Murder fic, Chapter 1/?
Jul. 2nd, 2007 09:37 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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wl_fanfictionShine on You Crazy Diamond
By: PD
Pairing: for this chapter - spurned Jeff/Chip, Chip/f
Rating: R for gore, language and implied sex
Disclaimer: Don’t own, so don’t sue.
Summary: There’s a serial killer on the loose…
Chapter 1: Please remember
The medium sized lot set aside for the show Whose Line is it Anyway? was devoid of people, empty cars parked everywhere and the cicadas buzzing away cheerfully in the horrid LA heat. Overall the effect was one of a typical lazy summer day. Inside, however, was another matter altogether.
“Okay ladies and gentlemen, that’s a wrap!” Dan Patterson shouted. The performers looked up curiously, sharing glances with quirked eyebrows.
“Dan, what’s going on?” Drew asked above the groans from the audience, “We’re not even half way through tonight’s scheduled taping.”
“I know, I know and I’m really upset about this too, but something’s come up and we all need to meet in the conference room,” he said through his teeth, smile plastered on his face.
Drew nodded cautiously but ushered the other performers out of the studio and into the huge conference room. Ryan and Colin shared a worried glance, Wayne fidgeted and Greg looked as if the whole thing were too boring for words. As usual.
The inside of the huge room was rarely, if ever used. It was actually the entire third story divided up into a dozen smaller rooms centered around the once impressive conference room. Dust lay thickly inside some of the rooms they passed on their way to the main room, and they passed by many old and musty smelling props from the previous years. They took their chairs, except for Ryan, who paced between Drew and Colin.
Wayne gnawed nervously on his nail. “So…what do you think this is about?” he asked. Drew shrugged. “I mean…they aren’t firing any of us…are they?”
“They shouldn’t be, they haven’t run anything by me or Drew,” Ryan rumbled, wearing a hole in the already thin rug. Dan came through the door accompanied by his assistant, Mark. “Dan, what’s going on buddy?” he asked, anger simmering in every word.
“Well, as you know already, Mike McShane was murdered almost a month ago,” he said hesitantly. They all nodded grimly. They’d read the newspapers of his grisly demise, sent sympathy cards to his family. “As well as Josie and John.”
“I thought that Josie and John were both accidents,” Colin said in the sudden silence.
Dan frowned at the recently cleaned tabletop. “Well, I’ve been in contact with Scotland Yard, and they think that Josie’s car was sabotaged.” A hiss went through the room, “and John’s autopsy reports have finally been released. He was poisoned,” Dan said unhappily, his lower lip trembling.
Ryan sat down heavily between Drew and Colin, Greg’s hard-case shell slipped away with a soft curse and Colin buried his face in his hands.
Mark patted Dan on the shoulder and he nodded a little rapidly. “Now…” he paused, clearing his throat, “I know that this may come as a bit of a shock to you, as some of you knew them quite well, having worked with them in the past,” he smiled slightly, a small tear rolling down his cheek.
The comedians pretended not to notice as he swiped it away hurriedly. “We’ll be having a small memorial service for them next week, and have a small dedication service during two sessions.”
Drew spoke up quietly, feeling like an asshole. “But, a memorial service on a comedy show? Won’t that ruin the mood?” his voice got progressively quieter as the men turned to glare at him fiercely.
Wayne came to his defense. “Yeah, they helped make this show, I don’t think even they would want it brought down.”
“Perhaps you’re right, but to not mention them at all would be blasphemy, for as you said, they helped create the show,” Mark said.
“Maybe an ‘in loving memory of’ after the show right before credits role?” Ryan ventured.
‘Yeah, that’ll work…” Dan said, looking to Mark, who agreed. “Now that we’ve decided on that I feel I should warn you gentlemen to be extra careful until this maniac has been caught. We don’t know if they’ve come across the pond, but we do know they’ve targeted a specific group. The Whosers,” he said with grim finality.
Greg, who’d been silent for the whole thing, piped up, “Boy, aren’t you a slice of confidence and cheer?” he quipped though even he looked a little worried.
“I don’t think you can afford false bravado. Be careful…all of you,” Dan said gravely before following Mark down the stairs.
The room was silent until Drew broke it, “Well, I think I’m going to go home and beef up my security system, who’s with me?” He said brightly. Ryan and Colin nodded, rising to follow.
Greg rose and stretched, offering Wayne an arm. “C’mon, two by two for extra safety,” he said with a grin.
Wayne took his arm but didn’t smile, “You think the killer will be caught before he comes over here and starts hunting us?”
Greg shrugged, trudging down the old stairs with his car keys already in hand. “I dunno, but I do know that I’m hiring a body guard, maybe one of those cute male ones.”
“Oh yeah. The ones that are all like, ‘look, but don’t touch-’ ” Wayne’s voiced faded from the conference room, leaving a dull silence that settled in the room like a malevolent haze.
A mouse stirred, coming forth from its hiding place to sniff about, pausing at a possible treat. The sharp snick of the mousetrap echoed throughout the room. Softly, padding feet came up the stairs. The figure, dressed in janitorial grays, looked over at the dead mouse and its widening pool of blood and excrement and scowled.
Another mess to clean up.
The hat was pulled low to obscure the individual’s features, save for two brilliant gray eyes. The bulky jumpsuit further rendered the figure unidentifiable. The figure looked around the room and inhaled deeply, touching each chair the men had sat in reverently before digging sharp nails into the rotting fabric, cotton ticking spilling out like fuzzy blood. Looking back at the dead mouse, the figure picked it up gently, taking off the trap while singing gently to it. The carcass was wiped off with a dirty rag, rolled up in tissue paper and pocketed. Still singing softly, he began cleaning,
“I read the news today, oh boy
About a lucky man who made the grade
He blew his mind out in a car
He didn’t notice that the lights had changed…
Lips curled into a cruel smile and the lump in his pocket was patted affectionately, “They won’t notice either.” This was going to be fun.
----
“Ryan I don’t like this at all,” Colin said unhappily over the phone, shutting his blinds. All of the lights were on in his small house. It wasn’t really small but he used it when he was here in LA for Whose Line? He also used it when Ryan came to visit to get away from his own empty house.
Ryan’s deep baritone came floating over the phone line, soothing his jittery nerves. “None of us do, but for now we’re gonna have to live with it. Besides you have that new security system, right?”
“Yeah,” Colin nodded, studying the formidable looking panel that watched all doors and windows like an electronic rottweiler. It even growled when he opened a door before remembering to disarm it. “Yeah, it was the last thing I ever let Deb talk me into. I’m kinda glad now,” he said with a reluctant grin.
Ryan snorted over the phone. “Maybe you should send her a thank you card.”
“No, I think that’d be asking for trouble.” Colin said sternly. Ryan knew perfectly well that he and Deb had split a while back, but he couldn’t seem to resist teasing every now and then. Colin couldn’t figure out why, though. It was just probably Ryan being, well… Ryan, but Colin couldn’t shake the feeling that Ryan was waiting for something. Maybe for Colin to get up off his ass and see someone else.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Ryan sighed, jerking Colin’s attention back. “Just be safe okay?” he said, a faint plea in his voice. Colin blinked, touched by how much his friend cared. He was about to answer back when the doorbell rang. He jumped so hard the phone went skittering to the floor. Colin fumbled, picking it back up to hear Ryan shouting, “Are you okay? Col! You alright?!”
“Yeah, I’m fine, the doorbell rang is all,” he said, swallowing his thudding heart and feeling very foolish.
Ryan paused on the other end of the line. “Col, it’s almost 10 o’clock,” he said flatly.
“I know, I know, I’ll be careful,” he said loudly as he approached the door, letting whomever was on the other side know he wasn’t completely alone. He opened the door to a figure of middle height with darkish curls gracing the broad shoulders. The figure turned, revealing a face almost too pretty to be male. Colin stared for a moment.
“Colin!” Ryan shouted, jerking Colin from his reverie.
“What? Yeah, sorry, don’t worry Ry, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Yes, I know you’re nearby, no I don’t want anything. Goodnight Ry, see you tomorrow,” Colin said hurriedly into the phone before clicking it off with an apologetic glance at the person standing in his doorway. “Hello, sorry about that, can I help you?” he asked.
The figure ducked its head in a graceful shrug, a smile painting its lips. “It’s okay, I picked a bad time anyway, but I felt I had to come over to meet you before I missed you again.” He (she?) said nervously, extending a slender hand to shake Colin’s. The grasp was firm and cool, but like almost everything else about this person, it could have belonged to either sex. The voice was rich and throaty, complementing the persons blue-gray eyes and full lower lip.
Colin blushed noticing the figure was waiting for a reply. “Sorry what?” he asked.
“I was saying that I’m your new neighbor, just down the street,” it said, pointing down the street.
Colin nodded. “I didn’t even know they sold! It’s nice to meet you, when did you move in?” he asked, allowing the stranger into his house.
“Oh, about a week ago from Liverpool.”
“England?”
“No, well, from England, to Tennessee to here,” he said with a smile. “Nice setup you have here!” he said, looking earnestly about the place. He looked over and noticed Colin staring at him again. “Yes?”
“Ah! Sorry, how rude,” Colin blushed, apologizing hurriedly, but the person raised a hand with a quiet smile.
“It’s okay, I get it all the time. I’m a fraternal twin, one of the ones where I shared more estrogen with my sister than was good for my manliness. You can call me Abe,” he said, offering his hand again. Colin blinked at him.
“Wow…”he said, then chuckled. “That’s a first for me.”
“I feel so unique,” Abe said, shrugging happily. “It was great meeting you Colin,” he said, moving towards the door. Colin opened it for him, “I hope to see you again soon,” he said with a quiet smile.
Colin leaned against the doorframe watching Abe walk down the driveway, a feminine grace evident it his walk. “Hey how did you know my name?” Colin asked, wondering if he should bother even asking since his new found fame was through the roof.
“From Whose Line? duh!” Abe called with a laugh. Colin chuckled, nodding with a wave and shutting the door. He leaned against it with a sigh. If that man’s sister was half as attractive as he was…Colin didn’t finish the thought, opting instead to shut off all the lights he’d turned on and curling into bed half an hour later.
What a nice man.
----
“And this is the den,” Chip said, leading the beautiful young woman into the dimly lit penthouse suit. She looked around before turning to him with a smoldering gaze. Chip rubbed her arms and pulled her close for another battle of tongues. She intrigued him when he’d first seen her at the bar, she’d intrigued him in the bathroom, and she still intrigued him here.
How bizarre for someone he’d just met. Even his wife didn’t look at him like that. He snuck a hand up her dress, making her shudder as he jerked the panties away. They came away so easily, it almost disappointed him.
Like Jeff had.
Why did the little prick have to turn out to be a fag, then pull something even more disgusting out of his hat and say he was in love with Chip? The phone rang while he was in the middle of pulling down his pants. He grumbled, turning from the impatient woman in front of him and kicked off his pants, walking over in his boxers to pick up the phone. “Chip, honey?” Shit. The wife.
“Yeah sweety, what’s up?” he asked. Behind him the woman went still.
“I just got a call from Ryan, he said that you guys had been dismissed early. Why didn’t you call me?” she asked, voice grating on his ear.
“Sorry, I forgot. It was only so he could go off with his girlfriend I’m sure, the rascal.” Chip even grinned at the buzzing phone, as bright as a 1000-watt light bulb and just about as sincere.
“Okay,” she said doubtfully, “well he wanted me to tell you to look out for anything suspicious, apparently the regulars have a maniac stalker going around in London that the police still haven’t caught.” Chip sighed impatiently. The bitch was making him lose his hard on. “I know that you’re one of the better ones they have on, so just be careful. By the way, where are you?” she asked, voice hesitant.
“In my hotel, don’t worry it’s so incredibly secure I wouldn’t be surprised if the alarm was tripped by a hamster.”
“Okay, if you say so-”
“I’ll call you later, ‘kay?”
“Okay-”
“By honey, love you!” he called, already moving to hang up the receiver. On the opposite end of the nation, Chip’s wife hung up the phone, tears trailing down her face. ‘Another one,’ she thought.
Chip turned, removing his shirt with a flourish to face the woman who was sitting delicately on the back of the couch. She handed him a glass of champagne, which he accepted gratefully and downed in one swallow. It tasted bright and fresh, with a smaller flavor of something else. He moved in to kiss her but she stopped him with a hand on his chest.
“That was your wife, right?” she asked.
He nodded, looking vaguely depressed. “Yeah, we’re going through a painful divorce, she keeps calling up to argue, I’m sorry my head’s all messed up from it,” he said, lying through his teeth. Actually, his head was feeling a little messed up. He looked at her, and her eyes seemed to dominate his vision. He thought they were blue when he’d first met her, but now they seemed black.
He staggered to lean against the small table, knocking the phone to the floor. He stooped to pick it up, because it seemed like the thing to do at the time until the floor rushed up to greet him. He noticed vaguely from his place on the floor that everything was fuzzy. Why?
“You know, at first,” she said, slipping the dress off and putting it on the chair at the other side of the room, along with her shoes. She grabbed his wrists and dragged him into the bedroom, “I thought this was just going to be another notch on my lipstick case, but I think now it’s going to be a real treat to add you to my collection,” she said mildly. Chip felt the world slip behind a haze, making everything move slower. His arms wouldn’t work.
“Why aren’t my arms working?” he slurred. She left the room, and distantly he heard clinking. When she returned to his vision she had a bunch of bright, shiny, metal things. He tried to ask what they were, but his mouth seemed to be filled with cotton. She looked down at him.
“I’ll bet your starting to get curious,” she said, sounding like a mother getting ready to tell her son about the birds and the bees, “You can’t talk, or move, hell even scream, because of a special blend of drugs I’ve given you. Sorry ‘bout the dizziness, that was just all the drink you had, you alcoholic,” she said happily. She stripped off his boxers and his erection sprang free, a little wilted from the fear that was spreading through his veins. She caressed him, bringing him back to full mast.
Her eyes were flat and black, empty as the two holes of a double barrel shotgun right before they shot you. “Chip, I want you to feel good about yourself now. You are about to join some very special people, though you don’t really deserve it.” She picked up a long steak knife she’d taken from the kitchen, studying it, hefting its balance and, finding it adequate, placed the tip right against his breastbone. A bead of blood jumped out and started traveling up to his collarbone slowly, a surprise of scarlet. She preferred paler skin, the blood stood out better. “Had you ever met Mike McShane?” she asked mildly, drawing it slowly down to his stomach. Chip felt like his head would explode from the pain, “No? How about Josie Lawrence?” she asked, the knife grating against his pubic bone. Tears flood his eyes, and his screams began to choke him when she cut perpendicular to the long slice across his abdomen and at the top of his chest like a frog getting dissected. “No to her, too?” she asked incredulously. She shook the bloody knife at him, sprinkling drops on his face. “Now that is a pity. And now, the biggest name of all,” she whispered. Her face loomed in his field of vision, which was turning slowly red, and he feared that name. “Did you know John Sessions?” she asked, her face splitting in a rictus grin. His eyes were bright with fear and pain, giving her her answer. She gripped the edges of the big cut she’d made down his middle, hands gripping them harder to purchase a grip through the slickness of the blood. “Now, that is truly a crime,” she said with a sigh.
Then she pulled.
Hard.
Chip’s last thought was not of how it didn’t hurt anymore, or of the wife that he was leaving behind, hell it wasn’t even of himself for a change. It was of Jeff. He wished he could have said he was sorry.
-----
Ryan swished his drink around, watching flickering images of the television screen. Everyone had been alerted; everyone was wary and aware of the danger. He’d done his job of calling everyone. Brad had been sarcastic, Greg had been mildly grateful, and Jeff had just sniffed and meekly agreed to be careful.
Poor kid. It wasn’t easy coming out of the closet, though Ryan didn’t know personally, but coming out to Chip with a declaration of love was like having your heart handed to you on a kabob skewer. The only one he hadn’t reached had been Chip. Thank heavens for his wife, though. Another in a long list of people who knew Chip that Ryan felt sorry for.
Ryan turned and spat into the sink before returning to the stew that was bubbling cheerfully on the stove. He grabbed his beer and glanced at the clock. Nine forty. Damn that man, where was he? A knock on his door sounded, and he hurried over to it, checking the peephole before admitting Drew. “Hey man how’s it going?” Drew asked, hefting a six pack and giving Ryan a brief one-armed hug.
Ryan returned it and shut the door, locking the dead bolt. “I’m great, but it’s late and if we want to drink all of that as well as watch the movie you’re staying here tonight,” Ryan said. Drew put his hands on his hips.
“Well, if you wanted some company that desperately I’d have put on something sexy for you!” he lisped. Ryan smacked his shoulder making his way back into the kitchen. “Ow!” Drew hissed but followed. They both took a beer before Drew spoke up. “So did you get a hold of everyone?”
“Yeah, except for Chip, I had his wife promise to give him the message.” Ryan grumbled, glaring at the stew. It blurped happily at him.
Drew shuddered. “I don’t know why we keep him on,” he said.
Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know. But one of these days you and I are going to sit down and talk to Dan, hopefully we can get him to see sense!” he said hopefully, rising to stir the pot.
Drew snorted. “Or if that fails, we can hire someone to kill him!” he said brightly. Ryan turned to give him the eye. Drew shrank.
“Current circumstances being what they are, let’s ignore that joke,” Ryan said.
“Okay, sorry.”
Ryan brushed it away with a wave of his hands, “So what movie do we have tonight?”
Drew brightened up and reached over to the plastic bag he’d brought along, “We’ve got a lovely selection that I thought were nicely appropriate, considering both the apparent murderous stalker and your bachelorhood.” He held up two movies with incredibly disproportionate looking females on them. “This one is ‘Hannibals Nectar’ and this one is ‘Nympho’ starring an incredibly talented Jamie Lee Curtis look-a-like, Sophie Majesty!” he said happily.
Ryan groaned and rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his beer. Then he frowned. “Jamie Lee Curtis was in that other movie Halloween, not Psycho,” he said.
Drew stared at him. “So?” Ryan sighed and shrugged as Drew went into the other room to put in a movie. Ryan sniffed and wondered idly what Colin was doing now. Probably sleeping, the lucky bastard. Ryan wished he was there, too, then hastily amended that he just wanted away from Drew’s cheesy porno’s. He smirked, dishing out the stew and joining his friend on the couch. That’s what I get for inviting him over on a Friday night after a dateless week.
“Aw, do we have to watch it while we’re eating?” Ryan demanded from the other room.
----
The woman sat, perched delicately on the edge of the bed. She walked into the bathroom, daintily stepping from one bloody footprint to the other like a child playing hopscotch. She stepped into the shower stall and turned it on high. The water was a deep red, swirling down the drain as she scrubbed. Flakes of dried blood and thicker things came off and plopped onto the floor. She finished rinsing her hair and looked down at the raw ruin of a man sharing the stall with her.
Chip, or what was left of him, had been flayed neatly, the only skin left intact was his hands and feet. The rest was hanging over the stall door, drying from its rinse. Chip watched her rinse his blood off; he had no choice now, eyelids having been cut off long ago.
“Aw, why for you look at me like that? You had it coming you know, being such an all around bastard. You really weren’t as good as John or Josie or Mike. John, with a mean mouth, Josie always treading over everyone, and Mike…” she smiled secretly and crouched down to bring her eyes level with Chip’s. “Well, I just had to have such a sweet man. I love it when they’re good people. People like you?” she said, pouting a little. She caressed the naked muscle of his chest, moving down to the cavity in his middle that used to be full. “You’re just foreplay, except for that lovely trophy you’ve given me. That I’ll keep. Too bad it’s so little now!” she giggled.
Chip smiled back. He had, after all, no choice, his face a distant memory.
By: PD
Pairing: for this chapter - spurned Jeff/Chip, Chip/f
Rating: R for gore, language and implied sex
Disclaimer: Don’t own, so don’t sue.
Summary: There’s a serial killer on the loose…
Chapter 1: Please remember
The medium sized lot set aside for the show Whose Line is it Anyway? was devoid of people, empty cars parked everywhere and the cicadas buzzing away cheerfully in the horrid LA heat. Overall the effect was one of a typical lazy summer day. Inside, however, was another matter altogether.
“Okay ladies and gentlemen, that’s a wrap!” Dan Patterson shouted. The performers looked up curiously, sharing glances with quirked eyebrows.
“Dan, what’s going on?” Drew asked above the groans from the audience, “We’re not even half way through tonight’s scheduled taping.”
“I know, I know and I’m really upset about this too, but something’s come up and we all need to meet in the conference room,” he said through his teeth, smile plastered on his face.
Drew nodded cautiously but ushered the other performers out of the studio and into the huge conference room. Ryan and Colin shared a worried glance, Wayne fidgeted and Greg looked as if the whole thing were too boring for words. As usual.
The inside of the huge room was rarely, if ever used. It was actually the entire third story divided up into a dozen smaller rooms centered around the once impressive conference room. Dust lay thickly inside some of the rooms they passed on their way to the main room, and they passed by many old and musty smelling props from the previous years. They took their chairs, except for Ryan, who paced between Drew and Colin.
Wayne gnawed nervously on his nail. “So…what do you think this is about?” he asked. Drew shrugged. “I mean…they aren’t firing any of us…are they?”
“They shouldn’t be, they haven’t run anything by me or Drew,” Ryan rumbled, wearing a hole in the already thin rug. Dan came through the door accompanied by his assistant, Mark. “Dan, what’s going on buddy?” he asked, anger simmering in every word.
“Well, as you know already, Mike McShane was murdered almost a month ago,” he said hesitantly. They all nodded grimly. They’d read the newspapers of his grisly demise, sent sympathy cards to his family. “As well as Josie and John.”
“I thought that Josie and John were both accidents,” Colin said in the sudden silence.
Dan frowned at the recently cleaned tabletop. “Well, I’ve been in contact with Scotland Yard, and they think that Josie’s car was sabotaged.” A hiss went through the room, “and John’s autopsy reports have finally been released. He was poisoned,” Dan said unhappily, his lower lip trembling.
Ryan sat down heavily between Drew and Colin, Greg’s hard-case shell slipped away with a soft curse and Colin buried his face in his hands.
Mark patted Dan on the shoulder and he nodded a little rapidly. “Now…” he paused, clearing his throat, “I know that this may come as a bit of a shock to you, as some of you knew them quite well, having worked with them in the past,” he smiled slightly, a small tear rolling down his cheek.
The comedians pretended not to notice as he swiped it away hurriedly. “We’ll be having a small memorial service for them next week, and have a small dedication service during two sessions.”
Drew spoke up quietly, feeling like an asshole. “But, a memorial service on a comedy show? Won’t that ruin the mood?” his voice got progressively quieter as the men turned to glare at him fiercely.
Wayne came to his defense. “Yeah, they helped make this show, I don’t think even they would want it brought down.”
“Perhaps you’re right, but to not mention them at all would be blasphemy, for as you said, they helped create the show,” Mark said.
“Maybe an ‘in loving memory of’ after the show right before credits role?” Ryan ventured.
‘Yeah, that’ll work…” Dan said, looking to Mark, who agreed. “Now that we’ve decided on that I feel I should warn you gentlemen to be extra careful until this maniac has been caught. We don’t know if they’ve come across the pond, but we do know they’ve targeted a specific group. The Whosers,” he said with grim finality.
Greg, who’d been silent for the whole thing, piped up, “Boy, aren’t you a slice of confidence and cheer?” he quipped though even he looked a little worried.
“I don’t think you can afford false bravado. Be careful…all of you,” Dan said gravely before following Mark down the stairs.
The room was silent until Drew broke it, “Well, I think I’m going to go home and beef up my security system, who’s with me?” He said brightly. Ryan and Colin nodded, rising to follow.
Greg rose and stretched, offering Wayne an arm. “C’mon, two by two for extra safety,” he said with a grin.
Wayne took his arm but didn’t smile, “You think the killer will be caught before he comes over here and starts hunting us?”
Greg shrugged, trudging down the old stairs with his car keys already in hand. “I dunno, but I do know that I’m hiring a body guard, maybe one of those cute male ones.”
“Oh yeah. The ones that are all like, ‘look, but don’t touch-’ ” Wayne’s voiced faded from the conference room, leaving a dull silence that settled in the room like a malevolent haze.
A mouse stirred, coming forth from its hiding place to sniff about, pausing at a possible treat. The sharp snick of the mousetrap echoed throughout the room. Softly, padding feet came up the stairs. The figure, dressed in janitorial grays, looked over at the dead mouse and its widening pool of blood and excrement and scowled.
Another mess to clean up.
The hat was pulled low to obscure the individual’s features, save for two brilliant gray eyes. The bulky jumpsuit further rendered the figure unidentifiable. The figure looked around the room and inhaled deeply, touching each chair the men had sat in reverently before digging sharp nails into the rotting fabric, cotton ticking spilling out like fuzzy blood. Looking back at the dead mouse, the figure picked it up gently, taking off the trap while singing gently to it. The carcass was wiped off with a dirty rag, rolled up in tissue paper and pocketed. Still singing softly, he began cleaning,
“I read the news today, oh boy
About a lucky man who made the grade
He blew his mind out in a car
He didn’t notice that the lights had changed…
Lips curled into a cruel smile and the lump in his pocket was patted affectionately, “They won’t notice either.” This was going to be fun.
----
“Ryan I don’t like this at all,” Colin said unhappily over the phone, shutting his blinds. All of the lights were on in his small house. It wasn’t really small but he used it when he was here in LA for Whose Line? He also used it when Ryan came to visit to get away from his own empty house.
Ryan’s deep baritone came floating over the phone line, soothing his jittery nerves. “None of us do, but for now we’re gonna have to live with it. Besides you have that new security system, right?”
“Yeah,” Colin nodded, studying the formidable looking panel that watched all doors and windows like an electronic rottweiler. It even growled when he opened a door before remembering to disarm it. “Yeah, it was the last thing I ever let Deb talk me into. I’m kinda glad now,” he said with a reluctant grin.
Ryan snorted over the phone. “Maybe you should send her a thank you card.”
“No, I think that’d be asking for trouble.” Colin said sternly. Ryan knew perfectly well that he and Deb had split a while back, but he couldn’t seem to resist teasing every now and then. Colin couldn’t figure out why, though. It was just probably Ryan being, well… Ryan, but Colin couldn’t shake the feeling that Ryan was waiting for something. Maybe for Colin to get up off his ass and see someone else.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Ryan sighed, jerking Colin’s attention back. “Just be safe okay?” he said, a faint plea in his voice. Colin blinked, touched by how much his friend cared. He was about to answer back when the doorbell rang. He jumped so hard the phone went skittering to the floor. Colin fumbled, picking it back up to hear Ryan shouting, “Are you okay? Col! You alright?!”
“Yeah, I’m fine, the doorbell rang is all,” he said, swallowing his thudding heart and feeling very foolish.
Ryan paused on the other end of the line. “Col, it’s almost 10 o’clock,” he said flatly.
“I know, I know, I’ll be careful,” he said loudly as he approached the door, letting whomever was on the other side know he wasn’t completely alone. He opened the door to a figure of middle height with darkish curls gracing the broad shoulders. The figure turned, revealing a face almost too pretty to be male. Colin stared for a moment.
“Colin!” Ryan shouted, jerking Colin from his reverie.
“What? Yeah, sorry, don’t worry Ry, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Yes, I know you’re nearby, no I don’t want anything. Goodnight Ry, see you tomorrow,” Colin said hurriedly into the phone before clicking it off with an apologetic glance at the person standing in his doorway. “Hello, sorry about that, can I help you?” he asked.
The figure ducked its head in a graceful shrug, a smile painting its lips. “It’s okay, I picked a bad time anyway, but I felt I had to come over to meet you before I missed you again.” He (she?) said nervously, extending a slender hand to shake Colin’s. The grasp was firm and cool, but like almost everything else about this person, it could have belonged to either sex. The voice was rich and throaty, complementing the persons blue-gray eyes and full lower lip.
Colin blushed noticing the figure was waiting for a reply. “Sorry what?” he asked.
“I was saying that I’m your new neighbor, just down the street,” it said, pointing down the street.
Colin nodded. “I didn’t even know they sold! It’s nice to meet you, when did you move in?” he asked, allowing the stranger into his house.
“Oh, about a week ago from Liverpool.”
“England?”
“No, well, from England, to Tennessee to here,” he said with a smile. “Nice setup you have here!” he said, looking earnestly about the place. He looked over and noticed Colin staring at him again. “Yes?”
“Ah! Sorry, how rude,” Colin blushed, apologizing hurriedly, but the person raised a hand with a quiet smile.
“It’s okay, I get it all the time. I’m a fraternal twin, one of the ones where I shared more estrogen with my sister than was good for my manliness. You can call me Abe,” he said, offering his hand again. Colin blinked at him.
“Wow…”he said, then chuckled. “That’s a first for me.”
“I feel so unique,” Abe said, shrugging happily. “It was great meeting you Colin,” he said, moving towards the door. Colin opened it for him, “I hope to see you again soon,” he said with a quiet smile.
Colin leaned against the doorframe watching Abe walk down the driveway, a feminine grace evident it his walk. “Hey how did you know my name?” Colin asked, wondering if he should bother even asking since his new found fame was through the roof.
“From Whose Line? duh!” Abe called with a laugh. Colin chuckled, nodding with a wave and shutting the door. He leaned against it with a sigh. If that man’s sister was half as attractive as he was…Colin didn’t finish the thought, opting instead to shut off all the lights he’d turned on and curling into bed half an hour later.
What a nice man.
----
“And this is the den,” Chip said, leading the beautiful young woman into the dimly lit penthouse suit. She looked around before turning to him with a smoldering gaze. Chip rubbed her arms and pulled her close for another battle of tongues. She intrigued him when he’d first seen her at the bar, she’d intrigued him in the bathroom, and she still intrigued him here.
How bizarre for someone he’d just met. Even his wife didn’t look at him like that. He snuck a hand up her dress, making her shudder as he jerked the panties away. They came away so easily, it almost disappointed him.
Like Jeff had.
Why did the little prick have to turn out to be a fag, then pull something even more disgusting out of his hat and say he was in love with Chip? The phone rang while he was in the middle of pulling down his pants. He grumbled, turning from the impatient woman in front of him and kicked off his pants, walking over in his boxers to pick up the phone. “Chip, honey?” Shit. The wife.
“Yeah sweety, what’s up?” he asked. Behind him the woman went still.
“I just got a call from Ryan, he said that you guys had been dismissed early. Why didn’t you call me?” she asked, voice grating on his ear.
“Sorry, I forgot. It was only so he could go off with his girlfriend I’m sure, the rascal.” Chip even grinned at the buzzing phone, as bright as a 1000-watt light bulb and just about as sincere.
“Okay,” she said doubtfully, “well he wanted me to tell you to look out for anything suspicious, apparently the regulars have a maniac stalker going around in London that the police still haven’t caught.” Chip sighed impatiently. The bitch was making him lose his hard on. “I know that you’re one of the better ones they have on, so just be careful. By the way, where are you?” she asked, voice hesitant.
“In my hotel, don’t worry it’s so incredibly secure I wouldn’t be surprised if the alarm was tripped by a hamster.”
“Okay, if you say so-”
“I’ll call you later, ‘kay?”
“Okay-”
“By honey, love you!” he called, already moving to hang up the receiver. On the opposite end of the nation, Chip’s wife hung up the phone, tears trailing down her face. ‘Another one,’ she thought.
Chip turned, removing his shirt with a flourish to face the woman who was sitting delicately on the back of the couch. She handed him a glass of champagne, which he accepted gratefully and downed in one swallow. It tasted bright and fresh, with a smaller flavor of something else. He moved in to kiss her but she stopped him with a hand on his chest.
“That was your wife, right?” she asked.
He nodded, looking vaguely depressed. “Yeah, we’re going through a painful divorce, she keeps calling up to argue, I’m sorry my head’s all messed up from it,” he said, lying through his teeth. Actually, his head was feeling a little messed up. He looked at her, and her eyes seemed to dominate his vision. He thought they were blue when he’d first met her, but now they seemed black.
He staggered to lean against the small table, knocking the phone to the floor. He stooped to pick it up, because it seemed like the thing to do at the time until the floor rushed up to greet him. He noticed vaguely from his place on the floor that everything was fuzzy. Why?
“You know, at first,” she said, slipping the dress off and putting it on the chair at the other side of the room, along with her shoes. She grabbed his wrists and dragged him into the bedroom, “I thought this was just going to be another notch on my lipstick case, but I think now it’s going to be a real treat to add you to my collection,” she said mildly. Chip felt the world slip behind a haze, making everything move slower. His arms wouldn’t work.
“Why aren’t my arms working?” he slurred. She left the room, and distantly he heard clinking. When she returned to his vision she had a bunch of bright, shiny, metal things. He tried to ask what they were, but his mouth seemed to be filled with cotton. She looked down at him.
“I’ll bet your starting to get curious,” she said, sounding like a mother getting ready to tell her son about the birds and the bees, “You can’t talk, or move, hell even scream, because of a special blend of drugs I’ve given you. Sorry ‘bout the dizziness, that was just all the drink you had, you alcoholic,” she said happily. She stripped off his boxers and his erection sprang free, a little wilted from the fear that was spreading through his veins. She caressed him, bringing him back to full mast.
Her eyes were flat and black, empty as the two holes of a double barrel shotgun right before they shot you. “Chip, I want you to feel good about yourself now. You are about to join some very special people, though you don’t really deserve it.” She picked up a long steak knife she’d taken from the kitchen, studying it, hefting its balance and, finding it adequate, placed the tip right against his breastbone. A bead of blood jumped out and started traveling up to his collarbone slowly, a surprise of scarlet. She preferred paler skin, the blood stood out better. “Had you ever met Mike McShane?” she asked mildly, drawing it slowly down to his stomach. Chip felt like his head would explode from the pain, “No? How about Josie Lawrence?” she asked, the knife grating against his pubic bone. Tears flood his eyes, and his screams began to choke him when she cut perpendicular to the long slice across his abdomen and at the top of his chest like a frog getting dissected. “No to her, too?” she asked incredulously. She shook the bloody knife at him, sprinkling drops on his face. “Now that is a pity. And now, the biggest name of all,” she whispered. Her face loomed in his field of vision, which was turning slowly red, and he feared that name. “Did you know John Sessions?” she asked, her face splitting in a rictus grin. His eyes were bright with fear and pain, giving her her answer. She gripped the edges of the big cut she’d made down his middle, hands gripping them harder to purchase a grip through the slickness of the blood. “Now, that is truly a crime,” she said with a sigh.
Then she pulled.
Hard.
Chip’s last thought was not of how it didn’t hurt anymore, or of the wife that he was leaving behind, hell it wasn’t even of himself for a change. It was of Jeff. He wished he could have said he was sorry.
-----
Ryan swished his drink around, watching flickering images of the television screen. Everyone had been alerted; everyone was wary and aware of the danger. He’d done his job of calling everyone. Brad had been sarcastic, Greg had been mildly grateful, and Jeff had just sniffed and meekly agreed to be careful.
Poor kid. It wasn’t easy coming out of the closet, though Ryan didn’t know personally, but coming out to Chip with a declaration of love was like having your heart handed to you on a kabob skewer. The only one he hadn’t reached had been Chip. Thank heavens for his wife, though. Another in a long list of people who knew Chip that Ryan felt sorry for.
Ryan turned and spat into the sink before returning to the stew that was bubbling cheerfully on the stove. He grabbed his beer and glanced at the clock. Nine forty. Damn that man, where was he? A knock on his door sounded, and he hurried over to it, checking the peephole before admitting Drew. “Hey man how’s it going?” Drew asked, hefting a six pack and giving Ryan a brief one-armed hug.
Ryan returned it and shut the door, locking the dead bolt. “I’m great, but it’s late and if we want to drink all of that as well as watch the movie you’re staying here tonight,” Ryan said. Drew put his hands on his hips.
“Well, if you wanted some company that desperately I’d have put on something sexy for you!” he lisped. Ryan smacked his shoulder making his way back into the kitchen. “Ow!” Drew hissed but followed. They both took a beer before Drew spoke up. “So did you get a hold of everyone?”
“Yeah, except for Chip, I had his wife promise to give him the message.” Ryan grumbled, glaring at the stew. It blurped happily at him.
Drew shuddered. “I don’t know why we keep him on,” he said.
Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know. But one of these days you and I are going to sit down and talk to Dan, hopefully we can get him to see sense!” he said hopefully, rising to stir the pot.
Drew snorted. “Or if that fails, we can hire someone to kill him!” he said brightly. Ryan turned to give him the eye. Drew shrank.
“Current circumstances being what they are, let’s ignore that joke,” Ryan said.
“Okay, sorry.”
Ryan brushed it away with a wave of his hands, “So what movie do we have tonight?”
Drew brightened up and reached over to the plastic bag he’d brought along, “We’ve got a lovely selection that I thought were nicely appropriate, considering both the apparent murderous stalker and your bachelorhood.” He held up two movies with incredibly disproportionate looking females on them. “This one is ‘Hannibals Nectar’ and this one is ‘Nympho’ starring an incredibly talented Jamie Lee Curtis look-a-like, Sophie Majesty!” he said happily.
Ryan groaned and rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his beer. Then he frowned. “Jamie Lee Curtis was in that other movie Halloween, not Psycho,” he said.
Drew stared at him. “So?” Ryan sighed and shrugged as Drew went into the other room to put in a movie. Ryan sniffed and wondered idly what Colin was doing now. Probably sleeping, the lucky bastard. Ryan wished he was there, too, then hastily amended that he just wanted away from Drew’s cheesy porno’s. He smirked, dishing out the stew and joining his friend on the couch. That’s what I get for inviting him over on a Friday night after a dateless week.
“Aw, do we have to watch it while we’re eating?” Ryan demanded from the other room.
----
The woman sat, perched delicately on the edge of the bed. She walked into the bathroom, daintily stepping from one bloody footprint to the other like a child playing hopscotch. She stepped into the shower stall and turned it on high. The water was a deep red, swirling down the drain as she scrubbed. Flakes of dried blood and thicker things came off and plopped onto the floor. She finished rinsing her hair and looked down at the raw ruin of a man sharing the stall with her.
Chip, or what was left of him, had been flayed neatly, the only skin left intact was his hands and feet. The rest was hanging over the stall door, drying from its rinse. Chip watched her rinse his blood off; he had no choice now, eyelids having been cut off long ago.
“Aw, why for you look at me like that? You had it coming you know, being such an all around bastard. You really weren’t as good as John or Josie or Mike. John, with a mean mouth, Josie always treading over everyone, and Mike…” she smiled secretly and crouched down to bring her eyes level with Chip’s. “Well, I just had to have such a sweet man. I love it when they’re good people. People like you?” she said, pouting a little. She caressed the naked muscle of his chest, moving down to the cavity in his middle that used to be full. “You’re just foreplay, except for that lovely trophy you’ve given me. That I’ll keep. Too bad it’s so little now!” she giggled.
Chip smiled back. He had, after all, no choice, his face a distant memory.
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no subject
Date: 2007-07-03 05:12 am (UTC)ffs warn me by email if you're gonna bump off Colin or Ryan lol.
Very intense, looking forward to seeing where this goes
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2007-07-03 01:23 pm (UTC)Poor Chip. I don't care how evil he's written, he never deserves to die!
*hugs Brad protectively* He's not gonna die, right? Right? I'll cry!
But honestly, this is SO good, and I can't wait for more.
.x.Sess.x.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2007-07-04 01:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2007-07-04 07:38 am (UTC)Do go on. :D
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2007-07-06 12:56 am (UTC)**shudders***
Powerful writing!
(no subject)
From:OH MAN....
Date: 2007-07-09 08:25 pm (UTC)You have found that special place inside my head woman. I made you a nice comfy bed....stay as long as you like!!!
Your writing is SUPERB!!!! I am blown away!! I don't care what you do to any of them, because you do it sooo masterfully....I LOVE IT!!!
It is INTENSE as Sunny said and I am on the edge of my seat...I need more...so I'm off to chapter two...you better finish this my friend!!
no subject
Date: 2007-07-11 02:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From: