"And in other news tonight, police have found yet another building with nothing but gory, mutilated bodies of a dozen men who have been known to be involved with the Russian mafia. The bodies were also found alongside nearly one hundred pounds of cocaine, and an arsenal of illegal weapons. Surveillance footage, that the Miami police department has released to the public, shows one of the many masked vigilantes, one that people have been calling Jacket, entering and leaving the building within the span of five minutes. "Witnesses who were around the area, at the time, heard screams from the building and swore they saw a demon leaving the building, covered in blood. The police believe that this case is tied to the string of "vigilante" violence dubbed the "Hotline Murders."
So now as this story unfolds...
Sarah stood above the stove making dinner for herself and her "hero" as she quietly listened to the newscast going on in the other room. She knew exactly who the news anchor was talking about. Her savior, "Jacket," as the media liked to call him, as well as the only name he had ever given her to call him. Shivers were sent down her spine as memories of how they met came into memory.
She remember for about two weeks she had been at the mercy of the Russians. Her sister Eliana had gotten into some trouble with the Russian mob, and when she couldn't pay off the debt to them, the Russians broke into their home, gagged, handcuffed, and dragged them out.
They were taken to a neon lit room. There the Russians put a gun to Sarah's head in a taunting kind of way. Sarah thought that was it, and then they walked away, and placed the gun at Eliana's temple. "You know," one Russian had said to them. "Just killing both of you would be a shame. So how about we kill only one of you."
Sarah could never forget the look of horror that her sister had been given her when that was said. At that moment the Russian had taken off his white blazer and folded up the sleeves on his light blue shirt. "So Eliana, it's been said by our boss that you value your sisters life more then your very own." He laughed. "Its such a shame that you got your sister caught up in this little mess. Now since you can't pay the boss what you owe him, he personally came up with your "payment".
The Russian nodded at the two other mobsters who were holding onto Eliana. With a loud pop, the mobsters slowly bent her arm at the elbow until the hand could touch her shoulder from behind. Eliana let out a scream that was muffled by the cloth gag in her mouth as hot tears came to her eyes. In a rage, Sarah tried to rush the two mobsters, but was pushed to the ground. All she could do then was watch as the Russians "played" with the two of them.
After the snapping of the other arm, and slowly sawing off five of Eliana's fingers, The girl laid face flat on the blood soaked, tiger skinned carpet, exhausted, and totally stopping any forms of resistance. Tears from both Sarah's and Eliana's eyes were flowing freely.
All five of the Russian mobsters laughed as they observed the mess they had made. The Russian who had taken off his blazer, grabbed Eliana's face, turned it over, and dragged her until Eliana's face was mer inches away from the Sarah's.
"Now take a good long look at each other," the Russian said as his voiced switched from a joking tone to a more sinister and darker voice. "This will be the last time the two of you ever lay eyes one each other while one of you are still breathing." The Russian snickered a bit. "Now since your dear sister was such an angel to help you, the boss decided that she can live." The Russian paused for a moment, and the got real close to Eliana's ear. "Your dear sister can live, and become our personal, little hooker."
Eliana's eyes widened as the Russian said those words. She tried to lash out at him, but her body was too broken from the beating she received earlier. All of the mobsters broke out in laughter as Eliana wiggled like a fish out of water.
"Ok, ok," the Russian said as he tried to compose himself from his laughing fit. "That was the best way we could end this." With that being said, The Russian pulled the trigger on his revolver.
To Sarah, it felt like slow motion as the gun fired off its round. The bullet traveled through the front of her skull, tearing the skin. Blood flew everywhere. As bits of skull and brain flew out and splashed on to Sarah's face, then time sped back up.
"Eliana..." Sarah whispered quietly, a bit unable to comprehend what laid just a few feet in front of her. "Eliana..."
"Awwww look, you broke her." Joked one of the mobsters as he kicked the deceased body of Eliana. The mobster turned his head toward Sarah, and smiled. "Lets break this one now," as he started to unbuckle his belt.
The Russian with the white blazer quickly became alarmed by this, and fired this gun at the ground next to the mobster.
"Сукин сын!" yelled the Russian as the mobster jumped in fear. He quickly turned his head at his attacker with question.
"The boss said that we cannot touch this one," the Russian explained. "The boss said that he has promised Wilson Fisker for the next "film" he is going to make." With a face of annoyance, the mobster buckled up his pants and obliged.
The Russian then turned from the mobsters, and then crouched down next to the Sarah. "You hear that, Hooker?" He quietly whispered to her. "You're safe for the meantime, But after that film is made, you're going to be our little hooker."
From then on, for the next two weeks, Sarah was transferred from safe house to safe house. She was kept in a separate, and slightly cleaner cage from all the other girls that had been kidnapped. She suffered hours of the other girls giving her dirty looks, as if to say, what made her so special. Others looked at her with eyes of pure hatred, and a desire to kill her. This was the mobsters' way of saying that if Sarah tried anything to escape, then she would be fed to the "wolves."
Her capture felt like an eternity until that one fateful night that allowed her to meet her knight in a blood-soaked jacket. Her memory was hazy that night because her mind was everywhere due to dehydration.
The director, Wilson Fisker, a huge black man, had placed her on a bed in nothing but her underwear with multiple cameras around her. He had taken the pleasure in beating her until she started to cry and giving her a few bruises before he started the "show." Just as he was about to start undressing himself, a loud blast came from outside the door. It caught the attention of both of them. The loud blast was followed by a multitude of screams.
Distressed, Wilson ran to the computer screens for the security camera. "What the hell," he whispered as he looked at the security camera's screens. He pulled up a microphone and yelled into it, "All this violence for just a whore that we found on the streets!"
A few moments later, a Russian mobster was thrown through the door of the room that Sarah and Wilson were in. The Russian's white suit covered in blood from the nearly see through hole on his belly. Slow and heavy boots made tiny, but loud blasts on the wooden floor as he walked into the tiny room. His ripped jeans and his yellow, brown, and white jacket was drenched with the red liquids. On the man's head was a silly, rubber rooster mask, but the blood that adorned it lessened the comedic effect.
Wilson turned to face the attacker. "Guess I gotta do everything myself, huh," he said a few seconds before Jacket fired off the shotgun in his hands. A large amount of buckshot tore through the chest of the Film maker, tossing him on his back.
Miraculously, Wilson survived, but barely. He was gasping for air as blood had seeped from his mouth. As he struggled for air, Jacket walked up and stood over Wilson.
"Oh god..." He coughed as he tried to move away, but was unable to do so, for Jacket was holding him down. "Please don't," he begged.
With that Jacket kneeled over Wilson, grabbed his head, and slowly shoved his thumbs into the man's eyes. Wilson let out a bloodcurdling scream as his body struggled for any kind of way to reduce the pain that Jacket was inflicting onto him. Jacket slowly slid his thumbs further into his eye sockets.
When Wilson finally stopped struggling, Jacket released his grip, dropping the lifeless corpse to the ground. He walked over to the bed to see Sarah's cowering figure in the corner covered in sweat and shivering.
Although Jacket's face was unable to be seen, It was apparent that he was staring at Sarah, dumbfounded, unable to think of what he was to do with the broken blonde beauty that lay before him. A few more seconds of him staring at Sarah caused her to start crying, and retreat to the far corner of the bed where she rolled up into a ball. Inside of Jacket's head, he was freaking out with a million thoughts racing through his head.
"Yeah..." She half choked out, half whispered. She didn't really know what to do or say. All she knew is that she wanted the hell that she had been through to be over. "I... I always knew that it would end like this."
As she coughed some more, Jacket stopped his thoughts, and immediately felt sorry for the girl. He stared at her as her pink eyeliner, that was forced on her, mixed with her tears and ran down her face. He extended his hand to Sarah.
"Come, Your safe now," He whispered to her.
Jacket's voice made Sarah flinch a little. His voice was rough, but gentle it was the voice of someone who had seen had seen tragedy. A voice of a man who greatly regretted something, and wanted to make amends for it.
Hesitantly, she reached over to grab ahold of Jacket's hand. That hand holding soon turned into to Jacket picking up Sarah and bridal carrying her to his car. Sarah quickly passed out as Jacket placed her on the backseat of his DeLorean.
For the next few days she passed in and out of conciseness. Small memories came to her every once in a while. Waking up on Jacket's couch screaming for her sister, and Jacket, who just came home with pizza, comforted her. One of her memories was that of receiving a sponge bath. Another was the first time she saw his face. She didn't know why she stayed, or if her savior would let her, but she just did. Her fondest memory was when she had been strong enough to stay awake for more then a few hours, Jacket had came home after his "job" and watched When Harry Met Sally with her. He held her close that night. By this time, Sarah had felt safe in his arms. He was warm. She could feel his well defined abs through his shirt.
Her recalling of past events was interrupted by the door to the flat creaking opening and closing. Sarah quickly turned off the stove and walked over to the door way.
"Jacket!" she called out when she saw the state he was in. Jacket had taken off his bloody mask already, revealing his buzzed blonde hair and nearly clear face a side from a scar that ran across his right cheek to his ear. He was slouched over as he held his belly. Sarah ran over to him, and got under his arm, lead him to the couch.
As she sat him down on the couch, she took off his jacket carefully, making sure not to make any of the excess blood drip off and onto the floor. She dropped the jacket in the bathroom sink that she had pre-filled. Before making her way back to Jacket, she grabbed the medkit.
When she had gotten back to the living room. Jacket had started to fall asleep. After gently nudging him a few times to keep him up she told him "take off your shirt."
Jacket complied, and took off her shirt. In any other situation, Sarah would have taken pleasure in seeing Jacket's finely toned body, but that hole his lower abdomen and all the blood that was coming out was kinda distracting. I took a few moments that for Jacket to noticed this and rolled his eyes then began to reach for the medkit. Sarah quickly slapped Jackets hand away.
"No," she said sternly, "You always make a mess every time you try to stitch yourself up." Jacket sighed in defeat leaned back as she took a seat next to him, and then started to clean his wound with alcohol wipes. Jacket winched at the stinging of the alcohol. Sarah giggled when she noticed this.
After she finished cleaning the wounds, She took the needle and thread, then started to stitch the wound. Just when she finished up, Jacket gently grabbed Sarah's hand. A little surprised, She looked up to see Jacket's blue eyes staring into hers emulating feelings of gratitude.
"Thank you..." Jacket quietly said. "For everything."
Sarah looked down, and chuckled. "What are you doing thanking me for?" She looked back up at his eyes, which had not changed from when she previously looked.
"Don't stare at me like that," Sarah said turning away from Jacket embarrassed a little.
When she turned back, Jacket's face was slowly making his way toward's Sarah's. Sarah had fought the urge to turn back away, and closed her eyes. She knew she shouldn't be doing anything with this man. In fact she should've left Jacket's care after the first night she was healthy to move around on her own. The man would stay out late some nights and come home covered in blood. She shivered as she remembered some nights when she was still in and out of conscious as she would mistake Jacket as a demon. But, Despite all this, Sarah felt obligated to stay with this man. He did in fact save her from the mob.
This feelings of lips touching her forehead made her shiver. She was kind of disappointed, for the result was not one that she had expected. Despite this, she was satisfied in a way.
She opened her eyes staring at the blue eyes of Jacket. She stared at him with intent, but, but he let out a small chuckle, and got up and started walking to the restroom.
"Jacket, wait..." Sarah called out, Stopping Jacket in his tracks.
She opened her mouth to speak as he turned around to face her , but she didn't know what to say from the million thoughts that was racing through her head. She waited, but words could not come to mind.
"Never mind."
Jacket sighed, smirked a little, and turned back around to go the the rest room for his shower.
He took two steps forward, stopped, and turned back around.
"Sarah."
"Yes."
"My name is Richard... Can you call me that from now on?
Sarah, eyes wide open. She wanted to say something, but all she could was nod.
"Thats great," Said Jacket who turned back around, and continued on his way to the shower.
Sarah, a bit unsure of what to make of what just happened, just sat still on the couch for a while, the sounds of the shower running in the background.
After a while she let out a smile.
"Your welcome."
