Message-ID: <14715eli$9808232220@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/14715.txt>
From: "Loch Raveena" <lraveena@hotmail.com>
Subject: New: "Found" Parts 2-4 (m/f/shooting)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Content-Type: text/plain
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <19980823235048.23743.qmail@hotmail.com>

"FOUND"  by Loch Raveena 

Part 2

"He's always been dependable," said Jerome, a little apprehensive. His 
eyes kept shifting from Mr. Morris to the two burly guys on either side 
of him and to the one at the door behind him. "He's never stealed 
anything, um, u-until now, dat is."

Mr. Morris smiled at Jerome. "A Hawaiian kid, you say?" "Yeah," said 
Jerome. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "One a dem colledge 
kiids. You know, dey our best customahs." 

"But how did he get a whole kilo, Jerome?" Mr. Morris' smile still 
hadn't faded, but his blue eyes had turned to steel. "How did he get a 
whole kilo?"

Jerome squirmed in his chair. "I dunno, Mr. Morris. I-I dunno. He axed 
for da regulah amount, and afta he left, I saw dat da bags was gone."

"Okay, Jerome, okay," said Mr. Morris. "You say the college - the one 
out on 21rst?"

"Yeah, dat one. Dat's right, dat's da one. He's one a dem Hawaiians."

Mr. Morris looked down at his desk, contemplating. He then picked up his 
phone and dialed a number. "Morris here. Get Fric & Frac out over to the 
college - we're lookin' for a Hawaiian kid. Can't be too many of 'em. 
Find him. He's a regular in sector 8." He hung up the phone just as 
quickly, then stared at Jerome.

"Okay, Jerome, we'll find him. And will find the stuff, too…" Mr. Morris 
sudenly leaned forward and whispered, his eyes staring deep into 
Jerome's, "…if he's got it."

Jerome squirmed in his chair some more. "'m I free to go?"

Mr. Morris leaned back in his high-back chair, his hands under his chin. 
"Of course, Jerome, of course. It was very smart of you to come in here 
and tell us this. It takes balls," he said with a sparkle, "to admit 
that someone got the better of you. We'll take care of it. I like a guy 
with balls."

Mr. Morris continued to stare at Jerome with his cold blue eyes. Jerome 
stood up from his chair and walked to the door. The
distance to the door seemed like a million miles, and he felt Mr. 
Morris' eyes burning into his back every step of the way. The big guy at 
the door stared at Jerome just as seriously, briefly blocking his path 
before smiling and stepping aside.

Jerome didn't think he'd make it to the door, and when he got there, he 
stiffened, expecting a bullet to come tearing through his back.

When he made it outside of Mr. Morris' office, and the door closed, he 
breathed a huge sigh of relief. He began to laugh to himself at his 
paranoia even as his legs continued to shake as he walked down the hall 
and out of the building. What a chump! he thought.

It wasn't long before the phone on Mr. Morris' desk rang. He picked it 
up and immediately began taking notes. He quietly put the phone back 
onto its receiver and looked at Jimmy "Bigs" and Donnie "Smalls." 

"Found," he said. He tore the note from his pad of paper and handed it 
to Bigs. "Get my stuff back," he said, his eyes sparkling.

Bigs looked at the note and saw that it was an address. He took out his 
pistol and began screwing a long silencer onto the end of it. Smalls did 
the same. They looked at Mr. Morris, but he had his back turned to them 
already. He was leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the window 
sill looking out at the city below. A cloud of smoke lifted above the 
chair as he apparently lit a cigar.

"You're still here?" asked the back of the chair. With that, Bigs and 
Smalls turned and left Mr. Morris to his city and his cigar.

"The kid was lying," said Smalls as Bigs negotiated traffic as they 
neared 21rst Street. "How do you know?" asked Bigs. "You saw him, the 
fucking little prick was scared to death. Now Mr. Morris wants us to go 
and frighten these college kids."

"Waddyamean, frighten?" asked Bigs. "What? You expect us to blow away 
innocent kids?" protested Smalls. "Who's innocent?" asked Bigs, 
rhetorically. "Look," said Bigs, "when will ya fucking learn? We aint 
philosophers - we just do what Mr. M asks, okay?"

"Mr. M said 'bring me my stuff,'" said Smalls. "He didn't say 'go shoot 
some college kids.'" Bigs found a parking spot and turned
off the car, then looked at Smalls "Listen, kid, you're giving me a 
fucking headache. Mr. M gave us an address and says get me my stuff. I 
aint goin' in there asking cutesy questions! Let's just get the stuff 
and get the fuck out of here, if it's alright with you,
that is!"

"Okay, Bigs, okay, " said Smalls. "Good," said Bigs, "now shut the fuck 
up and let's do this." "Okay," said Smalls. Smalls had to get the last 
word in all the time. It really irritated Bigs to no end. "I said shut 
up - not a fucking word!" boomed Bigs. "Alright, already!" said Smalls, 
again trying to out duel Bigs for the last word. "Fuck! Can't you just 
shut the fuck up?" screamed Bigs. "Sure" said Smalls, smiling. "Goddamn 
it!" yelled Bigs as he pulled out his gun and put it to Smalls' head. 
"Not a fucking word! Alright?" Smalls looked at Bigs and winked. "Okay," 
he said.

Bigs stared at Smalls. The little prick wasn't backing down. "Aw, shit," 
said Bigs as he put his gun back in his holster. "You're a
fucking pain in the ass."

The two walked into the apartment and took the elevator up to the eighth 
floor without another word. They were professionals, and this part of 
their job required an all-business attitude. 

They walked down the hall until they got to room 814, just like the note 
said. Both took out their pistols with silencers and Bigs
knocked on the door.

There was music in the room - grinding punk music that aggravated Bigs' 
headache even further. "Hey, shut up, Maria's here!" said a voice 
inside. The music was turned down and the door opened.

An athletic boy with shoulder-length blonde hair stood in the door 
dressed in baggy green trousers with no shirt on. Bigs lifted his pistol 
to the boy's firm strong chest and pulled the trigger without a word.

A muffled 'pop!' filled their ears - it was the air pressure more than 
the sound. The kid flew backwards as though he were hit by a truck and 
landed in the middle of the room like a rag doll, his dead blue eyes 
staring off into oblivion. A large red hole appeared just to the left of 
his left nipple, and blood welled up from it, a line running from the 
wound down the side of his chest and to the carpet. He never even 
twitched.

A startled youth jumped up from the room's sofa and turned just in time 
to catch a bullet from Bigs' pistol right in his middle
section. As the boy's sleek body spun in the air and crumbled to the 
floor in a violent spasm, Bigs realized that the kid was the
'Hawaiian' that Jerome had mentioned. The boy vomited blood before his 
body went still, his eyes opened in surprise. A thin line of blood 
trickled out of the corner of his mouth. The kid had dreadlocks, Smalls 
saw, and thought about how cool he looked. I'm getting fucking 
dreadlocks, he thought to himself, as he gazed at the dead boy. As soon 
as my grows long enough!

Another youth came strolling into the room dressed in - a baseball 
uniform. Halfway dressed, that is. He was wearing only his
baseball trousers and cleets and a cutoff t-shirt with the number 23 on 
it. Smalls brought up his own pistol and aimed for the boy's exposed 
sleek belly and fired. 

A blue hole suddenly appeared on the athlete's smooth stomach just above 
his incredibly protruding belly button - Smalls had never seen a belly 
button like that before! - and the kid was tossed backwards onto the 
floor.

The boy writhed on the floor, his hands cradling his narrow stomach, his 
navel protruding from between his hands. Smalls stood over top of him. 
"Where's the stuff?" he asked. "W-what?" the boy asked, his face ashen 
with pain and shock. "The fucking stuff! The stuff, damn it, the stuff!"

The boy choked and jerked, coughing up blood which ran down his smooth 
cheek. His breathing grew extremely harsh and erratic, his whole body 
heaving with each breath. His hands slipped from his belly and to his 
sides, the fingers twitching. He was not going to be any help at all, 
realized Smalls. He walked into the kitchen then and began to open and 
close drawers and cupboards as he listened to the athlete's gurgling. He 
tore the whole kitchen apart as Bigs worked in the other room.

Bigs appeared in the kitchen's doorway, the dying boy at his feet. 
"Anything?" he asked. "No," said Smalls, "you?"

Bigs produced a brown paper bag stacked with marijuana. "Just grass," he 
said, "tossing the bag to Smalls. "No coke."

The two had searched thoroughly and found no coke. They had not done 
what Mr. M had asked - they came and they searched, but there was no 
coke. 

The two walked into the living room and viewed their handiwork. The boy 
in the cutoff shirt was dead now, his eyes staring aimlessly up at the 
ceiling. Smalls looked his belly button again. Wow! Why can't I have one 
like that?

All three boys had died with their eyes open. All three were extremely 
cool looking in death, thought Smalls. The Hawaiian kid's stomach was 
exposed, too. He was slender and tanned, his navel small and shallow. 
The shirtless boy was also very athletic, thin and sleek. The boy died 
before he even hit the ground. The bubbly bullet hole in his chest was 
enthralling. Smalls shook his head. He then looked at the athlete with 
the cutoff t-shirt one more time - the one he had shot. "Look at that 
belly button!," said Smalls. He waked over to the athlete's corpse and 
bent over. He pressed the navel with his finger like he were pressing an 
elevator button. It was like touching rubber. More blood flowed from the 
dead boy's open mouth when he pressed on his belly. 

The kids looked like nice boys. They were just in the wrong place at the 
wrong time - Smalls was convinced that they were innocent. It was 
amazing how fate worked, said Smalls. These kids were just living life 
and having a good time one minute, then lay dead the next.

"Shut the fuck up!" said Bigs. "What did I tell you? We aint 
philosophers!" he said as they stepped out of the elevator.

A girl passed them as they headed for the door. "I told you so!" said 
Smalls, but Bigs' mind was elsewhere. He was looking at the girl. 
"What?" he said as he shook her from his gaze.

"The stuff," said Smalls. "I told you so - the boy was lying and we just 
blew away innocent kids."

"Shit happens," said Bigs as started the car. "Shit!" he said, suddenly. 
"What the fuck?!" asked Smalls. "That girl! Remember,
the kid said something like 'Mary's here!' or 'Marie's here!'" said 
Bigs. "Remember?"

"Yeah," said Smalls, not getting it. "So?" "So she was the girl they 
were waiting for!" "How do you know?" asked Smalls. "When will you 
fucking learn to not question me?" asked Bigs, rhetorically, once again. 
"Okay, so she's the girl - so what?"

"So she fucking saw us, you idiot!" Bigs explained as they climbed out 
of their car again.

Their job wasn't quite finished yet.


Part 3

Smalls never met a woman like her before. Usually he would have to lie 
about his profession. He would jokingly tell people that he was a 
'cleaning man' or a 'fix-it' guy. But Lisa had seen him in action and 
she was excited! Nevermind that he blew away her surfer boyfriend. The 
sight of her dreadlocked boyfriend lying dead on the floor with his dark 
eyes staring aimlessly up at the ceiling and blood coming out of his 
mouth also excited her. She was one in a million. Make that a billion.

Smalls couldn't get her off of his mind. "…and I told him to shut the 
fuck up - Hey!" said Bigs, "listen to me when I'm fucking talking!" 
"What?" asked Smalls with a look of confusion on his face. "You're 
thinking about that broad again? Sheeeiiiit! Man, you got yourself one 
fucking cuckoo woman!" said Bigs with a laugh. "Will she share?"

"Fuck you!" said Smalls. "You know, I think this is it for me. We're 
like Bonnie and Clyde." "Bonnie and Clyde? Try the Adams Family! You're 
the weirdest fucking couple I've ever seen. And what's with your fucking 
hair?"

"Dreadlocks, Bigs, dreadlocks. It takes awhile to come in, you know." 
"See what women do? They fuck up your head!" noted Bigs.

They parked the car a block away. It was the seedy part of town, but 
Bigs was 6'5 and a good 270 pounds, so they weren't worried about being 
fucked with. Smalls was average build and slender. He let Bigs do the 
swaggering as they walked. Both of them had their fingers resting on 
steel, however. Better safe than sorry. In his other hand, Bigs carried 
a black bag that resembled a medical bag. He looked like a doctor making 
a house call in the middle of the fucking Bronx.

They came to the address that Mr. M had given them. It was a dilapidated 
brownstone building that looked like it was ruined in
a previous war and never repaired. 

They kicked in the door like they were cops and ran up the stairs and 
burst through another door. Jerome was startled by the loud banging of 
the doors and footsteps and sudden activity. His head was spinning, 
though, and he felt removed from his body - no pain or feeling, just 
complete ecstasy as he floated in the room. Even the sudden activity 
seemed distant, like he was watching a movie.

It was two guys, one as big as a house and the other one a skinny 
motherfucker. Jerome's slowed brain finally made the connection - it was 
the two guys with Mr. Morris. This turn of events struck him as very 
funny - EVERYTHING was funny when you've smoked as much crack as he has 
- not to mention dropping acid! It was probably the acid that turned 
every event no matter how inconsequential into a profound 
earth-shattering revelation - or a hilarious one. In this case, Bigs and 
Smalls were hilarious.

"Heeeey, I know you guys!" said Jerome with a big smile that was full of 
teeth. "Hey, these are…are…my friends. These are my friends," he said in 
a slow and happy and slurred voice, introducing Bigs and Smalls with a 
slow wave of his hand to his three friends who also were all smiles and 
damn glad to meet them.

"They're fucking high as a kite," said Smalls, putting away his gun. 
"Yeah, with Mr. M's stuff!" Bigs put his gun away, too, and opened the 
black bag. He produced a rope with a noose on the end of it and handed 
it to Smalls.

"Looky what we've brought for you, Jerome," said Smalls, waving the rope 
before his dilated pupils. "Hey man, ya brought me a tift…a gift. You 
alwright, my man, you alwright."

"Glad we brought enough rope, Bigs," said Smalls as he watched Bigs 
remove three more ropes with nooses on their ends. "I told you, these 
types run in fucking packs," said Bigs.

"Who wants to go fiiiirst?" asked Smalls in a nursery-rhyme voice. 
"Cool, man. I go," said one of Jerome's friends. Jerome laughed. "Yeah, 
man, CrissCross always go first!"

Smalls gently placed the noose around CrissCross' little neck. He didn't 
even get up from his comfortable resting place on the
dirty floor. All four of them were resting their backs against the wall 
with their feet splayed out before them, their eyes large with
drugged wonder.

Bigs placed a noose around the other three as well. Smalls tied all four 
ropes over a pipe, creating four pulleys. Enough rope was left for Bigs 
to grab hold of and use his body weight to lift them to their suspended 
and invisible dance floor. Smalls took out his gun and stood by the 
door. If anyone tried to get away, or gave Bigs any trouble, he'd blow 
them away. Simple as that.

"Without further ado, gentlemen, I say let the dancing begin," announced 
Bigs. "Yeah, man, cool," said one of the four.

And with that, Bigs took hold of the rope attached to CrissCross and 
pulled with his weight. The skinny little punk was yanked off his ass 
immediately. The guy was light, so Bigs had no trouble pulling the rope 
than tying it into position as the young man kicked and struggled in mid 
air.

He went to the next one and did the same, and the next one, then the 
next one. In a matter of seconds, all four youths were kicking and 
writhing on the end of their ropes. CrissCross' eyes were wide open as 
he began to put up a big fight, his feet kicking, his body jerking. 
Spittle oozed out of his mouth and all four make gurgling sounds.

Bigs and Smalls stood beneath them, both lost in amazement as they 
watched the four men jerk and gasp and gurgle and kick.

The stretching of their bodies brought their t-shirts above their 
middle, exposing their stomachs. CrissCross had a large knob of a navel 
that protruded from his slender belly. The one to his right also had an 
'outtie' of a navel, but it was smaller and less distinctive. 

Their kicking brought their baggy jeans below their hips - they already 
hung low on their bodies before the hanging. 

The youth to the left of CrissCross died the quickest. An unbelievable 
series of spasms made him thrash violently as his tongue swelled up and 
began to protrude through his lips. Blood and spittle drained from the 
tip of the tongue, and just as suddenly as the spasms hit, the boy's 
jerking ended entirely. He then swayed gracefully, his eyes staring, his 
mouth gaping. Urine drained from his pants leg and puddled on the floor. 

Eventually all four men swayed from the ropes without further struggles, 
save for the occasional twitching that came and went
for nearly a half hour. All four had their eyes open, eerily staring 
ahead as their bodies swayed. Smalls' eyes remained fixated on
their exposed bellies, their navels all youthful and tender. The outties 
seemed to be protruding even further. Damn, he thought, I
wish Lisa were here to see this. He could imagine the two of them 
fucking each other's brains out right here on the dirty floor as
the four youths dangled above, their lifeless eyes watching with a 
removed indifference.

"Damn, I wish Lisa could've seen this," said Smalls as they climbed back 
into their car. "There you fucking go again," said Bigs.
"I told you she was a fucking loony if she's into snuff!" "No, man, you 
don't understand," said Smalls, his thoughts drifting off to
Lisa. "What's there to fucking understand? You're both fucking loony!" 
said Bigs as they made their way back to the office with what was left 
of the stuff.


Part 4

Bigs and Smalls stood in the doorway. To their surprise, there were 
three girls in the room, all three hovering over the dead bodies of 
their boyfriends. The girl they had passed on the first floor was 
screaming now. It was a piercing scream that made the hair on Smalls 
neck stand up and sent waves of pain into Bigs' temples like little 
needles. 

"Goddamn it!" boomed Bigs, his hands going to his temples. "Shut the 
fuck up!" he yelled, his headache throbbing, as he reached for his 
silencer. The scream ended abruptly as Maria was suddenly flung against 
the wall.

Maria's eyes opened wide in shock as she stood there staring at the 
smoking barrel of the pistol. She looked down at the large red hole in 
her chest between her breasts, her shirt ruined, she thought. "Oh" she 
said, and her body then slid slowly down the wall leaving a bloody trail 
and tumbled over onto its side. She vomited blood and died, her eyes 
staring.

Bigs immediately switched gears and brought the beautiful blonde 
hovering over the dead baseball boy into his sights and pulled
the trigger before she could even react. The bullet slammed into her 
belly and tore through her navel exiting out the back. Her whole lifted 
up off the floor and floated backwards before dropping to the ground 
like a sack of potatoes. 

Sara's body suddenly went into a violent series of spasms that 
frightened Bigs and Smalls outright. Her gorgeous body flopped
and jerked and contorted so wildly, blood pouring from her open mouth, 
the two thought that perhaps the demon from 'The Exorcist' had suddenly 
taken possession of her beautiful body and attacked it. The girl even 
let out an unsettling scream as her body was jerked uncontrollably this 
way and that. Bigs shot her again out of total fear - he did not want to 
see her head spin completely around. That would've really freaked him 
out!

The girl's body came to a sudden rest with the second shot, another 
bullet hole appearing in her side, the blood draining out of it
like a faucet to the floor. Her big blue eyes unblinkingly stared up at 
the ceiling.

Smalls brought up his silencer to Lisa who was standing to the left, 
near the corpse of the Hawaiian boy. His eyes met hers and his finger 
gripped the trigger.

He did not pull it, however. The girl's eyes took on a look that he had 
never seen before. She stood before him, glowing. Her body straightened 
and stiffened with excitement, her eyes growing distant with ecstatic 
expectation. Her one hand went to her mouth and the other fingered her 
oval and tender belly button that had a diamond-studded ring in it. She 
hiccuped.

Lisa's hiccup was musical. It was high and cute and funny. Smalls' sex 
not only twitched, it came to full attention.

He stepped forward, bringing the gun to the girl's forehead now. She did 
not cower or run or cry or turn away or react in any other way. Instead, 
the excitement grew more urgent and less contained. She hiccuped again. 
Smalls' knees weakened.

He studied her now, her whole body, her light brown hair, those 
incredible green eyes, the high cheekbone. She was wearing a white shirt 
that she had tied just above her waist - and what an incredible waist 
she had! - and bell-bottom slacks. Her skin was soft and pale, her eyes 
the color of a tropical sea, her smell like water. His heart raced and 
his breath grew short.

She hiccuped again. He was growing dizzy. Smalls lowered his weapon and 
looked at her - and she at him. "Hello," he said, "my name is Donnie. 
Donnie Smalls." He extended his hand and she took it. He put his arm 
around her and they gazed at the dead bodies.

How beautiful they all looked. All had their bellies exposed to the 
world, blood leaking out of their mouths, their eyes staring, all
of them young and so full of life just a few minutes ago. The hiccups 
grew uncontrollable now and Smalls struggled to control the
fluttering of his heart.

"Jesus," said Bigs, shaking his head. "Now I've seen fucking 
everything!"

THE END

****

lraveena@hotmail.com




-- 
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+
| <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> |
| Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>