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 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge 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 until 7 a.m., when The Purge concludes. Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn. May God be with you all."
Every year it’d been the same.
If you’d asked Jack before the move from Ireland to America what he knew about America’s annual Purge, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you much. He’d known the basics, sure. All crime is legal. You can do whatever you want without getting arrested. It was one thing to hear it-it was a whole other to see it.
When telling anyone his reasons behind the move, Jack would simply say he’d done it for college. More opportunities, better careers. The truth was he’d been lonely. His family had lived close and the people in the small community were all friendly enough. Yet, all that vast wilderness and nights spent alone with a cup of coffee and his computer had him wishing for more. For something bigger.
The internet seemed like his only friend.
Keeping in contact with people online was his only saving grace-it kept him sane when the only sound for miles was his own breathing and the occasional hoot of an owl. Most of the people he talked to just so happen to live in America. So, Jack came up with a seemingly brilliant plan. He’d move to America and go to college there, make new friends, meet the ones he’d talked to online and hope they had a connection in person, as well.
And that’s just what he did.
He moved to Los Angeles and started college that August. It was surprisingly easy to leave his family and old place behind-to start over in another country. He still kept in contact with them through phone calls and Skype. It wasn’t until around the beginning of March that he even started to hear talk about The Purge. He’d heard of it before, of course and sometimes he’d hear someone mention something about it, but mostly it seemed to be a subject left unspoken. Not quite a secret, but something you didn’t go into great detail about.
“The Purge does so much good for us.” A student would comment in passing.
“My father loves to celebrate The Purge.” Another would admit proudly to their friends.
“Everyone will be safe on campus.” The teachers would remind. “If you leave campus, you’re on your own.”
It wasn’t until after his first Purge in America that Jack realized his American friends online didn’t have it as good as he originally thought.
March 21st arrived with a bang. Bouquets of blue flowers cropped up all over campus and the radio stations got weird. Jack tended to avoid news stations and the like, so he didn’t understand just how weird until he got to class.
“Safe night everyone.” His first teacher ended the class with. Every teacher after said the same.
One student asked his math professor if he would be participating in The Purge. Mr. Dudley had given a big grin and nodded. “Of course. It is my right as an American to Purge.” Some students had laughed and agreed, others had just looked down quietly. Something about the sentence and the look in his professor’s eyes gave Jack the willies.
“Safe night.” People on the street said to him as he walked to the pharmacy for groceries. He’d nodded back, brow furrowed in confusion.
It’d been his first Purge. He hadn’t understood then the importance of not being out past curfew until too late. He’d dawdled too much on the walk home, checking his phone, shuffling his feet.
He hadn’t truly understood his mistake until the screaming started.
He’d made it through the night by hiding under a large dumpster until well past 7 AM. The things he saw and heard that night haunted him and kept him terrified of people for a long time after.
It’d been a few years since his first Purge. He was still terrified. But Jack didn’t let it paralyze him anymore.
~
“Just be safe, Mark.” His mom said into the phone and through the receiver he could hear her spoon clinking against the inside of her bowl while she stirred, in the middle of making diner. “I worry about you in the city, love.”
“I’ll be fine, mom.” He smiled fondly, eyes on his computer screen from his place at his desk. “I’ll lock down the house and keep quiet. I’m in a good neighborhood, most of my neighbors are against The Purge.”
“I just don’t like you being alone.”
“Mom, really, I’ll be fine. Besides, Tyler and Ethan are here, too, remember?” The last sentence was a lie, unfortunately. Both of his friends had gone to stay with their families for the week, but he wouldn’t tell his mother that. It would just make her worry all night about him, which was senseless. The only plans he had was to go to work, walk home, lock down the house, and sleep in the closet with a baseball bat tucked close to his chest. He’d be completely fine.
“Okay, Mark.” His Mom sighed into the phone receiver and the sound of her stirring stopped. “Be careful, please. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom. Safe night.”
“Safe night, sweetheart.”
After hanging up, Mark started getting ready for work. He really wished he’d asked off for today, but money was money. His boss probably wouldn’t have allowed it anyway seeing as how he’d been the only employee dumb enough not to ask off. You’re only working 12 to 6 tonight. You’re going to be home with plenty of time before The Purge. At least his boss had been smart enough to close down the shop early tonight.
“Where you going, dear?” His neighbor, Mrs. Wendell asked in concern when she saw him leaving. She was a sweet old lady with brightly-dyed, red hair and usually seen wearing old, clunky jewelry. Today she had on a giant sun bonnet while she worked in her garden, a glass jar of sweet tea setting next to her on one of the stones from her walkway.
“I’ve got to go to work, Mrs. Wendell.” He said politely, giving her a friendly smile as he slowed to a stop on the sidewalk, despite the fact that he might be late. All of his neighbors were terribly nice and older, constantly worrying over him and his friends and he just couldn’t bring himself to mind the attention.
Her sweet, old face wrinkled into a frown and she set her small garden hoe down next to her, wiping her hands off on her work pants. “What do you mean you’re going to work, Mr. Fischbach? Don’t you remember what day it is?”
“I do.” He chuckled. “No worries, ma’am, the shop closes up early tonight. I’ll have plenty of time to get back home.”
“I still don’t like it, dear.” She shook her head. “You should just call in. You could spend the night with me, if you’d like. After Harold died, I used the money I got to reinforce everything. I could use the company.”
The offer was extremely generous and it actually sounded quite pleasant. The thought of being somewhere safe for the night and not alone was too good to pass up. “I do have to go to work, Mrs. Wendell. But, if you don’t mind, when I get off I’d love to take you up on that.”
She still seemed unhappy, but she gave a small smile and nodded. “Fine. But, you make sure you make it back safe, you hear me?”
“Yes ma’am. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Until tonight, Mr. Fischbach.”
He was five minutes late to work, but it was worth it. His manager left as soon as he arrived, leaving him alone in the mechanic shop. A vase of blue Baptisias sat in the window in view for everyone walking along the street. It made Mark a little ill.
All sorts dropped in for pickups and last minute shopping. Young teenagers browsing the hardware, laughing with their friends as they picked up hammers and wrenches and swung them around like a bat. An old couple smiling as they carefully selected chains. The worst came in around forty minutes to closing time.
An older man, maybe in his early fifties with large shoulders and an athletic build took the flowers as a reason to talk all about his previous Purges. He had a crew cut and dark eyes that he used to watch Mark with slyly as he went into disgusting details. And Mark just had to listen. All because his country had made it legal and perfectly fine to rape and murder for one night a year.
“I released the beast.” The pig laughed. “Bitches had it coming. I never forget. Keep a list of all the skanks I’m gonna gank on my night to Purge.” He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes at Mark. Mark pretended not to see as he rang up the man’s order and bagged it. (Duct tape, saw blades, zip ties, and bolt cutters. And of course, a pack of spearmint gum. Because it was important to stay fresh on Purge night.) “Just doing some last minute shopping for tonight.” He’d said when he put it on the counter.
“Aye. Why don’t you get the fuck on with it, then and quit bugging him?” A heavily accented voice said, startling both the man and Mark. The older man turned slowly, face pulled into a dangerous snarl. There, behind him was a smaller man, though he only looked smaller compared to the other guy. Next to Mark, they would be about the same size, though the Irishman was slightly leaner. His eyes were a shocking blue and his hair was dyed an electric green on top. He stood calmly with his hands in his jeans, the hood of his loose jacket pulled up to where just the bright green of his bangs showed.
“What the fuck did you say, you little shit?” The larger man growled. Mark’s fingers twitched nervously. There was a handgun taped to the underside of the counter, but he’d only shot someone once before. It wasn’t something he wanted a repeat of. But he couldn’t let his savior-his stupid-ass savior- get beat to death because he was too afraid.
His savior didn’t look afraid or even the slightest bit uncomfortable. “I said leave him be, you nasty fucker. Take your shit and go before I give you a Purge you’ll never forget.” He snapped, lip pulling back into a wicked smile.
The man took a step towards the Irishman and Mark reached for the gun. Both actions were halted by the sound of a horn being blared from outside. Everyone but the Irishman looked. Outside was a large, heavily armored, black van with green eyeballs decorating the side doors. An impatient looking man with a beard sat behind the wheel, an AK47 propped up and aimed their way.
“I think it’d be in your best interest to just do what I say. My friend is a little trigger happy this close to Purging time.”
For a second, Mark thought the man was going to ignore the gun and obvious threat as he stared down the shorter man in front of him. Finally, with a hateful scoff, he grabbed his bags and shoved past the man to the door, stomping like a giant child after being scolded.
“Hey.” The Irishman said after the shop door closed behind the man and Mark jumped a little, removing his hand somewhat guiltily from under the counter. “You okay, man?”
“I’m-yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Mark said, breathing deep. His hands were shaking from where he held them by his side. “Thank you. Really, thanks so much, but you didn’t have to do that. You could’ve gotten hurt.”
The man scoffed, eyes crinkling in amusement. He stepped closer to the counter, setting his items on it in front of Mark. Nails, lots and lots of nails and body padding. “I’ve got some special ordered gun vests in the back, too.” Really, Mark should’ve known. Another strong believer of America’s annual Purge. “And I know I didn’t have to. But the way that slime was staring at you didn’t bode well for me.”
“Last name?” Mark asked coolly. This was why you don’t trust people. Sure, his savior might’ve helped him with the man, but it was obvious by the armored vehicle outside and his gun-toting friend that he wasn’t the type to hide away at home until Purging hours were over. Did he and his friends go out hunting? Searching out homeless veterans and people unlucky enough to be caught outside?
“Mcloughlin.” He was still smiling, blue eyes friendly as they watched Mark move towards the back. “My name is Jack Mcloughlin.”
Mark nodded and went into the back room to look through their orders. Jack. It suited the stranger somehow. The crate storing the vests was heavy and he brought it back up to the front counter, lifting it and setting it on top with a grunt. “There ya’ go. You gonna be able to carry that to your van with everything?” He started ringing everything up, putting the nails and other items into a bag.
“I’ll make it, thanks.” Jack laughed. “So, what’s your name?”
Mark stopped, hand on the cash register as his cheeks heated. “My name’s Mark.” He said softly and he had to physically stop himself from nervously reaching up to run his hands through his dark hair. You’re not a girl, Markimoo. You will not fix your hair and you will stop biting your lip!
“Nice to meet you, Mark.” Jack said, his mouth spreading into a pleased grin. With red, burning cheeks and his stomach fluttering uncomfortably, Mark finished ringing up the man’s items. He read out the total, struggling not to wince. The amount was more than his rent. Customized, tactical vests were pricey. Jack whipped a wad of cash without blinking and counted into Mark’s palm, fingers grazing his hand with every bill. You’re biting your lip again, idiot.
It wasn’t until handing Jack his receipt that he realized he didn’t want this interesting stranger to leave. Which was silly, he didn’t know this man. “It was nice to meet you, Jack.” He said with a small smile. “Thank you again.”
“Of course.” Jack grinned back, hefting the crate up, bags hanging over his arms. He held it with surprising ease. “It was nice to meet you too, Mark.” The smile slipped from his face and Mark blinked in shock from the sudden intense look in Jack’s blue eyes. “Stay safe tonight.”
“You too.” He said, just as serious as he threw a glance towards the van parked outside. “I hope you stay safe, too.”
With a last parting grin, Jack left, the cow bell on the shop door jangling loudly as it closed behind him. Mark watched him walk up to the side of the van, the door sliding open to reveal another young man in the back with blonde hair and a sly smirk as he took the crate from Jack so the Irishman could climb in. The door slid shut behind them. The man with the gun in front threw Mark a peace sign just before pulling away.
~
The sky wasn’t dark, yet, thankfully when Mark started shutting the shop down. Every time he passed by the vase of blue flowers as he fluttered about shelving misplaced items and flicking off lights, he thought about tossing them. In the end, he decided to leave them up in the window, because no matter his opinion, they would hopefully make vandalizers think twice before they broke into the place. Either that, or they would see the Baptisias as an invitation to take whatever they wanted in the name of the Purge.
Finally, with everything done for the night and his watch officially reading six, he flipped the sign on the door to closed, grabbing his keys and the trash before heading out. Glancing around cautiously, he locked the front door and set the alarm, taking in the already empty streets. It made him feel anxious, even though he knew he still had plenty of time to get home. Everyone not participating in tonight was probably already at home, checking defenses and hoping they hadn’t done anything to piss someone off during the year.
The alley that the dumpster was in was shrouded in shadows and too many dark corners for comfort, nestled in between the mechanic shop and the accounting building next door. He stepped into it hesitantly, pausing at the mouth as he peered around nervously, squinting through his glasses to try to make out the shapes in the poor lighting.
Hurry, stupid, you still have to walk your ass home.
So, he entered the alley, ignoring the way his body tensed and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He ignored the almost aggressive silence and his instinct telling him to just ditch the trash bag on the sidewalk and hightail it home. His shoes crunched on pieces of glass and a cool breeze blew, making him regret his decision not to bring a hoodie with him to work.
By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late. There was movement beside him, behind him, then a solid thunk against the side of his head and a roaring, stinging pain as his vision blacked out completely and he went down.
~
“It’s about that time.” Ken reminded from the front, fingers tapping the steering wheel, gun in the seat next to him. “Where do you want to start out?”
“Good question.” The sun had gone down, setting the mood for the upcoming hours as the only lighting came from the occasional street light. Felix sat quietly in the back next to him, fiddling with the straps of his gun vest and occasionally bitching about how big it was on him (Despite the fact that they’d had each vest specifically tailored to each one of them). “Find an alley or somewhere to wait in for now and we’ll wait to see where the action starts up.” They were close enough to the park where some groups went to search for the homeless (In vain-the homeless stopped sticking to the park after the first years or so and now took to hiding better). They may or may not have still been close to the mechanic shop as well, but that was just a plus.
“There were blue flowers up in the shop window, you know.” Ken said quietly as Jack watched the time tick down on his watch. “He’s probably a proud supporter of our wonderful Purge.” His lip curled sarcastically with the false praise.
“No.” Jack stared at his watch, not bothering to even look up as he answered. Three minutes and thirty-two seconds. “You should’ve seen the face he was making while that pig was talking to him. Or how pale he got when I set my shit on the counter. Trust me, he’s not into it.” His face twitched into a smile as he remembered Mark’s expressive face, his dark, soft-looking hair and his warm, friendly eyes. No, Mark was kind and sweet and incredibly not made for the life Jack had made for himself.
One minute and fifty-eight seconds.
The radio crackled. “You guys ready to rock and roll?” Arin’s voice asked through the receiver. Dan’s voice could be heard singing in the background, Ross’s own off-pitched singing threatening to overpower it.
“Ready as we’ll ever be.” Ken answered back into the mouth piece. “We’re parked near the Park.”
Forty seconds.
“Which park?”
“Uh, I don’t know, man. The biggest one? Ya’ll call if you get in over your heads, you hear? Let’s not repeat last year.”
“Can do. Same here, okay? Just cause you bastards think you’re hot-shit, doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”
“Deal.”
Seven, six, five-
“Be safe.”
“You, too, guys.”
Four, three, two-
And so began the annual Purge. They sat ready and waiting in the dark for the screaming to start.
They didn’t have to wait long.