No Angel

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Gay and Lesbian  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a story about an unusual walk of shame. Or this is a story about a mission gone sexy? Mainly this is a story about an awkward young man after his battle with a drug lord.

Submitted: August 19, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 19, 2016



Torn wasn’t the correct word you could have called the curtain and the bed that morning. Shredded. Shredded could better describe the sun-bleached curtains as it became the victim to a knife fight. Demolished is what anyone else would call the bed as two shotgun blasts demolished the white porcelain headboard. And out of the blue, a sledgehammer destroyed some of the bedsprings and the metal lining holding the bed on both legs. Staring at the beams of light in the ceiling, he thought about the last shotgun blast that went off during the tussle over the gun. It was loud, intense, and powerful like how he ended up in bed.

After that, there was no point in remembering. Because the same thing would happen like all the other times. First, the two of them would knock the weapons out of each other’s hand. Then, someone gets punched in the gut, head-butted in the nose, and then biting of various places. Finally, clothes are ripped off …literally. And then thrusting, slapping,  pounding,  screaming, biting, scratching, hair pulling, biting, more thrusting, grunting, climaxing, and finally sleeping.

He looked up at his reflection in the mirror and sighed. So many bruises dressed his brown skin that it could have been mistaken for a bad bar fight. Or at the very least how good it was before the morning rays reminded how he messed up again. It was another reminder that another attempt at killing the Jar Head menace had gone to waste. It was another wasted moment at not putting down the Military Dog and throwing him down the gutter and forgetting about him. Yet again, the Metal Leg Wonder was able to survive another onslaught of cuts, stabbings, and shootings that would have taken down stronger man then him.

But there was one thing he had accomplished. After weeks of not getting anywhere on the drug cartel mission, he had finally slaughtered the main operation working within the city.  They didn’t see him coming either. Once he took out the front door guards with a steal pipe, the rest fell with bullet after bullet. Until he had run out of bullets upstairs and had to take on the Boss in charge with only a knife. And somehow Jar Head was waiting for him.  It was a long nine weeks picking through the rusted buildings full of burnt out denizens of the unsavory part of the city.

 That was, until one day his trusted line of information got wind of an operation that was connected to the target.  Follow your way back to The Gutters and you’ll find their warehouse…or at least that’s how simple the tipper made it sound. In reality following The Gutters wasn’t a simple task.  It wasn’t on any map, and it wasn’t like just walking down to projects to find them. No, you had to be invited to the gutters. It was a living breathing  underbelly of crime which, if no one knew your name…you couldn’t be invited. So after weeks of pretending to be someone similar to his look and build, he was able to find one of the hide outs of the cartel in the warehouse district.

What he saw was horrifying. He saw groups of people locked away in cages like animals. He saw body parts thrown around the floor like scraps. He saw jars full of orange eyes and stands with white hair turned into wigs. It was ghastly as he watch one man plead for death with IV’s in his veins. He thought the worse thing he had to worry about was the drug “NU Wave” on the streets, but he saw something that reminded him of his own past life.

He remembered the one girl, who looked only to be about 14 and hopped up on NU Wave. She had eyes hollowed with haze and skin as pale as paper. She looked like she would break if he touched her wrong and her hair would crumble if you tried to comb through it.  A girl, who should’ve had her whole life ahead of her, was to be sold and used as product on a shelf.

He remembered the look in her eyes as if she prayed for her tragic life to end. He remembered the look of fear she had as he tortured the man in charge for answers. In fact he felt bad for the way chopped up the armed thugs holding her and the other captives in the building. No one should have to watch that type of violence, and yet she never took her eyes off him.  And the look on her face as she was carried out of the dungeon she called home was strange.

On one end of the emotional spectrum she looked as if she was finally finding freedom, but on the other end she looked as if she was being transported to another hell. The city can be scary he guessed. But her expression as the police came was interesting to note. It made him feel like he had finally done something good, rather than just kill and screw with the best of them.  

For one moment, he was human and not some 19 year old killer.

There was something else about that girl, which was familiar. It was a look in her eyes, but he couldn’t place where he had seen the look from. Why he thought about her now, he couldn’t say. But her eyes haunted him as he laid there in bed. But the last thing he remembered was reading her accounts of everything and the name she names him: “Angel of Shadows”

 And after that the title “Angel of Shadows” became his alias in the press. Every time he made a move to shut down a place “Angel of Shadows” would appear. Every time he stabbed some street king with a sword “Angel of Shadows” would appear. And after a while, he became self-conscious. The title didn’t match him. It didn’t match what he did. He wasn’t some angel or patron saint, especially not after what he does. And even more so now after what he did that night. He had the ungodly markings on his body comparative to that of the scarlet letter to prove that.

After skipping down the dreaded memories of his failure and triumphs, he turned his body away from the mirror and picked up the silver flask on the dresser. Jarhead had left it behind, and knowing him, it was probably his way of saying ‘I was here’. And in the young killer’s mind it might as well had said ‘I fucked you here’.

 Taking a swig he frowned up his face and coughed.  Fuck this guy. He has horrible taste in whiskey, he thought. Slowly, the boy slid the covers off of himself and looked at the scratch marks and bruises that decorated his legs. He rolled his eyes as he forced himself up with both feet planted on the floor. Then took another swig of whiskey and got up from the bed. He looked down at the floor and noticed that most of his gear was shredded beyond repair.

After a few minutes of searching through the rubble in the room, he found his compression shorts, his googles, his gloves, a black tank top that was hanging on the mirror that smelled like cologne and cigars, a large dress orange dress shirt, and a pair of orange and black tennis shoes. He tried to find a pair of pants in the room that could fit him, but all he found in the wardrobe was a bunch of oversized pants and a few pair of women’s jogging pants that read ‘juicy’ on the back. To keep what little of his dignity that he had left he decided to just wear the shorts.  

 He looked at himself at the full body mirror and sighed. He brushed his disheveled white hair with his hand back in place. Then, he looked at the long scar that stretched from his cheek to his chin from last year’s assassination attempt. He placed his strapless googles over his eyes and headed for the door when a cell-phone rang.

“Hello,” he answered.

“Oh my God, do you know how many phones  I had to hack to find you?” the voice said.

“Monica what’s wrong and you did what-”.

“Ther- po- com-”.

“I didn’t get that,”

“Some-The police- on their way,”

The boy was about to say something else until he heard sirens blaring outside the house. He wondered who would have noticed anything seeing as the house was on the abandoned part of town where the other houses were going to be demolished. He took a few steps towards the door but looked down to see a piece of paper with bold writing on it: POLICE WILL BE HERE SOON.

The boy kicked the piece of paper and groaned. He looked out the window and saw police cars forming outside the house. He kicked the wardrobe with a look of disgust on his face and a beam collapsed from the ceiling onto the bed. The boy smiled as he ran up the incline after his act of frustration succeeded just before he heard the police slam through the front door of the house. 

“Alright, I’m upstairs,” he said to himself as he heard more feet storm up the stairs. He moved towards the doors of the balcony facing the backyard and looked at the backyard and the alley behind it.

“How the hell am I supposed to get there?” he asked. He heard another set of footsteps reaching the third floor and frowned.  Scoping out the area again he noticed that there was a couple of rosebushes that covered the backyard. The young killer let out a grunt as he leapt from the balcony into a thicket of rosebushes and hid there for a few minutes.

Inside the bushes, he watched a couple of police officers look around and talk for a moment before being called inside. Slowly and painfully, the young man crawled from one bush thicket to the next before reaching the metal fence and the alley.

 The boy took one last look at the house and then the alleyway before making his exit over the metal fence.  He stood there for a moment picking some of the leaves and twigs from out of his hair and putting the orange shirt around his waist.

The boy began to walk off as if there was nothing going on until he heard footsteps coming towards him. He took a deep breath and kept walking before hearing the footsteps grow louder.

“Hey kid,” he heard one person call. He kept walking not hesitating for a moment, before a hand grabbed his shoulder.

“Hey, I asked you to stop, didn’t you hear me?” the gruff voice said. The boy turned around and scratched his head for a moment, not saying a word. He looked at two police officers standing there looking up and down at the boy.

“Can we ask you a few questions?” one of the officers asked. The boy scratched his head again and scrunched up his face.

“Well?” the police officer asked. The boy looked at his hands and began to do a few hand gestures before scratching his head again.

“I think he’s deaf,” the other officer said.

“DO! YOU! UNDERSTAND! WHAT! I’M ASKING!?!” the officer yelled as he tried to make his own hand gestures. The boy scratched his head before cocking it to the side. The boy started to make hand gestures again. The officer threw his hands in the air and became red in the face.

“The kid’s probably deaf,” the other officer said.  

“All I need is a yes or a no, that’s all, is that difficult, just nod your head if you have to,” the police officer said as he over emphasized his words.

His partner rolled his eyes and sighed.

 “Again, I think he’s deaf, and if he could read lips I don’t think he could understand you, besides Detective Johnson wants us back inside.” The officer began “,besides, I don’t think this kid could help us anyways, especially how he’s dressed…I feel sorry for the family…he might be a little…different,” he said.

“Hmph…Fine,” the other officer began “, call us if you have any info.” The police officer handed the boy his card and walked back over towards the house with his partner.  The boy let out a sigh of relief before jogging a few blocks from the house and down towards the convenience store. Taking out the phone out, the boy redialed the number and waited for someone to answer.

“Hello?” he heard a woman answer.

“Monica, I need a ride back ,” he said as he sat down on the corner of the convenience store. There was a long pause followed by a hesitant laugh. The boy let out a sigh.

“What did you do?” the young man asked.

“Don’t freak out, but I already called Suzette-” instantly he hung up the phone.  He ruffled up his hair a bit in frustration and then sighed.  As the temperature began to rise he started to fan himself and used the orange shirt as shield against the sun’s rays.  He sat there for what seemed hours until he heard pop music blasting from  one of the cars.  The boy rolled his eyes as he looked from under his makeshift umbrella.

“Darling…yoohoo…sweetheart, your beautiful princess is here,” a voice called from overtop of the loud music. The boy wrapped the shirt around his waist again and pretended to looked at every direction other than where the voice is coming from. Maybe I can pretend that she doesn’t exist and she’ll go away, he thought to himself.

“Daaarling, I’m getting restless, I know you’re here,” the voice called again. This time it attracted the residential onlookers to stand around and whisper to each other. 

With a frustrated growl the boy marched over to the candy apple red convertible and jumped in the passenger seat. Smiling, the girl sat there grinning from ear to ear as she tapped on the steering wheel.

“Are you going to go?” the boy asked.  The girl shook her head. “Why aren’t you going to go?” he asked.

“You have to say the magic words,” the girl responded.

“Suzette, just drive already,” the boy replied. Suzette sat there shaking her head smiling as she tapped on the wheel some more. “

Oh, God not this again…Suzette we are not kids anymore,” he groaned. The girl shook her head some more.

 “See you do this every time,” he said as the girl began to put on pink lip-gloss.

“Alright fine,” he sighed.

“Come on Barbie…let’s go…party…there I said it,” he said in a mumble.

“I didn’t hear a thing,” Suzette said as she began to put on mascara.

“Fine, Come on Barbie lets go party,” he said loudly. Suzette began to clap wildly before slamming her foot on the gas.

“See, all you have to do is be nice and I will take you anywhere Ken,” Suzette said as she took a sharp turn around some kids on their bikes. The boy gulped as he fear for his life and the children who just happened to be in Suzette’s path.

“First of all Suzette, we really need to do something about your driving,” he began as Suzette went 60 on a 20 mph street “, and second, don’t call me Ken, I am not Ken you and are not Barbie.” Suzette began to laugh as she turned up the volume on her radio.

“I know I’m not Barbie and you are not Ken, but don’t I deserve to at least aspire to being like the great Miss Barbs, I mean…I could be the model for Hit woman Barbie, or Getaway Driver Barbie, or Bringer of Death and Destroyer of Worlds Barbie,” Suzette said confidently.

The boy shook his head and felt an impulse to jump out the car. He looked over to Suzette and felt his eye twitch.

 “Suzette, there is no way in hell that Mattel or any other toy company would want to make a doll like that and who the hell would buy that for their kid?” he responded.

Suzette shook her head as she drifted around an old woman using a walker. The boy’s eyes grew wide as he looked back at Suzette.

“What the hell Suzette?” he exclaimed.  Suzette shrugged her shoulders as she slowed the car down for a stop sign. The boy took a sigh of relief.

 “So anything you need to update me with?” he asked as he looked at a group of girl scouts knocking on some doors.

“Nothing much really, except that we have new neighbors,” Suzette said as she looked over towards with the girl scouts. The boy sitting there shot Suzette an angry look and groaned.

“I know the feeling, just when we got rid of the last neighbors we end up with new ones…and quite fast actually,” she said as she began to speed down the road.

“What do you mean by fast?” the boy asked.

“Well, while you were off in the drug lands, someone  recently bought the houses next door to us and across the street from us, both around the same time,” Suzette said as she slammed her foot on the breaks. The force sent the boy’s head crashing down on the dashboard before bouncing back up on the headrest.

“Suzette!” the boy screamed.

“It isn’t my fault this time, look!” Suzette exclaimed as she pointed ahead of her. After shaking his head the boy looked up to see a girl scout standing 5 inches away from the car with eyes like a deer in headlights.

 “Hey you, haven’t your parents ever told you to look both ways before crossing the street?” Suzette asked. The little girl, no more than seven shook her head and dashed across the street disappearing out of their line of sight.

“…kids scare me sometimes…” the boy said blankly.  He looked over at Suzette who was smiling from ear to ear who had begun to speed down the street again after almost killing a girl scout. “Do you ever learn?” the boy asked. Suzette said nothing, but kept on speeding down road.  The boy looked at the row of one floor houses and sighed.

“But, while we are on the subject of anything new happening…explain how I saw you leave with a whole set of gear and now you’re only wearing what looks to be a few articles of clothing?”  Suzette asked in a teasing song-like voice. The boy glared at her and growled.

 “Oh, no explanation needed, just tell me where you got that hickey from,” Suzette said as she drove up towards the house.

“I don’t have a hickey,” he replied.

“And you don’t look and smell like sex and I’m not a true fan of Barbie,” Suzette replied.

“The word you’re looking for is Fanatic,” he said.

“No, the word I was looking for was slut…as in ‘You look like you had the best night of your life slut’,” Suzette squealed

“Suzette I went on my mission, there were some complications, and I completed it which is why I am in the car listening to you  talk about me being a slut,” the boy said.

“So what you are saying is that you had kinky mission sex…” Suzette said as the young man banged his head on the dashboard.

“ Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my God! OMG, ok ok-” Suzette stopped herself to take a deep breath only to squeal from the top of her lungs before jumping out of the car and running towards the house. The boy shook his head before jumping out of the vehicle and following her. 

Suzette kicked the door to house opened and screamed, “Monica, our young man has finally crossed into new territory of manhood.”

“Suzette now is not a good time for you to-”

“Mike had kinky mission sex!” Suzette screamed.  The young man  stood there with Monica and himself with deer in headlight expressions as Suzette squealed some more in delight.

“Uhm, guys…I would uhm…like to…uhm… introduced you guys to SPC. Geoffrey Arker and his wife Cpt. Lisa Arker who moved here from Toronto all the way here to Virginia…” Monica said as she guided her hand towards Lisa and Geoffrey sitting in the living room. Lisa sat there giggling while Geoffrey turned his head to the side snickering and clearing his throat. Mike glared at Suzette while she looked downwardly drawing circles with her foot. 

“Lisa, Geoffrey, meet Mike and…uhm…Suzette… my siblings.” Monica said

 “It’s nice to meet you guys,” Lisa began “, and congrats Mike on the… new experience.”  Geoffrey nudged his wife a little and snickered.  He then began to sign before poking Lisa in the arm.

“Ow, ok ok, I’ll tell him what you said.”

“Tell me what?” Mike asked.

“He said, that ‘it is a rite of passage and not something to be embarrassed about’,” Lisa said sweetly. Mike nodded his head before flopping on the chair across from the couple. Monica cleared her throat and shooed Suzette out of the room. Most likely she was sending Suzette out of the room to go prepare for her mission.

“Well, we have no secrets here apparently,” Monica began “, and I think that makes for good neighbors.”  The couple nodded in agreement before Geoffrey began to sign something else.

“Uhm, what did he say?” Monica asked.

“He said that, ‘Good neighbors are something we’ve been looking for a long…very long while,’” she replied.  Geoffrey started to sign to some more as Lisa took a sip of her cup and cough.

“Right, I knew I was forgetting something, our daughter Lexi just met up with troop 4598 today and you guys haven’t met her yet.” Lisa said as she got up to go towards the door.  She looked outside and waved somebody over.

“Oh and she’s with Chris and Louise,” Lisa said as she sat back down in her seat.  

Mike looked down at the shoes he acquired from the house and wondered if he should keep them or not. He mind began to wonder as the two women gossiped about

  “I’m so glad those two could also move with us, they’ve been through so much,” Lisa said as she stood there. 

“Do tell,” Monica said as she walked over towards the kitchen table.

“Well Chris and Louise’s mother died a few months ago…drugs, did her in,” Lisa began “ ,so while Chris was on deployment leaving Louise behind with her mother, we didn’t hear a word from the two of them for a long time,”

Geoffrey began to sign and Lisa nodded “Right honey, so we thought they were ok, and then Chris got injured in a raid … after that one bad thing led to another and then we found out that Louise had went missing,”

“Oh dear,” Monica said.

“I know their mother just sold her off as if she was nothing. But I’m just so happy that they’re back together again, “Lisa said. 

Mike somewhat uninterested in the conversation and still feeling a bit embarrassed about decided to slip out of the living room and into the kitchen. Damn, do I really look like a slut, he thought as he looked at his reflection the refrigerator door . He took off his googles and took out an old pair of thick lensed buddy holly glasses from the drawer before grabbing the newspaper on the counter.

He heard the door open and close as footsteps began to shuffle on the hardwood floor. He took a sip of his lemonade while looking at the paper. The headlines read: “Angel in the shadows strikes again.” He sighed as he knew the headlines were talking about him again. He hated the name, because there was no way in hell he looked like an angel after the last two missions. 

“Hey guys, what you think about this Angel...guy,” He said as the sound in his voice disappeared. Standing before him was three people. In front was a girl scout with only 4 badges, and no more than  age 8. On her right stood a girl who looked as if she went through a lot in recent years. Her face was healthier than he had last saw and it look as if she wasn’t praying for death this time. But, when he looked at the last figure he almost jumped and ran for the shotgun hidden behind the television.

“Mike, Monica,  this is our daughter Lexi,” Lisa began as she wrapped her arms around Lexi before putting her on Geoffrey’s lap.  “, and these two are Louise and her brother Cpt. Chris Woodard.” Mike said nothing, but looked down at the Captain’s right leg. He blinked a couple of times before looking back up at the man’s face and then to Louise’s face.

“Well, say hello Mike, don’t be rude,” Monica exclaimed.

“Don’t worry, Chris has that effect on people,” Lisa laughed.

Mike nodded his head. “Hello to all three of you, uhm…Monica I have go,” He said as he backed out of the room. Monica shook her before taking the lemonade and newspaper out of his hand. She the dragged Mike back into the room before placing him back in his chair.

“You have to forgive him, he’s just like my mother, and they’re not good at socializing…besides with Suzette about leave we should at least make our new neighbors feel welcome, right?” Monica said as she brought over two chairs for Chris and Louise to sit on. As the two sat down, Mike couldn’t help but stare at Chris’s leg until he Chris spoke.

“It’s a fancy piece of machinery. I feel like the million dollar man whenever I look at it,” Chris said. 

“I bet you do,” Mike replied with some hostility. The two sat there in tension with Chris beaming from ear to ear and Mike finding a new scowl he had never found before.

“So your name is Mike right?” Mike heard a small voice say. He looked over at Louise and nodded. The girl smiled and poked at Chris saying. “I told you the angel existed.”  Mike sat there empty of color as the words flew out of the girl’s mouth.

Chris with a complex look on his face looked up and said. “I guess you’re kinda right, but that’s no angel.” 

© Copyright 2018 Zwei. All rights reserved.

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