"Dayumm... you gotz summ set ov lungz on you... c'mon, stud. Letz go an' hav summ hevvy-duty suckin' an' fuckin' ..."
Jax winked at the young thug. "Ah'll seez you 'round, AJ... Don' leave. Afta Ah'm dunn wiff Adrian, Ah'll lock you in dat sling an' drill yo' ass..." The two men sauntered off, leaving the young thug at the bar. As AJ was finishing his drink, his eye caught a young white muscle-puppy and he grinned in anticipation; he left the bar and caught up with his next conquest.
At the same time, the barkeep inserted a pair of tongs into Thomas' glass and opened them up, lifting the glass off the granite bartop without disturbing it's outer surface. He put it into a plastic bag and gingerly placed it into a blue wastebasket.
* * *
"Arkadiy - take a look at this!" Dimitri Resnikov strode into his brother's office. In his hand he held a DVD. His older brother took the disk and inserted into his computer.
"Go to 2:15:22."
"The one with the tattoos said this was his first time here, so Alexei took his glass to run his prints..." He displayed a folder in his hand with a flourish. "Jax Thomas. A hit man. A very highly paid and extremely successful hit man..."
Arkadiy arched a brow and took the folder from his brother. He opened it and began to read. A slow smile broke over his face. "Hmmm.... very nice, indeed." He looked up at the video to see the view had changed to another room where Weaver and Thomas were brutally raping each other. "Bring him to me the next time he comes in."
* * *
Night had fallen and the streetlights glowed softly onto the manicured lawns and stately houses of Scarsdale. The van – stolen from the parking lot of a local Stanley Steemer franchise - was parked on a dark side road and the group of five thugs were gathered together in the back. The group was composed of Jax Thomas and Ajani Cole, along with Adrian Weaver and two of his more intelligent henchmen – Mariano Ruiz (a heavily built, bald Dominican who was one of his principal actors in the snuff films) and Terryl McBride.
"Mariano, you stayz outside. Make sure dat no one cummz near da house an’ if'n d'ey do, knock 'em out an' tie 'em up. Nuthin' else, unnerstand? We don' wan' no co-lateral damage..."
The other man grinned. "You got it, boss." That response engendered a deeper scowl on the face of Adrian Weaver as Ruiz cracked open the back door and slipped out into the darkness.
Jax turned to Weaver. "You don' needz to getz dat sour look on yo' face, Adrian. Da Resnikovs axed me ta getz rid ov da lawyer an' make it look like a random crime. Ain't nuthin' aginst you – Ah jus' gotz mo' experience doin' shit like dis an' bein' real carefull."
Weaver grumbled and Thomas continued. " 'Sides, Ah iz gettin' PAID t'do dis job – you do stuff 'cause you luvz doin' it firs' an' getz paid fo' it afta... an' Ah ain't lookin' t'replace anyone bruh ... Mariano an' Terryl are still yo' boyz..." He traced a gloved hand down the side of the thug's face and gave him a soft kiss. The gang-banger grunted and a small smile twitched onto his face.
"Letz git goin' then..."
* * *
Jeffrey Bollinger was a senior partner in the white-shoe law firm of Monteil, Hudson and Eiler and while many of his clients were large, multinational corporations, the largest percentage of his billable hours was servicing the criminal enterprises of Arkadiy and Dmitri Resnikov – with full and complicit knowledge of their illicit activities. Even with those monies flowing in, the lawyer became greedy; the brothers became aware of Bollinger making copies of damning documentation and while he had yet to try and blackmail them, they decided to eliminate the problem before that threat ever materialized. The next time Jax Thomas had entered the sex club, he was ushered into the brothers' offices and offered the job to kill the lawyer and obtain the stolen papers. With a grin – and a six-figure deposit – he accepted.
* * *
"D'eres fo' people in da house – da lawyer an' hiz wife, plus two kidz. Dis iz wat's gonna happen. AJ gotz da codez tah disable da security system. Soon as dat happenz Adrian, me an' Terryl iz goin' in an’ takin' anyone down. AJ gonna shut da door, turn off da lightz and re-arm da system. Reddy? Letz go!"
The four men sprinted to the back door.
* * *
Bollinger and his second (as well as trophy) wife Deborah were sitting at the dining room table when the kitchen door slammed open and the four thugs entered the room. They were too shocked to scream when Adrian pointed the AR-15 at them and hustled them into the living room as AJ and Jax took the stairs two at a time with barely a sound.
* * *
The two Nubians move quietly on the second floor and with hand signals, moved from room to room, finding nothing. As they approached the end of the corridor, Jax put up his hand. From the final room, they heard muffled noises. He nodded to his partner and kicked in the door, his gun held steady before him.
What greeted the two gang-bangers froze them in their tracks; on the bed was a small boy ... and he was being raped by a well-muscled 20-something with short, brown hair. The young man looked up in shock at the two masked intruders and AJ reacted first; with a cry of rage, he grabbed the rapist and threw him against the wall. As the assailant tried to get up, Jax gave him a swift kick in the ribs and pulled his arms behind him, fastening the wrists with a zip tie. He roughly pulled the naked young man to his feet and pushed him out of the door.
* * *
Bollinger and his wife sat on the sofa. Their wrists were bound behind their backs and their ankles were fastened as well.
Bollinger did not seem perturbed. Weaver put the muzzle of the AR15 underneath his chin and forced the lawyer to look at him. "Ah ain't gonna keepz axe-in' da same queshyun... where'z da fuckin' safe??"
A small, sardonic grin crossed the captive man's face. "You had better get the hell out of here now, BOY..." He sneered the last word. "You don't know who the hell you're dealing with..."
At that point, there was a massive THUMP from the upper floor. Both captives turned towards the noise and watched in horror as Bollinger's naked 24-year old son tumbled down the stairs. Jax followed and proceeded to grab him by his cuffs and throw him onto the floor in front of the other captives. Beneath the ski mask, Adrian was shocked as well – the hitman was always in complete control (even when sex was involved) and this was completely out of character."Jeff!" Bollinger yelled. "What did you do to my son?!"
"Dis sumbitch wuz fuckin' a baby!!" He gave him another kick in the ribs. The younger Bollinger groaned and curled up in pain.
"You BASTARD!" Deborah screeched and tried to rise from the couch. Weaver pushed her back down.
Adrian and Jax looked at each other and realized that the lawyer must had violated his older son in the same way. The gang-banger smashed the gun stock into the side of the younger man's head and he crumpled unconscious to the floor. Weaver gave the unconscious rapist feral grin. "Oh, we gotz sumpthin' REEL speshul plann'd fo' you, whiteboy... yes we do..."
* * *
The little boy had begun to scream when his older brother had been pulled off of him and dragged out of the room; he screamed even louder as the masked thug swept him into his arms and held him close, stroking his back. "Shhh, Swee-pea... noboddy gonna hurt you no mo' ..."
The cries soon turned to whimpers as AJ continued to stroke the child's back and murmured soothing words. Finally, he put the child back down on the bed and squatted so they were eye level.
"Wat's yo' name Swee-pea?"
The little boy sniffled. "D...Davey..."
"Dat's a reel nice name... how old you be, Davey?"
The little boy put up 4 fingers. AJ raised his dark eyebrows. "Wow... You iz FOUR? You iz a reel big boy... an' hansum too..."
"Who are you? Where's Jeffty?"
Cole paused. "Mah name iz AJ. .." His face hardened. "Mah friend took Jeffty downstairz 'cause he wuz bein' verry bad tah you."
"Did Jeffty do dem bad thingz to you a lot?"
The little boy hung his head. Then he nodded. AJ's face was a mask of rage. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.
"Did you tell yo' momma?" Davey shook his head and began to cry again. He climbed across the bed again and flung himself into AJ's arms.
"Jeffty said if I told Mommy she would send me away!" His cries were piteous and AJ held him close.
"He wuz lyin' Davey – yo' momma luvs you – she wood nevva sendz you away..." That confirmation quieted the little boy down. AJ sat him back on the bed. And held up an open hand with his five fingers outspread.
"Did he touch you dat way dis many times?"
He shook his head. "More."
"How many more, Swee-Pea?" The little boy held up both hands; one thumb was tucked in.
AJ wanted to scream. And kill that young fucker. "You likez bubble baths, Davey?" The little boy gave a small smile and nodded. "Well, Ah thinkz you shood hav one. C'mon..."
* * *
The other thug shook his head. "I wuz axe'in ‘im when you pitch'd da otha sumbitch down da stairz..."
The lawyer had regained his composure, even though his wife was now staring at him with undisguised hatred. Jax pulled a handgun with suppressor and shot him through the knee. The lawyer screamed in pain.
"Mr. Reznikov foun' out 'bout yo' hand in da cookie jar, Bollinger. Wherez da documentz you took?" He turned to the young woman seated next to the writhing lawyer. "Lawbooks here wuz stealin' frum da Russian mob..." She visibly began to shake.
Between the pain of being shot and Thomas' statement, the lawyer blanched. He realized his position and gulped.
"He's got one beneath his desk in the library. Under the carpet." Adrian motioned Terryl McBride to go into the other room.
"Shut up, Deborah!, SHUT UP! That's the only thing that is going to keep us alive!"
"Wat's da combin-ay-shun?" Silence. Jax cursed under his breath.
McBride returned. "Itz there, but it ain't got no keypad o' dial. Jus' summ dark glass plate onnit."
Jax put his revolver back into his waistband. "Show me."
Hit man and thug left the room and soon returned. Jax grabbed the lawyer's chin so their eyes met.
"Mah guess iz dat's a hand o' a foot scanner. Ah don' think itz an ret’nal scan since you ain't got da flexibility t'getz yo face down dat far, bein' da fat fuck you iz... an' you ain't da type ta be walkin' ‘round wiff bare feet..."
Jax watched as the man's pupils dilated as he spoke - an involuntary tell that the hitman spoke the truth - and started to walk away. Suddenly he pulled out the H&K once more and shot Bollinger between the eyes. Jax turned to Terryl. "Gimme dem cleaverz Ah saw in da kicchen. No sense draggin’ da body 'round when we cain jus' bring da handz."
Deborah Bollinger had duct tape wrapped around her mouth and was placed on the floor with the bloody remains of her husband slumping on the sofa; the older son had been similarly gagged and was wrapped in several black garbage bags and strapped with baling wire. The portion of the bag tied around his neck expanded and contracted as he breathed.
"We gonna take da whiteboy an' we iz gonna make ‘im pay..." Weaver kicked the squirming body. The thug shook his head. "Fuckin' a baby like dat ... "
"Ah'll be out inna minnit, bruh." He climbed the steps to see what was happening with AJ and the little boy as the other thugs left the house.
* * *
Jax followed the faint sound of voices and entered another room. This one was decorated in pale blue and white, with numerous Disney characters across the walls. AJ was sitting in a chair with the child on his lap and was reading from a book. With a shock, the hitman realized his lover was unmasked.
The child looked up with fear in his eyes at the tall, ski-masked and gun-toting intruder and began to whimper. AJ gave him a kiss on the top of his head. "No worriez, Davey. Dat's my friend. He be playin' a game right now. 'Copz n' Robbas' – he be one of da robbas... now where wuz we...??"
"The genie made the castle disappear..."
Jax stood dumbfounded at the scenario before him.
"Uh-huh. Da geenie took da palace inna a biiigg tornaydo ... you knowz what a tornaydo iz, right, Swee-pea?" The little boy nodded vigorously and spun his hand around and made whooshing noises.
"Dat's right. You iz real smart, you know dat? So da palace gotz put on the top ov dis big mountin far away an' Jaffar wuz laughin' hiz head off..." AJ gave an evil laugh and tickled the child in his arms. Davy giggled and snuggled closer into the young thug and then proceeded to give a big yawn.
"An' DAT tellz me itz time now fo' big boyz like you t'go tah sleep ... Yo' momma iz goin' ta finish dis story t'morrow nite..." AJ stood up and gently placed the little boy in the bed and covered him up. He gave him a kiss on the forehead.
"Sweet dreamz, Davey."
"Bye AJ ... " He embraced the young thug and kissed him back. AJ turned off the lights and quietly closed the door behind him as the two Nubians left the room.
Jax pushed him against the wall. His voice was a tight whisper. "Are you fuckin' crazy, AJ? We gotz a ded body downstairz missin' both handz, a whiteboy dat's gonna be work'd ovva an' kill'd an' summ psycho bitch tied up! Wat wuz you thinkin' ??"
Jax muttered several curses under his breath. "We iz leavin' now. Letz go. We gotz wat we came fo'."
"Ah ain't leavin' yet."
"WAT???!!!"
The young thug was adamant. "Ah gotz tah talk tah hiz momma. You getz outta here. Ah'll catch up wit'chu at da Greasetank inna few hourz an' 'xplain. Don' worry 'bout me. Jus' leave mah backpack."
Thomas continued his imprecations as he strode down the stairs.
* * *
A noise. She twisted her head to see a pair of powerful booted legs in black and grey camouflage descending the stairs. Oh God, there's one left. He wasn't wearing a mask or a shirt and that fact made her scream in her gag and twist even more. He's going to kill me.
"We gotz tah talk. If'n Ah takez dat gag offa you, you promiss not tah screem? One loud noise an' Ah cut yo' fuckin' haid off..."
She nodded and the Nubian pulled out a large K-Bar knife from his boot; he sliced the duct tape from her mouth and peeled it back. He sat on the couch so that his massive package was obvious through the material of his fatigues and leaned forward. The corpse started to tip towards him and he shoved it out of the way. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his dark, highly-developed muscular upper body and she felt her insides clench with a sense of delicious anticipation.
"You didn' tell da whiteboy, did'chu?"
"Don' fuck wiff me, bitch... You didn' tell 'im dat hiz brutha wuzn' hiz brutha, did'chu?"
She looked at him in shock. "I... "
At least she had the decency to look embarrassed. But that's probably an act as well.
AJ nodded. "Ah thought so. You wuz fuckin' da frat boy whiles Mr. High an' Mighty wuz fuckin' you. Davey iz da whiteboy's baby, not hiz haff-brutha, right?"
"H-How did you know...?? Davey? Is he...?"
"He be fine. Ah gave 'im a bubble bath, den Ah red tah him fo' a while an' den Ah put 'im t'bed with hiz Mr. Fluffy. Hiz daddy fuck'd 'im 'tween five an' nine timez, but Ah thinkz he'll forgit 'bout it inna few years..."
AJ's face grew harder. "Mah guess iz dat you hadda sign summ type ov pre-nup b'fo' you married dis old fuck..." He shoved the leaning corpse again. "... so's you hadz frat-boy wrapp'd 'round yo' cunt an' he wuz gonna getz rid ov hiz daddy fo’ you... den you waitz a few monthz an' den da wedding bells wuz goin' be ringin' agin... and wiff da baby, you gotz all da basez covva'd"
Deborah was speechless for a moment. "I... I married Jeffrey for his money. And he married me for the sex. I never cared for him, but when I met Jeff – his son - I had to have him. I figured that I needed a baby as well for insurance and keep my husband off balance. Jeff put an explosive bolt on the brake line with a remote trigger. During his next trip, he would drive behind him a few miles and then blow the line. There are plenty of accidents on the Sprain Parkway..."
"So Ah takez it dat you needz a boddy fo' identificayshun?"
At her puzzled look. "Frat Boy. He ain't gonna be livin' much longa afta wat he did tah dat baby. Yes o' no? Ah ain't gotz all nite. You gonna need dat fo’ da insurance an’ shit...??"
"Uh, yes. I guess so..."
"Ah'll let da bruthas know." With that, AJ got up and once again took out the knife and nicked the zip ties wrapped around Deborah's wrists.
"You cain bust outta dem now if'n you keepz at it. But don' call noboddy fo' two hours, unnerstand?" With that AJ removed a recorder from his pocket and pressed the "Replay" button. Deborah heard her voice and her confession through the small speaker.
"Jus' r'member, bitch ... dis can fin' itz way to da copz anytime... you takez care ov dat baby now likez yo' life dependz on it - 'cause it duz..."
AJ slung his backpack over his shoulder and left the house.
* * *
Adrian turned to Jax. "Mista R gonna be reel happy dat da problem iz gone. Go home an' chillax wiff AJ – Ah'll tell 'im where tah meet'chu when he showz up."
"Nuh-uh. Ah gotz t'punishment-fuck dat baby rapist. Lotsa timez." Jax gave the other thug a hard kiss and proceeded to the Resnikovs' office while Terrell, Mariano and Adrian dragged the captive into the sex club.
After the young Bollinger was unwrapped from his plastic prison, an eyeless black latex hood was slipped over his head and a collar was snapped around his neck. This was followed by a ball gag that was shoved into his mouth and locked in place. He was then duct-taped over a sawhorse and set up in one of the public spaces of the venue. He turned to Mariano.
"Leave him d'ere fo' a few hourz. We iz gonna hav one reel speshul snuff film to-nite."
Above him, Mariano put up a paper sign; almost immediately, a line began to form and the Dominican went deeper into the club to stir up more interest.
* * *
Jax was ushered into Arkadiy Resnikov's office and the Russian mobster gestured him to take a seat.
"I take it that the problem has been resolved?"
The hitman nodded and placed a large manilla envelope on the desk as well as a medium-sized plastic bag that made a wet, squishing sound as it hit the desktop. Resnikov quirked an eyebrow.
"Dat's hiz handz. He had da stuff inna safe wiff a han'print ID." Jax' face took on a harder cast. "We also had a littl' complicayshun... we caughtz da olda son rapin' hiz baby brutha... We took 'im back wiff us an' Adrian sed he'z gonna take care ov 'im..."
"We tied her up. She don' know nuthin."
"Excellent. I will deposit the remainder of your fee into the Caymans account tomorrow."
Jax grinned. "T'ank you, Mista Resnikov. Great workin' wiff you." He stood up and stretched, rubbing his bulging crotch. "An' if'n you'll 'xcuse me, Ah gotz summ mo' work wiff Adrian givin' dat baby raper summ real ass-fuckin' befo' he dead..."
* * *
Black Gold Lounge
Three Weeks Later
Jax Thomas was drinking a Corvoisier at the bar when a visibly upset Ajani Cole walked in. He ordered one as well and knocked it back in one gulp. Like the other men present, he had changed in the anteroom and was nearly naked, sporting a leather jock, combat boots and little else.
"Rico tol' me mah timez up..." He lowered his voice. "Ah gotz tah go back bein' who Ah wuz... Shee-it Jax, Ah luvz bein' a muscle-brutha an' a thug. Ah don' wantz t'be jist a whiteboy agin! EVVA! It ain't FAIR, bruh...Dis iz da way Ah shood be fo' da res' ov mah life!!!" Cole slammed his fist on the hard surface.
Jax pulled him close. "Ah know. Bein' like dis iz such a rush ... but nuthin' iz changin' fo' me - if'n you iz 'Ajani Cole' o' dat whiteboy 'Micah Benchley' you iz da one Ah wantz t'spen' da res' o' mah life wiff."
A look of absolute joy crossed the younger thug's face. Jax continued.
"An' you cain thinkz ov it dis way… You iz gettin' put inna speshul kinda prison an' you ain't gonna be seen fo' a while. But afta summ time, you be back … an' meanwhilez, Ah gotz me a cute whiteboy tah fuck whilez you iz away. Tho Ah gotz t'be mo' carefull rapin' hiz ass since you knowz how whiteboyz iz mo' delicate… dey cain't take da poundin' anotha brutha cain…"
Jax grinned and squeezed AJ's bulging package. "When you gotz t'switch back?""T'morrow. Ah gotz t'be back on Monday."
"D'en we gotta cel'brate t'nite. Letz go inta one ov da back roomz. Den you cain fuck mah brains out."
* * *
"Dayummm... Now Ah gotz me a skinhead tah fuck!!"
Micah laughed. "It feels so weird being white again, Jax. It doesn't even feel natural..."
Jax stood up and pulled his partner into a sweaty embrace. "Well, you iz gonna feel much betta afta Ah rapez yo' ass a few timez..." The two men held each other close, deeply kissing and exploring each others bodies and were completely oblivious as Zack excused himself. Thomas nuzzled his lover's neck. "Ah forgotz wat a fuckin' HOT whiteboy you iz..."
"I think this will work out perfectly..." The two broke their embrace to see Zack holding a pair of 18-eyelet boots in one hand and some bleacher jeans and other clothing in the other. "Why don't you head over to the Greasetank tonight?" His lips quirked into a wicked smile. "You two should turn a number of heads..."
Jax grinned. "Shitchyeah! Letz do it!"
Zack gave him a shove. "Go and get cleaned up, stud... Micah will be ready when you come out."
As the hitman left the room, the artiste looked at the rookie cop with a critical eye.
"Micah, hold on a moment. I want to do a little something on you for tonight." Zack jogged around a corner and came back with a small bottle and a pair of eyebrows and short beard. "Let's put these on." In a moment, the artificial hair was in place an he nodded in satisfaction. "Perfect. Those are on tight for at least fifteen hours. You can remove them with some warm isopropyl alcohol when you get home."
The Nubian hitman stripped off his sweaty workout gear and entered the industrial showers; in a short while, he emerged naked, with a towel slung over one massive shoulder and his ringed cock already hard again. He stopped in shock.
"Fuccckkk...we iz goin' tah hav summ fun to-nite!!!"
* * *
JAX
I slipped on a body harness and paratrooper boots and finished up with a warmup suit. Then we headed out of Zack’s warehouse and over to the Greasetank. We entered the sex club about fifteen minutes apart and it didn’t take long for my partner to find a muscle-puppy to skullfuck as a warmup. I was glad to see a newfound sense of confidence and domination in Micah’s actions – it was great to see at least some of Ajani’s hard-core habits were still with my whiteboy. I drilled a couple of Latinos and while I was at one of the bars, I saw the ginger skinhead hard at work thrusting himself into a muscle-brutha immobilized in a sling. Both of us were enjoying ourselves separately, but eventually we worked our way up onto the stage together. Micah fondled my painfully bulging crotch and nuzzled my neck. My whiteboy... my PROPERTY.
I spoke directly into his ear in a low voice. "Dat beard on tight?"
He continued. "Yeah, I’ve already done a ton of tonsil hockey and it’s fine."
"Good!" I grabbed his face in both hands and pressed my lips against his. Our tongues fought for control and we finally broke apart when we couldn’t breathe any longer. I spun him around and pushed him down over the sawhorse and undid the hidden zipper in the seat of his bleachers. I stroked the muscular globes of his ass.
I unsnapped the pouch from my harness and poured a thick coat of lube onto my aching cock then squirted another good amount up his chute. "Time fo’ you tah get some REEL meat up dat skinhead ass!" My dark hands grabbed his hips and my nine-inch tool slammed in until my balls hit his cheeks.
Micah shouted as I split him open. "Harder, Jax! HARDER!!"
I was breathing hard. "You sure you cain take it, whiteboy??"
"DO IT!" I jackhammered his ass like there was no tomorrow. The crowd was roaring their approval at our fuckfest and despite the pain inflicted, I could see that Micah was enjoying it as well. After about 15 minutes, my vision started to darken around the edges; my balls began to churn and I threw my head back as unloaded gallons of cum up his ass. I gripped his waist as my head spun and blood roared in my ears. After a few moments, my breath steadied and I opened my eyes. My partner grunted as I pulled out and shoved a thick plug into his dribbling pucker; I closed the zipper and slapped his ass to get up. We were both grinning like idiots as we stumbled off the stage.
The rest of the night was blur. We double-teamed several bruthas; we even double-dicked Mariano. Eventually we staggered home to my apartment and after a long cool shower, settled into bed. Micah had removed his artificial hair and I spooned into him, once again thrusting my shaft up his eager hole. I marveled at my dark hand stroking his powerful (now Caucasian) body until his breathing quieted and he fell asleep. I began to doze off myself, but not before the thought crossed my mind … I wonder when will my time be up?
* * *
It took me a several more weeks to gather the courage to approach Rico. During that time I had done another contract killing for the Resnikovs and giving him his cut was the perfect excuse to broach the subject of my own possibly imminent Conversion back to the white man I no longer wanted to be. Thanks to him and Zack, I was now a multi-millionaire - the monies from the murders I had committed for the Russian mobsters were safely placed in several Grand Cayman accounts that Zack had set up for me. Micah had also moved into my apartment; the best thing now was waking up next to him every morning and fucking him senseless or having him do the same to me.
"D'ere you go, boss - yo' cut frum mah last job."
He put the envelope in a drawer. "Thankz bruh, Ah madez a reel good pick wiff you..."
"Uh, Rico ..." He raised both eyebrows. "... Ah knowz AJ hadda go back t'bein'... jist... y'know...Micah... an' Ah wuz wunderin' when Ah... ummm..."
He held up a dark hand. "Jax, you cain stay dis way az long az you wantz. Ah tol' Isaiah an' Najeem da same thing. Ah ain't tellin' you when tah becumm a whiteboy agin. Dat's upta you." He gave me a sly grin. "An' if'n you wantz tah stay a black man, dat's fine too... Ah ain't switchin' back - becummin' a brutha wuz da bes' thing dat evva happen'd tah me."
It was my turn to look surprised. There had been hushed conversations about Sergeant Jamie Reardon staying the gang-banger 'Rico Landry' and he just confirmed those rumors. Ever since Tony McLaren and Charlie Hawke had re-Converted to black felons, the whispers were going around that permanent Conversions into Nubians with extensive criminal records - and with regularly scheduled criminal activities - would be the next step Rico would undertake with the officers of the Four-One.
"Rico, you think dat summtime in da future AJ cood cumm back too? Like Ray-Ray and Benjie?"
A bigger grin split the thug's face. "Ah don' seez why not... if'n he behavez hisself an' don' forgit to gimme my cutz on time... Ah think we cood do sumpthin' inna few months... Dere's gonna be a lotta changez cummin' soon here anywayz..."
I grinned back at him. "Thankz, boss. Ah really 'preciates dat!"
* * *
The decision to Revert was not wholly mine; criminal acts and murder had now become second-nature to me and rather enjoyable as well, but when Dmitri Resnikov wanted me to eliminate a police officer, something snapped. I refused the job. Even when he doubled the fee. Then tripled it. Even being who I was now, at least there were still some lines I couldn't and wouldn't cross. I also had been thinking of my life with Micah now. I could share that with the guys from the Four-One, but really nowhere else. And the Greasetank didn't count. Hell, even my own family wasn't aware of my proclivities and I was damned if I was going to let that continue and keep that part of my life - and Micah - hidden away.
I kissed his ear. "Micah, Ah've been thinkin' 'bout wat Rico sed 'bout me stayin' a brutha... Ah wuz gonna do it 'cause bein' dis way is such a fuckin' rush... an' da fact Ah don' hav an offishul crim'nal record wood make our livez t'gether easier ... but Ah wanna be able t'go out wit'chu t'other placez 'sides just sex clubs..."
He turned around and kissed me. "Believe me, I know how much you love being a Nubian, Jax. I still miss being a black man every time I look in the mirror. But I won't stand in your way if that's what you really want." His eyes twinkled. "Because whether you're 'Jax Thomas' or 'Cash Ingraham', I love you with all my heart, and wherever you want to go and whatever you want to do, that's fine with me."
"Shee-it..." I wiped a tear from my eye. "God, wat did Ah do t'get summ-one like you?"
"Jackhammered that gigantic cock of yours up my ass, what did you think?"
I started to laugh and couldn't stop. Micah joined in. "Lemme call Zack an' set it up."
* * *
We talked at length about our time as Nubians. At some point, the two of us may Convert back into black men for a while and have some not-so-legal adventures - who knows? At least we know that's an option that's on the table.
Both of us also know that there wouldn't be a problem if we ever wanted to go the permanent route and become muscle-bruthas forever - we're filthy rich thanks to the Resnikovs and we could start our own criminal empire. Or porn studio. Or both.
Micah is coming home with me to Ohio for Thanksgiving. It's time my family finally knows about me and the man I love.
And I don't give a flying fuck if they disapprove.
Money can't buy happiness ... but it's already bought us a villa in Ibiza.
* * *
But I perservered and it's done. I'm happy with the ending and the way that even the most amoral of characters - Adrian, in this case - still had some things that even HE could not countenance.
Writing this arc also brought up to the forefront how different the cops are at the Four-One; not only they can (and do) experience what it's like to be a criminal, but the unspoken standards they uphold amongst themselves - from their physiques, to their inkings, to their striking good looks and to their mental attitudes - I've often thought of them as a combination of Jedi Knights and porn stars!
While I've exhausted Zack's "Transformation" Process, I don't think I've finished with the Four-One. There are other stories I'm thinking of involving these unique officers and I'm hoping to start planning new stories as well.
As always, a very big "Thank You" to my readers for your continued interest and patience in waiting for Micah and Cash's finale!
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