EPILOGUE

Vance waited until the boys had gone into the living room. Then he picked up two wine glasses with wine in them held them in curved, clawed hands. He went into the living room.

“A toast! We must raise a toast to the men who are now the head of MY company! Ahh yes! I heard all about it!”

“Ahh Father! Why pretend? We know you’re angry. But it can’t be helped! Brian bought you out fair and square.”

“We’ll see about that. Anyway, looks like he got the upper hand for now. So let’s toast. I don’t blame you, after all.”

Ben and Dom took their glasses warily. They glanced at each other nervously and thought as one: “Don’t you though??”

“Ahh but father….you must join us. Where are our manners?” Ben said smoothly as he turned to the liquor cabinet and poured a bit of wine from a bottle into a third glass. He handed it to Vance.

Vance took it just as warily but didn't see the harm. And he needed to keep up the pretense until the brats drank the drugs he'd snuck into their wine.

“Here's to my boys whom I'm sure will do a very good job with the legacy and the gift they've been given,” he said and drank deeply.

“Here, here!” said Ben and Dom but they did not drink.

Vance was only aware of this for a moment before everything went black.

B*J*B*J*B*J*B*J*

Ben and Dom watched their father drink his wine and then fall insensate onto the sofa.

“Well, finally!” said Ben.

“I thought he'd never shut up,” said Dom.

The two men poured their drinks into a plant which withered at an alarming rate and speed. Such was the fate he'd planned for them.

“You were quick. How'd you do it?” asked Dom.

“Oh. When I turned my back I simply pretended to pour from the bottle and then poured half of mine into his glass.”

“What shall we do now?” asked Dom.

“I'm not sure,” replied Ben, “It all depends on who shows up first.”

The twins exchanged demonic smiles.

B*J*B*J*B*J*B*J*

Meanwhile, back at our own gay little band, both the Alphas and the fey, the celebration continued long into the night. And when the Banquet ended, Brian and Justin invited everyone over and the party just moved over to the loft. Wine and beer flowed, Justin made deviled eggs and cookies and…well after that things got a little blurry. The next morning, Brian and Justin woke up with Gus in between them, Lindsay was on the Italian sofa and Mel was AWOL. Ben was on the Italian leather recliner. Mikey was found mummified in duct tape and Emmett was in the bathtub. Drew was found rolled up in the Persian carpet.

Brian was unconcerned. Compared to some of his parties, this was about a 3 out of 10 on the Shit O Meter. Eventually they got up, made coffee, and Gus wanted chocolate waffles. So they made those. Eventually, someone even untied Mikey!

Now that Brian had come out of the closet (so to speak) he decided to get a legitimate art director. This meant that he sent Justin to PIFA to get certified. And since Justin had applied on a whim and a prayer sometime before military school and actually got in, re-enlisting…uhhh…re-applying was a snap.

Lindsay suggested New York. They both thought about it…

…for about 2 seconds!!

“No.” they both said firmly. And that was that.

All in all they began to live happily ever after. Fuck the rest of it.

THE END

Somewhere in the Amazon:

Vance groaned and awoke in stages. He was on a simple cot and he had been stripped to his boxers. It was a good thing too since he was covered in a heavy sheen of sweat. It wasn’t very hot but….ok, well it was pretty hot but it was also muggy and as humid as a steam bath.

“What the…where the hell am I?” he wondered.

A Catholic monk entered the tent. Vance repeated his question.

The monk named a mission that gave Vance the chills despite the heat. It was the mission in the brochure.

“No! No! You were supposed to take my son!”

“When we got to your house, both your boys were awake and you were the one knocked out. They told us you had had a crisis of conscience and it was your will to take you instead. So we did.”

“Well, they lied! I didn’t have anything! You’ve made a terrible mistake!”

“Here’s a uniform. Get dressed and get to work if you want to eat. Now look, we were paid very handsomely to take someone and take someone we did. It doesn’t matter to us who we got, only that you work for us and the poor natives who need our help. And it looks like that’s you. I suggest you fall into line and do as you’re told!”

“How…how DARE you speak to me like that. Don’t you know who I am!?”

The monk walked slowly over and stood before him for a second. Then there was a swish and a crack as his hand came out of nowhere, as he gave Vince a hard and stinging blow with the back of his hand. Vance was stupefied with shock and rage.

“Yes Mr. Ryder, I know exactly who you were before you were stripped of all power and wealth. Now I know that you belong to us per our contract and that you have 5 minutes to get dressed and start helping to dig the latrines outside! Or you will go without supper tonight.”

“You hit me. You can’t do that! You’re a monk!”

“Ours is an old order. We believe in flagellation for the atonement of sins well as the Hail Mary and Our Father recitations. I suggest…you try very hard not to sin. That means doing what we say. Now get moving!”

“No! No! This is a mistake! A mistake! I’m not supposed to be here! Nooooooo!” SMACK! The monk smacked him again.

“Shut up! Get dressed and do as you're told! Stop having hysterics like an old woman or child. Keep your head down, do your job and everything will go well with you. If you don't work, you don't eat. It's just that simple. You're not in your corner office counting out your money any more, Mr. Ryder.” The monk sniggered unpleasantly.

There was a moment of silence. And then there was such a feral cry of rage and hate that all the birds within a half mile radius took to their wings and flew away for a quieter place to roost and sing.