Chapter 2

A black transport car pulls up to the curb, the only available space. Police vehicles take up the majority of the street for at least a block in both directions. Marshall Daryl Kerrigan steps out, his black boots landing right inside a puddle. His black trench coat falls out of the transport, almost touching the water puddle. He looks out down either side of the street and frowns. He hates the neon lights, the gambling halls, and particularly the strip clubs.

“Another fucking hell hole,” he mumbles to himself with a sigh.

It’s not that he hates visiting these places, he hates having to investigate at them. And he certainly hates this little game he has to play.

“Marshall Kerrigan?” a police detective asks walking up with his hand extended.

Daryl looks down at it and almost frowns. It is the same tedious play on every planet he visits. The local cops try to be as friendly as possible because they know the wrath a Marshall can bring down upon them if they are not. Daryl hates falseness about as much as he hates this game.

“Yes,” he answers shortly.

“Well, um,” the detective mutters. “Where would you like to begin, sir?”

Daryl frowns at the man. “First off, I’d like every one of your officers to not be in my way. Second, I want details and I hope that the scene was left intact like I requested.”

The detective quickly nods his head. “Nothing has been touched as per your orders, sir.”

“Good,” Daryl says. “The last planet I was on fucked it all up and delayed me.”

“We’re dealing with a planet hopper then, sir?” the detective inquires.

Daryl casts a stern stare at the man and corrects him, “I’m looking for a planet hopper. You are just here to aid in the capture of a possible suspect.”

“Sorry, sir,” the detective says with a smile. “My team and I are just eager to bring this blood thirsty bastard down.”

“Woman,” Daryl corrects.

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“You sure are,” Daryl says under his breath. “If it’s the perp I’m looking for,” he says, this time loud enough for the detective to hear.

“A woman?” the detective growls. “How in the world did a woman do all that?”

“You’d be surprised,” Daryl answers. “I’m willing to guess you’ve never had a case like this?”

The detective shakes his head vigorously. “Petty crimes with women, but never wholesale mass murder.”

“The universe is full of them,” Daryl states. “Now, the details if you will.”

“Yes, of course,” the detective says, clearing his throat. “We have at least eight victims. A weapon, maybe a sword, was used as well as a pistol. We don’t have a model on the pistol but we have begun questioning witnesses.”

A shadow of anger crosses over Daryl’s face and he makes sure the other man sees it. In a deathly calm he says, “What part of me wanting your men to stay back do you not understand?”

“I ... I figured we’d ... cut down your, um, time by questioning...” the man stammers his explanation for their lapse.

“You figured wrong,” the Marshall reprimands. “Get me the ballistics of that pistol and clear your men from the scene. Yours and their priorities are to keep any crowd that forms outside the perimeter. Got it?”

The detective nods, stands there for a brief moment and then hurries away. Daryl sits, looking once again down both sides of the street. He scans the faces of the people that have gathered. He doesn’t really expect to see her, but there is always that possibility.

Most likely she is either off planet or making her way off already.

He shrugs. His answers will be inside, like they have been for this entire, tiresome game.

Daryl investigates the scene and doesn’t find any leads. Everything points to that red haired banshee he has been following from planet to planet and system to system, but nothing as to where she is going next. Or at least why she has come here. He methodically questions every witness there with the same results. The Marshall is about ready to call it a day when he is approached by two of the witnesses he already questioned.

“Hello Marshall,” the taller of the two strippers says as the approach. “In case you forgot, I’m Mandy and this is Rina.”

Daryl gives them a friendly smile. “I remember,” he says. Of course he does. Daryl never forgets an attractive woman or man. Plus in his line of work, remembering the names and faces of victims or witnesses, as well as being friendly, goes a long way. “What can I do for you ladies? Did you remember something else?”

“Well, you can say that,” Mandy says with a wicked grin, like she is hiding something. “Our mutual friend said that we can tell you where she is headed provided you do a little something for us.”

So that is how she is going to play this one.

“You know, ladies, withholding information of what could be very important details about a crime are a crime in itself.”

“We know,” Rina interjects. “It’s what makes it so much fun.”

“I could just haul you in to the local precinct and pull it out of you,” Daryl replies with a light smile on his face.

“Now that wouldn’t be much fun,” Mandy says, placing her finger on his chest and then dragging it down. The clothing beneath her finger ripples but this goes largely unnoticed by the two strippers.

“Yeah, stuck in a boring room, playing twenty questions is no fun at all,” Rina adds.

“We can always take it someplace private then,” he offers.

“No that is just what we were going to suggest,” Mandy says happily. “I’m glad we’re on the same page with this.”

“I guess it all depends on what the method of extraction it’s going to be,” Daryl says.

“Oh, you’re going to like this,” Rina says, grabbing his hand and pulling.

“Yeah,” Mandy adds, grabbing his other hand. “She said you are into stuff like this.”

The Marshall can only guess at what the women were told, but it should be interesting if nothing else. They lead him into a small white room with words and pictures drawn all across the walls. Most of the words as well as the pictures are obscene and the man quickly gets an idea of what the room is used for. That is when he notices holes in various places along the walls. The white walls on the opposite side of the open space behind the room’s walls cleverly disguise the holes.

“I’m going to leave you in here with Rina,” the taller of the two women says. “And I will see you over on that side,” she adds, pointing her finger toward one of the holes on the side wall.

The door closes leaving the Marshall and the stripper alone. They can hear another door open and then close followed by a series of clacking from Mandy’s heels. Daryl’s eyes follow the sounds, following them along the wall to a hole where then Mandy’s finger pokes through.

“Go on,” Rina says. “She wants your cock shoved through there.”

The man turns to the woman he was left with and says, “I know how a glory hole work, lady. But generally I’d be the one on the opposite side.”

“Not for this,” Rina quickly says. “You don’t get any information until you do what we want you to do.”

“It’s not too late to turn you two in,” he threatens halfheartedly.

“And then just imagine how far behind her you’ll be then,” Rina offers.

Daryl just stares, looking down at the woman for a few silent moments. “This better be worth my time,” he finally says.

“It will be,” she giggles.

The man just shrugs and steps toward the hole. The front of his shirt and pants split down the middle and pulls apart. Tiny black tendrils weave through the air like little fingers before receding back into the rest of the black. He steps up directly in front of the opening, lines his cock up and then begins to push it through.

He can see Mandy’s lips pressed against the hole, waiting for his member to enter. The head of his erection slips past her lips, and as he pushes half of it into her waiting mouth, he releases a moan of appreciation. It feels so good to have a hot and willing mouth on his cock. Daryl pushes the entire length through the hole until his hips are pressing against the wall.