Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Blood Red Storm ❯ The First Time is Always the Bloodiest ( Chapter 2 )

The First Time is Always the Bloodiest

 

In 4043, Ortonse Fisher had sat in his crème leather chair in his office from his mansion that overlooked Pearl. Refined, regal, and revoltingly pompous, he addressed the city from the safety of his fortified home. A face of stone, the handsome fifty-some-year-old showed no remorse for what he had done. Many changes were on their way to this fair stretch of land, he had informed them.

 

From that moment on, he was in charge of their lives. Government in the sense civilians knew no longer existed. He had plans for Aquaria's flourishing super-city, and the common folk were not going to get in his way. Ortonse knew what was for the best of them, and they would be just fine as long as they understood he was in command. It was unfortunate what had to be done to those poor people inside the Worthington Zoo, but that was the former law enforcement and government's fault. If they had been reasonable, such measures would not have been taken.

 

It was disgusting how quickly the people of Pearl gave into him. No matter Gale's inner pleading, no help arrived. No army came to lay waste to Ortonse's thugs who suddenly patrolled the streets, no special broadcasting from the President of the United States of Old America waging personal war on the bastard, and no revolts from the people suddenly stuck inside Aquaria. That might have been the biggest betrayal, in Gale's opinion. No one fought back.

 

Aquaria was heavily influenced by Fisher. Every fucking city on the piece-of-shit island practically had his seal on it. Nothing happened without his knowledge or say-so. Gale's parents had begged for him to return home after they had watched the tragedy of Worthington unfold on TV. Bastian was not suffering and Sean would not have wanted him to be alone and in such a state. A state Gale honestly could not remember being in. Given the circumstances, he hadn't lost his job, but they warned him after his hospital visit, which he remembered nothing of the first two weeks, that he needed to get a grip or he was out.

 

Apparently he had fainted in his house, had been unconscious for nearly a week, and only survived because a friend of his and Sean's had stopped by and broke in when he hadn't answered. Gale had stopped eating, talking, sleeping. Nothing mattered. Finally his body could handle no more abuse and shut down. He had been in the hospital for nearly a month with the diagnosis of severe malnourishment. He supposed that happened when one hardly ate or slept for three weeks. They made him go to counseling. He had lied his way through what everyone found a surprisingly short term.

 

His time in the hospital - he thanked the drugs that made him sleep and the forced meals - had him come to a conclusion about his life. No one was going to right any of the wrongs committed against Pearl. Since he was a walking dead man, he'd do it himself. The only time he felt alive was when he was planning death. Ortonse was going to die by his hand, no matter the time it took him.

 

The day he was released from his sterile captivity, Gale returned home to clean house. Everything of Sean's was gathered up. Pictures, clothes, his pillow, jewelry, and his silver and amethyst ring he had gotten back after his body was found, were carted away in boxes to Bastian's silent room. Toys still lying on the living room floor and on the staircase were quickly shut and locked away in what was becoming his loved ones' tomb. He couldn't stand looking at any of their belongings. After that, he made an evening shopping run. Groceries were badly in need and also a few choice pieces of equipment. The rest of the night and early morning were spent organizing his newly bought gym gear. By the time he fell into bed, his exhaustion had bought a night of no nightmares.

 

Now, eleven years later, Gale could not remember a time he wasn't working out, wasn't training. The house that had once been full of love and warmth was now devoid of anything that didn't suit his current purposes. He never had friends over so there was no need to keep anything around for receiving guests. A computer for work and research as well as a TV he still indulged in, but all Gale needed was his personal gym to stay in top physical shape.

 

A lot had changed in eleven years, he supposed. Never one to put much thought into his appearance, Gale had always had a slender figure - nothing special, a tad on the nerdy skinny side. Now he was a wiry, svelte machine. He had trained hard for this night. Tonight everything he had worked for was going to begin to pay off. He had studied hard his defensive skills, his knowledge of weapons that had caught his eye, and was confident in his abilities. If he wanted to, he could snap a person's head completely around and tear their throat out without the slightest effort.

 

A detached smile crept over Gale's face; Andre Tatou would not have a quick death. The smile grew wider, feral and promising unpleasant things to come. Lightning illuminated the soaked man, making his skin like milk, his shoulder-length hair like red-black blood. The rain was coming down hard, prickling his flesh with every hit. This weather suited the events well. Tatou did not deserve a last sunny day. He was a living dead man.

 

He died eleven years ago really, didn't he, my loves? Gale's black-gloved hands tightened into hard fists. Eyes of electric ocean and creamy jade, full of laughter and life, flashed before his mind's eye and he felt an extra surge of adrenaline. Another memory ripped through his head, causing his blue eyes to take on a maniacal sheen. Two twin coffins, dark ebony wood, shiny and differing in sizes. One the size of an adult, incasing a petite man; the other harboring a little boy dressed in his best suit.

 

Andre was going to die soon, and Gale could hardly wait.

 

The sound of an approaching car brought him out of his reverie. From his position on the roof, he spotted a shiny limousine come over the hill toward him. Across the street it parked, just like always, and as the other times before, a balding, middle-aged man stepped out and hurried inside a poorly built, two-story building. He gave the fucker five minutes before he slipped from his vigilance. The driver, asleep and unaware did not stir as he walked right in front of the car and into the building.

 

No one else was around of importance. This was one of the reasons Andre liked this place. Also, the other tenants of the apartments who had figured out the retired general's weekly schedule always conveniently found somewhere else to be when he visited.

 

Weak bastards, Gale mentally snarled. Everyone was too fucking afraid anymore!

 

His rage built to unstable levels as he silently made his way up the rickety stairs. Only eight years old and the building was falling apart. Gale wanted to laugh at the condition of the run-down shitholes now taking up many areas of Wisteria Cove - previously the site of one of the parks of Fallen Greenwich. Ortonse had succeeded in making the once beautiful plots of land the breeding ground for crime and depression.

 

Love what he did with the place, Sean? And here we thought a playground for our boy was more important than whorehouses. Gale's jaw clenched but he remained completely silent as he walked down the hall to apartment 3-B. The door wasn't even closed all the way.

 

Shelby Whittaker was a slip of a nerdy eighteen-year-old boy. Born a year before Aquaria was ready for settlement, his parents had taken him when he was one from their London home to live there. His existence had been happily ignorant until he was eleven. Just a year after Fisher had taken over, many drastic changes had occurred in his life. For one, his father - Governor of Pearl - had disappeared shortly after Fisher's televised statement. Shelby would always remember his dad leaving during their evening meal to try and sort out the unfolding tragedy and never returned. Not even a week later his mother was taken into custody. Shelby found himself an orphan that was kicked out of his home with only a few possessions.

 

Travel became restricted. The cost of leaving became ridiculous, and when one's account was suddenly frozen, five hundred dollars and up for a lousy one hundred mile ferry ride was too much. There was no way to get to friends and the protection of his family in other countries. Ortonse was looking for him, so he spent his days hiding out in the congested part of the city, but he could not stop the paranoia from creeping up on him. It was only a week into his harder living when he found him. The customary thing to do was kill Whittaker's entire family, in Fisher's opinion. Gutting the boy would have sent his enemies a strong message. They better have impenetrable lives if they wanted to stand up to him. There wasn't anything he couldn't get away with.

 

However, five-star General Tatou, with thinning salt and pepper hair was there with Ortonse when Shelby had been brought in. The boy had not noticed his gray eyes latching onto his every movement, but Ortonse had and smiled inwardly at the inevitable. As he had his right-hand man Li graze Shelby's skin with one of his delicate blades, Tatou had asked if he could keep the boy himself. It would be such a waste to let a fine piece like him die without first trying to train him. Shelby could only standby in utter horror as he was bought for thirteen thousand dollars. For seven years Shelby Whittaker had been Andre's servant and whipping boy, later his whore when he blossomed into a fair, handsome thing at sixteen.

 

Gale stepped into the main room, his feet silent on the thread-bare carpet. It smelled of air freshener and rainy wind - Shelby always tried to hide the traces of cologne and sex once he was alone. For a year Gale had kept tabs on the young man. Tatou had made his living very difficult. Never quite becoming the slave he wanted, Andre punished Shelby with bleak quarters. The married man and father to seven would lavish gifts on him, beat him, give him more gifts, have a drink from the bar Shelby was made to keep in stock, and then rape him. For a year Gale had watched, and nothing ever changed, except for the fact that Shelby had graduated from high school with good grades and planned to slip away overseas to a college near his uncle's home.

 

Gale wandered around the room, finally taking in what his outside spying could never give him. Small posters were pasted here and there on the cheap yellow and pink rose pattern-papered walls. Most were of places. Florence, Mount Rushmore, Greece, and the Taj Mahal stared hopefully at him and Gale had to look away before he ripped them down. It was nice to see the kid still thought he could get out. A cracking slap echoed from the room over. No pleading or sounds of pain followed. However, there was a gasp and then a groan, hints of disgust carefully contained beneath, as cloth ripping met his ears. Gale couldn't help smiling as he sent the crystal vase of long-stemmed, crimson roses to the floor with a loud shatter.

 

Voices too far away to understand drifted to his ears, more sharp slaps, and finally a pained hiss. Something was snarled, something about seeing his boyfriend. Heavy, angry footsteps made their way across the bedroom. Gale's breath hitched for a moment before he relaxed, his body becoming invisible in the shadows as he heard the rusted door knob rattle.

 

“Don't move from that spot,” Andre barked back into the bedroom before slamming and locking the door.

 

Andre Tatou had changed quite a bit since his army days. He was sent to Aquaria to help with troops, and to also help him adjust to the paradise he would be retiring to. Fourteen years ago he had met Ortonse Fisher at a dinner for the island's elite. The billionaire engineer had made an impression on him, ensnaring him with the glittery life he generously let him be a part of. Within months he was a spoiled follower of the man. He retired and soon grew fat off of his bestowed wealth and power. Ortonse had played him from the beginning.

 

Fucker, Gale ground his teeth. Without his influence, more could have been done during and after the Worthington bombings. Tatou had most of the higher-ups in the army under his thumb. He had sat back and let Aquaria be taken. All for Fisher's tainted money. He watched, sick amusement in his eyes as the pudgy geezer stomped around the sparse living room, snatching up the drapes to look behind and glancing out into the cold hall.

 

“Whatever the little skeez told you, you can fuck off, lover boy! He's gonna be busy for the rest of the night,” Andre snorted. “Unless, of course, you want to chat with your boyfriend while I have my dick in his sweet ass?”

 

“Sorry, but I am pretty sure little Shelby in there is asexual.” Gale relished in the startled gasp from his future victim and the way he spun around.

 

Already buggy eyes bulged in surprise at the sight before them. Who wouldn't be? It wasn't every day he came over to fuck his jewel into his lumpy mattress only to be interrupted and find some dust-head in the apartment. The intruder was frightening to behold. Intense, wild blue eyes stared out from a chiseled alabaster face. Standing at five foot nine, the man was all in black. Wrapped in a trench coat, Andre shivered at seeing drops of water roll down the black leather.

 

“Congratulations, old man,” Gale smiled and stepped closer, pushing the wet locks of thick red hair away from his face. “You succeeded in turning him off of both genders for probably his entire life.”

 

Andre narrowed his eyes. He would not cower and he would not let this bastard offend him. He was Andre Tatou for fuck's sake. “Who are you? More importantly, do you know who I am, boy?”

 

He is making this too easy, Sean! Andre only had a second to realize the danger of the situation as Gale smiled widely before rushing him. No matter how he struggled, the man had gone soft. He could hardly move from his pinned position against the bedroom door. Gale's coat fluttered as he swept his hand behind him and came back with a silver-handled dagger in his grasp. Gale's eyes closed in bliss as Andre screamed when the blade went through his shoulder and held firmly to the wood behind him.

 

“Oh, you don't know how happy I am you asked that,” Gale's voice was a breathy purr, rumbling with satisfaction.

 

Disgust bubbled up as he watched tears leak out of the older man's eyes. Pussy. He had seen the aftermath of what the sick fuck did to Shelby many times and this could never compare. One gloved hand grasped his double chin and turned him so he could look into his eyes. Andre felt smothered in those stormy blue orbs. This man was obviously not all there.

 

“Andre Tatou, age fifty-three, second son of Walter and Victoria Tatou,” Gale rambled as his other hand came up spinning another dagger that he slammed into the man's uninjured shoulder. The scream made his adrenaline thump. The warmth from the spray of blood could be felt through his shirt and he had to control his lust for more. “Born in Chicago, Illinois, you later left for New Mexico and soon after joined the army.” He grinned at the wide-eyed terror he received after retrieving another blade. Gale sent that one into his hand, another into his thigh. The door shook as he banged the man's head into the flimsy wood.

 

“You never were a decent human being. Your ambitions got you to the top of the ranks. Your appetites left uncountable underlings broken.” He scoffed at the gurgling coming from the near hysterical man as he traced the unbuckled belt and brief's hem with his finger. “How many new recruits did you rape, General? How many boys and men did you force your disgusting cock into? Too many to remember, hmm?” He savored the sob he received when he pulled the man's flaccid penis from his pants. “Oh, but I'm getting off-track, General.” Gale stopped his abuse to settle suddenly malicious eyes on his victim.

 

“Please…” Andre swallowed heavily, his pain getting in the way of his pleading.

 

“I am here to pay back a long overdue punishment, General. Eight years ago you made the worst fuck-up of your life.” Gale held up another knife, cutting the man's fat face. “How dare you think you could allow three hundred and fifty-eight people to be held hostage and blown up and not pay the price? How dare you allow my family be murdered and not have to answer to me?!” Gale slammed the man's head against the door until he heard wood splintering, a bloody smear left behind.

 

“Tha'was…Fisher…Mika…”

 

“Oh yes, they will be paying too, but you have to own up to your part as well, General.” Gale took a step back to admire his work. “And since you are the one that could have stopped Fisher, the most pathetic, and the shittiest excuse for a man I have ever met, I need you to be the first.” Gale pulled on his mouth and shoved a gold coin inside before taping it shut. Andre's pleas and shrill whimpers were music to his ears as he took hold once again of his limp cock. “Goodbye, General Tatou. I look forward to beating the shit out of you again, when I see you in Hell.”

 

In one swift move, Gale had severed the organ from the man's body. Thick blood sprayed across the room and soaked his lower body. It was a good thing he had worn black, but then again, he knew red would be hard to make out on his outfit of choice. Andre reminded him of a pig as he squealed and shrieked from behind his gag. His dulling eyes widened as he watched Gale pull a sword from the folds of his coat. Red life misted Gale's face, and as the man's headless body twitched for the last time, he felt a bit lighter.

 

Frowning once he sheathed his sword, he unlocked the gory door and stepped inside. From their position in front of a mirror, guarded light brown eyes looked up at him as he came closer. Shelby dropped his bloodied tissue to the desktop that he had used on his swollen lip and turned to his strange visitor. He had pulled his ripped, terrycloth robe around himself and when he heard the struggle and bizarre exchange, he decided Andre was never walking through his door again and proceeded to cut his long brown hair. A girly style he loathed but was forced to keep.

 

Gale did not want to stay long. He only threw a rolled up bunch of bills on the kid's stained mattress and nodded toward it. Fifteen hundred bucks wasn't bad to start a new life with. Shelby gazed at the money hungrily, but dared not move. If this was a twisted game, and the tub of lard was out there waiting, he was not going to invite more abuse onto himself.

 

“Get out of Aquaria by tonight. You'll have a few hours before they notice how long he's taking.”

 

A voice like gravel wrapped in dark chocolate broke his thoughts. Before Shelby could fathom what this man meant and thank him, he was alone in his roach-infested home. It took him an hour as he scrambled around to pack what he needed and clutched his money to his chest before stashing it away. As he boarded the ferry, without his wire-frames and his hair concealed in a worn cap, he watched Aquaria, metal land of lost fucking dreams; he smiled thinking about his blood-soaked, insane angel.