City of IF

[The Dark]

This tale contains graphic scenes, and will not be suitable for the weak minded.


The Dark.

The underbelly was his favourite. It was where the dregs hung out, the ones who had fallen to the very lowest rung of the ladder. The addicts, the deformed, the outcasts. Murders, rapists, child molesters and worse, far worse, all lurked within the comforting shadows.

Easy prey.

He moved through the night as only one born into darkness could. The black cloak trailing behind like a shadow with a life of its own, whirling and flapping as if mist in a chill breeze. Long boots splashed through shallow pools of foul liquid and filthy debris. Black. His garments were all black, so that only his face, pale and white, could be seen moving, like a sinister, shocking, skull floating through the underworld.

The vast weight of the steel and concrete city seemed to press down upon this, the lowest of all the thousands of levels, adding to the feeling of oppression and hopelessness as he searched for his first victim.

An addict lay sprawled against one of the massive c’rete pillars, her drug riddled body lying in a pool of her own filth. She was blissfully unaware of the world around her, consumed within the high the drug had, temporarily, bestowed upon her.

He smiled and withdrew his knife. Such were poor specimens, but the night was yet young, and this lost soul would serve as an appetizer for the slaughter that was promised.

Squatting next to the woman, he pulled her top down, tearing the cheap material to reveal the breasts beneath. A faded tattoo on her belly proclaimed love for someone called ‘Matty’.

He smiled, breath coming harder now, the excitement rising with the imminent act of desecration. He moved, trailing the knife up the skin, along the taught belly and over the dark nipple. Up, past the neck, over the chin and nose, the cold metal caressed the flesh lovingly as it went, as a lover would before the act of lust.

The eyes. The window to the soul. They had to be open, the victim must be aware of her demise. He flicked the blade with precision a surgeon would have envied. There was a splash of colour in the gray of night, and a gasp. She stirred, pain filtering through the stupor provided by the narcotics. Light, albeit dim, filtered into her visions as one eyelid was cut away.

Another deft movement, and she was unable to look away from the face of her killer. He smiled down, black teeth shining against the white skin, a negative image invading her hallucinations.

“Whaa…?”

“Your time has come. You should be honoured.” The voice slithered into her brain, somehow waking her as the pain had yet not.

“Hurts…”

“It shall hurt more yet.”

The knife moved down, and this time cut into the flesh of the breast, slicing the nipple off easily, the tender meat no match for the edge of the dagger.

This time she screamed, a lone sound cutting through the quiet of the night.

Immediately shadows moved, scuttling away from the disturbance, wanting no part of it.

“You are alone with me now,” he said. Another slice, and more blood flowed, running down her body, eclipsing the declaration of love for Matty under its dark red river.

“Ohh,” he was excited now, barely able to contain restrain himself from finishing her. The pain flowed upwards, and he absorbed it, feasting on every nuance, drawing the power to his dark centre.

“Noo.. please…” she was stirring, the injuries sending messages that pierced her cocoon of euphoria, replacing it with another kind of bliss, a dark one, both the opposite and yet the same.

“It’s nearly done, you are lucky.” The knife went down, slicing the skin as it moved to the junction at the top of the legs, cutting away the flimsy fabric as it traveled towards the place that gave pleasure. The irony was it could give pain too, exquisite pain.

Her scream pierced the dark, loud and clear and beautiful, so that those asleep in their warm beds so far above surely shared the moment.

“You! What the fuck are you… oh my god!”

The light. Intruding, violating the climax, robbing him of his meal. He flung himself backwards, away from the foulness.

Figures. Men, women in uniform. All food should it be another place, another time. Now they brought light.

He hissed, once, and vanished, leaving her sobbing and bleeding on the floor behind. The lights stabbed after him, like snakes striking blindly, futilely slashing through the dark in a mad attempt to locate him.

There was a flash of white as one passed over his face, and then he was gone. This was his domain, they wouldn’t catch him, but he would be back, and he would feed. They would know his name, they would know his touch. They would fear.

And he would feed on them all.

[The Dark]

This is merely an introduction chapter. The Dark will return.

You are welcome to comment. The Dark will listen.

[Phang]

I'm afraid to say I did a yergback when I got to the nipple removal. But I can tell it is a good story already, and I'm intruiged. I'll try to finish this chapter. o-)

[Phang]

The Dark wrote: barely able to contain restrain himself from finishing her.

Found an error as I read.

Meanwhile, very good! Please continue, Darky Boy. ;)

[Chinaren]

Interesting introduction there Darko. I think Messy's going to like you. ;)

[Whisperer]

Quote: Murders, rapists, child molesters and worse

Should be murderers?

Interesting read, this is my kind of story.

[Mephistopheles]

impressive. a bit anti climatic at the end, but, nicely done. the others caught the few errors that i spotted. Looking forward to seeing where the dark will go with this story.

[Crunchyfrog]

Yeech! Not my cup of tea really, but it is well written. I'll certainly read the next instalment, as it is intriguing.

Only one technicality I spotted - a bit of word repetition...

Quote: She stirred, pain filtering through the stupor provided by the narcotics. Light, albeit dim, filtered into her visions as one eyelid was cut away.


Thanks for putting up the warning at the beginning of your work. It may be wise to colour the warning in red, though.

Welcome to IF!

[DELETED]

DELETED

[The Dark]

This tale contains graphic scenes, and will not be suitable for the weak or young.



Chapter 1. Dirty Cop.

Detective Inspector Gavin Gloom pulled the cruiser up in the handicapped space. Stubbing out his cigar, he swung the door open and stepped outside. Pausing for a moment in the dim light filtering down through the Heights, he scratched the stubble on his chin and spat on the floor.

Glaring at a woman who was passing by, he closed the car door with a slam and walked around to Donny’s Pizzeria. The large window of the shop was clean, unlike most along this street. Gloom paused for a moment and ran his hand through his slicked back dark hair, admiring his reflection.

The cop was a fit man, physically anyway. Standing tall with enhanced muscles, he looked like someone you wouldn’t want to cross. Dark eyes glared out from under bushy eyebrows. The square jaw was covered with a calculated stubble, enough to make the ladies look twice for sure. He was wearing his favourite black jeans and tan leather jacket, his non-regulation firearm protruded a little more than it should have from his shoulder holster, but he liked it like that. It reminded the punks who he was. One of New Fallows’ finest. Ha! There was a joke. Finest indeed.

Smiling grimly to himself he took a deep breath. Donny hadn’t paid his fees lately, and the people who pulled the strings had become annoyed. The usual collector had asked for help, so they’d sent Gloom in.

The door tinkled as he opened it and strode through. It was early yet, and the small eating area beyond was empty of diners. Ten or eleven basic plastic tables were set up, ready for customers. A checkered table cloth covered each one, making the otherwise sterile environment a little more welcoming. A skinny man with short black hair was cleaning the black and white tiled floor. He looked up as Gavin entered.

“May I help you?”

“You Donny?” asked Gloom. Straight down to business, he had a date with a whore from the lower levels later, and didn’t want to be late. The little bitch was into some seriously kinky shit.

“Did they send you?” Immediately the little man became defensive. Clutching his mob in both hands, psyching himself up for the encounter almost visibly.

“Yeah. You’re late. Hand over the payment, plus a ten percent charge right now, and this won’t go at all badly.” Gloom held a hand out, palm up.

“Okay okay! Wait a moment, I’ll get it.” Donny leant the mop against the wall and scurried around to the cash register, opening the till.

Gloom’s mind was still on the upcoming date, so he reacted a little slowly when Donny came charging out, knife held high and a look of hatred twisted onto his face. “I’ll kill you! Send them your body instead! I’ve had enough of you bullies!”

“Shit!” Gloom danced back, barely avoiding the swipe that cut a slash down the side of his arm.

“You little fuck!” he shouted. Dodging behind a table he pulled his gun out and shot the bastard in the leg. Blood splattered over the floor, and bone splintered as the bullet took out the joint. Had he been using hollow point, it would have taken the leg entirely off, as it was the lower half remained attached, hanging off several muscles.

Donny fell to the floor screaming, clutching the wound, his leg at an obscene angle, the bone protruding, a white splinter against a shock of red.

“Daddy!” Another voice came from the back, and a girl, young, maybe late teens came running out, to crouch over the shopkeeper. “Oh daddy!”

“He’ll be okay, wrap it up with this.” Gloom threw a towel over and examined her. Tight bod, nice tits, long black hair. He was always a sucker for long black hair.

“Who are you? What have you done?” The girl sobbed as she wrapped the cloth around the leg, staunching the bleeding only a little.

“You’re late for payment,” Gloom said, unmoved as he holstered the gun. “Added to that, I could charge your pop here with assault on a police officer.” He flashed his badge.

“Pig!” the daughter spat. “You cops are all the same.”

“Pay up and I’ll call in an ambulance,” was Glooms only reply.

“Help yourself,” she said, gesturing at the checkout.

Gloom stepped over the girl, admiring the view down her top for a second as he passed by. Moving over to the till he opened it and rifled through the contents. There was enough, just about.

“There’s not enough here,” he said, pocketing the cash.

“Fuck you!” the girl cried. “Just call for help, he’s dying.”

Gloom picked his nose and examined the result before stepping back up to the two. “Tell you what, to make up the shortfall how about a little action? You’re cute enough. How old are you anyway?”

“I’m fifteen you sick fuck!” wailed the girl.

Fifteen eh? Gloom scratched his chin. They grew up fast today. Still, pussy was pussy. Nice and tight at fifteen too no doubt. “What’s it to be?” he said.

“Fine! Whatever you want! Just call for help!” The girl wiped her nose, spreading mucus over her face.

The cop nodded and touched his radio. “Civilian down, Donny Pizzeria on 212. Urgent.”

He waited for the confirmation and then nodded. “It’s on the way.”

“Thank-you,” whispered the girl, cradling her father in her arms.

The man was pale, probably the blood loss, which was pooling out on the floor around them. Gloom stepped back and cursed. He’d got some on his shoe. Looking around he pulled a table cloth off a table and wiped it clean. By the time he’d done that he could hear the sirens approaching. There was a screech of tires outside.

Moments later the door burst open and two men in green overalls ran in. They looked at Gloom, who pointed to the man on the floor.

The first medic knelt down and spoke to Donny. “Sir! Do you have insurance?”

“We have cover, First National,” screamed the girl. “Just help him!”

The paramedic nodded to his partner, and they pushed the girl away as they started their work, spraying the wound with med-foam to keep it clean.

Gloom stepped up to the girl and pulled her hair back so she was forced to look at him. She was pretty alright. “I’ll be back for my payment,” he said.

She nodded numbly. Probably had had five boyfriends already he thought, little slut. “Tell your pop that he better not be late with the next payment, or I won’t be so forgiving. You understand?”

She nodded again and he let her go. “How will he be?” he asked the medics, who were preparing to move Donny.

“He’ll be okay,” said one.

“Alright then.” The cop looked at his watch. Still enough time to make his date. He left the shop, leaving the sobbing girl and the wounded man behind. By the time he started his car, he’d practically forgotten them.

_


‘Control to five five, come in five five.’ The radio squealed, interrupting Gloom’s relaxed mood.

“Shit,” he said. He pulled his arm from underneath the naked body of the whore and sat up on the bed, reaching for his radio.

“Baby, don’t go,” she said sleepily.

“Shut the fuck up bitch,” he snapped, “I’m on duty here. Some of us work for our living you know.” He picked up the radio. “I’m here, what’s up?”

‘You’re need on level one. Now.’

“Level what? Level one? Are you shitting me?”

‘Just get here.’

“Fuck. Okay, I’m on my way.” He threw the radio back down and stood up, reaching for his pants. “Gotta go babe. See you in a couple of days, right?”

“Sure honey.” The whore pulled the blanket up, covering her ample tits, and rolled over.

“Here’s a bit of spending money for you,” Gloom said, dropping a hundred onto the side. “You were pretty good today.”

“Thanks lover,” she said, waving a hand, still not looking at him.

Gloom pulled the rest of his clothes on and stepped out of the apartment. The whore lived in a decent mid-level block. Not exactly the Hilton, but not bad.

He took the elevator down to the car park and started the cruiser up again. The electric engine whining into life. He activated the sirens and gunned it into the main street, narrowly missing a kid on a bike.

What the fuck would be worth seeing on level one for craps’ sake? It was an unspoken agreement that the dregs and other losers could quietly kill themselves down there, and in turn the force wouldn’t have the hassle of trying to patrol it.

He took the expressway Down, flying past other drivers, reveling in the power the siren gave him to ignore traffic rules. Still, it took twenty minutes before he was on level one, the lowest level of the city. He turned on the lights and drove more slowly through trash strewn streets. Few people were out on the main roads. It wasn’t that kind of area.

Following his cars GPS, he finally pulled up alongside about a dozen cop cars who were parked around what was once probably a park. Their lights sent red and blue ghosts around the grey streets, bouncing off the bare branches of the dying trees.

He pulled up across the street and climbed out. Walking over to where a gaggle of uniforms were crowded around something. He pushed his way through.

“What you bums looking at?” he asked.

“Hey Inspector,” said one fat sergeant. Gloom knew him, his name was Nice, which had to be the most ironic name going, as the slob was probably the slimiest grease ball known to man. The uniform passed over a bunch of photos.

Gloom looked them over. It showed a young woman lying on an ambulance trolley. Her top was pulled up, to expose a nice pair of jugs, apart from someone had cut her up a bit. One tit was bandaged and some med-spray was covering a long cut down her stomach. She had a tattoo too, though he couldn’t read what it said.

“Who?” he asked.

“Dymond Prime,” came a new voice from behind him.

The Inspector turned around as the uniforms fled. Approaching him was Commissioner Samantha Ice, or the original bitch as she was often called. Ice was dressed in an immaculate Armani skirt. A matching jacket covered a spotless white blouse and her blond hair was tied back in a tight bun. She looked at Gloom with piercing blue eyes, eying him up and down like he was some kind of gutter creature.

Gloom nodded. “Commissioner,” he said, warily. If the Ice queen was here, then this was something big. It would take a lot to get her down here, on level one. She rarely left the upper levels, where she was usually found networking with the big nobs. It was rumored she was going to put herself forward for Office soon, and was busy screwing up enough money for her campaign. Gloom wasn’t sure about that. It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive, in a detached way, she was, but Ice by name, Ice by nature was his thinking on the matter. If anyone tried to fuck her their cock would probably freeze and snap off.

“Prime?” he said. “As in Reginald Prime? Tycoon and owner of half the city Reginald Prime?” Things were beginning to fall into place now. No wonder Ice was here, Prime was a powerful man. If he decided to get pissed at the police department, the Commissioner could say goodbye to any career in politics.

“The very same. She’s his daughter.” She gestured at the picture.

“Mmm, nice tits,” said Gloom.

“Maybe before someone tried cutting one off,” Ice said. She sighed and looked around the park with distaste, a sneer marring her perfectly schooled features. “She’s a junkie. Gave her bodyguards the slip and decided to go slumming it down here. The guards found her just as some weirdo was about to slice her open. He got away.”

“She’s okay?”

“She’s better than you or me,” Ice said. “They’ve got her in Madison General, her own private suite. Prime flew in a top surgeon from Taiwan to treat her.”

“Must be nice to have the money.”

Ice nodded, and then stuck a thin finger into his chest. “Listen, I don’t need to tell you that we need to find someone for this, and fast. You seem to get results, so you’re the lead on this. I don’t care what you do, find a perp, and find one fast.”

Gloom nodded, and she sniffed. “I expect good news soon then. Very soon.” With that she stalked away, climbed into a waiting limo and was whisked away, away from the squalor and back to her nice clean penthouse office.

Putting the photos in his pocket, Gloom walked over to the crime scene, which was cordoned off with red and white tape. “What we got?” he asked the technician in charge. A man tall man in a bright yellow hazmat suit.

“Not much,” the man said, looking at some instrument in his hand. “We’ve got some partial tracks, pretty unusual prints, looks like the guy barely weighed anything. He went over a patch of mud and sank into it about half a centimetre. You are I would be up to our ankles in it. Can’t match the shoe type either, nothing on the database. We do have this though.

He held up a plastic bag. Inside was a knife. It was a nasty looking thing, black serrated blade, with several marks in it. Dried blood coated the edge. “The blood is mostly Prime’s daughter, but also another. We ran a DNA scan, came up with some girl from the upper levels. Mary Wilde. Her mother reported her missing a week ago.”

“Okay. Thanks. Anything else?

“Nothing.”

“Great.” Gloom gave a last look around, and then went back to his cruiser. Scraping mud off his boot he climbed back into his car and swore. “Damn. Now I have to do some work.”

He started the engine and turned the car round. First stop then…

[Crunchyfrog]

... The upper levels! Go and find out who this Mary Wilde person is. Also it would be interesting to see the contrast between the upper levels and level 1.

Very well written, Darko, and the plot was engaging enough to keep this squeamish reader to keep going through to the end.

[NeverNeverGirl]

Oh Dark, what can i say?

I am loving it! the dark and twisty intro bit? masterful. there was a couple of things but they have all been pointed out...

the first chapter? the corruption has me hooked - how far will he go - is our hero a bad guy? and feed my curiousity about those other levels...

i am hooked!

DP? Go check out the other missing girl..

[Mephistopheles]

Some one has to say it, go back and tend to the girl, then go check out this Mary Wilde's mother. unless of course Gloom has some intimate knowledge of the knife, like a specialist that he goes to for fine cutlery and he knows that such a blade was made by aforementioned person. Then i would say he goes there. It may be that it is a very rare sort of person that buys that blade and Gloom can get a lead that way.

[The Dark]

Thank-you for reading. The Dark appreciates the comments.

Are there anymore suggestions for this tale of corruption,violence and vice?

[Lilith]

Having just read this today myself, I must say, I am impressed with the lack of grammar and spelling mistakes. And the plot is sticking together very nicely so far. Nice work on keeping the story tightly knit but I do have one small .. more like a curious comment than a question. Is this story going to be from mostly Gloom's point of view with "The Dark" as the antagonist?

[Bookwizard]

i have to say its well written, but i could hardly read the first intrudution, am not one to really like this type of story. i would read the first chapter, but i cant bring myself to, with that kind of wrriting skills, everthing seems to be acculay happing :blink: very good job though. ;)

[The Dark]

The Dark has figured out how to put up a poll.

Thank-you for voting. Let the foulness continue.

[Chinaren]

An enjoyable chapter there Darky. Thought I'd commented, but obviously not. Voted anyway. I'd like to see the upper levels too.

[The Dark]

This tale contains graphic scenes and adult language, and will not be suitable for the feeble of brain or young.



Chapter 2. Level Ninety Three.

He started the engine and turned the car around. First stop had to be the upper levels. His supply of Crush was low anyway, might as well kill to birds with one stone. Besides, there was Melissa up there too. It’d had been a while since he’d had a bit of tail from something upper class, and it wouldn’t do to leave it too long. She needed to be reminded who helped her get that modeling job, and hence the pleasant lifestyle she now enjoyed.

Gloom’s cruiser surged forward as his mind lingered on the better part of Melissa’s assets. He put his foot down, eager to get out of the shit of the lowest level, and the car powered along the nearly empty street, reaching the up ramp as if as eager as its master to get out of the shadows.

The powerful police vehicle flew along the road, the wide tires droning along the synthcrete surface as it raced along. Second, Third, Fourth, off roads to the oldest and darkest areas of the massive city structure flashed by in a blur on the empty streets. By the time he’d reached the Twenty Fifth level he’d had to turn on his siren again to get by the traffic.

Upwards he went, past the industrial zone on the Thirties and into the mid levels once again. By now sunlight was filtering down more and more often as the structures began to thin out a little. He caught a glance of some of the upper towers when he hit level Seventy and the more exclusive residence districts.

The road widened here, and plants began to make an appearance along the side, adding a welcome flash of green to the grey of the upway.

Gloom checked his nav system, requesting the address of Mary Wilde from the central database. It flashed up on the cruisers’ HUD and he whistled. Level Ninety Three! That was nearly the upper limit for residences. Wilde had to have some serious cash to live there.

At level Eighty he had to slow down and crawl through a checkpoint. His car transmitted his ID at the gate, and it slid to one side to let him though. Beyond this the traffic levels dropped, and the vehicles that cruised the roads tended to be mostly high end models.

A new black Merx V50 slid past him. He glared at the SUV enviously. The car was damned expensive, kitted out with the latest AI autodriver and hover tech. The tinted windows didn’t allow him to see in, but, on a whim, Gloom activated his Intrusion cam, using the police override to tap into the vans’ internal monitor. Sitting inside, laying back on a pale tan seat, a fat man was busy getting a blowjob from a svelte blond chick. Gloom hit the record button. If that was that fat cunts’ wife he was a monkey’s uncle. He slid in behind the car and tagged the ID, pulling up the owners’ details. Norman Harold Jones, big time trader on the Hydrogen exchange markets. Married to Sylvia Jones who, from the accompanying picture, was certainly not the one sitting with her mouth around Mr. Jones’ dick.

Gloom smiled to himself. Nice. A bit of blackmail judiciously applied could supplement the income nicely. He kept the recording going and powered past the Merx, watching as Mr. Jones quivered and jerked around, finally delivered his load into the blonde’s mouth.

Just in time. He slowed down and approached another checkpoint on level Ninety. This one was accompanied by an actual traffic cop. Again, his ID got him through with no problems. He drove on, leaving Jones and Co. behind.

The sunlight was almost constant now, and it was almost as good as being on the surface by the time he reached the turn off for Ninety Three. Towering above him were the spires of the commercial blocks, the spacescrapers’ glass and carbon structures sparkled in the sun, and Gloom reached for his shades.

The road into the residential levels on Ninety Three went through a park, complete with windows set into the floor, allowing views down into the Below. The city’s many levels far beneath a dizzying site for those who didn’t suffer from vertigo.

Gloom ignored it as he followed his nav through the wide and pleasant streets towards the residence of Wilde. When he found it he was a little disappointed. It was big right enough, but hardly a match for some of the glorious mansions he’d passed on the way. Still far bigger than his own squat back down on Forty Nine though.

He pulled up outside the black gates, and the auto system patched into the house, ‘ringing the doorbell’ for him. A second or two passed, and a middle aged woman appeared on the screen. She had carefully styled blonde hair and a tired expression.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Detective Inspector Gloom,” he said.

“You’re early,” she said, frowning. “The latest batch isn’t ready yet.”

Gloom only paused for a fraction of a second at this unexpected response. “Still, I’d like to come in,” he said, his face betraying none of his confusion.

“Very well.” The woman disappeared and the gate slid open, allowing Gloom to drive his cruiser up a long black drive to the main building, which was a reasonable sized two storey structure apparently made of sandy coloured stone.

He powered the car down and climbed out just as the front door opened. The woman from gate monitor peered out and he nodded at her as he approached, his footsteps crunching on the gravel that lined the ground here.

“I told you,” she said, “you’re way too early. It’s not ready yet. Hey, are you new?”

Gloom ignored the question and looked her up and down slowly. She wasn’t bad for an older broad. Decent figure, firm tits and a sharp face with cold amber eyes that stared at him with dislike. “Are you Ms. Wilde? Mother of Mary Wilde?”

The woman looked at him, and for a moment a trace of emotion flitted across her visage. Then it was gone. “Have… have you found her?”

“No, but I need to ask you some more questions. May I come in?” Gloom was beginning to form a suspicion, and he didn’t wait for a response but pushed her to one side and stepped inside. She hesitated a moment, but then closed the door and followed him.

He walked through the entrance hallway and pushed at a doorway at the end. Opening this he found himself in a different world, and he smiled to himself.

The interior of the lower floor was basically all one area. However, it was split into two. The part he had entered was nicely enough furnished, with carpet, some chairs and a table or two. Nothing fancy, but decent enough. Lounging in one of these chairs, reading a small e-book, was a large unkempt man in jeans and a t-shirt. He had long black hair tied up in dreadlocks, and his chin was unshaven. A stubby nosed automatic weapon was on the coffee table in front of him. The man glanced at him once, but then ignored him, returning to his story.

The other side of the room was partitioned off behind a transparent wall which ran from floor to ceiling, wall to wall. The people in the room beyond, most of them sitting around a long table, were all wearing masks and busy concentrating on their various tasks, which seemed to involve a lot of light blue powder.

“Crush,” said Gloom.

“You’re not from… my precinct are you?” asked Mrs. Wilde, catching up with him. “If you’re thinking of causing trouble…”

Gloom laughed and waved a hand. “Quiet woman. I’m not going to blab on fellow officers. I was admiring the setting, that’s all. You do things nicely on the upper levels.”

“What do you want then?”

“Well, whilst I’m here, a bit of a free sample wouldn’t go amiss, in the name of good relations yes?” Gloom smiled insincerely at the woman, who nodded.

“Very well,” she said, walking over to a pile of boxes marked ‘Candy Canes’ in the corner. She pulled one open and dug out a small clear bag of powder, which she gave to the police officer. “Is that all?”

Putting the Crush in his pocket Gloom shook his head. “I want to know where you last saw your daughter,” he said.

“My daughter? You ignore me for a week and then suddenly you’re interested?”

“We’re here to serve the community,” lied Gloom. “Now, are you going to tell me or not?” He didn’t mention the knife with blood on. No sense in risking a hysterical mother before he had the information he needed.

The older Wilde sighed. “She used to hang out with a gang. The Gadabouts or something they called themselves. Used to steal some stuff to give them sometimes too, little bitch. I had trouble because of that once.”

“Just the facts,” said Gloom. “Any names from this gang?”

“I remember one of them. Her friend. Right snobby little bitch she was. Thought she was better than all of them. Her daddy some high up no doubt.”

“A name?”

“Let me think. Dee? Dymond, that’s it.”

“I see,” said Gloom. “Any others?”

“Some young punk. Farthing he called himself. Always put on a stupid archaic accent.”

“Any idea where they hung out?”

“I don’t know!” snapped the woman. “She barely spoke to me as it was! Ungrateful slut. Out all night god knows where, fucking around no doubt. Little whore.”

“Very well,” said Gloom. “Here’s my ID. Call me if you remember any more.” He passed his card to her.

“You’re really looking for her?” asked Mrs. Wilde, taking the card.

“The Commissioner herself was on my ass about it,” said Gloom. “Believe me, this is my priority. I’ll see myself out.” He glanced around once more and then left the same way he came in, climbing into the car and thinking things through for a moment. There was a connection here, but was it relevant?

“Give me any intel on a gang called the Gadabouts, specifically someone calling them self Farthing,” he snapped at the computer.

Whilst he waited for a response he turned the cruiser around and drove slowly back down to the road. The response took longer coming than he thought, and wasn’t very informative when it did come.

The Gadabouts appeared to be a well to do group. A typical upper level gang thought Gloom. They consisted of spoiled brats from upper level families, taking time out to play being bad before going to work in daddy’s company. Because of their connections they rarely got pulled in, and so the police records were sparse. They were known to hang around on the upper levels, was about all it said.

“Great,” snarled Gloom. “Very informative.” He tapped the control of the car and considered. His dick was saying he should go and party the night away with Melissa, maybe try out some of his new Crush. On the other hand, the Ice Bitch wanted results. Maybe he could pull in some random perp and stick the rap on him. It would save time and effort.

He made a decision and pulled out into the road. “Plot a course,” he said to the computer.

[Lilith]

Again, another well written chappy. Just a tidbit of advice though... the poll looks as if it's still running.... you might want to close it so that when it's time for the next one you can.

I say, party tonight, work tomorrow.

[Mephistopheles]

Another good chapter, Dark.

Meph says, go check out dymond, because there is a tad too much coincidence. Besides, how long can it take to talk to the woman, then go have fun?

[Mastermind]

Frame some ufortunate lower-level hobo, then party.

[Crunchyfrog]

Very good! Painted a very clear picture of the city in my mind. I F5 Meph here... Go check out Dymond before partying.

Dont know which level Madison General is, but if she's got her own private suite and daddy flew in a top surgeon to treat her, the hospital is bound to be somewhere on the upper levels. So it can't be too far out of his way. Besides, we don't know how close to death she might be. He may not have much time.

[Chinaren]

A milder but still quite good chapter Dark. I saw a couple of little things that could be tidied up, but generally well written.

I say he gets Melissa to find him a sap first, get the business out of the way, then parteeeee!

[NeverNeverGirl]

i think tat he would go get laid. party hard with Melissa and the crush... seems like his sort of thing...

he might just stumble into Gadabouts while cruising the upperlevels partying

[The Dark]

The Dark is pleased by your comments. The Dark shall commence polling soon, if it is not too early to do so.

[Head Eater]

Thisss ssstorygame iss acceptable to me.

[Chinaren]

Just noticed you had a poll up Dark. You might want to post a message when you do that, otherwise people might not notice it.

[NeverNeverGirl]

*always was a party girl*

and DAMN the consequences! lets check out the nightlife!

:-D

[DELETED]

DELETED

[The Dark]

The Dark thanks you for your votes. The voting is now at an end, and The Dark shall consider the consiquences of your choice.

[D-Lotus]

Hey, I just caught up with this story and I have to agree with Zephyr. Perhaps my only question is: How do they separate the levels? Is it just a highway with sign-posts on them, each sign post indicating a level?

[The Dark]

This tale contains extreme scenes and adult language, and will not be suitable for the square, young, squeamish or mental impaired.


Chapter 3. Deep Shit.

Fuck it. He’d done enough running around for one day, and Melissa’s tits were impinging upon his thoughts. “Level ninety one,” he told his nav system. “Block two two two.”

The display changed to show the route, and he swung out onto the road, heading for the i90. Switching the car to auto, Gloomed leaned back in his seat and thought about things. One night shouldn’t affect his investigation too much, he justified. Anyway, Melissa probably knew the local youth gangs, he’d let her take him out to a couple of bars, maybe a club. He’d say he was following up on these Gadabouts if anyone asked. He might even find them, who knew?

The car took the i90 off ramp, and began to drive downwards, follow the long spiraling road that connected the top ten residential levels. Going down two didn’t take long, and the cruiser slid out onto the streets of ninety one into rush hour traffic. It was beginning to get dark, and the street lights came on as he turned into the main strip, which was clogged with vehicles. Even the bus lane was packed, and Gloom scowled as he sat behind some stupid bitch in her new four by four. He considered taking down her number and booking her, but there were a hundred more in front, and he wasn’t really in his jurisdiction. Everyone used the bus lane at this time of day. Who cared about the bums too poor to buy a car anyway?

The evening closed in as he inched his way along to the next turnoff. The buildings on either side of the street were bustling shops and department stores, packed with people idling away their time.

Advertisements floated along the side of the road, their neon lights and holo-vids flashing promotions up at any who would watch. A new range of ice-cream flavoured condoms aimed at the under twelve’s, the latest GM fruit to come from the lunar colonies, a pol-cast for the re-introduction of slavery.

Gloom usually stayed clear of politics, but he noticed the last one because it was run by Modernist party, a group closely linked with Reginald Prime. He linked into the audio and watched as the lead presenter, a suited figure with slicked back hair who was probably an AI generated image, presented the Modernist case.

‘Everyone knows the unemployment problem is only getting worse, yet our political rivals still bleat on about ‘helping’ the poor, funding their poverty with your money! Imagine that!’ The man showed shock and outrage on his face as a graphic showing cash being siphoned away from a luxury home came up on the screen. Glooms HUD flashed up a warning, saying it had just blocked subliminal rage harmonics.

‘Intelligent people know, you know, that’s not the answer in today’s true capitalist environment. If they had worked hard, like you, they wouldn’t be poor now would they?’ Another graphic, this time showing hard working office workers passing by several poorly dressed men and women fucking in an alleyway.

Gloom smiled to himself. This ad was aimed solely at the upper levels, at people who never ventured down past Eighty.

‘The Modernist party isn’t like our rivals! We know the answer, an answer that will help them, help you, and help the economy!’ The car computer warned it was detecting and blocking ‘hope’ harmonics now. All part of the slick advertising package.

‘The answer’s slavery!’ The man waved his hands about as the cruiser crawled forward another metre. ‘Now, I know what you’re thinking - What about me? Will I have to be a slave?’ The man laughed, showing whiter than white teeth. ‘Well of course not! We are only proposing those who are simply too poor or those too lazy to find work enter the program! As an added bonus, upstanding citizens like you, who contribute to society, will be given credits towards their first slave by the next Modernist government! It’s the answer…’

Gloom hit the cutoff switch as he reached a turning, finally breaking free of the crush of traffic, he raced up a relatively quiet street and drove for another ten minutes until he reached the ‘Hollywood Gardens’ housing zone. An area of plush high rise apartments catering to the young and single professional.

Driving through the security cordon, he passed lavish gardens tended by gardening robots and pulled up beside block two. Powering down the car, he stepped out and stretched before heading towards the main entrance. Pushing two two on the door buzzer, he waited. There was no reply for a few moments, and he was about to press again when a sleepy voice answered.

“Yes?”

“Hey babe. Long time to see,” growled Gloom.

“Gavin? Is that you?”

“Who else? Your favourite cop, come to show you a good time.”

“Come in already then,” she said, and the door buzzed.

Gavin smiled to himself and went in. Taking the lift up to the thirtieth floor he stepped out into a plush corridor. Hesitating a moment to get his bearings, it had been a while since he’d been here, he turned left and located her door, which opened to let him in.

“Gavin, darling!” The delightful form of Melissa Smith, now better known as the singer/model M. Jugs leapt onto him, wrapping her slim arms and legs around his body and pushing her tits up against his chest. “Baby! Why haven’t you visited in so long?” She kissed his face. “I just woke up, see? Not wearing anything. You got any Blue?”

Gloom staggered a little under her onslaught, but recovered manfully, sliding his hands under her flimsy robe, exploring that smooth flesh, lingering over her shaved pussy. He felt himself stirring, Melissa had always been able to get him hot.

He kissed her back, a wet French one, and staggered over to the nearby couch, carrying her squirming form until he reached it and fell forward onto it and her.

Her hands roamed his body, trying to get inside his pants. “Come on baby, give me a good morning fuck,” she moaned, as Gloom bit her neck.

“It’s evening,” he panted. Then: “God you’re hot.” He struggled to undo his pants, half tangled up in his jacket, gun holster and her robe. He finally freed his cock, which was throbbing with urgency, and plunged it inside her.

“Oh yes!” she cried, “come on copper, make me sorry! Make me beg for mercy! I’ve been a bad girl!”

“Oh shit,” said Gloom, nearly coming there and then. He picked up the pace, thrusting like a deranged rabbit.

The two fell off the sofa and rolled onto the floor, grunting and gasping in animal lust until, with a low wolf cry, Gloom shot his load, his body quivering and shuddering with release.

The two lay still for a moment, panting as they recovered from the exertion. Finally Melissa smiled and stroked his hair. “Pleased to see me then?”

“You could always get me going,” said Gloom. Then he looked down. “I need a shower now.” He struggled free, standing up and discarding his trousers, which were hanging off one leg. Reaching into his pocket he drew out the packet of Crush, which had been kindly donated by mother Wilde. “Look what I got baby,” he said, waving it about. “Pure shit, fresh from the tree.”

“You always look after me Gavin,” she said, reaching for it.

Gloom jerked it away and waved a finger teasingly. “Not for now! Later! Tonight we’re going to party.”

“Oh,” she said, pouting. Then she smiled. “I guess I should have something to eat first anyway. You go and shower, I’ll fix us some food.” She stood up and, after a quick peck on his cheek, padded away toward the kitchen, still naked, white dribbling down her thigh.

Smiling with anticipation, Gloom went to get a shower.

-

“You know these Gadabouts then?” he asked as he pulled up outside the Red Club, swinging the cruiser into the first available space he found.

“Not well,” she admitted. “I’ve bought some stuff from them before.” She leaned forward and dabbed at her face, adjusting her makeup in the cars’ rear view mirror.

Gloom glanced over admiringly. She was wearing a simple red dress, cut low at the top to better display her ample charms, and riding high on the leg, enabling her to flash shapely thighs. Her face was an oval, pretty green eyes flashed out over a pert nose and ruby red lips. Her long black hair hung down unadorned, reaching halfway down her back.

“You ready?” he asked, shutting down the engine.

“Let’s party,” she answered, closing her small bag.

Gloom climbed out and ran around to open the passenger door for her. She climbed out, giving him a flash of naked flesh underneath her dress. She wasn’t wearing any knickers.

“They chaff,” she winked at him, noticing his lustful gaze.

Smiling, Gloom linked her arm, and the two sauntered up to the entrance, totally ignoring the queue. The doorway was, in time honoured tradition, guarded by several burly bouncers. One of them put a hand out as Gloom approached. He flicked his ID in response, and the man nodded and stepped back. Being a cop had so many perks.

Ignoring the complaints of those still waiting in line, the bouncer unhooked a rope barring the way, and the couple strode inside.

The Red Club was new, and he hadn’t visited it before, not that Gloom frequented many places on this level. He looked around as they entered the main dance hall, which was throbbing with bodies moving to the subsonic music that was currently all the rage.

Spotting a comfortable chair in a corner, he guided Melissa over, and settled back into it, waving his hand for service from the human waitress. He ordered a couple of shots and a couple of cocktails for good measure, and then examined the place as they waited for the beverages to arrive.

The place was dark, as usual for discos. The walls were decorated in some kind of synthetic dark red fur, and various comfortable chairs in a variety of different pastel colours were scattered around in strategic spots, accompanied by low glass tables. Nooks and crannies provided more private places for people to relax, in whatever manner suited them. Gloom saw one lad bent over a chair being fucked up the backside, careless of who was watching. Two teenage girls were busy snorting something off one of the tables in another. He smiled. Ah, the joys of youth!

Most of the other patrons not on the dance floor were standing around, chatting and sipping drinks.

Their own drinks arrived, and the next few hours passed pleasantly. Drinking, snogging and dancing with Melissa. They took a small snort of Crush, but Gloom wanted to save the blue powder for later, when he was in private with her. The Blue, as Crush was also known, was a powerful aphrodisiac, and he wasn’t really into sex in public places.

They were walking back to their seats after a session dancing when Melissa nudged him. “There,” she said pointing. “That guy over there, in the hat. He’s a Gadabout. Calls himself Farthing or something stupid. Bit of a prick actually.”

Gloom followed her finger, towards a tall thin figure dressed in an outlandish suit, which was black down one side, white down the other. He was sporting an old style top hat, tilted at a jaunty angle. Currently he was sitting by himself on a blue sofa, drinking from a bottle of something, relaxing in a pose that was just a bit too casual to be natural.

“May as well kill two birds with one stone,” Gloom said to himself. He patted Melissa on the rump. “Go wait for me,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.”

She nodded, sensible enough to know when he was working, and trotted off back to their seats as Gloom strode over to the man.

“Yer, alright? What you want then?” asked the suited figure in a strange accent as the cop loomed over him.

“You Farthing?” Gloom asked.

“What’s it to yer?”

The police officer sat down heavily next to the youth, who is reckoned couldn’t be more than twenty. He moved close to him, invading his personal space. Putting a hand on the boys’ leg and ignoring the protests, he leaned over and spoke in a low voice.

“I understand you know someone called Wilde? Mary Wilde?”

“Who’s asking? Are you a rozzer? I ‘aint no narc!” Farthing tried to edge away, unsuccessfully.

“I’m a friend of hers, a friend you really don’t want to piss off,” Gloom replied, squeezing the leg hard.

“You’re a faggot! I’m not talkin’ to yer!” The youth tried to stand, but Gloom pushed him back down roughly.

“Listen here you shit. I’ve got some heavy pressure on me, and a little fuck like you isn’t going to stop me.” He held a hand up, forestalling the response that was about to come out of the lads’ mouth. “Yes, I know who your daddy is, and I don’t care. The people I work for are very insistent. So, tell me. Where did you see her last? The truth now, if you don’t want to be getting some new teeth.”

Farthing eyed the large man warily. Gloom could see the calculation going on inside his head. Was it worth bluffing?

“Ah fuck it. Why should I care about that two timing bitch? I ain’t seen her in a week. Went off with some fucker in a dark suit. Thin bloke with a face painted white. Over by the Safe mall, down on seventy three.”

“What were you doing down there? Slumming it?”

“Fuck! What’s it to yer? We do business down there okay?”

Gloom examined the lad, but he seemed to be telling the truth. “What about Dymond, when did you see her last?”

“I ain’t seen her in a couple of days. What’s this about?”

“You having problems Farthing?” A new voice entered the equation. Gloom turned around to see four more youths, all dressed in the same stupid outfit, minus the toppers, standing around. One of them pulled his jacked back to show the butt of a pistol.

The policeman let Farthing go and stood up. “Just some private business lads. No need to cause yourselves trouble. Understand?” He pulled his own jacket back, revealing his totally non-regulation, upgraded Magus pistol.

The youths drew back a step, and Gloom took the opportunity to step away. “Have a nice night,” he said. They let him pass, and he walked back to Melissa, who was fending off the advances of a drunken man in a green top.

“Get lost,” said Gloom, and the man retreated quickly as the cop held out a hand to the girl. “Hey baby, what say we go back to your place and score some Blue?”

Melissa smiled.

-

The Dark looked about. He was in a kitchen. He smiled a black smile. Always a fun place, kitchens, lots of sharp things. He pulled a long carving knife off the table and tested the edge. That would do nicely. Now, where… Oh yes. The bedroom. How nice.

He stalked through the dark, the blade glinting off the low light filtering in through the windows. A bed. A young woman sprawled out on it, naked. Her voluptuous figure obvious even in the gloom of night.

Oh, this was going to be so much fun. He breathed hard, the excitement rising. The Dark grinned widely and crept forward. Carefully straddling the sleeping shape, he turned her on her back, panting with the desire.

Putting a hand over her mouth he waited, black eyes watching as she twitched and then woke up, slowly at first, and then suddenly wide awake as she realised what her position was. She tried to scream and escape, but The Dark pinned her down efficiently and brought the knife up to her cheek.

“So beautiful. Look at those eyes. So wide and clear. The Dark likes. He made a quick cut, and the girls’ muffled screams redoubled as he picked off her eyelid, examining the bloody piece of skin before tasting it.

“Delicious. Now, how about the eye?” He held the head still, gouging the eye with the knife as one would core an apple, pulling the orb loose with a dull sucking pop. Cutting it free he held it in his hand, examining it as one would a marble.

Underneath him, the girl passed out. Ah well, conscious or not, he could still perform his task.

The knife went to work again…

-

“Detective Inspector Gloom! Where are you? Answer me or you’re going to be sweeping the toilets on level one I swear!!”

Gloom awoke to the squalling from his radio. His head was throbbing hard enough to fall off. He clutched it in both hands and tried to sit up on the bed.

“Jesus fucking H Christ!” he muttered. “What the fuck was in that Crush?”

“Gloom! Are you there? You better fucking answer me! Where’s my suspect? Where are you? What the fuck are you playing at?” Commissioner Ice’s voice tore through the radio again, shocking him out of his hangover.

He reached for the radio and spoke into it, his voice coming out a frog-like croak. “Gloom here,” he said.

“Finally! Where have you been? Have you got a suspect for me yet? Prime’s breathing down my neck, and if I fall, you’re going to fall twice as hard.”

Gloom groaned. “I’ve got some leads, it’s only been one night,” he said.

“One night? What the fuck are you on? I gave you an order two days ago! You better have someone for me or your head is going to fucking roll I swear!!”

Wincing, Gloom looked around blearily. What was the bitch on about? He looked at the display on the wall and his mouth dropped open. It was Wednesday morning! What the fuck had happened to Tuesday?

He looked around, at the bed behind him and threw up.

Lying on covers stained red, butchered nearly beyond all recognition, was Melissa.

“Gloom? Speak to me! Tell me something good now, or you’re done!”

The commissioner’s voice rose to ballistic proportions.

“Oh god,” said Gloom. “Oh fucking shit.”

[LordoftheNight]

Hmm - interesting. I don't think he's The Dark though, purely because it seems so obvious that he is.

[Cyberworm]

Well, I finally catched up properly. This is a really good piece of writing Dark. Keep up the good work.

Don't know about the DP, I don't have any clever ideas.

[Crunchyfrog]

Very well written. A nice sequence listening to the advertising in the car. I'm afraid some of this is just beyond the limits of what I will read, but onto the DP anyway...

Obviously something to do with the Crush that Mother Wilde gave him?

Ah well, since The Dark has already claimed his second victim, the police will know about it soon enough, if they haven't already. The thing with the eyelid, didn't he do that with the first victim also?

Trouble is we don't know which evening that was done on, since Gloom seems to have been out for 24 hours...

Er, I dunno. Say he's found another victim... Melissa... and have the Crush analysed?

[Rune]

Despite the issue over ratings and appropriateness that has recently graced the council chambers, I believe that the title of this chapter undermines the purpose of a warning label as there is profanity used in a title that everyone can see. There is no warning and so our more sensitive visitors to the site cannot avoid but seeing the word(s).

Perhaps retitling the thread but in the actual post keeping the name under it's current title. This way it doesn't violate our standing rules (because I'm pretty certain it is) and we don't risk offending anyone who does not wish to engage in the content of the story involuntarily.

This post is purely a moding request. I'm not the mod here and ceased reading a bit ago (it was a decent story though from what I did read). However, I could not, in good conscience, say nothing as this storygame of all 62 new posts immediately caught my attention and in a rather unpleasant way. Simply adjusting the last word in the title to $#!7 would be appropriate I think.

This forums mod has the final say, of course and I don't mean to step on toes. But I'd sooner break toes than keep seeing that in my new storygames listing.

Happy writing though.

[LordoftheNight]

Actually, I don't think there are any 'rules' at the moment as such.

If nothing else, the title made you take a look at the topic, so in that sense it worked.

[The Dark]

The Dark cares nothing for your weak and feeble bleatings.

[D-Lotus]

Hmm, well, the quality of writing is keeping up. Interesting cliffhanger. Obviously he has to investigate all of the events he missed while he was asleep. Find out who entered the house; surely there's some house security in this futuristic world and therefore a record on camera?