumped in his car to go look for some trouble, and to stop it in its tracks...

You wouldn’t recognise Tony in his everyday life.

Whilst on his vigilant stints in the evening he would let is hair fall in front of his eye's kind of like one of those pesky emo kids who whine about life being so hard even though they are in the safe environment of their rich, middle class or upper-class parents' home. Clothed, roomed fed but having an unnecessary amount of angst for no fucking reason at all. Complaining about the man when the man was his had working father or mother throwing large sums of money at the kid buying them whatever piece of useless technology the little weak fucks needed to better their already swish life style with no chores or responsibilities in the world. I digress, but he wore all black. Slick shoes but appropriate for chasing down anyone who ran, black massive pleather coat (I mean who wants to pay for leather when you can get stabbed or shot at any time ruining the attire, not to mention the weight of it). He looked ridiculous but it worked well with intimidation when he stepped into an alleyway brandishing a shot gun aimed at the heads of the offenders.

His apartment was clean as a whistle, no one knew how he got the time to make it so neat and tidy with the small hours he had in a day already. He didn’t want to hire a maid because who the fuck can risk a small innocent cleaning lady accidentally happening on his weapons stash, a blood pool and end up creating chaos for the man.

Tony’s alarm screamed at 7am as per usual on a weekday, he had only had a few hours' sleep. He stumbled out of bed into the bathroom where the pile of his blood-soaked clothing lay on the floor in a heap. He groaned at the notion that he probably should have thrown them into the washing machine before he piled into bed.

Reluctantly he gathered the clothes and chucked them into the machine sprinkling them with a sickly flower smelling powder, I mean people would underestimate a man coming to kill you if you smelt like a fucking florist. As he returned from starting the cycle, he noted that the ground was stained red from the excess blood. “Fuck me.” his eyes rolled the back of his head as he mopped up the carnage before jumping into the shower to get ready for the day.

There he was looking nerdy as fuck. Tweed. The man wore tweed. Who the hell is this guy and why would he go to such lengths to look like such a pansy? He slicked back his mop of hair with way too much hair product and donned his non-prescription specs. I am not sure who he was fooling, but it seemed to work as no one ever gave him a second, or first glance. I guess reading Superman comics in his childhood had rubbed off on him but its not like he flew around in a swimsuit and would be seen during the deep dark of the night.

He trotted out of his apartment just in time for his bus, pulled out a novel and was engrossed in it to much he almost missed his stop.

Above him stood a skyscraper, he shuffled inside, past Pat the jolly security guard who Tony smiled and nodded at but Pat seriously could give less than two fucks. As he rounded the corner, he hastened his steps as the elevator doors started to close, the blank stares of the people inside meant; he was not going to get let on. As the doors shut in his face he sighed and pushed the button to call another one.

Once in the office Tony (again being ignored by the would bang but not take home to mother) receptionist sat filing her nails, again, ignoring Tony even existed. The guy was either a rock or a genius to make himself out to be so invisible.

He sat himself down in his tiny cubicle which didn’t have my personal items but mostly cacti, a regular boring indoor plant, a mug that said Best Employee in The World (which was given to him, by himself...), and a bunch of cat photos. Tony fired up his computer, logged in and took his mug to the kitchen to scarf down several cups of coffee.

In the kitchen stood Sue from accounting, Darcy from accounts receivable and Daniel from the payroll department. They were busily gossiping about their night out prior, how Amy and Peter (both married) hooked up in the bathroom going “all the way” (Note: they aren’t married to each other). Tony stood back staring at these bunch of fucking wankers and just imagined all of their heads severed from their bodies and how this wouldn’t be a huge task on his behalf however the consequences of killing these people would not better the world, it would just make his morning coffee more peaceful instead of having to listen to their mundane dribble.

Darcy looked over at Tony (mostly because he was tapping incessantly on the table) scoffed and whispered to the other two and they giggled quietly amongst each other. Tony thought about how people like these have no purpose to serve society other than fillers and their meaningless existences are rather sad and pathetic considering they could talk of nothing else apart from other people. He then soon realised him sitting their passing judgement on them was just as bad and focused his inner monologue on the plight multiple animals across the globe and what a cluster fuck humanity has had on this planet.

He walked over and made another coffee before settling back at his desk. He was just opening up his usual programs and documents (he did data entry from a manually printed pile of paper that always seemed to appear on his desk by god knows who when he was always grabbing a coffee) when Jennifer the sectary of the boss was walking around the office asking around the office who Tony was and where she could find him. He tried to grab her attention but was again ignored; he decided the best course of action was to follow her as she walked back in her original direction.

When he caught up with her, she spun around and called him a freak for following her. He gently said to her “I am Tony, heard you were looking for me”. She shrivelled up her old lady lips and gruffly responded with narrowed eyes “The boss wants to see you” in a condescending harsh tone. Tony wanted to punch her lights out but he refrained as she spun around and gestured rudely into the open office door.

“Sir, I found Tony, not that he made it easy” She snarled at Tony where he got to see that the pink shit stain lipstick was all over her haggard teeth.

“Send him in” advised the gruff uninviting voice inside.

Tony walked in to be met with the fat fuck of a boss, he sat down in the chair opposite him staring at the pieces of food stuck in his unkept moustache.

“Tony, we need to talk about your work” he paused. Keep in mind Tony was a pretty through and hard worker. Anything he did was always completed, nothing was left undone at any stage, and he was good at it too.

“I feel like you could do a lot more than you already are. You get me?” some of the food from his moustache fell into his coffee cup as he took a sip.

“So, we are going to double your workload as I think you need to prove yourself more, and you need to do more, because frankly, everyone is sick of holding up your lack of work ethic.”

Tony stared at him for a moment, Tony was the only one doing the job he was doing, nothing he did impacted anyone else's job tasks, in fact if they did directly correlate, he made their lives easier by doing what he did, the already sky-high paperwork was already hard enough to complete in a day, he did it anyway, but a double workload? Not a chance.

“Sure thing boss.” Tony knew that despite everything he could either get it all done, or toss half of it out and no one would even notice.

“Good job Tony, a real team player, just watch out you may be in my seat one day!” as he said this he knocked over his coffee cup onto his lap jumping up screaming and carrying on like a pork chop before Jennifer came running in to see what all the fuss was about, grabbed some tissues and began to somewhat sexually rubbing his crotch as if to help out soak up the spillage but also because they were both fucking each other (Note: they are also both married to other people).

Tony for a moment imagined this beast of a man fucking the flabby bitch over the desk during one of their many impromptu meetings. He made a loud gagging sound which was both met with dismay by the other two people in the room, before excusing himself and hurrying out back to his desk.

You might be wondering why a guy who basically murders and maims people for a living would be sitting in a shitty desk job from 9 to 5, quite frankly so do I but I guess if you are not profiting from getting rid of the trash in the world you still need to find a way to pay bills as it is a thankless and unprofitable practice.

Tony sat at his desk eating his lunch as the rest of the office gathered in the lunch room to say goodbye to a co-worker who once they left the office no body there would speak to and truly did not give two shits about, but pretending you’re a good and decent person is higher on most people's agendas than actually acting like one without prompting. Tony knew he wouldn’t be missed nor would the person leaving give two craps about Tony not attending. He was either the weirdo or the non-existent person in the office. Where he often got asked his name by the same people over and over asking him if he was new or people would just float by him like he was a ghost.

He was just looking forward to getting home, getting changed and meeting Angelo at their local hole in the wall bar where they would discuss the antics from the night before and what was possibly going to happen to them on the night ahead. Planning was a bit erratic as you can never predict the unpredictable behaviour of the homosapien.

He slunk out of the office just as the clock ticked over 1 minute past his scheduled finishing time. His mouse was already hovering over the shutdown button and off he went to the lifts to once again have the doors not held open for him with the once again snarling snaggle toothed Jennifer at the front.

“Fuck that bitch” he thought to himself before once again pressing the call button to be welcomed by an empty lift which he rode down whilst listening to the soothing tones of Kenny fucking G.

As Tony lay on the dirty warehouse floor surround by at least 30 other bodies, grasping at his stomach desperately trying to hold in his intestines that were now attempting to spill from the gaping hole that was now ripped from one side of his stomach to the other. He probably shouldn’t have trusted Seymore but was more pissed at himself for caring for the low life scumbag from their childhood years. Tony began laughing about a long-lost memory of Seymore falling off a skateboard onto a railing straight onto his nut sack tearing them in two and being rushed to the hospital to have surgery; Tony coughed up blood from laughing so hard which splattered all over his face. He decided at this point he was going to live and fucking destroy Seymore and his entire gang.

I probably should do that thing, where for you to understand what just happened and how Tony came to be on the floor sliced open like someone out of a horror movie, we go back in time 24 hours to when Tony and Angelo met up in the darkest and quietest corner at Tauchen their local dive bar.

The bar had all of the charm of a fat man's armpit who was desperately trying to exercise kilos away (I mean good on him for trying but at the same time he was pretty much eating a bucket of KFC to himself each evening – so counterproductive). What I am getting at was that it smelt horrific, but despite that it was decorated with the most random items that gave it so much charm that you forgot about the eye stinging stank, and of course the greatest selections of booze in the city; most of it unobtainable elsewhere in the country. Of course it was mostly illegal and absolutely delicious.

As Angelo and Tony sat down drinking their beers from the stained glasses (Gary the bar tender and owner didn’t really give a shit about any hygiene codes – and its not like that anyone really cared)

They discussed the actions for the night ahead. There was this gruff guy called Martino who was wreaking havoc, it was not in their town but it was adjacent so it pretty much concerned them as with any toxic spill, it can spread beyond the point of original contamination.

This guy was a bit higher up on the end of their food chain, not their usual low life scum riffraff trying to make a name for themselves but this guy was the real deal. Kind of pathetic really as he fit into the stereotypical gangster mould. Like the one you see in those hipidy hop videos with too many dollars and not much sense blaming bitches for the fact that they cannot even control their inability to get a hard on.

They would need a lot more muscle and a lot more gun power with this, basically it was going to not be a blood bath but it would be a tsunami of destruction, something that Angelo was looking forward to.

He looked at Tony, drank some of the beer (it was disgusting beer by the way) licked his lips and wiped away his excess saliva whilst Tony hatched a plan on how to go out ending the mayhem of this “boss man”.

“We need extra bodies on this one, and by bodies I mean ones we can expend easily, but also we will need a back up to that, I am thinking we should get Seymore on this one as well. Someone we know and trust” (HA!)

Angelo rocked back and forth in the booth with massive discomfort at the mention of Seymore, you see unlike Tony, Angelo had the best nose for smelling horseshit, but as he knew Tony liked this guy he had to tread lightly on how he approached this.

“Seymore? Ack! Tohne! Seymores a fookin schoombag fukwit who I wouldnee troost wit mah dick let alohn my safety”

Tony chuckled. “Come on Angelo you just don’t like him because he and I are so close.”

Angelo spat half his drink all over himself and onto Tony.

“Nae man! I no like em as eh is a ‘orrid man, and ye shouldnee troost him. E’s bad news Tohnee” he blathered as he attempted to wipe up the mess from him and Tony’s clothes.

Again, nothing could really help Tony stop making this decision, I mean perhaps knowing what we know now would be able to assist him in making a smart decision but alas, no one can know the future unless you are writing it in a story.

Angelo did not have the ability to argue any further as in slinked Seymore. He was one of those people you double take in the street not because he is good looking or anything, in fact it was the exact opposite, Seymore was one ugly mother fucker. He was tall and lean, nothing too out of the ordinary, but his face, or god his face. It wasn’t as if he was hit with an ugly stick. This guy was annihilated by the tree where the stick came from originally; like from the top of the tree, hitting every single fucking branch on the way down. Ever. Single. Branch. His face is the type to make small children cry, adults' wince, and cute little puppy dogs to yelp and bolt in the other fucking direction. He also smelt like an old sock that had been soaking in a sewerage plant for at least 100 years.

You get where I am going here? I feel like I could go on but I will stop now as thinking about his face is making me feel sick.

“Git tae fook Seymore; you are a rite shite and I canne troost you ya fooking pissant” screamed Angelo.

Tony rested his head in his hands for a moment before hushing Angelo with his remaining hand.

“Good to see you too Angelo, how are the ballet lessons going?” Smirked Seymore.

Angelo leapt up as did Tony knocking him to the floor before Angelo could swing his bulldozer of a fist in Seymore’s face. They wrestled on the ground as Seymore sat there smirking with his ugly face at the boys rolling around on the floor. All the while Tony was yelling at Angelo to calm the fuck down.

Everyone in the room was not even bothered at all by the antics, as this was pretty typical of this bar, I mean if there wasn’t a stabbing or punch on, that would mean that something was really wrong.

Eventually the boys settled down and climbed back into the booth to begin hatching a plan on how to take down Martino.

To be continued...