November 15th, 2034.
Danny's POV:
It's been seven months since Harry was given a clean bill of health. In that time, our lives moved forward. Jude continued teaching at Anchor Beach, Connor continued working as a doctor and surgeon at Sacred Cross, Harry continued to enjoy the success of his book, and I continued to record music with my band. Our lives were back on track, but in the back of our minds we couldn't help the vivid sense of dread that settled in all of our subconscious. With our four way track record of attracting trouble, who could blame us for being paranoid? We knew that the calm wouldn't last very long.
We were right. Now, we're onto a new crisis.
Except now, this time, it's not just us. No, this crisis involves the entire city of San Diego. The whole city is enshrouded by a thick cloak of fear and uncertainty that smothers the place. People are terrified to leave their houses at all, and every police department in the state of California is on the highest alert.
It all started less than two weeks after Harry was given a clean bill of health. We were all at Connor and Jude's apartment having dinner when it came on the news. A single body, discovered bound, stabbed and beheaded in an alleyway downtown. The body, they later identified, belonged to twenty two year old Dominic Villars, a young man who worked as a bartender in a well known gay club in downtown San Diego. Jude, Connor, Harry and I were all horrified, but thought nothing of it at first. After all, random things happen every time, no matter how horrific and unfortunate. It didn't necessarily mean anything else.
A week later, the bodies of two more men were discovered in the same condition. Belonging to a young newlywed same sex couple, it was again all over the news. They were found on a construction site. That's when the real fear started to set in. After all, three bodies in less than a month, all beheaded and stabbed, all belonging to male members of the LGBT community. This was no mere coincidence. This was a pattern. The police realized that they were dealing with a serial killer. Stef even came out of retirement to help with the investigation.
In the seven months that have passed, ten bodies in total have turned up. All of them belonging to young gay men who were stabbed and beheaded. The city is in terror, and even Jude and Connor's paranoia has reached near apocalyptic levels. Unbeknownst to me, both had went out and obtained their Concealed Weapons permits like I had done long ago. When the fourth body turned up, Connor called a meeting at the apartment, and when we arrived we found Brandon and Mike helping to install new locks on the front door, along with a new alarm and security system. Harry and I entered the apartment, and we all waited for them to finish the installation and leave before the meeting started.
"Okay, you called us here." I finally stated to break the tense silence, "What did you guys want to talk about?"
Jude and Connor shared a look, and each withdrew their wallets. The removed something from them and showed them to us.
"Concealed weapons permits?" I asked in shock, "But… you both detest guns. Of any kind. And for good reason I might add."
We really did have reason. Connor's been shot, Jude almost shot, I shot somebody who tried to kill Jude during a parking lot brawl years ago. We all have more reason than most to hate guns.
"We do." Connor said softly, his voice wavering, "But with what's going on out there…"
He nodded his head out the window to the city that lay beyond.
"We don't feel safe anymore, Danny." Jude finished his husband's thought, "We're terrified, both of us. Connor won't even use the parking garage at the hospital anymore because he's scared he'll be attacked. When we're not at work or your place, we barricade ourselves in here. We need to be able to defend ourselves if the worst happens."
"I don't want Jude ending up like those poor people on the T.V." Connor said and for the first time I could hear the true and honest dread in his voice, "None of this even seems real. It's like something out of a movie, but the whole city is terrified. I drove past one of the clubs we used to go to downtown, and the place has tripled its security and put metal detectors at the doors."
"We need to do this, and we know you both have permits too." Jude continued, "So we wanted to ask for your help, Danny."
"What do you want me to do?" I asked.
They both reached behind their backs into the waistbands of their pants, and withdrew two objects which they placed on the table next to us.
"How to use these properly." Connor said, "How to use them well."
I shared a look with Harry, and then my attention returned to the pistols that now rested on the table. Despite the gravity of the situation, everything I had in me was telling me to refuse, to argue.
"I haven't fired a gun in over fifteen years, guys." I said softly, "Not since… *sigh* not since we were attacked in high school. I'm probably so rusty, I'd be a worse shot than you both combined."
"Please, Danny." Jude said quietly, "We're scared. Both of us. You're the only person we know who could help us with this."
"What about Stef?" I asked, grasping at straws, "What about Adam? You said once that your dad used to hunt, Connor…"
"Yeah, with a rifle." Connor interjected, "He's never touched a pistol before in his life. Please."
I stared between the two of them, and after a moment's deliberation I sighed and ran my hand through my hair.
"Fine. When and where?" I caved.
We made arrangements to meet at a shooting range two days later.
The next day, I paid a visit to a storage complex where I had been renting a space. I had not been here in about fourteen years. It was about a week after mine and Harry's wedding . I inserted the key into the lock, and turned it. The door slid up, and I stepped into the cluttered room. I let my eyes roam over the contents. A cupboard that I knew contained the sealed bags that contained mine and Harry's wedding tuxedos. I small locked trunk that contained every letter that Harry ever received from Gideon, plus the photo albums. I stepped further inside and shifted a few garbage bags that sat atop the table in the back. Beneath, sat a polished, black painted wood case. I opened the case, and withdrew the contents. I ran my hand over the polished black wood body of the cane, and the polished chromed metal handle. I gripped the handle, and with a twist, I pulled the handle. The blade slid from its scabbard and I stared at the razor sharp reflective metal. My finger ghosted over the name that was engraved into the blade.
"Gideon." I whispered.
I slide the blade back into the scabbard and locked it back into place. I quickly exited the unit, and locked the door behind me and heading home for the night.
The next morning, Harry and I awoke early and headed over to meet Jude and Connor. We met them outside the gun range, and both of them looked nervous.
"Are you two sure about this?" I asked again, trying once again to change their minds, "It doesn't have to be guns you know. I'm gonna be carrying this with me."
I brandished the cane for their observation.
"I taught you guys how to fence when we were teenagers." I reminded them, "You were good."
"Yeah, but a sword isn't gonna help much against somebody with a gun, is it?" Connor reasoned.
"Yeah but the Stalker doesn't use guns." I reminded them, "He uses a machete."
That little fact was delivered to the police by the one person so far to witness him in action. The witness was found dead two days later. So far all we know about the Stalker was that he was male, wore exclusively black, always wore a black balaclava and hooded jacket, and would behead his victims with a machete after stabbing them with a large knife. he would leave a calling card at the scene of each murder. The calling cards always read the same thing: a date and signed as The Stalker.
Anyway, we went inside, and soon enough we were standing at a booth on the range. Connor went first, and I taught him how to hold the gun, then how to load and aim it, then I demonstrated a few times. Connor did pretty well, and although he flinched whenever the gun went off, he did better than I thought he was.
"You okay, Connor?" I asked.
"Y-Yeah, just brings up bad memories, ya know?" He said shakily as he put down his gun and unloaded it, "Reminds me of when I got shot."
I nodded my understanding and patted him on the shoulder before turning to Jude and repeating the whole process.
Jude's first four shots missed.
"Jude, when pulling the trigger, don't jerk the gun." I instructed, "Squeeze the trigger, and exhale as you do it. The shot will be steadier that way, and you won't miss as much. Okay?"
Jude nodded his understanding, and resumed his practicing. His next five shots hit the target, but still only two of them were actually chest shots on the target. He looked discouraged, and sighed with a frown.
"You okay?" I asked him.
"Yeah, just… thought I'd do better." He said softly.
"It's your first time ever shooting a gun, brother." I reminded him, "I didn't expect perfection. I didn't expect you to get headshots every time you pulled the trigger. That would have been remarkable. Even I did didn't do that well when I first shot a gun."
They both looked shocked at that.
We made plans to return to the range in a week's time, and we all went home.
Three days later, we all met up for our usual night out. We went to the bar, had a few drinks, and then went out to eat. We had a grand time, and when it was time for all of us to head home for the night we were all in good spirits.
It didn't stay that way.
We were walking past an alleyway when we heard it.
"HEEEEELP!"
We turned just in time to see a shape emerge from the darkness down the alley.
It was a boy. He looked to be rather young, early teens perhaps. He looked around with wide startlingly blue eyes and as soon as his gaze landed on us he ran for us. He bolted down the alleyway and launched himself at Jude and Connor. He wrapped his arms tightly around Connor's chest, burying his head in Connor's t-shirt.
The boy was perhaps five feet tall, a bit short for his age which I guessed to be in the twelve to fourteen year old range. He was skinny, dangerously so, and it was clear that he was not eating frequently. Across his face were several bruises and cuts, which indicated abuse and neglect. His clothes were old, filthy, and at least two whole sizes too big. His dirty blond hair was filthy and matted, and was as messy as a birds nest.
"Please, you've gotta help me!" The boy sobbed frantically.
"Calm down, kiddo. Tell us what's wrong." Connor said softly, trying to sooth the panicked child.
"He's trying to kill me!" The boy sobbed.
"Who's trying to kill you?" I asked startled, my back turned to the alleyway.
The boy looked back into the alleyway, and his eyes widened and he pointed shakily into it.
"H-Him." He whimpered frightened.
We all turned to look at what he was pointing at. Jude and Connor tensed, and Connor lifted the boy and placed him behind us for protection. Harry moved in front of them, and I took a step forward, my eyes wide.
The man was tall. Dressed head to toe in black. He wore a balaclava, and he wielded a machete.
It was the Stalker.
The boy continued his sobbing. He clung to Connor from behind in horror, and begged for him not to let go.
"Stay behind me." Connor said softly but sternly, "If we tell you to, you run. We'll keep you safe. Got it?"
The boy nodded and looked at the Stalker in horror as the killer looked straight at him and took a step forward.
I drew my blade from its sheathe and pointed it straight at him, steady and level with his throat. Jude and Connor draw there pistols and point them at him shakily.
His head turned and he stared directly at me.
"If you know what's go for you, you'll give me the boy." He growled.
I shivered imperceptibly. I felt rage coursing through my veins as I stared down the slime that had been terrorizing my family and the entire city of San Diego for months.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll turn around and walk away." I countered in a deadpan tone before turning to the other four, "I'll handle this. Jude, call the police."
"None of you are going anywhere." The killer snarled, "That little sodomite deserves everything that's coming to him. If I have to go through you, then so be it."
"You must be either brave or foolish." I sneered, "One crazed lunatic against two armed gay couples. Jude, Connor, Harry?"
"Yeah?" Harry responded, his voice shaking.
I sunk into an offensive stance, my blade directed straight at the Stalker.
"Protect the boy. At any cost." I growled, and stepped forward, "I'll take care of this."
I spun on the balls of my feet, my blade flashing through the air at a diagonal aimed at my opponent's neck. Instead of making purchase with his flesh, it sliced only air as he stepped back a pace causing the slice to miss. I used the momentum to send me into another spin and with a snarl I slashed viscously at his exposed left arm. He turned slightly and parried the blow with his machete.
"BE CAREFUL DANNY!" Jude screamed at me.
He aimed a chop at my face, which I blocked with ease and retaliated with an attempt to stab at his chest, which was also blocked. I swing the sheathe at his head and he ducked it, just barely blocking the blow to his leg that my sword was close to making. Again and again, we slashed and hacked at each other, parrying and retaliating, and trying to land a blow on the other. Again and again he tried to inch toward Connor, Jude and Harry, who still stood guarding the child. I continued to push him away from them. His form was sloppy and uncoordinated. He was basically as skilled in this style of fighting as a gorilla wailing at a target with a baseball bat. Our duel continued uninterrupted for almost ten minutes. I was basically playing with him until the cops arrived, and when from behind us I heard the wail of police car sirens ring out, I decided that it was time to end this.
The police had arrived, and I saw the Stalker's eyes widen in fear and rage, and he raised his machete above his head and chopped it down, aiming to split my head, but my sword rose to meet it. The blades met with a clang, and we locked swords momentarily. I broke the lock and stepped back spinning and placing a round house kick to his chest, which sent him to the ground and sent his machete flying behind him. He started crawling towards it, but I kept up the assault. I swung the sword at him continuously, and he rolled and dived out of the way so that it kept clanging off the ground.
He reached his machete, and raised it just in time to block a chop at his chest as he got to his feet. I aimed a slash at his leg, which he moved to block, but I feinted and redirected the blow to his shoulder. The blow landed, slicing through the skin of his shoulder. He let out a scream of pain and barely managed to intercept the next blow. Our blades locked, and with a bust of force I shoved the blade of the machete to the side and slashed sideways at his face. Again, contact was made, slicing through his balaclava and the skin beneath it. It sent him back, clutching his face. I brought the cane body up, and it collided with the back of his head, sending him to the ground unconscious.
Everything was silent. I produced a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped the blood from the blade of the sword. I slid it back into its sheathe, locking it into place. I barely noticed the cops rushing forward and securing the bastard, ripping the balaclava from his head and handcuffing is hands behind his back. I turned back to my best friends and my husband.
Connor was still being clung to by the kid, who was looking at me with wide disbelieving eyes. I cautiously approached the group, and I turned to Harry. I held my arms out and motioned for him to come to me. He moved forward without hesitation and wrapped his arms around me. I placed a kiss to the side of his head. I let go of him and moved to kneel before the boy who still stood with his face buried in Connor's chest.
"You alright, kiddo?" I asked.
The boy peaked at me, and nodded shakily.
"Good." Connor said gently, regaining his attention, "Let's get you to a doctor yeah? You look like you're gonna pass out."
The boy looked terrified for a moment, but knew that he wasn't going to get out of it.
"Don't worry, bud." I assured him, "My friend here? He's a doctor. One of the best in the city. We'll take care of you. I promise."
The boy looked at all of us cautiously for a moment before nodding.
"Okay." He whimpered.
"You have a name, buddy?" Jude asked.
The boy looked at us, still cautious.
"M-Mikey. My name's Mikey."