To Trust A Cop

Beta: working on it
Warning: some beating
Notes: I’m happy and relieved to see that there was a fairly good reaction to the last chapter. I’ve been agonising over this last part in the whole story, but it’s been planed for almost two years now and I really don’t want to change anything, so I’ll write it as I’ve planed.

Even though some will probably hate my guts. Anyhow, moving on...

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49

Among the seven crime lords in the organization there was but one the cop marginally trusted. Much because the man was ancient and much like his own grandfather had been. You could trust his words if not his motives.

This old man, Mr. Shansho, lived furthest south of them all. He owned a big mansion, newly build if you compared it to the Almasy estate. The man had a family to fill the house too. Some three sons, four daughters and a small army of grandchildren and grandgrandchildren.

Seifer grew exhausted just imagining haven such a gigantic family. It was far enough with a father and a brother. In fact it was one too many. Seifer drove way too fast up the alley up to the big house. By the entrance was a big round garden meant to make cars circle around it. Seifer did and braked by the big doors so harshly the gravel flew and dust whirled up in the still air.

He was out of the car before a servant managed to open his door, however, the dutiful man closed it for the blond.

“May I park it for you, sir?” he asked while dodging Seifer’s heels.

The cop threw the keys over his shoulder since he suspected he’d be there for a long time. The big doors opened when he took the first steps in the short stair. Another servant and a maid stood there, both bowing and greeting him welcome.

“May I take your coat, sir?”

He ignored the maid and instead locked eye contact with the presumably oldest son of this family. A handsome man looking to be ten or twelve years Seifer’s senior. As expected of a son to a wealthy crime lord he was dressed in a spotless costume and the dark hair was forced to obedience with some kind of hair gel or the like.

“Mr Almasy, I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure to meet before?” the man greeted and held out a hand.

“Where’s your father?” Seifer growled.

He didn’t have the time or temper for any pleasantries. The man, whatever his surname was, pressed his lips together and took his hands behind his back.

“I don’t know if you are aware of this, Mr. Almasy, but since a few years back I’m taking care of the operations. My father has retired and shouldn’t be bothered,” he said calmly.

Seifer fisted his hands and stared the man fully in the eyes. The man soon looked away and cleared his throat to say something more. That was everything needed. The blond snapped his fingers.

“You, take me to Mr. Shansho,” he barked at the maid who jumped.

“Mr. Almasy…” the younger version of the crime lord protested and the girl looked between them.

“Now,” the cop added with a more threatening growl.

This whimpering boy-scout wouldn’t have sense or backbone to do what needed be done. The maid was a good girl or perhaps she was given permission behind Seifer’s back. In either case she scurried away and he easily followed with long strides.

Seifer faintly remembered the house from younger years. If he remembered correctly he had been playing in the garden with one of the daughters when he was still young enough to not fully understand the world around him.

He was led to a sunny terrace that led out to the grand garden. In the shadow was a table with surrounding chairs. The maid stopped halfway and Seifer continued forward. He was surprised to find the old Shansho. Old. Very old.

The once straight backed, broad shouldered man had withered away to a small, old man. His hair was still thick as well as his mustache and beard, but it was as white as pearls. He was seated in a wheelchair and bundled up in warm clothes and blankets even though it was really hot. Seifer felt somewhat dread. Had this man, that he had such virile memories of, withered away to a senile fool?

However, as he was close enough for eye contact, green eyes looked up and the sharpness in them reminded him of a particularly vicious hawk. Dry lips and wrinkled face wrinkled even more in a smirk that was so typical the man.

“Well, well… Seifer Almasy. I have to admit, your visit surprises me,” Mr. Shansho said.

His voice had turned old too but it was still strong and clear. He had been a good singer once, Seifer remembered, and a good guitarist.

“I tried telling him you have retired father,” the younger Shansho said tightly as he stepped up to stand protectively by the elder man.

“And I’m guessing he walked straight over you,” the man chuckled.

Seifer almost twitched his lips at the younger Shansho’s annoyed expression. The old man gestured Seifer to sit. The cop stepped forward but faltered. The steam that had taken him there had somehow escaped without him noticing.

He and Teo had been talking most of the night, he thought. Or most of the night and day? Seifer had come to the conclusion that this was the only man he truly thought and trusted could help him. But standing there, he realized he hadn’t formed any concrete plan. Which was a first in many years. Old, sharp eyes eyed him and it stripped years from the blond’s shoulders.

“Last time I saw you, you was little more than long legs and arms. You’ve become a fine looking man, Seifer,” Mr. Shansho praised him calmly.

“If I remember correctly you was little more than a spitfire back then too,” he then added with a mischievous grin.

Seifer made a grimace.

“Yeah, well, I grew up,” he muttered and sat down.

The old man chuckled shortly and the younger Shansho sat down too.

“You haven’t met my oldest son, Frank, have you Seifer?” the man questioned and made a gesture for the man.

Seifer shook his head. He started to question his own decision. If he told Mr. Shansho about is father death, he’d want Seifer to step up and take the position meant for him. He didn’t want it and yet he couldn’t touch Seraph on his own. Without back up he would be helpless in the hands of that sadist and that wouldn’t help Squall in the least.

“What brings you here, Seifer? Is your father all right?” the man asked calmly as if they were still just exchanging pleasantries.

Seifer sighed and shook his head. There was no use trying to keep up a façade with this man. Sharp eyes had been watching him from that first stare.

“Father’s dead,” Seifer said bluntly.

The two men sat silent and listened intently as he explained how he himself had come to that knowledge. However, he avoided mentioning Squall. He wasn’t sure about this man’s reaction. Actually, he didn’t know how the older Shansho felt about homosexual in the least. The young version could go jump of off a cliff for all Seifer thought of him.

Once Seifer silenced the older man sat for a long time in deep contemplation or sorrow. He and the late Arano Almasy had been good friends, hence Seifer’s somewhat trust in the man. Finally the old man made a deep tired sigh.

“I was afraid of this. So was your father. It’s a pity you somehow managed to grow up into such a honorable man. A damn pity,” Mr. Shansho sighed.

Seifer arched a eyebrow at that, then he made a wry smirk.

“Pity I didn’t slit the bastard’s throat you mean?” he said.

Those sharp eyes held him for a long moment.

“Quite frankly? Yes. I told your father that he had sired a snake. There was evil in that child when he was only a toddler. Had your father not been such a sentimental fool he should have rid himself of the devil,” Mr. Shansho said sharply.

Seifer couldn’t help the mixed emotions at that statement. His fucked up family emotions wanted to hit the old man for saying such things. Those same emotions wanted to speak up in defense of the brother. However, sense made him shut up and crush those emotional reactions. He knew better. He if someone knew how very true those words where and he froze cold in terror thinking too long on Squall being held captive.

“We could hire a assassin,” Frank suddenly spoke up.

It surprised Seifer but Mr. Shansho only glanced at his son.

“Only we know of this. We can get rid of Seraph before we tell the others. We’ll make his bloody plan backfire on him,” Frank said hotly.

He rose a notch on Seifer’s scale and the blond eyed the man more closely.

“We have a few good contacts for the sort but perhaps you know someone better?” Mr. Shansho said calmly and gave Seifer a stare.

If it was that easy, Seifer would have hired one a long time ago. The blond had to admit, though, that murder within the family made him worse than nauseous. Yet, this was the first time he had truly contemplated and planed to… murder his own brother. His own blood.

He knew a few people skilled enough that they might be able to pull it off. Irvine was one of them what with his perfect skill in sniping. However, Seifer had concluded that no one could really be trusted with such a assignment except himself. Yet, he couldn’t get close because then he could as well put a bullet through Squall’s head.

Nausea suddenly rose through his stomach to his mouth and the blond rose. He started pacing while fighting down the sudden quit physical nausea and pictures of the brunet dead or worse. Never before had the cop experienced such terror. He had to fight to keep his breathing somewhat normal and to keep his heart rate down.

He should have allowed Teo to come with him to this meeting as the man had offered. Seifer stooped and gazed out over the garden to somehow get back his scattered thoughts. How could he explain for these two that he couldn’t send a assassin with the risk of the assassin failing his mission? Because if the professional failed, Seraph would retaliate where it hurt Seifer the most.

“What are you not telling me, son?” Mr. Shansho asked softly.

Seifer turned around and stoically meet the old man’s eyes.

“Seraph…” he started and for a moment debated what words to use, “kidnapped someone very important to me.”

Mr. Shansho straightened somewhat in the wheelchair and got a expression as if he hurt.

“A lover?” the man asked still softly.

Seifer nodded.

“Outrageous! How can the board allow such a man in our organization?” Frank suddenly hissed.

The older Shansho shook his head. Apparently Frank hadn’t meet Seraph face to face or he wouldn’t ask that. The elder gestured for Seifer to sit down.

“Very well, Seifer, I see your dilemma but stay calm. It is still possible to solve this mess without a bloodbath,” the old man said calmly and his eyes were already deep in thought.

Seifer allowed himself to take a deep breath. He had to trust in his brother’s intelligence. He wouldn’t hurt the brunet in any irreparable way and Squall was tough. He had to believe in that odd strength of will and self the youth had.

*****

He woke up half way. There was no better way to describe his heavy head and sluggish thoughts. Or the way his mind was shimmering along the conscious surface. He was aware of his body, just not wake enough to be there. Until hands stroked him.

Big hands stroked his back down to his buttocks and thighs, then up again. Fear rushed up through his stomach to his brain without him really understanding why. Not until his brain had truly started functioning and he realized just who’s hands it was.

Squall fisted his hands in the bed covers while trying not to react to the hands calmly stroking him. He tried to not let his fear grow visible in his body, like every muscle tightening and his breathing shortening. After a while he thought it odd there was no pain. There should be pain.

His whole back and buttocks and thighs should be flaming with it. A lot of other places should be in pain, but they weren’t. A painkiller then? Had he been given something?

Squall made a involuntary gasp as coldness spread over his back before the hand was on him again and stroked the oil, or whatever it was, over him. Squall couldn’t be hundred percent sure it was the bastard. He was still in the detestable bed and facing the window side. He didn’t dare move to confirm that it was the blond stroking oil over non hurting wounds.

One hand shifted to put pressure on his neck. The move confused the brunet until two fingers slipped between his buttocks and inside the abused hole there. He made a involuntary gasp/cry at the very sharp pain at the intrusion. Still, they slipped easily inside him and deeply too. The oil helped but mostly it was the straining night that had done it.

Squall bit down in his bottom lip hard and his hands went white around the bed he fisted. He endured the twisting, stroking fingers under held silence. Was this some sick foreplay? The fingers slipped out and the man surprisingly rose. Squall stayed still and stared as the blond slowly walked around the bed to look him in the eyes.

Seraph was mostly dressed for the day but the arms of his shirt were rolled up and his hands glistening with whatever oil he had used. Their eyes met. The green, dark eyes were unreadable. Emotionless. The youth broke the eye contact. The man picked up a hand towel and whipped of the oil.

Once done he leaned over Squall. Against his own will, the brunet tensed and buried his hands deeper in the bed covers again. Seraph grabbed the covers and dragged them over the naked youth. It took a while for Squall to realize that the man didn’t intend to brutalize him further.

“To night you will behave,” the man stated calmly.

Squall stayed silent and partly hidden under the covers. The blond didn’t demand him to answer, just picked up his costume jacket and left the room.

For a long while after, Squall lay perfectly silent and still. He was fully awake now, at least, but felt no pain. Not even from his over used rectum. The youth shuddered at a sudden, quite involuntary flash of picture and sense memory. That half second long thing was enough to turn his stomach in nauseating humiliation. It seemed impossible to not think. The harder he tried to think of something else, the more insistently his brain revealed in the night.

In the end he went through the night a second time. Over and over berating himself of the things he did or the things he didn’t do. The sounds he had let escape or the sharp replays he hadn’t made. What if he had fought harder? What if he had bitten the man when he had had the chance? Or had he been able to kick the bastard out of the bed and make it for the door that time in the middle of it all when his hands had been freed again?

Squall made a angry shout/sob and hit his fist in the soft bed. He sat up and felt sore and somewhat aching but far from what it should be. It was then he realized he hadn’t been left to his own devices.

Shrugging away the bedcover, Squall lay eyes on the heavy shackle around his ankle. It was complete in iron but around the cuff was a fur cover. The youth stared at it dumbly, then slowly followed the line of his long legs. There were more bruises along them than he had had yesterday. Along the sides of his thighs were red welts from the whip he had tasted more than once.

He prodded the area and found it clammy with whatever the man had stroked into the flesh. Grinding it between finger and thumb he smelled at the substance. It didn’t smell anything but the consistence wasn’t that of oil. It dried on his fingers and soon enough there was no trace of it. Squall stroked the sticky thigh again but this time took a tentative taste of the stuff.

It tasted faintly sweet. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. Did it exist painkillers in gel form? Why make it taste sweet then? Or was it just some oil stuff to make his skin less red? The youth sighed and ruffled his hair before he tugged at it.

It didn’t really matter what it was, it had just been something to occupy his mind. What was he supposed to do? Stay there like a good boy? With the shackle there wasn’t much else he could do. What would he do once night came again?

His stomach tightened just imagining it. The insides of his mouth was sore in places. He knew there should be bruises in his face too but one touch told him the gel had been applied there too.

He got a sudden overwhelming home sickness. He wanted home so bad he almost started crying, but held back the sobs and sat shaking instead. He wanted Seifer there. He wanted the idiotic, bastard cop there to take him home or to simple beat the crap out of Seraph.

What gruesome things were the man demanding of Seifer for Seifer not to have gotten Squall out of there yet? Squall had grown more and more sure that the cop wouldn’t have left him like this. From time to time his conviction wavered though and he thought that he had truly been abandoned again.

His logic, cold matter of fact brain told him though that both Teo and Quistis would start questioning his disappearance. They would care enough to look for him, but would they find him and if; could they do something?

The day dragged forward. He slept, since he had nothing better to do. He could at least follow the flow of time somewhat thanks to the huge windows. His stomach soon enough kept him awake with a angry growling and rumbling.

The long day gave him time to think once he got over the deadly humiliation he felt every time he touched the subject of the night. But, wasn’t that what Seraph was after? To humiliate him, scare him and subdue him? It was what he got off on after all. In his fantasy Squall imagined himself punching that arrogant face first opportunity given. He knew, however, that he wouldn’t have gut enough to do it.

Not when confronted by those hard, cold, emotionless eyes. He shuddered thinking of the very painful whipping he had gotten. The beating, Squall concluded, was worse than the actual rape. Had he only risked being violated he’d kick, bite, punch and overall protest his treatment mindless of the consequences. It was the threat of that whip or any other sick game Almasy could conjure up that knotted Squall’s stomach.

Later he tested the limit of the chain and tried figuring out how it was fastened. It was fastened somewhere under the bed, probably to the floor. It was long enough for him to walk two-three feet from the bed if he stretched it. Even if he could have gotten loose, what would he do? He could steel clothes from the walk in closet, probably. The door might still be unlocked but then what? How did he escape from a place he didn’t even know where it was? Of course, he could perhaps find the garage and steal a car?

Fantasies, he knew. He’d probably, if being completely honest with himself, not be able to do any of that out of fear. The fantasy part of him wanted to snort and say that of course he would. If just given the chance he’d escape this hell hole…

Squall started to grow beyond hungry but mostly his bladder was turning him desperate. It was almost a relief as the door opened. Until he saw who came to visit.

The tall platinum haired man stepped inside carrying a big silver tray. Squall’s insides knotted painfully when meeting the eerie blue eyes. The man gave a shark smile resembling Seifer’s so much Squall shuddered. The door closed and the tray was put on the now empty table. As Serano straightened and sauntered closer Squall narrowed his eyes.

The man was dressed in simple straight pants and a buttoned down, light colored shirt. When studying the man again, Squall’s eyes widened some in surprise. Dressed in such simple, non intimidating clothes and bathed in the bright sunlight Squall realized Serano couldn’t be much older than himself.

“Knew you’d look good in bruises,” Serano purred as he slowly advanced.

Somehow this new realization and the fact he had already been through a hellish night made him feel less fear in the face of this… this brat.

“Didn’t know you was just a brat,” he said before checking himself.

Serano blinked in surprise. The brunet feared for a moment that the surprise would shift into bristling anger and pain. Then the platinum haired youth laughed.

“Brat? Alright, if I’m the brat you must be the boy-toy,” Serano leered.

Squall clenched his jaws hard and glared. He made sure to have a good grip of the sheet around him when the taller youth stepped close enough to touch.

“I knew father would manage to cool that temper of yours,” he grinned.

Grey-blue eyes narrowed and Squall wondered what consequences hitting the other would get him.

“If you ask really sweetly I’ll let you use the bathroom and eat,” Serano continued.

As a large hand rose to either play or clutch Squall’s hair, the brunet stepped away. Whatever asking sweetly meant he wouldn’t do it. He should have known better than to believe the simple act of stepping away would have spared him. Serano’s hand shot out like a striking snake and Squall hissed as his hair was caught anyway. He was dragged closer again and glared for all he was worth. The taller youth just leered.

“Should we continue what we didn’t finish in your apartment? I bet you’re all warmed up for me,” Serano purred.

Squall debated what to answer. Knee the bastard or tell him what a bad copycat he was. The brunet didn’t have time for any retorts though, suddenly he was kissed. It was a true kiss to. Teeth clashed, yes but there was no biting, just a obnoxious tongue that had the audacity to thrust into his mouth. Squall bit down so hard he was sure he’d bite it off.

Now, that didn’t happen but Serano made a yelp that should have woken the dead before being able to withdraw. They stared at each other, Squall defiantly and Serano in pained surprise. Then anger. Squall was ready for the backhanding he received and followed the force down on the floor. His head was ringing, jaws hurting and cheek stinging but there was no injury. He even managed to glare up at the fuming youth.

They glared for a while at each other and Serano wiped his mouth; probably looking for blood Squall hadn’t managed to draw. The brunet got to his feet but didn’t look away from the predator that was staring at him as if debating where to strike.

“Lucky for you I’m not allowed to play but I’ll get my time,” Serano growled.

Squall didn’t argue but was silently grateful that he would only have to endure one of them. The chain was taken off and he had to accept the sheet being ripped from him. It was fine since all that happened was him being dragged to the bathroom and ordered to shower and do whatever else he needed. With an open door but still.

As he stood under the hot water he realized that this was just the chance his fantasy had prompted at. Was there any sharp objects in the bathroom? Like a razor? Or could he somehow splatter soap in the man’s eyes? Was the shampoo bottle heavy enough to knock him unconscious? And if, would Squall really have the gut to go through with it?

Squall jumped as the shower door was dragged aside. He glared at the platinum haired youth who only leered and leaned back against the opposing wall to watch. Muscular arms crossed over a muscular chest. Every nerve and hair bristled in the brunet at the unashamed scrutiny he was given. He turned his back on the man and started rinsing himself. It was then he noticed that the showerhead was one of the lose sort you could take down.

The brunet’s stomach tightened in nervousness and excitement. The metal head would surely be heavy enough if enough force was put behind it. It didn’t reach far though. Serano would have to be much closer. Squall’s stomach tightened even more. Should he go with the bottle then? But how was he to get close enough? Squall bit his bottom lip in the attack of nervousness that shot through him. He could… perhaps… entice the man closer? And what if it failed? And what if he stupid like a goat let the other chain him to the bed again?

Squall almost shuddered. He had no choice. This was his chance. No chain, the door unlocked. There was clothes in the walk in closet even if they didn’t fit him. He’d kill himself if he didn’t take this chance. But just how did you entice a man? Especially since he’d been so vehemently protesting earlier. Wouldn’t Serano get cautious?

“Are you trying to finish the warm water? It’s impossible, you know?” Serano chuckled.

Squall looked over his shoulder with half a frown, half a glare. Icy blue eyes was racking his body without hiding the lust. The brunet looked away. Better try something than stay silent. It couldn’t more than fail. He half way turned to the man.

“And what if there’s two in a shower? Would it be possible then?”

Squall could have slapped himself for the ridicules sentence. Serano straightened some and his expression turned more serious.

“Want me in there so you can bite me again? No thanks, I’ll wait until I get a proper gag on you,” the platinum haired youth muttered.

But he was interested. Of course he was. He had been since the night club. Squall was ready to back off, but then straightened and put a hand in his side.

“You want to fuck me, right?” he snapped.

Stupid question. The other leered widely. What now? Squall needed a good reason for wanting this bastard to touch him. So what would sound believable enough to fool the other?

“If you can keep your father away I can… we can fuck instead,” Squall finished and swallowed hard.

Didn’t that sound ridicules? Changing one rapist to the other? But Serano got that calculating, leering, predatory look and slowly stalked closer until he could rest both arms along the entrance to the shower.

“Didn’t like the whip did you? Want me to keep him away from you?” the other youth purred and it was obvious the thought aroused him.

Squall gave a short nod. So the man was close enough, now what? Serano slowly slipped out of his shoes and opened the shirt completely, showing of impressive abs. He didn’t have Seifer’s six pack though.

“You realize that would require explicit obedience from you? No complaining, protesting or fucking biting?” he growled.

Squall gave a short nod, his voice wouldn’t have worked. His legs started to feel watery and his body started to feel weak from adrenaline/fear. His heart was beating so hard it should be visible. What if Serano didn’t join him in the shower? Before he had started fretting too much at that possibility, the platinum haired youth stepped inside, mindless of the water drenching his clothes.

Squall couldn’t help the instinctual resistance when a arm circled his waist and drew him closer. The hand went to his buttock and squeezed while the other fisted his wet hair. As he was to be kissed again, he reacted without being able to stop. He squirmed and twisted to avoid it and got a rough shake in his hair for it.

“I said no protesting,” Serano growled.

Squall’s stomach coiled. Why was a kiss suddenly so abhorrent for him? He steeled himself when he was kissed again. The tongue didn’t slip inside but shimmered just outside. So he did learn a thing or two, did he? Since Squall didn’t protest, he was soon given tongue. He didn’t participate but coiled away from the invader.

The hand at his buttock pressed between them and fingers soon probed his anus. Squall steeled himself for pain but surprisingly it didn’t hurt as the fingers pushed inside. His brain was spinning furiously as he let himself be molested. How was he supposed to grab the showerhead? How much force to use? Hyne, what if he didn’t succeed? The thought of the sure and very painful punishment almost turned him nauseous.

A very hard dick rubbed against him and Squall huffed as he was slammed back against the shower tills. The hand at his buttock shifted to grab his thigh to hoist it up. His throat was sucked as his thigh was squeezed and kneaded. Serano was freeing himself and Squall for a moment felt panic start to cloud his head. Then both his buttock and thigh was grabbed and used to hoist him up.

By reflex he hooked his legs around the other’s waist, then realized he was just by the showerhead. He grabbed the ironbar the shower was held up by. He was kissed again and the thick cock was pressing against his non too tight anus. Hyne, he needed the man to look away. Squall fought against his panic and fear. Not too soon. Had to wait. Couldn’t risk the youth to realize his intent.

Squall gasped/cried as Serano pushed inside. He ploughed straight inside to the hilt and for a moment Squall had to struggle with his breathing. The platinum haired youth groaned and made a predatory leer.

“I knew you’d be a willing bitch. You actually like it when men slap you around, don’t you?” he growled.

Squall didn’t answer but the humiliation/fear/anger helped his panicked mind loosen up. His hand found the shower head and he saw the realization in ice blue eyes. The bastard withdrew and almost dropped him, Squall was ready though. He had a good grip in the wet shirt and then he could slam the shower head down.

The impact sent a sickening shook through his arm and blood sprang forth from the area of impact. But it only dazed the youth who staggered backwards with eyes crossed. Squall steeled himself and slammed the showerhead into that arrogant face again.

Serano’s legs went out under him and Squall found himself easing the fall by still clutching the shirt. Then he stood there staring at the unconscious, bleeding man. His heart was racing, his breathing felt labored and way too fast. His body trembled. Hyne, had he killed the other? He kneeled to find a pulse. It was there, faint but steady. He rose again. What now?

Squall shut off the water and stepped out. For some reason he closed the shower stall door. What now? He already felt hunted and imagined hearing running footfalls. Had anyone heard that? He had to dry off. Clothes. He needed clothes.

Almost in a blur of movements he hastily dried of. By some miracle of foresight he checked the cabinet’s for something sharp but only found a electric razor. He didn’t have time. He ran to the walk in closet and found the light switch. Clothes in long rows. Mostly costumes in different forms and color. A lot of black and not a single thing that would fit him.

No Hyne damn time! Squall tore down a couple pants and shrugged into them after finding a belt. He had to roll up the legs to not stumble on them. He tore down a shirt and shrugged into it. Fortunately he didn’t have to put it inside the pants to make it look good. Why by hell he wanted to look good he didn’t know. It just came by instinct. It was useless taking any shoes because they’d just hinder him. He found a couple socks he took on though. Better than barefoot because he’d have to do some running. He was absolutely sure of it.

Once done he stood in the big room feeling hunted and lost. He looked to the bed and shuddered. He almost turned his back on it until he remembered the knife that had been used. It didn’t take long to find it in the nightstand. It had a sheath so it was safe to push it down in the belt by the small of his back. Not that he knew what he would do with it. Would he really be able to use it against another human? Didn’t matter.

By the door he stopped in a nervous flutter. What did he do? Open and hope no one was in the corridor? Or listen? He listened pressed to the wood. He didn’t hear anything but stood still in indecision. What was he to do once in the corridor? He only knew his way back and forth to the room, the dining hall and the big entrance. He didn’t have a clue as to where a car might be. Or if there was any guards patrolling the area. But he couldn’t stay there!

He stepped out once making sure there was no one in the corridor. It was eerily silent. He didn’t see anyone or hear anyone. Half feeling for panicking, and half holding icy control on his mind, Squall started walking in the direction he knew. He soon half ran, half walked very fast while expecting some kind of alarm going off or guards come running around a corner.

He entered the stairs without even seeing a servant. It both relieved him and scared him. Where was everyone? Was there security cameras in the house?

He got down to the entrance, creeping down one step at a time while straining his ears for any little sound. Once down he hid partly behind a column. His hands were sweaty and his mouth dry. He had to start thinking. He couldn’t just run out through the big doors and continue running down the alleyways. They where sure to come after him. He needed a car or something otherwise he could as well stay where he was.

So a car. Where was the garage? Did he need a key to open a port? He stood for a long time, he thought, debating which way to go. In the end he made his way into a corridor at the left from the entrance. It had high windows out to the courtyard and from one he thought he saw a pathway that had to lead to garage.

Excited and scared and highly hyper, Squall sneaked down the corridor. He came to a corner and quite suddenly someone stepped around it. It was one of the servants. A girl. They stared at each other, Squall’s whole body frozen and heart strangled in constricted fear. Would she start screaming? Was this the end?

She drew breath and he jolted forward. He managed to cover her mouth but unfortunately banged her into the wall. He hushed and hoped he looked pleadingly and not fanaticly desperate as he felt.

“Please be quiet,” he whispered.

She had large brown eyes and light brown hair. She was a few inches shorten than him. Slowly she nodded. Could he trust her? Trust her with what? Still he slowly took away his hand. Should he ask for help? Would she help him? The servants had to know what the sadist had done.

“Help,” he managed to press out.

The brunet desperately pressed his brain to come up with something more intelligent. Apparently she did know he wasn’t there willingly. Apparently she didn’t like it because she nodded and gently took his hand.

They quietly and quickly walked down a number of corridors and crossed a big hall at one point. They came to some backdoor he guessed and when she opened it he saw a short lawn going over to wild forest.

“Through that you’ll find the wall. Follow it left and you’ll reach the gates,” she whispered.

Squall shook his head, wide eyed and scared and desperate to do as she said but knowing better.

“I need a car,” he whispered back.

She bit the inside of her cheek and he realized she was as afraid or more than him. Still she gave a short nod.

Back into the house and through more corridors. At one point they hid in a room to avoid large, menacingly looking guards. He wanted to ask how many there where but couldn’t. Finally they entered a area that looked garage like. She opened a door that lead to a short stair and a short, narrow corridor to another door.

“There. I don’t know how to get the ports open or where the car keys is. You should just run,” she hissed at him.

He shook his head and went down the stair. She didn’t follow. As he looked back she just closed the door behind him. He guessed she couldn’t risk being gone anylonger. The fear hit him fully in his stomach again. Keep moving.

The garage was lit and he gasped when he stepped out in the hall. At least five rows of cars in different models and colors. Furthest in and obviously not in use was a collection of truly old models. Those closer to the ports was, among others, the car he had been taken there in. Fast sports cars, jeeps intended for rough terrain and other flashy and not so flashy cars. What, one for each occasion?

Squall tore his eyes from the sight and quickly scanned his surroundings for anyone and saw a blincking security camera. This time his heart truly did stop in fear. Had anyone seen him yet? He had to think they had.

Quickly he made his way through the cars to the port. Easy, there were a control panel by them. He chose the first best car. A flashy sports car but it had a lousy security system. Even better, the idiots hadn’t locked it. It made Squall wonder if maybe it didn’t have any gas.

Sinking down in the smooth leather he felt slightly eased. This was child’s play. He took out the knife and easily and automatically went through the movements to hot wire the car. Once the beauty was purring he concluded that it had gas. Was rich people truly so stupid or had it reacently been used? Or did the Almasys think no one would dare steel from them?

Squall stepped out of the car and opened the port. He didn’t wait to see that it opened fully, but sat down in the car again. However as the port was open enough for him to roll out, he was staring a guard straight in the face. At gunpoint. His brain went blank. What by Hyne did he do now?

“Get out of the car,” the guard barked without moving or lowering the aim.

Squall sat still. So close. So damn close. Or? Wouldn’t he have been able to escape through the gates anyway?

“Don’t make me come get you,” the guard barked.

A group of people was closing in on the garage, among them a towering blond. If Squall had felt fear before, he felt true terror now. He could see the anger, the rage in hard, green eyes from this distance. Good Hyne, the man would kill him. Or worse. Break his fingers and whip him bloody, torture him to death.

Animalistic fear made him stomp the gas pedal to the floor. The car screeched and made a jump forward. The guard barely managed to throw himself out of the projectiles way. Out on the pathway the car swirled and wobbled and almost hit the group of guards and master.

Cars wasn’t Squall’s thing really. They where big and slow and yet so fickle. He got the machine under control and the tires spewed dirt as he pushed the engine. He heard loud bangs and a cold logic side of him said it was guns firing. Guns.

Squall flew out on the courtyard and the car skidded in the pebble pathway, making long dark gouges in it. He cried out as a bullet, it had to be, shattered a window and rained glass over him. Still his body knew even in terror what to do with the machine around him.

The car was soon racing down the alleyway and he quickly felt how wrong it was. He could feel it as if his own leg had been hit, flattened tires. Both back was flat and it fucked up the car. Still, rather both than one.

Something was pinging in the car, probably a warning that said he wore no seatbelt. He could see the tall gates and realized there was no way short of explosions that would get him past them. Guards had left their posts and stood spread legged in front of the iron, guns raised. Shooting.

Squall cried out again as the window was shattered and he veered off course by shear instinct alone. He was in the vegetation along the road and just knew he’d end up hugging a tree. The car stroked along a tree and the rearview mirror flew. He thought he saw a tree up front and tried steering clear, still the right front of the car drove straight into it. Making the vehicle spin and come to a sudden halt.

His head was ringing, the car was fuming and gasping and Squall thought he knew how clothes had to feel in a tumbler. He had to move. He was hurting but ignored it. He’d hurt more if they caught him. The door wouldn’t budge so he kicked out the front window before tentatively crawling out.

Standing he realized just how fucked up his head was. It was swimming and his legs trembled so badly he had to take support against a tree. Keep moving.

He stumbled a few steps before managing to straighten his balance. Then he heard the barking and froze yet again in fear. Dogs? They had dogs? That was so fucking unfair!

Squall saw a black, sleek body further away and even further men with guns. He started running. His right leg was hurting badly and his left side screamed bloody murder.

The dogs closed in and he knew that was the end. He saw a half fallen tree that he managed to climb up onto, not a second too late. A black, furious beast shoot out through a bush and jumped after him. It missed and Squall crawled backwards as far up the fallen tree as he could.

Another black beast shot out and started jumping after him like its friend. The beasts barked and growled and their faces was just large saliva drenched fangs wanting to rip him to pieces.

Four black dogs had started jumping after him before any human reached them. Five or more guards circled the half fallen tree and a handler roared at the dogs who obediently stopped jumping. Calmly like that of the eye of a hurricane, Seraph Almasy stepped out in the small clearing around the tree.

Their eyes met and Squall swallowed hard.

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Author’s Note:
The AFF Moderators is jumping down my throat for, apparently, review whoring myself on older fictions. If I ever do something that’s against the rules, could someone please tell me? Because honestly, I have no way of keeping track of all these regulations and crap that keep popping up.

Also, because of the increased difficulty to post stories her without offending any rules, I’m looking for other sites to post my stories on. If anyone have a suggestion, please email me. And I will of course inform if I change site by posting comments of it everywhere.

Anyhow, next chapter will be harsh, as you can imagine. I have like three chapters to show you the characters of seraph and Serano so…

I’m planning a Christmas present in form of a short fiction. No promises yet, but if I manage it, the first chapter will be out on the 24/12 – 09. The last should happen before the end of this year.