Cycle of Vengeance

The Trap of Love Part 1

The Trap of Love Part 1:

The first thing Joe thought as the white van crashed into a light pole was how idiotic the criminal driving was. The car chase had only extended three blocks away from the besieged bank, and by now police cars had surrounded the robbers from both directions. Shards of glass flew everywhere and the headlights on the old white van flickered away, leaving only the blue and red lights of police cars to dominate the night sky. Three men in ski masks jumped out of the van clutching brown bags of what must have been money. They ran before any of the police could stop and get out of their cars, heading for a nearby shopping mall still bustling with unsuspecting civilians. Joe knew a potential hostage situation when he saw one and for a split second, he remained glued to the driver's seat of his car in contemplative horror. By the time he had shook himself from his daze, his new young partner was dozens of feet ahead of him in a dead sprint.

Liam Tyler was surely the bane of the criminals he pursued. He was young, built like a rugged soldier, and quicker on his feet than most of the other officers on the ground. By the time Joe had jumped out of the car to join him, all the fugitives had been subdued. One robber tried pulling out a gun when he saw the young officer hurtling towards him. He didn't even have time to take aim before Liam had knocked all the air out of his lungs with a crushing blow to the belly. Liam rolled the man off his knee just in time to smash his elbow into another robber's face, crushing his nose bone and knocking him out cold. By the time Joe had caught up with his new young partner, there was only one robber standing for him to tackle. The brawl scarcely lasted a second as Joe grabbed the criminal by the arm and flung him down onto his back, audibly smashing the wind out of him.

"Good work," he said, breathing somewhat rapidly.

"You okay old man? Don't want you having a heart attack on me." Liam said as he finished cuffing the men.

"I'm only 31 kid. Don't get too cocky," Joe snapped back. Liam laughed and pulled a criminal up before tossing him to another officer for processing. His muscular, lean body showed the marks of years of military training and action. His face was chiseled and outlined by a few razor thin scars, though most of them were covered by his brown, curly hair. It was jarring how girly the long, unkempt hair was compared to the rest of Liam's masculine appearance.

"Never been cocky without being able to back it up." Joe couldn't help but chuckle at the retort.

"Just get these idiots processed rookie. I'd compliment you on finding their hiding spot but your head's already big enough."

"Whatever ya say boss." Liam and a few other officers trotted off with the robbers in handcuffs while Joe wandered over to their ruined getaway vehicle. The interior was little more than cold, bare metal and didn't even have seats beside one for the driver. There were several more brown sacks full of cash and a haphazard pile of mismatched guns heaped next to them. He had little time to examine the scene when his phone vibrated. When he saw who the text had come from, he quickly shuffled the phone back into his pocket before anyone could see it. He hurried back to his car, eager to return home as soon as possible.

***

Everything about the wedding shouted unrestrained extravagance and flaunted the excessive wealth of the lucky couple's families. Of all the lavish and bloated events he had been to, Mark couldn't have even imagined the scale of luxury flaunted at the party he found himself in. Everything from the gilded silverware to the fine, shining silk cloth of every single guest's clothes exuded haughtiness that choked him. Alicia, the woman who had dragged him here as his master, was no exception. In spite of her glittering surroundings she still managed to shine and glow enough to draw more than a few second glances. Mark had seen the small army of salon and spa workers adjusting every meticulous detail of Alicia's appearance until she looked more like a painting than a real woman. Unfortunately for Mark, he too had been forced through the same ordeal. His blond hair may have been shorter and his make up might have been substantially lighter, but the weight of it all felt like a layer of drying glue flaking off his skin. He raised his hand as an urge to scratch a persistent itch flared.