"Just so you know......" the voice hissed in Dutch's ear, " this is your payback for letting that rat bastard get away with what he did to my little girl.....when we're through with you, you're gonna wish you had caught him sooner." Unable to see anything upon regaining consciousness on account of having been blindfolded, Dutch attempted to make a mental account of the voice he was hearing; he knew it had to be the father of Mya, the little girl whom Armadillo had raped, but he had been unable thus far to see the man's face. The next thing he knew, he was being gagged.
"Listen here, esai," the voice began; at the same moment, someone was holding up Dutch's right hand, and rubbing his fingers harshly. "You make any noise, and we break a finger......you run out of fingers, and we start on the bigger bones. You got me?" His heart now trip-hammering in his chest, Dutch nodded; just then, the darkness he was becoming familiar with was occluded with stars, as he was greeted with a blow to the stomach. "Oh...did I forget to tell you? Any crying or giving us any trouble gets you a kick in the abdomen.....so if I were you, I'd sit there, and take your punishment like a man......'cause next time, I might aim a little higher with that kick...or a little lower." By this time, it was all Dutch could do to keep quiet; his head was spinning, and he felt violently ill from the taste of the blood that had now collected in his mouth. No sooner had he had the time to realize all of this, than he felt himself being pulled up off the ground, and being made to stand.
"Stand still!" the voice demanded; at this point, Dutch had no way of knowing if he was even standing on his feet, or if he was leaning against something. His head was continuing to spin violently, and he had no way to balance himself since his hands had been tightly bound behind his back. Just then, his stomach lurched as he felt his belt being unbuckled, and then his pants being undone; within a matter of seconds, they were down around his ankles, along with his underwear. "Get him ready," he then heard the voice order, at which point, he was being forced to walk forward.
"C'mon- move your ass, dammit!" another, rougher voice, demanded, as a set of hands shoved Dutch from behind; a few moments later, he felt something directly in front of him, though he was unable to make out what it was at the moment.
"Bend over," the first voice growled in Dutch's ear, as his hands were, for the moment, being untied; by now, Dutch was unable to hold back any longer, and had begun sobbing. "Ohhhhh........looks like we're about to lose a finger, here, boys," the voice cooed in mock-sympathy; up until then, Dutch had somehow been able to fight off the overwhelming urge to vomit, an urge that finally won out with the sickening snap of his left pinky finger. Unfortunately, the gag was so far into his mouth that not a whole lot of the vomit was able to leave his mouth; instead, it wound up dripping out around the gag. Suddenly, the next blow to his stomach came from out of nowhere, although he had known to expect it if he vomited, but he simply couldn't help it. He was now thrashing his head from side to side, fighting in vain against the gag, which continued to block the release of the blood and vomit from his mouth. He then felt his upper body being pushed down, and he could feel that he was now bent over something; he also felt his hands being tied to something directly in front of him, rendering him unable to move.
"Here's where the fun starts, boys...." the voice piped up; with those words spoken, Dutch could hear the sounds of one of the men undoing their pants, and he then felt his own legs being spread apart and held tight at the ankles so that he couldn't move them. "Payback time, bitch," the voice hissed in Dutch's ear; just then, his entire being was racked with pain as he felt the owner of the voice ram his enormous manhood into him over and over again, oblivious to the fact that Dutch's opening was much to small to accommodate an object that size.
"Looky there- we busted the copper's cherry!" one of the other voices announced, as the forcefulness of the act had almost immediately summoned forth blood from the orifice, as it was unused to this type of activity. Dutch, as a result of the ungodly bolts of pain that were now shooting up from his backside and seizing his entire abdomen, was now sobbing uncontrollably, having long forgotten about the threats that had been made against his fingers and stomach. Before long, his captors had orchestrated a twisted cacophony; with each thrust into him, Dutch cried out in agony- in turn, each cry was punctuated by the breaking of yet another finger. The snapping of his left thumb was accentuated by the owner of "the voice", as Dutch had dubbed him, who simultaneously cried out in sick ecstasy as he came inside Dutch, who, by this time, was becoming exhausted from continually screaming and sobbing. As he felt the man pull out, Dutch silently prayed that this would be the end of his torture, but to no avail. No sooner had "the voice" removed his now-flaccid penis from Dutch's rectum, another of the men was right there to take his place; even worse, this guy felt twice as big as "the voice" had been. "Stop- wait a second," the voice suddenly interjected; with that, Dutch said a small prayer of thanks. "Take the gag off." As much as Dutch wanted to believe that maybe this was a sign that they were letting up on him, his hopes were immediately dashed when the other men began laughing at the request, despite the fact that they had proceeded in removing the gag. "We're gonna do things a little different now......untie him, and bring him over here."
"Aw, c'mon, boss...I was just gettin' warmed up," said the second perpetrator, as they untied his wrists, and dragged him over to where the voice had indicated.
"Don't worry....you'll get your turn.....but we're all gonna have fun at the same time," the voice sneered; before Dutch realized it, he was forced down onto his hands and knees on a cold cement floor that was rough and jagged. "See? Doggy-style!" the voice laughed. Leaning over to Dutch, he continued : " Don't worry, esai- it's a little cold, but we wouldn't want you to get rug-burn!" His statement did little to appease Dutch, whose swollen and discolored fingers were screaming out in angry protest to having any amount of pressure placed on them; he made an attempt to lift his hands up, but was crudely shoved back down. "Sorry, esai- you're gonna hafta deal with it....besides, pain leads to pleasure, eh?" Punctuating his sentiment with a wicked laugh, he then addressed his cronies: "Okay, here's the new game....you get to bang him from behind, and our little copper here is gonna join in the fun, too....open your mouth, bitch," he snarled in Dutch's ear. "We didn't plan on not letting you have any fun...we're more civilized than that....see, while this guy here is doing you up the ass, you're gonna be suckin' off this other guy here- got that? Now open your mouth," the voice growled; his entire frame trembling uncontrollably, Dutch held out , refusing to comply with their demands, despite the fact that he knew there would be hell to pay for doing so. Suddenly, there was the unmistakable feeling of the opening of a gun barrel against his temple, and the audible click of the hammer being cocked. "I said open your mouth, motherfucker," the voice growled; to their dismay, Dutch's compliance with the request resulted in his vomiting once again.
"Awww-- son-of-a-BITCH!!! These are my good shoes, man! That's it- lift him up!" Apparently, Dutch had wound up vomiting on the voice's shoes, from what he was able to gather; at that moment, he felt someone grab him from behind, looping their arms under his, and jerking him up off the ground.
"You're gonna pay for that, bitch....welcome to "time-out" !" the voice growled; in the next moment, Dutch caught a fist full in the face, a blow which succeeded in breaking his nose. His captor then began to set him back down, but was stopped. "No--hold him there.....I'm not through yet." The stars suddenly returned to Dutch's blackened vision tenfold, as he received a swift kick to his groin; he immediately felt his legs give way underneath him, and it seemed as though his captor was about to lower him to the ground. "Hey....did I say I was finished? Did I tell you to put him down?" A few seconds of silence, and then a second devastating blow to his groin, courtesy of a steel-toed boot. "Now you can put him back down."
With that, Dutch was lowered back to the cold cement, where he immediately curled into a fetal position, in a world of pain, but thankful his broken hands were free, as he cradled his wounded manhood. "Okay, that's enough.....get him back into position," the voice demanded; although every inch of his lower body was sheer agony, and fiery shards of pain were radiating up both his arms from the broken fingers, they soon had him back down on all fours. "Now.....where were we? Oh, yeah.....that's right....open up, copper," the voice began, once again pressing the cold steel of the gun barrel against Dutch's temple. At that moment, the full sum of every unbearable agony he was feeling wanted to have him simply cry out to the gun's owner to pull the trigger, to end it all then and there. Then, once he was dead, they could have their way with him, whatever heinously sick and twisted ideas they may want to entertain. "C'mon, esai......open ....your mouth," came the demand once again, accentuated with the barrel being shoved a bit harder into his temple; his body wanted a swift and final resolution to the current situation, yet he made the decision not to give in to that temptation. Instead, he had an odd thought enter his head- one that he had no way of knowing had been uttered aloud before then by Armadillo himself: 'What doesn't kill me.....' With this sudden new resolution, he finally conceded, and opened his mouth, his tastebuds becoming coated with the coppery taste of blood from his broken nose. "It's about time- you were starting to piss me off.......by the way?" the voice lamented, "try any funny stuff, and we're gonna have us another "time-out" session....believe me, you don't want another "time-out".......Okay, your turn, homey!" the voice crowed.
"Damn, man- it's about time....I ain't had none in a while- I need it bad," came the voice from behind Dutch; while he braced himself as best he could for what he knew was coming, he was abruptly choked off by the third perp, who had suddenly shoved his fully-erect penis into Dutch's open mouth, an action that caused Dutch to start gagging.
"What's the matter, copper? My "boy" too big for you?" the perp asked him with a laugh; he then backed himself out of Dutch's mouth a little. "Okay, there you go--now suck it, bitch." At that moment, Dutch was about to begin sobbing once again, but the tears had no time to escape his puffy, reddened eyes before the second perp commenced his turn at anal sex with him; the result of the man's enormous penis being thrust into Dutch's opening was a wicked stinging and burning sensation that literally took Dutch's breath away for a moment. Just then, he heard the unmistakable sound of a switchblade being opened next to his ear. "C'mon, motherfucker.....start suckin', or I start cuttin'.....I'm losing patience," came the newest threat, driven home by the man drawing the razor-sharp blade across Dutch's right cheek, conjuring up a stinging trail of blood ; his stomach offering up every imaginable churn and slosh of protest, he began to suck the man off. In an effort to try to make his current predicament somewhat bearable, Dutch tried his hardest to continually repeat those same words to himself over and over again: 'What doesn't kill me......what doesn't kill me.....what doesn't kill me.....' A few moments later, it felt to Dutch as though a thousand wasps had been turned loose inside his rectum, free to sting every inch of torn meat, and wasting no time in doing so; he was unaware that the perp behind him had already shot his load into him. Just then, there was an audible moan of sick pleasure from the perp in front of him, and Dutch felt his mouth being flooded with hot cum .... God, he wanted to vomit. Once the man had removed himself from Dutch's mouth, he leaned over to Dutch.
"Now don't forget to be a good boy, and swallow," he taunted; rather than comply, Dutch suddenly spat the vile fluid out all over the man, not caring what kind of horrific punishment was to follow. His action was instantly countered by a vicious left hook to his jaw, a blow which knocked a few of his teeth loose; sputtering helplessly, he spat out a mouthful of blood.
"Oh, I see-- you like it in "time-out"......well, we're more than happy to accomodate you," the voice announced; with that, he was lifted off the ground once again, and his already- throbbing groin received yet another hard blow, followed almost immediately by an equally-devastating blow to his lower rib cage. At this point, Dutch was far too exhausted to offer up any sort of self-defense , and his consciousness was now teetering in and out. "Okay, boys......this is it, so let's make a good impression, eh? Anything is game now," came the command from "the voice". With that, the three commenced in yet more damage to Dutch's bruised and broken body; he suddenly felt the bones in his lower arms being snapped in half, and the last shred of consciousness he had finally gave in to the overwhelming agony.
"This is the address.....the lady that called in said something about hearing something that sounded like screaming coming from inside......let's hope she's not right." Claudette, standing outside the front door to the run-down dwelling, made the announcement to the uniformed officers that flanked her, guns drawn and at the ready. She felt confident with them backing her, but it was not the same without her partner there. Dutch had been the main reason that she had offered to follow up on the anonymous tip; he had not come in to work that morning, and it was now five-thirty in the evening, a time when most of the department personnel had already gone home for the evening. "Y'know, that god-awful bug has been going around lately....maybe Dutch caught it, and he's just home sick in bed- if that's the case, he may be too sick to do anything, let alone call in....." she had mentioned to Aceveda that morning. "C'mon, son....you know as well as I do that Dutch is always here on time-- he's missed one day so far, and that's because he was out with a bad case of stomach flu.....although he did manage to call in that day."
"Well, let's hope that's all it is......this isn't like Dutch," Aceveda replied before walking off.
'No...it isn't,' she had thought to herself, looking worriedly towards her partner's empty desk.
Now, standing outside this god-forsaken place, she was doing all she could to stifle the thought that this call had something to do, either indirectly or otherwise, with Dutch. "Okay- two of you check out back...everyone else, follow me," she ordered. When the usual knock on the door and announcement of the police being outside failed to initiate any response, Claudette gave the signal, and one of the uni-cops proceeded to kick the door in; given the structure's poor condition, the task proved to be an easy one, as the door gave on the first attempt. Her flashlight in one hand, and her gun in the other, Claudette entered the dwelling first; the ungodly stench of mildew assailed her nostrils, making her cough. The place was empty, save for a few empty milk crates gathered around a large empty wooden crate- a makeshift table and chairs. As she made her way through the house, the other officers close behind her, she found no sign of anyone else there; the other two rooms were small and equally bare, yielding only stained walls and horribly soiled carpeting. "Well, so much for our anonymous tip," she said with a sigh.
"Detective! We found something out back you might wanna take a look at," Officer Tomlin announced from the front doorway; wasting no time, Claudette and the other officers immediately made a beeline for the backyard. There, Tomlin pointed to what appeared to the untrained eye to be nothing more that the entrance to a storm shelter; it had been haphazardly covered by a stack of old tires. "A tornado shelter in the middle of Los Angeles? Let's hope this is worth more to us than the house was," Claudette mused, signaling to one of the officers to open the door on the supposed shelter. Once the door was lifted, Claudette immediately noticed a set of concrete steps leading down much further than an ordinary storm shelter would go. Her curiosity peaked, she cautiously began to make her way down the stairs, the beam from her flashlight guiding her every step. If the house had smelled bad, Claudette noted, this place smelled ten times worse; there was a strong smell of mildew, as there had been inside, but in here, there were other unpleasant scents.....and for some reason, a couple of them seemed to her sense of smell to be fairly recent, although there was no way of telling for sure. As she went further down, the familiar smell of stale urine presented itself, along with the lingering stench of cigarettes.....but what was this other smell she couldn't put a finger on? It was familiar, yet it wasn't.
"Everything okay, Detective?" one of the officers asked from behind her.
"So far, so good," Claudette replied half-heartedly; truth told, she was too busy attempting to identify the scent that was suddenly hanging around her. So many cases she'd been on, so many times she'd been to countless crime scenes--dammit, what was it? As she took another step down, she shone the flashlight straight ahead towards the wall near floor level; the several-year-old paint job had long since begun to flake away, but the walls were still a dingy white nevertheless. Moving the beam slowly across the wall, she was suddenly taken aback by what the light had hit; a grisly cascade of blood, some dried and some fresh, leading down the wall to a dark and viscid pool on the cement floor. "Someone call for back-up!" she suddenly commanded. Looking back, she reached the bottom step, and slowly guided the light beam from the pool of blood up the wall; what the beam found in the next few seconds caused Claudette to feel as though the very earth she stood on was about to give way underneath her, if it hadn't already.
"Detective? What is that?" came the concerned voice from behind her, startling her out of her wits.
"Don't come down here! I want you to go back up, and get Captain Aceveda on the phone- NOW, please....and call in an RA--hurry!" she commanded the uni-cops, who immediately retreated up the cement steps to carry out her bidding; as she listened to the retreating footsteps, she silently prayed to God that they weren't too late.