2 comments/ 3034 views/ 4 favorites The Drifter's Swan Song By: BrainVamp Preliminary note: This story is part 2 of another piece I wrote a few months ago. You can find it here: www.literotica.com/s/the-ballad-of-a-drifter. Of course the Swan's song can be read as a standalone but I'll make references to events that occurred in the previous story so you might find yourselves a bit lost. I hope you enjoy it and of course all comments are always welcome. --------------- The drifter's Swan song 1. Sitting on the porch of the three story building, the two large black men looked inconspicuous in the mainly colored neighborhood. To the trained eye, those two plus the one in the back of the delivery truck across the street were part of the same system. A system whose only goal was to guarantee the anonymity and safety of the agency's main safe house in the hearth of Manhattan. The stooped old lady with the large tartan bag walked past them without raising any suspicion. This is why I had chosen her: angelical face, colored and in appearance absolutely harmless; a perfect counter system made to bypass the security measures implemented by my former employers. She entered the building and got out of my sight. I started the car and moved away. There was nothing else I could do; either the plan would work or I would have to try another approach to solve my problem. I was already far when finally the old woman reached the basement of the building. She opened her worn off bag and flipped two switches. The artisanal bomb she was carrying exploded in a great ball of fire. The building held for a few instants before collapsing. On the last floor, my target as well as the two men protecting him would not survive. Good. The traffic lights were red when the girl with the bleached bangs knocked on the passenger's window. She looked young and innocent, lost in the large city. But her far too short skirt and her far too low neckline prevented anyone from having any doubt on her actual line of work. I rolled down the window. "Looking for company Baby?" I opened the door, she sat and we drove off. "Payment up front Baby," she said I handed her three Benjamins. "Nice," she said stuffing the bills in her small bag, "with this, you get me for the whole night." I continued driving ignoring her. "So, your place or a hotel?" The flat I had been using to prepare the operation was compromised and a hotel would the first place they would look for me. "Yours," I said. She tried to complain but a quick glimpse at my eyes convinced her to go along with it. She had me drive her to an old apartment building in Harlem. When she told me that we had arrived, I drove two more blocks and abandoned the car on a disabled parking spot just to be sure to have it picked up within the next twenty four hours. We walked back to her small flat. The place stank, both figuratively and literally. It hadn't been repainted since the construction of the building which had probably happened sometime between the second and third crusade. In the living room in front of a crumbling couch, the TV was on showing one of those infomercials. On the screen, a woman explained how buying a set of shitty knives made in China had changed her life. "So Baby, what do you want me to do?" She asked taking off her top. "I want you to shut up and watch TV. I have a couple of phone calls to make." She looked at me with curiosity but finally she sat down on the couch and stared at the woman. I walked to the bedroom and closed the door. The place looked even worse than the living room. An old mattress full of unidentified stains and a three legged chair composed the essential of the room's furniture. A half empty vodka bottle, a crack pipe and a few crystals in a small plastic bag waited for the girl to come back on the floor by the bed. After careful consideration, I dismissed the chair and sat on the bed. I picked up one of the phones I had bought the night before. I dialed. "It's done." I said the moment I was connected. "Perfect. Payment will be sent through the usual means." The man's voice said on the other end of the line. I hung and snapped the phone in half. I took the second phone and dialed another number. "Jack, is that you?" "Yes mistress, I'm done here in New York, I should be with you in two days, I picked up a driver." "Good, we're so eager to have you back with us, don't take too long Jack." I stretched and looked at my watch. I opened the door to the living room. "You have a car?" The girl looked at me blankly from the couch. "I said: do you have a car?" "No," she answered shaking her head. "Do you know anyone who has a car?" "My pimp does." "You call him then and tell him to bring it." Twenty minutes later, someone rang. I readied my silenced glock, hid behind the door and gave the bleached haired girl the signal to open it. A very large man entered the room but before he could say a word I lodged two bullets into the back of his skull. He was dead before hitting the ground. In a harsh voice I ordered her to take the keys. I walked back to the room; I shoved the crack and the pipe in my pocket, emptied the vodka bottle on the bed and threw a match on it. When I came back to the room she was waiting for me in the doorway with the keys of the car in her hand. I stepped over the body avoiding the pool of the blood that had formed around the head. I grabbed the girl by the elbow and closed the door behind us. The flames where already licking the walls of the living room. The smell of the man followed me all the way down to the street. I was starting to feel thirsty and it wasn't good, I had to get out of town first. We found the car in front of the building. In the distance I could hear the firemen sirens. I sat behind the wheel and I took the direction of the Georges Washington Bridge. A bit after Newark I left the interstate and drove for a few blocks before stopping in front of what looked like an all night dinner. I needed sustenance and I needed it quickly. I told the girl to stay in the car and sleep for a while. The place was well lit but nearly empty. Two men were having a beer in a small booth. I walked to them. "You two, get out of here and forget about me." They got out the door after leaving a useless and quite generous tip on the table. I walked back to the bar. The waitress was cleaning the counter. "You alone?" I asked. "Yes," she answered blankly. "Good," I said. I jumped over the counter. "On your knees," I ordered. She complied obediently. I helped her with my zipper and belt and enjoyed her warm lips over my cold stiffness. When finally I unloaded, I went on satisfying my other need. I then snapped her neck and walked out of the diner. Without waking up the bleached haired whore, I took back the interstate and drove until the morning early lights. The next night at a gas station I tried to call my mistress but the call didn't get through. I took the wheel and a bit troubled, I drove towards home. On the passenger seat the whore seemed nervous, unable to sleep. Once again I left the highway and stopped on small deserted mountain road. I gave her the crystals collected from the flat. She prepared a pipe and smoked it compulsively. She started to prepare a second one but I took it all back. I didn't know how long I would need her and finding crack in Montana was not easy. Soon she became nervous and aggressive so I stopped again and fucked her senseless on the hood of the car. She finally fell asleep on the back seat. I drove until morning. Before waking her up to take the wheel I tried again to call my mistress. This time the communication went through. "Jack?" a male voice said. "Who is that?" "That's not relevant Jack. What is relevant is that we have them both." "Okay what do you want?" "What else Jack, we want you." I hung up the phone before the man could expose the intolerable conditions of my surrender. At least this way I gave my mistress and my sister a slim chance of survival. They were at our place. That's all I needed to know. 2. After the destruction of the Eternal Bliss, my mistress, Mary and I went on the run. My mistress told us about her... our kind. The residence I had destroyed was only one of a much larger network of hideouts for our species to hide until human society would crumble back to the Middle Ages allowing them... us to rule again. For four years we hid in the shadows, moving from town to town, disguising our feedings in accidents or mundane murders and avoiding the places where our people gathered. My mistress got tired of running and she made me build her a small palace deep into the northern Montana woods. I found a large property belonging to a wealthy investor from New York. The closest town was thirty miles away. We had the man gather his whole family and we slaughtered them. We only kept one of his grand daughters, a teenager called Emily, as our maid. She was to protect us during the day. I used the men's wealth to make us disappear from the face of the earth. I finally organized a plane crash to cover up the tragic death of the whole clan. We settled there and for four more years we lived happily. I would go down to the larger cities of the area both in the US and Canada to collect drifters and whores to provide us with our weekly feedings. I would always make sure that they wouldn't come back. Those years were good but probably because of the global financial crisis and despite our little needs; the money collected from our victims became insufficient. That is when I convinced my mistress to let me go on larger trips out in the world. After a while she accepted and this is how I ended up as high end hit man for the mob. 3. When I woke up the next night, the car was sitting on a small road a few miles away from our little nest. The girl was waiting for me as instructed at the bottom of an old oak smoking cigarette after cigarette. I walked to her. She looked anxious. Going with only one fix on two consecutive nights was taking its toll on the girl's fragile psyche. Once again I handed her the pipe. The situation reminded me of my last night as a human, only this time I wasn't as well equipped as I had been on the faithful morning preceding the night my mistress had made what I am now. I walked back to the car and popped the trunk open. I loaded my gun, stuffed my pockets with a couple more clips and went to check on the girl. She was sitting in the same spot, smoking her drugs. "You'll wait for me here. If I'm not back by dawn on the day after tomorrow you'll walk through those woods in a straight line until sunset and then you'll kill yourself." She nodded. I left the clearing and took the direction of our house. It took me half an hour to reach the limits of the property and another half hour to be in sight of the lights of the residence. I climbed on a tree and waited. I spotted immediately the three men with the AK 47 on the large circular balcony of the second floor and the two man with the UZIs by the main door. All humans, they would be easy to take out if I had to. After twenty minutes, a woman came to check on them, she didn't carry any weapons. She wasn't human, she was one of us. I was too far to hear the conversation but after a while she got back in. At least five humans and two of us, frontal assault would be complicated but I had the advantage of the terrain and could probably come up with something with a more subtle approach. This was my turf after all, I knew it like the back of my hand. I waited some more. An hour later, with nothing new happening on either fronts, I decided it was time to move on. I was about to crawl down from my tree when a movement on the small ridge to the south of the house gave up the sniper. This situation was now looking a lot more dangerous. All in all what I needed was information. Who they were where they came from, what was their weak spot... I approached him from behind. He seemed alone. His posture and gear told me he wasn't military. Probably a talented civilian. I envisaged three different ways to take him out silently. I moved away and got back to the car. I drove it as closely to the house as it would be reasonable and sat the girl behind the wheel, waiting for me. She looked relieved. I went back to the sniper. He hadn't moved. Swiftly I sneaked upon him and muffled him before he could react. I turned off his radio. "Where are the girls?" "I don't know. They were taken away during the day." I needed more information and the humans wouldn't provide it to me. I snapped his neck, took his ear plug, turned back on the radio and waited. Not ten minutes after, a woman's voice creaked in my ear. "Eyes in the skies? Report." Where did those guys came from? Come on: "eyes in the skies"! "Eyes in the skies is dead you bitch. Come and get me if you dare."I said in the ear piece. Before moving on I took out two guys from the balcony and one of the guys by the door. The house started pouring armed men like a kicked anthill. I ran through the woods as my former position was properly erased from the face of the earth by an impressive rain of led. I circled the house, aiming for the back door. I took out my glock. It would be useless against one of ours but it would do the job against the rest of the servants. As expected, most of the security was on the other side of the house looking for me. After dispatching two more men, I quickly moved through the familiar hallways towards the small panic room I had discovered last winter. On the large bed, Emily was waiting for me. She was naked, her slender body savagely drained, her ass and pussy raped many times by the monster I had spoken over the phone the night before. The smell of sex and death turned me on for a second but I had a mission to accomplish and no time to lose. Out of respect for her dedication I closed her eyes and covered her body with a blood stained blanket I found laying on the floor by the bed. I then walked to the concealed door in the closet and entered the small panic room. I switched on the monitors. My enemies had brought a small army. At first, the one I was looking for eluded me but finally I found her. The male was probably coordinating the search for me outside and the female, surrounded by three servants, kept the fort. If I wanted to capture one of them, I had to act now. I left the panic room. They were holed up in one of the larger basement cellars. I kicked down the door and stormed the room. In the blink of an eye I was behind her. I took out one of the men, the other two returned fire. One of the bullets pierced my arm but the rest went exactly where I wanted them and the female was properly shredded to pieces by the UZI's steady fire. With two clean shots, I cleared the room. The woman cursed me through her teeth as I dragged her out of the house. The sound of the firefight had drawn back the men from outside leaving me a clear path to the car. I threw the woman's carcass in the trunk before jumping on the back sit under the gunshots of my pursuers. The whore drove us away from what had been our home for the last four years. We were already back on the main road by the time the men reached their cars. I took the wheel and drove the three of us to our next destination: an abandoned hunting refuge. 4. My mistress, Mary and I had been holed up in our small retreat for nearly a year when I had my first run with one of our own. I was hunting a delicious looking runaway looking for a ride on a gas station parking lot when I realized that I wasn't the only predator after the girl on that night. Just as I was about to go up to my prey and offer her a warm soup and a nice place to spend the night, she was approached by a medium aged lady. If it hadn't been for the non human heat signature I could have sworn that she was here to actually help her. But the distinctive color of her aura shining in the darkness arose my curiosity. She didn't look bright white as my mistress did nor watery blue as Mary did, her tone was more brownish. I got into my car and with the lights off I followed the lady's old pickup truck along a small road into the woods. She stopped by a nice British looking cottage. I managed to avoid being spotted and walked silently towards the flowered house. I sneaked through a window. The runaway was sitting on a small wooden chair while the lady was starting a fire in the old chimney. She then sat by the girl her back to the window and they started talking. After a while she served the girl some soup from a pot that was hanging over the fire. She then walked to the door of the cabin and called for me. I walked out of the shadows. Apparently, she had spotted me in the gas station and he offered me to share the girl. I accepted. I was introduced as a friend of the lady to the runaway. We sat by the fire on a large animal pelt enjoying a bourbon. The runaway started to feel trapped when the lady pulled on a rope that released a weird structure from the ceiling. Made of leather and chains, this structure sustained a hanging harness in its center. We subjugated the girl into undressing and we started our feast. With already a few bites in the girl's body, the lady asked me to help her put the girl into the structure. Then we passionately had sex, blood dripping from the girl's wounds on our naked intertwined bodies. Looking down on us from up there, she moaned as we screamed. After we both came a couple of times the lady brought the harnessed girl closer to the ground so we could fuck her as well. Finally we sucked her dry as the sun rose over the woods. The lady accepted me in her hidden chamber and I spent the day sleeping by her side. The next night we talked. We talked a lot. She told me more about our kind in a single evening than my mistress had in the last five years. She told me about the council of the five, she told me about the Eventide Society, she told me about the destruction the Eternal Bliss, she told me about the fright that had swept through the ranks of our kind in the expectation of the next attack. She also told me that she kept to herself away from the affairs of our kind but that it was always a pleasure to open her home to a drifter like myself. I told her my story and when the time came for me to kill her she almost accepted it. I kept this little adventure from my mistress blaming my delay on the harsh winter that made the hunt quite complicated. Deep down, I still cherish the memory of this other monster with whom I had shared a delicious night. 5. Torture is not a science, it's not precise and results are never guaranteed. It isn't an art either, the simpler the ways to inflict pain and terror the better the results. It is also extremely time consuming, but I had no other option and therefore I had to resort to it to get the information I needed. Tied with chains to a metallic ring sealed to the basement floor, the monster I had captured was trying to regenerate the bullet wounds. Without sustenance and considering the extent of the destruction caused by the Israeli SMGs, the healing would take a really long time. "At this rate, you should still be spilling your guts by the beginning of the next decade." I had started my interrogation. It's important to set a context at first. Another way of saying: "you're fucked, face it..." She spat at me in response. "I'll be back tomorrow night; maybe we'll be able to talk then," I said before leaving her in the darkness. When I reached the main room of the hunting refuge, the bleached hair girl from New York was lighting a fire. As I observed the back of her neck with desire, I realized that the wound in my arm was killing me. I already had her almost off her drugs and so heavily under my control that it would have been a shame to use her to solve such a trivial problem. Lighting a cigarette, I checked my watch. I still had three hours before sunrise. I decided to go out to hunt. The Drifter's Swan Song In the last four years I had made everything to avoid hunting in the vicinity of our hideout but after tonight's events it was more than compromised and I had no reason to refrain myself. Over the last years, I had filled up the gas to our different vehicles in a small gas station at the edge of the next town. Over the hood of the car I had a magnificent view on a small house in which lived a magnificent and lonely woman. Now the time had come for me to pay her a proper visit. By sunrise, I went to sleep my arm almost healed and my dick still covered by the dry juices of the woman. As I fell asleep I could hear the bleached hair girl digging in the woods to dispose of the remains of my dinner. The next evening, the woman in the basement looked much worse than the night before. She spat at me again and once again I left her alone. I spent the evening listening to the whore's life story. For ten days, we waited prisoners of a strange routine. I would wake up, go see the woman in the basement and get spat at. I would them come up and talk with the whore. Sometime before dawn we would fuck and I would go back to sleep. The last of the crystals had been gone for a while but the girl didn't seem to mind anymore. She looked better, some meat had piled up in her hips and her face was losing the chalky grayness it had when I had picked her up. On the eleventh night I felt that the woman in the basement was almost ready. Her wounds had started healing but due to the blood depravation her body had to consume itself to close the wounds. I went down and emptied a clip of dumdum bullets in her gut. She screamed in pain until sunrise. We left her alone the night after. For what I'd had to do I needed a clear mind so the next night, I went up north to a small Canadian university town and raped my way through an old woman's house who rented rooms to girl students. The first one was asleep, I only took her blood covering her lips with my hand; the second one was taking a shower, the hot water on her warm body made our primal embrace much pleasurable, the third one was painting her foot nails in front of TV, this one I made her scream. I finally crucified the old woman in her cellar. My appetites had been satiated. The news hadn't caught up with my previous killing but this one would most certainly make the headlines in a couple of days. I didn't mind as my prisoner in the basement was now ready to talk and I would soon move on. This time I took the whore with me. The heap of pain and blood in the basement was unable to take her eyes off the girl. I made the whore take off her clothes. With this last days diet of clean air and good food, she looked quite desirable. I took my knife and slashed a large cut between her tits. Under my control, her pain turned to pleasure. I was rock hard but my previous night's feast allowed me to keep focused on the task at hand. At our feet, the blob of despair and suffering chained to the floor wasn't so lucky. "So are we going to talk now?" I asked. "Fuck you." A net progress, but we were still not quite there yet. I took out my dick forced the whore to bend. I penetrated her violently from behind. My fangs brushing against her neck, my glowing red eyes pinned into the creature's. With each thrust, the whore's blood splattered the floor in front of my captive's feet, barely out her reach. I unloaded, took the knife and made another incision on the whore's belly making her blood pool with my sperm and her juices between her legs. I had her seat on her ass touching herself in front of the prisoner. "Where are the girls?" She growled but her resolve was almost dead. "I will repeat myself one last time, if you don't answer I'll leave and I'll burn down the house. I doubt you survive but if you do I'm pretty sure you'll rot in here for years before anyone comes by." Her eyes weren't on the whore anymore, they were on me. She knew what would be the outcome of tonight session. "Where is my family?" I asked one last time. After a very long pause she finally answered: "La Havana, Hotel Nacional, Malecon." "Thanks," I said. I took out my glock and severed her head from her shoulders thus ending all this unnecessary suffering. I sent the girl upstairs to gather our things and poured gasoline on the corpse. When I got out of the house the girl was showering with a bucket of cold water by the small shed where the hunters used to hang the carcasses. We had a long drive ahead of us so I got into the car and waited for her. She sat by my side and looked at me. "Are you going to kill me too?" I didn't answer, lit two cigarettes, one for me, one for her and drove on the small road away from the refuge that was burning down. 6. The dynamic of our little trio had changed over the years. In the first months, my mistress taught us of our condition. She taught us to fear the sun, she taught us how to bend the will of humans, she taught us that our cravings where different than our needs, she taught us how to hunt, how to kill, how to take pleasure out of it, she told us that our condition would grant us powers, that they would come with time, that each of us had different powers. But my mistress had been born to a privileged French family in the beginning of the XVIIIth century and she had never actually struggled for anything. My mistress lacked the killer instinct that had made me one of the best at what I used to do. So I took Mary under my wing and started training her. I took her away from our nest, unfed and naked threw her in a deep forest and left her come back to us. She did. I gave her a target, a dangerous drug lord from Detroit, and told her to bring me his head. She did. When we finally settled I taught her about guns and explosives, I taught her about counter intelligence and interrogation techniques, I taught her about traps and sieges, I taught her about the real internet, the networks under the network, I taught her about all that I knew and she learned well. My mistress looked at my efforts with apparent disdain but I knew she was secretly proud of me. In return Mary taught me how to care and love again. Her juvenile figure would crawl by my side in the dawn's early lights and she would lay there still until we both fell asleep cold body against cold body. She managed what I hadn't done in all my wanderings: she gave me peace of mind. Her candor and raw joy of life brought me back to my youth, to the sweet moments of father daughter bonding I had enjoyed as a young man still in love with my wife. With my new family I could finally put the old one to rest. I learned to live again. That's what families do, they learn from each other, even the most dysfunctional families as our own. 7. Like Japanese Kamikaze aiming American destroyers during the last days of World War II, squadrons of mosquitoes flew one after the other into the blue light hanging over the door. On the bed of my hotel room, I opened the small package my contact had given me earlier that evening. A glock, six regular clips, four loaded with specially made incendiary ammunition, a pair of binoculars, a bullet proof vest, eight concussion grenades and a GPS tracker. Everything was there. I adjusted the vest under the guayabera, I checked the gun one last time before hiding it in my back making sure that the large white shirt would hide it and threw the rest of the stuff into a small blue backpack. The man looking back at me in the mirror looked like a regular tourist, good. I called reception to have them call me a taxi and left my room. "A donde vamos?" the driver asked me. "Hotel Nacional, por favor." I answered in my limited Spanish. "Okay sir," he said in an even more limited English. It was my first time in Havana and so far everything had gone according to plan. I leaned back looking out the window of the old Cadillac, young and desirable couples walked down the large seafront avenue. The island had been a paradise for the wealthy and a nightmare for the poor and despite forty years of Castro rule and US embargo things had come back to the same point with the wealthy replaced by the tourists. But people seemed careless, ready to dance as soon as some music would hit their ears. Getting here hadn't been as complicated as I had feared. After bitching for at least fifteen minutes about my ten years of silence, Mike had arranged my trip and a contact to get me what I needed. "Okay John, I don't know who you're waging a war against but if you get caught you're on your own, old friend. I know I'm a deputy director but I'm pulling a shit load of strings to get you all this. Since the Bay of Pigs you can understand that we have a small issue with any king of operation on the Cuban soil." He seemed to be waiting for an answer. As I hadn't anything to say to that I waited. "Anyway if you get out of this alive, I'd love to pay you a beer someday," he finally concluded. "I'll keep it mind. Thanks Mike." "Canadian?" the driver asked pulling me out of my thoughts. "Hum," I answered. "First time in Cuba, sir?" "Hum." "I can show you around, if you want?" "Hum." "I have a cousin, she really nice, if you want I can call her, she really good company, she studying medicine..." I looked at him in the rear view mirror and made him shut up. The hotel Nacional had been built at the beginning of the last century by the Mafia to serve them as a front for their semi legal activities on the Island. Apparently after the fall of Batista, management had changed. The council of five had settled here by the end of the fifties. This is where my mistress and Mary where behind held captive. A fully uniformed bell boy opened my door. I paid the taxi and entered the hotel. A small man approached me. "Mr. Jack?" he asked with a strong Cuban accent. I nodded. "My master is waiting. Please follow me." He turned around walking towards one of the large elevators in the hall. He stopped a fat old couple of tourists from getting in with us and pressed the button to the last floor. When the doors opened, we were expected by two large gorillas. The one to my right tried to approach me to frisk me but the bullet that ended between his eyes convinced him otherwise. The other one tried to reach for his gun but the smoking muzzle aimed at his face stopped him. "I don't need to kill you, don't force me," I said. But after a moment of hesitation, he did. I turned around to point the gun towards the small man that had greeted me. "Please sir, I can't..." He started. "Where are they?" "At the end of the hall, but sir you have to relinquish your weapons, it's protocol..." I wasn't here to chat. I grabbed him by the collar and used him as a shield against the bullets that started pouring from down the hall. "Mr. Jack," said a voice coming from behind the heavy wooden door, "that was a really stupid thing to do. We had to call the authorities; they should be here any minute now." I threw the cadaver away and jumped behind a corner. "It won't take me that long." I answered grabbing a couple grenades. They rolled into the room and the guns went silent. I ran towards the smoke. Eight thugs were laying in pieces in a large conference room. On the opposite side of the gigantic table occupying the center of the room, three men and two women were looking at me. Despite their very old age, they seemed terrified. I took a second to observe them. "Mr. Jack," the tall blonde woman presiding the council said, "we can perfectly reach an agreement." "No, we can't," I answered. And methodically I took out the head of the so called council of five. 8. Twenty minutes later I was seating in the back of a small black speedboat leaving Cuban territorial waters. I had known that my mistress had been killed the moment I had stepped on the island. The link between us had been broken. In a way, their deaths had made my work a lot easier, I wasn't anymore on a rescue mission, I was here to make a point. The bleached haired girl holding the helm turned around and looked at me. She was wearing her hair in a ponytail. The two bite marks on her neck were nearly gone. She smiled. The loss of my mistress and Mary hadn't affected me as much as I had feared. After all, maybe I wasn't a family man, maybe I was just a killer, a drifter. I smiled back.