by Oak Anderson
Just as it had always been. The larger of the two men had lived a precarious life for as long as he could remember, and the edge was all he knew. A blade, a concrete wall, a tripwire in Kandahar. It was somehow all the same. He felt his body relax, and he could see in the smaller man’s eyes that he’d felt it, too.
“I said say it,” the man with the knife repeated, and suddenly the larger man wanted desperately to live, a desire he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
“I want to live,” he croaked, and for a moment the man with the knife looked at him oddly, as if he were a particularly puzzling specimen he had pinned beneath his microscope, which was really not that far from the truth, in a way.
Then the smaller man laughed, and it was the laugh that landed the larger man in the hospital, and it was the laugh that probably saved his life.
It was an evil-sounding laugh, a contagious cackle that reminded the big man of everyone who had ever mocked him, from his lumpy, oversized childhood to basic training to his prison days, and it turned his emotions on a dime. He was right back to the semi-homeless derelict who’d ripped the plastic bag filled with chips and candy from the hands of a nine year-old boy, who was now cowering a few feet away and long forgotten by both men.
He was right back to being someone with nothing to lose.
The smaller man was taken completely by surprise when the larger man suddenly pushed off the wall, knocking the knife from his hand and causing him to fall backwards into a row of garbage bags piled next to an overflowing dumpster, and like the laugh that saved the big man’s life, the garbage saved his own. He hit that pile of trash at the perfect angle to enable a quick draw of his duty weapon, and he pulled it out and fired just as the big man jumped.
***
“Jesus Christ, Thane.”
Thane Parks, the man who’d seen the derelict rip off the kid at knifepoint after leaving the liquor store, shrugged his shoulders and smiled tiredly at his boss, the chief of detectives. Myers always showed up whenever one of his men discharged his weapon, even if it was inconsequential, which this was decidedly not.
Behind them, paramedics were loading the big man into the back of an ambulance.
“And where you’re headed, holy shit.”
Thane laughed, a slightly less evil-sounding version than what had set off the derelict, and his boss reluctantly joined in. “I know, I know.” Thane looked past Myers where a female officer with a pretty decent rack was talking to the kid with the candy. He was divorced, his ex-wife was a bitch, and he definitely wouldn’t mind tapping that ass before the ceremony.
But he also needed to talk with that kid. Thane had told the boy to go home before he dragged the big man into the alley, but somehow he’d either been too scared or too curious and apparently had seen and heard a little too much for the detective’s taste.
Thane noticed the female officer didn’t have her notebook out, which was good, but she’d be handing the kid off to social services soon, or maybe his parents if they were around, and that couldn’t happen without a few words in private.
“Speaking of which, Lieutenant…” Thane said, and Myers nodded.
“Yeah, yeah, get the hell out of here,” he said. “I’ll see you there.”
“Thanks,” Thane said, and walked towards the kid as Myers went to talk to another officer who was taking notes by flashlight next to the pile of trash.
As he approached, the boy’s eyes grew wide and the officer turned to see Thane. She stood up and for a moment Thane thought she was going to salute him or something.
Rookie, he thought. Love to bang the newbies.
Thane looked her up and down. She looked even better up close.
Wedding ring. Fuck. On second thought, even better. No commitments.
“Detective Parks?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Thane said, his eyes rising to hers and then back down to her tightly packed tits. “Officer Hellstrom.”
She flushed. It was clear she had thought he was staring at her chest and he’d sufficiently covered by pretending to search for her nametag.
“Yes, hi.”
Thane smiled. “Hi.”
There was a brief moment of silence as Thane just waited for her to speak. He liked the fact that she was slightly uncomfortable and off guard.
Thane Parks enjoyed watching people flounder.
Finally he put her out of her misery, but filed away her reaction for another time. He liked watching her flounder all right, but he’d really like to feel her wriggle.
“You mind if I have a word?” he asked, and nodded towards the boy, who was still staring up at him, eyes wide.
“Oh, sure,” she said, stepping to the side. “Do you sign?”
For a moment, Thane thought she was asking for his star sign like they were in some 80’s singles bar, and then he realized that she meant the kid was deaf.
Now that is fucking beautiful. The only thing better would be if-
“He can’t speak, either,” the officer said.
Thane was about to upbraid her about assumptions since the kid might be in shock, but gently, so as not to ruin his chance for a future piece of ass, when he noticed that the kid was holding one of those cards that deaf mutes hand out for donations. He’d caught one or two scammers with those cards before, but this kid looked a little too young for that.
Looks like my lucky day.
He reached down to touch the kid’s shoulder, but the boy cowered behind the female officer, wrapping his arms around her waist.
Kid may be dumb, but he’s no dummy.
Thane smiled as warmly as he could at the kid, and ran his eyes back up Officer Goodbody’s good body. “Poor little guy’s seen a lot, tonight,” he said, and received a smile from Hellstrom. “I guess he’s in good hands.”
“Waiting for social services,” she said.
Thane looked at his watch, which wasn’t working, more as a segue to leaving than actually checking the time. He never wore a working watch, and if by some miracle one of his watches actually started working, he’d either take out the battery or throw it out. “Well, I really gotta take off.”
“I heard,” she said. “Congratulations.”
He was surprised. “Oh, yeah? Thanks. Thanks a lot.”
Thane started to turn away and decided to go for it. No better time than the present, thought the man who refused to wear a working timepiece.
“When does your shift end, Hellstrom?” he asked. “I wouldn’t mind taking a date to the dinner.”
She blushed again, which pleased Thane greatly, but then he saw her arm moving and knew she was about to hold up her ring finger as a way to refuse his invitation, and decided to beat her to the punch.
“Oh, Jesus, you’re married,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t mean anything by it, you know. I’m divorced, it’s kind of a thing – ”
“No, that’s okay,” she said, a little too quickly, and Thane knew she was a possible future fuck. He was a damn good detective, a student of human nature, and cops were notoriously an unhappy and therefore, unfaithful, bunch of misfits. He gave himself a forty percent chance of getting into what he imagined were some tight little panties if he worked it right, especially if her husband was a civilian. Forty-five if he was a cop.
“My husband’s on the desk at Hill Street,” she said, “it would have been fun to tell him about it, but I’m on till one.”
Thane grinned a little too wolfishly, but he was feeling pretty good. Forty-five, fifty, he thought. “No problem,” he said. “Next time.”
She blushed again. Make a terrible poker player, but a real nice poke.
“Sure,” she said.
Thane turned and walked towards his car, which was still parked in front of the liquor store. He knew better than to look back. Let her watch me and wonder. Marvel at the glorious majesty of my detective status!
He laughed. Only a beat cop would be impressed with his status, actually. Thane was a damn good detective but a lousy politic
ian, and his rise within the department had been stifled more than once by his stubborn refusal to kiss the right ass at the proper time.
He was also a good father, but his ex-wife and his department had seen to it that his advancement within those realms would never be what he wanted them to be. The job he could have taken in stride, but the way his ex used his kid against him had turned him into a bitter man.
A bitter man with a gun.
Thane suffered from bouts of depression as a result, although he would not have understood it as such. He drank too much and gambled too much to cope with the fact that his ex did everything in her power to deny him access to his child, which she in turn used against him to further limit his visitations. She had an asshole dyke of an attorney who hated cops, at least that was what he chose to believe, and he was often forced to petition the court for privileges he imagined a typical divorced father would routinely be granted without such action.
So he drank even more and spent time with loose women and tight slot machines, which only made things worse.
But he’d never missed a support payment and he never would, not as long as he drew breath. One day he’d be vindicated and his son would know what an evil bitch their mother was and how much he’d sacrificed for him.
One day.
But not today.
He drove straight to the hotel, his mind replaying the events of the evening. He’d been on his way home after a long day, eager for a hot shower and a nap before the big show, and he’d stopped for a pint he figured to knock back before the party to take the edge off what he knew was coming. All those pricks he was going to see.
When he saw the kid walk out of the store with that bag of candy, he was reminded of his own son, who was about that age. Christ, he was missing so many moments of his life because of that cunt!
The big guy had come out of nowhere and just snatched the bag, the glint of his knife flashing beneath the streetlight on the corner.
Thane was so shocked he almost let the guy get away, but it was that flash of steel that woke him up. The guy was huge, probably 6’5” and 260, and even though he didn’t threaten the kid with the knife, the thought that he had it in his hand when he grabbed the bag, filled Thane with blind rage.
He jumped out of his car, told the kid to get lost, and set out to beat the man to death. He wanted to ruin his fists on the son-of-a-bitch.
Only it didn’t happen quite the way he expected. Thane was smaller, but he was still a pretty big guy, a former boxer as a teen, but this asshole had skills. Some kind of martial arts, and Thane got lucky with the knife, turning it on its owner.
Some of the hate had drained out of him, by that time, but he was still on the edge of slicing the guy’s throat, and told him so.
Except for the kid. The kid was watching.
Thane turned it over in his mind all the way to the hotel, unsure of whether he would have actually killed the guy. He was wearing dog tags and had tattoos that indicated he’d served in the military, so maybe he was fucked up with PTSD or something. Thane wasn’t concerned with all that, though. In an odd way, he understood that he was filled with rage and that he had developed a dangerous habit of taking it out on those he arrested, but he didn’t care.
God help him, he didn’t care.
As far as he was concerned, there were too goddamn many scumbags in the world, and if he could help get rid of a few of them, well, what the hell was wrong with that?
When he rose from his seat at the dinner to receive his award for “innovative community policing”, an award that would never, ever lead to the position within the department he deserved, he looked out into the faces of the brass that had continually passed him over for promotions over the years, and thought of what a service it would be to take a few of them out, as well.
As he sat down to what he considered restrained applause, he thought of Officer Hellstrom and wondered how he could maneuver himself between her legs at his earliest convenience.
Innovative community policing always made him horny.
At that very moment, Officer Hellstrom was thinking of him, too.
Just as he had assumed at the scene, she had indeed watched him walk away, all the way back to his car. Then she’d turned back to the boy, indicating to him that he could continue telling her his story in ASL, otherwise known as American Sign Language.
After that, Detective Thane Parks was very much on her mind.
3 MONTHS AFTER TOWY WEBSITE
Reddit, if you had a
daughter who was gang
raped, would you kill the
pricks? (self.AskReddit)
submitted 3 minutes ago by kola24y
134 comments
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[–]Z0omboy 1 minute ago
Death. Nothing else need be said. Your talking Turner 3, right? Didnt scroll.
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[–]heruskael 1 minute ago
Holy shit. TOWY got them.
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[–]bitatch 1 minute ago
two girls even threatening her. those people are shit, i could not even believe anyone would even think to harass their rape victm, much less for a fucking year. got what they deserved. Towy is fukn awesome
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[–]rambler 1 minute ago
murder is impossible for rapists. not murder i m4an. Lol fuck cant type. murder always justified for rape.
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[–]Wawesome 1 minute ago
I have a daughter. I would be on trial for wwhen I found out.
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[–]Llaster 1 minute ago
justifiable homo-side.
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[–]HadoBlade 1 minute ago
turner 3. The hockey players that raped that chick. Fuck em. Towy set ‘em up and knocked ‘em down.
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[–]Not4ENT 2 minutes ago
Miserable fucks. She had to quit school. Went psycho. Offed herself. dad found her in a tub fulla blood. Jesus fucking Christ. Not gonna find any votes for those a-holes. TOWY RAWKS!! Take one with you. Hell, take two or three, like the Turner 3!
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[–]Byayah 2 minutes ago
Terminator style. Wonder who offed them? I heard they couldn’t prosecutr cause she never told anyone at the time.
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[–]suriisdumb 2 minutes ago
Nuke the whole high school. only way to be sure.
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[–]mixologist2145[S] 2 minutes ago
reminds me of stubnville.
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[–]bewellll 2 minutes ago
somebody hacked their shit n posted it on that towy cite.
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[–]Digitaldoctor 3 minutes ago
They should be doing minimum 1000 years gettn raped themselves.
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Chapter Eight
Charlie refused to communicate with Sarah for several months after the death of his mother, even though they still frequented the same message boards. He knew she was stalking him online, though, and took a perverse pleasure in ignoring her presence in threads he started with increasing frequency, musing about things to people who were not at all the type of people with whom he would normally discuss such things.
One of the poor depressed souls Charlie began to communicate with more often was clairebear, who was extremely depressed about the death of her sister. Charlie had introducedclairebear and Sarah online a few months before, which was one of the reasons Charlie took a renewed interest in her.
clairebear wouldn’t give many details abou
t her depression except that her sister had been murdered and she had been considering suicide ever since. Sarah had taken a hard line position with her on the message boards, annoying others who were much less direct and more openly compassionate, but that had always been Sarah’s style. She definitely leaned towards tough love as opposed to a sympathetic ear.
Charlierefused to tellclairebear exactly what had happened between himself and Sarah that led to their break, but perhaps because he had always been the “good cop” in his and Sarah’s unofficial online intervention, it was Charlie to whom the depressed girl gravitated.
clairebear interacted less and less with Sarah and sought out Charlie more and more, in private, direct communications outside the message boards she frequented before. Charlie and the girl grew closer emotionally, but he thought there was something inside her that was dead and irretrievably broken.
Charlie had no doubt that somedayclairebear would simply disappear, failing to respond to messages or frequent the boards, and then he would know that she had finally gathered the courage to end her life.
Since he’d found his mother hanging from a beam in the master bedroom, Charlie’s views on the bravery of suicides had changed drastically. There was a time after his father died when Charlie had contemplated harming himself. The feeling grew strongest when he felt he was losing his mother to his stepfather, which was why he was searching out other depressed people in the first place.
He wasn’t quite aware of it at that time, but he eventually understood he was looking for validation. Permission to take his own life.
But he never found it.
Even to those sympathetic to the darker forces of human nature and privy to the pain so many suffered, suicide was still considered a cowardly act.
It wasn’t described in such stark terms by most of the people with whom he interacted, of course, but there was always an undercurrent that it was “the easy way out,” an opinion Charlie himself shared.
Until the death of his mother.
To think of his mother as weak was something that often crossed Charlie’s mind when she was alive; to be sure, it was the cause of much of the conflict that persisted between them after she remarried. Charlie was a smart kid, but he was still a kid, and he had the typical teenage mentality that he knew more than the adults who raised him.