Flashpoint

Flashpoint (IV)

The Ending?

Author’s Note: This story contains extreme violence, so if you balk at that sort of thing, I suggest perhaps skipping it. However, if you like a good slasher/mystery that is gay themed; I don’t know about how well as it is sort of out of my element. Yet I tried, I hope anyone that reads it enjoys it. I am a physicist in life, and this is all just imagination, none of this is real. With the exception when I quote facts of statistics in the story. -Be Well

SYLS

---

Mr. X was doing his best to keep up with the fine traditions of creating truly creepy scenes, like those in the movie ,7, or pick your spook flick he was trying. They were in the basement of a big country house that belonged to his cousin who did not even live in this state. So, he had been making use of it currently, he and Conner Lewis were in the center of a large room in the basement. Mr. X had taken the time to poor the concrete for the bars for an authentic jail cell. He had one entrance/exit, that could be secured with a heavy chain and a couple of serious looking padlocks. The big man was currently sitting on the opposite end of the cell from his returned slave.

He had Conner naked, and he was chained to the opposite side of the cell, but he was on his knees. He was having to lean back because behind him was something he could not make out. Mr. X had run a thin black looking rope that came from it, and had it looped around his poor slave’s throat where it fed back into the thing again. Most of the time it was fine, but every so often, the thing would start making a pulling sound and things would get very tight. You never knew how long it was going to last. Eventually it would loosen back up and it made a bit of hissing noise as you did it.

Mr. X asked, “Do you like it?”

Conner said, “Like what you sick fuck?”

“The FunPenis9611 series that is doing that to you, is designed with a choke connection/s and several patterns it will run. It is variable by remote control, which I have here. That is why careful, cause out of 10 you are at 3 now. Piss me off I will set it to 7 and go away for a day. No, it will not accidentally overdo it, you have an O2 sensor on you and it knows where to not let that fall to. I could just leave you hear till you thirst to death, but I can’t bring myself to kill you. That does not mean that I cannot make your life a living hell. It might behoove you to want to please me, or that will be the case.”

Conner knew it would be useless, but he tried anyway, “Vincent what happened to you? You were the perfect partner then you just got mean and I did not know what to do. I mean one week we are skiing in the Adirondacks and the next you have me all tied up in a bed and wrap a rope around my throat and regardless of how much I beg, you just keep choking me all night at random. Even, and most especially when you fuck me. Why?”

The eyes in the mask seemed to focus for a moment and looked at him. “I don’t know, I have done several things that normally would have been abhorrent to me. I have hurt a lot of people Conner, there is only one reason. Because it makes me feel good to do it, and it should not.”

He took his big penis out and began to slowly rub it up and down.

He went on as he did, “I should, remove that rope from you after I turn that machine off, but since I have had you down here, with that machine working it on you, I have been hard. You are so very clever, you got me good with that suicide thing. Look at you as well, being the good Samaritan and going to the police. Did it not ever occur to you that since I started killing more people than bubonic plague that I might have some eyes down at police central?”

Conner Lewis started laughing, and Mr. X was confused by it.

He demanded, “Shut up! What the fuck are you laughing about? That machine may have an O2 sensor on it, but I can walk back there and grab those ropes and I don’t.”

Conner said, “It is just O2 deprivation, to show you good will, I will show you how much I am sorry……., master.”

Mr. X liked that and got up and put his dick into Conner’s mouth.

“Open wide and mind the teeth bitch.” He even reached over and turned the machine off as he pushed it in.

Conner Lewis would continue to play this stupid game, but his joke was still funny. Because, yes, he had thought that, and Chief Inspector Henry Richards had expected it. They had fucked up and not been in place in time before Mr. X grabbed Conner Lewis. But inside his tennis shoe, stored safely away upstairs was a good all-purpose GPS in the heel of it. So as the big guy was throat fucking the tied-up Conner, outside it looked dark.

There were SWAT people all over the grounds wearing night vision gear, the two detectives were with them.

 

“Crackle-Snap.”

Henry’s voice over the radio, “Stay off the goddamned radio!”

He told everyone quietly, “Get ready to enter the house and sweep up and work your way down. No one is ever alone, two-man rule, let’s get this guy we have a young male civilian being held we believe. Securing him is a priority, now go.”

 

Mr. X was driving and driving his cock into his old slave’s throat, and he had just managed to cut loose and was currently looking up as his cock, pumped Conner’s mouthful of his cum. The tied up young man swallowed it; he knew they would be coming. This man that had him in the getup was not the man he had known when they met. Whatever it was that had changed him had really done a bang-up job as he used to be kind and gentle. Conner can remember calling him his gentle giant, but that was not what was here now.

Mr. X said, “You are still quite good at that.”

He had some cameras setup over on the wall that covered the grounds and the SWAT team had done well accounting for most of them. There always must be one or two, though.  Mr. X watched the SWAT team swarming the grounds getting ready to hit the house and one of his cameras went down.

He turned and got his mask even with Conner’s face and said, “Oh, you are always full of such wonderful surprises. This is the second time I should kill you, but I cannot, and you are mine and you always will be. Just wait, I will be back to get you.”

He reached over and turned the machine back on and exited the cage and hit his escape contingency and exited down a manhole cover looking thing. Mr. X had known this was inevitable if he intended to complete his grand plan. That damn Conner, he was a slippery little shit, but he would have a wire wrapped around that throat again. It was only a matter of time. By the time the FBI had swept and cleared the fist floors. They swung the basement door open, and a computer was playing loud music that reverberated throughout the house once the door was opened.  It was playing a song entitled, Remember We Die, it was by a group called Gemini Syndrome.

Henry could remember from the reports he had left them that song playing over and over at one other crime scene. He came down the steps and found the big central room with the cage in it. Conner Lewis was all chained up and some kind of machine was working his throat over with a couple of ropes. He called for help, and they all set about getting him free. He went back and turned the machine off and got it loosened from the young Conner’s neck. He got in his radio and called for medi-vac, flaunt it when you had to, the young man seemed fine but this way they would be sure. They had to take the time to use cutting torches to free him and they were working fast.

           

Over a mile away, back away from the side of the country road, what looked like a stump, in a place no one would ever check popped open, and Mr. X emerged. There was a black Mercedes sedan waiting for him. He climbed in, found some music he liked, and drove off into the night.

 

They had searched the grounds thoroughly, and the slippery SOB had seemed to have gotten away from them. Collin Lawson was found in his cage downstairs with the machine choking away on him. It was stopped with the combination of locksmiths a bolt cutter they had freed the young man and loaded him onto a medical evacuation helicopter, to the nearest level I trauma center.  If those shitheads would have just not missed those cameras. Henry was getting more and more frustrated, then he stopped himself in mid-stride. He thought to himself, ‘No one, would be that arrogant, surely? The fuck this guy won’t!’ He headed towards his car and was not wasting any time.

His partner, jogged up and said, “Hey boss, where you headed in such a hurry?”

Chief Inspector Henry Richardson did something very uncharacteristic, he lied, “There is something urgent I need to see to as in now, you have tactical command here till I get back. Or we see each other at the station, either way. Turn this place upside down if he left anything I want it.”

He jumped into his police sedan and sped off into the night. He had a look of nothing but sheer determination on his face, he bet he knew where this fucker was heading. He just hopes he was not too late. This job, was sometimes like one of those giant snakes that surprises their prey in shallow water, coil up around whatever the poor unfortunate animal was and squeezed and drown them to death.  As he double timed it down the freeway, now that he was on it, he could see each face of the young men this man he was after had removed from the world. The universe was a maelstrom of cruelty sometimes, he had talked to that oncologist and the neurologist that treated this man.  He had never been this way, he was as much victim here as anyone, his was just to mutation in the cells of his own body. He had not asked for it, and yes, he was what many would classify as wonky in the bedroom arena, he had also read the reports. Yet, until they detected the cancer and it had not responded and it got in his brain early.

He was still in good physical shape, just some vital areas of his brain were wiped out by the cancer. The young man he had just sent to the hospital via helicopter, he could also see a picture of him and Vincent together when they first met. They both looked so happy and that snake around him tightened a little more. Mr. X a.k.a. Vincent Miller, had to be stopped if he could not be arrested, he would take care of it.

Mr. X was in his Penthouse Suite downtown and was rummaging some things together. He had a cedar chest open, but the type that is like a stand-alone cabinet. He had thrown several things in a chair and closed the door, and sitting in a chair by the bed was detective Henry Richards.

Mr. X looked at him impassively from his mask and finally said, “I never thought any of you would think I would hit this place again for months, you are smart detective.”

Henry Richards tried to sound calm though he did not feel it, this was a big fucking guy. He was sitting at the end of the bed with his right shoulder almost facing the big man. In his left hand he was holding a chrome Smith & Wesson .40 caliber, it was the big model that held 19 rounds. He staggered his, he always kept one in the pipe, and it would be the highest grain Hydra-Shok round his police ID would let him purchase. That was staggered with the highest grain, golden saber rounds. This is why he carried his gun loaded in this fashion and get ready for some former police, FBI, and avid gun owner, just for their precision.

Unlike how it is portrayed in the movies, the average gun battle, and this is if you exclude assault type rifles and are talking pistols takes place at a range from 3 – 5 feet. Intuitively, that would seem like it should be further but those were the stats forever and I doubt they have changed. Next, why the Hydra-Sho

k as round #1. In a close-up gun battle the person that knocks the other off their feet first win over 90% of the gun battles. That is what that ammunition is designed to do, so he loaded by academy training. This was usually when everyone was whipping their Glocks out, and Henry loved them, but the Smith & Wesson was his. He thought he would see where reason might get him. He had left two people alive now, and he was a sick man.

“You know Mr. Miller, no you won’t, and allow me to tell you why?”

Mr. X said, “By all means.”

“You could not have come back here in a few months Mr. Miller because it is highly likely you will be dead by then. I know all about the cancer, I know you are not well, please let me take you in. I came down here by myself, because most of the guys on SWAT, and many others don’t even consider you worth a round. Or everyone would be buying rounds for whichever one of them capped you. You have a brain tumor sir; it is causing you to do unspeakable things to people. You Vincent Miller are under arrest…….” And he began to read him his rights,

Mr. X stood and considered; it was all just a matter of how you wanted to go out. There was an older fantasy/sci-fi movie back some time ago, it had Christopher Lambert and Sean Connery in it. It was called the Highlander,” which was reputedly written by some grad student at MIT, just as a class paper for creative writing. After a little consideration, Mr. X was in total agreement with a line out of that movie, which can also be heard on the soundtrack of the movie, done by Queen. It was good stuff, but the antagonist in the movie, cuts lose with the sentiment; “It’s better to burn out than to fade away.” That is what he was thinking as he opened the cabinet and quickly pulled the, special edition Benelli chrome plated, .12 gauge, semi-automatic, assault shotgun and whipped it towards the detective.

Henry was surprised at how fast a big guy like that could move, and he did not trust one or two pops of his .40 would be enough from him taking whatever that shotgun was firing. The detective played to his strengths, and he was faster than the big man and stood up and crossed into the kitchen out of his line of fire. He knew what was coming next, so he hunched down behind a sturdy looking island, right on time, from where he had been, Mr. X fired through the wall trying to get lucky, three times. He did not but the kitchen sure was a mess. Henry did not have enough time to get a good look at the model, but most held either 7 or 9 standard shotgun shells. Big Man was now down 3, so time to be nifty and take some good shots. He set up at island and sited in on the doorway. ‘Come on big man.’

As the detective stayed steadily, and he did have his finger on the trigger and the safety disengaged. Behind him were two glass style doors that led out to a patio. He could not see, but Mr. X was coming steadily around trying to get a better shot at him through the door. The big man, taking up all that space, passed between the sun and the kitchen and Henry saw the shadow. He dove over the island as the glass door behind him disintegrated into a barrage of flying glass and Double-ought-buck, .12-gauge pellets. The detective was saved but decided he better back him off some.  He popped up and capped of four rounds in the general direction the shotgun blasts had come from. This took a second, those hydra-shocks were hot, and it took a second to resight after firing one of those out the back door. He took cover again; he had no way of knowing if he had hit.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself, ‘this is what we get paid the big bucks for.’ He came up from beside the island low and moving fast with his pistol pointing in front of him. Lying on the concrete out beside the pool was Mr. X, a.k.a. Vincent Miller. Judging the distance, the shotgun was from him, he must have pegged him with a hydra-shock, and it had hit the big man hard. He got on his cell and called for ambulance services and finally backup.

For many of the victims’ families were somewhat disappointed that Mr. X had been apprehended, and not just done away with. He was currently being held at the criminally insane ward at the local state hospital. It was now about a week later, and Henry and his husband Harold had invited Conner over for dinner. They sat and had a good time; Harold was a chef, and he could make shoe leather taste good. So, they ate and had a few drinks. It was getting close to bed:30 and Conner would be in the spare bedroom here. He had had one too many to be driving, he was safe here, this house was vanilla flavored. His cellphone rang and that was never good.

He stepped into the kitchen and took the call and was gone for a few minutes, he came back in the room still talking, said, “I see, get on that immediately.” And hung up and sank back down into the couch.

He was looking off into the distance and finally his husband brought him back down to earth by touching his knee.

He came too and said looking at Conner Lewis. “I have some bad and from what I am being told weird news, don’t worry you are here, and you will be safe. Vincent Miller, strangled a nurse with a piece of IV tubing, broke an orderly’s neck and somehow managed to evade all the security that building has and has escaped. The oddest thing, Dr. Carson, his oncologist says his cancer is improving all over his body and they have not explanation for it. You guys can hit the bed, I have some work to do.”

 

The End

(Do not be surprised to see some of these characters again.)