The Casebook of the Captive Teen Detective

The Casebook of the Captive Teen Detective

Case #3:

The Last Case of Laura Morton

By Razor7826

I slid down the slanted roof of the warehouse, digging my left claw into the sheet metal to slow my descent.  I stopped myself just aside a ceiling window and gazed down at the congregation of criminals gathering in the center of the building.

       I recognized a few of them immediately as big shots in the city’s criminal underworld. Their countless bodyguards would undoubtedly prevent me from breaking up the meeting.  It relieved me, however, to know the night would not be a fighting night—my ribs still ached from the previous night’s brawl against a gang of would-be rapists.  They never stood a chance, really, and before leaving them bundled in rope with their police on the way, I kicked each them square in the nuts, just so they wouldn’t get any ideas in the future.

       Roving gangs like them are small fries compared to my true enemies.  I could identify and help arrest every single lackey in the city, and still more would take their place, the true power of the city resting in the few leaders of the warring factions.

       Of those, the worst were the Corelli Family and the Corp, the prior a clan of Italian mobsters, the latter a coalition of corrupt businessmen that united for the creation of a true black market.  The heads of both sat at a card table propped up in the middle of the warehouse, flanked by bodyguards and advisors.  I knew I had to eavesdrop on this rare occasion.

       I reached my right hand into my satchel and pulled out a suction cup.  I pressed it against the glass, squeezing the air out to create a seal. I encircled the rubber base with my claw, cutting a circle around it.   The segment of glass slid right out, stuck to the rubber.  I placed it to my side.  The echo of the warehouse allowed me to hear everything.

       Chairman Chalmers was raising his voice as he slowly rose from his chair.  “This is bullshit, Pietro.  You’re not keeping up your part of the deal.”

       The Mafia leader waved his hand down.  “Calm down, Roy.  We’re doing more than it appears.”

       “Like what?  My men had to kill three cops last week.  That is the sort of thing that will draw attention to us, and the last thing our community wants is attention.”

       “I’m well aware.”

       The chairman slammed his fist into the table, causing it to bounce off the ground for a brief moment.  “You don’t act like it!  The police are closing in, I can feel it.”

       “The city’s police are nothing to be afraid of.  They’re in our pocket enough to not interfere with our shared interests.”

       The sudden turn of the conversation drew me in closer, concerned with their claims about the police.

       Pietro continued, “We’ve also done an exceptionally good job of taking care of any… vigilantes… that have gotten in our way.”

       “Just keep it that way.  We’re done here.”  Roy stood from the table.  “Regardless this little argument, I would like to thank you for your business.  I will keep in contact with you personally as things progress.”

       “Thank you.”  Pietro stood and shook Roy’s hand before sitting back down. 

       Roy turned and left the meeting, his bodyguards flanking him on all sides.  I chose to hold my ground and follow the Corelli family’s faction, since the prior night’s gang rapists were likely Corelli offspring.

       Pietro fixed the collar on his grey suit and remarked, “I wish Chalmers wouldn’t run his mouth about all the cops he’s killed.  Who knows might be listening.”

       A male voice from behind him laughed, “Yeah, what an idiot.”  A chuckle of sycophantic laughter erupted from the goons.

       Pietro laughed briefly before turning to the black-haired woman standing beside him.  “My niece, how are you and your brother’s little projects working out?”

       “Ah, I… um,” she stammered, “we’re doing quite well, I believe.  All of the projects are making progress, especially the newer ones.  The older ones, well, they’ve gotten as far as possible I think.”

       “Good, good.  I may have to join you and your brother again sometime.”

       “Sure thing, Uncle Pietro.  You are always welcome in our home.”  She gave a slight bow to her superior.

       Pietro turned to his right and commanded into the shadows.  “Come, I told Francesca to have some lasagna ready for us at eleven.  I’m fuckin’ starving.”  He stood back up and exited the warehouse, leaving the black-haired woman standing alone.

       It was rare to see a woman at mob meetings, as they tend to work behind the scenes, if at all.  She was tall and slender, accentuated by the black sleeveless dress that she wore.

       She waited until both the parties had left the warehouse before folding up the card table and two chairs and carrying them to her lime-green van.

       I was curious what her ‘little projects’ were and decided to follow.   While the woman fiddled with her keys starting the car, I gracefully jumped down to the ground from the warehouse roof and stealthily planted a small homing device beneath her bumper.  I retreated back into the shadows and watched the van peel away before making my way through alleys until I was in eye sight of my parked motorcycle, shoved discretely behind an empty dumpster.

       I removed the claw from my left hand and placed it along with my other gear inside the center console.  With a turn of the key, I was off, in pursuit of the beeping signal of my prey.

       --------------

       Under the alias of The Peregrine Shadow, I’d been stalking the city for years defeating crime, night after night.  If you asked me why I ever started fighting crime, I wouldn’t be able to give a definitive answer.  My father is the Chief of Police, and from a very young age he instilled in me a strong sense of right and wrong, to always stand on the side of justice.  However, I can’t recall what exactly pushed me into masked vigilantism.  One day, it just felt like the right thing to do.

       Three and a half years I had been fighting crime, ever since my sixteenth birthday.  At five feet, seven inches, I’m unusually short for a vigilante, but I try to make up for it with agility. I’d been banged up pretty bad countless times, but never enough to require hospitalizations.  Cuts and breaks were taken care of, either openly or by contacts I had in the world of crime fighting.  There many out there like myself willing to skirt the law to keep the city safe.

       In hindsight, I shouldn’t have been out at all that night.  My ribs still ached and the more I think about it, I probably went on patrol with an untreated fracture.  I’m still paying for my overeager pursuit of justice to this day.

       ----------------

The green van turned onto a dirt road three hours later.  I drove off-road into the cornfield with my headlights off, cruising by the guidance of only by the dim moonlight and my superior night vision.  My bike hummed along silently, the tweaked engine fulfilling its stealth purpose flawlessly.

       One other car sat parked outside the darkened farmhouse.  I watched from inside the rows of corn as the woman turned lights on inside the house, headed upstairs, and went to bed, returning the decrepit home to darkness.  I waited half-an-hour, a good estimate for people to fall asleep, before creeping towards the front door.

       As people in the boonies often do, it was completely unlocked.  I entered.  My eyes quickly adapted to the darkness.

       I spotted nothing of interest on the first floor, and made my way into the basement.  It was recently refurbished, it appeared.  A nice carpet covered the floor.  The walls were made of drywall, though it was frequently interrupted by thick metal doors, one on each side of the basement.  Each of them had numerous bolts and locks, and were all shut, save one, which was slightly ajar.  I could hear voices from the other side.  A woman’s voice.  I listened, but it sounded like insane rambling, random words into the darkness without correlation. 

I approached further, now beyond the reach of any scattered moonlight. I pulled a flashlight from my satchel.

The moment I turned on the flashlight, a yell pierced my eyes and a shadow rushed towards me.  In the darkness, the girl screamed.

I kicked straight forward with my right foot and felt the distinct connect of a man’s crotch.

“Fuck,” he said quietly.  I could hear him thud to the ground.

The dimmest reflection of my scattered flashlight revealed another shadow. I punched out with my left arm blindly.  My fist glanced off the man’s chest and he grabbed my arm underneath his armpit.  He swung out with right hand, punching me in the ribcage, right where I was whacked by a crowbar the previous night.

“Ahhh!” I yelled as I collapse onto my knees, pain tearing through my chest as the goon pushed down on my shoulder. 

“We got her!” he yelled.  The lights turned on and the driver of the van entered the room.

Only with it fully illuminated could I make out what the room was—a dungeon, with chains dangling from the walls and ceilings.  In the corners were two cells, each containing a woman.  On the left, a blond girl sitting on a toilet in a forced position, her arms and legs chained and strapped to the ceiling.  In the other, a thin young woman with dirty brown hair, rocking back and forth mumbling.

“It really is her, isn’t it?  The Peregrine Shadow, captured at last,” said the driver, still wearing the black dress from earlier in the night.  I had been wrong in assuming she had gone to sleep; she was waiting for me.

“Let me go,” I responded.

“Oooh, that hurts,” muttered the man on the floor, clenching his balls.

The woman moved around to my front and bent over, revealing her cleavage beneath her loose black dress. “You aren’t nearly as stealthy as you think you are.  I saw you climb onto the warehouse roof during the meeting as well as when you planted the bug on my van.”

I cursed underneath my breath, knowing that I was finally caught.

She continued, “You’re going to be worth a lot of money when we sell you, right?”

“What… what do you mean?”  I started to panic.

       She laughed, “Everybody in the city wants a piece of you!  You’re probably the most desired item in the city!”  She turned towards her lackeys.  “Hold her down, I want to have some fun.”

       I noticed that the two assailants were twins.  The one of the floor got up, and each of them held an arm and leg and pinned me to the floor.

       She stood between my legs and pressed the bottom of her shoe hard against my cunt.  The pressure made me queasy.  “Why don’t we see what is behind the mask of yours?”

       She bent down and removed my domino mask and headband, letting loose my curly red hair.  “You’re just another stupid little girl that got in too far over her head.  I kind of feel bad for you.  Sooner or later you’re going to end up like Stacy over there.  What a terrible waste of potential,” she said sarcastically.  I turned my head to the girl on the toilet.  A blindfold covered her eyes, and a bit gag stuffed her mouth.  Unkempt blond hair spilled across her shoulders.

       She grabbed my collar and tore down across my chest, tearing my spandex costume down the middle and causing my tits to spill to the sides.  The tear extended down across my panties and to my crotch.  She quickly tore my underwear, severing the side straps so that the main part fell down to the floor.  She slid her hand down and explored my pussy.  “Hmm, you’re a virgin.  Interesting.  That will increase your value substantially.  Now if only…”  Her eyes went wide and her hand retreated from my panties.  “You’re…”  She paused.  “Fuck!  It’s the Chief’s daughter!”

       “What?” asked one of the lackeys.

       “It’s Chief Morton’s daughter!  Damn, damn, damn!  We can’t be doing this.”

       “Why not?”

       “There’s a deal.  Fuck!  Lock her in the cell with Stacy.  We need to sort this out.”

       One of goons grabbed me in an excruciatingly painful bear hug and carried me towards the cell while the other argued with the woman.

       “Why can’t we keep her?  The chief would never know.”

       “Just give me a fucking moment!” she yelled.  “I need to think this through.”

       The man briefly opened the cell door and threw me to the ground.  I screamed in pain, almost certain that one of my ribs was broken.

       The woman walked back and forth across the dungeon frantically, a scared look in her eyes.  Finally, she stopped.  “That’s it.  I need to call my uncle.  Make sure she’s locked up and head upstairs; some of her friends might be still around.”  They left the dungeon and closed the door, leaving me alone with the other two prisoners.

       The naked girl in the opposite cell crawled up to the bars and clenched them with her hands as she leaned as close as she could.  She began speaking in short motor mouthed bursts.

       “Who are you?  I remember you.  I remember everything.  The Peregrine Shadow.  Stupid little girl.  Fighting people much stronger than her.  I did the same sort of thing before I remember.  I was once a detective.  Tried helping the bitch over there on the toilet.  Ended up the same.  Oh, God!”  she retreated from the bars, curled up into a ball, and began to cry, her loud wailings filling the room and hurting my ears. She was skinny, but clearly not starved, and her dirty brown hair reached down to the middle of her back.  Her breasts looked big on her thin frame.  Strange marks ran up and down her arms and legs, like indentations from bindings kept tight for too long.  Her inner thighs were covered in bruises.

       I felt pity for her.  At the time, I didn’t know who she was, but whatever the monsters did to her, it had destroyed her.

       My attentions turned to the girl on the toilet.  She wasn’t nearly as skinny as the other one, and from the looks of it, she had a bit of muscle on her arms and legs.  Her position above the toilet was clearly temporary, as it would not have allowed for her physical condition.  They must have taken her down for exercise, though I couldn’t possibly imagine what that entailed. 

I leaned in closer and accidentally brushed up against her skin, causing her to wake.  She shook her head frantically and moaned into the bit gag stuffed in her mouth.  I reached up and dragged both the blindfold and her gag down such that they dangled around her neck.

       I fell backwards when I realized the identity of the captive.

       It was Stacy Blue, one of my few friends growing up.  Her father and mine were good friends and frequent coworkers, so we would always end up seeing each other.  She was like a big sister to me. Two years ago, when I was seventeen years old and still a novice crime fighter, she disappeared without a trace. Everyone thought she was dead, killed while pursuing one of the mysteries that gave her such joy to investigate.

       “Stacy!” I yelled.  “Oh, my god, you’re alive!”  She looked up at me and smiled, her blue eyes staring directly at mine.  “Let me help you.”  I stood up, ignoring the piercing pain in my ribs, and unlatched the straps that held her to the wall.  The bindings slid off, revealing the extent of the many marks that littered her otherwise perfectly pale skin.  Rarely have I seen skin that untainted by sunlight.

She slowly tumbled from the toilet to the floor and quickly supported herself on her hands and knees and crawled towards me.  Her face was turned up in a mischievous grin, but her eyes were vacant and unfocused, looking straight through me rather than at me. 

I kneeled on the floor and leaned onto my right hand to take the pressure from my left side.  “Stacy, are you okay?  What did they do to you?”

She closed in on me without speaking and licked my face.

“Stacy?”

Without warning, she pushed on my left shoulder, sending me falling backwards.  She pounced and pinned me to floor.  I tried shrugging her off, but my ribs were hurting more than ever.

Stacy Blue leaned in closer to my face and locked her lips with mine.  Her tongue pushed in briefly before I shook my head. 

“Stacy, what is wrong with you?”

My mouth unavailable, she began licking the sides of my face.

“Stacy…” I said, but I knew it was useless.  Whatever they did to her would take more than my simple pleadings to undo.  I gave up and let her have her way with me, or whatever she had been brainwashed to do.  I laid there on my back, arms at my sides and bent above my head.  I turned towards her and accepted her tongue into my mouth.

Her aggression surprised me, and despite not using my own tongue in response to hers, something came over me.  My body grew hotter and hotter as she caressed and kissed me.  When I was wet, she sniffed the air, then turned around and dangled her ass in my face as she began lapping at my pussy and clit with her tongue.  I closed my eyes and let her do what her work.

She explored deep with her tongue while caressing my thighs with her hands.  She worked fast and efficiently, soon bringing me to a body shaking orgasm, which she seemed to ignore, continuing for what felt like hours. 

By the time the Corelli’s pried her off of me, my mind and body were exhausted from pleasure.  However, I still pitied her horrific state, and feared that I might some day end up the same, a mindless piece of meat that could do nothing but pleasure others.

       

       My last vision of the dungeon was of Stacy Blue, curled on a floor, a grin of pure bliss spreading across her face.

       

----------

       They left me naked, gagged, and bound in rope inside a cardboard box on my father’s doorstep.  Wedged between my breasts was a handwritten letter from Pietro Corelli.  Packed beside me rested the shredded remains of my costume.

       My father’s maid, Eleanor, dragged me in to the den, cursing at the package’s weight then entire time.  I screamed into the gag, but she couldn’t hear me. 

My father discovered my package sitting in the center of his den when he came home for lunch.  His face changed to an expression of absolute panic when he beheld my naked and bound body.  He reached down to un-gag me, but his hands stopped as he noticed the letter from Pietro Corelli.  My own father left me in that embarrassing state to read the letter, prioritizing business over his own daughter.

       “What the hell did you think you were doing?” he said moments after unfastening the ball gag.

       “I’m fighting crime, just like you do.” 

       He reared his hand back and slapped me across the face before grabbing my arms and lifting me out of the Styrofoam packing material.  Never before had he hit me.  “You’re lucky they didn’t kill you.”

       “They’re scared of you, that’s why,” I said, recalling their panic when they revealed my identity. 

       He cut the ropes off of me with a pair of scissors before chastising me, his voice filled with uncharacteristic anger.  “Get dressed and get back down here.  We have a lot to talk about.”  He pushed me towards the door.  I sprinted across the living room, doing my best to cover my breasts and pussy.  Eleanor dropped the dishes she was carrying when I ran by the kitchen.

       I wrapped a layer of bandages around my ribcage and came back down minutes later, wearing a tee-shirt, jeans, and non-prescription glasses, thankful to finally be back in normal clothing after my almost twelve hour ordeal at the hands of the Corelli’s.

       My father was sitting in his desk chair, hunched over, sweat beading on his forehead.  Never before had I seem him look so haggard. He turned towards me, “You have no idea what you’ve done, Laura,” his voice wavering.

       “I’m sorry, Dad.  I… I didn’t expect to get caught.”

       “Laura… I don’t know whatever motivated you to masquerade like that, it ends now. You can’t fight crime anymore, or whatever the hell it is you think you’re doing.”

       “I… I can’t just stop helping people.”

       “They know who you are!”

       “They wouldn’t dare touch me,” I said defiantly, believing that my father could still protect.

       “Yes, they will, Laura.  I had an arrangement with them, but it’s over now because of what you did.  You’ve given them the upper hand.”

I stood there for a moment, shocked at my father’s confession of corruption.  Never before had I felt more betrayed.  My father, working with the Corellis?  It was unthinkable.  “You’re the Chief of Police!  How can you ally yourself with such thugs?”

“They threatened unspeakable things to you, your mother, and your sister.  I had to work with them, for all your safety!”

“What did you have to do?  How could you betray the city?

“It was the city or my family, and I chose you, and…”

“We can take them down! I know where they’re keeping Stacy Blue!

He merely looked up at me for a brief moment before turning his head back towards the ground.  “Laura… they know who you are now.  Don’t you understand what that means? You can’t continue like this, and if you continue to fight against the Corelli’s, they can just reveal your identity to the world.  There are hundreds of people that would like to see The Peregrine Shadow suffer, and while you may be willing to take the risk, they’ll undoubtedly target your mother and sister as well.

My heart sunk and I collapsed to my knees on the floor.  Images of my mother and sister subjected to the same horrors that destroyed Stacy flooded my mind, and I could do nothing but sit there in shock.  I screwed everything up.  Things weren’t supposed to end up like this.  There were no longer any solutions.  Not only could they threaten my father, but they knew my identity, giving them near unlimited leverage against our family.

       “We… we have to go into hiding.” I plead.

       “They’d find us, Laura.”

       I began to cry as I realized that it was over.  I screwed up bad, and I would have to pay the price.  I would have to do whatever the Corelli’s asked of me.

-----------

Please, if anyone discovers the truth of it all, please, forgive me.  I did what I had to do survive.

I… I help those people.  My father’s corruption has spread to me.  I know not why my father became the corrupt cop that he is, but now I’m like him, committing unspeakable horrors for self-preservation.  The Corelli’s are true monsters and I enable them to fulfill their evil deeds

       To the public, I am still simply The Peregrine Shadow, champion of the defenseless, but to those that hold true power, I am just a pawn.

       So here I am, an amoral lapdog of the Corelli family.  Rarely a day goes by that they don’t remind me that I belong to them, that they could easily give the other gangs my true name, exposing me to the worst of retribution.

       Even when I have to act as their play thing, I know it could be worse.  I could be like Stacy Blue, the greatest teen detective the world has ever seen, fallen and disgraced.  My greatest fear is that I will be raped and tortured for years and end up like her, and to avoid that, I will do anything. 

No matter how many women I have to betray to retain my freedom, I will do it.

       

The End

Copyright 2008, Razor7826