This is a work of gay-themed romantic fantasy fiction. While there is no graphic sex in this Chapter there is extreme violence. If that sort of thing offends you, is illegal in your location or doesn't interest you back out now and thanks for visiting.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
Thanks for reading the continuing adventures of The Druid and the Detective; I hope you are enjoying my work. Questions, comments, suggestions and complaints are always welcome since I constantly strive to improve my work. Tell me who and what you like, what you want to see more (or less) of or where you'd like the story to go. Maybe I'll even follow your suggestion. (Ask Dave!)
CHAPTER 12 Rainbow's End
CHARACTERS
Ben Dover, Age 46 -- our hero
Ethan Gray, Age 41 -- CIA Department of Exotic Affairs, Ben's boyfriend
Officer Patrick "Sully" Sullivan, Age 31 -- Kings Harbor PD
Sgt. Sam Southwick, Age 26 -- Kings Harbor PD
July faded into August and Ben Dover moved like an automaton through the days as the Summer Quarter at Kings College wound down. About the only thing that seemed to get him out of his funk was the occasional short phone call from his (former?) boyfriend Ethan Gray. The warm sun was close to setting as the big brown-haired man sat looking down at the sea when his phone rang. "Hello!"
"Hey handsome!" Ethan's educated voice came clearly over the long distance. "What's up?"
"Nothin' much," the man replied. "Just watchin' th' sunset. There's a sailboat out there that might be headin' f'r trouble so I'm a might concerned `bout that!"
"It's just like you to worry about other people! So--how are you Ben? I hear from--certain sources--that you've been moping since I left."
"I wouldn't call it mopin', exactly..." the big man replied. "But, yeah ol' Son, I do find I miss you baby!"
"And I miss you too..."
"So--how's life in DC?" Ben asked, trying to keep his tone light and casual. "Didja ever find out why they yanked ya back so abruptly?"
"No, I didn't!" Ethan replied and the other man could hear annoyance in his voice. "I'm stuck doing paperwork a Junior Analyst usually handles. I'm not included in meetings and if I didn't know better, I'd say people are treating me like I haven't showered in a few weeks! Clearly I pissed off somebody important--I just don't know who or why!"
"I'm sorry t' hear that Ethan..." Ben did his best to send comforting vibes to his erstwhile boyfriend. "I wish there was somethin' I could do..."
"You could try opening up to the awen," the voice on the phone said. "Who knows? Maybe the heavens will open and an answer will come down!"
Ben sat silently for a moment as he felt the spark of knowledge kindle inside him. "Martin Oberdorf complained to some allies in the White House," he finally said. "He complained you were `unfairly' targetin' th' Sons of Purity..."
"Shit, god-damn, hell and mother-fucker!" Ethan rarely swore but this bit of information clearly set him off. "Damn! I was afraid of that..."
"So--now that you're certain what `r' ya gonna do?"
"I don't know..." came the tentative reply. "I guess I'm going to have to think long and hard about whether I want to continue working with the CIA."
"With your background an' resume you won't have any trouble gettin' a job anywhere ya choose," Ben said. "Maybe y' c'd apply at Future Dynamics r Wonderworks? It wouldn't s'rprise me t' learn either r both comp'nies have `Exotic' connections..."
"They do," Ethan told him. "And, you know, that just might be an idea! I'll have to give that some very serious thought..." Then: "so--you doing anything fun to pass the time while I'm away?"
"CC Fox n' Rupert Forbes r' takin' me t' a gay bar tomorrow night," the Texan replied unenthusiastically. "Quotin' `Roops' here--th' best way f'r ya t' get OVER somebody is t' get UNDER someone else!"
"And here I thought Roops' was a bottom!" Ben wondered if he heard a tinge of jealousy in the other man's voice. "I'm sure you'll be the Number One A List' bear in the place!"
"Assumin' the place ain't nothin' but Twinks..." Ben said unenthusiastically. "Honestly, I'm thinkin' `bout callin' up th' boys t' cancel..."
"Don't you DARE!" Ethan exclaimed. "Don't sit at home being miserable! Go out--have a good time! Now that you've woken up to yourself please don't waste your life pining after a lost love! You know what that did to you when you lost Robyn!"
The Texan sighed, remembering the black pit of despair he'd let himself sink into and he didn't want to go back there. "Maybe I will..." he finally told the other man, "but I won't enjoy it!"
Rainbow's End proved to be everything Ben feared it would be--hot (with heat not sexual tension), crowded and, above all, noisy. The alternately too-bright then virtually dark lighting strained the big man's eyes and the Thwump! Thwump! Thwump! of the high-volume "dance" music was giving him a throbbing headache. Worst of all were the overpriced, watered-down drinks. At least the place offered a diverse crowd; yes, the bar was overrun with Twinks but there were some bears (cubs mostly but a few older ones), some muscle studs and even a Drag Queen or two sprinkled in for variety. There was even a good number of women at the club.
Most of the patron took a quick look at Ben and found him wanting in some way deciding he was either too old, too fat, too out-of-style or two much of a freak thanks to the eye patch. Ben wasn't given to flights of self-pity but being in this crowd made him feel old, grumpy and decidedly out-of-sorts. Worst of all the two men that dragged him to this God-forsaken place had dumped him and left Ben to fend for himself moments after they came through the door.
"Hey Pops! The Senior Center is a couple of doors down!" This comment was met with a gale of raucous laughter from several Twinks.
"Poor thing!" another one cooed, oozing fake sympathy. "Are you lost Gramps? Let's see if you have a phone number on you so we can call your caregiver!" The speaker, a twee little man in skinny jeans and a puffy shirt made to rifle Ben's clothing to the delighted hoots of his friends.
"Touch me ya little Fuck an' I'll rip yer arm off an' beat ya t' death with it!" the Texan growled. Ben showed the young man a balled-up fist. "It ain't wise t' piss off yer elders' boy!"
"I think he means it ladies," rumbled a voice from Ben's blind side. "Shoo, shoo before the Wolverteddy gets mad and shows you his Adamantium Teeth and Claws!" The twee little man and his annoying friends dispersed quickly.
Ben turned to the new arrival. "Wolverteddy?" he said. "Haven't heard that `un b'fore but I think I like it!"
"It suits you," replied the stranger. At 6'2" he was nearly as tall as Ben and just as broad. The slightest of concavities could be seen at his belly but otherwise the new arrival was quite muscular. His hair was dishwater blond and cut short; his eyes were a most unusual shade of honey gold. He had something of a "farmer's tan" which was clearly on display as was a goodly amount of hair on his chest and arms. "Patrick Sullivan," he said, extending a big paw. "Pleased to meet you! My friends call me `Sully'!"
"Ben Dover," the Texan said as he took the offered hand and gave it a firm shake.
"We've barely met!" Sully quipped, but then he favored the other man with a broad smile. "Yeah, Sergeant Sam talks about you--a lot! He's very impressed with you Captain!"
"You know Sgt. Southwick?" the brown-haired Texan asked.
"We usually end up working together," the sandy-haired bear replied. "I guess the other Cops are afraid of catching our gay cooties!"
Now it was Ben's turn to smile. "I feel f'r ya buddy," he said. "I can't imagine it's easy bein' an out Gay Cop!"
"It's not as bad as it once was," Sully replied. "But, yeah, there's a lot of Homophobia in the Department. Of course, when a quarter of the town is gay and most of them vote the City and the Police Department have been pretty much forced to alter their attitude--especially since the Reformers got a foothold on the city Council!"
Ben nodded. "M' brother told me th' Politicians in this town r cooked as a dog's leg," he offered. "From what I've seen it looks like that cancer' has spread t' th' Police as well..."
"No shit Sherlock!" Sully gave the other man a rueful smile. "Welcome to Kings Harbor--where Justice is for sale to the highest bidder! But--on a lighter note--what's a nice old bear like you doing in a place like this?"
"Some friends' o' mine thought it ud be good f'r me to get out an' mingle," he said. (Ben wasn't feeling very charitable toward CC and Roops right now.) "I--broke up with m', sort of-almost boyfriend so they thought I should get out an' socialize! Course two seconds after they dragged me in here, they ran off an' left me stranded..."
Now it was Sully's turn to wear the rueful smile. "You too? My boyfriend just dumped me; he said I didn't `challenge' him--whatever the hell THAT'S supposed to mean!"
"You didn't fight with him?" the Texan suggested.
"Who knows? Who cares?" Sully replied making a comical moue. "His loss! Like the dating app says there's Plenty O' Fish!" Some people I know said this is a good pick up spot but frankly I'd rather be at the Magic Dragon! The music is better, the lighting isn't so damn harsh and the crowd is generally nicer!"
"Th' Magic Dragon?" Ben said. "What's that?"
"It's a `Betsy' Bar!" Sully replied.
Ben looked blank. "Betsy?" he said, confused.
"Neo-Elizabethan/Celtic Rock," the younger man told him. "AKA New Betsy or just Betsy!"
"Ah--now I remember!" Ben said. The "Betsy" craze was one of the many changes that had come after Scientists and Engineers at Future Dynamics had created and began manufacturing Cold Fusion Batteries and Power Spheres. The super-science breakthroughs of Future Dynamics and later Wonderworks along with the Catholic schism when the Irish Church broke with Rome and many American Catholic Churches following them into a more-progressive path had paved the way for the "New Betsy" movement; so had the rise of Cosplay and a general acceptance of the strange and different.
"Yeah," Sully commented (as if he'd sensed Ben's train of thought)," we've had a lot of push-back from Big Oil and the Traditionalists but I think that train has left the station and won't be returning any time soon!"
"You some kind o' Telepath son?" the Texan asked, half-surprised at his own suspicion.
"Does that bother you?"
The big man thought for a minute. "Actually--no..." he finally admitted. "I don't `spose ya have any real control over it?"
"My ability is weak and erratic at best--thank God!" Sully said. "I've never deep-dived into someone's consciousness--just picked up random surface thoughts. Not that I'd really WANT to go deeper--in most cases at least..."
"Considerin' ever'thin' else I've discovered recently I guess I shouldn't s'rprise me that psychic abilities exist along with Magic and multiple Elder Gods!"
"Really?" the younger man exclaimed. "Fuck--ME!"
{{I'd love to...}} Ben tried broadcasting the words mentally and Sully's surprised and pleased smile told him the words had been heard.
{{This is fucking amazing!}} The Texan could clearly see the other man's mouth wasn't moving but he heard the words as clear as day. {{I've never been able to `mind-speak' with anyone before!}} Along with the words came the feeling of excitement and a bit of trepidation.
{{Easy Tiger!}} Ben tried to project comfort and reassurance at the other man and was gratified to see his breathing slow a little. {{Like anythin' new this will take a bit o' getting' used to! Take it slow buckaroo--don't overwhelm me `r yourself...}} The big man realized he should have felt terrified or violated but he just felt a sense of curiosity and a strange peace. Communicating this way was coming as naturally as speech.
{{This is so weird!}} Sully's breathing was back to normal but his pupils were still dilated. {{I wonder if I can do this with other people?}}
{{Only time will tell,}} the brown-haired man replied. {{Take is slow son--ya don't know how much this is takin' out of you!}}
{{Yes, Jedi Master!}} Ben felt an amused warmth wash over him like being bathed in champagne bubbles. Then Sully spoke again. {{I want to try something new--are you up for an experiment?}}
Ben found he could easily push the noise and distraction of Rainbow's End in this mental place he found himself. {{Go ahead,}} he sent. {{Just be prepared to shut down if you feel y'rself getting' tired!}}
{{This might surprise us both...}} Now it was Sully's turn to be the comforter.
The noise and chaos of the bars seemed to retreat until there was nothing but empty, utterly disorienting blackness around the two men. Ben was about to become uncomfortable when a floor materialized under their feet. Then walls, ceiling and furniture materialized and the two men seemed to be standing in a large and comfortably well-appointed bedroom with a King Size Bed of truly epic proportions. "What do you think Big Bear?" Ben knew the words were broadcast but now he seemed to hear them in Sully's own voice.
Ben reached out and touched the smooth mahogany bedpost. "I c'n feel that!" he exclaimed. Again, the man knew he was broadcasting but he heard the words in his own voice.
Sully pulled his tee shirt off over his head revealing a beefy chest covered with soft brown hair. "Touch me!" he said, his voice soft and eager. "I wonder if we can feel in here..."
"One-way t' find out," the Texan replied as he stepped forward. As Ben approached the other man his nose filled with the heady aroma of Old Spice, sweat and man-musk. "We c'n certainly SMELL in here!" he observed as he touched Sully's chest. The abundant hair tickled his palms. Ben reached out to tweak a nipple. "Can ya feel that?" he asked.
"Oh yes!" Sully breathed. "I can feel everything--and it feels fucking amazing!" The younger man came into Ben's arms and gave him a deep passionate kiss. "You're beard feels wonderful!"
"Beard?" This comment broke the sex-spell for Ben. "What beard?"
"Look in the mirror!"
The Texan looked over to find a large dresser with an ornate mirror hung over it. He still had his eye patch but now his same weathered but still-handsome face sported a neatly trimmed beard that hugged his strong jaw. "What d' ya think buddy?" he asked. "C'n I rock the face fur?"
"You're fucking hotter than ever!" Sully replied. He came up next to Ben. "Let me try something..." The Texan watched in silent amazement as several days of scruff appeared on the man's chin and jaw line. "You like?"
"I think I do!" Ben pulled the younger man in for another deep, hot kiss. He found he enjoyed the tickle of hairs against his lips as he gently sucked Sully's lower lip before going in for second tongue-dance. "I wonder what th' folks back at th' Bar `r' seein'." he said once he finally came up for air.
"Probably the two of us staring blankly into each other's eyes!"
"Hopefully we ain't droolin'!" Ben replied. Once the big man concentrated on the outside, he realized he could still perceive that space although it seemed vague and ghostly. He also realized he was picking up an echo of what Sully was feeling. It was somewhat distracting but at least he knew the other man was enjoying the experience as much as him.
Both men were in the middle of yet another burning-hot kiss when their "Mind Garden" was shattered by the outside world; loud bangs and frightened screams forced the pair back into reality and Cop mentality. "Fuck!" Ben exclaimed. "We've got an active shooter!"
"And we're both unarmed!" Sully screamed. "Over the bar! Maybe we can find something back there..."
The two men threw themselves over the wooden structure to find the Bartender cowering behind the bar scared half to death. "D' ya have a gun back here?" Ben asked, "a knife? Anythin' we c'n use as a weapon?"
The Bartender gave the man a large-eyed stare but shook his head. "The Manager has a pistol in his office..." he finally said. "At least I think he does!"
"Where is it?" Ben snapped. The frightened bartender gave the two men directions. "I s'pect y'r a better shot `n me," the big man told Sully. "Stay low an' I'll try t' distract th' shooter once you're in the open!" The young Cop nodded then made his way to the end of the bar.
The shooter was concentrating on other areas of the club so Sully was able to make his way to the back hallway where he found several patrons vainly trying to escape through a locked door. "It won't open!" someone shouted.
"Don't PANIC!" Sully tried to broadcast calming thoughts. {{"Panicking will only attract the shooter's attention!"}} the man speak/said trying to force his thoughts at the frightened patron. He realized the door was likely blocked from the outside. {{"Head upstairs--maybe we can find an escape or a place to hide!"}}
Meanwhile downstairs Ben had moved up to see if he could locate where the gunfire was coming from. It wasn't surprising to see the gunman blocking the front entrance and judging by how bodies were piling up at the exits the former cop was afraid they'd been blocked from the outside (which meant the shooter had help). Ben spotted CC and Roops (both alive at least for now) but the shooter was moving toward them; he had to do something and FAST! "Hey ASSHOLE!" he bellowed. "Over here!" The man followed the comment with a rain of expensive liquor bottles. One bottle missed entirely but another hit the barrel of the AK47, knocking it away enough to ensure the Texan would live for a little while longer.
The shooter, blinded by rage, fired blindly in Ben's direction but aimed high so the Texan was able to take shelter under the bar. He hoped the wood and metal was strong enough to allow him to survive long enough for the Cops to arrive or Sully to get back with a weapon. Right now, all he could do was fight to save himself, his friends and the other club patrons. Ben tossed a bottle of Jamison's that hit the shooter just above the left temple. Blood mixed with strong and expensive whiskey poured down the shooter's face but he didn't stop coming! At least he was turning away from the entrance allowing a few patrons to escape but the fact that the interloper was still up and intent on mayhem made the Texan realize he had to be on something--probably Lotus.
More bullets flew and the big man felt one graze his shoulder. "God--DAMN it!" he swore as an electric thrill of pain shot through his body. With nothing else to do he kept chucking bottles of booze hoping to hit the shooter again and maybe blind him.
Another arc of bullets flew and ben heard a scream. {{I found a gun but I'm hit bad!}} came Sully's mental voice. {{Can you get to me Wolverteddy? You're gonna have to take this asshole down!}}
{{On my way buddy!}} Bent sent back. {{Don't you die on me!}}
{{I may not have a choice...}} The Texan could feel the other man's life-force ebbing even as he tried to get closer. {{Take this bastard down Ben! You have to save them...}} And then Sully was gone.
Ben realized he was going to have a lot to process later; he'd only known Sully for a few minutes but he'd grown to love the other man and now someone else close to him had died. The revolver, a Walther PPK was clutched in the Cop's dead hand and Ben had no choice but to take it up and fire. The awen took him and the Texan emptied the revolver into the gunman. One last spray of bullets rained down but this time took no new victims as the gunman went down. It was over...
"He's in Bed One," commented Stacy, Ben's excessively-cheerful Nurse, "but I'd be careful of him if I were you our Benjy can be a real Grumpy-Pants!"
"Benjy?" Sgt. Sam Southwick stepped into the Texan's line of sight. "Did anyone ever call you Benjy'? Or Grumpy-Pants' for that matter!"
"I'll cop t' Grumpy Pants'," the Texan said. "I know Nurse Stacy is tryin' her best but if she asks me one more time how are we, Mr. Dover?' I just might strangle her!" Then: "what c'n' ya tell me `bout th' incident?"
"All six of your bullets hit the gunman--and in a tight pattern to boot!" the young brown-haired Cop said with a certain admiration in spite of himself. "Were you a Marksman back in Houston?"
"I won a few medals," Ben replied without joy. "I think those shots had more t' do with m' awen though..."
That's definitely NOT going in the report!" Sam said.
"You didn't give me an answer Mister?" Ben used his best `Cop' voice.
"Twenty-four dead--plus the shooter," Sam said. "Over a hundred injuries including both CC and Roops but the injuries are minor. Rainbow's End is a complete mess and they'll likely end up closing the club--maybe forever!"
"Score one f'r th' Sons of Purity!" Ben scowled.
"How did you..." Sam didn't finish the sentence but gave the big man in the bed a hard look.
"I didn't," Ben replied, "until now! So--th' shooter had connections t' th' Sons? Did they do an autopsy an, if so, what did they find?"
"Another moment of awen?" Sam asked.
"Mebbe f'r th' Lotus," Ben replied. "T' other was just Cop instinct!"
Sam nodded. "The shooter, Ambrose `Rowdy' Roth was a hanger-on to the Blackshirts," he said. "The Autopsy found traces of White, Red and Black Lotus as well as a high concentration of Meth and Cocaine. We're pretty sure he had help since all the ground floor exits to the Club were blocked from the outside!"
"Fuck!"
"It could have been worse," Sam told him. "He was carrying five rifles and enough ammo for a battalion! One thing though--none of those guns are registered to him! Or anyone else for that matter!"
"It was a hit." Ben's words were flat.
Sam nodded. "We just don't know whether it was on someone specific--you--or if the `Sons' just wanted to massacre a bunch of gays!"
Ben sighed. "It's only gonna get worse...
END CHAPTER TWELVE