Yay! New part 4 is up! Enjoy! Normal disclaimer, yadda yadda, enjoy!
Damien sat up watching tv for a few hours while his father left. To be with her. The woman who masquaraded as his mother, always asking him about his day, his feelings. But he couldnt tell her his feelings, that kind lady. His father cared about her too much, and he knew that if he told the truth, it would explode out of him. How much he missed his mother. How he hated to see his father with another woman. How his father was changing from the strong, loving idol that his son had always known to a man begining to feel the tight pull of age, absorbing himself in his bussiness and relationship. But Damien never said this. He was always 'feeling just fine, thanks.' After all, Emma was a very nice person, tall and pretty, in her early 40s, who enjoyed being a kindergarden teacher in one of the cleaner parts of the city. She was as decent a woman as you could ever find in a place where crime was a daily event that most just tried to avoid. But she wasn't his mother. He wanted his family back. He wanted the days back in the suburbs, playing on the lawn with his mother, catching butterflies before going off to 1st grade, then running to his father as they arrived home at the same time, to both run, laughing, to tackled his mother with hugs. It was hard.
Damien glanced at the clock suddenly, begining to wonder where his father was. It was midnight. His dad was always home by 10:30, no matter what. Damien got up worriedly, wondering if perhaps his father had fallen asleep at his desk. He grabbed his jacket and stepped purposfully out the door, making sure to bolt it. He swung his leg over the seat of his black motorcycle, his 16th birthday present, when he'd gotten his permet. Honestly, he only argued about a car with his dad for fun. Really, he wouldn've been happy just ridding on his motorcycle everywhere. It sure got him alot of attention, when he rode down the back streets to school. The streets where every shadow hid a mugger, durg dealer, or prostitute. He avoided those streets, mostly. But it was the fastest way to his father's company building, Consico. His father was head of the bussiness department, dealing with the companies they sold their products to, and handling the profits and stocks. Consico was a weaponry technology company, they were directly connected to the government, and manufactured prototypes of high- tech weapons. But that was all Damien knew, his father didn't like to discuss his work. It was a major stress in his life, which he expelled by spending time with his son.
His bike roared in the dark streets, where it was oddly silent. Far off siens wailed somewhere, and cats yowled into the smog. It had started to rain lightly, but Damien didn't notice. All he could think about was the million different things that could be wrong...his father had a slight heart problem. Perhaps that was it. He rode for a few more minutes, untill a tall stone building loomed before him, rising high above the appartment buildings and garbage. Damien pulled his bike up to the curb and shut it off, jumping from the seat and taking the entrance stairs two at a time. The glass doors were locked, but he tried to open them anyway. He pasued for a moment to think. Maybe...maybe his father wasn't here. He might have gone home, or stoped at the store...or maybe he'd been locked in by the security guard, who left at 11. Damien fished around in his pocket and found the key, which his dad had left at home, not expecting to need to. Damien walked in quiety, trying not to let his boots echo in the wide reception area. The normally somewhat lively room seemed more like a cave, with still air and the black crouching forms of sofas in the corner. He crept past the main desk, where a swivel chai had been left a few feet away, and a half-empty can of pepsi on the table. It looked like someone had left in a hurry. He peered down at the grey camera consoles, which showed a few empty rooms and hallways, and switched every couple of seconds. No one, no one...there! Damien's eyes went wide, at the fuzzy picture that popped up. It was the material store room, and there was a group of 4 men, all standing in a circle around a chair. And in the chair was...no! Damien turned and ran for the stairwell, rushing to his father's aid. If he waited a second later, he would have seen the camera then focus on another hallway, this one not empty. There was the body of the security officer, apparently dead, and a pool of blood quickly staining the hall carpet.
Damien ran up the 6 flights of stairs with an energy he never knew. His mind had gone blank with shock, all he could think was to help his dad...those men would kill him for whatever reason if he didn't save him. Flashes of his father ran though his mind, while his hair flew back from his face as he jumped up every stair. He came to a pitch black hall, where the only light came from the red 'exit' sign at the other end. He felt along every door untill he heard voices. He paused, listenining for a moment.
''Listen, Bob, you've disapointed us for the last time.''
"Yeah...shame, isn't it. We needed those plans, and unfortunatly you didn't comply" Then his fathers voice came though the door, barely audible. He sounded garbled and weak, as he managed to whisper.
"I tried. The gorvernment..they lock their files...I...don't have access..." There came a loud crack, and his father's voice fell silent. One of the men hacked and spat.
"We really don't give a sh*t if you have 'access', old man. The boss wants his weapons. And you disapointed him. No one disapoints the boss." Damien opened the door slowly, praying it wouldn't squeek at all. He inched into the room, which was halfway filled with large crates. He ducked behind one and peered through the slats. There was the 4 men, like wolves circling their prey. His father's face was bloody and broken, his eyes were swollen shut. The duck tape that tied him to the rough cain was cutting into his wrists and feet, making them bleed. He could barely get a breath through his puffy, blood covered lips, and there was a deep gurgling in his throat. Only one light bulb shone, directly above the group, leaving Damien in a deep shadow. One of the men scratched his stubbly chin, and spit again, this time at his father's face. He didn't react. A large black man was shifting from foot to foot, cradling a large riffle. The 3rd and 4th men both had a handgun pointed at his father's head. One of them laughed. "Well,old guy, now you're in the way. Nighty-night." He cocked his gun and pointed it at the man's head. Damien reactivly threw himself foward, knocking a huge crate onto one of the men and tackling another. The man yelped in surprise, causing the gun to go off at the ceiling. The two other men looked around confused, drawing their guns autamatically. Damien grabed the man's throat, a rage unknown to him burned in his veins. He began to pound he man's head mercilessly against the concrete ground.
"Nobody ::slam:: will harm ::slam:: my father! ::slam::" The black man pulled himself up and lunged at Damien, grabbing the boy by the jacket and throwing him with surprising strength at the wall. He felt himself lifted, then a sharp pain to his head made everything go black.
When he woke up, at first the only thing he could understand was a pain, unlike any other pain, throbbing through his head. He tried to lift his hand, but he couldn't. When he finally managed to open his eyes, everything spun around him. A voice came from every direction tauntingly.
"What's the matter, hero? Head hurt?" Voices...all around him...laughing...spinning. He closed his eyes again and tried to focus. WHen he opened them, he could see where he was. The men had tied him to a chair with bungee cord, and they were in some sort of metal...pipe. The men were above him, on a small catwalk. A small groan made him turn. There was his father, tied to a chair beside him, battered a bruised but alive. He strained to escape, only to the laughter and jeering of the men above. Damien looked around more closely. There were holes...in the walls. Below them was a grate. " So...figure it out yet?" One guy called down. Damien glared up at them with hatred. "Yup. Smart kid. You're gonna die now! SO..." the man turned, still showing his decaying teeth in an ugly grin. "Y'all have a nice time in hell!" he reached over and hit a switch. All at once the ground began to shake, causing Damien's dad to groan even more.
"Dad?" Damien asked, trying to move towards his father. The old man opened his eyes a bit, and gave a weak smile.
"Damien...where...?" Damien struggled with all his remaining strength to break free, but it was no use. His father glanced around, and frowned confusidly. "Why aren't you at home...?" he said, slurring his words. Damien didn't respond. At that moment from all the holes in the wall came a black, heavy dust. It poured from every area, filling up the tunnel quickly. Damien screamed up at the men, one long scream of utter hate. Not just for what was happening, but for harming his father. The dust piled up like sand around their ankles...their feet. His father suddenly snapped awake. "We're in one of the machines!" He cried in realization. "The gunpowder chemicals..." he wailed, staring at the dust in horror. The man above just continued to laugh, pointing while the two struggled to lift their shoulders above the ever-rising dust. Damien looked at his dad with tears in his eyes, as it rose to his neck. "Dad.." the gunpowder covered his mouth, obscuring his father from his view. His life flashed across his memory, his mother, father, school, his first bike, Emma, the day his mom died, the past 3 hours...all in one second. The last two things Damien thought before his body suffocated were hatred for the men, whom he'd never seen before tonight, and had taken the most precisous thing away from him. His dad. He cried out silently in the powder, one last, mournful cry to his father, before everything went soft and dark, and the pain melted away. Somewhere outside, a crow cawed loudly.
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Damien sat up watching tv for a few hours while his father left. To be with her. The woman who masquaraded as his mother, always asking him about his day, his feelings. But he couldnt tell her his feelings, that kind lady. His father cared about her too much, and he knew that if he told the truth, it would explode out of him. How much he missed his mother. How he hated to see his father with another woman. How his father was changing from the strong, loving idol that his son had always known to a man begining to feel the tight pull of age, absorbing himself in his bussiness and relationship. But Damien never said this. He was always 'feeling just fine, thanks.' After all, Emma was a very nice person, tall and pretty, in her early 40s, who enjoyed being a kindergarden teacher in one of the cleaner parts of the city. She was as decent a woman as you could ever find in a place where crime was a daily event that most just tried to avoid. But she wasn't his mother. He wanted his family back. He wanted the days back in the suburbs, playing on the lawn with his mother, catching butterflies before going off to 1st grade, then running to his father as they arrived home at the same time, to both run, laughing, to tackled his mother with hugs. It was hard.
Damien glanced at the clock suddenly, begining to wonder where his father was. It was midnight. His dad was always home by 10:30, no matter what. Damien got up worriedly, wondering if perhaps his father had fallen asleep at his desk. He grabbed his jacket and stepped purposfully out the door, making sure to bolt it. He swung his leg over the seat of his black motorcycle, his 16th birthday present, when he'd gotten his permet. Honestly, he only argued about a car with his dad for fun. Really, he wouldn've been happy just ridding on his motorcycle everywhere. It sure got him alot of attention, when he rode down the back streets to school. The streets where every shadow hid a mugger, durg dealer, or prostitute. He avoided those streets, mostly. But it was the fastest way to his father's company building, Consico. His father was head of the bussiness department, dealing with the companies they sold their products to, and handling the profits and stocks. Consico was a weaponry technology company, they were directly connected to the government, and manufactured prototypes of high- tech weapons. But that was all Damien knew, his father didn't like to discuss his work. It was a major stress in his life, which he expelled by spending time with his son.
His bike roared in the dark streets, where it was oddly silent. Far off siens wailed somewhere, and cats yowled into the smog. It had started to rain lightly, but Damien didn't notice. All he could think about was the million different things that could be wrong...his father had a slight heart problem. Perhaps that was it. He rode for a few more minutes, untill a tall stone building loomed before him, rising high above the appartment buildings and garbage. Damien pulled his bike up to the curb and shut it off, jumping from the seat and taking the entrance stairs two at a time. The glass doors were locked, but he tried to open them anyway. He pasued for a moment to think. Maybe...maybe his father wasn't here. He might have gone home, or stoped at the store...or maybe he'd been locked in by the security guard, who left at 11. Damien fished around in his pocket and found the key, which his dad had left at home, not expecting to need to. Damien walked in quiety, trying not to let his boots echo in the wide reception area. The normally somewhat lively room seemed more like a cave, with still air and the black crouching forms of sofas in the corner. He crept past the main desk, where a swivel chai had been left a few feet away, and a half-empty can of pepsi on the table. It looked like someone had left in a hurry. He peered down at the grey camera consoles, which showed a few empty rooms and hallways, and switched every couple of seconds. No one, no one...there! Damien's eyes went wide, at the fuzzy picture that popped up. It was the material store room, and there was a group of 4 men, all standing in a circle around a chair. And in the chair was...no! Damien turned and ran for the stairwell, rushing to his father's aid. If he waited a second later, he would have seen the camera then focus on another hallway, this one not empty. There was the body of the security officer, apparently dead, and a pool of blood quickly staining the hall carpet.
Damien ran up the 6 flights of stairs with an energy he never knew. His mind had gone blank with shock, all he could think was to help his dad...those men would kill him for whatever reason if he didn't save him. Flashes of his father ran though his mind, while his hair flew back from his face as he jumped up every stair. He came to a pitch black hall, where the only light came from the red 'exit' sign at the other end. He felt along every door untill he heard voices. He paused, listenining for a moment.
''Listen, Bob, you've disapointed us for the last time.''
"Yeah...shame, isn't it. We needed those plans, and unfortunatly you didn't comply" Then his fathers voice came though the door, barely audible. He sounded garbled and weak, as he managed to whisper.
"I tried. The gorvernment..they lock their files...I...don't have access..." There came a loud crack, and his father's voice fell silent. One of the men hacked and spat.
"We really don't give a sh*t if you have 'access', old man. The boss wants his weapons. And you disapointed him. No one disapoints the boss." Damien opened the door slowly, praying it wouldn't squeek at all. He inched into the room, which was halfway filled with large crates. He ducked behind one and peered through the slats. There was the 4 men, like wolves circling their prey. His father's face was bloody and broken, his eyes were swollen shut. The duck tape that tied him to the rough cain was cutting into his wrists and feet, making them bleed. He could barely get a breath through his puffy, blood covered lips, and there was a deep gurgling in his throat. Only one light bulb shone, directly above the group, leaving Damien in a deep shadow. One of the men scratched his stubbly chin, and spit again, this time at his father's face. He didn't react. A large black man was shifting from foot to foot, cradling a large riffle. The 3rd and 4th men both had a handgun pointed at his father's head. One of them laughed. "Well,old guy, now you're in the way. Nighty-night." He cocked his gun and pointed it at the man's head. Damien reactivly threw himself foward, knocking a huge crate onto one of the men and tackling another. The man yelped in surprise, causing the gun to go off at the ceiling. The two other men looked around confused, drawing their guns autamatically. Damien grabed the man's throat, a rage unknown to him burned in his veins. He began to pound he man's head mercilessly against the concrete ground.
"Nobody ::slam:: will harm ::slam:: my father! ::slam::" The black man pulled himself up and lunged at Damien, grabbing the boy by the jacket and throwing him with surprising strength at the wall. He felt himself lifted, then a sharp pain to his head made everything go black.
When he woke up, at first the only thing he could understand was a pain, unlike any other pain, throbbing through his head. He tried to lift his hand, but he couldn't. When he finally managed to open his eyes, everything spun around him. A voice came from every direction tauntingly.
"What's the matter, hero? Head hurt?" Voices...all around him...laughing...spinning. He closed his eyes again and tried to focus. WHen he opened them, he could see where he was. The men had tied him to a chair with bungee cord, and they were in some sort of metal...pipe. The men were above him, on a small catwalk. A small groan made him turn. There was his father, tied to a chair beside him, battered a bruised but alive. He strained to escape, only to the laughter and jeering of the men above. Damien looked around more closely. There were holes...in the walls. Below them was a grate. " So...figure it out yet?" One guy called down. Damien glared up at them with hatred. "Yup. Smart kid. You're gonna die now! SO..." the man turned, still showing his decaying teeth in an ugly grin. "Y'all have a nice time in hell!" he reached over and hit a switch. All at once the ground began to shake, causing Damien's dad to groan even more.
"Dad?" Damien asked, trying to move towards his father. The old man opened his eyes a bit, and gave a weak smile.
"Damien...where...?" Damien struggled with all his remaining strength to break free, but it was no use. His father glanced around, and frowned confusidly. "Why aren't you at home...?" he said, slurring his words. Damien didn't respond. At that moment from all the holes in the wall came a black, heavy dust. It poured from every area, filling up the tunnel quickly. Damien screamed up at the men, one long scream of utter hate. Not just for what was happening, but for harming his father. The dust piled up like sand around their ankles...their feet. His father suddenly snapped awake. "We're in one of the machines!" He cried in realization. "The gunpowder chemicals..." he wailed, staring at the dust in horror. The man above just continued to laugh, pointing while the two struggled to lift their shoulders above the ever-rising dust. Damien looked at his dad with tears in his eyes, as it rose to his neck. "Dad.." the gunpowder covered his mouth, obscuring his father from his view. His life flashed across his memory, his mother, father, school, his first bike, Emma, the day his mom died, the past 3 hours...all in one second. The last two things Damien thought before his body suffocated were hatred for the men, whom he'd never seen before tonight, and had taken the most precisous thing away from him. His dad. He cried out silently in the powder, one last, mournful cry to his father, before everything went soft and dark, and the pain melted away. Somewhere outside, a crow cawed loudly.
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