Title: Unbroken Keywords: Mf, MF, MFf, Ff, violence, oral, anal, slow, romance, love. Summary: A hired killer finally realizes he can love, and be loved, in the arms of two extraordinary women. Words From Wrath's Child: I am trying a new format with this one. It seemed to work. The stories I scrapped before starting this one, I felt, were missing something I couldn't place. I think I hit the nail on the head this time. There are a lot of inner monologues in this story. They may seem confusing at first. But please, give it a try. I hope you'll find they make my protagonist much easier to relate to. Author's Note: As a new author, it means the world to me, to see that my words are able to touch others. To those who say they look forward to my new work, I beg your patience. I proofread, and edit my own work, so periodically, I am forced to stop, and read through each story, correcting, adding, subtracting, and expanding upon ideas. So please, be patient with me, as each work needs that effort, to take on the life I hope to breathe into it. For those who wish to give feedback to me, please, feel free to contact me via e-mail: master.twitch1@gmail.com. Constructive criticism, or even just a "Hey. Fuck You!" is always welcome. Addendum: I want to offer you all an apology. I know I had said this story was coming soon. Unfortunately writing is not my full time job, and bills still need to get paid. With an unexpected manpower shortage at work, I was forced to pick up a LOT of extra shifts, which unfortunately protracted my writing time line. But finally, I am proud to say it is done. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. Part One: Scars "Scars are proof that you are stronger than whatever it was that tried to kill you" - Anonymous I stood in the darkened alley, my black pea-coat pulled tightly around my large frame warding off the chill of a rainy November night. The forecast had called for sleet, and it had delivered. Fucking Upstate winters. I clenched my fists inside my pockets. The crackling of my knuckles reaching my ears even through the thick material of the pea-coat. I looked across Saratoga street at the imposing brick building I had been scouting for three days as I lit a cigarette. I grimaced, as the spark of my lighter caught the attention of one of the local hookers. She slid up to me, trying her best to make her heroin wasted body look appealing. Right up until she caught a look at my face. The pathetic excuse for a smile slid away, the cracked, wasted teeth disappearing behind her weathered lips. "Get lost whore" I growled at her, as I stepped slightly into the wan light of what had once been a decorative street lamp. The pitiful yellow light highlighting the spiderweb of scars that start just below my right eye, reaching up to disappear into my dark brown hair. "I got nothing you want. And you sure as shit got nothing I want." I flicked my butt to the wet pavement, as I stepped back into the shadows. The dried up skank blanched at the venom in my voice, and quickly left me to my own devices. I had to smile at her reaction. It wasn't unusual, and had come to be expected from the people who approached me. My name is Mason Griggs, and anyone who knows me will tell you, I am a Monster. The irony of course is, monsters like me, we're not born. We are created. The sleet continued to drizzle down, frosting over on my Boston Spoon, as I let my mind drift back. My fists clenched hard inside my pockets, as the unwanted memories once again assaulted me. I was born on June twenty-fifth, 1988. I like to think that Amanda, my crack addict teenage mom might have actually loved me. For all of the first two days of my life at least. But by the time we got out of the hospital, her first, and only love, crack, was all she could think about. Thankfully I can't remember the first few years of my life. Knowing what it was like growing up, moving from one flea bag motel to another. Crashing in a crack shack, wearing the same clothes for weeks at a time, filthy, and unwashed. Being forced to hide in a closet, or even under the bed, as Amanda turned tricks in order to buy herself her next hit off the stem. That was all enough to turn my stomach, if I could remember what it was like as an infant, discarded in a pile of dirty clothes, while she sucked some John's cock, I might not even be able to summon the tiny modicum of remorse I can manage for her. My eyes squeezed shut against the pain that threatened to crash over me, as those memories continued to come. I was six when Amanda hooked up with Marius. The beatings started almost as soon as we had unpacked the trash bags that carried everything we owned. Amanda never seemed to mind, so long as Marius kept letting her suck that glass dick of hers. He almost seemed to be happy that he got to beat me like I owed him money. I recalled my bedroom door creaking open in the dead of the night, Marius' shadow being cast over the grubby mattress on the floor that passed for my bed... NO! I snapped my eyes open to dispel the inescapable conclusion of those memories. The hot flush of hate and pain that spread through the pit of my stomach. This was what I needed. I needed to feed off of those emotions. I needed that hate. I had to feel that raw, unhealed pain. Across Saratoga street, in that brick building, a Monster was about to be unleashed. I knew Gregor Dolenekov was going to be in that building. I knew he was responsible for the recent glut of heroin flooding the Hudson River corridor. I knew he was one of the major players in the human trafficking rings into the Eastern Seaboard. And I knew he had a taste for little boys that brought him here once every couple of months. Every time one of his cargo ships made port in Albany, he came here, where a new batch of his favorite little playthings were waiting for him. This was the only time, I knew I would have him almost entirely alone. After all, this wasn't exactly the kind of activity an underboss in the Russian Mob could explain away. My wait was not long tonight. The black Lincoln Navigator rounded the corner slowly, it's hyper bright headlights missing me in the deep shadows of my alley. Two men climbed out of the back. The first was tall, but broad in the shoulders. The off the rack cut of his sports coat told me right away, he was carrying a gun. The second, was short, and balding. His gut expanded past the ability of his suit jacket to cover it. Even from thirty feet away, I could see the intense, hungry look plastered across his bloated, sweaty face. I let the Monster slip his chains... The SUV's driver didn't even see me approach. A solid backfist with my K-Bar and the window by his ear blew out. A split second later seven inches of cold forged steel passed through his neck. A violent jerk of my right arm severing the carotid, and jugular, and slicing cleanly through the tough tissue of his trachea. He was dead before his eyes had time to even register my face. I leaned him over the center console, no need to chance him slipping forward and leaning on the horn. Gregor didn't need to know I was coming. I knew the entrance had surveillance cameras, and a solid steel door bar lock. But only a fool would try the front door. I might be a Monster. But I am no fool. I looped around the block, and came up to the back of the building. My scouting had shown me a dilapidated fire escape that I knew would support my weight. At two hundred forty pounds, I'd had to test its strength already. The second floor window was my best option. The plywood covering it had warped over the years since it had been installed, and the screws holding it had partially torn loose of the frame years ago. It hadn't taken much to create an entrance without being obvious about it. I knew Gregor would spend the better part of the night enjoying his twisted lusts. Like a spoiled, petulant child, Gregor very much enjoyed breaking his toys. I shouldn't have been shocked by what I found on the third floor. But the sight of a six foot three inch, two hundred pound, bodyguard jerking his four inch pecker to his fat boss fucking a six year old boy while he's tied down to a coffee table wasn't really what I had in mind when I climbed the steps. It didn't really matter, the Monster roared inside my head, and my arm wrapped around his throat, half a second before my K-Bar slammed down between his ribs, shredding his heart and lung. He was dead before I silently lowered him to the floor. Gregor was too wrapped up in his own pleasure, his pasty, sweaty ass pumping up and down over the whimpering boy, to notice me. Snatching the half empty bottle of vodka off the floor, I slammed it into the side of his head with a hollow thunk. Most people don't realize the amount of force it takes to break a bottle of booze. Grinning ruefully, I rubbed the scars on my face. I knew how hard it is to break one, after all, I had survived it. In the time it took me to tie Gregor up, the boy he had been raping went silent. I could tell, both by his glazed eyes, and the pool of blood spreading from his lower body that he was likely dead. The small part of me that the Monster had not devoured, felt a twinge of sadness for him. I knew he had deserved so much better out of his short life. But the Monster, the cold beast that I had been forced to become, knew better. The Monster knew that the boy was better off not surviving what he had just endured. The Monster knew that the taint of what Gregor had just done would never, COULD never, be washed clean. The Monster knew only two things. Hate. And Rage. And those were the only things I needed to survive. Feed the Monster, and I would never have to worry about the pain my memories tried to inflict upon me. I leaned Gregor's pasty, naked body against the wall, and slapped him until he started coming around. My orders were very clear. He was supposed to KNOW he was about to die. And I was supposed to have PROOF he knew. I set my phone on video record, and began speaking. "Gregor..." I growled maliciously, as his eyes tried to focus on me. "You've been a bad boy Gregor. And you've made some very powerful people, VERY angry with you." I smiled as I drew the sharp edge of my K-Bar across his cheek. A thin trickle of blood running down his face. "You've ruined more lives than even YOU can count," I snarled, as I grabbed his jaw and forced his gaze to the lifeless little boy on the table behind me. "And you've killed more children than you can remember, just so you can have a few moments of pleasure!" My hand released his face, and shot down, clamping like iron on his flaccid cock, and balls. Gregor's groan of pain quickly turned into a loud, high pitched squeal as my hand tightened inexorably on his blood stained crotch. The squeal turned to shrieks of terror as I started sawing with my K-Bar. It didn't take long, and with a violent shove, I silenced the pathetic fuck, by jamming his own severed equipment into his mouth. "Gregor, you know you deserve this as much as I do." I said, as I smiled at his agonized expression. I grabbed a hank of his thinning hair, and leaned his face close to my phone. "I'm going to enjoy this even more than you enjoyed your last little toy." The Monster roared in ecstasy as I drove my K-Bar down at the base of his skull. The blade slid effortlessly through the crease beneath his skull. He died before his brain could even send the message to the rest of his body. The Monster screamed in triumph, as Gregor's body slumped to the floor. I was three blocks up, and two over, by the time I heard the sirens of the Cohoes police screaming there way down Saratoga. I smiled as I heard them, knowing they'd never even look for a killer that brutal, on foot, in the rain and sleet of an Upstate winter. A quick swipe on my prepaid cell phone, and the video of Gregor's death was sent to Merlin. Less than two minutes later my phone chirped and buzzed in my pocket. "Merlin," I said, trying to modulate my voice. I knew Merlin was uncomfortable with how my voice sounded. Normally It was harsh, and had a gravelly undertone. The few occasions we had met in person, she had recoiled every time I spoke. "Nice work Mason," Her tone clearly spoke of my failure to sound pleasant, "The remainder of the funds have been deposited into your accounts, per your instructions." Her voice had a tone I couldn't place in it. She always seemed to sound slightly hesitant, and yet expectant. In the four years she's been my handler, I'd never been able to get a complete read on her. It was something that should have bothered me. But for some reason, it never did. "Should we keep you on open? Or are you finally ready to call it in, and take some time?" Her question kind of caught me off guard, but one of my few talents in this life, was my ability to roll with the unexpected. "No. Keep me on open. I'll be available as always Merlin." I heard a distant sigh, I could practically feel her disappointment through the phone. I flinched as the memories the feeling dredged up tried to overwhelm me. Even now, fifteen years in the grave, Amanda's disappointed scowl, could nearly reduce me back to a crying little boy, desperate for his mother's love and understanding. "You're going to need to decompress sometime Mason..." Was that worry I heard in her voice? Nah, Merlin was just like me. Cold, and hard. She moved people like chessmen, assessing strengths and weaknesses. She sewed death with the precision of a maestro. Worry was not in her range. "Keep me on open Merlin." With a shrug, I flicked off my phone. It was a mechanical, second nature move, as I started dismantling the phone. Battery tossed into a curb side dumpster. Sim card stashed in my pocket for destruction later. Merlin would have a new phone shipped to me in the next few days, as always. *** I pulled up to the curb a half hour later. Home. A cold grin split my face at the irony of that thought. My "home" was nothing more than a four room basement, that I rented from an Armenian named Yaromir. He owned half of Lansingburgh, and he still threatened to break my thumbs if I missed my rent. My apartment was never much more to me than a place to be out of the elements. My furniture was sparse, and second hand. My bed was simply a full sized mattress and box spring on the floor. One of the only lessons I ever learned from Amanda was, that I didn't need luxury to live. I sat in the dark living room of my apartment. The silence enveloped me, wrapping me in its seductive embrace. This was the dangerous time. The Monster had been placated. The hate, and rage had been played out. And inside me, all that was left was the vast wasteland of pain, and unwanted memories. Unbidden, and unchecked those memories slammed into me like a wave breaking against a cliff. I was seven. I heard the door to my bedroom creak open. The light from the kitchen casting Marius' shadow across my bed. Marius kneeling at the foot of my bed. His hands roughly exploring my young body. Marius' breath, fetid and rank, hissing next to my face. Pain. Fear. Terror. Undiluted, and pure, as I felt Marius force his way inside of me. My head rocked back into my chair, slamming my back into it with enough force to move the chair several inches across the floor. I was eight, begging Amanda to make Marius stop. As she laughed, and called me a little fagboy. Crying silently as she used her hot stem to burn rings onto my skin. The scars, faded, and now partially hidden by tattoos, still decorate my body. My fists clenched hard enough for the knuckles to pop, the echoes bouncing off of the walls, and bringing with them a new stream of torment. I was eleven. I had apparently outgrown Marius' preferences. But not the attention of some of his customers. They seemed to have a desire for something younger than the wasted husk Amanda had become. It was here that I learned to embrace the pain. To let the hate feed me. It was then that the Monster was born. The chair was forgotten. I couldn't even recall how I got there, but I was curled up in the fetal position on my living room floor. As the tears threatened to burst loose. I was fourteen. I was growing. Living in the slums of Poughkeepsi New York had turned me hard. My rage, and complete lack of empathy, made me feared. My ability to absorb pain made me respected. And both Marius, and Amanda, knew there was nothing left for them to control me with. I don't remember what sparked the fight. All I remember is shouting. Pushing. And suddenly the bottle of whiskey exploding against my face. Marius standing over me, the broken bottle in his hand. I convulsed on my living room floor, a primal scream torn from deep inside of me. I stood over Marius' body. The side of his head crushed. The edge of his tri-weight scale creasing his scalp, as blood flowed from his nose and ears. The jagged wounds on my face sheeting blood down to soak into my shirt. Amanda hiding in the corner, her scarecrow arms covering her desiccated body. She whimpered like a kicked puppy as she looked at the Monster. She made this Monster. It was now her burden to bare. My hands wrapped around her throat. Squeezing. Tightening. Amanda struggling, clawing at my face. Her head slamming against the floor. Again. And again. Amanda still, quiet. The glazed eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. A ragged gasp pulled air into my lungs. The memories began to recede. The pain becoming my usual background noise. Get up Mason. You survived. You are stronger than they were! The Monster always knew how to keep me going. It always knew. It was always there. Protecting what little piece of me was left inside. Devouring the pain. Keeping me safe. Keeping itself strong. Always ready to unleash itself when Mason wasn't strong enough to do what needed to be done. The Monster made me a survivor. Part Two: Crucible "I was so full of hate, that there was no room in me for such feelings as love, pity, kindness, or decency" - Carl Panzram My phone chirped. Flicking it on, I answered. "Merlin." There was an honest smile on my face, and it must have been conveyed through my voice. Honestly, I WAS happy to hear from Merlin. Time without work, was time where my past was allowed to haunt me. And it had been two months since Gregor. "Glad to hear from me Mason?" There was an almost distinct hint of levity in her voice. I wasn't sure why, but every time we spoke she sounded almost happy. "I need to work Merlin. I'm not built to just sit here." The long pause on the other end of the line told me, for whatever reason, that that wasn't the answer she wanted to hear. "Well good news Mason," she said, finally breaking her silence. "We have a job for you in Gloucester Mass." I winced. Working in Massachusetts was the bane of my existence. Between the traveling distance, dealing with safe houses, and not to mention the overbearing and incurable curiosity, of the local populace. All of it made working in Massachusetts a fuckin nightmare. But the Northeast was my home. It was where I did my work. And so I took the job. "Send the file Merlin. I'll give you a timetable once I read it." The file arrived, via courier. It was pretty sparse. But Merlin was always good about providing the information her Technicians needed. Conner Caplain, was a money launderer for the Irish mob. Apparently he had been investigated multiple times over the last ten years. His activities had always appeared to just skirt the right side of legal. And so the drop in the bucket fines, and levies the government hit him with were all he'd ever gotten. Our contractor wanted him out for good. The damage to the Irish would be immediate, and catastrophic, since Conner handled the vast majority of their drug money. Rule number one when taking work outside of Upstate. Never drive your own car. A New York license plate, in Gloucester Mass, will always attract attention. Given the fact that our contractor wanted Caplain dealt with in as public a manner as possible, bringing a vehicle that would attract unwanted attention was out. The train it was. I hated the train, but at least I was working again. At least I finally got to feed the Monster. The Amtrak 3:05 from Albany was always a congested nightmare. Masses of people, so wrapped up in their own bullshit, that they were almost constitutionally incapable of even the basest form of politeness. I sat at the front of the train, back to the wall, and allowed myself to indulge in one of the few creature comforts I had. Music. I plugged my ear buds in and allowed the dulcet tones of the likes of Pantera, Mudvayne, and Slipknot, to wash over me. 'A long time ago I never knew myself. Then the memory of shame birthed its gift. No more the small one, the weak one, the frightened one. Running from beatings, deflating. I'm becoming more than a man, more than you ever were. Driven and burning to rise beyond Jesus' Phil Anselmo's voice blasted into me, the heavy riff of Dimebag Darryl's guitar carrying me back in time. The Monster was awakening. Hungry from its hibernation. Standing in front of the judge, who sat pale, in horrified silence. Staring in defiance as he struggled to meet the eyes of the Monster. The trial had been short. Marius' death, while justifiable, had been compounded by Amanda's murder. The court shrink had called me "One of the most psychologically damaged young men" he had ever evaluated. The fat little coward, sitting in judgment of the Monster, only saw what he wanted to see. The scars, the pain, the vast emptiness that filled me. They meant nothing to a man who never had to fight for his right to live. 'All I hear is human noise. You made your own fucking choice. I belong to only me. Silence for my revelry... I can only die over time. Filthy hands, stay away from mine. Every reason is a right to hate. Painful clutch. Death is fine, gimme mine. Only one of us walks away' Corey Taylor screaming his heart out brought the wave crashing back into me. The hospital wing of Dutchess County Jail's juvenile detention center was a bleak kind of place. A place I had come to know well in my five years there. This time I had, apparently, barely survived getting jumped in the pod. I bucked the strict hierarchy. The Monster, now awakened, would not be so easily tamed. The four of them had come at me intent on teaching me a lesson. They didn't seem to realize I had earned my PhD in violence at the hands of Marius. I squeezed my eyes shut behind my sunglasses. My mind's eye still deceives me, when I picture his face. That kind smile, that never seemed to reach his eyes. The cold efficiency of his stance. But laying there, strapped to a hospital bed, my left eye swollen shut. My nose and cheek broken. Unable to breathe properly due to broken ribs. He looked to me like the savior of man, as he leaned over my bed and said "Hello Mason. I've heard good things about you." 'In this hole. That is me. Left with a heart exhausted. What's my release? What sets me free? Do you pull me up just to push me down again? Peel me from the skin! Tear me from the rind! Does it make you happy now? Tear meat from the bone! Tear me from myself! Are you feeling happy?' Chad Gray's subtle melodics, stampeding into his churning screams. Catapulting my mind back to the years in The Foundry. Crawling back to my feet. Blood from my mouth dripping onto the gym mats of the training facility. My body shrieking at me in protest, while within me the Monster roared in defiance. If Marius had been an artist in the ways of violence, the instructors at The Foundry were the ancient masters. Their methods were brutal, and efficient. No mistake was ever tolerated without punishment. And the Monster fed off of it all. Its guidance always there. Always the same. Get up Mason. You're stronger than they are! 'Possessed! I feel a conquering will down inside me. Strength! The strength of many to crush who might stop me. My strength is in number. And my soul lies in every one. The releasing of anger can better any medicine under the sun. Bones! In traction! Hands break to hone raw energy. Bold! And disastrous! My ears can't hear what you say to me! Hold your mouth for the war! Use it for what it's for! Speak the truth about me! Determined!' Pantera's anthem rose to a crescendo. Sparking more vivid, and terrible memories. The Monster was feeding well today! The three instructors surrounding me. Exploding into motion. The Monster guiding my hands and feet. A quick lunge. A devious feint. A violent twist. The snapping of the bones in one instructor's wrist. The Monster roaring inside of me. It's blood-lust unquenchable. A slashing kick, meant to miss. Driving the second off balance. A savage backward elbow, connecting with brutal precision into the mandible. A looping overhand right following. The instructor collapsing. The Monster bellowing in triumph. Feeding from the pain of these lesser beings! An arm wrapping around my throat. Trying to choke the life from me. The Monster breathed fire into my soul. A jumbled blur of images. Hands and feet. Fists, and elbows. Sitting atop the instructor. Blood red fists raining punishment. Venting the Monster's undying rage. The instructor's face battered to pulp. The abrupt ending. Electrical nodes slapping into my back. The tazer clicking, as pulses fired through my body. My savior standing over me yet again. That same smile on his face. "Congratulations Mason. You're ready for Phase Two." 'What have I done? Where have I come from? When I burnt the backs With the sun through a glass. Did I seal the loss That's become me? Feeling undone. What have I become? When I turned my back on you I turned my back on myself And became this machine. Thoughtlessness! Selfishness!Hopelessness! Arrogant! I feel it on the inside! Twisting and contorting! Memory has shaped me once again. Still feel you on the inside! Biting through and stinging! Will I ever forget to remember?' Mudvayne's epic blasted into me as my fists clenched hard. The knuckles crackling loudly enough to penetrate the music. As tears once again threatened to burst out of me. The Monster roared in frustration inside my mind. Don't Mason. Her love was a lie. You survived. But I couldn't help myself, as her face materialized out of memory. Long shimmering waves of auburn hair. Striking violet eyes. The slight smirk, always tugging at the edges of her mouth. I was paired with Mina for Phase Two. And for the first time in my life, I understood that someone could care about me. Could love me. And that I COULD be loved. Her instruction was just as fierce as the rest. But now it came along with a gentle touch. A whispered word of encouragement. For the first time, despite still being in The Foundry, I finally knew some small measure of peace. Six months of bliss. And one fatal, irredeemable mistake. Mina's body. Naked and glorious. Sliding up mine. Her legs straddling my hips as she lowered her mouth to mine. My cock slowly penetrating her body. Bliss. Mind numbing, uncontrollable. Her moist warmth sliding up and down the rigid length of my cock. Unable to control myself. Erupting inside of her. Feeling for the first time, what it meant to care for someone more than myself. One. Fatal. Mistake. Mina had failed in her test. Her assignment had been to make me love her. To make me fall in love. To see if I could be broken. Not through pain. But through joy. Her betrayal finally showing me the truth. The Monster's wail inside my head was earth shattering. She couldn't break you Mason! You are stronger than all of them! She failed! You survived! 'I have screamed until my veins collapsed. I've waited as my time's elapsed. Now, all I do is live with so much hate. I've wished for this, I've bitched at that. I've left behind this little fact: You cannot kill what you did not create. I've got to say what I've got to say. And then I swear I'll go away. But I can't promise you'll enjoy the noise. I guess I'll save the best for last. My future seems like one big past. You're left with me because you left me no choice.' Corey Taylor's growling poem of pain washed away those brief, gentle moments. Bringing home the bitter truth. And in my head the Monster bellowed in victory! Mina coming in on the attack. Her eyes hollow, empty. Nothing but the one emotion I had never seen from her. Hate. Defending. Blocking. Begging her not to make me fight her. White hot pain. Her knife sliding easily into my stomach. My vision going red. The sensation of fists smashing... Something. The wrenching pain of pulling the blade from my own skin. A terror stricken scream. Sobbing. Begging to know why. Holding Mina to my chest. This was my crucible. This was The Foundry. And I had been changed. Forged. I was now made of steel. I had killed what it was that made me able to love. I had destroyed my right to ever be loved again. They had not made this Monster. They now had no hope of ever killing it. And so my life had begun anew. The Foundry was not some top secret government training program. It was privately owned. By a group of people who specialized in finding troubled kids. And molding them into weapons. I had become a weapon. Auctioned off to someone I would never meet. Indentured to them until I either died, or I paid off their investment in me. It took me two years of intimidation, and elimination, fulfilling my contracts. Living on the scraps and leavings of my faceless "benefactor" before I met Merlin. The day she approached me was nothing special to me. Simply sitting, watching a world that had done it's damnedest to prove to me it hated me, roll by in front of me. Needing to work. Needing to feed the Monster. And wondering why I hadn't been activated. And then there she was. Nobody ever knocked on my door. And when I peeked through the window, there she stood. All of five feet two inches tall. Maybe one hundred ten pounds. Her nut brown skin shone in the fading light of the early evening. But it was her eyes that caught me. A startling shade of light sea green. Her frizzy hair cascaded around her face, framing it in a way that still defies my ability to accurately describe it. "Mason Griggs?" Her voice was kind of hesitant. It was the sound of someone who hadn't realized what they were stepping into. Yet, at the same time, it was dark, and breathy. Had I been anyone else, I would almost have classified it as seductive. "Who's asking?" I guess she hadn't expected the voice she got. My voice is deep, and scratchy. When I'm angry, or suspicious, it rumbles from deep inside my chest. She sort of flinched at the sound of it. But she regained her composure quickly. "You can call me Merlin." Her face was suddenly all business. Those eyes holding my own. A feat not many people had ever been able to accomplish. And that intrigued me more than a little. So I let her talk. And what she offered me was just too good to pass up. Part Three: Absolution "But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner who needed it most?" - Mark Twain The train pulled into Gloucester at nearly 10:30 pm. Naturally it was fucking snowing. I grew up in the Northeast, I knew winters were bad here. But for some reason I always hated the snow. It was never because of the cold, or the inconvenience it created. It was because that pristine blanket of white hid the ugliness, the dirt, the rotted blight that was the world. It made the world a lie. The Monster knew it as well as I did. Nothing was ever this pristine, this pure. The safe house was on the corner of Prospect and Church. A dingy little apartment on the top floor of a faded yellow building. It wasn't much to look at, but it served its purpose. A bed, a small kitchen, and a "work" area. The computer was set up on an ultra secure network, allowing us "Technicians" to plan, investigate, and keep in contact with Merlin. I didn't plan on being here long, but it was still better than staying in some cookie cutter hotel. This would do for the two to three days it would take me to make an example out of Conner Caplain. It only took me a day and a half to have the plan memorized. It turned out that Caplain, who pretended to be the happily married family man, had a thing for S&M. As part of his salary from the Irish, twice a month they provided him with one of their whores, so he could get his rocks off. He wasn't known for being gentle with them either. According to everything I could find on him, on a couple of occasions the girls had been returned so damaged they were basically worthless afterward. I could never figure it out about these upper echelon criminals. They all seemed to have at least one skeleton in their closet that they couldn't risk being exposed. Not even to the human garbage they worked with every day. Whatever it was that gave them their kicks, it was usually always a weakness I could exploit. The Castle Manor Inn, on Essex Ave. was a sprawling Victorian era building. It had once been a nearly palatial home for an obviously very wealthy family. Now it was an expensive bed and breakfast for people with too much fucking money. The entire place absolutely reeked of pretentiousness, and entitlement. Seemed like the exact kind of place I'd expect a scumbag like Caplain to enjoy while he was choking and beating a girl half to death. It didn't take me long, standing in the trees across Essex, to spot Caplain. The twitchy little shit got out of his car, and I knew right away. This was him. Five foot six, and maybe a buck sixty. His mousy brown hair curled tightly against his scalp, his hairline receding, and his little horn rimmed glasses. It all made for a perfect esthetic. No one would assume he was on his way to put cigarettes out on the skin of some young hooker who didn't know what she was getting herself into. I flipped up the collar of my pea-coat and adjusted my Boston Spoon to ward off the cold a little better. And waited. Maybe fifteen minutes later a black Lexus pulled into the parking lot, and looped around the corner of the building. I only caught a glimpse of the people inside. The driver had the look of someone who thought of himself as a tough guy. Hair slicked back, scowl plastered onto his face, wearing a leather jacket. Not someone to worry about physically, but he would definitely be a problem if he were armed. Plus I didn't need him to be able to identify me. The girl looked frightened. I couldn't get a read on her race, but she had long dark hair, and a very scared expression on her face. She almost looked fresh. Like this might be one of her first jobs. The Irish probably had her over a very large barrel. I waited until the car was out of sight, and made my way across Essex. Taking the long way around the building, I came up behind the Lexus, just as the girl was making her way through the rear entrance. The driver was sitting in the car, tapping away mindlessly on his phone. A quick scoop, and toss, and a snowball exploded against the window of the car. Fucking idiot. It took me five snowballs, before he was either mad enough, or curious enough, to get out of the car. That's all it took. One mistake. A wire garrote slipped over his head from the shadows, and a minute later he was tossed into the dumpster like the trash he was. I walked away with his car keys, his phone, and a silenced glock 9mm. Stupid fucker hadn't even bothered to lock his phone. Now I knew exactly where Caplain was. I knocked on the door to the Turret Tower suite, just as a loud crack, followed by a muffled shriek filtered through the door. The muzzle of the silenced pistol fit perfectly over the peep hole in the door. I stood, silent, watching the light under the door. The diffuse shadow grew deeper, and wider. "Who is it?" The weak voice of a man not expecting visitors echoed through the door. With something less than a conscious thought, I squeezed the trigger. The bullet smashed through the peephole, and into the skull of the man behind. A hollow thud followed by the gagged screaming of the girl came to me through the walls. With a single thrust, I drove my shoulder into the door. Wood splintered but barely moved. Caplain's body blocked my path. It took a minute to get it to move, and allow me into the room. Had I been another person, I might have been horrified by what I saw. A girl of maybe nineteen lay on her stomach. Tied to the head board, a ball gag shoved deeply into her mouth. She looked to be Arab of some sort, her bronze skin, and raven black hair were my only clues. Her back, and ass, looked like a rail yard of welts, and abrasions. She kept screaming through her gag, as her eyes looked upon the Monster. Sparing her a single last glance, I dragged Caplain's body to the wing chairs overlooking the windows, and sat him there. It almost made a comical scene. A scrawny little man, in a leather harness, his cock and balls wrapped up in a tight fitting metal ring. Sitting there as if he was about to have his morning coffee. Other than the hole drilled into his skull just above his left eye, it would have made someone laugh. I was about to leave when the asshole driver's phone chirped. 'Get the girl and get out! Russians OTW. 3min or less.' Deep inside me, the Monster roared. Leave her Mason. Get out. Survive. But there was something else. Something that grabbed me from deep inside. A small voice I had not heard in a very long time. Begging me to help this girl survive. I knew, without knowing how I knew, I was at a crossroads in my life. Something told me, if I left this poor girl to die, that there would be nothing left of Mason Griggs. That whatever good there may be left inside of me, would be snuffed out with her. The sound of footsteps in the stairwell told me I had no more time to consider my options. Slipping my K-Bar from my pocket, I cut the girl loose, and dragged her to the closet. "Stay down. Stay quiet. And stay alive." I growled at her in a near whisper. Two quick steps took me to the darkened bathroom. And I waited. A minute later the barrel of a twelve gauge shotgun broke the plane of the door. A fast lunge, and I grabbed the barrel. A powerful jerk of my arm brought the gunman off balance. A single stuttered step, and my K-Bar jammed into the armpit of the man. I wrenched the blade free, and drove it home, down between the neck and shoulder of the man. I jumped back into the darkened toilet, as a second man burst into the room. A second later the wood of the door frame exploded in splinters. A lunge through the door brought the second gunman into sight. The glock thudded quietly in the rapid moment he was in view. He jerked twice with the impact of the bullets, and slowly slid down the door frame. I knew there would be more, and this was not the place to fight them. I needed to get the girl and get out, where I could safely let the Monster slip its leash. The option was taken from me as the lights in the hotel died, and all hell broke loose downstairs. The roar of automatic weapons tore through the halls, followed by the screams of terror from the guests below. I closed my eyes and listened. Four different guns were rattling off. Converging on the central staircase. I loped down the stairs, the tower was too close to be effective against four men with guns. I needed movement. I needed surprise. I needed space. Deep within me, the Monster roared its challenge. I was already in motion as the first man crested the stairs. I hit my knees mid stride, the heavily waxed hardwood floor allowing my momentum to carry me forward. The sound of my approach drew the gunman's attention. He swung his gun up to what would have been chest level, just as my K-Bar drove up, under his ribs. A savage twist of my wrist, tearing open his diaphragm, shredding his heart and lungs. I snatched his rifle out of his hand as he tumbled back down the stairs. I didn't stand to watch him fall. The Monster knew what to do now. Move Mason. Don't let them catch you. Keep your feet moving. The Monster was right. Speed, and surprise were my allies here. I padded silently down the service corridor, making my way to the back stairs I had taken to get to Caplain's room. At the top of the stairs I squeezed the trigger of the assault rifle. Emptying the clip into the wall leading down. Using that confusion, I hopped up to the small landing between floors, and melted into the shadows there. My wait was short. I watched the flashlight mounted on the barrel of a rifle, bobbing in the darkness, as the man holding it slowly made his way up the stairs. I waited until he was half way through the turn in the stairs, his silhouette outlined by the reflected light on the wall. And squeezed the last round out of the glock. His head exploded against the wall, the dark stain of his blood spraying onto the paint. The sound of footsteps coming down the front hallway brought me back to task. Deep inside of me the Monster laughed. It's time Mason. This is what we were born for. Let me loose. Unleash me Mason. Instead of down the stairs, and out to safety, I found myself running, full bore, toward the sound. Now Mason! Let me loose! I caught the first man just as he made the corner. My hand catching the control rest of the rifle, twisting it up and over my head. A quick spin of my shoulders, and I stepped past the man, driving my foot into the stomach of the man behind him. I back-stepped, rolling my shoulder, snapping the gun up and over my shoulder. A fast dip of my hips, and a jerk of my arm, sent the first man snapping backward, crashing to the floor on his neck and shoulders. A shuffle step forward, and my K-Bar slashed. Once. Twice. Across the top of his knees, severing tendons. My hand grasped his wrist as he tried to bring his gun to bare. A lightning fast downward strike at his elbow cleanly cutting through the ropey tendon of his biceps. Releasing his now useless arm, I slapped my hand to the back of my K-Bar as it cut into the center of his chest. A vicious powered assist down, and a powerful thrust from my shoulder cut the muscles from his sternum, and drove the blade deep into his heart. A short snapping spin kick knocked the gun out of the last man's hand, as he struggled to regain his feet. I spun back, my elbow driving backward. I felt the expected crunch of the man's nose, as he staggered back with a grunt. I continued my spin, not letting the impact slow me. A looping overhand right connecting with his jaw, dropped him to one knee. Using my forward momentum, I slid behind him, my left arm wrapping around his throat. Thirty seconds later, after a brief struggle, I felt the expected crackling in his neck, as his head twisted at an unnatural angle. Breathing deeply, I felt my pulse return to normal, my muscles begin to uncoil. The tension of the situation began to seep out of me. I knew I had about fifteen minutes before the adrenaline crash happened. And significantly less time before the police showed up. The Turret Tower was much as I'd left it, save for the fact that now, the girl had made her way out of the closet. She was crawling around looking for her clothes. We didn't have time for this. She had a blue sheath dress half pulled on, and no shoes. I tossed her the overcoat she had been wearing and tried to drag her out of the room. As soon as I touched her, she tried jerking away from me, screaming in fear. "Shut up!" I growled at her angrily. Deep inside the Monster warned me. She'll slow you down Mason. Leave her. And again. I have no idea why I did it. But I ignored it. "If we don't both get out of here, we'll both wind up dead!" And I dragged her down the hall. She just sort of followed me, numbly walking, trying to ignore the dead men I'd left in my wake. The snow was too cold for her bare feet, so ignoring her weak protests, I scooped her into my arms, and hustled her to the waiting Lexus. We were several blocks way when the flashing blue lights converged on the hotel. I was half way to the safe house when my phone chirped. Merlin's text was simple. 'Avoid safe house. System compromised. Contact me when secure.' SHIT! The Russians hadn't been after Caplain, OR the Irish. They were after me! Somehow my contract on Gregor had been tied back to me. FUCK! They might know about Merlin too! I drove until I hooked onto the I-90 west. I had a three and change hour drive back to Troy, and I knew I couldn't go back to my apartment. If they knew where I was going to be, they knew where I was coming from too. The Monster had thought of that possibility long ago. I had a tits up plan in place. I looked over at the girl in the passenger seat. I was not surprised to see the blank stare of fear in her eyes. She looked at me like the Monster I was. A pervasive terror lurking just below the glassy facade of shock. It was a look I was all too familiar with. For some reason though, this time, it bothered me. "I'm not gonna hurt you ya know." I said quietly as I watched her face for a reaction. She sort of jumped when I finally broke more than an hour of silence. She turned her face toward me, and regarded me with eyes that seemed to take in all of me at once. It hadn't occurred to me until that moment, but she was actually a very pretty girl. Her face was angular, with wide cheeks, and a lush mouth. Her nose was narrow, and fine, with just a slight upturn at the tip. But it was her eyes that really made her something special. They were almond shaped, yet large and expressive. They were also so dark they were nearly black. Her hair was long, and thick, and tumbled down past her shoulders in loose ringlets. Her voice was smokey, and rich as she finally spoke. "You killed those men." It was almost an indictment. And for some reason the fact that she didn't believe me hurt. Somewhere deep inside of me the Monster growled in a warning. No Mason. Don't. She'll make you weak. And from deeper still, a voice I couldn't even recall, whispered urgently. Save her Mason. Please. Help her. Until the day I die, I'll never understand why, but that smaller, weaker voice was the one I listened to. "Yeah..." I answered her accusation with a shrug. "I also killed the man who was trying to hurt you too..." I left the statement hanging in silence, as her dark eyes widened with the realization of the truth of my statement. *** It was just approaching midnight, my mind was numb from the struggle to stay alert through the crash that comes after an intense burst of adrenaline. I pulled up in front of a small cabin nestled in a small dell in the Shawangunk Mountains. It was an hour and a half south of Troy. Completely isolated, and insulated from Mason Griggs. Owned by a shell company, set up as an investment firm to launder the money from my work. There was no connection to me. The upkeep and utilities were paid for through the same investment firm. Beside me, the girl slept, huddled in a small ball against the seat, as far away from me as she could get in such close quarters. I figured the Irish had GPS on the car, and would know where we were if we stopped for much longer than a few minutes. So I scooped her out of the car in a hurry. She fought frantically, but after a minute, when she realized that as hard as she hit me, I never so much as raised a fuss, she stopped. I carried her through the front room of the cabin, and into the second bedroom. They were both pretty much the same. Full size bed, four drawer dresser, table, lamp, and one chair. I didn't need much more, but the cabin had the second bedroom when I bought it, so I furnished it, more out of hating to waste the space, than anything else. I laid the girl in the bed, on top of the blankets, and turned to leave. "I'll be back before morning. Get some sleep." I said to her. I didn't look at her, I had the feeling I wouldn't be able to meet that accusing look of hers. As I walked out of the cabin I sent Merlin a text, planning on our meeting place. 'Coxsackie exit rest stop. One hour. Bring a ride.' As I got back in the car the Monster was furious. She's poison Mason! She'll make you weak! I started the Lexus and understood. She may just get me killed. But at least I'd finally have something worth dying for. The girl needed a protector until this shit finally settled. She needed me to help her. And if it killed me. So be it. Maybe it would wash away the stains of all the terrible things I'd done in my life. A few minutes short of an hour later, I watched from the shadows of the rest stop's picnic area, as Merlin's little blue Honda Pilot pulled into a parking spot. She jumped slightly when I knocked on the passenger window. After a brief look of relief, coupled with an emotion I couldn't quite place, the door unlocked, and I climbed in. "I don't know how long we have right here. I'm driving one of the Irish's cars. Exit nineteen. The mountains. We'll be safe there." For the first time since we met, Merlin didn't flinch when I spoke. By the time Merlin broke the silence in the car, we were halfway down I-87 to exit nineteen. Her words were soft, yet insistent as she spoke. "I don't know how the Russians broke my database Mason. By the time I figured it out, they already had all of your mission files." That information brought me wide awake. They had my name! She must have seen my reaction, because she smiled slightly. "Don't worry Mason. None of the Technician's names are on those files. Just code numbers. Nothing ever gets traced. But they knew your number killed Gregor. And they knew where you were going to be in Gloucester. They know our safe houses. But that's all they know." I relaxed into the seat. The news was welcomed, yet troubling. The federal government couldn't crack Merlin's encryption. Yet somehow the Russians did. At least they wouldn't be able to find us at my cabin. I sat and listened as Merlin continued to explain the situation. Technicians in question. Safe houses compromised. Right up until I drifted to sleep. I didn't understand why, but for some reason her voice brought me peace. For the first time since my time with Mina, when I closed my eyes, the memories did not come. If I had been awake enough to notice it, I would have seen Merlin's smile as she watched me slip into the void. Part Four: Rise "Hell is yourself. And the only redemption is when a person puts himself aside to feel deeply for another person" - Tennessee Williams I'm not sure how long I was asleep. I'm not the type of person who sleeps much to begin with. But for the first time in more than fifteen years, my sleep was not plagued by the terrors of my past. What woke me up was the feeling of the SUV's engine being turned off. The second the vibrations in the floor boards stopped, I was awake, and alert. I looked out the window and saw my cabin Merlin had gotten us there safe. We walked to the door, and as I was opening it I said, "Oh yeah. There was a slight... Complication, with Caplain" I didn't have to elaborate much, because as soon as I opened the door, we were ducking and dodging as the girl from the hotel started throwing anything she could find at us. A lamp, books, and even the pillows from the ratty couch in the living room came flying at us from out of the darkness. Somehow Merlin found the light switch, and as soon as the lights came on, the girl froze. She had the long overcoat she had been wearing at the hotel wrapped around her body, and from the looks of it, not much else. Her eyes popped open in fear as they landed on me. "You about done?" I asked calmly. "I told I'd be back." I gestured to Merlin "This is Merlin. She's a friend. Merlin, this is the complication I mentioned." Merlin looked back, and forth between us, a small smile tugging at her lips. I couldn't quite place why, but that smile made me happy and yet afraid at the same time. The next three days were as much of a trial for me, as my time in The Foundry. It seemed the tasks of opening the cabin would never be done. We needed food. We needed clothes. This being my fallback location, the only thing I had ever bothered stocking were weapons, hidden safely in a secret cache. The caretaker had to be relieved temporarily. And the whole time the girl from the hotel avoided us both like we had Ebola. During all of this, deep within me, the Monster raged. No Mason! This will weaken you! You won't survive this! And yet the small voice was there as well. They need you Mason. You are doing the right thing. Please Mason. Saving them may save us as well. I don't know why, but every time I heard that small voice, I couldn't help but listen to it. On the third night at the cabin, my dreams were dark. They haunted me from the past with an intensity that tore my mind raw. I'm not sure how long I slept, but it couldn't have been very long. The only light in the room came from the small lamp in the corner of the living room. Before my senses could be cleared of sleep, I saw the figure on the sofa next to me. With a strangled growl, I reacted. My instincts for survival overriding all else. My K-Bar resting on the table near my elbow suddenly in my hand. I almost acted on my first impulse, and drove the blade home. But stopped when I finally saw that it was Merlin, sitting in the chair, watching me sleep. And again, the Monster screamed in outrage. Merlin just smiled as I put the knife back on the table. "I used to love watching you sleep Mason." she whispered in that breathy voice of hers. Her eyes were the softest I had ever seen them. I could see the tension in her shoulders as she spoke. I was unused to seeing her in a vulnerable situation. The feelings it inspired in me were very confusing. "What do you mean Merlin?" I saw her smile fade slightly as I said this. I could tell there was something she wished I would say. But fucked if I knew what she needed me to say. "You don't remember me do you Mason?" There was definitely a tinge of sadness in her voice. "Not Merlin. You don't remember the little girl who used to bring you peanut butter and jelly when Marius used to make you sleep on the fire escape? The little girl who gave you a blanket when it rained to help keep you warm? You don't remember me?" There were actually tears in her eyes as she spoke. And suddenly the memories crashed into me like a hurricane breaking on a shore. I was nine years old. The wind off the Hudson River was bitterly cold. November of 1996 was proving that this winter was going to be brutal. I was sitting on the steel grating on the third floor of the housing projects Marius had moved us into. Shivering from the cold. And suddenly she was there. Her little corn rows framing a sad face. The light sea green eyes welling in concern as she placed a grubby Little Mermaid blanket over my shoulders. I remembered... "Tasha..." I whispered the name as tears I had not shed in fifteen years started rolling down my cheeks. Her name was Tasha. And for most of my life she had been the only one who had ever shown me kindness. Without thinking. Completely ignoring the Monster's roar. I pulled Tasha into me, wrapping my arms around her. I buried my face in her shoulder and wept. I felt the soft warmth of her arms wrap around my neck. Holding me tightly as her cheek nuzzled against my hair. "That's right Mason. I spent so many years looking for you." I felt her arms tighten further. "I was so afraid I'd lost you Mason. I never forgot the promise I made to you on that fire escape. I never stopped looking for you." I could clearly remember, the little girl she was, on the fire escape. Wailing my name, as the police stuffed me into the back of their cruiser. I remembered the last words I heard from her as I was driven away. Promising me she would find me. And I tightened my arms around her again. This was the first promise anyone had ever made to me, that had been kept. We sat and held each other for hours. Tasha holding me close as we cried into each others shoulders. When the tears ended we talked. I sat and listened in awe as Tasha set fire to the guilt I carried for more than fifteen years. "Daddy was one of Marius' regular customers. And when he didn't have enough money, he would give me to Marius." She wiped tears from her eyes as she spoke. "That day, when you knocked on our door. Mason, you saved me! After the police took you away, I finally had the courage to tell someone about what Daddy and Marius were doing to me. I told one of the officers. When you killed Marius you saved my life Mason." I hugged her tighter, whispering thank yous as I felt the weight of my actions shifted. In the killing of Marius and Amanda, I hadn't damned myself. I had saved the life of the first person to ever show me basic human kindness. I had saved this beautiful person crying into my shoulder. "Tasha," I whispered into her hair. "How did you find me? How did you become Merlin?" I needed to know how the little girl who used to cry when I was unable to allow myself to hug her, had become a wizard of the world of hired killers. I needed to know. She looked down at me, her eyes bright and wide, as her finger gently traced the XIII tattoo on my right shoulder. "You were class thirteen of The Foundry." She said it matter-of-factly, as she smiled sadly. I was shocked at her knowledge of The Foundry. As far as I knew it was a VERY tightly kept secret. "When CPS took me away from Daddy, they sent me to live with my Uncle Jerry. He had a VII in the same place." Her smile lessened and the sadness in her eyes became painful for me to look at. "He was class seven Mason. It took me years to figure out what he did. But when I did, he told me everything. He taught me how to run The Operation." Her look became distant. I knew she was battling the demons of her own past now. And I pulled her tightly against my chest as she trembled. "For the first few years I thought we were doing good. Killing people who deserved it. Who would never see justice otherwise. But then I read the article about a family killed in a car bombing. They had no reason to die. The man's business partner had simply wanted his half of their company." She was sobbing into my shoulder now. "I had arranged their deaths. I didn't know why he was a target. But I killed an innocent family Mason. They died because I set it in motion!" Her arms tightened around my neck once again, as I felt her hot tears wetting the shoulder of my tank top. "It took me two years to set up The Operation. And my first Technician was you Mason." The realization that she had come to me first, that she had spent two years trying to find me, shook the very core of my being. Inside of me the Monster let loose an earth shattering roar. A roar I completely ignored. "Uncle Jerry was a savage. He didn't care who he killed. He felt nothing for any of them." She explained gently to me. "He killed simply because he could make money from it." Something told me I knew where this was heading. "He was your first contract Mason. Ever since I built The Operation, we've been working to make the things Uncle Jerry did right." Inside me two voices warred with each other. The Monster screamed in indignant outrage. What had once been the small voice trumpeted in triumph. I looked up at her in amazement. Her eyes were dazzling. And suddenly they were closed. Her lips pressed against mine. I was stunned for half a minute. The immediacy of the moment catching me off guard. And suddenly I was hungry. I wanted to taste those lips again. This woman kissing me, had been the only person to ever care about me. She had once told me, in no uncertain terms, with the conviction that only a child can muster, that she would marry me one day. And now here she was, sitting in my lap kissing me. I surged forward, my lips pressing into her own. Our tongues wrestling for control. I could honestly feel the difference between this kiss and the only other person in my past. Mina's kiss had felt good, yes. But this kiss... This kiss felt as if it were long over due. I hadn't even been aware of it, but it felt like this was something I had wanted to happen all my life. I let my hands wander up her back, eliciting a moan from deep in her throat. We broke apart for a split second. A smile unlike anything I had ever seen, spread across Tasha's face. Suddenly I was standing. Holding Tasha against me as her legs wrapped around my waist. Without even realizing what I had done, I backed her up against the wall of the living room. Her petite, firm tits pressing into my chest. Our kiss seemed re-energized by the sensation, as her nipples hardened, boring into my chest. There was an urgent insistence in her hands, as they eagerly tugged my tank top up and off of my body. Her eyes burned with a hunger I had never seen in a woman, as her hands roamed over the muscles of my chest. And suddenly her lips were pressed against mine once again. I was nearly insane with the long denied desire for human contact. It wasn't even a conscious action, as I tore off the buttons of the oversized jersey she slept in. They scattered across the room as I flung the shirt away from us. The feel of her flesh, hot, and soft against my own tore a groan of lust from me. "I've been waiting fifteen years for you Mason." Tasha whispered as her fingers raked through my hair. "Stop making me wait, and take me to bed already." Her voice was fierce and hungry as she gently bit my left earlobe. Her fingers tightened in my hair as my hands roamed down her body, sliding down under the silky material of her underwear. I trembled and groaned as my hands cupped the smooth warmth of her petite, firm ass. I almost couldn't believe that something that could fit so perfectly into my own hands, could be so full. It felt like it was right where it belonged. I don't recall the walk from the living room to, what had become, Tasha's room. I don't recall how we wound up on her bed. Shit, I don't even recall how it was my boxers wound up in the corner behind her bedroom door. But what I DO recall, is kneeling on that bed taking in the absolutely amazing beauty of Tasha's body as I slid her purple panties up and off the exquisite expanse of her slim, toned legs. Her skin was smooth, and glowed with a health, and radiance I had never seen in another person. The deep mahogany of her body reflecting the moonlight filtering through the window made me catch my breath. My eyes roamed hungrily over her body. The Cheshire Cat smile that played at her full, moist lips. Trailing down her delicate neck to her firm mounded breasts. Her nipples, a dark milk chocolate, stood erect as her chest heaved beneath my gaze. Her lithe stomach hollowed as she followed my eyes, which finally took in the smooth, bare, plump expanse of her pussy. It was, beyond a doubt, the single most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Her erect clit stood proud above her swollen lips. I leaned in, and once again claimed Tasha's mouth. My eyes widened in wonder as I felt Tasha's hands grasp my cock. I stared at her as her eyes widened in shock as she realized her fingers could not fit around it. "You're much bigger than I imagined Mason." she whispered throatily as she slotted my head against the wet entrance of her pussy. "And you are more amazing than I deserve Tasha." I said as I leaned in to kiss her again. My thoughts of kissing Tasha vanished, as her legs wrapped around my waist, and pulled me inside of her. A groan escaped from both of our mouths, as I slowly pushed my cock into the soft, liquid warmth of Tasha's pussy. She was so tight that it felt like she was strangling my cock. The heat from inside her body enveloped me, and seemed to spread from her, and through my entire body. Tasha's legs tightened around me, as her mouth fell open in a silent moan of pleasure. With a satisfied smile on her beautiful face, she melted back into the bed. I slowly pulled back, dragging my cock out until my crown was being squeezed by the tight ring of her entrance. Her arms fell to the pillow beside her head in a languid pose, as she bit her lip. The gaze she threw at me at that moment was smoldering. I thrust back into her slowly. In a single, firm, motion, not stopping until I felt my balls resting on the toned bottom of her ass. In all of my life, I had never felt something so amazing! Tasha's eyes went wide, and she threw back her head as a moan was forced from her throat. I pulled my hips back again, and felt Tasha's legs tighten around my hips. I knew what she wanted immediately, and pushed back into her hot wet pussy. Tasha surprised me again, by thrusting her hips back into my thrust. A moan escaped both of us. We had both, unintentionally discovered our own rhythm. My thrusts were no longer slow, or hesitant, but firm, and hungry. And Tasha met each and every one with a thrust of her own hips. The liquid heat of her pussy wrapped and tightened around my dick with each thrust. I looked down and watched in awe, as her small, firm, tits bobbed with each thrust. It was amazing. But I wanted more. I wanted to feel more. Inspired by that desire, I wrapped my hands around Tasha, and scooped her up, pressing her torso into my own. The feel of her rock hard nipples drilling into my skin, as I pulled her up and down my cock was, and still to this day is, beyond my ability to describe. Being this close again, allowed for more of the kisses we had both suddenly become so needy of. My tongue swiped Tasha's lips, and she happily opened them to accept it. I felt her moan into my mouth, as my hips slammed heavily into hers. My thrusts into her warm, tight, depths were steady, yet firm, as I felt her clit grind along the length of my dick. Tasha broke our kiss, and rested her head on my shoulder, and I felt her breath against my ear as she whispered to me. "I... Waited... Fif... Fifteen years... For this... Mason!" She hissed into my ear, as her fingers laced through my hair. "Oh God Mason! I've wanted this for so looo...!" The last word was strangled from her throat, as she started to heave, and buck against my body. Tasha was cumming! This beautiful woman, who had loved me for longer than I could ever know, was in my arms. And I was giving her so much pleasure she couldn't even speak! Deep inside the Monster wailed in anguish, as the walls it had built so carefully, for so long vanished. They didn't crumble. They didn't fall. In that perfect moment of realization, they completely vaporized. The feeling of Tasha's love. Knowing that, no matter what, regardless of what I thought of my own past. That she saw something inside me, that was still worth loving. Was the single most amazing moment of my life. And as I felt her climax hit its peak, I stopped fighting against my own. For the first time in more years than I could count, I allowed myself to experience bliss. And with a short series of rapid thrusts, I pumped her full of my cum. My mind was blank. White. A pleasure so intense I could never describe it. It was agony. It was ecstasy. It was a feeling I had never imagined. In that moment, all that mattered was being right where I was. Holding this woman, that I never would have imagined I could deserve. The feel of her flesh pressed against my own. The sound of her breathing into my ear, as she whispered my name over, and over again. Those sensations. Those impressions. Were all I would remember of that perfect moment. And then one, even more important realization hit me. I had thought I had been in love with Mina. But this? This was a thousand times stronger. If this was love, than this was definitely worth dying for. And in that moment of realization what had been that small voice inside of me, let loose like Gabriel blowing his horn. *** I'm not sure how long I slept. Feeling Tasha curled up against my left side, her warmth radiating through my body. It lulled me into a deep, untroubled sleep. I didn't dream of my demons. I didn't dream of Amanda. Or Marius. Instead my dreams took me to the few memories of warmth, and peace I had ever known. I dreamed of meeting Tasha for the first time. She couldn't have been more than seven. Her little cornrows turning into braids that cascaded down to her shoulders. She found me huddled on the fire escape, rocking back and forth, as I tried to escape the pains of hunger. The warmth in her smile as she handed me a slightly soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Watching her sad green eyes brighten when I thanked her. I dreamed of our conversations on that same fire escape. Of listening to her tell stories about how one day she was gonna live in a castle. About how I was gonna be her brave knight, and protect her from dragons. And in all of these dreams, the sweetly, sad smile she'd always had, was replaced by the smile I'd seen on her face, when I'd finally remembered her name. It was, beyond doubt, the single best night of sleep in my life. Of course, it came to a screeching end, as the door to the bedroom burst open. The girl from the hotel, one of the only things we ever managed to get her to tell us was her name, Laleh, came hurtling into the room. She had a kitchen knife in her hand, and murder in her eyes. Screaming about not letting me hurt Merlin, she was swinging like the dervishes of her heritage. And it was only a life time of survival instincts, and honed, specialized, reflexes from The Foundry, that kept her from opening me up from neck to nuts. I rolled out of bed, away from Tasha, and inside the sweep of the blade. I felt a hot sting as I allowed a small cut to my forearm, in order to smack at her wrist, sending the knife to the floor. I kicked the knife behind me, and under the bed. And with practiced ease, looped my right arm under her left, stepped across my own body, and allowed her own momentum to flip her onto her back, on the bed. "You done yet psycho?" I asked in a snarl that shocked both her and Tasha with the venom in my voice. I backed up to the door, and glared at her. The icy look of hate, tinged with fear, in her eyes hurt. I hadn't done anything toward her except offer her food, and clothes. And she still couldn't look at me as anything other than a monster. But now I was angry. I was past trying to placate her. She had been shown a FAR greater degree of compassion than I had EVER shown anyone in my life. And she constantly tried to spit on it. Fuck angry. I was PISSED! "I've had about enough of your shit!" I roared at her. Her eyes closed, and she flinched at the volume of my voice. "I have done nothing but try to fucking keep you alive, from the moment I met you! You wanna know how rare THAT is?" I looked at Tasha, and saw a fear in her eyes, that cut the legs out from under my rage. I deflated slightly, as a sadness I was wholly unfamiliar with washed over me. I simply pointed to Tasha and said quietly, as I turned to walk out of the room, "Ask her. She can tell you, you're the first." And quietly closed the door behind me as I walked toward the front door of the cabin. I spent the next hour on the porch of the cabin, using the first aid kit to clean and bandage the surprisingly deep cut on my forearm. Then, after realizing I honestly didn't know if I could face Tasha again, after my explosion, just sitting on the porch in the cold winter air of the Shawangunks. I smoked a cigarette as I watched the sun peek it's way through the iron gray clouds of mid winter. I only allow myself five a day, this was one I felt I needed. The thought of seeing that fear of me in Tasha's eyes, caused a giant pit to open in my stomach. And from deep inside that pit the Monster reminded me it was still there. You won't survive this Mason. You need to get rid of them. It wouldn't take any real effort Mason. Let me loose. We can still be strong. And I almost gave in. I almost went to my weapons cache. I almost let the Monster devour the only good piece of me that was left. It would have been so easy. A few minutes, tops. And I would have been able to bury the weakness, and fear I was feeling. The only thing that stopped me was knowing that, if I buried those feelings, then I would be burying what I had felt when I held Tasha in my arms the night before as well. And once experienced, those were feelings I never wanted to go without again. I'm not sure how long I sat on the porch. Cold had long since stopped bothering me. And the weak morning light helped keep me warm enough to survive. I was staring moodily out at the cross hatched landscape of the snow covered Shawangunks, when a sound broke into my bitter revery. Snapping my eyes to the front door, I saw Tasha walking toward me. A thick fleece blanket in her hands, and sad tears in her eyes. I couldn't meet those tears. Knowing I put them there was like acid burning away inside my gut. I looked away, unsure how I would react to seeing that fear again, only to feel her slide into my lap with the blanket covering us both. "Why'd you leave Mason?" She asked me, her voice low, with a definite air of fragility in it. I felt her arms wrap around my torso, and even though they couldn't reach around me fully, it felt like the safest place in the world. I sighed, as I let my arms embrace her as well. "I couldn't stand to see you afraid of me Tasha." I whispered in her ear, as my arms tightened slightly. "All my life people have been afraid of me. Except you. Until this morning." I knew I wasn't explaining things right, but this was entirely alien territory for me. "You know me better than anyone alive. You know what I've done. You know what I am. And until this morning, you never looked afraid of me. I..." Whatever I was going to say next was lost, as I felt a hard slap across my left cheek. "You idiot!" Tasha exploded, her sea green eyes hard as stone. "I was afraid because you were BLEEDING! I was AFRAID because Laleh was trying to KILL YOU!" She slapped me again, as tears started rolling down her face. "I thought you were ashamed of me. I thought I was going to lose you again Mason!" her words were choked through her sobbing. I had no response to that. I'm completely unashamed to admit it. Even though I could roll with the unexpected, and improvise on the fly, this one had me stumped. All I could do was hug her, and whisper assurances that I was not going anywhere. Ten minutes after the crying started, I felt her begin to calm down. And it was then that she absolutely demolished any chance I ever thought I had, when she whispered in my ear "I never stopped loving you Mason. Even when I didn't know if I'd see you again. You're mine Mason, and I'm never losing you again." And deep inside of me, what used to be that small voice rang out like the bells of Notre Dame. I didn't even hear the Monster. Part Five: Ironclad "Better to fight for something, than live for nothing" - George S. Patton I needed a plan. It had been three weeks since Gloucester. The Russians were still trying to find us. The Irish had a hit out on Laleh, and whoever had killed Caplain, A.K.A. me. And Tasha was still trying to filter information on who had leaked her encryption. All in all, life at the cabin was not going well. Laleh still looked at me like I was going to savage her at any moment. Tasha, while still amazingly attentive when we were alone, kept herself squirreled away trying to compile information. Which left me, to do nothing but wait. I filled the hours alternating between servicing, and general maintenance on the old Ford Explorer I kept in the shed behind the cabin, and whatever exercise I could do. Without the weights, and benches I had kept in my apartment, that pretty much limited me to calisthenics, running, and weapons training. I had just came in from a four mile run, it was so cold outside that steam was still wafting off of my head, when an idea hit me. If we couldn't figure out who on the inside had betrayed The Operation, we still had problems I COULD deal with. The Russians were a threat, but until we found out which Bratva had ordered the contract on me, they would have to wait. The Irish, however, were a much more homogenous organization. That was a problem I could take care of. The idea came out nowhere. But deep down inside of me, for the first time since I became aware of it, the small voice, was in complete agreement with the Monster. The funny thing was, as I sat and began to formulate my plan, now that both the Monster, and the Voice were in agreement, I felt stronger than ever. Now it wasn't time to let the Monster slip it's chains. Now it was time let Mason Griggs out of his cage. It took surprisingly little effort to get Tasha to find out who ordered the contracts on me and Laleh. And two days after I asked her to look into it, she plopped a file in my lap that made war and peace look like light reading. It turns out Caplain's death had hurt a lot worse than we had expected. Suddenly the Irish were scrambling to find a way to launder almost seventy percent of their money. So needless to say they were VERY angry. Not only that, but they assumed Laleh was somehow connected to his death. The contract had come from the very top. Murphy "Murph The Gent" Fallon, was the head of the Boston Mob. And he was one of the most cold blooded motherfuckers on the east coast. According to everything Tasha had dug up on him, he had butchered his way to the head of the organization. Anyone whom had stood in his way, had had fatal accidents. In most cases, their entire family had been involved in those accidents. He ran New England with an iron fist. Drugs, whores, gambling, gun running. You name it, The Gent had his fingers dipped in that particular cookie jar. He was also security conscious to the point of paranoia. He ran his syndicate from a bunker like office, that would take anti-tank ordinance to crack. He owned a walled compound in the ultra rich Back Bay area of Boston, and apparently had turned it into something the federal government could study for security ideas. No security is fool proof though. And I studied everything Tasha gave me until I had a plan. I had found Fallon's weakness. His paranoia led him to be a creature of habit. He never deviated from his set schedule. And now I saw how this was going to end. The night before I left for Boston, as I laid in bed, the Monster, and the Voice didn't war with each other. Instead they seemed to spur me on. Each in their own way, the Monster with strategy, and planning, the Voice with my reasons for going. For the first time in my life, I felt centered. I had read many eastern philosophers, and finally understood what they meant when they said if you know yourself, and your enemy, and you'll win every battle. I was finally getting to know my whole self. And the reality of that was, I knew that I was now even more dangerous than ever before. Now, not only did I have the will and ability to fight. Now I also had a reason. These thoughts were erased as Tasha slid into bed with me. I marveled again at the softness of her skin, as I felt her arm slide across my midsection. I relaxed into the sensation of her touch as her smell, lilac and oranges, wafted up to my nose. "You know you have to be careful tomorrow right Mason?" she whispered to me. I could hear her fighting back the tears. I let my hand slide down her spine, trying to comfort her. "I know Tasha. I'm not leaving any of this to chance. I've got too much to lose now. You realize now I have something to come back to right?" I whispered gently, as my fingers continued to play gently along her spine. Her eyes met mine, and they were shining. She slowly crawled up my body until we were face to face and kissed me gently. "Mason... I don't know..." I silenced her with another kiss, and looked into her light sea green eyes and said softly, "I love you Tasha. And as long as you'll have me, I'll always come back." Her response wasn't what I had expected. Instead of whispering a reply, she attacked me. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and her mouth plastered itself to mine. I felt her tongue bore its way into my mouth, and swirl around mine as her hips settled her smooth pussy down on top of my raging hard on. She didn't say a word as she hunched her hips back, catching my crown in the slippery slot of her vagina. And with an agonizing slowness, pressed my cock inside of her. I groaned, as the now familiar feel of her warm, slippery cunt slid down my shaft. I still had no words for how amazing it felt to be nestled inside of her body. It seemed that Tasha did not want to be gentle tonight. As soon as I was fully inside of her, she rose up, pulling about half of my cock out of her warm tunnel, and then, just as quickly rammed herself back down. As soon as the cheeks of her ass slapped into my legs, she repeated the move. She set a tempo unlike anything I had ever experienced. And soon she was slamming her pelvis into mine in a rapid staccato. Her heat, and the tightness of her was the sweetest of agonies. I was already fighting back against my own impending orgasm, when Tasha settled onto me, and held perfectly still. "Mason..." she panted, her breath puffing against my neck in the sexiest way I'd ever felt. "Before you go tomorrow, I want to give you something." she said as she swung her leg over my hip, pulling my cock out of her in the process. My steel hard erection slapped into my stomach, as I watched her settle onto her stomach, with her head facing the foot of the bed. I watched as she tilted her hips, and spread her knees, and my jaw hit my chest. Her gleaming, wet pussy, framed by those amazing toned legs. And topped by an ass that could have been sculpted by the finest Italian marble. It was the most erotic sight I'd ever experienced. "Mason..." she took a deep breath before continuing "I want you in my ass..." Her voice quavered as she offered up her ass to me. Whether from fear of the act, or of rejection I don't know. It didn't take me more than a second to respond to that call to action! One second I was lying with my back against the head board of the bed. The next I was kneeling between her legs, my painfully rigid cock hovering just inches above that spectacular ass. "Are you sure this is what you want?" I had the presence of mind to ask, even as my left hand slid down along her hip. I watched her nod her head, as she leaned her hips back slightly, causing her ass to come in contact with the underside of my glans. That was all the confirmation I needed. I took my cock in hand, and, aiming it down, began to work the head in small circles, smearing her juices around her dimpled ass. I wanted to go slowly, to avoid hurting her. But Tasha was not in the mood for slow. The second she felt my tip enter the tight ring of her ass, she thrust back as hard as she could, taking half of my cock inside of her in a single move. "OH GOD!" The words were forced out of my mouth in a strangled gasp, as the tight ring of Tasha's ass gave way to the soft, buttery tissue of her bowels. Tasha was again in charge of our tempo, as she swiveled her hips in a seductive circle, and leaned forward, dragging the exquisite heat of her ass along my shaft. As soon as she felt the flare of my crown, she thrust herself back against me. Only this time she didn't stop until my balls were resting on the scorching heat of her pussy. I didn't need a second reminder of my role in this. Taking her by both hips, I pushed Tasha's ass away from me, as I dragged my hips backwards. It wasn't a full length stroke, I didn't want it to be. With a muted grunt, I pulled her ass back toward me, as I drove my hips forward. The cheeks of that amazing ass slapped into me, sending ripples along those fantastic globes. And just like that we were off to the races, and despite her petite size, Tasha gave just as hard as she got. She grunted, and moaned as we slammed our bodies into one another. Sweat poured down my body, as my cock was bathed in the fluttering heat of her ass. "Mmmmuuhhhh... Maaasss... Mason! Oh God Mason! More!" Tasha's fists clenched into the bed sheets as she shot me a smoldering look over her shoulder. I smiled at her, as my hands tightened around her slim waist, and, growling like a beast, I found another gear. I was slamming into her ass while pulling her almost savagely into me. The sound of our bodies clapping together was loud enough to echo through the room. I was mid stroke, pulling Tasha onto my dick once more, when I suddenly felt the tissues of her colon begin to flutter, and contract, as her back arched. Tasha's jaw was clenched, and her eyes squeezed shut, as I felt her feet kick a rapid beat into the mattress, as her back arched. Suddenly it was like I had just jolted her with fifty thousand volts. She was shuddering, and moaning, as her body went into a series of ever increasing spasms. Tasha thrust her ass back into my pelvis, and her muscles cramped, locking themselves around my cock. It was entirely too much for me. And with one concussive heave, I unloaded in her clenching ass hole. Firing rope after rope of scalding cum deep inside of her. My mind went blank. I had a vague sense of falling, and suddenly being cushioned by the warmest, softest pillow ever made. It took me a minute to realize that I was lying on top of Tasha, my half hard cock, still buried in the heat of her ass. Reluctantly, I pulled myself off of her, and flopped backward into the pillows, when movement caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. I watched as a furtive shadow darted away from the partially opened door. But I didn't have time to ponder it, as Tasha slowly crawled up my body. "Mason..." She sighed deeply, as I felt her body melt against mine. "That was the single most amazing thing I've ever felt..." her words cut off into a small, contented moan, as I watched her eyes flutter shut. I had just enough sense left in me to pull the blanket up over us, before I fell into a deep dark chasm where, for the first time in my life, I slept in perfectly undisturbed contentment. *** Boston, it turned out took longer than I had anticipated. It took me three days alone, to start making dents in Fallon's organization. Clipping a wise guy was something that went with the territory in the mob. You had to get the guys higher up. I started with his shot callers. It took me surprisingly little effort to get information out of them. I left one sitting on his toilet with a kitchen knife in his chest. One had a bodyguard, which I found ironic considering he was actually tougher than his "hired muscle". A rush from the side, a quick punch to the kidney, and a solid slam of a car door while he was falling, and the body guard was out of the equation. I left my target sitting in the back of his own town car, with bullets in both kneecaps, and his chest. The third was my gold mine. Turns out he had a thing for ladybois. I found him sitting in a "massage parlor" with his dick in the mouth of a Filipino tranny. A hard kick to the jaw, and I pretty much had everything I needed. I left him sitting there with his "girlfriend's" hair sticks protruding from his eye sockets. Then it was a waiting game. In a single day, I had kicked the ladder out from under Fallon's organization in Southie. Now it was time to watch them scramble. I knew Fallon was going to have his people scouring the city, looking for me. But this was no opening gambit. This was middlegame. And I was waiting for the pawns to open up. It was like an open market for me. Their muscle had no clue who they were looking for. And so when I decided to take one out, they almost never saw it coming. Over the course of the next week, the Irish found themselves short fourteen enforcers, and one additional shot caller. And I could see them getting desperate. This was my plan. This was how Fallon was going to fall. I stood in the kitchen of Fallon's Back Bay mansion, my second hand clothes dripping blood. The losses in the streets had caused the Irish a serious manpower shortage. Fallon had had to cut back on his security detail. The four men walking perimeter on a compound that spanned a city block hadn't exactly been difficult to dispatch. But for my plan to work it had to, by necessity, be bloody work. I had scouted the house for two days, counting heads. I knew he had just three more goons walking the halls of the three storey house. I found the first as he came out of a hall bathroom. He had just enough time to look surprised, before my K-Bar slid up under his ribs. I left him spreading a pool of blood in the hallway. Face down. Minus his silenced 9mm. Deep inside of me the Monster rumbled. This was HIS time. Keep moving Mason. We still have work to do. The second guard, I found staring out the window. I could tell he was watching for the patrol. I could tell this by the fact that he was reaching for his shoulder walkie. A fast blitz attack, my arm wrapped solidly around his throat, my K-Bar slid between his ribs. With a vicious twist, and pull of my arm, I heard his breath escape through his shredded lung. I continued to stab him as I lowered him to the floor. I needed this to look like butchery. I needed this to send the wrong message to the RIGHT people. As I stood over the guard's corpse the Monster snarled inside of me. One more Mason. One more, and he's ours! I knew where I'd find the third guard. He was Murphy Fallon's personal bodyguard. He'd be in the hall outside of Fallon's bedroom. I knew I had about three minutes before radio check when I reached the third floor east wing. I knew because the six foot two inch, two hundred pound wall of bad temper standing less than ten feet from me was checking his watch when I found him. Wait for it Mason. The Monster whispered. This is our time. I watched as he turned his head toward the large window at the end of the hall. The Monster roared its battle cry. NOW MASON! My charge wasn't silent. It didn't need to be. I was too close for him to get his gun out of his shoulder holster. I led in with my K-Bar, a feint, intended to make him open his body. He shifted to the right, sweeping his shoulder out of the way of my blade. His left arm sweeping up to block, and divert the blade. I stepped through the attack, accepting a hard blow from his elbow into my ribs, while allowing my left leg to slip between his. Looping my arm up and under his attacking arm, I dipped my shoulder and twisted my hips. In less than a second he landed on the floor, his head twisting at an unnatural angle to his shoulders. I followed through the flip with a savage forward thrust of my K-Bar, the cold forged steel slid easily up under his jaw. I felt an instant of resistance, and the blade punched home, through his brain pan. Fallon woke up as I pulled him from his bed by a hank of his hair, and threw him to the floor. Sitting on his chest, with his own guard's gun an inch from his face I growled, "Hello Murphy. You and I are about to have a LONG talk." *** The drive from Boston to the cabin was about three and a half hours. So, almost six hours after I pulled Fallon from his bed, I walked silently into the kitchen, and sat. Waiting. This was always the dangerous time. The Monster was slumbering inside of me, and I waited for the memories to crash over me. Strangely though, they never seemed to come. Every time I closed my eyes, the only things I heard, or felt, were the soft comforting touches of Tasha. As a little girl who would hug me, even though I didn't think I deserved it. Smiling when she saw me, even though her life was just as miserable as mine was. Tasha, as a woman, leaning on her elbow, as she looked down into my eyes. Her smile so radiant I thought it would blind me. And, most curious of all, a pair of dark, almond, eyes as they gazed at us both from the shadows. In those long hours in the dark, the memories never came. Morning found me sitting at the kitchen table, staring out the small window at the Shawangunks. I hadn't moved from my chair in several hours, and so Tasha was quite surprised to find me there when she walked in to start the coffee maker. She wasn't surprised for very long, as she jumped into my lap squealing "Mason!" as her arms wrapped tight around my neck. "When did you get back?" "Very early this morning." I replied, gently wrapping my arms around her trim figure. She looked at me, askance, and I knew she deserved an explanation. So, pulling her into a more comfortable position on my lap, I explained everything. I told her about sitting in the dark, after a contract, waiting for the wave. I explained to her, about the Monster, and how it had helped me survive all of those years of pain and isolation. Survive, but not really live. I watched her eyes widen, and a terrible sadness cloud her face, as it dawned on her, that for all of those years, I had used the pain, and trauma of my past to allow me to follow through with my contracts. Contracts she had arranged. And then I explained to her, how, since I had reconnected with her after all of those years, I had finally found a reason to LIVE, and not just survive. And I explained to her about why I had gone to Boston. "It wasn't for revenge, or for personal satisfaction. I went there for two reasons. First, you and I would never have a chance at a life with Fallon's contract hanging over me." Tasha silenced me with a fierce kiss, as I mentioned a life together. Her arms tightening around my neck. I continues after she once again rested her head on my shoulder. "And the second reason is, we need to know which Bratva has the hit out on me, AND has your encryption. I made Boston look like retaliation for the Russians I killed in Gloucester." I explained as I gently untangled myself from Tasha's embrace. "Now we just have to wait and see where the Irish hit back." I stood and walked toward the hallway, smiling gently at Tasha as I did. "Now I'm going to go surprise our other housemate." I said as I held up a slim manila folder. I walked down the hall to the furthest door. Laleh had taken the room at the back of the house. I think it was because she felt safer there. And, even though it had been weeks, the idea that she wanted to feel safer from me, still hurt. The only time we ever saw her leave her room was either to eat, or to use the bathroom. And the only time I had ever been IN her room, was to hand her the bag of clothes I bought her two days after arriving. But that didn't stop me from opening the door, and looking in on her sleeping form. I know I said it before, but I feel it needs to be said again, Laleh is a very beautiful girl. Maybe five foot seven, one hundred thirty five pounds. Her body is well built, and amazingly proportioned. Her breasts swell large, and high on her chest, and her hips flare, and then taper into a stunning pair of legs. Her eyes are almond shaped, and so dark they almost seem black, and her hair tumbles down past her shoulders in thick ringlets that are so black they shimmer. A year ago I would have left her in that hotel, and not have lost sleep over it. Here, now, the only thing that made me happier than knowing I had a hand in saving her life, despite how she acted toward me, was feeling Tasha's arms around me. I knew I was changing. And depending on who I listened to, the Monster, or the Voice, I was still figuring out if that change was a good thing. I sat, and waited in the chair across the room. Watching the sleep slowly evaporate from her. She sat up and stretched. Then saw me. A look of shock, and fear passed her face. Followed shortly by indignant outrage. I held up my hands in supplication and said "I'm not here to hurt you. Shit, you'd think that would'a sunk in by now." I held up the folder, and placed it on top of the dresser. "I only wanted to make sure you saw this. It's yours after all." And, still hurting a little inside, I walked out of her room. I didn't stop walking until I reached my own bed, and not bothering to get undressed, simply laid down and fell into oblivion. I woke up several hours later, to the sound of sobbing coming from the living room. It wasn't a sound I was accustomed to, so I went to investigate. I stopped in the shadows of the darkened hall, as I watched Tasha holding a shaking Laleh in her arms. The folder sitting open on the table, showed Laleh's passport, her Syrian birth certificate, and most disturbingly, the bill of sale her father had signed, when he sold her to the flesh broker for the Irish. A crying female was something entirely beyond my experience, so I stood back, and just watched. I sat and listened to Laleh tell Tasha her story. Of growing up, happy, on a date farm in Syria. Her father, uncles, and brothers all working the land. She told about her uncle's brother Ahmed, and about how he had seduced her at the age of seventeen. She had believed him when he told her he would marry her. I guess she was just as naive then, as she was distrustful now. Her oldest brother had been furious, and insisted on an honor killing for the "shame"she had brought to her family, but her father had decided that since she had wanted to act like a whore, she would become a whore. For one of the only times in my life, I felt sympathy for someone, as I listened to Laleh explain how the Irish had beaten and starved her for nearly a month. Until she had finally been faced with the choice of working for them, or being sent back to Syria. Where she faced death at the hands of her own family. I couldn't understand it myself, but for some reason, hearing her talk about how she had suffered, actually made me angry. Her words broke me out of my contemplation, as she spoke to Tasha. "...And then I see you with him, and he is such a dangerous man," her voice trembled as she spoke of me, "I thought he was trying to hurt you like the man he killed. And then I see how much you care for each other, and how gentle he is with you..." she sighed deeply as she wiped tears out of her eyes "It was exactly how Ahmed treated me, until he got what he wanted from me. You were so gentle to me. You cleaned my back, and made sure I was alright. I did not want you to suffer like I had." I guess, from a stilted point of view, her attitude made some sense after all. I was about to make my presence known, when she sobbed again, and leaned into Tasha's shoulder. "I treated him so poorly!" she groaned. I could actually FEEL the guilt in her voice as she spoke. "I saw him kill the man in the hotel. I saw what he did to the men with the guns who came after. He was like Azra'il made flesh. But he has never been anything but my protector. And I treated him no better than my family treated me!" her shaking shoulders were all the indication I needed to know she was weeping. And, for all of my strength, I was completely powerless in the presence of a crying woman. I watched as Tasha wrapped her arms around Laleh's shoulders, hugging her gently. I watched in awe, and wonder, as Tasha consoled the sobbing girl. And I knew it was time for me to leave when I heard her whisper, "I think it's time you knew more about Mason than the man you met in Gloucester." I knew this wasn't my place. So as Tasha began talking softly to Laleh, I walked silently back down the hallway. I was in the shed a few hours later, putting a new air filter in the Ford, when I heard the door open. I turned around to see Tasha, holding hands with a visibly shaken Laleh. Her eyes were ringed in tears, but behind those, I could clearly see a depth of understanding, and compassion, that I had only ever seen in the eyes of Tasha herself. As soon as she knew I had seen her, Laleh rushed in, and wrapped her arms around me. "I'm so sorry Mason!" she managed to get out, before she started crying again. I was more than a little shocked, and when I looked to Tasha she was smiling and nodding at me. Who was I to argue? I wrapped my arms around Laleh's shoulders, and just let her cry. From deep inside me, I felt the Monster grumble in resentment, while the Voice reminded me how good it felt to fight for something more than simple survival. Part Six: Unbreakable "It is not those who inflict the most, but those who endure the most who shall conquer in the end" - Kieran Doherty The next two weeks, life at the cabin was probably the most peaceful time I had ever experienced in my life. Tasha and Laleh discovered the joys of close female friendship. I would often hear them talking or laughing about nothing in particular. And it felt good to know these two women had each other to lean on. It gave me some assurance that if things ended badly for me, they would at least have each other. We also discovered that Laleh could cook! And I don't mean simple little meals. I mean the dishes she served up could have been featured in some of the best restaurants in some of the biggest cities in the world. And here they were sitting on a table, I had purchased second hand from a consignment shop, in a cabin that was eleven hundred square feet, in the middle of nowhere. Even I could see the irony there. Our days took on an ordered routine. Tasha buried herself in her computers, working tirelessly to find who had broken into The Operation. While I divided my time between training, maintenance around the cabin, and generally being the errand boy for two women who never seemed to NOT need me to do some little thing or another. To be perfectly honest, it was during those days that I realized, while the Monster would probably always be there, that I would never again be completely dependent on it, as I had once been. And the very idea of it made me feel extremely happy. And while all of this was going on, Laleh seemed to take control of the domestic side of the cabin. The cooking, and cleaning were, in short order, completely commandeered by that willful girl, and she reveled in those simple tasks like a fisherman casting into his favorite pond. And throughout it all, I kept my eyes open for any news of an Irish/Russian mob war in the northeast. And there was plenty of news on that front. Turns out that Fallon's organization took the calling cards I'd left at his house very seriously. So seriously in fact, that they'd called in reinforcements from back home. Over the course of two weeks the Knyazev Bratva had suffered some serious losses. Cargo ships had been looted. Business fronts for their illegal activities had been burned down. And there was even a report of a Nail Bomb being detonated at one of their whorehouses. The war between them was only in its opening moves, but it had the makings of a bloody conflict. Now all I had to do was wait for one side to win. If it was the Irish, my problem solved itself. If it was the Russians, then they would be so weak I'd be able to solve the matter on my own. It was snowing. Again. Upstate New York, in winter... It just never seemed to end. But I sat in the chair I had claimed as my own, I watched in quiet bemusement, as, for the first time since I was a young boy, I was struck by the beauty of it. I could tell she was there, simply by the smell of lilac and oranges, and smiled as I felt Tasha's fingertips trace across my shoulders. "Mason," she whispered softly. The sound of her voice... I couldn't place it. But there was something in her voice that gave me goosebumps, and started my heart racing. "Come with me. There's something I want you to see." It didn't dawn on me, until she was walking down the hall, that she was absolutely naked. It didn't take me long, to be eagerly following the dancing globes of that spectacular ass down the hall, when she stopped and turned to me, and draped her hands on my shoulders. I stopped and took in all of her glory, in a single glance. "Mason, before I take you back there I want you to understand something." She said in that amazing, smokey voice of hers. "I never told you this, but... What daddy and Marius did to me..." As soon as she said his name, a red haze began to descend on my mind. A rage like I had only rarely experienced began to build up within my chest. I took a long, deep breath to calm the fire raging inside of me as I continued to listen. "They hurt me Mason. In ways I didn't even understand..." I could hear, and feel the pain in her voice. I wanted to lash out. Destroy something. Anything. I wanted the world to know the pain this amazing woman had endured. I was trembling in barely contained fury. I had a woman who could see past my scars. And see through the Monster, to the core of me. Most importantly, I had finally accepted, that despite everything I had ever done, that I was still capable of love. Capable of BEING loved. And yet I had never bothered to ask about HER scars. And underneath all that rage, I finally felt something that I had never thought myself capable of feeling. I was ashamed. Ashamed for never bothering to consider what had happened to Tasha. I felt hot tears rolling down my cheeks, and did nothing to stop them. Tasha took a long breath as she reached up, and brushed the tears from my face. "Mason... The one thing I want to give you, I never can." Her voice cracked as she spoke. "I can never have babies... I can never have your... Our baby..." I finally understood. And the pain of that understanding was devastating. I tried to speak. To comfort her. To do SOMETHING. But she silenced me with a finger to my lips. "I can't have children Mason... But Laleh can..." I didn't know how to respond. I just stood there looking like I'd just been hit by lightning. "Uhh..." I never really got the chance to come up with something better to say, because Tasha cut me off again. "Mason, she's seen us together. She's seen the you I know. What do you think we talk about all the time? Mason, she WANTS to share what we have. She had no idea what love really looked like. She's seen it in us. And I think she feels it in herself too." her voice lowered to an almost inaudible whisper as she finished speaking, "I think we all feel it..." I really couldn't say anything. Not after a speech like that. And so, I just closed my mouth, took Tasha's hand, and nodded. She wasted absolutely no time in clamping down on my hand, and dragging me down the hall. Of course, the fact that she was dragging me down the hall naked, meant she wasn't getting much of a fight from me. We rounded the corner of the door frame into our bedroom, and I was forced to stop. I had known that Laleh was beautiful, but what I saw in that room, absolutely took my breath away. Laleh was kneeling on our bed, her knees held tightly together, with her hands resting in her lap. Her bronzed skin glowed in the low light of the single lamp in the corner of the room. Her face was downcast, and turned slightly to my left, and those dark DARK almond eyes cast a small glance in my direction. I watched as a blush slowly crept its way from her cheeks down to the tops of her breasts. All I could do was stare, and flip my gaze from Laleh, to Tasha, and back. "I love you Mason. I know you love me. But I also know she loves us both. We just need to be gentle with her Mason." Tasha whispered, as I felt her lightly tug me to the bed. I was simply too stunned to put up a fight. I let Tasha drag me across the room, while she began stripping my clothes off of me. By the time my knees hit the edge of my bed I was out of my tank top, and my pants were being pushed down my thighs. I fell backwards into the mattress, and looked up at both of these beautiful women. My eyes went from Laleh, to Tasha, and back. I didn't know where to look. And it was clear my confusion was a source of humor to both of them. Movement caught my eye, and I looked up at Laleh, as, slowly, she reached her hand out to trace the tribal wolf tattoo that started from the middle of my left chest, and spiraled its way over my shoulder, following the contour of my upper arm. A small smile played its way across her lips. Until she felt them. The circular burn scars that lay beneath the dark ink on my skin. She leaned in to inspect her discovery, and reeled back, gasping. I grabbed her hand, and gently brought it to the ugly maze of scars on my face. Slowly I traced them, using her fingertips. Guiding her through my history of pain gently. I watched tears shroud her eyes. And then she shocked me as she leaned in, and very deliberately, kissed my scars. "You are stronger than any man I have ever known Mason." Her breathy, throaty voice came to my ear in a whisper. Her voice was like liquid sex dripping in my ear, as I felt her soft, smooth thigh slide across my stomach. The contact broke me from my trance, and my hands snaked their way up her thighs. I let my hands wrap around her waist, and that got a low moan from her, as I watched her eyes close in pleasure. I let my hands continue their exploration of her body, and ran them slowly up her back, pulling her down to my face. "Are you sure?" I whispered lightly. She answered me with a kiss as fierce as any I had ever had with Tasha. "Show me what love can feel like my Almalak Alharis. My Guardian Angel." she whispered hotly, as her teeth claimed my bottom lip in a gentle nip. It was then that I felt it. A small hand. A hand I was so intimately familiar with. And it was wrapping around my engorged cock, as it aimed at the entrance to Laleh's steamy, wet, lightly furred pussy. I think we both hissed as she pushed herself down my length. She was tight, and warm. And silky smooth. I could readily accept the fact while this DID feel amazing, with Tasha it would always be just a LITLLE bit better. But fuck me, if making love to Laleh wasn't absolute rapture, it was a damn site close to it. My hands slid back down her spine, until I was gripping her waist, and with a slow, determined pressure, I lifted her up my rigid, twitching cock. And with the same careful speed, I slowly lowered her to meet my rising hips. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but what I got was a shock of a life time. The moment I felt Laleh's hips meet mine, she began grinding on top of me. The small circular motions causing a sensation I wasn't even aware was possible. I felt the hard little lump of her cervix roll around the head of my cock. And when she completed her third circuit something changed. Laleh's hips nudged forward, and suddenly her whole body went rigid. Tremors ran up and down her body, as I watched her mouth drop open. Up until this moment, my experiences with women were either a contrived lie with Mina, or the mutual beauty I had with Tasha. I was completely unaware that a woman could cum just from deep stimulation. But I was also stupidly happy, that Laleh should get to experience it. I suddenly felt a set of fingers entwine with my own, and when I looked, I saw the light nut brown skin of Tasha's hands contrasting against mine. "God that was beautiful to watch!" she whispered, as her hands dragged mine up to cup Laleh's breasts. I heard them both groan, as I felt those cocoa brown nipples bore into the palms of my hands. Laleh began a gentle rocking motion , letting about half of my aching cock slide out, and then back into the steaming furnace of her dripping wet snatch. I opened my eyes just as Tasha's face moved over mine. Her hands cupped my face, as she kissed me. I moaned into that powerful kiss, as her tongue wrestled with mine. Laleh it appeared, was incredibly sensitive. I couldn't believe what I was feeling from her. I wasn't sure if she was experiencing continuous, back to back orgasms, or if she was simply riding a wave of one long orgasm. But either way, the quick, short thrusts she had set but were soon replaced by chaotic, jerky movements. She seemed to have no fixed rhythm. One second she was rocking on my erection, grinding her pelvis into mine. The next she was bucking, and jerking, with me barely able to keep her under control. I opened my eyes, and gasped at what I was seeing. Tasha's petite, mahogany toned hands, were cupping Laleh's firm, round breasts. Her thumbs rolling the stiff erect nipples around the second knuckle of each index finger. I squeezed my eyes shut in ecstasy and when I opened them Laleh had her head turned to her right, I groaned as I watched her kissing Tasha. Not just any kiss though. Her left arm was wrapped around Tasha's head, holding her tight in an embrace, as their tongues dueled for dominance. Tasha's hand was busily fondling Laleh's heaving tits. While Laleh's right hand was just as busy exploring the shaved expanse of Tasha's pussy. It was too much for me. I am unashamed to admit it. The idea of this ever happening had never crossed my mind. And now, that it was happening in front of my own eyes... I couldn't help myself. I latched my hands onto Laleh's hips, dragging her forcefully down onto me. At the same instant driving my hips up to meet her. She broke her kiss with Tasha as a groan of pure animal lust was torn from her throat. "Maaasssoooonnnnn!" Her moan was like music to my ears. And to judge by Tasha's mirrored response, hers as well. "Iilhi Mason!" I lost track of what she was trying to say, as she suddenly slipped back into Arabic. I wasn't sure if she was even aware of her transition into Arabic, but knowing I had done that to her was all I could handle. I thrust my cock into that amazingly tight cunt, in a rapid beat, and unloaded into her. I lost count of the sheer number of pulses, as I fired rope, after of white hot rope of cum into her. But the last thing I do remember as both Laleh, and Tasha, curled up in the crook of my arms, was the Voice. You won't just survive Mason. You finally get to live. For the first time in so long that I couldn't even remember, I dreamed without terror. There were no painful memories. Nothing from my past coming through to haunt me. The Monster stirred, but there was nothing for it to grasp. I dreamed of things that might be. Of a life where I was finally free to be happy. Of beautiful, smiling faces, filled with love. I didn't get to enjoy them long enough. I woke up with a slight start, as I felt a wet heat envelop the head of my cock. I glanced down my body, just in time to watch my entire length disappear down Tasha's throat. "Hmmmmm" her moan vibrated through my entire being. I felt the sensations of her sucking my dick through my entire body, and it didn't take long for my body to catch up with her. I felt her gag slightly as blood flooded into my cock. And as she pulled away my dick stood proudly in front of her face. "Shhh" her whisper was barely audible in the still air of the bedroom. "Don't wake her up Mason..." Her eyes flashed to Laleh's sleeping form on my right, as she crawled up my body, and, taking my cock in her hand, slowly sank that absolutely glorious pussy down onto me. As soon as her ass was resting on my thighs I knew. Yes. Regardless of the passion making love to Laleh inspired in me. There would, and always will be something special about this amazing woman. My Tasha. A woman who fell in love with me, even when I thought I would never be worthy of being loved. Who never stopped looking for me. Even when I was all but lost, even to myself. The feelings she inspired in me, combined with just how perfectly we seemed to fit together. There would never be a comparison. My hands wrapped around Tasha's waist, and guided her, in short, slow moves, up and down my cock. Her hips swiveled slowly in time with our movements. Her small gasps punctuating the light slap of her ass connecting with my hips. "Mason..." she whispered hoarsely "Oh God Mason..!" I finished the thought for her "I love you Tasha!" I groaned softly, as her back arched. Her eyes shot open. Her mouth hung open in a soundless scream. And with one last thrust I erupted. Bliss. There is no other word. My mind went white. There was no sound. There was no sight. There was only the single sensation of bliss. Feeling Tasha's body molding into mine. My arms wrapped around her. Simply. It was perfect. I felt Tasha breathing deeply, her small, firm breasts crushed against my chest, as the world began to dim around me. When I heard one last whisper. "You are both beautiful together" from my right. And I knew no more. The next week brought news on both fronts of our dilemma. In a series of brutal, and bloody clashes, the Irish Mob, and the Knyazev Bratva's war boiled over. The final result was that the man responsible for the contract on me, Anatoli Bresniach, found himself on the wrong side of a car bomb. The Irish had effectively crippled the Russian's hold on the Northeast. And suddenly, with no one to pay for my head, my contract was no longer an issue. The other piece of news came in the form of a VERY frightened Tasha. I had been sitting in the kitchen, talking with Laleh. Learning some of the happier details of her childhood. And sharing some of my own with her. The bittersweet conversation came to an end when Laleh looked over my shoulder, and went quiet. Her eyes widened in concern, and I turned to find Tasha standing in the hall. Her eyes were haunted, and she held a slim folder in her trembling hand. "I found him Mason..." she whispered, her voice wavering. The folder she had been holding was a fucking shit show. All it contained were a photo, a lanky man in a surplus army jacket probably six one, one hundred seventy pounds, greasy hair under a knit cap, and a beard that looked like it hadn't been groomed in a couple of months. A name, along with a Technician Number; David Chase TN# 774509A(Excised). And a list of work, both targets AND collateral damage. Apparently he had been Tasha's fourth acquisition for The Operation. He had been brutal, and efficient. But he had also been a savage. It didn't matter who he killed, or why. If his target was surrounded by his family, they all had an equal chance of winding up dead. It seemed he had only two vices in the world, and killing wasn't his first choice. Tasha had been forced to remove him from The Operation when she discovered that he had been moonlighting in order to feed his first love. Heroin. That's probably why the Russians wound up with her information. They controlled the heroin market. Chase's jacket read like a cast of extras from a low budget horror movie. There were twenty contracts filed in his ledger. But there were over seventy kill reports in the file. The man I was now studying, I knew, was the man I could have quite easily become. Deep inside of me, the Monster rumbled in grudging acknowledgment of that fact. And right along side of it was the Voice. Reminding me that I had spared myself that in the simple act of saving someone when it would have been easier to have left her there to die. From the small amount of information on Chase as a person he was smart. Probably borderline genius. And all signs seemed to point to the fact that her was also a borderline psychopath. He was ruthless, and dispassionate. Right up until he had his goal in sight. Then it seemed like all hell broke loose. He didn't have a preferred weapon. It seemed he would use whatever he could get his hands on, guns, knives, you name it. But he had an extreme fondness for killing with his hands. His file also included some information that made me hesitate. I had sworn, so many years ago, that I would NEVER set foot in Poughkeepsie again. And Chase made his home smack in the middle of the seat of the worst memories of my life. The saying is, you can never go home again, and the saying is right. Going back, wasn't going home. Home had become wherever two smiling women, whom seemed able to love me regardless of anything that went before, decided it was going to be. Between Tasha's cut of the contracts from The Operation, and more than two thirds of what I had earned being planted in investment funds, home was going to be wherever the wanted. Tasha was not pleased when I told her that it was time to end this. "You can't do this Mason!" she had begged me, the tears in her eyes cutting into me like barbed wire. "Mason, you don't understand! He's an animal!" her voice choked at the thought. "I can't lose you Mason... WE can't lose you! We can go anywhere we want Mason. Anywhere! Just, please, DON'T do this!" But I had to. This had to end. If The Operation shut down tomorrow, I would be fine with it. My life now seemed to revolve around how best to make two amazing women who shared my life happy. But from everything I read about Chase, if he wasn't stopped, he would NEVER stop. And so, for the first time in fifteen years, I found myself heading towards Poughkeepsie. And deep inside me, I felt the Monster begin to awaken. My home town hadn't changed much. Sure old shops I remembered, and locations I could recall might not be there anymore. But the city, a stagnant cesspool of desperation and decrepit decay, remained the same. The corners I recalled Amanda frequenting, still sported the wasted whores who sold their bodies for drugs. Along with the wannabe gangsters who sold them. New faces. Same old story. And suddenly I found myself wallowing in the pain of a past that still refused to go away. But this time I heard both the Monster, and the Voice. They seemed to speak to me both at once. Let them come Mason. You survived. You've always survived. They made us strong. It didn't take me long to find David. His three room shit hole sat on the third floor of what used to be The Pickwick Pub. The wick had apparently closed down, because now it was one of those trendy little dive bars designed to draw the hipster crowd from Marist College, and the surrounding area. He wasn't hard to spot from across Main Street. If possible, he looked even worse than his file photo. His eyes were sunken, and ringed by dark circles. He seemed to drift from one group of drunk college kids to another. Managing to fit in with each group independent of the last. My assessment of him seemed pretty close to the mark. He exhibited all the traits of a psychopath. But his eyes betrayed him. Behind his eyes, I could see an animal stalking their prey. It happened quickly, one moment he was joking with a group of giggly co-eds, the next he was stalking down the sidewalk, following a staggering group frat boys. I knew what his plans were, simply by the way he carried himself. Yes the kids were likely to get robbed, maybe bloodied up a bit, but they were going to live. I lived with a junkie for most of my childhood. I knew what his motivation was, and it wasn't killing. I used the time wisely. I figured it was about a twenty minute walk to Marist campus, so Chase was gonna need about 10 to find a nice quiet spot for a mugging. Factor in the walk to one of his dealers, maybe another twenty minutes and he'd be walking through the door. The shortage of heroin in the region since the Irish and Russians had gone to war, gave me a slightly cushioned window of time. It didn't take much effort to pick the lock of the little slice of misery he called an apartment. I ran my K-Bar along the edge of the door without opening it more than an inch. At the bottom of the frame I found the wire. I didn't cut it, just followed it with my fingers until I found the hook at the top, just beyond the edge of the door. When the door swung open, I noticed the shotgun mounted to the side of the frame. One wrong step, and someone was going home cut in half. It didn't take me long to unload it, and re-trigger the trap wire. No sense in telling Chase someone got inside his little sanctuary. And in the dark, waiting, I felt the Monster come awake. I didn't stop them. I let the pain of my life wash over me. I basked in it. Letting those memories suffuse every fiber of my being. Letting the Monster feed. I opened my eyes as I heard the heavy steps in the hall. Inside me the Monster rumbled. I felt the all too familiar tug within, wanting to charge in and destroy. But I waited. I waited for Chase to come to me. The door swung open, and I waited. David made it into the kitchen, and I waited. He turned to the foul smelling wreck he called a bedroom. The Monster roared inside of me. NOW MASON! And I exploded into motion. I led in with a kick to his stomach, bringing my knee to my chest, and driving forward with all the force I could manage. I outweighed Chase by a good seventy pounds, and I was also not itching for a fix, so the kick did more than I had anticipated, as Chase landed nearly six feet from where I kicked him. I closed quickly, not wanting him to get his bearings. He was much faster than I had imagined. He rolled with the impact of the fall, finding a knee, and was on his feet before I could get to him. I slashed diagonally with my K-Bar, aiming for a hip to shoulder attack. Chase rolled his hips, cross stepping his feet. The slice missed, as his left arm blocked at my wrist, guiding my attack up and away. I felt the danger a split second after it was too late. He slid his leading foot forward, crossing up my legs, preventing me from pivoting away from his attack. The punch landed just beneath my right ribs. I have spent most of my life simply absorbing punishment. I had thought pain was no longer something I needed to worry about. I thought wrong. The impact of that punch was unlike anything I have ever experienced. For a moment it felt like my entire body had stopped working. I couldn't breathe. My limbs weren't responding. And the only sensation I could register was pain. A pain like I had never imagined. I saw the second attack coming, and could not do anything to stop it. Chase wrenched my wrist, my K-Bar tumbling from my nerveless fingers, as his elbow delivered a crushing impact to the side of my head. The jarring impact snapped something inside of me. My senses came crashing back to life. Sliding my left foot behind my body weight, I spun my hips away from Chase, using the motion to drive my elbow into his stomach. I continued the spin. My right hand closing a moment before the back of my hand connected with his face. The crackle of snapping cartilage telling me his nose was now broken. I used the wave of disorientation to loop a wide left hook into the slacked jaw. The impact snapping his head at an obscene angle. It should have been devastating, but Chase, it seemed, was just as good as I was. He rolled his shoulders with the force of the blow, spinning away from me as his knee seemed to buckle. His spin didn't stop however, and he came to his feet too quickly for me to close again. I felt white hot pain in my side. Looking down, my K-Bar was sticking out of my stomach at an oblique angle. When had he gotten my knife? How had I not seen it? And when had I fallen to my knees? I looked up as David Chase, the man who had tried to destroy the first person who had ever meant anything to me, walked calmly toward his front door. "When I finish here," he muttered through a mouthful of blood, "I'm gonna find the fucking cunt that sent you. And she's gonna beg to die before I'm done." he said, as he snatched the shotgun from it's mount. Deep inside of me. Beyond the pain. Beyond the disbelief. The Monster, and the Voice both roared in an world moving duet. GET UP MASON! MOVE! KEEP FIGHTING MASON! I don't know where I found the strength. I don't recall getting to my feet. I can't remember how I suddenly had my K-Bar in my hand. But when Chase turned back to me with the gun in his hands, I was standing, growling deep in my throat. The click of an empty chamber seemed to stun him for a moment. A moment was all I needed. I felt both the Monster, and the Voice as they unleashed a fire within me I had never experienced before. I let them guide me. My left hand slapped the barrel of the gun out and to the right. As I slashed hard, and fast with my right. I felt the resistance for just a second, and then the gun fell from his hand, as the tendons in his wrist were severed. Stepping forward and reversing my attack I slashed at his face, but the fight hadn't quite fled David yet. He snapped his good had up, accepting a deep gash in the process, slapping the knife out of my hand again. I felt the Monster roar inside of me. Reacting out of pure frustration, I latched both arms around his body, and drove my forehead into his already broken nose. Ignoring the groan that escaped from his throat, I heaved and twisted. Picking him up off of his feet, I drove him back first into the floor. Snapping back to a sitting position on top of his chest I rained down hell. I don't know how long I sat on top of him, or how many times I hit him. But when I stopped, his face was a bloody wreck. Chase's broken nose was now twisted and flattened against his cheek A gash ran from the corner of his mouth all the way to his left ear. The ruined face stared up at me, eyes swelling shut as he choked on his own blood, he smiled up at me, and spoke. "You'll never stop me..." a wet, racking cough cut him short, "I'm gonna find her..." "No. You won't." I growled as my hands latched onto the sides of his head. "You'll never get a chance to hurt her." There was no emotion in my voice. I was no longer angry at this ruined, broken, thing. David Chase had ceased to mean anything to me besides a means to an end. His death was the last piece I needed to ensure a life I had never imagined possible before. He was simply my last obstacle. And with no more malice than I would have displayed in stepping on a bug, I drove my thumbs into his eye sockets. He fought even then. Heaving and convulsing beneath me. I locked my elbows, and heaved backward, dragging his head off the floor, then drove forward. I felt a hot gush of fluids erupt over my wrists. And with a final gasping sigh, David Chase laid still. I remember pulling myself back to my feet. I remember pressing a torn scrap of cloth into the leaking wound in my side. And I recall stumbling down Main street to my truck. There are flashes of the hour and change drive back to the cabin. And the terrified screams of both Tasha and Laleh. And I don't remember anything else for a long time. *** I woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains of the bedroom. It was blinding as it reflected off of the snow outside. Looking over to the side of the bed, I saw two very worried faces, easing into relief as my eyes opened. "I told you I'd always find a way back..." I whispered hoarsely through a throat parched from thirst. "Who's a guy gotta kill to get a drink around here?" Apparently my attempt at humor was not well received, but it DID get me a drink of cold, delicious, water. I had apparently been asleep for nearly three days. The first day had had both of my ladies worried if I'd ever wake up. According to Laleh, who surprisingly, had a wealth of knowledge on the treatment of very bad injuries, passed down from her grandmother, I had very nearly bled out before she could get my stab wound stitched shut. The K-Bar had punctured my abdominal wall. Thankfully it had not punctured my intestines, but that was more of a miracle than anything else. It had taken me three days to simply be strong enough to wake up, and according to her, it was going to take me several weeks before I was back to my old self. As she was telling me this, I leaned back into my pillow, a slow smile spreading across my face. Laleh stopped speaking when she noticed my smile. "What is funny about this Mason?" she asked tartly "Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm smiling because we're free. All of us." My words seemed to rock both Laleh and Tasha back on their heels. I smiled slightly at both of them, "You two need to start thinking about where we're going to be making home..." The happy kissing of both women was worth every second of pain from the wound in my stomach. And deep inside of me, I felt and heard something I could never have imagined. The Monster growled quietly. You've done good Mason. But now you have more good to do. Epilogue "Serenity is the tranquil balance of heart and mind" - Harold W. Becker The sound of gleeful laughter broke me out of my quiet contemplation of the azure expanse of the Caribbean Sea. I turned in my lounge chair and watched in quiet happiness as Tasha and Laleh rolled in the grass, playing happily with our children. Our four year old son Alexander tumbled, and jumped in absolute joy as he climbed on top of, and over both of them. Our six year old daughter Mara, was trying to act like the older, more mature sibling, and failing miserably, as unrestrained laughter seemed to escape from her every time her younger brother grabbed hold of her hands, and pulled her into the pile of laughing bodies in the grass. A long time ago, I would have tried dissecting the scene in front of me. Looking for what it was that made it a false front. But now. So many years removed from the Monster's presence I could finally appreciate it for what it was. Happiness. In one of it's most pure forms. I had never believed I would have ever been lucky enough to be blessed like I now am. I have found that, not only am I capable of being loved. I found that I am capable of loving. When the Monster ruled me, it was only about the basest form of survival. I thought I had experienced the greatest of joys when I realized that first Tasha, and then Laleh, had been able to see through the mask of scars, and pain, and violence I had constructed for myself. I had thought very wrong. My world became complete the first time I felt the warm, wriggling bundle of my daughter placed gently in my arms. And then, two years later I felt that joy increase by an order of magnitude when the calm, serious, face of my newborn son peeked up at my battered face from his swaddling blanket. My ability to feel joy, and love, and most importantly peace, has grown to a point I would have never imagined. The past we all left behind in the mountains of Upstate New York never clouds my mind. Not when I have the love of four smiling faces looking at me from the grass. Little Mara came running up to me, her little hand wrapping around my fingers as she tried pulling me from my seat. "C'mon daddy!" her joy at the game was contagious as I smiled down at her "You gotta play too!" I let her pull me to my feet just as Alexander charged in, grabbing my other hand "Daddy gotta play! Daddy gotta play!" he insisted. I allowed both of my children to pull me down into the pile growing on the grass. And as my arms encircled all of the people whom I loved most in the world, I knew. This was the reason I had endured all that I had. So that the love I could now feel for all four of them, would mean as much as it does to me. And from somewhere deep inside of me, I heard the Voice for the last time. Well done Mason. Very well done indeed.