SNOWSHINE

Chapter18

Three days later...

       The ceremony really was lovely.

       No-one else had thrown their hat into the ring, of course. And time is what it is and marched on and for Justin it marched quickly. Preparations were made but otherwise the days were a routine, the nights were bliss, spent in Brian's arms, in Brian's loft. And then one...two...three, they were gone and the day had arrived.

       The day was as gorgeous. The sky was blue with those wispy white clouds throughout. The sun was out and reflected off the snow making the day dazzling bright, reflecting off the snow to an extent people needed sunglasses to protect them from the...yes, yu guessed it...snowshine.

       Justin walked up a red carpet that had been rolled down the stairs of Town Hall for the occasion. Brian was by his side, holding his hand as his significant other. A great crowd surrounded them and reached all the way up to the bottom of the stairs of Town Hall. The current mayor was at the top of the stairs waiting for him.

       Brian and Justin had dressed in tasteful, matching black suits with white shirts and maroon ties. Both looked incurably sexy.

       They stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Brian squeezed Justin's hand. "How are you doing?" he said for his ears only.

       Justin took a deep breath. "It seems surreal. I still can't really believe this is happening. I've been...I was a wanted man for so long. I was like an animal...hiding out...and now I'm mayor! It's so bizarre!"

       "But you were never a wanted man...You never should have been," reminded Brian, for what seemed like the million and one-th time. "Stockwell framed you. It was all Stockwell."

       "That's true. But even before that...I was just a cop! Oh, God, Brian! What am I doing here!? I'm just a cop! I'm just a stupid grunt cop! I can't be mayor!"

       Brian's hand tightened in his and then moved up in a sensual path up his arm to his forearm to keep him from bolting. The seductive feeling of his hand moving over his body helped to calm Justin's heart rate as well. Well, it was still quick, but now it was quick, in a positive, life-affirming way.

       "First of all, never let me hear you call yourself that again!" Brian whispered furiously, "Never call your fellow cops that again! That was Stockwell's word for you all, and not only was it despicably evil, it was a filthy lie! You were...you ALL were...so much more than that and damn good cops to boot!"

       Justin's cheeks warmed and colored at the praise.

       "Plus the fact, that we're all going to help you, you've made almost every one of the DWARVESZ an advisor of something, and I'll have your back in whatever you do. And on a more selfish note, I'm damn eager to pound that hot little heinie in the mayor's mansion tonight!"

       "Brian!!" Justin turned to Brian in turned on shock.

       But Brian only winked that slow, deliberate wink, the one that never ceased to make Justin's insides turn to mush. "Get going twat! I'll be right here in front, waiting for you. Get up there and be mayor!" He bent down and kissed him quick, heedless of the crowd.

       And so, Justin climbed the stairs carefully, waved to the crowd, who waved back and cheered. He reached the mayor and repeated the necessary oaths, signed all the necessary things and bent his head to receive the mayor's sash, a ribbon pendant with a golden medallion and accepted the congratulations and handshake from the previous mayor and...and...became mayor.

       The former mayor clasped his hand and raised it high in a victory wave and Justin lifted his other one in a double raise.

       The cheering from the enormous crowd was deafening.

       Again, a spontaneous party broke out. It took up the entire street in three blocks in every direction. Food and drinks appeared as if like magic. Music turned on and flash mobs broke out everywhere. Gay and straight couples hooked up everywhere.

       And as soon as the legalities were over, Brian ran up the steps and Justin ran down the steps and they met somewhere in the middle. Brian grabbed Justin around his cute little waist and cradled the back of his head with his other hand and bent him back into a deep, long, slow, languorous, consuming kiss that went on and on and never seemed to end. Justin groaned in pleasure but eventually remembered where they were and who he was. He struggled to come up for air and when they did, he said, "Brian...everybody...they might not like..."

       "When has that ever stopped us before?" Brian answered back incorrigibly, giving him another long slow wink, "Besides....look! Everyone could care less!"

       And Justin did look and it was true. The crazy, instant party was in full swing and everyone was laughing and dancing and kissing and hugging all around them and no one was paying them any mind at all.

       And so of course, Justin looked up into his lover's face with heavy lidded happiness and said one word: "More."

       Brian smiled wolfishly, dipped him again and kissed him witless with a kiss that went on and on, as around them all the people rejoiced.

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       Well, that's not quite right. One person did not rejoice.

       Elsewhere, in quite a different area of town, in a dark and evil slum, underneath a viaduct, in an old and creepy house now lived an old and evil and creepy troll of a man.

       The house had a rusty iron bar fence around it, with each bar fashioned into a wicked spike. Of course, Stockwell had searched his way around it until he found a particularly rusty bar and had kicked it in.

       Inside the fence, the house loomed three stories and condemned under a viaduct. The windows and doors had been boarded up with plywood. There were gables and chimneys and a turret tower and an even taller turret tower. It was so scary looking it made the Bates mansion look like a Norman Rockwell painting.* This suited Stockwell just fine as he became the real life "ghost" to haunt this house.

       Let us gloss over the exact details of how he managed to break into and then squat in this dismal domicile. The only other detail that needs to be recorded is that he had only managed to drain his chequing account before the authorities got ahold of it so he had a paltry sum to keep going for a few days. But, then again, he figured he would only need a few more days in this stupid burg to achieve his ultimate goal and then move on. He had been unable to access his vast fortune of ill-gotten gains as IA saw fit to take their thumb out of their butt and move faster than the police Dept. did when Justin had been made a fugitive. All that lovely, lovely money in Switzerland and the Caymans was frozen solid. Sigh. Life was so unfair.

       So now, here he sat, in this dark, dank, dismal excuse of a house, watching the mayor inauguration ceremony on a TV that was as old as himself. It ran on rabbit ears so the picture was horribly grainy. His eyes squinted in hate as the former mayor raised Justin's arms in a victory salute and then clouded with disgust as Justin and that freak turncoat met in the middle of the stairs and kissed in a deep dip.

       As if on cue, the TV flickered and then went grainy and dead. Snow. Great...more snow. Outside, he heard the clanging and banging and then a final crash as the antenna fell loose of its moorings on the roof and fell heavily to the overgrown grounds in the yard.

       "Great! Just great!" Stockwell got up and turned the dead TV off and then sat back heavily in the chair from whence he had gotten up.

       He was a man transformed but not for the better.

       Stockwell once had a face that was lined by his years but still was ruggedly handsome. His blue eyes flashed with righteousness as he would collar scumbag after scumbag and with pride when he decorated his officers when he'd promote them. (Except for Snow White)

       As time went on, his handsome face had gotten...hard. (And no, not in the positive, life-affirming way.) His blue eyes rarely flashed with righteousness joy, pride in his men, or anything else positive. Eventually, they became cold and hard like two flint stones that sparked only the fires of anger and disappointment. They became prideful, cunning and cruel and when he was busy in his money making mode, they reflected only pure greed.

       Ahhhh....but you know all this already. And still all this was nothing compared with the transformation that had occurred after his expulsion from the Force and hiding out here in this...house...if you could call it that. He had gone to sleep, afraid, furious, hating everyone, just hate, hate HATING everyone and when he awoke he looked and felt like a completely different man, as if he had swallowed a magic potion of old that had turned him into this!

       He was a completely different man. Body, mind, and soul. Those blue eyes were now bloodshot and squinty with hate. His face was perpetually fixed into a scowl, which doubled the lines in his face and made him look twice as old. His hands had permanently flexed themselves in rage and appeared as talons. And his hair! Oh, his beautiful hair! It had been his crowning achievement, and secretly, he took a pride and joy in it that rivalled any girl. It was as thick and full as it was when he was 20 and was a nice salt and pepper mix that reflected his age nicely. And so he was overcome with horror and rage and shame when he looked into the mirror that first morning after and saw the pepper in his hair had given up and salt had taken over. He had a thick, shaggy, mussy bedhead of white hair!

       After he had screamed in shock for at least a minute, he dropped to his knees and was able to comprehend his situation without wanting to throw up. And the first thing he did was curse Snow White's names, both real and fictional for banishing him to this dark and evil lair and for bestowing upon him his Curse of White.

       Inside, he was transformed as well. He had been insane for a long time now but he had always been able to conceal his wanton, murderous desires and intents with a veneer of respectability, a fake smile, small talk that would get him through any social situation. And there were times at home with his wife and kids (or mistress) that he actually felt spurts of what he recognized as were happiness and...love.  Granted, there was a time lately where his anger had been escaping more and more in the occasional fits of temper. But that wasn't anything one or two (or a dozen) slammed doors couldn't fix.

       Since he had escaped, all that had been stripped away and discarded, like a thick, camel hair coat on a hot sunny day. There was no love. No pride. No happiness. Just anger and hate for everybody and especially for Snow White, for Brian, for his fellow cops, half of which seemed to have been on the Dark Side all along. There was no reason to be civil and no one to be civil to, and that dropped away naturally as well. The only thoughts and intents of his heart were evil now, murderous, hateful, plotting, cursing. There was no limit, no restraint. He could have easily stolen candy from a baby, guided a blind man into an open manhole, and murdered someone cheerfully for looking at him the wrong way.

       ‘Ahh, yes, he could,' he thought gleefully, ‘But there's only one person I want to kill now. Snow White! But heaven help me who gets in my way!' And thinking such, he began to laugh, loud and long and maniacally.

       Because he knew just how he was going to do it.

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That night...

       The Inaugural Ball went off without a hitch. It celebrated Babylon's re-opening and, for that matter, was the first such Ball to be held there.

       Grimhook was ecstatic to be back to work and had scrubbed the backroom and the rest of Babylon clean as a whistle. Of course, thanks to the lighting, you'd never have guessed. It was as dark and intimate and wild as ever. The go-go boys were muscular and oiled up as ever and the thumpa thumpa music pounded out like it had never stopped.

       Along with the gayest of the gay, all the strait-laced straights in their tuxes and gowns were invited as well. The gays knew what to do here, and had the dance floor bumping and grinding in no time but the others stood stiffly at first, unsure of what to do, and as uncomfortable as country mice visiting their town cousins.

       When Snowshine and Brian entered, all the straights gasped and the gays cheered.

       Brian entered wearing his favourite clubbing clothes, a pair of black jeans that appeared to have been spray painted on him and a black wifebeater. His hair was mussy on purpose and he wore shades. Ever present on his wrist now, was his bracelet of three pearls.

       But Snowshine drew the most attention, wide-eyed stares, and gasps, as straight Pittsburgh watched their young new mayor walk in soft dancing shoes, blue jeans, and a red shirt with no midriff. True, he was 25 but he was small and slender with the washboard abs of a cop and a great ass. Despite his white hair, he still looked incredibly youthful and handsome and he pulled off the look flawlessly. As well as the youth, his blue eyes shone and his mouth was cracked into a permanent smile of pure pleasure and unadulterated joy. This was his first night out as a free man and as mayor and he was ecstatic. He hadn't had a date night in years, hadn't been outside or in a bar in over two weeks, and was still getting used to the fact that he didn't have to go back to that downstairs dungeon room. Every so often it would hit him..."Oh, my God....I'm not going back there tonight...or ever again!"...and his smile would crack open afresh.

       Brian and Snowshine sashayed their perfect asses straight to the dance floor where they immediately let the thumpa thumpa beat move through their bodies and souls like a second heartbeat. They began a wild dance that was basically them vertically humping. Everyone watched and then joined in. Pretty soon the entire dance floor was dirty dancing, switching partners, switching back, dry leg humping etc. The dirty dancing was so filthy it made the stuff Patrick Swayze did seem like it had been washed in Oxy Clean. A fat dowager lady in a poofy, peach colored dress and a pince-nez murmured, "Well, I never!" and fainted away. Her husband tried to catch her but as he was the tall, stick figure type, he couldn't quite manage it and somehow ended up underneath her, squished flat and completely trapped.

       Lindsay and a long, dark-haired woman ran up to help and in so doing, knocked heads. "OWWWWWW!!!" they both yelled rubbing their heads.

       "Help me! Help me!" mewled the poor man piteously.

       The two women shook it off and worked together rolling the fat woman off her husband and then made sure the woman's airway was clear. At this point, others started to arrive on the scene to help so they backed off.

       Throughout their encounter, Lindsay couldn't shake the feeling that she'd seen the other woman before. But somehow her long, dark hair kept obscuring her face. Now that the crisis was over, they were able to look more closely at each other.

       "Do I know you?" asked Lindsay.

       "Oh, I don't think so," said the other woman.

       "Are you sure? I could have sworn...your voice, it's...wait! Mel! Is that you!? Melanie!?"

       Sheepishly, the woman stood up and brushed her hair back. It was indeed Melanie.

       "It is you!" Lindsay was ecstatic. "My God! What are you doing here!?"

       But Mel had lived her own hard life and did not hear the happiness in Lindsay's voice. "Why shouldn't I be here? This is my home town too! I'd heard they were electing Pittsburgh's first gay mayor and wanted to see for myself. Got a problem with that!?"

       "Mel, no! I didn't mean it like that! I just meant....I mean I was so surprised to see you! Surprised and happy! I missed you so much!"

       "Not so much, I bet!" Mel spat out jealously, "How's Guillaume?"

       "Guillaume was a mistake. I only spent a year in France before everything imploded. He never did take to Gus. And Gus! Oh, Mel! Gus is a genius! An honest to goodness genius!"

       "Really?'

       "Yes! Oh, Mel, I never thought I'd see you again! So many things have changed! My life has been...such an adventure!"

       "So I see!" Melanie said, looking her over. Lindsay was wearing her tightest catsuit yet.

       "I've missed you terribly! Care to have a sit down and a drink and catch up?" Lindsay held her hand out.

       "Melanie took it cautiously. "Fine! One drink! And we'll see!"

       Lindsay face was wreathed in smiles. "I love your hair! I've never seen it long before!" she said happily, as they walked toward the bar.

       Mel's answer was eaten up by the noise of the crowd.

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       Meanwhile, on the dance floor, the wild, erotic dancing continued. By this time, several of the gays had taken pity and a healthy dose of lust upon some of the straights and invited them to dance. At first, the poor straights didn't know what to do. Most of them were the crème de le crème and were used to caviar hor d'oeuvres and ballroom dancing and (shudder) cello music. Not to mention, they hadnever danced with same sex partners before. The gays smiled wolfishly at that. They were more than happy to pop that cherry!

       Gently, they guided them out onto the dance floor, plied them with liquor and drugs and encouraged their stiff spines to bend and flex and their tight asses to unclench.

       "Wanna dance?" asked Ted to a stiff tuxedoed man with his nose in the air.

       The man looked him up and down. "Sorry! I'm not really into the leather scene," he said in his snobbiest voice.

       "Yeah...Neither was I..." Ted answered reasonably, "Then one day I ran into an old school friend who took me down into his dungeon and made me his suck pig."

       The tuxedo man's mouth dropped open in comical shock.

       "That's the way..." Ted crooned softly. He grasped the man's chin gently in his leathered hand and stroked gently and pulled down. The man's mouth opened wider. The man gave an involuntary shudder at the erotic sensations of the leather. Ted smiled and stuck two fingers in his mouth. The man sucked greedily finding the leather was even more delicious than it had felt. Ted used the fingers to scissor the man's mouth open even wider.

       Ted looked deep into the man's wide eyes. "Yeeeesss! Just like that! I think I opened just that wide! And so will you! Now.... You... are....coming...with me...to...dance...with...me. Now! Understand boy!?"

       The man found he could not look away from Ted's hard eyes. "Yes Sir..." he heard a far off voice say and realized it was his own.

       Ted laughed in triumph and dragged the man onto the dance floor by his bow tie where he proceeded to rip the man's shirt off and pour a glass of champagne down his throat.

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       The hour grew later but the party was just beginning.

       From out of the crowd, out of the shadows, a huge, muscled man dressed as a superhero emerged.

       "Michael Novotny! Michael Novotny!" he called.

       Everyone swung round to view this latest spectacle.

       "Oh, my Gawd!" Michael yelled out, "It's Captain Astro! Well..." he amended, "An amazing likeness of him anyway! And you say you're here for me!?" he looked over the lycra suit and mask appreciatively. Hey! He may be with Ben now but that didn't mean he couldn't look!

       "I am if you are Michael Novotny," said the lycra-ed actor-cum-hero.

       "I am," said Michael.

       "Well then...this is for you. A belated 30 year birthday gift, a missed milestone!" the hero pulled out an object and handed it to Michael.

       "Oh my God! It's a Number one issue of Captain Astro!" screamed Michael. And indeed it was; the comic book was inside a plastic bag to preserve it. At the many blank looks he got he explained, "It's worth several thousand dollars!" At that he got a smattering of applause and then people went back to the party. Well, those that didn't have a thing for tight lycra stretched over big muscles, that is!

       "But who? Who did this? I mean...who sent you? Who sent me this?"

       "I did," Brian said, stepping out of the crowd and into the circle that had formed. "I should have been at your 30th birthday Michael and quite a few others. So I wanted to make up for that in a big way by getting you a big present. I figure this is what I would have gotten you when you were 30 anyway."

       "Oh, thank you, Brian! This means...so much!" Michael gave him a hug which considering what had happened when they first met, Brian considered it a huge step forward. "Oh! But I haven't really been into Capt. Astro for a few years now! I don't suppose...you wouldn't mind...if I re-sold it and used the money for something else!?"

       "It's your gift! You do what you want with it!" Brian was just glad to have his friend in his arms rather than his gun in his back.

       "Mmmmmmm, thanks Bri!" Michael gave an extra squeeze before releasing. A new glint was in his eye as he was already imagining a little comic shop of his own and telling all those homophobic cunts at the Big Q where they could shove that job once and for all.

       "Oh and Mikey...that's only half of your gift," Brian drawled, "Here's the other half!" And he spun him around and shoved him into Capt. Astro's arms! Mikey found himself entangled in smooth spandex arms that adjusted him easily and bent him in a deep dip whereupon he was kissed deeply! Whistles and catcalls abounded. Ben stood there with his arms crossed. He was not amused.

       "MMMMMMPPPHHH! MMMMMM!!" Finally Michael was able to extricate himself from Capt. Astro's lips and arms.

       "That was...that was great....but I'm afraid I haven't been into Capt. Astro...that way for quite some time! I have a new hero now!" Michael indicated Ben, whose features softened visibly. "But you must stay for the party...and enjoy yourself!" 
       "You're such a cutie! A pity! But perhaps...one dance? A birthday dance! If it's OK! You do have me for the night, after all!" asked Capt. Astro.

       Michael looked over at Ben. "Would that be all right? Just one dance? Please?"

       Ben looked at him jealously. "One dance! And when I cut in...that's it!"

       "Thanks Ben! Come on! Let's go! It'll be over all too soon!" And he swung Capt. Astro into his arms and around the dance floor where people made room for them and the music magically slowed down to an appropriate waltz level. Michael was in seventh heaven as he lived out an adolescent fantasy. If he had a nickel for every time he'd jerked off to just this scenario, he'd have about as much money as that comic was worth. Michael looked up into the crystal blue eyes of the actor playing his favourite hero and was oblivious to everyone and everything else.

       "Mmmmmm....just who are you behind that mask, my hero?" he cooed.

       "If I told you, I'd have to kill you," said Capt. Astro, playing along.

       "Is that right? Well....hey! Hands above the waist!" he admonished, slapping a busy hand that had wandered down to cup an asscheek. "Or my boyfriend will kill you!"

       "Fair enough!" sighed Capt. Astro, "Sometimes being a hero is hard!"

       Michael laughed.

       And a few more times slowly around the floor, Michael heard a clock somewhere chime midnight.

       And on the last stroke, Michael felt a tap on his shoulder. Michael responded, turned and smiled when he saw Ben.

       "Well, I guess that's the end of that," he said to Capt. Astro, "Thanks for a magical dance...and the comic. I'm going to use it to quit my job."

       "Well then...It really isn't the end of anything," said Capt Astro, "It seems you face a new beginning. You go back to your own real Prince. And we both but turn..." Here he twirled Michael into Ben's waiting arms. "...yet another page! Who's next!?"

       And almost immediately, he found his arms full of three men! My goodness! They all started dancing in a tight group dance. Capt. Astro figured wow! This was probably his best gig yet! It got even better as the three men exchanged glances and subtly began to dance Capt. Astro over to the back room.

       It really was a great party.

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       From out of the crowd, out of the shadows, a huge, muscled man dressed completely in black emerged.

       This man was dressed quite differently than Capt. Astro and made quite a different impression. He had been standing in the corner all night and what with the lighting and his dress and his silence, he had eventually blended into the background and had been forgotten.

       He was dressed in full, black leather. Knee-high boots, leather chaps, leather shirt, vest, short leather gloves. And a full executioner's mask that laced up behind his head and covered his head and three quarters of his face.

       This forbidding figure in black said nothing to anybody as he stalked slowly across the floor. Everybody parted for him as the Red Sea equally as silently.

       And since he approached Justin from behind, the new mayor never heard him coming. Brian was off getting them fresh shots of Beam.

       The leathered and masked man walked up till he was directly behind Justin.

       "Hail to the new mayor!" the man in black said in a deep voice, "I bow to you!" And he did so, deeply at the waist.

       "Thanks but I'm sure bowing isn't...necessary!" Justin gasped in shock a little as he turned around to find this forbidding...and erotic figure before him.

       "Oh, I know the importance of authority and dominance and submission. And so I bow to you anyway," the masked man said.

       "And who are you?" asked Justin politely, although he was beginning to wish Brian would come back.

       "My name is Hammer. Jack Hammer." Jack paused to let the titters concerning his name die down. "I am the president of PASM." (Pronounced paz'm) "The Pittsburgh Association of S/M. I was chosen to come and bestow our congratulations on being the first new gay mayor of Pittsburgh and conquering such evil that was your opponent. It must feel good to crush another man under your heel the way you did."

       "Not at all. It saddens me that I got this job at the expense of another. In fact, I got the idea to run because I did not want him to run and win unopposed. And yet I ended up winning the same way. But it was not my choice."

       "Wasn't it though?" asked Jack Hammer relentlessly, "The way you muckraked him into submission on that last day! He lost the race, his family, his assets, and his freedom all in one move. I tell you, PASM is very impressed with you! We all consider you a sadist of the highest order!"

       Snowshine was appalled. The area around him had grown deathly silent except for the thumpa, thumpa music that pulsated through like a second heartbeat.

       "No! That's not true! I'm not a sadist at all! I got no pleasure from what I did at all. And I did not muckrake him! Muckraking is assassinating another's character by whatever means necessary when you are afraid of losing! I was already ahead by that second broadcast.  Stockwell's character was already dead! I knew it; I just couldn't prove it until that night! And when I did, it was not to muckrake or make him lose, but to bring him to justice and to clear my own name, which he had framed!"

       Brian was on his way back with the two shots and was halfway through the sea of people when Justin gave this speech. He was filled with pride to see and hear his Snowshine hold his own against even the most forbidding of figures.

       "I see!" said Jack Hammer in a conciliatory tone that clearly showed that he did not see. "Well, I meant no disrespect...or distress!" He bowed again. "In fact, I came to offer you a drink. A toast with the official drink of PASM...the appletini!"

       "I'm not sure..." said Justin.

       "Come, come! Let there be no hard feelings between us! Consider it a hearty congratulations! And a way of making up of any....distress I may have just caused you!" And he produced the two red drinks from the bar behind him where he must have placed them as he came up to Justin.

       Justin could feel all the eyes upon him and knew he must do something, anything. The pressures of being in the public eye can truly be a terrible thing, he mused, unless you are willing to roll with the punches.

       "Well, I usually prefer Beam," he said, "In fact, my boyfriend is coming back with some now. But I suppose one sip of an appletini couldn't hurt. And I'm all for peacemaking. Very well. Thank you Jack.

       Jack smiled widely and handed Justin his drink.

       "Congratulations to the new mayor!" Jack toasted in a loud voice. Everybody raised their glasses and drank. Justin raised his glass...

       From where he stood a little way off, realization hit Brian in the head like a whack from a baseball bat.

       A figure cloaked in black. Snowshine. Apples. Snow White. Black hearts. Good. Evil. An apple as red as blood upon the snow. Black. White...

       "No! Snowshine NO! Don't drink it! Stop! Let me through! Let me through!! Stop!" The shots of Beam hit the floor with a shatter as he fought his way through the bodies but the more he pushed, the more they seemed to hem him in.

       ...and drained it.

       "And Death to Snow White!" Jack said in a quite different and evil voice. He ripped off his mask. Everyone gasped.

       It was, of course, Stockwell. Justin's eyes widened and the martini glass fell unheeding from his fingers to smash on the floor.

       "That's right! Look upon me before you die and know who has exterminated you like the vermin you are!" Stockwell yelled insanely. "The GHB I put in there would kill three men! And all I needed was to dispatch one! A black hand snatched out and grabbed Justin's throat. The talon it had become fit perfectly around Justin's white, slender neck. Stockwell pulled him close. "You cost me everything, you little shit! And now I have made you pay! In that knowledge...despair...and DIE!!!"

       "The only one who should despair is you," Snowshine said, "You'll never make it out of here."

       He began to choke. Stockwell released him. Brian finally broke through the circle. But it was too late. Justin was spasming. Foam dribbled out of his mouth. Brian knelt beside him and grabbed him. Justin spasmed once...twice, three times...and was still.

He was dead.

TBC