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Shane Marion ([info]wolfishane) wrote in [info]bellumlogs,
@ 2010-04-24 00:06:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:big bad wolf, dorian gray

Who: Shane and Trenton
What: Time for Trenton to pay the piper.
Where: P4
When: After this.
Warnings: Uh, yeah, probably. Torture, blood, talk of sexual abuse, and various other triggery type stuff. Viewer discretion is advised.



Trenton was the person who had hurt Boyd. Who had drugged her. Who had raped her.

This was as straightforward and obvious to Shane as the sky being blue, and rapists deserving whatever they got. Though he'd recently developed a level of doubt and guilt when he killed, this went beyond that, transcended that. This was surety, like he hadn't had in some time. It felt familiar. He'd missed being sure.

He packed up a small black bag with a few essentials and went up to P4. He saw no reason not to try the direct approach. He'd never met Trenton, and if he felt as guiltless as he must be to not have just killed himself when he realized what he'd done, he likely wouldn't bat an eyelash to opening to the door to a stranger.

He went to the door, and just knocked. He wore dark clothes and a bland expression as he waited for someone to answer.

If he wasn't home, of course, they could do this some other time. Any other time, really.

But he hoped Trenton would be home.


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[info]cyprian
2010-04-24 05:44 am UTC (link)
This was Shane's lucky day because not only was Trenton home, but he was home alone. It was quite the rarity for the fourth penthouse, but Trenton hadn't been in the mood for hosting a party or an orgy or a card game lately. The freeloaders of Manhattan wept.

No, Trenton decided this was the perfect evening for a quite night in. Just him and some herbal relaxation that didn't lend to too much thinking. The last thing he really wanted to do these days was think. Or remember.

He was flipping through his music when the knock came to his door. There was some hypnotic trip hop coming through his speakers, but - for the first time in a long time - it wasn't loud enough to disturb his neighbors. See? He was learning, getting mindful of the needs of others! Or he'd just lost the remote to his stereo, whatever.

The knock was modest, almost polite really, and that made Trenton squint. Anyone he knew would have already been shouting through the jamb for him to open up already. Regretfully, Trenton got to his feet and dropped his blunt in an ashtray before going for the door. He was dressed down in dark slacks and a threadbare white tee. Glancing through the peephole, he didn't recognize the man. If a Bellum resident didn't live on his floor or have breasts, they might as well have no existed, really.

No, he didn't know the guy. This probably was some kind of Craig's List homoerotic housecall, in which case, this guy had the wrong door entirely. Trenton unlocked his door and leaned against the jamb with a wide, vacantly amused smile. "You're probably looking for P3, across the hall."

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[info]wolfishane
2010-04-24 06:01 am UTC (link)
Shane took a step forward, took Trenton by the neck, and slammed him forcibly into the wall beside the door.

He kicked the door closed with his foot, and choked Trenton tight enough against the wall that he wouldn't be able to make any noise, the sort that might alert the other penthouses that something was wrong. Then again, with Trenton's reputation, god only knew what it would take to alarm his neighbors.

He got a brief impression of the chandelier inside, the one he recognized from the memory that wasn't his, the one that sent a chill through him. It made him sick. But it had led him here, and that was what was important.

He would choke him until he was unconscious, but not to death. Not yet. If Trenton was able to register any sort of impression of him, it would likely be how methodical he seemed. There was rage in the vise-grip of his fingers, and in the other hand, batting off any fight he put up, but his expression was steady, unaffected.

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[info]cyprian
2010-04-24 06:22 am UTC (link)
You know, Trenton was really getting tired of people coming up to his penthouse with the express purpose of knocking him around. First Aaron, and now this asshole. Displeasure registered within his seafoam eyes in that initial moment; he was pissed, but not too surprised.

When he slammed into the stark white backdrop of his entryway wall, Trenton grunted in wordless discomfort. If he'd been able to generate more sound that just the occasional gurgle, there was a loaded round of choice obscenities for this stranger. What the hell had happened to manners?

His invader hadn't given him any head trauma, which gave Trenton a good fifteen seconds to generate a smartass comment for as soon as he could breathe again. Oh, it was a good one. Just as soon as the stranger released his throat.. any second..

When that didn't happen, Trenton finally began to struggle. He swung out with his fists, pulled on the hand at his throat in a fully useless and instinctive method. He kicked and he bucked and the world was steadily beginning to go gray. If he lost consciousness and forgot his smartass, witty retort.. all would be lost. Trenton vainly reached out again, but had almost no energy to swing a fist or do much of anything beside tangle a hand in the nameless man's shirt before he slumped so lifeless, and everything went black.

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[info]wolfishane
2010-04-24 05:00 pm UTC (link)
When Trenton was finally unconscious, Shane let him drop to the floor. Then he checked out the peephole. Nothing.

He took him by the collar and dragged him into the living room, hunting around the apartment for a chair that wasn't plush all the way through. He finally found one after sifting through a whole variety of objects of depravity, and dragged it out into the middle of the floor. He sat Trenton in it, and secured his arms and legs to the chair with several zip ties on each limb, tight enough to make any kind of struggle painful.

Then he duct taped his mouth shut and laid out a few of the things he'd brought with him.

Then he waited. He could wait as long as it took.

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[info]cyprian
2010-04-24 08:12 pm UTC (link)
Trenton awoke slowly. A sudden painful intensity of light left him squinting with a grimace hidden at half-mast because his adorable scowl was tucked away behind duct tape. He moved his mouth against the tape, finding it uncomfortable but, strangely enough, not too unfamiliar.

Joints refused to extend their limbs, and his fingers twisted up with a pivot of latched wrists. It took him a moment longer to realize that he was strapped down to one of those high backed, vintage dining chairs that his mother had shipped to him in a red wine & xanax moment last fall. She had a tendency to send overpriced furniture and a laundry list of complaints(typically on his failings as a son, but sometimes about Democrats or UNICEF) every autumn. Something about the falling leaves made her remember her need to send scathing commentary in mass exodus. Trenton hated these fucking chairs. He'd somehow convinced himself that he'd tossed them out the window some time ago, but had apparently only stashed them in a closet or a corner. A fresh ache of irritation pervaded his bones, and Trenton looked up.

Blue eyes tight and wary. Normally, if he'd awoken in this situation(tied up and taped down), he'd have thought something else entirely was in order. But this stranger didn't really look like the type to kiss and make up.

He cleared his throat from behind the tape and found the action painful.

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[info]wolfishane
2010-04-25 05:30 am UTC (link)
When Shane combed through the apartment, before Trenton woke up, he'd found a few items of note.

The first was the painting in the bedroom. It was massive, and the sight of something so vain as a huge depiction of Trenton's own face in his bedroom somehow managed to deepen his disgust for him. So did the half a pharmacy of drugs in his nightstand. Pill bottles, cocaine, heroin. He still didn't know exactly what it was that Boyd overdosed on, but clearly, she'd had options. The thought made his blood run cold.

On his way back out into the living room, he caught a touch of Boyd's scent. It was faint, but it was still there, and he went still as soon as he noticed it.

Then it was gone again. She had to have been here only a few days ago, so it made sense that traces of her were still lingering.

Underneath the clean, light scent he knew there was the dark, musky tang of fear.

After that he'd laid out his tools, waited for Trenton to wake up. As soon as he saw that he was awake, he got up and walked over to the stereo, which was still lightly playing music. He sifted through Trenton's CD collection. What awful taste. Boring electronica, hip hop record after hip hop record. He finally stuck a random disk in the stereo, pushed it in, and then cranked up the volume. The song had a heavy bass beat, which made it perfect for his purposes, and he walked back over to Trenton.

He touched the edge of the tape.

"That should be loud enough that no one will hear you if you scream," he said. His tone was flat, and he moved with a direct economy of body language. He clearly wasn't too worried about being found out. The very fact that he'd chosen not to obscure his face should be a clue to Trenton that this encounter was planned out to end a certain way.

He reached behind him, into his bag, and pulled out a very long knife.

"If you scream, I'm going to cut you. And since no one is going to hear you, it's a futile endeavor." He positioned the knife with the tip resting flat against Trenton's collar bone.

"Admit what you did."

He pulled the tape off.

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[info]cyprian
2010-04-25 05:53 am UTC (link)
It was a shame, too. he really liked this record, Jay Z was truly one of the greats, but once that bass started pulse through the room in thick, physical waves.. Trenton got the feeling that the song might be ruined for him. He already didn't much care for what was going on here, and the fact that he was tied to a chair wasn't comforting that it would be getting better in the long run.

Trenton squinted at the stranger when he approached, but didn't struggle against the ties. In the few moments after he'd awoken, Trenton recognized that he could barely move more than an inch either way, and even that had been a strain. His dark eyebrows twitched above quizzical eyes when the man touched the tape and explained that Trenton shouldn't scream. Yeah fucking right. If that tape was coming off, he was going to sing like a canary.

Then the knife came out, and Trenton resigned himself rather quickly to not making a sound. When the point of the blade touched down on an inked clavicle, Trenton's pulse fluttered in the side of his neck like a trapped bird. Fuck. He didn't even have to feign worry, it was there. Real and actual in his gem-toned eyes. While Trenton had some hobbies that could have made a pornstar sick to their stomach, he really wasn't one for violence.

The tape was ripped off and Trenton winced, coughing softly to clear the tender pang in his throat from damn near being choked out. "The fuck, man, I.." Trenton hung his head, getting accustomed to the feeling of fresh air on his tongue. Admit what he did? He racked his brain frantically for a moment. It wasn't so much a question of what he'd done, as what he hadn't done. Shit, was this about Aaron? He could almost think so, but at the same time.. this knife-wielding psycho could be here for a whole fucking variety of things he'd done in the past months. People he'd wronged, girls he'd fucked and fucked over, etc.

"I.." He winced, glancing up at the knife man with a pained expression of cluelessness. Trenton was beginning to get the impression that if he didn't come up with an answer, it was going to hurt a whole lot. Asking to buy a vowel was, of course, his first idea.. but even he wasn't a sarcastic jackass when somebody was waving a razor-sharp knife -- which might as well have been a fucking samurai sword, because NO knife should be that long -- in his face.

He grimaced with an exhale, as if just waiting for the stabbing to commence. "Hypothetically, are you going to.. cut me.. if I ask for a hint?"

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[info]wolfishane
2010-04-25 05:58 am UTC (link)
Shane felt a satisfying twist in the pit of his stomach when he saw fear in Trenton's eyes. He pressed the knife in a little tighter. This was dangerous, and he knew it. He also knew that he could never allow what had happened to Boyd just to pass, not when she herself didn't even seem to understand what had happened to her. Vaughn had put her in the position she'd been in when she came to Trenton, and she'd get hers. Trenton, however, was an accessible target.

"Boyd." He wasn't here to play twenty questions.

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[info]cyprian
2010-04-25 06:10 am UTC (link)
"Woah, woah, woah!" Trenton tried to keep his voice from rising, but the panic took it louder when that knife pressed a little firmer. He tried to escape it, cramming himself back against the chair as much as possible. When that didn't help, he resorted to holding his breath, as if even a hard exhale would cut him.

"Boyd?" Absolutely flabbergasted, Trenton's mouth fell open as he tried to find the words. "Look, I didn't know she was fucked up when she came over here.." Had she been? Trenton couldn't remember much, having already been quite out of it himself, but he felt assured that she must have been. "I did NOT mean for that to happen, it was a fucking accident, okay?!"

Even as he was speaking, all of his attention was on the knife and not the ominous man. Trenton was making his case to the shiny steel poking him. "And I got her help, anyway! She's FINE! You are REALLY overreacting. If I hadn't given it to her, she'd have gotten it somewhere else. HER ARMS WERE FULL OF FUCKING HOLES, MAN. She's lucky she was here with me and not on the fucking street where they'd have left her in a goddamn dumpster and been done with it!"

He was rambling now, his high beginning to wane enough that he was forced to acknowledge he might be in serious trouble.

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[info]wolfishane
2010-04-25 06:18 am UTC (link)
Things did not get better for Trenton the longer he talked. Shane's eyes darkened, and by the time he was talking about the needle scars on her arms he was shaking his head.

He waited for him to shut up for half a second, then pressed the knife in. He slipped it under the skin, and cut slowly along his clavicle, neatly skinning the strip of flesh.

Then he pulled the knife out, wiped the blood off of the knife on the curve of his shoulder, and cut Trenton's shirt off. He positioned it again, between his ribs. "I could kill you right now. I'm not going to. I'm going to give you another opportunity to admit what you did." He was patient. He could wait. Even if waiting was hard, even if the twisting, snapping thing in him wanted, more and more insistently, for Trenton to be dead right now.

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[info]cyprian
2010-04-25 06:29 am UTC (link)
Trenton had been stabbed before, but this hurt. This was a whole separate realm of hurt where it was the only thing he could think of, and even when the asshole pulled that knife from his skin, the pain was still there. Hot and cold. There were tears in Trenton's eyes, but he couldn't feel them. The only thing he could feel was where the knife had been, and where it was repositioned to against his ribs.

"WHAT?" He shouted in anguish then, couldn't help it. It was impossible for Trenton to not border on hysterics. He jerked against his restraints, more now than he ever had before. There was pain fueling him, but it got him nowhere.

"I gave her the drugs, she asked for them! She asked me! I didn't know she was going to.. going to.." He could remember her pale face then, vacant and seizing. Trenton choked on a wordless sob of agonized frustration.

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[info]wolfishane
2010-04-25 06:49 am UTC (link)
He dug the point of the knife into his ribs, withdrew it, moved it along about an inch, and then did it again. And again, and again, like he was calmly serrating him for tearing in half later.

"She was drugged, probably out of her mind, and couldn't have put up a fight to you. She never had a chance, did she?"

He stabbed the knife into his left side, where it would hurt like nothing else but manage not to be fatal. Not immediately, anyway. He was slipping. The growl in his voice got thicker as his fury coiled tighter. "Did she try to push you off? Did she cry? I know--I know she was scared."

He twisted the knife.

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[info]cyprian
2010-04-25 07:03 pm UTC (link)
With each exploratory, tenderizing punch of that knife point, Trenton's bare chest lurched. Every cut left him wincing, cringing away to nowhere. "I tried to help her, I.." His words were soft, and moaned mostly to himself until the stranger spoke. Trenton's expression knit in painful understanding of just what the stranger was saying. Trenton was suddenly adamant, "No, I.."

The knife plunged into his side and he went wordless on a gasp. Then there was just an agonizing, silent second where he couldn't even breathe. It didn't matter that he was strapped down, in that moment he didn't move. His chest heaved with a revival of breaths, panicked and too quick when he looked down at the blade embedded in his side. "Oh, God.."

"No, no.." Did she try to push you off? "No!" He wanted to explain.. that wasn't what happened! It wasn't like that. When he'd realized Boyd was seizing beneath him, he'd stopped. They always got high and had sex. Always meaning that one time.

Did she cry? "No.." Trenton pleaded until the knife twisted, and then he dropped his head with a shallow, keening sound of pain.

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[info]wolfishane
2010-04-25 10:28 pm UTC (link)
That sound that he made--all it made him want to do was push the knife deeper. It took every scrap of his restraint not to, to remind himself that this had to be slower than that. His hand shook, knuckles white.

He grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanked his head up, and pulled the knife out. "I'm hearing denial," he said, holding Trenton's gaze. The knife was slick and dripping red onto the carpet.

He placed the flat of the blade against his cheek, the point of the knife about an inch from his eye.

"Maybe I should blind you," he said. He moved the knife again, holding it point out from the back of his neck.

"Or leave you a fucking quadriplegic." A pause, an inquisitive tilt of the head, blue eyes burning. "Which do you prefer?"

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[info]cyprian
2010-04-25 10:43 pm UTC (link)
When the knife was ripped from his side, it wasn't a relief. The wound burned against the open air, and he could feel blood spewing down his hip. Thankfully, Trenton couldn't see the red beginning to soak the pale carpet, he was beginning to feel sick.

Blue eyes met blue eyes and Trenton shrank against the chair when that knife's tip waved up near his face again Denial? You bet. "Ask her, you fucking ask her." Why couldn't he stop shaking? His muscles shivered and shuddered and Trenton swallowed convulsively around the sickening fear in the back of his throat. Jay Z still jammed on.

"SHE took her clothes off, SHE got in my lap. I didn't force her into fucking anything!" Get serious, did Trenton look like he needed to assault women for sex? He wanted to make that point, but wasn't feeling quite so cocky with his numerous knife wounds.

When the knife ventured near his neck, Trenton shouted, "What do you want?!" What was he supposed to say? What was the goddamn safe word?

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[info]wolfishane
2010-04-25 11:19 pm UTC (link)
He shifted his grip on the knife. Sometime in the last ten seconds he'd gotten claws, which made it considerably more difficult to hold.

"You could have proven you had a right to live," he said. "Just a scrap of guilt. An edge. Something."

The urge to tear into him, to really rip him apart, was so close that he could taste his blood on his tongue. It would be very, very easy to give in completely, let his bones crack and twist. He could be just the wolf, revel in victory while glutting himself on Trenton's flesh.

Pulling back from that was a physical effort. He stood on the edge, and he looked down.

Apparently there was further still to fall than where he was. What had somebody said about humanity being something you had to earn?

And what was this in front of him? Some bleeding, keening shell of a playboy, a rapist with pictures of himself in his bedroom. This wasn't worth that.

He put the knife back into his bag. He stood in front of Trenton for a moment, watching him try to catch a breath. Pathetic.

"You tell anyone what happened here today, I'll see to it that you're put on trial for rape. And I mean anyone. And if you even so much as fucking touch another woman, I will fucking kill you. That is a promise."

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[info]cyprian
2010-04-26 12:14 am UTC (link)
And just like that, it seemed to be over. Trenton's head rocked back as if loosely held in place, watching the stranger before him. He wisely said nothing and his breathing began to even out. He just watched the stranger, bloodshot eyes going just a little glazed from shock. So obtuse in this moment that he didn't even register the claws, his tunnel vision was strictly for the knife that disappeared back inside it's bag.

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[info]wolfishane
2010-04-26 12:18 am UTC (link)
He picked the phone up from the floor, dialed 911, and put it in Trenton's slack hand.

"You can hit send once I'm out the door."

He didn't back that up with a threat. He didn't feel he needed to. He put his hands in his pockets to hide the claws, and checked out the peephole. The coast was clear.

Then he left, without further ado, walking down the hall. All he wanted was to go home, take a shower to get the stink of the penthouse off him, and sleep.

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