Antagonists

To say that things weren’t going well for him was a gross understatement. He didn’t care for watching or listening to the news because it always served to depress or anger him. Had he watched the news over the last couple of days, he would have known, at the very least, that the biggest rain storm the area had seen in years had arrived. He also would not be walking on his way home from the grocery store, getting soaked to the core.

The somewhat lanky African-American was wearing a white polo shirt, a pair of black denim jeans with a braided leather belt (complete with brass belt buckle). Rounding out the ensemble was a pair of black steel-toed boots, and a thick black leather jacket. Dark chocolate-hued skin was outlined with an eighth-inch fuzz of hair; a wide nose was set between a pair of deep brown eyes; a thin dark top lip was slightly tucked into a full, pink bottom lip; small, child-sized ears connected with a clearly defined jaw, muscles tensing and relaxing repeatedly as black eyebrows attempted to meet at a congregation of wrinkles above his nose. A double-paper bagged assortment of groceries was being held tightly against his chest as his mind raced over various incidents that he’d recently endured; none of those incidents being of the pleasant variety.

The left side of his mouth curled upward as he thought back to an incident that recently occurred while he was at work. He was in the middle of trying to train a new member of his team when his authority was challenged. He’d been in the process of scheduling that new employee’s first week of further training, only to be interrupted by a member of his supervisory crew. That supervisor invited the new employee to join the rest of the team that was unscheduled for a social outing, ignoring the fact that he was overstepping his boundaries and breaking the chain of authority. The mental image of the tall, goofy-looking redhead inspired the gritting of teeth and a quick rolling back of the eyes. For an instant, the image of that redhead getting kicked squarely in the jaw flashed through his mind, accompanied by a near-blinding flash and a resounding “BOOM!”

Cold rain flowed off the top of his bald head, down his face and the back of his neck, soaked the collar of his polo and diffused to the dryer areas, making him shiver in the process. So caught up in his own thoughts, he was completely unaware that he was being followed; had been followed for a while now. He wasn’t very far from home, crossing the street into an alley, teeth clenched, arms tightening on his groceries as his eyes took on a reddish tent, fueled by the growing heat his body was radiating and the stinging rain flowing from the top of his head. He was oblivious to the fact that a shadowy figure had been encroaching on his personal space, his guard causing him to completely break character and ignore his environment.

His stalker grinned underneath her mask, reached into her right jacket pocket and firmly gripped the pistol that made its present home there. She’d seen him at the grocery store, noticed how aloof he’d been and decided that he’d be a welcome target. His billfold was quite full as he fumbled around with it when trying to pay for his items. He thanked the cashier once he was handed the receipt, fumbled to get it into his jacket pocket and walked out the door, head down, seemingly in his own little world. He was exactly the type of target that she was looking for. She’d already sized him up. He was taller than she was by a couple of inches, appeared to weigh somewhere in the two hundred pound range. Her Jiu-Jitsu training would help her deal with the size differential. Not that she believed that she’d need it, since she carried an “insurance policy” with her. Given the nature of the items that he had collected, it was clear that he was, at the very least, living alone. There were a few microwave meals as well as items that could be popped into a toaster for quick “preparation.” A package of meat, a few cans of soup and a container of salt rounded out the contents of the bag. The cans could possibly be used as weapons, but if she timed it just right, his groceries would be completely ignored. As he walked further into the alley, she saw her opportunity, caressed her gun and quickened her pace. It was time.

His teeth chattered as a long breeze blew over him. He hated the feel of wet denim as it stuck to his thighs, grimaced at the increased weight of his clothes as he tried to avoid stepping in a growing pool of muddy water making its home in a pothole. Garbage-filled water swirled its way down a manhole a few feet in front of him as the rain continued to pelt him. His thoughts continued to be on work and the struggles that were now over, thanks to his release from the company earlier that day. The official reason for his ouster was unknown to him. His supervisor had been evasive in answering his questions, refused to level with him in regards to the situation. That, in and of itself, was reason enough to spit to his right. He sniffled hard, the combination of rain and wind caused his sinuses to become congested, caused his nose to attempt to run. He felt betrayed and it hurt him to the core of his being. He’d never been fired from any position that he’d held before today, and he struggled to understand why things went as badly as they had. Head held low, eyes on the ground and the sound of the rain drumming on his head totally drowned out the sound of his would-be attacker quickly closing in on him from behind.

“Drop the bag and put your hands up!”

The sound of the muffled voice jolted him back to the present. Without thinking, he spun around to his left to face the owner of the voice. What he saw was a pair of green eyes focused on him through a black ski mask, a full-length black duster barely covering a pair of black running shoes, and lastly, a leather-clad right hand holding a gun pointed right at his chest. His jaw dropped slightly as he held the bag closer to his chest, mind devoid of any images whatsoever.

“I SAID DROP THE FUCKING BAG AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!”

Her eyes locked on his for an instant. She could see that he was thoroughly confused and the gravity of his situation hadn’t begun to register yet. Not exactly where she wanted him, but it did put him into a position where she could press her advantage. After all, she was a professional.

“Look… I’m havin’ a REALLY bad day. All I wanna do is get out of this rain and chill…”

He turned around and took a step away from her.

“DROP THE BAG, YOU FUCKER… AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP… NOW!”

He slowly turned around to face her, his eyes narrowed. He looked her squarely in the face, adjusted his bag of groceries so that it was being haphazardly held within the crook of his left arm, stood so that his body completely faced hers. She hadn’t expected that he’d challenge her, given that he was looking down the barrel of a gun. As she looked into his eyes, she didn’t see fear, but exasperation. He wasn’t taking her threat seriously. She smirked underneath the mask, thought to herself, “well, now. We’ll just have to change that, won’t we?” As she watched him, she couldn’t help but notice that his legs began to move as if he was about to make a run for it. She knew that she needed to make him stay put. If he ran, she would probably lose her opportunity.

“Look… I’m nobody of consequence…”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, DROP THE DAMN BAG AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!”

He looked her straight in the eye, then walked toward her. She aimed for his left arm and pulled the trigger. Through the smoke, she watched as he flinched, then dropped his bag of groceries. His jaw dropped as he looked to his left, his right arm rose, his right hand clutched his left shoulder. His big, brown eyes got wide as his head turned in her direction, a shocked expression on his face. For an instant, the expression on his face reminded her of a lost child. His mouth closed, then his lips pulled back, revealing clenched teeth. His eyes, filled with shock seconds ago began to change. They rolled back into his head, closed, opened again, revealing nothing but the whites of his eyes. Those brown pupils slowly slid back into view, surrounded by a deepening red. The brow furrowed deeply as the shoulders seemed to become broader. She could hear a low growl building inside him as he lowered his center of gravity: hands became claws, knees bent slightly, back became hunched, arms were extended, head was lowered, an animalistic grin made its presence known. As she continued to look into his eyes, she noticed an unexpected, sinister change in his demeanor. Something wasn’t right.

As she lowered the gun, her heart rate quickened. She began to squeeze the trigger, only to see a black blur race toward her. The growl that she heard was transforming into a primal roar as she first felt an incredibly strong vice grip her wrist, then twist her arm, nearly ripping her elbow out of the socket. The gun fell to the ground and discharged as she felt another incredibly strong, icy vice grab her by the throat and begin to tighten. Horrified, she looked right onto the gleaming white teeth of her would-be assailant. He raised his right hand slightly, forcing her to look him straight in the eyes. There was a wildness there, fueled by rage. Her mind raced as she struggled to rely on instinct.

She attempted to adjust her weight by lowering her own center of gravity so that she could throw him, but he released his hold on her throat and her wrist, let her fall onto her back and roll so that she was on her knees on the ground. She looked straight ahead, expecting that he’d still be standing before her, only to realize that she had no such luck. Before she could think about her next move, she felt that vice-like grip on her right wrist at the same time that she felt pressure underneath her right arm. Her right arm rose and she felt pressure against both sides of her neck. She felt the bones of his forearms dig into both sides of her neck, felt him adjust his weight so that they both fell toward the ground, felt him wrap his legs around her abdomen and begin to squeeze. She attempted to scream, felt her neck get yanked at an awkward angle toward her left, then felt herself beginning to approach unconsciousness. She tried to reach for something, anything to use as a weapon to release his hold on her. She struggled to breathe as she felt the impending and unwelcome slumber overtaking her. She tried to claw his left arm, but to no avail. She fought to breathe, fought to stay conscious, but the encroaching blackness continued to fill her vision. It seemed an eternity before she succumbed, the last thing that she heard was a soulless chuckle as the blackness and silence drowned her.


She awoke with a start, having been doused in ice-cold water. She tried to assess where she was, could not, thanks to a blinding light that made her head throb. She felt a tingling sensation in her hands and feet, began wriggling, only to realize that she could not move her arms or her legs. Her mind raced, trying to focus and remember what had gone on.

Her breath got caught in her throat as her memory clicked into gear. Things had not gone anywhere near the way she’d anticipated. He was not supposed to resist, nor had she planned on shooting at him. His reaction to the gunshot was totally off the page altogether. Her head throbbed, the after-effects of having been knocked unconscious. Who knows what else he’d done to her while she was out. She lifted her head, resulting in a flash of whiteness from the increased intensity of her headache. Tears came to her eyes as her heart began to race. As she looked down toward her feet, she noticed that she’d been stripped down to her red lace bra and matching bikini briefs.

She let out a yelp, her heart racing furiously when a bald head suddenly appeared at the foot of the bed. Those big, brown, bloodshot eyes bored a hole into her for a few moments before the lower portion of the head appeared. Broad nose, nostrils flaring, were the predominant feature that she noticed before the bared teeth appeared. He stood to his full height, eyes never closing to blink, a low rumble coming from his throat with each breath that he took.

He was topless at this point, save for a large bandage that was on his left shoulder. Those unblinking eyes stayed locked on her as he raised his hands, producing a rather large serrated-edged knife. His mouth curled into a sinister grin after he’d licked his upper left canine.

Her mind raced, she broke into a cold sweat as she sucked in as much air as possible and held it. He deliberately began walking from the foot of the bed, lovingly brandishing the knife, never taking his eyes off her. When he got far enough to the side of the bed to be at her knees, he caressed the knife with his eyes, held it so that the tip of the blade faced downward, dropped it on the bed beside her. She flinched as he did so. The blade itself became buried about midway in the mattress. He laughed as she closed her eyes, trembling. His laughter sounded mirthless. It seemed that it was more for the sound that it produced, rather than because watching her react to what he was doing to her was humoring him.

He plopped his ass down on the bed beside her, looking straight ahead of himself rather than at her for the first time since she’d noticed that he was there. Without looking, he pulled the knife out of the mattress with his right hand, placed the handle into his left and slid the flat of the blade across his right palm.

“You had a chance to avoid all of this.” His voice sounded like he was trying to contain some unseen beast within him. “You had a chance to go on ‘bout yo’ business and not have to worry about what I could do to you. All you had to do was listen to me… But that just ISN’T what you’re about, is it?” He turned to look at her once again, leaning all of his weight on his left fist, the ice-like cold of the dull side of the blade grazing against her right hip.

He leaned closer to her. She could feel his hot breath against her neck, alternating cool with his inhalations. She spied the bloodstain on the bandage on his shoulder, tried to think of some way to free herself of this predicament. It wasn’t going to be easy, if it were going to happen at all. He’d used extension cords to tie her down, wrapped them as tightly as he could get them. Circulation in her hands and feet was being severely restricted. He’d tied her up in such a way that her legs were spread, her arms over her head and secured to the metal banister serving as its headboard.

“I’d ask you what you have to say for yourself, but it wouldn’t do me any good.” He smirked, holding the blade in front of her face, allowing her to see her own distorted reflection staring back at her with fearful eyes. He took the point of the blade, placed it just above her navel. She tried her hardest not to flinch when she felt the cold steel make contact with her skin. He traced an imaginary line up from her navel, in between her breasts, painstakingly slow as he watched her eyes widen in horror. He slid the point of the blade underneath her bra, violently yanked the knife toward the ceiling, ripping at the lace. She shut her eyes as tightly as possible, held her breath, waiting for what was to happen next.

Nothing but that damned laugh once again.

When she opened her eyes, she was focused on the distorted reflection of her eyes staring back at her.

“I could slit your fuckin’ throat. Leave you here for dead. But this is WAY more fun, isn’t it?”

He took the knife, held it menacingly over her face before moving down her body. With a grin, he held the blade over her left knee.

“You might wanna be still. I don’t think that you’d like it very much if I should happen to slip.”

He placed the blade just above her knee, looking from the blade to her face and back again. He took his time sliding the blade up her thigh, to her hip, sliding the blade beneath her bikini. He slowly slid more of the blade’s length, cutting the thin material in the process. He then ripped the knife away from her skin, the force of the material causing her body to move along with it.

“Now, I’m the curious sort. I’m wondering how it is that you chose me to be your target? I’m wondering what made you think that I’d be your perfect little victim?”

He took the blade, looked at it lovingly then examined his handiwork, admiring her breasts that now lay exposed to him. He took the blade and laid it flat against her left nipple, pressing the blade into her flesh.

“I could scar you for life… Leave you unrecognizable to the rest of the world.”

He palmed her right breast with his left hand, pressed it against her.