Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 {This one's a continuation of Subpace (Below) and Chain of Evidence (Above)
Also, a WiP, there's a couple more scenes to dial in, but they're not
critical beyond continuity.  If you read any of the stories leading up to
this, I probably don't have to tell you this is potentially triggering for
Rape survivors.  There's also a bit of Mind Control, but it's subtle, and
built apon the manipulations of previous installments.}
   Belted {MFM+ Bond Maso Pica Drug Rape Fant}
   I tried to desensitize myself.  If I was going to do this, I had to get
past the subject matter.  Not just sex, Maurey helped a lot with that, and
I was grateful, but this wasn't about sex.  Not on the undernet, sex
doesn't sell.  This wasn't making love, it was abuse, and to stop it, I had
to face it.  At first I could analyze it, like Evidence.  Try to choke down
my fear, and hurt, just dispassionately watch the action.  Distance myself,
hopefully without disassociating completely.
   "In here!" He dropped his keys, and gear in the valet, and his heels
klunked in the hall.
   He sniffed at the door, and I realized how much I'd stank up the office.
"Whatcha watching?" Not really turned on again, I was starting to get
familiar with the apartment, or maybe a small house, from what little I
could see of the exterior.  But I'd been at it all day, so the stink of sex
had gone stale.  I plugged in the peripheral radio as a repeater, and
switched to the Tablet.
   You're not supposed to broadcast this stuff wirelessly.  The Undernet,
or at least this DBS had software, not uncommon to detect, and disable
drivers, but there's a lot of open frequencies in the spectrum, and it
could only account for the common ones.  So, I patched from Serial I/O,
wired up a dedicated box, and wrote the signal processing screen to use a
disused cellular band.  I doubt anyone in the complex was sophisticated
enough to even detect it, unless they had an old brickphone, and the towers
had been replaced with DPCS/6G.  Even if I was under surveillance, it had
it's own unique encoding, and the key rotated on a captive list with
handshakes.  They couldn't even get an entire frame before it rotated to
another key prime.
   "Nikki again, huh?" Anything that could be encoded could be decoded, of
course, but I'd estimate it would take tens of man-hours, and changed in
miliseconds.  The NSA might be able to put it back together, with a
dedicated 'Frame, in a couple years, for a few seconds of feed, and it
wouldn't be admissible evidence for the amount of processing it would take.
But the technical details bore him.
   We settled on the couch, in his arms, and watched.  The first video
wasn't bad, just a fairly typical Power-Reassurance fantasy, breaking in at
night, watching her sleep, actually looked kind of staged, bad acting on
her part.  Same set-up, though.  Head mounted PoV cam, and handheld, the
latter switching from Visible to NiR and zoom/focusing, either remotely, or
automatically.  Weird latex underwear with integrated condom.  I nodded,
"She's pregnant now." The timestamps were scrubbed, so there's no telling
how old these are.
   I restarted it.  Fast-forwarded it past her cooking up.  I never shot
up, just did pills for a few months, but.  I can't help remembering the
feeling.  The, I don't know, synthetic well being?  It was relaxing, as
relaxed as I've ever been, it felt like I'd never hurt again, until it wore
off.  "There," he said, and I looked back, "She's done."
   A little blood popped out from a fresh hole beneath the hard pinhole
scars on her arm.  She pulled the buckle off the end and let it fall on the
bed, set down the syringe.  Completely relaxed, "Hnh!" she sighed, closed
her eyes, and her fingers started working again.  Between her legs, lazily,
I started to warm up.  She was twisted up on 1 hip, her leg slightly bent
so she could get her arm in there around her tummy.  Not fat, she had
little apart from her chest, firmer, like an oversized breast implant.
   Or a pregnant junky.
   My skin crawled, but I was starting to feel the, I don't know,
mysophilia?  Not quite, dirty.  IDFK, all I can compare it to is Oscar the
Grouch.  He didn't live in a trashcan, and do other things most people hate
because he had to.  He was wired wrong, or written that way.  He liked
them, and hated normal things like being clean, or compliments, which made
him uncomfortable.  Like Masochism, I supposed.  Why would someone like
pain?  I could almost understand Sadism, if I was angry enough to want to
hurt someone, but this?  She was one hell of a Masochist.
   It wasn't a turn-on for me, but I was getting to the point where I could
be turned on, in spite of it.  She's so pale, you can really see the flush
on her face, her chest above, and between her swollen breasts.  She was
definitely bustier now, though her arms, and legs were no less boney, she
looked atrophied.  Vestigal around the round soft jiggly fat on her chest,
the new life growing inside her.  It's just so, weird, the contrast, it was
almost a turn-on.  I certainly felt hot, sweaty, and a little damp.
   I got his pants open, and he squished through my fingers.  It had been a
couple hours, several since he'd gone to work, to shuffle paperwork,
between active cases.  This stuff didn't turn him on, like I did, but I
slowly felt the blood pumping in.  It thickened, plumped, and swelled, so I
twisted my hand around to grip the base, between his pubes, and the soft
loose skin of his scrotum.  I set the screen up, to rub them, pull them up,
and pressed the spot underneath.  He let a breath out of his nose, and he
was as hard as he can get.  I shook it, like a bat, and it just swung
without bending.  Or straightening, at the bottom of the swing, I like the
slight upward curve he has, it allows him to reach the sensitive spot
inside, from the right angle.
   "What the fuck!" he jumped, and his eyes flew open.  Wide, the screen
had switched to PoV, standing over her, looking down.  "I thought you were
off that shit!"
   Her eyes were open too, but half slitted, lazy, weak from the drug. 
"Unh!" she moaned, and twisted sensually.  I felt it again, remembered the
feeling of oxycodone.  "Wake-up!" he slapped her, but it dulled the pain,
obviously.  She tried to put an arm up, to fend it off, so he hit her
lower, and I winced at her breast shaking from the smack.  She whimpered,
cradled her chest, and covered her face, so he swatted her ass, and I
looked away.  He was hard now.  I could feel it, focus on that.  But I'd
just watched this part.  Past the point where he hit her pregnant belly. 
The handprint darkening, and reddening enough to see his fingers,
eventually.  "mhn!" She whimpered.
   "Get up." He yanked her off the bed, "You had to use my belt?" Picked it
up, "I'll show you how to use a belt!" The slap was out of frame, but she
jumped.  There, I looked at her face.  Eyes closed, but that's why I could
watch her.  It was fake.  I mean, the slaps were real, the blood from the
needles, and straight probe from the electronics kit.  The ice-pick, and
awl.  The pain, it had to hurt, I knew that.  But she was a masochist, the
most extreme one I'd ever seen, or even heard of.  It only turned her on
more, and she couldn't hide it completely.  "LOOK at me!" Or the look in
her eyes.  I tapped the screen, and zoomed in.
   "She wasn't high!" I gasped.  Her pupils tightened, frame-by-frame in
the light.  "See?" Too tight, and quickly to be relaxed by the heroin.  I
recognized it, remembered the smell, like scorched incense, from the one
time I found it, and ran to rehab.
   He grunted behind me.
   There was a jump-cut.  After she cooked up from a close shot of the
spoon, and the boiling puddle to her arm.  The syringe, needle sinking in.
The clear, clean transparent solution inside.  Saline, or tap-water. 
"She's not even high!"
   "Do we have to keep watching this?" He was uncomfortable.  Struggling to
keep it up in my hand, so I set it down, still paused, and bent to kiss it.
I could smell his sweat, taste it.  Drooling at both ends, I filled my
mouth, pressed it into my throat, and gagged.  Without coughing, but I
remembered the burning in my lungs, the dry irritation of my throat. 
"Ahem!" I brought it up, "Pbt!" And spit it on him.  Nice, and slimy, like
cum, but it didn't taste like anything to me.  Like my spit, my mouth
always tastes like, but it got him nice and slick.
   "Hmm," he rubbed my neck, and brushed the back of my hairline with his
fingertips.  "That's better." Loving, he couldn't make hate to me, even out
of love, knowing I didn't want it, like she did.  She was a mystery, but I
have to admit a bit of fascination.  There's no more intricate a puzzle
than the human mind.
   "Glk gulk grlk!" I remembered her choking, "Khch chk CHK!" Imagined him
forcing me down, twisting the thick felt of my hair in this fist.  But he
didn't.  His hand barely kept up, following my head up, and down.  He
didn't want to hurt me, I couldn't make him, and I loved him for that. 
That's what made it safe, he did it out of love, not hate.
   Maury {MF Spnk}
   I could keep it up now, without the distraction.  I'd read enough of her
notes, once she transcribed, and organized them into something
comprehensible to understand, I think.  It's a puzzle to her.  She doesn't
do Jigsaw, that's too two-dimensional for her, to be an interesting
challenge.  She has a "Cousin" or step-sibling from the foster home that
still sent her wood, and metal ones I couldn't even take apart every year.
That's how her mind works, putting a flat puzzle together is as "Linear as
pulling a yarn to unravel a sweater," she said once.
   People are just another system, to be decoded, and possibly rewritten.
She's not a Profiler, she says, but is becoming a "Mindhacker." Learning
how to get into people's heads, and decrypting them enough to read them,
eventually.  It's not like the movies, where you do a keystroke, the bar
runs out in seconds, and Ding!  The hacker says "We're in." In a matter of
seconds, with a gun to his head, getting a BJ from a hooker.  She was
taking weeks just to hack herself from the inside, and she's the most
brilliant person I'd ever met.
   She sat up, smiled, and wiped her mouth, but I felt nice, and slick in
her fingers.  "Hm," she kissed me, and licked my tongue.  She was so hot, I
couldn't see it, but felt it on her chest, below her neck, above the soft
round swells of her breasts.  The bottom one rubbed on my chest, and she
played with my pubes with her damp fingertips.  I like her hair, all of it.
It clung to her smell, the staleness of it washing away with fresh arousal.
I lifted her arm over my head, and smelled under it.  She had the heat off,
it hadn't warmed up that much, so she didn't smell sweaty.  Pheremones, or
what have you, but they filled my nose, and swirled around in my head.
   She took my hand, and moved it down to her hip.  Around to her nice,
full firm butt.  I rubbed it.  "Hmm." She looked me in the eyes.  "You
think you could spank me?"
   "Uh," I looked down, and let go of her cheek.  "I guess?"
   "Go ahead," she nodded, "Give it a good swat.  Just to see what it feels
like." The problem with analysis is it's not just Intellectual.  This
whole, abusive scene.  The feelings, hurt, hate, fear it's not like regular
natural lust.  I tried it, "Good," she smiled, didn't even wince.  She
can't decode it without that.  At least some sense of what it feels like.
It'd be like figuring out a Junky, without ever feeling what Heroin is
actually like.  She has to do the research, as always.  That's the part the
shows don't show.  The months of dumpster diving for code, writing, prep,
that's all this was.  Or police work.  I know I'm mostly a glorified
librarian with a badge, but een before I got to Cold Cases, I'd say 3/4 of
the job is paperwork, and following the money.  You almost never have to
pull your gun unless you're working the gangs, and most of the guys I work
with have never fired a shot outside the qualifying range.  She's not
really into it, but she has to understand, so she tells me.
   "Ah!" I rubbed it, "No, that's better, harder AH!  Yeah.  It's okay, you
won't hurt me, but I want you to.  I need it," She breathed on my ear, and
her husky voice lowered to a harsh whisper.  "I want you to hurt me."
   She held her breath, bit her lip.  "Okay," grunted a little, then closed
her eyes.  I started going soft, it's such a turn-off, so she got on top of
me.  Sat on it, her fingers tightened on my wrists, and she slapped them on
her sides.  I couldn't help it, in spite of the images in my head, the belt
slapping on her skinny white ass.  It doesn't have a mind of it's own, or
even a heart.  Just nerves, sensitive ones, that felt the pressure. 
Getting tighter, not quite crushed under her weight, but the slick
dampness, the warmth of her wrapped around the top, the hairs crinkling
under the tip as it pushed out, through them.  The sudden jerks from my
hands, the sides of her ass shaking against my fingers, warming against
them.  "Uh!" she slid off to my lap, and quickly unwrapped a rubber before
the selling went down.
   But I was so hard, watching her tits swing in, and out.  The thick
wrinkle in her belly, holding it.  I grunted, and my butt sank into the
couch from the greasy squeek on my sensitive tip before she rolled the ring
down and pinched out the tip.  "Uh!" Then moved up, I held myself under her
so she could pull apart her lips, flash the light skin inside, flushed red.
I'd never seen that before, not that I'd been with that many women, only 1
other colored one, but Mona was darker inside, while she was almost white?
It disappeared behind the rubber tip, slipping up, and back.  God she was
wet, and she practically stank, but I loved it.
   "Nh!" she grunted, then I felt her sigh, like a buzz through the
diaphragm, turning into a soft moan when I bottomed out.  Even through the
lubed barrier, I could feel her cervix, tighten reflexively from the
contact.  "Spank me." She whispered.  I pulled back, and slapped, but she
didn't react, just shook against me.  "Harder!" she slapped, and rubbed my
chest.  I didn't like that, so I slapped them again, so she wouldn't have
to.  Then again, and again.
   She didn't fuck me, just sat on it, shaking inside her with each double
swat.  I changed it up, left, and right so her chest swung side-to-side,
and it slipped around in her.  "Ah, yeah!  Yeh!  Nh!  NiIIIGH!" She held
her breath, and grunted, but I kept swatting her faster, until my fingers
stung, and tingled.  I stopped, had to, but she grabbed my shoulders, and
rose up to stab into her, hard.  And harder, faster than I thought she
could move, but her chest bounced in front of me.  Brushed around my face,
so I grabbed them.  Squeezed them over my mouth, and cheeks until I had to
lay my head back, and breathe.
   She was sweating now, tasted salty, but fresh.  I felt it run down my
nose a little and went in for more.  "Oh, ah!  AhhHH!  Fuck!"
   The first time I got her off took a lot longer, and two rubbers.  Even
with foreplay, she was barely warming up when I got off.  I had to go down,
and finger her until I got hard again, and even then she barely finished
before me.  So, I was a bit surprised when she relaxed, but I felt her
twitch against the tip of my rubber.  At least I didn't think she was into
it, but now, she was getting off on it.  The pain.  I went soft, I have to
admit I don't like it.  She panted, and rolled back on her side.  "Huhuh,"
she took a deep breath, "Huhhhhhh." And coughed, once.  I got up, opened
the patio door, but she didn't have to spit.  So, I slipped off the rubber,
fixed my pants, and got out my Ultralights.
   She doesn't like it.  The smell, especially, and the drug.  It's not
like caffeine, it's bad for me, my lungs, might give me cancer.  But she
can make an exception, for times like theses.  Right after sex, she
understands.  She just won't kiss me until I wash off the stink, and rinse
out my mouth.  Oh well, it calms me down.  My hands stopped shaking, and
tingling from pins, and needles.  She got out, and left the shower running.
I smelled the vinegar tang of her douche, and heard her drop the seat.
   "I hope that's not going to turn into, a regular thing."
   "Of course not," she laughed.
   "But you got off so fast!" I looked around the curtain.
   She sighed, looked up sincerely so I could see that she was telling the
truth.  "I just got a head start," she shook her head slightly.  "I didn't
get off on the pain, it hurt.  But now I think I understand it better." She
grabbed a towel, started wrapping it tight around her hair, so I stuck my
head under the water, and let it drown everything out.
   Starla {FM Nude NS.  F Solo, MF Porn...}
   "I think I found them," I handed him his towel, and pulled mine off of
my hair.  "Or I'm a lot closer." I guessed.  Scratching my scalp with the
tips, I picked it out until the roots stopped pulling, then patted it into
shape in the mirror.
   "Where?" He scooted behind me, and turned to the bedroom.
   "Columbia," I pulled my hips back from the sink, "Or near there.  Almost
a mile outside the new 474 loop." Overlaying it on the map, I can't account
for any degree of accuracy, but probably outside city limits.  "Nothing out
there, not even a trail on the map." Google didn't zoom in that far, or
send a car to render it at ground level, of course.
   "South Carolina?" I hung up the towels, and grabbed his clothes.
   "Missouri," I shook my head, and he took them.  To empty the pockets, I
looked down to him pulling out the belt, and shook that thought out of my
head.
   "So out in the woods?" He guessed.
   "No," I sighed, "It was a phoneline, hard wired but not on their network
schematic.  " Updated a few months ago, since they finished the upgrades.
"I need to finish the video," I went out to pick up the tablet, "And take
some notes." In a towel, some kids playing on the roof across the fence
stopped, and looked at me, so I straightened up, and stepped out of view of
the patio-door.
   "Can you do that in the office?" I nodded to myself, and pulled the
chain to close the half-drawn drapes.
   "Sure, you want to cook, or order something?  It could take a while." I
set down the mobile screen, and switched back to a monitor.
   Ignored him talking into the phone, to "Vito" apparently.  Not really
hungry, I didn't care to ask what, he knows what I like.  I [esc]ed out of
fullscreen to check the Fetish Tags: [...Bond Pros Gang Rape.] and sighed.
I guess that's one good thing, I managed to desensitize myself enough to
accept my own Rape.  So many wasted years, sexually repressed, I felt like
I was catching up.  I turned on the mic, and cleared my throat, maxed the
video player, and unpaused it.
   "AH!" I plugged in some headphones so I didn't have to close the door.
   "It's called Belted, so I don't guess there's much mystery there.  He's
not faking it, those are real welts on her buttocks, and thighs.  Uh!?"
Wince.  "That's gotta hurt.  He bent down, to look behind her.  At the mark
welling on her perineal, and pubic area.  Fuck that sh' ah!  I can't
imagine.  He stood her up, and turned her around, he makes sure the PoV cam
can make out the welt, the round almost pointed tip of the belt.  I have to
wonder about the fetus' safety, hitting her, God!  Her belly again, just
slapping it, but, uh.  They are obviously not too concerned for it's
safety.
   I'm glad I, ehm.  I really needed that break with Mar.  Uh," Try not to
look away.  "It feels.  Idafuckinow, I think I got a little endorphin buzz,
now that the pain has worn off.  Dopamine, I guess.  It's not, as intense
as say Morphine, maybe a half dose of Codeine?  Syrup, 'Just to take the
edge off' I used to say.  Um." I swallowed, "Uh, not as long lasting,
already starting to fade, but similar.  Maybe that's the attraction.  It's
not as intense as sex, but with it.  I don't know, it felt, stronger, and
came so fast." I'm still learning, how to feel pleasure.  Get out of my
head enough to shut off the heartless analytic mind, and just feel it, but
"The shock they, distracted me?  INS, it's like I couldn't think about the
biological functions, or wonder what he was thinking.  So, I could pay more
attention to the pleasure?  Maybe.
   Okay, he's done beating her, across the back mostly after that wicked
lash across her Twat.  Nh?  Aaand now he's yoking her, on the bed.  Fucking
her too, in that typical grey latex underwear of his.  Funny, a dominant
latex fetishist, and auto-piqueristic masochist.  I still can't figure out
how those fit together, but 2 more pieces of the overall puzzle.  I guess
what's most confusing is the Picarism.  I had to look it up, so it's a
weird concept for me, but needles?  Ew.  In the manuals, it's described as
primarily an opportunistic assault on strangers, like a Frotteurist, only
stabbing, instead.  Obvious phallic displacement for a man, but for a
woman, doing it to herself?
   Wait, she does it alone.  Always alone, it's obviously a turnon for her,
may even be paraphilic, to get her aroused.  But he doesn't watch, he
always comes in after she's done, or you see the fresh wounds when the
footage starts.  So, for her it might be like Victim Rehearsal.  You know
how some lustkillers crossdress for their plantacy, and feel themselves up
with the 'no, please stop!'?  Huh, okay, she's an addict, possibly
ex-prostitute, sooo fuckin skanky.  So, I guess I chalked the gloves, and
rubber up to fetishism, and disease protection, but what if it's more than
that?  I think, he might have an aversion to body fluids?  Possibly, or
it's not uncommon for OCD.  On second thought, I always thought the set was
unconvincing, but maybe it's not that they didn't bother to make it look
lived in.  It's plausible that he's just so fastidious that he puts
everything back, in it's place, or makes her do it.  Scrub everything down,
like the kitchen that looks like it would belong in a restaurant, instead
of an apartment.
   That would certainly explain the control issues, but let me run it back.
There's some dialog, now that he's done.  He's invited some friends over,
kind of spoiled by the codes, thank god I was never Gang-raped.  She says
she's not in the mood, but can't hide her excitement.  I must admit, the
idea, huH!  They had to have heard it, out in the living room.  Not like
he's answering the door, or letting them in, they're all ready, and
waiting. Probably came in while he was abusing her, to set the scene.  All
3 naked, masked, no 4 of them?  All those," I almost giggled, "God all that
Cock!"
   It was getting hot in here, so I pulled out the towel, and let it hang
aside.  "Hm, I.  Well, I never.  Really thought about it, but they're
passing her around, and feeling her up, while he counts the money." a
knock, "Mh, Can you close the door, hun?  Thanks, I'll be out in a minute.
I don't want to, think about it like that, with my hands behind my back,
and the belt so tight.  All those welts are really showing up now, but what
if.  What if it wasn't rape?  Can you imagine all those guys, wanting me,
so much they'd pay for it?  Jesus, there had to be a couple grand there. 
MnhHhHhuh!.."
   Morris {MF NS Myst}
   How can she?  I mean, I know she has to, part of the investigation.  I
never want to pull my gun, much less shoot some damned body, but it could
happen.  But I do believe she's starting to get into it, and I don't like
the thought of that.  "Hey, uh." I held the door, and took the bag.
   "Sign this," I know the drill, but the delivery girl didn't look in, see
the door closed, much less what she was watching in there, with the
headphones on.  "Here's your copy."
   I shut the door, and heard the screen swing shut behind it.  But
gang-rape?  I rubbed my eyes, and carried the sandwiches over to the
kitchen.  Side, of the big main room.  No bar on the end, or step down
beside it.  Patio door in the back instead of the side door to the muddy
sunken porch in the videos.  Let's see, the (V) must be mine, no sauce, sub
Avacado spread for a little extra.  The "California club" for her, I turned
on the kettle, and dropped a bag of decaff in for her when she was done.
   I understand, but I don't have to like it.  That's how these guys work,
or I figure most of them are men.  Statistically rapists, sadists,
pedophiles, and sexually motivated serial killers generally are, though
there are exceptions.  Like, uh.  Can't think of one off the top of my
head. Oh yeah, that hooker down in Florida.  Made a movie about it,
"Wournos." That one.  Maybe it was something in the water, like half of
those hebephilic teacher/boy stories came out of there too.  I shrugged,
and crumpled up the wrapper with all JJ's all over it.  Good sandwich, I
barely remember tasting, so I wiped the smooth green glob from my mouth,
and ate it.  Licking my lip, a little stubble there, so I went in, and
grabbed the shaving cream.  Just in case she was up for desert, after her
turkey/veggie sandwich, and the moans I could hear through the walls.  Her
moans, not from the speakers.  That ugly junky didn't sound like that.
   What's the attraction?  But, if we're going to do more than try to find
a new system to pull LUDs from, we needed new content.  Verge's old stuff,
"How I made a sex slave" just got hits on users, which I can't even arrest.
No childporn, which is all the feds will cross state lines for arrests,
funny how Kidnapping, and Murder only count for the victim.  The Content,
software isn't enough for a Federal warrant, so I'd have to coordinate with
MoSP, probably.
   New content means new victims, and we can't do that.  Not just legally,
or ethically, I can't bring myself to, I can barely spank my woman without
it going soft.  Well, that was the first time, I'm sure with practice, I
can desensitize myself to it.  Like handling a gun, you have to shoot it
until you can handle the recoil, and report.  It's just a matter of time.
But that's not good enough, you can watch S&M online.  Legally, stream it
live, so why would anyone need the Undernet for that?  So, it had to be
convincing, at least.  That Nikki (Probably an alias) couldn't act that
well, but the abuse was real enough.  She just enjoyed it too much.
   But they could overlook that, judging from the traffic Star picked up. I
couldn't do that, to her, or anyone, so something else?
   "Hooker" {MF Porn Vice Bond Pros Fant}
   "Hey man wan," she dropped her arm, and finished, "na date?" Shrugging
she picked up the lipstick stained cup, tried to take a sip, pulled off the
cap, poured the last dregs down, and crossed her knees under the short
tight skirt.  Deep breath she shrugged, turned, and went around the corner
of the wall.
   Shut off the camera, and relocate to the alley.  I unfolded the screen,
so I could look up.  Nodded, and started rolling again, so she walked
around the corner, looked around, squatting, and slipped her panties down.
Bright hot pink, around the matching straps on the new hooker pumps.  I
felt around the buttons, found the double switch, and hit ^ to zoom in.
   It autofocused, digitally on her cunt, between her thighs.  A thin
stream trickling out, rolling around her lips, and pattering to the alley
floor.  I snapped shut the screen again, and set it up in the alley.  She
took out a liter of Coke, unscrewed the cap, and waited for me to go get
the car.  By the time I got back, with the headset on, she'd finished it,
and straightened up.  I picked up the feed from the alleycam, and she
squatted down again.  From both sides, she dropped her draws, and let
another trickle out under her.
   "WOOPWOOP!" The lights flashed red, and blue across the alley walls, and
I shone the spot down, to blind the camera.  She got up quick, pulling up
her undies, and smoothing out her skirt.  "Hookin' tonight?"
   "No officer," she acted surprised enough, "I just got lost, and I
couldn't find no restroom was open." She can't do 'Ghetto Mouph,' even with
practice, but she didn't have many lines.
   "Detective," I held up my carrier, but with one eye closed, watching the
alley view to make sure it was blocked by her body.  "Vice."
   "Honest, sir," she lied.
   "Oh come off it," I laughed, "You don't dress like that to get lost in a
neighborhood like this in the middle of the night.  Come on."
   I pulled her arm, and she clacked on the heels to keep up.  Not really a
neighborhood, this area was closed.  Off-limits, unless you had some way to
get access.  A couple favors, told the guys she wanted to do a little
role-play, which is true enough.  Just left off what we'd be using it for.
Dragging her back to the unmarked, she resisted, so I pushed her over the
hood.  "What's your name, hun?"
   "Uh, stop you fucking pig.  Ah!" I twisted her arm.  "Ow, you're hurting
me!" Looked down to show my thumb pressed into her palm, hand wrapped
around her's, and the arm flipping out of the cuff with ratcheting clicks.
Yeah, I can pull off Cop convincingly.
   "You're resisting." I clicked it on loosely, over the broad leather
bracelets, between the bands of pyramid studs.  The girl at the shop said
they're great for cuffs, so they don't hurt your wrists, so we bought a
pair.  "NAME." I demanded.
   "Ah!" I twisted her other arm, gently.  "StellAh!  Fucker."
   "All right, Stella." I clipped on the other cuff, carefully.  "You're
under arrest for Solicitation of Prostitution, Public Urination, Indecent
Exposure, and Resisting Arrest."
   "Wanna add jaywa," I grabbed her hair, "Ah, OW!" Braided so I could pull
it.  "I ain't fightin'!"
   "The building owner may also press charges for Trespassing at any time."
Thought that a nice touch of realism, after all, why Was I out here in the
first place?  Somebody reported a hooker turning tricks behind their
building, of course.  "You have the right to remain silent," I pushed her
down on the hood again.  "If you waive that right, anything you say may be
taken into Evidence.  I'm recording this as standard procedure against
abuse, or allegations." New mandate, Ferguson statute.
   "AHH!" she screamed, "Police Brutality, Rape!"
   "You wanna FEEL brutality!?" I pinched the back of her neck, "You know
there's nobody to hear you," I looked up, and down the street, "Why aren't
you out with the other girls, they throw you off their corner?  What're you
doing out here by the docks?" Nowhere near the harbor, or the lake, we
don't Have docks in Lansing, but an industrial zone looks much like any
other, especially in the alleys between the warehouses.  "I guess I can let
you off with a warning," I looked down her back, pulled up her hands by the
short chain, and felt the back of her skirt.  "It ain't hookin' if you
don't charge me."
   "Ah you sick fucking Pig!" she couldn't struggle, "You're hurting my
arms!" Of course I wasn't, careful not to, but it sounded good for the
tape. "Let me go you sick fuckAh!" That sounded pretty black, I smiled.
   "Or you have the right to legal council," I had the cheap purple cheetah
print pulled up over the whale-tail of her G string.  "If your pimp can't
afford an attorney, one can be assigned by the courts."
   "Alright!" she relaxed, "Okay, we can do a freebie real quick, just stop
Hurting me!"
   "Huh hah ha!" I chuckled as menacingly as I could.
   "Just lemme outta these cuffs you sadistic bastAH!"
   "No," I pulled her up by the braids, "they stay on for now.  How much
money you made tonight?" I pulled at her purse, "Any drugs in here,
needles, weapons?"
   "No," she twisted, "Fuck!" I pushed her on the hood, and she scooted
back on her side to her knees.
   "Don't go nowhere." I found the transmitter, cut it, and saw the left
lens go dark.  "You okay sweety?" I reached out for her face, and she
dropped the act.
   "Yeah, uh." she twisted, "Get these off, now my arms are starting to
hurt."
   "Okay." I pulled out my keys, stuck out the long bar, and felt in the
dim light for the hole.  "There," a twist to release them, and she flopped
her arm over.
   "Uh," she rubbed her shoulder, "Let me take a break." She kind-of hopped
on her heels, to the alley, grabbed the camera, and squatted to let out the
rest of the coke.  "Think we overdid it a little." God it was filthy, I
wanted to take a shower already, but had to unzip my pants to adjust
inside, with the heavy belt.  'Undercover' she let me grow the 'stache out
a little for the role, but I wasn't used to the full kit.  Badge holder,
holster, 2 reloads, tactical light, collapsed baton, and empty cuff strap,
with them still swinging from her wrist.  "The good news is these work."
She twisted the other one back, and forth in the cuff.  "Can you get out
the tape?"
   She unsnapped it, sat sideways behind the wheel, and pulled off a couple
squares with her nails to put over the back of the snaps.  Then, she undid
the other cuff, bracelet, and did those too.  "There." She climbed over, so
I grabbed her purse, and camera off the hood.  Not even a block to the
secondary location, I unlatched the padlock, threw that key through the
window to the seat, and we went in to set up the cameras.  I walked around,
with her remote, switched from view to view with the glasses.
   Weird, takes some getting used to seeing through one slightly tinted
lens, while the other showed the view from the source.  Could be the
pinholes in the corners, Steroscopic PoV.  In 3D if you wanted to run a
phaze-polarized display, whatever that means.  HD3D, is all I know, pretty
expensive.  Not like we wanted to run a gangbang to fund this stuff, but
I'm working with a realtor for the Townhouse.  Not a great market right
now, everyone's broke, except possibly the pervs.
   Everything set, we went back out, I reached through to turn on the light
outside, and shut the door.
   [Restricted Area] [No Admittance]
   I looked over her shoulder, but reached back in her purse, and turned
the cameras on, out of frame.  "Get in there!" the door slammed against the
wall, and she staggered in her heels to fall.
   "Ah!" she whimpered, "aa, god.  You broke my fucking arm!" Out of
script, I stopped...  "Cut, Buff." The safe word, I got down quick, and
touched her arm.  "Ouch!  ah."
   "I'm sorry," I fumbled for her keys, "You really break something?" She
cried while I unhooked her.
   "Help me up, ah fuck!  Goddamn it hurts!" She nodded, and winced, "I
think it's my clavicle."
   Emergency {F+ NS Meds}
   The short slick down jacket didn't help enough.  I didn't scuff my
shoulder on the concrete, but it was so tight, it hurt to change out of the
hooker getup, and into some sweats.  I think I went into shock, and kind of
answered all the questions in a daze.  "I was out running, and I fell.  On
my side, with my arm behind me like this." I showed the nurse with the
other one.  "I think it's my clavicle."
   "Have you broken any other bones, before?"
   "The other one," I nodded, "In soccer." Why I knew how to hold my arm,
and stabilize it without a sling, or splint.  "I don't want any drugs, or
narcotics." Jesus it hurt "I'm recovering from painkillers." She wrote that
down on the paperwork.  Add first aid kit to the list of expenses.  I hoped
that severance check was coming soon.  More like a settlement, I did pretty
much catch a kidnapper single-handedly, but not legally.  The investigation
eventually shut them down, but they had a bonus commission for solving high
profile crimes.  Good publicity, and there was a reward still pending from
the family.  I was pretty lucky, crime-fighting doesn't generally pay,
either.
   This was a setback, though.  They called it a "Partial Spiral Fracture,"
not a full break, but helical cracks around it.  It would take a few weeks,
before I even wanted to think about having my arms behind me again.  Again,
what's the attraction?  A lot of girls are into bondage, even worse than
that.  Hogtied, cocooned, or that weird intricate Japanese rope, thing but
to me, it sucked even without the injury.  So, I thought about what we had
already, beyond cutting the extra footage from the alley.  Maurey walking
back from setting up the camera, waiting for him to pull the camera around
for the second squat, all the OOC from my little break, and brake.
   And all the setup for the Stalking.  I like that fantasy a little
better, and losing the extra 10lbs for the camera didn't hurt, either.  Not
like this, don't laugh, it shakes my shoulders.  "What is this?" I held the
little cup, and looked at them.
   "Just some anti-inflammatory, and muscle-relaxants." he assured me, "No
barbituates, or opioids.  There's a cannibinoid in the green one, there,
but it's proven non habit forming in the FDA trials.  No THC, but there's
some CBD." Don't know that one, but I took it anyway, not really caring. 
The adenalin was wearing off, and I sure could use those endorphins right
about now.
   So, no running, or swimming for a while, I guess.  Hope I don't just
gain it back, but definitely need a re-write to the scripts.  Can't imagine
a Blitz Attack in the woods now, by the Treatment pond you can't smell over
the camera.  It looked enough like a regular park, jogging path instead of
a service road with the camera low enough for the dike to obscure the
security fence, and signs.  And the pool, lap lane, maybe some establishing
monologue, plantacy, no reason the character wouldn't talk to himself."
   "Excuse me?" I looked up, and my face warmed.
   "Nothing," the scrubs kept walking.  What?  It helps me think.
   Secret Admirer {M Solo.  IR NS Stlk Fant}
   "Huhuhuh!" I tried to sound pathetic.  "There she is!" zoomed in on the
table, people, and traffic going past in a blur at random.  Mona knows some
nice places, this one's like a Bistro/Jamaican fusion place, lots of black
clientelle.  "She's too good for the ghetto." True enough, her usual proper
modest protestant suburban wear looked out of place.  She'd put on a little
makeup, had her nails done, from here you couldn't see the ones she broke
replaced by falsies, and painted like the rest.  Not like bling nails, or
whatever, white polished tips, french manicure, not too long.
   Mona dressed down, but she'd lived here.  And her new man, "I wish her
Friend," I thought about her fucking him to get the Hate in my voice,
"Would finish up, and leave, so we can be alone, together." My light
skinned kids playing, I hadn't seen them much lately.  The ladies lifted
their bottles, a Red-Stripe, and a Ginger Beer, my Starla doesn't drink,
said some sort of toast.
   Starla Morris, "She's so beautiful," I like the sound of that.  This
really works, thinking evocative things so you can hear his feelings, in
his voice.  My character, nameless, faceless, behind the camera so I don't
have to wear a mask.  I like this fantasy so much better.  It's closer to
the truth, I don't have to call her nigger bitch, or hurt her, yet.  Again,
she kept her bad arm in her lap, so she doesn't have to wear the sling. 
Our son turned his hat back around, to the side, like a little gangster. 
His birthday hat, "I miss you so much," I got for him.
   He tells himself she loves him, while I know it's true.  I guess it's
like that racist hooker hating bastard saying she wants it, but without the
hate.  I know she does, she tells me.  Even said 'I want you to hurt me.' I
looked around, but picked a good place to park.  No surveillance van to
sign out, so we make do, but there's nobody on this side, no reason for
them to come over here.  I kept my eye out, but managed to get it up.  In
character.  "So beautiful," he whispers, and the camera shakes slightly.
   This is kind of exciting, I'd never, done anything like this, some place
so public, but kept glancing at the camera, between the mirrors, up, and
down the street.  Someone sees me filming, I'm a detective "On the Job,"
but that doesn't go for jerking off, almost line-of sight from children, my
children.  "Damn it." I looked down, filmed it going soft.  "It's okay," he
breathed, "I'll save it for later.  Save myself, for you." Back up to the
table, zoom in again before fixing my pants.  "I love you, Celeste."
   I started the car, and waited for a break in traffic to pull out.  Shut
off the camera, and dropped it on the seat.
   "Celeste" {FM...}
   "Ooh," I closed the screen, "That good!" unplugged the earbuds, and
wrapped them around my hand.  "I was thinking, maybe we can make this a
series.  She can move after the first rape, to the Townhouse before it
sells, maybe we can partially pack so it looks like I'm moving in, and take
my old furniture over there.  Get some footage of the movers from across
the street, and when we get our place, we can do a third place and you can
rape her there.  He nodded, but his face was hard.  "Oh don't worry, It
won't be like Rape, really.  Remember, this is Power-Reassurance, a
'Gentleman rapist.' So, he'll be trying not to hurt hurt, because he thinks
it love."
   "You're sure this is necessary." I was just glad to be out of that
neighborhood, it's gentrified, but a little too close to the inner city. 
And he's driving, so we don't get pulled over.
   Sigh, "No, but I think t's the Best way.  I mean, I'm getting some good
hits on Stella." My wannabe call-girl persona, "But that's mostly just
jungle fever Johns, not really big fish, and I'd kind of like to keep the
Prostitution fantasy." I really don't want to think about myself as a
whore. I don't know if I can bear it.  "We don't need the money that bad,
and I wonder if you could watch me, with another man, for money, with the
camera."
   "Yeah," he smiled, and his frown melted, "Actually, that's kind-of the
hottest thing, so far."
   "Really?" He nodded, and glanced at me in the rearview.  "Really."
   "Not the money," he let out the rest of the breath, and took another, "I
mean, I'm not sure what I mean, but I think it's kind of like how you're
flattered by the idea of someone valuing you, for money?  Yeah, well
instead, I looked up some, mainstream porn.  Cuckhold, who knew there was
so much of it?"
   "Uh," I rolled my eyes, "Like the whole internet?  Rule #34."
   "What?" he laughed.
   "There's porn for that," I quoted, "No exceptions." 34a is: and it's
probably Made in Japan.
   "So I saw this one, and it was a white girl.  You know I'm not into
skinny little white chicks, but I searched Interracial, and you know the
vast majority of it is like, Blacks on Blonds?"
   "Straight guys," I shrugged, "Big dick/little girl." And winced a
little.
   "Yeah, well." he laughed harder, "If you haven't noticed, I Am a
straight guy."
   "Oh," right?  "Good point.  But not too big, right?  Like bigger'n you?"
I rubbed his leg.
   "No!" He shook his head, "That's the whole point!  I mean, I was
thinking about how you're," he paused, and picked his words carefully, "So
hard to satisfy?"
   "Just making up for lost time." Ooh, look!
   "Yeah, well." he noticed, and relaxed his leg, so we didn't start
speeding.  "Imagine if you get this big hunky guy.  Like a black one, for
the movie, Celest wouldn't have a white boyfriend, right?  Well, what if he
can't satisfy you, but when he's done, and leaves you alone, then I come
in, and can."
   "Yeah," he was excited, "That would be a good trigger for him." His
zipper went down, "Youah, wanna pull over?"
   "Already looking for the place."
   "Nh!" I just let go of the seatbelt, and it pulled itself back.
   "Careful now," he cut the motor, and shifted in his seat.  My hand was
already working, so he pulled the release for the column to swing up, and I
bent to taste him.  "Ahhh," he relaxed and felt my hair.  It flattened, and
he pushed me down.
   "Whl!" Hard, I closed my eyes, and relaxed my throat.  He lifted his
leg, and leaned it against the door.  I tapped his pants when I had to
breathe.  "Kuh!  Huh hhh." He pushed me down, and throatfucked me.  Hard,
and fast, he quickly let me go, and I pulled back to seal around his
cockhead.  It filled my mouth with thick hot wet splashes, and I didn't
miss a drop.  "Smwuit!" I sat up, felt around his neck, and fed it to him.
A little spilled out the corner of my mouth when his eyes went wide, and I
couldn't help smiling.
   "Mh?" He smiled back, and licked it off my tongue.  I swallowed about
half of it, and broke the kiss when he did too.  "Hh, huh hu?"
   "You've been smoking more," I smacked his cheek, and pulled the pack out
of his pocket.  "Lights?!"
   He shrugged, and took it.  "I've been thinking about that too." Fished
out his lighter, "It's the same price for less nicotine, and what the fuck
am I smoking for anyway?"
   "At least roll down the window!" I zipped him up, and got out.  Looked
around, just an alley, not one in particular, I opened the back door, and
fished around in the shopping bags.  "Ah!" I found the Coke, and screwed
off the cap.  "Kah!"
   "Don't drink the whole 2 liter, alright?" He tapped the ash off on the
door.
   "Well," I screwed it back on, "Don't smoke the whole pack." I slammed
the door, and flushed.  "Man that was fucking lame!" He laughed out the
open window.  "Hang on," I answered my phone, "Yeah?"
   "Is this Stella Celeste?" I lowered my voice.
   "Yes?" she sounded familiar.
   "Oh high!" she laughed, "This is Mistress Nikki."
   "OMG," I covered the mic, and tapped over to Speaker.
   "We got your movies, and some of them were real hot!" Mo stuck his head
out the window, but I was already coming around the engine, making stabby
motions at my belly with my thumb cocked, as if over a plunger.  "So, I'm
in the hospital right now, but if you want to set up a meet, some time in
the next few weeks..."
   "Anything serious?" I sounded concerned.
   She laughed, "Oh no, just having a growth removed."
   .
   .
   .
   I took that as a pregnant pause.  "Oh!  Boy or girl?"
   "Like I fucking care, I didn't even look at it.  Ask Dell when you get
to talk to him.  And Don't.  Tell.  Me.  I don't want to know, I never
wanted the danmed thing in the first place." She said 'daNmed', enunciated
the silent N, intentionally for some reason.  "Anyway, I should be back up
to snuff in a couple weeks, so if you want to come down here, or us to go
up there, whatever.  Maybe we can meet in the middle."
   "We'll work out some arrangements," I cut it out, "What a fucking
Psycho! Did you hear that?"
   He looked serious.  Real serious.  "Uh," thought, "I think that first
movie, the one before they started their own DBS?"
   "Substation?" When did he ever watch that?  I mean, for a cop, even a
librarian cop he's pretty squicked out by violence, and that was pretty
graphic.  The only way you could tell it was the first is either watching
it stream In Realtime, before it was a PPV, or because of the way she
looked.  Hardly recognizable, it was the only one on that DBS until they
released that PoV one with the bedside cam.  The only one with a mask, he
opened showing it in the reflection on the window, but I could tell it was
the same guy.  Same build, same weird rubber dick, same basic fantasy.  I
thought it was Virgil for a while until they kept releasing new footage
long after he was dead, but he had a copy of it.  Marked as Original, he
took credit for it, lazy fucking Narcissist.
   "Yeah," he nodded, once, hard.  "I think that one was, real."
   "Oh," I thought.  "Ohhhh!"
   Nikki {F [Text]}
   [Okay, so I wathced all your uploads, and I really like the Stalker
vids. For movies without ANY sex in them, at all, that's the rael deal, and
I can't wait to see what happens next.  So anyway, I hope he works up some
balls real soon, because that's just about enough tention, but you really
get to know the stalker, you know what I mean.
   The cop and hooker one, I don't know.  It was kidna fake.  I mean, the
camera placement is just too convienent init?  There was the one acrossed
the street, the other 2 in the alley, the dashboard cam makes sense,
because cop car, but it's almost like shot to well.  You know what I'm
saying?  It got pretty intence whenever he was raping you in the hood, but
you couldn't even see it.  Where he was sticking the night stick so he had
to tell you "You like it up the ass." See what I mean?  Watch it agian.
   Oh, and IKD what you mean by "Great Lakes" but that's a pretty big area.
If you're talking Chigaco, then that's easy either way, but Wisconsin, I
don't want to got to Wisconsin, so we'd rather you come down.  Detroits'
like smack dab in the middle so I'd say Indianapolis, does that sound like
a good happy medium?  Cleavland is pretty much the same.  Buffalo, or I
don't know, Canada, we'd have to talk about.  But let us know.
   Dell says you cover your tracks real good, and he would know.  He built
half the sub-network around here, but he says "Good Job" on the
merry-go-round bounce, whatever that means.  He's not even sure if you Are
in the Great Lakes, or you're just covering your location good, which we
undersnad.  Can't be to carefull amirite?
   Hell love too see you to, but he's a little tied up right now, and I
GTG. He been bad, and I need to teach him a lessen, so TTYL, K?
   Love, Misterss Nikki.]
   Star' {MF...}
   "Wow," I giggled, "Either she's severely dyslexic, or she's raelly
faking it.  I can't tell, but she said 'Danmed' which is Damned spelled
backwards, and made a point of pointing it out.  So, it's an act, or she's
aware of it, and likes making fun of herself."
   "Mhm?"
   "Oh," I got out my phone, "And what do you think of this guy?" I brought
up the attachments, and flipped through the photos blind.  "I know he's
bald, or at least that's why I figure he shaves his head, but it's also a
good way to deny evidence.  For a rapist." His eyes widened, and narrowed,
but he nodded.  I turned the phone, and laughed, "Oh, you know everyone has
10 inches on the internet.  No telling what he really looks like," but if
he does have that pig sticker...  Sigh, "But I think he'd be perfect to
send the 'Secret Admirer' stalker into a rage, huh?" Cough self
consciously. "Um, are you gonna say something?"
   "How much for anal?"
   "What?!
   "Seriously, 'Stella'.  You want to do the whole sex for money thing, so
how much would she charge for butfucking?"
   "Ew!" I hit his arm, and laughed.  He looked at me, shifted his hip a
little, and pulled out his wallet.  "Seriously?" I covered my mouth.
   Munch {MMFF NS}
   I went in first, got a pot of oolong, and waited for it, carried it to
the table.  She slurped noodles, though her belly was gone.  "Hey!" She
chewed, and I saw a grey tooth.  She swallowed, looking up, and
straightened in the booth.  I glanced around the buffet, but figured we'd
get the meet, and greet out of the way.
   "What?" I looked down subconsiously.
   "Cop," she tracked with her eyes, but her face was a blank.
   "Oh," I laughed, "He just had to park the car." Dell came, and sat down
with a plate of Sushi.
   She covered her mouth, "Oh, that was his fantasy!" Thankfully.
   "No." His face was red, and he didn't sit down.  "I have a day job," he
shrugged, and rubbed my shoulder.  "I'm taking some time off, and several
states out of my jurisdiction."
   "Can you grab me some hot, and sour, with Wontons if they have it."
Then, when he was gone.  "Don't worry, he hates violence, against women."
   "Me too." Dell could handle chopsticks.  I mean, he carefully picked up
wasabi, which isn't easy to do, and smeared it on.
   "How's the Sushi here?"
   "Not bad," He shrugged, "Fucking fantastic for a buffet." He sneezed.
   "I'm a Dominant Masochist." How the fuck does that even work?  "No
really," she laughed, "I have to make him hurt me."
   "It's the main part of our fantasy." He left the plate on the corner of
the table, and took the chopsticks with him.
   "OCD?" I caught up.
   "Functional Obsessive Compulsive," he nodded.  "I manage it to a decent
level, and it helps me with my work."
   "Telecommunications?" He looked surprised.  "Nikki told me you wired
half the local systems, so I'm guessing phoneline."
   "Troubleshooter," he nodded, "These are real good, with the orange eggs
on the outside.  I.  D.  K.  if you'll like the sauce on this one." It
looked the same, except for chipotle aiolli or something squirted all over
it.  I used the tongs to grab some California, Philly, and crunchy tempura
shrimp rolls.  And a couple blocks of rice with salmon sashimi.  Loaded up
on the ginger.
   "And if you need anything else," she jumped when I tapped her on the
shoulder.  Understandable, Nikki's pretty fucking creepy.
   "Can you change the water on this?" I tapped the little steel pot, "It
tastes like brown water."
   Nod, "Certainly," nod.
   "And where do you hide the chopsticks?"
   "I'll bring you some." Nod.
   "Thanks." Purely out of experiment, I split the cheap bamboo ones when
they came, and snaked one of Dell's orange maki while they where still
fresh from the package.  Nikki giggled.  He looked at me, and I kept my
lips closed.  "Mm!" I swallowed, "You're right, those are good." I smiled.
   He shrugged, and turned to pick up another dab of wasabi.  I noticed
they weren't arranged neatly on the plate, but he shook it out of his head
with some effort.  "So yeah," she dropped her fork with a plastic Clink! 
"I don't know what you guys just talked about, but you got Dell's number!"
She got up for another run.
   I sipped, "Mm!" Good soup.  Pretty much how I gauge a Chinese place, or
the Twice Cooked Pork if they have it.  The shrimp roll wasn't very crispy,
though.
   "So she was telling me about Consensual Rape." Another one like Dominant
Masochist, I think she's an Iconoclast.  Or a mystery wrapped in an enigma
wearing a clown suit.
   "How's that work?" Sashimi tasted fresh enough.
   "Well, the way she said it, you Can rape the willing, but you have to
find something they're not willing to do.  Also, it's possible to ask, or
even make someone rape you,"
   "If you play your cards right." She dropped a plate of fried, and
stabbed something with a fork.  Might've been orange, or sweet and sour
pork/chicken.
   "F'rinstance," I watched Dell eat, it was kind-of fascinating.  "You got
a thatch raping a whore..."
   "What's a thatch?" I interrupted, and gave her a chance to swallow.
   "Switch psycho.  Rapid devolver, like organized to disorganized, or
masked hate to raging overkill." Cast iron stomach, I guess, she slurped
noodles, "It's from a book, Hard Wired, I kind of got into Cyberpunk after
I met Dale." She hugged him, and he squirmed uncomfortably.
   3 things you need to know about Nikki: She's.  Not.  Stupid.  She hides
it well, but I began to realize she was more like Joker levels of
cleverness masked by abstract nihilism.  Don't ask me how that fucking
works, but I was starting to learn.
   She licked her lip, felt around the grey tooth, and belched, quietly. 
"Compliments to the chef." The closest table got up, and left.  "So I guess
we're a lot alike," she shrugged.
   "How do you figure?" I had a fleeting fantasy of strangling her
unconscious on the table behind her, then realized she'd get off on it.
   "I mean other than being ex-drug addicts resexualized by rape, and
seriously forcing our fantasies on codependent men," she shrugged, "I guess
you're right, not really."
   "Okay?" I shook my head, "I'd add amateur profilers to that list."
   "You think?" she guffawed, and snorted.  Then I realized she was playing
it up, but she had me going there.  "I'm also a little Psychoaffective."
   "Hows that?" I finished my plate, but lost my appetite, so I sipped tea,
and soup.
   "Whell, I was never diagnosed, I don't do therapy," she waved limp
wristed, "Trust." elbow propped on the table, "So, they called me Bipolar,
and Borderline, but I think it's more like foile a` deaux.  My mom was
nuckin futz, then I ran off with this tweeker boyfriend, so I picked that
up, and then I got locked up with this Sadistic Sociopath, and wound up
torturing him to death."
   "Um," Dell spoke up, "That wasn't on the video, because I used the
hardline I'd wired up for the substation, and emulated his network, so we
kind-of inhereted his DBS.  I originally imaged his drives as insurance,
but once his terminal burned out, it was just easier to get his LUDs, and
steal his user list."
   "Mhm?" I swallowed, "So how did you guys meet?"
   "I saved her from her rapist."
   "You gave me a ride!"
   "Okay, she killed him, and I got her out before the fire-trucks and Cops
showed up."
   "What'd I miss?" Morry sat down with desert.  I snagged one of his
cheesecake cups.
   "So how about you two?"
   "Oh, I was working with the crime-lab, and this teenager disappeared. 
Morty was working with Missing Persons, until she turned up dead, turned
out to be this neckbeard loser with delusions of grandeur I was working
with, so I hunted him down and killed him."
   "Technically he killed himself."
   "Yeah, alright." I amended, "I tortured him until he killed himself. 
Then I thought Dell there was him, but I guess not, because he's dead."
   "She's a little psycho-affective too," he pointed with his fork.
   "Patrick!" I hit his arm, then covered my mouth.  He hates that name!
   "Well?" he shrugged, "What does a psycho affective do when left to her
own devices?" He grinned.
   "Ab?"
   "Well she might surround herself with machines until she starts acting
like one.  Then a Malignant Narcissist, then a cop with repressed rape
fantasies..."
   "All right!" The waitress passively aggressively dropped off the fortune
cookies, and bowed out gracefully.
   "And now you're one upping alpha-psycho over there."
   "Thenks!" she took that as a compliment.  Well, we already payed, so I
knocked back the last of the tea, and got up to leave.
   They smoked out front.  He was up to Newports now.  "You want to drive?"
I handed Dell the keys.  He took out his hanky, and gave them to Maury.  He
tucked the hanky in a pocket, and showed her where he parked.
   I needed to think, "I guess we use psycho-affection in lieu of real
profiles." Headslap, full stop.
   "What?"
   "Fucking power-assertive!" Right, but if you know what you are, you can
hide it.  "Talk about emotional release, I wonder how long he's been
holding that one in." Until he could drop it, in public, in front of 2
people I could grudgingly respect.
   "I'm not really misophobic."
   "Huh?" My turn to shake my head.  On second thought, I took off my
glasses, and rubbed my eyes, it was a long drive.
   He giggled again, "I'm not a latex fetishist, either, but I do kind of
like the way it feels.  I first affected it for Sarah, because she just
went through a lot of trauma, and I didn't think she was ready for sex.  I
managed to hold her off for like, a week and a half, then we did this scene
with Bob."
   "Who?"
   "Some cameraman guy.  I helped him set up the Substation, and we worked
on a couple other projects together.  He owed me a favor, so we did this
whole reassurance scene together, then fucked like tweekers when he left,
burned through a box of rubbers.  So, anyway, I think that's how she got
over her Meth addiction."
   "Wait, back up." I stopped him, "That Bob guy, he's the 'Shooter'?" He
nodded, "I thought that was you, well first I thought you were Virgil like
almost a year before he went back to kidnap Stacey, but."
   "The Verge!" kinda creepy giggle, "Yeah, he came down from Lansing, that
was his video.  I talked Sarah into doing it, I'm also a bit passive
aggressive, but he agreed to do it, because it gave him a victim to
practice on." I just took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly to
calm down.  "I really didn't know how bad he was, either of them.  I
thought they were more like Brad."
   "Who the fuck's Brad?"
   "Just some bisexual guy I know, he cameoed in the Substation." He
sighed, "I get it, you're trying to put it all together, and I guess I'm
the one who knows most of it.  Sarah, she's more Intuitive, impulsive, she
improvises well, but she's not real organized."
   "So you manipulated her?"
   "I helped her, get over what had been done to her." He rationalized, "I
felt guilty for helping to set it up."
   "So you're not a sociopath?" How?
   "No," he laughed, "I just play one online."
   He pulled in behind our car, and walked around to open the gate.  Nice
privacy fence, I looked around, and saw why the doors were set-up that way.
Maury flicked off his cigarette, and asked.  "You mind?"
   "Not at all," Dell surprised me, again.
   I shrugged, "Knock yourself out." He flashed his badge.
   "Fucking cop!" fuck she was fast!  He caught her hand, grabbed her by
the throat, and forced her up against the wall.  The awl clattered to the
ground, so he let her claw at his arms, and reached down to turn the knob.
She kicked up between his legs, and twisted, but he grinned, and grabbed
her arm again.  "Bring the spike," he turned over his shoulder, and
disappeared into the den.
   "Grab your cameras," I looked over to see him pushing a pair of
Cybershades (f) up his nose, and picked up the awl.
   "I'm really a voyeur at heart," he giggled, and rubbed his hands
together.
   For the first time in my life, I thought I was in love.  
  
Coming Together