Evidence

It was a warm November evening as the crescent moon peeked at Evan from behind a skyscraper. Walking up to the bar and placing his hand on the front door, a swarm of questions scurried around in his mind: What kind of club is this? Will I find anything useful here? Is this even a good idea at all? But Evan had taken the subway halfway across town to get here, and he had once overheard someone refer to the place as "that Miami Maniac bar," so he figured it had to house answers. Evan walked through the club's entryway, bracing himself for a strange experience, but was unprepared for what he was about to see.

Pounding techno music emerged non-stop from the club's sound system, as a group of people in strange animal masks drank at the bar's counter, apparently having a good time. At one end of the room was a dining table on which there were candles and a satanic goat's head, and some pizza for good measure, while the other end of the room featured a long table inexplicably adorned with countless telephones. Music blared, people chattered, and glasses clanked as Evan could hardly believe what he had stumbled upon. He had never been somewhere which felt so thriving and alive, even though there were at most twenty people in the entire building.

Seeing the connections between the place and the 1989 Mask Murders, Evan was eager to talk to some of its patrons and get information. He walked up to a small group of twenty-somethings wearing animal masks and sitting on a couch. Clearing his throat, Evan started a conversation with them.

"Hello," said Evan. "How are you guys doing tonight?"

"Uh, we're doing alright," the large man in the bear mask replied. "What are you up to?"

"I'd just like to ask you guys a few questions."

"You a cop?" asked the woman in the swan mask.

"No, I'm a writer. My name is Evan Wright. I'm writing a book about the Miami Maniac, and I was wondering if I could talk to you guys for a moment."

"Yeah? Well, fuck off," the man in the other swan mask replied.

"I'll only need a minute of your time," Evan tried to explain, "and it would mean a lot to me if you-"

"Listen, pal," the swan man interrupted, "You don't know shit. You don't know who we are, you don't know what we do, and you definitely don't know who you're actually writing about. We're not some sort of quirky subculture that exists to satisfy your curiosity and amusement..."

Although the rest of the group was listening to Ash's spiel, Corey could not stop herself from staring at Evan. Something about this man was different to her. He wasn't a daring vigilante, or an Uzi-wielding thug, or for that matter even one of her oddball coworkers at the comic book store. He was a normal person, in speech, demeanor, and appearance: The type Corey wasn't used to seeing. He was so ordinary to her. And so vulnerable.

"...we exist because we want to. It's that simple. We recognize that the 'Miami Maniacs' were really crime-purging heroes, and if we were in charge, there'd be a lot more of them..."

At this point, Corey had forgotten Ash was even talking. All she could do was stare at Evan and think about what she would do to him. It had been months since she last had sex. More importantly, it had been days since she had really hurt someone. All her life, she had been on the bottom in her relationships. Now, she craved power in a way that she never had before. Evan seemed so desperate and out of touch. Corey knew she'd be able to have her way with him if she played her cards right.

"...we own this place, and we won't hesitate to throw you out on the curb if we have to. So if I were you, I'd fuck off, before we make you fuck off. You got that?"

"Thank you for your time," Evan answered. "That helped a lot, actually."

Tony and Alex held back their laughter - Mark, however, burst into a hysterical fit without hesitation.

"Pardon my friend," Mark said after he had finished laughing. "He can be a bit of a loudmouth sometimes. You can hang out here for a while if you want."

"Thanks, but I'm alright. Good-bye, everyone," Evan said as he walked out of the club.

The Fans sat quietly for a moment, contemplating what had just happened.

"Fuck you, Mark," Ash said, breaking the silence.

Corey could no longer hold herself together. The tension was unbearable for her at this point. She rose to her feet, knowing that there was still time to catch Evan.

"I have to go home," she said, speed-walking towards the door.

"Is something wrong? Do you need a ride?" asked Tony.

"No, I'm good. Later."

Evan stood outside the bar, writing down on his notepad everything the swan man had said to him. He chuckled to himself, thinking about how crazy the entire experience was. Evan figured that there were people who idolized the Miami Maniac, given the widespread crime and xenophobia throughout America since the Russian American Coalition was signed, but the idea of an entire fan club devoted to him seemed absolutely bizarre. With all his notes written down, he began to walk down the street back to the metro.

"Evan?" he heard a woman call out.

Turning around, Evan saw the previously silent woman in the zebra mask come running towards him.

"Yes?" Evan responded.

"I have something to tell you about the Miami Maniac."

"What is it?"

Corey tensed up for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. "I don't feel comfortable talking about it here. And it's not here. It's at my apartment. The evidence."

"Evidence? What do you mean?"

Corey grabbed Evan's arm and began walking him. "Just come with me. My apartment's only a mile away."

Evan went along with Corey, curious about what she had to show him. He had a feeling something about this wasn't right, but he wasn't going to turn town a potential opportunity for new information.

Corey felt giddy and excited. She could already tell how willing and submissive Evan was. Taking him back to her apartment like this reminded her of Jacket kidnapping that junkie girl and taking her back to his apartment.

Upon arriving at Corey's apartment complex, Evan stared at Corey's zebra mask as she put in the key to her apartment door.

"Do you ever take that thing off?" asked Evan.

"You'll see," Corey responded with a smile that Evan couldn't see through her mask. She opened the door, revealing the tiny studio apartment therein.

As he walked into the main room with Corey, Evan took note of how cramped and messy the whole place was. Stacks of comic books and vinyl records seemed to grow out of the carpet, and the tables were littered with papers of unknown purpose. Heavy metal posters drooped off of the walls, and boxes scattered all over allowed for very little actual walking space.

"Wait in the living room for a little bit," Corey said as she grabbed a box off of the floor and carried it into the bathroom.

Evan stood beside Corey's bed like she had asked him to, but he was now more confused than ever. What was in that box? Why did she feel the need to take it into the bathroom? What kind of "evidence" about the Miami Maniac could someone like her even have?

Walking silently out of the bathroom, Corey stood before Evan. The only garments covering her toned, athletic body were her socks, black and white striped panties, purple bra, and zebra mask. She held a roll of duct tape in one hand, and several short extension cords in the other.

"Lie down on the bed," she ordered.

Evan was stunned. His first thought was to leave, as he knew this wasn't right. But how many times before had he become overly concerned with what was "right?" He could hardly even stand to beat up punk gangs in the subway that tried to kill him. All his life, Evan's sole concerns had been work and family. This was his first chance to do something truly wrong and deviant. It would be a waste to walk out at this point.

Following Corey's orders, Evan lied down face-up on the bed.

Before Corey truly got to work on Evan, though, she also wanted to make sure he'd be blind. He had seen enough as it was, and she wanted to introduce to him as many surprises as possible.

"Close your eyes."

With Evan no longer watching, Corey took off her bra, then wrapped it around his eyes like a blindfold. Now that he could no longer see her, she felt comfortable taking off her zebra mask. Her long, black hair poured down to her breasts, and she took a deep breath, savoring the relatively fresh air.

Corey proceeded to undress Evan from the feet up, and was surprised by how well-built he was. She wasn't expecting large muscles on such an obedient man like him. It was just the rush she needed, knowing that she had power over a man far stronger than her.

Once all of Evan's clothes were off, Corey knew it would be necessary to restrain and silence him, for he wouldn't stay still and quiet for long. Using the extension cords, she tied each of his limbs to the bed's legs as taut as possible. She then removed her panties, turned them inside out, and stuffed them in Evan's mouth, before securing them with a strip of duct tape.

Now that Corey was free to do what she wished to Evan, she knew exactly where to begin. Grabbing the wooden yardstick she kept propped up against a wall, Corey swung it overhead and hit Evan in the chest. The resulting "smack" sound, and its correlation with Evan's muffled grunt, sent a surge of pleasure through her. This was separate from the pleasure she received by slaying gangsters: That was a mental pleasure, derived from the thrill of violence. This, on the other hand, was a distinctly physical sensation, like violence itself stroking its fingers up and down her body.

Corey continued giving Evan the yardstick treatment. She found great delight in waiting an indeterminate amount of time in between hits, as she knew that the anxious

anticipation between strikes was even more grueling than the strikes themselves. She would hit, wait a while, hit, wait a while, and so on. However, after a few minutes of this, the thrill was gone, and she decided to move onto something else.

For her next act, Corey would need to use Evan's mouth, so she removed the duct tape and improvised gag she had put on him. After that, she took off her socks, and pressed one of her feet on Evan's face.

"Lick it."

Corey reveled in the arousing, vaguely ticklish, but mostly just satisfying feeling of Evan's tongue moving up and down her sole. She wiggled her toes up and down on his face, inserting each individual one into his mouth and letting him suck on it. She was delighted with how eager Evan was to service her feet. It was one thing for him to let her tie him down and hit him a little, but this proved that he was willing to act for her instead of just allowing her to do things to him.

After she felt that her foot had been thoroughly cleansed, she put it back down on the ground, and then placed Evan's face beneath her other foot. As he kissed it, Corey tried to relish the relieving feeling of the sweat being cleaned off of her, but she was getting too tense to really appreciate it. Once she had finished using him for foot service, she eagerly climbed on top of his body.

Now Corey felt ready to experience some more conventional pleasures. Sitting on Evan, she pressed his face in between her legs. Although her crotch was placed firmly against his mouth, she left his nose partially uncovered, giving him just enough room to breathe. He began to eat her out without even having to be asked to.

Corey moaned softly at the feeling, but soon desired to inflict some pain again. She started with a few stinging slaps to his stomach, but soon that wasn't enough for her. She tried to come up with ways to hurt Evan without actually causing any real injury, when she suddenly had a lovely idea.

Raking her fingernails up and down his leg, Evan's screams were suppressed by the weight of Corey's body against his face. She was careful to scratch hard enough to inflict extreme pain, but not so hard as to break the skin. At the same time, she would use her other hand to sensually rub Evan's shaft, forcing his mind to have trouble distinguishing between the pain and the pleasure.

However, Corey was careful not to scratch and stroke Evan too much: She didn't want him to get too excited, and his screaming interrupted the oral and felt awkward. But as she neared her climax, she felt the urge to make him suffer again. She clawed and fondled him non-stop, then stopped the touching right before he came, leaving him feeling cold and unsatisfied. She stopped the stroking but continued the scratching, and not long after that, she came as well, enjoying the pain she had given him almost as much as she pleasure he had given her.

Panting heavily post-orgasm, Corey moved a little further down Evan's chest, giving him more air to breathe, then gave him a quick one-two pair of slaps across the face. She was almost done with him, but felt the need to relieve herself, and leave her mark on him like a wild zebra would. Her sheets needed changing anyway, so she figured it would be no loss.

Corey positioned herself directly above Evan's face, and proceeded to give him a golden shower. After around fifteen seconds of her spraying all over his face, the stream died down, and she finally felt finished with Evan. She got off of him, grabbing some clean undergarments, and returned to the bathroom to clean herself up a little, and put her orange pants and green jacket back on.

When she came back, she removed Evan's blindfold and began to untie him. Originally, she had intended for him to never see her face, but as he stared at her, she realized she had forgotten to put her mask back on.

"Hi," said Evan.

"Hi," responded Corey.

Once Evan was fully untied, he looked at the bruises and scratches on him, and thought about how he needed to wash the myriad of fluids off of himself.

"Hey," Evan said. "I need to take a shower."

"Really? I can't imagine why," Corey said with a smile. "Go right ahead, though."

Evan grabbed his clothes and walked into the bathroom. After he went in, Corey removed the sheets from her bed, and the bra and panties on them, and put them in a corner to wash in her apartment complex's laundry room later.

While Evan took his shower, he thought about what he had done, and contemplated his life's direction as a whole. He also wondered why one always seems to have their deepest thoughts in the bathroom, no matter what they're doing or where they actually are. He didn't exactly enjoy his session with this woman, but it was certainly different. Maybe it's okay to do away with morality once in a while if it means experiencing something unique, he thought.

Meanwhile, in the other room, Corey's feelings about the matter were far simpler. She felt warm and tingly inside, and thought about how much fun she had. It helped that Evan was such a nice man.

Once Evan was clean and dry, he put his clothes back on and walked out of the bathroom to see Corey sitting at the dining table, resting her head on her hand and smiling at him. He thought about how he would get home. Taking the subway was dangerous this late, as he had learned the hard way a few nights before. He'd have to get a ride.

"Can I use your telephone?" Evan asked.

Corey nodded silently at Evan, continuing to stare and smile at him.

As he made his phone call, Corey got up and removed a container from the cupboard. It was full of snickerdoodles she had made the night before. She put it on the table, and poured a glass of milk for Evan and herself.

After he finished talking on the phone, Evan hung up, at sat down at the table with Corey. He grabbed a cookie and took a bite out of it, savoring the sweet cinnamon taste. He took a sip of milk, then put the glass down and made eye contact with Corey.

"So... what do you do?" he asked.

"Eh. I'm working a dead-end retail job. It's pretty boring. I mostly just go to concerts and hang around with friends in my free time."

"Were those people you were with at the bar your friends?"

"My closest ones, yeah."

"And you all idolize the Miami Maniac?"

"You mean Jacket?"

"Jacket?"

"Yeah, that's what people call him. Jacket."

"Well, how do you feel about him?"

Corey paused for a moment, trying to find the right way to articulate her thoughts without giving too much away. "I think he did the right thing, killing all those gangsters," she said as she dipped a cookie in her milk. "The streets just aren't safe at night, and we go too easy on crime. We need more people like Jacket. Vigilantes who can help restore order." She took a bite out of her cookie.

"What about the all the police in that station he shot up?" Evan asked.

Corey pondered the question for a moment while chewing her cookie. After swallowing, she came up with the best answer she could. "Nobody's perfect," she said with a smile.

Evan chuckled at Corey's odd sense of humor. They sat at the table for a few minutes in silence, continuing to eat snickerdoodles and drink milk.

"Listen," said Corey. "When you write your book, can you not talk about what I said or did? Or at least, don't use anything that can be traced back to me."

"I wasn't planning on it," responded Evan.

Suddenly, the incredibly handsome and intelligent Detective Manny Pardo burst into the room. He stared at both of them, and Corey felt a bit concerned, but Evan was happy to see him.

"Hey Manny," said Evan.

Manny looked around the apartment and wondered what Evan was even doing here, and who the woman at the table was. He cringed when he saw the animal mask on the floor.

"Well, are you ready to go?" Manny asked. "Or would you like me to sit down and join your little tea party?"

"I'm ready to go," Evan said as he finished off his milk. He took one last look at Corey. "Goodbye," he said to her.

Corey once again gave Evan a silent nod.

Manny and Evan walked out of the apartment and to the complex's parking lot, before getting into Manny's car.

"What the hell was that?" Manny asked as he started the engine.

"It was for my book. I went to her apartment because she said she had some evidence, and we talked about the Miami Maniac," said Evan, taking note that everything he said was technically true.

Manny looked at Evan's still-wet hair. "You also apparently felt the need to take a shower," he said to him.

"Look, I had a long night, okay?" Evan explained.

"Well, whatever. I guess it's none of my business, and it's not like you could really detach yourself from your family any further at this point," Manny retorted as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Manny drove quietly for a while, with Evan in the passenger seat.

"So who was that woman anyway?" asked Manny while the car was at a stoplight.

"She was a fan of Jacket. Part of a club who thinks he did nothing wrong."

"Jacket?"

"You know, the Miami Maniac."

"Jesus, are you fucking the Miami Maniac's groupies now?" Manny said with an exasperated sigh.

"No! I swear to God, we did not have sex, and talking to her gave me a lot of valuable information," Evan clarified, noting once again that everything he said was technically true.

Manny thought about how deeply involved Evan was with his book, then realized he was probably telling the truth.

"I'm sorry," Manny apologized. "I believe you. I was just joking around."

"It's alright," said Evan.

Manny paused for a moment. "So 'Jacket' has his own fan club? That's pretty messed up."

"Well, I can see how it would happen," Evan replied.

Manny glared at Evan. "You know I had friends at the police station, right?"

"Don't get me wrong," Evan explained. "Jacket was a criminal who isn't worth admiring. But I could see how people look up to him. They see him as a sort of vigilante who helped clean crime off the streets."

"I mean, I guess," said Manny, "but the truth is that vigilantism isn't something we should endorse. If that guy knew where mobsters were hanging out, he should have just called the police on them. He only tried taking the law into his own hands because he was desperate for attention. Speaking of which, I'd be careful hanging around with his 'fans.' I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if one of those violence-obsessed creeps ends up being the Miami Mutilator."

Manny pulled his car up outside Evan's house.

"Thanks for the ride," said Evan as he climbed out of the car.

"No problem. I feel like I owe you one for some reason or another. Bye," Manny said as he drove away.