Battle-Hardened, War Weary Ch. 04

"What did I tell you, huh?" the officer growled. As a taunt, the officer rubbed Ryan's face into the hood, in a cruel manner.

Ryan groaned in pain. There were sharp pains stabbing his forehead and the bridge of his nose. He could taste blood inside of his mouth. His hands clasped the officer's wrist, in an effort to have his face freed.

"Don't you dare fucking touch me!" the officer shouted at him.

The cop lifted Ryan's face off of the car and slammed his head into the hood again. Ryan's hands released the officer's wrist and then grabbed onto his injured face. The cop's hand let go of the handful of red hair and grabbed onto the back of Ryan's neck.

"Now let's try this again, put your hands behind your back!" the officer yelled into Ryan's back while the restrained man continued to cry out from the pain.

"I advise you to do what Officer Black says, son!" the other cop suggested, as he stood by the side of the Lincoln Navigator. "The last thing you want to do is get this nigga mad," the officer chuckled.

Reluctantly, Ryan arranged his hands behind his back and crossed his wrists. He heard the frisking officer laugh. Then, he felt cold metal clasp onto the skin of his wrists.

"Now, that's a good boy!" stated Officer Black, in an unsettling manner.

Ryan was escorted to the unmarked, police car that was double parked in the street. Officer Black instructed him to sit in the backseat of the vehicle. He followed instructions and did not provide protest. Once he was inside of the car, the cop slammed the door shut and then walked away from the squad car. Ryan watched the stranger walk over to the rented Lincoln Navigator and over to his partner. The two men started up a conversation, which Ryan wasn't privy to.

The officers eventually returned to the car. The hairless, officer sat behind the stirring wheel while his partner sat next to him, in the front passenger seat. Ryan was expecting one of the officers to say something. They were silent instead.

Thirty-eight minutes later...

"Where in the fuck are you taking me?" Ryan shouted at the two officers who sat in the front of the car.

Ryan believed he should've been at the nearest police precinct by now. Instead, he still sat in the backseat of the car while the officers appeared to be driving around Queens. It was as if the cops were lost and they didn't know how to return to the stationhouse.

"Shut the fuck up!" the driving officer shouted to Ryan. "Just sit back there, white boy and enjoy the ride!"

"Do you know who the fuck that I am?" Ryan growled in anger. "I am Ryan Whittler! Do any of you assholes know about the Whittler family?"

"Oooh, did you hear that, Yellow..." Officer Black said to his partner while taunting Ryan. "He is a part of the Whittler family! Ooh, he is a part of the Whittler family!"

"My grandfather—

The officers interrupted Ryan's threat with their loud and raucous laughter. Ryan felt his anger reach a boiling point at the two cops. He was disrespected by these two enough.

Once the laughter died down, Officer Yellow said to his prisoner, "Do yourself a favor, Kid, by shutting the fuck up!"

Ryan felt the vehicle come to a stop. Then, he heard the driver cut off the engine's ignition. Immediately, he searched for any visible landmarks that were located outside of the car. He glimpsed out of every available window that was in the posterior of the car. Ryan saw nothing, but darkness. There wasn't any lighting from a street lamp, an electric store sign or from a building. It was completely pitch black.

'Fuck... Fuck... Fuck...,' he silently cursed at himself. He was angry at himself for not paying attention during the journey to this mysterious place. Thanks to his bout of anger and his constant goading to the arresting officers, he didn't pay attention and follow the car's directions. 'Fuck, where am I? Why are we here?'

The small bit of his brain, the agitator and the instigator, answered the question for him. In his mind's eye, Ryan was shown images of his slaying by the two officers. His mind played a moving picture of Ryan being helped out the vehicle and then forced to walk a few paces in front of the vehicle. He was forced to kneel on the cold ground and with his back facing the pair of cops. He was shot. His body collapsed on the ground. Then, there were images of his corpse being left in an isolated field while the cops pulled off and leave it there.

The level of terror formed and it rendered him immobile. Ryan's heart started to powerfully beat against his chest. A bulge grew inside of his throat. The body's temperature increased to the point, where he felt stifled. A strong case of nausea plagued him. His lungs felt like they were failing to function. He was panting. His eyeballs burned with unshed tears and his vision blurred.

The police officers exited the vehicle, but they didn't stray too far from the sedan. They stood next to the car, in between the opened doors and the cabin. With the doors opened, the freezing and thick air entered the car. The winter air swallowed all of the warm air that was inside of the car and left the interior freezing. Along with the bitter air, there was the stench of raw sewage. The odor stuck close to the air as if they were companions.

Ryan's already sensitive, stomach gurgled at the moment his nostrils were introduced to the foul scent. The queasiness in his body became stronger. He frantically tried to break his hands free from the handcuffs, so he could cover his lower face. He was unable to free his hands; instead he inadvertently nicked and sliced the flesh on his wrists.

The sound of whistling caused Ryan to stop with his struggles. He stared ahead, at the windshield and outside. He listened to the whistling. It was a tune. The tone was loud and the clarity was sharp. The melody was familiar to him. He searched his memory. The process distracted Ryan from wallowing in his fear. He finally recognized the tune as being "Row-Row-Row Your Boat".

All of a sudden, a bright light was shone in Ryan's face. The light blinded his vision and caused a discomfort. A sharp ache struck his eyes and it traveled up to his skull. "AAAHHH SHIT!" he shouted out during the pain. He turned his face away from the offending light. He found relief in the small sliver of darkness that was inside of the car, he blinked his eyes, in hopes of sending away the pain.

The car's door opened. Ryan was first greeted by a pair of hands. One hand grabbed onto a tuft of Ryan's orange-red hair while the other hand clasped onto the collar of his coat.

"NO!" screamed Ryan. He pulled his body away from the opened part of the vehicle. "NO!" He continued to shout out in protest as he scrambled away from the officer. He ended up traveling over to the left side of the car, to the area where the door was still closed. He leaned his upper body against the door while his lower body kicked at the officer. He was not going to die without fighting. He wasn't going to go walk to his death willingly.

"GOT-DAMN IT" he heard the officer scream out. "OFFICER YELLOW, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE! THIS STUPID MOTHERFUCKER WON'T GET OUT OF THE CAR!"

"What-the-fuck, man!" was heard from outside of the car.

Ryan felt his support system move and he lost his balance. His upper body fell backwards. He realized that the door that he was leaning on was pulled open. When he thought that he was about to land on the cold, hard ground, he was caught by a pair of hands. The hands grabbed a hold onto his shoulders. Ryan gazed up at the person. It was the other officer, the bald one.

The officer gave Ryan a glare and then pulled him out of the vehicle with one forceful yank. He handled Ryan as if he was a large, heavy and rolled up layer of carpet. The officer allowed him to land harshly on the ground. There was a loud thud upon impact.

"UUUUGGGHHH!" wailed Ryan, as his back, shoulders, arms and ass ached. He gingerly rolled onto his left side and pressed his face into the earth. The ground was hard and cold.

"Get your punk ass up!" the officer commanded, before he gave Ryan a swift kick into his right shoulder blade.

Ryan groaned in pain. Then, there was another kick into the delicate part of his back. His back arched against the hard surface and he screamed out while he ached.

"Hurry up!" the officer yelled.

Ryan obeyed his enforcer's command. Gradual and careful, he managed to stand up on his two feet. He was grabbed by the cop and was shoved into the direction of where the light was shining. He was able to walk a few feet before he remembered the imaginary scenario that his mind conjured up. His fear returned.

With cowardice stuck in his heart, Ryan decided to run for safety. Rather than walk into the direction that he was ordered to walk, he changed his course. He veered to the right and began running.

'Run... Run... Run...,' his mind chanted as he ran in an unknown direction.

He ran away from the only light source and was soon immersed into a sea of darkness. Oblivious to his current environment, he continued to run. His feet landed into a puddle. He stopped running. Ryan had gone to step out of the puddle, when his feet stepped into another one. He altered his direction and ended up stepping into another puddle, which was deeper. Its depth was deeper than Ryan expected and he ends up falling in. He learns that it is not a puddle, but it is really a pond. His whole body except for his head and neck is submerged in the foul-smelling water. The thought of his clothes' conditions entered his mind, as frivolous as the thought was.

"Officer Yellow, look at this dumb motherfucker!"

The statement had come from Officer Black.

Soon, there was another source of light shining on Ryan's face. This time, the light wasn't as harsh and as bright at the first one.

"Get the hell out of the Bay, you dumb asshole!" Officer Black ordered.

Ryan was able to pull himself out of the bay, despite having his hands restrained behind his back. The two police officers each grabbed one of his arms and pulled him further along. They held onto his biceps as they walked back to the clearing that was set up. There was a caravan of automobiles that were strategically parked in a semi-circle. The vehicles ranged from sedans to SUVs and each had their headlights turned on. Ryan realized that the bright light that shone in his face before was a pair of headlights. He was shoved into the epicenter of the caravan. He lost his balance and collapsed onto the ground. There was laughter.

"This stupid mother—

"Hey, Rich Boy, get up!"

Ryan managed to climb back onto his feet.

"So, is this the piece of shit that you told us about?"

It came from another man's voice. Ryan recognized the first two voices as being the two officers, who picked him up. The third person was another person. From where Ryan stood the voice had come from behind him. He shuffled around and stared at the other vehicles. He saw shadowed figures that were standing between each car.

"Don't look this way, you piece of shit!"

"Who are you looking at, White Boy?"

"I advise you turn your head away, Pretty Boy!"

"Oooh, I cannot wait to get a hold of your ass, Boy!"

"I'm going to enjoy beating your—

Ryan shuddered as he listened to each mysterious individual yell innocuous-sounding threats and intimidations at him. He was scared.

A bright red light flashed before his eyes and pain burned at his left cheek. Once the light disappeared and the pain turned into a throbbing, Ryan realized he was lying on the ground.

"OOOOOOHHH, DID YOU JUST SEE THAT SHIT?"

The declaration of awe had come from one of the shadowed figures, Ryan concluded. He made a slight movement and received a kick into his solar plexus, as a result. He gasped and his back concaved upon impact. His hair was grabbed and then pulled, so that his face was pointing to the sky. His eyes opened into slits. He didn't see the attacker's face, but indeed saw his fist. There were bursts of pain, as his assailant let out a succession of punches on his face. The attacker let him go and his head landed on the ground.

"OOOOOHHH!" The taunt had filled the night's air.

Ryan was having difficult time breathing out of his nose. The back of his throat was filling up with his blood. The copper-tasting substance was clogging up his nasal passages. He let out a gurgle and then a series of coughs. He rolled onto his left side and tried to spit out the substance. As he was expelling blood from out of his mouth, his eyes caught the sight of a pair of feet that rested in front of his face.

"So, is this the raping, piece of shit that Logan told you about, Officer Yellow?"

'I knew,' his mind muttered, as his eyes captured the vision of a foot about to crash onto his face.

Ryan soon learned about the other police officers. The officer who kicked him was a cop named 'Officer White'. Ryan tried to glimpse at the assaulting officer, but he was able to see his facial features. The headlights was too far away. Officer White kicked and pounded on Ryan, with ferocity behind each strike. He couldn't protect himself properly. He couldn't throw himself into a fetal position to protect his sensitive parts. He tried to move away, but the cop would pull him back. Officer White laughed at his attempts. His hands were handcuffed behind his back and his hands were twisted at angle where it was difficult to move them.

Once Officer White was finished pummeling on Ryan, Officer Orange had taken his place. Ryan was lying on the ground. He greeted Ryan, as if they were co-workers who have just met. He helped the battered man to his feet. The cop introduced himself and then asked Ryan about how he felt.

Ryan listened to Office Orange's inquiry. In his battered and slightly disoriented state, he thought the question was odd. His slightly swollen eyes gawked at the cop. He distrusted the authority figure. Officer Orange repeated his question. His tone of voice sounded light and kind. Ryan opened his battered mouth to answer the cop's question, when he powerfully punched on his face. The blow caused his knees to buckle. He was about to collapse onto the ground, when his descent was halted by a pair of hands. Officer Orange's hands clasped onto Ryan's biceps and used his strength to keep Ryan's battered body up.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the cop clucked with his head shaking. "We haven't finished yet."

Officer Orange's fists focused on Ryan's torso. His hands pounded and pummeled against clothed covered flesh. Ryan grunted and groaned, from the pain. His body kept folding over and dropping to the ground. The cop would grab onto him and yank him to his feet. With Ryan's wheezing, bloodied and weak, the cop grabbed a hold of Ryan's trench coat and forced the man into the waiting arms of Officer Green.

Officer Green took a hold of Ryan's collar and kneed him in the lower gut. He loudly gasped in pain and collapsed onto his knees. The cop circled the kneeling Ryan twice before doling out punches. He collapsed onto the ground. He felt a hard object press against his chest. His eyes saw that it was a knee. Then he saw a fist flying towards his face.

"Your turn," Officer Green stated with a snarl, after he was done assaulting Ryan. He removed his knee off of the whimpering Ryan and stood up.

Ryan loudly groaned. He wished for death. He wished that Officer Black and Officer Yellow did kill him. He was weak and he was in pain. The pain was excruciating. Every time he let out an exhale, his chest ached and his ribcage released stabbing pain. More importantly, he was scared. At this point in his assault, his eyes were swollen to the point that his eyelids formed thin slits. He saw obscured shapes, light and colors.

"Oh, why don't you take a look at him?" Ryan heard as he lied on the ground. The voice was decorated with an Australian accent. "He looks like shit! I'm not going to fight this man while his hands are handcuffed behind his back!"

"If you want to fight him, Crocodile Dundee, go right ahead! Here..." There was laughter. "Take off the cuffs and go right ahead and fight them!"

Ryan felt hands on his arms. The grip was gentle. He was guided onto his stomach. The handcuffs were unlocked and they were removed. His shoulder blades screamed out in relief. His arms moved to his sides and limply lied on the ground.

"Now, get up," the officer demanded. "I don't fight men, who are lying down like they're wounded dogs, so get up to your feet!"

Ryan continued to lie on the ground. He heard the officer's instruction, but he ignored them.

"Get up," the officer screamed. He gave Ryan a nudge with his foot. The officer heard the limp man groan. "I will treat you like I would treat a wounded dog! Get up or I will shoot you!"

Ryan made slight movement, which led to a series of movements. He eventually made it to his feet. His body trembled with exertion and from the freezing cold. He wants to go home. He wants to take a bath in his tub. He wants to drink himself into an alcohol-induced trance. He wants to forget about this horrible night.

"There you go, Mate," the officer said to him. "Do you want to take off that coat? You can't fight with that coat on."

"Please," whimpered Ryan. He was begging. He wants to live to see another day.

"What was that, Mate? I couldn't hear you."

"Please," sobbed Ryan, which led to a few more.

His cries garnered laughter from his attackers.

"Please, let me go!" he pleaded. "Please, I can pay you!"

There was more laughter.

"Oh, Mate, if you think that those pitiful tears is going to prevent this ass kicking from happening, then you're sadly mistaken! I bet you that you didn't show that young lady any mercy, am I correct?" The officer's inquiry caused Ryan's sobbing to increase in volume. "Right?" the officer asked. The bloodied man didn't speak. He cried. "Right?" The man continued to sob. "RIGHT?" the Australian police officer shouted at him. Ryan slowly nodded his head. "That's right, you didn't show her any mercy, you rabid dog! You held her down and you raped her repeatedly! I bet you enjoyed watching the fear in her eyes!"

Ryan listened to the Australian cop's words. His words inflicted pain to him, as well.

"You enjoyed watching her eyes glaze over and watch the hopelessness crept into them..."

In Ryan's mind, there were images of Kali, during their sexual encounters. Her facial expressions were the same: emotionless with her eyes lacking depth.

"No," Ryan sobbed as he shook his head. "No, I didn't—

"Yes, you did," the cop told him. "It doesn't matter now. Now, take off your coat!"

Ryan stood in his spot, crying and trembling. Despite not seeing, he could only hear and listen. He heard the laughing. He listened to his haggard breathing. There were the sounds of the wind and the traffic that was miles away.

"Here, Mate, let me help you!"

The officer walked over to Ryan. He stood in front of the battered man. The officer untied the sash of Ryan's coat belt. Then, he unbuttoned the coat and pushed the article off of his shoulders. Laughter had broken out amongst the men.

One of the other men shouted out, "What the fuck is he wearing?" There was more merriment amongst the attackers.

"What kind of fairy, faggot shit is this?"

There was laughter.

Ryan heard the cop that stood in front of him laugh. "What the hell is wrong with you, Mate?" The officer touched the black, satin corset that Ryan wore around his waist. "Are you wearing a pair of stockings and a garter belt as well?" There was more laughter.

"Would you like to find out, Officer Red?" taunted another cop.

"Fuck you, you cock sucker!" stated the Australian officer.

"That's what I said to your mother last night!" There was loud and raucous laughter.