Abel Parrish + Fenrir (devourer) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-03-22 09:53:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | fenrir |
i need to return some videotapes
Who: Abel & Andre [NPC].
What: Abel follows up on his promise to Daniel.
Where: Mercy Mission.
When: Day after this thread.
Rating: R for violence, strangulation.
Abel had never been to this particular halfway house, but he was familiar with the nonprofit's work throughout Los Angeles. There were a number of Mercy Missions, situated in various areas -- mostly poverty stricken sections of Hollywood, areas where those who had done their time and served their sentence could be kept out of sight and thus out of mind, their existence all but erased from society at large. This halfway point was closer to Burbank; not the furthest Abel had ever driven for his job, but no small distance either. He parked across the street, his burgundy four-door immediately lost among the other barely maintained vehicles. It was always best to not stand out.
Running a hand down his shirt, he got out and tucked his briefcase with his day planner and a few files he'd gotten together on this Andre Cooper. A 24-year-old Latino male, barely finished high school, a small list of misdemeanors throughout his juvenile years that were loud signposts of where he'd end up next. All in all, a run of the mill parolee who would more than likely end up back in the system before too long. Abel slammed his car door shut and turned toward the house, eyeing its red brick exterior for a moment, giving a longer consideration than was perhaps was due. Why he was there, he didn't quite know, but it was good to get out. Meet new people. He never had much work with parolees, his cases revolving more around those with impending trials rather than previous convictions (though one did not preclude the other), so for all his mind knew, it was a nice change of pace.
That was, until he saw Andre. The man was the one to greet him at the door, wearing a quintessential white wife beater over jeans; the halfway house manager was out right then, chaperoning another client to a job interview since most who lived there lacked vehicles and were still getting comfortable with the public transportation system. Abel's first sight of the man was through a screen door, the shade darkening his skin to a copper tone that made his features instantly look like those of someone else's. Abel had to take a moment, Andre questioning his presence twice before he finally shoved his brain back into working order.
"Yes, I'm Mr. Parrish. Daniel Ciin sent me, your caseworker? I'm here to talk a little, help you out."
Andre eyed him through the door, clearly distrustful, but Abel fixed a regular smile to his face and was welcomed inside regardless. Much like its tenants, everything inside the halfway house was used -- a hand-me-down couch covered with stains, pockmarks and tears; a TV with a cracked screen; walls covered in pen marks and ripped paint. The whole place stank of cigarettes and worse, probably from bad plumbing, but none of it washed over Abel as he was struck by the similarity between Andre and Rafael. Sure, there were specific differences -- Andre was shorter, a little thicker across the shoulders, but the same lithe body, the similar bone structure had Abel staring far more than Andre was clearly comfortable with. He led Abel into the dining room, shooting annoyed glances over his shoulder until he was able to put the table between himself and this alleged 'psychologist.'
Abel put his briefcase down on the table, popping it open to remove his planner and the case file, as though this would provide some assurance. Neither man sat.
"So Daniel tells me you're looking for work."
"Ay, yeah, somethin' simple, somethin' I can wrap my head aroun'. I'm not lookin' to go back, yah know, not lookin' to get mixed up in that shit again. Tryin' to get clean." Nails raked over the interior of one arm, Abel's eyes following the white scratches that rose over Andre's slightly tan skin. The glance made Andre frown.
"You got somethin' you wanna say?"
Abel pulled his gaze back to Andre's face, smiling placidly. "You just remind me of someone, that's all. Could you show me your room? A simple inspection is part of this process." He shrugged as Andre clearly looked conflicted. Years of COs ordering him out of his cell for inspection made him instantly acquiescent, but now that he was free, he seemed annoyed at still needing to follow prison rules. "Your choice, Andre. It's just a quick look, nothing more. You help me, I'll help you, right?"
Andre slowly nodded, and Abel clicked his briefcase shut. He lifted it as Andre moved around the table again, leading Abel toward a set of stairs leading toward the house's second floor. A few creaked as they were stepped on, but Abel's focus was entirely on the man in front of him. The black thing in his head coiled tightly, wrapping harder and harder around his brain as he remembered the belt around Rafael's throat, the way his face had turned a bulging purple even as he struggled to keep his lips wrapped around Abel's cock. The faint press of the other man's hands against his thighs as they fell away, oxygen deprivation starving his brain and ultimately his body. Why he hadn't finished the job then and there, Abel wasn't sure; sometimes the chase was more exciting than the kill, but with his heart beating doubletime in that moment, the stink of weed and nicotine bleeding off of Andre in front of him as he reached the landing and directed Abel toward one of five bedrooms that all shared a singular bathroom, it was hard to concentrate.
"After you," he said as Andre stopped outside the room, motioning for Abel to enter first. Andre scowled, but complied. The room was much like the rest of the house; stained walls, no pictures, a simple bed with a desk against one wall, a large window with the curtains pulled. Andre went to move them back and allow more light into the room, but Abel stopped him. "What kind of wardrobe do you have, Andre? I just want to be sure you're interview ready."
"You know, this ain't like no interview I've ever had before. Even my lawyer didn't give a fuck about what underwear I wore to my hearing." He turned away from the window, openly glaring at Abel, his hands in fists at his sides.
Abel set his briefcase down by the door, one hand lingering by his throat as he popped open a button. "That's unfortunate, Andre. I'm sorry if this feels irregular, but really, it's all part of the procedure. Now let's see; ties? Dress shirts? What about slacks?"
Andre paused by the curtains, but he was effectively trapped in the room with Abel by the only entrance and exit. He heaved a deep sigh and finally went for the closet, turning his back to Abel with no small amount of hesitation. Abel lingered by the door, then slowly trotted toward the middle of the room, his eyes burning a hole in the small of Andre's back. Andre started sorting through a few things he had in the closet, some secondhand clothes purchased from Goodwill, provided by the halfway house to help him continue on his path toward rehabilitation. Abel didn't wonder if it was a sad thing that he'd never get there; he also didn't think he was doing society a service by removing this would-be, has-been thug from its dregs. The only thought in his mind, as he walked up behind Andre and swiftly put an arm around the other man's throat was to be sure that he pressed down hard enough on his windpipe to cut off his airflow.
Andre struggled. His arms flew up, one hand trying to strike Able in the face. To counter this, Abel tucked his head behind Andre's, pressing his nose into the man's unwashed hair. He smelled nothing like Rafe; there was no freshness, no lingering warmth from the sun. Abel gritted his teeth, pulling tighter on the arm around Andre's neck; his hand looped around his wrist, helping the endeavor. Andre gasped, trying to kick back and hit Abel's shins, but he was too short to present much of a threat to the lanky, tall man. Abel shushed him, feeling the last bit of consciousness go out of him as Andre slumped in his arms. The man's face was dark, perhaps a sign of his soul having already evacuated his body, but Abel knew better. Asphyxiation took time, took effort, and he would not be thwarted here. He let Andre fall to the floor with a thump, comforted by the fact that they were alone in the house.
Sorting through the closet, Abel hummed a nameless tune as he pulled out a few ties. One was red and white striped, like a candy cane, the other blue with a faint paisley print. Both were worn, old, used. The blue seemed slightly tougher as Abel pulled it out and tried it between his hands, pulling to see if he could hear or see cloth give way. Satisfied, he bent and pulled Andre to sitting.
"It's always important to look our best," he murmured, remembering words from his grandmother shortly before she'd belt him for not having tied his Sunday tie correctly. Abel carefully put it around the man's neck, making a noose knot and pulling it tight about Andre's throat. "People don't respect those who don't speak properly, don't dress as they should. Appearance. Is. Everything."
He hefted Andre up, lifting the man with his arms stretched out over Abel's shoulders so he could use his hands to tie the other end of the tie around the door's little octopus-shaped hangers, meant for coats. They were empty now, so Abel was happy to give them a purpose. Life wasn't worth much without a purpose, but now Andre had found one -- giving Abel happiness -- and Abel didn't see anything wrong with that picture. Andre hung fairly neatly, given his short stature and the careful way Abel had done the knots. Surveying his handiwork for a moment, Abel only regretted that he couldn't have done more; sadly, it would have been too obvious, too telling if he'd had his usual play, and this was better than nothing. He gave Andre a little pat on the head, then closed the door carefully, wishing that he could see the surprise on the face of whoever found him.
Turning away from the closet, Abel breathed out, closing his eyes as he felt the thick, black feeling in his mind dissipate. He rebuttoned the top button of his shirt, collected his briefcase, and serendipitously made his way back downstairs without running into anyone or anything.
He left in the same manner as he'd arrived; without hurry, without looking as though anything were amiss. He even lingered for a moment in the car, flipping through radio channels as he sought just the right song for the moment. The light rock and roll poured out of the speakers, and Abel nodded along as he pulled out of his parallel parking spot and into the street, heading back to his office and toward his next assignment.
"I used to be a renegade, I used to fool around
But I couldn't take the punishment, and had to settle down
Now I'm playing it real straight, and yes I cut my hair
You might think I'm crazy, but I don't even care..."