by Tricia Owens
Jake started to slam him backwards again but this time Calyx rammed a knee up into the other man's crotch. It didn't catch Jake dead-on but it was close enough to make the man release him and back away.
"You stay away from him," Jake warned, holding a hand protectively over his groin. "You never know when word of your whereabouts might make its way onto the street. I can only imagine how excited some of your old friends would be to see you again."
Calyx was tired of this threat. He'd heard it constantly since being arrested two months ago. "I'd like to see you step out there, Cole." His mouth twisted. "You think you're such a tough guy. You're so used to hiding behind a gun and five other guys you wouldn't last two seconds in the neighborhood. Being a cop doesn't mean anything out there. You'd better stick to where you're safest -- in this cozy little doghouse begging for a treat from your master."
"I'm driving you out of here if it's the last thing I do, Starr."
"Good luck."
Jake shook his head in disgust as he left the room. Calyx rubbed at the back of his head. Cole was nothing but a bully. He'd learn soon enough that Calyx wasn't your typical street punk who could be intimidated by a little roughing up.
"Asshole," he muttered. He shut the door but not before a giving lingering look at the door across the hallway. Stay away? Yeah, right. Cole had just given him double the incentive to keep trying.
~~~~~
Wolf Sola finished stowing his clothes and gear and sat carefully on the edge of his bed. JC2 was living in style. If his old teammates in R&R ever learned about JC2's private housing they'd throw a fit, demanding to know why they didn't deserve such treatment.
The answer was easy. JC2 got the job done. Sola had long admired Lieutenant Sundhill and his success with the first Juxtapose City Unit. When Sola had gotten wind that a second unit was being put together he'd pulled strings and called in every favor he had in an attempt to get himself appointed as its leader.
Sola had been with special teams for eight years. After being recruited from the regular force at twenty-two he'd worked with the bomb squad and Recon and Recovery, earning commendations left and right. At thirty he'd thought himself in the perfect position to assume command of the new JC Unit team.
But the team had been given to Black. Sola stared out of the room's single window at the overcast sky. Who the hell was Black anyway? When he'd heard of the appointment he'd asked everyone he knew for any information about the new team leader.
All he'd gotten were shrugs and jealous rumors: Black was some bigwig's son. Black was some government agent undercover. Black wasn't even his name. No one knew. And when he'd tried to slyly question the head of the special teams department -- Captain Dickerson -- he'd received a chilly warning to keep his nose out of things that didn't concern him.
But Sola had a lot invested in JC2. The man he had become was a direct result of the drug trafficking on the streets. He had a vendetta to pursue and JC2 was his means of doing so. So as he'd bided his time with R&R, Sola had done some digging.
Black was an alias but no other identification could be found for JC2's leader. His record was sealed by Dickerson's order. That he was the Captain's prodigy was apparent, but Sola wanted to know how and why Black had come to be such. Where had he worked before assuming JC2? Why was his identity and past such a secret?
And what burned Sola more than anything else was that what did exist of Black's public records claimed that he was only twenty-three. Sola hadn't been able to fully believe it until Black had approached him last night. A kid was leading Juxtapose City's elite force. A fucking kid! Sola would bet his left nut that he'd seen five times as much action as Black had. And yet here he was, a sergeant while Black was a lieutenant.
Sola stood and looked down at the sidewalk. Black and the two other guys -- Bee and Haney -- were talking on the concrete. Sola stared at the top of Black's head and felt his gut churn with the injustice of it all. Well, he'd get his chance. He was finally on the team after nearly a year of waiting. One way or another Sola would prove himself the better leader. And if not he would find another way to remove Black from the team. Black's records weren't sealed for traffic tickets. Somehow, Sola would learn the truth. He was willing to bet his career that it was something that would ruin Black completely.
~~~~~
"Here's my opinion: Sola's a G.I. Joe who's taken one too many hits to the head and probably sleeps with a gun in his underwear. And Starr -- Starr is someone who'd rather be high on drugs in the middle of a dance club but he'll settle with giving you a blowjob."
Bee blinked at Haney. "I can't believe you just said that."
The younger man shrugged innocently. "Why? You know it's true. Sola's too gung-ho and Starr's been staring at Black's ass ever since he got here."
Black rubbed at his eyes. "Bee? Do you have anything more helpful to add?"
Throwing his partner a reproving look, Bee turned to his commanding officer. "My first impressions are that Sola is a rigid, by-the-book guy but that's not necessarily a bad thing. As for Starr--" The big man looked uneasy as he glanced at Black. "I gotta side with Haney on this one. He doesn't seem like he belongs here. He acts like it's all for fun."
Black nodded, looking down the street. He'd come to pretty much the same conclusions. "After the service tomorrow I'm having you guys and Jake do some drills with Sola. I'm going to take Starr to the range and evaluate him. If he's not up to par this may end tomorrow. I won't have the team jeopardized by anyone who can't carry his weight."
Haney shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "About the service tomorrow," he began. "Starr's gonna go nuts, isn't he? I mean, if he's an empath a funeral is gonna be hell for him."
Black hadn't wanted to go into this but he nodded. "I've been authorized to give him controlled amounts of Bliss. It should get him through it."
"Aw, jeez, Black," Haney said, sympathetically. "What're they thinking turning us into drug dealers?"
Black couldn't say what he wanted to say because he knew it would be insubordination. So he tightened his jaw and remained silent. He looked down as his PRU buzzed. Bee and Haney respectfully backed away as Black took the call. The small screen filled with Dickerson's smug face.
"How's it going?" Dickerson asked.
"Starr and Sola are adjusting to their new home," Black replied curtly. "Tomorrow afternoon I will conduct the evaluations."
"They'll be fine," Dickerson said dismissively. "I wouldn't have recommended them to you if I didn't think they would fit on the team."
"Yes, sir."
Dickerson glanced to the side as if checking the privacy of his surroundings. "I want you to drive me tonight, Black. Same time."
Black's knuckles tightened around the unit. He fought the urge to fling the PRU against the side of the Clubhouse. "I think I should remain here, sir, since it's the first night. It might not be a good idea to let Starr and Sola remain in the house by themselves."
"For Christ's sake they're not puppies that're gonna piss on the carpet when you're not around. They'll be fine."
"Yes, sir," Black bit out.
Dickerson's voice dropped. "We're going to the Hop, so wear something appropriate. That red shirt you had on last time was good. Wear that."
Black's eyes lifted to his teammates. He breathed a little easier when he saw they were too far away to hear anything. "Whatever you want, sir."
If the older man heard the forced note to his voice he acted as though he hadn’t. Dickerson nodded and the screen went black.
Black pocketed the unit and walked to the other men. "I've got another assignment with the captain tonight. Keep Starr and Sola with you in the Dugout until you turn in. Make sure everyone remains civil."
Haney bit his lip. "Um, Jake's gonna--"
"I'm counting on you two to keep Jake under control. Don't let him get at Starr." Black paused before adding, "And don't tell him where I've gone. It's none of his business."
Bee frowned disapprovingly, but nodded. "You got
it, Black."
~~~~~
Dinner was strained, to say the least. Haney kept up a constant stream of chatter, for some reason thinking it would loosen everyone up. Black congratulated himself on not telling him to shut up and eat.
"I'm curious about the other JC team," Starr said, interrupting Haney in the middle of his discourse on the best places in the neighborhood to get pizza. "Are they housed near here?"
"They're in the south side," Bee told him as he wound lo mein around his fork. "Captain thought it would be more practical to have a team available on both sides of the city."
"Word at the station is that you're building a better record than Lieutenant Sundhill," Sola commented, watching Black intently.
Sola had been staring at him all throughout dinner and it was giving Black a headache. "Both teams are racking up the best success rates in the department. This isn't a competition."
"Tell that to Sundhill, the prick," Jake muttered into his food.
"He’s pretty popular in the department."
Black met the cool ice of Sola's gaze, hearing the unsaid comparison. "I'm not out to make friends."
Sola dropped his eyes to his food and speared a water chestnut with his fork. "Must be the rivalry. People wouldn't have any other reason to dislike you, right?"
Black chose not to respond. His head was aching from both the uncomfortable tension in the room and the effort it took to block himself from Starr. He could feel the empath's eyes on the side of his face. He pushed away his food and stood up.
"I want you all to get to know each other better while I'm gone. We're going to be placing our lives in each other's hands so we'd better learn to start trusting each other. Tomorrow we'll be attending the service for Max and Lucas, so get your rest."
"Where are you going?" Jake demanded.
"Out."
Jake stared after the other man's back, his hand clenched around his fork. "He's going out with Dickerson, isn't he?" he demanded of Haney.
The younger man shrugged helplessly.
"I wish I knew what the hell they did..."
"It's the captain's business," Bee told him firmly. "If Black needed you to know he'd tell you."
Starr leaned back in his chair. "Captain Dick-a-lick requires our leader's services often, I take it?"
Jake glared at him. "It's nothing like what you provide the captain."
Starr just smirked, his expression skeptical.
"Black's pretty secretive, huh?" Sola said around a mouthful of barbecue pork. "Does anyone even know his first name?"
"Who cares?" Jake muttered, grabbing his and Black's abandoned plates. "He can keep his damned secrets."
On his way past the table to the kitchen he 'accidentally' bumped Starr's shoulder, making the empath spill the juice he had been drinking down the front of his shirt. God, I am such a child, Jake thought to himself as he listened to the blond man curse. But he smiled just the same.
~~~~~
Black left his electro-bike at the station and signed out an unmarked cruiser. He took off his leather jacket and laid it across the passenger seat as he began the drive to Dickerson's house. He was wearing black silk pants and a red satin shirt opened at the throat. He'd rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. A gold stud glinted in his ear but he wore no other jewelry. The familiar comfort of his gun was absent.
As usual, it wasn't Dickerson's wife who answered the door it was the captain himself. Dressed simply in a black suit and shirt, Dickerson nodded approvingly when he saw Black. "Let's go."
The Hop was a discreet club on the outer fringes of the Blue Square, the heart of Juxtapose City's night scene. The club itself was in a dark building on an unlit street. A single bulb burning over a metal door served as its entrance. Black parked the craft up the corner from the building and shut off the engine, waiting for instructions.
"Turn around," Dickerson said from the back seat.
Black shifted in his seat until he faced the older man. He remained still as a large hand lightly touched his hair.
"I’m glad you went with this," Dickerson said. Black knew he wasn't referring to his hair. "You look like your mother."
"That's the point."
Dickerson smirked. "It must be strange to see yourself like this..." He trailed off, seeming to forget that his fingers still rested in Black's hair. The police captain's eyes cleared and he dropped his hand to finger the collar of Black's shirt. "I like this. It looks good."
"What do you want this time?" Black asked, trying to keep his voice even.
Dickerson smiled but it wasn't a pleasant smile. "I think I miss your little empath. Let's make it interesting."
Black's fingernails dug into the palms of his hands. "Whatever you want."
Dickerson nodded. Black got out of the car. The air was cool against his sweating skin as he walked toward the bulb-lit doorway.
~~~~~
Calyx sat up in bed. This wasn't working. Sola must be dreaming about driving a tank over little old ladies because Starr was picking up some disturbing rage/pleasure/remorse sensations in rising and fading waves from the man. What was wrong with that guy? If this was how it was going to be Calyx was going to demand a little Bliss nightcap before going to sleep from now on.
Scratching at his ribs, Calyx dug around the floor beside the bed and found his cigarettes. The nicotine rush soothed his nerves and he sat back against the pillows and tried to relax. He missed Black. He went ahead and laughed aloud at himself but it was true. Darkness was the only interesting person around here. The rest were boring stiffs.
He thought back to the conversation at dinner. He doubted Black was doing anything like what he'd been forced to do with Captain Dickhead but he was curious all the same. Secret assignments? What a man of mystery you are, Darkness.
As if on cue, he heard the electric whine of Black’s bike pulling into the garage. Calyx glanced at the clock. Almost 3:00 AM. What could last until such a late hour? The garage swallowed the whirr of the bike and the next sound Calyx heard was the downstairs door opening and closing. He listened to the unsteady tread of heavy footsteps up the stairs and recognized it instantly. Black was drunk.
"What happened to your vaunted control?" Calyx murmured into the darkness of his room. A frown dragged his lips down. Not only was Black drunk he wasn't blocking himself.
And Calyx could feel him.
The cigarette fell from between Calyx's fingers. It was only the smell of burning fabric that jolted him into awareness to pat it out.
Calyx shoved his fist between his teeth as emotions suddenly swamped him. Disgust/anger/helplessness/betrayal/pain/pain/pain...
Choking on a cry, Calyx hurtled out of bed and dragged on the clothes Jake had stained at dinner. The moment he heard Black's bedroom door shut he bolted out into the hallway and threw himself down the stairs. He let himself out the front door and broke into a run, heading away from the lights and running instead towards the darkest part of the neighborhood. He knew he could get himself killed by wandering the streets by himself. If anyone recognized him as the snitch he'd become his life wouldn't be worth the price of his blood.
But desperation overrode caution and Calyx needed a hit. In the blackest alley he could find his instincts steered him to a bony man in a tattered trench coat. He didn't bother bargaining; he paid too much and he didn't regret it.
Amazingly, he wandered his way back to the Clubhouse. He dropped down onto the stoop and fell back against the front door. Everything was just fine now. Everything, in fact, was beautiful...
CHAPTER THREE
Bee knew the rule: don't get involved with your teammates because one day you may have to watch them die. Losing a teammate's life was allowed to hurt, but it couldn't compromise your decisions. Bee knew this, he understood the reasoning. But it didn't change his feelings for Haney.
That was fine; Bee was good at separating his emotions from the job. He was a professional. He'd been in the department for years. He knew the drill. It was only
now, in the realm of dreams when he had no control, that he regretted his relationship with his teammate. It was the one place where he was vulnerable. And this nightmare was a perfect example why.
In the dream, he and Haney were in the Dugout, sitting on the couch watching TV. The door to the training room opened down the hall. Bee wouldn't have given it a second thought but with the opening and closing of the door came a squishy sound, like socks pressing down in wet sneakers. It was summer; no reason for rain. So Bee turned.
Starr didn't look the way he had when they'd all met him yesterday. He looked too thin, his bones jutting from his hips through the stained leather pants he wore. His cheekbones were razor sharp, stretched taut over prominent bone. His feline green eyes were too bright -- fever bright -- but the skin around them was sunken and shadowed. Bee recognized the look. Drugged to the gills. It only somewhat explained the bloody knife in his hand.
It was a big butcher knife, straight out of a horror flick. And just as in those teen movies the empath was slashing madly with it, not aiming, just filling the air with flashes of silver. Bee leaped from the couch, grabbing at Haney's arm to yank him away from the descending knife. But the blade sank deep into Haney's shoulder. Bee watched horrified as his lover's face twisted into an expression first of surprise then pain as Starr retracted the blade and slammed it home again.
Bee howled in anguish, his feet pinned to the carpet by invisible hands. He tried to reach for Haney, tried to grab the empath's knife with his bare hand -- but Bee could do nothing. All he could do was watch helplessly as his friend's -- his lover's -- blood saturated the fabric of the couch.