Disclaimer: I do not own the guys; I just tend to play with them a bit…
Dedication: To many of my friend's that inspire and sometimes push me to write…Shawne, you are always an inspiration, making me want to become a better writer myself. LovinFace, I just love your style and the way you make a story flow…and of course Brook, you ARE and ALWAYS will be my muse…
Warnings: This one may be a bit dark at times and some scenes of torture lie ahead…The views of this story are in no way reflected by the author!
No Turning Back
Chapter Three
Hutch took the first step towards the rude intruder as the other man, Jim Rigsby and his friend Kyle Montag watched on, moving slowly closer, watching the tall blond approvingly.
"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Hutch asked Starsky as the brunet turned slightly on the barstool to face his partner.
"Yeah I did, but perhaps all that blond hair is plugging your ears…" Starsky snapped, turning completely around so that his back was against the bar. "An' you have the balls to call us the inferior race." His face grew intense, he knew he would have to push his friend's buttons in order to get him to play his part.
"Well I don't recall anyone invitin' you into our conversation, or asking your opinion!" Hutch spewed with as much venom as he could fake.
"Don't mind me sayin' so, but I didn't exactly think you or your Nazi friends over there were gonna give a rat's ass about my opinions, but I felt compelled to share them with you anyway…" Starsky stood up off the stool, taking one step towards Hutch.
Their eyes locked, Starsky saw the desperation in his partner's gaze, the doubt, the fear. Hutch's ice blue orbs pled with his for a way out of this, he didn't want to do this, and for a moment, Starsky thought he may not.
"Look Buddy," Hutch said, raising one finger, shaking it in Starsky's face, "I'm warning you, all your people want is a free ride, you want something for nothing…"
"My people?" Starsky yelled, the vein in his neck bulging slightly as he played his part, "You make it sound like they're all like me…you don't know me, or my people!"
Hutch looked over his shoulder at the two spectators then back at Starsky, his intended target. His heart hurt as he thought of hurting him, he wondered if he could pull this off without laying a hand on Starsky, without having to hit him. Starsky caught the hint of hesitation in his partner's mannerisms, hesitation that could get him hurt or even killed.
The tall blond waved his hand in the air as he turned to walk away, "Oh you're not even worth my time, you and your Jew relatives need to go back to your 'holy' land and get the hell outta America!" Hutch fumed as he attempted to take a step away from the brunet just to find himself being jerked back by the elbow and whipped around.
Out of nowhere a fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head to the side, not really hurting him, but surprising him.
His eyes widened as he looked into Starsky's cobalt blues, saddened that his partner did that, knowing that there was no other way out now, he was forced to play his hand, pulling his fist back and snapping it forward connecting with his best friends cheek.
Starsky flew back against the bar counter as his arms flailed for something to help him keep his balance. He stumbled against the wood edge before regaining his balance, pausing and then pushing his body up to a standing position, He looked over at Hutch and a piece of his heart broke as he saw the pain in his partner's face. He remembered that feeling, a couple of years ago, when the roles were reversed and it was he that had hit the tall lummox, he remembered clearly how terrible that felt and how much it hurt. He knew that Hutch was suffering and he knew that he had to push him just a little further.
He straightened up and pulled on his shirt, moving it back into position, placing his right hand on his cheek, he looked up at Hutch, looking deep into his pleading eyes.
"Is that all you got?" Starsky asked as he took one more step toward his friend, glancing over to see the two observers, smiling and whispering approvingly.
Hutch begged him with his eyes, not to come towards him. He wanted so desperately for Starsky to just stay put. Hutch figured that enough was enough and this was plenty to get him on to the next level, but Starsky just had to make sure.
Starsky shoved Hutch hard enough to make him take to small steps backwards, sighing heavily, knowing what was to come. Biting his bottom lip, he bent forward and delivered a punch to Starsky's midsection, bending the curly haired man in half, and Hutch leaned over him, whispering in his ear.
"No more…please?" He whispered as he heard Starsky gasping for air. He didn't hit him hard, but must have hit him in just the right spot to knock the wind out of his best friend, finding it difficult himself to breathe.
His left hand was grasping Starsky's leather jacket, right at his shoulder, subtly squeezing it tightly in support, while looking like he was man handling the insubordinate man. He jerked Starsky to his feet just as Jim Rigsby approached the duo, delivering his own message to Starsky's jaw, once again sending the brunet wheeling back into the bar stool, tripping and landing flat on his backside on the hard wood floor. The bar erupted in cheers as Hutch saw that this situation was quickly getting out of control. What had started out as a bar brawl was about to turn into a brutal beating. Both detectives locked eyes yet again and Starsky saw the emotion in Hutch's face, knowing that he was about to put a stop to it, he sternly looked at his partner expressing his own wishes to let things play out for now.
"I think he's had enough, don't you?" Hutch stepped in between Rigsby and Starsky.
"Whatsa matter Kent, you going soft on us now? After all, you started this, we just thought we'd help you finish it!" He spat as he took another step towards the injured detective.
"Yeah, well first of all, I don't need anyone's help finishing off a worthless Jew! And second, I don't think he's worth any of us going to jail for assault." Hutch explained, sensing that Rigsby relaxed a little. "There'll just be more of them around the next corner, there's no way to get rid of them, their like an infestation." Hutch seethed in Rigsby's ear as the man took one step back, away from Starsky, much to Hutch's relief.
Rigsby looked up at his partner, Kyle Montag, flipping his head to the side, "Take the piece of trash out to the garbage!" He directed his partner as he and two other men that were at the bar jumped in, taking Starsky under his shoulder and dragging him out the back door.
Jim Rigsby looked back at Hutch, looking him up and down, admiring what he had just witnessed. He placed a long white cigarette in his mouth, letting it dangle precariously. He circled the tall blond, eyeing him. Hutch couldn't help but allow his vision to follow his partner as he was drug through the kitchen and out the back door. He was relieved that it was over for his friend, and he hoped that they would not need to repeat this performance. There was a knot in the pit of his stomach, he felt nauseous, dirty about what he had just done. Looking back at Rigsby, he saw him take a shiny silver Zippo lighter from his pocket, flipping back the lid and striking the round wheel, igniting the flame and bringing it towards his cigarette. He took a long and purposeful drag off the stick as he flipped the lid of his lighter closed. He shut one eye to keep the smoke from filling it as he returned the lighter to his pocket, and took the cigarette out of his mouth with the other hand.
"What are you lookin' at?" Hutch asked him, showing that he held no fear of the man.
"I'm looking at someone that interests me a great deal…I like how you handled that man, and I'd like to discuss a proposition with you." Rigsby lowered his voice for only Hutch to hear.
"I'm listening…" Hutch retorted sharply as he moved towards the back part of the room with his new friend.
"See, I have these acquaintances…they think just like you do, only differences that they act on their emotions and feelings. They take their philosophy on life and the proper order of things, and actually do things to make it right again." Rigsby explained.
"Just exactly what is it they do to act on it and make things right?" Hutch asked, his interest peeking.
"Well, lets just say that they will show you in time…if they decide you're worthy of becoming part of our organization…but that isn't up to me to decide, however I am pretty damn sure, they'd love to get the chance to meet you…" he stated as he took another long drag off of his cigarette, inhaling slowly, taking it in as deep as his damaged lungs would allow.
He held out his pack of Winston cigarettes, offering them to the tall blond in front of him as Hutch waved him off.
"So when do I meet them?" Hutch asked, looking straight ahead at the other patrons in the bar, noting how there was only fair skinned white customers here. No blacks, no Hispanics, no brunets…Hutch's stomach turned as he thought about his partner and how hateful these people were towards them, for no apparent reason. He hated playing along, acting like one of them, but he kept his eye on the prize, the possibility of bringing these people down and ridding the world of this so called 'organization'.
"No time like the present." Rigsby answered as he flipped his head towards the front door, "I have a car waiting outside."
Hutch's heart skipped a beat and his gut twisted as he realized that these men were moving fast, almost too fast. By going with them tonight, he would have no way to inform Dobey of his whereabouts, no way to have Starsky follow him and watch his back, but if he didn't go with them right now, that would raise red flags to the suspects, they would figure that Hutch was not who he was pretending to be and that in itself, would jeopardize this whole case. He looked back towards the back door of the place, where the other two men had taken Starsky out, he knew that his partner was going to be furious with him, but he would make it up to him…later…after tonight's meeting. He also knew Starsky, and knew that he would be mad, but he would get over it, he always did. Hutch nodded in agreement and followed Rigsby out front to a waiting limousine.
ooo
Starsky was thrown roughly to the ground, the uneven asphalt skinning the palms of his hands as he tried to break his fall. He barely had a second to catch himself before feeling a boot to his side, knocking him over. He let out a long, loud groan as he landed on his side, gasping for air.
He looked up at Kyle Montag as he walked over to him, cracking his knuckles in his fists, grinning broadly, thoroughly enjoying the pain he was inflicting on the man on the ground. Starsky blinked hard, trying to help clear his vision and fight through the pain that was searing in his side. He focused well enough to see a second and then a third man approaching him, all of them standing around him in a circle, looking down at him, snorting in laughter and then exchanging glances amongst themselves.
"What say we finish him off?" Montag spoke malevolently.
"Let's do this shit!" The man standing above Starsky's head snorted as he stepped a little closer.
"Don't do this…" Starsky pled as his plea was cut of and he felt a crush pain on his right ankle, Montag lifting his own leg and bringing the full force of his boot right down on Starsky's bent foot.
An almost animalistic growl came from the detective's throat, his body contorting, trying to curl up to protect his badly injured ankle as he vaguely heard the roar of laughter come from the three men around him.
Starsky heard muffled comments, but wasn't sure which one was talking, "Piece of shit Jew…you're all alike…"
He lifted his head to look around; there was no one in site, no one he could see in the dimly lit alley, the smell of rotting garbage making him almost nauseous. He felt another hard blow hit him between his shoulder blades, knocking his whole body back to the ground. He thought briefly about calling for help, shouting out, but if Hutch came to his rescue, his cover would be blown, putting both of the detectives in grave danger. He realized, he was alone, and we would have to get out of this one by himself. He tried to lift himself up.
"Just like your kind, stupid as a bag of rocks!" Another comment was shouted at him. Just keep getting up, asking for more you ignorant fuck!"
Out of nowhere, another wicked slam connected with his temple, snapping his head to the side. His mind swam, he felt himself losing consciousness, he knew he was out of fight, it was all he could do to stay awake at this point and a part of him wished he wasn't.
His head fell, lying against the damp rocky asphalt; he blinked hard, fighting against the darkness that was threatening to consume him. He was vaguely aware of a few more strikes that his body was taking, but at this point, he hardly felt them. He closed his eyes, and prayed that he would just make It through this one, that one of these guys wouldn't take it any farther, he imagined a knife, being shoved deeply into his chest, he kept his eyes closed, if he was about to be mortally wounded, he didn't want to see it coming. He thought again about screaming out for help, but now it was too late, he didn't have the energy or the ability to exert such force. He was at their mercy, at the mercy of men that would just as much skin him alive then look at him. He new he was in dire trouble.
Starsky's body curled up in the fetal position, a last ditch effort to try and protect himself from more injuries. The brunet detective heard some more conversing, some loud yelling, his mind couldn't decipher the words, but there were more people around, he knew that. Then suddenly the pain stopped, the attack ceased. He found himself being turned over on his back, young men kneeling at his side, slapping his cheek telling him to hang on, help was on the way. Finally Starsky allowed the comforting blackness that had been stalking him, consume him once and for all as he drifted on into the shelter it provided.
ooo
Hutch climbed in first, his tall frame making it difficult to maneuver his way around the inside of the limo. He positioned himself on the seat that had its back to the driver, looking around the car, and behind him at the tinted window separating the front of the car from the back. Montag and his partners, Winters and Hudson climbed in next, each of them flanking either side of Hutch, while Montag sat facing the trio. They were followed closely by Rigsby who sat directly opposite Hutch.
The tall blond detective noticed Montag, Winters and Hudson's jovial attitude, almost celebratory. Montag grabbed a bottle of champagne as the other two grabbed glasses and offered them to the others in the car.
"Did you see when I stomped on his leg?" Montag asked his two cohorts, "I swear, I think I broke the fucker's ankle!" He laughed as he popped the cork on the champagne. Hutch looked on horrified at what he was hearing. A lump rose in his throat as he had to struggle to swallow it.
"I know, and then my right hook across his temple! Blam!" Winters recreated his swing as Hutch saw the drying blood that stained his knuckles. "Should have been lights out right then! He was one strong ass Jew, I'll give him that!" They roared in laughter, high fiving each other victoriously.
"You guys continued to beat on him?" Hutch asked astounded and scared to death at losing the ability to control his reaction.
"You bet we did, felt good too…until those damn good Samaritans ran us off…" Hudson chimed in as the filled their glasses and passed them around the car for a toast. Hutch couldn't believe that he was actually about to toast Starsky's misfortune.
Rigsby sat back and quietly observed the interaction and recount of his men, approvingly.
To Be Continued…