Chapter Text
This is not a test. This is your Emergency Broadcast System announcing the commencement of the annual Purge, sanctioned by the U.S. government. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. All other weapons are restricted.
Government officials ranking 10 have been granted immunity and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 AM, when the Purge concludes.
--
Neil knew what Jeremy Knox wanted to do. Sweet, sunshine, too-pure-for-the-world Jeremy Knox. Foolish, idealistic, perfect Jeremy Knox.
Stupid-enough-to-run-against-incumbent-Riko-Moriyama Jeremy Knox.
Neil knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to end the Purge. To end the massacres, the violence, the senseless tragedies littering the streets the day after. It was a noble effort, it really was.
But Neil knew what evil was like. What it tasted like - blood filling his mouth and knives slashing through tender skin and smiles in the face of suffocation. What it looked like - ice blue eyes, thin smiles, black masks. And he knew that evil - it had existed long before the Purge had. It passed from human to human like a stupid game of telephone, getting warped more and more along the way. And there was no way to get rid of it.
But this whole thing right then was about Jeremy Knox. Actually-makes-a-lot-of-sense Jeremy Knox.
So-Riko-will-pay-you-to-kill-him Jeremy Knox.
Assassins like Neil didn’t need the Purge in the first place. It only made their jobs easier.
Somewhat easier.
Or maybe not at fucking all.
--
The night Riko Moriyama showed up at their doorstep was the strangest night of Neil's life.
The Secret Service agents crowded their dimly lit kitchen table. Riko sat in one of their chairs like it was a throne in his Oval Office, one leg crossed over the other as his watch reflected the light maliciously against the plain walls. Neil sat directly across from him, doing everything in his power not to fidget as his father pulled out a chair and sat down next to him. The glare he shot Neil out of the corner of his eye as he did so said only one thing.
Not a word.
For a long minute, everything was silent. The only noise came from the kettle on the stove, blowing out little tendrils of steam until one of the agents moved over and switched it off. Then all Neil could hear was his rabbit heart - pounding, pounding, pounding.
Finally, his father was the first one to move. He leaned forward, clearing his throat. Neil had never seen him as unsure as he was just then.
"President Moriyama," he said quietly. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you here?"
Riko's dark eyes scanned the room, like he was meticulously picking apart everything he saw. Neil couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine when Riko's gaze landed on him. It was too - he didn't know. Hungry.
It wasn't a starving kind of glint. It was the type of hunger that burned deep in the belly long after it had been satiated. The type of hunger that rotted the heart and ate fleshy humanity alive.
Neil looked away quickly, and a slow smile spread across Riko's pale face.
"You are the Butchers of Baltimore, are you not?" he asked in lieu of actually answering Nathan. Neil clenched his fists, digging his nails harshly into his palms as his father nodded affirmation.
Suddenly, Riko sat up. He pointed toward a spot on Nathan's neck.
"Tell me, what does that say?"
"宰杀," Nathan answered dutifully. "Butcher."
"You aren't subtle. I like that." Riko pursed his lips, tapping his fingers against his temple. "However, I will need you to be very, very quiet about what I'm about to tell you."
Before either of them could say anything, the President turned around, beckoning toward one of his agents to step forward. The man approached them, before reaching a gloved hand into his suit and pulling out a small case. Riko took it from him and set it on the table, sighing almost blissfully.
"I need you to do me a favor," he said.
Nathan paused. He stared at the case like it might explode. "What is it?"
Neil struggled not to twitch as Riko reached forward, unbuckling the case and carefully opening it up. Despite everything in his will, Neil couldn't help but gasp quietly when Riko revealed the prize inside.
Bundles upon bundles of cash.
"It's a million," Riko said after a tense pause. "I want you to kill Jeremy Knox."
Nathan's head snapped up. Riko grinned toothily. "You know," he continued, "I never really thought that rat would be a problem for me. The people love me. But Knox...he's getting a little too noisy for me. A little too confident. Perhaps a little too believable." Then the man's smile fell away, and for a split second, Neil swore he could see raw darkness oozing through the cracks in his mask.
Then the moment was over, and Riko took back the case. "I need you to kill him before elections start. Luckily for us, they are right after the Purge. It'll be the perfect opportunity for you."
"We know how to clean up," Nathan said dryly, though Neil caught the way he eyed the money.
"I know. But just to make it easier for you." Riko smiled, tongue flicking out like a snake. "And to make it a little more meaningful for me."
Neil pressed his back against the chair, silently inhaling in a fruitless effort to calm his racing heart. His father's face shuttered off as he mulled over the offer, before his brows drew together and he straightened up.
"We will do it."
"Thank you." Riko's expression was falsely sweet as he handed the case back to the agent. "Do not let me down."
"We won't."
And it was over. Neil closed his eyes briefly, counting to ten in English, then Chinese, then German. When he opened them again, his father had left - probably to fetch something to officiate their agreement - and Riko was staring straight at him.
"You've been awfully quiet," he observed calmly. Neil bit his lip and dipped his head in what he hoped looked respectful enough. "You look just like your father."
Neil forced himself to make eye contact. "Thank you," he said quietly.
"Which one of you is better, you or him?" Riko asked.
"I don't know."
"So modest. Unfortunately, that also makes you so boring." Riko made to stand up, combing his fingers through his hair and adjusting his tie. "I admire you all the same. You will be doing the country a great favor if you pull this off."
Neil stood up too. He didn't know what made him speak again just then, but the words left his mouth before he could think them through.
"Sir," he said. Riko paused, then turned around.
"Yes."
"What about a fair election?" Neil almost took an instinctive step back when Riko began smiling again, as soon as he processed Neil's question. He knew that kind of smile. It meant death, and it meant punishment. It was everything cold and malicious and cunning that a smile wasn't supposed to be.
"Elections have never been fair, junior." He tilted his head to the side. "It's all for the Purge."
--
Blessed be our new founding fathers and America, a nation reborn.
May God be with you all.