Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 6

because everything went black, and then he was falling. Tumbling and plummeting into a darkness he didn't know could exist. Faster and faster, until he came to a stop with a crash and let unconsciousness take him away.
    ****
    Brandon was slammed up against the alley wall so hard his head bounced, and floaters danced across his vision. Before he could get his bearings, a fist landed a disabling blow in his abdomen, bending him in half. His breath left him in a whoosh. Almost immediately, he was face to face with the muzzle of a handgun.
    "I told you, you had a week," Carlos spat at him. "Time was up yesterday. So where is my money, hmm?" The hot, rancid breath coming from the thug almost caused him to lose his dinner. The thrashing he was getting wasn't helping either.
    Panting, he tried to respond, but had to swallow down bile before he could get the words out. "H... he won't give me the m... money. I… I tried, but he just laughed in my face."
    "That's not my problem, now is it!? You borrowed the money for your boyfriend," the man sneered. "Now you have to pay it back!"
    "B... but, I don't have that kind of money!" Why the hell he'd gotten himself into this situation, he didn't know. He knew the "how" of it though. Trust.
    Bran gave trust too damn easily. He had met a guy, but not just anyone… oh no! A damn DJ. DJ Jammin', the hottest disc jockey in downtown L.A.. Chris was his real name. The ass had picked him up after hours and they'd been inseparable for months. He never thought of the fact that, as a DJ, Chris had his pick of fans to choose from on any given night. Or that he was using that benefit as often as he could, even while they were 'together.' But he just had that realization smashed into his face.
    Two weeks ago, he'd gotten a collect call; Chris was in jail for drugs. Apparently, he had enough on him that they thought he was a pusher. Looking back now, it was probably true.
    Hindsight, baby. What a bitch!
    Bail was twenty thousand big ones, and DJ Fuck-face couldn't get a Bail Bondsman to take him on. No co-signer or some such bullshit. The Dick had promised that he had the money, just couldn't get to it. So, Brandon did as asked and contacted Master C. Now he was stuck owing big to the most ruthless gang leader around. If it was illegal, the C-gang did it, and Master C didn't know what the word mercy meant.
    He was totally screwed!
    A fist to his face brought him back to the situation at hand. Thugs. Guns. Eating his own teeth. Right.
    Fuck!
    He spit blood from his mouth. "What do you want me to do?"
    Carlos leered at him. "Well, Master C said you have twenty-four hours." The nasty piece of shit started undoing his pants. "But I don't think you would mind making it worth my while to leave you still standing, now would you." The other gang members were snickering and the one with the gun pushed down on his shoulders.
    Eww! Aw, hell no!
    Right before his knees touched the ground, the sky lit up like the fourth of July. A light came out of nowhere, so bright it blinded him. He heard the thugs yelling, and he could have sworn the world exploded. The sound of a bomb going off split the night, and a shock wave knocked him on his ass.
    He was still alive though. The pain let him know that at least.
    Blinking, trying to focus through the white blur and dots that clouded his vision, he thought he saw Master C's crew falling all over themselves, trying to get away. Fuck it. If he was going to die, he was going to see it coming. Bran squeezed his eyes shut and waited a few seconds before opening them.
    Better.
    Looking around, he saw that the dumpster at the end of the alley had one side torn off, and cardboard and papers that had been inside, now littered the ground. Not knowing what was happening, but pretty sure the apocalypse was still set for December 2012 and not today, he got to his feet ready to bolt.
    Before he made it three strides, he heard a loud moan and froze. Bran listened but refused to turn around. He was just about to leave when he heard it again. Shit! He fought himself for a minute, part of him wanting to run for his life and the other too curious not to check it out.
    He was an idiot, and he knew it.
    Slowly, Brandon turned around and walked toward the mangled dumpster, stepping over miscellaneous junk. When he was close enough to the edge, he followed along the side until he reached the wall that was missing, and looked in.
    Holy shit, it's Thor!
    No wait, wasn't that guy blond and