London Undercover

Long before Detective Wayne Bateman became a private eye, he was an undercover police man within the city of London. He infiltrated some of the biggest gangs to haunt the land, putting an end to their mischief with plenty of evidence to lock the bad guys up for good! There is one truly thrilling tale to tell however, one that gave him the ambition to leave this role behind and go out in his own. In this story; Wayne saw the darkest recesses of the criminal underground, the scum and villainy that cursed (and unfortunately still does) London was incredibly evil, degenerate, cruel and ultimately disgusting to behold. It polluted his mind with newfound horror, disturbing him with the harsh reality that people could actually be this despicable beyond his wildest nightmares. It was the gang known as The Vipers that Wayne was assigned to investigate. The gangsters wore dark green tracksuits with white stripes, this was their identity so that everyone involved knew they were part of the same crime family. There were hundreds of these men and women, all of whom were rough as a dog's ass and were most definitely involved in the drug trade that was spreading through the city like a deadly virus. This was in 2014, when dubstep music was all the rage and nightclubs were sharing the likes of Speed, Molly and Cocaine under the counter. However, as you are about to discover, there was something far more sinister going on behind the curtains. To join the gang was simple, if you could successfully commit a mugging and return the money to the gang leader, this seemed to prove you were loyal to the The Vipers and certainly weren't a cop. Before that, Wayne had to intricate into the gang's society first, learning how to speak in a much rougher accent than his own, that being Cockney and behaving like the locals who dwelled within the council estate near Camden. He first met a young lad who was a part of the gang known as Carl, a mouthy teenager who got into a fight within one of the pubs. It was clear who Carl was due to his gang colours, tracksuit and the things he was saying about getting the whole gang down here to defend him against this absolute beast of a man who was almost forty. Carl didn't stand a chance against this juggernaut, so Wayne stepped in and knocked out the beast within an instant. Everyone in the pub gasped, as the giant fell onto the hardwood floor.

"Nice one!" Carl laughed, rubbing his swollen black eye.

"No worries, son." Wayne nodded, "you say you're in a gang, bruv?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Carl grinned, "could do with a bruiser like you eh..."

"We all got to stick together ain't we." Wayne shrugged, "what's your name?"

"Carl Johnson." The young gangster replied.

"Ah, like those Johnson Brothers, aye?"

"No, not them, but cheers mate! Real compliment that!" Carl chuckled.

"Come down here again one night, maybe next Fri, I'll introduce you to my gang!"

"Bees knees mate!" Wayne grinned, "what time?"

"About 6."

"Sure, see you then bruv."

"Is right..."

"Name's Justin Peterson." Wayne told him his fake name.

"All right, Justin. Later!" Carl waved goodbye and left the pub.

Wayne had to wait a further five days until Friday night, in that time he did his research. He shadowed the gang without their knowledge, hiding in his black car, tailing them around the city. They often visited shops and yelled at the cashiers inside for protection money, they even got physically aggressive with a few in order to get what was owned. They also drove to shitty apartment buildings, presumably to threaten those who owed the gang money, so they were also loan sharks. The leader of the gang didn't wear a green tracksuit with white stripes, instead he was a big, fat crime lord with a bold head, wearing a designer suit with a green tie, black blazer and pants. He looked like your stereo typically London Mobster. Wayne had seen him a few times greeting newcomers to the gang, or driving around in a limo that travelled between Essex and Camden on a daily basis. Before Wayne knew it, Friday had arrived. He was ready to join this despicable gang.

That Friday night he met Carl at 6:45pm, the young gangster was so late, Wayne thought the whole meet up was cancelled, believing he might have already been made. It didn't appear that was the case, as Carl arrived at the pub with three more men dressed in green tracksuits looking much tougher and intimidating than he was. They didn't smile as they approached Wayne.

"Who the fuck are you, mug?" The tallest one asked.

"Aye, he's cool man!" Carl pleaded.

"Shut up bro!" He sneered at Carl, then turned to face Wayne, "why the fuck you think we'll make you one of us, huh?"

"Because I'm tough as nails." Wayne replied bluntly.

"With a girly popstar name like Justin?" He mocked, "don't bloody think so!"

"He had my back last week, man. I'm telling you, Justin's top G!"

"That's right." Wayne nodded, his stern stare never wavering.

"Seems pretty tough to me, boss..." One of the silent gangsters said.

"All right then, you want to prove your worth?" The tallest asked Wayne.

"Sure." Wayne replied.

"Mug a cunt and come back with the money, Ken here will watch you, make sure you actually do as we say."

"That's right!" the third one spoke, that being Ken.

"That I can do." Wayne stood up and left the bar, Ken followed behind him. Once outside, Wayne walked down a dark alleyway, Ken was impressed and gave Wayne an approving nod. Eventually an innocent old lady with dog walked down the alley opposite him. Wayne hated himself for this, but he threatened the old woman, pulling out a knife from his coat pocket. The poor old lady cried and hanged him her purse, before running away crying with the dog whimpering madly. Wayne walked back up the alleyway to meet Ken, then handed him the purse.

"Told ya." Wayne added.

"That'll do." Ken nodded then led Wayne back to the pub, slamming the woman's purse onto the table with Carl and the other two gangsters.

"He did it." Ken said.

"Well, I'll be!" The tallest laughed.

"You wanna tell me your name already?" Wayne asked cooly.

"All right, you deserve that. The name's Jerry Johnson, Carl's elder brother, beside me is the middle child in our fam; Ryan Johnson, and before you ask, no we're not related to the famous Johnson Brothers."

"I already told him!" Carl butted in.

"Yeah, well... I told him again just so he won't forget it!" Jerry growled.

"I won't forget." Wayne replied.

"Wicked!" Jerry grinned, "now maybe we take you to our boss, see if he wants you in our league."

"Take me to him." Wayne said, "I got what it takes!"

"Cocky son of a bitch, ain't he?!" Ryan laughed, "not so fast, sunshine, we want to get to know you a bit first!"

"Yeah, see if you really got what it takes!" Ken grinned, brushing up to Wayne a little, trying to intimidate him, only Wayne wouldn't blush, he was as still as a statue.

"See... Hard as fuck!" Carl cheered.

"Yeah, yeah... We'll see. Have a few pints with us tonight, there's always a fight in here, just like the Johnson Brothers' pub, I wanna see what I'm buying!"

"I'll start a fight, if it'll make ya happy!" Wayne said.

"Maybe you won't need to, some fuckers been starting on my little bro lately."

"Yeah, he stopped them last week!" Carl added.

"There might be more of the bastards tonight, a whole fucking horde of the cunts, might even have knives on them, the pussies!" Jerry sneered.

"Total twats!" Ryan added.

"We'll show them!" Wayne said. Then he ordered all the gangsters pints of lager at the bar.

"Cheers bruv, I'll get the next round!" Jerry grinned, before swigging his drink. That night there was a fight, the same thugs from last week really did return, at least twenty of them this time. Carl practically watched (as he could barely fight) as Wayne floored most of them, throwing the enemy against bar counters, over tables and he even picked up a barstool, using it as a weapon. Of course he wouldn't have been able to beat them all without Jerry, Ryan and Ken's help too, but the whole gang were incredibly impressed. They fled the pub together and Jerry even hijacked a passing taxi, pulling the driver out onto the wet road screaming. They all climbed inside as Ryan got in the driver's seat and escaped into the night.

"What a night!" Carl laughed wildly, "see I told you bro, didn't I say?! Justin's the fucking Top G!"

"Yeah, yeah..." Jerry chuckled, "that really was fucking sick bruv, Mr Kingsley's gonna be well chuffed with you, man!"

"Wicked." Wayne replied smugly.

"It's too late to see him now though, will have to be tomorrow!" Jerry called over to Ryan and Ken, who were in the front two seats of the taxi.

"Yeah, bro. We all better split before the pigs fuck us!" Ryan laughed. Little did any of them know, Wayne Bateman was a cheeky little piggy all along.

The next day came and Wayne was introduced to Mr Kingsley by Jerry and Carl. He really was a big man, fat but tall and ultimately terrifying. The crime lord lived in a huge manor, like something out of a classic mobster movie. He was even more grotesque up close and personal, with small scar across his right nostril. They were all sat in the living room inside this huge manor. The walls were plastered with grand paintings of portraits of Kingsley's family, landscapes were also framed, depicting medieval England, showing castles and lush green countryside. Even the furniture was unbelievably fancy, made of the finest silk and comfortable leather. Mr Kingsley was pouring Wayne and the gang glasses of scotch, assuring them this was the finest and expensive bottle in all the land.

"I've heard good things about you, son." Mr Kingsley said to Wayne, handing him a glass of the scotch he just poured. Wayne took it gladly and sipped it, getting drunk on the op wasn't wise but one glass wouldn't it, the scotch was positively lovely.

"I can be a valuable asset." Wayne replied, with the utmost confidence.

"That I believe, you protected my boys well last night I hear. We could always do with a bruiser like you, eh?" Mr Kingsley grinned.

"So, I'm part of the gang now?"

"Of course."

As the weeks past, Wayne grew more and more accustomed to the gang. They had him do all kinds of dark and despicable things, car thefts, protecting drug dealers, they made him a loan shark who beat the innocent for money that was owed. All the while, Wayne was wearing a wire, recording the criminals discussing their next moves, feeding the information to police officials. There enough evidence to lock a few of them up for petty crimes, but Wayne's boss kept pushing him for more information. Wayne hated who he was becoming, he had shaven his head, grown a goatee, always wore green tracksuits and nothing else. He hated the way people feared him and the gang, the scared and hateful looks he got from civilians simply crushed his spirit. He felt dirty. Rotten, just like Jerry, Ryan and Ken were, except for Carl who still seemed too young and innocent to truly be unredeemable. Wayne and Carl became close, even hanging out together off duty, Wayne hoped he could save Carl from this life of villainy. As time went on, more and more drug busts began to take place, evidence against the gang was slowly building and soon Mr Kingsley realised there must've been a rat within his ranks. Obviously Wayne was the latest member of the gang, so they became suspicious of him. One night, Wayne was invited on a night out with the Johnson Brothers (not the famous ones, remember) like normal. Only, when he sat in the front passenger seat, inside of Jerry's car, a hidden man popped up from behind him, wrapping a tight, black canvas bag over his head. Wayne's voice muffled under the fabric, but he could still breathe.

"Let's go!" Ryan's voice called from behind Wayne, then the car sped off. In the panic, Wayne had fainted.

He was awoken with a cold bucket of water, that was thrown over his naked body, which was tied to a wooden chair. Wayne gasped, then shivered in his seat, unable to stop himself from shaking due to the cold.

"Wh- wha- what's h- happening?!" He stuttered.

"You're a rat!" Mr Kingsley spat on his face, standing beside twenty or more gangsters (one of them holding the empty bucket that was once full of ice cold water) inside of some darkly lit warehouse. Wayne could feel the cold air breeze up his skin, giving him uncomfortable goosebumps because of the cold and he felt utterly humiliated and exposed, sat in this metal chair, stripped of his clothing and dignity.

"It- it- it isn't m- me!" Wayne pleaded.

"Don't lie to me, son!" Mr Kingsley sneered, "Johnsons, get in here!" He ordered, as Jerry, Ryan and Carl walked onto the scene, Jerry carried a thick, big, long, blood stained towel. Ryan and Carl were carrying several large buckets of water each, at least eight in-between them.

"No, g- god, ple- please no!" Wayne cried, knowing full well that he was about to be waterboarded.

"Oh, you know what this is?!" Mr Kingsley laughed, "you must be a pig!"

"I swear! I swe- swear to you, I- I'm not the rat!" Wayne screamed and screamed, crying like a baby. Ryan and Jerry were grinning, but Carl looked deeply conflicted.

"Ca- Ca- Carl!" Wayne shivered, looking at him, "te- tell them, I can't be the ra- rat!"

But Carl looked away shamefully, too scared and shy to argue against Mr Kingsley.

"Do it!" Mr Kingsley ordered Jerry, who kicked forwards the chair Wayne was tied to, knocking him back onto the cold hard ground of the abandoned warehouse. Then the bloody towel was wrapped tightly over Wayne's screaming face, Ryan slowly poured the bucket over Wayne's face, simulating the sensation of drowning, it was more agony. Once the first bucket was poured, Jerry lifted the chair back up onto it's four legs and removed the towel. Wayne breathed heavily and gratefully, as if popping up from deep beneath the ocean.

"Tell us what the police know!" Mr Kingsley yelled, spitting in Wayne's face.

"I- I don't..." He breathed heavily, "anything, I swear, I don't know!"

Jerry looked to Mr Kingsley for orders, the boss nodded his head and the water boarding continued! This time with two buckets. Once Wayne was brought back up again, Mr Kingsley punched his face so hard it bled!

"Tell us who you really are!" He demanded.

"I'm just Justin... Justin Peterson, that- that's my real name! I told you, I don't know shit!" Wayne replied.

"Bullshit!" Mr Kingsley punched him forwards, crashing onto his back again, Wayne's hands crushed underneath the metal framing of the chair. Now three buckets were splashed over his covered head, Wayne soon spat up blood, staining the towel an even darker shade of red. Still, Wayne would not reveal his true identity to the gang. Eventually it was Carl's turn to waterboard him and he was very hesitant to pour the first bucket, doing it so fast Mr Kingsley was displeased.

"You got to do it slow, that way he really suffers!" He guided him.

"I- I... I don't believe he's the rat!" Carl finally screamed, even Wayne, despite his torture, could see how terrified Carl appeared after saying that.

"What did you say?!" Mr Kingsley roared, grabbing Carl in a tight, firm grip.

"He- he saved my life!" Carl cried, "Justin stopped those rivals we had, he helped us mug, beat and even kill our enemies, you think a pig would do that?!"

"Maybe!" Mr Kingsley yelled.

"Seriously, kill for us?!" Carl argued, his confidence growing ever so slightly. Mr Kingsley just stared at the young gangster, then back down upon Wayne, whose face had become a bloody mess of broken bone, bruises and cuts from all the beatings and waterboarding he had endured. Then Mr Kingsley thought; surely by now, Justin would've cracked if he really was the rat.

"Can you forgive an old man for making a mistake, son?" Mr Kingsley laughed at Wayne, as if this brutal torture was nothing but a hilarious prank or joke.

"Su- sure..." Was all that Wayne could muster.

"Get him untied and some clothes!" He ordered the gang and they did exactly that.

As soon as Wayne could, he begged his bosses at Scotland Yard Police Station to relieve him of his position. Yet, they refused and warned him that quitting the gang after immediately escaping suspicion would make it deadly obvious he really was a spy after all. Doing so would paint a big red target on his back, it would be best for his own safety and the law's interest for him to stay undercover and build Mr Kingsley's trust again, they still needed to lock him up for something that would undoubtedly stick. Suddenly Wayne hated this job more than ever, especially himself as he continued to engage with the gang he had grown to despise, where Carl was his only friend.

So he returned to the gang the next day and things went on as usual, Wayne protected drug dealers the gang allied with, he mugged innocents for money, hating every single second of it! Wayne had gone round to Jerry's house on occasion and saw how he mistreated his wife and own kids. At first Wayne was utterly disgusted by this, but the more he got involved with them, the more this behaviour seemed normal. So after long stressful days undercover, he'd take the anger out on his own girlfriend (before she was his wife) only to immediately regret his barbaric behaviour an hour later. All the while, he still secretly drip-fed intel to the police, as more and more arrests were made against the gang.

Mr Kingsley was thoroughly convinced that Justin Peterson (Wayne Bateman) wasn't the rat that was selling them out, yet he was well aware that somebody must've been betraying them, so he set his eyes on shy little Carl Johnson. The youngest of these brothers was always so hesitant to commit crime, he was a young lad too soft to be brutal and too innocent to be a true criminal. The way he saved Wayne from that interrogation seemed like something a police officer would do, save lives at any cost, while the rest of the gang mocked Wayne's misery. It was clear as day (at least according to Mr Kingsley) that Carl must've definitely been the rat. Someone so scared of his own brothers and the crime world, he surely must've secretly wished it to end. There was no need for interrogation or torture, Mr Kingsley was so confident (and naively so) with his decision, that he announced to the rest of the gang (including Wayne) that Carl was a traitor and must be killed. Of course the rest of Carl's brothers were horrified by this news, but ultimately an unfortunately, there dedication to the gang and Mr Kingsley proved more important than their own blood's life. Finally, this was the opportunity to put Mr Kingsley behind bars for good, Wayne informed the police of what he had just discovered and they ordered him to wear a wire and a hidden camera showing the execution of Carl Johnson by Mr Kingsley and his gang, that way they would have the evidence to lock him up for murder. Wayne argued that he couldn't let Carl Johnson die, the boss was understanding of this and ordered a hidden special forces team to raid the warehouse (the very same place Wayne was tortured) to wait outside before the execution was about to take place, in the hope of stopping the murder before it happens, only after they got the recorded evidence to punish the whole gang lawfully. Wayne hated how risky this operation was, but he had no choice but to accept this plan.

So soon the night came, everyone in The Vipers was waiting for Mr Kingsley to begin, as Carl sat tied up on the chair naked just like Wayne once was, unconscious with a black canvas bag over his head. It was a humiliating sight and Wayne could see just how conflicted they other two Johnson brothers looked, staring down at their own little bro like that must've been rough. Mr Kingsley arrived eventually, drawing the attention of everyone as he arrived like that of a King, wearing his signature green tie and black suit.

"Wake him!" Mr Kingsley ordered Wayne.

"O- ok boss..." Wayne gulped and did what he was told, pulling off the bag over Carl's head and slapping him awake. It took a while for Carl to realise what was happening, as he came to consciousness, then panic settled in as his eyes bulged in terror just like Wayne's had.

"Wha- what's happening?!" He screamed.

"Nobody will hear you, son!" Mr Kingsley sneered at the scared young man.

"Why am I here, what have I done?!" He cried.

"You're the rat!" Mr Kingsley spat in his face.

"No, no!" Carl shook his head, "it isn't me, I swear!"

"Bullshit!" Mr Kingsley growled, pulling out a butcher's knife, "I've had enough of your bullshit!"

"Now! Now! Now!" Wayne suddenly screamed.

"Wha-" Mr Kingsley was suddenly interrupted by smoke grenades and flash bangs, only Wayne had covered his face, knowing that was about to happen. He ran behind the chair that held Carl hostage and untied his restraints, then led him outside the building as special forces charged into the warehouse, small machine guns aimed at Mr Kingsley and the whole gang while Wayne and Carl had already escaped.

"You know Carl is going down too, don't you?" Wayne's boss chuckled upon seeing him exit the building with the nude lad.

"At least get him some clothes first!" Wayne frowned.

"Wha- what's going on?" Carl asked.

"Son..." The boss approached him, "you're all nicked. Good job Wayne!"

"Wayne?" Carl said, "so you were the rat!"

"Sorry kid."

"Fuck you!" Carl spat in his direction. Not the thanks Wayne wanted, but he was just glad to save the kid's life. So ended Wayne Bateman's career as an undercover agent, he became a private eye shortly after this bizarre, yet terrifying adventure.