The Standalones

Chapter Eleven

Ken Preston

8 June 2024

Silhouette of a rock band against a spotlight and the words The Standalones

Fred had on a denim jacket over a white T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and Doc Martins on his feet. He patted his jacket pocket for the familiar shape of the knuckledusters he kept in there.

He was ready to go and do what he did best; collecting unpaid debts.

In his own way, Fred had a moral compass, and he followed it no matter what. People should pay what they owed. It was that simple, really. And it was the law, wasn’t it? You owed someone money, you should pay them back.

Unfortunately, the methods Fred used to reclaim these unpaid debts quite often fell outside of the law. Fred couldn’t understand it; how come it was always him who got in trouble with the cops when all he was doing was leaning on a… wait, what did the judge call them? Oh, yes… a debtor to pay what they owed. It wasn’t like Fred hurt people badly. He slapped someone around a bit, broke a few items, maybe even got the knuckledusters out once in a while, but they were there mainly for show. He’d only ever used them a couple of times, although he had been delighted at how much damage they did to a person’s face.

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