Perfect Dark: pt 14 Blood, Sweat, and Tears pt b

[The_NewCatwoman]

I hear voices around me, they're quiet whispers. I can hear the fear radiating in their voices. But their not scared of me, their scared of what might happen to me.

The preist, Father McCallaughan I believe, is praying over me, I let the words wash over my body, obsolving the furocious pain:

"Our father,
who art in heaven,
hallow'd be thy name.
Thy Kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
Forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil,
Amen."

For a moment, I long my death, in this quiet scene of peace and tranquility, it would be all too easy.

But then I pray for forgiveness, it's a sin to want to die, unless to save another life. The ultimate sacrifice, originated in our Lord Christ.

The pain is numbing, I feel them wrapping gauze around my torn flesh, stemming the blood. A woman's hands hold my head as the sprinkle holy water on me. I feel them making the sign of the cross. But I'm too weak to thank them for their hospitality.

You're wondering now, why I let him shoot me, draw blood from my body like a well, using a bullet like a stone.

How else to you suppose I test his strength, his resistance, his resolve. I've never met a vampire I couldn't slay, until tonight. All the better I suppose. He's been around obviously, for centuries. But what he has in blatant wisdom, he befalls himself in blatant foolishness.

[The_NewCatwoman]

"My God!"

I hear the words tumble out of my mouth senselessly, carelessly. Everyone in the church has turned their heads in calculated stares. I've violated the calming quiet, invaded it with my tongue.

The preist informed me minutes ago that they were performing 2nd watch when they found my son on the steps of the church, bleeding to death.

He lays there now infront of me, half-concious, looking oddly peaceful. His hands lay at his sides as always. I turn to the preist, "Father,.. What happened, who did this?"

"He didn't say, the boy has been sleeping half the night, only waking up to vomit." he says in a low, sullen voice, echoing the hardships of heading a Catholic Church in Gotham. He points to a metal bucket resting near my son's place on the pew. I feel my face contorting at the sight of A.J.'s bloodied stomach acid.

"We didn't know what else to do, besides inform the Commishner, who then put a line out to you." the preist says, "God help us, the boy's in horrible shape, are you his father?"

The question hits me quickly, I'd never actually admitted to being Angel's father to the public, Jim included, but I refuse to lie in the church, I've got enough on my plate as it is. I nod my head in reply, and some rays of hope light up in the preist eyes.

"Oh good, that's very good, we were worried he was an orphan."

The reply is much worse than the question, I feel my stomach erupt in knots, I've always held some... disdain... for the word. It makes me feel like I've been abandoned, like... I can't discribe it.

Turning to my son, I carefully scoop him up in my arms and make for the door.

"So you're taking him then?"

I pause and nod. "Yes, he'll be safe at home."

"If you need us, don't fail to call on St. Peter, I'm Father McCallaughan, and this is Sister Rose, she usually works at the missionary on Haley Rd."

I nod, and exit the church. It has begun rain. Angel has managed to fall back asleep.

"Sleep tight my son." I hear myself say.

[The_NewCatwoman]

**This is some seriously disturbing stuff, so if you'd just like to skip it, it's okay.**

Batman stood outside of the home of Nathan Dayland, watching as the man he'd fired just a few days before broke down on his front lawn.

His precious daughter Bianca had been kidnapped less than seven hours ago.

It was now eight in the morning, and the police had been at the house for little over three hours.

Charlotte, Nathan's estranged wife, stood wrapped in a blanket, holding cold coffee, infront of the garage. Her face was cold and expressionless, but her eyes smoldered with unshed tears. She'd find release in private later on, he guessed.

Cameran Donaldson, Summer Gleason's arch rival, interveiwed Nathan, portraying his sadness with no less empathy than Jerry Springer.

"Please, whoever you are, I'll give you anything you want, just please bring my Angel back home." Nathan sobbed into the camera.

**

Caine watched anxiously as she opened her eyes, made recognition of her surroundings, and began to cry profusely.

"Awwww, you poor Angel." he said running his thumb down her cheek, stopping at the tuck of her neck. Her pulse circulated wildly, throbbing into his digit. Smiling, he watched as she shifted uncomfortably, her wrists rubbing painfully against her rope bindings. She began to cry even harder, her face blushing into a furious red that rivaled heat-exhaustion. "What's the matter?" he asked kindly.

"I want my Daddy." she whispered, sobbing again.

"Well,..." Caine said with a smile. "I've got some good news for you princess, you'll be going home."

A faint smile played on her lips. "Really?"

"Would I lie to you?" Caine asked, his back to her, as he pushed aside his wax candles, and other sharp toys he'd aquired over the years, and pulled a long knife out of his dresser drawer.

**

I hear a voice in my head, it's faded down to a whisper over time, but it's still there.

Still insistant as ever, but its only a whisper.

I've managed to quiet it down over time, it used to be a mind-numbing experience. A bloodthirsty scream for redemption. But I gave up on redemption a long time ago.

I turn to the little girl tied to my bedpost; and it's voice rises. It knows what I'm about to do, what new sins I'm about to commit, and swirl together in a hell-bound brew.

As she spots the knife, she begans to scream, such a lovely sound. I tell her I'm sorry, and that its not her fault, that it's mine for being such a bad man.

Her screams turn frantic and wet as I set down the knife and undress her. She's so pale and beautiful.

She's shaking hard now, seized with fear. I feel it escaping with her innocence hand in hand, as I push myself inside of her. She's so small, it's like putting rope through the eye of a needle.

Her screams have turned bloody, cold, wet, dark, whatever you could use to discribe her pain.

I find peace in what I'm doing by remembering my suffering. How much I'm going to hurt when I die. I deserve the worst.

I kiss her softly on the cheek, then I marvel at all the blood. It tastes so good, I guess Marvo* was right, children's blood IS sweeter than honey.

Taking the knife in my hand, I tell her I'm sorry again, and split her open from her chin all the way down to where she ends and I began. Her screams die out instantly, as I listen to her quickly suffocate. I do my thing, and pull out.

I feel myself grimace as my eyes meet her's. They stare cold and empty at the ceiling.

"Welcome Home my dear."

(*Marvo is one of the men that died for Caine two-hundred and seven years before.)

[Panther]

THAT was one of the SICKEST and most HORRIFIC things I have ever read!!!

However, you are not the type to indulge in violence just for violence's sake and I trust this is going somewhere. I, on some level, admire you for pulling out all the stops and not holding any punches. Although, I'd be interested in hearing why you felt /so much/ graphic sex and violence was nessacary. I enjoyed the church sceane. It was very touching in a gothic way.

must go,

[The_NewCatwoman]

actually, it gets alot worse before it gets any better

i like writing with a sort of batman/vertigo trip, i've been reading some pretty freaky batman comics lately. that kinda explains the change-up

and i thought i was being brutal in breakdown!

[The_NewCatwoman]

**December 31, 1966**

The flashes ran through his brain unabated, shocking him in their vulgarity.

What was this?

He pictured her poor body, broken and bloody. Blood dripping from where it shouldn't be. That damn car!

Gotta stop the blood.

"Calm down, you won't be able to do anything anyway, so just calm down." Will turned around, to find his old friend and mentor Thomas Wayne. "Relax Buddy." Tom said, pulling a bubble pipe out of his invisible pocket, and lighting it with a wet match. Soapy, heavy bubbles decended into the air.

"Dammit Tom, you gotta help me, it's Anja..." he said turning back around. Where the hell was her arm?! It must've been torn off in the impact, or maybe they needed the jaws of life to get her outta the car.

He needed the jaws of life.

"Get me an arm stat!" he said quickly, as began to try to stop the bleeding.

The nurse nodded, and ran to find a spare.

Damn that stupid Operation Game, the one he played jokingly with Thomas all the time. The commercial song echoed in his head.

Now what?! He looked up to find his college professors taking notes in the audience.

He was failing his final exam.

Suddenly, Anja flat-lined. Harsh darkness enveloped the room, "Oh my God, Tom where'd you go. I need you to help me do this!", but Tom was gone.

"Don't leave me, please don't go!" he shouted out, groping in the darkness for a familiar face, a hand to cling to.

A scream pierced the air. Shrill and terrified, it plunged through his eardrums.

He opened his eyes, Selina was raised tearfully from the floor infront of him. His hand was squeezing hers with the intensity of a cobra.

She was crying.

Oh God, she was crying.

He dropped her arm and scooped her into his arms. She continued to cry into his shoulder, her body heat rising with each shudder.

"I'm soooo sorry Angel. Shhhh, shh, shh, Baby. You'll make yourself sick if you keep crying like that. You know Daddy never meant to hurt you." he said gently as he stood and rocked her side to side. "Shhhh, Baby girl, little baby girl."

Doc walked over to the doorway, being careful not to step on "Mr. Poco", the stuffed bunny she'd just been playing with.

"Daddy, what happened to you?" she asked with a tiny voice.

"Daddy just had a nightmare, pequeña muchacha del bebé, but he's okay now, I'm sorry I scared you, I don't ever want to scare you." he said as he carried her down the hallway. "Do you want something to eat, I'll make crepes, yeah you love crepes, with strawberry syrup."

Selina nodded her head, then burried her face back into Doc's shoulder, "I'm glad you scared the "Monster" away Daddy, he was gonna hurt me."

"Me too, Angel." Doc said, wondering who the Monster she was talking about was.

Sitting Selina down infront of the t.v. in the den, he turned the dial, and watched as the new show called "Sesame Street"* slowly appeared on the screen.

Selina settled onto her stomach and watch the screen intently. One of Monica's cats, Monterey maybe, settled onto her back. Doc looked her over to make sure she was okay, noticing Monica had dressed their little wonder well in one of those goofy little doll-dresses, complete with knee socks. Shrugging, he turned to the kitchen, smiling as Selina's laugh broke the silence between them.

*I'm not sure if sesame street started after or before this part takes place.*

--#--
**10:13p.m. that night**

Monica stood huddled against the cold, watching and waiting outside the hotel.

Her eyes darted back to the Jaguar XJ6 that sat practically invisible against the growing darkness.

What was she doing out on New Year's Eve anyway? She should be at home recouperating, or at least at a small party. She imagined Will and herself kissing gently as the clock struck midnight.

She heard a glass bottle being kicked behind her. Turning quickly, she found herself face to face with Donald Dilly, the a**hole who'd found himself in an extreme kind of debt with Will, or "Doc" as Donald knew to call him.

Donald froze, mouth trembling, bits and pieces of words spilling incoherently from his red-with-the-cold lips, framed by a pale face.

"Hi Donnie." she said with a smile she usually saved for the camera.

Donald quickly did an about-face, and tried to walk away.

Monica jumped infront of him, and quickly ran her hand seductively up and down the breast of his jacket. "I've missed you Donnie, I couldn't stop thinking about the other night, I've never had it like that before. It made me all,.. warm inside, kinda like somebody running hot wax down my back."

Donald stared at her, eyes wide with his mouth hanging open.

"Don'tcha wanna run wax down my back Donnie?" Monica asked as she looked him deeply in the eyes, before kissing him. She made sure to run her tongue over each and every tooth, feeling the metal sourness as she tasted his cavity fillings.

Donald smacked his mouth, feeling the spit run dry, "What about Doc?" he asked, looking around the street nervously.

"F**k Doc, I want you." she said taking his hand and leading him to the car. "Come on, just you and me now. We'll run away together." She took him to the passenger side and opened the door.

He kissed her on the cheek, feeling luck run through his being. Then he let her push him into the car, and close the door.

Smiling he settled into his seat, and watched as she walked around to the other side. But instead of getting into the car too. She made the sign of the cross, and quickly ran across to the other street, and then began down the block.

"What the hell?" Donald asked as he reached for the door handle.

"Don't leave yet Donnie, you just got here. Why don't you stay awhile." came a voice so soft from the backseat, it sounded like a hiss. Hands came from the seat behind him, pinning him.

The hiss turned into a short laugh, as a man called Doc climbed into the front seat next to Donald. Donald began to wrech, as the hands pulled him tighter.

"You didn't really think Monica was going to drop me for you did you?" Doc said smiling widely.

Donald couldn't talk, he was scared enough to piss himself right that moment.

"That's okay, you don't have to talk, all you gotta do is listen. Now, you knew I was coming back didn't you, you know El Doctor doesn't forget a lie. You lied to me, did you know that? Do you know what the penalty is for lying? You told me everything was gonna be okay, you didn't say you'd beat the snot outta my girl. So I figured, 'an eye for an eye', you know." Doc said reaching for the cigarette lighter.

Donald squirmed in his seat, trying to get as far from Doc and the lighter as possible.

"Marco, hold him tight, we don't need any theatre here okay." Doc said as he held one of Donald's eyes open. "Now this, my friend, is gonna hurt."

--#--

Monica leaned against the glass window of a telephone booth, trying to stay warm.

Down the street, she knew Doc was making long and excruciating work of Donald. "Serves the bastard right." she said lighting a cigarette, then immeadiately retracted the statement. Simple killing wasn't right, for any reason. Man, she had alot to confess in church this saturday. Taking a long drag, she decided to think instead to the movie that was scheduled to begin shooting in a few weeks. It was called The Dirty Dozen. (With no disrespect to Trini Lopez)

Ahhhh, as long as the public thought life for famed actress Monica Girbaud, and her beau Dr. William Kyle was good, that's what it would be.

[Panther]

Good dream sequence! That was some excellent writing. It's interesting to see all these bits and pieces being strewn about that will someday form into Catwoman. I don't know if Seasome St. had statred then, but it was neat to see it mentioned here as that 'new show'. Its also great to see once agin your demonstartion of your great touch at characterization.

Well, I must be off. I don't know how much computer time I'll have over the next few weeks so I'll take the chance now to wish everyone a happy holiday and new year!


Later,

[The_NewCatwoman]

Caine took a deep breath, inhaling the gentle beauty of the strawberry red hair smothering his face. Opening his eyes, he stared at the still body of a dead child, feeling an immeadiate urge to hurl, but conflicting urges to continue to hold her in his arms.

Raising from the bed, he turned to the side and lit another cigarette. Wondering absent-mindedly where Lolita was. She hadn't been there when he got back the night before.

He'd spent the day searching for formaldahyde to slow her decomposition. He had business to attend to. He looked out the window, night was slowly decending across the flaming dusk of Gotham's night. Forcing a grim smile, he pulled on a fresh shirt and pair of pants. Slipping into his un-tied shoes, he walked to the window. A small part of him hoping that she'd wake up. He wasn't sure why.

[James Harvey]

Hey folks,

I got an email about this so I thought I'd say something. This thread is getting way to risque and very...well...very intense, maybe too intense for some readers. So please tone it down a bit if you can. I know you put the proper rating on the thread, but I think it may be exceeding it.

Thanx for listening,

DG

[The_NewCatwoman]

OMG, sure. I don't wanna get kicked off or anything. It's actually the most ummm, mature, thing I've ever written. But I'll definitely tune it down if that's what I need to do. 'Kay?