OK, This and the next chapter were originally intended to be the same chapter but, unfortunately the grey too big and I decided to separate them. Apologises, but I hope this is enough to keep you going until I complete the next instalment. Thanks for being patient. I've also had some good Reponses form people and I,d like to thank them for taking the time to write. If you have any comments ideas, suggestions and the like then I,d love to hear them. Condor@thevortex.com is the place to send them. Thanks for your time folks!
"The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly; it is dearness only that gives everything its value. I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress and grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death." - Thomas Paine
It was a buzzing noise really, nothing more nothing less. An irritating hum than catapulted around the inside of his head like some obnoxious bee that sought revenge for the destruction of some lovely flower. Gabriel tried to concentrate on it. It felt like cotton wool had been stuffed inside his head and was leaking out of his ears, dulling his hearing. Why was this noise pestering him. Didn't it know what had just happened?
Did it Matter?
No of course not. All that mattered had gone? All that he was, had, left. He had, with his own hand, murdered himself. A cruel double-edged knife of lust and pity. He had stabbed himself in the heart and at the same time cut the string of the person he had held most dear to him.
There was that buzzing again. Why was it bothering him so? What did it want? It was difficult to concentrate. He had to focus, to try and zone in and pull himself back up. Back form the darkness of hate and into the light. He had to try and undo the damage he had done.
Was that possible? Perhaps what he had done couldn't be undone. Perhaps the trust he had worked so hard to gain had been shattered, like a mirror finally reflecting the harsh reality of his crime. "Guilty!" the judge would say. Guilty of lust. Yet the lust was only part of it. Watching Zak move and the dance he had performed made Gabriel acutely aware of just on of the many wonders that made up Yak's enthralling hold over him. The tenuous link that they both shared, something that was beyond friendship. One. All that was ruined now.
The buzzing was becoming almost unbearable. If was insistent and pervasive, an annoying drone that refused to be ignored any longer. It begged to be listened too, teased to be heard, a malignant force that could not be dispelled, or banished.
"Don't be a fool!" the inner voice told him
"You didn't reaaaaallllyy do anything. Think of it as a compliment. A compliment to the beauty and form that you love so much"
"But..What about Zak? I love him. He's more than just a wonderful body to me. Much more. I love him for who he is!"
"Do you?"
The Inner Voice sneered at him, incredulous
"Do you really, or do you love what you see. The sleek forms, the gracefulness. The poise. That which you aspire for that you know you can never be. Isn't that really what you crave?"
"NO! No...I love Zak...for Zak."
"You can't lie to yourself you know. Why did you come here?"
"I wanted to find Zak, to know that he was OK"
"You knew where he was when you found this place. And as for being Ok. Well...How many times do you think he has done this before. 10? 100? 1000? Don't you think he'd be safe when he had been here so many times before. Don't you think?"
Gabriel had no answer for that.
"Be honest" the inner voice chastised. "What you really came for was the opportunity to see Zak naked again. You know. You enjoyed stroking yourself didn't you. Did you get your rocks off to him? That empty shell of flesh that is nothing but a faade, a automaton, a performing animal placed there for you and your fellow man. You to enjoy his lines and curves. To seek thrills you know you couldn't possibly have in real life.
"But..I already have. We made love. I love him. That counted for something. I has to!"
"You think you love him. Maybe you did once, for a brief moment. You think you care. But really! How much did it mean to you once he left. Did you seek him out? Did you go and try to find him again? Did you even make an attempt? Of course not! You put it down to one fun night! A night of thrills, liquid ecstasy in every way. Your no better than the porn viddi's that you watched. You coward!
There was nothing to say. Gabriel hated the inner voice more than he had hated anything else in his entire life at that moment in time. What could he do? The inner voice was himself, his conscience. And it was right. It was true, all true.
Could Zak ever forgive him? How must he feel right now. To find out that friendship was nothing more that desire thinly veiled. Cheap thrills at the expense of others. Gabriel didn't know. He didn't know what to do. He rubbed his eyes furiously to wipe away the bluriness that seem to have invaded his vision. Perhaps what he could not earn Zak's trusts again. Perhaps he had lost him forever. But he had to try, just to redeem himself. Somehow, I didn't feel right simply to classify this one experience as an umbrella term for is whole feelings. True, his inner voice for this one night might be right, but there was so much more to him. Perhaps.
The buzzing was back. A perturbation that could no longer be ignored. Gabriel took a couple of deep breaths to steady him and focused on reality.
The Silk lace corner club was in uproar. People were shouting for the manager, hollering that they had not had their monies worth. Others were filling out, mumbling incredulity. Still others were staring directly at him. A fight had broken out among two of the patrons who had obviously had too much to drink and for who the unexpected end to the act was simply and excuse to cause trouble. The bouncers were in the process of wading into the melee with their frapstiks to stun and generally incapacitate those perpetrators. Ejection quickly followed, to the delight of the rest of the punters. Some had placed bets as to who could last the longest against the bouncers.
Gabriel quickly scanned the room. No sign of Zak. He had gone back stage somewhere. Perhaps if he were quick he could catch up with him and...and...
...and then something. Gabriel wasn't quite sure what but it was better than inaction. Anything was better than simply standing here like a gaping goldfish out of water. He didn't know what to say. Somehow he had to convince Zak that it wasn't just watching him for the thrill. There was so much more to it than that. There was a depth to his feelings that he had plumbed when he watched him. That newly tapped emotion, raw and pulsing in him now, sparking through his blood. A feelings that transcended mere sex. Maybe Zak wouldn't listen to him. Maybe he would turn away. Gabriel didn't think he could bear that. Whatever happened, he had to try. At least he would know he had tried then. He would know.
He turned for the stage, ready to make a dash on top and behind the curtain, but his view was blocked. The short bald moustache man with the tux and the cane was heading directly towards him. Flanking him were two of the largest and beefiest men Gabriel had ever seen. The looked for all intents as if they thought nothing about hurling people as if they were discus and eating children for breakfast. On toast.
Gabriel swallowed. This did not look good. The molten lava that had seemed to have churned his stomach but a few minutes ago had turned into a lump of stone, hard and heavy on his intestines. This was not going to be a benign meeting between friends. Gabriel, although fit was no fighter. The last time he had been in a fight was some years ago where he had been with a friend back on earth. They had decided to go drinking at one of the local gay haunts in London, near Leicester Square. The club was called Bookers or, affectionately by the locals, Bonkers (for obvious purposes.) Very drunk, they had staggered around Soho for a while before stumbling blindly straight into two SYPD (Scotland Yard Police Department) officers. The Riot squaddies (or Scrags in street slang) were known to be among the most brutal and unforgiving in the entire country.
"Fook off" They had squealed, with the supreme confidence of the truly oblivious!
The officers simply stood there, paragons of justice in a world of lawlessness (or so they thought). If either Gabriel or Alex had been any less inebriated they might have noticed the deadly gleam in the officers eyes, or the way the stroked their Frapstiks lovingly, as if just itching to using. Unfortunate for them then that they were and did not.
"Ya Fooking Baasssturnds!" they had slurred "geeroot way..weeeell fooking sho yers! Yaaaa! Kick yer azzez!"
The conversation had gone rapidly down hill from there, and while Alex was being laid into by the two yobbish cops, Gabriel ran as fast has his skittish legs would carry him, hollering back that he would call the police. He reached a Com-Box, and fumbled for the VC unit. It took him a good three attempts to wrestle the unit from the wall. His alcohol fogged brain desperately churned and roiled, as if a voxcomp processor 10 years out of date. What was that emergency number again? 9999? 999999? 999? Accck! How many nines? He needed to get hold of the police!
..the police..
..The police who were beating his friend into oblivion! Dammit! What a waste of time. What a fool he had been. They always protected their own. It was the way of things.
Gallantly he staggered back to the location of the Fray. It was too late, the attack was over. Alex lay in the road, bleeding and unconscious. Gabriel managed to slap him awake and together they hobbled to the nearest TransTube station and caught the next one back home.
Alex had been OK, nothing broken, just severely beaten. He had had a fine collection of bruises the next day but forgave Gabriel for fleeing at the first sign of danger. They were friends after all and friends forgave friends.
"Did they?" Thought Gabriel bitterly.
Actually the incident had lead to Alex staying with Gabriel a few more days in London. Their relationship developed from friendship into something much more physical. Never love, just close affection. Many a night they spent wrapped in each others arms, each gasping away the after effects of a powerful orgasm, their naked bodies sticky from the intermingling fluids. Sex with Alex was always fast and intense, a wild ride. They still kept in touch. Gabriel hadn't commed him for a while though. He should really get in contact...
A rough shake on his shoulder brought him swiftly back to his present situation. The ratty Tux was standing in front of him with the two giants either side. "Balls for brains, Testosterone for blood" His father had once quoted. It seemed to fit the two Goliath's perfectly.
"Ummm...Hi, nice show!" Gabriel started hoping to diffuse the situation somewhat. A smallish crowd had gathered behind the ratty Tux man, sensing that something was about to happen and wanting the best seats in the house.
"Yes it was."
Replied ratty, amiably enough. Either side of him the two bruisers shifted their weight slightly.
"Particularly the last one..You know, Zak" He continued in a voice dripping with sugary sincerity.
Gabriel nodded dumbly. Dimly he as aware that his adam's apple seemed to have inflated to about three times his usual size and was restricting his vision. He dug his finger under his collar to loosen it.
"yeah, he..he was the best. Very good. Nice...uhhhhh...Moves!"
Gabriel was aware that he was jabbering slightly, but this was a threatening situation to be sure and he was outnumbered about thirty to one. Talking was the only way he was going to managed to work his way out of this one in a whole piece. Beads of sweat ran in rivulets down his back.
Ratty nodded, the pinnacle of calm.
"you...uhhhh..Know him? Zak I mean"
Gabriel swallowed
"Uhhhhhh...not really..."
"But he seemed to know you. In fact, he seemed almost...Upset to see you. Now I wonder why that is?"
"Ummm..what I mean is...we...Ahhhhh. That is, we live together."
"Ohhhhhh. So you live together!" the other enthused with false interest. Gabriel nodded.
"But...you don't know him" Ratty finished.
"Ummm...Look......"
The sentence never finished as ratty snapped his fingers. With astonishing dexterity for one so huge, one of the massive thugs lunged forward, his fingers closing around Gabriel's throat in a vice like grip. The next thing Gabriel knew, he was hoisted in the air and pinned to the wall, a tight noose of meaty flesh clasping his wide pipe and cutting off both oxygen, and voice. Feebly his legs kicked, futily, at the other mans massive bulk. His arms flailed, seeking some sort of purchase so that he could support his own weight. The slick mirrors against which he was pinned provided no such opportunity.
Ratty stepped up to where Gabriel dangled like an unlucky worm over the jaws of the shark. His breath was rank, a course smell of brandy and cheap off world cigars. He eyed Gabriel furtively.
Almost casually he took out a small nail file from his clothes and began to clean his grimy fingers.
"Did you know.." he said conversationally, not looking up
"..That I've spent nearly spent 2000 creds on Zak. Can you imagine how much money that is? More than you probably earn in 6 months. That much. And do you know what. He's worth every sliver. Every one. He's my jewel in the proverbial crown as it were."
Ratty stopped speaking and continued cleaning his nails for a couple of moments. Then he looked up. The figure dangling in front of him on the end of the sinewy girder was turning blue and looked, for all intents and purposes like a goldfish left out of water. His eyes rolled, limbs twitched and his head lolled. Ratty nodded and the bruiser relaxed his grip slightly, allowing Gabriel to take a sucking gasp of air. The grip re-engaged and Gabriel was throttled once again.
Ratty Continued
"Do you know why I,ve spent that much on him?" without waiting for an answer he clarified.
"Zak has a quality. One that I,ve never seen befor. He can...read people. Read what they want. He can look at them and then...perform for them on their level. He see's what they desire and then acts them out." The man sighed "he is the best judge of character I,ve ever seen. The best dancer I,ve ever seen and..." here a wistful smile" the best goddamn body I,ve ever seen too. And that's no joke! He has...fluidity." ratty lit a cigar and blew the smoke into Gabriel's face "You know" he garbled around the tobacco "Poise. Beauty. A rare find in a man I,ll grant you that. He makes me a lot of money. Who can find a man nowadays that has all them qualities and still acts like a man. Most of the men I know who can do that have all had surgery, or psychoramic conditioning.
Another sucking sound as the life giving oxygen rushed in Gabriel's lungs, before, once again his throat was constricted, leaving him to flounder in a sea of haziness.
Ratty appeared wistful for a second, as if actually Zak were standing in the room with them and ratty was appraising him. Then his eyes narrowed, two glittering lumps of hematite, dark and dangerous.
"So my friend, every time Zak comes in with bruises all over him, which I paid to have removed. Or two cracked ribs, which I paid to have fixed. Or a broken leg, which I paid to be set by bone knitters. Or even cuts full of glass which have to be removed, I get extremely angry. Surly you can understand that. Plus the extra for the scar regen! Every time Zak comes in here with those, I get mad. I get mad because, not only is it costing ME money to get Zak fixed up so he can dance again, but it causes him so much pain. I've seen how haunted he looks. I've heard him crying before he goes on stage. I tried to comfort him. I've tried to find out who was doing this. I wanted to know you see because.."
Here he leant dangerously close to Gabriel, still dangling pathetically.
"..because if I ever found out I promised myself that no-one would ever find out what happened to that person! Or if they did, they would never be able to identify him!"
With that, he punched Gabriel in the stomach, followed by a cruel elbow jab to the ribs.
Spitting blood, he was unceremoniously dropped onto the floor and kicked in the gut and chest a couple of times before the rat man hauled him, dazed and bleeding, to eye level. Gabriel swallowed and shuddered as he heard the distinctive whine of a pulse pistol being charged behind him. The cool metal barrel was pressed just under his left ear. He blinked tears back and stared at ratty
The other glowered at him.
"You got thirty seconds to explain why you did what you did? Why you would want to hurt someone in such a way? What sort of sick pleasure did that give you? If you can't give me a decent answer Vince here will make sure that you don't ever bother me or my employee's again!"
Gabriel tried to speak but he couldn't. His crushed windpipe was bruised and a dark line of marks around his neck showed where he had been suspended.
"20 seconds!"
Again he tried. This time, a thin croak emerged, like a frog trying to form human speech. It was unintelligible.
"10 seconds"
A thin bead of sweat trickled down Gabriel's brow. This was it. He couldn't speak, couldn't move. His brain, fogged with pain and fear wouldn't seem to form reasonable thought apart form one singular phrase ricocheting around inside his skull.
"Game Over!"
"Three"
"Two"
"One"
A rushing sound, as if wind being sucked quickly through a tunnel, screamed past Gabriel's ears. For a second everything was quite. No noise, no talking. Nothing. The silence was a veil, defying reality. All stood still. But only for a second.
A single unit of time.
In that tiny space, everything changed.
...BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!
Gabriel was flying, soaring. His lungs, already tortured and abused were subject to yet another lashing as searing hot air and molten dust were inhaled in a desperate attempt to scream.
The foiled attempt came to an abrupt end as Gabriel impacted heavily against the steps leading up from the dance floor with a bone jarring crunching. For a couple of seconds all he could see where dancing spirals, gyrating to a cacophony of pain, then his vision cleared.
Dust was every where. The place was the stage used be was nothing more than a huge hole in the far wall. Rubble and masonry rained down upon the heads of the patrons inside. Chaos reigned. People were screaming and running for the exit, falling over each other as they scrambled for relative safety. Others were lying on the floor, groaning and calling for help. Yet others were simply motionless, neither moving nor speaking. Pools of blood pained a macabre picture across the dance floor and the location of the now ruined stage. Gabriel tried to stand up, but pain lacerated his side and his hand came away from his shirt sticky. A scarlet stain was creeping slowly across the whiteness of the material.
He didn't know how badly he was injured but breathing was painful so he must have at least cracked a few ribs. His right ankle throbbed and it hurt to put any weight on it at all. Further to that, he couldn't move his left arm, without wincing in agony. Probably broken or dislocated. He wasn't sure which, but it didn't really matter. Blood dripped into his eyes and matted his hair. He couldn't hear out his right ear. All of a sudden he was tired. So very, very tired. But...he couldn't sleep. Danger was close. Very close. He had to move. He had to get away. He had to escape from this hellish inferno of weak light and cloying dust, agonised groaning and the smell of warm blood.
Agony lancing through his rib cage, he struggled to rise. He managed to get into a sort of half crouching position before trying to stand, but the lack of proper support coupled with the ever present pain proved too much and he over balanced and fell forwards down the steps, landing in a groaning, foetal heap at the bottom.
It was that fall that saved his life.
The energy pulse sizzled overhead, passing through the space Gabriel had occupied only nanoseconds earlier. It collided with a corrosive hiss into the glass and lace of the far wall, causing the lace to catch fire and the glass to melt and begin to ooze in a superheated river, down to pool on the floor below.
Casually the men began systematic destruction of the club. The High Yield Pulse Rifles they wielded demanded respect and non one still alive in the club dared to question the men's morale stance on killing. They all knew the answer. Those who tried to escape were casually shot, blowing huge burn holes through torso's, limbs and heads. The smell of charred flesh hung heavy in the air and the howls of the dying were quickly reduced to silence as lungs were vaporised, heads immolated.
Gabriel watched the wanton carnage, powerless to stop it. What could he do? He was injured, perhaps even dying. He could barely move let alone take on two heavily armed men with APRs (Assault Pulse Rifles) who were seemingly intent on destroying any shred of evidence that they were ever involved. He was a wreck. That would be the best thing to do now. Just curl up into a ball and wait to die.
"That would just be so easy wouldn't it!"
his inner voice sneered at him. Pain did not seem to affect it, although Gabriel wished it did and it would just go away. Again.
"I,m not going to go away" it empathised "I,m you. The part of you that strips everything to its most basic elements and then explains it to you in the most miserable, depressing way possible. Hey, at least after my outlooks things can only get better! And I,m going to stay here and pester you until you do something.
"But what can I do? I mean, they have guns! In a few seconds they are going to realise that I,m not dead and then I will be. Look at me! I'm a mess."
"That's no excuse!" the voice snapped "Stop being so pitiful. If you really wanted to survive you could! You know it! You just have to stop wallowing in this self pity. Give yourself a shake! What are you, a man or a Martian slug beetle?!"
"Oh piss off!"
"That's more like it! Bit of anger! Bit of rage! That's going to save you you know! Besides, if you don't want to live for yourself, what about Zak?"
"Hummph! He probably wouldn't care now If I were dead or alive. What does it matter anymore"
"You know that's not true! Look idiot, What ever you think, what ever you perceive at this moment, you and Zak are friends. Maybe something more. Friends forgive. I don't think you do Zak enough credit really. He's tougher than you think. He's gone through a lot and you've been there in that. You've supported him through that. I don't think he'll forget that easily. You just need to talk to him! See his side. But you can't really do that if your dead now can you!"
"You were just telling me that I didn't stand a chance. That I didn't love Zak and I was a total loser!" Now your telling me there is still some kind of chance. What sort of guide are you? Or is it me? Maybe I'm mentally unbalanced"
"You still don't understand do you. I,m you, so what I thing and feel is all dependant on what you think and feel. Your literally speaking to yourself so doesn't it follow that if your feeling glum, I,m gonna put a glum stance on things!?"
"I'm feeling pretty lousy at the moment, so what have you got to be chirpy at the moment for?"
"You gotta have some hope somewhere in that mashed body of yours. If you didn't then I wouldn't sound so optimistic!"
Gabriel sighed, then winced in pain. One of the problems with having an inner voice was that it was usually right. Again. He had to get out of this mess somehow. But how? Between closed eyelids he slowly scanned the room. Agony was making thinking difficult, it felt like thousands of tiny white hot needles of infinite length were being driven into him, an inch at a time. He had to focus. He tried to ignore the pain and think clearly. It was difficult.
What did he have to do?
Escape.
How?
Through the main exit or the whole in the wall.
Could he do it with out the men seeing him?
No.
So then what?
Kill the men.
Kill them. Here was he, a pacifist by nature, plotting to murder two men in cold blood. Well, not quite in cold blood. They would kill him first with out a second thought but the idea of actually taking a life was abhorrent. So, the outcome of his existence seemed to boil down to kill or be killed. The thought was quite ironic really. Gabriel chuckled. His inner voice would have found that amusing. After all, he did. He cast his eyes around again, searching for something he could use as a weapon or a shield against their gunfire. Dammit! There was nothing! Nothing at all! Mostly everything was in smoking ruins or melted beyond recognition. There was nothing...
The memory flashed into his brain, a white bolt of clarity.
-- Spitting blood, he was unceremoniously dropped onto the floor and kicked in the gut and chest a couple of times before the rat man hauled him, dazed and bleeding, to eye level. Gabriel swallowed and shuddered as he heard the distinctive whine of a pulse pistol being charged behind him. The cool metal barrel was pressed just under his left ear. He blinked tears back and stared at ratty --
There had been a gun! One of the goons had been pressing it against his head! He could use that! Spots drifted in front of his eyes as he searched once again. It dimly occurred to him that maybe he had lost quite a bit of blood. He had read somewhere once that that was quite bad for you. Oh well. Never mind!
He found the goons. They were lying on the dance floor a couple of meters away form him. One was completely unrecognisable as a human being any more, A smoking mass of blackened flesh and bone. The other had had half his face shorn away in the blast. Skull and what remained of sinew and flesh leered at the sky in a macabre smile. Gabriel had to swallow hard to avoid being violently sick! Yet, there. There was the pulse pistol, glinting gun metal grey in the half light. It was mostly hidden underneath the body of the thug, unnoticed by the death-dealing assassins.
Gabriel glanced at them. They had completed their circuit of what remained of the silk lace corner club, now a cruel skeleton of what had once been a proud establishment. Now they began working their way back towards the front, shooting at anything they deemed to be of living origin. No witnesses. He hadn't much time.
Gingerly he began slowly to slide himself down the steps and onto the dance floor. Pain assaulted him from every side. It was liquid torture, exquisite and forever. Gabriel could no longer remember a time when he had not been in pain. It was eternal. Yet the pain didn't matter any more. Life, now, was more important. The singularity of his task washed through him. Slowly he kicked and dragged with his one good arm, like a swimmer drowning on land. Closer and closer.
Dimly he heard voices behind him. Booted feet stomped across the floor. A whine, followed by an intense wave of heat wafted over him and he heard the sizzle as yet another piece of the building was reduced to his second name-sake.
His hand closed over the cool metal of the pistols grip. It felt cold, the only source of chill in the building. That was comforting and gave him a little hope. Whatever happened now, at least he could say he tried. He had lasted till the bitter end.
The voices were so very close now. Allmost on top of him.
"The last one?"
"Yup! That's the lot. After him, it's the easy street! Man this job paid well.
The whine of a weapon being charged, the smell of ozone as the weapon reached full yield. Gently, Gabriel rolled over on his back. His executors were nothing more than two blurry shapes in a sea of mist. He raised his arm up.
"No chance of surrender now pal! Night Ni...what they hell!?"
Gabriel pulled the trigger.