Blue smoke swirled through the dim light of the
conference room and hung heavily in the air, even though there was only one
person smoking. Alex shifted his weight onto his left leg; he wasn't allowed
to sit. He wasn't allowed to join them in the comfy leather chairs around
the large table. Sure, he was left a position and money, and he was
supposed to have some sortof clout, but without his benefactor alive to
challenge the other men, he basically had to hang out and wait to be asked to
join them.
So he stood there, like a small child allowed to listen in on an
adult conversation, taking everything in. At least they were talking about
his favourite subject, Mulder.
They were discussing, yet again, Mulder's
recent operation, and how it had been a success. Alex looked over at the
smoking man; he still had a bandage around his head. He had hoped that he
would die on the table, but alas, indestructible bugger that he was, he'd
lived.
Alex looked nonchalantly at the video that they were watching of the
operation; how the transformation had been completed, and now all they had to
do was wait.
Wait for what?
He wasn't quite sure, since these men
were even vaguer than the lastbunch. He'd checked out their backgrounds, and
found their weaknesses, should he have to use them in the future, but they
held their cards close to their chests. Unlike the last group, who fought
and bickered, and let their feelings be known, this group was content to
allow the smoking man to lead themblindly into oblivion.
He looked at
poor Mulder on the television screen, strapped down to the table, arms
spread like some sort of sacrifice or offering. An uncomfortabletwinge ran
through Alex; he didn't like to see Mulder like that. He didn't belong to
them; he didn't owe them for his father's mistakes. But he paid for those
mistakes just the same.
Alex had been conveniently out of town when they
had decided toincarcerate Mulder. It was strange that they had called Alex
up out of the blue with a job, and when he'd gotten home, he'd found out that
Mulder had beencommitted to a mental ward of all things. It was as if they'd
known he was Alex's hobby; and wanted him out of the way just to spite
him.
Alex would steal up there in the middle of the night and watch Mulder
sleep in his little cell. Sometimes he would wake up screaming; sometimes
he'd sit there without any expression on his face. Alex wanted to go in
there and make him feel better, but knew that was impossible, so he never
did. He got used to Mulder like that; it was like having him for a little
pet.
With Mulder in the hospital, Alex knew where he was at all times, and
that was good. Until they'd taken him for his operation. He'd shown up to
see Mulder, having formed a plan to get him out of there, and possibly keep
him for himself, but had found him gone. He'd gone to Skinner, to find out
what had happened, and he'd told him Mulder was missing, but nothing more.
It had taken a few hours, but Alex had finally found out where Mulder had
been, and what was about to happen, but he couldn't've done a thing about it,
however. Not a fucking thing. He'd driven blindly for hours and hours,
fueled by his rage, until his gas had run out. How could they do this to
him? Mulder belonged to him! He'd ended up in the Carolina's and stayed
there for a few days before going back to DC. He'd wanted to try and cool
off before heran into that conference room in New York and killed everyone.
And while that would have satisfied him immensely, it would've started a
chain of events that would have been catastrophic for everyone.
By the
time a much calmer Alex Krycek had gotten back to DC, they had let Mulder go,
and Alex had to be content to watch him from the apartmentacross the street.
Mulder had stayed home for a week, mostly sleeping on thecouch, eating and
drinking a little. He had hoped Mulder would have one of his sessions with
his porn collection, but he didn't. Alex assumed he was too tired.
Then
he got a call to take care of a little problem for the smoking man. Hell
hath no fury like the leader of a world-dominating consortium scorned.
Fowley's death was but a small consolation for the pain they had all
inflicted upon him in one way or another. He'd strangled her, wanting to
feel the life drain from her body with every gasping breath.
So he sat
there in that nearly empty apartment across the street from Mulder's, a
collection of Mulder's things around him, wanting him, craving him. There
was the tie, the one he vowed to give back but never did. There were the
doodles on the yellow legal pad that he'd stolen and came on. There was at-
shirt, stolen from Mulder's gym bag while he'd played basketball.
When
Mulder had been in the hospital, Alex had broken into Mulder'sapartment a
number of times. Mostly, he'd just sat there on the leather couch, or slept
in his bed. He'd even taken a shower once, the thought of Mulder's
soaprunning over his body making him hard, causing him to jerk off not once
but twice. In the back of his mind, he knew that he wasn't thinking
coherently, and he could've gotten caught, but the thrill had outweighed the
rationality of it all.
He was digging himself deeper into a hole of
obsession and fanaticism. If Mulder was a religion, he was the devout
follower, spread prone on the ground, awaiting atonement from his God.
He started following Scully around for kicks after she got back from Africa.
God, she'd gotten close to the truth. But Alex couldn't let her get too
close. He killed Kritchgau without a thought, just killed him and torched
his apartment. Alex hadn't even looked at the laptop yet; it was sitting in
a box in a loft in Annapolis that he called home most of the time. The
machinewas almost an afterthought; either he or Scully would have custody of
it, and it sure the hell wasn't going to be her.
Then Mulder had come
home and gotten better, and Alex happily followedhim around again, picking up
his hustler to relieve him almost every night. He had had to give that up
a few weeks ago, however, as he'd been needed for a mission in Kansas of
all places.
Now he was back, had given his report on Kansas, and was
awaiting scrutiny from the others. They looked at his report, looked at
him, and after some deliberation and long silences, were generally pleased
with what they saw. They gave him a pat on the head, and were now adjourning
the meeting. Alex was relieved; he didn't want to have to see this new
group of bastards for a long time. He left before they did, not wanting to
talk to any of them longer than he had to. It was New Year's Eve, and he
needed some relief.
He got into his car and drove back to DC, pulling up to
the spot where his hustler usually stood a few hours later, but found he
wasn't there. Alex came back again later, and still didn't find him in his
place on the sidewalk. He drove around the block a few more times, and then
down a side streetwhere some of the more strung out young men had started
hanging out. He recognizedone of them as one of his regular's friends.
Alex motioned to him, and he slowly strutted to the car then leaned inside
the window, his tongue licking his lips seductively.
"You lookin'?"
Alex motioned to the sidewalk. "Where is he?"
"Who?"
"Your friend.
The tall one?"
The hustler took a drag on his cigarette then flicked it
aside. He let his smoky breath out inside Alex's car. "Aaaaah," he said,
recognizing Alex. "You mean your boy? You like him a lot, dontcha?" He
slithered into the open window further, rubbing his crotch up against the
side of the car.
"Yeah, your friend. Where is he?"
"He ain't around
anymore, honey. You wanna gi'me a try?"
Alex breathed through his nose;
this was proving to be an annoying process. He calmly asked him again,
"What do you mean he ain't around?"
"He's gone. Gone away. Some sugar
daddy took him to LA. But I'll fix you up nice."
"LA?"
"Yeah, some
movie guy. Well he said he was a movie guy, butcha know, I think he just
said that so he'd go with him. I can getcha off better than that boy could;
he don't have my technique. You'll see." The young man opened the door
and motioned to get into the car, but Alex's glare stopped him. The young
man stood back up on the sidewalk, and slammed the door with some fanfare.
"What a bitch!"
Alex clenched his jaw and sped away from the young man.
This was fucking great; he had been celibate for weeks, and now he'd just
have to jerk off again!
"Shit!"
He went to his surveillance space in
the apartment across from Mulder's to watch him ring in the New Year. He
knew Mulder didn't have any plans. Well, he suspected Mulder didn't have any
plans; he never celebrated any other major holiday. He wondered if
Mulder'd done anything for Christmas this year. Last year, Alex hadn't
been around, but he'd thought of him.
Alex looked through the binoculars;
the apartment was dark. He sighed; nothing was going his way tonight. He
looked at his watch, 11:00. He turned around and booted up the laptop in the
corner; maybe he could find out whereMulder was and follow him for a while.
After about 20 minutes of searching, and a few phone calls, Alex discovered
Mulder was in a hospital about half an hour away. He drove to the
hospital, stomach all jittery, wondering just what Mulderwas doing in the
hospital. He hoped it wasn't anything major. He swore that if those
bastards had done anything else to Mulder, he'd kill them all without a
thought.
He parked the car and donned his latest disguise. Man, he hated
these things, but Mulder would recognize him if he didn't wear it. This
latest one was a moustache with a light blonde wig. He thought he looked
like a porn star. He added a baseball cap onto his ensemble, put on a
baggy, dark blue sweater, and was ready to go.
Excitement rang through
the air in the hospital over the impending newyear. There wasn't going to be
any meltdown, no planes would fall out of the sky; everything would be
normal; the Consortium had seen to that. The peoplehad to be secure in
knowing that everything was all right and normal so that when colonization
began, no one would see it coming. No one would suspect athing.
Dick Clark
was on every television in the hospital; it was going to be midnight in a
matter of minutes. Alex stole through the Emergency ward until hesaw Scully,
who was speaking to a man. She brought a small girl forward, andthe man
embraced the young girl, Scully looking on. Alex hung back in thebustle of
nurses and hustle of doctors, as they worked on some accident victims.
Then
Mulder came into the waiting room, his arm in a sling.
Alex's heart sped
up; he hadn't seen him in so long. He wanted to rush over to him, embrace
him, kiss him, fuck him. Instead, he stayed where he was, watching the scene
unfold. The man and the little girl left, leaving Mulder and Scully alone.
They looked up at the television as all around them, people shouted 'Happy
New Year'. Alex breathed out. He wanted them out ofthere; he didn't like
the vibe that was happening between them. Mulder looked at Scully, who was
still watching the television. She turned to look at him. Then, to Alex's
sheer horror, they leaned towards each other and kissed.
He could feel his
knees go weak, and the breath leave his chest as hewatched them. Time seemed
to stop, and the horrible incident seemed to lastforever. Then it ended.
They both said something to each other and left the room, Mulder's good arm
around her shoulders. Alex turned around as theybrushed by him, his anger,
rage and disappointment welling up inside him. He forced himself to stay
where he was until they left, the strong fingers of his prosthesis pinching
the tender skin between his thumb and forefinger tokeep him calm.
He
walked out to his car, almost getting hit by an ambulance. He didn't care;
the world should have ended with that kiss. Something evil invaded him at
that moment; all the rage of past things welled up inside him and needed to
come out. He ripped the disguise off, flinging it in the back seat, disgust
still coursing through his veins. He followed them home, grateful that no
more kissing happened. Mulder dropped Scully off, then went home to his own
apartment. Alex didn't know what he would have done if Mulder'd gone up to
her apartment. He'd have had to kill them... among other things.
After
Mulder went home, Alex drove around, anger nearly blinding him. He didn't
know how long he drove, but he ended up at the strip again, hoping to see his
young man. Hoping for someone, something. It was starting tosnow, and the
hustlers looked like they were going to retreat inside until it stopped.
Alex pulled up in front of the young man he'd talked to before, and rolled
the window down.
"I knew you'd be back." The hustler got into the car and
closed the door.
Alex drove, not sure what he wanted, not sure if he wanted
anything at all. He couldn't get the image of Mulder's lips meeting lips
that weren't his out of his head. He couldn't see anything else but that.
And the look they had given each other afterwards... it almost made him
sick.
"You gonna tell me whatcha want or what?"
Alex looked over at the
young man, his face wet with moisture from thesnow. He wasn't that good
looking, not as good looking as his regular one, but Alex couldn't be picky
at this particular moment. He drove on and down the service road, until
they were under the freeway, not answering the young man's questions.
When they parked, Alex held out a 20 to the young man, who took the billand
looked at it. Alex started to undo his jeans, when he found a large knife
waving in front of his face.
"You gave Trent fifty, asshole."
Alex
stopped undoing his jeans, and looked at the man beside him. This wasn't
good.
"You give me twenty? You think you're too good for me? Well you
ain't, motherfucker!" Suddenly, the knife moved and cut Alex along the jaw,
thenup to gash his forehead. Alex moved his hands up, but the knife sliced
through the leather of his gloves easily. He tried to grab the young man's
hand, but the knife came down, ripping through his jeans, and sending searing
pain along his leg. Alex, now pissed off, swung at the kid, catching the
knife in his left arm, where it stuck. The hustler looked at the knife
funnily, but didn't have time to do any more damage, as Alex smashed his
head against thewindow with his right elbow. The window broke, sending beads
of glass onto the ground and inside the car.
Blood ran down the young
hustler's face, dark in the diffused street light. Alex could feel blood
trickling down his face as well from the cut above his left eye. He looked
at himself in the rearview mirror, seeing blood flowing down his face, and
dripping off his chin.
"Sonofabitch!" Alex screamed and punched the young
man again out of frustration. This was definitely not his day. He removed
the knife sticking out of the false left arm, flexing his fingers, noting
that everything still worked. He sighed; he'd have to get that mended
now.
Blinking the blood out of his eye, Alex got out of the car and went
around to the trunk, where he got a roll of duct tape. He got back in the
car and fished under the seat for the box of Kleenex. He managed to clean
himself uppretty well, using small pieces of duct tape to hold together the
wounds in his forehead and chin. He needed a stitch or two in his chin, but
he could fix that once he got home.
His jeans were toast, ripped down the
right leg, and the long scratch down his thigh was beginning to hurt. His
right hand was cut pretty badly as well. After fixing himself up as well as
he could, he duct taped the hustler's hands and ankles together to prevent
anything else from happening. A smilecrossed his face as he looked at the
young man; he was going to have some funafter all.
The drive to Annapolis
and the loft in the building Alex owned was uneventful. He was grateful
all the police were downtown protecting the President, and not looking for
people like him. He parked in the garage and slung the youngman over his
right shoulder. He wasn't that heavy. He then went to theelevator and up to
the third floor.
Alex bought this building some time ago, knowing he had to
have a personal place of his own to escape to once in awhile. The building
was listed as commercial storage space, but the only thing Alex stored in
here was hisown secrets. He converted the third floor into a large loft with
hardwood floors and simple furniture. It was a nice place to recover from
the tribulations of the real world.
The elevator door opened, and Alex
unceremoniously dumped the hustler onthe wooden floor. He looked down at the
unconscious man, wondering what he should do with him next. He pushed the
couch and chair back against the wall, and rolled up the rug, leaving only a
heavy wrought-iron coffee table in the middle of the loft. He stripped the
young man of his clothes, and dragged him over to the coffee table, which
he draped him over. The young man was then boundto the table, arms to one
set of legs, knees to the other, legs spread wide. Alex smirked at the
still passed out man, and went into the bathroom.
Once in the bathroom,
Alex dug out his sterile suture kit and got to work, first removing the duct
tape holding the wounds together. His foreheadwould be okay with some second
skin applied, but his chin would definitely need three stitches. Alex
carefully started the sutures, reminding himself of how todo it correctly.
He thought about the man in the next room, and how surprised and shocked
he'd been when the knife had been in his face. He was neverscared, just
amazed that this little hundred pound junkie hustler had the balls to pull
a fucking knife on him. How dare this little fuck cut him like that, on the
face no less! He finished the stitches, and got the second skin on his
forehead, covering it with a piece of clear surgical tape. Then he
stripped.
The cut on his hand wasn't deep; neither was the long scratch
along his leg, thank God. The flesh coloured covering on his prosthetic arm
was cut, butno one would see that except for him. And Mulder, whenever he
got thechance to show him. He would get it fixed later.
He removed the
limb, and placed it on the counter, then stepped into the shower. He was
careful of his new stitches and the cut in his forehead, as he washed
himself of the blood that covered him.
Alex sighed as the warm water washed
over his body, doing nothing torelieve the tension in his muscles. He washed
himself deliberately, caressing his cock and balls with his fingers. His
mind went back to Mulder as it often did, but instead of imagining him in
the shower with him on his knees, fucking his mouth, he saw him kissing
Scully, cradling her jaw in his hand, his tongue sliding over her lips. He
deepened the kiss, backing her up against the wall, his hands moving over
her body...
"NO!" Alex yelled, punching the wall, sending a searing pain
through his hand from the cut there already. No, no, no, no! Mulder was
his, dammit, he should be kissing him.
"It should have been me. It
should have fucking been me!" Alex rested his forehead on the tile of the
shower enclosure and closed his eyes. "It should have been me," he
moaned.
But how was Mulder to know? It's not like I've said anything to
him. I've just followed him around like some sort of... sick fucking
freak. That's got to change. This is fucking ridiculous. I've got to tell
Mulder how I feel about him, how I need him.
But what if he doesn't
want you?
Alex pushed that from his mind. He couldn't deal with that
right now, hehad some business to take care of.
He got out of the shower,
toweled off, and replaced his prosthesis. He got dressed in a pair of clean
jeans and black cotton sweater. Then he wentback out into the living room.
The young man was moaning softly to himself, waking from his concussion.
Alex started to harden, as he looked at the bound man, bloody and half-
conscious. He made a fine looking piece of ass all spread out like that.
His ass was round and fit, and his thighs were muscular. Alex ran his hand
across the strong back. No wonder this skinny guy had been so strong; he was
one taut muscle. Alex also noticed the fresh track marks on his arms. He
hadn'tbeen on drugs for long; the veins didn't show any blowouts, or signs of
prolonged use. Plus, he was too fit and healthy to be much of a junkie. But
that didn't matter. The fact was he was just some junkie whore, and he'd
pay for whathe had done to Alex.
He could feel his cock start to throb.
He was starting to feel like he was in a dream, and he knew that he was
going to that dangerous place in his mind. And when he did, people got
hurt.
Alex went into the kitchen and filled a plastic cup with water. He
brought it back to the living room and threw the water into the young man's
face.
"Wake up," he snapped.
The hustler opened an eye and moaned. He
licked the water from his lipsand swallowed. That's when he realized that he
couldn't move. A gasp left his lips as he tried to squirm in his bonds.
Alex dropped the plastic cup to the floor, then walked over and knelt in
front of the bound man. He reached over and picked up the knife.
"You
surprised me tonight, Mark." Alex noticed the young man's eyebrows rise.
"I got your name from your wallet." The young man sneered at him, but
remained silent. Alex continued, "I didn't think you'd have the balls to
attack someone like me."
"Fuck you," Mark sputtered.
Alex's eyes
narrowed. "You have no idea who you're fucking with, Mark."
He set the
knife aside and brought down the zipper on his jeans, revealing his hard
cock. "You know what's funny, I was going to pay you to suck my cock, but
now I don't think I have to."
"Eat shit!"
"Do you deserve this, Mark?
Do you deserve me?"
"You don't deserve me, you psycho piece of shit."
Alex noticed Mark was getting scared, despite the bravado that was spewing
from his mouth. "Letme loose you fucking freak! I'm going to kick your
fucking ass!"
Alex ripped a piece of duct tape off the roll, and secured it
over the man's mouth.
"That's so much better," Alex purred into his
ear. "And you don't deserve me, you junkie whore. But you're gonna enjoy
it."
He took off his jeans and sweater and threw them on the couch against
the wall, wondering why he even bothered to get dressed in the first place.
He then moved behind the young man and reached over to the collection of
condomsand lube that he had found in his jeans' pocket.
"You know, I hate
wearing these fucking things," Alex said as he rolled the condom on his cock.
Then he rolled on another one, and slicked up his hardness. "But that's
life, right; that's the way things are."
Alex shoved his cock half way in
and groaned; the kid was tighter than he thought. He moved his hips around
to loosen the passage slightly. The hustler whimpered through the duct
tape. Alex breathed in as he dug himselfdeeper into the tight ass.
"Plus, if I rode you bareback, my dick would probably rot off, right, Mark?"
Alex pushed in all the way and smacked Mark's ass. "You're a fucking junkie
whore, Mark. You're a fucking junkie whore who fucked with the wrong guy.
And now you're gonna pay."
Alex moved his hips back and forth, moving his
cock in and out of Mark'sass. "You fucking cut me, Mark. You cut my
goddamn face." Alex pulled outmost of the way and shoved in violently.
Mark whimpered.
"You cut my fucking face, you fucking piece of shit. You
goddamn whore. You fucking whore!" With every phrase, Alex dug deeper and
shoved harder. Mark's hands were clenching and unclenching; he was also
screaming into the duct tape.
"You think this fucking hurts? I had my
goddamn arm cut off. This is nothing. I should cut your arm off, so you
could see how it feels." Sweat waspouring off of Alex, and he could barely
see. Rage and raw emotion boiled up andout of him with every stroke. Mark
was crying now.
"Who's the tough guy now, huh? Who's tough now, you
fucking bastard? Why'd you cut me like that? Why'd you treat me that way,
huh? Why'd you fuckwith me?"
Alex was on the brink, fucking Mark madly.
He came with a groan, but kept moving in and out of the young man, his cock
not deflating. This time, however, something inside him changed again, and
he felt like he wasn't inside his body. He gritted his teeth, leaned
forward and thrust harder. His voice came out in a feral whisper.
"You
asshole. You fucking asshole." Alex continued to dig his cock into Mark's
ass, his hands squeezing and bruising his buttocks. "Why? Why did you do
that to me? You treated me like shit. You don't know me. You don'tknow the
way I feel; I've got fucking feelings, you know."
Alex kept shoving his
dick into the young man's ass; he was going to come again. Tears formed in
his eyes and started running down his face. "You made fun of me, and
ignored me, and fucked me up, and all I did was love you, Mulder; all I did
was love you. Then you kissed Scully. You should have been kissing me.
Why won't you let me love you? Why can't it be me?" He came with barely a
moan.
Alex picked up the knife with his right hand and pulled Mark's head
back by the hair with the left. He didn't see the expression of horror on
his face, or hear the muffled screams behind the piece of silver tape
covering Mark's mouth. He sliced open Mark's neck, blood spraying onto the
shiny hardwood and gleaming in the pale light of the loft.
The orgasm
was still sending shudders through Alex's body, as he watchedthe blood flow
from the young man's neck. Alex breathed heavily, and sweat dripped off
his brow. He knelt there for a few minutes, until the knife suddenly
clattered to the floor. He pulled out quickly and backed away as fast as he
could, realizing for the first time what just happened.
"Shit," he
whispered.
He watched the thick, red liquid spread out and stain the
floor.
"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck."
He moved away until his back was
against the wall, chest heaving from his horrified gasps. He hated it when
he did this, when he lost control, when he turned into that ugly monster he'd
turned into time and time again.
He pulled his knees up to his chest and
laid his head on them, breathing out slowly as he wrapped his good arm around
his legs. He sat there for a long time, just breathing, until he started to
shiver from the cold creeping in from under the blinds.
Slowly, he
reached down and removed the condoms, flinging them aside. He hated
himself. He hated this monster that killed and hurt people. The same
monster that killed Bill Mulder, Diana Fowley, Kritchgau, the same one that
had worked over that boy Dimitri...all those people all over the world he'd
inflicted pain upon... the monster came out of him, and he couldn't stop
it.
He stood on wobbly legs and surveyed the situation. He could get rid
of the body and clean the place no problem, and he doubted if anyone had seen
him pick the young man up. But he killed this otherwise innocent, yet
stupid man for no good reason. And the thing that scared Alex was that he
felt no remorse.
He set about cleaning up the apartment, disposing of the
body and bloody things in the incinerator. He couldn't do this anymore, he
couldn't be this person anymore; it was too hard. He couldn't go on
following Mulder around; it was stupid. This obsession had to end. He had
to do something about it. He watched the garbage bags melt and burn through
the thick window in the incinerator door. He'd just have to think of a way
to do it.
Dark Entries II
by Nicole S
Alex Krycek wasn't in the mood for this. He didn't want to be at this
meeting with these men.
