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"Don't Miss," He Said Ch. 01

By: Kyoketsu_Shoge



All Characters, places and events are fictional. Author reserves rights to use. This is a preliminary exposition chapter, and, as such, is mostly action, not much XXX. More serious stuff to come, though. No fear. The following chapters are greatly influenced by reader votes and feedback, so please, do just that. Enjoy.

--Kyoketsu Shoge

*************

Before that day, I wasn't sure whether or not I loved her. What matters is that, between the present and that morning, there were events which changed both of us, and our entire class, for better or for worse. I shall attempt to recount the details. They are...not to be missed.

I felt that something bad would happen that day. Maybe that's why I had called my brother for help. I was hoping that I could keep her safe too. Here we are though, two of twenty against the far wall, looking out at the sun-bleached lawns of Creekmount. I am Alphonse, eighteen years of age, and the younger of two men from the family Rosethorne. At the time, I was attending the school for my final year. She...Elena, was also attending for her final year.

*************

Elena was my equal in most everything we had the blessing of sharing. Her one aspect which none could rival was her beauty. Such fragile and demure beauty one could not find in finely crafted porcelain. Her hair, alchemy of gold and sunset, cascaded effortlessly behind her wherever her lithe body would take her, and her eyes scintillated like emeralds encased in glass. Until that fateful day, I did not fully notice her beauty. Perhaps none of us did. The men did, though. That was why they kept her for...I digress. Grant me a few moments more for exposition.

Creekmount's uniform was becoming of Elena (as it seemed for all the girls), but her personality seemed an ill fit. This was the shield with which she defended herself; not arrogance, but something more humble. Elena carried knowledge of books and lore. What she lacked in life-experience, she could recite from memory. The day I saw her fully, her knowledge could not defend her. That is why I helped her—why I continue to help her.

*************

The day before the...incident, we were in physical education. I was watching the ongoing basketball exercises. Elena and another girl, Catherine (who would also endure the incident) were competing on free throws.

"You're doing well today, Elena," Catherine commented, upon finishing her fifth consecutive throw.

"I can hold my own in this sort of thing...There. One more and I've got you beat," Elena responded in her charming, cheery, pseudo-soprano.

"It would be a first," scoffed Catherine.

Be assured, dearest readers, that your humble narrator (at the behest of his male instincts) was only slightly aware of how important it was that Elena make this next basket. At the time, I was more concerned with how lovely Elena's shapely butt looked in the Phys-Ed shorts. I wanted to encourage her, let her know that I had faith in her. Instead, I reverted to my usual mode of talking to her: awkward humor.

"Elena," I called to her, "If you don't make this next basket, I'll be forced to beat you in the German test tomorrow."

She looked at me quizzically, and responded, "What?"

"Don't miss, I said."

"I'll do my best," she called back, flashing a cheesy thumbs-up sign.

I watched as Elena stepped up to the line. She readied herself, and turned slightly, giving me a happy yet determined smile. She shot the ball.

The three of us watched, as the ball went through the basket, and beyond the fence, the tallest of the men chuckled, as he and the rest observed the prospective targets.

"Heh, so she made it. She looks to be the best I've seen."

"But then, there's not a bad looking one in the whole class."

"This is the senior class-B, right?"

"Yeah, that's how it looks. And, if they move as one unit, the so-called German class might be the best time to do it. This is our chance. Let's not miss it."

And the four men grinned at once. They knew when they would strike. But then, they had already gotten their supplies ready weeks ago. Masks, ropes, guns--Dog Day Afternoon in a bag, really. I just wish that they had been after our money.

*************

The morning was chilly. I wore the uniform coat that day, as did Elena. I hated how it hid her body, but it was how I started a conversation that morning. I inquired what the fabric that made up the liner was, and Elena stifled her cute laugh with her slender fingers.

"That's easy, silly. It's on the tag."

Elena walked in front of me and slipped her hands behind my neck to lift the collar. The chill which rode upon her fingers sent shivers throughout my body, but their feather-light softness warmed my soul. As she reached the tag under the collar, she read off, "liner: 70% cotton, 30% poly..."

She stopped short of polyester when she saw my eyes. I had been watching her as she read, and as our eyes met, a long second froze us colder than the air around us. As the bells from the school began to toll, we stepped apart. Elena and I shivered once more, as the spaces where we had touched became cold again.

"Five minutes before morning announcements. We should hurry," Elena said, shakily, breaking the silence.

"Oh, right. Let's double-time it, eh?"

"What?"

"Double-time, it's the military term for...uh, jogging. My brother taught me how."

"Alright then, let's go."

"Right, keep in step with me then."

*************

So, here we sit, up against the wall. Elena and I are separated by little more than a freshly dead body. The four men have already killed six of our class, including the teacher. Two of the men are keeping watch over us, the hostages. The other two are across the room, near the window--with Catherine.

One man holds a gun to Catherine's head, and the other...is forcing himself on her. The bearded man slams into her again and again. Her screams of pain fill the room, but the bearded one couldn't care less. The screams spur him onto his second orgasm.

Before he deposits his third load, Catherine's screams have stopped. The man with the gun put her life to an unceremonious end. This makes seven dead.

The tall one zeroes in on Elena, and my heart begins to race. I hated the men for killing the seven they had, but I think I would rather die than see them violate her. The tall one lifts Elena by her collar, and removes her winter coat.

"Please, you can't do this," Elena begins to plead, the tears for her fallen classmates renewed for her own mortality.

"Now what makes you think that we can't? Didn't we just get done with seven other broads?"

Elena stays quiet, save for her tears and whimpers. I refuse to.

"Listen to her, don't do it," I say with as much authority as I can muster, attempting to stand.

"Shut the hell up, kid," he remarks as he kicks me back off my feet, and continues to disrobe Elena. "Then again, maybe I won't," he says slyly, as he pauses just short of removing her blouse. 

"Whaddaya mean, boss," Asked the bearded one after putting Catherine with the other dead. "Wasn't she the one that decided it, that we'd do this class, I mean?"

"Shut up, you mook. I know that. I just thought that mister brave here might like it better," the tall one said, draping Elena face-down on a desk. "What's your name, punk?"

My bravery building, I responded, "This one is Creekmount High School Student 623236; Senior Class Treasurer. And who are you?"

"Arrogant punk...I said your name, none of this title shit!"

"It's customary to give one's name before asking another's."

"You can just call me Matthew for now," he said. "This one's Mark, and that one's Luke, and he's John."

The man with the beard, the one they called Mark piped in, "They're not our real names you see. They're the names of--"

"It doesn't matter what the names are. Jesus, it's like dealing with fucking kids."

Elena and I couldn't help but laugh as our captors continued to argue. Matthew finally noticed us and remembered his previous thought.

"Enough," Matthew said, ending the quarrel. "You," he said, pointing a handgun at Elena's temple. "What is Mr. Arrogance's name?"

"Al-Alphonse," she said, going limp with fear.

"You two know each other?"

"He's a good friend of mine, and--"

"That's enough. John, get her ready; over there by the windows. Go," ordered Matthew, as his cohort wrestled Elena over another desk at the far window. Matthew then knelt down close to me, and motioned me close. As leaned towards him, I was immediately stricken with his foul scent.

"So you two are friends, yeah?"

"Good friends, yes."

Matthew cast an offhand glance towards Elena. "Not too bad looking' either, eh? Don't think I didn't see you looking yesterday with the basketball, and the jumping, and the shorts."

I knew what the man meant. Elena was, to me, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I doubted I would ever find another girl as witty or ravishing as her. After that morning's tag incident, I had it in my mind that I should try dating her.

"Yes, she's...an amazing girl. I've grown much attached, I'd say."

"How 'bout you say that a little louder, so she can hear it. John, turn her over here."

I was embarrassed to even spill my emotions to this criminal, and practically turned white in the face once Elena turned to face me. The one whom they called John had draped her torso over a desk facing me, her hands behind her back. Her breath was heavy, and her eyes seemed distant. In this position, she seemed so fragile. This was the essence which Elena's wit and knowledge did enshroud. This was the true Elena Wallcroft.

Eventually, after seeing her so vulnerable, I spoke, saying, "You're an amazing girl. I've grown much attached to you, Elena."

Elena's eyes sparked from within, shining right towards me, their emerald hue refracting without tears. I could tell she knew my true feelings. Our eyes locked for the second time that day, and for a moment, I forgave my captors; they made this beautiful moment possible.

"Bet you'd like to fuck her eh?"

I fell from grace. Our eyes displayed twin expressions of shock and panic. I tried to rally my bravery yet again. "Why me? Why Elena," I asked.

"Well, John's al tuckered from his last one, Mark and Luke are keeping watch, and I'm the guy asking you if you want to stick in that hot piece of ass on the desk over there."

The beautiful moment was tarnished. What must Elena have been thinking? That I'm a filthy pervert who'd profess false love to a girl and then screw her to please a bunch of criminals? That I would enjoy every second of it? That I...had planned this?

No! Not this, not to the woman I love. I could never defile her in such a way. At that moment, our eyes locked for the third time, with looks of dread and uncertainty. Seeing her like this, I couldn't let it happen. My expression changed; determined and strong.

I stood from the wall, and faced the one they called Matthew. "I wouldn't hurt her in such a way. I couldn't betray the friendship, the bond we share."

"Well," Matthew responded, "How about you get over here and give us a good show, or Elena here starts losing skin." He walked over to Elena and removed what was left of her blouse. He pulled out a large knife and slit the front of her bra, setting her breasts into vision. "Maybe we'll start here," Matthew remarked.

I started to walk towards him, telling him, "Leave her alone. You won't lay another finger on her, or any of our classmates. You people are the lowest of the low, knowing we won't resist lest you kill one of our friends. Our classmates, you killed them with our love!"

Elena looked up. "Alphonse," she said weakly, before turning her gaze away.

"Shut up and screw the broad, kid," said the one called Mark, from across the room.

"I'm not a kid. You think that I'll let my hormones cloud my judgment, making a decision that I could never live with? I'd rather die than live with myself, knowing how much I hurt Elena."

"Well then," said Matthew, "maybe we can arrange that. If you really don't want the girl, maybe we can trade. The girl, Elena, goes free, right after you die."

And readers, know that in that instant, your dearest narrator did falter for a moment. He saw Elena as an object of his lust, for her breasts were full and raised, her whole half-naked body was quivering with fear and cold. He looked upon her as would an animal. But, reason won out.

"Brother, I hope this...is what you were waiting for. It's a shaky conclusion either way," I said to no one in particular.

"So you choose death," Matthew quizzed, "Alright: John, Give the girl her clothes. She can leave once this punk's on the floor. I'll put this fucker's brains on the windows."

I walked calmly past Elena, past Matthew, and towards the windows, and looked across the vast lawns that surrounded the school. They were poorly tended, and the forest border, three-hundred odd yards away, seemed to grow closer every day. The lawns were bleached and barren, and the forest was dark and foreboding.

I turned to the left, and came face to face with the tall Matthew's gun barrel. "Know what this sucker is, kid," he asked, getting in m personal space.

"What you hold is a chrome-plated double-action .357 magnum revolver. Effective at--"

"Good enough." He stuck the barrel, cold at first, under my chin. "Now, listen up. After you're dead, I'm going to have the girl myself. In fact, we'll all have her. I just wanted you to know, lest you go dying with a sense of accomplishment."

I tried to come up with some wit, but found none. These were my last breaths. I turned and saw Elena, and gave her what smile I could muster. This time, I avoided. Humor: "Thank you, my classmates. Elena...Goodbye, Elena. And you, Matthew..."

"Get on with it," Matthew said.

"Don't miss."

I closed my eyes. My classmates watched. Our captors watched. Elena looked away. John made her watch. Matthew smirked. The window shimmered. The wind stopped. The grass on the lawn went still. The forest went still.

The forest moved. The window shattered.

Blood, brain matter, skull fragments; everything flowed from the head. But it was not my head. Everything stood still, shocked, and I opened my eyes. I began counting. One. Two.

"Alphonse," Elena said, trying to stand. Three.

Four. I saw the relief, the love in her eyes. Five. I yelled to her and the students, "On the ground!"

The forest moved twice more. As we fell to the ground, Mark and Luke joined Matthew on the floor. John ran to the windows, trying to see the shooters.

I walked over to Elena, my coat in hand, draping it over her shocked, shivering, half-naked form, and told John, "good luck seeing anybody. If they're doing their jobs..."

John fell. Pulled out the window, and replaced by a more welcome form. A man entered the room from the shattered window, dressed in dark brown, undergrowth decking his head and back.

As I pulled Elena to her feet, she noticed the ghillie-suited man. "You're a..."

I finished her sentence, as the man removed his grass hood, "a sniper." Three more nature-clad forms entered from the window as I continued. "This is fire-team Able of Charlie Company. Special designation: Tactical Operations and Sharpshooting."

Our classmates gradually stood up as I went down the line of four, introducing them to their saviors. "This is Sergeant Gibalev, medic. This is Private First Class Manstir, tactical maneuvers. Here we have Corporal Peterson, linguistics and intelligence. And last, but not least, this is Staff Sergeant Rosethorne, sniper.

Elena looked confused, and I waited for her to connect the dots in her mind. She finally spoke, "Rose...thorne?"

I responded, introducing again, the last of the four. "Elena Wallcroft, this is my brother, Albrecht Rosethorne, the Swift Thunder."

"I think I need to sit down for a moment," Elena said, slumping to the floor.

"You had me sweating bullets back there, Albrecht," I remarked. "It took you long enough to line it up though. Catherine might still be alive..."

"The angles were off. Fucking wind on the lawn. You're lucky we came at all."

"Everybody gets one, that's Able's thing, right?

"Hmm," he said, running his hand through the close trimmed hair, stained with the mud of an hour's wait.

I went to Elena, who still looked dazed and confused. Gibalev made his rounds, but Elena and I walked from the room. We left through the doors and out to the lawns. She walked beside me, as we had that morning. My winter coat surrounded her, and she clung to it, it being the only warmth she had.

"Alphonse," she said, pausing in her stride.

"Yes, Elena?"

"About before, you wanted to die. You said that you would rather have died than to hurt me...To do those things to me."

"Yes, and I meant what I said."

Elena's eyes began to birth tears as she cast her gaze downwards. "Did you...did you only say that because..."

"Because why?"

"Did you only say that...Because you knew your brother would save us?"

I thought for a long moment. It had always been my intention that my brother would save us. I responded, "At that point, after watching the teacher, Catherine, everyone die, I had already given up hope of rescue. I thought that...That the least I could do was to save the life of someone I care about."

Elena met my longing gaze.

"The life...of the one I love."

Elena and I walked towards one another, and met in an embrace. We warmed each other in the close grasp, and with awkward advances, we managed a light kiss. Feather-light touches that surpassed her fingers were begotten from her lips. Such a simple gesture sealed our fate.

*************

My whole life, I had been living in my older brother's shadow. With him in the military, he was the model person who I never dreamed I would become. I was twelve when he first joined Able Company. He told me that if I ever was in fear of my life, I could signal him, and he would do his best to help me. I didn't know it, but this was a gesture that our parents, God rest their souls, made him give me. 

At that moment, standing there on the lawns of Creekmount in the winter's midday chill, I finally felt that I had out-stepped my brother's shadow. Nothing else mattered as I stood there holding Elena close, trying to calm her shivers of cold. I felt the warmth of the sun finally come through the clouds, and it was as if this perfection was the work of a one of God's angels, firing an arrow of love which penetrated both Elena and I; as though he had received his orders directly from God himself, and the orders simply said, "don't miss."

"Don't Miss," He Said Ch. 02



This is the second chapter of the romance and intrigue that is "Don't Miss," he said. Check back for more chapters, and please vote and comment. Any and all constructive criticisms are welcome. So, once again, I'll turn it over to your humble narrator, Alphonse. Take it away...Al.

*************

I wish that I could tell you that we regained normalcy at Creekmount after that day, after the senseless killing. I wish I could tell you that our classmates were alive, and that I woke up in a cold sweat, finding the whole matter to have been a nightmare.

A deeper pang still, is that, if it were a dream, I would have to cope with the catharsis of having the dead back...but losing Elena.

Elena and I stood together on yet another chilly winter morning, the second of February. It was a day I still remember; because it was the day they buried Catherine. The remaining classmates were in attendance, as well as Catherine's family, Elena and I, and my brother. As the priest said the final rites, I watched my brother walk away solemnly. He crested a hill about fifty yards out, and, as we all bowed our heads in reverence, I heard the dismal dirge of amazing grace, drifting down from my brother's trumpet.

He muted the trumpet's bell, stifling the tune from full resonance. It was the first time I let myself cry in front of Elena. The acolytes closed the casket, and Elena began to tear up as well. No longer able to see our dear friend, Elena felt her last connection to Catherine break apart.

As I stood beside Elena, she reached out for me. I held her tightly, surprised at how much she was shaking as she sobbed into my coat. I wanted to say something, to tell her that everything would be alright. But, in that moment, I heard my brother let the last note linger. He held it as long as he could, but I could tell by the wavering in his note, that he too was crying.

While to this day he never admits it, and I only heard it, I'm sure that my brother wept that day. Catherine had only met him once, when he was visiting me, but the way her face lit up whenever he smiled at her was about as happy as she ever let us see her. I wish that on that baleful day at Creekmount, my brother would have been in time to save everyone, especially Catherine, because I knew that she loved him.

Elena tightened her grip on me, and I realized that she had stopped crying. She pressed her body closer, and I was reminded of how lucky I was that I didn't have to attend the funerals of two of my friends; how lucky I was that this beautiful girl could still love me after the shock and awe of that day.

"I keep thinking it's a bad dream," Elena said as we walked away from the concluded service. "I keep thinking that I'll just wake up, and the teacher would scold me for sleeping in class."

"And Catherine would laugh at you, and the teacher would glare at her," I added, replaying a regular occurrence which used to be in German class.

Elena continued, "Then I'd look over at you, and...and you'd smile, and I'd feel fine, because I would know that I was with my friends."

"Elena..."

"I'm just so scared. I feel as though, if I were to let my guard down, they could come back. And, even though I know your brother took care of them, it's as if they're still after me," Elena said, shivering as though from an unfelt breeze.

"My brother..." I looked at the knoll where Albrecht had played the somber tune, but he was nowhere to be seen. "If I were strong...like Albrecht, maybe we wouldn't be here now."

"Alphonse, you are str--"

"No, Elena, I'm not. I'm so weak that I...I couldn't even save one life, when those men held us captive. I just sat against the wall, waiting for my big brother, like the scared little kid that I am."

I had stopped where I stood, not wanting to face Elena while I spoke to her. I stared at the grass, and it was pale; dying in winter's cold grasp.

"That's not true," Elena said. "You're not a kid. None of us are, after...after what we saw. And, you did save a life. You...you saved me."

I opened my eyes, to see Elena crouching, looking up at me, tears accenting her eyes.

"Und für das stehe ich immer in Ihrer Schuld," she said in her impeccable German, telling me that she was forever in my debt.

After a long sigh, I kneeled to join her, and responded, "Es ist so schön wann du sprechst Deutsch, Elena," complimenting her on how beautiful she sounded. We both rose, and I held her again. "However, you owe me no debt."

"Then...it's over? We just go on living?"

I motioned for us to continue walking back to my car. "I know how you feel. I feel bad about closing the book on this. But, we have to move on. The men are gone, and we have to forget about them."

"I don't think I could ever forget about those men."

"It will be difficult, but...there's no other way to live. Keep thinking about this, and it's going to eat away at you from the inside. It will haunt you. Forget about them; move on, and you can keep the hope alight in your heart."

"When did you get poetic about death?"

I didn't respond. To talk about their death...My parent's death...would be to reopen a book which I had long ago locked up.

We neared my car, and I opened Elena's door for her before getting in myself. After we started up and pulled out of the cemetery, I asked Elena where she needed to go.

"I guess I should head back home. My folks should be getting home about now," she said.

We drove in relative silence, as Elena read the funeral program over and over, as though trying to relive the last precious moments she spent near Catherine. I glanced at the program, and remembered the eulogy the priest had given.

*************

I had always thought it odd that one who had probably met the deceased should give the eulogy. If I had given it, though, I would have been too cynical. I was eight when it happened.

I opened the thick oak front door, heavy for me at that age, and stepped inside, then dropped my schoolbag and headed for the kitchen. Usually, my father was sitting at the table reading the paper, and my mother would be washing dishes or some other mundane chore. Now that I reminisce about them, there was something pleasantly 1950's about this routine. I sat down at the table, and sensed something was off. Usually my mother would have a drink for me on the table (some cold juice in the summer, or some hot cocoa in the winter), but that day, my glass was empty. There was still some at the bottom of the glass.

Where were my parents? I looked back into the bedroom hall, and saw their door slightly open. I thought it would be clever to try to sneak up on them, so I removed my shoes, and padded down the hallway. I looked up at the walls, and it looked like someone had drawn on the one wall.

I thought back to when I had done that once. This drawing looked similar. I had taken my mother's nail polish bottle and splashed it on the wall. Boy did I get it for that one. I hoped that whoever had done it this time was being punished for it too.

Why didn't I realize what it was on the walls?

I continued down to my parent's room, and found that all the shelves and cabinets and drawers were a total mess. I thought that they must have been in a hurry to find something. Maybe my father had misplaced one of his ties again. He really liked wearing ties, and I had even offered him my school uniform tie, when he once lost his favorite tie. He laughed at my cute gesture.

I still won't forgive myself for not realizing what had happened when I saw the state of their room.

Their bathroom light was on, so I went up close to it. I knocked, as they had reminded me constant times to do. No answer. I opened the door, and found my parents...asleep?...on the floor.

Why didn't I call the police?

I looked up at the mirrored door to the bathtub, and saw that the 'nail polish' had gone there too. Except this time, it was words.

NEXT TIME. YOU TOO.

Then I tried to rouse my parents from their slumber. No luck. I panicked. Why wouldn't they wake up? I shook my mother, and tried to roll her over. Eventually I got her over, and saw that she had, what at that age I could only describe as, a big boo-boo on her neck.

Someone slit her throat. Stupid kid, why didn't you call for help?

*************

Eventually, I got my neighbors to help me. The truth still didn't sink in till the police tape went down. My parents were murdered by a serial killer. The police said that this case fit the killer's profile; a killer who called himself Judas.

To this day, I follow news on the killer, hoping that someday they'll catch him.

*************

"Alphonse, you missed it!" Elena exclaimed, tugging my arm and my thoughts back to the road. I had missed the exit to her house. Damn you, highway hypnosis.

"I'm sorry, Elena. I was...thinking."

"It's ok. We can U-Turn here. Just one thing Alphonse:"

"What's that?"

"Don't miss."

"Only slightly funny, Elena."

She laughed then. It was the first time she had laughed in weeks. It was infectious, and I laughed along with her. It was odd, laughing about something connected to that day. Maybe we really could get past this.

Our giggles were on and off until we reached Elena's house, both of us seeing who could say 'don't miss,' with a more badass inflection. As I drove us down Elena's driveway, our laughs turned to sighs. "Back to reality I guess," Elena said, sinking back in her seat.

I turned to follow the driveway as it made a turnabout in front of her house.

"Elena," I began, as I shifted into park, "would you mind if I came in for a little bit? Just to sit and talk?" I had low hopes of doing anything romantic with Elena so close to the funeral, but I figured it was worth a try, what with the recent light mood.

"Would you please," she responded, with a strange mix of worry and confusion on her face.

"What's wrong, Elena?"

I followed her glance to the front door of the house.

"That door isn't meant to be open. Come with me?" Indeed, the door was half-open. I set the emergency brake, and walked with Elena to the door. She pushed the door open, and kicked some of the leaves that had blown in back out. "Could you close the door," she asked me, hanging up her scarf.

I pushed the door closed. The wind made it feel...heavy. We walked up a staircase, and I peered inside an ornate frame at a young Elena. She looked to be about sixteen in the picture, and was wearing her school uniforms.

"And here I thought it was impossible to look good in a school picture," I called to Elena, who had turned the corner into the hallway. "You look nice in this one, Elena."

"Elena?"

Thump. It came from the hallway, and I bum-rushed the stairs and turned the corner to find Elena in a crumple on the floor. I approached her, and she looked unconscious. I gathered her up in my arms, trying to wake her. 'Elena, have you not been eating? It can cause you to pass out, you know," I lectured her, as she came to.

I expected her to regain some color in her face, but she remained pale.

"Let's get some food in you."

She merely nodded her head, and walked towards the kitchen, as though in a trance.

I lingered at the staircase again, looking into the past as I saw the other pictures of Elena. I looked down at the entrance to the kitchen, and figured she had already entered. When I reached the kitchen, Elena was already sitting at the table, staring blankly at a half-eaten muffin.

"Wow, you must have been hungry, eh?"

She shook her head.

"What? That's not yours?"

She shook her head. I shook my head in disbelief, backing up with the wall catching me. "No."

Elena looked at me. "Alphonse," she said, letting her eyes look upwards, as though upstairs.

Again, in disbelief, I mounted the stairs. I turned the corner into the hallway, and looked to my right. I t looked like Elena's bedroom. "Clear," I told myself.

"No, no, no, no, no." I turned to the left wall, and saw a splash. This time, I knew it wasn't nail polish. 

"Not again, no." I bolted down the hall to the end, finding a disheveled room. This time, there was no bathroom. This time, they were on the floor, there among the discarded items from the drawers, and cabinets, and shelves.

I fell to my knees. I looked at the two figures, lying together; slashes to the throat. Then I looked past them, and beheld the writing on the wall.

NEXT TIME. YOU TOO.

"Judas."

*************

"I'm sorry, Elena." It was the only thing I could think to say to her. 

"You didn't know this would happen. You're not at fault, so don't apologize."

I hated seeing her like this. She wasn't sad, but she wasn't happy. She was just like this on the day of her parent's funeral. I asked her why she didn't cry, and she simply responded that she spent all her tears on Catherine.

I try not to cry at funerals. After my parents were buried, I promised my brother that I would be strong; strong like Albrecht. Albi, I called him back then. He hated that.

*************

I drove Elena home after yet another day of school at Creekmount. 

"Alphonse," Elena said, as she watched the scenery go by.

I responded, looking away from the road only long enough to make eye contact with her. "Yes, Elena?"

"Do you think...that ghosts exist?"

I looked past the road, past everything, and thought for a moment of how best to answer. "Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't," I finally said.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, sometimes I can feel my parents still watching over me and protecting me. And, sometimes I can feel them haunting me about not finding their killer. In the former instance, I like to think that it's their ghosts that are with me. The latter...well, I chalk that up to my own guilt."

"I think I must be the opposite. I feel the ghosts of those four men; usually in my dreams. They're horrible, horrible dreams. That's why..."

"Go on."

"That's why I was wondering if I could stay with you for a little while?"

I hesitated. She must have sensed my hesitation.

"I promise I won't be a bother. I can even help out with chores, if they need doing."

All of a sudden, my instinct took over. Instinct said, "self, here is a beautiful girl, she's of age, her ass is so high and tight that it makes marine's heads look scruffy, and those little tits of hers seem to defy gravity. Not to mention, she's looking for someone to latch onto. Vulnerable is what she is. Now is the time to strike!"

"Shut up a second," I said to my instinct.

"Excuse me," Elena said, quizzically.

"I'm sorry, not you, Elena."

I thought further. This would be the gentlemanly thing to do for her. She is seeking a strong hand to grasp hers and lead her through. Why not?

"Thank you, Alphonse. I don't think I could handle being alone in that house again."

"It's no trouble, Elena. Anything I can do to help you during this time, let it be done."

"So, when can you come over? Tonight, maybe?"

I closed my eyes, and thought. I sighed, and ran my hand through my hair. "I don't think I could do that. No, it just wouldn't work."

Elena looked downtrodden at my comment.

"No, I think you're just going to have to move in with me."

Elena's eyes lit up when I gave the suggestion. "Really!?" She suddenly realized how happy she sounded, and in an effort to seem less eager, "I mean, is that okay?"

"It's fine by me. I dislike eating alone, and Himeko doesn't count in that respect."

"Hime...ko? Who's that?"

"Oh, you'll find out. I'm sure she won't mind."

*************

Elena stared wide-eyed at the house that came into view. "This is where you live?"

"I know. It's too big for me." In reality, I didn't like the house being so big. If I was older, I would separate the house into two, and rent the other half out, but Himeko never approved of that idea.

We stepped out of the car, and I walked up to the front door, Elena lagging behind. I swung the door open easily, and held it as Elena entered.

We discarded our schoolbags by the door, and walked inside to the living room to sit down. "Would you care for something to drink, Elena?"

"Some water would be lovely, thank you."

I nodded, and called into the next room, "one more, then, Hime."

"One moment," said a voice from the next room. Elena leaned from where she sat, trying to see where the voice came from, but saw only a stocking-clad leg disappear behind an ornate wooden hutch on which sat various silver containers.

"This house is so lovely. I'm still in a dream."

"Snake eater."

"Beg your pardon?"

"...by Cynthia Harrell. It's a song of hers." I began to sing the refrain, not very well, "'I'd give my life, not for honor, but for you. In my time, there'll be no one else. Crime, it's the way I fly to you. I'm still in a dream, snake eater.'"

"You're not a bad singer. It's a bit...A bit of an innuendo though, isn't it?"

"Eh?"

"Singing a love song, the person you love being called 'snake eater'?"

"Not when it's a woman singing it, it's not," said the unfamiliar voice, entering the room.

Himeko stepped lightly to the center of the room, tray holding two glasses of water. I could tell Elena was surprised. Himeko was about an inch shorter than me, with skin pale as a sheet, and straight auburn hair which fell neatly to the small of her back.

"Cynthia Harrell's an octave above little Al."

"Himeko, please do not refer to me in such a way in front of company."

Elena giggled; stifling her laugh in what became a girlishly cute gesture. I made the introduction, explaining to Elena that Himeko's service was part of what my parents had left to me upon their deaths. Elena thought with a cliché finger to her chin. "Okay then, two questions left unanswered."

"Fire away," Himeko said, taking a seat beside Elena on the sofa. I watched from an armchair and was amused how similar their posture was. Straight back, legs closed demurely, hands folded in lap...yes, the signs were all here. Elena would fit right in.

"Why are you wearing a French maid's outfit? It seems a little...cliché. Not to mention risqué."

Even I took notice. Himeko's normally boring skirt and blouse was replaced by a more...lacy affair. A black blouse and skirt were contained in a white lace apron piece, which seemed to stop under her breasts, lifting and compressing them. The skirt came down to mid-calf, but what I could see of her legs seemed very alluring.

I spoke up, "yeah, why the sudden wardrobe-change? Did you know we were having guests?"

Elena looked confused. "You mean, she doesn't normally dress this way," she asked both of us.

"She's only done this once before. It was New Year's Eve, and I still think she was trying to impress my brother," I said, laughing as Himeko blushed at the last comment.

Awkward Silence.

"Moving right along," Elena said, breaking the silence, "second question: why is your name Himeko? Not to offend, but..."

"Don't even try," I interjected, "I've wanted to know ever since I was eight, and she won't tell. She says it's her real name, but I don't know."

"In answer to your question, I get asked about my name all the time," said Himeko, ignoring my criticism. "Ever since I can remember, my name's been Himeko. It's not the typical white-gal name, but I like it."

Elena asked, "what does it mean?"

"Princess Child," Himeko responded.

"Enough small talk," I said, "Elena, you'll need your things, correct?"

"Oh my, I forgot. I don't have my toiletries, or...or clothes, or...I'll have to go and get everything," Elena said, beginning to panic.

"Relax." I started writing on a pad of paper that sat on the table. "Himeko, this is Elena's address. Please go and retrieve her toiletries and other unmentionables she will require for her stay with us."

"For how long will that be...sir," Himeko asked, standing and trying to regain her professional composure.




"Don't Miss," He Said Ch. 02



"A one-week stay. We can wash in the same schedule. Here are the keys," I said, holding the keys out. Himeko went to take them from me, but I raised my arm, halting her grasp. "And this time, make it quick and clean. No stops, no exploring, get in, get out. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," she responded, a hint of sadness in her voice.

"Alright then, Hime-chan," I said, dropping the keys into her hand, "go get them terrorists."

Himeko hurried out of the house. I heard the car pull out of the driveway, and turned to Elena. I asked her, "Elena, how are you feeling?"

"I feel fine, I suppose, thanks for the water. Why did you send her out so soon? We could have done that later."

"That was to get rid of Himeko. Come on, let me show you around."

I took her hand to help her up, and led her out of the living room, past the container-covered hutch, which Elena determined to be tea-making implements. We walked through another doorway, and stood in the kitchen.

"Wow, this is a nice kitchen," Elena said, running her hand across the marble countertop. "Do you cook much?"

"Indeed. However, it's usually breakfast. Himeko sleeps until eight, so I make breakfast before school. Hime makes dinner, except for the one day."

"Which day is that?"

"Why, her birthday, of course."

"That's sweet of you. And what does the gentleman cook for his lovely maid on that day?"

"Well, last year it was Lobster Thermidor. Two lobsters, butter, mushrooms, scalded cream, egg yolks, some paprika and pepper."

"That sounds heavenly."

I laughed, remembering the sheer disgust on Himeko's face when she tried my bastardization of the French gourmet dish. "It would have been, but I'm a horrible cook at anything other than bacon and eggs."

We proceeded out of the kitchen, and, having already seen the living room, I led Elena up the staircase leading to the bedrooms. We passed a bathroom, which I pointed out, connected two rooms together. I stepped into one of the adjacent bedrooms with Elena in tow.

"This is where you'll be sleeping...Assuming you still want to stay."

Elena looked around the room, from the large window facing the back acres, to the four-poster bed jutting from the west wall. Eventually she spoke, "it looks like...one could wake up and see the sunrise just over one's feet."

"That's the hope, yes. But I think you'd better rephrase that," I told her, walking up behind her and holding her at arm's length. "You can watch the sunrise, over your feet. This room is yours for as long as you want."

"You've been so kind to me Alphonse. I can't think of any other place I'd like to be then right here, with you. I finally feel...safe."

I pulled her closer into me, and held her, softly stroking the back of her hair; drawing my fingers through the soft cascade. "I'm glad I can help you feel this way. If it can help put that smile back on your face for good, then it's my most important task."

"Thank you," she giggled as she had before, "little Al."

I lifted her chin from where it had rested at my chest, saying, "I think I can forgive that one, but it's a good thing you're so damn cute, or else..."

She laughed in earnest. "I don't know how I could ever repay you. I'm already in your debt for my life, but now room and board?"

"Well, I can think of one way," I said, and only after leaning down and kissing Elena fully did I realize how cliché my words were. Our lips met, and Elena's were the first to part, open but not aggressive. I let my tongue pass my lips, and soon we were feverishly exchanging tongues, minds ablaze with the pleasure we never knew could come from a kiss.

I sat on the edge of the bed, and Elena was quick to follow, as though our joined breath was our only source of air. Elena nestled herself closer against me, and I felt her soft bosom caress my chest, sending a wave of warmth emanating from the contact point. I wrapped my arm around her back, my hand on her taught stomach, reminding me that this was indeed the beautiful, fragile Elena with whom I had fallen madly in love.

Pressing my luck, I raised my hand ever so slightly, stroking softly her stomach and sides. I felt the palm of my hand reach the bottom of her breasts, and rubbed lightly. Elena moaned into my mouth from the contact, but made no attempt to pull away.

I heard a slight rustle and saw movement in my peripherals. I reluctantly let the kiss end, and stood up. I had a good feeling who it might be. "You bastard. The jig is up; show yourself."

"Damn, either you're getting good at spotting me, or I'm getting lazy," I heard a voice say from somewhere in the room. Albrecht emerged from a wall closet, wearing an ACU camouflage uniform.

"How...how long have you been in here," asked Elena in disbelief, turning away, and then realizing she was not indecent.

"Since 'I don't know how I could ever repay you'," my brother responded smugly. "That was a pretty hot show you put on there, bro – if they processed it, I could heat my house with it."

"Hey, you in the ACU's, the one who's spying on his little brother: fuck you."

"Hey, you on the bed, the one who stopped making out with his girlfriend to talk to his brother: fuck you!"

"Fuck both of you," another voice said from out in the hallway. Himeko stood in the doorway before entering, correcting them, "don't you know it's impolite to swear in mixed company? And Albrecht, officers don't swear."

Albrecht just looked generally grumpy, having been corrected by a civilian, worse yet a girl. "Yeah, well I ain't an officer. Take an eye to the chevrons."

While Albrecht and Himeko argued over rank, Elena and I stood dumbfounded. "Did she just say the F-word," I asked Elena.

"She doesn't normally do that?"

"She's only done it that one other time."

"New Year's Eve, right," Elena asked.

"How'd you know," I quizzed.

"I figured your brother must be the common element here. The maid outfit, the swearing...I think you're right about her. She definitely likes him," Elena responded. "I think I'll break it up."

Elena strolled over merrily over to where the soldier and maid were arguing, and caught Albrecht in mid-sentence.

"...at least once per day. More if they're practicing or there's a football game," Albrecht said.

Himeko looked puzzled. "I still don't see why their motto is 'click click click...misfire, misfire,'" she eventually responded, still confused.

Though Elena had no idea what they were talking about, she politely interrupted, asking, "Himeko, did you manage to find my things at the house?"

"Things? Oh yes! Yes I did. Right this way, and we can organize them and figure out where to store everything."

Himeko led Elena out and down the hallway. I turned to my brother. He still seemed grumpy from his argument with Himeko. "The girl wouldn't know a howitzer if you stuck it up her cunt," he said, in reference to Himeko's lack of military bearing.

I laughed at the graphic image my mind created. Himeko stood at the counter, preparing dinner, six feet off the floor, the artillery piece's barrel disappearing under her skirt. "Oh, she'd know about it...However briefly, that is," I managed between chuckles.

"So," my brother began, leaning against the windowsill, "why's the girl staying with you?"

"Elena? She's afraid to stay in her house alone. Albrecht, it was her parents...It looked like..." I let my voice trail off, not able to will the word past my mouth.

"Judas," my brother sighed. "I know the story. The police report though...more red flags than Rhinos playing soccer." He paused, as though remembering something. "On a lighter note though, how good is Himeko's cooking? I know she can cook for two."

"As far as taste goes, she's better than SoDexHo, if that's what you mean. I think she can handle cooking for three."

Albrecht laughed. "Three? Think she could handle seven?"

"Seven? Oh no...Albrecht...You didn't."

Albrecht reached inside his pocket, and retrieved a shiny whistle. He blew once, loudly, and assumed a more commanding posture.

"Fall in," he called out.

"Oh, God no."

I heard a rustle from the same closet from which Albrecht had been hiding. The door flew open with a bang. From an upper shelf tumbled the bodies of the rest of Able Squad. After a short respite of lying in a heap, Gibalev, Manstir and Peterson lined up in front of my brother at a stiff attention. 

"Parade," Albrecht said, pausing for but a second, "rest!"

The men staggered their feet and assumed the more relaxed posture, eyes dead ahead. I edged nervously out of Gibalev's gaze, trying to avoid making eye contact. Albrecht addressed them, saying "men, this is House Rosethorne. These premises will be our temporary base, whilst Peterson recovers from his unfortunate...uh...Head and Groundhog-Hole injury.

Peterson rubbed the side of his head. "I thought it would fit," he said, woefully.

"And I tried to convince you," Albrecht continued, "that there was no tactical advantage to putting your head in a groundhog-hole. Moving along...Manstir, I want you to do a perimeter check, and for God's sake, Gibalev, stop raising that eyebrow at me.

Gibalev locked his gaze again. Albrecht continued, "finally, if things get bad, and with two women around thy might, if things get bad, and we're forced to retreat, this room here is the Alamo. Last one alive blows the bomb. That'll destroy us and our enemy along with any evidence. Then it's an easy one-sheet cleanup. Questions?" Nothing. "Good. One more thing. If I am gone, this man," Albrecht said, as he pushed the whistle against my chest, which I took, "is your commanding officer. Fall out to your assigned tasks.

*************

Sitting there in the house, surrounded by my friends, and Elena, I couldn't have been happier. I looked over at Elena, and she smiled back in earnest. Now that we were together, now that we were all gathered, our lives could begin anew. I told myself there that I would stick by Elena no matter what. Death, terror, and further hardships can be overcome, as long as one has something to fight for. And for me, that something is Elena. 

*************

------Well, Alphonse and Elena are all settled in it seems. But, how long will normalcy last? Can they cope with Alphonse's maid, and Albrecht's coworkers, while still finding time for love? And what of these criminals, the captors and the killer, who take the Apostle's names? Will Alphonse ever find the link between them, and possibly solace for his parent's death? It's all in the next installment of '"Don't Miss," he said.': A dirge of loss, An etude of love, a rondo of mystery, and a march of action!

--Kyoketsu Shoge



"Don't Miss," He Said Ch. 03



Here it is: the next exciting chapter of '"Don't Miss," He Said.' I highly recommend you read the first two chapters of this story before continuing. If you don't, it's like dividing by zero: either your head explodes into many little logical fallacies, or your eyes turn black. The following takes place about three days after Alphonse and Elena moved in together. So, here we go. Alphonse, they're all yours.

*************

"If life ain't just a joke, than why am I laughing? If life ain't just a joke, than why are we laughing? If life ain't just a joke, than why are we dead?" --My Chemical Romance: Dead!

*************

I was getting annoyed.

"I thought it was Foxtrot. You are using NATO phonetics, right," Elena asked.

"Well, it could be, but if there's a heavy machine gunner layin' some death on your 20, and you've got to radio foxtrot for assistance, you gotta count your syllables. Take an extra syllable, and your jaw could be hangin' by a thread. Shot clean off. That's a messy procedure, reattaching a jaw, mind you," Gibalev told her.

"Christ, Gibalev, tone it down. Some of us don't eat off of cadavers," Himeko scolded him.

"Ah, let him talk," Albrecht said, swallowing some more eggs. "This is the first time in months they've eaten at ease."

"First time in a while I've done a lot of things, Staff Sergeant," Manstir said. "Sleeping in separate rooms for once is a blessing."

"That's never stopped you before," commented Gibalev, struggling to cut the thick slabs of bacon. "Don't think we can't here you fapping up there. Not too tactical."

Peterson started graphically chugging his tall glass of orange juice. Himeko started cheering for him as he drank.

"Maybe he wants you to hear him, Gibalev," my brother said.

I put my head in my hands. This was getting too much for me. "Jesus Christ," I sighed into my palms. "What next, a musical number?"

"KILL!!!" yelled Peterson as he slammed his glass into the table, and Himeko and Elena started to cheer and clap. Albrecht stood up from his seat to join the clapping.

"Well done, Peterson! CCK!"

The three men answered similarly, "CCK!"

"Assume the front-leaning rest position," shouted Albrecht, getting down into the same position, suitable for starting pushups.

Peterson, Gibalev and Manstir went down on the floor as well, and they started doing pushups in unison. Then they began singing. "Oh, believe me if all those endearing young charms!"

Again, I was getting annoyed.

"Which I gaze on so fondly today," they continued, very irreverently. "Were to change by tomorrow!"

Albrecht yelled through the singing, "Louder still! With fervor!"

"Or fleet in my arms," they sang, getting louder. "Just like fairy gifts fading away!" They then all rose, and Albrecht picked up his fork from the table, pointing it dramatically down the hallway.

"Retreat! Get inside the Hornburg! They've breached the fucking Deeping Wall!"

Able Squad sprinted out of the room screaming, with Albrecht following them, making more Lord of the Rings references as he went. His fork finally fell back onto the table. "I don't think I can take much more of this, Elena," I finally said, after the front door closed. "Now I realize why they make the recruits eat at attention."

Elena got up from her seat, clearing the places of dishes and silverware as she came towards me. "Don't fret," she said. "They're quite entertaining. It's kind of fun." She passed behind me, grabbed the plate and fork I had used, and planted a kiss on the back of my neck, whispering in my ear, "Plus, he's your brother, and they're with him. We haven't much of a choice."

"What do you think, Himeko," I asked, noticing the far-off look in her eyes. She seemed to shake herself as if from sleep.

"You don't want to know what I think, Alphonse."

I looked behind me where she had been looking, and saw Able squad out on the lawn, about thirty yards out, doing more pushups, while Albrecht paced back and forth. By the way his mouth was moving, I assume he was giving them a highly motivating cadence.

I sat at my desk in the study later that day, talking with Peterson, who had his laptop with him. He had spread several files on my desk, which I was perusing. "Are any groups claiming responsibility for this one," I asked, motioning to one document in particular.

Peterson looked down at his laptop and furrowed his brow in thought. He made a few quick keystrokes, then responded, still typing and scrolling, "the attack on BWI? That was a while ago. Let me check it out. Police don't have anything, and local feds shut up about it before the body was cleaned up."

"What was the actual crime? My copy here's blacked out everything but pronouns and articles."

"Single target, single shot. Heavy caliber sniper round. The rifling reminded me of a Barrett, and the round was a .50 cal, but I guess I'm biased."

"Biased?"

"The Barrett .50 caliber, anti-material sniper rifle: I love that motherfucker."

Even I had heard of the badass-ery possible when the weapon was loosed. "Any other information," I asked.

"Well, like I said, local authorities clammed up, but the NSA...They caught something."

"NSA? National Security Agency? But they're external affairs, right?"

"I was skeptical at first, too, but I reason it like this: if it's an international airport, than foreigners can come and go, right? If there are any high-priority targets coming and going, we'd want eyes all over that bitch."

"Go on."

"Well, it turns out that the TSA has its own cameras in the interior. But...NSA's got the exterior taped like a television studio. This is the only picture we have of the assassin."

Peterson handed me an enlargement of the pixel-ridden snapshot I had been provided with in my document. It was a smallish figure, probably no more than five and a half feet tall, hunched over, hefting the sniper rifle. The figure wore a skintight suit with a tactical vest-rig.

"One thing," Peterson said, "it's a woman." "Intriguing. So who's this...bitch's master?"

Peterson thought for a moment, hand running over his high-and-tight haircut. "Well, we don't know. The only clue we have is the shell casing recovered from the rooftop. While the bullet was modified to be a devastator round, quite a trick on a rifle round, the shell casing was standard issue. It was engraved though. It said 'we see your sins', and it had what we believe to be a fish below the text."

"Gospel squad; no doubt about it."

"Now that's a shitty name, like Beauty and the Beast corps. I thought those guys didn't exist. Mr. Rosethorne, are you saying you buy into this Christian Terrorism bullshit?"

"They're not Christian terrorists. And the B&B corps was shit hot; especially if you've got a machine fetish. I also know who Gospel's mastermind is. They call him Judas."

"Jesus Christ...the serial killer?"

I stood up from my seat, and let the files drop into Peterson's lap. "Corporal Peterson," I said, as I left the room, pausing before closing the door, "you may deal in intelligence. But I...I deal in experience."

I left Peterson in the room, and went to find Elena.

She was sitting in the living room with Albrecht. "Hi, Alphonse," she said, seeing me enter. I sat down next to her, and listened as Albrecht finished up his story.

"But when I looked down, I realized it was actually made of chicken livers, and not album covers like I had thought. Five seconds later, we heard the news about the prime minister, but we weren't paying attention, because it was our turn for the roller coaster."

"No wonder she couldn't play soccer after that," Elena said.

"What were you talking about, Albrecht," I asked.

He responded, "I was telling your girlfriend here about the day I met Gibalev."

"Good story," I responded. Albrecht excused himself, and I turned to Elena. "I can't help but smile every time."

"Every time what?"

"Every time someone calls you my girlfriend; it makes me happy," I said.

"Aww, Alphonse. That's cute."

"Maybe, but it's also true. I love you Elena."

She smiled, and leaned in close. I planted a kiss on the side of her neck, nudging up her chin so I could kiss under it. Elena sighed heavily, and rubbed her hand across my leg, raking her nails across, and rubbing the inside of my thigh.

"Now now, Elena; someone could walk in at any time. Let's keep it PG, okay," I asked her in a mock-lecturing tone.

"Hmm...let them come and go as they please," Elena said, leaning closer, and resting her head on my chest. "I think I'd be okay with the whole world knowing."

"Yeah, but..." I kissed the top of her head. "I think they'd be jealous of us," I said with a smirk on my face. My smirk faded.

"What's wrong, Alphonse," Elena said, looking around.

"Have you seen Himeko recently," I asked, getting up.

Elena frowned. "Oh, come on Al," she pined, "sit down. Worry about your sister later."

That was odd. Did Elena just...Himeko? My sister? I had no sister, least of all Himeko.

"What was that you said?"

"Oh, nothing. Come and sit down," she said in a low sultry voice. "Your little Relena's pussy has gotten so wet."

"What?!" Elena had never talked like that before. Hold on...Relena? What was going on?

I mused for a second, and decided to play along. "Hey, um...Relena?"

"Yes, Alphonse?"

"If I give you some...release..."

"Go on, Al."

"Could I call you Elena while I do it?"

She seemed taken aback, but quickly regained her cool. "You can call me anything you want, big guy, even Elena," she said.

"Who are you," I asked. This was not my Elena. "Just who the hell are you?"

The sexy grin was wiped from her face. She cursed under her breath as she stood up, her eyes cast down. She shifted her feet slightly, right shoulder forward. I heard a suppressed laugh come from the woman, and it grew, until I was sure everyone in the house could hear it.

The next thing I remember, I was on the ground, and this faux-Elena was jumping to her feet, withdrawing a knife from my side. I felt a white-hot surge as the blade's length came out of my side, and oxygen flooded my tissues. I was losing blood fast, and my body was doing its best to dull the pain...by making me pass out.

As my vision faded, I saw the Elena-imposter pull at her neck. Once. Twice. The third time, her neck seemed to change color, followed by her whole head, and change into a neutral green hue, reforming to the shape of a spandex hood. Everything went white just as the figure's body changed a similar green, losing its shape and becoming more...curvy. "Octo-camo," I said, and as my hearing too slipped into a monotone siren, I heard a deep, throaty female voice, laughing lightly as it spoke.

"Yeah, just like it, kid."

*************

"Goddamit! Wake the hell up! Fuckin' civilians...Peterson, get another bucket. Yeah, with ice this time. That oughta wake the son'bitch up quick as shit." I recognized the voice as that of Gibalev. Thank God we had a medic.

I rose up off the ground, but quickly fell back to the ground, as the pain in my side was unbearable. "Think you curse enough, Gibalev," I asked, surprised at how weak my voice sounded.

"Yeah, well, I talk out of my head, when I...get worried is all. Glad you're up and around," he responded. I was surprised that Gibalev was worried about me, thinking that he must have had a lot of gruesome field-medic incidents.

Gibalev kept his nervous smile as he continued. "You had us sweating back there, Rosethorne. We were all worried, but...some of us more than others." He looked up from where I lay. "You can send her in now."

I looked to where he had called, but saw only an old set of sky-blue bed sheets from my childhood. They were hung in a square around me, and as I looked up, I realized they were duct-taped to the ceiling. 

Suddenly, Elena burst through a slight break in the makeshift curtain. I have said that Elena's eyes looked beautiful with tears accenting the corners, but this type of crying I could do without. Her eyes were red, as were her cheeks, and the area around her eyes. Makeup ran from her eyes; it looked as if she had been crying continuously for some time.

"Alphonse," she cried out, seeing me propped up on one elbow. She ran closer and slid onto her knees, holding me in her arms.

I winced in pain as her hand pushed into my bandaged wound. She looked at her hand, finding it stained with blood despite the heavy bandaging Gibalev had given me. "Oh God, Alphonse...I knew it was bad, but...Will you be alright?"

Trying to lighten the mood, I laughed a little. "Yeah, but the doctor says I'll never play the piano again." Elena laughed along, and I saw her finally switch from tears of sadness to tears of relief, and joy.

Elena raised her hand, still bloody. She brought it down hard across the right side of my face. "Holy shi—Elena! Why did you.."

"That," she said with a heavy grimace, "is for offering to finger another woman."

"I'm sorry Elena. I thought it was you."

She continued, raising her hand again. "This is to get the blood off your face," she said, wiping my face with the non-bloody half of her hand.

"Elena..."

"And this," she said, smiling and leaning in close, "is for surviving." She leaned in even closer, and kissed me deeply. The metallic taste of blood graced my tongue as I slid it past my lips and hers. If I was going to get stabbed and then slapped...dammit, I was going to get some.

"Eh-hem..."

We swiveled our eyes, unwilling or unable to break the kiss.

It was Albrecht. He stepped through the curtain-break and motioned us through to the other side. Elena took my right hand, and I kept my left pressed against my wound, bearing the pain that would wash over me each time I put weight on my right foot.

When we 'broke on through to the other side', I saw Albrecht sitting back down in a grouping of chairs with Gibalev, Peterson and Manstir. There were two empty chairs which Elena and I took seats at.

"What's going on," I asked everyone. "Who was...Oh god, where's Himeko?" I had noticed that there was no chair for her. Everyone looked away, not wanting to catch my gaze. No one answered. "That wasn't Elena, and it wasn't Himeko that...that attacked me. I know it wasn't either of them."

"Yeah," Manstir remarked with a slight grin, "but it was for me." He sounded different. I looked him over, and noticed him clutching his right side, just as I had done.

"What do you mean," I asked, already expecting what was to come.

Manstir shifted in his chair and began, pausing for broken breath now and again. "I was looking around upstairs, and I saw this open door. I knew it wasn't Miss Wallcroft's room, so I was curious, right?"

We nodded.

He continued, "so, I open the door, and I see someone's in the bed. The covers are pulled up except for the head. I recognized the hair as, uh...Himeko, but she's not turned towards me. So, I call out to her. No answer, but I can hear heavy breathing, and she's moving a little. I shake her, but no answer."

I had guessed what strategy the attacker was going to use. Even Elena was blushing.

"I shake her again, and she rolls over onto her back, and looks straight at me. Her eyes looked...dead. I guess it was from the...ministrations. So, she asks me if I want to watch. I respond as any red-blooded male who's been touring with Able Company—with no decent pussy around, I might add—would respond. I said yes."

If there was a picture in an encyclopedia for 'face-palm', Elena would have been the two page spread. 

"Anyway," Manstir said, "so she pulls the comforter down, and she's nude. I mean dead nude. No hair or anything. She looked ready too. So, she's got one hand up on her tits, mauling those suckers, and the other hand's down there going to town on herself with the ole' in-out, in-out."

I felt myself getting aroused, even if it was involuntary. I guess I had never really thought of Himeko as a sexual creature. She had always been there to help me, assist me...She was more like a big sister to me. Oh God...why does that turn me on. God, I'm a terrible person.

Elena nudged me from my thoughts as Manstir went on:

"So I watch her for about a minute, and she tells me she's getting close. I mean, I could hear the squishy noises and what-not. She asks me to 'finish her off'. I had no idea, but turns out she grabbed my hand and stuck me deep inside her. I felt some weird spandex-like resistance, and at first I'm thinking: is this girl a virgin? But then I realize that it shouldn't stretch like that, and should have some sort of hole."

Elena was visibly different. Obviously Manstir's story was having an effect on her too.

"Then, she clamps up and I know she's cumming on my fingers, and I mean, she clamped like a giant clam. I couldn't pull my fingers out. So then, after a minute, she still hasn't released me, and I'd been trying. All of a sudden the girl starts laughing. Hysterically. Before I can ask her what's so funny, I feel this pain in my right side. I look down and the bitch stabbed me."

"Amazing. To think that a man's sexual instinct could get him into trouble," said Elena, obviously sarcastic.

"Regardless, here's why I'm worried, and why we're locked in the basement," said Gibalev, taking charge of the conversation. "The bitch attacked both of you, same girl."

"How is that possible; how do you know," asked Albrecht.

"She's using some sort of optical camouflage. Changes her appearance; I thought it was still top-secret intelligence shit, but apparently," Peterson said, trailing off where his knowledge stopped.

"And, we know it's the same woman from these," Gibalev said, holding up a plastic bag with two metal fragments inside.

"What are those," I asked.

"Blade fragments, from the knife she stabbed you with. I recovered them while treating you," Gibalev said. "We also know that you were attacked first. You got the very tip to the rib, whereas he took a part further down the blade.

"Can we tell what model knife she's using, maybe get an idea who she's working for," asked Albrecht.

Gibalev sighed. "Yes," he said, "it's a standard military bowie knife. But, that's not what worries me."

"What's the bad news," I asked.

Manstir jumped in: "It was my knife."

I thought for a second...then spoke, "so she stole your knife, stabbed you, then stabbed me. Case closed, right?"

"Not quite," Gibalev said. "Remember, you were stabbed first. That means that the bitch stole Manstir's knife...stabbed you, and then went back to bait him with the bedroom antics."

"One more thing worries me though," Manstir said. I gave him an inquisitive look. He answered, "The knife...it ended up in your pocket. The bitch is playing with us."

We sat silently again, the only sound being laughter. It was her; psychotic laughter that drifted down to the basement. We looked up as we heard heavy static resolved into more snickering.

"She's using the old intercom system," I said, recognizing the static from Himeko's morning calls. "That means she's in Himeko's room."

"You'd be...right about that," the deeper female voice from before said through the static. "And I must say, we're having a lot...of fun!"

Albrecht walked over to the north wall, where he saw a box for the intercom. He pressed the button, and responded, "Who are you?"

"Hmm...Good question," the voice responded, and took a pause. "I think this one's called Himeko, right? She's awfully cute. But me? They call me James...the Just." My worst fears were then confirmed. It was Gospel again. 

Albrecht gave me a knowing look. He knew it was them as well. He then responded through the intercom, "How do we know Himeko's even alive?"

The voice went silent. Even the quiet laughter ceased. "Well, she can't come to the phone at the moment, but she has a message for...Albrecht. She says 'ohhhhh...take me...I'm so wet and ready.'" The voice faded off, but was quickly replaced by a full maniacal spout of hilarity.




"Don't Miss," He Said Ch. 03



Albrecht struck the wall. I think he probably left a dent; not that I blame him though. We said nothing, just listened to the laughter of Himeko's captor. Peterson suddenly looked up. "The intercom hub upstairs...can it be heard throughout the whole house?" 

I pondered the idea for a moment, "Yeah, it can. Albrecht, release the button."

Albrecht took his finger off the button, no longer allowing the captor...James...from hearing us. I turned to Peterson. "What did you have in mind, Peterson?"

"One more question...is the hub for the intercom up there exactly the same as this one down here?"

I responded, "No, it looks pretty different. We never updated it from the old owners, so she looks like a telephone operator from one of those old movies."

Peterson's eyes lit up. The ball was in his court now. "Staff Sergeant, remember Beirut?"

"How could I forget," Albrecht mused, rubbing his head. "Which fight do you mean?"

"I mean the second night after we got there, when we invaded the fuel and weapons depot. There was an advanced alarm system, remember?"

Albrecht, Gibalev and Manstir nodded in unison. Gibalev began to smile, as he slowly realized what they needed to do. "And we needed to trigger the alarm to take out the guardsman," Gibalev reminisced. "So that when we took him out, we took over the post, and declared it a false alarm."

"Yeah," Manstir said, "but that's not what he's talking about. I think he means the way we took out the guardsman. Attention diversion...and a system shock."

"You mean," I reasoned, "you want to distract her, and then send a shock through the intercom system?" I thought further..."In Beirut, that was a huge complex right? This puny system might be able to shock a rat, but I'm not sure about a human."

"That's why," Albrecht said, "I'm doing the distracting. Worst case scenario: the shock only surprises this James character and I have to go in and finish the job. Regardless, here's how it's gonna go down."

As Albrecht revealed the plan, Gibalev began removing the door-barricade. "I'll head upstairs, and get into position outside Himeko's door." Manstir took what was left of his knife, and used it to pry open the wall panel which held the basement intercom which Albrecht had used. "Then, once Manstir has the wires spliced," which Manstir started doing, "Peterson hooks the spliced wires into his computer."

Peterson removed his hard drive and other essential data pieces from the machine before connecting it to the spliced electrical wires. Albrecht continued, "Then, once I'm in position, Peterson's gonna send a jolt of feedback through the intercom. Once this James bitch responds, the circuit opens, and Peterson sends the shock. I breach the room and finish her off. Questions?"

Elena and I merely sat, as everyone else made final preparations. "Alright, I'm heading up there," Albrecht said.

Elena shifted closer to me, and held me against her tighter. I could tell she was worried about Himeko. "Don't worry," I tried to console her, "everything will turn out fine."

She didn't respond, but I didn't expect her to. If she was this broken up, I could only imagine how bad Albrecht must have been, as he mounted the stairs up to Himeko' room.

Peterson radioed Albrecht: "Staff Sergeant, this is it. I'm sending the feedback in five. Five, four, three, two, one, feedback is live." We looked towards the ceiling as a prolonged shriek of pain came through the ceiling. "Cutting feedback," said Peterson, and the shriek died down.

We waited with bated breath, awaiting the response from James. The intercom crackled to life. "You think some loud noise is enough to take me out?" Peterson readied the shock, and his computer whirred and crackled with the effort of building the surge. "Say something you bastards," screamed the voice, and Peterson fired the surge.

The lights dimmed, shined brightly, and went dark altogether. The surge blew the fuses as it travelled upstairs. I heard a thump as Albrecht breached the bedroom. "Let's head up there, just in case," I told everyone.

Gibalev and Peterson helped Manstir up the stairs with Elena helping me. The wound's pain was subsiding, but walking was still a chore. On the first floor, we heard a bad omen. More laughter seemed to permeate the house. This time, though, it was different; older. Manstir went to his good knee, and said, "Gibalev, Peterson, go help Staff Sergeant. Leave me here."

The two obeyed and rushed off upstairs. I hurried as best I could, Elena helping me with the last few stairs. As we rounded the corner into the hallway, I saw Gibalev and Peterson both half-in the room, weapons drawn and aimed. They let us past, as Gibalev untied Himeko. Up against the wall, I beheld a sight which I had both longed to see again, and also hoped to forget.

"Mom..."

Slumped against the wall, Albrecht holding a knife to her throat, was my mother. "Albrecht, let mom go," I said, still in disbelief.

"No! It's not really her," he responded. "When I breached, she was wearing this hood, but it...changed."

The face of my mother moved her eyes to mine. She smiled slightly, and said in the voice I remember, "My little Al, please make your big mean brother stop this."

"You're not really my mother," I said, voice shaking, nearly in tears. "Why would you do this? You knew we couldn't kill something like...like her."

Still in the voice of our mother, James turned to Albrecht. "Go on and do it. If I'm not fooling anyone, then why don't you kill me," she asked, quiet at first, but growing in volume as she continued. "Or maybe this would make it easier."

Her face changed to be that of my father. "How about now," James continued, in the voice of my father, "surely you had thoughts of killing your father; something Oedipal perhaps?" The voice continued, broken with laughter.

The face changed once more, and it was my own. It was odd, and sickening, seeing this woman use my own face and voice to manipulate my brother. "I bet you're jealous of me, huh," James said in my voice, "I've got Relena...no, it's Elena isn't it," she said, as she turned towards Elena.

Elena turned away disgusted, and ran from the room. I'm certain I heard her being violently ill outside the door. "So do it, brother," James continued, "Don't miss, brother...or do! I don't care! Miss my artery and make me die slowly! That's a fun way to get a murder charge, huh?"

The laughter grew. Albrecht released the knife from her throat, and the hood changed back to its neutral green. I looked to Albrecht.

"Why," the woman, James, asked.

"You're unarmed," Albrecht responded, helping the woman to her feet. "And, if you're reserved to your death, then I think letting you live would be a worse punishment."

The woman removed her hood, revealing a tangled mop of blonde hair. Suddenly, the laughter stopped altogether. She looked around, and began breathing heavily. She looked down, and I heard her begin to weep.

"Well, then. I guess there's no joke left. If you won't kill me for it, I guess it just isn't funny anymore," she said.

From her pocket she retrieved a small capsule, which she broke open. Inside was a small tablet. Gibalev entered the room, and saw what she held in her hand. He yelled out for her to stop, but she merely smiled as she put it in her mouth. "But, this..." she snickered again, "this should be hilarious." She bit down on the tablet as Gibalev rushed to stop her.

He knelt by James, and looked at her dumbfounded. "Why kill yourself," he asked her.

"Well," James said, beginning to quiver, this time not with laughter. "Life's just a joke. That's why I laugh at it. But I'm tired, so it's time to be serious; time to die."

*************

Within minutes, James the Just lay dead. I suppose she was ordered to end her life, should her mission fail. Perhaps, though, it was her decision. Gibalev had tried to revive her, but to no avail. He instead turned his ministrations to Himeko, who was shaken, but not injured. 

I fell into fitful sleep that night, tossing and turning. I'm embarrassed to admit that my dream was about James. It was the end of my life, and as I entered the afterlife, I saw James, and she was laughing. 

I woke with a start; someone had shaken me from my dream. I looked to see a delicate hand. My gaze travelled up the arm to behold Elena, standing at the side of my bed. The pajamas she wore seemed to hang off her, seemingly several sizes too big. Her hair was disheveled, and her eyes looked ridden with fatigue.

"Elena...what is it," I asked, taken aback that she would be in my room. She hopped up onto the bed, and sandwiched herself under the thick, downy covers. She lay face down, as she shifted closer to me, holding my hand with both of hers.

"It was cold in my room. I think there's a draft at the window," she responded, sleepily.

I had a feeling that wasn't the real reason, but decided not to pry. Hell, who would argue with sleeping with a girl this amazingly beautiful? As she turned on her side, she faced away from me, and snuggled tighter against me. I turned as well, spooning her, but trying not to be forceful.

Elena stretched out her arms, and placed them in front of her. She pushed her body back towards me, and I could feel the warmth of her body against me. For a moment, the feeling was wonderful...before the worry set in.

I usually sleep in the nude. This night was no exception. As Elena pushed against me, my bare skin was racked with shivers. I felt the cool, smooth silk of Elena's pajamas against my front. As I put my arm around her waist, she pushed into me further, nestling...something...on her perfectly soft ass.

"Alphonse...you're poking me."

"I'm sorry, Elena. It's not something I can control."

"Well, don't act on your thoughts, okay? I want some sleep."

She shifted once more, sending a shock through my body as I felt her soft ass caress my hard length. I knew it would take a lot of self-control to get through this night without Elena smacking me and storming out of the room.

She'd probably tell Himeko the whole story if I mess up here, I thought. And Himeko would...console her? Comfort her? But how...That would be nice to watch, huh? Hime trying to comfort Elena, showing her what gentle love should have been...Shut up, instinct.

Finally, after many torturous minutes, sleep took me in its embrace. But, even in my dreams, I dreamt of Elena's embrace...continuing this perfect night forever.

*************

Well, thank you for another chapter, Alphonse. This concludes chapter three. Be sure to take a second to comment or vote. Or Both! 24 votes in 7000 views are good, but I think we could all use more, you tracking? Good. Now then...the next chapter...Oh yes.

Next Time: Chapter IV: "No God, Know Fear...Know God, No Fear."

Alphonse and Elena are growing more comfortable, but what of Albrecht and Himeko? Can Himeko see past the attempt on her life, and give Albrecht a chance at love? House Rosethorne is safe for now, but the fight gets taken to two fronts, as Albrecht and Alphonse must separate to fight the next two members of Gospel. Can they defeat the enemies without help from their sibling, and can Gibalev, Manstir and Peterson keep from wrecking House Rosethorne? The answers and the action are all in the next exciting, romantic installment of "Don't Miss," He Said. 



"Don't Miss," He Said Ch. 04 Pt. 01



Greetings again, readers! Your humble raconteur returns with the next exciting installment of "Don't Miss," He Said. It's time again to join Alphonse, Elena, and the rest of the gang for another bit of fun. More conflict with Gospel, and more romance for the couples. Here you are. Alphonse Rosethorne, take command of your story...Carry out the plan of the day!

*************

"Holy Mary, Mother of God; Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.  Amen."  Franz Schubert: "Ave Maria

*************

It was two days after the house was invaded by James the Just. We had turned the body over to the authorities, and had all but gotten back to a normal state of affairs. Breakfast was zany and loud; the days lazed by with more research, and nights...were spent with Elena.

I was perfectly content to sleep with Elena. Though we never got more intimate than sleeping whilst cuddled together, I cherished the chilly midwinter nights during which we would sleep away the cold. We were secure in each other's arms. Now that I look back on it, we were young and naïve; like children playing house.

My activities, when not researching the yet unrevealed members of Gospel, were spent with Elena. There was nearly nothing we did apart, from grocery store runs to clothes shopping.

Heading home from a windy day at the shops, our back seat laden with foodstuffs, I reached a decision with which I had been flirting for many months. While Elena and I expressed our love for each other physically, and often proclaimed it to each other, we had never done anything public. I cleared my throat, and looked over at Elena. She turned to me with an inquisitive look.

"Elena, I've been thinking," I said, turning my eyes back to the road ahead.

"What about, Alphonse," she responded.

"Well," I continued, "We've been together like this for a while now, and it's been so lovely, but we've never...dated, have we?"

A look of relief overtook Elena's face. She had probably thought my words would travel a more...serious path.

"No," she mused, "we haven't. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I just thought that the most beautiful girl in the world might want to see a show tonight."

"Oh, Alphonse, that's a wonderful idea. What is it we'll be seeing?"

"It's a surprise," I said. "But I guarantee that by the time it's over, we'll both be in tears."

"That good, huh? Okay, now I really can't wait."

That evening, I waited in the living room for Elena. We had planned to leave in ten minutes, so I assumed she was finishing her preparations for the show. I heard a noise at the staircase, and turned to see Elena descending.

The dress which accented her was simple; tasteful. The black dress came nearly down to her knees, lying neatly and tightly against her, not a single wrinkle evident. Stunning is what it was, but in my opinion, Elena could have made sandpaper cargo shorts look sexy.

We took off for the opera in my car, but I shared the back seats with Elena. I entrusted Himeko with the task of driving us, with the provision that she could sit with us during the performances. I had recognized this show as perfect for us when I first saw it: the show was to contain some of the most romantic arias known to any time period.

We arrived at the Joseph Meyerhof Symphony Hall, and Elena and I disembarked from the car, telling Himeko to meet us inside. This was the first time Elena had been to Baltimore, and she was immediately enamored with the city.

I gave the doorman our tickets, and he directed us up a flight of stairs. As we walked, I made sure he could point Himeko in our direction, and he was only too happy to oblige. We ascended the staircase, and I opened a door into a balcony seat about midway back from stage left.

"Quite the view, Alphonse," Elena remarked, taking a seat. "But why a private booth?"

"I just wanted this to be a little more personal for us."

The lights soon darkened, and the curtain opened, revealing the maestro and his symphony orchestra, with a full choir on their right flank. From opposing sides of the stage, a man and a woman neared center-stage.

To applause, the two gave due courtesies and bows before stepping up to separate podia.

Elena tugged my sleeve lightly as the applause died down. "Are they supposed to have the music with them, Alphonse?"

"Well, this is more of a recital than an actual opera, so it's okay in this instance. Here's the first piece. It's from Puccini's La Bohème. It follows Rodolfo and Mimi, during which Mimi is dying from consumption."

The orchestra began, as the two singers traded off melodic lines, singing brilliant descants as they overlapped. "The odd part about this piece," I continued, "is that the last line is delivered offstage."

"Why is that," Elena wondered.

"Rodolfo's friends have beckoned them to leave their favorite café."

"How rude of them. Although I suppose a woman dying of consumption could put a hamper on business."

Elena was enjoying the music. She was the first to applaud as the singers returned to the stage. The next piece took a moment to prepare, during which Himeko quietly came into the box. She sat quietly behind us, and made scarce greetings.

The next piece started, as the female singer exited the stage, leaving the divo behind. He sang the starting note, followed soon by the orchestra. The two traded off, the winds mirroring the melodic hills which the singer presented.

"Oh, Alphonse, I know this one," Elena said. "It's from Gounod's Romeo et Juliette."

"Very astute, my dear. This is the balcony scene, right?"

"Yes, it was Act two in the play. Romeo sneaks into the Capulet's garden, and begs for Juliet to appear."

"Indeed," I responded, "listen how the orchestra speaks for Juliet. The more Rome sings, the more vibrant the orchestra becomes, as though the two are talking."

As the piece came to a close, the man withdrew, and the woman returned, soaked in the spotlight. The aria was from La Damnation de Faust, and it was "D'amour l'ardente flame."

"This is Berlioz, right," asked Elena.

"Very good. Yes, this is his Faust. In this aria, Marguerite is longing for Faust to appear. She goes through stages; panic, distress, but returns to her pensive mood."

We listened, and as the song neared the end, Elena spoke up. "Faust...didn't need to sell his soul to the devil for Marguerite's love...did he, Alphonse?"

"That's the irony, yes."

I loved that I could share this evening with Elena, both of us riding the melodies, intertwined in the chords and harmonies. I wished that the night might last forever, but sadly, Berlioz's piece too came to a pensive close.

The maestro stood and turned to face the audience, who was soon standing with applause. He bowed, and motioned the two singers to center stage, where they took their bows. The vocalist then turned to the maestro, and whispered something in his ear. The maestro smiled knowingly to the vocalist, and, discreetly, to me. He turned to the orchestra, who reached under their chairs to retrieve another book of music.

A single French horn pierced the air with a repeated high note, and was soon followed by the harpist, who played sixteenths which swept through prolonged chords by the strings. The male vocalist stepped beyond the podium, leaving his music behind. He began a simple melody, as the orchestra modulated around him.

"Ave Maria, Gratia plena," the vocalist began, stretching out the vowels to the string's bowtips. 

Elena sat in awe, her hand to her mouth, overtaken by emotion. As the vocalist continued, I saw tears streak her cheeks. "Maria Gratia plena, Maria Gratia plena," he continued through the initial wave of applause.

The background died down as he reached the end of the first phrase. Elena turned to me, trying to sniff away her tears. I could see the joy in her eyes. This was...her favorite song.

*************

I first discovered her love for the song about three years ago. We were on our way to Physical Education from German class, walking together; Elena, me, and...Catherine.

"Why'd you stop, Elena," I asked her, looking back to see her stopped dead, hand raised as if to halt us.

Elena merely listened to something we could not hear, and said, "It sounds...familiar." She took off running down a left corridor, and Catherine and I followed. We found her outside a door, head resting against the cold glass, looking in.

I noticed that the room she was watching was part of the music department, and peered in from behind her to see our orchestra. Though I could barely hear what they played, I could hear the voice singing. It was a female voice; a soprano, singing a melody which to me, also sounded familiar.

"It's the Ave Maria, by Schubert," Elena said dreamily. "My mother used to sing it to me...when I couldn't sleep. She'd hold me in her arms, and sing until I fell asleep. It never took more than a few lines, but she would stay with me, humming the melody...until the song was done."

I watched, as Elena kept a legato time with her hand, conducting with an invisible baton.

"Except," she said, "I think it would sound better...with a tenor."

*************

"Et benedictus fructus ventris, Ventris tui Jesus," the tenor continued, as Elena told me with her eyes, that she knew I had planned this.

Elena kept her gaze on me, as I merely smiled. She raised herself out of her seat, and came over to me. The music grew further, and Elena sat down gently in my lap. As she did, I cradled her head against my shoulder.

"Nunc et in hora mortis, in hora mortis, mortis nostrae," he sang, seemingly reaching a minor key, embracing death, as concerned the lyrics.

"Elena..."

"Alphonse, will you hold me till it's over," she asked.

"Of course, Elena," I responded, and softly rocked her on my lap in time with the music, which returned to a major resolution.

The final recapitulation arrived: The singer took a final breath as the orchestra took a grand pause. "Ave..." We waited in suspense, while the tenor drew out the note as long as the measure allowed.

"Mari..."

"ah..."

The orchestra had barely begun playing the final measure before the whole audience started their ovation. Well, not the whole audience. Elena and I felt the thunderous applause as one, as our lips joined, my cheeks sharing the caress of her joyful tears.

We parted, smiling at each other, and I motioned to Himeko, who provided Elena with a handkerchief. She began to dab at her eyes, and I watched the center aisle, where a coated man got up from his seat, and approached the stage, a bouquet in arms. 

"How thoughtful," said Elena, finally capable of words.

Then, I saw something odd. From the right aisle, another man began descending towards the stage, a similar bouquet in hand. "Elena, do you see that," I asked her.

She turned, and watched as the man on the right-hand aisle was halted by another man wearing a long coat. Suddenly...a comic sounding 'poom' echoed through the theatre.

Less than a second later, the theatre shook, as the stage suffered the large explosion. Elena and I unshielded our eyes, and I beheld the destruction down on the stage. There was a large fissure in the front of the stage where the explosion had rocked the floor, and all on the stage lay still. Stunned...or dead.

I looked to the center, where the vocalists and maestro had stood but a moment ago, but saw only a black scorch to memorialize their gruesome deaths.

'Alphonse, the man in the center aisle...look," Elena said, motioning to the coated man with the large bouquet. He gripped the paper, and threw it behind him, loosing a shower of roses. As the petals settled, it became obvious that the man held a grenade launcher. He opened the barrel to a hiss of steam, and loaded another round, which slid in with a 'shlip'.

The man took the last few steps to the stage, and leaped effortlessly up onto it. He turned to face the audience. "Sinners..." he said, with a sinister grin on his face, and in his voice, "shouldn't bastardize such a holy work."

He cocked a lever under the barrel, and rested the weapon on his shoulder. "Isn't that right," he continued, letting the barrel raise towards us, "Alphonse Rosethorne?"

"No way," I whispered in disbelief.

"Oh yes, little Al. You were still very young when it happened, but I guess you've got an idea who I might be," he said, pacing the stage, but never aiming away from us. "And who, might I ask, is the lovely lady you have with you tonight?"

"You bastard, you should know who she is," I yelled down to the stage, "that is, if you're who I think you are."

"Say it," he said. "The name of your parent's murderer; the name I live with!"

"Judas," I said.

"That's right. Your parents paid for their sins, as did the girl's. And, tonight, another paid in full. And, although I'm not sure about the soprano and maestro, we can never be too careful...when souls are at stake...now can we," he responded, the same sinister smirk in his diction.

"Bastard," Elena spat. "They were innocent, and you killed them too!"

"Watch what you say, Miss Wallcroft," Judas countered, resting his finger to the heavy trigger. "None of you are innocent...None of you. Not even this one was born pure," he said, motioning to himself with his free hand. "But, I paid for my sins; my tainted blood is gone...But I did not have to bleed it from my own body."

"But why? ...Tell me why, Judas," I called to him.

He threw his head back, spilling his long black hair from in front of his face, and removed his sunglasses. To this day, I remember his eyes; his piercingly cold, starship yellow eyes. "It'll have to be some other time. For now, I think I'd better just leave before the police can ruin my day."

I gripped the banister in anger, and yelled to him once more, as he turned his back to leave the stage, exiting stage right. "Judas!"

He heeded my cry for but a second, then continued backstage, reaching into his coat pocket as he walked. What he threw over his shoulder did not immediately register in my mind. I believe it was Himeko who spoke first, calling us to the floor, as the apple shaped device sprouted its fiery wings.

Elena and I fell to the floor of the balcony as a firestorm engulfed the right half of the theatre. As the guests still able to move rushed out panicking, I collected Elena and quickly exited the box with Himeko leading the way. I pulled Elena over my shoulders, gripping an arm and leg in an impromptu buddy-carry with which we exited the building.

"Himeko, take care of Elena," I said, discarding my heavy coat and jacket.

"Where are you going, Alphonse," Himeko asked, taking Elena's arm around her shoulder.

"Isn't it obvious, Himeko? I'm going after Judas."

"Alphonse!" It was Elena, and before running off, I turned to her. "When you see him," she said, "Don't miss." I nodded to her before turning into an alley which led around back of the theatre.

I turned a corner, putting me behind the stage wall of the building, and saw Judas' coated silhouette rounding the corner, about fifty yards away. I called his name, but he simply walked on, still propping the grenade launcher on his shoulder. As he walked, I heard him start to sing, in his own smooth tenor.

"In hora mortis...mortis nostrae..."

I ran after him, listening to his singing as I turned the corner, and saw him near the center of a road. He turned to face me, and gave a slight wave with his free hand, which reached out behind him. He fired a grenade at the storefront to my right, and as I shielded my eyes, I saw a large green truck pass in front of him.

I recovered from the explosion's shock and ran to the street, only to see a large garbage truck...a green garbage truck...speeding down the street. There was a man hanging off the back, with long black hair. I gave chase for a short time, but quickly ran out of breath. I sank to my knees, exhausted, and heard a voice sing out from the garbage truck:

"Ave...Mari...ah..."

Blowing back towards me blew a long coat. It came to rest in front of me, while the echoes of the hymn reverberated off the empty streets. I didn't move from that spot until I felt Elena's soft hands shaking my shoulder. I suppose they found me kneeling in the street, throttling a long winter coat.

I folded the long coat, and boarded the car with Elena, and watched as Himeko left the city behind. We rode in silence, our perfect evening ruined...because of him; because of Judas. The coat lay crumpled in a heap on the car's floor, as far away from me as I could push it.

"Alphonse, I'm sorry this happened," Elena said, worry replaced by reserved disappointment.

"The bastard just won't leave me...won't leave us alone," I said. "If he had a beef with our parents, than why come after us?"

"Alphonse..."

"Yes, Elena?"

"The Ave Maria...It was beautiful. I don't think I've ever heard it performed better."

"Thank you, Elena. I knew you would like it."

"Do you think you could," she asked, hesitating as though embarrassed. "Would you sing it for me? I think I'd like to hear you sing it."

"I think I could do that," I replied, taking her in my arms. She rested in my lap, my arms cradling her as I had done in the theatre earlier, as I began to sing the best I could.

"Ave...Mari...ah..."

*************

We disembarked from the car, leaving Himeko to park up, as I carried Elena to her bedroom. We entered the house quietly, and were met with curious glances from Able Company, who quickly got very quiet when they saw us. I ascended the stairs with Elena in my arms, quietly humming the song to her as I went.

After I had rounded the corner to the bedroom hallway, I heard the men of Able Company exchanging theories as to our night out. The sounds of their talk and laughter were dimmed as I entered Elena's bedroom, and shut the door. I set her down, and she went about changing out of her dress. I was surprised as she backed up towards me, and motioned to her dress.

I realized what she needed, and carefully unzipped her dress, revealing to my surprise, a lack of underwear. This was not the first time I had seen Elena's breasts, but I was in awe as I got my first glimpse at her smooth, clean-shaven mound. Her outer lips were closed tightly, but a slight hint of her inner lips could be seen poking through.

I tried to get my voice, tried to warn her of her nudity, but she slumped onto the bed before I could find my tongue. I walked over to her bedside, and reached for the covers. Her hand rose to my arm to stop me, and I looked up to her face. Her eyes were glazed, as though half-asleep, and her mouth was slightly open. Her lips moved inaudibly for a moment, but were soon followed by words. "I told you, it's cold in here," she said.

"Elena, do you..."

"Please come and join me. I need you here to hold me and...to keep me safe."

I paused for a moment, again arguing with my instinct. However, this time, I saw a situation where both intellect and instinct could benefit. I disrobed, and joined Elena in her own bed. The sheets were silken, and held the cold. We shivered, and instinctively moved together for warmth. I held her from behind, and my body again began to react to Elena's soft ass.

This time, Elena made no attempts to speak of it. She merely turned her upper body, and gave me a quick goodnight kiss before resuming her position. We lay like that for several minutes, before Elena began to shift and fidget.

"Elena," I whispered, "are you alright?"

"I'm sorry to ask you, Alphonse...But do you think you could..."

"Anything, Elena."

"Sing for me? Just this once more...for me."

I was already lost in my feelings of love and lust with our naked flesh making its first soft caresses, so my voice shook and was sometimes broken as I held out the melody at my lowest dynamic. I fought back my shaking, steeling myself.




"Don't Miss," He Said Ch. 04 Pt. 01



In a legato, pianissimo tenor, I unchained the delicate melody.

"A-aa...ve...Ma-aari-ii...ah..."

Within a few lines, Elena fell into a restful sleep. I continued the song to its symmetrical end, letting the dynamic flourish as I ended the tune.

'A-aah...ve..."I paused to yawn, on the verge of sleep myself, "Mari-ii...ah..."

As I ended the song, I allowed sleep's warm embrace to take me, my mind almost devoid of the violence which punctuated the performance. Amen.

*************

A riveting tale, as always, Alphonse. This concludes the first part of chapter four. The advertised events of this chapter will begin next time, in chapter four; part two. Albrecht and Alphonse must separate in hopes of locating Judas, and Elena and Himeko will have to prove their worth in battle as well. Please remember to vote, and...this time I will not shy away from begging: Please comment! Let me know what you think. I strive to know. That's all for now. Check back soon.

--Kyoketsu_Shoge