Deadly Connections (3/25)
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vigorliTitle: Deadly Connections (3/25)
Authors: Alex ( rangergirl0301@gmail.com ) and Carol (ambrelin2@yahoo.com)
Rating: PG – NC17 (PG this chapter)
Characters: Viggo/ Orlando/ Sean B/Various others
Beta: The wonderful Namarie120, whom we would be totally lost without
Disclaimer: We know no one in or associated with this. It is purely fiction. No harm intended.
Warnings: AU, Minor character death, Violence, M/M sex,
A/N: A large thanks to our artists-Cat (dreamerswings42) for the icon, and both Cat (dreamerswings42) and Tina (belil_gaviel) for the lovely banners
Summary: There's a killer of young men on the loose. It's up to Sean to find him. But things are not quite what they seem.
As Detective Bean was talking to Elijah, the sketch artist, at the station, the subject of his search was just waking up in his dingy little house. Stretching and swinging his legs to the side of the bed, he reached for his cigarettes, lighting one and sucking in a lungful smoke. As he rose and headed for the bathroom, his mind wandered over the previous night. The anger before and during the attack, and the pain and fear of the victim, made him ill. He finished emptying his bladder, dropping the cigarette into the toilet before flushing, and turned on the shower. Stepping under the hot spray, he tried to wash away the dirty feeling from seeing the young man die.
He rested his palms against the shower wall, leaning his body tiredly into the tiles and sighing softly. Sometimes he hated this part of his existence. The screams, the cries, the feeling of blood on his hands, a feeling he could never seem to clean away no matter how many times he tried. The smell was the worst; it haunted both his waking and dreaming hours, permeating his senses until all he knew was the stench of death.
Finally, the water now tepid and cooling rapidly, Viggo shut off the spray and grabbed a towel. Drying carefully, he ambled back to the bedroom and rummaged for some clean jeans and a shirt. Finally dressed, he headed to the kitchen for coffee and maybe food.
As he sat down, his mind wandered over the previous evening. He’d known this was the night something was going to happen. He had felt the tension and anger building for days. He could see the garish club, hear the loud noises again, even smell the sweat and smoke of the place. And the young man that was the target. Nice looking boy, but you could tell he was a hustler. The way he rubbed up against a person’s body, and finally the come-on. Didn't take long before they were leaving the building together. They walked the few blocks, and then he attacked. The boy put up a good struggle, better than the two before him, but he was no match for his companion.
Viggo had watched in horror as his mind saw the whole chain of events. He'd rushed to the sight, hoping he wasn't too late to save the young man. But by the time he got there, a crowd was already forming, and the killer was gone. He stayed to watch for awhile, but when the police started arriving, he'd left. That one policeman, he'd seen him before, and this time he looked like he recognized Viggo.
The policeman. He sighed again and looked out the window at the morning mist. There was something about him, something that Viggo couldn't quite put his finger on, and that made him curious. He seemed so guarded and rough on the outside, but Viggo could sense that there was more under the surface.
He reached out and touched the cool window pane as if to assure himself he was still in his own body, feeling the sick waves of satisfaction from the killer roll over him. He was very happy with himself today. The police had no idea who they were dealing with, and panic was slowly starting to wind itself around the gay community.
If he could only see the guy, what he looked like, or where he was at. Anything that would help him stop what was happening. But all he saw was a tall, thin, shadowy figure, and a deeper voice. Nothing more...yet.
Getting up and washing out his dishes, leaving them to drain, Viggo grabbed his jacket and cigarettes, stuffing them in the pocket, and heading out the door, locked it carefully behind him. Maybe if he wandered around the places he'd seen last night, he might pick up some residual vibes that would help.
He walked slowly down towards the beach, finding that the fresh air helped to clear his head just a little. His eyes followed the line of old, slightly broken-down houses without actually seeing them, his vision still clogged with the sights from the night before. The nightclub was only a few blocks from the beach; the killer seemed to be getting braver, choosing targets closer and closer to his chosen dumping grounds. Viggo eyed the steel door barring entrance during the day, and slowly walked around back, knowing such places often left windows open during the day to air it out a bit. He smiled grimly at the small frame he was presented with, probably leading into a bathroom, and heaved himself up, his form slipping with just a bit of trouble through the window.
He landed on the grimy floor of the bathroom, the stale smell assaulting his senses, and yet it was almost a relief as it cleaned out what was left from the murder. He slowly walked forward, slipping out into the club's main floor, the huge space seeming lonely without the bright laser lights, smoke, thudding music, and writhing bodies.
As he wandered through the darkened building, he suddenly started to shake. The energy wasn't strong yet, but he could feel them. Moving further on, he picked up more and more from both the men, until his whole body felt like it was vibrating. Finally, as he got closer to the door, he got it, the anger and hatred seeping back into his mind. The feelings were so strong he turned and bolted back to the men's room, crawling back out the window and into the fresher air. Staggering a few feet away, he collapsed onto the grass and dropped his head into his hands. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to do this alone. He needed someone to talk to, someone he could trust.
Slowly rising, Viggo made his way back to the street, and headed towards his own neighborhood. When he got home, he sat at the table, phone in hand and tried to remember the number for his old friend, Johnny. Finally getting the numbers right, he dialed, hoping his mentor was home.
"Hello, Viggo. What took you so long to call?"
Viggo smiled. Johnny knew. Johnny always knew. "I don't know. Just stupid I guess."
"Apparently. So what's been going on?"
Viggo exhaled slowly and started to tell Johnny about the last month or so, the dark feelings, the murky consciousness that kept slipping in and out of his own at the beginning before nearly consuming every minute of his life, the terror, the pain, and his frustration over not being able to do anything.
"I've told you before about the gift/curse aspect. You're very powerful, Viggo. I can give you some things that may help you, but...I get the feeling you don't actually want to block this guy, do you?"
Viggo took a deep breath, thinking about how to answer Johnny.
"No....no I don't. I need to find the guy, make him stop what he's doing. But there's more. I think the police have started to notice me. I've gotten to where he's killing them too late, so far, and there's already a crowd there. This last time a policeman seemed to watch me. I'm worried they'll start to think I'm involved. Hell, Johnny, I'm confused and I don't know what to do."
"Vig...whatever you do, you can't let the police think you're involved in this thing. It's too dangerous. Your lifestyle doesn't exactly invoke the best of images, you know."
Viggo chuckled and glanced around his small living space. "I don't need anything more than this, Johnny. What would I do with it?"
"Yes, yes, I know, but that's not my point and you know it."
"I know. I just...I want you to tell me what to do."
"You also know I can't do that. I have an idea, but you might not like it; it'll probably take more than one try, and it's dangerous. You say you keep showing up to these places late, after he's already killed. I suspect that you've been fighting these feelings somewhat, even if unconsciously, because it's terrifying to think about letting them take over. So, I suggest you stop fighting. Let them invade you as much as possible, focus on them, feel them, become them. And see where it leads you."
Viggo shuddered at the thought of letting this madman into his mind further than he already was. The things he'd seen and felt up until now were bad enough. What would it be like to submerge himself in the killer’s mind?
"I'll think about it, Johnny. I promise. Thanks for the ear and the advice. I'm beat, think I'm going to try and get some rest. I'll talk to you later; let you know what I decide."
"All right, Vig. But if you do decide to try this, I want to be there. Let me know.”
“I will Johnny. I will. Thanks.”
“So other than this…how have you been?”
“I…I’ve been better, but all right.”
“You still miss him, don’t you?”
“Every day. I know you never met him but I think…I’m sure you would have liked him. Well…the him I knew.”
“Perhaps. But if he could hurt you like that…I’m not sure I would have wanted to know him.”
“Yea.”
Johnny sighed softly, sensing the conversation was at its end. “All right, I need to go. Remember what we talked about. Hang in there. And get some rest, man."
Viggo hung up the phone and stubbed out his cigarette. Stretching, he headed into the dark bedroom, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the bed. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He'd have to worry about the discussion with Johnny another time.
Previous Chapters
Authors: Alex ( rangergirl0301@gmail.com ) and Carol (ambrelin2@yahoo.com)
Rating: PG – NC17 (PG this chapter)
Characters: Viggo/ Orlando/ Sean B/Various others
Beta: The wonderful Namarie120, whom we would be totally lost without
Disclaimer: We know no one in or associated with this. It is purely fiction. No harm intended.
Warnings: AU, Minor character death, Violence, M/M sex,
A/N: A large thanks to our artists-Cat (dreamerswings42) for the icon, and both Cat (dreamerswings42) and Tina (belil_gaviel) for the lovely banners
Summary: There's a killer of young men on the loose. It's up to Sean to find him. But things are not quite what they seem.
As Detective Bean was talking to Elijah, the sketch artist, at the station, the subject of his search was just waking up in his dingy little house. Stretching and swinging his legs to the side of the bed, he reached for his cigarettes, lighting one and sucking in a lungful smoke. As he rose and headed for the bathroom, his mind wandered over the previous night. The anger before and during the attack, and the pain and fear of the victim, made him ill. He finished emptying his bladder, dropping the cigarette into the toilet before flushing, and turned on the shower. Stepping under the hot spray, he tried to wash away the dirty feeling from seeing the young man die.
He rested his palms against the shower wall, leaning his body tiredly into the tiles and sighing softly. Sometimes he hated this part of his existence. The screams, the cries, the feeling of blood on his hands, a feeling he could never seem to clean away no matter how many times he tried. The smell was the worst; it haunted both his waking and dreaming hours, permeating his senses until all he knew was the stench of death.
Finally, the water now tepid and cooling rapidly, Viggo shut off the spray and grabbed a towel. Drying carefully, he ambled back to the bedroom and rummaged for some clean jeans and a shirt. Finally dressed, he headed to the kitchen for coffee and maybe food.
As he sat down, his mind wandered over the previous evening. He’d known this was the night something was going to happen. He had felt the tension and anger building for days. He could see the garish club, hear the loud noises again, even smell the sweat and smoke of the place. And the young man that was the target. Nice looking boy, but you could tell he was a hustler. The way he rubbed up against a person’s body, and finally the come-on. Didn't take long before they were leaving the building together. They walked the few blocks, and then he attacked. The boy put up a good struggle, better than the two before him, but he was no match for his companion.
Viggo had watched in horror as his mind saw the whole chain of events. He'd rushed to the sight, hoping he wasn't too late to save the young man. But by the time he got there, a crowd was already forming, and the killer was gone. He stayed to watch for awhile, but when the police started arriving, he'd left. That one policeman, he'd seen him before, and this time he looked like he recognized Viggo.
The policeman. He sighed again and looked out the window at the morning mist. There was something about him, something that Viggo couldn't quite put his finger on, and that made him curious. He seemed so guarded and rough on the outside, but Viggo could sense that there was more under the surface.
He reached out and touched the cool window pane as if to assure himself he was still in his own body, feeling the sick waves of satisfaction from the killer roll over him. He was very happy with himself today. The police had no idea who they were dealing with, and panic was slowly starting to wind itself around the gay community.
If he could only see the guy, what he looked like, or where he was at. Anything that would help him stop what was happening. But all he saw was a tall, thin, shadowy figure, and a deeper voice. Nothing more...yet.
Getting up and washing out his dishes, leaving them to drain, Viggo grabbed his jacket and cigarettes, stuffing them in the pocket, and heading out the door, locked it carefully behind him. Maybe if he wandered around the places he'd seen last night, he might pick up some residual vibes that would help.
He walked slowly down towards the beach, finding that the fresh air helped to clear his head just a little. His eyes followed the line of old, slightly broken-down houses without actually seeing them, his vision still clogged with the sights from the night before. The nightclub was only a few blocks from the beach; the killer seemed to be getting braver, choosing targets closer and closer to his chosen dumping grounds. Viggo eyed the steel door barring entrance during the day, and slowly walked around back, knowing such places often left windows open during the day to air it out a bit. He smiled grimly at the small frame he was presented with, probably leading into a bathroom, and heaved himself up, his form slipping with just a bit of trouble through the window.
He landed on the grimy floor of the bathroom, the stale smell assaulting his senses, and yet it was almost a relief as it cleaned out what was left from the murder. He slowly walked forward, slipping out into the club's main floor, the huge space seeming lonely without the bright laser lights, smoke, thudding music, and writhing bodies.
As he wandered through the darkened building, he suddenly started to shake. The energy wasn't strong yet, but he could feel them. Moving further on, he picked up more and more from both the men, until his whole body felt like it was vibrating. Finally, as he got closer to the door, he got it, the anger and hatred seeping back into his mind. The feelings were so strong he turned and bolted back to the men's room, crawling back out the window and into the fresher air. Staggering a few feet away, he collapsed onto the grass and dropped his head into his hands. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to do this alone. He needed someone to talk to, someone he could trust.
Slowly rising, Viggo made his way back to the street, and headed towards his own neighborhood. When he got home, he sat at the table, phone in hand and tried to remember the number for his old friend, Johnny. Finally getting the numbers right, he dialed, hoping his mentor was home.
"Hello, Viggo. What took you so long to call?"
Viggo smiled. Johnny knew. Johnny always knew. "I don't know. Just stupid I guess."
"Apparently. So what's been going on?"
Viggo exhaled slowly and started to tell Johnny about the last month or so, the dark feelings, the murky consciousness that kept slipping in and out of his own at the beginning before nearly consuming every minute of his life, the terror, the pain, and his frustration over not being able to do anything.
"I've told you before about the gift/curse aspect. You're very powerful, Viggo. I can give you some things that may help you, but...I get the feeling you don't actually want to block this guy, do you?"
Viggo took a deep breath, thinking about how to answer Johnny.
"No....no I don't. I need to find the guy, make him stop what he's doing. But there's more. I think the police have started to notice me. I've gotten to where he's killing them too late, so far, and there's already a crowd there. This last time a policeman seemed to watch me. I'm worried they'll start to think I'm involved. Hell, Johnny, I'm confused and I don't know what to do."
"Vig...whatever you do, you can't let the police think you're involved in this thing. It's too dangerous. Your lifestyle doesn't exactly invoke the best of images, you know."
Viggo chuckled and glanced around his small living space. "I don't need anything more than this, Johnny. What would I do with it?"
"Yes, yes, I know, but that's not my point and you know it."
"I know. I just...I want you to tell me what to do."
"You also know I can't do that. I have an idea, but you might not like it; it'll probably take more than one try, and it's dangerous. You say you keep showing up to these places late, after he's already killed. I suspect that you've been fighting these feelings somewhat, even if unconsciously, because it's terrifying to think about letting them take over. So, I suggest you stop fighting. Let them invade you as much as possible, focus on them, feel them, become them. And see where it leads you."
Viggo shuddered at the thought of letting this madman into his mind further than he already was. The things he'd seen and felt up until now were bad enough. What would it be like to submerge himself in the killer’s mind?
"I'll think about it, Johnny. I promise. Thanks for the ear and the advice. I'm beat, think I'm going to try and get some rest. I'll talk to you later; let you know what I decide."
"All right, Vig. But if you do decide to try this, I want to be there. Let me know.”
“I will Johnny. I will. Thanks.”
“So other than this…how have you been?”
“I…I’ve been better, but all right.”
“You still miss him, don’t you?”
“Every day. I know you never met him but I think…I’m sure you would have liked him. Well…the him I knew.”
“Perhaps. But if he could hurt you like that…I’m not sure I would have wanted to know him.”
“Yea.”
Johnny sighed softly, sensing the conversation was at its end. “All right, I need to go. Remember what we talked about. Hang in there. And get some rest, man."
Viggo hung up the phone and stubbed out his cigarette. Stretching, he headed into the dark bedroom, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the bed. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He'd have to worry about the discussion with Johnny another time.
Previous Chapters
