Love's Dangerous Counterpart

April 4, 2030

         "Damnit, Bianca! What the fuck were you thinking?"

         I woke violently, becoming lightheaded in the process. This was bound to be a horrible night, judging by the sound of Martin's voice. Oh, dear God. I better get up before he tries to shoot me.

         I emerged from my cave fully dressed in my Midnight Rider uniform. I was on duty this evening, thank God. I had no desire to deal with Martin the live-in psychopath. Damnit. If Mom hadn't gotten herself pregnant from the affair she had with Martin's English teacher, life would be a lot easier. I mean, ever since the start of the Burkston War, about 2023, I was in the nation's new civil defense union, the Midnight Riders. However, I was now being paid for it to support a little monster, a true menace to society. Anyway, I emerged to find my little brother ripping the newspaper to shreds.

         "Martin, you little pissant!" I screamed. "I was gonna read that."

         The little redheaded twit muttered some incoherent curse and stalked off. I decided to leave him alone. His life from age seven to the present has been hell, and at twenty two, I can't do anything to ease his pain except to go to work. It hurts me, though, to leave him alone at night. Still, I have to do it, I thought as I strolled out the door.

         I arrived at the public balcony only to find it raining.

         "Fuck!" I screamed.

         Digging frantically through my coat pockets, I found the keys to my newly issued Ford Isotope. This car was going to be the car for policemen once the war was over. It was smaller than the traditional police sedan in length but still could easily seat four people. Second, it had a clear bubble style roof that could become tinted nearly jet black at the touch of a button. The best thing about this car was that it flew, which made for more sneaky maneuvering. That feature was absolutely essential for my job. As a major in the Midnight Riders, I often lead seiges on what we called Vice Grips (VGs for short), and God only knows where I was going to go tonight. As part of the nation's police force, I was always raiding places, arresting people. At twenty two, I was the youngest major in the state, yet I became that after identifying over 700 VGs a year for the past four years. Police work was my life. I was well educated, but I was a policeman.

         After flying over traffic to get to our headquarters, I ran inside, barely missing the downpour. Somehow, I arrived at my desk without spraining my ankle from running down the stairs. Most people thought I was crazy for taking the stairs instead of the elevator, but for me, it was a practice of sorts for staying on my toes, which in my line of work is paramount. Anyway, I arrived at my desk in one piece, only to come face to face with my supervisor, Major General Fran Shears. Judging by her posture, I was about to get in over my head again.

         "Major Gianlucas, " she said. "We need to raid a VG."

         Oh no. I had been doing this for weeks on end now. I had a bad feeling that this time, the raid was gonna get out of hand. A lot of majors had been performing raids this week. Why not get some of the colonels to pick up the slack? At the rate we were going, many majors were going to rebel, forcing the colonels to work. If they were deliberately dumping the work on us to have more work for themselves, it must be the end of common sense as we know it.

         I wasn't about to argue this, though. I simply asked, "Where, General?"

         Major General Shears gave me a grave look then said, " Prince of Thebes".

         About an hour later, after conferring with Shears, I sauntered into the conference room, where about 25 privates, corporals, and sargeants sat. I was followed by Colonel Andrew York, who carried the raid plans, maps, and a laptop in his arms. I whistled loudly, and then subordinates stood up to salute.

         "As you were," I mumbled, and they resumed sitting.

         "Alright, ladies and gentlemen," I began. "If you haven't figured it out already, we are raiding a VG. However, this isn't like other VGs you have raided. Tonight, we will be raiding Prince of Thebes, a Mafia-run sex club in the Mariner district. Colonel York has come up with a basic plan of action, but I, Major Gianlucas, will be in charge of this mission."

         Going through my monologue of raid summaries and what not, I felt fairly confident that between Colonel York's plans and the experience of my team (All subordinates had been on at least twenty raids, and ten of them had been on raids with me in the past.), this would be a successful raid. However, I wasn't fond of the prospect of this raid. Dad had committed suicide at Prince of Thebes back when I was eighteen, and my mother had been there with her lover on numerous occassions. Yes, I wanted the place to be up in flames like a Roman candle, and this would be sweet, sweet revenge for all the hell my parents caused. However, it also sparked consuming memories to be resurrected, and I didn't want my job performing capabilities to be hampered.

         Colonel York was going over our plan of action. Ultimately, I would give the signal to begin the raid, which meant I had to go into Prince of Thebes. Second, we weren't going to raid right away, instead allowing an hour or so as to really catch the guards by surprise. These Mafia guards knew our kind, but they didn't know us, the 69th Division of Kennasau. We had a superior raid level because we kept a low profile, a skill vital in raiding such a locked down VG as this. To pull off this surprise attack, we were to go in plainclothes, often a very dangerous thing to do, since keeping weapons on a person is almost impossible. I was going to have only an earpiece and microphone, and I could only communicate with Colonel York. This was unlike anything I had ever done, and I was scared.

         It was quarter to nine, and the rain continued to assault us in sheets. My troop and I pulled into the Mariner parking garage, a dangerously close two miles away from the club, and I waited as everybody got out. Nearly twenty minutes passed before I finally left the confines of my undercover car, a clunker 2003 Nissan. Actually, it ran pretty well, but it was hard to drive a car with no flying capabilities. I was sort of used to it, but in these days, it was a rare thing to do. When I left the parking garage, I turned south and made my way down Ackenhusen Boulevard, the street where our VG, Prince of Thebes, sat like a guillotine, a reminder of the end of decency, taste, and reason in the States.

         I didn't reach the club until nearly eleven. However, it still left planty of time for the raid. When I reached Prince of Thebes, I emitted a low whistle to let Colonel York know I was there. I then wandered in, my heart about ready to bound out of my chest cavity. This internal rattling was bound to drive me absolutely insane, and I was going to have to deal with flushing adrenaline for an hour before I could fight, letting loose all the fear and anger that at the moment was tumbling around in me, and I barely managed to suppress the urge to tremble.

         After getting in rather easily, I began to wander around Prince of Thebes. As I wandered, I found that Prince of Thebes was actually several themed clubs in one place. Still, the overall mood of the place echoed violence, as S&M and violent sex seemed to be the common fetishes here.

         I first wandered into the Island of Adventure, the first of the themed club. The Island, as I heard it called when I had walked in, was filled with exotic flora and nude fauna, as people enjoyed some natural sex amongst the trees. I saw a woman tied face down to a tree as a tall, burly man entered her from behind. Judging by the angle at which he had proceeded to ram her, he was in her ass. I watched a little bit, listening to her scream in painful delight and wondering how anyone could possibly enjoy that. I decided to move on after an orgy by the club's pond broke out. I needed to keep some of my sanity in tact.

         Leaving turned out to be a bad idea, as I wandered into the Land of 1000 Mysteries, a club with an Arabic theme. Wandering in, I was flooded with memories of Dad, who was a professor emeritus of Middle Eastern Studies of Kenessau University. He had an intense fascination with Middle Eastern cultures and politics, so it came almost as no surprise when I heard that his body had been found in this club. I stood irresolute for a while, staring at nude forms wandering around. Evidently many people just arrived, like I had. Before people claimed their spots, I decided to explore the various rooms in this club.

          I say rooms because this club was designed for monogamous sex encounters. As I walked around, I counted six or seven before I found one completely empty. No one was in it, there was no bed, and there weren't even any Arabic decorations. In fact, the room looked nearly abandoned. That when I saw it, the stain. It was a greenish brown spot about an inch in diameter, smack in the middle of the south wall. I walked over to it and touched it, feeling how it had bonded to the paint over the years. I knew what this was.

         "Dad," I whispered, and I began to cry.

         Finally, after wandering some more, I arrived in the darkest of the clubs: Cobbelstone. This was the most violent of the clubs, as I saw a man get wildly paddled by another man the instant I walked in. Had it not been for my coat, I would have felt the cold that froze my breath midair. I didn't like this room. Though large and in the basement, it was crowded, and a lack of insulation caused the already booming cacaphony to hit my ears repeatedly, causing my head to throb. It was hard to move around in the dungeon between people constantly moving and various objects being thrown around. A condom hit me from the left, and I turned to attempt to find the source.

         After scraping the used condom off of my shoulder, I turned my head to find one of the only sparsely populated areas in the dungeon. In that space was a couple that seemed to be keeping to themselves. They looked a little older than the rest of the patrons, yet they were decked out like them. The woman was covered only by not-so-strategically placed straps, as sometimes they'd slip, especially the one over her crotch. The man, meanwhile, donned black leather pants and was holding a whip. He gave her a smoldering kiss and then walked ten paces from her. The woman lowered her head, and he cracked the whip. She whimpered, sparking him to give her a few more lashings.

         "That's what you get for letting that crotch strap fall! " he bellowed, a growl creeping into his voice.

         That particular strap fell again, but this time, he decided to shove his fist up her vagina. I winced as she screamed in ecstasy, recovering as I heard her panting breath once he withdrew his hand from her.

         "I'll fuck you when I want to, " he growled in her ear.

         I continued to watch in horrified fascination as he proceeded to lift the strap covering her nipples to suckle one and rub the other. She moaned in discomfort, as his actions were not what she wanted. Intermittently, he'd pinch or bite down on her nipples, provoking shrieks so shrill I could feel the blood in my temples freeze. Then I heard abrupt snapping noises, and a strap flew past me. I stood there, catatonic, as this occurred a few more times, leaving the woman naked. I shuddered at the sight, but then she looked up in expectation at her torturer, and I saw her face.

         Oh my God. It was my mother.

         "Go."

         After giving the command, I tried to shake my arm in order to regain some semblance of an ability to move. Finally, a draft picked up and swept underneath my coat, causing me to shiver, and then I was able to move again. I felt in my coat for my Colt .16, a smaller version of the Government Model 1911 .45 designed for electron bullets, which gave the victim a powerful electric shock to ensure the person was dead. It was my lucky gun, as it had saved my life hundreds of times on these raids.

         I managed to get myself to leave Cobbelstone and head back near the entrance. Colonel York was bound to be here sometime soon, and I wanted to meet him as quickly as I could. Meanwhile, I listened through my earpiece to the walls. My troop was slowly trickling in through the gaps. I prayed this wouldn't take long.

         I breezed through the clubs, finding troop members scattered about. Almost everyone had arrived. We had to make sure Colonel York was here before we proceeded. Since we had all snuck in (as opposed to our typical rampaging), we had to get our cue to raid each individual room. Once the place was cleared out, we were going to burn the building, something that we almost never did.It sounded simple enough, but I knew it wouldn't be. We'd be interrupting sex sessions, and the crowd was bound to retaliate violently. As I made my way towards the entrance again, I saw Colonel York. It was time.

         I approached Colonel York as he entered with two sergeants. I simply nodded at him, alerting him that everyone was in place. He nodded in return, and the four of us went in separate directions. The sergeants took the north and south wings, Colonel York took Cobbelstone, and I went upstairs into Heaven's Gate, the attic.


         Once I made my way up to the attic, the elevator doors opened to reveal a very soft-looking room painted in feathery blues and whites. I didn't want to gas this place, but I had to; this raid was taking no prisoners. Besides, I had a little sympathy for these people, as they were enjoying themselves, literally and figureatively speaking. Copulation is a joyous activity, and I had to ruin it for them to earn some money. Their innocent cavorting, however, was what drove me insane, and for what was left of my family, I was willing to end their good times by pulling the pin on the gas bomb and tossing it. As the gas began to leak in Heaven's Gate, I closed the elevator doors, knowing that I had killed nearly two hundred lovers.

         All was calm until the elevator abruptly came to a halt, and I heard a scream, and then there was the ever familiar sound of glass breaking. This couldn't have been good. Either one of the sergeants had gotten a fight started, or one of the levels was on fire. It was damning no matter what. My eyes darted around the elevator, looking for an escape. As I looked around, avoiding panic as best I could, I heard a gunshot. Shit. I had to get out of the elevator. Things were going seriously wrong.

         After pressing the button to open the elevator doors about twenty times, I finally found a small axe with which to pry the doors open. Once I got out of the elevator, I was greeted by utter chaos: random gunfire, piles of corpses, nude patrons running around in circles, and about five of my troop members looking at me in horror. Clearly they didn't know what to do, and I wasn't really sure myself. People had thrown tables out the windows and had begun leaping to their deaths while others were trying to look for the stairs, which my troop had sealed off in accordance with our plan. A couple people were still having sex, figuring they knew they were going to die.

         "Did you release the bomb?" I asked.

         The four men looked at me and shook their heads while the one girl, Marnie, hung her head in shame. Evidentally something had gone wrong.

         "Marnie was shot at by someone, " one the men said.

         "Someone that knew me, an old classmate, " she said. "It caused a panic, and it was impossible to release the bomb."

         "Do you still have the bomb?" I asked her.

         Marnie nodded.

         "Let me have it, " I said, and she shakily handed me the bomb.

         I lead them to where I knew there was a stairwell, because I knew that elevator wasn't gonna work for the rest of the night. As I had them break the seal they had constructed on the stairwell, I pulled the pin and tossed the bomb into the crowd. We then ran for our lives down the stairwell, myself in the back to patch up the seal.

         It was impossible to see down the stairwell, so the six of us ran blindly, hoping we'd make it to the first floor in one piece. However, Marnie, having been the first, had reached the first floor (which thankfully hadn't been sealed off), and soon we were all safely on the ground. Something eerie lurked, though. All was quiet except for a dull roar seeping from the floorboards. I heard several cracks, conjuring memories of when I had uttered that fateful word.

         "What the...?" Marnie whispered.

         "Colonel York," I said. "It's not good. I'm going down there. You guys get out of here and meet up with the others."

         They obeyed my orders, and we separated. I stood in the lobby admist some bodies, all of which appeared to have been shot. The lobby was like a Serbian minefield, and emerging from this building was going to be impossible, as there was almost no room to walk. Whoever was left was probably going to have to run out of there, leaving everyone susceptible to electric shock. I carefully manuevered myself around the bodies and reentered Cobbelstone.

         I couldn't believe my eyes when I arrived. Eight Midnight Riders, including Colonel York, were caught in the midst of a riot. One corporal had been chained to the wall and was being whipped by a tall, unnaturally pale dominatrix. She cracked the whip against his rump for probably the tenth time, this time drawing blood.

         "What are you gonna do now, Mister Big Shot?" she growled at Colonel York.

         Colonel York just stood there, shocked that anyone would make one of his troop members a prisoner, let alone a domestic prisoner.The other Midnight Riders looked on in panic, not knowing what to do. As I stood at the stairs watching the standoff, I weighed my options. I could come down from the stairs and mediate, or I could shoot the dominatrix from here. She had Colonel York pinned, and she looked ready to whip the corporal to death. I couldn't let her do it. I wasn't losing anyone on my raid. I needed to take control of the situation, and there was only one way.

         I had to shoot her.

         I removed my gun from its place in my coat. I knew it was fully loaded, as I hadn't used it all night. Unlocking the safety, I took aim and fired square in the sternum. Damnit! I aimed too high. I had been aiming for her heart. When she fell to the ground, though, I knew I had won. The shock mechanism in the bullet had come through for me. Now, though, I really had to proceed with caution.

         "Bianca!" Colonel York shouted. "Thank God!"

         I looked at Colonel York, wondering why he was so desperately relieved to see me. Business had to be done, and it needed to be done pronto.

         "Get him out of here," I said, gesturing toward the corporal.

         A muffled gunshot ripped through the cacaphony of Cobbelstone, as people had been fighting amongst themselves. The basement fell silent, and I ran to find the source of the shot. I finally arrived at where I had been before, when I first found my mother. I found here there again, this time with blood gushing from her head, her lover looking on in consternation, and a glum private resolutely holding his gun, ready to shoot again. Finally, my mother exhaled a soft breath, and I knew she was gone. Her naked lover threw threw himself on her dead body and twitched, as the shock reached him. The private adjusted his aim, but I found myself breaking his arm to prevent him from shooting again. At this point, I was about to lose control, and this place still needed to be burned to an oblivion. We needed to get out of there. Now.

         "Why'd you do that?" the private asked me.

         "You killed my mother," I whispered. "You pathtic bastard."

         "That was your mother?" he asked.

         "Yes, that was my mother!" I growled, my voice becoming uncontrollably louder. "You fucking killed my mother! You will confess!!"

         I grabbed him by his broken arm and hauled him out of Cobbelstone so fast my head was spinning. I brought him out to Ackenhusen Boulevard, where by now a crowd had formed, and Colonel York was radioing for backup. The corporal lay on the pavement still bleeding and turning paler than I thought was possible. I found a sergeant and brought the private to him.

         "Make sure this peckerhead doesn't go anywhere," I ordered. "He killed my mother."

         After that, I stalked off. There was one step left, and now we were ready for it. I found Sergeant Tietjan, who had layered the lobby with gasoline. He handed me a lighter, and I trudged to Prince of Thebes, preparing to turn the sex club into the world's largest crematory container.

         I stood at the entrance irresolute. The moment had finally come, but I found myself very shaky, not sure if I could do it. I had to, though. I had to end the pain that rendered Martin emotionally ravaged and me aging too quickly to know the joy of youth. Thank you, Mother. Thank you, Father...

         "Daddy," I whimpered. It was for him I lit this fire. It was for him I would end it.

         I flicked the lighter and lowered the flame to the floor. As I saw the fire follow the gasoline trail, I ran. I stumbled a little, and I glanced over my shoulder to see the fire expanding more quickly than we had anticipated. We needed to get out of there. The place was about to blow.

         "Run!" I screamed. "Get the fuck out. It's not safe!"

         I turned north and sprinted in the middle of Ackenhusen Boulevard. It didn't make any difference, as most people used flying cars or flying taxis in the early morning hours. I needed to alert the traffic monitors and stat, as the Mariner District had extremely heavy air traffic, particularly tonight. God, help us.

         I then remembered I still had my earpiece and microphone. Perhaps I could save a life or two. "Colonel York!" I shouted, but I was interrupted by a monstrous boom to the south. I stopped running and turned to see Prince of Thebes drowning in flames.

         "All that gas, " I whispered. "No one would've made it."

         From there, I really don't remember getting back to the station. When I got there, I was greeteed by cheers and congratulations, but I couldn't respond. Sexual images and memories of my mother occupied my restless mind, and I wanted nothing more than to forget the murder I had committed.

         "I understand your mother was there."

         I jumped at the sound of the voice but turned to face the source, General Shears. Somehow, in my semi-catatonic state, I saluted her.

         "As you were," she said.

         I lowered my hand but continued to stand tensely, back stiff as cement. "Yes, she was, " I said. "I watched her die."

         "You did?" General Shears asked. What happened?"

         "A private shot her in the temples," I said. "She was also shocked."

         "Who shot her?" Shears continued while unearthing a notepad. That pad was going to be filled with notes before the night was done. A lot of complications had ensued, and there were going to be some major investigations. I hoped they'd show a little mercy.

         "I....I..don't remember," I told her. "It was someone I hadn't worked with before, though. I broke his arm."

         General Shears continued to write before uttering another word. "Why'd you break his arm?"

         I took a deep breath before answering. "He killed my mother...." I sobbed. "I lost control! He was about to shoot my mom's lover, and I wasn't going to allow for that!" I then collapsed in a pool of tears onto the icy linoleum. As I wept for the dead for the first time in years, I heard General Shears order someone to take me home.

         "You'll be on leave for a few weeks, " she said, and then I was escorted out of the station, crying like I never had before.

         I arrived home around three in the morning, only to find Martin wide awake, reading Cultural Dysfunction. He looked rather like Dad with the way he was slumped in the couch, reading. He looked at me and saw the tears in my eyes.

         "What happened?" he asked.

         I quivered. I couldn't answer him. Finally, I screamed and let the tears cascade again. I couldn't bear to break the news to Martin, but there was no way I could avoid it.

         "Martin," I said, "Mom's dead."

         At that, Martin simply stared at me in a state of shock. He didn't know Mom was still alive, and hearing the news of her death had to have been surprising for him. I joined him on the couch and put an arm around him.

         "It's just us now, " I sobbed.

         We spent the rest of the night on the couch, crying over our mother. One painful cycle of betrayal and pain had ended, but another had begun. With both parents gone, we were truly on our own, and as the sun rose a bloody red, I hoped we'd be able to survive another day in this torn world with our annihilated hearts and minds.