Fearless Leader (Juxtapose City)

by Tricia Owens

  Calyx stared back feigning boredom as he leaned as casually as he could against the scarred wall of the elevator. "Any messages you'd like me to pass along?" His lips twisted cynically. "Anything beyond the obvious, that is."

  Dickerson smiled thinly. He hadn't gloated over his crime. He’d treated what he'd done like a task that needed to be completed as efficiently as possible. Calyx was grateful for that one unintentional kindness. He might have launched himself screaming at Dickerson otherwise. But a smug superiority was now in the captain's eyes as he looked at the empath.

  "You think I'm a sadist without reason, Agent Starr."

  Calyx snorted. "I know you are."

  "Let me enlighten you. Everything that has occurred this afternoon is for your benefit as well as mine. I don't do anything capriciously. There is meaning behind your pain. I'm confident that you'll thank me for this later."

  Calyx tried to smile. He really did. What he ended up with made Dickerson lean back, frowning. "Spare me your fucking favors, sweetheart. I don't need them. You made a mistake today. I've got a bad habit of keeping my grudges. I'm hanging on to this one for a long, long time."

  Calyx found some pleasure in the unease that painted Dickerson's face, even if it was brief.

  But fleeting it was because in the next moment Dickerson's large body was crowding him against the wall and it took everything within Calyx not to scream at the other man to back away. Calyx ended up shivering against the wall, his eyes downcast in such an obvious show of submission that he wanted to shoot himself for being a coward.

  "Never forget who you are," Dickerson warned in a silken voice. He picked up a strand of pale hair and idly stroked it. Calyx started counting backwards from a hundred to stop himself from freaking out. "You're trash from the streets and you'll never be anything more than that. No one cares what happens to you and no one will care if you wind up dead one day, victim of an unfortunate accident. Feel lucky that I haven't killed you already. You're nothing but a dirty empath. A biological freak."

  Calyx had heard those taunts and worse his entire life. No one liked a psypath. They were this century's most persecuted segment of society. If you managed to survive the abuse the hate and fear made you strong, just like Calyx was strong. It also made you reluctant to feeling anything else but anger.

  "One of these days," Calyx said, raising his eyes to meet the captain's, "we're going to take over this city. And when we do you'd better hope that I'm not the one who finds you, sweetheart. Sadistic won't be a strong enough word to describe how I'll treat you. They'll have to invent a new one just for me."

  It was a card he rarely played. Fear of an uprising by the psypaths was the most irrational, hysterical fear the 'normals' possessed. Calyx never encouraged such fear knowing that it only hurt the psypaths' cause in the long run. But he had no qualms about using it now and it felt absolutely wonderful to see Dickerson lean away in mild alarm.

  "Don't threaten me, you punk." The larger man backed off, pausing at the door of the elevator. "I've got connections in places you'd never dream. Some are even in your own backyard." Scowling angrily, the captain punched the button for the bottom floor of the garage. He stepped outside to let the doors close. "Go crawl to Lt. Black. Let him lick your wounds. Knowing what a slut you are I'm sure you'll have him licking something else of yours soon enough."

  "At least his touch won't make my skin crawl," Calyx muttered. He watched the doors slide shut across the other man's hated face.

  Once out of Dickerson's presence, Calyx pressed his fists to his eyes. Being an empath meant telling yourself that you had certain advantages. It meant that you never considered yourself to be as vulnerable as a normal person. You told yourself that you were exceptional. It was the only way to keep from killing yourself. But Calyx didn't feel those things as the elevator lurched and began its descent. He felt like a little kid easily provoked and easily scarred by cruel jibes. Calyx had survived twenty-six years on the streets by letting things slide off of him. But this -- this clung to him like sewage mud.

  He dropped his hands and watched the lights above the door measure his drop into the bowels of the hotel. His eyes darted to the panel, lingering on the 'L' that marked the lobby floor.

  He could escape from all this bullshit. He could get off on the lobby floor and flee into the city and no one would stop him. But where would he go? He turned his wrist over and rubbed the veins of blue blood that pumped beneath his skin. When he'd been arrested Dickerson had ordered that a blood marker called SynTrak be inserted into his cardiovascular system. The result was that he was now little better than a dog on Captain Dickerson's leash.

  Synthetic blood, man-made to be compatible with every blood type, had been one of the key components to containing and eventually ending the spread of HIV in the twenty-first century. In this decade it had found a new usage as law enforcement's helper, SynTrak. This variation carried microscopic particles which registered much like metal on an X-ray when exposed to small doses of radiation. If Calyx tried to flee, the JCPD would find him if he passed hidden police scanners placed throughout the city. Calyx wondered how the public would feel if they learned that every day they were unwittingly dosed with radiation for the sake of keeping their criminals close at hand.

  Calyx's fingers curled, his nails dragging red tracks across his skin. It was like being betrayed by your own body. Like being infected with some surreal police virus. And it was an experimental one at that. Who knew what long-term effects it could have on his body? He could end up having children with two heads. Calyx laughed, lowering his hands. Forget about the future, the procedure had screwed him already. It left him trapped within the city. Trapped, unless he received a full body transfusion or bled himself dry.

  The thought didn't sound as bad as it once had.

  Calyx watched the lights again. The service elevator was slow. It had only just reached the second floor. Two more before the lobby, then another three for the bottom level of the garage.

  All of this unexplainable drama was for Black's benefit. Calyx hadn't thought too much on that fact but it struck him now how interested Dickerson was in anything concerning Black. Did the older man distrust Black? Or was it something much simpler like an obsession? Maybe the captain had a hard-on for Black.

  Whatever it was, Calyx wished like hell that it didn't exist. Being the one caught in the middle was a serious pain in the ass. Literally. If he'd known that the price of the Silent City included this... well, let's just say he would have negotiated the terms a little better.

  The elevator chimed softly and the doors slid open. Calyx pushed away from the wall of the elevator, wincing at a twinge in his lower body. The bottom floor of the garage was mostly empty. A linen truck was parked to his left and two unoccupied security vehicles were sitting against the far wall directly in front of him. He turned to his right and saw the ramp that rose up to let out onto the street level. He could just make out the sky through the opening.

  The sight made him homesick. He wanted to go home, whichever street he decided to consider as such tonight. The Clubhouse wasn't home even though it was perhaps the safest place he had ever stayed. Safe, but not comfortable. His teammates hated him. Black couldn't stand him. Calyx had never remained so long where he knew he wasn't wanted.

  But this wasn't about the here and now. This was about the future. About the Silent City and revenge. For those things Calyx would endure what he must. He had to.

  A sleek electric song filled the garage. Calyx watched Black ride down the ramp and despite what he tried to tell himself, despite the face he put on, Calyx was glad to see him. Black might not like him but at least Black wouldn't hurt him. It was a lot to be grateful for.

  Calyx thought about adjusting his clothing and pulling his hair forward to better hide his face. Then he figured, why bother? If he'd been made to suffer for this he would see that it was worth it.

  Black stopped the electro-bike several feet from him and held out the extra helmet. W
hen Calyx didn't make a move to take it Black hesitated before shutting off the bike. He hung the extra helmet on the handlebar and pulled off his own.

  "You're a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart."

  Calyx could see... something on Black's face. Those big brown eyes swept over him with the quick, measuring precision of a police officer. They lingered on Calyx's face before moving down his body, taking in the way the empath awkwardly held himself, the condition of his clothing. With an eye like that there was no way that Black could misinterpret what had happened to him. Calyx sighed with relief.

  "Let's go," Black said quietly.

  Calyx stared.

  Black wasn't looking at him anymore, preoccupied with the gauges of his bike. "Get on, Starr."

  Shocked, Calyx combed his senses, searching for a hint of the other man's sympathy or anger over what had been done to him. He found nothing. Black's shields were as tight as ever and his face... His face was as revealing as the stone floor.

  "You fucking know," Calyx whispered before he could stop himself. When Black stiffened Calyx pressed on, his voice louder. "You know what he did and you're not going to say anything?"

  "Get on the bike."

  Calyx laughed, the sound bitter and discordant. "Your precious Captain Dickface just shoved his weapon of choice up my ass and you don't even--"

  Black's head whipped around, his eyes blazing with something unreadable. "Shut up and get on the damned bike, Starr, or I swear I'll leave you down here. I told you not to mess with him but you didn't listen, did you?"

  Calyx shook his head, unable to believe Black's insensitivity. He hadn't been expecting flowers but a single word of condolence would have been nice. Calyx's mind spun. Dickerson had done this to him for a reason. And the reason was obvious: it was it to get a reaction out of Black, to win some sympathy from the reserved man so that Black would care for Calyx and eventually come to like him.

  But if that was the plan it had backfired completely.

  Suddenly, Calyx was furious. He'd just been fucking raped and judging by Black's blank face it had all been for nothing. Black didn't give a shit what had happened to him.

  Black. Didn't. Care.

  "Goddamn you!" Calyx snarled. "For once in your goddamn life you're going to feel something, sweetheart." He launched himself at Black, catching a glimpse of widened brown eyes before he was upon the other man. Fighting him. Tearing him up off the bike. Calyx shoved his face against the side of Black's head, bringing his lips to the other man's ear. "After what I've just been through you're going to feel every goddamn thing that I had to," he hissed. "Maybe then you'll care!"

  Black hadn't been prepared for an assault by his teammate and the delay of his reaction was all the advantage the taller, rage-fueled empath needed. Calyx wrapped his longer arms around Black to subdue him. Calyx didn't feel the elbow to the sternum; he didn't feel the grazing punch to his ribs. He hurt so badly already -- inside and out -- that nothing new could faze him.

  Growling like an animal, he wrestled with Black until he had twisted the other man around. He managed to snake an arm around the lieutenant's neck. He started to choke Black, intending to scare him, wanting Black to feel a fraction of the helplessness that he had felt at Dickerson's hand. But Black wasn't helpless. Black promptly stomped on Calyx's instep.

  Calyx cried out in pain and fell back, his arm loosening. Black grabbed the empath's wrist intending to throw the taller man over his shoulder but Calyx recognized the move and leaped forward, throwing his weight upon Black's back. Black lost his balance, stumbling beneath him. It gave Calyx the time to reestablish his hold around Black's neck. Calyx slammed a punch to Black's side. Black's breath left him in a pained gasp.

  There was a roaring in Calyx's ears that drowned out every thought, every doubt about what he was doing. He hadn't been able to control what Dickerson had done to him. He hadn't been able to stop the captain from murdering Razzy. That frustration manifested itself now in violence. With a swipe of one heel he tripped up Black, sending them both crashing across Black's electro-bike.

  Black grunted as the seat rammed into his stomach. He started to push up from the bike only to let out a grunt of pain as he encountered the hot tubes of the exhaust. He fell over the bike seat again. Their position over the bike forced Black's ass up into Calyx's crotch and a terrible thought struck the empath. An evil thought.

  I'll give you something to feel. I'll give you a reason to sympathize, you cold bastard.

  Black didn't recognize the intent of Calyx's actions when the empath reached beneath their struggling bodies and ripped open Black's jeans. But the moment Calyx lifted up slightly while simultaneously yanking the denim down Black exploded into action, bucking and thrashing almost manically beneath Calyx.

  Berserk fear struck the empath. It was so viciously bright that it overcame Calyx's senses and he became convinced that it was his fear. Wild panic surged through him. Fear/dread/disgust/helplessness... God, he was so afraid. Not again! I won't be forced again!

  The spitting, hissing body beneath him brought his awareness back into line. It gave his fear a focus. He needed to subdue. He needed to show Black who was the boss here because there was no way Calyx was going to be the one who was afraid again. Never again.

  He squeezed his arm tightly across Black's throat, hearing the other man choke as his windpipe was nearly crushed. When Black's struggles became less effective and more reflexive, Calyx yanked Black's jeans the rest of the way down his hips. The smooth bare skin against his fingers made Calyx angry. He swallowed a sob, reminded of how he had been this way for Dickerson, vulnerable and open.

  "You asshole," Calyx grated out, fumbling with the zipper on his own pants. "You think it's so fun to fuck with the empath? You think it doesn't hurt?!" With his free hand he pulled up on Black's hip, lifting him to better receive the punishment Calyx intended. "You old, fucking geezer. Raping me is the only way an old cow like you can get any action, isn't it? Isn't it?"

  Calyx heard himself snarling as he thrust forward. His semi-flaccid sex flopped uselessly against the cleft of Black's ass. Angrily he grabbed himself and tried to shove the soft tip inside. What the hell? He'd never had a problem getting it up before. He'd never had this problem!

  You've also never forced anyone before.

  Calyx looked down at himself. He really looked. What he saw made him gag.

  I'm as bad as Dickerson.

  "Oh, my god," Calyx whispered. Now that the roaring in his ears had subsided he could hear Black panting from the other side of the bike.

  Hyperventilating.

  It was a loss of self-control that Calyx had never seen or heard from his leader before. It scared him in the same way that seeing a parent figure show an unexpected weakness was scary. It wasn't supposed to happen. Black was supposed to be strong. Black wasn't supposed to break.

  Calyx wasn't supposed to be the one to break him.

  Calyx shoved himself backwards. Staggering away from the bike to build distance, he could see how awful the situation truly was. It could have been funny seeing Black bare-assed and hanging over the seat of the bike. But it wasn't.

  It was horrible.

  Calyx wrapped his arms around himself, listening to Black wheeze. He remembered that Black had made a cry of pain earlier. Black had probably burnt himself on the motorcycle's hot pipes while Calyx was forcing him down over it.

  This was the fuck-up of all fuck-ups. Captain Dickerson’s plan had just been shot to hell. But Calyx couldn't find it in himself to be pleased. He just felt sick.

  Clutching his pants to his hips with one hand, Calyx extended a shaky hand. "Darkness," he began, "you've got to listen to me--"

  At the sound Black jerked as if only now realizing that he was no longer held down. He tried to stand up but ended up tripping on the jeans wrapped around his knees. He fell onto his hip on the cold concrete, his hair falling messily over his face. Calyx took another step forward. He wanted to see Black's face.


  The sound of his footstep galvanized Black into action. He scooted back frantically across the concrete, placing his back to the bike, one arm coming up in defense. His body language reminded Calyx of kids on the street. Kids who'd suffered the worst. Calyx couldn't take another step forward if he'd wanted to.

  "Oh, sweetheart," he whispered. "What have I done?"

  Black didn't answer him. He didn't look up. He jammed a hand into the scrunched up pocket of his jeans, digging for something. Calyx braced himself, expecting Black to pull out a gun or a bottle of mace and give Calyx exactly what he deserved. Instead Black shakily extracted a tiny piece of paper and promptly slapped it against the side of his neck.

  A gun would have been kinder. Black had just put on a Bliss tab.

  ~~~~~

  Dickerson waited beside his craft at the loading dock of the hotel. He watched Lieutenant Sundhill finish giving orders to Flaherty and Henderson. Dickerson smiled approvingly as the men obeyed their leader without question, quickly hustling the body of Razzy and the bloodied evidence of his torture into JC1's utility craft.

  Dickerson wore a pleased smile on his face as the golden-haired lieutenant joined him by his vehicle.

  "Everything set, lieutenant?"

  Sundhill nodded but he looked distracted. His eyes continually flicked to the craft that held Razzy's body. "He's the one we picked up the other night, isn't he?"

  "He was."

  Sundhill nodded again. "This have anything to do with JC2? Lieutenant Black mentioned to me that he'd tried to pick this joker up."

  Dickerson studied his fingernails. "That doesn't concern you, lieutenant. You've done what I've asked you to. You and your men may finish disposing of the trash."

  Sundhill frowned, about to say something, when Dickerson's PRU buzzed. He held up a hand to the lieutenant as he checked the message. What the captain read made his pulse jump.

  "Bad news, sir?"

  Dickerson raised his eyes to his top lieutenant. "It better not be."