Dark Damsel will continue shortly, but for now, here's a new thread I hope you enjoy. Please note that this story is written not to glorify the acts presented within, but to place them in a context by which you may understand the actions of its characters. It contains graphic violence that may offend some readers. As always, I appreciate your feedback. - BD
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One of my first years on the inside of Gotham's underworld, I worked for Julius Watts - now deceased - former cocaine czar of Gotham. I was an underworld delivery boy, driving around town in a beat up van, dropping off boxes of "fruit" to our clients and collecting bags of money. Its the kind of job you get once you've proven your loyalty to a guy as well as demonstrated a clear understanding that failure and disloyalty are met with cruel and swift retribution.
Julius was a quiet man of fifty, a widower, who had a beautiful daughter, Mona. Mona was 19 with a slender figure, long golden yellow hair and a habit of dressing in the tightest and most flattering outfits as she worked the phones for her father and kept the records on computer. Mona also suffered from multiple sclerosis and was bound to a motorized wheelchair. When we showed for work, the lot of us - 12 guys in all - would go by Mona and pay our respects, get our "marching orders" and even flirt a bit. We knew the beautiful Mona was off-limits. There was an invisible line you didn't cross with her, lest her father bring down the weight of his empire on you. Sometimes Mona would turn up the heat on some of our guys, pushing up her chest in a tight black tank top or wool sweater depending on the time of year, put on the glossy red lipstick and laugh at the bad jokes and stories while rolling a ballpoint pen between her lips. Being the new guy, I look am interest in the boss' daughter - professionally of course. I brought her fresh flowers when the ones on her desk began to fade. I'd make a point of ensuring she had a good lunch on her busy days and access to everything she needed. My first Christmas, I drew lots and became her "secret Santa" opting to take some of November's profit share and get her a nice silver chain for around her slender neck. (Yes, we have Christmas even in the underworld...except where I give shit like necklaces and special ammo, I usually get a half bottle of booze or something just stolen off the back of a truck or from some poor schmuck's wallet.)
After Christmas, I would spend more time than I knew I should talking Russian art and politics with her, shooting the breeze about the recent City Council votes...you know, the kind of talk you don't get from guys with thick foreheads and six-word vocabularies. She was sweet, pretty and very sexy. I grew to like her, but I never crossed that line. Mamma Anaxandros didn't raise no dummies. I'd be lying to say I wasn't also distancing myself for selfish reasons, too. Mona was self-reliant, but still required an awful lot of extra attention I was too selfish to give in exchange for more intimate conversations...or activities.
About six months into the job, Julius pulled me aside and scared the piss out of me by saying, "Vlady, my boy...you're spending too much time in the office with my little girl." I was so scared, I didn't even mind him calling me 'Vlady'. He had two goons follow me into his office and close the door. Surrounded by sandbags full of blow, Julius had a seat and looked at me. "Vlady" he began giving me the "fatherly" look, "you know my rule about Mona. She's my pride and joy. I look afte rher since her mom died and I'll be fucked in garlic sauce if I allow anything bad to happen to her."
I nodded. "Absolutely, sir...if anything I've done was...."
"Last week, Falderbrook comes to me and says, 'Ay boss, that new kid Vladamir...he's a spending a lot of time with your girl....sittin' on her desk, crackin' jokes...makin' her smile and laugh....'" He let his eyes roll and gestured in a manner totally unlike Falderbrook. He continued, narrowing his eyes and clamping my head in his complete attention. "'...and I think one of the boys saw him givin' her a peck on the cheek."
I said nothing. I couldn't. My throat was dry and all my concentration was on keeping from crapping my pants. The goons beside me winced as if a scorpion in their pants suddenly clipped a testy but were under orders not to react.
Julius sat back and removed a remote control from his desk. Nowadays, if I saw one of those I'd get nervous a trap door would open underfoot, or a killer robot would rise up and cut someone in half, but back then it was just an old TV remote. He clicked on a small TV/VCR job sitting on his bookscase. The goon to my left groaned as if to say, "oh not THIS again. I stepped forward to watch the tape.
There was Mona, looking younger, hair shorter, but with the same fashion sense, a low-cut blouse and a short black miniskirt. The office was the same, but the carpet was different and there weren't any bags of illegal narcotics lying around. There was no sound. Mona was sitting in a plain metal wheelchair by her father's desk, sorting folders she had on her lap with ones on the desk.
I watched the tape and the time index jumped from 19:05 to 19:17 when I saw Mona's head snap up from her work toward the door behind me. Where I stood then, I saw on the screen a man step into the shot. He was a big guy, about seven feet tall, dressed in a black suit with a bad cut. Mona was clearly surprised to see him as all the folders slid out of her grasp and onto the floor in front of the desk. She began talking to the shape excitedly, pleasantly at first, but when he took a step forward, she grew angry and I could see her gesturing awkwardly toward him. The shape stepped forward again, bending down to pick up the fallen folders. Mona turned her chair to face him, maybe threatening to run him down if he didn't leave, but when he was done putting back the folders, he turned to her, still on one knee. I thought I recognized the guy, but the image was too blurry.
Kneeling, the guy's head was up to Mona's chest. He continued to speak to a scared Mona as she slowly backed her chair from him, toward the wall where the VCR sat, the same one now playing this scene. The hulking figure reached out and grabbed the sides of the chair in his hands, pulling her to him. Mona screamed, looking up at the camera, looking right into my eyes and I felt for her. It felt as though I were experiencing it in that room, except watching the ghosts of the tragedy replay it out for me.
Rarely have I felt as uncomfortable. In later years I grew desensitized to it, even threatening those kinds of things to deter certain superheroine behavior, but then...I'd never stoop to what this sad piece of shit did next.
As Mona beat the hell out of the guy's thick, leathery head, he forced up the front of her skirt and leansed forward into her lap. A digitized block obscured what he was doing, but it was clear. The timecode jumped ahead three minutes to Mona being lifted out of her chair and being brought down on her father's desk. Her liefless legs were spread around the rapist's thighs and I could see her face looking up at the camera, full of tears, a blackening left eye swelling shut. I turned to her father, who covered his eyes from the scene. Tears traced the lines of his face to his cheeks. A catcher's mit of a hand forced my head back to the screen and held it in position.
On the screen, the timecode had jumped another five minutes. The beast was almost on top of the poor girl, having his way. Mona's eyes were closed and she didn't react at all. Her limp body rocked against the desk as the beast continued his assault.
Another Timecode jump five minutes and three men burst into the room in workout clothes - shorts and tanks. Two of these men were the ones who stood beside me, the one holding my head was the first to reach the attacker. With a quick flip, the assailant flew backward, digital boxes covering the revealed sex of his victim during the coitus interruptus. The attacker's engorged penis, however, was left in full view as he fell to the floor. I recognized the guy, but not the name..."Killer" or "Crusher" Something-ski a former wrestler.
