Out of the Blue by Fidelis

29 photos

 

 

 Gus let his hand rest lightly on his belt.   He didn’t think that he would even need to draw it, but you could never be sure with these punk gangbangers. There had been so many complaints from the new homeowners in this neighbourhood. They were buying up and refurbishing these old houses, and weren’t too happy when the punks broke in and started stealing both the old and valuable fixtures and leaded glass, as well as the new appliances that were going in. Gus had just seen a figure in a hoodie slip into this house – he was going to catch the little prick red-handed. Maybe that would get these rich assholes off the backs of the police. What did they expect? They were moving into a poor neighbourhood, gentrifying and kicking out the old inhabitants – there was bound to be trouble. But the law was the law – Gus wasn’t going to have a bunch of punks doing what they pleased on his beat.
  Gus pushed at the front door – it slowly swung open. Hmm, this wasn’t a good sign. He tightened the grip on his XXXX. Maybe he should have called for back up. Naw, he wasn’t a raw rookie, he would be OK.
"This is the police. You are on….UGGGGGHHHH!"
Gus fell to the floor stunned. Something heavy and hard had slammed down on the back of his neck. He lay on the floor, temporarily unable to move. He grunted as someone kicked him in the ribs.
"Well, what have we got here? A nosy cop, I see. I guess this isn’t your day, copper."
"UNNNHHHHHH!"
  Gus could only moan as his unknown assailant grabbed his belt and started dragging him across the filthy floor of the house. His right arm was totally without feeling – he tried to grab out with his left arm, but it was useless. He was being heaved about as if he was a sack of potatoes. He was pulled upright and his head slammed into something solid. Blackness descended as he slid to the floor, unconscious.
"UNNNGGGHNNOOOO!"
Gus shook his head. Whoever had been slapping his face had stopped. He tried to focus his eyes. For the moment, all that he could see was dusty floor, with a trail through the dust, as if something large and heavy had been dragged through the filth. It took him a moment to realize that he had been the object. He was on his knees, his legs in a very uncomfortable position beneath him. His hands were behind his back, something cold and metallic holding him in place against some sort of pole. Something nasty and sticky was covering his mouth.
  "How does our neighbour beat cop, feel? A helluva lot better than you’ll be feeling in a few minutes. I can assure you of that. "
"HMMMPH! GGMMWHOMMTHEHELLMMMU!"
"Me? You want to know who little innocent old me is? I’m the neighbourhood XXXX maker, you dumb cluck. And you’ve stumbled into my lab. It is might inconvenient – I wasn’t planning on moving for weeks. You’ve really screwed up my plans, copper. Lucky that I’ve just finished brewing a batch."
"MMMUBASHTARD! GGMMMGONNAMMROTINGGJAIL…UGGMGLUMP!"
  Greg’s gagged tirade was cut short.
"Jail? I don’t think so, copper. Who’s going to put me in jail? Not you, that’s for sure. Now, I could just blow your head off right now, but the sight of blood makes me fail faint. And it would be sooooo messy. No, I’ve got something much better in store for you."
Greg snarled through his gag and struggled against his cuffs, which were far too tight. They were already starting to cut off his circulation. If he could just reach his keys…
  "No, no, copper. You aren’t going anywhere. How stupid do you think I am? Do you think that I would leave the key to your cuff in easy reach? Here it is, and….here it goes."
Greg heard a tiny clink as his captor tossed the key into the rubble of the half-renovated house. Damn, this wasn’t good. What did this guy mean – what better thing did he have in store for him? Having his head blown off wouldn’t be a good thing, but…what could be worse then that? No head meant dead. Greg could feel sweat trickling down his rib cage. He didn’t have a good feeling about the situation that he was in. He didn’t have long to wait to find how dire his dilemma was.
" I was planning on using this when I left this dump – there is nothing like a nice explosion and fire to cover one’s tracks. You’re just forcing me to use it prematurely. Just let me pack up my things and then I’ll set it up. Don’t worry, you won’t have long to wait."
  "GGGMMMNNNOOOO! MUUCANTMMDOTHISM!"
Greg tried to lash out with his legs, which he had managed to straighten. He just missed his captor’s shins.
"You’re going to wish that you hadn’t done that, copper. Of course, you’re going to be blasted into bits in a very short period of time, but…you’ve just given an excuse to do this!"
"AAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH!"

 

Greg screamed in pain as the villain leaned over and grasped Greg’s groin with an incredibly strong hand. It felt as if a steel claw was crushing his nuts. Greg almost passed out with the pain. He could only watch through a blurry haze as his ankles and knees were taped up.
"There, no more kicking from the cop. Not that you have much more time to kick anyone. Let me see – half an hour should give me plenty of time to pack up and get out of here. It’s been nice knowing you officer – parting is such sweet sorrow and all of that crap, but I’ve got to get out of here, and you – why, bits of you should be scattered all over the neighbourhood in 30 minutes."
  Greg struggled to his feet. He throw himself forward, hoping that the support to which he was cuffed would break. No such luck. When they built these big old houses, they built them to last. The wood didn’t even creak. OK, time to move on to plan two. He had an extra key to his cuffs hidden about his person – you never knew when an extra key would come in handy. He had been in such a rush this morning that he hadn’t had time to put it in its usual hiding place, but he knew that he had it. He had stuffed it into his pocket – he hoped that it hadn’t fallen out when he was dragged across the floor.
  Darn, this wasn’t as easy as he had thought it would be. Greg strained his muscles, trying to get his rapidly numbing fingers into his pocket. He could just reach the inside of the pocket, but of course the key was at the bottom. Gingerly, he started pulling up the lining of the pocket with the tips of his fingers. He had to be careful; he didn’t want the key falling to the floor – if that happened he would be in really big trouble. Hmm, that was a dirty tissue – no good. Some change – no good. Ah, that felt like the key. Now if he could just get it out…Greg gave a sob of frustration as the key slipped back into his pocket. His fingers were getting both sweaty and numb. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he knew that he didn’t have long to free himself.
AHA! He had it! Now all he had to do was unlock the cuffs. He had had training in doing this very thing in the academy, but never with his hands almost completely numb, and never when cuffed to a pole! Oh yes, he almost had it. He was so close to freeing himself…he heard a tiny click and one cuff fell open.
  Greg tore frantically at the tape around his knees. His knife had disappeared from his duty belt; he had to use his bare hands to free himself. Damn, but this stuff was sticky and tough. He tore at it freeing first his knees and then his ankles. He started racing for the front door, not bothering to remove his gag. He was in no mood for chatting at the moment, and he had the horrible feeling that he didn’t have a moment to waste. He yanked the door open and stumbled onto the front steps. He heard a boom and then a whoosh as the force of the explosion blew him off the steps and into the shrubbery. Ha – the criminal had been foiled! Greg wasn’t in tiny little bits and he wasn’t going to rest until he had nailed the guy and made sure he spent the rest of his days rotting in jail.

 

THE END

 

Greg played by Chris
Photography by Caitiff

 

Date of Production: 07/19/2005

18 U.S.C. ยง 2257 Record Keeping Compliance Statement can be found by clicking here.
All material contained within this website is © 2024 boundguys.

UPDATES | MEMBERS | CONTACT | SUBSCRIBE