Things That Bump and Grind at Night

 


Bonegrinder flexes massive, bony hands, considering this night’s work for the greater glory of my dark master.

Domino Doll pushes the last crate of contraband over the side of the dock. There is a splash and she dusts off her gloves. She drops her calling card on the empty pallet where Scarelli's goons will find it. Then she is gone into the darkened alleyway in a swirl of cloak, leaving only her usual message, "Compliments of the Domino Doll..."

Bonegrinder glides along the docks, silent, with the dread silence of a funeral, stepping away from a van, where several bodies lay scattered, paltry weapons lying around them, weapons the goons never had the chance to even use. A fitting sacrifice to the darkness.

Domino Doll drops back her cloak from her shoulders as she reemerges on the street beyond, heels clicking on the pavement as she struts quickly towards her car, with every step the slit up the side of the dress parting from a leg shimmering in a thigh-high nylon stocking. There is that bounce of self-satisfaction in her step at having outwitted her mobster nemesis yet again.

Bonegrinder moves into the alleys, seeking more, always more, the hunger of the darkness never satisfied, a need for fear, for pain and death, as the tall, skeletally thin figure stops, listening to the faint rustle of satin, moving towards it, the click of heel on pavement drawing him, as he looms from the darkness, behind the sleek car.

Domino Doll looks up at her car and blinks. At first she doesn't believe her eyes, but sure enough there is a towering figure waiting by her car. An assassin sent by Scarelli perhaps? Or simply some homeless bum looking for a handout? He is certainly the tallest man she has ever seen. She decides to take no chances, drawing the gun from her garter holster as she approaches.

Bonegrinder sees her for the first time, and that part of him that still faintly remembers being alive, and a man, can see that she would stir many to lust. But he is no longer a man, but instead a tool of the darkness, his yellowed eyes going to the pistol in the woman's hand, before looking into her eyes. “The weapon will avail you nothing.”

“As threats will avail you nothing.” Domino Doll sees no weapons on the towering black man. His clothes are tattered. She is tempted to go with her homeless person assessment, except that something isn't right. Then, as she feels her heart skip a beat, she realizes his hands are the size of large pumpkins.

Bonegrinder one of those hands reaches out, in that moment of shock, to close over the small automatic, seeking to rip it from the hands of the beautiful vigilante, as the emaciated figure glides eerily closer, his arms insanely long and those hands huge and powerful.

Domino Doll hesitates for a brief second, but still squeezes off two shots before the automatic pistol disappears into the closing fingers. She jerks her gloved hand back. "Who... or what... are you?" She stumbles backwards, and spins on a stiletto heel, trying to disappear into the cover of darkness in the swirl of her fluttering dark cloak.

“I...am...the...Bonegrinder.” Bonegrinder doesn't seem to react to the bullets striking him, as the pistol deforms with a squeal of twisting metal, before being dropped heedlessly. As the satin-clad beauty turns, that hand again reaches out, seeking a handhold on that swirling cloak, as if to draw the brave beauty to her doom.

Domino Doll feels a chill in her bones as she hears the creature declare itself, as well as a chill on her skin as her cloak is torn away from her neck, leaving only the sight of the shifting silhouette of her ductile curves inside the diaphanous dress as she runs under a solitary streetlight. “Oh Lord help me! What has Scarelli sent after me?”

Bonegrinder moves after the beauty, the click of her heels on the pavement drawing him on, the sight of those curves lost on him, largely, as he glides with deceptive speed after her, his long legs eating up distance without any sign of tiring, her cloak hanging from one vast hand, as he closes in. “I...serve...the darkness...”

Domino Doll races into an alley only to find it blocked by a chain link fence which rattles as she runs into it. She looks over her bare shoulder, her face contorted in horror. She has always chosen the darkest nights to do her work because of the cover and sense of terror it allowed her to project. Now she knows that terror for herself. She kicks off her heels and frantically begins to climb.

Bonegrinder looks up at the climbing woman, a view perhaps that almost any thug in the city would love to have, yet his only response is to reach out, and grasp the fence with both hands, pulling it from its posts with a ripping of metal, to draw, and her, down to him. “Flight...will...fail you.”

Domino Doll flings herself over the fence as it is dragged down with seeming effortlessness. She hears a rip and feels the night air on her stocking legs as she pads across the asphalt. She glances back and sees the bottom half of her dress fluttering from the fence as the monster tosses it aside. She ducks into the maze of crates on the docks to hide.

Bonegrinder follows, the scent of her fear drawing him, lifting a couple of half ton crates, and tossing them into the maze ahead of her, to crash down with a horrific sound, the servant of death gliding into the maze, moving towards his prey unerringly, those deadly hands opening and closing.

Domino Doll crawls between crates on hands and knees in nothing but the remnants of her dress, black lace panties and thigh-high stockings. She finds a crate with a side that has been knocked loose by the tossed crates. She pries it open and crawls inside. She pulls her knees to her chest and huddles in a fetal position, trying to be as still as she possibly can.

Bonegrinder moves through the crate maze, silent, ghostly, till finally the scent of her draws him, the sound of her beating heart, his long legs visible from her hiding place, as he stands, looking around, unsure of her exact location, but knowing she is HERE. “Hiding will...not save you.”

Domino Doll takes short quick breaths, her chest heaving against what remains of her dress, resembling a camisole top more than anything now. She cannot take her eyes off those big bare feet, desperately willing them to move on, even as every muscle in her body is poised to flee if he senses her.

Bonegrinder moves away, searching, hearing those desperate breaths, but the sound among the crates deceptive, drawing him away a bit, his yellowed eyes narrowing, as he searches for the golden woman...her fear is palpable...and he will destroy her.

Domino Doll waits several minutes after those feet disappear from view, hearing only the lapping of the waves against the pilings below, before taking the chance of leaving her hiding place. She crawls out of the crate, looking all around as she rises up, cautiously padding her way through the maze, her body coated with a cold sweat.

Bonegrinder looks down from a perch above a stack of crates, those yellowed eyes scanning the maze, till the barely clad heroine pads into view, his huge hands closing into massive fists, as he leaps, landing with obscene grace in front of her, reaching to grab, and hold, with those deadly fingers. “Now...”

Domino Doll squeals in abject horror, stumbling backwards until she bumps up against a stack of crates. Her right hand grasps the only thing it can find with which to fight, a stray box cutter. She gulps and waves it at the approaching menace. Her quivering voice betrays her fear as she warns, "Stay back... or I'll... I swear... I'll cut you!"

Bonegrinder moves forward inexorably, the box cutter actually marginally more dangerous to him then the bullets were, as he moves close, seemingly making no attempt to avoid being slashed, as those hands move ever closer to her cornered form, the heroine at bay, her enemies would pay dearly to see her like this, terrified and cornered, her lush body revealed to all.

Domino Doll tries to dive away from the huge hand, but this time there is little room to maneuver. The huge hand catches hold of the flutter of buttery blond that trails her ducking head. Stocking legs flail as she is lifted up by the hair, bouncing breasts threatening to burst through sweat-soaked white satin. She slashes wildly at her attacker with the box cutter.

Bonegrinder makes no reaction as the box cutter cuts a long narrow gash in one long arm, shaking her like a caught rabbit, as the hand not holding her suspended reaches for her slim, soft throat, no mercy or pity in those yellowed, dead eyes. “The darkness waits...”

“Noooooooooooooooooo...” Domino Doll gasps as the slash of the box cutter has no effect, this creature seemingly feeling no pain. Steely blue eyes look into dead ones and find nothing. She blinks and swallows hard as the second hand reaches for her throat. Her mind races as her heart pounds in her ears. The box cutter in her hand slashes at her own hair, chopping herself free. She sprawls on her ass, crawling frantically between the towering legs, and running for her life.

Bonegrinder turns swiftly, watching her flee, and moving to follow, gliding after her...hands reaching out...then the scene is bathed in bright light, as a police helicopter comes into view, pinning the monster with its bright spot light...sirens in the distance, many, many sirens...the thing looking after the disappearing woman, before fading back into the darkness...for now.

Domino Doll dives over the side of the pier into the dark water, looking like a drowned rat a moment later as she pulls her self up into a speedboat to make her escape. Her heart races as fast as the boat itself as she speeds away, pondering if that thing could somehow have been hired by the mob. She is still panting for air as much in terror as with effort when she leaves a card in the commandeered speedboat. “Compliments of the Domino Doll…”

(March 2009)