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Disclaimer: All characters and events in this story are fictitious, and any similarity to a real person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and unintended by the author. "The Pretender" is a protected trademark of MTM Television and NBC and the characters of that series are used herein with no mean intent or desire for remuneration. It is, instead, a tribute to innovative television, that rare and welcome phenomenon.
Rating: R (male/male sexual situations, violence, language)
Parts: 1
Feedback:
Author: CloudStrifeX
Copyright: 1998
To All Things, An End
Part One
of One
Jared pressed his face against the frosted glass, watching the people eating their mid-day meals in peace. He slowly moved away from the front of the café, turning as he did to look at the grungy streets of St. Louis as he did so. Overheard, the Metrolink roared by. It never failed to impress him, with it’s thunder of passage and the swirling winds that followed it. A lot of things impressed Jared nowadays.
Well, he thought, I guess that comes with be locked up in a goddamn lab almost all your life. You miss out on the world.
A smile crossed Jared’s lips as he moved along the garbage-strewn road. He was a big, muscular man, with dark hair and mysterious eyes. Ruggedly handsome, he still carried about him an air of melancholy.
Jared turned left down the alley next to the city’s courthouse. It was dimly lit here, and he could just make out a few homeless people sleeping in the piles of waste that were stacked high to the building’s side. Squashing his feelings of pity inside him, he moved quickly, emerging from the alley’s other end.
The city’s problems would have to wait.
He was on a mission.
One he could not fail.
* * * *
The Centre sat menacingly on the hillside, staring down at the city of Blue Cove as if daring it to lodge a complaint. Inside the massive structure, a bustle of activity rippled back and forth along the hallway.
But one woman was relaxed, as if the troubles outside didn’t touch her.
Beautiful, with dark hair and crystal blue eyes that held no emotion, she sat her desk, a lit cigarette smoldering between her lips. Her slim, lovely legs were propped up, the heels of the stilettos braced against a computer.
An older man, gray-haired but with an air of power, entered the room. His face is hard and grim; his shoulders are slumped as if some great weight rests upon them.
The woman smiled. A cold and cruel grin. "Sydney," she said, "Pardon my French, but what the fuck do you want?"
"Miss Parker," the man replied, "We have a serious problem here. Or haven’t you noticed the commotion right outside your office."
She grins again, "I did notice, actually. I was just trying to ignore it."
After Sydney remains quiet for a moment, Miss Parker asked, "Well, are you going to tell me what’s fucking going on, or are we going to sit her all goddamn day and jack off."
"It’s Broots.." Sydney said, stumbling, "well.. actually it’s the whole computer staff. They… well they…"
"Spit it out, goddamn it."
"The Computer Staff. They’re just… gone."
* * * *
Jared halted his march in front of the police station, an aging and decaying structure. He cast his eyes upwards, glaring at the dirty windows of the second floor. With a deep inhalation of breath, he stepped inside.
A fat, balding man sat at the table, a doughnut almost crushed in his left hand. He took a look at Jared as he entered, surveying the man as if trying to look into his soul. Jared pasted a smile on his face and moved over to him.
"Hello," he said affably, "I need to see Captain Buliman."
"Ya’s got an appointment," the man behind the table asked.
"No," Jared replied, "Actually, I don’t. Is that a problem?"
The fat cop smiled, "Not really. Most peoples comin’ in here ain’t got one."
The cop led him down a series of long, winding hallways, each more dirty and dimly lit than the last. Finally, they came to a scarred, cracking office door. The nametag, which read Buliman, hung haphazardly at it’s center.
Jared knocked on the door, and a gruff voice said, "Come in!" He opened the door, and the presence of Captain Harvey Buliman washed over him.
Buliman was big, not fat, but like a mass of pure muscle. He had greasy brown hair, a scruffy goatee, and eyes that were so light blue they were almost white. He stared at his visitor with distaste.
"Who the fuck are you?" he said, his voice deep and gravelly.
"My name’s Jared Green, and I’m here… well, I’m here to…"
Jared flew across the room, moving with an unnatural speed. Gripping Buliman’s arm, which was reaching for a gun hidden beneath the desk, he forced the large man to the ground. He held him there, whispering into his ear.
"I’m sorry to do things like this, but I don’t have time to be subtle," Jared’s voice rippled with restrained anger. "Now listen, and listen good, you and all you crooked buddies are going down. You can take that to the bank."
Jared brought his hand down on the back of Buliman’s neck, knocking the man out.
Then, with a whirl of air, Jared was gone, leaving behind no solid evidence of his visit.
* * * *
"How can an entire goddamn department disappear?" Miss Parker screamed over the dull roar of the office around here. Everyone was still in a flurry of motion, desperately seeking the answer to that very question.
"We’re not sure," Sydney replied, "One minute they were here, then poof. Nothing."
"Well, we better find them pretty fucking fast, or we’re all in some very deep shit."
And for the first time, in all the time he had known, Sydney actually thought Miss Parker sounded worried.
* * * *
How do I get myself into shit like this, Broots thought as he shuffled into the darkened room. A large, frightening man stood at the room’s apex, watching at the rest of the computer staff took their seats. Then, he motioned to Broots.
Broots was a small, balding man, not very handsome but always eager to please. He had a thin frame, and he had the sickening realization as he walked over that this man could snap him like a twig if he wanted.
No smile crossed the man’s lips as Broots reached him. He looked at the small computer nerd and said, "You are the one called Broots, are you not?"
Then small man nodded.
"I am called Daniel. I have been told by my employer to keep a close eye on you."
Broots stood, remaining silent.
Daniel motioned to a seat to the left of where he stood. "You will sit here."
Broots took his place, and Daniel handed him a sheet of paper. It read Assignment, in jagged crooked letters. With a sigh, Broots unfolded it.
As he went to work, the room fell silent, save for the sound of hundreds of fingers typing.
* * * *
Buliman shivered, despite the warmness of the day, as he stood on the top floor of the abandoned parking garage. He glanced about nervously.
Suddenly, a voice behind him said, "I never thought I’d see your ugly ass again."
Buliman turned suddenly, his hand falling instinctively on his gun. But when he saw who it was, he cursed under his breath.
A pair of men stood at the top of the steps. One was a thin, weak looking man with hair almost as dirty as Buliman’s. The other, a burly black man with a scar running down his cheek, was the one who had spoken.
"Holy shit, Chrisatman, I could have killed you, you dumb motherfucker," Buliman said, his voice venomous.
The black man smiled, "You always were a lousy fucking shot."
Buliman glared, "What took you all so damn long."
Chrisatman stopped smiling, "Hey, me and Jonsan here got lives, you know. We can’t be expected to drop everything on your goddamn whim."
Buliman moved forward, "It’s not a whim, you dumb fucker, someone knows!"
Jonsan spoke up, "Knows what?"
Chrisatman struck him, "That we took money to kill those bums, you stupid shit. What else could it be? Am I right?"
Buliman barely nodded.
Jonsan grimaced, "Who was it?"
Buliman shrugged, "I don’t know. Some asshole who showed up at my office today. Said his name was Jared Green. Beat the shit out of me too."
Chrisatman chuckled, "So what the hell are we gonna do?"
Jonsan raised his hand for silence, "Let’s go our separate ways for a while, each come up with their own plan. Then we can meet back here tonight and decide on one."
"My God," Buliman said, "Weasel boy had a thought. All right, then. Until tonight."
The three men went on there own ways. But as he stepped from the garage to the brightly-lit street, Buliman already had his plan.
It would all end tonight.
* * * *
"There is no goddamn way," Miss Parker’s voice was tinged with fury, "you’re telling me they got everyone with any computer knowledge out of the building without getting on any security cameras."
The technician flinched, then said, "Yes, sir. As far as the records say, they never left the building."
For a moment, Miss Parker’s eyes widened. Then she said, "Clever, real fucking clever."
"What’s clever?" the technician asked.
Miss Parker grinned, "There’s no record of them leaving because they’re still here."
"On SL-27"
* * * *
Jared sat at on the roof at dusk watching the parking garage across the street. He knew the three men would be there soon. A Dr. Pepper was held loosely in his left hand, he sipped from it every few minutes.
It was just after sundown when the first man appeared. It was Jonsan, though his partners in crime soon joined him. As he watched, Jared could tell the men were in a heated argument.
Suddenly, Buliman whipped out a gun. With lethal efficiency, he took Jonsan down, his shot sending the small man over the edge. He splattered like a melon whacked with a stick as he hit the ground.
Then, Buliman shot Chrisatman in the head. Even from the distance of about 40 feet, Jared could see the gout of blood that erupted from the black man’s head. Then Buliman moved quickly, heading for the stairs.
Jared got up, and made his way to the street, where he began to follow one Harvey Buliman, murderer and crooked cop.
* * * *
Broots pounded furiously at the keys but suddenly a sound exploded in the room. It was the ringing of a cell phone. Daniel pulled one from his pocket.
"Hello," Daniel said, "Yes, C.J., I understand. Everything will be ready."
He put away the phone, then tapped Broots on the shoulder. He said, "My employer says he must ask you to hurry."
"Hold on," Broots replied, "I’m almost there."
With a dramatic flair, Broots entered the final keystroke. The screen filled with information. As Broots read it, a single phrase escaped his lips.
"Fuck me.."
Then the information was quickly printed out, Daniel took the sheet out of the room and hid it somewhere. He returned, and his hand fell on his gun.
"Why are you doing that?" Broots asked nervously.
Daniel’s face was grim as he said, "You’ll see."
Without warning, the door blew inwards. Even as the smoke cleared, men poured into the room.
In that moment, Broots knew he was in hell.
* * * *
Buliman got to his house to find the door standing wide open. Drawing his gun, he moved inside. Buliman lived alone and in the house, nothing moved. But then a voice echoed out of the darkness.
"So you killed them all, huh? Just another day in the big city."
Buliman smiled, "Green, is that you?"
"You know it is. So tell me, why’d you do it? Not your partners, but the bums. Why kill homeless people?"
Buliman began searching his house, trying to follow the voice. "Why," he said, "because someone paid me a shitload of money to do it."
A voice, directly behind him said, "Greed is the root of all evil."
Buliman turned just in time to see Jared swing.
Then the fist hit his face, and he blacked out.
* * * *
Miss Parker nearly blasted into the room, her stiletto heel catching Daniel in the throat. A stream of blood ran down hi shoulder, but Daniel managed to get a grip around Miss Parker’s waist. He lifted off the ground like a rag doll.
Then he began to squeeze.
Broots acted on instinct, throwing himself at the mountain of a man. He had just enough strength behind him to cause Daniel to lose his grip.
Miss Parker hit the floor rolled, and brought her gun up. Five shots rang out in the enclosed space, echoing like cannon blast. Each tore a gory hole through Daniel. He slumped to the floor, dead.
Broots looked at Miss Parker, a silly grin crossing his face.
She simply scowled back.
* * * *
Buliman awoke to feel wind whipping across his face. Even before he opened his eyes, he tried to remember where he was. Then it all came flooding back to him.
The murders. The cover-ups. And then that damn Jared.
Suddenly furious, he opened his eyes, and abruptly screamed.
He was hung, upside down, from the steeple of a church. At least a hundred feet down, the ground loomed. He looked up, and gasped at the thin rope that held him.
Down below, Jared looked up at his work and smiled. It would take the police hours to get him down. By then, he’d be so scared he’d confess.
Whistling a jaunty tune, Jared skipped away into the afternoon sun.
* * * *
Broots sighed as he said, "No, Miss Parker, I don’t know who he was talking to. Someone called C.J. But he wanted some information."
Miss Parker looked up, "What information?"
Broots hesitated, then said, "A secret file on Jared’s parents. I broke in and called it up."
"And did he get this info?"
"No," Broots said simply. Miss Parker waved him away, then said, "What was in that file, Broots?"
Broots stopped, and without turning said, "I’m the only one who knows that, and it’s going to the grave with me."
Then, without another word, he was gone.
* * * *
Sitting in an air vent deep inside the Centre, the man known as Angelo held the printout from Broots’ computer in his hand. He read it slowly, absorbing every iota of information.
Then, he began to smile.
The End
Rating: R (male/male sexual situations, violence, language)
Parts: 1
Feedback:
Author: CloudStrifeX
Copyright: 1998
Part One
of One
Jared pressed his face against the frosted glass, watching the people eating their mid-day meals in peace. He slowly moved away from the front of the café, turning as he did to look at the grungy streets of St. Louis as he did so. Overheard, the Metrolink roared by. It never failed to impress him, with it’s thunder of passage and the swirling winds that followed it. A lot of things impressed Jared nowadays.
Well, he thought, I guess that comes with be locked up in a goddamn lab almost all your life. You miss out on the world.
A smile crossed Jared’s lips as he moved along the garbage-strewn road. He was a big, muscular man, with dark hair and mysterious eyes. Ruggedly handsome, he still carried about him an air of melancholy.
Jared turned left down the alley next to the city’s courthouse. It was dimly lit here, and he could just make out a few homeless people sleeping in the piles of waste that were stacked high to the building’s side. Squashing his feelings of pity inside him, he moved quickly, emerging from the alley’s other end.
The city’s problems would have to wait.
He was on a mission.
One he could not fail.
The Centre sat menacingly on the hillside, staring down at the city of Blue Cove as if daring it to lodge a complaint. Inside the massive structure, a bustle of activity rippled back and forth along the hallway.
But one woman was relaxed, as if the troubles outside didn’t touch her.
Beautiful, with dark hair and crystal blue eyes that held no emotion, she sat her desk, a lit cigarette smoldering between her lips. Her slim, lovely legs were propped up, the heels of the stilettos braced against a computer.
An older man, gray-haired but with an air of power, entered the room. His face is hard and grim; his shoulders are slumped as if some great weight rests upon them.
The woman smiled. A cold and cruel grin. "Sydney," she said, "Pardon my French, but what the fuck do you want?"
"Miss Parker," the man replied, "We have a serious problem here. Or haven’t you noticed the commotion right outside your office."
She grins again, "I did notice, actually. I was just trying to ignore it."
After Sydney remains quiet for a moment, Miss Parker asked, "Well, are you going to tell me what’s fucking going on, or are we going to sit her all goddamn day and jack off."
"It’s Broots.." Sydney said, stumbling, "well.. actually it’s the whole computer staff. They… well they…"
"Spit it out, goddamn it."
"The Computer Staff. They’re just… gone."
Jared halted his march in front of the police station, an aging and decaying structure. He cast his eyes upwards, glaring at the dirty windows of the second floor. With a deep inhalation of breath, he stepped inside.
A fat, balding man sat at the table, a doughnut almost crushed in his left hand. He took a look at Jared as he entered, surveying the man as if trying to look into his soul. Jared pasted a smile on his face and moved over to him.
"Hello," he said affably, "I need to see Captain Buliman."
"Ya’s got an appointment," the man behind the table asked.
"No," Jared replied, "Actually, I don’t. Is that a problem?"
The fat cop smiled, "Not really. Most peoples comin’ in here ain’t got one."
The cop led him down a series of long, winding hallways, each more dirty and dimly lit than the last. Finally, they came to a scarred, cracking office door. The nametag, which read Buliman, hung haphazardly at it’s center.
Jared knocked on the door, and a gruff voice said, "Come in!" He opened the door, and the presence of Captain Harvey Buliman washed over him.
Buliman was big, not fat, but like a mass of pure muscle. He had greasy brown hair, a scruffy goatee, and eyes that were so light blue they were almost white. He stared at his visitor with distaste.
"Who the fuck are you?" he said, his voice deep and gravelly.
"My name’s Jared Green, and I’m here… well, I’m here to…"
Jared flew across the room, moving with an unnatural speed. Gripping Buliman’s arm, which was reaching for a gun hidden beneath the desk, he forced the large man to the ground. He held him there, whispering into his ear.
"I’m sorry to do things like this, but I don’t have time to be subtle," Jared’s voice rippled with restrained anger. "Now listen, and listen good, you and all you crooked buddies are going down. You can take that to the bank."
Jared brought his hand down on the back of Buliman’s neck, knocking the man out.
Then, with a whirl of air, Jared was gone, leaving behind no solid evidence of his visit.
"How can an entire goddamn department disappear?" Miss Parker screamed over the dull roar of the office around here. Everyone was still in a flurry of motion, desperately seeking the answer to that very question.
"We’re not sure," Sydney replied, "One minute they were here, then poof. Nothing."
"Well, we better find them pretty fucking fast, or we’re all in some very deep shit."
And for the first time, in all the time he had known, Sydney actually thought Miss Parker sounded worried.
How do I get myself into shit like this, Broots thought as he shuffled into the darkened room. A large, frightening man stood at the room’s apex, watching at the rest of the computer staff took their seats. Then, he motioned to Broots.
Broots was a small, balding man, not very handsome but always eager to please. He had a thin frame, and he had the sickening realization as he walked over that this man could snap him like a twig if he wanted.
No smile crossed the man’s lips as Broots reached him. He looked at the small computer nerd and said, "You are the one called Broots, are you not?"
Then small man nodded.
"I am called Daniel. I have been told by my employer to keep a close eye on you."
Broots stood, remaining silent.
Daniel motioned to a seat to the left of where he stood. "You will sit here."
Broots took his place, and Daniel handed him a sheet of paper. It read Assignment, in jagged crooked letters. With a sigh, Broots unfolded it.
As he went to work, the room fell silent, save for the sound of hundreds of fingers typing.
Buliman shivered, despite the warmness of the day, as he stood on the top floor of the abandoned parking garage. He glanced about nervously.
Suddenly, a voice behind him said, "I never thought I’d see your ugly ass again."
Buliman turned suddenly, his hand falling instinctively on his gun. But when he saw who it was, he cursed under his breath.
A pair of men stood at the top of the steps. One was a thin, weak looking man with hair almost as dirty as Buliman’s. The other, a burly black man with a scar running down his cheek, was the one who had spoken.
"Holy shit, Chrisatman, I could have killed you, you dumb motherfucker," Buliman said, his voice venomous.
The black man smiled, "You always were a lousy fucking shot."
Buliman glared, "What took you all so damn long."
Chrisatman stopped smiling, "Hey, me and Jonsan here got lives, you know. We can’t be expected to drop everything on your goddamn whim."
Buliman moved forward, "It’s not a whim, you dumb fucker, someone knows!"
Jonsan spoke up, "Knows what?"
Chrisatman struck him, "That we took money to kill those bums, you stupid shit. What else could it be? Am I right?"
Buliman barely nodded.
Jonsan grimaced, "Who was it?"
Buliman shrugged, "I don’t know. Some asshole who showed up at my office today. Said his name was Jared Green. Beat the shit out of me too."
Chrisatman chuckled, "So what the hell are we gonna do?"
Jonsan raised his hand for silence, "Let’s go our separate ways for a while, each come up with their own plan. Then we can meet back here tonight and decide on one."
"My God," Buliman said, "Weasel boy had a thought. All right, then. Until tonight."
The three men went on there own ways. But as he stepped from the garage to the brightly-lit street, Buliman already had his plan.
It would all end tonight.
"There is no goddamn way," Miss Parker’s voice was tinged with fury, "you’re telling me they got everyone with any computer knowledge out of the building without getting on any security cameras."
The technician flinched, then said, "Yes, sir. As far as the records say, they never left the building."
For a moment, Miss Parker’s eyes widened. Then she said, "Clever, real fucking clever."
"What’s clever?" the technician asked.
Miss Parker grinned, "There’s no record of them leaving because they’re still here."
"On SL-27"
Jared sat at on the roof at dusk watching the parking garage across the street. He knew the three men would be there soon. A Dr. Pepper was held loosely in his left hand, he sipped from it every few minutes.
It was just after sundown when the first man appeared. It was Jonsan, though his partners in crime soon joined him. As he watched, Jared could tell the men were in a heated argument.
Suddenly, Buliman whipped out a gun. With lethal efficiency, he took Jonsan down, his shot sending the small man over the edge. He splattered like a melon whacked with a stick as he hit the ground.
Then, Buliman shot Chrisatman in the head. Even from the distance of about 40 feet, Jared could see the gout of blood that erupted from the black man’s head. Then Buliman moved quickly, heading for the stairs.
Jared got up, and made his way to the street, where he began to follow one Harvey Buliman, murderer and crooked cop.
Broots pounded furiously at the keys but suddenly a sound exploded in the room. It was the ringing of a cell phone. Daniel pulled one from his pocket.
"Hello," Daniel said, "Yes, C.J., I understand. Everything will be ready."
He put away the phone, then tapped Broots on the shoulder. He said, "My employer says he must ask you to hurry."
"Hold on," Broots replied, "I’m almost there."
With a dramatic flair, Broots entered the final keystroke. The screen filled with information. As Broots read it, a single phrase escaped his lips.
"Fuck me.."
Then the information was quickly printed out, Daniel took the sheet out of the room and hid it somewhere. He returned, and his hand fell on his gun.
"Why are you doing that?" Broots asked nervously.
Daniel’s face was grim as he said, "You’ll see."
Without warning, the door blew inwards. Even as the smoke cleared, men poured into the room.
In that moment, Broots knew he was in hell.
Buliman got to his house to find the door standing wide open. Drawing his gun, he moved inside. Buliman lived alone and in the house, nothing moved. But then a voice echoed out of the darkness.
"So you killed them all, huh? Just another day in the big city."
Buliman smiled, "Green, is that you?"
"You know it is. So tell me, why’d you do it? Not your partners, but the bums. Why kill homeless people?"
Buliman began searching his house, trying to follow the voice. "Why," he said, "because someone paid me a shitload of money to do it."
A voice, directly behind him said, "Greed is the root of all evil."
Buliman turned just in time to see Jared swing.
Then the fist hit his face, and he blacked out.
Miss Parker nearly blasted into the room, her stiletto heel catching Daniel in the throat. A stream of blood ran down hi shoulder, but Daniel managed to get a grip around Miss Parker’s waist. He lifted off the ground like a rag doll.
Then he began to squeeze.
Broots acted on instinct, throwing himself at the mountain of a man. He had just enough strength behind him to cause Daniel to lose his grip.
Miss Parker hit the floor rolled, and brought her gun up. Five shots rang out in the enclosed space, echoing like cannon blast. Each tore a gory hole through Daniel. He slumped to the floor, dead.
Broots looked at Miss Parker, a silly grin crossing his face.
She simply scowled back.
Buliman awoke to feel wind whipping across his face. Even before he opened his eyes, he tried to remember where he was. Then it all came flooding back to him.
The murders. The cover-ups. And then that damn Jared.
Suddenly furious, he opened his eyes, and abruptly screamed.
He was hung, upside down, from the steeple of a church. At least a hundred feet down, the ground loomed. He looked up, and gasped at the thin rope that held him.
Down below, Jared looked up at his work and smiled. It would take the police hours to get him down. By then, he’d be so scared he’d confess.
Whistling a jaunty tune, Jared skipped away into the afternoon sun.
Broots sighed as he said, "No, Miss Parker, I don’t know who he was talking to. Someone called C.J. But he wanted some information."
Miss Parker looked up, "What information?"
Broots hesitated, then said, "A secret file on Jared’s parents. I broke in and called it up."
"And did he get this info?"
"No," Broots said simply. Miss Parker waved him away, then said, "What was in that file, Broots?"
Broots stopped, and without turning said, "I’m the only one who knows that, and it’s going to the grave with me."
Then, without another word, he was gone.
Sitting in an air vent deep inside the Centre, the man known as Angelo held the printout from Broots’ computer in his hand. He read it slowly, absorbing every iota of information.
Then, he began to smile.
