Timmy was dumped faced down on the dirty floorboards. He coughed dust out of his mouth and then looked up. He was in one of the grungy backrooms of the warehouse. Surrounding him were the most varied assortments of nasties he had ever seen. There wasn’t a straight nose in the room. Every man of them was covered in tattoos, scars, and scowls. The three main men were lounging around on the one sofa in the room, everyone else was dotted about standing with pints and smokes in their hands. Timmy, in the fugue of inebriation, looked at one of the men on the sofa and knew he recognised him but his brain wasn’t quite open for business at the moment. He had a clean shaven head, the shadows of a beard, and a mouth full of golden teeth. Timmy knew he was someone important from the way every head swivelled in his direction, waiting for their cue upon Timmy’s unceremonious arrival.

“Who the fuck is this?” The man asked, setting his pint down and looking curiously at Timmy. There was a vague flicker of recognition in his eyes too.

“Caught him sneaking about round the back of the warehouse, Golden,” one of the guards who had brought Timmy in grunted.

“Sneaking about? He looks about as sneaky as a hippo,” another man with a mess of black hair and a nose so bent the tip pointed at his ear.

The men guffawed as Timmy stood up and brushed himself down. Whether it was the concoction of drugs or sheer exhaustion, Timmy felt strangely unbothered by his current situation. Standing in a room full of men making fun of him wasn’t out of Timmy’s comfort zone after all.

“Who the fuck are you then?” Golden asked, his teeth glinting in the dim light.

“Me? Oh I’m… Glenn!” Timmy said excitedly as a pair of synapses finally fired in his brain reminding him of his cover story.

“Glenn?”

“Yep, that’s me name. I’m a new recruit.”

“Fuck me, they’ll let anybody in nowadays,” the bent nosed man muttered.

“Yep,” Timmy said with an odd note of pride in his voice. “Here and ready to bash up some Goblin scum.”

“Your gonna take on Toads?” Golden said, a leery grin on his face.

“Yep. Gonna… gonna smash ‘em all up.” Timmy felt lightheaded now, almost like he wasn’t the one doing the talking, as if he was just watching the conversation happen.

“Son, you ever been up close and personal with a real fuckin’ Goblin?” Golden asked him. “And I mean a real one. Not these scrawny little city Goblins, but one of the Toads from back home. Six and a half foot, weighs as much as a small horse, hits like a battering ram, tusks the size of your hands. A real Goblin.”

Timmy licked his lips, tasting the sweat.

“Well… they bleed just like anything else right?” Timmy asked. “And I know they burn too.”

The men looked around at each other and then they began chuckling. But this was unusual. They weren’t laughing at Timmy. They were laughing with him. Timmy chuckled along with them when he caught something move out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and saw a grime covered face looking back down at him.

“Wally!” he said without thinking.

“What you call me?”

The laughter stopped.

Wally lurched back in his hiding place in the rafters, ducking for cover.

“What? No… I didn’t mean… I wasn’t calling you a…” Timmy stuttered and trailed off, looking down at his shoes.

“He’s tooted up,” one of the men behind the sofa said. “Look at the size of his eyeballs. You been getting on one son?”

Timmy looked up and gave him a sheepish grin.

“I tried Slug today.”

The men burst into another round of laughter.

“Fuck me, he ain’t nothing but a little kid!”

As the men laughed, Timmy looked up where Wally had been. But he was gone. Timmy was on his own.

“Who even brought you along?” Golden asked.

“Umm… I think his name was Jerry.”

“Jerry from Oldstock road? That makes sense,” Golden said, rolling his eyes at the other men. “Go on, let him back to his fun. He ain’t no harm to anyone.” Golden waved a hand at the guards who grabbed Timmy’s collar again.

“Wait!” a voice barked from the darkness in the corner of the room.

The men turned around as a figure stepped out of the shadows. He had a bald head, a vicious scar across face, and ginger stubble. But that wasn’t what stood out. It looked like someone had recently taken a hammer to him. His face was lumpen and misshapen, his nose freshly broken, and his eyebrow was covered in stitches. Despite his malformities, Timmy's brain jolted into sudden recognition. He was Mr Edwards, the thug that had held them captive in the Landlord’s pub! And the golden toothed man had been there as well! They were the Landlord’s men! The sudden urge to vomit and urinate at the same time punched Timmy in the gut.

“What Eddy?” Golden asked.

“I recognise him,” Mr Edwards growled. One of his eyes was blackened and badly swollen from the Landlord’s brutal assault, but the other was staring right at Timmy.

“You do?” Golden said.

“Yeah…” Mr Edwards growled as he stalked towards Timmy.

Timmy tried not to squeak in fear.

“Where do I know you from?”

“Umm… I dunno… ummm… I’d recognise you if I knew you.”

“Come on Eddy, where would you know this little twerp from?” the bent nosed man asked, going back to his drink, bored with Timmy now. “Let the kid go back to his fun.”

“No,” Mr Edwards said firmly. He was standing only a foot away from Timmy. “No. I know you. I never forget a face.”

“Well I’m sort of local… some of the time. Maybe you saw me around… somewhere.”

Mr Edwards ignored him and began patting him down. He drew Timmy’s truncheon from his trousers, looked at it, then threw it to one side. He continued patting him down and then looked at his boots curiously.

“Take yer boots off.”

“What?”

“Take yer boots off,” Mr Edwards repeated, a demented gleam in his eye.

“Eddy, what is this?” Golden asked, a hard edge to his voice. “If you wanna start mugging kids, you can fuck off and do it outside.”

Mr Edwards ignored him. Timmy swallowed and slowly bent down to start untying his laces. Mr Edwards snorted and then shoved Timmy over, grabbed his boot as he fell and yanked it off his foot. Timmy hit the floor hard and looked up at them.

“This is a copper’s boot,” Mr Edwards said, turning the boot around before throwing it to Golden. “I knew I recognised him. He’s a copper.”

“What?” the bent nosed man said, rolling his eyes. “If he’s a copper, then my nan’s a Troll.”

“I’m telling you I’ve seen him. I can’t place exactly where, but I know it in me gut, he’s a copper.”

Golden looked at Timmy’s boot and then back at Mr Edwards.

“I dunno Eddy, he don’t seem like a copper to me.”

“That’s a copper’s boot!”

“It’s got laces. It’s black. Otherwise, it’s just a fucking boot.”

Mr Edwards unsheathed a knife and then advanced on Timmy.

“Gimme a couple of minutes and I’ll make him squeal.”

Just then a man came running into the room. He made a beeline for Golden and whispered frantically in his ears.

“What? Fuck off!” Golden said as he listened. “Right pack it up. We need to get back to the pub. Something’s going down!”

Golden jumped up and waved his arms at the men in the room.

“Wot?” Mr Edwards said, the knife poised above Timmy.

“You heard me! Mr Graves wants us back at the pub, now!” Golden barked at him.

“Wot about him?” Mr Edwards said, pointing the knife at Timmy.

“I dunno. Who gives a shit? Tie him or something. We’ll deal with it later!”

Mr Edwards sucked his teeth and spat on the floor before turning to the guards.

“Watch him and make sure he don’t go any fucking where before I get back. Understood?”

The guards nodded. Mr Edwards sheathed his knife and hurried out of the room. Timmy flopped back on the floor in a cold sweat.

*

Wally felt awful about leaving Timmy. But what could he do? It was a whole room of thugs. If he had jumped down there he would have just ended up in the shit with Timmy. Why did he have to go and say his name like that?

Wally cursed as he crawled along the rafters of the warehouse on his belly. He was caked from head to toe in bird droppings and filth. Despite his gnawing worry about Timmy, he had to remember the mission, why they had come here in the first place. He kept crawling on. The back of the warehouse had been divided into a little maze of ceilingless rooms. They were little more than hastily erected cubicles, but it gave Wally the perfect opportunity to skulk around the rafter looking for Hunter. He slid on his belly peering around until he found another little back room. There was another group of thugs back here but they looked more like the Human First Militia. They were young, and drunk, and all had shaved heads and fresh tattoos. There were even a few girls with them, with half shaved heads, their hair dyed all sorts of wild colours, and piercings in places Wally didn’t even know you could have pierced. They were laughing and drinking and snorting a myriad of drugs that Wally couldn’t even begin identifying. He scanned the room below, watching each face carefully, trying to figure out which one could be Hunter. As he peered around he saw a youth sitting in the corner by himself, a bottle of beer dangling loosely from his hand as he stared at nothing. There was a haunted edge to his empty expression.

“Come on Hunter, when you gonna get out there and work your magic?” A shrill young woman said, draping her arms around the youth’s narrow shoulders.

“Yeah they’re all dying to hear from the man himself!” a boy with a red mohawk cried out, sloshing beer all over the floor.

“The Goblin Slayer!” A wild eyed young man screamed, his nose covered in powder, his eyes bulging and veiny.

“The Goblin Slayer!” The others cried out, slamming their drink together and laughing.

Hunter gave them a weak smile and shrugged.

“When I feel like it,” he said.

“You should tell ‘em about the mission. Get ‘em real fired up,” the red mohawk said.

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“Yeah, I fuckin’ loooove that story!” the wild eyed boy howled. “Man I can’t believe I missed it!”

“Yeah coz you was too pussy to come along,” another youth sneered at him.

“I wasn’t! I had the squirts! You know that!”

“Well while you was shittin’ yer pants, Hunter here was taking first blood for Humans everywhere!” The red mohawk said, slapping Hunter on the shoulder proudly.

“Bet those Toads smelt lovely when they was cooking up!” the young girl cackled.

“Fucking Toad barbeque!”

They roared with laughter and clinked their bottles again while Hunter looked away sheepishly. Wally’s knuckles whitened around the beam, his teeth gritted in fury. He had to force himself not to shake, haunting images of those grasping hands flashed across his mind. And the smell. It filled his nostrils, almost making him gag.

“Next time, I’m definitely coming along!” the wild eyed boy announced, rubbing some greyish paste onto his gums, his jaw rocking back and forth while his teeth grinded audibly.

“You won’t have to wait too long,” the red mohawk said. “Tonight’s the night, ain’t that right Hunter?”

They all turned to look at him.

“Yeah,” Hunter said. “Tonight the war starts for real.”

“We’re going down to Toad Town and we’re burning the whole place to the ground!” The red mohawk howled and threw his bottle against the wall. “We’re gonna fuckin’ kill all of ‘em. Right Hunter?” He looked to his leader eagerly.

Hunter gave him the ghost of a smile.

“I’m gonna take a piss,” he said, standing up and walking out of the room while his friends continue to party and chant their slogans.

Wally quickly slithered across the beams prowling after Hunter. He watched the young man take a left and walk down a corridor, his head bowed, stumbling slightly and bumping into the walls. He got to the toilet and fumbled with the handle before finally getting it open. It was a single toilet. Perfect. This was Wally’s chance. He looked up and down the hallway and took a deep, steadying breath. From inside his jacket, he withdrew a sharp curved dagger. He looked down at it. His mouth had suddenly gone dry. He felt his breath coming quickly. He closed his eyes and saw it again. Saw the flames licking across the flesh of those trapped Goblins. He heard their screams. He opened his eyes and gripped the dagger tight.

It had to be this way. This was justice for what he did.

*

“Where do you think they’ve run off to?” Timmy asked his guards.

“Shut up. It’s none of your business!” the one with the black ponytail said. He was a thickset man but was on the wrong side of his prime. His belly had begun to sag, his arms looked more meat than muscle, and years of drinking had turned his skin yellowish and slack.

His partner was younger and fitter but definitely the dimmer of the two. He was another shaven headed ape. His eyes were just a touch too close together and he had an underbite that made it look like he was trying to swallow his own face.

“Just weird that they left you two to look after me. Doesn’t seem fair.”

“It ain’t fair,” the shaven headed ape growled.

“Shut up Pete!”

“‘S not fair, Baz,” Pete said sulkily.

“Well it’s wot we’ve been told to do, so we’re gonna do it. Unless you wanna tell that sickhead Eddy otherwise?” Pete snapped at him.

Baz stuck his lip out petulantly and they both crossed their arms and took up their positions at the door again. They hadn’t bothered to tie Timmy up. He was sitting on the sofa, his podgy legs crossed in front of him, as he tried to think through the custard like fog that was his brain. He knew he was supposed to be doing something and he knew it wasn’t supposed to be here. He knew Wally was carrying out an important part of the mission up in the rafters but what that was escaped Timmy right now. Instead, all he could think about was how thirsty he was. He was still sweating profusely even though he was sitting still, and his heart kept speeding up and slowing down. He wanted to puke again but then he was also starving. His legs were full of nervous energy but he was too exhausted to do anything about it…

“Hunter!” Timmy roared suddenly, his brain suddenly lurching back into action.

“Wah!” Baz cried out, startled by Timmy’s outburst.

“What?” Timmy asked, staring at the two guards with wild eyes.

“Why did you shout Hunter out for?” Pete asked.

“Oh, did I?”

“Yeah, nearly gimme a heart attack!”

“Oh umm… I didn’t want to miss his speech,” Timmy stammered, licking a bead of sweat from the corner of his mouth as his mind raced.

He was here to arrest Hunter! Wally was crawling across the rafters in pursuit of him. He, Timmy, had ingested an unfathomable amount of alcohol and mystery substances. He had been caught trying to sneak in and he was now being detained by these two oafs. He needed to escape, track down Hunter, arrest him, and get him back to police HQ!

“Wot?” Pete said, staring at Timmy.

“What?” Timmy replied.

“Did he just call us oafs?” Baz asked.

“Wot d’yer mean arrest Hunter? You are a copper!” Pete said, pointing his finger at Timmy.

“Oh… did I say all of that out loud?”

Pete leapt for Timmy, but for the first time in his life, Timmy was quicker. He grabbed an overflowing ashtray from the table next to him and flung its contents into Pete’s eyes. Ash and cigarette butts flew in a cancerous cascade. Pete recoiled and wretched, clawing at his eyes and spitting butts out of his mouth. Timmy whirled and flung the heavy ash tray like a discus at Baz as he began charging. The ashtray caught him between the eyes and there was clicking noise as the bridge of his nose snapped. Baz stumbled blindly, tripped over the small coffee table and slammed his head into the floor hard enough to make his head bounce. Pete flailed wildly at Timmy, still blinded by ash. Timmy stumbled backwards and went over the sofa to avoid his grasp. He hit the floor, looked around and saw his truncheon. Timmy grabbed it and rolled to his feet.

THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!

Pete collapsed on top of Baz unconscious. Timmy smirked triumphantly, then proceeded to vomit up the remaining bile in his stomach. He bent over double and wretched.

“Oh, I’m going to die,” Timmy murmured, his head swimming. “Wally! I’m coming!”

Timmy groaned and wheeled himself around. The room lurched from side to side as his eyes watered. It took him four attempts but he finally managed to slip his truncheon back through his belt and open the door. He had to find Wally and bring Hunter to justice!

*

Wally stared at Hunter, his nostrils flared and his heart thudding in his chest. He gripped the knife and tried to swallow. Hunter was standing in front of a cracked mirror at the basin with his back to Wally. He hadn’t moved in some time, other than a slight quiver in his shoulders. Wally watched him, allowing hate to engulf him, willing it to. He needed naked bloodlust, unthinking, unfeeling wrath. His breath quickened. He thought of the fire. He remembered the screams. He saw the hands clawing for freedom. He remembered the ache of feeling like he could do nothing but watch.

Before he knew it, his body had moved. He uncoiled from the beam hanging as low as he could before letting go and dropping into the bathroom behind Hunter. The drums and roaring chants from the rally were still so loud that they drowned out the sound of Wally’s feet hitting the bathroom. Hunter continued to stare into the basin. Wally noticed now that his knuckles were white. He was gripping the basin so hard his arms and shoulders trembled. Waly levelled the knife. Hunter looked up into the cracked mirror and saw Wally behind him. He cried out and spun in surprise.

“Wah! Who are you! What do you want!” Hunter stumbled back, one hand outstretched to protect himself, the other scrubbing at his eyes.

Wally faltered for a second, the blade still raised. Why was Hunter crying?

“Who are you?” Hunter said again as he backed into the corner of the room, Wally standing between him and the door, his eyes fixed on the quivering tip of the knife.

“I’m… I’m… ‘ere to bring you to justice!” Wally growled, his face cast in shadows from the hood of his cloak.

“Oh,” Hunter said.

His shoulders sagged and the panic left him.

“You’re an evil bastard! And-and you need to be stopped!” Wally continued, letting the well of rage build up again. “You’re a murdering, fuckin’, asshole, bastard! And-and I’m gonna-gonna make sure you don’t ever ‘urt no one again!”

Hunter's face scrunched up and he burst into tears. Sobs escaped his mouth as he stared at nothing. Slowly, he nodded his head, snot dripping down his lip.

“Why you crying for?” Wally snapped at him. “You was a big brave man when you murdered them Goblins! Take yer punishment like a man!”

Hunter nodded again and forced himself to stand up straight, still not making eye contact with Wally. He hung his head and let tears drip onto the floor.

“I didn’t know,” he said quietly.

“Wot?”

“I didn’t mean to…” Hunter whispered. “It was all just talk and then… then we started on the Slug and drinking and next thing I knew we was in a cart going to Goblin Town. I never knew anyone was in there… we just panicked and threw a couple firebombs and ran. We didn’t know they was living above the shop. It was supposed to be empty.” Fresh sobs cut him off. He buried his face in his hands and slid down the wall until he was sitting.

Wally looked at him with disgust and confusion.

“You killed those Goblins!” he roared at him. “You fucking burned them alive and you wanna sit there and cry now!”

“I’m sorry!” Hunter wept. “I didn’t…”

“Wot? Wot? It was a accident?” Wally snarled at him, jabbing the knife forward. “Wot? You didn’t know setting fires would kill somebody? Wot?” Wally was screaming at him now.

Hunter looked at him wordlessly.

“And then you wanna run around bragging about it! You animal! Think you’re a big man now, coz you murdered a whole innocent family?”

“No!” Hunter wailed.

“There was a little baby in there!” Wally’s own eyes filled with tears. “A little baby that did nuffin’ to no one! Little kids! Wot did they do? Huh? Wot had they ever done to anyone? But you lot wanted to be big men and you burned them! I saw it! I heard the screaming! I watched the flames take ‘em! You fuckin’ animal!”

Rage filled Wally’s soul. Vengeful, violent rage burned through his body. He gripped the knife tight, his body coiled, ready to spring, a snarl of hatred contorting his features..

“Wally! What are you doing?”

Wally turned and saw Timmy standing there, pink faced, sweating profusely.

“Timmy, wot are you doin’ ‘ere! You shouldn’t see this!”

“I shouldn’t see what, Wally?” Timmy asked him slowly.

“Just-just leave Timmy! Go! Let me take care of this scumbag!” Wally was breathing hard now, sweat pouring down his body.

“Come on Wally,” Timmy said, taking a step towards him. “This isn’t what we’re here…”

“Enough Tim!” Wally snarled, turning the knife on Timmy. “Enough! Enough of the justice bollocks! Ain’t you seen by now? Ain’t you seen it’s all a load of shit! Scum like this get away with it every day! The only answer is the permanent one!”

“Wally you can’t…”

“He’s right,” Hunter said quietly. “It’s what I deserve.”

Timmy and Wally both looked at Hunter. He wasn’t anything like Timmy imagined him to be. He wasn’t some snarling, ideologue, spouting hate and inciting violence. He was just a scrawny kid. He looked no older than them and he was terrified. Worse than that, he looked so utterly defeated.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Hunter whispered, tears dripping from his chin as he stared at the floor. “It happened so quick. One minute it was just all words and then the next… And ever since everyone wanted to make me into some sort of hero. I’m not. I’m a monster. I k-killed those creatures. Burned them in their own beds… those little kids…” he broke into fresh sobs and pulled his knees close to himself. “Please… do it. I can’t… I can’t live with it anymore. Just end it.”

Wally looked at him, he felt his rage ebb, the knife point wavered in his hands.

“Wally, we’re police officers, this isn’t right. Whatever he’s done…”

“Whatever he’s done!” Wally howled at him. “Whatever he’s done? He murdered a whole family! Burned them to death! Burned a little baby alive! While we sat in a fuckin’ cafe with our feet up ‘avin’ a pint! Because I wasn’t doin’ my job! Because I never took the responsibility serious! Because of me that family died!” Hot tears burned down Wally’s cheeks. The words choked him. It was the first time either of them had spoken the unsaid truth that ached them deep in their souls. Hunter may have lit the fire but what were they doing at the time? They were supposed to be patrolling the area. They knew how tense things were. Yet, they had chosen to hide away and have a drink. Would the sight of patrolling officers have been enough to deter them? Would that family still be alive if they had done their duty? Those questions haunted them.

Tears stung Timmy’s eyes. He looked from Hunter, to the knife, to Wally.

“It’s because of us that family died!” Wally spat at him. “And now I’m gonna make it right!”

“By becoming a murderer?” Timmy asked him in a quiet voice.

“By ridding the world of this scumbag!”

“So the world would lose one evil man and gain another?”

“Wot?”

“You kill him and the world is worse for it. We still got the same amount of murderers but one less good man.”

Wally blinked.

“I ain’t a good man.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not! You don’t know nuffin’ about me Tim! You don’t know what I done or what I can do!”

“I know you’re not a murderer. I know you’re a good copper. You come all this way, Wally. You done all this, put yourself in harm’s way to protect innocent people. And you haven’t done it because some officer told you to. You haven’t done it to get a promotion or your name in the paper. You’ve done it because it’s the right thing to do. And I know you’re a good friend. You’ve had my back and you’ve never made fun of me or mocked me to make yourself feel bigger. If you ain’t a good man yet, then you will be one day. But if you do this, there won’t be no coming back from it.”

The knife trembled in Wally’s hand.

“Killing him won’t change what happened. We have to live with it, we have to live with the responsibility of those Goblins’ lives on our hands. Please Wally. I don’t want to lose my only friend.”

The knife clattered from Wally’s nerveless fingers. Fresh tears streamed down his face.

“Tim… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Timmy said, patting his friend’s trembling shoulder. “We’re all a bit out of sorts today.”

Hunter looked at the knife and then up at them.

“You’re not going to kill me?”

“No. We’re going to arrest you,” Timmy said firmly. “Wally, you do the honours.”

Wally nodded, sniffed, and wiped his face on his sleeve.

“‘Unter… whatever your surname is. I, Corporal Washbottom, am arresting you for…”

“Arson,” Timmy whispered.

“Arson and the murder of a Goblin family. You’re nicked, mate.”

“Well done,” Timmy said. “Is that a toilet?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank goodness.” Timmy bent over the bowl and wretched. “Where does it keep coming from?” he moaned.

Once Timmy was done expelling a few squirts of bile from his painfully empty stomach, they hauled Hunter up and led him through the back of the warehouse. He didn’t resist. He kept his eyes on the floor and stumbled like a man in a dream as they went through the room with the still unconscious guards.

“Wot ‘appened to them?” Wally asked.

“They messed with Corporal Edgewater,” Timmy said proudly.

“Nice! You kicked shit out of them!”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You’re a badass, Tim.”

Once outside the warehouse there was a single horse and carriage left. They bundled Hunter in and then instructed the driver to take them back to the city. They sat in the carriage with Hunter between them. He stared down at his hands.

“Will… will this make it alright?” Hunter asked Timmy quietly.

“I don’t know.” Timmy answered truthfully. “But at least it’s an attempt at doing the right thing.”

Hunter nodded and sat back with his eyes closed. Timmy looked past him to Wally who was staring out of the window up at the moonlight, a tear rolling down his cheek. Timmy slumped back and closed his eyes, merciful unconsciousness taking him straight to oblivion.