Title: Marked for Death
Featuring: Roxy Phoenix
Date: 5/2011
Location: Rev 246

So… Roxy Phoenix had heard from Tyler Rayne. Briefly before his departure, he claimed he needed to go cave-jumping in Papua New Guinea in order to find himself, and he wouldn’t know when he’d return.

He admitted that he could be a prick 90% of the time, and she was right â€" about everything… especially that he did still love her. When he would return from his self-realization hiatus, the two of them agreed to fuck like rabbits, but until then, Roxy would have full stake over his mansion, his staff, and his fine collection of money, guns, booze, and cars.

......................................................

Okay, so that was a big fat lie. She hadn’t heard from him. She had been living with the motherfucker since she broke into his house those several months ago… and even she didn’t see it coming.

The night before he had disappeared, they had played pool for hours and took some shots. She had made a few lewd comments about the fun they’d once had on there as well as some suggestive motions with the pool stick â€" both of which he ignored with a chuckle and a carefree shake of his head.

They’d eaten take-out Chinese, his usual fare for dinner, and watched hours of porn. She’d make lascivious suggestions, and he would respond with that swift tongue-and-cheek humor.

Exhausted, she’d gone to bed around 3AM, which was quite early for her standards, and he was still up… reading, or something equally pretentious. But there was nothing in the air to make her think that it would be different the next morning when she woke up.

It was 12PM when she awoke, which was far too early than she was used to as well. Alfred was cooking, cleaning, and busying himself, as usual. Nothing was off. Ty never went to bed, and he never came home.

No calls, no texts, no emails. No response.

Needless to say, Roxy had better things to amuse her than annoying Tyler Rayne. As much as she loved to get under his skin, she did miss his company a little bit… just a little.

But life moved on… unfortunately, she often found the past catching up with her these days. Especially in her quest to get vengeance on Jason Chains.

That day, Roxy Phoenix couldn’t help but find herself reminiscing of the good days… there were plenty, until the drug abuse got too hard to control… and even then, she would find excuses to forgive the behavior. She didn’t know if it was love… or just habit.

......................................................

It was hot that day in Jamaica. But God, did it feel fucking amazing riding in the back of the yellow Jeep. The wind blowing through their hair, road head on the open highway, reggae music echoing through the air, high on a few hits of acid… nothing could stop them. They hadn’t gotten away in a long time, and Roxy was hoping that this would only turn out to be the best vacation ever… well, Jason hadn’t considered it a vacation. To him, it was work. He always worked. With all of his latest mood swings, she expected Jason to at least enjoy a few moments of the trip. From the recent joyful emission, she was successful in one area.

Roxy Phoenix’s tongue retreated within her mouth, and she inhaled a large gulp. A quick moan followed as she wiped the corners of her mouth with her fingers, "Mmm."

"You are so fucking incredible," he groaned in ecstasy. "God, I wish I could just stay in bed with you every day of my life."

"I know," She sighed, crashing back into her seat. "I’m amazing."

The intoxicating embrace of the acid rush was starting to fade, but her senses still were consumed by it. The sun beat down on her skin, and her skin perked up at the heat with beads of sweat. She smelled and tasted everything. A jerk food vendor two miles ahead just fired up the grill, and the sweet allspice marinade filled her petite nostrils. The sweet taste on her tongue was a mixture of Jason and the sticky strawberry lip gloss that she had earlier applied to her lips. The leaves of the trees bent towards her, almost to scoop her up and steal her away. She giggled at the thought of being kidnapped by the Jamaican trees and joining the jungle as a sexual creature… this was the best high ever.

"Mmm," She tugged at the lime green spaghetti strap shirt hugging her upper torso. It was drenched in sweat. "It’s so hot… I’mâ€"I wanna take this off."

"Settle down there, baby," Jason chuckled.

He extended his arm out to stop her from disrobing, but the top was already on the floor of the car. Her fingers went to working at the straps of the black bikini top to no avail.

"Rox, we’re almost there." He laughed, "Clothes are not optional."

"Fucking… piece of shit," she mumbled as she jerked at the tiny tan shorts on her bottom.

Her chocolate brown eyes surveyed the appearance of her hands. For a moment, she thought they had begun to melt… but the effects of the LSD were wearing off with each frustrated pant as she yanked at the legs of the shorts.

Before she could get any further in her endeavors, the Jeep came to a quick halt. Roxy’s head whipped about to see a medium size shack, composed of different forms and colors of wood and sheet metal, and two red shoulder-length braids flew to the front of her chest. A wide smile stretched across her face, and she jumped out the car.

Jason couldn’t stop her â€" the girl had a mind of her own. He exited the car with a large black duffel bag. Upon the sound of the slamming of the driver’s side car door, a few men began to trickle out the two metal doors. Six men- one Asian, two white, and three black â€" all 6’+ tall brick walls.

Roxy did not exercise any caution as she skipped towards the doors. A scent beyond the doors was drawing her into the shack. In addition to the freshly rolled joints, there was a plethora of premium booze, and… pulled pork sandwiches sopping with jerk sauce. Even though the trip was fading, the pangs of hunger seized her.

"Rox, get the--" Jason ran after her barreling into the barricade of muscle, but once seeing one of the black men produce a gun directly at the approaching Jason, he reduced his pace. His hands flew up in a plea for surrender.

The Asian man snatched Roxy by the arm, and he pulls her into his arms, with a gun at her chin. Roxy did not seem deterred by this weaponry. Her palms caressed the barrel of the gun as though it was a treasured object that needed meticulous care. Her tongue flicked the top of the barrel. He chuckled with a priggish smirk, and as a response, the back of his hand clocked her in the face. Roxy fell to the ground with a rough thud. Her eyes find Jason as he stared back at her and then shifted his glance with discomfort â€" his thoughts returned to the initial goal at hand, and he cleared his throat, now focused.

"Guys, don’t mind her." Jason approached the group with the duffel bag outstretched as a peace offering. "She’s still coming off the juice. She’s harmless. You know… just a… dumb whore."

Whether the derogatory comments were to produce a confident front or the way he truly felt, Roxy could not determine. But her mouth dropped at the low blow… so much for being just a harmless dumb whore. She knew 365 ways to pleasure and to murder a man.

"You’re the dumb whore," Roxy laughed, but the response was too late. No one heard and no one cared. They had all disappeared behind the doors, eager to formulate some deals.

She felt pathetic. How the hell did she get to this place? She’d never done any drugs harder than pot before this recent stint with Jason, and she was disgusted with the way she was letting this shit fly. It wasn’t cute, and it certainly wasn’t going to last long. After they got back home, she’d end things. Clean up her act, and get the hell out of all this crazy shit they’d gotten mixed up in.

International drug dealing for the Yakuza was certainly not what she signed up for when she showed up at Jason’s door that night after she’d left Tyler Rayne… but things had changed. Jason was different. Everything he had â€" it wasn’t enough, he wanted more… and these gangsters would love to get a bunch of young and athletic kids to peddle drugs all over the world for good quick cash. Why did she have to end up becoming one of them? These days, Jason snorted so much of the stuff, they’d come up short... he’d been able to somehow conceal it, but eventually, they’d catch on. He was playing with fire â€" and it was not the fun kind of fire that Roxy loved to experiment with.

"Get up, bitch." The aggressive Asian who had slapped her earlier was the only one who remained.

He jabbed the butt of the gun into the back of her head, and as a reflex, she rose to her feet and the two proceeded into the shack. To the left, she watched Jason set up the product and deliver a well-rehearsed spiel to the small gathering, as though he were peddling Mary Kay or Tupperware products… not grams of pure cocaine.

Jason shook some hands with a successful smile, and he threw a quick nod and wink to Roxy to inform her of the new deal. The group of them set up some lines on the table, and they all prepared to sample the stuff.

"Wrong way, girlfriend." The Asian man grumbled, and he shoved her into the room on the right.

He kicked the door closed behind them. Roxy’s eyes studied the new surroundings â€" a rusty metal table, some broken wood chairs, trash all over the place, and a small travel television.

He turned the knob on the television. It hummed to a rough color picture, and he twisted the knob to control the volume. It was very loud. Loud enough to block out any noise coming from inside the room and outside the room. Something didn’t feel right. Something was bound to go wrong… she just knew it.

"You know I liked the way you licked that gun."

The sound of a belt buckle being undone and fidgeting with a zipper could only be heard since it was only inches away from Roxy’s back. She took a few steps away. The trip was over. It had fully ended once his hand connected with her face. So what? This prick would try and rape her? Boy, that was original… not like that hadn’t happened to her several times. She could rip his dick off before he could get it out of his pants. She wasn’t anxious about her situation… she had a sinking feeling that something was going to happen to Jason.

"Ya hear me, baby?" His hands were on her now. His breath on her shoulder. "I said I liked the way you licked that gun. Seemed like an invitation to me."

Those dirty hands put the gun down on the table, only a foot from her grasp. He definitely didn’t think she was the type to point the gun at him… nor pull the trigger.

"'Cept, I wanna fuck you. I wanna fuck you in your ass." He panted. His dick was already out, and he was stroking himself. "Would you like that?"

Was that a serious question? Did he honestly expect her to say â€" "yes, rape me up the ass while your friends beat up my boyfriend just across the hall"?

He bent her over the table. His palms on her hips. She didn’t stop him â€" she had other devices on her mind. That gun was within her reach…

"Answer me, you fucking whore."

Nothing.

Her hand gracefully stalked toward the weapon. It was in her hands, and he had no idea.

"I want to plug your asshole with my big fat…"

Bang!

"FUCK!" He exclaimed. His voice was rampant with gut wrenching pain.

His hands went to his bleeding crotch. It was still throbbing with blood, but the blood was oozing all over the floor. He fell into a fetal position on the ground, and he shook back and forth. He was going into shock. Pervert. He could’ve kept his dick too â€" if he hadn’t let it get in the way.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Three more shots… across the hall. Bang! Bang! Bang! Three again? Shit. No amount of sound from the television could block that out. Bang! One last one. Shit! Fuck! Shit!

She charged out of the room, desperate to find Jason. She hoped like hell he wasn’t dead… and she prayed even harder that this would not be her way to go either. The last way she’d expected to go would be in some shitty drug shed in Jamaica as a result of a botched drug deal.

The gun led the way to the hall, but she didn’t get very far. The full force of a thick flat rod of steel connected with her face. She fell to the ground, a rough heap of bones. Her hazy glance found Jason hovering over her with the tire iron in his hands.

"Jason," she squeaked. She felt like her head had been nearly taken off. She couldn’t move, and she could barely think or speak.

His nose was bloodied â€" he’d been at the nose candy again. Maybe that was how the stand-off had erupted. They’d counted the grams â€" they didn’t match up with the shipment, and Jason had to start answering questions where the rest of it had gone. Right up his tiny little nostrils.

But… he didn’t look like he had sustained any damage, yet he was covered in blood. Instead of finding Roxy and getting the fuck out of there, he must’ve pick-pocketed the now dead men. But he’d forgotten about the one in the back who’d tried to rape her… the only thing is he hadn’t forgotten them. Even without a dick and a hemorrhaging wound, he could still put in a few essential phone calls. The big guns would be racing here, and they needed to run like hell to save their own asses.

"Jase… help," Roxy’s voice was wavering. Her face was numb, but she could definitely feel the warm blood dripping down the side of her face.

The look on his face was hard to decipher. He was racked with guilt, but she could read the overwhelming sense of power that he was filled with, and it did not comfort her. The tire iron was still clutched tight in his hands, those fingers never releasing their grasp.

"Help, I can’t…" she coughed. She extended her hand out to reach for him to grab her and pull her to her feet. There was no way she could get out of there on her own.

A tear came to his eyes. He returned the duffel bag from the ground to his shoulder just as it was when he had come in, and his opposite hand tightened his grip on the tire iron.

It was in that moment that she knew… she wouldn’t be going back with him. There was no other way around it. The drugs were so rampant through his veins that she didn’t even recognize him anymore. This selfish, reckless person who was willing to leave the one person who had loved him for dead… What she was even more depressed to admit was that she welcomed it.

"Jase, please…"

"I will always love you, Roxy."

A fit of rage possessed his body, and he delivered a series of blows to her inert body.

"I love you so much, Roxy."

The ribs, the face, her knees, her stomach… bruises and cuts, broken bones all ensued. She only gasped at each whack â€" yet she never whined with pain once though… she had accepted her fate.

She tried to speak. Nothing came out. She tried to restrain her eyes from closing, she couldn’t. This was it. She was going to die.

Upon watching the trickle of blood ooze out of her mouth and her eyes close for what might have been the final time, he chucked the tire iron to the floor. He dropped to his knees, and he scooped up her body. Jason sobbed hysterically into her red hair, a mélange of natural auburn hues and crimson blood.

"This isn’t what I wanted..." He cried, "You deserve so much better."

Jason placed her gently on the ground, pecking her sanguine stained lips one last time before darting out of the shed. The final sound that reverberated through her ears was tires skidding through the gravel and escaping that God forsaken place forever… escaping with no consequences and no remorse.

Nothing… at all...

......................................................

"Wake up, princess." Slap!

Unfortunately, a crowd of angry Asians were not about to accept that as her time of death. Maybe God did have a sense of humor after all. Roxy had somehow accrued nine lives, but she was treading on thin ice these days. It was only a matter of time before she’d kick the bucket, and everything inside her had accepted that was today.

Well, seeing the four barrels of guns pointed right at her head made her pretty sure it could still happen today. Four big barrels being held by four big angry thick Asian musclemen. Yeah, and being tied to a chair in the middle of one of the rooms in the shack didn’t ease these feelings either. Her eyes darted around the room… all five men (except for the dickless Asian man who was probably at the emergency room) were strewn dead in different corners. Yeah… just a hunch that she’d die today.

The young Asian man with shoulder length fine black hair shook his hand in pain. He wiped the gold ring of his finger on his white tuxedo coat. A tinge of red was now imprinted on his coat pocket. He cursed under his breath.

She sure as hell recognized him… Hitoshi Ito. She recalled his face only from the few times she had met him during Jason’s business dealings. Unfortunately, if she was seeing his face, this meant that she had somehow been grandfathered in as Jason’s partner/accomplice in this drug ring by no choice of her own, and now that he had most likely gone missing â€" she was the next best thing to getting their money. That mother fucking son of a bitch.

"Where is my money?" He snarled.

Nothing. Roxy didn’t know where Jason was at, or hell, where she was at the present moment. She had no answers for them.

"Answer me!"

"I don’t know," she growled.

At this point, she had a splitting migraine, a hole in her head, bruised and broken bones… there was no room for manners. She was seven different shades of pissed.

"Where are my drugs?"

He was starting to pace.

"I don’t know."

"You don’t know a lot of things… that’s hilarious." Hitoshi’s laughter was fueled with frustration and anxiety. He continued, "Well, what do you know?"

"I know that you are looking for Jason and not me," She spouted that out rather quickly. Slowly but surely, she was gaining some manageable capacity of her facilities.

"True, true." He nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. He sighed, "And do you happen to know where Jason is?"

"No…" Shit… guess not.

He sighed, pausing in his track back and forth. He wagged a finger at her. He said, "One thing I know is that you are lying to me."

"I’m not lying! Why would I lie? I wanted nothing to do with this shit! I don’t know how I got dragged into all this shit!"

Hitoshi rubbed his temples wistfully. Her voice was wearing on his patience.

"You’re lying!"

He ran up to her, shoving the goons out of the way. His fingers wrapped around the base of her nose. He squeezed it tightly, roughly twisting it. He was testing its limitations before the bridge shattered. She held back her whimpering.

"You fucking bitch… I’ll bet that if I break your nose and drain everything out of it that I will find my cocaine."

He released the grip on her nose and slapped her across the face again.

"You and that whiny little prick have been stealing from me… right in front of my fucking face!"

Roxy couldn’t discourage his suspicions. He was right… she had taken a few hits of the cocaine. For curiosity’s sake only â€" but she couldn’t stand it, it fucked with her brain. She lacked any control at all. Of course, the few times she’d taken acid tested her abilities for control as well, but the cocaine never gave her the type of rush she wanted. She didn’t know how Jason could live off it. It consumed him.

He paused, watching her every move. She had no apprehensions. There were no lies written on her face. He had to try and crack her. His mind went through a mental checklist of what to do to make her talk. He sighed, finally pointing at one of the four goons to do his bidding, "You, cut off her fingers until she’s finally ready to be honest."

One of the men pulled out a butterfly knife. He reached for Roxy’s fingers, but she snatched the knife out of his hand and jabs the sharp weapon deep into his gut. He groaned in agony and crashed to the ground.
Roxy moved quick, and once Hitoshi turned to see the commotion, she was out of her chair and only inches away from him. The knife was in her hand, pointed at his throat. He chuckled at her attempt. This lead the remaining three goons to reload their guns and aim for Roxy’s head again.

"So, it seems you do have some spunk."

"I don’t know where Jason is… That bastard left me for dead." Her voice wavered getting those words out, but it wasn’t sadness â€" it was pure fury.

"Aw, someone got dumped?" He cued the giggles from the peanut gallery. Cute. He stifled the hilarity trying to leave his throat, "You want me to go yell at him?"

"No. I’m gonna find him… and I’m gonna kill him." She meant every word she said.

He wiped the small bead of sweat from his brow, and he remarked, "Kill him? Well, that’s all fine and dandy, but a dead body doesn’t make me any richer."

"Fine," she sighed. "I’ll get your fucking money…"

Hitoshi perched his eyebrow in response to this incredulous promise. "Oh?"

"Yes, every last fucking penny, you bastards." She warned, "Just leave me the fuck alone after I do…"
He dismissed her threats. This powerful man was not threatened by some… "white trash hussy." Either way, he still had no panic or anxious reaction to the knife at his temple.

"What about your boyfriend?"

"You find Jason, do what you want with him… but leave him alive." She sighed.

It was official. Jason had drawn the line in the sand, and now it was her turn to settle the score. No doubt he thought she was rotting dead in this shitty Jamaican shed, and she would give anything to see the look on that bastard’s face when she showed up at his doorstep with a .500 caliber gun, jamming the barrel up his cocaine-rotted nostrils.

"Eh, sounds fair." Hitoshi shrugged at this verbal agreement.

Roxy felt invincible. She’d made a deal with the devil, and she’d get a second chance at retribution… nothing would stand in her path towards vengeance.

She lowered the knife to her side, confident that she was able to live to see another day. She began, "So, do we shake on it or…?"

Hitoshi nodded his head to one of the goons standing behind Roxy. One blunt thwack met the back of her head. She fell to the ground, drifting slowly out of consciousness. Once she was within reach of a cell phone, she would have to schedule a CAT scan to make sure she didn’t have brain damage from all of the blunt force trauma to her head lately.

"Great." Hitoshi’s voice started to fade as her vision clouded and grew black. "When we get back to the states… just dump her somewhere… don’t know. Don’t care. Anywhere…"

Roxy thought to herself, ‘If only I could give them some input… a salon/spa would be a lovely place to be dumped… yep.’ She’d have one last mani-pedi before getting her hands dirty.

Jason Chains was now on her shit list. And she had meant the threat with every irate fiber of her being.

She was gonna find him… and she was gonna kill him.
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