Terror on Gay Street: Halloween Nightmare

Disclaimer: I do not own any trademarked characters. This is not for profit.

Chapter Two: Damn dam

One year ago, The hoover dam

Originally, Edward had wanted to visit Texas, specifically Jasper's hometown of Austin. However Jasper had a few complaints with that. Among them was the fact that they'd already visited Austin during their honeymoon and spent many sexy nights there.

Edward and Jasper had been married for two years now and this was their second wedding anniversary. They wanted to do something really special this year and so they decided to visit the hoover dam, one of America's famous landmarks.

There was some arguing over where to go but in the end, Jasper won the debate. Edward cried foul because Jasper's sweet lips caused his higher brain function to take over but Jasper replied that it was even because Edward's warm smile melted his heart.

So they saw the Hoover dam, but Edward wasn't overly interested in the giant structure. His eyes were always on the cute blonde that he married.

It didn't take long for everything to go wrong.

At first everything had been fire, they'd been young and in love; then Revolver Ocelot had to ruin it all.

Though they didn't know what his real name was, Revolver Ocelot was a former special forces operative and KGB agent with a penchant for theatricality and rape. The crazy old man went around permanently dressed like a Russian cowboy; lord knows where the man first picked up his strange Western obsession.

It was two years ago that the sadistic, monologue loving Russian had cornered Jasper and Edward in Seattle and tried to rape both of them. Luckily the evil old man was foiled in a giant battle that destroyed most of the city.

The two of them were attending the tour of the dam when they saw an old man in cowboy duds who was hiding his face behind a newspaper.

Jasper and Edward wanted to scream and shout for the tour group to leave; this was a dangerous madman on the loose.

Before either of them could raise a peep, Ocelot pressed a button on the detonator he'd been holding in his hand. On cue, the roof exploded thanks to a series of pre-laid explosive charges that Ocelot had been careful to set up in advance.

As an old spy, Ocelot knew how to lay a trap even if he did like to monologue for nearly two hours before the trap was set.

People screamed as concrete was blown to bits and tons of the stuff came crashing down. Some shouted and ran while others were crushed under the rubble. Edward was nearly killed by a falling metal support beam.

Ocelot didn't mean to kill them this early in the game but he wanted to scare them and it had to be a tangible scare. Even a fake assassination attempt needs to look legitimate.

Ocelot merely smiled while his prey choked on concrete dust and stumbled away from him. Grinning like a hunter, Ocelot's long silver hair and pointed moustache glistened. Into his coat he reached for his single action Colt Army revolver. It was the greatest gun ever invented.

Spinning his gun like Yule Brenner, Ocelot went after the two lost boys.

Jasper and Edward tried to run with their eyes stinging from the dust and acridic smoke left behind by the explosive device. Their eyes also stung with tears of injustice. They always feared that the madman would return one day to take away their happiness.

They went out armed always but it was Jasper who was the one that was good at not worrying. Edward's gut was always in a knot for fear that either Alexander Anderson or Ocelot would return one day but at the same time he fed off his mat's surety and steadfastness.

Either of them could die tomorrow from a bus crash or cancer, Jasper always said. He was always much braver than Edward; Ed knew how to have fun but his husband was the one who knew how to live. Edward was willing to bet that Jasper wasn't afraid of anything.

From under his coat, Jasper pulled out a compact pistol. Since nearly being raped and killed by a pack of psychos both of the men were now licensed gun carriers. However, coming from the lone star state did nothing for Jasper against Revolver Ocelot's almost magic marksmanship.

A revolver shot thundered and blasted the pistol right from Jasper's hand. His fingers stung from the impact.

Reacting to protect his mate, Edward pulled out a concealed carry pistol of his own and fired back at their enemy; but Ocelot was like a ghost. For all his flamboyant and un-spy like ways Revolver Ocelot knew perfectly how to be where the bullets weren't.

Ducking behind cover and popping out again, Ocelot pulled back the hammer with his thumb and fired.

Unconsciously, the Russian clenched his right hand. Ever since he'd had his arm reattached after it'd been cut off the darn thing didn't feel like it used to; hence the old man's reason for shooting with his left hand.

Jasper felt numb as something like a freight train hit him .All the strength left his legs and the Texan hit the floor. His hearing left him and time seemed to slow down. The only thing that seemed real was the feel of Edward's hand holding his and the blood that was running down the gunshot wound he'd taken.

Edward screamed and begged for Jasper to come along. It was then that Jasper was truly afraid and then that he made the hardest choice he'd ever made.

The sound of Edward firing his gun back at Ocelot made Jasper flinch, breaking him out of his small bubble of time and space.

With iron hands, he grabbed Edward by the shirt and whispered to him, "Leave me."

Edward screamed. Edward cried and begged like a bum for Jasper to come with him but Jasper just set his mouth into a hard expression and punched Edward in the face.

Edward fell back, bleeding slightly from the mouth. He turned around, aware of a gunshot wound that would have hit him if Jasper hadn't have punched him in the face and knocked him down.

Jasper looked at Edward with a face that was a twisted theatre mask of grief and emotional agony. "Please," he said in a small voice, "Save yourself, for me."

The world is a scary place and Jasper and Edward had never felt so helpless and small; and that was saying something since two years ago a crazy Scottish madman had tried to put Jasper through a wood chipper.

And Edward fled, because he was afraid; but most of all he was afraid because Jasper was afraid and that scared him more than death.

As Jasper bled and bled, a second gunshot hit him and knocked him to the ground like a kick.

As he tried to crawl forward, he heard the sound of cowboy boots and spurs walking towards him.

Without warning his field of vision was suddenly filled with Revolver Ocelot's devilishly handsome visage.

It hurt Jasper almost as badly as a gunshot how handsome Ocelot was. His moustache was waxed to perfection and glinted in the light. His silver hair was long and thick as a twenty year old's. His hawkish features spoke of wisdom and hardness; the man had steel in his soul.

The man also had poison in his heart; lurking inside that handsome Russian form was a hideous monster who delighted in rape and torture and betrayed his allies at the drop of a hat.

Grinning like the devil, Ocelot patted Jasper on the cheek and positively oozed glee. "Don't go anywhere, princess; I've got to deal with your wife first."

Then the old man was gone by the tell-tale sign of his well-worn high quality cowboy boots.

It took Jasper no time at all to realize what he'd done. Instead of making a last, desperate sacrifice for his mate, he'd gone and offered to Edward on a silver platter.

Sacrifice indeed; more like an act of ultimate stupidity. The realization struck Jasper like a bath of boiling oil. No torment on earth could be worse.

Edward ran with his gun in his hand, but he did not run as fast as he could have. Much as he wanted to escape, leaving without Jasper was not an option.

He never liked to go against his precious love's wishes but this was one time he'd have to go against the grain.

Breathing in, Edward began to psych up himself like a boxer before a match. Holding his nine millimetre pistol in his hand, he began to mentally go over all the gun's operational specifications and requirements.

Action movie aficionados might scoff at the old nine millimetre gun, but guns like that can carry more ammo and are easier to aim. With a honking big .44 magnum, you can kill a guy with one hit but you cannot afford to miss due to the heavy recoil and massive weight of the gun.

From the smoke of the explosions came Ocelot, like a wraith from the moor. His arms were spread wide and there was something in his hand but it wasn't a gun. Edward couldn't quite make out what it was.

The old man was grinning as if he didn't have a care in the world; as if he was daring Edward to shoot him.

Edward became furious. He would show the old man that he wasn't helpless. He was going to blow that old man's nose right through the back of his head. He raised his gun and drew a bead right on Ocelot's head; just as Ocelot was expecting.

With a press of a button on his detonator, Ocelot caused the entire concrete wall behind Edward to blast apart.

In front of Edward, the whole world went black as the explosion overloaded the light receptors in his eyes. Likewise the boom threw his ears into chaos and made them ring like telephones.

Edward lay on the ground, bleeding and stuck in his own little bubble. Now, he was trapped in this bubble, unable to save Jasper. He couldn't hear, see or move; he was helpless no matter how he wished otherwise.

It was then that Edward began to slowly grope for his weapon as his senses returned to him—just in time for him to see the very devil on earth.

Edward grunted with pain as a fine leather cowboy boot slammed down onto his hand.

In the blink of an eye, Ocelot had grabbed Edward by the throat and lifted him up. Despite his advanced years, the old man was still strong as a steel spring and as lean as lean ground beef.

Edward just looked at Ocelot with furious impotence. He sputtered but could not say a word for his brain was still fuzzy from the explosion.

Dimly, the young man was aware of the cool breeze behind him from the giant hole. His injured ears could pick up the sound of the dam's rushing waters hundreds of feet below them.

In a futile gesture, Edward tried to grab Ocelot's hand and try to break a finger or two, but the old gunslinger was far too wily for that. With blinding speed, he brought up his revolver and pointed it at Edward's head.

A lethal click warned Edward that the old man was read to do death's business.

To Edward's surprise though, Ocelot did not monologue but instead went right to the point.

"Jasper isn't dead," rasped Ocelot in his rough, tobacco coarsened voice, "but he will be soon if he doesn't get medical attention."

Ocelot drank it in as he saw the emotions play across Edward's face. Revolver Ocelot would never know what it would be like to have one's true love laid bleeding and dying on the ground. He would never know because Ocelot isn't the man who fears the knock on the door from an approaching assassin; he is the one who knocks.

The old man licked his lips with anticipation, with a shove; he thrust Edward back until the younger man was almost falling out of the giant hole in the wall. The breeze felt cold, there was a rare rain here in these parts and it was turning the weather cold.

"Now boy," Ocelot gloated, "I need you to do something for me."

Edward stared coldly at the old man; Jasper was all he could think of.

Ocelot held out his revolver until the barrel was almost touching Edward's mouth, "I want you to suck on the barrel of this fine gun like you suck on your boy toy's little rod."

Through the layers of grief and helplessness, Edward felt powerful indignation; Jasper wasn't small, not in the manly department. If he could have this way, he'd make that sick old man blow him and then he'd chop the bastard's head off.

If only.

Ocelot explained himself to Edward, for he would not be denied this chance to humiliate an enemy. His original plan called for him to make Jasper and Edward dig their own graves but he liked this better. "I've got a two minute window to escape the dam before police arrive," the old man's cold, intense eyes narrowed, "If Jasper is to survive, someone will have to call an ambulance; I shot him in the renal artery."

"I used a low yield bullet for that shot and the bullet is stuck in the artery; he won't die right away but he's dying, slow but sure."

Just hearing all of this made Edward want to vomit. That anyone could do that to someone as sweet and ethical as Jasper was just horrifying.

"So," Ocelot concluded, "Suck on the barrel of this gun and I promise you that I will call for medical aid for your pretty Jasper." His laugh lines stood out as if he found the whole situation amusing.

"Yes," Ocelot cooed in a childish tone, "Just suck on this gun until it comes and I'll spare your lover."

Edward did nothing.

Edward said nothing.

Revolver Ocelot watched his victim, fully hoping and expecting that he'd degrade himself like Ocelot wanted it.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL HIM!" the old man roared, his cool façade finally breaking and revealing the snarling beast underneath, "I SWEAR IT!"

As he howled like a stark raving animal, spit flew from his mouth and his lips curled back; revealing two rows of teeth yellowed by years of tobacco smoking.

"I'm not kidding," the old man whispered in a deadly voice, "I'll go over there and put a bullet right between his eyes so that he can see it was me who killed him; unless you suck on the barrel of this gun like it's a cock."

Finally, slowly, reluctantly, Edward began to lean forward, towards the barrel of the Colt single action. Despite the threat, the almost couldn't bring himself to suck on the cold lifeless steel. The smell of cordite was making his stomach turn.

Ocelot watched as Edward opened his mouth and began to move to start sucking on the gun. The old man chuckled and put on his most charming smile.

"Perfect," the old spy uttered with Satisfaction as Edward sucked the barrel of the gun into his mouth with all the joy of a death row inmate watching the switch on the electric chair being flipped.

Ocelot's finger began to tighten on the trigger when something happened.

Something-or rather someone had slammed into Ocelot and Edward, knocking them aside.

It was Jasper! Bleeding wounded and even dying, he'd used the last of his energy to chase after Ocelot and knock him off his love.

Ocelot felt Jasper slam into his, causing the gun barrel to pull abruptly form Edward's mouth and Ocelot to fire his gun into the air.

Jasper tackled Ocelot like he was playing high school football.

Throwing an elbow at Jasper, Ocelot managed to knock Jasper off him and into the giant hole in the wall that lead to nothing but sure death by falling into the water below.

The forward momentum took Jasper right out of that hole but as he fell, he grabbed the nearest thing he could—Revolver Ocelot's long trench coat.

Ocelot's eyes bulged as he felt Jasper grab onto his coat. His boots slid across the concrete floor until his heels were less than an inch from the ledge and a fatal fall into the churning waters of the hoover dam.

Wildly, the old man swung his arms as he inevitably felt himself being pulled backwards by Jasper's weight.

Suddenly, Edward's slender hand shot out and grabbed Ocelot by the blue ascott. Not because he wanted to save the old assassin but because Jasper was hanging from Ocelot's coat.

His memories of that specific moment were hazy. All Edward could remember was hearing Jasper screaming for him to run, Ocelot's bulging eyes as the ascot choked him and the total lack of any sound whatsoever when he let go and both Ocelot and Jasper plunged to their deaths.

The police scoured the waters and all they found was Ocelot's drowned corpse. Jasper's body was never found.

And in all that time, Edward blamed himself for Jasper's death.

Present Day: Two days before Halloween

Edward woke with a start. A scream heralded that he'd been having a nightmare, but the nightmare was over. Now he could go to his waking nightmare.

Breathing heavily, Edward leaned back and realized he wasn't at home anymore. He was lying in a bed with pristine white sheets and a clean white nightshirt.

The Cullen boy looked down at himself and his white nightshirt. Where the hell was he and how did he get here?

Those questions were answered when a high pitched female voice shrieked loud enough to make Edward's ears ring.

"HE'S AWAKE!" little Alice Cullen shrieked as loud as he diminutive lungs would allow.

There was no respite for Edward as his short, barely four foot tall sister ran up to him from where she'd been sitting on the side of the bed and started punching him.

Edward shouted in shock as Alice's little fists of fury struck him in the shoulder and head.

"You mean, selfish fairy!" Alice shouted as she continued to bash her brother, "We thought you were dead!"

Under the barrage of tiny fists, Edward finally understood what she was getting at. He'd been telling Peter about how some cheese he bought smelled like Jasper's crotch and then he walked headfirst into a perpendicular door and knocked himself out.

As Edward cried out under Alice's gentle beating, Peter came into the room.

At last! Someone who could help.

"Peter!" came a shout from Edward, "Give me a fucking hand!"

Taking his sweet time, Peter slowly walked up to Alice and lifted her up; putting the small woman under his arm like a suitcase.

Kicking her legs and thrashing her arms ineffectively, Alice began to claw at Peter like a cat, "Let me go, you big lug!"

Peter paid no mind to Alice's feeble strikes. Instead, he wound up and punched Edward in the shoulder.

"AH!" Edward cried out and hugged his shoulder. It felt like Peter had hit him hard enough to cause a dislocation, "What the fuck was that for?"

Peter shrugged and ignored Alice's caterwauling, "It was for love." Then he punched Edward in the same shoulder again, but not as hard. This caused the Greek man to smirk, "And that was just for the hell of it."

Alice's yowling must have certainly be heard because at that moment, what seemed like Edward's entire family walked into the room. There was his parents and even Rosalie, Jasper's sister; and her husband Emmett.

Oh God, he was at his parent's house!

At the sight of his family showing up, Edward suddenly froze; like a deer in headlights. He was a proud man and even though with Jasper's help he'd mended his torn relationship with his parents, it still was uncomfortable to be seen in just a nightshirt.

Absentmindedly, Edward felt his head and winced as he touched a spot on his forehead; he must have hit that door petty hard. God, it was so embarrassing to bruise in a place like that.

Everyone was looking at Edward with unreadable expressions. Then Edward saw his father, Carlisle. His father's eyes were red and puffy; he'd been crying. Esme was there holding up Carlisle as if he'd fall at any moment.

Seeing his father in such a sad state hit Edward like a punch in the gut. He never wanted to see his father like this.

Carlisle looked at his son with the eyes of a father who truly loves; his voice was strained and cracked from hours of crying. Without Esme's support he surely would have shrivelled and died. "Son, you're alright."

The Cullen father tried to smile but the sadness didn't go away. He was sad because his son had been hurt in an unimaginable way. He was sad because there seemed to be nothing he could do to heal his son's hurt; no band aid that could be applied or hug that could heal it. He was sad mostly because he just couldn't protect his son the way he used to be able to.

Cradling her husband, Esme spoke to her boy, "Edward, you know we are all here for you. If you want to talk or have a shoulder to cry on we, all of us are here."

Behind her, Rosalie and Emmett nodded; their eyes were full of compassion. Even the normally boisterous Emmett couldn't find anything to say. Alice snuck over to her parent's side in a display of family solidarity.

The only one who was immune to the grief was the emotionally blunt Peter. Edward was alive, so what the fuck was everyone so sad about?

"We thought you had died," Alice said, holding onto her anger so she wouldn't burst out crying. "You didn't answer any of our phone calls and when we found you on the floor of your house we assumed the worst."

Edward watched horrified as his father burst out, "Son, we love you," and he went to hug his boy. Rosalie, Emmett and everyone else except Peter rushed in for a group hug.

Edward was instantly overwhelmed. He didn't deserve this kind of love; he'd caused Jasper's death and now his grief was tormenting his family.

"Thank you all," came Edward's weak voice; it was all he could muster for no words could express how lucky he was to have these people.

Then slowly, reluctantly, everyone pulled away from the warm embrace of the hug.

Clearing her throat, Esme explained something to her son. "Peter is going to be staying with you for the Halloween weekend."

This didn't register with Edward's mind. "What?"

"I paid Peter a hundred bucks to stay with you in case you try to kill yourself."

Edward stopped, suddenly his headache was increasing and his mother's plotting was the cause of it. "Mom, I won't—

"It's just a precaution, Edward," Esme cut him off; "Almost every suicide victim gave no indication that he was going to kill himself."

Still, Edward couldn't believe his mom though so low of him, "Mom, this is bullshit. I'm not going to kill myself."

"I know sweetie," Esme said with sad eyes, "I know."

Then Esme's expression hardened and she turned to Peter, "There's a tool box under the bathroom sink, Peter; take it with you, there's a crowbar in there. If Edward tries to hang himself with the bed sheets break both his arms."

Peter saluted Esme; getting paid to break someone's arms was awesome! "Yes mam."

Edward was hoping that he'd wake up from this nightmare. "Peter, you're not really going to stay with me, are you?"

Peter laughed, "Sorry man, but its a hundred bucks." The man stopped momentarily and thought of something, "Oh, my dad might drop by so could you try to act straight? The old man would shit a chicken if he knew my best friend was gay. I've been telling him that your wife Jennifer died."

Edward groaned. This was going to be the worst Halloween ever.

Cemetery, unknown location, two days before Halloween

It was a dark and stormy night. All the devils of the earth and sky were begging to be broken free of the chains that held them so they could terrorize the living.

The rain that fell was poison, made acid by the exhaust fumes of industry and of the inherent sin of humankind. As this sin filled rain fell down from the sky, grass withered and trees shivered before it. It crumbled stone and made mortar break down.

In rundown, poorly maintained cemetery one tombstone stood out from the others. Instead of loving words commemorating the dead, only scorn was written on the granite block; mocking the dead instead of honouring them.

The headstone read, "Adamska Voronov, 1945-2011. We are glad you are dead."

Instead of a cross or Star of David or other religious symbol, there was a carving of a revolver on the top of the tombstone.

CRACK!

Lightning tore apart the sky.

CRACK!

Lightning struck again, even louder this time. From under the grave, a small sound could be heard, almost as if something were trying to get out.

CRACK!

The lightning struck within less than a kilometer of the cemetery. The noise was like a giant hammer cracking open an equally titanic lock. The thumping from underneath the grave was becoming louder and more persistent.

CRACK!

The lightning struck a tree inside the cemetery, incinerating the hundred year old oak in less than a second. As the tree fell, its scorched trunk threw off a red glow on the grave of Adamska Voronov.

The thumping from under the grave was impossible to ignore out. Something dead was coming back to life; something was escaping the world after to return to this one. Someone was alive!

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Six gunshots tore apart the earth. Almost as if on cue, the rain stopped and the thunder and lightning with it.

Some seconds nothing happened.

That was when a bony, embalmed hand burst from the soil and punched into the dank, mouldy air of October. Clenched tightly in the dead, cold hand was a gun; a single action Colt Army pistol—the peacemaker, the greatest gun every made.

Revolver Ocelot had returned.

And that is it for now :D This story will be my top priority for the time being but I love all of you who read and review ;) You all rock. And next chapter we get to see what happened to Jasper.

Tune in next week to see Jasper's fate and see if Edward can survive the wrath of the newly risen Ocelot.

Ta

Master of the Boot