Post by The Gangsta on Dec 21, 2014 13:47:25 GMT -5
Ante Whitner RP
Out of the Crosshairs
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The rotted wood of the treehouse began to smell with the oncoming rain. It was a calm drizzle of clean water that seeped through the tiny pockets of the structure. My shaggy, long, brown hair let the droplets of water trickle down my face. It cleansed me of all of my sins, all of my worries, and all of my lies. I let a little grin slip across my face as I enjoyed this moment. I was free from the wrath of the Ghosts, and most importantly, I was free from my father’s tyrannous rule.
I let my eyes wander around the little treehouse and looked up at the ceiling. I saw the words:
THE FLAME DIES. HERE, THE SHADOW LIES.
I furiously backed up into the wall with splinters pointing out of it. I rubbed my eyes furiously and look up again. It was gone. I was just having an illusion or a misconception. I hear a faint voice call out:
“Hey, who’s there?”
I have no option to escape. There is no chance I’ll make it out without going through trouble.
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May 23rd, 2005
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May 23rd, 2005
The Ghost’s Den, Yonkers, New York
As I approached Larry’s room, I feel a hand hold me back.
“Ante, please. If you are going to talk to him, do it politely and not violently.”
“No, Christa, I swear, this man is-“
I hear the door open. Larry steps out.
“What’s going on here?”
“I would like to speak to you.”
Larry looks confused. This is my one way ticket to ending his regime.
“Here, sit. Do you want anything to drink? I have vodka, Budwe-“
“No, I would like to talk.”
“Ok, then.”
Larry sits down in his chair. Multiple mounds of cocaine are on his desk. The lighting of the room looked like Vito Corelone’s office, but the mounds of cocaine on his desk looked like the work of Tony Montana’s.
“I want to know what is going on with you and Christa.”
“What is there to tell? We’re happily married and enjoying our lives together.”
I lean forward towards the mound of cocaine on his desk.
“If you were happily married, then why in the blue hell are you living in this place?”
He leans back into his desk chair. He spins it a little and chuckles.
“Look, Ante. The Ghost’s Den looks to seek refugees and help others in-“
“So, the use of drugs and prostitutes is completely relevant, right?”
He leans toward me and punches his desk.
“I didn’t choose this way of living. We had no choice.”
“You had no choice? This place looks extravagant for a drugie’s way of living.”
“This place was not always the Ghost’s Den. It was refugee camp when I was a young child called the Spartan Refugee Center of Yonkers. I came here to seek refuge and a couple of years later, it was shut down. The men you see smoking and drinking here today were part of the Spartan Refugee Center. Now, all that remains is their Ghosts.”
I was amazed. This place was a former refugee camp. But, the way it looks now, damn.
“Then, why has it turned into an addict’s paradise?”
“When the Spartans ruled this place, the teenagers brought in their goodies off the street. When I was thirteen, I had experienced my first wiff of weed. You couldn’t escape what was already inside of you.”
“How did Christa get here?”
“When I was out one day, I saw her outside 7-Eleven begging for food and drink. So, I picked her up and told her to come with me. She was hesitant at first, but I got her to come with me. Here, I shielded her from all of the other Ghosts downstairs and told her not to worry. She fell in love with me and we married each other. What makes you think I would hurt her Ante?”
I was hesitant to let it out. Should I keep quiet or let it out Ante? I don’t ing know, do it yourself.
“Christa told me.”
His eyes widened as he yelled for Christa to enter the room. Christa opened the door. I felt a cold object touch my head. It was a pistol.
“What in the ing world did you tell him?”
Christa was begging to stop. She was crying with tears rolling down her neck.
“I, uhhh, diddn’t tell him anything.”
“Then, why did he tell me about you?”
He pressed the barrel harder against my head. I licked my lips. I was prepared for what was to come.
“OK, OK, OK!!! I told him, please don’t shoot him!”
Larry lets out a sigh of betrayal.
“I always knew you were a ing liar.”
He takes the pistol off of my head and points to her quickly. He presses his finger on the trigger and shoots a bullet. His pierces her stomach as she lets out a cry of pain.
“NO!”
I lunge over the desk with my eyes turned bloodshot red. I am going to ing kill this man. I am going to ing kill this man.
“DING, DING, DING!”
“Ante Whitner vs. Larry in a No Holds Barred match! This is gonna be one for the ages!”
I land furious punches in his face. If these years of fighting Charlie has taught me one thing, it would be to go for the eyes. I hear him coughing and choking. I punch his throat and his stomach, letting out a little bile mixed with blood pour out of his mouth. He turns me over and gets control of the fight.
“Larry has got Ante in the collar-elbow tie up. There’s no way he can escape this!”
He lands a few good punches on me. They are hard punches because you know; he is fifteen years older than me. I hear footsteps enter the room.
“What the fu-“
I didn’t recognize the voice at first, but I saw who it was. It was one of the Ghosts who had raped me. He pulls Larry off of me and pounds him with vicious punches. I stumble and tend to Christa. Why would that Ghost beat the living crap out of Larry?
“Ante, help me.”
“I am Christa, I am.”
I hear Larry yelling and crying. The Ghost chokes him and throws him into the wall.
“Wow, it looks like Ante has gotten some reinforcement!”
I cover Christa’s wound with a blanket that was lying in the corner of Larry’s room. I help her up and move her outside. There we see the other Ghosts coming up the stairs to find out what’s going on.
“Hey, can I get some help?”
The guy named Marty, who attended me when I first approached this place comes to help Christa.
“What happened?”
“Larry shot her. She needs help.”
“Ok, bring her downstairs. I think I’ve got a couple of stuff to help.”
The screams coming from Larry’s room become quieter and quieter. His own faction had gone against him. We make it downstairs.
“Lay her right here. I’m gonna get the supplies.”
I put Christa down on a little beanie bag.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing, you’re gonna be just fine.”
Marty returns with the supplies. He prepares to take out the bullet when a fatal scream rings.
“AHHHHH!!!!”
I turn my attention toward upstairs. My mind tells me to run up there. I hear Marty call out.
“Where are you going? She needs help!”
I run up the staircase and enter Larry’s room. I see the Ghost standing in the center with bloodstains just about everywhere and lifeless Larry on the floor.
“You killed him?”
“This bastard has told me to make everyone’s lives here a living ing hell man. I had to do it.”
I was dumbfounded by how this man never intended to harm me, but how it was Larry who conducted it all.
“Get the gasoline; we are burning this place to the ground.”
“What?!”
“You heard me. Let’s go.”
All of the Ghosts scramble in different directions to find some gas. I run back downstairs.
“Marty, we’ve got a problem.”
“What is it?”
“The Ghost with the large beard just killed Larry.”
“Oh god.”
“He said they are going to burn this place to the ground. We’ve got to get out of here immediately.”
“Alright, how are we gonna get her out of here? The doors are locked shut. Only Larry has the key to get it open.”
“I'll go upstairs and find the key.”
I rush upstairs to find the key. The Ghosts are already spreading gasoline all over the place. I head into his room where I find the bearded Ghost.
“Do you know where the key is?”
“Check in that drawer. It should be in there.”
I almost trip over Larry’s bloodied body. What the hell did they do to him?
“Hey, the name’s Hank by the way.”
“Ante.”
I rip open the drawer to find the key. I rush out of the room. The Ghosts are already lighting their matches.
“We’ve got to go! NOW!”
Marty picks up Christa and I open the door to go out. As we move outside, there are cops lined up , aiming their sights at us.
“FREEZE! DROP THE GIRL, NOW!”
“She’s hurt, sir. She needs medical attention.”
“THEN DROP HER, NOW!”
Marty lays her on the bottom of the stairs.
“RUN ANTE!”
Marty then charges at the police with a knife, but it is immediately shot at. I attempt to run away and then soon after, a blast blows everyone off guard. The Ghosts had blown it up. It was all gone. I knocked my head hard onto the wall and passed out. From my flickering eyes, I saw multiple cops rush in and heard faint gunshots. It was all over.
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December 13th, 2005
Dr. Travis’s Office, Yonkers, New York
“So that is exactly what happened, Ante?”
“Yes. I am only now starting to remember the Ghost’s Den.”
“Ok, Ante. I think your weekly treatments are just about done. The only thing you need to remember now is to take your medicine and focus on the real world, which I’m sure Frankie has situated for you.”
“Thanks doc.”
I exit his room to see Charlie in the lobby. Charlie had been living with Frankie and I for a few months now because my father rejected him too.
I exit his room to see Charlie in the lobby. Charlie had been living with Frankie and I for a few months now because my father rejected him too.
“You ready?”
“Yeah.”
We leave his office and start to walk back to the house.
“You know Frankie mentioned something pretty unique before I left.”
“What was it?”
“He said that we should start our own little wrestling promotion.”
“Really? Would we be able to do it?”
“I don’t know. If we have the necessary materials and location, I’m sure we can get it done.”
“Alright, I’m in.”
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I peak through the crevice of one of the planks in the treehouse. It was Hank. The man who had raped me before out of Larry’s orders was outside. I climb down the treehouse.
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I peak through the crevice of one of the planks in the treehouse. It was Hank. The man who had raped me before out of Larry’s orders was outside. I climb down the treehouse.
“Well, I guess you made it out alive too.”
“Have you seen Christa? Where did she go?”
“I believe the paramedics took her to the hospital after I escaped.”
I start to walk away from him.
“Hey, don’t you want me to go with you?”
“No thanks. I’m good.”
“Look, I get it. I was the man who raped you a few weeks back, but it wasn't my fault. It was that bastard Larry’s fault. He told me if I didn't make your life at the Ghost’s Den a living hell, then he would slit my brother’s throat in front of me. I was scared too.”
“Who was your brother?”
“My brother was Neil, the other guy that was forced to rape you. He was threatened by Larry too, but he went too far with hold Christa at knifepoint that Larry lashed out on him.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just be glad that the Ghost’s Den is over. Go to the hospital and find her. I guess I’ll be off on my own.”
We split our paths, one longer than the other. I took the long path to the hospital. I was going to find Christa and finally live life the way it is supposed to be.
I then look to the left to a wall full of graffiti. But, there is one message that lies in it.
THE SHADOW HAS ITS HOST. TO TOAST, FOR ANTE WHITNER!
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Poor, little, Shapiro. He just keeps crawling back for the National title. I didn’t get handed this title Shapiro. I earned it by beating Axel Thornstowe when you were absent. The little man hidden inside of you has given up on itself. You’re on your own now and it isn’t working out just fine yet.
Instead of constantly opposing me, how about you join me? I can teach you the ways I conveniently think or process the information of my opponents. The shadow of the Ghosts has fallen on me, in fact, it still sticks into me this very day. I strongly believe it’s the root cause for my bipolar disorder.
Or maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s an apparition looking to haunt me. Maybe it is your soul after I took it the first time I fought you. Or maybe it is the new life I was given after my old one died.
It is all a conspiracy. It is all full of lies, just like you. You are a father figure to many kids around the world through your kind wisdom. I had no father figure in my life. My daddy was not a nice man. You can play your little games and fulfill the kid’s wishes to meet you.
But, just remember this. You are just a mortal being, a man with a beating heart that pumps blood throughout his arteries and veins. At The Clash, the United Kingdom will recognize America’s champion as their champion as well. I will take every single drop of blood and pour it into the United Kingdom’s flag.
That is how they will remember me. Ante Whitner: the WFWF National Champion who painted a flag out of Shapiro’s blood.