Terror on Gay Street: Halloween Nightmare
Chapter Four: The Vampire and the Ocelot
Disclaimer: I do not own Metal Gear or Twilight or the Holiday of Halloween. Enter at your own peril.
The Halloween Weekend
Bacchanalia. Mayhem. Fucking.
Those three words did an excellent job of describing what Edward and Peter's Halloween weekend was all about.
With Edward's credit card and Peter's charisma, they managed to haul in an impressive load of whores, strippers and sluts. They ordered a dozen pizzas and had friends bring in as much booze as they could get their hands on.
From Friday to Monday, they partied nonstop. They never slept; they just kept on drinking, dancing and fucking.
Edward lay in his bedroom on top of a young hot thing he never met before. He growled and groaned as he fucked the college student up the ass. It was all hot and good but he was totally deaf to the student begging for more.
In the back of his mind, Edward was feeling like a cradle robber; fucking someone so much younger. But right now all his inhibitions were out the window and it was good. In his bedroom, several other couples, hetero and same sex were fucking with the same frenzied madness as Edward was. Men and women, women and women, men and men; it was all the same.
Edward hardly even noticed when some young man climbed on top of him, positioned himself and started fucking Edward from behind while simultaneously a drunken girl went up and started gnawing on Edward's arm like it was a pretzel. It was a sandwich of sexual debauchery and it was tasty.
Down in the living room Peter was dancing wildly while drinking deeply from a bottle of homemade wine that one of the guests had brought. The brawny man's shirt was off and several women were hanging off of him like he was the king of the Greek gods, Zeus. And like Zeus Peter was going to spread his seed tonight to the pounding rhythms of all his favourite bands.
He pulled himself away from the homemade wine long enough to stick his tongue down a woman's throat and grab a cigarette from somebody else.
The air was full of smoke form cigarettes and marijuana. It was like time had turned back the hands of the clock and dropped everyone into a medieval carnival with sex, murder and alcohol on fire sale price.
For the entire weekend they kept this up, drinking only alcohol and a little pop and only eating enough so that they could go for another round of sex.
Condoms littered the house; Peter went through a box of them and then screwed about a dozen times without them. Once Peter even got so drunk that he kissed a man; but only because he thought it was a woman.
The neighbours wanted to complain because the music was loud day and night, but Peter and his crowbar scared enough shades of shit to sufficiently quiet down the fucking neighbours until the party could conclude.
After the first twenty four hours of partying, Edward was still locked in his bedroom like a prisoner. He was sucking off one man while being taken from behind by another while a third man was sucking his dick. Edward got the cock out of his mouth only long enough to take a big hit off a bong packed with weed, and then it was back to work.
Downstairs, a new order of pizza was brought in and one drunken woman started to fuck the pizza guy. The pizza guy was most unlucky because a week from his wife would find out what happened and tear him a new asshole.
The next twenty four hours after that was a blur. People had been partying for days now without any sleep. Everyone was crashing and Peter being the good friend he was, got rid of all the fucking free loaders and kicked them out of the house.
And that is where the story begins.
Halloween morning, half an hour before sunrise
Edward was feeling like shit. He thought that a weekend long orgy of drink and sex would make him feel any better but it didn't. He was still sore, now it was physical as well as mental. Jasper was gone and the gaping hole in his heart was still oozing and raw.
Miserably, he sat at the breakfast table on Halloween morning and regretted every single thing that happened over the weekend. In fact, he felt like a total slut as he sat before the steaming cup of coffee.
He and Peter were sitting in the exact same spot as they'd done three days before Halloween. Edward was much the same except now he was utterly sleep deprived and his ass ached.
Peter on the other hand was totally fucked up. Though he'd kicked out all the guests he was still hyper and a rabbit on speed. He was like a race horse on cocaine; pure energy and no way to vent it.
Peter was twitching and wiping sweat form his brow as he gulped back an insane amount of coffee. "Oh Edward," breathed while his eyes twitched, "You wanna do something?"
Edward looked up at Peter like a sad puppy, then looked back down again, "No." It was final.
Peter shook his head and failed to notice that his shirt was on backwards. He began to babble at a mile a minute, "Because I can still keep going man. We could go trick or treating tonight, us together. We can get some guns and dress up like rappers or something—or is it rapists?—fuck it we'll be okay."
"But I don't know about you but I did so much cocaine last night and I can't shake it. I need a big fucking Hershey bar but I can't leave the house or else you'll kill yourself and I Can't break your arms."
Edward looked around the house, littered with beer cans, pizza boxes and used condoms. "Well Peter if you have energy why don't you try cleaning up a little."
Peter shot up out of his chair and began to babble more, "Sure man—clean-up, man—it' what well do then we can go out and get some more coffee . . ."
And he just kept going on like that. Peter was like a robot, attacking the task of cleaning up the house with efficiency and tirelessness. It was a little disturbing how he cleaned up the used condoms with such enthusiasm but Edward wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
So the clean-up effort commenced. Edward naturally went to grab a black garbage bag but realized that those were all in the garage.
It was dark outside though Edward walked slowly to avoid walking on the Halloween decorations that the guests from the party totally fucked up.
As Edward walked in the dark pre-dawn hours, his stomach began to tell him something. Gagging and wrenching, Edward fell to his knees and threw up the large amount of alcohol he's consumed in the recent time frame.
As he knelt on the ground, it felt like he was vomiting his whole life out. It was all on the ground before him in a great, smelly puddle of ooze and bad bile.
Edward began to dry wretch as another wave of nausea hit him. More vomiting commenced until his body had finally purged itself of all the bad poisons from the reckless weekend.
As he continued to puke up his guts, Edward felt hollow. He was hungry, tired and in mourning. He was honestly regretting his licentious behaviour. Even Peter was going to regret it sooner or later and that man couldn't even spell "regret."
As he lay pathetic and weak, Edward could feel the vomit start to trickle against his knees. Yet he felt something in his stomach; not nausea but a sense of foreboding. He was being watched.
Edward turned round and started to scan. Yes, he could feel it in his animal brain that someone or something was watching him. "Whose there?" he called out in a voice that was devoid of the confidence that had been his trademark.
No answer came, yet from the fathomless shadows there was a sound, like a rustling of cloth or a man shifting his weight. Yes, there was most certainly something there.
"Who are you?" he asked, come out. Just for the smallest moment Edward was worried that some madman or wild animal was waiting to pounce on him. The silence was killer; he knew not what to expect. He certainly didn't expect a voice from the dead to ring out.
"Edward," came that one word, from the voice of a man who'd been dead for two years; a man who'd broken through Edward's protective shell and brought out a fine, kind man to the world.
Edward looked up as if he'd seen a ghost. There was no way that voice could be real. It must be a side effect of the drugs; it had to be.
"No," Edward whispered as he knelt before a pool of vomit. "You died," he breathed.
Moisture started to cloud Edward's vision and he clenched his fists hard enough to draw blood with is nails. "I let you fall." Regret was etched into every fibre of his being like a permanent, painful tattoo.
He looked up and a new emotion entered his voice that had not been present in a long time, hope. "Is that you?" he hardly dared to ask, as if just by asking the whole thing would vanish in a puff of smoke.
Behind Edward, only a few moths flying around the outside light on the back of the house bore witness to these events. Peter was still inside cleaning up used condoms and enjoying it more than anyone should have the right to.
No reply came and Edward spoke a little more forcefully. "Please, I need to know that it's you," he began to plead, "I need to know that I'm not just losing my mind."
There was hesitation from the shadows but in the end an answer would not be denied, "It's me, Edward."
A hurricane of emotions spun through Edward, threatening to cause a meltdown just like three days ago at the breakfast table and the cheese story. "How can it be you?" Edward's voice was so quiet. "I thought you were . . . I thought . . . "the sentence was too horrible to finish.
His lower lip quivered as he finally finished that unspeakable sentence, "I thought you died."
More hesitation came from the shadows. Hidden in the dark, Jasper could feel every bit of emotion emanate from his mate like a cascade of sparks from a fire. Each spark seared his skin and Jasper felt tormenting grief and agony for performing this charade but it had to be done.
Biting his lip, Jasper tried to ignore Edward's emotions; the power of being able to sense emotions was truly a curse. Normally Jasper only felt rage or puppy like shock in those he killed; but grief and guilt were a thousand times worse.
Even more troubling was that with his vampire eyes, Edward was a thousand times more beautiful than before. Jasper could see all his mate's faults and highlights and it was all so marvellous. Marvellous and sad.
In a moment though, Jasper suppressed the feeling. Maria's conditioning took over. He felt nothing because he was a dog. He was only here because the last remnant of his human persona dragged him here. As a good dog he'd end this farce and return to his master and accept the punishment he so richly deserved. Because he was a good dog.
He unconsciously touched the metal collar around his neck. "I was dying, it was cloudy; someone found me."
Edward couldn't believe what he was hearing; he had a puzzle and more than half the pieces were missing. "What do you mean?" He daren't say Jasper's name; it was a sacred name and to speak it again would end the dream.
"It doesn't matter," came Jasper's flat, inflectionless voice.
Edward looked into the shadows and shakily stood up. Before he went further down the rabbit hole there was something he needed to ask. "Come into the light," he requested.
Once more there was hesitation. This was utterly out of character for Jasper. He never used to pussyfoot around any issue; always straightforward and honest was he. Perhaps the years had changed him.
Slowly, painfully slow, glacial slow; Jasper came into the harsh light cast by the outdoor lamp on Edward's house.
Edward held his breath as the face of his love walked into the light like some creature of the night.
Yes, there could be no mistake, this was Jasper. The only Jasper that there ever was, was in front of Edward now. Yet it wasn't Jasper.
The person that Jasper had become was starkly different from the man he'd been. He was clad in an all-black outfit that looked like it'd been taken from the back rack at the Goodwill store. Around his neck Edward could make out a silver dog's collar.
God, what had Jasper been through these two years they'd been apart?
Most striking of all was the change to Jasper's body. His face had hardened. Gone was any fat or softness in his features. He was hard as stone and sharp as steel. His eyes that once twinkled with kindness now were hard, cold and uncaring as the stars above. His full lips, red and bright against his pale skin were turned down in a straight faced semi-scowl.
Jasper's once handsome neck now strained his metal collar with thick cords of muscle under skin that was as white as the worms which live under stones and logs.
On his features, the change that stood out the most were his eyes. The Texan's once baby blues had transformed into a bestial crimson. Those red eyes scanned Edward and made him feel exposed. All innocence was gone from Jasper.
And for all these changes, Edward could feel nothing but relief.
Jasper walked until he and Edward were at arm's length and no further.
Edward was speechless; he knew not what to think let alone what to say. It was his most impossible dream realized. Truly the heavens had granted him this one wish.
As if in sleepwalk, Edward slowly reached out his arm to touch Jasper.
"Stop," Jasper's steel voice halted Edward's touch. Edward froze, afraid of the changes in his beloved.
A silence fell before them. That was nothing new. Many times, Jasper and Edward had lain together in perfect silence and in perfect contentment; happy to do nothing but lie still together and hold hands to smile.
The silence now was anything but comfortable. If anything, Edward was aware of a painful and very real distance between them. This was new and it was scary.
Edward stumbled over the words, "Look, Jasper," he swallowed, "I'm not sure what happened to you but come inside. I've missed you so much. Whatever happened, we can talk about it."
In Jasper's red eyes a glimmer of humanity was there and then was gone like smoke in the wind. "I'd like that," he tried and failed to conceal his regret.
Edward stepped closer to the crimson demon that had his Jasper locked inside him. "Then come back to me, Jasper. I don't care what's happened to you."
Jasper lowered his head. He could no longer meet with Edward's gaze.
"I know you're still the man I fell in love with."
This caused a tremor of anger in Jasper's body. "Is that what you think?" he asked in a voice that wasn't human; a bestial hiss.
Until now he'd been holding his hands behind his back. Revealing them made Edward's eyes widen. Jasper's hands were now long fingered killing tools; with an extra joint on them and long, bronze coloured claws. "I am not the man you knew," he seethed.
He looked at his hands and looked up, fangs protruding from his mouth; the rest of his teeth replaced with translucent sharp needles. "These are my weapons and I am different."
Yet to Jasper's total shock, Edward didn't run away screaming. Instead, he threw himself on Jasper and threw his arms around him.
Only the grace of god and utter shock prevented Jasper from disembowelling Edward out of instinct.
Knowingly or unknowingly, Edward leaned in such a way that exposed his succulent neck to Jasper. God, he'd eaten so recently but he was always hungry. The mere sound of a human heartbeat threatened to turn Jasper into a raging animal of instinct; only Maria's conditioning made him stop. He needed the order to feed.
"It's alright, Jasper," Edward tried to sooth the savage beast that was his mate, "Whatever is wrong, it's nothing we can't overcome."
Jasper began to grind his sharp teeth. This wasn't working. In his mind, Maria's conditioning and his own vampire nature were fighting against his old persona of Jasper Whitlock-Cullen and the human Jasper was fighting valiantly but being buried. He could not lose sight of his true purpose here.
"There's no "we" Edward," said Jasper.
Instantly, Edward froze. He looked up with shock in his bleary eyes, "What?"
"I mean," and with that, Jasper said something that he would regret for the rest of his immortal life, "I mean that I don't want you."
He pulled away from Edward. "I'm sorry, but this is how it has to be." Then he was gone like a memory.
Edward stood there with his arms open, waiting for the embrace that would never come. He felt bad.
Honestly, he felt worse.
His one true love had died and then two years later he came back somehow, only to tell Edward that he didn't want him.
It was a crime! It was a travesty! It was . . . it was. . .
Edward turned and held himself as if he were cold. His fingernails dug into his shoulders convulsively, as if he were trying to make himself bleed.
From his throat tore a pitiful half squeal that sounded like a scream of pain. His breathing became ragged hyperventilation. He felt like he was choking and couldn't breathe.
Blindly, Edward began to stumble back towards the house. Tripping through the back door, he slammed the light switch with his fist; killing the back light and smashing the switch into broke plastic.
Edward half gasped, half shrieked as he blindly moved into the kitchen. He looked like he wanted to cry but no amount of tears could quench the anguish in his mind, soul and heart.
Even if he could, all his tears were completely spend and now nothing was left but a hollow man with no purpose in life, no reason to live and without a speck of hope for anything.
Edward felt cold. He felt the darkness suffocating him and killing him. The whole world was a nightmare which he wanted nothing more than to wake up. It was all one giant nightmare that he thought was reality.
Suddenly, Edward tripped and fell. As he fell, he didn't even stop himself from falling. He just hit the floor of the kitchen hoping that his skull would be smashed.
Twitching like a wounded animal, Edward desired nothing more than to be put out of his misery.
Crawling like a leper, he opened the knife drawer with trembling hand and pulled out the longest, sharpest knife in the drawer.
It was that moment that Edward was about to slit his wrists that Peter came barging in like a charging buffalo and saw what the fuck was going on. He knew nothing of the encounter outside and he was still drugged out of his mind.
Immediately, Peter dropped the garbage bag he was holding and pulled out a crowbar from his belt, the very one that Esme had given him to break Edward's arms.
His hand wrapped around Edward's wrist like a steel vice, halting the knife only an inch before it could cut into the soft flesh of Edward's wrists.
Compulsively, Edward began to make a high pitched whine like a frightened baby and claw at Peter.
Ignoring the clawing and odd noises, Peter wretched the knife out of Edward's grasp. As the young man screamed in angst, Peter swung the crowbar and struck Edward across the side of the head.
Stars filled Edward's field of vision and mercifully he slipped once more into black oblivion. Now if only he could slip into oblivion and never come back.
Peter stood over Edward, breathing heavily. This was frankly beyond his experience. Edward needed help, badly; and Peter's drugged out brain recognized that he wasn't the man who was qualified to give that help.
For once, the hard fisted Greek bar fighter was utterly helpless. Peter hadn't been this helpless since he'd failed math class in first grade and his father gave him a dress down in front of all of his friends for his laziness. Impotently, his hands gripped the crowbar.
For once, the feel of iron hitting skull had no pleasure to it. Peter cursed his own uselessness.
Suddenly the phone rang and Peter grabbed it without hesitation. Maybe it was Edward's family; they'd need to be warned at some point or else they might start blaming Peter for Edward's promise.
Instead, on the other end of the phone was an electronically distorted baritone voice that said, "I'm looking for Edward Whitlock-Cullen?"
Peter however had nothing to say to the distorted voice on the line, "Each my spicy cock," and then he hung up the phone.
Edward awoke nearly twenty four hours later. A combination of Peter's crowbar and the stress and sleeplessness of the weekend had weakened him dramatically.
For a moment, Edward only felt sick, tired and weak. In fact, he felt much worse physically than he did when he was knocked unconscious. Then he remembered what happened and he shuddered as if he'd ingested poison.
It was almost dawn, but when the sun rose Edward would feel no warmth. His whole world had needed. There was no tomorrow.
He curled up, not even having the strength necessary to grab another knife and end it all. Maybe he'd just take some pills with booze. Go to sleep and never wake up; it sounded like an easy way to go from this nightmare.
Suddenly however, the phone rang and Edward ignored it. The phone rang until the answering machine took it. Then the phone rang again.
Edward lay on the ground and the phone rang.
The phone never stopped ringing. It only kept on ringing and ringing and ringing and . . .
Eventually Edward could take no more of that horrid, idiotic, mindless tone. He forced himself up and began to reach for that damnable phone.
The caller on the phone must have been persistent because it took Edward nearly two minutes to pick up the damn thing.
At last he picked up the receiver and spoke in a grey voice, "I'm going to kill myself."
On the other end, Edward could hear the sound of electronically distorted baritone laughter. "I'm looking for Edward Whitlock-Cullen."
For a moment, confusion entered Edward's otherwise empty skull. Who could be looking for him? "Speaking," he said flatly.
Shakily, Edward leaned against the counter of the kitchen. Peter really had done a good job cleaning up, but where was he? He started to look around for his friend. As he noticed Peter slumped over at the kitchen table, the distorted voice spoke, "I'm just an old friend, looking for another old friend. Do you know where I can find Jasper Whitlock-Cullen?"
Edward's head began to spin at the mention of his name. "Never speak that name to me, ever!" he ground out in anger. Even in grief, he felt nothing but betrayal at his hands.
The distorted voice chuckled once more, "So you've seen your butt buddy lately?"
"Who is this?" Edward said in a cold voice.
Was this a joke? Maybe it was a prank call. Maybe he's just have Peter track down this guy and knee cap him like a good little boy.
Speaking of Peter, he wasn't looking so good.
Edward was just about to call to his friend when suddenly the man fell over on his side, off of the chair. It took Edward a second to realize it in the dim kitchen but Peter had a dart sticking out of his neck.
Edward's green, reddened eyes widened with horror at the sight of his friend prone and drugged on the ground. Was he dead?
Edward ran to check Peter's pulse but he forgot about the phone and the darn plastic contraption clattered to the ground.
As the phone dangled on the wire, Edward could hear the distorted voice running itself off.
Suddenly, through the emptiness, Edward felt white hot anger. He may have lost Jasper but even in these times nobody dared to cross his friends. He'd not let Peter down like he let Jasper down.
It was obvious; Jasper left Edward because he was a slut and a disgrace but Peter deserved better.
Snatching the phone, Edward snarled into the receiver. "Whoever you are, I have a gun and I'm going to kill you."
The voice laughed, "Good, good my boy. Because I also have a gun; it's the greatest gun ever made." That last phrase made Edward freeze like a statue. He dropped the receiver but even so, he could still hear the distorted voice and he knew who it was.
He hardly even noticed when Jasper smashed through the nearest window in full vamp mode. If he was formidable before he was terrifying now. His mouth was open in humanly wide to reveal massive panther like fangs and multiple rows of translucent needle like teeth. His red eyes bulged until they were nearly outside of his head and his elbows and knees seemed to be able to bend backwards and forwards at will.
With his inhuman mouth, Jasper howled a warning to Edward. Unlike before, Edward felt himself recoil in fear form Jasper; not out of fear of his life but for fear of what he might say.
"Run Edward!" the beastly Jasper howled like a mix of a roaring crocodile and a bursting steam valve, "He's making the call from inside the house!"
Jasper bounded up the stairs with speed that matched the velocity of some bullets. Yet before he could even get up the stairs into Edward's bedroom, something hit him with enough force to knock him back.
"No!" Edward screamed as a series of pages with magic runes wrapped themselves around Jasper and bound him like the coils of a constrictor. Jasper snarled, spat black bile and struggled but the magic runes on the parchment would not let him break free.
Edward ran to his fallen—mate?—whatever he was he ran to Jasper to help. Some things just weren't easily forgotten.
Yet both human and vampire went silent as a pair of cowboy boots going down the stairs resonated through the now silent and lifeless house.
Edward's eyes widened with true terror as Revolver Ocelot walked down the stairs in his resplendent undead glory.
No! There was no way that man could still be alive! Jasper being alive was a blessing but no curse or biblical plague could rival that of the resurrected Ocelot. The man must be the very devil himself of Dante's epic poem to return in such a way
Ocelot slowly walked down the stairs. His new and freshly washed cowboy duds were spoiled by the large amount of blood splashed across the front of his white dress shirt. His long duster billowed out behind him like Dracula's cape.
He held his arms wide and his pistols glinted proudly at his side. "A man does not die of love or his liver or old age; he dies of being a man," he quoted a famous man. In the dark of pre-dawn his eyes glowed from out of their pupils a putrid, yellow light like the activity of certain cave fungi.
Stopping dead in his tracks, Ocelot ran backwards up the stairs and flicked on the light switch. Like a movie star he wanted good lighting before he ruined someone else's life.
Edward honestly wished that Ocelot hadn't turned on the light. Now he could fully see the man's unnaturally blue complexion, his chipped yellow teeth like sharp flints and the dead varicose veins that decorated his skin in random places.
Ocelot continued to walk down the stairs like a singer making a comeback tour, "From my rotting body flowers shall grow, and I am in them and that is eternity," he laughed heartily. "I am become death! The destroyer of worlds!"
He was almost at the bottom of the stairs when Zombie Ocelot pointed a gloved, skeletal finger at Edward and the still struggling Jasper, "I am become death and you are fucked!"
I hope you enjoyed that :D In the next one, Zombie Ocelot explains how he came back to life and what he's going to do to his hated enemies, Jasper and Edward. Both men will be forced to face their sins and no man will be the same for ever after :D
The Death Quotes are respectively by Miguel de Unamuno, Edvard Munch and Robert Oppenheimer.
If you want some good reading, check out Baxratty and his amazing Doctor Who and Hellsing crossover, Valhallah: Road to Hell. Also worth reading is Blacksand1's story Hostilities. And just check out any of my favourites for good reading
I love all you guys,
Ta
Master of the Boot