Geno | Holmes
Shots Fired
Wed Dec 21, 2005 10:47

“Alright, Daddy. I'd better get out there and do this before he objects again.”

John groaned, holding his head between his hands. All he had wanted to do was go take a look at the bastards that had beaten Sean so severely. That was all! But the Blues had decided to get a wild hair up their ass about this, their notions of family a skewed version of society’s view.

Not that he was complaining, mind you.

“See you later, alligator.” He wanted to glare at Janey; he really did, but couldn’t find it in his heart to shoot a dirty look at the girl. And she still was a girl in his mind. The little rug rat that sent him chasing after her because she darted off in a public place. Long ago he learned that she was capable of handling herself, but that didn’t stop from worrying him.

Exchanging a worried glance with Jeff, John resumed his groan and held his head.

Later on, he wasn’t groaning at all.

They had placed him in the shadows of an abandoned warehouse in Jersey, which was completely amusing on some levels. But while the boys – and they definitely weren’t boys – began to recover from the chloroform that Janey had misted them with, John studied their physical appearances.

There wasn’t anything particularly special about the hoodlums. Ranging from light hair to dark hair, slim to slightly built, they appeared to be any other sort of man you saw on the street during the day. Or the type that you saw at the local pub having chugging contests with a beer bong. His hands itched to wrench their heads off narrow shoulders, but he resisted valiantly. It would have been easier had Jeff and Jane were inside with him, but they hadn’t wanted Janey to be distracted. Now he saw why.

Never could he have imagined that the little girl he had tickling wars with had turned into such a… vixen! That’s the least of what Janey was now, in the skin tight black clothing. Taunting the boys that had been duct taped to whatever furniture was handy at the time. Her impromptu speech was well choreographed; the girl had learned well from her parents. But now things were about to become really fun.

“I want all three of you to meet someone. His name is Geno Castelluccio.” At Janey’s gesture, John stepped forward, suddenly pleased at the fact that he was larger than so many people. Most of the time he damned it, especially when it made him stick out in a crowd. Not now, especially when he saw the flare of fear in Don’s eyes. “This is Sean's boyfriend. And he really didn't appreciate what you did to the actor. So I'm going to go have some coffee and you four can get to know each other much, much better.” That sounded like a very good plan to him.

“John, one favor. Leave them alive.” He actually managed to frown at the girl before she sauntered away, and out the door. Frankly, he hadn’t expected the Blues to allow this to happen, figuring that the lot of them would slap around these three idiots and that would be the end of it. John was shocked that they were about to allow this to happen, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Stepping forward, the Italian cast a heavy glance across each man, pausing as if hoping to instill the fear of their life in them. It seemed to be working, with Don most of all, who still hadn’t stopped that gurgle of fear behind the duct tape sealing his mouth.

“Shh... Sia quiet, quello piccolo…” John murmured, knowing that the soothing whisper would hardly put the boy at ease. Instead of beating around the bush and delaying the inevitable, the large Italian began to speak in even and concise tones. “It took three of you to beat one man. Three.” Pausing, he meandered around the three chairs that they were bound to, giving a not-so-gentle tap against the face every so often to force their attention in his direction. “The damage that you did to him was extensive. Bruising, internal bleeding, a broken arm, and slashes from a knife were the least of it.

“I want you to understand exactly what you put him through.” Don didn’t get it at first, but one toward the end did, and began to scream behind the makeshift gag. “Shh…” John wasn’t feeling all to comforting at the moment, and when the boy wouldn’t shut up, he delivered a loose open-fit to the side of his face. Didn’t want any of them unconscious just yet.

The entire beating was systematic, but it took a while. After all, when you were attempting to inflict the same injuries these men had inflicted on your lover, precision was the key. And he didn’t want to be rash, not in the slightest. First, one side of the face was bruised, and John had to admit that it felt fantastic! Well, maybe not on their part, but he certainly reveled in the sensations.

Secondly was the various pummeling around the body’s midsection, which had resulted in a few broken ribs. John brought it to the next level, and made sure that they were laboriously breathing by the time he was done. Even with all his muscle mass, he was tiring too quickly, and took a break to sit down and leisurely sip from a bottle of water. Anything to heighten the terror that had to be feeling at this point in time. He’d do everything he could to make this a living nightmare for all three that would last the rest of their lives.

Next was the broken arm, which was a bit tricky with all the duct tape they were wrapped in. It made his aim with the lead pipe imperfect, and took a few extra tries to make sure he did it right. Except both arms were broken in this case. They wouldn’t be beating anyone any time soon. By the time John dropped the pipe, he was breathing as heavily as any of these idiots.

But when he brought out a wickedly curved knife, their muffled screams could be heard just outside the door.

John didn’t know how long he had taken, nor did he care. Instead of walking through the door with extreme satisfaction, he trudged through feeling empty and hollow inside. Blood had been liberally splattered across his clothing, though not in large amounts; after all, he had taken care not to hit an artery in any of them. Knuckles bruised and bloodied, he could only give the assembled Blues a blank look. He had done it, but that didn’t make him feel any better about it.

“I…” He wanted to go home. He wanted to see Sean. “I want to kill them,” John growled. It felt like he hadn’t done near enough damage to the men that had nearly killed his lover. He wanted more. So when he turned to give in to the wish, John was surprised at Mom taking him by the arm gently, leading him toward the car.

It was the perfect day for shopping!

All right, maybe not so perfect, as it was a bit chilly. But Moira could never resist a good fall fashion sale. Already she had hit up Macy’s and the accompanying outlet stores, before figuring that she should take a break and get a bit of lunch.

Strolling down the street with a sway in her walk that caused any red-blooded male’s head to turn, Moira figured on stopping at one of her favorite little cafés near Broadway, since it was fairly close. He never figured that someone she knew would be seated outside with… Oh my God! Quelling the squealing fan girl that resided in her, Moira opted not to interrupt Miss Marchand, and turned on the police officer with her instead.

“Sonnet, right?” Ah, she really was a pretty little thing. How had Devon managed to capture her attention?


“I’m Moira Holmes. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Extending her free hand, she hid a grin at the sudden shock that pranced merrily through the officer’s gaze. Just has their hands met, something that wasn’t so atypical occurred. A burglar alarm sounded from just down the street, and someone carrying a bag that tinkled like jewels sped past.

“Uh, duty calls. Tell Devon I said hi.” Moira blinked at the suddenness that Sonnet had bolted off in, obviously chasing down the man that was likely a robber. Staring off in the direction that the officer had run, a frown marred her brow in the form of eyebrows scrunching together. Damn, another missed opportunity.

“Where did my darling daughter run off to?” Oh! Backhanding the inner-fan girl that was squealing in an attempt to break free, Moira slowly turned to face a smiling Isabel Marchand.

“It appears she may have run off to foil a robbery.” Moira couldn’t help the amused little smile at her statement. “My brother Devon is the same way. He’ll take any opportunity to enforce the law if he’s in an uncomfortable situation.” The man had been making a concerted effort to right things with the family.

“Devon Holmes, you say? Mm… I remember that darling boy.” It seemed like Isabel did more than remember about him, judging by her tone of voice! Moira’s grin only widened at that. To have the Isabel Marchand on her brother’s ass… Oh, that was too good a mental picture to pass up! “Why don’t you and I find my errant daughter?”

“It would be a pleasure, Miss Marchand.” Oh, it definitely would.

“Isabel, darling. Just Isabel.”

Arms linked together, the pair had strolled off down the street in the direction that Sonnet had been running, idly wondering if they would be able to catch up to the officer at such a leisurely pace. Things took an odd turn when they saw a few spectators suddenly run off in another direction. Away from the street corner.

Blam! Blam! Blam!

Neither woman had to say a word. Tossing dignity out the window, each began to run down the street, rounding the corner in time to hear a volley of gunfire, and witness the jewelry thief falling backward into the street, body ruthlessly run over by one of a million Cadillacs in the tri-city area.

“Sonnet, darling. Oh my god. Someone call an ambulance.” Moira’s bags dropped to the ground as she witnessed the officer try to inspect her shoulder through the haze of pain, coming away with a hand covered in blood. Oh God!

“Mom, I need to lie down.”

Gasping as Sonnet crumpled to the pavement, Moira rushed to her side, helping Isabel as much as she could. The officer’s limbs were straightened out, and the shirt she wore as a cover for her chemise was ripped off, use as a compression tool. The sirens weren’t close enough, though, and the redhead took it upon herself to snatch up Sonnet’s radio. She had seen Devon use the thing a million times, it couldn’t be that hard.

“Officer down! We’re at the corner of…”

It was definitely never a dull day in the City.

Now there was something about a jewelry thief, which seemed far too old school, and almost laughable. But he was one of a half-dozen officers that had flipped on their lights, activated the siren, and sped down side streets to Tennyson’s location. The same woman that had avoided him for the last week! It was enough to drive him up a wall.

Eight blocks out, and another voice came over the radio, cutting through the chatter. A woman, sounding well-educated, blurting out, “Officer down!” She continued to rattle off the location, which made everyone press that much harder.

“Who the hell is this?!” the officer at dispatch demanded.

“Moira Holmes!” Why me?! “And you better get your sorry asses here because she’s bleeding all over me!” Devon suddenly felt sick at the thought of Tennyson being seriously injured.

Twenty minutes later, the ambulance was carting Sonnet away, leaving behind Isabel and Moira. Well, that pant suit was definitely ruined. “Come on, Moira…” Devon was murmuring, slinging an arm around the woman’s shoulders. Now he could feel her trembling. She was a spit-fire, but this was the aftermath. She didn’t have anyone to scream at. “We’ll get you cleaned up at the hospital.” You’re damn right he was going to have her checked out.

“Isabel?” He even offered an arm to the woman if she wanted it. “Let’s go see how Sonnet’s doing.” Devon didn’t even contemplate the fact that she could have died. Definitely not his Sonnet.

  • Over the rainbowMunchkins, Wed Dec 21 01:24
    Errands. What a polite euphemism for the chore about to commence. Janey sat in the front seat of her father's car, punching in the number of a cell phone. Jeff waited patiently in the driver's seat,... more
    • Shots Fired — Geno | Holmes, Wed Dec 21 10:47
      • Black Knight's WorkRobin, Fri Dec 23 00:39
        Dark deeds and secret matters, you can fix it but it doesn't last Bright flash, the mirror shatters, who's reflected in the broken glass? "Nobody knows the trouble I've been ... nobody knows my... more
        • Comforts and NewsCastelluccio | Holmes, Fri Dec 23 15:04
          “Here, sweetheart. Why don’t you take a shower? It’ll make you feel better.” John mindlessly accepted the large towel placed in his grasp by ‘Mom’, allowing himself to be steered toward the bathroom. ... more
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