MASKS PART - ONE

Note: This story begins in the early summer after Tea has called Sam from Niagara Falls.

Todd Manning was one mean s.o.b. Almost anyone in Llanview would agree. And according to the latest rumors, he'd added the title of "murderer" to his long list of sins and misdeeds. It seemed he was, and always would be, Todd the Monster- rapist, stalker, one time pathetic loser, and current social pariah. Of course, a few had claimed the ex-convict had been rehabilitated. Funny how 28.7 million dollars could do that to a man.

Sure, he'd gone straight for a while. He'd played the husband, the father, the noted newspaper publisher. But he'd never be one of the "beautiful people." He'd never fit in with the upper echelon of society. And truthfully, he'd never really tried. Social hypocrisy wasn't his forte. He'd just as soon cut through the bull---- and eat with his fingers. Why waste time with manners and etiquette? He had better things to do. Like screw over the Buchanans. Of course it was the Buchanans that got him into his current 'situation', namely one Beauford Ogilvie Buchanan. What the hell kind of name was that anyway?

It was simple. He was cursed. Always had been, always would be. And the fates had this nasty little sense of humor in the form of the Buchanans, or "The Bukes" as Todd coined them, not so affectionately. He clenched his eyes shut as he bowed his head; Todd didn't have to imagine the Bukes circling overhead, waiting for the chance to pick away at his corpse. Yeah, vultures, every damn one of 'em. And if that wasn't bad enough, Tea had betrayed him as well. At the first hint of trouble, the lying little witch had called Sammy boy, and the boys in blue scurried right along behind him to Niagara Falls.

So here he was. A few of the faces had changed, but it was still the same old pathetic game. Pin the crime on The Monster. Bo was practically wetting his pants in glee while his minion rambled on. "...cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand your rights, Mr. Manning?"

With his long mane of hair shielding his face from view, Todd's expression remained blank, and he stubbornly refused to answer. As the silence stretched on, an officer behind him stepped forward to shove a fist none to gently into Todd's spine. It was as if supercop had hit a brick wall. No reaction. Just silence. Bo opened his mouth to jerk the impatient cop in line, but before he could utter a word, both Tea and Sam jumped to the still unmoving Todd's defense.

Sam growled, "You keep that man under control and away from my client," while Tea gasped, stepped forward, and shot the rookie cop a dirty look. "Commissioner, I'm sure you don't want to find your department sued for police brutality."

At their eager beaver defense routine, Todd slid them a sidelong glance and sneered, his eyes as cold as his tone. "Buchanan, I think some one should send these ambulance chasers on their way."

Sam stepped forward, raising a hand to lay on Todd's shoulder, only to freeze at the look on his hollow face. "Todd, I'm still your lawyer...and your friend...c'mon Boomer, let me help you here."

Todd slowly straightened to his full height (he was, without a doubt, a commanding figure), his glare aimed at both Tea and Sam- full of hatred and betrayal. His voice was whisper soft and deadly enough to send chills down Tea's spine. "We're finished here. You get the hell out of my face!"

He turned to jerk away from Sam's hurt countenance and Tea's tearful gaze. Shaking his head, Sam sighed and clasped Tea's arm to lead her from the room, knowing Todd wouldn't listen. Not yet anyway. Tea paused at the threshold and sent Todd one last desperate look before leaving him alone with Bo and his merry men. Chuckling quietly at the scene, Bo looked Todd over. "The great Todd Manning finally tripped up, huh, Boomer? Ain't it a shame. I'm sure all your little girlfriends at Statesville will be happy to have you back."

Calmly, Todd let the comment slide as a slow, mirthless grin climbed into his eyes. "Tell me somethin' Beauford. Did you and Junior screw her together, or did you play proper Southern gentlemen and take turns?" The woman in question was, of course, Georgie Phillips. The red haze clouded Bo's vision, and he'd thrown a sharp, clipped punch to Todd's stomach before he could reign the temper in. Todd sucked in a raspy breath at the twinge of pain, and he crouched, his hands cuffed behind his back, and sprung forward, hard and fast to tackle Bo in return. They landed in a tangle of temper, Bo trying to shove Todd off of him as his officers scrambled to aid their commissioner. Todd drew his head back, his eyes as empty as the dead, before slamming it back down into Bo's face. He was rewarded with a pained grunt, a crunching of bone, and the spray of warm blood.

The officers attacked Todd full force, with both fists and batons. He didn't even bother trying to protect himself. His last coherent thought before the darkness enveloped him was one of anguished acceptance, a bleak surrender to the helplessness of all that he had fought for, and ultimately lost. To hell with 'em...to hell with 'em all.

TO BE CONTINUED