*Point out any mistakes you might find, my editing abilities are not fine tuned at the moment.*
*****
"Hudson!" Shouted the superintendant, "are you in the moon? Get down here fucking quick, these people are dying in my jurisdiction!"
Slash sat back upright on his seat. He was distracted, to the point the only thing he could think was Axl sitting on his lap, his neck exposed, the silky hair touching his face.
Izzy was late, nothing unusual, but he was very late today, the room almost filled to the brim with people, the patrolers with their immaculate blue uniforms, that Slash had never used, because , like Izzy, they were deemed more suited for investigation and were both recruited as soon as their graduation from the academy took place, Izzy being an exepcional shooter, and Slash being number one on his promotion. They were as seemed fit for each other as a horse was fit for a cow, but somehow made it work, both serious and dedicated to their work.
"Stradlin!" Thundered the Boss, as soon as Izzy walked in, his hands on his pockets and a paper boy cap firmly tucket in his head. "What the fuck happened to your face?"
Slash gave Izzy a baffled look. His chin was black and blue, and his bottom lip, that he licked continuously to keep it from bleeding, split.
"It's nothing Sir, Nothing of importance at least." Izzy said, in a foul mood.
Deputy Chief Newstead was a thin, fibrous, nervous man. With a penchant for perfection and expecting from everyone the same dedication he put into his work, he rarely went home, (Izzy had this wild theory that the man didn't have one) sleeping in a foldable cot on his office when exhaustion overtook him.
"Attention please, everyone." The Boss, as they all called him, started. "We have a big fucking problem ladies." He swiched a screen on and 5 corpses apperead on it.
"Five?" Asked Izzy.
"Yes, young lady, five." The Boss sneered at them. "But two of them at my, you hear me, my, jurisdiction. One more and we will have the fucking FBI ridding our asses until the son of a fucking bitch that is doing this is either dead or between bars.
"How do you know they are all by the same suspect?" A young officer asked.
"We? Do you have a suspect to give me, what's your name?"
"Dean Smith, Sir. And no Sir, I don't. "
"Slash", asked Newstead, "would you care to clarify to our young officer here, Mr. Smith, why do we think all these kids are being murdered by the same oger?"
"Izzy and I had the opportunity to examine the corpses of the two that are under our jurisdction." Said Slash, getting up to have a closer look at the pictures on the screen.
"And?" Pressed Newstead.
"Males. Late teens, early twenties to the max, thin, but well fed and groomed, no evident drug use on either. Both homossexuals and both sex workers."
"There you have Mr, Smith?"
"One , more thing. " Said Slash. "They were both red heads."
The room fell silent.
"My fellows have send me their files. Slash and Izzy, this ball is in your back yard. You will contact our lovely coroner to arrange for the corpses to be translated under his domain, I have the order for it, and I want you both on it 24/7. You will examine the bodies with Mick, then I want profiles. One for the victms, even that we already may have some clues, and one for the killer. If we do have a serial one, I want him, do you all hear me? I want him, dead or alive, before the fucking FBI take over my department." He puntuacted his words with a punch on the table and the corp was dismissed.
Slash managed to catch Izzy alone as they were heading for the car. "Hey bro, what happened to your face?" Slash asked, strapping the seat belt on.
"Nothing."
"Are you not telling me?"
"Nope."
Slash let it slide. He knew from experience that when Izzy felt ready he would tell him whatever was bothering him.
They spent all day and best part of the night patrolling, asking questions, following the few leads they had, interrogating friends, family and roomates of the victims, until just after two in the morning, when Slash declared himself burnt and in need of a drink.
They entered The Killjoy by smashing their shoulders and pushing about, the place packed on a Friday night.
Steven welcomed them with a great smile as usual. "Izzy! The fuck happened to you? Did the missus beat you with the frying pan?" He chuckled as he served them their drinks.
"Shut the fuck up your big retard. Pour me another."
"We are on duty, Izzy." Slash saw fit to remind him, drinking his own whiskey slowly, savouring its woodiness, scanning the room with his heart hammering on his chest, searching with his eyes for a certain head of flaming red.
"The fuck we are," said Izzy, "it's two in the morning, I wanna drink and I'm gonna drink." He gulped down the remains of his glass and asked Steven for another. "Tell me Steven, where is Duff? I have a small bussines I need to sort with him."
"Holly shit!" Steven exclaimed, jumping up and down behind the bar, "it was blondie that smashed your face in?"
"Izz?" Asked Slash, " Duff did that to you?"
"Yeah yeah, it was him."
"But why, what happened?"
"I tried to fuck him." Izzy said, in a very low voice.
"Say that again?"
"I tried to fuck him, all right? Fuck him."
"You are fucking insane." Said Slash, lighting a cigarrette. " And he kicked your ass, uh?"
"I took him home, you know, after he finished his shift here, and everything was going peachy, and oh my God, Slash, the guy has a dick like a fucking porn star, thick black pubes contrast with his blonde hair and I ..."
"Shut up please, I don't need the info." Said Slash. " But I'll tell you one thing. You tried to treat him like a girl, and got what you deserved."
"And what the hell am I supposed to do?" Izzy rested his head on his hands. "I'm used to guys bending for me like that!" He cliqued his fingers.
"Not this one by the looks of it. You'll have to change your tactics, or say good bye to blondie."
Steven came back to the bar. "Duff is busy. Congressman Mustaine is giving a private party on the big stage downstairs."
"A private party?" Asked Slash.
"Yeah, politicians, actors, rich fuckers, you know the game dude."
Slash got up from the stool. " I'm going down. Are you coming, Izzy?"
"You fucking bet I am."
"You're not on the list, I cannot let you in without an invitation", smiled Steven.
Slash and Izzy put their badges on the bar. "How about this for an invitation uh?"
"Oh common guys, don't do that to me!" Said Steven, throwing his arms up.
"Off course we will, we are on duty, ain't we, Slash?" Said Izzy with a wink.
*****
Adriana was draped on the pole when they climbed down. Almost all seats were ocuppied, being by guests or by the girls or boys that worked on the lounge.
"Inspectors!" Smiled Mustaine when he saw them. "I didn't expect you, but feel welcome!"
"Thanks." Said Slash, sitting beside Mustaine.
There were champagne bottles that costed more than a thousand dollars a piece on the low table and Mustaine served Izzy and Slash by his own hand.
"You guys are not on duty, are you? I would't like to explain myself on what's going on here."
"No, off course not", said Izzy, taking a sip on the fine cristal flute gracing his hand.
"Lovely. Junior?" Mustaine asked.
David Ellefson, or Junior as the congressman liked to call him, was his right hand man and secretary, being a known secret that they were also a long time couple.
From behind Junior's seat, a small silver tray appeared, lines of cocaine already cut and neat on the mirrored surface. Junior politedly gave Izzy a gold plated straw, that, without hesitation sniffed two in a row, and passed the straw to Slash, that looked at it like it was an object from another planet. Izzy nudged him, and he bend down and sniffed one. Junior, however, was still looking at him expectantly so he sniffed a second one, mildly disgusted.
Duff sat between them,sniffed two big lines a served himself from the bottles on the table.
"That was a very good dance, Duff." Said Mustaine, suave. "Here,this is for you." He slipped a bunch of folded notes on the back of Duff's trousers.
"Thank you sir." Duff picked the money and stuffed it straight into his pocket before turning to Izzy. "How's you face?"
"Fucked up, can't you see?
Adriana's dance came to an end, and she sat, sweating, at Mustaine's lap. Slash could hear Izzy and Duff furious mutterings. "Why the fuck did you have to punch me like that?" Izzy asked, to wich Duff responded, "if you don't get the meaning of the word no, then somebody, someday, is bound to teach you a lesson. And you weren't complaining later were you? Wich your mouth full of my cock."
"Oh this is fucking unbeliavable", said Slash to himself, getting up. He didn't want or see anything else that night, but Mustaine made a grab for his arm.
"Don't leave yet inspector, the dish of the day is about to be served."
The lights went down and the music started. Slash had the feelimg his heart would fall out of his mouth, because he knew it, he just knew who would be on the stage when the lights turned again.
And he wasn't wrong on that. Axl, with a tiny golden jockstrap, his body entirely covered in gold paint, was on his knees on the floor, his head down, his head covering his face.
"This boy, Axl, the way he moves..." Whispered Mustaine to Slash, that couldn't look away from Axl, his slow, sensual, precise movements, swaying his hips like a snake to the music, "look, Slash, look how he liftes up his butt". Mustaine kept talking, and at the same time sliding his hand inside Adriana's panties, with little regard for his or anybodys privacy. The girl moaned. "You like him too,uh,sugar?" Adriana asserted, eyes heavy, "look at him, I bet his little hole is as sweet as a cherry and as tight as a virgin."
Slas was beggining to feel nauseous, piping hot sweat dripping down his neck.
"He's like a dream, don't you think, Slash?"
Slash didn't answer, accepting a fresh glass of champagne from Junior's hand.
"Tell me , detective, hows the investigation on the those boys case going?" Mustaine asked.
"Nothing yet, I'm afraid."
"What a shame, such young boys."
"Yes it is."
"I loook at Axl. Wouldn't be a shame if something were to happen to him?"
Slash felt like his body was on fire, and with a jump, he grabbed Mustaine by the neck, pushing him against the back wall, his gun against his temple. "What the fuck do you mean? Tell me, son of a bitch, what do you mean?"
Slash felt somethng cold on the back of his neck, then a click. "Put the gun down." Said Junior coldly.
"NO! If you get near him, I'll fucking kill you, d'ya hear me?" Slash screamed at Mustaine's face.
Izzy pulled his arm softly, " put the gun down bro."
Slash lowered the gun. Around him, the music kept going, but Axl wasn't dancing anymore, all eyes on him. He put the gun on its case and went to the parking lot, cursing himself. Izzy had the keys.
"Wait!"
Slash turned around, Axl was walking towards him, wrapped in a plush bath robe, the hood on his head
"Take my car keys, and wait for me inside, I'll be back in 5 minutes."
Slash pushed the keys button. On the other side of the lot, a flaming red Carrrera blipped. Inside,the engine purred under him like a lazy cat.
"Let's go."Axl said, throwing a little bag on the back seat. "Your friend offered to take Duff home."
"To my apartment , then?"
"Sure." Axl was taking off the paint from his face with a small towel, the sweats he had on stained eveywhere.
"Nice car."
"Thanks."
"You're doing well, I guess."
"I ca't complain. What happened in there?" Axl asked.
"I don't know. Lost my mind I guess."
"Don't take Mustaine's words too seriously. He's a jealous bitch."
"Jealous?" Asked Slash, with incedulity.
"Yes, jealous. I don't fuck for money."
"You don't?"
"I fuck for fun." Under the passing street lights, their eyes met. "And tonight I'd like to have fun with you."
TBC