0622  8/10/24  An alley off 43rd and Marr  New Gomorrah

The black of night was turning gray as the sun fought valiantly to break through the smog smothering New Gomorrah. The air was still and already growing uncomfortably warm as far-off sirens pierced the air, wailing urgently.  A small crowd had gathered in front of an alleyway next to The Crestmore Theatre. Too many to keep away from the scene by the lone cop and the security guard on the scene. 

The narrow entrance had been closed off with yellow tape.  A fragile barrier should anyone want a closer look and, by the sound of things, people did despite the rank smell rising from the sewer below. The alleyway was still bathed in darkness, hidden from the burgeoning dawn by the shadows of buildings flanking it.  Not a good place for the claustrophobic nor the squeamish.  There had been violence done here leaving dark red stains on the asphalt.  A man-shaped shadow twisted in the dark a dozen feet in the air despite the lack of a breeze.  A murmur went up in the crowd as the dawn revealed more details.  His arms were raised above his head, his wrists bound with a gold-colored rope attached to a balcony on the third floor of the building behind him. A pool of blood had formed on the asphalt beneath him seeming to drip from his feet.  

The crowd turned restless, growing anxious as the shrill sirens grew closer, unsure if the perpetrator was still on the scene.  Even the officer and the guard seemed spooked, thankful as backup arrived and the sirens cut off abruptly and a dozen cops poured out of their patrol cars. One of them played a beam of light, his flashlight held like a gun, on the figure. A collective gasp went up. The cause of death was suddenly clear; a pair of knives thrust deep into his eyes and a gaping wound where his throat had been savagely cut. What once had been a living, breathing person had been reduced to a slab of meat. The beam played a little higher. Attached to the rope was a white rectangle. It would be identified as a playbill from the nearby theatre once the body had been pulled down. For now, it was a mystery as was the mask that covered the dead man’s face. A pig mask.

It took a while to bring the body down.  A quartet of cops had to enter the theatre to cut him down and then lower him to the asphalt. A man, illuminated by the dim light of the sun and the headlight of a patrol car approached the victim. He was an older man though not old. Though his hair was grey, he moved with the grace of an athlete as he squatted to examine the dead man more closely, careful not to disturb the knives as he slipped on a pair of plastic gloves. He took a moment to examine the weapons before plucking what turned out to be a playbill advertising  Zorro - The Musical from the gold-colored rope.  Pulling a pair of glasses from the breast pocket of this trench coat, he read it, turning it over with a frown. Someone had scrawled a message in blood. It was messy, but he was still able to make out the words.

Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand.

 “Shakespeare,” he murmured to himself, pulling a pack of Marlboros from his breast pocket.  It reminded him too much of the messages that The Butcher had left in the bedrooms of his victims.

“What was that, commissioner?” asked the sergeant at his side.

“It’s a quote from Titus Andronicus, Sergeant Burnside,” he said, his voice steady as he shook out a cigarette and held it between his lips as he reached into his coat for a lighter.    “Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.”

Lighting his cigarette, he took a puff before squatting again and carefully tugging the mask to one side, revealing the dead man’s face.  A flash went off. The damned press. Two more followed as Stephanos stared at the face of one of their own. Detective Angelo Rameriz.  Burnside, who was standing over him, gasped softly.

“Get them out of here,” the commissioner growled. “God damned vultures.”

0811  8/6/24  Newmark’s Delicatessen and Newsagent  4746 Broadway Street  New Gomorrah

Sydney carefully pushed her way through the crowd populating the sidewalk, all in a hurry to get somewhere. Some were headed to work. Some home. And some, like her, just wanted breakfast.

“Spare change, Miss? Fallen on hard times.”

He looked it, too. The stained shirt and the patched trousers had seen better days. Just like the man wearing them. Still, he wore an optimistic smile showing off the several gaps where there should have been teeth as he held out a cardboard coffee cup.

“Just enough for a bite to eat.” 

She moved to one side, not wanting to impede the stream of people moving in both directions and dug into her handbag for her wallet and pulled out a twenty.

“Good luck,” she mumbled, offering him a sympathetic smile.

“God bless, Miss.”

So much for breakfast. Worth it though. And she still had enough for a cup of coffee and her morning copies of the news. She continued down the block, dodging and weaving like a fighter in the ring until she made it to the thick glass door of Newmark’s.

She’d been frequenting the Deli since moving to the Lower East Side last year for three reasons.  One: they served the best pastrami on rye this side of the McClellan Two: they were one of the few places around that still sold actual newspapers. 

“Hola, Sydney.”

She smiled, always happy to hear Kat’s voice. It was usually a sign that her day would be a good one.

“Morning, Kat.” 

“The usual?”

“Bit light today,” she said with a shrug, giving the taller woman a lopsided smile. “Coffee. And a copy of The Post. And the Daily.”

“You and your papers.”

“I’m old school,” Syd said with a shrug accompanied by a shy smile.

Katrina Aguilar was the third reason. Tall, dark, and beautiful. And straight. Sydney had known her since second grade and had a crush on her since 7th. Her boyfriend was named Angelo. Detective Angelo Ramirez to be precise. If there’d been any justice in the world he’d have been an asshole so she could properly hate him. No such luck. He was a nice guy and he made Kat happy so she continued to admire her from afar.

Kat dropped both papers on the counter followed by a cup of steaming hot coffee and a bagel with cream cheese.

“On the house. You’re already too thin.”

“But-“ she started but was quickly shushed.

“Just say ‘thank you, Kat’.”

“Thank you, Kat,” she mumbled, blushing a little as she glanced at the headline on The Post with a frown.

East Side Butcher Strikes Again.

Kat leaned over the counter, almost conspiratorially.

“Best thing about having a cop as a boyfriend?”

“He knows all the best donut shops?” Syd quipped.

“That too, but yeah, Angelo shows up at quitting time and walks me home.”

“Lucky you.”

Another reason to both hate and not hate her boyfriend. Great, she thought, scanning the story quickly. Two women. 22 and 23. Roommates. College students at New Gomorrah U. One played on the Volleyball team. The other was a business major. Same MO; hacked to death.  The killer had left a quote from King Lear scrawled in blood on the living room wall. This Judgement of the heavens that makes us tremble touches us not with pity.

 No clues. No leads. No justice.

“Someone needs to take him down.”

“Yeah,” she replied distractedly as she read the other headline.  Serial Killer Claims Two More Victims.  “Someone does.”

 0903  8/6/24  Sydney Sherwood’s Apt. 653 Oak Street #805  New Gomorrah

Sydney pushed open the door with the toe of her boot while taking the last bite of her bagel. Her place wasn’t much. All the furniture was second-hand. The couch had belonged to her dad, the desk had been inherited from an aunt, and the coffee table had been Astra's.  The walls were covered up with movie posters, most of them vintage sci-fi.   Tossing the newspapers and her handbag on the coffee table, she booted up her laptop.

 “Wake up, Hal.”

“Affirmative, Sydney. I read you.”

She smiled. It never ceased to amuse her. Her ex had programmed it for her as a prank that had backfired. Syd had thought it the most awesome gift she’d ever received.  

“Hal. Call Astra,” she commanded.

“I'm sorry, Sydney. I'm afraid I can't do that.””

A moment later she could hear the phone ringing and feel her heart rate ramping up slightly.

“Yeah, you still do that to me,” she mumbled under her breath. A moment later Astra’s crisp voice came over the speaker.

“Hey, Syd. What’s up?”

The thing was, there had been no dramatic breakup. Long-distance relationships were simply difficult to keep going, especially when both parties were as invested in their jobs as they had been. Still were, if she was being honest.

“Just wanted to hear your voice. I missed you.”

“Missed you too.  What else? I get the feeling there’s more.”

She sighed. Her ex-girlfriend had always been able to read between the lines.

“I don’t suppose you have Bobby’s number?  I just have his old one.”

“And you want to call Bobby, why?”

“I just need to ask him something.”

“If I give it to you am I going to regret it? Is it about that unpleasantness over on the East Side?”

“Maybe. To both.”

“Want some advice?”

“Not really. Just his number.”

In the end, Astra gave her both.

“One down, the easy one, and one to go. Hal, dial 242-9811.”

“I'm sorry, Sydney. I'm afraid I can't do that.”

“Shush.”

This time her pulse raced for a different reason.  Unlike Astra, her break up with Bobby had been bitter

“Hey, Bobby. Sydney.”

“Sydney. What do you want?”  She could hear the rancor in his voice. Their torrid love affair had not ended well.  When she’d broken if off he’d taken it badly.

“I… need to ask a favor…”

“The answer is no.”

“But-“

“I said the answer is no!” he repeated angrily.

The line went suddenly dead.

 2211  8/6/24  Sydney Sherwood’s Apt. 653 Oak Street #805  New Gomorrah

“It’s a bit messy,” Sydney warned, her words slightly slurred, as she turned the key and pushed the door open.

“So’s my life,” came the reply followed by soft laughter.

“Tell me about it.”

Her name was Anna. Syd had met her at The Egyptian Club, a local hangout for lesbians looking for a hookup.  The crowd that usually hung out tended to be on the kinkier side. She reminded her of Kat which was why she’d chatted her up after a few drinks and invited her over.

Anna pushed her roughly into the door, forcing it closed, cupped her ass, and kissed her hard. Eyes wide with surprise, Syd returned the kiss hungrily, pausing for breath as her blouse was practically torn off, buttons popping free and scattering on the floor.

“I hope you like it hard,” Anna said, her smile growing cruel.

Syd cried out as the other woman sunk her teeth into the meat of her shoulder drawing small dots of blood.  

“Yes,” she hissed, her voice a mixture of pain and pleasure.

They ended up on the couch after clearing it of newspapers, take-out cartons, and unfolded laundry, Anna on top yanking down the zipper on her jeans. Syd’s had already been abandoned on the floor.  Their kisses were as messy as the apartment. Wet and sloppy. They giggled as Anna helped Syd out of her black lace panties, already wet and pussy scented.

“You smell good, you little slut.”

“I taste even better,” Sydney purred, fingers tangled in dark curly hair as she slipped her hand into her panties, wetting her fingers, then painting Anna’s lips with her juices.

The dark-haired woman ground her pussy against Syd’s, red cotton against black lace, both stained with cunt juice.

“Whore.”

“Slut.”

More giggling, and then a moan as Syd’s panties were peeled down her thighs and her mouth was filled with tongue. She hooked her feet behind Anna’s ankles and started humping her desperately

“You’re so fucking hot.”

“Mmhm. I want to devour you.”

Anna straddled the slim blond, cupping her head with one hand while groping her perky breasts and stiff nipples with the other as she forced her head between her thighs.

“Eat me, baby,” she commanded, and Sydney obeyed, lapping playfully at her swollen clit and tonguing her soaking wet pussy eagerly.

“Oh, fuck. So good you dirty little whore.”

Her juices were running down Sydney’s cheeks, coating her lips and chin as she sucked her clit, her dark landing strip tickling her nose.  She let out a gasp as Anna clawed her tits, leaving angry red marks on her pale skin. She responded by thrusting her tongue into her dripping wet cunt.

“You like that? You like a little pain, kinky girl?”

“Oh, god,” she managed, slipping her tongue even deeper into the dark-haired girl, pretending she was Kat, bucking beneath her as she felt her nipples being tugged and twisted. She came up for air for a moment, panting hard, eyes rolling slightly back as nails scored her tits again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cried out softly.

“What else do you like, kinky girl? What if I pissed on you?”

“Please?” Sydney gasped, pressing her mouth against Anna’s cunt, grinding her nose into her throbbing clit, sucking up her juices.

“Open your mouth for me, baby girl.”

Sydney obeyed as droplets of pee splattered on her taste buds.

“Drink up,” Anna groaned, suddenly flooding the blonde’s mouth with piss.

Syd did her best to gulp it all down but much of it ran down her face and soaked her hair. Not that she cared. She reached between her thighs and ground her fingers against her clit while licking the other woman’s pussy lips clean of piss before shoving her tongue back into her.

“God, going to come. Oh god, oh Go-“

She spasmed, smothering Syd with her pussy, her juices flooding her mouth as she came.

“You are a kinky bitch,” she breathed after she stopped shaking and gave Syd’s damp hair a sharp tug.  “You want to come too, baby?”

“Yes. Please?”

“So polite. You got any toys?”

“In my bedroom.”

“Let’s go take a look.”

Sydney led her to the bedroom by the hand, breathlessly giggling, and pushing her down on the bed.

“One minute.”

She lay down on the floor and pulled out a sweater box and opened the lid to reveal the contents while Anna leaned over the edge so she could get a good look.

“Someone’s a naughty girl. Let’s start with the handcuffs,” she decided, grinning.

2251  8/6/24  Emily Petrov’s home 140 Stanton Street  New Gomorrah

Amy woke up with a start. She’d heard something.  A shape appeared in the doorway of her bedroom.  A large, man-sized shape with a pig-shaped head. She barely had enough time to scream before his butcher knife ended her life.

“I am the angel of death,” the killer snarled as he swung the knife over and over until he, and the bed, were covered with her blood.

Finally, content that she was dead, he dipped his fingers in her lifeblood and began scrawling a message on the bedroom wall, just finishing when the window shattered inward. Grunting, he turned just in time to see a foot headed for his face.

“Busted, asshole.”

“Imbecile,” the killer grunted as he caught his attacker by the heel and flung him against the wall.

Shakily, he stood, swearing as he used the wall to prop himself up. Whoever was behind the mask was incredibly strong.

“Fucker,” he swore angrily as he fumbled for the taser holstered on his hip. “Take that!”

He sprang at the bigger man, sparks flickering on the business end of the device only to have it swatted away.  Suddenly he felt a hand around his throat. 

“Hhhhn,” he managed, trying not to panic as he found himself unable to breathe. He began to pound on his attackers’ arms uselessly.  Whoever or whatever it was had had to be enhanced.  No normal man was this strong. It wasn’t the way he wanted to die, not that he wanted to die at all.  He scrambled at his form-fitting suit, seeking the pouch with the adrenaline spike in it, his vision starting to dim.

Not today, motherfucker. Finding it, he jabbed it into his thigh. Moments later he felt it surge through his system.

“Die!” he screamed, aiming a kick as he clawed at the killer’s wrist. He could hear sirens in the distance growing closer. They both could. With an angry grunt, he found himself hurled across the room and onto the blood-soaked bed, his skull connecting with the headboard. A moment later his vision went black…

He woke up to the sound of someone pounding at the front door. It took him a moment to recall what had happened. A moment during which he heard a crash. Someone was breaking in.

“Police!” came the shout.

He looked around the room. He was covered with blood and lying beside what was left of a female victim. The killer had left the murder weapon behind. A butcher’s knife. This was not going to look good. The cops didn’t like him as it was, branding him as a vigilante. This wasn’t Skyway City where people like Astro Girl flew around and saved kittens from trees and were declared heroes. The cops in New Gomorrah hated ‘the costumes’ as they called him and others like him. They’d relish a chance to pin this on him and put him behind bars while the real killer continued on his spree. Decision made, he fled the scene of the crime through the patio door as a pair of cops came crashing into the room, flashlights in one hand, revolvers in the other.

He felt the bullet tug at his suit, tearing a hole through it before it passed through the meat of his shoulder. Nothing serious he hoped though it hurt like blazes. And then he was gone, disappearing into the night as the cops charged into the backyard and cursed.

0827  8/7/24  Newmark’s Delicatessen and Newsagent. 4746 Broadway Street  New Gomorrah

Sydney winced as she got off the city bus outside the busy deli. Anna’s enthusiasm with the crop had been above and beyond and she was feeling it this morning with every bump and pothole.

“Hola, mi amiga,” Kat called out as she let the door close behind her and pushed her damp hair back from her face. It was starting out as a humid day. 

“Morning, Kat,” she mumbled, blushing a little as she recalled Anna’s resemblance to her friend.

“You look like something the cat dragged in,” she quipped while filling a cup with coffee and passing it over the counter. “Drink up. I’ll have the rest of your order in a second.  Rough night?”

“Erm… yeah, You could say that.” She blushed even harder.  Rough wasn’t the word for it. The thing is, she liked it rough. Sometimes she liked it really rough. Last night had been one of those times.

“Here’s your papers.”

Syd took them and read The Post’s headline with a start.

Vigilante Caught Red-Handed.    

She read the leading paragraph and gasped.

Costumed Vigilante The Crimson Ghost fled the murder scene as Police entered a home on Stanton Street belong to a co-ed at New Gomorrah University.

The Crimson Spider suspected of murder? She quickly uncovered The Time’s front page.

Costumed Killer Escapes Cops.

“That’s impossible,”

“What’s impossible.”

“They saying that Crimson Ghost is The Butcher.”

Kat set her bagel on the counter and pushed it towards her.

“Angelo says they got surveillance footage of him. Says he’s the number one suspect.”

“But…”

Syd stopped herself.  How did she explain that she knew the man behind the mask? That she used to date him? That Bobby Kane and the Ghost were one and the same?

“I just… I thought he was a good guy,” she finished lamely.  

“Yeah, well, sometimes you’re wrong. I mean, look at some of the losers you’ve dated.  Your track record isn’t exactly great, chica. No offense.”

The thing was, Kat was right. Bobby could be an asshole sometimes and he wasn’t the only one.  Ben hadn’t been much better, and then there was Carl.  She’d ended up filing a restraining order against him after he got violent with her one too many times…

“None taken.  Not all of them have been like that, though.”

“I liked that nerd. Luke, right?  Super nice guy if a bit weird. Stacy was sweet, though a little on the dull side. And Astra. I liked her and I think she was good for you.  Maybe you should stick to dating girls.”

“Maybe I should,” she mumbled, taking a bite of her bagel and washing it down with a healthy swig of coffee.

“Anyway, don’t you have a job to get to?”

She glanced at her watch and nodded. “Yeah. Catch you tomorrow.”

“Be safe,” she called out as Sydney opened the door to leave. “I mean it.”

“You too,” she returned with a quick smile as she let the door close behind her.    

2327  8/7/24  The Egyptian Club  667 Clinton Street  New Gomorrah

Anna wasn’t there. Not that it mattered. Plenty of other women to fill the void. Kat had been right. Astra had been good for her. Too good, maybe. Too perfect. A reminder of how imperfect she was. Of what a mess her life was. Sometimes she just wanted to forget. Her visits to the club helped.

“You want to go downstairs with me?”  It wasn’t really a question. Cara, a busty redhead, had already fastened a collar and leash around her throat and was leading her towards the stairs. Sydney trembled with a mixture of anxious anticipation and lust.

“Yes, Miss Cara.” Her voice was meek. Other than the collar and a pair of pink lace panties she was naked. She’d already been paraded around the dance floor. Now she was paraded down the hall and met by appreciative whistles and more. She winced more than once when her ass was groped, reminding her of the paddling she’d submitted to the previous night.  Other discomforts plagued her. Cara had bitten her shoulders, neck, and breasts repeatedly, hard enough to leave teeth marks.

“You have been downstairs before,” blonde girl?”

That was who she was for the night. Not Sydney Sherwood, Librarian. She was simply 'blonde girl'.

“Once. Curiosity. I just wanted to see.”

“And did you like what you saw?”

“Yes,” she said, breathlessly, desire obvious in her voice.

“You have a safe word?”

“Not tonight.”

Cara pinched her ass hard, using her nails, and softly laughed at her gasp of pain.

“You will regret that.”

Syd just shrugged, carefully taking the steps down, one at a time, panting softly, her pussy already soaked and dripping down the insides of her thighs…

2340  8/7/24  Alicia Aiello and Famke Steinberg’s Apt. 1109 Mayfair Street #755  New Gomorrah.

Julie’s eyes were wide with terror as she watched her roommate being hacked to pieces. She wanted to scream or run, but she was helpless to do either, gagged and tied to the bedpost. She had her eyes shut, but she couldn’t shut out Leslie’s scream or the sickening sound of hard steel striking soft flesh. At least the screams had stopped.

“I am the angel of death,” the killer growled.  

“Please. Let me go. Please. I won’t tell anyone. Please,” she begged.

He simply stared at her, eventually letting out a sadistic chuckle.

“No, you won’t tell anyone, Julie. Not after I’m done with you.”

She screamed again. Somewhere in the distance sirens were screaming. They weren’t close enough to save her, though. Her screams lasted less than a minute. And then there was only the sound of his blade hewing flesh and bone.

Before he fled the scene, he left a message.

This Judgement of the heavens that makes us tremble touches us not with pity.

0115  8/8/24  The Egyptian Club. 667 Clinton Street  New Gomorrah

Sydney let out a scream as she felt the bite of the flogger on her tits. She’d been told not to come, but she wasn’t sure she could stop herself if Cara kept that up, especially with the vibrator buzzing away inside her overflowing cunt.

“Would you like another, blonde girl?”

She felt a tear rolling down her cheek. Her skin felt like it was on fire. Her nipples throbbed with pain and the insides of her thighs were slick with pussy juice. Her ass still hurt from last night’s spanking.

“Yes, please,” she begged, drool sliding down her chin and onto her poor abused tits.  “I’ve been a very naughty girl.”

Cara struck her again, this time between her legs. She screamed as an orgasm tore through her, her limbs fighting to free themselves from the ropes that bound her to the cross in the middle of the room, oblivious to the gazes of close to a dozen spectators.

0903  8/8/24  Newmark’s Delicatessen and Newsagent  4746 Broadway Street  New Gomorrah   

“Hola, Sydney.”

“G’morning, Kat,” Syd mumbled, eyes hidden by dark sunglasses

“Another rough night?”

“Could say that.”

She’d gotten home from the club late. Very late. About two hours ago. Not enough time to sleep. Barely enough time to shower and try to make herself look…

“You look like hell,”

She paused, slightly startled as Angelo stood up from the table he’d been sitting at. She hadn’t noticed him when she walked through the doors. She laughed to herself at that. It was usually hard to miss him. Tall, dark, and handsome. He worked out, too. And his smile. It was a 1000-watt smile.  A smile that most girls melted for.  

“Up late working on a project.” The lie came easily. She’d used it often enough to cover for her late-night activities.

 “The usual?” Kat asked, already pouring her a coffee.

“No bagel. Need something sweet.”

“Cruller then.”

“Sure. Why not."

1836  8/8/24   Sydney Sherwood’s Apt. 653 Oak Street #805. New Gomorrah

Sydney froze in the middle of rinsing off a plate. She’d just finished dinner and had planned on relaxing for a while on the couch while watching a movie. She hadn’t been expecting visitors.  A brief stab of fear hit her, her thoughts on the morning's headlines. The Butcher had struck again. He’d murdered someone every night this week. At least he’d kept his kills on the East Side, but what if he decided to change tactics?  She moved as silently as she could to the door, holding her breath as she peered through the peephole.

She released her breath explosively. It was only Bobby. Concern turned to anger. What the hell was he doing here? He knew she hated unexpected visitors.

She unlocked and opened the door, her face set in a frown.

“What do you want?”

“Can I come in?” he asked, but before she could answer he’d already pushed his way past her.

“Just checking on you.”

“Okay, you’ve checked. Now go home.”

“Think fast.” He tossed something at her. Two somethings. Without thinking her hands shot and she grabbed them. One in each hand. It took her a moment.

“Asshole,” she muttered, taking a look at what she held. A pair of sheaths. A knife in each one.

“What-“

“Backup,” he said. “Just in case you get yourself into trouble.”

She tossed them back at him. “No.”

He caught them with a sigh. “Please. For me? You don’t have to use them, but… just hang onto them.  Things are dangerous out there right now. This Butcher guy-“

“I can take care of myself,” she retorted.

“I know you can. Doesn’t mean I can’t worry.”

She shrugged, not wanting to admit that she’d been a little shaken up by his visit.  Truth was, he wasn’t wrong. Only she hated the idea of him looking out for her. And she hated knives almost as much as she hated guns. Still…

“I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks, Syd. I mean it. I’ll get out of your hair now. And stay out. Promise.”

She closed the door and locked it behind him after he’d left. He’d left the sheathed knives on the coffee table before he’d left. Picking them up she almost tossed them in the garbage. Almost. And then… she reconsidered. In the end, she ended up in front of the closet in her bedroom. Opening the door, she slipped them into a pair of boots sitting on the floor. One in each. Her mood soured and she changed her plans.  No longer in the mood to chill out at home she went into the bathroom and started the shower.

2015  8/8/24  The Egyptian Club. 667 Clinton Street  New Gomorrah

Sydney walked into the club in pumps and a trench coat.  All she wore underneath was a pair of thin white cotton panties and a bra. The place was packed. Friday nights were always like that.  Everywhere she looked there was leather, lace, and latex. And flesh.  So much flesh.  Violator was playing on the sound system.  And women were dancing. Some half-clothed. Some nearly naked.

She paused, breath catching, as she spotted a woman dressed as Astro Girl and licked her lips.  She caught her eye and smiled as the woman blew her a kiss.  First things first, though. There were lockers in the women’s bathroom. She left her coat, her purse, and her heels in one before taking a few moments to write ‘spank me’ on her stomach with red lipstick. 

She headed downstairs.  Down into the dungeon, leaving the music behind. She wasn’t here to socialize tonight. She had a goal in mind. There was a room. She’d seen it once but had been too afraid to go in. Tonight, she wasn’t afraid. She was determined and eager…

There were all sorts of instruments on the wall. Paddles. Crops. Straps. Whips. Cuffs. Manacles. Clamps.  All sorts of toys to sexually torment a helpless captive.

She hesitated and took a deep breath. And then she went in. There were rings attached to the walls and various devices set up around the room. A pommel horse. A bench. A rack. A cross. Her imagination went wild. In the center, though, was what she remembered. The reason she was here. A simple wooden box. Above it was a hook on a chain. She took a pair of iron manacles from the wall connected by a short chain and attached them to her wrists.  Standing on the box on tiptoe, arms raised up. she was able to get the chain over the hook. Then she simply stood there, waiting, her heart racing and her pussy weeping…

2016  8/8/24  Inga Sorenson’s Apt.  31 Juniper Ave #4. New Gomorrah

Inga awoke suddenly as a hand covered her mouth. She tried to scream, thrashing as she was pushed into the mattress. Above her a dark shape with the head of a pig raised a cleaver.

“I am the angel of death,” it snarled as the blade came down and her world went black.  

2029  8/8/24  The Egyptian Club. 667 Clinton Street  New Gomorrah

“I was wondering where you disappeared to.”

Sydney sucked air into her lungs, eyes wide. It was her. Astro Girl from upstairs. She felt her nipples stiffening and her pussy flooding as she balanced on tiptoe.    

“Spank me, hmm?”

Astro Girl smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. It was cruel and hungry. Sydney watched in silence as she moved along the perimeter of the small room, taking her time as she examined the toys and tools hanging on the walls, her attention divided between them and the woman suspended on the hook. She paused, caressing one of the whips.

“I think you need more than a spanking.”

Sydney let out a moan, her eyes going wide.

“First things first…”

She pushed the box supporting her with the toe of her boot until Syd was hanging, unsupported, from the ceiling.

“Much better. Didn’t want you getting any ideas about escaping.”

Helplessly she watched as the woman toyed with a pair of nipple clamps, eventually removing them from the wall.

“I think you’re overdressed, toy.”

She pulled a knife out and used it to cut the straps of her bra, tossing it aside.

“I’ll let you keep the panties. For now.” Adding, with a whisper. “I am going to make you beg and scream. Is that what you want?”

Trembling, she nodded, blushing.

“Good.”

Sydney let out a soft cry as the clamps were attached to her swollen nipples. Astro Girl cupped her pussy with her hand, pressing her thumb into her clit through her panties. Her very wet panties.

“But I’m not going to let you come. Is that clear?”

Syd let out a moan and nodded again, not trusting her voice as she felt her panties being pushed aside and her cunt invaded by a pair of fingers…

2039  8/8/24  Inga Sorenson’s Apt.  31 Juniper Ave #4. New Gomorrah

The wail of sirens suddenly cut off as the police car skidded to a halt in front of the apartment building, red and blue lights still flashing. They’d gotten an anonymous call. Screams, they’d been told. A woman’s screams.

Pulling guns from holsters, they tried the front door. It was unlocked. Gingerly pushing it open they called out.

“Anyone home?”

No answer. Cautiously, they entered, making their way through the apartment to the bedroom.

“Jesus Christ.”

Blood. So much blood. And something scrawled on the wall.

This Judgement of the heavens that makes us tremble touches us not with pity.

2055  8/8/24  The Egyptian Club. 667 Clinton Street  New Gomorrah

Sydney jerked, the sound of leather striking flesh followed by her cry of pain.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl.”

“I have,” she whispered.

She shook as she twisted slowly, arms sore, ass on fire. It had been nice at first. Astro Girl’s hand turning her ass a nice shade of pink. And then the paddle. The crop, however, hurt. Her bottom was on fire and her cheeks were wet with tears. Worst of all, in between each strike the other woman would shove her fingers into her dripping wet cunt and fuck her right to the edge of climax, then stop.

“No coming. Remember?”

“Oh, god, please? Please?”

“Bad girls don’t get to come,” she said with an evil grin as she hung the crop back on the wall.  “Ever been whipped?”

“No. Never,” she admitted, whimpering as the woman removed the whip from the wall.

“First time for everything.”

0820  8/9/24  Newmark’s Delicatessen and Newsagent  4746 Broadway Street  New Gomorrah

“Hola, girlfriend.  Looking… well, I’ve seen you look worse.”

Syd greeted her friend with a tired smile. “Morning.”

“Trouble sleeping?”

She blushed, recalling the events of the night before.   Her flesh still burned where it had been abused. At least she’d finally been allowed to come. She’d almost blacked out when she had.

“I guess.”

“You awake enough to say ‘yes’ to a favor?”

“Depends,” Syd said, attempting a laugh. “Does it involve breaking and entering?”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Angelo’s birthday is tonight. I wanted to surprise him. Thought I’d decorate his apartment while he’s at work. You know, balloons, some signs.”

“Going to gift wrap yourself too and wait for him in the bedroom?” she took a sip of her coffee, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Kat actually blushed at that.

“Maybe.”

“Uh-huh. Okay, then. I’m in.”

“Cool. Meet me at my place after work?”

“I’ll be there.”

1813  8/9/24  Angelo Ramirez’s Apt. 2332 Mason Street #589  New Gomorrah

“Angelo’s still weird about you having a key to his place?” Syd asked, a little surprised.

“I think he was worried I’m going to find his porn stash or something,” Kat joked, shaking her head. “See? He’s not perfect, no matter what you think. He also leaves the seat up every once in a while.”

“Wow. I’d dump him. You could do so much better.”

“Good thing I’m so convincing,” she said, letting herself and Syd into the apartment.

“We’ve got two hours. Let’s get to decorating. You’re in charge of the balloons.”

“Yes, boss,” she teased.

Kat just stuck out her tongue and then they got to work.

 1902  8/9/24  Angelo Ramirez’s Apt. 2332 Mason Street #589  New Gomorrah

“Shit!”

“Problem?

“Lost an earring. Think it went under the bed.”

Kat got down and began searching, using the flashlight on her phone.

“Gross.”

“Find his porn stash?” Sydney joked.

“No. A box and… it’s wet or something.”

She pulled a small cardboard box out, lifting the flaps.

“It’s… a mask. Covered with… blood?”

Kat held the mask up, a look of disbelief on her face.  A pig mask.  

“What the fuck?”

Syd felt a stab of fear as she caught sight of a butcher's cleaver in the box. 

“Kat? I think we should get out of here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That’s what The Butcher has been using.”

“You think Angelo is the butcher? That’s ridic-“

The bedroom door opened suddenly, making both of them jump.  Angelo was standing in the doorway, his face twisted angrily, a gun in his hand. He pointed it first at Sydney, then at Kat.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s your birthday. I thought-“

“You know I don’t like anyone going through my things.”

“I didn’t mean to. We were just decorating. I dropped an earring. Under the bed. I just… and I found this. It was an accident.”

There was a loud noise. Kat jerked backward, the backs of her legs hitting the bed as a crimson flower blossomed on her chest.

“Angelo?” she said, coughing once before falling backward onto the bed.

He shook his head and bared his teeth.  “I am the angel of death.”

“Oh my god,” Sydney gasped as the gun swung towards her.  Instinct took over and she spun herself towards the window.

She felt the shot before she heard it. Something punched her in the back propelling her through the glass and out into nothingness. She let out a scream as she fell towards the concrete below.

Angelo looked down from above, his eyes cold, his smile hard as he peered down into the dark alley between buildings. He could just make out Sydney’s body sprawled below. Turning, he shook his head, sliding his revolver back into the holster strapped to his chest, his smile disappearing.

“You shouldn’t have snooped, Kat. You shouldn’t have made me shoot you. You’ve ruined everything.”

0107  8/10/24  Sydney Sherwood’s Apt. 653 Oak Street #805  New Gomorrah

Bobby paced the floor, his fists shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, his face grim.

“Mind sitting down?” a blond woman sitting on the edge of his bed said, her voice tense.  “You’re making me crazy.”

Sydney Sherwood lay on the mattress, topless, blood-stained bandages wrapped around her waist.

He made a face, pausing to stand over both women.  “I failed her. If she dies it’s my fault.”

One. She’s not going to die.  Two. It’s not your fault.”

“Dammit! I should have stopped him, Astra!”

“Calm down.  Please.”

“I swear to God, I am going to kill him.”

“No, you’re not.”

Sydney’s voice was weak and every breath burned, pain washing through her as she tried to sit up.

“No killing. Heroes don’t kill. I don’t care what the cops say, Bobby. You are a hero.”

“Syd!”

“I feel like I got hit by a train,” she groaned.  “What happened?”

“You were shot. And then you fell into a dumpster. Good thing it was filled with garbage.”

“Is that why I smell so awful?”

“Yep.”

“Can I take a shower?”

“Would you settle for a sponge bath?”

“I…” she glanced up at Astra and then over at Bobby.  “Does it involve being naked?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe not,’’ she mumbled, blushing furiously.

“You have a lot of bruises.  Not all of them are from falling.  Are they,” Astra accused, brushing Syd’s hair from her eyes, smiling sadly.

“No,” she replied, closing her eyes and letting gravity take her, head resting once more on the pillow.

“How did you… know? I mean, how did you find me?”

“You sent out an SOS on your cell before you passed out. Bobby found you first.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” she managed, sounding weak.

“Yeah, whatever.”

She moved her hand so that it was resting over Astra’s, stroking her fingers gently.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Astra said nothing. She simply leaned over and kissed Syd on the lips softly. Just a momentary brush of lips against lips, crystal blue eyes searching hers, bright with unshed tears.

“Don’t scare me like that again.”

“Promise.”

“Good. Now get some sleep.”

Sydney just nodded, her eyes already closing. Moving hurt. Even breathing hurt. She closed her eyes and drifted off.

 Sydney Sherwood’s Apt. 653 Oak Street #805.  New Gomorrah. 8.10.24 0321

There was a loud noise at the door. It suddenly burst open to reveal a figure with the head of a pig. He was covered with blood and he had a blood-stained butcher’s knife in one hand and a gun in the other. Startled, Bobby stood up from where he was sitting – the corner of the bed – and shouted. Astra, lying next to her, opened her eyes, and rolled over.

A shot rang out. Two. The back of Bobby’s head exploded, revealing chunks of shattered bone and ruined brain.  He twitched suddenly and sank to his knees then fell face forward on the floor.

“No!” Astra shouted, leaping to her feet and attacking the invader. Angelo just laughed and swung his cleaver inhumanly fast slicing her throat open. A spray of blood struck his mask and chest.

Sydney screamed, trying to sit up. She was too weak. Helplessly, she watched The Butcher kicking the lifeless bodies of her friends out of the way as he stalked her, his eyes gleaming through the holes in his mask.

“Your turn,” he growled, pointing his gun at her head…

She awoke suddenly, fighting for breath, tears filling her eyes.

“No!” she gasped.

“Sydney?” Astra mumbled, eyes fluttering open. “What’s the matter?”

“I… oh, god. I had the worst dream. A nightmare. Oh my god. Kat’s dead.”

She began to sob as Astra put her arms protectively around her.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here.”

“He knows where I live. He knows me.”

“He probably thinks you’re dead. I mean, who falls out of a 5th story window after being shot and survives?”

“Astro Girl would.”

She laughed. “Yes, I might. But you’re not me, Syd.”

She tried to laugh along, but it hurt too much.

“We need to go after him,” she finally managed, sitting up. “I need to suit up.”

“We will. First, you need to recover. The bullet went through you clean. It was a miracle it missed your vitals. Doesn’t mean you’re good to go.”

“I need to. I need to stop him. I need to… He killed Kat, Astra. He needs to pay for that. Help me get dressed.”

“Bad idea, Syd.” Bobby sounded grim as he narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re in no shape to-“

“Try and stop me.  Closet. Bag marked ‘gym’.”

Astra sighed and shook her head as she got up off the bed and headed for the closet.

“This is a bad idea.”

“I know. But I have to do this. And It’s not like I’m doing it alone.”

Tossing the bag on the bed, she mumbled something under her breath too low for anyone else to hear and helped Sydney undress. Getting dressed again was an ordeal. She hurt so much, but gritting her teeth, she managed to pull on the skintight blue and black costume with Astra’s help. She was no longer Sydney Sherwood, mild-mannered librarian. She was Glitch.

Sydney Sherwood’s Apt. 653 Oak Street #805.  New Gomorrah. 8.10.24 0258

Sydney was sitting on the couch, washing some painkillers down with a coke and trying not to wince as a stab of pain shot through her midsection. It hurt. A lot. She couldn’t recall when she’d hurt this much. It didn’t matter, though. Angelo needed to be stopped. The Butcher needed to be stopped.

“What’s the plan?” Bobby asked. He was leaning against the door, dressed in jeans, sneakers, a flannel shirt, and a ‘Black Rage’ concert hoodie.  Astra was sitting beside her. Unlike Bobby, she’d changed. She wasn’t really Astra anymore. She was Astro Girl.

“First, you need to get changed too. We’re going to need The Ghost. Then we go pig hunting.”

“Guess we just follow the trail of chopped-up girls and-“

“That’s disgusting, Bobby.”

Sydney just glared at him.  Bobby shrugged. 

“I call them as I see them.”

“You have his number?” Astra asked.

“Kat gave it to me. Yeah.”

“So why don’t we just call him?”

 The Crestmore Theatre. 43rd and Marr.  New Gomorrah. 8.10.24 0523

They stood on stage behind the purple velvet curtains, no longer Sydney, Astra, and Bobby Kane. They’d shed those identities when they’d put on their costumes. Astro Girl in gold and white, Crimson Ghost in dark red, and Glitch in black and blue.

“How you feeling, Syd?”

“Fine,” she answered weakly.

“Liar.”

“Good enough.”

Astra snorted.

“He should be here by now,” Bobby mumbled. Sydney just nodded, pulling her hood up over her head, leaving her face partially hidden in shadow.

“He’s a cop. He’ll do this smart. Probably here already scoping out the place.”

“He’ll still be in for a surprise if he’s just expecting Syd.”

“If,” Bobby retorted.

Sydney blocked out their banter and focused on pushing away the pain. Focused on the image of Kat being shot. The surprise on her face as she fell. The sight of her sprawled on the bed covered with blood. Heroes don’t kill, she reminded herself. Glitch is a hero. I am a hero.

A voice rang out, breaking the silence. His voice. Angelo’s voice. The Butcher’s voice.

“Here I am, Sydney. You wanted to play. Come out and play.”

Taking a deep breath, she glanced at Bobby and then at Astra. Impulsively she moved closer and gave her a soft kiss, thankful that it was returned. It would have gone on for much longer if Bobby hadn’t cleared his throat.

“Much as I like watching lesbian porn…”

“Shut up,” they both said at that same time. Sydney felt herself blushing as she stepped away.

“Here goes.”

She stepped out from behind the curtain and pushed her hood back so he could see her face.  He was standing in the center aisle, theater seats to either side of him.  She couldn’t see his face, but he sounded surprised.

“Someone’s been playing superhero.”

“Not just playing, Angelo. I’m the real deal.”

“I’ll probably get a promotion for bringing you in. Dead, of course. Can’t have you talking.”

She heard a rustle behind her.

“Oh. Look. Another one of your friends.  Crimson Ghost, right?” He drew his gun and pointed it. “I might even make Captain.”

To think she’d thought he was nice.

“You’d look better as an inmate,” Bobby snapped back, spitting, taser in hand.

“You’re not the only one with ‘superpowers’ Angelo said with a snicker.

Astra stepped out from behind the curtain making the duo a trio.

“Careful. His energy level just spiked. He’s either got tech or he’s enhanced.”

“Fuck,” Bobby swore.

“Fuck,” Sydney agreed.

“I am the angel of death.” Laughing, he pulled the trigger.

Astra grunted, the bullet hitting her in the chest and knocking her backward. It didn’t penetrate her suit’s armor, but it would still leave a bruise. The others sprang into action. Bobby rolled to one side while pulling a knife from his belt and throwing it at Angelo while Sydney double-tapped the pad in the palm of her glove. Suddenly she was behind Angelo and punching him in the kidney with all her strength.

He laughed as a knife hit him in the stomach and bounced off. Syd grunted with pain as her fist hit something hard. Body armor. Just like Astra’s.  This time, Bobby aimed for the face, cursing as Angelo ducked beneath it and twisted, grabbing Sydney by the arm and swinging her around. She tumbled over the top of a pair of cushioned seats doing her best not to cry out in pain as she felt her wound reopen. 

“Asshole!” The Crimson Ghost shouted as he charged in and pushed his taser into Angelo’s thigh.

He grunted as electricity flowed through his muscles but he didn’t go down. Before Bobby could react he backhanded him across the face with his revolver, knocking him into the seats opposite Sydney.  A moment later he was hit with a beam of blue light. He screamed as energy melted a hole through the sweatshirt he wore and through his armor, piercing his shoulder.

“Bitch!” he yelled, pointing his gun at her and firing. Lower this time. He hit her in the thigh and laughed as she went down to one knee, grimacing in pain.

Sydney hit her palm pad again and was suddenly behind him again, her arm wrapped around his throat. He responded by throwing himself backward into the chair and knocking the wind out of her. Her side felt wet. She was bleeding. Gritting her teeth, she held on, ignoring the pain and tightening her hold.

Another flash of light stabbed into Angelo. Astra was back on her feet again, grimacing as blood ran down her leg. This one hit him in the hand holding the revolver. He screamed again, as much with rage as with pain, as it fell to the floor.

Sydney took the opportunity to rip off the mask and bite him, her teeth breaking the skin of his throat.

“What the fuck?” he yelled, grabbing at her arm with his injured hand and trying to pull it free. When he succeeded, he grabbed her and threw her with all his might at Bobby. Sydney crashed into him and they both went sprawling in the aisle. By the time they’d untangled themselves he was on top of Astra, One hand grasping her throat, her face distorted as she fought for breath, the other raised above her, holding the cleaver.

“No!” Sydney screamed. She watched in horror as the cleaver started its descent. Desperate, she tapped her palm pad and glitched, reappearing between him and Astra. She was sandwiched between them, back pressed against Asta’s breasts, front against Angelo’s chest. Throwing her arms around him she tapped the pad again, glitching both of them behind the curtain as the cleaver came down. She felt it graze her temple. Felt the warmth of blood running down her face. She reached down. Bobby had talked her into it. She’d been reluctant.  Heroes don’t kill... Tonight she didn’t feel very heroic. Just scared. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want it to end this way.  She realized she’d wet herself while she was pinned between the killer and her friend.  

“I am the angel of death,” she whispered as she watched him lift the cleaver above her once more. She hurt too much to stop him. At least she’d saved Astra. She hadn’t been able to save Kat, though. She pulled the knife out of its sheath and thrust it towards his face. There was another in her other boot. She reached down for that as well…

Sydney Sherwood’s Apt. 653 Oak Street #805.  New Gomorrah. 8.11.24 0603

“How are you feeling?”

Sydney managed to open one eye and glare wearily at Bobby.

“How do you think?”

He just grinned. It faded quickly and his voice took on a serious note. “At least you’re alive. I wasn’t too sure if you were going to make it.”

“Astra?”

He shrugged. Ask her yourself. She’s out on the couch. Going to need to replace it. Cushions are a bloody mess. You both need medical attention. She called in a friend. Should be here any minute. All the perks of Skyway City.”

“Thinking of relocating?”

“Naw. Wouldn’t exactly fit in.”

“Bobby?” she hated the way her voice trembled, but she continued anyway. “Did I-”

At that moment, Astra appeared in the doorway, a grimace of pain on her face, her thigh wrapped in bandages.

“Heard voices,” she mumbled. “Couch is lumpy.”

She crawled into bed and wrapped her arms carefully around Sydney and closed her eyes.

“I had to, Astra.  I had to.”

“Shush. You did real good, honey. Now go to sleep.”