Perfect Dark pt. 12: Raising Caine

[The_NewCatwoman]

**Raise Cain: (informal) to cause a noisy disturbance--Encarta**

"Is your name really Caine?" she asked curiously, hanging over the side of the bed on her stomach.

"Nope." Caine replied lazily, running his hand over his stomach to tuck in his shirt.

"Then what is it?" she asked, her voice sounding annoyingly juvenille. He knew he shouldn't have chosen somebody so young.

"Bob" he said flashing a grin to himself in the mirror as he smoothed back his hair.

"Idiot." Gloria grumbled to herself angrily as she turned over onto her back.

Caine's eyes flashed as he ran over to the bed and jumped on top of her. "What did you say?" he asked calmly, gripping her soft neck with his strong hands, applying just the right amount of pressure he needed.

Gloria gagged, "I'm sorry Baby, I didn't mean it."

His grip loosened instantly, but he stayed in position. A coy smile grew onto her face. "Don't play with me Glor-- " he started.

"What?" she asked, sitting up onto her elbows.

"Do you like your name?" he asked, his eyes boring into her's.

"My Ma named me after my grandmother, so yeah, I guess..."

"'I guess?' What kind of answer is 'I guess' he said, mimicking her light voice.

[The_NewCatwoman]

Sorry, I got sidetracked**

Gloria stayed silent, wondering what he was getting at.

"You can change your name you know." Caine said sitting back on his haunches.

"How?" Gloria asked, adolecent innocence tainting her voice.

Caine smiled, "How about Lolita? Yeah that about fits you right." he said looking her up and down.

"Lolita?" she asked annoyedly, "Sure, now what about you?"

Caine rolled his eyes and climbed off of her, deciding the closet door was more interesting than trying to get this kid to get things straight.

He drowned out her calls as he walked away, thinking instead of something Dimanche would say--

Tests the razor on his leg
Waiting until the shreik subsides.
The epileptic on the bed
Curves backward, clutching at her sides.

She smiled his demon smile, and decided to go out to eat.

[The_NewCatwoman]

Sorry I didn't post a disclaimer, the quote is by T.S. Elliot

[The_NewCatwoman]

A.J. leaned back against the low wall separating the rooftop from the free space, soaking up this chance to relax. He wondered silently where Mila was. She hadn't taken the news to well when he'd told her that morning. He'd had to take her home and everything. But it was obvious she had some kind of vampire inside of her, maybe it was even Dimanche. He laughed quietly, remembering her father coming home that morning. Probably a quick stop home on the way from his mistress's house to change and then head to the office. Mr. Raleigh had swore on his mother's grave that if he ever caught A.J. around his daughter again, he'd kill him.

A.J. sighed, the night had be sorrowfully disappointing. The only opportunities he'd had for some real action was when those high schooler's tried to break into the school for a little grade changing. "Honor Roller's", had scholarships riding and everything. A.J. wasn't a total prick, he almost felt like letting them do it. They were all under heavy pressure at home, he kind of regretted turning them in. But law was law.

Rising to his feet, he serveyed the city once more, deciding that nothing else was going on, and to take one last lap around to be sure.

**

Caine strolled down the street, gliding past people as he walked marveling at their abundance at such an unholy hour.

He turned suddenly, deciding the park was his best bet if he wanted to find a decent party girl with no kids, and no curfew.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of Malboro 100s, and retreived his trusty Zippo with his other hand. Sheilding the cigarette from the brisk wind his walking speed kept up, he simultaneously scanned the area for potential sires or victims.

He wondered to himself about what kept his intrest in women so high. He was quite loyal in his heart, but in his body, he desired women so voraciaously that he had possibly gone through several thousand in his lifetime. His explorative nature didn't help much either. Every block, every city, every country had something to offer. His particular favorite had been the Brazilian women. They willingly participated in Trois à la fois and the like. He smiled at the memory. Then something hit his mind, and in his heart he knew it was sick, demented, and phsycotic. But his senses had been awakened. He turned around and went the opposite direction, towards Fairway Avenue. A homely suburb where families went to escape the dangers of core-Gotham City. And hopefully raise perfect 50s-type families in the hope that they wouldn't be exposed to "The Hood" as the sheltered, ignorant bastards called it.

His smile widened considerably, he was just the culture shock that place needed. Feeling himself all the more glad that he's left Lolita at the hotel.

[The_NewCatwoman]

Caine stood on the Kentucky Blue lawn outside a random house on Birch Lane, searching for clues as to who lived inside. Tossing his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out. He walked around to the driveway and looked around in the backyard. A small pink bicycle sat on the side of the garage, small sparkly streamers ran from each side of the handlebars. They had a daughter, she probably couldn't be more than five or six. He started to question himself, but his curiosity got the better of him.

Returning to the front of the house, he picked out her window by the barbie patterns on the iron curtain that sheltered her from the outside. Small drops of rain began to trickle down as he started climbing up the wall-side to her bedroom. Setting himself down on the shingled ledge, he began to break into her room.

Climbing through the window, he tip-toed to her bed. Smiling gently as he admired her smooth, strawberry blond hair. He reached down and ran his hand down her cheek, waiting with facination as she opened her eyes. Then quickly covered her mouth as she began to scream.

[The_NewCatwoman]

When She Was


She's got bad girl written all over her,
Signed in black ink across her arm.

Oh Jesus, B, she says,
Breaking the image with conscience,
And an expression fraught with shame.

The sleek muscles twitch,
Adrenaline junkie fighting the next fix.

So tell us, B,
How do you play good girl
When inside you're howling?


July 2, 2000
© Lela Kaunitz


**December 24, 12:57a.m.**

"Faster Pussycat, kill, Kill, KILL!" Donald whispered gleefully, holding Monica down on-top of him. A sadistic smile played itself across his face.

Her gaze returned from the other side of the room as her eyes flashed with hate. She bit her lip and slammed her fist down into his throat.

He gagged, bitting his tongue in the process. Drawing back his arm, he swung a powerful punch into her jaw, sending her to the floor. Quickly her jerked his pants up, but didn't bother to zip them up, or anything. "You *****!" he screamed, charging her.

Monica quickly scrambled up from the floor, and ran to the other side of the room. She wanted to make sure Donald didn't notice one of the "high-lifer's" getting up and leaving.

--#--

Marco ran down the slick sidewalks, rushing to find his older brother by seven years.

Skidding on a ice patch, he dove forward to avoid falling. Arms flailing he grabbed a light-pole to steady himself. Scanning the area frantically, he spotting Doc in a diner, treating himself to a couple of beers, and Selina to an ice cream float.

Sliding to the edge of the street, he jumped over the curb and ran to the opposing side. Barely avoiding the onslaught of cars.

Bursting into the Diner, he ran to the booth they shared. "Doc!" he whispered, "That Donald cat isn't holdin' up his end of the bargain."

"In what way?" Doc asked, Marco could imagine his voice burning into his throat. Doc always got emotional when he was pissed off.

"Let's just say, Ma's gonna wake up with a little more than a scratch or two, Donald's treatin' this like a g**damn boxing match!"

Doc rose from his seat, checking his holster's for his trademark weapons of choice.

His 10 in. long 3 in. wide blade, and his "Bad Betty".

"Need any extra bullets?" Marco whispered.

"Nah." Doc said, pulling his coat back up. "This shouldn't take long at all."

[The_NewCatwoman]

They usually come at night, when the S.S. Dreamboat sails into tempestuous waters. You're confronted with your worst nightmares, and your most-coveted fantasies. Provided you have a trustworthy captain to steer you clear, you're fine. But what happens if by chance, the a**hole is drunk at the wheel?

But Life isn't about chance, just inevitables.

Usually everynight for a while at a time, I have nightmares. Not your basic boogeyman under the bed, Freddy Krueger in the closet crap. I mean true oddities, ransom notes written in caramel sauce on my pajamas, having my vertebrae separated piece by piece while the only though that comes to mind is "Is there blood coming out of my mouth?"

And of course there is, but it's not real blood, it's freakin' blood pudding. And I'm satisfied and die.

Then other times, it's more factual, with my mother and father, and all my family, before they started hurting each other, and before they all died. Those are the worst.

They start of fine, picnic in the park, breakfast at the table together type's of things, and everybody's happy. Then suddenly someone raves into this insane killing machine, slicing and dicing everyone but me. They did everyone else a favor, all they wanted for me is suffering, confusion, and pain.

As if all this isn't enough, the whole distorted veiw isn't even in color it's in black and white. Like some kind of noir film from the twenties.

The good thing is, these "Nightmare's on Elm Street" only last a few night's at a time.

But they come one after the other.

It's sick.

[The_NewCatwoman]

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