[fic] Man-Eater 15/? - Petshop of Horrors
Nov. 29th, 2008 03:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yellowhordeDisclaimer: I don't own Petshop of Horrors and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write.
Pairings: Leon x D
Category: Supernatural/Drama
Rating: R
Warning: Shonen Ai/Yaoi. Language. Violence. Torture.
Title: Man-Eater
Author: yellowhorde
Notes: Sequel to 'Denial', which is set before Volume 9's fourth chapter, Dynasty
Previous Chapters:
01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14
Half-heartedly, D pushed the vegetarian fried rice on his plate around with his chopsticks, making no real effort to eat. Though the food at Din Tai Fung really was remarkable, he hadn’t been able to swallow more than a few bites. Jin Li, on the other hand, was having no such difficulties - he had already cleared his steamer of its load of steamed shrimp and pork dumplings with admirable gusto and was even now popping the last one into his mouth.
“Is the food not to your liking?” Their waitress, a young, pretty Chinese girl with her glossy black hair pulled back in an elegant chignon, appeared at the table in their table as if by magic. She wore a trim black uniform with a red vest like the rest of the staff. She glanced disapprovingly at the untouched food on D’s plate, but her smile never wavered.
“The food was wonderful,” D assured her with an apologetic smile. “Unfortunately, I have no appetite today.”
“Would you like a to-go box?”
“Yes, please. That would be lovely. Thank you.”
D watched her leave then glanced around him, admiring the open and spacious feel of the private room Jin Li had requested for their meeting. He had had some misgivings about this restaurant once that rude, lecherous cab driver had pulled into an overcrowded plaza that was home to nine businesses, including three restaurants, a bank, bakery, spa and a Charles Schwab. His had had his misgivings when he had first seen the green awnings and the outdoor dining tables with their matching parasols and the line of people waiting to get inside.
Despite its rather uninspiring exterior of the building, he was relieved that the interior was more suited to his tastes. The private room was spacious and tastefully appointed and the tables and chairs made from a warm, polished wood. The overall feeling was one of quite elegance. Soothing music filtered in through hidden speakers, a Chinese love ballad from years gone by.
With a contented sigh, Jin Li pushed his now empty plate aside. “I never thought I’d find such marvelous food outside of China,” he patted his flat belly happily and leaned back in his chair.
When their waitress returned with a carry-out container and a tray with a tea pot and two cups, D smiled warmly at her. Gracefully, she set the tray on the table then put D’s untouched food in the container.
Jin Li nodded his head thoughtfully and complimented her lavishly in Chinese for her service and the quality of the meal. She blushed and bobbed into a half-curtsey-half-bow and beamed a smile at him.
“Please see that my friend and I are not disturbed for a while,” he added in English and pressed several bills into her hand. “If we need anything, we’ll let you know.”
The waitress glanced down at the money, then up at Jin Li, her eyes a touch large. “Why, yes, sir, absolutely. If you need anything at all, do not hesitate to ask.”
D poured tea for Jin Li then himself and took a small sip. Fragrant steam wisped up into his face and he savored its rich aroma for a few moments before setting the cup back down and turning his attention to the young man across from him.
“Do you have the letter my father wrote?” Jin Li asked quietly.
“I do.”
“May I see it?”
D retrieved the letter from the concealed pocket in the bell-like sleeve of his chao-fu and handed it to Jin Li. The young man accepted it gingerly, unfolded the thin paper and began to read, his dark eyes scanning over the thin vertical columns of calligraphy. Finally, he folded the letter and laid it on the table.
“What do you know of your people’s history, Count D?”
“Not much, I am afraid.” D sighed and lowered his eyes to the cup he held in his hands. “As you know, my people were slaughtered on the whim of a jealous, enraged tyrant. Only one man survived. Our culture, beliefs, teachings have been all but lost in the mists of antiquity.”
“So you know nothing of the demon, Akugi-Ma?”
“That is correct.”
“Then allow me to tell you a story of two people, now mortal enemies, that once worked together to save the world from the clutches of a monster.”
***
Leon awoke to the rumble of an engine vibrating through a cold floor. Blearily, he cracked his eyes open to half-mast, willing them to focus. There wasn’t much to see, only the bare interior of a van. There were no seats and no padding on the floor, just a bare expanse of metal that was sapping the heat from his body.
He remembered a red-haired man coming up behind him, calling him by name, then the surge of electricity jolting its way through his body, incapacitating him. How long had he been out? Ten minutes? Twenty? He couldn’t see a clock, but he knew from Academy training that the effects of a stun gun didn’t last all that long. Chances were very good that they were still within Los Angeles city limits… the only question was where?
Opening his eyes fully, Leon tried to turn his head enough to look out of the van’s windows, but from where he lay stretched out on belly on the floor it was all but impossible. Looking toward the front of the van, he could see a man’s hand gripping a faux-leather padded steering wheel. A black satchel sat on the floor besides him, the top open. It looked like something a veterinarian might carry… or a doctor.
That little observation wasn’t as comforting as he might have thought. In fact, it upped the panic that nibbled ferociously at his innards.
Okay, Orcot, calm down. Freaking out isn’t going to do any good.
Slowly, he shifted his weight, grimacing against the pain that flared through his head. The pain seemed concentrated in one spot then he vaguely remembered his skull bouncing against his car before hitting the pavement. Damn it. Taking a slow, quiet breath, he tried moving his arms, which were pinned behind his back. His hands were numb and he could feel the cold metal of handcuffs on his wrists.
No… he didn’t. Not my own cuffs? Leon suppressed a groan of frustration. Shit, Jill will never let me hear the end of this.
“I know you’re awake.” The man’s voice came from the front seat, cool and calm. It startled him. “I can hear you moving around.”
“Look,” Leon rasped, then paused for a second, surprised at how dry and weak his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I think there’s been some sort of mistake here.”
“No mistake.” This time he could have sworn he heard a smile in the man’s voice, smug, condescending. “Like I told you, the boss wants to talk to you.”
“What’s this about?” Leon demanded, gruffly, but instead of sounding bad-ass, he voice came out thin, reedy. Shit, so much for bravado. This was not the image he wanted to portray. He was a cop, for Christ’s sake, one of the good guys. He shouldn’t sound like a nervous teenager in a slasher film no matter how dire the situation.
And the situation did appear to be dire… very dire.
“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”
They drove on in silence for several more minutes before Leon felt the van slow then come to an idling stop. Mystery man threw the van into reverse for a few seconds then killed the engine. Silence descended and there was only the sound of their breathing and the tick of the cooling engine.
“Lucy, I’m home,” he sang in a flat, off-tuned voice then laughed. Leon kept his mouth shut and waited for something to happen.
He didn’t have to wait long.
The big man reached into the open satchel and withdrew something, but it was hidden from Leon’s view. But he was betting that whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be anything good.
“We’re going to have a lot of fun with you, Detective.”
The man came lumbering toward him, bent over so his head wouldn’t hit the top of the van. Crouching next to Leon, he pushed him over onto his back with a small grunt of effort. Then Leon felt the heat of the man’s hand on one denim clad thigh. His breath caught in his throat as it moved higher, caressing him. Mystery man stared down at him, a smiling leer on his face. His hand inched even higher.
“Son of a bitch!” Leon clenched his teeth and tried to pull away but his body failed to respond.
And then he saw the hypodermic.
He couldn’t react even if he had wanted to, but that didn’t stop him from making an effort all the same. Helplessly, he saw the flash of the needle, and then heard his own cry of pain as the tip drove through the denim and into his thigh.
Whatever it was, it burned going in. He could feel the heat roaring through his veins even as he futilely tried to pull free from his assailant. What the fuck had he been dosed with? And how long would it take to have an effect?
Apparently it was a fast acting drug, whatever it was. The van’s side door rumbled open, then, taking one of his hands, the red haired man yanked him to his feet, putting one of his broad shoulders under his in an effort to support his weight. And it was a good thing he did because Leon’s legs felt like floppy rubber as he was eased out of the van and onto the broken cement.
Where the hell were they? He couldn’t bring his eyes into focus, though he got the sense that it was a wide, enclosed space. Could they be on the wharf? An abandoned warehouse? His thoughts reeled drunkenly away. Voices called out and he heard his attacker answer, but he couldn’t make out the words over the angry-bee buzzing in his head.
He was being dragged, the red man shuffling forward as he supported his weight. Then the arms supporting him were removed and he slumped like a rag doll down onto the cold cement, his body almost totally numb. The smell of motor oil and dust drifted to him, along with the dry, nose wrinkling scent of rust. Wherever he was, it hadn’t been used or properly cleaned in a long, long time.
The smells were bad enough, but there was something else riding the undercurrent of the air. It was all pervasive, a heavy and sinister miasma. It was suffocating and it was all he could do to not vomit because he knew this smell - old, copper pennies… and slaughterhouses. It was the smell of blood and death and terror.
And that’s when he knew he was in real trouble.
Hands gripped him beneath his shoulders, grasping him beneath his arms. He was hauled up and with a series of grunts and curses, set on a flat, metal surface. A table, or counter, of some kind, he wasn’t certain which. Feebly, he tried to struggle as he felt his clothes being removed but then more hands took him by the wrists, the ankles, and he felt his limbs being first extended then secured by some sort of heavy restraints. Chains, he guessed fuzzily, judging by the sound of metal links clanking.
What the fuck…?
He heard more voices, his attacker talking to another man, the distant murmuring of other voices in the background. The new voice gave a sharp command but he couldn’t make out the words. Whatever he had said, it sounded Chinese. The command was repeated in English and Leon could clearly make out the words Leave us.
Ah, so they were clearing out the riffraff so they could do whatever they were planning on doing in privacy. Shit. That didn’t bode well for him at all. Whatever they were going to do, they didn’t want any extra witnesses.
The new voice, a man’s with a distinctive Chinese accent, sounded somewhere from his left, much closer than before. “Ah, Detective Orcot, it is so nice to finally meet you face to face.”
Leon tried to focus his eyes, but the man’s face remained a blurry mess. It might have been a handsome man, but his face seemed to be somehow distorted on one side, mauled even.
“What do you want?” Or at least that’s what he tried to say. The words came out like so much mush.
“Craig, you fool!” The new man snapped. “You’ve given him too much. I need him to be immobilized, not unconscious.”
The red haired man’s voice mumbled out an apology. Leon heard the sounds of footsteps retreating, then after an eternity, they returned, shuffling rapidly across the floor. Something heavy sounding hit the floor then there was the sound of hands shuffling through its contents. He felt the press of a needle against his neck, then the sharp pain of the shot being administered.
Almost immediately he felt his thoughts take on a sharper edge and with clarity of thought came a growing fear. Whatever they intended to do to him, these men meant business… serious business. And that could only mean bad things for him.
As his thoughts cleared, so too did his vision. The numbness eased and was replaced by the pins and needles feeling one got after their hands or feet fell asleep. Alas, the added feeling in his extremities would do him no good seeing as he was now chained down to what looked disturbingly like an operation table. The metal was cold against his bare skin and he began to shiver.
“What do you want?” His voice was thin, reedy. Very pre-teenager-ish. Shit.
“I am Kuan Yin and I have questions,” the new voice replied coolly. “I believe you may have some answers.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Good, defiance was good. He just needed to work on the delivery because thin and breathy did not create a very macho image.
“No, of course you don’t,” Kuan Yin sneered. “But allow me to refresh your memory, if I may.”
He held out a long object with a red handle very similar to a sword but with a trigger and a strap to attach to the users wrist. It had a long thin metal shaft about the twice the length of a police baton, and a red tip. “Do you know what this is, Detective Orcot?”
Not exactly, Leon thought wildly as his heart thudded faster in his ears. But I bet you’re going to tell me.
“It is a cattle prod.” A nasty smile played across Kuan Yin’s face. The wound that marred his otherwise handsome face rippled as the muscles moved, like a red snake on sand. “I don’t believe I have to explain what it is used for? Or what it’s capable of doing?”
Leon shook his head, unable to take his eyes from the red tip, the long, thin metal rod, or Kuan Yin’s finger, which caressed the trigger lovingly.
“Now that I have your full attention,” Kuan Yin said in a soft, deadly voice, “why don’t you start by telling me where the sacred blade and ring are?”
Leon frowned in puzzlement. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Such a pity. You really don’t seem to understand the seriousness of the position you are in.” Kuan Yin sighed softly, a teacher disappointed in his student. “I suppose a little demonstration is in order.”
He laid the red tip of the prod against Leon’s chest, just under his right nipple, and pulled the trigger. Electricity raced through his body and Leon screamed, body arching like a landed trout. His fingers and toes clenched, unclenched, as he strained against the chains, but the restraints easily held them in place.
Finally, Kuan Yin removed the prod from his flesh and watched with quiet detachment as Leon twisted and writhed, his breath coming in harsh gasps. “That was the lowest setting, Detective. I can – and will – go higher if you continue to play this stubborn little game of yours.”
“Why don’t you just take the information that you want like you did to the old man?” Craig asked, his voice coming from somewhere off to Leon’s left.
“Because, you idiot,” Kuan Yin snapped, “I can’t afford to destroy his mind. Not yet. He’s no good to me dead. And dead is exactly what he will be if I have dig through his mind for answers.”
He turned his attention back to Leon and that evil smile played across his lips. “Besides, there are other, more enjoyable ways to break him. And I haven’t had this much fun in years.”
Once more the prod was lowered toward Leon’s bare chest just about the first spot, which was already forming a red welt. With wide eyes, Leon tried to shift away from the tip, but there was nowhere for him to go. Nothing he could do to prevent further pain except answer Kuan Yin’s damn questions. The only problem is that he didn’t have any answers he wanted because he didn’t know anything.
Not that this maniac would believe him.
“You have admirable courage, I must admit,” Kuan Yin mused, tracing the red tip teasingly around one nipple. “I can see why Count D has taken you for a lover, despite the fact that you are nothing but a lowly human.”
Leon felt his cheeks warm. “We’re not lovers,” he mumbled, turning his head away from his torturer and closing his eyes. And technically, it was the truth. He and D had done many things that night in his bedroom that pushed the boundaries between friends and lovers, but they had not crossed the line…though not for want of trying on Leon’s part.
The wand slapped sharply against his skin and Leon yelped. “There’s no need to lie to me, Detective. I saw the love bites you left on his chest. Proof of your possession.”
“I already told you-“ Leon said angrily, then broke off as realization hit. It was highly unlikely that D would tell anyone of their little make-out session in his bedroom. But obviously this madman knew about them, which meant that he… and D…
A red cloud of pure rage descended upon Leon at the thought of anyone putting their hands on D in any way, shape or form. “What have you done to D, you bastard?” He snarled, yanking against his restraints in impudent rage.
“Nothing I’m sure you haven’t done yourself, Detective.” Kuan Yin purred. “Now, let’s get back to business, shall we? Where are the sacred items?”
“Fuck you!”
“Such language, Detective,” Kuan Yin shook his head in mock disappointment. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
The red tip of the prod nudged against Leon’s ribcage and with obvious satisfaction, Kuan Yin pulled the trigger, sending a higher voltage of electricity ripping through the helpless man’s body. Leon writhed and screamed before collapsing back against the table once the prod was finally removed.
This continued for some time.
Sweat and tears streamed down Leon’s face, his trembling body covered in a criss-crossing of angry, red welts and ugly burns. Long shadows filled the warehouse as the sunlight faded to night. But Kuan Yin’s work wasn’t finished yet.
“Please… stop.” Leon whispered hoarsely, struggling to catch his breath. “I don’t know… I don’t know where they are. Please… please…”
“You’re lying.” Kuan Yin replied, slapping the now inactive prod against the palm of one hand in a frustrated tattoo.
“I’m not.” Leon panted. “Swear I’m not.”
Kuan Yin stared at him for several long seconds, considering. Things were not working as he had planned and it was becoming increasingly clear that the Detective really didn’t know anything after all.
Then finally he shrugged angrily, determined to take his frustrations out on somebody. “Only one way to find out, now, isn’t there?”
It was a very long time before Leon finally stopped screaming.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Wow, it's been almost a year since I posted anything for this story. ^^' I'm a bad fanfic writer.
Pairings: Leon x D
Category: Supernatural/Drama
Rating: R
Warning: Shonen Ai/Yaoi. Language. Violence. Torture.
Title: Man-Eater
Author: yellowhorde
Notes: Sequel to 'Denial', which is set before Volume 9's fourth chapter, Dynasty
Previous Chapters:
01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14
Half-heartedly, D pushed the vegetarian fried rice on his plate around with his chopsticks, making no real effort to eat. Though the food at Din Tai Fung really was remarkable, he hadn’t been able to swallow more than a few bites. Jin Li, on the other hand, was having no such difficulties - he had already cleared his steamer of its load of steamed shrimp and pork dumplings with admirable gusto and was even now popping the last one into his mouth.
“Is the food not to your liking?” Their waitress, a young, pretty Chinese girl with her glossy black hair pulled back in an elegant chignon, appeared at the table in their table as if by magic. She wore a trim black uniform with a red vest like the rest of the staff. She glanced disapprovingly at the untouched food on D’s plate, but her smile never wavered.
“The food was wonderful,” D assured her with an apologetic smile. “Unfortunately, I have no appetite today.”
“Would you like a to-go box?”
“Yes, please. That would be lovely. Thank you.”
D watched her leave then glanced around him, admiring the open and spacious feel of the private room Jin Li had requested for their meeting. He had had some misgivings about this restaurant once that rude, lecherous cab driver had pulled into an overcrowded plaza that was home to nine businesses, including three restaurants, a bank, bakery, spa and a Charles Schwab. His had had his misgivings when he had first seen the green awnings and the outdoor dining tables with their matching parasols and the line of people waiting to get inside.
Despite its rather uninspiring exterior of the building, he was relieved that the interior was more suited to his tastes. The private room was spacious and tastefully appointed and the tables and chairs made from a warm, polished wood. The overall feeling was one of quite elegance. Soothing music filtered in through hidden speakers, a Chinese love ballad from years gone by.
With a contented sigh, Jin Li pushed his now empty plate aside. “I never thought I’d find such marvelous food outside of China,” he patted his flat belly happily and leaned back in his chair.
When their waitress returned with a carry-out container and a tray with a tea pot and two cups, D smiled warmly at her. Gracefully, she set the tray on the table then put D’s untouched food in the container.
Jin Li nodded his head thoughtfully and complimented her lavishly in Chinese for her service and the quality of the meal. She blushed and bobbed into a half-curtsey-half-bow and beamed a smile at him.
“Please see that my friend and I are not disturbed for a while,” he added in English and pressed several bills into her hand. “If we need anything, we’ll let you know.”
The waitress glanced down at the money, then up at Jin Li, her eyes a touch large. “Why, yes, sir, absolutely. If you need anything at all, do not hesitate to ask.”
D poured tea for Jin Li then himself and took a small sip. Fragrant steam wisped up into his face and he savored its rich aroma for a few moments before setting the cup back down and turning his attention to the young man across from him.
“Do you have the letter my father wrote?” Jin Li asked quietly.
“I do.”
“May I see it?”
D retrieved the letter from the concealed pocket in the bell-like sleeve of his chao-fu and handed it to Jin Li. The young man accepted it gingerly, unfolded the thin paper and began to read, his dark eyes scanning over the thin vertical columns of calligraphy. Finally, he folded the letter and laid it on the table.
“What do you know of your people’s history, Count D?”
“Not much, I am afraid.” D sighed and lowered his eyes to the cup he held in his hands. “As you know, my people were slaughtered on the whim of a jealous, enraged tyrant. Only one man survived. Our culture, beliefs, teachings have been all but lost in the mists of antiquity.”
“So you know nothing of the demon, Akugi-Ma?”
“That is correct.”
“Then allow me to tell you a story of two people, now mortal enemies, that once worked together to save the world from the clutches of a monster.”
***
Leon awoke to the rumble of an engine vibrating through a cold floor. Blearily, he cracked his eyes open to half-mast, willing them to focus. There wasn’t much to see, only the bare interior of a van. There were no seats and no padding on the floor, just a bare expanse of metal that was sapping the heat from his body.
He remembered a red-haired man coming up behind him, calling him by name, then the surge of electricity jolting its way through his body, incapacitating him. How long had he been out? Ten minutes? Twenty? He couldn’t see a clock, but he knew from Academy training that the effects of a stun gun didn’t last all that long. Chances were very good that they were still within Los Angeles city limits… the only question was where?
Opening his eyes fully, Leon tried to turn his head enough to look out of the van’s windows, but from where he lay stretched out on belly on the floor it was all but impossible. Looking toward the front of the van, he could see a man’s hand gripping a faux-leather padded steering wheel. A black satchel sat on the floor besides him, the top open. It looked like something a veterinarian might carry… or a doctor.
That little observation wasn’t as comforting as he might have thought. In fact, it upped the panic that nibbled ferociously at his innards.
Okay, Orcot, calm down. Freaking out isn’t going to do any good.
Slowly, he shifted his weight, grimacing against the pain that flared through his head. The pain seemed concentrated in one spot then he vaguely remembered his skull bouncing against his car before hitting the pavement. Damn it. Taking a slow, quiet breath, he tried moving his arms, which were pinned behind his back. His hands were numb and he could feel the cold metal of handcuffs on his wrists.
No… he didn’t. Not my own cuffs? Leon suppressed a groan of frustration. Shit, Jill will never let me hear the end of this.
“I know you’re awake.” The man’s voice came from the front seat, cool and calm. It startled him. “I can hear you moving around.”
“Look,” Leon rasped, then paused for a second, surprised at how dry and weak his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I think there’s been some sort of mistake here.”
“No mistake.” This time he could have sworn he heard a smile in the man’s voice, smug, condescending. “Like I told you, the boss wants to talk to you.”
“What’s this about?” Leon demanded, gruffly, but instead of sounding bad-ass, he voice came out thin, reedy. Shit, so much for bravado. This was not the image he wanted to portray. He was a cop, for Christ’s sake, one of the good guys. He shouldn’t sound like a nervous teenager in a slasher film no matter how dire the situation.
And the situation did appear to be dire… very dire.
“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”
They drove on in silence for several more minutes before Leon felt the van slow then come to an idling stop. Mystery man threw the van into reverse for a few seconds then killed the engine. Silence descended and there was only the sound of their breathing and the tick of the cooling engine.
“Lucy, I’m home,” he sang in a flat, off-tuned voice then laughed. Leon kept his mouth shut and waited for something to happen.
He didn’t have to wait long.
The big man reached into the open satchel and withdrew something, but it was hidden from Leon’s view. But he was betting that whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be anything good.
“We’re going to have a lot of fun with you, Detective.”
The man came lumbering toward him, bent over so his head wouldn’t hit the top of the van. Crouching next to Leon, he pushed him over onto his back with a small grunt of effort. Then Leon felt the heat of the man’s hand on one denim clad thigh. His breath caught in his throat as it moved higher, caressing him. Mystery man stared down at him, a smiling leer on his face. His hand inched even higher.
“Son of a bitch!” Leon clenched his teeth and tried to pull away but his body failed to respond.
And then he saw the hypodermic.
He couldn’t react even if he had wanted to, but that didn’t stop him from making an effort all the same. Helplessly, he saw the flash of the needle, and then heard his own cry of pain as the tip drove through the denim and into his thigh.
Whatever it was, it burned going in. He could feel the heat roaring through his veins even as he futilely tried to pull free from his assailant. What the fuck had he been dosed with? And how long would it take to have an effect?
Apparently it was a fast acting drug, whatever it was. The van’s side door rumbled open, then, taking one of his hands, the red haired man yanked him to his feet, putting one of his broad shoulders under his in an effort to support his weight. And it was a good thing he did because Leon’s legs felt like floppy rubber as he was eased out of the van and onto the broken cement.
Where the hell were they? He couldn’t bring his eyes into focus, though he got the sense that it was a wide, enclosed space. Could they be on the wharf? An abandoned warehouse? His thoughts reeled drunkenly away. Voices called out and he heard his attacker answer, but he couldn’t make out the words over the angry-bee buzzing in his head.
He was being dragged, the red man shuffling forward as he supported his weight. Then the arms supporting him were removed and he slumped like a rag doll down onto the cold cement, his body almost totally numb. The smell of motor oil and dust drifted to him, along with the dry, nose wrinkling scent of rust. Wherever he was, it hadn’t been used or properly cleaned in a long, long time.
The smells were bad enough, but there was something else riding the undercurrent of the air. It was all pervasive, a heavy and sinister miasma. It was suffocating and it was all he could do to not vomit because he knew this smell - old, copper pennies… and slaughterhouses. It was the smell of blood and death and terror.
And that’s when he knew he was in real trouble.
Hands gripped him beneath his shoulders, grasping him beneath his arms. He was hauled up and with a series of grunts and curses, set on a flat, metal surface. A table, or counter, of some kind, he wasn’t certain which. Feebly, he tried to struggle as he felt his clothes being removed but then more hands took him by the wrists, the ankles, and he felt his limbs being first extended then secured by some sort of heavy restraints. Chains, he guessed fuzzily, judging by the sound of metal links clanking.
What the fuck…?
He heard more voices, his attacker talking to another man, the distant murmuring of other voices in the background. The new voice gave a sharp command but he couldn’t make out the words. Whatever he had said, it sounded Chinese. The command was repeated in English and Leon could clearly make out the words Leave us.
Ah, so they were clearing out the riffraff so they could do whatever they were planning on doing in privacy. Shit. That didn’t bode well for him at all. Whatever they were going to do, they didn’t want any extra witnesses.
The new voice, a man’s with a distinctive Chinese accent, sounded somewhere from his left, much closer than before. “Ah, Detective Orcot, it is so nice to finally meet you face to face.”
Leon tried to focus his eyes, but the man’s face remained a blurry mess. It might have been a handsome man, but his face seemed to be somehow distorted on one side, mauled even.
“What do you want?” Or at least that’s what he tried to say. The words came out like so much mush.
“Craig, you fool!” The new man snapped. “You’ve given him too much. I need him to be immobilized, not unconscious.”
The red haired man’s voice mumbled out an apology. Leon heard the sounds of footsteps retreating, then after an eternity, they returned, shuffling rapidly across the floor. Something heavy sounding hit the floor then there was the sound of hands shuffling through its contents. He felt the press of a needle against his neck, then the sharp pain of the shot being administered.
Almost immediately he felt his thoughts take on a sharper edge and with clarity of thought came a growing fear. Whatever they intended to do to him, these men meant business… serious business. And that could only mean bad things for him.
As his thoughts cleared, so too did his vision. The numbness eased and was replaced by the pins and needles feeling one got after their hands or feet fell asleep. Alas, the added feeling in his extremities would do him no good seeing as he was now chained down to what looked disturbingly like an operation table. The metal was cold against his bare skin and he began to shiver.
“What do you want?” His voice was thin, reedy. Very pre-teenager-ish. Shit.
“I am Kuan Yin and I have questions,” the new voice replied coolly. “I believe you may have some answers.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Good, defiance was good. He just needed to work on the delivery because thin and breathy did not create a very macho image.
“No, of course you don’t,” Kuan Yin sneered. “But allow me to refresh your memory, if I may.”
He held out a long object with a red handle very similar to a sword but with a trigger and a strap to attach to the users wrist. It had a long thin metal shaft about the twice the length of a police baton, and a red tip. “Do you know what this is, Detective Orcot?”
Not exactly, Leon thought wildly as his heart thudded faster in his ears. But I bet you’re going to tell me.
“It is a cattle prod.” A nasty smile played across Kuan Yin’s face. The wound that marred his otherwise handsome face rippled as the muscles moved, like a red snake on sand. “I don’t believe I have to explain what it is used for? Or what it’s capable of doing?”
Leon shook his head, unable to take his eyes from the red tip, the long, thin metal rod, or Kuan Yin’s finger, which caressed the trigger lovingly.
“Now that I have your full attention,” Kuan Yin said in a soft, deadly voice, “why don’t you start by telling me where the sacred blade and ring are?”
Leon frowned in puzzlement. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Such a pity. You really don’t seem to understand the seriousness of the position you are in.” Kuan Yin sighed softly, a teacher disappointed in his student. “I suppose a little demonstration is in order.”
He laid the red tip of the prod against Leon’s chest, just under his right nipple, and pulled the trigger. Electricity raced through his body and Leon screamed, body arching like a landed trout. His fingers and toes clenched, unclenched, as he strained against the chains, but the restraints easily held them in place.
Finally, Kuan Yin removed the prod from his flesh and watched with quiet detachment as Leon twisted and writhed, his breath coming in harsh gasps. “That was the lowest setting, Detective. I can – and will – go higher if you continue to play this stubborn little game of yours.”
“Why don’t you just take the information that you want like you did to the old man?” Craig asked, his voice coming from somewhere off to Leon’s left.
“Because, you idiot,” Kuan Yin snapped, “I can’t afford to destroy his mind. Not yet. He’s no good to me dead. And dead is exactly what he will be if I have dig through his mind for answers.”
He turned his attention back to Leon and that evil smile played across his lips. “Besides, there are other, more enjoyable ways to break him. And I haven’t had this much fun in years.”
Once more the prod was lowered toward Leon’s bare chest just about the first spot, which was already forming a red welt. With wide eyes, Leon tried to shift away from the tip, but there was nowhere for him to go. Nothing he could do to prevent further pain except answer Kuan Yin’s damn questions. The only problem is that he didn’t have any answers he wanted because he didn’t know anything.
Not that this maniac would believe him.
“You have admirable courage, I must admit,” Kuan Yin mused, tracing the red tip teasingly around one nipple. “I can see why Count D has taken you for a lover, despite the fact that you are nothing but a lowly human.”
Leon felt his cheeks warm. “We’re not lovers,” he mumbled, turning his head away from his torturer and closing his eyes. And technically, it was the truth. He and D had done many things that night in his bedroom that pushed the boundaries between friends and lovers, but they had not crossed the line…though not for want of trying on Leon’s part.
The wand slapped sharply against his skin and Leon yelped. “There’s no need to lie to me, Detective. I saw the love bites you left on his chest. Proof of your possession.”
“I already told you-“ Leon said angrily, then broke off as realization hit. It was highly unlikely that D would tell anyone of their little make-out session in his bedroom. But obviously this madman knew about them, which meant that he… and D…
A red cloud of pure rage descended upon Leon at the thought of anyone putting their hands on D in any way, shape or form. “What have you done to D, you bastard?” He snarled, yanking against his restraints in impudent rage.
“Nothing I’m sure you haven’t done yourself, Detective.” Kuan Yin purred. “Now, let’s get back to business, shall we? Where are the sacred items?”
“Fuck you!”
“Such language, Detective,” Kuan Yin shook his head in mock disappointment. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
The red tip of the prod nudged against Leon’s ribcage and with obvious satisfaction, Kuan Yin pulled the trigger, sending a higher voltage of electricity ripping through the helpless man’s body. Leon writhed and screamed before collapsing back against the table once the prod was finally removed.
This continued for some time.
Sweat and tears streamed down Leon’s face, his trembling body covered in a criss-crossing of angry, red welts and ugly burns. Long shadows filled the warehouse as the sunlight faded to night. But Kuan Yin’s work wasn’t finished yet.
“Please… stop.” Leon whispered hoarsely, struggling to catch his breath. “I don’t know… I don’t know where they are. Please… please…”
“You’re lying.” Kuan Yin replied, slapping the now inactive prod against the palm of one hand in a frustrated tattoo.
“I’m not.” Leon panted. “Swear I’m not.”
Kuan Yin stared at him for several long seconds, considering. Things were not working as he had planned and it was becoming increasingly clear that the Detective really didn’t know anything after all.
Then finally he shrugged angrily, determined to take his frustrations out on somebody. “Only one way to find out, now, isn’t there?”
It was a very long time before Leon finally stopped screaming.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Wow, it's been almost a year since I posted anything for this story. ^^' I'm a bad fanfic writer.
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Date: 2008-11-29 11:32 pm (UTC)I read this chapter, and now I'm so intrigued, love it, gotta read the past ones. XDD *runs back to them excited*
I love your drabbles dearly.
But you, my dear, are one of the few fanfic writers, that keep me hooked on the longer stories, desperately wanting another chapter. XD ♥
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Date: 2008-11-30 01:43 pm (UTC)I've been working on this story on and off since February 2005. ^^' So my New Year's Resolution will probably be to finish this and/or The Hunted before the end of 2009.