Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Vault into Death�s Embrace ❯ One-Shot

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Warning: This story contains scenes with violence, language, homosexuality, and mature subject matter. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

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<center>Vault into Death's Embrace </center>

“What do we have, Jody?” Marcus Summers asked, squatting next to the coroner. His chestnut hair flew freely in the early morning breeze as he examined the bloody victim before him. The young man was in front of a small white house, which had a few flowers in front of what appeared to be the living room window.

“Ryan Daniels, 21,” Jody Gibbs said. Jody was a 5'4" African-American, who never took bull from anyone. She carefully tilted the dead man's head for a better look. “He was beaten badly, but it wasn't here. In the dirt over there, it looks like he was dragged from the house.”

Marcus picked up the camera that he brought with him and snapped several pictures. “Looks like he didn't go down without a fight. He has defense wounds on his upper arms. And, it looks like his attacker left a part of himself behind.” Marcus raised one of the victim's arms, showing the dirt and blood under the nails.

“That will give us a good lead,” she said. “I'll bag his hands so we don't lose or contaminate the evidence.” While Marcus thoroughly photographed the body, Jody put both hands in brown paper bags and tied them off. She looked up at her assistants, who had brought a body bag and a gurney. “Alright boys, you can take him. Marcus, the other body's in the kitchen.” The 5'8” brunet followed her into the house. There were obvious signs of a struggle in the living room. The one of the two couches was turned over, the coffee table broken, and the drapes that hung over the bay window were ripped down. Marcus noted this as they walked through the living room to the kitchen. There, Marcus saw a man lying face down, with a butcher knife in his back. “This is Eric Sheppard, 32. Poor baby didn't know what hit him.”

Even after a year and a half of working with the dark-skinned woman, Marcus was still trying to get used to Jody's bedside manners with the dead. “Are Greg or Robyn here?” Marcus asked, taking his fingerprint dusting powder and brush out to dust the handle of the knife.

Jody smiled. “Greg is looking for the point of entry in the back yard, then he's going to go upstairs to process the bedroom, and Robyn is on a different case with Rick.” Robyn Richards was a feisty blonde from Louisiana, who was so good with ballistics, that she could tell you the name of a bullet with a blind fold on. Greg Jackson was a tall Russian, and an expert with fingerprints and drug identification. Rick Anderson, who grew up in New York, was their day shift supervisor, a friend to the community, and an adversary to the drug lords.

“Alright.” Over the next few hours, Marcus made a detail sketch of the house, front, and back yard, and then started processing the living room. He found blood on the couch and droplets on the floor, which led to a large pool under the over-turned couch. There was also a chunk of hair, near the kitchen doorway. He used powder on the shoe treads left in the carpet and gathered all the shoes he found in the front door and back door closet. He dusted the broken table and found many partials and full fingerprints along the edges.

“I found tool marks in the back door handle,” said a deep voice behind him. Jumping, Marcus whirled around, glaring when he saw who it was.

“Greg, you scared the crap out of me!”

Greg grinned. “Sorry, so is that where Daniels was killed?”

“Yeah, you can see the drag marks in the carpet that lead to the front door and outside,” Marcus said. “I can see why my mom liked these kinds of carpets.”

“'These kinds of carpets?'” Greg repeated, as they went to the kitchen.

“Yeah, this kind of carpet is like snow; you can see where someone has walked, and apparently these guys were clean freaks, so this could help us gather foot prints,” Marcus explained.

“Clean freaks and they were together,” Greg said, taking his fingerprint dust and brush out. “They must have made an interesting couple.”

Marcus raised an eye brow as he used his flashlight to look for stray fibers or hairs. “Together?”

“Yeah, there were pictures of them in the bedroom,” Greg replied absently as he began dusting the counter top.

“Well, judging from the beating Daniels took, I'm guessing someone wasn't too happy with their relationship.”

<hr>

At the crime lab

Greg was in the break room getting a soda from the fridge when his pager went off. Seeing who was calling for him, Greg put the unopened can back in the fridge and headed to the morgue.

“Jody, you beeped?” He said when he got there.

“Yeah, Marcus was right,” She said from her place between Daniels and Sheppard, who were on steel slabs.

“He was right about what?”

“Whoever did this is a sick bastard,” Jody said, motioning for him to come closer. “They're missing certain vital parts of their anatomies.”

Greg felt his stomach churn when he saw blood stains in the sheets covering their bodies. “Must have been done by an anti-gay rights activist.”

“Ryan died from blunt force trauma to the head,” Jody said, pointing to Daniel's bloody skull. She pulled the sheet down to reveal the bruised chest and stomach. “He had several cracked ribs and massive internal bleeding. Poor boy suffered before he was hit hard in the head.”

“Jody, is that a boot print on his chest?” Greg asked, pointing to Daniel's chest.

Jody peered closer. “Looks like it.” She grabbed a camera with a special lens that brought up deep bruises. Taking several pictures, she handed the camera to Greg, who took it.

“I was checking his mouth when I came across this.” She turned to the small table that held her autopsy tools and showed him a small specimen jar with a pink chunk in it.

“Is that…flesh?”

“Yes, I found it in between the first and second molars.” Jody gave him the jar.

“Thanks Jody,” Greg said. “So, is there anything special about our knife victim?”

“Well, he was strangled first with a rope of some kind before he was stabbed.”

Greg looked down at his pager, which was clipped to his belt and beeping. “Really? Could you take pictures of that for me? DNA's calling me.”

“Of course, honey.”

Greg smiled at her. “Thanks Jody.” He headed up to the labs and entered the DNA lab. “Hey, I got your message. Do you have anything good?”

April looked up, nodding. “Yeah, blood from the living room is a match to your vic, Ryan Daniels,” she said, reading the test results from a sheet of paper. “I got a hit in CODIS (Combined DNA Index System) from the skin Dr. Gibbs pulled from Daniels' mouth.” April looked at her computer screen. “Jason Venn, 35. He's been arrested six times for assault and did ten years in prison for bombing a gay club in '93, which killed six people.”

Greg's eyebrows rose. “He killed six people and only got 10 years? His lawyer must be good.”

“No kidding. It says here he has a home near the ports. He's affiliated with that anti-gay rights group that's been stirring up trouble these past few years.”

“Alright, I'll have Elliot send an officer to his home and bring him in for questioning.” Greg said, taking the DNA results. “Thanks, April.”

“I'll page you when I finish the rest of these DNA swabs.”

<hr>

“I hear you got us a suspect already,” Marcus said, entering the room that Greg and Detective Elliot Tombé were in. The room was empty, save for the two-way mirror that showed their suspect, Jason Venn, and an officer keeping an eye on him. Marcus felt a pang of nervousness run through him as he got his first look at their suspect. Venn was so large his arms looked like they were bigger than Marcus' head. Marcus assessed that there wasn't an ounce of fat on the man's body. He was wearing clothing with grease stains on them, suggesting he worked at an auto body shop of some sort. On his left arm, was a bandage peeking out from under his long sleeve.

“Says he ain't speakin' `til his lawyer gets here,” the Texan detective said, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“That was fast,” Marcus commented.

“Considering his lengthy rap sheet, I'm not surprised,” Greg replied.

“Well, he's not the only one in trouble,” Marcus said, opening the file folder he was holding. “The fingerprints I lifted in the kitchen belonged mostly to Daniels and Sheppard, however there were a few that didn't. Four belonged to Venn and several from Andrea May. The chunk of hair I found belongs to Antonio Lackey. The skin and blood under Daniels' nails belonged to Dennis Alexander. All three of them are in the system for various crimes and are a part of Venn's little anti-gay group and are being brought in for questioning.”

“Some days I wonder what's going through people's heads when they commit these crimes, until I come into work and remember, 'they're psycho, stupid, or desperate,'” Greg said as the door to the interrogation room opened and a man in a suit came in. “Show time.”

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“Mr. Venn, I'm glad you could join us,” Greg said, opening his folder, as he and Greg sat across from their suspect and his lawyer.

“Is this going to take long? I have a date with the boys at the bar,” Venn drawled, leaning back in his chair comfortably.

“I bet you do,” Marcus said. “Do you know Ryan Daniels and Eric Sheppard?”

Venn shrugged, his eyes raking over Marcus and Elliot. “Names don't ring any bells.”

“Well, we found your blood an' fingerprints in their home, care to explain that?” Elliot asked from his place behind the two criminalists.

“Oh, you mean Danny-boy and Sheep-Herder? Yeah, I know `em. Biggest fags I ever had the misfortune of layin' eyes on,” Venn said.

“So you admit you know them and have been in their home?” Greg asked.

“I know `em but I ain't ever been in their house,” Venn replied. “That'd be a sin all its own.”

“Try again, Mr. Venn,” Marcus said, pulling photos of blood droplets and fingerprints that were on a table leg and sheets of paper with Venn's complete set of fingerprints and his DNA. “This is your blood and these are your prints. Now unless they were magically placed there, then you better change your story.” Venn watched him, not saying a thing. Marcus was about to ask if he understood what he said when all hell broke loose.

Venn jumped across the table, knocking Greg and Marcus to the ground. In a fast move, he took Elliot's gun out of its holster and grabbed Marcus by the hair and dragged him to his feet. Holding the gun to Marcus' temple, he hissed, “Now then you boys are going to let me and my friends leave and I'll let him live.” He clicked the safety off when he saw the officer that was guarding him reach of his own weapon. “Don't even think about it.”

“Listen Jason, you don't want to go down as a cop killer,” Elliot said, hoping to get a grasp of the situation. “You'd never make six months in the slammer. Just put the weapon down.”

“Jason what are you doing?!” He lawyer said, standing.

“Shut up, Kent,” Venn growled.

Marcus tried to keep his nerves under control as he locked eyes with Greg. Greg sent him a look of reassurance and that everything was going to be alright. Marcus stiffened when he felt Venn's grip on his neck tighten. The muzzle of the gun moved and he flinched when Venn fired the weapon. Marcus was shaking as the large window, which over looked the city, was cracked. Venn shot at it again then kicked it, making it break.

“Detective, bring my friends in here now or,” Marcus gasped when he was lifted off his feet. He gripped Venn's meaty his hand as he was dangled out the window. “I drop him.”

Marcus could feel the afternoon breeze swirl around him. He turned his fearfully eyes on the detective, who held his hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright.” Elliot looked at the officer. “Go get his friends.”

“And don't you dare speak to anyone else!” Venn shouted. The officer looked at Marcus then Elliot, before nodding and leaving. A minute later, the officer returned with May, Lackey, and Alexander, all looking confused until they saw Venn holding Marcus out the window.

“Jason, have you gone mad?! What are you doing?!” May shrieked.

“Shut up Andrea, and take his pistol,” Venn snapped, nodding towards the officer.

“No way, you're over the line,” May said, shaking her head.

Venn was about to comment when a commotion outside the interrogation room caught his attention. The group saw officers with their weapons drawn and pointed towards the room they were in. He glared at the officer. “Ya couldn't keep your mouth shut, could ya?! Now he's gonna pay the price.”

It was as though time went into slow motion. As Marcus felt Venn's fingers loosen their hold on his neck, he mustered the strength to swing his legs forward and wrap around the suspect's waist. He managed to save himself from falling to his death, however, with the sudden extra weight, Venn was off balance and tipping them in the direction of the broken window. Marcus managed to reach out and grab the edge of the broken window as Venn fell out. Marcus cried out when Venn clung to his legs.

“If I'm going to die, so are you!!” Venn screamed. Marcus gritted his teeth as the glass stuck in the window frame dug into his hands. Blood began running down his arms as he twisted his legs in a vain attempt to get Venn to let him go.

Marcus looked up when hands gripped his arms. “I got you, Marcus!” Greg said. Marcus felt relief wash through him. That relief was short lived however when a shot rang through the cool autumn air. Greg's head shot up and his hands released him.

Marcus' eyes widen. “GREG!!”

The weight of Venn and himself was too much to bear.

Air screamed passed his ears as he plummeted five storeys to his death.

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Beep. Beep. Beep.

Marcus felt as though he was floating between numbness and pain. The numbness was spread throughout his limbs and there was a dull stabbing pain in his chest. He tried to speak but it felt as though his mouth were drier than the Sahara Desert. His mind slipped into darkness again and he never noticed the group of people around him, or the hands holding his.

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The second time he woke, he was able to make out the beeping noise again and this time he was a little more coherent to register what it was.

An alarm clock? No.

The oven? No.

Marcus realized it was a heart monitor. The numbness in his limbs had lessened and was beginning to turn into pain. Marcus moaned softly. It felt as though he had been run over by a semi, who backed up and did it again.

“Marcus?” He recognized that voice. It was male and familiar. “Jody, go get his parents.”

Jody…that was familiar too. He felt a hand clutching his own. He weakly gripped the person's hand, and he recognized the person's cologne. “Greg?” He croaked weakly. He cracked his eyes open and saw a blurry outline of his boyfriend sitting next to him. He blinked again and his vision became clearer.

“Marcus, oh Marcus thank God,” Greg whispered. Marcus swore he heard what sounded suspiciously like a choked sob. “I thought you were…were…”

Marcus tried to move his other hand to comfort his distraught lover, but the pain in his shoulder prevented him from doing so. “Shh, I'm here, Greg, I'm here. Can I have some water?”

Greg nodded. “The doctor said you shouldn't drink or eat anything so, um, soon after surgery, so I'll call a nurse.”

Marcus frowned when he got a good look at the Russian's face. “Greg, what happened to your face?”

“The bullet that Venn shot when you two were hanging out the window grazed my face,” Greg explained.

“Marcus?” The brunet's eyes trailed over to the door and he saw his parents standing there. In the window, he saw Robyn, Jody, and Rick standing there. He gave them a tired smile and he received relieved grins back.

“I'll give you guys a moment,” Greg whispered in his ear.

Marcus felt fear grip his heart and he held Greg's hand as tightly as he could. He vaguely heard the heart monitor's beeping increase as he whispered, “No, please don't leave!” His throat was too sore for him to speak much louder.

“Hey, calm down, I won't leave,” Greg said reassuringly. “It's okay.” He rubbed Marcus' arm to sooth him as the nurse came in. “Ma'am, he needs water for his throat.”

She nodded. “Dr. Garten will want to see him.” She left and a minute later came back with a blond-haired man, who was holding a clipboard, and a cup with ice shards.

“Dr. Garten, may we come in?” Mrs. Summers asked.

“I want to look him over to make sure his injuries aren't infected, and then you may,” Dr. Garten said. Marcus kept his gaze on Greg as the doctor moved his bed so he was in an upright position. He undressed his shoulder then put fresh bandages on.

After Greg fed him several small shards, Marcus asked, “What happened?”

“You landed in a tree,” Greg said, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “Venn wasn't so lucky, he fell right through, however he's alive and waiting trial.”

“Oh.” Marcus glanced at the doctor who was re-bandaging the scraps on his legs. “Dr. Garten, how bad is it?”

“When you landed in that tree, one of the branches pierced you where your heart should be, however, you have a rare case where all your organs are backwards,” Dr. Garten said. “Your ankle is broken and you have many scraps and scratches, some that required stitches.”

“When can I get out of here?” Marcus inquired.

“As soon as I deem that this wound is in the clear for any serious infections then I'll have you released.” Dr. Garten wrote a few things on his clipboard. “Alright, you can have 3 visitors at a time.”

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Marcus watched as Greg saw Robyn and Rick out. Greg used his charm on the nurses to stay with Marcus, swearing he'd be good. When he returned, Marcus shifted back and held his blankets opened invitingly. Greg smiled and joined him under the covers. “You won't believe how scared I was when you fell.”

Marcus kissed him gently. “Well, I'm here now and in a week or so I'll be out of here and we can put this all behind us.”

Greg slid his arm around him and held him as tightly as he could with out causing the other man discomfort. “Never leave me.”

“Never.”

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Jodine16: Reviews appreciated.