Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Roper 32 - Lazarus

It is funny what you notice when under stress.

I was painfully aware of the wet stones I sat on, the sweet tropical smell of the of the nearby, the lingering diesel fumes and even the chemical smell from my plastic handcuffs that tied my feet and my hands together.

Maybe it was a reaction to my death I knew would occur within the next 5 minutes, or at least when that filthy swine stopped talking.

The knife that killed L. drew figure eights in front of my face. The pearl handle in crass contrast to the dark hand holding it.

I looked up to the sweaty, wide eyed face of Guinea. Savoring every minute of this, breathing heavy, eyes flickering towards the shape of The Mandrake and M. also lying hogtied on the slimy stones.

Sorry girls, can`t. Really can`t.

I phased him out, tried to focus away from my helplessness and starred over the tropical sea and the reflection of a ridiculous white moon.

A hand appeared besides an old AC unit. Fighting for purchase. Than another appeared.

My heart was about to stop as a large body clumsily, but steady as a glacier, pulled itself onto the yards low guard rail before it fell into a heap on to the floor. Moaning silently.

I could not believe my eyes as L. unfolded himself, standing shakily. Leaning against the old, rusty AC for purchase and nearly knocking it out of its decayed frame, which could not hold his weight.

The girls made noises that probably would have been screams of joy if the duct tape would not have been there.

Guinea, having his back to the sea,  took it for screams for terror and his grin grew ever wider.

L. stood and looked at the AC, at Guinea, at the AC again and shook the it with one hand as the other pulled his lasso from the large pocket of his photographers west.

"Now, my friend, it is time to die." Looking at the girls "But you my pretties have a long night ahead of you!"

"See, you SAY that..." L said as he tied one end of the lasso to the AC unit.

Guinea turned with a sickening grace and starred at L. leaning against the guard rail. Bleeding, holding a large loop of rope in his head which he started to swing over his head.

"Ah, the boy who likes to play with ropes!" Guinea said as he danced closer to L. "It will be my pleas...."

He did not come any further as L . threw his rope. The loop caught the slime sacks right leg only centimeters under the right knee.

Guinea stopped up and laughed.

"Seriously boy? What now? Holding the tiger by its tail? I mean I do admire the general effort and motivation but..."

He did not manage to say more as L.`s right fist pounded into the AC several times and knocked it loose from its frame. 

It balanced for one or two seconds on the frames edge before falling towards the dark waters of the Bosporus.

The rope SANG as it became taught and swept Guinea from his feet.

He screamed with a shrill, high pitched voice and he was dragged over the yard. Desperately trying to gain purchase on the century old, smooth stones. 

He even tried to jam his knife into the ground, creating an impressive long line of sparks as he was dragged along.

L. waved a weak goodbye as Guinea was pulled past him and over the guard rails where he finally managed to hold on to the round vertical bars. Even now he swung his knife in wide arcs in an last attempt to hurt L.
L. stood, swaying and bleeding and then KICKED the hand the killer used to hold himself with.

Once. Twice.

And Guinea was flying .

L. too. But his flight was shorter as he fell backwards and hit the ground with a sickening noise.

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