Date: Fri, 31 Jul 2015 04:16:12 +0800
From: Ben Chen <benwritesstuff@gmail.com>
Subject: Covert Forces - Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real-life
events or people is entirely coincidental.

Please do not copy or distribute this story without the author's prior
consent.

If you have anything against gay men with powers, sexual content, violence,
gore, or swearing, then this story won't be for you.


Covert Forces

Chapter 1 - set to Clarion Call by Delphic
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=12qObUZo7xM

It might've been cold and dim, but not even the blustering winds that
buffet New York's streets could dampen Vic's spirits. He was strolling with
light feet, almost bouncing even - as much as one could in freezing weather
and wet streets anyway. It'd been a productive day of sightseeing - the
Staten Island ferry, Wall Street and 9/11 Memorial, topped off with
delicious pastrami sandwiches and some dolled-up artisanal hot dogs at some
otherwise forgettable hipster bar. Cliche, yes, but not without reason. As
the sun set and the otherwise dark skies were now illuminated with the glow
of lights, he prepared to wrap up a great first day in the Big Apple.

Now, it was time to hit the town and have a bit of fun, maybe even get
physical with a hot dude. And boy, was there a lot to choose from - sexy
men of all tones, builds and demeanours in this most international of
cities. Licking his lips a little at this prospect, Vic saw a bar that
seemed interesting and headed for it. It wasn't that late, so he could
afford to poke around a little and maybe stay a while, get a feel for its
vibe before checking out some other place.

The bar was actually fairly big, and delivered some polish and quirk to the
standard industrial concept, through interesting lighting choices, pop art
pieces and charming wood furnishings that clearly came from some yard
sale. Some bog standard Hed Kandi disco remix was blaring through the
speakers, which could still be heard through the crowd for now.

He did a quick scan through the crowd, and... it was alright. There were a
few cuties, but the general vibe he got was the sort of cynical posturing
that seemed to define the mainstream gay experience. Then again, he could
still go for a quick hookup at worst. He decided to settle into the bar,
pondering its beverage options as he stared at its shelves. He could feel
some eyes bearing into him with lust as he considered his options, which
made him smirk with a bit of glee inside. But truthfully, he didn't intend
to pose or bait - he was just going to take his time, was all. So what was
he feeling like having today? Bacardi on the rocks? A Bloody Mary? Or maybe
just some microbrew with a hint of elderflowers?

As Vic gave the subject further thought, he caught someone moving into the
bar from the corner of his eye, and his resolve to take it slow today was
instantly smashed. God, this man was stunning. He looked like your standard
cornfed American hunk, with a well-defined build slightly larger than
average, and neatly-styled short blonde hair. He had a square jaw that
added 10 points of manliness to his appearance, but large blue eyes that
could turn innocent or sexy - maybe both at the same time. He also appeared
rather awkward, decked in labels from head to toe and looking way too
expensive for the setting, including a tight-fitting pair of trousers and
leather shoes that Vic would kill for. He certainly looked modelesque, just
not right for the bar at all. Not that it mattered, because most people in
the room would jump his bones regardless.

There was a tinge of uncertain nervousness in his eyes, which drew both
amusement and pity from Vic. This new arrival was already fascinating him a
lot in mere seconds, and now he wanted to find out more. His usual policy
was not to fuck with white boys, but he would have to hypocritically make
an exception in this case.

Vic could feel the rumblings in the room that this newcomer drew; he would
need to act fast, to intercept others he knew would be throwing themselves
like lemmings. As the new meat sat at the bar counter, he smoothly
maneuvered himself onto the only adjacent seat, ignoring the killer glares
he was surely receiving. Adorably, the other party didn't seem to register
his presence, as his vision was fixed firmly on the bar's shelves. Vic then
cleared his throat, eliciting a startled response. Those gorgeous eyes
turned on him, registering some form of astonishment that he couldn't quite
decipher. "So, what's a nice boy like you doing in this part of town?"

The other party remained speechless, his jaw literally dropping a little as
his throat appeared to tighten. Vic now wondered if he had messed up
somewhere. "Sorry, bruv. I seem to have surprised you?"

"Ah, no!" came the hurried response in a light Southern drawl. "I didn't
mean to be rude. It's just that - well, uh - I didn't expect you to speak
with that accent." Vic could've rolled his eyes at that statement, but this
man seemed so genuinely embarrassed that he knew no malicious intent was
meant.

"Yes," he chuckled, "I am in fact British, much as it may shock you."

"I hear that," the blonde replied, relaxing a little as he saw that Vic
wasn't really peeved. "I hope you don't think I'm stupid, and I know
there's more to England than London, but your accent sounds pretty standard
British to me."

Vic nodded. "I am in fact a Londoner, although I was raised in one of the
suburbs, so the native accent is a bit different. But I sort of conditioned
myself to sound like your standard consumer of tea and crumpets."

"That's neat," his sexy companion was smiling a bit now, although he was
still tense. "I live here in New York, although I only arrived about a year
ago. I was based in Savannah before that." He then held out a firm hand for
Vic to shake. "Name's Alexander, by the way. But yes, that's darned fussy,
so you can call me Alex instead."

"Why would I not call you Alex? You're bang on, it's very last century. I'm
Victor, and most of my friends call me Vic for short." He flashed his best
megawatt smile as he shook Alex's strong hand. When their hands made
contact, he felt this surge of warmth and strength flow through him, a
feeling he didn't know he could tap into. Vic wasn't a sentimental person,
but images of him kissing Alex, getting naked and intimate, were filling
his head. His heartbeat was slow but pronounced, and it wasn't lust that he
was experiencing, but peace and content. A bond between the two of them,
that would become unshakeable and important.

He looked at Alex, who also seemed to react a bit oddly, and they withdrew
their hands hastily. "Wow, what was that?" he thought to himself. "Whatever
it was, that was strange... but good. And way too fast." The level of
intimacy embedded in his head was too much. He was off to a good start with
the new hot guy, but instalove and mushy feelings was taking it a bit too
far. Besides, there was that whole 'no white dudes' rule he had which
complicated things.

They were both silent for a bit; then this time, Alex was the one who acted
quick to break the awkwardness. "Nice to meet you, Vic. So what brings you
to New York?"

"Ah, I needed to take a break from work, so I'm burning some of my
well-earned pay across the pond. It's actually my first visit here, and
I've wanted to do this for so long. I just flew in last night too!"

"Sweet." Alex blushed lightly, which Vic felt tilted him towards the
'boyish' end of the attractiveness spectrum, as opposed to 'manly'. Not
that he'd refuse Alex either way, regardless. "Honestly, I feel like a
visitor to this city too. There's just so much to experience, and I also
haven't done much exploring, which is totally my fault."

"I guess we're both tourists here, then," Vic grinned as he raised his hand
for the bartender. "We should drink to that."

Over a couple of microbrewed apple ciders, Vic and Alex got to find out
more about each other. Both men were 23 this year, and were doing well in
their careers after graduating from prestigious universities. Vic was an
underwriter who studied in Oxford, while Alex was a project engineer who
decided to 'try someplace else' after graduating from UT Austin. Other than
that, they seemed to enjoy very different things, from the usual types of
football to music, TV, books and even food. Despite all this, though, and a
million warning bells that rang in his head, Vic found himself liking
Alex's company. The man was warm and friendly once he really started
opening up, and came across as being genuine and unaffected. The way his
face changed when he smiled like a puppy was especially endearing.

"So, yeah," Vic wondered as he fiddled with his half empty bottle a little,
"As I was asking at the start, I guess you don't come here much? You're a
bit overdressed for this place."

"No, you're right," Alex nodded before gulping down another mouthful of
cider. "It's my first time in this part of town, actually. This really
isn't my usual scene. Told you I haven't seen much of New York, so I was
trying to get outta my comfort zone."

"Okay, now I'm intrigued," Vic scratched his chin with curiosity. "So
what's your 'usual scene' then? The frat douche brigade?"

"Perceptive, eh?" Alex laughed a little bitterly. "You're right
though. Just look at me, I look like I should be sitting in some
psuedo-classy joint, claiming to be a gentleman and acting like trash. I
even have fucking khakis on! God, I need a new wardrobe."

"Look on the bright side, those khakis are a real tight fit," teased Vic,
"And at least you're not wearing an oversized polo shirt. Seriously. Y'all
may get a shit ton of family money, but you don't have to inherit grandpa's
dress sense too."

"OK, that's a good one," Alex's eyes crinkled, which made Vic's heart swoon
even further, "Real talk though, I came here to get away from all that
bullshit, have a good evening. And it's been fun hanging out with you."

"Geez, I did nothing but talk a bit about myself. But I'm glad you enjoyed
that."

"Hmm, look at it this way. It isn't just about what you say, but how you
say it. I've never thought of jerk chicken or grime music before, but the
way you describe it, and the passion with which you enthuse - it makes me
want to try it as well, know more about your world. I want to rave along
with you, have that Scotch bonnet taste exploding in my mouth with juicy
chicken. Does that make sense?"

"That's good you feel that way! It's always been my life's dream to be an
inspirational icon like Ellen DeGeneres. Or Wendy WIlliams."

 "Now, I think Wendy Williams might be a stretch," Alex smirked, sticking
his tongue out playfully. Vic narrowed his eyes, which just made Alex laugh
instead. "Oh no you didn't!"

"I'm sorry, Vic. Too much?"

"Naw, it's all good. And honestly, you've been fun as well. Way less of a
twat then I thought you'd be."

Now it was Alex's turn to pass an exaggerated death glare, although he did
seem genuinely annoyed, while Vic put on his best shit-eating grin. "I
see. Would've preferred if you said 'totally not a twat', but I'll live."

"Well, most people are complete twats, so 'not really being one' is already
pretty good in my opinion."

"Touché. I was pegging you as 'not a twat', but these past few lines may
have me change my mind." Alex was playing it off as a joke, but Vic could
tell that he was still peeved.

"Me and my big mouth again," Vic thought wearily. He'd lost the plot and
been too abrasive to a guy he'd barely met. There still was a small voice
in his head that thought maybe Alex overreacted, but it was better to
apologise anyway. "Alex, I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have called you a
twat. I was trying to be jokey, but that's no excuse."

Alex seemed to ponder for a bit, drinking a little sip of his cider, before
he spoke again. "Don't worry about it. Frankly, yes - that was rude. It's
your style though, and I might be too uptight about these things."

"No man, it's not you," protested a chastened Vic. "I think it's fairly
accepted you don't go around calling acquaintances 'twats'."

"Indeed it isn't," Alex quipped wryly. "Bless your heart, I thought Brits
were supposed to have manners?"

"You clearly haven't watched Trainspotting or The Inbetweeners."

"No, I haven't. Maybe I should though." Alex had calmed down and was back
to his usual smiling self. "See, that's the thing. You've opened my eyes to
a new world out there. Granted, I could've just Googled or whatever and
learn more about stuff, but sometimes you need someone to guide you along
and get you started. In fact, I'm thinking... Hmm, you might find my
intended proposal to be intrusive, but I reckon it's worth pitching."

"Go for it. I'm all ears," Vic declared. He wasn't quite sure what he
thought about Alex yet. It was positive, for sure, but there was so much
about this man he had to decipher. Regardless, Vic had a good feeling about
how things were going.

"You'll be staying for about a week more, right? Would you be interested in
hanging out over the weekend at least?" There was a tone of rising
excitement in Alex's voice.  "I'm probably not the best person to be your
guide, but I do have some local places I love, plus great places I've heard
of and always wanted to visit. Like you said earlier, we're both tourists
in this town, and I'd love to hear your take on things here as well."

"Ah, I see what this is. Your brand of Southern hospitality, eh?" Of
course, Vic knew that Alex wasn't entirely innocent about his proposal, but
he didn't mind having a travelling companion of sorts.

"Damn right. Please let me know If I'm being disruptive though, and I
promise you'll be left alone," Alex offered, with a slightly hopeful look
in his eyes.

"Nope, you're not getting away that easy. You've gotten yourself a deal,"
declared Vic, to which Alex clapped in approval. "Awesome, bro. Actually, I
didn't expect you'd take me up on it, but since you have-"

BANG! Their conversation was rudely interrupted by a eardrum-bursting
gunshot, followed by a ton of screaming and yelling. The air erupted with
continuous shots and screams as there was an apparent scramble, followed by
cries of agony as a hail of bullets filled the room. BANG! BANG! The air
started to turn smokey, its smell mixed with burned flesh and an unpleasant
iron tang. As a startled Vic turned to see what the fuck was going on, time
seemed to slow as his brain acknowledged the horrific situation at hand.

There were 2 burly men striding robotically into the bar with a fucking
Desert Eagle each in their hands, wearing tight black muscle tees that
accentuated their heavily tattooed arms as well as camo pants and
boots. They looked like wannabe members of a sovereign militia, which
would've been an amusing thought except for the fact that they were killing
everyone in the room. The bar patrons in front of him were being mowed down
one by one, and the crowd cover between him and the gunmen was thinning.

BANG! Yet another gunshot jerked Vic out of his terrified stupour; he had
to act real fast, or both Alex and himself would be meat paste. "GO!" Vic
yelled to Alex, as he dragged his new friend off the bar stool and ran for
the fire escape. Adrenaline kicked in and the men ran like their legs
burned; as the last remaining bargoer took a blast to the chest, the gunmen
turned their attention to them instead.

Instinctively, Vic felt a little something click in his head. Again, this
wasn't something he'd experienced before, but for a split second, he just
knew that they could escape the carnage alive. As they ran, they braced
themselves for the incoming gunfire, trying to move perpendicularly away
from the barrel.

BANG! Vic could feel a round brush past, embedding itself into a nearby
wall with extreme prejudice. BANG! Another round, this time so close to his
head that the bullet's heat was palpable. The gunmen moved briskly towards
them to take a better shot, striding across bodies and-

Vic had this odd thought in his head that there would be a little
disruption, before it actually happened in real time. Having been fixated
on Vic & Alex instead of the many corpses strewn across the floor, one of
the gunmen stumbled as he prepared to fire, twisting sideways as he
discharged. BANG! There was a nasty spray of blood and guts as the round
went through his partner, whose body arched forward before landing in a
pile of his leaking organs, a visible hole where his abdomen used to be.

Vic and Alex turned instinctively to look, slowing down a little as they
couldn't help but gape. The now lone gunman uttered a guttural scream,
setting aside his Desert Eagle to scramble back on his feet.

"Alex!" Vic tugged Alex's arm to get him moving, but the latter did not
budge. There was a glazed look in his eyes as he stared at the angry
gunman, his demeanour catatonic. "ALEX!"

Vic's shouting did the trick, causing Alex to stumble back in shock. "Run!"
Vic cried, but Alex shot him an intense look. "No, wait," he whispered.

"What the FUCK is-" Vic yelled, trying to pull Alex with his considerable
strength, when his utterance was disrupted by a violent bout of
coughing. Alex's gaze was back on the gunman, whose arms trembled as he
fell to the ground gasping for air. His mouth foamed and his nose was
bleeding heavily as he wheezed for breath, right hand still desperately
reaching for his weapon. His face blistered as he breathed his last, and
Vic thought there was a faint odour of bitter almonds, in addition to the
generally unpleasant stench permeating the room.

Vic turned to look at Alex, whose complexion was deathly pale. "You- you
said- to wait-" he stuttered, his usual confident persona completely
shattered.

Alex shook his head, his voice low with fright. "I- I don't know,
Vic. There was... this thought in my brain. I'm not sure what it was
exactly, but I felt something. That there would be- some occurrence."

Chills travelled down Vic's spine when he heard Alex's words. Just like
himself, Alex had felt a strange sensation. They had both known something
supremely weird would happen, and Vic wasn't sure he liked the sound of
it. "Come on, Alex," he said simply, "We'd better go." He gestured towards
the back exit again, and Alex nodded; an unspoken agreement that publicly
exposing themselves as the only survivors of a bizarre bloodbath was a bad
idea.

As they turned to leave, they suddenly found themselves face-to-face with
another man standing a distance away, at the back of the bar. The newcomer
was a handsome Indian fellow about their age, decked out in clubwear and
with a decidedly lethal weapon in his right hand. He was gaping briefly at
the scene in front of him, but quickly recovered his wits and put his gun
back in his pocket. He raised his arms as a show of good intent, gazing at
Vic and Alex right in the eyes.

"Listen, I know you're still shaken by what's happened, but I promise I can
help you," he spoke, his voice urgent but steady. "Will you trust me?"

----

Hmm. What sort of strange new abilities might Vic and Alex be developing?
How did they manifest, anyway? Who's this new character that's popped up,
and what's his connection to this whole mess?

Do you have any thoughts, speculation, suggestions or (constructive)
feedback? Feel free to email me at benwritesstuff@gmail.com.