Terror on Gay Street: Halloween Nightmare

Chapter one: The Death of love

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or Metal gear. This story contains themes of grief, loss and homosexuality. I think that homosexuality is not a bad thing and should be accepted in society; so religious fanatics watch out. Homophobes should hit the back button.

Three days before Halloween Night

Edward Cullen-Whitlock sat in his house, utterly alone. Jasper was dead as Jacob Marley. It was an undisputable fact, immutable and unchanging

Jasper was dead and nothing would bring him back. Edward Cullen-Whitlock was more alone than he'd ever been; once he'd been cold, arrogant and lived for nothing but pathetic, fleeting pleasures. He had no friends and no acquaintances except the greasy Greek tough guy Peter.

But Jasper was dead and because of it, Edward was alone. Before he merely chose not to have friends but now he was incapable of such a thing. There was a giant bleeding hole in his chest and it wouldn't heal.

Edward Cullen-Whitlock was alone and at first the only way he could deal with the death of his dead husband was to drink obscene amounts of gin and tea.

Naturally everyone had a fit about that—Jasper was still dead—but they gave a rat's ass about Edward's new alcohol and tea problem. Maybe they had less of a problem with the tea.

Edward's father was a Doctor and his mom was a member of an anti-drunken driving organization so naturally they raised a huge parent fit when they found out their son was going through a bottle of gin a day.

Edward might have been drunk off his ass twenty four hours a day but at least when he was drunk he could still do his work as a photographer. Being drunk and stoned all the time didn't stop Mexican assassins so it didn't stop Edward with his job.

So with a lot of kicking and screaming and moments that he dimly knew he'd regret, Edward gave up the gin and just started drinking obscene amounts of tea to sooth his bleeding, damaged soul.

So, with a cup of steaming hot tea in his hands, Edward listened to his friend Peter try to cheer him up and bring him out of the depression he'd been in for nearly a year.

Peter was an interesting fellow; the son of two Greek immigrants, he was a rough and tough bad boy with a bad attitude. He was old school, was Peter Costas; with his greasy hair, gold chain, developed muscles and wife beater shirt he was truly a Greek Guido.

Him and his friends Sweet Kapoyanis and Dennis the Brute were some of the best bar fighters in the city. Despite being very different from the openly gay, coldly arrogant Edward there was a strong connection between the two men. Both of them shared a great disdain for humanity in general that was tempered by a soft nature within.

They just got their rocks off in different ways. Edward was once the most valued gay stud in the Seattle gay community. Men lined up for miles on end to be impaled on his cock; that was until demure Texan Jasper went in and tamed Edward. Lots of man lovers hated him for taking Edward out of commission.

Peter meanwhile loved to fight and fight; it didn't matter who he fought as long as glass was breaking, blood was flowing and teeth were rolling around on the floor like marbles. Good old Peter would happily kick the shit out of you in front of your wife and then steal the take home dinner you got from Swiss Chalet up the road.

So far nobody had tamed Peter yet and he and his pals continued to terrorize the Seattle bar scene.

Yet now Peter was showing off a kinder and gentler side of his personality that very few would ever see. He sat across from his friend Edward, who looked like hell's half acre. The once stylish gay man was gritty looking and unshaven; he was like a Noir detective without the will to live. The house was a mess and the tea didn't have so much as a twist of lemon in it.

Pete sat across from Edward at the kitchen table. You knew that things were bad with Edward because Peter was actually holding Edward's hand! Peter never held another man's hand; he liked Edward as a friend but homosexuality creeped the fuck out of him.

"I'm telling you, Edward," Peter pitched to his friend, "You're going to love this guy."

Despite Peter's enthusiasm, Edward just looked blankly with eyes that hadn't seen sleep in seventy-two hours. The tea mug in his hands steamed.

Peter continued to describe the guy. "He's about eighteen years old—perfectly legal."

His one hand held Edward's hand while the other waved around animatedly in true Greek fashion, "The guy's from Poland and he's more than happy to be here in this country. I mean, he's fucking stoked to be here and he's so grateful."

Edward sighed. He knew that everyone meant well; everyone only wanted him to get better but wounds of the mind were much harder to heal than wounds of the flesh sometimes. He felt almost like a World War one soldier; he was fine physically but he was crippled mentally and it made him feel like a coward.

Oblivious to Edward's internal dilemma, Peter continued. "And I've never gone near any of that but from what I hear this Polish guy is a demon in the sack and he's totally clean—everybody says so."

Edward felt himself groan internally despite his constant grief. He knew that Peter wanted to help, but getting laid with an eighteen year old Polish boy hooker was definitely not the way to go at this stage in the game.

"And I talked to Sweet Kapoyanis's dad," Peter finished, "He says that this guy won't charge you a dime. That's pretty good since he normally charges at least five hundred a night"

Edward sat quiet in the table with a mug of steaming tea gradually cooling in front of him. His face was blank; a total mask.

Peter didn't like this. Edward was the type who knew how to shut himself off and seal his heart away from the whole world. In a way he admired that ability because Peter lacked it utterly; the problem was that this talent of Edward made it hard to know how to help. So Peter was just helping Edward the only he could think of—by getting him a Polish hooker boy with a tight ass.

It was what would make Peter happy—except Peter would have a girl.

Edward continued to stare right through Peter for some time. Absentmindedly, he pulled his free hand from Peter's gentle grip. His gaze shifted for a moment and he took a sip of his tea. He ignored the burning of the hot liquid; the pain made him feel alive and scalding chamomile tea was better than self-mutilation.

At last, Edward began to smirk though it did not reach his eyes. "Do you want to hear something funny, Peter?"

Peter came over with a look of apprehension. He honestly had no idea what Edward was going to say but he was fairly sure he wasn't going to like it one bit. Still, Edward was a friend and he had to hear him out. "Yeah, sure; let's hear it."

Edward gave a small, sad smile and put a hand to his cheek as he leaned on the tabletop. He seemed to become lost in the past, ensnared by a happier past.

Trapped in his memories, Edward began to tell a story to his macho friend. "Two days ago I was out shopping for groceries."

Peter nodded as Edward trailed off. An awkward pause followed before the story resumed.

"Anyway," Edward continued, "I was out buying cheese and I found this one type of cheddar that I'm very partial to."

Peter honestly had no idea where this was going; he was just waiting for the inevitable train wreck.

"So I went home and I started to put away my groceries," Edward took a sip of his tea and lay the cup back down. "Then I was hungry and I felt the need to make myself a sandwich."

"Yeah, sure," said Peter, who was by now way out of his depth in terms of the comfort department.

Edward went on with his seemingly bland story, "So I got out the bread, which was a little stale and a bit mouldy, and I got out the mustard and then when I had all I needed I realized I needed a butter knife."

As Edward rambled, Peter just blinked; his face becoming an unreadable mask of "Oh, Christ on a stick!"

"So I finally got the butter knife to but the bread because my break knife was rusty," Edward sucked in a rasping, deep breath as if about to burst into tear. "Then I opened the package of cheese and it smelled just like Jasper's crotch." Edward's green eyes glistened with tears and turned red from grief that was still raw, "And then I cried and cried for an hour until I became dehydrated." His lower lip trembled and Peter's mind went completely blank.

The macho Greek just stared at Edward with a look of utter, unimaginable, hellish incredulity belonging to man who's heard way too much and then was forced to hear some more.

As Peter stood still as a shell-shocked war veteran, Edward's shoulders and chest began to shake; but he was not crying.

No, Edward was laughing hysterically and mechanically as if he had no more tears left to shed. His high, tittering laughter was so unlike any kind of laughter the man had ever uttered before.

After only a few seconds of hearing Edward's high pitched, desperate laughter, he'd had enough.

"I'm going to the liquor store," said Peter in a monotone. He stood up and pushed his chair back in. "You want anything?"

"Gin!" Edward choked out between laughs.

Peter walked out the door and closed it without saying goodbye, he'd return with hard alcohol before long. As he ran towards his car and sped out of Edward's driveway in ways that were both illegal and unsafe, he pulled out his cell phone and made a call to Edward's parents. They could handle this and keep the guy from offing himself.

Peter sped down the road, cutting across two lanes of traffic and losing a hubcap while he was at it.

Meanwhile, Edward was still laughing hysterically. Nearly choking himself, he stood up shakily to go and brew another pot of tea. As he stumbled in his laughing frenzy, Edward accidently walked into the kitchen door, which had been open and was facing Edward at a perpendicular angle.

"Ow!" Edward squeaked as he walked into the unyielding door.

The whole room seemed to spin around Edward and his feet seemed to be stepping on ice.

He had no idea how it happened, but in a nanosecond of time, Edward found himself slamming down onto the kitchen floor and darkness took him.

As he fell into unconsciousness, images began to play across his eyelids like a grainy black and white movie.

He saw footage of himself and Jasper, smiling and holding hands.

"No," Edward whispered as the image of him and his true love flickered.

The black and white image shifted.

Edward and Jasper were still there but between frames something had moved into the picture.

"Please," Edward begged, unwilling to relive the death of Jasper again.

The strange shape moved in, while dream Jasper and Edward were oblivious.

"Not again," Edward croaked pitifully.

From behind the two, the shape had finally materialized. The footage only seemed to become grainer.

Edward whimpered pitifully, unable to move or stop it. It was the sheerest torture ever conceived; having a rusty nail shoved into his urethra must be a joy compared to watching his lover's death over and over.

The twisted and ancient figure of Revolver Ocelot appeared with a psychotic grin with a million white teeth. Ocelot began to move, while Jasper and Edward were as still as a slideshow.

Edward's whimpering became louder and more pitiful.

Ocelot said nothing as he looked straight into Edward's eyes. He stuck out a long, forked tongue like a snake and leered.

Then with his trademark single action Colt Army, he spun it around his finger, pulled back the hammer, took aim and—

Then Edward truly fell unconscious and knew nothing else. Thank heaven for small mercies.

And here is a Halloween spinoff of my Story Over the top: Terror on Gay Street :D

I had such fun doing Terror on Gay Street so I just had to continue. Here in this story, Jasper is dead and Ocelot killed him. In the next chapter, the circumstances of Jasper's death will be revealed by flashback.

Until then have a happy Halloween :D