Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Sex, Substances, Sin, Salvation ❯ I - E - Fate is a Good Witness Protection Program ( Chapter 5 )

Sex, Substances, Sin, Salvation

How these 4 `s' words are intertwined.

By Masamune Reforged

WhenShootingStarsFall.com

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the characters, they are the property of Bandai, Sunrise or someone else, but not me. I use them for no-profit whatsoever, but for entertainment's gain.

Warnings: Yaoi (lots of pairings and lemons later, but nothing more than shounen-ai for right now) cursing, drug use, violence, angst, insanity, cameos, AU, lunacy, sanity.

 

Part E of “Fate Works at a 24/7 Convenience Store” Act I in the s4 arc.

“Fate is a Good Witness Protection Program”

Heero's POV

 

“Just one minute,” I told the masked thief. There was something I had to handle first.

 

The cashier had seen my face. He had even heard me say my name. I couldn't believe I had blurted that out loud...

 

My blood began to boil as I felt the sensation beginning to bubble and surge in my gut, my nervous system steaming with the power of resolve.

 

I strode over to the cashier, who was stupidly sitting on the floor, rubbing his wrung neck. He looked up at me as I approached. I felt like liquid smoke, a walking mass of spontaneous combustion. I stared at him blankly, betraying nothing.

 

I took a deep breath, cocked my left leg back a bit, and kicked my foot directly into the cashier's crotch. Size 10s smashed into his testicles.

 

“AHGCH!” A cough, a sob and a wail all balled up together in the cashier's throat. His hands instinctively went to his ballsack, which assuredly would be black-and-blue in the morning. He began to cry.

 

I knelt down in front of him. He didn't even writhe away. He was too busy trying to breathe and block out the pain. His eyes were even shut, as if he could somehow block out the pain by blinding himself to the agonizing reality. I had to open his eyes and make him come to grips with his plight. I didn't have time to waste on this scum. More than one hostage was only trouble, another distraction. The sound of gunshots would make the police storm the place. He would live, but I wanted him to wish for death.

 

I stretched out my gun arm. The cashier's eyes were squeezed shut in agony. I put the nozzle of the pistol under his chin, lifting his head up. I needed him to look at me. He did, but only for a second. He squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to block it all out. I pushed the point of the gun up to his throat. His eyes shot wide open. The pressure of a gun's nozzle threatening to crush the veins and walls of your respiratory system often does that.

 

I looked into his eyes and said plainly, “I have no time for you; so if you waste it, I will take your life right here in front of these four people. I will leave soon, but you will stay right here. You will not move from this spot or call for help, and if you do, I will find you. If you ever tell the police anything about me, you will die, slowly. You can never escape from me. That is impossible. Do you understand?”

 

He nodded weakly. The tears flowed freely, giving a salty sheen to his pimply cheeks.

“Say it!”

 

“I-I understand,” He sobbed pathetically. He looked back down at his crotch. The tears came faster. He was feeling so sorry for himself.

 

I had to make sure he would never say a word to the police, ever. He had to believe that no witness protection program in the world could keep him safe. That was the truth. It wouldn't do him one bit of good. More pressingly, I didn't have much time to ensure this.

 

I reached down to my right shoe. I tapped twice on one spot on the outer ridge of where the sole connects to the suede material. From the ridgeline a 1.5 inch blade popped out perfectly into my palm. I fingered it tightly. The breath caught in my throat. My heart rate sped up.

 

I cursed the time. I wanted to draw this out, enjoy it for as long as possible. I could spend an eternity slowly shredding this poor excuse for a human being to small, insignificant ribbons. But I doubted the cashier would last long. His will to live would quickly fall to the escape of death, easily succumbing to the bliss that would accompany the cessation of his vital functions, the shutting down of the brain. No, he would escape the agony too soon to be any fun for me... And I didn't have that kind of time...

 

“You will not forget what I look like. It will stay with you forever. I will be in your nightmares. You will fear for your family, your loved ones, your friends, fear that I will kill them all. You will never tell anyone about me. If you do, your nightmares will come true.”

 

I looked into his eyes.

 

His fear did not satisfy me.

 

I grabbed the cashier's hand. It was like holding a luke-warm fish that had been de-scaled. I showed him the blade. I made sure he saw it. The fear flickered in his eyes. Against the fabric of my boxers, my penis began to harden. I sucked in a breath through my nose, savoring the smell of his terror. He shook his head weakly from side-to-side. He tried to take his hand back. I tightened my grip. He began to squirm and protest aloud:

 

“No-”

 

I stuck the blade into his hand, cutting into the nerves at the base of his ring finger. My hand was over his mouth, muffling what would have been screams. The vein was severed easily. It began to ooze out, running in a tiny stream down his wrist, abandoning him. I watched it run. I put more pressure on his wrist. The flow increased, the trickle turned into a slow stream.

 

I ran the knife over to his pinky. It cut that nerve just as easily as the previous. More blood. I had to focus to keep the cashier from biting me or from wriggling free. He reeked of sweat and urine now. His eyes were bulging, the sweat beading like bubbling pox. Depending on how much he'd had to drink he'd finish soaking his underwear before I was done.

 

I kept the blade inside his hand, slowly dragging it down the side of his palm, around the outside of his hand, opening more and more escape for the lifeblood. Several red rivers ran this way and that, all escaping. I dragged it all the way down, and then pulled the blade out. The cut ran from his ring finger, to his pinky and down the side of his hand. The skin was awash in red.

 

I couldn't stop the smile from stretching my cheeks. I was smiling so hard it almost hurt. The amusement and excitement bubbled in my throat, making it hard to speak without roaring in laughter.

 

I pricked his thumb. “Do.” A drop of blood appeared. “You.” I poked his pointer. “Under.” His middle finger. “Stand.” His chalk white pale ring finger yielded no blood. “Me?” His mutilated pinky was just as empty.

 

He nodded, too weak to say anything.

 

“Good.”

 

I brought the blade down quickly, using all my force to send it through the center of the cashier's palm. It stuck clear out the other side of his hand.

 

The cashier saw it and passed out.

 

I pulled the blade out and put it back in its hidden compartment in my shoe. I slapped him heavily across the face.

 

The cashier was conscious again.

 

I stood up, looking down at him. His crying eyes were locked on mine. “Put ice on it and wait ten minutes before leaving this building. If you do otherwise I will kill you.” I ordered, and turned away.

 

I would masturbate to this memory that night.

 

-end Heero's POV.

-end “Fate is a Good Witness Protection Program”, part E of Page I in the Sex, Substances, Sin, Salvation arc.

-feedback to MasamuneEHS@hotmail.com Hope you liked.

 

Next: “Fate is Unreasonable Affection”