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"Defying Gravity"A Romance in Three PartsWritten By: Kaeru Shisho Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU, yaoi, some language Summary: A multi part story of romance starting
with a turning point vacation, developing throughout a dangerous UC
mission, and moving ahead through the unexpected challenges of a summer
vacation. "Part Two: It's Back to Work"
Chapter 23
Duo's POV. I swear, when I started for the door I was never so glad to see Amid's ugly mug. I'd had the slimiest hands pinching my butt, the nastiest breath in my face, but I'd gotten a close-up of every one of those fuckers. Hope they die in hell, selling poor street kids like cattle to be drugged and trained for some madman's army. Amid and his bud acted like a wall, cutting off those hands as I transferred all the loot and evidence, and provided a path for my escape. The gig was just about over, and I was relieved. Time to get the hell back home. As we passed through a corridor, I caught sight of a face I couldn't place here in Morocco. The side passage was dark and the face shadowed. I heard a scuffle, like a boot sliding on the floor. And then a noise, a sharp pain, and—oh, yeah, it was Raul! My memory kicked in for a moment. Then blackness. Ah, a moment too late. I guess Raul grabbed my limp body and took off. The next blurred memories consisted of being moved and a muted voice. I had lost all sense of time. I was thirsty. I couldn't see. I needed to sleep. I fought the sensation of falling and lost. I woke up later and knew I'd been out of it for some time. I know I woke up, because I had clear recollections of waking and drinking, hearing a familiar voice and seeing moving patterns of light. I always felt as if I was out of touch with the real world and that my mind knew this but couldn't get clear of the fantasy. I wondered if I had finally lost it and gone insane, but I couldn't fathom why I would. I knew there was another world out there, one that I had an active role in, but couldn't enter. The fog cleared in short bursts at first. My memory remained impaired, and I was always thirsty, both of which angered me. From the chemical taste in my mouth, I figured Gunter was keeping me drugged. I was under cover and the operation parameters had changed, that I seemed certain of, but I couldn't keep my focus or retain a firm picture of the substantial world. It was maddening. "Come on Scythe, let me in," the voice said quietly. "Let me be what you need." "Don't 'need' anything, 'cept water," I said, trying to ignore the way his hands were moving around my waist. Gunter chuckled. I had established his name right off. "Oh yes, I know exactly what you need, Scythe." "I said water." I turned to face him. "You need to let it all go and just be," he said. "Forget about all of this shit that's pissing you off and just have a little fun." I shook my head. I couldn't recall being particularly "pissed off," but if he was involved I wasn't surprised either. "I don't like your idea of fun." He took me by the hand and led me over to the desk. I followed, interested in what he was going to show me, and pissed off— okay, now I was-- because I was feeling something...something like tension...sexual tension. I didn't want to feel anything for him. I hated him with a passion, his touch sickened me. But then it didn't; in fact, his firm hand on my waist had almost soothed me. He opened the drawer and grabbed a small black case that was about the size of a long jewelry box. He handed it to me and I stared at it for a moment and looked up at him. "What's this? Doesn't look like a water bottle." "More fun," he said, watching me intently. I opened the case and inside was a number of smaller compartments separating different types of pills. He pointed to the first compartment. "Freedom, fun, escape—pretty nice to get all that from a pill." I shook my head. "No way am I doing that again. You nearly killed me the first time." I was unaware that this scenario had played out repeatedly for several days. I was not so loaded on drugs that I was unaware of what normal feel like or that I wasn't, but my memory was shot. He grinned. "You're doing just fine now. I've fixed it. It's cleaner and the dosage is much smaller. Just one and it'll take the pain away." "I don't have any pain to take away," I lied. The prospect of a short time of no pain sounded like a wonderful thing. I had plenty of pain by now, all mental, but admitting my weakness to Gunter wasn't something I wanted to do. At least I had dredged up that much strength of will. "I'm going for water." "Liar," he said quickly. "I can see how your eyes brightened at that thought. Come on, Scythe, you've got nothing to lose and everything to gain. No one to tell you no and no one to think you're less because of it. You deserve to be able to just let go." God, the man could sell sand to L4 Arabs or someplace else that had lots of sand that was just on the fringe of my thoughts, teasingly just out of reach. That hurt. I looked down at the case in my hands and then back up at Gunter. "How much cleaner?" "You won't even feel it as it takes effect. Its release is gradual, not like the veil." He smiled. "Come on. you know I won't let anything happen to you, not while Wind still has my boys hostage. You wouldn't know where, would you?" "Who?" I asked, my mind and face a complete blank Wind. The name sent my head spinning to catch up with the shattered memories. My heart was suddenly racing; of course, it was probably time for my next dose and my body's craving was peaking for me. I thought I recognized where I was—Gunter's house. In that same moment of clarity, I remembered that Wind was Mill and he and I were living across the street deep undercover. This was part of our mission. I had the perfect opportunity to make headway in the case. I knew that the cameras were there. They were all over the house. I knew that whatever information I could get from him, whatever I could get him to talk about, could all be used as evidence. I also knew that if he thought me to be high, he'd be more willing to talk and be free himself. But at the same time, while thinking of the advantages for the case, I knew that it didn't really matter what happened to me. If I took it and keeled over, then I was an overdose by a dealer on tape. With me being an agent, the agency would bust him if I passed on, regardless of what other crimes they wanted to catch him doing. Either way, he'd be caught, but that hurt, too. I took a deep breath and was about to say yes when he slid his hand up my chest. I swallowed hard at the feelings he was evoking from me, and I hadn't even had the damned drug yet. I sighed heavily and caught his hand, holding it still, closing my eyes. "Forget what I said. Come on, Scythe, what have you got to lose?" he whispered. Nothing. I knew I had nothing. Mill was not my lover, although, I was certain I had once had one. I had this terrible pain of loss inside. Everything I'd ever cared about had been taken from me, and there was nothing more than finishing the case and going home. Home, what was that? Back to my shitty dormitory room and my shitty job. Wasn't there more? I set the case on the desk and took a step forward. "How long?" "Ten, fifteen minutes tops, and then it lasts several hours." I nodded slowly and pushed back both my hatred for him and my nervousness with what was about to happen and took another step toward him. I had to admit that my hatred was taking a back burner to whatever pain I was feeling right now. I didn't know what this was, but it was certainly different. "I've got nothing to lose," I whispered as I leaned in and kissed him. I don't know how long the kiss lasted, but when he pulled away, I was actually breathless. He smiled at me and reached for the case, opening the first compartment. He took out one pill, examined it and placed it on my tongue. It immediately began to dissolve and the bitter taste was much milder this time, barely noticeable. Not noticeable at all. "Nothing" manifested in my mind, as in, the big void. No pain, no sense of loss, limited "ego," fading "super ego," but plenty of "id." My libido was fully active. My "ego" was having difficulty balancing my primitive drives, morals, and reality, which removed my concern for my personal safety. My poor "super ego," my conscience and internal moral judge, was squashed. I could kill him and escape. I thought that over and over, but then who'd complete the mission? Who would nail his ass? Some poor schmuck agent would have to go through this again? No way. I was a goner, but I'd find a way to get the goods on Gunter first. No one would have to have to come back because I'd failed to come through. He laughed and picked up the small black case and raised it to me as if in a toast. "Just getting started." A minute may have passed, or five; I lost the memory of that segment of my life. Next tick of the clock and I was still sitting on the edge of Gunter's desk, now holding the small black case of pills. There were several different sizes and colors and I recognized none of them. I opened the second compartment and took out a small jade-colored pill, holding it up for inspection. "What's this?" "Hey, hey, hey," he took the pill out of my hand and put it back into the case. "The rest of those you aren't ready for." I looked up at him and smiled. "Well, at least tell me what I'm missing." "Believe me, you're not missing anything," Gunter said, dismissing my questioning. I looked back to the case and shook my head. "Since when do you know what I'm ready for?" I asked. It was a two-sided question and I knew it. I thought he'd take the sexual route, but he surprised me. That should have been a clue that I was getting a glimpse of the other side of the man, the professional one. "I didn't mean you personally. Physically your body needs to work its way up to these in small doses. If I were to give you one of the other pills, you would hate me forever." He took the case from me and pointed to the seventh compartment. "That one is what you got from me that night at the club. I didn't take into consideration that you were essentially a virgin." "So, you're saying that what I have tonight is the lowest dose of the one from that night?" I gave him a lop-sided grin. "Oh, and don't worry. I'm going to hate you forever anyway." He stood and placed the case on the desk and leaned in as if to kiss me. He instead let his hand linger on the inside of my thigh, as he looked me in the eyes. "That's what I'm saying." His hand trailed a little further up and his fingertips brushed my crotch through the denim of my jeans. The look on his face was entirely too smug, and I didn't like it at all. There was nothing more that I'd like to do than to be able to wipe that look off of his face and replace it with another. As I walked down the hall leading to the kitchen, everything in sight blurred and multiplied. I reached out quickly to my side, finding the wall, and stumbling to it. Leaning my head back and closing my eyes, I stood with my back to the wall, waiting to see if this would pass. Time didn't seem to have any meaning at that point; I didn't have a clue as to how long I'd been standing there with the wall holding me up. Footsteps approached from down the hall, I think in the direction I'd just come from, I couldn't be sure. I refused to open my eyes to look to see who it was but I knew that whoever it was, was wearing dress shoes of some sort. The slight clicking noise on the marbled floor was unmistakable. As the footsteps came closer I could smell Gunter's light cologne and I could hear and recognize his gait. The man didn't know how to walk simply putting one foot in front of the other. No, the man strutted wherever he went. It wasn't effeminate in any way, but the man wanted people to think he was the shit. His hand was on my butt, stroking, before he really ever stopped in front of me. "Hmm, that's always a nice look." It was then, I realized, that my pants were open. I groaned as he reached inside my pants, tugged on me, and squeezed. Every damned nerve in my body felt like it was running on some kind of electric current. One of Gunter's hands caressed my face along my cheek. "Just breathe and don't try to fight it." I sighed heavily. "I thought you said I wouldn't even notice this shit." He laughed softly. "Yeah well, I never expected such a tough guy to be so sensitive. But don't worry; you'll be okay in just another minute or so. I won't let anything happen to you." I opened my eyes and tried to force things to look normal again. I squinted and blinked a few times and Gunter's hand that had been on my cheek swept gently across my brow. It was oddly comforting. "That's right, just relax," he whispered. And for a few minutes I did relax, until I realized that I was supporting myself against the wall with Gunter stroking my cock and my brow, comforting me. There were so many things wrong with the way I felt at this point. The main thing that lingered in my mind was that this was just—wrong. I forced my eyes to focus, pushed his hands away from me, and fought to stuff myself back into my jeans. "I'm fine," I grumbled. I actually had to bite my lip in order to stifle the whimper that was brought forth by the constriction in my jeans. Things were getting a little clearer now as I pushed myself away from the wall. It did piss me off that Gunter's words and his touch had comforted me. The only excuse I could think of was that is was because of the drugs; it had to be them giving me these dumb-ass feelings. I sighed and shook my head as if trying to clear it all away. This was absolutely insane. There was no way whatsoever that I could be even minimally attracted to this, this deviant. My dick was defiantly saying yes, but my head was screaming no. My poor deflated egos were trying to reassert themselves. I was only doing this for the job; taking one for the team. That was all that counted, all that mattered, all that was important. I had nothing left to lose anyway by going the extra mile. What I really needed, other than him finishing me off, was for him to start talking. He looked up at me and smiled absently as I neared his desk. I found bottles of water down on the edge of the desk and walked around the back of his chair. On the screen of the computer was some sort of code. Code that was similar if not exactly like the code I'd come across on the CD Raul had copied or no there was other stuff, too. Pictures. My hands slid across his shoulders and then down his chest. "What're you doing?" I asked. "I'll be done in just a minute, I promise," he said as he touched my hand. I leaned against the back of his chair with one of my hands on his chest, while the other slid just inside his shirt. He grabbed his pen and quickly began drawing some sort of diagram. A few minutes later he was entering what I guessed were his 'results' into his computer. The screen beeped and flashed, drawing my attention to it. When I saw the diagram on the screen this time, it was so very clear to me what it all was and what it all meant. Formulas. These were drug formulas and it seemed he had his own little coding system in place. It never occurred to me that Gunter himself would have the knowledge to do all of this. There had been no educational background in his file, so we'd made a few assumptions, or at least the agency had. I clenched my jaw tightly to not make any verbal indications of how thrilled I was with this new piece of the puzzle. About that time, he stood, forcing my hands from him. I continued leaning on the chair, but turned slightly to watch what he was doing. This was data I would have to get to Mill, and I knew how to do it. I'd only have to wait until I was alone. Maybe late that night. (o) A few days before that memory, Gunter had removed my collar with heavy-duty pipe cutters. He had nearly strangled me in the process and had left red welts on my neck afterwards. Afterwards, he had tried to hide the collar. He didn't want me "wearing Wind's tokens any more," now that I had become his. Well, clever thief that I was, I got it back. He wasn't as clever as he thought, or thought I was less compos mentis than I was. I got it back and hid it well from him. I was very clever in spite of my drugged mental condition, even though for the life of me I can't remember how I pulled it off. I do recall that Gunter looked upon the collar as simply a piece of garish jewelry. He was not techno savvy, but then I knew that since he hadn't discovered the surveillance cameras and bugs I'd placed around the house. I wondered about the viewing or listening devices I'd installed and who was watching the monitors. I hadn't seen any devices in the two rooms I had freedom roam. It was as if this wasn't the same house, even though I knew it must be, even if my access was limited to this office and a bedroom. I wondered about the kitchen, the living room, and the other boys who were captives. I was a captive, now that I thought about it. My thinking was circuitous, random, and often illogical, but I kept trying to cut through the perpetual fog that plagued my mind. I had few activities with which to occupy my limited waking time. I was drugged out of my mind at times and clear-headed others. One coherent afternoon, I tinkered with the collar seeing if any part of it was operational. I was awed by its complexity and elegance. Whoever designed it was a genius I wanted to meet. In the back of my mind I thought I knew who it was, but was unable to hold onto that part of my memory. I discovered an intact USB port, disguised under a flip-up stud; a cracked micro-camera casing with fused innards; several possible device units of indeterminable use near the "cut" point, which were mashed to smithereens; and a micro-microphone. The microphone unit was impossibly small, but I could see a damaged spot in the wiring I thought I could fix. I rummaged through the one unlocked desk drawer for matches and was rewarded with a lighter. My hair was unbraided, which meant the few tools I'd once kept hidden in the tangles were gone. I improvised with a wire paper clip and the guts to a mechanical pencil enough to separate the wire and melt the protective plastic casing over the exposed metal so it would no longer make contact with the surrounding ones. It was all I could do at the time with the tools at hand. Before I could test it, I heard Gunter's key in the lock. I hid away the collar, replaced the lighter and the pencil, wrapped the paper clip around my finger, ring-like, and I leaned back. As the door opened, my eyes closed, biding my time. (o) By midnight of the day I'd seen the data files on Gunter's computer, the drugs had worn off, mostly, and I was alone. I remembered the chemical data Gunter had been studying on the and knew I had to collect it. I dug the collar out of hiding and attached the collar to the USB port of his computer and began downloading all the files Gunter had accessed that day. I was pleased the collar hadn't been ruined when it had been cut off. The homing tracer was probably what had been crushed by the cutters, because no one had come for me. I knew someone would come for me, sometime. I wasn't just left to die here alone, I hoped. Mill would have come for me, wouldn't he have? He wasn't just leaving me here. Maybe he was. Maybe this was the intention from the start. I was so embedded-UC I wasn't coming out. I hoped he received the data stream and appreciated what it took me to get it to him. It was another day, the next, although, it could have been the next year-- since my inner clock was shot to hell-- and Mill, no, Wind, no, not him either; it was Alric Gunter talking to me. He raised an eyebrow in question, but when I didn't answer him he chose to ask a different question. "Oscar Wilde once referred to homosexuality as 'the love that dare not speak its name.' Why is that do you think? We are strong, virile men, why should we be afraid to declare our intentions, show our affection freely and openly? Why do we hide?" "I don't hide any longer," I said. "Of course you do. You're hiding now, aren't you?" "But not from my sexuality." I lifted a lucid eye to meet and hold his. "Give me the keys and I'll come out." He didn't. I think something in my expression frightened him, although that wasn't why he didn't give me the keys to the house. I think my body was concocting its own anti-serum to the drugs. I swallowed most of that box he'd last shown me, and I wasn't any more affected than the first time. For a moment I think some past persona of mine shown through, one I called "Shinigami." I wasn't sure, but that would explain his reaction. "I don't know you," he said. "I don't know anything except you like to party, and you seem to love this." I winced as he leaned into me, slipped another pill past my lips, and pressed his groin into my belly. "What is it?" he whispered, stopping his suggestive movements and lifting my chin in order to meet my eyes. I felt the drug plow into my consciousness like a fleet of Leos. I had nothing to combat the relentless surge. I could only give in, again. My libido flared. "Don't stop," I gasped. "Please." He started grinding into me again, and I moaned. "What is it?" he whispered. His voice tightened. He was concerned. "Nothing... I just..." "Go on. Tell me." "I love..." I couldn't say it. "I love the feel of you. It's so good. I don't want it to stop." He pulled me closer into his arms and kissed my neck, stroking deeply into me. I moaned softly. He kissed me long and hard. I love you, I thought. But I didn't say it aloud. If I told him, he'd be gone. Everyone I loved left me, whether they loved me in return or not. Someone loved me, but it was not Gunter. He didn't love me, but it was getting harder for me not to say it. Every time he kissed or touched me, I ached to say it. I wanted those touches. I wanted to be loved. The only time I wasn't in danger was when I wasn't with him, and that was worse. When I finally said it, I wasn't meaning to. "Scythe, just a minute. I have to take a phone call, understand? I will be right back." "What?" I muttered incoherently. He passed me a water bottle and kissed my mouth. "Don't move. I won't be long." I was in the bedroom, waiting for him. I thought about the collar and wondered if I'd fixed the microphone. I thought about saying something, but then I was so damned thirsty my throat hurt. Next thing I knew, I was drinking water and feeling like shit. I was sick of holding it in, and I knew he didn't want me like I wanted him, which was almost worse. I heard his footsteps at the door, the key in the lock, the door open. "Scythe? Are you still awake?" "Yes." In more ways than one. My inner Shinigami was breaking through the drug-induced haze blocking off my brain functions. He stood in the doorway to the bedroom arms crossed. "Hello." "You're late," I said. "Sorry. It took longer than expected. Didn't know it mattered to you." He said it in a joking manner, as if he knew I couldn't feel the passing of time with any accuracy. "Of course it does. I love you, 'Ro." I didn't mean to tell him. I'd been thinking it so much; it just seemed natural to think it verbally. So I told him, the one I loved, although he was gone. Where had he gone? Why, like everyone else had he left me, too? Maybe he would come if I called him? Gunter was very quiet for a long time before saying, "Row? That's the third time you've called me that this week. It's a strange nickname. I guess I like it. Anyway, Scythe, about what you said, that's okay for you. I understand, but I don't love you." He said it. Casually. Like it was no big deal. My heart, he simply cut it out, wrenched it from my chest, and dropped it on the floor. "Just as long as you understand that, we can keep doing this. Do you want to get naked? Want to fuck? Or, do you want dinner first?" Oh, yeah. Just beat that heart with a crow bar till it stops pumping. Like a discarded Valentine. No, it wasn't like that at all. This was not my lover, not him. I didn't care about this man. Another part of my brain cleared. My libido shrank into a tiny, hard, clot. "Dinner," I said. Gunter sighed. "Whatever you want. Listen, I've got to shower." "Then do." Another sigh. "We'll go out." "Okay," I said, maintaining my detached cool. Inside, I was thrumming with excitement. Out meant freedom. I had the formulas, his voice recorded as the man holding me hostage, plenty of evidence. If I had a chance to high-tail it, it was now. Running, hiding. I could do that, but I sure wished I hadn't swallowed that last pill. I could use more lucidity. "What's this doing here?" Gunter asked with rising ire. He snatched up the collar, which had been resting on my pillow. God, I hoped it had been transmitting. "I'll dispose of this for you. No reason for you to be reminded of the past. The past is no more." I was disappointed to discover that "out" meant out of the room and into the next. Still, I hadn't been out of the same two rooms since I'd been locked up. It wasn't the house. It wasn't a house at all. It was a suite of rooms in a large building, with offices, closed, empty, lights out for the night, or weekend. "Where are we going?" "This is where I work. There is a commissary on the floor below." "Nobody around. Big place for no employees." I lowered my head and sneaked peeks of my surroundings from beneath my bangs. Guards stationed at blind intersections. Large quantity of air vents, to be expected if this manufactured drugs. Must vent chemical exhaust. Probably unsafe place to spend time crawling around and breathing toxic fumes, though. Stairwell entries unguarded. "They are not on this floor and the commissary is closed, but not to me." Now was the time to make my move. We were in sight of too many guards, armed ones. I didn't feel particularly strong or quick enough to avoid getting seriously injured, should I just up and run. Shitty drugs. The cafeteria would have cooks, knives, and exit possibilities. "Is there a men's room around here?" I asked. They had stopped just inside the cafeteria. Gunter sighed. "There was in my room. Why didn't you go earlier?" "You were taking a shower then it was time to go. Come on, all I've had is about ten bottles of water. I gotta piss." Naturally, he followed me in. I didn't have to fake a thing. I even washed my hands. I also palmed a glob of liquid soap he didn't notice. It was a challenge to one-hand a tray full of food and not look too obvious. "Hey, this stew's great. I can cook ya know and I say this is really special. I'd like to know what's in this that makes it so good. What so you think it is? Nutmeg? Chili?" Gunter raised a hand to fend off my question assault. "Why don't you ask?" "It's okay with you?" "Yes, the kitchen is that way. I'll get to eat in peace," Gunter said. He amused himself. The kitchen food service area was visible behind glass. He probably felt he could safely keep an eye on me, besides, there was no where to run. He wouldn't think there were exits. I surmised that Gunter knew as much about commercial kitchens as high tech devices. Where there were ovens and open barbeque burners, there were vents, ones my sized and less dangerous than ones with chemical scrubbers. In a building this large and producing compounds which could contaminate food, my guess was the pantry had its own cargo elevator. In any case, I could imagine my exits out the ying-yang, but they wouldn't just materialize on their own. I had to make them real. So, I chatted up the cook and begged for a tour of his kitchen, which he was happy to give. "Hey, Alric! Can I get a little tour of the kitchen? I never gotta work in a place as cool as this. I mean, it's huge and the equipment—" "Yes, Scythe, that's a good idea. Perhaps you'd like to show me how grateful you are later, in private?" "Sure!" Over your dead body! The tour started with the pizza ovens and stove tops. We were cooking with gas, yes. I ripped off a plastic bag and scraped the soap off my hand, preserving most of it in the bag, twisting it closed and stuffing it in a pocket. I've had to fit through some pretty tight spots in the past where a bit of slippery goop would have come in handy to ease the way. I hadn't expected this tour so I had used the bathroom opportunity to collect what I could, which was soap. Now, after one look up at the vents rimed with accumulated grease, I figured I probably wouldn't need the soap. The first vents I located were high and hard to reach, but coated with many years accumulation of grease I'd slip in okay—if I could climb up that high. Over at the far side I noted other vents with bakers racks nearby, which I might be able to turn into a ladder substitute. I'd need a diversion, so as we moved on, I reached behind my back and cranked up the burner under the oil. "What's back here?" I asked with youthful curiosity. "The pantry, cold locker, walk-in refrigerator, and the lift." Chef Pierre hesitated a moment then asked, "You want to see that?" "Yeah," I said, grinning. "Maybe it's filled with cold, hard, cash!" I got Pierre all loosened up over that one. Nothing like having a back load of stock jokes to pull out when I needed one. "You know what they call a bevy of blondes in the freezer? Frosted Flakes!" I spotted the lift to our right, but I made a point of looking more interested in the boxes of potatoes. That was a challenge, because I now saw that elevator as my deliverance from hell. I smelled smoke. "That's a shitload of 'taters. How many pounds of potatoes you go through a week?" I made a point of sniffing the air. "Um, you leave something on the fire in there? I smell something burning." Pierre excused himself and I had the moment I'd been hoping for. I scampered to the lift, but it required a key to operate. Okay, I could be inventive. I uncoiled my wire ring and shorted out the lock on the first try. The door opened, I hopped in, punched the"1R" button, thinking street level, rear exit to a loading area would suit my needs, and let'er rip. The elevator door opened and I was out with my foot in the door to keep it open. I leaned out and could just reach a discarded crate, hauled it over, and jammed it in the opening to hold the elevator on this floor. Wouldn't do to have them coming after me that way. It was night. This could only make it easier for me to get away, but then a fist like a bludgeon plowed into my shoulder, knocking me off my feet. "You think he cares about you, huh? I heard you. I heard what you said. You love him. Well, he don't love you, you fucking little bastard. You're just his lab rat." "Oh yeah," I said, by voice raspy as I caught my breath, "that's so fucking good." I looked directly at Raul as I regained my footing, making sure he was meeting my eyes when I said my next words. "He ever suck your cock so beautifully?" Oh yeah, it was jealousy all right. Raw jealousy and anger flashed through Raul's eyes. "You son of a bitch," he spit out and was suddenly coming at me again. I leaned away just in time to avoid Raul's knee to the side of my head. Luckily, with Raul's size and the way in which he lunged, I had the advantage. Catching him by the collar of his shirt and his upper thigh, I launched him up over me, using his momentum and my strength to give him his own downfall. I didn't notice him make a grab at my throat on the way over, but I felt the chain with my cross cut across my windpipe before it snapped. He landed flat on his back on the cement landing. As hard as he hit, I knew it had at least knocked the breath out of him. Watching him struggle to breathe and ignoring my one stinging cut to the neck, I laughed and said, "Ooh that had to hurt." I looked around for a rope or chain, knowing he'd catch his breath in a few moments and alert others or chase after me. His belt would have to do as a shackle. As much as I hated touching him, I had no choice. With a hard yank, the belt skidded through the loops and I expertly wrenched his arms to his back, making it as painful as possible, and bound them with the belt. I couldn't find my fine chain or cross in his hands or on the ground. The light was poor. It could have flown and skidded almost anywhere into the accumulated refuse. I caught the movement of a scrap of butcher paper litter fluttering in the evening air. I snagged it, balled it up, and crushed in into his gaping maw. "I coulda killed you. Remember that," I said, then turned away. I had to hide! I ran the length of the loading dock, found the stairs, and raced down the alley to the first side street. I thought I could hear the shout of men behind me, so I ran faster and turned and ran some more. It was a dingy place, like most manufacturing areas, and devoid of nightlife, except for vermin. I was reaching the limit of my endurance. Damned drugs. Then I found a parking lot with a scant few vehicles in sight. Looked like the night shift was on. Nice Harley. I hot-started it so fast I didn't even take notice of the model number. I took off with a roar of success and headed toward the city. I needed cover and fast. I had to get off the street. First lights I saw belonged to a church. Great. I ditched the hog in the shadows and covered it with a hunk of torn tarp and some cardboard lying around. It was a nice ride and I might need it yet again. I rushed to the doors. Locked. Next, I tried the side door to the chapel, but it was tight as a drum, too. I guess there were no souls to save tonight, certainly not mine. I couldn't waste anymore time hustling down a custodian to open up. I had to find cover, so it was back to the hog and a ride deeper into the city. I turned toward the sounds of cars and people. I'd reached the club district, somewhat familiar. Again, I stowed the bike in an alley for safekeeping, and walked silently through the shadows towards the brighter blur of color and light. Dead End—apt name for a club, although from the shape and material I guessed that someone had simply hammered up a stolen street sign from the states. Except... the spelling was German. I impressed myself for going back to my roots and translating in my head. I'd been in New Germany too long, that's what it meant. God, I hated the drugs for messing with my head. As a last second consideration, I quickly braided my hair. It was a mess of tangles and probably looked terrible, but loose it would be tugged and handled by strangers. I tore a strip of cloth from my shirt, knowing that would give me a cool look, and used it to tie off my hair. I stepped inside. Low voices hummed, the thrumming of music rising as the volume increased and the new song progressed. I crossed a boundary that banished the dark, into a place of steamy heat and sound. Other boys, their naked bodies glistening wet with sweat, moved aside to admit me. "Phone?" I asked. One pointed toward the bar. I asked the barman and he passed me an ancient-looking piece of equipment. I stared at it stupidly. What was I to do with a dial with holes in it? "Local calls only," he said in a heavy accent, then did a demo in the air of how to enter the number with a finger. I dialed the local Preventer's agency. It's the same number worldwide, but with different area codes. "Agent 02 here. OH TWO. That's the one. I need an extraction. Yes, immediate, code red. I'm at a club called the Dead End in the ... that's the place. Really? All-out alert for me? Cool. Thanks." I handed back the phone. "You will be rewarded," I said with a wink. I hadn't a wallet or penny on me. I had no idea where my stuff was and found it hard to care. I was free. I'd done it and I hadn't killed anybody. With time to kill, I turned back to the dance floor and saw bodies moving under rotating lights, skin gleaming, rivulets of water running across hard muscles and tanned skin—too many to count. As I moved into the group, I felt the touch of warm skin against mine, random contacts, a thigh pressing then gone, a hand across my back, trailing heat like comet tails that left me tingling. I my cock filled, my breathing quickened, and my mind sharpened in preparation to take part in the dream unfolding on the surreal dance floor. I arrived at the floor's center and stood swaying to the music, feeling the pulsing beat enveloping me in a relaxing cocoon. I tilted back my head and closed my eyes, feeling other boys against me, touching and gone, a chest brushing mine, a hard cock briefly on my thigh then vanish. Disembodied fingers touched my cheek, my hair, trickling down the inside of my arm bringing up goose bumps despite the steamy heat of the room. My cock lengthened, urgency building as I stood there undulating, eyes closed, feeling the points of contact like sparks on my skin. "You are so hot and sexy, man. You're new here, huh?" I opened my eyes to meet a pair of dark brown eyes smudged with kohl and framed by long, glossy black hair against naturally tanned skin. Pink lips stretched into a smile and a tongue tip slipped over the lower lip, leaving a wet trail. Even without the makeup he was extremely effeminate. Not my type, but it made me look more masculine in comparison. "Scythe." "Hi, Scythe. I'm Angel." "I'll bet." I laughed and he laughed too. "I didn't think anyone had longer hair than mine." His was waist length. "When it's not braided, how long is it?" "Knees." "Man, I'd like to see that. I'd like to see it loose." I shrugged and took up his hands, placed them on my shoulders and rested mine on his hips. "Just dance with me, Angel, until they come for me." I knew they would, he would. There was one someone who hadn't really left me, would never give up on me, and who would come for me. Deep down inside, I knew.
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