ACT ONE: EARLY TO FALL

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE END OF THE LINE

9:52 PM...

Jon was high as a kite. After managing to kill three more people with his bare hands, he had stumbled across a hand axe. Thinking how fortunate it was to stumble across such a worthy weapon, he applauded himself at his stumbling ability. This city was dangerous. It most certainly wasn't the type of famed city where kittens frolicked through meows... Some how, that thought amused himself to the point of hysteria.

Jon was still in Innocentz turf, but he didn't know that. He knew he was having the time of his life. Not life time, but time life. And it was just that. He was having the time of his life by taking the life of others. By force. How ironic.

Slaughter, the sport of kings- he thanked his lucky stars he'd eaten his Wheaties this morning... Or was that a year ago? Oh hell, time didn't matter! All he knew was that he was going to be late for SOMETHING if he kept lollygagging about.

There was a noise to his left, and sure enough, another one of those Godless creatures was standing, oblivious to the world. So, Jon did the only thing he thought was right, and pranced right up behind him. Emulating the stereotypical ballerina for his own comical amusement. During this, he was rather inhumanly silent. He simply tapped the man on the shoulder, and when he turned to face Jon, his face met the sharpened wedge being slammed into it. The two fractions, the metal axe and the flesh-and-bone face, had a disagreement. One which the axe truly took the cake on, splitting the skull asunder in light of the fact that titanium by-product is harder than calcium and marrow. The body fell down dead, and Jon stood there with more blood on him. Smiling, he had a brief giggle fit, but soon recovered. He always loved to giggle; put him more in touch with his feminine side. This was also, coincidentally, the part of his persona he used as an excuse to justify the masochistic pleasure he often put himself through.

It occurred to the young man only then that his hormones were raging, and needed rapid appeasement. Suddenly finding himself wishing he had fought those bastards off... He could have easily killed them, and then had Sally all for himself. Ah, beautiful Sally... Even in death she was beautiful... Hell, more so than in life! The lacerations and the beads of sweat rolling off her pale forehead, all so alive considering she wasn't! He could take in every detail for hours, if only for the sake of being near her! Ah yes, simply stroking her lifeless form gently- the wonders! She could not resist, she loved him- didn't she? Of course! And who didn't? Aside from those who hated Jon, but of course. Oh, to curve the pale lips into a smile, see her happy! That's all he really wanted to do, right? Right! Please the woman, make her feel GOOD! But he didn't- they did. And this, this was criminal.

But quite alright, they paid for their debauchery of an angel accordingly.

Damn it all! That is what he should have done! It didn't matter if she was dead or not, despite when they are alive it was more fun, he could have fucked her anyway... He couldn't now, only due to he didn't know where the he was... That sucked, but he had been in worse situations... But this emotional instability, it got old at times. He was purely conscious of wanting to rape Sally one moment and hug her gently from behind the next, very aware of his own mind. He could see where it was going, but never stop it. No matter, came in handy sometimes, the urges for violence.

He reached down, and picked up some spare clips from the man who he just wasted, and slid them in his other empty pocket. Wonderful. A hand axe, switchblade, a pistol, and ammo to boot. The pistol was the Glock his lady-love acquired earlier, he assumed. Not the best gun in the world, but it would do until he found something better... Not exactly an aficionado of firearms, but certainly familiar with them, the boy found himself wishing for anything better. A SIG-Sauer P220, his personal preference for the sleek aluminum frame, was the top thing on his mind.

Ah! And what's this? A sign, a sign of properties divine! Property divine more likely, the Carcer City Zoo to be specific. Is that where they kept folks like him? Because he sure got called an animal frequently enough, it seemed to make sense. No matter, the establishment of fuzzy things to behold and crucify was but a mile from his present location. He'd always wanted to crucify a chimpanzee, if not for anything more than a good insult to Christianity. That and crucifying anything at all seemed like great fun.

After giving the man a somewhat proper burial, Hiro continued through the junkyard, dispatching whoever got in his way. This was something that needed to be done. At this point, he didn't care if the gang caught him and killed him. So long as he could take down as many of these red neck bigots as possible in the process... That would make it so he wouldn't have died in vein...

Fucking Starkweather... I swear to God I'm going to rip you apart... But that's what you want, isn't it you prick? You want my animal urges up. You want me to kill as many of these fucks in a short time period... But don't worry... I'll make sure to satisfy your sick, twisted urge... I guess it's the only kind thing I'll ever do for you... Right before I rip you apart...

I'll make sure to kill you slowly... Very slowly; sliding a knife across every part of your body, letting you scream with pain... Letting you slowly bleed to death right there... How wonderful that would feel...

No! I can't think like that... Feel? God... That's how psychos think... Killing Starkweather is one thing... Torturing him to death is another... It doesn't matter if he deserved it or not... I only have one of two options... Arrest him, or kill him. No torture. No pleasure... I won't do anything sadist-

His thoughts were cut off at the sound of footsteps on gravel perhaps twenty feet in front of him.

Shit... You've done it now, Yamada...

He turned to run when a bright light flashed on, temporarily blinding him, followed by the cock of automatic rifles. When his vision recovered, he saw that he was surrounded. Not by fat, racist pigs... But by Special Forces.

"Drop your fucking weapons, and lay yourself flat on the fucking ground!" The unknown figure screamed loudly.

Fucking hell... Smooth move...

"I said drop your fucking weapons," he screamed even louder than before, "and get your fucking ass on the fucking ground! NOW!"

Hiro slowly dropped his weapons, and kicked them to the side. Continuing to follow their instructions, he laid himself flat on his stomach, face touching the floor.

One of the men walked up and handcuffed him. Before he could comprehend what to do, he was yanked to his feet and shoved towards the light.

"Asshole..."

"What was that?!"

Pain seared through his back as one of the Special Forces hit him with the butt of his gun. He looked up to try to get a look at the guy, but his face was quickly bagged.

It appeared they didn't want him to know where he was going, so they placed what appeared to be a burlap bag over his head.

Damnit... I can't see shit...

He could hear them, however... Barely... He heard something about midnight, and zoo... Everything was mumbled gibberish. He felt them lift him up, and throw him into something... Most likely a van...

A large, Caucasian male sat silently in a seedy hotel room... He wore a black wife beater, black cargo pants, and black boots... Methodically, he rubbed his pistol, a Desert Eagle, with a small cloth... To his right lay a white hockey mask with red markings on it. Next to it was his trusty combat knife, and a pair of black, fingerless gloves... He showed no emotion… This was what he would do just about every night he was to be involved with a Valiant Video production...

Something beeped, and the man, who preferred to be called Mr. Nasty, reached into his pocket and withdrew a cellular phone. He opened it, and grunted.

"Ah, Mr. Nasty... It's a pleasure doing business with you once again..." Starkweather said.

"Thank you, Lionel." His voice was gruff, and sounded as if he had perhaps one too many cigarettes.

"I do happen to have some work for you tonight... There happen to be quite a few actors who don't seem to be behaving as well as they should... So I figured you'd like to... Enlighten them..."

"It'll me an honor, Lionel... How soon do you need me?..."

"Well... I don't think we'll start till around midnight... But if it isn't too much trouble, I'd like you to come down to the house and take a look at some of the footage I got... It's pretty special... The Innocentz actual-"

"Please, Lionel... Don't tell me the details... I'd love to see it for myself and be surprised..."

"Ha ha... That's my boy... When do you think you'll be here?"

"Well... Ten minutes good enough?"

"Perfect... I'll see you in a few."

"Yes. Goodbye, Lionel."

Mr. Nasty closed the phone slipped back into his pocket. Cracking his back as he stood, he walked over to the table and picked up his knife and gloves, and then proceeded to walk out the door.

They had never seen anything like it in their lives...

After wandering around the Hoods territory for awhile, stumbled across something that shocked them to the core.

It was a man who had been nailed to a fence and had a crowbar through his legs. It was a mock crucifixion...

"Holy shit..." Vincent muttered in disbelief...

Gab gagged, and covered her mouth. "Even if he is a gang member... We can't leave him like this..."

"Agreed... Shit... What could have done this?"

Vincent slowly walked to the body, and jumped back when the body looked up and screamed a horrific noise that was almost inhuman.

"It's still alive?!" Gab exclaimed.

The man writhed with agony, not being able to see a thing or speak coherently. The only words that they were able to understand were "stop!" and "please don't!". This was defiantly something.

Before they could help the poor man out in anyway shape or form, two vans pulled up at either end of the alley with their headlights beaming at them. Moments later, men garbed in body armor and wielding assault rifles and shotguns filled the alley with their guns pointing at the two of them.

"Shit!" Gab screamed.

"Fucking hell..." Vincent muttered

One of the Special Forces members looked over towards the man closest to his van.

"Notify Mr. Starkweather that subjects McNeil and Renau have been located."

Victor had his M4 aimed right between the eyes of subject 'McNeil'. If he tried anything, he'd pull the trigger without so much as a "Good day to you!" Not because he wanted to... No... It was because it was expected of him

There was only one way to look at it... This was a paycheck... He didn't know what Starkweather was up to, but he had a bad feeling that something bad would happen if he started asking too many questions...

Damn... That chick is hot... Anyone who said otherwise would be either gay, blind, or a lying son-of-a-bitch... But she's got a bat... She could very well bee a feminist, and an armed feminist was the worse variety by far

"Toss your bat to the side, Miss Renau" said Meyers in a commanding tone.

It seemed she could follow directions, because without hesitation, she followed his orders precisely, dotting every I and crossing every T. She wasn't scared, nor was she nervous. She was cool, and calm... It seemed as if she has had a gun pointed at her on many before... She was a pro... A pro at what, though?

Vincent looked at McNeil and motioned his gun towards him.

"You, do the same with your black jack. You try anything funny, and you'll be greeted with hollow points and buckshot.McNeil resisted to a degree, Vincent a dirty look in the process.

"Alright, cuff the girl." Meyers commanded.

Three men walked over towards McNeil, while Vincent and another walked towards the bombshell.

"I don't want to hurt you," Vincent said calmly, "but I will if you resist... Now... Get on your knees, and place your hands behind your head."

There was the sound of a scuffle behind him, and knew it was the sound of McNeil putting up a fight of some kind.

She didn't flinch at all, and did exactly what she was told...

Good... She has brains...

Grabbing her arms gently, he brought them to her back and handcuffed her.

"Alright... Get up... Slowly..."And she did. He looked to his right and saw that McNeil was putting up quite a fight.

"FUCK YOU!" he screamed.

Four other men rushed over and proceeded to join the fray, beating him with their clubs and the butts of their rifles. Seven in all to take down one man. After about a minute of this, the group dispersed save for one man handcuffing the now unconscious man. He, and another, helped pick up McNeil and drag him to one of the two vans, blood trickling forth from his head during the process.

Vincent slowly escorted Renau to one of the vans, and placed her in the back.

"Travis, Meyers wants to see you" came a voice from behind.

Vincent proceeded to turn around and walk straight towards Meyers, halting and saluting once he reached him.

"Sir!"

"Travis, I want you to escort the woman to the Mall. Got that?" Meyers said.

"Uhm, sir... Why the mall, sir, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I do mind you asking. Buckle the fuck up and follow orders soldier. Take the woman to the mall. NOW."

Meyers turned around and walked off to talk with some of the other men.

Asshole...

Edward had decided to take a look back at his perfect crucifix when he saw the two of them... The man… Ha... Easy to dispatch... The woman... Oh... The woman... He wanted to get into her pants so badly it hurt... Before he could act upon any of these urges, however, two vans screamed to a halt at either side of the alley. Luckily for him, he was on the top of the building... He wanted to get a bird's eye view of the masterpiece he had created.

The thing that amazed him the most wasn't the fact that there were Special Forces... It was the fact that the man was still alive after being crucified, and shot in the eyes with a nail gun…

The human body is a resilient fucker... Perhaps I'll take up torture as a side project... I seem to be good at it, and it was quite entertaining...

Wow... That man is putting up quite the fight... This should be on TV or something... World's Most Vicious Police beatings... I bet this would surpass even Rodney King... Ha ha...

It's also interesting that they aren't forcing their way upon the woman... I guess the police, or whoever they are, have some form of "No Rape" rule, or something to that effect... Hmm... Curious...

The two of them were put into separate vans, and after five minutes or so, the vans drove off in different directions.

It didn't matter...They didn't affect him, though he would have loved to have been closer to the woman...Ah well, he can always find someone else.

Vallen, Carlos, and Ashley had finally reached the apartment complex she had mentioned earlier…

Fuck... This area is pack full of those Smilies... Stupid whore... You've brought us to our doom!

"Here it is," she said, "I can't promise anything... I only walked past it."

"It's better than nothing... We can maybe get a few hours of rest while one of us keeps guard..." Vallen muttered.

Shit... I'll have to play along with these two idiots... If I kill Vallen now, I'd risk alerting the rest of those damn Smiles... Fuck I hate them!

"May I suggest that I take the first watch, with you and Hector resting. I'm a bit tired, but you two could use the rest more than I could."

"Thank you, Robert." Said Ashley.

"Yeah, thanks holmes..."

The three off them stepped into the building, and proceeded to go up the stairs... It didn't appear that anyone was there, and if there was, they'd probably gain the upper hand quickly... There wasn't much, if anything, they could do...