Let Slip the Dogs of War
Chapter 3: Awakening
By Chris Ward
February 27, 2003; Los Angeles, California
Reaching Bob’s office about 15 minutes early, I decided to wait for Elle in the hall.
Suddenly, I heard him swearing. After another couple seconds, I realized he was in the
middle of a phone conversation.
“Jesus, Daniel. It wasn’t supposed to go this fucking far!... Yes, I know it was a test… Yes, I
remember agreeing to it… Fuck it all, Daniel! You were supposed to have someone nearby
to stop that asshole from killing one of our best agents… Don’t give me that shit! I had an
agent working in that hospital, Linderman. I know exactly what that animal did to her… Why?
Do you have any idea how much money and time went into raising her to be the agent she
is?... Christ, Daniel, are your brains turned fucking off?... Do we at least have her?... Why
the fuck not?... As soon as possible, get her the fuck out of there!... You have a plan in
place to extract her, then?... This better work, Daniel… You know what’ll happen, don’t you,
if she wakes up?... That’s right; she’ll freak out and end up killing everyone in a fucking ten
mile radius! That’d throw the whole secret right out in the open… Just get her… I don’t care
how many have to die, or how many brains you have to turn into Swiss-fucking-cheese…
Your damned game almost cost us Noonan… If she dies, I’ll turn you into gold starting with
your goddamned balls!... Fine. Keep me in the loop on this, Daniel.”
As he hung up the phone, Elle came barreling down the hall, tucking in her blouse. “Am I
late?”
Glancing at my watch, I shook my head. “About 5 minutes early, actually.” Catching her
scent, I laughed. “Company last night?”
With a wicked grin, she said, “And this morning.” Grabbing the door handle, she looked at
me over her shoulder. “Elle went on a water ride, all fucking night baby.” With a short
laugh, she opened the door.
Glancing at Bob as I followed her to our seats, I realized he looked extremely preoccupied
and a little worried. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat and looked up. Tossing a pair
of manila envelopes to me, he rubbed his forehead. “Those are all your cover documents.
As you were told last night, you’re both covered as Debt Recovery from the corporate
offices.
“Find Bernhelm. Try to bring him back alive. If that’s not possible, he is not allowed to run
free. Am I understood?”
Shrugging, I handed Elle her envelope. “In other words, he comes back either asleep or in
a bag.” Grunting out a laugh, I thumbed through the identity I had just been given; Michael
Bell. “Next time, just say it. This pussy footing around always pisses me off.”
Glancing at his watch, he stood up. “Do the job and get back here. I don’t know all of what
Daniel’s up to down there, but don’t get involved, understood?”
When we nodded, he continued, “Your primary contacts will be Bennet and the Haitian.
You may also have to work with Thompson. Be a little careful of him. Bennet and the Haitian
are Company men; they follow orders and do whatever’s in the best interest of the
Organization. Thompson is playing game of his own, and I haven’t quite figured it out yet.
He’s willing to follow orders, but he’s definitely working a scheme of some sort.”
Buttoning his jacket, he shrugged. “You’re lead on this, Havoc. Your plane leaves in thirty,
so get your stuff together.”
***********
Unknown Date, Unknown Location
How long has he lived in this cage? The darkness has become a close companion, even a
friend.
He remembers a time when he could lay stretched out in the cage, barely touching either
end. How long ago was that? Now he has to curl up to fit. The steel cuffs on his wrists and
ankles, and the leather collar around his neck, are growing tight again. Is this the third set?
Or is it the forth?
He’s stronger now, too. He remembers when his work nearly killed him. Now, even half
starved, the loads seem lighter, the work easier.
He remembers a time when sight, sound and scent were limited. Now he can smell the rats
that have learned to avoid him. When he is where sight is an option, he can see the
individual leaves in the distance. Most disturbingly, he can hear the screams emanating
from the hidden chambers where the girls and young women the Master purchased and
captured for pleasure slaves are kept; and where the Master’s pleasure frequently results
in the death of the more stubborn playthings.
Carefully touching his back, running his fingers along wounds left by Master’s whips and
blades, he realizes that one other thing has changed. Old scars have vanished, and new
wounds heal much faster than ever before.
Despite those changes, one thing has remained the same; he still has no knowledge of
who he is. He vaguely remembers, as if from a half-forgotten dream, that he once had a
name. The time of his enslavement, however, has eradicated all memory of what it might
have been.
Now he is one of Master’s Dogs. Though the only one kept here, he knows that at least
three more are kept on the grounds. The life of a Dog isn’t pleasant, but better to be a Dog
than a Bitch.
He’s seen what the Master does to the Bitches. He and the other Dogs have been forced
to bind and chain them, and have occasionally been forced into participating. The Master
derives almost as much pleasure from watching the Dogs rape and torture the Bitches as
when he does it himself.
As in all things, failure to comply with the Master’s demands in his Pleasure Chamber
brings beatings. He has watched, along with the other Dogs and Bitches, as the Master
beat one Dog to death. As intended, it left an impression.
The others took the lesson to heart. Their beatings became rarer as their will was crushed.
His will was not crushed. His obedience is born not of fear, but of patient resolve. Always
on his mind is the thought of escape.
***********
February 27, 2003; Odessa, Texas
Noah Bennet and the Haitian were waiting when Elle and I arrived at the small airport. After
our bags were transferred, we got into the back of the Company limo.
Noah handed us each a slim folder. “This is everything I was able to get together on
Bernhelm. How much were you told?”
Thumbing through the folder, I made a mental note that there was a lot that had not been
included. Shrugging, I said, “Looks like the briefing we were given covered pretty much
the same bases; name, height, weight, the nature of his ability and why they were sending
us after him.” Reading the file a little closer, I noticed a glaring omission. “Not a single
disciplinary note? Weren’t there any indications that he was becoming unmanageable?”
Noah shook his head. “Nothing I’ve been able to find anyway. There’s nothing in his file, or
in his partner’s, that indicates anything like that.”
Closing the folder, I looked directly at Noah. He’d aged a bit from when he’d helped train
me, but it had primarily served to make him more competent and dangerous. “You’re
looking good, Noah. How’s the family?”
He laughed. “Not bad. Lyle’s pretty much the same as always, quiet and a bit shy. Claire’s
about to start High School, which is causing some problems for Sandra.”
“Oh?”
“She wanted so desperately to get pregnant, and the doctor’s kept saying it wasn’t going
to happen. When I brought Claire home, it was like Sandra’d been given a new lease on life.
The fact that we ultimately had Lyle naturally, which confused the doctors, didn’t diminish in
any way her love of Claire. She’s not ready to let her grow up. Sometimes I think that’s why
she spoils Mr. Muggles the way she does.”
After a couple minutes, Elle glanced out the window. “Where’d they put us?”
I knew Noah he had never cared for her, even though he pitied her for reasons I never
fully understood. It surprised me a little, although I guess it shouldn’t have, that he was
able to that from his face and voice. “The Company owns the penthouse in a local condo.
On paper, it’s for Primatech executives when they’re in town. You two will be staying there
while you’re here.”
Slipping the folder into the briefcase I had brought with me, I leaned my head against the
back of my seat. “Good. Do we have a car?”
Tossing over a set of keys, he grinned. “Black Cadillac; space three-sixteen in the garage.”
Looking through the keys on the ring, I raised an eyebrow at him. “No key to the condo?”
The Haitian handed keycard to both of us. Noah glanced at him curiously for a second, and
then shifted in his seat. “The code you’ll need is pound-three-one-six. The same cards will
get you into the sub-basement at the Primatech facility. Any extra codes you may need will
be provided there.”
“Good. We’ll get settled in and meet you there in a couple hours.”
After we parked, Noah and the Haitian helped me carry in the bags while Elle went in ahead
to check out the penthouse. After she had disappeared from sight, I looked at the Haitian.
“She doesn’t know you can talk?”
His face remained impassive as he looked at me. “No. There has been no need.”
“Why’d you let me know, then? It’s obvious you don’t want it commonly known.”
“Because you had need of help in leaving the darkness and God placed me in your path.”
***********
Unknown Date; Unknown Location
His thoughts are interrupted by the single light bulb being turned on as Master enters the
kennel area. Since Dog was left unchained, Master opens the door and orders him out. He
stands still as Master affixes the shackles to his ankles and his wrists, with the connecting
chain attaching the shackles to each other and his collar.
They walk up the stairs, Master following Dog. Inside the house, Master leads him to the
Pleasure Chamber.
In that room, the two newest in his stable of Bitches lay dead. The gashes, cuts and
bruises covering their ravaged forms give mute testimony to the agonies and humiliations
they suffered before their cruel deaths.
Master orders him to clean the mess, and to dispose of the Bitches in the special
incinerator. It is not the first time he has cleaned this room for Master, but something
inside snaps. Instead of hastening to follow Master’s orders, he stands and stares at the
bodies.
Master begins cursing, and yanks down a heavy, barbed whip from the wall. He begins to
beat Dog repeatedly, growing angrier with each stroke. Dog stands, seemingly impassive,
beneath the onslaught, refusing to move, or even blink. He welcomes the pain from Master’
s whip. Each lash serves only to stoke the flames of rage.
After several minutes, Dog completely snaps. All thought vanishes. With a roar of complete
and absolute fury, he breaks the chains and whirls on his former Master, attacking with an
unexpected brutality.
After half an hour of mindless carnage, the unthinking fury dissipates. He looks around the
blood spattered room with something akin to pleasure. His former master’s lifeless corpse,
beaten, broken and shredded, lay mostly at his feet, barely recognizable as having once
been human; rendered down to so much meat. The blood splashed across the equipment,
and smeared along the walls, gives ample evidence of the violence with which he had
been slaughtered.
The boy once known as Dog takes a long look at his blood-coated, unclothed body. With a
feral smile, he pushes his hair out of his face, as he remembers one of Meat’s favorite
comments; a quote it shouted at the beginning of the Dog fights it and others like it held.
It would sit, accompanied by two or three of the most obedient and presentable of its
Bitches, on the sidelines of an enclosed arena. Wooden Dog cages would be wheeled in
from opposite sides. Before the cage doors were opened, Meat would stand, raise the
glass handed to it from one of the nude Bitches, and toast the games with the quote, “Cry
havoc, and let slip the Dogs of war!”
It fit so perfectly, and the boy laughed in vicious glee. Looking down at Meat, he growled
out, “Dog is dead. I am Havoc.”
***********
February 27, 2003; Odessa, Texas
“Fuck! One guy did this?” Elle’s exclamation mirrored my own sentiment. The room had
been virtually destroyed, almost as if a small bomb had gone off.
It had been a standard debriefing room; four walls, a ceiling and floor, a single long table
with several chairs. The table had been, at one point, bolted to the floor. Now it was
scattered around the room in several pieces after apparently being used to batter down
one of the walls. Another wall had been destroyed by some sort of energy discharge;
scorch marks from similar discharges could be clearly seen around the room.
The remaining area had been severely damaged not only by the energy discharges, but
also by what seemed to have been something large and heavy, or at least thrown with
extreme force, crashing into it. There were cracks from floor to ceiling, along with larger
burn holes scattered along the walls. There were also large chunks from the walls and
ceiling strewn around the floor.
The whole area actually looked about like what I’d expect to see if Elle and I ever had a real
fight.
Closing my eyes, I let my nose explore the area. Setting aside the scents belonging to the
four of us, I attempted to read deeper. The problem was that the scents in the room were
all several days old, and there had been several people combing through this area since. I
could smell fear, betrayal, rage, murder, hatred, blood-lust and death quite clearly, but was
unable to place them in any sort of coherent order. After several minutes I gave up and
looked over at Noah. “I need a couple things, Bennet.”
“What?”
“Anything you have that belonged to Bernhelm. Preferably clothing, but at least something
no one else would have touched.” At his questioning look, I shrugged. “I need something
to separate his scent from everyone else’s. At the moment, I’ve just got a confused mess in
here.”
“All right. What else?”
A thought hit me as some of the scents started to sort themselves out, and I had to quickly
amend my statement. “Actually, I think I need two more things. I need completely
unrestricted access to his file. Nothing redacted, nothing deleted and absolutely nothing
missing. Elle and I need to know everything about the guy, down to the names of the girls
from his wet dreams if you’ve got them.
“We’ll also need to interview every agent he’s had contact with over the past two or three
years if they’re available.”
Noah frowned in thought for a minute. “I can probably get the file for you, but not today.
That’ll have to go through Thompson, so it probably won’t get here until sometime
tomorrow. Why do you need the interviews?”
“Because someone knows something. Someone always knows something. It’s probable
that he has someone working for him.”
“They won’t tell you, Havoc. If they’re actually working for him, they’ll never tell you the
truth.”
With a feral grin, I laughed. “You know me, Noah. I know when someone’s lying to me. If
they do, we’ll persuade them to be honest.” Letting the laugh die, I fixed him with my
coldest stare. “You may want to warn your people that lying to me is a very bad career
move.”
***********
Unknown Date; Unknown Location
It’s been some time since Havoc killed Meat and burned the carcass, along with the bodies
of its final victims. After gleefully watching Meat’s body turn to ash, he went hunting.
One at a time, he found the other three Dogs and freed them. They had been broken, and
cowered away from Havoc. Each one took hours to convince that Meat was truly dead.
The next step was to free the Bitches. Havoc knew that there were several, but neither he
nor the other boys knew where they had been kept. After several more hours they
stumbled across a hidden room in the Meat’s bedroom. Not only were there a dozen
different keys, but video of the abuses each Bitch had undergone, as well as a tally book
Meat kept to track how many lived, and how they died.
Over the next several hours, and encountering the same problems as when he liberated
the boys, he found and freed each of the surviving girls. When he was finished, he found
that six of the twelve had survived, and four had been found dead in their kennels. That
left two unaccounted for, until he remembered the two he had burned with Meat. They took
the four dead girls and placed them in the incinerator.
He wasn’t certain just how long ago that had happened. They had all been captured or
purchased long before they had any notion of time, and Meat had never bothered to teach
them. He did know that all of the boys, himself first of all, as well as the three youngest of
the girls, had undergone a series of physical changes. They had all begun to grow hair
where it had never been before. The boy’s voices, including Havoc’s, had grown deeper.
The girls had all begun to bleed for several days every thirty days or so.
One girl was the most predictable bleeder, and had become the unofficial time keeper for
the group as a result. She had begun to cycle roughly one hundred and twenty days after
what they all called the Freeing, and had cycled roughly ninety times or so to this point.
Over that time, they had become a completely self-reliant, closed community. Havoc, due
to his strength of will as well as his physical strength, became the leader of the group. The
boys still did the work they had always done, which included growing and harvesting food,
and keeping the area cleaned and in repair. The girls were also trained in those duties, but
taught the boys how to cook the food and clean the house as well.
As the good food and healthy work too effect, everyone grew healthier and stronger.
Protruding bones were covered as flesh filled out and muscle developed. Lifeless eyes
changed as they discovered hope and learned to enjoy life. The open wounds healed, and
the scars faded as their bodies healed.
Meat had not bothered with keeping clothing for his slaves, so they remained nude even
after the Freeing. When it became too cold for them to work outside, they quickly found
that there was plenty of work to be done inside. Among other jobs, they completely
stripped and cleaned Meat’s Pleasure Chamber, turning it into sleeping quarters for the
entire group.
The only real problem they had encountered was the sexual urges that both the boys and
the girls began to have. In order to prevent jealousy and fighting, Havoc created a
schedule of sorts. With the exception of the week or so she was on her cycle, each girl had
sex once or twice a week, as they desired, with the boy of their choice; provided each boy
also had sex at least once a week. Thus far, it seemed to be working.
Discipline was swift but rare. Depending on the nature and degree of the violation of the
agreed-upon rules, the punishments ranged anywhere from extra work to twenty lashes.
The judgments were always rendered, and the more severe punishments carried out, by
Havoc.
He had learned early that he was the strongest as well as the most agile of the ten
members of the small community. He had also learned that his senses of smell, sight and
hearing were far stronger than those of the other Freed. Since their lives had not taught
them trust, they lived in paranoia that strangers may come in and enslave them yet again.
For these reasons, Havoc performed regular security sweeps of the entire area. He also
took on the duty of hunting, and fashioned a hunting spear, bow, and arrows to aid him.
He is out hunting when the scent of strangers first reaches him. Immediately abandoning
the hunt, he disappears into the trees and begins tracking the intruders.
After following their scent for a short time, he hears them as they make their way through
the heavily wooded area. Slowing down, he begins to crawl through the branches until he
comes within sight of the strangers.
The first stranger is shorter, pale skinned and balding. In some indefinable way, he
appears much weaker than his companion. “Are you sure about this, Charles? There isn’t a
damned thing here.”
The one he called Charles is a large black man, slightly overweight but with an indefinable
aura of authority. “This is the area, Maury. My sources in the Trade told me that the guy who
lives somewhere in this area bought a boy matching our description maybe sixteen years
ago.”
***********
February 27, 2003; Odessa, Texas
The rest of the day was uneventful. Elle and I scheduled a series of interviews for
tomorrow to locate the agent, or agents, I was certain Bernhelm had working for him. Noah
had called in my request to see the entire, unedited, file, and had been told it would be
hand delivered tomorrow as well.
For appearances, we spent several hours, including a working lunch, with the Primatech
accountants. Later, we met with the book keepers for the clients who were furthest behind
in their payments. By the time we ate dinner and made it back to the penthouse, it was past
11.
Elle went into the bedroom to change into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt for bed. I followed
her with other plans. When she had stripped off the pantsuit, I came up behind her and
carefully restrained her.
Pressing my lips against the side of her neck, in a spot I knew to cause interesting
reactions, I ran my hand lightly across her bare stomach and nipped at her ear. The sudden
intake of breath and the almost violent shudder, combined with the unmistakable alteration
in her scent, told me all I needed to know.
She started to turn into me, but I held her in place. The hand I had been running along her
stomach slid in under her bra, massaging her breasts. The other hand, which had been
resting on her hip, slipped into her panties, where it began its own explorations before I
allowed my finger to slide into place, eliciting a moan of pleasure.
After quite a while of this, taking her to the brink without letting her past it, I released her
and let her turn into me, drawing me into a deep, hard kiss before she nearly ripped off my
suit and led me to the bed. Once there, we finished undressing each other, and I grinned
before pushing her into bed and joining her, where she happily returned the earlier favor
before our bodies joined.
Chapter 3: Awakening
By Chris Ward
February 27, 2003; Los Angeles, California
Reaching Bob’s office about 15 minutes early, I decided to wait for Elle in the hall.
Suddenly, I heard him swearing. After another couple seconds, I realized he was in the
middle of a phone conversation.
“Jesus, Daniel. It wasn’t supposed to go this fucking far!... Yes, I know it was a test… Yes, I
remember agreeing to it… Fuck it all, Daniel! You were supposed to have someone nearby
to stop that asshole from killing one of our best agents… Don’t give me that shit! I had an
agent working in that hospital, Linderman. I know exactly what that animal did to her… Why?
Do you have any idea how much money and time went into raising her to be the agent she
is?... Christ, Daniel, are your brains turned fucking off?... Do we at least have her?... Why
the fuck not?... As soon as possible, get her the fuck out of there!... You have a plan in
place to extract her, then?... This better work, Daniel… You know what’ll happen, don’t you,
if she wakes up?... That’s right; she’ll freak out and end up killing everyone in a fucking ten
mile radius! That’d throw the whole secret right out in the open… Just get her… I don’t care
how many have to die, or how many brains you have to turn into Swiss-fucking-cheese…
Your damned game almost cost us Noonan… If she dies, I’ll turn you into gold starting with
your goddamned balls!... Fine. Keep me in the loop on this, Daniel.”
As he hung up the phone, Elle came barreling down the hall, tucking in her blouse. “Am I
late?”
Glancing at my watch, I shook my head. “About 5 minutes early, actually.” Catching her
scent, I laughed. “Company last night?”
With a wicked grin, she said, “And this morning.” Grabbing the door handle, she looked at
me over her shoulder. “Elle went on a water ride, all fucking night baby.” With a short
laugh, she opened the door.
Glancing at Bob as I followed her to our seats, I realized he looked extremely preoccupied
and a little worried. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat and looked up. Tossing a pair
of manila envelopes to me, he rubbed his forehead. “Those are all your cover documents.
As you were told last night, you’re both covered as Debt Recovery from the corporate
offices.
“Find Bernhelm. Try to bring him back alive. If that’s not possible, he is not allowed to run
free. Am I understood?”
Shrugging, I handed Elle her envelope. “In other words, he comes back either asleep or in
a bag.” Grunting out a laugh, I thumbed through the identity I had just been given; Michael
Bell. “Next time, just say it. This pussy footing around always pisses me off.”
Glancing at his watch, he stood up. “Do the job and get back here. I don’t know all of what
Daniel’s up to down there, but don’t get involved, understood?”
When we nodded, he continued, “Your primary contacts will be Bennet and the Haitian.
You may also have to work with Thompson. Be a little careful of him. Bennet and the Haitian
are Company men; they follow orders and do whatever’s in the best interest of the
Organization. Thompson is playing game of his own, and I haven’t quite figured it out yet.
He’s willing to follow orders, but he’s definitely working a scheme of some sort.”
Buttoning his jacket, he shrugged. “You’re lead on this, Havoc. Your plane leaves in thirty,
so get your stuff together.”
***********
Unknown Date, Unknown Location
How long has he lived in this cage? The darkness has become a close companion, even a
friend.
He remembers a time when he could lay stretched out in the cage, barely touching either
end. How long ago was that? Now he has to curl up to fit. The steel cuffs on his wrists and
ankles, and the leather collar around his neck, are growing tight again. Is this the third set?
Or is it the forth?
He’s stronger now, too. He remembers when his work nearly killed him. Now, even half
starved, the loads seem lighter, the work easier.
He remembers a time when sight, sound and scent were limited. Now he can smell the rats
that have learned to avoid him. When he is where sight is an option, he can see the
individual leaves in the distance. Most disturbingly, he can hear the screams emanating
from the hidden chambers where the girls and young women the Master purchased and
captured for pleasure slaves are kept; and where the Master’s pleasure frequently results
in the death of the more stubborn playthings.
Carefully touching his back, running his fingers along wounds left by Master’s whips and
blades, he realizes that one other thing has changed. Old scars have vanished, and new
wounds heal much faster than ever before.
Despite those changes, one thing has remained the same; he still has no knowledge of
who he is. He vaguely remembers, as if from a half-forgotten dream, that he once had a
name. The time of his enslavement, however, has eradicated all memory of what it might
have been.
Now he is one of Master’s Dogs. Though the only one kept here, he knows that at least
three more are kept on the grounds. The life of a Dog isn’t pleasant, but better to be a Dog
than a Bitch.
He’s seen what the Master does to the Bitches. He and the other Dogs have been forced
to bind and chain them, and have occasionally been forced into participating. The Master
derives almost as much pleasure from watching the Dogs rape and torture the Bitches as
when he does it himself.
As in all things, failure to comply with the Master’s demands in his Pleasure Chamber
brings beatings. He has watched, along with the other Dogs and Bitches, as the Master
beat one Dog to death. As intended, it left an impression.
The others took the lesson to heart. Their beatings became rarer as their will was crushed.
His will was not crushed. His obedience is born not of fear, but of patient resolve. Always
on his mind is the thought of escape.
***********
February 27, 2003; Odessa, Texas
Noah Bennet and the Haitian were waiting when Elle and I arrived at the small airport. After
our bags were transferred, we got into the back of the Company limo.
Noah handed us each a slim folder. “This is everything I was able to get together on
Bernhelm. How much were you told?”
Thumbing through the folder, I made a mental note that there was a lot that had not been
included. Shrugging, I said, “Looks like the briefing we were given covered pretty much
the same bases; name, height, weight, the nature of his ability and why they were sending
us after him.” Reading the file a little closer, I noticed a glaring omission. “Not a single
disciplinary note? Weren’t there any indications that he was becoming unmanageable?”
Noah shook his head. “Nothing I’ve been able to find anyway. There’s nothing in his file, or
in his partner’s, that indicates anything like that.”
Closing the folder, I looked directly at Noah. He’d aged a bit from when he’d helped train
me, but it had primarily served to make him more competent and dangerous. “You’re
looking good, Noah. How’s the family?”
He laughed. “Not bad. Lyle’s pretty much the same as always, quiet and a bit shy. Claire’s
about to start High School, which is causing some problems for Sandra.”
“Oh?”
“She wanted so desperately to get pregnant, and the doctor’s kept saying it wasn’t going
to happen. When I brought Claire home, it was like Sandra’d been given a new lease on life.
The fact that we ultimately had Lyle naturally, which confused the doctors, didn’t diminish in
any way her love of Claire. She’s not ready to let her grow up. Sometimes I think that’s why
she spoils Mr. Muggles the way she does.”
After a couple minutes, Elle glanced out the window. “Where’d they put us?”
I knew Noah he had never cared for her, even though he pitied her for reasons I never
fully understood. It surprised me a little, although I guess it shouldn’t have, that he was
able to that from his face and voice. “The Company owns the penthouse in a local condo.
On paper, it’s for Primatech executives when they’re in town. You two will be staying there
while you’re here.”
Slipping the folder into the briefcase I had brought with me, I leaned my head against the
back of my seat. “Good. Do we have a car?”
Tossing over a set of keys, he grinned. “Black Cadillac; space three-sixteen in the garage.”
Looking through the keys on the ring, I raised an eyebrow at him. “No key to the condo?”
The Haitian handed keycard to both of us. Noah glanced at him curiously for a second, and
then shifted in his seat. “The code you’ll need is pound-three-one-six. The same cards will
get you into the sub-basement at the Primatech facility. Any extra codes you may need will
be provided there.”
“Good. We’ll get settled in and meet you there in a couple hours.”
After we parked, Noah and the Haitian helped me carry in the bags while Elle went in ahead
to check out the penthouse. After she had disappeared from sight, I looked at the Haitian.
“She doesn’t know you can talk?”
His face remained impassive as he looked at me. “No. There has been no need.”
“Why’d you let me know, then? It’s obvious you don’t want it commonly known.”
“Because you had need of help in leaving the darkness and God placed me in your path.”
***********
Unknown Date; Unknown Location
His thoughts are interrupted by the single light bulb being turned on as Master enters the
kennel area. Since Dog was left unchained, Master opens the door and orders him out. He
stands still as Master affixes the shackles to his ankles and his wrists, with the connecting
chain attaching the shackles to each other and his collar.
They walk up the stairs, Master following Dog. Inside the house, Master leads him to the
Pleasure Chamber.
In that room, the two newest in his stable of Bitches lay dead. The gashes, cuts and
bruises covering their ravaged forms give mute testimony to the agonies and humiliations
they suffered before their cruel deaths.
Master orders him to clean the mess, and to dispose of the Bitches in the special
incinerator. It is not the first time he has cleaned this room for Master, but something
inside snaps. Instead of hastening to follow Master’s orders, he stands and stares at the
bodies.
Master begins cursing, and yanks down a heavy, barbed whip from the wall. He begins to
beat Dog repeatedly, growing angrier with each stroke. Dog stands, seemingly impassive,
beneath the onslaught, refusing to move, or even blink. He welcomes the pain from Master’
s whip. Each lash serves only to stoke the flames of rage.
After several minutes, Dog completely snaps. All thought vanishes. With a roar of complete
and absolute fury, he breaks the chains and whirls on his former Master, attacking with an
unexpected brutality.
After half an hour of mindless carnage, the unthinking fury dissipates. He looks around the
blood spattered room with something akin to pleasure. His former master’s lifeless corpse,
beaten, broken and shredded, lay mostly at his feet, barely recognizable as having once
been human; rendered down to so much meat. The blood splashed across the equipment,
and smeared along the walls, gives ample evidence of the violence with which he had
been slaughtered.
The boy once known as Dog takes a long look at his blood-coated, unclothed body. With a
feral smile, he pushes his hair out of his face, as he remembers one of Meat’s favorite
comments; a quote it shouted at the beginning of the Dog fights it and others like it held.
It would sit, accompanied by two or three of the most obedient and presentable of its
Bitches, on the sidelines of an enclosed arena. Wooden Dog cages would be wheeled in
from opposite sides. Before the cage doors were opened, Meat would stand, raise the
glass handed to it from one of the nude Bitches, and toast the games with the quote, “Cry
havoc, and let slip the Dogs of war!”
It fit so perfectly, and the boy laughed in vicious glee. Looking down at Meat, he growled
out, “Dog is dead. I am Havoc.”
***********
February 27, 2003; Odessa, Texas
“Fuck! One guy did this?” Elle’s exclamation mirrored my own sentiment. The room had
been virtually destroyed, almost as if a small bomb had gone off.
It had been a standard debriefing room; four walls, a ceiling and floor, a single long table
with several chairs. The table had been, at one point, bolted to the floor. Now it was
scattered around the room in several pieces after apparently being used to batter down
one of the walls. Another wall had been destroyed by some sort of energy discharge;
scorch marks from similar discharges could be clearly seen around the room.
The remaining area had been severely damaged not only by the energy discharges, but
also by what seemed to have been something large and heavy, or at least thrown with
extreme force, crashing into it. There were cracks from floor to ceiling, along with larger
burn holes scattered along the walls. There were also large chunks from the walls and
ceiling strewn around the floor.
The whole area actually looked about like what I’d expect to see if Elle and I ever had a real
fight.
Closing my eyes, I let my nose explore the area. Setting aside the scents belonging to the
four of us, I attempted to read deeper. The problem was that the scents in the room were
all several days old, and there had been several people combing through this area since. I
could smell fear, betrayal, rage, murder, hatred, blood-lust and death quite clearly, but was
unable to place them in any sort of coherent order. After several minutes I gave up and
looked over at Noah. “I need a couple things, Bennet.”
“What?”
“Anything you have that belonged to Bernhelm. Preferably clothing, but at least something
no one else would have touched.” At his questioning look, I shrugged. “I need something
to separate his scent from everyone else’s. At the moment, I’ve just got a confused mess in
here.”
“All right. What else?”
A thought hit me as some of the scents started to sort themselves out, and I had to quickly
amend my statement. “Actually, I think I need two more things. I need completely
unrestricted access to his file. Nothing redacted, nothing deleted and absolutely nothing
missing. Elle and I need to know everything about the guy, down to the names of the girls
from his wet dreams if you’ve got them.
“We’ll also need to interview every agent he’s had contact with over the past two or three
years if they’re available.”
Noah frowned in thought for a minute. “I can probably get the file for you, but not today.
That’ll have to go through Thompson, so it probably won’t get here until sometime
tomorrow. Why do you need the interviews?”
“Because someone knows something. Someone always knows something. It’s probable
that he has someone working for him.”
“They won’t tell you, Havoc. If they’re actually working for him, they’ll never tell you the
truth.”
With a feral grin, I laughed. “You know me, Noah. I know when someone’s lying to me. If
they do, we’ll persuade them to be honest.” Letting the laugh die, I fixed him with my
coldest stare. “You may want to warn your people that lying to me is a very bad career
move.”
***********
Unknown Date; Unknown Location
It’s been some time since Havoc killed Meat and burned the carcass, along with the bodies
of its final victims. After gleefully watching Meat’s body turn to ash, he went hunting.
One at a time, he found the other three Dogs and freed them. They had been broken, and
cowered away from Havoc. Each one took hours to convince that Meat was truly dead.
The next step was to free the Bitches. Havoc knew that there were several, but neither he
nor the other boys knew where they had been kept. After several more hours they
stumbled across a hidden room in the Meat’s bedroom. Not only were there a dozen
different keys, but video of the abuses each Bitch had undergone, as well as a tally book
Meat kept to track how many lived, and how they died.
Over the next several hours, and encountering the same problems as when he liberated
the boys, he found and freed each of the surviving girls. When he was finished, he found
that six of the twelve had survived, and four had been found dead in their kennels. That
left two unaccounted for, until he remembered the two he had burned with Meat. They took
the four dead girls and placed them in the incinerator.
He wasn’t certain just how long ago that had happened. They had all been captured or
purchased long before they had any notion of time, and Meat had never bothered to teach
them. He did know that all of the boys, himself first of all, as well as the three youngest of
the girls, had undergone a series of physical changes. They had all begun to grow hair
where it had never been before. The boy’s voices, including Havoc’s, had grown deeper.
The girls had all begun to bleed for several days every thirty days or so.
One girl was the most predictable bleeder, and had become the unofficial time keeper for
the group as a result. She had begun to cycle roughly one hundred and twenty days after
what they all called the Freeing, and had cycled roughly ninety times or so to this point.
Over that time, they had become a completely self-reliant, closed community. Havoc, due
to his strength of will as well as his physical strength, became the leader of the group. The
boys still did the work they had always done, which included growing and harvesting food,
and keeping the area cleaned and in repair. The girls were also trained in those duties, but
taught the boys how to cook the food and clean the house as well.
As the good food and healthy work too effect, everyone grew healthier and stronger.
Protruding bones were covered as flesh filled out and muscle developed. Lifeless eyes
changed as they discovered hope and learned to enjoy life. The open wounds healed, and
the scars faded as their bodies healed.
Meat had not bothered with keeping clothing for his slaves, so they remained nude even
after the Freeing. When it became too cold for them to work outside, they quickly found
that there was plenty of work to be done inside. Among other jobs, they completely
stripped and cleaned Meat’s Pleasure Chamber, turning it into sleeping quarters for the
entire group.
The only real problem they had encountered was the sexual urges that both the boys and
the girls began to have. In order to prevent jealousy and fighting, Havoc created a
schedule of sorts. With the exception of the week or so she was on her cycle, each girl had
sex once or twice a week, as they desired, with the boy of their choice; provided each boy
also had sex at least once a week. Thus far, it seemed to be working.
Discipline was swift but rare. Depending on the nature and degree of the violation of the
agreed-upon rules, the punishments ranged anywhere from extra work to twenty lashes.
The judgments were always rendered, and the more severe punishments carried out, by
Havoc.
He had learned early that he was the strongest as well as the most agile of the ten
members of the small community. He had also learned that his senses of smell, sight and
hearing were far stronger than those of the other Freed. Since their lives had not taught
them trust, they lived in paranoia that strangers may come in and enslave them yet again.
For these reasons, Havoc performed regular security sweeps of the entire area. He also
took on the duty of hunting, and fashioned a hunting spear, bow, and arrows to aid him.
He is out hunting when the scent of strangers first reaches him. Immediately abandoning
the hunt, he disappears into the trees and begins tracking the intruders.
After following their scent for a short time, he hears them as they make their way through
the heavily wooded area. Slowing down, he begins to crawl through the branches until he
comes within sight of the strangers.
The first stranger is shorter, pale skinned and balding. In some indefinable way, he
appears much weaker than his companion. “Are you sure about this, Charles? There isn’t a
damned thing here.”
The one he called Charles is a large black man, slightly overweight but with an indefinable
aura of authority. “This is the area, Maury. My sources in the Trade told me that the guy who
lives somewhere in this area bought a boy matching our description maybe sixteen years
ago.”
***********
February 27, 2003; Odessa, Texas
The rest of the day was uneventful. Elle and I scheduled a series of interviews for
tomorrow to locate the agent, or agents, I was certain Bernhelm had working for him. Noah
had called in my request to see the entire, unedited, file, and had been told it would be
hand delivered tomorrow as well.
For appearances, we spent several hours, including a working lunch, with the Primatech
accountants. Later, we met with the book keepers for the clients who were furthest behind
in their payments. By the time we ate dinner and made it back to the penthouse, it was past
11.
Elle went into the bedroom to change into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt for bed. I followed
her with other plans. When she had stripped off the pantsuit, I came up behind her and
carefully restrained her.
Pressing my lips against the side of her neck, in a spot I knew to cause interesting
reactions, I ran my hand lightly across her bare stomach and nipped at her ear. The sudden
intake of breath and the almost violent shudder, combined with the unmistakable alteration
in her scent, told me all I needed to know.
She started to turn into me, but I held her in place. The hand I had been running along her
stomach slid in under her bra, massaging her breasts. The other hand, which had been
resting on her hip, slipped into her panties, where it began its own explorations before I
allowed my finger to slide into place, eliciting a moan of pleasure.
After quite a while of this, taking her to the brink without letting her past it, I released her
and let her turn into me, drawing me into a deep, hard kiss before she nearly ripped off my
suit and led me to the bed. Once there, we finished undressing each other, and I grinned
before pushing her into bed and joining her, where she happily returned the earlier favor
before our bodies joined.
