Tropical Storm Ch. 00byAurora Black©
Author's Note: The main characters (Gabriel Knight, Grace Nakimura) are the property of Sierra / Vivendi Universal and Jane Jensen. Okay, moving on... This takes place after the events of GK2: The Beast Within, and it's part of a fanfic that I never finished.
I wrote this when I was 23, so it's rather rough compared to my later stuff. Enjoy.
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The soil was damp and cold from the late evening rain, allowing the men to dig into the ground so much easier. Their shovels were the only sounds audible in the secluded cemetery as they plunged deeper and deeper into the yielding earth. The men did not dare talk amongst themselves as they were still within earshot of the sleek, black limousine, which was no more than a few yards away from the grave's site.
For the best body-disposal convenience, I suppose. Fucking twisted bitch. The poor bastard's not even dead yet, one of the diggers thought as he fought down a wave of rage and nausea. He inwardly cursed the woman who sat in the back of the luxury car, her window rolled down to watch the carrying out of her dirty work with extreme satisfaction on her beautiful features. She met the man's eyes, and her brow furrowed.
"Get back to work, God damn it! We've got a schedule to keep!"
The man reluctantly went back to his tasks, again cursing her and praying for forgiveness from God for what was about to take place.
Inside the limo, a corner of the woman's painted mouth turned upward in a brief smile. Passing a hand through her short blonde hair, she inched closer to the bound and unconscious man with whom she shared the backseat. She climbed onto his jean-clad lap, taking a closer look at his face.
You're mine now, Gabriel Knight. I wonder what your little wife is going to say about that...
Intoxicated by the feelings of exhilaration and complete control, the woman leaned forward, grasped Gabriel's earlobe in her perfect teeth, and tugged gently. He let out a soft groan of pain and stirred, slowly returning to consciousness.
"Wake up, love."
Growing bolder, she flicked her tongue against his sensually pouted lips.
His eyes opened with the contact, and he stiffened when he realized where he was and with whom. Automatically he tried to move away from the woman, and he was stunned to find that his arms and legs were firmly secured.
Anger flashed in his eyes, and his voice was hoarse and hard as he spoke.
"Untie me. Right now."
A false laugh bubbled from the woman's throat.
"Oh, I'm afraid that I can't do that, darling. I have too much at stake to let you go now, and besides... I'm enjoying the experience of having you tied up like this too much to free you."
She rubbed herself aggressively against his lap to prove her point, and Gabriel felt only pure disgust and loathing at her touch.
Gabriel didn't give a damn about her enjoyment. He just wanted to go back to the hotel, where Grace was no doubt waiting for him to return. He hated everything about the situation that he had found himself in, and he mentally reviewed the last events of the evening before he blacked out.
He remembered the bass beats and the dark lighting of the gothic club, and the sour, foreign taste in his gin and tonic that had quickly overpowered him.
He felt his face explode with angry heat at the realization.
"You drugged me, you sick bitch!"
His hands continued to work on his restraints, and he tried his best to distract her while he felt them gradually loosen.
A wicked smile spread across her heavily made-up face. She took his head in her hands and rubbed her chest against his face.
"Such NASTY language! Didn't your mother ever wash your mouth with SOAP? Such a BAD boy... the BEST kind in my opinion. What on EARTH were you doing with Grace... she was NEVER the type to..."
Gabriel had heard and endured enough. He fought back with the only weapon that he had at his disposal. He rose up from the seat as far as he could, and thrust his head against her, knocking her off him. She landed on the floor of the limo with a thud, and he continued to challenge her as she panted and looked at him in a temporary daze.
"And what about you, damn it? Huh? Didn't your daddy ever give you enough attention, little girl? Have you always hated men so much, you cheap whore, that you have no choice but to play sick and sad little games with them while they belong to OTHER WOMEN? No wonder you have to drug a man in order to try and get laid, because you're nothing but a fucking lunatic!"
The blonde was livid with rage as she scrambled from the floor to the seat across from Gabriel. A split second later, she returned to her former position with an expression of sheer madness and triumph. Gabriel didn't need to look at her hand to know that she was holding a gun, and his mind returned to Grace.
They had been married for only three weeks, and he knew that by now she would be worried about his whereabouts and safety.
Oh God, baby. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me for getting myself into this.
Gabriel didn't dare show one measure of his distress to the blonde woman, who was clearly expecting to him to plead for his life. He wanted to kick the smug smile off her face, and he prayed for the strength to live through the night.
The blonde witch was very impatient. "Well? What do you have to say now?"
The loud click of the gun's hammer resounded within the limo's interior as she cocked it just inches from his face.
Gabriel speared her with his eyes. "What the hell are you waiting for? Do it! It will only give you yet another crime to answer for, and the police will absolutely LOVE the lead that Grace will give them about you when I don't come back."
He spat out the words, his blood roaring in his ears. "It would give me great pleasure to get the bullet, so you could finally be put out of my misery. Why don't you save a bullet to use on yourself later? You'd do the world a huge favor, and besides... you'll need it!"
Her eyes flashed in the darkness as she grit her teeth hard, uncocking the pistol. Before Gabriel knew what was happening, he felt an explosive blow against the side of his head. He slumped sideways on the leather seat, unconscious.
The woman eyed the trail of blood that dripped from Gabriel's temple with a mixture of satisfaction and anxiety. She was breathing heavily and sweating hard. She backed away from Gabriel to sit on the opposite seat, fumbling in her purse for a handkerchief. She found one and furiously dabbed her face and neck to remove the moisture. After checking her make up, she peered out of the window to see how her men were faring.
"How's it going out there? Someone talk to me!"
"We're finishing now."
She opened the limo door with a laugh, stepping out into the night.
"It's about damn time. Hurry up and get this son of a bitch in the ground before he wakes up again! I have a widow to make out of Grace Nakimura Knight!"
The men dropped their shovels and headed for the limo, where they picked up Gabriel. The blonde eyed them with pleasure.
My men, always able to do whatever I tell them with no hesitation. Well, almost. If my usual charms don't work, all I have to do is threaten them with whatever means I need and everything is as right as rain.
She laughed at her private joke as she felt the rain pour onto her body. She didn't mind it one bit, because the thrill of the kill was to be hers once more.
What a shame, she observed as the men walked towards her with the knocked-out Gabriel in tow. I never got to know what he was like in bed. He looks like he could make a girl lose her mind between the sheets. Oh, well...
"So long, Gabriel Knight. It could have been fun."
She stood nearby as the men continued carrying Gabriel to a wooden makeshift casket, which was next to the hole in the earth. She felt the familiar warmth in her belly as she gleefully watched her hired thugs first place the casket bottom in the earth, and then Gabriel. She inched closer as one of the men reached for the casket's lid and began to place it on top to seal Gabriel inside.
"Wait! Hold on a second!"
Adrenaline rushed through her veins at the realization that the final moments were at hand. Her heart pounded in a wild rhythm as an almost orgasmic sensation coursed through her body. These were the moments that she lived for; an insatiable craving that required death's dark embrace. Fascinated, she stared into the deep hole as if she wanted to memorize every detail; the shape of the man within, the contrast of his pale skin and red hair against the black of the soil.
It's funny when they say "till death do us part" in this case; because here he is in the ground, and Grace is nowhere to be found! How ironic! He pledged his life to her, and now his death will belong to me.
Tearing her eyes away from the sight, the woman patted her coat pockets in search of something. With a cruel smile, she recovered her embroidered handkerchief from the tight leather, and she couldn't stop giggling as she tossed it into the open grave.
"Goodbye, my love! Here is a token of my affection to take with you to the next world!"
She clutched her hands to her middle until her laughter subsided, and then she turned on her heel, returning to the limo.
"Carry on, boys! Perhaps we can all go for a drink later? Or two, or twenty? It doesn't matter to me..."
The casket was nailed shut, and the dirt shoveled into place.
"God help us all," the men murmured.
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Gabriel awoke to complete darkness. His eyes were wide open, yet he saw nothing. His arms lay at his sides, and he experimentally flexed his muscles. He was no longer bound. He turned his head to the side, and winced with pain.
Where the hell am I?
He tried to raise his arms upward, but they met a hard surface. He then tried to spread his arms out from the sides, and again something prevented further movement. Fighting back a wave of panic, Gabriel reached a hand into his jeans pocket and took out a lighter, which he always carried with him for emergencies. A flick of the wheel brought forth the light, and he froze at the realization that he was buried alive.
Gabriel's breathing began to pick up speed as his reason melted away, and he felt nothing but the need to escape to the surface. He screamed as the primal urge for survival took hold within him. He beat his fists against the lid, and tried to kick downward with his booted feet. Nothing helped.
Calm down, Knight. You're wasting your air. Take small breaths, and no more heroics. Think, damn it!
Gabriel thought again of Grace, and wondered what she was doing at that moment. He felt a sick feeling in his stomach at how easily he got into the witch's trap, and he wished that he could be with his wife instead of six feet under, his air measured in mere minutes.
Gracie... why did this have to happen to us? Why are you now without a husband?
His eyes began to water, and he regretted wasting so much air in his panicked frenzy. He began to whisper the Lord's Prayer softly, his body gradually feeling weightless as the minutes passed. He felt as if he were floating, and he felt the overwhelming urge to sleep. He no longer had the power to resist.
He began to hallucinate from the lack of air, indulging in a fantasy where Grace was holding him in her arms. In his mind, her breath was warm and sweet. He could smell the fragrance of her hair and feel the softness of her skin against his face.
He moaned in grief as he began to gasp for air; the ultimate sleep was almost upon him. His lungs heaved in vain, and his last words were a low whisper. "I love you, Gracie."
Gabriel surrendered to the siren's call of sleep, and he allowed the everlasting darkness to envelop him.