Caged: Retribution

Chapter 17

Rico knew where he was going, knew every step, a map burned to memory. He had taken the route so many times that he thought he could walk there with his eyes closed. Blanco followed him, still a mad mess of hate, terror, pushing pushing, despite his seeming return to clarity. The King of the Mambo Kings eyed everyone he saw, rain-wet hair swinging, a hand tightened into a fist, black clothes… always in the black. He wanted to run to Caro's place, terrified time was wasting so every block Rico turned, walked backwards a moment or two and reminded him, "Tenemos tiempo… cálmate."

Didn't matter. His lover grunted and sniffed and snapped down on his teeth. "Time, time, time…fucking time..." Rico didn't want to run because running would draw attention. And an American looking like his lion did, hair wild, face full of threat, those American jeans… he would draw el monado faster than light. So no, can't run the streets of Havana where nobody runs unless they're being chased or on a racing team.

So he finally had to say it… stood immovable like a tree that forced Blanco to stop his push, curse, and look at him. "The fuck?!"

"Slow down or the police will start following us. Quieres eso? La policia? Look around, puto, no one runs!"

A quick sweep of where they were with his light eyes got Rico a huffed grunt of assent and then the usual command… "Just fuckin' walk."

Rico turned, got himself on a good pace without the run. He wanted to soothe Blanco, lay him back on a white-sheeted bed with the windows open, the patter of rain outside, and the ocean's hypnotic waves beyond. He wanted to touch his body, caress the tense muscles of his shoulders, chest, stomach and thighs, kiss his face, his lips, until that jaw stopped being so iron-tight. He wanted to unclench his fist, easily imagining the slow pulling apart of his long fingers, tasting each one, the scars of L-O-V-E cut into his knuckles… and there, finally, he wanted to feel the letting go throughout his body, and see the awakening on his face. Rico nearly smiled, hearing Blanco in his head, a growl full of heat and want, "Touch me…touch me now…" Then he imagined putting his mouth on his strained cock, or stroking him finally...an act that elicited the thing Rico adored, the relief, the desire, the reluctant truth of how good Blanco felt, yet how much he didn't want that goodness…

"Fuck."

That Rico could recreate their typical trysts so easily as he made his way to the murder of Caro should have bothered him, but it did not even cause him to blink an eye. THAT told a much truer story about who Rico was...

But there was no time to reflect because Téa waited for them, Esperanza waited.

Murder.

As they passed streets, Rico spied his very own painted dancing star stuck on a government office building, five stories up. The purple star stretched, feet out, arms out, smiling forever. Upwards looking. He breathed the rainy night's sea air and kept taking the steps. He balled his own hands into fists.

Tens of times he walked these streets next to Caro, through the rows of dock warehouses, to the building that once housed Durango Exports. And down in that basement, he played dead while Caro raped him because it was a favorite way for Caro to get sexual relief and that was Rico's job... to tend to Caro, to do what he wanted, when he wanted, playing a lover, a victim, a business partner, all to stay relevant and therefore alive.

The only thing Rico refused to do, the only ask that Rico earned the right to refuse was getting more boys into Caro's world.

You just need to share all that you have with them. It will be easy, my dearest Rico.

No, not this.

But you can choose your own friends, pick lovers.

No!

Oh Rico… anything, cariño. That is fine. There are others to do this job.

On that, Caro did not lie. So many others did that job.

But what difference? He stood by in silence as boys and girls were brought in, shipped in from all over the Americas, special emphasis on Spanish-speaking children. Rico did nothing to save them, to rescue them. He was as guilty as Caro in this way. A truth nobody admitted or talked about. His lion never acknowledged it, never lobbed such a spear at him. Never asked… why didn't you save them, mí mari, mí amor? Why didn't you call for help? Why didn't you choose a man who could rescue all of you?

He turned and walked backwards, watching Blanco who watched him back just the same.

"How much farther?!"

Turning back, facing ahead once more, Rico murmured In Spanish, "Not far, now… you see the docks?" He heard a grunt in response. "We are close."

Another block and they were in the sprawling collection of warehouses by the water. Rico turned again and said, "You do not really know me, león." There was no answer, his lover just eyed him with a grim look, unreadable. Keeping on with his survey of the buildings surrounding them, a few people working still. The few heading home.

Rico turned again and whispered to the rainy air, "You do not know my truth."

"I don't care about shit right now other than getting to Téa! Move!"

Yes, he was as guilty as Caro for failing to save the children who died in that basement. The hate Blanco had for Caro could be aimed right at Rico, too. If he knew, if he thought about it, if he asked the right questions, he would not stop the choking of Rico. He would end things the same as he wanted to end Caro. Rico squeezed shut his eyes and shook his head clear.

The abandoned building lay straight ahead. Durango Exports. Such a very special place. A very specific high for Caro. But for Rico… every time he lay in that darkness he saw the children killed there, heard their screams, and felt their eventual silence. In the dark, his tears were hidden. His own terror hidden. Why hadn't he torn himself from the bindings and tear those children away? Why didn't he grab the knives from the hands of the killers and use them on the killers themselves? Why didn't he help the children escape before the basement ever came into existence?

Why, why, why.

You were only a child.

You were equally in danger.

What could you possibly do?

Sorry…as Blanco would say in his most morose voice… sooooooo sorry.

He turned again and looked at his lion. Turned back again, tears in his eyes, a stupid wasted act of pity for his damned soul. He rubbed his neck where the Catholic medal used to be, now on Blanco's neck, Blanco in fact more innocent than Rico. He was more deserving of the protection.

I will eat him piece by piece.

The building now stood before them. Two stories. The dark green door was a heavy wood that kept out noise, unwanted visitors, the law. Todd was behind him and Rico felt heat, a hum of hate and anxiety. Then an iron grip on his shoulder.

"Open the door," Todd snapped. "The fuck!"

Like a robot, Rico unlocked the door to the Durango Exports building. When it swung open, the rain seemed to slow behind them. They stood in a dim corridor with a low ceiling and a string of electric lights, on and bright, stretching from one end to the other, from the left to the right. Stairwells heading up were at both ends. A door was to their right, ahead of them. The elevator loomed a few feet further down. The place had large loft-like spaces upstairs and those had the windows. So much that could have been.

But now abandoned, left alone. A killing place.

Todd couldn't take Rico's deliberate steps. "Where now?!" he hissed.

Rico walked to the single door and stuck a key into the lock. Turned it slowly, slowly, to keep the noise down, not wanting to alert Caro. It clicked noisily at the end and his heart skipped a beat. He stood many moments listening for Caro. He could hear the lion's breath, a shaky anxious sound. The silence from below continued and he opened the door, the hinges blessedly mute. He stared down into a dark muggy stairwell. The two men stood still and listened, hearing nothing but the gentle rain and undefined noise from the docks behind them, outside.

They had left the front green door open and Rico noticed neither turned back to it. Like it was their escape… and it needed to be open, a waiting door. Hope, really, that moments would follow these moments, that in fact there was a leaving of this building that would come.

He listened more and the quiet suddenly struck a chill in him. Maybe Caro wasn't here after all. Jesus, what if he was wrong this whole time? He turned suddenly and ran past Todd to the elevator near the other set of stairs. It was an old style cage elevator. Rico studied the sight before him a moment too long, Todd coming up from behind, a furious demand in his voice.

"What is it? The hell are you doing?"

Rico then said a bit breathlessly, "Nothing. He is here. The elevator car is down." His heart raced. Caro… was here. Meaning Téa was here, too. "We have found them."

As they headed once again down the stairwell, the air thick with trapped ocean air, Rico heard the edges of relief in his lover's breathing as if the killing had already happened, as if Téa was already in his embrace.

They hit the bottom step and Rico slipped the key in and turned it. Slowly, slowly. He opened the last door.


As soon as the door slid open, another gift of silence, there was Caro straight ahead…and beyond him sat Téa on the floor, along the wall. She was alive and there was no blood. No, no, she was furious and breathless with her own mad hate and Todd huffed hard, "Thank the fucking gods… Jesus fucking Christ..." It was all he could do to not charge to her, to not grab her up and start the fucking slashes. He shook with pent-up blood lust.

My god, my god.

He held the blade in his hand. And breathed to settle himself in the shadow of the open door. No light reached him and Rico as they stood there, both evaluating the next step. A coolness rolled over Todd and he hyper-focused on the sight of Caro at the table. He glanced down at his hands and knew he'd not die today. Caro would not be his path to hell. He had thirteen souls waiting for him in the morning, waiting for his bus to Hades.

Kaboom.

Seeing Caro cemented his plan. Seeing Téa made him sorrowful. Seeing her belly lit him up. Her voice… made him want to laugh hysterically.

"You are so very stupid," she said.

"SHUT UP, WOMAN!" Caro sounded derailed.

Todd could feel a growl in the depth of his throat, felt a hand hold him back. Rico. He eyed Todd and placed a finger to his lips before taking two steps in the darkness, into the room.

"What's the matter, Caro," Téa purred, "did you believe in Rico? Did you believe in his love for you?"

Caro leapt from the table to where Téa was, and grabbed her in a wildly angry rush, his hand around her throat. Her fingers dug into his scalp and she held him at bay. Todd flew forward at that but Rico took one step and interrupted his lover's hard drive, becoming an impassable wall of sheer muscle. Not just that. Todd looked down at the knife held to his belly. One move…

Rico stared hard at him. The commitment in that, the will it took to stop Todd dead in his tracks, was shocking. Todd huffed painfully at the break, at what it took to not make a fucking scene and roll right over Rico, and he shuddered at a sudden realization in Rico's single step in front of him.

One, Rico knew that Téa was ok. Two...

Rico had taken over the game without saying a fucking word. Todd was to be… the goddamn help. If even that much.

Holy shit.

Téa giggled. A mad-as-fuck giggle. Caro released her, taking a step back, breathing hard at her challenge of him. Todd sharpened his gaze on her, studying her in Caro's seemingly deadly space. He couldn't get to her because the wall in front of him was obviously not concerned. Rico dug in hard, demanding Todd's stillness. Shoved the knife back in his waistband, satisfied that Todd was going to toe the line. She was another person altogether, mad as a hatter yet not at all. Rico was right. She was in control of the moment and Caro… wasn't.

Todd eyed Rico once more as he stood with his own razor sharp study of…. Caro.

And then he understood fully, in this very second, that he never was going to be the one to kill Caro. It was always going to be Rico. It was why he was so aghast at the idea that Todd would not "survive" Caro's death. It was absurd to him. Madness. Rico was going to be Caro's end. In a flash, every conversation they had, every back and forth as to what was going to happen… none of it had been consistent or sure, Rico always accommodating Todd's fantasy. Bringing the gun, taking it away, arguing about the explosives, against them, jail for Caro, no jail, death, not death. Even the future beyond. None of it was real.

Todd might have laughed. He'd been played but good. He leaned forward a little, breathed in Rico's scent. "You fucker," he whispered.

"He was a liar, Caro," she continued, "a big fucking LIAR! And you were the biggest chump. Trusting him with your secrets, with your games, thinking he'd never turn on you." She laughed and laughed. She was going to get herself killed… but there might have been method to her madness. Caro was losing it. A perfect set-up for Rico.

"You are the liar!" Caro yelled. "He lay here, over and over, lay still for me, to feed me, to feed my soul. He praised my body, my loving of him…"

Rico glanced at Todd, whispered an absolute command. "Go around. Get your wife."

Todd blinked, wondering for a second if Rico planned on surviving Caro's death. He instinctively held onto Rico's jacket, suddenly afraid… Rico turned again. "GO."

So Todd did. He slid along the perimeter of the room, the darkest space there. Téa laughed wildly at Caro, mocking him in her chortle. He then heard Rico speak in a voice slick with confidence and the power he always held over Caro. Dominance he hid until he needed it.

"Do not believe her, Manuel."

Caro turned like a madman at the sound. "My child! You walk! You are a ghost!"

From the darkness, as he slowly moved around the room, Todd saw Rico emerge into the light. He was ghostly, skin looking fair and moistened with a light dew, his eyes dark and misty. Téa lolled against the wall behind her, laughing still at Caro, saying, "Even his ghost tries to fool you!"

Todd saw her glance in his direction, but her face didn't change so he figured she couldn't see him exactly. Hold on, he thought, don't lose your shit, woman, anymore than you already have. Slowly, slowly, he kept his target.

Caro reached towards Rico, hissing angrily, "She lies. You loved me."

"Yes, I loved you. I thank you every day for all you taught me. I pray to you… Manuel, for what you were to me."

"Yes, yes! Your customers loved you too. I loved you. I am sorry I had to kill you."

"Even that was a gift."

"Rico, Rico…"

"Sit, mí amor, sit. Let me look at you one more time."

Caro was confused, and he licked his lips and rubbed his head. "You are not real. I cannot do what a ghost tells me."

"Please sit."

Caro stuck out the tool he had been holding, a scalpel. Todd stopped dead, eyes on that fucking blade. If he charged Rico, Todd was going to break out of the shadows and start the slashing. He didn't care what Rico wanted. He gripped his own blade tightly but not so tight. He was in fighting mode.

"You are not real!" Caro yelled, the scalpel waving in the air.

Rico was obviously unmoved, unafraid. Utterly in control. Every move was intentional and planned. He stepped closer towards the blade, a pointed toe on the ground, like a dancer, and Todd was reminded of how Rico was when Pedro attacked Jed on the beach house balcony, coolly pulling Jed away from the flying bullet. Unflinching.

Rico repeated his command, his voice even firmer, that of an old dominant over a sub.

"Sit, Caro. I am not asking."

Gasping, Caro covered his face with his hands and sobbed into them. The scalpel hit the ground and Todd saw Téa shift her gaze to it. Move her body. FUCK, Todd thought. She was going to grab it and all hell would break loose. No, no, no, he silently prayed, uselessly.

Caro cried more, apologizing to Rico for killing him, over and over. He stumbled to one of the metal chairs. Rico walked to Caro, towering over the soft weeping mess.

Téa smiled and was just about to go for that fucking scalpel, her body melting forward into an about-to-leap crouch when Todd grabbed her from behind, holding her in his arms like a vice, one hand hard on her mouth. He dragged her backwards into the shadows.

Safe, safe, safe.

Except Téa didn't know she was safe.

Jesus CHRIST, he thought, as she fought him like a goddamn cougar, fighting his hold of her, her fists bashing his head, legs kicking out, struggling like hell for her life. He didn't want to say anything but he had no choice when she bit his hand with every bit of strength in her. "GOD DAMN!" he gasped, voiceless, in real pain, then whispering harshly in her ear despite her head bashing against him, "TÉA! It's ME! Calm the FUCK DOWN and let go! Oh my GOD..."

She stiffened, finally releasing him, finally stopping her fight. Wild eyes turned to him, her fast breath hot and wet in his hand. And her face crumpled in realization, turning into him, crawling against him, up into his hold of her like a cat climbing a tree, for once she being the one who wanted to crawl inside of him. The wall behind them held them both, the darkness and distance from Rico and Caro protecting them, and he tightened his grip on her as she shook with relief. She buried her head against his chest and he panted, out of breath, eyes back on the real stars of the show as he held Téa, unsure he could actually ever let go of her again, for as long as he lived.

Caro stopped his sniveling and looked at Rico… his effort obvious in trying to decide whether the vision was real or not. Rico moved closer to him, the blade in his waistband, at his back. Unseen by Caro. With a quick move, Rico kicked the scalpel away, the thing skidding into the darkness. There were many instruments on the table, but they were a couple of feet away.

When Rico licked his lips, eyes on the equipment, Todd knew in an instant that Caro was never going to leave that chair.

In Spanish, his voice dreamy, Rico said, "Do you remember our nights here, Manuel?"

"I do, how I loved them. How you fed me."

"Yes, I remember them too. I was young, ten or so, when they started?"

"Yes, we began coming here after the films ended."

"What do you mean, they ended?"

"No more were made. The people who made them disappeared. An American couple, Wesley and Virginia… mmm… Bluett. Such names I cannot forget. Those very special films. I have copies, you know? Did you know?"

"Copies."

Caro smiled and sighed, "Oh yes, in the closet in the kitchen. You know… the closet. A box there. A projector. I played them often. My god."

"How many did you make, of those special films?"

"Five. You were in all of them. You watched the angels be lifted from this hell with such beauty on your face. Their blood on your lips, on your beautiful body. Such understanding. "

"Is that what you saw, Manuel, 'understanding'?"

Todd turned his head to the wall, vomit at the back of his throat. The conversation brought yet another shift inside of him. Fuck Rico's plan. Back to the fucking thirteen after Caro. His plan. He trembled with effort at not lurching out of his hiddenness… wishing to break through the talk and simply end Caro. He jerked as Téa moved, not knowing she was pulling him back to her.

She raised her head and smiled in a laughing shocked way, a smile that said just how close to dying she had been. On the cliff, on the edge. Right fucking there. She kissed him hard, pushing her hot tongue into his mouth, teeth crashing, forcing his hand to her belly, to Esperanza. And when she separated, letting him take a breath, their lips still touching, he took a calming breath. And in that second, he saw how beautiful she was, how alive and bright with the sun she was. How fucking perfect. His heart slowed. He did not stop touching Esperanza. He smiled back at her, as relieved, as thankful to be right where he was.

"Are you okay? He didn't hurt you?"

"I think I'm okay, yeah." She studied him. "I can't believe you're here," she said quietly, quiet as a mouse. He nodded and just focused on her. Eyes on hers. Rico disappeared from his gaze, and a surprising tranquility came over him.

"I love you, Téa."

"I love you too," she answered. "We love you. Will we get out of here after all?"

"Yeah… 'cause I'm a fuckin' hero."

She laughed a little hysterically, quiet, quiet… "You are. Oh my fucking god." She clung to him tighter at that, saying to him, repeating his words, "Tighter, tighter, hold me tighter." And he did.

Back in the main circus ring, Rico circled Caro, getting behind him. He wrapped his arms around Caro, around his arms, hands meeting near his heart. Rico breathed and ran his tongue along the back of Caro's neck. He nipped at Caro's ear.

"Dios mío," Caro groaned, resting his head back. "Are you back, Rico?"

"I am back but I am a grown man now. You left me, threw me out."

"NO! No… I wanted more for you than I could ever give."

"You no longer liked my cock, the hair I developed, I was too big. You said so."

Caro wept again, "I had to. You were unhappy, you did not like our games anymore."

"How did you know?"

"You cried the last time we were here. I tasted your tears. You did not finish."

Rico almost laughed, one hand now on Caro's throat,the other hard against his chest, where the heart would be. "Shhhh… let me feel your heartbeat," he said.

Caro then seemed to realize for sure, absolutely, that Rico was alive and not dead. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

"I saw you die."

"I did not die."

Rico stood now and moved back to face Caro.

"Do you want to see me dance?"

"Oh yes, yes, please, one last time."

"A last time? Not the first of many?"

Caro smiled, "Oh Rico, you do not want to be with me. You love the woman, I saw it on your face. You did not want me to hurt her."

"But you were going to hurt her. You wanted to take her child."

Caro wept again… "Yes, yes, I did. I do! Imagine how delicious, a fresh child to love with my body. But…not if it would cause you more pain."

"You are a good storyteller. Let me dance now. Stay still and watch."

Rico stepped back, careful studied steps of a dancer. He shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall behind him in a delicate heap. He revealed his tight grey tee-shirt, one that showed every detail of his fine musculature. He removed the shirt. A fast act. The light from the single bulb fell onto him like a waterfall of magic, spilling over his mocha skin, and lighting him up.

His face was still and held an expression of zen-like peacefulness. He gazed at Caro, holding his attention. Rico then spread his arms, the tight ropes of muscle clear and defined. His hands danced too, slowly falling to his side. He kept his head straightforward, held Caro with his dark eyes. He stood in a classic ballet pose, feet turned slightly outward. He was straight and strong. Without music, it wasn't needed, he lifted himself onto his toes, using the leather edges of his boots, an inhuman look, then down again, bending his legs, knees outward. He did it again and again and again. Perfect… perfect.

Caro covered his mouth with his hands, "Mí amor, mí amor!"

Rico then moved into the fourth position, as they say, one step forward, each foot still pointed outward. He then raised his leg and bent his knee, his foot touching his other leg at the knee, and then lifted himself on his toes again. He turned in a perfect pirouette, arms out, around and around and around, increasing speed as he twirled. He seemed to never leave Caro's eyes but for the quickest moment of the turn. It was mesmerizing, the smoothness, the beauty of him. His body was raw power, strength. When he finally stopped the turns, he settled on his feet completely and curtseyed.

Caro clapped through his tears, "Bravo! Bravo!"

Moving forward again, he took steps with pointed toes. Two, three… and he was inches in front of Caro. Caro was staring upwards at a most beautiful boy, no more than seven, eight, nine. Rico was no longer a man, but the child he had always been.

"Undress," Caro cried. "Oh undress. Let me hold you. Let me taste you."

"Do not touch me until I tell you."

"Oh yes, yes, like we used to!"

Rico got on his toes again, posing, reaching for the buttons of his tight black jeans. He stepped backward, dainty steps. He deftly undid the buttons, and Caro watched with his mouth open. Eager now. He held the sides of the chair, entrenched in a game he seemed familiar with. Rico raised a foot, removing the boot. Removed the other. No socks. He grabbed the knife at his back, keeping his hand and knife hidden. His elbow, hand on the weapon, made the position part of his presentation. An artistic cover. With quick skill, Rico stepped out of the jeans, revealing his fully nude body.

He kicked the clothes behind him. And posed again. Perfect shape. A ballet dancer. Knife still hidden.

Caro cried at the sight. "My boy, my beautiful boy!" His hand hovered in the direction of Rico's hanging cock. Caro grasped his own, rubbing madly. "You will see how thick I still am! How capable of penetrating you how you like."

Rico said nothing, moving in the smallest steps until he straddled Caro, an arm out, a presentation of himself. The other arm behind his back. The knife pointed upwards, tightly, securely held. Up on the balls of his feet he stood, then down, again and again, his arm out, more ballet moves. He finally settled down on Caro's lap, slowly, up and then down, a tease, never resting directly on Caro, however. He held his body up, all his weight held up by his powerful legs.

Caro wept, overpowered by Rico's form, by the immeasurable beauty he possessed.

Too beautiful to kill.

Holding Caro that way, Rico moved his hand with the knife around and behind Caro's head. Rico smiled because he knew how in the dark Caro was.

"I love you, my beautiful Rico," Caro cried.

He tried to wrap his arms around him but Rico said quickly and firmly, "Only when I say."

"Yes, yes, of course..."

"Are you regretful, Manuel?"

"I am regretful at ever having let you go."

"Did you take me from my mother?"

"No, Rico, never!"

"Who took me, mí Caro, mí amor?"

"The Bluetts… the ones from the movies? They wrote a story for you. They found you in a park. You played in the sand! They told me this."

"The Bluetts… Wesley and Virginia."

"They made you into a star, a dancing star!"

"A dancing star."

"You remember! How they called you that. Our dancing star."

From across the room, Téa heard the words and she gasped. She knew about the dancing star on the buildings. "Todd…," she said softly. Todd held her still. He wanted to leave, sneak her out of the basement but he could not leave Rico alone here. He knew he would watch this, see to the end of the story. Téa tried to turn to see Rico, so worried he knew, but he didn't let her.

"Look just at me, preciosa," he said. "Don't stop looking at me, okay?"

She nodded and smiled, eyes on the love of her life, but it was a small one, one of a deep grief at what she heard behind her. A child stolen for the very purpose of creating movies where children would die for the sick pleasure of a few people on this earth.

Rico studied Caro's face and smiled a sickening smile. "A dancing star," he whispered.

From across the room, Todd knew Rico had reached his limit. He held Téa tightly to him, her whole body wrapped up by his, and he said, "Don't look, Delgado, don't listen, just close your eyes."

And it was then that Rico brought the knife down on the back of Caro's neck.

Caro screamed a wordless scream, and Rico was on his feet, knife out, knife raised once again. He grabbed Caro's head and lifted it so he could look him in the face.

"You killed me, Manuel Caro, you sick bastard…" he hissed. "Téa was right… I never loved you, I hated you with everything I am from the day I met you through to this second. And now it is my turn to KILL YOU."

And with that, Rico brought the knife down again on Caro's chest, the knife going in deep and wetly. Caro's eyes were wide and his face stricken with horror. Blood had flown straight back at Rico and it ran down his chest. He took the knife and stabbed him again and again and again. Caro was held in place by Rico's hand and he was choking on his own blood.

In Spanish, Rico cursed him, "You fucking monster! May you burn in hell for all fucking eternity!" He grabbed the head of Caro by the hair and dragged him to the floor. The man was writhing, still alive despite the effort at getting dead. Todd knew it wasn't effort though, it was planned. Rico chose every place that knife would enter. He knew how to immobilize that fucker without quite killing him yet.

Rico stood tall over Caro, feet on either side of the man's hips. He grabbed his hanging cock and grinned. He was covered in blood now. Feet in bloody puddles beneath. He then pissed all up and down Caro's length. He laughed like a kid...

… and Téa dug hard into Todd's chest. She tried not to hear, not to guess.

He bent down and Todd looked away, Rico doing what he was known for doing. Shitting on the dying man. Humiliating him in his last hour on earth. When he stood, done with his business, he ripped Caro's shirt with the knife and cleaned himself up with the bit of cloth. He took the dirtied bit of the shirt and stuffed it in the mouth of Caro. Added shit to the stuffing. He grinned and talked to Caro...

"Te gustas, Manuel? Is it delicious? I am an expert at this. Remember how the men enjoyed me doing that to them? Remember how you laughed? I am laughing now. At you. You stink, the stink of a hundred children. All of us have shit on you."

Rico laughed quietly as he walked to the table with the equipment. "I did not plan on all this being here. What do we have?"

He picked up a saw. And turned to the dying body of Caro to finish his work.

Todd did not watch the rest. He busied himself. Felt all over Téa's body, not sure she wasn't injured. He engaged Téa in a review of what happened to her, ignoring the last screams of Caro. He heard the cutting and he knew that was what Caro had planned for himself on this day. Cutting to get to Esperanza. Caro got what he deserved, at least a little of what he deserved.

Rico was tired. Caro was in pieces. His heart was in Rico's hand. And as he planned for most of his life, he bit off a sliver of the meat. He sat a ways away on the ground. Knees up like he was in a park. He was naked, the blood still wet and sticky. A familiar feeling. He dreamed about blood on a nightly basis. He chewed slowly. Eyes on nothing, really. Chewed until the meat was destroyed enough to swallow. He used his knife and cut off another sliver. Stuck it into his mouth. And chewed again.

He wouldn't ever remember the taste of Caro's heart. He wouldn't remember how much of the heart he ate.

But he would remember the name of the people who took him. The Bluetts. Wesley and Virginia.

After a while, Rico took a towel from Caro's doctor bag. He walked across the floor and turned a spigot, water pouring out. He carefully and thoroughly washed his body. He had long moved his clothes away from the mess. He had managed to protect them from the blood of Caro. He knew he left his DNA all over the place. But he didn't care. The body would be left here for ages. The building would stay empty. And he would be gone. His DNA wasn't in any system and it never would be unless something happened. And by then, who'd care? It was… self defense. A death of a well-documented pedophile. Todd had seen to that. The unstoppable United States law enforcement would know of Caro. No one would ever put Rico in jail for killing a true monster.

And if they did? Pues...he did not care.

The world came to him at that, Rico realizing Téa and Blanco were huddled against the wall. After getting fully dressed, he took the blood soaked towel and moved the hanging light bulb in the direction of the shadows, so he could see them more clearly. Todd held Téa tight to him, she was still, sleeping maybe. Hazel eyes hard on Rico's.

Rico let the bulb drop and it swung and he shivered. A sob caught in his throat. It was over. Caro was dead and gone at last.

And now what?

"Fuck!"

Blanco's voice hit him. "What is the matter?" Rico asked.

"Blood-"

"I know. Caro-"

"Not Caro… TÉA! What the FUCK?!"

Rico took the towel and moved the bulb again so it shined on Téa. Todd was over her and she was on the ground, on her back. She wasn't moving. "Jesus, no, no, no…," Todd moaned… she was bleeding. It was the baby. Blood was on her dress, her thighs… on Todd's hands.

"We have to get her to a hospital! NOW! Move it!"

To be continued...