Vigilantes

For three days, Billie Joe Armstrong was entirely consumed by the scrupulous planning of murder. He was glued to a notebook, frantically scribbling every possible outcome, every possible flaw. With the help of Scarlett, though, his plan could not fail. He knew every detail of the dingy apartment Nate called home, knew exactly how much heroin needed to be injected to kill him, and most importantly, Billie knew just how to go about in killing him…it would be all too simple. Best of all, if Billie’s meticulous plans succeeded, he would not get caught. The person to find Nate’s body would pass it off as just another overdose, no investigations necessary. With this in mind, Billie grew impatient. Later that night, after Mike is safely asleep beside him, he would sneak out of his own home to kill the rapist. If all went as planned, Billie would even be able to return and surreptitiously sneak back into bed without a soul noticing his absence. Better still, if the police had any reason to suspect foul play, Mike would be able to alibi him in saying that Billie had been asleep next to him the entire night.

There was only one small aspect of the plan that bothered Billie, for when he confronted his son about knowing that Scarlett didn’t give him gonorrhea, Joey became irate. He ranted and raved, first about Scarlett, then about his father being a nosy prick. Finally, Joey was reduced to tears when Billie came right out and asked his son who was hurting him. The boy refused to speak. Billie pressed the issue further, and his son began to shake. At last, when Billie asked if Nate was the culprit, Joey screamed that his father was hopeless and ran hysterically from the room. In all honesty, Billie wasn’t sure what to make of it. Perhaps what Nate did to his son left Joey so severely shaken that any mention of him pushed the boy over the edge…or…perhaps it wasn’t Nate.

Billie didn’t care. Even if it wasn’t Nate, he was still going to kill the bastard. He couldn’t let him get away with perpetually raping a fourteen year old, leaving her to forever fear whether he was finished with her or if he was going to continue coming back for more. The thought made Billie physically ill.

“Billie, what’s wrong?”

Billie’s eyes snapped up from his notebook, landing upon Mike’s concerned blue orbs. He was unable to contain the look of impatience that snuck unwanted onto his face, which simply caused Mike to pursue the subject further.

“You’ve been glued to that thing for three days. Are you writing new music already, or-”

“Leave it,” Billie snapped, his voice cold…inhuman.

Mike’s eyes widened, not used to his boyfriend being so short with him.

“I can’t, Beej. Seeing you like this…it’s scaring me, and I’m damn sure it’s scaring your boys, too.”

“I’m fine, Michael, leave me the fuck alone,” Billie hissed, returning to madly scribbling into his opus.

“Stop being so goddamn immature. You don’t have to suffer through everything alone…I’m here for you.”

“Yeah? Well, show me.”

Billie set his notebook aside to stare down his lover, to challenge him. Little did Mike know that this was merely a part of Billie’s charade for exhausting him, ensuring that Billie could sneak out without waking the man next to him. Thinking that Billie was finally giving in, Mike accepted the challenge deviously. The taller man sauntered seductively into the lap of the smaller, placing an affectionate kiss on his lips. When Mike pulled away, Billie pretended to remain unconvinced.

“I still don’t see your point,” he hummed, waiting for Mike to make his move.

Right on cue, Mike’s lips attacked Billie’s. His hands tugged playfully at his hair before travelling to more sensitive areas of Billie’s body, squeezing enough to arouse him. Billie urged him on, but after a while, Mike pulled away again.

“Why’d you stop?!” Billie cried, disappointed and fearful that his plan might not work.

“I thought we weren’t going to do this for a while,” Mike panted sheepishly. “I mean, I thought we were going to wait until the gonorrhea was out of our systems…”

“Fuck that, we’re on the medication…and I can’t wait that long,” Billie growled impatiently.

“Alright…but let’s not do this here,” Mike decided, proceeding to scoop Billie up in his arms. Billie squealed in spite of himself, thoroughly enjoying this particularly sexy part of his pretense.

Mike carried his giggling partner up to their room, and threw him mischievously on the bed. The pair of them pawed at each other, Billie making sure the foreplay was long and rough. Before long, they were making love, moaning each other’s names and screaming in ecstasy. Their sweat soaked bodies moved faster and harder than ever before, which was all secretly part of Billie’s plan. When they were both satisfied, it took only minutes for Mike to fall asleep with his lover curled silently beside him. Billie wasn’t nearly as tired…his edginess for the murder having a drug-like effect on his psyche by keeping him alert and focused. All that was left for him to do was wait an hour or so, giving Mike optimal time to fall into a deep slumber.

After a half hour, Billie couldn’t take it anymore. He had to leave. Mike’s snoring was enough of an indication that he wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, so as gently as he could, Billie crawled out of his bed and began searching for random articles of clothing to wear as well as supplies he would need. He knew for certain that he would need to be wearing gloves as to not leave any fingerprints anywhere in the apartment, but in his haste to get going, Billie forgot to bring or hide his planning notebook.

It took Billie all of twenty minutes to walk to Nate’s apartment building, feeling as if driving was too much of a risk in case anyone spotted his car. Having the perimeters of the building completely memorized, Billie knew that Nate’s apartment would be on the left side, ground floor. Apartment number 6…not that it mattered, though. He wouldn’t be entering through the front door…that would make it all too easy for Nate to defend himself. After the conversation with Scarlett, Billie recognized the fact that the junkie often times left his window open in the summer and was usually too high to remember to close it or lock it. As Billie came to the proper window, he smirked. It was, indeed, open.

“Stupid fuck,” he muttered as he hoisted his petite body through the window, landing noiselessly on the linoleum tiled floor beneath him.

All at once, a predator-like instinct heightened Billie’s senses. Every sound seemed exaggerated; the smallest amount of light seemed to illuminate the entire apartment. He then recalled that Nate’s bedroom would be the first door in the short hallway to the left, and the spot where he hid his heroin was in the bathroom medicine cabinet. Not a very creative hiding spot, but it was what one would expect from a lethargic teenager. Billie advanced into what he knew was the kitchen and headed straight into the room directly in from of him: the bathroom. He wasn’t worried at all that Nate would hear him, for Scarlett told Billie that he would be sleeping, and that it took a fucking commotion to wake his ass up. He closed the door soundlessly behind him and flicked the light switch. Unsurprisingly, no light came on.

“Didn’t pay the electrical, hm?” Billie whispered aloud, rummaging through the small bag he packed for a flashlight. Upon finding the object, he used it to find the medicine cabinet and poke around in it, praying it didn’t take too long to find the heroin. Within seconds, Billie’s hand collided with a needle, and the heroin wasn’t far from it. He took the needle and carefully filled it with the amount he and Scarlett previously discussed, though settled on putting in a little extra just to be safe. He didn’t want to take any chances of the rapist surviving the dosage.

With the needle grasped firmly in a gloved hand and his flashlight safely tucked away in his bag, Billie exited the bathroom and proceeded to the room which held the unconscious Nate. The door was left slightly ajar, so Billie peered inside before entering. He saw nothing moving and felt it safe to enter.

Nate was on his back, sprawled out on a lone mattress on the floor. His breathing was shallow and even, with an occasional snore or grunt escaping his lips. A small strip of moonlight shone through the window above Nate, revealing the left side of his body enough so that Billie could see the track marks all over his arm. Having no desire to waste time, Billie approached the sleeping form, lightly picking up Nate’s right hand to place the needle in it. Nate trembled faintly but did not stir. Then, using Nate’s own right hand, Billie injected the heroin into the left arm.

When Nate began to wake up, Billie was fully prepared. His eyes flashed open, and as he thrashed about, his efforts of escape were thwarted by Billie, who was now completely on top of Nate, pinning him down. The junkie reeked of sweat and body odor, as if he hadn’t bothered to shower in weeks. Billie felt the urge to vomit at the sheer smell of him but miraculously controlled the impulse.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Nate spluttered, the effects of the heroin already slowing his movements.

“Doesn’t matter,” Billie grunted.

It was astounding to Billie how rapidly the heroin reached Nate’s entire system, for the teen fought back less and less until he became a useless, twitching blob beneath Billie. His breathing turned sluggish and uneven as his lungs struggled to draw breath. His eyes, though distant, held a spark of fear in them, and his pupils had grown so small that Billie could barely see them. It wasn’t long before his muscle spasms subsided, allowing his body to slip away into a drug induced coma. As soon as his eyes slid shut, Billie removed himself from the junkie, once again placing the needle in his right hand to make the illusion of a drug overdose more conceivable.

It took several minutes for Nate’s breathing to stop altogether. As soon as it did, Billie checked his pulse. It was very faint, but it was still there. Billie knew it wouldn’t be long now…a person could only survive so long without oxygen. With a final twitch, Nate laid still, his pulse nonexistent. Standing before the dead rapist, Billie grew painfully aware of the fact that he was now a murderer.